A/N: Hello, hello, hello! It's so good to "see" all of you again! As you can probably tell by the title, we're returning to Cassville! But I wanted to say a few things first:
1. I have to apologize for my long absence from fanfic. I briefly ventured over to AO3 and, for the first time ever, wrote some stories for a different fandom, (Schitt's Creek, Patrick/David? If you're interested, go check it out. I'm KB_Ellen there). But since then, I've been really wanting to try my hand at an original story…and it's been tough. I haven't really been writing much at all BUT I refused to not provide ya'll with some Christmas in Cassville.
2. I don't want to promise you a new Klaine fic anytime soon, but I also want you to know that I am a firm believer of never say never. I do have an idea…pretty much in it's infancy…but it's a long journey between idea and penning a 20 chapter fic so if it comes, it will be a minute.
3. This will have 3 parts. Part 1 (today): What could have been. Part 2 (Wednesday): What was. Part 3 (Friday): What will be.
OKAY, I think I've talked enough but it's been awhile and I wanted to catch up. Welcome back to Cassville. Enjoy!
Disclaimer: I do not own Glee
What Could Have Been…
Kurt was awoken by the sound of a siren blasting through his window. The sharp sound cut through the cold air like a knife, waking him harshly from a dream of tall grass and bare feet. Summer sun and chocolate curls. He took a deep breath, banishing the memories of an already fading dream and squeezed his eyes tight. He couldn't help dreaming about it but he couldn't afford to think about it. Not anymore.
He opened his eyes to the pale light streaming through his old, bent blinds. The light was that of an early New York winter morning. A paleness that was shrill, tinting everything a detached sort of blue. Kurt pulled his blankets tighter around himself as he dreaded the chill lurking right outside of his little blanket cocoon. But eventually the solitary sound of his breathing began to send an ache through his bones and he threw his covers off, hissing as the cold air hit his body. Stupid apartment with not enough heat for every unit. One would think astronomical rent would ensure the basics; like heat and water, but apparently that was a pipe dream that he should have accepted many years ago by now.
And at one point, he had. This apartment had been a dream come true when he'd first found it. A little run down and drab but nothing a good coat of paint couldn't fix. He was Kurt Hummel, after all. He'd never met an interior design project he hadn't been able to conquer. After all, this was a real New York apartment. He'd made it. He'd arrived.
But that was so many years ago now. That was before. Before last summer.
Now, the bed was just lonely and cold. The groaning pipes and creaking floors gave him a headache. He felt older each day and what he'd once found charming was now just annoying.
Kurt pulled his comforter off of his bed and wrapped it around himself like a cape. He padded lightly out to the kitchen, starting a pot of coffee and impatiently waiting for it's warmth to brew.
He pulled his phone off the charger and checked his messages. The customary "Merry Christmas!" messages from casual acquaintances peppered his folder. Nothing from his Dad and Carole, but that wasn't surprising. They weren't really ones for texting but he could be expecting a phone call any moment now. Darla, usually not one for texting either had still given it the good old college try in a message rife with typos. It made him smile even as his heart twisted. A message from Bev - "Merry Christmas sugar, we miss you down here!" - a message from Linda - "Hoping that sweater I made you has come in handy all the way up there. Merry Christmas, Kurt." - he had to put his phone down. He didn't want to cry first thing on Christmas morning. That was just a level of pitiful he wasn't ready to accept yet. Plus, he knew there wouldn't be a message from the one person who's tanned hand he'd held in his dream.
Kurt poured himself a cup of coffee and put the morning news on, just as something to hold the silence of the apartment at bay. He curled up on the slightly too small couch and wrapped his comforter more tightly around him and cradled his mug of coffee like a precious jewel. He took tentative sips and breathed deep. It would be okay. He would make it through the day. After all, Christmas or not, it was still just a day and he had made it through a shocking number of those so far. Approximately 142 or something, but hey, who was counting?
Kurt made it through two cups of coffee before the morning news began to sound like a nagging spiral of doom and he had to shut it off, as was customary. Also customary these days, was the crushing need to escape his empty apartment. Dreading the cold, Kurt bundled up in a thin turtleneck, a chunky sweater layered over top. He hesitated, looking into his tiny closet, eyes glued on a sweater. It was pushed to the extreme right of his rack, hiding in the corner where it was only visible when Kurt wanted it to be. The gorgeous lush red of Linda's sweater beckoned to him but hidden right behind that was Kurt's little secret. A dull green sweatshirt that he would never be caught dead in. A threadbare, ratty thing that had some sort of grease stain on the cuff of the left wrist. He gently pulled it off it's hanger and slowly pulled it to himself. He bundled it up and brought it to his nose. Closed his eyes. And inhaled.
He drifted seamlessly to a humid loft. The smell of wood shavings and lumbar. Coffee brewing in the background. The sound of the shower running not too far from the bed that smelled like sweat and grass and late night wine.
He inhaled again and heard a gentle humming coming from that shower. A little song, probably made up but beautiful. Low and even and steady and the embodiment of forever.
He inhaled one last time, the scent much fainter than when he first snagged it from the dresser. Looking over his shoulder to make sure the shower was still running and the door was still closed and the man inside was still humming.
Kurt opened his eyes. And exhaled.
He slid the sweater back on it's hanger carefully and stored it back in the corner of his closet until his next moment of weakness. One day soon, the sweater would smell like the rest of his clothes - clean and meaningless - but he didn't want to think about that because today was already hard enough.
He had just stepped out of his apartment, locking his door and trudging down flight after flight of stairs when his phone rang loudly in his pocket. His heart skipped and he pulled it free as fast as possible. His bubble popped a little when he saw his Dad on the caller I.D. but he still felt a little lighter. A little something like happy.
He raised his face out of his pile of scarf and brought the phone to his mouth. "Hi Dad! Merry Christmas!"
"Hey there kiddo, Merry Christmas! How's your morning been?"
"Great!" Kurt lied, "Slept in, had some coffee, watched some news. Pretty low key. I actually just stepped out to grab some breakfast."
"Kiddo, it's Christmas. Is anything gonna be open?" Burt asked and Kurt couldn't help the little smile that came to his face.
"Dad, it's New York City. Christmas or not, something is always open." His dad's gruff chuckle sent an ache through him. "I miss you guys." He hated the way his voice came out, soft and sad.
"We miss you too kiddo. Shame you couldn't make it down this year."
"Yeah, maybe next year." Kurt said, wishing intensely for this to be true.
"I'll hold you to it," Burt said. He paused, but when he spoke again, it was with that all knowing tone that only parents could have. "Are you going to call him today?"
Kurt gasped, a little shocked that his dad would just ask him like that. The unspoken agreement with every single person was that they were not to speak of him. Not to speak of any specifics of his summer in Cassville. It just hurt too much. It was too fresh. "I-I mean…I don't know, I mean…" Kurt sighed, feeling an exhaustion spread through him like a wave only hours after he'd woken up. "No dad. I'm not going to call him."
"I bet he'd love to hear from you," Burt pressed gently, his voice nothing but kind. "I know you'd like it to."
"Yeah, I would but…that's why I can't." Kurt said. "It's just too much, ya know?"
Burt huffed lightly on his side of the phone and Kurt could almost see him shaking his head in a resigned way. "Yeah, I know. Sorry for bringing it up. I just love you Kurt. And I want you to be happy."
Kurt thought about saying he was happy, but he was pretty sure his dad would see straight through that so instead he just said, "I know. Thank you dad. I love you too."
They chatted lightly for the next few minutes, getting a few minutes with Carole in too before Kurt got to his bagel spot and wished them a Merry Christmas, hanging up to order his usual.
He got his order to go because just the thought of sitting still drove him crazy. He kept a brisk pace while halfheartedly munching on his bagel and taking long draws from his coffee. The steam from the cup caused his freezing nose to drip.
He walked in long circles until he couldn't feel his toes and his coffee had gone cold. He trudged back to his apartment, dreading the walk the whole way home. He tried to focus on the enchanting scenery: window displays of pure joy, twinkling lights and the steam rising from subway grates in the sidewalk. The way the entire city was consumed in artificial cheer and good will. Where once it had filled him up, widening his smile until he felt it would snap in half, now it just glanced off him, a pale comparison to what he'd felt before.
He checked his phone for what must have been the 7th time in the past hour. He didn't want to admit it but he was hoping for that one name to flash on his screen. A call. A text. A fucking facebook message. Just…something.
They had tried, when Kurt had first moved back to the city. It was late summer but in New York it already felt like fall was knocking. There had been phone calls that always ended in longing that couldn't be fulfilled. Their friendship was real and strong but it had changed into this thing that could no longer be extracted from their feelings. Their love. That thing that they had never said out loud but that rang through every word.
It hurt.
It hurt like hell.
Kurt could feel his heart breaking every time he answered his phone and heard that soft, honeyed voice.
And Kurt could hear the strain in that honeyed voice as it crystallized into something hard and barely contained.
They couldn't do this. And as much as that terrified Kurt, he'd always known that it wouldn't work. What they were was more than just friends and you just couldn't go back. And in some small way, he felt relieved that he wouldn't have to lie anymore.
No more holding back.
Only letting go.
Although it was never discussed, the phone calls got shorter and shorter until they stopped all together.
Eventually the texts became closed questions and one word answers. And then ceased.
And it became very silent in Kurt's life.
And he realized that technically, things were exactly how they'd been before, and he'd been happy back then. So there must be a way to be happy again.
He tried hanging out with fellow dancers, going out to bars and dance clubs. He made it a ritual to have weekly calls with his dad and Carole. He downloaded a dating app and deleted it almost immediately, his heart racing with fear.
But the happiness just didn't come. He had moments of enjoyment but they were flat and lifeless. So shallow that they only lapped up around his ankles. Nothing consumed him like the fire he'd felt that summer.
Kurt reached his apartment and he climbed the stairs slowly, feeling the void of his apartment waiting to drain him. He unlocked the door and walked in. Everything as he'd left it. Nothing changed, nothing new.
He kept his puffer coat on and his scarf wrapped around his neck, burning his nose deeper into the folds. He pulled his phone out of his pocket with icy hands. Whether the shaking was from the cold or the contact he was dialing, he couldn't tell.
Ring…
He was so weak.
Ring…
He shouldn't be doing this.
Ring…
But it was Christmas
Ring…
Please pick up.
Ring…
Don't pick up.
Ring…
Pick up
Ring…
Don't pi-
"Hummel?" the voice was breathless, but it was still rich and low and felt like touching the earth for the first time in months.
"H-Hi," Kurt said, feeling out of breath himself. "Merry Christmas."
It was silent for a long moment. Kurt counted his own breaths as they warmed his nose in his little pocket of scarf. One, two, three, four, five…"Blaine?"
A hefty exhale sounded from the other side of the line. It shuddered slightly and Kurt wondered if the sound of his name on his tongue had the same effect on Blaine as it did on him. "Merry Christmas, Hummel."
He did not say I miss you.
He did not say I love you.
He did not say a lot of things.
He said, "I just wanted to hear your voice."
A/N: Don't worry, the rest of the story is much less depressing lol. I'll see you guys on Wednesday for Part 2: What was…