A/N: Okay, so I'm really not sure how happy I am with the way this turned out but I've been working on it for so long that I just had to get it out there. I'm not used to writing angst but this idea wouldn't leave me alone. I hope it's not too horrible.
Please review, I'd really like to know what you think. :)
Disclaimer: Yeah, I don't own the characters and the song is "Asleep" by The Smiths.
Warnings: Uh...self-harm, triggers, etc.
-Aida x
Sing me to sleep,
Sing me to sleep,
I don't want to wake up
On my own anymore.
It started before he even realised the truth about himself, before he really understood why. It seemed as though everyone else was ahead of him, that they all knew something he didn't – something about him.
To say that Kurt Hummel was teased would be an enormous understatement. 'Bullied' was perhaps a better term. He didn't even know why until he turned 10 and realised that none of the other boys liked to dress up as princesses, have tea parties or watch Disney movies (at least, not as often as he did). When he turned 13 and all the boys started flirting with the girls, he realised that maybe, just maybe it wasn't really normal to want to hold hands with a guy instead. It was hard, as a child, to deal with that sort of thing. He, of course, was a very creative child and he came up with his own way of dealing with the pain…until his mother caught him. So, naturally, it got worse once she passed away.
It wasn't until he was 16, though, when the bullying reached its peak, that the cutting really began. Kurt knew it was a bad habit, but it just felt so much better. Like all of his pent up aggression and sorrow could be let out with the small drops of blood. Of course, they were only small scratches and cuts along his thighs or hips, but if anyone found out he would definitely be forced to stop. And that's why the cuts were in places that were easily concealed.
After he met Blaine, the cutting slowed down to less and less frequent. But after 'the Karofsky incident', he found it a lot harder to resist. To be honest, the fact that his love for Blaine was unrequited only made the urge worse. And so, slowly but surely, it became something that he did almost every day.
There was something so exhilarating, so freeing about taking a pair of scissors and just letting the blade pierce his flesh. Then he'd drag it along, watching, fascinated, as a line of red followed everywhere he went. He could probably draw pictures and it would look like paint – a piece of artwork on his skin. It hurt of course – it hurt like hell – but that was part of the thrill of it.
He stopped for a while, though, when he transferred to Dalton. It was his belief that this school would be a new beginning for him and he wanted to start fresh. But he hadn't expected the all-boys school to be so constricting. He felt like he couldn't breathe in that place. There was no room for self-expression, for being an individual – Dalton Academy was no place for a person with dreams as big as his. And it was this, on top of all the other wrongs in his life, that prompted him to finally do it. Because he just couldn't fight it anymore.
"Kurt?"
Blaine knocked gently on the bathroom door. They'd been watching Rent when his friend had excused himself for a toilet break. It had been 20 minutes and Kurt still hadn't come back. To say that Blaine had started worrying would be an enormous understatement.
"Kurt, are you okay?"
No answer.
"Can – can I come in?"
Silence.
Blaine paused for a moment, arm hovering in the air over the door handle while he contemplated whether or not he should go inside. Then, with a final nod of his head, he gently turned the handle and pushed the door open slightly.
"Kurt?"
You know, in movies, how there are those awfully thrilling, suspense-filled moments with the terrifying music in the background? And everyone knowsthat something bad is about to happen, but it's still horrible when it does? This was one of those moments. Except this time…Blaine was a part of the movie, instead of watching safely from the audience and he was certainly not prepared for the sight that met his eyes.
Now when he thinks back on it, perhaps a bigger reaction was required. But overriding every other emotion in his being was shock. His eyes widened in both fear and surprise and he simply froze, staring uncomprehendingly at the scene in front of him.
Kurt looked pretty much exactly the same as he always did – light brown, perfectly coiffed hair and stunning blue-green-grey eyes (though they were closed right now, Blaine had the colour memorised). He was on the floor, leaning against the wall with his head lolling to the side, resting almost peacefully on his shoulder. He could have been asleep. (Blaine always thought he looked exceptionally beautiful while he slept, though if anyone asked, he would deny any allegations of watching Kurt sleep – the amount of 'Edward Cullen' comments that would be thrown at him would simply be too much for Blaine Anderson to handle.) The silver locket around his neck glinted familiarly in the harsh bathroom light. It was a perfectly innocent position that he was lying in. That is, of course, if you could get past the long gashes along his wrists and the blood that poured from them, soaking his clothes and pooling on the floor around him.
Blaine let out a strange noise, one that rose from the back of his throat and forced its way through his lips. He immediately gravitated towards his best friend, blinking rapidly to keep the tears at bay, at least until he knew that Kurt had some help.
"Mr. Hummel!" He shouted, voice cracking slightly at the end.
A loud booming voice answered him from downstairs. "Yeah? You boys need something?"
A broken voice answered him. "Please come."
Burt paused for a moment, a frown forming on his face. He immediately began walking up the stairs, calling out on his way. "What's wrong?"
A soft sob and repeated whispering answered him. "Why? Why? Why?"
Burt's eyes widened. There was definitely something wrong. He picked up his pace.
Blaine knelt at the side of his friend, pushing back tears. He glanced to the side unable to look at his perfect face anymore and noticed the gleaming metal knife that lay at his side. He stared at it in disgust. This…this stupid piece of metal had hurt the boy he cared for most. And if it took his life, then this world would become a much duller, crueller place without Kurt's presence to light it up. Not to mention that Blaine would lose all faith in humanity, because it was simply not fair that something so simple could take something so beautiful, so whole, so precious from this Earth.
He gritted his teeth together as his eyes burned with the familiar sensation of needing to cry. He grabbed the knife in rage and threw it at the opposite wall, collapsing at the side of his friend and just falling apart.
Burt entered the bathroom with a worried look on his face and froze at the scene in front of him. Kurt was sitting limply against the bathroom wall, blood soaking his clothes and pooling slowly around him as Blaine knelt at his side, crying and gasping desperately.
"Please, Kurt, please. Don't leave me."
Burt felt his eyes sting straight away and his heart constricted painfully. The only thing that could ever make him cry was seeing his son in pain – but this…this was worse than anything he'd ever seen before. He stumbled forward clumsily and fell to his son's side, immediately grabbing his soft hand and holding it in his larger, warmer one. Blaine looked up, startled (clearly, he hadn't noticed him entering the bathroom) and Burt's heart broke once again at the lost look on his face.
"We-" his voice cracked and he cleared his throat before continuing, "We need to get him some help. I don't have my phone. Call 911."
Burt was a little surprised at how quickly Blaine managed to compose himself. One moment he was lying broken on the floor, sobs wracking his chest, and the next he was calmly telling Burt what to do.
Burt opened his mouth to complain – he couldn't leave the boy here, for God's sake! He was only a few years older than Kurt! – but Blaine shook his head, silver tear tracks slowly drying on his face. "I'll be fine. I know my first aid so it's better if I stay. We're wasting time, just do it."
Burt simply nodded his head and pulled his phone out, squeezing Kurt's hand tightly before letting go and dialling 911. As he spoke, Blaine pulled his shirt over his head and ripped it into strips with his teeth. He wrapped a few strips around each of Kurt's wrists, desperately trying to stem the flow of blood, and then sat and waited, staring at Burt anxiously.
As soon as he hung up, he said, "They'll be here in a few minutes."
Blaine jerked his head slightly in a gesture that Burt assumed was a nod and looked back down at Kurt.
"Why?" Blaine whispered, "Why, Mr Hummel?"
Burt shook his head, tears threatening to spill down his cheeks as he grabbed his son's hand again. "I don't know, Blaine."
The ambulance arrived not long after and all three of them went to the hospital. Kurt was immediately rushed who-knows-where and Blaine and Burt paced anxiously as they awaited any news on Kurt's stability.
After about 15 minutes, Finn and Carole arrived. Burt had called them when they were in the ambulance and they had left Carole's mother's house (they had decided to visit her this weekend) straight away, heading for the hospital.
When they walked in, Burt turned to look at them and Carole immediately flew towards him, wrapping her arms around his body in a tight hug. She already had tears streaming down her face. Finn was right behind her, a terrified, grief-stricken look on his face. He walked straight up to Blaine and swept him up into a bone-crushing hug.
"Oh Cheesus, man...thank you so much for being there...I don't know what would have happened if...oh my god..."
Blaine gripped him tightly, forcing his tears back down. "Finn," he swallowed, "We still don't know anything, though."
Finn broke away and collapsed into the chair Blaine had been told to sit in by the nurse (though he hadn't sat down at all). He handed him a shirt.
"Burt told me you were running around here shirtless,"
Blaine took it gratefully – the looks he was getting from the female nurses were starting to freak him out. "Thank you,"
"It's no problem. And I know we don't know anything yet." He ran his hands over his face tiredly, "But you were still there. I wasn't. I should have been. I'm his brother, for God's sake."
"Finn, you were visiting your grandmother. You couldn't have known he would try to - " his voice broke off and he looked away so that Finn wouldn't see the tears forming in his eyes.
He took a deep breath, pushed the tears away and looked back at Kurt's step-brother. "The point is, it's not your fault, okay? If anything, it's mine. I should…I should have checked on him earlier. No one takes 20 minutes in the bathroom, not even Kurt."
Blaine collapsed, frustrated, into the cushiony chair beside Finn and ran an agitated hand through his hair. He'd done this so many times in the past half hour that his hair was almost completely rid of its gel casing (Kurt had often joked that it was like a helmet) and this one movement honestly did nothing to improve the state of his hair.
"Dude..." Finn placed a comforting hand on his shoulder, "It's not your fault, either. I mean…Kurt has been known to take 20 minutes in the bathroom. He stops and checks his hair and everything, as well. You couldn't have known."
Blaine buried his face in his hands. "I'm sorry," he whispered.
Finn squeezed his shoulder. "What are you saying sorry for, silly?"
"I'm sorry because I'm a mess and none of you need this right now. I'm not even a part of this family; I can't imagine how hard it must be for the three of you. I'm so used to being the strong one. I figured if something like this ever happened (God forbid), then I'd be the calm one comforting everyone, and I'm trying, I swear, but..." he looked up at Finn, "It's Kurt." He finished.
They knew no further explanation was required.
A little way away, Burt was coming undone. He realised that the children were preoccupied with comforting each other, so he finally let himself feel all of the emotion he'd held back in front of Blaine. He couldn't break down in front of Blaine or Finn. He had to be strong for them. But wrapped in Carole's arms, it was too hard to stop the tears from falling.
He clutched desperately to her, harsh sobs escaping his lips. Carole held him tighter, crying with him.
"It'll be okay..." she whispered through her own tears, "He's strong. He'll be fine."
"But why? Why would he do this to himself? Where did I go wrong? This is all my fault, Carole. All. My. Fault."
She pressed a soft kiss to his shoulder. "Honey, this is not your fault at all. No one saw this coming and it was no one's fault. Do you hear me?"
When she received no answer, she pulled away slightly and held his face in her hands. "Do you hear me?" she repeated.
Burt stared at her – the beautiful green colour of her eyes, the soft brown hair that fell just to her shoulders, the tears that poured silently down her cheeks – and nodded mutely. She once again enveloped him in a tight hug and he thought how lucky he was to have found another woman he loved so much.
Kurt was lying in a blood-soaked heap on the floor, streaks of red running all over his porcelain skin. He was staring at the knife that lay at his side.
"Blaine," he began, and his voice was soft, dejected, "I really…really needed you. This is your fault, you know? You could have stopped it. And god, Blaine, it hurt…so, so, much…" he let out a small whimper of pain, choking back tears.
"K-Kurt, I…I didn't know." He responded, tears forcing themselves out his eyes, the effort of attempting to push them back causing him to choke on his words.
It seemed as though Kurt hadn't heard him, though. "And I just kept saying to myself, 'oh, no, Blaine will come and stop it. He'll come soon. He cares. Blaine will make the pain stop.'"
Then he looked up at the boy in front of him, fixing him with a sad, piercing look, his glassy eyes boring right into Blaine's. "But you never came."
Blaine's heart felt like it had been ripped from his chest.
"You let me down, Blaine."
Blaine shook his head, tears cascading down his cheeks. "I tried to help you. But I think I was too late, Kurt! I'm sorry! I'm so so sorry!"
He gripped his head in his hands, clawing at his own face and sobbed loudly. "I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry!"
Suddenly, Kurt's nostrils flared and he glared angrily at Blaine.
"Oh, 'sorry', are you? YOU SHOULD BE. THIS IS YOUR FAULT. I DID THIS BECAUSE OF YOU."
Kurt stood, coming towards Blaine, who tried to back away but found that he couldn't move. Kurt raised his hands, wrists facing the boy in front of him.
"See this, Blaine? You made me do this."
"K-Kurt! Kurt! Please!"
But Kurt continued towards Blaine, his arms reaching out, blood-stained hands wrapping around Blaine's wrists.
"ALL YOUR FAULT-"
Blaine trembled.
"COULD HAVE STOPPED IT-"
Tears spilt from his eyes.
"TERRIBLE FRIEND-"
He shook his head vigorously.
"GOING TO DIE BECAUSE OF YOU-"
No, no, no, no, NOOOOOOOOOOOO.
Blaine awoke with a start, breathing heavy and forehead cool and damp with a thin sheen of sweat.
"Holy shit," he whispered.
Blinking rapidly, he willed the tears to disappear from his eyes. He saw that Finn was leaning down over him, a cup of take-away coffee in one hand, the other on Blaine's shoulder.
"Hey, buddy, you fell asleep. You were screaming and shouting so I woke you up. Hope you don't mind. Here, I got you a coffee."
Finn let go of his shoulder and handed the shaken boy the steaming beverage. Blaine took it gratefully.
"Thanks,"
Finn waved his hand nonchalantly. "No problem."
He peered at Blaine. "You want to tell me what that dream was about? I haven't tried sleeping yet but I assume it'll be pretty bad when I do."
Blaine sighed, leaning his head back against the wall and closing his eyes. But as soon as he did, that image of Kurt blood-stained and sad, reaching towards him, blaming him, flashed on the backs of his eyelids and he winced, snapping them open again.
He shook his head and answered Finn.
"He…he was telling me that it was my fault. That…I could have stopped it and that the reason he did it in the first place was because of me….it probably was. I'm SO. FUCKING. STUPID."
He brought his head forward and let it fall back again, hitting it against the wall with a loud thud and a groan.
Finn immediately reached towards him and gripped his shoulder. "Hey, hey, hey, hey! It's not your fault, okay? And we don't even have any news on how he's going anyway, so…"
At that moment, a nurse walked briskly down the hall and all four concerned people jumped up, staring at the woman expectantly, silent in their begging for good news.
Burt and Carole stood side by side, holding hands and Finn stood just behind Blaine, his hands on the shorter boy's shoulders.
"Mr. Hummel?" she asked.
Burt nodded his head, stepping forward but keeping a firm hold on Carole's hand.
She had an apologetic look on her face and she spoke in a soft voice as she said, "I'm sorry, I haven't got much news on him. All I can say is that he's lost a lot of blood and right now, the doctors are just trying to get him stable."
They all nodded, the two youngest retreating into themselves slightly.
"However, there is something else."
They all looked at her in confusion as she reached into her pocket and pulled out two folded sheets of paper.
"These were found in your son's pocket. One is addressed to 'dad' and I'm assuming one of you is also Blaine…?"
Finn's grip on Blaine's shoulders tightened as Carole simultaneously tightened her hold on Burt's hand.
Burt held out one hand and she handed one of the letters to him. Everyone looked at Blaine expectantly, who was staring in fear at the letter in the nurse's hand.
He shook his head frantically, tears pooling in his eyes. "I can't-" his voice broke off, "I'm sorry," he turned, walking briskly towards the bathroom without looking back.
The nurse gave the family an apologetic look. "I'm so sorry."
Finn shook his head, his eyes also full of tears and held out his hand for the letter. The nurse hesitated slightly then gave it to him before nodding slightly and walking back the way she came.
Finn stared at the letter for a moment before putting it in his pocket. Even if it was from Kurt, it was addressed to someone else…he just couldn't read it.
As a family, the three sat down next to each other as Burt carefully opened his letter.
Dad –
I'm sorry. I'm so so sorry. I know this is going to be really hard on you, but I just…I couldn't…live anymore. The world will be a better place without me.
Anyway, what you need to know is that this isn't your fault at all. AT ALL. Please, please, please, don't blame yourself. I love you so so much, and I know you love me too. That love is the only thing that got me this far in life. But let's face it…everything went downhill when mum died. Blaine…well, he made my life a lot better and to be honest I almost didn't do it when I realised that there were people outside of my family and the glee club who could care about me. But this is something that couldn't have been stopped. I just don't want to live anymore.
You have no idea…the feeling of sadness that I lived with every day. It wasn't even explainable, sometimes it was for absolutely no reason, but I just felt so upset. And the fact that I had a pretty good life in comparison to some other people, made me hate myself even more. Because I should have been grateful, right?
I'm really sorry, dad. I love you. And tell Finn and Carole that they meant…SO much to me. I really loved having them as part of the family.
Please don't be too upset about this, dad. If there's such a thing as "afterlife", I'll see mum, after all. I love you so much. Never forget that.
Love always,
Your Kurt.
Burt lowered his head as Carole hugged him, Finn's hand on his arm the only anchor keeping him from losing it completely.
They all pretended not to notice when they saw a tear fall onto the paper.
Don't feel bad for me,
I want you to know
Deep in the cell of my heart,
I really want to go
Blaine stepped through the hospital doors, taking a deep breath as he tilted his head back towards the sky. It was chilly outside, the cool autumn winds drying the glistening tear tracks on his cheeks and painting a red flush along his cheekbones. He crossed his arms over his chest, head falling to stare at the ground as he shuffled his feet.
What was going to happen to Kurt? What if he didn't make it through? What would happen to his family? What would happen to him?
He shakily sat down, back leaning against the wall of the gigantic building. He bent his knees and brought his legs towards his chest, wrapping his arms tightly around them. Leaning his forehead against his knees, he clenched his eyes shut, a harsh sob escaping his lips.
Suddenly, there was a warm hand on his shoulder. Startled, he looked up.
Nick smiled sadly at him.
"Hey, buddy," he whispered. "Finn called. I take it you're not doing so well."
Blaine immediately wiped away his tears and cleared his throat.
"I'm uh – no, I'm fine. I'm handling it."
Behind Nick, Jeff let out a little noise of disbelief. "Blaine, by now you should know there's no use trying to hide your feelings around us."
Taking a closer look at Jeff, it was obvious by the redness of his eyes that he'd been crying, too. He was clutching Nick's hand tightly and they both watched him with careful eyes.
He lowered his gaze guiltily. "You're right. I'm sorry.
Jeff held out his other hand to Blaine. "There's no need to apologise." He said softly.
Blaine took the offered hand and stood up, giving Jeff a small, grateful smile.
"How's Kurt doing?" Nick asked gingerly.
Blaine's gaze once again fell towards the floor. "We're not sure…he…he left letters." He looked up to meet Nick and Jeff's shocked stares. "One was for his dad and one was…for me….I couldn't…I couldn't take it."
Nick let out a sympathetic noise. "Oh, Blaine,"
At once, Blaine was being sandwiched between his two best friends in a tight three-man hug.
Blaine let out a shaky, tear-filled laugh. "I wish you didn't need to be, but I'm glad you guys are here. I'm going a little crazy."
Nick smiled sadly and clutched Blaine's shoulder as Jeff curled into his side.
Santana, Rachel, Puck and Brittany arrived about ten minutes later. Rachel's eyes were red-rimmed and watery as she immediately threw herself into Finn's arms, hugging him as tightly as possible. Santana was in utter hysterics, tears streaming down her face as she clung to Blaine, sobbing loudly into his shoulder. Brittany stood to the side, a frown creasing her usually cheerful face as Jeff tried to explain to her what was going on. Puck went straight up to Burt and pulled him into a one-armed hug. He said something and then turned to Carole, repeating the gesture.
Tina, Mike, Quinn, Artie and Mercedes arrived not long after, and once the greeting hugs and tears had gone by, all ten glee club members, plus Nick and Jeff, sat in a circle on the floor, each clutching a cup of take-away coffee.
Blaine was leaning with his back against the wall, Santana leaning her head on his shoulder on his right side. Brittany had her arm around the Latina girl and on Blaine's left, Nick was sitting with Jeff in his lap, arms wrapped around the blonde boy. Then it was Finn and Rachel, Tina and Mike, Quinn, Mercedes and finally Artie sitting almost opposite them.
They sat in silence, the occasional sob or sniff interrupting the otherwise unbroken quiet. When a nurse walked down the hallway, they heard immediately the click-clack of her shoes and every head turned her way.
She stopped. "Hummel?" she called out.
Burt, Carole and the teenagers all stood up at once.
Kurt let out a tinkling laugh, his free hand coming up to cover his mouth delicately. Blaine laughed along with him, a loving smile curling his lips as his eyes roamed over the face opposite him. The clear, porcelain-like skin, the blue-grey-green eyes, the luscious pink lips…
"Blaine, seriously," Kurt said through his laughter, his hand coming down from his mouth and lying on top of Blaine's on the table, "I don't think you understand how much I was laughing. Just…the look on Rachel's face!" he broke into yet another fit of giggles.
Blaine grinned and turned his hand on the table so that his palm faced upwards and intertwined his fingers with Kurt's. "I can imagine," he responded.
Kurt's cheeks flushed and he looked down at their linked hands. He was biting his bottom lip but unable to hide the shy smile on his face as Blaine brought their joined hands to his mouth and pressed a kiss to the back of Kurt's hand.
Blaine let out a sigh and turned away from the window. He didn't know why he kept doing this to himself – surely he must be a masochist because these fantasies he kept having were torturous. He stood in front of the mirror, tightening his tie a little and brushing off his suit. He stopped and stared.
On the surface, he looked the same as he did last month – the gelled black hair, the same hazel-coloured eyes…but it was obvious that he wasn't the same person. His eyes were duller and there were constant frown lines around the corners of his mouth and between his eyebrows.
He sighed and turned away from the mirror. His hand immediately went to his pocket, fingers closing mournfully around the necklace. He pulled it out with careful fingers and stared at it. The silver chain glinted in the sunlight streaming through the window. The simple locket would seem harmless to the ordinary eye, but it made Blaine's heart clench painfully when he looked at it. With trembling fingers, he opened the locket. On one side, the word 'courage' was engraved in neat, slanted script and on the other, there was a picture of the two of them – him and…Kurt.
He clenched his eyes shut and closed the locket, his fist clasping around it tightly.
There was a sharp knock on his door and he jumped slightly, opening his eyes. He blinked rapidly to keep the tears away and with one last look in the mirror, he took a deep breath and answered.
"Yeah?"
"Blaine?"
The door clicked open and Santana peered around it. Seeing him, she opened the door wider, revealing Brittany, Nick and Jeff standing slightly behind her.
"Hey, you," Nick said softly as they entered his room. "We let ourselves in, like you said to,"
Blaine nodded slightly, his body tense. "Is it time to go?"
Jeff threw himself at Blaine all of a sudden, his arms wrapped impossibly tight around his body. Nick came over and hugged them both together. Blaine felt a lump in his throat as his best friends embraced him.
"I take it that's a yes?" he choked out.
"Yeah," Brittany breathed, looking down at her pretty black shoes. When she looked up again, her eyes were shining with unshed tears, but she had managed to control the urge to let them fall.
Santana moved an arm around her waist and Brittany let her head drop down onto the girl's shoulder. She extended her hand and Blaine took it, letting himself get pulled into a one-armed hug. She pressed a kiss to the top of his head.
"God, Blaine," she whispered, "I just…I love you, okay? Just…remember that. Ever since…it happened I've been worrying about the fact that you might not know that. I know I don't really say it enough…in general, not just when it comes to you."
He pulled away slightly and stared into her chocolate coloured eyes. Her dark hair fell in loose curls around her shoulders and over her forehead, so he used one hand to push the hair gently off her face. She gave him a sad smile.
"I love you, Blainers," she murmured.
He smiled slightly, but it looked a little strained. "I love you, too, San,"
Then suddenly he found himself locked in Brittany's embrace, her arms curled around his waist from behind. She buried her face in his shoulder and sniffled a little.
"Don't forget that Brittany and Lord Tubbington love you, as well."
He let out a small laugh as Santana's lips curled up slightly at the corners. "I love you both, too."
"Sorry guys, we really need to leave, or we're going to be late," Nick announced quietly.
Blaine let out a sigh. Wrapped in his friends' warm embraces and their words of love, he'd almost – almost – forgotten the truth about this gathering.
"Yeah," he said softly, "Yeah, let's go."
Clutching Santana's hand tightly, he silently made his way out of the room, his best friends following just behind him like a comforting barrier.
Blaine's eyes squeezed shut as tightly as they could. God, he couldn't…he couldn't look at this. Biting his bottom lip to stop any sobs from escaping, he slowly opened his eyes. And there, there it was again.
The grave.
He shook his head a little, tears positively burning his eyes as they tried to escape. He hadn't let himself cry during the actual ceremony and he refused to let himself cry now, when people could still see him.
The ceremony itself hadn't been very formal and the religious aspect had been left out (they all knew that Kurt would have wanted it that way), but Blaine had almost walked away from the entire thing. It was hard. Even harder than Blaine had anticipated. But Santana had stood by his side, tears running silently down her face as she clutched his hand tighter and tighter with each word spoken. Burt had asked Blaine to say a speech, but the boy had gently declined, apologising profusely but stating that there was no way he'd be able to do something like that.
So instead he and Kurt's closest friends (Santana, Rachel and Jeff) stood apart from the family, just a little off to the side, but still closer than the rest of the people, listening as Burt spoke about raising Kurt and Finn as he talked about what an "awesome" brother he'd been to him. Finn, Burt and Carole were right at the graveside, watching in silent grief as the coffin was lowered into the ground. Blaine was pretty sure that was the only time he had ever seen both Finn and Burt cry.
As everyone began to leave, Rachel had gravitated, on instinct, towards her boyfriend, sobbing into Finn's chest as he cried into her soft hair. Jeff didn't hesitate to take off and collapse into his boyfriend's arms and Santana gave Blaine a fierce hug before Brittany ran up to them and started crying hysterically into her shoulder. Blaine watched with tired eyes as the group started to move away from the graveside, and instead made his way in the opposite direction.
Standing there, looking at the headstone, was almost too much to take. But Blaine could feel eyes burning holes into his back and even though he wasn't sure who was watching him, he wouldn't allow himself to cry in front of them.
A hand settled on his shoulder and he started, spinning around in terror. Burt immediately pulled his hand back.
"Sorry, kiddo, didn't mean to frighten you."
"N-no, it's alright." Blaine stuttered, turning to look once again at the engraved white marble.
Burt let out a sigh, coming to stand next to Blaine. He put his hands in his pockets and lowered his head in remorse.
"I just…I just wanted to thank you for everything you did for Kurt."
Blaine looked up in shock, his eyes wide with surprise.
"I never really said it to you before and this whole thing has made me realise that we gotta say the things we need to now because you never know when it'll be too late. I don't think Kurt would've come as far as he did without you and that's really a failure on my part. So…thank you."
"Burt, no, oh god, no!" Blaine protested, "You're not- you're not a failure as a father, you're-" Blaine let out a strangled noise, "I can't even count the times I've wished I was your son instead of my dad's. I mean…look around…do you see either of my parents here?" he grimaced, "You know where they are? On holiday in Florida. When I came home after…we got the news…they told me they just knew I'd be insufferable to live with until I 'got over it' and then took off."
"They- they didn't…" Burt sounded amazed.
Blaine laughed bitterly. "I wish I was. They don't realise that I'm never going to 'get over it'." He kicked the dirt a little and looked down at the grave again. His voice was softer, gentler when he spoke again. "I don't really know what I'm going to do without him."
Burt's arm wrapped tightly around his shoulders and Blaine squeezed his eyes shut again, a lump forming immediately in his throat.
"Thank you," Blaine said softly, "For everything."
Burt's arm tightened around the young boy. "You call me if you ever need anything, alright."
Blaine nodded slightly, knowing, deep down, that he probably never would. He'd feel too invasive. But he appreciated the gesture, the showing of care made his heart ache.
Burt cleared his throat a little and moved his arm, using it to pull a piece of paper from the inside of his suit jacket.
"I…I know you didn't want to read it back in the hospital…but Finn asked me to give this to you. He told me to make sure I let you know he hasn't read it, but that he's absolutely positive that you should. Whenever you're ready, of course."
"Y-yeah, okay." Blaine took the letter with shaking hands, clutching it to his chest. His head dropped again, eyes trained on the floor as the tears he'd been supressing forced their way out of his eyes. He bit his lip in anguish, face scrunched up in pain as that dull throbbing in his chest increased rapidly and tore through his body.
"I'm sorry, I have to go," he excused himself softly, barely getting the words out before he turned on his heel and ran away from the graveside, away from the cemetery and back to his home. He completely disregarded the shouts of his name (most likely from Santana, Nick or Jeff) and concentrated solely on getting himself to his room and most importantly, in his bed, asleep.
Throwing the front door open and slamming it shut behind him, he raced up the stairs to his room, barely able to breathe due to his sobbing and threw himself down on his bed. The letter fluttered from his hand to the bedroom floor as he buried his face in his pillow. He gripped the sheets beneath his hands as a sob tore through his body, fingers curling, helpless and desperate, just to have something to hold on to.
He couldn't breathe; gasping as he tried to repress the tears pouring mercilessly from his eyes. Turning onto his back, he gulped in a large breath of air. Clenching his teeth tightly, he curled his hands into tight fists, nails biting painfully into his palms. It hurt, yeah, but at least it was distracting. He leaned over the side of the bed and picked up the letter. Staring at Kurt's writing on the front, the neat, slanted script that read Blaine with a little heart drawn on the side, only made him think about how much he missed the boy. He missed the way Kurt laughed, that little smile of his, where he didn't show any of his teeth, the way he hugged Blaine, tightly as if he thought he would disappear at any moment, the sound of his voice, not only when he sang, but even when he spoke, his eyes and the way they twinkled when he was happy, the way he would hold Blaine's hand, their fingers slotting perfectly together…
That night, Blaine fell asleep with his cheek pressed against his tear-drenched pillow, his hand curled possessively around the sheet of paper as the ghost of soft, cool fingers gently intertwined with his other hand.
5 Months Later…
A black silhouette swept through the gates of the cemetery, head bowed. It paused, hesitating slightly, and with a deep breath, the shadow continued onwards. The figure stopped at a grave and tilted its head backwards. The moonlight revealed the shadow to be a young man, face painted with a heartbroken expression and tears glistening in his eyes. He lowered himself to the ground, crouching and wiped away the snow from the headstone.
In loving memory of
KURT HUMMEL
1994-2011
"Courage is mastery of fear, resistance to fear,
not absence of fear."
Blaine let out a deep breath and closed his eyes, his index finger tracing the engraved words with ease, his memory guiding his finger more than the feel of the grooves. He opened his eyes and stared. The cemetery was well-lit for this time of night, he thought, it always was. Blaine didn't know why he tended to visit later at night, but he supposed the darkness gave him the feeling of security that he couldn't get with the sun shining on his face. Reaching into the pocket on the inside of his jacket, he pulled out a familiar sheet of paper.
Biting his lip, he reached out his other hand to brush his fingers over the name once again. Yes, he decided, it was time. He took a deep breath, carefully unfolding the letter. Eyes filling with tears at the mere sight of his immaculate handwriting, he began to read.
Dear Blaine,
So…you're either really upset and annoyed at me or really upset and angry with yourself. I know. First of all, don't blame yourself for this. And please tell the family not to, either. This was my decision and it was no one's fault.
Let me tell you the story, now, Blaine, because I want you to understand. And explain this to my dad, as well, please, because he really needs to hear and I don't think I have time to write this twice.
I suppose it really started when I was young, just a little child. I used to get teased a lot and I found that if I took my hands and just scratched along my arms or my legs, it made me feel better. Of course, back then I didn't know what it meant. But my mum caught me one day and she forced me to stop. I still remember the day like it was yesterday. She sat me down on the couch with tears already streaming down her face and said, "Never. Again. Do you hear me?"
I didn't understand why it was such a big deal. But of course, she was my mother, so I listened to her. But it all went downhill after she died. I found that I was a bit lost and my father didn't check for those sort of signs because my mother had never told him. I started to scratch at myself again – the thighs were the most convenient place, easiest to hide.
I was 16 when I actually started cutting. I remember the first time I did it. I took a pair of scissors and sat in my room. I locked the door before I did anything because I didn't want dad to worry. I pressed the blade to my flesh and I remember gasping at how cool it was. Before it even pierced my skin, I started feeling a bit better. But when it finally did, I was in awe. It was like artwork on my skin. It sounds crazy, I know, but that's what I saw.
After that first time, I didn't really do it again. Until, that is, Mr David Karofsky decided to make my life even more hell-ish than it already was. That's when it got worse – a lot worse.
I never told anyone and I was quite good at keeping it hidden. I did it almost every day and there was nothing I could do to stop myself. It was like I'd lost control of myself. That feeling, Blaine…you could never imagine it. And then your dapper little blazer-clad self decided to stroll into my life – you with your overly gelled hair and amazing eyes; you with your puppy-like personality and warm heart. You made me feel better Blaine – so much better.
I honestly thought that I was improving and well, I was becoming a happier person. You filled my life with joy, Blaine, I smiled every day. You made me feel better about myself. The mere mention of you made me grin like a fool. Yeah, I was absolutely infatuated. But I was seriously depressed, Blaine, and even the goods things in my life felt like they started to fade. Eventually, I just didn't feel happy at all. I was too overwhelmed by my own emotions. It was too much for me. Don't feel like you could have prevented it. If you hadn't come into my life, it just would have happened earlier. All you did was delay it. So, I suppose I should thank you.
My only regret was that I couldn't tell you that I love you before this. But know that I do, even in death. And don't…don't think of it as me being "dead", alright? Think of it more as…sleeping. After all, that is what it's like, isn't it? I guess I'll find out soon.
Love always,
Kurt.
Blaine stared down at the sheet of paper, the ink now slightly smudged with salty tears. Silent sobs wracked his body as those words ran through his head.
I love you. I love you. I love you.
He collapsed, kneeling on the ground in despair. The hand not holding the letter stroked softly over the white marble head stone again. A soft whisper escaped his lips as his tears fell silently to the ground.
"I love you, too, Kurt. So much."
Sing me to sleep…