Chapter Twenty-Two: The One with Blaine's Song
XXI: I'd never ask you 'cause deep down, I'm certain I know what you'd say. You'd say I'm sorry, believe me, I love you... but not in that way.
The apartment is eerily quiet tonight. It's only 8pm, but it's already dark out, and there's a distinct lack of people in their little abode. Customarily, there is a stream of people flowing in and out of the kitchen area, with her roommates coming and going, the boys knocking over and them going over to the guys. It's unusual to sit in silence.
She doesn't mind it. Quinn paints her nails slowly, attempting the immaculate look, but she's never been good at it. Rachel, the perfectionist, bless her heart, always has an impeccable set of nails. To be fair, she sits for an hour at the kitchen table, patiently blowing on them with all the care of a mother with their newborn.
Quinn doesn't have the same patience.
Tonight, the only reason the apartment is empty is because there's an open night in the café. Brittany is working, of course, but all their friends also attended. Brittany is insisting on reading one of her poems "Fondue for Two", which apparently, was a skit she did with her cat when she was a teenager. Quinn wonders how she ever even became friends with someone as eccentric as Brittany. They're so starkly different, but Quinn can't help but love the girl dearly.
Rachel is actually in Las Vegas, of all places. Armed with the most bizarre story Quinn has heard in a while, Rachel set off with her boyfriend across the country. He buys her two tickets to Las Vegas, a week ago, for Valentines? It's an odd choice. She tries to understand it, to figure out his ulterior motives, but ultimately comes up dry.
She's meeting with Sam tonight, they're going to dinner. It's a new place beside where Sam lives apparently, and he's been wanting to try it for weeks. Of course, the dry funds spell of January had prevented it, but now that they're back in business, Quinn is looking forward to it.
She hears the door opening and glances up, surprised to find Puck waltz in. They really need to begin locking the door. "Hey, how come you're here?"
Quinn sees his face them, sombre and serious, and becomes instantly worried. "Puck, did something happen? Is everyone okay? Why do you look like that?"
"No, everything's fine," He gestures for her to stay sitting, and takes the seat across from her. Fidgeting with his hands in a way that is so uncharacteristic, Puck looks around the room. "Some real good times in this place."
He's scaring her now. "Are you dying?"
He laughs, "What? No. Stop being dramatic, will you? Berry's the only one that pulls it off. Look, I just wanted to say that.. that I'm glad we're friends."
Her gaze softens, a smile worms its way onto her features. A smile that she couldn't prevent, even if she wanted to. She touches his hand, "I know, so am I. We're lucky to have each other."
He glances at her hand, "Yeah." He wets his lips, still staring at their hands, and appears tormented by something. "What—what I said that time… On Christmas Eve. You remember?"
Quinn withdraws her hand slowly, a different kind of fear wrapping itself around her heart, "I remember."
Puck finally looks at her, and she almost wants to memorise the look on his face – it's so rare to find him being so serious. "I need to clear the air on it. I was drunk… I didn't mean it. You're in a relationship with Sam… You love Sam.." He says the last part quietly, as if he's speaking to himself.
"I do." Quinn replies, not half as firmly as she wishes.
He nods, "I know that. I want you two to be happy. I'm loving the bachelor life – the whole Beth thing, coupled with too many drinks, it made me say things I didn't mean. I panicked and… and I'm sorry."
Despite the sensation of how wrong this all feels, Quinn forces a laugh, "Can I record this?"
"You do and I'll be forced to take drastic measures." Puck jokes back, clearly appreciating the lighter tone to the conversation. Neither of them is used to soberly discussing their feelings anymore. It takes them back to times that are largely left forgotten.
Forgotten – ignored, it's the same, right?
There's a knock on the door then, and Quinn starts, "Shit, that must be Sam,"
"Shit? Look, it's cool, I'll answer the door and—"
"No." She hastily cuts in, earning a surprised look from Puck. "I'll answer the door. You… You just sit here."
Quinn fixes her hair hurriedly, even though it's quite unnecessary, and approaches the door. Flattening out her dress, nervous for reasons she can't pinpoint, she reaches for the door handle. Before she opens it, she turns to Puck.
"Noah?" He looks up from his phone, questions in his gaze. Quinn smiles softly, "Thank you."
He returns her smile, but she can't help but think it's not the one that usually greets her on a daily basis.
The year may not have started on the note that Kurt had hoped for – snogging Blaine senseless – but he's pleased at where he's at right now. His living situation, his college friends, his college projects and every aspect of his life except for romance; they're all great. Kurt's hopeful for the year ahead, he wants to believe that things are taking a turn for the better with him.
Save for a little pain here and there, Kurt has mostly recovered from the accident in December. He long ago lost any anger or bitterness over it – probably the day after, to be quite honest. He was never overly upset or angry at Finn, which made no sense at all, but it's the best outcome that there could have been. Despite that, he knows he hasn't been a good friend to anyone lately. He's ashamed to say Blaine's rejection hit him harder than it should have.
It was meant to be a passing fancy, but judging by his long-term suffering, it's a little bit more. Kurt isn't so foolish as to say he's in love with Blaine, but it's definitely more than a crush. He tries not to think about it. There's no point, right? He doesn't have to see the man half as much anymore, so he can just pretend it never happened.
He needs to pretend it never happened. Kurt wants to be a friend to the others again, he wants to participate in conversations and nights out, to offer advice and laugh at their ridiculous antics. They are ridiculous people, after all. They're lucky Kurt offers up his pearls of wisdom and bestows pity on their flailing ideas.
Tonight, they're all sitting in the café, watching an array of people stand and make fools of themselves. Open mic night is always so amusing. There's an elevated section of the flooring that the staff try to make look like a stage, and it does the job well enough. He claps and laughs along with everyone else at the latest failing comedian. Kurt can't help but laugh – it's such a horrible, awkward time when no one does.
His phone vibrates in his pocket, and Kurt looks to see that he has a snapchat from Rachel. Knowing he's going to feel jealous, Kurt opens it anyway, and can't help but smile at the bright lights of Vegas. She and Jesse are standing in the middle of it all, her in a cute, white, flaring dress and him in slacks and a shirt. The selfie is taken rather masterfully as she captures both them and the scenes behind them. He supposes Rachel should be good with all the practice she has.
Her instagram is like a daily selfie book.
"Oh my god, Blaine!" Kurt, who has been ignoring his friends chatter up till now, snaps to attention at the name. Brittany throws her arms around him, thanking him animatedly for coming. She asks him if he wants a drink, and then runs to retrieve the latte. Kurt swallows the large lump in his throat, but swallowing has suddenly become difficult, and it results in a coughing fit.
To his utter humiliation, he begins coughing violently, almost heaving up his dinner. Finn pats him on the back, "Are you okay, man? Here, have some water,"
Kurt grabs the glass and gulps it down greedily, thankful for Finn's surprisingly quick thinking. Although, perhaps it's not that genius to offer a drink to someone coughing. He might be giving him too much credit.
With the coughing finished, he breathes deeply, calming his erratic heart. Finally, he glances up, and his eyes catch Blaine's. Upon being discovered staring, Blaine's eyes dart away. Kurt sighs.
This isn't what he needs tonight.
Nevertheless, the night progresses rather nicely after that. Blaine remains on the other side of their group, and Kurt chats with Finn and Santana for the night. Santana and he aren't the same as they were, but they're trying, and he knows she's trying. That makes a huge difference.
Finn is asking for ideas for his glee club, with nationals quickly approaching, but he's pleading with a lost cause here. Santana and Puck take turns making the worst and most ludicrous suggestions possible, entertaining only each other. Finn grumbles, telling them what shitty friends they are, and returns to his coffee - or whatever Brittany had decided to bring him.
"You should have known these were the wrong people to ask," Kurt grins, "You were practically asking for it."
"Fuckin' Problems," Puck spouts out, followed by him and Santana laughing uproariously at it.
Santana puts her hand on his arm, calming them both, "No, no, it has to be Bitch Suck Dick,"
They fall in around in fits of giggles again. Kurt rolls his eyes, "So basically, let's name all the rap songs, ever."
Puck sobers up, quickly followed by Santana, "Hey, not all rap songs are about sex,"
"Yeah, some are really meaningful," Santana adds, being one of the few people in the group to share Puck's affinity with rap music.
Kurt looks at them sceptically, "Forgive me if I don't see the hidden meaning in 'Niggas in Paris'."
Before an argument can erupt between them all, Finn tells them all to shut up. Of course, it's never that easy, and all three of them begin to say something disparaging in return when Finn nudges Kurt, "No, seriously, shut up – Blaine is on stage."
The effects on Kurt are instantaneous; his eyes fly to the stage, fervently seeking out the dark-haired man. It isn't hard to find him, Blaine sits calmly behind a keyboard that Kurt assumes he brought along. He doesn't seem perturbed by the audience or the attention as his fingers begin to hit the keys.
He thinks he imagines that Blaine's eyes meet his for a moment too long.
Then he starts to sing. Kurt swears the café has never been so quiet; the entire place slowly filters all noise out. One by one, people begin to notice; begin to listen. There's a kind of mesmerising tranquillity in what's happening, and he tries to imprint the moment in his memory, because it would be a catastrophic shame to forget it. He doesn't think he could if he tried, anyway. This will haunt his dreams for months, he thinks.
Kurt risks a glance to his friends. Each and every one of them is staring at Blaine, all thoughtful, all probably thinking different things, but along the same vein. The song is beautifully tragic, one that Kurt has only heard once or twice playing from Quinn's room. He recognises it only in that capacity, and can't help but wish he knew it better. He distantly hears Santana ask Brittany to go outside with her, but he can't quite pay attention.
As the chorus kicks in, he looks straight at Kurt. He thinks he can feel the blood freeze in his veins, even though his heart keeps on pumping, the pace getting faster, faster, faster and he tries to gain control but he can't and all he can do is sit and let his body react in erratic ways to this wonderful man.
And I told you to be patient, and I told you to be fine.
And I told you to be balanced, and I told you to be kind.
And now all your love is wasted, well who the hell was I?
'Cause I'm breaking at the britches, and at the end of all your lines.
Kurt can't be imagining this. It isn't all in his head, Blaine is really looking at him, it's almost as if.. as if he's singing to him. As he sings "end of all your lines", his eyes roam elsewhere, and Kurt instantly feels the warmth of his gaze leave. He feels breathless, though he hasn't moved one inch. There's too much going on, there's too much magic in the moment that Kurt feels like if he moved even one iota, it would all come crashing down around him.
The place erupts into a deafening applause when he finishes. People are whistling, cheering and there's even a girl in the corner standing on her chair. Blaine appears humbled by the whole experience, bowing slightly and quickly exiting the café. He assumes he's gone to get air.
Kurt has to speak to him. Just one last attempt at this – he deserves as much, doesn't he?
"Blaine?" He asks into thin air, having run from his seat and out the door. He knows he's going to be forced to explain his hasty departure to his friends later, but he doesn't care right now. That's not important now.
"Yeah, Kurt," His voice is tired, and Kurt turns to find him at the side of the building, simply leaning against the wall. He doesn't appear gratified by what just happened; there's none of the exhilaration or palpable joy Kurt expected.
Regardless, he has to make his feelings known; "That… That was amazing, Blaine. Why didn't you tell us you could perform like that sooner? Rachel's going to go ballistic that she missed this."
He shrugs a shoulder, seeming nonplussed, "I didn't want to take away anyone's light. Tonight though, I felt like I had to sing that song." He avoids Kurt's gaze.
Kurt's tongue darts out to wet his suddenly chapped and dry lips, feeling anxious, "Was – was there anything to do with me?" Blaine shifts, appearing conflicted, and Kurt seizes the opportunity to speak, "I know I've said it before. I know you don't want me that way, that you're more than likely straight and my mind is creating scenario's out of desperation…. But, in there, with that song… I felt like it was… Like it could have been…"
"Could've been what, Kurt? I don't want to hurt your feelings, not again, and it hurt already to lose your frie—"
"Like it could have been me you were singing to. Can you look me in the eyes and tell me it wasn't?"
Blaine sighs – this kind of downtrodden, exhausted state doesn't suit him, and it's uncharacteristic – and looks at Kurt directly, "It wasn't. You're imagining things that aren't there. I'm sorry, Kurt."
His eyes are itchy for some reason, as if something's burning, and Kurt blinks rapidly to rid himself of the sensation. Kurt tries to fob it off, to convince both himself and Blaine that it's all good and that he doesn't really care anyway. All he can manage to say though, is a dry and scratchy "alright" that both embarrasses and upsets him.
Blaine opens his mouth to say something, but Kurt's finished listening now. He holds his hand up in protest, and slowly backs away and into the café. As if on autopilot, Kurt returns to his seat, willing the trembling in his bottom lip to cease. He's honestly just thankful it's only his lip shaking. Finn notices immediately upon seeing him, though Kurt tries to feign normalcy by picking up his tea, crossing his legs and looking at the next performer.
He's saved by Brittany and Santana storming in. Brittany has tears in her eyes, and her face is crumpled in a way that Kurt has never seen. Santana, in contrast, appears enraged. The vein in her forehead is protruding in an ugly manner, and her signature scowl is proudly worn. Brittany comes to their table, trying to clear the table of cups and plates, but Santana pulls her arm back.
They're standing next to Kurt now, and all their friends are staring. The rest of the occupants of the building are content watching the man on stage, unaware of the argument.
"I thought you loved me," Santana is saying, her hand still on the other woman's arm.
Brittany's voice isn't half as steady as her lovers, and cracks in several places as she speaks, "This isn't normal, Santana. You're my lobster, but you're not hooking my claw for the right reasons. Until you can see that—"
"You're speaking in metaphors that don't even make sense!" She throws her hands up in the air, frustration overwhelming her. They both pause. Santana gathers Brittany's hands in her own then, her facial expression more earnest and genuine than he's ever seen. "Please, Brittany, do me the great honour of becoming my wife. I love you. I love you in a way that I thought I never would. You're smart, kind, loving and thoughtful and… and I couldn't ask for a better partner in life. I want everyone to know that. Kids in wheelchairs can't ask you out, that's not right. You're with me. You can't go out with him. If we marry, he'll know and everyone will know and we won't have this problem."
Brittany's expression has softened into something sympathetic, and Kurt leans forward in his chair, nearly falling out of it. He needs to hear this response. He has to hear it. Just as the blonde opens her mouth to speak, to end all their misery, Puck jumps up.
"Guys, hate to break up this emotional and weird scene, but Rachel just text. Get this: I'm about to do something stupid, Noah, and you're the only one who won't talk me out of it. Wish me luck! You reckon she's having an emotional and weird scene of her own?"
Kurt scowls at Puck for his lack of tact, even if it's not surprising, and looks at Finn. He's now leaning back in his chair, hands over his face. Kurt hesitates to say something, wondering what he could even say. He wants to tell Finn that jumping to the conclusion of Rachel and Jesse doing something drastic in Vegas is ridiculous, that Rachel is a much smarter girl than that. For some reason, he can't.
It no longer matters what Brittany's reply is, because Finn's world is coming crashing down around him.
A/N: Thank you so much to all the reviewers. You're the best :)
Disclaimer: I don't own Glee, "Skinny Love" or "Not in That Way." Both beautiful songs!
CN.