If You Would; Part One
if you would come back home ~ william fitzsimmons
There's room between your heart
And the chair where I've been sleeping
The place that we called home
Will someday watch you leaving
There's room between today
And the last time that I saw you
The pictures in my brain
Will fade until I lose you
If you would come back home
We could start all over
If you would come back home
I swear it would be better
There's room left in the house
There's food still in the pantry
I could fix you lunch
Or take you out for coffee
If you would come back home
We could start all over
If you would come back home
I swear it would be better
Call the surgeon (if you would come back home)
Mend the pieces (if you would come back home)
"Kurt!" Kurt looked up from his computer at the sound of his dad shouting up the stairs. AIM flashed at him from the bottom corner, but he ignored it. It was probably just Rachel wanting to plan the weekly New Directions musical night, claiming it an opportunity to get to know each other better (because being in the same club for two years hadn't done that) and increase their knowledge of the same three musicals. "There's a letter for you!"
"Who from?" Kurt called back, opening the door and stepping out into the hallway. Burt was standing at the bottom of the stairs, a brown envelope in his hands. He squinted down at it for a moment before he looked up again.
"That college of yours." At that announcement, Kurt bounded down the stairs, not even caring about the way he almost caught his feet on the loose patch of carpet on the third step, or the way he almost barreled into his dad. As soon as Burt handed over the envelope, he tore it open, tugging out the paper inside. His hands shook, and the paper crumpled beneath them. Burt stayed silent for a few moments, watching as Kurt's eyes skimmed the paper. "What does it say, Kurt?" he asked, when it seemed Kurt was taking too long.
Kurt's stomach flipped, his heart pounding in his chest as he read the letter. The words weren't sinking in; he'd had to read one sentence three times. But there it was, the word he needed to see more than anything. Accepted.
When he looked back up, Carole and Finn were standing behind Burt. They were all smiling, but it was a nervous smile, one that could change into a frown too quickly. He bit his lip as he looked at them before breaking into a wide grin that strained the muscles in his cheeks and turning the letter round to face them.
"I got in!" Cheers rang out in the foyer from all of them so loud that he had to struggle to be heard. "If I graduate, they'll take me!"
"We knew you'd do it!" Carole was beaming as Burt clapped Kurt around the shoulders. Both of their eyes shone, and Carole was already sniffing back tears. Behind them, Finn was giving him two thumbs up and smiling just as widely. "They'd be crazy not to let you in!"
"I have to go and tell Blaine," Kurt said when they all stopped hugging and clapping him on the back. He stared down at the creased and crumpled letters he still had clenched in his hands. His stomach was still flip flopping, his heart still pounding. "Thank you," he added as he raced back up the stairs, almost tripping on the same step he'd almost fallen on before.
"It's going to be weird with him in London," he heard Finn say once he'd reached the top of the stairs. "Nobody will yell at me for pointing my fork at people over dinner or for leaving wet towels on the bathroom floor."
Kurt bounced slightly as he tapped out the message to Blaine. He'd tried out a few versions, his thumb quickly erasing each as he realized that none of them were right. It felt wrong to tell him by text, so he'd tried asking Blaine to call, but that had felt just as bad. He tapped the phone against his chin, screwing up his nose as he tried to think of the right words to tell his boyfriend that he would be leaving for at least a year, four if he was lucky, for a completely different continent. Blaine had mentioned so many times how hard another state would be, and here he was with an acceptance to a school in London that he was never going to turn down. How many ways were there to say that, and still seem understanding that it was a bit of a big bombshell?
With a sigh, Kurt looked down at the screen again and finally tapped out a message. Come and see me? I've got some news. ~K xo, it read. It was as good as it was going to get. At least he hadn't used that one horrible phrase that struck fear into the hearts of those who came across it. We need to talk. He still had nightmares of the lone time Blaine had said that to him. He'd driven to Dalton with his hands shaking only to be told that Blaine was going away on vacation for a week over Christmas. He still maintained that slapping Blaine hadn't been an overreaction.
A few hours later, Burt called up the stairs for Kurt again. This time the call was followed by the noise of someone hurrying up the stairs, and then Blaine's typical, obscenely polite knock on the door.
"I came as soon as I could," he said before he'd even got into the room. Blaine's eyebrows were furrowed and his cardigan wasn't even buttoned, but he grinned as Kurt stood up to greet him. All of his potential questions were silenced as they kissed, but Blaine was soon pulling away and staring at Kurt with his best sincere, caring expression. "What's your news?" he asked. He kept a hand on Kurt's hip, his thumb rubbing lightly against Kurt's shirt.
"I got a letter from Central Saint Martin’s today," Kurt said, grinning at Blaine. He gestured to the envelope, and the letter that sat on it. Blaine glanced over for a moment, before looking back to Kurt.
"What did they say? You don't seem prepared to hang yourself with your Michael Kors tie-dye scarf so I'm going to bet on good news?" Blaine's gaze was intense, focused entirely on Kurt like he was waiting to see whether or not his boyfriend would be breaking out one of his scarves and this was all an elaborate ruse.
"Dip dye," Kurt corrected more out of habit than anything. "They accepted me." He felt like his face was going to split in half, and he wasn't even thinking about whether or his teeth were showing for once. There was a pause. He felt his grin start to fall, becoming more of an awkward half-smile while he waited for a reaction, any reaction. Blaine's face flickered for a moment before he seemed to force that familiar wide smile onto it.
"That's amazing," he murmured, pulling Kurt into a tight hug. Kurt felt Blaine's hands clench in the back of his shirt. "Well done. I'm proud of you." He held Kurt for a moment before he pulled away. He kept his hands on Kurt's side, but seemed to make sure the distance between them was perfect. This time, Kurt noticed Blaine didn't hide his expression behind his usual mask, but simply looked at Kurt. "I feel kind of selfish for asking right now, I mean, you just got into your dream school, but...what does this mean for us?"
"I was hoping there'd still be an us," Kurt replied, frowning now. Of course, he thought. He should have expected this conversation. They should have spoken about the “ifs” long before he got the acceptance letter. "I'll understand if you don't want to, but...."
"I want to," Blaine said hurriedly, resting his hands on Kurt's sides. He pulled away to look Kurt straight in the eye, managing a small smile. "We can make it work, somehow."
Kurt smiled at that. He moved into the space between them, reaching forward to button up Blaine's sweater. "It won't be easy." Blaine nodded. Their height difference was almost non-existent, just a scant few inches, but he seemed to slouch over, losing his usual impeccable posture just to look up into Kurt's eyes.
"I know, but we can try. We can make rules, and... I don't know, we'll Google it and see what other people do." He leaned forward to press a kiss to Kurt's forehead. He lingered for a few moments, his breath brushing against Kurt's hairline before he pulled away and smiled again. "I don't want to lose you."
"You won't," Kurt breathed, entwining their hands and squeezing. "Ever."
~*~
June, and Graduation, came and went faster than Kurt had ever thought possible. It seemed that the past thirteen years had been moving at a snail's pace, but suddenly everything had sped up. All that was left between him and London were two months that felt like they were going to drag on endlessly. Such time was, in his opinion, both a blessing and a curse. A curse, because he couldn't wait to be in London, doing the thing he loved doing, the thing he wanted to spend the rest of his life doing. On the other hand, the time off was a blessing because he wasn't looking forward to leaving Blaine. Kurt would be leaving behind the person he loved, the person he wanted to spend the rest of his life with.
There had been a few moments, late at night when he was trying and failing to sleep, when he'd considered not going, considered finding a school in America. Those times, he'd always sent Blaine a desperate text, regardless of the time. Every time, Blaine called him back less than five minutes later and stayed up with Kurt, always speaking in calm and soothing tones until he stopped freaking out.
Leaving his friends and family, especially his family, was going to be hard enough. But he knew, unconditionally, that there was no real chance of him losing them while he was away - barring any emergencies he didn't want to think about. On the other hand, losing his relationship with Blaine was a real possibility. He had to do a foundation course before he could move onto university properly. If luck was in his favor, and he got to stay at Central Saint Martins for the course as well as the foundation course, he'd be in England for four years. Four years away from your boyfriend could be too much in the end.
He had faith in their relationship; he knew they were strong together. He had faith in Blaine, and he had faith in himself, but that didn't necessarily mean it would work. This wasn't a two week vacation, this was years in completely different places.
Over the summer, he spent most of his time with Blaine. Occasionally Mercedes and Tina tagged along, but they were busy getting ready to head off to their own respective colleges - Mercedes in Chicago, Tina to Sacramento. Kurt had to pretend he wasn't jealous of Tina for being so much closer to Blaine than he would be. He rarely even saw Finn, who was too busy being dragged around everywhere by Rachel, who was heading off to New York for college. Finn was going to stay in Ohio, and the two of them had already decided that they would end their relationship come September.
Kurt didn't mind too much though. He was entirely aware that he was going to regret seeing his friends so little, but, in a way he hated thinking about, he knew he'd rather regret not seeing them than regret not seeing Blaine. He didn't even care what he and Blaine did just so long as they did something - just so long as they were together.
~*~
Summer was ending. Kurt was holed up at home because everyone seemed to be busy, and there was a thunderstorm brewing that he didn't want to get caught in. Blaine was supposed to be coming over, but he was already thirty minutes late.
He looked up from his laptop, where the third version of his to-do list - which seemed to have grown since the first version - was open in the corner of the screen, when the door cracked open. He smiled when Blaine peered round the door, holding up the spare key from under the door mat.
"I knocked about four times," he said, placing the key on the desk before leaning down to kiss Kurt. The kiss lasted longer than usual, and somehow felt oddly bittersweet when they finally pulled away. "Sorry I'm late. I was packing and lost track of time." Kurt just shrugged and moved further over on the bed, making space for Blaine to sit next to him. They leaned back against the headboard, nothing touching save for their legs pressed against each other.
"You should've called, I'd have come and helped. I'm sure I've reached expert status now." Blaine didn't say anything in response, simply running his fingers against the seam on Kurt's jeans. "Are you excited about LA?"
"I guess," Blaine said. He stared down at his fingers for a moment then nudged his shoulder into Kurt's. Kurt nudged back, pushing the laptop off his legs and onto the bedcovers. "It'd be better with you there."
"I'd hate LA." Kurt smiled, trying to lighten the mood. He took Blaine's hand, his fingers tracing the lines of the palm, and Blaine squirmed. He didn't tug his hand away, despite how much he seemed to hate the sensation. "Can you imagine my skin exposed to its obscene amount of sun?"
"I thought red was your color." Kurt rolled his eyes at that, moving to rest an arm on Blaine's shoulders. His fingers twisted in Blaine's ungelled curls, tugging on them lightly.
"I'll really miss you," he sighed, leaning sideways to rest his head on Blaine's shoulder. The position was awkward, and just a little bit painful, but he didn't move. Blaine's arms wrapped around him, crossing and linking at his side. Kurt knew that, in a few minutes, one of their arms would get tingly and they'd have to move, but he didn't care. He felt close, comfortable, and actually sure of things for the first time since he'd been accepted to university.
"It'll be okay," Blaine replied. "You'll be back in a few months for Christmas anyway. Have you tested whether Skype works properly on your laptop yet?" Kurt nodded. "Good. We'll talk every night."
"The time difference will make it difficult," Kurt pointed out. There were eight hours between LA and London, he'd checked almost as soon as it had occurred to him. "My night will be your early afternoon."
"I'll make time for you, always." Blaine shifted, leaning his head against Kurt's. “I'll skip lunch or rush home or stay up until stupidly late in the morning just to talk to you. You're more important.”
Outside, rain began to beat against the house, and a crack of thunder echoed in the sky. At that moment, Kurt knew their relationship would work. He knew it wouldn't be easy, but he knew that everything would be okay in the end.
Kurt stepped through the doors and into arrivals. His two extremely heavy suitcases trundled behind him, making it irritatingly difficult to navigate around the waiting people, kissing couples, and the occasional dog. Why did people even bring their dogs to arrivals? Who thought that was anything close to a good idea?
He kept his eyes up, looking for the sign he knew would be there, as he'd organized weeks ago. To one side, in line with so many other people, stood a man holding a placard with his name on. With a sigh of relief that he wouldn't have to wait or worry about trying to find someone in this mess, he headed towards the man.
"Hi," he said, smiling awkwardly and trying to resist the urge to sit down. His entire body was exhausted even though he'd been sitting down for hours, cramped into a space that was far too small for anyone except a small child.
"Kurt Hummel?" The man glanced down at his placard and back up again. "Great, you're the only one I've got to wait for, so we can be heading off. I'm Fred, by the way. Doesn't make sense for me to know your name and you not know mine."
Fred navigated the crowd with an ease Kurt was jealous of. He moved quickly enough that they didn't get stuck behind people, but not so quick that Kurt couldn't keep up with his suitcases. Fred had even offered to take one, or Kurt's bag that was banging awkwardly against his hip, but Kurt had shaken his head. He could manage, just so long as they got past the random children who appeared out of nowhere, seemingly intent on tripping him up.
"How was the trip?" Fred asked as they got out into the parking lot. Kurt rubbed at his eyes and laughed. It was a tired laugh, one edging too close to bitter. A laugh that, Kurt couldn't help but think, would have had Blaine rubbing his shoulders and murmuring the lyrics to whatever song he could think of in his ear. Before Blaine, Kurt had never thought any of Ke$ha's songs could be soothing.
"Awful." He heaved his suitcases into the back of the van, with some assistance from Fred. When the sliding door at the side had been opened, he placed his bag onto the seat before clambering in after it. The door slammed shut, causing him to jump slightly. He waited for Fred to get into the driver's seat before continuing. "There was a crying baby, the person in front of me refused to respect the fact that I actually have legs, and so much turbulence. It was completely ridiculous."
Fred smiled at that, glancing at Kurt in the rearview mirror, before turning back to the lot. The radio was on, but quiet and Kurt strained to hear what it was saying. It was the weather report, and all that seemed to be forecasted was rain. He glanced out the window, and could believe the prediction. The sky was a muggy grey, one that predicted endless, driveling rain.
"Welcome to England, eh?" Fred nodded at the radio, and Kurt forced a smile. "Don't you worry, lad. The halls you're in are real nice. There are just a couple of other people in at the moment, so you'll be able to catch up on your sleep." Kurt smiled again, before resting his head against the window. Soon enough, despite the vibrating and the way his head constantly knocked against the glass, he was fast asleep.
He was woken by a shaking on his arm, and when he blinked himself awake, he saw Fred standing beside the open door, all of Kurt's cases already on the sidewalk.
"We're here, lad. I've already got someone coming down to help you with those. You don't want to haul them up the stairs and the lift's buggered."
"Thank you." This time he smiled genuinely as he put his bag on his shoulders. Fred shook his head before clapping Kurt on the back with a murmured good luck and a smile. Kurt turned back to the door of the building, trying to coordinate himself and figure out how he was going to drag the cases up to it without killing himself when the doors burst open. It was ridiculously dramatic, and part of Kurt expected Rachel to come bursting through, already singing or dictating what song they should sing. He smiled faintly and looked back down at his suitcases. Of course it would take an entire continent to make him want to see Rachel.
"Kurt?" The person asked, and Kurt looked up. It definitely wasn't Rachel. The speaker was a guy, a fairly good-looking guy, wearing one of the most fabulous jackets Kurt had ever seen. Turquoise and military style with what looked like silver lining. Everything pointed to it being something Mercedes would wear, and therefore something all kinds of tacky, but it worked. It worked in the same way his favorite cricketer tie worked - senselessly but fabulously. "Are you Kurt Hummel?"
"The one and only," Kurt smiled. He held out a hand, waiting for the other guy to take it. He didn't. He completely ignored the gesture and wrapped an arm around Kurt's shoulder, despite the awkward distance the suitcases between them enforced. Kurt stiffened, but the guy didn't seem to notice. With his smile now slightly forced, he stepped back, extracting himself from the grip with relative ease and raised an eyebrow. "And you are?"
"Nick." The guy - Nick - smiled and wrapped a hand around the handles of the suitcase and hauled it up with a grunt. "Jesus, this is heavy.” He glared down at the suitcase before looking back at Kurt. “Come on, you're on the fourth floor with me. Hope you've got more muscle mass than it looks like you have because this is not going to be fun." Kurt sniffed at that and picked up the other bags without any noise and followed Nick, who was already trying to force the door open with his shoulder.
~*~
"Where did you get that jacket?" Kurt asked as they climbed the third set of stairs. Nick was definitely struggling; he was panting and swearing under his breath every other step. Every time they reached a landing, he would stop and lean against the wall, muttering loudly about how he really hadn't signed up for anything more physically exerting than lifting a pencil. Kurt would just wait, inspecting the walls of each floor as Nick got his breath. They were all decorated with art - murals, paintings, photographs. He supposed he shouldn't be surprised; it was the residence halls of an art school, after all.
"Stole it from a girl who lives here. You'll meet her soon, I guess. She's in the flat next to ours. I don't know who else is in ours." Nick looked over his shoulder and narrowed his eyes at Kurt. "I can't believe you're not tired. You look like a weed. I'm sorry, but you do. How the hell are you not tired?"
"I was in Glee club." He'd spent so long bitching with everyone about how awful Mr. Schue's dance routines were - he still twitched whenever he heard the words 'step, ball, change, and clap' - but it seemed like they had actually been good for something.
"I don't even know what that is.” Nick frowned. He stopped again when they reached the landing. Kurt only narrowly avoided smacking into his back. “Right, this is our floor. They said they'll get the lift sorted before term actually starts, so hopefully we'll never have to do that again.” They walked down the hallway together with Nick still babbling on. “We're in a flat with five other students - none of them are here yet. Solo bedrooms, which is a fucking godsend, let me tell you. En-suite bathrooms too, so don't worry about having to share with some numpty who doesn't know the concept of cleanliness. We just have to share the kitchen and all that shit. There's a common room downstairs too with a fucking great T.V. This is all in the information pack, but you know.”
Kurt nodded, he already knew all that - he'd had to apply for the room after all - and waited for Nick to unlock the door to their flat. It was fairly big, which was understandable considering he'd be sharing with six other people.
“Go ahead and choose whichever room you want. I'm a firm believer in first come, first serve. Mine's that one -” Nick gestured to a door on the far side of the room. “They're kind of all the same but you know, the girl next door, Isabel, said she chose her room because of the vibes and maybe you're into that. I won't judge.” Nick had dumped Kurt's suitcase by the door, and Kurt did the same. He headed for the room next to Nick's first, and peered in.
It wasn't anything special, like he'd suspected, but it was nice, if a bit on the small side. Most of the space was taken by a desk and a bed, both of which lined opposite walls. The bed was under the window, with about three feet of space separating it from the desk and chair. On the far wall was a door which he opened to reveal the bathroom. It was also tiny, but with enough space for his things and decent lighting.
“I'll take this one,” He said, stepping out into the main room. Nick looked up from the fridge, which he was perusing with what seemed to be his normal attitude of 'swear quietly at everything,' and raised his eyebrows. Kurt shrugged. That room was decent and he doubted any of the other rooms had any amazing properties.
“Do you need any help unpacking your shit?” Nick asked, opening a bottle of milk to sniff at it. “I can help. There's really nothing else to do right now.”
“I'm going to get some sleep and unpack later.” He picked up his suitcases again, dragging them to his room and pushing them just inside the doorway. “Thanks, though.”
“Anytime, mate,” Nick called out just before Kurt shut the door. “But you owe me for helping with your bloody suitcases!”
When Kurt woke up, it was to the sound of Nick talking loudly directly outside his door. He groaned and tried to resist the urge to drag the covers over his head to block the noise out. Everything still ached, including his eyes, which felt like they were burning every time he attempted to open them against the bright light coming in from the window.
“I think he's still asleep,” he heard Nick say. “Maybe he's got jet lag or something.”
“Or maybe he's just avoiding you,” said a second voice. It was more feminine and more accented. “Anyone with sense would.” With a smile, Kurt pushed himself out of the bed. He grabbed the pair of trousers he'd folded over the back of the chair and pulled them on, shortly followed by his shirt.
“I'm awake,” he called as he stepped into the bathroom to fix his hair. It was a mess - the sort of mess that can only happen after a few hours of sleep - but he had no idea which suitcase his hairspray was in. With a sigh, he pushed his hair into place the best he could and went to open the door to his room.
On the other side stood Nick and a woman who could easily rival Finn, height-wise. Nick grinned when Kurt opened the door, but the woman just waved awkwardly.
“This is Isabel,” Nick said, pointing at the woman. Kurt took a moment to look at her. She was, as he'd noticed before, ridiculously tall. She easily towered over the both of them, and he doubted it'd be any different without the wedge Doc Martens she was wearing. Her legs seemed endless in the bondage shorts she was wearing. “She's the one I stole the jacket off.”
“Is it cropped when you wear it?” Kurt asked. Isabel snorted at that. She smiled down at Kurt - which made him feel like a child in a way that Finn never managed to do - before she spoke.
“We're going out to get some food and go for a few drinks, and wanted to know if you wanted to come,” she said, gesturing widely with her hands as she spoke. Kurt opened his mouth to turn them down, as all he wanted to do was sleep for the next century, but his stomach growled. Loudly.
“That's a yes then, unless you want to eat bread and butter tonight. Because that's all we have.” Nick was grinning like Kurt coming out for dinner with them was the greatest thing he could think of at that moment. “Right well, meet us out here in like, an hour?” He looked up at Isabel and frowned. “Apparently she needs that long to get ready.” Kurt raised an eyebrow.
“See you,” Kurt said with a smile before he shut the door and sighed. Now he actually had to go through his suitcases and figure out what was where and how much damage had been done in the form of impossible-to-get-out creases.
The first thing Kurt noticed when he'd finally appeared from inside his room was that Isabel was wearing much higher heels. That, and Nick was running his hands all over her skirt with an incredibly confused expression.
“You look great,” Isabel said, seemingly unfazed by Nick's fascination with her clothes. “Marc Jacobs?” Kurt nodded, hands tugging at the end of his shirt in a last-ditch attempt to get rid of the creases he knew were still there. “As soon as this pleb stops being amazed by fabric, we can go.” She reached out to smack Nick about the head before turning back to Kurt. “We were thinking Indian. Any objections?”
“I've never had it, so...” Kurt raised an eyebrow on the matching expressions on Isabel and Nick's faces. They both seemed mildly bemused, with matching frowns.
“How?” Isabel shook her head as she shoved Nick away from her skirt and picked up her bag. “America is so weird.”
Dinner had gone well. Half the menu was practically gobbledigook to Kurt, but they'd ended up ordering a few different dishes to share between them and everything was delicious.
As they'd walked to the restaurant, Kurt had realized that this was where he was supposed to be. Maybe not London itself - even though it was an amazing city, if a little insane and with a slight stench to it (which Isabel insisted came from the Thames and Nick insisted came from the homeless people), but a big city; a big city with culture and so many types of people.
Everything was different compared to Ohio. Simply walking down the street was different. Everyone was unique and themselves. It felt amazing to be with people who didn't worry about popularity or fitting in. As much as he loved his friends back home, Kurt knew that that was always in the back of their minds. It was in the back of his mind, but in a different way; it had never been about fitting in at McKinley or in Lima. He had always been concerned about fitting in with people like him, in a place he could connect with.
That was what London offered, and it was intense. The thought made his heart beat faster and his face burn with the effort of smiling for so long. He was fairly sure Nick and Isabel thought him insane, but he couldn't bring himself to care.
He was somewhere he belonged, for the first time in his life.
After dinner, they'd gone to a bar for drinks. Of course, Isabel and Nick had seemed surprised and confused again when they'd found out he'd never really drank before, both because he wasn't legal to back at home and because really, he'd seen the effects on his friends enough times. Felt them himself, even, after the April Rhodes incident he’d tried his hardest to forget. He didn't want to end up stripping or making out with anything and everything, or anything Rachel ended up doing whenever somebody gave her alcohol and told her drinking would make her popular.
Nick and Isabel had been nice, thankfully. There was no pressure to drink; they just got him a glass of wine and swapped it for a bottle of water when he'd left it alone after a couple of sips. There were no mentions of the word 'loser' and how much of a 'geek' he was- they hadn't even said anything when Kurt mentioned wanting to go back to the halls after only a few drinks. Nick mumbled about his drink, but he was already half out of his seat and pulling his jacket on.
~*~
When Kurt got back to the halls, after having turned down more time with Isabel and Nick with a well-timed yawn, he settled down on his bed, which was tiny in comparison to the bed he had back home. Every time he stretched out a (fairly short, it wasn't like he was tall) limb, he'd either smack the wall or almost fall off the bed. When he reached for his laptop, he almost tumbled off, and only managed to catch himself by clinging onto the side of the bed and practically hauling himself upwards.
Kurt settled back against the single pillow as he waited for his laptop to start up and for Skype to open automatically. He rubbed at his face, knowing he should get up, find his face products and tone, cleanse, moisturize- everything his face needed to actually look vaguely nice. His body felt so heavy though; he forced his eyes to stay open by staring at the bright light of the screen, humming under his breath to try and keep himself awake.
“If Blaine's not online, I'll get up and do my face,” he said to the room at large. “If Blaine's online, I'll tell him to remind me when I go offline.” As he finished his sentence, Skype opened with its usual irritating noise. Before he could even get his contact list open (which contained most everyone in New Directions, plus Burt and Carole. Burt was only online when Carole reminded him to be, however), Blaine's name popped up. It was followed by the also irritating ringing noise.
“Hey,” he said when he could finally hear muffled sounds coming from his speakers. Blaine's webcam was still loading, but he was sure Blaine could see him in all his jet-lagged, half-asleep glory. He ran a hand through his hair, definitely making it look worse than it already did, and couldn't bring himself to care.
“You look exhausted.” Kurt grinned at Blaine's voice. He leaned forward, as if getting closer to the screen would bring him closer to Blaine. As he did, the webcam finally loaded and he could see him. Unlike Kurt, Blaine looked refreshed. He was still at home, in his bedroom, lounging across the bed, laying on his side and looking at the laptop. Light streamed in from the windows.
Kurt's chest burned as he realized that more than anything, no matter how amazing London was, he wanted to be back home. He wanted to be curled up beside Blaine, talking about nothing and tracing the stripes of his t-shirt with his fingers. He wanted to be lounging in the sun with Blaine; not alone in a tiny bed, desperate for sleep but desperate to stay awake.
“Kurt? Are you okay?” Trust Blaine to see tiny shifts in Kurt's expression on a ridiculously pixelated image. “Did something happen?”
“Don't worry,” Kurt soothed, forcing the smile from before back into his face. “I'm just tired.” Blaine nodded, propping his head up on his head and smiling back at Kurt.
“I miss you. I tried to call you earlier to see if you wanted to go and get coffee before I realized you're not here.” Kurt felt a sob well in his chest at the admission. The air caught in his throat and he coughed. He couldn't cry, he couldn't cry, he could not cry. Not now, not in front of Blaine.
But that was the problem, wasn't it? He couldn't do anything in front of Blaine- everything had to be across the internet.
“I miss you too.” He tried to ignore the sound of his choked voice. He hoped it would just sound like a glitch on the sound or something to Blaine, but he saw the small frown on Blaine's face. “I'm fine, really.”
“Promise?” Blaine's voice was barely audible from the speakers. It reminded Kurt of sitting with him, whispering things to each other that didn't really need to be whispered. He nodded and tried to regain that feeling he'd had earlier; the feeling that made his chest swell with happiness and his face ache. “How's London then?”
“It's amazing,” Kurt said. He was grateful for the change in subject, grateful for Blaine and his unerring ability to know just what Kurt needed. “I think you'd like it here.”
“Maybe I can come and visit you.” Kurt watched as Blaine pushed himself into a sitting position before he replied.
“You should.” He nodded as he spoke, still struggling to keep himself from falling asleep. No matter what time his body seemed to think it was, the exhaustion was really trying to drag him down. “We can go to the British Museum. Isabel was talking about it; I think you'd like it.”
“Who's Isabel?” The sound distorted for a moment, making Blaine's voice sound robotic. The webcam froze, pausing on Blaine's expression in the strangest moment. Again, the want, need to be there with him welled in Kurt.
“One of the people who'll be in my classes. She wants to go into performance makeup though, not fashion.”
“I'm glad you're not alone.” Kurt smiled at that. He couldn't help himself from reaching out and touching the screen, from running his fingers over the too small image of Blaine.
“There's Nick too,” he said as he pulled his hand away. “He helped me with my bags when I got here.”
The conversation gradually turned to the mundane things. They talked about the weather, about food, about the sort of things that crossed their minds during silence. For both of them, it felt strange to let silence take over when they weren't together to communicate through touches. In the moments of silence, it was awkward like it had been at the beginning. It wasn't something either of them really wanted to relive with the distance between them.
As they spoke, Kurt could feel himself getting closer to sleep. He knew lying down was a bad idea when he did it, but the way he'd been sitting before had made his back ache. Besides, he was sure Blaine would find a way to wake him if he noticed Kurt had fallen asleep.
~*~
When Kurt woke up, he realized a couple of things. Firstly, light streamed in through his window and straight into his eyes. Secondly, his laptop was still on and dangerously close to the edge of the bed. Thirdly, his skin felt horrible. As he moved, he felt the skin on his face stretch awkwardly and knew he was going to pay for falling asleep without moisturizing properly.
He hit the on button on his laptop, forcing it out of hibernation and smiled when he saw the last few messages from Blaine.
[01:38:02] Blaine Anderson: Kurt?
[01:38:08] Blaine Anderson: Have you fallen asleep?
[01:38:10] Blaine Anderson: You look adorable.
[01:38:39] Blaine Anderson: I'd wake you up, but you looked exhausted. You need to sleep.
[01:38:45] Blaine Anderson: I'll talk to you tomorrow
[01:38:48] Blaine Anderson: I love you x
With a sigh, he signed out of Skype and pushed himself off of the bed. He'd fallen asleep in his clothes from the day before, belt included. He was sure the skin on his stomach was bruised from the buckle digging in and that the creases would never come out of one of his favorite shirts, but somehow he couldn't find it in himself to care.
It seemed wrong. He'd left everything for a fashion course and now that he was there, he couldn't find it in himself to care about fashion. He resisted the urge to run a hand through his hair as he walked to the bathroom, already stripping off his clothes as he went. Deep down, he knew how much of a life changing experience this could be. America had amazing schools for fashion, but London was the home of so many of the greats, and all of his idols. It was like something inside of him knew he needed to be there to grow and learn. He knew all that, but he couldn't bring himself to appreciate it. Not when everything he loved and kept him together was so far away.
The shower was pitiful - the water lukewarm and barely more than a trickle - and didn't help with the unending pangs of homesickness, but it did help to wake him up. Going through the familiar motions helped calm him while the water forced him awake.
“You'll get over this,” he said out loud to his reflection. His skin was, predictably, having somewhat of a minor freak out but he'd had worse. “You have to get over this. It's a waste of everyone’s time and money to come here and then bitch about how you miss home.”
The talk seemed to work. He could feel the pressure in his chest lightening as he went through his routine. Everything seemed a little less dark, more like he would actually manage to get through this. He only had to get through to December, just three months, and he'd be back home for almost a month.
He smiled as he ran a cotton pad over his face. He needed to learn to think in months, not years, and he could get through.
~*~
The weeks passed in the blink of an eye. The dorms seemed to fill up quickly, with new people arriving every day. Soon, the flat was constantly filled with the noise of five other students and the halls outside were even louder.
The new people were nice, but everyone seemed to split off into their own group of friends quick enough. Nick and Isabel seemed to have latched onto Kurt, popping around to his room at any time of the day or night for a chat or to see if he wanted to go out somewhere. They showed him around London like they'd lived there all their lives - even though Kurt knew they were both from other parts of the country - and he didn't mind the way they rarely told him where they were going. Oddly enough, half the time it seemed to end in a trip to the London Eye which Nick was strangely obsessed with. Kurt himself was particularly fond of Brick Lane, which was less than five minutes away from the dorms.
Between spending his days around London and his nights forcing himself to stay awake to talk to Blaine, the start of classes crept up on him. He barely realized how close they were until Nick woke him up one morning, a cup of coffee in one hand and muttering about how they were going to be late if Kurt didn't get up right away.
He didn’t even leave the room as Kurt got dressed. Every time Kurt paused to inspect his outfit, Nick would sigh and swear and tap his foot against the floor. Kurt just continued ignoring him. It was his first day on a course in one of the best fashion schools in the world. He could hardly turn up in his sweatpants (there were times when comfort won over style, and those times were usually when Kurt was asleep) and an old T-Shirt, could he?
“Are you done?” Nick said as Kurt sprayed his hair into place and prayed to Gaga, Madonna, McQueen, whoever the hell would listen, that it stayed like that. “I’m going to blame you if we get yelled at on our first day, Kurt. And then I will kill you.”
“I’m done,” Kurt replied, happily ignoring everything else Nick said, pulling his satchel over his shoulder. It wasn’t his trusty Jack Georges bag - that one had finally died a graceful death after two years carting around everything at McKinley - but it was nice enough. Even if the buckles were a little too large and oddly placed.
It was ridiculous, he knew that, but staring at those buckles reminded him of Blaine. He’d tried to explain why they bothered him so much, and Blaine had sat there with his familiar patient smile and didn’t once phase into the blank expression everyone else would have ended up having. Buckles were making him want to crawl back into bed, or buy the first tickets home.
“Oi, Hummer,” Nick’s voice - and really annoying nickname for Kurt that earned Nick a patented bitch glare every time - snapped him out of it. “Hurry the fuck up. We don’t even have time to grab coffee. Get on your knees and hope that Isabel was nice enough to get us some.”
“You wish, Cornish.”
~*~
Isabel had gotten them coffee. She was standing outside the college somehow balancing the three cups, her bag, and a folder, all without falling over in her usual ridiculously high heels.
“You look fabulous, Kurt,” she said as she bent down to kiss him on the cheek and pass him his coffee. She just frowned at Nick when she passed him his, muttering something about his being late.
Together, the three of them wandered down the hall of the building. Kurt wasn’t particularly sure any of them knew where they were going, but Isabel seemed somewhat confident so he just made a point to follow her. Hopefully she did know, and they weren’t just going to end up walking around in circles for hours.
They did reach where they were supposed to be and they weren’t the only late ones, thankfully. They sat together, in between someone wearing far too much black and someone who apparently had never heard of bathing. Kurt had never felt so glad to be wedged in between people.
“Good morning, new students,” a woman said from the front of the room. She was, Kurt noticed, dressed fairly well; appropriately for her age, but still stylish. There wasn’t a vest, vaguely adorable bow, or tracksuit in sight. “Welcome to Central Saint Martin’s.”
~*~
part 2
There's room between your heart
And the chair where I've been sleeping
The place that we called home
Will someday watch you leaving
There's room between today
And the last time that I saw you
The pictures in my brain
Will fade until I lose you
If you would come back home
We could start all over
If you would come back home
I swear it would be better
There's room left in the house
There's food still in the pantry
I could fix you lunch
Or take you out for coffee
If you would come back home
We could start all over
If you would come back home
I swear it would be better
Call the surgeon (if you would come back home)
Mend the pieces (if you would come back home)
"Kurt!" Kurt looked up from his computer at the sound of his dad shouting up the stairs. AIM flashed at him from the bottom corner, but he ignored it. It was probably just Rachel wanting to plan the weekly New Directions musical night, claiming it an opportunity to get to know each other better (because being in the same club for two years hadn't done that) and increase their knowledge of the same three musicals. "There's a letter for you!"
"Who from?" Kurt called back, opening the door and stepping out into the hallway. Burt was standing at the bottom of the stairs, a brown envelope in his hands. He squinted down at it for a moment before he looked up again.
"That college of yours." At that announcement, Kurt bounded down the stairs, not even caring about the way he almost caught his feet on the loose patch of carpet on the third step, or the way he almost barreled into his dad. As soon as Burt handed over the envelope, he tore it open, tugging out the paper inside. His hands shook, and the paper crumpled beneath them. Burt stayed silent for a few moments, watching as Kurt's eyes skimmed the paper. "What does it say, Kurt?" he asked, when it seemed Kurt was taking too long.
Kurt's stomach flipped, his heart pounding in his chest as he read the letter. The words weren't sinking in; he'd had to read one sentence three times. But there it was, the word he needed to see more than anything. Accepted.
When he looked back up, Carole and Finn were standing behind Burt. They were all smiling, but it was a nervous smile, one that could change into a frown too quickly. He bit his lip as he looked at them before breaking into a wide grin that strained the muscles in his cheeks and turning the letter round to face them.
"I got in!" Cheers rang out in the foyer from all of them so loud that he had to struggle to be heard. "If I graduate, they'll take me!"
"We knew you'd do it!" Carole was beaming as Burt clapped Kurt around the shoulders. Both of their eyes shone, and Carole was already sniffing back tears. Behind them, Finn was giving him two thumbs up and smiling just as widely. "They'd be crazy not to let you in!"
"I have to go and tell Blaine," Kurt said when they all stopped hugging and clapping him on the back. He stared down at the creased and crumpled letters he still had clenched in his hands. His stomach was still flip flopping, his heart still pounding. "Thank you," he added as he raced back up the stairs, almost tripping on the same step he'd almost fallen on before.
"It's going to be weird with him in London," he heard Finn say once he'd reached the top of the stairs. "Nobody will yell at me for pointing my fork at people over dinner or for leaving wet towels on the bathroom floor."
Kurt bounced slightly as he tapped out the message to Blaine. He'd tried out a few versions, his thumb quickly erasing each as he realized that none of them were right. It felt wrong to tell him by text, so he'd tried asking Blaine to call, but that had felt just as bad. He tapped the phone against his chin, screwing up his nose as he tried to think of the right words to tell his boyfriend that he would be leaving for at least a year, four if he was lucky, for a completely different continent. Blaine had mentioned so many times how hard another state would be, and here he was with an acceptance to a school in London that he was never going to turn down. How many ways were there to say that, and still seem understanding that it was a bit of a big bombshell?
With a sigh, Kurt looked down at the screen again and finally tapped out a message. Come and see me? I've got some news. ~K xo, it read. It was as good as it was going to get. At least he hadn't used that one horrible phrase that struck fear into the hearts of those who came across it. We need to talk. He still had nightmares of the lone time Blaine had said that to him. He'd driven to Dalton with his hands shaking only to be told that Blaine was going away on vacation for a week over Christmas. He still maintained that slapping Blaine hadn't been an overreaction.
A few hours later, Burt called up the stairs for Kurt again. This time the call was followed by the noise of someone hurrying up the stairs, and then Blaine's typical, obscenely polite knock on the door.
"I came as soon as I could," he said before he'd even got into the room. Blaine's eyebrows were furrowed and his cardigan wasn't even buttoned, but he grinned as Kurt stood up to greet him. All of his potential questions were silenced as they kissed, but Blaine was soon pulling away and staring at Kurt with his best sincere, caring expression. "What's your news?" he asked. He kept a hand on Kurt's hip, his thumb rubbing lightly against Kurt's shirt.
"I got a letter from Central Saint Martin’s today," Kurt said, grinning at Blaine. He gestured to the envelope, and the letter that sat on it. Blaine glanced over for a moment, before looking back to Kurt.
"What did they say? You don't seem prepared to hang yourself with your Michael Kors tie-dye scarf so I'm going to bet on good news?" Blaine's gaze was intense, focused entirely on Kurt like he was waiting to see whether or not his boyfriend would be breaking out one of his scarves and this was all an elaborate ruse.
"Dip dye," Kurt corrected more out of habit than anything. "They accepted me." He felt like his face was going to split in half, and he wasn't even thinking about whether or his teeth were showing for once. There was a pause. He felt his grin start to fall, becoming more of an awkward half-smile while he waited for a reaction, any reaction. Blaine's face flickered for a moment before he seemed to force that familiar wide smile onto it.
"That's amazing," he murmured, pulling Kurt into a tight hug. Kurt felt Blaine's hands clench in the back of his shirt. "Well done. I'm proud of you." He held Kurt for a moment before he pulled away. He kept his hands on Kurt's side, but seemed to make sure the distance between them was perfect. This time, Kurt noticed Blaine didn't hide his expression behind his usual mask, but simply looked at Kurt. "I feel kind of selfish for asking right now, I mean, you just got into your dream school, but...what does this mean for us?"
"I was hoping there'd still be an us," Kurt replied, frowning now. Of course, he thought. He should have expected this conversation. They should have spoken about the “ifs” long before he got the acceptance letter. "I'll understand if you don't want to, but...."
"I want to," Blaine said hurriedly, resting his hands on Kurt's sides. He pulled away to look Kurt straight in the eye, managing a small smile. "We can make it work, somehow."
Kurt smiled at that. He moved into the space between them, reaching forward to button up Blaine's sweater. "It won't be easy." Blaine nodded. Their height difference was almost non-existent, just a scant few inches, but he seemed to slouch over, losing his usual impeccable posture just to look up into Kurt's eyes.
"I know, but we can try. We can make rules, and... I don't know, we'll Google it and see what other people do." He leaned forward to press a kiss to Kurt's forehead. He lingered for a few moments, his breath brushing against Kurt's hairline before he pulled away and smiled again. "I don't want to lose you."
"You won't," Kurt breathed, entwining their hands and squeezing. "Ever."
~*~
June, and Graduation, came and went faster than Kurt had ever thought possible. It seemed that the past thirteen years had been moving at a snail's pace, but suddenly everything had sped up. All that was left between him and London were two months that felt like they were going to drag on endlessly. Such time was, in his opinion, both a blessing and a curse. A curse, because he couldn't wait to be in London, doing the thing he loved doing, the thing he wanted to spend the rest of his life doing. On the other hand, the time off was a blessing because he wasn't looking forward to leaving Blaine. Kurt would be leaving behind the person he loved, the person he wanted to spend the rest of his life with.
There had been a few moments, late at night when he was trying and failing to sleep, when he'd considered not going, considered finding a school in America. Those times, he'd always sent Blaine a desperate text, regardless of the time. Every time, Blaine called him back less than five minutes later and stayed up with Kurt, always speaking in calm and soothing tones until he stopped freaking out.
Leaving his friends and family, especially his family, was going to be hard enough. But he knew, unconditionally, that there was no real chance of him losing them while he was away - barring any emergencies he didn't want to think about. On the other hand, losing his relationship with Blaine was a real possibility. He had to do a foundation course before he could move onto university properly. If luck was in his favor, and he got to stay at Central Saint Martins for the course as well as the foundation course, he'd be in England for four years. Four years away from your boyfriend could be too much in the end.
He had faith in their relationship; he knew they were strong together. He had faith in Blaine, and he had faith in himself, but that didn't necessarily mean it would work. This wasn't a two week vacation, this was years in completely different places.
Over the summer, he spent most of his time with Blaine. Occasionally Mercedes and Tina tagged along, but they were busy getting ready to head off to their own respective colleges - Mercedes in Chicago, Tina to Sacramento. Kurt had to pretend he wasn't jealous of Tina for being so much closer to Blaine than he would be. He rarely even saw Finn, who was too busy being dragged around everywhere by Rachel, who was heading off to New York for college. Finn was going to stay in Ohio, and the two of them had already decided that they would end their relationship come September.
Kurt didn't mind too much though. He was entirely aware that he was going to regret seeing his friends so little, but, in a way he hated thinking about, he knew he'd rather regret not seeing them than regret not seeing Blaine. He didn't even care what he and Blaine did just so long as they did something - just so long as they were together.
~*~
Summer was ending. Kurt was holed up at home because everyone seemed to be busy, and there was a thunderstorm brewing that he didn't want to get caught in. Blaine was supposed to be coming over, but he was already thirty minutes late.
He looked up from his laptop, where the third version of his to-do list - which seemed to have grown since the first version - was open in the corner of the screen, when the door cracked open. He smiled when Blaine peered round the door, holding up the spare key from under the door mat.
"I knocked about four times," he said, placing the key on the desk before leaning down to kiss Kurt. The kiss lasted longer than usual, and somehow felt oddly bittersweet when they finally pulled away. "Sorry I'm late. I was packing and lost track of time." Kurt just shrugged and moved further over on the bed, making space for Blaine to sit next to him. They leaned back against the headboard, nothing touching save for their legs pressed against each other.
"You should've called, I'd have come and helped. I'm sure I've reached expert status now." Blaine didn't say anything in response, simply running his fingers against the seam on Kurt's jeans. "Are you excited about LA?"
"I guess," Blaine said. He stared down at his fingers for a moment then nudged his shoulder into Kurt's. Kurt nudged back, pushing the laptop off his legs and onto the bedcovers. "It'd be better with you there."
"I'd hate LA." Kurt smiled, trying to lighten the mood. He took Blaine's hand, his fingers tracing the lines of the palm, and Blaine squirmed. He didn't tug his hand away, despite how much he seemed to hate the sensation. "Can you imagine my skin exposed to its obscene amount of sun?"
"I thought red was your color." Kurt rolled his eyes at that, moving to rest an arm on Blaine's shoulders. His fingers twisted in Blaine's ungelled curls, tugging on them lightly.
"I'll really miss you," he sighed, leaning sideways to rest his head on Blaine's shoulder. The position was awkward, and just a little bit painful, but he didn't move. Blaine's arms wrapped around him, crossing and linking at his side. Kurt knew that, in a few minutes, one of their arms would get tingly and they'd have to move, but he didn't care. He felt close, comfortable, and actually sure of things for the first time since he'd been accepted to university.
"It'll be okay," Blaine replied. "You'll be back in a few months for Christmas anyway. Have you tested whether Skype works properly on your laptop yet?" Kurt nodded. "Good. We'll talk every night."
"The time difference will make it difficult," Kurt pointed out. There were eight hours between LA and London, he'd checked almost as soon as it had occurred to him. "My night will be your early afternoon."
"I'll make time for you, always." Blaine shifted, leaning his head against Kurt's. “I'll skip lunch or rush home or stay up until stupidly late in the morning just to talk to you. You're more important.”
Outside, rain began to beat against the house, and a crack of thunder echoed in the sky. At that moment, Kurt knew their relationship would work. He knew it wouldn't be easy, but he knew that everything would be okay in the end.
Kurt stepped through the doors and into arrivals. His two extremely heavy suitcases trundled behind him, making it irritatingly difficult to navigate around the waiting people, kissing couples, and the occasional dog. Why did people even bring their dogs to arrivals? Who thought that was anything close to a good idea?
He kept his eyes up, looking for the sign he knew would be there, as he'd organized weeks ago. To one side, in line with so many other people, stood a man holding a placard with his name on. With a sigh of relief that he wouldn't have to wait or worry about trying to find someone in this mess, he headed towards the man.
"Hi," he said, smiling awkwardly and trying to resist the urge to sit down. His entire body was exhausted even though he'd been sitting down for hours, cramped into a space that was far too small for anyone except a small child.
"Kurt Hummel?" The man glanced down at his placard and back up again. "Great, you're the only one I've got to wait for, so we can be heading off. I'm Fred, by the way. Doesn't make sense for me to know your name and you not know mine."
Fred navigated the crowd with an ease Kurt was jealous of. He moved quickly enough that they didn't get stuck behind people, but not so quick that Kurt couldn't keep up with his suitcases. Fred had even offered to take one, or Kurt's bag that was banging awkwardly against his hip, but Kurt had shaken his head. He could manage, just so long as they got past the random children who appeared out of nowhere, seemingly intent on tripping him up.
"How was the trip?" Fred asked as they got out into the parking lot. Kurt rubbed at his eyes and laughed. It was a tired laugh, one edging too close to bitter. A laugh that, Kurt couldn't help but think, would have had Blaine rubbing his shoulders and murmuring the lyrics to whatever song he could think of in his ear. Before Blaine, Kurt had never thought any of Ke$ha's songs could be soothing.
"Awful." He heaved his suitcases into the back of the van, with some assistance from Fred. When the sliding door at the side had been opened, he placed his bag onto the seat before clambering in after it. The door slammed shut, causing him to jump slightly. He waited for Fred to get into the driver's seat before continuing. "There was a crying baby, the person in front of me refused to respect the fact that I actually have legs, and so much turbulence. It was completely ridiculous."
Fred smiled at that, glancing at Kurt in the rearview mirror, before turning back to the lot. The radio was on, but quiet and Kurt strained to hear what it was saying. It was the weather report, and all that seemed to be forecasted was rain. He glanced out the window, and could believe the prediction. The sky was a muggy grey, one that predicted endless, driveling rain.
"Welcome to England, eh?" Fred nodded at the radio, and Kurt forced a smile. "Don't you worry, lad. The halls you're in are real nice. There are just a couple of other people in at the moment, so you'll be able to catch up on your sleep." Kurt smiled again, before resting his head against the window. Soon enough, despite the vibrating and the way his head constantly knocked against the glass, he was fast asleep.
He was woken by a shaking on his arm, and when he blinked himself awake, he saw Fred standing beside the open door, all of Kurt's cases already on the sidewalk.
"We're here, lad. I've already got someone coming down to help you with those. You don't want to haul them up the stairs and the lift's buggered."
"Thank you." This time he smiled genuinely as he put his bag on his shoulders. Fred shook his head before clapping Kurt on the back with a murmured good luck and a smile. Kurt turned back to the door of the building, trying to coordinate himself and figure out how he was going to drag the cases up to it without killing himself when the doors burst open. It was ridiculously dramatic, and part of Kurt expected Rachel to come bursting through, already singing or dictating what song they should sing. He smiled faintly and looked back down at his suitcases. Of course it would take an entire continent to make him want to see Rachel.
"Kurt?" The person asked, and Kurt looked up. It definitely wasn't Rachel. The speaker was a guy, a fairly good-looking guy, wearing one of the most fabulous jackets Kurt had ever seen. Turquoise and military style with what looked like silver lining. Everything pointed to it being something Mercedes would wear, and therefore something all kinds of tacky, but it worked. It worked in the same way his favorite cricketer tie worked - senselessly but fabulously. "Are you Kurt Hummel?"
"The one and only," Kurt smiled. He held out a hand, waiting for the other guy to take it. He didn't. He completely ignored the gesture and wrapped an arm around Kurt's shoulder, despite the awkward distance the suitcases between them enforced. Kurt stiffened, but the guy didn't seem to notice. With his smile now slightly forced, he stepped back, extracting himself from the grip with relative ease and raised an eyebrow. "And you are?"
"Nick." The guy - Nick - smiled and wrapped a hand around the handles of the suitcase and hauled it up with a grunt. "Jesus, this is heavy.” He glared down at the suitcase before looking back at Kurt. “Come on, you're on the fourth floor with me. Hope you've got more muscle mass than it looks like you have because this is not going to be fun." Kurt sniffed at that and picked up the other bags without any noise and followed Nick, who was already trying to force the door open with his shoulder.
~*~
"Where did you get that jacket?" Kurt asked as they climbed the third set of stairs. Nick was definitely struggling; he was panting and swearing under his breath every other step. Every time they reached a landing, he would stop and lean against the wall, muttering loudly about how he really hadn't signed up for anything more physically exerting than lifting a pencil. Kurt would just wait, inspecting the walls of each floor as Nick got his breath. They were all decorated with art - murals, paintings, photographs. He supposed he shouldn't be surprised; it was the residence halls of an art school, after all.
"Stole it from a girl who lives here. You'll meet her soon, I guess. She's in the flat next to ours. I don't know who else is in ours." Nick looked over his shoulder and narrowed his eyes at Kurt. "I can't believe you're not tired. You look like a weed. I'm sorry, but you do. How the hell are you not tired?"
"I was in Glee club." He'd spent so long bitching with everyone about how awful Mr. Schue's dance routines were - he still twitched whenever he heard the words 'step, ball, change, and clap' - but it seemed like they had actually been good for something.
"I don't even know what that is.” Nick frowned. He stopped again when they reached the landing. Kurt only narrowly avoided smacking into his back. “Right, this is our floor. They said they'll get the lift sorted before term actually starts, so hopefully we'll never have to do that again.” They walked down the hallway together with Nick still babbling on. “We're in a flat with five other students - none of them are here yet. Solo bedrooms, which is a fucking godsend, let me tell you. En-suite bathrooms too, so don't worry about having to share with some numpty who doesn't know the concept of cleanliness. We just have to share the kitchen and all that shit. There's a common room downstairs too with a fucking great T.V. This is all in the information pack, but you know.”
Kurt nodded, he already knew all that - he'd had to apply for the room after all - and waited for Nick to unlock the door to their flat. It was fairly big, which was understandable considering he'd be sharing with six other people.
“Go ahead and choose whichever room you want. I'm a firm believer in first come, first serve. Mine's that one -” Nick gestured to a door on the far side of the room. “They're kind of all the same but you know, the girl next door, Isabel, said she chose her room because of the vibes and maybe you're into that. I won't judge.” Nick had dumped Kurt's suitcase by the door, and Kurt did the same. He headed for the room next to Nick's first, and peered in.
It wasn't anything special, like he'd suspected, but it was nice, if a bit on the small side. Most of the space was taken by a desk and a bed, both of which lined opposite walls. The bed was under the window, with about three feet of space separating it from the desk and chair. On the far wall was a door which he opened to reveal the bathroom. It was also tiny, but with enough space for his things and decent lighting.
“I'll take this one,” He said, stepping out into the main room. Nick looked up from the fridge, which he was perusing with what seemed to be his normal attitude of 'swear quietly at everything,' and raised his eyebrows. Kurt shrugged. That room was decent and he doubted any of the other rooms had any amazing properties.
“Do you need any help unpacking your shit?” Nick asked, opening a bottle of milk to sniff at it. “I can help. There's really nothing else to do right now.”
“I'm going to get some sleep and unpack later.” He picked up his suitcases again, dragging them to his room and pushing them just inside the doorway. “Thanks, though.”
“Anytime, mate,” Nick called out just before Kurt shut the door. “But you owe me for helping with your bloody suitcases!”
When Kurt woke up, it was to the sound of Nick talking loudly directly outside his door. He groaned and tried to resist the urge to drag the covers over his head to block the noise out. Everything still ached, including his eyes, which felt like they were burning every time he attempted to open them against the bright light coming in from the window.
“I think he's still asleep,” he heard Nick say. “Maybe he's got jet lag or something.”
“Or maybe he's just avoiding you,” said a second voice. It was more feminine and more accented. “Anyone with sense would.” With a smile, Kurt pushed himself out of the bed. He grabbed the pair of trousers he'd folded over the back of the chair and pulled them on, shortly followed by his shirt.
“I'm awake,” he called as he stepped into the bathroom to fix his hair. It was a mess - the sort of mess that can only happen after a few hours of sleep - but he had no idea which suitcase his hairspray was in. With a sigh, he pushed his hair into place the best he could and went to open the door to his room.
On the other side stood Nick and a woman who could easily rival Finn, height-wise. Nick grinned when Kurt opened the door, but the woman just waved awkwardly.
“This is Isabel,” Nick said, pointing at the woman. Kurt took a moment to look at her. She was, as he'd noticed before, ridiculously tall. She easily towered over the both of them, and he doubted it'd be any different without the wedge Doc Martens she was wearing. Her legs seemed endless in the bondage shorts she was wearing. “She's the one I stole the jacket off.”
“Is it cropped when you wear it?” Kurt asked. Isabel snorted at that. She smiled down at Kurt - which made him feel like a child in a way that Finn never managed to do - before she spoke.
“We're going out to get some food and go for a few drinks, and wanted to know if you wanted to come,” she said, gesturing widely with her hands as she spoke. Kurt opened his mouth to turn them down, as all he wanted to do was sleep for the next century, but his stomach growled. Loudly.
“That's a yes then, unless you want to eat bread and butter tonight. Because that's all we have.” Nick was grinning like Kurt coming out for dinner with them was the greatest thing he could think of at that moment. “Right well, meet us out here in like, an hour?” He looked up at Isabel and frowned. “Apparently she needs that long to get ready.” Kurt raised an eyebrow.
“See you,” Kurt said with a smile before he shut the door and sighed. Now he actually had to go through his suitcases and figure out what was where and how much damage had been done in the form of impossible-to-get-out creases.
The first thing Kurt noticed when he'd finally appeared from inside his room was that Isabel was wearing much higher heels. That, and Nick was running his hands all over her skirt with an incredibly confused expression.
“You look great,” Isabel said, seemingly unfazed by Nick's fascination with her clothes. “Marc Jacobs?” Kurt nodded, hands tugging at the end of his shirt in a last-ditch attempt to get rid of the creases he knew were still there. “As soon as this pleb stops being amazed by fabric, we can go.” She reached out to smack Nick about the head before turning back to Kurt. “We were thinking Indian. Any objections?”
“I've never had it, so...” Kurt raised an eyebrow on the matching expressions on Isabel and Nick's faces. They both seemed mildly bemused, with matching frowns.
“How?” Isabel shook her head as she shoved Nick away from her skirt and picked up her bag. “America is so weird.”
Dinner had gone well. Half the menu was practically gobbledigook to Kurt, but they'd ended up ordering a few different dishes to share between them and everything was delicious.
As they'd walked to the restaurant, Kurt had realized that this was where he was supposed to be. Maybe not London itself - even though it was an amazing city, if a little insane and with a slight stench to it (which Isabel insisted came from the Thames and Nick insisted came from the homeless people), but a big city; a big city with culture and so many types of people.
Everything was different compared to Ohio. Simply walking down the street was different. Everyone was unique and themselves. It felt amazing to be with people who didn't worry about popularity or fitting in. As much as he loved his friends back home, Kurt knew that that was always in the back of their minds. It was in the back of his mind, but in a different way; it had never been about fitting in at McKinley or in Lima. He had always been concerned about fitting in with people like him, in a place he could connect with.
That was what London offered, and it was intense. The thought made his heart beat faster and his face burn with the effort of smiling for so long. He was fairly sure Nick and Isabel thought him insane, but he couldn't bring himself to care.
He was somewhere he belonged, for the first time in his life.
After dinner, they'd gone to a bar for drinks. Of course, Isabel and Nick had seemed surprised and confused again when they'd found out he'd never really drank before, both because he wasn't legal to back at home and because really, he'd seen the effects on his friends enough times. Felt them himself, even, after the April Rhodes incident he’d tried his hardest to forget. He didn't want to end up stripping or making out with anything and everything, or anything Rachel ended up doing whenever somebody gave her alcohol and told her drinking would make her popular.
Nick and Isabel had been nice, thankfully. There was no pressure to drink; they just got him a glass of wine and swapped it for a bottle of water when he'd left it alone after a couple of sips. There were no mentions of the word 'loser' and how much of a 'geek' he was- they hadn't even said anything when Kurt mentioned wanting to go back to the halls after only a few drinks. Nick mumbled about his drink, but he was already half out of his seat and pulling his jacket on.
~*~
When Kurt got back to the halls, after having turned down more time with Isabel and Nick with a well-timed yawn, he settled down on his bed, which was tiny in comparison to the bed he had back home. Every time he stretched out a (fairly short, it wasn't like he was tall) limb, he'd either smack the wall or almost fall off the bed. When he reached for his laptop, he almost tumbled off, and only managed to catch himself by clinging onto the side of the bed and practically hauling himself upwards.
Kurt settled back against the single pillow as he waited for his laptop to start up and for Skype to open automatically. He rubbed at his face, knowing he should get up, find his face products and tone, cleanse, moisturize- everything his face needed to actually look vaguely nice. His body felt so heavy though; he forced his eyes to stay open by staring at the bright light of the screen, humming under his breath to try and keep himself awake.
“If Blaine's not online, I'll get up and do my face,” he said to the room at large. “If Blaine's online, I'll tell him to remind me when I go offline.” As he finished his sentence, Skype opened with its usual irritating noise. Before he could even get his contact list open (which contained most everyone in New Directions, plus Burt and Carole. Burt was only online when Carole reminded him to be, however), Blaine's name popped up. It was followed by the also irritating ringing noise.
“Hey,” he said when he could finally hear muffled sounds coming from his speakers. Blaine's webcam was still loading, but he was sure Blaine could see him in all his jet-lagged, half-asleep glory. He ran a hand through his hair, definitely making it look worse than it already did, and couldn't bring himself to care.
“You look exhausted.” Kurt grinned at Blaine's voice. He leaned forward, as if getting closer to the screen would bring him closer to Blaine. As he did, the webcam finally loaded and he could see him. Unlike Kurt, Blaine looked refreshed. He was still at home, in his bedroom, lounging across the bed, laying on his side and looking at the laptop. Light streamed in from the windows.
Kurt's chest burned as he realized that more than anything, no matter how amazing London was, he wanted to be back home. He wanted to be curled up beside Blaine, talking about nothing and tracing the stripes of his t-shirt with his fingers. He wanted to be lounging in the sun with Blaine; not alone in a tiny bed, desperate for sleep but desperate to stay awake.
“Kurt? Are you okay?” Trust Blaine to see tiny shifts in Kurt's expression on a ridiculously pixelated image. “Did something happen?”
“Don't worry,” Kurt soothed, forcing the smile from before back into his face. “I'm just tired.” Blaine nodded, propping his head up on his head and smiling back at Kurt.
“I miss you. I tried to call you earlier to see if you wanted to go and get coffee before I realized you're not here.” Kurt felt a sob well in his chest at the admission. The air caught in his throat and he coughed. He couldn't cry, he couldn't cry, he could not cry. Not now, not in front of Blaine.
But that was the problem, wasn't it? He couldn't do anything in front of Blaine- everything had to be across the internet.
“I miss you too.” He tried to ignore the sound of his choked voice. He hoped it would just sound like a glitch on the sound or something to Blaine, but he saw the small frown on Blaine's face. “I'm fine, really.”
“Promise?” Blaine's voice was barely audible from the speakers. It reminded Kurt of sitting with him, whispering things to each other that didn't really need to be whispered. He nodded and tried to regain that feeling he'd had earlier; the feeling that made his chest swell with happiness and his face ache. “How's London then?”
“It's amazing,” Kurt said. He was grateful for the change in subject, grateful for Blaine and his unerring ability to know just what Kurt needed. “I think you'd like it here.”
“Maybe I can come and visit you.” Kurt watched as Blaine pushed himself into a sitting position before he replied.
“You should.” He nodded as he spoke, still struggling to keep himself from falling asleep. No matter what time his body seemed to think it was, the exhaustion was really trying to drag him down. “We can go to the British Museum. Isabel was talking about it; I think you'd like it.”
“Who's Isabel?” The sound distorted for a moment, making Blaine's voice sound robotic. The webcam froze, pausing on Blaine's expression in the strangest moment. Again, the want, need to be there with him welled in Kurt.
“One of the people who'll be in my classes. She wants to go into performance makeup though, not fashion.”
“I'm glad you're not alone.” Kurt smiled at that. He couldn't help himself from reaching out and touching the screen, from running his fingers over the too small image of Blaine.
“There's Nick too,” he said as he pulled his hand away. “He helped me with my bags when I got here.”
The conversation gradually turned to the mundane things. They talked about the weather, about food, about the sort of things that crossed their minds during silence. For both of them, it felt strange to let silence take over when they weren't together to communicate through touches. In the moments of silence, it was awkward like it had been at the beginning. It wasn't something either of them really wanted to relive with the distance between them.
As they spoke, Kurt could feel himself getting closer to sleep. He knew lying down was a bad idea when he did it, but the way he'd been sitting before had made his back ache. Besides, he was sure Blaine would find a way to wake him if he noticed Kurt had fallen asleep.
~*~
When Kurt woke up, he realized a couple of things. Firstly, light streamed in through his window and straight into his eyes. Secondly, his laptop was still on and dangerously close to the edge of the bed. Thirdly, his skin felt horrible. As he moved, he felt the skin on his face stretch awkwardly and knew he was going to pay for falling asleep without moisturizing properly.
He hit the on button on his laptop, forcing it out of hibernation and smiled when he saw the last few messages from Blaine.
[01:38:02] Blaine Anderson: Kurt?
[01:38:08] Blaine Anderson: Have you fallen asleep?
[01:38:10] Blaine Anderson: You look adorable.
[01:38:39] Blaine Anderson: I'd wake you up, but you looked exhausted. You need to sleep.
[01:38:45] Blaine Anderson: I'll talk to you tomorrow
[01:38:48] Blaine Anderson: I love you x
With a sigh, he signed out of Skype and pushed himself off of the bed. He'd fallen asleep in his clothes from the day before, belt included. He was sure the skin on his stomach was bruised from the buckle digging in and that the creases would never come out of one of his favorite shirts, but somehow he couldn't find it in himself to care.
It seemed wrong. He'd left everything for a fashion course and now that he was there, he couldn't find it in himself to care about fashion. He resisted the urge to run a hand through his hair as he walked to the bathroom, already stripping off his clothes as he went. Deep down, he knew how much of a life changing experience this could be. America had amazing schools for fashion, but London was the home of so many of the greats, and all of his idols. It was like something inside of him knew he needed to be there to grow and learn. He knew all that, but he couldn't bring himself to appreciate it. Not when everything he loved and kept him together was so far away.
The shower was pitiful - the water lukewarm and barely more than a trickle - and didn't help with the unending pangs of homesickness, but it did help to wake him up. Going through the familiar motions helped calm him while the water forced him awake.
“You'll get over this,” he said out loud to his reflection. His skin was, predictably, having somewhat of a minor freak out but he'd had worse. “You have to get over this. It's a waste of everyone’s time and money to come here and then bitch about how you miss home.”
The talk seemed to work. He could feel the pressure in his chest lightening as he went through his routine. Everything seemed a little less dark, more like he would actually manage to get through this. He only had to get through to December, just three months, and he'd be back home for almost a month.
He smiled as he ran a cotton pad over his face. He needed to learn to think in months, not years, and he could get through.
~*~
The weeks passed in the blink of an eye. The dorms seemed to fill up quickly, with new people arriving every day. Soon, the flat was constantly filled with the noise of five other students and the halls outside were even louder.
The new people were nice, but everyone seemed to split off into their own group of friends quick enough. Nick and Isabel seemed to have latched onto Kurt, popping around to his room at any time of the day or night for a chat or to see if he wanted to go out somewhere. They showed him around London like they'd lived there all their lives - even though Kurt knew they were both from other parts of the country - and he didn't mind the way they rarely told him where they were going. Oddly enough, half the time it seemed to end in a trip to the London Eye which Nick was strangely obsessed with. Kurt himself was particularly fond of Brick Lane, which was less than five minutes away from the dorms.
Between spending his days around London and his nights forcing himself to stay awake to talk to Blaine, the start of classes crept up on him. He barely realized how close they were until Nick woke him up one morning, a cup of coffee in one hand and muttering about how they were going to be late if Kurt didn't get up right away.
He didn’t even leave the room as Kurt got dressed. Every time Kurt paused to inspect his outfit, Nick would sigh and swear and tap his foot against the floor. Kurt just continued ignoring him. It was his first day on a course in one of the best fashion schools in the world. He could hardly turn up in his sweatpants (there were times when comfort won over style, and those times were usually when Kurt was asleep) and an old T-Shirt, could he?
“Are you done?” Nick said as Kurt sprayed his hair into place and prayed to Gaga, Madonna, McQueen, whoever the hell would listen, that it stayed like that. “I’m going to blame you if we get yelled at on our first day, Kurt. And then I will kill you.”
“I’m done,” Kurt replied, happily ignoring everything else Nick said, pulling his satchel over his shoulder. It wasn’t his trusty Jack Georges bag - that one had finally died a graceful death after two years carting around everything at McKinley - but it was nice enough. Even if the buckles were a little too large and oddly placed.
It was ridiculous, he knew that, but staring at those buckles reminded him of Blaine. He’d tried to explain why they bothered him so much, and Blaine had sat there with his familiar patient smile and didn’t once phase into the blank expression everyone else would have ended up having. Buckles were making him want to crawl back into bed, or buy the first tickets home.
“Oi, Hummer,” Nick’s voice - and really annoying nickname for Kurt that earned Nick a patented bitch glare every time - snapped him out of it. “Hurry the fuck up. We don’t even have time to grab coffee. Get on your knees and hope that Isabel was nice enough to get us some.”
“You wish, Cornish.”
~*~
Isabel had gotten them coffee. She was standing outside the college somehow balancing the three cups, her bag, and a folder, all without falling over in her usual ridiculously high heels.
“You look fabulous, Kurt,” she said as she bent down to kiss him on the cheek and pass him his coffee. She just frowned at Nick when she passed him his, muttering something about his being late.
Together, the three of them wandered down the hall of the building. Kurt wasn’t particularly sure any of them knew where they were going, but Isabel seemed somewhat confident so he just made a point to follow her. Hopefully she did know, and they weren’t just going to end up walking around in circles for hours.
They did reach where they were supposed to be and they weren’t the only late ones, thankfully. They sat together, in between someone wearing far too much black and someone who apparently had never heard of bathing. Kurt had never felt so glad to be wedged in between people.
“Good morning, new students,” a woman said from the front of the room. She was, Kurt noticed, dressed fairly well; appropriately for her age, but still stylish. There wasn’t a vest, vaguely adorable bow, or tracksuit in sight. “Welcome to Central Saint Martin’s.”
~*~
part 2