.
"I'm aware, you know." There's an intake of breath, a shifting of feet. "You and Him, I know." A small smile tugs at pink lips. "I know."
.
"You, You're an abomination! You have no sense in fashion at all!"
"And? I don't see why that matters..." There's a shrug following the statement
Kurt gapes, mouth falling open and shut various times in disbelief.
"You don't...You don't see why that matters? Of course it matters you- you ignorant-"
There's a quick warn of "Kurt." that cuts him off.
He straightens, daintily picking off invisible lint from his sweater. "I was just saying that wearing a leather jacket at all the time just isn't acceptable. This is not Grease, This is Ohio."
There's a huff of annoyance from Andrew. Obviously not used to Kurt's antics. The countertenor makes to go on, his mouth seconds away from spewing another -in his mind- witty retort.
"Just leave it be, Kurt. Not everybody can be just as utterly fabulous as you."
A glare gets shot at the curly haired teen. "Shut it, Anderson, or I'll start on you next."
He receives a scoff. Meanwhile, a small arm hooks itself around his elbow, a knee nudging his own.
"Let's go get coffee or something. I'm sure we're all in great need of it." Maisie drags him away while stating this, elbow hooked around Kurt and a slight spring in her step. A toothy grin pulls at her mouth, obviously enjoying the funny banter between her group of...friends, If that's what you could call them.
Andrew and Blaine trail along behind, left to deal with the mother load of shopping bags that both Kurt and Maisie had insisted on not being able to carry.
Kurt can't help but feel strange at the utter normalcy that the situation entails. His mind providing many other scenarios of the four teens being like this in so many other cases. It's like their friends, kind of, it feels nice.
He feels, for once, that he belongs.
He doesn't outshine, he just blends in, and he likes it.
Andrew and Maisie get along swimmingly. Kurt often catches the sneaky glances Maisie shoots the boy, and in turn, the rather not-very-well-hidden glances that Andrew shoots back.
It's adorable, simply put. At least to Kurt. Because it's normal, it's like there are no ulterior motives. He knows, he just knows that Maisie can feel it too. He's happy for her. He's happy that, for once, she seems to have found somebody who sees her for her and not for her pretty exterior.
Then there's Blaine. Blaine.
What was he to make of Blaine? It seemed he'd got him all wrong. Who could blame him, though?
It's not like it had been a very good first impression. Or their second meeting, that hadn't proved much different either. All Blaine had seemed was a rather annoying, reform-attending teen that got on Kurt's nerves.
Then the tutoring sessions came, with that their...how to put it, sneaky rendezvous? He honestly didn't know. They'd been intimate -if you could call it that- a few times, but not much else.
Sometimes Blaine was a complete jerk, the epitome of bad-boy. But then sometimes he'd smile, a real honest-to-god smile, which pulled a smile out of Kurt as well. He was always left at a loss of what to do. He just didn't understand.
Why?
Why did he get the insistent feeling of, what did people normally use, butterflies? But no, not at all, it felt more like a stampede. A stampede of bulls, or...or horses! Or even better, elephants. Just running around freely through his stomach, stomping on whatever they could find. It left him feeling fuzzy, warm.
Why? He didn't know why. As said before, he didn't understand.
But he figured he could deal with it, keep it to himself. It would go away eventually, right?
"Grande non-fat mocha?"
There's a paper cup nudged into his hands. He looks up, hazel eyes locking onto his. His heart stops, the stampede comes, his cheeks heat up. He doesn't know what to do.
"At least you can get something right." He states, snatching the cup. The expectant stare he'd been receiving looked away in defeat.
His mind doesn't comprehend why he acts this way, he wants to be nice, and he wants to be liked, really liked. But this is all he knows. Don't let people close, then they can't hurt you. Simple it seemed, right? Not at all.
He sighs.
"Sorry...I, I didn't mean that."
Blaine shoots him a smile -it's only small but it's something- falling into step beside him, the table in which Andrew and Maisie are waiting isn't too far away, but far enough to not see them properly, -but Blaine's smile is back and, just for that moment, it seems like the best part of Kurt's day.
He's used to feeling wary, the only thing he'd normally receive from the other boy are cheeky winks and seductive smirks. Nothing like this, nothing full blown and real. He used to think Blaine was no good, that if anybody were to hurt him, Blaine would come first in flying colours. Now though, now he's not so sure.
Because now, in that moment, it's just them and nothing else matters. All emotions Kurt has ever lacked in, all emotions he's never actually really felt are now there.
Pulling and tugging inside of him, insistent, prominent.
They're not going away.
Their hands brush together, a fast jolt of something rushes through Kurt's veins. It's hot, It makes him feel tingly. Blue eyes that had, for a few moments, just been staring at nothing other than their touching hands, look up to find hazel ones. Blaine had been doing much of the same.
Had he felt it aswell?
The warm fuzziness in his belly comes back, -along with the herd of elephants, but the loud and thrashing thump-thump-thump of his heart, kind of block them out- He's pretty sure he's blushing too, with a silly smitten smile plastered across his face.
There's a pause. Time goes in slow motion. So -so- slow, nothing moves, It's just them. Blaine and Kurt. Then, It all ends. Time flows forward again at full force.
He gets whipped straight back into reality. Harsh, horrible, reality.
A shoulder collides with his own. A faint, but still loud enough mumble of "Fags" is sent their way and suddenly all feelings are gone. An icy, faraway look takes over Kurt and he's back to normal.
He was stupid, so stupid.
He marches quickly towards the table, only stops to see if Blaine is following. He's not. He just stands there in the middle of the coffee shop, fists clenching and unclenching, eyes trailing after the oaf of a guy from before with hatred clearly filled within them, his jaw is pulled tight, a frown etched upon his face, too. Kurt hesitates, he calls out.
"Come on, Blaine, the coffee will get cold."
What he receives is a look of concern and disbelief, as if Blaine can't fully understand why on earth he'd let that guy off so easily. He cares, it seems. Cares too much, in Kurt's opinion.
The countertenor turns his nose up, whipping his head away from the other boy, walking directly to their expectant friends. Oblivious friends. They hadn't even noticed what had happened. Fury swells up in him while watching Maisie and Andrew laugh about something or other. Both of their faces lighting up.
They don't have a care in the world, why would they?
Shaking his head, step by step Blaine makes his way towards the table too. Step by step he lets his anger float away, he closes in on himself just as Kurt seems to be doing.
The chestnut haired boy sits down daintily, Blaine taking the seat beside him. They share one last look while they slide their friend's coffees over to them. Kurt warns him, a sharp look etched into his normally bright vibrant eyes. They're just dull now.
He warns Blaine, just with a simple look.
Then, he turns his head. Then he looks away from Blaine and determinedly doesn't talk or make eye contact with him for the rest of the time at the coffee shop.
It keeps on.
He ignores him while shopping too. Only asking Andrew and Maisie opinions -the latter ones being the only one which Kurt actually trusts- and pointedly avoiding Blaine.
He doesn't acknowledge him in the least. It's like as if he's not even there.
It hurts, it hurts so badly.
It's confusing too. Blaine shouldn't be hurting. It'll only take a turn for the worst.
He shouldn't care about Kurt. He shouldn't care about anything.
But he does, believe me, he does.
It eats away inside of him, he doesn't know what to do.
Would Kurt want him? He had seemed rather keen earlier. But then again, as known by the earlier events, he might turn away at the slightest chance of trouble.
Not might, will.
Because Blaine knows Kurt. He knows he's just a stuck up, narcissistic bitch who only cares for himself. The only thing he ever does his worry about himself. Nobody else matters. Clearly.
That doesn't stop Blaine wanting though, of course not. The feeling is still there, it still tugs and pulls and makes his belly do flip flops whenever Kurt's around.
It makes Blaine feel like a pre-pubescent girl fawning over the hottest new boy-band.
It makes him feel weird.
He doesn't like it, no. There's also nothing he can do about it, either. Other than let it run it's course.
And that's what it does.
That's how he finds himself in his newest predicament.
Hazel eyes latched onto a familiar mop of immaculately styled chestnut hair, Blaine trails after Kurt.
Ever since the recent happenings at the coffee shop, the curly haired teen has felt the sudden need to protect the other boy.
As if that would help anything, though.Kurt had been avoiding him at all costs, obviously intent of making a point.
But if he wasn't going to defend himself, who would? Blaine was at a loss. Should he just let it go?
Kurt had been avoiding him at all costs, obviously intent of making a point.
But if he wasn't going to defend himself, who would? Blaine was at a loss. Should he just let it go? If it was what Kurt wanted...
But no. How could he even think that?
What if something like this happened again? What if Kurt, like earlier, left it be and didn't react? What if it was more than just a push or a shove?
What if?
At the moment, they're in some fancy clothing shop, Blaine stopped taking note of what stores were what ages ago.
Kurt makes his way deftly through rack after rack of clothes. Blaine follows silently, every so often helping Kurt carry his newly acquired shopping bags when he sees the boy struggling, or helping him carry clothes towards the changing rooms.
Kurt still doesn't look at him, doesn't thank him either. But he doesn't stop him, he just let's him. That's good enough. For Blaine, at least.
The shorter teen is more preocupied in musing in his own feelings, his own thoughts. He has been for a while, he doesn't notice an insistent pair of hazel eyes latched on to him. No. He also doesn't notice the strangly familiar figure of a person entering the shop.
He's selfish, Blaince thinks to himself, letting out a tired sigh. Would he even be any good for Kurt?
If they hadn't met on that bus that day, or if Maisie hadn't set up their classes, would Kurt have even given someone like Blaine a second thought? A second glance?
Blaine was a screw up, he knew that. It kept him awake at night, thinking of all the times he's let people down.
On manier occasions he's been selfish, too selfish, and earnd himself mistrust. Mistrust from friends, mistrust from his own family, even.
Shaking his head in defeat, he lets out another sigh. He'd never been good enough, why feel sorry about it now? It wouldn't help things, why dwell on it?
His eyes fall on Kurt again.
A few racks away from the countertenor, Blaine is too preoccupied watching said boy to notice a large bulky body not too far away. Eyes also trained on Kurt. A snide look etched across his face. A disgusted grow slipping through his lips.
He's too preoccupied to see him come closer, closer. He doesn't even notice.
And then there's another presence, just beside him. The familiar smell of vanilla wafts his way, he smiles through an intake of breath. The fragrance always reminding him of a place to call home. Of a place to just be him.
He feels the heat of a head laid on his shoulder, a small hand tracing patterns up and down his forearm.
If anything, the Anderson siblings were quite the touchy feely pair.
Other than the affectionate actions though, there's something in the air, something odd. Blaine can't sense it. He can only sense his sister, an overwhelming and prominent presence.
There's also something that clings to her too. As if there's something she needs to say, something important.
"I'm aware, you know." There's an intake of breath, a shifting of feet. "You and Him, I know." A small smile tugs at pink lips. "I know."
His breathing stops, his mind blanks out. "You do?"
He gets a hum in response.
"Is it-" he pauses, a strange, unwanted -but he'd be lying to himself if he said he'd meant that- feeling overtaking him. It's hope, he's fairly sure. Would he finally be able to pursue Kurt freely? Would Kurt finally accept him? Then there's a sinking feeling in his stomach, what if Kurt really didn't want him, though? Nervous-ness, he thinks. It overwhelms everything else. "Is it okay?"
This time, in reply, he receives a playful chuckle. "It's not really my choice though, is it? I'm not here to dictate your life..." she trails off, Blaine is sure he could hear the faint "That's what mama and papa do.." that comes shortly after.
A sense of relief is what overpowers now. He can't help that toothy grin that forms on his face.
A huge weight is lifted off his shoulders. A warm feeling fully engulfing him, making him feel nervous and jitterish, like a thirteen year-old girl about to ask out her chrush.
After months and months of dreary moods and full blown anger it seems now, all that has been snatched up and warped. Prodded and poked. Molded into something completely different.
He feels free, like he could do anything. His eyes latch onto Kurt again. His smile grows larger, if even possible.
There's a nudge at his back, he stumbles forwards reminding himself much, too much, of his old self, of the old Blaine.
The slightly naïve, slightly oblivious, but above all happy teen he once was. Pride engulfs him. The sense of change he'd longed for so -so- long now finally there. Up for grabs. He could do anything. He could have Kurt.
There's a light, joking mumble of "Go get 'im, tiger!" as Maisie nudges him towards the countertenor again.
Nothing can stop him, nothing.
But then of course it does. Everything comes crashing down.
His whole world gets put on pause.
Slowly, so slowly, everything falls to bits.
There's a shove, a disgusted yell of "Hey homo!"
Kurt's posture wavers, slumps, his eyes go wide.
First it seems like he's about to fight back, like Kurt is going to stick up for himself. There's fire in his eyes as he takes a step forward to the hulking figure of the stranger. There's determination.
All too soon it's gone. The blank stare from before comes back, Kurt goes stiff and rigid. The air palpable with the iciness that he emits. It's like he's giving up, like he doesn't see the point.
Blaine just can't grasp why.
The Neanderthal just takes it as a sign of weakness, he shoves Kurt harder, causing him to topple into a manikin, both crashing to the floor.
"Not so tough now are you, fag?" He laughs, evil smirk in place, a satisfied look in his eyes. Blaine goes mad.
In seconds he's on top of him, kicking, thrashing, and hurting wherever he can. The other man reciprocates, punches flying in all directions.
Blaine doesn't stop, he can't stop. He punches, he kicks. By no means does he have an advantage though. He might be strong. But he's also small. The man is bigger than Blaine, tougher, it's obvious he'll win. There's a growing pain engulfing his head. Blaine doesn't stop though. Neither does the other man.
The play button his pressed, and now his world is moving again. It's all real, he knows. He doesn't stop though.
He ignores the stabbing of something in his head, the hands that grasp at his elbows, his arms, anywhere they can, trying to pull him off.
Blaine just grips onto the man tighter, hitting harder.
Catching Blaine offguard, though, the man manages to flip them over, his big frame crushing Blaine, punches coming like no tomorrow.
There are screams shot at them both, begging them to just give up.
Blaine doesn't stop.
The pain at his head overwhelms him. Everything starts fading, black tugs at the edges of his vision. He falls, back, back, back. Images, memories whiz through his eyes.
Memories of how he turned out the way he was, memories of his fathers disapproving glare, his mothers worried look. One the most prevalent.
He slowly lets himself go.
Golden hazel-green eyes look back at him. Much like his own, but so -so- different. They're softer, they show more emotion. One emotion though, fills them to the brim.
Disappointment.
Blaine finally stops.
And now I'm going to proceed by shamlessly plugin my tumblr here, because, yah-know?
becauseilikepenguins(dot)tumblr(dot)com (Now I think I've done it right this time... And ugh yeah, remove the (dot) and ughh, add an actual dot? I don't know...)
