A Glimpse of You
by Morgan D. aka morgandeeyue
A/N: Written for Kadam Week. The theme for May 7th was “Kadam AU”.
A/N 2: This is sort of a Glee/FlashForward crossover. The beginning of the story is set around 3.22 – “Goodbye”, when Kurt and Blaine were still together, but this is definitely a Kadam fic.
Lima, May 30, 2012 - 2 minutes before the blackout
"I didn’t get in," Kurt sobbed, diving into his boyfriend’s embrace. "Oh god, Blaine, I didn’t get in!"
"Kurt, I’m so sorry." Blaine held him. "Did they say why?"
"No." Kurt squeezed the already crumpled letter in his fist even harder, his tears falling freely down his face. "Just the usual ‘Thank you for your interest’ crap. I don’t get it! Carmen Tibideaux said she was impressed with me. Didn’t she? You were there, tell me! Did I hallucinate that?"
"Maybe she was just being nice? Maybe she didn’t have the heart to tell you the truth."
Kurt stepped away, staring at Blaine’s face in shock. “Wait, you didn’t like my audition? You told me it was good.”
"And it was, considering how little you rehearsed it. You should have stuck to Music of the Night, you know.”
Kurt started to cry harder.
With a sigh, Blaine pulled him back into his arms. “It’s okay, Kurt. The important thing is that we still have each other, right?”
At the end of the hall, Finn and Rachel stepped out of the choir room hand in hand. She looked torn and confused. He was trying to put on a brave face, but his despondency was evident.
"Wow, Rachel and Finn too?" Blaine whispered in Kurt’s ear. "You all got rejected?”
Kurt shuddered at the last word. “Rachel got in.”
Kurt nodded, pressing his face against Blaine’s shoulder.
"So what’s gonna happen?" asked Blaine. "They’re getting married tomorrow and… what is Finn going to do?"
"I don’t know. Follow her to New York, I guess. Be her full-time cheerleader. I don’t think he has a plan." He sniffed. "Neither have I."
Blaine rubbed circles on Kurt’s back. “It’ll be okay, I promise. Next year, we’ll both be in New York, toge—”
New York, May 30, 2012 - 9 minutes before the blackout
"You can’t be fucking serious!"
"No, absolutely not! I’m not letting you do this, Adam."
"And just how exactly do you intend to stop me?"
"With chains and whips, if I have to."
Adam chuckled. “I don’t doubt it.”
"Wise man," said Kayla. "I will maim you if I have to. It’s for your own good."
"Look, I haven’t made up my mind yet."
"Oh, yes, you have. You’re staying in NYADA, period. Now let’s change subjects and talk about something less ridiculous. So, what do you think of Donald Trump’s hair?"
Adam reached out over the kitchen table to ruffle Kayla’s short blond spiky mane. “You could pull it off.” Then, he became serious. “I just feel like I’m going nowhere here. Most of my teachers think I’m a waste of their precious time.”
"What the hell are you even talking about? Andresen fucking loves you! He even invited you to sit in on his classes this year even though you were not a senior yet."
"Yeah, but he’s the only one…"
"And he’s the one who counts. You know, that bastard being the Dean of Speech and Drama and all that.”
"It’s not a testament that I’m destined to a star-studded career," Adam countered. "In fact, he very much said he accepted me in the school because he likes teaching hard-working actors, not award chasers."
"And you don’t think that’s high praise coming from him?" Kayla stood up quickly as the kettle on the stove started whistling. She turned the burner off and poured the water into the awaiting pot. "Holly mother of hell, Adam, where is all this coming from now? Since I’ve met you, you’ve always been about the damn joy of acting, pretending to be other people, getting into the mind of fictional characters and making them real. You were never one of the demented I’m-the-next-Oscar-winner cannibals who devour each other on their way to the top and call it ‘ambition’. That’s why Kasper Fucking Andresen respects you.” She sat back down across from Adam, leaving the tea to brew. “That’s why he supports the Apples. He gets what the group is all about.”
"He partly supports it. And again, he’s the only one. The other teachers want me to either turn it into an elite competition group – and get rid of all current members, myself included – or disband it altogether so we don’t embarrass the prestigious name of the school.”
Kayla rolled her eyes. “Yeah, yeah. We’ve been getting that bullshit for two years already. You never let it bug you before. So what’s changed?”
"Nothing changed. And maybe that’s what’s changed.”
"Okay, now you lost me."
"Next year… it’ll be my senior year."
"I’m a Hufflepuff, Kayla!"
She stared at Adam for a long moment, as if expecting that statement to suddenly make sense. “I beg your fucking pardon?”
"I’m a Hufflepuff. A bloody badger!"
"Are we really talking about Harry Potter here?”
"I gave up on Potter when the cunt killed Sirius Black off. But if I remember correctly, Hufflepuff were loyal and patient and nice and hard-working.”
"Cedric was in Hufflepuff. Honestly, I liked him a lot better than I ever liked Harry." Kayla snorted. "What is it with authors that think it’s okay to kill off all my favorite characters?"
"You don’t get it," said Adam. "Hufflepuff is… the rest."
"The rest of what?"
"In its song in Order of the Phoenix, the Sorting Hat says that Gryffindor chose to teach the bravest, while Slytherin picked the cunning pure-blood wizards, and Ravenclaw taught the brightest minds. And Hufflepuff? 'Good Hufflepuff, she took the rest.' That’s an actual line from the song.”
Kayla made a face. “Yeah. I remember that now. Way to be offensive, JKR.”
"And that’s me!" Adam exclaimed. "I’m the average bloke who’s not special enough to be in NYADA…"
"You are in NYADA!!!”
"…and who only got here because there is this one teacher who favors hard work over star quality."
Kayla’s eyes widened in fury. “You shut the fuck up, Crawford, or I am seriously going to hurt you.”
Adam gave her the tiniest, weakest smile, then lowered his head, falling silent.
She crossed her arms over her chest, glaring daggers at her friend. “I’m sorry, but your metaphor sucks ass. Kasper Andresen is no Helga Hufflepuff. He doesn’t choose ‘the rest’. He chooses the real actors. The ones who need to be onstage so badly, not because of the fucking lights shining on them, but because acting is on their blood.”
"That all sounds really good, but I’ll still need to make a living…"
"Oh, for fuck’s sake! Maybe you should take another look at the list of actors trained by Andresen, at NYADA or elsewhere. Rock solid careers, most of them, even if not crowned with glamour. Truly respected names in the business, even if not that familiar to the paparazzi." Kayla placed the tea strainer on one of the cups and poured in the tea. "Just quit with the pity party, okay? You’re a lucky bastard and you don’t even know it."
Adam poured a little milk and a spoonful of sugar into the other cup before pushing it towards Kayla so she could fill it up with tea. “You might have an exaggerated notion of Andresen’s appreciation of my acting skills. Yes, I know, he’s let me sit in on his senior class…”
"Don’t. Just fucking don’t. No one even remembers him doing that for any other student in the past."
"…but he criticizes me all the time. For every little thing. Nothing is good enough, there’s always something I desperately need to improve. The only concession he makes that the other teachers don’t is that I have ‘potential’. That’s all.”
"Then live up to it! You’d accomplish nothing by leaving." Kayla took a sip of her tea, piping hot and unsweetened, and she didn’t even wince. "Where would you even go anyway?"
Adam shrugged and tasted his tea much more carefully. “I don’t know.”
"No. Either I’d stay here in New York or give Los Angeles a try."
"Why Los Angeles?"
"That’s where you Americans keep Hollywood, last I heard."
"So you haven’t given up on being an actor!"
"Hell, no. Of course not. I couldn’t."
Kayla banged her cup down on the saucer, spilling a little tea on the table. “Then what the hell were you babbling about just now, you dipshit?”
Adam smiled. “I love how affectionate you are with me when I’m blue.”
"I just think maybe NYADA is not for me," said Adam with a sigh. "Maybe one truly needs to be a demented cannibal to be here, because the whole purpose of being here is to prepare your Oscar acceptance speech."
"You need to get laid."
Adam blinked. “Well, hello, Ms. Non-Sequitur.”
"I’m serious. You’ve been out of action for so long, the unused jizz has seeped into your veins, climbed up to your brain and clogged your synapses."
"I seriously doubt that’s anatomically possible."
"If you tell me that you’re thinking of moving to California to chase some tanned Valley twink tail…"
"I’m not," Adam drawled.
"Because that’s what summer vacation is for."
“‘Summer fling, don’t mean a thing,’ he sang, 'but uh-oh, those summer nights…'”
"Then find someone who does."
"Who does what?"
"Who does mean something to you."
Adam stirred his tea, avoiding her gaze. “I don’t want to.”
"What do you mean, you don’t want to?"
"I don’t want to be in love again," he huffed. "It’s exhausting. It’s gut-wrenching."
"It also feels so fucking good,” she pointed out.
"Does it? I don’t remember that part."
"Come on, Adam. You’re the most disgusting sap when you’re in love. You’d literally talk about butterflies flitting and fluttering and flickering in your stomach."
He snorted. “Yeah, well. I only remember how heavy they feel as their wings turn to lead when things come to a bitter end. Forgive me if I’m not looking forward to another romantic ulcer.”
"You do realize you wouldn’t put up with this crappy defeatist talk from me or from any of your friends. You’d pester us with a million compliments, all very hyperbolic and entirely sincere, until we got back on our horses just to escape your ever godawful cheerfulness."
Adam raised his teacup for another sip. “That’s because all my friends are amaz—”
Kurt woke up from his blackout with a throbbing ache on his wrist, as Blaine had fallen over it when they collapsed. Finn got worse luck: a gash on the side of his head, probably from hitting it against one of the lockers as he fell to the floor.
Then again, all around the world there were hundreds of thousands dead, and the number kept growing as people failed to recover from injuries suffered during those two minutes and seventeen seconds when every single individual on the planet lost conscience.
The first hours were an unforgettable nightmare, but a deep sense of relief filled Kurt’s spirit as he realized his entire family and all his friends had made it relatively unscathed. The one in worst condition was Puck, whose left foot had been run over by Artie’s wheelchair when they both fainted on one of the access ramps to the school, but he was already using his cast to gain female sympathy.
Adam cut his lip and hurt his nose when his face landed heavily on the kitchen table. Kayla suffered very mild burns from having hot tea spilled on her hands and arms.
Kayla’s roommate didn’t make it. When the blackout hit, she fell down a flight of stairs and broke her neck, never recovering conscience. Kayla had never liked her much, and Adam had only talked to her a couple of times, but the knowledge that one of their peers was suddenly gone weighted heavily on them.
The city outside was in total chaos. A helicopter had crashed against a building only six blocks away. The streets were crowded with smashed cars, bloody corpses, wounded crying for help, and helpless people wandering in a daze, trying to understand what had happened.
NYADA closed its doors, urging all the students to stay safely inside until the worst was over. Adam helped the search for people in distress inside the building, cursing the fact that he had never taken a first aid course. Lots of broken bones and lacerations, but thankfully only two more casualties, both also from falls.
Later, Adam took refuge back in Kayla’s dorm room, holding her close as they watched the news on the TV. As they learned of the global scope of tragedy, Adam called his mother in England, and then his father in New Jersey. Both were okay. His dad was only upset because his favorite violin had been damaged in the crisis. And his mum had been reading in bed, so the blackout only caused her to miss her page.
At first, Kurt had been too worried about everybody – particularly his dad, who had fortunately been napping on the couch and didn’t even notice anything odd had happened – to put much thought on the dream he had had during the blackout. But soon people began to talk and recall their dreams. And soon came the realization that those had not been dreams at all. The newspeople started talking about visions, about how everybody in the world had had a glimpse of the future. A very specific future: March 13th, 2013, 1 AM GMT – which translated to March 12th, 9 PM in Lima.
As people began sharing their visions, Blaine suddenly decided he needed to go home and check on his parents again. Four days passed, and Blaine didn’t contact Kurt again.
And Kurt did not contact Blaine either.
"I was dancing with Alexandra Blasucci," Kayla murmured into Adam’s chest. She sounded completely bewildered. "At auditorium 2. We were the only ones there. She was trying to teach me something, and I kept messing it up on purpose just to make the time go slower. We were dancing to If I Loved You.”
She nodded. “I’m damn sure it wasn’t my song choice.”
"I didn’t know you liked Alexandra."
"I don’t! She’s one of the demented cannibals!"
He didn’t pressure her for more.
"What about you?" She asked. "What did you see?"
Adam cursed under his breath.
"What? Adam, what?"
"Butterflies," he muttered. "A whole rabble of them."
Finn and Rachel did not get married as planned. The blackout was offered as justification. After all, the façade of the Lima Municipal Center, where the wedding was supposed to take place, had been partially destroyed when a bus driver collapsed on the wheel, causing the vehicle to crash into the building. The Justice of the Peace was one of the many wounded.
Rachel was eager to set another date as soon as possible, even if it meant traveling to some other town with an active Justice of the Peace. She even mentioned eloping, and Vegas, and Elvis Presley impersonators. She wanted to get married, and she wanted to get married now. And then she wanted to defer her acceptance to NYADA, stay in Lima, and help Finn with his training until he was accepted there as well, and then they would go together to New York next year.
Finn, on the other hand, now seemed strangely reluctant to go through with any of it.
Part of the mystery was solved when Santana spilled the beans. “Berry will be pregnant in ten months.”
"What?" Kurt gasped.
"That’s what I saw in my flashforward. She was crying on my shoulder because she had just found out she had a weed brownie in the oven."
"A weed brownie?"
"At least that’s what I hope it was. Might have been a crack-filled bun, and in that case she’ll be thoroughly screwed."
"Santana, what the hell are you talking about?"
"I’m saying the baby’s daddy will be a drug dealer! Rachel was in denial about it, but I knew it."
"Finn would never… I mean, I know there was that whole thing with the vitamin D, but…"
"It wasn’t Finn’s."
Kurt gaped at her in shock.
"It was some guy named… Brody, I think," she added. "Ring a bell?"
"No. Should it?"
"I don’t know. I thought the name might have popped up in your own flashforward."
"Because if Berry will be our roomie in New York, it’s likely that the creep who’ll impregnate her will be in our lives as well?"
Kurt’s eyes stung with tears.
"What? What did I say?" protested Santana.
"Our roomie in New York? Our roomie?”
"How is that offensive?"
Kurt shook his head, dismissing her question. “I wasn’t sure. I thought it could be New York. There were big windows, but I didn’t look through them, so I didn’t see much outside. It felt like New York. Oh, god, I’ll be in New York!”
Santana smirked. “What about Adam?”
"Well, in my vision, I was coming home to our shabby loft and I asked Rachel about Pablo Escobar – I assume that’s my pet name for the impregnator – and the Hardy Boys, to which Berry said, ‘Kurt and Adam are at NYADA.’ So… is that our roomie too?"
Kurt excused himself before running away from that conversation.
"I’ll be in NYADA in ten months," he told Finn as they drank their ritual warm milk in the taller boy’s bedroom. "Which means I’ll be accepted for the winter term. I won’t have to wait a whole year. And more importantly, I will be accepted.”
"That is awesome, little bro!" Finn smiled. "You being rejected was just ridiculous, total bullshit. I’m glad they’ll recover their senses."
Kurt smiled back in gratitude, but he couldn’t hold the expression for more than a second.
"So why aren’t you happy?" asked Finn.
Kurt stared into his mug, and sighed. “Blaine and I won’t be together.”
"Well, he still has to graduate high school. I’m sure by next year…"
"No, I mean… we won’t be together. Not anymore.”
"Whoa. What happened? Uh, is going to happen, I mean.”
"I don’t know. In my flashforward, I was talking to this guy, and he asked me about Blaine. And just hearing his name made me feel so sad, as if someone had died." Kurt paled. "Oh my, what if… That can’t be, can it? He’s seventeen, he can’t…"
"Hey, hey." Finn placed his hand on Kurt’s shoulder and squeezed it gently but firmly. "No, it’s nothing like that. Blaine is okay. He’ll be okay."
"How would you know?! Maybe that’s why he hasn’t really talked to me since the blackouts! Maybe he’s one of those who didn’t see anything, and…"
“I saw him, okay? He was in my flashforward. He was okay. He seemed pretty happy, actually.”
"Oh." Kurt’s mind reeled. "He was happy?"
"Yeah." Finn seemed to catch up with what he was saying. "But you were sad. That’s why you think you two won’t be together anymore?"
Kurt shook his head. “I was talking about him in the past. And the guy… he asked me if he was a rebound from Blaine.”
"A rebound? So… you… and this guy…?"
"I think he was my new boyfriend."
"Oh. Wow." Finn took a sip of his milk, pensive. "Was he? A rebound, I mean."
Kurt closed his eyes, trying to evoke the memory of his vision. “I still loved Blaine. But I liked this guy. I really liked him, I felt it. He was tall, blond, handsome, and when he smiled at me, it was like someone had opened a curtain to let the sunshine in. He was horribly dressed, but I didn’t care. I didn’t care at all. And he talked to me like… like the fate of his heart depended on what I had to say.”
"And he had an accent."
Kurt nodded. “British.”
"Not quite." Kurt smiled. "But it sent tingles down my spine."
"So… it’s all good, isn’t it?" said Finn with a shrug."You’ll be in New York, in the school of your dreams, and you’ll have a new boyfriend, and Blaine will be okay too."
"But I don’t want a new boyfriend! I’m in love with Blaine! And he’s in love with me, so how any of this could happen?"
"I don’t know. Look, dude, I don’t know why we all got these visions, but… they change everything. A lot of water goes under the bridge in ten months, you know? And we usually don’t notice it, because we’re on this tiny little boat that literally takes ten months to do the crossing. But when the blackout hit, we were not on the boat anymore, we were on the bridge! And from the bridge we could see the water coming. Although I suppose we were wearing some sort of visor glasses that only allowed us to see this… slice of water… but still, when we woke up back on our boats, we knew. We knew the river was longer than we could see.”
Kurt’s eyebrows arched high on his forehead. “It’s possible the expression ‘water under the bridge’ doesn’t quite mean what you think it means.”
"What I’m trying to say is…" Finn huffed impatiently. "Look, before the blackout, I had no future except for Rachel. And maybe even not her, but now…"
"Wait. You said you saw Blaine in your flashforward? You mean… you were here? In Lima?"
Finn nodded. “I was in the choir room, with Mr. Schue and the Glee Club.”
"But you graduated!"
"I wasn’t a student anymore. I was directing the Glee Club along with Mr. Schue. I was like… a teacher."
Kurt’s eyes widened. “Wow.”
"The boys were doing this really cool number. There were a couple of them I didn’t know, I mean, that I don’t know yet. I’m guessing they’ll be joining next year. And I was clapping and giving them encouragements and all that teacher stuff. And when I woke up, I remembered having my hands raised in front of me, and… there was no ring in my finger.”
"That doesn’t necessarily mean…"
"No, but… Dude, I was happy. I truly was. Right here in our hometown. I didn’t feel like a loser, I didn’t feel lost. I had a purpose. And it had nothing to do with Rachel or New York.”
"Oh god. You’re not getting married, are you?"
Finn looked down at his mug. “I still love her. More than I could say. But it’s different now that I know that I don’t need her.”
When Blaine finally called Kurt, there was nothing in his voice to suggest that there was something amiss. He wanted them to meet, but the town was still in chaos, most shops were closed, and there were whole areas of the town blocked by the authorities to ensure firemen, paramedics and police officers could do their work in peace. So Kurt invited him over.
Blaine’s refusal was vehement and adamant.
Kurt was left with no choice but to brave the drive to the Andersons’ house. The remains of destroyed cars flanked the streets. He did his best to ignore the blood stains on the pavement he spotted almost at every corner. It wasn’t nearly as bad as the devastation faced by the big cities – like New York – from what he had seen on TV, but it was still heartbreaking.
Blaine greeted him with a loving kiss, as if nothing had happened.
But Kurt could not pretend. “I came so we could talk, Blaine.”
"Okay." Blaine seemed unsure. "About what?"
"Please. This is hard enough as it is. We can’t ignore what happened. What we saw. We need to deal with it."
Blaine sat down on the porch steps, looking a little queasy. “How did you… You talked to Sam?”
"I didn’t think he had noticed it, but… Or was it somebody else?"
"Blaine, what are you…?"
"You can’t fault me for something that didn’t happen yet!"
Kurt sat down beside Blaine, placing a hand on his arm. “I’m not faulting you for anything. I just want to know what happened to us.”
"What did you see?"
"You already know, or you wouldn’t be asking me."
Kurt frowned. “I want to hear it from you.”
Blaine’s shoulders slumped. “I was in Glee, singing with the boys. We were halfway through a mash-up of Danger Zone and Old Time Rock and Roll. I guess it was Tom Cruise week? I don’t know. Sam and I were singing lead. Artie, Joe and I were wearing those Top Gun jumpsuits, complete with helmet and sunglasses, while Sam… and these two other guys… well… they were dressed like Cruise in Risky Business.”
Kurt blinked. “Are we talking about…?”
Blaine nodded. “The Old Time Rock and Roll scene.”
"So you mean they were undressed like Cruise.”
Blaine’s face was burning red.
"Okay," Kurt drawled. "Then what?"
"Then the girls clapped, and Finn praised our performance… I have no idea why Finn was there, though. Was he the one who told you? Did he… see something during the performance?”
"Just keep going, Blaine. What happened next?"
"We went to the bathroom to change back into our clothes."
Blaine hid his face in his hands and groaned.
"I looked at him. Okay?" Blaine turned to gaze at Kurt. "He was there, with those naked legs, and the white briefs, and… those lips…"
"…and I couldn’t stop looking! And you can’t blame me for it, Kurt. You gotta admit he has the sexiest, hottest…" Blaine trailed off as he saw the pallor in his boyfriend’s face. "Kurt, this has nothing to do with you."
"Listen, nothing is ever gonna happen between me and Sam. You know he’s straight."
"And that is the reason why nothing is going to happen? You’re right, then. Apparently this has nothing to do with me at all.”
"Kurt, I’m telling you, none of this matters!"
"Really? Then why is it that we’re broken up ten months from now?"
Blaine froze. “We’re not.”
"Yes, we are."
"There was nothing in my flashforward to indicate…"
"So maybe you should ask me about mine."
Blaine’s jaw hardened.
"Ask me, Blaine."
"I don’t need to know."
"You’re not curious?"
"It doesn’t matter what you saw, Kurt. We’re soul mates. We’re going to spend the rest of our lives together."
"That is not what I saw."
"I’m telling you, it doesn’t matter!” Blaine yelled. “Maybe you saw this one day, this one moment in our whole lives where things weren’t so good, but that doesn’t mean…”
"Blaine, you saw yourself lusting after somebody else in your future. Doesn’t that make you wonder? Doesn’t it give you any doubts about what the state of our relationship might be by then?"
Kurt started at Blaine in utter stupefaction for a moment. Until realization came. “This isn’t new, is it?”
"This is not the first time you lust after other guys while you’ve been with me. That’s why you think it wouldn’t affect our relationship. Because you’ve been doing it all along."
Blaine opened his mouth to deny it, but couldn’t utter more than a few stuttering words before Kurt stood up and left.
Kurt spent most of the next three days in his room. He would lie in bed staring at the ceiling, his mind spinning with half-forgotten details of his entire relationship with Blaine since the day they had met. He felt weary and helpless as his memory relentlessly spotted all those tiny cracks in what had seemed like a beautiful, perfect canvas. Glaring defects that had somehow gone unnoticed before.
Or maybe not really unnoticed. More like willingly ignored.
On the first day, Blaine called him thirty-two times. Kurt let it all go to voice mail.
On the second day, Blaine didn’t call at all.
On the third day, he sent a text. 'Are we breaking up?'
Kurt cried into his pillow until he fell asleep. He dreamed not of Blaine, but of the blond man with mirthful blue eyes that crinkled when he smiled.
When he woke up, sad but well rested, he texted Blaine to warn him he would be coming over.
No matter what, Blaine had been his first. Kurt felt he had to at least honor that by saying goodbye to him face to face.
Mike was the first among Kurt’s friends to log into the Mosaic Collective website. He had seen himself working on a dance routine with a dozen other people in a room he later identified from photos as one of auditoriums at Joffrey Ballet School, and he thought it would be fun to contact them now, see if he could make some friends even before moving to Chicago.
Mercedes, having seen herself fighting a losing battle against a leaking faucet in an unknown kitchen, logged into the Mosaic in hopes of finding someone who could recognize the location of that apartment from what little she could describe, so she could make sure she would never rent it.
Puck, on the other hand, accessed the site to try to scheme people who knew some of the winning numbers in the lottery on March 12 into sharing those numbers with him. He claimed he knew three of those numbers and was willing to share the prize. A big lie, of course. Kurt suspected it wouldn’t matter. All gambling games were likely to be suspended on March 12, if not during the whole previous week, precisely to prevent the kind of trick Puck was trying to pull.
Kurt had been too caught up in dealing with the demise of his relationship with Blaine to consider the idea of posting his flashforward to the website until Finn suggested he gave it a try.
"If you saw your future British boyfriend, that means he’ll have seen you too."
Kurt gulped. “So?”
"So… if you post your vision, he’ll be able to find you. You won’t have to wait to get a new boyfriend."
"I don’t know if I was ready for a new boyfriend then, what makes you think I’m ready now?"
"You said you liked him."
"Yes! Yes. Oh, god. Yes, I liked him. But I don’t know the first thing about him! I’m not even sure of his name. Santana mentioned an Adam, but she might have been talking of somebody else entirely."
"But that’s what the Mosaic is for. For people to find each other and share what they saw. You know where you were, and how he looks like, how he sounds like, how he dressed and the stuff you talked about… Let’s face it, you have a lot more to go on than Mercedes with her broken faucet.”
Kurt sighed. “What if he doesn’t want to meet me?”
"He’s going to be your boyfriend! Why wouldn’t he?"
"Maybe he has someone now, someone he doesn’t want to break up with."
"Maybe. If that’s the case, he won’t contact you back. But you won’t find out until you try."
"Or maybe when he woke up he thought, ‘Man, why would I ever be with someone like that? I need to make sure I never make that mistake!’"
"What?" asked Kurt.
"I was just remembering when you tried out for the football team in our sophomore year. You kicked that ball into the middle of next week, and Coach Tanaka asked you if you could do it with the game on the line and ten gorillas bearing down on you wanting to taste your sweet, virgin blood."
"You remember what you told him?"
"No." But he did.
"You said, ‘Sounds like fun.’"
"Right. What’s your point?"
"My point? You’re Kurt Hummel. What the hell are you afraid of?"
The light blue tones of the Mosaic Collective website should have been soothing, but Kurt was as nervous as he ever was before an important performance.
He didn’t click on the sign-up button. He still wasn’t sure he wanted to share what he had seen with the online universe. For the past hour, his mind had been working on a way to phrase his vision that didn’t sound completely ridiculous, with pitiful results. 'I was talking to this sexy guy with a sexy accent and the brightest smile and he seemed to like me but I kept saying weird shit about crippled snowmen and then he asked me about my now ex-boyfriend and I thought I had scared him away but then he asked me out anyway so he must be a total nutcase so what the hell am I doing here looking for him?'
Yeah, probably not the smartest way to approach a guy.
So Kurt just browsed through the site, trying to understand how it worked, and then randomly reading some of the thousands of entries already posted there, trying to get a feel of how people were describing their flashforwards, how much detail they were getting into, and whether there was some tacit flashforward etiquette he should learn about before posting his own.
However, after perusing the entries for about ten minutes, Kurt realized there really wasn’t much of a standard post. Some were short and vague. I was trying on a green dress.
Some were short and straight to the point. I was watching sports news on the telly. Barcelona 4, Milan 0. Messi scored twice.
Some were several paragraphs long and offered so many details and personal information that Kurt feared other visitors with less noble intentions might take advantage.
Many referred to news about waiting for white smoke to come out of the Sistine Chapel. Jeez, another pope already? What happened to Benedict XVI?
But most seemed to describe more personal experiences.
I was feeding my dog. He wasn’t hungry. I hope he wasn’t sick.
I was driving home. For once there was no traffic on Bellthorne Boulevard.
I was playing Call of Duty: Black Ops II (OMG, I can’t wait for it to come out!!!) with my big sister.
I was buying new gear to climb Mount Elbrus. Horrible prices. I should start saving now.
Some contained messages. I’m a paramedic, and I was treating a little boy who had been victim of a hit and run. He was about ten, African-American, slightly chubby, and had a bluish birth mark right next to his belly button. He wore an Avengers tee shirt, and a yellow plastic watch with a Pikachu face. If your son fits this description, please keep him safe on March 12.
And then there were all the people who had seen nothing, and were desperately looking for people who might know what would happen to them in the future, looking for answers and ways to save themselves. Kurt couldn’t even imagine how those people felt right now. So far, everyone Kurt had talked to had a vision to describe, and that had given him a great sense of relief. Particularly when he had heard confirmations from all the guys that worked at Hummel Tires & Lube that his dad had starred in all their flashforwards, alive and kicking, and being his usual no-nonsense self as he inspected the work in the garage.
And also when Dave Karofsky had called him, and the first words to come out of the phone were “I was alive.” Kurt had heard the happy tears in his voice, and had cried and laughed with him.
Kurt changed the site’s view mode for “Maps”, and was offered the image of the planet covered by red pins. There were actually not as many pins as he had expected, and after a moment he realized many people might not have been able to identify their whereabouts from their visions. That’s what had happened to Mercedes, and she had mentioned something about how it was possible to post a flashforward to the Mosaic without specifying its location; it wouldn’t appear on the maps section, but it would be listed in all others.
Instinctively, Kurt started zooming and dragging until he could see the posts for the area of Manhattan. So, so many. Kurt felt his stomach heavy. Even if the guy he had seen in his vision decided to check the Mosaic Collective, the odds that he would manage to spot Kurt’s entry among that forest of red pins…
Then again, maybe he wouldn’t have to. As he placed the cursor over one of the pins pointing to the location of the NYADA building on the map, a text box popped up, topped by a tiny square photo of a blond man wearing a blue beanie. Kurt recognized him immediately.
The entry was one of the long ones.
I was in the dance studio at the New York Academy of Dramatic Arts, talking to a beautiful young man with stunning blue-green eyes. I believe I called him Curt. I was thanking him for giving me shelter from a snowstorm, and he made a joke about snowmen looking like they had scoliosis when they melt. :D
Judging from our conversation, ten months from now I will be dating this gorgeous, funny man. Judging from the memory of my feelings in the vision, I will be head over heels about this bloke, and I’ll be worried about whether he likes me back or not. But I really, really wanted to have a chance with him, so I invited him to the movies. Sadly, the blackout ended before I could find out if he wanted to come with or not.
Curt, if you’re reading this, I’d love to meet you. I can wait for time to take its course, if that’s your wish. Knowing I have your company to look forward to (for at least the time we will be snowed in together) is enough to get me to face the future with optimism. But I could hear the sadness in your voice over things that didn’t go so well in the past. So maybe you don’t want to wait? I don’t know your present situation. I don’t know if that past is already past or is still to come. I don’t know if you can be spared that sadness. I certainly hope so.
Either way, when classes resume this fall, I’ll be back at NYADA, and I’ll be on the lookout for you. When you’re ready, I’ll be waiting.
By the way, Curt, nice pirouettes. ;-)
Finn and Rachel’s breakup was explosive, even for their standards. Especially when her arguments in favor of their staying together went from ‘But we love each other!’ to ‘You need to save me from having a crack baby!’ Learning that Rachel might get pregnant by some other guy in the near future did not make Finn more territorial and willing to keep her. On the contrary, it brought back all those bad memories of Quinn’s betrayal, and made him more at peace with his decision to stay in Lima and study to become a teacher.
Santana gave up on the scholarship to the University of Louisville and decided to go to New York instead. It was Brittany who convinced her to go, claiming that Santana really had no choice on the matter, because Lord Tubbington had said so. According to Brittany, the feline had caused the global blackout by hacking into the computer of some physics institute in Switzerland because he wanted to prove that the future could not be changed even if people knew about it beforehand. So if Santana had seen herself in New York, she had to go to New York, period.
Also, Brittany had promised they could try the whole long distance thing, even though they were both skeptical that it would work.
When Santana announced her plans to the rest of her friends, Rachel grabbed her arm and begged her to be her roommate in New York and stay with her at all times and defend her honor against beguiling drug dealers.
"Berry, you know his name. Why don’t you just stay away from anyone named Brody?"
But later Santana told Kurt she knew the case was hopeless. “Midget Yentl has no clue how to take care of herself. I don’t know why I must be the one to teach her, but who knows, maybe that’s the karmic price I have to pay for my utter awesomeness. Besides, living in the city won’t come cheap, and while my mother offered me her savings to give me a start, having Gay Rich Berry Daddies pay for part of the rent will help a lot.” She sent Kurt a challenging look. “What about you, Porcelain? You coming or not?”
He didn’t give her an answer then, and he kept telling himself he hadn’t made a decision yet. But then he would catch himself checking New York real estate websites, researching job possibilities, and wondering how much money he could get if he sold his car – or if his dad would even let him do it.
But it was Burt who gave him the final push. “I want you to wait another month before you go to New York.”
"I know you’re going," said Burt matter-of-factly. "And I know you’ll be happy there. Carole said so."
Carole’s vision had shown her on the phone, telling her sister how relieved she was now that her two sons seemed to have found their way. She learned no more details from her flashforward – her sister was chatty and barely let Carole get a word in – but it had been enough to soothe both her and Burt’s heart.
"I just want you to wait a little, okay? You’ve seen it in the news how bad things are over there. Right now, I’d feel safer sending you to a wild jungle. Give it time so things can get back to some level of normalcy."
Kurt nodded. He had already realized that finding a job and a place to stay in New York would probably be a lot easier once there was no more need for the army to patrol the streets.
"And you do know that if anything happens, no matter what, you can always call me, and you can always come home. Right?"
Kurt nodded again, and dived into his father’s arms.
The next time Kurt accessed the Mosaic Collective, he immediately signed up to an account, and clicked on the ‘Add Flashforward’ button. He entered the address of NYADA’s main building, and a new red pin appeared on the map on the appointed location. After some inner debate, he uploaded a photo of his face, so Adam could recognize him and be sure he wasn’t being deceived. In the ‘What did you see?’ text box, he wrote:
I was talking to AdamHopefullyNotARebound, who asked me about some duet I used to sing with Blaine (my recent ex-boyfriend). And I was telling him that no, he was not a rebound, and I could feel he wasn’t. But I fear that if I were to meet him now, he might be. And I really don’t want that. Because he’s right, I was sad in my flashforward, but I was also feeling a lot of other things, very good things. Things I really do want to feel when the time comes.
So, Adam, if you’re reading this, I want you to know I’m making my way to our rendezvous. (Quite literally, in fact. I’ll be moving to New York in about a month.) I may not be ready to actually meet you yet, but you can PM me if you’d like.
And thanks for the compliment, but I know my limitations. My ex was more of the dancer in our relationship.
There. He was very much aware that he could try sending Adam a private message, but so far his experience approaching guys he was interested in had been less than encouraging. Adam’s post had been very charming and flattering, yes, but what if he had changed his mind since then? All kinds of things could happen in…
A green light appeared on the top left corner of the screen, indicating he had just received a message.
Let’s try this again: Hey, KurtWithaK. Nice pirouettes.
Kurt let out a totally undignified squeak, quickly covering his mouth with both hands.
Blushing so hard he feared his head would catch fire, he typed a reply. Thank you. And just Kurt is fine.
Adam’s response was a simple emoticon.
Kurt smiled back at the screen. His future seemed much brighter already.