But I still think that we're in love
look at your life, and look at your choices, blaine anderson
CHAPTER seven
Civilized and Non-Romantic
of I'm Not Gonna Teach Him How To Dance With You
by littlemusings
"In the silent game and in the singles' department," Blaine added. "But really, Kurt…tell me about the past three years. You still owe me that explanation," he said seriously. Kurt took a deep breath.
"Of course I'll tell you."
"While we eat, of course," Blaine laughed. "We don't want a good over-dinner conversation to go to waste."
Kurt smirked. "Always the gentleman. You weren't much of a gentleman last night."
"Hey, you weren't either," Blaine scoffed. "And, may I remind you, three years ago as well."
"Blaine, we haven't even gotten our drinks yet," Kurt pouted, folding his arms. "Oh, God, I think I'm going to need a fucking nice, strong brandy after this conversation."
"Be my guest," the shorter man said politely. "I believe I shall need one as well."
"Dapper, as always."
"Of course."
"And it's killing me. What happened to your bitter attitude last night?" Kurt exclaimed, throwing his hands up in the air in defeat. Blaine shrugged and blinked, looking at Kurt with a sly grin. "Oh god, Blaine, don't give me that look. Not that look."
"You're single."
"And do you think that's funny?"
"No. You're single," Blaine said simply. "That obviously explains my sudden change in attitude. You were asking me to meet you while you were still engaged."
"Yeah, single, just like I was after I left you in that dingy flat in Los Angeles," Kurt said sardonically, frowning. "Hey, this is going to be a civilized, non-romantic meeting, whether I am single, taken, abducted by aliens, or anything along the lines."
"Hey, the apartment was actually pretty nice and classy. It wasn't 'dingy.' Okay. Fine. 'Civilized and non-romantic.'"
Kurt pursed his lips.
"Our room was classy, especially since you could see out to the ocean. Everything else in that cheap little apartment was saved by my amazing decorating skills."
"Funny how you mention the Los Angeles apartment. I moved out of it about a month later."
"No way," Kurt gasped. "All my hard work, gone to waste, picking color swatches and whatnot."
Blaine looked at him bitterly.
"Not to be rude," he began carefully, "But you did leave it all behind."
Kurt stared at him, his expression becoming softer. "Yeah. I know. If you don't mind me asking…what did you do with all of my extra stuff?"
"…It's all in storage in my San Francisco flat."
Kurt could only nod.
The waitress walked over to their table and handed them their drinks, which they were thankful for. Blaine immediately put the glass to his mouth and looked down at the floor as he drank. There was another pregnant pause hanging in the air as they both quickly finished their drinks to avoid any immediate conversation again.
Kurt looked up a little at Blaine, who was still looking down at the floor. He found it strange, that his usually chatty ex-boyfriend was so quiet and nervous. Well, it's your entire fucking fault, Kurt. It's your entire fault. Just stop it. Stop looking at him. Oh, wait, we're at dinner together. Oh my god. And you're single. But he won't get you back that quickly. He just won't. He doesn't deserve you. What? What are you thinking? He cleared his throat and put down his glass of diet coke and Blaine finally looked back at him, raising his eyebrows. Shit. What do I say now? Hmmm, what's one his favorite topics? Ah, yeah. Let's go.
"So, Danielle finally drank for the first time?" Kurt hummed, leaning back in his seat. Blaine's expression and stance softened, and he smiled at the thought of his drunken sister. "I kinda saw Duke lugging her towards the stage last night."
"Yeah. I told her not to, though, since hangovers are pretty much a pain in the ass and she doesn't turn twenty-one until next week, but she was a bit pissed off at Duke and wanted something to distract her."
"She never drank a drop in Toronto?" Kurt asked confusedly, tilting his head to the side, eyebrows furrowing. "Funny, I thought the drinking age was lower there."
"Dan actually wanted to wait until she was back here in the US with me. She told me that her classmates had killer headaches the next day and it was impossible to take care of all of her friends, so she told me during her junior year that she would wait until I was with her, so I could watch her," Blaine shrugged, laughing at the memory.
"She's already graduating from college. That's amazing. I always thought she would do well despite her love for Korean pop and coloring books."
Blaine laughed.
"Yeah, I couldn't believe it, either. Dan's definitely out of those phases, even though I thought I caught her listening to K-Pop once. She almost went through all four years without drinking a drop. I'm proud of her, because we weren't so lucky. Remember the time Duke accidentally slipped something into your drink during that one Spring Break party at UCLA? Freshman year?" Blaine snorted.
Kurt groaned, resting his cheek on the palm of his hand. "I have not forgotten that. I will never go to Malibu ever again because of that."
"You were the one who told me to double-check all drinks I receive from others," Blaine countered.
"I wanted to avoid another Rachel Berry House Party Train-Wreck Extravaganza," Kurt sniffed indifferently. Blaine arched an eyebrow. "That was Santana and Mercedes' name for it," he added quickly.
"How is Rachel?" Blaine asked with fake interest. Kurt gave him an incredulous look. "I'm kidding. I know she's okay. I've kept in contact with her."
"She's probably the only McKinley person you've kept in contact since our…um…break-up," Kurt said gently. "Am I right?"
"You kind-of guessed right," Blaine said with a small smile. "When she heard about it, she was third to call after my sister and Duke."
"Always on top of things, Rachel Berry," Kurt muttered. I should talk to Rachel later. I think she's staying at the Marriott. "Anyone else you've talked to from high school lately—Dalton-wise, I mean?"
"Wes is in London, actually, teaching English at a private school. He arrived there a few months ago. David's studying for his doctorate in medicine in Chicago, so I'm going to see him when my tour stops by there later this week—he and Abby are still going strong. Trent's married now. He recently moved to D.C. because his wife works as a secretary in the Pentagon. Nick and Jeff are sharing an apartment somewhere in California, too. Sacramento, I think. They're planning to move up to LA."
"Wow," Kurt whistled. "That's great. I knew Wes would end up in the United Kingdom somehow. I remember during senior year, when he came to visit us at McKinley, trying to convince us that he was at least one tenth British."
"He still hasn't ruled it out," Blaine added.
"Oh, dear god. Next thing we know, he's going to end up seeing a geneticist and get proved completely wrong."
They both chuckled at the thought.
"How about your friends from McKinley?" Blaine asked.
Kurt shrugged. "Mercedes works at my sister company and also recently snagged a recording contract. She's in Ohio visiting family right now with Sam Evans—they're engaged, can you believe it? I think she's coming back this week…um, Finn, you know he's doing well in football and he's ever faithful to Quinn. Rachel is as pretentious and diva-ish as always, but you know that. Brittany and Santana also got married last year, did you know that?"
"Here, in New York?" Blaine said brightly, grinning.
"Obviously. Ohio's still as homophobic as always," Kurt rolled his eyes. "Naturally, 'Cedes, Sam, Rachel (before she moved to London, obviously), and I were able to make it since we all already lived here. Artie wasn't able to make it. Some big stuff in NASA or whatever and whatnot was going on."
"How was the wedding?"
"Insane. The greater half of Santana's family was there, so you could obviously feel just a tad bit of tension in the room. I think Rachel was panicking because she remembered Santana's little tirade against her back in high school. She didn't want another little 'Lima Heights Adjacent, yo tenny whatever' speech."
Blaine snorted. "Of course she would panic."
"For once, she finally shut up," Kurt laughed at the thought. During the dinner, she was clutching her purse for dear life. I told her, 'Rachel, you do not need to panic. Obviously, we see no cutters and everyone is too impeccably dressed to initiate conflicts, so calm down, Barbra.' It was ridiculous. But overall, the wedding was beautiful. I think it would have been better if I had planned it myself, but Wicked was running during the time it happened."
"Ah. Wicked," Blaine said quietly, nodding his head. Kurt knew he hit a sore spot, so he proceeded to drink whatever was left in his glass of coke.
Finally, the waitress, as if she knew things were getting uncomfortable, appeared from the kitchens with their dinner. She set the plates down on their table and they began to eat.
"Oh, fettuccine," Blaine said appreciatively, munching on the noodles happily. "How I have missed you so."
"How long has it been since your last plate of fettuccine?" Kurt asked incredulously, rolling up noodles on his fork.
"Three years," Blaine said thoughtfully.
"What?" Kurt exclaimed, his blue-green eyes widening. "You can't be serious."
"A busy musician is…well, busy," Blaine shrugged.
"You honestly haven't had a plate of alfredo since I last made you some?"
"…Nope."
"You are crazy," Kurt laughed. Blaine aimed a playful kick at his legs under the table. Kurt narrowed his eyes and averted his legs. "You could have bought microwaveable fettuccine. It's somewhat good, though not as good as mine."
"Good? Are you kidding me? God, it tastes like space food," Blaine gagged.
"It depends on the brand!" Kurt said defensively, putting his fork to his mouth delicately. "This is delicious. Do you see why I go here?"
"Reminds me of Breadstix," Blaine said fondly.
Kurt nodded in agreement. "I miss the endless supply of breadsticks. Here in Savore however," he said, holding up his garlic bread to Blaine's face, "the garlic bread is impeccably delicious."
Blaine picked up his and bit it, chewing it tentatively. "It's quite good, but I actually miss the reheated frozen breadsticks from Ohio," he said with a smile.
"You would." Kurt rolled his eyes.
"Of course, sir," Blaine said, grinning.
"You silly goose."
"As always."
"Still peculiar, as always," Kurt laughed.
"Anyway," Blaine began slowly, clearing his throat, "We're eating now, so I guess…I guess we should talk. About…about three years ago. About this whole…situation."
Kurt put another forkful of spaghetti in his mouth and chewed slowly, nodding. He picked up his cotton napkin and dabbed at his mouth gently. Swallowing, he rested his hands on the table and looked at Blaine straight in the eye.
"You really want to know?"
"Of course," Blaine said, taken aback.
"You're going to just…you're going to hate me forever. It…Blaine, let me just tell you, it was the biggest and stupidest mistake of my life, and I heartily regret it," Kurt whispered, his voice slightly trembling. Blaine shook his head.
"I've never hated you. Not even then," Blaine whispered back, his hand twitching. He hesitated, and patted Kurt's hand gently. "I…I just have the right to know if it was me, you, or just…life, you know?"
"That's the thing! It was me," Kurt groaned, pulling his hand away. "I was…I was stupid."
Blaine stared at Kurt.
"I never cheated on you, I promise you that," Kurt said firmly, looking Blaine in the eye.
"I know that," Blaine said softly. "You were never a potential cheater, just to let you know. I was with you almost 24/7 when we were…dating. I basically know you inside out, Kurt."
Kurt blushed. "True. Anyway…I had no idea what was running through my mind," he laughed bitterly, leaning his cheek on the palm of his hand, itching to run his hand through his hair. "First, I was with you at Anaheim Disneyland, and we were riding Space Mountain together, and I was complaining about my hair being ruined, and you gave me a kiss right before the first drop. I looked like shit, but I was so euphoric and so in love, I remember, it didn't mean a thing. The next thing I know, I get an e-mail from Joe Mantello—the fucking Joe Mantello—telling me that he was impressed with my audition tape and was heading to California to have an audition for me for the latest NYC run of motherfucking Wicked. I felt both ecstatic and as if my stomach dropped…at the same time."
Kurt was at a loss for words, and gulped. Blaine nodded for him to continue politely.
"I remember you were running around the apartment like a boy who received ten pounds of candy," he said bemusedly.
"Yes, considering the fact he was considering me for the role of Elphaba. The first male Elphaba. It was weird, you know. Joe Mantello asking me to play a male Elphaba."
"I found it creative," Blaine offered. "Keep going."
"I don't know, I saw the look on your face when you found out I actually sent in a tape. You looked both confused and happy at the same time. You totally blew off the fact that I didn't tell you I was auditioning, and you told me to go for it. And that was the face that got me thinking: do I really want to leave him behind? Should I just…should I take the chance and fly off to New York, risking my relationship with the most wonderful guy in the universe? At first, I picked the obvious choice…staying with you. Like we always said…"
"…'Our relationship before anything, because it's really the one thing that makes us whole,'" they both said together. Blaine held his breath.
"Yes, I remember," Blaine, his chest aching, whispered. He picked at his fettuccine. "Go on."
"And then the audition date was set. I remember that you were going to come with me to the audition place, but you had to go to the studio with Duke for your second EP recording on the same day. I don't know why, but I was angry, which explains why I was so pissed that week. I just…I just lost it, and I started remembering my promises to myself back in high school. I told Rachel and myself during our junior year at the National Show Choir competition that we were both destined to go straight to New York after high school. And when I realized that I broke this promise, this one little dream I had…
"I just…I just started thinking. What happened to my ambitions? What happened to me, Kurt Hummel, who tried so hard to get into NYU? Oh, there he was, in Los Angeles, California, where he has to work even more side jobs, not start his fashion line, and send a tape to New York just to get recognized in the business he wanted to be in so badly, while his boyfriend, who was rejected from NYU for some strange reason, convinced him to go with him to Los Angeles—to watch him have his dreams come true? To have a record company pick him up right after college?
"I don't even know what the fuck was going through my mind. Was it jealousy? I don't know, it probably was. And that was what got me thinking…if I ended this, I wouldn't have to go through all of this. I…I'd…I'd get the most of what I wanted, and be successful and do what I wanted to do. But then, I thought of you, and how much you loved me, and how much I loved you…and I couldn't do it. So I shook those thoughts aside and kept on acting normal."
Kurt turned up the volume of the television when he heard the front door open. Blaine walked through the threshold, a large grin on his face, and he sat right next to Kurt, kissing him on the cheek.
"Hey, babe," he said cheerfully. "Guess what?"
"What?" Kurt asked.
Blaine didn't seem to notice the stoic tone in his voice.
"I'm recording my second EP this Saturday! Isn't that great?" he said excitedly. Kurt turned down the volume of the television. "It's just, I've been waiting to produce another album, and Duke and the team loved the new songs, so we're going to record it this weekend and release it next month!"
Kurt nodded slowly. "That's great, honey."
Blaine's smile wiped off his face gradually. "Are…are you okay, Kurt?"
Kurt sighed and stared at him. "Do I look okay?"
"No, you don't," Blaine muttered. "What's wrong?"
"My audition is this Saturday," Kurt said bluntly. "I thought you were going to go with me."
Recognition spread across Blaine's face, and he ran a hand through his curly hair. "Damn it, oh, God, I'm so sorry Kurt, I forgot—"
"Sure," Kurt said stiffly. "Like I forgot any of your major label meetings or other recordings," he said, his voice cracking. He stood up and walked straight down the hallway to their bedroom.
Blaine stared at him. He…he left, because of me? "So what I'm getting from this is that you left…because you were jealous."
"Oh my God, yes, I guess we can consider that a stupid, not really valid reason," Kurt laughed bitterly. "It's horrible. I was and still am a horrible boyfriend. I think I've been cursed. Like Ella Enchanted, she has the curse of obedience, I'm stuck with the curses of ruining my relationships and jealousy."
"Don't consider it a curse," Blaine laughed weakly. "Go on."
"So, after much thinking, I told myself: a relationship shouldn't be based on such petty jealousy. I lo…loved you, so, so much that it hurt. I didn't want to stay like this forever. Thing is, the belief that I was so fucking jealous was so engrained into my head that I caved into it…and that Saturday afternoon happened. When I yelled at you after my audition. I walked out of the building, and I just couldn't stop crying. I couldn't bring myself to call you, I couldn't bring myself…to just talk to you properly."
There were already tears in Kurt's eyes as he said this, and he was cupping his mouth in his hands, shaking. Blaine closed his eyes tightly and opened them again, fighting back tears. He took Kurt's hands.
"Kurt—"
"I couldn't bring myself to text you, or anything! As soon as I touched down in New York, I went to the Apple Store and bought a new iPhone. I couldn't, Blaine, I'm so sorry—please, I really hope you forgive me, please," Kurt sobbed.
Blaine looked at him hopelessly, tears free-falling from his eyes, and held Kurt's hands in his, gripping them tightly, but gently.
"I also thought…" Kurt choked, "That if…that if I weren't with you anymore while I was in New York…that…that it would have been easier than to be with you and so far away with you. I was scared, Blaine, I couldn't—I couldn't grasp the thought of being alone in New York, without you."
Kurt pulled away, looking down, his hands on his lap.
That was when Blaine stood up, knelt on the floor, and took Kurt's hands in his again.
"Hey, hey, Kurt," Blaine whispered hoarsely. "Don't…don't cry." He lifted Kurt's chin up with his finger. Blaine stood up, his hands still holding Kurt's, and smiled.
"I'm so, so, sorry," Kurt mumbled, letting go, holding his arms out. Blaine obliged and hugged him briefly. "I hurt you so much."
"Hey, I was oblivious, Kurt," Blaine whispered in his ear. He let go and held Kurt's hands again. Blaine, be friendly. Be a good friend. A very good ex-boyfriend. Friend. Not boyfriend. You're his friend, Blaine. Back to phase one, not phase three. "We both fucked up in the end." He dropped Kurt's hands.
"I guess you can say that, but I was the one who threw the punches," Kurt whispered, smiling awkwardly. "Oh, God, I hate crying."
"Nice kisser you have there," Blaine smirked, pointing towards Kurt's black eye.
"The cover-up under my eye is fading, isn't it?" Kurt blubbered, fishing through his Jacobs bag.
"Don't worry about how you look so much," Blaine joked.
"I have a black eye, Blaine, from last night," Kurt whimpered. "I woke up, and it was there. It's so…ugh."
"It's a battle scar."
"An ugly battle scar."
"Watch as the men flutter around you and gaze at your wonderfully macho-looking battle scar," Blaine quipped, laughing weakly.
Another brief silence as the two stared at each other.
"I…I bet you're hating me right now. I can see it in your eyes, Blaine."
"I told you before, I'd never hate you. Ever," Blaine smiled, wiping a tear from Kurt's face. "Come on, Kurt. Finish up your spaghetti." He gestured towards the half-full bowl on Kurt's side of the table. Blaine wiped his eyes on the sleeves of his cardigan.
Kurt quickly pulled out a blue handkerchief and dabbed at his eyes quickly, and pulled out a compact and a small bottle of cover-up. He opened it and dabbed some under his black eye, wincing.
"Oh, Kurt," Blaine sighed, rolling his eyes, snatching the cover-up, putting the bottle on the table behind him.
"I was fixing my eye," Kurt grumbled.
"I can tell that it stings. Is it hypo-allergenic?" Blaine asked, grabbing the bottle and reading the composition of the make-up. Kurt snatched it back and applied a little more under his eye.
"Like you know about makeup," Kurt jested, smiling again.
"I have a younger sister, Kurt," Blaine said, hurt. "I'd know."
"Indeed you would, if she gave you makeovers. Which she did."
"How did you know?"
"Danielle told me years ago about what she did to you when you were in the hospital in the eighth grade."
Blaine rolled his eyes. "I was hospitalized, okay? She was bored so she decided to give me a makeover."
"Right," Kurt chuckled.
"So…about…I know this is a bad time, but about Anthony…" Blaine trailed off. "How did you guys…you know, meet?"
"Oh, Anthony," Kurt mumbled. I almost forgot about him. "To make a long story short—"
ten months after the los angeles summer / NYC
Kurt was exhilarated. He had just impressed the new editor-in-chief of Vogue, Marnie Cervico, with his impassioned defense of Doc Martens and skinny jeans, and she had just made him a regular correspondent for the world-famous magazine, and gave him a brand new Jacobs bag from her own private collection. She had even promised to help promote his new fashion line, Pavarotti, and take it to the next level by applying some of his outfits for that year's New York Fashion Week.
Plus, he had a show that night for Wicked, so he was pretty much in a hurry to get to the Gershwin Theater on time – he knew how much Director Montello loved early birds.
So, there he was, running out of the Vogue building, laden with papers and binders balancing in his arms; his new Marc Jacobs bag slung across his shoulders. He was grateful for the doorman when he reached the outside, and as he was waiting to cross the crosswalk, a tall figure rammed into him, Kurt's binders falling to the concrete, and the feeling of a hot liquid spilled all over his new bag and his white trench coat.
"Shit!" Kurt swore, getting to his knees. The taller man blinked and immediately stood up, holding out a hand to Kurt, who took it gruffly.
"I'm so, so sorry," the man panicked. Kurt's heart froze—
The young man had dark brown, soft-looking hair (it was dyed, he believed), a perfect face, and quite literally, a perfect body. In sweats and a t-shirt. Kurt grimaced at the sweats, but ignored that fact immediately.
Then, he realized, that his Burberry trench coat and his new Marc Jacobs bag was ruined by a latte.
"You spilled your coffee all over me, you dimwit," Kurt snapped, throwing his arms up in frustration. "That was a new Jacobs bag, and I bought this coat just last month!"
"I'm really sorry," the man sighed, helping him pick up his papers and binder. "I'll make it up to you. How much was the coat?"
"Do you really want to know?" Kurt sneered, grimacing as he looked down at his jacket. The man gulped.
"I'll buy you a new—wait, is that a Burberry?" the man asked, his eyes growing wide. Kurt's heart leapt and he nodded, numb.
"How did you know?" Kurt asked suspiciously.
"I know my brands," the man smirked. "Come on, I'll get you a new one." He picked up the rest of Kurt's papers and binders, and held them in his hands.
"I can't right now; I have rehearsal. You see, I work for Wicked, and our first show is in three weeks, so—"
"Oh! I see," the man exclaimed. "I'll help you with your things. The George Gershwin, right?"
"Yes. That would be nice."
They started walking down the street.
"I'm Kurt," Kurt said stiffly as they began walking. Oh my god, I look gross with this coffee stain going down my bag and shirt. "Kurt Hummel."
"Anthony, Anthony Marksman. Pleasure to meet you. I'd shake your hand, but I'm carrying your binders."
"—And from there, we went on dates for the next three weeks, and he showed up on opening night with a bouquet of roses. Cliché, yes, but I thought…well, I thought it was sweet," Kurt said indifferently. "So, that was ten romantic comedies in one."
"But in the end…" Blaine began.
"…Yeah, we didn't end up together."
More silence.
"That was a bit like our 'romantic comedy,' tragedy, whatever you call it," Blaine laughed. "I still remember those When Harry Met Sally jokes we exchanged back in high school."
"I will always be Meg Ryan," Kurt sniffed indifferently, his eyes slowly losing their red, blotchy tint.
"That deal was made years ago," Blaine laughed, and then he hesitated. "Kurt…about that. We're both very busy men. We…we need to focus on our lives."
"I understand that, considering the fact that I just broke up with my fiancé."
"So…after today, to, well…" Blaine knew saying this would break him, but he had to, "I think we should get on with our everyday lives. Without each other as distractions."
Kurt nodded stiffly. "I…I agree. But, for today, let's just…let's just pretty much celebrate the fact that we're at least somewhat friends again."
Blaine looked at his watch. "Oh, dear, it's getting late. I have a flight tomorrow afternoon."
"Afternoon," Kurt echoed. "You have whenever you get back to your hotel room and tomorrow morning to get over whatever hangover you will have. I suggest we head back to my flat, and catch up quite a bit more."
"Kurt…" Blaine said warningly.
"What? This is a civil and completely non-romantic meeting," Kurt sighed. "Come on. I already paid."
He stood up, clutching his bag, nodding his head towards the door.
"What?" Blaine snorted.
"I knew you were going to order the fettuccine."
Author's Note: I AM SO SORRY FOR POSTING THIS CHAPTER SO LATE. AND I'M SORRY IT'S SO SHORT. The next one will be much, much longer, I promise you. I'll get to writing it. After Deathly Hallows, Part Two tomorrow. After my tears stop, which I think will take a few days. Just kidding. I've been busy with summer work and whatnot, and writer's block has been seriously beating me up. I hope you guys enjoyed this chapter. There will be angsty!Klaine next chapter. Just a little. And a surprise appearance from someone. And hopefully, some friendly fluff.
I'd like to give a shout-out to my new, amazing friends, Cass, Hayley, Angel, and Cat. And much love to liz-loz for writing me an adorable as fuck Klaine one-shot.
If anyone is interested in my tumblr, it's http : / / littlewizardmusings . tumblr . com. I have links to my tumblr drabbles for Danielle and Blaine on there, and other little things like Glee/HP crossovers and stuff like that.
Reviews would be absolutely lovely. I love you guys! Thank you for all the wonderful support you've given me for this story. It really all does mean a lot. Sorry for the short chapter, once more.
AND I HAVE, IN FACT, MEMORIZED SANTANA'S "ESCUCHA! YO SOY DE LIMA HEIGHTS ADJACENT, Y YO TENGO ORGULLO! SABE LO QUE PASA EN LIMA HEIGHTS ADJACENT? COSAS. MALAS."
Love,
Sam
DISCLAIMER: I don't own Glee. I wish I did. It would have been Potterfied and Klainebowfied by now. Okay. Potassium. Goodbye. I don't own the lyrics to Darren Criss' "I Still Think," which is the song quote at the top of the chapter.
AND, I did not write any of the lyrics used in this story. They are property of their artists.
TOMORROW, I'LL PROBABLY BE POSTING THE LINK TO THE SOUNDTRACK, SO KEEP AN EYE OUT. I WILL POST THE SOUNDTRACK DOWNLOAD LINK ON TUMBLR AND ON MY PROFILE.