Hello dear ones, here I am again with Chapter 4!
As you know me by now: I can't do without notes.

Firstly, in this chapter, there is talk about a few people you surely know. Two individuals are named, two or maybe three others are not, but I believe it's clear who is being referred to.

Secondly, did I ever mention that Molly Brown somehow grew on me? ;)

Furthermore, at the end, there's a sentence in Italian that isn't explained. However, that will be clarified in the next chapter.

PS: The subtitle used here is from "Breakeven" by The Script and is the first subtitle that hasn't been covered by Glee.


Chapter 4

I'm still alive but I'm barely breathing. Just prayed to a God that I don't believe in

"Mr. Hummel, have you heard from Mr. Anderson recently?"

Kurt carefully set down his utensils and looked up. "Mr. Anderson?" he asked Molly Brown, who gave him a look that sent chills down Kurt's spine. How could she possibly know that he had met with Blaine? Or maybe she didn't know at all? Kurt decided to assume the latter, as he could feel Ms. Lopez's eyes on him as well, and he had already had enough stress with her today. Damn it, he just wanted to eat in peace, and what he had done today wasn't terribly wrong.

"I'm sorry, I don't know who you mean," he said, at which point Mrs. Brown also set down her utensils.

"The young man I spoke with yesterday, the one with black hair and a friendly smile. Yesterday, you knew where he was, so I wanted to ask if you might also know today, as he needs to continue telling me the exciting story he started."

Kurt took a sip of his water and then picked up his utensils again. "Unfortunately, I don't know where you can find him."

Ms. Lopez's gaze was still piercing, so Kurt smiled at her. "Can I pass you something?"

"I would normally say you could pass me the salt, but I imagine your day has been quite exhausting, so I don't want to burden you with that," replied the dark-haired woman, receiving the unnecessary salt from Ms. Pierce. Internally, Kurt rolled his eyes at the way Ms. Lopez was trying to extract information from him.

"What have you ladies been up to this morning?" Kurt redirected the conversation to a safer topic. Ms. Lopez opened her mouth, and Kurt could tell she wanted to give him a snide answer, but Ms. Pierce's eyes were already sparkling. "Santana told me stories about all the wealthy people here," she said. "She promised to take a walk with me on deck this afternoon."

Ms. Lopez nodded in agreement. "You'll join us, won't you, Mr. Hummel?" Kurt patted Ms. Pierce's hand, which seemed to be excitedly hopping on her chair. "But of course, I'll accompany you."

Silently, after this brief conversation, Kurt returned his attention to his meal and ignored the stares from Ms. Lopez and Mrs. Brown, who leaned forward one more time and mentioned that she would like to speak with him after dinner.

Kurt tried not to show his nervousness and reminded himself repeatedly that he had done nothing wrong. He had simply engaged in conversation with a man; it wasn't as if he had cheated on his fiancée or something. Although Ms. Lopez's thoughts seemed to be going in that direction, as the angry glint in her eyes showed no signs of fading.

—-

"How can I assist you, Mrs. Brown?"

Hands buried in his suit pockets, Kurt stood at the door that would lead him outside, facing Molly Brown and waiting for Ms. Pierce and Ms. Lopez, who still wanted to retrieve their hats from their suites.

Mrs. Brown leaned forward and placed her gloved hand on Kurt's forearm, a smile on her face. "I know that Mr. Anderson has his quarters in the lower decks," she said, and Kurt's eyebrows shot up.

"Why are you so interested in him?" he asked. "You don't happen to have your eye on him, do you?"

Mrs. Brown rolled her eyes, a gesture that indicated she hadn't always belonged to the wealthy class. "Listen to me," she chuckled and tugged at her white glove. "I noticed it when I spoke with him yesterday. He doesn't talk and stand as stiffly as one would expect from a gentleman. Besides, his trousers didn't match his jacket. What I'm getting at, though, is that I saw you with him this morning, down on the third-class deck."

Kurt raised his chin, as he always did when he felt the need to defend himself. "That must have been a mistake, I-" he began but was immediately interrupted.

"This is by no means an accusation," Molly Brown hastened to say. "On the contrary, I noticed it myself when I spoke with the young man and saw how likable he is. I wanted to encourage you not to simply cut off this contact. I believe the boundaries between classes should be blurred much more, and the prejudice that people from a lower class are worth less should be forgotten once and for all."

Kurt looked around for eavesdroppers and then leaned in towards Mrs. Brown. "After some differences, I have to admit that Mr. Anderson is okay," he whispered. "However, you must promise me not to tell anyone that I spoke with him, as I don't want to tarnish my father's good reputation."

Just in time, Kurt straightened up as his fiancée and her neighbor joined him. "Of course," Mrs. Brown said, "I'll let you enjoy your afternoon and see who I can bother." With a wink, she turned and disappeared down one of the many corridors leading away from the deck.

"What did Molly want?" Ms. Pierce inquired, linking her arm with his. Kurt admired her large, green hat perched on her head and began to move. "She just told me how beautiful my companions are."

Two days ago, Kurt would have described the first-class deck as "vibrant." Women and men in dresses, hats, and suits, all costing more than most people earned to survive for a month, strolled about, turning their faces toward the sun and complaining that the scent of seawater would probably never come out of their expensive fabrics.

But the "vibrancy" of the first-class deck couldn't even begin to compare with that on the lower deck.

Ms. Pierce continued to talk about the rumors Ms. Lopez had told her earlier in the day, revolving around wealthy individuals like Mrs. Fabray, who had originally come from America but had had an affair with another American in Sweden and was rumored to have borne a child there before leaving the man with the child in Sweden and returning to America.

Kurt was already familiar with these rumors, but he didn't admit it, because as long as Ms. Pierce talked, Ms. Lopez rarely interrupted her, and Kurt didn't voluntarily give up this opportunity.

"Can we go over there, Kurt?" the blonde turned to Kurt when she couldn't think of any more rumors and pointed to the railing where the stairs led to the lower deck. "You can see the whole ship from there."

The deck below them was, as expected, bustling, and even though Kurt couldn't hear what the various conversations were about, the volume was significant, and it distracted Ms. Pierce for a while. Only Ms. Lopez groaned at the noise and crossed her arms in front of her chest. "That crowd down there is having way too much fun," she grumbled.

Kurt decided to simply ignore her statement and let his gaze wander over the people. He didn't even understand why he hadn't immediately agreed with her, as he normally would have. Was it because of what Molly Brown had said to him, or was it really because of the dark-haired man?

When that very man came into his field of vision, Kurt realized that he had been looking out for him. Blaine stood further back next to his Irish roommate, gesturing wildly as he conversed. He hadn't changed since Kurt had said goodbye to him, and his curls still swirled around his head. Kurt would pay a lot of money to be able to run down the stairs right now and leave the two women by his side. If Kurt wanted to be himself anywhere, it was probably most likely with Mr. Anderson.

By the time Kurt had some time to himself, it was long after dinner, and he got this break only because Ms. Lopez had a migraine, and Ms. Pierce insisted on staying with her.

After their walk, the three of them had gone back inside and talked to the ship's architect, who told them how he came up with the idea to build the ship the way he had.

Now Kurt stood at the railing on the third-class deck, the night sky arched above his head, and the cold wind tugged at his clothing.

Kurt took a deep breath and closed his eyes. The silence he found himself in was as pleasant as silence rarely was. There were no more wealthy snobs around him, and quiet had settled on the deck below him. How he wished it could always be this way. No need to be afraid of tarnishing his family's reputation, no need to think about his fiancée, just longing for the touch of another man. It was so easy to believe, if only for a moment, that he could live his life the way he wanted.

"Kurt?"

Slowly and reluctantly, Kurt opened his eyes. This peaceful moment seemed to last so long. But instead of Ms. Pierce, Blaine was standing by the gate on the staircase, his arms resting on the railing, grinning at Kurt.

"Mr. Anderson?" Kurt asked in surprise. "Shouldn't you be in your bed by now, listening to Irish bedtime stories?"

Blaine rested his chin on his palm and looked up at him with a tilted head. "Shouldn't you be at some luxurious event?" he countered.

Kurt sighed. "I suppose I should. What brings you here?"

Blaine made circular motions with his free hand. "I was still out in the fresh air, and I saw you standing up here. Are you busy at the moment?"

Kurt looked over both shoulders to make sure no one was here to see him talking to the young man. "Terribly busy," he groaned, placing a hand on the gate that blocked the passage to the stairs. Blaine stepped aside, opened the gate, and bowed slightly.

"What are you doing?" Kurt asked.

Blaine extended his arm so Kurt could hook his arm through it. "Isn't this how one should behave toward a fine gentleman?"

Kurt shook his head, a faint smile creeping onto his lips. "Can we sit on a bench?" he asked, pointing to a bench behind a column. Blaine let his arm drop again and led the way. "What are you doing out here?" he asked, sitting down. Kurt sat next to him, a good hand's width between their bodies.

"I fled from Ms. Pierce and Ms. Lopez," he admitted and folded his hands in his lap.

Blaine pulled one leg up to his chest, loosely wrapping both arms around it, and turned so he could look at Kurt's face. "You seem to do that quite often. Why do you avoid your fiancée?"

Kurt kneaded his hands and dared not meet Mr. Anderson's gaze. "Isn't it enough that I'll see her every hour of every day soon?"

Blaine remained silent for a few seconds, and all Kurt could hear was the sound of the sea.

"You don't sound very much in love, if you ask me," he finally said. "Shouldn't you always want to be near the person you love? Not want to take your eyes off her and keep your hands to yourself?"

Abruptly, Kurt turned his head. "You don't know anything!" he exclaimed.

Blaine shrugged. "You don't need to defend yourself to me. What harm can I do? After we leave this ship, I'll never see you again. I know a lot about love, but you don't seem to be in love. Do you have to marry her?"

Kurt's heart pounded painfully, and he slumped his shoulders. "One could say that. Why can you tell from looking at me?"

Blaine placed an arm on the backrest of the bench and scooted forward a bit. "I was once terribly in love with this Frenchman," he said, as if it were the most normal thing in the world. Kurt's jaw dropped. "With a man?"

Kurt's eyes roved over the dimly lit silhouette of the man in front of him. His legs were muscular, as he had noticed before, the skin that peeked out from under his shirt was tanned, and his black curls framed his soft features. Never in his life would Kurt have thought that Mr. Anderson wasn't interested in women.

"The most handsome man I had ever come across," he confirmed.

Curious, Kurt moved closer. "What happened to him?"

Blaine smiled. "He met a wealthy lady and married her. He didn't even say goodbye."

Sympathy washed over Kurt. "Did you have a good time with him? I mean, before he left you for the woman?"

Blaine nodded. "The best time I had until this journey here."

Kurt sighed heavily. "I wish a handsome man would be waiting for me in my suite instead of Ms. Pierce." Shocked by what he had said, he widened his eyes. "You must not tell anyone that I just said that!"

Blaine laughed, and his arm, which had been on the backrest of the bench, wrapped around Kurt's shoulders. "I won't," he assured.

"Good." Kurt shivered, pulling his suit jacket tighter around him, his arm wrapped around his shoulders trembling. He looked at Blaine in alarm. "You're only wearing this thin shirt!" he gasped. "Aren't you cold? Should we go to your room and get you a jacket?"

Blaine shook his head. "We don't need to go to my room because we won't find a jacket there. I traveled without one, or at least not from the beginning. Before I boarded the Titanic - and before I bumped into you - I gave my jacket to a man who had his luggage stolen."

Kurt was momentarily speechless, then he stood up from the bench, so he couldn't change his mind. "Wait here," he said, turning to the stairs and hurrying up them. If someone had told him yesterday that he would lend a jacket to the person who had stolen from him, he would have locked that person up with Mr. Anderson.

As quickly as possible, Kurt reached his suite, opened the door, and thankfully found the adjacent rooms empty, which meant Ms. Pierce was still in Ms. Lopez's suite. Kurt opened his wardrobe and rummaged through the many jackets inside. Expensive fabrics, cut to perfection to complement Kurt's body, but nothing that would suit Blaine in any way. He continued to search, his fingers brushing over thicker, black material, and he pulled out the woolen jacket. It wasn't a jacket he often wore because it didn't go well with his outfits, but it would serve its purpose. He draped it over his arm, locked the suite, and quietly made his way through the corridor so no one could hear him.

Blaine sat on the bench unchanged, one leg pressed against his chest, his gaze fixed on the sky, and as he heard footsteps, he looked at Kurt. "I brought you a jacket," Kurt explained, sitting down next to him again and handing it to him. "I have to admit it's not as fashionable, but I'll lend it to you. You can give it back to me when we disembark from the Titanic."

Blaine's fingers ran over the soft fabric, a smile spread across his face, and he smoothly slid into the jacket. "Thank you," he said, his right arm resting on the bench's back, his hand lightly touching Kurt's shoulder. Kurt instinctively moved closer, almost compelled by the sudden warmth emanating from the man.

"Where are you going once the Titanic docks in New York?" he asked softly, as if not wanting to disturb the silence around them. Blaine brought his other leg up and put his left hand into the warm pocket of the jacket he was wearing. "I'm moving in with my cousin Rachel. Her mother is my father's sister. When I told her I was coming, she sent me pictures of New York and her small apartment in Brooklyn. I already feel that freedom the city has to offer."

"I don't. These days on the ship are probably the closest I'll come to experiencing freedom," Kurt murmured and felt Blaine's arm wrap around his shoulder again. It was a position Kurt shouldn't be in and yet couldn't help leaning against the young man.

"Do your parents want you to marry Ms. Pierce?" Kurt lifted his head and stared at the sky, similar to how he had watched Blaine. "Probably not," Kurt replied honestly. "They are no longer alive, but I know they wouldn't have wanted it."

Blaine's fingers traced some patterns on Kurt's upper arms, and he tore his gaze away from the sky to the slender hand, the contact with his arm so soothing. "I'm sorry," Blaine whispered. "Then why do you do it?"

For a while, Kurt just breathed in and out. Snippets of conversation rang in his ears. "I don't want to tarnish the family's reputation. My mother died early, and my father knew I was gay, but in the society I live in, it's worse than being a drug addict or something. Someone threatened to tell everyone that I'm not interested in women if I don't settle down soon."

Blaine patted him on the shoulder, not unkindly, like so many had done before, but encouragingly. "Then I'll make sure you enjoy this journey," he said and grinned at Kurt.

Kurt's lips twitched. "You certainly have a lot to do, Mr. Anderson. I'm still angry about the incident yesterday."

Blaine leaned his head back and laughed. "How can I make it up to you?"

Kurt waved it off and bumped his shoulder. "Why don't you just speak in Italian whenever your roommate speaks in his language?"

Blaine imitated Kurt's movement and bumped him back with his shoulder. "Where would that lead?"

Kurt shrugged. "It would be amusing. Say something."

"What should I say?"

"In Italian. Anything."

Blaine furrowed his brow as he thought. "Avete dei occhi meravigliosi." Kurt's eyebrows shot up. "What does that mean?" he asked, trying not to let his curiosity show. "I won't tell you," Blaine teased, sliding a few inches away. Kurt put his hands on his hips. "You better tell me what it means, or I'll fetch the crew, Mr. Anderson."

Defensively, Blaine raised his arms. "Okay," he said after a moment's hesitation. "It means... 'You're stubborn!'" Kurt snorted in outrage. "That's not what it means! You hesitated. I'll keep asking until I really know what it means."

Blaine's grin was interrupted by a yawn. "I should probably head to my room soon. I guess I'm pretty tired after barely sleeping last night. Will you ask me about the meaning of the sentence tomorrow?"

Kurt bit his lower lip and stood up. "Maybe," he replied, extending his hand to the young man. "As you put it so nicely this afternoon, I've enjoyed your company."

Blaine took his hand, his skin warm, and shook it. "I have too. Have a good night."

Kurt smiled slightly. "You too," he replied, turned around, and made his way back to his suite.