Happy Tuesday, loves. Had to update a little sooner because I won't be home tomorrow. I hope you don't mind :)
I'm back with chapter 3, and this one's song is The Way I Feel.
Thank you so much for all the great comments so far, and thanks to Christine and Sofi for being the best team ever.
Hope you enjoy this chapter!
Well they said you were a bright child
Never anything but joy behind your eyes
No sign of all the dark clouds
Spreading like volcanic dust over your blue skies
Now they're looking for an answer
Where the rot set in and set up the landslide
But it only makes it worse now
You're like a puzzle to be worked out
There was something rather lovely about the quietness of an empty classroom. Blaine took his time picking up pencils and forgotten items that went into the Lost and Found box in the cabinet. He straightened up the chairs and desks and reorganized the small bookshelf in the back. He watered the plants they kept on the windowsill and rechecked his lesson plan for the next day.
Blaine wasn't eager to get home.
Jack had had the day off today, which meant he had picked the kids up at school, and they were supposed to have what had become a rare family dinner. They almost never found the time to sit down, all four of them, and catch up on each other's lives. But now all Blaine could think about was whether Jack had spent his afternoon fucking someone else. How could he sit at a table with him and have a normal conversation in front of the kids when that question seemed to be the only thing filling his head?
He had made his choice. He had told Cooper that he wasn't going to say anything or do anything, that he was going to protect his kids from this. But he found that it was so, so hard to pretend that everything was okay. Was he going to learn? Was he going to get better at it? Was he going to live the rest of his life smiling through dinners and family vacations and anniversaries when deep down inside he knew?
How did Jack do this? How did he look at Blaine and pretended everything was normal, that he wasn't doing something so monumentally life-changing, something that had the potential to drop a hypothetical bomb into their home and keep going?
Was he planning to leave Blaine? Was he just gathering the courage to take that step and ask him for a divorce?
It wasn't something that Blaine had thought of until now, but now that the idea crossed his mind, he felt the panic rise like bile in his throat. He felt sick.
Just as he was trying to tell himself not to throw up all over the classroom floor, he caught a glimpse of something shiny. He stood up and went to inspect what it was, fishing it from under one of the desks. It was Kurt Hummel's pen, the one he had used to sign every book, the one he had named as his most prized possession.
He must have dropped it after signing the books for Lena and Theo, Blaine realized. He was going to be very upset when he realized it was gone. He would probably contact the school to ask if they had found it, but trying to track down the author gave Blaine something to focus on aside from the constant, nauseating thoughts of what if he files for divorce and what if he brought that Eddie guy into our own house and had sex with him on our bed.
Blaine put the pen in his pocket and made his way out of the classroom and down the hallway to the principal's office. He wasn't the only one who worked late, who didn't seem exactly excited about getting home today. The principal was still there, eyes on her computer screen, a pile of student files on her desk next to her.
He knocked on the door gently, not wanting to startle her and failing anyway. "Sorry," he said apologetically.
"Blaine, I didn't know you were still here," she said with a kind yet tired smile. "You're usually the first out the door. Is Jack with the kids today?"
"Yeah, it's his day off," Blaine said, and forced himself not to think about how he had spent that day.
"My daughter is with her dad, too," she said with a sigh. "I still don't get used to getting home after work and not having her there, sometimes. That's probably my least favorite part about the divorce…"
Blaine swallowed and tried to look sympathetic, but he was just wondering if that was a glimpse at his future: would he have to schedule visits with his kids when Jack left him for Eddie? What if Lena and Theo preferred living with them? What if they fell in love with Eddie and didn't care for Blaine anymore?
God, he needed to shut his brain off.
"Anyway, what can I do for you?" She asked, saving him from having to find a way to change the subject.
"I found this in my classroom," he said, showing her the pen. "It's Mr. Hummel's. He told the kids it's really important to him, so I was hoping you had a way to contact him so we can return it?"
"Yes, I have his email address here somewhere…" She clicked here and there for a few seconds. "Would you like me to contact him?"
"No, it's fine, I can do it," he said with a shrug. "You have enough on your plate. I can send him a message and ask him for a place to drop it off. I'm sure he'll be glad to get it back."
He walked out of the school fifteen minutes later, the pen still in his pocket and a little post-it with Kurt Hummel's email address written on it folded carefully next to it.
When he arrived home, he was welcomed with the smell of homemade food. Lena was standing on a stool at the kitchen counter, helping Jack toss a salad together, while Theo played in his high chair with a set of blocks.
"Hey you," Jack said with a smile. "Dinner's almost ready. Go wash your hands."
He pressed a swift yet sweet kiss to Blaine's cheek, just like he had done every evening for the past few years since they had gotten married, as if nothing had changed and time had stood still.
And when they sat at the table, the four of them like a family, Lena filled in most of the silences, and Theo needed help with his meal, so Blaine pretended he didn't notice that the kiss on the cheek was the only thing that felt familiar, that the conversation was stilted and that he wasn't sure what to say or what to do, like he was a stranger in his own home.
And Jack smiled at him across the table like he didn't notice, but all Blaine could do was wonder if he kissed Eddie's cheek hello too.
Even though he was pretending to be very interested in the movie playing on the television, Kurt was actually listening for the front door. Ian should have been home an hour ago, at least, but there were no signs of him. If he didn't know how sidetracked his husband could get when trying to leave the office, he would have been worried.
Now, he was just annoyed.
Sometimes he felt like he lived alone. If it wasn't for the ring on his finger, there wouldn't have been many reminders that he was actually a married man. He tried to remember the last time they had been out on a date, but the only one that came to mind had actually been a business date with one of the editors, right when Kurt had just finished his last book. He wanted Ian to get him flowers and take him dancing like they had when they first got together. He wanted to reach out across the mattress and feel him there, instead of waking up to an empty space most mornings. He wanted sweet, unhurried sex, instead of rushing through it just to get off like it was something else on their to-do lists.
There was an itch right under his skin, discomfort and the need for more, although he couldn't quite explain what more entailed, that had him shifting uncomfortably on the couch.
He was bored and jaded, tired of every single day being a copy of the last one, tired of feeling like he was the only one putting any kind of effort into this marriage, tired of feeling like his life was something to will away while he tried to write and fulfill his contract obligations. There had to be more than that – something like what his friends had, busy lives intertwined with the people they loved, knowing it was worth it to take time out of their days to make each other feel special. Even though they had children and life could get so, so crazy sometimes, Kurt looked at them and wondered how they made it all look so effortless and picture-perfect.
But he didn't dare ask, because he was scared that having to ask it meant there were deeper problems with him, with his marriage, with his life.
Before he could spiral into further despair and uncertainty, his phone pinged with a notification. He reached for it, hoping it was Ian letting him know when he'd be home, but found it was an email instead, from an address he didn't recognize: bdanderson at gmail dot com. It only took a moment for him to associate the name with the man he had met earlier that day – and earlier that week.
From: bdanderson at gmail dot com
To: kurt . hummel at higgingspublishing dot com
Subject: Pen
Dear Mr. Hummel,
This is Blaine Anderson. We met today at school during your meet and greet with my students. I wanted to let you know I found your pen in my classroom – you must have dropped it without noticing. I know it's very important to you, so I wanted to make sure you got it back. Where can I drop it off?
Thank you again for visiting us today, and for signing the books for my children. My daughter danced around the living room in celebration when I gave them to her.
Blaine.
Kurt felt his heart stop for a moment when he realized he had dropped the pen. It was lucky that it had happened in the classroom and not in the street when he was on his way back home. Even though for most people it would have been just a pen, it meant a lot to him. He would have been devastated if he actually lost it.
"Whenever you use it, whenever you look at it," his father had said the day he had given it to him, "I want you to remember that you're capable of doing anything you want. Not too long ago you were just a kid in Ohio who had dreams that were too big for his hometown, who had to fight for every little thing he ever got. And now you are in the city of your dreams and you found a career you can be successful at, you're making a name for yourself. Look at this pen and just remember that happiness is something you have right at your fingertips. It's up to you to hold onto it."
There was a little pang in his chest. God, he missed his dad. He had to go back to Lima more often to see him…
He turned his attention back to the email. It was really sweet of Mr. Anderson to track him down to return the pen to him. It gave him a bit of anxiety, being parted with it, so he replied at once.
From: kurt . hummel at higgingspublishing dot com
To: bdanderson at gmail dot com
Subject: Re: Pen
Mr. Anderson, I can't thank you enough for reaching out to me. It would have been such a huge loss, but I'm relieved that my pen is safely in your care. I have a few meetings early in the day, and I'm sure you'll be busy in class, so how about we meet after school, at the same coffee shop where we met the last time? Unless it's out of your way. Then please just name a place that's convenient for you, and I'll be there.
I'm very glad your daughter was happy with the books.
Kurt.
He sent the email and then turned the television off. Ian had told him he would be working late, but this was getting ridiculous. If his husband didn't care when he got home, if he didn't care that there was someone there waiting for him, then he didn't have to wait anymore.
His life felt too much like a waiting game for Kurt's taste.
He went to bed, and he didn't even notice the empty space next to him anymore.
Blaine finished printing some material to use with the kids the following day and turned the computer off. The house was quiet, which meant that Jack had been successful in putting Lena and Theo to bed. He'd heard the shower cut off about five minutes ago, so Jack had to already be in bed.
He took a deep breath and headed to their bedroom.
Jack was reading a book, glasses perched on his nose, one arm behind his head, and once upon a time, that had been the sexiest view for Blaine. Maybe it still was, only he couldn't notice his libido when his head was chanting cheater, cheater, cheater at him.
"Are the kids asleep?" He asked, even though he knew they were. They wouldn't have been this quiet if they weren't.
"Yup," Jack replied, eyes still on his book. "Lena asked me to read those books you brought her. Theo went down without a fight, he must have been tired."
"How was your day off?" Blaine got into bed and turned to face his husband. "We barely had time to talk today."
"Oh, it was good. Nothing special. Read a bit, caught up on a couple of shows, ran errands…" Jack shrugged, attention still on his book.
Blaine took another breath, deep and slow, like he was preparing himself for battle instead of for something that was supposed to feel natural by now. He moved in closer, putting his hand on Jack's chest, and pressed a kiss to his jaw. "Then you aren't tired…" he said seductively.
Jack groaned, but not in a way that indicated he was actually enjoying Blaine's ministrations. "Actually… I am," he said. "I have a big surgery tomorrow, and I should get all the rest I can."
Blaine froze. This didn't prove that Jack was cheating on him, but it certainly raised an alarm about the fact that his husband didn't want to be with him. What did this mean? Was he really tired? Was he tired because he had been fucking Eddie all day and he didn't have it in him to fuck him now? Or did he just not find Blaine attractive any longer? Did he just not care about him at all?
He had told Cooper that he wanted to try, that he didn't want to fail, but he wasn't sure how to try when Jack blocked him like this. It felt like a slap.
"I see," Blaine said. He stood up to head to the bathroom.
"Blaine, come on, don't be like that…" Jack started, sighing like Blaine was the unreasonable one. "I just have a lot on my mind right now. I'm not in the mood."
Any other time, that would have been a perfectly acceptable explanation: they were both adults with demanding jobs and two children who depended on them. It was more than okay not to be in the mood. But it had been months, and on top of everything, Blaine had found those text messages. So it wasn't that Jack didn't want to have sex.
He just didn't want to have sex with his husband.
Was this really the beginning of the end? Was Blaine going to be a divorced father of two in a year? Was he going to have to fight the person he had once loved the most for custody, for half of what they owned?
God, how could this be his life? It wasn't supposed to be.
"It's fine, Jack," Blaine replied, not looking at him. Would Jack realize he knew if he let him look into his eyes? "Go to sleep."
He closed the bathroom door behind himself before Jack could say another word. He turned the shower on, but sat on the closed toilet lid for a moment instead. The nausea he had been feeling ever since he had found out about Eddie was back, stronger than ever.
A quiet ping from his pocket distracted him for a second, and he grabbed his phone to see that Kurt Hummel had replied to his email. It felt like such a relief, to have something else to focus on right now, when he felt like he was spiraling. He was offering to meet at the coffee shop where they had bumped into each other, and Blaine thought it was a great idea. The kids had their after-school activities and he had nothing but time to kill until he had to pick them up – having that much free time sounded like hell right now, because it only meant his mind would wander.
He agreed immediately and told him what time he could be there.
Then he jumped in the shower and tried to wash his husband's rejection off.
And it's not what you expected
The way the world you built loves to cut you down
The way your head gets twisted
And you sit up all night trying to figure it out
And they say; you've made your bed now
Don't you see you've brought it on yourself?
And they say that you should move on
But you can't even get your shoes on
And it's the voices in your head now
Saying; there's something wrong about
The way I feel
A broken link, a missing part, a punctured wheel
The next morning started with a bed as empty as the one Kurt had fallen asleep in the previous night. The coldness of the sheets on Ian's side told him either his husband had gotten up very, very early, without him noticing, or he hadn't actually come home at all.
A little bubble of panic filled Kurt's belly, growing bigger and bigger with every deep breath he forced himself to take to calm down.
He immediately reached for his phone. There were no text messages from Ian waiting for him, which didn't do anything to calm him down. He dialed his number and waited, sitting on the edge of the bed and forcing himself not to feel sick, even though he was failing.
"Hi," Ian's tired voice said on the other end after a couple of rings.
Kurt breathed out in relief, but only slightly. "Oh my god, are you alright?"
Ian seemed confused. "Yes? Why?"
Kurt's concern started to turn sour. "What do you mean, why? I got to bed and you're not home, I wake up and you're not home. Did you spend the night at the office?"
Ian groaned. "Yes, Kurt, I'm so sorry. I didn't even have a second to stop and let you know, and it totally slipped my mind. I've been on a conference call with our Australian branch all night and it's been hell."
"Oh, it's been hell?" Kurt repeated, sharply. "Really? Because I just had to consider the very real possibility that you might be dead in a ditch somewhere, Ian."
"There aren't many ditches in New York, you know…" Ian said, clearly trying to diffuse the tension and be funny, but he failed, because Kurt was fuming.
"Floating on the fucking East River then," Kurt retorted. He was not in the mood. This was not the best way to start his day, either.
"Kurt, please, calm down. Everything's fine, it's just a very stressful week," Ian said as placating as he could be. "You know that. I told you."
"Every week is stressful for you," Kurt said, with more spite than he meant, but he was angry and he couldn't help himself. "Ian, you can't just not come home and not let me know."
"For fuck's sake, Kurt," Ian muttered, and now he sounded annoyed. "You're not my mom. Can you stop acting like you are?"
Kurt could have breathed fire. "No, I'm not your mom. I'm your husband, and one would think that counted for something."
"I have to work," Ian retorted, like he was being unreasonable.
"Sure, every minute of every hour of every day until you die," Kurt replied. "You're a book editor, Ian, this is not a matter of life or death. You can actually take time off and come home to sleep, you know?"
"I love my job," Ian said scathingly. "I'm sorry you can't understand that, after how long we've been together."
"Well, I'm glad you love your job," Kurt said, and he was done with this conversation already. "But I should be someone you love, too. The company's not the only thing you have to work at, you know? You should also work at your marriage, so it doesn't fall apart."
He hung up before Ian could say another word. He didn't want to hear what he had to say, because he wasn't sure whether he would like it.
Kurt sat very still on the bed for a moment, his blue eyes trailing over the contour of the city right outside his window, before he reached for his phone again. He needed to make another phone call.
Santana picked up before it went to voicemail, sounding sleepy and furious, but that was just the way she sounded sometimes. "What?" She said in greeting.
"It's me," Kurt murmured, feeling deflated. "I know it's early and you probably have something to do, but I need someone to bitch with. And you're my go-to person for that."
"Lucky for you, I have absolutely nothing to do today," she replied. Even though she often sounded annoyed by her friends' useless whining, as she called it, she was always there for them, with the kind of tough love they needed. "And I have an insane craving for French toast."
"If you come to my place, I'll have a mountain of French toast waiting for you when you arrive," Kurt promised.
He must have sounded miserable, or maybe she really had a huge craving, because she said: "I'm on my way" and hung up on him.
Kurt got up and took a quick shower to try to shake off the rest of sleep and the bitterness of his waking up. Then, in yoga pants and a soft hoodie, because he wasn't in the mood to get dressed properly, he made his way into the kitchen and started preparing Santana's breakfast.
The whole apartment smelled of cinnamon and sugar by the time Santana arrived, and it felt like her belly made it through the door seconds before the rest of her did, she was so pregnant. Kurt was tempted to place a hand on the belly in greeting, filled with tenderness, but he was scared she would eviscerate him. As a mother and wife, she could be the sweetest creature on Earth, but outside of that very small circle, if you crossed a line, you were in risk of missing a limb.
Kurt loved how fierce she was.
"Move, move, move," she said, and before he could understand what was happening, she was waddling past him and down the hallway towards the bathroom.
Kurt was already waiting for her with two plates of French toast and two steaming mugs – coffee for him, green tea for her – when Santana came back.
"That damn kid is having fun playing with my bladder," she said as she sat down heavily. "I have peed five times today and I've only been awake for a little over an hour. And that's not counting the times I've had to get up in the middle of the night before I wet the bed like a four-year-old."
"You can always blame it on Daisy," Kurt said with a little grin as he gave her the honey. "Isn't she in the wetting-the-bed stage?"
"She hasn't wet the bed even once," Santana said proudly, and she scooped sliced strawberries onto her French toast like there was no tomorrow. "And let's not talk about pee or I may have to go again. So, what's up? Why did you call me so early with your panties in a twist?"
Another thing he loved about Santana: how she didn't beat around the bush.
"Ian didn't come home last night," Kurt said.
She arched an eyebrow at him. "And you called me and not the police because…?"
"Because he's fine," he said. "He just stayed at the office all night because he had a conference call with the Australian branch. But he didn't even call to let me know and when I woke up I thought something had happened to him."
"Well, that's sort of a jerky thing to do," Santana commented, frowning slightly. "I would never leave Brittany guessing where I am, I wouldn't want to worry her, and I know she would call me, too. I mean, that's what being married is. Your lives are supposed to be intertwined."
"Exactly, thank you!" Kurt exclaimed. This was a weird sort of vindication.
But Santana was still frowning. "Is everything okay between you two?"
Kurt shouldn't have hesitated. This was just a stupid disagreement, wasn't it? Ian was stressed, and Kurt had been alone at home a lot lately, and they were just out of sync. It was nothing a weekend together, a glass of wine and a bit of time to relax couldn't solve. But he hesitated.
"Kurt?" Santana said, and she put her fork down, which should have indicated exactly how worrying she found his silence.
"We're okay," he said, maybe a little too quickly after the pause, which only made her look more suspicious. "We are. It's just… I don't know, things have felt out of balance lately. He works all the time, and I work from home so it means I'm here by myself a lot, and it just… the silence makes you have stupid thoughts."
"What kind of stupid thoughts?" She asked.
"I don't know…" he said, reluctant to voice it, but her sharp eyes on him sort of commanded him to speak those words aloud for the very first time. "Fine, it's just… maybe I've been wondering, lately, whether I've made the right decision marrying someone who doesn't want the same things I do."
"What things are those?" She pushed.
Kurt looked into his coffee and not at her as he said: "Kids, mostly. And, you know, I think we came into this marriage with different expectations. I wanted the kind of marriage my dad had both times, with my mom and Carole, that sense of home and family whenever you are together, lives lived in unison. And I think it's possible that he doesn't think of marriage that same way. Sure, we live together, we sleep together, our routines sort of go around the same orbit, but… even though it might sound like a cliché, sometimes it's like we're two ships passing each other in the night."
"You're husbands, you can't be ships passing in the night, Kurt," Santana said seriously, but when Kurt simply shrugged, she considered him. "Why the hell did you marry him if you knew yours lives weren't compatible?"
"That's not what I said…" Kurt fumbled for the right words.
"Well, it sounds like that's what you said to me." Serious Santana was almost as scary as Angry Santana.
"It's not, I…" Kurt stopped, looked at Santana and deflated. They've known each other for a very long time. He couldn't hide things from her so easily. "I don't know, Santana. I don't want to think our lives are incompatible. We're married. We've been married for a long time now. It's not the best time to be questioning things."
"It seems to me you'll have to question them whether you want to or not, Kurt," she said, and he hated when she was so logical. "Is it really mostly the kid stuff?"
"I guess…" Kurt sighed. "You know, I showed him a picture of Camden Rachel sent me the other day, and he was so horrible about it…"
Santana snorted. "If you wanted him to agree to have children, why do you show him a picture of the Ugliest Baby Who Ever Lived?"
"Santana," Kurt groaned. "You're a mother. How can you say that?"
"I'm a mother but there are some incredibly ugly children in this world, Kurt. I'm not blind," she said, only making Kurt groan again. "Show him a picture of Daisy next time, she's like a mini Brittany. Anyway… you know I didn't want kids when Brit and I got married, either. But I changed my mind. Maybe he…"
"Oh, he won't change his mind," Kurt said. There was no doubt about that. "The only other living thing he's okay having in the apartment is Petra, and he doesn't even clean her litter box. He agreed to let me adopt her because I begged him and then gave him a blowjob to help him change his mind."
"So this isn't the kind of thing that can be solved with a blowjob?" Santana said, smirking.
"I'm afraid not," Kurt said.
"You were okay giving up being a dad when you agreed to marry him," Santana reminded him, like he actually needed the reminder. "I seem to recall you two had a very, very extensive conversation about it. You were a mess for a while, until you decided it was something you didn't need."
"Maybe I was wrong," Kurt said, and just saying that scared him so much that he immediately agreed: "Or maybe I'm having some sort of early mid-life crisis and I'll be fine in a week. Maybe I'm just too blocked with my next project and my idle mind is playing tricks on me. Maybe I'm just angry that he's at work all the time."
Santana looked like she didn't believe it, but she must have seen that he wasn't ready to deal with the actual consequences of what he'd been questioning, because she grabbed her fork and began to eat again. "Okay. But at some point you're going to have to actually think about this and make a decision, if it's something that's truly bothering you. Now, since you look like you're going to jump off the balcony and I'm not in a mood to see that, what else is new?"
They spent the rest of the morning chatting, interrupted only by Santana's regular bathroom breaks, and Kurt had calmed down by the time she went home, so much so that he was starting to believe he had exaggerated.
He was still mad with Ian for being such a lousy husband lately, but he told himself it wasn't the end of the world. They could figure it out. It didn't mean his marriage was ruined or doomed.
They could be happy again. They just… had to find the balance. That was all.
He smiled as he put Santana in a taxi, but deep down inside, although he wasn't going to admit it, he still felt like everything was wrong.
Blaine walked into the coffee shop a few minutes later than he should have. He had to stay at school late with one of his kids because her parents were late to pick her up. It was lucky that Jack had finished his surgery a little earlier than expected and he could take Lena and Theo to their after school activities, otherwise they would have all been late.
Kurt Hummel was already there, sitting at a table in the corner, laptop open in front of him, frowning at the screen like whatever was displayed on it was personally offending him. Blaine took a moment to observe him – he had been so preoccupied at work when he visited his class that Blaine hadn't even realized they had to be about the same age, and that Kurt was tall and handsome. He looked like a guy who should have been on television or movies, with how attractive he was, instead of hunched in front of a computer, writing stories for children.
But it somehow made him even more interesting, that he chose to do this when he could have done literally anything else.
Blaine moved towards the table and paused right behind it. He cleared his throat softly as not to startle Kurt, who seemed very focused. A pair of intense blue eyes glanced up at him, bright and wide and stunning.
"Hi," he said. "Sorry I kept you waiting."
"Hi!" Kurt smiled at him, and it was a disarming sight. "Oh please, don't apologize. I was so distracted I didn't even notice."
"Well, anyway…" Blaine reached into his bag and extracted the pain he had kept safe the entire day. "Here it is. I'm sure you're happy to have it back."
"So, so happy. Thanks for taking care of it for me," Kurt said kindly, accepting it. His eyes then returned to Blaine and he frowned again. "Wait, are you leaving already? I was hoping to buy you a cup of coffee to thank you."
"There's no need," Blaine said at once, politely.
"It's okay if you don't want to or if you need to get home, but I would really like to buy you some coffee," Kurt insisted. "I owe you."
Blaine didn't think that was exactly accurate, but he wasn't the kind of person to turn down a free cup of coffee, so he gave him a gentle smile and finally nodded. "Okay, then. I'd love some coffee."
He sat down and Kurt gathered his things to make room for him. "Sorry about the mess. I thought getting out of my apartment might help with my inspiration, so since I was meeting you here, I decided to try bringing my work with me." Before Blaine could say anything, he asked: "So, what can I get you? I'm ready for another mocha."
"Medium drip is fine, thank you," Blaine said, and watched as Kurt got up and went to the counter. As he waited in line, he stretched a little, like he needed to pop his muscles after being there for too long, and it shouldn't have been such an enticing view, the way Kurt's shoulders moved under his shirt, the broadness of his back on full display.
It had been a very, very long time since Blaine had gotten laid, it seemed.
He actually couldn't remember the last time, which was just sad. It had probably been their anniversary? Or maybe Jack's birthday? Had that been full on sex, or had he just given Jack a handjob in the shower before the kids woke up? It was blurry.
God, no wonder his marriage was falling apart. Sex had become something they only did in special occasions, and that was only when they could squeeze in enough time for it.
"Everything alright?"
While he had been thinking about whether or not it was justified that Jack had found someone who gave him what Blaine clearly didn't, Kurt had returned to the table and slipped the coffee cup towards him.
"Oh," Blaine said, and he hoped he didn't look as miserable as he actually felt. He tried to smile. "Yes, sorry. It was just a long day."
"Well, don't feel like I'm keeping you hostage if you really do want to just go home," Kurt said with a smile. Blaine wondered if he knew just how charming that smile was.
Blaine wasn't eager to get home. It wasn't the first time that happened this week, but he was still shocked by that fact. He used to be excited about getting home at the end of the day – when they first got married, when Lena or Theo were born, when everything had seemed simpler. Or, sometimes, he was just tired and wanted to go somewhere he could relax, be himself, be surrounded by the people he loved.
But right now he couldn't imagine a worse place to be.
"I have time," he replied instead. He could think of worse ways to spend his late afternoon than sitting at a coffee shop with a children book's author.
Kurt gave him yet another smile, and it had some sort of relief in it. Maybe he wasn't the only one who wasn't looking forward to getting home today.
"You know it's lucky you found the pen," Kurt said, long fingers wrapped around his coffee. "I hadn't even realized it was missing, but I would have been devastated if it had been truly lost."
"Is your dad still around?" Blaine asked, curiosity piqued. "If you don't mind me asking, of course."
"Oh, you're opening a can of worms, because he's probably one of my favorite things to talk about," Kurt said with a mischievous glint in his blue eyes. "And yes, he's still around. He's had a few health scares over the years, but he's still strong. Probably stronger than anyone I've ever met. Well… as long as he stays away from processed fats, that is."
Blaine chuckled. Kurt had a very sharp, witty way of talking that commanded his attention, like he needed to hang onto every word, because he would regret it if he missed even one. It was refreshing. "Sounds like you two are close."
"We are. We've always been. My mom died when I was very young and it was just the two of us for a long time, until he remarried when I was in high school," Kurt explained. "He still lives in Ohio, and I don't get to see him as often as I'd like, but we talk several times a week."
"Were you happy when he remarried? I know that can be hard for some kids," Blaine wanted to know.
"Oh, yes. It was kind of my idea to set them up. It was a crazy plot and it could have backfired spectacularly, but it was wonderful in the end. I got a perfect little family out of it," Kurt was beaming at him, and he was brighter than all the lights in the coffee shop. "What about you, Mr. Anderson?"
"Oh, god, please, call me Blaine," he said at once.
"Blaine it is," Kurt nodded. "So what about your family? Were you close growing up?"
"We were, I guess," Blaine said. "It was definitely a happy childhood, but my parents' marriage wasn't what you'd call exemplary. But I have a big brother I always looked up to, and he had my back, still does, actually. Although we're probably closer now than we were growing up, because there was a bit of an age difference between us."
Their wedding rings were glaringly obvious on their hands, and for a moment they both looked at each other's, like they were on the edge of asking about it. But then Blaine ducked his head – talking about his husband right now was probably the last thing he felt like doing – and Kurt cleared his throat and looked almost as reluctant as he did, so Blaine went for a change of subject.
"So what were you working on? New book?"
Kurt glanced at his laptop like it was personally offending him. "Trying to, at least. I've been blocked for a couple of weeks now." He sighed. "The thing about children's books is that there's no limit to the kind of things you can write about. You can have a penguin that becomes an astronaut or a kid who travels the world in a balloon, and it's all good. So sometimes you just sit there with an idea and you wonder if this is the one that's going to make you sound like an idiot to everyone, or the one that's going to put you on a bestseller's list."
Blaine laughed. "I don't think a healthy imagination can make you look like an idiot, actually."
Kurt shrugged. "I don't know. Maybe I'm just a little burned out."
Blaine studied him for a moment. He knew what it was like to love your job but still need a break from it. No matter how much you enjoyed what you did, you couldn't do it all the time, every day, every week, uninterrupted, because it was bound to lose its charm. Blaine looked forward to summer break as much as his students did. But there was something else here, something that seemed deeper, like Kurt was questioning his entire existence as he looked at his laptop.
And Blaine recognized himself in that look. He had been looking at himself in the mirror every morning, trying to figure out what was broken in the life that had seemed idyllic to him not even two weeks ago.
"Did you always know you wanted to be a writer?" He asked, because he was genuinely interested, and he had been a little disappointed that none of his kids thought to ask him that when they were interviewing him.
"Actually, no," Kurt said with an uncomfortable chuckle, and after a couple of seconds of hesitation, he said: "It was my husband who got me into it."
"How come?" Blaine tilted his head as he regarded him.
"Well, I thought he was just really bad at flirting when we first met, but it turns out he really thought the doodle I was making on a napkin at a bar was good enough that I should become an illustrator," Kurt explained. He drank some coffee before he continued. "He's an editor, and he's the one who got me into publishing. After I illustrated a few books for other authors, I tried my hand at writing my own, and that was it."
"What did you want to do, originally?" Blaine asked, and then paused, when he realized what this sounded like. "God, I'm sorry. Am I acting too much like an interviewer? I promise it's not my intention, I just find this really interesting."
Kurt laughed, a sound so clear and melodious that Blaine was enchanted by it. "Don't apologize. It's fine. I just don't find myself that interesting, to be honest…"
"Mr. Hummel, you have to be…"
"Hey, hey, hey," Kurt interrupted, eyebrow arched at him in a way that looked playful. "Now, if I call you Blaine, you have to call me Kurt. Deal?"
Blaine couldn't stop smiling. It felt weird. "Deal. What I was saying, Kurt, is that you have to be one of the most interesting people I've met in a while. So really, don't sell yourself short."
"I'll try not to," Kurt said, catching his own smile by biting his lower lip, like he wanted to keep it in check.
Blaine was rusty – being married for as long as he had been and being a father did that to you – but this felt a lot like flirting.
But, of course, it couldn't be. They were both married. This was just…
He wasn't sure what it was.
"Anyway, to answer your question," Kurt said after a pause that felt filled with a kind of tension either of them could explain, "I wanted to be on Broadway when I was younger. Or maybe work in fashion. I was actually trying my luck at both of those things when Ian and I met and he offered to sign me as one of their illustrators. Nothing was working out, and I thought it was worth a shot."
"Never looked back?" Blaine wondered.
The slightly conflicted look on Kurt's face said it was a loaded question, even if Blaine hadn't meant it as one. "Well, can't say I don't look back every now and then…"
He redirected the conversation asking Blaine about his path to becoming a teacher, about what had made him fall in love with it, about his favorite anecdotes with some of the kids. Before they knew it, the sky had darkened outside and their coffees had gone cold mostly untouched. Still, Blaine didn't want to go home, despite the fact that his phone had started buzzing in his pocket like ten minutes ago. It was probably Jack, wondering if he was going to make it home in time for dinner. And he should, he knew he had to. But for the first time in a long time, he felt perfectly content just sitting here, laughing and talking to someone.
Kurt didn't look like he was in a hurry to leave, either.
But Blaine knew he couldn't just sit here until all his problems disappeared. He could move into this coffee shop and never leave, but that wouldn't change the fact that his husband was cheating on him, or that he still needed to get home to take care of his children.
It felt like a bubble was bursting.
With a sigh, Blaine took his phone out of his pocket and saw a couple of messages from Jack – one about dinner, one about Lena asking about him. The second one was the one that actually got him to look at Kurt, apologetically.
"I'm afraid I have to get going," he said. "My daughter's used to finding me home after school, so she's getting restless."
"Well, I don't want to keep you from her, of course," Kurt said gently. "Thanks again for bringing me my pen, Blaine. It was so kind of you."
"It's nothing," Blaine assured him, as he stood up. "Thank you for the coffee."
He had just started walking away from the table when Kurt stopped him.
"Blaine, wait," he said, and reached to grab his hand as if he was afraid Blaine would rush away. It was like a jolt to his system, when Kurt's finger closed around his for just a second, fingertips brushing his pulse, which had somehow picked up. As if his heartbeat startled him, Kurt let go at once. "Sorry. I just… would you like to meet for coffee again some other time? It turns out that I find you very interesting, as well."
Was that a blush Blaine felt rising on his cheeks? If Kurt noticed, he didn't mention it, or maybe he was too busy with his own blush, so evident on his pale skin.
And there was something inside Blaine that told him he had to say no: two married men meeting for coffee? But just because there was a second of flirting in a conversation, it didn't mean they intended to do something they weren't supposed to, right? Blaine could use a friend – in the years since he had gotten married, he had focused so much on his husband and children that his friendships had eventually dissolved to acquaintances. Cooper was the closest thing to a best friend in his life right now, and he was his brother. Blaine needed more.
Maybe it was time to start accepting that he needed more, in every area of his life.
Before he could talk himself out of it, he took his phone out of his pocket again, this time to hand it to Kurt. "Would you like to give me your number?"
Kurt smiled. "Sure." He typed his number in, and then gave it back to him. "I… it was really nice to see you, Blaine."
"You too," Blaine said, and walked out of the coffee shop, feeling like something warm was pooling inside of him, something tingly.
It reminded him of that sensation he always got after a first date, something that felt that had happened to an entirely different person, a million years ago.
And it shouldn't have felt like that, he knew. He was married. The only person he was supposed to feel that way with was his husband. But maybe the problem was that his whole world had started revolving around Jack, until everything else melted away and he lost himself. If he hadn't lost himself, would have Jack had the need to find someone else?
It was probably a question he would never be able to answer.
Blaine wanted to feel alive. He wanted to feel like what he wanted, what he was, mattered. He wanted to stop the bitterness that had begun to spread through him like a cancer.
And sitting here with Kurt for a little while had managed to give him that, at least briefly.
Was it so wrong to want more of it?
It doesn't matter what you say now
It's like some vision in the stars
That seems so real
The way I feel, the way I feel, the way I feel
And it's there already – that magnetic pull, that electricity between them. What do you think is going to happen next?
See you on Wednesday for another chapter!
L.-