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rmTitle: Tales of Minor Gods
Rating: R (barely)
Pairings: Kurt/Blaine
Spoilers (if any): None.
Warnings (if any): None.
Word Count: ~3,800
Summary: Kurt finally gets cast in something. It's not exactly the relief he thought it would be.
Song Notes: The song that Blaine thinks the reviewer is referencing in regard to Kurt is Sinead O'Connor's "Just Like U Said It Would B." I originally wanted to have Kurt sing it in one of these stories, and decided that he would never sing something that used the word "lover" so many times. For anyone not actually familiar with Oklahoma: "Surrey with the Fringe on Top"
Author Notes: A big thank you to![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
wordsofastory, who is not a Glee fan but helped come up with Kurt's catch phrases about the show he finds himself cast in the course of this story.
Boston: Following Home | These Thousand Names for Gratitude | All the Honesty of Politics | Circles as the Dark Winds Down | The Distance Between Ohio and Boston | All the Pretty Little Horses | Languages You Don't Even Know | Fauna and Flora | Where Water Doesn't Speak | Under Glass We Are Expected to Blossom | You Were Someone Else Before We Came Here
D.C.: Strategies and Tactics | The Many Shades of Sugar | When Sea Levels Rise | The History of Sand
Two weeks after they get back from the beach, Rachel calls, crying. She's been cast in a tour and so Kurt assumes the tears are happy ones.
They aren't.
“It's children's theater, Kurt. Three months, playing an eight-year-old, driving around with six people in a van. I will, of course, bring excellence and a certain remarkable je ne sais quoi to the role, but I'm going to hate every single minute of it.”
“But it's real professional theater --”
“Of course.”
“And you get to sing.”
“I'm the lead.”
“And your card?”
“Yup.”
“Then congratulations, Rachel,” Kurt says stiffly. “I'm very happy for you.”
*
When Blaine walks through their door that night, Kurt says, without preamble, “Rachel got a tour.”
Blaine's jaw dropping into a grin. “Oh my god.”
Kurt feels terrible that he isn't the same sort of happy for her. “It's children's theater,” he adds, with a vicious little thrill.
Blaine freezes, his whole demeanor shifting and tensing like he's trying not to say something terrible. “Really?”
“She was in tears when she called.”
“Happy tears?”
“Oh no.”
“Oh my,” Blaine says, putting his bag down and cautiously sitting next to Kurt on the couch. “How do you feel about it?” He brushes his fingers through Kurt's hair as he asks.
“I wish I'd been nicer on the phone, but mostly I'm trying not to feel anything at all.”
*
Kurt cannot believe Blaine thinks a combined audition for the Fringe Fest is somehow the answer to Rachel getting her fucking Equity card before he does.
“I just feel like everything I try for is a step back from the previous thing, and I'm still not getting it anyway and I don't even....” He breaks off with a noise of frustration. It's taken him a day to freak out about this, but now that he has, he can't stop.
Blaine resists the urge to tell Kurt to calm down, knowing it won't end well. Instead, he tries “You're so funny,” fondly, which isn't better and is possibly worse.
“Thank you, Blaine. That's an incredibly helpful expression of support,” Kurt snaps.
Blaine sighs. “Just listen to me for a second. You're rational about everything from your dance skills to our --”
“Don't say it; we are not engaged -- ”
“And yet you still want your first job to be on Broadway, and I don't get it. You're already working as a performer; but you have a nearly blank resume, which doesn't, by the way, say “discover me,” to a casting director.”
“Like you would know,” Kurt spits out viciously.
They each reel back from it, Kurt flailing his hands and trying to apologize almost instantly.
“I didn't mean --”
Blaine scratches at the back of his neck for a moment and then holds up his hand. “No, you did. And I can either defend my choices or point out that my resume is still longer than yours, but mostly I want to not fucking fight with you and not have to watch your talent stay hidden because you keep chasing after the wrong things.”
“But what if I want to fight with you?”
“Yeah, well,” Blaine says, levering himself off the couch and yanking off the tie Kurt had looped around that morning. “Me too. But, unlike you, I know I can't always get what I want.” He goes out onto their deck because he made a promise once never to storm out of the house again; it doesn't stop him from slamming the door.
*
That night, Blaine goes to bed early. When Kurt joins him, he slips an arm around his boyfriend's waist, pressing his face into the space between his shoulder blades. Kurt is still terrible at apologies, but this is, for him, what passes as one.
“Here's what you don't understand,” Blaine says covering Kurt's hand on his belly with his own. “When you sing, especially lately, you are terrifying and miraculous. And when I sing, it makes people smile. I'm a good performer, Kurt, but it's not the most important thing I can do. So I need you to stop acting like that's a betrayal.”
“Is that easier to say when you're not looking at me?”
“Yes.”
“Making people smile matters,” Kurt mumbles into Blaine's back, as if he's embarrassed.
“Sure. But not enough.”
“It saved my life.”
Blaine smiles wanly and squeezes Kurt's hand. “I will always sing with you, anywhere and anywhen you want. But that's about you now, and not the world. I need you to start forgiving me for that.”
Kurt doesn't say anything for a long time. “I'm not angry at you,” he says softly.
“Then what happened earlier?”
Kurt rolls onto his back, unsure of how to explain himself. “What's your first language?” he asks, abruptly.
“Kurt –”
“Singing. Singing is my first language. And I always want to think it's yours too, Blaine, so the idea of you giving that up is wrong and creepy and terrifying and makes me think of the worst of this shit with your dad. It's how you speak; it's how you speak to me, and I can't....”
Blaine shushes him, turning over to gather him up. It's so strange, because Kurt isn't only taller than him, but broader across the shoulders despite all his willowy grace; it's been so long since he's crumbled like this. “I'm right here.”
“I just....”
“I know. Just breathe with me for a little bit.”
Eventually, Kurt quiets, the trembling that never quite gets to tears subsiding, and into the dark and silence Blaine says, “It isn't.”
“What?” Kurt asks.
“My first language. Singing. It's not –”
“Then what?”
“Pleasing people,” Blaine says softly, like he's a little bit ashamed. “When I was a baby, I never cried when my parents took me restaurants, apparently. My mother says I never wanted to upset anyone.”
“So well mannered,” Kurt snarks, trying for humor only because he is deeply unnerved.
“Do you think it's possible to worry about disappointing people at six-months-old? I've always thought my father hated it, that I didn't wail to show the world how strong his son was.”
Kurt hugs Blaine tightly. Before they'd met, he would have said no.
*
The hangover from that conversation lasts for two days, until Kurt fucks Blaine in the too early morning hard enough that their headboard actually bangs against the wall, stuttering a laugh out of him even as Kurt's buried inside him.
In the afterglow, Kurt tugs on Blaine's lower lip with his fingers until he convinces him to call in sick to his internship. When he complies, they stay in bed until noon, Kurt finally rolling out from between their filthy sheets to go to the audition he doesn't really care about but that Blaine seems invested in on his behalf.
*
Only a fraction of the shows are anything resembling musicals at all. But after he sings his standard sixteen bars of cheerful Broadway, one of the auditors, and there are a lot of auditors, says, “Okay, now sing something unsettling.”
Kurt stops himself from rolling his eyes, takes a deep breath, and tries to think as little as possible before launching into “Cosmic Love” because Henry and Blaine have both said he should. He's shaking by the time he's done, and on his way to work at the bar calls Alex in Rome and sings it to her softly.
*
“Callback!” Kurt squeals when he gets home that night, waving his phone where the email is still up on his screen at Blaine.
“I knew it!”
“Fine, yes, you are right about everything. Ask me what it is,” Kurt says, vibrating as he practically sings out the words.
“What is it?”
“Musical adaptation of Orpheus and Eurydice! I am going to get this, Blaine, I am so going to get this.”
Blaine gives him a besotted smile, and Kurt wants to point out that this, keeping them both happy, is why his success means everything.
*
At his call-back time, Kurt's the only boy there, and smugly he thinks he's already been cast as Orpheus and is just there to find his Eurydice, until the director pulls him aside. He tells him he's actually being auditioned for Persephone, and assures him that if he does cast him, it won't be a drag role, just Kurt as he is, all shoulders and slim hips, playing a girl once stolen and risen low.
Kurt wants to scream in frustration, and when he and the women he is competing against are asked to improvise first vocally and then with movement, Kurt does not hesitate to invade their space. It is, he knows, probably rude and unprofessional, but it's what he would have done in New Directions, and if he's honest, it feels good, even if only one of them really understands that for all Kurt's barely concealed anger, nothing he's doing is anything but play.
*
He gets the part, announcing it to Blaine when he finds out by calling him at work and saying, “I'm the Queen of Hell!”
“Best interruption to a policy briefing, EVER,” Blaine whispers into his phone in response, slouching in his chair at the back of the room.
*
Blaine's giddy for him, until their celebratory dinner, when he goes off on a tangent about the lack of powerful roles for women in the theater and how it's sort of fucked up that the only person his director thought was powerful enough to play a woman is a man.
Kurt, in response, sets down his glass primly and tries not to smile as he scolds him. “Blaine, I no longer have an empty resume, so this is Not the Time.
Blaine chuckles to himself and nods, and Kurt reaches across the table, taking his hand and squeezing into it a hundred types of love.
*
As rehearsals start, Kurt quickly determines a number of things.
First the show is terrible. Truly awful, in a way that would be hilarious to spork with Blaine if he weren't trapped in the middle of it.
Second, the girl playing Eurydice hates him.
And third, he really, really has to stop his parents from coming to see it, but Blaine seems to be in some sort of conspiracy with them about it, and he just doesn't know how to intercede without making everyone feel bad.
*
“What? Are they making you show your ass?” his father asks when Kurt insists, yet again, that he and Carole, really, really don't need to come out for it.
“Only metaphorically,” Kurt breathes, but it's not enough to deter his father who survived tea parties and New Directions and Pip Pip Hooray, and maybe it won't be so bad.
Blaine tries to reassure him that his single song is good and interesting, and there's a certain charm in being able to say I'm the Queen of Hell, and hey, at least it's not children's theater.
Kurt's more relieved that's it's not a tour. The worst part of being jealous of Rachel means acknowledging that he's willing to leave home. Or worse, wants to. And Blaine needs him so much.
*
“They want me to be in the maenad scene!” Kurt calls as he kicks the front door open, full of disgust two weeks before opening. “I'm the Queen of Hell, why do I have to be in the maenad scene? The maenad scene is awful.”
“I'm sorry,” Blaine says, not knowing what else to do.
“It's not your fault.”
“Somebody died sorry,” Blaine clarifies.
“Oh. Well, that's all right then,” Kurt says and settles himself onto Blaine's lap, willing to be kissed.
*
The show opens in a flurry of false optimism and exhaustion. They are not the hot ticket of the festival and Kurt only sends postcards announcing the performance to a few casting directors in New York who have been moderately interested in him because he knows they won't come see it.
Rachel, pissed at him for not having had time to go up to New York and see her off the week before, sends him a passive-aggressive text message from a three-day stop at a school system in southern New Jersey.
Then Blaine calls an hour-and-a-half before curtain to say that while his parents' plane has arrived safely, their luggage hasn't, and they'll be there as soon as he can.
“Oh my god,” Kurt whispers frantically into the phone. “That's divine. Stall them.”
*
Kurt is jangly before he goes on stage and tries to brace himself for the experience by thinking of Henry's advice to him in email the night before: Screw fitting in to your terrible show. Do what you have to do for you.
Kurt had nodded reading it then, and nods thinking of it now. As he enters, the lights are warm on his face and he thinks of them as a remembrance of the world not off the the stage, but outside the lands of hell. It hurts to think of only being able to rule in dark places.
*
The maenad scene is still terrible, the boy playing Orpheus completely misses a climatic high note, and the severed head special effect provokes barely restrained titters from the audience, but when Kurt steps forward for his solo bow, the audience roars, and it feels real, like more than just Blaine and his father and Carole putting on a brave face for him.
He smiles, and fondly thinks Fuck you, Rachel Berry.
*
They wait in the shitty lobby of the shitty black box theater for Kurt, Blaine holding a giant bouquet of flowers, Burt wringing his hat in his hands and Carole beaming in a way that suggests she's more in touch with the absurdity of it all than any of the men around her.
When Kurt finally comes out, Blaine can tell he's nervous. Part of it is the blush under the faint sheen of glitter that's still high on his cheeks, but mostly it's the body language. He looks smaller, younger, and twists his fingers together in the same manner that Burt is abusing his hat.
“Oh did you guys actually see that?” he asks with an awkward wince as he smoothes a hand over his surprisingly uncooperative hair.
“We did,” Carole assures him.
“I was hoping the plane would be late.”
“You were incredible,” Blaine says, thrusting the flowers at him before gathering Kurt up in a hug that crushes them between their bodies.
Kurt smiles sheepishly at his dad over Blaine's shoulder and then closes his eyes.
“Was I okay?” he whispers to his boyfriend.
“A revelation in a sea of chaos,” Blaine says, before stepping back.
“Dad, hi,” he says, laughing awkwardly then. “Please don't view my aspirations in light of --”
“I have no idea what that was,” Burt says, “but Blaine swears I wasn't supposed to. You were great, kid. Whole audience held its breath. I'm glad I could see it.”
It's this praise, more than any of the rest of it, that convinces Kurt that it really will be okay, and he hugs his father as if he has just returned to the surface of the world.
*
“It's so weird having you here,” Kurt gushes as he shows them around Georgetown, Dupont Circle and the Mall.
His father asks if he is happy when he points out the building with the apartment they couldn't afford on the block he loved.
“I... it's complicated.” Kurt admits, although he tries not to.
“But you and Blaine...,” his father pushes.
“Also hard,” Kurt says, wondering if he should laugh nervously and blush at the accidental double entendre, if that's what it takes to make this conversation he doesn't want to have easier.
“Do you want to talk about it?” Carole asks.
Kurt shakes his head. “I'm struggling a little bit with being here; and he's really ready to be done with school. We'll get through it, and then we'll move to New York and live happily ever after. We've both waited through worse.”
“Ohio,” Burt says, and there's some tinge of anger or guilt there that Kurt can't let himself look at too closely.
“Mmmmmhmmmm,” he agrees with a false, catty and oh so gay smile. “Besides, I love him, and this too will pass. Now where should we eat while I give you two the briefing on the fact that I really, really do work at a bar?”
*
“Best behavior,” Kurt reminds Seanna again, squeezing her shoulders after he sets down drinks for her and Henry, the unavoidable George, and his parents.
“Tell George, not me,” she says.
“You're babysitting,” Kurt says, pointing at her, before dropping his tray at the bar and trotting up to the mic.
“Now,” he declares, “if anyone was looking for something dark and moody from me today? You're out of luck. My parents are here, and I'm busy being the Queen of Hell over at the Fringe, so light and airy's all I got in me right now. Can we survive that?”
The late-afternoon crowd makes some obligatory noises of agreement, spurred on by his friends and Carole.
“Fabulous,” Kurt says, and launches into “Surry with the Fringe on Top.”
“Sometimes, it's almost weird hearing him sing boy songs,” Burt notes.
“Oh, you haven't heard weird until you hear Blaine's song choices,” Henry says.
Burt laughs. “Oh, I know all about Blaine's terrible song choices. Did he ever tell you what he did to the boy he was chasing before Kurt?”
*
Sometime after seven, Blaine comes bounding into the bar from his internship, waving to Kurt, kissing Carole on the cheek, and slapping a several pieces of paper down in the center of their table.
“Reviews!” he says, giddy.
“Wait,” George drawls. “Kurt said we weren't allowed to come see the show because it's embarrassingly terrible, but you're allowed to bring reviews? I feel confusion and the need for more gin.”
“The show is terrible, but Kurt is amazing and the reviews agree,” Blaine says, slightly breathless.
“Wait, were you just totally at work late because you were vanity Googling your boyfriend?” Seanna asks.
“No, I have an alert set up.”
“Because that isn't creepy,” Henry says under his breath.
“Don't start,” Blaine says, pointing at him.
Henry holds his hands up in mock defense. “If Lizzy doesn't care, I certainly don't.”
“Lizzy?” Burt mouths to Carole, who just pats him on the arm.
*
“'While I kept waiting, in vain it turns out, for this theatrical atrocity to descend to a level of kitsch that could at least provide some Rocky Horror-esque joy, there was one bright spot: Kurt Hummel in a brief, and admittedly inexplicable, turn as Persephone. With a remarkable range and a stage presence that's both terrifying and oddly vulnerable, Hummel graces the show with its only moments not only of adequacy, but of transcendence,'” Blaine reads once Kurt has a moment to stop by their table.
“Oh my god,” he says, and drops into a chair.
“Wait, wait, you have to hear the other one,” Blaine says, still giddy.
“They're all going to hate me,” Kurt wails.
“What?”
“Everyone in the show! How am I going to face them? Oh my god.”
Blaine doesn't know what to say, and so continues onto the next review. “'If you did buy the all show pass, however, you may want to sit through these 102 minutes of horror if only to experience seven minutes in heaven from Kurt Hummel as Persephone. He sounds like a late-80s Sinead O'Connor filtered through the golden age of Broadway.'”
“I don't even know what that means,” Kurt moans. “And I could have done without the closet make-out game reference. How is this even happening?” He grabs the printouts from Blaine. “How are these real?”
“Do you need a drink?” George asks.
Kurt rolls his eyes. “George?”
“Yes?”
“Shut up.”
“Look, can we come see the show now?” Seanna asks.
“Yes, I guess, I mean... it'll be good to have a house at least,” he says to her before turning to Blaine. “What the fuck do I do?”
“Pretend you haven't seen them; talk about how grateful you are for the opportunity if it comes up; make sure everyone you've ever auditioned for in New York knows.”
“Okay,” he says taking a deep breath. “Okay. I can do this. And I'm at work, and we don't have another show for two days, and there's nothing I can do about it now anyway.”
Blaine nods at him and takes his hand. “Exactly.”
Kurt grabs his face and kisses him hard. “I love you,” he murmurs against his boyfriend's lips. “I couldn't do this without you.”
“You don't have to,” Blaine says softly. “Go sling drinks.”
“Okay.”
“We can do a duet later, if you want?”
Kurt closes his eyes and nods. “Yeah. Good. Thank you,” he says and then he's gone.
Burt gives him an appraising look. “You sure know how to make an entrance, Blaine.”
*
After Kurt's shift, Blaine takes Burt, Carole and him to a late dinner. He orders a bottle of wine, which Kurt feels awkward about in the face of working in a bar, George's drinking, and every uncomfortable dinner he's ever had with Blaine's parents.
But when Blaine raises his glass to him, pausing long enough before he speaks for Kurt's eyes to flit around the low-lit room, it allow him to pretend they are in New York, having dinner while he's jubilantly sweaty and miserable after a show. He shivers.
“Someone walk over your grave?” Carole asks.
Kurt shakes his head and laughs, even though it's a superstition he hates.
“No,” he says, feeling around for words for the sensation. “Maybe someone just walked under my marquee.”
*
“I noticed you haven't paged Rachel, yet,” Blaine says, after they've dropped Burt and Carole off at their hotel and are strolling hand in hand towards the metro.
Kurt shrugs. “It didn't seem important.”
“I thought it was going to.”
“She has her ordeal. I have mine.”
Blaine squeezes his hand. “You should listen to the song I think they were referencing.”
“You know I'm worried if it's in your music collection, right?”
Blaine laughs. “I used to listen to her stuff all the time, before I met you, before Dalton. Lots of want and fear.”
“How'd you find it?”
“I don't even remember anymore.”
Kurt smiles and swings their clasped hands. “These next two years are going to be unbearable,” he says, his voice oddly light.
“It'll be fine,” Blaine says with a chuckle. “Just pretend you're Persephone.”
--
Next: A Little Bit Ruined
Rating: R (barely)
Pairings: Kurt/Blaine
Spoilers (if any): None.
Warnings (if any): None.
Word Count: ~3,800
Summary: Kurt finally gets cast in something. It's not exactly the relief he thought it would be.
Song Notes: The song that Blaine thinks the reviewer is referencing in regard to Kurt is Sinead O'Connor's "Just Like U Said It Would B." I originally wanted to have Kurt sing it in one of these stories, and decided that he would never sing something that used the word "lover" so many times. For anyone not actually familiar with Oklahoma: "Surrey with the Fringe on Top"
Author Notes: A big thank you to
wordsofastory, who is not a Glee fan but helped come up with Kurt's catch phrases about the show he finds himself cast in the course of this story.Boston: Following Home | These Thousand Names for Gratitude | All the Honesty of Politics | Circles as the Dark Winds Down | The Distance Between Ohio and Boston | All the Pretty Little Horses | Languages You Don't Even Know | Fauna and Flora | Where Water Doesn't Speak | Under Glass We Are Expected to Blossom | You Were Someone Else Before We Came Here
D.C.: Strategies and Tactics | The Many Shades of Sugar | When Sea Levels Rise | The History of Sand
Two weeks after they get back from the beach, Rachel calls, crying. She's been cast in a tour and so Kurt assumes the tears are happy ones.
They aren't.
“It's children's theater, Kurt. Three months, playing an eight-year-old, driving around with six people in a van. I will, of course, bring excellence and a certain remarkable je ne sais quoi to the role, but I'm going to hate every single minute of it.”
“But it's real professional theater --”
“Of course.”
“And you get to sing.”
“I'm the lead.”
“And your card?”
“Yup.”
“Then congratulations, Rachel,” Kurt says stiffly. “I'm very happy for you.”
*
When Blaine walks through their door that night, Kurt says, without preamble, “Rachel got a tour.”
Blaine's jaw dropping into a grin. “Oh my god.”
Kurt feels terrible that he isn't the same sort of happy for her. “It's children's theater,” he adds, with a vicious little thrill.
Blaine freezes, his whole demeanor shifting and tensing like he's trying not to say something terrible. “Really?”
“She was in tears when she called.”
“Happy tears?”
“Oh no.”
“Oh my,” Blaine says, putting his bag down and cautiously sitting next to Kurt on the couch. “How do you feel about it?” He brushes his fingers through Kurt's hair as he asks.
“I wish I'd been nicer on the phone, but mostly I'm trying not to feel anything at all.”
*
Kurt cannot believe Blaine thinks a combined audition for the Fringe Fest is somehow the answer to Rachel getting her fucking Equity card before he does.
“I just feel like everything I try for is a step back from the previous thing, and I'm still not getting it anyway and I don't even....” He breaks off with a noise of frustration. It's taken him a day to freak out about this, but now that he has, he can't stop.
Blaine resists the urge to tell Kurt to calm down, knowing it won't end well. Instead, he tries “You're so funny,” fondly, which isn't better and is possibly worse.
“Thank you, Blaine. That's an incredibly helpful expression of support,” Kurt snaps.
Blaine sighs. “Just listen to me for a second. You're rational about everything from your dance skills to our --”
“Don't say it; we are not engaged -- ”
“And yet you still want your first job to be on Broadway, and I don't get it. You're already working as a performer; but you have a nearly blank resume, which doesn't, by the way, say “discover me,” to a casting director.”
“Like you would know,” Kurt spits out viciously.
They each reel back from it, Kurt flailing his hands and trying to apologize almost instantly.
“I didn't mean --”
Blaine scratches at the back of his neck for a moment and then holds up his hand. “No, you did. And I can either defend my choices or point out that my resume is still longer than yours, but mostly I want to not fucking fight with you and not have to watch your talent stay hidden because you keep chasing after the wrong things.”
“But what if I want to fight with you?”
“Yeah, well,” Blaine says, levering himself off the couch and yanking off the tie Kurt had looped around that morning. “Me too. But, unlike you, I know I can't always get what I want.” He goes out onto their deck because he made a promise once never to storm out of the house again; it doesn't stop him from slamming the door.
*
That night, Blaine goes to bed early. When Kurt joins him, he slips an arm around his boyfriend's waist, pressing his face into the space between his shoulder blades. Kurt is still terrible at apologies, but this is, for him, what passes as one.
“Here's what you don't understand,” Blaine says covering Kurt's hand on his belly with his own. “When you sing, especially lately, you are terrifying and miraculous. And when I sing, it makes people smile. I'm a good performer, Kurt, but it's not the most important thing I can do. So I need you to stop acting like that's a betrayal.”
“Is that easier to say when you're not looking at me?”
“Yes.”
“Making people smile matters,” Kurt mumbles into Blaine's back, as if he's embarrassed.
“Sure. But not enough.”
“It saved my life.”
Blaine smiles wanly and squeezes Kurt's hand. “I will always sing with you, anywhere and anywhen you want. But that's about you now, and not the world. I need you to start forgiving me for that.”
Kurt doesn't say anything for a long time. “I'm not angry at you,” he says softly.
“Then what happened earlier?”
Kurt rolls onto his back, unsure of how to explain himself. “What's your first language?” he asks, abruptly.
“Kurt –”
“Singing. Singing is my first language. And I always want to think it's yours too, Blaine, so the idea of you giving that up is wrong and creepy and terrifying and makes me think of the worst of this shit with your dad. It's how you speak; it's how you speak to me, and I can't....”
Blaine shushes him, turning over to gather him up. It's so strange, because Kurt isn't only taller than him, but broader across the shoulders despite all his willowy grace; it's been so long since he's crumbled like this. “I'm right here.”
“I just....”
“I know. Just breathe with me for a little bit.”
Eventually, Kurt quiets, the trembling that never quite gets to tears subsiding, and into the dark and silence Blaine says, “It isn't.”
“What?” Kurt asks.
“My first language. Singing. It's not –”
“Then what?”
“Pleasing people,” Blaine says softly, like he's a little bit ashamed. “When I was a baby, I never cried when my parents took me restaurants, apparently. My mother says I never wanted to upset anyone.”
“So well mannered,” Kurt snarks, trying for humor only because he is deeply unnerved.
“Do you think it's possible to worry about disappointing people at six-months-old? I've always thought my father hated it, that I didn't wail to show the world how strong his son was.”
Kurt hugs Blaine tightly. Before they'd met, he would have said no.
*
The hangover from that conversation lasts for two days, until Kurt fucks Blaine in the too early morning hard enough that their headboard actually bangs against the wall, stuttering a laugh out of him even as Kurt's buried inside him.
In the afterglow, Kurt tugs on Blaine's lower lip with his fingers until he convinces him to call in sick to his internship. When he complies, they stay in bed until noon, Kurt finally rolling out from between their filthy sheets to go to the audition he doesn't really care about but that Blaine seems invested in on his behalf.
*
Only a fraction of the shows are anything resembling musicals at all. But after he sings his standard sixteen bars of cheerful Broadway, one of the auditors, and there are a lot of auditors, says, “Okay, now sing something unsettling.”
Kurt stops himself from rolling his eyes, takes a deep breath, and tries to think as little as possible before launching into “Cosmic Love” because Henry and Blaine have both said he should. He's shaking by the time he's done, and on his way to work at the bar calls Alex in Rome and sings it to her softly.
*
“Callback!” Kurt squeals when he gets home that night, waving his phone where the email is still up on his screen at Blaine.
“I knew it!”
“Fine, yes, you are right about everything. Ask me what it is,” Kurt says, vibrating as he practically sings out the words.
“What is it?”
“Musical adaptation of Orpheus and Eurydice! I am going to get this, Blaine, I am so going to get this.”
Blaine gives him a besotted smile, and Kurt wants to point out that this, keeping them both happy, is why his success means everything.
*
At his call-back time, Kurt's the only boy there, and smugly he thinks he's already been cast as Orpheus and is just there to find his Eurydice, until the director pulls him aside. He tells him he's actually being auditioned for Persephone, and assures him that if he does cast him, it won't be a drag role, just Kurt as he is, all shoulders and slim hips, playing a girl once stolen and risen low.
Kurt wants to scream in frustration, and when he and the women he is competing against are asked to improvise first vocally and then with movement, Kurt does not hesitate to invade their space. It is, he knows, probably rude and unprofessional, but it's what he would have done in New Directions, and if he's honest, it feels good, even if only one of them really understands that for all Kurt's barely concealed anger, nothing he's doing is anything but play.
*
He gets the part, announcing it to Blaine when he finds out by calling him at work and saying, “I'm the Queen of Hell!”
“Best interruption to a policy briefing, EVER,” Blaine whispers into his phone in response, slouching in his chair at the back of the room.
*
Blaine's giddy for him, until their celebratory dinner, when he goes off on a tangent about the lack of powerful roles for women in the theater and how it's sort of fucked up that the only person his director thought was powerful enough to play a woman is a man.
Kurt, in response, sets down his glass primly and tries not to smile as he scolds him. “Blaine, I no longer have an empty resume, so this is Not the Time.
Blaine chuckles to himself and nods, and Kurt reaches across the table, taking his hand and squeezing into it a hundred types of love.
*
As rehearsals start, Kurt quickly determines a number of things.
First the show is terrible. Truly awful, in a way that would be hilarious to spork with Blaine if he weren't trapped in the middle of it.
Second, the girl playing Eurydice hates him.
And third, he really, really has to stop his parents from coming to see it, but Blaine seems to be in some sort of conspiracy with them about it, and he just doesn't know how to intercede without making everyone feel bad.
*
“What? Are they making you show your ass?” his father asks when Kurt insists, yet again, that he and Carole, really, really don't need to come out for it.
“Only metaphorically,” Kurt breathes, but it's not enough to deter his father who survived tea parties and New Directions and Pip Pip Hooray, and maybe it won't be so bad.
Blaine tries to reassure him that his single song is good and interesting, and there's a certain charm in being able to say I'm the Queen of Hell, and hey, at least it's not children's theater.
Kurt's more relieved that's it's not a tour. The worst part of being jealous of Rachel means acknowledging that he's willing to leave home. Or worse, wants to. And Blaine needs him so much.
*
“They want me to be in the maenad scene!” Kurt calls as he kicks the front door open, full of disgust two weeks before opening. “I'm the Queen of Hell, why do I have to be in the maenad scene? The maenad scene is awful.”
“I'm sorry,” Blaine says, not knowing what else to do.
“It's not your fault.”
“Somebody died sorry,” Blaine clarifies.
“Oh. Well, that's all right then,” Kurt says and settles himself onto Blaine's lap, willing to be kissed.
*
The show opens in a flurry of false optimism and exhaustion. They are not the hot ticket of the festival and Kurt only sends postcards announcing the performance to a few casting directors in New York who have been moderately interested in him because he knows they won't come see it.
Rachel, pissed at him for not having had time to go up to New York and see her off the week before, sends him a passive-aggressive text message from a three-day stop at a school system in southern New Jersey.
Then Blaine calls an hour-and-a-half before curtain to say that while his parents' plane has arrived safely, their luggage hasn't, and they'll be there as soon as he can.
“Oh my god,” Kurt whispers frantically into the phone. “That's divine. Stall them.”
*
Kurt is jangly before he goes on stage and tries to brace himself for the experience by thinking of Henry's advice to him in email the night before: Screw fitting in to your terrible show. Do what you have to do for you.
Kurt had nodded reading it then, and nods thinking of it now. As he enters, the lights are warm on his face and he thinks of them as a remembrance of the world not off the the stage, but outside the lands of hell. It hurts to think of only being able to rule in dark places.
*
The maenad scene is still terrible, the boy playing Orpheus completely misses a climatic high note, and the severed head special effect provokes barely restrained titters from the audience, but when Kurt steps forward for his solo bow, the audience roars, and it feels real, like more than just Blaine and his father and Carole putting on a brave face for him.
He smiles, and fondly thinks Fuck you, Rachel Berry.
*
They wait in the shitty lobby of the shitty black box theater for Kurt, Blaine holding a giant bouquet of flowers, Burt wringing his hat in his hands and Carole beaming in a way that suggests she's more in touch with the absurdity of it all than any of the men around her.
When Kurt finally comes out, Blaine can tell he's nervous. Part of it is the blush under the faint sheen of glitter that's still high on his cheeks, but mostly it's the body language. He looks smaller, younger, and twists his fingers together in the same manner that Burt is abusing his hat.
“Oh did you guys actually see that?” he asks with an awkward wince as he smoothes a hand over his surprisingly uncooperative hair.
“We did,” Carole assures him.
“I was hoping the plane would be late.”
“You were incredible,” Blaine says, thrusting the flowers at him before gathering Kurt up in a hug that crushes them between their bodies.
Kurt smiles sheepishly at his dad over Blaine's shoulder and then closes his eyes.
“Was I okay?” he whispers to his boyfriend.
“A revelation in a sea of chaos,” Blaine says, before stepping back.
“Dad, hi,” he says, laughing awkwardly then. “Please don't view my aspirations in light of --”
“I have no idea what that was,” Burt says, “but Blaine swears I wasn't supposed to. You were great, kid. Whole audience held its breath. I'm glad I could see it.”
It's this praise, more than any of the rest of it, that convinces Kurt that it really will be okay, and he hugs his father as if he has just returned to the surface of the world.
*
“It's so weird having you here,” Kurt gushes as he shows them around Georgetown, Dupont Circle and the Mall.
His father asks if he is happy when he points out the building with the apartment they couldn't afford on the block he loved.
“I... it's complicated.” Kurt admits, although he tries not to.
“But you and Blaine...,” his father pushes.
“Also hard,” Kurt says, wondering if he should laugh nervously and blush at the accidental double entendre, if that's what it takes to make this conversation he doesn't want to have easier.
“Do you want to talk about it?” Carole asks.
Kurt shakes his head. “I'm struggling a little bit with being here; and he's really ready to be done with school. We'll get through it, and then we'll move to New York and live happily ever after. We've both waited through worse.”
“Ohio,” Burt says, and there's some tinge of anger or guilt there that Kurt can't let himself look at too closely.
“Mmmmmhmmmm,” he agrees with a false, catty and oh so gay smile. “Besides, I love him, and this too will pass. Now where should we eat while I give you two the briefing on the fact that I really, really do work at a bar?”
*
“Best behavior,” Kurt reminds Seanna again, squeezing her shoulders after he sets down drinks for her and Henry, the unavoidable George, and his parents.
“Tell George, not me,” she says.
“You're babysitting,” Kurt says, pointing at her, before dropping his tray at the bar and trotting up to the mic.
“Now,” he declares, “if anyone was looking for something dark and moody from me today? You're out of luck. My parents are here, and I'm busy being the Queen of Hell over at the Fringe, so light and airy's all I got in me right now. Can we survive that?”
The late-afternoon crowd makes some obligatory noises of agreement, spurred on by his friends and Carole.
“Fabulous,” Kurt says, and launches into “Surry with the Fringe on Top.”
“Sometimes, it's almost weird hearing him sing boy songs,” Burt notes.
“Oh, you haven't heard weird until you hear Blaine's song choices,” Henry says.
Burt laughs. “Oh, I know all about Blaine's terrible song choices. Did he ever tell you what he did to the boy he was chasing before Kurt?”
*
Sometime after seven, Blaine comes bounding into the bar from his internship, waving to Kurt, kissing Carole on the cheek, and slapping a several pieces of paper down in the center of their table.
“Reviews!” he says, giddy.
“Wait,” George drawls. “Kurt said we weren't allowed to come see the show because it's embarrassingly terrible, but you're allowed to bring reviews? I feel confusion and the need for more gin.”
“The show is terrible, but Kurt is amazing and the reviews agree,” Blaine says, slightly breathless.
“Wait, were you just totally at work late because you were vanity Googling your boyfriend?” Seanna asks.
“No, I have an alert set up.”
“Because that isn't creepy,” Henry says under his breath.
“Don't start,” Blaine says, pointing at him.
Henry holds his hands up in mock defense. “If Lizzy doesn't care, I certainly don't.”
“Lizzy?” Burt mouths to Carole, who just pats him on the arm.
*
“'While I kept waiting, in vain it turns out, for this theatrical atrocity to descend to a level of kitsch that could at least provide some Rocky Horror-esque joy, there was one bright spot: Kurt Hummel in a brief, and admittedly inexplicable, turn as Persephone. With a remarkable range and a stage presence that's both terrifying and oddly vulnerable, Hummel graces the show with its only moments not only of adequacy, but of transcendence,'” Blaine reads once Kurt has a moment to stop by their table.
“Oh my god,” he says, and drops into a chair.
“Wait, wait, you have to hear the other one,” Blaine says, still giddy.
“They're all going to hate me,” Kurt wails.
“What?”
“Everyone in the show! How am I going to face them? Oh my god.”
Blaine doesn't know what to say, and so continues onto the next review. “'If you did buy the all show pass, however, you may want to sit through these 102 minutes of horror if only to experience seven minutes in heaven from Kurt Hummel as Persephone. He sounds like a late-80s Sinead O'Connor filtered through the golden age of Broadway.'”
“I don't even know what that means,” Kurt moans. “And I could have done without the closet make-out game reference. How is this even happening?” He grabs the printouts from Blaine. “How are these real?”
“Do you need a drink?” George asks.
Kurt rolls his eyes. “George?”
“Yes?”
“Shut up.”
“Look, can we come see the show now?” Seanna asks.
“Yes, I guess, I mean... it'll be good to have a house at least,” he says to her before turning to Blaine. “What the fuck do I do?”
“Pretend you haven't seen them; talk about how grateful you are for the opportunity if it comes up; make sure everyone you've ever auditioned for in New York knows.”
“Okay,” he says taking a deep breath. “Okay. I can do this. And I'm at work, and we don't have another show for two days, and there's nothing I can do about it now anyway.”
Blaine nods at him and takes his hand. “Exactly.”
Kurt grabs his face and kisses him hard. “I love you,” he murmurs against his boyfriend's lips. “I couldn't do this without you.”
“You don't have to,” Blaine says softly. “Go sling drinks.”
“Okay.”
“We can do a duet later, if you want?”
Kurt closes his eyes and nods. “Yeah. Good. Thank you,” he says and then he's gone.
Burt gives him an appraising look. “You sure know how to make an entrance, Blaine.”
*
After Kurt's shift, Blaine takes Burt, Carole and him to a late dinner. He orders a bottle of wine, which Kurt feels awkward about in the face of working in a bar, George's drinking, and every uncomfortable dinner he's ever had with Blaine's parents.
But when Blaine raises his glass to him, pausing long enough before he speaks for Kurt's eyes to flit around the low-lit room, it allow him to pretend they are in New York, having dinner while he's jubilantly sweaty and miserable after a show. He shivers.
“Someone walk over your grave?” Carole asks.
Kurt shakes his head and laughs, even though it's a superstition he hates.
“No,” he says, feeling around for words for the sensation. “Maybe someone just walked under my marquee.”
*
“I noticed you haven't paged Rachel, yet,” Blaine says, after they've dropped Burt and Carole off at their hotel and are strolling hand in hand towards the metro.
Kurt shrugs. “It didn't seem important.”
“I thought it was going to.”
“She has her ordeal. I have mine.”
Blaine squeezes his hand. “You should listen to the song I think they were referencing.”
“You know I'm worried if it's in your music collection, right?”
Blaine laughs. “I used to listen to her stuff all the time, before I met you, before Dalton. Lots of want and fear.”
“How'd you find it?”
“I don't even remember anymore.”
Kurt smiles and swings their clasped hands. “These next two years are going to be unbearable,” he says, his voice oddly light.
“It'll be fine,” Blaine says with a chuckle. “Just pretend you're Persephone.”
--
Next: A Little Bit Ruined
![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
no subject
Date: 2011-09-12 10:04 pm (UTC)<3
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Date: 2011-09-12 10:05 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2011-09-12 10:13 pm (UTC)And Kurt -- how he manages to act snippy and jealous and then go home and take the piss out of her. Oh, Kurt.
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Date: 2011-09-13 03:03 am (UTC)Kurt's having a really hard time right now. I think he can get used to a given situation with anything, but whenever there's change afoot, even positive change, he starts flipping out because it's not enough or not right. Writing this chapter was actually the first time I actively wondered if he's clinically depressed, and I'm not quite sure yet (Blaine definitely is, but his level of coping has changed now that the situation with his dad has let up).
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Date: 2011-09-12 10:14 pm (UTC)And a hilariously awful one at that! PERFECT! Considering the only Fringe show I saw this season was the modern musical lesbian version of Romeo and Juliet, it is highly appropriate!
"I'm the Queen of Hell" I can so hear Kurt saying that in his Bitch Please voice!
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Date: 2011-09-13 03:04 am (UTC)Fringe, anywhere, anywhen, can be pretty dire. Patty and I howled for hours coming up with the crappy show. We've been saying "I'm the Queen of Hell!" to each other for daaaaaaays. So glad it worked for you!
(no subject)
From:no subject
Date: 2011-09-12 10:18 pm (UTC)And 'ordeal', in this context, is more than gorgeous, it's exquisite.
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Date: 2011-09-13 03:05 am (UTC)They're not that young anymore! 23/24. If you're not careful, soon you'll be reading about these Glee kids who are older than you!
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Date: 2011-09-12 10:31 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2011-09-13 03:06 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2011-09-12 10:32 pm (UTC)I love the idea of Kurt as Persephone. I've been sketching out a sort of take on the Greek Underworld ever since 'Some People.' There was just something about the way he looked in so many moments of that scene that screamed for it (to me), and I'm still hoping that I can eventually make it work.
(Moment of creeper-dom: I've become quite a fan of your blog. I don't follow many these days, but I've enjoyed everything I've seen on yours.)
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Date: 2011-09-13 03:07 am (UTC)And totally not creepy -- I mean, I sort of let all my different online identities touch, although that has it's moments of what the fuck am I doing?
I will look very, very forward to your fic if you bring it out.
(no subject)
From:no subject
Date: 2011-09-12 10:35 pm (UTC)I mean, the whole series is beautiful and so so real and poignant, and I love how each piece further develops their relationship, but here are some specific reasons why this section is awesome:
- Rachel's reaction to the children's theater tour and Kurt's reaction to her
- the way you drop "the card" in there without obviously stating from the get-go that you're referring to an Equity card
- the reference to Blaine never storming out of the house again; the slamming of the door
- Kurt's "apology" in face-between-shoulder-blade form
- the word "anywhen"
- the whole first language metaphor
- the language of Kurt fucking Blaine in the too early morning
- this sentence: "As he enters, the lights are warm on his face and he thinks of them as a remembrance of the world not off the the stage, but outside the lands of hell. It hurts to think of only being able to rule in dark places."
- the audience roaring for Kurt and then later the (voice of the) review(er)s -- I want his success so badly too!
- Kurt twisting his fingers and Burt abusing his hat
- Kurt's false, catty smile when he changes the subject around Burt and Carole (and in this section in general, Kurt's catty, catty self)
- “Wait, were you just totally at work late because you were vanity Googling your boyfriend?”
Looking forward to the next installment, when it comes. Maybe the wait will finally send me back to review the other sections… :)
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Date: 2011-09-13 03:09 am (UTC)I'm glad the Equity card thing read. Because normal human speech demanded it not be explained there, but I wasn't sure it would make any sense. I sort of had to rely on this fandom's obsession with how the industry works.
You picked out some of my favorite things, so it was a real treat getting to see this again through your eyes. Thank you!
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Date: 2011-09-12 10:36 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2011-09-13 03:10 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2011-09-12 10:42 pm (UTC)<3 I really love this.
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Date: 2011-09-12 10:44 pm (UTC)(no subject)
From:no subject
Date: 2011-09-12 10:45 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2011-09-13 03:13 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2011-09-12 10:47 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2011-09-13 03:13 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2011-09-12 10:50 pm (UTC)This is so good.
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Date: 2011-09-13 03:13 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2011-09-12 10:59 pm (UTC)Love Burt's reaction to Kurt's nickname - lizzy - too. Just funny.
Thanks for writing and updating!
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Date: 2011-09-13 03:15 am (UTC)I'm interested that you touched on that moment with Burt and on the "Lizzy" thing as it originally had this bigger idea behind it that ultimately didn't fit. I'm hoping I'll have room for it later, but it may just wind up as a side note "extra".
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Date: 2011-09-12 11:10 pm (UTC)The implicit link between New York and Mount Olympus, where Kurt's muses and gods reside but also a chance at immortality, is so perfect - and the juxtaposition between there and DC as the Underworld, smaller and gloomy in comparison to what Kurt knows is waiting for him fits well. I've never visited New York, but my main remembrance of DC was that it was much smaller than I expected, with government departments squatting around the centre of the city. Arlington Cemetary and the Lincoln Memorial's prominent space in the city also invoke the Underworld's purpose wholly. Blaine could even be seen to hold paralells to Haides; Blaine's strong sense of justice and fairness, for example, link to Haides' insistence on proper burials and respecting the dead, while his defense of Olympus with his brothers against the Titans in Hesiod's Theogony could even hark back to Kurt and Blaine's experiences in McKinley with Karofsky and the rest of the football team.
In my mind I also ended up linking Rachel to Dionysus, weirdly enough, as he had to travel across Greece and Asia Minor with his followers to spread his godhead and gain his place with the gods. Dionysus' Maenads were said in myth to be like children when they were left undisturbed, after all! Dionysus' struggle to persuade people of his deity could easily be paralleled to Rachel's constant auditioning, as well as his relationship to the theatre and his constant transformations and love of performance. Rachel's departure from New York, after all, was not so much of a self-imposed banishment as Persphone's mistake with the pomegranate seeds and therefore Kurt's loyalty to Blaine, which led him to stay in DC in the first place.
I am going to stop typing now before I bore you half to death, but thank you for writing such an amazing series, and I look forward to reading the next installment!
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Date: 2011-09-13 01:18 am (UTC)Obviously, I was going for some of those things, but tons of them never even crossed my mind (a few might have shown up unconsciously, but some of that I didn't know at all) -- like the Rachel stuff!
I also have one more for you -- at the end when Blaine is telling Kurt to be Persephone and says, "I don't even remember anymore." -- that was intended as a Lethe reference and a way to talk about their amazing codependency -- Blaine can tell Kurt to be Persephone because he has already been under her (his) jurisdiction and forgotten whatever he was before (how he found a song he used to listen to before he met Kurt).
I kept thinking "No one is going to see this, and I'm going to have no reason to talk about it" and then you showed up with more awesome than I even knew how to create.
Thank you again! You are awesome.
(no subject)
From:no subject
Date: 2011-09-12 11:26 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2011-09-13 03:16 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2011-09-12 11:38 pm (UTC)Hahahaha! I love imagining Burt's vicarious enjoyment of telling that particular tale.
And you got such great use of out Kurt whipping out the "I'm the queen of hell" line; I cackled every time.
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Date: 2011-09-13 03:18 am (UTC)Burt had to hear that shit from a bitter, teary Kurt when it happened and he has savored it at every stage of his relationship with Blaine -- from mistrust, to acceptance, to his sort of son-in-law status. It's Burt's FAVORITE story to tell about him, because it jabs at him fondly and also serves to play the parental "yeah, I know you kids have sex, bet you're too embarrassed to have it now" card.
We keep saying "I'm the queen of hell!" around the house now, so it's sort of irresistible. Kurt may not give it up.
no subject
Date: 2011-09-12 11:39 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2011-09-13 01:46 am (UTC)That was my first audition when I got back from Australia. And the interview afterwards was so surreal. It's never left my mind. I think I was saved, in part, by not knowing how to drive.
(no subject)
From:(no subject)
From:(no subject)
From:no subject
Date: 2011-09-12 11:43 pm (UTC)i wish i was that kurt and had his blaine. not the other way, i doubt i'd be able to understand kurt, to decipher his emotions, everything.
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Date: 2011-09-13 03:19 am (UTC)I think while Kurt is the one coping more poorly at the moment, Blaine definitely has the harder road to hoe, now just because he is a bit more needy (or aware of being needy) than Kurt, but because Kurt is huge and cryptic and exhausting and demands lots of input.
I think Blaine is really blessed in Kurt, but it's the sort of blessing that if one understands the shape of it, one doesn't necessarily want.
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Date: 2011-09-12 11:51 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2011-09-13 03:20 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2011-09-12 11:53 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2011-09-13 03:20 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2011-09-12 11:55 pm (UTC)This has managed to evoke so much in me. Dreams I've cast off, the feeling of that moment in the spotlight where your voice is the only thing to hold the audience's attention...
I wonder why I gave it up.
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Date: 2011-09-13 03:21 am (UTC)I think it's easy to walk away from because it's hard, and because we're often told we should. ONe of the things I love about Glee, and extrapolating on Glee, is the degree to which all these kids are like "fuck that." Even Blaine here in his own way.
(no subject)
From:no subject
Date: 2011-09-13 12:49 am (UTC)This made my rather difficult day better.
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Date: 2011-09-13 02:10 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2011-09-13 01:23 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2011-09-13 01:55 am (UTC)(no subject)
From:no subject
Date: 2011-09-13 01:47 am (UTC)I worry for Kurt, because he seems to think that being in New York is what will make everything perfect and wow, I doubt that! Also he seems to think that Blaine needs him to survive, but Kurt needs Blaine just as much. Very interesting dynamic.
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Date: 2011-09-13 01:54 am (UTC)I'm worried about Kurt too. There was this trapped, panicky feeling to him for this whole story that surprised me when writing it. Just when I think he's better, there's this brittleness and depression lurking, and I think, at a given point, this may be something he has to look at as something other than situational or a thing he thinks he's going to grow out of. But I don't know yet; the character hasn't told me. But there were a lot of scary moments in this fic for the both of them.
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Date: 2011-09-13 02:14 am (UTC)The fight was painful, but I think some things came out that needed to be said.
unlike you, I know I can't always get what I want.
Ouch. Um, Blaine, Kurt knows that pretty well, so – low blow. But possibly a needed reminder. Complicated moment is complicated. And my brain is as frazzled as my writing right now, so don't expect coherence...
“Singing. Singing is my first language. And I always want think its yours too, Blaine, so the idea of you giving that up is wrong and creepy and terrifying and makes me think of the worst of this shit with your dad. It's how you speak; it's how you speak to me, and I can't....”
Ouch. This is...yeah, very true. Singing isn’t Blaine’s first language, but it’s the only way Kurt can express some things, at least partly because it’s the only way he was ever allowed to express them growing up. And the ‘pleasing people’ thing...I’m glad Blaine is starting to recognise that, because it will help.
I am also glad Kurt trusted Henry and Blaine and sang ‘Cosmic Love’ for the auditors, and I’m extra glad it worked. The Persephone thing...yeah, double-edged sword. Bitter and yet fitting in with the things that Kurt has done before very neatly. And the resonance with his story here in DC, and the way that this may end up opening doors for him, Persephone rising into the world again...I kind of love that. And his anger makes sense here too – Persephone in the underworld is the Queen of Witches, identified with Hecate, often portrayed in Medieval art as a crone aqnd also as a girl. All the ambiguities. It fits so painfully well.
Completely feel for him about not wanting his family to see it, though. Poor embarrassed love.
And I appreciate Henry’s email so much. Just what Kurt needed to hear right then, because that’s always been his solution to everything (cf ‘Le Jazz Hot!’ etc).
It hurts to think of only being able to rule in dark places.
I’m in a sniffly place right now for other reasons, but this... ~sniffles mightily, hugs Kurt some more~ The audience reaction helped, though. And nervous Kurt afterwards was adorable and heartbreaking all at once. Love Burt’s response – that thing they always have, of not entirely understanding each other, but working out how to connect despite it. Burt as Demeter is love.
the unavoidable George
Hee. I was wondering how long Kurt’s patience with George would last. Apparently not long!
And the reviews. I love them. Kurt’s earned them. And I love and adore Blaine for bringing them. Even if this – having Kurt get sort-of what he wants in a way that doesn’t demand any adjustments from him – is easier on Blaine right now. And the duet offer, calling back to their argument, resolving it sort of...that was so sweet.
The last line just about killed me.
I’m sorry, I don’t have much more right now, I am wrung-out personally from a death in the family, but I love this bittersweet thing so much. And yes, Kurt is so Persephone, rising into the light.
Not sure if Blaine is Hades or Hermes, though. I think Hermes. I hope. I trust. At any rate, I know he wants to be.
no subject
Date: 2011-09-13 03:32 am (UTC)That fight was really bad. I wrote that, and was surprised when it came out and it was like that, and then sat on it for a week, because I was like "what the fuck?" It's awful. Blaine totally gets some low blows in there and so does Kurt (although Kurt's afraid, Blaine's trying for a hit, and I agree, it comes off worse).
Kurt's really struggling in this piece, despite that things are moving for him. Blaine feels far away; his dreams feel impossible; everything is about how he's weird and not good enough and not like the eight billion random attractive gay guys who sing and want to be on Broadway. Even as Kurt at this age reads more masculinely, is more comfortable in being who and what he is, his voice, now that it's trained, now that he's exploring what else it can do, is setting him even farther apart from people than it used to, and it's just hard.
As I've said to others in other comments, I really am starting to think he has clinical depression that isn't particularly situational (Blaine has had his moments, but when shit with his dad isn't bearing down on him, he can manage); but I'm not sure yet. I'm not sure where it's going to go, how bad it is, what Kurt needs, what, if anything he'll do about it.
Oh George. Vaguely amusing until you're in front of your parents and you realize he's just a drunk.
I hadn't made the conscious connection of Blaine to Hermes, but it's all so obvious now (Hermes is my favorite; I was Hermes for like a bazillion Halloweens as a kid). Thank you!
There's a great comment further up talking more about the mythology angle. I intentionally put a Lethe reference in that little section at the end, when Blaine says he can't remember how he heard of a song about longing that he listened to before he met Kurt (Persephone). It was a nod to the sort of weird dark codependency that lurks under some of their romance.
Take care of yourself.
(no subject)
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