The last two months have been hard on Maxxie. In little ways, and in big ways, but nothing that he wants to complain about. He turned into a girl, and that was weird, but it's about the only thing that centers directly on him. (That involved Claire, too, but nothing Maxxie did hurt her by it.) But he fucked a guy he shouldn't have twice, kissed a
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Probably because it's obvious that a great deal of Maxxie is singing for himself, singing of himself, even as he looks Kurt directly in the eye.
By the time the last note ends, Kurt draws in a quick breath, realizing that he's forgotten to take a fair few during the performance, then smiles, shy, hands raising to offer a polite clap, though no less sincere for being subdued.
"That was really good," Kurt praises with a quick tilt of his head, an awkward laugh under his breath, a slight flush in his cheeks. "For a second, I almost thought you were singing to me rather than at me."
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"Thanks," he says. "Kind of the point, so... I'll take it as a good sign." His licks his lips, wanting to seize this chance, to talk to this guy he's been sneaking glances at. But the fact that Kurt's shied away from or ignored even those little signals makes him cautious. Far more cautious than he usually is. It's not a lack of confidence so much as trying to find the right next step.
"I love that song though." Falling back on the old standard, common interests. That never hurt. "You know Company, right? Do you like Sondheim?"
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With a deep exhale, Kurt falls into another helpless laugh, smiling.
"A very dangerous train of thought to send me hurtling down, as you can see. What about you? Your favorite? If I haven't already scared you off."
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"Hey, you can sing Sondheim because he's got a song that's good for your voice but not love him," Maxxie points out. "For me though..." He shrugs helplessly with a matching smile. "I gotta love West Side Story. Or if you want real, pure Sondheim, no Bernstein, then it's gotta be Assassins." As he speaks, Maxxie seats himself on the edge of the stage, legs dangling. "Takes more than a little fanboying to scare me off."
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"I'm pretty sure that, back home, West Side Story was being considered for our school musical, and believe me, what I wouldn't do for the role of Tony," Kurt grins, shrugging his shoulders in a bit of a modest gesture, humbled at the thought, but not caught enough on it to dwell. "But then we switched to Rocky Horror. Which, very obviously, a far cry from Sondheim, though fun in its own right."
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He raises an eyebrow only because Tony wouldn’t be the first role that came to mind when he thought of Kurt, but his attentive smile doesn’t change its nature. Of course Kurt would want the lead. “Aw, man, wicked,” he says. “I would have loved to have done Rocky. Our musical was this utter shit thing that our drama teacher had written. It was..” Maxxie pauses and shakes his head, letting his breath out in a helpless sigh. “Really, really bad. But it was a musical and the only show for the year so… what can you do? I got the lead so I couldn’t complain too loudly.”
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(Nonetheless, Kurt reminds himself, there's very little that he wouldn't give up now for the chance to sing with New Directions again. If the school had only tried harder. If the school had a way to be more strict about bullying. If, then.)
Still standing, Kurt rests his weight unevenly on his feet, before he lets momentum take him a few steps forward, until he can lean his back against the stage, glancing up in Maxxie's direction, just a couple of feet away. "You know, we could always put together a performance of Rocky Horror here on Tabula Rasa. If nothing else, you'd make a fantastic Rocky, and we all know that he's the one meant to steal the show."
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It stops him for a second, leaves him staring blankly at the middle distance between himself and the ground below, but then he shakes his head and tries to brush it off. It's the only way he knows how to cope with Sketch: reassert himself and what he knows. So he turns a teasing smile on Kurt, much more play than heat, for now. "Are you just trying to get me into gold pants?"
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Before he can get a word out, however, that smile flashes across Maxxie's face again, like a sudden peek of sunshine through the blinds, and for a second, Kurt can only blink in the wake of it. "Uh..." he grasps helplessly at words, feeling the flush creep over his cheeks, and when he presses his hand to the back of his neck, it feels unsettlingly warm. Giving up, he laughs under his breath. "I was going to make a remark about tainting the integrity of the show, but somehow, I'm left feeling that you actually hit it on the head with that question right there."
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"Rocky's not like any other show," he agrees. "A hot guy in his underwear is necessary. But what about you? Would you be my Frank? Or a blushing Brad?"
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"Actually... I'm not sure that either Frank or Brad are my cup of tea, honestly," he replies, rocking his head lightly from side to side. "I was Riff Raff in our school's production, and had a lot of fun with it, surprisingly. Eddie wouldn't be a bad second choice, either, but I don't really have the right type of confidence or experience to pull off the lead roles. Not for Rocky."
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"You mean you don't want to strut around in heels and women's underwear?" Maxxie asks, doing his best to look as falsely shocked as possible. It fades into another easy smile as Maxxie shakes his head. "I know what you mean though. There's only so gay I can go. And it just looks like the most uncomfortable costume."
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Biting down on his lip briefly in embarrassment, knowing that anyone who wants to go into theater would be best served by not having such reservations, he raises an eyebrow. "Same reason I wouldn't be able to play Rocky. It's just a modesty thing. Which isn't to say that you aren't modest," he adds quickly, "but you know, some people are clearly comfortable in their own skin. You seem to be one of them."
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Okay, so, he knows this is probably going to get a blush, no matter how he phrases it, but he can't not. There's a lot of things Maxxie understands about the world, but some things baffle him, too. How a guy like Kurt isn't brimming over with confidence is one of them. "I've got my limits.. and I'll admit there aren't a whole lot of them. But you've got no reason not to be comfortable in your own skin. Not from where I'm sitting."
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"I recently had another growth spurt, a couple of inches that have definitely helped around school," he says first, so as not to completely discount Maxxie's remark, even as his cheeks flush something fierce. "But if my well-meaning school counselor still referred to me as looking like an eleven-year-old milkmaid, you can imagine what else went through the school. And either way, I never saw the point of playing too far from my comfort zone."
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"What I means is," he says, trying again, "and no offense to your well-meaning school counselor, but do you want.. her or his attention?" He raises an eyebrow, fully expecting a no, because school counselor's are made to be old and weird or female. "Does it matter? Did your boyfriend think you looked like a milkmaid? Or any guys who fancied you?" Maxxie's guessing of course, on the boyfriend count too, but regardless, no guy in his right mind would say something like that when they're trying to get into another boy's pants. Unless there was something very kinky going on. "You're in fine shape and the rest is confidence. So if you don't care what they think around school, then fuck what they think when you're on stage, too. The people who get it will get it."
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