"I need to talk to you," Blaine said hurriedly into the phone. "Can you come over, like, right now?"
"Whoa, calm down. Are you alright?"
"No. I'm going out of my mind. I just," he groaned. "Please, Jeff?"
"Yeah, no problem, Anderson. I haven't seen you in a while anyway, and I miss your face. I'll be over as soon as I can."
"Thank you so much." He paused and took a deep breath. "Jeff?"
"Yeah?"
"I'll see you soon."
"Yeah, Blaine. Hang tight. I'll see you."
There was a click, and the line went dead. Blaine stood in the center of his kitchen, still holding the phone up to his ear before finally lowering it and setting it on the counter.
Arms tightly, almost painfully, wrapped around himself like he was holding himself together, Blaine paced back and forth, back and forth until he finally grabbed the back of a chair, pulled it out from the table, and dropped down heavily into it. Blaine placed his head in his hands, his leg shaking and foot tapping anxiously under the table, as he sorted through the chaos in his head, all the swirling thoughts about Elle, Kurt, the gay club, Sheila, and then finally Jeff and how he'd be arriving in a matter of minutes.
His head shot up when there was a knock on the door, and Blaine made haste to let in his guest.
"I brought beer," Jeff said, lifting up the cardboard holder as he slid the black plastic bag from around it. He set the six-pack on the counter and pulled out two bottles, popping Blaine's cap off for him and handing it over, before helping himself to his own.
Blaine took a few sips, feeling the malted beverage flow down into his empty stomach.
"What's going on with you," Jeff finally asked, but Blaine was staring down at a spot on the floor, quiet and calculating.
He lifted his head. "I'm gay, Jeff. I'm so gay," Blaine said bluntly.
Jeff sipped his beer without batting an eye at the statement, his expression unwavering. "I know. This is nothing new."
Blaine took a step to the side and leaned against the counter, clutching his bottle close to his chest. "It's not new. But it hasn't been that much of an issue until recently."
Jeff gave him a knowing look. They both knew that it had been tearing Blaine up inside all these years, worsening the longer he remained hidden in the closet. It had always been an issue.
"You're the only one who knows," Blaine continued, running his hand through his hair. "At least I think so, and I did something - I did something incredibly stupid, and I think I really fucked up." He shifted from one foot to another, his movements almost frantic.
"What happened to you?" Jeff asked, reaching his free hand out to still Blaine. "You're freaking out, and it's scaring me."
"I don't know what got into me. I went out the other night on a whim. I just - I went out to a gay club, and I watched a drag show."
The blond stared in fascination at Blaine, his mouth turning up into a small grin. "Hm. That is very out of character for you." He climbed onto a stool at the counter, setting his beer down with a faint clink. "I'm proud of you. Why didn't you invite me?" Jeff joked, playfully nudging Blaine's arm.
"Are you serious? Never mind." Blaine began to pace the kitchen, and Jeff watched him from his perch on the stool.
"Are you going to tell me what happened while you were there? Or am I expected to let my imagination run wild? Believe me, I'm sure what actually happened is a lot more tame than what I can come up with."
Blaine stopped and glared at him. "There was a queen there named Elle. Well, Kurt, but Elle is her - his - stage name."
"I see."
"I've never met anyone so beautiful before."
"Are we becoming shallow, Blaine?"
"No, I -"
"I'm kidding. Shut up - for your own good. So, you went to this club, met a guy dressed as a woman, and fell head over heels for him. Of course, he was the one in the heels, am I right?"
Blaine huffed in annoyance but then sat down on the stool next to Jeff, slouching in defeat. "Yeah." He brought his beer to his mouth, gulping it down rapidly.
"Ask him out."
Blaine nearly spit out his beer all over Jeff. "What?! I can't! You know that, Jeff. No one at work knows I'm gay, my family doesn't know...how am I supposed to date someone when I'm not out? I'm not doing it."
"You're unhappy, Blaine."
"Stop, you don't -"
"It kills me to see you like this, and I understand that you're not ready and you're scared, but I want you to think about it. Maybe you could come out soon...?" Jeff's eyes were full of concern, not pity, and Blaine allowed himself to consider his friend's words.
"I know you mean well, but it's just not going to happen. You know how long it took me just to tell you, and I already know my father will disown me." A lump began to form in Blaine's throat, and he felt like he was choking on his words. "I've been working my ass off just to keep him off my back and to mold myself into what I'm supposed to be. It's just - it's not fair. Nothing is fair." Blaine's eyes began to well up with tears, and he sniffed, blinking hard to keep them in. "I'm sorry. God, I'm such a mess."
"I'm not going to pressure you, but I think you're a grenade with the pin pulled, onedropaway from an explosion. And when you do blow up, it's not going to be pretty. I say these things because I care about you, Blaine. I wish you could see that."
"No, I know, I know." Blaine pinched the bridge of his nose. "I'll figure it out."
"You're planning to go see him again, aren't you?" Jeff asked.
"Yes," Blaine admitted, his voice cracking.
"Must have been a really good show."
"It was."
"Don't get into anything that's going to hurt you, Blaine. More than anything, I want you to go, to break out of your shell and live a little. But don't fall too hard...don't make things harder on yourself. Please."
"I won't. I just - I want to see him again. That's all."
"Well, I've gotta get going. I would love to stay, but I have to work an early shift. Let me know what happens...?" Jeff smiled as he stood up, in his eyes, a question.
"I will. Definitely."
He reached out, leaned forward, and hugged Blaine, wrapping him in a tight embrace for just a little longer than usual, and then pulled away.
When the door of Blaine's apartment clicked closed upon Jeff's departure, the remainder of the six-pack still sat on the counter, ever so tempting. Blaine eyed the four bottles warily, chugged the rest of the beer from the bottle in his hand, and then reached over to pop the cap off another to drink it down despite the sour feeling in his stomach.
-s-
As the weekend drew nearer, Blaine grew more anxious. When he woke up on Friday morning, he practically hopped out of bed, rushing right into his routine, almost as if the faster he moved, the faster the time would pass. But it only made him a half hour earlier to work than usual, the time still crawling along at its usual snail's pace.
He daydreamed his way through paperwork and knew that he had been on two phone conferences but couldn't remember for the life of him what had been discussed during each one.
But a distraction had never been so welcome, so wonderful.
When he arrived home that evening, his belly was so atwitter from nerves that he had no appetite, but he forced himself to eat a bagel and a few veggie crisps. He knew he needed something in his stomach or he might become sick.
This time around, Blaine took almost an hour putting together an outfit and styling his hair because he felt the need to make an impression. He didn't know anything about the other man yet, but Kurt was already making him think and do crazy things, making him feel terrifying things he hadn't before.
And at 8:30PM on the dot, Blaine left his apartment.
The trip to the club was a blur, and Blaine quickly found his same seat from his previous visits, happy to have made it before the show was scheduled to begin. He opened a tab at the bar and ordered his first drink, which he downed way too quickly. His virtually empty stomach sent the alcohol straight to his bloodstream and into his brain, and Blaine, against his better judgment, ordered another drink, deciding he would nurse this one. The last thing he wanted was to make himself sick, but he still needed to drink to relax.
People were bustling about the club, and Blaine noticed that some of the performers were wandering around as well. His heart immediately picked up its pace when he felt a spark of hope that maybe, just maybe Kurt was out here somewhere. But where? He looked around, trying not to appear desperate, but then the lights dimmed, and the MC came out to start the show.
"You're back."
Blaine jumped at the familiar voice and turned in his seat to see none other than Elle. "Yeah, I am."
"Did you know it was my birthday?" she purred. "Well, my birthday was on Wednesday, but everyone knows the weekend is for celebrating."
"Really? Happy, um, belated birthday. Aren't you supposed to be backstage right now?" Blaine asked. He didn't know why he asked that, but he just didn't know what else to say.
"I'm sort of a very important person, you see? I can go where I please and do what I please," she said, narrowing her eyes. "I've got something special planned for tonight. Two songs that I hope you'll find to your liking." Just then, she booped Blaine on the nose with her index finger and playfully scrunched her face at Blaine's startled reaction. "Relax, sweetheart. Why are you so jumpy?"
"I'm not. I just wasn't - I'm not used to -"
"Being touched? I apologize. I get a little carried away sometimes. The regulars here are used to me, but I guess I need to behave myself."
"No, you're fine," Blaine said. He paused to take in Elle's costume of the night. She was adorned in a chiffon sapphire gown with a lace overlay and rhinestones on the fitted bodice. The slit in the skirt ran even higher this time, and Blaine tried desperately not to stare at her exposed thigh.
"You're not so bad yourself," she jested, noticing Blaine's roaming eyes. "I'd love to stay and chat with you, darling, but I'm up in a few. Hope you enjoy yourself." With that, she turned, and Blaine watched her hips sway side to side as she strutted so precisely in her silver heels, better at it and more poised than any woman he had seen on the street or in the office. It was admirable. And then she was gone, and he felt like a child whose favorite toy had just been ripped away from him.
Blaine drank through the next act, and then the MC resurfaced and took the stage to announce the featured performer of the evening.
"Tonight, our next very important lady is paying tribute to the late Freddie Mercury, a man we all adore so very much, our Queen of queens, who lives on forever in our hearts. Please welcome the Wicked Bitch of the West, Elle Fabala!"
"Hello, boys," she said over the raucous applause and catcalls. "Settle down now. You don't want to get too excited." She winked. "Shall I jump right in?" More cheers went up, and the music started.
Elle sang her way through Killer Queen without missing a word or a beat, and Blaine was impressed. He tapped his foot in time and stared, head in hand and mind comfortably numb from the drinks. Then she transitioned right into her second song, and Blaine felt like the floor suddenly dropped out from beneath him.
"I can dim the lights and sing you songs full of sad things
We can do the tango just for two
I can serenade and gently play on your heart strings
Be your Valentino just for you
Ooh love - Ooh Loverboy
What're you doin' tonight, hey boy -
Set my alarm, turn on my charm
That's because I'm a good old-fashioned loverboy..."
Then Elle looked directly at him, their eyes locking, as she sang the next verse. Blaine's body was on fire, his heart beating to burst in his chest. God, he didn't know if it was just his alcohol-addled mind, but he was letting the song pour into him, those eyes, those lips, chest, legs... He wanted to touch, to feel. Blaine's eyes locked on Elle's mouth as she sang out the final chorus, and he'd never felt so lustful in his life. He wanted to jump up from his seat, leap onto the stage, and press his mouth to hers, take her right there.
No. No. Stop.
He closed his eyes, his hands gripping the arms of his chair so tightly that his knuckles were white. Blaine bit down on the inside of his mouth and tried to will away the unwanted thoughts. He wanted to feel it, but he couldn't let himself feel it. When he opened his eyes, Elle was already making her rounds, visiting each table and chatting with the guests.
Then he saw her lean down, just like she had done with him before, and whisper something into a man's ear. And he laughed.
Blaine felt like he had just swallowed acid. His stomach convulsed, and his mouth tasted bitter. Was this jealousy? Was he really jealous over a stranger in drag?
Her heels clicked on the floor nearby, and then Elle was at Blaine's table again. He felt himself exhale in relief. All her attention was on him now, her flirtations for only him.
"Are you having fun?" she asked.
"Yes, yes I am. Are you? I mean, because it's your birthday and all," Blaine said.
"Honey, this is what I live for. Performing. I'm having the time of my life. But since you mentioned it, there's one little birthday wish that hasn't come true...yet." There was that mischievous grin again, and Blaine couldn't take it.
"What would that be?" he asked, playing along.
"Well, you see, there's this cute new patron who's been in here to see me the past two weeks, and it would just make all my twenty-five years worth it if he would give me his phone number - as a birthday present, of course."
"R-really?" Blaine gulped.
"Really." Elle paused for a second, and then her voice dropped about an octave. "You are gay, aren't you? I'm so, so sorry if you're not. I didn't mean to make you uncomfortable."
"Yeah, yeah I am, I'm gay. So gay," Blaine said again.
Elle laughed, her voice a high treble again. "Good. You made me so nervous for a second there, had me worried."
Blaine just stared for a moment as it all seeped into his foggy brain and settled, the situation fully registering. Phone. Phone number. Elle - Kurt - wanted his phone number. Gay. So gay. Oh god, he must have sounded like such an idiot. But that was the first time he had admitted that outside of himself and Jeff. But what good would it do him to start talking to Kurt? All he knew was that he wanted to, and in his current state, not much was inhibiting him.
Then Elle cocked her head to the side and was pouting. "Was I too forward? Are you alright?"
Her voice stirred Blaine from his momentary mind lapse, and his hands shot down to his pocket, scrambling for his phone. Then Elle smiled again, a slight blush creeping up her neck and through the artificial kind on her face.
"Here - is there a - can you just give me yours, and I'll text you?" Blaine asked.
"Sure." She took his phone out of his hands, entered her number, and then took the liberty of texting herself. "There. I saved you the trouble and sent the text just in case you ended up forgetting." Elle handed the phone back.
"I wouldn't forget," Blaine said. He looked down at the screen, his head swimming, and then the full name came into focus. "Kurt Hummel," he said aloud, but too quiet for anyone to overhear.
"I hear he's a fine gentleman," she said in response. "He's been a little lonely lately, what with being busy with work, more work, and life, but he would love some company, a friend. Perhaps something more."
Blaine's fingers moved across the screen as he typed his full name into a text along with a short message and then hit send.
"I don't expect you to hang around until the night ends. I can tell you're a little tired. How about I call you a cab, and you go home and get some sleep," she suggested.
"Yeah, I guess you're right." Blaine was exhausted, but mostly, he knew he needed to stop drinking and call it a night. That was also Kurt's way of telling him much of the same, and that little bit of concern sent his heart soaring.
Elle grabbed her phone, called a cab as she had offered, and saw Blaine off. When Blaine arrived home, he couldn't remember exactly how he had gotten there, but he paid the cab fare, got out, and ambled into his apartment building and into the elevator. He pressed the button for his floor, and then all that was on his mind was Elle. Kurt Hummel. Elle Fabala. So beautiful. Wickedly beautiful...talented. Her voice like an angel's voice. His head was spinning when it hit his pillow, a rapid whirlwind, and he closed his eyes. Seconds later, Blaine was leaning over the bed, clutching the wastebasket, and puking into it.
When he was done, he groaned and rolled over before promptly passing out.
