Fic: Every Word - Chapter 2 of 12; Glee; Kurt/Blaine
Chapter 2
Kurt steps into his apartment and lets the door close behind him. He leaves the lights out. It’s late but it’s New York, so the apartment is always steeped in the glow of light pollution through the warehouse windows. The unnatural orange and gray of the sky reminds him of the rag & bone jeans he bought the week before. He should take a look at them with his camper boots and the monarch patterned shirt from-
“Kurt! I didn’t hear you come in.” Kurt whips his head toward the couch
“Rachel?” He takes a breath. “Why are you sitting in the dark?”
“Just revelling in the-" she waves a hand vaguely in the air. “It’s New York. My dream town. I think it’s critical to maintaining freshness that at times I just let the city wash over me.”
“I know it’s New York,” says Kurt. “This is my apartment. But - and I hate to be the one to break this to you, Rachel - you don’t live here.”
“Never mind that. Santana let me in.”
“She did?”
Kurt walks into the kitchen, finds a yoghurt in the fridge and hands Rachel a soygurt and a spoon. He mostly buys them on the off chance that eating will interrupt Rachel’s constant conversation.
Rachel smiles brightly. “I’m in her good books. I introduced her to Amanda Leigh Dunn. She’s basically lesbian royalty.”
“I know who she is, Rachel.”
Kurt perches on the kitchen bench. He sighs internally as he crosses his legs then smiles at her semi-sweetly. “So, welcome. How’s everything? I know you close up on Codename: Diane in a few weeks.”
“Yes, I’ve decided that I’m comfortable with this door closing. A window will open. Preferably something that adequately showcases my range.”
Kurt nods. “And how’s Elan?” Rachel moved in with her art curator boyfriend on the upper west side six months ago.
“He’s fine,” she says. “They’re making plans for next year’s exhibits at the Met. He wants to illustrate the beauty in roadside memorials: floral crosses and graffiti and laminated paper signs - the modern art of senseless death.”
“How stimulating.” Kurt raises his eyebrows.
“But enough about me,” says Rachel. “When do you finish up the show?”
Kurt’s at the end of what is essentially an off-off-Broadway one-man Disney love song show called “My Prince Will Come.” It’s been remarkable - a strange kind of dream. He’s on stage mostly by himself; gossiping about warriors and princesses and princess warriors and rolling his eyes and letting people fall in love with their childhood idea of romance. There’s a band too, of course, and a guy recording and looping for harmonies and texture. The lighting guys are incredible and deserve much of the credit. The small theater has been largely sold out and the show has had some good reviews, in its quiet local way. And now it’s closing.
“We can only have the theater until the end of next week,” he says. “We tried to extend but no luck. Some company is doing an Edie Brickell musical next. ‘A smile on a dog’.” He rolls his eyes. Eighties and nineties retrospectives are the worst.
Rachel scrunches her face in sympathy. “Your show is so much better,” she says. Kurt smiles because he knows she’d say that whatever musical was following him. Except maybe Funny Girl. Or A Star is Born.
“It’s a good show,” he says. He sighs a little. Now he’ll only perform ‘A Whole New World’ and ‘Love Will Find a Way’ seven more times.
“Finn called me, Kurt,” Rachel says suddenly. “He wanted me to tell you-“
Kurt’s heart stutters. “Dad-“
Rachel is quick to reassure him. “No no. Your dad’s fine. It’s not that at all. It’s just that Blaine called Finn looking to talk to you and Finn called me. He thought it was the kind of thing you should ask in person. Finn sent me over.” She looks at him. “With a score.” She rustles through her bag.
“A score.” Kurt eyes the papers in Rachel’s hand warily.
“A score for a show Blaine wrote. A stage musical. He asked us to print it but not read it. I haven’t,” she said virtuously. “Not past page three.”
“I don’t understand. He wants me to read it?” Kurt has a horrible thought. “Please tell me it’s not about me.”
“It’s not about you, Kurt,” says Rachel as though she wouldn’t have leaped to the same conclusion if one of her exes had written a musical. “I think he wants you to perform in it.”
“Oh,” says Kurt.
“It’s good timing,” says Rachel. “You’re just finishing up the Disney show.”
“Yeah,” says Kurt. Blaine always had nice timing.
“Except that you’re seeing Raf.”
“A fact which is irrelevant to Blaine, Rachel. Though it reminds me I need to call my boyfriend. And sometime I need to sleep. I’d prefer to do so before Santana returns and wants to use the coffee table for dubious sexual activities.”
Rachel eyes the coffee table uncomfortably as she leaves. The moment the door closes behind her Kurt unfolds the script.
Despite the years and the distance, Kurt can’t imagine reading something Blaine has written, a musical no less, without Blaine’s commentary. There’s only a brief note, though. “Please consider auditioning for the role of David,” with Blaine’s number in the corner of the cover page.
It’s been more than six years since Kurt recognized that the only thing more painful than never seeing Blaine was seeing Blaine.
At the time Kurt’s heart was raw. He couldn’t bring himself to reconcile with the boy who’d broken it. And Kurt couldn’t find love with someone else while Blaine’s bright, hopeful eyes were fixed on him. Even more, he didn’t think he could stand watching Blaine find new love himself. So he’d called it all to a close. They’d stopped meeting; they’d stopped calling; they’d stopped emailing and texting and liking things on Facebook pages. They’d rearranged their lives without one another at the center. It worked, in a way. Kurt was in New York. Blaine moved across the country in the opposite direction to study in LA.
Still, it had taken years to feel like there was any light in a room without Blaine there.
Kurt reads the first page. He reaches for his phone and checks the time; types a message.
To Raf: Sorry honey, the show ran late and then Rachel was here (again!) But something potentially exciting has come in. Talk tomorrow x
He heads into his bedroom and sits against the head of his bed to read the rest of Blaine’s show.
It’s the story of David and Jonathan through their meeting as boys, the battle with Goliath and the Philistines and the war with Jonathan’s father, King Saul. It’s the story of two young men fighting together and apart. They’re soul mates and they’re soldiers. It’s sad and beautiful and doesn’t end happily, but it’s also improbably fun. There’s pop music threaded throughout. Kurt laughs when a section of an Adele song is slipped into an original about loving a man who battles giants. He can visualise the scene when Jonathan, the big shot prince, sings Flo Rida in a club and David, the shepherd son of a farmer, flirts daringly. The show is cleverly anachronistic. It is also simply moving.
At four in the morning Kurt texts the number Blaine left on the script.
To Blaine: It’s incredible, Blaine.
To Blaine: Thank you for sending it to me. I need to audition for the role.
Kurt doesn’t know where Blaine is, but it’s one in the morning anywhere on the West Coast and later elsewhere so he doesn’t expect the almost immediate reply he receives.
From Blaine: Thank you! I really value your opinion (always) - will get Wes to call to set everything up if that’s ok. He’s the producer. Hoping to open here.
To Blaine: Where is here?
From Blaine: Sorry! San Francisco. Will you still go for it?
From Blaine: Please!
From Blaine: No pressure though.
Kurt thinks about the promise in this show, the opportunity to establish himself in a lead role. He thinks too about the things that tie him to New York. It’s unlikely it will be a long run in San Francisco. He might be able to find someone to sublet his apartment, even with Santana in the bargain.
To Blaine: Okay. Yes.
**
“Excited?” asks Devi as she arrives at the audition room.
“Sure,” says Blaine agreeably. “About... the Michal auditions?”
“About your boy.”
“My boy?”
“Didn’t Wes tell you? Your boy Kurt is auditioning this session.”
Blaine feels his heart pause. He long ago stopped counting the days since he last saw Kurt. It’s been years since his brain last betrayed him with wishing for something different. And still-
“He’s not my boy,” he says.
Devi laughs a little. “Good to know.”
The eleventh Michal audition is very good. Blaine glances down at her CV to check her name then toward the back of house to confirm that Wes is catching this. He freezes. Kurt is standing in one of the exits. He’s way at the back, silhouetted in the doorway but Blaine would recognise that stance anywhere.
When the audition is finished Blaine smiles and says all the right things. She really did stand out so he can be sincere. “We’ll let you know,” he says. Then he heads quickly toward the back. Kurt meets him halfway.
“Thank you for coming,” says Blaine. It sounds stupidly formal.
Kurt smiles. He seems perfectly composed, though his eyes are bright. “Of course,” he says lightly.
“If I’d known you were arriving, I’d have picked you up at the airport,” says Blaine. “I’m so sorry.”
“You can’t do everything Blaine,” Kurt says, then leans in for a hug.
Blaine grins into Kurt’s shoulder. Under his hands, Kurt feels slender and strong, all mobile muscles under faultless attire.
“It’s good to see you,” Kurt says.
They both step back and Blaine smiles like it feels safe, like this is simply a long ago friendship they can enjoy rebuilding. He thinks, I can handle this. We can handle this. He also thinks, I can’t believe he’s still so beautiful.
He walks with Kurt to the table they’ve been using for the auditions. Wes has moved up front and is chatting to Devi. They look up as Blaine performs introductions.
Kurt holds out his hand to Devi first. “Kurt Hummel,” he says to her. He shakes Wes’ hand. “Nice to see you, Wes. I’ll be auditioning for the role of David.”
As Kurt walks up to audition, Blaine sees Devi catch Wes’ eye. They’ve seen the audition tape Kurt sent and Wes knows Kurt from Dalton, yet both look oddly dubious about Kurt in person. For a moment Blaine sees Kurt as they must see him - his fine boned face and slim asymmetrical clothing. He looks precise, maybe a little contrived, and not actually like a warrior king at all. Until now it hadn’t occurred to Blaine that he might be remembering something extraordinary that’s not even there.
Until now he’d never considered that Kurt might not be able to do this.
From the stage, Kurt raises an eyebrow. Blaine knows Kurt saw the glance between Devi and Wes and maybe even a flicker of worry in Blaine’s own face.
Kurt has always held himself as though he knows someone is watching. In him, it’s mostly not conceit. Someone has always been watching, for good and for bad. Kurt has never blended in. There’s a vulnerability in it, along with the assuredness that has strengthened with age.
Savannah starts on the piano and Kurt lifts his chin. He blinks slowly, sets his jaw. Blaine has seen those movements a hundred times - every time Kurt had to fight for something he had decided was rightly his. Blaine allows himself a small smile. Kurt Hummel is about to fight for the role.
Kurt starts in with a pared down version of ‘Love is a Battlefield’. It’s gorgeous and amusingly appropriate. He moves into one of the faster songs from the score.
When Kurt sings, Blaine forgets everything he thought about being able to handle this. As a boy of nineteen, Kurt had all the promise of someone who would one day be a star. This man of twenty-five is better than even Blaine, who loved the boy more than life, could have anticipated.
“The score sits right in his sweet spot,” murmurs Wes after a minute.
“Yeah,” says Blaine without looking away from Kurt. Of course it does, Blaine wrote it.
Kurt shifts between a brave and untested boy child and a worn soldier king. He’s perfect.
“Oh my God Blaine,” says Devi. “Everyone who sees the show is going to fall in love with him.”
Blaine doesn’t answer. He looks down at the table for a moment because he knows what she says is true and Blaine has never looked at Kurt without his heart in his eyes.
Chapter 3
Kurt steps into his apartment and lets the door close behind him. He leaves the lights out. It’s late but it’s New York, so the apartment is always steeped in the glow of light pollution through the warehouse windows. The unnatural orange and gray of the sky reminds him of the rag & bone jeans he bought the week before. He should take a look at them with his camper boots and the monarch patterned shirt from-
“Kurt! I didn’t hear you come in.” Kurt whips his head toward the couch
“Rachel?” He takes a breath. “Why are you sitting in the dark?”
“Just revelling in the-" she waves a hand vaguely in the air. “It’s New York. My dream town. I think it’s critical to maintaining freshness that at times I just let the city wash over me.”
“I know it’s New York,” says Kurt. “This is my apartment. But - and I hate to be the one to break this to you, Rachel - you don’t live here.”
“Never mind that. Santana let me in.”
“She did?”
Kurt walks into the kitchen, finds a yoghurt in the fridge and hands Rachel a soygurt and a spoon. He mostly buys them on the off chance that eating will interrupt Rachel’s constant conversation.
Rachel smiles brightly. “I’m in her good books. I introduced her to Amanda Leigh Dunn. She’s basically lesbian royalty.”
“I know who she is, Rachel.”
Kurt perches on the kitchen bench. He sighs internally as he crosses his legs then smiles at her semi-sweetly. “So, welcome. How’s everything? I know you close up on Codename: Diane in a few weeks.”
“Yes, I’ve decided that I’m comfortable with this door closing. A window will open. Preferably something that adequately showcases my range.”
Kurt nods. “And how’s Elan?” Rachel moved in with her art curator boyfriend on the upper west side six months ago.
“He’s fine,” she says. “They’re making plans for next year’s exhibits at the Met. He wants to illustrate the beauty in roadside memorials: floral crosses and graffiti and laminated paper signs - the modern art of senseless death.”
“How stimulating.” Kurt raises his eyebrows.
“But enough about me,” says Rachel. “When do you finish up the show?”
Kurt’s at the end of what is essentially an off-off-Broadway one-man Disney love song show called “My Prince Will Come.” It’s been remarkable - a strange kind of dream. He’s on stage mostly by himself; gossiping about warriors and princesses and princess warriors and rolling his eyes and letting people fall in love with their childhood idea of romance. There’s a band too, of course, and a guy recording and looping for harmonies and texture. The lighting guys are incredible and deserve much of the credit. The small theater has been largely sold out and the show has had some good reviews, in its quiet local way. And now it’s closing.
“We can only have the theater until the end of next week,” he says. “We tried to extend but no luck. Some company is doing an Edie Brickell musical next. ‘A smile on a dog’.” He rolls his eyes. Eighties and nineties retrospectives are the worst.
Rachel scrunches her face in sympathy. “Your show is so much better,” she says. Kurt smiles because he knows she’d say that whatever musical was following him. Except maybe Funny Girl. Or A Star is Born.
“It’s a good show,” he says. He sighs a little. Now he’ll only perform ‘A Whole New World’ and ‘Love Will Find a Way’ seven more times.
“Finn called me, Kurt,” Rachel says suddenly. “He wanted me to tell you-“
Kurt’s heart stutters. “Dad-“
Rachel is quick to reassure him. “No no. Your dad’s fine. It’s not that at all. It’s just that Blaine called Finn looking to talk to you and Finn called me. He thought it was the kind of thing you should ask in person. Finn sent me over.” She looks at him. “With a score.” She rustles through her bag.
“A score.” Kurt eyes the papers in Rachel’s hand warily.
“A score for a show Blaine wrote. A stage musical. He asked us to print it but not read it. I haven’t,” she said virtuously. “Not past page three.”
“I don’t understand. He wants me to read it?” Kurt has a horrible thought. “Please tell me it’s not about me.”
“It’s not about you, Kurt,” says Rachel as though she wouldn’t have leaped to the same conclusion if one of her exes had written a musical. “I think he wants you to perform in it.”
“Oh,” says Kurt.
“It’s good timing,” says Rachel. “You’re just finishing up the Disney show.”
“Yeah,” says Kurt. Blaine always had nice timing.
“Except that you’re seeing Raf.”
“A fact which is irrelevant to Blaine, Rachel. Though it reminds me I need to call my boyfriend. And sometime I need to sleep. I’d prefer to do so before Santana returns and wants to use the coffee table for dubious sexual activities.”
Rachel eyes the coffee table uncomfortably as she leaves. The moment the door closes behind her Kurt unfolds the script.
Despite the years and the distance, Kurt can’t imagine reading something Blaine has written, a musical no less, without Blaine’s commentary. There’s only a brief note, though. “Please consider auditioning for the role of David,” with Blaine’s number in the corner of the cover page.
It’s been more than six years since Kurt recognized that the only thing more painful than never seeing Blaine was seeing Blaine.
At the time Kurt’s heart was raw. He couldn’t bring himself to reconcile with the boy who’d broken it. And Kurt couldn’t find love with someone else while Blaine’s bright, hopeful eyes were fixed on him. Even more, he didn’t think he could stand watching Blaine find new love himself. So he’d called it all to a close. They’d stopped meeting; they’d stopped calling; they’d stopped emailing and texting and liking things on Facebook pages. They’d rearranged their lives without one another at the center. It worked, in a way. Kurt was in New York. Blaine moved across the country in the opposite direction to study in LA.
Still, it had taken years to feel like there was any light in a room without Blaine there.
Kurt reads the first page. He reaches for his phone and checks the time; types a message.
To Raf: Sorry honey, the show ran late and then Rachel was here (again!) But something potentially exciting has come in. Talk tomorrow x
He heads into his bedroom and sits against the head of his bed to read the rest of Blaine’s show.
It’s the story of David and Jonathan through their meeting as boys, the battle with Goliath and the Philistines and the war with Jonathan’s father, King Saul. It’s the story of two young men fighting together and apart. They’re soul mates and they’re soldiers. It’s sad and beautiful and doesn’t end happily, but it’s also improbably fun. There’s pop music threaded throughout. Kurt laughs when a section of an Adele song is slipped into an original about loving a man who battles giants. He can visualise the scene when Jonathan, the big shot prince, sings Flo Rida in a club and David, the shepherd son of a farmer, flirts daringly. The show is cleverly anachronistic. It is also simply moving.
At four in the morning Kurt texts the number Blaine left on the script.
To Blaine: It’s incredible, Blaine.
To Blaine: Thank you for sending it to me. I need to audition for the role.
Kurt doesn’t know where Blaine is, but it’s one in the morning anywhere on the West Coast and later elsewhere so he doesn’t expect the almost immediate reply he receives.
From Blaine: Thank you! I really value your opinion (always) - will get Wes to call to set everything up if that’s ok. He’s the producer. Hoping to open here.
To Blaine: Where is here?
From Blaine: Sorry! San Francisco. Will you still go for it?
From Blaine: Please!
From Blaine: No pressure though.
Kurt thinks about the promise in this show, the opportunity to establish himself in a lead role. He thinks too about the things that tie him to New York. It’s unlikely it will be a long run in San Francisco. He might be able to find someone to sublet his apartment, even with Santana in the bargain.
To Blaine: Okay. Yes.
**
“Excited?” asks Devi as she arrives at the audition room.
“Sure,” says Blaine agreeably. “About... the Michal auditions?”
“About your boy.”
“My boy?”
“Didn’t Wes tell you? Your boy Kurt is auditioning this session.”
Blaine feels his heart pause. He long ago stopped counting the days since he last saw Kurt. It’s been years since his brain last betrayed him with wishing for something different. And still-
“He’s not my boy,” he says.
Devi laughs a little. “Good to know.”
The eleventh Michal audition is very good. Blaine glances down at her CV to check her name then toward the back of house to confirm that Wes is catching this. He freezes. Kurt is standing in one of the exits. He’s way at the back, silhouetted in the doorway but Blaine would recognise that stance anywhere.
When the audition is finished Blaine smiles and says all the right things. She really did stand out so he can be sincere. “We’ll let you know,” he says. Then he heads quickly toward the back. Kurt meets him halfway.
“Thank you for coming,” says Blaine. It sounds stupidly formal.
Kurt smiles. He seems perfectly composed, though his eyes are bright. “Of course,” he says lightly.
“If I’d known you were arriving, I’d have picked you up at the airport,” says Blaine. “I’m so sorry.”
“You can’t do everything Blaine,” Kurt says, then leans in for a hug.
Blaine grins into Kurt’s shoulder. Under his hands, Kurt feels slender and strong, all mobile muscles under faultless attire.
“It’s good to see you,” Kurt says.
They both step back and Blaine smiles like it feels safe, like this is simply a long ago friendship they can enjoy rebuilding. He thinks, I can handle this. We can handle this. He also thinks, I can’t believe he’s still so beautiful.
He walks with Kurt to the table they’ve been using for the auditions. Wes has moved up front and is chatting to Devi. They look up as Blaine performs introductions.
Kurt holds out his hand to Devi first. “Kurt Hummel,” he says to her. He shakes Wes’ hand. “Nice to see you, Wes. I’ll be auditioning for the role of David.”
As Kurt walks up to audition, Blaine sees Devi catch Wes’ eye. They’ve seen the audition tape Kurt sent and Wes knows Kurt from Dalton, yet both look oddly dubious about Kurt in person. For a moment Blaine sees Kurt as they must see him - his fine boned face and slim asymmetrical clothing. He looks precise, maybe a little contrived, and not actually like a warrior king at all. Until now it hadn’t occurred to Blaine that he might be remembering something extraordinary that’s not even there.
Until now he’d never considered that Kurt might not be able to do this.
From the stage, Kurt raises an eyebrow. Blaine knows Kurt saw the glance between Devi and Wes and maybe even a flicker of worry in Blaine’s own face.
Kurt has always held himself as though he knows someone is watching. In him, it’s mostly not conceit. Someone has always been watching, for good and for bad. Kurt has never blended in. There’s a vulnerability in it, along with the assuredness that has strengthened with age.
Savannah starts on the piano and Kurt lifts his chin. He blinks slowly, sets his jaw. Blaine has seen those movements a hundred times - every time Kurt had to fight for something he had decided was rightly his. Blaine allows himself a small smile. Kurt Hummel is about to fight for the role.
Kurt starts in with a pared down version of ‘Love is a Battlefield’. It’s gorgeous and amusingly appropriate. He moves into one of the faster songs from the score.
When Kurt sings, Blaine forgets everything he thought about being able to handle this. As a boy of nineteen, Kurt had all the promise of someone who would one day be a star. This man of twenty-five is better than even Blaine, who loved the boy more than life, could have anticipated.
“The score sits right in his sweet spot,” murmurs Wes after a minute.
“Yeah,” says Blaine without looking away from Kurt. Of course it does, Blaine wrote it.
Kurt shifts between a brave and untested boy child and a worn soldier king. He’s perfect.
“Oh my God Blaine,” says Devi. “Everyone who sees the show is going to fall in love with him.”
Blaine doesn’t answer. He looks down at the table for a moment because he knows what she says is true and Blaine has never looked at Kurt without his heart in his eyes.
Chapter 3