Fic: The Last Song, Part 2
Title: The Last Song
Author: jjjjordo
Rating: PG-13
Word Count: 5,331 for this part, 23,866 overall.
Summary: When Burt left their family, Kurt shut everything out of his life: his family, his friends, and, most importantly, music. However, when he is forced to spend a summer in Florida with Burt and Finn, he meets volleyball player and bird expert Bliane Anderson, whose easygoing smile and carefree attitude breaks down Kurt's walls and shows him that it's okay to forgive and let people back in. Based off of this prompt, a Last Song/Glee fusion where Blaine is Will and Kurt is Ronnie.
Author's Note: Wow, this has been a journey. I have never done a big bang and I've never written a fic this long before. A million thanks go out to the amazing spookykat, who beta'd my fic and contributed some of the most brilliant, in-character lines I think I have ever read at some points. Thanks also go out to kurtage, who made the beautiful mix that goes along with this fic and whose username is not liked by my journal for whatever reason. It's been an amazing little journey, and I really can't wait to do it again!
The next morning, Kurt was reluctantly woken up at eight by none other than the dynamic duo. All he heard was a series of unnaturally loud clanging noises and raised voices, but that was all he needed to awake him from a deep and wonderful sleep. He’d been having a dream that he was auditioning for a Broadway production Wicked, and the casting directors were showering him with praise. It had been an amazing dream, and his first reaction was to blow up at the knuckleheads who had stopped it.
“What the hell are you doing?” he yelled upon storming angrily out of the house and finding both Finn and Burt standing in the driveway, looking guilty as they both held big boxes full of unrecognizable metal objects.
“Sorry, Sport,” Burt said, with a sincerely apologetic look on his face, “We were just going to work on the car. We didn’t mean to wake you up, buddy. You can go back to sleep, sorry for the disturbance.”
“Well, be a little quieter next time. And I can’t go back to sleep; I’ve already woken up.” Kurt snapped, narrowing his eyes and crossing his arms.
“Well, why don’t you go down to the boardwalk today? It’s going to be a beautiful day outside!” Burt said, shrugging.
Kurt just briefly glared at him before pivoting on the spot and stalking back to his bedroom. He changed into a comfortable pair of black and white plaid shorts, some black flip flops, and a lightweight white v-neck, one of his favorites. He threw on a pair of black sunglasses and was ready to go. He figured that if it was a nice day, he could use a nice walk and a lot of time away from Burt and Finn. It would also give him the opportunity to scope out the area and find a movie theater or something of that nature.
He went ahead and made some breakfast: a piece of toast, lightly buttered, with a scrambled egg. He was about to clean the dishes, but decided that while he was at it, he might as well make breakfast for the other two, so he took omelet requests and filled them, making a generous plate of bacon and some more toast to go with it.
“Thanks, Kurt! This is awesome,” Finn said, grinning as he stuffed half a piece of toast into his mouth and then shoveled in some bacon. Kurt cringed.
“This is very nice, thank you.” Burt said, smiling sincerely at Kurt as he took a bite out of his bacon.
“You’re welcome, Dad.” Kurt said, smiling softly back at him.
“Hey, have fun today. Okay?” Burt said, his voice full of caring. Kurt nodded.
“I will.”
He ducked into his room, grabbed his phone and wallet, and went out the back door like he had the night before, though there was no need to sneak out this time. He slowly made his way to the boardwalk, which was bustling for a Saturday morning. He found a smoothie stand, and, after thoroughly questioning the cashier about the ingredients used in them, bought a strawberry and coconut one. After sipping it and deciding that it wasn’t too bad, he started making his way towards the beach.
One of the local volleyball teams was practicing, and Kurt wasn’t about to hop on the bandwagon and fawn over the team like all of the slutty girls on the beach. Yeah, he usually jumped at the chance to watch shirtless guys play sports in the sun, glistening with sweat and showing off their muscular bodies, but it seemed like every girl in the state of Florida had, too, today. He didn’t need to be shunned here because he let his true self show, and drooling over a guy (or a whole team of them at that) would definitely do it for him. So, he just decided to pass by and not look at any of the players, acting as if he really didn’t care.
But that proved not to be the most convenient. Since Kurt wasn’t watching the players, he wasn’t watching the ball, either, especially when a guy on one of the teams served it extra hard and it went catapulting over the crowd. Kurt really wasn’t paying attention when one of the players on the other team ran to go catch it, running straight into him.
Honestly, Kurt hadn’t even considered that drinking a bright pink smoothie while wearing a white shirt and black and white shorts was not the best idea he’d ever come up with until the smoothie was out of its cup and all over him. His jaw dropped after he saw his ruined attire, and he was ready to chew out the douche that rammed into him. But then, he met eyes with said douche, and all hostile thoughts disappeared.
He was, to put it lightly, the most gorgeous human being Kurt had ever seen. His skin was a light, even tan and smooth, glistening with sweat from the strain of volleyball. He was slightly shorter than Kurt, though he had more arm and leg muscles, and he had pretty nice abs, though they weren’t anything to drool over compared to his hair.
Yeah, it was all over his chest (a nice bonus, Kurt had to admit), but it was all over his head. It was dark and curly, untamed, and Kurt loved it. It was the kind of hair that you wanted to run your fingers through, and Kurt really did want to do just that. The guy held out a hand and Kurt took it with fake reluctance, hoisting himself up.
“I am so sorry,” the guy said with genuine sympathy, a look of guilt on his face, “Is there anything I can do to help you? I’ll buy you another shirt.”
Damn. His voice was like butter. Kurt fought back a sigh, and instead masked his affection with feigned annoyance.
“Um, how about no?” he said, crossing his arms (not a good idea; he got smoothie all over his arms in the process, and the guy stifled a chuckle) and narrowing his eyes, “You can leave me alone, that’s what you can do.”
“Wait,” the volleyball player said, grabbing Kurt’s wrist before he could make a move towards leaving, “Are you sure?”
No, Kurt thought as he looked into the guy’s deep brown eyes. They really were just gorgeous.
“Yeah, I’m sure.” Kurt mumbled. He jerked his wrist out of the guy’s grip and practically ran away, away from the boardwalk and away from the laughing spectators, who had seen the whole thing.
***
Kurt ended up sneaking back into the house to shower and change, undetected by the guys, who were completely immersed in their work in the garage. He really didn’t want them asking what the matter was, because he really didn’t want to explain.
He checked his phone for nearby attractions and found what seemed to be an awesome movie theater nearby. He grabbed his wallet, headed towards the theater, and ended up catching three movies in a row, which would have been totally awesome had they been different movies. All that was out besides the gimmicky talking animal family flicks that were the summer norm were those horrible romantic comedies, the ones that severely depress you because you realize that you don’t have a significant other and, if you’re going to see that kind of movie alone, never will unless it’s by yourself on your couch gorging on low-fat frozen yogurt. Kurt had to sit through three of them. It’s not like he had anything better to do, but it was still pretty bad.
By the time he dragged himself out of the movie theater, it was about seven, and he was worn out. Who knew that sitting in a movie theater for hours on end could be so tiring? So, he decided to head home, knowing that he could lock himself in his room and remain undisturbed for hours on end. His father and stepbrother were so into rebuilding that car, and it was really a blessing in disguise: they remained out of his hair, and “family time” was out of the question. Nobody was going to ask Kurt to spend time with them, and he was perfectly fine with that.
That was why he was surprised when Burt called him into the living room the second he walked through the front door. His heart pounded fast. Was he in trouble? Walking into the living room and joining Burt, though, confirmed that he was not, in fact, in trouble, at least not in the sense he’d thought.
“Now, Kurt,” Burt said, sighing, signaling that he was about to start one of his rare lectures, “You know that I respect you, right? You know that I want you to make your own decisions in life, correct?”
“Yeah,” Kurt mumbled, sitting back in the comfy chair he was in, shrugging, “I guess.”
“And, Kurt, I really don’t like to meddle in your life, and I want you to be able to make it on your own, so I don’t make your decisions for you.” Burt said, the concern thick in his voice.
“Just spit it out, Dad.” Kurt snapped.
“Kurt, I think you should go to Juliard.” Burt said, looking deep into Kurt’s eyes.
“No.” Kurt said quietly, the expression on his face not changing.
“Kurt,” Burt pleaded, sighing and closing his eyes before continuing, “There are so many people who work all of their lives to get into that school, and they’re offering you a full ride, and you’re going to refuse? Kurt, you have talent. You can sing better than any of those yahoos I hear on the radio, and you can dance way better than those people on the television. And, Kurt, you can play the piano. You’re a triple threat, and they love that! You’re going to refuse the opportunity to get even better and study at one of the best performing arts schools in the country?”
“Yes,” Kurt said, his expression still serious, “I am. And do you want to know why? I don’t want to perform anymore. I quit glee club this year. I haven’t sung or played the piano in months, and I can’t even remember the last time I danced. I don’t want to get my hopes up about something that fleeting, something that can crash down at any moment. I don’t want to get my dreams crushed.”
“So you’re deciding you’re not even gonna try?” Burt said, raising his eyebrows. Kurt hated when he did that; it usually meant that he was right.
“Yep,” Kurt said, mustering up some fake confidence, “And I’m perfectly happy with it. In fact, I don’t miss it at all. I’ve been able to focus a lot more on my studies.”
“Well, if you’ll excuse me,” he said, standing up before Burt could say anything more, “I’m tired, and I want to go to bed.”
With that, he exited the living room and retreated to his room again, the door like a shield.
***
The next morning, Kurt woke up not to the jangling of car parts, but, strangely enough, chirping. He sat up quickly and just sat there, listening. There was a little bird, from the sound of it, chirping outside his window. The bird’s song soon became frantic, though, and it didn’t sound good. He rushed outside after slipping some flip flops on, not even caring that he still had on his silk pajamas, and went to see what the ruckus was about. There, in fact was a bird. It was a bright yellow canary, and the nest was in a little corner of the porch located by Kurt’s window, which stretched across the length of the house. It was perched in a nest containing four little eggs, and Kurt would have cooed with joy if not for the raccoon.
The raccoon was swiping at the little bird, jumping back when the bird spreads its wings and started chirping at it. Kurt screeched upon seeing the raccoon, and fled into the house, where a startled-looking Burt sat in the living room, reading the newspaper and sipping coffee while some game from last night was playing on the TV.
“Dad, there’s a raccoon on the porch!” Kurt said, pointing towards the general direction of the front door.
Burt quickly got up and went to go fetch a broom. By the time he had gotten outside and scared the raccoon, it was too late. Not all of the eggs were gone, but only two remained of the original four, and the little bird looked severely wounded.
“Oh, this is Mrs. Anderson’s wild canary,” Burt explained as he and Kurt assessed the damage, “Before she died, she let him out, and I guess he built a nest here. You know, her grandson is an expert with this stuff; I’ll go ahead and call him up. He lives nearby, and I’ll see if he can fix up the little bird.”
“But we can’t save the eggs.” Kurt said softly, holding the canary gently in his hands, cupped around it.
“I’m sorry, Kurt.” Burt said, shaking his head. He then retreated inside to call Mrs. Anderson’s grandson. When he returned five minutes later, Kurt was still holding the bird, sitting in the same place.
“Mrs. Anderson’s grandson can’t come until tomorrow morning,” Burt said, “But he’ll be here early, don’t worry. He’s knows how to move the nest safely, so don’t touch it. Just leave it alone, and we’ll get it taken care of tomorrow.”
“Well, what am I supposed to do until then?” Kurt snapped, glaring at Burt, “What if another raccoon or a squirrel or something comes, huh? I can’t let these eggs get ruined, too. They can’t wait until tomorrow. I’m going to stay here until Mrs. Anderson’s grandson can get here to help.”
“Well, okay then,” Burt sighed, shaking his head, “But tomorrow morning is a long time away, Kurt. Are you sure you want to wait outside for that long?”
“Yes, I’m sure,” Kurt huffed impatiently, crossing his arms, “I can handle it, dad. Okay? I just need some supplies.”
Half an hour later, he’d set up a pretty comfortable area for himself. He’d pulled out a nice reclining beach chair that was big enough for him to lie down in. He’d grabbed some pillows and blankets for comfort, as well as entertainment items like his iPod and a dock to play it on and a book. To secure the nest, he found a large metal strainer with woven metal that could be seen (and, most importantly, breathed) through, so the bird would not become too flustered. Kurt didn’t want it flying away. It was wounded, and Kurt didn’t want it to get even more hurt than it already was. He’d also grabbed a tennis racket to ward away animals, but he was hoping he wasn’t going to need it.
“Are you sure you’re going to be fine out here all day?” Burt asked, raising his eyebrows as he ducked his head out the front door to talk to Kurt.
“I’ll come in to eat.” Kurt said, rolling his eyes and waving him off dismissively before turning back to his book.
“Okay,” Burt said, raising his hands in surrender, “Have fun.”
***
Kurt awoke multiple times that night. Twice, raccoons tried to get somewhat close to the eggs, but he wasn’t about to let that happen. He swatted haphazardly in the general direction of the raccoons when he heard them, but otherwise, didn’t need to do much. His sleep was broken up and he tossed and turned in the now-uncomfortable chair.
He was awoken at eight I the morning again, by someone who had to be Burt shaking his shoulders.
“Get off me, Dad.” Kurt mumbled sleepily, shooting up and out of his seat and turning to glare at him.
But it wasn’t Burt who stood there. It was the guy who had run into Kurt a couple days ago. Kurt immediately turned red from his neck to his forehead. He probably looked like a mess; he’d slept in the clothes he’d worn the day before, and he hadn’t completed his nightly moisturizing routines. Plus, his hair was probably a train wreck. He was sure that the guy recognized him, and he was even more embarrassed at that realization than anything else.
“Oh, I’m sorry,” the volleyball guy said, blushing a bit, though he looked like he was trying to hide laughter, “You must be Kurt. Your dad told me to wake you up.”
Thanks, Dad, Kurt thought, sighing.
“Yeah, that’s me,” he said, getting up slowly and stretching, joints popping, “And you are?”
“Blaine, Blaine Anderson,” the guy said, sticking out a hand politely, half a smirk on his face, though it wasn’t mocking or smug, just amused. “My grandmother used to live next door, and she and I raised little Pavarotti here.”
“Is that his name?” Kurt asked, raising his eyebrows at Blaine before looking over at the bird, “Pavarotti?”
“Yeah,” Blaine said, nodding and still smiling, though he was significantly less cheerful than he’d been a second ago, “You know, like the opera singer. My grandmother named her.”
“Oh,” Kurt said, blushing and looking away quietly, feeling as though he’d once again invaded someone’s privacy (and feeling stupid for not knowing that Pavarotti was a female), “Well, what are you going to do?”
“Well,” Blaine said, snapping out of his trance of a sort, “First, I have to assess the damage of little Pav here. She doesn’t look too bad, though I don’t think she’ll be able to fly for a little bit. We’re going to have to feed her for the next week or so. Then, we’ll relocate the nest to one of the bushes in front of your porch. That way, it will still be close.”
He really seemed like he knew what he was doing. He got straight to work, and Kurt cleaned up his mess from the day before, feeling slightly self-conscious now. What if Blaine was judging his clothing choice or taste in novels or his appearance? He decided to take a long shower while Blaine worked, and might have put on a little extra cologne, or might have worn a shirt that hugged him just right. But that wasn’t intentional, not at all.
When he got back, Blaine was whistling, Pavarotti perched on his finger. He’d fixed up her wings and moved the nest so that it was partially concealed in a tall bush. The little bird was whistling back happily, and Kurt couldn’t help but grin.
“I taught her how to do that one summer when I was twelve,” Blaine said, turning to Kurt, a smile on his face, “And I’ve been coming back every weekend to sing with her ever since. My grandmother used to love it. I used to love coming here…”
He looked off into the distance, his expression pained. Kurt bit his lip, not knowing what to say.
“I lost someone, too,” he said quietly. Blaine turned back to him, looking curious.
“My mom,” Kurt said softly, nodding and blinking back the tears that always came with this memory, “She died when I was really young. I…I miss her.”
“Kurt, I’m sorry,” Blaine said, perching Pavarotti on a branch of the bush and coming closer, “I didn’t know.”
“It’s okay,” Kurt said, shaking his head and forcing a smile, “I’ve gotten along just fine with my stepmom, so it’s not too bad.”
“Where is your stepmom?” Blaine asked innocently. If he only knew, Kurt thought grudgingly, though he tried not to let the newfound distaste for his stepmother seep into his voice.
“Ohio,” Kurt responded, “She and my dad are…”
“Oh,” Blaine said, looking embarrassed.
“Nah, it’s okay,” Kurt said, shrugging and sitting on a porch step, “I have a pretty screwed up life.”
“Tell me about it,” Blaine said, sighing and shaking his head, joining Kurt on the porch step, “You’re not alone there.”
“Well, I don’t know,” Kurt said, shaking his head, “Let’s see: my mom passed away, then my dad got remarried to the mother of the guy I used to like, and then left her a couple of months ago because he cheated on my stepmom. And I’m the only openly gay kid in my stupid little town. I don’t think it can get worse than that.”
“Oh, believe me,” Blaine said, chuckling and standing, “It can. Well, I have to go. I have volleyball practice.”
“Wait, so you’re going to just leave me?” Kurt asked, his face falling a bit. He didn’t want Blaine to leave, not yet.
“I’ll be back tomorrow,” Blaine said, laughing, “I’ll teach you how to feed Pavarotti. I’ve already given her some food for today.”
“Oh, okay,” Kurt said, smiling, “See you tomorrow, then!”
“See you tomorrow, Kurt!” Blaine said, waving and laughing as he got into his car and drove away.
***
Kurt got up extra early the next morning just to primp. Blaine may have been straight, but Kurt still had a little hope in his heart. Sure, it was a little vain hope, but it was hope, nonetheless. He was ready by eight thirty and sat in the living room with Burt, his leg bouncing up and down nervously. Okay, so he had a little crush on Blaine. But it meant nothing; it was just a little crush. He’d learned from experience that crushes on straight guys never worked out very well. But who was he to tell his heart what to feel? The heart wants what the heart wants, and if his heart wanted Blaine, then he needed to keep his mouth shut about it. As long as nobody knew, there was no harm in a little crush, right?
“What are you so excited about?” Burt asked, raising his eyebrows.
“Nothing,” Kurt lied, his response coming almost faster than the initial question.
“Okay,” Burt said skeptically, turning back to his paper ad sipping his coffee, “I just hope that you don’t get your hopes up for this Blaine kid.”
Before Kurt could scoff and make some excuse about how he was not into ‘this Blaine kid,’ the doorbell rang, and he jumped about two feet into the air.
“I’ll get it!” he sang as he ran to the door, though nobody had dared to move. He flung open the door to see Blaine, standing there, dressed casually in baggy shorts and a very flattering shirt that showed off his arms.
“Hey, Kurt!” he said, smiling with sincere happiness, “How’s it going?”
“Fine,” Kurt said, stepping outside and closing the front door behind him, “And how about you?”
“Totally awesome,” Blaine said, nodding, “Ready to feed Pavarotti?”
“Yeah,” Kurt said, beaming.
‘Feeding Pavarotti,’ as it turned out, was just a euphemism for ‘digging for worms.’ Of course, Blaine had brought nuts and seeds, but he said that the pet shop had been all out of worms and other small insects, but the owner said that he thought they’d be getting some in the next day. So, his solution, instead of waiting and letting Pavarotti eat just nuts and seeds, was to dig for bugs, since, as Blaine explained, she’d really need her protein to heal properly. Kurt had never in his life had to dig for any sort of living creature, especially not something as gross as a bug. He squealed in displeasure every time one touched his skin in any way; Blaine ended up doing most of the digging while Kurt just talked.
“So, she thought that coming here for the summer would make me a better person or something, or change my outlook on life. I mean, it’s not that I’m that negative of a person, I just don’t like my life in Ohio. Although, ironically, she was right about one thing: I just wanted some change, and I guess I found it.” Kurt said as Blaine dug around happily in the dirt.
“Well, you don’t seem like that much of a negative person to me,” he said, shrugging.
“See? That’s what I mean. I think that I just needed a change of scenery, you know?” Kurt said eagerly.
“So, what are your plans for college?” Blaine asked. Kurt looked away, saying nothing.
“Um,” he said after a long, awkward pause, “I…I haven’t really…I’m not going to college.”
“What?” Blaine asked, looking shocked as he turned to Kurt. “I mean, I’m perfectly aware that we barely know each other, but you seem like a very bright person. I guess that what trying to say is…I’m sort of confused, because I totally thought you’d be on the college track.”
“I just don’t feel like it,” Kurt said, shrugging, “I don’t know what I want to do with my life, so I didn’t feel the need to apply for college and pay all of that money just to, you know, waste it.”
“You didn’t even apply?” Blaine asked, positioning himself so that he was sitting on the ground instead of digging through it on all fours.
“Well, I got into Juliard, though I didn’t even apply,” Kurt said, rolling his eyes at his companion’s puzzled expression, “I don’t sing and dance anymore, so I didn’t even bother.”
“You turned down Juliard?” Blaine asked, jaw dropping.
“Yeah, so?” Kurt said, shrugging.
“So? Kurt, Juliard is some people’s dream. I barely got in. It’s not like it matters, though. My parents would never let me go.” Blaine said, sighing and going back to digging. Kurt didn’t ask any more questions, though a ton clouded his mind.
“Well,” Blaine said after a while, standing up and brushing himself off, “I have five, so that should be more than enough.”
He dumped the cream cheese container with the worms in it into Pavrotti’s nest, and put the container near the nest in the bush for future use. He looked down at himself and laughed.
“I’m a mess,” he said, laughing, “I’m going to go home and shower. Can I meet you back here in an hour?”
“What for?” Kurt asked, surprised.
“A stroll on the boardwalk?” Blaine suggested, grinning.
***
The boardwalk strolls became a thing between the two of them over the next few days. They would spend the morning over at Kurt’s, and then they would migrate over to the boardwalk. They’d get ice cream or see a movie or something. Kurt couldn’t help but feel like there was something more to the afternoons than just two friends hanging out, like a date, but when he met Rachel, that changed.
“Hey, handsome.” He heard a voice coo one day when they were walking. He and Blaine turned to see a short, curvy brunette batting her eyelashes at Blaine.
She was everything Kurt despised, and he could tell that from the moment he saw her. Her hair reached her shoulders, and her bangs hung over her forehead, just above her large brown eyes, which were framed by extremely long eyelashes. Her lips were full and over-glossed, and her eyes heavily shaded. The biggest feature on her face, however, was her abnormally large nose. Really, it was huge. But the hideousness of her attire outweighed the monstrosity that was her nose. She wore a black pencil skirt that fell to her knees, dark pantyhose, black penny loafers, and a t-shirt…with a horse on it. It wasn’t like a semi-hip screened shirt with an American Eagle logo on it. It was a neon pink t-shirt, with a horse printed right in the middle of it, full of rainbow colors and sparkles. It looked like something Kurt’s six-year-old cousin Katie would wear. And who paired penny loafers and a skirt with a t-shirt?
“Hi Rachel,” Blaine said, smiling, though Kurt could tell it was fake by the pain in his eyes, “How are you?”
“I’m just great, Blaine, thank you! You know, I actually got my acceptance letter from Juliard this morning. My dads had to pull some strings, but I’m in. Maybe we’ll have some classes together!”
“Actually, I’m not going,” Blaine mumbled, looking at his feet, “I’m going to Harvard.”
“Harvard?” Kurt asked, jaw dropping. Blaine just shrugged.
“And what about your friend here? Does he work for your dad?” Rachel asked, turning up her nose at Kurt.
“Actually, my name is Kurt, thank you very much,” Kurt said, stepping forward so that he towered over Rachel, “And I work for nobody. Also, I’m happy you got into Juliard. They really do let anyone in. Hell, I didn’t even apply, and they asked for me to attend.”
“Excuse me! I practically came out of my mother’s womb singing and dancing. The only reason I had trouble getting in is because I had trouble finding teachers to write recommendations. In my opinion, you don’t have the grace to be a dancer, and if your speaking voice is any indication, no wonder they didn’t let you in. They probably had a hard time deciding whether or not you were a tenor or a soprano!” Rachel said, crossing her arms.
“Counter-tenor, actually,” Kurt seethed.
“Well,” Rachel huffed, turning to Blaine, “I see no reason to stay around any longer. I have an audition for a local production of Sunset Boulevard this afternoon, and I need to perform my pre-audition yoga and vocal warm ups. I’ll see you around, Blaine.”
She waved in what she must have considered a flirty manner and pivoted on her heel, flouncing away and swishing from side to side as if she found herself sexy.
“Sorry about her,” Blaine said, sighing and rubbing the back of his neck. Kurt waved him off, laughing.
“Oh, don’t be! She was hilarious. Did you see how much gloss was on her lips? And that t-shirt was terrible!”
“Rachel’s my ex-girlfriend,” Blaine said, a solemn expression on his face as he watched Rachel’s retreating figure, “We went out for five months, and we broke up two weeks ago.”
“Oh,” Kurt said softly, “I didn’t know.”
“No, it’s fine,” Blaine said, shrugging, “She was a drag, and I’m glad to be rid of her.”
When he said that, though, Kurt didn’t believe it. There was something in the sad tone of his voice that suggested he wasn’t over her just yet, which meant that he was completely and utterly straight. All Kurt had needed was a confirmation, and here it was. How could he have been so stupid as to believe that their friendly walks and the time they spent together was anything more than a simple, platonic friendship? After all, that’s what two guys were supposed to have, not that Kurt would know. All of his close friends were girls.
“Hey, let’s go get some ice cream, my treat this time.” He said, trying to cheer Blaine up. His voice didn’t sound very convincing.
“Okay,” Blaine said, smiling halfheartedly.
***
“Hey, Kurt?” Blaine asked the next morning.
“Yeah?” Kurt sighed, looking over at Blaine, who sat on the porch steps while he crouched next to the bush, trying to get Pavarotti to come to his finger.
Blaine was fooling around with his guitar, and he was really good. He played some covers of some classics, and even some originals, which he insisted were terrible, though Kurt assured him that they were awesome, and they were. None of Kurt’s musically talented friends were songwriters, at least not good ones. Blaine, though, wrote amazing songs that were cute and romantic, and half of his assurance that they were great was probably fuelled by his love of Blaine’s buttery voice. Kurt didn’t think that voice could get any more irresistible, until Blaine had started singing ‘Somewhere Only We Know’ by Keane.
It had only gotten worse with all of the love songs he’d launched into, not even realizing Kurt’s face, which had gotten full of color after he’d realized that Blaine was singing love songs to him. It might not have been personal, but it tugged his heartstrings, and made the ache inside a little bit worse once he thought of the night before. He knew it didn’t really matter; he’d known Blaine was straight. Somehow, though, if still bummed him out.
“Let’s go to the boardwalk early today.” Blaine said, smiling and getting up.
Author: jjjjordo
Rating: PG-13
Word Count: 5,331 for this part, 23,866 overall.
Summary: When Burt left their family, Kurt shut everything out of his life: his family, his friends, and, most importantly, music. However, when he is forced to spend a summer in Florida with Burt and Finn, he meets volleyball player and bird expert Bliane Anderson, whose easygoing smile and carefree attitude breaks down Kurt's walls and shows him that it's okay to forgive and let people back in. Based off of this prompt, a Last Song/Glee fusion where Blaine is Will and Kurt is Ronnie.
Author's Note: Wow, this has been a journey. I have never done a big bang and I've never written a fic this long before. A million thanks go out to the amazing spookykat, who beta'd my fic and contributed some of the most brilliant, in-character lines I think I have ever read at some points. Thanks also go out to kurtage, who made the beautiful mix that goes along with this fic and whose username is not liked by my journal for whatever reason. It's been an amazing little journey, and I really can't wait to do it again!
The next morning, Kurt was reluctantly woken up at eight by none other than the dynamic duo. All he heard was a series of unnaturally loud clanging noises and raised voices, but that was all he needed to awake him from a deep and wonderful sleep. He’d been having a dream that he was auditioning for a Broadway production Wicked, and the casting directors were showering him with praise. It had been an amazing dream, and his first reaction was to blow up at the knuckleheads who had stopped it.
“What the hell are you doing?” he yelled upon storming angrily out of the house and finding both Finn and Burt standing in the driveway, looking guilty as they both held big boxes full of unrecognizable metal objects.
“Sorry, Sport,” Burt said, with a sincerely apologetic look on his face, “We were just going to work on the car. We didn’t mean to wake you up, buddy. You can go back to sleep, sorry for the disturbance.”
“Well, be a little quieter next time. And I can’t go back to sleep; I’ve already woken up.” Kurt snapped, narrowing his eyes and crossing his arms.
“Well, why don’t you go down to the boardwalk today? It’s going to be a beautiful day outside!” Burt said, shrugging.
Kurt just briefly glared at him before pivoting on the spot and stalking back to his bedroom. He changed into a comfortable pair of black and white plaid shorts, some black flip flops, and a lightweight white v-neck, one of his favorites. He threw on a pair of black sunglasses and was ready to go. He figured that if it was a nice day, he could use a nice walk and a lot of time away from Burt and Finn. It would also give him the opportunity to scope out the area and find a movie theater or something of that nature.
He went ahead and made some breakfast: a piece of toast, lightly buttered, with a scrambled egg. He was about to clean the dishes, but decided that while he was at it, he might as well make breakfast for the other two, so he took omelet requests and filled them, making a generous plate of bacon and some more toast to go with it.
“Thanks, Kurt! This is awesome,” Finn said, grinning as he stuffed half a piece of toast into his mouth and then shoveled in some bacon. Kurt cringed.
“This is very nice, thank you.” Burt said, smiling sincerely at Kurt as he took a bite out of his bacon.
“You’re welcome, Dad.” Kurt said, smiling softly back at him.
“Hey, have fun today. Okay?” Burt said, his voice full of caring. Kurt nodded.
“I will.”
He ducked into his room, grabbed his phone and wallet, and went out the back door like he had the night before, though there was no need to sneak out this time. He slowly made his way to the boardwalk, which was bustling for a Saturday morning. He found a smoothie stand, and, after thoroughly questioning the cashier about the ingredients used in them, bought a strawberry and coconut one. After sipping it and deciding that it wasn’t too bad, he started making his way towards the beach.
One of the local volleyball teams was practicing, and Kurt wasn’t about to hop on the bandwagon and fawn over the team like all of the slutty girls on the beach. Yeah, he usually jumped at the chance to watch shirtless guys play sports in the sun, glistening with sweat and showing off their muscular bodies, but it seemed like every girl in the state of Florida had, too, today. He didn’t need to be shunned here because he let his true self show, and drooling over a guy (or a whole team of them at that) would definitely do it for him. So, he just decided to pass by and not look at any of the players, acting as if he really didn’t care.
But that proved not to be the most convenient. Since Kurt wasn’t watching the players, he wasn’t watching the ball, either, especially when a guy on one of the teams served it extra hard and it went catapulting over the crowd. Kurt really wasn’t paying attention when one of the players on the other team ran to go catch it, running straight into him.
Honestly, Kurt hadn’t even considered that drinking a bright pink smoothie while wearing a white shirt and black and white shorts was not the best idea he’d ever come up with until the smoothie was out of its cup and all over him. His jaw dropped after he saw his ruined attire, and he was ready to chew out the douche that rammed into him. But then, he met eyes with said douche, and all hostile thoughts disappeared.
He was, to put it lightly, the most gorgeous human being Kurt had ever seen. His skin was a light, even tan and smooth, glistening with sweat from the strain of volleyball. He was slightly shorter than Kurt, though he had more arm and leg muscles, and he had pretty nice abs, though they weren’t anything to drool over compared to his hair.
Yeah, it was all over his chest (a nice bonus, Kurt had to admit), but it was all over his head. It was dark and curly, untamed, and Kurt loved it. It was the kind of hair that you wanted to run your fingers through, and Kurt really did want to do just that. The guy held out a hand and Kurt took it with fake reluctance, hoisting himself up.
“I am so sorry,” the guy said with genuine sympathy, a look of guilt on his face, “Is there anything I can do to help you? I’ll buy you another shirt.”
Damn. His voice was like butter. Kurt fought back a sigh, and instead masked his affection with feigned annoyance.
“Um, how about no?” he said, crossing his arms (not a good idea; he got smoothie all over his arms in the process, and the guy stifled a chuckle) and narrowing his eyes, “You can leave me alone, that’s what you can do.”
“Wait,” the volleyball player said, grabbing Kurt’s wrist before he could make a move towards leaving, “Are you sure?”
No, Kurt thought as he looked into the guy’s deep brown eyes. They really were just gorgeous.
“Yeah, I’m sure.” Kurt mumbled. He jerked his wrist out of the guy’s grip and practically ran away, away from the boardwalk and away from the laughing spectators, who had seen the whole thing.
***
Kurt ended up sneaking back into the house to shower and change, undetected by the guys, who were completely immersed in their work in the garage. He really didn’t want them asking what the matter was, because he really didn’t want to explain.
He checked his phone for nearby attractions and found what seemed to be an awesome movie theater nearby. He grabbed his wallet, headed towards the theater, and ended up catching three movies in a row, which would have been totally awesome had they been different movies. All that was out besides the gimmicky talking animal family flicks that were the summer norm were those horrible romantic comedies, the ones that severely depress you because you realize that you don’t have a significant other and, if you’re going to see that kind of movie alone, never will unless it’s by yourself on your couch gorging on low-fat frozen yogurt. Kurt had to sit through three of them. It’s not like he had anything better to do, but it was still pretty bad.
By the time he dragged himself out of the movie theater, it was about seven, and he was worn out. Who knew that sitting in a movie theater for hours on end could be so tiring? So, he decided to head home, knowing that he could lock himself in his room and remain undisturbed for hours on end. His father and stepbrother were so into rebuilding that car, and it was really a blessing in disguise: they remained out of his hair, and “family time” was out of the question. Nobody was going to ask Kurt to spend time with them, and he was perfectly fine with that.
That was why he was surprised when Burt called him into the living room the second he walked through the front door. His heart pounded fast. Was he in trouble? Walking into the living room and joining Burt, though, confirmed that he was not, in fact, in trouble, at least not in the sense he’d thought.
“Now, Kurt,” Burt said, sighing, signaling that he was about to start one of his rare lectures, “You know that I respect you, right? You know that I want you to make your own decisions in life, correct?”
“Yeah,” Kurt mumbled, sitting back in the comfy chair he was in, shrugging, “I guess.”
“And, Kurt, I really don’t like to meddle in your life, and I want you to be able to make it on your own, so I don’t make your decisions for you.” Burt said, the concern thick in his voice.
“Just spit it out, Dad.” Kurt snapped.
“Kurt, I think you should go to Juliard.” Burt said, looking deep into Kurt’s eyes.
“No.” Kurt said quietly, the expression on his face not changing.
“Kurt,” Burt pleaded, sighing and closing his eyes before continuing, “There are so many people who work all of their lives to get into that school, and they’re offering you a full ride, and you’re going to refuse? Kurt, you have talent. You can sing better than any of those yahoos I hear on the radio, and you can dance way better than those people on the television. And, Kurt, you can play the piano. You’re a triple threat, and they love that! You’re going to refuse the opportunity to get even better and study at one of the best performing arts schools in the country?”
“Yes,” Kurt said, his expression still serious, “I am. And do you want to know why? I don’t want to perform anymore. I quit glee club this year. I haven’t sung or played the piano in months, and I can’t even remember the last time I danced. I don’t want to get my hopes up about something that fleeting, something that can crash down at any moment. I don’t want to get my dreams crushed.”
“So you’re deciding you’re not even gonna try?” Burt said, raising his eyebrows. Kurt hated when he did that; it usually meant that he was right.
“Yep,” Kurt said, mustering up some fake confidence, “And I’m perfectly happy with it. In fact, I don’t miss it at all. I’ve been able to focus a lot more on my studies.”
“Well, if you’ll excuse me,” he said, standing up before Burt could say anything more, “I’m tired, and I want to go to bed.”
With that, he exited the living room and retreated to his room again, the door like a shield.
***
The next morning, Kurt woke up not to the jangling of car parts, but, strangely enough, chirping. He sat up quickly and just sat there, listening. There was a little bird, from the sound of it, chirping outside his window. The bird’s song soon became frantic, though, and it didn’t sound good. He rushed outside after slipping some flip flops on, not even caring that he still had on his silk pajamas, and went to see what the ruckus was about. There, in fact was a bird. It was a bright yellow canary, and the nest was in a little corner of the porch located by Kurt’s window, which stretched across the length of the house. It was perched in a nest containing four little eggs, and Kurt would have cooed with joy if not for the raccoon.
The raccoon was swiping at the little bird, jumping back when the bird spreads its wings and started chirping at it. Kurt screeched upon seeing the raccoon, and fled into the house, where a startled-looking Burt sat in the living room, reading the newspaper and sipping coffee while some game from last night was playing on the TV.
“Dad, there’s a raccoon on the porch!” Kurt said, pointing towards the general direction of the front door.
Burt quickly got up and went to go fetch a broom. By the time he had gotten outside and scared the raccoon, it was too late. Not all of the eggs were gone, but only two remained of the original four, and the little bird looked severely wounded.
“Oh, this is Mrs. Anderson’s wild canary,” Burt explained as he and Kurt assessed the damage, “Before she died, she let him out, and I guess he built a nest here. You know, her grandson is an expert with this stuff; I’ll go ahead and call him up. He lives nearby, and I’ll see if he can fix up the little bird.”
“But we can’t save the eggs.” Kurt said softly, holding the canary gently in his hands, cupped around it.
“I’m sorry, Kurt.” Burt said, shaking his head. He then retreated inside to call Mrs. Anderson’s grandson. When he returned five minutes later, Kurt was still holding the bird, sitting in the same place.
“Mrs. Anderson’s grandson can’t come until tomorrow morning,” Burt said, “But he’ll be here early, don’t worry. He’s knows how to move the nest safely, so don’t touch it. Just leave it alone, and we’ll get it taken care of tomorrow.”
“Well, what am I supposed to do until then?” Kurt snapped, glaring at Burt, “What if another raccoon or a squirrel or something comes, huh? I can’t let these eggs get ruined, too. They can’t wait until tomorrow. I’m going to stay here until Mrs. Anderson’s grandson can get here to help.”
“Well, okay then,” Burt sighed, shaking his head, “But tomorrow morning is a long time away, Kurt. Are you sure you want to wait outside for that long?”
“Yes, I’m sure,” Kurt huffed impatiently, crossing his arms, “I can handle it, dad. Okay? I just need some supplies.”
Half an hour later, he’d set up a pretty comfortable area for himself. He’d pulled out a nice reclining beach chair that was big enough for him to lie down in. He’d grabbed some pillows and blankets for comfort, as well as entertainment items like his iPod and a dock to play it on and a book. To secure the nest, he found a large metal strainer with woven metal that could be seen (and, most importantly, breathed) through, so the bird would not become too flustered. Kurt didn’t want it flying away. It was wounded, and Kurt didn’t want it to get even more hurt than it already was. He’d also grabbed a tennis racket to ward away animals, but he was hoping he wasn’t going to need it.
“Are you sure you’re going to be fine out here all day?” Burt asked, raising his eyebrows as he ducked his head out the front door to talk to Kurt.
“I’ll come in to eat.” Kurt said, rolling his eyes and waving him off dismissively before turning back to his book.
“Okay,” Burt said, raising his hands in surrender, “Have fun.”
***
Kurt awoke multiple times that night. Twice, raccoons tried to get somewhat close to the eggs, but he wasn’t about to let that happen. He swatted haphazardly in the general direction of the raccoons when he heard them, but otherwise, didn’t need to do much. His sleep was broken up and he tossed and turned in the now-uncomfortable chair.
He was awoken at eight I the morning again, by someone who had to be Burt shaking his shoulders.
“Get off me, Dad.” Kurt mumbled sleepily, shooting up and out of his seat and turning to glare at him.
But it wasn’t Burt who stood there. It was the guy who had run into Kurt a couple days ago. Kurt immediately turned red from his neck to his forehead. He probably looked like a mess; he’d slept in the clothes he’d worn the day before, and he hadn’t completed his nightly moisturizing routines. Plus, his hair was probably a train wreck. He was sure that the guy recognized him, and he was even more embarrassed at that realization than anything else.
“Oh, I’m sorry,” the volleyball guy said, blushing a bit, though he looked like he was trying to hide laughter, “You must be Kurt. Your dad told me to wake you up.”
Thanks, Dad, Kurt thought, sighing.
“Yeah, that’s me,” he said, getting up slowly and stretching, joints popping, “And you are?”
“Blaine, Blaine Anderson,” the guy said, sticking out a hand politely, half a smirk on his face, though it wasn’t mocking or smug, just amused. “My grandmother used to live next door, and she and I raised little Pavarotti here.”
“Is that his name?” Kurt asked, raising his eyebrows at Blaine before looking over at the bird, “Pavarotti?”
“Yeah,” Blaine said, nodding and still smiling, though he was significantly less cheerful than he’d been a second ago, “You know, like the opera singer. My grandmother named her.”
“Oh,” Kurt said, blushing and looking away quietly, feeling as though he’d once again invaded someone’s privacy (and feeling stupid for not knowing that Pavarotti was a female), “Well, what are you going to do?”
“Well,” Blaine said, snapping out of his trance of a sort, “First, I have to assess the damage of little Pav here. She doesn’t look too bad, though I don’t think she’ll be able to fly for a little bit. We’re going to have to feed her for the next week or so. Then, we’ll relocate the nest to one of the bushes in front of your porch. That way, it will still be close.”
He really seemed like he knew what he was doing. He got straight to work, and Kurt cleaned up his mess from the day before, feeling slightly self-conscious now. What if Blaine was judging his clothing choice or taste in novels or his appearance? He decided to take a long shower while Blaine worked, and might have put on a little extra cologne, or might have worn a shirt that hugged him just right. But that wasn’t intentional, not at all.
When he got back, Blaine was whistling, Pavarotti perched on his finger. He’d fixed up her wings and moved the nest so that it was partially concealed in a tall bush. The little bird was whistling back happily, and Kurt couldn’t help but grin.
“I taught her how to do that one summer when I was twelve,” Blaine said, turning to Kurt, a smile on his face, “And I’ve been coming back every weekend to sing with her ever since. My grandmother used to love it. I used to love coming here…”
He looked off into the distance, his expression pained. Kurt bit his lip, not knowing what to say.
“I lost someone, too,” he said quietly. Blaine turned back to him, looking curious.
“My mom,” Kurt said softly, nodding and blinking back the tears that always came with this memory, “She died when I was really young. I…I miss her.”
“Kurt, I’m sorry,” Blaine said, perching Pavarotti on a branch of the bush and coming closer, “I didn’t know.”
“It’s okay,” Kurt said, shaking his head and forcing a smile, “I’ve gotten along just fine with my stepmom, so it’s not too bad.”
“Where is your stepmom?” Blaine asked innocently. If he only knew, Kurt thought grudgingly, though he tried not to let the newfound distaste for his stepmother seep into his voice.
“Ohio,” Kurt responded, “She and my dad are…”
“Oh,” Blaine said, looking embarrassed.
“Nah, it’s okay,” Kurt said, shrugging and sitting on a porch step, “I have a pretty screwed up life.”
“Tell me about it,” Blaine said, sighing and shaking his head, joining Kurt on the porch step, “You’re not alone there.”
“Well, I don’t know,” Kurt said, shaking his head, “Let’s see: my mom passed away, then my dad got remarried to the mother of the guy I used to like, and then left her a couple of months ago because he cheated on my stepmom. And I’m the only openly gay kid in my stupid little town. I don’t think it can get worse than that.”
“Oh, believe me,” Blaine said, chuckling and standing, “It can. Well, I have to go. I have volleyball practice.”
“Wait, so you’re going to just leave me?” Kurt asked, his face falling a bit. He didn’t want Blaine to leave, not yet.
“I’ll be back tomorrow,” Blaine said, laughing, “I’ll teach you how to feed Pavarotti. I’ve already given her some food for today.”
“Oh, okay,” Kurt said, smiling, “See you tomorrow, then!”
“See you tomorrow, Kurt!” Blaine said, waving and laughing as he got into his car and drove away.
***
Kurt got up extra early the next morning just to primp. Blaine may have been straight, but Kurt still had a little hope in his heart. Sure, it was a little vain hope, but it was hope, nonetheless. He was ready by eight thirty and sat in the living room with Burt, his leg bouncing up and down nervously. Okay, so he had a little crush on Blaine. But it meant nothing; it was just a little crush. He’d learned from experience that crushes on straight guys never worked out very well. But who was he to tell his heart what to feel? The heart wants what the heart wants, and if his heart wanted Blaine, then he needed to keep his mouth shut about it. As long as nobody knew, there was no harm in a little crush, right?
“What are you so excited about?” Burt asked, raising his eyebrows.
“Nothing,” Kurt lied, his response coming almost faster than the initial question.
“Okay,” Burt said skeptically, turning back to his paper ad sipping his coffee, “I just hope that you don’t get your hopes up for this Blaine kid.”
Before Kurt could scoff and make some excuse about how he was not into ‘this Blaine kid,’ the doorbell rang, and he jumped about two feet into the air.
“I’ll get it!” he sang as he ran to the door, though nobody had dared to move. He flung open the door to see Blaine, standing there, dressed casually in baggy shorts and a very flattering shirt that showed off his arms.
“Hey, Kurt!” he said, smiling with sincere happiness, “How’s it going?”
“Fine,” Kurt said, stepping outside and closing the front door behind him, “And how about you?”
“Totally awesome,” Blaine said, nodding, “Ready to feed Pavarotti?”
“Yeah,” Kurt said, beaming.
‘Feeding Pavarotti,’ as it turned out, was just a euphemism for ‘digging for worms.’ Of course, Blaine had brought nuts and seeds, but he said that the pet shop had been all out of worms and other small insects, but the owner said that he thought they’d be getting some in the next day. So, his solution, instead of waiting and letting Pavarotti eat just nuts and seeds, was to dig for bugs, since, as Blaine explained, she’d really need her protein to heal properly. Kurt had never in his life had to dig for any sort of living creature, especially not something as gross as a bug. He squealed in displeasure every time one touched his skin in any way; Blaine ended up doing most of the digging while Kurt just talked.
“So, she thought that coming here for the summer would make me a better person or something, or change my outlook on life. I mean, it’s not that I’m that negative of a person, I just don’t like my life in Ohio. Although, ironically, she was right about one thing: I just wanted some change, and I guess I found it.” Kurt said as Blaine dug around happily in the dirt.
“Well, you don’t seem like that much of a negative person to me,” he said, shrugging.
“See? That’s what I mean. I think that I just needed a change of scenery, you know?” Kurt said eagerly.
“So, what are your plans for college?” Blaine asked. Kurt looked away, saying nothing.
“Um,” he said after a long, awkward pause, “I…I haven’t really…I’m not going to college.”
“What?” Blaine asked, looking shocked as he turned to Kurt. “I mean, I’m perfectly aware that we barely know each other, but you seem like a very bright person. I guess that what trying to say is…I’m sort of confused, because I totally thought you’d be on the college track.”
“I just don’t feel like it,” Kurt said, shrugging, “I don’t know what I want to do with my life, so I didn’t feel the need to apply for college and pay all of that money just to, you know, waste it.”
“You didn’t even apply?” Blaine asked, positioning himself so that he was sitting on the ground instead of digging through it on all fours.
“Well, I got into Juliard, though I didn’t even apply,” Kurt said, rolling his eyes at his companion’s puzzled expression, “I don’t sing and dance anymore, so I didn’t even bother.”
“You turned down Juliard?” Blaine asked, jaw dropping.
“Yeah, so?” Kurt said, shrugging.
“So? Kurt, Juliard is some people’s dream. I barely got in. It’s not like it matters, though. My parents would never let me go.” Blaine said, sighing and going back to digging. Kurt didn’t ask any more questions, though a ton clouded his mind.
“Well,” Blaine said after a while, standing up and brushing himself off, “I have five, so that should be more than enough.”
He dumped the cream cheese container with the worms in it into Pavrotti’s nest, and put the container near the nest in the bush for future use. He looked down at himself and laughed.
“I’m a mess,” he said, laughing, “I’m going to go home and shower. Can I meet you back here in an hour?”
“What for?” Kurt asked, surprised.
“A stroll on the boardwalk?” Blaine suggested, grinning.
***
The boardwalk strolls became a thing between the two of them over the next few days. They would spend the morning over at Kurt’s, and then they would migrate over to the boardwalk. They’d get ice cream or see a movie or something. Kurt couldn’t help but feel like there was something more to the afternoons than just two friends hanging out, like a date, but when he met Rachel, that changed.
“Hey, handsome.” He heard a voice coo one day when they were walking. He and Blaine turned to see a short, curvy brunette batting her eyelashes at Blaine.
She was everything Kurt despised, and he could tell that from the moment he saw her. Her hair reached her shoulders, and her bangs hung over her forehead, just above her large brown eyes, which were framed by extremely long eyelashes. Her lips were full and over-glossed, and her eyes heavily shaded. The biggest feature on her face, however, was her abnormally large nose. Really, it was huge. But the hideousness of her attire outweighed the monstrosity that was her nose. She wore a black pencil skirt that fell to her knees, dark pantyhose, black penny loafers, and a t-shirt…with a horse on it. It wasn’t like a semi-hip screened shirt with an American Eagle logo on it. It was a neon pink t-shirt, with a horse printed right in the middle of it, full of rainbow colors and sparkles. It looked like something Kurt’s six-year-old cousin Katie would wear. And who paired penny loafers and a skirt with a t-shirt?
“Hi Rachel,” Blaine said, smiling, though Kurt could tell it was fake by the pain in his eyes, “How are you?”
“I’m just great, Blaine, thank you! You know, I actually got my acceptance letter from Juliard this morning. My dads had to pull some strings, but I’m in. Maybe we’ll have some classes together!”
“Actually, I’m not going,” Blaine mumbled, looking at his feet, “I’m going to Harvard.”
“Harvard?” Kurt asked, jaw dropping. Blaine just shrugged.
“And what about your friend here? Does he work for your dad?” Rachel asked, turning up her nose at Kurt.
“Actually, my name is Kurt, thank you very much,” Kurt said, stepping forward so that he towered over Rachel, “And I work for nobody. Also, I’m happy you got into Juliard. They really do let anyone in. Hell, I didn’t even apply, and they asked for me to attend.”
“Excuse me! I practically came out of my mother’s womb singing and dancing. The only reason I had trouble getting in is because I had trouble finding teachers to write recommendations. In my opinion, you don’t have the grace to be a dancer, and if your speaking voice is any indication, no wonder they didn’t let you in. They probably had a hard time deciding whether or not you were a tenor or a soprano!” Rachel said, crossing her arms.
“Counter-tenor, actually,” Kurt seethed.
“Well,” Rachel huffed, turning to Blaine, “I see no reason to stay around any longer. I have an audition for a local production of Sunset Boulevard this afternoon, and I need to perform my pre-audition yoga and vocal warm ups. I’ll see you around, Blaine.”
She waved in what she must have considered a flirty manner and pivoted on her heel, flouncing away and swishing from side to side as if she found herself sexy.
“Sorry about her,” Blaine said, sighing and rubbing the back of his neck. Kurt waved him off, laughing.
“Oh, don’t be! She was hilarious. Did you see how much gloss was on her lips? And that t-shirt was terrible!”
“Rachel’s my ex-girlfriend,” Blaine said, a solemn expression on his face as he watched Rachel’s retreating figure, “We went out for five months, and we broke up two weeks ago.”
“Oh,” Kurt said softly, “I didn’t know.”
“No, it’s fine,” Blaine said, shrugging, “She was a drag, and I’m glad to be rid of her.”
When he said that, though, Kurt didn’t believe it. There was something in the sad tone of his voice that suggested he wasn’t over her just yet, which meant that he was completely and utterly straight. All Kurt had needed was a confirmation, and here it was. How could he have been so stupid as to believe that their friendly walks and the time they spent together was anything more than a simple, platonic friendship? After all, that’s what two guys were supposed to have, not that Kurt would know. All of his close friends were girls.
“Hey, let’s go get some ice cream, my treat this time.” He said, trying to cheer Blaine up. His voice didn’t sound very convincing.
“Okay,” Blaine said, smiling halfheartedly.
***
“Hey, Kurt?” Blaine asked the next morning.
“Yeah?” Kurt sighed, looking over at Blaine, who sat on the porch steps while he crouched next to the bush, trying to get Pavarotti to come to his finger.
Blaine was fooling around with his guitar, and he was really good. He played some covers of some classics, and even some originals, which he insisted were terrible, though Kurt assured him that they were awesome, and they were. None of Kurt’s musically talented friends were songwriters, at least not good ones. Blaine, though, wrote amazing songs that were cute and romantic, and half of his assurance that they were great was probably fuelled by his love of Blaine’s buttery voice. Kurt didn’t think that voice could get any more irresistible, until Blaine had started singing ‘Somewhere Only We Know’ by Keane.
It had only gotten worse with all of the love songs he’d launched into, not even realizing Kurt’s face, which had gotten full of color after he’d realized that Blaine was singing love songs to him. It might not have been personal, but it tugged his heartstrings, and made the ache inside a little bit worse once he thought of the night before. He knew it didn’t really matter; he’d known Blaine was straight. Somehow, though, if still bummed him out.
“Let’s go to the boardwalk early today.” Blaine said, smiling and getting up.