This is a slightly more traumatic piece, however I've done it in two parts and the second part is vastly different from this one, so stay tuned to see how it all ends.
But please, reviews really mean a lot to me, so hope you can let me know what you think!
He's really not sure at what point he finally gave up. If he's being honest with himself, it was the moment he'd told Blaine how he had felt. The look in Blaine's eyes, complete and utter shock, a look that in some ways was far more painful than a look of rejection. A look like that told Kurt that, not even for a second, had Blaine considered being with Kurt. It was a look that still haunted Kurt to this day because every wish, hope and prayer for what they could potentially have was crushed in that single look. Still, he deluded himself into thinking that perhaps, maybe, things would change; that maybe, some day, Blaine would change his mind and things would be perfect. Kurt would get his wish.
Then, Rachel had kissed Blaine.
Kurt sometimes wondered if there really was a God and if he was being punished for not believing. How could this be such a cruel accident? The boy he adored, the boy he was sure would be his answer to all his loneliness and desperation in this town, would kiss [i]her.[/i] Despite their growing budding friendship, despite their evident respect for each other, Kurt would always hold a slight grudge against Rachel, because despite how similar they were, Rachel was the one thing Kurt could never be: a girl. It gave her options Kurt would never have; it gave her Finn, it gave her Noah, it had given her Jesse St. James and now, it seemed, if only for just a moment, it gave her Blaine Anderson.
It turned out it was for longer than just a moment.
Blaine was now considering going out with Rachel, no, he was questioning his sexuality: the one connection Kurt could have to Blaine that nobody else he knew could. Kurt found himself lashing out before he even realised it, his confusion, his anger, his pain all surfacing at once and it was only until he realised he'd actually hurt Blaine that his blood ran cold and his whole body froze up as he watched Blaine leave with a bitterness in his tone as he did so. Kurt just stared at the spot Blaine had been sitting, feeling a sick, twisted feeling building up in his stomach; he was slipping away, he was lashing out and he knew it wouldn't be long before Blaine was gone completely because Kurt had pushed him away. Closing his eyes, he let out a shaky breath and forced himself to hold back the threat of tears, because he knew he couldn't avoid it anymore, he knew what he had to do.
He had to give up on Blaine.
So there he stood, silent and alone in the Warbler's rehearsal room. The fire had long since died out, making the usually welcoming room feel rather cold and alien to the young boy. For a moment Kurt looked back on the room with the faintest of smiles, remembering all the times he'd spent here with Blaine, sometimes with the Warblers, sometimes alone, but he remembered he'd always been laughing, smiling. He'd always been happy. Completely naïve, perhaps, as he also remembered the doting looks he'd always throw Blaine, the almost ignorant gleam of hope in the countertenor's eyes.
But that was all gone. That gleam, that sound of laughter already a distant memory as Kurt stood there, hollow, broken, but for the first time, accepting. This was how it had to be, because living in this fairytale he'd created for himself would only prolong the pain and heartache he was going to have to face sooner or later. So, finally moving across the room, he silently made his way to one of the small, wooden side tables, his fingers lingering on the stereo and finally, after a moment's hesitation, pressed play softly. Soon, the music began to fill the room; it's soft, acoustic sound ironically soothing, as if encouraging Kurt to do this, to go through with this final farewell to his naive, hopeful self.
"Now I've heard there was a secret chord
That David played, and it pleased the Lord
But you don't really care for music, do you?
It goes like this
The fourth, the fifth
The minor fall, the major lift
The baffled king composing Hallelujah..."
"Hallelujah
Hallelujah
Hallelujah
Hallelujah..."
It been so long since Kurt had heard his voice, heard it alone that is. The soft, fragile sound to it sounded so broken, so bitterly perfect for what he was singing, for what he had to do. The room was completely still with nothing but the soft echo of his voice playing along to the music filling the empty, dark space in which the boy now stood.
"Baby I have been here before
I know this room, I've walked this floor
I used to live alone before I knew you.
I've seen your flag on the marble arch
Love is not a victory march
It's a cold and it's a broken Hallelujah
Hallelujah, Hallelujah
Hallelujah, Hallelujah"
A sad, fragile smile soon graced his face, letting the soft tears freely fall down his face, so silent as they screamed to the heavens, screaming away every wish the boy had once had the moment he had locked on those hazel eyes. Kurt could feel the threat of a sobbing fit and, likely, a spell of hiccups to stop him in his tracks, to break him down, to make him unable to finish the song. But, breathing through his nose, holding his head high, he would continue, ignoring his soaked cheeks and the quiver in his knees. He was almost done, he had almost finished his goodbye; just a little more...
"I did my best, it wasn't much
I couldn't feel, so I tried to touch
I've told the truth, I didn't come to fool you
And even though
It all went wrong
I'll stand before the Lord of Song
With nothing on my tongue but Hallelujah..."
"Hallelujah..."
And then, there was silence. For a whole minute, he did nothing as the music faded away and the room fell into a deep, chilling silence. Any strength or determination had slipped away from the boy's grasp the moment he had finished. Then, a horrified, choked sob escaped his lips, breaking the peace. Falling to his knees hard, his hands covering his mouth, the feel of the tears suddenly felt like they were burning at skin. He felt sick; he felt horrible: he'd finally awoken from his delusions. He'd said goodbye, but the moment he had, he was begging to just spend a little longer in his fantasies where there was perhaps just a chance for happiness: a chance for the perfect ending.
But there was no returning now, so Kurt just curled up against the side of the couch, crying his eyes out and feeling more alone than he had any of those times in the halls of McKinley. But perhaps, if Kurt hadn't been so distraught, so lost in his own suffering, he would have realised he wasn't as alone as he gathered; for on just the other side of the door, another boy stood, his back pressed to the wall, his hands in his usually gelled and tamed curls and a look of utter agony and realisation on his face. The realisation of how clueless he really had been and what it had cost him, what his actions had done to the one he'd sworn to keep safe.
Tonight wasn't a night for dreams to come true, it wasn't even a night that let you dream a little longer, a little bigger. No, tonight was a night of letting go and understanding, a night neither boy would be able to look back on with any sense of understanding for quite sometime. But one day, one day they would be able to face this night, knowing that it served them both well and given them the chance to live out their lives, free of the foolish hopes that would have broken them beyond any repair. One day, they would both understand.
But right now, in the middle of this cold and broken night, two young boys would cry themselves to sleep. with nothing but the faint echo of the song playing through their ears to lull them to sleep.
It's not a cry that you hear at night
It's not somebody who's seen the light
It's a cold and it's a broken...
Hallelujah