Written for this prompt at GKM.
Prologue.
On the third step a sudden urge to turn away hits him out of the blue.
When he hits the fourth step, the realization that he can't washes over him like a cold shower.
Tenth step and he feels the need to grip the railing tighter, harder, to cling to it desperately, because maybe the firm metal will remind him that this is real, this is real and so are all the implications.
Next step, a dark silhouette of a man creeps into his mind. Middle aged, a baseball cap on his head, smiling, caring, nodding in an attempt to brace himself and open his mouth.
His dad. The silhouette fades away as Kurt closes his eyes and then it's a memory. His dad swallows once, twice. After the third gulp he starts speaking, slowly, emphasizing his words every so often by squeezing Kurt's shoulders, a gentle pressure.
"I want you to promise me one thing, kiddo. That you'll go and you won't look back and for two short months you'll forget all that's happened this year. I can't stand to see you look so soulless, Kurt. Not knowing what to do, it's killing me inside. So. Promise me you'll go and try to enjoy yourself, have fun, act like the goddamn teenager you are. Can you manage that?"
His answer was a yes, single yes with a shaky nod and then they proceeded to hug at the airport, the countless strange faces around them disappearing into thin air. It was only his father and Kurt, arms wrapped around one another, faces buried in each other's necks. Kurt could feel his eyes stinging, his dad's hands clapping him on the back and then he picked up his bag and with a sprinkling of waves and forced smiles he vanished in the airport gate.
The fifteenth step comes and goes and he determines that no, he isn't allowed to second-guess a decision like this.
And on the twentieth step he comes face to face with a dark, wooden door, marked by number 3. In a heartbeat, he lets out the breath he's been holding and sets two pairs of bags on the floor, only to pick them up again when a short, dark-haired woman emerges from the staircase.
"Just a second, honey, I know I've put them in here," she murmurs as she fights the material of her beige shorts, looking for a clanging bunch of keys. It's a tough fight, considering she's holding her own share of Kurt's luggage. In the end she grins triumphantly and unlocks the apartment door with a soft click.
"Go on," she encourages him with a smile and Kurt obeys, reciprocating her enthusiasm with a small smile of his own.
Once he's inside, the atmosphere suddenly changes. The air stays humid, but a wave of coolness hits him in the face and the low buzz of a working air conditioner fills the room. The hallway's spacious, almost empty. To Kurt's pleasant surprise it's connected to the rest of the flat not by doors, but by built-in arches. Once he sets the bags down and takes a small walk down the halls, he involuntarily hums in approval. His aunt Diana had a knack for interior designing; there was no denying the fact. It was her occupation, after all.
"I'm sorry I couldn't tidy up a bit more properly, but I've returned from Madrid yesterday evening and frankly, I've been exhausted," she apologizes once she closes the door behind herself and turns to face Kurt.
"If this is what this place looks like when it's untidy, then I'm failing to picture it when it matches your tidiness standards," Kurt professes with a genuine smile as he strolls towards Diana, wrapping her up in a hug.
"Thank you for taking me in, again," he says once they part, trying to look directly into her eyes, without success.
She's the least intimidating person he has the chance of knowing, despite her 6 feet and 2 inches. Always laughing, smiling, her cheeks red and eyes sparkling, but… But there's a certain ruggedness to them that makes it difficult to maintain eye contact. A sense that she saw the world, she saw it all, and she didn't like what she saw.
"No problem, Kurt, you know you're always welcome here," she replies, pinching his cheekbones softly. "God, I can't believe you're eighteen already!"
Standing here and looking at her, the figure he's seen in so many childhood videos, he can't believe it either. So much has changed…
"Wanna take a small tour?" she challenges after a short pause. After an eager nod, Kurt's swept into her hold as she links arms with him and starts dragging him towards the nearest room. Kitchen, apparently. "So, I wanted to bring a little American dazzle to this flat, but keep it simple and traditional, for the most part. Spain's architecture is really rich and considering the Neo-Mudéjar movement also originated from Spain, I decided to…"
Maybe his dad was right, maybe he needs this. The distance, the drastic change of culture and environment, a sense of being away from the problems and people that haunt him in his dreams. No, Kurt knows he needs this.
But why, even with aunt Diana by his side, with the whole Barcelona city lying in from of him, unexplored, why does it feel like such a hard task, to let go?