Disclaimer: I do not own Glee.
A/N: I am here because something at university really upset me today, and I need to write it out, all out, or I might do something stupid and hurt myself again. So instead I am here, writing. Slicing, tearing up my mind for all of you to see, … instead of something else.
In this moment I just needed to write this. Please forgive me for the Klaine pain instead of cuddles and fluff. I am truly sorry, but I had to write this to get rid of that dull ache in my head threatening to take me over completely. I can't risk that. It's too much.
Apart from your pieces left in me
Kurt is long gone when Blaine finally makes his way out of Kurt's New York bed. He will have to find his own way back to Lima, back to ' … that someone,' Kurt thinks bitterly on his way to work, 'whoever it is.'
Waiting for Blaine to show his face had become too much quickly, the tension and uncertainty unbearable. And Kurt is not even sure if he would have gotten any explanation out of Blaine, 'It sure didn't sound like that last night. I don't understand … but, but I think he doesn't even want to tell me what exactly happened.'
Kurt is glad he has had his job at Vogue for a good while now, he is not sure he would otherwise have made it to work today at all. As it is he finds himself, suddenly, in the elevator of the building without any recollection of how he got here, a cup of coffee in his hand. 'When did I get coffee?'
He makes it through the first three hours until lunch break surprisingly fine, well, composed at least. Inside so much is raging, thoughts fogged into oblivion with doubts and fears all thankfully pushed aside over and over by the sound of the phone ringing almost non-stop, '… a day like any other, at least in this way.'
After staring at his salad for a good fifteen minutes, without taking a single bite, Kurt drags himself out of his chair. He can feel his steps growing heavy all too quickly. His whole body is stiff and uncoordinated in a way it has not once been since he had started practicing dance moves, first in his cellar bedroom with Tina and Brittany, then in Glee club's booty camp. 'Glee club …, Blaine.'
And as Kurt closes the bathroom door behind himself, turns the lock, he, for a split-second, feels something like relief at not having to hold back any more, at least for these brief, precious moments, …, 'Alone, finally.'
He turns to the mirror, leans onto the sink, and finds his own eyes in the looking glass.
Kurt wishes for nothing more than them being Blaine's eyes looking back at him with love, instead of their expression of pain, fear and guilt, still burned into Kurt's mind from last night. It is all he can see now, thinking of Blaine. All happiness washed away, his memories of anything good, happy, true, thorougly washed out.
Kurt's own words, meant for Blaine alone, had slipped out when Finn had surprised him this morning.
"I can't believe I said that, to Finn. If he tells dad …," Kurt whispers to himself, and a second later all the emotions pressed away while Blaine, Finn and Rachel had been around, break free in full force, 'Alone.'
Before Kurt even has a chance to realize what is happening he is on the floor, on his hands and knees, ringing for air.
Breathing only gets harder as tears hot tear at him from the inside, burn his skin where they keep relentlessly washing over his skin.
He does not know how long he is here on the cold floor, half kneeling, face turning blotchy and purple from letting go and holding in, and just, " … everything, too, too … muhch."
There are many half sentences sobbed out as Kurt half lying now moves one hand up to his dress shirt, tears away the tie, in an attempt to keep breathing.
The loosened tie does … nothing – nothing to ease any of the pain Kurt feels tearing him apart so thoroughly. He has no choice but to feel it all over, … all under his skin.
The desperately choked breaths turn into howls painfully suppressed into whimpers. 'This isn't happening, it's not, it's not. He didn't do that. He wouldn't.' "You wouldn't do that, you wouldn't just. You promised we would make it work. You … you. I love you so much. Why would you …? Doesn't that mean anything to you? Don't I mean anything to you anymore."
All else comes out in choked wet sobs, holding nothing back now.
Kurt, crawling at one point into the corner, half covered by the sink, curls in on himself right here, only crying harder until he is too exhausted to even so much as press another tear out of his eyes.
Minutes pass as Kurt just stares at the opposite blank white wall, head empty, as all thoughts burning still rush through his veins.
Kurt, minutes later, or for all he knows hours, days or years later - the first of his own thoughts registering with him again, his mind a little less numb with pain - wonders if that is what dying might actually feel like '… if there is a place we go to after … after dissolving completely into pain and fear and … when there is no love left.'
People say Everybody dies alone, and Kurt cannot help but think it must feel like …, '… like this.'
