Fic: Beauty (10/10)
Title: Beauty (10/10)
Rating: PG-13
Summary: Blaine Anderson was blessed with the perks of being beautiful in a world where people are literally separated into classes based on being "beautiful" or "ugly". Kurt Hummel was not. This is their journey together in throwing off the world's labels, of finding true beauty among a constellation of charades. This is their love story.
Word Count: this chapter, 3,417
A/N: Here it is, the last chapter! There will also be an epilogue, which will mainly wrap things up from Kurt's POV. But for Blaine, this is where the story ends! I hope you enjoy. :)
Chapter 10
“I’m going to a friend’s house,” Blaine called out to his parents as he picked up his car keys and headed for the door, struggling to keep the acridity out of his tone.
“Which friend, dear?” his mother called back from the couch.
“Her name’s Quinn Fabray.” He was waiting for the reaction of his father, who was sitting in another room.
He sighed. “A comely,” he added.
Still no reaction from the other room, but his mother nodded a quick assent and he made his escape.
After the finding of his true identity, it had been hard to keep the newfound knowledge under wraps. That mainly meaning, maintaining the falsely polite charade with his parents. He knew they probably had the best intentions in mind, but the “prejudice precepts” were largely a cementation of what had already occurred within society, and they hadn’t disrupted much, except maybe the self esteem of the public at large. There was no reason to have to make that change for him, make him into something he wasn’t. It was a fruitless move; it only served to make him all the more rebellious inside, even while his nature made him a soft hearted person in general. He didn’t want to have been given it all, he wanted to earn it. He wanted to deserve it.
The other thing Blaine had done after talking to Kurt, other than a lot of thinking and self-evaluation, was call Quinn. They had been texting back and forth since they met, but Blaine had never called her before. When he called, Quinn answered with a sort of alarm.
“Blaine, are you alright?” she had asked worryingly.
“I could be doing better,” he had answered. But Quinn heard the soft pain in his voice, and she offered to meet up then. Blaine ultimately refused, however, wanting to think it through for himself first before talking about it. Quinn then asked if the next day was alright, and Blaine agreed.
Quinn’s parents answered the door, and they were nice, but nicety did not determine a character. From experience, Blaine could sense that there was discord beneath their exhibitions, and when Quinn came down the stairs and smiled he smiled back like he knew and related, and Quinn looked like she knew then what he related to.
“I’ll take him away from you now, guys,” she interjected into her parents’ conversation with Blaine. Blaine smiled graciously, and left with Quinn to talk in her room.
“Blaine,” Quinn implored as soon as they got upstairs. “Tell me what’s wrong.”
“I’m not a comely,” Blaine spat out all at once, letting the words tumble out, letting them hit the tender pastels of Quinn’s walls and hoping they’d find calumny there amongst the truer, softer hues.
Quinn paused for a few moments. “Hold on, repeat that again, I don’t think I heard right.”
“I’m not a comely,” Blaine repeated, calmly this time.
“How do you know?”
“Long story short, my dad, since he works in the id rooms, wielded his power for me and made me a comely when I shouldn’t have been. And I know it doesn’t make much matter now, and no one knows except me and Kurt, but it’s still a big thing, you know?”
She sat still for a few moments.
“Let me tell you a story,” she began, a calculated edge to her voice. “Long before I became the Quinn Fabray you know now, I was someone else. Someone a lot less graceful and less ‘beautiful’ than I am now.”
She paused. “My name was Lucy Q. Fabray.”
“Lucy’s a pretty name,” Blaine hummed quietly.
“Yes, it was,” she agreed, an introspective tone to her voice, “but everything else about me was the exact opposite. I was chubby, friendless, and the biggest sort of loser you could meet. I couldn’t join a sport because I hopeless at all of them, I had glasses and braces…”
“…But then I changed myself. I’m not proud of it, but I did. I got a nose job, I got into shape. Keep in mind, they had classified me as a comely from birth, so there was obviously potential underneath it all. I was sort of a disappointment to my parents before. Maybe it was a pressure to live up to what I’d been told I was, or maybe it was internal pressure to be a ‘better person’. So now I’m here: cheerleader, beauty queen, blond and perfect. But I’m no different than I was before, I’m not a different person despite how I tried to be.”
“So what I’m trying to tell you, Blaine,” Quinn said, snapping back to reality and facing him, “is that what or who people tell you you’re supposed to be doesn’t matter. There’s always that fundamental you inside of you, and no one can change that, alright? No matter if you’re an unsightly or a comely or anything in between.”
“Thanks Quinn,” Blaine said sincerely, going to hug her. “That really helped.”
“You still gonna change the world?” she asked, smiling broadly.
“I never break my promises,” he responded, a big smile to match.
~~
After talking to Quinn, Blaine’s attitude about resolving this issue became determinedly regimented. He was going to find Sebastian at Dalton and talk to him, then he was going to confront his parents about it. That was the way it was going to go. No turning back.
Sebastian was easier to find than he imagined, a little to his detriment. He made himself a large presence in the hallways, and plenty of people knew about him. Asking around, Blaine had learned he was a new student to Dalton with a nasty attitude and an arrogance about him. Seeing him talk in the hallways, the way he drew himself up, the way he clearly enunciated every word he said, made those personality qualities evident.
Squaring his shoulders and cursing his disadvantageous height, he walked up to Sebastian.
“Are you Sebastian?” he asked cordially.
“Why yes I am, and you must be the famous, or should I say infamous, Blaine Anderson! You’re legend.”
Blaine simply waved off the compliments.
“Listen, could I talk to you in private for a minute?”
“Sure thing, buddy. Anything for the pride of Dalton Academy.”
They walked to a more isolated space.
“Sebastian, what are you trying to do getting to Kurt?”
“Oh, well now, I guess the cat’s out of the bag,” he grinned garishly. “Frankly, Blaine, I don’t care about Kurt. I care about you.” His last sentence sounded oddly sincere for what he was saying.
“You were blackmailing Kurt to get to me?” Feigned innocence.
“Oh boy, you’re just as oblivious as they say. Yes, I was. And I assume it worked, since you’re here now.”
“What did you tell him to do?” Blaine asked.
“Simple, to break up with you, and that you’d come running to me. And it worked. Like I told him, I always get what I want.”
“And you thought that doing all that would win over me?” he asked skeptically, a note of innocence still hanging on him. “And that telling me about it would endear you to me even more?”
Sebastian seemed hung up. “I… what would you suggest I do instead? Win you over with kindness?” He scoffed. “Naïve and childish. You don’t get what you want by playing the nice guy.”
“Oh, but you do,” Blaine countered, “Or maybe you would have had a chance if you had tried. But I’m with Kurt now, and there is no immediate chance that I will be with you, alright? Please leave Kurt and I alone, Sebastian.”
“Oh,” Sebastian almost snarled, “you think I’ll give up because you reject me? You don’t know what you want, Blaine, and I intend to show you what it is you do.”
“No,” Blaine opposed, “You won’t, because I’ve had people telling me that my entire life, and I’ve taken it. But not now. You are not going to tell me who I like or what to do with my life. You’re not going to tell me who or what I should identify with. I know all about the secret you’re threatening to spread about me! And honestly, I don’t care. Spread it if you’d like. But know if you do, you’re only spreading it with a vengeance that you will never be able to fully satisfy, and soon it’ll spiral out of control. So do what you wish, Sebastian, but I’m done here. Goodbye.”
Grinning childishly to himself about the feat he just accomplished, Blaine walked away, leaving a stunned Sebastian in his wake.
~~
The outside air was muggy with the threat of rain and their park currently unpopulated, except for a few singing winged birds flitting about against nature’s intent and a mutual future hanging in the clouds.
“Be with me when I confront my parents,” Blaine pleaded with Kurt, swinging his legs idly as he talked.
“You know I want to, but I can’t be there inside your house, it’ll only upset them even more and make everything about this harder.”
“Stop being logical, Kurt,” the metal playground contraption they were sitting on creaking slightly as Blaine talked. He moved closer, squeezing Kurt’s hand and pleading with proximity for him to turn his head and allow him to press in for a kiss. “I don’t want to be logical about this. I just want to get it over with.”
“Is this not illogical enough for you?” Kurt asked. “We’re sitting on top of this filthy metal thing, fully aware that it’s about to rain, designing the plan of attack for your death sentence. One that, I may add, is also unnecessary, given that your parents don’t need to know and it’s been a few days since you confronted Sebastian and he hasn’t said one thing.”
“One that I need to make,” Blaine corrected. “I need to own who I am, Kurt. This is the first step of many.”
“I’m proud of you Blaine, I just… I wish this didn’t need to happen.”
“What do you mean?”
“I mean,” Kurt paused, releasing Blaine’s hand briefly and gently sliding off. “I want you to know that you don’t need labels.” He offered his hand up to Blaine, who took it. Kurt led them off the mulched playground to the soft, if not faintly dying, grass around it. With a quick whimsical look, he pulled Blaine down into it along with himself. They landed giggling, cheeks flushed in the vague heat and boyish immaturity of being on the verge of something brilliantly new. Lying beside Kurt, waiting for the rain to fall, Blaine felt like he could do anything.
“I mean,” Kurt repeated, slowly inching closer to Blaine until he was almost on top of him. “Labels are,” deliberate pauses between each word, “really. fucking. convenient.” Torso on Blaine’s chest, legs stretched back to the place he had occupied moments ago, Kurt continued. “And people take advantage of how convenient they are way too often.”
Blaine grinned sheepishly, feeling a heat spread throughout his body that had nothing to do with the atmosphere’s own sluggish existence.
“I just really,” Kurt continued, a soft peck on the lips, “really,” another, slower, deeper kiss, “really want you to know that.”
“Could you repeat that?” Blaine asked breathlessly, hopelessly uprooting a few blades of grass beneath him. “I don’t think I got it fully the first time.”
Kurt smiled. “Honey, you’re really fucking fantastic, okay? No one should be able to tell you otherwise.” He fumbled for Blaine’s hand, never breaking eye contact.” Society? Your parents? Your peers? They don’t matter. More than that, you matter. You’re whoever you want to be, not who they say you are.”
“Who do you say I am?” Blaine asked lowly as Kurt shifted all the way on top of him, stroking his cheek sweetly but with eyes soft with longing.
“Why, I say you’re Blaine Anderson,” Kurt answered brightly as the beginnings of raindrops began to fall on them. He kissed Blaine again, Blaine squeezing his eyes shut tightly, hoping to somehow preserve this moment in his mind. All the fear, hope, and lust mingling in a muddy mind with a fresh sense of expectation. “And you don’t need to be anything else but that.”
They broke off talking just then, opting instead to continue their more pressing pursuits, tongues at first hesitant and then urgent as beads of moisture started tapping on them like a heavy staccato, timing them as they rolled around and broke apart for milliseconds to catch a weighted breath before colliding together once again, playing a drumbeat that sounded like dying and living all at once.
“I want to say ‘I love you’, but I know it’s too soon,” Blaine said, breaking away from Kurt, who pouted childishly.
“I’ve been thinking the same thing,” Kurt replied, slightly drawing himself up, face completely serious. There was room to tack on more, but Kurt simply kept silent, beaming at Blaine.
Blaine strained up a little, and Kurt obliged by granting him a kiss. “There you go. We’ve almost said our ‘I love yous’ and we’ve only been at this for a few weeks.”
Kurt smiled coyly, pulling Blaine up. They both stood reluctantly, awkwardly smoothing out their clothes and avoiding eye contact for a few seconds. Once they did make contact, though, they giggled. “Let’s get out of this rain.” Kurt said between laughs. “I believe you’ve got some important self-seeking to do.”
~~
Kurt had agreed, albeit grudgingly, to be there with Blaine. Still worried about his parents, however, he insisted that he hide somewhere while it happened. Blaine had laughed and pressed a kiss to his forehead. “As long as you’re there I’ll be fine,” he’d replied.
Hiding behind a grand old clock, Kurt winked and gave him a thumbs up. Just as he did that, his father walked into the room.
“Oh, Blaine. Hello son.”
“Dad,” Blaine said, fighting to keep his voice steady. “I have something to tell you.”
Instead of saying it outright, Blaine deflected. “Koinophilia,” he said, standing up taller. “Averageness. It’s what people find most attractive.”
His dad nodded nonchalantly, affecting a bored expression as he sat at the dining room table.
Don’t act so alienated and uncaring around me, Blaine shouted at his father internally. You’re the reason behind all of this!
He went on about the different standards he used to classify people as they were born, railing against the inherent unfairness of it all, rallying for those who never have a chance in it all, but his father wouldn’t listen.
“It is right and always has been,” he said sternly. “You’re a comely. You’re always going to be a comely. And you’re going to like it.”
With a determined click of his shoes, his father exited the room. Once Blaine thought he was a safe distance away, he crumpled to the floor, feeling like a paper weight as he crashed.
He didn’t look up, but he felt the cozy warmth of Kurt’s breath by his ear as he whispered, “It’s okay, baby, Shhh, it’s okay. We’ll make it through this.”
“No it won’t, Kurt,” he exclaimed, exasperated, fully aware of how absurdly dramatic he was being. “No it won’t! I can’t do this. I’ve played along with him this entire time. He can’t know.”
He didn’t know why it hurt so much, why the pain was congealing in his veins and making him feel like he was about to burst, but it was welling fast. This was absolutely ridiculous; it was really nothing! He had told his parents before in one of their arguments that his being anything other than a comely would have no immediate effect on any of them, because it wasn’t news they were required to share with the world. It could be kept secret quite easily. In fact, he was sure that if it came out they wouldn’t dare spread it. All threat of it being exposed to the public was eliminated when Sebastian seemed to vow to silence. Why then, was this so important to him? Why did this garner so much merit as to allow himself to beat himself over the head with it, with the incessantly recurring question it brought up: who am I? who am I? who do I mean to be?
That issue of self-identity felt like it would tear him, and his family, apart, if it wasn’t resolved soon.
Who am I?
He heard himself ranting, but he wasn’t quite sure what he was saying.
Who am I?
He heard Kurt’s reassurances, soft lips and gentle words and melodies of beauty in the tragedy he made in his head.
Who can I be?
And then he heard something unprecedented, heavy footfalls that did not match his mother’s. Through his tear blurred vision he saw a tall figure, standing awkwardly on the other side of the room. Looking up confirmed it was his father, an expression of cold sincerity thawing through frostbitten reason.
“…Kurt? Kurt’s in our house?” he asked, stilted in speech.
Blaine merely nodded. “I’d say I’m sorry but I’m not,” he said, automatically straightening. “We’re in a relationship, and a quite solid one if I could say so myself, and you need to acknowledge that.”
“Son…” his father trailed off, looking about the room. “I…”
“Are you going to say you’re angry, because be angry all you want, I don’t care anymore.”
“You don’t care?” he asked, a bit of brokenness seeping into his voice.
“No, I don’t. Do you know what I was trying to tell you before you walked out?”
His father shook his head no.
“I’m not a comely,” he stated firmly. “And that’s not because of any pretended negative influence from Kurt or anything of my choice. I know you know it too. That’s why you didn’t want me with Kurt. So that I couldn’t discover who I truly was.”
Blaine’s father stayed silent, but reached out as if to offer an olive branch. Kurt stood stoutly by Blaine, glaring him down.
“I don’t even care about how people think of me, how I’m aesthetically seen. I don’t care about that! I do care about the stigmas it brings on though, and how it identifies me as a person.”
“Blaine,” his father started.
“No, let me finish for this once,” he established, exasperated. Kurt squeezed his shoulder beside him.
His father weakly nodded consent.
“I don’t know why you tried to make me into something else when you classified me. To help me in life, I suppose, and I understand that motive, but do you understand how I’ve struggled to find peace with who I am? I know it sounds like a horrid melodramatic work of a teenager’s brain, but you changing those classifications that day was an act of you controlling me. Not letting me bring Kurt here or refusing to acknowledge his existence is another act of your trying to control me.” Blaine paused, stealing a look at Kurt, who nodded vigorously. “I am not someone to be controlled. I can live my own life, with my own identity, and I won’t let you rob me of that! That’s one of the many things Kurt has allowed me to learn by being with him, the fact that I can stand up for myself, and frankly be myself, as I choose. The rest of this issue is merely a play with words; it has no immediate effect.” In a softer voice he added, “I just want you to recognize that I’m my own worthy person.”
His father was nodding softly, wiping his eyes reluctantly against the quelling moisture. He extended his arms again, inviting Blaine into his arms in such a foreign paternal manner that Blaine started tearing up as well, running into them like the little boy he was and the adult he proved himself to be.
“Thanks, dad,” he whispered into his shirt. A few beats of warm silence. “Thanks.”
“Well,” his dad cleared his throat after a few moments, his voice still a little hoarse with emotion. “We must not keep your boyfriend in that awkward position for too long. Would you like to stay for dinner, Kurt?”
Kurt smiled benevolently, glancing at Blaine with such dancing joy in his eyes that it was as if he could feel the joy rumbling through Blaine’s body. “I would love to, sir. Thank you very much.”