"Oh Blaine," Kurt sighs heavily as he rushes forward to take him in his arms. "I'm so sorry." He holds Blaine close and lets him cry into his shoulder, until he pulls back and wipes his eyes, offering Kurt a trembling smile as he holds both his hands.
"I'll be okay," he tells him. "It really sucks right now, but I'll be okay."
"Do you want to talk about it?" Kurt asks. "I know talking isn't your strong point, but it might help a little."
Blaine nods and allows himself to be led to the couch, settling into the arm Kurt puts around his shoulders. "It didn't go badly," he sniffs quietly. "In fact, it went really well. They were impressed by my answers in the interview, and the sight reading was easy, like ridiculously so. They just said there were stronger candidates, and I guess there's not a lot I can do about that."
"There's really not," Kurt says softly. "I'm just so sad to see you hurting."
"I really wanted to make you proud of me," he whispers as a fresh bout of tears fill his eyes.
"What? Are you crazy? I am immensely proud of you, Blaine. Where do I even start? You left everything behind to take a risk in Chicago just so we could live together. You fill Bourgeois cafe each and every week since January- you have a following who love to listen to you sing. I turn on the tv and when the commercials start, it's your music I hear."
"I know but..."
"But you wanted that, I know honey, I know. But you know, Kendalls commercials are renowned. Everyone can sing them, and that's your doing."
"I still feel like I sold out there," he mutters.
"Sold out? Writing a few thirty second jingles for a whole load of cash? No. You took a smart career move, Blaine."
"Whatever did I do to deserve you?" he asks almost reverently as his hand grazes over Kurt's cheek. "You are truly wonderful."
"Here's what we're gonna do," Kurt says decisively. "You're gonna call Wes, while I make dinner and call the collective parents and insanely annoying siblings and friends. Once all the calls are done we can be left alone to eat our dinner in peace, after which we can talk more if you want to, take a bath, play scrabble- no sulking if you lose- watch tv, a movie...whatever you want. Tomorrow is a new day, okay?"
"Okay," Blaine smiles through his tears.
"What do you want for dinner then?"
"Hot dogs and French fries?" Blaine asks hopefully.
"Not our usual classy cuisine, but I'll go with it. Actually, I'll do better than that. I'll go down to that place on the corner and get carry out. Maybe pick up some ice cream too?"
"Thank you. You're the best."
"Anything for you," he smiles. "And Blaine? Just so you know? You can bang my drums any time."
He closes the door behind him and walks down the hall, happy to hear Blaine laughing in his wake.
A weary and emotional Blaine looks at the phone in his hand for a few moments, before realising this is his best friend and he actually wants to talk with him, he needs to hear his voice reassuring and comforting him, so he dials and waits.
"Hey! Blaine?" Wes says quickly down the line. "That is Blaine, right? I didn't look at the caller ID."
"Yeah, yeah it's me," he sighs.
"Hey, you okay?"
"Sort of."
"What does sort of mean?" Wes asks with concern.
"Sort of...no. I didn't get it."
"Well that sucks. They obviously don't know a good musician when they see one."
"Given their prestige, I think they probably do. But thank you, that's very sweet of you."
"You're bummed, huh?"
"Yeah. I'm...I'm..."
"You're not used to failure, are you? Not that this should be seen as that," he rushes on. "This is just...a setback. A minor one at that."
"I don't know, Wes. I'm just feeling more and more like I've never reached my full potential in life. I spent all that time messing around after college...then...with Luke and all...I kinda just wasted all those years when I should have been building a career."
"You have built a career though," Wes tells him firmly. "You're a very much in demand session musician, and a talented songwriter."
"No one wants my songs," he says quietly. "They just want my irritatingly catchy jingles."
"Blaine," Wes sighs, "I'm sorry for you, man. I wish I could be there to hug you. But I'm guessing Kurt's cuddles are probably slightly more appealing than mine, anyway."
"Everything sucks, Wes," Blaine moans, and the way in which he ignores Wes' attempts at humor has him worried.
"Blaine? Don't do this. I can't be there to pick you up this time, and it isn't fair to Kurt. Life is harsh sometimes, it gives us crap and we have to deal with it. We can't always get what we want, we can't always be the best in everything, the top of our game."
"I'm not the top in anything."
Resisting the obvious quip about his sex life, Wes' voice comes firm and unyielding down the line. "You are. Don't give me that. You were top in everything at school, except math. You graduated college with the highest GPA in your class. And you know you're the best in the advertising field. They're practically beating down your door since you wrote for Kendalls."
"Big fucking deal!" Blaine cries, beginning to lose his temper. "I never wanted to write jingles, Wes. I wanted to write hit songs or play in a world famous orchestra."
"You wanted to love and be loved, too," Wes reminds him gently. "I'd say you're doing pretty darn well at that."
"I'm not though," he whispers, horrified with himself. "I...I..."
"You still love him, right?" Wes cuts right over Blaine's stammering. "Tell me you still love him."
"God yes! Hell, did you really think I could ever stop loving him?"
"No, but I'm kinda worried about you right now bud, please tell me what you're trying to say."
"I can't provide for him Wes," he says, voice cracking with emotion.
"What?"
"Financially."
"Explain to me."
"Kurt has quit his job. Partly at my insistence, or suggestion, anyhow. He needs to take extra ballet classes and his schedule is crazy. It makes sense for him not to work. I told him to take private classes, I figured he'd get more help one to one... Wes, did you know that ballet lessons are crazy expensive?"
"Yes Blaine."
"Oh. I didn't. I did not know that. You see, the thing is... The orchestra salary was set to be a hundred grand starting. I was arrogant and naive, Wes. I thought that job was mine. So what's a few private ballet classes?"
"Ballet classes are expensive, sure. But a hundred grand?"
"I cleared my books," he whispers, shame faced. "I've only kept on Kendall's. I have nothing scheduled. I mean, I can pick up session work but it's the jingles that pay the big bucks... And I told three lots of execs in the past two weeks that I wasn't interested in taking their projects on."
"Um.. Okay," Wes says, thinking on his feet, "so..."
"That's not all."
"Oh."
"My tenant wants out."
"Of your house?"
"Yes."
"Sheesh. You gonna be okay?"
"Day to day...just about. But I'll now be paying mortgage and rent on this place...saving for this wedding...and you know, Kurt's clothes..."
"Then you have to tell him. He's not a kid anymore Blaine. He's a grown man. He'll understand. You're a couple, a togetherness."
"I can't."
"Blaine Anderson so help me god if you don't man up I am putting Santana on the first plane from New York and I am getting in my car and together we are gonna come kick your ass!"
"Don't yell."
"Don't tell me not to yell!" Wes shouts, finally losing his cool. "I'll yell if I damn well please. You're engaged, for fucks sake, and yet you still feel this never ceasing urge to protect Kurt from life like he's... Like he's some kind of kid," he finishes quietly.
"I want to provide for him though," Blaine says through his tears. "I feel like I should. I want to give him the best of everything in life because he deserves it more than anyone I know."
"No Blaine," Wes says wearily. "He deserves a loving, honest, open and trustworthy fiancé. An equal. A partner. He has a dad, he doesn't need another one."
"I don't want him to be disappointed in me."
"Blaine, he's going to be far more disappointed if you keep all this to yourself. Trust me. Just talk to him."
"Yeah," comes the quiet response.
"Is that a yes? Promise me you will?"
"I promise I will."
"Good boy," Wes laughs. "I gotta go. Love you, buddy."
"You too."
But Blaine doesn't talk that night, or the next, or even the one after that. Kurt assumes he's still hurting from the failed audition, and treats him with kid gloves, fussing over him, giving endless cuddles and reassurance and constantly reminding him that he thinks he's rather marvellous. At the weekend he drags Blaine from the apartment to walk through Lincoln park where he keeps up an endless monologue about anything and everything he can think of. It is a desperate ploy to fill the awkward silence but eventually he can stand it no longer and drags him to a nearby bench.
"What's up?" he asks with a sigh.
"You know what's up."
"Blaine...I know not getting the job sucked, but this is days on now. I'm not trying to tell you to get over it but..."
"Get over it?"
"Well, yes. I mean, it's fine to feel upset but this is our weekend together. It'll be Monday before we know it and we'll be back to the humdrum routine."
"You're right," Blaine smiles brightly. "As always. I'm sorry. I'll do better."
"You don't need to do better, I'm happy to talk about it with you but can we just smile while we're doing it?"
"I don't need to talk about it. I need for us to have fun," Blaine says as he tugs him to his feet. "Tell me what you'd like to do and we'll do it."
"Okay," Kurt smiles happily, the tense moment forgotten. "Um...Oh! I know. I want a spring jacket."
"A...A what?"
"A spring jacket. It's getting warmer, but there's still a bit of a chill in the air when I walk to class in the morning. So..."
"You have like...six jackets that I can immediately bring to mind that would be fit for this purpose."
"I know, but there's this one in Macys which is adorable. And it would go so well with those green pants I bought from Brooks Brothers the other day."
"You bought green pants?" Blaine asks, his heart sinking.
"Oops!" Kurt laughs. "I forgot I hadn't mentioned them. Yes I did, they were too nice to leave in the store."
Three hours later they return, Kurt thrilled with his new jacket, boots and sweater and Blaine feeling more concerned than ever. When they retire to bed that evening Kurt tries to initiate things but Blaine kisses his forehead gently and tells him he's tired.
"Okay," he nods understandingly. "You're alright though, yes? No...problems?"
"I know what you're getting at," Blaine replies stiffly. "And no. Everything is fine."
"It's been a while."
"It's been a week."
"It's been seventeen days, Blaine," Kurt says, more than a little hurt. "You haven't been near me since the night you got called to audition."
"I've been near you," he huffs, in agitation. "I'm near you now."
"We're cuddling."
"Which is just as important," he points out. "I love you, Kurt. I'm just tired, that's all. You forget I'm not as young as you."
"You're hardly collecting your pension though, and christ knows we've had sex four times a day before now and you've not complained about tiredness. All we did was walk around a few shops."
"Kurt, I really don't want to go to sleep on an argument," Blaine sighs. Pushing away from him he rolls onto his stomach and fiddles with the pillow as he talks. "If you really want to have sex, we will."
"Great," he mutters sarcastically as he turns his back to Blaine. "How can anyone resist that?"
"Kurt please." Reaching out to touch his shoulder, Blaine's voice cracks as he speaks. "I want to, I'm just tired. I've had a lot on my mind and I've not been sleeping well. Let me rest and I promise to wake you up in the morning, okay?"
Kurt turns back, hands tucked under his chin and eyes bright in the darkness. "By wake up do you mean...?"
"I mean I'll wake you up in my own special way."
"Okay," he whispers as he smiles softly. "I'm sorry for moaning. I just want to feel that closeness to you again. I miss that."
"I know, gorgeous boy," Blaine murmurs as he holds Kurt close once more and swallows down the bile he can feel rising in his throat. "I know."
Two weeks later and Kurt starts to worry. Not only is Blaine withdrawn and tetchy, he sleeps like the dead and seems to have no energy to do anything. He speaks with Burt, who rightly assumes something is bothering Blaine, but he doesn't know what it could be.
"You've just got to ask him," Burt says.
"I have," Kurt says exasperatedly. "But he just keeps telling me he's bummed about the audition. But that's not normal, is it? To be that upset nearly three weeks on?"
"I know it meant a lot to him...but no. I don't think it is. It sounds like it's something more. Have you spoken to Mike or Sara?"
"No. I guess I might have to. I text Santana, but she said she hasn't heard from him in nearly a month- which is very strange as those two usually text back and forth."
"What about Wes?"
"Yeah, he's my next port of call. Blaine's just...not himself. He keeps forgetting things too. The other day I asked him to pick up the books I had ordered from Borders. He told me they weren't in, then when I showed him the email they had sent me he said they were in but he couldn't carry them. It was only three books though, dad. So he eventually did it, then grumbled and groused about me spending a hundred dollars on books- like it was a big deal. He always, without fail, transfers money each week to our wedding fund, but it's not been added to for nearly four weeks now. He hasn't picked up his dry cleaning...the list seems to go on."
"Well I think talking with Wes would help- even if it's only as a sounding board. He knows Blaine much better than I do. But...I don't know. Maybe get him to see a doctor?"
"Okay", Kurt sighs. "I'll call Wes tomorrow."
It turns out he doesn't need to though, as Wes gets to him first- calling right after he's finished work and luckily Kurt has just arrived home to an empty apartment.
"Hey Wes. I was gonna call you."
"Really? For the same reason I guess," he clears his throat and continues. "Uh...Kurt...this is awkward for me... But I love you."
"Steady on," Kurt laughs.
"Very funny. Hear me out. I love you, and I love Blaine. I don't want you to feel like I'm criticizing you or saying you're not looking after him, or judging you in any way at all, because I'm really not." Pausing, he sucks a deep breath. "Blaine is falling apart, and I think he's about one day away from cracking open the whiskey."
"I know," he sighs, slumping into the couch and then to his horror he starts to cry.
"Kurt? Bud? You okay?" Wes' concern only seems to add to Kurt's tears as they flow freely and he swipes at his nose with his sleeve.
"I'm sorry," he whispers feeling ashamed. "Oh god, I'm so sorry."
"Don't worry about it," Wes tells him stoically. "Um...Are you and Blaine fighting?"
"No," he sniffs tearfully. "We're not fighting at all. He's just refusing to talk about whatever it is that's bothering him, he's in bed before ten most nights and he seems to have forgotten that I have a body under all these layers."
"Oh. That again."
"Yes, that again. Waking me up with a quick blow job is hardly a substitute for love making," he snaps. "Sorry Wes. I know that's TMI but..."
"It's okay," he says kindly. "I understand."
"Wes, I hate to ask you this but...do you know what's wrong with him?"
"I do, yes," he sighs heavily.
"Is it me?"
"No!" Wes' reply is immediate and definite. "No, and you mustn't think that at all. It's not you. He loves and adores you as much as ever. He's just...Ugh. This is really hard for me. I don't want to betray his confidence..."
"It's okay," a defeated Kurt says. "I understand."
"No...I feel I have to. Because otherwise this is gonna drag on and on, and both our main concern is Blaine's well being and your relationship, right?"
"Right," Kurt agrees, "But I don't want to put you in an awkward position."
"It's not. It's quite easy for me, because whatever else happens, I will not see Blaine like he was before. It nearly happened when you went to New York and we just about avoided a full on crisis. It can't happen again."
"Whatever it is, I have to wonder why he feels he can tell you and not me," Kurt blurts out. "No offense. I know you're his closest friend but..."
"But you're his partner. I know. And I tried to get him to tell you. Honestly I don't think he would have told me face to face. I think it was only because it was over the phone. And I've only spoken with him once since. It's not like he's calling me and telling me all his thoughts, because he's not telling anyone anything- in fact he yelled at me to leave him alone the last time we spoke."
"I didn't know that."
"Kurt the main reason he hasn't told you is because he doesn't want you to view him as a failure. He feels like he let you down badly by failing that audition, and he doesn't want to add to that."
"You know I don't think that though, right?"
"I know that. But Blaine has a hard time believing anyone can love him the way you do, and be proud of him no matter what."
"So..."
"He's broke, Kurt. I don't know exactly what he was thinking but he kinda thought he was a shoe in for the job- as we all did I guess. And he quit a lot of his work, or turned down new stuff thinking he wouldn't need it. He has this...this...old fashioned view that as the older man he needs to take care of you, and lavish anything and everything on you. I've argued against this but..."
"He's broke? Is he in debt?"
"I really don't know, Kurt. You'd have to ask him yourself, I'm sorry."
"Oh I will."
"Don't be mad at him," Wes panics, hearing the rising anger in Kurt's voice.
"I think I've every right," Kurt snaps. "Does he think I'm a fucking child? I told him I didn't need to stop work. I told him I'd get a summer job. Why does he feel the need to shelter me? We're supposed to be equals."
"I know, Kurt. But he's just...dapper, gentlemanly Blaine. His parents instilled certain values in him I guess. I love them enormously but they are incredibly old fashioned in their married roles. Sara's never worked, she's just kept house for Mike and her boys while her husband goes out and earns money to buy her dresses and keep them in a big, expensive house."
"Fuck that shit."
"Well..." Wes can't help but laugh. "It works for them, I guess. But no, it won't work for you two. You need to force him to talk, Kurt."
"Oh I will Wes, I will."
Kurt becomes more livid with rage the longer he waits for Blaine's return. Eventually deciding this is not going to be conducive to good talking, he packs a small overnight bag and sends a text.
I've gone to sleep at Joe's. My phone will be off but I will return in the morning and we will be talking. Rest assured that I still love you, Blaine. I'm just angry right now and I'd prefer to talk when I'm feeling a lot more calm and rational. Don't do anything dumb, please.
