"So are you still together?"
Kurt sighs, and draws his knees up to his chest. "I don't know," he tells Anna honestly. "I think so, but he's not calling me. It's weird, but I've only just noticed that he's usually the one calling, texting, asking to see me. Now there's nothing."
"You could call him?"
"I did. Three times already today, and it goes to voicemail each time."
Meredith hands him a mug of coffee, settling next to him on the couch. "I'll tell you what I think."
"Really, there's no need."
"I'm telling you anyway," she declares. "You're four days from opening night. Give him a couple of days space, then call him and ask if he'll be there. If he says yes, then ask if you can stay over that night. I think that once the play opens, once he sees you in action, he'll forget all about not wanting you to take the role, you'll stop worrying, and it'll all be okay again."
Kurt gives a tight smile, but shakes his head. "I don't think it will be. I think he'll be even more horrified than he was when I accepted."
"Why?"
"Because the show is really shitty." He takes a deep breath, and then starts to cry. "He was right," he says, his voice shaking with emotion. "It's the most hideous story, I'm positive it's going to offend countless people, and Frank's tried to put this awful comedic spin on it... The songs are lame, I've got no heart for it, and Frank just stares at me the whole damn time. He hasn't said or done anything, but it unsettles me just the same. He made some pointed remark about Blaine only having come to the first rehearsal, and then today he asked if there was trouble in paradise. I feel like he's biding his time. Ugh. God. It's all such a mess."
"Well you can't quit now," Anna helpfully points out. "But you can call Blaine and tell him all of this, and I really think you should."
It's another two days before Blaine picks up his phone though, and when he does, his manner ensures Kurt won't be telling him anything at all. It seems as though his sadness and upset has been replaced by a burning anger, which in turn riles Kurt and makes him lash out.
"I've been working," Blaine snaps when Kurt asks where he's been. "You know, that thing I used to do before I got blinded by you."
"Working so hard you couldn't return my calls?"
"No, I didn't want to return your calls because you're a brat."
"Don't call me that. At least, not when you mean it. You could've called me back."
"I didn't want to."
"Thanks. Are you even going to bother coming to opening night?"
"Someone's got to."
"I don't need you, Blaine, so don't make out like you're indispensable. My dad's flying in, I've got the girls, and Meredith's parents will come, so I've got support. You wanna be there then fine, but don't make the effort on my account because really, I'm not bothered."
But Blaine does show, and arrives at Kurt's dressing room a half hour before curtain, dressed immaculately in a gray suit with a red tie, and holding an enormous bunch of flowers.
He enters without knocking, and Kurt turns away from the mirror, his whole face lighting up. "Blaine!"
Blaine's face drops to find the small room full of people he doesn't know, plus Anna, Meredith, and Frank. "Hey," he says awkwardly. "These are for you. Break a leg."
"Don't go," Kurt calls when Blaine turns his back. "Stay. I want you to meet..."
But Blaine is gone, and Kurt is torn between running after him or sinking down into his chair, which is the option he chooses.
"He hates me."
"He does not," Anna tells him firmly. "He thought you'd be alone, I think, and he was disappointed to see that wasn't the case."
"So that's the old guy, huh?" Kurt's dad asks. "Could he be any colder?"
"Blaine Anderson is a hard, cruel man," Frank says, stepping in. "He certainly doesn't treat Kurt with the respect he deserves."
"Fuck off, Frank," Kurt snarls, and neither his dad nor Meredith's mom reprimand him for his language. "You have no idea about Blaine, none at all. No one here knows how loving and kind he can be. How he makes me laugh, makes me feel so safe, so cared for. No one sees us when we're alone, when he holds me and makes me feel so good about myself. You know what? He's the first guy I've met who likes me exactly as I am, and doesn't want me to change. People think he's this bastard but he's not. Not to me, and he never would be, either."
"I've had enough of this," Meredith declares. "Anna, come with me."
Kurt feels so weary he doesn't even question their leaving, but he does flash Meredith's dad a grateful smile when they leave too, and drag Frank from the room with them.
"You're really wrapped up in him, aren't you?" Burt asks.
"Yes. And I've been a total fool."
"I don't think you can pin it all on yourself; he's not been the most gracious about your decision."
"Not recently, no. But I think he tried to make me see what a big mistake I was making and then his patience ran out. This is when I miss Logan, you know? I could've called him, he would've come over and knocked some sense into me. Everything hurts, dad, and it's my opening night as lead in the most high profile show I've done so far. I should be buzzing, but I'm not. I just want to cry."
"Don't cry."
But the voice doesn't come from his dad. Blaine stands in the doorway, backed by Anna and Meredith, who holds her thumbs up and grins.
"I really don't like it when you cry. You go all blotchy and snotty, and you look about twelve."
"Fuck off," Kurt says, but then he smiles and gets to his feet. "Come meet my dad, Burt. Dad, this is Blaine."
"Nice to meet you," Burt says, offering his hand.
Blaine shakes it, but it's all awkward as hell and he doesn't say a word.
"You uh... You want me to go?" Burt asks Kurt.
"Yes please," Blaine answers, but Burt ignores him and waits for his son to answer.
"Uh yeah, please dad," Kurt says quietly. "I'll see you after the show."
"Okay. Good luck, sunshine." He kisses his son's cheek, glares at Blaine and leaves.
"It's break a leg, if you're doing a show," Blaine mutters.
"He's not used to that," Kurt says. "He thinks that's asking for trouble."
"Ridiculous."
"That's my dad. Don't."
"Fine. Look, those girls said you were upset so..."
"I'm fine."
"Are you feeling nervous?"
"No," Kurt lies. "I'm confident it'll be a success."
"Well I hope so," Blaine says with a smirk. "Because there's a full house, and an awful lot of press."
"Really? Well, I guess they think it'll be good too."
"No, they think an upbeat, lively musical about a racist child killer is something that has to be seen to be believed...and slated in the next day's press."
"Look, if you've only come here to irritate me then please leave. You're making me more and more angry each time I see you."
"I miss you, Kurt."
He shrugs. "You've got a funny way of showing it." But he can't deny that his words flood him with warmth.
"Always," Blaine says quietly, a smile playing on his lips. "You know me."
Kurt nods, then sinks into a chair, holding his head in his hands. "I'm terrified, Blaine," he admits with a sigh. "The show is terrible, Frank is breathing down my neck, I've got four more weeks of this shit and I don't think I can handle it, I really don't."
"Oh hush, you can. Come here, come on."
Pulling Kurt to his feet, he takes him in his arms, holding him tight. "You can do this. You're the strongest person I know. Far stronger than I am, that's for sure."
"I doubt that very much." He hugs Blaine back hard, gripping the back of his jacket tightly. "You always feel so amazing."
"So do you. We fit, don't we, you and I?"
"We really do." He pulls back slightly, nuzzling against his jaw. "God, I've missed you too. So much. You know what would make me feel better?"
"I can't rim you in here. Though I do have my glasses."
"No!" He giggles, happy to see Blaine smiling brightly. "I mean, if that's on offer for later then I'm all for it, but for now a kiss will suffice."
Everything falls into place when Blaine kisses him. He knows he sighs, and he knows his knees sag as he sinks deeper into his embrace, but Blaine holds him strong, safe, secure. Kurt knows he matters, he knows he's exactly where Blaine needs him to be, and that makes him kiss back passionately, his hands moving up instinctively to those curls he's come to love so much.
Kurt's five minute call comes over the intercom but they still don't part; too wrapped up in each other to listen to anything else. In the end it is Frank who throws open the dressing room door, his anger evident.
"No lead waiting in the wings and two minutes to curtain!" he bellows. "I might have known you'd show up again," he snarls at Blaine when they pull apart. "I don't even know how you're here, since I made sure they didn't send any comp tickets to any of your publications."
"I bought my ticket," Blaine says airily. "To support my boyfriend." He turns his back on Frank, lovingly kissing Kurt again. "Break a leg, beautiful. I'll see you after the show."
Feeling better than he has in weeks, Kurt sails past Frank, out of the door and down to the wings, where he waits for the music to start.
The show is not good. In fact, it's so terrible that after intermission, the amount of empty seats is undeniable. Kurt notices this from the wings, and he can sense the animosity from the audience as the show continues. Applause at the end is lukewarm at best, and his spirit crushed, he retreats to his dressing room, closes the door and sinks to the floor.
He knows his dad will be waiting, and Blaine too, but right now he can't face anyone at all. He thinks back to three weeks ago, to the night he had told Blaine he'd taken the part.
"You didn't stop me," he says through a stream of tears when Blaine marches into the dressing room five minutes later.
"Kurt?" Blaine crouches next to him on the floor, tenderly running a hand over his hair.
"You didn't stop me! All this time you've let me carry on making a complete fool of myself and why?"
"What?"
"You knew! You knew how bad it was gonna be, and yet you let me go on!"
"That is bullshit!" Blaine explodes, unaware that Anna, Meredith and Burt have come into the room behind him. He gets to his feet, running a hand through his hair. "I tried so many times, Kurt! I tried pleading with you, begging you...hell, I even demanded it. In the end, I shut up about it because I was so fucking scared I would lose you over it all! And now you're blaming me for the way it's all turned out? Well maybe I should've demanded you quit, maybe I should've been the overbearing, cold, shit of a guy that everyone expects me to be because you know what? I made the mistake of falling for you, of thinking you felt the same but all along you were just the demanding brat I always assumed you were. You don't want me unless it's all on your terms Kurt. I'm not allowed to interfere in your career, to offer advice, to try and help you out, until suddenly you want me to, and then I'm blamed for not doing enough.
You chose to take the role. Frank wrote this shitfest but you can't blame anyone for your part in it but yourself. You know what? Go be his fuckboy instead, because I'm done."
He storms out, pushing past everyone to pull open the door- just as Frank is standing on the other side.
"And you can fuck off, too," he snarls, then lands the most almighty right hook to his jaw.
"You shit!" Frank screams, clutching his face. "Did you see what he just did to me? Did you see that?"
"Yeah, yeah," Burt says, rolling his eyes. "I'd say you've got more important things to worry about, wouldn't you? Like the angry baying mob who are waiting to question you on the way you portrayed black people in that show?"
"I didn't do anything wrong!"
"Dad, let's just go," Kurt says morosely as Anna helps him to his feet. "I think I just want to go drown my sorrows right now."
It's a sad end to a bleak evening; Burt takes them all to an Italian restaurant but the girls barely pick at their meals and Kurt doesn't touch anything except the wine, which he gets through at a steady pace in between bouts of tears.
"It's not even my career I'm upset about," he says sadly. "Blaine is just... gone."
"Did you have any idea he felt so strongly for you?" Burt asks, and Kurt shakes his head.
"He dropped hints about caring for me deeply, but that? Falling for me? No."
"And how do you feel for him?"
"Honestly? I'd marry him tomorrow if he asked."
"I thought you hated each other?" Anna asks in confusion. "I mean, I just don't get it. When Meredith and I went to get him, he was sitting in his seat, staring straight ahead and he looked... I don't know."
"Broken," Meredith interjects. "He looked broken. I didn't realize, until that moment, how much this was taking its toll on him, but then I could see."
"And when we spoke with him, he just kinda stared," Anna carries on. "And then he nodded, when we asked him to come back, and he said 'Do you think Kurt...' but he cut himself off. I don't think he necessarily means to be rude, or to not speak, but I think he holds stuff back, deliberately."
"He does," Kurt confirms. "Because his family never appreciated him for who he was. So he doesn't say stuff, because he thinks nobody's interested in his thoughts, unless they're outrageous, and written in a review."
Burt reaches out, putting an arm around his son's shoulders. "Are you interested in his thoughts? In how he feels?"
"Of course!"
"Then go to him. It might take time, but I think you can both fix it, if you really want to."
By the time he's showered, changed, and mentally prepared himself, it's one thirty in the morning when he arrives at Blaine's building. This time, however, the doorman doesn't rush to pay the cab fare and he flounders for a second, before handing over his credit card.
He takes the stairs all the way to the top floor; too embarrassed to wait for the elevator, with the result that he's sweating and breathing hard when he reaches the penthouse door.
Blaine is still dressed, but his tie and jacket are gone. He opens the door, rolls his eyes, and walks back into the living room.
"Can I come in?"
"You are in."
Kurt closes the door behind him, feeling oddly nervous and unsure of how to proceed. After lingering in the hallway, he follows Blaine into the living room but he doesn't sit on the couch next to him; he stands in the middle of the room and takes a deep breath.
"I'm sorry."
"Whatever."
"I um... I don't know what to do or say to make this right," Kurt admits. "I've said some awful stuff to you, and I've hurt you."
"Don't worry about it."
"Huh?"
"Remember when we first met, and you said you were fighting a battle I knew nothing about? I assume you meant getting over losing Logan. I don't dispute the hurt his death must've caused you, but you know what? I'm enduring my own loss, too, only I lost three people in one go, and they're still alive. I'm not saying death is easier, but I had three people whom I loved with all my heart, telling me they didn't want me anymore, and placing the blame for it at my door. Tonight, yet again, you placed the blame at my door. I am not responsible for your decision to do that show, any more than I'm to blame for being gay. I put my trust in you, I let you in...you're the only person I've ever felt this way for...and you blame me, just like they blame me. So don't worry about it, Kurt, really. You're not the first person to hurt me, but you'll definitely be the last."
Distraught, all Kurt can do is stand there and cry. Blaine says nothing; he doesn't even look at him and in the end, Kurt turns and goes home.
After a sleepless night, when he cries harder than he has since losing Logan, Kurt falls into a fitful sleep as dawn breaks, which is filled with images of his brother's stern disapproval over the way he's treated the one man who would have healed him, who made him come alive once more.
It takes him a while to hear the frantic hammering on the apartment door, and when he finally wakes properly and staggers to answer it, Anna and Meredith have beaten him to it.
Burt stands there, holding a newspaper in his hands, the anger rolling off him. "What the hell? This boyfriend of yours is a liar, Kurt! An out and out liar! What kind of man stands there, telling someone he's fallen for them, burdening them with guilt over how they've been acting, and all the time they're happy to get their own petty revenge. Who does that? Blaine Anderson better pray I don't find him before my flight leaves, because he won't stand a chance."
"What the hell are you talking about, dad?" Kurt asks in confusion. "Blaine is... Oh my God." The penny drops and he takes the newspaper, sitting down at the kitchen table. "He reviewed the show, didn't he?" He finds the arts section quickly, that old familiar dread creeping in as he starts to read.
Review: The Life of Riley Morton at The Wyman.
It's always frustrating when you're forced to watch a prestigious talent wasting themselves in a dirge of a show, but it's even more infuriating when that talent is Kurt Hummel, and you've spent the better part of a month telling him not to take the role.
Last night, I, along with several other critics, had the misfortune to attend the premiere of Frank Fisher's latest musical, The Life of Riley Morton. Based on the real-life 1928 Massachusetts murder case, Morton was an evil, sadistic killer who slaughtered several innocent children, all of whom were black.
Fisher has been attempting to make it onto Broadway for several years now with no luck, but this might be his most spectacular fail to date. Given that there are still several relatives associated with the case on all sides still alive, a little tact and sensitivity wouldn't go amiss but alas, with Fisher's production, there is none.
I wish I was joking when I say that Hummel, as Morton, sings and tap dances around a graveyard shortly after the funeral of his first three year old victim. Another upbeat number, complete with showgirl chorus, has Hummel loudly proclaiming his victim's parents to be overplaying their grief.
The musical contains little to no empathy, heart, or soul. I think this is supposed to be a weird attempt at humor but it comes off as sick and depraved. After this, I would be surprised if Fisher ever manages to get the backing to make another musical again.
Sadly, and on a more personal note, I will also be surprised if Mr Hummel manages to secure any other role. It's not that his performance is bad; he can sing, and dance, and he gives a fairly decent turn as a malicious killer, but the nature of the show is such that he will be forever tainted by this role and his career will undoubtedly suffer because of it. Perhaps he's now learned his lesson; that quality and integrity are far more important in roles than a big paycheck and the chance to be a leading man. Perhaps he'll also learn to listen to those who hold his best interests at heart, and try to advise him accordingly. Knowing Mr Hummel though, I doubt it.
Blaine Anderson