Day 062: Saturday 17th November, 2012
Torch Songs (Texas)

"What about Boys Don't Cry?"

"That title's clearly lying. You know I'll be sobbing by the end if that's what it's called."

"You cry at everything; I'm used to it by now."



"Okay, here goes," Kurt said, taking a deep breath and steeling himself. "I know you probably have a lot of questions and this is going against literally everything we said, but Blaine... I'm in love with you, and I think... I think you love me back. I don't know what this means for us, and this is probably the last thing—"

"Who are you talking to?"

As Blaine opened the bathroom door and poked his head inside, Kurt almost jumped out of his skin. "No one," he said quickly, turning back to the mirror and making a show of checking his hair.

"You look fine, come on," Blaine urged him, and grabbed his hand to pull him from the bathroom.

"Just 'fine?'" Kurt asked breathlessly, tugging on Blaine's hand. 'Fine' definitely wasn't enough to describe his outfit: a tightly fitted, seagrass green shirt with his white double-breasted jacket, and mulberry purple jeans that hugged his ass and thighs. As Blaine stopped, Kurt turned in a slow circle on his toes, looking at Blaine over his shoulder. "I think you can do much better than 'fine,' mister."

"Kurt, sweetheart," Blaine began, cupping his jaw, "you look about a hundred thousand times better than 'fine,' but if I spend too much longer staring at your ass in those jeans, we're not going to make it to the gig."

And there it was again, that affectionate little nickname Blaine had given him that twisted up Kurt's stomach in a pleasant coil of rushing love. He leaned down for a fleeting kiss, taking what no longer felt stolen, simply good and easy and right.

"Anyway, you haven't said anything about my outfit," Blaine chided him in a tone of mock-seriousness, and performed his own spin on the spot. "Well?"

Kurt took him in in his pale grey swallow-print shirt, maroon shawl collar cardigan and cuffed dark wash jeans. Buttoned just so, the cardigan accented the breadth of his shoulders and the nip of his waist perfectly. "You look like..." he trailed off. "High school you. You look really good."

"Having jailbait dreams?" Blaine drawled.

Kurt rolled his eyes. "Come on, Mister Punctual. Wouldn't wanna be late, now would we?" With that reminder, he spun on his heel, grabbed his phone and keys, and swept out of the R.V. with an undeniable spring in his step.

Nothing was going to bring Kurt down today, not even the fact that they were parked at a Walmart. He barely gave the sign a second glance as Blaine caught him up and they strolled past, making their way into downtown Austin.

"What's got you in such a good mood?" Blaine asked, nudging his shoulder while they walked.

"I'll tell you later," Kurt replied airily.

A little of the day's heat still lingered, taking the edge off the cool breeze coming up behind them; for once, Kurt felt as if he was being carried comfortably along rather than riding the back of a hurricane and holding on for dear life. He felt buoyant, jubilant, excited. His chest clenched every single time he pictured that softness around Blaine's honeyed eyes, the one that spoke of affection and desire and, yes, love. Kurt had known that look as soon as he saw it, more transparent than plate glass and plain as day.

Blaine was in love with him, and he loved Blaine back, and now... Now it was finally time to come clean.

He'd planned it all down to the last painstaking detail. The colors he would wear—green for luck, white for renewal, and purple for transformation—what he would say, how he would do it. He'd even texted April to change his song from All These Things That I've Done to one that he felt better summed up his feelings. It was to be a call, and knowing that his solo performance was going to come before Blaine's, he could only hope that Blaine would respond in kind.

When they arrived, they found the gay bar a flat one-story building painted sky blue and off-white with a looping neon sign proclaiming Cheer Up Charlie's. The band was already set up under the giant, suspended marquee in the courtyard.

"Disturbing new development," Kurt said in a low voice, nudging Blaine's side and gesturing toward where Liam and Daniel were huddled together behind the stage, heads too close and smiles too wide as they talked. Liam was wearing a tie-dye tee bearing the slogan, Keep Austin Weird. Kurt hoped it was an ironic choice.

"Didn't April say they were barely speaking the last time we were all together?" Blaine asked, sounding utterly confounded, and Kurt nodded.

"Yep. Something about Green Day, I think? Either way—"

"Guys, you're here!"

Kurt whipped around to be greeted with a hug from April and a characteristically shy half-wave from Marcie before Blaine lifted her off her feet and spun her in a tight circle. She was blushing when he set her down, and fiddled with a few strands of hair that had fallen out of her sleek up-do.

"What's with Liam and Dan?" Kurt asked without preamble, and April rolled her eyes.

"Really? That's the first thing you ask about," she said flatly. "What about, 'Hi, best friend! It's been too long, and I feel awful about not calling you for longer than five minutes since Michigan, and how's your throat now, and oh my god, that outfit looks incredible on you!'"

"Okay, I get your point. I'm sorry," Kurt said, raising his hands in submission. "I do feel awful, and that outfit does look incredible. How is your throat?"

"That's better," April said, crossing her arms over her chest. "I'm still getting over it, so no singing for me for a few more days. And by the way, the Liam and Dan thing is your fault."

"What? My fault?" Kurt asked.

"She told them about you and Blaine," Marcie interjected.

"What, and they thought it was a good idea?" Blaine asked, chuckling. His eyes danced with humor as he glanced at Kurt, slowly looking him up and down. At Marcie's nod, he added, "Well... It does get lonely on the road..."

"Yeah, okay, loneliness was a factor in you two finally getting it on," April scoffed.

"April," Kurt warned.

"If that's your story, stick to it. I don't care," she said airily. Kurt's jaw set and he took her by the elbow, leaving Marcie and Blaine exchanging a glance while he steered her toward the fence that bordered the courtyard.

"I need you to stop," he said, and April just rolled her eyes again.

"Kurt, come on. I know you, and I know Blaine, and this thing you have going on? Anyone with eyes can see that it's more than just—"

"I'm in love with him," Kurt interrupted, and her eyes went wide. "What, like you're surprised?"

"No, I just never thought I'd get you to admit it," she breathed, and grabbed his hand. "Kurt, this is so exciting! Does he... I mean, of course he feels the same way, the way he looks at—oh my god, have you told him yet?"

"I'm planning on doing it tonight," Kurt said, gaze sliding to Blaine and Marcie as they wove their way through the crowd toward the bar. "So just... Take it easy, okay?"

"Oh my god, of course," she said, nodding her head so quickly it was almost comical. "Are you nervous?"

"Hummels don't get nervous."

April leveled him with a single look. "Kurt, are you nervous?"

Kurt swallowed, and gave her a tremulous smile. "Terrified."

"Piece of advice," April began, "do not break eye contact with him when you're singing that song. After that, you probably won't even need to tell him."

"You're really sure he feels the same way," Kurt stated. He felt like a teenager all over again, but couldn't help needing the extra reassurance.

"You forget that I know what song he picked," April reminded him with a wink, and linked arms with him to lead him toward the stage. "Now. Let's rock the shit outta this place, and get you your man while we're at it. You game?"

"Bring it on."

Five minutes later, all members of The One With The Band were assembled: Hugh behind his drum kit; Drake on bass, and Daniel and Liam furnished with guitars off to his right; Kurt shared the two backup microphones with April and Marcie to the left, and Blaine took center to open. The main lights dropped, the only remaining illumination provided by the giant screen behind them, undulating between deep and pale shades of blue. The crowd noise had mostly died down to a muted murmur punctuated only by a few coughs and throats being cleared. The quiet was enough to have Kurt's stomach churning.

A single glimpse of Blaine's reassuring smile, and the nerves were gone.

A fleeting brush of their reaching fingertips, and Kurt was gone.

There was no introduction this time, simply Liam counting them in and strumming the introduction of their opening song: After Hours. It was fun and energetic, and sure to get the crowd moving. As Hugh joined in and the lights came up, Blaine stood with his feet shoulder-width apart, his back straight, and both hands curled around the mic.

"This door is always open, this door is always open, no one has the guts to shut us out," he sang. "But if we have to go now, I guess there's always hope that Charlie's will be serving after hours."

The crowd cheered at Blaine's inclusion of the bar's name, and Kurt couldn't help but grin, even despite his distaste for April's over-the-top, cheesy back-up choreography: tapping their watches and bobbing their heads side to side in time with the beat as they provided vocals on, "Time means nothing."

It was a fantastic choice to open the show—bright and bouncy enough to engage the audience but not showing off everything the band could do, not yet. That would be saved for the finale, when they closed the show with their own creation, a part for everyone and insanity abounds.

During the final refrain, Blaine removed the mic from its stand and strutted across the stage, slotting himself in between Kurt and Marcie and snaking his arm around Kurt's waist. When Blaine sang, "We're all right where we're supposed to be," Kurt responded with, "Time means nothing." And when he was back at his mic stand, the song drawing to its close, he only momentarily broke his rapport with the crowd to sing directly to Kurt, "Say that you'll stay."

Isn't that my line? Kurt wondered in distraction, listening without a full mind as the guys played through the song's final bars and the crowd burst into applause louder even than what they'd received in Ann Arbor.

"Cheer Up Charlie's!" Blaine exclaimed into the mic, raising his arms. "A very good evening to all of you! We're absolutely thrilled to be here in Austin, so thank you for having us. We're playing two sets tonight, and we've left some song lists scattered around because we'll be inviting a few of you up here to jam with us in the second set, so don't be shy! If there's a song you want to sing, write your name on a slip and bring it on up.

"My name's Blaine," he continued, and then gestured to each of the other band members in turn, "behind me on drums you'll see Hugh, over on guitar and keyboard you'll see Liam and Dan, on bass we've got Drake, there's April on vocals, and Marcie on trumpet.

"And next up, ladies and gentlemen, we have... Kurt," Blaine said, voice soft as he motioned Kurt over to the mic.

He went with weak knees and trembling hands, not knowing how much of it came from his adrenalin rush, and took the stand with a kiss to Blaine's cheek. Blaine's hand lingered at his waist for a moment, and then was gone. Kurt was alone under a spotlight, and it was almost as terrifying as the thought of offering himself to Blaine, flaws and all.

Kurt watched him climb down from the stage—his anchor, his touchstone, his reason—and glanced over at April, who smiled at him reassuringly. He could only hope that the song he had chosen to encapsulate everything managed to resonate in the way he wanted it to. It said it all, and said it all with hope. From his point of view, at least.

Hugh took up the percussive introduction; Kurt let his eyes slip momentarily closed and drew in a centering breath. This is it, Kurt, he thought. This is where it begins.

"You and I, blurred lines, we come together every time," he began, fixing his gaze upon the middle-distance. He couldn't look at Blaine, not when he still had an entire song to get through. "Two wrongs, no rights, we lose ourselves at night. From the outside, from the outside everyone must be wondering why we try. Why do we try?"

The song was soulful, not something that Kurt was used to singing, and though his upper range was still somewhat unpracticed, he found it easy to let his voice run over the notes in a comfortable flow. Being up on stage and feeling Blaine's eyes on him, singing for him and letting one hand grip the mic and the other drift up into his hair, Kurt felt... Sexy. Powerful. Like he could do this.

"Baby, in our wildest moments, we could be the greatest, we could be the greatest. Baby, in our wildest moments, we could be the worst of all."

He swayed in time with the beat, his eyes finally coming to rest upon Blaine as he sang, "What could bring bad luck? I've been looking at you too much." Drawing Blaine in was easy, and keeping him was easier. Their charged eye contact only faltered over, "We walk, we walk the line. Looking back I miss it, our wildest moments. Are you thinking what if, what if we ruined it all?" but recovered quickly enough for Kurt not to let the knot at the top of his stomach travel too far up and make him start biting his tongue again.

The song was a contradiction, lyrics that illustrated the war Kurt had been waging against himself for longer than he could ever truly know, but no more. They could be the worst, but they could also be the greatest. All he had to do was leap, and hope that Blaine was there to break his fall.

By the song's end, Hugh playing him out with the same drums that had begun it, Kurt was flying. He grinned and took his bow, smiled in response to the covert wink April threw his way, and accepted another passing kiss from Blaine as he took his place in backup once more.

"Just you wait," April whispered, leaning close enough to bump her shoulder against his as the next song began. "He's closing the first set with it."

"You'll love it, Kurt," Marcie said from his other side. With a wistful glance, she added, "He's really special."

Kurt glanced down at her fondly—she might as well have a flashing neon sign over her head that declared, 'Crush!' But she was young, and more importantly, wasn't taking it to the creepy place. "Yeah, he is," he replied at length, and hooked his pinky finger around the one she offered.

The remainder of the first set passed by in a blur. The stage was a bubble upon which lights were trained—Kurt could hear the crowd, even see some of their silhouettes beneath the marquee, but he was in a world where nothing existed save for the music and the love put into performing it. Before he knew it, April was ushering everyone off the stage, save for Blaine, Hugh, and Liam.

This is it, Kurt thought as April squeezed his arm. Blaine looped an electro-acoustic guitar across his body and took a seat on a tall wooden stool before his microphone. Please, B. Please tell me you feel the same.

As Blaine began to strum the opening bars of a song that Kurt didn't recognize, he leaned forward to speak into the mic. "Alright, folks. After this, we'll be taking a quick break so that you can all recover from the power of our awesome—just kidding. But we'll be back in fifteen minutes. This one is called Easy.

"What's a boy to do when you tell your tale? And it never fails, I just end up feeling bad for you," Blaine sang, and Kurt's blood ran cold. He grabbed April's hand and held on as tightly as he dared. "With your hang-dog eyes, you can bring me down; now I'm wrapped around your whole hand, stop looking so surprised."

"What the fuck," he hissed at April, who did nothing more than simply hold up a finger, her dark eyes still trained on the stage and her smile stretching wide.

"You make it easy, you make it easy," Blaine continued, his voice strong and assured and undercut with a tenderness that took the edge off Kurt's anxiety.

What are you trying to tell me? he wondered desperately, and then Blaine began to sing of someone forgetting what they were hiding for, someone being easy to adore even though they wanted to run away, and it all became clear as crystal. It was a response to Kurt's call; it was all or nothing; it was a plea. Wasn't it?

"See?" April said into his ear, and he looked at her dazedly. "See what I mean?"

He nodded dumbly, and his heart leapt into his throat when he turned his attention back to the stage. Blaine was watching him with intent and an astounding conviction as he sang the words, "Look what you have done. I can do the same, two can play this game; you'll no longer be the only one."

The rich, smooth timbre of Blaine's voice only grew stronger as he dove into the final chorus, and Kurt's resolve increased tenfold. No more fear, no more excuses, no more tip-toeing around a future he couldn't possibly know would ever arrive. He was going to tell Blaine that he was in love with him, and Blaine would tell him that he hadn't fallen in love alone, and they would go back to the R.V. and Kurt would finally find out exactly what "I love you" tasted like as he breathed it into Blaine's mouth.

"Thank you, Cheer Up Charlie's!" Blaine cried, wrapping up the song to rapturous applause. Kurt glanced out over the crowd and could see almost every single person in the gay bar—both men and women—gazing up at him adoringly. He wondered again why this wasn't what Blaine was doing every single night. "We'll be back in fifteen, so don't go anywhere!"

And then Kurt was moving, pushing his way back up onto the stage where Blaine was clapping Liam and Hugh on the back in turn, and he took a deep breath, about to ask Blaine to go somewhere they could talk in private, and—

"So what do you think about doing this for a living?" Hugh asked, eyes trained on Blaine, and the floor fell out from beneath Kurt's feet.

Blaine openly gaped at him for a second, and Kurt just stood there, hands by his sides.

"What do you mean?"

"The band's breaking up after this tour," Hugh said, "and a few of us are moving to New York to start a new thing, see if we can make it. April doesn't wanna sing lead, Will's staying back home for good now, and we were going to try and find someone there, but dude... We already know you, and you've got exactly what we need."

There was a roaring in Kurt's ears, and he could barely hear Blaine's sputtering response as he looked between Kurt and Hugh. He felt like an idiot, working himself up all night to tell Blaine that he'd seen the look in his eyes, because now he was seeing an entirely different look—like Blaine had seen his entire future flash in front of him, a future that was brighter than anything Kurt could possibly offer. He was going to go to New York and start making the music that still lingered in patches across the skin of Kurt's back—it was a reaffirmation of the nomad Kurt had been afraid of when he'd agreed to come along for the road trip, and he was back standing in the shadow of a mountain.

"Just think about it, okay? You don't have to give me an answer now," Hugh was saying with a tone of finality, and as he passed them to join the rest of the band at the bar, Blaine turned to Kurt and opened his mouth.

"You should do it," Kurt blurted, cutting off whatever Blaine was about to say.

"Sure, just waste my entire college education," Blaine replied derisively, but it was too late. Kurt already knew that Blaine wanted to go more than anything; he'd been shifting for weeks already. They would get back to Maine at the end of this road trip and it would be over. It wasn't like Kurt was just going to up sticks and move to New York—he had a career of his own to think about beginning, and the last time he'd checked, being a groupie wasn't exactly a viable profession.

"Well, like Hugh said... Think about it," he managed, pasting on a smile that he hoped didn't look as fake as it felt. "You're different when you perform. Something about it just seems right."

Blaine scoffed and shook his head, and guided Kurt off stage with a hand in the small of his back.

"So what did you think?" Blaine asked as they stood at the bar waiting to be served, nudging his shoulder.

Kurt swallowed. "You were really good," he replied, mouth dry.

"Hey, what were you gonna tell me earlier?"

"When?"

"I asked you why you were in such a good mood, and you said you'd tell me later," Blaine clarified.

"Oh, that. Nothing, really," Kurt breathed, turning his gaze on the crowd for the moment it took him to collect himself. Nothing, except that I love you. Nothing, except that I would do pretty much anything to hear you say that you love me back. Nothing, except that I've been daydreaming what my life will look like in five, ten, fifteen years, and in every single one there you are by my side, holding not just my hand but all of me.

Kurt didn't say any of that. How could he? Blaine deserved to have nothing standing in his way, whatever decision he made about his future. He deserved to be free to have his name up in lights, not tied to Maine while Kurt tried to figure out where he was going and how he was going to get there.

April caught his eye as she wound her way through the crowd, and gave him a questioning thumbs-up. He simply shook his head, and scuffed his shoe against the bar's poured concrete base.

"Where do you go?" Blaine asked around a chuckle. Kurt cut off his train of thought and looked at him in question, and he continued, "When you get that faraway look in your eyes."

"Are you saying that I'm vacant?" Kurt replied, dredging humor from reserves he'd have thought depleted.

"No, no. No, it's... You look like you're in this whole other world, some place I can't find you."

"I don't go anywhere."

"Not even sometimes?" Blaine pressed.

"Maybe, I..." Kurt trailed off, finally letting the question have the weight that Blaine obviously intended. And he saw that it was true—for weeks he'd been skirting the edges of a brave new world, dancing within reach of possibility and metamorphosis, but now came the reality check. Now came the break of day, chasing away the artifice and bathing everything in fact. He shook his head, and finally answered, "No. No, I'm always here."

Blaine smiled, kissed his cheek, and whispered, "Good."

Yeah, Kurt thought sadly. Good.



Distance: 8,108 miles