word count: 2300. This is inspired by a story I read several years ago that still resonates with me today. Please enjoy.
/
If you walk away, I'll walk away
First tell me which road you will take
I don't want to risk our paths crossing some day
So you walk that way, I'll walk this way
/
He wakes up at the first sign of sunlight creeping in through his window, and no matter how hard he tries, he can't go back to sleep. It shouldn't be this hard, he thinks, considering how tired he feels.
But Blaine's been feeling tired for awhile lately, and maybe this means that his body is just adjusting to it, maybe it's just becoming a little bit easier instead of harder, maybe it's a good thing –
He closes his eyes again and forces himself to relax, because he wants more sleep. It doesn't matter whether it's getting easier or harder, he just needs to get away for longer than he's been able to.
The bedroom door creaks to his left, but his eyes remain shut, ignoring it. It's too early to deal with this.
But suddenly there's a dip in the bed on his side and there's a body pressing closer than he would like. He wants to roll away, put more space between them, but he is insistent. Blaine feels the familiar, comforting breath on his chest and he tries his best to ignore it, pretends that he can't feel it – who needs to feel anyway, feeling hurts, it all hurts –
"I know you're awake." The words are whispered carefully against his collarbone, and Blaine can't help the shiver that runs through his body when he feels the slightest touch of lips on his bare skin. He curses to himself, wishing that he would stop being so affected by the ridiculous, vain, handsomelovelybrilliantbeautiful man lying next to him.
Blaine keeps his eyes closed, wishing he would just go away, because he can't do this, not now, it's too soon –
"I can hear you thinking, Blaine. You're not exactly quiet."
"Go away," he finally whispers, his throat raw. Go away, please just go away.
Kurt nudges his nose against Blaine's neck and he knows he's losing this battle. "I don't want to. Not yet."
Blaine gasps and finally his eyes open, because that hurt, fuck, that hurt, it's too soon, and does he even know what he's doing to Blaine? Does he even know what he's saying? Blaine breathes deeply through his nose a few times, throwing his arms over his face to shield out the world for just a few more seconds.
He brings his arms down finally, slowly, because he hasn't moved much in the past few days and even lifting his arms so suddenly caused a strain in his aching muscles. He realizes that he's sitting up, and how that happened he doesn't know, but he doesn't dare turn to his right to face the man that he knows is watching him carefully.
"You have to get ready now," he hears, and he clenches his hands in his comforter, fighting against the prickling sensation in his eyes. I don't have to do anything. You can't make me do anything. You're not in charge of me any more than I'm in charge of you. But that train of thought leads to memories of being tied to this very bed, bodies slick and sliding together with whispered "You'll come whenever I say"s in his ear, and Blaine shakes his head roughly, his mind shouting for release.
"I can't do this now."
"You're going to have to," the man next to him whispers, and childishly, Blaine shakes his head. Kurt sighs, pushing himself closer and Blaine stiffens. "I know you're upset, but sweetheart-"
And Blaine can't help it; at the familiar name, he jerks away so violently that he falls off the side of the bed. "Don't call me that," he whispers, and finally, finally, he looks up and stares into those bluegreengreyhaunting eyes, filled with something like pity. "Stop looking at me like that," Blaine says, but he can't seem to look away, even as he's standing up and moving to sit on the edge of the bed again. It's ridiculous, is what it is, that this man can make Blaine do things he doesn't want to do, and Blaine ponders if he'll ever outgrow that. He doesn't think so.
He smiles at Blaine, and it's a smile that Blaine hasn't seen since high school – sad but brave, like he's trying to cover up something that is upsetting him, and failing miserably. It makes things much more real to Blaine, and he can't help but frown in return.
"Don't act like this, okay?" Kurt moves so he's sitting next to Blaine. "This is hard for me, too."
Blaine doesn't answer. He refuses to make this easier, regardless of how immature it is. He deserves to be selfish just this once.
The man sighs, rubbing the knuckles of his fingers a few times – it's a habit of his, Blaine's noticed. He does it when he's nervous, when he's impatient, when he's turned on in public, and – like right now – when he doesn't know what to do.
The hand closest to Blaine moves to rest on Blaine's thigh, palm up. "Come on."
Blaine hesitates, unwilling to make more contact with him than needed, but takes it, because he needs the familiar weight of that warm hand right now.
The hand is as cold as ice, but Blaine refuses to let go.
The man pulls Blaine to his feet, leading him carefully to the bathroom. Blaine watches, numb, as he grabs a towel from the too-high-up-for-Blaine-to-reach cabinet and reaches inside of the shower to turn the faucet, keeping his hand under the steady rain of water falling into the bathtub.
He turns around eventually, shaking his arm a few times to dry his hand off, and gestures for Blaine to get inside. Blaine looks at him blankly, refusing to cooperate.
The boy tilts his head slowly, his piercing gaze studying Blaine's face, and Blaine suddenly feels embarrassed, because he hasn't showered in days, why is he even here, and he flushes as he focuses his attention to the tiles below his feet, trying to count how many there were.
He sighs. "Okay," he whispers, and while Blaine can sense the resignation, he can also sense that he's trying to hold it back. "Arms up for me, then."
And Blaine dutifully raises his arms as he takes off his black silk pajamas. He blushes slightly at the boy's raised eyebrow, remembering that the silk pajamas didn't actually belong to him, but he avoids his gaze, focusing on the blue tiles on the walls around him. He doesn't have the energy to feel too embarrassed.
Kurt moves around him until he's behind him, placing his hand gently on the small of Blaine's back - Blaine shivers, because no, that isn't fair, he can't do that - and nudging him in the direction of the shower. "Come on, Blaine, when was the last time you took a shower?"
"When was the last time I saw you?" Blaine counters back, and then they both freeze, because wow he did not mean to say that. His heart falls slightly at the silence that follows, but says nothing. They both know the answer to the question; there's no need to voice it.
After a moment Kurt lets out a breath and gently guides him into the shower. When the water makes contact, Blaine jumps back - the heat, although just the right temperature, feels like it's burning him from how cold he is. He moves tentatively back towards the spray, easing himself into it.
"Are you alright?" Kurt asks, worried.
Blaine doesn't answer. They both know the answer to that question, too.
He tugs the curtain closed between them. "Come out whenever you're done, okay?" he says, the reckless beat of the water falling against Blaine's skin and the bathtub drowning out his words. Blaine waits until he hears the door close behind him before he sits down cross-legged on the bathtub floor, closing his eyes and turning his face up to the spray as the water cascades down his skin. He takes in the warmth, something he hasn't felt in days - or weeks, maybe. Blaine isn't sure.
He stays there until the water turns cold and his fingers are shriveled and pruned, and then he turns the faucet and waits for him to come back.
Kurt finally pushes the bathroom curtain roughly to the side, and Blaine can see the frustration on his face as he opens his mouth to speak before he takes in Blaine, and Blaine understands. He knows how he looks right now: the exhausted, frail eyes, the pale skin, the defeated posture. He looks pathetic, and he can see Kurt's mind working to repress the annoyance.
Blaine stands up carefully, taking Kurt's - cold, cold, always so cold - hand as he steps out of the tub. He rubs at Blaine's skin with the towel, drying him off and wrapping it around his waist. Blaine grabs another towel and starts to dry his hair, but Kurt gently pries it out of his hands and does it himself. "Pat, Blaine. Don't rub. I'm not going to be here to remind you next-"
"Don't." The word rips out of Blaine so suddenly that it shocks them both, but that hurts, and Kurt can't say that. He can't even think about that because thinking about it would make this too real.
"… I'm sorry," he says, swallowing hard. He finishes drying Blaine's hair in silence, and all Blaine can do is breathe.
He finally takes his hand again, leading them in the direction of the bedroom. Blaine stands there and lets Kurt walk over to their closet. It's significantly emptier than it used to be, but Kurt doesn't say anything about it. "What are you planning on wearing?"
Blaine shrugs, sitting down on the end of the bed and picking restlessly at the bedsheets. He hears Kurt rummaging around for a few minutes, but concentrates carefully on smoothing out the wrinkles on the sheets nearest to him. He looks up again when he feels Kurt's presence standing in front of him: a black button down, black dress pants. And a maroon bow tie.
Kurt meets his gaze. "This was my favorite of yours," he says, seemingly absentmindedly, but the heaviness of the sentence is palpable and something gets caught in Blaine's throat as he tightens his jaw.
He forces himself to stand. Kurt helps him put the clothes on, his fingers nimble as they button up the buttons and smooths out the wrinkles. The air gets thick when Kurt moves behind Blaine, tucking in his shirt. There is a whisper of lips on the back of his neck and Blaine shivers, instinctively moving closer before forcing his body to move forward, away. And yet Kurt continues to run his hands on his back, as if he's memorizing the slope of his spine, mapping his skin, memorizing every part of him, and Blaine closes his eyes to fight against the onslaught of emotions creeping up on him.
When he opens them again, Kurt is standing in front of him pulling a belt through his belt loops. His eyes are worried as they connect with Blaine's. "You've lost weight."
The message is clear: take better care of yourself.
Blaine doesn't say anything because anything he says will make it worse.
They both move to the dresser, and Kurt picks up the small bottle of coconut oil, rubbing some between his hands before he brings it up to Blaine's hair. "Do you remember how much you're supposed to use?"
"Size of a dime," Blaine replies quietly, and he watches Kurt smile to himself in the mirror. God, he missed that smile.
Blaine reaches out and takes his ring from the small box on the right of the dresser, his fingers shaking slightly as he pulls it on. He looks up to meet Kurt's gaze, but he's focused on his ring.
Kurt swallows. "Forever, remember?"
"It's not, though," Blaine whispers, closing his eyes. And now it's starting to be too much, because what is Kurt even doing here, anyway? Why is he doing this now?
"It is," Kurt says fiercely. "This doesn't change anything."
There's a knock on the door, and Blaine startles before he calls for whoever to come in. Rachel walks in, her eyes glistening with unshed tears, framed with black eye makeup. It matches the color of her dress.
"Are you ready?" She asks Blaine, her voice rough. "We're going to be late."
"Go on," he hears, Kurt whispering directly in his ear. He steels himself, trying to hold himself together. He nods his head, closing his eyes for a second and then moving.
Rachel holds her hand out and Blaine grabs at it like a lifeline, the warmth of her fingers so different from the cold of Kurt's. She leads him towards the doorway.
Blaine looks back, and Kurt is still there, seated daintily on the edge of their bed. He waves, a small smile on his face, but his eyes are resigned, dull. Blaine blinks.
"Blaine?" Rachel says, worry in her voice. "Did you forget something? What are you looking at?"
Blaine shakes his head, turning back to her but not meeting her eyes. He reaches his other hand up to swipe at his eyes, the tears finally falling.
Together, they walk out of the empty room.
/
As I'm leaving she wakes up and says
"I dreamed you were carried away on the crest of a wave
Baby don't go away, come here"