Title: Fix You.
By: michelleKF
Rated: M, for strong themes.
A/N: Ok so this is my first story, and I'm kind of nervous because there are so many amaaaaaazing fanfictions in here that I sort of.. feel the pressure(?) It's not so good yet, and actually I still have to find the point of the whole situation.. if you guys have suggestions I would absolutely appreciate them (and love you :3)
So, this story will be a mixture of present facts and flashbacks, and there will be a lot of angst.. because I llllove it. The fact is that I already have writer's block and this sucks because I wrote just the first chapter, and I still don't know where I want this story to go, and blah blah blah- Ok stop it.
PS: I'm Italian, and despite my very good marks in English, I'll make mistakes, oh yeah. Especially with the tenses and the speech, so please, excuse me if you read something non-fucking-sense.
Disclaimer: I do not own Glee.
Act One: Memories.
All those wishes, all those hopes, all those promises.
His lovely, perfect smile, and the cute way his eyes narrowed when he laughed.
All the tight bear-hugs that couldn't let him breathe properly.
His kisses, God, his kisses. His soft lips, his fresh-mint breath, his limber tongue.
All the fast and pounding heartbeats and the quick shivers caused by his touch.
His dick, dammit, why couldn't he stop thinking about his dick? He had never been that kind of guy.
Suddenly his thoughts converged on that day.. though thinking about it was like a twinge in the heart and a punch in the stomach for him. He took a deep breath while the images and the memories took involuntarily place in his head. "Fuck", he thought. The truth was just that he could not fight them back. He was sitting in his room, staring outside the window, expressionless, heavy circles surrounding his icy blue eyes. Days, weeks had passed since the last time he had slept for more than 4 hours, and even his concealer couldn't hide the livid signs anymore, so he gave up and accepted the fact that he would look like crap.. on the other side, he didn't have to impress anyone anymore, did he? The only reason why he always cared to look the best was him.
He let the painful memories run through his mind. The first time they made "love", actually penetrating themselves, it felt so right. Even though it hurt, like fucking hell, after he got used to the feeling he felt the rush of pleasure starting to grow from his feet, shaking his stomach and pulsing in his head. He felt strange, filled and so.. complete. He remembered the words of his father: don't throw yourself away. "I didn't, dad", he thought. He felt proud of himself, well, in that little part of his brain which wasn't completely fogged by passion. He came, crying his name out loud through moans and pants, suddenly feeling so weak and tired for the overload of pleasure. It took a few minutes for him to catch his breath again, he was exhausted, but so happy and relieved, he had always thought the worse for his first time. He turned his head to the boy next to him, who was still breathing heavily and staring at the ceiling. He was so beautiful. His curls had escaped the cage of gel and now they were messed up on his forehead. How could he look so natural and still so charming? The other boy turned his head to the window, on the other side from where the younger and no-more-virgin boy laid. After a few seconds he sighed and turned back, shifting his body so that he was lying on his side and facing him. He smiled gently, and then he put his right hand on the younger boy porcelain-face, stroking his cheek in a caring and comforting way. He knew it was the first time for him so he wanted him to feel, you know.. safe. Blue eyes met the hazel-green ones. Everything seemed so perfect. His mind was still foggy, and his rationality had fallen to pieces since they threw themselves onto the bed, so, almost unconsciously Kurt cupped the left cheek of Blaine with one hand, resting the other one on the curly boy's slightly hairy chest, and whispered the three words, eight letters sentence: "I love you".
Blaine was lying on his bed, trying to relax, but that would've been really hard for him, 'cause he was obviously not alone in his dorm-room. On the other side of the room were his best friends Wes and David, playing "COD: Black Ops". Wes was sitting crossed-legs on the floor, eyes staring at the TV screen, not even blinking, while David was simply sitting on the desk chair with a huge grin, probably killing somebody in that virtual life. They were all but silent, they were yelling and offending each other, and the noise of the joysticks buttons pressed continuously at a nerves-crashing pace was driving Blaine insane. He was trying to keep himself calm and to not kill his fellows. He loved them after all and so did Jeff, so he couldn't kill them, or the blonde boy would have killed him after that, and probably would commit suicide afterwards. No, killing his buddies was not a good idea.
Thee four guys formed a united group, even though Wes and David were juniors, while Jeff and Blaine were only sophomores. They were Warblers, so they always spent a lot of time together, for rehearsal, and they also shared some classes, so they started hangin' out together a few months ago, and then became what they were now: best friends. The kind of friends that you can always count on, with whom you share everything, even the darkest secrets, and that would love you and protect you even if you had done the biggest bullshit in the world. Blaine was gay and they had accepted it from the first moment. Blaine and Wes were roommates, David and Jeff were not, but it was like the four lived together, considering all the time they spent in Wes and Blaine's room. Then Kurt came, and Blaine took him under his wing, like some kind of protector or tutor (well, that's what he said). Kurt immediately became part of the group, everybody liked him, they treated him like a little brother since he was the new kid, the new Warbler's countertenor and Blaine's new crush. All the guys realized that in something like 2 seconds, while they were singing "Teenage Dream" and well, Blaine was actually singing it to Kurt (even if he still had never admit it). And Blaine was Kurt's new crush, something that they understood in even less time, while he was watching and listening to Blaine it was like he had LOVE printed on his forehead in capitals letters and heart-shaped eyes. But still Blaine wanted to be the fucking dapper one, so he took things slow. Freaking slow, actually. Anyway, after a month of two and a lot of encouragement from Jeff, Wes and David, Blaine did his move.. and then of course Kurt was the happiest person alive. They were all lovey-dovey, but then suddenly..
"Fuck you Dav', you're not going to kill me!" growled Wes, completely focused on the game.
"Yes I am, and you're going too" - he pushed a button, threw the joystick on the bed and jumped off the seat, - "DIEEEEE!" screamed David, jumping around with fists in the air like a boxer who just won a match, and obviously starting his "victory dance". Oh. God.
"Shit, shit, shit, shit!"shouted Wes, pushing his head in his hands, and then David threw himself upon him.
"Kiss my ass, Wesley!" - said David, putting his bottom in front of his friend's face.
"Hell, never!" - screamed Wesley, pushing David away from him.. and then they started wrestling.
"8 years old"- thought Blaine, frustrated - "I swear, if they ask me to arbitrate, I'll completely lose my mind".. and so they obviously did.
"Dammit Blaine, count down, I've got him!" said David, holding Wes down to the floor.
"Oh my God guys, would you please stop?" snapped Blaine, standing up from his bed and throwing his arm in the air, staring at his friends with that creepy gaze that he always does when he freaks out.
"Hey man, calm down!" - muttered Wes from under David, who then released him from his arm-lock. "Yes Blaine, relax!" said David, standing up from the floor to switch the X-Box off.
"That's what I'm trying to do, but with you two acting like fucking dumb-asses, it's really, really, tough. Sometimes I think that your brain's age is like 8 years old guys!" - yelled back Blaine, and then he took a long deep breath to calm himself, his temples were pulsing and he felt like his eyes were going to explode.
"Well, sorry, we are guys, we are teenagers, we like to have fun, you know, like, to live" - said Wes, with a harsh annoying tone - "maybe you should try it too! Sorry for our behaviour Mr., we're leaving now. Happy?" added David then with the same tone, looking at Blaine with a fake smirk, and making his way out the room with Wes.
"Thank God" thought Blaine, looking up. Then he shut his eyes and rubbed his temples, walking towards his bed to finally lay down in silence. "Another headache, perfect", he murmured to himself. That was nothing new to him, indeed, he was used to it; he had had headaches every fucking day for more almost 3 weeks, and now he was practically aspirin-addicted. One day he had such a strong one that he had to leave the classroom and go to the school's nurse, who prescribed a painkiller and sent him to bed, signing his justification. He didn't want to skip his classes but he had to do it, because he couldn't handle the headache anymore.
Blaine Anderson had never been the weak one, but his body, his brain was literally killing him. He tried to fight it, he tried to distract, to push his thoughts away, but he had never won them. How long could he resist that way? He did feel better, both physically and psychologically, even when we had been bullied in his old school, 'cause at the time he had to struggle with somebody else.. now he had to struggle with himself, and it wasn't easy.. at all.
He hated himself, he hated the person that he had managed to be. He hated the fact that he didn't even know how he became that type of person: always closed in himself and on the edge of freaking out, and most of all angry, so fucking angry with whoever, especially with the ones who cared about him and tried to help him. He had always been the dapper and gentle one. Now he was just the rude asshole. Blaine Anderson was an asshole, and he couldn't blame it on the others, he couldn't blame it on.. him. He could just blame it on himself. He had ruined everything, no actually he screwed everything up, and then he had lost the only thing that brightened up his life. He had lost the only thing that really.. really mattered in his averaged life. He had lost his own personal paradise hidden behind those blue eyes. He had lost that shiny little smile. He had lost his best friend and most of all, he had lost the first person who actually understood him and truly loved him for who he was.
He had lost Kurt Hummel.
So.. is it worth continuing this? Rewies will be loved. Michelle.