fic: to live in the shadow (4/?)
Title: To Live in the Shadow
Pairing: Kurt/Blaine
Rating: NC-17 overall; PG-13 for this part
Word Count: 16,876 overall; 4,087 for this part
Warning!: alcohol and substance abuse; symptoms of depression
Summary: Blaine Anderson is an A-list movie star, struggling to get through the chaos of his life. He’s been caught stumbling drunk from countless bars, barely escaped a charge of drug possession, and is now on his way to losing everything. But a huge contract for a highly anticipated movie could turn his life around and help him get back on track. However, when he hires a new personal stylist by the name of Kurt Hummel, he finds it even more difficult to concentrate on recovery. Kurt gets under his skin, irritating him immensely. But as he tries everything to get rid of Kurt, he finds himself growing closer to this man than he ever thought he would.
Blaine curls onto his side, wrapping an around his stomach and staring at the wall opposite him.
It's really kind of funny how he thought for just a moment that this role would help him; that maybe he could recover.
Now it's obvious that was only ever wishful thinking.
A/N: I have realized I really enjoy writing Santana. I hope you guys like this chapter, and I just want to thank all of you for your support. (:
"I got the part!"
Quinn looks up as the door to her office smashes against the wall, Blaine barging through. Kurt turns in his seat, rolling his eyes as he does so.
"Well?" Blaine asks. "Is no one excited? Uhh - major motion picture here. You know the romantic novel - Treading Water? Yeah, starring as the main character in the movie adaption."
Quinn smiles shaking her head and she stands up, crossing the room to hug him. "It just has less and less effect every time you barge in here," she says. "It's not that exciting anymore."
Blaine laughs along with her, his hand still resting on the small of her back. It's nice, not being irritated with each other, and Blaine starts to think that maybe changing won't be such a bad thing after all.
"So how did it go?" Quinn asks as she pulls away at last. "Well - good, obviously, but details?"
"Well, apparently it was callbacks today," Blaine starts off. "And they pulled me ahead of everyone else. Can't say that I feel bad though," he adds, pursing his lips, his eyes squinting up. "I'm sure I would've been picked anyway - saves them all time."
Quinn shakes her hard, trying to contain a smile, but she can't. Blaine's ego is too much for her sometimes, and she finds it rather hilarious. He's definitely not a bad person, but he does have a great deal of over confidence.
"And?" she asks, urging him on.
"I don't know," he says, shrugging. "Oh - Ricky was there," he says, and Quinn nods, showing that she recognizes him. "So he took me in and I met the casting director. They gave me a script, I read, and then they shoved me out in the hall to talk. And then they brought me in with the girl that they cast for Emily - "
"And who is that?" Quinn asks.
"L - Lopez," Blaine says. "Something Lopez."
"Jennifer?" Quinn asks. "George?"
"No, " Blaine says, laughing. "Definitely not either of them. Her name started with an 's' though, I think."
"Santana," Quinn says right away, nodding. "Oh, yes - I can see that."
"Yeah," Blaine says. "So they took us in and had us do the departing scene together, and then they casted me."
"Well," Quinn says. "Looks like they put a lot of faith in you. That's pretty incredible."
"Please," Blaine says, rolling his eyes. "I doubt they could've found someone better."
Quinn gives his arm a playful smirk. "Don't get too cocky - you know that. Because once you get to cocky - "
"I don't try as hard, I know," Blaine says, his voice monotone. "And then I'm not as great as I could be - yada, yada, blah, blah, blah. I'm going to work at this Quinn. Honestly - who do you think you're dealing with here?"
"Well," Quinn says, her voice going higher. "You have changed a great deal since your last movie."
"Just because I've developed a taste for alcohol . . all the time - it doesn't mean I've lost my ability to act," Blaine says with a scoff. "Come on. I'm a professional, Quinn."
Quinn laughs, almost mocking him, but still earnest. "Blaine, when have you ever been professional?" she asks. "Especially this last year?"
"I'm so offended right now," Blaine mutters, looking away from her.
"He just knows how to act professional," Jeff says, and Quinn laughs again.
"That's for sure."
"Yeah, and I've got that disguise covered for him," Kurt says, stretching out his fingers.
Blaine turns to him, raising an eyebrow. "What's that supposed to mean?" he asks, and just like that, his good mood is shot.
"I'm just saying I made you look professional today," Kurt says calmly, standing up from his seat.
"And I wouldn't have otherwise?" Blaine challenges.
"Probably not," Kurt says with a shrug. "I mean just look at the day we meet - baggy T-shirt, worn out jeans, scruffy beard . . tsk, tsk, tsk. I mean we all know you aren't exactly the most sophisticated of people."
"Huh," Blaine says, pushing his tongue against his cheek. "You know what, Hummel? Can you just give it a rest? I'm sick of you ragging on me all the time."
"Oh, like I'm the only one at fault here," Kurt snaps back. "Because I - "
"Hey, hey," Quinn says loudly, stepping between them, and they both back up, not realizing they had moved toward each other. "Take it easy, guys."
"Can't even get respect in my own workplace - my home," Blaine mutters.
"You have to give respect to get it," Kurt says without missing a beat, though there's something inside him that feels regretful.
Blaine pauses, almost looking like he understands, like he's going to admit that Kurt's right. But instead he gives another scoff and leaves, beckoning Jeff to follow him.
Quinn sighs and rubs Kurt's arm gently.
"He'll come around," she says.
Kurt hopes so.
.
.
But his hope is in vain, because for the next week, things only grow steadily worse. He and Blaine can hardly look at each other without sneering. They switch off who's mad at whom and who's just reacting, but eventually it just becomes this big loathe-fest.
Kurt tries most of the time - he tries to keep his cool and give Blaine the benefit of the doubt. Obviously, Blaine has a lot more to deal with, a lot more stress hanging over his shoulders, and Kurt tries to respect that and remember that maybe that's the reason Blaine is so irritable.
But it doesn't help or stop the fact that Kurt absolutely cannot stand Blaine and his stupid attitude.
And really, what's the big deal if he slips up every once in a while? It's not like Blaine's making any effort to get along. He hisses at Kurt every chance he gets, shooting him nasty glares and giving him the cold shoulder.
Kurt tries to stay strong, but he can't help but let it get to him.
He collapses into his seat, pulling at the tie around his neck, loosening it and yanking it off harshly. He shrugs out of his jacket and chucks it on his desk, letting out a frustrated sigh.
His first week is over and he's already completely stressed out. He can't stand to be in the same room with Blaine for more than five minutes at a time - which may be a problem considering he's dressing Blaine every other day.
Absently, he picks up a few of his designs from his desk, looking through them before he takes the paper and crumples it into a small, little ball. He was going to throw them out anyway. Blaine's voice fills his ears, mocking and harsh, as he throws the paper ball angrily across the room at the garbage can, grinding his teeth together.
He knew working Blaine was going to be difficult, but he didn't know it was going to be so frustrating, so confidence-shattering, so unbearable and disheartening. He just doesn't know what he's doing so wrong - why Blaine gets so irritated and fired up every time Kurt's in his presence. He doesn't know why he can't joke around with Blaine, why Blaine takes everything he says and turns it into something worth arguing about.
What is so wrong with just getting along?
Kurt knows that he doesn't deserve the way Blaine treats him, but he's not giving up. Not now. It's only been a week after all, and both Quinn and Jeff have his back. It's obvious so many others have backed out, have given up, have been pushed to the point of quitting.
But Kurt's not going to let that happen to him.
He's going to be the one that makes a difference.
.
.
Blaine collapses onto his bed with a sigh, closing his eyes as he lands in the soft blankets. His head is already pounding, and he knows that tomorrow's not going to be any fun.
But it's not like he could help it; he's worked up over the movie starting tomorrow and getting along with his costars and his parents back in control of him and Kurt - goddamn bastard. Blaine literally cannot put up with him for longer than thirty seconds. He just can't. It's like every other minute he's got that snarky tone in his voice and is throwing subtle insults at Blaine left and right. Blaine just loathes him with a burning passion.
And of course, of-fucking-course, when Blaine went back to grab his things from his dressing room today, Kurt had been in his own office. Blaine's not exactly sure how, but they'd fought for another good five minutes before Quinn rushed down the hall and stepped in between them, demanding Blaine leave with Jeff as soon as possible.
Blaine had ripped himself away from Quinn's grip and stalked off, Jeff running after him with a frustrated sigh on his lips.
Jeff had dropped off Blaine at home, but Blaine had snuck out soon after to some shady bar and downed a few rounds of cocktails before deciding that he should probably get home. He'd rounded up one of his drivers and sneaked back home, slipping inside his room.
Luckily, his parents are out at some huge social event right now - so there's no chance in them scolding him. (Which he really shouldn't have to listen to considering he's a legal adult and allowed to drink as much as he wants under state law, granted he doesn't do anything stupid).
He knows; he knows he has a problem, but really, what's the use in trying to fix it?
With the movie, and all the interviews, and the fake relationship that'll come with being Santana's costar, and having to work with Kurt Hummel every day - there's no way he'll be able to get through it all sober. He'll need alcohol to cope.
Blaine curls onto his side, wrapping an around his stomach and staring at the wall opposite him.
It's really kind of funny how he thought for just a moment that this role would help him; that maybe he could recover.
Now it's obvious that was only ever wishful thinking.
.
.
Blaine has no idea he'd fallen asleep until he's suddenly peeling open his eyes, his cheek pressed into a pile of drool on his pillow. He's still got his leather jacket on, his jeans ruffled and wrinkled up his legs. He moves a few curls from his face and squints toward the alarm clock on his bedside table.
It's early morning - just past seven o'clock. He gives a groan as he rolls onto his back, reaching up a hand to wipe up the hardened spit off of his face. He's not feeling as bad as he expected he would, but still not one hundred percent - but then again, since he started drinking, when has he ever felt one hundred percent? There's always something keeping him down.
Blaine closes his eyes again, wishing to relax, but a ball of nervous excitement is rising in his stomach, spreading out of his whole body. Today's he's going in to meet for the first time with the cast, he's going to do a read-through of the script, tour around the in-construction set. It's going to feel like coming home, but at the same time, he feels like this home is a stranger.
He should be excited, yes, but for some reason, there's this odd feeling tugging from somewhere inside him. He feels like the more time stretches on, the more he feels disconnected from his career, from the rest of Hollywood, from everyone.
And he doesn't like it.
(In fact, it kind of worries him).
However, he's got bigger problems than this odd little psychological and internal debate. He can't stop drinking, Kurt's driving him up the wall, and in about forty-five minutes, his parents are going to be breathing down his neck.
He pushes himself carefully into a sitting position, testing for dizziness. Once he's certain he's steady, he stands up and stretches, and then heads quietly down the hall. Half an hour, he's showered and ready, prepared for his parents' nagging.
He's sitting in the kitchen, forcing down food and praying that he won't vomit when they enter, still looking so professional even in their bathrobes. He doesn't say anything, but keeps his head down as he waits for them to speak first. He waits while his father makes coffee and his mother makes them breakfast, and it isn't until they're finished eating that his father finally feels the need to acknowledge the fact that Blaine is there.
It shouldn't even be a surprise. There's no need for Alan to just simply chat with his son - of course not. Only need for him to scold him and control him.
"Blaine," he says quietly, and Blaine looks up, biting his cheek as a reminder not to lash out. "I want you to be honest with me," Alan starts. "I want to know where you were last night."
"How do you know I was anywhere?" Blaine asks.
"Blaine, when we came home you were crashed on your bed still dressed," Alan says with a sigh. "It's no secret that you'd been drinking."
"Fine, so I went out," Blaine says, shrugging and looking down at his cereal bowl.
"Which you shouldn't be doing," Alan says sternly.
"Yeah, but I don't really care," Blaine says. "And let's face it, neither do you."
"What do you mean?" Alan asks, taken aback. "Of course we care - "
"Not really," Blaine interrupts. "You only care that it might damage my reputation and career, not that it might damage me."
"Blaine, will you stop?" Clara cuts in.
"Stop what?" Blaine asks, looking to her. "Stop telling the truth? Stop calling you out?"
"Blaine, you have everything wrong," Clara says, and Blaine thinks he imagines it - but her voice trembles ever so slightly.
"I don't though," Blaine says shaking his head. "I know exactly how you feel about me. I know exactly what your intentions are. You asked me to be honest with you, so I am. And I just wish you'd be honest with me." He turns on his heel, stalking from the room.
"Now, Blaine, hold on!" his father yells, stepping after him.
Blaine stops against his better judgment, turning back. "What?" he asks.
"Where are you going?" Alan asks. "I'm not done talking to you."
"Well, I am," Blaine says. "I can't listen to this anymore." He moves forward, then pauses. "And don't worry," he adds. "I'll be back in time to get to the set."
Clara shakes her head, pressing her lips together, but says nothing as Blaine stalks off again.
.
.
Blaine doesn't go far - just sits out by the water fountain at the front of the estate, watching birds fly around in the trees and bugs crawl along the driveway.
It's just really funny how he goes back and forth - from Kurt who just rags on him all the time, to his parents who are constantly telling him what a disappointment he is, and even though they care about him - Quinn and Jeff who stare at him with pity in their eyes.
He just wishes he had someone who understood him, someone who didn't judge him, someone who wasn't worried about changing him and fixing his wrongdoings all the time, someone who just accepted him for who is.
But he doubts he's ever going to find someone like that.
All his life he's only ever been used. People only try to get to know him, try to get close to him for fame, for a chance in the spotlight and their names in the tabloids. Blaine's actually pretty lucky to have found a friend like Jeff. It's not like he gets the opportunity to make friends all the time - real ones, that is. And he really is quite grateful for Jeff - someone who likes him outside of his fame, who helps him stay out of the spotlight and out of trouble. Blaine supposes it helps that they've been friends since before Blaine's skyrocket to fame, but still.
They met back when they were ten years old, right when Blaine had first moved to Los Angeles. They'd both shared an apartment building, their homes on the same floor - only three doors apart. It was good for Blaine to have someone to play with and to feel like a normal kid, and Blaine's parents had taken to having Jeff over as much as they could, so Blaine wouldn't get too lonely when they left him for hours at a time every day.
Blaine supposes that's really the only nice thing his parents had ever done for him - and it's not entirely that full of good intentions. Blaine's parents had Jeff over when they'd go off and schedule auditions for Blaine and talk to the press and simply make money off of him. They'd leave the two of them with nannies and be gone for an entire evening and even long into the night.
They knew they wouldn't be around much, knew they wouldn't be there for Blaine all the time, and that's where Jeff came in.
It is good for Blaine, however, and for once, he's glad for the fact his parents are such shitty parents. Without all their craze and lust for business in his first year in Hollywood, he would've never met Jeff, and who knows where he'd be now?
Still, fame does have his limits, and if we're going to be honest, Blaine's never been in a real relationship.
He's tried dating fans, but they're only there to use him for his fame and money, or they're greatly disappointed by the person he is in real life. The press really glamorizes who he is - makes him seem like he's such a great and wonderful person, when in reality, he's a douche. And the worst part is, he knows he's an asshole, but makes no effort to change, makes no effort to stop treating people the way he does, and he doesn't blame girls for dumping him.
And when he's not dating a fan, he's forced to date his costars. They have to appeal to the press and gain interest from the media. Sometimes he initially is interested, but after awhile he grows tired of them while they only seem to be falling more and more in love with him. And it's no surprise that after the buzz from every movie dies down, he goes through a nasty breakup with whoever he's dating at the time.
Sometimes he just really wants to know.
He wants to know if he'll ever find someone, or if he'll be living his fucked up life alone forever.
.
.
Blaine steps out of the limousine, inhaling a deep breath of air. The smell of fresh paint and warm wood fill his nostrils - the smell of a set being built. A small grin tugs at his lips and he moves forward, wishing to get away from his parents as soon as possible, throwing himself at this sudden happy feeling.
He walks to the front of the building, maneuvering through all the supplies littered around the small parking lot. The secretary greets him flatly as he enters, only to do a double-take, a real smile spreading across her face. She's young, but not as young as him - probably in her early thirties, and it's obvious she must be a fan.
"Oh, hello, Mr. Anderson," she says. "The rest of the cast is out behind the building - on the patio."
"Thanks," he says, and catches himself - he's being polite; it's almost odd.
He rushes through the halls, looking for a way to get to the back, a small surge of adrenaline rushing through his veins. At last he finds the right door and takes a deep breath before pushing it open, walking back out into the midday sun.
Set construction is in full swing - he can tell, with people working machines and supplies stacked up, waiting to be carried inside to the appropriate soundstages. There are people around, but it's mostly crew members - a few actors are gathered around a table, along with Ricky, but it looks like they're still missing a lot of cast members.
Blaine turns from the gathered crowd and begins walking across the lot, admiring the scattered pieces of set. Images fill his brain of himself dressed in 1930s fashion, Santana clinging to his arm with gloved hands. He sees a dark night, the two of them leaning their heads on each other as they walk through the city.
He sees Robert and Emily, the adored characters from Treading Water brought to life on the big screen, and he smiles. So many people have been waiting for this movie, are anticipating it, are incredibly excited, and he can't wait to give it to them.
He sighs, running a hand through his hair.
He's here. He's finally on set again, getting ready to read through a script and get into character. This is where he belongs and where he needs to focus on being.
He looks around, watching as the crew members build and work on the set, putting it together and making it come to life. It really looks incredible, spreading out around him and it sets him in the mood, helping him shift into character.
He turns to his right, and then stops, freezing in his tracks as he catches a glimpse of his new costar walking towards him in a skimpy dress and high heels. He licks his lips and runs a hand through his messy curls again, putting on a devilish grin - it's time to get serious.
She steps right up to him, bringing her sunglasses down over her eyes. "Santana Lopez," she says, offering her hand. "But you already know that."
"Blaine Anderson," he replies, shaking her hand. "But everyone knows that."
"Oh, you cocky bitch," Santana replies, her lips lifting up into a smile.
Blaine raises his eyebrows, smirking.
Santana steps just a little bit closer, their bodies almost touching. She reaches up, cupping his cheek in her palm. His breath hitches a moment, and he does all he can to keep the short distance left in between them.
"Your dashing good looks and cheesy personality have no affect on me," she says softly. "Don't think you'll ever have me wrapped around your finger, because you won't. And if you do try to seduce me," she continues, "I won't be afraid to rip your balls off with my bare hands."
She leans in just a moment as if she's about to kiss him and then pulls away, smacking his cheek lightly. She turns on her heel and struts away, turning just to pull down her sunglasses and wink before she disappears.
Blaine stands there, rubbing his hand across his cheek in utter shock.
Today is certainly going to be interesting.
.
.
Overall, the read-through goes pretty well, and with just an hour left of the work day, he and Santana begin to actually act out the scene - blocking it and taking the time to make it seem real - with small touches and longer pauses between lines.
Santana's easy to work with, incredibly good, and looking past her hard outer exterior and sassy attitude, she's a rather nice person. She can make Blaine laugh easily and the next moment, her acting is sending him into heartbreaking tears, setting the scene.
And besides her, he's already growing to like other members of the cast - like Louis, who plays Santana's father. He's nothing like his character who's strict and judgmental, but he's an absolute blast to have around. He was the first to break the ice within the cast, and helps make the atmosphere completely relaxed.
Blaine's actually just happy no one seems to be judging him yet. He can tell that at first people were a bit wary of him, but they all know how it goes. They know how it feels to have rumors spread about you and how you just learn to accept it and it and ignore it rather than fight all the time, so by the end of the day, everyone's looking past Blaine's recent trouble with the media, and is ready to accept him as their new cast mate.
At the end of the day, Blaine is starting to ease into this new family, new home, and yet, just as before, there's that annoying nagging feeling, pulling him away.
.
part 1 | part 2 | part 3 | part 5 | part 6