A/N: I've had this sitting in my folder for ages and I've figured the only way I'll finish it is if I post what I've done so far so I feel pressured to haha :) Inspired to write this after watching Knight and Day and Skyfall because I've never seen many of these kinds of Klaine fics so I thought I'd give it a go :) Rated it T because things will hot up soooon...Hope you enjoy it!
Kurt licked his lips. The days were getting colder now as the year approached December, and his chap definitely wasn't working. He regretted the decision almost immediately as the wind picked up, causing the tiny cuts in his lips to sting. Burying his chin deeper into his burgundy scarf, he dug his hands into the pockets of his fitted coat. His toes curled inside his black boots with each gust of wind.
He looked around the unfamiliar barren platform that was lit by a single streetlight; Kurt was thankful it would be dawn soon as the sodium orange glow of the light was starting to creep him out. It seeped into the splintering shutters of the empty ticket office, round its brick shed-like structure and into the concrete, lapping at his feet. Though he knew he was the only person around, he huddled his feet together and kept his eyes alert. Squinting, he noticed a pin-sized light emerge from the darkness, bumbling slowly along the tracks. A relieved chuckle escaped from his mouth as he spotted the train.
Finally, he thought. A smile tugged at his lips, as he pictured the steaming coffee that would be waiting for him when he finally got to his dad's. He glanced into his satchel, making sure he hadn't left the present at Mercedes' this morning. God knows staying over there last night was the reason he was currently turning into an ice cube right now - he didn't need further trouble because of it. Kurt spotted the Nix tickets and relief washed over him.
A tinny version of 'Defying Gravity' sounded from his coat pocket, and echoed around the silent platform.
"Hey, Mercedes, I was just thinking about you" Kurt said, quickly picking up the phone.
"Sober enough to?" a voice laughed on the other end.
"Ha-ha. Very funny..." He looked round the platform. "I told you not to get me drunk last night…now I'm freezing my ass off waiting for this train."
"Hey, don't blame me! You needed it!..."
Kurt snorted indignantly. She giggled but trailed off. Kurt could tell there was something more on her mind than just seeing how he'd recovered from last night's alcoholism.
"Hey, Kurt…I know you don't like talking about it…but…well,are you - you know…you're not still hung up over-"
"I'm fine."
" 'Cos you know you're so much-"
"Honey, I'm fine." Kurt said briskly. Feeling guilty, he added, "Thanks for asking, though. And I feel loads better after yesterday; I had a lot of fun last night."
" Well yeah…you were performing the routine to Vogue with a bra strapped to your head…"
"Oh my God, Mercedes, shut up!"he whispered fervently, looking around the platform in case someone had decided to appear just as he had flushed red in embarrassment. "You're kidding, right?"
"Well, I can check my camera if you like-" Mercedes broke off laughing as she heard Kurt groan.
"You're a cruel woman…you know I'm useless with vodka." Kurt pouted and almost as if she could sense it, reprimanded him for doing so.
"Don't pout, you'll get mouth wrinkles," she laughed. "Anyway, I'm just glad you're feeling better hun…so you set for your dad's birthday? Are you sure he won't mind you coming early?"
"Yeah, he'll be fine. Probably just fixing up some cars as usual. Besides, I managed to get Versace on board at work, I deserve an extra few days off" Kurt laughed.
"Oh yeah, congrats by the way! Okay hun, hope you have a good-" A slow beep cut her off. Kurt looked at the screen of his phone.
Low battery. Shutdown.
Kurt rolled his eyes. He still couldn't get used to this new power-guzzler that used every excuse to switch off. He had to use it though - you couldn't exactly use a last season phone if you worked at .
Ugh, no more thoughts about work.
It had been the week from hell - his boss, Isabella had turned Cruella de Ville on him and he'd couldn't remember the last time he'd had more than four hours sleep.
Shaking it off, he thought of home and smiled. He could already taste the warmth of the piping coffee slide its way down his throat…
A booming voice made Kurt jump, as the tannoy crackled into life.
"The 0538..from…-don to ar…is…in…will be…dela…an hour..a half." The speakers creaked with relief as the monotonous voice finished off its patchy message.
Kurt frowned and looked down the platform. He could see the train with his own eyes. The small light was growing faster now as it approached; the rattling on the tracks had even come into earshot.
He checked his watch. 5:38 am. This was his train.
Kurt looked back to the sign, but the black screen simply mocked him. He listened in case there was another announcement, a correction; just the increasing clatter of the oncoming train replied to his concerns.
He turned back as the train fumbled in, a set of doors slowly coming to a halt in front of him. Biting his lip, he watched as the train clunked to a stop, the yellow lights flickering inside. A silent fog descended once again to the empty platform. Then, like a knife slicing through ice, the doors hissed open.
Kurt looked around again, checking for any signs of life. There was no movement; neither inside or outside the train. This did nothing to quell his uncertainty. He stepped back hesitantly.
Maybe this isn't my train…
Kurt remembered the exact date he'd last used the train - it was when he was a child - but he was certain they didn't operate like this. He looked again, searching for staff of some sort, a driver, anyone. The train remained motionless.
I can wait…follow what the announcement said…only another hour and a half…god knows I've been here that long already…
But the train beckoned him. As the doors had opened, a warmth had diffused its way towards Kurt, enveloping him teasingly, then disappearing.
It was the wind that made up his mind.
A final squall had whipped his face, making his eyes water and his lips sting. He took a deep breath, checked the platform once more and stepped onto the train.
Kurt was surprised to see he wasn't the only one in the carriage. In the far left hand corner of the carriage, sat a newspaper, a black suit and a hat, held together by a shade of a man. The broken light above him and the shadow the brim of his hat cast over his face made his expression unfathomable. He turned the page of his newspaper sharply, causing Kurt to look promptly away. Another, similarly shadowy form sat in the other corner with a briefcase on his lap - his eyes bore into his watch, his jaw clenching with every tick of his watch.
The doors of the train remained open and, uncomfortable with the present company, Kurt made a hesitant step backwards. His resolve soon faltered as icy teeth from outside reminded him of his options. Here or there. He checked on his strange company - both seemed so absorbed in their own thoughts, it seemed as if Kurt had remained undetected.
The train it is, then.
Carefully, Kurt crept into the nearest seat on the other side of the carriage, making sure he faced the others, but so that it would be difficult for them to notice him, unless they stood near the door. This seemed unlikely, however, as neither had moved for the few minutes Kurt had been on the train, except for the occasional turn of the newspaper or jaw click.
The coolness of the seat would have made him start but as Kurt slumped onto the chair, relieved to be in the train's comparatively balmy atmosphere, he was lost in his memories. A similar place, a different time. Kurt fidgeted as the temperature of the carriage seem to increase and then he was back there.
Clinging to a handhold on his tiptoes, he was crushed between the heavy bosom of a woman and an arguing couple, a slow drip journeying its way down his face. He clung tighter as even more people tried to get on. In the humidity, his blue t-shirt stuck to his near-adolescent body, the nausea unaided by the constant pounding of voices in his ears.
"Karl, she's my mother, will you get a fucking grip."
"I don't give a shit she - fuck ow, what do you think you're doing?" The man turned on Kurt, who had stumbled into his stocky frame as even more passengers had squeezed into the carriage. A vein throbbed in the blonde man's neck, deep set lines forming in his forehead.
"S-s-sorry" Kurt sputtered, only able to hold the man's stare for a second. This was his first time on the train, and if he could help it, his last. Taking in the 12 year-old's fragile form, the creases in his forehead eased.
"Fucking summer holidays…" he muttered, turning back to his girlfriend, the argument between them over for now as she seemed to be yelling at someone else on her phone.
Though the 12 year old Kurt wouldn't have used the same language, he agreed. It was the start of his and thousands of other kids' holidays, and it seemed that all of them were trying to board this train. The thirty two degree temperature did nothing to appease anyone, and with each body that got on the heat seemed to claw its way up his throat.
He wanted his mum.
Clutching the twenty dollars Roger had insisted on giving him, Kurt tried to manoeuvre himself to see out the window. He prayed he wouldn't lose the money for that was the reason he was in this situation in the first place. He had suggested Kurt should go to the mall in the next town to buy his mother's birthday gift and do it on his own so he could learn to be independent - his mother hadn't been too keen, but Roger had a knack of getting his way.
Roger was Mum's new boyfriend. Well, 6 months new.
With dyed black hair that was receding at the sides and an Aquafresh smile, Kurt internally cringed at the thought of their relationship. Though Roger did have taste in his suits, Burt was his dad and he'd much rather have pretended to watch a game of football than engage in any sort of social interaction with Roger. To find out what was in that tatty black briefcase he wouldn't lose sight of, however may have changed Kurt's mind. The line, "Accountants have emergencies too, Kurt" with the accompanying wink didn't slide with Kurt. Nevertheless Roger seemed, as he constantly put it, an 'Average Joe'.
Kurt could think of a few less appropriate names for him.
Just above the screaming toddler's head he thought he spotted the light brown of his mother's hair, with the pale blue ribbon she always wore that matched her eyes. As soon as the toddler's father picked up his child to soothe him, Kurt had a full view of his mother standing on the platform, Roger's arm around her waist. A knot tightened in his stomach uneasily as he watched them gaze at each other.
He hadn't been unfair to Kurt or hurt him, but something wasn't right. The evenings he didn't come home. The constant phone calls. The files. That briefcase.
But Kurt had been 12 and not old enough to understand 'grown-up things'.
His mother finally noticed Kurt in the window, and Kurt waved frantically, almost hitting several people in doing so. A beautiful beam spread across her face, as she made to wave back though Roger's grip hindered her from waving straight away. She brushed him off and stepped to the window as the doors began to shut and the engines began to whir.
Putting her fingertip to the glass, she drew a heart in the dust of the window and put her smiling face inside it. She laughed as she saw him roll his eyes.
The train had started to move.
Seeing his smile falter, she skipped a little along the platform to keep up with the train. Kurt smiled, though his throat had started to tighten in anxiety, as she blew him a kiss and mouthed 'see you soon'. He waved until she disappeared from sight.
Suddenly, the heat coiled around his throat. Kurt's eyes flew open.
He was still on the train but it was colder, darker and as he regained his composure, he realised, ten years later.
It took a while for him to notice the piercing cold in his hand, as he found his palm pressed against the glass. He removed it, half hoping to see the heart his mother left behind a lifetime ago, sighing when he didn't.
That had been the last time he had seen her.
As Kurt sat in the carriage watching the fog cloud up his handprint on the window, the bleak pre-dawn clouds slowly parted over the platform. Kurt did a double-take.
As the first rays of morning light struck the concrete, he noticed a man walk calmly to the edge of the platform, then stop a few paces away from the open doors.
Quick A/N: Extended this chapter instead of making two short ones :) Please do leave reviews etc, I love reading and responding to them!