Kurt
"I quite possibly might explode. And I mean that literally."
I merely glanced up before crossing the street, juggling a halfway empty coffee cup and portfolio as I held the phone to my ear among the few other pedestrians surrounding me.
"Oh Kurt, you're freaking out again," Rachel replied, clearly amused on the other end. "You and the show are going to be great."
"I mean, yeah, normally I would just let it go and move on and get on with it," I rambled, "but this isn't any show, Rachel. I feel like it's my child, and right now my child is about to start kindergarten and I'm one of the parents that can't control themselves. Once my show gets on the bus, there's no going back."
I could hear her shushing a laugh in the background. "Tell Santana to stop laughing at me. I mean it," I said as I turned on to the familiar block.
"What are you really worried about?" asked Rachel.
"It's opening tomorrow. I used to think that everything was perfectly placed in every way. But what if the audience files in and someone realizes the staging is all wrong? Or the pacing in the script really was a bore? What if there isn't an audience at all?!"
"Kurt, I've told you a hundred times, it's all going to work out," she tried assuring me. "You've worked so hard on it, and you're going to be a star."
"Tell my understudy they'll be going on for me if I die within the next twenty-four hours," I groaned, approaching the apartment's main door. "I'm coming upstairs now."
"We're not there to see an understudy," Rachel replied, "we're there to see you, our best friend. You can bet that there will be three faces in the audience cheering you on through it all."
As I began climbing the steps, I was glad to remember that I wouldn't need to pull out a set of keys when the loft was almost always unlocked. "Or I'll just be sick. Wait, three of you? I thought it would be a miracle if Santana shows up, so I don't know how you come up with three..."
"I think you'll change your mind soon..." she said mysteriously.
I came to a stop at our door, sliding it open to reveal the girls, my eyes first going to Rachel holding her cellphone by her grinning face. But I nearly dropped everything the moment I saw the second face sitting at the kitchen table.
"There he is! My superstar boy!"
"Mercedes?!" I rushed in. "You-you...! What are you doing here?! You're in New York! You look amazing!"
Mercedes laughed as she stood up from the table. I immediately set down my things to accept her large hug.
"Rachel told me that you had a big show coming up," she said. "And that you were going through some tough things right now. So here I am! Best friend to the rescue."
"I can't believe it," I smiled. "You didn't have to come all this way."
"Well, I've been doing some recording here and there, and the studio manager loved the whole idea of an 'urban sound' when I told him about a possible trip to New York. I'm supposed to be finding musical inspiration, but I'd much rather catch up with my best friend," she grinned, mushing her cheek against mine in a tight embrace.
"Well I suppose we have a lot to talk about, since I haven't seen you since the reunion!" I replied.
"Rachel did catch me up on a few things, however..." Mercedes said. "And let me just say, Kurt Hummel is not one to sit around on his white ass and give up. You gotta get back into the game, okay?"
"I wish I could," I groaned, "but some days everything just feels impossible."
"Well, not this weekend. From here on out, everything and anything is possible, starting with your opening night!" she told me.
I took a deep breath. "You're right. The sooner I can release my stress, I can focus on the good. Thank you for being here when I needed you most, even if I didn't realize it."
"It's so great to have you here, Mercedes," Rachel chimed in, standing up and allowing us all to move into the living room. "I know Santana is going to love it as soon as she gets home from work. It's going to be like high school, all of us together again!"
Skillfully choosing to overlook Rachel's chipper comments, Mercedes took a seat on the couch next to me and began. "So, I heard you and Blaine were on the outs. Somehow you neglected to say much in your e-mails..."
"I'm sorry," I sighed. "I just want it all to be over. I want him out of my head, but we... started talking again."
Her eyes widened. "And?"
"He asked me to prom..." I leaned back, squeezing my eyes shut while waiting for the reaction.
"Oh my god!" Rachel exclaimed. "Why didn't you say so?!"
"What happened? What did you say?" Mercedes questioned.
"I mean, I turned him down..." I told them. "I had to."
Rachel and Mercedes passed a glance, doing nothing to put me at ease.
"I told him I couldn't go back there. And I can't," I said. "Lima is in the past now. I'm never going to move past this if everything he asks is just a match lit underneath us. I'm done for good now."
"You're serious about this?" Mercedes asked.
"It's not like I could go anyway. Prom is tomorrow night. I have the opening night to give my sanity to," I replied.
"Kurt, I can tell you and Blaine are struggling," said Mercedes, "and I know there's no getting out of your show. But from what I've heard lately, both of you are a mess without the other."
"All he wants to do is see you again," Rachel tried comforting me with a sympathetic shrug. "He wants someone like you to take his mind off the damage."
"And I think you might want to see him too..." added Mercedes.
I thought for a moment before answering. "I can't. I'm not going back to Lima, at least for a very long time. My life is here."
* * *
I felt like I was being choked.
It became harder and harder to breath, and it was dark. I struggled to break free from whatever was strangling me, feeling weaker as I realized I was falling.
"GAHHHHH!"
Suddenly there was a force that shook me back to my senses.
"Kurt!" I heard. "Hey!"
I blinked, peeling my eyes open to see no one other than Mercedes sitting at the end of my bed.
"W-what?" I groaned.
"What do you mean what? You were practically doing flips in your sleep," she said. "And when you nearly screamed, I knew something was up."
"What time is it?" I asked, rubbing my eyes and propping myself up on my elbow.
"I think it's almost three," Mercedes replied, "and because of the whole curtain divider thing you guys have going on, I can hear everything from the couch. Now what's going on?"
I pressed a hand to my chest, steadying my breath. "I have to go on stage in less than twelve hours..."
"Is that really what you're stressing about? Kurt, for the millionth time: you're gonna rock it!" said Mercedes with a nudge towards my leg hidden underneath the blankets.
"No, it must have been a nightmare," I replied. "I don't know. I was standing there, blinded by the lights, and I didn't remember a thing. And right there in the front row-"
I stopped myself, snapping my mouth shut. I dared to look over to Mercedes, who was giving me the look that she already knew what I was going to say.
"It was Blaine," she finished with an understanding nod. "I pick up on more than you think."
"I'm just hoping he goes to the stupid prom..." I groaned. "If he showed up in New York again, I really would explode."
Mercedes let out a snort.
"What was that for?" I asked harshly.
"Please," she laughed. "If dapper Blaine came here, you'd turn to jelly. You'd get butterflies in your stomach and your eyes would have hearts in them."
"Remind me again why you know me so well...?" I huffed, falling back on my pillows.
"Because I'm your best friend!" Mercedes grinned. "And even when we are on opposite coasts of the country, I can still read you like a book without missing a beat."
She leaned over in giggles, her brown eyes threatening that she would come closer to cuddle. I turned my back to her stubbornly as I tried hiding a smile that was playing at my lips when I felt pokes at my shoulders.
Suddenly we both fell quiet.
"You really like him, don't you?" she asked.
"No," I sighed. "Yes— I don't know."
"What's not to know?" Mercedes replied, pulling herself up to sit on her heels.
I closed my eyes. "I wish it was easier. I mean, I loved being with him. Huh— I loved him. But everything tumbled down so soon. He couldn't have loved me if he was giving himself to another guy."
"He cheated on you?" she asked.
"Ye- well, no... he didn't... I guess it's just felt like he did," I answered. "Wouldn't it hurt you if you found out that the man you loved didn't think you gave him enough, so he had to find it in someone else?"
"Maybe he just made a mistake," she shrugged sympathetically.
"I was only looking out for him anyway," I said, shifting my pillows. "I seemed to be the only one who cared for him and his struggles."
"Blaine seems like such a nice guy. He could just need a second chance. After all, he did ask you to prom. That's special; he obviously wants to reconnect with you," she said.
"Even... even if I did want to connect with him again, there's just no way it could work," I spoke softly.
"You guys are up!" a sudden voice interrupted.
We both looked over to see Rachel tying her hair up in a ponytail by the curtain.
"Um, yeah. Sorry if we woke you," Mercedes replied scooting over as Rachel wiggled herself into a spot on the bed.
"Ugh, I needed to get up. You're lucky we're friends, Mercedes, because I don't know who else Santana is willing to give her spot on the couch up for," Rachel said. "The only problem is that she's now taking up more than her half of my bed."
Mercedes and I passed each other a glance, but Rachel spoke up again.
"Aww, you guys, we're all here together again, just like old times!" she smiled. "Remember those sleepovers we used to have, watching movies, braiding hair, talking about boys..."
"Oh god," I rolled my eyes jokingly. "I remember you two dragging me into your girls nights."
"Kurt, you loved those nights!" Mercedes pointed out. "And you were always the one to eat all the pizza."
"It was a stressful time!" I reminded them. "Junior year in high school sucked. If it wasn't the pizza, it was the stress giving me all that acne."
The girls laughed, both of them falling down on the bed beside me with a sigh.
After a moment of quiet, I glanced over at them. "You know, it does kind of feel like one of those nights."
"It kind of does. Except we aren't arguing about which movie musical to watch for the hundredth time, and back then I didn't have a crush on anyone but the guy who worked at the food court in the mall." I blew out a long sigh. "I wish crushes were that simple now."
Mercedes and Rachel both replied with their "mm-hmm"s and "tell me about it"s.
Suddenly Rachel sat up. "Well, we're all up. It could still be like that."
"What do you mean?" asked Mercedes.
The short brunette gave a mischievous smile. "We can treat ourselves tonight. I can even whip together an at-home facial. Mercedes, I can paint your nails, if you want. And Kurt can have a relaxing morning before his big break."
"I like the sound of that!" agreed Mercedes. "What do you say, Kurt?"
"I don't know..." I moaned, turning my face into the pillow.
"Come on Kurt..." both the girls started pleading, and once again poking and tickling at my sides.
I refused to give in, only to be broken down moments later as the two waited faithfully for my response.
"I'll do the braids..." I mumbled finally.
Mercedes and Rachel celebrated with a laugh, quickly jumping up to prepare for our spontaneous 3AM throwback sleepover.
* * *
You know that cliche, totally-forbidden thing that people do on TV where they poke their heads through the curtain and look out at the crowd before the show begins?
Well, right now I was pondering the idea of chaining myself to the wall to resist doing that.
I was beginning to feel sick. And it didn't feel like pre-show jitters. I knew something was wrong and there was only one name echoing in my head.
"Kurt!"
That wasn't quite it, I thought, turning around to see who had interrupted my pacing backstage.
Mercedes took a quick glance around the bustling setting of actors and crew preparing for the show, due to begin in a matter of minutes. She hurriedly dashed over to join me, a bright smile on her face.
"What are you doing? You're not supposed to be back here!" I hissed, grateful that no one seemed to notice. "The show is going to start any moment."
"I know," she replied, "but there's still time. I just wanted to sneak back here and make sure you're okay."
"Why wouldn't I be okay?" I questioned.
"Because I was just watching you talk to yourself for the last five minutes." She put her hands on her hips. "I want you to be comfortable before you go on. We all know you're ready."
"You're all here?" I asked. "What's the crowd look like out there?"
"We're all here," Mercedes assured me. "Me, Rachel, and even Santana. And it looks like a full house! But you know you can always look to us if you need a boost."
I felt my heart sink to the floor. I knew the truth, but the truth was like a reality check I wasn't ready to face.
"What's wrong?" Mercedes asked softly, noticing my quiet and placing a hand on my shoulder when I had turned away.
"Look Mercedes, I really, really appreciate you all coming, but it just feels a little empty—"
"Without Blaine," she finished knowingly.
I wanted to melt into a puddle on the floor. Luckily, her arms were already open and ready for me to fall into easily.
"I'm sorry..." I sighed.
"Don't apologize," Mercedes replied. "You can still make things right."
"How?" I sniffled, standing back.
Her eyes widened as she tried hinting me, glancing to the stage and back. "I'm not deciding anything for you. But if someone were to ask me to a special evening with them... I might want to take that chance."
Now it was my turn for my eyes to widen in surprise, my heart pounding. I nodded silently in understanding.
"We'll be fine here. Go do what you gotta do."
"Okay," I breathed. "I think... I think the understudy has a show tonight."
* * *
My heart was still pounding by the time I burst into the empty loft apartment. I felt the urge to check the clock every few moments, convincing myself that there was still time. There had to be.
I dashed to my room and immediately began rummaging through my collection of clothes. When I finally dug up the formal wear, there was only one piece that stood out to me. No bright colors or funky patterns— my classic black suit was the only answer.
I quickly changed into the suit (with several glances at the clock on the nightstand) and pulled out a dark blue tie to finish it off.
The last thing I did was break out an extra amount of emergency money and shove my phone in my pocket, before slipping back out the door and plotting the fastest way to get to the airport from here.
* * *
"It's almost five o'clock. When exactly did you think you were going to get to him?"
I looked over to my father, who had previously been slightly less than thrilled to be driving out to the airport, picking me up from my spontaneous flight from New York to Ohio.
"Any time at all would be enough for me," I said as he pulled the old red truck into our home driveway.
"Look, I know you're an adult now and you make your own decisions," Dad said before we unbuckled our seat belts, "but next time you can warn a guy before you decide to spend all your work savings on a last-minute plane ticket. I was in the middle of my special on TV."
We both stepped out of the truck, one dressed in jeans and a flannel with the other in a suit and tie.
Once we circled around to the front, I let out a sigh. "I'm sorry."
"Don't be. It's this kind of crazy stuff that you remember when you're old," he replied. "Now give me a hug, and tell the guy I said hello."
"Will do," I smiled into his shoulder after our embrace. "And thank you."
Dad gave a simple nod, and pointed his thumb in the truck's direction. "Better get going. The motor's runnin'!"
"Right," I said to myself as Dad made his way back up to the house.
I jumped in the truck, looking to waste no more time before reaching the familiar Anderson home. (Well, except for always having the time to wave to Dad, who now stood on the porch watching me pull out.)
The streets of Lima were oddly chilling as they rolled past. I could see dark clouds forming above the tree-lined streets, much different from the last day I had spent here.
It didn't take much thought to drive to Blaine's house, even after all this time. Nothing here felt strange at all, as if I had been walking these paths yesterday.
It was surreal to think that only a day ago, I had been saying how I had planned to stay in New York, staying out of Lima altogether.
I felt my stomach tie a knot when I turned on to Blaine's street, rain beginning to pour steadily.
This is a bad idea.
I can't do this.
I should turn back now.
What would I do if I arrive there only to find that he's completely over me? Broken, finished, and upset by my rejection?
The nerves were enough to make me pull over that moment and kill the engine. Maybe if I took a moment to think, I wouldn't end up making a fool of myself.
I stepped out of the car into the rain, and I could see Blaine's house at the end of the street.
Now was the time. I could do this, not because I had faith he would love me, but because I knew I loved him. Stepping out onto the cold wet concrete didn't feel like there was a storm, but peace ahead.
It was time to make things right, once and for all. Splitting the road down the center, the thought of Blaine's gentle smile pushed me to a run.
So there I ran, through the rain in the middle of the street in my best suit.
As I drew closer, I steadied my breathing, blinking raindrops out of my eyes and I swore I could see him there, waiting for me.
"Blaine?" I breathed, intending to call out but only slipping a whisper.
It was him, standing on his porch, dressed in a handsome tux. He looked out into the yard, a thoughtful look playing on his soft face...
Could he not see me? I wondered. Did he know I'd end up here after all?
Suddenly I heard a car door shutting, and I swung my head around to see a tall, skinny boy only yards away walking up the pathway.
I immediately ducked behind a nearby neighbor's oak tree, which must have blocked his view of me initially.
I cautiously peeked around the trunk, my head spinning like never before. I watched as Blaine was shaken out of his previous daze as the boy offered him an umbrella.
Together they walked down the drive, towards a nice looking car, much nicer than what I've ever driven. The last glimpse of Blaine I could manage to catch was his look of uncertainty and thoughtfulness before he disappeared on the passenger side.
The car started up, and it was only a matter of moments before they began their drive down the old street.
That was the exact moment I knew that reality was slapping me right in the face for ignoring it for so long. Except now the sting was the tears on my cheeks, mixing in with the rain that dripped on me from overhead on the tree's sprawling branches.
It was Sebastian.
There was no one else that could capture Blaine's heart like Sebastian did. No one else could get Blaine out of the house like that, taking him to a dance that I had so foolishly denied him of.
And there he had stood, the boy that had been everything to Blaine that I wasn't. So close, and now they were both gone.
Yes, reality was setting in quite harshly by the time I brought myself to get up and walk back to the truck, now more soaked than ever.
I wasn't here for Blaine, and he was. I hadn't talked with Blaine, and he did. I had a rusty old truck that Blaine would be embarrassed to be in now that he had ridden in his.
As I sat in the drivers seat of the lifeless vehicle, it was now becoming clear that Lima would always be the realest, rooted place I'd know. And now, I'd give anything to have my head back in the clouds of New York City, where anyone can pretend that the truth is a million miles away.