CHAPTER FIVE

January: New Delhi

For the next month, Kurt's priorities turned towards caring for his ailing father.

The second heart attack had been considerably stronger than his first and he had been left with limited movement in his left arm and right leg. Even with Carole's help, it still took the two of them to take full care of Burt and ensure that he was comfortable. He had spent two weeks in the hospital before being discharged and after that, he was designated to the round-the-clock care of his son and wife.

Which meant that Kurt had to leave his job in New York for a month so that he could be home with his father. They were paying him, but it was hard leaving the hustle and bustle of the city he had come to love only to return to the small town of his childhood that he had so hated. But he knew that it was necessary.

The first week or so was the most difficult. Kurt had managed to get a flight back to New York a few days after landing in Moscow and had then driven down to Lima over a ten-hour drive. He had asked Rachel to keep an eye on his apartment whilst he was out of town and informed his landlord that he wouldn't be living there for a short while, who had been sympathetic to his situation and wished his father well.

More than once Burt had tried to dissuade Kurt from staying so long ("You don't have to, kid, I'm fine on my own, I have Carole to help me") but he wouldn't hear any of it. It was all-important that his father regained his strength before he even tried to do anything else.

And so he did what he had done for a good portion of his Junior year of high school; he dedicated that next month to taking care of his father in the best way possible.

Luckily for him, focusing on his new task, improving his father's health, left little room for thinking of anything else. Or rather, anyone else.

The second week of his month-long leave of absence was punctuated with heart-fluttering dreams of a bright-eyed flight attendant with a dazzling smile and, more than once, he awoke in a sweat with a significant problem in his pyjama pants. And, more than once, he was forced to acknowledge that he had to put it behind him no matter how hard - pardon the pun - it was to do that.

It was Blaine's all-too-hurried exit. The way he'd left so quickly, stuttering and making excuses, not looking Kurt in the eye. And if he was honest, it hurt. Why had he left so quickly? Why had he not explained himself?

He hadn't heard hide nor hair of Blaine since then. No text, no phone call, no contact whatsoever. Not a peep. Aside from the nature of the whole situation, it was just plain rude, kissing someone and then not speaking to them again.

He hadn't told Rachel.

He didn't want to. It was better that she didn't know, because he knew that if he told her, she would tell everyone she knew and before Kurt knew it, he'd get frantic calls interrogating him about the whole thing. Which he did not want, not with a sick father to care for.

It was just.....frustrating. And annoying. And a whole load of other adjectives that would also be suitable and accurately described what he was feeling right now.

On top of everything else going on in his life, why this? Why now? Why, after months of flirting (was it flirting? Kurt thought that it was), did he pick now to make his move and then just run away? Kurt didn't understand it. He couldn't understand it. It just wasn't something he could wrap his head around.

He'd always been proud of being gay, but now that he saw how men could really be, he was seriously considering giving women another try.

But maybe not that seriously because years spent in the company of Rachel Berry and the Rachel/Finn/Quinn catastrophe had also showed him exactly how women could be.

He didn't know where to turn. It was as if he'd been left in an unfamiliar forest with no map and was expected to get to the other end. And he'd never been great at orienteering.

********************************************************

"Dad! No salt!" Kurt exclaimed over the dinner table that evening. "And don't think I can't see you sneaking it from the cupboard, because I can. Put it back."

Burt huffed grumpily and slid the salt cellar back into its rightful place. He was in a wheelchair for the time being, until he had had enough physical therapy to be able to move around more on his own without an aid, and had got a lot of fun out of using a long stick with a grabbing device on the end to reach for things out of his new height range.

Unfortunately, this also included things like salt when he thought Kurt wasn't looking.

"You got eyes in the back of your head or something, kid?" Burt asked, wheeling himself to the table with one hand.

"No, I'm just looking after you. You know that salt is forbidden, as well as any saturated fats. Which means no butter, either." he added sharply, fixing a beady eye on his father who had just reached for the tub. Burt grunted in disapproval but obeyed the order.

"How am I supposed to taste my food?" he protested.

"You don't." Carole interjected, hitting him playfully on the shoulder.

"I can see that."

"Oh, Burt, stop complaining. This is your health we're talking about." Carole replied. Burt's expression softened.

"You're right. Sorry. I won't steal the salt any more."

"Good. Because any more health complications and I swear you'll turn me permanently grey, and I just can't afford to start dyeing my hair before I'm thirty." Kurt said.

"Oh, we wouldn't that now, would we?" Carole teased, winking at him.

It was nice, this normal banter.

It was a distraction from everything he had felt for the past two weeks. The fear that his father wouldn't make it, the disappointment and hurt he felt in the wake of Blaine's unexplained behaviour. He had missed it whilst he was in New York and he was glad to have it back.

"So, how are things in New York?" Carole asked. "Work going well for you? You've been to some pretty exotic places lately."

"They're good." Kurt said. He wasn't what he was supposed to say. It was awkward, at least, it felt awkward. Especially now with Blaine in the picture. But was he really in the picture? Was he in anything?

"Just good?" his father probed. "I thought you loved it in New York."

"I do, I do." Kurt said quickly. "A lot of work, that's all." Hoping to change the subject, he asked suddenly, "How come Finn isn't eating with us?"

Burt and Carole shared a look across the table.

"He's staying somewhere else tonight." Carole answered cryptically. "He's met someone."

Kurt choked a little on his mashed potatoes. Finn had met someone? Finn, his dim but well-meaning giant of a stepbrother, had met someone?

"A girl called Mandy, she's a music teacher at the elementary school near where Finn lives." Carole explained.

"Oh, that's nice." Kurt said, and he meant it. Ever since Rachel, Finn hadn't had much luck with women or romance in general and he was pleased that he seemed to be getting back into the 'dating game' as his colleagues at work insisted on calling it. He had personally never liked the phrase; it suggested something done for fun, a 'game' in the very sense of the word, with no commitment.

"What about you, Kurt? Met anyone you like?" The question came from Carole as if she'd been reading his mind.

Shit. Think quickly, Kurt. Whatever you do, do not say, "Well yes, dad, there is one man I'm interested in. I am very interested in him actually but he's a flight attendant that I only see once a month and two weeks ago he kissed me in an airplane bathroom before making a speedy exit which pretty much proves that I am undatable."

"No, not at the moment." he replied, trying to be as vague as possible. "Work doesn't leave much room for commitments outside the office."

"You'll find someone eventually." Burt said, a forkful of green beans halfway to his mouth. "You're a good enough catch for anyone."

"Dad!" Kurt flushed. "A little inappropriate for the dinner table?"

"Doesn't stop it being true, kid."

"If you say so." Kurt muttered, swallowing several large gulps of water to try and buy some time. The fact that his father and stepmother were so interested in his love life made him uneasy. They had never been this nosy with Finn, not since he and Rachel split several years ago after high school graduation. It was confusing, slightly annoying and very invasive. To him, it felt like being a twelve-year-old girl whose parents had read her private diary.

"You need to start thinking positively, sweetheart." Carole said. "Good things come to those who wait."

Maybe I've been waiting too long, Kurt thought. Why should I have to wait any longer?

***********************************************************

Four days before Christmas, Burt had a relapse.

He took a funny turn on the stairs and fell, dislocating an already frail knee and suffering a minor head injury. Kurt had been out getting last-minute groceries when it happened and had returned to find an ambulance parked outside the house.

His heart felt as though it might drop out of his stomach and the grocery bags had fallen from his hands, the newly-bought items rolling away unnoticed as only one thing entered his mind. He has to be okay.

Luckily, he was. After spending four hours in the ER, he was finally allowed home with a brace on his knee and strict instructions to not move a muscle at all for the next few days, until they could be sure that the head injury had done no lasting damage.

But this second incident had deeply disturbed Kurt. Scared and shaken, he had taken to camping out on the floor of the living room where his father slept on the sofa, unable to manoeuvre the stairs, in order to keep watch over him during the night. Anyone else might have said he was overreacting, but he knew better. He had been in this situation too many times for peace of mind.

And Blaine had yet to contact him after their last meeting. No word nor sound. Which was just the icing on the cake as far as Kurt's stressful, emotional month had been.

Not to mention that he continued to dream about Blaine at night, as his schoolgirl crush developed into something significantly more over the weeks since they had last met.

He didn't want to admit it to himself, but he really did have serious feelings for him. At least, he felt like did. He didn't have much to compare it to, but this what he was feeling was very different to how he'd felt about Finn by a long shot. That was a slightly borderline creepy obsession; this was, well, something very different. Something that he couldn't explain.

And with everything going on in his life, he didn't deserve this kind of fucking around, especially from a guy.

He also may have been checking his cell several times an hour to see if Blaine had called or at least attempted to call, or texted, but to no avail. He even jumped during the night, thinking that his phone had rang, only to discover that it was just the gurgle of the central heating or a cat outside on the street.

It was completely, irrationally frustrating.

Women were suddenly looking appealing again.

*****************************************************

Christmas day was a sombre but cosy affair. With Burt still unable to move around much, they spent it in the living room. They didn't bother with a full three-course festive dinner; Carole wasn't up toit and it would be too much stress on the family, and so they settledfor a much simpler meal which Kurt actually enjoyed a lot more.

He loved Christmas with his family. Despite the circumstances, he really did. He loved the holidays; the smell of the Christmas trees, the hideous festive fashion that he just couldn't help but warm to as well as hate at the same time, the jolly Christmas music. He had always loved Christmas.

They watched The Wizard of Oz on the TV and It's a Wonderful Life, in which Kurt and Carole cried and Burt pretended not to notice whilst Finn, who had detached himself from his new girlfriend for the occasion, asked questions like "What movie are we even watching?"

Kurt ignored him.

It was exactly the same as it always had been, but different. Different in a way that Kurt, so used to spending the holidays undeniably and depressingly single, now found himself occupied with thoughts such as, "What if?" For the first time in a long time he imagined what it might be like to spend the festive season with a significant other.

Or rather, one significant other in particular, whose name he didn't even want to think to himself for fear of jinxing the entire situation.

Kurt may not have believed in divine intervention, but he did believe in Fate, and right now Fate had dealt him a pretty crappy set of cards.

It was with this thought that he realised what he would have to do. He'd been putting it off for weeks because he knew what would happen, but now it seemed inevitable.

He would have to ask Rachel for help. And he was dreading making that call.

He finally had the courage to do it on New Year's Eve. Giving his father and Carole the slip by pretending to have an enormous headache and excusing himself to go lie down, Kurt slipped upstairs to his old childhood bedroom to make the call. He didn't want to run the risk of getting the Third Degree again.

It was strange going back to his old bedroom. It wasn't really a bedroom any more, more of a guest-room-cum-storage-space for all Burt and Carole's (mostly Carole's) odd nicknacks and paraphernalia that couldn't fit into the garage or elsewhere in the house. Kurt's former king-size bed was gone, replaced with several large bookcases and copious amounts of shelving, filled with various odds and ends including a broken lamp, their old TV, old board games and stacks and stacks of books. Gone was Kurt's pure white dresser and nightstand - taken with him to New York - and the large display case that used to stand next to his bed. That had been too big to fit into his city apartment and so he'd had to get rid of it.

The room itself hadn't changed. It was still the same white it had been when Kurt decorated it in his Junior year, the same size, the same space. Only the contents had changed. Kurt felt a moment of nostalgia, thinking of all the things that had happened in this bedroom over the years. The most recent memory he had of being in this room was being comforted by his father when he had been rejected from the New York Academy of the Dramatic Arts, even after a successful application and an audition deemed 'outstanding'.

But now was not the time to think about such things. He needed the advice of his best friend, whether he liked it or not. If anyone knew what to do, it would be Rachel.

She picked up after three rings.

"Hello?"

"Rachel, I really hate myself for saying this, but I need your help. But first I have to tell you something and you have to promise not to freak out." Kurt rushed out in one breath, his heart hammering a mile a minute. He swallowed a few times whilst waiting for Rachel to answer.

"First of all, I resent your first comment because I give excellent advice. Secondly, tell me more!" she shrieked, and Kurt almost had to cover his ears from the sound.

"Blaine kissed me." he mumbled into his cellphone, his voice so low that he wondered if Rachel would even hear him.

"What? I can't hear you."

"I said, Blaine kissed me." he repeated in a whisper. Did he really have to spell it out for her? Because he really didn't want to.

"What?"

"I SAID BLAINE KISSED ME!" he shouted, and immediately regretted it because his outburst was followed by a deadly silence on the other end of the phone. He swore he heard footsteps outside the door and he froze, listening intently in case it was Finn or, worse, his father. But he heard nothing more and breathed harshly as he waited for Rachel's reply.

"He did what?" Rachel spluttered after a moment, and Kurt could almost picture her eyes round and bulging out of her head in shock.

"He kissed me." Kurt said for the third time, and found that it was actually easier to say now that he'd said it - well, shouted it - out loud once. "In the bathroom of an airplane, of all places."

"Was it good? What did his lips taste like?" Rachel gasped, "Where there fireworks? Did he cry?"

"What? Rachel, no, stop!" Kurt said. "Wait, why would he cry?" She really is insane, he thought.

"Jesse cried when he kissed me once." Rachel said matter-of-factly. Kurt resisted the urge to roll his eyes, remembered that Rachel couldn't see him, and did it anyway.

"Rachel, Blaine is not Jesse. And he didn't cry, actually" he snapped. "Look, Rachel, I came to you for help with this so are you going to give it to me or not?"

"Alright," Rachel huffed. "No need to get all diva on me. So, Blaine kissed you. And now you're.....upset? Happy? Describe your emotions!" she demanded.

"Mostly I'm just....confused. We had this......dare I say it......pretty incredible kiss and I'd just found out that my dad had his heart attack and he swooped in with his.....his stupid smile and his nice hair and kissed me and then he ran off!"

Kurt hadn't realised that there were tears in his eyes until he felt one sliding down his cheek, and he hurried to wipe it away, embarrassed for getting so emotional.

"What do you mean, he ran off? Weren't you on a plane? It's not like he could really go anywhere." Rachel replied.

"Don't be stupid, you know what I mean. He just....ran off, left me sitting there on the freaking toilet and then ignored me for the rest of the flight! He didn't even look at me!" Kurt paused, and felt himself deflating, as if a balloon had been popped inside him. "What am I supposed to do?"

"I don't know if I'm the best person to answer that question, Kurt." Rachel said softly.

"Well, that's such a help." Kurt retorted, his voice dripping with sarcasm.

"Look, you obviously really like this guy or you wouldn't be so upset about it." Rachel began.

"I really do." Kurt heard himself saying. "I really, really do." It was the first time he'd admitted it out loud and it felt.....good?

"And if you really do like him as much as you've just said you do, then maybe you need to take the lead, so to speak." she finished.

"Like what? How do I "take the lead"?" Kurt asked sceptically.

"Well, you say he left quickly after you kissed. Maybe he's nervous. Maybe he's too shy to make the first move-" Rachel replied, but Kurt cut her off.

"He kissed me, Rachel. Surely that counts as 'making a move'" he said.

"Maybe, maybe not. Like I was starting to say, maybe he's too shy to make a first move, apart from the kissing. Maybe he freaked out, but that doesn't mean to say that he doesn't like you, too." she reasoned.

Kurt thought about this for a moment. The kindness, the thoughtful gestures, the sweet notes written on napkins - which he had kept, against his better judgement - it all made sense. But somehow he was having a hard time believing it.

"I know it's hard to believe, Kurt," she said, as though she had read his mind, "but maybe it's true."

"You still haven't given me anything useful in terms of help. If anything, now I'm even more confused than I was before I called you." he replied.

"You want my advice?" she offered.

"Yes, Rachel. As if it wasn't clear enough, I've said it about a hundred times since the start of this conversation."

"I think you should call him." she said.

"What?" he exclaimed, jumping up from where he'd been sitting on an overturned cardboard box. "I can't do that! Have you gone insane?"

"You said you wanted my help. That is my help." she said.

"No!"

"No, what?"

"No, I am not calling him. Not after what happened. It would be weird and awkward and what would I say and....no. You are not making me do this." Kurt insisted.

"You've called him before." Rachel pointed out.

"Yes, but I got his answering machine and then he picked up halfway through the message. It was embarrassing."

"You think everything is embarrassing. Why can't you just live a little, Kurt? It could be good for you!" she said.

There it was again. The you should live a little, try new things, explore life speech. He'd had it enough times from his father over the past three years and now he'd had it from Rachel, too. He was perfectly content with the life he had now - why bother trying to change it?

"And what if it isn't?" Kurt asked. "What if - what if it all goes horribly wrong?"

"It won't." Rachel insisted. "Trust me."

********************************************************

As it turned out, Rachel was wrong.

It did all go horribly, horribly wrong and Kurt just didn't know what to do with himself at the end of it all.

He didn't call Blaine as Rachel had told him to. He waited until he was due to fly to another transatlantic location, hoping to use the flight as reason to see Blaine and talk to him, to tell him exactly what was on his mind and exactly how he felt. He wasn't really sure what that was, but he was going to give it a try anyway.

What did he have to lose?

Well, except my pride and dignity, not much, he thought cynically to himself. But better to try and fail than not try at all. Or something like that, anyway.

His opportunity came when, a week after he had returned to work at the beginning of January, he was informed that he would be posted to New Delhi for two weeks mid-month to oversee the launch of the first collection of an Indian designer they were interested in using for Vogue's global issue. The idea of a round-trip flight to India didn't exactly have him jumping for joy, but work was work and he would be cold in his grave before he gave less than 100% effort to everything expected of him.

But it did give him the perfect chance to see Blaine and admit to him that what had happened had been so, so great, but also very hurtful, and he wanted an explanation.

So, to New Delhi it was.

One of the most culturally rich places in the world, it was bursting with people and noise and colour. At least, it was if the interpretation of India in Slumdog Millionare was anything to go by. He hoped it would live up to his expectations.

The arrangements were made, his stuff was packed (and it all fit in the case this time), he had all the relevant documentation ready in his travel bag. He tried to tell himself that it was strictly professional but, of course, it wasn't.

On the way to the airport, he rehearsed what he was going to say to Blaine. Why did you kiss me? Why did you leave? Do you like me? Because I think I like you. I think I like you a lot.

Well, perhaps something a little more eloquent than that (he hoped), but the logistics of the thing were all there.

He was actually perfectly on time this time, neither late nor early, and didn't have to queue long for check-in. He didn't even have to wait long in the boarding lounge before his flight was called.

"Ladies and gentlemen, flight 401 to New Delhi is now boarding. Please make your way towards boarding gate 12. Thank you."

Kurt would be lying if he said he wasn't nervous, because he was. It wasn't everyday that he was preparing to confront a potentially awkward situation by admitting his feelings for someone he had only seen a handful of times and yet felt......strangely strongly about. It's time to man up, he told himself firmly. No withering away into shyness and messing this up even more than it already has been.

It was with attempted confidence that Kurt strode through the boarding tunnel and out onto the plane, trying not to let his nervousness show on his face, which he was sure had become pale and blotchy in an extremely attractive way since he reached the airport.

He drew himself up to full height and began the search for his seat, forcing himself not to scan the body of the plane for any sight of Blaine, which was a very difficult thing to do as his eyes seemed to be drawn to the crew's cabin at the front of the aircraft, as if Blaine might appear by magic from behind the curtain separating the cabin from the passengers.

Kurt sat down next to the tiny airplane window and deposited his bag under the chair at his feet, not bothering this time with the overhead compartment. He would find another way to catch Blaine's attention when he saw him.

And now I wait, he thought, the nerves building in his chest and in his stomach as he sat there, eyes flickering around the aircraft, hoping to catch any sight of Blaine. Perhaps he would hear him before he saw him, hear his smooth, melodic voice and friendly tone, attending to the other passengers on the flight.

Perhaps he would be treated to a nice view of his ass.

He waited and he waited. He waited until the plane began to taxi down the runway, rumbling and groaning like an enormous beast. He waited until the plane was in the air and he could take off his seat belt. He waited until he needed to go to the bathroom, forcing away any memory of what had happened in a similar bathroom previously, hoping to catch sight of him.

He waited until the drinks cart came round. He waited until the food cart came round, some time later. He waited whilst he had a short nap, expecting to wake up and see him standing there with his usual white smile.

Kurt waited for the best part of three hours before the reality dawned on him like the inevitable grey clouds after a bout of sunshine.

He wasn't here. Blaine wasn't on the flight. He'd set his expectations high and he'd only been bitterly disappointed.

Is it because of me? Kurt suddenly thought. Is he not here because of me? Is he avoiding me - or did I drive him away?

The possibility that Blaine had not turned up for work on the slightest chance that Kurt would be on one of his flights was ludicrous. He knew that. And yet, the more he thought about it over the next few seconds, the more it seemed plausible to Kurt.

But it was impossible. There was no way that that's what had happened, that he had not showed up because he didn't want to run into Kurt. No way. Absolutely no way. Kurt racked his brain, trying to come up with any other excuse. He's sick, he thought. Maybe he's sick and couldn't make it. Maybe he has a family emergency. Maybe a relative died....no, don't think that, if it's true you'll feel guilty.

And yet in the back of his mind was the same nagging thought. But what if I'm right? What if he's avoiding work because he's avoiding me?

I can't believe I screwed this up before I even started.

Kurt got his hopes up again at the stop over in Sharm El Sheikh, riding on the off chance that Blaine might be there to continue on to New Delhi. But he wasn't, and Kurt's balloon of expectation popped again, limp and sagging in his chest.

With his head in his hands, he resigned to admitting the truth; he wasn't here and he wasn't going to be. He spent the rest of the flight to India in complete and utter silence, contemplating exactly what he could have done wrong to turn Blaine away.

**********************************************************

"Ladies and gentlemen, we are now approaching Delhi International Airport. Please ensure that you have all your belongings with you before you leave the aircraft. We hope you have had a pleasant and enjoyable flight."

"देवियों और सज्जनों, हम अब दिल्ली अंतरराष्ट्रीय हवाई अड्डे के पास आ रही हैं. कृपया सुनिश्चित करें कि आप के साथ अपने सभी सामान है, इससे पहले कि आप विमान छोड़. हमें उम्मीद है कि आप एक सुखद और सुखद उड़ान पड़ा है. "

Kurt's feet felt like lead as he slowly but surely collected his belongings and made to disembark the plane as it rumbled to stop on the runway. It was raining outside; he could see it spattering on the windows of the airplane as he passed down the aisle. As if needed any more bad omens, he thought spitefully.

Thankfully, a ramshackle old bus that had clearly seen better days came to pick them up directly from the front of the airplane.

Kurt jostled his way through the throng of passengers in order to be one of the first to get on; he had business to attend to and, in any case, he hated the rain and didn't want his brand-new Diesel jeans to get wet because he'd never get them dry.

It took them twenty minutes to get to the main building of the airport and once inside, it was crammed with people. It wasn't an exaggeration to say that India was one of the busiest countries in the whole word. The noise was unbelievable.

Pushing his way through crowd after crowd of people, Indians and foreigners alike, he grappled for the luggage conveyor belts and within minutes swung his much-loved Italian leather cases off the belt and struggled through to find and empty space in which he could gather all his possessions together and check he had everything he needed.

Easier said than done when everyone's practically like sardines in a too-small can, he thought grumpily. If this is how it is here, how am I going to get through the streets? I'll have to wear a police light and a siren on my head if I want to go anywhere.

Kurt decided to check his cellphone whilst he was still in a public place with cell reception, just in case he'd been left any messages by his father or Carole. He didn't think he'd get much reception when he was out in the streets until he got to his hotel, so he might as well check it now.

He had one message, a voicemail. He pressed 123 to listen to it without checking who it was.

And his heart and stomach clenched painfully as he heard Blaine's voice through the speaker on his cellphone.

"Look, Kurt.....I guess you're not there right now or you're not picking up your cell for some other reason, but I just wanted to see if you were okay.....if your dad was okay after his heart attack......and I wanted to say that, that I'm sorry, again, for what I....for what I did. It was stupid of me to do that because I didn't even ask your permission first and that was really irresponsible of me and I've never done anything like that in my life before and......I'm just sorry. And you're probably thinking right now, "Stop apologising!", but the thing is, I don't think I can. And I might be a bit drunk. And I'm sorry for that too. I'm just not good at this stuff, at this romance stuff, this liking people thing. I'm not good at any of it and I keep fucking it up. So I'm going to apologise one more time and I hope that you'll forgive me. Sorry."

There was audible sniffing and some shuffling, a crackle, and the line went dead. The message ended there.