Fic: Inverted Dreaming 2/4
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It's raining on the first day Kurt leaves Blaine alone to go to school.
He spends the morning listening to old records on a rickety turntable, the skips and the static making him feel lazy and contented. He hums along, watching fallen raindrops pool outside of the window. He jumps at every sound, worried that Mr. Hummel is going to make a surprise appearance and find him lounging about in his house.
Mr. Hummel does not, thankfully, make an appearance that day, and Blaine even garners the courage to shuffle upstairs and make himself a quick sandwich at lunch time like Kurt told him he should. He remains completely alone amongst Kurt's things and Kurt's smell until a quarter to four, when the door slams upstairs and Kurt himself tromps down into the basement.
His face is red and blotchy and his once pristine white jeans and blue shirt and scarf are covered in bright purple dye. Angry tears are streaming from his eyes when he enters the room and tosses his bag on the floor.
“Oh my God, Kurt, what happened? Are you okay?” Blaine rushes over to meet him, but Kurt backs away from his outstretched hand.
“Just some idiots. I'm used to it.” Blaine's heart breaks as Kurt swipes at his eyes, turning his head away to try and hide the fact that he's crying.
Blaine approaches again. “It's okay, Kurt,” he says in a soft voice.
“No, it's not!” Kurt bites back. “Nothing about this is okay!”
Blaine shakes his head. “No. I mean, I understand. I meant -”
“How could you possibly -” Kurt doesn't finish, just shakes his head and turns away, twisting his scarf between his fingers.
“What I meant was, it was like that for me, at my old school, and then... well, after I, ah...” He clears his throat. Best not to think about that, not now. “Well, afterward, I transferred to a new school with a zero tolerance, no bullying policy and things got better.”
Kurt flips back to face him, letting out a snort of derision. “Right, because of course such a place exists in magical lala land wherever the hell you came from! Well, not around here!”
Blaine steps back. He feels as though he's been slapped across the face. Kurt's expression softens almost immediately and fresh tears wash to the fronts of his eyes. “I'm sorry,” he whispers. “I didn't mean to take it out on you. I - It's just so... unfair and frustrating and so completely -” Kurt's shoulders begin to shake as his voice breaks, tears running over his stained cheeks in long, thin streams.
“Hurtful,” Blaine finishes for him. He knows. Understands the pain and frustration and feeling of helplessness. He moves towards Kurt and reaches out to lay a hand on his shoulder, trying to let Kurt know that's he's there, he has always been there. “I know. It's okay.”
Blaine stands there squeezing Kurt's shoulder until he's all cried out. He watches as Kurt gently unties his stained scarf and sighs, his lips turned down as he runs it between his fingers. It's very striking, a strange skull motif, and it's obvious that Kurt is very fond of it. Blaine wishes he could find whoever did this to Kurt and make them pay. “Hey,” he says instead, “do you want some help? I'm pretty good at getting stains out. Lots of practise.”
Kurt nods a little and lays the scarf over the back of his desk chair. “I, um... I'm going to get in the shower before my dad gets home and sees... I'll toss my clothes outside if you want to try. The shirt is a lost cause, I don't know about the jeans. And my scarf...” He looks back towards it wistfully. “It was my favourite McQueen. Should have known better than to wear it to that place.” His mouth turns down again and Blaine has to stop himself from rushing forward and taking Kurt into his arms. His hands twitch, his body itches with the need to do just that.
Instead he nods his head and picks it up from where Kurt had laid it. “I'll get it out. Promise. Where's your -”
Kurt is watching him strangely. Blaine can't quite manage to make out his expression. “Oh,” Kurt answers after a second's pause. “Laundry's that way.” He turns his whole body away to point, chewing on his bottom lip and then making a face when he tastes whatever had been thrown at him. “Everything's in there, in the cabinet above the washer.”
Blaine nods again. “Okay. I'll get set up while you get cleaned up,” he says, trying to sound cheerful.
Kurt hesitates on his way to the closet. “I - thank you, Blaine,” he says, voice soft. Blaine smiles and hurries away to the laundry room with Kurt's scarf before he can give in to the urge to embrace him that's come back full force.
He leaves the scarf soaking and walks towards the closed door of Kurt's bathroom. Steam leaks out from under the door and Blaine can smell something floral and the slightest bit woodsy in the air when he bends down to pick up Kurt's stained clothing. He smiles to himself, taking a deep sniff. Kurt is humming something from within the bathroom. It starts out quiet, but he is soon singing, his voice rising, soaring, breathtaking. Blaine shuts his eyes and leans against the closed door and listens with his entire body, lets the music soak in. When he hears Kurt turn off the shower, he hurries away to the laundry room, eyes damp and nose sniffling.
Kurt is still quiet after eating and spending some time with his father. He sits with Blaine and watches a movie and does his homework and they prod at the ceiling again, looking for the light. But Blaine knows deep in his heart that the light is gone, at least for now. He can't sense it, can't smell it like he had before, for years. He feels different. He wonders if it is gone and worries about what he will do. Until he looks over at Kurt's sad eyes, and then he worries about something entirely different.
What if he was with Kurt? Could he protect him? Blaine hadn't been protected by having a friend, but maybe this time would be different. The need to do something burns his insides and crawls up his throat, leaving a lump that he can't seem to swallow away.
The next day Kurt comes home from school with entirely different clothes than the ones he'd left wearing and Blaine says nothing, just gives in to his urge to hug him. He holds him close for as long as he dares, trying not to nudge his nose against the skin of Kurt's neck and smell.
They spend the evening halfheartedly researching portals and vortexes and alternate universes, but they meet mostly dead ends. It's all fiction, stories. Nothing makes any sense. Kurt apologizes and Blaine smiles and waves it away and they crawl into bed next to each other like they've been doing it for years.
“Kurt?”
“Yeah?”
“Can we go shopping? Because I kinda used most of your hair gel. It was a pretty tiny little pot.”
Kurt snorts and has to shove his face into the pillow to mask the sound. “Of course we can.” It's quiet for a moment, Blaine grinning into the dark, happy that he'd made Kurt laugh, and then Kurt speaks up again. “Blaine?”
“Hmm?”
“Thank you.”
“Hey, no problem. I'm here for all of your scarf saving or hugging needs.”
“Not just - Thanks for being here. I've never - I appreciate it.”
“I'm so glad I can help, even the smallest bit.” Blaine smiles over at Kurt in the darkness, running his fingertips against the cool sheets between them. He wants to reach out and take his hand, but he doesn't know if it would be welcome.
“So what's actually under all of that gel anyway? Because you seem kinda desperate about the gel situation and now I'm intrigued.”
Blaine breathes out a groan and Kurt laughs into his pillow again. “Chaos, Kurt. Pure chaos.”
“Hair chaos.”
“Yes. The very worst kind of chaos.”
Blaine falls asleep that night with a smile on his lips and Kurt's giggles replaying on a loop in his head.
*~*~*
Since Kurt came home having obviously been slushied for the third day in a row, no matter how hard he'd tried to hide it, Blaine has been continually bringing up the possibility of him accompanying Kurt to school. He'd been subtle at first, just hinting, but Kurt didn't think anything of it because it was an impossibility. But now after three days of his emotional exhaustion being witnessed for the first time, seeing as he hasn't had the chance to get himself together before seeing Blaine like he does with his dad, well, Blaine is outright saying it.
“There has got to be a way to get me enrolled.”
Kurt heaves a sigh and sits down next to Blaine on the bed. Even though his dad is working late, they still don't want to chance hanging around upstairs. “Look - there might be, but what's the point? You won't be able to stop people from treating me like - They'll only end up doing all of the same things they do to me to you. And you don't need that, Blaine.”
“But Kurt, even if that's true, I want to be there with you. The thought of you going through that alone is killing me. And, well, this... situation... might be more permanent than we've been willing to admit. When I was growing up, I heard you, things fell through... I always had some sense of the thing. But I don't anymore, Kurt. It's just... gone. I can't explain it. But I might be here for good. And if that's the case, I'm going to need to graduate from high school.”
Kurt can't tell if Blaine truly believes what he's saying, or if he's grasping at straws to get Kurt to agree with him about enrolling at McKinley, but either way, Blaine is right. They have to set things in motion. Blaine has been hiding in his room for nearly a week already, and he can't hide there forever. At some point they will slip up and his dad will find out. At some point something will change. And Blaine needs to live his life, even if he's trapped in a strange place.
“I know just the duo who could manage it,” he tells Blaine. “School records and ID.” Blaine smiles widely and Kurt tries his best to return it. “Now if only I can get them to talk to me without throwing me in a dumpster.”
Blaine furrows his brow and turns to face Kurt fully, tucking his legs underneath him, and Kurt sighs again and does the same.
“The mohawked jock, Noah Puckerman, and his brainy sidekick, Artie Abrams. People call them the forger and the hacker. Puck can reproduce any type of ID to perfection, and Artie - his hacking skills are legendary. He can change people's grades, make speeding tickets disappear, you name it. I heard that he even rigged the homecoming elections last year and was paid by Sugar Motta with an entire warehouse full of alcohol. Probably stolen... I think her dad's in the mafia.”
Blaine's eyebrows shoot up near his hairline. “A warehouse full?”
“Yeah. Speaking of which... they're going to expect payment. And with those two... God knows what it might be.” Kurt shakes his head. “But we'll worry about that when we have to. One thing at a time.”
Serendipity is on Kurt's side, because he spots Puck and Artie hanging out in the parking lot of his favourite coffee shop the next morning, guitars out, singing for loose change and crumpled dollar bills.
Kurt orders and drinks most of his coffee before deciding how to approach them, half hoping they will be gone before he gets to them and he'll have an excuse to put it off.
But they're still strumming and crooning when he steps out of the doors. With a sigh, he wanders over, pulling a couple of bills out of his wallet on the way.
When he leans down to let them drift into the open guitar case next to Artie's wheelchair, Puck stops mid-song. When Kurt looks up, he's glaring down at him.
“What's up, homo? Hope you don't think you're gettin' a strip tease for that.”
Kurt narrows his eyes. He should have known better.
“Be polite, Puckerman,” Artie says in a warning tone. “The boy just paid for our coffee. And they said if you start anything out here again we'll have to find a new spot.”
“Whatever,” Puck says with a shrug and flips his guitar onto his back. “Look, dude, I appreciate the business and all, just sayin', the Puckster don't show no skin for a measly couple a bucks. You're gonna need to throw at least a... twenty in there if you want to see my guns.”
Kurt screws up his face. “Um... I don't want to see your anything. I just need, well, a bit of paperwork, if you know what I mean...?”
“Ah,” Artie says, resting an elbow on his chair and stroking his bare chin. “A business proposal.”
“You're lookin' to hit up Scandals for a man,” Puck says knowingly.
“No, actually. It's not for me. It's for a friend. He needs, well, a school record.”
“Like he wants people to think he's a badass?” Puck asks.
“No. He wants to exist in the system. He's not from here and he wants to enrol at McKinley. So he'll need ID and other documentation.”
“Why the hell would anyone want to go to McKinley?” Puck asks, but Artie shushes him with a wave of his hand.
“Okay, that's easy enough. And we ask no questions. We just need names, photos and other pertinent data,” Artie says. Kurt nods and pulls an envelope containing all of Blaine's information out of his bag.
“He's a good student and he wrote down the classes he'd like to be placed in. There are also headshots and copies of all his ID.”
Artie flips through with nimble fingers and nods. “This seems to all be in order. Only one other thing.”
Here it comes, Kurt thinks, waiting to be told what hurdles he'll need to jump through. He hopes all they want is money, because between his bank account and the cash Blaine had in his wallet, they'd be able to cover that easily enough. But things are rarely so cut and dry with these two.
Artie motions with his head to Puckerman, who bends down. They speak quietly together for several minutes while Kurt stands by and fidgets, hoping he isn't spotted doing business with them in broad daylight.
“So,” Artie begins once they've finished and Puck is standing straight again, watching Kurt with narrowed eyes and pursed lips. “We heard a rumour about you.” Oh God, Kurt thinks, mentally running through the disgustingly long list of lies about him.
“Yeah, we heard you can sing. That you take lessons with the same vocal coach that used to work with Berry.”
Kurt is stunned for a moment. He shakes himself out of it. “I, ah... what?”
“Can you sing, gay dude?”
“Um, I can, yes.”
Artie grins. “Perfect. Then we will do all of this for you, and as payment, you have to join glee club. We're short members and we need to be able to compete at sectionals in two weeks.”
“Glee club?” Kurt stares at them, baffled. He had been expecting all manner of ridiculous requests, but glee club? Really?
“Yeah, dude. Don't knock it!” Puckerman retorts, pulling his guitar off his back like he's going to use it as a weapon. “Glee club is surprisingly cool.”
Kurt puts his hands up in front of him. “I believe you! That's not - I was just surprised is all.”
Artie shrugs and motions at Puck with his head again and Puck puts down the guitar.
“So we'll see you in the choir room at 3:15 on Monday,” Artie says. “You know where the choir room is?”
“Yeah,” Kurt answers.
“Good, see ya then, pretty boy,” Puck says. “We're out!”
Kurt backs away slowly as Puck gathers the money in the open guitar case and sets in in Artie's lap before wheeling him away towards a beat up minivan.
When Kurt gets home that day, he is thankfully still wearing the outfit he put on before leaving. He'd seen Puck out of the corner of his eye in the hallway before classes, and again in the afternoon, and it had almost seemed as though the slushie break may have been due to his machinations. But it couldn't have been; he must have been imagining things.
Artie had given him the 'things are going along well' nod after their shared fourth period math class, and so Kurt has good news for Blaine when he walks down the stairs into his room.
But he can't find Blaine anywhere.
Panic gurgles up inside him, coming out in a teary gasp. Had the light returned? Had the hole opened up? Was Blaine gone? He searches his bed for a note, his nightstand, anywhere.
“Blaine? Blaine!”
And Blaine comes stumbling out of Kurt's closet, a feather boa around his neck and shoulders. “Hey!” he says brightly, blowing a feather off his nose. “I got bored so I decided to explore the deep recesses of your enormous closet. You've got some really neat outfits in there!” He pauses for a moment at the stricken look on Kurt's face. “Kurt, what's wrong? Should I not have? I'm really sorry -”
“No, it's not... I thought you'd gone. I thought it must have -” He motions to the ceiling and makes a spinning motion with his finger. “I'm so relieved.” And he could slap himself for being so selfish. Blaine has a family and friends and a school without bullies. “Not that, I mean, that would be for the best, I mean. If it had. If you had. Been able to go home, I mean.”
Blaine gives him a weak smile and unwraps the feather boa from around his body.
Kurt doesn't get the chance to tell Blaine about Artie and Puck until they're in bed. He'd been too frazzled after their conversation to bring it up, and then his dad had gotten chatty after dinner, wanting Kurt to sit with him since he'd mistakenly let slip that he had no homework.
“And they weren't nearly as horrible as I was expecting, so that's a plus,” he whispers to Blaine. “I mean, there was some name calling, but I'm used to much worse, so...”
Blaine gives him a commiserating look in the low light of the room, curling in closer and resting a hand on his shoulder. He can feel each point of contact as Blaine's thumb swipes back and forth. It's soothing. He feels his breaths steady and his throat itch with the urge to cry. So few things soothe him. So few people ever touch him in a way that is meant to comfort rather than hurt.
“Blaine?”
“Mm?”
“Are you... like me? I, ah... are you gay... like me?”
Blaine's thumb stops for a second and Kurt's heart right along with it. He waits for it. The hatred. The rejection. He feels about to choke with it. “Yeah,” Blaine whispers back. “I'm gay.”
And Kurt does choke. He makes an embarrassing honking sound like some sort of bird and the tears run, unbidden, from his eyes.
“Hey, what's wrong?” Blaine asks, his voice soft. He moves closer to Kurt and wraps him in a one-armed hug.
“I nev... I never told any-- anyone before,” Kurt stutters out.
“No one?” Blaine asks slowly. He holds Kurt tighter and Kurt cries against the side of his neck. He shakes his head.
“Who would I have to tell? But they know anyway. They call me names - say horrible, perverted things to me, and -” He loses it again, sobbing in earnest, soaking Blaine's borrowed t-shirt through to his skin. He tries to breathe, tries to calm down lest his father hear him and come downstairs.
Blaine rocks him, whispering all the right things: It's okay. It'll all be okay. And even more importantly: I'm here. I'm here now. That's the only thing that can quiet him.
*
Artie somehow inexplicably gets Kurt's cell phone number and calls him on Saturday morning.
“It's a go,” he says. “Tell your boy to check in at the office for his schedule, and check in with the Puckzilla in the parking lot for his other important documentation.”
“Thanks, Artie.”
“Don't mention it, brotha. Just make sure you show up you know where, you know when and we square.”
And he disconnects the call.
Kurt stares at his phone incredulously for a moment before shaking his head.
“Everything is set,” he tells Blaine. “Besides one thing...”
Blaine raises an eyebrow in question.
“You need a wardrobe.” He walks around Blaine, looking him over. “My clothes will work in part, but you need some special pieces that fit you properly. Let's go shopping, seeing as you need that hair gel.” Kurt winks before he can stop himself and he feels like falling through the floor. Where's a good multidimensional portal when you need one? He turns away from Blaine with a roll of his eyes and goes to grab a jacket.
next
It's raining on the first day Kurt leaves Blaine alone to go to school.
He spends the morning listening to old records on a rickety turntable, the skips and the static making him feel lazy and contented. He hums along, watching fallen raindrops pool outside of the window. He jumps at every sound, worried that Mr. Hummel is going to make a surprise appearance and find him lounging about in his house.
Mr. Hummel does not, thankfully, make an appearance that day, and Blaine even garners the courage to shuffle upstairs and make himself a quick sandwich at lunch time like Kurt told him he should. He remains completely alone amongst Kurt's things and Kurt's smell until a quarter to four, when the door slams upstairs and Kurt himself tromps down into the basement.
His face is red and blotchy and his once pristine white jeans and blue shirt and scarf are covered in bright purple dye. Angry tears are streaming from his eyes when he enters the room and tosses his bag on the floor.
“Oh my God, Kurt, what happened? Are you okay?” Blaine rushes over to meet him, but Kurt backs away from his outstretched hand.
“Just some idiots. I'm used to it.” Blaine's heart breaks as Kurt swipes at his eyes, turning his head away to try and hide the fact that he's crying.
Blaine approaches again. “It's okay, Kurt,” he says in a soft voice.
“No, it's not!” Kurt bites back. “Nothing about this is okay!”
Blaine shakes his head. “No. I mean, I understand. I meant -”
“How could you possibly -” Kurt doesn't finish, just shakes his head and turns away, twisting his scarf between his fingers.
“What I meant was, it was like that for me, at my old school, and then... well, after I, ah...” He clears his throat. Best not to think about that, not now. “Well, afterward, I transferred to a new school with a zero tolerance, no bullying policy and things got better.”
Kurt flips back to face him, letting out a snort of derision. “Right, because of course such a place exists in magical lala land wherever the hell you came from! Well, not around here!”
Blaine steps back. He feels as though he's been slapped across the face. Kurt's expression softens almost immediately and fresh tears wash to the fronts of his eyes. “I'm sorry,” he whispers. “I didn't mean to take it out on you. I - It's just so... unfair and frustrating and so completely -” Kurt's shoulders begin to shake as his voice breaks, tears running over his stained cheeks in long, thin streams.
“Hurtful,” Blaine finishes for him. He knows. Understands the pain and frustration and feeling of helplessness. He moves towards Kurt and reaches out to lay a hand on his shoulder, trying to let Kurt know that's he's there, he has always been there. “I know. It's okay.”
Blaine stands there squeezing Kurt's shoulder until he's all cried out. He watches as Kurt gently unties his stained scarf and sighs, his lips turned down as he runs it between his fingers. It's very striking, a strange skull motif, and it's obvious that Kurt is very fond of it. Blaine wishes he could find whoever did this to Kurt and make them pay. “Hey,” he says instead, “do you want some help? I'm pretty good at getting stains out. Lots of practise.”
Kurt nods a little and lays the scarf over the back of his desk chair. “I, um... I'm going to get in the shower before my dad gets home and sees... I'll toss my clothes outside if you want to try. The shirt is a lost cause, I don't know about the jeans. And my scarf...” He looks back towards it wistfully. “It was my favourite McQueen. Should have known better than to wear it to that place.” His mouth turns down again and Blaine has to stop himself from rushing forward and taking Kurt into his arms. His hands twitch, his body itches with the need to do just that.
Instead he nods his head and picks it up from where Kurt had laid it. “I'll get it out. Promise. Where's your -”
Kurt is watching him strangely. Blaine can't quite manage to make out his expression. “Oh,” Kurt answers after a second's pause. “Laundry's that way.” He turns his whole body away to point, chewing on his bottom lip and then making a face when he tastes whatever had been thrown at him. “Everything's in there, in the cabinet above the washer.”
Blaine nods again. “Okay. I'll get set up while you get cleaned up,” he says, trying to sound cheerful.
Kurt hesitates on his way to the closet. “I - thank you, Blaine,” he says, voice soft. Blaine smiles and hurries away to the laundry room with Kurt's scarf before he can give in to the urge to embrace him that's come back full force.
He leaves the scarf soaking and walks towards the closed door of Kurt's bathroom. Steam leaks out from under the door and Blaine can smell something floral and the slightest bit woodsy in the air when he bends down to pick up Kurt's stained clothing. He smiles to himself, taking a deep sniff. Kurt is humming something from within the bathroom. It starts out quiet, but he is soon singing, his voice rising, soaring, breathtaking. Blaine shuts his eyes and leans against the closed door and listens with his entire body, lets the music soak in. When he hears Kurt turn off the shower, he hurries away to the laundry room, eyes damp and nose sniffling.
Kurt is still quiet after eating and spending some time with his father. He sits with Blaine and watches a movie and does his homework and they prod at the ceiling again, looking for the light. But Blaine knows deep in his heart that the light is gone, at least for now. He can't sense it, can't smell it like he had before, for years. He feels different. He wonders if it is gone and worries about what he will do. Until he looks over at Kurt's sad eyes, and then he worries about something entirely different.
What if he was with Kurt? Could he protect him? Blaine hadn't been protected by having a friend, but maybe this time would be different. The need to do something burns his insides and crawls up his throat, leaving a lump that he can't seem to swallow away.
The next day Kurt comes home from school with entirely different clothes than the ones he'd left wearing and Blaine says nothing, just gives in to his urge to hug him. He holds him close for as long as he dares, trying not to nudge his nose against the skin of Kurt's neck and smell.
They spend the evening halfheartedly researching portals and vortexes and alternate universes, but they meet mostly dead ends. It's all fiction, stories. Nothing makes any sense. Kurt apologizes and Blaine smiles and waves it away and they crawl into bed next to each other like they've been doing it for years.
“Kurt?”
“Yeah?”
“Can we go shopping? Because I kinda used most of your hair gel. It was a pretty tiny little pot.”
Kurt snorts and has to shove his face into the pillow to mask the sound. “Of course we can.” It's quiet for a moment, Blaine grinning into the dark, happy that he'd made Kurt laugh, and then Kurt speaks up again. “Blaine?”
“Hmm?”
“Thank you.”
“Hey, no problem. I'm here for all of your scarf saving or hugging needs.”
“Not just - Thanks for being here. I've never - I appreciate it.”
“I'm so glad I can help, even the smallest bit.” Blaine smiles over at Kurt in the darkness, running his fingertips against the cool sheets between them. He wants to reach out and take his hand, but he doesn't know if it would be welcome.
“So what's actually under all of that gel anyway? Because you seem kinda desperate about the gel situation and now I'm intrigued.”
Blaine breathes out a groan and Kurt laughs into his pillow again. “Chaos, Kurt. Pure chaos.”
“Hair chaos.”
“Yes. The very worst kind of chaos.”
Blaine falls asleep that night with a smile on his lips and Kurt's giggles replaying on a loop in his head.
*~*~*
Since Kurt came home having obviously been slushied for the third day in a row, no matter how hard he'd tried to hide it, Blaine has been continually bringing up the possibility of him accompanying Kurt to school. He'd been subtle at first, just hinting, but Kurt didn't think anything of it because it was an impossibility. But now after three days of his emotional exhaustion being witnessed for the first time, seeing as he hasn't had the chance to get himself together before seeing Blaine like he does with his dad, well, Blaine is outright saying it.
“There has got to be a way to get me enrolled.”
Kurt heaves a sigh and sits down next to Blaine on the bed. Even though his dad is working late, they still don't want to chance hanging around upstairs. “Look - there might be, but what's the point? You won't be able to stop people from treating me like - They'll only end up doing all of the same things they do to me to you. And you don't need that, Blaine.”
“But Kurt, even if that's true, I want to be there with you. The thought of you going through that alone is killing me. And, well, this... situation... might be more permanent than we've been willing to admit. When I was growing up, I heard you, things fell through... I always had some sense of the thing. But I don't anymore, Kurt. It's just... gone. I can't explain it. But I might be here for good. And if that's the case, I'm going to need to graduate from high school.”
Kurt can't tell if Blaine truly believes what he's saying, or if he's grasping at straws to get Kurt to agree with him about enrolling at McKinley, but either way, Blaine is right. They have to set things in motion. Blaine has been hiding in his room for nearly a week already, and he can't hide there forever. At some point they will slip up and his dad will find out. At some point something will change. And Blaine needs to live his life, even if he's trapped in a strange place.
“I know just the duo who could manage it,” he tells Blaine. “School records and ID.” Blaine smiles widely and Kurt tries his best to return it. “Now if only I can get them to talk to me without throwing me in a dumpster.”
Blaine furrows his brow and turns to face Kurt fully, tucking his legs underneath him, and Kurt sighs again and does the same.
“The mohawked jock, Noah Puckerman, and his brainy sidekick, Artie Abrams. People call them the forger and the hacker. Puck can reproduce any type of ID to perfection, and Artie - his hacking skills are legendary. He can change people's grades, make speeding tickets disappear, you name it. I heard that he even rigged the homecoming elections last year and was paid by Sugar Motta with an entire warehouse full of alcohol. Probably stolen... I think her dad's in the mafia.”
Blaine's eyebrows shoot up near his hairline. “A warehouse full?”
“Yeah. Speaking of which... they're going to expect payment. And with those two... God knows what it might be.” Kurt shakes his head. “But we'll worry about that when we have to. One thing at a time.”
Serendipity is on Kurt's side, because he spots Puck and Artie hanging out in the parking lot of his favourite coffee shop the next morning, guitars out, singing for loose change and crumpled dollar bills.
Kurt orders and drinks most of his coffee before deciding how to approach them, half hoping they will be gone before he gets to them and he'll have an excuse to put it off.
But they're still strumming and crooning when he steps out of the doors. With a sigh, he wanders over, pulling a couple of bills out of his wallet on the way.
When he leans down to let them drift into the open guitar case next to Artie's wheelchair, Puck stops mid-song. When Kurt looks up, he's glaring down at him.
“What's up, homo? Hope you don't think you're gettin' a strip tease for that.”
Kurt narrows his eyes. He should have known better.
“Be polite, Puckerman,” Artie says in a warning tone. “The boy just paid for our coffee. And they said if you start anything out here again we'll have to find a new spot.”
“Whatever,” Puck says with a shrug and flips his guitar onto his back. “Look, dude, I appreciate the business and all, just sayin', the Puckster don't show no skin for a measly couple a bucks. You're gonna need to throw at least a... twenty in there if you want to see my guns.”
Kurt screws up his face. “Um... I don't want to see your anything. I just need, well, a bit of paperwork, if you know what I mean...?”
“Ah,” Artie says, resting an elbow on his chair and stroking his bare chin. “A business proposal.”
“You're lookin' to hit up Scandals for a man,” Puck says knowingly.
“No, actually. It's not for me. It's for a friend. He needs, well, a school record.”
“Like he wants people to think he's a badass?” Puck asks.
“No. He wants to exist in the system. He's not from here and he wants to enrol at McKinley. So he'll need ID and other documentation.”
“Why the hell would anyone want to go to McKinley?” Puck asks, but Artie shushes him with a wave of his hand.
“Okay, that's easy enough. And we ask no questions. We just need names, photos and other pertinent data,” Artie says. Kurt nods and pulls an envelope containing all of Blaine's information out of his bag.
“He's a good student and he wrote down the classes he'd like to be placed in. There are also headshots and copies of all his ID.”
Artie flips through with nimble fingers and nods. “This seems to all be in order. Only one other thing.”
Here it comes, Kurt thinks, waiting to be told what hurdles he'll need to jump through. He hopes all they want is money, because between his bank account and the cash Blaine had in his wallet, they'd be able to cover that easily enough. But things are rarely so cut and dry with these two.
Artie motions with his head to Puckerman, who bends down. They speak quietly together for several minutes while Kurt stands by and fidgets, hoping he isn't spotted doing business with them in broad daylight.
“So,” Artie begins once they've finished and Puck is standing straight again, watching Kurt with narrowed eyes and pursed lips. “We heard a rumour about you.” Oh God, Kurt thinks, mentally running through the disgustingly long list of lies about him.
“Yeah, we heard you can sing. That you take lessons with the same vocal coach that used to work with Berry.”
Kurt is stunned for a moment. He shakes himself out of it. “I, ah... what?”
“Can you sing, gay dude?”
“Um, I can, yes.”
Artie grins. “Perfect. Then we will do all of this for you, and as payment, you have to join glee club. We're short members and we need to be able to compete at sectionals in two weeks.”
“Glee club?” Kurt stares at them, baffled. He had been expecting all manner of ridiculous requests, but glee club? Really?
“Yeah, dude. Don't knock it!” Puckerman retorts, pulling his guitar off his back like he's going to use it as a weapon. “Glee club is surprisingly cool.”
Kurt puts his hands up in front of him. “I believe you! That's not - I was just surprised is all.”
Artie shrugs and motions at Puck with his head again and Puck puts down the guitar.
“So we'll see you in the choir room at 3:15 on Monday,” Artie says. “You know where the choir room is?”
“Yeah,” Kurt answers.
“Good, see ya then, pretty boy,” Puck says. “We're out!”
Kurt backs away slowly as Puck gathers the money in the open guitar case and sets in in Artie's lap before wheeling him away towards a beat up minivan.
When Kurt gets home that day, he is thankfully still wearing the outfit he put on before leaving. He'd seen Puck out of the corner of his eye in the hallway before classes, and again in the afternoon, and it had almost seemed as though the slushie break may have been due to his machinations. But it couldn't have been; he must have been imagining things.
Artie had given him the 'things are going along well' nod after their shared fourth period math class, and so Kurt has good news for Blaine when he walks down the stairs into his room.
But he can't find Blaine anywhere.
Panic gurgles up inside him, coming out in a teary gasp. Had the light returned? Had the hole opened up? Was Blaine gone? He searches his bed for a note, his nightstand, anywhere.
“Blaine? Blaine!”
And Blaine comes stumbling out of Kurt's closet, a feather boa around his neck and shoulders. “Hey!” he says brightly, blowing a feather off his nose. “I got bored so I decided to explore the deep recesses of your enormous closet. You've got some really neat outfits in there!” He pauses for a moment at the stricken look on Kurt's face. “Kurt, what's wrong? Should I not have? I'm really sorry -”
“No, it's not... I thought you'd gone. I thought it must have -” He motions to the ceiling and makes a spinning motion with his finger. “I'm so relieved.” And he could slap himself for being so selfish. Blaine has a family and friends and a school without bullies. “Not that, I mean, that would be for the best, I mean. If it had. If you had. Been able to go home, I mean.”
Blaine gives him a weak smile and unwraps the feather boa from around his body.
Kurt doesn't get the chance to tell Blaine about Artie and Puck until they're in bed. He'd been too frazzled after their conversation to bring it up, and then his dad had gotten chatty after dinner, wanting Kurt to sit with him since he'd mistakenly let slip that he had no homework.
“And they weren't nearly as horrible as I was expecting, so that's a plus,” he whispers to Blaine. “I mean, there was some name calling, but I'm used to much worse, so...”
Blaine gives him a commiserating look in the low light of the room, curling in closer and resting a hand on his shoulder. He can feel each point of contact as Blaine's thumb swipes back and forth. It's soothing. He feels his breaths steady and his throat itch with the urge to cry. So few things soothe him. So few people ever touch him in a way that is meant to comfort rather than hurt.
“Blaine?”
“Mm?”
“Are you... like me? I, ah... are you gay... like me?”
Blaine's thumb stops for a second and Kurt's heart right along with it. He waits for it. The hatred. The rejection. He feels about to choke with it. “Yeah,” Blaine whispers back. “I'm gay.”
And Kurt does choke. He makes an embarrassing honking sound like some sort of bird and the tears run, unbidden, from his eyes.
“Hey, what's wrong?” Blaine asks, his voice soft. He moves closer to Kurt and wraps him in a one-armed hug.
“I nev... I never told any-- anyone before,” Kurt stutters out.
“No one?” Blaine asks slowly. He holds Kurt tighter and Kurt cries against the side of his neck. He shakes his head.
“Who would I have to tell? But they know anyway. They call me names - say horrible, perverted things to me, and -” He loses it again, sobbing in earnest, soaking Blaine's borrowed t-shirt through to his skin. He tries to breathe, tries to calm down lest his father hear him and come downstairs.
Blaine rocks him, whispering all the right things: It's okay. It'll all be okay. And even more importantly: I'm here. I'm here now. That's the only thing that can quiet him.
*
Artie somehow inexplicably gets Kurt's cell phone number and calls him on Saturday morning.
“It's a go,” he says. “Tell your boy to check in at the office for his schedule, and check in with the Puckzilla in the parking lot for his other important documentation.”
“Thanks, Artie.”
“Don't mention it, brotha. Just make sure you show up you know where, you know when and we square.”
And he disconnects the call.
Kurt stares at his phone incredulously for a moment before shaking his head.
“Everything is set,” he tells Blaine. “Besides one thing...”
Blaine raises an eyebrow in question.
“You need a wardrobe.” He walks around Blaine, looking him over. “My clothes will work in part, but you need some special pieces that fit you properly. Let's go shopping, seeing as you need that hair gel.” Kurt winks before he can stop himself and he feels like falling through the floor. Where's a good multidimensional portal when you need one? He turns away from Blaine with a roll of his eyes and goes to grab a jacket.
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