A Deceptive Stability

Blaine pulled his keys from his pocket, evading Kurt's gaze. "Of course not. Now, where are we going to dinner?"

"I'd say Breadstix but I think you would rather fancy somewhere more...eloquent this time?" Kurt raised an eyebrow.

"We could go eat lobster at John Thomas Steak House. I've always preferred lobster over Breadsticks anyway. Or, we could go to The Heights and spoil ourselves with that deliciously fried duck and the gnocchi with special pesto." Blaine smiled, unlocking the car and opening the passenger door for Kurt. "Either way, it's an hundred and twenty dollar meal."

"I'm willing to split if you are." Kurt announced. "Considering I buy as much as I do, I always have quite a decent amount of money with me. Also, I'm fine with either but how can anyone make a $120 meal anyway?"

"Sounds good with me... and Kurt?" Blaine looked at him earnestly before shutting the car door, and said, "I love you, and no one else." Then, he walked over to the other side of the car and climbed in. "Let's go have a good dinner, without Sebastian in our heads."

"Here's hoping," Kurt murmured.

-- [Page break] --

Sebastian Smythe had come to understand that there was one thing about Hunter Clarington: he didn't fuck around when it came to getting a Warbler win. He promised Blaine, Blaine, Blaine - fuck it. He was starting to hate Blaine himself from how much he was mentioned. There was a crisp photograph in his room beside Hunter's bedside that was Blaine's. He looked sadder in that photo. He didn't know if Hunter was generally sane or if he was a lunatic, but he didn't want to test any of those theories. He laid on the bed, nearly expectantly. He looked up to see that Hunter walked into the room. His body was a sheen of sweat. He may be in a sport, but Sebastian didn't care enough to ask. His throat constricted.


--

Not enough clothes.

Sebastian gritted his teeth.

Not enough clothes.

He tugged at his scarf in the middle of the Lima Bean. He caught sight of Blaine again. He had come to hate Blaine. Maybe it was the fact that Hunter wanted him too. He was drinking a 20 ounce cup of coffee that he didn't really need. His eyes told stories of the nights he couldn't really fall asleep in. Hunter had been staring at him as he slept again. He still managed a smirk as he walked towards the couple. He sat down more next to Kurt than Blaine. Blaine, Blaine, oh fucking Blaine.

"Hey Hummel, miss me?" he asked, giving a signature wink towards Blaine.

"Why can't you ever mind your own business?" Blaine groaned. He was really getting tired of this, as if he wasn't already tired of it to begin with.

He didn't know why, but that struck something in Sebastian. Normally, he'd come up with a quip. He just took his coffee order and stood up. "Fine." He said, voice a little darker than normal. His facial expression hardened. "See you around, Bee."

"I don't hate anyone, he's just simply... trying to steal my bacon. That's what I don't like. Anyway, back to New York." Blaine adjusted his bow tie. "You have to go where Rachel is. Share an apartment. Do this for yourself. Be free. You can't keep trying to relive high school. I know you didn't get into NYATA, but that's no reason not to apply for an internship at Vogue."

Kurt sighed. "Okay, Vogue. Blaine, you have got to be joking if you think my fashion sense fits Vogue's standards," he looked down at the muffin he'd ordered. "I'm just afraid. What if this all...I don't know...goes out of plan? What if I'm better off here?"

"Why don't you just believe me?" Blaine smiled, reaching for Kurt's hand, squeezing it, and not letting go. "You're beautiful. I really really think you could do something out there. You'd love New York, and you hate it here. Believe me, you don't belong here. You belong where you can spread your wings and just, I dunno... fly? I'd hate to see you leave me, and I'd miss you like crazy, but Vogue is where you belong!"

Kurt sighed, shaking his head. "Blaine Anderson," he began. He loved the way his boyfriend's name rolled off his tongue. "You should be a motivational speaker one day."

Blaine laughed, sipping his coffee between soundbites of tittering. "Sweetheart, all those people want is money. I just want you to be happy."

"How did I manage to find you?" Kurt said, in awe, and then added on. "Well, I found you when I was spying on the Warblers, but..."

"You were always better than us." Blaine's gentle, soft voice drifted between ears. "Go to New York, Kurt. You're better off there."

After weeks of Blaine trying to probe the idea of New York in Kurt's mind, Kurt finally gave in. He looked down at the table. "Maybe you're right." If Blaine wasn't so sure about it, he wouldn't have tried to incessantly push Kurt in the direction of the nearest airport. Frankly, Kurt trusted Blaine's judgment more than he trusted his own sometimes.

Blaine's sad smile decorated his pink lips and pale face, etching into his high cheekbones. "I'll miss you. I'll be all alone, and I'll miss you, but it's where you belong."

Kurt almost mechanically let out a sigh and then nodded his head. "Perhaps, you're right, Anderson," he found himself smiling when he used Blaine's surname. It disappeared the second it formed on his lips. "Blaine, you are aware that I'm not bent on leaving you alone? As far as I'm concerned, you can still visit me every weekend. I'll make time for you."

"You're schedule will be hectic if they accept you at Vogue, but I accept your offer. As always, I love to see you succeed in excessive amounts of, well, success." Blaine smiled, leaned over, and kissed Kurt on the cheek, unashamedly.

Kurt blushed deeply and looked away. "Blaine, you're just about the only person that can make me blush like this." He said, humiliated at his rosy flush.



Hunter.

Hunter.

Hunter.

Thin skin underneath harsh teeth. Sebastian noticed a lamp. The lamp was black, and the night was too. It was cold again tonight.





One. Two. Three.

Sebastian ate his almonds in peace and drowned down a bit of chocolate milk. There was a bit of uneasiness. He felt ashamed, and slightly broken. He didn't know what else to do other than stare into the what was thin air, looking at other people. He couldn't sit with the Warblers after the slushie incident. Hunter sent him a smirk and Sebastian looked back down at his almonds. Four. Five. And if he ate another one, he'd probably puke.

Michele sat down at the table next to Sebastian's. He quietly watched, waiting, waiting, waiting, for his pulse, pulse, pulse to slow and for somebody to notice he was nowhere near the Warblers. And, he silently necessitated another reason to speak - another reason to ask Do these jeans make me look fat? and he already knew not to wear horizontal stripes.

"Hey, sexy," Sebastian sounded out from where he sat down. It wasn't like he was freaking traumatised or whatever that was, so it wasn't like those nights were important. They'd be important if he was traumatised and went all mental disorder on the Warblers, but he wasn't, so he was fine. He was freaking fine.

Away from the Warblers, Sebastian did notice the boy. He didn't know if he was there before or if he was new or whatever. Probably new because he wasn't wearing a uniform. They'd let that happen if the kid was new. "What's up with you?" he asked. Shyness was never one of Sebastian's qualities.

Michele didn't look up. He didn't even register the sound or the noise, but he knew who it was who had spoken and he knew where it was coming from. His talent was listening in on conversations, and so, that was exactly what he was doing with his time, he could even do it as he copied notes over for a friend of his. He didn't stop. Didn't pause. That was his talent - at least, that was one of them. He was a new Warbler, and had taken somebody's place. Whose, he was unsure. But, he didn't want a fight and he didn't want to step on anyone's feet.

There was something that Sebastian didn't like and that was not being noticed. He picked up his bag of almonds and his tall glass of chocolate milk, maneuvering his way towards Michele's table. Was he being a nuisance? Yes, but did he care? Absolutely not. He heard Hunter laugh when words were said around in the active Warbler's table. Sebastian smirked at Michele. "So you're just going to sit there, babe? Pretending like you don't even exist?" Classy comment, Smythe.

"Actually, I find minding my own business quite relaxing," Michele said in a clipped French accent, "It means I do not have to bother with anyone else's bull crap."