Winter in New York- Kurt Hummel- Glee
Winter in New York
Warnings: Angst.
Winter lasts forever in New York. It isn't like a Summer, which is over in a moment if you blink too quickly, all of the plans you intended to make whisked away as the Autumn breeze rolls in. Winter spreads out ahead of you for an eternity, the presence of concrete cold and commanding; everything looks greyer, bleaker. Christmas lights can be strung up but they always look a little bit wrong, tacky and too bright, and you find yourself drunk on a rooftop on Christmas Eve slurring along to Fairytale of New York, and it just feels so false. Snow comes a little bit late, boxing day, and turns to depressing yellow and black sludge all too soon. It isn't like Christmas when you were a child. It's a little like Narnia; always winter, but never really Christmas.
It's January the 21st when Kurt Hummel climbs the steps to his boyfriend's apartment, a cardboard drinks holder in his hands. The lift is still out of order. Kurt can't remember the last time the lift worked. Even inside it's still so cold that his breath billows around him in clouds, and he's wearing two scarves as well as his coat and fingerless gloves. He feels in his pocket for his mobile phone, which he had heard sound a few seconds earlier.
"Door's open," the message reads, "Come in."
Kurt sighes. No kisses. He doesn't get kisses from Blaine anymore. He continues his steady climb, until he reaches the fifth floor. He pushes open Blaine's door as instructed, and steps into the flat. It's tidy but cluttered as usual: a kind of organised madness, everything in a place but not necessarily the place you'd think it would be. Kurt can see a bundle of letters that he knows he wrote, in a waste paper basket. He isn't even sure anymore if that's just a recepticle Blaine is using as an odd storage place. Blaine's laptop sits open on the desk. His thesis draft is visable in a word document on the screen, in front of a heaving iTunes library and a picture of the promotional photographs from Katy Perry's third album as his background. Kurt knows that the background used to be a picture of Blaine and he.
Blaine himself only appear after four or so minutes, towelling his black curls dry, shirtless and in worn denim jeans. Kurt wonders how he isn't freezing. Blaine answers wordlessly, "I am," by reaching for a t-shirt, hooded sweatshirt and leather jacket, pulling each layer on quickly. He still doesn't even look at Kurt.
"Chai latte." Kurt says eventually, holding out the cardboard cup. Blaine looks up.
"Thanks." he says, taking it. Kurt takes a sip and scalds his tongue. He shifts from one foot to the other. Blaine has lived here for two years, and Kurt has spent most of those two years here with him. But he feels so out of place now. "Sit down," Blaine snaps, "Don't fidget." Kurt just does as he's told. That's all he's done lately. As Blaine asks of him.
There's another long silence. Blaine sits at his desk and taps at his computer keyboard, but it's obvious that he's doing nothing.
"It's been a long Winter." Kurt says weakly.
"Yeah. Yeah it has."
"Look, Blaine-"
"No. No, Kurt. I... I need to talk to you." he fixes Kurt with a stare. It isn't like one Kurt's ever received from Blaine before. "This Winter's going to last forever, Kurt. It won't ever end. Spring isn't coming anymore." He doesn't blink. "Do you understand what I'm saying to you?"
"But I love you." Kurt whispers. The words sound like a ghost who can't muster up enough breath to cry out.
"I'm sorry." Blaine replies, and it's the worst.
Kurt can't see Winter ever ending in New York.
Warnings: Angst.
Winter lasts forever in New York. It isn't like a Summer, which is over in a moment if you blink too quickly, all of the plans you intended to make whisked away as the Autumn breeze rolls in. Winter spreads out ahead of you for an eternity, the presence of concrete cold and commanding; everything looks greyer, bleaker. Christmas lights can be strung up but they always look a little bit wrong, tacky and too bright, and you find yourself drunk on a rooftop on Christmas Eve slurring along to Fairytale of New York, and it just feels so false. Snow comes a little bit late, boxing day, and turns to depressing yellow and black sludge all too soon. It isn't like Christmas when you were a child. It's a little like Narnia; always winter, but never really Christmas.
It's January the 21st when Kurt Hummel climbs the steps to his boyfriend's apartment, a cardboard drinks holder in his hands. The lift is still out of order. Kurt can't remember the last time the lift worked. Even inside it's still so cold that his breath billows around him in clouds, and he's wearing two scarves as well as his coat and fingerless gloves. He feels in his pocket for his mobile phone, which he had heard sound a few seconds earlier.
"Door's open," the message reads, "Come in."
Kurt sighes. No kisses. He doesn't get kisses from Blaine anymore. He continues his steady climb, until he reaches the fifth floor. He pushes open Blaine's door as instructed, and steps into the flat. It's tidy but cluttered as usual: a kind of organised madness, everything in a place but not necessarily the place you'd think it would be. Kurt can see a bundle of letters that he knows he wrote, in a waste paper basket. He isn't even sure anymore if that's just a recepticle Blaine is using as an odd storage place. Blaine's laptop sits open on the desk. His thesis draft is visable in a word document on the screen, in front of a heaving iTunes library and a picture of the promotional photographs from Katy Perry's third album as his background. Kurt knows that the background used to be a picture of Blaine and he.
Blaine himself only appear after four or so minutes, towelling his black curls dry, shirtless and in worn denim jeans. Kurt wonders how he isn't freezing. Blaine answers wordlessly, "I am," by reaching for a t-shirt, hooded sweatshirt and leather jacket, pulling each layer on quickly. He still doesn't even look at Kurt.
"Chai latte." Kurt says eventually, holding out the cardboard cup. Blaine looks up.
"Thanks." he says, taking it. Kurt takes a sip and scalds his tongue. He shifts from one foot to the other. Blaine has lived here for two years, and Kurt has spent most of those two years here with him. But he feels so out of place now. "Sit down," Blaine snaps, "Don't fidget." Kurt just does as he's told. That's all he's done lately. As Blaine asks of him.
There's another long silence. Blaine sits at his desk and taps at his computer keyboard, but it's obvious that he's doing nothing.
"It's been a long Winter." Kurt says weakly.
"Yeah. Yeah it has."
"Look, Blaine-"
"No. No, Kurt. I... I need to talk to you." he fixes Kurt with a stare. It isn't like one Kurt's ever received from Blaine before. "This Winter's going to last forever, Kurt. It won't ever end. Spring isn't coming anymore." He doesn't blink. "Do you understand what I'm saying to you?"
"But I love you." Kurt whispers. The words sound like a ghost who can't muster up enough breath to cry out.
"I'm sorry." Blaine replies, and it's the worst.
Kurt can't see Winter ever ending in New York.