You think I'm pretty without any makeup on, you think I'm-
Goddammit. Goddammit.
Couldn't Blaine have waited five more minutes? Tomorrow would have been even better. Say, couldn't he have waited till...next week?
Kurt snatches up the nearest non-designer bit of cloth he can find and presses it against the freshly bleeding crook of his elbow before fumbling for the cell phone that has somehow fallen off the counter and is now, maddeningly, dancing just out of his reach in its eagerness to alert him that he's about to miss Blaine's call. He fumbles for the 'answer' button and presses it just as Blaine is starting to leave a message.
"Yeah, Kurt, it's me, just wanted to - hey, Kurt, I know it's late, but I was just thinking about - Kurt...Kurt, what happened?"
It is a remarkable thing that each can tell if the other is hurting, even without words or body language. Or, at least, Blaine has this strange extra sense that connects him to Kurt so deeply that he knows instantly that nothing is all right. Might be kinda nice if that went both ways. Kurt knows that Blaine knows he is hurting more now than ever, and in a way he is grateful that he doesn't need to explain anything, at least for now.
"Blaine, I - " Words fail him. Of course Blaine will understand why he couldn't stay on the line. When they meet for coffee in the morning (like they always do on Saturdays; it's such a ritual that Kurt can hardly remember what he used to do with his Saturday mornings) he'll say his phone died, or the power went out, or some stupid explanation that Blaine won't believe for a second. But he'll pretend to anyway so that they can keep on pretending that there's nothing wrong between them (because they're supposed to go the distance, dammit) so that they can hold on to the scraps of what they do have as long as possible. They must be getting close to the last of them, though, or Kurt wouldn't be kneeling on the bathroom floor pressing Finn's dirty t-shirt into his arm to stop the bleeding (he won't apologize to Finn later, either). Despite his best efforts, Kurt begins to choke back a sob.
"Shh, Kurt, it's okay. You know I'm here for you." And that is why he begins to weep in earnest, because he isn't there for anyone and that's how this whole mess got started in the first place. But Kurt starts babbling, through his crying, about how the end of the year was making all the teachers sadistic douches, how everyone in glee had hated him because some of them had gotten it in their heads that it was his fault that they hadn't started writing their songs until forty-eight hours before their performance, and talking about everything but what they should have been talking about, and explaining everything when in all probability Blaine should be the one explaining himself because since when did he start calling after nine-thirty anyway? But Blaine is patient and mutters little syllables that don't really mean anything other than than he's listening and he cares, and right now Kurt just can't bring himself to hate that nobody seems to be capable of telling the truth around here.
"Shh, shh, it's okay baby. whatever's going on, we can talk about this, like we always do, okay? And I know this is hard for you - " like hell he does, but whatever - "but you need to sleep, okay? Trust me, babe, you'll feel a little better in the morning."
"I just - god, Blaine, why does life have to suck right now?" He's not sure why he's asking, other than, well, he doesn't know and so he might as well begin to try to find someone who does.
"I don't know, baby. I don't know. But I love you and that's what counts, right?"
Kurt's heart just about stops right then, and he's pretty sure that Blaine's having trouble not breaking down. Hypocrisy will do that sometimes.
"I love you too, baby -" lies lies lies but seriously, what else is he supposed to say - "and I'm going to go to sleep now. I'll talk to you in the morning."
"Sweet dreams, Kurt."
"You too."
The fact that he has no idea whether Blaine actually disconnected ought to make him feel a margin less like shit, but since his arm starts bleeding again the moment he lifts Finn's t-shirt, it doesn't.
Hey, so thanks for reading this first chapter of my debut entry to . I'm a little nervous about this (who wouldn't be?), mostly because I'm still trying to figure out how this publishing thing works, but also partly because I'd told myself that I wouldn't upload this story until it was finished, and, well, it's not. There ought to be two more chapters, and maybe an epilogue if it doesn't end as badly as I hope. Thanks for all the hits and alerts so far, and remember, reviews feed the plotmonster!
