Title: Wild Horses - Epilogue Part 1B
Word Count: ~5,000
Warnings: AU (using as much canon as possible but a little out of order)
Rating: PG-13 for this chapter
Summary: A local PFLAG scheme uses the lost art of letter writing to bring people together.
Author's Notes
I am just ridiculous. I was doing so well with keeping everything together but once I started writing one particular scene, it felt really important so I wanted to keep it in and then I reached a point where I wanted this entire Chapter to be separate.
This is all VERY MUCH the changes in their lives. How they're coming to terms with things, how everything is altering very slightly and I liked it being contained in one Chapter. I hope you don't mind me splitting it!
As you'll see, Prom begins immediately in Part C!
Thank you to everyone who has been reccing this so much lately. Thank You. So much. 3
Big thank you to ccmskatechick as always for her attention and loveliness and to whenidance who is to thank for the ending being finished already ;)
"Just don't move."
"Kurt, um, Kurt!"
Rachel yelped, hand flying to her mouth. "Sorry!" she rushed out, half giggling with enormous eyes as she twisted to glare down. "Just... your hand. Sorry it's just I know you're gay but it's not every day that someone has their hand-"
"Stop talking, Rachel." Kurt shook his head, bewildered. She really was insane sometimes. He focused on his fingers and ignored her babbling.
"Ok, now turn," he urged, tugging the taffeta down as she turned, swirling on the spot with her arms gracefully poised as if to jete or pirouette.
"How do I look?" she sang, eyes glistening. Kurt couldn't lie. She looked spectacular, with added thanks to his handiwork. The dress had been delivered a couple of inches too long and as Rachel was, as Santana so kindly put it, a little on the hobbitted side, she needed it to be hemmed up.
"Well," Kurt teased, standing and cocking a hip, hand on his chin, "it looks better than before."
She narrowed her eyes playfully, fluffing up the pink layers with a pointed glare. "Well, I think I look like a princess. I certainly feel like one. Now we just need to find Finn a pink bow tie and cummerbund to match and he'll be my prince. Oh," she gasped, half dancing, "I feel like Cinderella or Eliza Dolittle. Post make-over."
Kurt bit back a giggle. "Just as long as I'm spared your rendition of 'I could have danced all night."
She giggled herself, bouncing on the balls of her dainty bare feet. "I cannot promise anything. When a song hits me, it begs to be sung."
As she hummed along to herself, Kurt busied his hands with the multitude of needles, threads and pins lying scattered on the table. They'd managed to use a classroom of an evening under the guise of Glee Club Costume Preparations so Kurt had all of the girls - even Santana - sweetening him up and almost batting their eyelids in hope that he'd make them shine for their special night.
"Ok, next!" Kurt shouted as Rachel twirled her way to sit across from them, crossing her legs with an "oomph" as she sat into a cloud of pink.
Tina crept out, hands self consciously smoothing her straps. "What do you think? I love the color but don't know if it fits right."
It looked stunning. Tina had always been his female fashionisa; their tastes were completely different but Kurt couldn't help but admire her bold choices, unusual cuts and striking colours. She wore black beautifully but when in a bright blue or a solid red, she looked radical and amazing. "The color is to die for," he sighed but pulled her arm so she came closer. "The straps are the problem. Spaghetti straps don't compliment your frame but not to worry. We can swing some net and part of this silk up and over for a neckline just like the rest of the dress and it'll be even more of a statement."
He began pinning and tugging gently and smiled to himself at the look of contentment on her face. "Thank you, Kurt. We're all so happy you decided to help. Getting a look past you is like getting a thumbs up from Joan Rivers. You're nicer though." She winked.
"I'm all human too," Kurt joked, "no plastic in me. I've got my own cheekbones too!"
Giggling, she squirmed to avoid the pins.
"Hummel!" Santana strutted out, hands on her hips and a smug smile on her face; every length of red silk clung to her frame in waves.
"Wow." Kurt gasped, pin clamped between his lips. He knew he'd regret his momentary lapse in judgement but she looked stunning. "As much as it pains me to say it, you look spectacular. Devil in a red dress."
"Roll your tongue back up," Santana drawled, posing as if on the red carpet. "I have my date already."
He'd been wanting to tell them all day. If truth be told, he'd been desperate to scream it at the top of his lungs - 'I have a gorgeous boyfriend and he wants to take me to prom!'
"I don't need your charity, thank you, Santana." He dragged her name out, eyebrows raised in protest. "I have a date of my own, I'll have you know."
"Whatever. Taking your imaginary friend doesn't count, Kurt. So lame."
Britt tipped her head around the corner of the changing booth. "Wait. Kurt has an imaginary friend? That's awesome!"
Rolling his eyes, Kurt groaned. "No. Look, I don't have anything of the sort but what I do have is a boy who wishes to escort me to my junior prom so... there."
The room was silent for a second. Rachel sprung up from the sofa, rushing to grab his hands; he blinked back at the intensity in her eyes. "Blaine? Oh Kurt, is it Blaine?"
He couldn't hold back the grin. At all. "Yes."
She squealed, Tina clapping and bounding over to his him just as Brittany almost knocked over the partition to get to him herself. Santana slapped him on the back.
"If Blaine's that short guy with the curls from Night of Neglect then, get it Kurt. He's hawt."
It felt amazing. Not only was he on their level now, he had a legitimate reason to be optimistic, a giddy spring in his step and a smile that refused to slide away.
He also had a definite excuse to go shopping and that was the icing on the very large cake.
"Kurt?"
Turning, Kurt smiled tiredly. He rubbed at his eyes. "Hey."
Finn bounced down on the bed as Kurt slid his bookmark into his silver diary. "I need your help."
"I'm warning you, I just spent the night with the girls and I did more sewing and pinning than the Emmanuels did on Lady Diana's dress so I might not be at my most coherent right now but still, what is it?"
Finn blinked, frowning. "No idea who those people are but cool. I just need help with Prom stuff."
"You can borrow my pink bow tie before you ask."
Finn beamed. "Awesome. Yeah, that's awesome but I need to buy Rachel something, right? Like a present or something. Don't dudes in those chick flicks get them a flower or whatever?"
Kurt sighed with a smile. Sometimes it was so strikingly obvious that he and Finn shared no blood link but that didn't stop Kurt from sometimes wanting to give Finn a cuddle. It was a feeling that didn't come along often but when it did, in those quiet moments when they just existed around each other and shared things, Finn was everything a big brother should be.
"Yes. You need to buy her a corsage or as you so demurely put it, a 'flower thing'. Do you want me to help you order it?"
"Um, yes. I know she's pretty chill about prom but she keeps talking about being a princess so I thought she'd want all the extra stuff, you know?"
"Finn, every girl wants that."
"Exactly, which is why I just want to do it right."
Smiling, Kurt patted his hand and slid to the end of the bed, opening his laptop. "Ok, just leave me to it for a minute and I'll show you some options."
Finn nodded happily and pulled out his iPhone and leaned back on the bed, obviously playing some inane game.
WarblerBlaine is online.
Getoffofmyrunway is online.
WarblerBlaine:Kurrrrrrrrtttttttt!
Getoffofmyrunway: Hey you
WarblerBlaine:Whatcha doing?
Getoffofmyrunway: Helping Finn choose a corsage for Rachel. I'm thinking fresh flowers, pink or white to match her dress and a small sprig of green.
WarblerBlaine:Sounds beautiful. How is the outfit coming along?
Getoffofmyrunway: Fine
WarblerBlaine:Just 'fine'?
Getoffofmyrunway: Yes.
WarblerBlaine:Kurt?
Getoffofmyrunway: What?
WarblerBlaine:Why are you not typing a mile a minute and explaining how amazing it is?
Getoffofmyrunway: Well I'm wearing a kilt. It's fantastic. I made it myself, jacket too!
WarblerBlaine:Wow
Getoffofmyrunway: That a good wow or a bad wow?
WarblerBlaine:Both...
Getoffofmyrunway: Oh ok
WarblerBlaine:Good because you'll look AMAZING and there are no words for the things the word 'kilt' does to me and bad well not bad but I just want to make sure that you'll be ok
Getoffofmyrunway: What do you mean?
WarblerBlaine:I mean that you're doing it for the right reasons that's all
Getoffofmyrunway: I want to wear it. I've worked hard on it. Those are my reasons
WarblerBlaine:Well in that case. It sounds perfect
Getoffofmyrunway: Why did you just bring that up?
WarblerBlaine:I'm sorry, Kurt. School dances and I are a sore subject so I just want to make sure we're going to be safe - you're going to be safe
Getoffofmyrunway: Blaine, we'll be fine
WarblerBlaine:I know
Getoffofmyrunway: And you're not weird about me wearing a kilt?
WarblerBlaine:No! No, nothing like that, I just don't want us to cause any trouble by just being ourselves. I just want us to be sensible too
Getoffofmyrunway: I don't care what they think. I'm going to my junior prom wearing the outfit I want to wear and I'm going to dance with my boyfriend
WarblerBlaine:Sounds amazing. I'm sorry about before
Getoffofmyrunway: It's ok. I get it. I know what you went though and it's understandable. It can be a re-do, a chance for you to do it right and not to have people spoil it so much for you. It can be a HAPPY memory.
WarblerBlaine:Yeah :) I guess. I just want to prove my dad wrong.
Getoffofmyrunway: I'm marking your dance card all night long. Nobody is getting a look in.
WarblerBlaine:Don't I feel special?
Getoffofmyrunway: You should.
WarblerBlaine:Awww Kurt. Why am I not there?
Getoffofmyrunway: It's late, that's why.
WarblerBlaine:Still...
Getoffofmyrunway: Are you ok?
WarblerBlaine:Dad being awkward about Prom. Don't think he wants me to go
Getoffofmyrunway: I can understand why, in a way
WarblerBlaine:He would have me wrapped in cotton wool if he could
Getoffofmyrunway: I wish I was there
WarblerBlaine:Me too. So much. My mom was pretty great though. She told him that it was my choice. That I'm getting older and should be able to make my own decisions
Getoffofmyrunway: Good. I'm glad. It's your life and I know they need to take care of you but my dad knows that he can give me as much advice as he wants and I'll always listen but in the end I'm always going to make the final decision for myself
WarblerBlaine:That's what I told my Dad. I was proud of my mom in a way.
Getoffofmyrunway: That's amazing
WarblerBlaine:It is :)
Getoffofmyrunway: I really want to give you a hug right now
WarblerBlaine:Don't say that :( makes it worse that I can't be there
Getoffofmyrunway: Just think
WarblerBlaine:What?
Getoffofmyrunway: Don't freak out...
WarblerBlaine:Try me :)
Getoffofmyrunway: I was going to say, just think when we've got a place of our own
WarblerBlaine:Wow
Getoffofmyrunway: Bad or good, this time?
WarblerBlaine:Very good. Amazing. Perfect actually.
Getoffofmyrunway: You'll let me decorate, right?
WarblerBlaine:Naturally :) :)
Getoffofmyrunway: And then whenever you need a cuddle, I'll be there.
WarblerBlaine:Vice versa.
Getoffofmyrunway: That sounds wonderful.
WarblerBlaine:It definitely does! My dreams will be all domestic and cute tonight!
Getoffofmyrunway: Weirdo
WarblerBlaine:I'm talking... you in an apron...
Getoffofmyrunway: Only an apron?
WarblerBlaine: Kurt!
Getoffofmyrunway: Well! You didn't specify! ;)
WarblerBlaine:Oh my god. I can't believe you just said that.
Getoffofmyrunway: Bad image?
WarblerBlaine:Shhhhhhh. I'm trying to picture it
Getoffofmyrunway: Blaine! My brother is in the room with me. Stop trying to picture me naked in an apron. You are SO inappropriate over chat, soooooooo bad.
WarblerBlaine:Yep soooooo bad
Getoffofmyrunway: Oh shut up. Now you're flirting
WarblerBlaine:Pretty much :)
Getoffofmyrunway: I miss you already and it has only been a couple of days :(
WarblerBlaine:I'm saving all of my kisses up
Getoffofmyrunway: What a lovely thought
WarblerBlaine:Plus I can't wait to see you in that kilt
Getoffofmyrunway: Oh my god! I'm shopping for corsages. Stop being rude.
WarblerBlaine:I'm actually pouting at the screen because I'm missing your blushing.
Getoffofmyrunway: Blushing makes me look like a twelve year old teenybopper in pigtails
WarblerBlaine:No. Blushing makes you real. It makes you cute and it means that things make you FEEL
Getoffofmyrunway: I'll take your word for it
WarblerBlaine:Ok I'll let you get back to shopping. How's Finn?
Getoffofmyrunway: I think he may have watched some of my movies for Prom inspiration. Never Been Kissed and She's All That were out of alphabetical order.
WarblerBlaine:I am laughing so hard
Getoffofmyrunway: Maybe we'll be taking part in a synchronised dance!
WarblerBlaine:Don't
Getoffofmyrunway: Or someone will come out as an undercover reporter. Maybe Britt. Maybe it has all been an elaborate ruse!
WarblerBlaine:Hahahaha
Getoffofmyrunway: Or maybe there'll be a meeting of the two classes and the rich kid shall turn up to prove his worth and leave the lonely quirky one to be... well, lonely and quirky
WarblerBlaine:Pretty in Pink?
Getoffofmyrunway: Ooooooo you're good!
WarblerBlaine:That out of alphabetical order too?
Getoffofmyrunway: No. Worse. The DVD's missing.
WarblerBlaine:Oh no. What if he's fashioning his own bow tie and cummerbund out of something?
Getoffofmyrunway: Blaine, Finn doesn't know a sewing machine from a microwave. No way.
WarblerBlaine:Hahahahaha still, the thought alone is hilarious
Getoffofmyrunway: Anyway, that movie's special. I may have bought it after one of your letters...
WarblerBlaine:Really? Awwww
Getoffofmyrunway: Your name looks much prettier with an 'i'.
WarblerBlaine:I'll be sure to tell my mom.
Getoffofmyrunway: Also, you're better looking than him
WarblerBlaine:Blane?
Getoffofmyrunway: Yes. He needs a hair trim and he's a bit slimy. Plus, he has questionable morals
WarblerBlaine:A minute ago I was picturing you wearing only an apron...
Getoffofmyrunway: True! Oh god! Why am I still associating myself with you? What am I doing with my life?
WarblerBlaine:Shopping for corsages?
Getoffofmyrunway: You're cute
WarblerBlaine:I know :)
Getoffofmyrunway: Logging off now, big head. Speak to you tomorrow.
WarblerBlaine:Call you later?
Getoffofmyrunway: Ha! Smooth.
WarblerBlaine:I thought so :D :D
Getoffofmyrunway: Ok. I'll call when I'm in bed.
WarblerBlaine:Oh there go those questionable morals again!
Getoffofmyrunway: GOODBYE BLAINE! 3
Three Days Later
Blaine, are you busy this evening?
Hey you! Just leaving Warbler practice. My schedule's clear! I was going to ask if you wanted to grab food or see a movie or something? We still need to see that Ryan Gosling movie, purely for the political undertones of course ;) ;)
Would you come here? Please?
Yes. No problem. Are you ok?
I will be. Thank you for coming. Drive safe xx
Ok. I'll be there as soon as I can xxxxxxx
It had been an awful day.
Not only had Jesse St James decided that LuPone and Sunset Boulevard were too 'feminine' for a male to sing, he'd also behaved like a A class asshole for the entire afternoon and all but written 'I heart Rachel' on his 'judges' note paper.
Clearly he was only person in McKinley High who hadn't witnessed Rachel and Finn making eyes at each other at any given opportunity.
The whole idea of auditioning for Nationals was beyond pointless, about as useless as velour in a rain storm, when the judges were so horrifically biased or were... Mr Schue. He was the champion of the trier, the supporter of the underdog and that was wonderful until he stopped judging on talent and started judging on effort and sob stories. He was about as helpful as the pea brains on American Idol or whatever reality TV show for the mentally ill was popular with the mainstream.
The worst part was Coach Sylvester.
The day his mother died was the worst day of his life so far. She was there one moment, so full of life and wonderful ideas and then all of a sudden she was gone. Forever.
The look in Coach Sylvester's eyes when she explained that her sister had passed was the very same look that Kurt had been unable to get out of his mind for years. His dad had come into his room and sat on the edge of the bed to deliver the worst news imaginable. The look was fear; it was panic, desperation, shock, sadness and utter devastation.
At school, she'd been a shell of a person and Kurt had looked at Finn once and understood exactly what they had to do.
Visiting the home that Jean Sylvester had lived in was hard. He'd spent most of the day choked, eyes full of hot tears bitten back for the sake of Sue and even Finn. Crying didn't help anyone other than the person who shed the tears. Her things were so personal, so unique to her life and spirit and Kurt knew he'd go home and drag out every last memory of his mother to make sure that he remember her correctly.
Seeing Sue push it all away, dismiss the things that people were supposed to cherish had been difficult. Kurt knew how much it had meant over the years to be able to remind himself of his mother, to use her things, to smell her perfume and to look at the objects that she considered special. Sue would no doubt need that one day and depriving her of it felt wrong, cruel even.
Mercedes had called, asking him for help with her only recently purchased prom dress but he'd put it off, promising her that he'd be there tomorrow, sewing kit in hand. The garage was always open late during the week so Kurt knew the house would be quiet except for Carole who would be sleeping off a long shift on the couch and Finn who seemed to have an entire year's worth of Math and History homework to catch up on.
Kurt sat on the edge of his bed and waited, hands in his lap clasped tight.
He wanted Blaine. Anything spoken about Elizabeth Hummel that wasn't from Burt's own lips seemed to catch him unawares and make him sad so Kurt never brought her up, just simply took advantage of the times Burt would. Kurt knew he couldn't bother his dad with it all and Carole and Finn had their own problems.
Regardless, Blaine was all Kurt found himself thinking of. Ordinarily he'd have pulled out his writing set and got to work on a letter as he cried and let his emotions pour onto the page but now he didn't have to wait for a response, Blaine could be so close and it was too tempting for words.
"Kurt, honey!" Carole's voice made him jump warm and urgent as it travelled up the stairs. "You have a visitor!"
It wasn't long before Blaine stood in the doorway. Kurt just looked. He didn't move and neither did Blaine for a moment before he seemed to breathe in and sit close-by on the bed.
"What happened?"
Kurt closed his eyes tight, hands clinging to the fur of his bed cover. It was difficult to form into clear and coherent words.
"Coach Sylvester's sister died."
Kurt didn't open his eyes but he felt Blaine's chest deflate and the mattress move a little as Blaine shuffled back onto it. "That's awful. I'm sorry. Was she ill?"
Kurt shook his head gently; it felt stiff as if the thoughts were clogging him up, his mind so tight like a pressure cooker. "She had Down's syndrome. I never met her but I always knew there was a reason why Coach Sylvester had such a soft spot for Becky Jackson. She's a really sweet girl but even Coach Sylvester doesn't keep people that close unless it's for a reason. Guess I know why now."
He opened his eyes to find Blaine, hands clasped in his lap and listening quietly.
"So her sister, was she close to her?"
Kurt nodded. "You should have seen her face. She – Her eyes – " It was too much to picture at once. Every memory of the week of hell he'd had to endure at such a young age came flooding back: relative patting his shoulder and claiming that his mom lived in 'here' as they pointed to their hearts, people he'd never seen before passing him cups of juice with smiles so forced...
"Kurt?"
He didn't even realise. Tears were falling, hot and heavy onto the collar of his shirt and down to the 'V' of his waistcoat where they stained, pale grey turning to black.
"I've never – I've never thought about her as much as I have today and I just –" He couldn't breathe, something vice-like clasping his lungs until he was forced to suck in a breath, leaning into his own hands that were suddenly there to catch him. "I miss her sometimes. So much."
Blaine couldn't move. He'd known heart ache in his life but he was fortunate in that he still had his family including every grandparent. Burt Hummel was a great guy and obviously an incredible father but Blaine knew Kurt and could see exactly why having lost a mother would sting so much more in a way. Losing a parent was a pain that nobody could imagine but for Kurt, he had sought out affection and some resemblance of support all of his life and his mother could have been that for him. His fondest memory had been of her, after all, and she seemed to have passed on so much of herself to him.
Watching Kurt cry wasn't easy. Blaine hadn't seen someone so vulnerable in all his life. Kurt was 'strength' personified. From his biting wit to his solid shoulders, he only allowed his eyes to give him away but now, sitting crumpled in two, Kurt looked so fragile.
"It made you remember your mom?"
Kurt nodded into his hand, sniffing loudly and dragging his fingers under his eyelashes. "Coach Sylvester looked like she was in pain. We went to her sister's home and helped her pack up her things and it was too personal, I don't know – " Turning to Blaine, Kurt could see the uncertainty in his eyes. "Finn came too and we tried to help but neither of us felt as if we could. She wouldn't let us. I don't do this... I don't –"
"Everyone reacts differently, don't they?" Blaine reached out, his hand wide against Kurt's leg. He took a breath, shuffling a little closer and hoping it helped in some insignificant way. He couldn't hug Kurt for some reason. It was as if Kurt was trying so hard to hold himself together and that this was much more important, the talking. "I know I don't understand, not really, but I'm here."
Kurt smiled a little. Blaine could see it through his fingers. "I know you are." As he spoke, Kurt leaned to his right, shoulder landing against Blaine's softly; he let it rest there. His fingers were wet, cheeks damp and the collar of his green shirt looked uncomfortably soggy. Blaine fished in his pocket for a second and drew out a packet of tissues – the packet he always carried with him as in inherited habit from his ever-prepared mother – and let it linger in front of Kurt's face for a second.
As Kurt slid one out, he turned to Blaine, eyes large and framed by tears. "Thank you," he said simply. He voice wasn't assertive and clear like Blaine had grown so used to; it was softer, choked around the edge of his words.
"I'm glad Finn was there," Blaine said eventually once Kurt had cleaned himself up. "I bet it helped. Didn't you say his Dad died when he was young?"
Kurt nodded, turning on the bed to face Blaine now. "When he was a baby. He was in the army."
"Wow," Blaine breathed. He was truly lucky. His family weren't perfect – far from it – and they weren't the conventional parents or the ones he'd have chosen but they were still there and, in their own way, they tried. "I doubt any of this was easy on both of you."
"We're ok," Kurt laughed out. "We're both tougher than we look. It just made me think, that's all."
It was true. Blaine had sensed that from the very first moment he wrote to Kurt, his unwavering mission to succeed and push past anyone who tried to hurt him with as much of his rightful dignity intact.
"You're one of the strongest people I know," Blaine sighed, smiling. He nudged Kurt's shoulder gently in hope that it'd draw out a smile too. It worked. Kurt glanced up, eyelashes clumped together with tears. He took a deep breath and let his head fall to Blaine's shoulder, resting warm and still.
He let out a small groan. "Ok, pity party's over. No more tears."
Blaine allowed his hands to soothe, his right palm lifting to press softly against Kurt's shoulder where it rubbed in circles gently. Like a cat, Kurt let out a faint sigh and curled his body into the touch. "You ok?"
"Yes. It's just it gets to me sometimes. I know it was a long time ago," he breathed out, pressing his forehead deeper into Blaine's neck, "when my mom died but it never stops hurting and when I saw how sad Coach Sylvester was and how scared she was, it brought back so many memories. I remember writing to you and telling you all about my mom and I'm so pleased I did."
"Me too." Blaine felt Kurt's lips quirk against his cardigan. "You want to talk about her?"
Kurt leaned back and found Blaine's eyes. It was odd how little he did talk about her, especially to his Dad, but recently she'd cropped up in conversations and the second he'd heard the sad news about Jean Sylvester, the same sharp desperation and aching sadness seeped in.
Usually it felt nice to mention her. It felt like she was still living on, still being brought up and celebrated, but other times it hurt too much because even the mention of her name reminded him that she wouldn't be back. She was gone and he would never be able to get to know her the way he'd always dreamed.
Looking at Blaine, Kurt nodded. Today was a day to celebrate her, remember her and share her because he knew that his Dad had been right – she would have adored Blaine.
For the remainder of the afternoon, Kurt sat in the centre of his carpet and showed Blaine every trinket and memory he owned that had once belonged to Elizabeth Hummel: her emerald and gold brooch with the broken clasp that Kurt had never found the heart to fix, a pair of opal earrings that Burt had bought her on their honeymoon, a pile of her favorite books with some of the pages still turned down, his old birthday cards written in her loopy handwriting (To our darling baby boy, Have the happiest of birthdays, Lots of Love Mom and Dad xxxxx), a thick collection of photographs and a cassette full of her favourite music taped from local radio. Kurt watched as Blaine held each in turn, asking questions and smiling in all of the right places. When he came to the photographs though, his face changed.
"She was tall," he said after a brief silence.
Kurt chuckled softly, shuffling around to sit alongside Blaine with their knees touching. "She wore a lot of heels too. Apparently she had a crazy shoe collection. It spanned an entire wardrobe apparently."
Blaine couldn't resist a smile. "Sounds like someone else I know." Looking up, Kurt's eyes were full but sparkling.
"I clearly inherited her exceptional taste and flair for fashion. Certainly didn't get it off my dad."
"No," Blaine laughed, turning to the second photo. "You have her eyes and her bone structure too. Whereas your dad's face is rounder, hers is sharper and more graceful like yours."
Blaine kept sorting through them, laughing a little when he got to the photograph of her covered in white paint in oversized overalls as she stood in the center of what appeared to be a new house and lingering on the shot of her in hospital, face flushed and eyes shining as she held a baby in her arms. Kurt wasn't moving though; he sat quietly at Blaine's side.
After a moment, Blaine looked up, a little unnerved as to Kurt's silence and found him staring resolutely at his face with an expression nothing short of wonder. Blaine felt his spine tingle – nobody had ever looked at him like that before.
"You're so nice," Kurt said eventually, face relaxing and lips shaking into a tiny smile. He closed his eyes and let his head fall onto Blaine's shoulder with a contented sigh. Without thinking, Blaine pressed a kiss to Kurt's hair and turned to the next photograph.
As they looked slowly through the rest of the contents of the box, Blaine remembered to swallow and breathe and definitely not to cry.
The house was quieter than normal and that was saying something. Blaine bundled up his laundry and deposited it in the old wooden basket in the room just off the kitchen as Lillian appeared around the corner.
She jumped a little, hand on heart. "Blaine! What are you doing in the dark?"
He laughed to himself. She was always so pristine but Lillian Anderson in night clothes was always Blaine's favourite version. She looked younger, softer, and kinder.
"Laundry," he shrugged, straightening the clothing cover he had thrown over his arm.
"And this?" She raised an eyebrows as she leaned against the counter in her dressing gown. "Is this the suit?"
"I didn't know which to go for," Blaine offered, suddenly nervous. They hadn't discussed it much. She'd been his saviour in a way, standing up for him when it was almost out of character for her to do so but she'd tried and that had meant more than Blaine could say.
"Let me see?" She unzipped the cover, hand gentle against Blaine's arm. As the suit slid out, ironed starch straight and jet black, she smiled wide and nodded. "Oh this is classic and almost looks Armani. You'll look very handsome, very smart."
"You think?" It had taken a lot of debating with himself until he'd finally decided upon two. One was quirkier, injected with much more personality and flair where the other was cleaner, simpler and definitely was not designed to turn heads except someone skilled in exquisite tailoring – like Kurt.
"It's very discreet," she cooed, hand smoothing down the fabric, "very understated and I'm sure you will be the best dressed there. This isn't the suit of a boy in high school, this is the suit of a young man."
She meant well. Her smile was so genuine, touch so meaningful, but she still just didn't get it. Life wasn't about being 'understated' and 'discreet', it wasn't about hiding in the background and letting other guys take the better roles, have the bigger adventures and live the greater lives. Life was about carving out your own path, making mistakes, finding your special niche and revelling in your own identity. It was about expressing yourself, smiling, sharing, connecting and finding the joy in life.
Blaine nodded regardless, knowing exactly how sincere his own mother was about the suit being perfect for the night in question. In a way she was right. He wouldn't have found the courage to wear anything quite as outlandish as Kurt because the fear was still there, prickling under the surface of his skin and the night would be tainted with stress and continual worry from the beginning if he decided to allow the recklessness in.
Standing out wasn't the aim of the evening as much as he so desperately wanted it to be. Just the same way as he felt suffocated sometimes with the home they lived in - the neatness and careful pristine way it just didn't have any real feeling in it, no obvious heart – he suppressed the need to rebel and express himself for this single free standing evening. Kurt didn't deserve the added trouble. He'd be the perfect date; he'd be the person he should be, the boy he was inside but without showing it outwardly. Kurt would understand, he'd have enough flare for both of them and maybe if it went ok and nothing bad came their way, Blaine could learn to relax next time.
"Let me know if you need to borrow any cufflinks for tomorrow, sweetheart," Lillian offered gently as she stood in the doorway, framed by the yellow glow of the hall light, "I'm sure your father would let you borrow some of his."
She smiled and drifted up the stairs, silk billowing behind her.
Blaine stood still for a moment and considered threading his arm through Kurt's for pre-Prom photographs, holding his hand in the car, reaching to touch Kurt's cheek as they (hopefully) kissed goodnight... with his cuffs being held with his father's property.
Something twisted but a little bit smug said that 'yes', Blaine would wear them and he'd enjoy every single second.
Thank you for all of your lovely comments/messages/recs. We only have 2 more parts to go!
The next part is... well, I think you'll like it! : )