A/N: This is the second one-word prompt. As before, these are all written within a day. Since my previous fic was so short, this is a bit longer and has a bit more of a plotline.
Thank you to everyone who reviewed, and to Lolee Ann, who gave me a good list of prompts. This was my favorite and thus prompted my story! Please enjoy.
Prompt: Paris
Word Count: 4469
Setting/Warnings: Future!Fic, set in Paris, city of love. Sweet. No warnings.
Kurt Hummel always knew he'd be destined for Parisian culture. Broadway too, of course, but the life of a famous New York star could become rather pressing sometimes, and when the city life became too much for him to bare between productions, there was only one other place to go.
Ah, Paris. City of love. City of famous designers. City of sexy men with sexy accents, which he could observe in peace with a fresh batch of coffee and a few scripts tucked up in his cute little cream Prada over-the-shoulder bag. He sighed happily as a waiter approached the table and set down a fresh pot of milk which was served in a simply adorable little china number that matched the exterior without being too tacky. He'd had big dreams of the place, and it most certainly didn't disappoint. It was beautiful, and cultural, and so close to heaven he almost expected his mom to come strutting down one of the cobbled back streets.
What he didn't expect was to look up at his waiter to thank him with a warm smile, only to find himself looking straight into a pair of soft hazel brown eyes belonging to an admittedly older but instantly recognizable David Karofsky.
Kurt's mouth remained open and frozen in place, unable to form the words he'd been so intent on saying. Dave, who had been setting down the beverage with a polite comment in French, looked at him in a way that was both curious and a little disturbed by the way Kurt was now staring at him.
He didn't recognize him.
"M-Merci," he finally managed to stutter out through his shocked expression. David, who had picked up on his usually undetectable accent, tilted his head a little and politely ignored the stutter. Instead he offered the smaller man an easygoing, rather handsome smile and a calm response in English, tinged with his Ohio accent.
"You're welcome."
Kurt sat in refined silence for the good part of an hour, watching his old bully and sipping at his coffee absentmindedly once he remembered it was there. Dave looked so... different. Older. Calmer. Time could change a person, and it had been years. How many? Three? Five? No, wait, he'd have been eighteen when he last saw the man, so that made it... Seven years. Wow. They'd been in the same year, so he'd be twenty-five by now, just like Kurt.
Seven years could change a person, and drastically so, if that morning was anything to go by. Never in his whole life would he have considered Karofsky to be the move-to-France-and-work-in-a-Parisian-coffee-shop kind of guy. He'd heard his French; it had always been terrible. Hearing him speak fluently to the other customers ('phrases he probably picked up from a terribly written little second hand book', he'd thought cattily) made him realize maybe he'd been wrong. And then he felt bad for not speaking to him. Not all that bad for Karofsky; just because it had been a long time since high school didn't mean he wanted to sit around drinking coffee with him as they reminisced about the old times. Kurt didn't want to remember 'old times'. He left that place to get rid of them.
No, he wanted to finally be able to look Karofsky in the eye and tell him he wasn't afraid any more. He'd become successful in spite of everything the bully put him through. He was one of the biggest Broadway stars, here to take a break from his hectic life of performances and practicing. He wanted to finally be able to stand up and tell him to his face exactly what he thought of him; things that had been expressed only in his eyes and attitude before now.
He had it all planned out. He would come back right before Karofsky got off work for that night, march right up to him, introduce himself properly and politely request that he took a small amount of his time for the evening so they could talk. The moment they were alone, or even right there and then if he refused to talk to him, he'd stand with his head held high, look him straight in the eyes and just tell him. He'd tell him about all of the things he'd done in high school; every single emotion he'd ever felt. He'd tell him that he'd ruined his first kiss, which seemed like something trivial now, but at the time had been utterly devastating for him.
Perhaps he'd also thank him, because without the death threat pushing him over the edge (albeit temporarily) he would have never been sent to Dalton. Without the transfer, he and Blaine would probably have never gotten together. Sure, their relationship didn't last, but it had a good run of six months and left him feeling confident with himself and his skills as a boyfriend.
Kurt wanted that closure. He wanted the fulfillment of finally getting everything off his chest. He wanted that lifelong dream of standing up and proving to the world that he was better than his bullies just like he'd always said.
Everything was set in place for that night. After his coffee, Kurt carried his neat little tray to the clean-up counter himself instead of waiting for someone to come and get it for him. He leaned casually against it and smiled at the waitress, who greeted him with a polite smile.
"Excuse me, but could I ask what time you get off this evening?" Kurt asked in French, far more fluently than during his little stumble before.
She eyed him up and down once with disinterest and returned to her little notebook. "I'm sorry, sir, but I'm not interested."
"What? Oh no, no! Please, I didn't mean it like that." Kurt shook his head and gestured to Dave, who was chatting cheerily to an elderly woman and her daughter. "I meant for that waiter over there. Dave."
Her eyes widened a little in surprise and she straightened up, suddenly appearing far friendlier. "Oh! I see. Yes; David gets off around six this evening. Should I give him a message?"
"No, no, that's okay. I'd prefer it if it was a surprise. We were friends in high school; it's been a while, you see..."
She nodded her head passionately and flashed him a much warmer smile as she took the tray from the counter to give it to cleaning. "It's no problem, sir."
The rest of the day went by in a blur. Shops, street performances, classy restaurants, sightseeing, photographs... At the end of it all, when he'd showered, gone through his nightly moisturizing routine and curled up on his bed in a free fluffy bathrobe, he found that he hadn't stopped thinking about his bully-turned-waiter all day. He flicked absentmindedly through his camera from that day, finding that he could only remember taking less than half of them.
It was ten O'clock at night.
In the end, he hadn't been able to go back to the café. All day he'd psyched himself up to go back and finally confront his bully, but for some reason when the time ticked around, he found himself standing on the cobbles at the other side of the street, inconspicuously browsing through their display of theater masks, which ranged from tacky to downright adorable.
He watched Dave through the reflection in the mirrors lined up around the display, observing him as he swept the front step and finally left for the night, calling something to one of his coworkers and laughing delightedly at the response.
That laugh did something to Kurt. It made something stir within him to see that undeniably handsome face lit up in a bright smile instead of being twisted into the hateful expression he'd always carried around in his presence. He watched as he pulled the coat over his broad shoulders and made his way down the street, out of sight.
Instead of following, Kurt just stood there until he caught sight of himself in the mirror and realized he was standing there with slightly flushed cheeks and a stupid smile on his face. It immediately dropped from his face and he fought it off, mortified at being affected so badly.
All the same, instead of trying to catch up or ask at the shop for further details, he trailed away down the street and wandered aimlessly until he grew tired of walking.
The next day, around mid afternoon, Kurt returned from another morning of sightseeing. It had taken a lot of self control for him to wander around until this late instead of rushing straight back to the charming little bistro as soon as possible.
Dave wasn't on duty. Kurt's heart sank as he placed his order and took a seat at his previous table outside, curling up with a script and attempting to focus on it. He had a lot of productions to get into again when he returned to New York, so he might as well get back into the routine of going over his lines. He could have chanted Fiyero's lines backwards, but at least it would give him something to do besides sit there and look around for the man like a stalker.
Around ten minutes later, Kurt was taking a delicate bite into the sweet cherry teacake he'd ordered when he heard two voices speaking in rapid fire French from behind him as they headed up the quiet street to Le Baiser De Café. His ears perked up when he recognized one of them and he zoned into the conversation.
"-mean there was nobody waiting for you last night?"
"I mean what I said. There was nobody there waiting for me when my shift ended. Are you sure the guy was asking after me?"
"Pretty sure. You were the one that served him, after all, and I'm pretty sure... oh, what's the word? 'Bats for your team'? There aren't many gay men around here. Besides, he said he knew you from high school."
Kurt glanced at him from behind the script and huddled back when they passed and headed into the café. Dave was frowning a little to himself.
"Angelique, I wasn't out of the closet in high school. Nobody knew I was gay," he explained further when she glanced at him questioningly, misunderstanding the metaphor. "If I knew him from my schooldays, he would have just been a friend. Maybe he meant another David? There's that brunette who works behind..."
After that, Kurt couldn't hear the rest of the conversation because they'd passed through the near-silent coffee shop and into the back room to pick up their uniforms. When they re-emerged, neither of them spoke. Instead, they went back to their stations and continued their work as usual. Kurt drained his cup, daintily finished off his desert and carried his tray to the cleaning station yet again. She looked up at him and immediately straightened, clearly desperate to talk to him but restraining herself. How Parisian.
Instead of humoring her, he merely nodded his head pleasantly at her, which she returned cordially.
Dave was outside sweeping again when Kurt left. His hands grew clammy watching the huge man, still so much taller and stronger than him, but he shook it off and gripped his shoulder strap a little tighter so his knuckles turned white. With a deep breath, he straightened up and approached him with carefully placed strides, head held high. His hand was steady by the time he gently placed it on his arm, pausing his motions. The brunette head turned his way and smiled lightly, clearly expecting for it to be another customer.
"Good afternoon, sir. Can I-"
"Karofsky. It's been a while."
Those eyes steadied on his face for a couple of moments, letting the words and cocky accent (tinged with that angry New-Yorker vibe he'd picked up over time) sink in.
Kurt couldn't hold back his smile when those lips twitched and his eyes widened in recognition.
"Hummel? Is that you?"
"Yes." His reply was crisp and tinged with amusement. Dave shook his head a little and gave a weak laugh.
"I served you yesterday, as well. How did I not... Wow. You look so different." And indeed he did. His face was older, more mature, and had lost most of the cherubic roundness it used to possess. His lips were a little thinner and his skin seemed smooth and pale as always. The eyes seemed more powerful; his nose more hawk-like and elegant. He was taller too; they were almost the same height. Still thin; still fabulously dressed; which would have normally made him stand out right away, but Paris was full of such men and Dave had grown used to seeing them on an everyday basis.
More than that, though, difference just seemed to surround him. What it was exactly, the man couldn't quite locate, but there was something. A change in the way he carried himself, confident and totally at ease with himself.
It was absolutely stunning.
Kurt brushed away a lock of his (shorter) hair and cleared his throat in a delicate cough, which made him realize he was staring. Color rose to his cheeks and he managed a weak smile. "Sorry. It's been a long while."
"It has." Kurt agreed readily. "I never would have expected to see you here. I would have said something yesterday, but I got a little tied up."
"That's fine. It's just nice to know that the mystery friend has a face; Angelique was going out of her mind."
"Well, I'm here. Mystery 'friend' in the flesh. Do you mind if we sit down? I have a lot I want to talk about."
"Of course. I just took a break, but let me see if I can get a little time. Please, wait here."
Kurt repositioned himself in his chair and neatly folded his legs one over the other, which were lean and well toned from his dancing. This didn't go unnoticed by the waiter when he reemerged and took the place opposite him. Kurt just managed to catch a glimpse of Angelique straining to see what was going on before she noticed him and flushed, turning her back on the pair to continue polishing glasses.
"I might have to go and serve customers if they show up, but I have time for you. What did you want to talk about?"
Kurt watched his lap for a few moments, brushing away imaginary creases and crumbs. When he looked up again, his eyes were suddenly firm and serious. He might as well cut to the chase straight away. He switched straight to English, deciding it would be easier for them to understand one another and lower their chances of being overheard (which he didn't care so much about) or interrupted (which mattered quite a bit).
"I want to talk to you about what happened in high school."
Dave shook his head and leaned on one hand, rubbing at his temple with his fingers. "I thought as much. With all the things I did to you, I doubted you wanted to talk about Hockey..."
"You tormented me, Karofsky. For almost two years. You drove me out of my school with fear, and you made me leave everything behind. All the people I cared about; everything I worked so hard for."
Dave cupped his chin instead of his forehead and observed Kurt in reserved silence, allowing him to speak, which he did so quite happily.
"Whenever I had to switch classes, I was scared of walking down the hallway by myself in case you decided to attack me. You terrorized me and my friends for the simple reason that you couldn't control your own anger. You lashed out without motive, particularly to me. You almost made me hate who I was. If I hadn't transferred, you would have driven me out of my mind for good."
Kurt's chest was heaving a little heavier than falling, but other than that, nothing at all portrayed how much this conversation was affecting him. He had to take a deep breath to continue.
"I want you to know how you made me feel, Karofsky. You made me so scared I couldn't face going to school any more. You made me sweat every time someone bigger than me brushed past me in the hallway, or when someone talked to be right behind my head in class. I'm not afraid of you any more. I stopped being afraid a long, long time ago, and I've overcome everything you threw in my path. I have nothing more to say to you."
Dave, who was rather pale by this time and had some undetectable emotion shimmering in his eyes, merely observed Kurt in silence for a few long seconds. He savored seeing the big man so defenseless, but it made something else stir within him as well.
"You're right," he finally replied in a quiet voice. "I had no reason for what I did to you and everyone else. There's no way I can ever make up for what I've done; for what I took from you. Everything I did – it was all because I was a bitter, angry young man with no way of expressing how I felt about everything. About you."
He paused and let out a nervous chuckle, rubbing the back of his neck. He didn't want to focus on that, in fear of embarrassing the other man when they were finally together and relatively alone. It was no laughing matter, but Kurt understood that it was to try and relieve the tension. He gestured for the man to continue.
"I can only say I'm sorry, Kurt. I'm sorry for everything. I was an immature, selfish person with a terrible attitude to everyone who affected me. I can never go back and redo all the things that I did to hurt others, but believe me, every day I wish I could. I'm so glad you achieved your dreams. Broadway, right?" Kurt nodded his head silently, and Dave's smile broadened. "I'm honestly happy for you. God knows you deserve it, after all the crap I dragged you through. But I want you to know that I really have changed. Thinking about how I made you feel; how I drove you out of school... That was what spurned me to change how I acted. And I wish I could make up for everything I did to you. I wish that every single day."
"Thank you, David." The reply was calm and controlled and everything Dave wished he could be. They smiled at one another from their seats and Kurt slid his bag over his shoulder. "I need to get going," he added as he got to his feet. Dave quickly followed suit.
"Right. Yes, of course. Thank you for talking with me today, Kurt. Good luck with your next big role."
Kurt just stood there for a few moments, watching the other with mild curiosity, drinking in his appearance. With a slight nibble to his lip, he let his blue-green eyes linger on hazel for just a moment.
"I'll see you tomorrow," he announced quite firmly, with no room for complaint. "I need my caffeine fix and this is the best place I've found."
With that, he said his goodbyes and walked off down the cobbled street.
The next day, the poor man was panicking a little over whether or not Kurt would really come back. He'd stayed back an extra half-hour the night before discussing it in detail with Angelique, who firmly reassured him that it would be fine. He believed her, but it was still a relief to see him walking in at one; the same time as yesterday, as a matter of fact. He ordered without a glance at the waiter, took his normal seat and pulled out a script. When Dave fetched the coffee, he wondered why Kurt ordered two cups instead of one. Did he have a friend with him?
At the table, Kurt merely smiled and gestured for him to sit down. Why the coffee was exactly the same as his usual order, he didn't know, but he realized it was important for him to take this chance.
They talked, with small breaks between so Dave could serve customers, until the café closed up for the night.
Kurt didn't show up the next day, and Angelique wondered – mostly to herself, as was polite – where he was. Despite his disinterest and lack of comment, she noted that her friend seemed to pine over him like a little puppy. Her lips remained sealed, but she couldn't hold back her smile when they left together, only to find Dave's new 'friend' standing outside the bistro with a wordless smile.
"I thought you could take me out for the night."
"I can do that."
They walked off together, their paces aligned step by step. They were already smiling so much, Angelique couldn't help but grin at how adorable they looked.
"That street performance was amazing! I had no idea you could get those sorts of shows for free."
Dave smiled at the excited look on Kurt's face. They'd already had dinner (which Dave paid for, of course) at a restaurant that could have been either friendly or romantic depending on the couple, so as to keep Kurt at ease. Conversation flowed easily, and neither one of them couldn't remember a time when they'd laughed so much. Afterwards, they'd taken a long walk to see some of the lesser known beauty spots that were often overlooked by tourists. Kurt managed to get a lot more pictures. From their spot next to an old Parisian manner home, they'd spotted some lights and music coming from the square. Wordless glances were exchanged, and they hurried towards the performance with excitement bubbling in their hearts.
"I had no idea people could stretch that easily, and that's saying something after New Directions," he commented with a happy laugh that did wonderful things to Dave's stomach.
"I know. I mean, I've lived here for almost a year now and I still find beautiful little surprises popping up when you least expect them to."
A silence fell over them when they glanced at each other for just a moment. Their cheeks darkened in color and they looked away again, but when Dave's eyes flickered over to him again for just a moment, he noticed Kurt was smiling. They turned off and started heading towards Kurt's hotel, trailing slowly down a twisting cobbled street lit by soft oil lamps hanging above their heads.
"It's my last day here," he admitted in a soft, slightly melancholic voice, breaking the silence. "My flight leaves at six tomorrow morning."
"Oh. I... I had no idea."
"I'm sorry. I should have told you sooner; I just never expected to for it to really... matter, you know?"
Dave nodded silently, finding that both their paces decreased in speed, perhaps to try and make this moment last for a bit longer. "I know."
They paused at the corner, and Kurt glanced up the road to his hotel. His teeth were gnawing at his lip again. Dave couldn't help but reach out and place a large hand over his cheek, brushing the soft skin with his fingertips.
"I'll miss you," he admitted quietly. Kurt gazed up at him and found that for the first time, he really didn't want to leave his past tormentor. Dave really had changed. And, whether it was the truly heartbreaking expression on his face or the genuine way his eyes misted over, Kurt found that he was suddenly reaching into his bag for a pen and a spare piece of paper. He scribbled at it for a few moments and passed it over to the taller man, who took it with a confused look.
"This is my e-mail and the address to my apartment. Come and visit me if you're ever in New York."
His heart was fluttering and his stomach churned with emotion, but all he could do was nod his head dumbly. "You can count on it."
They stood facing one another in awkward silence, knowing that this was their goodbye. Dave went for a handshake, which felt too impersonal after everything, but Kurt grasped his hand regardless. Instead of shaking it however, his hand closed over the large paw and he reached out to hug him tightly. Dave clung to him tightly, drinking in the feel, the warmth, the smell; the very essence of the smaller boy. When they parted, he felt Kurt's lips press against his cheek.
"I forgive you," he whispered into the darkness. Dave could feel the tears welling up in his eyes. He'd wanted to hear those words for so long.
And then, he was gone. The big man stood alone on the corner and looked down at the paper folded in his hands. It smelt of Kurt.
The flight touched down less than a day later. Kurt greeted his old college-roommate-cum-best-friend with a hug and promises of presents if he left him alone until tomorrow, when they could meet up for coffee and swap stories about their time apart.
Despite the jet lag and general exhaustion from hauling numerous large suitcases around his spacious studio apartment (and unpacking immediately, in fear of his clothing becoming creased), Kurt still couldn't sleep that night. Instead he lay in the darkness and listened to the traffic bustling about below him, wondering what time it was in Paris. With a sigh he rolled over and flicked on his laptop, heading straight for his e-mail inbox.
His hands were shaking as he stood there on the doorstep, feeling like an utter fool. He'd read and re-read the address so many times, he thought the words might fall from the page, erased by his restless vision.
He took a deep breath and tried to stop his trembling. It was one of those moments of 'oh my god am I really about to do this?' Before he could even think about it, his hand shot out and pressed the doorbell sharply. Yes.
The door flung open and Kurt stood there, flustered and disheveled. A stack of papers were in his hands – pages and pages of e-mails they'd sent to each other over the past month.
When the big man asked if he could come and visit, Kurt immediately said yes. But having him here, in the flesh, was another matter entirely.
They both sighed at the sight of each other and Dave stepped over the doorstep into Kurt's open arms.