Blaine wasn't sure how long they'd been in the hallway with Kurt pacing agitatedly across the linoleum, agonizing over the announcement: "Your 2011 Prom Queen is… Kurt Hummel." He only knew that he'd been sitting on the floor long enough to feel the cold metal of the lockers seeping through his jacket, the vents digging into his back. But none of that mattered, the only thing that mattered was Kurt - and the tears on his face.
"Would you at least… sit down?" he offered lightly, watching Kurt walk past again, fingers against his lip. He turned a little slower to walk the other way, but still said nothing. "… Do you want to go? We don't have to go back in there."
Kurt faced him now, half his saddened face glowing with the light of a nearby cabinet. "Wasn't this prom supposed to be about redemption?" he asked, the shake of tears still trailing his voice. "About taking away that lump you had in your throat from running away?" He closed his eyes and rolled his head against the locker, looking away from his boyfriend for the first time since the announcement had been made. "If we leave all it's gonna do is give me a lump, too."
Blaine could feel his own pains and regrets lodged firmly in his throat - he'd known their constriction since that horrific night had ended. He couldn't imagine Kurt having to deal with one of his own, waking every morning reminded of his own cowardice, of the victory that intolerance had won. But the alternative… "So what do you want to do?" he asked simply.
The choice was Kurt's. It had always been Kurt's. But what would he say? Blaine had known his own answer from the moment he'd found himself lying facedown on the concrete with another kid's shoes in his ribs. He knew he couldn't face it anymore, he'd thought nothing would ever change… but Kurt had faced this before, had left it, and had returned of his own volition. Kurt had a strength Blaine didn't think he'd ever see. Could he have the strength to do what Blaine hadn't?
His voice was quiet. The words were straightforward, but laced with such emotion that Blaine felt his heart swell to bursting, "I am gonna go back in there and get coronated." Tears slowly rose to Blaine's hazel eyes, the corners of his mouth turning into the barest of smiles as he watched this boy have the courage he never did. "I'm gonna show them that it doesn't matter if they are yelling at me or whispering behind my back," Kurt went on, voice growing more and more sure as he spoke. "That they can't touch me. They can't touch us. Or what we have."
Blaine couldn't help it. As Kurt had spoken he had come to kneel beside him, and Blaine had pushed himself off the lockers to meet him. He leaned closer, gently bringing their lips together, and then pulled away, smiling a little as Kurt took a few last calming breaths. Blaine fished around in his pocket, finding the little packet of tissues and offering them to Kurt, who plainly gave him a, 'Really, why do you have those in the pocket of your tuxedo, Blaine' look before accepting one to wipe his nose with.
The older boy stood, gently patting the dust off his pants, swallowing thickly around the quickly re-tightening lump in his throat. But he couldn't be nervous here. Kurt needed him, if only to stand in the audience and be there. He looked down again, locked eyes with Kurt, and held out a hand. "Are you ready for this?"
He hesitated only a fraction of a second, accepting the hand and standing up. Blaine squeezed the hand in his gently before letting go, quietly returning to the gym. Nobody paid him much mind, only giving him the sly glances of, "Oh, there's that guy that ran out after Kurt" as he passed. He tried not to see them, tried not to let them constrict his throat any tighter, because he needed to be paying attention to -
The door opened again, and Kurt walked through. A deathly silence fell over the auditorium. Suddenly Blaine found he couldn't breathe, watching with paralyzed eyes as Kurt slowly but surely made his way across the front of the room, up onto the slightly raised stage, and stood next to the school's principal. Blaine's thoughts were a mess - pride and hurt and love and pain raced each other around his mind, none quite able to take the lead, until the principal leaned toward the mic and announced, "Ladies and gentlemen… your 2011 prom queen, Kurt Hummel."
Pride won out the race for his heart - he felt it beating wildly as the crown was lowered onto Kurt's perfect hair - but fear won his mind, the lump quickly strangling his attempts to continue breathing in a normal way. And then Kurt had accepted his scepter, and stepped closer to the microphone. The room had been silent before, but now it seemed as though a vacuum had forcibly removed all ambient noise from the world. His blue eyes surveyed the auditorium for a moment - Blaine hoped his eyes were as encouraging as his heart felt, not as fearful as his mind did - but then he'd taken a deep breath, slowly put on a smile, and said, "Eat your heart out, Kate Middleton."
For a few brief heartbeats, Blaine felt the worst coming. Nobody moved, nobody breathed. But then one, two people clapped. A third cheered. And the room carefully filled with applause, soon enthusiastic (Blaine had a feeling the loudest cheers were coming from the New Directions, but couldn't find any fault in that as he clapped along). The principal approached the mic again, patting Kurt on the back as he did so, and announced that the prom king and queen would now share their first dance.
The applause this time was a little somber as the mass of students shifted slowly to allow a wide circle into which Kurt and Karofsky descended. Blaine saw the tense line running down Karofsky's frame, saw how his eyes darted jerkily across the room. It almost looked like Kurt was saying something to him - but Blaine couldn't be sure. Mercedes and Santana stood onstage, beginning the first notes of their song, and suddenly Karofsky had shaken his head, brokenly said something Blaine didn't hear because of the music, and walked off.
Kurt stood alone in the middle of his classmates.
Blaine's heart cleaved straight in two, looking at him standing there. He knew what he should do. He knew what he wanted to do. All he had to do… was do it. His mind immediately fought against it - he remembered cold concrete, warm blood, terrified screams - but he forced them away.
This was as much his battle as it was Kurt's. If he didn't go out there, if he didn't ask to accompany Kurt, if he didn't do something… He didn't deserve the boy who wore the crown. If he couldn't face his demons this once, he would only have another regret piled atop his thousand others.
Not this time.
He took a deep breath, forcing the air past the tightness in his throat, and walked out into the circle. People gasped a little as he passed, but Kurt hadn't seen him, Kurt was looking the wrong way.
Another deep breath. "Excuse me," he said, smiling as Kurt spun to see him. The hope he saw in those eyes was the only thing he needed to finish his request. "May I have this dance?" he asked, raising one hand.
Kurt smiled - God, did Blaine love it when he smiled - and agreed, "Yes. Yes you may." He took the offered hand, and slowly drew closer. Kurt placed a hand on Blaine's shoulder, Blaine put his hand on Kurt's back, and they clasped hands around the queen's scepter.
They danced.
Kurt was watching the crowd - Blaine couldn't blame him, stealing occasional glances himself - but mostly his eyes were for Kurt. And as they danced, he felt his fear loosen even more, overwhelmed by the feeling of having Kurt in his arms, dancing together, no matter where they were or who was watching. He moved a little faster, dancing more to the beat, and grinned. Kurt met his eyes, smiled as well, and Blaine playfully spun him around. Rachel passed onto the dance floor, quickly joined by several others, but the two boys weren't paying attention.
Kurt would not have the fear that Blaine did. Kurt would not have to worry about regretting this night. And maybe - Blaine grinned wider as the balloons bounced around them, stealing a long look at Kurt's face - maybe Kurt had helped Blaine get over his own fear.
'Maybe together,' Blaine thought, hand around Kurt's waist as they posed for their photo, 'we can make a difference.'