Mr Blaine

Chapter 14

I'm sorry I haven't written in a while, hopefully I should have some more free time soon so I can write some more.

Rachel's POV

I wrap my hands around the delicate white cup and let my fingers soak up the warmth of the coffee. Kurt comes back into the room after depositing Ben on the sofa in front of the television. As he sweeps back into the room and delicately sits down he tilts his head slightly, like a puppy, and I can't help but understand why Mr Blaine is so struck on him. He readjusts his hair to make sure it's still perfect and then leans forward, staring deep into my eyes.

"What's happened?" He asks, his voice soft and gentle.

I fiddle with the sleeves of my jacket and avoid his piercing gaze, cradling the cup in my hands. I can't bring myself to talk, so I take a gulp of coffee, which scalds my tongue. I curse under my breath and wrap my fingers back around the cup.

"What's wrong Rachel?" He's persistent, I know from experience, but nonetheless I try to convince him that there's nothing to talk about.

"Nothing, nothing's wrong. Why would you say that?" I counter. Meanwhile the voice in my head seems to have split into two, the devil and the angel are battling to the death up there, and my conscience is screaming, yelling, and battering his hands against the insides of my skull bellowing 'TELL HIM'.

I try to avoid his gaze.

"Rachel. You're dressed you did like the first year in Glee club. You're wearing a woollen jumper with a poodle on, for god sakes, there is obviously something wrong." He pulls his irresistible puppy dog eyes. "I know you. We tell each other everything. What's wrong?"

My defences dent. Then crack. That crack spreads out into a giant fissure, and the truth comes spilling out in torrents, as if someone has broken the wall of a reservoir and the water is billowing out.

"I cheated on Finn." I say abruptly, and it seems to crack through the tension in the room like a bullwhip. Kurt sits in shocked silence, and the only sound is the jovial music issuing from the television set in the other room.

"What?" Kurt manages to utter, his eyes wide, his eyebrows tilted. Confusion, hurt and disbelief cross his face. The guilt that has been wracking me for months, the guilt that I hoped would abate once I told Kurt, seems to gnaw at me even more. I feel like I've not only betrayed Finn but Kurt too.

"I… I cheated on Finn." I stutter. And then it all seems to gush out. "Finn was away on a 'guy's night' a couple of months ago, and I got a text from a friend, asking me to meet them at a bar. So I turn up and have a couple drinks, and then my friend leaves, saying something about an emergency back home. I decide to stay, not wanting to go back to an empty house, and have a few more drinks. And then this guy at the bar starts chatting me up and… well." I see Kurt's expression.

"Look, Kurt. Please understand, this wasn't planned, I was drunk, I didn't mean for it to happen. Things in our marriage have been rocky from… Well, from the start, I suppose."

Kurt stands up and walks away for a moment, and then turns back around, staring at me from his tall height. He makes wild gestures with his hands, like he does whenever he gets upset or angry.

"So you're telling me that because you and Finn had an argument you cheated on him?" His voice is raised by a fraction, enough to convey his anger but not so much that Ben senses what's wrong.

"NO!" I gasp, "No, Kurt, it's not like that. Ok? Finn and I… We married too young. I was leaving to go to NYADA, with you, he was going off to the army, or some pool cleaning business, or whatever, and… My dads were right Kurt. You were right Kurt. I'm sorry…"

Kurt breathes in deeply and then looks at me, very steadily, in the eye. I try not to break his gaze but tears are trickling from my eyes, making them red and puffy, and I have to squint slightly to see clearly.

"Have you done it since? Cheated?" He asks, his words striking blows that I hoped I could avoid, even though I deserve them.

"No!" I yelp, indignant.

"Have you told him?"

"No." I have the decency to hang my head. "Not yet."

Kurt takes a deep breath again and says very quietly, "I think… For now… You should leave."

I nod, as the tears start to stream from my eyes. I walk to the door and it is shut behind me. I lean against the wall and cry with giant sobs that shake my whole body. I don't notice the peep-hole on the door swing open, nor do I see the eye that drips tears onto his porcelain skin. We both weep because we both know that with my actions, not only have I hurt my husband, but I've betrayed my best friend.

Kurt's POV

I pick up the phone and tap in the number I have memorised with shaking hands. I listen to the dialling tone and try to tone down my sobs.

"Hello, Blaine Anderson speaking."

Just his voice calms me down; it's gentle and smooth, and kind. I find I can't speak; I'm not sure what to say. A giant sob escapes me.

"Kurt? Kurt, is that you? Are you ok? What's happened?"

I cough.

"I… I um…"

"Are you hurt?" He asks, panicked.

"No, it's just I…"

But I want to say yes, it hurts. It hurts so much that I finally had thought it was a good idea for them to be married, Finn was so happy; Rachel seemed content, always busy, but always making time for me and her nephew. And I feel betrayed and it hurts.

"I'm coming over. I'll see you in 10 minutes, okay Kurt? 10 minutes."

The phone clicks and I know he's hung up. I wipe away my tears as much as possible and pop my head round the door to check on Ben. He's fallen asleep; obviously exhausted from playing football or something stupid that could get him hurt with Dad. I miss Dad.

I lean down and pick my son up. He squirms in his sleep and I smile. His fair hair falls across his forehead and I brush it away. I cuddle him close, knowing that he is one of the only sturdy things in my life. He's so soft, my little son, a little piece of me so carefree and happy. I never want him to grow up. I want to just hold him in my arms forever and protect him from the cruel outside world.

I remember when I first held him. A newborn, so small, so tiny. A little pinkish bundle placed in the arms of a completely clueless father, unsure of what to do or to say, confused as to why, but completely concrete on one fact. I loved him more than anything else in the world. The little wriggling arms, the miniscule fingers and trembling toes. The disproportionately loud wailing that ensued as I stared wide-eyed at the baby I held. His exhausted mother, smiling at me. The nurses and doctors laughing at my pale, shocked face, a young man, barely more than a boy, holding his child for the first time.

I can remember it all.

I carry him upstairs, taking each carpeted step slowly so as not to wake him. A single tear meanders down my face as I place him in his bed fully dressed, because I can't bear to wake him up to make him change into his pyjamas. He'd refuse to wear them at this time in the early afternoon anyway.

The doorbell rings. I hurry downstairs and open the door, to find Mr Blaine standing on my doorstep, laden down with plastic bags. I usher him inside, smiling.

"I brought coffee," He says, with a charming smile, offering up two coffee cups. I kiss him on the cheek and take him into the kitchen.

"One grande non-fat mocha and a medium drip." He gestures. "We always talk over coffee, don't we? I also brought chocolate, peaches, 3 DVDs and some wine, red, I think, I'm not sure what it is really, I kind of just pulled it off the shelf in a hurry. Oh, and I also brought some tissues and some sort of posh tart… I think it has some sort of exotic fruit in it…"

As he talks he lays it all down on the table and looks up at me with a twinkle in his eye. I move towards him instinctively and wrap myself around him, tucking my nose into the groove between his neck and his collarbone. I breathe in his familiar masculine scent and I feel like Blaine is the only other strong, concrete figure in my life. He wraps his arms around me too, slightly delayed, as if surprised by my sudden movement. I move back slightly, pressing my nose up to his and staring into his deep, knowing eyes.

"It's perfect." I whisper, moving my hand up to his jaw and touching our lips together delicately. It's like sweet surrender, relief from all my problems, and I find myself leaning into it, pressing my lips against his more assuredly. I slide my fingers up to rest in the groove at the base of his neck, where his hair is fine and downy.

After several minutes, I pull back slowly and look into Mr Blaine's eyes. I wrap my arms around his neck and touch our foreheads together. He is smiling at me, his eyes twinkling. I release him and he turns to the table.

"Go and sit down on the sofa." He says. I oblige, switching the TV off the children's programme that I accidentally left on when I took Ben upstairs. Blaine enters, holding two glasses of wine, with a bar of chocolate and the DVDs under his arms. He places a DVD in the DVD player and settles down on the sofa next to me. I cuddle up to him as he passes me a glass of wine. The title sequence starts and I look at him, wide eyed.

"The Notebook?" I ask, staring into his eyes. He nods.

"I know it's a tear-jerker, but," He whips a packet of tissues out of his pocket with a flourish. "We have tissues, and I'm here to cry on. Deal?"

"Deal." I whisper, placing my wine down on a wooden coaster on the side table and lying up against him, with my head on his chest. He places his arms protectively around me as the music starts to play. Once I'm settled, he kisses my head and holds me close.