Blaine loved performing. He loved the excitement of it all, the blinding glare of the lights in his eyes as he stood on stage, the rush of adrenaline that filled his head and his stomach with butterflies before every performance. He really loved the feeling he got when the swell of applause rose up from the crowd after a job well done. He loved every moment, every aspect of performing, and he'd never, not once, felt unsure of himself before stepping out on stage. Except today, of course.
"Hey, Blaine." David flopped down on the couch beside him, causing the cushions to rise and fall a little as his weight settled, and Blaine's stomach flipped over on itself again. David leaned forward, trying to inspect his friend's face. "You don't look so good, man. Please tell me you're not going to throw up. Because seriously, we're on in like, two minutes."
Blaine's face paled even further and he sunk down as best he could into the greenroom couch, hoping that he could simply disappear and that would be the end of it. Running out now and throwing up in the bathroom sounded good right about now if only to help get his mind off of their impending performance. "I might just," he mumbled.
David edged away from him, but the furrow of concern never left his brow. He glanced nervously at the other Warblers, most of whom were softly warming up or getting in some last-minute practice, and then up at the clock. They were scheduled to go second , and the first group was sure to be just about finished by now. He looked back at Blaine, his nerves rising at the boy's pallor. They really couldn't afford to have one of their members get sick right before a performance, but it was Blaine. He bit his lip. "You gonna be okay to go on? I mean, you're never like this before a concert. It's kind of freaking me out. I could tell Wes and Thad, and we could always just change the choreography a little to cover—"
"No." He sat up, brushing David off. He swallowed to help calm himself down. "No, I'll be okay." He stood and wandered over to the table in the back of the room, which had thoughtfully stocked with small bottles of water for the competing groups, courtesy of the West High School glee club, Stormy Weather. Blaine picked one at random and popped the lid open, though he didn't drink just yet. For the moment, it simply felt good to have something to occupy his hands. It distracted him from the tingling feeling in his extremities.
He wasn't particularly nervous about performing—he knew his part and the simple choreography well enough on both of their songs that he could perform them in his sleep. And going second didn't bother him anywhere near as much as it normally would (the Warblers was both the only single-sex and a capella group performing tonight, so they were sure to stand out no matter when they performed). No, he was freaking out over that stupid note he'd left for Kurt on Friday and whether or not he'd bothered to show up.
It was so stupid that he was nervous about this at all. It was just one guy. Things shouldn't be this difficult, and he really shouldn't care this much. But this thing with Kurt was also the hinge upon which the rest of his high school singing career sat. He had to make this work.
The warning lights flickered and he quickly downed about half the water in the bottle in his hand before rushing over to take his place in line.
This was it. Showtime.
He just hoped that Kurt was out there in the audience somewhere to see it.
As soon as the warmth of the stage lights hit his face, Blaine was able to let himself go. All of his anxiety washed away as he danced across the risers and felt his voice blend into the flow of the music around him.
David's smiling face greeted the crowd as he belted out the lead, and Blaine felt a swell of pride at the sound of his friend's voice, but it was darkened with a twinge of jealousy. That could have been him up at the front. The could have been him singing actual words and phrases, the one everyone's eyes were glued to instead of swaying in the background. As it was, he was simply one more guy in a uniform behind the lead, and it sucked.
At least the complex harmonies had given him a mostly unique part. It was something.
And once their set ended, the crowd rose to their feet in cheers, and Blaine felt the knot in his chest loosen. He could do this. They had this competition in the bag, and Blaine only felt his resolve strengthening as he watched David bow up at the front. He'd find a way to get this bet over with as soon as possible. Kurt wouldn't know what hit him.
That was going to be him up there at the front at regionals.
And nothing, not his teammates, not whatever the hell had happened to Kurt, not even the boy himself was going to stop him. Blaine was going to get that solo if it killed him.
They slid into the rows of seats specifically reserved for performers right before the fourth group was set to go, but Blaine was still too dizzy from the high of performing that he barely took note when the first strains of music began to play. He tried to focus on the swirling yellow skirts of the girls onstage, the powerful notes bursting forth from the singers, but his mind was spinning, and his attention kept shifting from the choir onstage, to his fellow audience members, to the crumpled program in his hands.
Wes shot him a worried look from his left, but he smiled back to put the other boy at ease. He was fine, really, just a little overstimulated was all. At least his hands had stopped shaking, the tremors moving down to his legs where they could be more easily hidden.
He didn't even know the name of the group performing. He looked down at the program in his hands and carefully opened it. He quickly scanned the page, and his eyes caught on the name at the bottom. The last group to go, The New Directions, was from Lima. Huh. That was Kurt's hometown. He glanced behind him, his thoughts wondering back to the brunet. Kurt was musically inclined. Blaine wondered if he'd been in a glee club or choir at his old school. Than he snorted, trying to picture the boy singing. He'd have one of those boy choir voices if he sung anything like how he spoke. He had to stifle a laugh at the thought of Kurt actually getting up on a stage and performing. No, there was no way a stuck-up, snotty introvert like Kurt would ever have the nerve to sing in front of an audience. Or do much of anything in front of an audience for that matter. There was no way.
The crowd suddenly rose up around him, and Blaine shot to his feet, clumsily clapping around the paper in his hands. He hadn't even realized that the group onstage, the Showstoppers or something like that, had finished.
But his eye caught sight of a familiar head of hair not two rows over, just beside the aisle, and he couldn't get his arms to work anymore. It was Kurt. Kurt was here. He was smiling and clapping and talking to the woman beside him like he didn't have a care in the world.
Blaine felt a smile creep back onto his face. Kurt had seen them perform; he'd come to support them just as he'd asked. He sat back down and settled in as the next group was introduced. Maybe this wasn't as hopeless as he'd thought.
Author's notes: Sorry it took me so long to get this chapter up. I had to find and re-watch 2x9 because I completely forgot what happened at sectionals. This may be an AU story, but I don't want to make too many things up. That said, you shouldn't expect to see the Hipsters. I liked them, but I couldn't get over the fact that they're supposed to be from Warren, which logically means that Vocal Adrenaline should be at this sectional (Akron is between Lima and Warren), and I didn't want that. I have enough problems with Glee's geography as it is. It also makes more sense for this to be a high school only competition as opening it up to continuing ed. means that colleges and such should be eligible to participate as well, which creates another whole host of problems, and I don't even know why I'm trying to rationalize Glee's competition system.
Also, while I'm rambling, I've had people point out that Kurt and Blaine are OOC in this story. After reading through this again, I've found that yes, they kind of are (Kurt has some reason to be this way; Blaine, not so much, but I think that might be my dislike of the character bleeding through, sorry). However, the characterizations they have now are going to stay this way throughout this story because I need them this way for the plot and, well, in for a penny, in for a pound. So if this bugs you, then I recommend moving on to something different. Sorry. :(
And to the one anonymous reviewer who was afraid of this being a cliche: yes, it's a cliche plotline (it's kind of obvious from the summary), but I hope not to end it as one.
