AN: Basically this is me being sad and bored and having too much time to write. Inspired by a terrible gif-set on tumblr.
The song Blaine sings is "New York" by Snow Patrol, which I personally believe should be the National Anthem for all Klainers because after Kurt leaves I just...I just don't know. Some of the words are no doubt a little off, considering six different websites gave me six different lyrics because the internet is stupid. Also the spacing may be a little wacky. Today just isn't my day.
Disclaimer: Yah, don't own Glee or Snow Patrol. Still waiting for the day, though.
Warnings: Just...angst. ANGST.
New York
Blaine remembers the summer before Kurt left. With perfect clarity. Like it happened yesterday. A span of three months splattered across a canvas that shrinks the whole thing down to the size of something insignificant and breakable.
Kisses on the beach they spent a whole week exploring. Holding hands in public because they weren't the only ones, anymore. Feeling safe. Counting out jar-fulls of shells and keeping their favorite ones hidden in corners of their rooms so that they'd stumble across them and remember. Nights spent tangled around each other while pressing kisses across salty stretches of skin.
If he closes his eyes, he can still feel the heat.
"Blaine? Blaine, you're on!"
His eyes fly open.
And he's in a bar, scruffy and tired. A broken, dreadful shadow of the person he once was.
Some girl with one piercing too many is standing over him, frowning angrily. "Awake yet?"
He smiles bitterly. "Of course I am, Tanya," he drawls, standing up from his stool and following his drummer towards the stage.
When he takes the microphone in hand, the crowd cheers so loud that he actually lets himself believe that they're more than just a band that travels around in a different van every week.
"Hey, guys," he greets half-heartedly, and the crowd starts to cheer again. "I want to start off by playing one of my favorites, a song from Snow Patrol's most recent album!" A few more cheers, but mostly silence. "It's called New York, and if you haven't heard it yet…well, I hope you like it."
He smiles, causing a couple girls to whistle approvingly.
Behind him, one of his band mates starts it up on the piano, and he closes his eyes in preparation for the tidal wave that's about to pull him under.
"If you were here beside me
Instead of in New York
If the curve of you was curved on me
I'd tell you that I loved you
Before I even knew you
Cause I loved the simple thought of you
"If our hearts are never broken
Well there's no joy in the mending
There's so much this hurt can teach us both
Though there's distance and there's silence
Your words have never left me
They're the prayer that I say every day."
Better than anything, he remembers the day Kurt left.
It was cold for September, and they were standing in the airport, trying to keep the conversation light even though the moment was pressing heavy on their shoulders.
But then Kurt was kissing him, and it was beautiful. Like they were falling in love all over again.
"I'm coming back for you," he'd said. "I'm coming back for you, and then we'll go to New York together. Like we've always wanted. Like we've always dreamed."
Blaine was so high on the promise that he forgot all about how fast things changed. He put all of his faith in those words, and was still shaking with the hope of it all by the time he was driving home, wiping tears from his cheeks and trying not to crash his car into a tree.
"Come on
Come out
Come here
Come here
"The long neon nights and the eek of the ocean
And the fire that was starting to spark
I miss it all from the love to the lightning
And the lack of it snaps me in two
"If you were here beside me instead of in New York
In the arms you said you'd never leave
I'd tell you that it's simple and it was only ever thus
There is nowhere else that I belong."
And then that day in December, when Kurt called him and asked him to meet at the Lima Bean.
He sounded fine. Everything was fine.
He remembers changing outfits at least six times and spending money he didn't have on a bouquet of the same colored roses Kurt had given him that time after getting their parts in West Side Story.
It was supposed to be romantic.
Perfect.
"Come on
Come out
Come here
Come here
"The long neon nights and the ache of the ocean
And the fire that was starting to spark
I miss it all from the love to the lightning
And the lack of it snaps me in two."
But Kurt had different plans, that day.
He didn't comment on Blaine's outfit. He wouldn't even accept the roses. He just sat there, drinking his coffee and watching Blaine like he was trying to figure something out.
"I think we should break up."
"It's too much, this whole distance thing."
"I spent every day of September missing you."
"And I love you, I do, but I can't…"
And that's when Blaine stood up and left, leaving behind everything he'd ever dreamed of. New York, Broadway, Kurt. His happiness.
Granted, he remembers the conversation in bits and pieces, and it's not all right, but it's still there and it still happened.
Later, he'd find out that Kurt – his Kurt – found someone else. Someone worth waiting for. Someone worth marrying and adopting children with while he took up a place in fashion and designed clothes for some of the brightest names in Hollywood.
"Just give me a sign
There's an end with a beginning
To the quiet chaos driving me back
The lone neon lights
And the warmth of the ocean
And the fire that is starting to go out."
It's only after he opens his eyes that he realizes he's crying.
Nobody notices; they just shout his name and praise his voice and ask for more, more, more.
But hasn't he given them enough? Hasn't he given the world all he's worth?
What do I do now? Without him?
He pulls away from the microphone and hands it off to Tanya, who glares at him but lets him leave, anyway. This isn't the first time he's backed out after the first song.
Backstage, he falls against the wall and buries his head in his hands. It's been ten years, ten years, since Kurt gave up on everything they had and walked away.
But this still happens. All the time.
When he's alone, when he's in public. This same, age-old ache that just won't leave him alone. Even once in another person's arms.
He just can't stop thinking about Kurt.
Every day he wonders if they'll run into each other. That's half the reason he moved to New York. Not to go to college or to pursue his passion for the stage.
To wander aimlessly down busy streets, looking at things that he can't buy while keeping his eyes peeled for even just the slightest glimpse of that familiar figure walking the streets like he owns them.
But every day comes up short.
And it's easier to realize, now, that Kurt's not coming back. That he's happy in another person's arms, and at least he's okay and not hurting like Blaine is. In this, he can find a small pinch of happiness.
Because, at the end of the day, Kurt's happiness comes before everything else. Even when there's distance between them and too much heartache to ever measure with words or actions.
"Come on, kid, pick yourself up."
It's the bartender, looking down at him with so much pity that Blaine can't help but feel bad for himself.
"You got a show to do," the man says. "Let's go." He reaches his hand out, and even though Blaine just wants to stay here, wrapped up in himself, he takes it.
He wipes the tears and snot from his face while the man presses a drink into his palm, and he drinks it so fast that his eyes actually start to burn again.
This happens too often.
Drinking away the problems and singing drunkenly on stage while people in a very similar state cheer him on.
But what other choice does he have?
Right now, he doesn't know how to answer that.
He's just gonna get up, sing his heart out, and pretend that he's back in high school, singing to the boy with the eyes the color of the ocean on a rainy day.