April 11, 2012, 2:50 p.m.
Remember remember the fifth of November: Chapter six
M - Words: 2,931 - Last Updated: Apr 11, 2012 Story: Complete - Chapters: 15/15 - Created: Nov 06, 2011 - Updated: Apr 11, 2012 915 0 0 0 1
The one thing he had not grown accustomed to, however, was the fluttering sensation in his stomach, the way it swooped when Blaine gave him one of those slightly crooked smiles and the way it tingled whenever Blaine touched his skin. Light touches of fingertips sent his head spinning, which was becoming a problem, because Blaine did that quite a lot. He would grab Kurt’s hand clutching his wallet and tell him not to worry about it because he was paying, or he would squeeze his arm in concern when Kurt told him about his father’s heart attack and Kurt felt himself melting a little every time. All in all, judging from how perfect the last couple of coffee dates and, on two occasions, trips to the mall had gone, Kurt felt some horrifically awkward, embarrassing incident was probably long overdue. It had been too easy. Blaine had been too sweet and entirely too handsome for this to continue for long. The universe did not just dump boys like Blaine into Kurt’s lap. It did not work like that.
It came as almost a relief, therefore, when, one Tuesday just before school ended and Kurt could escape to the Lima Bean and Blaine, he turned from his locker to find his way blocked by three large boys. Two of them, he was pretty sure, were on the lacrosse team and sandwiched between them was a somewhat subdued-looking Karofsky. Kurt was so intrigued by Karofsky’s expression; he looked like he would rather be anywhere else, that he did not notice the cups until it was too late. He had one fleeting image of two very similar sneers and then everything was green, ice cold and his eyes were stinging. He managed to scoop the worst of it out of his eyes to see three retreating backs, Karofsky still looking cowed and small, somehow, even though he was by no means the weakling in the group. Then they were swallowed up by the crowd and Kurt sighed, dug through his bag to find his spare set of clothes and set off towards the nearest bathroom to clean up.
He rushed, but was still almost twenty minutes late when he arrived at the Lima Bean. When he had texted Blaine that he would be late, apologising and asking if he wanted to do coffee some other day, Blaine had told him not to worry about it, that he did not mind waiting a bit and that there was something he wanted to ask him anyway. Kurt tried not to speculate about that, he really did, but he had rushed his emergency skincare routine so as not to keep Blaine waiting longer than necessary and the drive to the coffee shop had never seemed longer. When he finally entered the coffee shop, he was so lost in thought that he did not immediately spot Blaine’s friendly wave from one of the small tables in the corner. In fact, it took Blaine’s hand on his arm to startle him out of his reverie and he was led from the queue at the counter like a small child, cheeks blazing all the while. Blaine sat him down on the chair facing his own and pushed a lidded cup towards him.
“I ordered for you. Large nonfat mocha with cinnamon on top, right?”
“Yeah. Wow. How did you even remember?”
Blaine just grinned and winked. Kurt took a sip and immediately had to fight back a grimace. Blaine must have ordered it before he got Kurt’s text because the coffee was tepid, almost cold, and the empty coffee cup besides Blaine’s full one indicated that Blaine was probably on his second cup.
Kurt looked up at Blaine who looked so pleased with himself and his remark about the coffee died in his throat. There was a small silence and Kurt, trying to avoid having to drink any more coffee, cast his mind back to what Blaine had said in his text.
“So… You said there was something you wanted to ask me?”
Blaine, however, did not appear to be listening. He was looking, instead, at Kurt’s hair, a curious smile on his face.
“Colin, why is your hair green?”
“Why is my… what?”
“Your hair. It’s green. Right there above your ear.” And he touched Kurt’s left temple lightly, causing yet another tingly sensation to ripple over his skin and rendering Kurt momentarily incapable of coherent speech. Instead, he peered at his slightly distorted reflection in the window and saw, quite clearly what Blaine was talking about. There, just above his left temple was a brightly coloured tuft of light green hair. There was another one almost at the back and a third one behind his right ear. He clapped his hands to his hair.
“The slushie! Oh, I can’t believe I missed that! How embarrassing! I look like a clown!”
“Colin, relax. It’s not that bad, honestly. I actually thought you were making a fashion statement at first. I think it looks cute. Wood nymph chic, you know?”
“Cute? You think it looks cute?” Kurt stared at him, eyebrows raised.
Blaine cleared his throat and gave a little shrug.
“Yeah. Not everybody can pull it off, but most things look cute on you, I mean…” he broke off and took a big gulp of coffee, his eyes glued to the cup.
Kurt’s stomach squirmed pleasantly.
“Well, wood nymph chic or not, I’d really like to wash my hair now. I can practically feel the syrup seeping into my skin. Do you know where the bathroom is?”
Blaine finally looked up again, apparently no longer fascinated by his coffee cup.
“Oh, you don’t want to do it in the bathroom here! Listen, come home with me and you can use our bathroom. Take a proper shower, you know?”
Kurt stared at him, not quite sure how to respond. He did not generally like to use other people’s bathrooms, let alone for showering, but this was Blaine, and somehow these reservations did not seem to apply when it came to him. The thought of Blaine inviting him home with him certainly was appealing, but he just as he opened his mouth to accept, he remembered. Blaine’s house. Blaine’s house with Blaine’s father. Blaine’s father, who…
Blaine seemed to sense his reluctance.
“It wouldn’t be a problem at all! My parents aren’t home, but even if they were, they wouldn’t mind in the slightest.”
That did it. Kurt nodded and Blaine looked relieved, like he had somehow done something right.
Blaine’s house was big. Kurt knew from their conversations over coffee that Blaine went to private school, but somehow he had never really managed to translate that into Blaine’s family being wealthy. He blamed the way Blaine would sometimes wink at him, completely derailing his train of thought. Getting out of the car and looking around, however, he was acutely aware of the air of guarded riches that permeated the neighbourhood with its stately houses. Some of them, Kurt thought, looked like they wanted to be mansions when they grew up. He felt very out of place and jumped when Blaine took his hand to pull him towards the front door. This, in turn, made Blaine look down at their clasped hands and he immediately let go, mumbling something Kurt could not quite hear and leading the way, his ears pinking a little.
Inside, the house was every bit as majestic as outside. Kurt had a fleeting impression of dark woods, soft carpets, gilded mirrors and gleaming chandeliers before Blaine had led him up a staircase, down a corridor and into a room where the afternoon sun lay in large panels on the floor. Blaine closed the door and then just stood for a moment, swinging his arms a little.
“So… This is my room.”
“It’s very nice. Very you.”
Kurt looked around for what felt like ages, feeling very awkward indeed, until Blaine spoke again.
“Oh, right. Towels.” And he rummaged around for a bit and then handed Kurt two soft towels.
“ Bathroom’s down the corridor and then the first door on your left. There’s shampoo and stuff in there, so just use whatever you want. Anything else you need?”
“No, this should be fine. I’m always prepared, remember?” Kurt shook his bag a little and Blaine grinned.
The bathroom left Kurt feeling slightly intimidated and he could not shake off the feeling that he was going to break something delicate and expensive. He felt better after the shower, though, and smiled when he walked in to find Blaine, iPod in his hands and dancing around like a madman. Blaine did a particularly energetic twirl, spotted Kurt by the door and nearly tripped. He tore out the earbuds and threw the iPod on the bed, cheeks flushing.
“Colin! I didn’t see you there. Um. Did you… have a nice shower?”
“Yes, it was lovely, thank you.”
“It’s no problem.”
Silence.
“So… why was your hair green, then?” Blaine sat down on the bed and patted the spot next to him invitingly.
“Oh. I got green apple slushie in it.” Kurt sat, trying not to notice how the tips of Blaine’s fingers just brushed his knee when he moved. He failed spectacularly, of course.
Blaine smirked.
“Oh, so you’re also clumsy when I’m not around? I’m hurt, Colin. I thought you only ever spilt things on me. I thought what we had was special!”
Kurt poked him in the side.
“I didn’t spill it, Waltzing Matilda! I was slushied.”
Blaine’s face darkened.
“Oh, right. I should have guessed. You smelled like green apples.”
“Yeah. They like that one the best. It’s their idea of a terribly clever joke. I almost feel sorry for them.”
Blaine cocked his head.
“Why would they think it’s funny that it’s apple flavoured?”
Kurt tossed his head, trying to keep his still damp hair from flopping down in his eyes.
“Well because it goes with my nickname. They call me Snow White, hence the apple.”
“Oh.”
“Yeah. It’s weird, though…” Kurt trailed off.
“What’s weird?”
“Well, this time they had Karofsky with them – he’s on the football team and they normally leave me alone, well apart from Karofsky, lately – and he looked really uncomfortable. Which is strange because he’s a complete brute and he used to toss me into dumpsters all the time. It’s just odd…”
Blaine looked a little bewildered. Kurt cleared his throat.
“Karofsky’s just been acting weird lately and it sets my teeth on edge. He’s everywhere I look, suddenly. I mean, he even came to my house, once. It’s not… I don’t like it.”
Blaine made a sympathetic noise.
“Anyway, what were you going to say before I started raining misery down on you? There was something you wanted to ask me about, wasn’t there?”
Blaine fiddled with his iPod. Then he seemed to be steeling himself and he looked up.
“Yeah. I just thought… Well, you know the fair, right?”
“Oh, yeah, it’s this weekend, right?”
“Right. Well, I was just wondering… I mean, I go every year and I usually go with my friends from school, but they can’t go this year. Some sort of tournament-competition-thing. So I was wondering if maybe you wanted to come? It’s a lot of fun.”
Kurt’s stomach did a wobbly somersault and he had to wait a moment before he could find his voice. When Kurt did not answer immediately, Blaine continued.
“I actually tried to invite you via facebook, but I couldn’t find you at all, which is a shame, because I had a cunning plan to friend you there, too.”
“Yeah, I um… I don’t have a facebook. I did, once, but the jocks from school found it and wrote all sorts of horrible insults and I just had enough and deleted it.”
Kurt’s ears burned at the lie, but he could not exactly tell Blaine that the reason he had not found any Colin Hudsons in Lima, Ohio was because there were none.
“Oh. Well, that would explain it.”
“Yeah.”
“So? Do you?”
“Do I what?”
“Do you want to come to the fair with me? I promise I’ll buy you one of their caramel apples. They’re legendary.”
“Oh I… Yes I’d love to.”
“Great! It’s going to be so much fun!”
Blaine was alight with enthusiasm and Kurt had to remind himself that they were going as friends, that it was not a date and that he really should not want to jump up and dance around. It did not help very much, though, because his whole body seemed to disagree wholeheartedly. It tingled, swooped, flushed and squirmed and Kurt thought he was lucky Blaine was preoccupied writing down his address so he could pick him up on Friday or he might have noticed something. Blaine looked up, still beaming.
“It’s a plan, then! I’ll pick you up around five and we’ll head off. Don’t eat dinner beforehand. You’ll be eating so much candy you’re going to burst. They have everything! Churros, caramel apples, soft ice with ten kinds of sprinkles, cookies, fruit dipped in chocolate, waffles and pancakes and these really great – “
Kurt interrupted with a little laugh.
“Blaine, I’m sure it’s all wonderful, but I’d like to eat something a little less coronary-inducing, if you don’t mind.”
“Oh, don’t worry. There’ll be food stalls too, so you can eat all the lettuce you like.” He threw him a cheeky wink.
“Blaine!”
But his affronted outburst was met by Blaine’s best puppy eyes and Kurt gave in.
“Fine! But I’m not eating anything that’s been deep fried! I’m too young and far too fabulous to have a heart attack.”
Blaine beamed at him.
The next day, Kurt was in the middle of a French essay when Mercedes called him.
“Mercedes, hi. Tell me everything you know about French transitive verbs! I swear this essay’s going to be the death of me.”
He sighed, sounding put-upon and Mercedes made a soothing noise.
“I’m sorry, Kurt, but you’re better at that stuff than I am and you know it.”
“Well great, because then we’re both doomed. Transitive verbs hate me!”
“Wow. Someone’s a drama queen today.”
“Sorry. There was a motor oil related incident and now my best blue trousers are ruined. You know, the ones with the stripes. So now I’m in mourning. And transitive verbs, Mercedes!”
She giggled.
“Anyway, what’s up? You’re obviously not having your butt kicked by that heinous French assignment or you wouldn’t be so disgustingly cheerful.”
“Well, I was actually calling to see if you wanted to go to the fair this weekend? I know you don’t like carnies, but it’ll be so much fun and you know we’ll totally own the place. Remember the teddy bear we won last year? The thing’s bigger than Rachel!”
“Well… um.”
“Great! Friday?”
“Um… actually, Mercedes, I don’t think I can. This… essay’s going to take all weekend.”
Mercedes huffed in disbelief, the sound crackling a little on the line.
“Kurt, that is absolute bull. Everyone knows you’re the best in that class! Something’s going on. Spill!”
Kurt sighed. At least he could gush with Mercedes, then.
“I can’t because I’m going with Blaine.”
Silence.
“Hello? Mercedes, are you there?”
A loud squeal made him jump and hold the phone out as far away from his ear as he could. He waited till the sound had subsided and tentatively put the phone to his ear.
“… ask you or did you ask him? Is it a date? Oh, who am I kidding, of course it’s a date! Oh Kurt, I’m so happy for you!”
“Calm down, woman! You almost blew my ear drum. I swear, sometimes you’re worse than Rachel. But to answer your question; he asked me and no, it’s not a date.”
“Oh, please! It’s totally a date! It’s such a couple-y thing to do!”
Kurt rolled his eyes in exasperation. He did feel slightly mollified, however, and a part of him – well, all of him, really – hoped that she was right.
“For the last time! It’s not a date! It sounded like he was only asking because his friends were busy and I don’t even think he likes me that way, as much as I would like him to.”
“Oooh, so you do like him!”
“Well… Yes. But this is not cause for celebration! Blaine and I are just friends and that’s it!”
The line grew silent for a while. Then Mercedes spoke again, sounding pensive.
“Have you found out more about his father? I mean, is it him? From the accident?”
“I haven’t, but I’m pretty sure it’s him.”
“Does it feel weird? I mean, he doesn’t even know your real name? Is that why you’re so nervous?”
Kurt sighed. He felt guilty about lying to Blaine, but on the other hand, he craved his company and it felt natural, now, when Blaine called him Colin. Maybe he should not have told Mercedes about that, but at least he had someone to discuss it with.
“I don’t really think about it much, to be honest. When I’m with him I completely forget about it. It’s just nice, you know. And he’s so sweet. I just don’t want to ruin that by dragging in some horrific past. I don’t want to lose him, Mercedes. He’s… a really good friend.”
“Aww Kurt, baby. Someone has a crush.”
“Oh shut up.”
They talked a little while longer with Kurt’s repeated reassurances that he would tell Mercedes all about his not-date with Blaine that weekend.