Chapter 6

The following week passed so slowly, Kurt sometimes wondered whether the time didn't simply stand still. Between their classes and dinners with Carole and Burt, him and Rachel spent long hours waiting for news that did not come frequently enough. And the family meals only reminded them why they were all together. No distraction could take their minds off Finn for long.

'So, Kurt, is there someone special?,' started Carole one night, determined to take the conversation away from her son's condition. She probably needed a distraction more than anybody else.

Burt rolled his eyes, far from willing to hear about Kurt's love life. As much as he loved his son to bits, any discussion of a boyfriend was a painfully uncomfortable experience for him. And he was quite positive it would be no different if his son was a daughter.

'Um, no, Carole, no boyfriend,' replied Kurt, with a small embarrassed smile. He was almost as keen on a family discussion of his love life as his father.

Rachel cleared her throat, prompting Kurt to send her a meaningful glare over his plate of salad.

'Rachel, honey, he's not telling us something, am I right?'

Kurt kicked Rachel under the table, startling her into jumping up a good couple of inches into the air.

'No, why?'

''Cause he just kicked you under the table,' chuckled Burt.

'No, he didn't.'

Kurt leaned back in his chair, staring at the ceiling.

'Rachel thinks I like a freshman at NYADA.'

'Oh, who is he?,' asked Carole excitedly.

'Dad, help!,' Kurt mouthed to his father. At this point, however, Burt was beginning to enjoy himself for the first time in days, and didn't want his fun spoiled, so he shrugged helplessly in response. 'It doesn't matter, Carole, it's all a figment of Rachel's imagination.'

'Well, not exactly, I didn't make Blaine up.'

Another murderous glare was directed at Rachel.

'Blaine? What a nice name.'

Kurt prevented himself from giving his step-mother a similar look.

A moment of awkward silence made them all remember what was the reason of their desperate search for a distraction.

But he news from Germany got better and better with each passing day. Finn's surgery went well, no additional damage was uncovered, and he was on his way to recovery. Within three weeks, Finn was going to be transported from Heidelberg back to the US, and Burt had pulled all possible strings to get him somewhere close to his family. Eventually, it was settled that Finn would be treated and rehabilitated in West Point. Having him just a little over an hour away was a great comfort; they felt as if that somehow made Finn safer than he would be anywhere else.

During the tough couple of weeks, Kurt was seeing much more of Chandler than he'd thought he would at all in New York City. And the awkwardness he'd noticed over the summer between them seemed to have vanished. The most comforting part of being with Chandler now was that Kurt could for once let everything out, and not care about what his dad, Carole, or Rachel were thinking. Chandler was there for him, and only him. He passed him tissues when Kurt was crying, and held him, and soothed him, and listened to him.

The day the news of Finn coming to West Point was announced to the Hudson-Hummels and Rachel, Chandler came over, as he did almost every day for the last two weeks. They went to Kurt's room with cups of coffee in their hands and a plate of cookies Carole had baked.

Kurt was going back to his regular self, no longer worried out of his mind about his step-brother. This time there was no need for tissues, or reassuring pats on the back.

'Oh my, I love what you did with this room!,' said Chandler, having settled in the chair by Kurt's desk. 'Really classy.'

Kurt was sitting on the edge of his bed, starting to regain the feeling of uneasiness he'd recently lost. Somehow the idea to take Chandler into his room didn't seem so good anymore. The two of them together in a room with a bed, behind closed doors… That brought them back to the few really embarrassing moments they shared under similar circumstances back in Lima. It wasn't something Kurt was willing to relive.

Unfortunately, Chandler seemed to disagree.

While Kurt's attention started drifting off to the (not always) good old times, Chandler kept prattling on. About the room, about the flat, about them together…

Kurt snapped out of his reverie, when Chandler suddenly appeared right next to him, sitting down facing him on the bed. Kurt's breath hitched. That is NOT what I wanted.

'Kurt, can we start over?', Chandler asked.

There was nothing that couldn't be predicted about this situation; they used to be a couple, they were both single, they still had plenty in common, they were no longer divided by almost six hundred miles of land. But Kurt hadn't thought of that. He certainly hadn't intended that.

He was unable to find his voice, and before he knew it, Chandler was leaning towards him, clearly expecting a similar gesture from Kurt. When Kurt didn't move a millimeter, it didn't discourage Chandler. Until his lips were on Kurt's.

And the feeling was so familiar… Those lips pressing on his own, the warm body closing in… The hand grasping the back of his neck. His reason told him to pull back, open his eyes and tell Chandler to get out.

But it all felt so good. He had almost forgotten how he liked the sensation of being kissed, the rushed heartbeats, the sweaty palms…

Then his thoughts shifted. He recalled how distant he and Chandler grew, how he never could open up completely before him about what he'd been through. How he never could imagine them growing old together.

He realized he was already half-lying, and Chandler was leaning over him. And all of the sudden the good sensation began to simultaneously feel wrong.

Kurt raised his hands, pushing Chandler gently away.

'Stop,' he mumbled under Chandler's urgent lips.

Chandler recoiled startled. He fixed his gaze on Kurt's defensively lifted hands.

'I'm- I'm so sorry, if you thought that I…' The words had to be said, but having to practically repeat the experience of breaking up with Chandler was not something he was comfortable with. There was nothing in the world Kurt Hummel liked less than hurting people. 'I don't want to get back together,' he let the words out in one stream.

'Oh.'

Chandler was fighting to keep his face straight, not to show the disappointment and hurt that were starting to take over.

'I guess I should go,' he managed to say, before standing up, and heading for the door.

'Chandler, wait!'

But he was already gone.

***

The two weeks following Kurt's brother's injury Blaine spent mostly searching for Kurt in the NYADA hallways. He didn't mean to force himself into Kurt's life, he simply wanted to make sure Kurt was doing fine. He noticed Rachel was slowly regaining her usual babbling personality. The glimpses of Kurt he managed to catch each day seemed to prove the worst was over.

Kurt's hair was again as perfect as the first time he'd seen him, the bags under his eyes became almost unnoticeable.

Till one Tuesday, when he was heading home, Blaine stumbled upon a depressed Kurt sitting on a set of stairs with his chin propped on his hands.

'Hi,' Blaine started uncertainly. 'Is everything okay? Something with your brother?'

Kurt looked up sadly at him, shaking his head.

'No, it's not that.'

'Wanna talk?'

A fleeting relieved smile crossed Kurt's lips.

'Yeah. Coffee?'

'Sure.'

They found a quiet table in the corner of a small coffee shop nearby, where they say down with their steaming cups. Silence lingered for a moment.

'So, why are you so upset?,' Blaine asked.

Kurt sighed heavily, waving his hand dismissively.

'It's stupid, really. Especially considering what we've been through with Finn and all… It just seems so… petty.'

'Tell me, I promise I'm not going to judge.'

Two smiles were exchanged, and two gazes were dropped onto two cups of coffee.

'Um- It's my ex-boyfriend,' Kurt said, stressing the "ex".

Blaine couldn't say he was surprised by the existence of an ex-boyfriend, but felt a slight pang of jealousy.

'What about him?'

'Well, he wanted to get back together, and I… I didn't.' He shrugged uneasily. 'It just gets me down, 'cause he's a good guy, and I… I just don't really like disappointing people.'

Blaine nodded sympathetically.

'You shouldn't beat yourself up. It probably wouldn't work out anyway, if you didn't want it, right?'

'Yeah, I guess,' sighed Kurt. 'But still, I'd rather be friends with him, and it didn't really turn out that way. He stormed out before I could stop him.'

'Ouch.'

'Yeah, but if I were any less firm about it, I'd probably give in, and we'd end up horizontally, before I could say "I don't want to get back together."'

Kurt paused and laughed nervously, when he realized he might have shared a little too much. It was so easy to talk to Blaine, he sometimes forgot they barely knew each other.

'I think you did what you had to. You should look out for yourself.' Blaine was trying to push away the thoughts that started crowding his mind at Kurt's use of the word horizontally. They were way too distracting. 'Um- And how long were you two together for?'

'Six months. But that was almost a year ago.' He stopped for a moment. 'We met back in Lima, we were both finishing high school, and we both wanted to go to New York for college. But I got in, and he didn't. And the long-distance thing didn't work out. Maybe if I were more invested in it, I don't know.' Another shrug, another sad expression.

Blaine was taking in every word, every motion, every twitch in Kurt's face. After a moment's hesitation he decided to asked a question.

'And did you… Did you love him?'

Kurt's eyes snapped up. The question surprised him a little, but it didn't feel like Blaine was being nosy; he seemed genuinely interested in Kurt's life. Like a friend would be.

'I don't know. I thought I did, but now… I don't think so.' He paused, and opened his mouth a second later, as if he wanted to add something, but hesitated.

'Yeah?,' Blaine prompted.

Kurt laughed and shook his head in response.

'It's terribly silly.'

'I'd rather judge for myself. I'm not going to laugh.'

'Okay.' Kurt looked around, making sure there was no one in the vicinity to eavesdrop on them. 'Have you ever seen The Notebook?'

'Sure. Why?'

'Well, I always dreamed to have a love story like that to tell my children, and grandchildren. Only to be able to have the love of my life by my side when we're old, wrinkled and gray-haired, you know?'

'To grow old together. That's not silly at all.'

'You think so?'

'Absolutely. I happen to have a very similar dream myself.'

***

Hours flew by. Neither of them felt the passing of time; they realized how long it had been only when Blaine noticed with astonishment it was already dark outside. Their conversation jumped from Kurt's love life to Vogue covers, to Broadway shows, to Lima, and then to show choir competitions with unbelievable ease.

'Oh god, I should be going,' said Kurt, finally taking a peek at his cell phone to check the time. 'I'm the one cooking dinners, so I have to run, unless I want to starve my best friend.'

They started standing up and putting their coats on.

'You and Rachel seem an odd pair of best friends. She seems so bitchy most of the time, and you're just so… nice.'

Kurt barked out a laugh.

'I know. But when you get to know her better, you'll see we're quite alike.' He paused, realizing what he'd just said. 'I mean, if you did, you would.'

'Yeah, I know,' said Blaine hastily, hoping deep down Kurt had meant exactly what he'd said the first time. 'So, you can cook. Wow. Though I guess I shouldn't be surprised.'

'Please, it's not like I can cook the fanciest dishes in the world. But if I were to believe my family – and Rachel, but she's basically family – I am one hell of a chef.'

Kurt led the way to the door, which he held for Blaine on the way out. His gallantry impressed Blaine; there were so few gentlemen left.

'I can only believe your word.'

'Come on, you'll get to taste the Hummel cuisine some time.' Kurt smiled at him, his eyes sparkling. 'You could come with me tonight, but… You know, it's crowded now with my family, and Rachel considers herself a great matchmaker, and it would just be awkward…'

Blaine raised his eyebrows at matchmaker. Kurt raised his right hand to stop him from talking.

'Don't ask. It's just typical crazy Rachel.' He shook his head.

Thankfully, Kurt was looking away from Blaine when an expression of disappointment crossed his face. Apparently Rachel considered them a good match, but the concept of them together was ridiculous to Kurt. Well, it's better to learn something like that now, than when I've already fallen for him.

They walked in silence, until they reached Kurt's subway station.

'So… Um- See you at NYADA?,' said Blaine, breaking the silence – awkward to him, pleasant and companionable to Kurt.

'Yes. It was a really nice coffee.' Kurt gave Blaine a friendly squeeze on the arm, smiling. 'Oh, and you're coming to dinner sometime, when I get rid of my family.'

'I'll hold you to that promise.'

The last smiles were exchanged, Kurt waved his hand at Blaine gracefully, leaving him at the entrance to the subway station. Blaine lingered a moment, his hands stuck in his pockets to shield him from the evening chill, and his gaze glued to the spot where Kurt had just disappeared. Finally, he sighed and turned around, heading for the dorms.

Meanwhile, Kurt was getting on the subway, sitting next to a window, and smiling to himself involuntarily, all the while thinking of the last few hours.

***

At the apartment, Kurt directed his steps straight to the kitchen. He was already late with the dinner; Carole and Burt were supposed to arrive in less than half an hour. Kurt washed his hands hastily over the sink, blessing himself for having prepared the chicken last night. All there was to do was chopping up vegetables and steaming the whole lot.

As he was busy in the kitchen, the music that was seeping out of Rachel's room stopped, and she emerged into the main room.

'Hi, Kurtie.'

Her tone betrayed her curiosity.

'Hi, Rachel. Whatever it is, ask the question,' he said with a sigh.

'I know for a fact that you finish classes at the same hour as I do, but somehow I've been home over four hours ago, and you came like… four minutes ago.'

'I didn't hear the question.'

'Where were you?' Her voice wasn't accusing or judgmental, it was simply full of excitement.

There was no point in telling anything but the truth, even if it meant a validation of what she imagined she saw between him and Blaine.

'I was having coffee with Blaine.'

Rachel squealed excitedly. Kurt wasn't looking at her, but could swear he heard her throw a fist in the air in a triumphant gesture.

'Rache, we had coffee. In a coffee shop, with people around, and our hands on the table. And the only thing we used our mouths for, was conversation. Well, and drinking coffee. Nothing more.'

'If you say so.' She didn't seem discouraged in the slightest. 'But I know what I know.'

***

As he was opening his dorm room's door, Blaine's lips were arching slightly upwards; it was an immensely enjoyable afternoon, after all. He'd never even thought he really stood a chance with Kurt anyway. And the hours they spent together over their coffee cups, talking so unreservedly, made him like Kurt even more than he already had.

Blaine was so absorbed by his Kurt-themed reverie, he didn't even notice Trent, until his roommate looked up from his laptop, took off his headphones and addressed him. He actuallytalked to Blaine.

'Oh, somebody was on a date, I assume.'

Blaine hopped up startled, and frowned at Trent. Since when were they speaking again? And without insults?

'Okay, so now you want to discuss my extracurricular activities?'

'Um… Blaine, I know I was a dick to you. And you were right that I was lashing out on you because of something that… wasn't about you. And I'm sorry.'

Blaine bit his lip, eyeing Trent carefully; he seemed to be genuinely sorry.

'Apology accepted?' It was more of a question.

'So who did you go out with?'

'So you're going from homophobic asshole to gay's BFF overnight? Wow, that's impressive.'

'First of all, it's not exactly overnight, and second – I'm just curious.' He paused, considering something. 'And I guess we should get along better, if we have to stand one another in here.'

Blaine held his hands up in surrender.

'Fine. But it's not like I'm amnesiac.'

'Okay. So you won't tell me who it was?'

'Geez, really? You'll bug me now every time I come to the dorm late?' Blaine fell backwards to his bed. This was getting stranger by the minute.

'Well, roomies should know who their roomies date, right?' Trent grinned widely.

Blaine groaned, covering his face and sitting up.

'First of all, it wasn't a date,' he said, mimicking Trent's voice, 'and second, it was Kurt.'

Trent raised his eyebrows in disbelief.

'You went out with Kurt Hummel, the most flaming of all NYADA gays, and you're saying it wasn't a date?'

'No, it wasn't. Can't two gay guys have coffee as friends?,' said Blaine, a little too harshly.

A crooked half-smile appeared on Trent's face.

'Well, they can I suppose, but someone's disappointed it wasn't a date.'

Blaine rolled his eyes.

'Okay, BFF gossip time's over.'

***

That Tuesday night Carole announced that Finn was going to arrive in West Point at the weekend, and arrangements were made for them all to go and greet him.

And so at noon on Saturday, Burt and Carole came to pick up Kurt and Rachel from Greenpoint in a rented Chevy SUV.

And after an hour and a half of chit-chat while driving up the state, trying not to think of the condition they will find Finn in, they arrived at the Keller Army Community Hospital. They asked at the nurses' desk if PFC Hudson had already arrived at the facility. The answer was they were expecting him any minute.

So they waited.

An hour passed before a distant sound of a helicopter was heard, growing louder and closer with each minute. They were instructed to wait in the lobby, and Finn would be wheeled in when the aircraft had landed.

They were aware Finn would be seriously hurt, both on his body and mind. They knew there would be a cast, bandages, a wheelchair… They knew he'd be traumatized by the blast.

But the person they saw in that wheelchair was hardly the one they remembered. His hair cut almost to the skin shocked no longer. His injured leg outstretched before him in a cast, the half-healed cuts on his face and forearms, and the bandage on his right hand, they were all to be expected.

His face was what had changed the most. No trace of that goofy smile. No light in those usually sparkling eyes. It was the face of a stranger; an unmoving, unfamiliar mask.