I AM SO SORRY!
My laptop crashed right after my last update, two weeks ago, and was pronounced dead shortly after. I've finally found a laptop to borrow while mine is being examined to figure out if it is a guarantee-issue (new laptops aren't supposed to die like that...) so that I can get my money back and buy a new one. But that's why I haven't been here - not updated, not answering to reviews, not talking, no nothing. And I've missed it, I've missed you! I hope this laptop will live for some time...
And to make up for the long wait, I promise to give you a new update of this story some time during the weekend, is that a deal? Love you guys, thank you so much for sticking with me and this story!
As always - please no spoilers for season 6, as I haven't begun watching it yet. You spoilt Americans, getting everything first... :D
Disclaimer: The usual rant.
It makes Blaine feel dirty and cheap, but it's still a better alternative to sneak out of Kurt's bed as soon as he's fallen asleep, than to stay the entire night. Hearing him deny vehemently to Rachel's boyfriend that they were dating had broken something in Blaine. Not that he had thought or suspected, or even imagined, that they were more than tentative friends right now – but he had been dreaming about and longing for more. He's never admitted it out loud, not even when Sam bluntly asked him straight out, but Kurt was in all honesty a big part of the appeal when he decided to take the part in New York and move across the country. Blaine's never stopped loving him. He knows he doesn't deserve him, he knows he hurt him badly and unforgivingly. But still, as long as it wasn't spoken about, he could allow himself to daydream. That privilege was brutally slammed out of his hands when Hugh burst in on them, though.
So Blaine heads home. Sobered up he can sort his mind sufficiently to remember where he lives and how to get there.
The apartment is mockingly empty, and the bed feels cold and big with the phantom touch of Kurt's skin against his. Sleep comes easily to him, but sometimes exhaustion and emotional weariness can be a true blessing.
Kurt lays immobile in his bed for a long time, even if it's been some time since his alarm clock woke him, trying to make inventory of the state of his heart. It would be easy to convince himself that Blaine didn't happen last night, but he decides against it. He has to be honest with himself. He's far from sure how he feels about what happened, and maybe it's for the better that Blaine at some time during the night left. Kurt can imagine him being all gentlemanly, sneaking out silently to not interfere with Kurt's beauty sleep.
He's not thrilled that they hooked up, but he's not sure if he's relieved or disappointed that Hugh interrupted them either. With all the stress building up in his body these days, he would have needed the release. Blaine will always signify comfort and familiarity, easy and nostalgic. But unfortunately, Blaine was the only one to reach the finish line last night.
With that thought concluding his musings, Kurt ventures out of his room for a long and warm shower. As long as Rachel is staying with Hugh in his hotel room, he can enjoy the luxury of sole disposal rights to their hot water. Even sans muffling his own voice.
He takes advantage of his pleasant solitude to treat himself to a proper home-spa, with manicure, pedicure, deep cleansing face mask, and whatever indulgent luxury he finds among his toiletries. Then he moves over to the cupboards, and makes a healthy smoothie of low-fat yoghurt and berries. It can't hurt anything, at least.
He's halfway down in a mug of Rachel's sacred Gerber-herbal tea, with a dollop of honey, when the girl and the Brit burst through the door with excited smiles on their faces and a big wrapped present in Hugh's arms. It turns out to be the last London-inspired gift for Kurt from Rachel, which she couldn't fit in her hand luggage. Kurt tears off the paper, and squeals embarrassingly high pitched when he sees what it is: A lovely tea pot with six cups, five types of handmade marmalade in delicate glass jars, and a matching three layer serving plate for scones, toast and cookies. Hugh offers to share his family recipe for fresh scones, and Rachel offers to whip up a batch of vegan-ecological cookies. The trio spends hours in the kitchen cooking and having tea, before the other two leave Kurt for a dinner reservation.
Kurt then curls up on the couch with French Vogue. He briefly wonders if he should text Blaine, but decides it's not even fashionably late to ask if he got home all right by now. They'll catch up when their paths cross next.
Sunday is spent both anticipating and avoiding his phone, hoping and dreading that Kurt will ask where and why he went. The silence is a relief and a disappointment. Cooper calls him to catch up, and it's a gift to be distracted by his brother's madness for twenty minutes. He's messed everything up with Kurt, he's deluded himself, and his on-stage love interest is homophobic. Could somebody please explain to him what was so great about New York, again?
Blaine walks slowly with trepidation towards the theatre on Monday morning, and for the first time he's the last to arrive. But he couldn't stomach spending any downtime in Tim's company. He just wants to do his job, and then go home.
"Did you get laid?" Meredith whispers in his ear, as the producer Mr. Ryan gathers them for their traditional morning show circle.
"What?" Blaine hisses, blushing fiercely.
"When you left us on Friday, it was for a booty call, right?"
Blaine shakes his head, determinedly looking away from Tim standing across of him in the circle.
"Meredith, I say this as someone who has experienced it – you are amazing in bed," Kiara interrupts, leaning out in front of Blaine to address the girl. "But not everyone enjoys talking about their intimate life or sharing the weekend fun with their colleagues on a Monday morning. Remember we talked about filters, honey?"
"You're one to talk," Meredith snorts.
"I'd ask Blaine privately, not in front of everyone, and that's a huge difference," Kiara grins, and wraps an arm around Blaine's waist.
Rehearsals are going okay, dry-reading through every scene with some actual acting to test the waters. But then they come to one of "Johnny's" private moments with his still not named-boyfriend. Caught in the moment, Blaine reaches for Tim's hand – they are portraying a couple that is the popular and mainstream norm, after all, so they have been told to be overly affectionate. But Tim flinches, and pulls his hand away, and instead runs playfully across the stage while "Johnny" declares his dreams of raising children with his boyfriend.
"Great, and a mature conversation about the future like that should be punctuated with a kiss," the producer directs.
Tim skips over to Blaine, but his steps falters when he gets closer. Blaine swallows heavily, and Tim rests a shaking hand on Blaine's chest – maybe to be able to push him away, Blaine doesn't know. He leans in hesitantly, and with closed eyes Tim meets him and plants a dry, brief press of lips to his mouth.
"Okay, you'll have to work on the emotions there – I want more honeymoon and less coyness. You are passionately in love, proud to be together despite of what everybody else thinks of white people. You aren't afraid to show it off. I don't want to pussyfoot the audience. Make out, and give them something to talk about, maybe we're so lucky they'll meet themselves in the door on the way home," Bryan Ryan grins.
The temptation to move back to LA has never been stronger.
"I'm glad you let me take you out to dinner today," Kiara smiles wolfishly as they exit the theatre later that afternoon.
"What? I didn't…"
"Look, I don't know you, but I see you. And you need to eat your weight in cronuts and share your story with me. Sometimes it's more humiliating to open up to your friends than to a stranger, so you should take advantage of me before I do something insane as befriending you," she winks. "Oh, and my Mama always said I had to have dinner before dessert, so we're going out for pizza before we eat those sinfully delicious cronuts."
"You…"
"You'll get used to me, eventually. Come on, enjoy me as a stranger and pour your worries over my head."
They walk until they find a decent place to eat, and Kiara orders for both of them when Blaine is still too stunned to make a decision about toppings.
"You should be glad I like you, otherwise you'd be eating pizza with anchovies and marshmallows."
"Is that even possible?"
"Sweetheart, you're in New York – everything is possible!"
"Not everything," Blaine mutters petulantly.
"Bring it," Kiara encourages, gesturing animatedly with her hands.
"I understand Meredith is your ex?" Blaine asks carefully, voice lowered automatically.
Kiara hums around her straw, eyes locked on him.
"But you were honestly hitting on me on Friday?"
She smirks around the straw.
"So that makes you…"
"Carefree," she interrupts him. "Not careless, though. I'm flexible, but not ignorant. I'm fluid, but I'm not flowing heedlessly."
"I'm from Ohio, which means being gay in high school was… quite challenging. My… ex, he used to call our school Homophobic High. God, he was so brave, and the things they did…" Blaine licks his dry lips, and Kiara lets him talk uninterrupted. "I overheard your conversation with Tim on Friday. I guess I had this naïve dream of finding somewhere in this world where I could just be me, without apologizing or taking precautions."
Kiara smiles sadly at him, and takes his hand on top of the table.
"I can see why Beezwax is so important to you. It speaks to you. You are so passionate and captivating in those prison scenes, when you rally the other inmates to revolt against discrimination. But your eyes are almost dead whenever you act against Tim. It didn't make sense. Not until now."
"How can I pretend to be his boyfriend, when he doesn't want me to even hold his hand?"
"First of all, those are his issues, and he needs to grow up. I understand he affects your scenes, but you can still do your job. Tell me about your exes."
"What has he got to do with this?"
"So there's only one ex, no string of lovers left behind?"
"Only one that matters," Blaine says silently. He wasn't celibate in LA, and he tried to date, but nothing ever got serious. Nobody could measure up.
"Is he still in Ohio?"
"No, he's here. He graduated from NYADA last year, and he's phenomenal," Blaine gushes. "He's trying to establish his own theatre with some friends, creating their own parts when they don't fit the producers' expectations. He's so talented, but also so unique, and some people just can't see past that."
"Hmm…" Kiara says, seemingly lost in thought. "You still love him."
"I… How did you know?"
"Please, Blaine, you've got heart eyes on max, and you are so alive when you talk about him. Only the most heartless wouldn't recognize the love that shines from you whenever you talk about him. You can use that on stage. If Tim is grumpy on the PDA, you can at least convince the audience about your feelings for him with your eyes and body language. Don't underestimate the subtleness, even on a stage with a large audience. We may not have any close ups like Hollywood does, but Broadway knows passion. You can sell it."
"Thank you," Blaine murmurs, relief flooding through him like a spring river stemming from the mountain side. He's not booking a moving van yet.
"So, you're both in New York, and you still love him. What's the next chapter of your story? Kurt loves you back, right?"
Blaine chuckles mirthlessly, and briefly wonders when he mentioned Kurt's name, but what does he know what he says and does these days anyway?
"He made it very clear this weekend that we're just friends."
"Ouch. That counts for at least three cronuts." She orders for them, and even gets them coffee. "So are you able to be his friend?"
"I'm trying," Blaine sighs. "But somehow it sometimes makes me feel worse than after I messed up. As if it's all or nothing for my heart to survive this."
"Don't give up yet, Blaine. I'm sure he'll realize what an amazing guy you are, forgive whatever you did, and make sweet, sweet loving to you. Or really kinky fucking, what do I know?" she grins, and Blaine blushes.
"Umm, he already said he's forgiven me. And it wasn't particularly kinky or sweet, but there were… umm, this weekend, we got drunk and…"
"Ooh," Kiara fans herself, and she just has to be Santana's best friend in a parallel universe, "say no more, say no more – I know you'd turn permanent maroon if you had to say the word!"
"I can say it," Blaine objects. "Sex. Fucking. Banging. Penetrating. Sex, sex, sex. Boinking. Screwing. Grinding. Humping. Boning. Shagging. Nailing."
The waiter returns with their cronuts, and he frowns at Blaine.
"Oh my God," Blaine groans, and hides his face in his hands. "I said all that in front of someone!"
Kiara cackles loudly, and rips off a piece of cronut she throws at him.
"I think we're friends now," she grins.
The week doesn't get any better, and Blaine remembers headier kisses with Sandra in kindergarten than he and Tim perform on stage. Sure, he knows there are tricks to make something seem more passionate than it is, but it requires an effort from both parts. And Tim isn't giving him much to work with. Kiara had praised Blaine on his effort at channeling all his unrequited love for his ex-boyfriend to his on stage-boyfriend instead – but unfortunately it seemed just as unrequited with the way Tim acted around him. Or rather, as she said, the problem was that Tim didn't act, and let his own opinions colour his work.
It's Thursday evening when he gets the phone call, and it's been so long he'd started to think he wouldn't hear from Kurt again. And he'd been too ashamed of his nightly escape to reach out a hand first.
"Is this a bad time?" Kurt asks hesitantly.
"No! No, I'm not busy. How are you?"
"Fine. And you?"
"Good. Good." Blaine swallows with difficulty, and paces the room. Sam looks at him with worry, still clutching his cards to his chest to make sure Blaine can't peak and win this round of Gin Rummy.
"I'm not so fine," Kurt sighs. "Are you still… I could need a friend. Are we… okay?"
"God Kurt, yes, of course, always, I'm here," Blaine murmurs, spins twice around his own axis in an effort to get away from Sam, and then locks himself in the bathroom. "What's going on?"
"I had my tests on Tuesday…"
"I didn't know that," Blaine says softly, and instantly regrets staying away from Kurt. What kind of friend is he, if he can't support him through cancer just because he got a tad sensitive after awkward sex? "I'm sorry I wasn't there."
"Not much you could have done, Blaine, I can pull my own pants down."
"Have you gotten the results back yet?"
"That's why I'm calling."
"Okay." Blaine feels cold from it, and he closes his eyes, bracing himself for what Kurt is about to tell him. How bad is it?
"I… I get the results tomorrow. And you once said I should bring someone to help me remember everything the doctor says and ask the questions I forget. Would you… Do you have time to go with me?"
"Of course. Of course, Kurt."
"Thank you."
Blaine watches the black screen of his phone, willing it to tell him how Kurt is actually feeling. He'd seemed so careful on the phone, as if his words were measured and controlled, and there really wasn't any emotion to his voice. And Blaine knows that when Kurt is putting up a façade, it's really serious. Nothing can stop Blaine from accompanying Kurt to his appointment tomorrow.
Well, except work, perhaps.
He scrolls through his phone list, and dials his best chance of getting help.
"Kiara, you have to help me come down with something tomorrow, so I can get out of rehearsals to help Kurt with an emergency."
Blaine spins on the floor, does the pirouette, and prepares to leap up on the table from where he'll encourage his fellow inmates to join the break-out to take over the city hall. But when he comes out of the pirouette, he clutches his stomach, holds a hand in front of his mouth, and runs out of the room.
"Anderson?" Bryan Ryan calls after him.
"I'll go see to him," Kiara offers in the background.
Blaine sprints into the men's room, and kneels by the porcelain. From the corner of his eye, he sees the door opens, and he retches loudly.
"Nicely done," Kiara grins. "So, dizzy, sweaty, cold, tummy ache, throwing up. Anything else?"
"Sounds about right," Blaine smiles, and flushes the toilet to perfect the number.
"I'm sending you off in a taxi, I tell the others I'll call you when I get home to make sure you have enough water, soup and Advil, and in the meantime you go get your Kurt and I go get our Tony."
She air-kisses him, before prancing out of the room. Blaine exits the theatre, making sure to look properly shaken in case someone sees him from a window. He do gets in a taxi, giving the driver the address to Kurt's doctor, where they've agreed to meet.
Kurt is already waiting when the taxi stops by the sidewalk, leaning against the building with one foot prodded to the wall.
"Have you waited long?" Blaine asks worriedly, but is quickly reassured by Kurt shaking his head.
"No, I'm just ridiculously early. Did you have any problem getting out of work?"
"Nobody objected to me leaving," Blaine says airily. "Are you ready?"
"No…" Kurt says petulantly.
"You'll be fine," Blaine says much more confidently than he feels, and pulls him in for a hug. Kurt is initially stiff in his arms, but soon melts and leans further against Blaine's body.
"Thank you," he whispers, before separating them.
They have to wait for a while, and Kurt is flickering restlessly through a magazine, legs crossed over the knee, and one foot jiggling stressed in the air. Blaine touches his calf to steady him, and Kurt smiles apologetically at him.
"How are things at work?" Blaine tries to distract him.
"The potential sponsor pulled out because they chose a more interesting troupe, we haven't found anyone else interested in spending their money on a Les Mis rewrite, I got an instant rejection on an audition yesterday because I looked too old, and Isabelle has been told to cut down on her staff which puts me at a risk with my part-time engagement there. To top it, Rachel is sulking after Hugh returned to London, Mercedes changed her mind about the wedding dress we picked, Puck snored on our couch tonight because he fought with Quinn, and an old friend from NYADA called me out of the blue to catch up, and she's never good news. So as you can understand, I'm absolutely thrilled about this appointment, and I can't wait to hear how they found tumors everywhere in my stomach and lungs," Kurt deadpans.
"They really said you looked too old?"
"They imagined someone looking more youthful for the part," Kurt sulks.
"Their loss," Blaine huffs, "you look gorgeous as ever."
Kurt looks at him, and doesn't say anything, which makes Blaine want to dig a hole and crawl into like a maggot. But then Kurt smiles shyly, and turns back to his magazine, with the cutest blush across his cheekbones. Blaine can't help smiling too.
Without commenting, the doctor retrieves a second chair for Blaine when they step into his office, placing it next to where Kurt is sitting.
"Bringing some morale support, I see?" the man smiles kindly.
Kurt nods, but doesn't say anything. He's sitting tilted slightly towards Blaine, with one long leg crossed over the other. His pants are in a fantastic indigo, which change colour depending on light and movement. On his torso, he has a pale blue button up, a turquoise vest, and a darker blue bowtie with tiny white skies. To his lapel, he's pinned one of his skull-brooches. His fingers are tapping a rhythm against the armrest, and Blaine yearns to reach out and hold him.
"Well, no point in drawing this out. I got the test results back. As I've said before, you are a priority, so we managed to get an analysis of your tests quickly."
Kurt fists his fingers until his knuckles whiten, and Blaine gives in, wrapping his fingers carefully around his tight-closed hand. The doctor quickly looks at their hands, but his face doesn't change, and he simply continues as if nothing happened.
"Kurt, your test results are really promising. The ultrasound reveals that you have a small assembly of tumors in your left testicle, but CT and x-ray didn't find it spread to other parts of your body."
Kurt visibly sags with relief, leaning even more towards Blaine, and Blaine wants to melt onto him.
"Yet," the doctor adds. "We seem to have caught this in a relatively early stage. It proves how important it is to examine your body regularly," he says pointedly, looking at Blaine.
"He's… Umm, he discovered the anomaly," Kurt blushes, mumbling and avoiding anyone's eyes, but nodding sideways at Blaine. He loosens his grip, and weaves his fingers in between Blaine's.
"Well, that's good then. So I can assume you check yourself regularly too?" the doctor asks Blaine.
"Oh… I don't know how regular it is, but I like to think I'm acquainted with my own body," Blaine murmurs.
The doctor nods approvingly.
"So, Kurt, we need to discuss treatment. We'll have to surgically remove the sick testicle. I would recommend a biopsy of your other testicle, just to make sure there are no potent tumors there. And then I recommend chemotherapy, to make sure we remove miniscule changes not visible on CT or x-ray – nip it in the bud, so to say."
Kurt is pale and silent, and Blaine is mentally categorizing everything the doctor says, preparing questions, storing information, ticking off what he needs to research further.
"I know this is a lot to take in, but I'm giving you good news here, Kurt. This is an easy operation, your odds for a hundred per cent recovery are great, relapse is rare compared to other cancer types, you are young and healthy, and I can't imagine you'll need more than one or two rounds of chemo."
Blaine nods on Kurt's behalf.
"I suggest we make an appointment for Monday, as I'm sure you'll need the weekend to digest all of this, and your questions will come to you on the train back home."
Blaine nods again, looking worriedly at Kurt, who is still silent and unmoving.
"Kurt," the doctor says, and he doesn't continue until Kurt acknowledges him. Blaine gives his hand a gentle squeeze to remind him he's there. "There's one thing we need to discuss before we start your treatment. Having one testicle is more than enough to become a father, but the chemo may render you sterile for a limited period, no more than three years. You are young, but not that young. You should consider if you want to freeze your sperm, just in case."
"I'm gay," Kurt blurts out.
"Yes, and last time I checked it doesn't stop you from having a family."
Blaine half expects Kurt to say something about being single and kids being something far away in the future, but he doesn't.
"I'll think about it," he says hoarsely, and then Dr. Perry continues with practicalities and gives Kurt a few minutes to voice any questions. He keeps silent, though, clutching Blaine's hand as if it was his lifeline.
Back outside on the street, Blaine dares to wrap Kurt in a tight hug.
"I told you. You'll be okay."
"Will you come home with me?" Kurt asks, eyes not quite focused on anything.
"Of course. Anything."
