Fic: Once in Seventy Years - prologue
Rating: Mature
Word count: 836
Pairing: Past Kurt/Blaine, eventual Puck/Kurt
Warnings: Past character death that will eventually be mentioned.
Disclaimer: Glee is not mine.
AO3 link, if you prefer
Postcard showing the Tower of London, New York, March 2nd, 1911
Puckerman-
I found what you're looking for.
You owe me one.
Charlie
Postcard showing a smirking actress in a large feathered hat, New York, March 2nd, 1911
Charlie -
No, I don't.
Lunch tomorrow, usual place? I will be there at two.
Puck
Liverpool, June 5th, 1911
My Dear Brother,
I hope this letter will reach you in time, or at all. I don't know much about your Bohemian life in Paris, and truth be told I suspect that is for the best.
I write to inform you that your father's health has taken a turn for the worse. The doctors say his heart is weak. Please do not blame yourself for leaving - I know you will, but I promise, mother has been taking excellent care of him.
You know how proud your father is, of you, but also in the general sense. He would never put anything before your happiness, and so it falls to me to write and beg you to please come home.
I wouldn't ask it of you if I didn't believe it necessary. I'm so terribly sorry.
Your loving brother,
Finn Hudson
London, June 20th, 1911
Dear Ma,
Sorry for not writing earlier. I trust you and Sarah are well, as am I. I have some rather important news to share with you and Father.
I am engaged to be married.
You know that Father has been eager for me to find a nice Jewish girl to marry, and I have. As he has been quite insistent on the idea of
marriage, and less specific about the requirements for my future wife, I though it prudent to go ahead and choose a girl before he decided to choose one for me. Knowing Father, I am sure you understand.
The lucky girl is in fact an American, the daughter of a Hiram Berry, of New York City. She's a talented singer and actress, come to London with her mother and very young sister, to pursue a career on the stages of the West End. I haven't have the pleasure of meeting my future father in law, but rest assured that I have his permission. I believe Father would have approved of my attention to manners, though I did get the impression that Mr. Berry may put less stock in that kind of thing. Either way, I've got his approval, and the lovely Miss Rachel Berry has promised me her hand in marriage.
We will return to New York. I have had quite enough of Europe, it is old fashioned and prejudiced. I believe I share the feeling with many of our people - there is so much talk here, among the young and radical, of Palestine. I'm less inclined towards politics than most, and Father will be pleased to hear that my friends here in London have yet to make a socialist of me, though it's not for want of trying. As it is, though, I rather prefer the idea of coming home, and thankfully Miss Berry agrees.
We are due to depart in three weeks, making the crossing on the Mauretania.
Your Loving Son,
Noah
On a piece of paper already used on both sides for sketches, left on a stained kitchen table in an apartment in Montparnasse, June 1911
Blaine,
I would have said goodbye to you in person, but you weren't here. Wes says he has no idea where you have gone and knowing you, you don't know yourself and may not return for days. I won't endeavour to find whatever seedy establishment where you're probably singing and charming rich ladies for money to buy paint, not that I judge you, that would be hypocrisy, and we've both always loathed that vice. Even if you had too much cheap wine again and are sleeping it off in some filthy apartment - you really won't like whoever it was half as much when sober, in case you are reading this and thinking about going back.
Blaine, I don't have much time, I am leaving for England in an hour. My father is ill again. It's all horrible and it shouldn't have been like this, but perhaps it's for the best. I'm leaving my brother's address, and will write you as soon as I know more, but I must go immediately.
I will be always thankful to you for finding me when I arrived here not knowing what I was looking for, for translating Greek poetry and taking me to the Louvre, for letting me drag you too many times to Durand-Ruel's to see the View of Toledo. I wish I didn't have to go, I wish I could have been your Agathon, I wish I could stay to see the pictures that I've seen in you take shape on canvas.
They say friendship is the purest, the most true and lasting love. I'm not strong enough, yet, for us to have that, but I think I shall be. Until then - courage.
Kurt
Chapter 1
Word count: 836
Pairing: Past Kurt/Blaine, eventual Puck/Kurt
Warnings: Past character death that will eventually be mentioned.
Disclaimer: Glee is not mine.
AO3 link, if you prefer
Postcard showing the Tower of London, New York, March 2nd, 1911
Puckerman-
I found what you're looking for.
You owe me one.
Charlie
Postcard showing a smirking actress in a large feathered hat, New York, March 2nd, 1911
Charlie -
No, I don't.
Lunch tomorrow, usual place? I will be there at two.
Puck
Liverpool, June 5th, 1911
My Dear Brother,
I hope this letter will reach you in time, or at all. I don't know much about your Bohemian life in Paris, and truth be told I suspect that is for the best.
I write to inform you that your father's health has taken a turn for the worse. The doctors say his heart is weak. Please do not blame yourself for leaving - I know you will, but I promise, mother has been taking excellent care of him.
You know how proud your father is, of you, but also in the general sense. He would never put anything before your happiness, and so it falls to me to write and beg you to please come home.
I wouldn't ask it of you if I didn't believe it necessary. I'm so terribly sorry.
Your loving brother,
Finn Hudson
London, June 20th, 1911
Dear Ma,
Sorry for not writing earlier. I trust you and Sarah are well, as am I. I have some rather important news to share with you and Father.
I am engaged to be married.
You know that Father has been eager for me to find a nice Jewish girl to marry, and I have. As he has been quite insistent on the idea of
marriage, and less specific about the requirements for my future wife, I though it prudent to go ahead and choose a girl before he decided to choose one for me. Knowing Father, I am sure you understand.
The lucky girl is in fact an American, the daughter of a Hiram Berry, of New York City. She's a talented singer and actress, come to London with her mother and very young sister, to pursue a career on the stages of the West End. I haven't have the pleasure of meeting my future father in law, but rest assured that I have his permission. I believe Father would have approved of my attention to manners, though I did get the impression that Mr. Berry may put less stock in that kind of thing. Either way, I've got his approval, and the lovely Miss Rachel Berry has promised me her hand in marriage.
We will return to New York. I have had quite enough of Europe, it is old fashioned and prejudiced. I believe I share the feeling with many of our people - there is so much talk here, among the young and radical, of Palestine. I'm less inclined towards politics than most, and Father will be pleased to hear that my friends here in London have yet to make a socialist of me, though it's not for want of trying. As it is, though, I rather prefer the idea of coming home, and thankfully Miss Berry agrees.
We are due to depart in three weeks, making the crossing on the Mauretania.
Your Loving Son,
Noah
On a piece of paper already used on both sides for sketches, left on a stained kitchen table in an apartment in Montparnasse, June 1911
Blaine,
I would have said goodbye to you in person, but you weren't here. Wes says he has no idea where you have gone and knowing you, you don't know yourself and may not return for days. I won't endeavour to find whatever seedy establishment where you're probably singing and charming rich ladies for money to buy paint, not that I judge you, that would be hypocrisy, and we've both always loathed that vice. Even if you had too much cheap wine again and are sleeping it off in some filthy apartment - you really won't like whoever it was half as much when sober, in case you are reading this and thinking about going back.
Blaine, I don't have much time, I am leaving for England in an hour. My father is ill again. It's all horrible and it shouldn't have been like this, but perhaps it's for the best. I'm leaving my brother's address, and will write you as soon as I know more, but I must go immediately.
I will be always thankful to you for finding me when I arrived here not knowing what I was looking for, for translating Greek poetry and taking me to the Louvre, for letting me drag you too many times to Durand-Ruel's to see the View of Toledo. I wish I didn't have to go, I wish I could have been your Agathon, I wish I could stay to see the pictures that I've seen in you take shape on canvas.
They say friendship is the purest, the most true and lasting love. I'm not strong enough, yet, for us to have that, but I think I shall be. Until then - courage.
Kurt
Chapter 1