Chapter Eight

June 2014

Kurt woke up with the sunlight streaming into his face before his alarm was due to ring at 9:00 a.m.  He shielded his eyes groggily.  Last night, alone in the loft for the first time, he had left the privacy curtains open. He'd have to make sure to draw the blinds before going to bed tonight.  

He yawned and rolled out of bed and onto the floor to do his morning push-ups and stretches, trying to get his blood moving and wake up fully.  This important duty done, he wandered out into the empty kitchen.

It was eerily quiet.  The Berrys were habitually early risers, and had usually run their morning scales, showered, and dressed before Kurt was even out of bed.  And Blaine was a firm believer in hot breakfasts, even on weekdays. So Kurt was accustomed to seeing Blaine's perpetually happy face greet him with a stack of homemade blueberry pancakes, or an omelette, or steel-cut Irish oatmeal, or all three.  Even on an off-day, Blaine never failed to make coffee and hand-squeeze fruit juice for the loft.  

So Kurt's spoiled stomach rumbled its demand for breakfast.  He opened the refrigerator and surveyed the contents.  There was nothing in there but ingredients Blaine had stocked for him before he left for California.  Kurt certainly knew his way around a kitchen; he could make elaborate, classic French dishes that were way beyond Blaines repertoire.  But for Kurt, cooking was all about the presentation, the artistry.  Without an audience to appreciate his creations, cooking felt like just another chore.  Besides, he didn't have time.  So he grabbed a piece of fruit and a roll, poured a glass of milk, and sat down at the table.  

He looked across the table at Blaine's empty chair and choked down the cold food quickly. He missed Blaine's cheerful morning patter.  It usually helped get him in a good mood for the day, even though their morning conversations were largely one-sided until Kurt fully woke up.  He wondered what was Blaine doing at that moment,  but it was too early to call California, to see how the trip was going and chat a little.  He rinsed his milk glass and dried it, setting it back on the shelf, and brushed away the crumbs from the table.  

Kurt wondered why he was feeling so blue.  He wasn't used to being alone, he supposed.  It reminded him of bad times, like when his dad was in the hospital.  

That was it.  

His phone pinged on the charger and he picked it up.  Text from Blaine.  Kurt's heart leaped in his chest.  

"Just got up making breakfast for coop and rae"

"going to beach today yay"

"wish you were here :)   rae says hi"

Kurt smiled, and tapped out a response, before he jumped up and headed for the bathroom to start his morning beauty routine, suddenly feeling happier and more himself.  

~ * ~ * ~

July 2014

“Hey, Blaine,” Kurt said to the bright-eyed face appearing on his computer screen.  “How's the Cali life?  I haven't heard from you in a while.  What's going on there?”

“Hi!  I've been having a great time!  I booked a commercial, and even got a guest shot on CSI!  I'm Corpse Number Three!” Blaine bounced up and down in his seat excitedly.

Kurt fell over on the couch laughing for nearly a minute, before managing to sit up and choke out, “They cast you as a corpse?  You're only the most animated, hyper kid I've ever met!  I've never seen you sit still for more than a second at a time!”  He wiped his eyes, still laughing at the thought of the liveliest person he'd ever met playing a dead body.

“I'll have you know that I can play dead!” Blaine insisted with a good-natured grin.  “You'll see when it's on.  We'll watch it together and you can admire my acting method and apologize for your lack of confidence.  Cooper's been coaching me.”

“Oh god.”

Blaine laughed.  “I know.  But, again, I'm just a corpse.  I just have to pick an expression and hold it while the detectives look at me in the morgue.  Then they'll put me back in the drawer.”

“At least they're not putting you back in the closet. Speaking of which, I hear it's wall-to-wall hotties out there--is it as great as they say?

“If you're into tall, blonde, tan guys with perfect bodies, I guess,” Blaine assented, with a coy eye-roll.

“So?  Any action?”  Kurt teased with a laugh..

Blaine smirked, a little smug  “Well, I have been out with this one guy a bunch of times.  Kind of a summer fling, I guess.  His name's Jean.”

Kurt stopped giggling. “Oh.  Oh, you - - you met him out in L.A.?”

“We ran into each other randomly out here at an open call, but actually, we met before - - in New York at show choir Nationals.  He was a senior and the lead singer of his show choir, ‘Throat Explosion'."  Blaine made a little explosion gesture with his hands in front of his throat, and laughed.  "They came in a pretty close second.  It was just one point separating them from us.  Jeans super talented - - and he wears bow ties too, like me!  He's from Quebec and his parents were in Cirque du Soleil, so.  He's really  flexible.”  

Kurt felt a sharp pain in his chest.  Either he was suffering a very early heart attack or he was having the most violently jealous reaction of his entire life.  And considering his relationship with Finn and Rachel in high school, that was saying a lot.

“Kurt?  Is the connection frozen?” Blaine leaned forward and tapped his computer.  “The picture's not moving - -”

“I have to go."

“Kurt?  Wait - what's the matter?  Are you okay?  Kurt - - are you crying?”

“I'm not crying.  I just have to go.  I'll - - I'll talk to you later, Blaine.”

Before a stunned and confused Blaine could respond, Kurt disconnected the Skype session.  He was shocked at his own reaction. He was actually fighting back hurt, jealous tears.  Which was ridiculous.  Blaine could see whoever he wanted to.  Kurt certainly didn't care.  

Except he did.  

He did care. And in an instant of clarity, he suddenly realized exactly what he had expected and what he wanted.  

Blaine was supposed to be in love with Kurt, like he had been for years.  Blaine was supposed to wait for Kurt until Blaine grew up and was old enough … that was supposed to be how it went.  He wasn't supposed to forget about Kurt and fall in love with some creepy French-Canadian acrobat, of all things.  But now ... Blaine was moving on.

And it hurt. It hurt like hell.

But maybe it was for the best.  

Blaine needed love like a flower needed sunshine.  He needed it more than any person Kurt had ever met, and Blaine had so, so much love to give.  It was right that he give that love to someone who could be there for him and love him back without … issues.  And that wouldn't … couldn't be Kurt, not for a long time, if ever.

Kurt resolved then and there to get a handle on his feelings.  He would call Blaine back, and pretend to be happy for him and his new summer romance, no matter how much it hurt.  

He owed him that. .  

August 2014

“So.  When am I gonna meet this boyfriend of yours?  You've been seein' him for how long now?”  Burt demanded over breakfast souffle at the Hummel house.

“About a year and a half,” Kurt said, finding himself surprised at the answer.  Had it really been that long?  He placed a bowl of cut fruit in front of Burt and pointed at it authoritatively.

Burt obediently took a small piece of fruit.  “Hm.  And he's never come home with you in all this time? Not even for Schuester's wedding.”

Kurt fidgeted.  “I guess he hasn't, now that you mention it.”

“And he's never been around when I visited you in New York, either.”  Burt shrugged.  “I get it.  You're embarrassed by the old man, that's it, right?  Not fancy enough for your fancy British boyfriend?”

“You are pretty embarrassing. Successful businessman.  Congressman.  Yeah, better not let him meet you,” Kurt went along with the game.  “I don't know.  I hadn't been seeing Adam very long when Mr. Schuester got married, and the only people there he would've known were me and the Berrys and Santana.  I didn't want to bore him with a midwestern wedding with strangers.”

“And since then?  Why didn't he come home with you this week?”

“Well …. I …  I decided to come home very last-minute … Blaine ended up spending most the summer with Cooper, but he's back here this week visiting friends and packing up his house.  I thought itd be a good time for me to visit Lima, help him out, and travel back to New York together.  It's been a long time since I saw him.”

Burt raised an eyebrow, and Kurt hastily added, as an afterthought, “And Rachel.  She's here too, working on the house with Blaine. I haven't seen her all summer either … she was in out-of-town rehearsals for most of it.  Thought we'd have a McKinley reunion, see the old New Directions gang.  So Adam would've been a fifth wheel."  He gnawed on a biscotti for a moment and then thought to add, "He has a job in New York anyway.  He's in a revival of Oliver! off Broadway, so he's pretty busy.”

His dad looked impressed.  “That's a big deal!  I saw that at the community theater a few months ago with Carole. What's he playing?  Bill Sikes?  Fagin?”

“He's … playing a “Londoner”.  It's a chorus part.  But he's really good in it.  And he's the understudy for the undertaker, Mr. Sowerberry.  So far, the other guys been there every performance, and Adam hasn't had to fill in, but you never know when he might have to.”

“Well, that's great,” Burt said heartily.  “Good for Adam.  You having any luck with auditions?”

Kurt hesitated, stirring some sugar into his coffee.  “I haven't really gone on any. I've been doing a lot at Vogue.com.  Isabelle said if I worked hard this summer for her, she'd put in a word for me to get my own column.  So I've been burning the midnight oil for her and … well …”. He twisted his lower lip and looked at Burt, debating in his mind if he should spill the news.

Burt looked curiously back at Kurt, prompting Kurt to set his cup down and plow ahead.  “I was going to surprise you by sending you my first by-line … but Isabelle came through.  My first column's appearing online in two weeks.  ‘Kurtain Kall' - with K's like my name - “by Kurt Hummel”.  It'll be a hip, happening commentary on young celebrity fashion - so I'll be going to all the New York premieres and openings, and reporting on them.  And once a month, I'll get to do features on up-and-coming new stars under age twenty-five with great fashion sense.  I'll be a mover-and-shaker, hopefully.  My first featured celebrity will be Rachel, of course, and it'll have a high-fashion photo shoot to go with it as a tie-in to Funny Girl when it finally opens on Broadway.  The show is finally starting its out-of-town run in a couple months. And the next month, I'm doing one on Chloe Moretz.”

Burts face had grown prouder and more pleased throughout Kurts  news and the explanation of what it meant.  “Kurt!  That's amazing!  I have no idea who that Kelly Morris is, but the whole thing is - wow.  I knew you'd take New York by storm,” Burt said.  “I can't believe you were going to wait to tell me, kiddo!” He clapped a hand in Kurts shoulder and beamed at him.

“I thought you'd get a kick out of seeing it ‘in print' first.  But this is better,” Kurt said, enjoying the pride and respect on his dad's face.  "Ill finish my degree of course, I love NYADA.  But Vogue is looking like a career for me."

"Must be nice having so many talents you can choose from.  I wouldnt know... for me it was just car repair."

"And politics. And business. And giving great advice," Kurt joshed. "Even when I dont want to hear it."

"Yeah. Speakin of that.  Blaine and you,” Burt said slowly, while sneaking another helping of soufflé onto his plate.  “What's that about?”

Kurt dropped his jaw. “What - what do you mean?”

“Whenever we talk on the phone, you mention Blaine more times per conversation than you've mentioned Adam to me … ever.”

“I live with Blaine.  I … I see him more.  And … I'm not going to talk to my dad about … about my love life, so that's why I don't talk as much about Adam.” He pushed his plate away.

“Just seems weird to me. Youre always, ‘Blaine says this' or ‘Blaine did that'," Burt said, waving his fork to and fro.  He took a swig of coffee.  "Meanwhile I hardly ever hear you mention Adam.  In fact you don't even say his name half the time when you do talk about him.  It's just ‘the guy I'm seeing in New York'. I didnt even know he got that Londoner part."

Kurt was getting pretty annoyed by his dads homespun insightfulness. “Adam is the guy I'm seeing.  Blaine is just a roommate and a friend.  Not sure what you're driving at.”

“Have it your way.  But the way you two look at each other says different.  Maybe if I meet Adam some day, I'll see if he looks at you the way that Blaine kid does.”

Kurt paled. As much as he was jealous of the boys Blaine dated, and kept wishing Blaine could be his or no one elses, he didnt want to hear that. Not really. He wanted Blaine to be happy, not lovesick and suffering like... like Kurt was. Nothing could happen between them, and Blaine deserved a boyfriend his own age.

"Blaine … he had a crush on me at one point." Keeping his voice steady, he recited as if saying the words made them true, “But not anymore.  He sees other guys ... he's fine.  He's over it.”

Burt shook his head matter-of-factly. "I ran into him at the post office yesterday. The way he looked when he asked about you tells me otherwise. Hes still got it bad as ever."

Happiness at hearing someone say Blaine still liked him battled with guilt in Kurts heart.  “You think so?” he asked, trying to be nonchalant.

“It's almost as obvious as the way you look when you talk about him.  But then again, I know you a lot better than I know Blaine.  What I don't get is why you two don't just admit how you feel about each other.”

Kurt picked up the breakfast dishes and took them to the sink.  He started washing them.

"Hello? Kurt? I asked you whats the big deal about telling Blaine you like him?"

Kurt answered without looking at his father.  “I don't pursue a relationship with Blaine because hes four years younger than me.  He's in high school.  He's my best friend's kid brother.  He's my roommate. Are those enough reasons for you?”  He shot a glare at Burt over his shoulder.

Burt grunted and put up his hands in surrender.  “Fine.  But you admit you'd be interested if he was, say, two whole big ol years older, and not Rachel's brother.”

Kurt dropped the dish towel and snapped off the faucet. “Okay, Dear Abby, yes.  I'd be all over that like white on rice, is that what you want to hear?  But it doesn't matter. He is 16 and he is Rachel's baby brother.  Shes so fragile and gets so crazed where Blaines concerned, I - - I can't.  I can't, and it's hard enough without having to defend it to you, Dad.  I can't go there with Blaine, it'd be wrong and hurt too many people I care about.  So please.  Drop it.”

He turned away and resumed washing the dishes.

“All right, kiddo.  If that'll really make you happy.”  Burt got up and handed Kurt his plate, patting him on the arm.  He returned to the counter and his coffee, turning up the game on the radio.  

Keeping his eyes trained out the kitchen window, Kurt finished washing the dishes and fought back tears of frustration and longing for something he wasn't allowed to want.