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29 October 2011 @ 01:46 am
Mini-hiatus Exchange fic: Haunted by the Broken Record (Part One)  
Title: Haunted By The Broken Record (Part One)
Rating: R
Word Count: 5,629 (this part) / 12,661 (In total)
Recipient: silverdragon87
Summary: Once in awhile things make sense. A lot of times, they don't. Blaine Anderson and Kurt Hummel lose and find one another once again; this time under the California sunset.
Prompt(s) Used: Blaine-centric heavy, heavy Klaine makeout. So much kissing and touching, could lead to a little more.
Author's Note: I don't think this is at ALL what you were thinking when you wrote that prompt, and I'm sorry my makeout session wasn't as sexy as it could've been. It's just never been my forte. I started writing - and this is what happened. I hope you like it anyway.


It all starts with a beach and the tide and the sunset. Blaine Anderson – he’s twenty and he’s forgotten the beauty of the world sometimes. He stands as it gets dark, alone and silent, daylight slipping through his fingers as quickly as the sand under his toes.

Blocks away, there’s screeching tires and a fender bender on Santa Monica Boulevard. On the 405, there’s bumper to bumper traffic, dense and seemingly never ending. In the valley, a reality television star waltzes down Ventura Boulevard oblivious to the paparazzi floating around her.

Where Blaine Anderson stands, though, he hears nothing but the waves hitting the California shoreline, sees nothing but the setting sun, thinks of nothing but how heavy his heart is.

--

There was a time when he was loved by the loveliest, most compassionate boy in the world. Sometimes he closes his eyes and feels Kurt Hummel there, fingertips still brushing his under the lunchroom table, eyes still dancing as he smiles at him across the room. Sometimes he lies awake and curls into the space on the right side of the bed; the side where Kurt would lay. Sometimes he imagines what Kurt would say about him now, looking up at him under lowered eyelashes, voice sweet and full of snark.

His last memory of Kurt is from standing on the A platform in New York City, bag slung over his shoulder and Kurt not meeting his eyes. Around them, New York breathed and lived – tourists and commuters abound, all having no clue that Blaine’s life is shattering around him.

Later, Blaine will remember how Kurt leaned in to kiss him on the cheek, eyes shining with tears. He’ll remember blinking back at him, shocked. He’ll remember that he vaguely agreed it was mutual and that’s what he tells his friends and yet it was never mutual to him, not at all.  He’ll remember leaving Kurt on that platform, standing alone and out amongst the drab colors of a New York winter, looking like an angel in his white jacket and royal blue scarf.

He remembers staring at him through the gritty, dirty subway train’s windows, watching Kurt’s eyes empty out and hollow, looking much like the Kurt Hummel he’d met his sophomore year at Dalton. He watches until he can’t anymore – the train taking him away from midtown, eventually – New York, from Kurt.

---

Blaine chooses Los Angeles because it’s far far away.

The schools are good too, of course. UCLA’s campus is vast and in a great neighborhood, tucked next to and around Brentwood and Westwood, right near a beautiful area with lots of shopping and things to do. College kids and wealthy teenagers native to LA linger and plague the town like locusts and Blaine likes it because he falls in with the crowd, is just another kid.

When he’s tired of the classes and his roommates, he steals away to Sherman Oaks or Hollywood or Silver Lake – all depending on how he feels, really, and sits in over-priced coffee shops to regroup and remind himself who he is.

He loses touch with the kids from McKinley quicker than he’d anticipated, really. Where there was once wall postings and facebook chats and the occasional email there now was just a few birthday greetings and by November he actually has to think twice to remember what Puck’s first name really was.

He and Kurt aren’t facebook friends anymore, but there are days when he’s lonely enough to click through Rachel’s photos because they’re together in New York, as they’d always planned. When he’s feeling really pathetic, he imagines it’s him that Kurt has his arm slung over in whatever group photo he’s looking at; imagines it’s him that’s making him smile.

These days it's rare, though, to feel this way. He's not as pathetic as he seems. There are days, weeks even, when Kurt's nothing but a semi-fond memory and a photo in a scrapbook under his bed. Sometimes he appears when Blaine's dressing in the morning, criticizing Blaine's outfit as he gets ready for his day. Sometimes he'll be in someone who shares his class; a boy who tilts his head a certain way or talks with the familiar lilt.

Most often though, he's a memory. He's a familiar essence and a first love and Blaine misses him fiercely sometimes because Kurt was more than his boyfriend, he was his best friend. He misses his snark and his opinions and his singing but he's hardly the first best friend Blaine's lost.

High school - it's a bittersweet conglomerate of sewn together memories; singing in the choir room at the top of his lungs, unabashedly climbing across furniture in the senior commons with the Warblers. It's hugs and cuddling with Kurt under the covers on a snow day and running with Finn on Sunday mornings and watching Kurt help his mother pick that very perfect dress for her twentieth high school reunion. It's curling up on Kurt's bed studying for the SATs while Kurt writes his college entrance letters, and learning to play guitar by Puck's hand. It's positive and sad and some bittersweet moments, all condensed into flipbook images that Blaine's burying and losing behind new memories and friends and experiences.

He meets Davy in November of his first year, still adorning short sleeves in the days where his mother is complaining about the bitter chill that's already overtaken Ohio. He's in his Music Adaptation class and there's a boy with a crooked smile and bright eyes who's just as small as Blaine but wider in the shoulders. Davy's an artist, fingers smudged with charcoal and eyes seeing beauty in things Blaine would've never seen. He's a lot of personality and a lot of energy and he takes to Blaine like he's a long lost brother, introducing him right away to his group of friends and being his guide to Los Angeles proper. It starts off as a crush in a way that Blaine didn't even know it was a crush - since he hasn't had one for so long, of course. The last one had been Jeremiah, which was really just misaligned puppy love and then there was Kurt - who had always been more than a crush - so, so much more. By the time Blaine had truly realized his feelings they were too big, to consuming, to be called a crush. Kurt was an enigma. He was his heart.

But Davy, he's a crush, because Blaine blushes when Davy smiles at him or cracks a joke at his expense or grabs his elbow to lead him through the crowd. He flirts with everything and everyone and Blaine knows it's a mess before it even begins but he lets Davy kiss him at his first proper college party down on the beach sometime in December, lets him press him into the sand and slide cold damp fingers up his shirt. They make out away from the bon fire and Blaine's afraid to touch even though Davy certainly isn't and by the time Davy's got a hand on Blaine's fly Blaine presses away and away and away, rolls in the opposite direction of Davy's wandering hands and confused gaze and he just can't.

Davy - he's disappointed - Blaine can tell by the down-turn of his lips and the obvious annoyance in his eyes but Blaine can't give this to Davy, not yet. He's only ever known Kurt's hands on him, and while he knows he needs to get over that eventually - well, it's not going to be then, not in that moment, drunk and disorderly with people he's not quite sure are his friends only feet away at the bonfire.

In the end, he makes the right choice. Through slurred words, Davy admits he's not up for a relationship, not looking for anything serious. Blaine - he's not quite up for anything, not really, even though he'd appreciated feeling wanted and having someone's lips on his again. Davy's a good guy, but he likes his options. He likes the taste of people's words on his lips and motivating others to want him. It's his schtick. By the time they all pack up to go, Davy's got his arm looped around Macie's shoulders, head ducked own to whisper low in her ear, to press his lips against the gentle slope of her throat.

Blaine doesn't regret kissing Davy in the sand that night, but he also doesn't regret pulling away.

---

College is about finding yourself and growing and evolving and Blaine's always been stupidly moldable and kind of a pushover. He's inspired by human beings and art and voices and people who use all of those things to get what they want. He's drawn to the loud mouths and the outspoken and he latches onto them so he can emulate and branch forwards. It's always been how he is and it's always something he both loves and loathes about himself. It's hard to figure out who you are when you're so concerned about what and who everyone else is.

California on its' own is a living breathing diatribe and collection of people; tall people and short people and skinny people and people who don't care how they look because it's cool to do so and people who don't care how they look because they don't know anything else. Blaine's personal style and taste tends to evolve depending on who he's with. At Dalton, he was surrounded by quiet, serious studious boys who wore ties and mute colors and loafers even outside of school. Spending nearly 24/7 with Kurt opened him up to the reality and possibility of colors and bowties and being dressed up without necessarily being so serious about it. He liked both looks, still owns a drawer full of bowties and sweatervests and boat shoes.

California, though, California is on one end all sleek straight lines, fast and shiny cars, modern square houses with large wide windows, and on the other it's fast and loose, bright colorful, easygoing and lax, unbrushed hair and battered sneakers and half-tucked shirts. Blaine's enamored with both sides, watching the men in their perfect suits as they drive to work in their black BMWs, while also seeing twenty-somethings in v-neck stretched out neon colored tees and brightly colored RayBans.

He evolves, because he's always evolved, and by the end of freshman year he's taken to unbuttoning his button up shirts just a bit and rolling up his sleeves past his elbows.

It's mid-May, among cramming for finals and finding an internship with housing that will allow him to stay in LA for the summer that he meets Roxie and Miller, the Williamson twins who are not family by blood but also straight out of a Hardy Boys book - if the Hardy Boys were a boy and girl, anyway. Roxie stands at a slight, tiny 4'11" ("Nearly legally a small person," She boasts, crowding into Blaine's space. He'll learn that she does that to everyone; he's not special. She's just easily lost so she attaches herself to the nearest familiar person, "I used to hate it. Now – I've just realized I see the world at a very different perspective.”) while Miller (her older brother by four whole minutes) is tall and lanky and the exact opposite of Roxie in a million ways. They're best friends, though, and with them come a mish-mosh hodge-podge of people including Wayne, the aspiring actor and Kate, the pre-med student who does performance art on the street corner in her spare time. The only thing that they all have in common was that Roxie handpicked them from thin air, dislodging them from other groups and declaring they "need to hang out with us, right now!".

Blaine's immediately thrown by the sheer amount of energy and attitude that comes from someone like Roxie, someone who literally doesn't care about what other people think of her. She's wild and outspoken and fun, and Blaine can't stop laughing the first time he and the others hang out at his favorite little coffee shop in Silver Lake.

He ends up getting an internship at Warner Brothers that summer, but instead of provided housing, he, the Williamson twins and Wayne shack up in a little beach house in Venice. It has one bedroom and one bathroom and it's nowhere near Warner Brothers but it means the beach and the sun and lots and lots of ridiculous memories to be made.

Blaine turns in the preppy clothes about the same time as Wayne starts smoking pot every other day, because he feels silly wearing pressed shorts and spotless Sperry's when the people he sees frequently on the boardwalk sometimes barely have clothes on. By the time Roxie starts dragging him down to busk amongst the tourists and vendors his favorite rolled up pants have a paint stain on them and he's wearing whatever interesting tee-shirt he'd found at the Buffalo Exchange when he and Miller had gone on a shopping spree. It's got a tiny hole in the neckline and a print of some middle school in Nebraska on the front but it's loose and comfortable and he likes it because it's easy and this summer is about easy.

Everyday he climbs into his car and treks across the city to Burbank where he works as an producer's intern for a television show he's never watched before, for an internship he's not quite sure he wants. He goes to school for literature and and minors in media but Los Angeles is drenched in the entertainment industry. He'd started looking, initially, for jobs that would push him into the world of books; but it was easy to put back up applications in to work for the major studio systems, and though he was offered two different internships in two very different fields, it's Warner Brothers that wins out. He drives onto the lot at 9:35AM every other morning and spends his days either biking around the lot or driving golf carts to and fro, a glorified paper pusher, really, but he likes it - likes it much more than he thought he would. It's a creative position, even if it's on the lowest rung of the ladder, and his boss is friendly and open and takes a liking to him immediately, insistent on hearing Blaine's ideas and giving him responsibilities to let him know he really does trust and believe in him. The other interns sort of hate him for it, he knows, but he can't let it get him down. Even if he has no interest in working for the entertainment industry when he's done with school he appreciates the opportunity, loves that he had gotten the chance to live it and see it and understand it. He sees celebrities and gets to go to see Conan tape three different times and it gives him a different perspective on a world that's been publicized as one with nothing but money hungry, greedy starlets.

It's nothing like Entourage, he learns, not really at all.

---

For awhile he'd forgotten the sound of his own voice.

He'd quit Glee club in the middle of his senior year at McKinley after he and Kurt break up. In retrospect he knows it was a rather dramatic and slightly unwarranted move, but at the time he felt it was necessary. It all reminds him of Kurt too much and he was sick and tired of Mr. Schue and although he was friendly with Artie and Tina he wasn't really connected with any of the new kids. He finished out his year with only a handful of people that he really called friends and didn't regret leaving New Directions, especially when he heard from Artie in their math class the week after Nationals that Kurt and Finn and Rachel had shown up at the finals (where they'd placed 3rd) in Philadelphia.

At that point he was still being mopey about it, was still bitter towards Kurt. There were still four text messages saved in his phone from Kurt - two from before their break up (one says, 'talk to you later :)' and the other has just simply '<33') and two from after ('Blaine, I feel terrible i talked to you about this when you were leaving, please call me' and the other, 'i miss u', which Blaine assumes was a drunken text because he received it at 3:30AM on a Friday evening two months after they broke up and Kurt never, ever used 'u' instead of 'you'.). He knew he wouldn't have been able to see Kurt without being overly dramatic and throwing a tantrum.

Instead, Blaine concentrated on music in other forms. He worked on playing the guitar and perfected his piano skills and banged on his dashboard along with the radio. He started going to cheap shows with David and Wes during the summer before he headed to California, miles and miles put forward to Columbus and Cincinatti to watch obscure musicians play in small dinky clubs that didn't ID. They tinkered with the idea of starting a band in July with Wes on the bass and David on the drums and Blaine on the guitar and keys and all three of them trading vocal responsibilities but it never got past the idea phase, and by the time Blaine's packed his car to drive to LA, it's a forgotten pursuit.

For the ride to California, one that Wes will make with him part of the way because he goes to school in Colorado, David made them a sixty song playlist separated by genre, mood and tone.

Blaine sang along on the top of his lungs to the songs he knews and the ones he only knew parts of the lyrics to. When Blackbird turns up, Wes peered hesitantly over to him from his spot in the passenger seat. Blaine just turned the volume up and listened as they drove along the flat plains of Colorado, the signs for Denver declaring only 257 miles to go.



Roxie is cold all of the time because she's tiny and unproportioned and that usually means she's in someone's personal space. Blaine's gotten used to her being tucked up under his shoulder, a tiny, insignificant weight against his side. She finds he and Kurt's junior prom picture tucked into a copy of A Tree Grows in Brooklyn that he has during one of those days. It'd once belonged to Kurt but had gotten lost in the shuffle – Kurt’s name is still written on the inside cover in loopy semi-childish handwriting.

The book is Blaine's favorite, but it was Kurt who'd introduced him to it. It's bittersweet for him now but he still longs for the stories of Francie Nolan and her favorite pasttime of reading books with mint starlight candies on the fire escape in Brooklyn.

“Is this him?” Roxie asks, as she picks up the photo to scrutinize the nearly unfamiliar faces staring back at them. Blaine lets her settle further against him and stares at the image of the two of them, trying to remember who those boys were.

“Is that who?” He feigns ignorance, and when she peers up at him with disbelieving eyes, he at least has the decency to look a little sheepish.

“Kurt, the guy you'd told Miller was your high school boyfriend.”

“Yeah,” He finally replies. She's quiet for a few long, tense moments. It's unlike her; she's usually vibrating with energy even when she's sitting quietly. From where he's sitting he can see her bright green eyes flickering over the photo, a perfectly painted fingernail coming up to brush gently over the smiling faces.

“You're both so handsome,” She says, looking up at him with a wan smile, “But so, so young.”

He nods, because that's so so true. He was fifteen when that photo was taken, just shy of his sixteenth birthday. It was nearly four years ago. He still has his flower pressed in an old leather journal in his bedroom at home. He can still remember Kurt's salty kisses after the dance, so bittersweet and painful and utterly beautiful.

“It's amazing how much things change, isn't it?” She continues softly, pressing the picture back into the book, “It's amazing how things move forward and sometimes not at all.”

Blaine's only known Roxie for three months. There's so much he's still learning about her; so much he doesn't know. At the same time there's so much he does, so much he loves – so much that is difficult. It's strange, though, that she seems to be able to see right through him so easily, sometimes. It's unsettling.

“Yeah,” He replies, because he honestly has no idea what else to say.



Sophomore year has him returning to the dorms and missing the beach house in Venice and turning up in his first class not looking at all like the boy who'd showed up for his first day at UCLA in the fall prior. He's tanner, for one thing, and he's also now always has someone walking with him to and from class. He's rooming with Wayne who's so much of an actor that he's more often than not even in the room because he's off doing – actor-y things with his classmates. Miller starts dating Kate, the pre-med student who also does performance art on the weekends about two weeks in and they're practically attached at the face. It's just Roxie and Blaine for awhile until Roxie turns up one day with a boy named Ryan who's a photographer.

Blaine watches, that very first day, as Roxie is stolen right from beside him. Ryan's exactly the kind of boy Roxie likes – tall and dark and oddly mysterious, he's inspired by her and she's suddenly his muse. Blaine doesn't hold a candle to him, not when Ryan looks at her like that, when he can offer comfort and emotions and love in a way Blaine simply cannot.

He sees her still; often. They're still best friends. He still circulates through Miller and Roxie and Wayne and he really does like Ryan, but it's easy to feel like the odd man out.

By the time winter break rolls around Blaine’s content honestly, even if he finds himself alone more often than he used to. He still goes to parties with his friends and they still eat meals together, but they pair off more often than not. It reminds him of high school, when he’d go out to dinner with Kurt and Rachel and Finn and Mercedes and Shane and then Puck or Artie or, before she and Santana were official, Brittany. This time, though, he’s on the outside looking in instead of the other way around.

So he throws himself into his music and busks in Westwood Village until the little shop owners chase him away. He sneaks away with Roxie to Diddy Rieses’ to get fresh chocolate chip and oatmeal raisin cookies (and if he’s particularly indulgent, an ice cream sandwich) and goes to Wayne’s winter production like a good friend and roommate, despite the fact that he has to go alone because he can’t go the day the rest of his friends are going.

Growing up is more stressful and yet less difficult than he’d really thought it would be; He’s twenty and he’s smiling so often and he loves California and his friends and his classes. He goes on dates but allows himself to be picky; doesn’t go on a second date with Phillip the actor that Wayne knows because he only talks about himself; makes a leap and asks out the male model who works in the Starbucks near campus. He gets asked out and he asks out and he gets rejected sometimes and sometimes he goes on dates and sometimes he just goes dancing and sometimes he kisses on the first date but mostly he doesn’t and he’s okay with that, for now. He was in a nearly two year relationship and it still hurts when he thinks of Kurt sometimes so he’s not in any rush to jump headfirst into a serious commitment anyway.

However, he meets Matt on a shiny Sunday when he’s playing guitar in the quad – and everything – it changes – it changes immediately.

Matt is slight and super blond and stands an inch shorter than Blaine. He’s lithe and handsome and he’s a dancer. Blaine watches as he’s dared by a group of his friends to dance along with the ballad Blaine’s plucking out on his guitar, eyes wide when this nameless face hands his bag to a friend and begins to sway rhthymically with the music. He’s graceful and beautiful in the setting sun, and when he approaches Blaine after he finishes the song, he does so with a straight-toothed wide smile and a hand out to shake.

They go to coffee later, and Blaine finds out Matt is a professional dancer; a ballet dancer. He takes classes for fun and dances with the Los Angeles Ballet Company as an actual vocation. He’s a year younger than Blaine and already has a career.

He’s got a great smile and a really quirky sense of humor. Blaine takes to him immediately and he can tell right away that they’re going to get along well.

After they finish their drinks he slides his number, written on a ripped piece of napkin, across the table to Blaine with a flourish.

“Call me,” He says, bright and wonderful. Blaine swoons a little, watching as Matt leaves the coffee shop.

It’s spring, the year is wrapping up. Suddenly, staying in LA for the summer seems even like a brighter idea than ever.

----

He means to call, he does, but then there’s moving back into the one room beach house in Venice and Roxie and Ryan split up and this year Kate’s joining them too, making their small little bungalow feel a bit cramped, so instead he just texts. They text.

Then there’s Kurt. It’s always Kurt.

He and Roxie are at The Farmer’s Market at The Grove, plastic bags in hand and perusing the fruit stand. It’s a good day for her; she’s not missing Ryan all that much – she’s bright and colorful and she’s dragging him through the stands by the belt loop at his right hip, trying to persuade him to indulge in the various kinds of fudge at the stand over.

He hears Rachel before he sees her, hears her lilt and bright voice and he stills, frozen amongst the tourists. Roxie roichets back to him having been moving, her fingers still in his belt loops, bumping into his hip. She looks up at him to say something when Blaine sees Rachel for the first time, coming meandering around the fudge stand looking wide eyed at all of the sweets, and right behind her is Kurt.

Blaine’s stuck in the spot; the moment. His brain is working a million times a minute, speeding through the reactions he should have. He contemplates ducking away, dragging Roxie away by her wrist and never looking back. He thinks about approaching them first; puffing up his chest and acting like it’s no big deal that he’s bumped into his high school sweetheart and one of his former best friends. He even thinks about feigning ignorance, pretending he didn't see them and seeing if they approach him.

Unfortunately, though, his ideas don't translate to actions quick enough and suddenly Rachel looks up, eyes drawn by whatever Roxie's babbling about at his side and he's caught staring, wide-eyed and deer-like in the middle of the lunchtime rush at the Farmer's Market at the Grove.

“Blaine?” She says, squinting a bit, head tilted. She's everything and nothing like he remembers, still tiny with a big personality (a trait that Roxie has as well; something he admits had drawn her to him from the moment he'd met her), still dressed in a flouncy little conservative dress that is so typically Rachel it's probably what the style name is.

He unfortunately flounders a bit; can feel his jaw working as he opens and closes his mouth unattractively in shock. He can feel Kurt's eyes on him from where he's standing behind Rachel but he refuses to look, refuses to make eye contact.

“Rachel !” He says sweetly, his heart pounding. It's three steps and she's launching herself into his arms, giggling like mad and pressing up on her tippy-toes to hug him properly. He hugs her back, warmly, closing his eyes against the familiar feel of her, the familiar smile pressed into his neck. He can tell Roxie is vibrating with curiosity beside him, still pressed against his side and fingers twisting in the bottom of his tee-shirt.

“Gosh, what a small world,” Rachel says with a bright smile, stepping back finally, eyes surveying him head to toe, “You look so handsome.”

He doesn't and he knows Rachel enough, even after all this time apart, that the tone she's using is her fake one. He's a bit of a mess; loose tee shirt and baggy shorts and a pair of his once-spotless Sperry's (which are now paint-spattered and sand beaten). He didn't even try to tame his hair and he's overtired because they hadn't slept at all in the past two days; Blaine's been working as a PA for that producer he'd interned for the summer before and nights were reserved for friends and music and being young.

Kurt, though, Kurt – who still has yet to say anything from where he stands a couple of feet from Rachel's elbow – is a presence to be reckoned with, like always. He stands tall, maybe even an inch or two taller than when Blaine had seen him last, in spotless white jeans and a gorgeous waistcoat and a thin chain with some sort of pendant on the end of it. His hair is brushed up and away from his face and the tiny, itsy bit of baby fat he'd had in his freshman year of college had melted away, probably from all the walking Kurt obviously had to do in New York.

He's stunning, and Blaine's blindsided really. He'd often criticized himself after it'd taken him so long to see how amazing Kurt was when he'd been standing in front of him so long, but the truth was, Kurt always took his breath away. From day one Blaine was stunned into silence by Kurt's presence, his strength, his beauty. If it took him a bit longer to realize what that all meant – well that was just Blaine's unfortunate obliviousness.

But now, now – Blaine's nearly twenty one and going into his junior year at UCLA. He's been broken up with Kurt nearly as long as they'd been together. He hasn't seen him in person in two years. Standing there, in front of him, after all this time makes him wonder so many things – but mostly he wonders if the boy standing in front of him is at all like the Kurt he'd known – because sometimes he doesn't completely recognize himself.

Kurt steps up to him, head ducking a little sheepishly. His eyes are bright; he looks happy.

“Hi,” He says, and before Blaine can reply, Kurt's reached for him and he's falling into an eerily familiar embrace. Kurt still smells the same, feels strong under his hands. It's good, so good, to press his face into Kurt's neck and hold him tight, to feel the strength in his arms and hear the rhythmic beating of Kurt's heart against his own.

Blaine's been happy in Los Angeles for nearly two years but it's never truly felt like home. Now it does.



Rachel and Kurt are staying in Silver Lake in a small bungalow that they're renting for the summer from an older lesbian couple who owns three dogs, five cats, an actual aquarium with four different variations of fish and a gecko. They'd decided to spend the summer on the West Coast because music and performing are not completely synonymous with New York City. There's an entire city that thrives under that exact notion.

It's not called Hollywood for nothing.

Rachel doesn't like Roxie immediately, Blaine can tell by her pinched smile and tight grip on the coffee cup in front of her. Kurt seems politely amused but Blaine can tell he's already looking down on his friend like she's a squashed bug. He knows it's because Roxie is loud and exuberant and unafraid to say what she wants when she wants to. She wears bright colors in her hair and has a nose ring. She's also one of the smartest people Blaine's ever met and he shouldn't get offended on her behalf because she's used to being judged, and even more used to proving people wrong.

It does hurt, though, seeing that look on Kurt and Rachel's faces, because this is who he is now. Roxie and Miller and Wayne and Kate are a part of him, as strange and eclectic as they are.

He wonders, as they sit in the shade at a table at the Farmer's Market, melting ice cream and sweating iced coffee cups in front of them, if he'd fit with them anymore. When Kurt's eyes flicker across the table and they catch gazes, Blaine wonders if he really cares.

Part Two.
Part Two.


 
 
( 4 comments — Leave a comment )
AJ Anderssilverdragon87 on October 29th, 2011 05:17 pm (UTC)
AH! Oh my god. First offragsf;bjkegrwrg;f thank you (I know this is only part one. PART ONE!? but I wanted to leave a comment here too.) Holyfuckinga.

So this is breaking my heart in really the best way possible and I am adoring watching Blaine grow and learn and be. I have no idea what, if any, research you did on me before you wrote this, but I actually used to live in LA and worked in the entertainment industry. I've worked in Westwood, a block from UCLA. I've lived a couple blocks from Warner Brothers. This is all so wonderful and beautiful and I am so sososososo grateful.

I love that Blaine stopped Davy, that he wasn't ready to have someone else's hands on him. I love the way we see how adaptive Blaine is and I'm totally the same way, not necessarily in style, but I feel like I'm constantly sort of shifting between groups of friends every few months or years, never quite staying in the same place.

I love this Blaine. I lovelovelovevlove it and OMG Kurt and Kurt is there and in LA and ohmygod I need to go read the next part.

THANK YOU!!! I am completely loving this so far :D
MissGoalie: blainersmissgoalie75 on October 29th, 2011 07:15 pm (UTC)
College is about finding yourself and growing and evolving and Blaine's always been stupidly moldable and kind of a pushover. He's inspired by human beings and art and voices and people who use all of those things to get what they want. He's drawn to the loud mouths and the outspoken and he latches onto them so he can emulate and branch forwards. It's always been how he is and it's always something he both loves and loathes about himself. It's hard to figure out who you are when you're so concerned about what and who everyone else is. I absolutely, completely, and totally love this – I think it's really true of Blaine and I can see this happening to him once he starts college and just laksdjflsdkfj. Stunning.

ON TO PART TWO.
fara1903fara1903 on October 30th, 2011 12:37 pm (UTC)
This is interesting! Wonder if they will grt back together!
diabla71588diabla71588 on October 30th, 2011 04:37 pm (UTC)
this is *gorgeous*. i fan-girl over your writing every time i comment on one of your fics but this is just..!!!! amaze balls. this, especially:
"High school - it's a bittersweet conglomerate of sewn together memories; singing in the choir room at the top of his lungs, unabashedly climbing across furniture in the senior commons with the Warblers. It's hugs and cuddling with Kurt under the covers on a snow day and running with Finn on Sunday mornings and watching Kurt help his mother pick that very perfect dress for her twentieth high school reunion. It's curling up on Kurt's bed studying for the SATs while Kurt writes his college entrance letters, and learning to play guitar by Puck's hand. It's positive and sad and some bittersweet moments, all condensed into flipbook images that Blaine's burying and losing behind new memories and friends and experiences."

this is such a perfect way to describe high school, college, all those defined times in your life that seem like everything and then fade to little moments. just...hearts, stars and klainebows for this fic.
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