Chapter 10

                Rachel wasn’t at all surprised when she had to get out of bed at a late hour to answer her door for a red-eyed Kurt. She had him sit down on her couch and she boiled water for tea. Once they were both seated with the warm mugs in their hands, Kurt told her what had happened.

She couldn’t help but feel sorry for him. She knew it must have been rough dealing with this.  It seemed like it was tearing him apart at the seams.  When he was finished speaking, she wrapped him up in her arms, and comforted him the best she could. She tried to tell him it would be okay, and that it didn’t matter, but Kurt was still stuck in denial.

Eventually he wiped away his newly formed tears, and sat up, shaking his head. “No. You know what? I can’t be thinking about this. This is stupid. I need to focus on my audition. Rachel, this is big. This is huge. It’s my chance. And all I’m doing is crying. I’m being petty.”

She patted his back reassuringly before saying, “Okay, Kurt. Have you figured out what you want to sing?”

“Well…I bought an outfit that would work for ‘Not the Boy Next Door,’ but do you think that’s a little…showy? I mean Phantom of The Opera isn’t really flashy and bright. And as much as I adore Hugh Jackman’s performance, it could be little much.”

Rachel thought for a minute. Kurt was right, it might be better to do something a little more low-key, like an actual song from Phantom. On the other hand, if Kurt pulled it off, showy could be a good thing. They probably got a lot of Phantom numbers, so breaking the stereo-type could be a plus.

“I think you should go for it,” she smiled.

Kurt beamed back at her, “Good. I wouldn’t want the outfit to go to waste. I’ve been told I look good in it.”

Luckily, Wes had yet to bring up the incident from earlier.  He and Blaine were having their average dinner. Silent for the most part with an occasional comment about one of their days. All went well until curiosity killed the mood.

“So is he the guy who’s teaching you how to pick up girls?” Wes raised his eyebrows slightly. He knew he was breaching bad territory.

In the middle of drinking, Blaine sputtered, but somehow managed not to choke. “Uh…um, yeah. He is.”

Wes looked back down at his plate, “Oh. Okay, that’s cool.”

The truth was, Blaine really wasn’t sure how he felt about Kurt. Maybe he was just using him as something to keep his mind off of everything else.  But he liked Kurt, there was no denying that. More than he’d ever felt about any guy/person he’d ever met. And in a different way, than he felt about, say, Wes. A very different way.

They sat in silence again for a while. When they were done eating and Wes started heading to his room, he turned back to look at his friend. “Just for the record, Blaine, I…uh, it’s fine with me. You know,” he rubbed the back of his neck trying to figure out the right words, “it’s all the same.”

Blaine smiled, “Thanks, Wes.” They shared a look, and Wes closed the door behind him.

Kurt took the day off of work to practice for his audition. He knew he would end up paying for that, but if he got the part it wouldn’t matter. He sang the song over and over again. He knew he sounded good. He didn’t have any doubt about that, but he still couldn’t shake that awful feeling in the pit of his stomach, the aching nerves of his dream hanging on the line. It would all come down to a few minutes on a stage.

When Blaine went in to work that morning, he was greeted with awful news. His father was cutting his job. 

He was cutting a few people. They were having budget issues, and sacrifices had to be made. To make things worse, though, it wasn’t even his father that told him. It was his father’s secretary.

Blaine really didn’t have other options as far as work. Not that his job with his father paid extraordinarily well, but it paid the bills with some extra on the side. Without a job, he didn’t know what he could do.

He was standing in front of the secretary’s desk, shaking his head, fingers pinching the bridge of his nose. “Where is he?”

Brielle, the secretary, looked around. She found a post-it note sitting on her desk, “He made a run to the Majestic Theater. They were having difficulties with the lights. You know where that is, don’t you sweetheart?” She gave him a sympathetic look.

“Yeah. I do.” He left the office. He knew his dad didn’t care about him, but to throw him out like that? To fire his own son?

Kurt had ten minutes until his audition. He was backstage warming up, attempting to get psyched. He looked in the mirror in the small changing area they had given him to get ready.

“Kurt Hummel. You’ve been waiting for this your entire life. It all comes down to this moment, and you’re ready. I know it.” He told himself, it worked and he felt ready. He looked at the clock, five minutes. He took a few deep breath and made his way to the stage.

He looked out into the auditorium. Majestic Theater was huge. The feeling of the stage always empowered him. He saw the director who spoke up, “You are Kurt Hummel, I’m assuming?”

“Yes. I will be singing ‘Not the Boy Next Door’.”

The director nodded and gave him the go-ahead sign. Kurt turned to the band, and they started playing.

Blaine made his way to Majestic Theater, and let himself in with the keys he still had. It wasn’t difficult to find his dad once inside the auditorium. He was talking in a back room with two men.

“Dad,” he spit out. “Can I have a word with you please?” Blaine gritted through his teeth. It took everything in him not to burst into a fit of rage just at the sight of his father.

Charlie Anderson glanced over at his son, with an annoyed expression. “Blaine. I’m kind of in the middle of something here.” He gestured to the men.

“Yeah. Well this is kind of important.” Blaine knew his father wouldn’t want to make a scene in front of coworkers, so he wouldn’t deny him.

His father put on his most cordial expression and looked back at the men, “Gentlemen, I am very sorry about this interruption, but do you think you could give my son and I a moment?” They gladly obliged and left the room.

His father glared at him, “What do you want?”

Blaine laughed, “I think you know perfectly well what I want,” he narrowed his eyes at his father. “I want my job back.”

Charlie waved a hand at him dismissively, “Oh, please, you can find somewhere else to work. You were worthless to the business anyway.”

“Worthless? You think I was worthless? I did more in that job than you do, Dad.”

“Your work was mediocre. I knew I shouldn’t have hired you in the first place. Your brother would have been much better for the job.”

Blaine scoffed, “Of course he would have. Because Cooper is better at everything, isn’t he? Always has been, always will be.”

His father stopped for a second, eyeing him, before saying calmly, “You can find another job, you did go to college after all. Hopefully those years weren’t a waste as well.”

“Well, in case you haven’t noticed, Dad, it’s not exactly easy to just find a job in New York City. And I can’t afford an apartment up here without one. You’re the one who dragged me up here, after all.”

“Then move back to Westerville with your mother, for all I care.”

Blaine laughed humorlessly again, “You know, it’s amazing how even though you seem not to care at all about me, you still manage to control every aspect of my life. You’re a pathetic excuse for a father.” He stormed out of the room before he could hear his father’s reply. He smiled at the two men standing outside. “You can go in, we’re done talking.” They thanked him and rejoined his father.

Blaine was about to leave the hall when he heard a familiar voice from the stage.

“Yes. I will be singing ‘Not the Boy Next Door’.”

He looked over and saw Kurt standing on the stage in his gold pants and black shirt. He’d completely forgotten about the audition today. The music started playing and Blaine took a seat in the nearest row.

Comin' home used to feel so good

I'm a stranger now in my neighborhood

I've seen the world at a faster pace

And I'm comin' now from a different place

Blaine listened intently. Kurt’s voice was beautiful. The best he’d ever heard, actually. It was high-pitched, but smooth and flowing. He admired Kurt’s song choice, not many people would dare to sing such an upbeat song for a Phantom of The Opera audition. Yet somehow, it didn’t surprise him that Kurt did.

Though I may look the same way to you

Underneath there is somebody new

I am not the boy next door

I don't belong like I did before

Nothin' ever seems like it used to be

You can have your dreams, but you can't have me

I can't go back there anymore

'Cause I am not the boy next door

Blaine watched as he moved across the stage. Blaine watched Kurt get on the piano, and dance. What was he doing on the piano? He was on the floor, he was…he was everywhere. As the song continued, Kurt’s dancing became even more exciting. He was kicking his legs in the air and swiveling his hips. His hips. Those gold pants had not changed since the previous night. They still did the same odd things to Blaine’s mind. Those same confusing things. The things he thought about at night when he was half-in and half-out of sleep, not really controlling his thoughts. He shook his head and watched as Kurt began to close the song, hitting a note amazingly high. Way out of Blaine’s range.

If Blaine were to say he was impressed, it would be the understatement of the century.

The director spoke up from the front row, “Thank you, Mr. Hummel, we will get back to you soon.”

Kurt thanked him and walked off the stage. Blaine hopped out of his chair and intercepted him on his way out.

“Hey, Kurt, that was…amazing.”

Kurt looked over at him. His eyes lit up in astonishment, “Oh, uh, Blaine. I didn’t know you were here.”

“Yeah…I had to talk to my dad,” he frowned before continuing, “But really, that was great.”

“Thanks. I have to go though, see you around.”

Kurt began to walk away, but Blaine stopped him, “Wait, Kurt. Can we…talk for a second?”

Still facing away from him, Kurt rolled his eyes, “There’s nothing to talk about, Blaine.”

Blaine raised his eyebrows, “Really? Because I think there’s a lot to talk about.”

Kurt walked back over the other man, “Okay, look, Blaine, I’m not sure what’s going on. And to be honest, I don’t think you do either. So I say we forget whatever happened, and move on. It was a mistake. A one time thing, and we’re lucky your friend came in. Otherwise, I think we would both regret whatever happened. Okay?”

“But…what if…I don’t want to forget it?”

Kurt closed his eyes, and breathed heavily out. “Blaine, you don’t know what you’re talking about. You’re letting your depression over Santana control your emotions. Now listen to me when I say forget it. We can stop the lessons if that needs to happen.”

Blaine closed his eyes against the tears that were threatening his vision. Why was everything bad happening to him at the same time? Why did it feel like the whole world was working to make his life a living hell? “No, Kurt, that’s fine. We’ll forget it.” He turned and walked the short distance to the door.

When Blaine arrived back at his apartment, Santana was watching TV. He quickly wiped away the tears that had escaped during the walk home and greeted her. He sat down on the opposite end of the couch and attempted to figure out what she was watching. It looked like America’s Next Top Model or something.

“Is something wrong, Blaine?” She muted the television and turned to him.

“No…Just everything.”

“Girl troubles?”

He laughed, “I guess you could say that. That’s part of it. Why do you care anyways?”

“Blaine, you’re helping me out, why can’t I return the favor?” She scooted a little closer to him on the couch, close enough to lay a hand on his thigh.

“What do you want, Santana?”

“Only to help, babe,” she breathed into his neck. “It’s okay to accept help, you know, Blaine.”

Blaine turned his head to look at her. Her brown eyes were staring intently into his, baring into his. She leaned forward, just a bit, brushing her lips over his. He let her. Soon their lips were mashed together, and Santana was pushing him down into the couch. Wasn’t this what he wanted? Blaine had wanted Santana back. So why did it feel so wrong?

Santana was hovering over him horizontally on the couch when she broke their lips apart, hands on his shirt.  “Wes came by earlier, he told me to tell you he wouldn’t be back until tomorrow. Something about an overnight work project.” She attacked his lips again.

He pulled away slightly, “I-I, okay. So…does that mean…?” He couldn’t push away the feeling that he was…cheating? No, that wasn’t the right word at all. What did it matter anyways? It had been made perfectly clear to him what Kurt thought. And he obviously didn’t reciprocate any feelings. Why shouldn’t Blaine take advantage of this?

“Yes, babe, that’s exactly what it means,” she smiled before going for the buttons on his shirt.