Title: Unwanted
Pairing: Blaine/Kurt
Summary: Blaine is eleven when his parents kick him out of the house. His social worker manages to find him a new home with a more accepting couple. As Blaine grows up, he deals with the effects of being an unwanted child, and how to feel loved by his new family. Along the way, he meets boy who challenges everything he knows about love and relationships.
Author's note:
A few very important things! 1. I am really sorry for the long delay. Being in school has given me almost no time to write. I'm taking Statistics this quarter, and it's really kicking my butt. I'm taking the maximum amount of credits my university allows for a quarter, and it's just been really stressful. Also, I hate this chapter, because I'm bored with it, so I had the WORST writer's block for ages. 2. I'm thinking of rewriting the first couple chapters, because I'm unhappy with the way they came out. Please let me know your thoughts on this. 3. If you're still reading, thank you for bearing with me, with the delay especially. I love you all.
Kurt didn't see any sign of Blaine the next morning before he went home. While he wanted nothing more than to think about and analyze his experiences at the Berry home, he had far too much on his plate that weekend to do so. Carole's birthday was coming up, which meant he had to assist both Finn and Burt in picking out presents, not to mention his Trig quiz on Monday. Every so often, though, he'd have a spare second and he would find his mind wandering ever so slightly to his Friday night. But then he'd remember it was his turn to unload this dishwasher, or that he'd promised to call Mercedes, and his attention would once again be pulled.
By Monday morning, he was confident that after his expert avoiding that weekend, he had to be cured of his silly infatuation. It was just a phase, of course, he tried to reassure himself as he drove to school that morning. It was idle curiosity.
He didn't have to wait very long to be proven wrong.
As Kurt stepped out of his navigator that morning, he was greeted by the familiar sight of the back of Blaine Anderson's gelled head. Kurt felt his stomach tighten, and the questions he'd been repressing all weekend flutter back into his head. There was the minor curiosity that came from their different last names, but more than that, Kurt couldn't get Rachel's words about her brother out of his head—Who does he go to?
Kurt's day went as well as could be expected—for a Monday. His trig test wasn't even that bad. Regardless, but the end of the day, he just felt on edge. He was grumpy.
"Well, someone has a case of the Mondays," Rachel commented upon entering the choir room, and seeing the sour expression on his face.
"We can't all shoot sunshine out of our asses all the time, Berry," Santana cut in, obviously in a similar mood as Kurt. Kurt couldn't help but crack a smile at that. Before he could come up with some clever commentary to add to the discussion, Mr. Schuester bounded into the room.
"I have some exciting news!" Mr. Schue said, clapping his hands together and taking his place at the center of the room.
"You're giving the leprechauns who run your vest factory a raise?" Santana question dryly, lifting an eyebrow. Her Monday must have really sucked, Kurt thought, as his mind wandered back to his own start of the week.
"Everyone knows that leprechauns only accept payment in the form of marshmallows," Brittany cut in, her voice blank.
Mr. Schuester disregarded both statements. "People have been using our Sectionals suggestion box!"
The room was quiet with confused silence.
"We have a suggestion box?" Tina asked, finally.
"And people—who aren't us, I'm assuming, since it doesn't sound like anyone here knew about it—are using it?" Artie asked, equally surprised.
Mr. Schue looked mildly put out at their comments. "Come on guys, the suggestion box I said would be sitting outside of my office this semester? In order to provide a low-stress, anonymous format to express your ideas and opinions...?" He stopped, glancing hopefully around the room, as if his words would spark someone's memory. "No? Okay, so it's not ringing any bells. Well, I guess that's okay, because we still have some." He grabbed a plain black shoebox off of the piano that had a hole cut out on top and the word Glee Suggestions written on the side, and gave it an experimental shake. What sounded like a few pieces of paper fluttered about inside of it.
Kurt felt an overwhelming skepticism as Mr. Schuester lifted the lid of the box. If none of the glee members were offering suggestions, then no one was offering them. Which would mean that there was probably just a whole lot of abuse in that shoebox.
His thought process was proven correct as Mr. Schue pulled out the first suggestion. Kurt got a good look inside of the box and saw that it held four; he immediately knew that nothing good would come out of any of them.
The club waited patiently as Mr. Schuester drew out the first suggestion. Quickly, his eager demeanor changed as his eyes scanned the page, and his eyebrows furrowed together. He instantly crumpled the paper in his hand. "Okay, let's try another," he muttered, casually throwing the balled up slip over his shoulder. After the second and third "suggestions" yielded the same expression, Kurt wondered why Mr. Schue would even bother pulling out the fourth and last.
Except maybe Mr. Schuester knew something that Kurt didn't about being hopeful, because as his eyes scanned over the final slip of paper, his entire face brightened. "See!" Mr. Schuester cheered, holding out the slip triumphantly. "This is a great suggestion. There are people who want to help us out."
Kurt looked around the room skeptically, and saw that his friends and classmates' appeared to feel similarly. "And what would that be?" he asked dryly, glancing Mr. Schuester cynically.
"Celebrate musicals from this millennium," Mr. Schue read proudly. "See, that's a great idea!"
Puck rolled his eyes. "Like we don't already do that every day," he muttered. "Are we sure this wasn't Berry's idea?"
"I mean, I'm sure the hobbit isn't above stuffing ballot boxes," Santana commented smarmily, shooting a look at Rachel that just dripped of disdain.
Rachel looked indignant. "Excuse me," she said, swiveling in her chair to face the rest of the club. "Just because a suggestion appears to be logical and inspired, doesn't mean that I wrote it. Perhaps we just have a lot of admirers of true art forms who are unwilling to speak up, and would love to hear us showcase my—I mean, our musical talent, and highlight the rebirth of the American musical."
Santana looked ready to bite back with something scathing, when Kurt cut in smoothly. "If I may," Kurt said, cutting in authoritatively, "Rachel has never been able to do anything anonymously—she would crave recognition for her suggestions far too much."
"He's got a point," Finn shrugged, glancing at Rachel apologetically.
Before anyone could make any more comments, Mr. Schuester jumped in again. "I think you are all missing the point here—it doesn't matter where the suggestion came from, what matters is that we have found this weeks assignment!"
There was a minor groan from around the room from the less showtunes inclined of the group, but the grumbling was kept to mostly a minimum, particularly when Tina pointed out, "Oh, this is a good thing! Wicked and Mamma Mia are both from this millennium!" She received an appreciative coo from some of the other girls, and then Artie jumped in with, "Oh, and Avenue Q! Okay, this might be fun."
Others like Santana and Puck still looked displeased, but they were pretty much pacified at that point. Kurt, on the other hand, couldn't help but think of that weekend, and how Rachel had practically begged him to sing "Still Hurting" for the club.
After glee was over and everyone was headed to their respective cars, Kurt pulled Rachel aside. "So, you really didn't write the suggestion?" He asked quietly, glancing around to make sure no one had heard.
"What? No, Kurt, you should know, you're the one who backhandedly stood up for me!" Rachel looked mildly offended, and Kurt had the grace to look embarrassed.
"Okay, okay," he said, rubbing his ears as his eyebrows knitted together. "I was just thinking about Friday, and that song, and I wondered if it was your way of getting me to do it..."
Rachel scoffed, although Kurt could see curiosity coloring her eyes. "Oh, well... well, no, I didn't, but that is perfect. So you'll do it, right?" Her annoyance quickly transcended into excitement over Kurt's prospective song choice.
"I mean, probably. I'll think about it at least." And then suddenly they were in the parking lot, and walking to their own cars.
Rachel grinned. "Good. It was made for your voice. Now, where is my brother..." She glanced around the lot and Kurt immediately felt his ears flame up again. Of course they rode to and from school together. Logically speaking, he knew that, so why was his face feeling hot all of a sudden?
"Oh, um, I just remembered, I promised my dad I'd be home as soon as we were out—otherwise I'd help you find him. See you tomorrow!" He didn't see the strange look Rachel gave to his turned back, nor Blaine walk up not a moment later and glance at him as well.
"Kurt, come on, it's perfect."
That night on the phone, Kurt was debating over song choice. "Rachel, good song selection is all about context. I haven't had any major heartbreak recently, as far as I'm aware, and I certainly haven't even had a boyfriend to worry about breaking my heart anyway. It would just feel so... fake."
"It's called acting, Kurt, and I for one know that you're splendid at it. It's perfect for your voice, and it would only prove to Mr. Schuester and all the others how moving and wonderful you can be."
"You can't see me right now, but I'm making my sour face," Kurt commented dryly.
"Oh, hush," Rachel dismissed him. "It would be wonderful. Please, just think about it. It was like fate wanted you to sing that song, for that suggestion to even end up in the box right after we talked about it. Besides, we did "Defying Gravity" last year, so Wicked is out. What else would you do?" Kurt was quiet for a moment, and Rachel seemed to take that as a sign of his agreement. "So," she tagged on conversationally. "Has Finn mentioned any song choice to you?"
Kurt rolled his eyes at Rachel's fishing for information on his stepbrother, but stopped when he realized he had essentially done the same thing about Blaine. Finn was recently single, and he knew that Rachel had been head over heels since they were in middle school. "Actually, yes, I've been helping him pick a good song. I think we've settled on the perfect number."
"And aren't you going to tell me what it is?" Rachel asked after a moment of silence on Kurt's end.
"You'll just have to see," Kurt said, shrugging to himself despite the fact that he knew Rachel couldn't see him. "But I will tell you, it's perfect in context." He laughed as Rachel huffed.
Rachel spent the rest of the evening ranting about Finn, while Kurt couldn't stop thinking about his song, and how it would go over if he did it.
If Kurt had been nervous about Blaine spending so much time with the Glee Club, he realized by Wednesday it wasn't exactly warranted. Sure, he'd feel his ears heating up whenever he looked over at him, and he was constantly having to catch himself when he realized he was staring, but for the most part, Blaine was quiet and played with his head down. His interactions with the club, much like Brad's, were kept to a minimum. And Kurt hadn't even settled on a song yet, so there had been little opportunity to look like a fool in front of him.
Besides, Kurt could hardly think about being nervous and embarrassed when wow, was Blaine talented on the piano. His presence alone could have been distracting, but the way he played music made Kurt want to die.
Until Thursday. The week had gone pretty smoothly. Finn had absolutely killed his version of Avenue Q's "Purpose" (which led to an hour-long phone call with Rachel that night which consisted of a lot of swooning. "Really, though, Kurt, wasn't he looking at me a whole lot?"), Puck had revamped some Frankie Valli from Jersey Boys, and Rachel had done a number as Wendla from Spring Awakening. It appeared that despite all the early grumblings, people had really managed to find niches in the modern musicals. Mr. Schuester was raving about the suggestion by midweek, and almost everyone had gone by Thursday.
Kurt glanced at Blaine as he entered the room with his messenger bag slung over his shoulder. Blaine had watched this movie with him, maybe even knew this was coming, and he wasn't sure if he could handle the mortification of singing in front of the object of his recent affections.
But when Mr. Schuester finally glanced expectantly at the four members of the club who had yet to perform—Mike, Brittany, Artie, and himself—he knew he was running out of time to avoid the assignment. Sighing to himself, he raised his hand. "I'm ready Mr. Schue," he said, glancing at Rachel. She looked hopeful, but uncertain, as he had avoided discussing the song choice with her. He rifled through his bag for a moment before drawing out the sheet music and handing it to Blaine. "Here." Blaine glanced at the music and smiled at him encouragingly, apparently recognizing the song. Kurt could feel his stomach flip uncertainly as Blaine's lips turned up, and he quickly glanced away.
The only way you're going to get through this is if you pretend he isn't there.
Kurt stood in front of the piano, artfully keeping Blaine out of his vision. Kurt watched Rachel's eyes widen with joy as she recognized the song.
Throughout the song, the only sorrow Kurt could draw upon was his unrequited infatuation on Blaine. He didn't know why, because the circumstances were so obviously different, and he wasn't exactly hurting, he was just a little the line, "Jamie's got secrets he doesn't confide," in the back of his mind, Kurt could almost feel Blaine's eyes bore into him. Was he imaging it? He didn't chance looking over, and stared fixedly at Rachel.
She was all smiles, and he could even see a few tears gathering in her eyes. Woah, really? Kurt couldn't help but feel touched at that. He knew that the context was all wrong, and he briefly wondered if his friends would mistakenly think that he was singing about someone. As he glanced around the room, however, he was not met with concerned frowns, but instead happy, reverent faces. Which was, again, a surprise.
As he hit the third to last note—the longest of the song—he realized he was quite happy with his choice. Maybe there wasn't context for it, but it was maybe at least special for him. And maybe Rachel. And maybe Blaine felt like part of it, too. Or at least, Kurt could hope.
Mr. Schuester began the applause, and the rest of the club followed suit. "Great job Kurt!"
"You sounded lovely, as I knew you would with a song that would present your talents so wonderfully."
"Stop trying to take the credit, grubber," Santana commented, rolling her eyes—it was the closet thing to a compliment Kurt knew he would get from her. The rest of the club began gathering their things, and muttered that they'd see each other tomorrow.
He glanced at the clock on the wall, and realized that time was up. Kurt turned to take his music back from Blaine, but saw that Rachel's brother was already standing, and shuffling his belongings together. Without looking up, he muttered a quick, "That was great," to Kurt, and walked out of the room, obviously forgetting that he would need to wait for Rachel anyway.
Kurt, surprised and unexpectedly hurt, stared dumbly at the spot that Blaine had just occupied. He didn't even bother to look him in the eyes. He sniffed, and crossed his arms, trying to convince himself that it didn't matter. Even though, if he was being honest, he couldn't help but wonder what he'd done to horribly offend Blaine, and make him run out like Kurt had the plague.
After a moment, he realized he was the last person in the room. Sighing, he crossed the room, grabbing his bag and slinging it over his shoulder. Just as he was walking out of the room, though, something caught his eye underneath the piano.
He kneeled on the floor and reached under, pulling out a marbled composition notebook. He recognized it instantly. "Oh my god."
It was Blaine's.
