"So, where shall we go?" Blaine asked fighting himself from bouncing up and down as they stepped out of the workshop.
"I have no idea," Kurt sighed. A sudden breeze fluttered his hair back and brushed his cheekbones as the sun continued to spread heat all over the place.
"I know a place called Jim's, we could go there, it's pretty cool and—"
"Yeah, I know it," he perfunctorily cut the enthusiastic kid.
"Oh…" he jerked his head lightly. "Do you go there?"
"Not really. But I've seen your little friends hanging out there more than once," a light hue of contempt.
"What, Nick and David?" he frowned in thought, turning his head.
"What, you got a lot of friends?" he snorted once more and directed his gaze to Blaine just to see him cringe. Kurt moped lightly at his own rudeness but kept on walking, trying to lift his chin but failing miserably at it and focusing on the street. "But no, I don't go there," he spoke up casually and trying to steer the conversation away from his crudeness.
"Well, do you know someplace else?" Blaine asked in return, voice a little hoarse. He cleared his throat.
"We can go there if you want to," he offered feigning polite indifference. "Is not like your friends infected the place or anything," he teased with an extravagant shrug and ended with a smirk to assure Blaine he wasn't serious. Completely serious, at least. The latter chuckled, evident hurt still in his eyes, but not angry. No, Blaine seemed the kind of person who would never lose his nerves or snap at anyone, very much unlike Kurt. That assumption was what made him wonder about how Blaine could ever get along with someone like him and why, oh, why would he ever attempt to befriend him.
"Are you mad?" Kurt asked gingerly. Despite his statement and the fact that he didn't exactly love his reading-buddy's friends, he could feel a stab of guilt in his chest. Blaine raised his gaze off the floor to bore into Kurt's eyes and smiled softly.
"Nah, 'm not mad," he answered after a moment and went back to scrutinizing the street. It wasn't anger or anything what made his stomach tighten, but the fact that Kurt didn't like his friends, which felt more like disappointment. What was wrong about Nick and David? They were both cool and funny and nice people and they had friends of their own so it wasn't like they were known as the losers of town.
After a couple of silent minutes, they got to Pointstrat Avenue and he held the door open for Kurt who gave him a skeptic eye roll and strolled in, leaving a satisfied Blaine with a perky grin.
They took place to the left, contrary to the direction in which Blaine's usual booth was. The silence remained for the next few minutes as they read their menus –Blaine peeking over his to admire Kurt's subtle tongue running his lower lip, tucking it in a little, from side to side, highly concentrated and how inhumanly smooth and soft his skin looked- but thankfully it wasn't uncomfortable at all and he found it quite refreshing, not having to talk to fill every gap.
"Good morning, what can I get you?" an unfamiliar waitress appeared on their table, looking down at a small notepad though she smiled with a surprised air when she noticed him. "Oh, hi, Blaine, fancy seeing you here," she greeted happily. "Not with Nick and David today, are you?"
"Nope, not today," he shook his head. Linda wasn't the usual girl who took their orders but Blaine knew her, too and remembered her name, mostly because it was his mother's too.
"Yeah, well, sometimes even I need a break from those two, what do you guys want?"
"I'll just have a Coke," Linda turned to Kurt, still jotting Blaine's order down.
"Strawberry milkshake," he decided with a charming smile and it surprised Blaine not to find any mockery in his voice.
"Coming right up," she took the two menus from their hands and left.
"She your girlfriend?" he asked with a slight teasing tone. "And it is back," Blaine thought.
To Kurt, it was obvious that she wasn't, since Blaine didn't really look like he was one to care for dating. It was also probable that Blaine had issues. Yes, cause people just didn't stare at Kurt like that. Of course, people did ogle and eye him up and down, in all sorts of ways and with all kinds of intentions but there was something in this particular kid that threw him off whenever he tried to unveil his expression or find the words to describe what he found in his regard.
Kurt's query, however, threw Blaine off. With all the remarks regarding his bowties and retorts about his staring, he was positive Kurt had convinced himself he was his not-so-secret admirer or something.
By the looks of it, he hadn't. A knot he didn't know he had in his stomach relaxed: one step closer to hiding his secret even deeper and, hopefully, keeping Kurt around for a while, without scaring the hell out of him.
What would be Kurt's reaction to finding out Blaine didn't exactly fancy girls? And more precisely, fancied one boy in particular.
The discomfort settled back in.
"No, we're not even friends, actually," he shrugged. "I just talk to her when we're here and we… order, you know?" he admitted. Kurt gave an uncertain nod and started playing with his long fingers.
"So, where are you from?" he asked then, locking his wide, curious eyes with Blaine's.
"New York," he said and he was almost positive a glimmer flashed all over Kurt's face.
"Ugh, you're so lucky," he muttered. "If I could ever get out of this pigpen, I'd definitely go there."
"Really? To do what?" Kurt eyed him carefully as if with suspicion.
"I don't know, something," he sighed finally.
"You can do something here, too."
"Believe me, it can't be done," he let out, flat and the shine from an instant ago transformed into deception.
"You will get out of here," Blaine encouraged him quietly an instant later and Kurt glared at him with a scornful grin.
"Right," he kept on gliding the tip of his right fingers over the back of his other hand.
"Come on, Kurt," he laughed calmly. "You know better than anyone that you're... different."
"I don't know if 'different' is the word since I'm like everyone else," he simpered quietly. "Only better."
"You sure are better than most of them," Blaine reaffirmed with a kind smile. Kurt blinked, at a loss for words and limited to mouth a carefully timid "Thank you".
"Here you go, guys," Linda came back with a silver tray and put down their drinks on the shiny table.
"Thanks," they both uttered. Blaine took the glass in his hand to take a sip when he noticed Kurt was still staring from under his eyelashes at him. When they locked eyes, he blinked and averted his gaze to his hands.
"Ho—" he began.
"Hey, Blaine! How are you, my dear friend?" a boy with brown hair popped out of thin air, his hand on the back of a pretty girl with bangs so blonde they were almost white and a bulky, knee-length dress, white with hot pink polka dots that matched her headband. They were both beaming at him as the keen kid placed his right hand on their table, slightly turning his back on Kurt, who looked frustrated. "Haven't seen you in a while, going to Wednesday's dance?" he bobbed his head, cheeks red from all the smiling.
"Huh, hi Sandy," he laughed quietly, forcing himself to summon every ounce of politeness in his body. "I had no idea, actually…" wrinkles forming in his forehead.
"Oh, you should totally go!" he bellylaughed raising his eyebrows. "It's going to be superb!" he went on snorting a bit as he laughed once more, wholehearted and kind of lame. Kurt opened his eyes in disbelief, shaking his head and gaped at Blaine, who bit his lip and covered his mouth to hold back a laugh. Sandy followed his gaze still showing his teeth and when he saw Kurt he retrieved his hand from the table and straightened up a bit. "Well, well, well, if it isn't one Kurt Hummel!" both hands went to his waist, into fists. He gave a lopsided smile and looked around. "How are you, Kurt?" he asked again.
"Oh, I'm superb, Sandy," he lazily mocked him with a false grin, enough for Blaine to only notice.
"Are you going to Wednesday's dance?" he leaned into the table again, propping on his wrist still with an extravagant, toothy smile. "It is going to be superb!" Kurt couldn't help to snort this time.
"You can bet we'll be there, Sands," Blaine stepped in before anyone could make more of a fool out of Sandy himself.
"Why, aren't those joyous news to hear!" he sang again regaining his posture and putting an arm around the blonde girl's waist. "See you around, fellas!" he did kind of a military salute and laughed openly, locking eyes with the girl, next, who was inexplicably snickering in return. They waved in unison and started walking to their right.
"The guy is like a cartoon, coming out of a toothpaste advertisement or something," Kurt leaned serious over the table once he was gone.
"He's not that bad," Blaine tried not to give in and laugh. The other boy parted his lips searching for something coherent to say and narrowed his eyes, but reclined back on his seat in defeat. The hazel eyed boy opened his mouth to steer the conversation back in place, in hope of returning it to the exact moment when Kurt was about to say something, before the other spoke again.
"No wonder everybody likes you so much, you're far too nice," he played with his fingers, eyes on them and raising his eyebrows. As much as Blaine really wanted to know, he couldn't help to be taken aback, shooting his eyebrows straight up.
"How do you know that?" and wasn't surprised when, for the tenth time in the day, he heard Kurt snorting in impatient disbelief and superiority.
"Are you serious?" he tilted his head. "Everybody is going on and on and on about 'that newbie that's not very tall but compensates it with his ways, and have you seen those big eyes? So dreamy, and good Lord, his tousled hair is so nice I just want to touch it and', ugh..." he said in a fake, high pitched tone, as in quoting someone else. "Just… please, you're a crowd pleaser yourself, Blaine," he snickered taking another sip from his drink.
"Do you think I'm nice?" he offered half heartedly and slowly.
"Nice? Sure," Kurt quirked an eyebrow and fixed his eyes on Blaine's, not making a big deal out of it. "You're the epitome of nice and polite and… charming," he shook his head, still with a derisive aim.
"So… you like me?" he tried again, assuming more than asking, in what he knew was somewhat of a flirting way, never taking his eyes off Kurt, intently watching his reaction. He couldn't spot anything but a vague pout.
"You're nice, that doesn't mean I like you. It can be positive and whatever but it can be just as negative. Nice people are usually boring," he explained as he scratched his face and grabbed a napkin, pressing it on the table, to dry off the circles of water around his glass, increasing the ball of nerves that was Blaine by never looking at him. "Though I'm still on the fence about the whole thing," he lifted his chin lightly and wrapped his mouth around the straw, obliging Blaine to look away at once. "You're nice but I have yet to find if the rule applies and you're boring too," he swallowed and pouted in thought.
"Am not," he scoffed, exaggerating an offended frown in a teasing way.
"Ah-ah-ah," Kurt interrupted with a finger and warning eyebrows, raising. "That's up to me to decide," and after a pause, Blaine could've sworn he saw the tiniest of the smiles, which he returned with an amplified and much obvious one.
"Do you even know them?" he glanced back when he retrieved and laid his back on the red, shiny leather.
"Who?"
"Nick and David," Blaine said without blinking.
"Oh... Huh…" he clicked his tongue. "No. I don't quite intend to," he sang and continued to slide his long fingers up and down the cold, tarnished glass, leaving an opaque and darker trail.
"Why not? They're all kinds of awesome," he frowned, a smile spreading on his face.
"Yeah, well, they're your friends," he pointed out, striking the argument immediately as if with a bat, far away.
"I think you could easily get along," he shrugged, more eager than he was supposed to be. Why did the notion of Kurt and his two new best friends actually liking each other was so important to him?
Why the sudden vision of the four of them hanging out at Jim's was so appealing and why the picture in his head included his arm around Kurt's shoulders or in a nearer, more probable –he belittlingly snorted within- future, stealing subtle glances from one another and fingers quietly brushing under the table?
Unfortunately, it was all very surreal: that wasn't him, he was not that person. He could never come out to his friends and to Kurt or just tell the world in such an open way he could just touch him –he cringed- that way, in front of David and Nick as if it was the most natural thing ever. Nope. Well, now that sucked.
"Why? Why should we even try and get along?" he clearly wasn't having the same vision. In fact, it looked like he didn't want anything to do with it.
"Because the three of you are great," Blaine replied simply.
Kurt quirked an eyebrow impossibly near to his hairline. He looked so much very, very surprised.
"You think I'm great?" the words came out with a color in his voice that made Blaine think the boy across the table had just discovered he was actually a perverted, creepy stalker, as he led a hand to his chest. And the expression on his twisted features could have easily been decoded as disgusted if it weren't for the utter and striking confusion in them.
"Well, I did invite you to have a drink," he glanced sideways, deadpanned though a second away from smiling at Kurt's reaction.
"I've been an ass," Kurt squinted a bit, a few light blue veins becoming slightly more noticeable beneath the translucent skin of his eyelids. "Like... a complete jerk."
"I think we've been through this already," Blaine chuckled under his breath. "You have been… unfriendly, but we're still talking, what's the big deal?" he tried to wave it away. He didn't want to confirm Kurt he liked him, even as friends, and that conversation could have easily been twisted down that path any moment now. There was a moment of silence, though, and Blaine thought Kurt was going to insist on the subject, but thankfully...
"Wow, must be my lucky day," he snorted and leaned forward to catch the straw between his lips. Blaine easily slapped his mind away from staring and providing Kurt a definitive and even more obvious reason to think he was in fact, a creep. Why did that keep happening to him? It seemed every time Kurt did something with his lips other than talking, he was suddenly mesmerized. Well, it was silly. Silly and hormonal and he couldn't help but feel invading, just contemplating at his mouth, though not with lust but with a thoughtful gaze. So, in his defense, it wasn't that creepy.
Because after Kurt had become somewhat more human towards Blaine and appeared now to be so much more reachable and not as distant, Blaine could feel the puzzle pieces of the thick wall, under which the real Kurt was concealed, starting to fall apart. And hopefully, in only a matter of weeks, he'd be freed from it. Because Blaine knew that Kurt Hummel wasn't really the teenager he was now and that he had probably been for a long time already, there was something about him screaming that everything was not okay, never mind what he said out loud.
For a second, the sound that camefrom the street became louder until the farthest and opposite of him door was closed again.
"It might be and then again it might be not," Blaine mumbled amused, but worried in the same measure.
"What?" Kurt looked up with a frown and a hesitant smile. He watched the boy bite his lip and nod towards the door. When he scooped around, he could see a not so tall guy wearing a beret with a cheeky, amiable grin and an Afro-American guy with a similar accessory on his faintly haired head with a way less conceited ambiance. "You have got to be kidding me…" he uttered, slamming his hand on the table before turning his head to Blaine with a cold, murdering look. "Did you know they were coming?" Blaine frowned.
"Wha- No, no, no! I swear I had no idea," he hurried, shaking his hands.
"Yes, you did, you told them to come," he continued, convinced what he was saying was true.
"What? No, that's absurd, I didn't!" when Kurt stared at him with the same face as before –even though, this time he look much more bewildered and there was now clear loathing in his face. Blaine wanted to squirm only under the fiercely intimidating look. "Look, you don't have to stay if you don't want to-"
"You're damn right I don't want to! And I won't!" Blaine decided to ignore those words and approach calmly. Kurt still had his torso slightly twisted back, one hand in the back of the seat, the other on the border of the table, but facing Blaine with the most glacial expression ever, his nostrils flaring and teeth gritted.
"But please, would you mind giving it a try? It'd be really nice if-"
"What? No, no way," he cut in shock. "Besides, why would I?" he sneered, cruelly, absolutely no mocking smile in sight. There was a sad pause.
"For me?" he whispered with too much hope in his eyes. And when Kurt narrowed his further and bored into them with appalled and extreme pity, he frowned and felt more embarrassed than ever. "I thought we were friends," Blaine said with his relaxed glistening honey eyes reflecting the stupidly unexpected disappointment. He averted his gaze when he heard Kurt's voice speaking again.
"Well, you thought wrong," he derided again, this time more hesitantly and lowering his voice but with a snide note nonetheless, and strutting away from the booth to his right and out the closest door, without looking back afterwards.
Blaine sat there, lips parted, faintly squinting and frowning ever so slightly. His hands were resting dead on his lap as he blinked, annoyed and confused. What the hell had just happened? He hadn't done anything, anything wrong at all and now he was alone. It was all going so well and it had ended so abruptly and in such an inexplicably… confusing way. He realized things with Kurt and Kurt alone usually seemed to be this confusing. Perhaps a little bit too much for his own liking. Not two seconds afterwards he was hearing Nick and David's voice drawing nearer, probably talking to him, until he felt a hand patting his shoulder and back as he steered his eyes away from the window, focusing on his friends, who were now standing next to him.
"What was Hummel doing here?" David asked, frowning a bit.
"I don't know," he muttered miserably, fixing his eyes back on the thick glass, through which he could see the clouds starting to swirl in the sky, spreading and painting it white. His friends exchanged glances.
"Are you alright, bud?" he continued as he slid in the seat opposite to Blaine, after Nick.
"Yeah, sure," he replied almost automatically not wasting one second. "Hey guys, have you ever like… talked to him?" he looked at them.
"What, Kurt?" the same talked.
"Where's the waitress?" Nick asked, a hesitant hand about to wave in the air.
"Yeah," Blaine gave a dry nod.
"Why are we even sitting here, anyway?" his other friend began to twist his torso in all directions, still ignored.
"We've talked but nothing ever happened, like… We used to… talk, just… Talk, we weren't best friends but we got along. He was always kind of conceited," he admitted with something that sounded strangely like an affectionate chuckle. "But we're used to that, aren't we?" he turned to Nick jokingly and patted his back.
"This isn't our booth," the other one continued, oblivious to their chat, scanning the room with his squinting clear eyes and holding onto the silver rim of the table. David frowned and Blaine raised his eyebrows in amusement. His mouth was barely opened while he continued to look around, at the moment, past Blaine's head. "This isn't our tabl—Oh, oh-ho-ho," his face transfigured into condescending contemptuousness, as he laughed with a dangerous dishonesty and shook his head softly.
"Anyway, so he was always like that?" Blaine picked up the conversation, taking his eyes off Nick.
"Anyway," David agreed. "No, he wasn't always like that. I mean, very… sure about himself, not the thing with the girls, though. That's been going for a year or so," David considered, stroking his chin.
"No, he did not," Nick continued to be unheard in the background.
"So he wasn't always like this or…" Blaine started, gesturing with his hand. "Sorry, I'm getting confused."
"Ever since we became teenagers, if you want to put it that way, yes, he has always been conceited and snarky, yet socially successful. Don't ask me how, I have no idea," he began to explain once again. "But this is a small town, you know that, and I used to go to kindergarten with him and he was the nicest kid ever, so…" he trailed off with a soft shrug.
"Huh," Blaine's eyebrows went up for a second in calm surprise. It wasn't a lot of information to take in, but it was certainly interesting.
"Yeah, I don't know what happened," he nodded blankly staring into nothingness.
"Who does he think he is?" he slammed his hand on the table quietly.
"Okay, what on Earth are you even talking about?" David gave in and turned to his friend.
"That stupid Sandy Ryggory is sitting at our booth," he shook his head. "Our booth! I can't believe it, can you believe it?" he scoffed, baffled. This time it was David that shook his head, squinting at his friend trying to comprehend how his head worked. "Yeah," Nick exhaled shortly, totally misunderstanding David's response. Blaine was chuckling when he recalled.
"Hey, guys, are you going to this Wednesday's dance?" he asked and it seemed interesting enough to Nick cause his head all but snapped in his direction with a satisfied grin spreading on his face.
"Well, why, look who's coming around! Way to go, triangles, taking initiative and talking about going to parties and such," he reached out over the table and tapped his arm, proud before sitting again and pointing at him with an impish smirk. "You, naughty boy."
"What is wrong with you today?" Blaine frowned and Nick's smile fell as David shook with silent laughter.
"What you meant is 'are we going to the dance', Blaine," the least weird of his friends corrected him.
"Right," he nodded.
"You're with us too, now," he half-joked as if he was explaining something to a five year old.
"Right, sure," he bit his lip gratefully and kind of bashful. He was pretty sure he was blushing. "Thanks," he had no idea where it came from but every time David said something implying their new friendship and sort of stating it and the fact they were actually friends who had grown to like him that fast, he would melt into an emotional mess.
"I don't like this table," their other friend said. David exhaled, rattled.
"Oh my God… Nick!" he let out in an exasperated huff.
"What? It's not our regular booth, I'm not comfortable with this," he crossed his arms with an adamant shrug.
"What are you even talking about? You're not comf—"
"Yes, it's betrayal," he explained simply and calmed. Blaine continued to stay back and stare, as he always did, the happy laughter bubbling in his stomach, ready to erupt from his throat any minute now.
"What?" David's word was so sharp, it was palpable as it shot out of his mouth and cut the air like a blade.
"We're cheating on our booth."
"We are not- You can't even cheat on a fucking table, Nick, what are you talking ab—"
"And that waitress?" his index finger did circles in the air as it flew to David's chest and nudged it. "I don't like her, either."
"I hate you," David stated deadpanned and continued to repeat while Blaine started to laugh out loud, unable to hold it in any longer. "I hate you, I swear to God, I hate you—"
"She's not Amy! And she hasn't even taken my order yet," he proceeded stubborn and folding his arms again.
"Dude, you're an idiot," David moving his head side to side.
"Oh, but you love it," his face changed to a mischievous, convinced smile.
"No, I do not. I swear to God I do not," he guaranteed with high eyebrows.
"You wish. Look at Blaine, he's pissing," he pointed at his friend with his chin.
"No, am not," he put himself together in his seat with a little grin.
"Yeah, you do," Nick's identical gesture grew impossibly until his cheek hurt, prolonging the words and humming the sounds in such a teasing way he was almost savoring them. "So, are we going to the dance?"
"I can't," David sighed, visibly relieved it was finally over.
"Yeah, you can," Nick muttered, Blaine's Coke bottle making circles in its place between his fingers.
"Oh my God, enough already!" they both began to chuckle uncontrollably when David nearly yelled.
"You know you love it," Nick deflated trying to keep it low, but his voice got higher towards the end of the sentence, letting the laughter come out again.
"Alright, that is it," he slid off the booth.
"Okay, okay, I'm sorry! I swea—" he laid across the plastic seat, but David had already walked out of his reach. "Come on, honey, don't leave," Nick turned around on his seat, following his friend with his gaze. David bit his lip to stop himself from smiling and silenced him with his hand before walking out the door. Nick turned around, laughing and winked at Blaine in complicity, who was clutching at his stomach trying to catch air.
"I feel sorry for him," Blaine admitted, still beaming.
"Nah, he'll be alright. After all, he is living in my house, he's used to it," he closed his eyes for a second and waved his hand in the air, triumphantly, tightly smiling at the waitress. Blaine laughed once more and noticed the annoyance from before was far gone. And strangely, it didn't come back as strongly as he thought it obviously would when his mind flew to that place.
While Nick talked to the waitress, Blaine mulled over Kurt and his friends. Seriously, how could he not like them? He was sure if he had just been there, he would've enjoyed himself as much as Blaine had; they were hilarious and the friendliest people he had ever met. Not that back in New York he was brimming with friends, but he was positive not everyone was as nice as them.
"Why can't he go to the dance?" Blaine asked after Linda left once more, thankfully, he noticed, without any trace of anger in her face. And that was one of the things Blaine liked so much about Nick, he wasn't a douche; perhaps he was conceited and too honest from time to time, but he wasn't a bad person. Not nearly.
"No idea, you'll have to ask him tomorrow," he shrugged. They stayed quiet for a second. "Ugh, I swear to God, that Sandy guy is such a pain in the ass," he rolled his eyes and the skin around Blaine's eyes crinkled when he laughed again. "Besides, the guy is so ridiculous, have you heard him talk?"
"Yeah, he's just… really enthusiastic and… energetic," he offered as politely as possible.
"No, he's an idiot. You're just too nice to admit it, but I bet the guy is high all the time. Dr-ugged," he spelled with emphasis. "On speed, all day long, I tell you," he continued to mutter under his breath, tapping his fingers on his thigh under the table. He chewed on the inside of his cheek absently staring at Sandy, still sitting at their usual booth. "Just like a freaking cartoon or something," he dropped his shoulders.
Blaine closed his eyes and smiled.
Just so you know, I am trying to keep up a kind of "calendar". Ch 8 starts with "It was 5:00 am on a Sunday" or something like that, the ninth happens the day after that, so on a Monday and this is a continuation of it, so it's still that same Monday, just a couple of minutes later. Not every chapter will be one day necessarily, it might be less than a day or two or whatever.
It was so fucking fun to write Sandy, seriously, I just picture him like Cedric Diggory in AVPM and one of those typical guys from the sixties.
By the way,
I don't even know what I'm doing.
So help me out here? I'm in this state in which I just write without thinking much, not with trivial things but with the storyline too.
Do you think this chapter, for example, is good? As in, is it good for the writing that I write like this, just letting go? Based on this chapter, did you like it or do you think there are things that don't make sense and that are unnecessary and that I should wait to… I don't know.
See?
Right now, for example, I don't know what I'm doing, can you tell me if you liked this chapter or not? Pretty please?
Still, hope you like it and really, tell me what I should change. I know not a LOT happens, but they are short and I am trying to update I just take so much time sometimes cause the inspiration doesn't come all the time, so... But I'm now reading a Charles Dickens book and it's coming, slowly so yay :)
Anyway, it's not like this is Go Your Own Way (GO READ IT NOW, IF YOU HAVEN'T) or Little Numbers (SAME), so you're not waiting on the edge of your sit for me to update (which I totally am with those two fics, among many many others).
But seriously, tell me what you think I should change and such, pleaaaaase.
Adieu :)
PS: my tumblr is .tumblr .com if you want it. The Walk The Line tag has some fanart if you don't want to watch it on deviantart or whatever.