Hello everyone,
I'm checking in with the first chapter and need to mention a few things right away.
Some questions about the story in itself came up. I can tell you that the timeline in modern Lima and the one on the titanic aren't going to switch many times. The Lima timeline is set in the prologue and in the end. Everything in between is set on the titanic. Just wait and see! You're going to understand where I am going with this :)
Secondly, I describe the architect of the ship as a man with gray hair. I took his appearance from the movie.
Additionally, I recall that in the movie, it was said that Molly Brown boarded the Titanic later, but I couldn't find any evidence of that, so she is now traveling from the beginning. Furthermore, you will surely see similarities to the prologue, but this will be explained later in the story.
PS: The subtitle for the prologue was from 'Tonight' by Westside Story, and the one for this chapter is from 'Uninvited' by Alanis Morissette and doesn't directly relate to the chapter, but I thought it was fitting.
Chapter 1
But you, you're not allowed. You're uninvited.
Kurt Hummel looked tiredly at the large ship in front of him. Excited conversations around him made his temples ache and further diminished his enthusiasm for this journey. But for everyone else around him, including his two companions, the anticipation and grandeur of the ship seemed to have clouded their judgment. After all, they were standing in front of the legendary RMS Titanic. The unsinkable Titanic, which not even God could sink.
So, Kurt put on a neutral expression, one that his companions knew all too well. For him, the ship was nothing more than having to leave his beloved England behind and reach the dreadful city called New York, where he would marry his beautiful fiancée.
"Do you have the tickets, Hummel?" the black-haired woman to his right interrupted his thoughts. Kurt nodded and pulled three tickets from his suit pocket, which would take them across the sea to New York. The Latina woman clicked her tongue in annoyance, even though she had no reason to. The blonde woman to his left leaned over the paper. "Are those real?" she asked, her eyes wide with anxiety. "Of course, Ms. Pierce," reassured the Latina, Ms. Santana Lopez, and gave him a long, disdainful look, even though Kurt was not aware of any wrongdoing in this context.
Kurt had not known the two women for long. He had met Brittany S. Pierce at a dinner where only the richest people of England had been invited to. If it hadn't been for Dave Karofsky's threat that Kurt had to get involved with a woman soon, or else he would reveal his secret, Kurt would never have paid attention to the fired waitress, whose family was so indebted that their not-so-wealthy neighbor, Ms. Lopez, had to support them as best as she could.
Kurt hadn't hesitated for long and had proposed to the blonde, who had accepted it all too gladly. Since then, Ms. Lopez seemed to hate him, even though she officially had no reason to, as she lived off his money just like Ms. Pierce. But Kurt mostly ignored her because he suspected that she harbored the same secret as he did, or as Dave Karofsky did, a big, burly man whose family was not as wealthy as Kurt's and who had always harbored great envy for it. Dave Karofsky carried the same secret as Kurt himself, but he wouldn't discover that until years later.
Now Kurt also leaned over the tickets in his hands to show his confused fiancée that they were not false.
Just then, someone from behind ran into him, the sudden momentum almost causing Kurt to topple forward. Instead, he dropped the Titanic tickets, as did the young, black-haired man who hurriedly picked up his one, got up, and called out to him as he continued walking, "I'm sorry, Sir."
"Damn third class," grumbled Kurt, picking up the lost tickets himself and handing two of them to Ms. Pierce and Ms. Lopez before someone else shamelessly ran into him again. With a fluid motion of his arm, he indicated to his companions to board the ship ahead of him and turned to a neatly dressed crew member to give him the order to stow their luggage in the suites assigned to them.
When Kurt finally presented his own ticket, the inspector furrowed his brow, but he smiled politely. "Keep to the right, Sir, take the elevator down to the E-deck, and follow the corridor there. You should find your room to the left."
Kurt nodded, memorized the directions, and secretly swore about the fact that no one was escorting him.
It was only when he stood directly in front of his door and compared the number one last time with the one on his card that it struck him like a ton of bricks. He was not in first class; he was in third class. Why the hell did Kurt have a third-class ticket and not a first-class one. He paid a lot of money for it! And why couldn't he see his two companions anywhere?
Kurt must have picked up the wrong ticket when that scoundrel almost ran him over. Frustrated, Kurt opened the door to "his" room and immediately recoiled in disgust. The room behind the door was small, so small that Kurt could barely turn around in it and it had two bunk beds. He would definitely not stay here.
With his skin tingling from anger and outrage, Kurt quickly turned on his heel and searched for the thief who was now surely enjoying himself in his suite, or for Ms. Lopez and Ms. Pierce, who had surely noticed his absence and the presence of the stranger.
But as soon as Kurt was back on deck, he spotted the two women arm in arm on a bench by the railing. Ms. Lopez looked slightly green, and Ms. Pierce was stroking her back soothingly. "Where were you, Hummel, when you were needed? It should be your job to hold me now that I'm not feeling well," Ms. Lopez scolded, despite her own poor condition, as soon as Kurt had reached them. Kurt took a deep breath and tried not to show that he wanted to scream. He couldn't afford this kind of attention.
"I was robbed of my ticket," he explained. "When I dropped the tickets, that... man from third class must have taken mine. If you would excuse me for a moment, I need to make sure our belongings are still there and intact."
Without another glance at the two women, he stormed toward the first-class suites. Fortunately, he still knew which one was his, or else leaving his fiancée on deck would not have been a wise choice. So, he pounded on his door seconds later. "Open up!" he yelled. "This is Kurt Hummel, the rightful owner of this suite, and I warn you, if you don't come out immediately, I will have you thrown off the ship." Kurt held his breath, but the door didn't open. With a loud sigh, Kurt pushed down the handle, and to his
surprise, it opened right away.
Ignoring his pounding heart, he entered slowly. If the man was still in the suite, he was clearly at an advantage. He could carry dozens of weapons with him, which he could have found in Kurt's mansion - candlesticks, books, or vases - and all Kurt had was the clothes on his body, which wouldn't be very useful unless he wanted to throw his expensive jacket over the thief.
Kurt quietly closed the door behind him and listened, but it was deadly silent.
With trembling fingers, he opened the first door to his right. Kurt would never admit that, in addition to anger at the lower-class man, he also felt fear. So much could go wrong here.
The man could have trashed the suite or robbed him. He could be terribly criminal and violent, and...
Relieved, Kurt found that there was no one in the near bathroom, and his suitcase was seemingly locked in there. Cautiously, he continued into the next room, where there was no one to be found either. Perhaps Kurt was heartless, but if the man had collapsed dead because the expensive splendor of the room had taken his breath away, it would satisfy him. There was nothing to be found in the other rooms either and no losses regarding his luggage. Frustrated, he turned back and looked for someone on the ship's corridors to complain to. Countless wealthy people walked past him, their backs as stiff as he knew his own to be.
"Mr. Andrews!" he exclaimed in relief when he finally found someone who could really help him. The ship's architect with the gray hair stood still on a large, elegant staircase amidst all the men in suits, his eyes scanning the passengers until Kurt was just a few steps below him. "Mr. Andrews!"
Mr. Andrews gave him a polite smile. "Mr. Hummel, am I correct? What brings me the honor?"
In a different situation, Kurt might have paused and wondered how it could be an honor for the ship's architect to be addressed by him. Instead, he hurried to voice his complaint.
"I was just robbed of my ticket, Mr. Andrews. A young man from third class now has the key to my suite, while the room he was supposed to occupy doesn't even have a lock! I demand this man to be found immediately!"
Mr. Andrews folded his hands in front of him and didn't seem to be in a hurry to find the thief.
"Can you tell me which room the young man is supposed to occupy, Mr. Hummel?" he asked.
Kurt pulled the slightly crumpled card from his suit pocket. "E-Deck, Room 52, Sir," he replied, suppressing a shiver as he thought back to the chamber.
Mr. Andrews nodded. "Can you also describe his appearance to me so that our crew members can locate him more quickly?"
Kurt closed his eyes for a moment to remember the few seconds. "He was a bit shorter than me," he described thoughtfully. "He had black curls that stood wildly from his head, possibly an Italian. He wore a white top, more or less light-colored pants, and suspenders."
A strong hand rested on his shoulder. "We'll find the man and then inform you, Mr. Hummel, all right?"
Kurt couldn't relax as he sat on the Titanic's deck moments later, looking out for the thief. He had considered going back to his actual room and waiting for the man there, but he had been quickly assured that a crew member would be supervising there, so Kurt had gone on
deck and sat far away from his fiancée and her neighbor from hell on a bench. Countless thoughts raced through his mind. How would they find the man when they only had his vague description? What could they do with the information about which room he was supposed to occupy? How would he be punished? The thief surely couldn't afford a fine.
Only when he felt a delicate hand on the back of his hand did Kurt come back to reality. Ms. Pierce stood in front of him, her head tilted. "Are you not feeling well, Kurt?" she asked and sat down next to him.
When Kurt had first met her, he had been terribly annoyed that the blonde didn't use formal language like everyone else. After all, this was about politeness and manners, which she clearly lacked. But by now, he had gotten used to this fact. Ms. Pierce never addressed anyone politely, and Kurt was starting to believe that she didn't know how to.
Kurt pushed up the sleeve of his jacket and looked at his watch. "I've been waiting for the man who robbed me of my ticket to be found for two hours now, but nothing has happened so far. I'm a bit tense," he replied. "How is Ms. Lopez?"
Ms. Pierce shrugged and intertwined her hand with Kurt's. "Santana is resting in her room a bit. But she told me to tell you that it's time for dinner now, and I think she's right. After you've eaten, you'll surely feel better."
Kurt nodded. Just because his ticket had been stolen didn't mean he would skip dinner. In a room full of wealthy people, he would surely be distracted from his troubles, as he had to be approachable there.
Kurt had just sat down at his table, his eyes scanning both familiar and unfamiliar faces when he suddenly froze. Not much further, perhaps three tables away from his, a young man with slicked-back black hair was sitting, chatting merrily with Molly Brown, a woman who just recently come into money. The jacket he was wearing, which was a little too long at the sleeves, was very familiar to Kurt.
"Thief!" Kurt exclaimed and was back on his feet within seconds.
The man looked up, panic gleaming in his eyes, and then he was on his feet and rushed out of the dining room.
