Disclaimer: I do NOT own rights to any of the characters from Glee. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended.
A/N: Well seeing the overwhelming response asking for more I decided that I'd set aside NDNB for the moment and concentrate on this – this seems to be flowing from me a lot easier so I figure 'path of least resistance' and all that jazz. Writing as a stream of consciousness seems to work for me.
This is from Kurt's perspective. First-person again (such a change from what I've written in the past, I quite like it).
There's one person in particular that I decided to style the character of Lukas for – I'm sure he'll pick up on the reference, especially when I admit that he originally started out as Italian XD
"Telephone by The Jellybaby Bandit"
Chapter Two – Bad Romance...
"I want your love
And I want your revenge
You and me could write a bad romance
I want your love
And all your lover's revenge
You and me could write a bad romance"
My cell keeps ringing and I wish it would stop. I'm not in the mood to be taking any calls from the people at work. I haven't done so in several days now so it's no surprise that they're probably concerned. I'm notorious for my micro-management – no detail too small.
So they keep calling even though I don't pick up – it's incessant. An annoying background buzzing that just won't go away. I ignore the thought that it could be Lukas that's calling me – that's not something I want to focus on right now. If I do I'm liable to break apart into millions of little pieces.
I'm freaking out. It's been three days now and he won't answer my calls. I've been so stupid. Why did I have to go and ruin things?
I've lost count of how many times I've tried to call him. I know it's a lot by now but I have to speak to him. I have to try to make him understand.
"Oh-oh-oh-oh-oooh!
Oh-oh-oooh-oh-oh!
Caught in a bad romance
Oh-oh-oh-oh-oooh!
Oh-oh-oooh-oh-oh!
Caught in a bad romance"
If I answer the call I'll end up in a conversation about something that I really couldn't care less about right now. I know – who'd have thought that I'd ever have said that about fashion?
I can almost hear on the wind, the sound of the ringtone I picked for his cell – even though all I can hear is the standard tone on my end of the line – I'm calling from the hotel line in the hopes that he'll answer the unknown number. He never does though but I'm not one to give up that easily.
I'm pretty sure that he doesn't know how to change the ringtone himself – either that or he just doesn't care about that kind of thing – it was still on the factory pre-set when I changed it after all.
It's been three days though and the cell is still switched on. Which means either he's kept it with him and just isn't answering it or he's ditched it somewhere. I pray it's not the latter. If it's the latter then I don't know what I'll do.
"I want your love
And I want your revenge
You and me could write a bad romance
I want your love
And all your lover's revenge
You and me could write a bad romance"
Things have changed so drastically in the last two years that my head is still spinning. Everything used to make sense to me. I got through High School and went straight to New York the next day and from there got myself a job at Prada and then hey presto – instant fame and stardom.
I always knew that something good would come of being – well me – but I never imagined that I'd have already left Prada behind to become the head of my own Fashion House by the age of twenty. True, I was always ready to critique an outfit when I was younger, but it never occurred to me to think about actually designing them myself.
Who knew that I'd find not only a talent for it but also an appreciative audience?
"Oh-oh-oh-oh-oooh!
Oh-oh-oooh-oh-oh!
Caught in a bad romance
Oh-oh-oh-oh-oooh!
Oh-oh-oooh-oh-oh!
Caught in a bad romance"
There's no point in beating about the bush – I was a millionaire by twenty – a multi-millionaire by twenty-three. My creations are worn by some of Hollywood's biggest stars and now when I decide that something's 'in fashion' – it's the big boys like Prada and D & G who sit up and take notice.
I was happy for a while. I was consumed by my work for so long – designing and fitting – media and travelling the world for fashion shows. I've been all over the world, London, Paris, Tokyo... and Milan.
Milan. That's where I met the sixteen-year old Lukas – while I was debuting some of my Autumn Collection. I was twenty-one years old and in the Italian fashion capital for the first time and so was he.
And he was so beautiful and attentive – so eager to learn. One of the young models chosen by my scouts. He was just an ordinary kid from an ordinary town in Sweden, who just happened to be the single hottest thing I'd ever laid my eyes on.
"I want your love
And I want your revenge
You and me could write a bad romance
I want your love
And all your lover's revenge
You and me could write a bad romance"
Naturally he's taller than me, but then let's face it at 5'8'', that's hardly going to be difficult is it. His messy blonde hair, which I just wanted to run my fingers through straight away. His piercing blue eyes – so like my own. That warm smile filled with 100% natural pearly white teeth. He captivated me and I lost myself in him – in his eyes and his smile. And then again when I took him to my bed.
Lukas wasn't anything like the usual arrogant self-important clothes horses that think because they wear the clothes that they have the talent. Who designs what they wear? Who hires them in the first place?
"Oh-oh-oh-oh-oooh!
Oh-oh-oooh-oh-oh!
Caught in a bad romance
Oh-oh-oh-oh-oooh!
Oh-oh-oooh-oh-oh!
Caught in a bad romance"
My well publicised cat-fight with Tyra Banks is the stuff of legend now. The YouTube generation bit me in the ass on that one – one slip and it's recorded for the world to see again and again. Still no publicity is bad publicity as it turns out and Tyra did look bloated – I stand by my comments.
The line is still ringing and he won't answer. I've gotten into this pattern, now so ingrained into my being that I'm hanging up and redialling as a reflex. Each time the line pauses and the voicemail gets ready to kick in, I'm on that disconnect button like Sophie Anderton on a line of coke.
Hang up. Redial.
'Please pick up...'
I sent Lukas back to New York to wait for me at my apartment. It wouldn't do to have him hanging around – besides it just makes me feel guilty to see his face. Even when I picture him in my minds eye I feel the guilt – I can't imagine how crappy I'd feel if he were still here.
"I want your love
And I want your revenge
You and me could write a bad romance
I want your love
And all your lover's revenge
You and me could write a bad romance"
Christ I've messed everything up so badly.
I will admit I've not kept in touch with many of my friends from High School – the only ones I keep any kind of contact with are Mercedes, Tina and Quinn – the latter usually only by email. I realise it makes me a bad person when most of my responses to Quinn aren't actually from my own mouth – my assistant Sebastian handles all of that for me. I'm a busy person after all.
"Oh-oh-oh-oh-oooh!
Oh-oh-oooh-oh-oh!
Caught in a bad romance
Oh-oh-oh-oh-oooh!
Oh-oh-oooh-oh-oh!
Caught in a bad romance"
My lifestyle has consumed me I think – so much that I just can't function in the normal world anymore. That must be it. There's no other explanation. I've become this – this monster – a horrible vacuous self-serving person so devoid of any kind of empathy for my fellow man that I just can't relate anymore. How could I treat him the way I did otherwise?
I can't take it anymore. If I don't stop them calling me I'm going to go nuts. I pick up my cell and I launch it at the far wall with as much strength as I can muster. Oh thank God – blessed silence at long last.
Dammit – still no answer. Hang up. Redial.
I've been sitting in my penthouse suite for three days straight now. Thank God for room service or I wouldn't have eaten or drunk anything in that whole time. I dread to think what my reflection looks like right now. I've got all of the curtains drawn and despite it being the middle of August, I've got the large fireplace going making the air almost sauna like.
I don't usually go for facial hair, preferring to keep my skin completely clean shaven however I've not moved in three days so I guess I have a little stubble. It never grows in even though - like a patchwork quilt. Lukas would scold me for letting myself go like I have.
Lukas. God I don't know what I'm going to do there. I brought him all the way from Milan back to New York with me. He became the face – and the abs – of my next three season's collections. And – I loved him – I really and completely loved him.
Which is why I made the decision on my twenty-second birthday to go on a pilgrimage. Back to where it all started. Back to Lima, Ohio – that little backwards town that I was so pleased to have escaped from after Graduation. Of course it also helped that Dad had broken his leg and that I had no choice but to come back to look after him. He was getting old after all – almost 50 now.
A part of me wishes I'd never had the notion to go home. I should have hired a nurse to look after Dad and stayed in New York or in my house in the Hamptons. If I had then none of this would have ever happened and I'd still be blissfully ignorant. But I wanted to introduce him to Lukas – the man I'd thought I was going to spend the rest of my life with.
Why did I have to go and fall in love with someone else? And why did it have to be him?
It was gradual you see? It wasn't like one day I turned up back in Lima and decided that I loved another person. It took two years before I realised what was happening. That I was shirking working in New York in favour of going home to Lima more and more. And it wasn't to see my Dad like I told both myself and everyone else that asked.
It was to see him – even though he didn't know why I kept coming back either. He thought we had simply struck up an unlikely friendship. And we did. At first.
I need him now though. I need him to need me and if he doesn't? Best not to think about that I don't think. I'll probably come apart at the seams if I think about that.
Lukas doesn't understand yet exactly what's happened, I don't think. He's a beautiful boy but he's not the brightest crayon in the box. Even so I'll make sure that he's set for life before I send him back to Milan or Tokyo or wherever he wants to go.
And he will have to go – somewhere far away from me at the very least – I can't continue to live a lie with him. Not knowing what I know now. That I love another more than I could ever conceive of loving him.
God that makes me a horrible person doesn't it? To on the one hand want to send him away and on the other wish that he were here right now because I would kill for someone to wrap me up in their arms and tell me that everything will be OK.
Someone. Not someone. Him. Only him. And that's the problem. It's only him and if he doesn't answer he'll never know that.
I pull back one of the heavy curtains at the balcony doors which was blocking out the moonlight from the night sky. I stare out the window at the moon and I can't help but wonder whether he's looking at it too. Whether he thinks of me as I think of him.
No answer. Hang up. Redial.
'Please answer... the silence is deafening...'
I know I treated him badly. I tried to mould him and craft him into something that Lukas could never be. And it all blew up in my face because I was impulsive.
I'm going to be alone for the rest of my life. Alone and lonely if he doesn't answer. If he doesn't tell me where he is and let me fix what I've broken between us.
What if he never forgives me? What if I hurt him too much? Can I do this without him? Can I go back to New York to my empty apartment and go back to my old life?
Do I even want to go back to my old life if he's not there to live it with me from now on?
The answer is no. It's all or nothing now. I'd give up everything I have if it would make him answer the phone. I'd sell it all – the business, the homes, the cars... none of it matters when I'm alone. I'd go back to being Kurt Hummel – Burt's gay son – with not a penny to my name if it meant I got to be with him. I'd happily throw on a set of coveralls and work alongside him in the shop day after day if it meant that at the end of each day I got to go home with him.
I want the domestic life. I want him because he's so unlike the life I've surrounded myself with. He's the balance that I've unknowingly been craving as I slipped deeper and deeper into a pit of bubbling despair.
I love you, Noah please pick up.
I didn't mean for any of this to happen you know? I was just lonely and I wanted a friend. And weird as it is to admit it. Work was hectic, life was getting to me and he turned out to be the one I wanted to be friends with. I was just as surprised as anyone believe me when he offered to listen if I wanted to talk.
There were no airs and graces between us despite the differing lots that life had handed us. Me a millionaire fashion designer and he an average paid mechanic who worked for my Dad. I didn't have to pretend to be someone I'm not around him and Lord knows he didn't try to pretend to be anything other than who he is. I was still the gay kid he slushied when he was a jock to him – it was a simple relationship with no subterfuge.
He'd never liked Lukas though. He's always been quite vocal – probably quite rightly that the Swedish boy wasn't the right fit for me – despite my protests that I loved the boy. I guess he was right.
I don't think he ever dreamed though that he'd end up being the right fit for me. I think if he'd known that he wouldn't have said anything.
But it's too late now. I let the cat out of the bag on that one royally. And he ran. And now he won't pick-
'Oh please...'
"Noah?"
God please say something. Anything. Shout. Scream. Tell me to leave you alone and never speak to you again. Just anything except this howling silence.
"Noah please... just talk to me..."
I can hear his ragged breathing on the other end of the line so I know he can hear me and he's not just set the cell down. He's there – he just doesn't want to speak to me.
I have nothing left to lose.
"I love you..."
His sobs echo down the line and my heart breaks for him. What have I done?
A/N: There we go – another small excerpt of what started as a ramble yesterday evening. I'm not going to get too involved in this though. I might do a little bit more on it just to bring everything together but I wouldn't imagine it'll go beyond a couple of tens of thousands of words all in.
Thank you to all who gave me suggestions for what to write.
To PteraWaters – I knew because that song has been stuck in my head since Tuesday too! XD
Enjoy.
AND PLEASE – REVIEW REVIEW REVIEW REVIEW REVIEW