Revelation- noun: A surprising and previously unknown fact, esp. one made in a dramatic way.
I don’t like talking about my past, nor do I like when people ask me about it. I’ve been through so much in order to be where I’m at now. I’ve sacrificed my family just to continue to be who I really am. When I think about what I have left, I become scared; Everything I have, can disappear any second, and then what would i do? Who would I be?
“Kurt?” I placed my keys down on the counter in the kitchen. As I took my jacket off, I heard a rustling coming from the basement.
“Babe?” I hung my jacket on the hook next to the basement door. The door was cracked, leaking unnatural light into the somewhat dark kitchen. I opened the door and slowly walked down the aged stairs, each step heaving in pain as I press my weight onto them. As I sunk under the level of the main floor, I saw Kurt sitting at his desk maniacally hovering and scribbling onto a stack of papers in front of him. Kurt just recently lost his occupation of a hobby as a wedding designer. His last wedding landed in complete disaster due to the brides lack of compliance and structure. His boss had given him this assignment on purpose as a test to see if Kurt had what it takes to be his own boss and schedule his own venues of espousal. It seemed like Kurt’s boss had almost purposely handed him assignments he knew he would fail to succeed in.
Kurt threw his pencil at his desk and leaned back in his desk chair, he removed his glasses, and began rubbing his eyes with his index finger and thumb. I walked over to him, still invisible to him ever since his talent was shot down. He slid his glasses back on and stared at the unfinished ceiling of our crude basement. I placed my hand on his shoulder, bearing my feelings in one single action. He shrugged my hand off with a jerk.
“I’m tired.” He mumbled angrily and shot forward, slouching over the pile of papers once again.
“Then come to bed.” I told him gently.
“Not now, Blaine.” Kurt licked his finger and searched for nothing, flipping through half of the stack of what seemed like receipts.
“Kurt.” I pleaded. He grunted and continued to ignore me. I stared at him, painfully holding back tears. My mind stormed with a mix of emotions on what to say or do next.
“Kurt, do you remember when we couldn’t get enough of each other’s company? You never wanted me to leave your side when I opened up l'acoustique peints. You barely look at me like you used to. Am I not what you want anymore?” I choked. He sighed, annoyed.
“Kurt, answer me.” I said angrily. Snapping between emotions seemed to be our cup of tea lately. “What do you want me to say, Blaine? You’re being selfish. Do you know what this is?” He reached over and snatched up the inch high stack of papers on his desk. I shook my head.
“Of course not, because i’m the only one that cares to file our receipts. We’ve hit rock bottom, Blaine. I don’t see how we’re going to pay our bills the next time they come around. With me losing my job and you only pumping out a little cash from that stupid art gallery you own, we’re scraping along. And yet every time I try telling you this, you keep spending money. And what the hell is this?” He held up the top paper.
“An eighty dollar receipt for Godiva chocolate, And a sixty dollar receipt for H and M? We can’t afford this kind of shit, Blaine.”
“Stupid art gallery?” Kurt slammed the paper down on his desk.
“Out of all I just said that’s all you heard? You spent a hundred and fifty dollars yesterday on your own pleasure when you knew for a fact you didn’t need any of that.”
“Is it my fault that I wanted to get my fiance something he enjoys for our five year anniversary?” I yelled. Kurt stared at me blankly.
“Or did you forget like you did last year?” Kurt shook his head and turned back to his desk.
“I didn’t forget, Blaine. I told you I was so busy that i couldn’t go out and get you anything.” Both of us were silent. I stood staring at him while he sat, staring at a picture of him and I on his desk. I had so many feelings wash over me in the past minute that I began to feel as if I were just almost hit by a train.
“I’m going to bed.” I didn’t wait for a response, I just turned around and walked up the steps.
“I love you.” He whispered. In my mind I responded the same three words. But the thought of escaping from our harsh reality by sinking into the sheets and forgetting our problems in sleep over-ruled my words.
I’ve never woken up this early before, but it’s hard to ignore the complaining growl coming from my abdomen. I could hear Kurt’s quiet snore beside me. I rubbed my eyes and yawned. Kurt moaned and readjusted himself, his leg pressed against mine.
“Blaine?” Kurt’s morning voice cracked. I smiled and rolled over, resting my lips on Kurt’s shoulder blade.
“Good morning.” He slowly turned over and placed his hands on my face.
“I’m so sor-” Before he could finish, I kissed him long and hard. Kurt laced his fingers in my messy hair and pulled me in closer. I slipped my hand into Kurt’s shirt and trailed my fingers up his back. He giggled between kisses and rolled over on top of me. Kurt pecked a kiss on my lips and stared at me, smiling.
“I’ve missed us being playful.” He said, staring into my eyes. Kurt look so perfect in the morning; I loved how one side of his hair pointed up while the other was calm and down. His eyes were small and a brighter blue than usual, and his lips were the shade of a pink rose. I brought my hand to his face and ran my thumb over his tinged cheeks.
“Me too. What are you doing today?” I smiled and placed my hands on the small of his back. He contemplated while drawing circles on my shoulder with his finger. In no time, he found my thick scar on my left shoulder, peaking out of my armpit. He traced it with his finger, but didn’t ask.
“I never have plans anymore, what are you doing?” I exhaled, relieved of his oblivious ignorance and closed my eyes.
*
“Mom?” I walked into my parents room, there was no sign of my mother, nor my father. Light peeked out through the crack between the bathroom door and the floor underneath it. I could hear my mother weeping hysterically on the other side.
“Shut up!” My father screamed. I stood at a distance from the door, hoping my mother would run out.
“John! Let me out of here!” My mother begged in a harsh tone.
“So you can go back to work and fuck your boss?” He yelled.
“I’m not having sex with him!” It fell silent for a moment then a harsh slam and struggle filled my ears. I should be used to this by now, I told my twelve year old self. My mother screamed in pain. I ran to the door and threw it open, terrified for my mothers life. My father turned around, glaring at me angrily. My mother was in the bath tub, curled up and trembling. I ran over to her.
“Mom!” I cried. As my back was turned to him, he grabbed a fist full of my curls and turned me around.
“Boy, what the hell did i tell you about interrupting me while i’m talking to your mother!” He scolded.
“John, leave Blaine alone please. This is between you and I.”
“Tell him that! He always seems to take your side no matter what i have to say about anything. He’s a fucking mammas boy. You’re turning him into a damn faggot!” He pushed me behind him and charged at my mother, grabbing her by the hair and bringing her up to level with him.
“He needs to watch a good beating, maybe it’ll straighten his ass up!” My mother struggled and cried. She put up a fight by clawing at my fathers face, he slapped her hard across the face and dropped her back into the bath tub. He turned and grabbed his shaving razor from the edge of the sink.
“Dad! No!” I screamed and ran towards him, my arms up to grab his arm. He swung around and the razor sliced into my arm. The razor carved upward, starting from the middle of my armpit, up to my shoulder; a two inch long incision . My mother screamed in terror and i dropped to the floor.
*
I gulped and grabbed Kurt’s hips and lifted him off of me; My arm slightly aching from the effort and remembrance.
“What’s wrong?” Kurt asked softly as I got out of bed.
“Nothing...Um, I’m going to l'acoustique peints. We’re having a different performer play today, and I wanted to go watch. Would you like to come with me? Or is my art gallery to stupid for you?” I asked, remembering his words from last night. Kurt began to look annoyed
“You know i didn’t mean that, Blaine.”
“I’m not too sure, considering you’re the most honest when you’re mad.”
“Blaine, I love your art gallery. I love that you’re unique and have little Indie performers play while people look at your art and other peoples art. You know that i’m more jealous of that place than anything.” He got out of bed and walked towards me.
“I don’t mean everything I say when i’m mad.” He wrapped his arms around my neck and slightly looked down at me.
“I love you.” He said and kissed me.
“I love you too, Kurt.” I smiled.
“So I can come with you?” He smiled and stared into my eyes. I bit my lip and carressed his hips. “As long as you take a shower with me.” Kurt’s expression changed from playful to seductive within seconds; I taught him that.
***
“I never knew you had a studio behind l'acoustique peints.”
“I don’t use this one as much as the one at home. I mostly open this to a friend of mines’ painting class.” Kurt nodded and walked around, hovering over every little object in the room. I watched him while i held a painting I wanted to move. I always loved how easily he could walk with those adorable big feet of his. Kurt slowly grapevined his way around the room, looking at everything on the shelves to paintings on the walls.
“I love how much character this place has.” He turned to me and caught me staring at him.
“What?” I placed the painting down and shook my head slowly, still staring at him. He raised his nose in the air and walked over to me, playfully. As he got closer I reached my hands out and grabbed his. He stared into my eyes. His lips parted, but he didn’t say a word.
“You’re beautiful, Kurt. Everything you do, is just...perfect.” He let go of one of my hands and brought it to my cheek.
“You’re looking at me like you used to look at me in high school. Like a puppy that just fell in love.”
“I fall in love all over, every time I look at you, Kurt.” He leaned in and stopped, leaving a tiny space between a passionate kiss.
“You had me from the very beginning, and i’m never leaving.” He breathed. Not letting me respond, he closed the space between us and pressed his lips to mine. The same feeling washed over both of us. I knew because I could feel his body shudder as he pressed his chest against mine, and mine responded back with the same action. His lips danced and the sweet taste of him poured into my mouth like an avalanche. I moaned and kissed him like I would lose him any second. I placed my fingertips on his spine and gripped his back, pushing him into me. Kurt moved his hand from my cheek to the back of my head, lacing his fingers in my short curls, and pushing me even closer. The only sound that danced through the room was our synchronized breathing, a few cracks from our lips parting in different ways and a moan here and there. Kurts other hand gripped my hip and he began to rock himself into me along with the motion of his kissing. Someone cleared their throat behind us.
“Blaine?” I jerked away from Kurt as fast as I could when I recognized the persons voice. Kurt stood frozen, catching his breath. I could tell by the way his back was stiffening that he wasn’t happy.
“Blaine what’s going on here?” My dad stood in the doorway with a furious facial expression, his fists at his sides. Just like old times, i thought.
“Dad.” I had no other words. What was I supposed to say? How long had he been standing there? The questions flooding my head brought in an overwhelming harsh feeling over my stomach. And in an instant, all my dignity washed away. All the courage I had spent so long developing, crumbled before me. My dad charged at me, unexpectedly, and gripped me from the collar of my t-shirt.
“I don’t ever want to see that faggot shit again, do you hear me?” I sunk in his grip. My knees hit the floor and I stared at Kurt. Kurts face was frozen in shock.
“Boy, you better look at me!” My father roared and shook me. My eyes shot to my dads’.
“Why couldn’t you be normal? Why couldn’t you be a real son? You’re off doing this shit while your mother is in the hospital? What the fuck is wrong with you Blaine?” Tears streamed down my face. I was no longer in my twenties...I was nine again. All my fear surfaced, and I broke.
“I go to the hospital every day, and where are you?” I screamed and looked up to him through my puffy eyes.
“You did this to her dad! Again!” He pulled me up to his level and pushed me against a table.
“You’re a fucking horrible husband, and a horrible dad and I hate you! Why can’t you just go away? I hate you!” My screams echoed through the studio. One moment i was quivering in his grasp, and the next I was slowly falling to the ground, trying not to give into the darkness. I could feel my fathers fist still on my cheek as I hit the floor, absorbing the fall with my head on the concrete floor. And in my last few blinks before going over, I watched my fathers back walk away from me, again, like he walked away from me and my mother, years ago.
***