May 2016, New York
"Hello?" Rachel answered her phone during a night in, her feet up on Kurt's lap as they watched some re run of Top Model.
"Ok, wait hold on." She flapped a hand at Kurt and pointed to the remote. He handed it to her and she scrolled the channels. "Which one? Okay. Wait, but what are you-"
She looked at her phone in disgust as the person obviously hung up. "Ugh. She hasn't changed."
"Who was it?" But Kurt's question fell on deaf ears as Rachel just shushed him and changed the channel.
The screen showed a crowd, and there was a lot of screaming going on. The camera swung back to focus on a red carpet.
"Rachel..."
Kurt recognised a few minor celebrities, and then the camera swung again and they saw a stick thin brunette in a stunning red dress. After closing her clutch bag, she placed a hand on her hip and posed for flashing cameras. She spun to show off all angles and-
"Santana?" Kurt gasped, shoving Rachel off him to shuffle closer to the TV.
"What. The. Hell." Rachel deadpanned. "How did she- why is she-"
Kurt shushed her as the voice-over came on. "This is Miss Santana Lopez, a young up and coming singer who has already made a name for herself singing in prestigious venues in Las Vegas."
Rachel Berry actually swore. Then said, "PRESTIGIOUS? SHE WAS BASICALLY SINGING IN STRIP CLUBS WHEN I SAW HER LAST!"
Kurt clamped a hand over her mouth, eyes wide at his old friend's new found 2D quality.
"Miss Lopez is actually here as a plus one, not yet being of status to score her own invite." Santana on the screen blew the cameras a kiss and then turned as a man came up to her to guide her along the carpet to allow the next person have a spot in the light. "If we can get Joe to follow her, I'm sure, oh yes! There we are."
The camera followed Santana as she strut down the carpet and linked her arm through a much shorter man's. He was clean cut, dressed in tailored black suit with a deep purple tie. "It seems Blaine Anderson has found himself a new-old-friend. According to close sources, the two were reunited in Las Vegas last month, and he has confirmed rumours of using her vocals on his next single."
Santana was smiling at Blaine, chatting to him and shaking her clutch, before pointing to a few cameras and waving. Blaine's face went from a cheerful grin to a frown in seconds, and he was soon pulling her away down the rest of the carpet, muttering and shaking his head.
Rachel turned it off then, and they sat in silence for a while.
The small brunet broke it. "I'm sorry Kurt. I know it must be hard seeing him and everything, but can I just say, what an absolute BITCH!"
The sudden change in Rachel's tone and the way she leapt up off the sofa in her exclamation startled a laugh out of Kurt which he couldn't stop.
Then Rachel was laughing as well. She poured them both another glass of wine.
Through giggles, she forced the glass into his hand, and led a toast with, "To our shitty old acquaintances and their stupid success. I'd much rather be here."
Kurt just laughed harder because it was possibly the biggest lie Rachel had ever told. "And to your new found sailor language. I didn't think you had it in you."
"And to that." Rachel nodded, and their glasses chimed.
X
January 2014, New York
"Kurt, Kurt you would not believe where I am right now."
It was obviously not 3am in Blaine's time zone, but Kurt wasn't exactly sleeping very well these nights. His replies of 'where?' and 'really?' and 'oh my god' hadn't yet become exhausted. Kurt still felt a thrill of excitement when Blaine's name flashed up on the caller ID, and he practically screamed down the phone at his boyfriend every time he said, "I am honestly about ten feet away from-"
"Where are you?"
"I'm on my way to have dinner with Katy Perry." Blaine's enthusiasm leaked through the phone, over the miles, and infected Kurt.
He retorted with a grin, "With Katy Perry, or around Katy Perry?"
"Fine, in the same room as Katy Perry with a slight chance of talking to her. Why aren't you more excited?"
"Ring me when it's Gaga, Blaine." Kurt teased.
"No Kurt, you ring me." There was a rush of traffic on the line as Blaine got out of a car. "You think I'm pretty, without any make up on..." Blaine started singing, and Kurt could hear the grin in his voice.
"You're quite lucky I do. There is no way I would let you wear that stage makeup outside of your photo shoots."
Blaine laughed. "Okay, I better go. I'll speak to you soon."
"Alright. Make some jabs about how her album sales compared with Taylor Swift."
"Never!"
"Wuss. Love you."
"I love you too, even if you are mean to me."
"Hey, someone has to keep you grounded."
X
May 2016, New York
Kurt was tipsy, but damn it, he loved cheap red wine on nights when he just wanted to fold up in the warmth of their couch.
"So how exactly did Santana end up working strip clubs? That is a good story to know when we need a new TV."
Rachel was slumped with her feet up on their tiny coffee table which also served as a dinner table. They pretended they were in Japan when they knelt on cushions and ate simplistic meals on it.
"There was a circuit. When I left here and went out, I begged Santana to give me her contacts. She refused, said it wasn't anything I could handle. She was working the higher end ones, but her singing always had to be... raunchy." The girl looked at Kurt, wiggling her eyebrows.
He pulled a face. "They didn't want your Broadway tunes in the strip clubs then?"
"Nope." Rachel turned her head, popping the P.
"So, she was the ear porn basically." Kurt snorted.
"She always did have a nice edge to her voice. It worked out for her anyway." The bitter tone in Rachel's voice shone through, but she tried to smile.
"Yeah."
Kurt thought back to Santana in a red prom dress, waving to him from the stage as Blaine spun him to Dancing Queen. Santana was still in a red dress, she was still waving at him, and Blaine was still there. No matter how much time passed, his present always reflected his past in a warped and twisted way.
X
Two bottles, a rendition of 'Do You Hear The People Sing' (which their neighbours replied with a firm YES), and a game of dress up later; Kurt was sat on their kitchen counter. Rachel was lying on the floor in a pair of heels, Kurt's old top hat, and a classic Berry-esq dress.
Kurt leaned his head back against a cupboard door, as Rachel said quietly, "You know what I find upsetting? You two were supposed to be the ones to stick it out. You were supposed to last forever. People said they saw me and Finn getting married, just because we got back together so many times. But everyone knew it was you and Blaine."
Bad conversation topic, Kurt thought, but his hazy mind couldn't quite understand why.
"Kurt." Rachel was sat up now, an attempt at a serious face clashing wonderfully with the jaunty angle his hat sat at. "Kurt, what happened?"
He looked around his tiny living space. There were only two doors, one lead to the bathroom, one lead to the outside. His clothes were all on one portable railing in one corner, the couch in another, the kitchen in the third, and a dresser and mirror in the last. It was tiny, it was cramped, he hated it and he loved it.
"We grew apart."
Rachel looked sceptical and he sighed, this was probably her plan. Get Kurt nice and drunk and then make him cry into her shoulder. She probably did that to Blaine too. She probably organised that whole thing with Santana... No. He was giving Berry far too much credit; she was just as drunk as he was, just as annoyed as he was about the pair on TV.
"He was all over the place after the first tour. He got a manager, we moved out here together after the summer."
And nursing another glass of red wine, he spilt his heart out to Rachel Berry, the small girl with wide eyes who drank in every word.
X
2013, New York
They found a small one bedroom flat, Kurt got his first job in a cafe, and they played house. They were scared and they were young but they had so much excitement. Blaine would wake Kurt every morning with a coffee, and they would look outside at the city for a little while before settling into their day. They were only 18, but they felt so old.
Blaine's parents were the only ones on board, surprisingly, from the word go. It probably had something to do with the fact that their son was on his way to the big time, and they had another son that they could instil the whole 'straight-and-take-over-the-family-business' thing into.
Kurt's dad was harder to work with, but after a detailed argument consisting of mainly, "we don't have enough money to support both Finn and I through college Dad. I can try and get on Broadway without a degree anyway. What would I even major in? If it all fails, I can always job climb. It's New York, please, Dad." It took a few weeks, but finally Burt cracked.
Blaine played in small venues, and when he wasn't out, he was writing new songs. When Kurt started going for auditions, their worlds began spiralling apart. They really only lasted a few months in that little apartment, but Kurt wouldn't take them back for anything.
After the 2012's summer 'taster of a tour' as Blaine called it, he settled into writing. Late night guitar sessions with notebooks filled with crossed out words. Kurt loved the raw emotion Blaine channelled and the elation that showed in his face when that chord structure finally sounded right.
Kurt couldn't ever get Blaine's songs out of his head. It made Blaine happy when he sung the tunes around their flat, so Kurt would hum Blaine's melodies whilst cooking.
Then Blaine went on a bigger tour after thanksgiving, a longer tour. Kurt couldn't afford the rent on his own, so they moved out, and Blaine left his stuff at Kurt's new bedsit whilst he travelled. It seemed smart at the time.
Then commercial deals popped up, and Blaine was wanted to perform at this and that venue. Then various shows wanted him, then radios, and then he launched an album and the distance widened. Blaine was jetting off from place to place, and Kurt stayed in his empty bedsit staring at the four walls.
On the weekends Blaine returned to the city, Kurt was happier. But there was urgency in each kiss, in each touch, and soon Kurt found what it was. Regret. Guilt for not being there more; a softer sadness.
When Kurt got a call that Blaine was considering moving out to LA at the advice of his new publicist, (really, when had that happened?) and he wanted Kurt to come out with him, Kurt said no.
New York was Kurt's dream. He had held onto it when Ohio dragged him down. Before Blaine, New York, with its flashing lights and packed streets, was Kurt's lifeline. He wasn't about to give it up. Sitting in his bedroom in Ohio, he knew he could crack the city; he just had to try a little harder. He owed it to the boy in the dumpster who spoke out with a confidence he never truly felt.
They went home together for Christmas, and they saw the New Year in at Times Square just like they had the year before.
As 2014 settled in, Blaine started boxing up some of his things, but left enough at Kurt's to keep them tied. Neither wanted to say goodbye just yet, and they were willing to try to make it work a little longer.
Anyone he vaguely knew asked after Blaine after that. Blaine this, and Blaine that, and Kurt was fed up with no-one seeing his dream being shattered slowly along with the other half of himself that was on the wrong coast.
Blaine was a musician, and wrote some more songs, which he then played to Kurt down the phone.
Kurt was an actor. He listened and didn't let the pain show in his voice.
But they held on for another year.
X
November 2014, New York
Kurt stared at a paper in front of him and pulled out his phone.
"Oh, hey Kurt."
"I... I didn't know you were in the city."
"I didn't think you wanted to see me." Cold, Blaine was cold. He was closed and Kurt couldn't get past the front like he had done so many times before. The phone, Kurt knew, was the problem.
"Why on earth would you think that?" His voice rose and people in the tiny newsagents looked at him.
And then there were lists coming out of Blaine's mouth, and Kurt was rooted to the spot, still staring at the 'Blaine Anderson Plays Small New York Show' headline.
Blaine said, "What even are we anymore Kurt? I haven't seen you properly for about six months."
Kurt's grip tightened on his coffee cup as his stomach plummeted. He knew this would happen eventually. But he didn't expect it to be over the phone whilst it was raining and heck; he never expected it to happen this soon.
Then Blaine was saying, "I can't keep doing this. I'm busy."
Then, "I love you, I miss you, but I can't. Ring me back later."
And Kurt didn't.
X
It hurts, when you realise your dream is being passed around, broken and shared with others. Rachel clutched at hers and refused to let anyone take it from her, but Blaine had just stumbled into his. Kurt was supposed to be the star. Blaine was going to get a nice safe job, and when they went out together, Kurt was going to be the one getting recognised.
It wasn't as if he scorned Blaine's talent, it was just that he had cast Blaine little late to the Kurt Hummel Big Broadway Dream and a side part was all that could be written in. It was the Kurt Hummel Dream anyway, not the Blaine Anderson Show.
Kurt hated himself every time Blaine's voice came on the radio and he turned it off. He was jealous; he was bitter. He brought Blaine's album in each shop he saw it in, as redemption.
I'm thinking, maybe four parts? possibly five if I get any more fluffy flash back ideas from good times.
Review?