A/N: so this is kinda the first chapter (the other one can be thought of as a prologue). It takes place five years after Kurt and Rachel packed up the car. They were 18 then so they're roughly 23 now. There are a lot of things happening in this chapter and so I hope it doesn't seem to busy. This was the scene, or few scenes, of this story that came to me first when l so I couldn't break it up.
I'd love to know what you think
lessthanthree
Katie
Warnings: homophobic slurs, violence
Song Link: www {.} youtube {.} com/watch?v=Sp5PN1HG_PQ&feature=relmfu
POV: Kurt
Chapter 2 : 21st Century Breakdown
"Hi, what can I get for you?" He said the little phrase for what felt like the hundredth time that day with a sore smile. It was a typical Tuesday. He and Rachel had been the only ones working in the little coffee shop for the past five hours and after this last customer, they could finally close down for the night and then head back to their tiny one bedroom apartment. It was movie night tonight so they would end up curled together on the couch, watching a DVD they had already seen a hundred times and fall asleep tangled under a blanket. Tuesday night movies had become their thing and Rachel had bailed on him last week to meet up with a friend so Kurt was looking forward to tonight.
It was important to look forward to the little things when everything else seemed to be ridden with disappointment. It was heartbreaking to admit but New York had indeed stomped on their dreams faster than Ohio had. At least in Ohio they had had a light at the end of the tunnel. Here though, it felt as if Time Square was sucking away that bright spark to mock them with its flashy signs. Maybe they deserved to be mocked. Maybe the city of dreams was offended by the two high school grads from Lima who thought they could conquer its jungle terrain by just setting foot across the Brooklyn Bridge. Whether or not a spiteful heart beat deep below the bustling streets, it was safe to say that he and his friend had been naïve and were now paying the consequences.
Neither of them had stepped foot on a Broadway stage in the five years they had been in New York. They could barely even secure an audition let alone win the part. They spent all their minimal earnings on food and rent meaning they couldn't even indulge in the viewing of New York's greatest attraction. The one bedroom apartment had turned from temporary into permanent about three years ago when they had given up on finding something better. Being chivalrous, Kurt had insisted Rachel take the bedroom and he take the living room couch that they had picked up off the side of the street. That's where they had gotten most of their furniture. He had long since forgotten what it was like to sleep in an actual bed. The one thing that he was thankful for in his new life was that the jolting slap of an ice cold shower made it impossible to doddle and be late for work.
Work….while they had been planning on dancing and singing and acting their way out of living paycheck to paycheck and establishing a career, the harsh reality had the bright eyed dreamers making lattes for suits. It certainly wasn't terrible; it was stable and the atmosphere was pleasant. Rachel would say that it was sometimes a little too pleasant. She often joked that the owner, Jimmy Jessup, had a thing for Kurt and not in a way that would seem agreeable or even consensual. She insisted that that is why Kurt got more shifts than her. Kurt always chuckled and played along with her even though he was fairly certain that his ability to make drinks without turning the counter into a war zone was the reason for the scheduling. It was still good entertainment and sometimes the hours standing behind that counter could drag on without it.
"Uh yeah, can I get an extra tall espresso with a double shot," the customer lazily replied. It wasn't even worth putting on the smile or asking how their day was. Everybody who came in was more or less a drone making a necessary but insignificant stop in their life to get coffee. Kurt might as well have been a machine.
"Of course, that'll be five-thirty two." He kept the smile on. It wasn't worth getting caught without it. Mr. Jessup took the customer experience very seriously even though the vast majority of customers just wanted to get their drinks and get to work or school or home as soon as possible.
After taking the money, Kurt went over and made the drink since Rachel was busy with the closing clean- up in the back. He handed the man his coffee as Rachel reappeared with the store phone in her hand.
"Jimmy wants to talk to you," she informed him with a shiver handing over the phone before taking over the till.
"Hi, Mr. Jessup, what's up?"
"You can call me Jimmy, Kurt," the manager chuckled.
"Uh, right, of course, sorry," Kurt stumble back.
"Don't sweat it, kid. Anyways, can you close next Monday by yourself? Mondays are typically slow because there's no theater crowd so I want to try just staffing one person."
"Umm, yeah sure, I'll give it a go."
"Perfect. Have a goodnight, Kurt."
"Thanks, bye."
Kurt couldn't help the uneasy feeling in his stomach as he hung up. If Mr. Jessup was cutting shifts then that meant overall, both he and Rachel would work less. Money was tight as it was and he was worried about how much longer they could last if it got even tighter.
"What's up? Was he being creepy again," Rachel questioned when he walked back out to the front. He was never very good at hiding things.
"No, and I don't really think he ever is creepy. He's just cutting shifts again. He wants me to start closing on Mondays by myself instead of with Carron," he reluctantly replied.
"Oh," there was an all telling pause before Rachel continued. "Well since you need to start getting use to that, do you mind if I take off now, I'm going to meet up with some friends I met at an audition?"
"But tonight's movie night." Kurt winced a little knowing that that had probably come out more dejected than he meant it to.
"I'm sorry Kurt but you know how important networking is and all. Next week though, I promise."
Rachel had already been taking off her apron and heading for the door as she answered him. It wasn't like her to bail on him especially in such a flippant manner. This was second week in a row she was going to miss movie night and if Kurt thought about it, the brunette had been out of the house a lot recently. There was no way she was out with friends every night. He had bought the excuses earlier but after seeing the panicked look that flashed in front of her eyes when he mentioned fewer shifts, he realised there was no way she could afford it. In most cases it might be worrisome to see a friend go out every night to clubs and bars but now the thought that drinking and dancing with people she barely knew wasn't where she had been disappearing to, troubled him more. On top of all that, she was lying to him. Rachel never lied to him. There had been some rough times in her life but they were never kept from his ears.
Kurt made up his mind quickly and stuffed his apron in his locker, grabbing his coat and keys before stepping outside and locking down the store. He was thank-full it had been slow that night and they managed to accomplish most of the cleaning before Rachel took off. He spotted her a few blocks away, walking quickly, hands clutching her bag furiously, shoulders hunched, head down. It was weird to see her walking so dejectedly. Rachel had often drilled the importance of posture and confidence into him saying things like 'people will never believe your light unless you shine it right in their face.' Maybe she was just cold; there was definitely a chilling breeze disturbing the night air. Maybe she felt guilty for lying.
He caught up with her a bit after several more blocks but kept his distance. Kurt couldn't help looking around with wary eyes as with each step he took, the neighbourhood seemed to become ominously darker. Broken bottles littered the street, shouts rang out from apartment windows, men dressed in black hoodies and baggy jeans leered and taunted any passerby. By the time Rachel entered the side door of a building, Kurt couldn't help thinking that this area had enough evil to cast a shadow over anyone's shining light. His heart sank further into despair when he saw what building it was that Rachel had walked into.
It was a strip club. A bright marquee was lit up over the main entrance. It read 'Liquid Assets' in bold at the top and then below had a list of girls that were 'staring' in tonight's entertainment. It was a poor and appalling imitation of the marquees several blocks east. It made his skin crawl before it all hit him again. Rachel, his best friend, the bright and beautiful and talented beyond belief girl who had managed to retain that innocent spark after the utter hell her family put her through, had just walked through the 'stage door' of a strip club. There must be some mistake here, there had to be. He must have missed something.
Kurt took a deep breath and headed for the front doors of the club. He wasn't sure what was scarier, the blackened street or the moral slaughter and horrifying truth that awaited him inside. He showed the bouncer his ID, thankful it was a Tuesday so there was no cover charge, and parted the red curtains that lead the way in to the depths of society's saddest fate.
The first thing he noticed was the smell. The cigarette smoke created this hazy poisonous gas of tobacco, cheap booze, and sweat. It was nauseating. He might have actually thrown up if his stomach had not had the ten minutes outside the club to get used to the retched churning. The next thing Kurt became aware of was the men. This was by no means a high end strip joint and the patrons reflected that. They were greasy and grimy, their eyes black with the perversion of phoney power and empty arousal. They were loud, laughing and jeering, hollering and grunting like animals at the poor objects of their distorted affection. That's essentially what the performers were to them, mindless, emotionless, soulless objects. They swayed and gyrated, humping the dirty and used poles, presenting themselves in ways that beautiful young women should never have to, especially in front of men like these.
Honestly, it was heartbreaking. The only thing keeping him together was the thought that these women were business women, they knew what they were doing and he should not victimise them when he had no knowledge of know their story. Once he spotted the doe eyed brunette caressing the pole furthest to his left, her legs spread, that resolve disappeared and his heart finally shattered.
Kurt could feel tears pooling in his sad eyes. He could not help it. He had failed her. She had put all her trust in him and he had allowed it to come to this without even knowing it. As tears began to trickle down his cheeks, Kurt's eyes remained glued to Rachel as if a friendly and protective presence to the atrocities could help make it better, as if his pure adoration and love for the girl could help shield her from her repulsive audience.
As he watched, Kurt noticed that she was actually decent at the job. When he thought about it, this did not really come as a surprise. Rachel was not a stripper, she was performer playing a stripper and she would not be Rachel if she didn't pour one hundred percent into the role. For her sake, he hoped her dedication to professionalism would stick this time. He watched her get lost in the dance, the performance, the character. He watched her tune out the men and only acknowledge them when they were throwing money her way. It was almost as if she was in her own little world, a teenager tucked away in the privacy of her bedroom exploring her new found sexuality. She stayed safe there until she spotted something.
Her eyes locked onto a man in the crowd and stayed there as she swayed around the stage. Kurt shuffled a bit from where he had been cemented with disbelief in order to see who had stolen her from her safe little bubble. The man was sitting in the back. He was young, too young to be in a place like this, with dark curly hair and bright hazel eyes that reminded Kurt slightly of Rachel's. He actually reminded Kurt a lot of Rachel. He had her olive skin and full plump lips and cute nose. Kurt turned his gaze back to Rachel, irrationally afraid that she had been swallowed alive by the hungry animals eyeing her flesh while he wasn't watching. She was still fixated on the man, a look of confusion and embarrassment upon her once relaxed face.
Kurt turned back to the man but before he could put any more thought to who he was, he realized something odd. The man wasn't watching the dancers. He was certainly nursing a drunken mind and a state of arousal like the other patrons but it didn't seem as if it was the dancers that were doing it for him. It was the other men. The guy was getting off on watching the men around him get off ogling the dancers.
Kurt suddenly felt a surge of empathy for the man who he had only minutes ago wanted to destroy for tearing away Rachel's focus, surly the only thing keeping her alive. It was no fun to be closeted and this guy had to be a strong case if the only place where he could get relief was at a straight strip club while pretending to watch the girls.
Kurt didn't get long to contemplate the empty life of the lost man before all hell broke loose. It was hard to imagine this place falling further into the fiery depths but he guessed that homosexuality mixed with ignorant animals will do just that. Kurt didn't see who but someone besides him and Rachel must have realised what this man was doing and within seconds he had become the prey to feast upon.
"How do you like me now, you little faggot?"
"You worthless piece of shit, leering at our dicks like that. Only those whores on stage are allowed to suck them."
"We're going to teach you a lesson about what happens to filthy cumsluts like you. Do you know what happens fag? Do you? They get beaten to death because that's where they belong."
Kurt could see the punches flying, legs swinging and bottles breaking. He could hear the shouts of the poor man, screaming in fear and pain. The bouncers seemed to have little interest and sat contently at the bar waiting for the brawl to sort itself out. The pack of hyenas eventually dragged the man out into the blackened street. They seemed to prefer the man to have a concrete pillow instead of a cushy chair.
It all seemed to take place in slow motion and at the same time in the blink of an eye. The horrific slaughter seemed to imprint in his mind holding it there longer and yet there was no time to breath or think or do anything but stare at the blatant homophobic attack. After what seemed like hours, the sirens from the approaching police car scared the predators away and Kurt finally got a glimpse of the damage before the officers began to tend to him. There was blood everywhere, his clothes looked torn, and he was clutching his chest. An ambulance showed up shortly after. Kurt had almost forgotten about Rachel until the girl came running frantically out of the building calling out to the man now being lifted onto a stretcher.… "BLAINE! Oh my God, Blaine! Wait, wait no, wait, that's, that's my brother! That's my baby brother!"