Chapter warnings for: a lot of angst (if you're not up to reading that right now, I suggest waiting at least until the next two chapters have been published), very brief mention of domestic abuse.
"Where in the bloody hell have you been?"
Kurt barely manages to suppress a scream when the disembodied question drifts out of the dark, startling him the very moment he enters his bedroom.
His gaze has long adjusted to the darkness while he was lying next to Sebastian, wide awake and watching the candles in the bedroom slowly burn down. There was not difficulty in noiselessly gliding out of the bed to find and put on his clothes as the darkness began to lighten slowly in earliest hours of the morning. He found his way through the corridor and up the stairs effortlessly, even in the darkness, and now, it doesn't take him more than a moment to make out the human silhouette sitting on his bed.
"Nick," he hisses, his heartbeat rapidly pounding in his ears as he quietly closes the door behind him. "Don't do that. You scared me."
"Oh," Nick replies and there's an edge to his voice when he continues, "I scared you? I'm ever so sorry, Kurt. Truly, I cannot even begin to imagine how that would feel."
It's impossible to make out Nick's expression in the lingering hazy dark grey of the morning, but Kurt sighs when he hears the sarcasm dripping from Nick's voice, "Look, if this is about today, I'm…"
"If this is about today?" Nick interrupts and suddenly, Kurt understands that the edge to Nick's voice is barely suppressed fury. "You vanished this afternoon, to the 'dressmaker'. Nobody knew where exactly you had gone. And when I started to worry and went up to my room, I found that you had left me this…" Kurt hears the sound of paper being crinkled in a strong fist, "…cryptic note without any explanation, telling me 'not to worry'." Nick doesn't bother to hide his anger now, but his voice is still low enough not to carry outside the room when he continues, "I had no idea where you were or what had happened, and I had to calm Jane, who was out of her mind with worry and keep her from going to the dressmaker to look for you. Which was the sensible thing to do and what I would have wanted to do myself, yet I had to convince her that all was well because I didn't know where you were and if searching for you meant creating more or less danger for you. So I repeat: where in the bloody hell have you been?"
Kurt feels small, small and ashamed when he replies, "I was at the opera with Sebastian."
There's a long moment of silence which hangs heavy between them. Then Nick whispers, "What?"
"I was at the opera," Kurt repeats, and his hands come up to hold onto his elbows as he crosses his arms in front of his chest. "With Sebastian. He bought me evening clothes as a birthday present, and we thought if I dressed up and disguised myself no one would notice I wasn't… And no one did, not really, I mean, it worked, and we got home safely, so…"
His voice trails off and he hates it, hates that he now has to look at what previously were the memories of a perfect day and has to reassess them with Nick's silence, which is only broken when Nick says, "Please tell me you're joking. Please tell me that you have not been this stupid."
His words feel like a blow to Kurt's chest. "Nick…" he begins.
"You went out with Sebastian, in public, to the opera, when you know there's dozens of people there who might recognise you?" Nick asks, his voice now wavering between barely concealed anger and utter disbelief. "When just in a few days, this house will be flooded with people who might take a second look at you and wonder where they have seen that face before?"
"Nick, I know it was risky," Kurt tries to admonish, "But…"
"But what, Kurt? I feared that Sebastian could potentially fall back into his old reckless behaviour, but I do not understand what in the world made you do something so utterly –"
"Because I wanted to be there with him," Kurt interrupts. He feels ashamed and helpless, but there is something close to defiance in his voice when he tries to explain himself to Nick as best he can: "These last weeks… I feel that somehow there's more distance between us, even though we're closer than ever. And there's nothing I can do about it. And this was a chance to stand next to him without having to pretend, for once."
"Kurt," Nick says and he sounds like he's trying very hard to sound patient, "I know this is hard. I told you it would be from the very beginning –"
And suddenly, Kurt can't listen to this any longer. "Yes, you told me, congratulations Nick, you knew best once again," Kurt snaps. He hasn't realised how long he has kept these words inside until they come tumbling out in the harshest way possible. "But what you don't know is that it's actually impossible to anticipate how hard this would be. What you don't know is that it is painful to wait and hope and pray to catch just two minutes alone with the man you… What you don't know is how happy I was today, being there, with Sebastian, and not having to hold back for once. And do you know why you don't know that, Nick? Because you have never taken a risk in your life. Because all you do is hide."
"Kurt, this conversation is about the monumentally stupid decision you and Sebastian made today. It is not about me," Nick hisses and maybe this should have stopped Kurt, but it doesn't, because he barrels on, "Why did you never tell Jeff how you felt? He loved you Nick. I don't know how he loved you, I don't know if it could have ever become what you hoped for but you didn't even try."
"Don't," Nick says, a warning in his voice, "Don't you dare to bring Jeff into this."
"You didn't even give him or yourself a chance," Kurt says, ignoring Nick's words. "You decided for both of you that you wouldn't even try, and now you shut him out of your life completely and don't even write to him anymore, because you are too scared to be hurt, even when there are people offering to love you. And you know what, that is your decision! If you want to live your life that way, fine, but I can't, and that is my decision to make. I have to take a risk, heavens, I have taken so, so many risks with Sebastian and you know what? It's hard, but it's also beautiful, and he makes me happy. And today was foolish and reckless, yes, maybe, but it was worth it, and I won't let you destroy it."
The silence that follows is thick enough to be cut with knife. There is no sound from the corridor despite their barely suppressed, angry voices, no noise other than Kurt's heavy breathing.
Suddenly, Nick stands up. Without a word he moves towards Kurt and shoves him out of his way, not hard enough to hurt him but not gently either, and before Kurt has regained his balance Nick is gone, the sound of the door closing a little too loudly behind him.
Kurt is left alone in the darkness, alone with the silence and his own, racing thoughts.
When Kurt goes downstairs to breakfast the next morning after a few restless hours, Jane informs him that Nick has already gone up to Sebastian's bedroom, to "discuss some issues about the ball". It doesn't bother him, not per se – the fight between Nick and him is one thing, but even though he is still seething with directionless anger, he accepts that Sebastian and Nick have to sort this out between themselves.
What does bother him is that when he talks to Sebastian later that day before dinner, Sebastian is the picture of a bad conscience.
"I apologised," Sebastian explains when Kurt hands him a shirt. "Nick was really upset, and god, I should have known this would happen. I feel so fucking awful. He told me he talked to you already, but he wouldn't say…"
"I didn't apologise," Kurt says, staring at Sebastian while grappling with the burning feeling in his chest that feels a lot like betrayal. Sebastian blinks at him, "Why not?"
"We… talked," Kurt says, crossing his arms in front of his chest. "He said… some things. I said some things. It didn't end well."
Sebastian is looking at him, his expression confused and a little bit apprehensive. "So you… you mean you fought?" he asks.
"I assume we did," Kurt replies and thinks of the way Nick and he have avoided looking at each other all day. "It appears we're currently not speaking to each other." Saying those words out loud sends a new wave of hurt crashing over Kurt, and he realises that he has never been in a fight with Nick like this before. Nick has always, always been there for him, and now… but before the wave can pull him along there's another, stubborn thought digging in its heels and refusing to budge, a thought that whispers "Nothing I said was wrong."
Sebastian is still looking at him in a pleading sort of way, unaware of Kurt's inner turmoil. "But… you will talk to him again, right? To sort this out?"
"I don't know," Kurt replies, and at that, Sebastian looks a lot more apprehensive than before.
"Whatever he said to you, Kurt, he is right. We have been pretty careless, and we should have told him where we –"
"Do you regret it?" Kurt asks, and his voice sounds harsh, even to his own ears. "Taking me with you?"
Sebastian frowns. "Of course not. I regret not telling Nick about it, even if he would have tried to stop us. That wasn't fair of us."
What Sebastian says is reasonable. It's sensible, and gentle, understanding and mature, and Kurt finds he hates all of it. He doesn't understand why he's feeling the way he's feeling – prickly and itching with some deep dissatisfaction and why why why isn't Sebastian on his side in this?
"Kurt," Sebastian says, his voice soft. "Nick is really hurt. The fact that we didn't trust him enough to tell him… it's not your fault, it's mine. I should have known better. I never should have done that – he was so worried about you. He didn't know if you were with me or if he should go and look for you or wait, or try to tell me that something had happened…"
And suddenly, Kurt can't bear to listen to this one moment longer. He blindly pulls a waistcoat and a tailcoat out of the closet and shoves them into Sebastian's hands.
"I'll see you at dinner," he says brusquely, turns around and leaves so quickly that he only hears a startled, "Kurt, wait…" before the door falls shut behind him. He hurries down the corridor until he is safely hidden away in the servants' staircase, where he stares at the wall for a good solid ten minutes, feeling numb and hurt and awful.
Kurt spends the rest of this day doing what he has never done before – hiding from his responsibilities. He can't escape his serving duty at dinner, but Nick is still avoiding his gaze and luckily, Lady Smythe has invited the Milton family, and their conversation keeps Sebastian, clad in a mismatched brown waistcoat and black tailcoat, occupied, so he doesn't have the opportunity to send more than a few hurt glances Kurt's way. Kurt tries to ignore how each of them feels like a knife to his stomach.
When the Miltons have left and everyone has retreated to their bedrooms, Kurt doesn't return to his room. Neither does he go up to Sebastian's bedroom, though he knows the other man is waiting for him. Instead, he walks out in front of the house and leans against the stone wall surrounding Minerva House on three sides. The evening is still warm and the rose bushes shield him from both the house and the view from Green Park. Kurt lets himself slide down until he sits on the grass and weed, for once not caring about the stains it'll leave on his trousers. He buries his face in his arms, thinking of everything and trying to think of nothing, and finally lets the tears which have been burning behind his eyelids for hours fall freely.
He doesn't spend too much time in solitude, however. The moon has barely made any progress on its way across the night sky when soft footsteps announce the arrival of another person.
"I thought I saw you vanish into the gardens," Jane says, holding the dark folds of her skirt in front of her so that the fabric doesn't get caught in the thorny bushes. "Shouldn't you be helping his lordship?"
"Nick can do that tonight," Kurt says. He keeps his face turned away from Jane and wipes his cheeks against his sleeves in what he hopes is a discreet gesture.
"Alright, this stops right now," Jane says and leans against the wall next to him. "You and Nick have been acting strangely all day. Did you fight?"
"What makes you ask that?" he tries to deflect, but Jane just scoffs. "Oh please. There are two men walking around this house looking like misery personified and you expect me not to notice?"
"I do not look like misery personified," Kurt protests, because even though he knows that to be a lie, he trusts the darkness to hide most of the damage.
"I wasn't talking about you," Jane replies. "But whatever you said to poor Nick must have been harsh. He's usually not showing when he's hurt but even I can tell he's not too well."
"What I sai- did it occur to you that I might be the wronged one here?" Kurt snaps.
Jane just looks at him, her expression patient. "Are you?" she asks.
Kurt opens his mouth for a heartfelt rant about how he is very much in the right, thank you, but then he looks at Jane, whose gaze is kind but earnest, and suddenly, he falters. "I don't know," he murmurs.
"Would you like to tell me about it?" Jane asks. Kurt hesitates, because the honest answer is yes. He wants to tell Jane everything, has wanted to do that for so long. But –
"I'm not sure I can," he replies. Jane sighs deeply. "Of course not," she says, her expression still kind when she asks, "Don't you sometimes feel stifled under the weight of all the secrets you have to carry around with you?"
"Every day," Kurt replies honestly. "But there are not my secrets. Not all of them, at least."
He lets his head fall back onto his knees with a soft groan. He feels the his eyelashes brush against the fabric of his trousers when he is still for a long moment, before he whispers softly, "I don't know why I'm being like this, Jane."
There's a soft rustling as Jane drops down on the packed dirt next to him, her skirts brushing against Kurt's bare arms.
"I know you say you can't talk about it," she says. "But can you describe how you feel about it?"
Kurt considers this for a moment. "I… it's just so much, right now. All at once. I'm so ridiculously happy here, but I'm also really… frustrated, because there's so much I can't do, even if I wanted to. And I already have so much, more than I could have hoped for, but I still want more, and that's ridiculous because the world is what it is and it won't change for me and…" He takes a deep breath. "I'm sorry. That doesn't make sense."
"No, actually," Jane replies slowly, "Actually, I think it might."
For the first time Kurt turns his head to really look at Jane, who has lifted her chin and is staring up into the night sky.
"It was never my dream to go into service," she says. "When I was four, I wanted to be a singer. I thought I'd become a huge sensation, travelling from stage to stage, my picture in all the magazines, becoming rich before I met a nice man to marry and settle down. I told my mother about it one day, proudly and confident in my plan for the future. She laughed at me. It was a great amusement, not just to her and the rest of the family – the story quickly made its way through the quarter, and to this day the butcher next door always greets me with, 'Ah, Miss Jane, how's the singing career coming along?'."
She sighs, "I started working as a kitchen maid when I was eleven. I always liked the work. I was lucky with my employers, most of the time. Then I grew older, and I read all these stories of romance and dashing heroes and – I wanted that. I wanted to meet a nice boy, to be swept off my feet, to be married. I've always wanted a family, Kurt – a nice little house somewhere, in the city or the countryside. Children running around, a man I could rely on, both of us making enough money to have some security." She sighs, "And then I got older. I met boys. I saw my sister fall passionately in love, saw my friends marry. And some of them are happy. Few though. My best friend – her husband is a gambler. There's never enough money to buy food for everyone, and she lets the children eat first. Her dresses all hang on her body, that's how thin she has become. I try to send her food sometimes – it's no use sending money. My sister's husband cheats on her constantly – she's always pregnant, and he's never there, has never even so much as glanced at the babies from what she tells me. One of my former friends has grown to hate her husband after the marriage. They fight constantly, and most times it's her who throws the tableware at him. He has a nasty scar on his face from one of their spats, and I think he's deeply afraid of her."
She takes a deep breath, her fingers twisting the fabric of her white apron. "But I still want it. Becoming a singer… that was a childhood fancy, nothing more. But finding someone to spend your life with isn't, not for me. I want to be happy. I want to be loved. But then I look at the world around me, and I am utterly afraid, because really, what are the chances of happiness, true happiness? You're bound to that one person your whole life in a union sanctioned by God. There's no escape, no way out. And not just for you – your children as well. And to see them suffer…" She bites down on her bottom lip and falls silent.
They share the quiet evening for a few minutes, before Kurt asks softly, "Have you thought of a solution yet?"
Jane sighs. "I think we don't have to stop dreaming, Kurt. But we need to be practical. You won't get everything you want – there will be costs, and there has to be compromise, always, always compromise. And we need to learn how to be happy with that."
She nudges Kurt's shoulder and Kurt has to smile. "Why are you so wise, Jane?" he asks.
"I learned from the best Bailey Hall had to offer," she grins. "Don't forget I knew Nick for three years before you joined the household." Her tone grows serious again. "But speaking of Nick: I don't know what happened between you two, Kurt. But you're such good friends, and I know you love each other dearly. Surely this isn't something to throw that away for?"
And suddenly, Kurt feels silly and ashamed. Not for feeling he way he does – Jane is right, he has to learn how to deal with that, has to learn to trust himself and Sebastian, has to accept the distance that is and will always be between them. But he has done the worst thing he possibly could have done – taking his anger, his frustration, his insecurities out on the two people he loves most in the world.
"No," he says and his voice is firm when he stands up and brushes the dirt off his trousers before he offers Jane his hand. "No, it isn't."
Nick is already asleep when Kurt returns to their corridor, his door locked, and Kurt doesn't dare to tiptoe down to Sebastian's bedroom. He promises himself to fix this, to talk to both of them first thing in the morning – and if he knows he's buying himself some time with that because he is afraid of what their reaction will be – anger? Resentment? Disappointment? – he is fairly successful in pushing the thought aside.
Not that successful, though, because after spending half the night tossing and turning with thoughts about what he'll say to Nick and Sebastian, Kurt does another thing he has never done before: he oversleeps.
"Just be glad it's a slow morning for everyone," Andy says good-naturedly after he has woken Kurt by pulling away his blanket with a cheerful 'It's almost half past six and you're going to be dismissed if you don't get that ass out of bed soon'. "There's no sign from her ladyship or Sir Robert yet, and of course no peep from his lordship either."
Kurt has never washed and dressed himself in such a short amount of time. He even forgoes fixing his hair with the usual attention to detail, merely pushes through with a wet comb once. When he arrives down at the breakfast table Nick is nowhere in sight, and when Mrs Bertram tries to coax him into eating "at least a bit of toast, Kurt", he hastily makes his excuses and retreats, because just looking at food lets him taste bile.
He climbs the stairs slowly this time. There's little chance that Sebastian is already awake, and Kurt doesn't quite know yet whether he plans to wait or wake Sebastian – the only thing he knows is that he can't put this off any longer.
Kurt fully expects Sebastian to be buried beneath his blankets, dead to the world before the first rays of sunlight have reached his windows. But when he enters the room he finds Sebastian wide awake, curled up in the armchair in the far corner of the room, a forgotten candle still burning on the table. His legs are drawn up to his chest as he's staring into the distance, still wearing the awful brown waistcoat from last night, and when Kurt sees the pristine and undisturbed covers on the bed he realises that Sebastian must have had an even worse night than he had.
While the feeling of guilt settles heavily in his stomach, Sebastian turns his head, and he jumps to his feet the moment his gaze meets Kurt's. His expression is as conflicted as Kurt feels, a mixture of hope and apprehension, confusion and hurt.
"Kurt?" he says, his tone tentative, and Kurt takes a deep breath before he closes the door behind him and marches across the room. Sebastian's eyes follow his every movement until Kurt comes to stand before him, still an arm's length away. Kurt's fingers twist into the hem of his sleeves, but he forces himself to meet Sebastian's gaze and to say, slowly and deliberately, "I'm sorry."
Sebastian blinks, but there is still tension in the way he stands, his gaze carefully guarded when he replies, "I didn't… I just don't understand why you were so mad at me, yesterday?"
"I wasn't mad at you," Kurt says, and when Sebastian's eyebrows rise in silent scepticism, he hastily explains, "I wasn't even mad at Nick, I was just…" He tugs at his jacket, straightening it when it doesn't need straightening. He spent all night thinking about what to say, but now, he finds it hard to put his feelings into words. "These past weeks…" he begins, "… have been… I thought about this for so long, Sebastian. Dreamed of you, imagined what it would be like to be with you. And this, this is more than I could have dreamed of. It's… amazing and overwhelming, and I am so, so happy. But it's also really, truly terrifying. Because…" He bites down on his bottom lip, carefully thinking about his next words before he decides they need to be said, "…because I don't think I fully trust this yet." Sebastian immediately looks hurt at this and opens his mouth to say something, but Kurt quickly adds, "I trust you, and I trust me, and I trust our feelings. But the fact that I can't be in the same room with you unless I'm pouring you tea, that I can't meet your eyes or walk next to you on the street…"
"Kurt," Sebastian says, and his gaze is still carefully guarded, but there is an imploring tone to his voice. "You know that doesn't matter to me."
Kurt smiles sadly. "It has mattered to you before," he says softly. "And I'm afraid it matters to me." At this, Sebastian looks taken aback for a second before his expression shifts into something close to panic, so Kurt raises his hand and lets it rest against Sebastian's chest, right where the soft fabric of his shirt meets his warm skin. "Which is why…" he continues, "…I have to learn that it won't mean that it'll come between us at some point. That just because I have to wait until we're alone until I get to touch you doesn't mean that you'll stop wanting to touch me, or that I'll stop wanting to touch you."
There is a quiet fire burning in Sebastian's eyes and Kurt finds himself looking away now, his gaze darting to the floor. Sebastian's feet are bare once again, his toes peeking out from underneath the hem of his trousers.
"That is why our night at the opera was perfect. Everything about it was perfect, even with the risk, even with Ned barging in, and when Nick confronted me about it, I just… I snapped. Of course he was right, but I didn't want to hear it. I couldn't bear to hear that being with you, in a way that I could only ever dream of being with you, just this once – that it was a mistake."
There's a gentle touch on his cheek, Kurt gaze darts up to see that Sebastian has reached out, his left thumb tentatively brushing over Kurt's cheekbones.
"I told you," he says. "I don't regret one moment of it."
"I know," Kurt replies and his throat feels dry. "Neither do I. None of it. And I'm sorry you had to bear the brunt of my frustration when you have been nothing but absolutely wonderful." For a moment, Sebastian just looks at him, his thumb moving over Kurt's skin in a tender caress before he drops his hand. For a split second, Kurt feels cold at the loss of contact, but before any dreadful feeling can settle in his chest Sebastian's arms come up around him, pulling Kurt against his chest. Kurt's fingers twist into Sebastian's shirt as strong arms circle his waist and Sebastian buries his face in the crook of Kurt's neck, raising goose bumps when he says, his lips moving against Kurt's skin, "I was so worried that I had done something wrong."
"You haven't," Kurt says, his voice muffled against Sebastian's shoulder, but he just shuffles closer until his whole body is pressed against Sebastian's. "This time, the blame is on me."
"Just…" Sebastian says and draws in shaky breath. "Just don't… shut me out, Kurt. I know this sounds hypocritical, coming from me, I know, but…"
"No," Kurt interrupts him gently, "No, you're right. I won't." He lifts his head, searching for Sebastian's gaze when he adds, "I told you before: I want you. I want this, I want us, and I want it to last, and in order for it to last, I need to become better at talking to you." He smiles wryly, "We both need to become better at that, I suppose."
"I'll try," Sebastian says, his voice heavy with emotion. "I promise." His hands come up to frame Kurt's cheeks once again, and he hesitates briefly before he asks, "Would it be alright if I kissed you now?"
"Yes, please," Kurt replies, his voice something between a relieved laugh and chocked sob before Sebastian's lips find his. It's different from their previous kisses – it's a strange mixture of hesitance and urgency, a complicated tangle of "I want" and the "What if"s that they are just beginning to figure out. But more than that it is tender, full of affection and relief, and the desire to be as close to the other man as possible.
Kurt is still asking for forgiveness when he licks into Sebastian's mouth, when he grabs onto his shirt to pull him towards the bed with slow, measured steps as their kisses become more frantic and more heated.
Sebastian is more than happy to grant it.
When they enter the dining room an hour later – separately, of course, and through different doors – Kurt is actually a little proud for how respectable they are both looking. Even his hair now looks immaculate after he spent ten minutes in front of Sebastian's mirror fixing it, alternating between laughing at Sebastian's attempts to muss it up again and batting his hands away. And when he watches Sebastian retreat down the corridor, his step light as Kurt turns towards the servants' stairs, Kurt know that in order to stay true to his word, he has to tell Sebastian about the last secret between them.
He has to tell him about Daniel, even if the prospect fills him with dread.
The dining room is alight with sunshine when Kurt discreetly slips through the door. Luckily and due to the still relatively early hour, neither Sir Robert nor Lady Smythe have appeared yet, and Will and Andy are busy handing Sebastian his tea while Sebastian idly sorts through the stack of letters waiting next to his plate. When Kurt sees Nick bent over the side table, setting down a heavy plate loaded with bread rolls and toast, his heart gives a painful lurch. Nick looks tired, with dark circles under his eyes, and the feeling of guilt becomes oppressive when Kurt approaches him.
He steps up next to Nick, and as soon as he does, Nick's shoulders grow rigid with tension, and he swiftly grabs whatever is nearest to him – a plate with crispy bacon and tiny sausages – and is about to retreat. Before he can leave Kurt catches Nick's sleeve, pulling the other man towards him ever so slightly. "Can we talk after breakfast?" he whispers and for the first time since their fight, Nick's gaze meets Kurt's, and Kurt feels awful when he sees the hurt there. "Please, Nick. I need to apologise."
Nick hesitates for a long moment, a moment which feels like aeons to Kurt, before he nods briskly. "I need to sort through the wine cellar," he says, his voice carefully neutral. "You can come with me." His gaze lingers on Kurt's face for just a moment longer, and it is this brief moment of hesitation which gives Kurt hope. He smiles shyly, and is about to whisper a brief 'thank you' when a loud clash sounds behind them.
Nick and Kurt turn around simultaneously to see that Sebastian has knocked over his cup. Brown liquid is seeping into the formerly white tablecloth and dripping down onto Sebastian's knees, but he doesn't even seem to notice.
All colour has drained from his face as he's staring at a piece of paper, the hand holding it shaking ever so slightly.