Disclaimer: I own nothing, except an overactive imagination and way too many dictionaries.
Put Your Mask Back On
There are things you're supposed to do, time-honored rituals to perform when having your heart broken. Kurt knows this. But he also knows that most of them are either illegal, or stupid, or require the presence of friends. He's not doing anything that falls into the first two categories, and as for the third...
Kurt's got exactly two friends he would trust with something like this, and one of them helped cause his heartbreak.
So that one's out as well. Instead he makes a cup of herbal tea, spoils himself by adding a generous dollop of honey, and sits down to mindlessly surf the web. Looking at gorgeous clothes, and glamorous locations that aren't Lima, usually helps lift Kurt's spirits. It's a reminder that not everywhere is drenched in letterman jackets and boring blazers, and that there's another world waiting for him, soon.
It's by complete coincidence he sees it.
"It" being an article about a masked ball in Columbus two days later. It's completely sold out, but at the bottom there's a contest to win a ticket. The questions asked are ridiculously easy – at least for Kurt – and two minutes later he hits "submit". He's got nothing to lose, right, and it's not like his Friday night is booked.
Chances are he won't win, but at least he was distracted for a little bit.
When he wakes up the next morning some silly online contest isn't exactly the first – or fifth, or twelfth – thing on his mind, but that changes soon enough. Because apparently? He won.
One ticket to a masked ball. One chance to be Cinderella – or "Cinderfella" he supposes – and Kurt is going to take it.
He spends his day distracted, and only just avoids getting called out for daydreaming in class. It's just, who can focus on conjugations and equations and wars when there's a costume to design? The time constraint means he can't do anything too fancy, which luckily isn't a requirement, but he can still play a bit.
Kurt likes to play with clothes.
The suit he wore at the wedding is a good base. The jacket's going to have to go though, and the tie (because booooring), but he's got some amazing fabric in store which will make for an awesome vest. Nothing extravagant, just a clean cut to let the fabric make its own statement, and then... The mask.
That's where he'll go all out, Kurt decides, and it's going to be fabulous.
(He's so caught up in design ideas he doesn't even notice that Blaine's pouting at him across every room they're both in that day.)
The gold fabric makes for an even more gorgeous vest than Kurt had hoped, and the mask in black with gold accents compliments the outfit perfectly. Looking in the mirror he nearly doesn't recognize himself. Between the costume and the mask, and his new hairstyle – swept up and back, with newly put-in highlights – he looks like someone else. Older, more knowing, less broken. It's a good look.
He puts on some of his favorite scent – the one he can only afford right now because he got it as a sampler – and nods. He'd ready.
The ball is everything he could have wished for – a giant distraction, almost tailored to Kurt's taste – and he enjoys every second of it. He dances, both with women and with men; he enjoys the tasty morsels of food being passed around, and even indulges in a single glass of champagne.
And to top off the fantasy he gets kissed as the clock strikes midnight, by a young man whose outfit is only marginally more stunning than his eyes.
It's with no little regret that Kurt returns to Dalton come Monday, and he sits in the parking lot for much too long. When he reaches the point where he'll either have to run, or miss class, he takes a deep breath, gives himself a stern look in the mirror and echoes his mystery boy's words:
"Time to put your mask back on."
~The End ~