Posted originally on the Archive_of_Our_Own at https://archiveofourown.org/
works/7882390.
  Rating:
      Explicit
  Archive Warning:
      Underage
  Category:
      M/M
  Fandom:
      Glee
  Relationship:
      Kurt_Hummel/Sebastian_Smythe, Blaine_Anderson_&_Kurt_Hummel
  Character:
      Kurt_Hummel, Sebastian_Smythe, Rachel_Berry, Burt_Hummel, The_Warblers,
      Blaine_Anderson, David_Karofsky
  Additional Tags:
      Alternate_Universe_-_Canon_Divergence, Alternate_Universe_-_Soulmates,
      (except_I'm_Team_Free_Will!), Insecurity, Musical_References, Angst_with
      a_Happy_Ending, True_Love, Redemption, Alternate_Universe_-_Dalton
      Academy, dreams_do_come_true, Blaine_Friendly, (but_he's_minor), Papa
      Bear_Burt, Rachel_Berry_&_Kurt_Hummel_Friendship, Eventual_Smut, (and_it
      takes_awhile_but_once_we're_there), Loss_of_Virginity, Dirty_Talk,
      Commitment
  Series:
      Part 1 of Defying_Gravity
  Stats:
      Published: 2016-08-27 Completed: 2017-03-19 Chapters: 26/26 Words: 63404
****** It's Hard To Be The One Who Stays ******
by romantic_drift
Summary
     "Kurt watches with breathless anticipation as the ink surfaces on his
     skin and etches his Name.
     It isn’t Sebastian Smythe."
     Kurt meets Sebastian first. He finds out his Soulmate Name after.
     (A High School Dalton AU. Also a Soulmate AU where at 18, your
     soulmate's name is imprinted on your ring finger, leading to the
     custom of wedding rings - White, Looking. Silver, Found. Gold,
     Married. Black, Dead)
Notes
     Have been musing for a long time what soulmates really mean. Blaine
     appears, but briefly. This is squarely a Kurtbastian fic that spans
     high school, college, and post-college. It is not chronological, so
     mind the date tags for present and future timelines!
See the end of the work for more notes
***** Nice to Meet You (Feb, 2021) *****
Nice to Meet You (Feb, 2021)
“Come on, have one, they’re really good,” Kurt says, waving his Cosmopolitan
temptingly in front of Sebastian’s face.
“You already talked me into it once, and it tastes like fucking fruit juice,”
Sebastian says, batting Kurt’s hand away and reaching for his beer bottle.
“Keep your sissy drinks to yourself.”
He wraps his lips around the bottle lip and tips his head back, in a far too
calculated way, his eyes never breaking contact with Kurt's. Kurt follow the
roll of his throat, licking his lips.
The bottle clinks as Seb throws it back down onto the bar counter. Seb smirks,
like he knows exactly what Kurt’s thinking.
“Kurt, will you stop staring at your fiancé and focus on what matters!”
Rachel’s voice slices through the moment. “They’re about to start Karaoke
Night!”
Kurt groans. “I don’t want to. Go sing with your boyfriend, Rachel.”
He pushes at Sebastian’s legs until they splay wide, and slots neatly into the
warm space left for him. Sebastian’s hands wrap around him, hot. The air inside
the bar is thick and humid, but Kurt feels like a cat rolling around in its
owner’s blankets.
Rachel pouts. “I sing with Brody all the time! Don’t you think they deserve to
hear Broadway’s new star duet with her best-friend-slash-Broadway-rookie
together?”
“I think that’d just be unfair, actually,” Kurt says absent-mindedly, ignoring
her insult in favor of nuzzling into Seb’s neck, and Seb turns his head to let
him. God, he loves when Seb is like this. When he has just enough alcohol in
him to lose the mocking edge to his public gestures, when he’s just loving and
pliable. Kurt doesn’t want to move anywhere. 
They’re at a trendy bar in Chelsea. He can tell it’ll be one of those lazy
nights out, where he’ll mock and indulge Rachel while her new (“He’s it! Just
because he and I don’t have Names doesn’t mean we can’t tell, and this guy’s
The One—Tell Craiglist over there to stop rolling his eyes at me, Kurt—!”)
boyfriend Brody looks on with exasperated affection. Eventually, they’ll
transition to the part of the night where Rachel diva-storms onto the stage,
and Seb and he make-out in the back of the bar and on the dance floor, heated
and slow, and take it back home to sloppily finish the foreplay.
“Why don’t you just wait for Brody’s musician elf friend to come, and you can
trade one gay side-kick for another?” Sebastian drawls.
“Be nice, Seb! And you don’t even know he's gay,” Kurt says, giving Seb’s hand
on his waist a light slap. He already feels bad enough that the case materials
got sent to Sebastian’s ACLU office later than expected. They arrived at the
lounge late enough to have miss about half of Brody’s friend’s set, even though
Brody had gone out of his way to invite them. If that weren’t bad enough, they
all left before his set was done, because Rachel had insisted on getting to the
bar early enough that she could be the first to sign up, and therefore the
first to perform.
Sebastian scoffs. “Oh, come on, half my job is reading people. He was
clearlygay.” He shoots Kurt a wry look. “And it’s not nice to chastise your
boyfriend just because he said something true about a guy you thought was hot.”
“Please.” He gives Sebastian an unimpressed look. “So did you.”
Seb smirks, no denial.
“And anyway,” Kurt continues. “Vertically challenged or no, he had a nice
voice."  
“What? Not too mainstream for the rising Broadway star?”
Kurt has to press a light kiss to Seb’s neck for that, because beneath the mock
horror is affection and pride. The past year’s been tough, but Kurt’s now knee-
deep in rehearsals for his first actual on-Broadway musical, after his last
stint on an off-off-Broadway play was tagged by critics as his “breakout role.”
His future as a musical actor certainly looks brighter than it had ever looked.
Granted, it was pretty dark before this year.
“A little,” he concedes, “but his tone was good.”
“Whatever you say, babe.”
“I’d be honored to sing with you, Rachel,” Brody cuts in, when it’s obvious
Kurt’s not going to reply.
Brody runs his hand gently down her shoulder, and wow, Kurt thinks this one
might actually make the mile.
“Oh! Look!” Rachel squeals suddenly, “There’s your musician friend!”
And sure enough, making his way towards them is the guy they saw at the lounge,
his guitar case slung over his shoulder. Brody is laughing affectionately at
Rachel, saying, “He has a name, you know!“ while Rachel flips her hair back and
says, “Priorities.”
“You guys know, right?” Brody asks, glancing over at Sebastian and Kurt.
Kurt looks at Sebastian. Sebastian looks back at Kurt. Kurt looks back at Brody
blankly.
“Seriously?” Brody says.
“You’ve never mentioned it! All you’ve said is that he recently moved from LA.
And we came late!” Kurt defends them.
Brody sighs. “This is how I know you guys deserve to be friends,” he says. Kurt
is about to protest, because in no way is he like Rachel, but Brody goes on.
“Here he comes. I guess he’ll just have to introduce himself.”
And indeed, the guy’s just a couple of feet away from them now. Kurt
straightens up a little. He’s still cradled on both sides by Seb’s ridiculously
long legs—and he’s not really inclined to move from that position—but he can at
least not be sprawled all over Sebastian during introductions. No need to be
any ruder, after their entry and exit from the guy’s performance.
“Hi,” the guy says, as he reaches them. His smile is even more attractive off-
stage than on-stage, and his eyes are kind.
He is, as Sebastian pointed out, a smidge too short, but his compact body wears
his height well. It almost makes you want to tuck him away from the rest of the
world.
It’s an impulse that’s not helped by the fact that he’s wearing a dress shirt,
a bowtie, and honest-to-god suspenders, and generally looks like some dapper
1920s gentleman transported in time—if not for the fact that he also happened
to be making Kurt’s very modern gaydar blare like a siren.
Of course Seb and his frankly scary people-reading skills notices his
appreciation.
Sebastian nudges his shoulder, and Kurt nudges back. He’s not ashamed of being
caught out; he can feel the amusement radiating off Sebastian in waves.
The cute guy’s talking now, and Kurt moves his eyes from his biceps back to the
guy’s face.
“Nice to meet you,” the guy says, extending his hand. “I’m Blaine Anderson.”
Kurt flinches back.
The guy’s right hand dangles in the air. Kurt can see his broad smile slowly
tilt into confusion, as the seconds tick by and awkwardness blooms between
them. Kurt can’t do anything but stare blankly at him.
He’s breathing in short gasps out, and God, he hopes he doesn’t start
hyperventilating; he’s not that much of a drama queen.
Behind him, Sebastian has gone unnaturally still. Like he’s stopped existing in
his body—Kurt isn’t picking up any sort of mood from him now.
“I’m sorry, I think we have to leave,” Kurt says. His voice sounds strangled
and high-pitched in his ear.
Sebastian still isn’t moving.
Kurt pulls all 170 pounds of his lacrosse-playing boyfriend’s body through the
bar by the hand—with difficulty, because his fucking boyfriend is refusing to
fucking cooperate like usual—towards the red exit sign he can see shining in
the back.
But before he’s taken five steps, Rachel has moved to block his path.
“What do you mean you have to leave?” She says shrilly. In typical Rachel
fashion, she goes on, “I’m about to perform, and you have to sing back-up for
me!”
“We have to leave,” he repeats, pushing Rachel and whoever the fuck else he
encounters out of his way with Sebastian in tow. He’s at least moving with Kurt
now, even if he’s still not giving any other reaction. And whatever part of
Kurt that isn’t panicking about this is panicking about that.
As he’s forcing his way through the crowd, he can amidst the grouchy mutters of
the other patrons hear Rachel behind them screeching, “Wait! How dare you
leave! Kurt Elizabeth Hummel!” and another voice, a low male one, shocked,
“Wait—Did you say Kurt—“
The club’s door closes with a bang.
They stand outside without moving, breath puffing in the air, Kurt’s fast and
harsh, Sebastian’s eerily regular.
New Yorkers flow around them, drunkenly heading into one bar or another.
He stares at Sebastian’s sharp profile in the streetlight, trying to think of
something to say. But his throat is locked up with guilt.
The noise of the city encircles them, and yet Kurt feels oppressed by silence.
He’s thinking back to how attractive he found Anderson, and the shame and self-
hatred make him want to throw up—which is so stupidbecause if it were a normal
night out in Chelsea and Anderson was just some random guy, none of these
feelings would be swamping Kurt. But Anderson’s not some random guy, and it’s
not just meaningless watching, it’s a betrayal to Sebastian because he’s—he’s
Kurt’s—
“I’m going to head back,” Seb says. His eyes are still fixed away from Kurt.
Kurt swallows. The Ipunches him in the stomach.
Seb starts walking towards the subway station. He doesn’t turn around to check
that Kurt’s following behind him.
But of course Kurt does.
***** The Meerkat (Oct, 2010) *****
Chapter Summary
     Boy meets boy, and feelings are had.
     "Sebastian struts from social group to social group, shielded by his
     attractiveness and money and personality and talent, completely at
     ease with himself. It makes Kurt feel like he’s fading into the
     background, the worn parts of him showing up cheap and ratty next to
     Sebastian."
Chapter Notes
See the end of the chapter for notes
The Meerkat (Oct, 2010)
The first time he meets Sebastian, two things cross Kurt’s mind immediately.
The first is that he’s a hateful cocky bastard, who makes up for his
technically mediocre singing with dedicated practice, a hell of a lot of flashy
charm as a vocalist, a lean body that dances like a dream, and all the charisma
of a lead performer.
 The second is that he as blatantly a jock as he is gay as he is hot.
And fuck, is he hot.
Kurt came from McKinley, where, except for a few very specific exceptions like
Finn and Puck, all the jocks had been frightened enough of even a whisper of
gayness or musical theatre that they bulled Kurt daily for one or the other, or
both.
At McKinley, boys like Sebastian didn’t exist.
No one who wandered into the music room flushed and sweaty from practice with
his lacrosse team, who unabashedly commented on the relative attractiveness of
his classmates while still holding onto his title as the team’s rising star
athlete.
No one who showed up with bags under his eyes because he’d gone to Scandals the
night before with his fake ID (and how the hell had Sebastian gotten a fake ID
after only two months at Dalton while Kurt still doesn’t have one after over a
yearthere?), then bags under his eyes the next night because he’d been up late
practicing their new routine, and then bags under his eyes the night after that
because of an away game. 
Or anyone who ridiculed Kurt’s “gayface” and “girly clothes” while sporting
polo shirts with double-popped collarsand plaid shorts, and then without a
missed beat regaled them all with conversations like:
“Oh, lots of things. My dad wanted me to go back to Ohio and graduate from his
alma mater. Mama had been itching for ‘freedom’, and I sure as fuck didn’t want
to be around for her hippy stage. Not to mention that the guy I was sleeping
with was getting a little too obvious.”
And because Kurt is a virgin with shameless curiosity, he hadn’t been able to
hold himself back from prodding for more information.
“Like you have enough of a sense of shame to care about being obvious,” he
said. 
He stared pointedly at their piano, on which just yesterday Sebastian and some
Dalton boy’s visiting brother had been sprawled all over, a sight Kurt and the
rest of the Warblers had been unfortunate enough to walk in on. Kurt had
shrieked shrilly enough that Sebastian had actually given in and wiped it down.
Kurt still wasn’t going anywhere close to that thing in the near future.
No one needed to know that only half of that had to do with his neurotic
germophobic tendencies, while the other half had to do with the shivery
feelings he got when he looked at the piano. Every time he looked at the piano,
his mind superimposed over it Sebastian’s wrecked hair and open belt-buckle and
the hickeys his ridiculous popped collars couldn’t hide.
Sebastian looked amused, in the way that always make Kurt want to punch his
Meerkat face in.
“Well, no, but if we were caught, people would’ve assumed I slept with the guy
in order to get tips for the exams. And that’s just insulting to my reputation,
sexual and otherwise.”
Kurt stared at him. Along with the rest of the Warblers, some of them cut off
mid-note on their warm-up scales. 
“You slept with your teacher?” Hunter crowed.
Sebastian gave a fake shudder. “Ugh. No. Three words: Wrinkly. Hairy. Balls.
No, he was my TA—“ Kurt stared at him incredulously, his gaze very obviously
conveying how the hell does that make it better?—“Oh, put away your Puritan
judgment, Kurt, we were close enough in age that even if we were caught he
wouldn’t have been charged as a sex offender.”
“He could’ve been fired!—” 
“So?”
“—and what about his Name—”
Sebastian’s smile twisted until it was a cruel warped thing. “What, jealous
that I was getting some ass while you were jerking off alone in your bed,
princess?” 
He cocked his head to the side.
“I don’t see what your problem is. It was consensual, he hadn’t met the girl
with his Name yet, and he said he was straight. So obviously, I had to riseto
the challenge.”
And then Sebastian grins. As if that were all there was to it.
Kurt was going to respond, but then realized: duh. The repercussions were all
on the side of the TA and his not-yet-met Soulmate. Asking Sebastian to care
was like asking a kid to cry over a classmate’s broken toy. 
Kurt stormed out of the room instead to express his murderous feelings.
The thing is, Sebastian was right, a little.
Kurt is envious.
He doesn’t want to beSebastian and do what he does. Not only because he can’t,
but because Kurt doesn’t want to. 
Kurt’s always loved the idea of a Name. He can’t wait for his Soulmate’s name
to manifest on his ring finger the moment he turns eighteen, thinks about
waiting everyday with breathless excitement until that moment they meet. He
can’t fathom having sex with anyone else beforehand. It’d be betrayal to his
Soulmate. It’d be cheating.
He knows that’s a passé thought. Nowadays, only the conservatives frown upon
sex pre-Soulmate—studies have shown ages of Finding vary widely, and the
daytime talk shows are perpetually full of people who try to force early
meetings and end up with tragic results, like mistaken identities or wrong
timing.
But how could you have sex with someone knowing they were meant for someone
else?
Yet.
Yet.
Sebastian gets others to look at him, to find him desirable so effortlessly. He
wears his promiscuity like his gayness: with confidence.
Kurt, on the other hand, agonizes endlessly in front of his closet and spends
the normal teenage amount of time—which amounts to basically 75% of his waking
hours—thinking about sex and wondering if he would like to have sex and still a
little mortified that everyone knows he wants it to be with a guy.
It’s not that Sebastian doesn’t ever get homophobic remarks—the football team
here is as shitty as at McKinley—but the Warblers are successful enough that
they’re pretty high on the totem pole, the lacrosse team is protective of their
star player, Sebastian’s family is prominent enough that no one dares to go
very far, and his tongue is sharp enough that he never gets beaten in a verbal
fight.
All this culminates in Sebastian strutting from social group to social group,
shielded by his attractiveness and money and personality and talent, completely
at ease with himself.
It makes Kurt feel like he’s fading into the background, the worn parts of him
showing up cheap and ratty next to Sebastian.
Kurt responds as he typically does to insecurity.
He becomes his nastiest self.
He fights Sebastian for every solo, even the ones where Sebastian is clearly
the better choice (and there are unfortunately some of those).
He even badmouths him to the all the Warblers, who all seemed far too amused
with the “divalicious catfight” (Jeff’s term) and seemed to have collectively
decided to humor Kurt while continuing their bro-hugs and bro-punches with
Sebastian. 
This is how Kurt learns that basically every Warbler is Sebastian’s childhood
friend, from when he used to live in Ohio. No fucking wonder the Meerkat didn’t
even have to audition, and just waltzed into practice one day. Apparently the
bonds of private-school rich boys who like to dance and sing endure, who knew.
The plan to turn the Warblers against Sebastian a failure, he takes to
insulting Sebastian to his face. Which works as well as his plan to turn the
Warblers against Sebastian.
That is, not at all.
The bastard neverloses his temper.
 Regardless of how hard he stabs at Sebastian’s sore spots—and Kurt knows
exactly where to hit, his experience at McKinley taught him not just how to
defend himself but also how to effectively strike back, and Sebastian’s two-
second flinch tells him his crueler marks hit their target—Sebastian… just
smiles maliciously and throws back a retort that stings just as much.
Kurt mocks Sebastian for having to attend the sophomore homecoming alone,
despite his revolving bedroom door. Sebastian says at least his bedroom door
sees someone other than himself.
Kurt tells Sebastian how unfortunate it is Sebastian’s powerful state attorney
dad couldn’t make it to their first large-scale performance. Sebastian replies
that at least his dad made more money than Kurt’s dad did in three years as a
mechanic. 
Kurt says Sebastian is so deathly afraid of losing his friends that he’s always
throwing his money around and going along with their stupider ideas (Hunter
actually suggested they take steroids once before a performance, and Sebastian
had looked torn). Sebastian says obviously Kurt’s avoidance of relationships
with anyone outside of the Warblers was muchhealthier, since he must know what
real friendship was, after his “friends” allowed him to transfer from McKinley
to “spy” (Kurt learns at this point that it was an open secret among the
Warblers, all of whom finds it endlessly amusing, and sulks for days).
Kurt ridicules Sebastian’s ugly clothes, noting that obviously he dresses like
he’s heading to a yacht every time he’s out of his Dalton uniform because he’s
either too afraid of breaking the prep boy mold or just plain lacked
imagination. Sebastian rolls his eyes and says that at least he was brave
enough to come out to his parents when he was twelve, rather then dress as
flamboyantly as possible for years in the desperate hope that the right people
would pick up on his signals and he would never have to scrounge up his courage
to come out.
It goes on like that for awhile. Kurt at least has the satisfaction of knowing
that Sebastian is paying as much attention to Kurt as Kurt is paying to
Sebastian.
Winter break at home changes everything. 
Between being with his family, reunion meet-ups with New Directions (and many
many impromptu performances, he forgot how much they all loved impromptu
performances), Kurt texts Sebastian.
One day, as his hands are hovering over his phone, Kurt realizes he and
Sebastian had stopped fighting when he wasn’t looking.
Oh, they still argue. Especially over who gets what solo, because with Wes,
David, and Thad becoming increasingly involved with college applications and
the schoolwork of upperclassmen (and in David’s case, his Found girlfriend.
Otherwise known as his childhood best friend. Some people have all the luck),
they’ve somehow become the de-facto heads of the Warblers.
But Sebastian is unexpectedly yielding of the center stage, willing to let not
only Kurt but also most of the Warblers take a turn if they’re suited for the
song. His surprising magnanimity makes Kurt in turn more agreeable to standing
back and just being part of the unit that is the Warblers—which is something
that’s never happened when he was part of New Directions. As much as he adored
them, he has to admit it was mostly an ensemble group of a cast of solo
artists. 
Kurt’s always going to want to be a star—but for the first time, he begins to
enjoy the harmony a group can make together, its own rush of beauty and power.
These facts become true about his life, slowly, steadily, no path back: 
Sebastian is the person among the Warblers whom he talks to the most.
He somehow has Sebastian’s phone number now, just like Sebastian has Kurt’s,
and they text about stupid stuff.
They don’t so much spit insults at each other as tradeinsults now. And even the
insults have mostly lost their cruel edges—or at least, the two of them of them
aren’t reacting to them in the same way anymore. When Sebastian says something
biting and just a little too astute, Kurt doesn’t feel that sharp hurt, quickly
covered over, anymore. He just begins composing his witty retort in his head.
And these facts are... strangely freeing.
He doesn’t have to watch himself with someone. At all.
He knows he can be what others would call catty. He tries not to be with the
people in his life closest to him. Mercedes mostly makes him warm and better.
As much as he adores Rachel, he sometimes is a little too afraid that the wrong
comment will lead to either a breakdown or a tantrum that he isn’t in the mood
to deal with. With his dad, even though he knows his dad loves him
unconditionally and he can go to him with anything, his dad is his dad and he
doesn’t want to disappoint him. 
It’s not that his dad failed to teach him to not be cruel, it’s just that—he
likes to sometimes blame his bitchier tendencies on the years of being bullied,
but deep down, he knows that it’s just a part of him.
And maybe it’s just because he doesn’t care enough about Sebastian and his
opinion, but it’s as if this neglected part of his personality has finally
found a playmate.
They’re—and there isn’t another word for it, which is horrible because he hates
this word, it’s terribly tacky—frienemies. Maybe on their way down the same
path as he and Rachel traveled.
Of course, it goes to hell right afterwards, because Sebastian is a fucking
bastard.
Chapter End Notes
     This was written ages ago, when I hadn't learnt yet show not tell. I
     tried inverting the order and all manners of things, but it screwed
     too much with what comes after. So here it is, Kurt's introduction to
     Sebastian fast-forwarded, in all its glory.
     I still kind of love their catfights.
***** Silence (Feb, 2021) *****
Chapter Notes
     I swear I was going to stick to my posting schedule, and I think I'll
     regret it when I start running out of chapters I've banked. But I'm
     sitting in an airport, my missed connection having cost me 8 hrs
     (after TWO standby calls that didn't come to anything). And I just
     really need my boys and some angst and like I'm doing something with
     my life. So enjoy 2 new chapters (since the 1st is super short)!
See the end of the chapter for more notes
 Silence (Fall, 2021)
The ride on the subway back to their apartment is quiet, even through the
transfers. Kurt sits, Sebastian stands. Kurt stands, Sebastian sits.
And of course Kurt knows his way home, it’s not like he’s going to get lost,
but usually Sebastian is behind him, tracking Kurt and his scarf as he weaves
through the crowd, or he’s beside Kurt and holding his hand, ostensibly so they
don’t get separated by the crowd.
Today, Kurt might as well be invisible. Sebastian’s just holding himself ramrod
straight, the air around him impregnable, twirling the silver ring on his
finger around and around and around. It scares Kurt.
Kurt wants to talk to Sebastian, wants to slap him until he gets a reaction,
wants a hug and a kiss and the press their bodies tightly together, wants to
have the loose and soft Sebastian he was expecting for tonight back. He doesn’t
know how to get any of these things.
The silence stands between them the entire way home.
As they step through the door of their apartment, the warm lights dim on
slowly. They illuminate the flowing minimalist lines that Seb likes, the ornate
touches that Kurt loves even though he knows they’re on just the wrong side of
kitschy, the souvenirs from Ohio and vacations and parties and all the years
that have passed between them. Kurt loves taking the credit for how it all
pulls together when they’re entertaining, but truthfully, Sebastian’s presence
creeps into all the corners, and to Kurt it feels like what his home should
feel like.
Tonight, looking at it, his heart aches.
As Kurt stands there, looking, Sebastian pads across the hardwood floor, his
shoes already off.
Before Kurt’s aware of it, he’s crossed the room after him and is clinging to
the front of Sebastian’s shirt with both hands.
He buries his head into Sebastian’s neck.
Kurt desperately wants to say something, but none of his complicated feelings
are translating into words. Because what words do you say to your fiancé of
over a year, boyfriend and best friend for just shy of a decade, a fixture in
your life for more thana decade—when you’ve just met the person you’re ‘meant’
for?
Sebastian pulls his shirt free from Kurt’s hands, gently but firmly.
The bathroom door closes behind him.
Kurt stands there, staring blankly at the closed door, before wobbling down
onto their sofa.
Everything feels so unreal.
He looks down at his hands, at the silver band glinting on his ring finger.
That looks surreal too. In fact, the longer he looks, the more it seems to blur
in front of him, shards of colors splintering from the reflective surface. He
closes his eyes, breathes deeply in, out. In, out.
There’s something wet on his face.
In. Out. In. Out.
When he opens his eyes again, groggy and confused, only the end table lamps are
on. For a moment, he can’t remember why he’s on the couch—these days,
practically none of their frequent fights are serious enough for anyone to get
a stint there—but then it all floods back.
It’s all he can do not to vomit.
Instead, he pulls himself up from the couch, letting the throw wrapped around
his body fall to the floor. His coat and scarf are hanging up by the door, and
his shoes are lined up neatly on the shoe rack for his favorites. 
His heart gives a painful squeeze. He didn’t think it was possible for him to
feel worse, but he does. The bathroom is dark and open. He strains to hear
Sebastian, but the apartment’s entirely silent.
Kurt moves through his night routine mechanically. He scrubs at his skin under
a steaming shower spray, as if he can wash off with the smell of alcohol the
rest of his night, and skips his moisturizing routine completely, because for
the first time in forever, he doesn’t give a damn how he looks tomorrow,
because he already knows he’ll feel like shit.
When he finally slides into bed, he can make out Sebastian lying on his back on
his side of the bed, his hands crossed against his collarbone. His body is
still, and his breathing is even, but Kurt knows he’s not asleep, because his
left index finger is rubbing over the surface of his silver ring, again and
again.
There’s no more space between them than usual. They both get hot at night, so
they usually don’t sleep cuddled together, unless it’s after the sort of sex
that leaves Kurt wanting to claw at Sebastian until he’s crawled beneath his
skin.
But tonight, Kurt feels every inch of space between them, harder to breach than
those last few breaths between them, the first time they kissed.
Kurt closes his eyes and tries to empty his mind, practically begging sleep to
come to him quickly.
“I suppose it was about time,” Sebastian’s voice murmurs suddenly out into the
darkness. He breathes out a humorless laugh.
Kurt squeezes his eyes shut tighter.
Chapter End Notes
     You know Seb must love Kurt to let him design his apartment, haha.
***** Familiar Revelations (Jan, 2011) *****
Chapter Summary
     "Dave doesn’t look bad—he’s in nice jeans and a dress shirt, but he
     doesn’t look like sex, not like Sebastian does tonight in his club
     clothes, skintight black jeans and shirt that brings out the blonde
     in his hair and the green of his eyes."
     A Scandals trip blow things up, real fast.
Chapter Notes
See the end of the chapter for notes
Familiar Revelations (Jan, 2011)
From sketchy sources that Kurt still does not know about, Sebastian produces a
fake ID for Kurt and the rest of the Warblers, and convinces even the straight
boys to come with him to Scandals because “It’s been so boring lately you’d
think it was a straight club.”
It’s—a lot less glamorous than Kurt expected. Of course, his only exposure to
gay clubs is from Queer as Folk, but it’s grimy, the lights are tacky, and the
men far less attractive than he expected.
But then some guy walks by in a verytight shirt—which isn’t remarkable in and
of itself, one of the perks of being with the Warblers is the costume changes—
But when Kurt can’t help but follow him with his eyes, the guy looks back and
flashes him a smile and a wink.
He feels himself getting a little hot in the leather jacket he saved for just
this occasion.
Kurt can get used to that sort of reaction.
“Really, princess? I’m a little disappointed in your taste. You think having
been around me for so long, you’d have higher standards,” Sebastian’s voice
whispers out of nowhere, shockingly close to his ear. Kurt goes even redder,
inexplicably, and his pants feel too tight.
Just a side-effect of being around all these gay men, he tells himself sternly.
“Where did the rest of them go?” he asks, rather than replying.
Sebastian straightens up and tilts his head over to the bar, where the guys are
getting smashingly drunk and the men around them are looking like they’ve died
and gone to hot men heaven. Hunter in particular is unabashedly grinding with
one of the hottest guys Kurt’s seen at the club.
“Is he bi?” Kurt asks.
Not that he’d ever touch Hunter with a ten-foot pole. He’s objective good-
looking, but there’s something smarmy and malicious about him. It’s far more
disconcerting than Sebastian’s occasional viciousness, which Kurt on pain of
wearing Old Navy clothes will admit he feels a certain kinship towards.
“No.” There’s a note of regret in Sebastian’s voice. “Devoid of any and all bi-
curious tendencies. Trust me, I tried.”
Kurt looks sideways at Sebastian. He knows Sebastian and Hunter have arguably
one of the closer friendships among the Warblers. He tells himself he’s just
curious because it would be hilariousif the king of one-night stands were
secretly pining all this time.
“I’ve always wanted to fuck a soldier—or an ex-soldier-in-training, I suppose,
if you want to get technical,” Sebastian continues.
And before Kurt processes that, Sebastian’s gone and downed a vodka shot stolen
from David (the poor guy was just holding it in his lap while staring around
Scandals in bemusement) and moved out onto the dance floor.
In the blink of an eye, he’s sandwiched between two guys and grabbing them both
close. Of course, both the guys are the hotter specimens Scandals has to offer.
Kurt rolls his eyes and goes to the bar himself. He’s not a big drinker,
alcohol cuts from his fashion fund, but he feels like he’ll need a drink
tonight.
By the time an hour or two has passed, Kurt is comfortably loosened up. He’s
been exchanging the usual banter with the Warblers. Once or twice a guy had
come up to him and Kurt, unable to stop himself from beaming at them all and
shooting a look of triumph over at Sebastian, had taken his turn around the
dance floor with whoever had asked. But no one seemed to be able to hold onto
his attention, and it usually didn’t take more than a dance or two before he
was wandering back to the bar.
He certainly hasn’t been the social butterfly Sebastian has been tonight.
Sebastian is undoubtedly in his element. He’s been flitting from men to men in
between “re-hydrating sessions” every thirty or so minutes, ducking once at
some point into the bathroom for activities that Kurt doesn’t really want to
think about, because, ugh, germs.
But—even though his eyes gleam with delight, he’s radiating the sort of energy
that Kurt associates with a performance on stage, it’s wild and manic and the
edges of it make Kurt uncomfortable.
He doesn’t know why—Sebastian can take care of himself, he’s clearly a regular
at Scandals, considering the free drinks the bartender throws his way—but he
can’t help keeping an eye on him. 
Which is why he doesn’t miss seeing a large figure approaching Sebastian.
A familiar figure. One that sends off every alarm in his head.
Because that’s Dave Karofsky. Who stole Kurt’s first kiss and then was so
closeted he bullied Kurt badly enough that Kurt fled to Dalton in the first
place.
They’d run into Karofsky once, at a competition held at McKinley. Kurt
remembers the blurry edges of a panic attack, screaming “at least Ican live
outside the closet!” as the other Warblers spilled out into the hallway and
Trent wrenched Karofsky’s hand off his collar.
Kurt doesn’t approve of what they did next—threatening to out Karofsky unless
he leves Kurt alone now and forever—but he’s not going to lie and say he wasn’t
touched by the gesture. It’s what kept him at Dalton, despite Santana’s best
efforts to bring him back to McKinley.
After that, he put away all of his memories of Karofsky, and didn’t think
anymore of him until the news that Karofsky was gay spread like wildfire
through McKinley. Kurt had torn into all the Warblers before they managed to
convince him none of them had done it (not even Hunter, who had rolled his eyes
and said if he’d done it, he would be proclaiming the news to everyone and
their mother. Kurt had to grudgingly agree with him on that).
Kurt moves swiftly to his feet, his buzz completely gone, pushing people out of
the way to get closer to Sebastian. There’s a knot at the pit of his stomach.
Karofsky looks haggard, Sebastian is on the edge of too drunk, and Kurt
remembers all too well the ugly look on Sebastian’s face when Sebastian had
learnt what had happened with Karofsky, after Kurt’s freak-out on them all just
a month ago.
When Kurt gets to them, they’re already talking.
“But how?” he hears Karofsky say, desperation laced in his voice.
He can see Sebastian’s face, the way it takes on that vicious edge that Kurt
knows to brace himself for, back when Kurt and Sebastian were still trying to
really hurt each other, because the words following that look always embedded
deepest into his underbelly.
“Easy,” Sebastian says, “I have money, and I look like me.”
He smiles.
“You should try it. There’s nothing to be done about the money, but you can
start by waxing those fucking eyebrows, they make you look like Liberace. And
losing a hundred pounds.”
He pauses, looks Karofsky up and down. Karofsky doesn’t look bad—he’s in nice
jeans and a dress shirt, but he doesn’t look like sex, not like Sebastian does
tonight in his club clothes, skintight black jeans and shirt that brings out
the blonde in his hair and the green of his eyes.
Those eyes glitter in the club’s flashing lights, dark with amusement.
“Maybe more,” he drawls. “Honestly, you should’ve done all the gay men of the
world a favor and just stayed in the closet.”
Kurt is in the perfect position to see Karofsky's face crumble. He turns away
and into the crowd faster than Kurt thought a football player could move. Kurt
is also in the perfect position to see the smirk of as satisfaction that
spreads across Sebastian’s face. It grows wider when the surrounding men, all
of whom paused to watch the drama, laugh and whistle. One even goes so far as
to wrap an arm around Sebastian’s waist and give him a peck on the cheek.
Kurt storms up to Sebastian, rage and alcohol burning through his system, and
slaps him hard across his face and his fucking smirk.
The slap rings loudly in the club, incongruous with the throbbing music.
He can hear commotion behind him, the voices of Wes and Trent and David, but
all he can see is Sebastian’s face. His cheek is red with the imprint of Kurt’s
right hand, perfectly centered. His eyes flash quickly through myriad
emotions—shock, confusion, anger.
“What the fuck,Kurt?” he yells, and Kurt doesn’t really understand, but he
hears traces of betrayal in Sebastian’s voice, and he can’t help yelling back,
because how dareSebastian look at him like that, when it’s Kurtthat has the
right to be angry.
“Why did you dothat?”
Horrifyingly, he can hear in his own disappointment in his voice, and that
doesn’t make any fucking sense, because he didn’t even have a good opinion of
Sebastian in the first—
“What I just didwas tell it like it was. To, and let me remind you of this
fact, your fuckingbully.With his pathetic internalized homophobia and pathetic
cowardice and pathetic desperation and even morepathetic attempt to look sexy—”
Kurt slaps him hard again, right on top of the last handprint.
Sebastian shuts up.
He holds a hand to his cheek and stares at Kurt incredulously.
Kurt is even angrier now than before, he didn’t even think that was possible,
but he’s so angry he can’t breathe, tears inexplicably filling his eyes.
“Maybe it is to you! You’re the top gay at Dalton! You get what you want, who
you want, when you want! But get this through your swollen fucking head—” and
his tears are spilling over, as he advances on Sebastian and pushes him back
with each enunciated word—“Not. Everyone. Is. Like. You.”
Sebastian laughs humorless, “Well, obviously, Gay—“
“Shut up!” Kurt shrieks. “It’s not a joke! You might not remember what it feels
like to feel trapped by your own body and sexuality, but I do. And you might
not have ever known what it’s like to feel undesirable, like you’re never going
to catch anyone’s eye, like when you’re eighteen there isn’t going to be a name
for you on your hand because even in a world with six fucking billion people in
itthere isn’t even one who wants you, but I. Do!”
By the end, he’s screaming, his voice ringing throughout the room because the
DJ has stopped the music. There’s sudden silence, except for Kurt’s harsh
breathing.
Sebastian is staring at him motionlessly, nothing but shock all over his face.
Kurt watches him. He’s unfreezing, slowly, but Kurt has no idea what sort of
expression Sebastian’s going to make, whether it’ll be dismissive or
retaliatory or—
He doesn’t wait to find out. He turns around and speeds out the door to find
Karofsky.
Kurt yells his name over and over as he circles the parking lot, until some of
the Warblers have come out to help and followed suit, until his voice is
hoarse. He can’t find him anywhere.
Finally, Trent puts a hand on his shoulder and leads him gently back to one of
their cars. Some of the Warblers accompany him back.
The other half is missing, along with a very specific face.
When Kurt is in bed that night, Sebastian’s smirk swims in his mind each time
he closes his eyes, and he has a hard time banking the rush of disgust and
misery that rushes through him enough to fall asleep.
The next day, Sebastian shows up with a cheek swollen red in the shape of a
handprint. Wild speculation run through Dalton, but none of the Warblers say a
single word about last night. They don’t bring it up with Kurt either.
Kurt and Sebastian don’t speak.
Oh, they saythings to each other, during the math class that they share and at
practice that afternoon. But they don’t speakto each other. And even when
Sebastian has to address Kurt, he is either looking somewhere else or keeping
his face and voice so neutral that he might as well not look at Kurt.
This makes Kurt irrationally angrier, and he doesn’t know what to do with that,
because he’s still not sure he can seriously interact with Sebastian without
slapping him a third time, but he’s also lividthat Sebastian is ignoring him.
Fuck the fact that he’s de facto doing the same.
Three days later, Kurt hears all over the school that Dave Karofsky attempted
suicide.
Sebastian doesn’t show up to his classes.
Chapter End Notes
     I'll be over here both angry and approving of BOTH Kurt and Sebastian
     (the latter of whom has had time here to get attached to Kurt, I hope
     I managed to show the shades for his behavior well :P)
     A shout-out must be made here to my FAVORITE Kurtbastian fic ever, We
     Were Never Here by SweetestDisarray: http://archiveofourown.org/
     works/649798/chapters/1182256
     I only read about the canon covering events like the dealings with
     Dave, and the upcoming NYADA auditions - and I'm SURE some of my
     characterization owes much to her. So to give credit where it's due!
     Next update will come next Sat, or if I can get real writing done,
     this Sat even. Since I know firsthand how suspense sucks.
***** Amends (and who needs it?) (Jan, 2011) *****
Chapter Summary
     "He falls asleep, and dreams of Sebastian’s pallid body lying on the
     ground, the blond of his hair and the green of his eyes seeping into
     the ground. Someone kneels beside him, carding through his hair
     gently."
     Sebastian does his equivalent of crying, Kurt begins to understand,
     and Dave Karofsky reflects.
Chapter Notes
See the end of the chapter for notes
Amends (and who needs it?) (Jan, 2011)
Kurt is in his room that night, trying to work on a new arrangement, but all he
can think of is the fact that no one saw Sebastian all day. David had gone to
knock on his door when he didn’t make it to practice, but didn’t get so much as
a “Go the fuck away.” Kurt’s trying to convince himself it’s really not
necessary for him to drop by Sebastian’s room.
It’s absurd that he’s thinking about it in the first place. He should be
planning when and how to make a visit to Dave Karofsky’s hospital room, not
sitting here worrying about Sebastian, who for all he knows responded to the
news of David’s suicide attempt with a shrug and a “So what? What does that
have to do with me?”
Fuck, he could still be “entertaining” someone he hooked up with at Scandals or
through Grindr or even Craiglistlast night, and that’s why he didn’t come to
class.
Kurt doesn’t think so. He thinks Sebastian must be reacting badly, but he isn’t
sure why or how.
The thing is— Kurt doesn’t knowenough.
Kurt knows Sebastian’s sharp remarks and the personality he plays up and the
sore spots Kurt with his own myriad self-confidence issues can spot with a
glance. But it’s only now that he realizes, beyond these things, Kurt doesn’t
know anything about Sebastian.
What else can he talk about when he’s not sniping with someone? What does he
act like when he’s with someone he fully trusts, someone that is like Kurt’s
dad is to Kurt? He’s got insecurities, but where are they from, how deep do
they go?
Kurt likes being the most well-informed person in the room. It ensures that no
one can leverage anything over him.
Realizing his own ignorance and powerlessness makes him anxious and uncertain
and afraid.
Close to midnight, when he’s still struggling to drift off to sleep, his phone
rings.
His hand slaps over it and he stares blearily at the display.
It says:
Incoming Call
Meerkat
Kurt drops his phone. Then scrambles to find it again.
Sebastian’s occasionally called the other Warblers, but he’s never called Kurt.
Certainly not at midnight on a day like today.
He presses the accept button quickly and pulls his phone to his ear. His heart
is hammering with fear, even though the rational side of his brain tells him
Sebastian is likely just drunk-dialing.
“Kurrrrrrrtttt,” Sebastian slurs, and yes, he’s drunk. This doesn’t make Kurt
feel any better. Sebastian has a high alcohol tolerance and a very strong sense
of dignity.
“What is it, Meerkat?” he says, “Where are you? Is someone with you?”
Without really understanding why, he’s off his warm bed and rummaging around
for any shirt and pair of jeans he can find, not even bothering to turn on the
light. He keeps the phone pressed hard against the side of his face as he
changes.
“I did a bad thing,” Sebastian says, so soft Kurt can barely catch it. “Didn’t
I?”
“I…” Kurt’s mouth is dry. He wants to say yes, but that’s not really fair
either—“What happened, it wasn’t your fault, not really. Where are you?”
“You thought so. You slapped me.” He pauses. “It hurt.”
“Sebastian, tell me—“
“I didn’t feel bad about it at all. Why didn’t I feel bad about it? Can you
teach me to feel bad about it before I do it?”
“Sebastian, tell me where the fuck you are.”
Sebastian is silent, and Kurt is afraid that he’s passed out or cut off the
connection or not breath—
“My father’s home. Westerville.” he says at last.
“Okay, okay,” Kurt blabbers, as he searches the Internet for State Attorney
Smythe Westerville, and miraculously, after some digging, the guy’s address
pops up. Someone ought to fix that, even if they do live in Nowhere, Ohio.
“I’m coming to get you,” Kurt declares. He reaches for his keys, wallet, coat.
The bedroom door slams behind him.
“Is someone with you? Tell me someone’s around.”
Sebastian lets out a harsh laugh.
“Yes, of course someone’s next to me, who wouldn’t love to be with me right
now? His name’s Johnny, he’s gorgeous, very Scottish, very masculine, very
delicious. I’m even willing to share.”
Kurt’s rushing out of the dormitory, not even bothering to be quiet. He knows
he’s breaking curfew, his dad will be so angry when he hears about it, but this
is more important.
“Okay, Sebastian, I’m going to hang up now. I have to get a car. Don’t fucking
go anywhere, don’t fucking drink anything else. I’m going to call back in five
minutes, and you are going to pick up the phone, and you’re going to stay on
the line with me until I get there.”
He thinks Sebastian is going to protest, but he—just sighs, this tired soft
breath falling out of his mouth.
“Okay,” he says.
So that’s what Kurt does. He bangs softly but insistently on David’s door until
David opens the door, bleary and confused. David drops the keys to his car in
his hand, and the part of Kurt that isn’t crazy with worry loves David for his
willingness to do that even when Kurt offers no explanations beyond Sebastian’s
name. He promises to bring the car back as soon as he can before sneaking past
the RA’s door.
Kurt drives to Westerville, breaking the speed law the entire way, but all of
his attention is on monitoring Sebastian’s status, checking in with him every
couple of minutes to make sure he hasn’t passed out. 
Sebastian sings, laughs, muses about this or that class, slurs some story about
one Warbler or another, says Kurt’s name in a silly voice, says Dave’s name in
a whisper. Mostly, he stays quiet. Kurt listens to his breathing from the other
side of the phone, too slow and shallow. 
When he finally pulls up in front of an honest-to-God manor, Kurt throws open
the door and races up the lane. Then he’s passing through the gates using the
code Sebastian tells him when he demands it, and through the front door using
the spare keys Sebastian directs him to.
The house looks eerily like the setting for one of those gory horror movies
Kurt has always been too afraid to see. It’s dark, but for the lights shining
in from the window. The hallways stretch out before him, while painted heads
and landscapes looking down from the high walls. Whatever furniture Kurt can
see in the darkness looks classic and beautiful and utterly unused, like pieces
in a show room. The entire house feels as if there should be a white drape over
it all.
He walks towards the only light source he can see, a room far down the right
hallway with double doors pushed just a little open, so that light spills out
and into the hallway.
When he opens the doors wide, Sebastian is lying on the plush carpeting, his
head turned away from Kurt. For a second, Kurt’s heart is in his throat, even
though he can still hear Sebastian’s breathing into his ear through his phone.
Then the bastard turns his head and stares at Kurt with bloodshot eyes and a
charming smile.
“Kurrrt,” Sebastian says, rolling the r in his mouth, looking pleased with
himself.
Kurt hangs up the phone and jams it back in his pocket.
“Yeah, it’s me. And you’re an asshole.”
Jesus, there’s an entireempty bottle of Johnny Walker Blue Label—and even Kurt
knows that the stuff is expensive—next to him. And the display doors of the
vanity in the room are still open. Kurt looks around.
It’s clearly an office.
“You broke into your dad’s alcohol stash,” Kurt says flatly.
Sebastian huffs out a breath from his position on the floor. “He won’t miss it.
He doesn’t miss anything.”
Kurt doesn’t know what to say to that.
So instead of replying, he kneels down and pulls Sebastian to his feet.
Sebastian pushes his head into the cradle of Kurt’s neck, letting his head loll
in the hollow here.
“I don’t fucking know why you called me. Where’s your room?” Kurt asks, as he
starts wrestling Sebastian out of the room and into the hallway.
“The other hallway,” Sebastian slurs out. He sounds drowsy. Kurt jostles him a
little as they walk. Sebastian is notfalling asleep on Kurt now.
There’s silence.
Then Sebastian adds, so quiet Kurt has to strain to hear, “I thought you’d
answer.”
Kurt clutches tighter to Sebastian’s heavy body with his hands.
Soon enough, he’s pushing into Sebastian’s bedroom. He lets Sebastian go just a
touch too brusquely, and his body crashes down onto the bed, his long limbs
splaying all over the cream white sheets at odd angles. His green eyes, glazed
with alcohol, fixes on the white ceiling.
Kurt tears his eyes away and surveys the room instead. It’s as still and
as—empty—as the rest of the house, and the sound of Kurt trying to catch his
breath after lugging a solid teenage boy’s body down the hall practically echo
in the quiet. There’s some generic books, a couple of trophies, some tastefully
chosen décor and photos, clothes that look a little too small over the back of
the bed and in the closet, but— Kurt doesn’t get it.
“It’s all fun and games until someone gets hurt, isn’t it?” Sebastian breathes,
sounding small and tired, overwhelmed.
Kurt looks back at Sebastian. He knows Sebastian possibly just had a
revelation, but—
“Did you just figure that out?” He asks incredulously. “What exactly did you
think it was before?”
Sebastian laughs a dry, humorless laugh that peters out into practically a sob,
and Kurt’s anger dies in his throat. 
He feels an inexplicable urge to be closer, to watch the movements of
Sebastian’s face. So he does, lowering himself onto the edge of the bed.
“No one ever fucking cared,” Sebastian says, his eyes fluttering close. “How
was I supposed to know some offhand comments I made would suddenly matter so
much?”
Kurt says, after a moment, carefully, “Of course what you do matters.”
He isn’t sure how he feels about Sebastian right now, but he knows the moment
is tenuous, and he wants—he wants to not break it, to be let in.
Sebastian turns his head to look at Kurt. His smile is razor-sharp.
“Do you know what people see when they look at me, Kurt? A gay Parisian boy.
Fuck that I’m a state attorney’s son, that I play lacrosse and am in a glee
club and in the fucking honor society, oh no, I’m never those things. I’m just
the loudest, brightest, straightest homo in the room. But that’s fine. It’s
always been fine. Do you know why?”
Kurt feels like he’s stopped breathing.
“Because it doesn’t fucking matter. Except the bitchy things I say,
apparently.”
He laughs again. Kurt’s starting to really fucking hate that hard laugh of his.
“I used to have this nightmare, back when Mama still grounded me for going to
clubs in one of her occasional parenting kicks,” he says, so so nonchalantly.
“I’d just be lying on the ground, and color would just leech out, and I’d bleed
until I was waxy and gray. A leaf would fall—and I’d disintegrate into dust.”
Kurt thinks about the dark hallways he just walked through, the loud echoes of
all the big rooms, beautiful but empty, this fucking guestroom. He thinks about
himself under the glittering lights of the club, telling Sebastian that he
could never understand what it’s like to feel undesirable, to feel invisible
and insignificant.
He wants to cry, he’s not sure why or for who. His world twist and shifts, and
when the pieces have slotted back into place, his hand has unconsciously crept
over to cup the side of Sebastian’s head.
““I’m sorry I told you that you couldn’t possibly know,” he tells him, his
voice thick. He hopes Sebastian knows what he means, won’t mock him for the
quiver in his voice or the obtuseness of his response.
Sebastian looks at him.
“I didn’t know you felt like that,” he whispers.
Kurt doesn’t ask which parts of what he said Sebastian is referring to.
He pushes words pass the uncomfortable roll in his throat.
“That’s kind of the point,” he replies.
He takes a deep breath.
“I—a sharp personality is one thing, but cruelty’s another. You shouldn’t have
done it,” he says. Beside him, Sebastian is staring straight at him. There’s no
indication that he’s drunk out of his mind, except the bloodshot eyes looking
intently at him.
Kurt shoulders on. This—this is important, even if he’s not sure how much of
this Sebastian will remember tomorrow. It’s important that he meets Sebastian’s
honesty with his own.
“The way to deal with feeling like the world isn’t real isn’t to treat the rest
of the world like it’s not real either,” he says. “It’s to do things that
matter, dig deep until you’re filled with feelings that matter and surrounded
by people that do too.”
“I—I used to be like that, wavering between feeling too much and not feeling
anything at all, until—until I found New Directions.”
They’re quiet. Kurt listens to Sebastian’s breathing. He syncs his breaths to
Sebastian’s own.
“But what if,” Sebastian says, softly, slowly, “I dig deep, and there isn’t
anything there?”
Kurt feels like someone’s stabbed him in the stomach. How does Sebastian incite
these emotions from him even when drunk out of his mind?
“Don’t be an idiot,” Kurt tells him with a watery huff. “Of course you do, else
you wouldn’t be here getting drunk off your ass.” He pauses. “You just bury it
really really fucking deep.”
Sebastian laughs. His laugh doesn’t have that metallic edge anymore. It sounds
sleepy, and Kurt is glad. He stands up and gently pushes at Sebastian’s body,
trying to arrange his limbs so that they’re no longer sprawled every which way.
He wrestles the blanket higher up, but Sebastian’s already burrowing himself
into the bed.
Kurt sits still there for a moment, looking at Sebastian’s eyes moving beneath
his lids.
There are clatters out in the hall, which turns quickly to footsteps running in
the direction of the office.
“Shit,” he says, standing up, just in time for someone to slam open the door.
There’s a man standing in the doorframe. Broad-shouldered, Sebastian’s dirty
blond hair but cropped short, his suited body stock-still but his eyes whipping
from Sebastian to the room to Kurt, back again.
“I’m sorry—Sebastian—I can explain—“ he says.
Mr. Smythe’s—and it’s clearly Sebastian’s dad—eyes snap to Kurt. There’s a
cascade of emotions running across his face, confusion and anger and fear
and—oh.
“He’s fine, he’s fine,” Kurt says, hastily. “He’s just… passed out drunk right
now.”
All the tension drains out of Mr. Smythe’s body. He collapses onto one of the
armchairs.
“Oh God,” he says, between rough laughs, “Is that all?” 
“Um—no,” Kurt admits. “But that’s—a complicated story that doesn’t matter right
now.” He waits a beat. “Sorry about your whiskey, he broke into your liquor
stash."
Mr. Smythe shakes his head, still laughing. 
“Please,” he says. “Sebastian’s been stealing my alcohol since he turned
twelve, and he’s French.”
Kurt’s not sure how to respond to this insight into Mr. Smythe’s parenting. 
“Do you, um, want to sit?” he says at last.
Mr. Smythe nods. He slowly enters the room, and sits down heavily on the bed,
next to Sebastian, where Kurt was sitting just minutes ago.
“What’s your name?” Mr. Smythe asks suddenly.
“Kurt,” he says. “Kurt Hummel.”
“Well, Kurt Hummel… thank you for taking care of my son.”
“I—it’s not been—well, to be honest, it has been a problem, but I can handle
him,” Kurt says, suddenly feeling flustered.
Mr. Smythe laughs again. There’s something about the deep and gruff way he
laughs that reminds Kurt of Sebastian’s voice.
“I can take it from here. Do you need a ride back—you do go to Dalton? Right,
well, I can call back my driver.”
“No, I—I took David’s car. David from the Warblers.” Mr. Smythe nods in
recognition. “I’ll take his car back to campus and catch some sleep before
classes starts.”
Mr. Smythe nods again, but he’s already turned away to look at his son. His
hand is carding through Sebastian’s hair, hesitantly, in an eerily similar echo
of Kurt’s hands a bit ago.
Kurt leaves Seb in his dad’s hands, driving back and dumping himself onto his
bed in a daze. He replays the way Sebastian’s dad touched his son, a little
awkward, again and again.
He falls asleep, and dreams of Sebastian’s pallid body lying on the ground, the
blond of his hair and the green of his eyes seeping into the ground. Someone
kneels beside him, carding through his hair gently.
===============================================================================
 
“Hey,” Sebastian says.
“Hey,” Kurt replies. He tries not to let on from that one syllable all the
emotions that had slammed into him the moment he saw Meerkatflashing across his
phone’s screen.
He hadn’t expected to see Sebastian in class the morning after that drive to
Westerville—God knows he barely dragged himself out of bed the next day—but
when he hadn’t seen Sebastian during classes the day after either, and none of
the other Warblers had heard anything about him… he’d been… Worried,maybe.
But now here Sebastian is on the phone, sounding like his cocky self again. 
“I’m driving,” he says, apropros of nothing.
“Ohhhhkay,” Kurt says. Apparently Sebastian is just going to pretend his
drunken night with Kurt never happened. Kurt isn’t sure he can pretend the
same.
“I’m heading to the hospital,” Sebastian says. 
“Oh.” 
Guess not.
They’re quiet. Kurt wonders what it is Sebastian is expecting from him exactly—
“Oh,” he exclaims, “Oh. Right. Um. I was actually intending to do the same.
Actually, I’ve already borrowed David’s car”—more like he’s never returned
it—“I’ll see you there in thirty minutes.”
Sebastian laughs.
“What? Do you usually go see people who used to routinely beat you up in the
hospital?”
Kurt thinks about Puck and the other New Directions boys. He doesn’t explain,
says simply, “Yes.” And then, after a pause. “And I’d certainly do it for a
friend.”
There’s another pause.
“See you there then, Gayface.”
Sebastian’s voice is low and soft. Kurt thinks it sounds a little like
gratitude.
===============================================================================
 
When Kurt gets there, Sebastian is already sitting in one of the plastic
hospital chairs. When he sees Kurt, he smiles his signature smirk, but Kurt
doesn’t think his just-fucked hair is intentional today, and there are deep
circles underneath his eyes. Kurt can’t stop looking at him. 
“Have you been in there?” he asks. 
“No, I’m not sure if that would be… The nurse told me he’s awake, but…” He runs
a hand through his hair. “I didn’t even bring flowers or fruit,” he says.
Kurt bursts out laughing.
Sebastian glares at him. “What?” he snaps.
“You really can’t hide those rich boy roots, can you?” Kurt says, an amused
smile still playing on his lips, even as he gentles his tone and sits down next
to Sebastian.
“It’s only polite,” Sebastian grumbles, but he’s holding himself just a little
looser now.
They sit together for a little longer.
“I—I can go in first, if you want. And then you can go in afterwards.”
He looks over at Sebastian. Sebastian’s not looking at him, but he gives a
sharp nod.
So Kurt does.
Karofsky is sitting up and looking at him when he opens the door. For such a
big guy, he looks lost among the pristine white of the bed and the machines.
There are a couple of gifts on a side table, but not many.
“Hi, Dave,” he says.
Now he wishes he’d brought something too, just so that he’d have something to
hold. His hands hang by his side, sweaty and empty.
“Hi, Kurt,” Karofsky says in reply.
He enters the private room a step at a time.
“This is a nice room,” he says, and promptly wants to bite off his tongue.
There are times for pleasantries, and times when they’re really fucking out of
place.
“Yeah, well, they wanted to keep me under watch for the first twenty-four
hours.” He shrugged. “And then, well, to be honest, I almost went to Dalton. My
family has enough money to keep a private room.”
Kurt has absolutely no idea what to say.
Karofsky sighs.
“I appreciate you being here,” he says. “You didn’t have to, but. Thanks.”
“No—no—“ Kurt moves swiftly to Karofsky’s side. “I did. I’m sorry I didn’t try
to talk to you earlier, even though I knew what was happening. It was just that
my life was functional for the first time in so long, and for once it wasn’t
me—And it’s not an excuse, I just didn’t think—“
Karofsky grunts. “Think people’d call it karma. Would’ve been ironic, ex-
homophobic bully committing suicide because he was being bullied for being
gay.”
“That’s—no, you didn’t deserveit, Dave. Regardless of what happened in the
past—“
“Oh, right. Yeah, happens to lots of gay kids, doesn’t it. I’m just the one
that couldn’t handle it—”
“No, Dave, no,“ Kurt says, low and intense. “What you went through. No one
should go through that. No one. Ever.”
They look at each other.
“Thanks,” Karofsky says again.
“You’re welcome,” Kurt says back, because he doesn’t know what else to say. He
fidgets in place.
Kurt finally decides to get to the point of the other reason for his visit. Who
is sitting out there on the other side of the wall, likely pretending to not
feel guilty and nervous out of his mind.
“I’m not the only one here,” Kurt says, “Sebastian is outside. He wants to see
you, if you wouldn’t mind seeing him.”
Karofsky’s eyes flick to the door.
“Oh. Thought the person the nurse mentioned must’ve been you. Why’s he here?”
Kurt shrugs, uncomfortable. “I. I think he wanted to talk to you about what he
said a couple of nights ago, at the club.”
Karofsky stares at him.
“Smythe wants to apologize?” Karofsky says, and the incredulity and dark
amusement in his voice rubs Kurt the wrong way.
“It’s not like it’d be thatweird if he did,” Kurt snaps.
And then he remembers. Fragile patient. Shit.
Now Karofsky’s looking at him, a look of contemplation on his face, and Kurt’s
not sure if Karofsky’s trying to figure him out or trying to decide whether or
not to see Sebastian. He just instinctively knows Sebastian really reallyneeds
to see Karofsky today. And it’s not fair to pressure him, but Kurt is already
rambling.
 “I—look, he would never let on, but he really does want to see you. I know
you’re probably reluctant, but if you could just see him for a couple of—“
“Tell him to come in,” Karofsky cuts in. “It’s not a big deal. He said some
nasty things, but it wasn’t even approaching any of the shit I saw on the
Internet the last couple of months. So I’ll see him if he wants me to.”
“Oh. Okay,” Kurt says dumbly. “I’ll just… go and tell him.”
When he walks out, he’s in a bit of a daze, feeling like the world’s moved
around on him a second time in a span of a couple of days. Sebastian is still
sitting on one of the waiting chairs. He’s not leaning back, posture
unconsciously perfect, hands clasped in front of him so tight his knuckles are
white.
Before Sebastian can ask, Kurt says, “He says you should go in.” 
There’s a question in Sebastian’s eyes, but Kurt tips his head towards the door
as he makes his way to one of the chairs.
He doesn’t say anything else, because it’s not his place.
Sebastian stands up slowly, confidence wrapping itself around him with each
inch he rises, and Kurt’s never seen the transformation so starkly before. Kurt
hasn’t ever consciously realized, and he thinks it’s actually not the best
defense technique in this situation—Sebastian’s trying to make amends, not
impress anybody— but Kurt still marvels at the transformation.
But before he goes into the room, Sebastian turns back and looks at Kurt.
Kurt smiles. “I’ll be right here,” he says.
The door closes behind Sebastian with a soft snick.
Kurt goes down the hall to grab some water, because he knows he’s not only a
gossip queen but also a snoop, and if he stood around he would’ve risked
falling to the temptation of eavesdropping. And even he knows that conversation
isn’t for him.
But when he comes back nearly fifteen minutes later, there’s no sign of
Sebastian.
At the thirty-minute mark, the door opens and Sebastian walks out.
Kurt had already sent texts to the Warblers letting them know he and Sebastian
were going to miss rehearsal, and was resorting to madly texting his dad things
like “What are you cooking for dinner?” and “What about Carole?” and “Is Finn
and Rachel okay?” as a distraction. He had been about five minutes away from
biting his nails, which is a habit he kicked when he was six and realized one
couldn’t have gorgeous nails if one was constantly biting at them.
He looks at Sebastian, but he returns the gaze calmly. His face doesn’t betray
anything, and Kurt’s not that good at reading Sebastian yet.
“Let’s go,” Sebastian says.
When they get to the parking lot, Kurt expects him to split for his own car,
but he continues to walk with Kurt, until they’re right by David’s.
Kurt stands fiddling with the keys next to the driver’s side, Sebastian leaning
against the hood of the car. They stare across at each other, Sebastian’s eyes
steady underneath his ridiculously long lashes.
“We’re going to kick competitions to the side for two months and throw a lavish
charity concert for the Born This Way Foundation instead,” Sebastian says. “I’m
going to put together a new routine, and you’re going convince New Directions
and some of the other sad groups we compete with to put aside their one-sided
rivalry with us and participate.” 
“Okay,” Kurt says.
And it’s decided.
 
Chapter End Notes
     I got real writing done this week, so everyone gets a new chapter,
     yay! And it's kind of long!
     1. Kurt's compassion is his defining characteristic (to me,
     anyway—besides his delicious cattiness). And Sebastian, who is also
     deliciously catty, has a real journey towards compassion, even if the
     show's execution wasn't always there. It makes sense to me that is
     what would first draw Sebastian (platonically) to Kurt and trust him,
     and also the perfect vehicle to get Kurt to grasp Sebastian.
     2. I've actually often thought Dave Karofsky's entire arc is, for all
     the melodrama, shockingly moving. It might be 2016, but some things
     still hit home. I hope I did it justice. And if you have been
     affected or care about bullying or queer issues at all, consider
     looking at and supporting the The Trevor Project and the It Gets
     Better project.
     3. Thank you, collectively, for all your kudos and comments. I
     treasure each and every one, it means a lot to a recent newcomer. If
     you have any thoughts at all, let me know!
***** Fork in the Road (April, 2011) *****
Chapter Summary
     "The crowd continues its standing ovation, as he looks at the bright
     laughing faces of his boys."
     The concert happens, and Kurt realizes where he fits, and where he
     wants to stay.
Chapter Notes
     Midweek fic break! A more substantial update to come on Saturday. But
     look, they're friends now! Our love story can finally start, haha.
See the end of the chapter for more notes
Fork in the Road (April, 2011)
New Directions get off the stage, and Kurt meets them in the back. He suffers
through Rachel’s hard bouncy hug, Mercedes’s warm all-encompassing one, even
Finn’s, steady and strong. They were amazing and dazzling on stage, and
watching from the side, Kurt remembered how much freedom the group had given
him, and almost ached with the memories.
“Hummel, come on. We’re next!” he hears someone yell behind him. And yup.
That’s Sebastian’s voice.
He pats Finn on the back, and ignore his friends' look of befuddlement at his
obedience.
“I’ll see you later,” he says.
When he turns back, all the Warblers are standing in formation, although
Sebastian is turned towards him, leaning back with his hands in his pockets.
Kurt smiles at him.
And then, because he’s a little neurotic, he has to go and fix Sebastian’s tie,
which is a little crooked.
“Oi, personal space,” Sebastian says, even as he stands still for Kurt.
“Like you could fix it yourself. Honestly,” Kurt complains. “You’ve been
wearing this uniform for months. How do you still get it wrong?”
“The changing room was distracting,” he says.
They had had to share a room with New Directions, which could’ve turned out
astronomically bad but thankfully didn’t. And because Kurt appreciates
Sebastian’s compliance, he doesn’t bitch more about Sebastian’s ugly knot.
He finally steps back and pats the tie down, satisfied.
“You ready?” Sebastian says.
Kurt meets Sebastian’s tone with a smirk of his own.
“Why don’t you wait and see?” he says, and slides into the line-up.
They pool out on the stage as a unit, Sebastian stepping forward to give a few
words about the concert. Kurt thought he would be able to make out his dad and
Carole in the crowd, or even David Karofsky in his front row seat, but the
lights are too blinding for that. All he can make out is that the house is
packed.
But Kurt is a performer, and that knowledge doesn’t spread nervousness
throughout his body, it feeds the pride and excitement bubbling in him,
desperate for an outlet. And the moment Sebastian steps back into formation,
they’re off.
“The sun goes down, the star comes up, and all that counts, is here and now. My
universe, will never be the same. I’m glad you came, I’m glad you came,”
Sebastian sings.
The Warblers join him then, in harmony and rhythm. They’re brash and confident,
moving as one, throwing their voices into his, and if the song’s lyrics are a
tad too obvious, Kurt doesn’t care. He smiles as brightly as the rest of the
Warblers, sings and dances with them, and this is what the Warblers have taught
him that he didn’t know before—the thrill of being part of a unit.
The song ends, the lights flash out.
The moment they do, Kurt is tearing off his black and red blazer. Someone’s
holding up a flashlight off-stage, and Kurt moves towards it, throws on the
monstrously kitschy disco-ball of a vest the stage hand’s holding, and
scrambles up the platform, trying his best not to fall as they’re pushing it
onto the stage while they still have the cover of darkness. The beginning piano
chords are already starting, and someone rips off Kurt’s ear mic and pushes a
handheld to his hand instead.
He puts it to his mouth, takes a deep breath, and tries to keep the clenching
fear of an entire performance resting on his abilities, the cold shiver of his
body, out of his voice.
“First I was afraid, I was petrified. Keep thinking I was never going to live
without you by my side…” he starts.
As he reaches the platform’s apex, the lights flip on around him. His voice
strengthens.
“I grew strong, I knew how to get along,” he sings.
“And now you’re back!” The Warblers join in. He can hear Sebastian’s midtone
voice melding in with Nick’s higher one and Thad’s huskier voice, echoing each
other.
The song speeds, breaks out into its disco rhythm, and he’s shimmying on stage,
letting the lights catch on his glittering vest, letting his body and face and
voice move with the triumph that he feels.
“I used to cry, but now I hold my head up high. And you see me, somebody new.”
And he’s singing, and the song is fun and kitschy but he chose it for a reason,
and it might be a little too on the nose, but he hopes it reaches someone,
somebody out there—
“Did you think I’d crumble, did you think I’d lay down and die?”
And he’s not just thinking about Karofsky, but about himself, about Sebastian,
about his dad and Rachel and Mercedes and everyone who’s ever prevailed, as he
sings. And this, this invincibility, this is why he fell in love with the
stage, why he loves it still—
“I will survive,” he belts.
And the Warblers echo him.
“We will survive,” they harmonize.
And the stage plunges into darkness.
The audience roars up in applause.
He can hear whistles, wild shouts, what sounds like hundreds rising through
their feet. The crowd’s going crazy, and he’s gasping for breath, but he can’t
keep the grin off his face as the lights turn back on, and it’s absolutely
fucking blinding.
The Warblers are standing there at the front of the stage, laughing and bowing,
and Sebastian is turning back to him, the stage lights catching the blond in
his hair and the green in his eyes, and he’s smiling so so broadly.
He cocks his head to one side and reaches out a hand up to Kurt, palm splayed
wide.
And Kurt, Kurt hurdles down the center steps of the platform so fast it’s a
miracle he doesn’t fall, and he’s laughing and hot with joy as his hand grasps
Sebastian’s, and then he has no idea who pulls whom, but he’s suddenly in
Sebastian’s arms, and it’s almost a teammate hug but not, Kurt clutching
tightly at Sebastian’s neck with one hand and his mic with the other, the roar
of the crowd all around them.
“Not a bad performance, princess, ” Sebastian breathes into his ear, and Kurt
shivers from the adrenaline.
“Yeah, am I a trueborn Warbler now?” Kurt teases.
He can feel Sebastian’s smirk forming against his cheek. “Like you have to
ask,” he says, and before Kurt can do more than feel all the conversation
threads running underneath, he’s pulling back, turning his body so that Kurt
can see the audience, uniformly on their feet.
And then the moment between them breaks. Hunter pulls Sebastian farther
forward, Trent tugs him into the crush of boys. He’s slapped on the back and
hugged and leaned on, with too little attention paid to personal space. The
crowd continues its standing ovation, as he looks at the bright laughing faces
of his boys.
They raise $10,000 that night. David Karofsky comes and thanks them personally,
and while Sebastian stands looking stoic and uncomfortable, he says that it was
for all of them, not just Karofsky, and Kurt thinks Sebastian really means it.
Kurt goes into the office the next day and cancels his transfer request back to
McKinley for his senior year.
Chapter End Notes
     One thing Glee has always done well is the song staging. Obviously,
     there's only so much I can do in text, but I hope you were able to
     imagine it. It was hellishly hard. I think I listened to these song
     performances, like, 50x times. I'm also not a music buff, so choosing
     songs is SO HARD.
     The Warblers sing Glad_You_Came by The Wanted (which does actually
     happen in the show, sans Kurt, sadly).
     Kurt's solo is I_Will_Survive by the great Gloria Gaynor
***** The Teenage Landmark (June, 2011) *****
Chapter Summary
     "When they’re just sitting in the car, silence will linger between
     them. Kurt will thinks about all the things they’ve told each other
     and the dwindling and very specific numbers of things they haven’t,
     and he’ll wonder what the airless feeling in his stomach is."
     Kurt and Sebastian argue their way into being best friends, and a bit
     more. Everyone but them picks up on the tension.
Chapter Notes
See the end of the chapter for notes
The Teenage Landmark (June, 2011)
Kurt spends an inordinate amount of time with Sebastian now. There’s no point
in denying it.
He’s become used to the sight of Sebastian’s dorm room, which is precisely like
it should be, filled to the brim but organized within the clutter, smelling of
Sebastian’s cologne and his reeking lacrosse stuff, as he passes by to grab
Sebastian for food or to hang out there before practices or after practices.
Sometimes the other Warblers join him, sometimes they don’t.
He even goes to Sebastian’s lacrosse games, because Sebastian is always a bitch
after a loss, and this way he can at least have some prior notice. He spends
the time split between texting his friends and family (who still can’t quite
manage to hide their disappointment about his decision to stay at Dalton, even
if Kurt feels in his guts that it’s the right choice), slathering on sunscreen,
and trying to figure out if there’s some sort of point to the fucking violence
of lacrosse. And he thought football was bad.
Sebastian always ignores his presence, except for the end. If it ends well,
he’ll turn to where Kurt’s sitting, and he’ll grin, easy and confident, and
sometimes Kurt gets dragged along to an after party with far too much alcohol
and girls from God knows where. If it doesn’t end well, Sebastian will glare,
and they’ll eventually end up at some fast food restaurant, and Sebastian will
bitch about this or that player, and Kurt will pretend to understand.
Regardless, they head back together, so Kurt keeps on going.
They go to Scandals together again exactly once, on Kurt’s birthday at Kurt’s
request for an “adventure”. The other Warblers, even Hunter, who Kurt swears
had the best time of them all there last time, joined them for dinner and cake
early in the evening but beg off the trip to Scandals.
Thirty minutes into the night, the cops decide to do a surprise sweep.
They almost manage to sneak out, but unfortunately Sebastian’s stupidly tall
head and noticeable hair along with his alcohol intake get them caught with
their fake IDs. Kurt’s almost in hysterics thinking about what his dad’s
reaction is going to be by the time that Sebastian remembers he has a state
attorney for a dad.
They leave the station after a call and a perfunctory warning in the back of
Mr. Smythe’s car, the fake IDs confiscated and Sebastian forbidden by his dad
(sitting silent in the front passenger seat, while his driver… well, drives)
from entering Scandals again.
It’s definitely an adventure, if not the type Kurt was thinking of.
Kurt expects Sebastian to have a new fake ID the very next day. But he
surprises Kurt, yet again.
Instead, he follows his dad’s rules, sticks to the school’s social scene, and
Kurt’s bewildered but not complaining, because Sebastian spends even more time
with Kurt afterwards. They’ve always seen each other at least once every two
days, since they share the Warblers as a social circle, but now it’s every day,
with stupid text conversations and even more inane real-life conversations to
break up the day’s tedium.
Kurt chalks it up to boredom and not having anything better to do and leaves it
alone.
Finals come and go, and Kurt thanks God (and Sebastian, who made a surprisingly
efficient tutor in basically every subject) for letting him survive it. Spring
melds into summer, school ends, and he moves back home.
He practically gives himself an anxiety attack thinking about the way the
summer would unravel his newfound friendships with the other Warblers (and
particularly Sebastian, an annoying voice in the back of his head whispers).
But as it turns out, he should’ve told himself to stop being a drama queen,
because even if he doesn’t see them as often as during school, he sees them
plenty.
The thing is, they’re rich.
This means that after the first two weeks or so, where they all go off on
family vacations in exotic locations (or, in Sebastian’s case, visiting friends
and family in Paris), they spend the entire summer taking turns throwing
parties at their houses, one after the other, and inviting Kurt to them all.
So he spends the weekdays at the Lima Bean and around town with his old
McKinley friends, and on the weekends, he drives up or, more often, someone
drives down, (mostly Sebastian, in a flashy silver car that screams too-rich-
for-the-neighborhood, and Kurt has no idea how he got Kurt-babysitting duties,
but Kurt saves on gas with the arrangement, so he doesn’t touch that either),
and he’ll spend a day lazying around poolside or eating too much barbecue or
mocking trash movies with Sebastian and the rest of them.
Sometimes, like when his dad opens the door for Sebastian for the third time
that month and his mouth twists in an unhappy frown, or when Kurt and Sebastian
are done mocking some poor character on screen (“Oh my God, tell me they didn’t
intentionally foreshadow her mental breakdown with her makeup.” “Fuck the make-
up, what the hell’s up with the lobotomy the writers just gave her boyfriend?”
"Maybe his brain is broken, and that's why his Name changed. Twice." "Does that
even happen in real life?" "Of course not. Ugh, Hollywood"), or when they’re
just sitting in the car, silence will linger between them. Kurt will thinks
about all the things they’ve told each other and the dwindling and very
specific numbers of things they haven’t, and he’ll wonder what the airless
feeling in his stomach is.
One night, midway through the summer, he’s waving goodbye to Sebastian and
letting himself into his house when he sees a shadow, sitting still at the
front of the kitchen table in the darkness.
Kurt can’t help it, he just got talked into seeing his first horror movie (“to
celebrate the summer,” Hunter said. He should’ve known, the ass). He shrieks.
A door slams open and footsteps are pounding up the steps, and in three seconds
flat, Sebastian’s grasping his arm and wheezing at his side.
“What’s wrong?” he huffs out.
“Welcome home,” a voice he recognizes as his dad’s comes from the shadow,
utterly calm, like sitting in the dark alone in the kitchen at this hour of
night is perfectly natural.
Sebastian lets go of his arm.
Kurt looks anxiously at Sebastian, and Sebastian looks back.
Sebastian smirks.
“I didn’t do anything,” he mouths indignantly at Sebastian. Sebastian continues
to smirk.
“I didn’t! I’m not you!” Kurt whispers-insists.
“You can tell Smythe to leave and turn on the light, Kurt,” his dad says. Oh,
fuck, that’s his serious voice.
“Okay,” he says, a little too shrill. He flips on the lights and pushes
Sebastian out of the house, until they’re standing just before the threshold of
the door.
“Good luck, princess,” Sebastian says, a little too gleeful. Kurt shoots him a
dirty look, and then a nervous one back at where his dad is waiting.
“Go away,” he says, as he attempts to smooth down his clothes. He covertly
sniffs himself, just to make sure the smell of alcohol’s not lingering anywhere
on his body—the other boys usually drink, but not Kurt, because his dad has a
nose for these things, and not Sebastian, because he drives Kurt back—
“Hey,” Sebastian says, half-turned, like he can’t decide whether he wants to
walk or stay, “Text me, all right?”
Kurt stops sniffing himself and looks up.
“Okay,” he says, can’t help grinning at Sebastian even if he still has no idea
what he’s done to deserve a “talking-to” from his dad.
Sebastian rolls his eyes, doing a backwards wave as he ambles back to his car.
Kurt takes a deep breath and re-enters. He smiles nervously at his dad, who is
still sitting motionless in one of the kitchen chair.
“Hi, dad,” he says, “Where’s Carole and Finn?”
“Sleeping,” he says. “You came back pretty late.”
Oh. So that was it.
“I’m sorry, the party just went on a little later than usual, but I texted you
to let you know—”
“Sit, Kurt,” his dad says.
He shuts up and sits.
“We probably should have had this conversation a long time ago… I was planning
to wait until your Name manifests, but I figured it was probably time,” his dad
begins.
Nearly thirty minutes later, Kurt goes up to his room, completely embarrassed
and possibly scarred for life and with no idea how to even begin analyzing what
just happened.
The moment he’s in his room, he’s pulling out his phone and composing a
text—obviously, Sebastian knows it’s unlikely to be anything big, but the boy’s
surprisingly and frighteningly neurotic.
To: Meerkat
All clear.
He replies immediately, which is no surprise to Kurt—now, anyway. If someone
told Kurt a couple months ago Sebastian’s capable of waiting by the phone for
anything and anybody, he would’ve laughed in their face, but since then, he’s
seen that if it’s important enough to Seb… he’ll go to any lengths, and then
try twice as hard to hide his efforts.
Meerkat
What? No details? No dramatic ultimatums, no life threats, no explosive
emotions even?
To: Meerkat
I told u I didn’t do anything!
To: Meerkat
And of course not it’s my dad.
Meerkat
Exactly.
To: Meerkat
Ahahaha. Make the drama queen jokes v. original.
Meerkat
One has got to wonder, if there’s a pattern….
Also, I notice you’re still avoiding the question….  
Ugh. Kurt’s not sure how to tell Sebastian that at seventeen, he’s finally
gotten the sex talk from dad. Sebastian, who lost his virginity when he was
barely thirteen, would probably laugh himself sick. Doubly so if Kurt told him
that, according to his dad, The Talk had been originally slated for nearer to
Kurt’s eighteenth birthday, and his dad had been dutifully “preparing,” before
the statistics about teenagers having sex pre-Name had prompted him to push up
his plans.
His phone lights up. Apparently he’s waited too long.
Meerkat
You don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to.
Kurt blinks. Sebastian, notpushing?
To: Meerkat
No, thats not it. Theres not much I wouldn’t trust you—
Fuck, that was too honest. Backspace. Backspace.
To: Meerkat
No, thats not it. I just thought ud laugh. Which u will. So I guess theres no
point in me asking u not to. And if I dont tell u ur overactive imagination
would prob make up crazy theories.
Meerkat
You know me so well. Except I think you meant brilliant mind. Spill.
To: Meerkat
My dad gave me the talk.
Pause. Kurt’s starting to fidget by the time his phone goes off again.
Meerkat
I’m sorry, I accidentally dropped my phone while clutching my stomach, it was
hurting so much from laughing.
To: Meerkat
I love how ur defying expectations there.
Meerkat
You know it.
God knows, Kurt does. He can’t help laughing at the silliness of it as he
throws himself on his bed. He feels like a normal teenage boy, embarrassed by
his dad, going through the normal life landmarks like The Sex Talk, and
texting—Well. Texting.
Meerkat
How was it?
To: Meerkat
I’m seventeen, and my v. straight dad was trying to give me sex safety advice
in bw talking about respect and healthy relationships and trying to refrain
from telling me to abstain until I’m old and married. What do u think?
Meerkat
So lower on the scale of embarrassing than a “Here’s a box of condoms, and
lube. Yada yada I noticed you were eying that pretty boy Lucas, he’s gay don’t
worry, yada yada. Oh, Sebastian, sex is wonderful, when it’s good it’s even
more intoxicating than the best wines from the orchard.”
Kurt has to read that super long text twice, just to understand. Then once
again to verify that yes, that was Seb’s sex talk, bless his mère. And then a
fourth time, just so that he could laugh himself hoarse. 
He’s still chuckling as he types out a response. 
To: Meerkat
Lower. Definitely lower. And if u couldn’t read that pause I was laughing at u.
Also, that explains a lot.
Meerkat
Fuck you.
To: Meerkat
u wish.
Fuck. No. Backspace. Backspace. If Sebastian thinks Kurt is flirting—and
please, as if Kurt would ever—he’d think relationship and run for the winds.
To: Meerkat
What, swearing already? Am I too good for ur comebacks to handle?
Meerkat
More like it’s way too late for me to expend the effort. Why the fuck do you
live so far away?
To: Meerkat
Because I was born poor. Duh.
Meerkat
Oh. Right. It’s easy to forget, what with your expensive moisturizing routine.
To: Meerkat
Excuse me, you should be thanking it for my porcelain skin. Without it, u
wouldnt be able to call me princess.
Meerkat
Oh. Right. Well, there’s always Gayface.  
Kurt laughs again. He types out a couple of responses, deletes them all,
thinks, scrolls back to Sebastian’s text about hissex talk, and can’t help
giggling as he re-reads it.
To: Meerkat
Thanks, Meerkat.
Sebastian, of course, doesn’t ask, “for what.”
Meerkat
Night, Princess.
Kurt goes to sleep that night smiling, and puts the conversation out of his
mind as an embarrassing but ultimately harmless memory.
Chapter End Notes
     BURT. I love Burt SO much. Mwahahahahaha. He knows something our boys
     don't.
     I also totally do not buy Sebastian the Ice Queen characterization.
     That is one boy with literally zero chill, considering the overly
     dramatic way he responds to Blaine's rejection and Kurt and just
     everything, even if he pretends he's Too. Cool. For. School. Classic
     teenage boy, ugh, I like writing his face so much.
     Also I suck at AO3 so let me know if someone knows of a better way to
     format our stupid text sequences. If I were a better author I'd mock
     up text pictures.
***** The Pressure of Rich Boys (August, 2011) *****
Chapter Summary
     "Sebastian comes closer to Kurt, his hair mussed and his cheek red
     from where Kurt assumes it’s been pressed against a pillow. He’s in
     his boxers and a tight undershirt, and oh God, he’s close enough that
     Kurt can make out his nipples, pointed from the cold air of the
     kitchen. Kurt’s mouth waters, and he thinks someone up there hates
     him."
     Everyone gets with the program way before Sebastian and Kurt does—and
     then suddenly, they're there, and Kurt makes a decision, eyes wide-
     open.
Chapter Notes
     Heads up for those not expecting it so far given the strong T-ness of
     what came before, but this fic finally earns that Explicit tag I gave
     it at the beginning. Sorry for the wait folks, it's still not going
     to be awfullyyyy explicit (though I do have some plans moving
     forward).
     Nothing particularly triggery, except maybe Alcoholic Influence (but
     strongly in the realm of enthusiastic consent, and Seb being very
     respectful).
See the end of the chapter for more notes
The Pressure of Rich Boys (August, 2011)
They’re sprawled out on the grass, in the back lawn of Sebastian’s house.
Kurt’s feeling pleasantly full, watching the way the light moves along the
surface of the pool.
“These lights are awesome,” he hears Hunter slur, and Kurt giggles. He’s glad
his choice was proven right. He’d pressured Sebastian to put them up ever since
their last party here, when he had realized what a travestyit was that such a
great entertaining space wasn’t even properly equipped with the lighting for
it.  
“Yeah, well, thank Princess over there. Apparently he’s actually quite handy
around the house,” Sebastian drawls. He chugs the rest of his solo cup, and
when he upends it and a sad single drop fall onto the lush grass, pouts. His
lower lip glistens in the dim light.
“I’m a mechanic’s son,” Kurt points out, smiling beatifically. “Unlike you.”
Sebastian simultaneously scowls and winces, as if he can still feel the bruise
he got from accidentally hammering himself. Kurt laughs at him.
He feels light as air. He knows that’s partially because of the alcohol he’s
imbibed already, because tonight is one of the rare nights he’s gotten
permission from his dad to stay over (Not that his dad was very happy with it,
especially after he heard the party this week was at Sebastian’s house. Kurt
has no idea what Sebastian’s done to piss off his dad—although he supposes his
general reputation and unpopularity among New Directions might be enough).
He also knows it’s mostly because this summer has been the most perfect he’s
ever had. It makes tonight all the more bittersweet, because the night air is
cool, and summer is undeniably winding down. There are only a couple more weeks
before they head back to Dalton.
Today’s party, at Sebastian’s house, is the last.
Kurt doesn’t know if he’s ever been this happy, and he’s afraid this height of
happiness is something he can never climb back up to.
“Let’s play truth or dare,” Hunter says suddenly, picking up an empty vodka
bottle from the ground. 
Drunken hollers of agreement greet Hunter’s proclamation. 
Sebastian looks halfway between annoyed and indulgent, but he nudges Kurt with
an elbow until he groggily sits up and joins the circle of boys on the
flagstone patio, next to Sebastian.
“All right, person who spins poses the challenge or question. Person the bottle
points to answers. Easy-peasy. If you don’t get it, you’re an idiot,” Hunter
says, as he places the empty bottle in the middle on the circle.
Kurt frowns.
“Wait, hold on, isn’t this the set-up for ‘spin the bottle’? The kissing game?”
Hunter points at Kurt—or tries to—he drunkenly tilts towards Sebastian instead.
“What’d I say about idiots, man?” he says.
Wes rolls his eyes and tugs Hunter roughly down onto the flagstone and next to
him in the circle. His ass makes a hard sound as it hits the flagstone, and
Kurt giggles. He hopes it hurts tomorrow.
“I’ll go first!” Nick says, reaching for the bottle and spinning it
enthusiastically.
Sebastian’s leaning over and whispering, “Have you never played this before?”
Kurt shrugs. “No, actually. I didn’t have a lot of friends growing up.
Especially after my mom died,” he says, quiet and a little too honest.
Sebastian smiles at him. He looks back at the circle. “Yeah, me neither. Not
after I moved to Paris, anyway. And the boys I was with weren’t into games.” He
pauses. “Not thesegames anyway.”
He leans back on a hand. The bottle’s landed on David, who looks horrified at
Nick’s request that he do a strip dance and ruin his gravitas. “I went to
middle school with most of these idiots, before then,” Sebastian says.
Kurt subtly presses his arm against Sebastian’s.
The boys roar, suddenly, and Kurt turns back to watch in amusement as a couple
of drunk Warblers in acapella croon out a song distinctly smacking of “strip
tease.” David, cringing but game, starts thrusting and swaying his hips, slowly
working off his shirt. Kurt’s actually impressed, both by David and the boys
who are managing to carry a tune while drunk to the heavens.
“Huh. You think he does it for his girlfriend?” Sebastian asks, looking on
intently.
Kurt rolls his eyes and slaps him lightly on the shoulder, even though he’s
following the movement of David’s hips with just as much idle interest.
But when David’s down to his boxers and the boys are still catcalling, “Take it
off! Take it off!”, David begs off between big gulping laughs. He gathers his
clothes and retreats back to the circle’s fringes to put them back on. The
boys, including Sebastian and Kurt, whistle and clap. Kurt's smile is wide
enough that his cheeks hurt.
 “I’m next,” Hunter declares. Everyone collectively roll their eyes, but they
let him. He sways towards the bottle, and gives it a hard spin. It turns and
turns and turns, slowing down at Kurt… and onto Sebastian.
 “Sebbie!” Hunter says, delighted.
Kurt’s inexplicably annoyed at the nickname, especially when Sebastian just
looks at Hunter in amusement and says, “Yes, Hunter?”
 “Truth or dare?” Hunter asks cheerfully.
 "Dare,” Sebastian says without pausing.
“Hmmmm….” Hunter says, but his eyes have that gleam in them, and Kurt knows
he’s already decided what it is he wants.
Kurt tenses.
“In honor of the previous question, I dare you…” Hunter says, slowly, “… to
kiss one of us.”
His eyes flit for just a second towards Kurt.
Kurt stills.
And so, too, do all the Warblers. Trent kneels up and makes to move, but Wes
puts a hand on Trent’s shoulder, though he’s also looking at Hunter with slit
eyes.
Kurt doesn’t know what Sebastian’s reaction is, because he can’t bear to look.
“Okay,” Sebastian says, easily.
And for a wild second, Kurt’s mind short-circuits.
He thinks madly, that Sebastian just agreed to kiss him, that he’s going to
turn right this moment and press his lips to Kurt’s.
But then Sebastian is unfolding his limbs and languorously rising from the
grass, and Kurt knows suddenly, where this is going. He can see Sebastian’s
smile, daring and dangerous; Hunter’s disappointed face morphing into an
impressed expression, as he stands right there, his eyes trained on Sebastian;
the Warblers relaxing back in their spot, some of them even starting to
catcall.
Sebastian reaches Hunter and smirks, and Hunter returns it. Seb rolls his eyes,
but steadies Hunter’s face with both hands, and then he’s leaning in and—no,
no, no no no. That’s wrong,Kurt’s mind screams, and Kurt’s scrambling up from
the grass and into the middle of the circle.
He grabs Sebastian’s shirt with one hand, turns Sebastian’s head by the neck
roughly by the other, and smashes their lips together, his eyes opened wide and
registering the look of shock on Sebastian’s face.
Before the look can fade, Kurt’s already letting him go and taking a couple of
steps back, breathing harshly and pressing shaking fingers to his lips. The
entire circle is motionless, though he catches plenty of expressions best
described as the bastardized child of delighted and horrified. Hunter looks
amused. Sebastian is just blinking at him, blinking, blinking.
“Right. Dare accomplished.” Kurt says. He gives a weak laugh, which turns a
little shrill at the end.
“I, I think I’m drunk,” he says inanely.
Sebastian is still looking at him.
But Trent—Thank God for kind, sweet Trent—is stepping forward, clapping him by
the shoulder and steering him gently towards the house. Kurt stumbles after
him. Behind him, he hears David and Wes, having apparently taken control and
alternating between reprimanding Hunter and ordering the rest to clean up.
Trent and he make their way through the house and up to Kurt’s single
guestroom, because Sebastian’s house is ginormous like that, and Trent looks
everywhere but at Kurt.
“I’m drunk,” Kurt says again.
“Right, yeah,” Trent says, rubbing at the back of his neck.
Kurt wants to laugh hysterically, except he’s not sure why. It feels like it’s
his first kiss, which on some level makes some sense, as his previous
experience consists solely of Mercedes and Dave Karofsky, neither of which
really counted; but on another level, no sense at all, because thosekisses had
actually lasted longer and with more contact than the one Kurt had just had
with Sebastian. Or, forced onto him, to be more precise. He wonders if
Sebastian feels the same way Kurt did, after Karofsky kissed him, and oh God,
Kurt feels terrible.
Trent seems to be able to read it on his face. He pats Kurt on the back again.
“Don’t worry about it, Kurt,” he says, “I mean, Sebastian was willing to kiss
Hunter, so he probably doesn’t care much about the kiss.”
Apparently Kurt’s expression doesn’t react the way he expects, because he adds
hastily, “How it happened anyway. I mean, I’m sure he cares it’s you, we’ve all
been waiting ages—” Kurt stares at him, feeling too drunk again“—I’m going to
shut up now,” Trent peters out.
Kurt doesn’t disagree.
They part at the guestroom’s door and Kurt lets himself in with a heavy sigh.
He moves through his routine as quickly as possible, looking forward to when he
can just burrow his head into the pillow and let the alcohol lull him into a
carefree sleep.
But when he’s finally in bed, every trace of his alcohol-induced haze seems to
have evaporated, and he’s left twisting in bed, unable to shut off his head.
He’s a fucking idiot who shouldn’t have done what he did, and he still has no
idea why he even did it.
No, that’s a lie, he does know, but it’s stupid, and he’sstupid, because it’s
obviously not going to work out, because Sebastian’s Sebastian and Kurt’s Kurt
and for God’s sake, their Nameshaven’t even manifested, Kurt has no idea what
the fuck he was thinking. Everyone knows pre-name relationships are a recipe
for disaster and heartbreak.
Not that they’re going to get anywhere near a relationship, of course, because,
well.
And now they’re back to the whole Sebastian being Sebastian issue.
Kurt tosses and turns as he thinks. He doesn’t know how best to react to
Sebastian tomorrow. Maybe he won’t remember and they can go on like usual.
Kurt could apologize, right? But wouldn’t that make it more awkward? And Kurt
would have to lie, because he might regret the kiss but he doesn’t regret
stopping Hunter from kiss Sebastian, because. Ugh. Hunter  
He ignores the voice that tells him it’s not the Hunter part that’s the issue,
but the Sebastian kissing someone else part that’s the problem.
An hour later, he throws back the blankets, sweaty and frustrated, thoughts
still smothering him, and stomps down the hallway and into the kitchen.
The water he pours himself feels blissful pressed to his cheek and down his
parched throat, and he gulps it down gratefully as he drops into a kitchen
chair.
The problem is… The problem is that Sebastian is like his fucking house.
Kurt laughs bitterly, because he can remember the way this house felt, the
first time he walked into it, cold and grand and foreign and absolutely dead.
But now lights he’s helped installed are out in the patio, and Kurt knows all
the rooms, can greet Mr. Smythe warmly and navigate all the cabinets and point
people to where the Smythes store the alcohol and warn them away from the
family heirlooms.
The house is still big. Still lavish. But it feels warm now. Familiar.
Beloved.  
Sebastian has in less than a year so enmeshed himself in Kurt’s life that he
can’t imagine it without him in it anymore, doesn’t want to. And it doesn’t
make any sense and it hasn’t been easy, but it’s the truth.
“Hey there, Princess. Thinking hard?” a voice says, and Kurt whips his head up,
barely managing to not shatter the glass in his grip as he stares up into
Sebastian’s amused face.
For the first time since they’ve met, he has absolutely no response.
Sebastian comes closer to Kurt, his hair mussed and his cheek red from where
Kurt assumes it’s been pressed against a pillow. He’s in his boxers and a tight
undershirt, and oh God, he’s close enough that Kurt can make out his nipples,
pointed from the cold air of the kitchen. Kurt’s mouth waters, and he thinks
someone up there hates him.
“Couldn’t sleep?” Seb asks.
Kurt manages to move his tongue at last.
“No,” he says, and he sounds hoarse even to his own ears.
“Me neither,” Sebastian says.
And then he’s tilting Kurt up and leaning in, and Kurt is surging forward to
meet him. Their lips smash together horribly, they’re too frantic, but then
Sebastian turns his head and adjusts Kurt’s own with an idle hand, and that has
no right to be as hot as it actually is, and the kiss turns, oh God, the kiss
turns perfect, so perfect it takes Kurt’s breath away.
Sebastian is backing Kurt up, and before Kurt realizes it, he’s flush against
the refrigerator, the stainless steel cool against his back and Sebastian
blazing against his front. Sebastian’s tongue is pressing for entrance, and
Kurt has no idea what he’s doing, but he opens, and it’s so slick and messy,
and Kurt’s seen kisses on T.V., has surreptitiously watched porn and then
completely wiped his computer’s memory for fear of being caught out by his dad,
but nothing had prepared him for this. He didn’t think kisses could be this
intense, has no idea if they’re all like this or if only Sebastian’s are.
Kurt pushes his tongue blindly into Sebastian’s mouth, trying to respond to
Sebastian’s passion with his own, but suddenly Sebastian’s pulling back. Kurt’s
head follows him instinctively, but he can feel Sebastian smile against his
lips, the bastard. Seb nips reproachfully at Kurt’s bottom lip, and he stills.
Then and only then, apparently satisfied, does Sebastian tease Kurt’s lips open
again, firmly sliding his tongue into Kurt’s mouth like it belongs there. They
kiss for another beat, two, and Kurt’s feeling pleasantly lost in a warm haze
again when Seb winds their tongues together and sensuously, lazily, coaxes
Kurt’s into his own mouth again.
Kurt suddenly realizes Sebastian is giving him a practical demonstration on
kissing, and has to concentrate not to come on the spot.
This task becomes impossibly harder in the next moment, when Sebastian presses
a knee between Kurt’s legs, which fall apart of their own accord, and Oh. Now
they’re perfectly aligned from head to toe. He can feel Sebastian hot and heavy
against him, and he’s the first person Kurt has ever been this close to, and
Kurt will dare absolutely fucking anyone to feel that amazingheat and not make
the little upward thrust that he makes with his hips.
Sebastian groans, this sexy little noise that Kurt swallows with his next
breath.
He winds both hands into Sebastian’s hair, and Sebastian puts one hand on
Kurt’s lower back and the other on his ass, and they pull each other impossibly
closer, their kiss unbroken. Sebastian pushes against him, and the friction is
so fucking good, and Kurt pushes back, and they kiss and push and kiss and
push. Kurt breaks away to give a horrifying little whine
Sebastian takes that as cue to move from his lips to his neck. He attacks with
ferocious energy, and Kurt gasps, leaning back and baring his neck for him. He
looks up at the ceiling, watching the kitchen lights shatter, starting to feel
the tell-tale shiver up his spine. He has no idea why he was stopping himself
from this, it was such a great idea, he can’t wait to tease Sebastian tom—
He suddenly remembers. Why he couldn’t sleep, why he was worried, why he wasn’t
going to let himself take this step no matter how much every inch of him
yearned.
He frantically pushes Sebastian away with both hands, biting his lips and
forcing back the orgasm that was just out of his reach. It fucking physically
hurts, he finally gets the meaning of blue balls.
Sebastian stops immediately. He goes, reluctant and bewildered.
He’s standing two steps from Kurt, and that’s close, but not as close as Kurt’s
body wants him and—Kurt tells his body firmly to be quiet because it’s the
least of his concerns right now.
“What’s wrong?” Sebastian asks, his eyes flicking around on Kurt’s face, as if
he can read the reason there.
“I—we shouldn’t do this—“ Kurt says, and he sounds unconvincing even to
himself. “You’re drunk—I’m drunk—we haven’t thought this through—"
“I’ve thought it through hundreds of times,” Sebastian says huskily, and Kurt
shivers.
“I. Yeah. Me. Me too,” he admits reluctantly, to both Sebastian and himself. He
remembers how whichever model he’s picked for that night would always morph, on
the border between arousal and orgasm, into a familiar figure with brown-blond
hair and sharp green eyes and a glinting smirk. “But that’s not a reason to do
it.”
“I’m not drunk. And you’re not either. Are you?” Sebastian says.
Kurt shakes his head no, because he’s feeling entirely wide-awake in
Sebastian’s presence.
“I want this. You want this. And now that I know that, I can’t pretend I don’t.
We’ve both thought about it and we’re both sober enough to make the decision.
What’s the problem?” Sebastian asks. He rakes his hands up and down Kurt’s
sides, and fuck, Kurt can’t think when he does that. He had a legitimate
reason, he knows—
“The problem is tomorrow,” he says finally, triumphantly, “The problem is
what’s this is going to be, between us, afterwards. What it’s going to be after
we turn eighteen.
Sebastian leans in and his eyes glimmer, audacious and reckless with emotions
so messy and dark Kurt has no chance of deciphering but feels himself answering
anyway.
“Whatever we want it to be,” he whispers.
And then he’s latching back onto Kurt’s lips.
Kurt’s resolve, weak even before, crumbles entirely.
He wraps himself tight around Sebastian and lets Sebastian devours him, lets
his own wild emotions pour into the desperate clutch of hands and lips.
Sebastian turns his head after awhile. He breathes out against Kurt’s cheek,
“Bed.”
Kurt nods and nods and pulls Sebastian frantically towards Sebastian’s bedroom,
which he knows is closer. They’re not letting go of each other, and so the move
there is slow and awkward, but finally, finally, Kurt’s turning the doorknob
and they’re falling into the room and onto the bed. The door closes behind them
with a bang, but Sebastian’s already put his mouth back to good use and Kurt
doesn’t give a damn.
“Off,” Sebastian says against his lips, as he tries to simultaneously tug
Kurt’s undershirt up and his briefs down, and Kurt’s nodding again. He’s
leaning back to tug off his shirt when his dad pops into his head.
It’s horrendous timing, and would kill his erection if he weren’t so gone
already. He sees his dad in his head, standing next to him at the very end of
their talk, staring so seriously into his eyes as he spoke that Kurt thought
his dad must’ve been trying to brand his words into Kurt’s brain by sheer force
of will.
“But when you’re ready, I want you to use it as a way to connect with another
person,”his dad had said.
He gets it, suddenly. What the conversation earlier in the summer was about.
What his dad foresaw that ended up hitting Kurt like a bulldozer.
“Kurt?” Sebastian asks. Kurt’s dad dissipates, and he refocuses on Sebastian’s
face, the downturned tilt of his lips. He sounds hesitant now, for the first
time since they saw each other in the kitchen. “Do you want to stop? Because we
can.”
Kurt looks at Sebastian, lips kissed red and swollen, his face etched with
concern, and he thinks about all the dreams he used to have, about a first
night with a steady boyfriend after months of flirting and courting. The room
would’ve been filled with candles and rose petals, soft music playing in the
background.
But Kurt knows.
He knows he’s ready now, and this is the person he wants it with.
He shakes his head, pulls off his shirt, pulls off his briefs too while he’s at
it.
He thinks he hears Sebastian’s breath catch, he’s not entirely sure, because
Sebastian is bracketing Kurt’s body with his legs and hands and kissing his
breath away again.
And then he’s sliding down Kurt’s body, and Kurt thinks he knows where this is
going, but it still doesn’t prepare him for the dry hand that’s just a little
bit bigger than his wrapping around him firmly, the first touch of somebody
other than himself and his doctor, and he thinks he’s in heaven.
Until something hot and slick swipes up him, from root to tip, and Oh, God,he
thinks.
“Don’t throw yourself around, like you don’t matter. ‘Cause you matter,
Kurt,”he hears his dad say tenderly in his head, and he can’t help laughing at
how absurd but rightly-timed the echo is, because Sebastian’s touching him
right now with so much gentleness.
It’s funny, because Kurt knows about all the boys he’s been with, knows just
where his confidence in bed comes from, but he doesn’t care, because Sebastian
is looking at and touching him with so much reverence that Kurt believes with
his whole heart that right now, just like the only person that Kurt could be
here like this with is Sebastian, the only person that Sebastian could be here
like this with is Kurt.
Surely this is what his dad meant, about being cherished, about connecting.
Sebastian is still licking, and Kurt is starting to make all these inane moans.
He’s never felt so out-of-control and freebefore in his life, helpless in
Sebastian’s hands. He bites down hard on his forearm, remembering the other
Warblers down the hall.
Sebastian notices, of course he does.
He looks up at Kurt, and Kurt looks down at him, and then Sebastian grins.He
presses Kurt’s hips back onto the bed firmly with both hands, ducks, and takes
the entire head into his mouth.
Kurt loses all control—he throws his arm back and shouts himself hoarse.
He can practically feel Sebastian smiling around the cock in his mouth, as he,
well, shows off. He does all these tricks.These patterns with his tongue, the
way he’ll sometimes just pause and hold, the way he’ll hum and swallow around
Kurt until Kurt makes these sounds, the way he’ll move up and down and then
down down down until it’s so tight that Kurt thinks he’s going to die, and most
of all, the way he’ll pop off at the very last fucking moment and won’t let
Kurt come.
“Seb, Seb,” Kurt begs, finally. “Come on, Seb, please.” Because if he takes any
more of this he’s going to faint.
“Already?” Seb says, smirking from where he’s perched between Kurt’s legs with
his spit-slicked lips, unbearably sexy. His right hand continues their slide up
and down. “So soon? It hasn’t even been 5 minutes.”
Kurt can’t help it, he throws his hand blindly back and chucks the first pillow
he latches onto at Sebastian’s head.
“I’m a virgin, you asshole!” he yells. “Stop fucking laughing, you bastard! You
can play some other time, get to the fucking point, what are you even—Oh God,
oh fuck”—he falls back down on the bed and tries his best to not thrash
uncontrollably, because Seb does stop laughing, and throws himself back into it
like he’s suddenly discovered he’s starving.
“Seb, Seb, Oh God, Seb,” Kurt sobs, his throat now too hoarse to shout. “I—I
can’t, Seb, oh, ah, ah ah—ah hah—“
He can’t get anything articulate out, but Sebastian gets it, there’s suddenly a
thumb rubbing at the crease between his hip and thigh, coaxing, gentle,
permission. Kurt sobs out a final, “Seb,” and comes hard, shuddering again and
again and again, into the wet heat of Sebastian’s mouth.
When he comes too, Sebastian is leaning over the bedside table, grimacing and
pulling out three four tissues from the box and pressing them to his mouth.
Kurt looks on dazedly, wondering what the fuck Sebastian is doing and why he’s
not lying down right next to Kurt, until—
“You can’t swallow!” Kurt croaks out, just a tad too gleeful, still coasting
the high of his orgasm and delighted to discover that yes, there is something
sexual Sebastian is bad at.
“Oh fuck you, it’s not like I do this often without a condom,” he snipes back,
chucking the tissues down onto the floor and throwing himself down onto the
bed.
He’s pouting a little, and it’s adorable, and Kurt can’t help sliding over and
into his warmth, even though he’s almost a hundred percent sure Sebastian
Smythe doesn’t cuddle.
He kisses Sebastian’s lips, soft and sweet. “Thank you,” Kurt whispers. Because
that was his first time, and Sebastian knew it, and it may not have been the
romantic first he envisioned, but it was sexy and fun and kind, and the warm
feeling that’s suffusing every limb of Kurt’s body is exactly as he envisioned
it would be.
He pulls backs after a moment and licks his lips. There’s something salty on
it, a tang. Belatedly, he realizes that’s his own come.
His cock gives a hard jerk, and he groans because it hurts—he’s seventeen, not
inhuman.
Sebastian smirks, correctly reading Kurt, and he leans in for an open-mouthed
kiss that Kurt thinks ought to gross him out but that he falls into
enthusiastically instead.
When their lips finally separate, he can feel Sebastian rubbing up and down his
thigh, hard and hot. Kurt takes a leaf from Sebastian’s book and sucks on
Sebastian’s lower lip.
“What do you want me to do?” he breathes against his mouth.
Sebastian takes a shuddering breath, and Kurt doesn’t know whether he feels
more powerful or more enchanted right now.
“Hands,” Sebastian says, “Hands are the easiest.” He climbs up and between
Kurt’s legs as he pulls off his boxers, and getting it, Kurt hurriedly raises
himself up and against the bedframe, so that Sebastian can slot right in, his
back to Kurt’s front.
From this vantage point, it’s easy to look down, so Kurt lets himself, his
hands tight around Sebastian’s waist. He does a mental comparison and realizes
that yes, Sebastian’s reputation is definitely deserved.
“Are you going to touch it, or are you going to keep on looking?” Sebastian
asks.
Kurt takes a sharp breath. He makes to touch it, but Seb intercepts his hands
and brings it to his mouth instead.
“Not yet,” he whispers, and then he gives a broad lick up Kurt’s palm, and if
he keeps that up, Kurt is going to be hard again in no time.
“There,” Sebastian says, and he puts their hands together and bring them both
down on his cock. He moves Kurt’s hand with his own once, up, down, and then
leaves Kurt to his own devices. “Like that. Like you do to yourself,
but—Ah—not.”
Kurt rolls his eyes, because that’s very instructive. But he does as he’s told
by Sebastian, just this once. It really is like masturbating, but not really.
Sebastian feels different in his hand—a different size and tilt and color and
even shape, a little. He moves up, down, up, down, his eyes following the
hypnotizing movement.
Sebastian is breathing hot and heavy. Sometimes he angles their heads together
for a breathless kiss, but mostly he just makes these insanely distracting
groans against Kurt’s neck, and Kurt almost wishes he could push Sebastian’s
head away, so that he could hear them ring out in the room, rich and unmuffled.
Kurt twists his hand at the end, because he likes that, and Sebastian give a
little thrust, groaning. Kurt does it again, and Sebastian is starting to
tremble against him, his breaths coming out in pants, and Kurt knows he’s
close.
He kisses Sebastian hungrily, thinking about what it is that throws himover the
edge, and. His left hand slides from where it’s smoothing along the lines of
Sebastian’s abs down down, past his right hand to cup Sebastian’s balls.
Sebastian makes an incoherent noise into Kurt’s mouth. Kurt kisses back harder,
slides even farther back.
He presses two fingers just behind, hard, as his hands give another twist, and
that’s it, Sebastian’s breaking away and rolling his eyes back, his face
scrunched up in ecstatic pain, gasping out a breathless “Fuck.”
Sebastian thrusts up again and again through Kurt’s lax fist, and there’s
something wet sliding all down Kurt’s hand, and Kurt would feel bad about
forgetting to coax him through the rest of his orgasm except he’s too busy
searing the sight of Sebastian in this moment into his brain.
By the time that Sebastian’s done and catching his breath, Kurt’s no longer
staring dazedly at Sebastian with his mouth open. He recovers enough to grab
some tissues and dab at his hands and Sebastian as best as he can, and then
throws them off the side of the bed to deal with in the morning.
The room reeks of sex,Kurt thinks, awed.
But now that clean-up is done, Kurt isn’t sure what to do with himself.
He doesn’t feel awkwardexactly, but he feels uncertain, and it stands in sharp
contrast to how naturaland easywhat they just did was. He doesn’t know what the
correct behavior is, if he should stay or leave, and he doesn’t exactly think
Sebastian would kick him out, but—
Sebastian pulls his heavy and sticky self off of Kurt, and throws his briefs at
his chest. “You should probably put that on again, sleeping naked with someone
else is actually pretty fucking awkward,” he says, “Not to mention being caught
naked in bed by someone else. I’d rather avoid the possibility, if you don’t
mind.”
He nods, relieved, and obediently puts his briefs back on. On the other side of
the bed, Sebastian is doing the same, stripping off his sweat-soaked undershirt
and putting back on his boxers. He’s gorgeous and bronze in the glow of the
outdoor lights, and Kurt feels lust rolling through him again, but it’s lazy
and comfortable, post-coital. He pulls the blankets up around him and makes
room for Sebastian in bed.
When they’re lying side-by-side, not cuddling but not very far apart, close
enough that Kurt can practically feel the heat radiating off of Sebastian, he
looks and looks at the back of Sebastian’s neck and hears the rest of his dad’s
words repeat in his head.
“You know, it’s doing to something… to you, to your heart, to your self-
esteem,” his dad's echo murmurs in his head, again.
“Go to sleep,” Sebastian gripes, his voice strangely loud in the hazy darkness.
“I know I just blew your virgin mind—literally—but I can feel your stare, and
it’s fucking creepy. The earlier you go to sleep, the earlier you can get a
repeat."
Kurt pushes at Sebastian’s back in retaliation, but not very hard, and he ends
up with his hands resting against Sebastian’s back, letting its rise and fall
lull him. When he closes his eyes, he feels Sebastian’s touch staining his skin
and the truth of his dad’s words sinking into his bones.
Chapter End Notes
     Soooo—*blushing*—this is my first explicit scene, and apparently fic
     has been really instructive because I didn't have to look up
     anything. By the same token, it may or may not be at all accurate to
     how real sex works. But enjoy it, because I embarrassed myself
     writing it. Let me know your thoughts, I'm SUPER nervous about this
     chapter!
     Burt's speech is actually lifted directly from the show, though of
     course he wasn't referring to Sebastian on Glee.
***** Everything After (August, 2011) *****
Chapter Summary
     "They still go to practices, to games, to parties together, still
     hang out in Sebastian’s room before and after and whenever else they
     have downtime—only now, in between study sessions and musical
     brainstorm sessions and conversation sessions and vegetating
     sessions, Kurt learns from Sebastian the fine art of gay sex and
     Sebastian learns Kurt’s body and how to best make him insane."
     Sebastian and Kurt continue to be best friends, except they sleep
     together now, and that manages to change nothing at all and also
     everything.
Chapter Notes
See the end of the chapter for notes
Everything After (August, 2011)
He doesn’t get his promised repeat in the morning.
Sebastian’s alarm goes off at seven, because Sebastian says he’s a dedicated
athlete and Kurt says he’s masochistic. Kurt wakes up to the sight of
Sebastian’s shoulders flexing as he reaches over to swat at the alarm. His head
is throbbing angrily at him, but it’s still a wonderful morning.
It gets even better when Sebastian turns back and catches his eyes. Both their
breaths seem to catch for a moment, and then Sebastian is leaning into him,
smooth and easy, and Kurt arches back as Sebastian scores his neck.
“I’d give you a good-morning kiss,” Sebastian says, his morning voice low and
hoarse, “but something tells me you’re the type to queen out over morning
breath."
Kurt lets out a breathless laugh, but doesn’t correct him, because he’s right.
“Raincheck?” he asks, tangling his hands in Sebastian’s hair. Their eyes meet.
“Fine,” Sebastian says, punctuating his word with a final open-mouthed kiss to
Kurt’s neck. He rolls off the bed and winks at Kurt. “Shower fun when I get
back from my jog?”
Kurt ignores him and goes looking for his shirt instead. He finds it discarded
somewhere on the floor, next to the… tissues from last night, which he collects
with a grimace and throws in the trash can.
“You can have some fun alone,” he says, because they both know Sebastian isn’t
really serious. Kurt has to go get ready himself (though he might cut his
routine short and nurse his hangover for a half hour in bed instead, he thinks,
wincing). By the time Sebastian is back the other boys are likely to be up and
about, and there’ll be breakfast and Sebastian’s dad and the ride back to Lima.
“Too bad,” Sebastian says as he makes his way to his bedroom’s en-suite, but as
Kurt expected, he doesn’t push.
Kurt pauses with his hand on the door handle. “See you then?” he says.
Sebastian turns, and they both know there’s a lot they’re not saying to each
other, and probably won’t say.
He smiles, warm and flirty, but the right corner is a touch too crooked to be
completely at ease. Kurt smiles back, a little helplessly.  
He lets himself out.
Breakfast two hours later is uncharacteristically quiet. Kurt spends his time
trying to ignore the curious, and in some cases downright disappointed, stares
of the remaining Warblers (Hunter, for example, had entered the room all but
rubbing his hands together, and ended up looking like someone had stolen his
puppy).
Sebastian spends it sprawled in one of the living room’s wingback chairs, a
coffee mug in his hands and his hair damp from what Kurt assumes is the shower
he took when he got back, idly watching the Super Smash Bros game being played.
He looks so loose and decadent that Kurt thinks back to telling Sebastian to
have some ‘fun’ alone, wonders if he actually did, and eats breakfast flushed
and uncomfortable.
He doesn’t know if this many thoughts about sex are normal after the first
time, or if it’s just what happens when he’s no longer viciously repressing his
attraction to Sebastian.
The drive back to Lima is also quiet. It’s just Sebastian and Kurt in the car,
as usual, because deviation would’ve been an obvious sign, and because after
breakfast Kurt had looked at Sebastian and Sebastian had looked at Kurt, and
Sebastian had gone to get his keys.
They’re soon pulling up at Kurt’s house. Kurt turns his head to look at it. It
looks exactly the same, and of course it is, it’s only been a night. It’s only
Kurt that feels different.
“Kurt,” Sebastian says.
Kurt turns, and Sebastian’s devouring his lips without so much as a please.
Kurt groans and pulls him closer with a hand on his neck. Their tongues mingle,
slick and hot.
They finally split apart after God knows how much time has passed. Sebastian
has his satisfied cat face on.
“There. Your rain check,” he says.
Kurt has no idea what Sebastian’s talking about. Then he does.
He rolls his eyes.
“I’ll see you later,” he says as he gathers his stuff and opens the car door.
Sebastian shoots him a wink and a careless wave before he drives away.
Kurt wipes his lips with his hands as he walks up to his house, but he’s still
pretty sure when he comes in his dad will take one look at him and know him for
exactly what he is—someone who’s been extremely well-kissed.
Despite the fact that apparently his dad had been expecting this months ago,
the thought is still mortifying.
But it also makes something warm unfold in his chest, so that’s all right. Even
if he knows neither he nor Sebastian know what the fuck they’re doing.
===============================================================================
 
Sebastian would’ve never said, of course, but it was obvious to Kurt that he
made an effort to reassure Kurt the morning after they… well… the morning
after.
So Kurt wasn’t fearful that Sebastian and he were going to go back to that
terrible time after Scandals where neither of them talked to the other.
That didn’t mean he wasn’t afraid that their friendship was going to turn
awkward and broken, that his head was in fact better than his instincts, and
that his relationship with Sebastian would be irrevocably changed.
He was wrong about the first two things, but right about the last one.
Kurt isn’t sure what they are anymore.
He just knows that in the gap between the last Warbler party and the beginning
of school year, they sent practically a hundred messages a day, Skyped twice a
week, and went out once for a “drive” that ended with a heated make-out session
and mutual handjobs, and still Kurt missed Sebastian until he ached.
When he moves back to Dalton for his senior year, his life and Sebastian’s blur
even more.
They settle easily back into their routine, before summer’s interruption.
Sebastian is nearly always the first and last person Kurt talks to (and the
fact that this was true even in Mayshould have tipped Kurt off that no, this
was not a platonic relationship).
They still go to practices, to games, to parties together, still hang out in
Sebastian’s room before and after and whenever else they have downtime—only
now, in between study sessions and musical brainstorm sessions and conversation
sessions and vegetating sessions, Kurt learns from Sebastian the fine art of
gay sex and Sebastian learns Kurt’s body and how to best make him insane.
It’s in Sebastian’s room that Kurt gives his first blowjob, tentative and shy.
There was no plan, no working up to it, just Sebastian sprawled domineering and
possessing in his desk chair and Kurt’s mouth running dry. Before he knew it,
he was on his knees, unbuckling Sebastian’s uniform pants while Sebastian
caressed his head and gave him instructions, his voice hoarse. Kurt learns that
the taste of latex condoms is disgusting and that the angle makes his neck and
jaw ache and that giving requires far too much concentration. Kurt also learns,
when Sebastian finally pulled him up, his eyes awed and desperate, and licked
into his mouth greedily while he finished Kurt off with a hand, that Kurt is
willing to do it over and over for Sebastian.
It’s also in Sebastian’s room that he learns that sex can be free and dirty and
shameless, when Sebastian tells him no one’s fucking anybody until they both
know what they’re doing. Kurt comes that day with his feet spread wide and two
fingers deep within himself, his body scorching up with the heat of Sebastian’s
gaze. And then the next time, Sebastian repeats his actions, practically step-
by-step, like he had been taking notes, until Kurt comes clamping down hard on
Sebastian’s long and clever and ruthless fingers. And the time after, Sebastian
makes him watch and not touch, and it’s torture. And the time after that Kurt’s
fingers breaches someone else for the first time, and he gets it totally wrong
and hurts Sebastian and they bitch at each other and by some miracle Sebastian
eventually finishes and it’s definitely not sexy, but instead of feeling
embarrassed Kurt laughs and laughs and tells Sebastian that’s what he gets for
playing sexy teacher. Kurt ends up treating him to a long languorous blowjob
after fifteen minutes has passed, thank God for teenage refractory periods.
He learns, eventually, what it’s like to open up your body for another person,
that there really can never be too much lube, that it’s hesitant and
uncomfortable and even painful, and that it’s so terrifyingly intimate that
when it’s over, Kurt can’t do anything but cling and cling to Sebastian.
It gets to the point that now, when he enters Sebastian’s room and smells that
mix of musky cologne and sweat (which objectively isn’t even an attractive
scent), he instantly becomes hard like a Pavlovian dog.
Which is a bitch on the rare occasion that someone else is in Sebastian’s room
with them, and Sebastian smirks like he knows exactly what dirty thoughts Kurt
is having.
Sebastian had taught Kurt his very first time that sex can be gentle and
frightening and transformative. Kurt just didn’t know then that it could be
like that again and again and again, that it had nothing to do with it being
his first time or even sex itself, and everything to do with Sebastian.
The shift in their relationship doesn’t go unnoticed. He can see it in his
groupmates’ gazes, because the other Warblers aren’t dumb. But Kurt thinks
someone must’ve warned them off. No one asks Kurt anything, and Kurt’s not
brave enough to ask Sebastian if anyone’s asked him, so he has to assume that
it’s the same for Seb.
On rare occasions, someone outsidethe Warblers will ask, or call Kurt
Sebastian’s fuck buddy or even his boyfriend, and Kurt will instead call
Sebastian his best friend, because it’s true.
Sometimes, when he thinks about how much he’s come to not only depend on
Sebastian’s presence in his life but also to expect it, Kurt is so so afraid,
because it’s Sebastian Smythe.
And then he remembers that it’s Sebastian, and the fear trickles out of his
hands and sinks to the depths of his consciousness.
Kurt decides not to worry about it, because it’s not like he knew what they
were before they started sleeping together either.
Chapter End Notes
     Teenage experimentation, whooooo :D
     Side-comment: does anyone feel this universe is a bit too
     claustrophobic? I mean, I do know it's a Kurtbastian fic, but I
     wonder if I should have a couple of scenes where the attention shifts
     off them, so it doesn't feel like the world is ONLY populated by
     them. Let me know if there are enough side character mentions that
     you feel it's fine, or you would like more side characters. I do love
     me some Warblers. Rachel too. But Burt upcoming.
***** Relationship Talk (December, 2011) *****
Chapter Summary
     " 'His decisions are his own. All you can do is be there for him when
     the break-up happens,' she says. 'It might not even ultimately be bad
     for him. People grow from relationships, even failed ones.' "
     Kurt and Sebastian finally deal with what it really means for the two
     of them to be in a relationship with each other, before either of
     them turns eighteen.
Chapter Notes
See the end of the chapter for notes
Relationship Talk (December, 2011)
“I don’t know what Kurt is even thinking,” his dad says, and Kurt hears the
pots and pans clatter in the sink.
Kurt freezes where he is, just a few steps from entering the kitchen.
“He’s young and tough and smart, I’m sure he’ll be fine,” he hears Carole’s
voice soothe.
He’s suddenly glad his soft socks hadn’t made any noise as he was coming. Kurt
knows it’s wrong, but he inches over to the wall and listens.
Because his dad hasn’t been… his dad is his dad, so he’s always going to love
and be proud of Kurt, but Kurt knows his dad well enough to know that he’s been
unhappy. And Kurt is almost positive it’s because of his relationship with
Sebastian.
But Kurt doesn’t know for sure, because neither of them have said anything to
each other, not even when his dad came to pick him up for winter break and
found Kurt packing the last of his luggage with Sebastian sprawled all over his
bed. His dad had said a stiff “hello” and “goodbye,” while Sebastian bolted up
from the bed and tripped over all the pleasantries and hugged Kurt goodbye hard
enough to bruise.
So yeah, he decides to eavesdrop. He silently thanks Sebastian for keeping him
up last night with an entirely ridiculous text conversation and making him miss
breakfast.
“But he’s a teenage boy! What does he even think he’s doing, running around
with that Smythe boy? I mean, if you even knew half of the things I’ve been
told about him, Carole—”
“Burt,” she says, patiently. “I’m not sure you want to judge a boy that neither
of us have ever sat down properly with by the neighborhood gossip.”
“Finntold me about him!"  
“And I’m sorry to say this about my son, but he’s not exactly the greatest
judge of character,” Carole says.
For a moment, there’s just the sound of water flowing.
“What’s really bothering you, Burt?” Carole asks.
His dad sighs.
“It’s not… It’s not just that he’s… whatever he is with the Smythe boy. I saw
that coming. It’s just that… I raised him, Carole. I saw him daydream about his
Name, the perfect meeting, the perfect wedding. I was sure he would be one of
those kids that would wait for his Name.”
“And instead, he’s dating Smythe, and refusing to go back to McKinley, and
hanging out with all these rich private school boys. Sometimes I feel like he’s
changed so much in the past year that I don’t even know him anymore,” his dad
says.
Kurt bites his lower lip, his vision blurring.
For years and years now, it’s been just him and his dad. Even now, with Carole,
in some ways, it’s still just him and his dad.
He feels like the worse sort of son.
He hears movement, and he imagines Carole laying a gentle hand on his dad’s
shoulder or hugging him loosely.
“You know,” Carole says softly, so that Kurt has to strain to hear, “I had a
pre-Name relationship too. A lot of people I know did. And a lot of people I
know dated around even after they turned eighteen, before they met their
person. Those relationships… they fade naturally. He’s eighteen. It’s not a bad
or an abnormal thing.  
“But even if he does—why pick Sebastian? Why not someone kind and sweet, like,
like, I don’t know, like Sam, or Finn, or Artie?”
“Well,” Carole says, and Kurt thinks she sounds amused. “For one thing, I’m
pretty sure none of those boys are gay.”
There are more violent clangs of metal on metal. When his dad speaks again, his
voice is hesitant.
“I’m just… I’m afraid he’s going to change everything about himself just so
that that Smythe boy can break his heart.”
“You think he’s serious?” Carole asks with a note of surprise.
“I knowmy son, Carole. No matter how much he changes, he won’t ever be the
casual type. He’s a romantic. And I recognize the smitten look he’s been
wearing all week. He’ll put his all into this and he’ll get his heart broken.”
Carole seems to mull this over.
“But if…” Carole says, slowly, “you know him… then do you really think that he
would date someone who wasn’t a good person and who didn’t treat him well?”
There’s silence.
“Carole,” his dad says, awed and open, “you are a brilliant woman.”
His stepmom laughs, a warm and gentle sound. “You’re just too blinded by your
worry for your son,” she says. “From where I’m standing, Kurt looks like a
smart, talented, competent young adult who is exploring and coming into
himself, that’s all.”
“Who knows,” Carole says teasingly, “Sebastian might have even been a good
influence on Kurt all these months. You told me yourself his grades have been
improving.”
They both laugh, but Kurt flushes, thinking about how true that actually is.
They can’t alwaysbe having sex in Sebastian’s room. Kurt’s been spending more
time than he ever had studying, with the most competent instructor he’s ever
had at his side more days than not, because Sebastian still isn’t going to
Scandals and lacrosse season hasn’t yet started. It’s only recently that he’s
felt ashamed about the way he had dismissed Sebastian’s high grades when they
first met, having seen only his flirty winks and wealthy background.
His dad and Carole don’t speak for a bit, and from the sounds of it Kurt thinks
that they’ve both gone back to washing the dishes. He’s debating about walking
back to his room and pattering loudly back into the kitchen when his dad’s
voice picks up again.
“But… say that’s true…” he says, contemplatively, “Pre-Name relationships don’t
last. You said so yourself.”
“Oh, Burt,” Carole sighs. “You can’t protect him from everything. That’s his
choice to make, and he’s already made it.”
“But I should still talk to him about it. He might not have thought about—“ his
dad protests.
His dad’s voice suddenly cut off. When Carole speaks, her voice is firm.
“His decisions are his own. All you can do is be there for him when the break-
up happens,” she says. “It might not even ultimately be bad for him. People
grow from relationships, even failed ones.”
His dad and Carole don’t talk any more after that.
Kurt pads back into his room, but instead of going back downstairs like he
originally planned, he lies in bed, feeling suddenly sick and cold.
===============================================================================
 
“What the fuck are you doing, Kurt?” Sebastian says.
“What?” Kurt asks, tilting his head down to stare at Sebastian’s brown head,
which last Kurt was paying attention was working his way down his stomach.
Sebastian rolls off Kurt, his mouth an annoyed frown.
“If you weren’t interested, you should’ve kept your hands to yourself,”
Sebastian complained, “I wanted to see the end of that movie.”
Kurt grimaces. He knows Sebastian hates being ignored. But it’s not that he
doesn’t want to, exactly.
He missed Sebastian terribly over Christmas break, enough that when the lights
had gone down on the Warblers’ pre-New Years Eve movie night at Sebastian’s
house, he’d thrown all caution to the wind and snuggled up to Sebastian—who
must’ve missed him too, because he also snuggled closer… which led to quiet
kisses… and then groping… and then the two of them making excuses that probably
fooled nobody halfway through the movie. At the time, Kurt wondered what it
signified, that they didn’t fucking care about how transparent they were being
to the others anymore.
But now that they’re here in bed together, in the room where Kurt lost his
virginity, Kurt just can’t—his mind just won’t shut up
And neither does his mouth, because in the next second, he’s turning to
Sebastian and blurting out, “Have you ever thought about Names?”
Sebastian freezes.
Kurt wants to bite off his tongue.
Sebastian’s not looking at Kurt when he replies, his voice icy, “Besides how
annoying it is when people turn eighteen and can’t stop sighing about their
imprinted Name? And how much of a bitch senior year will be because of it? No.
What about them?”
Kurt presses his lips tightly together. He knows there are lots of reasons
they’ve never talked about them, but one of them is that they’ve also never
wanted to talk about this.
But his dad and Carole’s conversation haven’t stopped circling in his head
since he overheard them. And he finds he wants to talk about it with Sebastian,
because it’s unnatural now to not talk about things that bother him with
Sebastian.
“I used to…” he says, haltingly. He’s not sure exactly where to start. “I used
to wonder a lot, if my dad is as happy with Carole as he was with my mom.”
There’s a pause.
Then Sebastian is turning to him, his face losing its scary blankness. It
morphs into relief, then concern. He rests his head on a propped up hand and
pushes Kurt’s hair back with the other.
“Why?” he asks, “Are they having problems?”
Kurt shakes his head.
“It’s just that… my dad is a widow. And Carole’s a widow too. And TV and movies
and all that, they’re always making such a big deal about how your Name,
they’re… you know, your person, your Soulmate.” He leans into Sebastian’s
touch. “And I used to wonder what they would do, if my mom and Finn’s dad came
back to life. Which is dumb, because that’s never going to happen. But they
both still wear a black ring with their gold ring, and I know my dad still
misses my mom… and I just thought that maybe they were, you know… settling.”
Seb doesn’t answer for a long time.
“And what did you decide?” he asks finally.
Kurt sees his dad’s lost expression every year on the day of his mom’s death,
the way his big form seems to shrink in on itself. He sees his dad smiling at
Carole when she’s looking the other way, the awe in his Dad’s voice for Carole
just a couple of days ago during that terrible conversation he overheard.
“I don’t know. I think—they love each other, I know that, but beyond that… I
don’t know,” Kurt admits. “I hate not knowing. I’ve always thought Names were
so important.”
Sebastian smiles. “You would,” he says.
Their eyes meet. Kurt licks his lips.
“Have you thought about who your Name will be? Will it matter to you?” Kurt
finally asks.
Sebastian stares at Kurt. Kurt can count each second it takes for his eyes to
shift into something dark and hard, and he doesn’t need to wait for Sebastian’s
words, Kurt knows the dismissal that’s anything but carefree working its way
out of his mouth.
He slides closer carefully, resting his head on Sebastian’s pillow and pressing
a hand against Sebastian’s collarbone.
“I’ve always loved the idea of a Name,” Kurt offers first. “Someone who you
know is yours, someone who you know with certainty will love you forever.”
He closes his eyes.
“It always seemed so miraculous,” he says. ”Someone who would just come to you,
and you could be sure they’d fit you, and you wouldn’t have to bumble your way
through figuring out what you wanted, whether you liked guys or girls,
whether—“
He buries his head into Sebastian’s pillow, inhaling the scent of him. Kurt
dimply registers Sebastian’s hand rubbing circles into his neck.
“You were confused?” Sebastian prompts, his voice soft.
Kurt hiccups out a laugh. “No, not really. Weren’t you the one that said if
‘flaming’ had a definition it’d be—”
Sebastian tilts his head back and meets his eyes. “I meant that to hurt, back
then. It was a stupid fucking thing to say. You’re gorgeous, and only assholes
think ‘flaming’ is an insult,” he says.
Kurt’s mouth lifts at the corners of its own accord, even through the lump in
his throat.
And that is why, no matter how he might try, he’ll always circle back to
Sebastian.
“You weren’t wrong, though, not really,” he says, pressing a quick dry kiss to
Sebastian’s lips. “I think I’ve always known, even before that kiss with
Mercedes I told you about. I always secretly thought it would be a guy,” he
admits.
He lets the intimate silence linger a little bit, and then ask again,
hesitantly, “And you? Have you thought about your Name?”
He can feel Sebastian’s tension against his fingertips, but he can tell this
time, Sebastian’s not readying to shut down, he’s bracing himself.
“No,” Sebastian says at last. “Even though I know it’s rare… I’ve always
thought I’d be one of the ones without a name. Like Rachel.  
Sebastian rolls onto his back, and Kurt gives him the space.
“And even if I did, who’s to say it’d even work out?” he says. “My parents were
a match, they found each other only months after their birthdays—but they only
stayed together long enough for my dad to get rich and for my mom to get
pregnant. And if something other than pure luck assigned the Names, he must
have been fucking blind. Maman can barely be in a relationship for a year, my
dad works fifteen hours a day. They’re not even friends anymore. What if I met
my ‘Soulmate,’ and he hated my guts?”
Kurt’s heart hurts. Rachel's birthday came and went, and Rachel has been
wearing her Unnamed state as just another reason why she was special. He wants
to say that Rachel doesn’t have a name because she’s too strong-willed for
it—that having or not having a name doesn’t signify at all whether or not you
deserved love—that if it did, Sebastian’s entire body would be imprinted from
head-to-toe with Kurt E. Hummel.
But he stays quiet, because he knows that if Sebastian is too aware that he is
making himself vulnerable, he’ll hide away, and not even steady pressure will
bring him out again. He does the next best thing he can—he curls closer and
over Sebastian, as if he could protect Sebastian with his body alone.
Sebastian leans into him, just a little.
“How did your parents meet?” Sebastian asks.
Kurt smiles. It’s one of favorite stories, the perfect everyday meet-cute. “My
dad told me that when he met my mom, he walked straight into her and her bags
dropped all over the parking lot. They ended up grabbing coffee at a nearby
place and talking for hours. It wasn’t until they got shooed out that they
bothered to exchange names. But he said within the first hour of meeting her he
just knew she was the one, he didn’t even need it confirmed,” Kurt says in
reply.
“They just knew, huh?” Sebastian says, and catching something odd in his voice,
Kurt looks into his face. His eyes are considering.
“What are you thinking?” Kurt asks, brushing a stray strand of hair away from
Sebastian’s face.  
“My parents’ meeting,” he grins ruefully. “Maman says meeting him felt like two
misshapen rocks slamming into each other, shedding sparks and broken bits.”
Kurt swallows. This is the moment he’s waiting for. He—he has to have the
courage to say what he’s concluded to Sebastian and… see how it goes. He’s Kurt
Hummel, when has he ever held back his words?
“Do you know,” Kurt says at last, “I used to dream that when I met my Name, I’d
just instantly recognize him, like my dad did? And he’d miraculously turn me
different. The best version of me. I wouldn’t be clawing at everything I wanted
all the time, I’d be kinder, better, happier. I’d come out of the closet,
finally. I wouldn’t be afraid anymore, because I’d have someone’s unconditional
love.”
Sebastian frowns, first at the shift in conversation, and then when he starts
to process Kurt’s words. “What are you talking about? You are out of the
closet. And you do have all that—or at least, I thought you—“
Kurt presses a dry kiss to his lips to shut him up.
When Kurt pulls back, Sebastian only looks more confused. He smiles.
“Yeah, I am, and I do,” Kurt says, simply.
Kurt’s also never shied away from overkill, so just to be sure Sebastian got
the message, he adds, pointedly. “So we’ve got two testimonies that says
basically how you feel and your emotional instincts matter,” He pauses. “And
obviously other people and I all contributed to making me into who I am, but
right now, I feel like how I always imagined finding my Name would feel like.”
They look at each other.
“You’re so hopelessly romantic it’s nauseating,” Sebastian says finally, but
he’s shifting just those couple of inches closer to Kurt, and there’s shaky
gladness in Sebastian’s voice. Kurt threads his fingers through Sebastian’s
gorgeous hair and pulls him closer, so that their limbs are slotted together
like puzzle pieces.
Chapter End Notes
     Dun dun dun?
***** Commitment (January, 2012) *****
Chapter Summary
     “Merry Christmas, and Happy New Year,” Sebastian says. “Do you like
     your present?”
     Sebastian is smug, and they start off the New Year in absolutely the
     right way.
Chapter Notes
     Have this totally gratuitous sex scene, to balance last week's heavy
     emotions, and also because I feel miserable today and thought I might
     as well make some people happy. Though this is still, like, 50%
     emotions.
     Warnings (or kinks? incentive to read?): (safe) barebacking, (bit of)
     comeplay, dirty talk, general sluttiness and total enthusiastic
     consent
See the end of the chapter for more notes
Commitment (January, 2012)
Kurt wakes up to Sebastian palming his ass greedily and nuzzling at his neck.
He pushes him away groggily. “Unghn… Go away, Seb. It’s—” he opens his eyes
blearily. 7:30 AM, God. With nowhere to go. 
He notices Sebastian’s hair, all pressed up against his neck and jaw, is wet.
Back from his morning exercise routine then.
“Normal people sleep in, you know,” he accuses him through slit eyes. “Go away.
We can have sex later."  
Kurt can feelSebastian roll his eyes.
“We won’t be able to before I have to drive you home and get the house ready
for tonight’s party. Not if we want to do it properly,” Sebastian says in a
petulant voice. “And I was going to wait until tonight, but I figured we might
get started on it now. We could always go for a second round.”
Kurt is still too sleepy to ask what the fuck Sebastian is on about. He rolls
over.
“Go away,” he repeats.
And Sebastian… doesn’t play fair. He presses himself tight against Kurt,
showing Kurt just how awakehe is at 7:30 in the morning. One hand pulls Kurt
closer by the waist, the other slips under his briefs.
“Come on, babe,” Sebastian whispers in his ear, starting to move rhythmically
front and back. “I’ve got a surprise for you.”
Kurt squeezes his eyes together and shakes his head, just to be contrary, but
he can’t help working his hips back against Sebastian, just a little. He’s not
feeling very sleepy anymore.
Sebastian bites the pulse point underneath his jaw, and Kurt whimpers. He rakes
one hand up Kurt’s side and finds a tight nipple, squeezing just hard enough to
shoot sparks all down Kurt’s spine.
“Okay, fine,” Kurt pants out finally, scooting just far enough away to roll
onto his back. “You win, all right? Just—in me.”
It seems like forever since he’s had anything in his ass but his own fingers.
He’s tightening up in anticipation, just thinking about it.
Sebastian laughs, this gorgeous open sound, and in one smooth motion, tugs off
his pants and shifts onto his knees so that he’s straddling Kurt.
Kurt stares at the miles of golden skin, can’t help distractedly palming the
divots of his hips as Sebastian smiles down at him, even as he’s wondering what
the hold-up is. Usually Sebastian’s jumping up at this point for the condom by
the nightstand or in some pocket or other.
“But whatever shall we do?” Sebastian drawls, a smug grin on his face. “I don’t
have condoms in this room.”
Kurt’s hands freeze on its journey up Sebastian’s abs.
“What?” he says through gritted teeth. Sebastian’s blowjobs are amazing, but he
wants to be fucked, like, right now. “No way, you’re you, you’ve got to have at
least one.In your wallet maybe? Or your pocket? Here, get up, let me look—“
Sebastian laughs again—it’s less endearing than usual, why the fuck isn’t he
moving—and wrestles Kurt back onto the bed.
“Stay put,” he whispers, leaning down to press a kiss to Kurt’s nose. “I’ve got
something else.”
Sebastian leans over to pull something from the bedside table and drops it next
to Kurt’s head. Kurt hopes for Sebastian’s sake, now that he’s worked Kurt up,
that it’s something that allows slot a to fit into tab b.  
And… it’s lube and a piece of paper?
“Go on, read it,” Sebastian prompts.
Kurt glares at him, but obediently picks it up.
It’s—it’s Sebastian’s STD test results. Kurt scans it quickly, and then checks
it again. And then a third time.
He looks up at Sebastian, and Sebastian plucks it from his hand and throws it
across the room.
“Merry Christmas, and Happy New Year,” Sebastian says. “Do you like your
present?”
“But you already got me that Burberry coat,” Kurt answers stupidly.
Sebastian rolls his eyes, but his fingers trail lightly down Kurt’s chest and
throat.
“Present for me then,” he says. “I hear barebacking is supposed to feel
amazing.”
“But I already got you—“
“Kurt,” Sebastian says, giving him a condescending look.
“I—okay.” Kurt says, licking his lips. “And we’ll just keep doing this… moving
forward?”
He can’t believe… and Sebastian was going to do it on New Year’s Eve. Even
before their talk. What you’re doing at the stroke of midnight will be what
you’ll do for the rest of the year, and all that. Sebastian knows all the
superstitions Kurt does.
“Can’t be that hard. It’s just been you since mid-summer,” Sebastian says,
faux-casual. Before Kurt stops marveling at that, let alone reply that of
course it’s the same for him—though given, he was a virgin before Sebastian and
there weren’t exactly men knocking down his door—Sebastian is grinning wickedly
at him.
“And all the messy, dirty come should be right up your alley. So to speak,” Seb
says, winking.
“Sebastian!” Kurt yells, flushing, even as his cock gives a hard jerk.
Seb grinds down. “Uh huh—I can definitelytell how off-putting you find it.”
“You’re not the one that’s going to have to deal with clean-up,” Kurt says
breathlessly.
Sebastian leans down.
“Don’t worry,” he whispers against Kurt’s mouth, “I’ll make it worth your
time.”
Kurt is sorry to say he doesn’t need much convincing. He has been finding his
defenses against Sebastian’s Home Aloneeyes crumbling more and more often
lately. They do the bare minimum of prep, and before long, Kurt is throwing his
head back as Seb slides in, inch-by-inch.
Finally, they’re pressed tight together. Sebastian stills his hips, Kurt’s legs
spread around the fulcrum of his waist, waiting for Kurt’s signal.
The burn of Seb entering him is so familiar. But it’s different too. Kurt can
feel with every shift the skin sliding against his inner walls, the heat
radiating through him. And it just sounds… messier. He squeezes down.
Sebastian swears.
Kurt tightens again, just to be a jerk. When Sebastian shoots him a dirty look,
he winks, wraps his hands around a fistful of sinful silk sheets, and says, “Go
for it.”
The first thrust knocks Kurt’s smugness right out of him.
He gasps, surprised and breathless, because Sebastian skipped the usual build-
up. Instead, he’s impossibly hard and unforgiving, ramming into Kurt with all
his strength.
Seb gets up onto his knees, pushes Kurt’s legs up onto his shoulders and Kurt
finds his ass tilting up with the bend unconsciously, and—
“Oh, fuck,” Kurt squawks, because that was a dead-on nail to his prostate.
Sebastian smirks, and leans in to nip at Kurt’s open mouth.
“Did I ever tell you these walls are practically soundproof? There's actually
no need to worry about waking up the others, I just liked you trying and
completely failing to be quiet,” Sebastian says, sounding calm, the bastard,
even though he’s still thrusting so hard Kurt hears a slap-slapeach time they
connect and he sends a jolt from Kurt’s prostate all through his body. A bead
of sweat or water slides from Seb’s hair down his neck and onto his abs. Sexy
athletic fucker.
“I’ll show you. Go. For. It,” Seb mutters, each word a hard thrust that
wrenches a gasp from Kurt.
They do, in fact, go for it for awhile. The sparks flare over and over, until
it’s one long continuous light show. There’s no way Kurt can take any more. He
reaches down for his cock—but he’s not even halfway there before Sebastian bats
his hand away.
“No,” Sebastian says, panting at last. “Not yet. Keep your hands up there for
me.”
Kurt makes an inarticulate noise of frustration, but does as he’s told. It’s so
good, but too much. It feels like holding a yoga stretch, like pressing on a
bruise. He doesn’t know if he wants it to end now,or go on forever  
“God, Seb, fuck—I can’t—“ he sobs out. He turns and bites the pillow, because
the room might be soundproof but he’s afraid he’s about to start drooling.
Above him, Sebastian moans.
“Oh my God, are you literally biting your pillow? Are you trying to kill me?”
He pants. “Fuck.” He slows, and Kurt’s eyes fly open to ask what the fuck he
thinks he’s doing—Kurt’s thisclose—when he feels Sebastian’s hands pull down
his legs and push them up towards his chest.
Without prompting, Kurt grasps his thighs and folds himself in half. God bless
yoga and dance. The change puts Sebastian’s face right up against his, and
pulls his cock just that inch deeper.
Sebastian brackets him in with his forearms, their shared breath fogging up the
air between them. He starts to thrust hard and fast again, a move Kurt rewards
with open appreciative moans. Their eyes follow each other through the haze of
impending orgasm.
“You’re so—so—ah, fuck—tightest ass, tightest body, most fucking gorgeous thing
I’ve ever seen,” Sebastian says. “Just lookat you.”
A warmth that’s half pride and half embarrassment suffuses Kurt’s body at that,
mingling with that white-hot sensation down his spine. He knows Sebastian must
recognize the way his blush is extending down his neck, the way he’s tightening
down, because Seb makes to move one of his arms down.
Kurt shakes his head. “No,” he pants. “No. Just. Harder, okay—ah, like that,
right there. In me. Just. In Me.”
Sebastian nods. He nails his prostate a handful more times. And again. And
again, and Kurt’s gone. He squeezes his eyes shut, letting out a hoarse yell at
the orgasm starts at the small of his back and rips through him. It goes on and
on, so long he’s barely aware of what his cock is doing, stars literally
exploding underneath his eyes. He shakes apart under Sebastian, coming so hard
he swears if he were religious he’d see God.
When he finally cracks open his eyes, Sebastian is leaning into him with that
familiar expression of ecstatic pain. Still panting, Kurt drops his legs to
cross them tight around Sebastian’s waist. His hands move into Sebastian’s
hair, tilting Sebastian’s face just enough that his glazed green eyes lock onto
Kurt’s  
“Like that,” Kurt says, “Come in me, come on. I want it—“
“Kurt,”Sebastian moans, and then groans, his cock contracting in Kurt. It’s
starting to ache, but Kurt bears down, tries his best to milk each wave out of
Sebastian. It’s liquid and hot and odd, and just the feeling of it makes Kurt’s
cock jerk painfully and dribble out just that bit more.
They lay together like that for just a couple of minutes more, foreheads
against each other, sharing breath. Then slowly, Sebastian pulls off and away
with an embarrassing suction sound.
Kurt can feel the liquid leaking out, and it makes him hot for both the right
and the wrong reasons.
Sebastian drops down besides Kurt and grins smugly.
Kurt blows an annoyed breath at him.
Kurt was right. It is a bitch to clean up, even when Mr. Smythe is rich enough
to have an ensuite bathroom for his son’s childhood bedroom.
Before that, though—
The afterglow is dazzling.
“We’re doing that again,” Kurt says, bright-eyed, lying with his head tucked in
the hollow of Sebastian’s shoulder.
Sebastian laughs, jostling Kurt from his comfortable position even as he
presses a dry kiss into his damp hair. Kurt grumbles, snuggling tighter into
his warmth.
Chapter End Notes
     *fans self* I'm not going to lie, I mostly wrote this for myself. I
     hoped some character things happened in there.
     Like Sebastian's total enjoyable warped sense of romance. And
     terrible puns.
     (Also! I see you, familiar faces. Thanks for your coming back week
     after week for this story, dear readers).
***** Path to Stardom (April 2012) *****
Chapter Summary
     “You’ll make it. You belong up on stage every bit as much as that
     shrilly best friend of yours,” Sebastian says against his lips. “And
     you’re up there for the joy of it.”
     Kurt rolls the die on NYADA auditions!
Chapter Notes
See the end of the chapter for notes
Path to Stardom (April 2012)
                    “Nothing ever seems like it used to be
                You can have your dreams, but you can’t have me
                         I can’t go back there anymore
                                ‘Cause I’m not
                                   I am not
                          I am not the boy next door”
 Kurt knows he hits the falsetto perfectly, he can hear it ringing crisp and
clear in his head and in the practice room. He cuts the note off with a sharp
grin at Sebastian.
Sebastian looks back at him with an unconvinced tilt to his mouth.
Kurt feels the triumph and performance adrenaline peter out.
“Was I bad?” he demands.
“What?” Sebastian says, frowning. “No, you were fantastic.”
The response is swift enough that Kurt believes him… but Sebastian is still
avoiding his gaze.
“But you didn’t like,” Kurt states plainly.
“I mean—I wouldn’t say I didn’t likeit—“
“Fuck!” Kurt swears, looking away. He can feel tears starting to bead at the
corners of his eyes. He doesn’t have timefor this, he already threw away “The
Music of the Night” because it was too classic Broadway. What was he suppose to
scrounge up now in time for his NYADA audition?
“No, hey—don’t be like that, babe,” Sebastian says, jumping down from the chair
he was perched on and enfolding Kurt in his arms.
“I’m not going to college,” he wails, “Rachel’s going to prance off to Broadway
and I’m going to end up working at the Lima Bean and becoming the bum on the
corner of Elm Street who dresses in like, six layers of rags and smells weird,
oh God, I’m going to have to become a street performer to feed myself—“
“You know that will never happen,” Sebastian says soothingly, rubbing his back.
“You can always work as my boy toy twink.”
“Shut up,” Kurt says, but he hiccups in laughter, the tears in his eyes and
throat dissipating. “You’re doing a shit job at being accepting and
supportive.”
“I’ll stop when you stop being a drama queen,” Sebastian volleys back, but he
presses a kiss to Kurt’s forehead.
“Look,” Sebastian says finally. He pulls back to stare at Kurt’s face, his eyes
and tone turning serious. “As your… boyfriend”—Sebastian still pauses before he
says that word, but he’s getting better, it’s been three months and he’s had
some practice—“I’m told by Cosmopolitan I have the responsibility to be honest
with you. And honestly, the song’s not doing it for me.”
Kurt sighs, running his hands through his styled hair and immediately
regretting.
“I was just so sure,” he says, not able to keep the whine out of his voice. “I
already ditched ‘The Music of the Night’ for this song because I thought that
was too much of a classic audition song and I needed to take a risk. ‘Not The
Boy Next Door’ was supposed to show Carmen who I amandmy talent.”
Sebastian thumbs Kurt’s lips thoughtfully.
“Look,” he says, “Why did you ditch ‘The Music of the Night?’ Because it was
expected and overwrought, right? And sure, ‘Not The Boy Next Door’ fixes some
of that, but it’s still showbiz.And that means you’ll still be compared to
Rachel, who’s more theatrical than jazz hands. Not to mention it doesn’t tell
Carmen anything she can’t deduce from your application. You’re the proud and
out working class queer at a boarding school singing about being different and
proud. The song’s too on-the-nose.”
That’s—toughto hear. And by the tenseness of Sebastian’s shoulders, Sebastian
knows it too. But Kurt can’t deny any of it. And more importantly, he knows how
hard such long, honest speeches are for Seb. Blunt stinging retorts are more
his forte.
But here his boyfriend is, trying to be helpful, because this is important to
him too.
“Okay, say you’re right,” Kurt admits, and the tension goes out of Sebastian’s
frame. “But then what am I supposed to do?”
Seb looks thoughtful.
“We both know Rachel will blow the NYADA judge away,” Sebastian says, and Kurt
nods, no argument.
“So then make sure you show the judge something that can’t be pitted against
Rachel,” Sebastian continues. “Rachel’s Broadway and manic pixie charm
personified, so you have to show her something completely different, something
that’s not obviously you but still is.”
He looks at Kurt expectantly, but Kurt can only give him a puzzled expression.
“And that would be….?” he asks.
Sebastian rolls his eyes. He tightens his grip on Kurt’s waist and reins him
in, so that they’re standing with bodies flush against each other. His eyes are
dark and fierce, and Kurt is as arrested as that night in Sebastian’s kitchen,
so long ago now.  
“Passionate. Raw. Undone,” Seb says, punctuating each word with a hard kiss.
Then he pulls back to stare seriously at Kurt. “Do you know how many people
I’ve slept with?“ he asks.
Kurt is about to say no and never tell me, but Sebastian steamrolls ahead. “Me
neither. But enough that nothing in bed should take my breath away anymore. ”
Kurt wonders where Sebastian is going with this.  
“But you do,” Sebastian says, quickly. “You’re loud and needy and demanding and
so fucking hedonisticin bed. It’s a fucking power trip. When I first met you, I
thought you were a walking thoughtless stereotype, before I learnt all the most
gorgeous parts of you were hidden underneath your hundred and one coats. When
you’re raw and stripped down —it feels like I’m being let in on a state
secret.”
Sebastian’s last words are barely out of his mouth before Kurt throws himself
onto him, with such ferocity that they’re knocked back onto the table. He
grapples with Sebastian’s belt, because obviously that sort of speech deserves
a reward.
Kurts gives him open-mouth kisses, wet and dirty, and trails them down until
he’s on his knees and Sebastian’sthe one that’s stripped bare, not able to do
anything but groan Kurt’s name.
Half an hour later, they’re sprawled on the surface of the table, sticky and
satiated. Kurt’s shirt is untucked, Sebastian’s pants unzipped but his cock
lovingly tucked away, after Kurt laved it with kittenish licks that left
Sebastian whimpering.
Sebastian turns to card his hand through Kurt’s sweaty hair.
Kurt thinks suddenly of last year, when he caught Sebastian with that faceless
boy in this very room and shrieked the ceiling down. The absurdity of where he
is right now in comparison to then—he can’t quite hold back a giggle.
He expects Sebastian to mock him, but instead Sebastian leans close and kisses
the corner of his mouth.
“You’ll make it. You belong up on stage every bit as much as that shrilly best
friend of yours,” Sebastian says against his lips. “And you’re up there for the
joy of it.” 
And there’s nothing else to do but kiss him again.
He’ll show the audience a part of himself next week, Kurt thinks, but all the
rest of it—the sharing of breath in the afterglow and the awkward clothing re-
shuffle and the frantic airing-out of the room—is his and Sebastian’s alone. 
===============================================================================
 
“Hi,” he says, and of course to heighten the awkwardness the mic screeches back
in feedback. Kurt flinches. In the glare of the lights, he can just make out
Carmen—the Deanof Vocal Performance, oh my God—sitting in one of the middle
rows.
“Today, I’ll be singing—singing” he clears his throat, “’Not the Boy Next Door’
from The Boy From Oz.”
He nods to his back-up singers—Tina, Mercedes, bless old friendships—, but
doesn’t look to the sides. Knowing Sebastian’s solid presence is back there is
enough. Kurt takes a deep breath, and begins.
He glides across the stage, hitting every expression, every note, every hip
movement.
“We made those plans, but they’re wearing thin and they don’t work out ‘cause I
don’t fit in.”
He sings about shedding too-tight skin, about defying expectations and becoming
something new, something past others’ plans for him, past his own dreams for
himself.
“Nothing ever seems like it used to be. You can have your dreams, oh, but you
can’t have me. I can’t go back there anymore.”
The lights bounce off on his gold suit, and he lets the triumph shine from his
face.
“I am not the boy next door,” he belts out, raising his hands up as the note
crescendos. The word “not” echoes on in the girls’ singing and trails off into
silence.
When he slowly lowers his eyes from the bright lights of the ceilings, he sees
Carmen’s shadowed face as she placidly nods her head. Her hands rise, and Kurt
thinks he could just stop here, his job is done, he did pretty well, he thinks.
But was that song him? The Kurt that NYADA will either be admitting or
rejecting?
“Kiss me,” Kurt whispers, heart in his throat.
Slowly, the tense and shadowy musical bars he knows by heart begins. He can
imagine the pianist’s face, scrounged up into the bemused expression it wore
when Kurt explained his contingency plan and handed over the scores, several
hours before.
                            “Kiss me too fiercely,
                              Hold me too tight.
                             I need help believing
                            You’re with me tonight.
                             And if it turns out,
                              It’s over too fast
                      I’ll make every last minute last.”
Kurt slides the gold jacket off his shoulder, unbuttons his black shirt. He
stands under the lights in his white undershirt, imagining Sebastian’s
infuriating and beloved figure standing before him, like it did months and
months ago under a different set of stage lights, arms outstretched.
Kurt steps forward,
 
                           “Come be how you want to,
                         and see how bright we shine.
                             Borrow the moonlight
                             Until it is through.
Kurt lets the rush of fragile feelings suffuse him and pour out of him, until
they wrench free that desperate, hotly possessive Kurt—the one that dig red
trails down the expanse of Sebastian’s back, in that breath between realization
and orgasm.
                  And know that I will be here, holding you.
                           As long as you’re mine.”
He comes back to his harsh breathing, to a silent hall with Carmen staring at
him.
“It’s just,” he says, huffing out a laugh. “For the first time, I feel…”
Kurt turns sideways, to finally meet a pair of green eyes looking back at him
in amusement.
“Wicked,”Kurt whispers conspiratorially.
He turns again at the sound of shuffling footsteps. At first, he thinks
hysterically that Carmen is about to walk away—did he go over the audition time
limit?—But no, she’s just… rising to her feet.
And then she’s clapping, again and again and again; and his back-up singers are
joining in; and the people in the back. Kurt grins, flushing, stuttering out a
thank you and walking proudly off-stage.
Where he throws himself into Sebastian’s waiting arms and dissolves into teary
laughter.
“You were fucking fantastic, Princess,” Sebastian whispers, clutching his
shoulders tight.
Kurt laughs-cries, muffled into Sebastian’s neck.
He has to let go far too soon, to wish Rachel good luck as she takes her turn
in front of the musical shooting range, to accept all of New Directions’ happy
hugs (and frown at their side-eyes at Sebastian), and to call his dad with
thrilled assurances.
He plans to sweet-talk and threaten Sebastian into joining him for his
celebratory dinner. Because his dad is going to have to get used to Sebastian,
eventually, so why not a night when they’re too busy being happy for Kurt?
Unfortunately, the rest of the night is actually spent clutching Rachel
tightly. She cries in these body-wracking sobs that lack all the beauty of
Rachel’s usual tears and frighten him.
He ends up bundling her up and taking her home with him for dinner, where the
awkwardness between her and Finn mostly swallow up the tension between
Sebastian and his dad.
But of course, Rachel being Rachel, she bulldozes her way through a second
chance. And eventually, a month later, an acceptance to NYADA.
Kurt snaps a photo of his matching letter and sends it to her, then turns
around to unashamedly make out with Sebastian while the Warblers cheer and pop
open expensive and contraband champagne.
Chapter End Notes
     We're slowly closing in on what I have stored up for this story, but
     I'm trying to keep pace with the writing. There's at least 3
     chapters' worth of material stored up to go, so you guys are probably
     fine, but I'm going through midterms so... yeah. I would say we're
     probably more than halfway done with the story now.
     My hope is your fic supply won't be drying up any time soon, but
     fingers crossed!
     Kurt's audition songs:
     1. The_Boy_Next_Door from The Boy from Oz
     2. As_Long_As_You're_Mine from Wicked The Musical
     (the acoustics_version is actually more the mood I think Kurt's
     performance would've struck)
     (yes, the title is meant to be a little on the nose)
***** At Crossroads (May, 2012 / Feb, 2021) *****
Chapter Summary
     "Kurt sits cross-legged in bed, alternating between staring at his
     watch—ticking down to 43, 44—and the smooth skin of his right ring
     finger."
Chapter Notes
See the end of the chapter for notes
At Crossroads  (May, 2012)
Kurt spends the morning of his eighteenth birthday alone.
“Come pick me up at noon, okay?” he had told Sebastian, as he leaned through
the car window for his good bye kiss. He was born on 9:46 AM on a bright May
morning, so noon would leave him about two hours after his Name manifested to
get ready.
Kurt sits cross-legged in bed, alternating between staring at his watch—ticking
down to 43, 44—and the smooth skin of his right ring finger.
He thinks with a thrill about the silver rings he’s ordered for Sebastian and
him, waiting right nowat the jewelry store downtown. He and Sebastian will go
pick them up on their way to brunch and shopping. They’ll have one of their
rare real date nights, before coming back to Sebastian’s mansion to exchange
the rings and properly celebrate, far far away from Kurt’s dad (who had only
very grudgingly agreed to this plan, with a “I will pretend to believe you’re
at Mercedes’ and in return you will tell me nothing” face).
9:45, 9:46.
Kurt watches with breathless anticipation as the ink surfaces on his skin and
etches his Name.
It isn’t Sebastian Smythe.
===============================================================================
At Crossroads (February, 2021)
There are two missed calls from an unknown number.
Kurt stares at his phone, as he hefts his clothing bag over his shoulder and
waves to the other dancers packing up. 
“Don’t forget—extra rehearsals on Wednesday at 9:00!” Randy yells behind him.
“Got it!” Kurt says, walking out the door. He’s typing out an unnaturally
upbeat message to let Sebastian know he’ll be back in an hour while wondering
if he has time to sneak a trip to Neiman’s. He certainly needs the retail
therapy, and the Chinese dry cleaner place they really should switch from
probably won’t even have his clothes yet—when the phone rings again.
It’s the same number, and Kurt, stupidly, picks up.
“Hello?” Kurt says. 
“Hey, Kurt,” the voice on the phone says, and Kurt knows with a bone-deep
certainty and dread whose smooth alto voice that is. Kurt immediately wants to
hang up, but he can’t,even though he should, because that would be rude, right?
So he stays on the phone.
“It’s… Uh. It’s Blaine. Blaine Anderson,” the voice confirms. “I’m sorry this
seems a little… stalkery, but I got your phone number from Brody. Because.
Well, because I really needed to talk to you.”
Blaine waits. Finally, breathing deeply, Kurt settles on, “Yeah.”
Chapter End Notes
     *dodges stones*
     I'm sorry this chapter is so terribly short! I didn't plan how to
     structure these two passages, but they were always meant to face each
     other. And I definitely wanted a breath before we jump to what
     happens after - especially since I haven't done edits for that
     chapter.
     So! Come back on Wednesday for a more substantial update!
     *flees*
***** Support (May, 2012) *****
Chapter Summary
     "Warm arms go around him and shield him away. He buries his head into
     his dad’s familiar scent, the way the smell of oil still seems to
     linger even though he hasn’t been a mechanic in a long time."
     Kurt is lost after his birthday revelation, and Burt proves that he
     will always love Kurt best.
Chapter Notes
See the end of the chapter for notes
Support  (May 2012)
Kurt locks himself in his room because he—he just can’tgo back to Dalton. Not
yet, maybe not ever. Every morning, he waits until his dad stops calling his
name outside his door and leaves for work, scrounges downstairs for the
bathroom and instant snacks, and then crawls back into bed.
Morbidly, Kurt scrolls with swollen eyes through page after page of Google
results on not-Found Pairs on his laptop. His phone he leaves mashed beneath
pillows, because the incessant buzzing of missed calls and unread texts are
from everyone but the one that really matters.
He reads about people who have two names, three. He reads about the Unnamed. He
reads about Found pairs whose names change or fade, and suddenly they’re no
longer Found. He reads about the Widowed Found. He reads about people with
mismatched Names.
He reads a story about a guy who found his Name while in a serious relationship
with someone else. It lovingly details the grief of the rejected girl. There’s
an addendum five years later, where the journalist reports the Found Pair has
been “restored to each other” and were newly married. The “natural happy
ending,” the journalist concludes.
The story makes him want to throw something at the screen.
The journalist never even bothered calling the ex after, the four years with
her a mere obstacle to the grand romance, a necessary step towards true love.
Kurt thinks if anyone tries to console him by saying something similar about
Sebastian, he’d punch their face in.  
===============================================================================
 
Kurt wakes up to pounding on his door, which he at first confuses with the
pounding in his head. He raises himself up just enough from his crumbled bed to
yell at the locked door “Leave me alone!”
“Kurt, you have to eat something.Come out!” his dad says. Kurt can hear the
desperation, and he thinks in other circumstances he’d want to strangle the
person who’s making his dad sound that way.
“I’m not hungry,” he croaks out. His face feels swollen, his throat dry. He
looks at his watch, studiously ignoring his ring finger. 8:00 PM.
“I’ve heated up food,” his dad begs. “Kurt, please.”
His heart wrenches at the tone. Hadn’t he caused enough damage?
“I—okay,” Kurt says. He shuffles slowly off the bed. Slippers. Five steps to
the door. Twist the knob.
He opens the door to the sight of his dad, unshaven and rumpled and ten years
older.
“Kurt,” his dad says, and he’s so relieved.
Kurt nods, blindly heading to the kitchen, where he sits down to the single
place setting and begins to shove food in his mouth, eyes cast downward. His
dad’s signature lasagna tastes like cardboard.
“Here, water,” he hears, and then he sees his dad place a glass down to his
right in his periphery vision.
His dad sits down heavily opposite him.
Kurt continues shoveling food down, like he’s on one of those gross food
competitions on the Food Network.
“Kurt, I know it’s upsetting, but you can’t—”
He throws the fork down. It clangs onto the plate, off-tune.
“Can’t you wait a little bit longer to tell me how relieved and happyyou are?”
Kurt demands.
His dad stares at him.
“Don’t look at me that way!” Kurt screeches hysterically, tears beginning to
blur his vision again. He swipes at his swollen eyes. “I know you don’t like
him! And guess what, you were right,okay? I was stupid and dumb, and I got
hurt. Except hegot hurt too, and—” He thinks back to the sound of Sebastian’s
careless stride into his house, the silence as his dad tells him Kurt’s not
leaving his room, that quiet heartbreaking “okay.”
The tears are a lost cause. Kurt lets them fall freely instead, one after the
other. He pushes away the plate and buries his head in his hands.
“It was my birthday,”he cries, inanely.
Warm arms go around him and shield him away. He buries his head into his dad’s
familiar scent, the way the smell of oil still seems to linger even though he
hasn’t been a mechanic in a long time.
“I’ve never wanted you to be anything but happy,” his dad says gruffly.
“You lied,” Kurt sobs, the feeling of unfairness overwhelming him again. “You
told me you’re supposed to just know.And you were wrong.”
His dad pulls Kurt’s head away gently, until he’s staring at Kurt’s undoubtedly
red face. He wipes away Kurt’s stray tears.
“You’re sure then, that it’s Sebastian.”
“I—I was,” Kurt hiccups. He looks down at his finger. His eyes fill with tears
again, as he stares at the looping bsand ns,remembering seeing each loop form
with horror and willing them to twist at the last second into a different name,
a familiar and beloved name.
Blaine Andersonstares back at him, unchanging.
And he’s suddenly so angry, at this fucking foreign name taking over hisbody.
He scratches and pulls at his finger, ignoring his dad’s cry and pushing away
his restraining hands. He wants to tear off the layers of skin, rip off the
finger itself. Anything to get his life and hishopes back. His hands are
blurring again in a haze of tears.
 “Kurt, stop!” his dad yells, finally grabbing both his hands so tightly he
can’t move an inch. Kurt tries to throw him off, but his dad pins his torso
with a shoulder, and he’s immobile, the rage bottled with nowhere to go 
“Kurt, listen to me,” his dad says, his voice steel, and Kurt flashes to
hundreds of days of being forced to put down the sewing kit, to help around the
shop, to get out of bed and eat and go to school, after his mom passed away.
“Are you listening?” he demands. 
His struggling peters out. His limbs fall down to his sides, defeated.
His dad sighs, and moves off him. They stay there, like a diorama for family
drama.
“I don’t know what to do, Dad,” he admits finally, quietly, through a haze of
tears.
His dad places both hands on his shoulder and tilts his face up. His face is
sad, and kind.
“When I met your mom, I knew,” he begins. Kurt smiles, bitterly, but his dad
shakes his head. “But when I met Carole, I knew too. Even though her name isn’t
on my ring finger.”
His dad kneels then, so that Kurt is forced to look into his eyes.
“Some people think widows can’t love the people they’re with after as much as
they loved their first husband or wife,” his dad says. “And maybe, for some, a
second marriage really is nothing but a less lonely way to wait for death. But
that’s not what it is for me, or for Carole. I wear both their rings, because
both of them have the same claim on me. Do you believe me?”
Kurt, after a moment, nods. He used to feel angry, betrayed, indignant for the
sake of his mother’s memory. But ultimately, he’s never doubted his dad loves
Carole too.
“Your mom lit up my life, but we used to argue like you wouldn’t believe, too,
” his dad says, letting out a teary laugh. “But we toughed it out through the
hard parts until we were able to cycle back to the incredible joy, because
giving up was never an option. That certainty and commitment—I think it’s what
keeps Found couples going. I felt it with your mom, and I feel it with Carole.
If you’re—sure,a hundred percent sure, that you feel the same way about
Sebastian, then I know you have just as good a chance as any Found pair.”
He looks carefully at Kurt, who’s weeping again.
“I… I do, Dad,” he says. “I look at my hand, and I just feel so angry.It’s not
right.”
His dad presses a kiss to his forehead.
Chapter End Notes
     There will also be a normal chapter on Saturday! Then I start
     wringing my hands about how to keep your fic supply coming.
     Also Burt is the best dad and no one will ever convince me otherwise.
***** Staying On The Boat (May, 2012) *****
Chapter Summary
     “I’m not your boyfriend, Kurt. We both know it ended when your Name
     wasn’t mine,” Sebastian says, and his voice is solemn and wet, like a
     eulogy. Fuck, Sebastian Smythe is crying. Kurt can’t see through his
     tears. “Just—give me some time, okay, and then we can go back to
     being best friends.”
     Kurt and Sebastian go through some hard times as they attempt to
     figure out what Kurt's Name means for them.
Chapter Notes
See the end of the chapter for notes
Staying on the Boat (May 2012)
When Kurt and his dad finally get to Dalton, the sun has long set.
He’s wearing his brightest clothes and the breezy scarf Sebastian bought him at
a market in France over spring break, light gloves even though it’s May. In a
basket on his lap is a cake and a stolen bottle of champagne his dad turned a
blind eye to.
His dad looks at him for a long time from across the stick shift, his hands
tight on the steering wheel. Suddenly, he grabs him in a gruff hug.  
“I love you,” Dad says, and Kurt nods, ignoring the tears springing to his
eyes.  
Kurt checks himself back into the dorm with apologies to the RA, who looks torn
between sympathy and curiosity, but doesn’t bother going back to his room.
Instead, he knocks on Sebastian’s door.
Sebastian doesn’t come.
He waits one minute, two, raps again.
Some of the boys, especially the underclassmen, are doing a bad job of
pretending like they have business out in the hall, he thinks, after another 2
minutes.
He knocks again, harder. He can hear the whispers starting up behind him.  
“Sebastian!” he says loudly after another minute. “I know you’re in there.
Practice or conditioning or whatever else athletes do end at 6, Warblers’
rehearsal ends at 8, and you’ve got Chemistry tomorrow. There’s no way you
aren’t in there glaring at your cold tables —”
The door flings open and crashes into the wall. Sebastian is on the other side
glowering at him, and wow, he looks terrible. Kurt feels glad, in a small part
of his brain, that he’s not alone in looking like shit. Seb’s eyes are red-
rimmed and his hair is a mess. He looks like he had right after Karofsky’s
attempted suicide.
Kurt acheswith longing
“It’s fucking ICE tables, not cold tables,“ Seb spits out. “And will you stop
yelling and go away, it’s 9 PM in the middle of the week, you’re going to get
written up—“
“Then let me in, asshole,” Kurt says, pushing his way past Sebastian and
surveying the room. He was right, that’s Sebastian’s chemistry homework on his
table. But judging by the balled-up papers, it’s not going very well. Not to
mention the smell.
“You should air the room out,” he says, forced lightness, wrinkling his nose.
He drops his basket and goes for the window.
“Don’t touch that!” Sebastian says, pulling him back by the arm with more force
than necessary. Kurt winces in pain, and Sebastian drops his grip immediately.
Regret flashes over his face for a moment before anger resurfaces again.
“Don’t touch my stuff, Kurt. What are you doing here?” Sebastian demands.
“I always could be, before,” Kurt says, quietly, suddenly so tired. He stares
up at Sebastian, who seems to… deflate, under Kurt’s weary gaze.
“It’s not before,” Sebastian says at last, falling into his desk chair and
looking away. Kurt sits down opposite him, on the bed. He wishes Sebastian
would sit beside him, like they always do, so that he could at least feel his
steady presence, take strength from it.
“I brought cake, from your favorite shop,” Kurt finally settles on, as a reply.
“And some sandwiches. I even snuck in champagne. I thought we could… celebrate.
For my 18th birthday. Since we didn’t on the day.” He rises to show Sebastian,
but is stopped by the incredulous look Sebastian is giving him.
“You want to celebrate. Your birthday.With me,” Sebastian repeats.
“Of course,” Kurt says. He grips his thighs, the pain grounding him and pulling
back the tears starting to prickle at the corners. Not again. He has to have
this conversation first. “It’s still my birthday, regardless of what—of what
else—and I want to celebrate it with my boyfriend and best friend.”
Sebastian pointedly leans back, gripping the armrests until his knuckles are
white. “I’m not your boyfriend,” he says.
“You are!” Kurt snaps, the stunned hurt enough to make the indignant tears
start rolling down his cheeks. “I say you are, so—so—”
Sebastian’s face suddenly cracks, and there’s so much anguish there that Kurt
can only cry harder.
He hates, hates himself. This faceless Blaine Andersonand whoever his fucking
parents are. Why couldn’t Kurt just have been Unnamed?
He would’ve preferred to be Unnamed, then to have the pain in Sebastian’s voice
shred his heart like shards of glass this way.
He reaches out for Sebastian, who finally, finally rises and closes the
distance between them.Kurt pulls him in tight.
“I’m not your boyfriend, Kurt. We both know it ended when your Name wasn’t
mine,” Sebastian says, and his voice is solemn and wet, like a eulogy. Fuck,
Sebastian Smytheis crying. Kurt can’t see through his tears. “Just—give me some
time, okay, and then we can go back to being best friends.”
Kurt shakes his head. “You aremy boyfriend.” He says, again, putting as much
conviction in that sentence as he can. Kurt gestures blindly to the bed behind
him. “We fuck in that bed, and we sing together and dance together and my dad
hates you and your dad loves me. You’re my boyfriend, andI fucking love you and
no one gets to tell me otherwise. No one.”
“And what if I did, if I said I can’t do it anymore?” Sebastian says.
Kurt opens his mouth to impress onto Sebastian again just how committed Kurt
was to this relationship. And then closes it.
He—he’d been too busy being devastated, too busy reconfiguring the fairytale
life he thought he’d have. He hadn’t though about... But of course.
If Kurt’s Name isn’t Sebastian’s, then Sebastian’s isn’t Kurt’s.
And if that were the case, no matter how much Sebastian might love him—and Kurt
knows he does, knows it bone-deep—why should Sebastian keep dating Kurt? When
his Name might waltz in at any moment? When Kurt’smight? There are plenty of
less-complicated boys he can bury the pain in, until it scarred over
Kurt wants to throw himself at Sebastian’s mercy, beg him to stay. But he
can’t, because he knows it wouldn’t work. If Sebastian is anything, it’s
practical.
He can’t for the life of him think of a response, and he feels like he’s being
eaten inside-out by his warring emotions.
Fuck, why does Kurt keep crying?
Kurt realizes, with a gut punch of loss, that he probably won’t ever have
Sebastian’s soft fingers brushing away his tears again. Or cupping his cheeks,
or smoothing down his shoulders the way they do when Kurt feeling emotional
over some sappy rom-com.
Sebastian watches him cry, and keeps his hands away. Sebastian sits there, and
he doesn’t look like the boyfriend and best friend Kurt knows.
Kurt supposes he isn’t, anymore.
But then, Sebastian iscupping his cheeks, brushing away his tears with a thumb.
The touch feels whisper light on his skin.
“Okay, Sebastian says, quietly. “Okay, okay,” he presses his lips against Kurt.
Kurt opens for him, sweetly, automatic, the salt mingling with Sebastian’s
taste and scent.
When Sebastian pulls back, Kurt’s tears have dried, though he’s still sniffing
wetly.
“Okay,” Sebastian repeats, again. He smiles, his eyes dark. “If you’re sure,
why not?”
Kurt takes it.
He pulls Sebastian in first, this time, doing what he’s wanted to do ever since
the Name first formed. He grasps Sebastian’s beloved face in his hands and
savages his lips.
It’s painful. He tastes blood. But then Sebastian’s mouth opens, and he’s eaten
away by hunger. The tears wetting Kurt’s face smear on Sebastian’s face,
heating up with their shared breaths.
Gravity tilts, and Kurt’s suddenly sprawled on the bed, Sebastian’s solid body
looming over him. Kurt grips Seb’s waist with both hands and takes him with
Kurt, down, down down.
===============================================================================
He wakes up, hours later, to the sound of silk sliding on skin.
Kurt peels his swollen eyes back, and goes cold.
Sebastian’s left hand is twisted in his right. His thumb rubs along the length
of Kurt’s ring finger, creating just a tiny amount of heat where the skin of
his glove moves down his skin.
"Can I see?” Sebastian asks, his eyes tracking the movement.
Kurt’s first instinct is, No, it’s ugly.
Then he breathes.
"I…” Kurt says, struggling to get the word out. “Will you change your mind?”
"I need to see it,” Sebastian says, which isn’t an answer at all.
Kurt bites his lips. Then, with shaking hands, hearing the ragged edges of
Sebastian’s breath, he slides off the glove, and splays them out for Sebastian.
Sebastian holds his hand by his fingertips, as if he were reaching out to touch
the hand of a princess, and pulls it closer, into the light. He traces the Name
with his eyes, then his thumb.
Blaine Anderson.
Kurt catches the rounded script on the last curve of the n,and twists his face
pointedly away.
After a beat, Sebastian’s grip on his hand falls away, and Kurt lets his hand
drop.
Kurt wants to tell Sebastian if Kurt didn’t think tattoos were tacky he’d go
out and get one of Sebastian’s name emblazoned over his heart. He wants to beg
Sebastian not to change his mind. He wants to tell Sebastian that he doesn’t
care that it’s not Sebastian’s name, they’re still Found. 
“I love you,” Kurt says again, instead, into the space between them, because he
always meant to say it the first time better. He hadn’t wanted to spit it out
in the middle of an argument.
Sebastian laughs like shards are stuck in his throat.
Then he’s rolling over and grabbing tight to Kurt, burrowing Kurt’s face into
his shoulder.
Kurt hugs back, with all the force he would use to immobilize a thrashing
frightened cat.
They must’ve have missed lights out hours ago, but Kurt has no desire to leave
Sebastian alone in this warm bed.
===============================================================================
 
They wake up late and scramble to class the next morning. Kurt is hopelessly
behind, but he struggles through somehow. The Warblers all look at him at
practice, their eyes warring between suspicion and concern. He turns a blind
eye.
After, he goes to Sebastian’s room, and breathes a sigh of relief when
Sebastian opens the door and steps back for him.
They still both look terrible, but better than yesterday.
They do homework, eat stale cake, drink champagne from the bottle. Kurt ends up
on the floor, sprawled all over Sebastian. The alcohol rush moves like bubbles
in his bloodstream, and before Kurt knows it, they’re lost in giggles together.
Kurt thinks they’ll be okay.
He wears the glove that day, an old costume ring for the next couple of weeks.
The first chance he gets, though, he borrows a car and drives to the jewelry
store the next town over—thinking with a pang of the silver rings probably
still languishing at the jeweler’s in Lima.
The people there don’t know he has a boyfriend. They look with eyes brimming
with sympathy as he grabs blindly at the first black ring that fits.
He can almost hear their silent thoughts: So youngand How?and At least they met
early.
White, Looking. Silver, Found. Gold, Married.
Black, Dead.
Chapter End Notes
     We're at what I consider the official halfway point of the story,
     guys!
     If you are uncertain about Sebastian's reaction here - well, his
     thought process is meant to be inscrutable
***** Who Needs Guidance? (May, 2012) *****
Chapter Notes
     Apologies for the delay, everyone, please have this atypically long
     chapter to make up for last week's missing chapter. I didn't mean to
     keep you in suspense (and I'm sorry if you felt anxious about it!).
     I had another chapter planned directly after the one 2 weeks ago, but
     I really felt like it was necessary to draw out the uncertainty
     before the NY move, and also bid a fond goodbye and close to the end
     of high school, and to highlight both New Directions and Warblers in
     showcasing how far Kurt has gone, just before the story shifts gears
     to New York.
     Given the newness of this chapter, and my general ineptness at
     allllll the characters of Glee (though it was fun writing them!), I
     apologize for any rough writing and characterization, and welcome any
     comments!
See the end of the chapter for more notes
Who Needs Guidance? (June, 2012)
"Kurt!" Mercedes screams, enveloping him in a warm hug as he slides into the
seat next to her. He squeezes back as tightly as he can, because Mercedes hugs
are the best.
When she lets go, he settles back and lets his eyes sweep across the rest of
the table.
Almost the entire crew—the ones he's close to, anyway—is there. Brittany &
Santana, shoulder-to-shoulder and glowing that Found Couple glow. Sam, staring
at Mercedes with a besotted look. Puck and Quinn, chatting happily away like
besties and not like people who had seen each other naked, had a baby together,
and then found out their Names were totally different. Artie, looking less of a
fashion crime than usual in a forest green sweater and talking to Mike, while
Tina looks as bright as her dress despite her recent breakup. And of course,
Rachel and Finn, who, unlike Mike and Tina, were on opposite ends of the table
and studiously Not. Talking.
There really was no replacement for New Directions and its incestuous dynamics,
Kurt thinks with a grin.
“Good of you to finally grace us with your presence, Kurt. Why do you look like
a woman who just made off with the last pair of heels in her size?” Santana
asks, as she brandishes a silver ice cream spoon—which still manages to look
like weapon clasped between her blood-red nails—at him.
“Because I missed you, even though you’re all ridiculous,” Kurt replies easily.
“And I’m sorry I’m late for seniors dinner, but Sebastian left for a game this
morning and I forgot to borrow his car key. It’s the weekend, so it took
forever to find someone with a car they were willing to lend me for the
evening. Pass me the bread, will you, Sam?”
With an amused grin, Sam slides the basket over to Kurt, who promptly picks one
up and bites into it with relish, ignoring the grease coating his fingers. He
doesn’t know if it’s the late hour or if he really did just miss Breadstix’s
oily bread this much.
Probably the latter, given how he almost choked up as he walked in the door and
saw Breadstix’s Mediterranean décor, which is about as authentic and classy as
motel room art.
“Are they treating you right at that rich school of yours, Kurt?” Finn says
with a concerned frown on his face, as he waves over a waiter. Kurt promptly
rattles off an order for his guilty pleasures—chicken spaghetti carbonara and a
cheesecake a la mode for later—and turns back to see everyone staring at him.
“You’re eating carbohydrates at night now?” Quinn asks, at the same time as
Santana says, “Is there a reason you’re eating like someone who ran out of food
stamps and it’s the first of the month?”
Brittany frowns, “Wait, they have stamps with food on them? Can I request one
with a chili on it?”
While Santana plants a sickeningly sweet peck to Brittany’s lips, Kurt scowls
and grabs another breadstick. “It’s like, 8:30, I haven’t had dinner, and I
sing and dance every other day. I can eat carbohydrates if I want to.” He
prefers not to tell them that it's because when Sebastian first came across
Kurt’s calorie-counting notebook, he laughed and laughed and laughed, and then
tumbled him back into bed with a comment that he prefers “men with a bit more
meat on their twinky bones.”
Sebastian, deservedly, did not get laid that day, but it did make Kurt feel a
bit silly sticking to those tight rules, especially when he knew they were more
about his control issues than his health or even appearance. 
“Anyway, catch me up, what were we talking about?” Kurt says, as the waiter
hustles back with his order.
“My dads are making me leave twoof the five suitcases I’ve got packed for New
York here. I keep telling them that no, they can't ground ship them later,
because what if I successfully talk my way into a cast party and need options?”
Rachel says.
Artie smiles, and translates, “By that, she means we were talking about all the
great plans all you seniors have. Except for Finn, you’re all scattering across
the country."
Kurt bites back words at that, even though he dearly wants to go on a
rant. He’s already lectured Finn enough, and even dumped a whole bunch
of military college pamphlets on the East Coast in Finn's lap when he was at
home recently. But Finn resolutely opted to attend the local military school.
So while Santana, Puck, and Mercedes all headed West, and Rachel and Kurt
headed East, Finn was staying right here in Lima.
Finn glances quickly at Kurt’s tight lips and not very subtly moves the
conversation along. “Well, anyway, do you guys have anything you need to do in
the last couple of months before leaving?”
Kurt digs into his spaghetti and listens idly as they all describe to-dos, from
the mundane, like saying thank-you to teachers (he gets gossip updates on his
favorite Mr. Schuester and crazy coach lady along the way), to the insane,
like streaking naked through McKinley's halls as a seniors prank.
It's fun, being in the company of good friends and mediocre food. Hearing
Mercedes talk about the song ideas she has for her indie album, hearing Puck
divulge his yearly hook-up goal in LA and then try to defend having a number to
Quinn.
"But I'm in a new city! Why shouldn’t I have a goal for how many women I want
to meet in LA? Kurt probably has them for gay guys in New York too!" Puck says.
And that makes Kurt zone back in the on the conversation with an unpleasant
snap. The warm feelings dissipate, and he sits forward.
“What?” he asks with a frown.
He hears a sharp kick under the table, and then Puck’s yelling, “Ow! Quinn,
what was that for?”
“I have a boyfriend, Puck,” Kurt says, his voice steady.
He can feel eyes go towards his black ring, and fights the urge to take his
hand off the table.
“We know you do right now, sweetie,” Mercedes says, and Kurt bristles at her
mama-voice and the right now. “Puck was just talking faster than he can think.”
“I don’t have a boyfriend right now,I’ll have a boyfriend in New York, too. Seb
and I aren't going to be looking for anything,” Kurt says tightly, and it's
getting harder and harder to rein in his temper. They’re monogamous, Seb gave
away his last box of condoms to some desperate Dalton boys a month ago.
There’s an awkward silence, and just when Kurt thinks everyone’s just going to
let it go and they can go back to having their nice reunion dinner, Mike—nice,
polite, quiet-all evening Mike—speaks up. 
“Are you sure about that, Kurt? I mean, I’m not saying Sebastian will cheat or
anything, but have you guys had a frank conversation about being long-distance
and explored all your options?—whether you’ll break it off, or open it up,
or…?” Mike asks, very reasonably.
Kurt's too surprised he doesn't even have a response, and can only blink and
blink at Mike. And as if that’s the cue they all needed, all the boys
start jumping on his boyfriend at once.
“I don’t know, man, he might. Guy’s got a worse reputation than I did, you
know? And that’s saying something, because I had a massivereputation,” Puck
says.
“Since we’re on the subject, I don’t get why you’re still with him, Kurt,” Finn
adds. “We didn’t say much before, since you were happy and there aren’t that
many gay guys in Ohio, even though we all remembered how he acted
at competitions. But wouldn’t it be better to break it off before you head off
to New York?”
“That really does seem like the best, doesn’t it?” Artie says, “Rates of
success for long-distance relationships are a little better than 50, but given
your 18th birthday has passed… it's hard to see it working out long-term. And
objectively speaking, there are probably better prospects in—“
“I would appreciateit if you guys shove a breadstick in your mouth right about
now,” Kurt says abruptly. "Otherwise, I'm going to stand up and
go, right now, because I came to catch up with my old friends, not to listen to
a bunch of gossip queens speculate about my relationship or throw mud at my
boyfriend. Who, if it were any of your business—which it fucking isn't—is
gorgeous and intelligent and loyal and way too proud to lie and too selfish to
share."
They blink and blink at him, even Santana. Finn opens his mouth again, with a
stubborn expression, but Kurt stands up immediately, his chair screeching
against the linoleum floor. He knows it's one of the last times they'll all be
together like this, the original New Directions, and as dramatic as he is, Kurt
doesn't actually want to make a scene at the Breadstix of all places. But. But
he can't just sit there and pretend these words didn't hurt. 
Finn shuts his mouth. Kurt glares them all down, until they start mumbling
about some bad freshman singer.
He sits back down. 
They speak about unrelated topics for the rest of the night, while Kurt tries
not to knife at his spaghetti too aggressively and skips on his dessert because
he no longer feels hungry.
The boys occasionally look nervously at him, but he can’t read the girls.
Mercedes spends much of the night with her arm slung around his waist, which he
tries not to feel comforted by, because he was angry at her too. 
Their words play back in his head again and again, and settle like acid in his
stomach. 
===============================================================================
When Kurt finally leaves the dinner for his car, it's with Santana and Rachel
in tow. He doesn't really know when he got designated driver for the two divas.
Normally, he would protest that he was way more fabulous than them both and by
rights shouldn't get driving duties. But today, Kurt’s too busy staring at his
phone, trying to compose a text message to Sebastian. The cursor flickers on an
empty draft, just like it has for the last three minutes of walking.
"You might break your face frowning, Kurt," Santana observes nicely.
"Or get premature wrinkles, and who'd want you on stage then?" Rachel says,
also very nicely.
Kurt needs other friends.
"It's just..." Kurt bites his lips, "What's a way to tell your boyfriend that
all your friends have doubts about a possible long-distance relationship
without distracting him for the game or insulting him?"
"'All of my friends think our long distance relationship is doomed, but it's
okay, because the heartbreak will fuel a thousand of my performances?'" Rachel
suggests.
"'You're crazy, Berry," Santana says, then follows with, "'Can you prove to me
you're not a cold-hearted slut with Disney prince hair? Because New Directions
think so and they're totally right.’"
Kurt knows Santana's just being herself—but he can’t help it—he flushes and
spins around, mouth already open and ready to repeat his tirade. But Santana
just rolls her eyes and waves her hands in his face, as if she were batting
away an annoying fly.
"Oh, suck it up, Kurt," she says. rolling her eyes. "Sure, the boys were harsh,
but they were just trying to wake you up. I don't even have a problem with
Sebastian, because—let's face it—he's basically the less funny male version of
me. But you need to be realistic about what's going to happen with New York,
okay?"
Santana pauses, and then looks away, at the streetlights in the distance. "I
don't even know what's going to happen with Brittany while we're long-distance,
and she's my Name."
Kurt swallows. He looks down at the blinking cursor of his phone screen.
Warm hands wrap around waist from behind, and Rachel's face comes to rest
comfortably on his shoulder. Kurt turns his head, and breathes slowly in her
citrusy-rose scent. He didn’t realize how much he’s missed it.
"Don't worry about it, Kurt, or you really will get wrinkles," Rachel says.
"We're meant to be stars, right? Whoever became one by conforming? The more
risks you take, the more you're signaling to the world that it needs to let you
through."
Kurt's heart sinks, as he processes that Rachel too—probably the craziest
person he knows—thinks of Sebastian as a risk. He tries to not it get to him,
because he knows they think they're validating him, taking care of him, but—
"Sure," Kurt says, trying to strike an easy tone. 
He looks again at his blank phone screen, bites his lips, and shoots off a text
quickly, then stows the phone deep inside his pocket.
"Let's get going," Kurt says, hooking an arm each of the girls and letting them
lead the strut the rest of the way to the parking lot.
I miss you, the text read, because whatever else Kurt's thinking, that's
unequivocally true.
===============================================================================
 After checking himself back into Dalton, Kurt finds himself standing near the
entrance and letting out a long sigh. He knows it's late, and he definitely
ought to go for that beauty sleep. But his thoughts, they just wouldn't shut
up. 
Almost without his conscious decision, his feet begin moving in a long winding
detour away from the dorms and to the echoing halls of Dalton’s main building.
It’s chilly, and almost pitch black except for the moonlight streaming in
through the arch windows. He thinks with some amusement that if this were a
year or two ago, he’d be walking huddled in on himself, frightened out of his
mind that some ghost—or worse, some creep—was hiding just around the corner.
There’s a reason he almost never watches scary movies.
But now? The school’s too familiar, overridden by too many memories of dancing
and singing and laughing in the halls in his Warbler uniform. And soon, it’ll
be over. Perhaps for the first time, Kurt lets himself get overwhelmed with the
full force of his premature fear and nostalgia, as his feet trace their usual
path.
Soon, he's standing right outside the Warblers' practice room. Where he's spent
half of his time at Dalton in, Where he'll soon have to say good-bye.
Except—his feet pause on the last half-step.
Kurt frowns at the light spilling out from the open door.
Kurt locked the door himself last practice. And though most of the Committee
Warblers have keys, there’s no reason any Warbler would be in there this time
of the night,since they got knocked out at National semi-finals earlier this
spring and had only a couple of garden party gigs coming up, where all they
have to do to look cute and wink at old ladies.
He creeps slowly to the door, and edges it open a tiny bit wider.
Where he promptly sees Hunter with a bottle of Courvoiseir cognac in hand
sprawled all over the piano bench, and a couple of feet away from him, a
drunken-faced Jeff and Nick in wingback chairs.
Kurt rolls his eyes and pushes the door open the rest of the way. He narrows
his eyes at them.
Jeff and Nick, upon seeing him at the door in his white blazer like an avenging
angel, jump and hastily pull themselves up. Hunter grins and gives a salute.
“What’s up, boss?” He slurs, “How was dinner with the Lost Directions?”
“Wow, where have I heard that one before. Oh. Right. From your mouth for the
past two years. You need more quips, Clarington,” Kurt replies. He points to
the alcohol. "Is that Sebastian's?"
Hunter shrugs. "Well, it's not like he's here to enjoy it. Want some?" He
indicates the tumblers on the piano surface. There was even a bucket of ice
next to them, because why go halfway.
He really shouldn't give the bastard any satisfaction by taking him up on his
offer. But... after the reunion he just had... it was... tempting... just a
little. 
He looks at Jeff and Nick, who slowly begin to relax as they see the appraising
way he's taking in the alcohol.  
Jeff smiles mischievously. "It's very good," he says, while Nick groans and
leans back on his chair. "And it makes you forget about impending finals. Ugh,
I’m going to fail calculus, man," Nick says. 
Hunter scoffs as he pours another drink. "At least if you fail they won't make
you repeat the grade. Again." He shakes the glass at Kurt. "How about it?
Kurt eyes the cognac again. Well, Dalton’s RAs were the most liberal in all of
Ohio—or too echauste to bother, maybe. And Kurt supposes it isthe weekend. And
eerily quiet, with seniors on the brink of graduating and everyone else
preoccupied with finals.
"Well, then, give me the glass," Kurt says imperiously, drapes his white blazer
elegantly over a chair, and sits himself down.
Hunter rolls his eyes but obediently passes the glass. Kurt takes a big gulp,
and then promptly coughs half it up. He really doesn't know how Sebastian
stands this stuff. It makes his eyes water and burns half his throat, but
doesn't do a thing for his headache and bad mood. 
“Woah, slow down there, Gayface, I don’t want to cart you back to your room.
What’s got you all up in knots?” Hunter says, and though the words are as
mocking as ever, there’s a hint of real concern there.
Irrationally—and he recognizes that it isirrational, even as he feels the
pinpricks of annoyance—Kurt bristles at the nickname. 
“My name is Kurt,” he says shortly. 
Hunter only hums in reply, and they fall silent.  
Kurt stares down at the glass in his hand, watching the broken refractions of
the amber liquid. 
He doesn’t get Hunter, still, even though Sebastian and Hunter remain good
friends and of course Kurt now knows Sebastian as well as his own right hand.
He had once asked Seb about their friendship, torn between confusion,
resentment, and a possessiveness that prickled.
"He's like me, except he never learnt better," Seb had said, and let it go at
that, no matter how much prompting Kurt did.
And because, for all that Hunter is still an annoying bastard, Sebastian really
had been having a moderating influence on his more atrocious behavior, and
Kurt’s got no complaints about his performance in the Warblers, Kurt had no
choice but to let it go.
It doesn’t change the fact that when Seb calls him by mean nicknames, Kurt
feels warm inside, and when other Warblers do it, he rolls his eyes. But when
Hunter does it, Kurt still wants to slushy him in his smarmy little face.
Kurt's gaze slides to the two boys opposite him, leaning comfortably against
each other. Nick and Jeff though. Them he likes. Not as well as say,
Trent, whose door he probably would’ve knocked on with a bottle of beer if he
hadn’t passed by the practice room. But he likes them well enough.
They aren’t bad guys. They just tend to follow where the stronger personalities
lead, in that careless manner that only privileged white boys possess. He knows
one has an investment banker dad, and the other has society lawyers for
parents, but he can’t remember which is whose right now.
Kurt tilts his head consideringly. Then again, what did he know. He's been
singing and dancing with them for nearly two years, has been in their houses,
met their parents. But what did that guarantee about his judgment, really? 
Beyond them being best friends who did anything and everything together - what
did he really know about their friendship, how they support each other?
Did anyone outside a relationship ever know? Did anyone inside a relationship?
"Do you know, Jeff? What Nick means to you?" He says, loudly. And then blinks.
Well, he wasn't expecting that to actually come out of his mouth. 
But Jeff apparently doesn't think that's a weird question, because he only
smiles and says, easily, "Yeah, he's my best friend." A pause. And then,
dramatically, "And we made out once when we were 14 but decided we both liked
boobs too much."
Nick flushes and yells Jeff! while Hunter cackles. Jeff grins shamelessly back,
his cheeks flushed pink and his cherubic hair tousled.
"That face must get you everything," Kurt says wonderingly. Jeff only smiles
some more, which is as good as a yes.
Then, as if an after-thought, Jeff adds, "But I guess you and Sebastian didn't
have that same best friend experience, huh? "
This time it's Kurt's turn to flush. 
"No," he says, looking down at his glass and remembering that cool summer
night, the fairy lights casting shadows on the grass and the heat of
Sebastian's mouth. "But we're both gay, which probably helps."
When he looks back up, Nick is staring seriously at him. Kurt frowns, which
seems to prompt Nick, because he says, hesitatingly, "Well... I mean, we're—all
of us, we're glad you guys are working it out. We were really worried, when you
were gone. Before the seniors left, they told us to leave it alone and let you
guys figure it out, so we were never really sure how much to say. But then you
guys did mostly work it out yourself, until... Anyway."
Hunter, who'd been suspiciously quiet so far, snorted. "Oh please, David also
thought they were going to be Found. He was all looped up on hormones from
finding his match, so you can't really blame him, but Sebbie didn't exactly
have the same luck, did he?"
Jeff and Nick whispers, too loudly, Hunter.Kurt flushes again, this time out of
anger. 
He opens his mouth to retort, but Hunter goes on blithely, "What? Like we don't
all know already that your Name isn't Sebastian's. I don't know who you think
you're fooling with that black ring, honestly."
Liquid sloshes out of the tumbler as he unintentionally slams the tumbler down.
"So what? Does that mean we're doomed to failure?” Kurt asks.
"Shut up, Hunter. Kurt, let's--" Jeff and Nick say soothingly, but Kurt's anger
and confusion feel ready to boil over and hurled at Hunter’s smug face. 
He continues, his voice rising with every word until he's shouting from his
chair at Hunter. "Spend a lot of time wishing for break-up, do you? Dream and
cackle about how I'm going to nurse my broken heart in ballad after ballad in
New York, Clarington? Just dying to take Sebastian around and have him live it
up again, is that it?" 
Hunter stares and stares at him, and then bursts into laughter.
"Oh my God, Kurt, how does Sebastian stand you?" Hunter says, sniggering. "Are
you always such a drama queen? Way to put words in my mouth. When the fuck did
I say I thought it wouldn't work out?”
"How the fuck is what you said not the same as—" Kurt begins loudly again.
But Hunter's voice drops all its light-hearted maliciousness, and that's
strange enough that Kurt stops speaking. "But you seem to have thought about it
plenty," he says. "Maybe a break-up is exactlywhat you've been wondering about?
Maybe that's what you want?" Hunter narrows his eyes at Kurt. "If you're just
looking for an excuse to dump him without feeling like an asshole, you should
just go for it now, instead of waiting around hoping he'll—what did you call
it? Live it up?"
"I'm not looking to break up with him!" Kurt says, stunned.  
That’s when he notices that Nick had somehow moved to his side without him
noticing. With a gentle hand, Nick pushes him back into his chair, which he'd
unconsciously risen up from.
"We know, Kurt, Everyone with eyes can see you two are in love—" Nick says.
Except Hunter cuts in again, this time with a snort.
"Yeah, some love. What a strong foundation of faith they have, with one of them
sitting there waiting for the other to cheat on him, and the other just
counting down the days until it ends," he drawls.
"Sebastian doesn't—I don't think—" Kurt says, and he hates that he’s tripping
over his words in front of Hunter.
Hunter snorts again. He grins viciously at Kurt, who feels like a prey, caught
under the gaze of a predator and turning around and around to find itself
backed into a corner. "Really? 100%? You'd swear to it, on your rainbow-colored
heart and on your last Jimmy Choo shoes?"
The words of his friends swirl around his head again. Kurt bites his lips,
because he—he—mortifyingly, he feels tears beading up in his eyes as Hunter
stares at him, maybe because of the late night, maybe because of the alcohol.
He's always been an emotional drunk. 
Strangely, the glisten in his eyes break whatever spell Hunter's been in. He
groans, and his gaze and voice loses that sharp-edged viciousness.
"Oh my God, don't,"Hunter says, rubbing his face with his hands. "If Sebbie
hears, he'll pummel me in the back of the dressing room for making his precious
'Princess' cry."
Before Kurt can retort as ifhe’d ever give Hunter the satisfaction. Hunter
sighs. He turns away to look intensely at his drink.
Then, his spine straightens, military style. He picks up the tumbler, downs in
in one go, and turns back to look at Kurt with the most serious expression Kurt
has ever seen on Hunter Clarington's face.
Then, in an equally serious voice, one that Kurt doesn’t think he’s ever heard
before, Hunter says: 
"Look, I knew him as a kid, all right? And his family was kind of messed up,
and then he went to Paris and slept with a bunch of boys and got even more
messed up. And it was good for me, because I fucked up plenty too. Got held
back, got kicked out of military school. It was great. Sebbie would come back
during the holidays and we’d laugh about how, now that we were in the same
grade, we could terrorize everyone together, if only we were in the same
school."
He pauses then, flicks his eyes up and down Kurt. When he starts again, his
voice is laced with equal parts affection and vitriol. “But then, that actually
happened. He transferred back. Except there you were, and now he’s all reformed
and shit. And I can’t even be angry about it, because he’s so fucking happy.
And I’m sitting here, still fucked up, and still alone, and with Jane Doe on my
ring finger."
There's another pause. Hunter stares at Kurt, his eyes black, while Kurt looks
back, his head swarming with thoughts. At last, he turns away, and reaches out
to mechanically pour himself another drink. He doesn’t look at Kurt, and so
Kurt almost misses Hunter’s last words, said into the full tumbler he’s
bringing again to his mouth.
“So the boy’s not going to ‘live it up’ and throw you away, all right? Unless
you do it first,” Hunter says, and then downs the glass.
Kurt swallows.
He looks first at Nick, then at Jeff, who are also staring at Hunter with mixed
emotions on their faces. 
Jeff breaks the silence first.
"Wow dude, you’re actually human,” Jeff says.
Hunter snorts again. "No, I’m drunk." he says, shaking the glass in his hand.
“And if you say another word about it, I’m going to smash this cup in your
pretty face."
Jeff pouts, while Nick sighs and runs his hand through his hair.
He sits down in his chair again, opposite Kurt, and looks at him with clasped
hands. 
"Look... I'm not... sure... about all that," Nick begins, haltingly. "But. You
should know, when you were gone, Sebastian was terrible to be around. He was
both completely zoned out and a total slave driver. When you came back, we
actually threw a secret party to toast your reunion. For what it's worth... We—
all the Warblers, we’re. Uh. We’re rooting for you two."
Kurt looks at Nick, who stares back with radiating sincerity. He looks at Jeff,
who pats Nick on the back and nods. He looks at Hunter, who's having another
drink with an unamused smirk on his face.
Finally, Kurt nods.
He feels relieved, and a little sad, and a lot exhausted.
Jeff sighs, comes up to Hunter, and swipes his drink. While Hunter splutters,
he offers it to Kurt. 
"Here, bottoms up, and then I think you should go to bed,” he suggests.
“You’re probably right,” Kurt concedes. He drinks it in one go and tries his
best to hold back the wince. When Kurt puts the glass back down, he can’t help
catching Hunter’s eyes, staring at him with an inscrutable light.
It prompts Kurt to say, the words thick on his tongue, "Thanks. I'll... I'll
keep what you said in mind."
Hunter lifts an eyebrow, but the odd look to his eyes disappears, and he grins
his normal smarmy smile. Which paradoxically, makes Kurt feel better. 
Kurt stands and heads for the door. And then, halfway out, he turns back.
"Could you—" Kurt asks. Peters out, has to try again. "Would you mind—not
telling Sebastian..."
He doesn’t even know how to finish that sentence.
Hunter shrugs. "What would I even bother to tell him about?"
Kurt nods, and tries not to show any relief at that. He goes.
===============================================================================
 When he wobbles back in his room and pulls his phone out of his very very
tight jeans as he's stripping down for bed, Kurt sees three messages from Seb,
sent an hour ago in quick succession.
From: Meerkat
Miss you too, babe. Go to sleep.
Can't wait to trounce St John's tomorrow, so you can welcome me back with your
Warbler tie and nothing else on.
Yes, that's a hint, Princess ;)
God, he misses Sebastian. It doesn't matter that all this awkwardness and fear
are threatening to swallow them both whole, Kurt still misses him with a pain
so paralyzing it was almost sweet. Is this what the entire year in New York is
going to be like? How is Kurt going to get through it without going crazy?
"What is it, Kurt?" Sebastian's groggy voice greets him. “It's haaaaaahh"--
there's a wide yawn--"ass-o-clock at night, and I have a game tomorrow."
Kurt blinks, staring at his hand - which had punched in Seb's speed dial almost
without his conscious decision.
"Sorry, sorry," he said, wincing. He knows Seb takes his game performance
seriously. Kurt even gets kicked back to his room the night before game day.
"Go back to sleep. I was just--I just, missed you, that's all. Uhm..."
"Ugh," Sebastian groans. There's a shuffle of sheets, and then Seb speaks
again. "You sound drunk and like you're having a Kanye-level freak-out. What's
the crisis?"
Kurt pauses, and then laughs awkwardly. Even though a part of him is dying to
share the entire day with Sebastian, most of him is cringing at the prospect.
Finally, he settles on saying, with as light a tone as possible, "I just had a
heart-to-heart with Hunter about you, that's all. That's enough to give anyone
a crisis. It's creepy when Tinsel toy soldiers become animated."
Sebastian hums, but even that sounds sleepy. "Yay, best friend and boyfriend
bonding, kumbaya. Great job avoiding the topic, babe."
And even though he was caught red-handed, that makes Kurt smile.
"You're not even listening anyway," he teases, and Sebastian hums his
agreement. He sounds half-asleep again already.
Kurt pauses, suddenly struck by a thought that he knows will turn this day from
crappy to not so bad, and put him to sleep in one stroke.
He asks, quietly, into the phone. "Will you sing to me? You don't have to—I
don't know how to explain but—please?"
Sebastian groans. There's a shuffle of sheets, and then Sebastian says in a
cranky voice, "What teenage boy wants a lullaby and not phone sex? Next time if
you wake me up, I'm demanding phone sex. And don't think this means you get
away with not talking about this weird fucking mood when I get back." Which
Kurt knows means a yes.
He gets into bed, phone pressed to his ear and blankets pulled snug around him.
"OK," Kurt says, once he's fully settled. "Falling Slowly? You know, from
the movie Oncethat we watched together?"
Kurt can just see Seb rolling his eyes, his mouth quirking up just to the side,
as he says, "Spoiled brat."
Then, from the phone speakers comes Sebastian's tenor voice, a little deeper
and rougher with sleep.
                   "Take this sinking boat and point it home
                             We've still got time
                  Raise your hopeful voice, you have a choice
                            You'll make it now..."
As the verse closes, Sebastian's voice trails off, and Kurt doesn't know if he
forgot the lyrics or if he were just falling asleep again, but Kurt picks it up
for him, singing in a whisper the next verse:
                      "Falling slowly, eyes that know me
                              And I can't go back
                        Moods that take me and erase me
                             And I'm painted black
                           You have suffered enough
                           And warred with yourself
                            It's time that you won"
He lets the last note trail off into a comfortable silence between the two of
them.
"Good night," Kurt says. From the other side, he hears only light breathing.
He hangs up, and is carried off to sleep by the echo of Sebastian's singing. 
Chapter End Notes
     I basically have 2 more weeks of chronological content, so I will try
     my best to keep the updates coming regularly, but please know I'm a
     full time student with finals quickly approaching—which is to say, I
     can no longer promise regular Saturday updates. Nonetheless, I
     promise you this story will be finished (and is mostly finished,
     honestly!)
     Sebastian's serenade: Falling_Slowly by Glen Hansard & Marketa
     Irglov, from Once
     (Is it meant to be prophetic? mwahahaha)
***** Interludes (2012-2013) *****
Chapter Summary
     "It gets easier, once they set a predictable schedule of Skype dates
     and calls and visits, but never easy."
     Kurt and Seb do long-distance, and they grow up. It's a little bit of
     a disaster, but in all the best ways.
Chapter Notes
See the end of the chapter for notes
Kurt’s senior spring and graduation and their summer together burn out too
fast, and before he knows it he’s on a plane to New York. When he isn’t
blissfully happy, Kurt is frightened out of his mind about leaving Sebastian
behind with his doubts—or even, deep, dark inside, about himself forgetting
their relationship in the rush of Big Apple glamor and newness.
And long-distance is hard. Being apart is hard. Whoever says it isn’t is a
fucking liar.
Sometimes he misses Sebastian so much he does stupid things like smell the
shirt he stole out of Sebastian’s closet. Sometimes he’s too busy to think
about Sebastian at all, flirting back at one of the many many gay and cute boys
out of sheer horniness while calls to Seb go unmade, before he remembers in a
rush of shame—and those moments are somehow the most terrible of all.
It gets easier, once they set a predictable schedule of Skype dates and calls
and visits, but nevereasy.
**
“Kurt!” Sebastian yells, standing with his windswept hair in a crowd of
suitcases, and Kurt goes.
He crashes into Sebastian and reclaims his mouth, hard. When he pulls back—just
a little—Sebastian looks dazed.
He gathers himself quickly enough though, and smirks at Kurt as he says, “You
taste like toothpaste. What, came down the airplane prepared?”
“Yeah,” Kurt murmurs into his ear, “That’s not the only thing I prepared.”
He pulls away as Sebastian goes still.
And then Seb is pulling him and his luggage swiftly out of the airport and into
Seb’s car with its tinted windows—“What, bathrooms here not good enough?” Kurt
laughs, as Sebastian pushes him back against the leather seats. Seb answers,
seriously, “You’d bitch about all the germs, and I wouldn’t even get the thrill
of the mile high club out of it”—and they get down to reacquainting themselves
with each other.
Thirty delirious minutes later, they finally start rolling down the highway
back to Kurt’s home. The long flight and ridiculous Thanksgiving crowd was
worth it for this, Sebastian warm next to him, Kurt thinks, feeling so languid
he can’t even keep his eyes open long enough to respond to the insistent texts
coming in from New Directions.
***
Shockingly, his dad and Rachel become their greatest supporters.
His dad reminds him gruffly Sebastian is welcome to come for Christmas, and to
“bring that car of his so it can get the maintenance it deserves, the way that
engine sounds is a damn shame.”
“I’ll help you the next time I’m down, how’s that?” Kurt says cheekily, to
cover up the emotions rising in his throat.
  Rachel pulls him away from whoever is flirting with him with that thoughtless
air (or maybe she really just is that thoughtless, it’s hard to tell with
Rachel); drinks his drinks when he’s getting carried away; makes mock
sympathetic noises when he sobs into her shoulder some time halfway through the
year when Sebastian tells him he’s started to make trips to Scandals again.
It’s… more touching in context.   
***
“Wake up princess, we’re here. Your dad and Carole are waiting.”
As if on cue, his dad and Carole burst out the door, followed by Finn. Out of
their group, Finn is the only one who elected to stay near home, and Kurt used
to be angry at him about that. But looking at the lack of tension in Finn’s
shoulders—though no one has trained him out of not hunching, as if it actually
hid his bulk—he’s reminded that as many people have told him, different strokes
for different people.
Kurt swings out of the door and throws himself inelegantly at his dad, who hugs
him gruffly, and then moves on to Carole and Finn. He lets them coo over him a
bit— Carole admires his coat and sunglasses and how grown-up he looks, his dad
looks like he doesn’t know whether to look ecstatic or cry manly tears, and
Finn just claps his shoulders over and over again. Sebastian, on the other
hand, stands by the car looking awkward, which isn’t a very typical look on
him.
He’s about to go and pull Sebastian in, banking on Sebastian being willing to
indulge him after a long absence, when it’s his dad that surprises him
instead.    
“Sebastian,” his dad says, out of nowhere. Seb immediately straightens,
boarding school style. They exchange an intense eye wrestle, while Kurt debates
between rolling his eyes at the macho posturing and stepping in because it
actually doesmake him nervous. Finally, bare moments before Sebastian finally
cracks and looks away—Kurt can tell from his pressed lips—his dad nods.
Kurt breathes a sigh of relief when he puts a hand out, which Seb takes
nervously—and for good reason, his dad grips and shakes it so hard Kurt winces
with Seb in sympathy.
Then, his dad says, “Well, come in. It’s damn cold out here. You can wait until
you have to get back to your house. No reason Kurt always has to be the one to
visit yourhouse, especially when he’s here for Christmas with his family.”
Seb shoots endearingly nervous glances at Kurt. “Actually, Mr. Hummel, the
term’s not over, I wanted to pick up Kurt but I was hoping to be back at Dalton
earl—annnnnddd actually I will probably spend the weekend with my dad,” he
finishes quickly, noticing Kurt’s frantic crazy eyes, “so that should be fine.”
His dad hmphsbut leads them all back in, while Kurt and Seb exchange worried
looks and Finn the jerk gives them a thumbs up.
It is as mortifying as Kurt thought it might be. His dad grills Seb on
everything—from the boys he’s been with to his family to his past behavior with
the other New Direction members. Sebastian only gets granted a reprieve when
Finn strikes up conversation about his Found soon-to-be-girlfriend, whom he met
a couple of weeks ago, and Carole finally lures his dad away.
***
The Warblers are of course supportive, in that “Fucking talk your boyfriend
down from the ledge, he’s on a bloodthirsty rampage about ‘shoving our talent
up those judges’ asses’ for our loss at Nationals last year” way. His McKinley
high school friends are as confused about Sebastian and him as ever.
People around them don’t ask about what happened on his birthday—his black ring
speaks volumes—, but they know Kurt and Sebastian are an item still, and they
no longer stare in wonder at that fact, and that’s enough.
Kurt is rarely top of his class. Living and breathing music all day every day
is cutthroat and exhausting. But he’s getting there. And when Kurt is walking
the grimy streets of the city at 8pm, with sore feet while munching on a
convenience store sandwich… he feels himself falling in love, all over again,
with his dream, with New York City.
Sometimes, he catches the same wondering excitement in Sebastian’s voice, when
he’s soliciting feedback about a new performance set he’s thought of, when he’s
describing the colleges he’s been looking at, when he’s talking about the new
ethics class Dalton put on the course list.
Kurt’s always dreamt big, and he hopes—believes— Sebastian is dreaming with
him.
***
“They finally fixed the field in time for the spring season, so now it’s not a
disgrace when we have a home game—oh, hey, what’s up, Colin, Blake? This is
Kurt, just showing him all the ways Dalton continues to be a lame-ass school,”
Seb tells two boys who must be freshmen—was I ever really that young
looking?,Kurt thinks—smiling reverently at him.
Kurt hums thoughtfully as they continue their way around the school grounds.
“What is that, the 5th and 6th person to stop and say hi to you?” he says, half
jokingly. “Did the Warblers start throwing money at the audience during their
performances after I left?”
Seb scoffs even as he puts an arm around Kurt’s waist.
“Sorry to break it to you, babe, but we weren’t that badly hurt by your
graduation. But I am a big shot senior now. You’re lucky you bagged me when you
could.”  
Kurt laughs. But then he stops.
He turns and stares thoughtfully at Sebastian, who smirks in that way that
means he’s confused. The afternoon sun kisses Sebastian’s cheekbones and
collarbones, and Kurt knows he’s looking at the captain of the field lacrosse
team—state finalist—, the current undisputed captain of the Warblers—who didn’t
win first at Nationals but did get the Best All-Male Group award—, a member of
the National Honors Society, and a founding member of Dalton’s newly minted
GSA. And Kurt. Kurt is just so fucking proud. 
Sebastian’s starting to frown. “You know I’m joking right, Princess? I’m not—“
“Let’s go,” Kurt says, taking his hand and striding confidently back to the
Warblers’ practice room, which had better be empty or Kurt will make sure to
yell enough to make sure it became empty.
Pity Kurt was a guest and technically no longer allowed in the dorms. He’d try
his luck, but Seb was a card-carrying Reformed Bad Boy now.
“Where exactly?” Seb says, dragging his feet. “Dinner’s in half an hour and I
wanted to get you back before my meeting tonight.”
“The practice room, because I suddenly have an irresistible urge to worship
your cock,” Kurt says.
Sebastian unsurprisingly, comes along, and very enthusiastically participates
in this plan.
***
“Guess what I got in my email this morning,” Sebastian sing-songs, grinning
maniacally. Kurt counts, but it’s still at least a month out from college
decisions. Which means—
“You got accepted as summer intern at the ACLU in New York!” Kurt squeals.
Sebastian pouts. “I was setting up the big revealthere, babe. I was going to
complain about how they preferred college students and everything.”
Kurt laughs, “Oh, please, your dad pulled strings.” He feels like he should be
upset at the nepotism, except Sebastian’s dad had told Kurt directly on the
phone he’d be glad if Seb was with Kurt this summer in New York, and it means
that regardless of what happened with college letters, they’ll have those three
months together.
“But I know it was still hard, and I’m proud of you,” Kurt adds, because he is.
Seb scoffs, but he can’t hide the blush that rises to his cheekbones. “Well,
they get free labor out of it. Sucks it’ll be in nonprofit law, but given all
LGBTQ advocacy I do it was my best bet. Certainly makes my dad happy.”
Kurt smiles, because he has the sneaking suspicion that actually, Sebastian
will like the ACLU far more than the business law firm he was trying to talk
his way into.
“I won’t have much time though, they told me it wasn’t going to be a coffee-
and-copying internship,” Sebastian warns, and Kurt rolls his eyes.
“I’m also going to be working, Your Smugness,” Kurt shoots back, even though in
his head, he was making plans. Sunset picnics in Central Park, vintage shopping
in East Village while Seb sipped his iced frappe and complained, late nights in
Brooklyn, even later nights in the cramped and slightly gross apartment they’ll
certainly be sharing in June—he’d have to put together a calendar. Which he’d
have to hide from Seb or be mocked for it all summer.
“NYADA-backed summer performance camp for underprivileged kids, yada yada, very
moving, yada, I’ve been volunteering all year and they offered me the position
beforeapplications opened,yada yada, I remember,” Seb waves it away. “Honestly,
I can’t waitto see the kids ruin your clothes.”
“I’ll make you go with me to buy more,” Kurt says. He tries for exasperated,
but it’s ruined by the fact that he can’t stop smiling. In fact, he thinks
Sebastian deserves a reward and congratulations.
Kurt flashes a wicked smile.
“Speaking of gifts from you… I may or may not have finally put that Valentine’s
Day gift Hunter ordered in your name for me to use recently,” he offers
breezily.
He still remembers the luridly pink box that he’d pick up from the mailroom
Valentine’s Day afternoon, and the raised eyebrow he’d gotten from Jose—his
roommate, because if he had to room with Rachel, as much as he loved her, he’d
have murdered her the first time she swooned and stepped on his Hermes scarf.
Kurt had stared at the brand-new blue silicone vibe in confusion for half an
hour, because Sebastian would just say if he wanted to switch things up. And
anyway, three tickets from Ohio to New York for Kurt’s family to come up for
spring break had already popped into his inbox this morning that he knows he’s
not supposed to comment on.
 Then Sebastian had called Kurt and bitched out Hunter.
 Sebastian’s eyes grow hot.

“Is Jose out?” he asks, leaning into the screen.
“Yeah, and he’s probably at his hook-up’s,” Kurt says, putting on his sultry
chest voice. “And Rachel’s busy with an important recital tomorrow, so I’m all
free,and feeling incredibly happy and grateful.How should I show you?”
“By taking off all your clothes, and grabbing lube and that toy so I can tell
you how to use it. I’ve been too stressed to even masturbate. It’s been like,
five days, and it’s killing me,” Seb says back, and his hand drops out of view.
Kurt rolls his eyes, because why does he even bother with the seduction
sometimes.
“Fine,” he says. He locks the door, closes the blinds, and does just that. 
***
Sebastian and Kurt fight, because of course they do, and they fight hard.
They’re not cute sweet fights, they’re screaming and ugly and leave Kurt crying
in his room thinking this was all a mistake.
But Kurt calls, or Sebastian calls, and for Kurt, it’s not because he’s too
stubborn, but because not speaking to Sebastian about the crazy voice coach or
the insane winning outfit from Project Runway yesterday physically hurts.
They put the work in. They communicate, even if it’s in fits and starts and
liable to devolve into as much yelling and crying as the initial fight.
***
“Right, so explainto me again why it’s so necessary for a guy purportedly
monogamous to be going to a gay club,” Kurt says hotly. He can feel tears
beading in the corners of his eyes again.
“Get off your fucking high horse, Kurt!” Seb snaps, and while Kurt wisely chose
to not have this conversation over webcam, he can almost see Seb pacing up and
down his dorm room, kicking his lacrosse bag in the corner. “It’s not like you
don’t.I see all those Facebook photos!”
“I go to the NYADA spots! With Rachel!” Kurt yells back, willfully notthinking
about the many boys whose hands have strayed a tad too low and whose eyes
flicker up and down his body—and the way he would enjoy it, even though he
would never ever let it get too far. “It’s not the same as youjust up-and-
deciding to go to Scandals again! Which might as well be the Lima equivalent of
Craiglist, it even reeks like it.”
 “And why’s that? Because I’m such a slut, Kurt?” Seb’s voice is softer, but it
has the dangerous edge that means his anger has gone passed the threshold of
yelling. “Can’t be having me around all that temptation, even though all
I’mtrying to do is have fun and take a break from Dalton? If I stare any more
at my college portfolio and the Warblers’ winter set, I’ll go fucking crazy.
You know, if you don’t trust me—maybe we shouldn’t be trying this after all.”
And something seizes in Kurt’s chest at that. It hurts so much he has to
physically sit down on his bed.
The silence stretches through their phones.

“Kurt?” Sebastian says, and something in his voice sounds so young and
uncertain now, “Do you really—if you—” 
“I do trust you, I do,” Kurt says, his voice small and soft now, all splayed
out and vulnerable in front of Sebastian. “I just… I’m nervous and afraid.
Because they’re there, and I’m here, and it’s so hard for me, and I don’t. I
love you so much, I’m so afraid of losing you, Seb.”
Kurt wipes at his eyes. He wishes Sebastian was here, so he could run his hands
up his neck, see the stubbornness in the green eyes of the bastard he loves
directly. Instead of having to remind himself constantly Seb was out there,
while feeling like his heart was chipping away each day because Sebastian
wasn’t here,with him.
 “I—I love you too,” Sebastian says, and even if it doesn’t flow out smoothly,
he says it all the same. “But you have to trust me like I trust you. Even
though you’re in New York with your new life and your new friends, and I’m
still in Nowheresville, Ohio. If I wanted an open relationship while you were
gone, I’d tell you. Like I told you I was going to go to Scandals. I don’t
hide.”
Kurt takes a deep breath as Sebastian pauses.
“Okay?” Sebastian asks, firmly. He’s looking for acceptance, not permission.
Kurt bites his lips, wipes his eyes, and wills himself to be. “All right,” Kurt
says.
***
“What would you do, if I were going to go to BU?” Sebastian asks, out of
nowhere one day while they’re in the middle of a Skype date.
Kurt looks up from where he’s been digging unglamorously into his stir-fry.
He’d missed dinner today, and honestly had been paying only the smallest amount
of attention to what Sebastian was saying. He’s been letting the familiar sound
of his voice sooth away his worry over his performance at this afternoon’s
practicum instead.
He blinks at Sebastian. “But I thought—“ he begins, his mind curiously blank.
“Wasn’t NYU at the top of your list?”
“Yeah, well, I applied to both, so we’ll hear in about a month, but BU’s honors
program is pretty sweet, and would set me up for law school well,” Seb shrugs,
but he’s looking to the side so he doesn’t have to meet Kurt’s eyes. “And we
don’t exactly need the money, but expensive is still expensive. The college
advisor says she’s pretty confident I’ll get that scholarship they have for
Midwesterners. And even though Boston isn’t exactly cheap, it’s still better
than New York.”
“I—you should go to the place that’s best for you. You know you’re a brilliant
student,” Kurt chokes out, finally, because at least this much he really means,
even though his heart is sinking on the inside. “But I’d have to stay in New
York.”
“Obviously, you love New York,” Seb pauses. “But, what about … this?” he waves
a hand into the distance between them, faux-careless.
“We’ll commute,” Kurt says, sharply. “All four years if we have to. A couple of
hours on the Greyhound are better than a flight to Ohio. I’ll just put on
gloves, it can’t be much worse than the metro.”
Sebastian laughs, and it sounds relieved, and Seb’s meeting Kurt’s eyes again.
“Please, if I were in Boston, I’d be taking that commute flight. Like I have
time to waste half a day when I could be fucking you instead.”
“Anyway,” Sebastian detours suddenly, and Kurt lets him, because he doesn’t
want to think too hard about another four years without Seb. “Back to the drama
that’s been happening with Wes and Thad. You’ve been following their Facebooks
right? Well, in the land of sunshine they’ve up and gone to college at,
apparently…”  
***
 “What the fuck’s wrong with the apartment I sent you photos of? I told you,
it’s a perfectly sweet two-bedroom in the Upper East Side, and my dad’s friend
is willing to cut us a good deal for the summer—” Seb says, the frustration
evident in his voice.
Kurt tears his eyes away from all the rental listings he’s been scouring to
retort back sharply, “And about two thousand dollars out of my price range.”
He was done with this conversation, like, 30 minutes ago. He just wants to take
another look at apartments before he has to work on the song whose high notes
he stillcan’t reach, but Sebastian won’t shut upabout this apartment Kurt’s put
his foot down on about not taking. 
“Look, Princess, I know I’m rich, you know I’m rich. My dad won’t mind paying,
so why are you making me live with you in what’s sure to be a shitty hovel?”
Kurt clicks the red x mark with more violence than his computer deserves, so he
can put all his attention into shouting at Sebastian.
“Right, so an apartment myfamily can actually afford is a hovelnow. Sorry we
can’t all live by your standards, sorry I’m not up to your standards either,”
he yells, and the girl next door bangs violently on his wall. Fuck her, he’s
not the one who practices violin at 1 am in the morning. “And here I thought
what would it matter, as long as we lived together! I guess I’ll take all the
money I was going to saving up to take you to all my favorite places in New
York, and spend it by myselfinstead!”
“That’s not what I meant—look, of course I want us to live together. But even
you’vebeen complaining about all the places you’ve been seeing in your budget
range. So why the fuck won’t you just let my dad take care of it? He’s so
fucking excited, you should hear him go on—Seb I’m so proudand Make sure to get
something nice for Kurtand Jeff remember to clear a weekend for a visit—”
“It’s preciselybecause your dad adores me that I can’t just go around spending
your family’s money!” Kurt shrieks. The girl bangs her wall again.
Maddeningly, Sebastian laughs in his ear. Kurt can hearthe smirk. “Babe, I
promise, my dad won’t care. Don’t be a drama queen. We know you’re poor, but no
onethinks you’re a gold digger, okay?”
And that smarts.Fuck Sebastian and his golden spoon, he might not know anything
about self-respect and independence, but he doesn’t get to just dismiss
Kurt’sreal concerns like that. He forgets sometimes, how thoughtlessly cruel
Sebastian Smythe can still be.
Instead of saying this out loud, which he knows he’ll regret, Kurt hangs up
without saying good-bye.
Kurt turns off his phone and practices until his voice grows hoarse and the
girl next-door stops her banging. Jose comes in, takes one look at his face,
and scuttles to bed with earplugs in.
He falls asleep fuming.
When he wakes up, there are several missed calls and half a dozen plaintive but
demanding “Call me” texts. Because he too, now recognizes he was a bit of a
drama queen—if Sebastian is still sometimes cruel, Kurtwill admit he sometimes
is still needy and bitchy— even if he still thinks he’s right—Kurt does in fact
call Sebastian.
“Kurt,” Sebastian begins immediately, after barely the 3rd ring. “I shouldn’t
have dismissed what you wanted like that, ok? Sorry.”
Even though it’s short and bratty as far as apologies go, Kurt knows Seb means
it, so he lets it go.
“I’m sorry for screaming and hanging up, instead of talking it out too,” Kurt
says in reply instead. “But it isimportant to me that I split the rent with
you. Being independent is important to me. I knowyou care a lot about that too,
in a different way—because money doesn’t mean much to you. And that’s fine. But
I was raised in different circumstances and it does to me, and I don’t want
either your dad ormydad to see you paying for my rent.”
Seb sighs, and Kurt knows he’s won at least a half-concession.
“Fine,” Seb says, sulkily. “But you have to let me pay two-thirds of it—”
Kurt’s about to cut in, but Seb continues on anyway, “It’s sensible,Kurt,
there’s no point in ignoring that my family isa lot wealthier, and we’d both be
more comfortable and argue less in something that’s not the size of a hobbit
house.”
“You’re such a nerd, Smythe,” Kurt shoots back, but he’s settled himself to
these facts as he walks out the door. They chat inanely about Sebastian’s
approaching graduation and whether Kurt’s booked tickets back to Ohio, until
Seb has to hang up.  
***
“The college letters came,” Sebastian says, and his voice is too steady, his
face is too smooth. Kurt’s been waiting for this Skype call all day, he was so
manic in class his instructor told him to tone downhis energy—and who tells a
musical theatre major to tone it down?
But he’s afraid, suddenly, even though Seb also doesn’t look particularly
upset.
“All right,” he asks. “And what were the results?”
“I’m not going to NYU,” Sebastian says, simply.
Kurt’s heart sinks. But he pushes his sadness aside as fast as he can, because
either Sebastian is disappointed and Kurt needs to be there for him, or
Sebastian decided to make a different decision and Kurt needs to be happy for
him.
It’s fine, Kurt reassures himself, and the voice grows more certain the more he
thinks about his contingency plans. We’ll have all summer, and then we’ll
commute, even if it’s U Michigan.
“Because,” Sebastian continues blithely on. “I’m going to Columbia.”
Kurt stares at Sebastian, who is starting to break out into the crooked grin
that means he’s so happy he can’t muster up either words or a smirk.
And then Kurt starts to cry.
Sebastian’s smile wipes off his face immediately, and he leans forward into the
webcam. “Wait—Kurt—babe—come on, Princess,” Seb says. “I didn’t mean to—I only
wanted to surprise you. And I didn’t want to disappoint you in case it didn’t
pan out. It’s the Ivy League.”
“You still should have told me!” Kurt yells, except he’s also trying to hide a
smile behind his hands, because he’s crying happy tears—and how stupid is
that?But he’s so relieved and so sohappy for Sebastian.
But Kurt does try to pull himself together quickly, because Seb sounded
worried. Kurt sniffs and wipes his eyes, looking into the camera with his
brightest smile.
Seb flashes a relieved smile back at him.
“Okay, drama queen. In other news,” Sebastian says, “NYU said yes too, and so
did BU, though no scholarship, the cheapskates—and obviously all the
safeties—but it’s pretty obvious it’s going to be Columbia. They’re even
offering me partial financial aid. Big endowments must be worth something after
all.”
All Kurt can say in reply is a far too honest, heartfelt, “I’m so glad you’re
going to be here with me.”
And at that, Seb just looks at him. Kurt wonders what it is he’s trying to
wrestle with. He lets the silence linger, for Seb to have the space to think it
through.
Finally, Seb offers, honesty for honesty, “I don’t think I could’ve chosen not
to be in New York.”
Kurt feels his eyes water again. He turns away, until he gets himself back
under control.
And when he turns back, he’s decided they ought to stop moping about feelings,
if only for Sebastian’s sake.
“Let’s get drunk and celebrate the letter,” he says, putting on a slightly
watery smile. “I’ll go grab my open bottle, and you can get the wine I know you
have stashed in your room.
He gets up from his chair and makes for the mini-fridge in the corner of his
room. Hopefully Jose hadn’t helped himself to it.
In the background, he hears Seb yelling, “Don’t get the wussy Moscato!”
**
It’s exhausting, sometimes, and lonely a lot of time, and their hard edges
haven’t worn away all together, even with each other.
But Kurt is, somehow, perversely glad of all these facts. It reminds him of how
far they’ve come, how much effort they put in, how much they still fit
together.
And whenever Kurt sees Sebastian’s face, the endorphins rush is as strong as it
was those first giddy months, and it’s all worth it.
Kurt thinks sometimes, that a psychoanalyst would have a field day with all
their favorite things to do in bed—bondage, bareback, marking. They’d probably
read insecurity and lack of trust and abandonment and childhood trauma into
them.
But Kurt thinks of it as them carving their names onto each other’s skins, a
little bit deeper each time, to mirror their hearts.
It probablyisa little unhealthy, but that's ok.
Chapter End Notes
     I was going to split this abnormally long chapter up, but I figured
     it was better as a chunk. Due to classes and big events happening
     next week, there will be no chapter next week—but I'll be back after
     Thanksgiving. So, hey, that means you get reading material to cozy up
     with while on break :D
     (please don't hate me)
     Burt continues to be the best dad, and this chapter is so fluffy I
     almost want to coo at them myself.
***** Beginning Again (August, 2013) *****
Chapter Summary
     "It’s hard, really, living together, being in each other’s space. The
     apartment was barely-passable, for all its New York charm, too
     cramped, with a tiny AC unit for the entire place and mold on the
     ceiling. The charm wore off after the first week, just like small
     annoyances crept into Kurt’s fantasy life of living in his first
     apartment with his boyfriend."
     Kurt is a single child, and Sebastian is also a single child, which
     is to say that their cohabitation needs work. But when they aren't
     sniping at each other over small things and being moody about the
     future, they are adorable, as evidenced by how they celebrate an
     important relationship milestone - imported food, perfect boyfriends,
     muggy New York in summer, and lots of dirty dirty sex.
Chapter Notes
See the end of the chapter for notes
Beginning Again (August, 2013)
“You’re back,” Kurt says beatifically, rising from his chair as Sebastian opens
their apartment door, his hair matted to his face still from his morning jog.
Sebastian stares at him as if he’s seen a ghost.
“What are you doing up?” he says suspiciously. “Are you mad at me for
something?”
“What—no—why would you think that?”
“Because you don’t wake up this early unless someone’s forcing you or I’m
giving you a blowjob, and it’s”—Sebastian’s eyes flicker over the clock on
their wall—“8 o’clock in the morning.”
“I do sometimes,” Kurt insists, forcing himself to continue to beam as
attractively as possible at Sebastian. He wonders if Sebastian notices Kurt is
wearing the slim white shirt Kurt thinks is waytoo boring but Sebastian loves
on him, with enough buttons open that he’s skirting Fabio-levels of collarbone.
“8 o’clock,” Sebastian repeats. “On a Sunday. When most of the time I can’t
even get you to brunch.”
The smile’s a lost cause. Kurt scowls. “I just did today, okay? Now, are you
going to be difficult, or are you going to change and go with me to that new
breakfast place in Soho?”
Sebastian rolls his eyes, but he kicks the door closed and wanders past Kurt
over to the bathroom, which means his boyfriend is cooperating for once in
Kurt’s very difficult life.
As he goes, Kurt notices that his jogger’s shorts are veryshort, and his worn-
out grey tank is sticking verytightly to his wonderful pecs. And then there’s
the smell of Seb’s sweat, which he’s stillgot a Pavlovian response to from high
school.
Kurt licks his lips, and then he’s backing Sebastian up against the bathroom
door and shoving his hands down Sebastian’s pants, because the reservation is
actually a bit closer to brunch-time - Kurt himself is a little amazed he got
up this early. They’ve got time.
“Oh fuck,Kurt,” Seb gasps, and then, to his credit, gets with the program very
quickly, unzipping Kurt's jeans and pulling out Kurt’s own cock and lining them
up for abortive little thrusts, as he groans into their open-mouth kisses.
Kurt pulls Sebastian closer by his ass and pushes back just as hard, letting
out a little mewl as he feels the sparks crawl up his spine, shockingly fast.
He was feeling too giddy to indulge in his usual morning—relaxation—on Sundays,
and so it isn’t taking very long at all. Sebastian, of course, picks up what
that mewl means, and Kurt can practically seehis smirk as he trails his lips
down to Kurt’s sensitive spot on his neck, right at his pulse point.
“Don’t you dare leave a mark,” Kurt grits out. “It’s too hot in August to be
wearing a scarf, I’ll look like a lunatic.”
“You could just notwear one, Kurt,” Sebastian says between gasps, as Kurt
speeds up their hands, clasped together over them both. “Might help convince
some people you’re not prepubescent and capable of getting laid.”
“You’re already the shameless one in this relationship,” Kurt huffs out, “And
for some reason, I’m not really hurt by insults about my looks when they’re
coming from the person I’m having sex with.”
Seb laughs, but obliges by sucking on his neck only very lightly. Truth be
told, it doesn’t feel half as great as when he’s doing it to bruise, but it’s
still plenty arousing. Before long, Kurt is throwing his head back and spilling
all over Seb’s hand and cock, while Sebastian encourages him with whispers of
“Kurt” and “so fucking sexy”and “babe”and all sorts of other indulgent nonsense
that is Sebastian’s sex talk.
He pulls his cock away before it gets too oversensitive, and Sebastian shifts
without missing a beat, tightening his grip and moving more furiously. His
glazed eyes lock tighter onto Kurt’s flushed face.
Kurt looks down, at where the rosy head peeks through Sebastian’s fist with
every thrust. He still feels feverish, wound-up, and he could replace Seb’s
hand with his own—it’ll probably take two, three more minutes, max—but somehow
it doesn’t feel like enough today, and so he slides onto his knees. Sebastian
gives a strangled groan. He licks the entire thing, relishing the precome and
hiscome all over it, and then puts his mouth right over the top and goes down
down down. Sebastian’s scent is so much stronger today, and he should be
disgusted, but the germophobic part of Kurt’s brain is too awash with lust to
yell at him. He can feel Sebastian's dick at the back of his throat,
Sebastian’s fingers—still tight around himself—pressing against his lips.
He swallows once, twice, and Sebastian clutches his hair and comes and comes,
and comes some more when Kurt pulls off and sucks at the head, so he can really
taste it.
When he finally pulls off, with a last swirl to clean everything up, they’re
both breathing hard. Sebastian’s hand thumbs his bottom lip, which he knows
must be red and swollen, as he says with a note of awe, “I can’t believeI ever
thought you could be anything but a total slut.”
Kurt laughs as he tucks both of them away, and then stands up to share a deep
kiss. Because Seb is also a total slut, he falls into it entirely, and it’s who
knows how much later that Kurt remembers about the reservation and pulls back
reluctantly to let the afterglow disperse.
That was an unexpectedly amazing diversion from Kurt’s game plan for today, but
that's no reason to let the rest of it go. They had to get going if they had
any chance of staying on top of the schedule.
“Go shower, you reek,” Kurt says, wrinkling his nose.
“You didn’t mind just now, are you sure you won’t be waking up this early
again?” Sebastian says cheekily, and Kurt blushes, because he hadn't minded at
all.
“I like two extra hours of sleep more than your cock, thanks, which I already
get plenty of. But go and I might be convinced to do this again some time,”
Kurt says, sternly.
Sebastian mutters “bossy bottom” under his breath, but he does go and get
ready. Kurt turns to the full-length mirror in their bedroom—which, to be
honest, isn't even a room, it's separated from their living room slash kitchen
only by a cheap Japanese folding screen—and despairs over his ruined hair and
rumpled shirt. Luckily, his skills had been polished after years of constantly
being on the verge of lateness, and by the time Sebastian was done showering
and dressing, the damage had been all but erased.
He turns around, expecting to cajole Sebastian into changing at least one
article of clothing on his body to mark the occasion, except Sebastian
is—perfect. He’s wearing a tight khaki green shirt, one of Kurt’s favorite on
him, jeans that hug his mile-long legs, and even ditched the boat shoes for
proper loafers.
Sebastian smirks and opens the door for him.
“Ladies first,” he says extravagantly. Kurt rolls his eyes but takes his hand
as they head out the door, to what he hopes is their perfectsummer day.
The brunch is delicious, and for once, Kurt sidesteps their constant fight over
who will grab the check and lets Sebastian take care of it, because he knows it
puts Sebastian in a good mood. He had thought the next part—shopping—was going
to be a little tough, even after Kurt made sure to put in stops at “amazing”
athletic wear stores (which is a total oxymoron). Except Sebastian doesn’t
complain at all, not even when Kurt spends too long at a vintage store that has
rows of high quality waistcoats that just needs a bit of tailoring. Then they
get to the overpriced gourmet food store, where Kurt informs Sebastian they
were going to have a picnic lunch. Sebastian makes no jokes about nauseating
romantic rituals, and instead picks out cheese (French) and wine (also French)
and bread (baquette, of course) and fruits (not French, but organic), with a
serious frown on his face. Sebastian pays for their lunch too, since his fake
ID is more convincing, but thenhe considerately offers to let Kurt pay for
dinner later.
By the time they make it to Central Park, and Sebastian refrains from making a
single snide remark about the people around them, Kurt thinks his boyfriend
must’ve been replaced by some romance-sex bot while he was sleeping last night.
“I didn’t melt your brain this morning, did I?” Kurt says, frowning at him from
where he’s sitting on the picnic basket he's been carrying around in his canvas
tote all day.
Sebastian scowls down at him immediately, and thank God, there’s that easy
irritation Kurt knows and loves.
“Your blowjobs have gotten better since that first time when you almost bit my
dick off, but they’re not thatgood,” Seb says, and Kurt pouts because he only
grazed him with his teeth a coupleof times, “Sorry for being in a good
mood.Here I thought you were enjoying yourself.”
Kurt rolls his eyes and pulls Sebastian by the hand down onto the blanket with
him. He goes, but in the sulkiest way possible.
“I amenjoying myself,” Kurt says, and backs it up with a quick peck, “But I’m
also missing the version of my asshole boyfriend who thinks he’s wittier than
Elizabeth Bennett even though his jokes are actually totally lame. This one’s
too perfect to laugh at.”
“Can you not remind me I’m dating someone who references Jane Austen?”
Sebastian complains, except Kurt can hearhis smile, and he barely has time to
retort, “Well, you gotthe reference,” before Sebastian is pushing Kurt down
onto the blanket for lazy kisses.
Kurt thinks the PDA should bother him, but the sun is warm on his back and he
picked a quiet-enough-for-New-York corner, so he lets Sebastian do as he
pleases.
He spends the afternoon laughing uncontrollably over snarky comments about the
other park goers, taking ridiculous selfies, and listening to happy childhood
memories he's surprised he hadn't heard. The wine he’s drinking openly—which
he’d be worried about except everyone else at the park was doing it too, it was
just one of those days—moves through his body and leaves him sweet and warm. By
the time he notices the sun was setting, they were on the verge of missing
their evening reservations and had to scramble to make it there in time.
It’s a shabby Chinese place where as much Mandarin is spoken as English,
crammed full of waiters and occupied tables. Even though a yearhas passed since
he discovered this place, Kurt grew up in Ohio, and so good Chinese food will
probably forever remain a bit of a revelation to him. Kurt peeks at Sebastian
over amazing soup dumplings, and smiles af the symbolism even though he's sure
Sebastian won't remember this is where they had their first meal together in
New York.
When it’s time for dessert, Sebastian signals immediately for the check, and
runs his feet up Kurt's legs with a hot gaze.
Kurt forgoes his dessert, but only because getting back into bed had been his
plan anyway.
They walk home too-close together, and the moment they’re inside the apartment,
doing that cliché thing where they’re slamming doors and scrambling for each
other’s clothes.
Kurt quickly gets sprawled all over the bed with Sebastian’s weight pressing
down on him. He hears the familiar snick of the lube bottle opening, and
automatically spreads his legs, already panting. Except then there's a soft
laugh of amusement, a low teasing “Eager, are we?”, and Sebastian is rising up
and reaching behind himselfand groaning softly.
Fuck,Kurt goes from hard to incredibly hard in a single beat. They do switch,
sometimes, and they actually don’t have anal sex that often anyway, given their
demanding internships and how long it takes and how sore it leaves both even
when they're incredibly careful. But still—Sebastian doesn't do this on a
regular basis. Kurt loves it the other way, he really does, but this way round,
it always feels a little different, a bit hesitant, a bit more exposed.
“Let me do it,” Kurt says, taking up the bottle from where Seb left it and
slicking up his own fingers. He knows Seb always goes a little too fast on his
own body. Sebastian smiles and obliges, leaning forward to give Kurt a better
angle. But Seb doesn’t linger there. The moment Kurt feels that he's longer
meeting resistance, Sebastian is lining himself up and moving down in one long
unyielding push. Kurt can feel, with his hands on Seb's ass and abs to steady
him, the long exhale as he settles.
Sebastian watches Kurt then, and suddenly the tawdry tease from earlier tonight
is nowhere to be found. Kurt feels himself responding in kind, the silence in
the room and the traffic noise of the city and the body heat of this gorgeous
boy he’s got in his hands burning low somewhere deep in him. They move
together, slowly, slowly, and their eventual orgasms leave them like a wave
pulling out to sea.
When they’re done, Sebastian collapses next to Kurt and gathers him close, and
for once, Kurt doesn’t mind the heat.
“Happy second year anniversary,” Sebastian whispers into his hair, and Kurt
clutches his sweat-slicked skin and laughs and laughs and laughs. Of course
Sebastian figured it out.
“When did you remember?” He asks, because he knows Sebastian doesn’t remember
things like the date when Hunter’s idiotic dare brought them together, and Kurt
would bet his favorite coat Seb hadn’t remember it by himself this time either.
“A couple of days ago, when Hunter asked me if I was planning to serenade you
this yearfor it.”
Kurt laughs again, because he remembers their first anniversary. His big move
to New York had been just around the corner, and consequently he was desperate
to pull every last scrap of affection he could get from Sebastian before he
left, in case it was his final chance. He dropped hint after hint about it,
even enlisting some of the Warblers to “casually” offer to help Seb work on a
grand statement, like, oh, say, an acapella serenade.
Except Sebastian hadn't taken any of the hints, and Kurt spent the entire day
looking over his shoulder and getting more and more mopey each time he didn’t
see anything. But that night, after they moved past passive-aggressively angry
sex and who-cares-Seb-shows-love-differently sex, Kurt had been basically over
the entire thing. Except then, Seb had pulled him closed, and sang the words to
“Say a Little Prayer” into the space between them. And Kurt had kissed him and
kissed him, because otherwise he would’ve cried.
Kurt hums the refrain a little bit now, and Sebastian quirks a smile.
“I kept waiting for you to say something about this weekend, and then Saturday
passed, and I thought you’d just forgotten. But then you were wearing my
favorite clothes on you at 8 o’clock in the morning, so,” he said.
“Well, thanks for playing along to me trying to sneak a celebration pass you, I
guess,” he said, rolling his eyes. “At least now I know what that freaky
perfect-boyfriend act was all about.”
It’s Sebastian’s turn to roll his eyes, though he’s still drawing circles onto
Kurt’s lower back and so there’s no bite to it. “You’re so fucking high
maintenance. I was literally doing everythingyou complain during fights I
shoulddo.”
Kurt huffs. “Well, yeah, and I mean it, but—not all the way. It was just creepy
as hell.”
“Aw, babe, are you saying you like me just as I am?” Sebastian coos, and Kurt
mock-pushes him away, and then pulls him tightly back.
“I’m going to miss this,” he admits to Sebastian, to himself.
He’s not sure if he means this apartment, or if he means the summer. Both,
probably.
It’s hard, really, living together, being in each other’s space. The apartment
was barely-passable, for all its New York charm, too cramped, with a tiny AC
unit for the entire place and mold on the ceiling. The charm wore off after the
first week, just like small annoyances crept into Kurt’s fantasy life of living
in his first apartment with his boyfriend.  
Though it was only a sublet, they had put effort into putting trinkets on
display, only what Kurt got Sebastian hated,and what Sebastian got Kurt found
boring. Kurt yelled at Sebastian every time he tripped over clothes strewn
carelessly on the floor. Sebastian couldn’t stand how clean Kurt kept the
kitchen and living room. Kurt’s job and Sebastian’s internship were equally
intensive, and so they spent less time together than they would’ve wanted
actually awake, let alone outside their tiny apartment. When they did go out,
Kurt found himself insecure around the whip-smart older interns and staffers
who’d clearly taken Seb under their wings, and Seb found himself loud and
exaggerated around the NYADA kids who stuck around in the summer and who talked
about a side of Kurt’s life Sebastian didn't know. If Rachel weren't in
California shooting her pilot right now, Kurt thinks Seb would've actually been
glad to hang out with her, just to be around someone who knew both their high
school selves.
Even sleeping in the same bed became a hassle over time—as it turns out when
sex isn’t involved, neither of them liked sleeping next to another person very
much. It was too hot and their sleeping schedules didn’t sync.
If pressed, Kurt would admit to being a slight bit relieved they were moving
out, before these petty fights escalated and someone ended up sleeping on the
futon couch.
And yet—he'll still miss this. It was still amazing, because he was with
Sebastian again. They've made so many incredible memories here, together and
apart, and Kurt will never be able to think of this summer without thinking of
this tiny hot apartment.
He hadn’t been consciously thinking about it, but maybe this perfect summer day
isn’t just for their two years together, maybe it’s also a goodbye to the
apartment and their immortal summer.
Next week, Sebastian will be out of this room and in his Columbia dorm for
orientation. Kurt will be back in NYADA housing early. They were going to have
to learn how to fit each other into brand new lives again.
Kurt wonders if Sebastian’s looming October birthday hovers at the dark edges
of his consciousness too, like it does in Kurt’s.
“Can we seriously not throw away that hideous paisley armchair when we leave
though?" Sebastian says, out of nowhere. "The sewing machine I can get the
movers to cart back to your dorm, but that armchair is ugly beyond words,” And
maybe it’s just a distraction, but Kurt laughs anyway, because how much
Sebastian hates paisley genuinely does amuse him.
“Do it and I’ll cut up your favorite polo shirt. And then I’ll tell Jose,
because he spent days reupholstering it for me and he’ll hate you,” Kurt says
breezily, the melancholy mood that overcame him rapidly dispelling.
He can feel Sebastian’s sigh underneath him. “All right, fine. Can’t have the
roommate hating me right off the bat.”
“Everyone will love you,” Kurt reassures him, and pushes up for another kiss.
Chapter End Notes
     I hope this was worth the wait! Have some fluff, have some porn, have
     some hints of the truckload of angst coming.
     I am SO sorry for the literal 3-month long silence. It's been a mess,
     but I finally got some creativity back, the space where writing is
     stress-relieving but not too stressful and work not so urgent I can't
     put it aside a bit to write. This chapter is literally right off the
     press, so I'll probably be coming back in a couple of days to clean
     up small typos etc.
     I can't promise more fic quickly because I'm closing in on my thesis,
     and while I have a lot of the end written up, unfortunately there's
     quite a lot of fic in between to write. But they will be coming, just
     unpredictably! But this fic WILL be finished. The best way to keep
     updated is probably to subscribe to the story.
     Serenade: "Say_a_Little_Prayer" by Lianne La Havas (and the exquisite
     original by Aretha Franklin, which is just a bit too fast for my use
     here)
     (Someday I'll write their first anniversary).
***** What it Means to Stay (October, 2013) *****
Chapter Summary
     "The last time he visited Sebastian, he’d stood in front of his
     closet and pushed past the perfect skirt to go with his blazer with a
     pinprick of discomfort. The moment he’d realized what he was doing,
     Kurt had immediately doubled-back for it and strutted around wearing
     it the entire afternoon he was at Columbia, but. He’d promised
     himself, back before he came to New York, that he was never going to
     be that insecure closeted boy again, and visiting Sebastian always
     felt like going back in a time machine."
What It Means to Stay (October, 2012)
Sebastian picks up the second time he calls.
“Hey, babe, sorry about that, just got back, ” he says, and Kurt’s heart sinks.
He’s starting to really hate hearing that that soft, weary tone in Sebastian’s
voice. “I was about to call you.”
“You’re not coming over tonight,” Kurt says, and it isn’t a question. Next to
him, Rachel makes a pitying noise and snuggles closer.    
“I can’t,” Sebastian says, and it doesn’t help that he sounds as upset as Kurt.
“We have to file an emergency amicus brief tomorrow, so I had to stay late to
write up a precedence memo. And I’ve got a response paper I haven’t even
started the readings for due tomorrow.”
“We’ve had these plans for a week, Sebastian,” he says, and he doesn’t mean to
sound so vicious, it just comes out that way. “You couldn’t have done it any
time in the past—”
“We only made these plans because youcanceled on me last week,” Sebastian bites
back. Kurt opens his mouth to retort that it wasn’t hisfault his show’s
director called an extra rehearsal last-minute, but Seb sighs, and he sounds so
tired all of a sudden that the words wither on Kurt’s tongue.
“I did mean to do it early,” Seb says. “But I accidentally fell asleep after I
came back from conditioning. Then I figured I could do it before our dinner,
but the memo came out of nowhere and took fucking forever.”
Kurt breathes, and tries to let his anger go. Kurt might wish Sebastian would
just choose among lacrosse, internship, pre-law society, and art program
volunteering; but he knows Sebastian isbusy, and that Sebastian’s trying his
best, just like he knows he’s being hypocritical. He remembers that freshman
rush to join anything and everything, when the world’s opportunities seemed
like they were at your feet. He imagines at Columbia, that would actually be
true.    
There’s a thump and a creak as Sebastian throws himself down on his bed.
“Look, come over Friday,” Sebastian says, and he’s pressing charm and
persuasion into his voice. “I know you’ve got rehearsal until late, but come
over afterwards. The tiny bunk bed sucks, but I can tell Paul to disappear. And
you can come with me to the party with the girl’s team. I’m supposed to show my
face, but if you’re not there I might break out into hives at the hetero-ness.”
“I can’t” tumbles out of Kurt’s mouth almost before he’s aware of it.
There’s a dead silence. He adds, quickly, “Sorry, I just—um, I think I’ll be
too tired. After.”
It sounds weak even to him.
When Sebastian speaks again, the exhaustion’s given way to full-blown anger.
“What the fuck is your problem, Kurt?” he asks. “You can get on a plane to
Ohio, but you can’t even bother taking the 1 over? Your single isn’t so nice
I’m going to keep ditching everything to come! You’re not the only one who has
a busy life.”
“That’s not—Iknowyou’re busy,” Kurt says, stunned, and—and guilty. He knows
most of the time, it isSebastian who comes, but. Kurt really is trying his best
too, he just really can’t—
He doesn’t have the words to describe to Sebastian the way it feels to walk
through the gleaming stone and polished wood of his campus. To talk to his
teammates and have them call Kurt “Sebastian’s girl” while smirking like they
think they’re being good little liberals. To hear Paul say in a faux put-upon
voice that he “went to Exeter” and it was “so basic,” as if that name was
supposed to mean something to Kurt.
The last time he visited Sebastian, he’d stood in front of his closet and
pushed past the perfect skirt to go with his blazer with a pinprick of
discomfort. The moment he’d realized what he was doing, Kurt had immediately
doubled-back for it and strutted around wearing it the entire afternoon he was
at Columbia, but. He’d promised himself, back before he came to New York, that
he was never going to be that insecure closeted boy again, and visiting
Sebastian always felt like going back in a time machine.
But Seb likes his roommate and he likes his teammates and he loveshis college,
and Kurt doesn’t want to make a mountain of nothing. It feels weird, not
sharing things with Sebastian, but it's only Kurt’s problem.
“Let’s just reschedule, okay? Some time this week, we’ll go somewhere between
our two campuses,” Kurt says instead, because pursuing this was going to get
them nowhere. In his head, Kurt’s reviewing his schedule, and wincing at the
lack of space, but he’ll make it work. He’ll shift things around.
“Fine, I’ll check my schedule and text you.” Seb says. He still sounds angry,
but evidently he’s also decided to let it drop. “I’m going to go. It’s late,
I'm going to have to start the readings if I want to catch enough sleep
tonight.”
Kurt turns to look at the bedside clock, which tells him it’s already past 8.
“Okay,” he says, trying to inject a smile into his voice. “Don’t forget to
eat.”
“Yes, mom,I picked up a slice on the way back.Good night.” He can hear
Sebastian’s eye-roll, but he can’t tell if it’s good-natured or annoyed. He
hates that he can’t tell.
Seb hangs up, and Kurt sighs, leaning close into Rachel’s warmth and feeling so
so alone.
This isn’t where he’d thought they’d be, a mere week away from Sebastian’s 18th
birthday.
Rachel shifts to put her hand around his shoulder and pull him even tighter to
her. “He’s missing out anyway, Kurt. You look hot tonight.”
Kurt laughs. He feels silly now, coming over to check out Rachel’s new
apartment and also not so secretly show off his date clothes. But he’d been
feeling happy, it’s been over a week and a half since he last saw Sebastian.
“Tell me you’ve got tequila,” he says, moving off the floor and going for her
cabinets.
And because Rachel has issues of her own right now—her thing with Jesse St.
James crashed and burnt like Kurt fucking warned her it would, her parents were
divorcing, her pilot failed spectacularly—she got out the tequila and two shot
glasses.
He knocks back a drink, which becomes two, and then three, and then he lost
count. Before he knows it, Rachel and he were sprawled on her double bed, her
studio pleasantly blurred around the edges.
“You should get roommates, you know,” he says, “This apartment’s too big and
expensive for someone who’s not actually a TV star.”
Rachel slaps his shoulder too hard, because she’s never been able to take a
joke at her expense. “No, it’s the apartment of a rising Broadway star.And my
parents owe me for the divorce trauma.”
Kurt smiles, and he tries not to make it too bitter. “Well, I’m glad you’re
still living that New York dream.”
She looks at him carefully, and then she slots herself against his side and
throws an arm around his waist.
“No, I’m not,” she says, so quietly. “You are. You’re the one with the lead in
NYADA’s big semester production, I’m going to class pretending not to hear
people whisper about how I’m not too good to come back.”
Kurt grips the hand on his waist tight. “You’re a thousand time better than
those clawing wannabes. They wish they could’ve gotten the opportunity you
did.”
Rachel squeezes his hand back, then lets go.
“I wasn’t kidding, Kurt,” she says. “Your life is everything you’ve told me
about, back in Lima, down to the Tom Ford coat.”
Kurt swallows, because he can feel a lump forming in the back of his throat. He
wants to say without Sebastian, none of that matters,but he knows that would be
hysterical, even for him.
“I just—I thought it would be easier with the both of us in New York. But it’s
like we’re even farther apart now. At least in Ohio, we had the distance as an
excuse, when we couldn’t see each other.”
He squeezes his eyes and breathes shallowly around a hiccup.
“Is this,” he asks, “Is this what it felt like?—with Finn?”
What he means is, is this is how beautiful, all-consuming relationships die?
Agonizing piece by agonizing piece? They’re drifting apart, he knows, they’re a
cliché. The hurt is there, like it is whenever he goes too long without seeing
Sebastian. But it’s familiar now, too, just like the silence of things unsaid.
He wonders if in time, the hurt will fade into the background, until one day he
won’t even notice it's there, until one day it really won’t be.
Kurt thinks back to the sepia days of getting stuck under each other's feet in
their cramped apartment, of seeing too much of Seb, and feels an overwhelming
amount of self-pity.
Rachel’s silent. She’s silent for a long long time.
“I always thought I would eventually get back together with Finn,” she says,
finally, and Kurt turns back at her in shock, because he didn’t know that.
“When all’s said and done, when I had a Tony or an Emmy or a Grammy and he
finally got tired of Lima. Except the last time I went back to Lima, I saw him
and his Found girlfriend, and they seemed so easytogether, like we've never
been. And I finally realized it wasn’t ever going to happen.”
She smiles, even though her eyes are glossy, and his Rachel is one of the
bravest people he knows.
“We’re going to live our dreams, Kurt, no matter what. We will,” she says
fiercely, and he hugs her tight, murmuring, “You’ve never been easy in your
life,” and they laugh and laugh.
===============================================================================
 
Kurt wakes up the next morning with a world-splitting headache and his cell
phone ringing like gongs inside his head. He stumbles out of Rachel’s embrace
and rummages around the floor until he triumphantly holds his phone in hand.
The moment his mind registers Meerkat, he’s pressing the answer button and
listening in. 
“Where the fuck are you, Princess? The guard keeps on giving me suspicious
looks,” Sebastian whines, the rush of New York traffic all around him. “Come
down and get me.”
Kurt blinks and looks at the clock, which tells him it’s 30 minutes until his
film history section.
“Oh my God!” he yelps, and begins to dance around the room collecting his
stuff. There was nothing for him to do but wear last night’s clothes, but at
least we wouldn’t be known as the boy who wore the same outfit twice,since he
changed before he got to Rachel’s. There was nothing to be done about the red
eyes and the smell of booze.
“I got up early for this! Hurry up!” Sebastian is still griping, and that makes
Kurt pause in his tracks.
“The office gave me a stupid delivery errand past your way this morning,” Seb
huffs. “So I stopped by that overpriced coffee shop you like and got you a
nonfat mocha and cheesecake.”
Kurt's heart gives a painful squeeze, and he says, "I can't."
“Fine, I’lleat the cheesecake instead, apologies for feeding you sweets for
breakfast,” Sebastian says, and this eye-roll is fond, Kurt can hear it.
“No, I mean—I really can’t.I’m not home. I slept over at Rachel’s yesterday,”
Kurt clarifies.
“Ah,” Sebastian says, and then nothing else. Finally, there’s a rush of air
against the speaker, and he says, “That’s fine. I’ve got to get to my lecture,
so I’ll leave the cheesecake with the guard. You can pick it up during
lunchtime if you’re back. Your coffee order is disgusting but I’ll drink it
this time.”
“Okay, I—thanks. I’ll see you this week? ” Kurt fumbles out.
Seb sighs again. There’s silence, and when Sebastian speaks, it’s deeply
reluctant.
“Honestly, I'm also here because I wanted to tell you this in-person so you
wouldn’t hate my guts,” he says, and Kurt’s stomach sinks. “I forgot the pre-
law society had an event next week, and they’re telling me it'll be busy at the
office too. So I’m not going to be able to see you until—after. My birthday.”
As if Sebastian had to clarify. There was no other After.
Kurt tries to breath around the renewed pain in his head.
“I suppose we can’t do anything about it,” he forces out cheerily. “I’ll see
you the day after then, like we planned? You’ll come over?”
“Yeah, of course,” Sebastian says, and is it Kurt’s imagination or does he
sound preoccupied already? Distant?
Stop,Kurt tells himself firmly. He reminds himself that he already knows—for
however much value there was in that—that Sebastian’s Name won’t be his. Seb’s
already even bought his sleek black ring. And still, Seb got up early this
morning, whether or not there was a real errand, and came down to Kurt’s dorm
to deliver him breakfast. And now he’s making post-birthday plans with Kurt.
Kurt hates this. He hates this.He hates the missed connections that keep
stacking up between them lately, sowing doubt and awkwardness, and how could
they possibly overcome Sebastian’s Name with their relationship like this? 
“I miss you,” Kurt says, because he needs Sebastian to know, and Fuck,it was
too early to cry. He thought he’d shed all the tears he had last night.
“I know,” Sebastian says, his voice going soft and gentle, “Now go before you
miss your film section.”
Kurt’s eyes snap back to the clock. He yelps, because now he has 20 minutes.
“Love you, bye!” he says, and shuts the phone on Seb’s laugh, and a cut-off
“Bye to you too, Sleeping Princess, love—”
***** Second Crossroads (Oct, 2013 / Feb, 2021) *****
Chapter Summary
     "Kurt looks at her face, at her lips pressed thin and her eyes tight
     around the corners, and wonders why she looks so upset when
     he—they—are still young and still here, dancing through New York."
     Sebastian's 18th birthday had to come some time.
Chapter Notes
See the end of the chapter for notes
Second Crossroads (October, 2013)
Sebastian’s birth time comes and goes.
Kurt stays up late, because Sebastian was a late-night baby. He'd sent an early
birthday message this morning, but Seb hadn't sent back a response, and Kurt
hadn’t expected him to.
It’s maddening. His phone keeps buzzing, but it’s all people checking in on
him. Rachel, Santana, Finn, Trent, his dad, David, Sebastian’sdad, Mercedes,
even fucking Hunter—
He checks every single message and picks up every call, on the slim chance that
one of them has an update from Sebastian. But none of them do, and as the night
wears on, he becomes increasingly upset and they become increasingly worried,
and finally he just puts his phone on silent. Who is he kidding, if Sebastian
hasn’t told him, then he won’t have told anyone yet.
He falls asleep still watching the phone, but knowing deep-down, with a weary
expectant sense of disappointment, that a call isn’t coming.
Maybe Kurt had heard that distracted quality in Sebastian’s voice right, after
all. Maybe his green eyes had snagged on someone else in the past couple of
weeks and Kurt just hadn't know. Maybe Sebastian was just ready to move on from
Kurt and the challenge of their relationship. Maybe it even felt a little bit
like a reprieve to Sebastian, watching someone else’s Name—a stranger, a
classmate, whomever—run across his finger.
Kurt doesn’t let himself wonder if it feels a little bit like a reprieve to him
too.
He wakes up the next morning with swollen eyes he nurses, and he goes out and
parties for the next two nights like it’s his first weekend in New York City,
and he finally stumbles out of some nightclub at 3 AM in the toned arms of a
cute boy in his contemporary dance class and falls straight into Rachel’s warm
hands. Kurt looks at her face, at her lips pressed thin and her eyes tight
around the corners, and wonders why she looks so upset when he—they—are still
young and still here, with the lights of New York all around them.
===============================================================================
Second Crossroads (February, 2021)
Blaine rushes on. “So, right. I thought we should meet to talk things over. I
hear you’d be in the Village? There’s a really nice coffee shop, on the corner
of 8th and Washington. Do you know that one?”
“Yeah, I know the one,” Kurt says again. Sebastian and Kurt went often, when
Seb dropped by to pick him up from rehearsal.
“So let’s meet there then. At three maybe?” 
There’s silence.
“Okay,” Kurt says, finally 
As he’s changing out of his sweats, on his way to meet Blaine, he sends
Sebastian a text and almost doesn’t feel bad about omitting Blaine's name.
Meeting someone. Might be home late. Don’t wait up.
Then, half a second later.
I love you.
He waits in the café, his coffee cup shaking in his hands. The cheesecake,
meant to settle his stomach, sits on the table, two bites taken out of it.
Chapter End Notes
     Whoo. So I was sitting bored on a flight and not wanting to do my
     work, and what do you know, turns out procrastination is an excellent
     way to creativity. Again this is hot off the press, so excuse any
     typos.
     This was hard. Because I was being mean, because I felt like I was
     covering a lot, and also because I just wasn't quite sure where to
     place the 18th birthday scene—at the end of the last chapter, to
     thematically tie it all together? Opposite the future scene, to echo
     the last reveal? I decided I would just not tease you guys too too
     much, and do it opposite the future scene but post the two chapters
     in one week instead! Let me know if you like the effect or if you
     have thoughts.
     Expect the next chapter by March 12th. By my reckoning, there are 5
     long chapters left, give or take, 3 of which are written and 2 of
     which are unwritten. So I'm almost there!
***** Faith (October 2013) *****
Chapter Summary
     " 'Usually his abandonment and trust issues are great for me, they're
     the bedrock of our continued friendship. But he's been no fun
     lately, and I'm here to tell you to man up and fucking fix it. It's
     not like you didn't know what you were buying,' Hunter finishes."
     Hunter is a surprisingly effective Cupid.
Chapter Notes
See the end of the chapter for notes
Faith (October, 2013)
Hunter steps directly into Kurt's path the moment he steps outside his dorm. 

He attempts to loom over him, his wool coat whipping menacingly around him in
the brisk fall breeze and a dark look on his face.
But he's only a scant inch taller than Kurt, and still has that terrible 60s
hair, and Kurt no longer feels like wasting headspace or time on any spoiled
rich brats.
Kurt laughs in his face. 
"Thank you for this dubious honor, Hunter. But get out of my way. Unlike people
who got into college on legacy admissions, I actually have to attend my
classes," Kurt sneeres, and neatly sidesteps him.
Maybe Hunter is here to yell at Kurt about Sebastian, or maybe he's just here
to gloat that he was right about their doomed romance, but Kurt doesn't want to
hear it. 
He makes it two steps before Hunter swerves right to block him again, even
throwing up an arm in front of Kurt's chest. 

"What is wrong with you?" Kurt snaps, at the same moment as Hunter shouts,
"What the fuck is wrong with you?"

Kurt raises his eyebrows at the audacity.

"I'm not here stalking someone who has avoided seeing me for the past 3 months,
even when—" he starts, and then cuts himself off.

"When Sebastian hung out with me at NYU, yes, yes," Hunter says, waving a
dismissive hand. "And it broke his tiny heart into tiny pieces to see his
boyfriend refuse to step near his best friend for him. Whatever, we all know
that you're a bitch. But I didn't know you were a vicious little bitch. "
He stares Kurt down. "Why the fuck haven't you called Sebastian?" 
Kurt's face contorts, and he looks away, because Hunter doesn't deserve to see
his face when he thinks of Sebastian
 "I'm not talking about this with you. Excuse me, " Kurt says shortly. He
pushes through the arm in front of him hard enough that Hunter actually
stumbles, more out of surprise than any real strength on Kurt's part, and
begins to walk away rapidly.   
"You're an ungrateful asshole, Hummel!" Hunter shouts after him. "If you were
going to be too selfish and bloodless to work for it, you could've told him
straight up, so Sebastian wouldn't have sat through all the fucking times your
manic girlfriend and cast of misfits were shitty to him, and then made excuses
for you when you wouldn't even come to his fucking dorm party because I was
going to be there!"
And that—Kurt thinks his mind literally whites out with rage for a moment,
because the next thing he knows, he's the one pushing into Clarington's
personal space.
"Don't overestimate yourself, Clarington," he hisses, "I might not like you
because, oh right, you're an idiot with a substance problem—" At that, Hunter's
face goes slack with shock, and then red with anger, or maybe humiliation, and
Kurt thinks he should feel bad about using that time Sebastian spoke to him
over Skype with sunken eyes and rehab pamphlets splayed out on his bed this
way.
Except Hunter is right. Kurt isa vicious little bitch, and so he continues
blithely on, "—But why I didn't attend that day had nothing to do with you. If
you can't sew up your ignorant mouth, I can do it for you. Who are you to tell
me I didn't work for it?When every single fucking day of the last two years,
every single time we fight and I look at my hand and choose to go back to
Sebastian—"
And horrifyingly, his tongue, always loose in anger, turns against himself, and
he's revealing terrible vulnerabilities, things he hadn't even said in front of
Rachel or his dad, no matter how many worried looks are gentle encouragementss
they gave him. He bites down on the words tumbling out and turns, before Hunter
sees the sheen in his eyes, and there's no way he's having a meltdown in front
of Hunter.
"So what changed?" Hunter says, shockingly matter-of-fact, without a trace of
anger at the dig Kurt just made. "Why aren't you working for it now then?" 
He moves in front of Kurt, staring at him defiantly, his stance military
straight.
"Why aren't you calling?" Hunter repeats. 
Kurt's never seen this tense and strangely implacable Hunter, and to face him
after throwing the most hurtful thing Kurt could think of at him, all Kurt's
anger slowly leeches out of him. They stand there staring at each other in the
cold wind.
Finally, Kurt replies, "He said he would call," his voice sounding stupid and
defeated even to him.
Hunter snorts.
"What the fuck is this, kindergarten?" Hunter says, and puts on his head voice,
"You said you'd do it! No, you said you'd do it!" 
Kurt flushes. Hunter must see, too, because he smirks like he's won something.
"If you aren't too emotionally constipated to realize," Hunter begins, "Your
boyfriend is also emotionally constipated, as well as deeply fucked up."
"I know that," Kurt snaps, because he's the one who's dating—dated—Sebastian. 
Hunter ignores him. "Usually his abandonment and trust issues are great for me,
they're the bedrock of our continued friendship. But he's been no fun
lately, and I'm here to tell you to man up and fucking fix it. It's not like
you didn't know what you were buying."
Kurt glares at Hunter, but his heart gives a little squeeze at that. Because
it's clear now that Hunter is here to tell him to kiss and make up with
Sebastian. Since there's no way that Sebastian sent Hunter of all people to
him, there's only one reason Hunter—who likes Kurt about as much as Kurt likes
him— would be here in front of Kurt: Sebastian was hurting, and hurting badly.
 "How is he?" Kurt forces out at last, because he can't not know.
 Sebastian's dad had only said, when Kurt called, that Seb refused to talk
about anything but classes, when he deigned to pick up at all. Kurt had gone so
far as to use Sebastian's credentials to log into Columbia's student directory
and search up Paul's phone number. He'd stopped short of actually calling, of
course, because he wasn'tgoing to let himself sink to the level of crazy ex-
girlfriend, but it had been tempting.
Hunter shrugs, "Last I saw him, which was a week ago, he'd planned such a tight
schedule he barely had time to eat. I had to sneak in between a working lunch
and extra hours at his office, and force my way into his dorm room late at
night." 
It doesn't even make Kurt feel better to know that Sebastian wasn't out there
lavishly kissing some dark eyed twink on Columbia's gleaming steps, his fingers
looped around the twink's belt buckle to pull him closer, as he sometimes
imagines in his darkest and most unhinged thoughts. 
Hunter paused, and tilted his head 45 degrees at Kurt. His voice isn't unkind
when he says, "He looks better than you though. I can see your concealer from
here." 
Kurt scowls, but lets that one slide, because he knows he did cake the
concealer on this morning, and because there was more important information to
extract from Hunter.
"Do you know who-what made him not call?" He asks clumsily.
Because this is the only part that doesn't make sense to Kurt.
He does know they weren't doing great, those last couple of weeks. But he also
knows Sebastian loves him, and both of them had known it wouldn't be Kurt's
name.
Who was so enchanting that he made Sebastian give into the voice that lived in
the back of Sebastian's head, that lived in the back of Kurt's head too, the
one that said life would be so much easier if they just let each other go?
Hunter shrugs again. "He wears a black ring. I could've doused him with
Veritaserum and Sebbie would never have told me anything." He pouted a little.
"And I tried, I fed that boy a liter of vodka."
Kurt nods, even if curiosity still gnawed at him, because it was only to be
expected. Names are deeply personal. Sometimes, when he thinks about that day
in Seb's Dalton bed, Sebastian's fingers creating a tiny amount of heat as they
move over the bare inked skin of his hand, Kurt shivers at the blanketing
intimacy
He was so gone for Sebastian, even back then.
"All right," he says finally. "Are we done here?"
"Yup," Hunter says cheerily, "Except that I have to remind you that this is the
second time I'm acting as Cupid, and I'm really hoping it's the last time. Next
time, either just fucking break up so we're spared the moping, or put rings on
it, all right?"
Then he walks away backwards, giving Kurt a jaunty wave as he goes. 
Kurt really can't stand his smarmy little face.
===============================================================================
Kurt thinks about Sebastian all through his first class, and his second class,
and doesn't even care about being called out by one of his instructors for it.
Lunch is spent staring blankly down at his phone, while the cursor blinks on an
empty text to Meerkat.It feels strangely familiar to all those months of high
school pining. 
Finally, he just thinks to himself, I am Kurt Elizabeth Hummel,and picks up the
phone.
Kurt dials Meerkat and waits as it rings and goes to voicemail.
The moment Sebastian's voice is finished telling him to leave a message, he's
snapping into his phone:
"You, Sebastian Smythe, are a coward and an asshole, and I hope your rare Lord
of the Rings copies burn in a fire and a mouse chews up your favorite polo and
your lacrosse team loses its first game." 
That makes several heads in the cafeteria turn but also makes Kurt feel better,
so he continues, not bothering to lower his voice.
"It's not like I didn't know that before, but I'm your boyfriend. You don't
treat your boyfriend that way. You don't promise to call and don't. You don't
make him stay up all night waiting, you don't make him cry over your Meerkat
face."
He takes a breath, because he's run out of air and because he's trying to
swallow the lump in the back of his throat. Regardless of what Hunter
said, Kurt has been "working for it." But he can't be the only one, if this
relationship is to survive. This relationship will only work if he isn't the
only one.
"Please," Kurt begs, and he's not even sure what he's asking for exactly.
"We're apparently so bad at this Hunter had to come talk to me. But we've made
it through two years anyway, haven't we? I just—I just need you to tell me
something, anything. I can wait, as long as you need, but you have to tell me
there's something I'm waiting for."
And here, his breath hitches in the back of his throat, as it always does,
saying these three words, and he closes his eyes, lowers his voice even more so
it's barely a whisper, like it was being said into the space between them in
bed.
"I love you. and I miss you. So. Please." 
It's perhaps pathetic, but it's only true, so he hangs up, and wills himself to
finish lunch. 
Kurt studiously doesn't let himself wonder what he would do if Sebastian
doesn't reply to this last ditch effort.
He'd have to try to let go, he supposes. But his mom died when he was little,
and he's an only child, he's never been very good at it. 
A girl he recognizes from class comes to him with him a minute after with a
pitying frown and a bowl of Ben and Jerries ice cream. She leaves it by his
elbow, compliments his singing, and pats his shoulder as she heads away. 
Kurt laughs through the embarrassment, and then he eats the ice cream,
because he fucking deserves.
When the sun is sinking and he's walking back to his building, the light dyeing
his skin red and orange, a series of texts pings his phone in rapid succession.
He opens his phone, feeling light-headed, like he's waiting for the first note
of a song. 
From: Meerkat
I'm sorry. 
I deserved that. I am an asshole. 
Hunter's a bigger asshole though. He shouldn't have gone to you.
But at least you got to yell at me, so I'll take that as you're ok. 
I'm surviving. 
Dad says I have to fix it before he disowns me for bad decisions.
You turned me into a fucking cliche, because I'm about to tell you it's not
you, it's me.
Our relationship's a mess. 
You deserve more than to wait, Princess.
I need time.
It's not a call, but Kurt breathes a sigh of relief anyway. It may be hard to
stay, but Sebastian is enough reason to.
Chapter End Notes
     GUYS I'M SO PROUD. Two updates in a row. My thesis advisor is less
     proud, because I definitely used it as a procrastination tool, but
     also the end was like. Right there.
     Now for actual notes:
     1. I extrapolate from the last scene he was in that Hunter has real
     drug issues, and in this universe he manages to mostly kick it off. I
     also think he's a terrible person but a good friend, and even though
     he's slimy he's vaguely endearing (because Sebastian likes him, and
     so I like him). Would anyone ever be interested in an outsider Hunter
     POV on Kurt / Sebastian?
     2. Sebastian is an endearing jerk, but don't follow his example.
     Always communicate.
***** In Movement (November, 2013) *****
Chapter Summary
     "Now that they’re alone, Kurt finds the awkwardness creeping between
     them again. It’d been so easy back in there with Sebastian, like it
     used to be. He sweeps his eyes up to the patio roof, where the fairy
     lights from two summers ago are still hanging. That magical summer
     night comes back to Kurt, like it does so often, the muffled laughter
     of the other boys, the lights and stars glimmering above their joined
     lips, the heat of Sebastian sinking into his bones."
     The boys finally talk, after the combined effort of very many people
     in their lives, because they are very stubborn. Unreliable narrators
     are revealed.
Chapter Notes
See the end of the chapter for notes
In Movement (Nov, 2013)
The weeks crawl at a snail’s pace. It’s an incredibly busy time, with
rehearsals and midterms at every corner. But every day, Kurt texts
Sebastian—things that he would’ve texted to Sebastian or mentioned during their
evening calls. How his classes were going, gossip Sebastian might’ve been
interested in, the latest happenings in trash TV land. Every other day or so,
Sebastian texts back something inoffensive, a bit snarky, mostly just so Kurt
knows he’s still reading, Kurt thinks. 
Elliot, whom he picked up on one of those terrible bar nights—but not like
that, Kurt means friend picked-up, where Elliot held his hand and made
sympathetic noises while he had a break down at the bar—, laughs at him every
time he sees him text.
“Still being led on a string, Kurt?” He would tease, but Kurt never replies,
because he can hear the real hint of disapproval underneath. Instead, he shoots
off the text quickly and goes back trying not to choke on Elliot’s cologne or
get glitter all over himself as they talk. He wonders all the time if the
befuddled way he feels interacting with Elliot is how straight people feel
interacting with him.
Elliot isn’t the only one who makes frowny faces at him about Seb, of course.
Jose still keeps offering to build things for his show, and Rachel recently
bought him self-help books without a trace of irony. The only people who seem
to really support him, who asks after Seb and whether they’ve talked yet, is
his dad and Seb’sdad. He’d thinks he’d better get the best son award from both
of them one day.
“Not yet,” he’d tell them, and means the yet. Kurt isn’t delusional. If
Sebastian wants to tell him noand is sure of that no,he’d say it directly to
Kurt, and there would be nothing for Kurt to do but accept it. Sebastian’s
never been one to pull punches. Until then. Until then—
But weeks slip by, and then it almost time to go back to Ohio for Thanksgiving,
and Kurt seriously starts thinking about calling Sebastian up just to yell at
him again.
Thankfully for Seb, days before Kurt is supposed to get on a plane back to
Lima, Kurt’s phone lights up with an incoming call from Meerkat, and Kurt’s
heart starts pounding. This is it, he thinks. He can feel it.
“Hey, Kurt,” Sebastian says, his voice almost drowned out by what sounds like
airport chatter. Seb sounds close enough to casual that if Kurt hadn’t known
him so well, he’d think Sebastian was really at ease. “Are you going back for
Thanksgiving?”
“Sebastian,” Kurt replies, trying to strike a similar tone. “Yeah, in a couple
of days. Are you?”
“I am,” Seb says. “So’s Maman.”
There is a long pause. Kurt blinks.
Seb’s mother lives in Paris.
Seb’s mother also loatheshis dad, and the feeling is mutual. Seb, for his part,
adores and avoids his mother in equal measures, always throwing himself into
Kurt’s arms when he comes back from his trips to France while loudly promising
he’d never return.
According to Seb, his mother was the quintessential French woman: beautiful,
charming, exacting, and unbearably flighty. Best in very small doses. Kurt has
no idea how Sebastian will survive the visit.      
“She’s… going to Thanksgiving dinner?” he clarifies, just to make sure he
understood right. “The Smythes’ Thanksgiving dinner? At your dad’s house? Which
the French don’t even celebrate?”
Seb coughs. “Yeah, and Maman’s even staying with us. She’s saying she wants to
personally hear her son’s ‘first-year adventures,’ like I don’t talk to her
every week. It’s going to be a fucking blood bath, even in my dad’s stupidly
enormous house.”
Kurt winces for Sebastian.
“I’m sorry, is there anything I can do?” he says.
“Come to Thanksgiving brunch,” Seb says, and then before Kurt can reply, he
speeds through what sounds like a speech he’s memorized. “Not Thanksgiving
dinner, no one deserves being subjected to the Smythe clan. But brunch, at my
house. It'll be just my dad and my mère.”
Kurt’s voice catches in his throat.
“Kurt?” Seb’s tinny voice says. ”My dad kept dropping heavy hints about
inviting you, so I thought I'd do it before he goes and does it himself and
makes it awkward for everyone. And Maman’s been lamenting that she still
doesn’t know what you look like, as if she hasn't stalked your Facebook photos
a couple dozen times. But obviously, don't come if you don’t want to, I’ll—”
“No, no,” Kurt says hurriedly. “I’d love to go. I’d love to meet your parents.”
“Oh. Ok. Great. Thanks,” Seb says. There’s another notable pause.
“I’ll text you all the details now,” Seb finishes. “See you soon.”
And then Sebastian hangs up, and Kurt’s last couple of days in New York is shot
to hell.
Kurt goes to his closet to reorganize everything, and then repacks his entire
suitcase because it’s a totally different clothing situation now. Apparently,
not only is Kurt still neither back together nor broken up with Sebastian, he’s
also meeting Sebastian’s parents.
When Kurt sees Sebastian, he’s either going to weep all over him or slap him.
===============================================================================
 
Sebastian’s house looms imposingly from the gates, as it always has, all red
bricks and quasi-Greek columns. Kurt drives slowly up the driveway, the gravel
crunching beneath the tires of his dad’s car. For a moment, he misses the
comfort and easy handling of his baby, something familiar to cling onto. But of
course his car couldn’t be kept when Kurt was leaving for New York. His dad’s
car is comforting enough in its own way, smelling of oil and home.
He parks next to the Smythes’ Audi, breathes deeply one last time, and climbs
out with a basket filled with homemade fruit scones and lemonade, both courtesy
of his dad.
Just as he ducks his head out of the car, the house door swings open, and a
beautiful middle-aged woman appears on the steps, throwing a perfectly Parisian
“Bonjour!”at him.
Kurt fumbles with his basket but luckily doesn’t lose a fruit scone.
“Hello,” he shouts back, trying not to redden because he isn’t prepared yet. He
makes his way up to her, and tries to smile naturally as he extends the gifts.
“My name is Kurt Hummel, it’s a pleasure to meet you. These are for you, Mrs—”
and then he almost bites his tongue, because of course Sebastian only calls his
mom Maman—or Mère, when he’s being unbearably snobby. Kurt actually has no idea
what she goes by, because presumably it’s not Mrs. Smythe—
“Marie, mon cher,” she says, in that beautiful accent again. Kurt knows she
technically lives in Reims, but according to Seb, she grew up in Paris and ran
with the artistic and cosmopolitan crowd before meeting his dad. Kurt can
believe that. Even approaching what must be her 50s, she's stunning, dark curls
tumbling down her slim shoulders and framing piercing green eyes, light’s crow
feet lending humor to her expression, her simple cashmere sweater and pants
accented with a Hermes scarf.
He never knew that Sebastian got his eyes from his mom.
“Don’t these smell delectable? Come in,” she says, taking the basket from him
and thankfully switching to English, because Kurt’s French is terrible even
after four years of high school instruction.
“Sébastien, Kurt is here!” Marie calls over her shoulder, and Kurt slides his
eyes behind her to see Sebastian, rounding the corner and walking towards them.
He looks—it’s been over a month since Kurt last saw him, and he looks—
“Sebastian,”Kurt says, appalled. “Are you wearing boat shoes during fall? And
how can you have a double-popped collar for Thanksgiving brunch?No, actually—I
take that back, you’re not supposed to wear a double-popped collar ever.”
“Hello to you too, Princess,” Sebastian says, raking his eyes down Kurt in
turn. “Nice to see your fashion sense is as sharp as ever.”
Sebastian’s tone is mocking, but there’s warmth there that makes Kurt flushes
down to his toes. Kurt straightens the sleeves of the Burberry coat Sebastian
bought him and the hem of the red sweater he knows plays up his pale
complexion.
“Let me take that for you,” Marie says, easing the coat from his shoulders.
Kurt catches a glimmer of her ring, which isn’t black, white, or gold, but set
with curling art deco designs in every color. She pushes him gently but not
subtly towards Sebastian. “Go on, Sébastien’s father is in the kitchen with the
caterer.”
“Caterer?” Kurt mouths, as he walks with Sebastian down a hallway that feels
too small to accommodate them. This close, Kurt doesn’t even have to try to
ignore his terrible fashion choices. All he can zero in on is the familiar
scent of Sebastian’s cologne, his ridiculous shoulder-to-waist ratio, his
bright green eyes—eyes that for once, aren’t ringed by dark circles.
“It’s for both brunch and dinner,” Sebastian explains. “Neither of them can
cook. I’d never put them in the kitchen together anyway, there are knives in
there,”
Kurt smiles reluctantly, glancing quickly at Seb and then looking away before
Seb can catch him at it. The Smythes were all so endearingly dysfunctional.
“Dad, Kurt’s here!” Sebastian yells as they enter, and his dad looks up quickly
from where he’s in conversation with what must be one of the catering staff,
while morepeople bustle around them with fancy knifes and glasses and amazing
smelling food.
“Kurt!” Sebastian’s dad says with a wide, honest grin. Kurt holds up a hand to
shake, but instead Seb's dad makes three big strides and envelopes him in a big
hug. Kurt, after a beat, returns back the hug just as tightly.
This is the man that helped them find their first apartment, who cleared his
schedule to come visit Sebastian and Kurt living in sin and persevered with the
stilted conversation, who checks up on Kurt even when Sebastian was absent, who
beamswith pride at Sebastian when Seb’s facing the other way.
Sebastian’s dad lets go and beams at him this time. “It’s great to see you,
Kurt. I’m glad my son hasn’t chased you away”—Dad,Sebastian hisses next to
him—“We’re using the breakfast nook in the sunroom, if you want to go in first.
We’ll be there in just a minute.”
Seb rolls his eyes and pulls Kurt away, just as Sebastian’s mom comes into the
kitchen with a sharp, “Mon Dieu!What are you telling them to do to the bread?
You Americans, you—”
The sound of rising voices float behind them as they hustle their way into the
sunroom, where Seb throws himself on a wicker chair, groaning dramatically. As
he runs an agitated hand through his already-tussled hair, Kurt catches the
dark lines of a black ring, and the fear in the bottom of his stomach loosens
just a bit, even though Kurt was mostly certain that would be the case.
“You see?” Sebastian whines. “If you weren’t here, they’d be at it all brunch
too.”
Kurt laughs, going to the set table and touching the silver utensils and
porcelain dish ware with a delicate hand.
“This isn’t too much, is it?” Sebastian asks, and Kurt turns back to see a
tightness around his eyes.
“No, it isn’t,” Kurt says, and he means it, all of it. He grins widely at
Sebastian.
Sebastian smiles back.
===============================================================================
 
Brunch is a pleasant, if at times awkward, affair. But it’s to be expected,
given it’s their first meal together, and there’s unavoidable tension between
Sebastian’s parents. They wisely stick to conversation topics revolving around
Kurt and Sebastian.
Marie peppers Sebastian and him with questions—how their breaks have been so
far, what their studies are like, who their friends are, where they like to go
in New York. Kurt tries to answer charmingly, and it isn’t hard, because
Marie’sso charming. But she also flits from topic to topic, and sometimes Kurt
isn’t sure if she’s listening to a word he’s saying, really. He can’t help but
dart a quick glance at Seb, who shrugs as if to say, See? Now you get it.
Marie is fascinated by the old rivalry between their old acapella groups—“How
romantic!”She exclaims, and Sebastian and Kurt both snort, because that’s
certainly one way to describe all their posturing back then. It’s not like
they’re exactly grown-up now, but Kurt can't help his inward wince when he
thinks of how dramatic and immature they were back then, the way every
competition felt like it was some eternal statement of artistry and not a high
school contest.
Kurt and Sebastian recount all their favorite memories, and argue with mock
outrage where they happen to diverge. When Kurt gives updates from his New
Direction reunion meal, including the impending arrival of Santana—freshly
dropped out of college—to New York this winter, Seb predictably rolls his eyes.
“Great, another of your bitchy friends to deal with in New York,” he snarks,
but Kurt just smiles beatifically and thinks with glee about Sebastian’s face
when he finally meets Elliot.  
They talk about the Warblers too, and even though Kurt knows the reason why, he
can’t help asking innocently why Sebastian was missing from last night's
reunion dinner. It's hard not to be spiteful—he had to deal by himself with the
boys well-meaningly dropping into the conversation that Seb's parents were in
town and how Kurt could and should meet them, and how they've heard from Hunter
that they're still working things out and good for them. By the end, he’d been
ready to stab someone.
At least Sebastian had the decency to look ashamed about that, mumbling
something about being busy and changing the conversation to Kurt’s upcoming
show.
That’s when Sebastian mom cuts in, with an inquisitive tilt to her head. “So is
the only career you are thinking of musical theatre? You do not have a back-up
plan?” she asks.
Seb grabs a scone with a pained expression, while Kurt answers, confused, “Umm…
yes, Marie. I’ve always known I wanted to be on the stage.”
“It is very unstable, you know,” Marie says, with a note of censure in her
voice.
Sebastian stares at her like she’s got two heads.
“Maman,” he begins, “You sang opera and now run a small winery in France that
barely turns a profit.”
She waves him away with a hand. “My family is rich, my situation is entirely
different"—Kurt wonders with horrified amusement if all French people are quite
this insensitive about class—"You are sure you are not concerned at all about
your prospects?”
“Marie,” Sebastian’s dad starts, only Kurt smiles back calmly to her and say,
polite but firm, “It’s what I love to do, and I intend to not just be
successful but famous at it.”
Then he grins, a little cheeky. “Plus, Sebastian wants to be a lawyer, so we’ll
be fine.”
There's a stunned silence. And then Sebastian’s dad breaks it with a large
laugh, and Marie looks at Sebastian with an amused eyebrow.
She gives Kurt a small nod, an impressed one, he thinks. Sebastian's face looks
torn between embarrassment and amusement, and Kurt feels like he’s passed some
sort of weird parental test.
“I wouldn’t bet on it,” Sebastian’s dad says, still chuckling. “I think my
son’s fallen in love with nonprofit law.” He attempts to make it sound like
he’s complaining, except he’s an attorney for the government and sounds far too
proud.
“I’m still exploring though,” Sebastian points out. “I want to try my hands at
other things too, it’s not like I’m continuing the ACLU internship.”
Kurt looks sharply at him, because Seb hadn’t mentioned anything like that.
“Why?” he asks. “But you love it!”
“I do,” Seb says. “But there’s plenty of time, and there's too much on my plate
anyway. I’m quitting varsity lacrosse too, so now I can really focus on pre-law
society and volunteering. I might dabble in club lacrosse though—or maybe try
out for an acapella group next semester. I’ve kind of missed singing.”
“But you lovelacrosse—” Kurt starts.
“Yeah, but it wasn’t worth the amount of work. I mean, it’s not where I want to
go with my life. And my teammates are all right, but there’s only so much wink
wink nudge nudge where’s your girlfriendI can take after years of brosin high
school.” Seb raises his eyebrows. “Why do you sound so upset about it, anyway?
You hated me doing all these things.”
“Yes, but—Wait—you knew about that?”
“No one’s capable of missing your pouty face, Kurt,” Seb says with an eye roll.
“Except whenever I asked you, you’d never say anything about it, so I could
never figure out exactly why. I thought it was maybe the lacrosse team calling
you my girllike it was the wittiest joke in the world, but you always gave as
good as you got, so I figured it couldn’t just be that.”
Kurt has no idea what to say on that, so he lets the conversation move
naturally to Marie’s question on what a “bro” is, and they spend nearly the
rest of meal explaining athletic culture to Sebastian’s mom.
The rest of brunch is quick and cheerful, and it’s really very nice—Kurt even
promises to get his dad to send the scones recipe to the Smythes’
housekeeper—but he sits distracted for the rest of the meal.
Sebastian knew.But Kurt doesn’t remember Sebastian asking him what was wrong,
even though Sebastian made it sound like he asked multiple times.
Kurt wonders if it was just because he was too stuck in his own head—like he
gets sometimes. He wonders what else has been going on then, before Sebastian’s
birthday, that he hadn’t quite understood either.
When they’re standing up and the caterers are cleaning the table, Sebastian’s
mom takes his face in her hands and gives him a gentle kiss on both cheeks.
“You're a rather adorable dreamer, aren't you? No wonder mon coueris besotted
with you,” she says, so softly Kurt thinks only he catches it. “Do be sure to
visit me with ’Bastien this summer.”
Kurt flushes, while she turns to Sebastian and suggests, apropos of nothing,
that they take a walk.
They both protest, of course, but before they know it, they’re outside the
sunroom and she’s closing the patio door behind them with a sweet wave.
“What the fuck,” Seb says, feelingly, shivering in the fall breeze. “She didn’t
even let me get my coat!”
Kurt laughs, because Seb’s mom is the worsematchmaker. Maybe they think Kurt
and Sebastian are going to hug for warmth. “It’s your fault for wearing boat
shoes in the fall,” he teases.
But his amusement dies out quickly, almost the moment he stops speaking. It
iscold, Kurt thinks, putting his hands in his pocket. And it’s too early for a
hug between them, he knows.
Now that they’re alone, Kurt finds the awkwardness creeping between them again.
It’d been so easy back in there with Sebastian, like it used to be.
He sweeps his eyes up to the patio roof, where the fairy lights from two
summers ago are still hanging. That magical summer night comes back to Kurt,
like it does so often, the muffled laughter of the other boys, the lights and
stars glimmering above their joined lips, the heat of Sebastian sinking into
his bones.
Seb stares at him, looking as wistful and miserable as Kurt feels right now,
and then he steps swiftly forward and hugs Kurt tight. His hands clench on
Kurt’s shoulder and waist, and Kurt hadn’t known how desperate he was for this
hug until Sebastian’s warmth pressed all around him, but he claws back just at
tightly, burrowing into the safe space between Sebastian’s neck and shoulder.
“What are we doing, Sebastian?” Kurt says, his eyes stinging, muffled into
Sebastian’s collarbone.
Seb laughs, wetly. “I thought we were trying to get back together. What did you
think we were doing?”
Kurt starts crying, he can’t help it, because it’s been so hard this past
month, keeping faith.
He pushes Sebastian away from him harshly with both hands, because he’s pissed
off still and the bastard deserves it. But then he reels him back in just as
quickly, his fingers not even letting go of Sebastian’s soft cotton polo,
because he can’t bear for Sebastian to be more than an inch away from him right
now.
“Of course I know, idiot,” Kurt says. “But you owe me a fucking apology first,
you asshole.”
“I’m sorry,” Seb says, pressing each word into Kurt’s lips. “I’m sorry, I’m
sorry.”
Kurt grasps his hair tightly then, and falls into the deep kiss he’s wanted
since even before Sebastian’s birthday, maybe even before the summer ended,
when they were really truly happy. Sebastian’s hands tighten on him.
When they break apart, they’re both breathing hard, their faces wet. Kurt hopes
Sebastian’s parents and the caterers have left the sunroom by now, before they
started getting a soap opera through the room’s windows.
“What happened,Sebastian?” Kurt asks, “You didn’t even sayanything—you just—you
just leftme there, wondering—”
“I just—,” Seb says, and he looks so anguished, and Kurt still doesn’t know
why, not really. “You were so unhappy,Kurt, and it felt like there was nothing
I could to fix it. I don’t even know now if you’re really sure—”
“Don’t you dare!” Kurt says, sharply. “Of course I’m sure. And I wasn’t—”
“You were,” Sebastian glares at Kurt, fierce. “Don’t insult me by pretending,
it’s been two years, I can readyou, Kurt. You were so unhappy all the time, and
you weren’t tellingme anything when I asked how things were, and it didn’t seem
like you were tryingto make it work. You wouldn’t meet my friends, you wouldn’t
come to anything. It was like—it was like you wanted out—” Sebastian chokes up
there, and Kurt kisses him again, just to make him stop breaking Kurt’s heart.
“It wasn’t because of you,” Kurt says, when they pull back. He tries to impress
as much conviction as possible onto Sebastian, because Sebastian was one of the
best things in Kurt’s life, whether during his high points or during his weak
points. “It was—everything else—your teammates were making me uncomfortable,
Columbiamade me uncomfortable. I hated finding out that I hadn't left all my
insecurity behind when I moved to New York. And it felt like I was intruding on
your new Ivy League life, and I was so afraid that it was all just pretend,
that we'd been left in Ohio when you moved over here and you just hadn't
realized it yet.”
Seb looks upset at that, and Kurt says quickly, remembering Carole’s words,
remembering Rachel and Finn, Tina and Mike, Puck and Quinn, all the other
couples that didn’t make it. “Not on purpose, it just. It happens,sometimes.”
Sebastian looks, if anything, even more upset. “Why didn’t you tell
meanything?”he asks.
And the sheer obliviousness of that question makes Kurt give a wet and
humorless laugh. “Are you actuallytrying to lecture me about communication?”
“Kurt,” Sebastian says, urgently, lifting his head up with a quick hand. Kurt
stares up at him, eyes full of tears, silent for a second.
“I was afraid it would sound like I was being petty about your success,” he
admits, “and that I’d make the things I was worried about come true, by saying
them.”
“You idiot,”Sebastian whispers, slow and angry. He inhales a sharp breath, and
presses their foreheads together. “If you had asked,I would’ve told you I was
getting more and more annoyed and stressed about everything. I would’ve told
you that being from Nowheresville, Ohio sucked when they all went to fucking
prep school in Manhattan. Fuck, I would’ve told you that I hated playing nice
and making friends, when I’ve had the Warblers at my back for three years, and
how much of a difference you made, being there, getting all my jokes—”
Kurt’s tears start rolling again.
“So it wasn’t because of—because of—” Kurt whispers, his eyes sliding over to
Sebastian’s right hand, which was tightly gripping his neck. Even now, he can’t
quite voice his one greatest fear. The black ring sits on Sebastian’s finger,
taunting him.
Sebastian hesitates. His hand moves away from Kurt’s neck, and clenches into a
fist by his side. He stares intently at his hand.
“Sebastian?” Kurt prompts, softly. He covers Sebastian’s hand with his own,
their black rings overlapping each other.
Seb looks up at him, a bitter smile on his lips. “Yes and no,” he says. “It
doesn’t matter, Kurt.”
“Are you sure—is it—do you know him?” Kurt settles on at last.
Sebastian hesitates again, and Kurt thinks that’s answer enough. But then
Sebastian shakes his head hard, and tangles their fingers together, so the
rings are out of sight.
“Don’t ask me to see, Kurt,” he says. And all Kurt can do is pull him in again
and kiss him hard.
Kurt doesn't want to see, not really. Sebastian chose him.Sebastian is his.
Whoever it happens to be—some boy from Paris, at Columbia, in the Warblers,
among his teammates and rivals—Kurt’d fight them all for this.
Chapter End Notes
     Enjoy the long chapter today! I was going to break this one up, but
     then I think I've teased ya'll enough. Silly boys. Thankfully they've
     got very well-meaning but dysfunctional parents.
     In other news, I finally finished writing this fic. I am very very
     proud, because it's my first long fic. Come back for the next couple
     of weeks every Saturday for consistent updates :)
***** Future Promises (Nov, 2013 / Feb 2021) *****
Chapter Summary
     "New York beckons with the future."
     Two different boys make two different promises to Kurt at two
     different times.
Chapter Notes
See the end of the chapter for notes
Future Promises (Nov, 2013)
I’ll come over for dinner tomorrow,” Sebastian says, standing outside his car
door. “Just let me know if your dad says it’s all right. And don’t forget the
Warblers want to get together again over the weekend, before we all have to
leave.”
Kurt shuts the door and rolls the window down, smiling brightly up at him.
Sebastian’s eyes are shot red still, but Kurt thinks he’s rarely seen Sebastian
more beautiful.
“I will," he says, reaching through the window for a last kiss.
Kurt wonders if Sebastian’s parents are at the window, cooing at them and
feeling weird about being in sync about this, but he doesn’t let that stop him.
It’s hard to feel embarrassed, when he's glad that they're the world's most
unsubtle meddlers.
When Sebastian and Kurt had come in from the cold so Kurt could say goodbye,
with both their faces chapped red by the wind, Sebastian’s parents were sitting
together and watching TV peacefully, and Sebastian had muttered, “That’s
fucking weird, it’s like the Twilight Zone,” at Kurt.
It makes Kurt feel blessed, really, to have this, among all the other gay boys
in the world—supportive parents, and each other.
Sebastian gives him another hard, intoxicating kiss. When they break apart,
he’s staring at Kurt.
“You’ll tell me, won’t you?” he says, soft and serious. “If you were unhappy?
Too unhappy to continue?”
“I will,” Kurt says, and means it. But he also knows, deep in his bones, that a
time like that won't ever come for him. New York beckons with the future, and
he can’t wait to take it on now, with Sebastian firmly by his side. “And next
time when you go on a crazy trip about breaking up, you have to ask too.”
Sebastian huffs. “Yeah, I will,” he says, and gives Kurt one more kiss for the
road.
===============================================================================
 
Future Promises (February, 2021)
“Thanks for meeting me, Kurt,” Blaine says, earnestly, and Kurt thinks with
some despair that he really is as adorable looking as he remembers from several
nights ago.
Kurt shrugs, as Blaine looks down as his black coffee, biting his lips.
He hears rather than sees Blaine inhale deeply, and then he’s raising his head
to meet Kurt’s eyes straight-on, so brave.
“I know—” he says, wetting his lips. “I know you’re dating someone, but I would
never have forgiven myself if I didn’t at least try.”
Blaine drops his coffee spoon against his cup with an off-tune clang.
He says, all in a rush, “I’m really attracted to you, Kurt. I’m single, and
it’s been a year since I’ve really dated, and I haven’t had anyone serious in a
long time, if ever, and— I can’t remember ever feeling this way before. That
night, on stage, my eyes kept being pulled again and again to the corner of the
room where you sat. You shined all the way to the stage, and I kept being
caught by your smile and your laugh. It was like I’d been hypnotized. We can be
friends first, if you would rather, if you need the time. But”—his eyes slide
to his white ring, and then back to—“Don’t you want to see where this goes?"
Blaine keeps looking at Kurt, his eyes wide and pleading for understanding.
He’s got great eyes, Kurt notes, fringed with dark curled lashes like he
belongs in a mascara commercial, brown and soft, the definition of puppy dog.
Kurt does remember.
He remembers thinking Blaine was very attractive, remembers noting he had a
natural charisma on stage, a more demanding presence than you’d expect from
someone who was clearly a bit on the short side.
Chapter End Notes
     I've decided on 2 updates this week, because 1) this chapter SUPER
     short anyway and 2) I HANDED IN MY SENIOR THESIS YESTERDAY. 90 pages
     YA'LL. I AM PROUD AS A PICKLE.
***** Sealed with a Memory (May, 2019) *****
Chapter Notes
See the end of the chapter for notes
Sealed with a Memory (May, 2019)
“Good morning,” Kurt says, bleary-eyed, as he patters over to give Sebastian a
good morning kiss. He drapes himself over his back, his hands burrowing under
Sebastian’s shirt to smooth over his abs where he’s warm and toned under Kurt’s
fingertips. He snuggles into Sebastian’s neck, kisses the vein there
lingeringly.
“Glad to see you’ve come back from the dead to join us, Princess,” Seb says,
continuing to flip his pancake and not even telegraphing a hint of distraction
despite Kurt’s wandering hands. He tilts his head towards the clock. “It’s
juststill early enough that we can call this brunch and not lunch. I left some
oranges by the juicer, go make two glasses of orange juice and put out the
utensils?”
The romance was really and truly dead, Kurt thinks, despairingly. 
But he’s been well-trained, so he does go and start the machine.
Then again, Kurt thinks, looking back with unbearable fondness—he’d die if
anyone ever captured the expression he’s sure he’s making on camera—, there’s a
gorgeous man in his beautiful apartment making him Sunday brunch. It’s every
romantic dream Kurt had when he was young come true.
Even if the man still can’t quite cook, Kurt thinks, laughing inwardly as he
watches Sebastian wince and dump a charred and soggy pancake into the trash.  
“Need help?” Kurt asks, cheerfully.
“No,” Sebastian says. “I’m a fucking law student. I can make pancakes.” He
spits that last word out so vehemently Kurt can’t help but actually laugh out
loud this time.
Sebastian glares at him.
“See if I take you any where today,” he says spitefully.
“Of course you will. I haven’t been free for a weekend in ages.And you’re
clearly planning something nice. There’s pancake and orange juice, you’ve done
your hair and wearing things I don’thate, and you’ve been working nonstop the
past several nights to clear your calendar,” Kurt replies, laughing again as he
turns back to fill two glasses and carry them to the table, where Sebastian’s
taken out the nice plates.
His entire body is still hurting a bit from rehearsals earlier this week, but
it’s the good kind of sore, the ache that comes from working hard. It’ll be a
couple of months yet before the show starts its run, but Kurt’s learnt to trust
his instincts, and they’re drumming with excitement. He’s done a couple of bit
parts, some bigger roles off-off-Broadway, but this show—this show feels like
it could be one that moves him to the next level.
Everyone involved is bit a rehearsal-crazy, though, so he’s glad to be getting
this Sunday off. He gets the feeling these lazy Sundays will only get harder to
secure in the near future, what with his future practice schedule and
Sebastian’s looming finals.
Sebastian comes over and slams the pancakes down unnecessarily hard, along with
scones from the French-style bakery next door to them and some fruit.
“I’ve been told I look hot in my normal clothes, you know,” Sebastian says.
“You shouldn’t listen to everything boys at the club tell you,” Kurt teases,
but when Sebastian seems like he’s about to tip from adorably ruffled to truly
annoyed, Kurt leans over the table and gives him a quick peck. “But luckily for
you, even though your clothes are terribly boring, you are hot, so they're not
too bad on you.”
“And yourclothes try too hard. You’re lucky you’ve got a great ass,” Sebastian
volleys back, but with an eye roll that turns into a smile when Kurt flutters
his eyelashes and mock-adjusts his vest.
Kurt splits the stack of pancakes between the two of them quickly, giving
himself several extra and digging in. Really, they came out quite well, Kurt
thinks, picking one up and examining one with the critical eye of someone who
actually knows how to cook. Although Kurt was ravenous so he wouldn’t have been
picky anyway. Last night he came home, washed his face, and crashed so fast he
skipped dinner entirely.
“But really, what’s the plan today?” Kurt asks, between large and very
unattractive bites.
Sebastian smiles and shrugs, cutting into his own pancakes.
Kurt idly goes through some possibilities, but lets him play at being
mysterious. Sebastian doesn’t do surprises, really, but when he does, they’re
small but thoughtful. It’s probably something like a surprise visit from
friends, or tickets he’s had his eye on, or maybe even that leather jacket the
other day—Kurt’s willing to wait.
Breakfast passes in comfortable chatter, with Sebastian playing through some of
the arguments he’ll be using next week in class on Kurt. The legal details
mostly pass Kurt by, but he can tell well enough where Seb’s language and
argument need more clarity to give feedback. But there’s a distracted air about
Sebastian, and Kurt wonders if there’s still something about the case Seb still
hasn’t quite worked out bothering him.
When they’re done eating, Sebastian reaches across from him slowly—very
slowly—weirdly slow—to clear up the plates, putting his hand right in his view.
Kurt’s eyes register it before Kurt’s brain does—that there’s something a bit
odd with his hand. It—it’s glimmering silver—
Kurt stares at Sebastian, his glass of juice falling out of his hand with a
soft thump.
Sebastian smiles, and how did Kurt miss that edge of anxious energy, with so
much intent to please behind it—
Sebastian pushes the plates and utensils and whatever else on the table aside,
and takes hold of Kurt’s hand. Kurt doesn’t—can’t— take his eyes off
Sebastian’s ring finger, not until Sebastian gives his hand a gentle tug, and
he snaps them up to Sebastian’s face.
He looks so wretchedly shy and hopeful, and Kurt’s not sure he’s ever seen
quite that look on Seb’s face ever, in all the years they’ve been together.
With his other hand, Sebastian reaches beneath the table and pulls out a small
velvet box, which he snaps open and slides right next to their joined hands.
“This one is yours. If you want it?” he says.
What else can Kurt do but pick it up with shaking hands. The velvet box looks a
bit worse for wear, the colors gone a bit faded, and it doesn’t make sense
until Kurt pulls out the ring and—Oh.
He traces the Sebastian Smythecarved on the inside of the silver Found band,
the elegant curling patterns he remembers choosing for the outside, when he was
17 and almost painfully in love, the details blurring as his eyes fill with
tears. 
“How—?” Kurt asks.
“You realize that when you get rings personalized, you can’t actually just
abandon them?” Sebastian says, easily, calmly, like it was nothing, to have
kept these rings through everything, for ten years,unwavering. “The jewelry
store called me the next day, so I went and picked them up. And I couldn't just
throw them away.”
Kurt’s happy, he really truly is, as happy as the day he heard his dad had made
it through surgery okay, as the day Sebastian wanted to get back together, as
the day he heard back from his show's casting director. He clutches his ring
tightly and throws himself onto Sebastian’s lap, arms already coming up to grip
Sebastian desperately.
Sebastian’s hands smooth down his back, automatic, steadying, soothing.
“I got it adjusted to your size recently, if you want to wear it,” Sebastian
whispers, wiping away his tears and pressing a sweet kiss to his cheek.
“Of courseI want to wear it, the ring is mine,” Kurt says, as he turns around
again so his back was pressed to Sebastian’s front. He pulls off his black ring
and slides Sebastian’s beautiful ring on quickly, under the table and out of
sight. When he splays his right hand out again, the spring light fractures
against it into a dazzling array of colors.
“And don’t make a Gollum joke,” he adds, and Sebastian presses a grin to his
neck.
“I wasn’t,” Seb lies.
“And… are you… proposing too?” Kurt asks, turning his head just slightly to
look at Seb’s eyes. He thinksthat’s Sebastian’s intention, and it doesn’t
really matter, not really, but Kurt would like to—but only if Sebastian wants
too as well.
Sebastian laughs. “Don’t pretend like you haven’t been conveniently leaving
wedding magazines around for me, Kurt,” he teases.
“Well, it worked, didn’t it? So—are you? Proposing?”
“To be honest, I mostly just wanted you to have the silver ring, and to wear
mine. You know weddings don’t mean much to me,” Seb says, shrugging, and Kurt
nods, because that part, they’ve talked about. “But it’d be nice to do that and
wear the gold ring too, in a year or two, maybe, if you don’t mind a long
engagement.”
“Sounds perfect,” Kurt says. He can picture it in his mind already. Maybe at
Marie’s vineyard, in the summer, if most of their family don’t mind traveling
to France. Or here in New York City, there are some former churches whose
interior he loves.
Sebastian links their right hands. Their silver rings look beautiful together,
Kurt thinks.
“You don’t mind, right?” Sebastian asks, after a pause. “I didn’t think you
would, but maybe I should’ve done something a bit—bigger?” He lets go of Kurt’s
hand to give a vague sweep, and Kurt assumes this encompasses the wedding, the
proposal, the whole morning maybe.
There were other ways to do this, Kurt’s dreamed about those possibilities
before. Maybe a giant party, with everyone they care about and even some faces
they just know in passing, a series of romantic serenades from all their
singing friends, a speech on love, Sebastian getting down on his knees and
opening the ring box for Kurt in front of everyone.
But it’s been a long time since Kurt’s thought about those childhood fantasies
of his. That’s never been their style, and what Sebastian gives him has always
far outstripped anything he’s ever imagined for himself.
Kurt cups his face gently, thumbing where premature crow’s feet are just
starting to appear.
“Perfect,” he repeats, and presses a soft kiss of thanks to Sebastian’s lips,
which quirk into a smile.   
“Well then, maybe after I graduate and this show of yours wraps next year. Or
even a little bit after, if you land another great role right afterwards and
can’t spare the time for wedding planning,” Sebastian continues. Then he
laughs, “But before you get too famous. Otherwise, you might ditch me for some
stage twink.”
Kurt soaks in Sebastian’s warmth and feels like he might burst with affection.
“You’re the lawyer,Sebastian,” he says, teasing back. “I’m the struggling
musical theater actor, I don’t think it’s me they’ll be stealing.”
“In nonprofit law?” Sebastian says, his eyebrows rising.
“Even better,” Kurt says. “My lawyer with soul.”
Sebastian smiles, and Kurt wishes he had a photographic memory, so he can
remember that radiantly happy face of Sebastian’s for the rest of his life. But
it’s okay, he has this man forever, he has time to keep putting that look on
Sebastian’s face, Kurt thinks, feeling giddy and swept up all of a sudden.
“Hey, hey, fiancé,” Kurt says, and he turns fully to swing his arms and legs
around Sebastian like an octopus. “Take me to bed.”
“That was my plan for the rest of the day anyway,” Sebastian says, but he rises
and grips Kurt with both hands on his ass, carrying him towards the bedroom,
and Kurt flushes all the way to his toes, because the strength? Super hot. He’s
never complaining about how long Seb spends weightlifting in a useless attempt
to gain more bulk again.
“Remind me to call your parents and mine in about an hour, after a round or
two,” Seb says, as he throws Kurt down onto their sinfully big bed and frames
him in with his limbs. “I made the mistake of telling them I was proposing, and
they’ve been nagging mefor days about when I was going to do it., even though
it was totally not myfault that you have a schedule from hell.”
“Mhm-hmmm,” Kurt says, distracted by the miles of skin he’s uncovering as he
slips open Sebastian’s shirt buttons. He leans in to run his tongue over a pert
nipple.
Sebastian moans, pushing closer. “Also there’s a celebration with your friend
tonight,” he says, his voice getting breathless, and then they don’t talk much
at all.
They come late to the engagement party. Elliot waggles his eyebrows at him
while Rachel sobs hysterically in his arms. Otherwise, people are polite enough
to not say anything about the way they look like they’ve just rolled out of bed
at 8pm. Which they did.
Chapter End Notes
     SO CLOSE! I doubt you wonder where this is going, but I do have a
     couple of tricks up my sleeve still!
***** Prior Commitments (Feb, 2021) *****
Chapter Summary
     "Blaine’s shaking his head, but Kurt’s remembering Sebastian’s words
     suddenly, echoing from years and years ago. He channels him in that
     moment, the maddening arrogance and shock-fire assurance that’s never
     quite gone away, even after all these years and all the ways they’ve
     changed."
     Kurt makes his final decision.
Chapter Notes
See the end of the chapter for notes
Prior Commitments (Feb, 2021)
“No,” Kurt says, waits to feel the decision reverberate through him.
Except it doesn’t. He feels strangely calm, like the decision was made long ago
and he was only putting the last nail in the coffin. He supposes, in a way,
that is exactly what happened.
Most of Kurt’s memory of that night, really, was of wanting to be in a more
secluded corner, one where he could take advantage of a slightly drunk
Sebastian. He remembers vividly flushing and biting down laughter, as Sebastian
whispered into his neck rude conjectures about the other patrons, his alcohol-
scented breath hot against his neck.
That night, next to Sebastian, he couldn’t have stopped the curl of his lips
for anything.
Blaine stares at him, his eyes wide. His hands have completely stilled around
his coffee cup. The silence lingers, turns awkward.
Finally, Blaine speaks, his voice shaken. He looks like someone has just
slapped him across the face and the sting hasn’t quite hit yet. “I—Why? Just
like that? Are you sure?”
Kurt nods, no hesitation.
“I love him. I’m happy with him.”
He smiles.
“He’s not – I know he’s not particularly heroic or kind or open-hearted, but—I
love that about him. I fell in love with him when he was a lot less pleasant.
And now… now, he iskind and open and whatever else a lot, and trying really
hard the rest of the time.”
Kurt laughs as he swirls the spoon in his coffee around. As he talks about
Sebastian, he can hear his voice get stronger, surer. “And he's seen me change
the exact same way, feel the same things I feel about him. I’m never going to
betray that.”
Blaine’s eyes light up, as if there’s suddenly something for him to grab onto.
He reaches out for Kurt with his right hand, his white band glinting in the
light.
“I know you might feel obligated, but you don’t have to stay with him—Brody
said that you guys have been together for a long time, but that’s no reason
to—“
Kurt pulls his hand out of Blaine’s grip so quickly Blaine’s hand hangs there
for two, three seconds before it drops awkwardly. Kurt would feel bad, except
he can feel his pale skin flushing with the anger sweeping over him.
“I’m not obligated,” he bites out.
Blaine presses his lips thin and goes silent.
Kurt breathes. He tries to push away the indignation, because Blaine isn’t the
first and won’t be the last to look at his relationship and not see any of the
things that make it so precious to Kurt.
He collects himself as best he can, and says, looking straight at Blaine, so
that Blaine knows he means every word he’s saying. “I can’t imagine loving
someone more than I love Sebastian, a relationship that’s better than what I
have with him. And more importantly, I don’t want to.”
They sit in stony silence some more.
Finally, Blaine asks, “Are you sure you’re never going to regret this? What if
it doesn’t work out?”
Kurt looks up from his cake and narrows his eyes at Blaine, but Blaine only
looks back defiantly. Some part of Kurt appreciates that Blaine doesn’t back
down easily.
At least there, he and Sebastian share a trait. Apparently fate recognized he
liked stubborn men, because it was one Sebastian’s most infuriating and most
endearing traits.
Sebastian has always been stubborn, and it’s never been about conviction or
ideology for him. It was only that he was too proud to do otherwise. Even when
everything went wrong, he stood with his shoulders straight and kept on going.
Except with Kurt, sometimes. Then—like when he ended having to drop the class
of a homophobic professor, or when one of the kids at the art nonprofit he
volunteers at came to activities with suspicious bruises, or when his dad was
hospitalized for months after a car accident… Then, he admitted defeat. He’d
let his shoulder slump, and Kurt would come over and hug him tight without
prompting, because while Sebastian would never say what he needed, Kurt would
always give it to him if he could.
Kurt loves that about Sebastian even more, beyond all reason.
Blaine doesn’t have that quality, or any of the other ones that make Sebastian
who he is.
My own special snowflake, Kurt thinks, and smiles.
“It might not. But I’m not going to regret it,” Kurt says. It would be like
regretting having known and loved his mom, just to avoid the pain of her death.
Blaine slumps down a little in his chair, his voice is confused and
exasperated, “It’s guaranteed, with your Soulmate.”
Kurt shakes his head.
“No, it’s not. Not all of them are in love, not all of them stay in love.
Sometimes they cheat, or separate, or settle down into something that isn’t
really romantic love anymore. Not to mention the ones whose Names or
mismatched, or whose Names change.”
“Even if those stories are true, they’re rare. Movies and TV shows might not be
able to exist without conflicts like those, but most people have much more
uncomplicated love lives. Most Soulmates are still madly in love,” Blaine
insists.
Kurt shrugs. He doesn’t think Blaine will understand, but he finds he wants to
explain anyway.
“When I first started seeing Sebastian, my dad hated him. He thought that I was
going to have my heart broken, and he thought Sebastian wasn’t good enough for
me,” he began. “So… I assumed that when he found out it wasn’t Sebastian’s name
on my hand, he’d tell me it was all for the best, that the pain would fade with
time and I’d forget all about Sebastian when I met my ‘Soulmate’.”
In his head, Kurt can still see his dad sitting at their kitchen table,
listening to Kurt talk between sobs, his expression grim.
“Instead, he told me that he thinks a lot of the success of Found pairs really
comes down to people being willing to work hard at their relationship, because
they think that this person is itfor them. And he said that if we thought the
same, felt the same, and tried our best, then there was no reason my
relationship wouldn’t have as good a chance as any Found pair’s.”
Blaine’s shaking his head, but Kurt’s remembering Sebastian’s words suddenly,
echoing from years and years ago. He channels him in that moment, the maddening
arrogance and shock-fire assurance that’s never quite gone away, even after all
these years and all the ways they’ve changed.
“Not to mention—I like challenges,” he says, looking straight at Blaine and
letting a little of Sebastian’s signature smirk shine through.
Kurt doesn’t wait for Blaine to reply. He doesn’t need him to. He puts down a
couple of bills on the table, wishes Blaine the best, and leaves.
He goes home to Sebastian.
===============================================================================
 
The first thing he notices when he steps into their apartment is the stench of
vodka. The next is the sound of retching coming from the bathroom.
He flings his jacket and scarf somewhere over the sofa, and runs to the
bathroom.
Sebastian is flushing the toilet from a kneeling position on the floor. At the
sound of Kurt’s entrance, he pulls back to rests his head on the door of the
cabinet beneath the sink, staring up at Kurt with glazed green eyes.
“Wha’re you doing back here?” He slurs. His eyes flutter closed, as if it’s too
much effort to even look at Kurt.
Kurt’s heart doesn’t give a painful twinge at that.
“To sleep? Because I live here? And make sure you don’t drown in your own
vomit, apparently,” Kurt says sharply.
But when he touches Sebastian, his hands are gentle.
Kurt peels off the suit from Sebastian’s sweaty body (and God, he’s still in
his lawyer clothes, how long has he been drunk?) and maneuvers him into the
shower, where he scrubs at Sebastian ineffectually but gets him to rinse out
his mouth, at least. By the time Kurt is done, he’s soaking wet too, so he
strips down to his briefs and drops the rest of his clothes onto the floor
along with Sebastian’s alcohol-sodden ones.
He somehow manages to manhandle Sebastian naked and wet into the bedroom, where
he dries off his body and hair with a towel and puts him into some boxer
briefs, while Sebastian does his best impersonation of a grumpy drunk cat.
Really, whenever Kurt imagined this sort of scenario before, it tended to be a
lot sexier.
Then they’re falling down onto the bed together, and Kurt works at the
comforter until it’s cocooning them both.
Sebastian still smells like vodka, which would usually at the very least make
Kurt wrinkle his nose.
But tonight, Kurt slides closer to his heat. He wraps his hands tight around
Sebastian’s waist and buries his face into Sebastian’s neck, where the smell of
vodka gives way to the smell of his fiancé, so familiar and so very very dear.
Kurt falls asleep listening to Sebastian’s pulse against his cheek.
===============================================================================
 
Kurt wakes at nearly the same moment Sebastian does. He can see Sebastian’s
red-shot eyes opening and then squeezing close, as he turns his head into the
pillow—before he suddenly whips his head around and up, that is.
Sebastian is staring at Kurt with utter confusion on his face, and Kurt would
find it funny if it weren’t so heartbreaking.
Kurt forces a grin, and teases, “Good morning, sunshine. Expecting someone else
in your bed? How’s the hangover treating you?”
Sebastian continues to blink at him. Kurt stares back, determinedly continuing
to smile.
“Why are you here?” Seb blurts out.
Kurt raises an eyebrow, and then pretends to look around.
“Oh look, I’m at the residence of one Mr. Sebastian Smythe and his boyfriend
Mr. Kurt Hummel. This is myapartment too, where else would I be?”
“With Anderson! I gave you permission!” He sounds incredibly indignant about
Kurt not taking him up on his tacit offer.
Kurt stops smiling. “Did you really think I’d ever do that to you?”
Seb scoffs. He tries to move a little farther away, but his feet end up tangled
in the blankets and so he just flails a bit, lilting to the side instead.
Finally, Sebastian throws up his hands in the air and yells, “ Wonderful.
Great. So you wanted to be a good person and break up in person first before
you fucked him. Even better. What are you waiting for?”
And he calls Kurt the drama queen.
For a split second, Kurt is angry. How dare Sebastian thing Kurt would betray
their decade-long relationship—just like that?
But then he sees the way Sebastian isn’t meeting his eyes, the hurt twisting up
his body. The anger leeches out of him, and comes out as a sigh.
“What were you think, getting so drunk? Do you even know how much trouble it
was taking care of you?” he says, instead.
“I thought you weren’t going to come home!”
“So what? You thought you should get drunk and pass out on the floor of the
bathroom instead? What if I hadn’t come home to find you?” Kurt can hear his
voice rise as the image coalesces—Sebastian sprawled across their bathroom
tiles, unmoving, while Kurt stands there, helpless, too late.
“That—“ He stops. “That wasn’t exactly part of the plan. I might’ve gotten a
little carried away.”
It’s Kurt’s turn to scoff. “Plan. You had a plan?”
“I did.” He says. He’s looking at Kurt now, no longer avoiding his eyes, and
Kurt can see he’s angry – or trying to appear to be anyway. “I just needed a
little alcohol before I could pack everything up and wait for you to come back.
I wanted our break-up to be on my terms. I wanted to make a strong impression,
one you’d never forget.”
“Right. Because your smelly self was really sexy last night. Clearly that
panned out very well.”
“Yes, all right, so I was pathetic, is that what you wanted to hear?” Sebastian
snaps. His voice is cutting, like Kurt hasn’t heard in years. “What are you
waiting for anyway? Since I’m already pathetic enough right now, you might as
well get over with it. Go on. Break up with me.”
He straightens up on the bed and glares at Kurt, defiant and brave.
Kurt stares at him like the idiot that he is.
“I’m not going to,” he says flatly. "And I thought we've already had this
discussion about not deciding by yourself that we need to break up?"
“Right then, I—What?” His outrage twists into confusion, and Sebastian stares
at Kurt, his eyes bloodshot. He opens his mouth, closes it, wrinkles his
forehead, opens and closes his mouth again.
A visibly surprised Sebastian is a rare enough sight that Kurt quirks a smile.
“I only met with Blaine to tell him he was misinformed,” he says. “Because I’ve
already been Found.”
Sebastian is opening his mouth again, so Kurt for both their sake cuts him off.
He raises his hand, flashes his silver ring.
“I even have proof, see?” he says, conjuring up a smirk.
Then Kurt rolls his eyes. “Though what exactly it says about me that my Name is
some idiot lawyer who spins stupid fantasies, drinks himself to death, and then
makes me clean up for him, I'm not—“
He’s cut off when Seb’s hands reach out. Slowly, oh so slowly, Seb caresses his
neck, his face.
Kurt closes his eyes, doesn’t comment on the way he can feel Seb’s fingers
shake against his skin.
Suddenly, the grip on the back of his head and shoulder tighten, and he tumbles
into Seb’s body. They collide violently, and Kurt’s hands wrap around Seb
automatically—whether to steady himself or Seb, he’s not sure. Seb’s face
buries into his neck, and Kurt wraps his arms tighter around him.
He doesn’t comment on the wetness he can feel against his cheek. They stay like
that, quiet, for a long time, breathing together.
When Sebastian finally pulls back, his face is red, but other than that, he
looks like he always does after a night of getting drunk. Messy hair, puffy
face.
Kurt smiles at him like an idiot and knows he was a thousand times right
yesterday.
Then Sebastian bends down for a kiss. And no. Sonot going to happen.
“Ugh, no!” Kurt says, throwing up a pillow between them. “That’s disgusting.”
Sebastian makes an offended noise.
Kurt rolls his eyes. “You and your dick probably wouldn’t be able to deliver
right now anyway.”
“I’ll show you—“ Sebastian growls, but Kurt is already sliding off the bed.
He raises his eyebrows teasingly.
“Come on. I’m going to prepare breakfast, and you’re going to go shower,
because you stink of puke.”
Then Kurt’s leaning down over Sebastian, whispering in his ear, “And thenwe can
have breakfast, and then some celebratory non-break-up make-up sex. If I
remember correctly, it’s pretty spectacular."
Kurt hears Sebastian’s laughter echoing behind him as he's walking into the
kitchen.
Chapter End Notes
     Congrats on making it guys! (this is a bit early because I'm busy
     tomorrow)
     For all intents and purposes, this is where the story ends, with the
     point of this soulmate AU triple-underscored. I don't think it came
     as surprise to any of you, but I hope it's cathartic anyway.
     The only thing left is the epilogue, which is very self-indulgent and
     not totally necessary, but might address some lingering questions.
     I'm still making final edits to get the emotions right, I'll try my
     best to not make you wait until next week and post it shortly.
***** Epilogue *****
Chapter Notes
See the end of the chapter for notes
                                   Epilogue
It’s just the two of them in their honeymoon suite now.
Their loved ones have all been either shipped home or sent to the hotel bar
downstairs. Inside their suite, three or candles glow on every available
horizontal surface that isn’t the bed. And even though Kurt explicitly told the
hotel staff “no romance”, to spare him Sebastian’s inevitable caustic remarks,
he doesn’t really feel like complaining, because Sebastian’s skin is gleaming
golden in the candlelight.
Their matching white tuxedos were already put away side-by-side in the suite
closet—and Kurt stands by their outfit decisions, even if Sebastian wearing
white was not so much ironic as it was ridiculous, and Rachel took the
opportunity to regal the wedding guests with the times she’d walked in on them.
It was tradition, and it complemented their complexions.
Kurt is stripped down to just his briefs and a thin white undershirt, while
Sebastian now wears nothing but low-riding Columbia sweatpants.
Kurt wants to suck on his hollowed hipbones, and then down to the shadows lower
still.
But not yet.
He looks down at the two black ring boxes lying innocently between them,
waiting, and then back up at Sebastian. His stomach is twisting oddly, all of a
sudden, the lazy lust evaporating as he sees the same uncertainty infect
Sebastian.
He knows it’s time to exchange the rings, in full view of each other. They’d
done everything the traditional way—given the ring boxes in front of the
guests, keeping the ring exchange itself for when they are alone. The moment
when one’s partner slides off one’s silver ring and replace it with the gold,
engraved with their own name, is too sacred to be shared.
Of course, they are non-traditional where it matters most. Their rings won’t be
matching.
Kurt thinks about Sebastian baring the skin of Kurt’s ring finger, skin that
has been covered since he was eighteen, skin he himself hasn’t seen since then
and meant only to be seen by him and his Name, and his hand trembles.
He knew this would happen today, of course, and yet he hasn’t let himself think
through to this very moment, the details of how Sebastian might react. Fuck, he
doesn’t know how he will react when he’s seeing someone else’s name
onhisSebastian, whom he just declared in front of everyone they cared for as
the love of his life.
Before he’s even consciously aware of the thought, he’s reached out his right
hand for Sebastian’s, and Sebastian doesn’t hesitate in grasping back. They’re
clutching at each other, their hands bloodless, and leaning in. Their lips meet
desperately in the middle.
When they part, they’re both breathing hard.
Sebastian casts a glance over at the rings again, looks at Kurt, and flits his
eyes back to the rings.
His eyes grow determined, the glint that made Kurt fall in love with him in the
first place surfacing.
“I’m first,” he says, firmly. He throws the ring box marked S at Kurt, who
fumbles to catch it. And despite the serious moment, Seb rolls his eyes.
“Thank God you never wanted to play a sport,” he says.
Then within pausing even a beat, he—against every tradition known to man,
because Sebastian is still fucking Sebastian, even on his wedding day—pulls off
his own silver ring in one smooth motion and splays it out for Kurt to read in
the candlelight.
There, in faded black letters. Kurt E. Hummel.
Kurt can’t breathe.
“Let's get this over with. Put the ring on me so we can just get this fucking
over with and get to the newlywed sex,” he hears Sebastian say. He almost
manages to hide the waver in his voice.
Kurt shakes his head inanely—his mind still snagged on the reality from 5
seconds away and its contradictions with the image he’s now with—Kurt is
Sebastian’sSoulmate? Recently, the Name changing?—but it was a million in one
possibility. Or always?—but how was that possible?
The only certain thing was that Sebastian knew,before he pulled off his ring.
The certainty and brashness of his actions couldn’t have been anything else.
Kurt looks up at Sebastian, the joy and anger and floating questions spilling
all over his face, and Sebastian seems to read it accurately, because he
answers with a too-steady voice, without Kurt even asking a word, “It didn’t
change. It’s always been your name.”
For once, Kurt has nothing to say in response to that.
That doesn’t—that probably makes the leastsense of all. Why would Sebastian
have broken up with him after Seb turned of age then? Why would Sebastian have
hidden it from him all these years, when he knew very well that some nights
Kurt stayed up and cried in fear, thinking about Sebastian one day leaving him
in the dust for his Name. Sebastian could have sparedhim all that, he thinks,
flushing with anger.
But then he remembers Sebastian looking down ruefully at his black ring, the
implicit I do know himresponse.Sebastian obsessively asking whether or not he
was happy, after they got back together in college, after every fight, after
every anniversary, for years. Sebastian who used to stare at Kurt as if
confused at his presence next to him, who was always so certain it would be
Kurt who would walk out the door. Sebastian pushing him towards Blaine, even.
Kurt’s trying to take this information and incorporate it into the narrative of
his and Sebastian’s relationship, and he doesn’t like the picture the jigsaw
pieces are making. Arranged this way, every one of Kurt’s happy years were
built on Sebastian’s hidden pain. It makes Kurt angry, and hurt, and
overwhelmed with tenderness for him.
“You should have told me,” he settles on instead, in the end. He finds, to his
surprise, that tears are already rolling down his cheek. Kurt swipes them away
with one hand, and takes Sebastian’s hand gently in his with the others.
“I guess there’s no chance you’ll let me off the hook and get this show on the
road, since it’s our wedding night?” Seb asks, weakly.
Kurt shakes his head.
“I have to know this story,” Kurt says, and then he somehow summons a light
touch to his voice. “And don’t think just because I’m happy that my husband’s
name is mine right now that I won’t be angry later, when I think properly about
how many years you’ve hidden this from me.”
Sebastian still hesitates, so Kurt squeezes his hand.
“But we’re still fine,” he says, just to point out the obvious. “It’s a bit
late now, of course, to change your mind. The time would’ve been before we
walked down the aisle.”
Sebastian gives a pity laugh at his humor. He sighs, and Kurt can feel the
exhalation blow softly across his cheek.
“I knew you were going to find out today,” Sebastian begins. “I meant to tell
you earlier than this. Weeks ago. I just couldn’t—it shouldn’t matter, really.
It doesn’t.”
Sebastian rubs his face with one hand, the one that isn’t gripping Kurt tightly
right now. He’s not looking at Kurt when he says, “It’s just that… it did
matter, a lot, years ago, and I didn’t want to unpack it all with you just
before the wedding."
Kurt looks at him, and says, cautiously, prompting. “You kept dating me, after
your eighteenth birthday. Even though you had doubts. I could see it even then,
I just never asked any questions because I was too afraid you’d change your
mind about continuing, and I was sure I was right.”
Sebastian laughs. He slides fond eyes back over to Kurt.
“Ever the optimist. I was sureit wouldn’t work, actually. I just—decided to do
it anyway. It was a stupid decision, but I thought. I didn’t want to say
goodbye early. My 18th birthday was going to come eventually, and I’d know then
the person who I could depend on to stay. When it was going so well that I got
scared I was in too deep, I’d remind myself that, and it made it okay to keep
dating you. You would inevitably leave, but I’d have someone else. Eventually.
And I thought that I’d be willing to let you go then.”
He falls silent.
“But it was your name,” he says. His voice would be hard to hear but for the
fact that it’s only the two of them in this room. “And when I saw—I hated you
so much in that second, like I didn’t know I could hate someone.”
Sebastian’s voice starts to shake, just at the edges, and Kurt’s hand tighten
involuntarily on his hand before he loosens his grip.
“ I’d always pitied the poor bastards with mismatched names you hear about on
the news. I always thought they were pathetic, the way they settled for
consolation relationships—or the ones that pined for the rest of their lives, I
always thought those were the stupidest of all.”
“So you decided you’d break up with me,” Kurt says, his years-old confusion
about Sebastian’s behavior then finally laid to rest. “You didn’t think I would
stay with you, so you wanted to get the inevitable break-up over with early.
You didn’t want us to get more serious.”
Sebastian smiles, and it’s not quite sad and not quite happy.
“Yes, that,” he says. “And—“
Here Sebastian breaks off, long enough that Kurt thinks Sebastian isn’t going
to continue.
Then, suddenly, it all rushes out, like the words have been swallowed back for
years and have just been waiting to be said all this time.
“And I thought that our mismatched names meant that you were good for me, but I
wasn’t good for you,” he says, “It was going so badly at the time, and you were
more distant every time I saw you. I was sure that was it, and I didn’t want to
keep dragging it on just because you felt loyal or some shit like that. I
wanted you to be the happiest you could be, and I didn’t want to be some burden
or some consolation prize—or—that’s a lie—I did, but I knew we’d both be
miserably eventually. We’d end up like my parents—”  
“But obviously the plan to break us up was never going to work,” Kurt cuts in,
because Seb is breaking his heart. “Because I called you on your stupidity and
arrogance.”
Sebastian huffs a watery laugh.
“Don’t be so conceited, babe,” he says, looking into Kurt’s eyes for the first
time since the story began. “You just—kept pushing, and pushing. And I
thought—in that case that… Well, why not? If the break-up were inevitable,
you’d initiate it eventually. For now, I’d just keep… doing that. I’d stay for
as long as you wanted to stay and were happy, until the day you weren’t. And
then I’d book both our tickets out.”
Kurt can see it now, the anguish in Sebastian’s eyes back then, the anger that
flared up sometimes when he looked at Kurt. At the time, he had dismissed it as
Sebastian being torn between the Name on his finger and Kurt. He’d worked so
hard to show Sebastian that hewas the right choice.
It hurts to realize now that Kurt had been unconsciously stabbing Sebastian’s
underbelly with each thoughtful act—that Sebastian must’ve thought of each act
as another thing ensnaring him more tightly to the web of their relationship,
while Kurt stayed by watching, unattached.  
Kurt touches Sebastian’s cheek, and lets himself rest his head in the nook of
Sebastian’s neck.
“But you eventually realized that day wasn’t coming, right? That’s why you
asked me to marry you?” he asks.
Sebastian smiles.
“No,” he says. Before Kurt can even think to be hurt by that, Sebastian is
pressing a dry kiss to his lips and then pulling back, smiling—and the smile
looks difficult, but genuine.
“No one can guarantee that. But being with you convinced me that it was…
possible,” he says.
Kurt is crying again.
Sebastian rolls his eyes, but he’s also laughing and a little red too, and he
gently rubs away Kurt’s tears. He fumbles around for the ring box, which had
fallen from Kurt’s hands onto the bed at some point.
“Questions answered then? Let’s get this show on the road, any more feelings
and I'll break into hives,” He says, glibly.
Then he’s flipping the lid of the ring box open and bringing Kurt’s hand to the
ring, which grips the cold metal tightly in his shaking fingers. With
Sebastian’s hand guiding him, Kurt slips the ring onto Sebastian’s finger, and
that too is perfectly right.
Kurt E. Hummel, engraved onto the gold of the band, slides neatly on top of the
Kurt E. Hummelengraved onto Seb’s skin.
Kurt can’t take his eyes away from the sight. His name. On hishusband.
Declaring to everyone that Sebastian is Kurt’s.
But—  
“I… I’m sorry,” he says, suddenly, helplessly. Because he doesn’t have a gift
to match what Sebastian just gave him. His hands fidget with his own ring
finger, where he can feel the silver band. It’s still so so heavy, a weight,
and he was desperate just a few hours ago to have it off and replaced with the
beautiful gold ring he’s picked out with Sebastian, but now he’s feeling guilty
and petrified—
Seb tilts his face up.
“I told you it doesn’t matter, and I mean it,” he says. “I don’t—that’s a lie.
I do care. But you were the one that taught me there are more important
things.”
Kurt takes a shaky breath. He regroups himself. Nods. It’s fine.
He’ll just spend the rest of his life proving his finger a liar.
He extends his hand, as Sebastian takes hold of his ring box and pops open the
lid to reveal a wide gold band. He pulls it out and holds it so Kurt can see,
glinting off the candlelight, carved on the inner surface in bold letters:
Sebastian Smythe.
He looks at Kurt and smiles, and Kurt returns it.  
Sebastian turns his gaze down, but Kurt keeps his eyes locked on his beloved
face. Sebastian’s hand lifts up Kurt’s own, steady and warm and gentle, just
like it always has been when Sebastian touches him. He feels fingers reaching
to pull off the silver band, air blowing across skin not used to being bare.
He waits for the new cold weight of the gold band sliding onto his finger.
It doesn’t come.
A second passes. Then two.
Then, just as Kurt is beginning to frown at Sebastian’s bent head, Sebastian’s
voice comes out, strained. “Look at your hand, babe,” he says. And he tilts
Kurt’s right hand up into his field of sight, palm in.
And there, at the base of his ring finger, in faded black lettering… Sebastian
Smythe.
Kurt can’t breathe.
“Given you paid attention zero percent of the time back in school, I might’ve
thought this is because you couldn't read then,” Sebastian drawls, and God,
Kurt loves when he puts on that snooty upper-class inflection, “but I also saw
your Name back in high school, and it definitely wasn’t this. You wouldn’t
happen to have an explanation for me, would you?”
Kurt shakes his head, fresh tears staring to fall down his cheeks.
He hasn’t seen his ring finger bare since he got that black ring years ago, not
even when he took off the black band in exchange for Sebastian’s silver ring.
He always felt so betrayed by it, hated it for lying about what was in his
heart  
He has no idea when it shifted, if it was bit by bit over the years, Blaine’s
fading out for Seb’s, or if it just changed one day—whether it was some time
during his freshman year, or when Seb came back to him, or when they decided to
get engaged, or when he finally met Blaine and turned him down—so many
significant moments, so many insignificant ones, on their way here.
He smiles through tears at Sebastian. His Name.Sebastian, whose Name ishim.
Kurt knew. He always knew. He had to convince Sebastian and his friends and
family and Blaine and even his fucking ring finger, but he knew.
And suddenly his hand seems unnaturally light.
“Put the ring on me already,” he demands. “What are you waiting for?" 
“Bossy bottom,” Seb mutters, but his fingers smooth away the tears on Kurt’s
cheeks.
Quickly and efficiently, Sebastian slides the ring on, snug over his own name.
The weight settles onto Kurt’s finger like a welcome responsibility.
Kurt turns it right and left to watch it catch the light. When he looks up,
Sebastian is staring down at him.
“If he met you first, it would’ve been him,” he says.
Kurt doesn’t ask who Sebastian means. He thinks this will likely always be an
insecurity of Sebastian, a sore spot that will always ache if prodded. It’s a
good thing Blaine and they likely won’t ever be friends, what with the
unavoidable awkwardness.
“Maybe,” he says, because he really doesn’t know. “Or maybe we would’ve been
one of those Found pairs that didn’t work out. Or maybe I would’ve met you and
been attracted to you anyway, and you me, and Blaine would’ve been just a
footnote again. Or maybe you and I would’ve hated each other.”
Kurt pauses for effect, waits for Sebastian’s eyes to shift as he reads the
certainty in Kurt’s face.
“But I don’t care about what-ifs,” Kurt says.
Everything hushes at the look in Seb’s eyes. He bends down. Slowly, softly, so
softly, his lips brush Kurt’s, and it’s like being at the altar, exchanging
vows, again.
Kurt blames sentimentality and endorphins for the sappiness of what he does
next.
His left hand pulls Seb’s right hand up and against his cheek. Kurt turns and
kisses Sebastian’s ring again and again, feeling lucky and a little drunk and a
lot in love.
When he turns back, Seb is smiling. He tangles their fingers, presses Kurt down
into the mattress, and pushes their bodies together, until Kurt’s breath
hitches with the touch of the hard line of Sebastian against him. He grips onto
Sebastian’s hand for dear life and catches Sebastian’s lips, content with just
this for now.
In the dim light of New York City cascading through the wall-length windows,
their gold rings gleam side-by-side.
Chapter End Notes
     And we're done!!! :D Thank you for sticking with me for roughly half
     a year, this is my first long fic and I hope you liked it. If you've
     been following silently, do leave me a comment, your comments and
     feedback seriously give me life (I literally obsess over them).
     You can assume they live happily ever after. They eventually own a
     French vacation home and a tiny dog whom Seb hates, because Kurt
     makes it little outfits and because the dog irrationally prefers Seb.
     Kurt talks Seb into adopting adorable children eventually, but not
     before Sebastian goes on to snark and save the world, and Kurt sees
     his name on an envelope at the Tony awards. Because in addition to
     being my different-soulmate-au-take and my manifesto on who Kurt is
     and what he needs in a relationship, it's that sort of happy ending
     fic.
     If you want an AU version of this already AU, check out The_Presence
     of_Absence, which diverts halfway through this fic.
End Notes
     Note - my relationship with canon is shaky as best, as I quit
     watching maybe halfway through Season 2 and kept abreast through the
     occasional song cover and episode summary. I've taken bits and pieces
     and reconstructed this timeline, but if you have suggestions, feel
     free.
     Title taken from The Time Traveler's Wife because I'm a sap.
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