FIC: WHAT WERE YOU THINKING? (2/?)
It had to be done.
It would be in the papers and the magazines first thing tomorrow morning but it had to be done. He should have done it sooner.
‘Ya think?’ inner-Mercedes said, before breaking out into an explanation as to why it should have been done earlier. Kurt wished she would shut up… but she kinda had a point.
All of this mess and all of the bad publicity that was definitely on its way now could just as easily have been avoided. Why couldn’t he have just said ‘no’ when Blaine asked for his hand? He hated having to break Blaine’s heart; well, most of him did anyway, but dammit what choice did he have? He was just looking out for his future. It was an act of self-preservation. That was understandable, right? (Yeah, that explanation was sure to stop Blaine’s mom’s tirade). And it wasn’t like he was being selfish either. Blaine kinda had it coming.
Really, the least he could have done was notice the fucking gardenia. How hard was it? Be compassionate. Be present. Be supportive. That was really all Kurt had ever wanted. He shouldn’t even have had to ask for it in the first place! Right?
And then he had the nerve to act like the perfect boyfriend. Every time the fucking paparazzi chased them, Blaine would be all smiles for the camera. Like their relationship was so perfect. And the worst part was, Blaine didn’t even realize what he was doing was wrong…
He actually believed he was being the perfect gentleman.
Kurt snorted.
Well, in retrospect, he probably was being a gentleman the whole time but that’s not the point.
How many times had Kurt asked the man to be a little more attentive? How many times had he asked him to not call him Princess? What part of “Only my dad ever called me that, so please respect that,” couldn’t he understand? He was a doctor for crying out loud. A bloody surgeon. Was he really that stupid? No… that wasn’t the right word for him was it?
Smug.
Yeah. That worked.
The man could be such a smug jackass sometimes. Scratch that.
The man could be a smug jackass ALL THE TIME. A smug, holier-than-thou, self-absorbed jackass who acted like Kurt’s addition to his family would be just another feather in his cap of awesome.
Well, what if Kurt didn’t wanna be a stupid feather??? Ever thought about that Dr. Ass-Much McCreamy?
Hmph.
It was the fucking 2010s. Who even said “Pretty Little Head” anymore?
Why, why couldn’t he just take Kurt seriously?
Yes, he was a showman! Yes, his job wasn’t as important as oh, I don’t know, open heart surgery, but dammit, he was worth more than diamonds and Swiss chocolate. He liked being wined and dined, sure.
But he wasn’t only looking for designer clothes and jewelry in life. He was so much deeper than that. And anyway, newsflash Dr. Carver, Kurt Hummel earns more than enough and he can afford to buy himself Cartier just fucking fine.
What he can’t give himself, is a hug, when he’s feeling lonely.
What he can’t do for himself, is defend himself to his fiancé’s crone of a mother.
What he can’t buy himself is a little understanding. How about some of that, doctor?
He took a deep breath. His phone was ringing again.
He wasn’t surprised though, the damn thing had been ringing off the hook since he left the chapel.
He answered it. “What?”
It was Jerome, his agent.
“Oh thank God, you answered.”
He rolled his eyes. “What is it, J?”
“What do you think you’re doing? Running out of your own wedding like that? Do you have any idea what you’ve done? This is HUGE. It’s gonna be everywhere tomorrow. I already got a call from the producers of The View, and Ryan Seacrest’s camp has been pressing me for details. Irma says that all the tabloids have already started printing whatever shit they could stir.”
“So, handle it,” Kurt replied, annoyed.
“How am I supposed to just handle it? You left a man at the altar… this is big.”
“You think I don’t know that? Look, I don’t know what you’re gonna do about this and it’s not my job to worry about it. I don’t ask you how to do my job, do I? I’ve got, like a million little things on my mind right now that I don’t know how to deal with and I could really use a little break from the added pressure of the media,” Kurt sighed. “Please?”
“Well I suppose I could work the diva angle…” Jerome started.
“No,” Kurt snapped. “No diva angle. Stop selling me like I’m some kind of spoiled brat. That’s how I got into all this trouble in the first place,” and with that, he disconnected the line.
It was the papers’ fault. Just because he was an actor (granted, he was a singer too), they billed him as a divo; one who was always loud, always pretentious, always reckless and always got what he wanted.
Yes, he was an actor, but that didn’t mean he was always dramatic.
He chuckled and looked at the steering wheel.
Point taken.
Oh, the irony that was his life.
But no, he wasn’t always dramatic (present situation aside). He didn’t always get what he wanted and he didn’t make a scene about it either, not usually anyway. And he wasn’t loud.
On stage, yes. He was paid to be. But in real life, he always tried not to speak out of turn. If anything, he was demure.
Hell, if he wasn’t, he would probably have given his fiancé (well, now ex-fiancé he supposed) a piece of his mind a long time ago.
Great.
Now he felt guilty.
Maybe it was his fault for letting Blaine think he was being an awesome boyfriend.
Dammit.
He swerved and stopped the Porsche on the side of the road, pressing both of his hands on the bridge of his nose.
He didn’t deserve this. Not after everything he’d been through as a child.
God, how he hated feeling like a victim!
And now, he was crying. BRILLIANT!!
He hadn’t cried since his dad had passed away two years ago and now he was crying.
Over his own actions.
That made him feel like he was in the wrong. JUST BRILLIANT.
“I’m sorry daddy,” he choked out. “I just-you probably hate me right now don’t you?”
No answer.
“I thought so.”
His phone rang again. It was Carole.
His hands trembling, he answered, “Hey, mom.”
“Kurt, honey where are you? Your brother and I are worried sick.”
“Mom, I --“
“Sweetheart, it’s okay. You don’t have to explain anything to me. No one will ask for answers I promise, just come back home baby.”
“…”
“Kurt?”
A sniffle.
“Honey, say something.”
Nothing.
“Do you need us to come pick you up?” she sighed, sounding distressed. “Let us be there for ya kiddo. Please! I’ll make my famous snicker doodles.”
That made him smile. Sure Carole may not have been his birth-mom. But the woman just knew him.
He sniffed again. Then shook his head, before realizing she couldn’t see him. “Mom, I can’t.”
“Honey-“
“No, I know you guys are worried. But I can’t come home right now. I just… I just need to work some stuff out. And um, maybe spend some time alone. “
“Well, where will you live? What’ll you eat? Lord knows you don’t eat enough.”
“Don’t worry, I’ll get by. I’ll uh… just.. just drive for a bit.”
“Well, at least tell me where you’re headed sweetie.”
“I dunno.”
“Do you need to take a vacation, just you and your books?”
The idea could have worked, except for the gaping hole in it.
The paparazzi would track him down and follow him to his destination wouldn’t they?
That meant he’d need to keep a low profile.
“No, I-look mom, I gotta go okay? I’ll eat right and I promise to call you soon. Try not to worry too much and tell Sadie and Finn and the others not to call me, please? I just really can’t talk to anyone right now.” He loved his friends but awesome as they were, they couldn’t relieve his guilt. He needed some time by himself.
“Okay pumpkin! Make sure you eat right okay?”
“Yes mother,” he smiled. “I love you.”
“I love you too kiddo, and don’t worry. I’ll take care of the press.”
“Thank you, bye.”
“Bye sweetie.”
The line went dead.
He should’ve just hired her to be his agent.
He sniggered at the thought and switched off his phone.
Looking around, he realized that he had left the city behind.
God, how long had he been driving?
He sighed.
Okay, well, time to get back out on the road.
With another sigh, he tried starting the car… to no avail. It was out of gas.
“Dammit.”
The road looked empty for miles and miles.
“Now what?”
‘Well, you could switch your phone back on and call for help,’ inner-Sadie said.
“I think I’ll take my chances with the open road.”
Besides, it might do him some good to stretch his legs.
**
It had felt like a good idea at the time. Call the family, ask them to pick up the car, get out and start walking.
After he’d been walking for an hour, though? Not so much.
What the hell was he thinking?
‘Easy, ya weren’t,’ Sadie had decided to be helpful again.
Urgh!!
After another fifteen minutes, he saw a truck. And hoping against hope that the driver didn’t know who he was, he decided to flag it down for a ride to the nearest bar. He was so thirsty, he’d settle for a beer.
[chapter 2 end]
guess who's in that truck... go on!
GUESS!
It would be in the papers and the magazines first thing tomorrow morning but it had to be done. He should have done it sooner.
‘Ya think?’ inner-Mercedes said, before breaking out into an explanation as to why it should have been done earlier. Kurt wished she would shut up… but she kinda had a point.
All of this mess and all of the bad publicity that was definitely on its way now could just as easily have been avoided. Why couldn’t he have just said ‘no’ when Blaine asked for his hand? He hated having to break Blaine’s heart; well, most of him did anyway, but dammit what choice did he have? He was just looking out for his future. It was an act of self-preservation. That was understandable, right? (Yeah, that explanation was sure to stop Blaine’s mom’s tirade). And it wasn’t like he was being selfish either. Blaine kinda had it coming.
Really, the least he could have done was notice the fucking gardenia. How hard was it? Be compassionate. Be present. Be supportive. That was really all Kurt had ever wanted. He shouldn’t even have had to ask for it in the first place! Right?
And then he had the nerve to act like the perfect boyfriend. Every time the fucking paparazzi chased them, Blaine would be all smiles for the camera. Like their relationship was so perfect. And the worst part was, Blaine didn’t even realize what he was doing was wrong…
He actually believed he was being the perfect gentleman.
Kurt snorted.
Well, in retrospect, he probably was being a gentleman the whole time but that’s not the point.
How many times had Kurt asked the man to be a little more attentive? How many times had he asked him to not call him Princess? What part of “Only my dad ever called me that, so please respect that,” couldn’t he understand? He was a doctor for crying out loud. A bloody surgeon. Was he really that stupid? No… that wasn’t the right word for him was it?
Smug.
Yeah. That worked.
The man could be such a smug jackass sometimes. Scratch that.
The man could be a smug jackass ALL THE TIME. A smug, holier-than-thou, self-absorbed jackass who acted like Kurt’s addition to his family would be just another feather in his cap of awesome.
Well, what if Kurt didn’t wanna be a stupid feather??? Ever thought about that Dr. Ass-Much McCreamy?
Hmph.
It was the fucking 2010s. Who even said “Pretty Little Head” anymore?
Why, why couldn’t he just take Kurt seriously?
Yes, he was a showman! Yes, his job wasn’t as important as oh, I don’t know, open heart surgery, but dammit, he was worth more than diamonds and Swiss chocolate. He liked being wined and dined, sure.
But he wasn’t only looking for designer clothes and jewelry in life. He was so much deeper than that. And anyway, newsflash Dr. Carver, Kurt Hummel earns more than enough and he can afford to buy himself Cartier just fucking fine.
What he can’t give himself, is a hug, when he’s feeling lonely.
What he can’t do for himself, is defend himself to his fiancé’s crone of a mother.
What he can’t buy himself is a little understanding. How about some of that, doctor?
He took a deep breath. His phone was ringing again.
He wasn’t surprised though, the damn thing had been ringing off the hook since he left the chapel.
He answered it. “What?”
It was Jerome, his agent.
“Oh thank God, you answered.”
He rolled his eyes. “What is it, J?”
“What do you think you’re doing? Running out of your own wedding like that? Do you have any idea what you’ve done? This is HUGE. It’s gonna be everywhere tomorrow. I already got a call from the producers of The View, and Ryan Seacrest’s camp has been pressing me for details. Irma says that all the tabloids have already started printing whatever shit they could stir.”
“So, handle it,” Kurt replied, annoyed.
“How am I supposed to just handle it? You left a man at the altar… this is big.”
“You think I don’t know that? Look, I don’t know what you’re gonna do about this and it’s not my job to worry about it. I don’t ask you how to do my job, do I? I’ve got, like a million little things on my mind right now that I don’t know how to deal with and I could really use a little break from the added pressure of the media,” Kurt sighed. “Please?”
“Well I suppose I could work the diva angle…” Jerome started.
“No,” Kurt snapped. “No diva angle. Stop selling me like I’m some kind of spoiled brat. That’s how I got into all this trouble in the first place,” and with that, he disconnected the line.
It was the papers’ fault. Just because he was an actor (granted, he was a singer too), they billed him as a divo; one who was always loud, always pretentious, always reckless and always got what he wanted.
Yes, he was an actor, but that didn’t mean he was always dramatic.
He chuckled and looked at the steering wheel.
Point taken.
Oh, the irony that was his life.
But no, he wasn’t always dramatic (present situation aside). He didn’t always get what he wanted and he didn’t make a scene about it either, not usually anyway. And he wasn’t loud.
On stage, yes. He was paid to be. But in real life, he always tried not to speak out of turn. If anything, he was demure.
Hell, if he wasn’t, he would probably have given his fiancé (well, now ex-fiancé he supposed) a piece of his mind a long time ago.
Great.
Now he felt guilty.
Maybe it was his fault for letting Blaine think he was being an awesome boyfriend.
Dammit.
He swerved and stopped the Porsche on the side of the road, pressing both of his hands on the bridge of his nose.
He didn’t deserve this. Not after everything he’d been through as a child.
God, how he hated feeling like a victim!
And now, he was crying. BRILLIANT!!
He hadn’t cried since his dad had passed away two years ago and now he was crying.
Over his own actions.
That made him feel like he was in the wrong. JUST BRILLIANT.
“I’m sorry daddy,” he choked out. “I just-you probably hate me right now don’t you?”
No answer.
“I thought so.”
His phone rang again. It was Carole.
His hands trembling, he answered, “Hey, mom.”
“Kurt, honey where are you? Your brother and I are worried sick.”
“Mom, I --“
“Sweetheart, it’s okay. You don’t have to explain anything to me. No one will ask for answers I promise, just come back home baby.”
“…”
“Kurt?”
A sniffle.
“Honey, say something.”
Nothing.
“Do you need us to come pick you up?” she sighed, sounding distressed. “Let us be there for ya kiddo. Please! I’ll make my famous snicker doodles.”
That made him smile. Sure Carole may not have been his birth-mom. But the woman just knew him.
He sniffed again. Then shook his head, before realizing she couldn’t see him. “Mom, I can’t.”
“Honey-“
“No, I know you guys are worried. But I can’t come home right now. I just… I just need to work some stuff out. And um, maybe spend some time alone. “
“Well, where will you live? What’ll you eat? Lord knows you don’t eat enough.”
“Don’t worry, I’ll get by. I’ll uh… just.. just drive for a bit.”
“Well, at least tell me where you’re headed sweetie.”
“I dunno.”
“Do you need to take a vacation, just you and your books?”
The idea could have worked, except for the gaping hole in it.
The paparazzi would track him down and follow him to his destination wouldn’t they?
That meant he’d need to keep a low profile.
“No, I-look mom, I gotta go okay? I’ll eat right and I promise to call you soon. Try not to worry too much and tell Sadie and Finn and the others not to call me, please? I just really can’t talk to anyone right now.” He loved his friends but awesome as they were, they couldn’t relieve his guilt. He needed some time by himself.
“Okay pumpkin! Make sure you eat right okay?”
“Yes mother,” he smiled. “I love you.”
“I love you too kiddo, and don’t worry. I’ll take care of the press.”
“Thank you, bye.”
“Bye sweetie.”
The line went dead.
He should’ve just hired her to be his agent.
He sniggered at the thought and switched off his phone.
Looking around, he realized that he had left the city behind.
God, how long had he been driving?
He sighed.
Okay, well, time to get back out on the road.
With another sigh, he tried starting the car… to no avail. It was out of gas.
“Dammit.”
The road looked empty for miles and miles.
“Now what?”
‘Well, you could switch your phone back on and call for help,’ inner-Sadie said.
“I think I’ll take my chances with the open road.”
Besides, it might do him some good to stretch his legs.
**
It had felt like a good idea at the time. Call the family, ask them to pick up the car, get out and start walking.
After he’d been walking for an hour, though? Not so much.
What the hell was he thinking?
‘Easy, ya weren’t,’ Sadie had decided to be helpful again.
Urgh!!
After another fifteen minutes, he saw a truck. And hoping against hope that the driver didn’t know who he was, he decided to flag it down for a ride to the nearest bar. He was so thirsty, he’d settle for a beer.
[chapter 2 end]
guess who's in that truck... go on!
GUESS!