Wish You Were Here (PG-13)

[iwrotestuff]

Title: Wish You Were Here (Glory Box 5/6)
Rating: I’d place this part at about a PG-13, but it doesn’t really make sense unless you’ve read the very NC-17 part that kicks everything into gear.
Word Count: 1983
Spoilers: Through Furt, and goes AU from there.
Warnings: Beware of angst - from the boys as well as me, because angst isn’t my usual

Comments

[pushplaytobegin]

Reading this made me fall in love with Kurt a little bit more, because he can (when he wants to) set aside a snit and dig into compassion. My heart just cracked when Blaine found out Kurt's been gone a week, and god, how heartbreaking. Thank goodness Kurt is still residing in compassion by the time Blaine finds his note. And I love how quickly Blaine goes from the bells being the end of one day to deciding it's also the beginning of a new one. Way to go, Blaine. What's the other song say? Every new beginning comes from some other beginning's end.

Also, the things this chapter did that you couldn't have possibly forseen or intended... it made me think of one of my favorite writers, Emma Bull, and her (largely) epistolary novel, Freedom and Necessity. It made me remember I owe a friend a long, chatty letter, written on paper (maybe with a fountain pen, if I can bring myself to clean and fill one) and sent through the post. It made me remember a friend from Cal Arts I've lost touch with who loved Pink Floyd. And the cellos of Rasputina are so welcome, because I've just returned from a pub where a gypsy jazz band was playing. The sound is similar, although the jazz band was more cheerful than Wish You Were Here. (I'm a little tipsy, so... rambly.)

[iwrotestuff]

If I may go on a bit of a sidetrack for a moment...

I recently went to visit a friend I hadn't seen in a long time (and the one time I had seen him in the last eleven years had been for just an afternoon). One of the first things I did after arriving at his place was to fall into a truly decadent bubble bath, as his tub is phenomenal, and I am currently without one to call my own. He periodically came in to talk for a few minutes or refill my glass of champagne, and during one of these moments, that song came up on my iPod (which was plugged into a dock beside the bath).

"Do you know this one?" I'd asked him. "I know Pink Floyd is one of your favorites, and I know you're down with Raspy, too."

He crouched beside the tub and rested a hand over mine as he listened. "How did you know that? I don't remember ever listening to them around you."

"You had the posters framed in your old apartment in Phoenix," I'd answered. "In what was supposed to be the dining area."

"How do you remember that?" he'd asked, shaking his head and grinning.

"It had to do with you," I'd answered before taking a ship of my champagne and sinking further beneath the bubbles. "The real question would be how you'd ever think I could forget."

(Anyway. A-hem. Sorry for that.)

I honestly think Kurt is a very compassionate person - he just finds himself hiding it a lot because he's always got to be so guarded. He wants his heart to be open, but he's surrounded by so much ugliness that he knows he's forced to keep it shut. When he realizes there are people he can open it for, however, it's all-encompassing and without fail. That's just my personal headcanon, though, so I may be over thinking it a bit too much.

I read a description of the book you mention, and it sounds intriguing. If I ever find the time to finish the stack I currently have from the library (after finishing Made To Be Broken, that is), I might have to check it out.

It sounds like you had a lovely evening. Good music and good friends - even when just thought of in passing - make life more worth living. That's always a wonderful thing.