XX
~ Wedding ~
Carlson Palmers found himself sitting at the foot of Kurt's bed one bright and sunny afternoon, a newspaper in his lap as his hands blindly felt for the bag of Madeleines sitting right next to him on the comforter. Kurt had introduced the little French cakes about an hour ago and the man just couldn't get enough. They were so light and buttery that he'd nearly finished off all twelve sachets in the bag, now only leaving one left as his fingers felt for it, his eyes still trained on the article he was intently reading. Today was the wedding day of Noah Puckerman and Quinn Fabray, one of the most anticipated weddings of the year. The page he was currently on was one of many that stretched the story for its vivacious readers and had in it everything one needed to know about the couple if you really had been living under a rock for the past year.
Back-stories of the couple and their families had been printed, their high school days where they had first met were also covered and the way Noah had romantically proposed to his blonde fiancée had all been crammed in for Carlson to shake his head at disapprovingly. Kurt had been right all along. With the formal engagement pictures of both Noah and Quinn smiling back up at him, he couldn't help noticing how mind bogglingly fake it all was. It didn't help that every single image taken looked awfully staged, but that the wooden expressions of the couple looked as if they were being photographed by terrorists with guns to their heads if they didn't cooperate and put up the mask of young love shining at its brightest. In fact, if it had been anyone else, Carlson would have laughed but after everything with Kurt, it was just tragic to behold.
Closing the newspaper, Carlson sighed. He had half a mind to tear out every page to do with the Puckerman wedding. He didn't want Kurt seeing this. It would only dampen the spirits of an otherwise recovering boy, something that wouldn't do him any good. Then again, if he were to do that, there wouldn't be all that much left of the paper except the adds, and those weren't worth keeping, so without hesitation, he rose from the bed and headed into the kitchen, dumping the offending paper into the recycling bin beside the sink. There. Now there was one less reminder for Kurt, and Carlson felt happy that he'd helped out. He'd originally only come round to return Kurt's Girls Generation Hexology music video DVD that he'd had a hold on for months since that day in the Monarch Theater's dressing room, but now, he was glad he'd stuck around.
For today was not just a big day for Puckerman and Fabray, not only was it the day belonging to a pair so obviously out of love that Carlson began to pity the kids they may bear, but it was also Kurt Hummel's. Kurt was currently in the bathroom washing, getting dressed and gussying up for a high profile photoshoot set to be shot in Central Park. Lately the park had been the number one hot spot for shoots this season, not only because it resembled the country side when the city's skyscrapers or various buildings weren't in view, meaning less time and money having to go looking for locations in the actual country side, but because there was a certain charm to it that gave each photoshoot that special something, like a secret ingredient in a recipe that rendered on otherwise boring, bland and uninspiring dish into a masterpiece.
Knock! Knock! Knock! On his way back to Kurt's bedroom, Carlson stopped as he eyed the door. He'd been in a similar situation where he'd been merely hanging around, Kurt had been in the bathroom fixing himself up and a loud knock had rattled the wood. It was serious case of déjà vu but this time Carlson was hoping a deranged looking billionaire wasn't on the other side, for that had not ended well. What puzzled him was that to enter the building, one had to be buzzed into it from the person you intended to see. He'd had to do it about an hour ago when he'd first arrived but it looked as if these people Kurt seemed to be attracting to his door had a way of getting in without having to do any buzzing. The thought was disturbing to say the least but as he opened the front door, he found the man before him wasn't at all.
"Hi... um, is Kurt in? I'm Joshua, I'm here to take him to his shoot," began Joshua, Carlson giving the man before him a once over before nodding and stepping back. Joshua Maxum was Kurt's boyfriend. They'd been casually dating for around two weeks now after Kurt and him had crossed paths once again at a fashion show after party and what they seemed to have was a cute, innocent and fun relationship that was, at least to Carlson anyway, interesting to watch. Now, as he led Joshua into Kurt's bedroom, he smiled before quickly snatching the last Madeleine on the duvet. "Where's Kurt? Is he here?"
"Yeah, he's in the bathroom. Just touching himself off," replied Carlson as both men chuckled. To them, what Kurt was doing was pointless. He was making himself up to be made up later at the shoot and Carlson hadn't resisted teasing the boy on it, something Kurt always lightly shrugged off. His chuckles however subsided as Carlson turned around to look at the bathroom door and hear some shuffling until with a turning click of the lock, out came Kurt. "And here he is, our little photoshoot prince, out from his stuffy powder room ready to tackle on the camera. Oh, and your boyfriend's here, Doll face."
"What are you now Carlson, my butler? Answering my door, waiting on my boyfriend, announcing me into my own room. You sure I'm supposed to be paying for your service, because to be honest you're doing quite a good job of it," smiled Kurt, walking from the bathroom door to his boyfriend sitting at the foot of his bed. There they pecked each other on the lips before Kurt picked up his jacket and slid on his shoes, his wallet soon planting itself safely into his pocket."Right, well I'm ready to go. I have to be down there in fifteen minutes otherwise Bunny will be mad."
"You've got everything you need? You don't want to be coming back here if you realized you've left something," warned Joshua as he rose from the bed, following Kurt towards his door as the boy began to double check everything he had. As far as his experience went, models didn't need to bring much to shoots except for their freshly washed faces and woken bodies. However after suffered once from a rookie mistake, he'd learned to always bring your iPod, a book, or even a laptop, anything which could hold over the large amount of waiting around that could often arise at these long location shoots.
"Yep, I think I have, let's go, oh and Carlson, I now you meant only to drop off the DVD but you can stay here a little longer if you like, you don't have to go now, just as long as you don't go sneaking around. These walls have eyes and my furniture can talk so be good," smiled Kurt back at his friend as the man rolled his eyes before returning the grin from his leaning perch on the living room archway. He supposed he could stay here a little longer, raid Kurt's fridge if there actually any carbs in it or browse his TV for the adult channels, if Kurt actually had a TV. Damn. "Oh and another thing Carlson, no girls!"
Nodding his head obediently, Carlson waved the young couple goodbye as the door shut firmly behind them, the sounds of their footsteps descending the stairs disappearing eventually into silence. There really wasn't much point staying in here without Kurt. There was nothing to do. The boy was the main source of entertainment within these apparently listening walls and he had already exhausted the music video DVD. He'd watched it around fifty times for they had all been that good. Not only because this Artie boy had a great visual eye when it came to cinematography but because Kurt had been awesome with his moves, looks and everything. Not that Kurt wasn't any good as a model because he was, there was just something about it that he believed wasn't totally satisfying to Kurt. Something was missing, but not only career wise.
Kurt was still in love with Noah. It was plain to see in the little things the boy tried to hide or obscure from view whenever the man's name cropped up in a conversation, or if the Puckerman heir managed to make his presence known some other way, via Kurt's thoughts. The whole thing was sad to watch. It truly was, for no single one of Kurt's friends had enjoyed watching him conceal his feelings with a mask, like corrective cover-up makeup for the soul. They knew a heart was broken under that pale as porcelain skin so they had all known better than to draw attention to it. Kurt had thrown himself back into his work and his modeling career was as steady and as grounded as ever. Whenever Carlson came across him in whatever magazine, professionalism and class was all he saw posing back at him, but an image, nothing but an image, one he saw right though.
The introduction of Joshua Maxum as the new man in Kurt's life had been surprising to everyone. Of course it had not received nearly as much attention from the press as with Noah and Quinn, but from the boy's personal circle of friends, it had been all they'd been able to talk about. Joshua was a handsome, rugged and overall good man that no one had been able to find a fault with as of yet. He was twenty-one years old and had just graduated from Columbia University with a law degree where he had high hopes of becoming a layer, a prospect that had intrigued everyone especially Kurt. As a result of his college days and charismatic charm, Joshua had many high friends in many high places, explaining his appearance at the Balencia Ball and how he'd run into Kurt once again at a fashion event not too long ago.
It was because of this that the day found Joshua escorting Kurt to his photoshoot, the man's hand in the crook of the boy's back as they entered the vibrant park. For Kurt, Joshua was very much the same build as Noah. The man's favorite sport that went as far back as elementary school was swimming, meaning that beneath the tee shirt Joshua was wearing was a body decorated in a maze of muscles, a real swimmer's body that had Kurt feeling all gooey and school boy like inside. Though the thrill evaporated as quickly as it had soared as the thought of Noah crossed Kurt's mind once again. He knew the wedding was today. He knew that the Cathedral of Saint John the Divine was the church that would be joining both Noah and Quinn in holy matrimony and he knew that no matter how hard he'd try to lose himself in front of the camera, he'd think of Noah. His Noah.
"Are you alright, Kurt? You look a little nervous," observed Joshua as Kurt looked up at the man to see him looking intently back at him. Was he alright? He didn't know. Was he nervous? Of course. His agency could not have stressed enough how important this shoot was, not only for the designers but also for him. It was very high profile, as Vogue had wanted Kurt to pose in their leading double page spread feature this upcoming issue, and on his back would be especially selected outfits from the latest season collections of various celebrated household names in fashion. "Baby, it's all right to get the butterflies."
"That's the first time you've called me that."
"You don't mind do you?"
"Of course I don't, it's cute."
"Are you sure?"
"Plenty sure... baby," smiled Kurt, Joshua kissing him lightly before tightening his hold on him before leading them over to the photoshoot's white marquees. It just wasn't the same. It just wasn't. Back during his relationship stint with Blaine, Kurt had always been referred to by his first name, nothing else. However, when he'd been with Noah, only then had he been referred to for the first time by a term of endearment. 'Baby', 'Babe', and 'my sweet little angel' were all terms that to Kurt had been coined by Noah just for him. Anyone else who'd call him as such would just be using Noah's words. Stealing them.
However, the one thing that was the same was the shoot's array of white marquees. They had all been built in the exact same spot as they had last time Kurt had been here and as a result, thoughts of Noah clouded in his mind yet again. He remembered when he'd spotted Noah crossing the lawn to chat to the other models. He remembered avoiding him only to end up landing on his ass after an embarresing lollipop gig and he remembered the walk they'd had afterwards, followed by a delicious lunch at Mangia. Kurt now remembered those simpler times fondly when not everything had been complicated with affairs and secret. How they'd just been him and Noah as friends, hanging out and just talking. However, thinking about it now, he couldn't help suspecting that there'd been a sexual undercurrent between them, an invisible tether of attraction that had pulled them together, overtaken them and controlled them like the fools they'd been.
"I suppose I'll pretend like it's any other shoot. Perhaps that'll take the edge off," suggested Kurt as they rounded the The Lake before passing the Cherry Hill Fountain where a sailboat painted in blue and white stripes had been harbored at the water. It was a very pretty boat, rocking an inviting sailor look that made anyone want to jump in and sail their sweethearts away across the water. Kurt believed it was actually part of the shoot, since he'd heard that a boat was to be involved in the whole thing but as they approached the marquees, he turned attention to his boyfriend. "You sure you want to hang around. It might get boring after a while."
"Not with you in the picture it won't. I've always wanted to know how you get so sexy photos."
"I'll be even sexier with you looking at me."
"Damn straight. I won't take my eyes off you."
"I'll look forward to it."
"See you later then, all right. By babe," smiled Joshua as he ducked his head to plant a soft kiss on the boy's lips before Kurt smiled back and disappeared into the marquee. The kisses weren't the same. They just weren't. Joshua was a good kisser, soft, tender and very sexy, but his kisses were nothing compared to the tingling passion that erupted from Noah's full lips. There was no comparison, no competition and Kurt had half a mind to declare it, to declare to Joshua that there was no point competing with Noah, he'd never win. Yet Noah wasn't here to compete over. He was gone. That time had gone.
"Hi Kurt! How's my favorite little porcelain model," greeted Charlotta, turning to see Kurt coming towards her, a small smile stretching across his face as she began to organize the vanity desk. As he sat down, the boy removed his jacket and set it aside as he continued to smile at the way his makeup artist studied a photo of what his makeup was to look like before putting it down and selecting the products she would be needing. "Well, this will be nice change. They're allowing us to go a little more adventurous with the makeup this time. More blues. You'll be one bonnie sailor in that boat, Kurt."
"So, I am going to be in a boat, aren't I?" Asked Kurt as Charlotta nodded enthusiastically, Kurt sinking more comfortably into his chair as he stared at his reflection. However, as his eyes bore into his own, the world just seemed to fade away, as the mirror began to melt, liquid glass trailing onto the desk like silver droplets. his skin was numb because there Charlotta was, spreading primer all over his face like spread, but yet he couldn't feel it. It was also as if he was deaf for there his makeup artist was, talking and chatting, her mouth moving and her tongue moving even faster yet no sound came out. Nothing.
He felt empty, that's what it was. He felt empty, but this wasn't a recent development. In fact, he'd felt like this for a long time now, ever since his breakup with Noah. A gash like wound had appeared in him along with his broken heart and fears of loneliness, helplessness and doubt had overtaken him. He supposed this explained his need for his surge in modeling. When he modeled, he could be someone else, dressed in someone's exotic costume and disguise. He could enjoy a narcissitic form of escapism to leave behind that naive boy from Lima, Ohio. For Kurt, being photographed was like being caressed without danger and the boy wanted now above all to be desired, so as not to know whether he was still loved by Noah or by anyone else. The camera loved him. It would never leave him and he would never be replaced, for the camera wanted him.
Now however as he was dolled up and made pretty for his lensed lover, as if he were about to cheat with it in front of his boyfriend for the thousandth sinning time, Kurt couldn't help but think someone else was getting made pretty for their special someone. Hair spray was raining down on their coiffeur masterpiece of blonde hair, blush was being dusted on to accentuate their natural rosy cheeks and a white dress was draped around their body as if the shade could only bring out the fairness of their alabaster features. Yes, Quinn Fabray was no doubt in front of her own vanity mirror holding her gaze as bridesmaids flew about her like fairies to make her look her best for the man she was to marry. This was to be the happiest day of her life and both she and Kurt were to look at their most beauteous, yet only one would appear as nothing but an apparition.
With the retraction of the large powder brush, Charlotta was finished. Kurt had been on enough photoshoots to know when she was satisfied with the end result by the accomplished smile that would grace her lips but that was the thing, he didn't want her to stop. He didn't want her to be finished. As he looked in the mirror, the image before him was indeed bonnie, but Kurt wanted more. He wanted to be beautiful, or if not, more beautiful. He knew he was sinking into something, that the only thing that would save him was having his picture taken, but the only way to truly entice the camera as if it were a man was to be beautiful for it. After all, had that not been the reason why he'd become a model. Had Noah not approached him because he'd been beautiful? Beauty was all he had now. It was the last thing he had when life became unlivable.
.
Glee
.
As the double glass doors to her Upper East Side park building were opened by the two gallant well-dressed footmen, Quinn Fabray floated out onto the sidewalk and towards the awaiting limousine before her. This was it. This was her wedding day for she was about to marry her handsome fiancé, Noah Puckerman, in a celebration that easily challenged and outdid many of their competitors, including the American royal family, the Kennedy's. Everything had been organized by Emily Puckerman, everything from the church to the reception venue at the plaza, including Quinn's classic Vera Wang dress which now, as the bride-to-be escaped the shade of the front door canopy, instantly reflected the sun's rays like a fiery beacon, as if from afar it rendered Quinn naked underneath a blinding glow of light. No one could outshine her on this day. No one.
The blonde nodded courteously back at the chauffeur as he held open the limousine door out for her, and as she lowered her head, she held her white dress close to her. Creases, she knew, could appear if apiece of clothing was positioned in a wrinkled fashion for extended lengths of time and so she did her best to make sure that her masterpiece of couture was set out neatly around her as she settled herself comfortably in the back seat. There to meet her were all her accompanying bridesmaids, Rachel Berry, Santana Lopez, Brittany Pierce, Tina Cohen Chang, Sugar Motta and Lauren Zizes, all clad in Terra Rose shaded gowns that were made from the same chiffon like material as Quinn's dress itself, a material that was especially popular in Asia for its lightness and volume of flow, giving off a greater illusion of walking on air.
Quinn was so happy that she'd trusted Emily Puckerman when it came to the dress. Vera Wang was the one designer you went for when it came to weddings, no one else. Her salon at the Carlyle Hotel showcased her collections known for sophisticated drama, feminine detailing and a modern approach to bridal design. Every single dress had resonated with Wang's signature layering, intricate draping and exquisite attention to detail but when Quinn had discovered that her appointment was with none other than Vera Wang herself, acting as her personal consultant, she'd nearly fainted. It had been such an honor to be advised by the Empress of Wedding Dresses herself, and she had so much to thank to her mother in law, Emily, for being like the pushy Italian mother she'd never had. She now had the dress for the wedding. Perfect.
"You look beautiful Q, and you have no idea how glad I am that we girls here aren't wearing gowns that belong in some tragic southern state prom dress store or better yet, a clearance bin. Good old Vera Wang," smiled Santana as all the girls around her nodded their heads in agreement. They'd been terrified about what they'd have to wear to the wedding, prayed beyond God that they wouldn't resemble Little Bo Peeps or Pink Marshmallows. "You know, for once in my life, being a bridesmaid doesn't revolt me so much as... Oh God Berry, you're crying already? What is with you?"
"It's all right Santana, let her cry. You know as well as I do that once those waterworks start to run they won't stop leaking until the tank is empty. Isn't that right, Rach'?" giggled Quinn as Rachel attempted to hide her face in the tissues she'd since pulled out. "Anyway, I'm glad you like the dresses Santana because the truth is, most girls think that being a bridesmaid is irritating, embarrassing and humiliating, but you're going to change that, all of you. Today's photos are going to be seen by everyone and I'm sure that after my wedding, every girl's faith in bridesmaids will be rightfully restored to the way it was."
"Really? It think that movie Bridesmaids already did that," muttered Brittany, tapping her finger against her chin in thought as the limousine purred around them like the sleek vehicle that it was, although this time, Quinn hoped that nothing or no one would come between her and her Noah. "Oh Q, I'm just so happy you're getting married. It's like you're reliving Prom Night in high school except this time, you won't be crowned queen of anything, but you'll be made Noah's wife. His wife! I mean it's like such a grown up thing to do that I can't help feeling like teenager again."
"Brittany, you'll always be our little teenager," laughed Quinn as she leaned over and tickled Brittany's chin light heartedly, the cute blonde giggling as everyone sported smiles at the childlike reaction. "Besides, this is going to be so much better than Prom, even if I was crowned Prom queen. That night, it was like the teen equivalent of a wedding, all fun and games, a memory I'll store in my high school scrapbook forever but this is like the real deal, and even though I won't legally become an adult for another couple of months, I think I'm ready for this. I'm settling down."
"Settling down? Quinn, you've got nothing to settle down from," remarked Tina as everyone turned to face her. It was true. Apart from perhaps a wildly eventful set of high school years full of parties, pep rallies and boys, Quinn hadn't much to retire from. Her life had barely started. "I mean we're in your twenties, aren't you to spend them dating, going through a mismatches of boyfriends and girlfriends until you find 'the one'. I mean, I love Mike, but at the moment I don't know if he's the 'the one', whether I want to marry or not. I think I'd like to give it more time and have a good time at that."
"Tina, honey, this is my idea of a good time and plus if you think about it, I lived my twenties in my teens. I've gone through all the 'mismatches' and all that, just in high school," explained Quinn as Tina nodded, but furrowed her brows as if struggling to grip onto such naive logic. "I know what I'm doing is by no means conventional nowadays, especially for a New Yorker, but I want to start my life with Noah now. I don't need to spend another decade dating a list of other guys to know he's the man I'm supposed to be with for the rest of my life. I already know it, and so that's why I'm here."
"Ooh, ooh, Q, remember when he had that massive crush on you back in freshman year. He had such a thing for you but you just couldn't stand him," squealed Sugar bouncing up and down in her seats as all the other girls began quietly laughing. However, as Quinn pulled her glossed lips into a nostalgic smile, she couldn't help how things with her and Noah had been flipped. Oh how things had changed. "I would have loved to have seen your face if someone were to have let you know that you would be marrying the same guy who hovered around you like a crazed Justin Bieber fan."
"Well, it's not that I couldn't stand him, it's just that he was just so annoying at times. I mean he'd brag for hours on end from the only winning touchdown in football in sophomore year to that sugar pepper he ate on a dare and didn't even puke. I mean, to me he was nothing but an attention seeking man child with a terrible haircut," reminisced Quinn. "Always giving the 'dweebs' hell, sleeping with every cheerleader in the squad and skipping classes. He wasn't dating material at all. I couldn't picture bringing him home to see my parents, he just wasn't the sort of boy I pictured going out with."
"Yet you're marrying him. What changed?"
"Well, he shaved off that Mohawk for starters."
"What else?"
"He's got drive and ambition. He's now more responsible and mature, and that ladies, is my kind of man."
"I see... so you're not just marrying him because he's the heir to a wealthy worldwide conglomerate?" Suddenly asked Lauren, cutting Sugar off as everyone to turned to face her with expressions of shock. It really was as if the air had been sucked right out of the limousine and replaced with something much colder and damper than before. "Sure, Puckerman may have matured away from his promiscuous high school days into the Harvard hunk that he is today, but something's telling me that's not it. Drive and ambition is all very well, but when you're set to be CEO, it just makes it that much juicer, no?"
"Lauren! How can you... how can you ask me such a thing? This is my wedding day!" Exclaimed Quinn incredulously as she looked over at Lauren at the other side of the limousine with insulted eyes, all the girls in caught in between glancing between the bride and her maid of dishonor. "If you're suggesting I'm marrying into Noah's family for money, then you are deeply mistaken. I love that man with all my heart and so does he, and to have you sit there and accuse me of being a cheap and common gold digger is just so offensive! I half a mind to stop this limo and forbid you from attending the wedding!"
"What, so I won't be there to jump up and give the dean the reason for why both you and Noah shouldn't get married when he asks? Makes sense," shrugged Lauren. "Quinn, all of us here were at your engagement party and to say you were less than thrilled would be an understatement. You looked at Puckerman liked you've always looked at him, as if he repulsed you, like a mistake you regretted. You didn't care when he flirted with other women, just as long as he wasn't flirting with you, so what's the deal, Q? Why the change of heart? It's not like anything happened during the engagement... right?"
"Lauren, I don't know what you're talking about, but if you're not going to support both me and Noah in celebrating our love for each other then I want you out of this wedding, and out of our lives," seethed Quinn as the limousine came to a slow stop in front of the Cathedral of Saint John the Divine. The bride was supposed to be let out first, but the minute the chauffeur opened the passenger door, all the other girls instantly clambered out leaving only Lauren and Quinn to coldly stare at each other. "I mean it Lauren, if you ruin this day for me, you're going to be the one regretting."
"Mediocre threat from a once proud high school head cheerleader. You used to dish out much stronger venom back then," taunted Lauren. "But 'love', Q? Really? I just can't help but think of what that word really means to you, because let's face it, you're not in love with Puckerman, you're in love with the idea of what you're going to get once you marry him. There's the crucial difference. I remember back in high school when you dated a guy just for his huge ass swimming pool and even in senior year, you used Noah to get that plastic Prom Queen tiara on your head. Have you ever actually dated a guy for the guy?"
"What? Of course I hav-"
"Liar. You've always thought of materialistic gain in all of your so-called 'relationships'. No wonder they were mismatched. Once you got as much as you could get out of one, you'd go onto the next and the next and the next," snarked Lauren. "All these years you've been practicing your confidence tricks, fooling the parents, manipulating their sons and hiding your own greedy agenda so that when it came to the 'real deal', the Puckerman fortune, a gain so big you'd never have to waste your time with boys again, you would be a professional. Yet getting Noah to propose, that was the real challenge."
"Lauren-"
"You went to Emily Puckerman herself, and it wasn't until you'd got her comfortable in her own living room that you brainwashed her," began Lauren. "There you distorted her mind with fearful images of her Noah dying alone after countless flings and one night stands, fears that he'd topple the company into the gutter from a crippling depression brought on by palpable loneliness, and only then did you pounce in the wake of her vulnerable state of delusion and claim that the only way to help Noah was to have him marry you, that only you would make him happy and that only you could save him from his destructive lifestyle, give him the life he'd always wanted."
"How did you-"
"And as for the thorn in your side in the form of a beautiful model, I know about Kurt Hummel, the little Marilyn Monroe to your John Kennedy, huh Jackie O?" smirked Lauren. "Not everyone dismissed Noah's little stunt at the Balencia Ball, Q. It was obvious what was going on between the two of them that night, and you know it. You saw how Puckerman looked at that boy and you knew you'd lost him the moment they met on that dance floor. Now being cold and distant didn't seem like a good idea anymore, so you began to act, but guess what Quinn, you may be studying at Yale Drama but you're not that good of an actress."
"Get out!"
"Oh I will, because this wedding of yours is nothing but a sham constructed on a foundation of lies, deception and fraud," accused Lauren as she made her way towards the door and exited the car, turning around as Quinn refused to look at her. "Know this Quinn, even though I may no longer be here to taint the marriage that's only been convenient for you all along, don't count on only me knowing exactly what you are and what you've done. There are six thousand people sitting in that nave, and amongst them all will be someone who can't wait to bring you down like the money leaching bitch that you are."
Turning to look at the girl with eyes wide in shock, Quinn's mouth gaped open as Lauren erupted into a low sinister laugh before retreating from the limousine and sauntering away, disappearing into the crowd of onlookers and paparazzi surrounding the area. However, as she left, Quinn could only stare fixedly at the seat where the girl had once occupied. She couldn't breathe. She hadn't taken a single breath throughout Lauren's entire onslaught of accusations, for each word that had come torpedoing out of that mouth had unsettled her greatly, stunning her into submission. How on Earth had all this come about? It had only been fifteen minutes since she'd left the apartment and already she felt like she was sweating enough for her dress to slide right off her body. Where had Lauren got all of this from?
Stepping out from the limousine with as much grace as she could muster after what she'd been subjected to with her face smiling just as brightly as if nothing had happened, Quinn laughed and lifted her hand to wave at the paparazzi kept back from the entrance by steel road barriers. There they shouted at her to come closer, to pose for them, to give them the best picture before she went in, asking her who she was wearing, how did she feel and every other question they'd been instructed to ask from whichever paper or magazine they represented. However, Quinn had not hung around and chatted. She'd climbed the stairs with her posse of bridesmaids as quickly as she could and to hell with pictures. She didn't want those cameras to capture her. They could see right through her, as if the flash before the shot were like an X-Ray scan, revealing everything.
Relieved that she was in the safe confines of the cathedral, Quinn watched as one by one her bridesmaids strutted down the aisle with their heads held high and their lips wide, their manicured hands choking the stems of their individual miniature bouquets to death. It looked as if Quinn wasn't the only one wishing to forget what had gone down in the limousine, and they had the right to do so. Nothing else could go wrong today. Peering from around one of the large stone pillars, Quinn's eyes widened as she took in the sheer size of the cathedral. Being the fourth largest Christian church in the world, it boasted vast stretches of Gothic Revival architecture, a perfect example of 13th century High Gothic stylization from northern France and currently held the record for the largest rose window and longest Gothic nave in the country.
Quinn had originally been under the impression that her wedding to Noah would be Jewish, that she'd have to sign a ketubah, have Noah give her a ring he owned under a wedding canopy and for him to break the glass at the end, but apparently not. According to Emily Puckerman, although she'd been Roman Catholic whilst her late husband Thomas had been Jewish when they'd first met, they'd joined the Episcopal Church when they'd started a family, a very similar affair to the parent's of the cathedral's current dean, James August Kawalski. Quinn was glad she wouldn't later be lifted into the air on a chair only to be paraded around a room as if she were some doll that weighed nothing. The idea of now walking down this extremely long isle in front of thousands was challenging enough. All eyes would be on her.
Suddenly, as her father Russell Fabray, offered up his arm for her to take, the organ erupted into song, the sound of Richard Wagner's Bridal Chorus, echoing around the cathedral. This was it. Now was the time. Appearing at the nave entrance, Quinn looked on as all six thousand guests rose from their pews as if on command and turned to look at her, every single one of them with their attention on the blushing bride. Quinn smiled politely at everyone as she descended the nave, nodded courteously to all those who caught her eye but even as she addressed everyone with a silent thank you for attending the wedding, she eyed them all in masked suspicion. Thanks to Lauren, her already fretting nerves had been thrown into overdrive, paranoia clouding her mind. There was someone in here, hidden amongst the wedding hats, ready to strike.
As they eventually reached the alter, after a long walk from the cathedral's great west doors, Quinn's father pecked on her the cheek before retreating and watching his daughter come to stand alongside her fiancé in front of the dean. Stealing a quick glance at her future husband, Quinn took note of Noah. He looked very handsome, very dapper in a designer wedding tuxedo that flattered his masculine physique well. The jacket, the waistcoat, the tie, even the boutonniere were all coordinated to the finest detail, yet it was the expression on his face that seemed to undo it all, for Noah looked broken. From just one look in his hazel eyes, one could tell the man was an emotional wreck, deeply melancholic with a shredded heart that struggled to beat and a soul that he'd soon sell to Quinn with a ring. To him, his life now over.
"Dearly Beloved, we are gathered here today in the presence of God and these witnesses, to join Noah Puckerman and Quinn Fabray in matrimony, which is commended to be honorable among all men; and therefore – is not by any – to be entered into unadvisedly or lightly – but reverently, discreetly, advisedly and solemnly," began the dean. "Into this holy estate these two persons present now come to be joined. If any person can show just cause why they may not be joined together – let them speak now or forever hold their peace." Quinn held her breath and was just about to blow a sigh of relief when-
"I object to this wedding!" Cried out a familiar but stern voice from the front of the nave, a chorus of gasps echoing through the cathedral as everyone turned to face the last person the bride would ever have thought would interrupt her wedding, Anita. The loyal maid of the Puckerman's, who had served them well over many years and who had helped raised their children, was shuffling out of a nearby pew, her eyes narrowed and sharp. Stood rooted in shock, Quinn looked on as the woman marched her way up the aisle, everyone too stunned to stop her. "Dean, this woman is not fit to marry this man."
"Anita! What are you doing?!" Hissed Quinn menacingly as the maid came to a halt before her and Noah, the dean looking just as perplexed as everyone else. This could not be happening. Quinn just couldn't believe the betrayal. Around two weeks ago, Anita had sat across from her in Noah's kitchen and had said that she supported her upcoming marriage to Noah, that she believed in marriage, that despite Noah's attitude towards it, it was the right thing to do, yet here she was ruining it. Quinn wouldn't let it happen. "Get back to your seat right now, you're interrupting our wedding!"
"No!" Retorted Anita as she turned full force on the blonde bride, her fists clenching dangerously. Noah, who had kept quiet through this whole thing, was looking between Quinn and Anita in utter confusion. His face had since lost its somber tone in favor of a furrowed frown, trying to make sense of what the hell was going on. "I am not prepared to sit on and watch as you marry this man, and if I do, I will regret it for the rest of my life, because you, Quinn Fabray, have been lying to everyone! You've been lying to Noah, you've been lying to me and you've been lying to every other single person who believes in this marriage!"
"Excuse me miss, but you are being highly inappropriate and disruptive to the service at this time. If you wish to let your objections be known then they should be conducted in private, not in public," informed the dean as Noah, Quinn and Anita all turned to face him at once. "I apologize, but it is the traditional procedure that has to be undergone. We must consider the feelings of the couple and everyone else around, I hope you understand. So if you wish to pursue your objections, I insist you follow me so that we may settle this account in a more-"
"I hear what you're saying dean and I apologize for the nature I'm doing this in, but after what I've learned, I am not going to take into account the feelings of this conniving woman. She deserves what's coming to her, she deserves this!" Spat Anita, the dean not even attempting to stop her, as her anger boiled. Her voice was loud and frosty, it carried around the cathedral easily and as Anita turned to the congregation, she commanded their attention. "What I have to say right now is important enough for everyone in this church to hear! All of you have a right to know what a deceitful liar our Noah is marrying!"
"How dare you!" Thundered Quinn as she violently struck Anita across the face, causing the maid to cry out and stumble back, eventually losing her footing and tumbling down the stairs to land in a crumpled heap on the floor. Further gasps echoed around the cathedral but this did not deter Quinn for one second. She looked down at the elderly woman and seethed. "Listen here, Anita! You're fired, you're finished, you'll never work for us again! This little charade has cost you dearly! You've made a spectacle out of yourself and ruined my wedding and for that, you are relieved of your duties! Get out!"
"Quinn! What the hell is wrong with you?!" Exclaimed Noah in outrage, eying his flustered bride with a mixture of anger and disbelief as everyone in the cathedral looked on appalled. The dean was recovering from his spluttered shock, the women in the pews had their covered their mouths with gloved hands and the men were shaking their heads disapprovingly. Rushing to Anita's side without a second thought, Noah offered the maid his help, which she gladly accepted. However, as he helped her back onto her feat, he couldn't help but notice her wince in pain as she attempted to regain her footing.
"Noah, what are you doing? Get back up here and leave her alone. She's security's problem now," whispered Quinn harshly as she pointed for Noah to stand exactly where he'd been, but the problem was, he wasn't budging. He stayed fixed to his maid like a human support, as if Anita were going to keel over and fall to the ground again if he wasn't there by her side. For Anita, it was the only good thing that had come out from Quinn's vicious attack. Noah no longer had his hateful eyes on her, but had an arm around her, protecting her from his bride. "I apologize for the interruption dean, it won't happen again."
"Oh yes it will. This wedding is as good as over, and whilst I'm still here, you are not marrying this man!" Retorted Anita as she turned to look at Noah. She was ashamed of herself for having contributed to all this and could only hope she'd be forgiven as the man glanced down at her. "Oh Noah, I am so sorry for the way I have behaved these past few months. I'm sorry I betrayed you, I'm sorry for the way I treated Kurt, and I'm sorry for having helped the woman tear the boy I know you love away from you. I... I thought I was doing the right thing; I really did, but... I was tricked. You have to believe me, Noah."
"Oh my God, are you still here?!" Boomed Quinn as she bore down on Anita with agitation. Why wasn't any one doing anything? No one had attempted to help out the situation. All they were doing was sitting there in their pews, whispering and offering her nothing but looks of contempt. Even her own family were eying her coldly, abandoning her to fight for herself as she battled this mere maid. "Will someone please get rid of this disgusting piece of infestation?! I know my wedding has already been tarnished with putrid working class poison but even this must have a limit!"
"Shut up, Quinn! Don't you dare talk to her like that!"
"Noah, she's ruining everything! I don't even know why you invited her, she's merely the maid!"
"No, she's not! She's cared for me since I was three! She's been like a second mom to me and-"
"I couldn't care less what she is to you Noah, she's fired! She has nothing to do with us anymore!"
"And yet without me, you wouldn't be here would you! If I hadn't accepted to be your spy, you wouldn't be standing right where you are!" Shouted Anita. "Don't act as if I was nothing more than someone who aired your rooms, hoovered the carpets and dusted your furniture until every single thing in that apartment sparkled, because you know very well I was. You told me to always have my phone at the ready should Noah ever be unfaithful and to scare off the 'sluts' so that they never returned. You even went as far as to ask me to hide little cameras in his study and his bedroom, in his bathroom and in his-"
"For God's sake, it won't stop talking will it?!" Exclaimed Quinn, rolling her eyes exaggeratedly as she let out a loud of sigh of exasperation. Except now, as she looked at Noah, his face had hardened into furious scowl. Cameras in his room? Controlling Anita like a puppet to speak to Kurt like she had done! He was positively livid. "Listen you old hag, you're just jealous that you're so much older than me but yet you're still not married! Perhaps no man will even bother looking your way and you'll be stuck scrubbing floors till your spine crumbles, your fingers bleed and you breathe your very last breath!"
"Shut the hell up, woman! Just shut up!" Roared Noah, detaching himself from Anita's side before storming his way over to his fiancée. He'd had enough of Quinn. He'd been emasculated by her for too long and as his voice carried itself like a sonic tsunami, it pleased him that the blonde's face winced in discomfort. However, his anger could not compete with the following silence that descended over the cathedral. No one uttered or even dared make a sound. Whispers had gone silent, not even a single rustle from a program was made. He was taking control now.
"Don't raise your voice to me like that Noah," whispered Quinn harshly, breaking the deafening silence but keeping her voice low as she took a few steps back from Noah. The man had come to stand right in her, breaking into her personal space. It intimidated her greatly. His strength, his height, Noah could snap her like a twig if he wanted, but this only served to enrage her more. She hated feeling helpless and so she turned to Anita, fuming. "Why the hell are you still here?! I've torn down every single possible self esteem wall in that overweight lard ass mess of a train wreck you call a body so get the hell out!"
"I'm here because I care about the integrity and good values of this family, and no matter how many times you try to beat me down with words, I'll always be here for them!" Retaliated Anita. "What you did to Mrs. Puckerman was barbaric. You drugged her tea with Scopolamine and persuaded her to make Noah marry you, making sure she signed a letter of agreement you'd drafted up yourself, before you blew the rest of the drug in her face so she wouldn't remember anything about how she'd got the sudden urge to marry Noah off to you, and why did you do all of this? Simple! Money!"
"What?! You did what to my mom?!" Roared Noah as everyone in the cathedral gasped aloud once again before trying to peer about for Emily Puckerman, but up at the altar, everyone's attention was on Noah, as the man's hazel eyes darkened threateningly into slits. He glared back at Quinn, closing the distance between them before taking a hold of her arms and clenching down hard, his hands like clamps as the blonde whimpered pitifully. "You drugged my mom with The Devil's Breath just so you could get your hands on my fucking bucks?! You could have killed her!"
"Don't listen to that woman, she's delusional! She's- ow Noah, my arm-"
"I told not to fuck with me, Q! I told if you ever hurt my family, I'd hurt you!"
"I didn't do anything to your mom, I swear, I-"
"You tore Kurt away from me, you broke our hearts and crushed us just for my dollar bills! You gold digging bitch!"
"Noah, please will you lay off! Will you... hey! Noah, where are going! Come back here!" Screamed Quinn as with a final shove, Noah let go of the blonde's abused arm. The girl had been desperately trying to free her paling and nearly crushed arm from his death grip, but the current sight of him descending the stairs and storming away down the aisle was even worse. "Noah! If you don't come back here right now, I'll release the photos! I'll go to the press and show them all! You, Kurt and your company will be finished and you'll have nothing but regret for the rest of your miserable life!"
Despite her threats and despite her screams, Noah didn't stop walking up the long nave back up to the great west doors. No words racing out of Quinn's panicking mouth seemed to deter him and in a whimper of distress, the blonde hurtled after him, careful not to trip over her dress as she struggled to keep up with the man's wide strides. Following behind Quinn in the chase was Anita, hobbling slightly as she too struggled to keep up until with a deafening tear of a Vera Wang wedding dress, Quinn tripped over her own gown and was catapulted forwards, landing harshly on the stone floor with a painful thud and smack of skin. Letting out a chorus of painful whimpers, she slowly raised her head to see members of the congregation on both aisles either side of her, not a single one offering to help, but rather settling on killing her slowly with eyes of frost.
"You can expose whatever the hell you like Quinn! You might as well since everything about you and what you've done is now out in the open!" Barked Noah as he stopped and turned around. "I'm calling the cops on your ass and you're going to be behind bars for a very long time! You can save whatever left you have to say for the courts, because I don't give a damn about you! No one here does! No one here pities you, they only hate you and no judge is ever going to view my affair as worse an offense as fraud and extortion! I'm leaving you at the altar for the boy I love and I never want to you see you again!"
At the mention of Kurt, Noah looked around the six thousand heads that made up the congregation and watched as they erupted into a frenzy of indiscreet whispers with many of them eying him and determining whether he was serious. However, judging by his proud stance and unabashed expression, their queries were quickly answered with a single look from hazel eyes. Yes, Noah Puckerman had just outed himself at his own wedding in front of his family, friends, New York high society, and anyone else he couldn't care to think of. If they didn't accept him for it, or accept his love for Kurt Hummel, then that was their problem, not his, and so with the rush of liberty pulsing through his veins, Noah wrenched the ring off his finger and threw it to the stone floor, the jewel echoing with a clang as it rolled to stop right in front of Quinn. He was now free. Free.
"Go to him Noah, go to him and be happy. You deserve happiness," came a soft voice beside him. Turning to see Anita returning his gaze, Noah allowed the woman to stroke his cheek comfortingly just like she had done when he'd been little, his eyes softening as he welcomed her gentle touch. Eventually, as her hand left his skin, Noah gifted her with the smile she knew she'd been wishing to see again for years before turning around and throwing open the cathedral door, disappearing into the sunlight as Anita looked on, watching as her baby Noah became a man.
That's it Noah. Find your happiness.
.
Glee
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Stepping out of the outfit marquee on unsteady feet, as if bothered by his slender shape that was exposed in the tight fitting clothes he was wearing, Kurt squinted as the hot sun bore down on him unforgivingly. Once Charlotta had made his hair, skin and nails as presentable as she could get them he had made his way over to the neighboring marquee to meet Forde, the outfit director, for the first ensemble he would be wearing. She'd clothed him in a classic sailor outfit but with a French designer twist to it, stylishly unconventional, uncomfortably tight, yet flatteringly daring with the white in the material now acting as a reflector as the sunlight beamed onto it, the dark blue likewise doing its job as it brought out his baby blue swimming eyes, exaggerating them, saturating them until it only now began to highlight how truly troubled they were.
Yet Kurt's eyes didn't seem to be the only indicators to his troubles. Once Forde had finished with him, going to attend to the other male model, he had come across a number of champagne bottles as well as cider, wine coolers and other light alcoholic drinks on a nearby table. Glasses had been set out and all though he knew he shouldn't have even considered it, let alone done it, Kurt had approached the table, opened the nearest cider bottle and began pouring it into a glass. The amounts were not generous. Far from it. In fact, during one refill, his glass had overflowed, staining the tablecloth and wetting his fingers, his loose grip now threatening to send his glass to the floor. He didn't care though, just as long as he saw the sweet liquid before his eyes, tasting it on his tongue and raging a fire down his throat.
Kurt was drunk. His balance was off, his eyes had now a habit of closing half way either giving him a dozed expression wanting sleep or one of seduction wanting sex and he'd burst into giggles of laughter at anything that made him smile. He didn't know what he was doing but he supposed that he'd always had a stupid thought in his head thinking that with each glass of sweet mixed berry cider he consumed, the less he had to think of a wedding. He thought he could choose what he could think and what he didn't want to, all with the help of this magic glass full of magic liquid, but no. He'd been stupid. He hadn't thought anything through and now as he brought a lazy finger to clear up a dribble of cider seeping its way out from the corner of his berry tasting lips, he began to realize how ridiculous he looked. He was nothing but a beautiful mess.
"Kurt! Hey Kurt, over here! Come along now, we don't have that much time!" Shouted the photoshoot director from where the cute sailboat had been harbored. He waved his hands from out of the crew crowd of the shoot and as Kurt made his way over, the boy attempted desperately not to arouse suspicion from either his fellow model or his photographer. "All right, okay, here's what you have to do. Both of you are going to get into the boat and you're going to have to both sail and row into the centre of the lake, all right. Don't go much further than that because otherwise we'll have to ask you to come back a bit."
Peering his head around the director, Kurt took note once again of the pretty sailor boat habored nearby. Various crewmembers were hovering around it, double-checking its safety for any holes that could send both models to the bottom of the lake. Maybe it could be just as well, seeing as Kurt was in desperate need of water. However, the more he thought about being forced into boat too small a size with a model much bigger than him, he squirmed. The upcoming sense of being trapped made him shiver, and as he turned his head, he took note of his fellow model. His name was Theo, quite friendly looking and was similarly dressed in a sailor like outfit except without a shirt. Another sculpted chest, just another set of lean muscle on display. By now, Kurt wasn't so much as impressed with them as he was uninterested. Oh Noah...
"How are you going to be able to communicate with us if we're all the way in the middle of the lake?" Asked Theo, the director explaining that he'd be using a megaphone to let them both know what they were to do. However as instructions were laid down and explanations given, Kurt overted his eyes from everyone. He didn't know what his eyes looked like, whether they were still dopey looking or if they were bloodshot and dead, but letting anyone find out whichever one they were was a massive no-no. "Kurt... um... Kurt? Kurt should I row?"
"What? Oh... I-if you wouldn't... mind... Theo," breathed Kurt lightly as he stumbled lazily through his response. His words were like a caress of pleasure, his voice increasingly charged with sex and as Theo looked back at him with furrowing brows whilst the director performed a double take, Kurt placed a hand over his mouth before moving around them and over to the boat. He hadn't spoken for that long but he knew that he'd spoken too much, and so he did his best to only nod or shake his head for communication as he was helped into the boat, Theo following closely behind him. "Sorry about that... T-theo..."
"It's all right... I guess," answered Theo unsurely, his eye's scanning over Kurt's appearance as the pale boy looked quickly away, begging for the other model to stop trailing his judgmental sight over him as if inspecting him for symptoms of viral plague. This was not what Kurt wanted. He wanted to be seen as beautiful but because of his own flawed logic, come about by sadness; he had decided to null the pain of his rapturous thoughts of Noah in the worst possible way. Now he would pay. "Kurt, are you all right? You look really pale, and kind of drunk... I mean... are you drunk?"
"No, I'm j-just... a little delirious from the... the heat," lied Kurt as the boat was released from its tether, drifting along the water as Theo took up the oars and began to row them across the lake. Kurt really wasn't doing himself any favors by talking. It was just convincing his fellow model that he was indeed intoxicated, but if only Theo knew why. If he knew why, Kurt would surely be forgiven and there would be no need for guilt and regrets. Regrets were stupid, yet so was he. "Don't worry about... about me, I'm fine. I p-pose best when I have the sun on me, it makes me giddy... that's all."
Giving him another look that clearly believed he was lying, Theo went silent, but did not stop stealing glances at Kurt through the corner of his eyes when he thought he wasn't looking. Theo had heard of Kurt. Many other models as well as everyone else in the fashion industry had heard or at least seen one photo of him from a magazine. He always looked his best, posed with an air of sophistication and whenever one would look at his face, it was as if his eyes followed you at whichever angle you looked at, as if Kurt wouldn't let you go, for you had laid yours eyes on him, therefore, you were his. Now however, as Theo lifted and pulled at the oars, his hands getting sore from the friction and his arms and back beginning to ache ever so slightly, he couldn't help feeling that even though Kurt was just holding the tiller, the boy was hurting so much more than he was.
"I think we're almost... there," breathed Theo heavily as they neared the center of the lake. Turning around and eying his surroundings, Kurt took into account how vast and large the lake actually was. Though as he could still make out the photographer taking photos of them from on land, Kurt also took note of others walking, talking and strolling along the pathways, their happy faces the brightest beacons of all, and even as the sun hit the water, causing rippling reflections of its gaze to land on him, not even something as naturally beautiful as that could eclipse those beacons. "Kurt, we're here."
"All right guys, that's perfect! Just stay where you are, don't move the boat and remove the oars from sight! Assume your positions now!" Boomed the director from on land, Kurt wincing as even from this position and distance did the sound of that ghastly megaphone make him want to cover his ears. His posing instructions were to stand up and lean his back against the mast whilst Theo crouched down and did his own thing, yet Kurt didn't want to stand. The alcohol had obliterated his co-ordination, the boat felt unstable on the water and the breeze was beginning to act up. All signs pointed to something bad.
Hoisting himself up on teetering legs, Kurt made to stand but could not find the energy or balance to do it. He looked utterly ridiculous falling back down more than once as he tried over and over again to make it to the mast, but no matter how hard he tried or how hard he willed the alcohol's influence to leave him, he could not make it. That was until Theo offered up his hand in help, guiding Kurt into his position and helping him strike a good balanced footing before striking up his own. In response, Kurt could only thank his fellow model with a glazed smile, a sad smile that seemed to quiver slightly as the first photos were taken as if his lensed lover were taking advantage of him in his state. For the camera was making love to him as he posed drunk, looking pretty, but weary, looking beautiful, but haggard, and looking very much like a smudged image.
He remembered the night he had first met Noah, how the man had been clearly troubled. Due to his father's death, a fear of getting too close to people in case he lost them had isolated him from others, but with the palpable loneliness Noah had felt because of it, his desire to love and be loved had overcome it all. He'd found himself with Kurt, a country creature with words of wisdom and beauty that made the heart break. Kurt had inquired after happiness, had assured Noah that it could only be brought on by one self, no one else. The fate of his mother, the mention of past harassment and his quote had opened Noah's eyes, had helped resuscitate hope for future happiness, except now, there was no one to recount a childhood quote to Kurt. There was no one to offer him comfort, no words of wisdom to help him through his days, to strike up hope, for that person was gone. Gone.
"Kurt! Could you face the camera please! Your face is... Kurt!" Cried out the director as Theo looked over at the boy to find him swaying slightly, his vibrant blue eyes shifting from the lush tress in the distance to his rippling reflection in the water. There Kurt perilously peered over the boat's edge and held his gaze, completely oblivious to the shouts from the director on land. Feeling as if he should do something, Theo made to stand and pull the boy away before he toppled into the water but as soon as Kurt turned to face him, he halted. "Are you listening to me?! Kurt, for fuck's sake, face the camera!"
"Kurt, stop leaning over the edge, you're going to fall in," warned Theo as Kurt brought his eyes away from his before lifting his gaze to the sky once more. The breeze was getting stronger now. It was hitting the sail with more force than it had done earlier but for Kurt, it seemed to only act as a current for two white birds that were now flying above him. They circled each other, as if dancing their courtship in the sun, their chirping melodies convincing all of nature itself of their undying love. They were the lucky ones, only they could join as one but no sooner had Kurt's eyes landed on them, then his feet had begun to ever so slowly lead him towards the back of the boat as he followed the singing birds. It was as if he'd been cast under a spell. His hand was outstretched before him as if he too wanted to be taken and flown away, away from the people he didn't like, away from all this. He wanted what they had. Happiness, for he sought happiness, why couldn't it seek him.
"Kurt, what the hell are you doing?! Get back in your position right now!" Screamed the director but Kurt could not hear him. He just wanted to be left alone with these birds, to imagine that his outstretched fingers were stroking their delicate wings as they fluttered around him. No doubt about now, the wedding bells from the Cathedral of the Unfinished were going to ring, signaling to everyone around that both Noah and Quinn had been pronounced man and wife and that the sealing kiss that would follow would set storm to a shower of petals that would rain down upon them both. "Kurt! Damn it, Kurt! Kurt!"
"Life is... very beautiful," muttered Kurt quietly, retracting his hand for it to fall limply by his side. He had thought to jump in the air and fall, to beg someone to say goodbye to the sunset for him, to finish off his tale, the story of his life so that age would not write them down on the lines on his face, the lines of a naive boy who had come to New York only to have his heart crushed, but in the end, he had not. Now was not his time and helplessness be damned, he was not going to let Quinn win. She had taken away his love but she would never take away his life.
However as he turned around on shuffling feet, his senses now returning to reality, a sudden gush of wind skimmed across the lake. The branches from trees nearby ruffled ruthlessly and as the forceful wind hit the boat with a strength much unsuspected, Kurt closed his eyes and braced himself with all the will he could muster. It wouldn't stop. It kept on coming. It scruffed his hair, it caused him to shiver and as he opened his eyes to a squint, he noticed the boat start to move out of position. The mainsail was flapping wildly in the wind, turning the boat to one side. Kurt didn't know what to do. He was afraid of them being drowned together. He was now afraid to die himself. He looked for Theo, wanting to scream out his name, and eventually saw the other model making his way towards him. He was shouting something, begging Kurt to come away from the edge of the boat but with a sudden forceful gust of wind, the jib changed course and the boom swung over, knocking Theo violently into the water.
Kurt watched in horror as Theo fell overboard, his body struggling and his hands flapping wildly as his mouth gasped for air. It had all happened so quickly and in his frightened and intoxicated state, Kurt began to panic. The strong wind was blowing the boat further away, leaving Theo behind and Kurt didn't know how to stop it. All he could do was look around desperately for rope, something, anything that could save the drowning man in the lake, for the man was screaming, screaming for help, for his life and tears could only prick at Kurt's eyes as he continued looking for the rope. Finally locating it, he whimpered as he picked it up and brought it to his chest, but only tripped and fell as he stumbled along the boat to the tiller. He reached the stern, but heard nothing. Theo's screams had ceased, nothing was there. Looking around hysterically, Kurt saw nothing...
The wind died down, the water calmed down and all was left of where Theo had been were a couple of bubbles left behind. Kurt couldn't take it anymore. Letting out a cry of distress, he ran off the edge of the boat and into the water, plunging into it before quickly resurfacing, looking around helplessly as his body struggled to keep afloat. He screamed out Theo's name, over and over again as his body shivered from the cold. His tears were cascading down his cheeks as he wailed out the man's name through despair, yet as he himself began to struggle not to drown whilst his heart began to anchor him down, as if pulling him further and further into the water's depths, with a loud disruption on the water's surface, appeared Theo, right in front of Kurt. With a loud cry, Kurt looked back at the other model but it was too late. He had been too late.
All that was looking back at Kurt now was Theo's face, his dead face, with his hair sticking to his forehead as Kurt's eyes teared up and welled in the water. He tried to take hold of the model's face, to cradle it, to comfort the man who had lost his life, but as his fingers neared, he retracted them. He waved over to the crew on land for help, screaming out to them until he brought his sobbing sight back to Theo's lifeless, floating, horizontal body, Kurt by his side, as if sitting by the man's death bed, crying. Looking high into the sky, Kurt noticed as the white birds from before began to circle above him again. There they hovered over the water, eyeing him before rising into the sky, their dancing figures ascending into the heavens. Yes, life is very beautiful, thought Kurt as he let out his final breath and fainted, his mind losing consciousness as his body sank into the lake's depth filled chasm.
Very beautiful...
~ PLEASE REVIEW ~
(But if you wish to criticize, may it be constructive. I'm not going to learn from my mistakes and improve if you vent.)
Author's Note: I took influence from Henleigh Mallinger Grandcourt and Gwendolen Harleth's boating accident in George Elliot's novel Daniel Deronda (1876) for the boating accident in this chapter.
Disclaimer: I do not own the rights to the characters from Glee since I don't own the show. I'm not earning money from this and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended. I mean only to please whoever stumbles upon my Love Story.
~ STAY TUNED FOR MORE BY FOLLOWING/FAVORITING ~