Because This Ain't A Fairytale
Kurt and Blaine graduate from high school. They attempt a long-distance relationship and discover that staying together as a couple is much more than a pretty duet performance. A tale of how two individuals struggle with the realities of separation, and find themselves falling into a cycle of deception, unintentional hurt, heartbreak and disillusionment.
I do not own Glee. This is my first fanfic, and I hope you like it. :)
Chapter one: Goodbye, for now
(Songs used in this chapter: Right here waiting, by Richard Marx. Leaving on a jet plane, by John Denver. )
"It's our last night together and you won't even let me pick a movie?" Blaine pouted adorably at Kurt, staring at him with loving, puppy eyes.
"Uh huh. Knowing you, you'd probably have picked some Disney movie which we have both watched at least a hundred times – " Blaine started to whine in protest but Kurt reached forward to swallow his words with a gentle kiss.
"Anyway, I'm saving you, darling. You wouldn't want to go to college writhing in boredom when none of your new-found college friends share your intense love-bordering-on-obsession for Disney shows. I'm trying to help you to embrace alternatives here so that you would actually manage to build some friendships there. You'd be grateful to me someday, I promise," Kurt added with a grin, giving Blaine another quick peck on his lips.
"I don't need alternatives. I have you to share Disney with," Blaine protested. "We can have virtual movie dates on Skype. We can still giggle together at the adorably silly dialogues, sing along to the lovely songs, and discreetly shed tears at the touching parts, just like we were never apart… "
His voice trailed off, hopeful and confident, yet a lingering uncertainty was unmistakable in the tone.
It will never be the same again. "Yeah," Kurt replied, a small smile on his lips. I wouldn't be able to snuggle against the comforting warmth of your body, to feel the tingling sensation when our fingers intertwine. When you whisper, I would hear your words, but not feel your breath against my ear.
"Yeah, just like we were never apart," Kurt echoed, a little louder this time. They had had this conversation countless times, months before graduation drew close. They had squealed in delight and done a silly little celebratory dance in the hallway of Mckinley High as they clutched their scholarship acceptance letters. The letters had opened up a doorway to their dreams; for Kurt, to study comparative literature at Columbia University in New York; for Blaine, to do political science at University of California, Berkeley. Yes, it would mean that they would have to be miles apart from each other for a good four years, but they had convinced themselves that nothing would be too difficult with the help of Skype, Facebook, and phone calls. Nothing would change much, they had assured each other. They had promised to maintain nightly video-calls on Skype, and to meet whenever they could during college breaks. They would make this work somehow, together.
Music from the Phantom of the Opera played in the background. Kurt leaned against his boyfriend and relaxed into his warm embrace. They watched the film in comfortable silence. Twelve more hours.
He looked up at the clock. 4:15 a.m, it read. He turned to the sleeping boy beside him. Planting a tender kiss on his forehead, he started to sing softly.
Wherever you go, whatever you do
I will be right here waiting for you.
Whatever it takes, or how my heart breaks
I will be right here waiting for you.
I wonder how we can survive
This romance
But in the end if I'm with you
I will take the chance.
He remembered the duet they had shared, right down to every note, every move, every touch. They had performed that song together more than a year ago. It remained as one of his favourite.
Three more hours.
"I'll miss your stubble."
"I'll miss your bitchfits."
"I'll miss those amazing curls which you stupidly, stubbornly insist on hiding beneath a landslide of awful chemical products. Which I swear would one day seep deep into your pores and do nothing good for your complexion. "
"I'll miss your far-too-frequent lectures on the importance of a ridiculously meticulous skincare regime."
Kurt rolled his eyes in mock annoyance.
"I'll miss that silly cross-eyed look that materializes every time you zone out into space."
"I swear you are making that up out of spite." Blaine chuckled. A cheeky grin spread slowly across his face as he prepared to put forth his next statement.
"I'll miss the embarrassingly adorable squeak you make every time he get excited…" His voice dropped to a low whisper. "Or sex-cited". He punctuated the last word with a wriggle of an eyebrow, eliciting the exact response that he had hoped for. Kurt's cheeks had turned a cute, bright crimson.
"I'll.. I'll miss your.. dorky spectacles." Kurt blurted out, and groaned in frustration as Blaine collapsed in a fit of uncontrollable laughter.
"Hummel love, dorky spectacles, seriously? You do know that you have seen me in my specs only like, in a grand total of three times right? I hate to say this but I really did expect a far more catty retort from you." Blaine laughed, swatting away the hands that were jabbing at his sides in a desperate attempt to make him stop.
"Alright, fine fine... I'll miss your – "
"Sweaty palms. " Blaine interjected. "You will miss my sweaty palms."
Kurt looked blankly at him for an instant, before realizing the meaning behind that mischievous, lopsided grin. He immediately turned at least three shades redder.
"Blaa-aaine.." He tried to shoot his boyfriend a reprimanding look but knew he was failing miserably.
"What? Puh-lease, we both know how much you adore my sweaty palms. " Blaine tried to stiffle a snicker as Kurt, still looking as red as ever, looked over his shoulder to make sure that none of their friends who were standing a well-within-hearing range distance behind them had caught this conversation. He gazed lovingly at Kurt. You look like an angel, especially when you blush, he had told Kurt. His blush reminded him of a colour of innocence, a beauty untainted by the harsh realities of the world, a quality so pure and precious that Blaine wished to selfishly possess only for himself.
"Hey.. Hey Blaine? See, now you guys can all vouch for me that I'm being completely honest when I say he goes all cross-eyed when he's deep in thought. " Kurt explained with a smirk on his face. Blaine jolted back from his thoughts, and smiled sheepishly at their friends who were now crowding around him.
The Dalton Warblers and the entire Mckinley High Glee club were all here to send him off. It had seemed only a day ago that he received that scholarship letter. It felt almost surreal that he was already at the airport, saying goodbye to a place he had resided in for a good eighteen years, to memories both sweet and bitter, to friends who had been so kind and supportive, and to a special boy who had shown him how Disney-magical loving and being loved had felt.
"Take care, dude. Do keep in touch, alright? And don't forget to visit us during your college breaks," Finn Hudson pulled him into a crushing bear hug.
"Have fun over there at California, but remember, don't you dare do anything to hurt my boy or I swear I will hunt you down and show you my sweet lady fists," said Mercedes half-jokingly as she hugged him goodbye.
Everyone else said their goodbyes, and soon it was Kurt's turn.
"I'll miss.. you." Kurt bent down slightly to kiss Blaine full on the mouth – a strong touch of lips, a gentle brush of tongues. It was a deep, slow, silent kiss – a contact through which unspoken words and emotions were exchanged. But they both knew it wouldn't last forever. Very few things in the world did.
"I'm never gonna let you go," Kurt whispered. The glass gates slid open. He watched the small, slim figure slowly retreating into the crowd. He caught sight of the cream coat, and then a fleeting glimpse of dark gelled hair, and then he could see no more.
It was then that the tears finally broke free.
His hand-carry felt surprisingly heavy. He almost tripped it over a little boy's feet and mumbled a quick apology as he dragged it down the aisle towards his seat.
He sank into his seat and shut his eyes. California, he attempted to picture in his head. Bluish-green oceans. Waves lapping onto fine pale sand. A sunny paradise.
But all that came to mind was Kurt and those bluish-green irises and that fair porcelain skin and his brilliant, heart-melting smile. The lyrics of a song played soundlessly in his head.
Cause I'm leaving on a jet plane
Don't know when I'll be back again
Oh babe, I hate to go.
Now the time has come to leave you
One more time
Let me kiss you
Then close your eyes
I'll be on my way.
He wiped his eyes dry with the sleeve of his coat.
Kurt was in his bedroom, still struggling to pack eighteen years of his life into carton boxes. Blaine had headed for California a day ago and in less than a week's time, it would be his turn to leave Ohio. The silence of the room was starting to feel too tense and unsettling. He chided himself for feeling miserable, reminding himself once again that he was packing up for college in New York, for Gaga sake, and not to serve some jail sentence.
"Done packing yet, son?" Burt asked casually as he stepped into the room, keeping his voice calm and steady to mask the cauldron of emotions within him that were threatening to snap free.
"Almost, Dad. Just choosing a couple of photos to bring over, you know, for sweet memory's sake and stuff…" Kurt extracted a photo from an old album, wrinkled and yellowed at the edges. It showed two people sitting side-by-side at the dining table, holding up a plate of pasta triumphantly. A man, looking tired but genuinely happy, was placing an arm protectively around a beaming boy's shoulders. It was taken at Kurt's 6th birthday, less than 2months after his mother had passed away. Burt had insisted on a father-son cooking session and that was how they had ended up spending hours that afternoon in the kitchen attempting to whip up a simple, nice dinner for the special occasion. Kurt had noticed his dad staring at the cooking utensils and crockery, his eyes full of fondness intermingled with a distant sadness.
"The kitchen smells like her, you know," Burt said forlornly, choking a sob. His son stood on tiptoes and stretched his hand upwards in an attempt to brush away a tear forming at the corner of his eye.
"I'll learn cooking, Daddy. And then the pots and pans will start to smell like me."
Burt laughed and ruffled his son's hair. "You'll be a mighty little chef, I'm sure."
"Your little chef. And your little boy, forever and ever. "
Burt watched his son smiling at the photo clutched tightly in his hands. He walked over to sit beside him.
"The kitchen would stop smelling like you when you're gone," he said, his voice barely above a whisper. Kurt tore his gaze away from the photo. "But don't worry boy, I have Carole here to fuss over me all day. You take good care of yourself in New York, you hear me? And if anyone dares lay a finger on you, or do anything to hurt you, or if you can get one of those nightmares, you call straight home and talk to me, and I'll – "
His son hugged him, his fingers gripping tightly onto his back, his head resting heavily on his shoulders.
"No matter where I go, I'll still be your little boy, Dad. Forever and ever."
