[ Read the rest of the verse here. ]
*I’m going to say this now, but I have no idea when the next part will be up. I got this finished so quickly because I knew exactly what I wanted to happen and yeah so… Song used is “I’m Not That Girl" from Wicked.
[AO3] 3.5k
Kurt expects an email from Blaine outlining how exactly this whole “firing" thing works out. In fact, he checks both his personal and school accounts a little obsessively. But, by Friday, he hasn’t heard anything—and maybe he should have expected that. Maybe Kurt is just supposed to inherently know that he doesn’t have the grader job anymore, and Blaine decided it would be best if they just cut communication all-together.
Fuck. Mr. Anderson. He’ll have to call him Mr. Anderson again.
It still hurts a few days later, but he’d expected that. He keeps telling himself that it’s silly, that he needs to stop, but every time he thinks of Blaine, he can’t help it. They were friends, at least, and Kurt had liked his job being a grader. He’d liked having someone on the staff that he was semi-close with.
The problem is, he’d gotten too close. He’d ruined it.
The only good thing is that at least Kurt won’t awkwardly run into Blaine anywhere—and fuck it, he can continue calling him Blaine in his own head at least, there’s no harm in that. But Blaine is an English professor, and Kurt is a Fashion major who’s finished up all his English-related GEs. The buildings aren’t even close together on campus. So unless it’s another grocery store incident like back at Thanksgiving, the chances of Kurt having to come face-to-face with his humiliation and rejected feelings is slim (which is better than all the other times he’s had to face it).
It’s a pathetic bright side, but it’s a bright side, and he’s going to cling to it until he moves past this bit of heart ache and just… Moves on with everything.
Which would be a lot easier if Blaine had said something. Anything.
But he hadn’t. And it’s not like Kurt can go and ask for closure, so he’ll just have to settle with Blaine’s silence.
*
Tina texts him Friday night while he’s indulging in a face mask.
karaoke tmmrw nite? 8pm itll b fun!!!
And Kurt stares at it and tries not to frown as he thinks. Because he’d already considered (and marginally accepted) the loss of Blaine in his life, but not being a grader anymore kind of negates his reason to hang out with a group of people that he’s become friends with over the last three months.
Then again, they probably don’t know he’s not a grader anymore. He wonders when Blaine plans on telling them.
Either way, it’ll be a good distraction, and a good excuse for him to hang out with them. Spring break has been entirely lackluster, and Kurt is surprisingly ready for classes to start again so he has something to throw himself into.
See you there! he texts back, trying his best not to smile so he doesn’t break his mask. It’ll be fun, he tells himself. After all, none of them have ever heard him sing.
*
Quinn is the one who texts him the address on Saturday, and it’s to a place downtown that Kurt’s heard of but hasn’t been to. He might be a second year, but he doesn’t exactly have a ridiculously large circle of friends that enjoy things like karaoke. Maybe he would, if he’d stuck with musical theater, but most of the girls (and handful of guys) in his own major never really suggest karaoke as something to go and do on the weekends.
Everyone but Nick is already there—Jamie gives one of his awkward little waves in greeting, and the girls all take turns hugging him, Tina already prattling away about her own spring break and asking questions that she doesn’t really give him time to answer. Kurt feels a pang in his chest when he realizes how much he’s going to see all of them once a week.
There are a few people there that Kurt doesn’t know, and he remembers Tina asking him if he wanted to bring anyone with him (he hadn’t). He’s introduced to Tina and Brynn’s boyfriends, and a couple of Quinn and Jamie’s friends, all of whom are occupying a two booths on the side of the bar.
"When’s Nick supposed to be here?" He asks, scooting into the booth next to Quinn and smiling at her.
"Soon, I think?" She looks around, as if someone else might know the answer. “Mr. A, too."
Kurt feels like his entire body freezes.
"What?" He asks, voice forced to remain cheerful.
"Mr. A!" Tina turns around in her seat in the other booth, grinning at both of them. “He loves these sort of things!"
Of course he does. Kurt starts to try to think up an excuse to leave.
"I’m excited to hear you sing, Kurt," Brynn says, her voice a little too quiet in the loud room. He looks at her, surprised. “You always talk about it." She smiles, kindly, and Kurt blinks in surprise.
"I’ll have to say I’m pretty excited, too," Quinn adds from beside him, and nudges his shoulder, and Kurt smiles, preening a little bit. Well, he’s already there, after all. And Kurt has never been the sort of person to just run away from things.
"Okay, but you guys have to sing, too," he challenges, and Quinn laughs while Brynn stutters in surprise and tries to get out of it. Sitting there and talking with them, Kurt really wishes they’d been around for the entirety of spring break. He probably would have enjoyed it a lot more.
*
Nick arrives and squeezes into Tina’s booth. They all order food, and swap stories about their breaks. Kurt is sure to leave his visit to Blaine’s house completely out of it, and draws sympathy when he talks about focusing on projects for his classes and Skyping with family and friends. Stories dissolve after that into stories about anything—Quinn tells him about this Scottish TA she had and how his thick accent made it difficult for her to understand, and Brynn shares a story about how one of her professors once said the word erection instead of eruption in the middle of a lecture.
It’s fun, and possibly the best way for Kurt to end his break. Probably also the best way to end his regularly scheduled time with this group of people, too, but he doesn’t let himself think about that too much. After all, they’re all friends on Facebook, and he has all their numbers and addresses and emails. Just because they don’t work together doesn’t mean they have to stop being friends.
Brynn’s boyfriend Toby—who, Kurt learns, is actually a grad student, and he would love to hear that story—is telling them his favorite excuses some of his students have given him in the past for late assignments, when Kurt happens to look toward the entrance and see Blaine. His entire body goes still against his volition, and despite someone else being in the middle of a story, he decides he needs to get up and sing right then.
He’s not going to run away entirely, but that doesn’t mean he has to be at the table when Blaine walks over and everyone starts greeting him.
Thankfully, he’s the only one who’s noticed Blaine arriving—which should be strange, but Kurt has become painfully aware of his presence these last few months. But it means Kurt can slip away without too much suspicion. After all, he could just suddenly have the urge to sing. He’s up by the stage before Blaine has even spotted their table, but Kurt can’t help but watch him as he makes his way through the crowd and people jump up to greet him.
He feels like he’s sulking, wishing he could be over there and pretend like everything was normal. Like maybe what had happened last Tuesday had never happened at all. But it had, and he couldn’t take it back now—he’s still not sure if he would even want to. As much as it stings to see Blaine, there’s something freeing about not lying to himself anymore.
Quinn gestures towards him, and Kurt spins around to look at the song selection book before he can see Blaine no doubt look over.
Great. Now he knows Kurt is there.
Kurt is flipping through the book without even really paying attention to it, before he realizes that he really should be. After all, he’s not just up by the stage to avoid Blaine—he’s up there to sing, and this is the first time all of these people will be hearing him.
This is the first time Blaine will be hearing him.
He wishes he’d had the foresight to talk to Rachel about this beforehand—she always knows the right thing to sing to leave an impression.
It’s a good thing this bar is frequented by musical theater majors; Kurt wonders if the show tunes selection would be quite so extensive otherwise. Well, he might not have Rachel’s hit-or-miss guidance, but he does have a good old fall-back. Sort of. He briefly wonders if this is a little passive aggressive of him, but… Well, he does like the song.
If it’s vaguely fitting (sort of, kind of) to what he’s feeling right now, that doesn’t hurt, right?
Kurt realizes, as he heads up on stage, that it’s been awhile since he’s done this. But he already feels that prick—something like nerves, except he’s not gripped in terror. Performing is a rush, like a roller coaster ride, leaving him breathless and exhilarated, but there isn’t fear. Not really. There’s that brief hesitance before the lights wash everything out, before everything clicks into place, before it’s just Kurt, the music, and the knowledge of the audience looking and listening.
It doesn’t have to be an upbeat song, and this one certainly isn’t—Kurt slips into his performing space either way, gripping the microphone with both hands as the music starts behind him.
He smiles, and closes his eyes to start.
“Hands touch, eyes meet. Sudden silence, sudden heat. Hearts leap in a giddy whirl… He could be that boy, but I’m not that girl." It doesn’t fit exactly, and maybe if Kurt had looked through the book, he could have found something perfect. But he didn’t want to look like he was trying too hard, that he was singing something incredibly pointed.
This is only a little pointed. After all, as far as he knows, it’s not another person keeping Kurt from Blaine. Although, a twelve year age difference might as well account for another person.
…Kurt’s never even thought about the idea that there might be someone in Blaine’s life. After all, it’s not like they ever talk about personal things. He’s never seen pictures in Blaine’s office or house, but that doesn’t mean anything.
And then Kurt reminds himself that it doesn’t matter. It’s not like whether or not Blaine is available makes a difference. He’ll always be unavailable to Kurt, in any capacity.
“Every so often we long to steal to the land of what-might-have-been. But that doesn’t soften the ache we feel when reality sets back in…”
Kurt is glad for stage lights. There’s a power that comes with knowing the audience is there, but not being able to see them. In most cases, it’s the sort of thing that would probably get to him—to be seen but not able to see—but it doesn’t when he’s performing. The darkness feels like it gives him courage.
But at the same time, he wishes he could see a little better. He wishes he could look back to where his friends are sitting, to where Blaine no doubt is. He wonders if Blaine is listening, really listening. He wonders what Blaine thinks—of the song, of his voice, of him. He wonders if Blaine understands that the feelings Kurt is pouring into the words without really meaning to are because of him.
It’s a silly crush, Kurt keeps reminding himself, even though it doesn’t feel anything close to silly. Then again, Kurt’s always felt a little too much when it came to certain things.
He might not be able to see, but he looks toward the area of the room where his friends are, anyway. They don’t have to think it means anything, even though it does.
“Don’t wish. Don’t start. Wishing only wounds the heart. I wasn’t born for the rose and the pearl. There’s a girl I know… He loves her so." Kurt smiles sadly, and closes his eyes again. "I’m not that girl.”
And the audience claps, and Kurt’s face bursts into a completely incontrollable grin—because that’s one thing he’ll never be able to help or fight against in any capacity. Having an audience, feeling that rush, that appreciation, fills him with indescribable joy. For a brief second, Kurt even feels the tinge of regret that his love for the stage, for performing, fell to the wayside to make way for his passion for design.
Nobody ever said I couldn’t have both, he reminds himself, doing a giddy bow before he leaves the stage so it can be taken by the next performance. He walks with his chin up, feeling like confidence is pounding through his veins. It’s easy to not be afraid of Blaine when he’s feeling so damn good.
"I’ll have to say I’m impressed," Quinn says with one of her smiles as he gets back to the booth, still high on his short performance.
"Kurt, that was amazing," Brynn tells him earnestly.
"I can’t believe we didn’t know you could sing like that!" Tina looks at him in an almost accusatory fashion, and Kurt just smiles coyly and shrugs.
"Yes, well." He tilts his chin up, and a few of them laugh, and he smiles bigger. It’s still a night out with friends. It’s not weird, or uncomfortable, and Kurt feels like a superhero right now.
"I’ve got to say, Kurt," says a voice behind him, and he knows who it is before he even turns around. “The musical theater department really lost something when you decided to switch majors." Blaine is standing there, smiling at him in an almost hesitant way. Kurt feels his cheeks bloom with color, and he’s happy again for the dim lighting as he dips his head.
"I don’t think they would have known what to do with me," he counters, trying to keep his voice even as he treads very uneven ground.
"I wouldn’t sell yourself short, Kurt. You’re very talented."
Kurt presses his lips together and takes a deep breath, before giving the best smile of thanks he can muster.
"Thank you… Mr. Anderson."
For a brief second, something strange flits across Blaine’s expression—surprise? disappointment? Kurt might even be wishful enough to say hurt—but then it’s gone.
"Wait until you hear Mr. A sing," Tina is saying as she comes to stand beside him, looping their arms together, and Kurt looks at her and wonders if she’s really that oblivious to the energy that exists between him and Blaine.
Then again, maybe Kurt is still the only one attuned to it.
"Tina." Blaine laughs, a little self-deprecating, and it’s something that Kurt isn’t quite used to seeing on him.
"Don’t be modest," she colds him, playfully, and then looks back at Kurt. “Did you know that he used to want to be a performer? He’s a great educator, don’t get me wrong," she adds as an aside to Blaine, and he laughs out a none taken, “but talk about a loss. I think the entertainment industry would weep if they knew," she finishes, solemnly, and Kurt would swear by that little speech that Tina had her own crush on the professor.
Well, at least Kurt has a bit more of a chance than she does.
Not that he has a chance.
He really needs to stop.
"Well, I suppose after that, I can’t really say no, can I?" Blaine asks, and Tina beams at him. There’s a few awkward moments of silence before someone is pulling Tina into another conversation, and Kurt decides he should just sit down and act as normal as possible. It’s not that he’s scared of Blaine, he just… Isn’t sure how he’s supposed to be acting right now.
He’s half turned back towards the booth when Blaine reaches out and grabs his upper arm—at least Kurt doesn’t jerk away violently this time. Small victories, although it would have been even better if it had never happened to begin with. Maybe then things would be relatively normal and he could just quietly swoon over Blaine in the corner without being hyperactively aware of the fact that that is what he was doing.
Because if he does it now, Blaine might see, and if Blaine sees he is definitely going to know exactly what’s going on.
And that, that is a little terrifying.
"Kurt, I think we should talk."
Kurt’s mouth goes dry, but he nods, and Blaine gestures towards the bar with a tilt of his head. Kurt follows behind him, silently, completely at a loss for what to say.
"I want you to know that I don’t expect you to quit," Blaine starts, and Kurt has to keep himself from suddenly stopping due to shock. “In fact, I don’t want you to quit. I like having you on the team, Kurt, and I—" Blaine stops, glances back at him, shakes his head once, "—I don’t want you to quit, either."
It doesn’t feel like the original end of that sentence, but Kurt doesn’t push. He doesn’t know if there is any leeway, and he’d rather just listen in this conversation than make anything worse.
"It’s only weird if we make it weird, right?" Blaine supplies, brightly, as they stop to the side of the bar, somewhere out of the way of foot traffic. “I… Look, Kurt, you know that—"
"I know," Kurt butts in, because he’s already been rejected and he really doesn’t need to relive that. “I already told you, I don’t expect anything, Professor."
"You can still call me Blaine, Kurt." Blaine’s eyebrows lower on his forehead. “We are friends, aren’t we?"
"Are you sure that would be appropriate?" Kurt bites back, unable to keep the venom from his words after nursing his hurt for the last several days.
"Kurt." Blaine frowns, his face becoming stern. “You’re a student, I’m a member of the faculty. You should know that you’re encouraged to become close to your professors, especially those within your department, but the relationship is meant to remain on professional, or friendly at the absolute most."
Kurt feels like a child being scolded, but, in retrospect, isn’t that what he is?
When Kurt doesn’t answer, Blaine sighs.
"I thought you said you didn’t expect anything?" He looks tired, his gaze softer, like he’s trying to be gentle or sympathetic or something.
"I… I don’t." Kurt crosses his arms and looks away. “I guess it’s just not in my nature to give up easily," he mutters. And Blaine chuckles, drawing Kurt’s attention.
"Something that will no doubt get you far in life, just as much as it gets you into trouble." Blaine smiles wryly.
"Well," Kurt responds, dryly, drawing his shoulders back. “You might as well just tell it to me straight."
Blaine’s eyebrows arch.
"Tell you what?"
"…that I don’t have a chance in hell? I know that I don’t, I just… Sometimes you need to hear things like that to believe them, you know?"
Blaine looks honestly surprised, his mouth hanging open slightly.
"I can’t understand how someone like you doesn’t have a boyfriend," is the last thing Kurt expects Blaine to say (okay, maybe not the last thing, but it is completely out of left field), and Kurt stares in stunned silence.
"I—well, it’s not…" He stutters, looking away, and doesn’t Blaine realize this isn’t helping anything? That this is just making things easier? Kurt closes his eyes and breathes. “I guess we can just say I’m pretty particular, and leave it at that, alright?" He gives Blaine a tight smile. “So… This? We’re… Okay? I don’t make you feel… Uncomfortable?"
"What? No, of-of course not, Kurt. No." Blaine looks abashed by the suggestion of it. “Yes, we’re absolutely okay."
Kurt smiles for the first real time since encountering Blaine that night, and gives a little nod.
"I’m going to head back then." Kurt thumbs over his shoulder. Blaine nods, probably more than is necessary, and then Kurt turns away. It was… Weird, but it wasn’t bad. Kurt didn’t lose his job, or his friends, or Blaine, even. At least, not completely.
He pauses halfway back to the table, glancing over his shoulder, and Blaine still hasn’t moved from his spot by the bar. In fact, he’s looking straight at Kurt, watching him, and it makes something zing unfamiliar zing up Kurt’s spine.
After all that, Kurt can’t help but wonder if maybe he has more of Blaine than either of them are aware of.