Kurt Hummel went from being "in a relationship" to "single."
Sam did a double take. The last time he saw Kurt was 10 years ago, but based on his facebook alone, he'd never seen even a crack in his and Blaine's relationship. They always seemed perfect. Stupidly perfect, actually.
Kurt must have logged off immediately after posting, because his picture wasn't there on 'chat', and no one else was online to see because it was quite late where he was, let alone where Kurt was - most of the world he knew would be fast asleep.
Sam knew what he had to do. He picked up his phone and scrolled through his contacts until he saw Kurt's name. He seemed to be listening to the ringing noise for hours, and Sam was just about to hang up when it stopped and a quiet sniff greeted him, followed by a mostly steady, but impatient, voice.
"Hello, this is Kurt Hummel and I hope you know that it's after 3 in the morning where I am so if you're selling or advertising something beyond stupid, you had better hope that I can't trace your number and get your ass fired." Sam couldn't help but smile. It was still the same Kurt he knew from high school. Maybe not as much had changed as he'd thought.
"Hi, um, it's Sam actually. Sam Evans?" The line was silent. "You know, um, we were in Glee club together a few years ago, blonde hair, and um-"
"I know who you are, Sam, but what on earth are you doing calling me? As I said, it's 3am-"
"I saw what you changed on facebook. That you and Blaine broke up. I just wanted to make sure you were okay. We were friends after all, right?" Sam could feel Kurt smiling slightly through the phone, or at least, he hoped Kurt was smiling.
"Thanks, Sam," Kurt said. "I'm fine." But he wasn't, not in the slightest.
In an apartment for two in New York, Kurt was sitting on the floor leaning against his head. Before Sam called, his face was pressed hard into his knees, and tears were pouring endlessly down his face, with Kurt making heartbroken noises that Blaine used to say "would make angels cry".
In a small, one room motel, Sam heard Kurt's voice crack, and he could have sworn his heart physically hurt. Hearing Kurt cry was the worst thing he'd ever experienced, and that included being cheated on and living on basically no money in high school.
"S-sorry," Kurt hiccupped, trying to control himself, "I should probably go, I don't mean to keep you awake or anything." But I don't want you to go, really, he thought, selfishly.
"As if I could sleep, knowing that my friend was upset and alone," he replied. "Do you want to talk about it?"
"No," Kurt replied straight away, then, "Yes. Yes, please." Kurt was quiet for a while, but Sam waited patiently until Kurt took a deep breath, and launched into a heart wrenching story.
"It was horrible. I don't even remember how it started, honestly. We'd been fine, and then all of a sudden, everything just backfired. B-Blaine decided that the apartment we were staying in was too posh, and launched into a huge speech on how individual he can manage. We yelled for hours, and he called me horrible, pathetic, cruel, said I tried to bend him into the person I wanted him to be, you name it. Eventually he ran out of insults, or just got fed up. But instead of making it up almost immediately like we normally do if we fight, he threw his full glass of wine at me, and stormed out of the apartment, kicking over chairs, and knocking down photo frames on the way."
Sam's jaw dropped. He hadn't known Blaine as well as the other New Direction members, and personally Sam thought he had been sort of stuck up and very opinionated, but he was never one to judge. He almost interrupted Kurt to voice his thoughts, but knew better. Once a story was started, it was easier to keep going.
"I didn't move for what seemed like an era until I noticed my arm was bleeding - the wine glass had smashed to smithereens when it hit me, and the Marc Jacobs jumper I was wearing completely ruined. After I cleaned the mess and bandaged my arm, I went to go find him. Knowing B-Blaine, he'd either be at the gym, or the somewhere near the local theatre. The gym was closed. I went to the theatre next and, and..." Sam heard Kurt whimper from heart break, and his face uncontrollably fell into his hand from second hand pain. "And there he was, completely entangled in some guy. I couldn't move. I know he saw me, he made that very obvious. Two hours after I got home, I received a text saying he was flying out of New York that minute, and to never contact him again."
Kurt sniffed audibly, and again, silence enveloped the two separated by miles. Sam was overcome by rage. How dare he, how dare this Blaine guy do such a thing to the nicest kid Sam had ever known when he was in school. Sam was infuriated. He wanted to chase this Blaine guy, he wanted to find him and plant one on his face. Maybe even introduce him to some of the Star Wars Jedi moves he learned for similar circumstances.
"Am I a horrible person, Sa-Sam?" Kurt hiccupped, tears falling faster than rain. "Am I really pathetic, and childish?" Sam couldn't believe such words would come out of this precious boy's mouth.
"Kurt, listen to me," Sam said, slowly. "Are you listening?"
"Y-yes," Kurt stammered."
"Because it's very important that you listen carefully, and take in everything I say."
"I'm listening," he replied, expecting the worst, dreading that Sam would confirm his deepest thoughts, that he was horrible, that he wasn't good enough, and that he was unlikely to meet someone ever again.
"Kurt. You are the kindest, friendliest, most loyal person I've ever had the fortune to meet." Kurt froze. Did he mean that? "I mean it," Sam said, echoing Kurt's thoughts. "I know not everyone sees that side of you, because of some of the cruel people out there who insist on treating you awfully, but for those lucky enough to see the real you, we know how wonderful you are. And as for pathetic and childish – is that even a question? You're Kurt Hummel. Kurt Elizabeth Hummel, the boy who had to grow up faster than most adults could dream of." Kurt chuckled quietly, and Sam felt his heart become slightly lighter.
"Thanks, Sam," Kurt said, still smiling, and wiping tears off his face with his pyjama sleeve. Suddenly, Sam was remembering things from ten years ago, things he'd once tried to block out, and laughed out loud.
"And what's so funny, hmm?" Kurt said, in his usual, precise voice. Sam laughed again – it was nice to hear that normal voice back, not one strained with tears and hurt.
"You probably won't remember, but in my first day of Glee club, you asked if you could sing a duet with me, except , well, you sort of approached me when I was in the shower. That I wasn't expecting!" Kurt laughed loudly.
"Oh, I do so remember! I kept pressuring you about how you dye your hair!" Sam heard Kurt smirk through the phone.
"I do not!" he said indignantly. "I so don't, I never... Okay, no, you're definitely right. I thought it would make me look cool, what with being the new kid and all. I tried to rock the surfer look." Sam flicked his hair out of his eyes.
"You just flicked your hair, didn't you Sam?"
"Damn you and your sixth sense." Kurt laughed.
"If only your sixth sense was knowing when to give up, 'cause you know I would have pestered you until you admitted it!" They both grinned, their laughter ringing loudly in both of their silent rooms.
"You know," Sam added, "I would have sung with you no matter what the world deemed appropriate. Especially now that..." Sam trailed off, mentally kicking himself.
"Now that what?" Kurt asked, cautiously.
"Now that the world's finally becoming less moronic," Sam made up hastily.
"Right," Kurt replied. Sam thought it had got kind of awkward and was now mentally throwing the "not-thinking-before-speaking" part of his brain in a blender.
"I guess I should let you try and sleep. You feeling alright now?"
"Well, I wouldn't say alright, there's still a gaping hole in my chest where Bl... where he used to be," Kurt replied, honestly, "But it does feel like it's slowly being sewn up." Sam liked that analogy.
"It gets easier. I hope you know that."
"You know," Kurt said, "I've heard so many people say that for so many different things, but when I got that text from him, I couldn't imagine how anything would ever feel okay ever again. But it already sort of does. I still feel like shit, but better."
"I hope so. Goodnight, Kurt," Sam said.
"Goodnight, Sam. And thanks." Sam was about to pull the phone away from his ear, but stopped himself.
"Hey, Kurt, wait!"
"Yes, Sam? What is it?" Kurt asked, puzzled. Sam took a deep breath, praying to whatever mighty being was out there that this wouldn't come out sounding as stupid as it did in his head.
"I was wondering... How about we get around to performing that duet sometime? I do owe you, after all." Kurt rolled his eyes endearingly.
"That you do. But you can't expect me to sing badly to make our imaginary audience think that you're better. Not that I could sing badly anyway," Kurt teased.
"Oh, no, of course not. I would consider it an honour, Kurt Hummel. And honour." Kurt laughed, again.
"Goodnight, Sam Evans."
"Night, Kurt."
Sam ended the call, and flopped onto his back. He couldn't help but grin at the ceiling.
Finally, after ten years, he might actually get what he'd been dreaming of – to sing a duet with the plaid-suited boy who shook his hand in his first week at McKinley.