Hello, everyone!
Today you'll get the second chapter of the story. So just a few notes right away.
You'll come across the word "leatheann" later on. I don't speak Irish (I mean English isn't even my first language), so I used Google for that, but it means "idiot". This leads me to announce that in the next chapters, I'll be incorporating some Italian here and there. If the meaning isn't immediately explained, you don't need to Google it; the explanation will come later.
PS: The subtitle used here is from "No Air" by Jorden Sparks, and I find it quite fitting in some places. :D.
Chapter 2
Tell me how I'm supposed to breath with no air?
To see Kurt Hummel running was something that never happend. Usually, he got around the city in cars or took short walks. There was no need for him to move faster unless he was in a vehicle.
Cold sea air whipped at his face, the smell of salt filling his nose, something he would normally have enjoyed. He panted heavily as he chased after the young man in his jacket, his lungs burning from the unfamiliar movement. Kurt hoped that one of the crew members would finally notice what was happening, but as soon as Kurt reached the deck, he saw no one.
"Stop!" he cried, unable to do more. A suit was not the best choice to wear if you were planning to go for a run. Where did the man think he was going? He couldn't escape Kurt no matter where he ran, unless he jumped off the ship, which he doubted. The man suddenly turned around and ran past Kurt so quickly that he didn't even understand what was happening. Kurt bent over, taking a deep breath and forcing himself to keep running.
What did this rat think he was doing? When the man ran back inside the ship and dashed down the stairs, Kurt felt like he could collapse at any moment. Where did the man get this endurance from? Abruptly, the thief stopped, almost causing Kurt to run into him if he hadn't opened a door and disappeared inside. Kurt recognized the room from earlier, the one his "ticket" had led him to. He hurriedly entered the room and closed the door behind him before the man could block it with something and he missed his chance.
"Dead end," he noted between two breaths. The man stood against the far wall, his arms raised in a peacefull gesture, holding a key in one hand. Kurt's key. "What do you think you're doing?" Kurt yelled when his lungs had enough air again. "First, you almost run me over, then you steal my ticket and go through my belongings, which you seem to have also claimed as your own, and then you have the audacity to run away from me? You should be thrown off this ship, and I'll personally make sure of it." The man's eyes widened in alarm. "Please, no," he said with a strong Italian accent. At least Kurt had been right about the man's origin. "You'll get your suite and your jacket back, I promise. It was all a big misunderstanding!"
Kurt's eyebrows shot up. "A misunderstanding?" He laughed dryly. "You stole from me! I'm sure bumping into me was part of your plan to get some money." The man shook his head frantically and took off the jacket, holding it out to him. "That was not my intention at all; you have to believe me! I didn't mean to get the wrong ticket." Kurt snatched the jacket and the key from him and crossed his arms. His patience had clearly run out. "And how do you explain that you touched my clothes and my hair products? It must have been well thought out because all the suitcases were locked when I arrived in my suite." The man's cheeks reddened. "I entered the room and was caught by curiosity. I had no intention of stealing your jacket; I just wanted to put it on and feel what it's like—" He paused. "In any case, I didn't intend to steal it, but then I heard footsteps in the corridor and made a run for it." "And why did you run away from me?" Kurt didn't believe a word he was saying. The man lowered his head. "I panicked." Kurt decided he had had enough. He firmly grabbed the man's arm and dragged him out of the room. He expected the black-haired man to resist his grip, but he didn't. The man merely raised his gaze and let himself be pulled by Kurt. "Please don't throw me overboard!" he begged. Kurt didn't respond. He didn't owe him an answer; after all, he was the victim. They walked in silence to the elevator, which would take them back to the first-class deck.
Once there, Mr. Andrews, Ms. Pierce, and Ms. Lopez were already approaching them. The latter had her lips pressed into a thin line, hiding her anger, but she spoke: "Mr. Hummel, we were terribly worried about you when you abruptly left your meal. We're relieved to see that you're okay." Kurt stiffly nodded at the Latina. "I was distracted. I found the man who stole my card and my belongings. Mr. Andrews, what punishment do you suggest?" Mr. Andrews opened his mouth to answer but was interrupted by Ms. Pierce, who took a step toward the lower-class man and put her small hand over his. "We should take him back to dinner. He abruptly left too. I bet he's hungry." Kurt shook his head in disbelief and looked to Mr. Andrews, who also appeared confused by the intertwining hands. "I'm afraid I cannot approve of that, as the first-class dining room is reserved only for them. Normally, I would sentence the young man to spend the rest of the journey in the lower decks, tied up so he cannot leave the room, but—" Kurt leaned in further. "But?" he asked. Mr. Andrews wasn't actually going to tell him that this man, whom he still held by the arm and who hadn't said a word since pleading not to be thrown overboard, wouldn't be punished. Being locked in a room for the rest of the journey sounded rather lenient to Kurt, considering he would have preferred to see him swimming in the water. It's not that he was heartless, not at all. Kurt cared about the people he loved, but he wouldn't tolerate such behavior. "But," Mr. Andrews interrupted his thoughts again, "as I see, you do have your belongings back, as well as the key to your suite. So, I suggest we confine him to the suite for the remainder of the day."
The man sighed with relief. "Thank you! Thank you! I won't make a sound." Mr. Andrews patted Kurt on the shoulder. "How about you return to your meal now, and I'll take care of the passenger, all right?" Kurt watched the older architect as he held the man by the sleeve and led him in the direction Kurt had just come from. The man had lowered his head again and seemed to be talking to Mr. Andrews, but Kurt couldn't hear what he was saying. It wasn't until he could no longer see the gelled, black hair that he turned back to Ms. Lopez and Ms. Pierce. Ms. Lopez glared at him. "Everyone has been talking about you, Hummel!" she hissed. "From now on, they'll all look at us like we're pests." Kurt bit his lower lip and closed his eyes for a few seconds before straightening his back, raising his chin, and offering his arm to Ms. Pierce. "I'll take care of it, Ms. Lopez, don't worry."
Meanwhile, in the dining room, dessert had been served, but Kurt had lost his appetite. The journey on the "Ship of Dreams" had begun as a journey on the "Ship of Nightmares." Kurt was just waiting for the opportunity to get up, unpack his suitcases, and lie down on his bed in his room. He wanted to enjoy his remaining free days before becoming a man bound to a woman he didn't love. "Have you seen Mr. Anderson, Mr. Hummel?" asked Molly Brown, who must have taken the opportunity to sit across from him while he was on the deck. Kurt raised his eyebrows and took a sip of wine. "Who are you talking about?" Ms. Brown took a sip of her own wine and leaned over the table, so she didn't have to speak so loudly. "The young man I spoke to earlier. Friendly face, black hair, quite a cutie. I thought you might have seen him since you also left the dining room." Kurt remembered seeing the man who had stolen from him talking to Molly before he fled the room. "He's where he belongs now," he replied and drank his wine. "If you'll excuse me now, I'm going to my suite," he added and stood up.
Tired and exhausted, Kurt walked on the deck the next morning. He had thought that unpacking his suitcases would provide a distraction, but he kept wondering how the young man - Mr. Anderson, as Ms. Brown had revealed - had gone about searching through them. Did he have a system, or did he simply open all the suitcases? And why had he chosen a jacket and hair gel, even though Kurt had diamonds and other treasures with him? Sleep wouldn't come later either. As he lay in his bed, Ms. Pierce in his arms, he felt lonelier than ever. If his father were still alive, he would shake his head at his son if he saw him like this. Kurt could almost hear his father's words in his head. "Kid, your person, your feelings mean something! Hell, if you don't fancy women, then so be it. Don't pretend to be someone you're not, least of all to yourself! It doesn't matter what those other rich snobs think of us. For me, it only matters that you're happy." Burt Hummel had probably always been ahead of his time, but Kurt couldn't allow his family's reputation to be destroyed just because of him. His father and even Burt's father had worked too hard for it.
When Ms. Pierce and Ms. Lopez announced after breakfast that they would retreat to their suites, Kurt took the opportunity to get some fresh air and dispel the suffocating feeling in his chest. Kurt buried his hands in the pockets of his black suit pants. He usually loved fashion. The dark red shirt he wore emphasized the right parts of his upper body and caressed his arms, and the blue-ish tie he wore brought out his eye color nicely. However, for some time now, the layers of his clothing felt like a prison, and the tie threatened to strangle him. Kurt couldn't imagine spending his life with the blonde woman, and even less with her neighbor, who probably wished him dead. Kurt raised his head and clung to the ship's railing. No matter where he looked, all he saw was the sea. Rushing water, so clear yet full of secrets. Kurt wished to be one of the fish in those waters. They were so free and had to worry about nothing except the fear of being caught. Kurt, on the other hand, had been trapped for a long time.
Words reached his ears, words that should have been quiet and alarmed but were loud and clear to him. "Blaine!" someone hissed. "Blaine, come back, you'll get into more trouble! What are you doing, you leathcheann? Didn't the night in the cells teach you anything?" Kurt turned his head in the direction of the Irishman's voice- He could'nt see him but instead... "Mr. Anderson," Kurt growled. "I wouldn't have thought you were as dumb as to show up here again. Didn't you hear your friend?" Mr. Anderson raised his eyebrows, dark eyebrows that almost looked like triangles on his face. "My friend?" he asked and looked over his shoulder down to the third-class deck. "Oh, you mean Rory! He shares a room with me, but I only met him this morning because I didn't have a chance to get to know him yesterday." Kurt crossed his arms. "Oh by the way: Just because Mr. Andrews was so gracious to you doesn't mean I'm not ready to call the crew again. As your friend correctly noted, you're not supposed to be on this deck, and if it were up to me, you would have been swimming in the water for the past fifteen hours already." Mr. Anderson scratched his head. His hair was no longer slicked back, and wild curls fell into his face. "I know, I know," he hurried to say. "I just wanted to apologize to you again for my behavior and actions yesterday because I'm truly not a thief. As compensation, I would like to offer you my company. As nice as it looks on your deck, on the one below us, you can have much more fun, and it would be an honor for me to introduce you to that fun."
Kurt snorted. "What makes you think I'll accept this offer?" What did this man think he was doing? Did he even think at all? Mr. Anderson shrugged. "You seem tense, which I can't blame you for, considering the company you're surrounded by. Besides, I saw you with these two women yesterday. Molly Brown told me one of them is your fiancée, and since they're not with you right now, I assume you're running away from them. On my deck, no one would know you, and no one would judge you. What do you say, will you come with me?" Mr. Anderson extended a hand for Kurt to take. Kurt couldn't get over the man's audacity. How could he just intrude on his life like this? Kurt raised his gaze from the outstretched hand to the man's face. Mr. Anderson's brown-green eyes sparkled in the sunlight, and there was a warm smile on his lips. Kurt looked at the suit-wearing men strolling around with their chins held high on the deck and made a quick decision. He would run away from his life for five minutes. He didn't take the man's hand, but he nodded at him. "I'll go back upstairs immediately if I don't like it and report to the crew that you were in the first-class area," he said, watching as a smile spread across Mr. Anderson's face. Kurt might hate this man, but he desperately needed a break from his life and a brief moment to breathe—the kind of air that his fiancée, her neighbor, and society were suffocating him of.