Cirque de Joie- Chapter VIII.
Chapter VIII.
Mercedes observed Blaine as they patiently sat in chairs outside one of the many circus tents, waiting on Kurt to arrive at their established meeting point. Well, Mercedes waited patiently. Blaine’s left knee was bouncing rapidly up and down and his arms were crossed, pressed firmly against his chest. Mercedes honestly didn’t know why Blaine was in such a rush.
She began to play with one of her sparkling gold earrings, silently congratulating herself on assembling such a boss outfit. Purple was the primary color- her shoes were purple, her pants were purple, even her headband was purple. Over a purple tank top she had a loose-fitting white shirt that hung off one shoulder. Gold chains dangled from her neck and her ears were donned with gold hoops. She looked quite diva-licious if she had to say so herself. She averted her eyes to Blaine and analyzed his choice of wardrobe for the day.
He wore a simple pair of dark-wash jeans, tight fitting, and a mustard yellow graphic tee that donned the Beatles on the front. On his feet was a pair of worn red converse. He was obviously dressed for comfort today. But he did do his hair. Instead of the normal messy mane of black curls he had gelled them back out of his face. Mercedes thought he looked quite dashing with his hair like that, but he seldom had the time or the reason to do anything with his unruly mop of raven curls.
Blaine continued to bounce his knee. He wasn’t quite sure why he was so impatient today. It’s not like they had a real plan to stick to. Maybe he was just eager to get out of the Cirque for a few hours and feel like a normal teenager. He looked down at the watch on his wrist. It was 10:28. Mercedes, Kurt and him had decided to meet at 10:30 and drive into town together. Blaine would be the one driving since he knew exactly how to get into town- having to go and hang up fliers a few days prior to the circus opening.
10:29. Blaine bit his lip in anticipation. He hoped that Kurt wasn’t one of those “fashionably late” people. Yes, he was fashionable, but to be late was to be sloppy. And that was very unattractive.
As if he had heard Blaine’s thought, Blaine looked up to see Kurt walking towards the duo. The first thing was the bright electric blue leather jacket he wore tight around his torso. The second thing he noticed were the electric blue converse that stretched all the way up to Kurt’s knees to match.
“Whoa,” he said, entranced by how high the shoes went up Kurt’s legs. Kurt gave an inquisitive look before looking down, as if noticing his shoes for the first time.
“Heh, yeah,” he said, rotating his right leg to give Blaine a better look. Mercedes was also ogling at the beasts, staring at the crossing laces, which were a lovely shade of dark purple. “They actually zip up in the back. Imagine trying to lace them!” He gave a nervous laugh.
“Yeah,” Blaine said, almost distantly, still trying to figure out why they’d make a pair of such kick-ass converse. Kurt must be a god.
“Well,” Mercedes said, breaking Blaine out of his knee-high converse induced trance. “We better get going. Blaine?” She cleared her throat. Blaine snapped his head up and looked at Mercedes, grinning sheepishly.
“Uh, right,” he said, slapping his hands on his knees. “We’re taking the truck so uh, just follow me.” And with that he stood up and began to walk in the direction of the vehicles. Kurt looked to Mercedes with an arched eyebrow. Mercedes just shook her head and laughed, trailing behind Blaine. Kurt paused and looked down to his shoes again, from the zipper in the back to the laces, before shrugging and setting off to join his two friends.
~*~
“So, what’s on the agenda?” Blaine asked as they whizzed down the road. Maroon 5 could be heard in the background as he, Mercedes, and Kurt rode in the much too small red truck. Kurt was in the middle, hands clasped in his lap as he stared silently ahead of him. Mercedes was absently staring out the window, twirling a lock of hair in her fingers.
“How about lunch?” Mercedes said as she leaned over Kurt to switch the station. The song immediately switched from “Misery” to “Forget You” by Cee Lo. Kurt bobbed his head to the beat. “I know it’s early but I’m starving!” Blaine nodded in agreement.
“Me too,” he said, starting to think of all the restaurants he had seen while in town. There was this nice little diner he’d stopped in to ask the owner if he could put up an advertisement for the Cirque in his window. The old man was more than happy to comply. “I know this great little diner. Are you up for brunch Kurt?” Kurt seemed to consider it for a moment before nodding his head.
“Sure, I could go for coffee anyway,” he said, moving to change the radio station once again. He went through a few stations: pop, country, gospel, talk radio, before setting it on a song that made Blaine suppress a laugh of amusement.
“Really?” he asked, listening to the belting voice of Barbara Streisand drift from the speakers. Kurt furrowed his brow.
“What?” he asked defensively. “How can you not appreciate the superb vocals of Barbara?” Mercedes laughed as Blaine’s eyebrows shot up to his hairline.
“It’s not that!” he said, glancing from the road to Kurt. “I was just surprised by the song selection is all. Not many people I know would switch from pop to Broadway.” Kurt crossed his arms.
“Well welcome to my world Anderson,” he said, staring straight ahead. Blaine chuckled and turned the radio up, Barbara now filling the three teens’ ears with a haunting melody. Kurt wore a look of satisfaction. Blaine periodically glanced at the other boy’s reflection in the rearview mirror, making sure he hadn’t offended the boy and admiring the way Kurt’s eyes sparkled when he got his way.
As they pulled into town, Blaine was shocked to see just how crowded the place was. Apparently he’d missed the memo that they were having some sort of festival this weekend. The entire stretch of road between the main part of town was blocked off and covered in various booths displaying crafts and beautiful artworks. Blaine pulled into a nearby church parking lot, unbuckling his seatbelt after pulling the key from the ignition.
“What’s going on here?” Mercedes asked as she slid out of her seat. Kurt followed her lead, straightening his jacket after jumping out of the truck. Blaine made sure to lock the door before they set off down the street, weaving through patrons of all ages.
“It must be some sort of festival,” Blaine speculated, the smell of funnel cake and hot dogs clouding his senses. “What a lucky day to visit!”
“I agree,” Kurt said, eyeing a rack of multicolored scarves. “Perhaps we’ll leave with a few souvenirs.”
“But before that,” Blaine said, holding up a finger. “We get food.” Kurt and Mercedes nodded and gestured for Blaine to lead the way. Blaine held a hand out for each of them. Mercedes interlocked her fingers with his. Kurt stared at Blaine’s other hand apprehensively.
“It’s so we won’t get lost,” Blaine assured him. The taller boy sighed and placed his pale hand in Blaine’s, feeling the rough, calloused fingers rub against his soft skin. Blaine tightened his hold on both if his companions hands before leading towards what he hoped was the direction of the small diner.
They passed many a person: giddy children, gluttons with a variety of condiments smears across their faces and clothes, cranky teens who didn’t want to be there, and people of all ages with outlandish hats made of balloons positioned atop their heads. The three were accustomed to sites such as these of course, they graced their vision all the time back at the Cirque. But they were here to get away from the circus, not to be reminded of it. Blaine’s eyes scanned each shop they passed, looking for the familiar door that read “The Mountaineer Diner” in old fashioned scrawl across the glass doors.
Kurt looked around, surveying all of the little booths donned in bright colors of green, pink, orange, and yellow. He saw everything from pottery and jewelry to photography and toys. It seemed that the citizens of this town occupied the booths to sell their trades. He looked to Mercedes. She seemed to be having a great time looking at all the little knick-knacks displayed in the shop windows and laughing at the little girls and boys who peered inside them, noses pressed hard against the window panes.
“Aha!” Blaine exclaimed when he found the diner. Kurt jumped at the sudden noise. “Here we are!” He let go of Kurt’s and Mercedes hands and opened the door. Kurt sighed at the loss of warmth that radiated from Blaine’s palm, not even noticing the heat until it was gone. He trailed in behind Mercedes and thanked Blaine for holding the door for them.
The diner was very charming, set up almost like an old soda fountain with black and white checkered floors and red vinyl seats in front of a counter and at booths stationed by the large glass windows. Mercedes claimed the booth closest to them, sliding in and immediately grabbing a menu. Kurt slid in beside her, leaving Blaine to sit across from them. Blaine grabbed two other menus and handed one to Kurt.
“Thanks,” Kurt said, immediately flipping to the beverages. He eyed a few yummy sounding coffee concoctions, finally deciding that he didn’t really want coffee anymore. He averted his attention to the milkshakes and smoothies, settling on a lovely sounding mixture of raspberry and chocolate swirl.
“What are you feelin’ like Blaine?” Mercedes asked without looking away from her menu. She herself was eyeing french toast smothered in strawberries and powdered sugar- the breakfast of champions.
“Hmm,” he mused. “I think I’m going to order some fries and a chocolate shake. What about you Kurt?”
“I think I’ll be enjoying a raspberry chocolate swirl milkshake today,” Kurt said, gesturing towards a picture of the tantalizing beverage in the menu. It made Blaine’s mouth water.
“Maybe I’ll get one of those too,” Blaine said. “It looks yummy!” Kurt laughed as a waitress approached the table. She was thin and blonde, her gold curls framing her brilliant green eyes that were lined in dark eyeliner. Her waitress dress uniform was powder blue, contrasting with her cherry red lips. She looked like a pin up girl straight out of the 50’s.
“Good morning! My name is Carly,” she said cheerily. “What can I get for you all today?” Mercedes moved to speak first.
“I think I’d like the strawberry french toast,” she said politely. “and a glass of milk please.” Carly quickly scrawled Mercedes’s order on her note pad and looked to Blaine.
“And you dear?” she asked, eyeing Blaine up and down. Kurt squirmed in his seat, uncomfortable with the way their waitress was undressing Blaine with her eyes. Had she no decency? But Blaine seemed to be unfazed by the visual rape.
“Yes, I’d like two large raspberry swirl milkshakes, one for my friend here,” he gestured to Kurt, who opened his mouth in protest. “and an order of french fries please.” Carly wrote down the order on her pad before assuring them that their order would be ready soon before winking at Blaine and strutting away, the movement in her hips exaggerated in a way no decent woman would do in public.
“What’d you do that for?” Kurt asked as soon as the hooker-waitress was gone. Blaine looked at him with innocent hazel eyes.
“Do what?” he asked. Kurt sighed.
“I can pay for my own food you know,” he said, holding up his wallet. “I’m not a charity case. I do have money.” Blaine laughed.
“I just wanted to be nice,” he said, lowering Kurt’s hand holding the wallet with his own. “Besides, think of it as a welcome to the Cirque.” Kurt threw his head back in defeat, shoving his wallet back into his pocket.
“Whatever,” he said, crossing his arms in a “bitch, please” fashion.
“Get used to Blaine treating you to food,” Mercedes said. “When I came to the Cirque, he wouldn’t stop buying me cotton candy. It’s his way of showing affection.” Kurt rolled his eyes as Blaine nodded.
“It’s true,” Blaine said with a grin, rubbing the back of his neck.
“Well next time you feel the urge to buy me something,” Kurt started, “Make it a scarf or other accessory. I don’t want to get fat.” Mercedes and Blaine chuckled. “Now, if you’ll excuse me-“
Kurt rose from his seat with the intention of heading towards the restrooms. As he walked away he could hear Mercedes and Blaine fall into comfortable conversation. He was so immersed in his thoughts that he didn’t notice the two large boys in red letterman jackets follow him into the men’s restroom.
“Lookie what we’ve got here Steven,” said one of the boys as soon as the door shut behind them with a ‘click’. Kurt froze, every muscle seizing in his body. The boy was tall and broad, with brown hair and cruel eyes. His heart immediately began to beat hard and fast against his chest. Kurt could feel his throat begin to close up in panic. He turned around to face his agressors. “It’s a fairy!” The other boy, Steven, laughed. He was thick and stupid-looking, with short blond hair above thick, hulking eyebrows.
“Why are you wearing those gay clothes?” Steven asked, approaching Kurt. “You some sort of fag?” He shoved Kurt’s shoulder with his hand. Kurt gritted his teeth as he stepped farther back. He could hear the blood rushing in his ears and creeping into his cheeks, staining them bright red with rage.
“So what if I am?” he asked, glaring with sharp eyes. “What are you going to do about it?” Steven and the other boy looked at each other. The other boy laughed and balled his hand into a fist.
“We don’t like fags,” he said, shoving his fist in Kurt’s face, inches away from the tip of his nose. Kurt swallowed but didn’t flinch. “and we’ll teach you exactly what we do about them.” Steven came to the boy’s other side, effectively trapping Kurt like an animal against the bathroom wall. Kurt balled his fists to his sides.
“I’m so scared,” he said sarcastically. “What can two brainless neanderthals do to me anyway, punch me? That won’t turn me straight, just like you sitting in a classroom probably won’t make you smart!” Steven growled.
“Why you-“ he started. He lunged at Kurt, who sidestepped just in time. Steven collided with the mirror that was hung on the wall, almost causing it to fall from its place. The other boy tried to grab Kurt’s arm, but the smaller boy was too fast and dodged the boy’s hand. Kurt knocked over a vase as he tried to move around the two boys. It crashed, loud and echoing in the small bathroom. He felt one of the neanderthals grab at his collar, only to lose hold. He ripped the heavy door open and sprinted out into the restaurant. No one could see him, on account of the restrooms being in a hallway near the back of the diner. He looked around desperately for a place to hide, eyes falling on a janitor’s closet to his right that was halfway opened. Kurt stepped inside and closed the door, trying to slow his uneasy breathing. Suddenly he heard the bathroom door open. He held his breath.
“Where is that little faggot?” he heard the enraged voice of Stephen say. The other boy sighed.
“Whatever man, let’s get outta here,” he said. He heard their heavy footsteps fade away. Kurt slowly opened the door and scanned the area. It was free of the Twin Terrors. He slipped back into the bathroom, his hands shaky as he opened the door of the last stall. He sat down on the toilet and placed his head in his hands, letting out a shaky breath.
“I thought I could avoid this,” he said to himself, trying to find the courage to walk back out to Blaine and Mercedes, who were no doubt wondering where he was. He blinked back the tears that started to burn behind his eyelids.
“Damn.”