Thank you to my best beta in the universe, Lori, for actually reminding me that it's Friday and I needed to post this.
This chapter explores Kurt's background and history, so I hope you find that enjoyable. Comment and criticise please, I welcome it.
And if you're still watching Glee season six (it's really fucking good) and are a multi-shipper like me, let's talk about the klAINE WEDDING OKAY BC HECK
Kurt and Rachel lived in a two bed, two story townhouse near Fort Greene Park in Brooklyn complete with a small but airy music room, an open plan kitchen diner and two bathrooms. They'd been saving together for nearly a decade in any and every way they could; work at the Lima Bean the summer after graduation, Kurt working a few extra hours at his father's tyre shop on the weekends, Rachel even busked once or twice at the mall in Lima. Their extensive obsession with their New York dreams had given them a decent but still unrealistic expectation of the fast pace and incredibly expensive rates of city living.
When they'd arrived in New York, both of them had ended up working two jobs at any one time in order to pay the rent and the bills and just to eat, saving any extra tips for their future. For the first five years, they'd lived in a spacious and unique loft in Bushwick, though the location left something to be desired. In just half a year though, they'd transformed the empty and cold space into something incredible. It was by all means a joint effort, Rachel had surprisingly great taste in furnishings and Kurt's inner interior designer even found itself agreeing with most of the purchases she made. It was a hard place to let go of.
They'd agreed to make the move after a particularly bad incident involving a misunderstanding with a shady neighbour, stolen goods, a Swiss army knife and two of NYPD's finest officers. No one was hurt, but several things were never replaced and they never really felt safe enough there again. Rachel had even insisted on sleeping in Kurt's bed for three weeks afterwards.
By this point, their careers were looking up, they were free from all things college and thanks to the various savings accounts they'd vowed not to touch until after graduation they could afford to relocate.
Rachel got her first supporting role during the summer after freshmen year, and her first starring role during her third year at NYADA. With her loud personality and clear, shining talent that had improved tenfold since high school, she was quickly making a name for herself.
Kurt had worked an array of jobs by the time he graduated, seeming to accomplish more than those a decade into their careers as far as his range was concerned. He'd began as an office temp doing administration and answering phone calls for a small, independent fashion company after he'd seen a vacancy on the way home from NYADA. The work was dull but the experience helped him move on to become a junior editor at , where he was now.
Well, as an intern.
He'd been there almost for a couple of months now, but Isabelle had told him that he had an incredibly high chance of being taken on full time, wage and everything, at the end of the internship.
The trouble with internships was, he was putting in seven hours a day into this company, and not getting anything back except experience. Which led to him take up a second job, again.
He worked every other evening and Saturdays at a small coffee shop, creatively titled 'Perks', halfway down 73rd street on the Upper East Side. It was lovely; the staff were friendly and so were the patrons, the artwork was gorgeous and the whole atmosphere was quirky and unique without being elitist. The menu was really creative and it wasn't too overpriced for the location and he genuinely enjoyed spending time there.
He thought a lot about his dreams, where he thought he'd be at this point in his life back in high school, when NYADA and Broadway seemed like the be all and end all of his career. It wasn't until his first New York fashion week that he started wondering if maybe he was on the wrong path after all.
He loved performing more than anything, but after his first experience in the world of East Coast fashion, he started to publish some of his works that he'd been too shy to show anyone back in Ohio. Soon, his blog started to gain some attention and gave him the confidence to make the time to start designing and making his clothes again.
He took up an evening class at NYU in fashion, working himself sick practicing for dance classes at NYADA, working at the office, and leaving hardly any time for his social life. The only time he really saw Rachel was on a Sunday morning and in the hallways of the school.
Eventually he cracked, exhausted and confused by the direction his life had taken, unsure whether a changing dream meant giving up on one he'd wanted since he was six years old and saw Wicked for the first time in a run down and far from professional theatre in Lima.
He transferred to NYU at the end of his sophomore year, majoring in fashion journalism after a lengthy debate with himself, and the kind followers of his blog. They told him to follow his heart, accept the change if it felt right and it wasn't until he graduated and got an interview at that he knew with 100% of himself that he'd made the right choice.
Kurt liked where he lived, it had its perks; it was a much more pleasant neighbourhood than Bushwick at least, and whilst she had her moments, he really couldn't think of a better roommate than Rachel. They'd been through everything together, suffering only three major arguments which were all mainly Rachel's fault, but were quickly resolved when she snuck into his room with ice cream and a bunch of DVD rentals to make it up, or left a letter under a plate of pancakes in the morning when she couldn't word her apology properly and ended up digging a bigger hole for herself.
The positive memories outweighed the negative ones, though. Everything from the day they pretended to be first time tourists sight-seeing the highlights of New York the week after finals in freshman year, to the night they got spectacularly drunk and decided it would be a fantastic idea to tattoo each other's names in cursive on their ankles after buying their first house together as fully fledged adults.
During their junior year, their schedules became ridiculously busy. But at the first sign of Kurt pulling away Rachel had freaked out, declaring that they were way too important to each other to let go now just because their ambitions were different. So after a night of ruthless planning and yet more alcohol they'd started a tradition that during every free weekend they had, they would take the subway to somewhere in Manhattan, (decided at random by popsicle sticks in a sock) visit one of the attractions, be it a museum, art gallery or other type of landmark, and then go for dinner or coffee afterwards.
The last place that Kurt wanted to be right now, however, was on the subway. It was always, without fail, no matter what time of day or night, overcrowded, loud and uncomfortable. He'd briefly considered the idea of buying a small car, but quickly decided against it when he realised it would mean sitting in gridlock with the feeling of never getting anywhere.
It was an active struggle to not scream or hit someone for the duration of his journey, and sometimes the subway station was actually worse than the train itself. He was usually pretty good at maintaining at least a little bit of personal space on these journeys, though it seemed as if his luck had run out today.
He pulled the strap of his satchel further up his shoulder from where it had just been rudely knocked off by a grumpy middle aged businessman who almost missed his stop. He sighed quietly, closing his eyes and leaning his forehead against the railing in front of him.
He thought back to his first weekend in New York, he'd decided with Rachel to make the final move in the last week of August, a couple of weeks before classes started. It seemed much more practical and gave them some time to get acquainted with the city as New Yorkers instead of tourists. Mostly it was just because they couldn't stay away and they'd found excuses to visit at least three times during the summer to look at the school, or apartments or the Empire State.
He smiled to himself as he remembered his first time on the subway as a New Yorker. Despite the numerous weekend visits in the summer after graduation they'd took to try to get a feel of the city and the neighbourhood they'd choose as home, something felt different to them.
There were a lot of people, (well, there were always a lot of people), there was virtually no space, and something smelt funny. He saw Rachel's smile falter a little after a particularly rough shove that may or may not have been accidental, almost forcing her out of the carriage when the doors opened. She didn't let go of Kurt's hand for the rest of the ride.
He felt his phone buzz in his pocket, drawing him from his thoughts and awkwardly attempted to retrieve it from his pocket in the businessman sandwich position he was stuck in. He thought he must have looked ridiculous with his arm bent at such an awkward angle to avoid minimal inconvenience.
At that moment the train jolted harshly as it began preparing to stop. Kurt's phone almost flew out of his hand as he tried desperately with the other to hang on to the rail in front of him. His shoulder connected with the back of a taller man stood in front of him.
He rubbed softly at his shoulder, muttering an apology at the faceless man. He isn't sure whether the man heard him; he could hardly hear himself right now over the annoyingly loud and bubbly couple sat to his left.
He shot them a glare, taking out his frustrations on them, not noticing that the man in front of him had turned to face him.
"Hey! Fancy bumping into you here." The man smiled, shifting uncomfortably as the doors opened and the entire carriage seemed to try and leave only to be replaced by twice as many people.
It has been just over three weeks since they'd first met. Kurt was momentarily wordless, staring up at the man from the café that he never thought he'd see again. And whose face was surprisingly close in the cramped space.
"Rude obnoxiously rich photographer guy!" He replied, speaking as if what he said wasn't offensive.
Sebastian's smile didn't falter. "Mysterious and creepy pale faced coffee shop guy!"
"What are you doing here?" The doors slammed shut and the train shuddered into motion, pushing them impossibly closer together.
"Hey, no. You know what, it took me a while but I realised in our last talk, you didn't actually tell me anything about yourself. You're good at deception."
Kurt glanced either side of him; he couldn't turn his head properly because it really was that busy.
"Gosh, I'm sorry. I'm just more interested in other people's stories. How are you?"
"Are you a writer or something? I'm feeling fine. How are you?"
"Good, good. A little cramped but hey, when isn't it?" Kurt laughed, still trying to read whatever text message he'd received.
"Thrills of the greatest city in the world, eh?" Sebastian glanced down towards Kurt's phone.
"But I wouldn't change it for anything." He looked up.
"Oh yeah?"
"I grew up in a cow-town full of narrow minded bullies and assholes."
"I know the feeling."
"Here I'm free." He shrugged, looking away from Sebastian's gaze, he could hear his breathing from the distance. A women shuffled by, knocking Sebastian into Kurt without looking back to apologize. "Well, as free as I can be, since there are still assholes everywhere." He glared at the woman's retreating form.
Sebastian chuckled. "So where are you from?"
"You wanna guess that too?"
"Not really." Sebastian said, leaning back a little.
Kurt sighed. "Ohio."
"Ohio?" Sebastian repeated, eyebrows raised.
"And you're from somewhere much, much greater, right?"
"I grew up in Ohio too, tiger."
"You did?" Kurt tried to suppress his surprise.
"Well, technically I was born just outside Paris, but we moved here when I was three so..."
"I've always wanted to go to Paris." Kurt said with a far away look.
"You've never been."
"Jamais." He replied, with a perfect accent.
"Tu parle français?" He replied, unable to keep the awe out of his voice.
"Bien sûr." Kurt replied, smiling.
"You have a beautiful accent."
"Merci. You too." Kurt said, the lightest blush forming on his cheeks.
"I like a man that can speak French." Sebastian whispered, leaning in closer and lowering his hand on the rail.
When Kurt did nothing but blink back at him, Sebastian realised his error. He was blushing even harder now, not meeting his eyes and Sebastian mentally slapped himself for being so forward. He didn't know if he was gay, he didn't even know his name. Sebastian leaned back to pull his hand through this hair, ruffling it every which way. Kurt's eyes followed the movement.
"Me too." He muttered in reply.
Sebastian's hand stopped. "Vraiment?"
"C'est sexy."
"I'm sure my French mother was thinking that exact same thing when she taught it to me aged two."
Kurt laughed loudly. "Teaching you the ways of true seduction so young? Must be why you're so smooth."
"So it paid off? I'll make sure to send her a thank you card." Sebastian smiled, trying not to overthink whether they crossed the line into flirting and just go with it.
"I don't know, why don't you find a bar and find out?" Perhaps not.
"Is that a dare?" He lowered his face ridiculously close to Kurt's.
"Do you want it to be?" Kurt stopped blinking.
"Do you always answer a question with another question?" Sebastian tilted his head and stuck his lips out in a pout.
"I don't know, do I?" Kurt shifted his head the opposite way, raising his eyebrows.
They just stared at each other then, each waiting for the other to speak. They realised they had been looking at each other with equally goofy grins, Kurt's eyes sparkling and their laughter died down.
Sebastian looked down at his hands before saying, "so, since we've now met fou- I mean three? Three times now, I think you should tell me your name. We're borderline friends."
"Only if you tell me yours." Kurt winked.
"Fine. It's-"
"No. Seriously don't you think guessing is more fun. Life needs some excitement."
"You live in New York City, how can life be any more exciting. People call it the city that never sleeps."
Kurt shrugged.
"Okay fine. Um, Sam?"
"No."
"Dean?"
Kurt laughs. "No, and I'm not named after an angel either, before you ask."
"I was going to say Bobby, actually."
Kurt just glared. "You have one more guess."
"Kevin?"
"Really? No." He deadpanned.
"Darn it. I really hoped plucking a random name influenced by a TV show I used to watch would be it."
Kurt smirked as he glanced behind him out of the window. "Well, this is me."
"Work or home?"
"Maybe." He winked again.
The brakes squealed loudly as the train started to stop, the wheels fitting uncomfortably against the track.
"I get the feeling we will meet again." Kurt said as he shoved his phone in his pocket and pulled out a pair of gloves. He began singing quietly under his breath. "Don't know where, don't know when." He laughed louder to himself then, rolling his eyes, seemingly at himself.
"Well I have no other way to find you, seen as you won't tell me your name or give me your phone number."
"Let the fates decide." Kurt shrugged.
"You really believe in that shit?"
"No, not really. But who can say for certain?"
"Science?" Kurt said mysteriously.
"Science." He echoed, as the doors opened and Kurt turned to push his way out, his satchel narrowly escaping being caught by the doors.
Sebastian stood, gloved hand grasping the rail tightly, confused and frustrated by this complex puzzle of a man who Sebastian was determined to solve.
Kurt almost looked back as he heard the train pull away, but resisted the urge. He climbed the steps quickly, pulling his bag closer to himself out of habit.
Against his better will, Kurt battled with himself for the entire day, which wasn't usually something that he did. He took life on the chin, working hard at what he loved, spending time with Rachel, enjoying all the other perks New York City has to offer. He stopped dwelling on the motivations and words of people he didn't care about, stopped dwelling on past regrets and mistakes, on his flaws and fears and just lived each day as it happened.
But today as he sat at his usual desk, mindlessly sketching to pass the time, his mind was drawn back to that conversation earlier on the subway. And at the coffee shop, and in the park. Which spiralled into thinking about every little quirk and word and unconscious gesture and whether he regretted them. Was he too harsh and sarcastic to a stranger he'd met twice? Is that how he came across to every person he crossed paths with? Did his friends think he was just a heartless ass?
Was he just a heartless ass?
When Kurt arrived home just past nine that evening, he was exhausted. Rachel called out to ask how he was as he rested his head on the door.
He muttered a 'fine' before shifting into his room to change into more comfortable clothing. He took a detour past the kitchen to grab a couple of glasses and a bottle of red from the fridge.
Rachel's smile became concern when he walked back in wearing slacks and carrying wine.
"Bad day?" She frowned.
"Something like that."
"What happened?" She asked, accepting the glass he handed her and soothing his arm with the other. He leant into her touch, placing his head on her shoulder.
"It was just long, and stressful. And I've just been thinking and thinking all day since I got off the subway."
"About what, hon?"
"Me." He nuzzled further into her shoulder to hide his face.
"What about you?"
"Just... it doesn't matter."
"It's clearly bothering you. Come on." She said, patting his knee and sitting him up so they could face each other. "Spill."
"It's nothing interesting, seriously."
"I don't care."
He took a long sip of wine. "Am I an asshole?"
"Excuse me?" She replied, brow furrowed and wine paused at her lip.
"Am I- You know how you always tell me to take life more seriously?"
"And you always laugh in my face and tell me to live a little?"
"Yeah. Well, what if you're right?" He asked, chewing his bottom lip.
"How do you mean?"
"I'm so fed up of it, Rach."
"Of what?"
"Being this person." He sighed.
"Has something happened?" Her face was coloured with comical levels of concern.
"I met this guy-"
"Where? When? Tell me everything." Her concern twisted into enthusiasm and she placed her glass down so she could pay him more attention.
"Don't jump ahead." He said, trying to calm her frantic excitement.
She raised both her hands in surrender.
"We met in the park a few weeks back, he seemed... interesting? I don't know. I felt drawn to him."
"Is he cute?" She interrupted.
"Very. More, drop dead stunning. Yes, attractive. But that's not the point."
"Okay, the point, go on."
"He's artistic, and smart. But rude." He paused, smiling fondly. "Rude and sarcastic."
"You're all those things too." Rachel nudged his shoulder.
"I guess. I don't know. Anyway, he turned up at our coffee shop a couple of hours later and we talked for a bit."
"That's great Kurt! It's been so long since you let someone in."
"That's the problem. I can't do it. I can't stop treating it like one big game. I didn't even tell him my name."
"On purpose or did you just forget?" She reached for some of the snacks already on the table.
"I gave him three guesses." He replied.
"Kurt."
"I know." He finished the glass and poured another, topping up Rachel's too.
"You said you'd stop doing that."
"I tried. But he was sat there, asking all these questions and I just threw up all my walls like a damn mirror. I don't think he learnt a single thing about me that day except that I'm an asshole."
"You're not. You're just insecure and a lot of people have hurt you Kurt. I get it." She said genuinely.
"Thanks, Rach." He smiled fondly.
"But you said you'd seen him again? How?"
"That's the crazy thing. Today, on the subway to work, he was just there. Right in front of me. I have no idea how long he'd been there, I only noticed him when the carriage shoved me right into his back."
"Did he recognise you?" Rachel asked with new found enthusiasm.
"Oh yeah."
"What did he say?"
"He called me out on my deflective tendencies." Rachel frowned in sympathy. "Smart, sarcastic and observational."
"Don't forget good looking." She nudged his shoulder.
"And he speaks fluent French."
"Wow, he sounds perfect for you." She laughed.
"I can't have a love life if I can't relax long enough to tell someone my name."
"Don't be so hard on yourself. You always bounce back."
"I think the last one broke me."
"Kurt, think of everything you went through back in Lima." She placed her hand back on his knee and he covered it with his own. "It was tough, you didn't deserve it. But you showed every single bully in that place that no one can touch you when you walked out of that door with your NYADA acceptance letter. You're fierce, unstoppable, unbreakable."
""I love you, Rachel Berry." He smiled at her, reaching for her hand.
"I love you too." She smiled back, squeezing it.
"I don't know what I'd do without you." He got up to wander back into the kitchen.
"Starve, maybe. There's Chinese in the microwave, bring me some too."
"You're an angel."
There was no sound but the shuffling of plates and bowls before Kurt came back. They ate in silence for a few minutes, the sounds of the television humming in the background.
Kurt shifted on the couch. "What if he was special?"
Rachel turned to him, taking a moment to catch up with the change of mood. "The guy?"
"Yes, the guy." He rolled his eyes, putting his food on the table.
"Maybe he was." She shrugged, lifting some noodles to her mouth.
Kurt frowned. "What if we could have been something special?"
"You've met him twice, Kurt." She said in-between chews.
"You got engaged at eighteen." Kurt replied, scrunching his face at her lack of manners.
"I stand by that decision. But we were in love, Kurt." Rachel pointed her fork towards him.
"I know. I just- I hate the idea that I could lose something amazing because I won't stop long enough to give it a chance."
"Is this the wine talking?" She eyed the empty glass, unsure how many he'd had at this point.
"No, I am fine. I'm just soul searching."
"Well, stop, for now. It's almost half past ten, on a Wednesday. Let's just watch TV and ogle at some attractive men, 'kay?"
Kurt sighed but settled in anyway, finishing the last of his food.
Around an hour later, Kurt began to nod off as Rachel ran her fingers through his hair. If it wasn't so therapeutic he would have removed himself long ago.
"I'll find him again. And I'll fix it. Just watch." He muttered almost inaudibly.
"It will work out, sweetie." She responded just as quietly, shaking him until he woke enough to head to bed.