He's brought them with to New York- I mean, how could he not? They were his safe zone. His soother. His backbone for so long. And despite his increasing happiness, joy, aspirations and overall fluttering pride he was feeling, he needed them. He needed the little white pills that he's fidgeted with for so long.
Kurt remembers when he first found them- a little orange container with stark white tablets stashed away in his mother's dresser drawer under a pile of empty ones. He was fourteen, and they were most likely left after his mother's battle with cancer had come to an abrupt stop. At the time, Kurt was suffering. He was bullied constantly, his father was distant, his mother was dead and he was just so alone. He had researched ways to do it- to end it all. Quickly and without pain. So he snatched the bottle of pills and vowed to do it the next night.
But he didn't. He fidgeted with the little white pills within his palm, tears streaming down his face. He couldn't bring himself to do it.
From the years on after, Kurt Hummel had seriously contemplated suicide forty eight times leading up to his junior year of high school. Some days he would take the pills in his hands and toy with them, it was oddly soothing. Exhilarating. Knowing that he had control. He had the ability to decide his fate and he reveled in it.
Only once did he do it at a risky time, and he paid the consequences. The night his dad had walked in on Finn saying crude words in the Hummel, Kurt was so emotionally unstable he quickly fumbled in his drawer and pulled out a single pill. He fidgeted with it for a little, before pressing it to his lips, the farthest he has ever gotten to ending it all, when his dad walked in. He was confused and a bit frustrated at first, but Kurt told all and threw the pills in the trash. Even though Kurt fished them out later that night, Kurt felt like he grew a stronger relationship with his dad. He felt loved.
The pills were set aside when he met one Blaine Anderson, a cute dapper boy who he was head over heels in love with. He didn't feel he needed the pills as much-a companion filled the void in his heart. It made him feel loved and important and useful.
The little white pills were no longer a secret two weeks into a romantic relationship with Blaine, though. Kurt was busy cramming for Dalton finals and Blaine was at loss for a pencil and Kurt waved his hand and said "Oh, just get one out of the second drawer on the left." And the second he said that Kurt paled and felt nauseated. There was no way Blaine wasn't going to notice them, he barely made an effort to cover them considering he was spending all his time with Blaine, the Warblers and studying rather than decking out his dorm room.
They cried and talked that night, and fell asleep wrapped in each other's arms with the promise that Kurt wouldn't leave Blaine like that.
The pills remained untouched for nearly a year after that, until the Sebastian scandal, that is. The pain and agony Kurt felt when he thought Blaine was moving on for bigger and better made him feel that familiar ache of need and desperation for his old friends.
But he couldn't. He couldn't leave Blaine here alone and let Sebastian have his wicked way with his teenage dream. So he tossed the pills aside.
So now the pills have made a full circle all the way to New York in Kurt's dresser drawer. They are right there, nearly a foot away, stowed away by countless scarves. They felt like a better friend than Blaine who was lying on his side, his back facing Kurt. Kurt knew Blaine was still crying, as was he. But Blaine cheated on him and the thought of it made Kurt want to throw up and die. Though he didn't know specifics, Kurt knew that he wasn't the last person to lie in bed with Blaine. Cuddle with Blaine. Make love to Blaine. Hear him moan and see his muscles tense and taught and see him come. Kurt let out another choked sob, and the dull familiar ache settled in his stomach. So Kurt sat up gently and pulled out the pills. He poured the whole container out onto his palm, careful not to cause any commotion.
It seemed so easy; he could just fall asleep and never wake up. Never have to feel any more hurt or pain or deal with the heavy load of life. He could just not be, and Blaine would wake up to a lifeless Kurt and be able to move on and live life with someone who could be attentive to him at all times. Cook him dinner, answer his phone calls, to always love him and remind him how perfect he is. Because Blaine is perfect, no matter how angry Kurt was at him right now, and that just made him feel even worse.
He rolled a single pill between his two fingers, inspecting every curve and indent of it.
Though, he heard Blaine begin to stir.
"Blaine, go to sleep. And don't you dare turn around."
Those could have been the last words that Kurt ever spoke to Blaine.
But Kurt was stronger than this. He could prosper through a little longer; he reminded himself as he popped the cover back on and hid the container back under the pile of scarves. Maybe all I need is time.
Blaine left that morning without a word shared between them. Not a word shared between them for months.
Until one day, Kurt was caught in the middle of chugging down the pills by Rachel. The phantom touches and smells of Blaine where too overwhelming, work was too stressful; he missed home and was just so completely done. She screamed and Kurt was so startled he swallowed a few as he gasped. Rachel rushed him to the emergency room immediately, where Kurt's stomach was pumped and he woke up feeling completely drained and exhausted.
If he thought about it hard enough, he thought he could smell Blaine's cologne but he wouldn't necessarily rely on his senses right now. He was high on anesthesia and whatever drugs he was given and couldn't see straight.
"Kurt?" He could hear Rachel's strangled voice say.
"R-Rachel, I need Blaine. I need him so much." Kurt began to cry out, tears stinging his eyes and clogging his nose.
"Kurt-.." Rachel began to say, but was shushed by another. Kurt didn't dare open his eyes to see.
Seconds later, he felt warm, calloused hands wrap around his wrist. They traced the veins there, until he felt the press of soft lips accompanied by wet, dripping tears against the sensitive skin.
"I'm here, Kurt. I'm here."
Blaine.