“Oh, there you are. I’ve been looking for you forever.” – Blaine Anderson
There’s a corner of my heart that is yours. And I don’t mean for now, or until I’ve found somebody else, I mean forever. I mean to say that whether I fall in love a thousand times over or once or never again, there’ll always be a small quiet place in my heart that belongs only to you.
Kurt’s boots clacked
noisily in the empty halls of McKinley as he stalked past the
familiar rows of lockers. The more he thought about it, the
worse the idea of coming back to Lima became. Kurt, being
very susceptible to his dad’s pleading, had agreed to take advantage
of his few days off and come see him and Carole. He claimed his
reluctance was due to his new, busy, face-paced New York lifestyle,
but Burt saw through him immediately. It wasn’t much of an
accomplishment, though, since anyone with eyes could figure out the real reason that Kurt was avoiding his hometown like
the black plague. Regardless, Kurt knew he couldn’t visit Lima without stopping
by the old stomping grounds at least once. But he also didn’t want to
run the risk of bumping into Blaine, not after that tragically
awkward encounter at the Grease production. He ultimately decided to
come by an hour or so after school had ended, when nearly all of the
students had cleared out and the teachers still lurked in their
classrooms.
Rounding the corner,
a smile perked to his face once his destination came into view. He
pushed open the unlocked door and sighed happily, unable to deny the
instant feeling of comfort that washed over him when he stepped foot
into the choir room. His plan was to hang around for a little bit in
hopes that Mr. Schue was still on campus and they could have a little
catch-up chat when he came back. Kurt decided to busy himself until
then by slightly leaning against the piano and tapping out half of a
tune. He hummed along to it, despite not exactly knowing what song he
was playing. Kurt suddenly heard the sound of footsteps approaching
the room. He turned to face the doorway, his breath hitching when he
realized who was standing there. “Blaine.” Kurt said, voice
breathier than he intended. His brain told him to follow up the
awkward stating of his name with something else, a greeting perhaps,
but nothing made it’s way out of Kurt’s mouth.
Blaine wasn’t blind, deaf or dumb. He knew about Kurt being in town because Lima was the type of place where news like that didn’t stay a secret for long. Once one of the Glee Club kids found out, mainly Tina, the news hit Blaine within the span of time it took her to quickly text the concerned message asking if he knew and if he was okay. Of course he wasn’t. Reading her text was like a shredder to the chest but he replied that he would be fine and promised her she didn’t have to worry. One day and one sleepless night went by. Paying attention in any class wasn’t possible. All Blaine could think of was wanting to see him and then the absolute opposite. Back and forth the entire afternoon. He was such a garbled blend of confusion and frustration that by the time the last bell rang and his and Sam’s study hour at the library –a vague attempt at being productive once today– Blaine was in his car with the ignition started before he remembered he left all of his sheet music in on top of the piano in the choir room. Uncharacteristically slamming his hands against the wheel and going two shades of red in the process, hazel eyes stared at the sliver of his reflection in the mirror. Could it wait til tomorrow?
Getting back to Westerville for the weekend was top priority after the heartache inducing decision that he wouldn’t encroach on Kurt due to how they parted last time–too soon. No. Not if he was going to have any means of distraction. Grumbling, Blaine climbed out and jogged back inside and down the hall not seeing a soul. His steps slowed as he rounded the corner and heard music. K U R T. Blaine froze as Kurt their eyes met. His fingers even refused to cooperate and dropped his keys with a metallic clatter. The noise resembled the erratic pulse in his chest as his stomach fell. “Kurt,” he couldn’t breathe. “I–Sorry–My music,” he slowly looked at the books and sheets of paper–some they bought together–sitting past Kurt’s arm and back. The piano, the music, Kurt could have been separated from him by thousands of miles by the distance that became oh-so-much more hollow and far. Something inside broke. In a rush of sudden motion, he darted down reaching unsteadily for his keychain shaking his head and not daring to look back up. “Sorry–not important–I didn’t know you were here. I’ll get it tomorrow. Sorry,” he repeated forgetting he already apologized. Twice. Who was counting? There were never enough times he could say that word to the person he was saying it to.
pianokeysandbowties 