Kurt, Tuesday June 26th 2014, 1.45 pm
"Look, over there, you can see the Eiffel Tower!" Rachel squeals as we're walking along the river Seine.
We're in Paris - me, Ali, Rachel, and Santana. It started as a crazy idea one night in August last year. It was the beginning of the semester, and I think we all had had a little too much to drink when Santana came up with the brilliant idea that we absolutely needed to travel to Europe this summer.
Ali had decided that she wanted to live with us after all, said she'd rather live with friends than with strangers. She moved in with us in August and we were throwing her a welcome party when Santana hatched the idea. Drunken us were all in agreement that it was in fact the most genius idea we've ever heard. The only problem was that none of us had the money to make such a trip. But the idea stuck and we all worked really hard at finding jobs and saving up the money.
And now we're here, in Paris. The City of Love. Okay, so I'm rooming with Ali, which isn't exactly very romantic, but she's my best friend, and I'd rather share a room with her than Rachel or Santana. We're staying in a cheap hotel on the outskirts of Paris because that's all we can afford. But we're here, in Paris! Where we stay doesn't really matter. I never thought I'd actually get to experience this city.
Even though Rachel has a boyfriend and Santana has a girlfriend, we made a pact to go just the four of us. This is our trip. Rachel's boyfriend complained more than a little that he wasn't allowed to join us, but a pact is a pact. I suspect that Rachel isn't really serious about him anyway. There's something going on between her and Finn, I can feel it even though none of them are admitting to anything.
Finn came to visit me for Thanksgiving last fall. I couldn't afford to go home, and I had promised I'd work extra that weekend. Dad and Carole were going to visit some relatives of Carole and Finn, but Finn didn't particularly feel like visiting some old aunt, so instead he came to visit me in New York. Which was nice and strange at the same time because we didn't really know each other. After that weekend, we got a lot closer though.
Ali and Santana had gone home for the weekend, and it was only me, Finn and Rachel in the apartment. I'm pretty sure something happened between them that weekend. Some time when I was working and had to leave the touring of the city to Rachel, something happened because when I got home they both looked guilty. Why I don't know cause they were both single at the time. Finn swore nothing happened when I asked him, and Rachel just gave me evasive answers to my blunt questions. I know they are still in touch because I've seen her phone light up with texts from him.
What happened between them after that weekend and how she ended up with Brody as her boyfriend is an unknown mystery to me. I do know, however, that her face lights up a whole lot when she gets texts from Finn.
"Let's go there!" Santana says and takes the lead.
We walk closer and take a bunch of photos with the tower in the background - each one sillier than the next. For every city we've visited, we find the most iconic landmark and take goofy pictures. They will be a fond memory of this trip, and I already have plans of where to hang these photos in our apartment.
"Let's go shopping," Ali says after a while. "Let's go to Avenue Montaigne!"
"You know we can't afford anything there, right?" I say, feeling the emptiness of my wallet starting to make itself noticed. Avenue Montaigne is the street to visit if you want to shop high fashion.
"I know," Ali says, not letting me damper her spirit, "but we can still try on clothes and pretend we can afford them."
Trying on the latest fashion in Paris, now that's a different story. After all, fashion is my major, and I love everything about clothes. "I'm in!" I say quickly and Ali laughs at my complete turnaround.
"Let's go then!" Rachel says, matching Ali's excitement. I think my makeover opened her eyes to a whole new world.
We pretend to be young, rich Americans (at least we're young and Americans), when we walk from store to store, trying on some ridiculously expensive clothes but pretending to find something wrong with each item. The store personnel are eager to make the sale, and brings us one clothing item after the other to try on. I feel a little guilty, deceiving them like that, but I also get a lot of inspiration for designs I want to create back home.
In one store, I find an empty space to sit on and pull out a sketchpad from my bag. It's a small notebook that I always carry with me because you never know when inspirations strikes. After finding my pencil, I start to draw the outlines of two different designs that won't leave my head. Rachel and Santana are giggling as they've just asked the sales clerk to bring forward some more clothes. Ali is walking around in the store, just absorbing the atmosphere I think.
My hand is moving in quick motions across the paper, when an all too familiar voice is pouring out of the surround system and my heart suddenly stops. Or so it feels.
Blaine's voice. Blaine's perfect voice singing his latest single.
I don't listen to the radio at home anymore just so that I can avoid situations like this. Or I lock myself in my room and deliberately put on the playlist I made with Blaine's songs, but then I'm prepared for what's coming. Now I'm not.
I'm in a much better headspace than I was a year ago, but still his voice affects me every time. It makes all the memories come back. I want to believe that I have moved on, that that part of my life is something I have left in the past. But honestly, I still miss him. I still love him. When I hear his voice, it all comes back and so does the ache in my chest.
The pencil falls out of my hand and I watch as it rolls away from me on the floor, unable to reach out and stop it. All my senses are filled with Blaine's voice. I feel dizzy, my heart starts racing and I feel the blood drain from my face. I need to get out of here. I need to not hear his voice. I can't let anyone see me like this.
Ali is the only one in our group of four who knows that my Blaine is also the now famous singer/songwriter Blaine Anderson who had a hit with his first single and then has built quite an amazing career for himself. Ali also knows that I don't want Rachel or Santana to know. I don't want to talk about him, and I definitely don't want to answer all the inevitable questions that would come if they found out who my Blaine is. Ali doesn't know, however, that I'm still in love with him.
I stand up and rush out of the store. Outside I lean against the nearest wall, close my eyes and focus on breathing. Out here the world is filled with noises - cars sounding, people talking, dogs barking - but still all I hear is Blaine's voice inside my head, his lyrics haunting me.
"What's wrong Kurt? Are you okay?" Ali's worried voice is sounding beside me. I keep my eyes closed. She takes my hand in hers and strokes her thumb across the back of my hand.
"I will be," I answer.
"I heard the song..." Ali says, and I'm guessing she's putting one and one together, coming up with, if not two, then something fairly similar.
"Can we not talk about it now?" I ask, trying to convey with my voice that I am in no shape to do this here and now.
"Okay, but we will talk about it later," she says. Ali is a firm believer in that every problem, every tough situation, must be talked through. It must be ventilated so that one can find a solution and move forward.
I open my eyes and look at her. She's holding my bag and my sketchpad that I, in my haste to get away from his voice, forgot all about and left on the floor.
"Fine," I groan. I don't really want to talk about it, not at all, but I know Ali won't let me get away. For now though I'm just focusing on getting my heartbeat back to normal. And getting that perfect voice out of my head. One would think that after two years I wouldn't be this affected by him, but no matter how hard I've tried to not think about him, I just don't seem to be able to let him go.
I've tried dating, but I always find something wrong with the guys I've gone out with. Rachel and Santana says I'm too picky, that I won't ever find a guy that will live up to my very high standards. But I've already found him, and I compare every guy to him. I know that isn't fair because none of them are Blaine. But that is also the problem, none of them are Blaine. How can I date someone who isn't Blaine? Blaine was perfect for me, and I let him go.
Beautiful Mess became a nationwide hit about six months after I first heard it on the radio. Now everybody wants him, and he's everywhere. That's another thing, with Blaine becoming famous I have to live with the risk of seeing his face on TV, on billboards, on the subway, everywhere. Even if I try to move forward and put what we had behind us, his face is everywhere, haunting me, reminding me of what I let go. How am I supposed to move on when he's everywhere? How am I supposed to forget when I risk seeing those hazel eyes that I used to get lost in, when I least expect it?
It will only get worse the more famous he gets. Because I have no doubt he will become more famous. I have never been unsure of him becoming something great, he's always had the talent to make it.
Then there is social media where it's possible to find pictures and interviews with Blaine almost before they are made. I haven't told anyone, not even Ali, that I have Instagram and Twitter accounts, with no connection to me whatsoever, to follow Blaine. Normally I don't look at them because it's too painful. But some days, when the emptiness in my heart becomes too big, and there's nothing to distract me or keep me from remembering, I log on and update myself with what he's doing. It usually coincides with me locking myself in my room and putting on my Blaine-playlist. I know I shouldn't do it. I know it leaves me feeling hollow and with a longing that makes my chest feel too tight, but sometimes the urge to know is too big.
"Hey, where did you two go?" Santana asks as she and Rachel exit the store.
"Is everything okay?" Rachel asks.
"Yes, everything is fine," Ali says. "Kurt just got a little dizzy and needed some air. I think he needs to eat and drink some water. Dehydration or something like that," she adds, and I'm so, so grateful for the way she protects me because I wouldn't have been able to lie that well if I'd been found out here by myself.
"Okay, let's get Lady Hummel to a cheap restaurant where we can eat without being robbed," Santana says and grabs my arm to lead me away from Avenue Montaigne to a less pricey neighborhood.
After some food, much needed as it turned out for all of us, we continue to walk around the city and visit all the tourist attractions. When the sun sets and darkness falls over the city, we walk up to the Moulin Rouge, because there is no way I'm in Paris without visiting Moulin Rouge.
But my mode has changed and I'm not enjoying it as much as I hoped. Hearing Blaine's voice earlier today made me remember that night on his rooftop when we played my plane-spotting game. I dreamed of being in the City of Love with him. I made up these fantasies of how we would live, and what we would do. Now I'm here, but he's not, and I miss him more than I usually do.
I put on a happy facade to not ruin the experience for the others, and for most part I think I manage quite well. Rachel and Santana doesn't say anything at least, but I know I'm not fooling Ali. She knows me too well, and I know she's only waiting until we're alone before she says anything.
When we're too tired to walk another step, we take the Metro back to our hotel. We say goodnight to Rachel and Santana, who disappear into their room, and then I find myself sitting on a small, hard and very uncomfortable bed next to Ali.
"What happened back there?" She asks. "You looked like you had seen a ghost or something. I thought you were over him."
"I am over him," I say in my most convincing manner.
I don't know why I try to hide the truth from her. She knows me better than anyone else these days, and the look she gives me lets me know that she in no ways believe me. It's just I've been hiding this from everyone for so long, so admitting it to her now, makes me feel ashamed.
"I want to be…" I say. I figured if I pretended to be over him, if I lived as if I were, it would become true.
"But you're not…?" Ali sighs as I shake my head.
"I'm sorry…"
"Hey, you don't need to apologize to me, Kurt. I'm not the one hurting."
"But we made such a big deal about me calling him for the last time last year, and I so wanted to be over him, but I'm just… not."
Ali grabs my chin with her thumb and index finger and tilts my head up, forcing me to look at her. Her eyes are kind but firm. "Have you kept calling him after that time?"
"No, I haven't," I answer truthfully. "But I've wanted to." It's been a lot harder than I thought, giving up on the hope that he misses me too, and that he, one day, would answer one of my calls.
"Why?" Ali asks. "Why do you want to talk to someone who doesn't want to talk to you? Who can't even bother to write you a text to let you know how he's doing?"
"He's not really like that," I hear myself say. "I hurt him, I let him down and I abandoned him."
I abandoned him when he needed me the most. I should have supported him at the beginning of his career. I should have been there when his mother wasn't and when his father suddenly reappeared in his life. I don't know what happened with him and his parents, but I can't help but to feel guilty that I also left him.
"Why are you defending him? So you broke up with him, that happens, doesn't mean he gets to treat you like shit." Ali doesn't get it. She doesn't know Blaine the way I did. She doesn't know how fragile he is under that though facade he puts on.
"Blaine has never treated me like shit," I say and get defensive when she's accusing him like that.
"Stop doing that! Stop defending him! I don't get how you can still love him. He doesn't deserve your love. He hasn't done anything in the past two years to prove he deserves you. All he has done is ignore you."
I feel like I should defend him from her hard words. I'm the one who left him. I'm the one who didn't want to try to make it work. Right now it doesn't matter that he completely shut me out because I feel as if I deserved it.
"Don't you think it's time you realize that it's over, I mean really over?" Ali continues. "You aren't magically going to run into him somewhere and reunite with him and live happily ever after. It's not gonna happen Kurt."
I think it's scary how well she knows me because that is something I'm secretly hoping for from time to time. That I'll run into him on the street or that he'll show up at our apartment, and we'll fall into each other's arms and tell each other 'I still love you', and everything will be alright. But when she says it like that, it does sound more like a fairytale than real life. I guess it's the romantic in me that's still hoping.
"I know…" I groan. "Rationally, I know that, but my heart … my heart hasn't gotten the memo yet."
Ali looks at me with pity in her eyes. I know she doesn't agree with me, but she understands. She's not really angry, this is her way of protecting me.
"When will it stop to hurt?" I say and feel myself crumble. I don't often let these feelings surface, not in front of others at least, but today for some reason I don't have the strength to keep up the facade.
"Oh, honey," Ali says and scooches closer to me on the bed. She wraps her arms around me in a tight hug and holds on for a few seconds before she lets me go again. "It will, you just gotta open yourself up to the possibility to love someone else. But right now, you aren't. You're still seeing him as this perfect guy who no one can live up to. If you keep comparing every guy you meet to him, that won't happen. You have to let go, Kurt."
"I know," I say and feel dejected, "but I don't know how to let go. He's all I know, and he was perfect. How do I stop comparing everyone to that? How can I settle for someone who is less than him?"
"You don't have to settle for anything, Kurt, that's the point. I'm sure there are some pretty great guys in New York. You're just not giving them a chance," Ali says firmly, persuasively but then her tone softens as she continues. "I understand that this is difficult, Kurt, I really do. Someone once told me that you don't walk into love, you fall, that's why it's so hard to get out. I guess there's some truth to that. If you want to fall out of love with him, you have to make it happen, because if it hasn't happened on its own after two years…" Ali says leaving the blanks for me to fill in by myself.
Some part of me doesn't ever want to let go of the idea that maybe someday, somewhere, we will reconnect again. Forgetting him feels like betraying us, like giving up on our future together. Another part wants to forget about him because this is making me miserable
But maybe it's time to let go of the fairytale. Maybe it is nothing more than a dream.
"You're right," I admit even if it's hard. Ali has a cunning way of always knowing the right things to say and do.
She's also very good at reading me and can probably sense that I'm feeling miserable. "You know I love you, right? And that I only say these things because I want you to love you as well. I hate seeing you the way you looked in that store when his song came on. We're friends, right? And still I had no idea you were still feeling this way about him."
"Sorry," I say again, feeling that I should apologize for that. For all of it, for keeping her in the dark, and for being unable to let go of the dream of me and Blaine.
Ali offers me a small smile. "I just want you to be happy, Kurt, that's all."
"Thank you," I say and hug her. I want to be happy, and I see now that keeping this dream alive is keeping me from being truly happy.
"Everything will be okay in the end. If it's not okay, it's not the end," Ali says. "That's my favorite John Lennon quote."
I quirk an eyebrow at her. "Since when are you quoting John Lennon? Or anyone for that matter?" But the words still offers me some comfort. If it's not okay, it's not the end. Not the end. Something better will come.
"Oh, I'm full of surprises, honey," Ali says in a playful tone. Then she grabs her shoulder strap bag, and a mischievous smile appears on her lips. "Now you have two choices. Either we can go to bed, or we can share the cheap bottle of red wine that I have in my bag."
She pulls out a bottle from the bag, and I wonder when she had time to buy that without me noticing it. But then again most of the afternoon and evening passed by in a Blaine-induced haze. I suddenly feel very tired. All the emotions of the day have left me drained.
"You know Rachel is going to make us climb the stairs to the Eiffel Tower tomorrow, so even though sharing that bottle with you sounds tempting, I think climbing the Eiffel Tower with a hangover and hearing Rachel's shrill voice complaining about us falling behind, is not something I want to do. Maybe tomorrow?"
"No problem," Ali says. She puts down her bag again and makes for the small bathroom.
"I will think about what you said tonight," I tell her and she turns around, standing in the doorframe she smiles at me. "Thank you for always being honest with me."
"That's what friends do," She says. "Letting you know when you need to snap out of it, even if it hurts to hear the truth." She pauses for a moment before she continues. "You know you can always talk to me, right? Even if I don't agree with your choices, I will always have your back."
"I know," I say and smile at her.
Her words stick with me long after this night in Paris. There won't be a fairytale ending to our story, but that doesn't mean that something better won't come.
Notes:
Next you will (finally) get a chapter from Blaine's POV.