To The Stars- Hevans (Glee) Ch 2: Full Sail Ahead, a glee fanfic

Later that same day he, in the so-called "Millionaire Suite," is in the Empire style, and comprises two bedrooms, a bath, wardrobe room, and a large sitting room. In addition there is a private 50 foot promenade deck outside.

A room service waiter pours champagne into a tulip glass of orange juice and hands the Bucks Fizz to myself. I was searching for my piano music I have packed with me. It is something I've been accustomed to is, but was unable to learn due my family thinking it is not a "suitable" thing for myself to pursue. Singing, dancing and making music is complete nonsense to them.

I loved the beautiful grand piano that came with the room. A shiny one with keys as fresh as freshly picked apples. I set my sheet music down on the table.

I see Sebastian out on the covered deck, which has potted trees and vines on trellises. He has a cup of tea in his hands as he speaks to me through the doorway.

"I see you got your sheet music. You know we have people for that. Their in the dining hall now." He smirked as he took a sip of Tea and walked past the doorway.

"I've been meaning to learn... But I know my dad wouldn't of approve." I stated simply. Eyeing the keyboard with amazing perception.

"Ha! I wouldn't either! Mainly because I'll be jealous! Learning this takes skills and patience! Two things I really don't have!" He chuckled as he sat down beside me on the bench. I held back a laugh, but smiled willingly.

Sebastian is much like me in a way. Posed but sassy and inpatient. He doesn't care for the rich people life much like myself, but he fits in much better than I do. I, on the other hand, stick out like a sore thumb.

"What's the name of this piece?" Sebastian asked as he took the page from me and read the top engraving.

"Don Giovanni,' by 'Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart," He read with quite a bit of struggle.

He scoffed playfully and tossed the papers back to me before standing up.

"Seems lame! I don't understand sheet music! It's just a bunch of symbols." He took another sip of tea. I looked up at his through my long eyelashes and straightened up.

"You're wrong. It may be difficult but you must look at this a different way. I want to be able to learn the way around this." I spoke. Mainly to myself. I saw Sebastian finish his tea and place it on the side self with a small clack.

"You do you." He muttered as he cleared his throat. "He'll never amount to a thing, trust me. At least they were cheap." He smirked at me and faced a young man servant, going through his wardrobe.

"Hey! Back away from my clothes, Mister! I'll have you thrown overboard!" He yelled as he pointed to to the now frightened man.

I turned back ahead and let out a soft giggle.

"Oh! So you do laugh!" I turned around and saw the famous, Quinn Fabray, in the flesh. My giggle soon disappear, as well as my smile.

"Aren't you ever so excited to arrive at Philadelphia? I heard so many great things! I've never been to America before! Have you?" She smiled brightly as he held onto my inner arm, tightly.

"I haven't either. My father has. He says it wonderful." I stated simply.

"Oh! I just know it will be wonderful! With me as your wife!" She said, lightly.

There it was...

Cringe..

I gave her a side look and smiled slightly. She kissed my cheek and went off her way pass the next corridor.

In the dusk, Titanic stands silhouetted against a purple post-sunset sky. She is lit up like a floating palace, and her thousand portholes reflect in the calm harbor waters. The 150 foot tender Nomadic lies-to alongside, looking like a rowboat. The lights of a Cherbourg harbor complete the postcard image.

Still on the first class deck, In the reception room from the tender are a number of prominent passengers. A slim, Latina women with an enormous feathered hat comes up the gangway, carrying a suitcase in each hand, a spindly porter running to catch up with her to take the bags.

"Well, I wasn't about to wait all day for you, Scrawny; Take 'em the rest of the way if you think you can manage." She spoke as she held out her large suitcases and the small worker almost dropped it on the floor. The small Latina was mighty strong and brutal.

At Cherbourg, a woman came aboard named Santana Diabla Lopez, but we just called her Santana. She was fairly young. Maybe just a few years older than me, but was forced to marry young. Her husband had struck gold someplace out west, and she was what my side of the family called "new money."

She also doesn't fit in as well as it do. She's very snarky and and brutally honest. She's also one of the only Latina females in first class.

At the age of 20, Santana Lopez is a tough talking straight shooter who dresses in the finery of her genteel peers but will never be one of them.

By the next afternoon, everyone had made the final stop and we were steaming west from the coast of Ireland, with nothing out ahead of us but ocean...

Titanic was officially setting sail. Nothing could stop them now!

Sam and Mike made it to the front of the ship! The beautiful engine blowed.

They leaned far over, looking down.

In the glassy bow-wave two dolphins appear, under the water, running fast just in front of the steel blade of the prow. They do it for the sheer joy and exultation of motion. Sam watches the dolphins and grins. They breach, jumping clear of the water and then dive back, crisscrossing in front of the bow, dancing ahead of the juggernaut.

Mike looks forward across the Atlantic, staring into the sun sparkles.

"Imagine seeing the statue of liberty in person! It will be incredible, man!" Mike exclaimed with joy.

the ships rolls endlessly forward underneath. Over the bridge wing, along the boat deck until her funnels are seen besides them and march past like the pillars of heaven, one by one. They looked down the funnels, and the people strolling on the decks and standing at the rail become antlike.

"Who knows, Mike! Maybe I'll finally be able to play my music for musicals. Heard they are very popular there! What is that called?" Sam stopped to think.

"Broadway!" Mike came to a realization.

"That's it! I can see it now! Sam Evans! Written in large letters! I'll make it in this town! Watch out, American! Here comes Samuel Evans!"

We enter the "Palm castle," the name of the most prestigious eating establishment in the whole ship.

I have Finn and Rachel on my side. Arms linked. In Front of me is my father and stepmother, standing straight with arms linked as well. I was, of course next to Quinn, herself squeezing her arms in between mine. I sighed heavily but continued to let it happen.

I started to feel a bit nauseous for whatever reason. Maybe the waves crashing outside and the insane temperature in here.

I've been having trouble breathing a lot lately. Might be your general anxiety, but my father doesn't believe in such "nonsense," mental illness can always he fixed with a little extra money.

The feeling in my chest became rather heavy and I felt lightheaded. I just want to get to our table and sit down without greeting a bunch of people on the way there.

I saw a certain Latina women scootch on next to me and Quinn.

"Hey there, kiddo! The names Santana Lopez! What's yours?" She said rather quickly with her hand held out.

I looked down at the smaller women and took in her appearance. I've definitely heard of her. She is first class, yes; but not that liked around here. She's a very beautiful women with hair pinned up in a loose bun and her ballgown was light purple and white fingerless gloves. She was lacking a enormous feathered hat like most first class women wear. Also, her shoes are much smaller and not as high as some of the others, making her look even smaller in comparison.

I finally extended my hand and took hers like I've been taught how to do as a young boy. Shake the women fingers lightly and slowly kiss their knuckles like such, as I just did.

"Oh! There's no need to for, though I'm flattered!" She giggled as she touched her chest.

"I'm Kurt Hummel! Heir of the Hummel's fortune." I smiled and she did to.

"And whose this chick?" She asked, gesturing towards Quinn, in a way that almost made me laugh.

Quinn's face was absolutely priceless. She looked bewildered at the latina women's language. Quinn slightly gasped and touched her chest, like lots of pristine women do.

From the very start, Quinn has been giving Santana a sour look.

"I'm Quinn Fabray! Heir of the--"

"Fabray Fortune! Yeah, we get it! I feel like that's everybody's label around here!" Santana replied with a smirk.

I couldn't contain myself and let out a little chuckle. Making Quinn give me a hard scowl. I cleared my throat and carried on.

Oh, I like this women...

I saw my father gesture over to me and Quinn to sit down at the table. So we did as we were told. Quinn, trying to go as far away as possible from Santana.

As we took out seats, a very slim, tall and slightly older man, probably around the age of 65, stood in front of the table. His name was Micky Burton

"... and our master shipbuilder, Mr. Wilson here, designed her from the keel plates up." Burton spoken.

He indicates a handsome 39 year old Irish gentlemen to his right, Theodore Wilson, of Harland and Wolff Shipbuilders.

The group assembled for lunch the next day. Burton seated with Quinn, Santana, Theodore Wilson, and myself in the Palm Court, a beautiful sunny spot enclosed by high arched windows.

From the look of Mr. Wilson's eyes, he is disliking the attention he was getting. It was written all over his face, but alas, feeling doesn't matter in first class...

"Well, I may have knocked her together, but the idea was Mr. Burton. He envisioned a steamer so grand in scale, and so luxurious in its appointments, that its supremacy would never be challenged. And here she is..." He exclaimed with a huge grin, and slapped the table.

"willed into solid reality."

"I have a question!" Santana stood up. This ought to be good.

"Why are ships always called "she," is that a crack at our weight?" She asked with a oblivious shrug. Some people scowling at her, while others are laughing along at the women with no filter.

I couldn't hear how everyone was responding to the interaction, because all I heard was buzzing in my ears. My face feeling hot and my legs feeling heavy. The air became rather thick and hot. Making it almost impossible for air to travel into my lungs. I tried my absolute best to hide it, but I couldn't surpass the feeling of different eyes on me.

"Kurt, stop this at once. We are at dinner." I heard my father say. It was a slight, fuzzy murmur from my ears.

"Don't worry, he knows." I heard Quinn say. She squeezed my arm impossibly hard to get me to stop, as if it was my choice. I coughed and my eyes started to welb up. This is a feeling I've never felt before. It was more painful then the pain I usually feel, and my obnoxious family isn't helping at all.

"Kurt, you're embarrassing us! Go outside, and come back in when you're ready to behave." My father said.

"I'm being treated as a child in front of everyone for something I can't control. This is my life.

"Excuse me!" I squeezed out of me.

I got up and hurried out of the room. I held my chest and squeezed me eyes tightly. I couldn't just stand there. I know my father told me when I was ready to "act my age," I can come back in. But I can't. I can't go back in there!

So I ran

I ran back to my room. The room I am forced to share with Quinn.

As soon as I stepped in the room, I got an instance chill. The bad kind of chill people only talk about in horror movies.

It was also quiet

Too quiet

I've never heard it this quiet in years.

But I'm about to ruin that.

I gripped my hair tightly and screamed! I screamed so loud, I'm surprised people didn't call the 'on ship' police right away.

I was completely out of breath by the end. My face was heated now, I looked in the mirror and saw my reflection. Messy hair, sweaty, red face, rather on the skinny side with slightly baggy clothes.

I ripped my blazer off, quickly and sternly. I struggled to undo my tie! It was choking me and making me gasp for air. I let out another shriek trying to take it off!

Once it was off my neck and fell to the floor, I slammed my arm across the center table, and threw everything onto the floor. Smashing the mirror in the process.

I was so frantic, that I fell to the floor, slicing my head against the side of the table in the process. I got up slowly and patted my head. Only to find a little red smudge on my fingers. I groaned in annoyance and pain.

I sighed deeply and left the room like nothing happened. I saw a few first class people looking at me strangely. Maybe it's because my hair was a wreck, my face was red and blotchy, and I was basically half dressed.