Kurt's eyes flutter open around noon. At first, there's panic. Panic after the fact that he's woken up late; panic for the fact that he didn't go out at dawn to stare at the sea. Panic that Sam knows that he didn't go out and wait for him while the sun rose on the horizon.
(He knows that it's a silly panic. Sam doesn't know how Kurt spends the first two hours of his day out on the dock, waiting. But he still panics).
He sits up and looks out the window. There isn't any wind today, strangely enough. So the curtains stay in place. The sun is shining softly into the room. Kurt looks out past the beach and out into the sea and thinks about how much he hates it. It's taken everything from him. Sam, his voice, his friends. His life.
The panic fades away quickly and Kurt doesn't know how he feels about that. Instead of lingering on the feeling, he lays back down spread eagle on top of the bedsheets and stares up at the spinning ceiling fan for an undetermined amount of time. He really doesn't know or particularly care. Time is a subjective concept to Kurt, anyway. It all passes and it comes and goes as it pleases. He's never really paid it much attention.
It's the phone ringing in the kitchen that breaks him out of his reverie. He waits ten seconds to see if it'll stop ringing, because he isn't really up to answer the phone. Those ten seconds pass and it only continues to ring and ring. Sighing, Kurt gets up out of bed and mentally prepares himself for the person he knows is on the other end of the line; Rachel is the only person he knows that would be so stubborn as to stay on the line for this long.
He arrives in the kitchen, where the old telephone is mounted to the wall. And it is. Old, that is. It's mounted to the wall and has a cord attaching it to the cradle. Kurt just never gets around to replacing it, and besides, it's a little charming. Hesitating, his hand hovers over the headset. Taking a deep breath, he steels himself as he answers. "Hello?" he greets.
"About damn time." Rachel comments. No hello, but once again, that's just Rachel. "Who takes five minutes to answer the phone anyway?" she asks, teasing and Kurt rubs the tired out of his eyes, or tries to, anyway.
"Who stays on the phone for five minutes, waiting for someone to answer?" he replies, hating how groggy he sounds. Rachel giggles on the other line and Kurt waits for her laughter to die down. He doesn't join her, he's much too tired. He isn't sure what has him so fatigued, but there is definitely something different about today from any other typical day.
"Me, I guess." Rachel replies, snapping him out of his daze. "Anyway, I have a favor to ask..." Rachel trails off and Kurt opens his mouth to say 'no, you'll have to ask someone else' because he doesn't do anyone favors anymore. He can't even do himself a favor.
But his voice somehow can't form the words and his mind betrays him, instead. "What kind of favor?" he hears himself ask, hesitantly and then sighs at himself. He knew he was going to regret enabling Rachel. She never really got up to anything good. A giggle passes through the phone from the other end.
"Well it's just that Mercedes is sick and she can't make it tonig-" Rachel begins, but she doesn't get a chance to finish because he cuts her off and takes a deep breath.
"Rachel, I can't." is all he says and a silence develops between them. He can hear shuffling on the other end of the line and then whispering. "Hello?" he asks after a minute and he's greeted once again by Rachel.
"Hello, darling. Just wait a second for me please." she explains and Kurt can hear the phone being set down and he can hear Rachel talking to Finn. He can't hear what they're saying. But it's in hushed, harsh whispers, so it's probably about him.
He takes a moment to think about just what Rachel is asking. She's asking him to come back. To come back and sing. He hasn't sung in over a year. Well, unless you could count the small melody he sang to himself as he fell asleep the previous night. But still, the request was a dangerous one. He isn't sure if he's prepared for what it is that she wants. He doesn't know if he possesses what it is that she wants.
(If he's being honest, he's more afraid than anything. He doesn't want to let her down. He doesn't want to disappoint himself. He doesn't want to disgrace Sam. Which is silly, because Sam isn't even there. Sam is hardly ever there).
He's surprised when he's greeted once again, it isn't Rachel on the other end. It's Finn. "Kurt?" his voice is hesitant and for some reason that only makes Kurt even more anxious than he was before.
"Yes, Finn?" he says, knowing how unsure he sounds. A pause follows and Kurt realizes how frequent pauses are in his life. He wonders why and he can only come to the conclusion that everyone walks on eggshells around him. Which he isn't sure how he feels about because on the one hand, he doesn't want to talk to anyone about anything. However, he isn't as delicate as everyone makes him out to be. So the fact that everyone thinks that he's weak gets to him a little bit.
"Please?" Finn asks and Kurt silently curses him. Finn knows exactly how to get Kurt to do exactly what he wants. It's what brothers do. It's part of the reason why Kurt's been avoiding him for the past year.
(His nervousness and hesitation fades away for a moment when the scariest word falls out of his mouth and explodes against his brother's ear.)
"Okay."
"So you're coming back?" Quinn asks that afternoon from her spot on her beach blanket. Kurt turns his head from the ocean, the ocean with it's ever quiet movement, to look at her. They're seated on the beach behind Kurt's house. A place where Kurt hasn't dared to tread in an incredibly long time. So he isn't sure what's made him go out and sit there now. But he's done it, and he's glad he did.
But the strangest thing of all about the situation is the fact that Quinn is seated next to him. He called her moments after hanging up with Finn and Rachel and invited her over. He didn't know why. Maybe he wanted to talk to someone who understood, but he did very little talking with Quinn. The strangest thing about it all was the fact that she accepted his invitation. And now, there they were, seated on the beach.
Kurt stares at her for a few moments before giving her a tiny nod. "According to Finn and Rachel, yeah. I'm coming back. For tonight anyway." Kurt thinks about his answer, which simply popped out of his mouth. He didn't give it much thought before he said it, but he isn't sure if it's exactly true he's making his comeback performance tonight or not. His answer is accurate, yet vague. It's the best he can provide her with.
She nods in understanding anyway. Kurt turns back to the ocean and wonders how Sam is doing like he always does when she shuffles a little uncertainly next to him. He gives her a sideways, expectant glance and she smiles lightly. "I thought you lost your voice?" she asks and it's Kurt's turn to nod.
"Me too."
An hour passes. Quinn decides silently to herself that she's leaving. And Kurt understands because they don't have to speak to one another to know what the other is thinking.
"Are you coming tonight? Or are you working?" Kurt asks her as she starts away, and wonders why he cares so much if she's there or not. But he does. He cares. She turns to look at him and smiles. It's genuine and that's a change.
"It's my night off. But if you're performing..." she trails off and Kurt realizes he's holding his breath for whatever odd reason. Quinn blinks twice, then finishes her sentence. "I'll be there."
Kurt nods and swallows the lump in his throat. "I'll see you tonight, then."
She waves ever so slightly and leaves. Kurt knows she's coming back though. That's the thing. Everyone leaves but they come back. Everyone except the ones that count.
He sits in front of the vanity that has gone untouched for a very long time. It sits in the far corner of the bedroom, opposite the window. Kurt had lost his use for it long ago. In fact, it had been all but forgotten. But now he sits there, pondering.
He stares at his reflection in the mirror. He notices how pale he is. More so than usual. He gently places a hand on the side of his face because he doesn't feel real. He's going back. He's decided that. He's terrified, but the decision's been made. He isn't sure if he's made it himself or if fate has laid a hand and played a role.
Fate. Something he doesn't believe in. Not really, anyway. If fate does exist, it hasn't been too kind to him as of late.
He's going back. He's returning. Returning to the stage and to the lights and the baby grand piano. He's going to sing. Something he hasn't done in front of a crowd in over a year.
(He doesn't know what he'll sing; something soft. Familiar).
He's nervous and afraid. But also excited, ready. A part of him, no matter how small (and it's tiny. Minuscule. Kurt forgot it existed, really) had always longed to perform again.
His eyes drift from the mirror and to the old wooden frame encasing it. Long ago, so long ago, Kurt can't even remember exactly, Sam had etched a message into the dark frame. It wasn't deep. It only cut off the top layer of paint. Kurt stares at it now and can't decide if he loves it or hates it.
(He hates how it fills him with hope, longing. Confidence. Things that are temporary but make Kurt want them to stay. Just like how he wants Sam to stay. They both never do. Making temporary things permanent can only be done by magic).
Kurt purses his lips as he blinks once and looks back at his reflection. If he concentrates, he can hear Sam's voice in his head saying the words etched onto the mirror. Sighing, he stands from the small bench serving as the vanity's seat and leaves the room.
("Knock 'em dead.")
Kurt comes here often. He knows what's made him come here today and that's new to Kurt. Which reminds him about all of the things that are new and different this time around. Kurt notes how he isn't so stricken with sadness this time around as he takes a seat on the bench. It's a sunny day. Something Kurt is both thankful for as well as dubious of.
Kurt loves the sun, but he can't help but feel as if the weather is deceiving people into thinking that something happy is occurring.
(And maybe that's a selfish thought, because it isn't as if the weather bends to Kurt's every whim, although he almost wishes it did).
"Hi, Mom. Hi, Dad." he whispers, and knows it's inaudible. He hopes the gentle breeze will carry his words. "I just came to let you know that I'm performing tonight." A pause follows. Kurt knows exactly what he wants to say, he just can't bring himself to say it with a straight face.
"I haven't done it in a while. And I'm scared. But, you know... I think I'll get past that." Kurt inhales and exhales slowly. "You'll be listening. I know. But I just came to make sure. I'll be singing for you. Well, you guys and me... and Sam."
Kurt dares to share a tiny little smile, and it's kind of sad, but it's a start. "I wish Sam was here to see me sing. I'm singing a special song. One that means a lot to him. It means a lot to me, too. I'm sure you'd both love it."
Kurt stands up to leave, but before he does, he leaves a final remark. "I'm sorry I haven't come here in a few weeks." Kurt says, glancing across the street. "I just... couldn't."
(He leaves without another word. Across the street, a cemetery rests. Near the gates are two headstone that belong to two people very dear to Kurt).
"Don't you dare-" Kurt begins with a nervous laugh trickling into his voice. He's about two seconds too late because Sam pulls him into the harbor water. "Sam!" Kurt exclaims as his head goes under and he nearly inhales seawater. He resurfaces and clings to Sam. They're both laughing and laughing and Kurt didn't know it was possible to laugh this long but apparently it is, because they're doing it.After their laughter dies down, Kurt looks up at Sam. "Why me? Why now?" Kurt asks, his forehead pressed against Sam's. Hair is flattened against the top of both of their heads. Perhaps it's from the rain earlier. But Kurt doubts it. The correct response would be the fact that they're standing in the ocean, bobbing up and down.
(Kurt can't swim, but he would never tell Sam that. Besides, the blonde is hanging onto him so tightly, drowning isn't an option).
"Why not you? Why not now?" Sam replies, raining a single kiss onto Kurt's lips.
(A kiss that turns into two. Three. Countless).
Kurt walks into The Ivory. He's gone home, changed into what he hopes is appropriate performance clothing; a simple black suit. He looks around, the place is as busy as ever the hour before the rush occurs. He feels as if he's at home, like he's back where he belongs. Yet he knows he isn't. This is only a one time thing. He left this world behind him when his father passed away and he was too overcome with grief to do anything.
"Kurt." Rachel greets him, striding across the lounge floor with a grin on her face. Once she arrives within hugging distance of him, she capitalizes on it.
"Rachel." Kurt returns, hoping his voice is warm and charming. Mostly because if he can't get the spirit and strength back behind his speaking voice, how will he do it with his singing?
"The sound and everything has been all checked and double checked. You're on at seven." she explains, fixing an imaginary rumple in his suit. He knows for a fact that it's imaginary because there's no way his suit would be rumpled anyway. Yet he still feels as if she can see it. He won't look at the place she's fixing because then maybe he'd be able to see it and that isn't something he wants to do because it would probably affect his confidence (or what's left of it).
"Thank you." Kurt says and starts away. Rachel grabs his hand and stops him. He turns to look at her, she has a grin on her face and it seems so joyous, so genuine, that Kurt himself smiles.
(And it feels good to smile, for once).
"Break a leg." she mutters with a nod, which Kurt returns.
'Knock 'em dead' he hears Sam say in his head.
A moment before he goes on, he takes a deep breath. It's only a breath. It isn't shaky, it isn't panicky. It isn't nervous. It's only a calm deep breath. He closes his eyes and counts to three. Then, he steps out onto the stage and into the spotlight.
He looks out across the audience to see many stunned faces. No one knew that he was supposed to be performing tonight. So he imagines that it's a bit of a surprise for them. It's a bit of a surprise for Kurt himself. He blinks a few times, the lights are blinding him. He can't see.
(He knows he's lying, making up excuses for himself. The last tendrils of panic and hesitation simply refuse to let him go).
He closes his eyes and everything is silent for a few moments. In those moments, there is nothing. There is no lights, no crowd, there is no piano. There is no lounge. There is only Kurt. It's then he realizes that this isn't a silly favor that Rachel asked him to do. This isn't some stupid one time thing. This is something he needs to do.
He opens his eyes and the blinding light is gone. Taking a deep breath, he opens his mouth and a beautiful melody pours out.
