A/N: Okay, so here it is—the start of Original Song...it actually covers a few chapters (this goes a little past Blackbird...) Anyway, enjoy, and please review!
Disclaimer: I don't own Glee, nor anything else you may recognize!
Chapter 29—What the Hell?
Regionals was coming up. It was only two weeks away, and we still didn't know for certain what songs we were singing. We had abandoned Animal as it had made Kurt uncomfortable, and were considering instead doing a P!nk song, along with Maroon 5's awesome Misery. However, as we still weren't completely convinced about Misery, Wes decided we should do another impromptu performance, kinda like the one Kurt had once spied on. And so it was that on Monday, I burst into study hall throwing a bunch of sheet music in the air. Getting into my performance zone, I lost all focus on individuals, and it all became a game.
So scared of breaking it that you won't let it bend,
And I wrote two hundred letters I won't ever send.
Sometimes these cuts are so much deeper then they seemed,
You'd rather cover up, I'd rather let them be.
So let me be,
And I'll set you free...
I am in misery,
There ain't nobody who can comfort me,
Oh yeah,
Why won't you answer me?
The silence is slowly killing me,
Oh yeah!
Girl, you really got me bad,
You really got me bad.
And I'm gonna get you back,
I'm gonna get you back.
Dancing around like a madman, I thought briefly—this is where I belong, this is what I was made for.
You say your faith is shaken,
And you may be mistaken,
You keep me wide awake and waiting for the sun.
I'm desperate and confused,
So far away from you,
I'm getting there,
I don't care where I have to roam.
Why do you do what you do to me, yeah?
Why won't you answer me, answer me, yeah?
Why do you do what you do to me, yeah?
Why won't you answer me, answer me, yeah?
I am in misery,
There ain't nobody to comfort me,
Oh yeah,
Why won't you answer me,
The silence is slowly killing me,
Oh yeah!
Girl, you really got me bad,
You really got me bad,
And I'm gonna get you back,
I'm gonna get you back.
We ended well, and I smiled, ecstatic with the way it had turned out. It was so much fun—the song, the choreography, the dancing around with Kurt.
Pumped up on adrenaline from the performance, I shouted, "Hey Regionals? You just met our opening number!"
All the other guys cheered and scattered, except for Kurt, who smiled (but it didn't seem that genuine...huh...), and started to pack up his things.
Approaching him, I asked, "How did you manage to find a Burbury-esque canary cage cover?", smiling at the absurdity of it. So of course Kurt would have one!
"Canaries don't like cold weather. Especially Pavarotti!" Kurt deflected, smiling down at his bird.
"So, what did you think of the song?" I asked, excited to hear his opinion, and unable to control my happiness.
However, Kurt hesitated. "Can I be really honest with you? Because it comes from a place of caring." he added, holding a hand to his heart.
Oookay, this didn't sound promising, but as I respected his opinion (whatever it was), I nodded confusedly.
Kurt winced slightly. "Been there, done that." he told me, and I couldn't believe my ears. Kurt didn't like it when I soloed? I mean, sure, I got most of the solos, but that was because I was the lead soloist! I had earned those solos!
Seeing my dumbstruck look, Kurt continued, "Look, you're amazing, Blaine, and your solos are breathtaking," I nodded and smiled, already knowing that, but still loving the praise, "they're also numerous." Kurt added, dropping the bomb.
He started to walk away while I wrapped my head around the fact that Kurt, my supportive best friend, was basically telling me I was being a solo-hog. "Kurt, the council decides who gets the solos." I reminded him, walking after him, not able to let that go. He turned back towards me, looking at Pavarotti cutely. "Do I detect a little jealousy?" I asked, not wanting this to be the case, but sure it had to be the answer.
Imagine my incredulousness when Kurt retorted, "Oh, you detect a lot of jealousy."
Open-mouthed, I listened as Kurt continued on (in a slightly softer tone), "Look, Blaine, sometimes I don't feel like we're the Warblers—I feel like we're Blaine and the Pips."
With that, he did walk away, leaving me contemplative and shocked behind. Kurt didn't like the Warblers? Or more like, he didn't like me being lead soloist? I knew I got most of the solos, but I also knew that my voice fit all of those songs well, and nobody ever got indignant about it. Well, not until now, I guess.
And what was I supposed to do? Give up all my solos? NO! I loved soloing—I was good at it, and other people liked me to do it too. I wasn't going to give them up just because Kurt picked the most inopportune time to become jealous of me.
But what to do about Kurt? Maybe something was going on in his life that was making him stressed, and that was why he was harping on me. Well, I wasn't giving up my solos, so Kurt could just learn to deal. If we beat the New Directions, maybe Kurt could get a solo at Nationals...
The rest of the week was fairly strained. Kurt didn't talk as much to me, and was silent during rehearsals. He ate lunch in his dorm while studying, he wouldn't watch any movies at night anymore, he didn't joke around in class—in short, he was falling back into the rut he had been in right before Christmas Break. As he was apparently mad at me, I couldn't do anything to help this time, and could only watch on the sidelines as Kurt went through the week miserable. Then, on Friday, Wes added a rehearsal on Saturday. This was the Saturday rehearsal we'd ever had, and Kurt spoke up, "Can't we move it to Sunday afternoon?"
"No, as we'll be having one then as well." Wes replied.
"So I have to drive to Lima Friday night, then back here on Saturday morning?" Kurt asked, unhappy.
Wes rolled his eyes. "You board here, Kurt, you can just stay overnight." he told Kurt.
Wincing, I realized that Kurt didn't want to miss Friday night dinner with his dad, Finn, and Carole. It sure made things inconvenient, but it'd be worth it in the end if we won.
"I have to be home for Friday night dinner!" Kurt retorted.
Rolling his eyes, Wes said impatiently, "You can skip it for one week, Kurt. Do you want to win or not?"
Freezing, Kurt looked Wes straight in the eye. "The last, and only, time I skipped a Friday night dinner to go see a musical with Cedes, my dad told me he was disappointed in me. You know what happened the next day?"
Intimidated by the forcefulness in Kurt's eyes, Wes shook his head, speechless. "He had his heart attack. Now excuse me for wanting to never miss another one again." Kurt told him woodenly.
As Wes seemed unable to speak, and we were all staring pityingly at Kurt, David spoke up. "Then go home, and come back. It's not ideal, but we're all making sacrifices." he said evenly.
Upset, Kurt finally nodded, and sank deeper into the couch he was sitting in. This was not going to be good...
Come Saturday, Warblers rehearsal started without Kurt. We had mulled around for about ten minutes, everyone chatting, while Wes, David, and I anxiously watched the door. I got more and more antsy as time went on while Wes got more and more irritated. Even David wasn't able to calm him down fully, but after fifteen minutes of this, Wes rapped his gavel.
"Well, I guess we'll just have to start now and not waste any more rehearsal time." he announced testily.
"He's probably just caught up in traffic." I hastily put in, not wanting the other guys to blame or be mad at Kurt.
"And that," Wes said shortly, "is why they invented phones—to call people and inform them where they are, and if they're gonna be late."
David cut in. "Okay, so Kurt's a little late, but hopefully he'll still make it. Now, what can we discuss first that we don't need Kurt for?"
Deflating slightly, Wes pursed his lips slightly. "Song selection?" he suggested wryly.
"We know what songs we're singing." I reminded him. "What about our uniform?"
"What about it?" Thad asked, instantly defensive.
Shrugging, I suggested, "Well, we could change the colors, maybe."
Instantly, there was a small uproar from the other Warblers (everyone loved the uniform for some reason, I just wanted to shake things up a little).
"Warblers, Warblers, I am merely suggesting that instead of wearing blue ties with red piping, we wear jackets with red ties and blue piping for the competition." I cut in to their noise, but my words didn't seem to appease them. Trent even went as far as to declare,
"This is a kangaroo court!"
All of a sudden, the double doors banged open, and in strode Kurt, sad-faced and teary-eyed. My first thought was—oh god, what happened? My second thought was—I really hope Wes doesn't beat him up about being late...
"Kurt, what's wrong?" I asked, concerned.
Standing there in a black suit ensemble (not the Dalton uniform), tear-tracks down his face, I just wanted to hug him and let him cry on my shoulder...then I remembered that we hadn't been talking, and my heart fell slightly.
"It's Pavarotti." Kurt answered, then, after hesitating, went on. "Pavarotti's dead. I suspect a stroke." he announced.
All of a sudden, I felt so cold. I had loved the little bird very much, but I knew Kurt loved him still even more, and he must be feeling terrible right now. Pavarotti had been there for him through everything and anything, and now he was gone.
"Oh my God, I'm so sorry." I told him, words unable to distress how I felt.
All the Warblers were looking at Kurt sadly, Wes' anger dissolved instantly, and some of them seemed thrown by this—no one could've dreamt of this happening.
Kurt nodded slightly. "I know it's really stupid to be upset about a bird, but...he, he inspired me, with his optimism and love of song. He was my friend." he nodded, looking around at us, then his gaze focused of me. "Now I know that today, we need to practice doo-opping behind Blaine while he sings every solo in the medley of Pink songs, but," he took a breath, glancing slightly at my pained expression, "I would like to sing a song for Pavarotti today."
Whipping out a cassette from his jacket pocket, he handed it to James, who, putting a comforting hand briefly on Kurt's arm, put the cassette into the cd player we kept in the room for when we (rarely) needed instrumental backing. Sitting down, I focused on Kurt, who took a deep breath.
The opening to the song came on, and I recognized it as the Beatles' Blackbird.
Blackbird singing in the dead of night,
Take these broken wings and learn to fly,
All your life you were only waiting,
For this moment to arise.
He started out the first verse himself, his voice so pure and beautiful, his wistfulness almost tangible in the air. At the start of the second verse, however, we joined in, and I noticed then how well his voice sounded atop all of ours.
Blackbird singing in the dead of night,
Take these sunken eyes and learn to see,
All your life you were only waiting,
For this moment to be free.
Blackbird fly, blackbird fly.
Into the light of the dark black night,
Blackbird fly, blackbird fly,
Into the light of the dark black night.
As we reached the high note in our harmonizing, Kurt began to move, and he caught my eye. Unconsciously, I dropped out of the harmony, instead staring at Kurt. While the Warblers carried on with their harmony, I looked at Kurt, and thought, Even with his eyes welling with tears, and a sad expression, he was still the most beautiful person I'd ever seen.
Wait, what? Beautiful? Where did that come from? Nobody thought their friends were beautiful! Good-looking, yes; kind, yes; caring, yes; amazing, yes; sweet, yes; beautiful, no.
Looking back at Kurt, I saw this creature in front of me who was all of those things, and many more. He was gorgeous, the way his chestnut hair gleamed slightly and his beautiful eyes changed in the light, he was...he was everything. Shifting slightly in my seat, I stared at him as he started to sing again, his voice angelic bells to my ears.
Blackbird singing in the dead of night,
Take these broken wings and learn to fly,
All your life you were only waiting,
For this moment to arise.
You were only waiting,
For this moment to arise,
You were only waiting,
For this moment to arise.
Smiling slightly, I looked up at the man I loved, and thought, Oh, there you are...I've been looking for you forever. And I had. All this time, I'd been searching for someone to love and to love me, and he had been right in front of me the entire time. How stupid was I?
The last note faded, and there was a moment of silence until Kurt, fresh tear-tracks down his face, nodded his head slightly. "Thank you." he said quietly, choked by his emotions.
"Kurt?" Wes asked tentatively. "Why don't we cancel rehearsal for today, okay? We can have one tomorrow, if that'll make you feel better."
Nodding, Kurt wiped his eyes. "Yes, please. Dad said I should stay here over the weekend, but I'd like to be alone." he said, then walked out of the room, still wiping his eyes.
The doors shut behind him, and we were all silent for a minute. Finally, David, noticing my face, asked me, "Blaine? Are you okay?"
Focusing in to see everyone now staring at me worriedly, I gave a small start. "Y-yeah, I'm f-fine." I stuttered, still affected by my unexpected epiphany.
"You don't look so great..." Nick told me, looking carefully at my stunned expression.
Clearing my throat, I managed to choke out, "I-it's nothing. Umm, I'll see you guys tomorrow." then ran out of the room.
Running to my dorm, I slammed the door, and flopped on my bed. What the hell was going on with me? All I knew for certain was—I was in love with Kurt, my best friend, and the guy who had once had a crush on me. Not only that, but also the boy whose best friend, female best friend, I'd once dated, and who I'd told wasn't sexy. What the hell should I do? It seemed like that with Kurt, I had made bad step after bad step, just because I was an oblivious idiot as to my feelings.
Well, the one thing I had to do was confess my feelings. I don't think I could bear to keep all my feelings inside my head or heart. Now I knew why I had always disliked Finn, why I had driven to Lima all those times just to be with him, why I had a special 'Kurt' playlist on my iPod that I listened to whenever I was sad...why I constantly used phrases like 'my heart' when it came to him. He was just so...special didn't even cut it. Unique was a given. Incredible, beautiful, sexy, and compassionate just barely started to cover the amazingness that was my love. He was just so...lovable. Everything about him was so perfect, and while nobody was perfect, he was the perfect kind of imperfect, and I wanted him all to myself.
Not able to do anything else, I laid on my bed, listening to my 'Kurt' playlist, wishing I had him with me in my arms. Soon, I wished fervently, soon.
A/N: What do you guys think? Not so oblivious now, huh? I was really excited to write this, so please review and tell me how you guys think it is (the more reviews, the fast I might update the next chapter...!) Thank you everybody!
