The Storm: Redemption
Chapter One
By Gayforkurt
Summary: Famous countertenor Kurt Hummel and billionaire entrepreneur Dave Karofsky must come to terms with the past but bitter feelings make a future for these two headstrong men highly unlikely. This fic is rated M.
Disclaimer: Messrs. Ryan, Falchuk, et al are the owners of my favorite boys. Only the OCs belongs to me, alas.
KHDK
"TAKE them away, now!"
Attendants scurried to remove the various floral arrangements in their expensive vases before the diva threw another one out the door. They rushed around and bumped into each other as they removed the beautiful flowers that had had the misfortune to offend the company's principal singer, Kurt Hummel.
As usual, the diva had delivered another stunning performance, his flowerlike face gleaming in the lights of the famous old theater as he returned over and over to receive the shouted accolades of his adoring public. Beneath the smiling, beautiful mask, however, was a frustrated young man who nevertheless bowed and waved graciously to the shouting crowd.
As the final curtain fell, Kurt had stormed off the stage and past the milling members of his company who had waited around to congratulate him. They stared after him in confusion as he barreled his way like a tiny hurricane through their midst straight to his dressing room without acknowledging their congratulations. Some shrugged: Kurt was a diva and some bug had got up his ass and until it was removed, this is what they had to deal with. Others just shook their heads, wondering if maybe Kurt's recent vacation had been, probably, too short. Maybe he was coming down with something, they whispered. They gradually dispersed to remove their own makeup and costumes and to make plans to go drinking and carousing later.
Kurt ignored the whispers as he had done the 'bravos', storming into his dressing room and sending the attendants in a flutter as they hurried to do his bidding. He hated the sight of the flowers and he knew his staff would send them to the nearest hospital and he almost felt bad about giving them the extra work. Almost.
The thing is, when Kurt was in a foul mood, everyone around was going to get some of the blowback. His attendants knew that and had accepted it over the years they had worked for him. The truth is that Kurt was almost never this bad in his moods, but something had happened over his break, they speculated, that made him return to the company like this. His mercurial changes in temper had become legendary over the years, but this was on a whole new level.
When the last attendant had dashed out with a really beautiful arrangement in a delicate ceramic vase, Kurt threw himself down on the couch, still in his last costume change and with his makeup still intact. He buried his face in his hands and growled. Yes, growled, a sound that most people had never before heard come from his famous throat.
His cast mates would be surprised to know that Kurt himself could not understand his oscillating temper any better than they could. His sleepless nights did not show on his face, thank the gods, but they were certainly taking a toll on his temperament. He flung himself backward and stretched out, making a concerted effort to relax; he closed his eyes and breathed slow and deep, forcing the tension from his body by stages.
Ever since he'd returned from his own little island, any peace that he'd enjoyed had slowly drained away. His mind refused to acknowledge the reason for this: David Karofsky. Rather, the absence of one David Karofsky, billionaire entrepreneur and Kurt's very own bête noire. Two months ago, the man had 'kidnapped' Kurt in a poorly thought out attempt to impress the diva. He had brought him to his island retreat where Kurt had found out the billionaire was obsessed with him. After two days on the island, however, the man had released Kurt, apologizing and gifting Kurt with a beautiful piece of jewelry with which Kurt had fallen in love.
In the incredibly short but tumultuous amount of time Kurt had spent on the island, he had been befriended by one of Karofsky's workers, a cheerful young islander, Petal, with whom he had stayed in contact. Petal had told Kurt in one of their phone conversations that Karofsky had left the island the same day as Kurt and that he had not since returned. Kurt's curiosity was peaked and he immediately assumed the man was going to turn up in London for Kurt's new season with the opera company of which he was principal performer.
The diva had been a little surprised at first that Karofsky had not been there at his opening night of Shakespeare's A Midsummer Night's Dream. Britten's music showcased Kurt's formidable vocal talents in a way a lot of other operas didn't and he had been determined to rub his brilliance in Karofsky's face once more. However, after giving one of his most stunning performances, he'd been somewhat taken aback when he found out the man had not even been present. Kurt had found this out by chance the next day when he'd picked up a newspaper and discovered that Karofsky was attending an international conference in Beijing, dammit!
Kurt had thrown the paper across the dressing room, inadvertently knocking over one of the congratulatory floral arrangements and that was when he had started the habit of having his attendants remove the damn things from his sight.
Now, nearly a month later and despite his continued success in an opera that he dearly loved, his horrific temper was getting the better of him. He knew he was risking alienating his colleagues with his behavior but somehow he couldn't get himself to stop. His agent had even called him on it once and Kurt, to his shame, had blasted the older man and told him to mind his own damn business.
"Dammit, Kurt, this is my business! If you continue this way, you'll get a rep for being a bitch with whom no one will be willing to associate. Is this what you want; is this some form of self-sabotage?" William's angry glare had stared Kurt into submission and the older man had looked at him pityingly.
Kurt had looked away, ashamed, because William had been with him from the very beginning of his career after he'd graduated from Juilliard and decided to find an agent to represent him. The man had been his agent and his friend, seeing something great in Kurt when even he had had his moments of doubt. William had stood by him through everything, all the ups and downs of a career on the stage, and Kurt knew he was wrong to treat the man this way.
He honestly hated the way his emotions seemed to be all over the place since the Karofsky Incident – he had taken to capitalizing the word – and he wished he could just come clean about what had happened. Somehow, though, he was reluctant to report Karofsky and possibly get the man and his accomplice in trouble. They damn well deserve prison time for that fucked up stunt, the idiots, Kurt thought bitterly, but still he couldn't find it in himself to do it.
After William had called him on his shitty behavior, Kurt had resolved to get over himself and try and put the whole interlude behind him. That was easier said than done as at the oddest times, Kurt's memory would taunt him and the sound of Karofsky's voice or the sight of Puckerman's smirk would waylay him. He was even beginning to think that maybe therapy wouldn't be such a bad idea. After thinking on that for a couple of days, he'd decided against it. Kurt Hummel was a celebrity and everything he did was noted and commented on. He would hate to have people think he was cracking up. His understudy, a thin, pimply-faced man he had never liked, would have a field day trying to undermine him, no doubt.
Now, lying here on the dressing room couch, Kurt thought once again about therapy. Or, if not therapy, at least talking to someone he trusted who would keep his confidences, he mused. He sighed and rose to his feet, realizing that he had to clean up and head for the restaurant where the rest of the company were meeting to eat before they went drinking. It was well known in performing circles that singers drank and dancers danced to wind down and he wasn't averse to a martini or two at the moment.
As he sat at his make-up table and creamed the mess off of his face, once again his mind waylaid him and in the mirror he didn't see the reflection of the dressing room behind him. No, in the mirror was the room in which he'd spent such a short time over the summer, a room with a huge four-poster bed facing sliding glass doors that led out onto a sun-warmed patio. Out the doors he could see the sparkle of azure waters and he swore he could smell tropical flowers, a scent that had nothing to do with the recently removed floral arrangements.
He sighed as his motions slowed and up from the depths of his mind swam Karofsky's face as he apologized that day to Kurt. He had been looking outside when he had started and when Kurt had scoffed at him and he turned around, Kurt could see the anger, frustration and hurt roiling in his hazel eyes. Now Kurt closed his eyes because he didn't want to see Karofsky's face, he didn't want to remember the man's emotions that he thought he'd hidden from Kurt but were all too clear on his handsome face. What the_? Kurt eyes flew open as he realized what he'd just thought.
Shit, what is WRONG with me! His mind screamed at him as he threw the jar of cold cream across the room, not caring as it fetched up against the door and splattered its contents onto the floor. He stared at his horrified face in the mirror, thinking: Jesus, I'm cracking up!
Feeling faintly embarrassed with himself for his diva-like antics, Kurt straightened up and finished cleaning off the stage makeup before wiping up the mess on the floor. He got dressed as quickly as he could, gathered up his coat and car keys and headed out into the night. The restaurant where the others were meeting wasn't too far away but he still needed to drive as the night was rainy. Hey, what's new, he grumbled, having never liked the weather much in England.
As he steered the powerful vehicle through the streets towards the meeting place, he thought about his colleagues and how much they must be ripping him to shreds behind his back. He acknowledged that his behavior these past weeks had not been good but he had to admit that they had put up with his crap without any of them blowing up at him. He was thankful and he decided that tonight he would apologize to everyone. That would give them a shock or two, he grinned to himself.
The company members, sipping at various cocktails and chatting and laughing uproariously, looked up as their very own diva made his entrance. Kurt was once again wearing all-black, a recent affectation, some noted but couldn't deny that it suited the pale-skinned man. Some of them heaved silent sighs of relief that it seemed he was in a somewhat better mood as he came up to them and slid into his seat.
"Sorry, I'm late everyone. Anyone ordered me a drink?" He smiled around the long table, his eyes resting only fleetingly on those with whom he was particularly close. They could see the apology in his eyes and relaxed infinitesimally, happy that the younger man had closed the lid on the Pandora box of emotions that had made him storm off their stage earlier.
Servers came around to get more orders and Kurt asked for and received quite promptly his favorite vodka martini – without the olive, thank you – and visibly relaxed after the first sip. He didn't speak much but listened to his cast mates with a little smile on his full lips. He did answer when spoken to but his colleagues just let him be, thankful that he seemed in a more peaceful frame of mind than he had been earlier that evening.
The group chatted, laughed, drank and ate and Kurt, once having eaten his fill of the nouvelle cuisine that was just, in essence, upscale versions of pub food, decided he had to say his piece. He tapped his dessert fork against his water goblet and quickly drew everyone's attention to his end of the table.
"Everyone, listen up, I'm going to say this only once so don't complain later if you miss a part of it." He took a deep breath as a couple of them chuckled indulgently. He wasn't their favorite diva for nothing and they often forgave him his little temper tantrums.
"I know you may all have been wondering what got up my butt these last few weeks," he paused as some cleared their throats and others nodded. "I'll be honest; something happened earlier in the summer right before I went on my break_," he broke off at the exclamations of concern but raised his hand to hold off the questions.
"No, no, it's okay, I'm alright, really. I just needed time to deal with it and I didn't really do that. I didn't give myself the time, I kinda just shoved it to the back of my mind." He stopped to take a sip of water and then looked at his hands, wondering if maybe he was giving away too much. These people were as much friends as colleagues and he did owe it to them for the way he'd treated them recently.
"I know it's no excuse for how I've been acting to you guys lately and I just want to apologize and ask you to forgive me." He looked up from where he'd been gripping his hands tightly together and glanced around the table. The reactions were definitely mixed as the others digested what he'd said.
"Are you okay now?" One of the guys from the chorus, an attractive redhead that Kurt had often noticed spoke up. "We had been wondering, y'know, but we didn't really want to ask."
Kurt smiled as he saw some of the others nodding in agreement, their curiosity still peaked despite the partial explanation. Some of the older performers, while seeming receptive to Kurt's apology, still looked a little reserved and Kurt knew he had some fences to mend; a general apology was not going to really cut it.
He smiled as he answered the other singer. "I wouldn't say I'm exactly 'okay'," his usually brilliant blue-green eyes seemed a little dimmer as he tried to explain. "Let's just say that I think I've finally pissed off myself enough to do something about it." He smirked as the others chuckled at his self-deprecation.
Gordon, a baritone of huge physical stature, leaned forward from the other end of the table. "Maybe you need to talk to someone, get another perspective, hmmm?"
As the bobbing heads around the table turned to Kurt, he smiled at the older man and thanked him. "That's a great idea, thanks, Gordy; I thought of that myself earlier. I'm definitely going to give it a try." He sipped again from his water goblet and then spoke with an air of finality. "So, that's me, sorted. Let's go somewhere and get sweaty!"
There were scattered cheers amid the sounds of chairs scraping across the wooden floor as the group rose en masse. They trooped out of the restaurant as the other patrons pointed and whispered as they recognized the celebrities in their midst.
As Kurt tugged the collar of his expensive black wool coat up to his chin, he walked to his car, jingling his car keys in his hand with it still in his pocket. He stepped up to his car and BOOM! just like that, the memory of being knocked out rushed back. He gasped and fell against the side of his car, barely hearing the shouts of one of the others who had been walking behind him.
Hands grasped at him and he flailed at them before recognizing the voices of his cast mates, and he relaxed, breathing fast. He shook off the concerned hands that were patting him and dredged up a strained smile. "It's okay, I'm okay, really – I just need to relax."
The others, after making sure he was okay, moved off to their own vehicles while calling out the address of one of the many clubs where they liked to go dancing after a hectic performance. Kurt called after them that he'd be right there and then slid into the relative peace of his car's interior. His head slumped on the steering wheel as he chastised himself for his weakness. A couple of minutes passed as his breathing slowed and deepened during which he realized he did really have to talk to someone. He needed to exorcise the memory of his abduction and he needed to get over the anger before he developed an ulcer.
KHDK
The club was a popular one and the wall-to-wall bodies gyrated and sweated beneath the thumping bass and swirling lights. Kurt was of two minds about staying as he'd developed a slight headache. He rubbed the bridge of his nose and then sipped at his sparkling water. Maybe, he thought, I'll stay a little and then head home. Don't want to seem anti-social on top of everything, he snarked to himself.
Earlier he'd been standing at the bar while waiting for a table to be free. He'd had to push off a couple of guys who'd found it difficult to take 'no' for an answer but after he'd unleashed a couple of barbs, they'd got the picture. The last one had looked him up and down, called him a bitch and then staggered off towards the restrooms in the back. Kurt hoped he wouldn't encounter him later in the night.
Kurt fiddled with his glass and then decided to go get a refill at the bar. He knew that he mightn't find his table empty when he got back but all the servers were busy and he couldn't catch anyone's eye. He sauntered up to the bar, forcing himself between tipsy, sluttily dressed women and guys hoping to get lucky. As he shouted his order to one of the harassed-looking bartenders, a hot body plastered itself to his back.
Annoyed at the clown who was feeling him up while he tried to get his drink, Kurt glanced over his shoulder, ready to blast the pervert behind him when he looked up into a smirking, tanned face. His mouth fell open and he didn't know if he should yell or laugh.
"Noah! What the_ what are you doing here?"
TBC
A/N 2: Chapter 1 of Part 2 is out. Please, guys, let me know what you think and to those who have been doing so, thanks a million.
TH
