The angst is almost over! Thanks for the reviews – I love you all! :)
Chapter six
3rd July 2016
Hi, this is Kurt Hummel. I am currently unable to answer my phone and so I would ask if you could please leave a message and I will try to get back to you. Unless I deem you significantly less fabulous than me, in which case I will probably ignore you. Oh – and if this is Blaine Anderson, I'm definitely not going to call you back so don't ask me to. Thanks for calling, hopefully – for your sake – you'll hear from me soon!
Beeeeeeeeeep.
"Kurt? Kurt, please. You can't keep ignoring me. We were friends once, right? Listen…so much has happened. I've changed so much of my life to get you back. I'd appreciate a little recognition for it, please. Oh, crap, that sounded arrogant." A sigh. "Look, just call me, please?"
Beeeeeeeeeep.
"Listen, Kurt, I've realised a lot of things without you around. I'd like to tell you some of the things I've found out…please? So, call me, yeah?"
Beeeeeeeeeep.
"I'm lost without you, Kurt, you're my best friend and I need you around. I know you've decided you're better off without me but I'm not, Kurt. You hold me together, you know that. So, please. You know what I'm going to ask."
Beeeeeeeeeep.
"Okay, this is the last message, I promise. One last plea? Call me, please, Kurt. We need to talk about this – you can't just walk out of my life and act like you were never in it because you were! You were – you still are – a huge part of my life. I need you. Please?"
Beeeeeeeeeep.
"I lied. This is it, though, I swear. You're my everything a thousand times over. There is not a thing I wouldn't do for you and I'm calling because I need to talk to someone – not someone, you. You're the only person I want to talk to and conveniently you're the only person not answering my calls! Care to rectify that? I thought not. Come on, Kurt. Cut me some slack here. I need you, I miss you, I love you, I want you. There. I said it – and now the power is in your hands. I'll stop calling, God knows you probably want me to. Please, just call me. Even if it's just to yell at me for clogging up your answer phone. Please. I love you."
Blaine was starting to see Kurt's name and face everywhere – but this was worse because it wasn't even a figment of his own imagination. Kurt was successful, so successful – Blaine always knew he would be. His new design label was incredibly coveted, expensive and loved by all. But Blaine could do without the billboards plastered with Kurt's face. It made it all so much harder.
It was unseasonably cold that summer. Blaine had a sneaking suspicion that the weather was mocking him. Everything, so he'd discovered, was colder without Kurt around.
He couldn't listen to music anymore. He couldn't write songs, he couldn't draw, he couldn't smoke, he couldn't talk, he couldn't think. Nothing was clear or easy or obvious the way it had been when Kurt was around.
Nothing felt natural anymore – everything was forced.
Blaine had to paint colours into the world because all of the already-existing ones had turned to grey. And it was tiring – God, was it tiring. Everything had fallen out of sync and the things that normally had a certain kind of clarity about them were blurred and unclear.
Blaine realised after a long period of searching that he was finally starting to blur the lines between his and Kurt's dream world and reality. And he was doing it alone.
Kurt Hummel discovered a lot of things in his time apart from Blaine. One, that he was able to say the word 'no'. Two, that there were other people in the world except for Blaine Anderson. The latter came as more of a shock.
Also, he could have fun. He didn't have to be the responsible one and look after Blaine anymore. He could have one night stands and not feel guilty. He could look at, kiss, touch other guys without feeling like he was cheating on Blaine.
And his fashion was a huge success. Kurt had finally been able to show his designs to his boss and had been promoted to a designer within a matter of minutes. Then, he'd been promoted to head designer in a matter of months. His designs had bought in record-breaking profits and he'd even branched out into his own label – Pavarotti, with the motto that fashion has no gender. It was one of the quickest selling brands of the century, so he'd been told.
Everything was going right.
But he'd be lying if he said he didn't miss Blaine. He did – every day he missed him. There was so much he wished he could tell him and with every voicemail Blaine left it got harder and harder not to call him back.
But he wasn't ready yet. He promised himself that he would be soon.
"There had better be a good reason for this!" Kurt growled, grabbing the phone from his nightstand and putting it to his ear. "You know it's 2 in the morning? Who the hell is this? I swear, if you're trying to sell me double glazing…"
"Kurt," Blaine slurred, "th-they put me away, Kurt, 'm in prison, they're gon' put me in away f-for a long, long time if…th-they told me to call someone, Kurt, a-and I wanted you. I've aaaaaaaalways wanted you. C-could you come get me? I want to make love to you."
Kurt froze. He'd never heard Blaine this drunk before – especially not with those kind of requests. "If I come get you will you promise not to have sex with me? Especially not in front of the prison guards."
"M'kay. Sounds gooood – 'm at the police station j-just down town. Th-the one that you said had…had poor ark-architectural qualities. Y'know?"
Kurt let out a small laugh, pressing a hand to his mouth instinctively to muffle it. "Yeah, Blaine. I know. Look, I don't know if I'll be able to –" And then he stopped himself. This was his friend, after all. "Okay. Be with you in half an hour, tops."
"M'kay, love you."
Kurt pushed through the double doors of the police station and flew in a fury to the front desk. "I'm here to collect Blaine Anderson." He said with an air of grace that implied that they should already know exactly why he was here.
The prison guard blinked, recognising him instantly. "Mr Kurt Hummel, sir, of course, sir…right this way, er…sir." He scooted out from behind the desk and practically ran down the hallway to where Blaine was being held.
"What was he arrested for?" Kurt asked, following closely behind the prison guard.
"Er, anti-social behaviour, sir…I think he was on a night out and he got into a bit of a fight, someone called us when it got out of hand. But he didn't do any harm, so he's free to go with you if you say he's safe, sir." The prison guard informed him.
"Thank you very much," Kurt said, sincerely.
The prison guard – Norman, his name tag informed Kurt – turned in his tracks suddenly. "Listen, sir, I know this sounds a bit rude but would you maybe…well, my wife loves you and I was wondering if maybe I could have your autograph?"
Kurt smiled – asking for autographs never got old. "Of course, I would be delighted." A piece of paper and pen were already being pushed into his hands and so he obliged. "What's your wife's name?" He asked.
"Eliza."
Kurt finished the autograph quickly, smiling as he returned the paper to Norman, who beamed at him. "Thank you very much, sir."
"It's no problem," Kurt assured him. He had a sudden idea. "Hey, listen," he said, unwinding the scarf he was wearing from round his neck, "this is from my new collection that has yet to be released. Think your wife would like it?"
Norman's eyes grew wide in his head. "Oh my, yes, but I couldn't, sir! I couldn't possibly accept it."
"Of course you possibly could!" Kurt told him, smiling and pressing the scarf into Norman's hands. "Take it, go on. It's not like I'll have to go out and buy another one!"
"Thank you, sir, thank you so much!" Norman said, looking at the scarf in awe.
"Like I said, not a problem. Now, can you take me to Blaine?" Kurt asked, grinning at how happy he seemed to have made the prison guard.
"Of course, sir. Are you a family relation?" Norman asked, conversationally.
"No…friend, sort of. We used to be a bit of an item…but then we weren't and honestly, it's too complicated to get into." Kurt said, sighing.
"Well, off the record, he's been telling anyone who'll listen for the past hour that he's madly in love with you and always has been. His requests have gotten rather graphic as well," Norman blanched, clearly uncomfortable.
"That sounds like Blaine," Kurt told him, smiling, "don't worry, I'll take him home and in the morning he'll be grossly embarrassed about everything he's said."
"Don't let him forget," Norman said, suddenly, "don't, sir. He clearly means it now – why not in the morning? Sorry, but it's plain as day from the way you rushed down here and the look on your face that you're head over heels for him and if the last hour is any indication, then he clearly reciprocates. Doesn't seem that complicated to me."
Kurt just shrugged. "He's drunk. He'll say anything. I guess. We'll see." They had come to a halt. "Is this his cell?"
"The very one," Norman said, pushing the bars back with a clang, revealing a very dishevelled and clearly intoxicated Blaine, who was sat cross legged on the cell floor, singing Teenage Dream. He looked up at the sudden noise and on seeing Kurt, rushed haphazardly to his feet, running across the cell and into Kurt's arms.
"Kurt, I m-missed you!" Blaine was crying into his shoulder, so wrapped up in the feel and smell of Kurt that he wanted to cling to his friend forever. "You came…" he said, pulling away, grinning through his tears, "you came back for me."
"I'll always come back for you," Kurt promised, tears welling in his own eyes. Blaine just smiled wider at this and buried his head in Kurt's shoulder again. "Can I take him home?" He asked Norman, who was shuffling his weight between his feet, averting his eyes from the pair to give them some privacy.
Norman nodded, looking up at Kurt. "Of course, sir. Go right ahead, he's free to go. Look after him, yeah?"
Kurt gave a little salute, smiling. "Will do. Nice to meet you, Norman."
"You too, sir. And thanks for the autograph and scarf – my wife really is a huge fan!" He told Kurt, grinning.
"Glad to hear it," Kurt replied, taking Blaine by the hand and leading him away from the cell. Once they were out into the fresh air, Blaine stopped abruptly. Kurt gave him a questioning look.
"Sobering," Blaine explained, though he wasn't slurring anymore. Kurt imagined that being inside a prison cell would have been done the job.
"Come on, I've got water in the car." Leading Blaine over, Kurt opened the door and leant inside, pulling out a bottle of water and handing it to him.
"You've got a new car," Blaine noted through a mouthful of water.
"My old car was a dump; this is more…professional," Kurt gestured to the navigator.
"It's the same one you had in high school." Blaine said, finishing the water and putting the bottle in a nearby bin.
Kurt just smiled and got into the car, Blaine following suit.
"Where are we going?" He asked, after a few minutes.
"We are going on a drive and you are going to tell me why you got so intoxicated you ended up in a prison cell and why you look like a tramp." Kurt replied, matter-of-factly. It was true; Blaine did look like a tramp. His hair was longer than Kurt would ever have allowed and his clothes were dirty and frayed.
Blaine blinked slightly, taken aback by Kurt's boldness. "I…I got dropped by my record label."
Kurt gave a little gasp. "What? Why? Are they deaf?" He paused for a second. "Oh no, did the manager guy dump you?" He knew he had failed in trying to sound apologetic.
"No…well, yes, I broke things off with him. But I couldn't hide anymore, Kurt. I just – just kept thinking about what you said and you were so right." Kurt couldn't argue with that. "Do you have any more water?" Blaine asked, suddenly.
Kurt handed him another bottle from the side pocket. "You didn't want to lie about being gay, you mean?"
Blaine nodded profusely, gulping more water. "Y-yeah. I didn't want to pretend anymore. I couldn't. I'm so proud of who I am. I wouldn't change that for the world. So the money stopped coming in."
Kurt gave a little groan. "Blaine, where are you living?"
"Well…I was living with my parents for a while."
"So you left a job that made you hide who you were to go live with two people who you have to hide your sexuality from on a daily basis?" Kurt asked, incredulously.
"I told them," Blaine mumbled.
The car swerved suddenly. "You did what?" Kurt shrieked. "You told them? Oh my God, Blaine, why didn't you tell me?"
"Oh, wait, let me see. How the hell could I tell you Kurt? You dropped me, remember? You wouldn't return my phone calls or texts or emails or anything!"
Kurt felt his heart constrict. "I guess…I'm sorry, Blaine."
"No," he shook his head, "I understand why you did it. I just wish you hadn't. But things are better now, right?"
"Nearly," Kurt replied, smiling. "So what happened with your parents?"
"They kicked me out immediately. Cut off my money supply. Threw me out onto the streets." Blaine told him, voice monotone.
"Oh my God," Kurt breathed, "and now you're, what, homeless?"
"Sorta. I've been shacking up with people I meet in clubs. I…it's a way of survival, Kurt," Blaine said quickly, on seeing his friend's look of disapproval.
"I can't believe I let this happen to you," Kurt said, after a minute of silence, "I'm so, so sorry."
"It's not your fault. If anything, it's my own." Blaine replied, mouth twitching into a half-smile that he tried to make look convincing.
"Don't say that Blaine. No one deserves this – not even you," Kurt quipped, making Blaine smile properly this time.
"Ah, so there you are. I – I see your face all the time."
Kurt gave him an astonished look. "Blaine, don't you think that's a bit creepy? Maybe you should see a doctor or…"
"No, I meant on billboards!" Blaine replied, tartly. And in my dreams…
"Oh," Kurt let out a relieved sigh, laughing a little, "thank God! I mean, I would have been flattered but the way you said it was a little…weird."
"You've done really well, Kurt. I – I'm really proud of you." Blaine said, sincerely.
"Thank you," Kurt replied, blushing slightly, "things are going well, I suppose."
"I always said they would." Blaine smiled.
"I know, I just never believed you," Kurt admitted, grinning back. "I've missed this," he blurted out.
"Me too," Blaine responded, immediately, giving a huge yawn around the words.
"Go to sleep, Blaine," Kurt instructed, "It's 3 in the morning."
"M'kay. Night, Kurt. Love you." His eyes slid shut.
A while later, he was vaguely aware of voices, though his subconscious didn't let him drift back into being to answer them.
"Listen, Wes, David, I need you to take him in." That was definitely Kurt.
"Of course, Kurt," ah, Wes, "that's fine…it's been too long anyway. Put him down here."
Blaine felt his body drop slightly onto something soft – a sofa, he would guess. He curled into it, sighing as he felt a hand stroke his hair. A gentle kiss was pressed to his forehead and the whisper of words ghosted past his ear. "I love you," Kurt told him.
And then everything returned to black.
Kurt crawled back into bed at 5, trying to ignore the fact that he had to get up in an hour. He pulled the duvet over his body and rolled over.
"What was it, love?" Nick mumbled, half-asleep. Kurt felt arms wrap around his waist and sighed into the embrace, curling into his boyfriend's chest.
"No one, go back to sleep." Kurt instructed, taking his own advice for once.
Don't hate me! Next chapter will have HUUUGE Kurt/Blaine fluff, I promise! :)
If you want the next chapter up soon, leave me a review and say so!
TBC…