As Blaine tightened the rope around his neck, his sweaty palms shaking as he pulled tight, he thought of Kurt.
He thought of how much he hated himself and of how much he loved Kurt, and how he was doing this for him. He wasn't being selfish. He was doing this for Kurt, the love of his life.
Now, Kurt wouldn't have to wonder if he should forgive him or not; he would be let go of the straps that were Blaine. The straps that bound him into their relationship that Blaine ended up fucking up anyway.
Blaine didn't want to leave a note.
He figured it would be easier that way, not having to explain himself. He wasn't worth an explanation.
"I-I'm so sorry," he whispered, the words scratched out of his throat like glass. His cheeks, he imagined were blood red, stained by tears and stress and mistakes. The rope tugged at his throat, and Blaine wondered if that was the last contact he would ever feel.
"Jesus," he rasped, breathing in sharp, almost painful breaths the four legs of the chair wobbled beneath him.
I don't want to die like this, he thought, but he knew if he didn't do it now, he never would, and it would just be hurting Kurt, and –
Blaine stepped off; eyes ripped open by the pain of not being able to breathe. His throat constricted, and his heart slammed into his chest as it struggled to survive, to live.
His world went black.
"Hey, Dad!" Kurt said into his phone, "What's up, I haven't heard from you in-"
"Blaine's in the hospital." Burt's voice was blunt. Hurt. Disbelieving.
Kurt didn't quite register it as first. "Wait. What. Blaine's in the… why?"
"He uhm- he tried to kill himself Kurt."
It was as if pain traveled up Kurt's spine like a bullet, affecting every single part of him in one quick shot, wracking him with hurt like he had never come even close to feeling.
"I- I'll be there t-today." Was all he could make out before he made his way to the bathroom, sobs screaming from him like ghosts, escaping from his mouth, leaving scars in his throat. He fell against the side of the stall, clutching the linoleum floor like it was the very air his lungs needed.
He'd forgotten to hang up his phone.
Burt cringed as he put his palm to his mouth, until he couldn't listen to his boy breaking apart anymore.