Remind Me to Forget

Chapter 5

Blaine dutifully copies the notes his calculus teacher puts on the board, shaking his head a little as he does so. The homework, once again, had not been collected for a grade, and the teacher's voice is just a bit too happy; Blaine wonders how the man can be excited when discussing imaginary numbers and derivatives.

Twenty minutes later, Blaine repeatedly looks from his notes to the white board in his hands, making sure he completed the problem correctly. Tina sits behind him, but until his instructor confirms his answer (and has him flip the board) he's not supposed to talk. Sighing as he glances one last time, Blaine bends his left elbow, raising his hand enough to be seen, but not attract everyone's attention with its height. A minute later, Blaine's heart rate slows, nervousness receding after he receives confirmation his answer is correct.

“So,” he stretches as he turns in his seat, seeing Tina doodling in her notebook, “Are you as glad as I am that there's no Glee practice today? I don't know if I could handle practicing that dance routine again.”

“It's nice to have the afternoon off. Did you want to get some coffee or something after school?” Tina sets down her pencil and tilts her head toward where their teacher is helping another classmate. “We could work on homework…”

“Mm. Not today. I'm helping out Mr. Hummel.”

“So you're too tired to do a dance routine but you can work on cars?”

Blaine's shoulders tighten at the sarcasm in Tina's voice. “It's different, Tina.”

It is.

Blaine always feels welcomed at Burt's shop: the same can't be said for the choir room. Glee is wonderful, and he knows he can count on Tina and Sam and Unique and everyone if he really needed them for something (his proposal had shown that); unfortunately, Mr. Schue, despite how he tries, isn't as open and caring as Burt, and the day-to-day drama of Glee can cause occasional tension. Usually after working in the choir room Blaine leaves feeling tired and accomplished, but he can also leave feeling frustrated and nervous.

After working in Burt's shop, Blaine always leaves feeling better than when he entered. Even if he's been under cars or bent over engines or just organizing tools, Burt's shop is a refuge, a comfortable space where he does what he can and is appreciated.

He's not sure how to say that to Tina, however. Instead, Blaine shrugs, silently grateful when he's forced to turn around since their teacher is moving to the white board.

His gratefulness leaves when the class is told to turn the page to start a new unit.

-*-*-*-

Kurt enters the coffee shop and smiles when he sees Elliott waiting at a table by the window. He moves through the line quickly, and moments later he's sliding into a seat as he sets his cup on the table.

“Hey, thanks for meeting me here. I just didn't feel like going back to the diner when I'm not on shift.”

“It's fine, really.” Elliott pushes his book aside. “So, things are going well?”

Kurt remembers his conversation with Blaine – his worry. But Elliott hasn't met Blaine, and Kurt isn't in the habit of sharing his worry about Blaine's home life.

“I'm too tired for things to be ‘well' by any conventional definition.” Kurt shrugs. “I can't really complain though – except about classic theatre. That class is worse than dance with Ms. July.”

“I'll take your word for it.”

“Mm. You should.” Kurt takes a small sip of his mocha, hoping not to burn his tongue. “Anyway, how're you?”

“Glad you invited me for coffee. I think if I'd stayed in my apartment another hour I could classify myself as a hermit.” At Kurt's inquiring look he continues, gesturing between them. “Social interaction; let's just say you're the first person I've talked to in person in a while.”

“I'm not sure if I should feel flattered or sad on your behalf.”

Elliott chuckles and reaches for his coffee. “How about we forget I admitted that fact.”

“Not a chance.” Kurt drinks another mouthful of coffee. “I'll be sure to remember this fact when we disagree about something for the band.”

“Of course you will.” Elliott leans back in his chair and smiles. “Speaking of, are we still practicing tomorrow?”

“Unless Santana and Rachel are refusing to speak to one another again we are – the loft at eight.”

“Will them not speaking be a common thing? I just – I don't want the band to suffer because they can't focus, you know?”

Kurt finishes his coffee and leans forward, resting his forearms on the table. “I wish I could say that short tempers and drama are rare occurrences, but I don't think a week went by in Glee without some kind of argument.” Seeing Elliott's raised brows and worried look Kurt hastens to continue. “We always managed to bring it together for performances though.” Kurt pauses, gathering his thoughts. “I think Santana and Rachel – all of us, really – are too competitive to let any argument get in the way of a performance.”

Elliott nods but continues to look skeptical. “I guess we'll find out the more we practice.”

“Of course.” Kurt's about to continue when his phone buzzes on the table, and he flashes Elliott a slight smile even as he reaches for the phone.

Text message from Blaine:

I think Mr. Schue's sweater vests are getting worse. I know you didn't think it was possible, but it is.

Text message from Blaine:

It offends me, Kurt.

Kurt laughs before facing Elliott and nodding toward his phone. “It's from Blaine. Apparently Mr. Schue – sorry my old Glee director – his fashion sense has gotten worse. And he regularly wears sweater vests and ill-fitting pants.”

Text message from Kurt:

At least you don't have to stare at it during Glee today. ;)

Text message from Blaine:

…that would be bad. I'd be kicked out for being distracted! ;)

Kurt smiles and shakes his head at Blaine's response, and pushes away the worry that comes with Blaine's self-deprecating remark of having to leave Glee. Blaine only puts himself down when he's stressed. He's lost in thought, only looking up from his phone when Elliott begins to speak.

“Sounds like your teacher has an interesting sense of fashion.”

“Mm. He does. That's not necessarily a good thing.”

Elliott laughs. “I'll take your word for it.”

“I'm sure he's in the background in some of our performances on YouTube, should you ever get insanely bored.”

“I'll be sure to remember that the next time I'm hit with a bout of insomnia. But,” Elliott gestures to his own phone – the screen lit – on the table, “I actually have to get going. I have work soon.”

“Oh!” Kurt watches as Elliott gathers his bag and empty cup before standing. “I hope it's not too taxing.”

“Not terribly, no, but I need the check regardless.” Elliott gestures to Kurt's empty cup. “Want me to throw that away for you?”

“No thanks – I'm going to get a refill; I have some time before my last class. Actually,” Kurt stands, “Do you mind waiting here a minute with my bag while I get another mocha?”

Elliott glances at short line before nodding. “Sure.”

“Let me take your cup then, since I'm going to the counter anyway.”

Two minutes later Kurt's walking back to the table empty handed, answering before Elliott even asks the question. “The barista recognized me, said that she'd bring it out to me since things are slow.”

Elliott smirks. “And they say New Yorkers are always rude. Well, enjoy your coffee. I'll see you tomorrow.”

They hug, briefly, and then Kurt sits alone at the table by the window. Unlocking his phone, he sees the texts from Blaine – remembers his worry. He debates for a moment, and the sighs, pulling up his contacts. The call connects and Kurt fiddles with a napkin.

“Hey kid.”

“Hey Dad. I'm not interrupting anything, am I?”

“Wouldn't have answered the phone if I was busy. So…you gonna tell me what's up or are you gonna pretend you don't have a reason for calling.”

“What?” Kurt pauses when the barista brings him his mocha, glad for the moment to gather his thoughts. “What makes you think something's wrong?”

“Kurt.” There's a sigh down the phone line. “Even you don't call to check up on me in the middle of the day, so I'm guessin' you want to talk.”

Kurt feels an unnoticed tension release at his father's words. He does want to talk. And Burt has never dismissed Kurt's worries.

“I – yeah.” Kurt lets out a breath. “I do want to talk, I mean.”

Kurt takes a sip of his coffee and then begins to talk about Blaine.

-*-*-*-

Blaine turns his keys and pulls them out before reaching for his seatbelt, the click of the release sounding unnaturally loud in the car without the engine running. Opening the car door, Blaine steps out, absently patting his pockets to make sure he has his wallet and phone.  His keys jangle as he closes the door – it's a quick stop, just picking up some soda before going to Burt's shop – before he turns to head for the Meijer entrance.

A loud laugh catches his attention, and he turns his head to the right. In the next row of cars, on the side closest to Blaine, he sees two sandy-haired college-aged men, talking over a white four door car and –

A hand grabs his shoulder, spinning him around. A punch pushes him back, further into the arms of his captor. “Sadie Hawkins isn't for gays, Anderson! Hold ‘em Mitch. Cover his mouth, too. Can't have him crying, now.”

A punch. His breath is gone – lost to the hand over his face and the pain in his sides. A kick to his knee and he's sagging, falling to the pavement when the arms holding him fall away. It's cold –

A corn horn startles Blaine from the memory, and he jerks forward. He cuts across the aisle, walked toward where he'd heard the laughter because he has to check. It can't be them, but like the truck in Burt's shop, he has to check.

Breathe in. It was years ago.

Breathe out. There's no reason for any of them to be in Lima.

He nears the opposite side of the aisle, closer now, and he sees –

A sandy haired stranger in an OSU hoodie, getting into a blue Kia Soul.

Blaine pushes his hands deeper in his pockets, shakes his head.

Breathe in. It's not Mitch and Blake.

Breathe out. It's a stranger.

Breathe in. It was years ago.

Breathe out. It wasn't them.

Blaine slowly continues his walk to the entrance.  With each step he tells himself he's not going crazy.

Breathe in. It was a stranger.

Breathe out. It wasn't them.

-*-*-*-

Burt waves as Blaine enters the garage, gesturing with an arm for Blaine to join him by the engine of a Jeep Cherokee.

“Hey Blaine.”

“Hi Mr. Hummel.” Ducking his head to look at the engine, Blaine misses Burt's scrutiny as he takes in the shadows under his eyes.

“So how're things going, Blaine?”

“Oh, they're fine.” Blaine sighs, “Just a little tired.” Blaine is tired; tired enough to see things in garages and parking lots because of recurring nightmares and common cars. Remembering the incident from earlier still weighs on his mind, but he does his best to ignore it. Hes sleep deprived, and a stranger had gotten into a blue Kia. Even if there had been a white car, Ford Tauruses aren't exactly rare. His nightmares simply pushed those memories to the forefront of his mind, leaving his brain to make connections at inconvenient times.

More than anything, Blaine just wants a night of uninterrupted sleep.

“Senior year will do that.” Burt pauses long enough that Blaine turns to face him. “You sleeping okay? Everything okay with your folks bein' home?”

Blaine remains silent for a moment before slightly shrugging a shoulder. “It's different.” When Burt doesn't immediately reply Blaine continues. “Not used to having conversations in our dining room, I guess.” Blaine quirks his lips, “Dad leaves for Beijing on Tuesday, though, and Mom's going to a festival in Virginia with some friends on Monday...”

For a moment, Burt seems shocked into silence. “Blaine, I know your dad travels, and I get that he has to go for work. But your mom's only been home, what, a little over a week? And she's leaving in four days?”

A shadow of a smile crosses Blaine's face before he replies. “Mom likes to travel as much as Dad, I think.”

“Well,” Burt catches Blaine's eyes, “I know you're…used to it, but you're always welcome here and at the house. If you need anything I expect you to be calling or showing up at the door, okay?”

Blaine briefly closes his eyes before opening them and forcing his hands to stay relaxed at his sides. “Thank you, Mr. Hummel.” Blaine's voice steadies after the initial crack on his thanks, and he even manages a small smile, hoping it shows his gratitude. “I – Actually I was hoping I could help out again tomorrow? With the teacher workday I have all day free, and my parents are going to Cincinnati for something, so I could come by earlier than usual.”

“You know I never say no to some extra help, but are you sure you wanna spend your day off working around here?”

Blaine steps back, his hip leaning on the jeep. “I really don't mind; it's something to do.”

“I guess I'll see you tomorrow, then. Don't feel like you have to rush to get here – sleep in, if you can.”

Blaine nods his assent before motioning to the jeep. “So, want me to work on this one?”

Burt is quiet for a moment, considering. “We got a minivan coming in for an oil change. Why don't you go take care of that and then you can come back and help me with this.”

Smiling, Blaine agrees and steps away moments later when the minivan arrives. Unnoticed, Burt's furrowed brows and concerned gaze watch as Blaine crosses the garage.

-*-*-*-

Kurt enters the loft, adjusting the strap of his bag and suppressing a groan at the sounds of Rachel and Santana arguing. He's tired, and had been planning on relaxing for an hour or two before starting on his homework.

“– need to rehearse, Santana! As a rising Broadway star I can't afford to skip a warm up just because a roommate doesn't want to listen. I know it's hard, and your jealousy in understandable, given –”

“You think I'm jealous?” Santana hisses, “I'm not jealous, Berry; I'm wishing I could not be woken up at 5 AM by your scales! It's one show, Rachel – your first! So drop the diva act!” Santana pauses but Kurt doesn't move from where he's leaning against the door, afraid to draw their attention. “This may be surprising news, but the world still does not revolve around you!”

“I'm on Broadway, Santana. This is my big break! So I'm sorry if my success is making you feel uncomfortable –”

Kurt winces at Rachel's words as Santana moves further from the sofa and takes a step closer to Rachel. “You just can't stop can you? No wonder Frankenteen left you while he had the chance!” Rachel freezes at the mention of Finn, and Kurt resolutely pushes away the ache that accompanies the name. He takes a step forward, preparing to intervene, but Santana continues before he has the chance. “You might have the voice for the stage, but give ‘em time. Your personality's going to ruin you.”

Santana turns, and heads for where Kurt still stands by the door. Giving a slight shake of his head Kurt steps away as Santana approaches and stops when she touches his arm. “Look – I'm sorry I mentioned Finn, alright? But I meant what I said; she needs to get over herself.”  Releasing Kurt's arm, Santana opens the door and leaves, her “Going to Dani's” comment barely heard over the closing door.

The loft seems eerily quiet after her departure.

“Rachel…” Kurt walks toward the sofa as his voice trails off, unsure of how to continue.

At the sound of her name, Rachel spins to face him, face hard. “She has to go, Kurt.”

Kurt takes a breath, wondering how he ended up playing mediator in other people's drama. “Rachel, Santana's upset and –”

“You're on her side?!”

Kurt winces at the screech of Rachel's voice, “I'm not on anyone's side.” Seeing the flash of anger-confusion-hurt on Rachel's face, Kurt quickly continues. “I didn't hear everything, Rachel, and I'm not getting in the middle of other people's arguments. Santana snaps when she's angry; it's what she does.” Kurt takes a steadying breath, mentally preparing for his next sentence. “But Rachel, you have to remember that you're not the only one who lives here; I am so happy that you got the part, but that doesn't mean that your dreams are more important than ours – you just got a head start.”

Rachel remains silent for a moment, staring at Kurt. “I just – I can't fail at this, Kurt. I can't.”

“And you won't. You'll be brilliant.” Kurt gives a small smile. “But you can be brilliant and respectful of your roommates.”

At the added comment Rachel's eyes had narrowed, but she stays silent, giving a stilted nod before turning and walking to her room.

Kurt slouches on the sofa, momentarily overcome with exhaustion.

Text message from Kurt:

I want cheesecake, Blaine

Text message from Kurt:

An entire cheesecake – The stress from Rachel and Santana is worse than school…

Text message from Blaine:

So…no different from Glee last year?

Text message from Kurt:

You're still not as funny as you think you are

Text message from Blaine:

I love you! <3

Text message from Blaine:

…Do I need to call certain roommates and tell them to stop harassing my fiancé?

Text message from Kurt:

No. I got home in the middle of it. But they're both upset, so…cheesecake

Text message from Blaine:

Eat all the cheesecake you want – you deserve it! 

Text message from Kurt:

Sadly, man can't live off cheesecake alone. :(

Text message from Blaine:

You can try! :)

Text message from Kurt:

If I ate that much cheesecake I'd need a new wardrobe...and I love my clothes, Blaine.

Text message from Blaine:

I love them, too. You always look amazing. But you'll look amazing regardless of what you eat

Kurt breathes out a laugh, feeling some of the tension drain from his shoulders. He slowly rises to his feet and heads for the kitchen; he does deserve cheesecake.

-*-*-*-

Blaine rinses his dishes before placing them in the dishwasher, their slight clink seeming toecho in the silent house. He'd come home to a note on the kitchen counter, telling him his parents had gone out for dinner. Now, hours later, he's finished civics and calc, and with dinner done all that's left is to read for English.

He's halfway up the stairs when he hears the door open, followed by his parents' murmurs. He briefly pauses and manages two more steps before his mother calls his name. Blaine carefully turns and moments later meets his father in the living room, sitting in one of the recliners.

“Your mom's just putting the leftovers in the fridge.”

Blaine nods. “So dinner was good?”

“Once we got our food, yes. We had to wait a while for our drinks, at first.” Blaine's father leans back in the chair, relaxing. “How was school?”

“It was fine.” Blaine shrugs. “Nothing new.”

“You regretting leaving Dalton?”

“What?!” Blaine takes a step forward in shock. “No – no, I like it at McKinley. It was just a regular day, nothing too exciting.”

“I see.” His father's tone says he doesn't.

Moments later Blaine's mother enters the room, passing by him with a glass of wine in her right hand. “Oh, Blaine. You did hear me…I was hoping you would. I just wanted to remind you that your father and I are going down to Cincinnati tomorrow while you're in school –”

“It's a teacher work day tomorrow.” Blaine keeps his voice quiet. “I'm helping out at Mr. Hummel's shop, though.”

“I'm glad you're taking my advice, Blaine.” His father smiles, “I told you it was good to get your hands dirty. Rebuilding that car together paid off after all.”

“I'm glad you have plans, dear.” Blaine's mother breaks the silence. “Now, we might not be back til Saturday, so you might be on your own for dinner tomorrow.”

“I'm sure I'll manage, Mom.” Seeing his father's eyes narrow, Blaine quickly continues, “But I hope you have fun.”

Blaine's mother takes a sip of wine before smiling. “I'm sure we will.”  

“Well,” Blaine takes a step back, closer to the entrance of the room, “I have some homework to finish…”

“Calculus?” Blaine father leans forward in his chair. “If you do need a tutor Blaine, you can ask your friend Tina to come by any time.”

“It's not calc.” Blaine keeps his tone even, ignores the fact that Tina received an open invitation to the house – something Kurt was never given – and meets his father's eyes. “English. I have to do some reading, study vocab.”

Blaine's parents nod, and he leaves the room after the requisite ‘goodnights' and pats on the back.

In his room, Blaine turns on his music and flops on his bed with his copy of Wuthering Heights and assorted accessories. He manages five pages (complete with highlights and two post-its) before he reaches for his phone.

Text message from Blaine:

I need cheesecake, too :(