Centripetal Force
[VIDEO]
Rational Fear season two! Who's psyched?
Is that even a legitimate question? OF COURSE I'M PSYCHED!
Hsufshgjkshjfhjshfjs It's happening! IT'S HAPPENING!
Oh, Blainers, is that a shower scene I spy? *Swoon*
Hello new phone background…
JFC. KALKDJSFHJAFHJDDFJKDJF COMPREHENSIVE THOUGHT FAILS ME.
Kurt's last days at McKinley somehow managed to pass without incident. He'd long since stopped attending Glee – at Rachel's request and, if he was frank, not having to worry about accusations of 'jumping ship' and 'spying' was kind of nice – and had slowly but surely packed all of his essentials up into boxes ready for the move to boarding school.
He buried himself in advance reading for Dalton and threw himself into the prep work they'd sent over. It wasn't that the syllabus was necessarily that different from McKinley, but the classes were at a higher level and Kurt could tell that they went into everything in greater depth.
Mostly, though, Kurt was just looking for distraction from Blaine.
Kurt wasn't one of those people who needed to be in a relationship. If he was honest, he'd rather be alone than be with someone he didn't feel anything for, so it wasn't like he was feeling starved of affection, but…
It was Blaine.
Blaine who was sweet and a self-professed screw-up when it came to romace. Blaine who called him whenever they both had a free moment. Blaine who sent him one word texts, like courage and resilience and perfect. Blaine whose smile made Kurt's insides twist and turn in this oh-so-teenage-ish way.
Blaine who lived in LA.
Blaine who Kurt missed terribly.
It was like a constant longing – one which ate away at the back of his mind. He always felt like he was missing something important, but couldn't remember what it was, and then Blaine would call and Kurt would hear his voice and, oh God, I missed you.
Lessons at McKinley seemed to just all blend into one. It was no longer about getting through the day to come home and sleep, but about getting through each lesson to call Blaine.
If Burt had noticed the sudden shift in Kurt's life, he didn't comment on it.
Another part of his life that had changed was Finn.
Finn now drove Kurt to and from school every day and, during the fifteen minute car journey, he and Kurt had evolved from their icy standoffishness to something resembling a friendship. Finn would bitch – though he would thoroughly deny it was anything of the sort – about whatever drama crap was going down in the New Directions and Kurt would listen, inserting all the correct platitudes and advice.
And
"Hey Kurt," Finn said as Kurt slid into the car on the morning of his last day at McKinley.
"Morning Finn," Kurt said back with a smile, pausing when he heard the introductory chords of Defying Gravity begin to fill the car. "Did Rachel leave her CD in here or something?"
"What? Oh, no I borrowed it," Finn explained. "I figured that since it's your last day and all, I'd give you a break from all the classic rock."
Kurt laughed. "Oh thank God," he said. "I wasn't going to say anything, but…" He trailed off when he spotted Finn looking at him oddly.
"Kurt." Finn's voice came out oddly strangled. "I'm really, really glad you're OK."
"Me too," quipped Kurt.
"And," Finn began, but stopped immediately afterwards. He took a deep breath. "We're like brothers, right?"
Brothers.
Brothers. It sounded oddly … right.
"Yeah," Kurt breathed. "Of course we are."
"Cool," Finn grinned and Kurt thought, is this one of those important moments? Then Finn turned back to the steering wheel. "Just so you know, you're totally the younger one."
"I'm two months older than you, Finn," Kurt pointed out.
Finn laughed.
Kurt just smiled in return, unable to bring himself to pull a bitch-face.
Last day at McKinley! Wish me luck. Xxx
Blaine was pretty sure there was a humongous grin spread across his face the moment he read the text. In fact, he was certain, because seconds later, someone pointed it out to him.
"You reading porn or something?" asked Wendy from beside him. "'Cause that would cause quite the media stir if it got out."
Blaine quickly locked his phone screen before he shot his best glare at her. "It's moments like these, Wendy, that I wonder why I ever hired you."
That was a lie and they both knew it. Blaine knew exactly why he had hired Wendy and it had nothing to do with her demon-like efficiency, obsessive organisational skills and her freaky proficiency at damage control.
"Don't we all," Wendy laughed. "I sometimes find myself wondering why I ever asked for a job, but then my bank statement arrives and well… I guess it assuages the apprehension."
"Are you trying to tell me I pay you too much?" Blaine raised his eyebrows.
"Oh no," Wendy insisted. "I'm trying to tell you that you pay me adequately." She smiled and turned back to her Blackberry, scrolling through the events planned for today. "So, today you're schedule is pretty tied up with Rational Fear. Whilst you crack on with that, I have an emergency meeting with the crew on Collisions – something about a script change."
"Cutting it a bit close, aren't they?" Blaine mused. "I thought that they'd finalised most of the cast – seems kinda odd, don't you think?"
Wendy sighed and put away her phone. "To be honest, I don't know what this is about," she said. "The pilot script was pretty good in my opinion, but hey, they just said something about demographics and selling and 'a new angle' that they want to work the show from."
Wendy paused, regarding Blaine closely. "Speaking of, I want to ask you, Blaine – are you sure about this? The interview's not until a month's time; we have plenty of time to cancel if you want—"
Blaine cut her off. "I'm sure."
"It's just," she started, but stopped abruptly. "Blaine, you've been pretty tight-lipped about this. I guess I just want to know what's changed."
Blaine pressed his lips together, not sure how to answer.
"I'm only asking, Blaine, because that's going to be the first question out of that interviewer's mouth when they hear about this," Wendy explained.
"I guess I just realised that the reasons I thought I was doing this," Blaine eventually answered, "aren't the real reasons that I have. And I want to change that."
Wendy didn't seem convinced, but she didn't bring it up again. She just sighed – she was getting really good at that – and chivvied Blaine into the car to get to the set. Blaine was kind of happy that she dropped it.
Because he really didn't want anybody to try and talk him out of it.
It had been two weeks.
Two blissful weeks.
It had been really too good to last.
Kurt blinked the tears out of his eyes as he stared at his now bright-blue complexion. Well, it could have been worse, he supposed. At least blue brought out his eyes.
The slushie-facial, however, had almost been worth it for Finn's reaction. The cry of, "What the hell do you think you're doing, asshole?" and the perfectly executed body-slam Finn performed, sending the offending jock straight into a wall of lockers. And, if Kurt choked down a vindictive smile when he saw the jock wince, no one commented.
It was nice, Kurt guessed, to know that he wasn't alone in this anymore.
That didn't make him feel any less bitter about this.
Why? Why now? Why when he was finally feeling accepted – or at least untouchable – when he had finally come to terms with everything, did this have to happen? It was his last day, for crying out loud. Was it too much to ask for one more measly, stupid day of peace and quiet?
As he ran the water in the sink until it was warm, Kurt picked his phone out of his pocket. He didn't know why he did it, if it was out of a need for sympathy, or because he felt like crap and needed to tell someone, but he snapped a picture of himself, the blue ice chunks still dripping off the ends of his hair, and sent it to Blaine.
[PICTURE]
Blue's really my colour, huh?
Blaine's reply was instant, as always.
Oh my God, Kurt! What happened?
Kurt stared at the text on his phone screen for a long time before he eventually typed back a reply.
It wouldn't be McKinley without a classic send-off to the one out kid in this charming little patch of eternal torment.
That's horrible, Kurt. Is that slushie?
There was a large wait before he could reply this time, as he had already dunked his head under the water when Blaine's reply came through.
Raspberry – my favourite. However did they guess?
Kurt, I can't call you right now, because I'm kind of in hair and make-up, but as soon as I get free I'm calling you right away. Oh my God… It's even worse, 'cause I can't even say that I can't believe they did this to you. 'Cause I know how highschool works and, oh my God, whatever they say, Kurt, it means nothing, because you're amazing, OK?
And there. That was it. That was why Kurt had sent Blaine the text. Sure, he was bitter as hell about it. Sure, he felt so, so angry and he wasn't even sure who it was at. Sure, he was alone right now, in the girls' bathroom, trying to clean flavoured corn syrup out of his hair.
But he also had a near perfect boyfriend who somehow always knew what to say.
Kurt took in his drenched reflection in the bathroom mirror. He picked up the phone and wrote his reply.
Blaine, it's fine. I'll be fine. I've dealt with this before.
That doesn't mean you should have to.
It doesn't matter, Blaine. Honestly, I'm fine.
If you say so. I have to go now, but we're talking about this later, OK? Xx
OK.
And Kurt?
Yes?
You move me.
Kurt stared at the phone and then back up at his reflection.
He was a mess. The insides of his ears still had slushie in them, he was pretty sure there was still blue stuff in his eyelashes, and, don't even get him started on his hair, so…
So, why was he smiling?
"Blaine, do you sing?"
Those were the first words out of Wendy's mouth when she picked Blaine up from set after his last scene of the day. Blaine had raised his eyebrows above his cup of – admittedly lukewarm – coffee as Wendy half-dragged, half-led him to her parked car.
Wendy owned a banged up purple Volkswagen, which, all things considered, should not still be running, the rust-bucket that it was. Blaine never really felt all too safe in the car – and it had a crap carbon efficiency rating – but for some reason unfathomable to Blaine, Wendy loved the thing and Blaine was too polite to indicate he felt otherwise too.
"That depends on how you define sing," Blaine hedged warily, shrugging out of Wendy's controlling grip and yanked open the car door.
"When you open your mouth, do you sound like a dying cat?" Wendy asked bluntly. "Or an archangel choir?"
They both slid into the car, slamming the doors shut behind them. Wendy turned the key in the ignition and the engine flared to life, causing the entire car to shake as they pulled out and onto the road.
"Not quite at heavenly level, but I can sing, yes," Blaine admitted, sighing. "But, I don't really…" he paused uncertainly. "I don't really … do that anymore." He shook his head. "Why?"
Wendy hummed thoughtfully, tapping the steering wheel. "Remember what I said this morning about my meeting with the writing-production team for Collisions?"
"Yeah, I remember."
"Well," Wendy continued. "They've completely overhauled the entire pilot script and entirely rejigged the overarching plot of the other episodes. We're talking full-on rewrite here."
Blaine gaped openly at her. "Can they even do that?"
He knew full well the effort that went into a pilot script, having met Jeremy halfway through the older man's first forage into the experience. To rewrite a show that already had backing behind it seemed somewhat foolish and more than a little bit crazy.
"Apparently so," Wendy mused. "Well-written as it was, they didn't think it would sell. Supposedly, they were told by the network to spruce it up and make it more appealing to teenagers – adding a gimmick, so to speak."
That rarely worked, Blaine could say. One of the reasons Rational Fear worked so well was that it was an overall simple concept made complex by the writing and acting. "Gavin Hope grows up," had been what Jeremy called the first season, back before the series exploded. It was a show about disillusionment and harsh realism; no one would ever accuse them of pulling any punches in either the dark humour or the convoluted relationships Gavin cycled through.
Collisions had seemed relatively cheery by comparison.
But Blaine wasn't going to judge. "Like Bucks Fizz with the skirts?" he asked.
"Something like that, I guess," Wendy agreed, but Blaine could tell she had little to no idea what he was talking about. "They've changed the entire plot, though, to fit this gimmick in."
Blaine still hadn't figured out why they would do that – why they would even contemplate doing that. And why was Wendy telling him, unless—
"Did they cut my character or something?"
Wendy tapped her hands against the steering wheel again, peering forward to check the view in front of the car. "Nothing like that," she assured Blaine absent-mindedly. "They still want your character to show up – because, seriously, Blaine, you're hot shit right now. They'd be stupid to write you out of the show. That's not the issue. It's the central plotline. The scripts no longer about Greenpower Clubs. It's about – and get this – show choir."
She said show choir with so much emotion in her tone that Blaine immediately flashed back to Kurt's impression of one of his friends, when he had stood, hands on hips, and shrieked passionately about how there was nothing ironic about show choir!
"Blaine?" Wendy's voice drew him back to the present. Blaine blinked.
"Show choir? Like Glee Club?"
"Yep," confirmed Wendy. "Lots of singing and dancing and show tunes. They're also introducing your character earlier, as well. Originally, you wouldn't appear until episode eighteen, but they've bumped it up to thirteen."
"Oh, OK," Blaine said, because, honestly? He had no idea how to react to any of this news.
When he'd signed up for this whole Collisions malarkey, he'd been fully prepared for everything the role would entail, both for his professional and personal lives. He was supposed to play Andrew Delfraga, a devilishly handsome gay student at the local prep school. Andrew was going to act as a mentor-slash-potential-love interest for Liam, the show's resident gay kid.
Singing, however, had not been in the deal.
Andrew was, and he could quote, 'not too feminine, but not too butch – not obviously gay, but his sexuality is a big part of who he is and he's not hiding it.' Whereas Liam had struggled with his sexuality, Andrew was going to be confident and charming – completely at ease in his own skin.
Still nothing about singing.
Though, it did strike Blaine that if this was the role that had been created specifically for him, this was probably how the public saw him. And he really needed to give Wendy a bonus for that.
Wendy continued obliviously, "Yeah. That was mostly what the meeting today was about. They wanna know if you can sing so they know whether or not to add you to the show choir storyline." She paused. "What do you want me to tell them?"
Blaine sighed. He hadn't really sung at all since… since before Rational Fear. But he could sing. He knew he sounded fine and that he could hit all the right notes, but…
Courage, Anderson.
"Tell them I'm willing to sing for them if they want," Blaine told Wendy, shrugging easily. "I'm happy with whatever they want my character to do."
Wendy smiled. "I'll make a note of it. Anyway, they sent through the revised pilot. I like it better than the old one – oh, and it's got a new title. Collision Course, because of some sort of analogy-slash-metaphor they make in the pilot. They've kind of done a good job, dare I say it, and the whole singing thing works. And the dialogue is a lot sharper. It's kinda like High School Musical meets Veronica Mars with all the snark, just, you know minus all the discussions of rape, murder and parental abandonment."
"Sounds good," Blaine agreed. "Did you pick up a copy for me to flick through?"
Wendy rolled her eyes. "Who do you take me for, Anderson? Of course I picked one up for you. It's in my bag."
Blaine nodded and turned his gaze away from his agent and fixed his eyes upon the shifting scenery out of the window.
He missed Kurt.
Kurt dipped the nail-brush into the pot, coating it in a layer of polish, before drawing it out again and stroking it across his toe-nail. He didn't really have a thing for nail-polish, but it was a nice colour and Mercedes had insisted.
Speaking of his fabulous best-friend, she was currently sprawled over her bed covers, trying very, very hard to guess the passcode on his phone. Part of Kurt was concerned as to what would happen when she figured it out. Mostly, though, he was amused by how frustrated she was getting with it.
"Come on!" she cried as the phone locked her out for a further five minutes. "You can't have just picked random numbers. That's just so un-you, Kurt."
Irritated, Mercedes threw the phone onto her bed and turned to Kurt.
"I don't see why it's so integral to your well-being that you crack my phone, Mercedes," Kurt informed her, stretching out his leg to admire the colour on his toes. "I mean, you know you can just ask me about the guy, right?"
"Of course I can just ask you," Mercedes said, sighing. She flopped back on her bed. "That's not the point."
Kurt raised an eyebrow at her. "And the point is?"
Mercedes opened her mouth to say something, but shortly closed it. "Never mind," she deflected. "I like that colour on you."
Kurt quirked his eyebrows, but didn't push. He let a lot of crap go now, having long since sussed that people cut you more slack about stuff if you were prepared to do the same for them. It was all about give-and-take – a part of his relationship with Blaine which Kurt was still trying to figure out.
Blaine's post-slushie call had been short and concise, but mostly Kurt had just been glad to hear his voice. They'd texted sporadically throughout the rest of the day, each and every word of those tiny messages so very, very Blaine – and Kurt was proud to admit he had finally mastered the art of texting through a pencil case – but the fragmented text conversation really had nothing on seeing Blaine in person.
He meant, sure, he got that Blaine was busy – understood that he had a crazy schedule – but it didn't stop him from missing Blaine like a lost limb.
That, Kurt supposed, was probably why he'd agreed to have one last girly night in with Mercedes, even if it meant he was going to be interrogated within an inch of his life about 'Chandler'.
"So, where did you meet Chandler, anyway?" Mercedes asked him. "I mean, there aren't that many gay guys around in Ohio and you've been confined to the hospital for most of your free time these past few weeks."
"He's not from Ohio," Kurt told Mercedes. "He lives in LA."
"LA?" Mercedes' eyebrows shot up into her hairline. "What on earth was he doing in Ohio?"
"I know," Kurt sighed. "If I ever got out of Ohio, I don't think even the apocalypse could force me back. He had a personal crisis, though. We met at the hospital."
"How romantic," intoned Mercedes dryly.
Kurt sighed happily. "Yeah," he murmured to himself. "It was."
"Oh boy, you are one smitten kitten, aren't you?" Mercedes prodded him playfully. "So, on a scale of one to bed-me-now, how hot is this guy?"
"Oh, Mercedes, he's so very dreamy," Kurt enthused. It felt odd, to be on the receiving end of this talk, instead of talking to Mercedes about her crushes; it was an interesting shift in the dynamic.
"Dreamier than Blaine Anderson?" Mercedes asked, a hint of a smirk tugging at her lips.
Kurt smiled to himself. "Maybe," he said coyly. "I think I'd have to think about that one."
"And does Chandler know about your little ex-crush on Blaine Anderson?" Mercedes teased.
Kurt's response was automatic, almost instinctual. "I didn't have a crush on Blaine Anderson!"
"Really? Well, that's too bad…"
"Mercedes, what did you do?"
"Nothing… Well, I guess I just figured out your phone's passcode."
I just thought you should know that I think Blaine Anderson is the sexiest beast to ever walk the planet. I hope this won't affect our relationship! Xoxo
Kurt?
Ahifhsjdfhsdjgfhgufgh
Fjdkfdaarir
Kurt, I'm getting worried.
Iiiiireuerueutiiteieiidkaskjdaka!""jsdgj09J
This really isn't all that amusing, Kurt.
S
Sorry, Mercedes grabbed my phone. She figured out my passcode. I got my phone back, though, and she's now occupying herself with waggling her eyebrows at me as I text.
So you don't think I'm the sexiest beast you've ever seen? I'm hurt.
Oh, you'll get over it. I mean, for every one of us doubters, you have at least a thousand stalker-fans, who think sliced bread ain't got nothing on you.
I really only care about what you think, though.
Don't let the fanbase know. They might murder me in my sleep out of irrational jealousy.
Would they really? That's just a bit concerning. I like my boyfriend completely un-murdered and in one piece, thank you very much.
Don't worry, sweetheart. They wouldn't get far; I sleep with a pair of blades by my bed.
Now, you see, I'm not sure whether or not I find your previous statement, or that one, more disturbing.
I'll let you decide ;D
What was your phone's passcode, anyway? You really should use random numbers. Harder to crack.
It was… Oh, you're going to tease me.
Probably, but you've just made me more curious :P
Fine. It was your birthday. Happy?
How do you know when my birthday is?
Wait, stupid question.
It's on my Wikipedia page, isn't it?
And on all ninety-eight hundred of your fansites, yes.
Huh. 9800? That's quite a large number.
You're *quite* the famous guy, Anderson.
I'm also quite oblivious it turns out. :P I have to go to bed now – early shoot tomorrow.
Sleep well. Sweet dreams. Xx
You too. Have fun with Mercedes. And look on the bright side, at least I know you're not going to forget my birthday now.
We'll have to see if it gets to that. Goodnight, Blaine.
Goodnight, Kurt.
And, Blaine?
Yes?
You move me too.
God, I miss you so much.
[UNSENT, SAVED IN DRAFTS, 10:53 PM]
Finn was being remarkably sensitive about everything, Kurt noticed later. While the Finn of old tended to blunder around tactlessly, this Finn seemed to actually filter what he said almost religiously. He was an odd cross between relaxed and uptight every second he was around Kurt, like he was wound up so tight he could snap at any point.
It was actually Finn who drove Kurt to Dalton to hand in the final bits of paperwork for his transfer, as neither Kurt nor Burt could drive again yet. He even fetched Kurt some coffee whilst he was making small talk with the lovely old lady behind the secretary's desk at Dalton (her name was Mrs Shrewesbury and she apparently had a grandson just like Kurt. Kurt found that hard to believe; he was one of a kind, really).
It was also Finn who told Rachel to back off when she screeched at Kurt about fraternizing with the enemy. And, it was Finn who practically smashed Karofsky into a locker if he even so much as looked at Kurt. It was Finn who had lectured Mercedes on being mature about Kurt leaving when she accused him of deserting them.
And, when they dropped Kurt's stuff at the dorms, it was Finn who carried all of Kurt's boxes into his new room, including the twenty heavier-than-a-neutron-star ones with Kurt's wardrobe in them. The whole ordeal made Kurt feel kind of useless, but very touched by the gesture all the same.
And then, on Kurt's first day at Dalton, Finn had given Kurt a once-over and then crushed the surprised countertenor into a hug.
"I'm gonna miss you, dude," Finn had sniffed.
"You too," Kurt had stammered out. "Bro," he tacked onto the end.
Finn hugged him tighter.
On_A_ThadDiet: New new-student alert!
StNick: What?
AsianDomination: Seriously?
David-Is-Cool: This can't be right, right?
On_A_ThadDiet: No, my friends, it's legit. He starts tomorrow. Overheard him chatting up the secretary a few minutes ago.
David-is-Cool: Thad, that's sick. Mrs Shrewesbury is sixty-four. And she has grandkids.
On_A_ThadDiet: So you guys don't want the details?
AsianDomination: Of course we do.
StNick: You can't lead in with that and say nothing, Thad.
On_A_ThadDiet: Can't I?
DaJeffster: Stop playing with us, Thad, and spill, or I'm smearing peanut butter over your pillow again.
On_A_ThadDiet: Fine, fine, fine. Brown hair, medium height. Mrs S said he asked about the Warblers. He was kinda cute, too.
David-is-cool: You see, it's comments like that, Thad, that make no-one believe you when you insist you're straight.
On_A_ThadDiet: I have a girlfriend, Thompson. You've met her. I'm just very comfortable in my sexuality.
Courage. Xxx –B
Kurt looked down at the text on his phone, smiling slightly before he flipped it shut and turning his attention back to the task at hand.
"OK, sugar," Mrs Shrewesbury told him, positively beaming at him. "Here's your welcome pack. If you open it, you should find a map of the school, your timetable and your room number and key."
"Thank you," Kurt replied, smiling as widely and innocently as he could.
He was pointedly not looking at the woman's ill-fated clothing ensemble, determined not to make any enemies here on his first day. As much as he'd love to give Mrs Shrewesbury some much needed fashion advice, Kurt could sense that that was probably not the most tactful way to tackle the problem. He had time, anyway. He could always broach the subject with her later.
"No trouble," she said. "If you have any problems whatsoever in your first few days, feel free to drop by and I'll try and help you out."
Kurt gave her his thanks and then turned around and looked at his surroundings.
So.
Here he was. Dalton Academy, Westerville, Ohio. Home to preppy prep school boys and proud owners of a zero-tolerance no harassment policy.
His new home.
The school building alone was enough to intimidate Kurt. Everything about it just reeked of a high income bracket. From the wood panelling on the walls, to the high ceilings, to the gorgeous spiral staircases, Kurt couldn't help but feel as if he was stepping foot into some sort of stately home rather than a school.
Then there were the students, every last one of them so very clean cut and well-kept. A zero-tolerance policy on harassment and bullying didn't mean that everybody would magically accept his sexuality. They were still in Ohio, after all. All the policy really meant was that no one was going to be able to act on their prejudices.
Which, Kurt supposed, was a massive step up from McKinley.
Kurt took a deep breath and pushed open the door to the main school.
The un-tempered level of noise hit Kurt like a slap to the face as the sound of hundreds of hard-soled shoes thundering against wooden floors filled his ears. All around him, blazer-clad boys swarmed up and down the main staircase, every last one of them wearing an identical look of excitement.
It was like there was some kind of manic frenzy about something and Kurt couldn't quite figure out why.
Struggling to keep the intimidated expression off his face, Kurt reached out and tapped the next passing student on the shoulder.
The boy in question had a shock of blond hair and lively brown eyes which gazed at Kurt, politely inquiring. He waited a few seconds before he prompted, "Can I help you?"
"Uh, yes," Kurt stumbled for the right thing to say. Just then, the other boy's eyes widened.
"You're our new student," he exclaimed. "Kurt Hummel, from McKinley High in Lima, right?"
Kurt blinked. "Information spreads fast here I see," he managed to get out.
"I'm Jeff," the student – Jeff – said. "And yeah. Less of a grapevine, more of a bullet train, I'm afraid."
"So," Kurt hedged. "What's going on here? It seems a bit … crazier than I thought Dalton would be."
Jeff laughed good naturedly. "Oh, it's just the Warblers. They're our school's Glee Club. Every so often Wes and David get it into their minds to have an impromptu jam session." Jeff shrugged. "Tends to shut the school down for a while."
"Oh," Kurt said. Glee Club here was cool? Well, he could work with that.
"So, Kurt Hummel, from McKinley High in Lima, Ohio," Jeff went on. "Would you like to watch?"
David-is-cool: New student update: new guy's kinda an ass.
AsianDomination: David…
DaJeffster: Yeah, David. Kind of?
On_A_ThadDiet: Now, now, let's at least give this guy the full credit he deserves. He's an arrogant shithead, not 'kinda an ass'.
AsianDomination: Thad…
StNick: Wes, I don't think they can hear the disapproving edge in your tone through text. And guys, in case you were wondering, Wes has his 'I'm very disappointed in you, children' face on right now.
David-is-cool: I would apologise, but…
DaJeffster: …It's not going to make new kid any less of an arrogant shithead.
AsianDomination: Jeff…
StNick: As much as I would love to take the moral high ground here, I have to agree with the others, Wes. In sentiment, at least, if not language. He kind of walks around like he owns the place and, if I'm honest, I kind of hate how obsessed with his hair he is.
AsianDomination: I feel like I'm talking to myself here.
StNick: In all honesty, Wes, you may as well be for all they're listening.
AsianDominaton: If only I had a virtual gavel…
Jeff led Kurt through a maze of corridors to an open music room, already crowded with boys. Kurt glanced around the room for a CD player, or some instruments, but came up blank.
"We're an a cappella group," Jeff explained.
"Cool," Kurt found himself nodding. "Wait, we?"
Jeff grinned, stepping away from Kurt. "If you'll excuse me…"
He left Kurt at the doorway, walking to the centre of the group, where he began to sing.
"Weekends in bed, no scrambled eggs or bacon, I just have time for you," he sang.
Kurt blinked, just a little bit shocked. Jeff was staring right at him as he sang. Or at least it seemed that way, until another voice rang out behind him. Kurt whipped his head around to see a black-haired boy sauntering in past him, a broad smile pinned to his face as he sang.
"Backs on the grass, heads in the clouds, we close our eyes, enjoy the view," chimed the other boy.
Their voices came together now, "And we don't want to hear the real world passing by, saying that we're crazy…"
It was kind of heart-warming to watch all the other Warblers jump in when the song reached the chorus, belting out in perfect harmony, "We spend all our time, lying side by side, going nowhere – it's really something – getting busy doing nothing."
Jeff and the other boy were staring at each other as they sang, shyly smiling. There was none of that aggressive affection that seemed to be present in nearly every single New Directions duet; instead, it was all very PG-13, Disney movie approved fondness. It was… toned down. Nice.
When they finished the song, and the Warblers burst out into appreciative applause, Kurt found himself joining in. Jeff tugged the other boy up to Kurt after they were done.
"So, what did you think, New Kid?" Jeff asked.
"You guys are great," Kurt enthused. He stuck his hand out to the other boy. "I'm Kurt, by the way."
The other boy smiled and shook it. "I know," he said. "I'm Nick. Nick Duval. Welcome to Dalton."
Kurt smiled back.
David-is-Cool: Wes, we're good friends, right?
AsianDomination: Experience has taught me to be wary whenever you start a conversation with that phrase, but yes, David, that is the case.
David-is-Cool: So, say, theoretically I had a dead body I needed help hiding…
AsianDomination: Sigh. OK, here goes, David.
AsianDomination: Officially, I'd like to remind you of Dalton's strict zero-tolerance policy on harassment. This includes all types of harassment, which in turn includes murder. And, as a good friend, I have to remind you that the legal entanglements from such an activity would be difficult to say the least.
David-is-Cool: Noted.
AsianDomination: Unofficially, we are talking about Mr Arrogant Shithead, right?
David-is-Cool: Who else?
AsianDomination: …
David-is-Cool: Wes?
AsianDomination: Let me get my shovel.
Kurt prodded at his lunch dispassionately, not really feeling up to eating the full-frontal hot meal that Nick and Jeff had selected for him from the day's menu.
After the Warblers' impromptu performance-slash-jam-session had drawn to a close, both Nick and Jeff had attached themselves to Kurt and decided they were going to act as his guardians through the school. This included their idea of the Dalton Academy grand tour – which was admittedly far more helpful than the official tour he'd been given earlier, even if Kurt doubted that he would ever really need any of the discreet places to make-out Jeff had shown him – and their crash course guide to the lunch hall, including what to eat and where to sit.
He was currently sandwiched in between a cheerful black guy, who'd introduced himself as David Thompson, and an Asian guy ("Wesley Montgomery," Jeff had declared, "our fearless leader.") who was friendly, if a bit sanctimonious at times. Jeff and Nick were sat opposite him at the table, far too far into each other's personal space for them to have been anything other than a couple.
They were all painfully nice and polite. It was kind of a culture shock when he compared it to the almost habitual abrasiveness associated with McKinley students. Dalton was very … sheltered by comparison.
And that wasn't necessarily a bad thing.
"So," David said conversationally, drawing Kurt into the discussion. "Why'd you transfer? Not that Dalton isn't a brilliant school, but it must be quite the drive from home, I'd imagine."
Kurt hesitated. "There was," he began, before trailing off. "…An incident at my old school."
Across the table, Nick frowned as he stole a runner bean off Jeff's plate. "You really don't have to tell us if you don't want to," he said reasonably.
For a moment, Kurt considered telling them – not everything, obviously, but about the car crash and about the coma – but he didn't. It didn't seem fair that he'd talk to these people about this when he'd barely told his father the bare bones of what happened.
"It's stupid, because you could probably find out rather easily if you were determined enough," Kurt admitted, "but I'd really rather not, if that's OK?"
"It's fine," Jeff agreed easily, swatting at Nick's hand when the latter went for another piece of food.. "We don't mind."
They sat in awkward silence for a while, before Kurt finally gave up on trying to make it look like he was eating his food and threw his fork down onto his plate.
"So," he said, changing the subject. "How long have you two been dating?" He gestured at Nick and Jeff.
Jeff laughed, moving a slight bit away from Nick. "I suppose we aren't exactly subtle, are we?" he mused. "But it must be... goodness, about a year now. We started going out some time in December last year, didn't we?"
"Mm," Nick hummed in agreement as he chewed on a mouthful of his baked potato. "Sounds 'bout right."
"They're insufferably sweet together," David opined. "I swear, I've had to start brushing my teeth every five minutes whenever I'm around these two, lest my dentist bill goes through the roof."
Jeff grinned, before turning the conversation back to Kurt. "What about you? Any girlfriends waiting back in Lima?" he asked casually.
Kurt raised his eyebrows at him. "Are you seriously asking me that?" he asked dubiously.
"Uh, yes?" Jeff said, but it came out as more of a question. "Did I offend you or..?"
Kurt sighed, shaking his head. "It's not that," he told him. "I'm sorry, it's just… I had something of a … reputation back at McKinley."
"Oh," Wes said from beside Kurt. "I hope it was good. Not, 'that's the kid who set fire to the maths teacher.'"
"It was physics," quipped Kurt without even thinking about it. He sighed, ready to take the plunge. "No, I meant, as That Gay Kid."
"You're gay?" Jeff asked, sounding delighted.
"Along with another ten per cent of the population," Kurt retorted dryly. "But I thought it was pretty obvious…" he trailed off when he saw the completely and utterly maniacal grin on Jeff's face.
"Yes!" the teenager cheered triumphantly, punching his fist in the air. "Pay up, Thompson."
He made a 'hand it over' gesture at David, who just groaned and pulled out his wallet.
"You bet against him on that?!" Kurt asked incredulously as he watched David count out fifty dollars in bills.
"I know right?" Jeff said with a cocky grin, accepting his bounty smugly. "My gaydar is infallible."
"Uh, hello, are we talking about the same person here, Jeff? You didn't notice Nick was gay when even I could see he'd been pining over you for weeks, Jeff," Wes pointed out. "Come on, you have to side with me on this, Nick."
"Whatever helps him sleep at night," Nick said with a shrug which earned him a playful punch in the arm from Jeff.
"So," Kurt felt the need to clarify, "you guys don't care?"
Wes snorted. "Unless you decide to break up Niff, we have no reason to."
Kurt raised his eyebrows. "Niff?"
"Yeah, we earned that 'ship, thank you very much," David declared brazenly. He turned to Kurt to explain. "These two spent so long dancing around each other, the sexual tension was almost unbearable."
"Trust me," Wes affirmed. "We're talking ridiculous. I was this close to locking them in a closet together." Wes held his fingers out barely an inch apart to indicate the distance to Kurt. "If they hadn't kissed when they did, it would have ended in blood, I swear."
"Should I be worried?" Kurt asked amusedly. "I mean, if you two get this invested in your friends' love lives…"
David shook his head, taking on a vaguely traumatised expression. "You weren't there, man," he said his eyes unfocused. "You wouldn't know."
Wes rolled his eyes, but reached across Kurt to pat David comfortingly on the shoulder. "It's OK, David. It's over now." He turned back to Kurt. "So, no, we really don't mind if you're gay. I've had more straight guys drunkenly make out with me at parties than gay ones, so it's really no big deal."
David sat up straight. "Hey, that was one time, Wes!" he shouted. "You said you'd let it go!"
As much as Kurt wanted to sit there and watch Wes and David bicker over what sounded like a fascinating tale of drunken sexual experimentation, he was drawn away from the conversation by the sound of his phone going off with a text.
It's my lunch break. Call me maybe? Xx
Kurt read the text, unable to stop the high-wattage smile that wormed its way into his expression.
"Oh, I know that look," David grinned, snatching the phone away from Kurt with ease. "Who's Chandler, Kurt?" he asked, reading the text. "And why does he want you to call him maybe?" His eyes glinted as he started to sing, "Hey, I just met you—"
"Give that back," Kurt ordered, trying to reach for his mobile. David danced out of his reach, flicking through his phone to see his history.
"And this is crazy—" David leapt to the side as Kurt lunged right at him. "Man," he crowed. "This guy is like the only person you've called for the past week."
"Come on, give it back," Kurt whined, throwing himself at David, who once more dodged him with razor-sharp agility.
"Well, I've found his number," David mused, his finger hovering over the call button. "So I guess I'll call him may—oomph!"
Kurt threw himself on top of David, grappling with the older boy and trying to wrestle the phone out of his grasp. David wasn't giving in easily, though, and resisted Kurt with all his strength, holding the phone just out of Kurt's reach as he hit dial.
The call went through.
"Kurt?"
The gathered company all froze at the sound of the voice. Kurt used the distraction to snatch his phone back and press it to his ear.
"Sorry, I'm here," he rushed out, glaring at the other boys. "No, that was just some … friends messing around with my phone."
Kurt gathered himself up off the floor and glared once more at the boys before he ducked out of the room for some privacy.
David, Wes, Jeff and Nick all stared after him. It was Nick who eventually broke the silence.
"Well, that friendship was nice while it lasted," he stated.
I don't think I've said this yet, but thank you.
It's no problem, Blaine. Seriously. What are friends for?
Blaine? You still there?
I don't really have many friends.
Well, you've got me. Remember?
I remember. Thank you once again.
Look, it's no trouble, really.
No, I don't just mean for that. For Wendy, as well. And being there.
That wasn't trouble, either. Now, go get some sleep. It has to be nearly 4am there.
Thank you.
Cut that out.
"So, how's Dalton?" Blaine asked when Kurt had found himself a deserted alcove.
"Different," Kurt said. "Very, very different."
"Oh, that sounds ominous," Blaine said. "Wanna talk about it?"
"Oh no," laughed Kurt. "It's not bad-different, or good-different, really, just different." He pursed his lips, trying to think of the best way to phrase it. "It's all very … preppy."
"I do remember thinking something to the same effect after my first day," Blaine laughed down the phone. The sound made Kurt's heart leap into his throat. "So, wanna know what happened during filming today?"
"Do I want to know about this, Blaine? Spoilers, you know."
"Not really a spoiler," Blaine told him. "More of a preview. Anyway, we spent about half an hour on this shower scene—"
"You mean the nation is going to get to see my boyfriend shirtless before I do?" Kurt teased, feigning hurt.
"Can I finish the story?" Blaine asked in false annoyance. "So, I'm under this jet of water, and the cameras are rolling, and I'm completely in character, and I'm absolutely nailing this shower scene—"
"Well, they do say you can brood anywhere," Kurt interjected cheekily. "Sorry, continue."
"As I was saying, I'm in the shower, when Beatrice – she plays Sally on the show – thinks it will be hilarious to cut the hot water off halfway through a take. So, I'm there angsting away, half-naked in front of all these cameramen, when all of a sudden the water turns freezing cold."
Kurt bit his lip. "What did you do?"
"What do you think I did?" Blaine asked. "I shrieked like a girl and jumped about a foot backwards from the jet of water." He sighed. "They got it all on film, too. I think it's going to end up in the outtakes section of the DVD."
Kurt snickered, trying and failing to shield the phone from the sound.
"Go on, Kurtie-boy, laugh it up," Blaine sniffed. "We'll see what happens when someone does it to you."
"Are you inviting me into your shower, Mr Anderson?" Kurt gasped down the phone. "How very forward of you."
Blaine laughed down the phone, a full, throaty sound. Keep it together, Hummel. You will not swoon. You will not swoon.
"As much as I would love to continue down this line of conversation, Wendy is giving me the evil eye through the window." Blaine sighed. "I'll call you later, OK?"
"OK," Kurt sighed, glancing at his watch. He should probably start to get ready for class after lunch. "I should probably go too."
"Have fun in your classes and don't snark at the teachers too much. They aren't used to you yet."
"I'll try."
"And Kurt?"
"Yes?"
"You move me."
The line cut off before Kurt could reply.
Blanderson to play "other roles"
So, these past few days, Blaine Anderson (Rational Fear) has been dropping countless hints about "a new project [he's] really excited about." Ever since the actor famously came out in a youtube video (Courage, found here) there has been speculation as to whether or not his future career would be helped or hindered by the ballsy move, despite the teen's steadfast refusal to speak on the subject or anything relating to it.
Well, now the verdict's in. It seems the former is the case, as Blaine now tells us that he's going to be picking up a part on the up-and-coming drama, Collision Course.
The pilot of Collision Course is set to hit our TV screens in the early days of the new year, having rolled into shooting earlier this week. We don't know much about the drama, except that it's classified as a dromedy, and that Blaine will be appearing in it, playing a part "very, very different to Gavin Hope."
In a statement released to the press earlier this week, Blaine revealed that this is something he's really looking forward.
"Don't get me wrong," he told us. "I love playing Gavin. Rational Fear is a fantastic coming of age story about growing up and into yourself – about finding inner strength – and Gavin is a brilliantly written character, but you can't deny that he's all kinds of messed up. I mean, who can blame him, but you must have noticed how many scenes there are when I'm just brooding in various locations. That doesn't cut down in season two, by the way."
Oh yes, Blaine, we know. We've all seen the shower scene. Some more than others.
"My character on Collision Course, however," Blaine continued, "is different to that. I can't tell you much about him, lest I spoil it, but you'll know when you see him. He's a completely different type of role model. I can't wait to get stuck in to filming."
And I, personally, can't wait to see Blaine out of his comfort zone in terms of acting. I mean, we still get shower scenes, even if he's not brooding in them, right? And, much as I love Rational Fear, I can't wait to see how Blanderson handles a character that doesn't move between angst and more angst.
From Inside-Out-Upside-Down, written by OgreEight, posted 2010.
OK, it was official.
Kurt Hummel was completely and utterly, beyond doubt, without confusion, lost.
The hallways of Dalton had all long since started to look the same and Kurt had yet to come across anyone he could ask for directions. Five minutes ago, he'd been convinced he'd found the dining room, only to fling open the doors and find a room full of whirring CPUs and motherboards. Not his finest moment.
There weren't any signs, either and it was starting to seem to Kurt like Dalton had a completely random system for numbering their rooms.
So, he was understandably pretty relieved when he spotted another student sat on one of the window seats, face buried in a book.
"Hey," Kurt said, approaching the boy. "I'm looking for the lunch hall – could you point it out to me?"
The student didn't lower his book. "New kid?" he asked disinterestedly.
"Uh," Kurt said, not sure how to handle the dismissal. "Yeah. Sorry about this."
"I'm new too," said the student, "and navigating these hallowed halls is pretty easy. You must be all kinds of special to get lost."
He still hadn't looked up from the book. Kurt flexed his fingers, biting down on the urge to spit something sharp and insulting back at him.
"Look it's my first day," Kurt said, struggling to keep his voice even. "So, I really would appreciate some help, if you could get off your arrogant arse long enough to pluck out the stick stuck up there and actually act like a decent person for five seconds."
Oops. So much for an even tone. "Uh, sorry," Kurt stammered immediately afterwards. "I'll go."
But the student had finally lowered his book, and was now raking his eyes up and down Kurt's form appreciatively. It kind of made Kurt feel like he wanted to scrub his own skin raw with bleach.
"Oh no," drawled the student. "Don't apologise. That was pretty hot, actually." He smiled a smile so salacious Kurt was pretty sure it could deflower innocent girls all on its own. "You are?"
Kurt felt like he was making a deal with the devil as he stuck out his hand. "Kurt Hummel."
The other student grasped it, a smirk already toying with the edge of his lips, like there was something so deliciously ironic about this meeting. Kurt felt insecure, objectified and lost all at once.
"Sebastian Smythe."
Oh my goodness. This is such a long chapter. I just wrote and wrote and wrote. There are some things I like about it, but overall, I'm somewhat dissatisfied with it. But hey, it was a bitch to write, so I'm posting it now.
And the song the Warblers do is "Busy" by Olly Murs. I don't actually know it Americans have even heard of him, but he's kind of a big deal over here, and his music strikes me as very Warbler-y. So, drop me a review - tell me your favourite thing this chapter so I know what I'm doing well and what I'm crap at.
You guys should be flattered. You're getting this chapter before S&C, so you better appreciate it lest I think you're all ungrateful and what not.
Oh, here's a fun question: do Americans actually use the word malarkey? 'Cause I do. But then again, I also say things like 'argy-bargy' and 'hanging around the opium dens' in everyday conversation, so, you know.
-Kaputt
PS: All ye fearless reviewers, you make my day (and week) so keep it up, please!
PPS: I'm no longer studying mechanics, so the physics references may pick up in the next few chapters as I start to go into withdrawal. :(
PPS: (I should stop now) WE BREACHED 20,000 WORDS!