Chapter 9

Songs used for this chapter:
Toby Lightman | Everyday

It's a beautiful day.  The sun is bright and inviting; there are few clouds in the sky, if any.  Blaine's stroll to the Lima Bean is noticeably relaxed and physically painless for the first time in a long time; he loves when his parents go away on vacation.  He is content with how his summer seems to be playing out.  He's actually okay.

The conversation with Santana opened his eyes a bit; he still believes in himself regardless of what's happened to him at home.  Her persistence has helped him, whether he'd like to realize it or not, and he knows that Kurt's friendship – or whatever – will be good for him too, because Santana said so.  He's putting so much trust into strangers lately, and for the first time since he was fourteen, it doesn't scare him.  He's not sure what's going to happen next, but that's the best part of being seventeen.  Maybe he finally doesn't mind because Santana and Kurt are telling him he doesn't have to worry about it yet.    

He sort of doesn't mind Lima with Kurt around, even if the mere opportunity to open up and be honest with someone else contradicts every wall he's built up since last year.  He gets excited to see him, to talk with him.  He loves watching Kurt in his element at the Lima Bean.  He's full of passion, in spite of whatever he is doing.  This always makes Blaine smile.

He pushes the door open eagerly and the heavenly scent of quality coffee beans grinding hits him as it does every morning he's there.  He inhales calmly and searches for Kurt.  The man is helping a customer decide between two signature blended coffee drinks, with the ease and professionalism of any extraordinary specimen.  Blaine watches with heart eyes and lust swirling through his veins.  Blaine Anderson is finally at ease and comfortable with his surroundings.  Kurt looks up at the sound of the bells, and meets Blaine's hazel honey eyes for only a second, twitches his lips as a greeting, then turns his full attention back to the woman still standing in front of him.

xK&Bx

Kurt glances at the door with the familiar sound of the bells.  His instinct is to smile warmly at the boy, but he refrains.  He is terrified that he looks forward to another's arrival, that he's allowed himself to fall this deeply already, so quickly.  They've only known each other for three months, give or take a day.  Kurt continues focusing on the non-important questions of his customer, and turns on the charm the best he can; this is an attempt to forget Blaine's eyes melting into every curve of his body.  The woman turns with her large bag of a variety of ground coffee, and a decided-upon iced espresso for in the moment.  Now is the appropriate time to focus his attention to Blaine's insistence to surprise him via video message last night. 

He plates the freshest raspberry and cheese Danish, and waits patiently as the espresso machine does its magic for the sake of the White Mocha, light cream.  He pours the concoction into the to-stay coffee mug and proceeds to design a work of art by way of foam.  He draws an intricate design in the froth on the top and glides into the seat that's always been unmentioned but reserved for Kurt, across from Blaine's spot.  He slides the plate and cup directly in front of the boy and stares at the Danish.  Kurt usually knows his way to people's hearts through their stomachs.  He just wants to let the boy down easy, as hard as it'll be for Kurt as well.

“Good Morning.”  Blaine is searching for contact, his eyeballs shifting to catch Kurt's.

Kurt examines his cuticles.

“Morning.”  Kurt gets up and pours himself a Medium Drip, leaves it black, and returns.  He sinks into the chair without any trace of his usually perfect posture.  This is when Blaine can certainly confirm there is something up.

“What's wrong?”  Blaine takes note of the foam design and smiles into it as he steals a cautionary sip. 

“I just… nothing.”  Fuck, I wish he were older.  He meets his eyes for half of a second and draws away, burying his face into his own coffee. 

“Nothing.”  Blaine repeats, but especially aware that this is a lie.

“Nothing.”

Blaine shrugs, uninterested in furthering this conversation if it's only going to be a collection of two-syllable words that mean, well, nothing.

“How are you?”

“Really?  How am I?  That's all you've got?”  Blaine's words escape angrier than he intended, but he goes with it because it can't hurt to continue with the bad boy vibe, although this is the furthest from who Blaine is.  Was.

Kurt takes a deep breath, and exhales with a shake in his chest.  His whimper is low and in his throat, but still there nonetheless.  “Blaine.” 

The exchange is graceless; Kurt's definitely not acting like himself, and Blaine notices.  His head shoots up; he has a foam mustache.  Kurt smiles and wipes at his upper lip with his thumb and wipes it on a napkin, but eye contact is the furthest from the truth.  It eerily feels like the closing and sad scene in a movie before one main character disappears forever.

“I thought we got through the awkward exchanges already, Kurt.  Why is it always two steps forward, three steps back with you?  I fucking can't.”

Blaine turns his head away and focuses on the cars out the window as he blushes a deep blood red, the entirety of his body except for his cheeks drained dead, feeling as rejected as a punch in the gut by his own gay-bashing father.  He lets out a sigh that signifies his depression and hatred toward the life he's been handed.

“Blaine, I want to be your friend.  I want to help you with whatever's going on in your life right now.”  Kurt straightens in his seat, but not back to normal.  “The past few weeks that I've gotten to know you a little bit… it just makes me want to know you more, but in order for that to be, you need to get over me… you need to get over me romantically.  I don't want you… that way, at all.  I can't.”  Fucking liar.

“Because I'm seventeen.”

Kurt nods.

“Among other unattractive qualities.”

Kurt joggles his head and tilts forward to try to catch Blaine's line of sight.  “Why do you think that nobody wants to know you?”

“Because nobody wants to know me, maybe?”  Blaine's completely aware that he sounds like a whiny teenager, so he needs to reel it in.  He doesn't have anyone who will listen, so he uncontrollably loads it all on Kurt.  He just wishes the baggage was a little more well-received on Kurt's part.

Kurt stares at him, expectant of his continuation.  “I just told you-”

Blaine interrupts.  “You know my parents left for an all-inclusive, top-notch Mediterranean cruise yesterday?  They're in Europe until further notice, gallivanting the Spanish countryside or whatever, making pasta in Italy and some shit, bathing off the coast of the Isle of Capri.  They invited my brother and they invited my brother's girlfriend.  You know who's elected to housesit… alone for the unforeseeable future?  And really, it doesn't matter, not too much because I wouldn't have wanted to go anyway.  It just would have been nice to be wanted.  No one ever wants me, Kurt.  I don't know why I'm getting so upset of your rejection, too.  Just ignore me.”  There's a beat.  “Forget I said any of that shit.  I shouldn't be so open with you.” 

“I want you to be open with me, B.”  Kurt smiles.  “But you wouldn't have gone on vacation with them, anyway, right?”

“It's the principle.” 

Kurt nods in understanding.  Kurt always understands.  “What are you going to do about it?  Raise havoc?  Go all Braveheart on their asses?  I'm not condoning that…”

“I'm gonna keep on.  I'm gonna get outta here alive.  You know?”

“Oh God, I know more than you think.  But, B, you're living now, too, you know.  And you have me?  I officially apply to be your friend.”  Kurt fingers nervously through his hair and looks up at Blaine, a slight smile on his face, attempting for the look of encouragement.  “I can't stop your parents from being shitty fucking scum of the earth, but I can make you forget about them for awhile?”

“I don't want to be your friend.”  There's a pause.  “Kurt.”

Kurt sits back in his chair.  “Of course not, not big scary dangerous Blaine, he can do everything on his own.”  He smirks, clearly not understanding what Blaine meant and Blaine frowns.  “But can it hurt to have some support in this evil world?  Santana seems to have ‘broken ground with my boy,' you know, but I'm not seeing the walls crumble, and frankly… you're nice when they do.”  Kurt rises and takes the boy's face between his hands, looks square in his eyes and kisses his cheek.  His lips linger, as if it's a brutal goodbye for anyone to see; that is what it is, isn't it?

“I have to go be a boss to these guys.”  He thumbs over his shoulder to the two young college students watching them intently.  “Be good.”

He escapes to the back room and cries.

xK&Bx

Blaine groans; yanking the door open without a goodbye, unaware and not caring at all that his textbooks were left on his table, he trudges home five and a half hours too early.  He's not even sure why he went to the Lima Bean today; his parents have been out of town for only a day, he's got the house to himself for a remaining week and a half.  He gets home in record time and rips his headphones out of his ears, melting away into his mood. 

Blaine thinks.  It's always a problem when he lets his mind wander.

Fuck it.  It's not worth getting worked up over for yet another person not wanting me the way I want him.  That little fucking fairy bitch is probably inexperienced as hell, and wouldn't even be a good lay.  Fuck him, if he doesn't want me.  I thought fucking teenagers would totally be his thing. 

Kurt's a fucking stubborn teasing bitch.  He gets this stupid idea that a relationship between us would never work and he sticks to it.  Friends?  He wants to be friends with me?  That's fucking bullshit.  Has he seen himself?  Who wants to be friends with him?  And I've seen the way he looks at me.  He wants me so bad.

You want to lead me on?  Fine.  But two can play at this game.  I'm gonna make you beg for me, like a little slut.  You'll see just how much you miss me when I'm not fucking there to stare at anymore.  

But God, will I miss that little bitch!  He's seriously sex on a stick and I just don't know if I'm strong enough to not see him for as long as it takes.  Whatever, I need lube.  Fuck, and a new coffee shop.  Fuck!

Blaine knows he's a fuck up.  He knows that he has never been seen as the perfect anything, or friend, or as though he is worth the effort.  He knows all of that about himself.  He just wishes Kurt wouldn't agree with him all the damn time.  He most obviously does if he doesn't even want to try. 

Blaine's depression is taking a whirlwind, wrecking and flailing every aspect of his life.  He doesn't want to interact with anyone ever again, and he'd rather just go through this hell by himself.  He doesn't need anyone, not a soul.  It's even worse when he's as confused as he is now.  He's confused why Kurt would ever lead him on like that.  For weeks, it had been stolen glances, and kisses – on both the mouth and the cheek, lingering like it belonged – and free coffees, and a subtle almost-unnoticed “Reserved” sign on the windowsill next to his table.  The flirting, maybe not so much in person but definitely through text message, the guaranteed meal by the time of his arrival every single morning.  All of this just hasn't felt like just friends to Blaine. 

Blaine, without being conscience of where his feet lead him, is now sitting at the rough velvet bench.  He slams down on the hard keys, producing a harsh unpracticed sound, like a toddler playing with his Fisher-Price keyboard.  There is a noise trapped in Blaine's throat; the beginning of a sob.  He allows himself to break down completely, as he plays.

Every day is a struggle between what I wanna say
And what I should keep to myself
And the words that manage to leave my lips
Don't hurt me, but they hurt everyone else.

And I find myself in need of a pause
I'm not sure why, but I think that it's because
Of this desire to be what others want me to be
Which is nothing close to me

He stops trying, for these three minutes where he can truly be himself.  His voice cracks through the song; the ivory and the black are left soaked with saline.  As he wipes at his eyes, the moisture does not absorb and it floods into small abstract puddles and drops of rejection.  He rips his phone out of his pocket and starts to type.

Blaine:  I get it, pretty boy.  I'll get over it.  See you around.

Blaine makes it a point to ensure that Kurt misses the hell out of him, but doesn't forget he ever existed.  There's a thin line and this game can either work perfectly in his favor or plummet to hell.

xK&Bx

Blaine's text breaks his heart, but he knows he has to stay strong and stand his ground in an effort to get the boy off his back, for the sake of Kurt not getting in trouble over this.  Of course, he doesn't want him to disappear entirely, so he feels like he's treading in very deep water, seconds from drowning or a shark clenching down on his leg.  He doesn't want Blaine to feel worthless, and he can only imagine the hateful thoughts the poor boy is thinking right about now – rejection, hate toward himself and Kurt, forced independence when all he needs is a team of supporters.  He's allowed himself to lead him on toward something that they both obviously want so much, but could never happen.  Kurt feels terrible that he's done this, and he realizes that it may be doing more bad than good to try to tone it down now.  Of all the times Kurt's gotten his heart broken in the past, this has to be the worst because he's doing it to himself. 

Kurt knows that he could wish away his entire life in a way that will never make sense.  He could wish, until he's blue in the face, that Blaine has been lying this whole time, and he's actually twenty-four or so, only kidding about his illegal age for the drama's sake.  He could hope to whatever spirit above that will listen that this was all just a misunderstanding and Blaine is not as fucked up as he seems, and they'd be really good for each other.  They'd be so good together.  Kurt could beg and plead with every damn judge in this place, it will never change Blaine's age.  It'll never change Kurt's.  It will never change the position they are stuck in. 

Kurt finds himself daydreaming of his New York days, when everything was daisies and rainbows and a natural routine, taking part in creative activities he desired more than breathing or brushing his teeth.  He allows his mind to drift into what it would be like to live there again, in present time, bringing along the knowledge he's gained since the first time he stepped foot in the Bushwick loft he shared with Rachel and later, Santana and Rachel.  First things first, he'd indulge his tastes and find a somewhat affordable hidden gem on the Upper West Side, on a floor too high to utilize stairs.  He'd splurge on a doorman – on luxury – because he's almost thirty and let's face it, there's only so much you should sacrifice when your twenties are almost behind you.  He sees another man strolling down their neighborhood street, right with him, hand in hand.  In love.  He's shorter, with glistening happy eyes and a jaw line to kill with the perfect amount of stubble.  His curls are less than gelled and he has grown up.  It's Blaine with him forever.

Kurt is definitely at a major fork in his path of life.  He can go toward the left and continue to push away this seventeen-year-old only because he's seventeen, or he could go right and have the chance to experience a love he's been waiting forever to come find him.  He's not sure what to think, so he doesn't for a while, until he can't help but see his future.

It's like he's seeing the future. He's seeing his future with Blaine.

Wait, what?  Fuck.  This needs to stop.  It was over before it started.  Stop fucking fantasizing.  Not only is this kid seventeen years old, but he's messed up and will never get out of the system.  This guy is a jailbird and dangerous and he'll hurt me worse than I could ever imagine. Go find someone who's ready to settle, go pick on someone my own age.  It's not fair to the kid, and it's not fair to me.  Push the feelings aside and let him go.    

xK&Bx

Blaine's worked out his master plan.  He will demolish any routine he's formed thus far, and if he wants to go to the coffee shop at all, it will only be to get a coffee.  Blaine decides he definitely won't go to the coffee shop tomorrow.  He might not go for the rest of the week, especially since his parents are out of town for a while, and he can do his work at home.  Except that you fled the scene without taking your stupid books, asshole.  So, Blaine can work on his music freely for once, without his parents barging in and ordering him to stop, saying that expression through the arts is only for faggots unless you're famous.  And even then…

In theory, these days on end without seeing Kurt's face, or staring back into his incredible eyes, seems like a fantastic plan; it's a great way to make sure Kurt knows what he could have but keeps rejecting.  But Blaine is human, and he's already missing Kurt.  If all else fails, he knows he'll need to find a quick fuck to get over this man.  Eventually.  Maybe.  He's scared of how he feels without Kurt.

Blaine's lying in bed, wide awake at two AM, and trying to figure out the ways he's going to distract himself for as long as it takes.  This week is pretty easy, but what about when his parents come home?  He wants to stay away from them as much as possible, as usual, given the instability of his father, generally speaking.  He'll have to research other places he can spend his time within a four-mile radius.  That can wait until the morning; he has ten days to figure it out. 

xK&Bx

Five in the morning comes mighty quickly in Kurt's life.  As per usual since Blaine slammed into his heart, Kurt's hardly gotten any sleep whatsoever, staying awake for hours into the night debating back and forth between his pros and cons list, both written and in his head.  He's excited to open up downstairs and see firsthand Blaine's reaction to this new step in their relationship.  Friendship. 

He's eager to see Blaine's reactions to simple things.  He wants to test the waters and see if they could continue to talk like they used to, or if Blaine is not interested in that if they're only going to be friends.  There are so many questions, and Kurt figures he'll just take the boy's lead – like he did so long ago when they were silently challenging each other to speak the first word. 

The man sleepily goes through the motions of opening the shop and it is suddenly 8:38.

Kurt:  So your last text was kinda cryptic.  How close are you??

Kurt automatically hangs his head.  He so could have worded that better.  All this tension is taking him on the worst roller-coaster ride of his life.  It's one of those old rickety wooden coasters that juggle your brain against the sides of the car, leaving you with a migraine for the rest of your time at Cedar Point. 

He stares at his phone.  8:42.  No answer.  8:47.  No answer.  Kurt warms a croissant and pours a medium drip.  He mixes, tastes, mixes.  He sets it on the Carrie Table.  He waits.  9:03.  He waits.  9:05.  There are no bells.  9:09.  Blaine is late. 9:15.  Where is he?  9:34.  Well, he said his parents are out of town so at least I know he's probably not dead by way of father-fist.  He removes the carbs and coffee and trashes them.  9:36.  Kurt excuses himself and goes upstairs.  9:39.  Kurt slams the door to his apartment and cries, sliding down the door until he's sprawled out and sobbing on the floor in the foyer.

xK&Bx

Blaine stares at his phone; he hopes he's doing the right thing by ignoring Kurt for a few days.  Sure, it's fucking hard, but someone needs to take charge in this relationship.  Friendship. 

No!  Nevermind.  I don't want to be his fucking friend.  There's nothing he can do for me that I can't already do for myself.  Fuck him.  He can go fuck himself on a four-foot pole. 

Blaine's super power is distancing and only fending for himself; he can shut down in the middle of any conversation or thought, and his walls can lock in over him as if he was never there.  He detaches from the world for the next few days, not only from Kurt and the world he lives in within the Lima Bean, but every single idiot who's stupid enough to be in his life.  He stays away from the coffee shop.  Cooper found his number somehow and hasn't been shy to use it.   Even his mom calls to check up on him, on the landline of course.  Santana wastes hours of her day sitting in his driveway.  Her missed call log is borderline harassment, which he finds ironic being that she's his parole officer of all things, and Kurt's texts are nearing the triple digits. 

Kurt:  Where are you?  Are you okay?
Kurt:  Blaine… please tell me you haven't converted to Starbucks.
Kurt:  B!
Kurt:  Oh my God.  You're ignoring me?  Fuck it.
Kurt: This is it.  I want to help you but you're proving to be really fucking stubborn.
Kurt:  I know your parents aren't around, please let me know you're good?
Kurt:  Fuck you.
Kurt:  Seriously, just tell me you're okay. I'm gonna tell Santana, she'll find you.
Kurt:  I'll take the hint.  See you around.
Kurt:  Look.  I'm around if you ever need me.  You know where to find me.

xK&Bx

Kurt puts his phone down on the Carrie Table and bangs his head against it three painful times.  Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.

“Still not answering?”

Kurt gives Santana his best bitch face.  “Honestly, I don't know why he can't see that it could never work.  I told him I still want to be friends with him, but he's apparently not having it.  I think I was too hard on him.  He's fragile.” 

Santana shrugs; he knows only half of her heart is in this conversation.  It's the same one they've had, over delicious coffee, every day since Blaine vanished. 

“You need to get laid.”

Ignoring any smug comments from his dear friend about sex, he responds as though it was never said.  “But also… what if he's actually hurt?  What if he's not answering me because he physically can't?”

Santana sighs and looks at him.

“He's fine.  I saw him through a window in his house this morning, but he refuses to answer the door.  If it's all meant to be… as creepy as it is, then it'll be, Hummel.”

“Oh don't get so stupid and philosophical on me.  We both know you don't believe in any of that bullshit.” 

It was true, though, and Kurt believes that now.  There's no use putting in the effort in if Blaine's already moved on.  Which, Kurt unfortunately realizes, is something he demanded of Blaine in the first place.  He wanted this.  He's so damn conflicted; he hates not knowing the end of his story. 

The end is inevitable.  He hates taking the chance of pushing Blaine away if, despite all the drama, they were supposed to meet in the first place.  But he doesn't know that for sure.  He can't confirm whether or not their meeting was sheer coincidence to save Santana's ass at the courthouse, or if it was for something a bit more special than Santana's ass.  Maybe it was for the sake of his ass.  His heart.  A start of a life together.

Surviving McKinley wasn't his end, nor was NYADA or Vogue.Com. Past boyfriends were certainly not the end. Inheriting a career in coffee isn't the end.  What if Blaine is Kurt's end?  What if Blaine is the shiny, new prize that Kurt receives after going through the bullying and the broke stage in New York and the break ups and the depression and all the damn loss?  Would I be able to live with myself if I throw that all away over a few months until his eighteenth birthday? 

This is Kurt's last falter back and forth into working himself in and out of lust.  It's not just the boy's age that is the problem.  There are underlying issues that fall beneath the surface so deep that it's unfixable.  Kurt cannot go through the process of fixing a person only to be left alone.  It's not worth the effort, and his jaded heart tells him no, no, no, no, no, no, no.

But now, at Santana's sharp tongue, even though they could never be together, he is proud of Blaine for giving up on them for the sake of both of their sanities.  He is, however, also remotely sad that Blaine did give up on him that easily, without so much as a fight.  He lets that part go quickly; it's all for the best.  It's true with every other relationship in his life.  People always leave, but probably because Kurt always pushes them away.

xK&Bx

Kurt has officially let it all go.  It's now been a full week with not a word from Blaine.  Kurt is finished. 

He pushes his chair out from under him and goes to the back room to complete some payroll paperwork.  Although he is somewhat distracted, Kurt knows from experience that every day will get better; it will get easier until Blaine is nothing but a figment of his lonely imagination. 

He'll allow Blaine to do his thing, away from him, and he'll continue to perform business as usual at the Lima Bean, and he doesn't let Santana tell him where Blaine lives; having that information would prove especially difficult to stay away.  He has to stay away, no questions asked.  He doesn't want to know if Santana's heard from him.  If Blaine doesn't even want to be friends, then they don't have to be.  Kurt is done.  Besides, it wouldn't have benefited Kurt in any way, only Blaine and Santana.  Kurt needs to learn to be a little more selfish.  He needs to seek out friendships and relationships and partners that will be good for him, certainly not the other way around.  Kurt tries his hardest to shrug it off.  Then, like nothing…

Blaine:  Miss me?
Kurt: What the hell?  I wrote you off four days ago, Blaine.  Obviously come to me if you need anything, but I'm pretty fucking pissed at you.
Kurt:  So now I'm done.  With you.
Kurt:  If you want, try to come around when you're ready to be a decent human who realizes that people fucking care about you and your well-being. 
Kurt:  Until then, fuck you.
Blaine:  Gladly, pretty boy.

This was the last Kurt Hummel heard from Blaine Anderson for an entire month.