Title: Stopping
Author: catsblackmagic
Warning: Self harm, food substance issues (bulimia, ect.), high ammounts of angst.
Word Count: 518
Rating: M
Characters/Paring: Kurt/Blaine
Disclaimer: It'd be nice to own Glee. ^^ But I don't. :c
Summary: Kurt has a secret he doesn't care about, but won't talk to anyone. Except Blaine, of course.
Author's Note: I got this idea after reading 'Cut' by Katherine McCormick. Very good book. ^^'
.break.-
At about quarter 'til ten, the door is open and he's there, in the doorway. Huh. He must know my routine now.
"Kurt, give me the file. Now."
Blaine's voice is steady and firm, but is only masking the pain and remorse in his voice. I watch him with wide, curious eyes, as if I have no idea what he's talking about. The file is half an inch from my forearm. Blaine and I stare at each other for a moment, then he crosses the room and sits beside me. He claps my wrist, speaking gentley. "Drop it." His voice is that of hurt and somewhat of disbelief. He grips tighter, his nails digging into the inside of my wrist. "Kurt," he pleads stiffly. My hand opens on it's own accord, not because of Blaine's voice, but because the pain in my wrist is starting to hurt. The file falls, trips underneath the bed. The bedsheets crinkle as Blaine shifts, sighs.
"You need to stop this."
I say nothing. Come to think of it, I never say anything anymore. Not that there's anything wrong with that. Not talking doesn't get you in any trouble. And not getting in trouble keeps you out of the radar. It works easier this way.
Blaine looks up at me, then sighs again, looking at the ground between his shoes. He's desperate for an answer, that much is clear to me. He wants this to stop (this is the fourth time he's caught me). He wants our relationship to be normal. He wants his life to be normal. Isn't that what everyone wants, though? And if everyone wants to be normal, to fit in, then what would the base for normal be? I'm thinking too much again. That's the problem with not talking. You have too much time to think.
"Kurt?" Blaine pleads again, and I figure if I'm silent to everyone, shouldn't I at least talk to someone? I make that someone Blaine, and, for the first time in weeks, speak.
"...Yes?"
My voice is hesitent and tiny, and I don't recognize it well. He looks up sharply, watching me. I lift an eyebrow in response. He looks back down, and I guess he thinks he heard wrong. Talking is surprisingly tiring, and I don't want to do it again. So, instead, I reach out and touch his forearm. Momemtarily, I'm transfixed by the sight of my pale, skinny arm with red slashes across it against the navy blue of his uniform. He looks at me, blinks. Courage gathers at the surface of my mouth as I speak again.
"I'll try... To stop... For you."
His eyes are slightly widened and he nods. "I'll help you; I'll be there. No matter. Promise me you'll try hard to stop?"
I'm quite weary by now, so I only nod, smile slightly. Blaine returns the smile half force, says, "Good", then grabs the file from under the bed. I don't know if I whine over it's loss or not. He closes the door, and I lie back on the bed, dozing into a thick slumber.
.break.-
AN: To make it clear, Kurt's at his house, in his room. Blaine's there, because, well, as it states, Blaine knows Kurt's routine. Let's pretend Blaine doesn't live far from Kurt, 'kay? :D