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“I’m hungry,” whines Tina.
“I’m starving,” says Sam. “Why did we come back here instead of grabbing something to eat first?”
“I know, Sam,” Blaine says, toeing a piece of curb while they stand outside the concert venue with other fans, waiting for Darren and his band to come out. “But if we leave now, we risk missing him.”
“Dude.” Sam’s grabbing Blaine by the shoulders now. He shakes him a little, like he’s trying to get a confession out of him. “What’s more important? Meeting your idol a second time or watching us starve to death?”
Blaine’s about to answer, but then does a double-take. “Wait. What? I don’t want you to starve to death at all. I want the opposite of that.”
“Exactly!” Sam says, triumphant.
“Oh, fine,” Kurt spits, finally. “I’ll go get something if it means I don’t have to listen to the three of you try to plan your way out of a paper bag! I mean, what are your phones even for?” He pulls out his and begins searching for the nearest source of food.
Sam offers quietly, “We usually figure stuff out in secret meetings . . .”
They decide to send two of them to get food, while the other two stay behind. It takes all of Blaine’s willpower to do the polite thing and offer to go; Sam eagerly volunteers himself to help. As the two boys walk away, Blaine looks over to see Kurt happily chatting with Tina.
“I’m so glad they’re getting along again,” he says to Sam.
“They’re a lot alike,” Sam says, very matter-of-fact.
“Hmm,” says Blaine. He thinks about the ways that Tina and Kurt are both fighters, at how they both speak their minds, or how they both have that desire to perform, and smiles. “I never thought about that before. I think you may be right.”
“Of course I am, dude,” says Sam, as they head for the closest, but most unglamorous food source ever: the gas station.
They walk in comfortable silence for a while, then Blaine wonders aloud, “Do you ever—imagine yourself, you know, a star? On stage—“
“The audience going wild?” Sam interjects. “And as fireworks go off all around I sort of fly down from up above with this kick ass guitar?” He pauses and glances back at Blaine sheepishly. “Yeah, once in a while I think about it. You?”
“Well,” Blaine says, “Sometimes I think it’s weird that I don’t. I mean, I love music, I love playing music, I love performing. I just don’t have a specific dream like that I guess—not like you do.”
There are no cars outside the gas station as the boys approach it; the stillness as well as the faint scent of food inside causes them to quicken their pace.
—————
The four of them are sitting on the curb near midnight, legs outstretched, sharing some lukewarm pizza bagels and bottled water, the results of the gas station haul. “So who are all these people, Blaine?” asks Kurt. “Tell us about the groupies.”
“There not groupies,” says Blaine. “Don’t say that, that’s—“
“Fans,” chimes in Tina. “They’re fans. Although,” she says, peering at the crowd of people still sticking around, “maybe some of these people are Darren stans.”
“Stans,” Kurt says.
“Fact!” says Sam, his finger in Kurt’s face. “Don’t just call people stans—it’s rude.”
“You fans have a lot of rules,” Kurt comments.
“But none of this is new, Kurt. Didn’t you used to blog about Project Runway and the outfits you made and put together? At least I remember you used to,” Blaine says.
“Oh, but that was different,” says Kurt. “I never achieved Tour Bus Level in my obsessing about that show. Mostly I was trying to, I don’t know, share what I wore with an audience who might actually care, because the people at McKinley never understood what I was doing.”
The other three respond at exactly the same time, Tina and Blaine both saying, “But I cared,” and Sam, “You’re right, I never did understand it.”
Blaine adds, just loud enough for Kurt to hear, “I was always your groupie, Kurt.”
Kurt smiles.
—————
They talk about a lot of things—glee, their classes, their summer jobs—but conversation always seems to drift back to the show they just experienced.
“Favorite song tonight?” asks Tina. “For me it’s ‘Pheromones.’ It’s catchy and everybody was into it. I would sing it in glee club, if Mr. Schue ever allowed us to sing something from this decade.”
Sam nods and says, “Mine’s probably from the solo part of the show—I’d love to play one of those on my guitar. Don’t you want the way I feel?” he starts singing. “Don’t you want the way I feel? Um, that’s all I remember, but I like that one a lot.”
Blaine smiles softly at his friend and adds, “That’s one of my favorites, actually, Sam. But tonight, I really loved ‘Once upon a Time.’”
“His version of ‘Teenage Dream’ is . . . haunting,” adds Kurt, softly. “With the violins. And then it becomes something else—almost angry, but that’s not right. Maybe determined is the word.” He looks up to find Blaine’s eyes on him. Blaine looks startled, then adds a contemplative, “Yeah.”
—————
The fans waiting jump to their feet again when they see some activity near the doors of the venue. Eventually, someone with with “SECURITY” printed on their T-shirt walks out and stops in front of the sizable crowd. “They won’t be out until 3:30,” he says. “Sorry, guys.” He turns and heads back inside.
Immediately, Blaine sees many of the people who are waiting begin talking amongst themselves—and soon after many of those groups simply begin leaving. “This is great,” he says, whispering. “The crowd’s shrinking!”
Kurt yawns. “But 3:30, Blaine? It’s 1 AM right now. I don’t know how we’ll make it home. I’m tired.”
Blaine peers at the doors to the venue. “He won’t take that long,” he says.
He’s sure of it.
—————
By 2 in the morning, the buzz from earlier has wore off quite a bit. All four friends are quiet and droopy-eyed; Sam’s head rests on Blaine’s shoulder, while Tina’s rests on Kurt’s. None of them really want to leave. Then again, none of them understand entirely why they stay seated on the curb, either.
Just a few minutes later, there’s suddenly a lot of activity near the venue’s doors. Finally, after what feels like forever, Darren emerges from the building. The 3:30 prediction turns out to be a ploy after all.
Blaine feels the slightest twinge of guilt as Darren makes his way toward all of them who are left waiting. Here’s a guy, he thinks, who had been preparing for a show earlier today, spent all the time before the show meeting fans, then did the show, then without any real break met more fans, and now, when he’s ready to probably crash, he’s got what looks like a couple hundred more fans who want to talk to him. It feels like a lot to ask, but there’s something eager in Darren’s expression—a desire to engage—that makes Blaine’s guilt evaporate. At least for a little while.
Darren works his way through the crowd, and Blaine notes that Darren’s back pocket holds a set of tour postcards and an extra Sharpie. Why that makes Blaine feel a pang in his chest, he has no idea, but he watches as Darren seems to really acknowledge everyone. And even though it’s late and Blaine knows that tour bus has a ways to travel before the next show tomorrow, he’s surprised at how relaxed Darren is, at how unhurried.
And then suddenly Darren is looking at Blaine. And Blaine just tries to focus. And smile.
“Ah . . . we met earlier,” Darren says, pausing and pointing at Blaine as if trying to recall that moment. “Dalton Boy,” he says, now reaching out a hand, which Blaine takes eagerly. “We talked about boarding school bullshit. Blaine,” he adds, after another pause.
“We did, didn’t we?” Blaine asks, because wow, he hardly remembers what he said when Darren was leaning in for that photo earlier. It seems forever ago already.
And just like that Darren is signing a tour postcard for Tina, who sputters, “I loved your show! You’re amazing!” and signing Sam’s hand while Sam says, “I’m Blaine’s best friend.” And then Blaine catches Kurt’s expression at that, his raised eyebrow—but then Darren is making eye contact with Kurt, who looks exactly as he did the day he’d met Cooper. He’s completely starstruck and doe-eyed and Blaine laughs happily when Kurt says, “I approve of the Topman jacket—but shame on you for tossing it behind you on the floor like that.”
Blaine’s laughter causes Darren to look back at him. Leaning toward Kurt but looking at Blaine, Darren asks, “Another friend of yours?”
Darren cuts off Blaine’s vigorous nodding with, “That’s fucking awesome, man. It’s like, nothing else matters but experiencing things with your friends and family. Just keep being there for each other, you know? Shit. Come here, all of you, let’s do a big fucking hug,” he says, reaching out for Blaine and the others. As Blaine is wrapped up in everyone’s arms, it’s at once the most ridiculous and most significant thing. “Seriously, thanks for coming, guys,” Darren says as they all let go—then he turns to meet the next fan’s hopeful smile.
There’s absolutely nothing flashy about that moment. But it captures, for Blaine, so much of what he imagines the life of a performer—his life, he hopes—to be.