Fic: Of Harps and Feathers
Title: Of Harps and Feathers
Artist: Dinojay
Author: Chatterboxrose/PhantomofaRose
Rating: G//PG
Word Count: 14,600
Fic Summary: "Blaine's wings used to be a pure, snowy white when he was little, just like all other newborns...." Blaine has always hated his dark wings, because to most people, they reflect the color of his soul. Blaine gave up on trying to prove them wrong a long time ago. But everything changes when Kurt Hummel, with wings as white as a cloud on a calm summer’s day, walks into his life….
Link to Art: Follow me!
AN: Since this fic is very music heavy, there is a ZIP file with all the music used in the fic, or used for inspiration. There is also some amazing album art drawn by Dinojay! Thanks to my beta Star55 and Jay for being such an amazing person to talk to about plot ideas! It was so great building the fic with you!
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Introduction
Blaine's wings used to be a pure, snowy white when he was little, just like all other newborns. He hadn't grown up enough for them to change color yet. That usually happened as a person reached puberty and settled into the color they could be forever.
There were of course the few people that changed their wings after that time in their life. That seemed to reflect the way a person was treated. Those people, more often than not, seemed to be criminals. People who did things so bad, it turned their soul, and by effect, their wings dark. Blaine remembered being told that if he saw a person with black wings to avoid them. Darker shades, not completely black, were okay - but to still be wary. The usual colors wings ran from where off-whites, to dark browns, and were as hair color in a lot of ways. It was only the extremes that were either revered, or feared.
When his brother, Cooper, got accepted to college and when Blaine was 8 years old - everything changed. Cooper's wings were beautiful. Slightly off white, but still strong and magnificent. That was the color you could get closest to white. White wings were... rare. So rare, but so beautiful. Many thought that those with white feathers were of pure heart and soul, and should be respected.
It was at this age that Blaine realized that Cooper was his parent's favorite. They cooed over Cooper's acceptance, all the things he was going to do once he was in college, as Blaine stood in the doorway of the living room, holding his favorite toy doll and frowning. That day, it hit Blaine, and that was the day his wings turned from stark white, to a dull egg color.
His parents merely thought that his wings had settled. The youngest that usually happened was around seven anyway, all the way up to 16. They were happy that it happened, and that his wings were such a nice color. Almost as close to white as his brother's.
It didn't stop there.
When Blaine was around 12, he began to realize that he was gay. Since his brother had gone on to be successful in school, landing many commercials since graduating, he wasn't exactly confident. Because of this, his wings were smaller than all the other boys in his class. He got teased because of the way they wilted toward the floor. Being gay, Blaine knew, would make it all worse.
Which it did.
When his parents found out, looking down at him with looks of disappointment and in his father's case, subtle disgust, Blaine felt smaller than ever before.
That day his wings turn a dingy brown, much to his parent's shock. Wings didn't change, after the first time, and it had been years since his wings had changed color. It became clear that he was one of the rare: people whose wings changed according to their treatment, their heart, their soul.
Color Changers were usually associated only with the type of people that did something so wrong; it changed their insides, so the outside needed to be reflected too. It's not to say all criminals' wings changed colors, or if you were a Color Changer you were a criminal. It was a stigma that was hard to get rid of, however.
Blaine - he hadn't done anything wrong. He was just treated wrongly. That didn't matter. People who knew his wings had changed saw him as a Color Changer - a pariah. People at school saw this, hated him for his dirty wings and for being gay. Even when he had transferred to Dalton, after being beaten after his Sadie Hawkins dance, one of his wings broken and in a sling, it doesn't make it any better. People at Dalton, they don't bully, but they still look at him like he's less because of his darker wings and the rumors that they had changed before he transferred. There is something off about him. He wanted to join the Warblers when he started attending the school, he wanted to sing, but they are all about uniformity. They all have wings that were light tawny, the most normal of wing colors.
His would stick out too much.
Blaine gets through school, somehow, goes to college to get his pre-law degree. It's something he knows his father will approve up, and he does. He still looks at his wings, too dark, but his father approves of what he's doing. Maybe if his wings change in one way, they can do it another way as well.
It's when he's two years outside of law school when the final change happens.
He's young in the world of law. He takes the cases at the firm he can get. He ends up having to defend a man who sexually assaulted his step-daughter.
He's guilty and Blaine knows it, even though his wings are a normal color. Even with that horrible act, he just isn't a Color Changer, and keeps the color he's had since he was a teen - a light brown that isn't suspicious in the least.
Blaine gets him off with only a year of community service.
That's the day that Blaine's wings finally turn the color they are now: black as night, shiny and deadly.
When it had happened, Blaine was at a loss. Why were his wings one of the rarest colors: dark black, only associated with people who had dark souls? Blaine was a good person. He didn't want to kill, or hurt, or wrong people. He knew that. So why was he cursed with this color that made little boys and girls, holding on to their mothers' hands stare at him as they passed by, wide eyed and scared, their own white wings fluttering nervously? It wasn't fair.
Since then, his wings have grown into himself. He's learned how to make them look healthy, standing up erect and proud, though they are the dark color that makes people on the street do a double take. Lately, he knows what people expect when they have to talk to him. They expect him to be a horrible person. Sometimes, Blaine gives them what they want. He pretends he's proud of the color, of who he is - a no funny business type of lawyer, who will get things done.
When he's not trying, though, they fall and kiss the ground, dragging around his carpet when he's home alone and doesn't want to keep the charade up. Blaine is tired of it all. He's tired of being looked down on everyday of his life. Even his parents don't really like him. His successful job as a lawyer doesn't erase the fact that he has black wings.
As Blaine disappears into his apartment, his only safe place, he sits back on his chair, strumming his guitar absently and wonders: what's the point?
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For most of Kurt's life, he had resented the color of his wings.
As his peers' wings changed colors they arrived to school the next day, wings held up high and proud as they showed off the new color. It was a sign of growing up, shedding the white color of childhood and embracing the new.
Kurt's wings never changed.
He still had his white wings when he entered high school, the only one in his class. While white wings were revered in usual society, in high school it was a different story. His classmates were jealous that he had the beautiful white wings that they had lost. They were symbols of purity and a kind soul. They should have loved him.
But they were attached to the gay kid. The freak. No one loved his wings or him as a person.
While the other members of Glee club, which he joined during school, had slushies thrown at their faces, Kurt's were aimed for his wings. The cold didn't sting as much, but the reds and blues of the dye stained his wings and made his feathers clump together for days. It was an effort to make his wings dirty, because they should "reflect who he was".
Kurt believed it for so long. His wings were never held high in high school. They were wilted and low to the ground as he tried to hide them as best he could. He woke up everyday, wishing they had changed in his sleep.
They never did.
Kurt accepted this at some point. He got out of high school and finally went to chase his dreams in his favorite place: New York City. There, Kurt accepted himself. There, he let held his wings high. People in the city either didn't care about the color of his wings, or complimented him on the beautiful coloring.
Things are so much different for Kurt now. But he still remembers being alone in his room during high school, curled up on his bed and wondering: what's the point?
Part 1
Blaine pushed the case file away from him with a loud groan. He reached up to rub his hand over his face, shoulders and wings sagging down in exhaustion. He looked up after a few moments, eyes moving to the clock on his desk. It's 11:24 at night and Blaine can't even remember eating dinner, he's been at this for so long.
He stood after a few more minutes of staring down blankly at the sheets of paper, not seeing the words any more, and stretches. He cracks his neck, stretches his arms toward the ceiling, and extends his wings behind him, ruffling the feathers slightly. He trudges out of his home office and out to the living room, toward the kitchen. Blaine pours himself some cereal and uses the last of his milk. He eats standing in the kitchen, leaning up against the counter.
After he's done he sets the bowl and spoon in the sink before he comes back out to the living room. He pauses, looking around at the instruments. His fingers are itching to play something right now - anything - but what to play?
Blaine finally reaches for his acoustic guitar, going over to sit on the bench in front of the piano, the guitar settling in his hands like its second home. It's late, but he doesn't have to worry about waking his neighbors because of the sound proofing he's done over the years.
For a few minutes, he just strokes the strings and lets his breathing even out. Then he starts playing the melody of a song he had been listening to the other day. He lets the words wash over him, his eyes flutter shut.
(You say) You can't have the world see you like this
And you can't stay for more than a night
That you'll be close where you are and that I will be missed
But still I can't turn out the lights
I don't wanna live in limbo baby
I don't want to come home to and empty bed
Said I'm so tired of the quiet baby
And I'm too young to play dead
So c'mon summer go out with grace
Lay down for a season and down for the rain
He finishes the song and slumps down. He's calmer now, at least. He can't believe the case he has now, how much work there is to put into it because in all honesty, the person he is defending is guilty. It will take some work to get him off.
Blaine doesn't want to think about that.
After playing a few more songs, he knows it's getting late, so he puts the guitar away and changes for bed, crawling in and sighing into the sheets.
The next morning Blaine wakes up and goes to work, thankful that it's Friday. He lines up witnesses and does more research on his case throughout the day and takes a short lunch, then lets himself go home early. He forgoes his tie and suit as soon as he gets home and changes into high waters and a grey cashmere sweater. He lets himself relax, settling onto the couch to log into the music message board he frequents.
His eyes settle on a thread called "Music Stores in NYC". He clicks on it, since he always likes to find new places for buying his music. Most of the recommendations he's already been to, and they are all okay. There is one place he doesn't recognize or been to: Gabriel's Harp: Music Emporium, which the poster says is a music and coffee shop.
Blaine types the address into his phone and is surprised that it's only about a twenty minute walk from where he lives. He looks over at the clock - it's just around dinner time now, and he has absolutely nothing in his apartment to eat, unless he wants dry cereal. After a few minutes of deliberating, he decides that he can check out the music and get something to eat on the way back.
The walk is as eventful as it always is - people's eyes either stay on him, wide and surprised, or look through him, wanting him to not exist. Blaine walks with his hands in his pockets, sending a rude look to the people who stare and almost happy when they quicken their paces to move by him.
He finds Gabriel's Harp easily. It's quaint, a small little shop, but tastefully decorated from what Blaine can see from the street. When he goes in, it does feel homey and has a good atmosphere.
There isn't anyone in the shop itself right now. It is a strange time to shop for music, Blaine guesses as he walks over to the joint coffee shop to get his usual.
"Medium drip," he ordered. The barista, who looks like a high school student, looked up. Her bright smile faded as soon as her eyes take in Blaine's wings. Her own, a light brown color, grew stiff behind her. She averted her eyes quickly and her hands shake as she types in the order and tells him the price. Blaine rolls his eyes as he grabbed the coffee from her and walked over to another counter for sweetener.
After taking a few sips, and deciding that it's probably the best coffee he's had for a long time, Blaine starts to explore the music selections. It seems like Gabriel's Harp has a bit of everything - CDs, tapes, vinyl, sheet music and even instruments. It's all well organized as well, and Blaine quickly begins to find things he's never even heard of before.
He also finds some vinyl Beatles records that are in near perfect condition. He looks down at the record in his hand, a little taken a back. He has his own, of course, but not one like this.
"Do you need some help, sir?"
Blaine almost doesn't turn around. He never is asked questions like this when in a store, or anywhere, really, so it doesn't quite hit him that the question is for him. The voice is so close, however, he shifts his eyes over and sees another man standing next to him, an easy smile on his face. Blaine blinks at him in confusion; he's staring at Blaine.
"Me?" he asked, voice portraying how confused he is. The man nods. Blaine is stumped when his eyes never seem to flicker to Blaine's wings. Usually in conversations, the eyes of the person he's speaking to drift over to the wings often, eying them warily, even unconsciously. This man's clear blue eyes, however, stay connected to Blaine's, completely unwavering.
It's Blaine's turn to look just beyond the man's head, to the large pair of wings, held high and proud.
They're a stark, pure white.
Blaine can't even remember seeing an adult with pure white wings. Children, of course, all had white wings, but as they grew older they always changed and settled to the color they would sport the rest of their life (or in Blaine's case, change freakishly). To have the childish, pure, mark of white wings as an adult, however, was just as rare as Color Changing.
Blaine looks back to the man's face, now, knowing that he hates the way people gawk at his rare wing color. It's just strange for him, to be the one staring instead of the one being stared at.
"I don't think so," said Blaine finally. He's never really needed the help of others - not like they would offer it anyway - so he shrugs.
"Well, I hope you find everything alright," said the man. Then he nodded down at the Beatles record. "That's my favorite, you know."
A small smile comes across the man's face and it's rather beautiful. Blaine actually smiles back. "It's my favorite, as well," he said.
"Well, you have excellent taste," said the man before turning and walking away. Blaine notices he walks over to another music section to organize it.
Blaine ends up buying the vinyl and a few other pieces of sheet music that look interesting. The person at the register is the same as the barista, but Blaine doesn't say anything. His eyes keep going back to the man he'd talk to and his white wings.
Blaine gets home and puts on the Beatles record, popping open his Chinese take out box and collapsing on the couch to eat. Throughout the night, he can't stop thinking about the man and his wings. He can't help but think - the two of them are the complete opposite, like day and night.
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Even though the next day is Saturday, Blaine can't really sleep in much. He wakes up and plays the piano for about an hour before he lets his thoughts go back to the man at Gabriel's Harp. As he thinks about that, he remembers the amazing coffee as well. Both win out and Blaine finds himself walking back to the coffee and music shop within the next hour.
It's busy this time. A few patrons look at him when he enters, wide eye gawks that Blaine finds himself used to. He gets his medium drip again and finds an empty table. People are beginning to filter out. He's not sure if it's because of him, or because it's getting later in the morning.
Blaine spots the man again from across the room. He's leaning over a CD display, organizing them and making it more eye catching. Now that Blaine isn't so taken aback by the color of his wings (still as beautiful as they were yesterday) he takes in the rest of him.
The man is strikingly beautiful. It would be one thing if he was just plain looking - the beauty and unusual color of his wings would make him beautiful as it is. But really, he's tall and muscular, face all smooth angles. Blaine remembers the clear blue eyes from yesterday and can't believe this man has been so lucky. Not only this but, every time he leans down to the bottom shelf, the jeans he has on (already tight) stretch across his legs and ass and Blaine follows him with his eyes.
The man's eyes catch his a few times. He nods politely the first time. He must remember Blaine from yesterday, which he isn't surprised about. Blaine is hard to forget, not that he's that remarkable. The next few times when his eyes lock with Blaine's, he looks flustered, then increasingly annoyed.
There are only a few people milling around the music store when he finally walks over to Blaine. It takes Blaine off guard and he sits up as he nears.
"Hello there," said Blaine, his voice flirty, an easy grin on his face.
"May I ask why you find it necessary to leer in my direction?" the man asked, staring down at Blaine with his arms crossed over his chest.
Blaine is taken aback for a moment. Honestly, he really hadn't thought he was leering, but he wouldn't be surprised if he was.
That's the thing about his wings. People expect him to be at his worse so mostly, he is. He's rude and too flirty and generally doesn't care about being nice to others - they aren't nice to him. They don't expect him to be. It's the wings, Blaine knows. Besides that, people don't call him out on his leering, or admittedly lousy attitude, because they expect it. This man, however…
"What can I say," Blaine said before he can stop himself and slipping into the bad attitude he usually operates under. "You look good bent over putting away CDs."
The man's face flushes and his wings flutter slightly in indignation and Blaine silently congratulates himself for getting a rise out of the other man. He looks beautiful, flushed like that, and his eyes come back to the wings.
"Oh I see, you think you're hot stuff, don't you?" asked the man, leaning onto the table.
Blaine smirked up at the man, holding his chin high. "Well, you know what they say about the size of a man's wings." He raises his wings from the ground, parting them just a bit to show their size. The man's eyes drift to the wing span and a curious look crosses his eyes for just a moment before shifting neutral. He looks back to Blaine, looking about ready to rip him a new one, when suddenly, he pauses.
After a long moment, in which Blaine feels like he's being looked through, a small smile appears on the man's face.
"You don't fool me," he said, looking satisfied.
"Excuse me?"
"You can act like your wings all you want, mister," said the man. "But that's all it is - an act. You can't be this much of an asshole, because yesterday, I got the vibe you were actually a nice guy. Which makes me think: why the sudden change?"
Blaine glares up at the man, pushes his chair out and stands, slapping his palms onto the table. The barista, the only person in the store close enough to see the exchange, jumps and looks at the two of them like a tennis match. "Oh you know," said Blaine viciously. "I thought, since I change my wing color, might as well change my personality, too."
The man's expression softens. "A Color Changer?" he whispered.
"Feel free to kick me out of your establishment if it frightens you," sneered Blaine.
"It doesn't frighten me," said the man, his voice quiet. "Your attitude, however, annoys the hell out of me."
"Glad to hear it," said Blaine.
"If you would act like a normal person," said the man. "Maybe people would actually want to get to know you, ever thought of that?"
"You think anyone actually wants to get to know me with these wings, ever think of that?" said Blaine, a sarcastic edge to his tone. He's never quite talked about his wings so bluntly like this - confronted the elephant in the room, so to speak.
"Ever think that you're not the only one that had a hard time because of his wings?" said the man, his voice growing higher.
Blaine is opening his mouth to respond when suddenly, he can't think of a thing to say. His eyes drift to the man's wings, tense and raised behind him in the midst of their argument, and realizes that with wings like that, yeah, he hasn't had the easiest time either. While white wings are treasured, they are still rare. This man is probably looked at like a freak as well, though perhaps people like him more. Would trust him, at least.
Blaine deflates, his wings beginning to drop behind him. His eyes dart away from the man's and he pushes himself away from the table.
"Yeah," he said. "Yeah," Blaine repeated, not sure what to say. The man looks surprised that something he said got through. "I just -" His throat closes. He can't do this. He turns and leaves Gabriel's Harp, leaving the man staring after him.
Blaine plays his instruments around his apartment all weekend. He finds that, as he grows more stressed, he gravitates toward them more. He doesn't even touch his case reports all weekend and hates it when he has to return to work on Monday.
As he's playing his music, he replays the conversation he had with the man over and over again.
Hello heart you're a bumbling mess,
You beat and beat right out of my chest.
And conversations that don't exist
between my brain and all these passages
when all I want to be
is the hard-hearted man you'll never see again.
Blaine feels like an idiot, as he thinks about it more. Honestly, the conversation he had with this man, whoever he is, is the longest non work related conversation he's had in, well, Blaine can't even remember. And everything he had said is true and he'd been honest about how he didn't like Blaine's attitude. Blaine hasn't had that kind of honesty in his life before.
Oh my skin what a mess you're in,
but it's hard to know where to begin.
In 20 years you've changed three times,
I can't afford to lose this life tonight.
Then there was a part that stuck out the Blaine: he had said he wasn't frightened by the fact that Blaine is a Color Changer. He'd been surprised, by the looks of it, but not frightened. His eyes held the kind of honesty and sincerity that Blaine expected from someone with his wings.
Hello bones so skinny and frail,
which move so slow and taste so stale.
Blaine stops playing, head falling onto the guitar with a sigh.
This, in the end, is what leads Blaine back to Gabriel's Harp. He only hopes that the man is working.
He is.
He's on the floor of the music store as usual. He can't quite bring himself to go straight to him, however, so he goes up to order a coffee. As he does, he can feel eyes on him. When Blaine turns, he sees the man looking at him. When their eyes connect, Blaine motions for him to come toward him.
They both sit at a table without saying anything. The man looks standoffish, which Blaine can understand. He sighs and looks at the man.
"I'm sorry - about the other day."
This grabs the man's attention and he looks up, mildly surprised.
"Yeah, I'm shocked too," said Blaine. He shakes his head. "Look, I'm sort of an asshole. I don't know how to be anything else but that sometimes. It's either - that or nothing when I'm talking to other people."
"Why?"
That's a question that Blaine doesn't expect. He doesn't get it often at all, not personally.
"People expect it from me," Blaine finally answered, after getting over the shock of it. "I wasn't a horrible person. That's not why they changed." Blaine's wings twitch behind him and the man's eyes go to them for a moment. "But people think that's why, and so after a while, I got tired of trying to convince people I'm not the color they are. So I stopped and became what I wanted."
"Why not try being yourself?" asked the man, his voice soft.
"I - I don't think I know who that is."
"Well," said the man. "Let's start with a name, then." An easygoing smile came onto his face.
"My name is Blaine. Blaine Anderson," he said, still a little surprised by this entire interaction with a person he had only just met a few days ago - and argued with.
"Blaine," he said, as if testing out the word. "I'm Kurt Hummel."
"Hi," said Blaine, feeling strange. This - this hasn't happened to him.
"Just so you know, you're forgiven for the leering," said Kurt. "And acting like a jerk. Coming back here to apologize makes up for it. Just - maybe start being nice? Even if you don't know who you are, you could start with being nice. Maybe it would surprise you - people could change their minds about you."
Blaine laughed and shook his head. "That's - that's a nice sentiment." Kurt raised and eyebrow at him and he shrugged. "But, well, I guess I'll try. The nice thing." Blaine had a feeling that Kurt could ask him to jump and he would. "So, um, you said the other day that you haven't had it easy either. I just - your wings are beautiful," he said.
"Thank you," said Kurt. "I haven't always thought so. Neither did people in high school." He shrugged and Blaine understood.
"High school - it sucked. Being different, in anyway, caused problems," said Blaine.
"Exactly."
So began an easy conversation between the two. Kurt told Blaine all about his high school experiences. Of the jealousy and shame associated with his wings. How he'd learned to accept them eventually, away from high school and the toxic environment. "I tried the performing thing. And the singing thing, which I always loved in high school," finished Kurt, Blaine actually hanging on every word. "But it's like, if my more feminine features didn't hinder me getting roles, my wings just stood out too much." He shrugged.
"So you're working here now?" asked Blaine, gesturing around at the music shop.
A wicked smile came on Kurt's face. "I own here," he said, which took Blaine aback for a moment.
"You - own this place?"
"Yes," said Kurt, his chest swelling with pride. "I started it up. I just knew I loved music and coffee. I know so many people who do, and thought why not create a great place that had both? So I did. It's been going strong for about four years now."
"It's - it's great," said Blaine. "I've been to a lot of music stores and really, it is one of the best."
"Well thank you," said Kurt. "So, what's your story?"
Blaine's smile faltered and he looked down at his coffee cup, now empty. He picked it up and twirled it in his hands. "I - I don't think." He paused and looked away.
"Hey," said Kurt softly. "It's okay. Why don't you… what's some of your favorite music?" He said, switching the topic entirely.
Blaine looked back over to Kurt, a tentative smile coming back on his face. "Now Kurt, you just started a conversation you can't hope to finish. I hope you have some time."
"I'm the boss," said Kurt. "I have all the time in the world."
Kurt and Blaine sat there for around two hours talking about different musicians and bands. Blaine found he liked a little bit of everything. In high school, he'd been a big Top 40 fan, and while he still loved the popular stuff on the radio, since moving to New York he'd started to get into more unknowns as well. Kurt had a broad musical knowledge as well, mostly from the last few years of owning the shop. He tended to lean toward Broadway and musicals for his down time music enjoyment, as well as the classics.
Many times in their conversation, Blaine found himself pausing and coming away from it all - usually as he was watching Kurt talk passionately about Wicked or something similar - and be suddenly surprised. Really, he hadn't talked to someone like this for - forever. He spoke to the other people at his firm, to witnesses, to his family if he had to - but all of that was for a purpose. This, this whole conversation, it was just what it was and nothing more. It was nice.
Near the end of their conversation, Kurt look down at his watch and laughed. "Wow - look at us, talking the day away. How about we continue this conversation over a late lunch or something?"
Blaine's heart suddenly beat faster and his wings tightened behind him. "I - I don't think so," he muttered, looking down.
Kurt was quiet for a few moments before Blaine saw him nod out of the corner of his eye. "Yeah. I understand." He paused. "Why don't you join the Harp's mailing list? Like I said earlier, we have live performances here every week and anyone can come. Myself and other employees usually put together a music recommendation list on a weekly basis that I bet you'd be interested in."
"Yeah, okay," said Blaine. Kurt came back with a list of emails and Blaine signed up. After that, they sat together almost awkwardly, despite the lengthy conversation they had.
"I would ask you for your number," said Kurt suddenly. "Because I'd like to keep in touch. But something tells me that you don't want that yet." Blaine looked away - he wasn't wrong.
"I think that you're right," he said. "Why don't I just come here. It seems like you're almost always here, after all. I just -"
"I get it, Blaine," said Kurt. "Really." Blaine looked up to see the kind smile on Kurt's face. "I'll see you later?"
"Yeah," said Blaine, pushing himself up from the table. "I'll talk to you later, Kurt."
Blaine walked back to his apartment in a daze. By the time he had made it back to his living room, looking around at the piles of sheet music and instruments against walls, he wondered what had just happened.
"You seem to know a lot about music," said Kurt after getting over a small laughing fit. He leaned against his fist, turning sideways as he grinned across the table at Blaine. "Do you do it for a living or something?"
"I'm a lawyer actually," said Blaine. "I've just always liked music. I had music lessons as a kid. The usual." He shrugged and took a sip of his coffee.
It was the third day coming over to Gabriel's Harp after work to talk to Kurt for about an hour over a cup of coffee. He liked this time period the most. It was late enough where not many people were around to shop for music or get coffee. They were free to hang around each other and not get stared at.
"A lawyer?" asked Kurt, voice rising in awe. "Oh man, I didn't realize you were that smart." He laughed and shook his head. "That's fantastic, Blaine."
Blaine shrugged and lowered his eyes. "It's okay. I think what you do is fantastic, actually."
Kurt rolled his eyes. "Yeah, well. My family has a history of starting our own businesses, I guess. My dad started a car repair shop a few years after he married my mom. He was excited when I decided to open the Harp."
Blaine took a sip of his coffee, not sure what else to say. He couldn't image that his dad would be as supportive if Blaine had done the same as Kurt.
"Did you get the email last night?" asked Kurt.
"I did - I wanted to check out that one band someone recommended in it, actually," said Blaine.
"I'll get it for you," said Kurt. "Are you going to come to the music night tomorrow night?"
"I don't know," said Blaine, shifting in his chair. He'd looked at the email for a long time last night, weighing the pros and cons. Blaine hadn't gone to things like open mics and concerts for a while now. As a general rule, they weren't enjoyable for Blaine. His wings itched uncomfortably at the thought. "I think I'm going to be busy. I have this huge case I should be prepping for. Maybe some other time."
"I understand," said Kurt. "We get some really great bands and singers. A lot come every week and are really talented. You'd like them."
"I'll think about it, Kurt," said Blaine, is voice tight. Kurt looked at him for a long moment, his eyes searching. Kurt, though he hadn't known him for long, had a way of looking at Blaine that made him feel vulnerable and open. It was unnerving, but strangely enough, Blaine didn't hate it.
"Let's go get you that CD," Kurt finally said, standing up from the table.
0 0 0 0
It starts getting to the point where Blaine looks forward to going to Gabriel's Harp more than anything else in his day. It's not like he ever particularly liked his job before meeting Kurt, but lately, Blaine hasn't been caring about it as much as he used to. Spending time with Kurt, who barely ever looks at his wings and doesn't push him and doesn't see him as something evil - that's what matters, now.
Blaine finds that, the more time he spends with Kurt, the more things he notices about him: the way his eyes crinkle when he laughs - really laughs - and how the sound makes Blaine's heart skip. The way his wings flutter indignantly whenever Blaine playfully makes fun of Broadway or teases him for adding sugar to his non fat mocha. These things Blaine has never noticed about a person. He's never spent enough time with just one person to notice them, really.
There are some things about Blaine that don't change, even with all the time he spends with Kurt.
He keeps refusing to go to the music night at the Harp. He doesn't rightly know why anymore, besides the fact he is nervous about being out with Kurt in front of so many people. He knows Kurt is probably annoyed, because it's been a month and he pointedly ignores going to the Harp on music nights, but he still hasn't said anything.
"I have a proposition for you," said Kurt as soon as he sat down across from Blaine. Blaine looks up with a small smile.
"Yes?"
"I have tickets to a music festival," said Kurt. "And I was wondering if you wanted to go with me? They have a lot of different local musicians, as well as a few I think you'll like." Kurt slips a flyer across the table and Blaine looks down, ready to refuse, when he sees the names.
"Whoa."
"Exactly."
"I - they're one of my favorites."
"I know." Blaine looks up at Kurt, who looks rather proud of himself. "I got tickets even though I had to fight for them and I really, really want you to come with me. Please."
Blaine looks from Kurt, down to the flyer once more. It would be public, he knows, and even bigger than here at the Harp. But the band -
"I will," Blaine said finally, wondering where the sudden push came from.
"You - you will?" asked Kurt, noticeable surprised.
Blaine laughs and nods. "Don't think this is for you - it's for the music."
"Obviously - just - thank you," said Kurt. Suddenly he stood, leaning over to wrap his arms around Blaine in a hug. One hand came around to settle just under where his wing met is back, the other came to rest just on the top curve of the other wing, fingers settling into his feathers for a moment.
Blaine's heart pounded loudly in his ears, his whole body shivering with pleasure. He'd never been touched like this, a familiar hug he'd seen time and time again between loved ones and family. It was a sign of love and familiarity between two people - resting a hand on a wing like this. He'd never been a part of one, at least since his wings had changed.
It didn't last long before Kurt was pulling away, a wide smile on his face. He didn't seem to notice the effect he had on Blaine at all, which suited him fine.
"It's next weekend - I hope that's okay?"
"Yeah," said Blaine, his mouth dry. "Great."
Blaine thought about canceling on Kurt a few times in the next week. He kept on coming back to one thought, however: he really did want to go. With Kurt, most of all. So that's how Blaine found himself opening his apartment door to a smiling Kurt the next Saturday morning. He looked more than pleased to see Blaine, which made him shiver all the way to the tips of his wings.
"Let's go!" said Kurt, holding out his arm for Blaine. Blaine took it, linking their arms together as they made their way downstairs and toward the subway, speaking about the upcoming music festival with excitement. Blaine is pretty sure that's why he doesn't notice the stares at first. He's so caught up in watching Kurt speak with his free hand, gushing about the bands and musicians he's most looking forward to in the next few hours, he barely looks around at his surroundings.
It's not till they actually get to the music festival that he sees them.
Blaine is looking around at the sights and booths and the people. It's a mix of dark whites to dark browns as he takes in everyone by their wings, some so packed together that he can't even tell where each pair separate. Kurt is pointing somewhere in the distance and talking about how they have to remember to keep applying sunscreen throughout the day, or he will absolutely cook in this sun. That's when Blaine notices something is… off. Because he and Kurt - they aren't packed tightly together, up against others as they walk across the grassy field, whereas everyone else are like sardines.
Blaine looked away from Kurt and around him. There was a wide berth around he and Kurt, and as far as Blaine can see, wide eyed stares.
Some eyes are directed at his wings - those people are stiffed and more disgusted and shocked than anything. The usual stares, really. Others are looking at Kurt's wings and the way the light reflects on the shiny white texture. Those are looks of awe - none of disgust, but interest.
Others still, Blaine can see are looking at both of their wings, back and forth with looks of confusion.
Blaine looked over his shoulder and noticeed how their wings occasionally brush up against each other as they walk. He'd felt it for a while, since they'd left Blaine's apartment, but it wasn't something he'd stopped to think about until now. The way Blaine's wing pressed up against Kurt's, their feathers meshing together for a moment, the mix of white and black - that was what people were staring at.
" - Blaine, what's wrong?"
Blaine hadn't realized he had stopped walking. He looked away from their wings and at Kurt to his side, who looked at him with a look of concern.
"I just -" said Blaine, his voice quiet.
"I can't believe someone like him would associate with someone like - like that." Blaine looked over Kurt's shoulder at a young couple and winced. The woman was trying to be quiet and discrete, but both Kurt and Blaine could hear her. She was looking in their direction and, as Blaine locked eyes with her, she looked away.
"Blaine, don't listen to -" Kurt reached forward, resting one hand on his forearm.
"No!" said Blaine, pulling his arm away from Kurt. He tried to ignore the hurt expression on his face as soon as he did it. "No just - they're right. I knew - I knew this would happen."
"Blaine, please -"
"I knew that people would stare at me like I'm a freak and like you're an angel from heaven and what the hell is he doing with someone that looks like they fell from heaven itself? How can he associate with someone who is obviously so dark inside that his outside reflects what's one the inside?"
Blaine was breathing heavily and Kurt was looking at him with tears in his eyes. Blaine looked away - he didn't want to see this.
"I ruin everything, Kurt - I can't ruin you, too." Blaine turned and started for the exit, ignoring Kurt calling his name behind him.
( Part 2)
Artist: Dinojay
Author: Chatterboxrose/PhantomofaRose
Rating: G//PG
Word Count: 14,600
Fic Summary: "Blaine's wings used to be a pure, snowy white when he was little, just like all other newborns...." Blaine has always hated his dark wings, because to most people, they reflect the color of his soul. Blaine gave up on trying to prove them wrong a long time ago. But everything changes when Kurt Hummel, with wings as white as a cloud on a calm summer’s day, walks into his life….
Link to Art: Follow me!
AN: Since this fic is very music heavy, there is a ZIP file with all the music used in the fic, or used for inspiration. There is also some amazing album art drawn by Dinojay! Thanks to my beta Star55 and Jay for being such an amazing person to talk to about plot ideas! It was so great building the fic with you!
0 0 0 0
Introduction
Blaine's wings used to be a pure, snowy white when he was little, just like all other newborns. He hadn't grown up enough for them to change color yet. That usually happened as a person reached puberty and settled into the color they could be forever.
There were of course the few people that changed their wings after that time in their life. That seemed to reflect the way a person was treated. Those people, more often than not, seemed to be criminals. People who did things so bad, it turned their soul, and by effect, their wings dark. Blaine remembered being told that if he saw a person with black wings to avoid them. Darker shades, not completely black, were okay - but to still be wary. The usual colors wings ran from where off-whites, to dark browns, and were as hair color in a lot of ways. It was only the extremes that were either revered, or feared.
When his brother, Cooper, got accepted to college and when Blaine was 8 years old - everything changed. Cooper's wings were beautiful. Slightly off white, but still strong and magnificent. That was the color you could get closest to white. White wings were... rare. So rare, but so beautiful. Many thought that those with white feathers were of pure heart and soul, and should be respected.
It was at this age that Blaine realized that Cooper was his parent's favorite. They cooed over Cooper's acceptance, all the things he was going to do once he was in college, as Blaine stood in the doorway of the living room, holding his favorite toy doll and frowning. That day, it hit Blaine, and that was the day his wings turned from stark white, to a dull egg color.
His parents merely thought that his wings had settled. The youngest that usually happened was around seven anyway, all the way up to 16. They were happy that it happened, and that his wings were such a nice color. Almost as close to white as his brother's.
It didn't stop there.
When Blaine was around 12, he began to realize that he was gay. Since his brother had gone on to be successful in school, landing many commercials since graduating, he wasn't exactly confident. Because of this, his wings were smaller than all the other boys in his class. He got teased because of the way they wilted toward the floor. Being gay, Blaine knew, would make it all worse.
Which it did.
When his parents found out, looking down at him with looks of disappointment and in his father's case, subtle disgust, Blaine felt smaller than ever before.
That day his wings turn a dingy brown, much to his parent's shock. Wings didn't change, after the first time, and it had been years since his wings had changed color. It became clear that he was one of the rare: people whose wings changed according to their treatment, their heart, their soul.
Color Changers were usually associated only with the type of people that did something so wrong; it changed their insides, so the outside needed to be reflected too. It's not to say all criminals' wings changed colors, or if you were a Color Changer you were a criminal. It was a stigma that was hard to get rid of, however.
Blaine - he hadn't done anything wrong. He was just treated wrongly. That didn't matter. People who knew his wings had changed saw him as a Color Changer - a pariah. People at school saw this, hated him for his dirty wings and for being gay. Even when he had transferred to Dalton, after being beaten after his Sadie Hawkins dance, one of his wings broken and in a sling, it doesn't make it any better. People at Dalton, they don't bully, but they still look at him like he's less because of his darker wings and the rumors that they had changed before he transferred. There is something off about him. He wanted to join the Warblers when he started attending the school, he wanted to sing, but they are all about uniformity. They all have wings that were light tawny, the most normal of wing colors.
His would stick out too much.
Blaine gets through school, somehow, goes to college to get his pre-law degree. It's something he knows his father will approve up, and he does. He still looks at his wings, too dark, but his father approves of what he's doing. Maybe if his wings change in one way, they can do it another way as well.
It's when he's two years outside of law school when the final change happens.
He's young in the world of law. He takes the cases at the firm he can get. He ends up having to defend a man who sexually assaulted his step-daughter.
He's guilty and Blaine knows it, even though his wings are a normal color. Even with that horrible act, he just isn't a Color Changer, and keeps the color he's had since he was a teen - a light brown that isn't suspicious in the least.
Blaine gets him off with only a year of community service.
That's the day that Blaine's wings finally turn the color they are now: black as night, shiny and deadly.
When it had happened, Blaine was at a loss. Why were his wings one of the rarest colors: dark black, only associated with people who had dark souls? Blaine was a good person. He didn't want to kill, or hurt, or wrong people. He knew that. So why was he cursed with this color that made little boys and girls, holding on to their mothers' hands stare at him as they passed by, wide eyed and scared, their own white wings fluttering nervously? It wasn't fair.
Since then, his wings have grown into himself. He's learned how to make them look healthy, standing up erect and proud, though they are the dark color that makes people on the street do a double take. Lately, he knows what people expect when they have to talk to him. They expect him to be a horrible person. Sometimes, Blaine gives them what they want. He pretends he's proud of the color, of who he is - a no funny business type of lawyer, who will get things done.
When he's not trying, though, they fall and kiss the ground, dragging around his carpet when he's home alone and doesn't want to keep the charade up. Blaine is tired of it all. He's tired of being looked down on everyday of his life. Even his parents don't really like him. His successful job as a lawyer doesn't erase the fact that he has black wings.
As Blaine disappears into his apartment, his only safe place, he sits back on his chair, strumming his guitar absently and wonders: what's the point?
0 0 0 0
For most of Kurt's life, he had resented the color of his wings.
As his peers' wings changed colors they arrived to school the next day, wings held up high and proud as they showed off the new color. It was a sign of growing up, shedding the white color of childhood and embracing the new.
Kurt's wings never changed.
He still had his white wings when he entered high school, the only one in his class. While white wings were revered in usual society, in high school it was a different story. His classmates were jealous that he had the beautiful white wings that they had lost. They were symbols of purity and a kind soul. They should have loved him.
But they were attached to the gay kid. The freak. No one loved his wings or him as a person.
While the other members of Glee club, which he joined during school, had slushies thrown at their faces, Kurt's were aimed for his wings. The cold didn't sting as much, but the reds and blues of the dye stained his wings and made his feathers clump together for days. It was an effort to make his wings dirty, because they should "reflect who he was".
Kurt believed it for so long. His wings were never held high in high school. They were wilted and low to the ground as he tried to hide them as best he could. He woke up everyday, wishing they had changed in his sleep.
They never did.
Kurt accepted this at some point. He got out of high school and finally went to chase his dreams in his favorite place: New York City. There, Kurt accepted himself. There, he let held his wings high. People in the city either didn't care about the color of his wings, or complimented him on the beautiful coloring.
Things are so much different for Kurt now. But he still remembers being alone in his room during high school, curled up on his bed and wondering: what's the point?
Part 1
Blaine pushed the case file away from him with a loud groan. He reached up to rub his hand over his face, shoulders and wings sagging down in exhaustion. He looked up after a few moments, eyes moving to the clock on his desk. It's 11:24 at night and Blaine can't even remember eating dinner, he's been at this for so long.
He stood after a few more minutes of staring down blankly at the sheets of paper, not seeing the words any more, and stretches. He cracks his neck, stretches his arms toward the ceiling, and extends his wings behind him, ruffling the feathers slightly. He trudges out of his home office and out to the living room, toward the kitchen. Blaine pours himself some cereal and uses the last of his milk. He eats standing in the kitchen, leaning up against the counter.
After he's done he sets the bowl and spoon in the sink before he comes back out to the living room. He pauses, looking around at the instruments. His fingers are itching to play something right now - anything - but what to play?
Blaine finally reaches for his acoustic guitar, going over to sit on the bench in front of the piano, the guitar settling in his hands like its second home. It's late, but he doesn't have to worry about waking his neighbors because of the sound proofing he's done over the years.
For a few minutes, he just strokes the strings and lets his breathing even out. Then he starts playing the melody of a song he had been listening to the other day. He lets the words wash over him, his eyes flutter shut.
(You say) You can't have the world see you like this
And you can't stay for more than a night
That you'll be close where you are and that I will be missed
But still I can't turn out the lights
I don't wanna live in limbo baby
I don't want to come home to and empty bed
Said I'm so tired of the quiet baby
And I'm too young to play dead
So c'mon summer go out with grace
Lay down for a season and down for the rain
He finishes the song and slumps down. He's calmer now, at least. He can't believe the case he has now, how much work there is to put into it because in all honesty, the person he is defending is guilty. It will take some work to get him off.
Blaine doesn't want to think about that.
After playing a few more songs, he knows it's getting late, so he puts the guitar away and changes for bed, crawling in and sighing into the sheets.
The next morning Blaine wakes up and goes to work, thankful that it's Friday. He lines up witnesses and does more research on his case throughout the day and takes a short lunch, then lets himself go home early. He forgoes his tie and suit as soon as he gets home and changes into high waters and a grey cashmere sweater. He lets himself relax, settling onto the couch to log into the music message board he frequents.
His eyes settle on a thread called "Music Stores in NYC". He clicks on it, since he always likes to find new places for buying his music. Most of the recommendations he's already been to, and they are all okay. There is one place he doesn't recognize or been to: Gabriel's Harp: Music Emporium, which the poster says is a music and coffee shop.
Blaine types the address into his phone and is surprised that it's only about a twenty minute walk from where he lives. He looks over at the clock - it's just around dinner time now, and he has absolutely nothing in his apartment to eat, unless he wants dry cereal. After a few minutes of deliberating, he decides that he can check out the music and get something to eat on the way back.
The walk is as eventful as it always is - people's eyes either stay on him, wide and surprised, or look through him, wanting him to not exist. Blaine walks with his hands in his pockets, sending a rude look to the people who stare and almost happy when they quicken their paces to move by him.
He finds Gabriel's Harp easily. It's quaint, a small little shop, but tastefully decorated from what Blaine can see from the street. When he goes in, it does feel homey and has a good atmosphere.
There isn't anyone in the shop itself right now. It is a strange time to shop for music, Blaine guesses as he walks over to the joint coffee shop to get his usual.
"Medium drip," he ordered. The barista, who looks like a high school student, looked up. Her bright smile faded as soon as her eyes take in Blaine's wings. Her own, a light brown color, grew stiff behind her. She averted her eyes quickly and her hands shake as she types in the order and tells him the price. Blaine rolls his eyes as he grabbed the coffee from her and walked over to another counter for sweetener.
After taking a few sips, and deciding that it's probably the best coffee he's had for a long time, Blaine starts to explore the music selections. It seems like Gabriel's Harp has a bit of everything - CDs, tapes, vinyl, sheet music and even instruments. It's all well organized as well, and Blaine quickly begins to find things he's never even heard of before.
He also finds some vinyl Beatles records that are in near perfect condition. He looks down at the record in his hand, a little taken a back. He has his own, of course, but not one like this.
"Do you need some help, sir?"
Blaine almost doesn't turn around. He never is asked questions like this when in a store, or anywhere, really, so it doesn't quite hit him that the question is for him. The voice is so close, however, he shifts his eyes over and sees another man standing next to him, an easy smile on his face. Blaine blinks at him in confusion; he's staring at Blaine.
"Me?" he asked, voice portraying how confused he is. The man nods. Blaine is stumped when his eyes never seem to flicker to Blaine's wings. Usually in conversations, the eyes of the person he's speaking to drift over to the wings often, eying them warily, even unconsciously. This man's clear blue eyes, however, stay connected to Blaine's, completely unwavering.
It's Blaine's turn to look just beyond the man's head, to the large pair of wings, held high and proud.
They're a stark, pure white.
Blaine can't even remember seeing an adult with pure white wings. Children, of course, all had white wings, but as they grew older they always changed and settled to the color they would sport the rest of their life (or in Blaine's case, change freakishly). To have the childish, pure, mark of white wings as an adult, however, was just as rare as Color Changing.
Blaine looks back to the man's face, now, knowing that he hates the way people gawk at his rare wing color. It's just strange for him, to be the one staring instead of the one being stared at.
"I don't think so," said Blaine finally. He's never really needed the help of others - not like they would offer it anyway - so he shrugs.
"Well, I hope you find everything alright," said the man. Then he nodded down at the Beatles record. "That's my favorite, you know."
A small smile comes across the man's face and it's rather beautiful. Blaine actually smiles back. "It's my favorite, as well," he said.
"Well, you have excellent taste," said the man before turning and walking away. Blaine notices he walks over to another music section to organize it.
Blaine ends up buying the vinyl and a few other pieces of sheet music that look interesting. The person at the register is the same as the barista, but Blaine doesn't say anything. His eyes keep going back to the man he'd talk to and his white wings.
Blaine gets home and puts on the Beatles record, popping open his Chinese take out box and collapsing on the couch to eat. Throughout the night, he can't stop thinking about the man and his wings. He can't help but think - the two of them are the complete opposite, like day and night.
0 0 0 0
Even though the next day is Saturday, Blaine can't really sleep in much. He wakes up and plays the piano for about an hour before he lets his thoughts go back to the man at Gabriel's Harp. As he thinks about that, he remembers the amazing coffee as well. Both win out and Blaine finds himself walking back to the coffee and music shop within the next hour.
It's busy this time. A few patrons look at him when he enters, wide eye gawks that Blaine finds himself used to. He gets his medium drip again and finds an empty table. People are beginning to filter out. He's not sure if it's because of him, or because it's getting later in the morning.
Blaine spots the man again from across the room. He's leaning over a CD display, organizing them and making it more eye catching. Now that Blaine isn't so taken aback by the color of his wings (still as beautiful as they were yesterday) he takes in the rest of him.
The man is strikingly beautiful. It would be one thing if he was just plain looking - the beauty and unusual color of his wings would make him beautiful as it is. But really, he's tall and muscular, face all smooth angles. Blaine remembers the clear blue eyes from yesterday and can't believe this man has been so lucky. Not only this but, every time he leans down to the bottom shelf, the jeans he has on (already tight) stretch across his legs and ass and Blaine follows him with his eyes.
The man's eyes catch his a few times. He nods politely the first time. He must remember Blaine from yesterday, which he isn't surprised about. Blaine is hard to forget, not that he's that remarkable. The next few times when his eyes lock with Blaine's, he looks flustered, then increasingly annoyed.
There are only a few people milling around the music store when he finally walks over to Blaine. It takes Blaine off guard and he sits up as he nears.
"Hello there," said Blaine, his voice flirty, an easy grin on his face.
"May I ask why you find it necessary to leer in my direction?" the man asked, staring down at Blaine with his arms crossed over his chest.
Blaine is taken aback for a moment. Honestly, he really hadn't thought he was leering, but he wouldn't be surprised if he was.
That's the thing about his wings. People expect him to be at his worse so mostly, he is. He's rude and too flirty and generally doesn't care about being nice to others - they aren't nice to him. They don't expect him to be. It's the wings, Blaine knows. Besides that, people don't call him out on his leering, or admittedly lousy attitude, because they expect it. This man, however…
"What can I say," Blaine said before he can stop himself and slipping into the bad attitude he usually operates under. "You look good bent over putting away CDs."
The man's face flushes and his wings flutter slightly in indignation and Blaine silently congratulates himself for getting a rise out of the other man. He looks beautiful, flushed like that, and his eyes come back to the wings.
"Oh I see, you think you're hot stuff, don't you?" asked the man, leaning onto the table.
Blaine smirked up at the man, holding his chin high. "Well, you know what they say about the size of a man's wings." He raises his wings from the ground, parting them just a bit to show their size. The man's eyes drift to the wing span and a curious look crosses his eyes for just a moment before shifting neutral. He looks back to Blaine, looking about ready to rip him a new one, when suddenly, he pauses.
After a long moment, in which Blaine feels like he's being looked through, a small smile appears on the man's face.
"You don't fool me," he said, looking satisfied.
"Excuse me?"
"You can act like your wings all you want, mister," said the man. "But that's all it is - an act. You can't be this much of an asshole, because yesterday, I got the vibe you were actually a nice guy. Which makes me think: why the sudden change?"
Blaine glares up at the man, pushes his chair out and stands, slapping his palms onto the table. The barista, the only person in the store close enough to see the exchange, jumps and looks at the two of them like a tennis match. "Oh you know," said Blaine viciously. "I thought, since I change my wing color, might as well change my personality, too."
The man's expression softens. "A Color Changer?" he whispered.
"Feel free to kick me out of your establishment if it frightens you," sneered Blaine.
"It doesn't frighten me," said the man, his voice quiet. "Your attitude, however, annoys the hell out of me."
"Glad to hear it," said Blaine.
"If you would act like a normal person," said the man. "Maybe people would actually want to get to know you, ever thought of that?"
"You think anyone actually wants to get to know me with these wings, ever think of that?" said Blaine, a sarcastic edge to his tone. He's never quite talked about his wings so bluntly like this - confronted the elephant in the room, so to speak.
"Ever think that you're not the only one that had a hard time because of his wings?" said the man, his voice growing higher.
Blaine is opening his mouth to respond when suddenly, he can't think of a thing to say. His eyes drift to the man's wings, tense and raised behind him in the midst of their argument, and realizes that with wings like that, yeah, he hasn't had the easiest time either. While white wings are treasured, they are still rare. This man is probably looked at like a freak as well, though perhaps people like him more. Would trust him, at least.
Blaine deflates, his wings beginning to drop behind him. His eyes dart away from the man's and he pushes himself away from the table.
"Yeah," he said. "Yeah," Blaine repeated, not sure what to say. The man looks surprised that something he said got through. "I just -" His throat closes. He can't do this. He turns and leaves Gabriel's Harp, leaving the man staring after him.
Blaine plays his instruments around his apartment all weekend. He finds that, as he grows more stressed, he gravitates toward them more. He doesn't even touch his case reports all weekend and hates it when he has to return to work on Monday.
As he's playing his music, he replays the conversation he had with the man over and over again.
Hello heart you're a bumbling mess,
You beat and beat right out of my chest.
And conversations that don't exist
between my brain and all these passages
when all I want to be
is the hard-hearted man you'll never see again.
Blaine feels like an idiot, as he thinks about it more. Honestly, the conversation he had with this man, whoever he is, is the longest non work related conversation he's had in, well, Blaine can't even remember. And everything he had said is true and he'd been honest about how he didn't like Blaine's attitude. Blaine hasn't had that kind of honesty in his life before.
Oh my skin what a mess you're in,
but it's hard to know where to begin.
In 20 years you've changed three times,
I can't afford to lose this life tonight.
Then there was a part that stuck out the Blaine: he had said he wasn't frightened by the fact that Blaine is a Color Changer. He'd been surprised, by the looks of it, but not frightened. His eyes held the kind of honesty and sincerity that Blaine expected from someone with his wings.
Hello bones so skinny and frail,
which move so slow and taste so stale.
Blaine stops playing, head falling onto the guitar with a sigh.
This, in the end, is what leads Blaine back to Gabriel's Harp. He only hopes that the man is working.
He is.
He's on the floor of the music store as usual. He can't quite bring himself to go straight to him, however, so he goes up to order a coffee. As he does, he can feel eyes on him. When Blaine turns, he sees the man looking at him. When their eyes connect, Blaine motions for him to come toward him.
They both sit at a table without saying anything. The man looks standoffish, which Blaine can understand. He sighs and looks at the man.
"I'm sorry - about the other day."
This grabs the man's attention and he looks up, mildly surprised.
"Yeah, I'm shocked too," said Blaine. He shakes his head. "Look, I'm sort of an asshole. I don't know how to be anything else but that sometimes. It's either - that or nothing when I'm talking to other people."
"Why?"
That's a question that Blaine doesn't expect. He doesn't get it often at all, not personally.
"People expect it from me," Blaine finally answered, after getting over the shock of it. "I wasn't a horrible person. That's not why they changed." Blaine's wings twitch behind him and the man's eyes go to them for a moment. "But people think that's why, and so after a while, I got tired of trying to convince people I'm not the color they are. So I stopped and became what I wanted."
"Why not try being yourself?" asked the man, his voice soft.
"I - I don't think I know who that is."
"Well," said the man. "Let's start with a name, then." An easygoing smile came onto his face.
"My name is Blaine. Blaine Anderson," he said, still a little surprised by this entire interaction with a person he had only just met a few days ago - and argued with.
"Blaine," he said, as if testing out the word. "I'm Kurt Hummel."
"Hi," said Blaine, feeling strange. This - this hasn't happened to him.
"Just so you know, you're forgiven for the leering," said Kurt. "And acting like a jerk. Coming back here to apologize makes up for it. Just - maybe start being nice? Even if you don't know who you are, you could start with being nice. Maybe it would surprise you - people could change their minds about you."
Blaine laughed and shook his head. "That's - that's a nice sentiment." Kurt raised and eyebrow at him and he shrugged. "But, well, I guess I'll try. The nice thing." Blaine had a feeling that Kurt could ask him to jump and he would. "So, um, you said the other day that you haven't had it easy either. I just - your wings are beautiful," he said.
"Thank you," said Kurt. "I haven't always thought so. Neither did people in high school." He shrugged and Blaine understood.
"High school - it sucked. Being different, in anyway, caused problems," said Blaine.
"Exactly."
So began an easy conversation between the two. Kurt told Blaine all about his high school experiences. Of the jealousy and shame associated with his wings. How he'd learned to accept them eventually, away from high school and the toxic environment. "I tried the performing thing. And the singing thing, which I always loved in high school," finished Kurt, Blaine actually hanging on every word. "But it's like, if my more feminine features didn't hinder me getting roles, my wings just stood out too much." He shrugged.
"So you're working here now?" asked Blaine, gesturing around at the music shop.
A wicked smile came on Kurt's face. "I own here," he said, which took Blaine aback for a moment.
"You - own this place?"
"Yes," said Kurt, his chest swelling with pride. "I started it up. I just knew I loved music and coffee. I know so many people who do, and thought why not create a great place that had both? So I did. It's been going strong for about four years now."
"It's - it's great," said Blaine. "I've been to a lot of music stores and really, it is one of the best."
"Well thank you," said Kurt. "So, what's your story?"
Blaine's smile faltered and he looked down at his coffee cup, now empty. He picked it up and twirled it in his hands. "I - I don't think." He paused and looked away.
"Hey," said Kurt softly. "It's okay. Why don't you… what's some of your favorite music?" He said, switching the topic entirely.
Blaine looked back over to Kurt, a tentative smile coming back on his face. "Now Kurt, you just started a conversation you can't hope to finish. I hope you have some time."
"I'm the boss," said Kurt. "I have all the time in the world."
Kurt and Blaine sat there for around two hours talking about different musicians and bands. Blaine found he liked a little bit of everything. In high school, he'd been a big Top 40 fan, and while he still loved the popular stuff on the radio, since moving to New York he'd started to get into more unknowns as well. Kurt had a broad musical knowledge as well, mostly from the last few years of owning the shop. He tended to lean toward Broadway and musicals for his down time music enjoyment, as well as the classics.
Many times in their conversation, Blaine found himself pausing and coming away from it all - usually as he was watching Kurt talk passionately about Wicked or something similar - and be suddenly surprised. Really, he hadn't talked to someone like this for - forever. He spoke to the other people at his firm, to witnesses, to his family if he had to - but all of that was for a purpose. This, this whole conversation, it was just what it was and nothing more. It was nice.
Near the end of their conversation, Kurt look down at his watch and laughed. "Wow - look at us, talking the day away. How about we continue this conversation over a late lunch or something?"
Blaine's heart suddenly beat faster and his wings tightened behind him. "I - I don't think so," he muttered, looking down.
Kurt was quiet for a few moments before Blaine saw him nod out of the corner of his eye. "Yeah. I understand." He paused. "Why don't you join the Harp's mailing list? Like I said earlier, we have live performances here every week and anyone can come. Myself and other employees usually put together a music recommendation list on a weekly basis that I bet you'd be interested in."
"Yeah, okay," said Blaine. Kurt came back with a list of emails and Blaine signed up. After that, they sat together almost awkwardly, despite the lengthy conversation they had.
"I would ask you for your number," said Kurt suddenly. "Because I'd like to keep in touch. But something tells me that you don't want that yet." Blaine looked away - he wasn't wrong.
"I think that you're right," he said. "Why don't I just come here. It seems like you're almost always here, after all. I just -"
"I get it, Blaine," said Kurt. "Really." Blaine looked up to see the kind smile on Kurt's face. "I'll see you later?"
"Yeah," said Blaine, pushing himself up from the table. "I'll talk to you later, Kurt."
Blaine walked back to his apartment in a daze. By the time he had made it back to his living room, looking around at the piles of sheet music and instruments against walls, he wondered what had just happened.
"You seem to know a lot about music," said Kurt after getting over a small laughing fit. He leaned against his fist, turning sideways as he grinned across the table at Blaine. "Do you do it for a living or something?"
"I'm a lawyer actually," said Blaine. "I've just always liked music. I had music lessons as a kid. The usual." He shrugged and took a sip of his coffee.
It was the third day coming over to Gabriel's Harp after work to talk to Kurt for about an hour over a cup of coffee. He liked this time period the most. It was late enough where not many people were around to shop for music or get coffee. They were free to hang around each other and not get stared at.
"A lawyer?" asked Kurt, voice rising in awe. "Oh man, I didn't realize you were that smart." He laughed and shook his head. "That's fantastic, Blaine."
Blaine shrugged and lowered his eyes. "It's okay. I think what you do is fantastic, actually."
Kurt rolled his eyes. "Yeah, well. My family has a history of starting our own businesses, I guess. My dad started a car repair shop a few years after he married my mom. He was excited when I decided to open the Harp."
Blaine took a sip of his coffee, not sure what else to say. He couldn't image that his dad would be as supportive if Blaine had done the same as Kurt.
"Did you get the email last night?" asked Kurt.
"I did - I wanted to check out that one band someone recommended in it, actually," said Blaine.
"I'll get it for you," said Kurt. "Are you going to come to the music night tomorrow night?"
"I don't know," said Blaine, shifting in his chair. He'd looked at the email for a long time last night, weighing the pros and cons. Blaine hadn't gone to things like open mics and concerts for a while now. As a general rule, they weren't enjoyable for Blaine. His wings itched uncomfortably at the thought. "I think I'm going to be busy. I have this huge case I should be prepping for. Maybe some other time."
"I understand," said Kurt. "We get some really great bands and singers. A lot come every week and are really talented. You'd like them."
"I'll think about it, Kurt," said Blaine, is voice tight. Kurt looked at him for a long moment, his eyes searching. Kurt, though he hadn't known him for long, had a way of looking at Blaine that made him feel vulnerable and open. It was unnerving, but strangely enough, Blaine didn't hate it.
"Let's go get you that CD," Kurt finally said, standing up from the table.
0 0 0 0
It starts getting to the point where Blaine looks forward to going to Gabriel's Harp more than anything else in his day. It's not like he ever particularly liked his job before meeting Kurt, but lately, Blaine hasn't been caring about it as much as he used to. Spending time with Kurt, who barely ever looks at his wings and doesn't push him and doesn't see him as something evil - that's what matters, now.
Blaine finds that, the more time he spends with Kurt, the more things he notices about him: the way his eyes crinkle when he laughs - really laughs - and how the sound makes Blaine's heart skip. The way his wings flutter indignantly whenever Blaine playfully makes fun of Broadway or teases him for adding sugar to his non fat mocha. These things Blaine has never noticed about a person. He's never spent enough time with just one person to notice them, really.
There are some things about Blaine that don't change, even with all the time he spends with Kurt.
He keeps refusing to go to the music night at the Harp. He doesn't rightly know why anymore, besides the fact he is nervous about being out with Kurt in front of so many people. He knows Kurt is probably annoyed, because it's been a month and he pointedly ignores going to the Harp on music nights, but he still hasn't said anything.
"I have a proposition for you," said Kurt as soon as he sat down across from Blaine. Blaine looks up with a small smile.
"Yes?"
"I have tickets to a music festival," said Kurt. "And I was wondering if you wanted to go with me? They have a lot of different local musicians, as well as a few I think you'll like." Kurt slips a flyer across the table and Blaine looks down, ready to refuse, when he sees the names.
"Whoa."
"Exactly."
"I - they're one of my favorites."
"I know." Blaine looks up at Kurt, who looks rather proud of himself. "I got tickets even though I had to fight for them and I really, really want you to come with me. Please."
Blaine looks from Kurt, down to the flyer once more. It would be public, he knows, and even bigger than here at the Harp. But the band -
"I will," Blaine said finally, wondering where the sudden push came from.
"You - you will?" asked Kurt, noticeable surprised.
Blaine laughs and nods. "Don't think this is for you - it's for the music."
"Obviously - just - thank you," said Kurt. Suddenly he stood, leaning over to wrap his arms around Blaine in a hug. One hand came around to settle just under where his wing met is back, the other came to rest just on the top curve of the other wing, fingers settling into his feathers for a moment.
Blaine's heart pounded loudly in his ears, his whole body shivering with pleasure. He'd never been touched like this, a familiar hug he'd seen time and time again between loved ones and family. It was a sign of love and familiarity between two people - resting a hand on a wing like this. He'd never been a part of one, at least since his wings had changed.
It didn't last long before Kurt was pulling away, a wide smile on his face. He didn't seem to notice the effect he had on Blaine at all, which suited him fine.
"It's next weekend - I hope that's okay?"
"Yeah," said Blaine, his mouth dry. "Great."
Blaine thought about canceling on Kurt a few times in the next week. He kept on coming back to one thought, however: he really did want to go. With Kurt, most of all. So that's how Blaine found himself opening his apartment door to a smiling Kurt the next Saturday morning. He looked more than pleased to see Blaine, which made him shiver all the way to the tips of his wings.
"Let's go!" said Kurt, holding out his arm for Blaine. Blaine took it, linking their arms together as they made their way downstairs and toward the subway, speaking about the upcoming music festival with excitement. Blaine is pretty sure that's why he doesn't notice the stares at first. He's so caught up in watching Kurt speak with his free hand, gushing about the bands and musicians he's most looking forward to in the next few hours, he barely looks around at his surroundings.
It's not till they actually get to the music festival that he sees them.
Blaine is looking around at the sights and booths and the people. It's a mix of dark whites to dark browns as he takes in everyone by their wings, some so packed together that he can't even tell where each pair separate. Kurt is pointing somewhere in the distance and talking about how they have to remember to keep applying sunscreen throughout the day, or he will absolutely cook in this sun. That's when Blaine notices something is… off. Because he and Kurt - they aren't packed tightly together, up against others as they walk across the grassy field, whereas everyone else are like sardines.
Blaine looked away from Kurt and around him. There was a wide berth around he and Kurt, and as far as Blaine can see, wide eyed stares.
Some eyes are directed at his wings - those people are stiffed and more disgusted and shocked than anything. The usual stares, really. Others are looking at Kurt's wings and the way the light reflects on the shiny white texture. Those are looks of awe - none of disgust, but interest.
Others still, Blaine can see are looking at both of their wings, back and forth with looks of confusion.
Blaine looked over his shoulder and noticeed how their wings occasionally brush up against each other as they walk. He'd felt it for a while, since they'd left Blaine's apartment, but it wasn't something he'd stopped to think about until now. The way Blaine's wing pressed up against Kurt's, their feathers meshing together for a moment, the mix of white and black - that was what people were staring at.
" - Blaine, what's wrong?"
Blaine hadn't realized he had stopped walking. He looked away from their wings and at Kurt to his side, who looked at him with a look of concern.
"I just -" said Blaine, his voice quiet.
"I can't believe someone like him would associate with someone like - like that." Blaine looked over Kurt's shoulder at a young couple and winced. The woman was trying to be quiet and discrete, but both Kurt and Blaine could hear her. She was looking in their direction and, as Blaine locked eyes with her, she looked away.
"Blaine, don't listen to -" Kurt reached forward, resting one hand on his forearm.
"No!" said Blaine, pulling his arm away from Kurt. He tried to ignore the hurt expression on his face as soon as he did it. "No just - they're right. I knew - I knew this would happen."
"Blaine, please -"
"I knew that people would stare at me like I'm a freak and like you're an angel from heaven and what the hell is he doing with someone that looks like they fell from heaven itself? How can he associate with someone who is obviously so dark inside that his outside reflects what's one the inside?"
Blaine was breathing heavily and Kurt was looking at him with tears in his eyes. Blaine looked away - he didn't want to see this.
"I ruin everything, Kurt - I can't ruin you, too." Blaine turned and started for the exit, ignoring Kurt calling his name behind him.
( Part 2)