CHAPTER FIVE
Kurt smirked into his glass of water as he absentmindedly handed Finn a soda, watching his uncle and Carole flirt gently with each other.
"Uh, thanks." Finn's mumbles captured his attention once more, and he glanced up at him out of the corner of his eye.
"You're welcome." He replied, trying not to let the disdain for the boy show in his voice.
"Uh… and thanks, for, um… helping out. With the car, I mean." Finn muttered these words practically to his can rather than Kurt, but he turned to look at him anyway, slightly surprised.
"You're… you're welcome for that too." He answered simply, unsure as to what else he could possibly say to Finn. Finn shuffled his feet, looking uncomfortable, before nodding to himself and beginning to walk back over to his mum.
"Wait!" Kurt reached out, managing to control his reaction to the spike of pain that sent up his sides, but he also managed to get Finn's attention by grabbing his arm. Finn jerked away, looking horrified, and Kurt could feel his expression souring. "Oh, for goodness sake, I'm not infectious, Finn."
"Uh, yeah, just, then why… um." Kurt rolled his eyes, letting Finn tug himself out of his grip.
"I just don't want you interrupting them just yet. Look." Kurt leant back against the wall, nodding his head towards Burt and Carole. Finn followed his gaze, nonplussed, and Kurt sighed.
"Interrupting?" Finn asked, looking back to Kurt in confusion.
"Look, Finn. Don't they look happy talking to each other? Who knows, maybe there's a… spark." Kurt smiled softly as he watched Carole laugh at something Burt had said.
"A spark?" Finn echoed, looking over to watch Burt and Carole again. Kurt snorted, reaching up to pat Finn on the jock's shoulder (and yeah, maybe a tiny vindictive part of him does it because he knows Finn doesn't like it) as he wondered deeper into the shop.
Three days a week, he was allowed to go and help out Burt with the cars. How his uncle managed to wrangle that deal from his drunken father, Kurt would never know, but he was eternally grateful for it for giving him the chance to not only get out of his house, but also spend time with his uncle.
Of course, Burt Hummel was well aware that Kurt's home life was less than perfect, but Kurt was constantly reminded of the fact that close though Burt was, he still didn't see it. Burt was aware of his dead sister's husband's drinking problem, aware that most nights Kurt was taking care of himself, hell, when he was younger Burt had even offered to take Kurt in for a while, but he still didn't see it.
Nobody saw it.
Now was one of those painful reminders; Burt had seen Carole and Finn off and snuck up on Kurt; clapping a hand down on his shoulder. Kurt yelped, managing to morph his expression into one of shock as he swivelled around.
"Uncle Burt, don't do that to me! Jeez…" He complained, rubbing his shoulder and trying not to cry as Burt laughed.
"Loosen up, kiddo! School getting you down?" Burt asked conversationally, and Kurt smiled. He loved it when Burt felt like talking; sometimes he liked to just spend their time together in silence. Which was fine by Kurt, any time with his uncle was treasured, but still. Sometimes it was nice to have someone ask you how your day is and actually care.
"I guess. Rachel and the others have been bugging me to join Glee again." Kurt replied, picking up a rag and joining Burt as they cleaned the oil from the wheels of a Chevy. A comfortable silence followed, filled only by the slight squeaking noise as they worked. This was the way their conversations normally worked; slow, with no hurry, giving each of them time to think with no pressure to be interesting, or even reply. Kurt loved it. This was what he imagined it must be like to have a father, a real father.
"Kurt… I know you're not ready for it yet."
"It?" Kurt asked, slowing down as he realised the uncomfortable direction this conversation was going.
"The whole… singing thing. I get that. But, you know, you might want to think about it."
"Uncle-"
"I'm not saying you have to join tomorrow, kid. I'm just saying you should think about it, 'cause this Rachel girl is right on one front; you would really enjoy it. Even that Finn enjoys it, and he doesn't seem like the most musical to me." Burt joked, coming around the side of the car to smile down at Kurt fondly.
Kurt stared at him for a while, before cracking a smile of his own.
"So that's what this is about." He replied knowingly, standing so he could look Burt in the eye. His uncle widened his eyes innocently.
"What?" Burt protested as Kurt chuckled, smirking at him.
"You want the opportunity to see Carole again, hmmm?" He asked slyly, watching with glee as his uncle blushed and rubbed the back of his head self-consciously with his hand.
"Well… she's one hell of a woman. And Finn seems like a good kid, even if he did get that cheerleader pregnant last year. But, Kurt, seriously, this is about you. Will you think about it? For me?" Burt asked, placing his hands on Kurt's shoulders, gently. Burt was the only person whom Kurt willingly let near enough to touch him. "And if not for me, then for your mother? She would have wanted it for you, Kurt. She would never have wanted you to stop singing." He dropped his eyes, unable to meet his uncle's soft, gentle gaze, and tentavely, he thought about it.
"I… I'll think about it. I promise, Uncle Burt. But not… not now. Can we not do this now?" He pleaded, cursing his stinging eyes and struggling to keep his emotions in check as Burt squeezed his shoulders in what was probably supposed to be a comforting gesture.
Kurt wasn't sure whether he would find it comforting or not, but as it was, it just hurt.
He stood staring at his house for a good five minutes before he could work up the courage to go in.
Which was ridiculous, he knew, but he was still trembling slightly when he eventually managed to get his key into the front door and twist.
He shakily took another couple of deep breaths before pushing the door open softly and tiptoeing into the house cautiously, hears pricked for any kind of noise that is not of his own making.
The atmosphere inside today was less… heavy. Less tentative and expectant, but Kurt did not relax in the slightest until he caught sight of the living room; devoid of any human beings. He breathed out a little; if he wasn't in there, chances were he wasn't at home.
It was Thursday night, and often his father went out; having the day off on a Friday means it was, in effect, the beginning of his weekend. How his father managed to keep his job with his state of intoxication would always be a mystery to Kurt, but he had seen it; the way he had of presenting a mostly sober front to people who didn't want to look any closer.
People like his boss, his secretary, his colleagues. People like Burt.
Kurt shook the thought away, striding into his kitchen and surveying the state of chaos it is in with a kind of resigned exasperation. It wasn't as if he expected anything less, but that did in no way mean he actually enjoyed clearing the kitchen of alcohol and bottles and, he noticed with a wince, his blood. His hand spidered up to his scarf, which had been hiding the plasters slapped haphazardly over the cuts on his neck and collarbone quite successfully.
Grimacing a little, he dropped his bag at the foot of the stairs before returning to the kitchen, slipping a pair of vibrant turquoise rubber gloves on and grabbing a cloth and a spray-bottle of disinfectant.
God, he hated this.
He removed the traces of browning red, he cleared the broken glass, pausing only to pick out the shard he knelt on from his knee, he scrubbed at the splatters of beer, spirits and god knew what else, he cleared the bottles into a black rubbish bag, tying off the end and dumping it under the stairs in preparation to remove tomorrow morning.
He fixed himself a salad, and retreated to his room, putting his music on very softly, just in case, and he did his homework.
He picked out an outfit for tomorrow, ensuring that it had all the necessary features to hide his various injuries.
He made his bed a few times.
His father got in at midnight, and that was when Kurt silently tiptoed down the stairs, watching the shadowy figure of his only parent stumble about in the hallway below. He breathed out in relief when he heard that familiar creak as his father settled his weight onto the couch, because he knew that the man would not move for the rest of the night.
He was relieved, that he didn't have to help him to bed, or drag him onto the couch. Relieved that tonight he did not have to properly look his father in the eye.
It was close to one in the morning when Kurt climbed into the loft, ignoring his protesting torso with a grimace as he sealed himself inside once more.
He didn't usually visit the loft as often as he had been recently, but he just needed to tell someone about this, needed to smell his mother's scent because otherwise he was going to run away, he knew he was, and he didn't want to.
It was possibly the first time in his life when he actually didn't want to run away. He wanted to stay with Blaine.
"Bonsoir Maman. Je sais que ça ne fait pas très longtemps, mais j'avais besoin de te dire quelque chose," He murmured, settling himself on the couch and breathing in her scent once more. He didn't bother with the light, he didn't need it. He never needed it; he knew the layout of this loft like the back of his hand, better even, because he practically lived in here more than anywhere else. Sometimes he switched it on, but sometimes he felt closer to her when it's off. It was easier to pretend that she was there, sitting next to him and smiling into his hair as she hugged him, listening in that quiet way he missed so much.
(Good evening, mama. I know it hasn't been that long, but I needed to tell you something.)
"Tu te souviens de Blaine, le nouvel étudiant? Tu te souviens, je t'ai parlé de ses cheveux, et de ses yeux, et de son sourire? Il… il dit qu'il veut apprendre à me connaître. Il m'a dit qu'il pensait que j'étais une bonne personne..." He stopped, took a deep breath. He gave a little huff of laughter, breath escaping him as he shook his head.
(Do you remember Blaine, the new guy? Remember, I told you about his hair, and his eyes and his smile. He... he said he wants to get to know me. He said he thought I was a nice person.)
"Personne ne m'a jamais dit quelque chose comme ça avant, Maman, pas depuis que tu es partie. Même oncle Burt ne dit pas des choses comme ça. Je sais qu'il les pense, mais… c'est différent, venant de quelqu'un qui n'est pas de la famille. Et tu ne devineras jamais, Maman, mais Blaine… il m'a demandé de dîner avec lui." Kurt closed his eyes, barely able to believe the words even as he said them, albeit in another language, aloud.
(No one has ever said something like that to me before, mama, not since you. Not even Uncle Burt says things like that. I know he thinks them, but... it's different, coming from someone who isn't family. And you'll never guess, mama, but Blaine... he asked me to have lunch with him.)
"Il dit qu'il veut apprendre à me connaître, qu'il me montrerait… me montrerait c'est comment. D'avoir des amis. Et je sais, Maman, je sais que c'est dangereux de le laisser s'approcher. Mais je l'aime vraiment, vraiment beaucoup. Moi aussi je veux apprendre à le connaître. Je suis désolé, Maman, mais… je dois lui parler. Il le faut. J'en ai de besoin, comme jamais je n'ai eu besoin de quelque chose. Je ne comprends vraiment pas pourquoi, mais…" He trailed off, giving another little laugh.
(He said he wants to get to know me better, that he'd show me... show me what it's like. To have friends. And, I know mama, I know that it's dangerous to let him closer. But, I really, really like him. I really want to get to know him better too. I'm sorry mama, but... I have to talk to him. I have to. I need it like I've never needed anything before. I don't understand it at all, but...)
"J'en ai de besoin. J'en ai vraiment de besoin, Maman. Peux-tu me pardonner pour ça? J'ai le droit… tu m'as dit, une fois, que tu espérais que j'aurais beaucoup d'amis. Je n'ai pas beaucoup d'amis, Maman. Je n'en ai pas. Je ne suis pas sur que je comprends qu'est-ce que ça veut dire, être ami avec quelqu'un. Mais Blaine a dit qu'il m'apprendrait. Qu'il me montrerait. Et je veux ça." Kurt whispered the words, like an admission of something he shouldn't want, something that's wrong, but still sent a thrill of excitement through his stomach.
(I need it. I really do need it mama. Can you forgive me for that? I am allowed... you told me, once, that you hoped I would have lots of friends. I don't have lots of friends, mama. I don't. I'm not really sure what it means, to be friends with someone. But Blaine said he'd teach me. That he'd show me. I want that.)
"Je l'aime beaucoup. Bonne nuit, Maman, je t'aime." Kurt smiled a little, and as he stood his fingers softly traced over one of Elizabeth's shawls. She liked shawls. She had rarely actually worn them unless it had been cold and she had wanted to snuggle on the sofa with Kurt in front of the Sound of Music. Once she had wrapped him up in this one, all soft and smelling of her and her perfume; one of her nicer perfumes that smelt like summer.
(I like him. Goodnight, mama, I love you.)
He left the loft feeling contented, even if nobody had answered him back, even if nobody had answered his questions, because he always felt contented after talking to her. After breathing in her scent.
Always.
Before he went to sleep that night, he murmured those last words to her from the privacy of his bed;
"Je me manque."
(I miss you.)
Blaine felt his shoulders slump in disappointment as he scanned the cafeteria, hope dying in his chest. He hadn't seen Kurt other than a brief glimpse of a scarf that he knew nobody but Kurt would wear earlier that morning, and he couldn't see him now.
Glumly, he let Brittany drag him over to the table where Mercedes, Santana, Mike and Tina were already sitting, eating. He was so preoccupied in his thoughts as he sat down that he barely noticed the look he got from Santana when the Latina noticed Brittany's hand on his arm.
He let the chatter of his fellow glee-clubbers wash over him, picking at his food and not really focusing.
Kurt must have decided not to come. Which Blaine didn't blame him for; he could see how scary Kurt had been finding the whole idea. He shouldn't have asked; not at school, not for lunch; he should have offered to take him somewhere private, somewhere for coffee or something. He didn't blame Kurt for chickening out in the slightest; but that didn't help the twang of disappointment in his chest.
His attention was reclaimed from his inner thoughts when his friends fell silent, all staring behind him with varying expressions of shock and surprise on their faces.
"Um..." Blaine whirled around so fast he nearly knocked his drink over; he'd recognise that voice anywhere.
"Kurt!" He exclaimed, as the boy in question shifted uncomfortably, his tray held almost tentavely in his hands.
"Um, I got called back in French, something about tutoring; I only just got out, sorry. I'll just, go, so um... sorry." Kurt babbled, then seemed to almost physically shut himself up as a light blush tinges his cheeks and damn, that really wasn't fair to Blaine who already wanted to hug him.
"No, no, it's fine. I was starting to think you weren't coming, so, I'm glad. That you're here, I mean. Here, um... oh." Blaine turned to find a place for Kurt to sit only to realise that the table was full.
Full of his friends staring at him incredulously, before Santana sighed and stood, tugging Brittany along with her by their linked pinkies.
"Come on, Brit, let's go. I'm done anyway; Coach is going to flip her shit if we eat anymore." Brittany smiled and followed her best friend compliantly, while Kurt's blue eyes met Santana's for a split second.
"Um, here, why don't you sit?" Blaine asked hesitantly, and Kurt turned from watching the two cheerleaders leave to meet Blaine's gaze, the incredible intensity in his eyes sending a jolt through Blaine, before he did exactly that; carefully lowered his body onto the seat next to Blaine's.
Next to Blaine's.
Blaine knew intellectually that he was taking that to heart far too much, but was too ridiculously happy to care.
"Heya, Kurt, how are you?" Tina asked, and Kurt's gaze flickered up to her, a small smile quirking his lips when he noticed Mike's arm wound around her waist.
"Fine, thank you. You?" He replied quietly, and Tina beamed at him in response as she confirmed her well being. Mercedes, in the mean time, had leant over to mutter in Blaine's ear accusingly.
"You got him to agree to eat lunch with you? We normally have to corner him and drag him here! How?" He looked at her, eyebrows raised in surprise.
"I asked." He replied simply, feeling a frown quirk his face as Mercedes' eyebrows shot up.
"Hey, white boy, how come we badger you for weeks to eat lunch with us without success, and then Blaine here asks you once and you agree straight away?" She asked, and Kurt's eyes widened, another blush crossing his face as he looked down at the table and shoved his food around his plate.
"Hey, Mercedes, lay off. He's here now." Blaine murmured to her, and she settled back down, still frowning unhappily, but Kurt shot him a grateful look.
The grateful look quickly turned to slightly panicked shock as Mike and Tina stood and began to drag a protesting Mercedes away, beaming cheerfully at them as they made their excuses. Blaine stared at them wide-eyed, before it clicked that they were leaving to give him time alone with Kurt, and gratitude rushed through him. They were concerned about Kurt too, in their own way, and yet they were pushing it aside for him.
He made a silent mental note to give Tina, the obvious orchestrator of this plan, a hug later.
"Um..." Kurt coughed, clearing his throat and suddenly became very fixated on his salad once more. Blaine stared at him for a second, before an endearing smile quirked his mouth; he could feel it, but he made no move to stop the affection he already held for this boy; so strange and proud and aloof and yet so, so vulnerable all at the same time, from showing on his face.
"Do you actually like that salad?" Blaine asked conversationally, turning back to his own lunch as he felt Kurt start next to him. For some reason, Kurt had been more jumpy recently; even his fellow glee-clubbers had noticed.
"Um... well. Anything else there is going to go straight to my hips. Plus the grease they fry it in... ugh." Kurt shuddered, relaxing somewhat once it became clear that Blaine wasn't going to interrogate him.
"Straight to your hips? What are you talking about, you have perfect hips." Blaine said, without thinking, glancing at Kurt in horror to find a pleased looking blush spreading across his face. "Though, I see your point about the grease." Blaine continued, ridiculously pleased when Kurt's lips curved further in a smile –jesus, don't think about his lips!
"I think the kitchen staff enjoy seeing just how far they can push it." Blaine found himself smiling in return, delighted with how easy the conversation was flowing.
"Maybe they have debates in the mornings before school." He suggested, and Kurt snorted elegantly. How the hell is it even possible to snort elegantly!
"I doubt that they've got enough brain cells between them to actually carry on a debate, Blaine." He quipped, while Blaine tried to memorise the glorious way Kurt said his name.
He kind of used to hate his name, which practically screamed 'prep-boy' like nothing else, but he thought he could grow to like it if Kurt kept saying it.
"True. I mean, they find seeing what they can pass off as edible entertaining, so..."
"No, it is entertaining, until you realise that you actually have to eat something from the selection." Kurt countered, his lips quirked into the cutest smile Blaine had ever seen.
"Ah ha, this is where my genius triumphs; I bring my own lunch, meaning that the hilariously pathetic attempt at normal food remains hilarious all day!" Blaine beamed, as Kurt raised an eyebrow at him in an expression that clearly said you cannot be serious right now, Blaine Anderson.
Yep, he was definitely liking his name now.
Kurt was discovering that Blaine was rather fun to 'hang out' with. He noticed this when he realised he's smiling, nearly laughing, which he didn't really do. He sobers for a moment as he tried to remember the last time he had laughed, before Blaine distracted him with a banana.
No, seriously. Blaine had a banana in his lunch. Kurt watched with wide eyes as his... his friend? Was Blaine is friend now? He got momentarily side-tracked by this question, before Blaine actually finished peeling the banana and put it in his mouth and oh, okay. Yeah, no, that's not distracting at all. No, really.
He swallowed, crossed his legs, focused on what little was left of his salad and desperately tried to keep his thoughts respectable.
"So," Blaine said around a mouthful of banana, "How are you liking talking to me?" Kurt had to very quickly look away from Blaine's throat as he swallowed his food, his own mouth suddenly very dry.
"Uh, it's... nice. Fun, I guess." Blaine grinned at him, raising his banana to his lips again, oh god, does he even realise what that is doing to me?
"So, friends?" Blaine asked, thankfully finishing his banana and holding out his hand. Kurt stared at it, feeling his brow scrunch in confusion.
"Really?" He asked, uncertain, because why on earth would Blaine say something like that? He met Blaine's eyes, still frowning, and saw a flicker of... pain in those hazel depths before the other boy cleared his expression.
"Of course. I mean, if you want to, that is...?" Blaine trailed off, and Kurt stared at him for nearly a full minute before he felt his face break out into a smile.
"Yeah. Yes, I'd like that." He shook Blaine's hand, his friend's hand, and couldn't stop smiling.
He got odd looks for that, from people who literally did a double take when they saw him looking happy, but he didn't care, because Blaine is his friend, and they're going to eat lunch again tomorrow.
God, I hope he doesn't have another banana. Maybe I shouldn't wear jeans quite as tight as these ones...
Right, so that's chapter five. :)
By the way, if some of Kurt's actions seem a little bit strange, don't worry, they will be explained. His quirks are all intentional! :D
And thank you so, so, so much to everybody who story alerted, reviewed and read, you guys have no idea how much I love you!
With special shout outs firstly to Naomi, who started reading this when my beta probably half-forced her too, knowing her, but I'm so glad you're enjoying it honey, your review was so sweet it made my day! XD
And also to Gina, who also only read this, this time because I half-forced her to, I'm so sorry for the emotional trauma! It has a happy ending, I promise I shall dry all the tears guys!
And as always massive thank you's, flowers and worship for my beta, who has been amazingly brilliant as usual ;)
I LOVE YOU ALL