Bleeding Heart - Chapter 4
[I do not own Glee or any of its characters.]
TWO YEARS LATER
Turning the corner just as the street lamps came on, Kurt wrapped his fingers tightly around Blaine's hand, the brisk chill of autumn nipping at their sleeves. Striding down the block toward their 4th floor walk-up, the pair beamed with a kind of impenetrable confidence and comfort that was earned. Their seasoned New York routine of love, care, and creativity had gotten them through some of their worst times—Kurt's dad being diagnosed with cancer, Blaine's parents getting divorced. Now they moved together as one, complementing each other, appearing balanced, whole. Both were enrolled at NYADA and although class competition was traditionally cutthroat, the pair brought a new peace to the department—even Rachel agreed. Apart from school, Blaine was working part-time teaching dance at an after school program in Alphabet City and Kurt was the most fashionable barista on his block. Together, they made it work, and as Kurt breathed into his scarf to warm up his face, he stole a glance at Blaine.
Blaine was nodding to their neighbor two buildings down who could be found all times of day pushing a stroller with at least 3 kids dangling off her. She always provided a colorful contrast to the brownstone buildings on their block, and Blaine's smile reached up to his eyes every time he saw her, which never went unnoticed by Kurt.
"Someday," Kurt whispered in Blaine's ear.
"I know," Blaine replied, stealing a quick kiss on Kurt's cheek and swinging himself around the rot iron gate to their front steps, hopping up each one gingerly.
"Alright, Rocky, move over," Kurt joked, as Blaine flipped up the grey hood from under his peacoat and jabbed the air dramatically.
"Do you want pasta or pasta tonight?" Blaine asked, as they began climbing the four flights of stairs to their apartment.
"Pasta!" Kurt replied, huffing behind him.
"My specialty!" Blaine cried, kissing his fingers in the air.
As they approached the fourth flight of stairs, the pair trudged side by side up to the final landing, and Kurt shoved his keys into the worn locks on the door. As Blaine waited, he leaned his head back against the doorframe and shut his eyes. Kurt couldn't help but pause to kiss the warm spot where Blaine's neck disappeared into his hoodie before pushing the door open.
"Mmm," Blaine hummed, smiling, "home."
As they entered the apartment, Kurt scooped up their beloved feline before she scampered down the hallway after Blaine, who he was convinced she loved more than him. Liza would always find Blaine no matter where he was in the apartment and curl herself up on him, even though Kurt was the one who fed her every night. He'd catch Blaine curled up in front of their makeshift fireplace and she'd be snuggled between him and his pile of books, or on top of his laptop when he was trying to record, or next to him in the window seat looking down at their street.
"Come on, Liza, Daddy's making us dinner," Kurt cooed, smushing the cat's gray face onto his own. To Kurt, nothing felt quite like a purring cat's happy face. Purr back, he thought, before placing her back down on the hardwood floor to let her chase after Blaine who had already begun peeling off his layers in the bedroom.
From the kitchen, Kurt could see Blaine pull his last layer over his head and replace it with his favorite chunky maroon sweater with the big stretched out neck and the hole under the arm. He didn't bother putting on pants over his boxer briefs and pulled on his Ugg boots quickly, scratching his head and stretching his side gracefully before turning and padding over to the kitchen where Kurt had been opening a Pellegrino.
"Can we listen to Patsy Cline tonight?" Blaine asked, approaching their busted up but somehow still functional record player.
"Sure, whatever you want, B," Kurt called, entering the bedroom to slip into his own comfy clothes.
"Ah," Blaine started, "was it just me, or was Bankov particularly cruel today? If I had to do one more lift, I thought my arms were going to fall off."
"No, I think they just fed the girls bricks at lunch."
Blaine laughed, "Straight up lead."
"But yeah, I'm totally sore. Let's stretch it out after dinner," Kurt sighed, emerging from the bedroom in black leggings, Uggs, and his oversized NYADA sweatshirt.
Blaine had already put the water on for dinner and was preparing Kurt's salad, because they both knew that "pasta" for Kurt meant a salad and a bite of Blaine's spaghetti.
"Do you need any help?" Kurt asked, taking a seat on one of the barstools on the other side of their tiny kitchen counter.
"Nope, you just sit and look pretty," Blaine said.
"Done," Kurt smiled, letting his chin rest on his hand while he watched Blaine go to work. After a few minutes, his eyes wandered to the front of the refrigerator, where Kurt had plastered pictures of Blaine and Kurt kissing in Central Park, a picture of Kurt and his dad in front of the Statue of liberty, Blaine and Sam in superhero garb, Rachel dressed up as Barbara for Halloween. His eyes then fell onto the crinkled piece of paper stuck to the front with a magnet, 'Courage.' It was the note Kurt stuffed in Blaine's jacket pocket when he went home for the first time after his parents got divorced.
"Wine?" Kurt asked.
"Sure," Blaine said softly, before returning to humming along to the crackled twangs from the record player.
Kurt opened one of the cabernets Finn and Rachel had given them from the bar. Finn had taken up bartending near NYADA to make ends meet and stumbled into a position working as a wine promoter. Not bad for a kid from Ohio with a fake ID. Only in New York.
As a general rule, Kurt and Blaine avoided talking about their parents because things had become so stressful on both ends, but as Kurt poured the wine, he took a risk.
"Heard anything new from Cooper?" Kurt asked.
Blaine's humming hitched abruptly.
"Uh, no. Nothing new," he replied nonchalantly. Blaine looked up quickly and continued.
"Heard anything from Burt and Carole?"
"Yeah, actually. They're planning a big Thanksgiving this year, and they wanted to see if we're coming. I know we talked about going on a trip for Thanksgiving this year, but everyone's going to be there. What do you think?" Kurt asked. He tried to gauge Blaine's expression. He had only been back to Ohio a handful of times since his parents' divorce, and they had all been pretty traumatic—once to show up in court, another time for a grandparent's funeral, which turned into a DUI for his dad, it wasn't pretty.
"Do you want to go?" Blaine asked after a few seconds.
"I think it could be fun. Plus we'd get to see Mr. Shue's baby girl…" Kurt smiled, knowing he was being unfair by pulling out the baby card. Blaine let out a deep breath as Kurt handed him his wine.
"Okay, let's do it. It will be good to see your parents, too," Blaine smiled tiredly.
"Yay!" Kurt squealed, kissing Blaine excitedly and toasting their glasses. "I'll call my dad tomorrow." After a few seconds, he turned back to Blaine. "Hey, I love you," he breathed.
Blaine smiled and tilted his head back to their boiling dinner. "I love you, too," he replied softly, his brow furrowing at the familiar too-fast drumming in his chest. At the same time Kurt's phone started buzzing from their pile of keys and bags by the front door. Kurt stumbled over himself to reach the phone before it hit voicemail.
"Hey, Rachel—yeah, I do think we're going—great ok—let's try to book tickets together—"
As Kurt wandered into the corner talking to Rachel about plans they had clearly already been coordinating, Blaine coolly grabbed a glass of water and noiselessly snagged one of his pills from the spare orange bottle in the cupboard next to the refrigerator. Just as he finished gulping down the pill and water, Kurt emerged next to their makeshift dining table near the kitchen.
"Thirsty?" he asked, eyeing the water dribbling down Blaine's chin to his sweater.
"Hungry," Blaine covered, wiping his face, "let's eat."
As they took their seats across from each other under the string of lights next to the kitchen, they toasted their glasses again.
"To us, to love," Kurt said softly, beaming at Blaine, who was smoldering back at him from behind his wine glass. A smile tugged at both their mouths as they sipped their wine and ate their modest dinner, thinking of what was in store later that night, Kurt's kiss still burning on Blaine's neck from almost an hour ago.
Stay tuned... comments?