Warnings: Suicide, depression, character death
Kurt glanced at his phone.
One missed call.
He shoved it back inside his pocket, making a mental note to check who had called when he had more free time on his hands.
He picked up his sketchpad again, frantically continuing his designs because he had less than 12 hours to complete his collection for his final assignment.
He shifted in his seat in the design studio, glancing up at the setting sun over the New York City skyline and smiling despite his overtired and rushed state, because at least he was there. He was finally there.
He soon became so absorbed in his drawings that he didn't notice when his phone vibrated in his pocket again, announcing a second missed call.
Blaine sunk to the floor of the bathroom when his call went to voicemail again.
Chucking his phone across the room in exasperation, he lowered his head into his hands, feeling them shaking violently.
He would just have to pull through on his own.
Determined, Blaine tried to shake off the crushing sadness threatening to overtake him.
He tried to steady his hands by gripping the edge of the bathtub, but it only resulted in turning his knuckles white and stinging his palms.
He tried another tactic.
He thought of happy things. Kurt, his friends, glee, music, the Warblers, anything. But the images he tried to hold so close kept slipping out of his grasp and fading to black.
Nothing could keep at bay the darkness that was eating away at him.
Panicking as he felt the fingers of depression pulling him deeper and deeper, he tried one final attempt at keeping his head above water.
He counted his breaths.
In, out, in out. One, two, three, four, five, six...
But as he counted, all he could think of was how he hoped each breath would be his last.
The studio had grown dark, and Kurt had had to break his concentration to get up and turn the lights on.
Intending to continue working right away, Kurt guiltily snuck his phone from his pocket to check for new texts.
Three missed calls.
Kurt's brow wrinkled as the missed call sign flashed on his screen. The only person who ever called instead of texting was his dad, and he had just spoken to him a few hours earlier.
Checking the display, Kurt's mind reeled when he saw that the name "Blaine" accompanied each of the missed calls. All within the last hour.
His heart dropped into his stomach.
Blaine never called. They always texted or skyped.
His schoolwork was instantly pushed from his mind as he dialled Blaine's number with unsteady fingers.
Trying to help himself hadn't helped at all.
Self loathing at his own helplessness pooled in Blaine's stomach as he dialled Kurt's number for the third time.
Nothing.
Reaching a breaking point, Blaine yelled out angrily at the sound of Kurt's voicemail message. He embedded his fingers in his hair and pulled hard, trying to divert some of the pain to his scalp.
Fingers still knotted in his hair, Blaine began to rock back on forth with his knees pulled up to his chest.
He needed help. He knew he did.
It had been a long time since it had gotten this bad, but all of a sudden, there it was; all the depression, anger, sickness, sadness, rearing its ugly head.
He could feel himself falling deeper; farther away from help, farther away from himself.
His phone was vibrating with a call from across the room, but Blaine couldn't summon the strength to get up.
As he rocked back and forth, he was acutely aware of his how alone he was.
He had no real friends left. His parents were out. Kurt was over 500 miles away.
He would be dead for hours before anyone would find him.
"Pick up, pick up, pick up." Kurt muttered to the empty studio as Blaine's phone rang and rang until it finally went to voicemail.
"Damn it."
Kurt felt unsteady on his feet, so he sat down on the stool, trying to stop his mind from racing to all sorts of conclusions.
He didn't know what was going on, but he was almost sure that three missed calls from Blaine meant something bad.
He didn't know much, except that sometimes, Blaine got sad.
Really sad.
Feeling time ticking by and not thinking once of his assignment, Kurt dialled again.
"Pick up."
Blaine clutched the bottle in his hand fiercely as if it would save his life, not end it.
But the two things were almost the same to him.
His throat constricted at the thought of the pills sliding down it, but he felt relief. He knew they would bring an end to his debilitating sadness.
Blaine never considered religion much before, and he didn't give it much thought then either.
Whether he ended up at the pearly gates or rotting in the ground, anything would be better than this.
He unscrewed the lid with some difficulty; his sweaty palms making the task more difficult than it should have been.
Pouring the entire contents of the bottle into his palm, he examined the tiny yellow pills with mild interest.
They seemed so harmless, so happy.
But he knew they weren't. He knew they would clog his throat with vomit. He knew they would relax his muscles until his lungs couldn't move. He knew they would lull his brain into a false sleep, never to wake up again.
And suddenly he was afraid.
Crying out, he continued clutching the pills in his closed fist while using his other hand to wipe the steady stream of hot tears from his face.
He wanted to die, but he was afraid.
His phone started vibrating on the opposite side of the bathroom. Tears still streaming down his face, sobs wracking his body, he realized he needed to answer.
It would be Kurt. Kurt would help him.
Still not feeling as if he had the strength to get up and walk over to the phone, he used his free hand to pull himself across the smooth tiles to where his phone was vibrating angrily on the cold floor.
Shuddering with the force of his sobs, Blaine picked up the phone.
"Kurt?"
The voice on the other end of the line cracked and broke in the middle of his name.
"Blaine! What is it? What's wrong?" Kurt felt sick as he heard the tears in his boyfriend's voice.
"K—Kurt" he repeated shakily.
"What is it baby? Talk to me." Kurt tried to make his voice as soothing as possible, despite the urge to scream and yell and cry.
"I-I...I need...help." Blaine finally managed to choke out.
Kurt felt the room spin as he suddenly realized what Blaine meant.
"Blaine. Where are you?" he was surprised by how calm and authoritative his voice sounded despite everything.
"At home." Blaine answered between sniffles and stifled sobs.
"Where are your parents Blaine?"
"Gone," was all he supplied.
Kurt felt a rush of anger.
"Okay. Okay. Talk to me then. Tell me what I can do for you."
"Nothing. Kurt—I just...I know you will be so disappointed in me but I just can't...do it anymore. Don't be disappointed in me Kurt." Blaine moaned his voice dropping to a whisper at Kurt's name.
"No, no. I'm never disappointed in you Blaine." Kurt willed the phone with every bit of his being to transmit the sincerity in his tone.
"I love you. You're perfect."
Blaine let out a strangled laugh that scared Kurt more than anything.
"All I've ever been is a burden to you Kurt. And I'm so so sorry. I'm so sorry. It stops now. I—I won't call anymore and...and I won't bother y-you...with my pathetic-c-c little problems..." Blaine's breath hitched until he couldn't speak anymore.
"No, no no!" Kurt called out desperately. "You're never a burden, you have to know that." His facade of composure finally cracked and his voice betrayed the tears falling hard and fast.
"Oh..." Blaine breathed. "See! Now I've hurt you...Kurt, God, I'm so sorry. The last thing I...I ever wanted to do is hurt you. It'll all be over soon. I won't hurt you anymore."
There was a long pause while Kurt struggled to find the right words. How could he possibly tell Blaine that he was everything to him, and make him believe?
"Blaine, listen to me. Don't hurt yourself. I promise that whatever you're feeling right now, we can get help. Real help. We can make you feel better, I can come home and-"
"The pills are really pretty Kurt."
Kurt's mouth went dry.
"Blaine don't. Oh god, please don't. I can't..."
"It just hurts so bad Kurt. And they'll make it stop."
Kurt sobbed openly, grasping for anything in the room to hold him upright as he slipped off the stool. Struggling for breath, he tried to formulate a plan.
He could call Tina, or Artie. His dad. Blaine's parents. 9-1-1. Anything.
The distance between them stretched endlessly. He was so far away.
"I love you." Blaine choked out.
"Blaine. No. Don't you dare hang up. Don't you dare hang up on me Blaine. Blaine don't you dare-"
The click of Blaine hanging up forced Kurt to his knees.
It was the sound of the end.