Falling Stars and Setting Suns

            Kurt felt sick, and not an “I've had too much to drink” sick, or an “I don't think that seafood was fresh” sick - Sick sick, like “what am I doing in a hotel room alone with this man?” sick.  Thinking back; it had something to do with what Sam had said to him, though, now when his ears were ringing like church bells he wonders whether he simply misheard.  Definition: wishful thinking?

Mr. Schue's wedding had been a disaster from start to finish – for one thing the bride had “done a runner” as Finn had so delicately put it, and for another there were some seriously questionable design choices regarding both the decorations and a couple of the guests' dress choices.  At least there were baby cupcakes – he needed something sweet to try to take away the bitter taste in his mouth. 

If he had not met Brittany he would have had difficulty believing that someone with as little tact could actually exist – with Sam and Brittany together it was like being trapped in the Legally Blonde musical.  Sidebar – no one was surprised that the two blondes were now a couple.  Frankly Kurt was kind of fascinated by their dynamic – what could two such, special, individuals discuss behind closed doors?  He still cannot recall how the subject of his ex-boyfriend even came up, but he had found himself listening to Sam talking about coffee, then suddenly he was hearing about Blaine's older, not-in-college, works-for-his-father in New York boyfriend and Kurt had felt as if he had fallen from a great height.  His ears were full of static and Sam had carried on, seemingly oblivious to the fact that Kurt had stopped breathing.  Kurt had been saved suddenly when Sam had been dragged onto the dance floor by Brittany with no more than a ‘Later, dude!'

Maybe that is why he had agreed to go upstairs with Adam to the hotel room the blue-eyed Brit had booked for them.  So far, Kurt had avoided staying with Adam using the excuse that he should spend some time with his father while he was back in Ohio – especially as his father had prostate cancer and was undergoing treatment.  Kurt finds it concerning that it did not occur to him to ask his father whether Adam could stay with him – it just didn't. 

            ‘Are you OK, Kurt?'

Adam's voice is soft and the concern in his blue eyes makes something within Kurt twist.  He manages to nod but is met with a raised eyebrow.

            ‘We don't have to do anything if you don't feel ready.'

For some reason he cannot place, Kurt finds that statement hilarious but he manages to reduce his external reaction to a nervous giggle and raises a hand to cover his mouth.  It's so painful – the tenderness with which Adam gently takes Kurt's hand down.

            ‘You don't have to hide from me, Kurt.  But if this is going to work I think you need to be honest with me.'

            ‘I'm fine, Adam.  I'm here aren't I?'

            ‘Are you?'

            ‘What is that even supposed to mean?'

            ‘It's just…'  Adam keeps hold of Kurt's hand and makes to move closer to him but Kurt steps back before he has even processed Adam's insinuated intention.  ‘Exactly this!  I feel like you're not really here with me.  You spent the first half of the day like a meerkat in the church.  Who were you looking for?  Your ex?'

            ‘I wasn't looking for anybody.'

            ‘Look, Kurt.  I really, really like you.  And I think…I think that we could have something really great.  But it takes two, Kurt.  And right now – I'm not sure you're in this with me.'

            ‘I'm here with you.  I invited you.  Isn't that enough?'

            ‘I deserve better, Kurt.'

            ‘Then go get better!'  The volume of his voice shocks him slightly and he takes another step backwards, away from Adam, away from this conversation.  He needs to think – he needs out of this.  He needs to understand why it still hurts.

            He cheated on me – I'm supposed to be moving on.  There is a gorgeous man in a hotel room with me, who wants me, and I don't want him.  I want him but he's not here and he's moved on and I shouldn't want him because he hurt me so badly…

A hand on his shoulder breaks his internal derailment.

            ‘You're not over him.'

            ‘I want to be!  I'm trying to be.'  It feels like falling.

-+-

            Snuggled into the supple leather of the chair in the library he lets himself be lost for a while.  Douglas had left for work with a kiss and a promise of a romantic dinner, leaving the lingering spice of aftershave and cinnamon on Blaine's clothes.  Douglas had suggested that he check-out of the hotel, so Blaine had braced the bitter February chill to retrieve his bag and settle his bill then had made his way back to the comfort of the penthouse and settled back into the guestroom.  The fluttering feeling that had been present since that first kiss had intensified as he had used the key Douglas had given him and now his belly felt full of snakes; writhing.  He clutched the mug in his hand tighter and tried to focus on the text in front of him, but the words kept blurring into each other as his mind meandered across the page.  Eventually he gave up and let himself try to work through his thoughts and feelings.  Compare and contrast.  An exercise.

            Why does this time feel different?  I've had a boyfriend before.  It was serious and I loved love loved him.  But he doesn't love me.  So I moved on.  To someone who loves me for who I am – broken, damaged, pathetic. 

Are we a couple now?  He said we needed to talk but he kissed me… and it felt… good.  It felt good.  Not like kissing Kurt.  Not like kissing Eli.  Not like kissing Kurt.

Maybe he kissed me out of pity.  No, he's better than that.

Better than you.

He's a grown man!  He's a successful businessman.  What could I offer him really?  I'm just a boy who plays at love.

But he sees me.  He does not treat me like a child.  He treats me like an equal.  He makes me feel sexy and wanted and safe.  He makes me feel.  I think I could love him.  I think I could take away his loneliness.  I want to make him happy – he has been so good to me – I want to give something back.  This is something I can give him.

You make it sound like a business transaction.

You don't know what you are doing, Blaine.  You're just a boy.  What will stop you repeating the same mistakes over and over?

What if he comes back and doesn't want me? 

What if he does?

-+-

            ‘Roger, I don't know what I'm doing.'

His hands are shaking as he holds the cell phone. 

            ‘Diggsie,' his brother's voice exudes exasperation, ‘I warned you.  I told you to be careful.  You're going to have to let the lad down gently.'

            ‘He's something special, Rog.  He makes me feel and it has been so long since I felt this way.  I tried to keep my distance but he's like the sun and I couldn't stay away.'

            ‘You need to talk to him about this.'

            ‘I know.  I know.'  He runs a hand through his hair in frustration.  ‘You know… In all my other relationships I don't think I ever fell this hard this quickly before.  He makes me want to be a better person.'

            ‘He's a teenager.'

            ‘You don't think I know that?  You don't think I know how bad this will look?'

            ‘Calm down.'

Douglas grits his teeth in response.

            ‘Look, Diggsie, I don't know what to tell you here.  Dad's going to have an aneurism…but if you're happy –‘

            ‘I think I could be.'

            ‘Then try it.'

            ‘You make it sound like a foreign vegetable.'

            ‘You were always the romantic, Diggsie.'

He closes his eyes and swallows.

            ‘What do I do, Rog?'

            ‘I can't tell you who to date but I can be here for you when it all goes to shit.'

            ‘Thanks for the vote of confidence, little brother.'

            ‘Anytime.'

A smile.

            ‘Just a suggestion – make sure you are certain before you go public.  Take it slow for a bit first?  Just be sure, OK?'

            ‘OK.'

-+-

            His fingers itch.  He wants to text Kurt – it had been his first instinct for so long.  But, even if he still had Kurt's number – if he had not lost his phone in that club – he cannot. 

            Kurt has moved on.  You heard Sam – he has a date for Mr. Schue's wedding (which must be happening right now…I hope they got the flowers I sent.  I hope by sending them I was not overstepping).  Kurt.  Kurt has moved on.  Without you.  He's probably very happy.  He deserves to be happy.  It's about time you moved on too.

His fingertips worry the leather binding in his lap – tracing letters across the surface.  Words.  Patterns.  Dreams.

He wishes it were easy.  It has been so easy with Kurt – after their initial fumblings and misunderstandings.              They were all firsts to mark off together.

This, with Douglas, is different.  He knew it would be, academically speaking, of course.  But, in so many ways it is the same – the flutter in his gut when they are due to meet is the same.  The chill of anticipation.  The deep tightening and sigh of arousal.  The sensitivity of touch.  All those physical markers of attraction – these are all the same.  But this time there is a niggle.  Perhaps there is always a niggle after your first relationship?  Maybe it is normal.  Maybe it is there to stop you making the same mistakes again.  Maybe it is there to remind you that you blew your first love.

He briefly considers trying to talk to Sebastian or Hunter – he dismisses Doug immediately for obvious reasons – but he does not think either boy would be useful.  They are not exactly kin to the concept of Romance, and Hunter would probably just high-five him…

He groans in frustration. 

The scrape-jingle of a key in the lock breaks his reverie and he realises that his coffee is long-cold.

-+-

            They do not discuss them until they get back from dinner – both flitter instead around bright topics of distraction like moths.  Neither really has an appetite anyway.

The living room is warm when they settle down on the sofa beside each other.  Each clutching lead crystal, hearts pounding, heads buzzing.

Douglas breaks first.

            ‘I've been thinking…'

Blaine studies his companion and notices the tightness of his jaw as Douglas' sentence trails off, the words hanging in the air like incense.

            ‘So have I.'

            ‘I don't know what this is.  But I do know that I really care about you, Blaine.'

            ‘I care about you too.'

            ‘And I want…I trust you.  I trust you to know how you are feeling, and I trust you to always be honest with me.'  Douglas takes Blaine's free hand in his and their eyes lock – honey and chocolate reflecting each other and blending in swirls of emotion and turmoil.  ‘If we are going to try this…I think…I think we need to take it slowly.'

His throat feels tight and Blaine cannot trust himself to speak so he simply nods his agreement.  Douglas seems to understand.

            ‘I don't know what this is between us – whether it is love or lust or loneliness or some twisted blend of the three, but I do know I don't want to go another day without at least trying to find out what it is, Blaine.  Does that make sense?'

The corners of his eyes crinkle with his smile and Blaine finds himself mirroring the expression.  He swallows in an attempt to rid his throat of the dry-feeling.

            ‘Okay.'

-+-

            The feeling of Douglas' lips on his own was fresh on his mind as he arrived back in Ohio.  They had stayed up for most of the previous night talking – talking about parents and past relationships and careers.  About favourite colours and composers and films.  Then they had retired to their separate beds with a kiss and Blaine had found himself tossing and writhing with frustration – the first downside to being a teenager in a relationship with an older man and agreeing to “take it slowly”. 

He focuses on getting top grades so that he can go to Columbia – he feels as if a veil has been lifted from his mind and he has regained his focus.  If Sebastian notices the difference in Blaine he does not mention it.

Seeing Doug should have been awkward but Blaine knows that “taking it slow” in part means that Douglas wants to be sure before telling his family – so Doug does not know.  Yet.  He has some time to cross that bridge in the future and it is definitely not something he is looking forward to.  He tries to relate to how Doug may respond by imagining if Cooper dated one of his friends – but soon dismisses his idle speculation for what it is and pushes the thought to the side to worry about when he has to.

            He did not expect to bump into Burt – he had steadfastly avoided driving near the Hummel-Hudson household and had skirted around “Hummel Tyres and Lube” keeping it at a distance.  He convinced himself it was because he was embarrassed by what happened over Christmas.  So bumping into Burt during routine grocery shopping was not something he had been prepared for.  Luckily his mother had been a couple of isles over looking for some chestnuts for her chestnut and pancetta soup.

            ‘Blaine, hi.'

            ‘Mr. Hummel.'

            ‘Good to see you, kid.'

            ‘You too.  You look….well.'  He cringes internally because every time he thinks of Mr. Hummel now the man is inextricably linked to “Cancer”.

            ‘You too.  Look, Blaine, I'm sorry about what happened with Kurt -'

            ‘It's fine.  Really.  I don't blame him.'

            ‘I know.  But I feel kind of responsible.'

            ‘Don't.  It was probably for the best.'

Burt gives Blaine a look like he can see right through him and Blaine forces himself not to break eye contact with the man he was certain would be family.

            ‘How's the treatment going?'  Blaine kicks himself for using Burt's disease as a distraction, but it works and he breathes a tiny sigh of relief as the senior Hummel drops the subject.

            ‘Well – it's intensive.  But I'm a fighter.  Carole and Kurt have me on all these homeopathic remedy things - you don't want to know the details, but Hummel men are fighters.'

            ‘That you are.'

The silence stretches between them like filo. 

            ‘Keep me in the loop, okay?'

            ‘You bet I will.'

            ‘Thank you.'

            ‘Take care of yourself, Anderson.'

            ‘You too, sir.'

            ‘How many times do I have to tell you – call me Burt.'

            ‘Take care, Burt.'

Blaine watches the other man walk away and leans heavily on the shopping cart as his knees weaken.  He drags air deep into his lungs and tries to blink the black swarm out of his vision.  He meets up with his mother once he can see again and lets his body act of its own accord until he is back in the safety of his room.  It is then, and only then, that he allows himself to cry.