Fic: Inverted Dreaming 3/4
previous
*
The Lima Mall is not the best place to go searching for a new wardrobe, so Kurt drives out of Lima completely, heading for greener pastures past the, well, green pastures. As they drive, Blaine comments on all of the little things that are different and all of the things that are the same, his voice incredulous but not afraid. Kurt muses that he would be quaking in his boots were their roles reversed. He has no idea how Blaine can stay so calm when he comments on the fact that the street that should lead them to his house doesn't even exist.
They visit a vintage shop first, one where Kurt has had luck finding many great accessories in the past, as well as quite a few jackets and vests. Blaine all but shouts vintage class, so Kurt is hoping something will catch his eye.
Many things do.
Kurt stands by and grins as Blaine flips excitedly through racks of bow ties and hats and scarves and coos over classic saddle shoes. He chooses blazers and pullover knit vests and smart, crisp trousers. Kurt has never had so much fun shopping since he used to do it with his mother as a very young boy, when she would ignore the turned-up noses of the sales ladies and let him clomp around in peep-toe heels while she was shoe shopping.
He feels like floating he's so happy, sharing something he loves with someone he... well, he's not sure he can put a name on what he feels when he's near Blaine. Safe. Courageous. Cared for. Right. There is none of his usual feeling of displacement, of the jangling, off-centred, off-key otherness he usually feels. Everything feels... home. He feels how he always wished he would.
Blaine pulls a lovely wine coloured velvet smoking jacket from its hanger and holds it up against himself for Kurt to see, eyebrows raised in question. Kurt smiles and fingers the sleeve of it. It's really very lovely.
“Though I suppose,” Blaine says with a sigh, “it doesn't make much sense to waste money on something like this. I probably won't be here long enough to wear it anyway.”
Kurt feels his face fall, his smile break apart. He turns away as quickly as he can, hoping Blaine didn't see. He did.
“Kurt, what's wrong?”
Kurt shakes his head and tries to surreptitiously clear the lump from his throat. “Nothing. I, um... I'm not sure about that colour on you is all. We should, um, we should try something else.” It's a lie. It's the most perfect colour ever against the golden hint of Blaine's skin. But he bites his lip and pulls out a white button-up from a nearby rack. “This might be more versatile,” he says. He has to force out every word.
Next to the vintage clothing store there is a tiny, dusty looking book shop that Kurt has never paid attention to before. Everything in the window is faded and nondescript, even the pale caramel cat which sleeps in amongst the books in a patch of muted sunshine. Blaine looks over at Kurt and shrugs his shoulders, motioning to the door. Kurt tells him he'll meet him inside once he's placed all of their purchases in the car.
Once inside, he finds Blaine near the back, staring open-mouthed at a beat up old book with yellowing pages.
“What did ya find?” Kurt asks jovially. He runs his fingers over the rainbow of broken book spines lining the shelf directly in front of them. When Blaine doesn't answer, Kurt glances back and the smile he was sporting slowly slides from his face, leaving him with an expression much like the one worn by Blaine - pure shock and bewilderment.
On the dust cover of the book is a drawing - rings of light in a circular pattern above a room, and something like a wormhole, connecting the first room to another similar one, though it is upside down like... “Wonderland,” Kurt whispers. Wide-eyed, Blaine nods in return.
“I was just flipping through the new age section and I - It was just there.”
Kurt studies the book in Blaine's hand. It's tilted up slightly because Blaine has his thumb stuffed inside, holding a page. It's entitled: Soul Connectors, and written by someone with many letters after his name. “What does it -” he begins, just as Blaine flips the book back open and cuts him off, his voice high and excited.
“Listen to this,” he says, holding it under his nose. Kurt comes up behind him and looks down over his shoulder, trying to pay attention to the words rather than the adorable way Blaine traces them across the page with his fingertip.
“There are infinite realities beyond the one in which we exist. Strong connections through time and space and through these numerous realities are rare, but not unheard of. There are those who travel through these boundaries and make contact with their soul connections.”
“But what does that even mean?” Kurt reaches down and stops Blaine's wandering fingers, pushing them gently out of the way so he can read the passage again. He doesn't notice that as he's focused on the book, he hooks his chin over Blaine's shoulder. He doesn't notice until he feels the weight of Blaine's body lean back into him. His heart is racing in his chest and he takes a deep breath, hoping Blaine can't feel the bird-like fluttering of it against his back.
“There are a bunch of instances where people seem to have travelled here from somewhere else like I did,” Blaine replies. Kurt can feel the vibration of Blaine's words against his body. He shuts his eyes for half a second and tells himself not to lean down and take a sniff of Blaine's exposed neck like his brain keeps directing him to do. “And it theorizes that some of your world's missing persons are people who have gone on to another reality.
“Okay, here's one - Gertrude Oliver was a young girl living in Glasgow in 1843. For years she inexplicably found love letters pressed into books along with dried flowers, only for a young man in strangely patterned military attire to turn up one day and profess his undying love and devotion to her, saying he was from a hundred years in the future. After a round of evaluations by a team of highly respected doctors, he was found to be of sound mind. A month later he and Gertrude married, and they went on to have seven children. He was said to have been an odd man, often singing songs yet unheard of whilst in the company of friends and family.
“Where's Glasgow?” Blaine asks.
“In Scotland.” Kurt can practically feel the confusion in Blaine's posture. “That's in the United Kingdom. I really need to give you some geography lessons before unleashing you on the teachers at McKinley,” he tries to joke.
Blaine turns his head slightly, trying to look Kurt in the eye. Kurt can see him in his peripheral vision, but he can't stop staring at the book. What did it all mean? Why had Blaine fallen through his ceiling? Surely it didn't mean -
“I didn't tell you but, um... when I was about fourteen, I found a sheet of stationary with writing on it - song lyrics I think, but it was nothing I had ever heard tell of and I couldn't find any trace of the lyrics anywhere I looked. But, I, they were in your handwriting. I know that now. And after, for years after, there were other things -”
“And you heard me, you said. Heard my voice.”
Kurt can feel Blaine's nod against the side of his face. He reaches around Blaine's waist and up towards the book, his fingers joining Blaine's to flip through the worn pages.
“It's like some sort of glitch in the fabric of the universe,” Dr. Mason says of the phenomenon. “Two parts of a soul scattered across time and space, across worlds where they cannot reach each other. But there is no force so powerful as a human soul, and they find a way. They literally punch a hole through the fabric of the universe itself in order to find the missing piece of which they are in need.”
“Blaine? So are we -” Kurt begins. He lets go of the book and pulls away slightly, lifts his chin from Blaine's shoulder.
“I don't - I'm going to buy this book, okay? We'll just - Let's read the book.” Blaine shuts the book, running his hand over the cover once before turning and plastering his face with a smile that Kurt knows in his heart is fake. Is Blaine upset by what the book seems to be telling them, or is he simply filled with confusion the way Kurt is? Kurt doesn't know what to say to him, so he nods his head and follows him to the front of the shop.
They stop and pick up something to eat on the way home and cloister themselves in Kurt's room, trying on outfits and singing Beatles' songs to each other. They don't pick up the book from where Blaine had placed it on the nightstand. It's like they have an unspoken agreement that it is for later. Neither of them quite wants to deal with it yet, they just want to be for a little while.
They collapse on Kurt's bed, Blaine's head dangerously close to Kurt's pounding heart, and finish their song with heavy eyes and mumbling lips. Kurt feels a puff of air leave Blaine's mouth as his last note dies and he giggles to himself, letting his eyes drift closed. Just a cat nap, he tells himself. They've had a long day.
~*~*~*~
Blaine wakes up feeling pleasantly warm and content, wrapped up in something soft and yet firm that smells better than anything in the world. Kurt. He allows himself a moment to bask in the feeling, lets a smile spread lazily over his face and his nose nuzzle in just the slightest bit. Kurt is holding him tight in strong arms, pressing Blaine's head firmly against his broad chest, his fingers tangled in Blaine's hair.
He's been trying to figure out some way to stay, and at the same time figure out how to get home. He wants his family, but he's beginning to suspect that he wants, needs, Kurt even more. And if that book holds any water at all...
A sound comes from above. A throat clearing.
Blaine's eyes fly open and he removes his head from Kurt's chest. Kurt grumbles and tries to pull him back, fingers tugging his hair. When Blaine makes eye contact with the owner of the throat that was just being loudly cleared, he hears Kurt gasp from next to him.
“Dad! I, ah, I -”
“Kurt, I think you need to come upstairs with me. Now.”
Burt Hummel looks like a stern man, not to be trifled with. Blaine swallows audibly and makes a wobbly attempt at sitting up while Kurt scrambles off the bed next to him. He gives Blaine one last longing, terrified look over his shoulder as he follows his father toward the stairs. Blaine hears the mumbled beginnings of their conversation before the door at the top of the stairs is shut firmly behind them.
He paces the room, wall to wall, door to closet to bathroom and back again. He sits on the chair. He sits on the floor. He sits on the bottom step. He avoids the still rumpled bed.
Every once in a while he can make out Burt Hummel's deep, rumbling voice as it rises in volume, and Kurt's higher one. He wishes he could hear what they're saying, and at the same time he's relieved that he can't decipher a word. He's terrified for Kurt. He knows what it's like to have an unsupportive father, especially when vulnerable, especially when confessing something that you know he is not going to like.
It feels like years before Kurt is finally descending the staircase. Blaine hasn't heard a single peep from either Kurt or his father in quite a while by that point.
Kurt's eyes are red and puffy but he's wearing a crooked smile. He shrugs at Blaine when he stands and rushes up to him.
“He says you can stay. But in the guest room upstairs. I had to - I had to lie and tell him your parents kicked you out when they found out you're gay... sorry.” Kurt is gnawing on his bottom lip now and Blaine feels a churning in his stomach at the thought of his parents. They would never have done that, no matter how much they disapproved. No matter how much they tried and wished and thought things would change. He knew they still loved him. They just weren't always the warmest people.
“I, um... he... he thought you were my boyfriend. I didn't tell him otherwise. We talked about it, about my being gay and he says he loves me, so...” Kurt's eyes fill with fresh tears and he smiles that slightly wonky smile again, his chin quivering. “Anyway, you can stay with us, but he said I'm too young to be living with my boyfriend, so you have to move upstairs.” Kurt's face grows red and he laughs a little, enough to make Blaine grin.
“Thank you, Kurt. I know how hard that must have been for you, and it was because of me that -”
“No, I'm glad. Really. I mostly just feel relieved. Like I was carrying around this huge stone and someone lifted it off my back finally.... I can breathe. So... he gave me some money to redecorate your new room and he also says you need a cellphone, so I guess we're going shopping again.”
Blaine lets himself laugh this time, because Kurt looks the most carefree Blaine has ever seen him.
Ensconced in the guest room for the next two nights, Blaine barely sleeps. On Sunday he can't take it anymore. He has to go to school in the morning; he needs sleep. And in order to get it, well, he's pretty sure what he needs is Kurt. And so he tiptoes out of the guest room and down the stairs to the basement.
“Blaine?” Kurt asks as he approaches the bed. He sounds alert, not even the slightest bit drowsy and Blaine wonders if he's been having trouble sleeping as well. “What's wrong?”
Blaine perches on the edge of the mattress and peers at Kurt in the dark. “I, um, I can't sleep.”
“Nervous about school tomorrow? Look, I know I've said some pretty scary things about that place, but it'll be okay.”
Blaine shakes his head. “No, it's not that. I just... I feel like... It's stupid, but upstairs just now, and last night, it felt like the farthest I'd ever been away from you at night since I was seven years old.”
Kurt is silent for a moment and then he flips the corner of the blankets back and scooches over. “Come on in then.”
“But, your dad, he said -”
“Did you shut your bedroom door before coming down here?”
“Yeah.”
“Then it'll be fine. He's not gonna peek in on you or anything. And if he comes down here, I'll just tell him you had a bad dream or something. It'll be fine, Blaine.”
It's much easier to sleep after that, wrapped in the shared body heat and Kurt's scent and the rise and fall of his breaths.
*
On Monday morning, Kurt lurks outside of the office while Blaine checks in with the principal, an odd man who asks him all manner of nonsensical questions, including whether or not he's ever been a member of a devil worshipping cult that sacrifices badgers and exotic monkeys. He doesn't say one word about Blaine's forged school records or his ID, which he'd been given in the parking lot only minutes before by a guy who called himself Puckzilla and was a little heavy on the brofist.
Classes are mostly boring, though Blaine has a few slip-ups in history class, so he's glad he shares that period with Kurt, who nudges him and shakes his head ever so slightly, pointing at his notes when Blaine gets called upon by the teacher.
All in all, he's glad when the day is through and Kurt meets him at his locker. “Now it's just glee,” Kurt says with a groan. “You don't have to come with me if you don't want to, you know. They only specified that I needed to join.”
Blaine rolls his eyes. “Kurt, you only made that deal with them for me, and besides, I loved glee club at my old school. It'll be fun!” He throws Kurt a wide grin and bumps their shoulders together.
“If you say so,” Kurt mock grumbles and Blaine, feeling bold, hooks their arms together as they walk down the hall towards the choir room.
When they enter the room, there is chaos.
“How do we know he can even sing?” says a tiny girl with dark hair in a strident tone. “Just because someone takes voice lessons doesn't mean they have talent. We should just get a band guy to sway in the back. There are more than enough of you to back up my vocals.”
“I kill you!” shrieks a girl in a cheerleader's uniform, and a tall blond guy and another cheerleader hold her back as she attempts to lunge at the tiny brunette.
“Guys! Guys!” says the man at the front, the man who Blaine assumes is meant to be in charge of this rabble. “Quiet down!”
The cacophony of voices dies down to a low murmur and Blaine rests a comforting hand on Kurt's arm.
“Now,” the teacher continues. “Puck and Artie were good enough to recruit us some new members, so let's show them a little respect, all right? Show them that we are a family in this room, not a collection of zoo animals.”
“I hear dat,” says a guy in a wheelchair. From Kurt's description, this must be Artie, the one who hacked the district archives and created Blaine's student profile.
“Now, guys, would you like to introduce yourselves?” The teacher motions for them to step into the centre of the room.
“I'm Kurt Hummel,” Kurt begins. He turns his gaze on the brunette girl who accused him of not being able to sing and narrows his eyes. “And I do take vocal lessons and I can sing.”
Blaine stifles a chuckle in his sleeve and smiles up at Kurt. “I'm Blaine Anderson,” he says. “I just moved here from...”
“Argentia,” Kurt whispers out of the corner of his mouth.
“Argentia.”
“Isn't that the place with the big sun flag that we're not supposed to cry for because Madonna said so?” a blonde in a cheerleader uniform asks in a flat monotone. No one bothers to answer her.
“Mr. Schue, in the spirit of fairness,” the tiny brunette says, “I have to insist that these boys audition. Seeing as we all had to do the same. We have no idea if they can even sing.”
“Rachel -”
“If I had to audition, why shouldn't they? It's only right.” She nudges a bored looking, hulking guy in the seat next to her and he nods vigorously.
“Fine. Do you fellas mind singing us a little something?” The teacher, Mr. Schue asks.
Blaine shrugs and looks over at Kurt. “Beatles?”
They decide on The Long and Winding Road, because it seems appropriate and they both know the lyrics, with the added bonus of their having sung it together over the weekend. They sit down next to each other on the piano bench and get ready to begin. Their fingers bump and stumble and Blaine smiles at the flush he can see on Kurt's cheeks.
When Kurt starts in on the first verse, Blaine's breath catches in his throat. He remembers hearing Kurt sing this song, it feels like a lifetime ago.
The wild and windy night that the rain washed away
Has left a pool of tears, crying for the day
Why leave me standing here, let me know the way
Many times I've been alone and many times I've cried
Anyway you'll never know the many ways I've tried
And still they lead me back to the long and winding road
You left me standing here a long, long time ago
Don't leave me waiting here, lead me to your door
The room is silent for a moment after the music dies, and then the group erupts in a chorus of cheers and applause around them.
“Wow, guys!” Mr. Schue says enthusiastically, clapping his hands together, a broad grin on his face. “That was fantastic! Welcome to the club!”
“Yeah dudes,” Puckzilla adds in. “Welcome to our motley crew.”
A smiley Asian guy gives Blaine thumbs up and the blond who was holding back the cheerleader earlier starts trying to speak loudly in a British accent from the top riser.
The brunette girl, who Mr. Schue called Rachel, comes over with a smile as if to congratulate them. “It's really fortuitous timing on your part you know, Blaine Anderson, because we are about to begin our annual duet competition, and being my partner, well, let's just say it's a highly coveted spot.” She tries to play coy, fluttering her eyelashes and holding a hand over her heart.
“Rachel, I'm your boyfriend and I'm sitting right here,” says the tall guy with the vacant expression whom she had just been sitting beside.
She ignores him and continues to look up at Blaine with wide, slightly manic eyes. “Um... I'm flattered, but no thanks. I've already got the best duet partner.” He motions to Kurt, who is watching Rachel with a look of pure loathing.
“Leave him alone, Berry,” says another girl as she walks up from behind. She puts herself between Blaine and Rachel and extends a hand first to Blaine, and then Kurt. “I'm Mercedes Jones, and you boys killed that song.”
They go out for coffee after glee club with Mercedes Jones and her boyfriend, the blond guy who was doing all the accents, whose name is Sam Evans. They discuss past duet competitions, which as it turns out was just one, since the club only formed the year before. Apparently they've lost a couple of members due to moves and disinterest, and one to Coach Sue Sylvester, who Blaine doesn't know but whose very name causes the others to share wide-eyed looks around the table, as though speaking it might invoke the actual coach and have her appear in the middle of the coffee shop.
Mercedes tells them that Mr. Schue, for some reason, believes that making them all compete against one another makes for a stronger team, though all of her eye rolling seems to indicate that she believes otherwise.
“What we need,” she says, “is to beat Berry and that big idiot Finn Hudson. Mr. Schue always gives them everything.”
Later on at home, Kurt drags out books full of sheet music to find them the perfect song to do just that.
After a couple of hours and many impromptu singalongs, they decide on You Can't Hurry Love because, as Kurt says, you can never go wrong with Diana Ross. Blaine can't really argue with that; he's just glad that Kurt chose something that he actually knows.
They start work on choreography right away, laughing and falling all over each other until Burt gets home from work and Blaine follows Kurt into the kitchen to help make dinner.
They tell Burt all about glee club while they eat, the craziness and their triumphant duet and their potential new friends. Blaine finds himself doing most of the talking, noticing after he sees Kurt smiling at him in a strange way he hasn't noticed before. Burt is eyeing him oddly as well, but not unkindly, just the slightest bit contemplative.
They do their homework in the living room while Burt watches the news and then excuse themselves to run through their duet a few more times before bed. Burt is still up and watching football when Blaine heads to bed, and he sighs. He'll have to wait hours before he can slip downstairs to Kurt and actually manage to sleep.
As he's shifting and thrashing around in his blankets for the twentieth time, he realizes he forgot to brush his teeth and slides out of bed, grateful for the distraction.
He hears low voices coming from down the hall. Kurt laughs a little at whatever his father is saying and Blaine leans against the wall in the hallway. Something about hearing Kurt laugh makes Blaine feel so serene...
“I like him,” Burt says then. “Blaine. He seems like a good kid.”
“I like him, too,” Kurt says, sounding shy. “He's important to me.”
“I know he is, bud. You know he can stay here as long as he needs to. I just don't get parents like that. How they can abandon their own flesh and blood... and a nice kid like Blaine. Makes me so mad. You know, maybe you should get me in touch with them, Kurt. I have a few choice words...”
Blaine doesn't stick around to hear any of Burt's choice words. He should help Kurt out of the sticky situation instead of making him lie to his father again, but he can't bring himself to do it. The mention of his parents makes guilt spread thick and hot through his insides. He hasn't been thinking about them, hasn't been worrying, wondering if they are worrying. And the worst thing is - he's not sure if he would choose to leave and go back to them now if he had the chance. He loves them, he does, but he feels as though he needs Kurt. And he's been thumbing through the book he picked up and if what it says is true... He's meant to be here with Kurt.
But he may never see them again. His parents, his brother...
He falls asleep curled in a ball, wanting his family the way he'd so often wanted Kurt throughout his childhood.
*
His mother is calling his name in the distance. She sounds frantic, like she had when he'd hidden in amongst the racks of clothing at a department store when he was five, thinking it would be a funny trick to play. He still remembers the guilt he'd felt afterwards, when he'd seen her fear, her tears so real as she tried to chastise him around her relief and her vice-like embrace.
The sound of her voice is receding. He tries to call out to her, but his own voice leaves him -- his throat closing up and his mouth feeling stuffed with something thick and sweet like molasses.
His brother, Cooper is there in front of him, smiling in his usual way: cocky, self-assured. “What's the matter, Blainey?” he asks. “Cat got your tongue?”
And then Cooper is also gone, replaced by Mr. Whiskers, their childhood pet. He'd died when Blaine was seven, only a week after Cooper had moved out to California the minute he had received his high school diploma.
Mr. Whiskers meows and turns, tail swishing, and Blaine reaches out to pick him up, but is beaten to it by his father. His father scoops the cat up in his arms, only all he holds afterwards is a box. “Nothing lasts forever, Blaine,” he says with a look that is half care, half scold. “It's a hard lesson to learn, I know. But you will learn it.”
“Dad!” he finally manages, spitting out the treacly substance from his mouth. “Dad!” But his father has vanished. He can hear his mother again, crying, crying the way she had as she held his hand in the hospital when he'd been beaten up after a dance. “I'll find you a new school,” she'd promised. “I'll never send you back to that place. Never.”
“Mom!” He sobs as her voice fades away, pressing his face into something soft, though there is nothing in the space he occupies. He's floating. Everything is black and bare. “Mom!”
He startles awake. Someone is petting his hair, shushing him quietly. He thinks for a moment that it's her, but the smell is all wrong, and yet familiar. “It's okay, Blaine.” Kurt.
Blaine rolls over, burying his face in the crook of Kurt's neck and sobbing for all he's worth, his fingers clinging for dear life, scrabbling over Kurt's pyjama shirt.
“We'll get you home to them,” Kurt says, his voice wet. “We'll find a way.”
Once Blaine has calmed, once his sobs have faded into the occasional sniffle, he leans back and looks up into Kurt's face. His eyes are closed softly, but his expression is pained - his lips tight and his chin wobbly.
“I've been reading the book,” Blaine whispers. “Every instance, every story, the person who travelled from their own reality, they never went back where they came from, Kurt. They never can.”
“Never can or choose not to?” Kurt asks, eyes still shut. “You could still -”
“But that's just it,” Blaine answers. “If I had the choice I don't think - I don't know. Kurt -”
Kurt's eyes are open now. He slides a hand up Blaine's arm and shoulder and rests it against his jaw, cups it there, his thumb stroking slowly back and forth. The moonlight is shining through the slats in the blinds, making patterns on his face. His eyes flutter closed and when they reopen they look different. Settled maybe. Determined.
Kurt leans in, cupping Blaine's face more firmly. He presses their lips together. It's just the slightest, sweetest bit of pressure, the tiniest smacking sound and then he's gone before Blaine has had the chance to breathe him in, before he's had the chance to return the kiss.
“Sorry,” Kurt says, pulling back. “We should - We should try and get some sleep.”
Blaine doesn't want to ponder what exactly Kurt is sorry for. The situation, or the kiss itself? Blaine hopes it isn't the latter, because that might just break him.
next
*
The Lima Mall is not the best place to go searching for a new wardrobe, so Kurt drives out of Lima completely, heading for greener pastures past the, well, green pastures. As they drive, Blaine comments on all of the little things that are different and all of the things that are the same, his voice incredulous but not afraid. Kurt muses that he would be quaking in his boots were their roles reversed. He has no idea how Blaine can stay so calm when he comments on the fact that the street that should lead them to his house doesn't even exist.
They visit a vintage shop first, one where Kurt has had luck finding many great accessories in the past, as well as quite a few jackets and vests. Blaine all but shouts vintage class, so Kurt is hoping something will catch his eye.
Many things do.
Kurt stands by and grins as Blaine flips excitedly through racks of bow ties and hats and scarves and coos over classic saddle shoes. He chooses blazers and pullover knit vests and smart, crisp trousers. Kurt has never had so much fun shopping since he used to do it with his mother as a very young boy, when she would ignore the turned-up noses of the sales ladies and let him clomp around in peep-toe heels while she was shoe shopping.
He feels like floating he's so happy, sharing something he loves with someone he... well, he's not sure he can put a name on what he feels when he's near Blaine. Safe. Courageous. Cared for. Right. There is none of his usual feeling of displacement, of the jangling, off-centred, off-key otherness he usually feels. Everything feels... home. He feels how he always wished he would.
Blaine pulls a lovely wine coloured velvet smoking jacket from its hanger and holds it up against himself for Kurt to see, eyebrows raised in question. Kurt smiles and fingers the sleeve of it. It's really very lovely.
“Though I suppose,” Blaine says with a sigh, “it doesn't make much sense to waste money on something like this. I probably won't be here long enough to wear it anyway.”
Kurt feels his face fall, his smile break apart. He turns away as quickly as he can, hoping Blaine didn't see. He did.
“Kurt, what's wrong?”
Kurt shakes his head and tries to surreptitiously clear the lump from his throat. “Nothing. I, um... I'm not sure about that colour on you is all. We should, um, we should try something else.” It's a lie. It's the most perfect colour ever against the golden hint of Blaine's skin. But he bites his lip and pulls out a white button-up from a nearby rack. “This might be more versatile,” he says. He has to force out every word.
Next to the vintage clothing store there is a tiny, dusty looking book shop that Kurt has never paid attention to before. Everything in the window is faded and nondescript, even the pale caramel cat which sleeps in amongst the books in a patch of muted sunshine. Blaine looks over at Kurt and shrugs his shoulders, motioning to the door. Kurt tells him he'll meet him inside once he's placed all of their purchases in the car.
Once inside, he finds Blaine near the back, staring open-mouthed at a beat up old book with yellowing pages.
“What did ya find?” Kurt asks jovially. He runs his fingers over the rainbow of broken book spines lining the shelf directly in front of them. When Blaine doesn't answer, Kurt glances back and the smile he was sporting slowly slides from his face, leaving him with an expression much like the one worn by Blaine - pure shock and bewilderment.
On the dust cover of the book is a drawing - rings of light in a circular pattern above a room, and something like a wormhole, connecting the first room to another similar one, though it is upside down like... “Wonderland,” Kurt whispers. Wide-eyed, Blaine nods in return.
“I was just flipping through the new age section and I - It was just there.”
Kurt studies the book in Blaine's hand. It's tilted up slightly because Blaine has his thumb stuffed inside, holding a page. It's entitled: Soul Connectors, and written by someone with many letters after his name. “What does it -” he begins, just as Blaine flips the book back open and cuts him off, his voice high and excited.
“Listen to this,” he says, holding it under his nose. Kurt comes up behind him and looks down over his shoulder, trying to pay attention to the words rather than the adorable way Blaine traces them across the page with his fingertip.
“There are infinite realities beyond the one in which we exist. Strong connections through time and space and through these numerous realities are rare, but not unheard of. There are those who travel through these boundaries and make contact with their soul connections.”
“But what does that even mean?” Kurt reaches down and stops Blaine's wandering fingers, pushing them gently out of the way so he can read the passage again. He doesn't notice that as he's focused on the book, he hooks his chin over Blaine's shoulder. He doesn't notice until he feels the weight of Blaine's body lean back into him. His heart is racing in his chest and he takes a deep breath, hoping Blaine can't feel the bird-like fluttering of it against his back.
“There are a bunch of instances where people seem to have travelled here from somewhere else like I did,” Blaine replies. Kurt can feel the vibration of Blaine's words against his body. He shuts his eyes for half a second and tells himself not to lean down and take a sniff of Blaine's exposed neck like his brain keeps directing him to do. “And it theorizes that some of your world's missing persons are people who have gone on to another reality.
“Okay, here's one - Gertrude Oliver was a young girl living in Glasgow in 1843. For years she inexplicably found love letters pressed into books along with dried flowers, only for a young man in strangely patterned military attire to turn up one day and profess his undying love and devotion to her, saying he was from a hundred years in the future. After a round of evaluations by a team of highly respected doctors, he was found to be of sound mind. A month later he and Gertrude married, and they went on to have seven children. He was said to have been an odd man, often singing songs yet unheard of whilst in the company of friends and family.
“Where's Glasgow?” Blaine asks.
“In Scotland.” Kurt can practically feel the confusion in Blaine's posture. “That's in the United Kingdom. I really need to give you some geography lessons before unleashing you on the teachers at McKinley,” he tries to joke.
Blaine turns his head slightly, trying to look Kurt in the eye. Kurt can see him in his peripheral vision, but he can't stop staring at the book. What did it all mean? Why had Blaine fallen through his ceiling? Surely it didn't mean -
“I didn't tell you but, um... when I was about fourteen, I found a sheet of stationary with writing on it - song lyrics I think, but it was nothing I had ever heard tell of and I couldn't find any trace of the lyrics anywhere I looked. But, I, they were in your handwriting. I know that now. And after, for years after, there were other things -”
“And you heard me, you said. Heard my voice.”
Kurt can feel Blaine's nod against the side of his face. He reaches around Blaine's waist and up towards the book, his fingers joining Blaine's to flip through the worn pages.
“It's like some sort of glitch in the fabric of the universe,” Dr. Mason says of the phenomenon. “Two parts of a soul scattered across time and space, across worlds where they cannot reach each other. But there is no force so powerful as a human soul, and they find a way. They literally punch a hole through the fabric of the universe itself in order to find the missing piece of which they are in need.”
“Blaine? So are we -” Kurt begins. He lets go of the book and pulls away slightly, lifts his chin from Blaine's shoulder.
“I don't - I'm going to buy this book, okay? We'll just - Let's read the book.” Blaine shuts the book, running his hand over the cover once before turning and plastering his face with a smile that Kurt knows in his heart is fake. Is Blaine upset by what the book seems to be telling them, or is he simply filled with confusion the way Kurt is? Kurt doesn't know what to say to him, so he nods his head and follows him to the front of the shop.
They stop and pick up something to eat on the way home and cloister themselves in Kurt's room, trying on outfits and singing Beatles' songs to each other. They don't pick up the book from where Blaine had placed it on the nightstand. It's like they have an unspoken agreement that it is for later. Neither of them quite wants to deal with it yet, they just want to be for a little while.
They collapse on Kurt's bed, Blaine's head dangerously close to Kurt's pounding heart, and finish their song with heavy eyes and mumbling lips. Kurt feels a puff of air leave Blaine's mouth as his last note dies and he giggles to himself, letting his eyes drift closed. Just a cat nap, he tells himself. They've had a long day.
~*~*~*~
Blaine wakes up feeling pleasantly warm and content, wrapped up in something soft and yet firm that smells better than anything in the world. Kurt. He allows himself a moment to bask in the feeling, lets a smile spread lazily over his face and his nose nuzzle in just the slightest bit. Kurt is holding him tight in strong arms, pressing Blaine's head firmly against his broad chest, his fingers tangled in Blaine's hair.
He's been trying to figure out some way to stay, and at the same time figure out how to get home. He wants his family, but he's beginning to suspect that he wants, needs, Kurt even more. And if that book holds any water at all...
A sound comes from above. A throat clearing.
Blaine's eyes fly open and he removes his head from Kurt's chest. Kurt grumbles and tries to pull him back, fingers tugging his hair. When Blaine makes eye contact with the owner of the throat that was just being loudly cleared, he hears Kurt gasp from next to him.
“Dad! I, ah, I -”
“Kurt, I think you need to come upstairs with me. Now.”
Burt Hummel looks like a stern man, not to be trifled with. Blaine swallows audibly and makes a wobbly attempt at sitting up while Kurt scrambles off the bed next to him. He gives Blaine one last longing, terrified look over his shoulder as he follows his father toward the stairs. Blaine hears the mumbled beginnings of their conversation before the door at the top of the stairs is shut firmly behind them.
He paces the room, wall to wall, door to closet to bathroom and back again. He sits on the chair. He sits on the floor. He sits on the bottom step. He avoids the still rumpled bed.
Every once in a while he can make out Burt Hummel's deep, rumbling voice as it rises in volume, and Kurt's higher one. He wishes he could hear what they're saying, and at the same time he's relieved that he can't decipher a word. He's terrified for Kurt. He knows what it's like to have an unsupportive father, especially when vulnerable, especially when confessing something that you know he is not going to like.
It feels like years before Kurt is finally descending the staircase. Blaine hasn't heard a single peep from either Kurt or his father in quite a while by that point.
Kurt's eyes are red and puffy but he's wearing a crooked smile. He shrugs at Blaine when he stands and rushes up to him.
“He says you can stay. But in the guest room upstairs. I had to - I had to lie and tell him your parents kicked you out when they found out you're gay... sorry.” Kurt is gnawing on his bottom lip now and Blaine feels a churning in his stomach at the thought of his parents. They would never have done that, no matter how much they disapproved. No matter how much they tried and wished and thought things would change. He knew they still loved him. They just weren't always the warmest people.
“I, um... he... he thought you were my boyfriend. I didn't tell him otherwise. We talked about it, about my being gay and he says he loves me, so...” Kurt's eyes fill with fresh tears and he smiles that slightly wonky smile again, his chin quivering. “Anyway, you can stay with us, but he said I'm too young to be living with my boyfriend, so you have to move upstairs.” Kurt's face grows red and he laughs a little, enough to make Blaine grin.
“Thank you, Kurt. I know how hard that must have been for you, and it was because of me that -”
“No, I'm glad. Really. I mostly just feel relieved. Like I was carrying around this huge stone and someone lifted it off my back finally.... I can breathe. So... he gave me some money to redecorate your new room and he also says you need a cellphone, so I guess we're going shopping again.”
Blaine lets himself laugh this time, because Kurt looks the most carefree Blaine has ever seen him.
Ensconced in the guest room for the next two nights, Blaine barely sleeps. On Sunday he can't take it anymore. He has to go to school in the morning; he needs sleep. And in order to get it, well, he's pretty sure what he needs is Kurt. And so he tiptoes out of the guest room and down the stairs to the basement.
“Blaine?” Kurt asks as he approaches the bed. He sounds alert, not even the slightest bit drowsy and Blaine wonders if he's been having trouble sleeping as well. “What's wrong?”
Blaine perches on the edge of the mattress and peers at Kurt in the dark. “I, um, I can't sleep.”
“Nervous about school tomorrow? Look, I know I've said some pretty scary things about that place, but it'll be okay.”
Blaine shakes his head. “No, it's not that. I just... I feel like... It's stupid, but upstairs just now, and last night, it felt like the farthest I'd ever been away from you at night since I was seven years old.”
Kurt is silent for a moment and then he flips the corner of the blankets back and scooches over. “Come on in then.”
“But, your dad, he said -”
“Did you shut your bedroom door before coming down here?”
“Yeah.”
“Then it'll be fine. He's not gonna peek in on you or anything. And if he comes down here, I'll just tell him you had a bad dream or something. It'll be fine, Blaine.”
It's much easier to sleep after that, wrapped in the shared body heat and Kurt's scent and the rise and fall of his breaths.
*
On Monday morning, Kurt lurks outside of the office while Blaine checks in with the principal, an odd man who asks him all manner of nonsensical questions, including whether or not he's ever been a member of a devil worshipping cult that sacrifices badgers and exotic monkeys. He doesn't say one word about Blaine's forged school records or his ID, which he'd been given in the parking lot only minutes before by a guy who called himself Puckzilla and was a little heavy on the brofist.
Classes are mostly boring, though Blaine has a few slip-ups in history class, so he's glad he shares that period with Kurt, who nudges him and shakes his head ever so slightly, pointing at his notes when Blaine gets called upon by the teacher.
All in all, he's glad when the day is through and Kurt meets him at his locker. “Now it's just glee,” Kurt says with a groan. “You don't have to come with me if you don't want to, you know. They only specified that I needed to join.”
Blaine rolls his eyes. “Kurt, you only made that deal with them for me, and besides, I loved glee club at my old school. It'll be fun!” He throws Kurt a wide grin and bumps their shoulders together.
“If you say so,” Kurt mock grumbles and Blaine, feeling bold, hooks their arms together as they walk down the hall towards the choir room.
When they enter the room, there is chaos.
“How do we know he can even sing?” says a tiny girl with dark hair in a strident tone. “Just because someone takes voice lessons doesn't mean they have talent. We should just get a band guy to sway in the back. There are more than enough of you to back up my vocals.”
“I kill you!” shrieks a girl in a cheerleader's uniform, and a tall blond guy and another cheerleader hold her back as she attempts to lunge at the tiny brunette.
“Guys! Guys!” says the man at the front, the man who Blaine assumes is meant to be in charge of this rabble. “Quiet down!”
The cacophony of voices dies down to a low murmur and Blaine rests a comforting hand on Kurt's arm.
“Now,” the teacher continues. “Puck and Artie were good enough to recruit us some new members, so let's show them a little respect, all right? Show them that we are a family in this room, not a collection of zoo animals.”
“I hear dat,” says a guy in a wheelchair. From Kurt's description, this must be Artie, the one who hacked the district archives and created Blaine's student profile.
“Now, guys, would you like to introduce yourselves?” The teacher motions for them to step into the centre of the room.
“I'm Kurt Hummel,” Kurt begins. He turns his gaze on the brunette girl who accused him of not being able to sing and narrows his eyes. “And I do take vocal lessons and I can sing.”
Blaine stifles a chuckle in his sleeve and smiles up at Kurt. “I'm Blaine Anderson,” he says. “I just moved here from...”
“Argentia,” Kurt whispers out of the corner of his mouth.
“Argentia.”
“Isn't that the place with the big sun flag that we're not supposed to cry for because Madonna said so?” a blonde in a cheerleader uniform asks in a flat monotone. No one bothers to answer her.
“Mr. Schue, in the spirit of fairness,” the tiny brunette says, “I have to insist that these boys audition. Seeing as we all had to do the same. We have no idea if they can even sing.”
“Rachel -”
“If I had to audition, why shouldn't they? It's only right.” She nudges a bored looking, hulking guy in the seat next to her and he nods vigorously.
“Fine. Do you fellas mind singing us a little something?” The teacher, Mr. Schue asks.
Blaine shrugs and looks over at Kurt. “Beatles?”
They decide on The Long and Winding Road, because it seems appropriate and they both know the lyrics, with the added bonus of their having sung it together over the weekend. They sit down next to each other on the piano bench and get ready to begin. Their fingers bump and stumble and Blaine smiles at the flush he can see on Kurt's cheeks.
When Kurt starts in on the first verse, Blaine's breath catches in his throat. He remembers hearing Kurt sing this song, it feels like a lifetime ago.
The wild and windy night that the rain washed away
Has left a pool of tears, crying for the day
Why leave me standing here, let me know the way
Many times I've been alone and many times I've cried
Anyway you'll never know the many ways I've tried
And still they lead me back to the long and winding road
You left me standing here a long, long time ago
Don't leave me waiting here, lead me to your door
The room is silent for a moment after the music dies, and then the group erupts in a chorus of cheers and applause around them.
“Wow, guys!” Mr. Schue says enthusiastically, clapping his hands together, a broad grin on his face. “That was fantastic! Welcome to the club!”
“Yeah dudes,” Puckzilla adds in. “Welcome to our motley crew.”
A smiley Asian guy gives Blaine thumbs up and the blond who was holding back the cheerleader earlier starts trying to speak loudly in a British accent from the top riser.
The brunette girl, who Mr. Schue called Rachel, comes over with a smile as if to congratulate them. “It's really fortuitous timing on your part you know, Blaine Anderson, because we are about to begin our annual duet competition, and being my partner, well, let's just say it's a highly coveted spot.” She tries to play coy, fluttering her eyelashes and holding a hand over her heart.
“Rachel, I'm your boyfriend and I'm sitting right here,” says the tall guy with the vacant expression whom she had just been sitting beside.
She ignores him and continues to look up at Blaine with wide, slightly manic eyes. “Um... I'm flattered, but no thanks. I've already got the best duet partner.” He motions to Kurt, who is watching Rachel with a look of pure loathing.
“Leave him alone, Berry,” says another girl as she walks up from behind. She puts herself between Blaine and Rachel and extends a hand first to Blaine, and then Kurt. “I'm Mercedes Jones, and you boys killed that song.”
They go out for coffee after glee club with Mercedes Jones and her boyfriend, the blond guy who was doing all the accents, whose name is Sam Evans. They discuss past duet competitions, which as it turns out was just one, since the club only formed the year before. Apparently they've lost a couple of members due to moves and disinterest, and one to Coach Sue Sylvester, who Blaine doesn't know but whose very name causes the others to share wide-eyed looks around the table, as though speaking it might invoke the actual coach and have her appear in the middle of the coffee shop.
Mercedes tells them that Mr. Schue, for some reason, believes that making them all compete against one another makes for a stronger team, though all of her eye rolling seems to indicate that she believes otherwise.
“What we need,” she says, “is to beat Berry and that big idiot Finn Hudson. Mr. Schue always gives them everything.”
Later on at home, Kurt drags out books full of sheet music to find them the perfect song to do just that.
After a couple of hours and many impromptu singalongs, they decide on You Can't Hurry Love because, as Kurt says, you can never go wrong with Diana Ross. Blaine can't really argue with that; he's just glad that Kurt chose something that he actually knows.
They start work on choreography right away, laughing and falling all over each other until Burt gets home from work and Blaine follows Kurt into the kitchen to help make dinner.
They tell Burt all about glee club while they eat, the craziness and their triumphant duet and their potential new friends. Blaine finds himself doing most of the talking, noticing after he sees Kurt smiling at him in a strange way he hasn't noticed before. Burt is eyeing him oddly as well, but not unkindly, just the slightest bit contemplative.
They do their homework in the living room while Burt watches the news and then excuse themselves to run through their duet a few more times before bed. Burt is still up and watching football when Blaine heads to bed, and he sighs. He'll have to wait hours before he can slip downstairs to Kurt and actually manage to sleep.
As he's shifting and thrashing around in his blankets for the twentieth time, he realizes he forgot to brush his teeth and slides out of bed, grateful for the distraction.
He hears low voices coming from down the hall. Kurt laughs a little at whatever his father is saying and Blaine leans against the wall in the hallway. Something about hearing Kurt laugh makes Blaine feel so serene...
“I like him,” Burt says then. “Blaine. He seems like a good kid.”
“I like him, too,” Kurt says, sounding shy. “He's important to me.”
“I know he is, bud. You know he can stay here as long as he needs to. I just don't get parents like that. How they can abandon their own flesh and blood... and a nice kid like Blaine. Makes me so mad. You know, maybe you should get me in touch with them, Kurt. I have a few choice words...”
Blaine doesn't stick around to hear any of Burt's choice words. He should help Kurt out of the sticky situation instead of making him lie to his father again, but he can't bring himself to do it. The mention of his parents makes guilt spread thick and hot through his insides. He hasn't been thinking about them, hasn't been worrying, wondering if they are worrying. And the worst thing is - he's not sure if he would choose to leave and go back to them now if he had the chance. He loves them, he does, but he feels as though he needs Kurt. And he's been thumbing through the book he picked up and if what it says is true... He's meant to be here with Kurt.
But he may never see them again. His parents, his brother...
He falls asleep curled in a ball, wanting his family the way he'd so often wanted Kurt throughout his childhood.
*
His mother is calling his name in the distance. She sounds frantic, like she had when he'd hidden in amongst the racks of clothing at a department store when he was five, thinking it would be a funny trick to play. He still remembers the guilt he'd felt afterwards, when he'd seen her fear, her tears so real as she tried to chastise him around her relief and her vice-like embrace.
The sound of her voice is receding. He tries to call out to her, but his own voice leaves him -- his throat closing up and his mouth feeling stuffed with something thick and sweet like molasses.
His brother, Cooper is there in front of him, smiling in his usual way: cocky, self-assured. “What's the matter, Blainey?” he asks. “Cat got your tongue?”
And then Cooper is also gone, replaced by Mr. Whiskers, their childhood pet. He'd died when Blaine was seven, only a week after Cooper had moved out to California the minute he had received his high school diploma.
Mr. Whiskers meows and turns, tail swishing, and Blaine reaches out to pick him up, but is beaten to it by his father. His father scoops the cat up in his arms, only all he holds afterwards is a box. “Nothing lasts forever, Blaine,” he says with a look that is half care, half scold. “It's a hard lesson to learn, I know. But you will learn it.”
“Dad!” he finally manages, spitting out the treacly substance from his mouth. “Dad!” But his father has vanished. He can hear his mother again, crying, crying the way she had as she held his hand in the hospital when he'd been beaten up after a dance. “I'll find you a new school,” she'd promised. “I'll never send you back to that place. Never.”
“Mom!” He sobs as her voice fades away, pressing his face into something soft, though there is nothing in the space he occupies. He's floating. Everything is black and bare. “Mom!”
He startles awake. Someone is petting his hair, shushing him quietly. He thinks for a moment that it's her, but the smell is all wrong, and yet familiar. “It's okay, Blaine.” Kurt.
Blaine rolls over, burying his face in the crook of Kurt's neck and sobbing for all he's worth, his fingers clinging for dear life, scrabbling over Kurt's pyjama shirt.
“We'll get you home to them,” Kurt says, his voice wet. “We'll find a way.”
Once Blaine has calmed, once his sobs have faded into the occasional sniffle, he leans back and looks up into Kurt's face. His eyes are closed softly, but his expression is pained - his lips tight and his chin wobbly.
“I've been reading the book,” Blaine whispers. “Every instance, every story, the person who travelled from their own reality, they never went back where they came from, Kurt. They never can.”
“Never can or choose not to?” Kurt asks, eyes still shut. “You could still -”
“But that's just it,” Blaine answers. “If I had the choice I don't think - I don't know. Kurt -”
Kurt's eyes are open now. He slides a hand up Blaine's arm and shoulder and rests it against his jaw, cups it there, his thumb stroking slowly back and forth. The moonlight is shining through the slats in the blinds, making patterns on his face. His eyes flutter closed and when they reopen they look different. Settled maybe. Determined.
Kurt leans in, cupping Blaine's face more firmly. He presses their lips together. It's just the slightest, sweetest bit of pressure, the tiniest smacking sound and then he's gone before Blaine has had the chance to breathe him in, before he's had the chance to return the kiss.
“Sorry,” Kurt says, pulling back. “We should - We should try and get some sleep.”
Blaine doesn't want to ponder what exactly Kurt is sorry for. The situation, or the kiss itself? Blaine hopes it isn't the latter, because that might just break him.
next