The setting was fitting: gray and misty, on the verge of rain, air close and suffocating. He debated going; after all, it had been years since they last spoke. And why open new wounds when the old ones had yet to heal?
He wasn't really sure what had happened between them. One day everything was fine; the next, he was pushed away with no explanation why. He kept replaying that final conversation, trying to find any semblance of reason behind Kurt's abrupt change of heart, but he always came up short.
"Blaine, I can't do this anymore."
"Do what?"
"This. Us. I'm feeling… trapped."
"What?"
"I want to meet new people. I'm too sheltered here with you."
"No. No, you don't mean that. We're fine; we've never been better. What would make you think otherwise?"
"I just think… I think I need a break from this."
"Did I do something? What did I do? I'll change, I promise. Whatever it is, I'll do it. I'll do anything. Tell me what to do to make you stay. Please don't leave me, Kurt. I love you. I need you. I can't live without you. I…"
"Blaine, don't make this harder than it already is."
"I just don't understand!"
"I'm sorry, Blaine. I really am. I'm sorry."
"Kurt, don't get up, don't leave! Please, Kurt!"
"Bye, Blaine."
"Kurt, no…"
"…"
"Kurt…"
"…"
Blaine couldn't fathom why Kurt wanted to break up. They hadn't had a serious argument, there was no tension between them… Why, why, why? It was the question that kept him up at night after they broke up. Maybe Kurt had already met someone, and he didn't want Blaine to know he was cheating on him. After all, Kurt had moved on pretty quickly. Several days after their split, Blaine passed him walking hand in hand with a blonde jock, smiling and laughing, totally ignoring Blaine, if he had even seen him. It had torn Blaine apart, a knife of betrayal cutting through his heart.
He dreaded seeing Kurt with his new boyfriend. But it was the price he had to pay if he wanted to see Kurt at all. Still, the thought of them together made Blaine's heart ache. And, truth be told, he was jealous. Since when was Kurt into jocks? Most were stereotypically self-centered jerks, and Blaine was convinced this guy fit that description perfectly. Kurt could do so much better. He deserved better. He deserved Blaine.
Maybe it would be for the best if he forgot the whole thing and just left. He could walk away right now, leave these wrought-iron gates he had not yet brought himself to pass through, never look back. But that was his problem; all he could do was look back, back on all his memories of them together, of the love he felt whenever he thought of Kurt, of the pain he felt, knowing Kurt could move on while Blaine remained stuck in the past.
And he worried that his being there would make things worse. He knew Kurt would be suffering, and what if seeing Blaine did more harm than good? Kurt was in a precarious state, and any unexpected variable, say, the unannounced appearance of his ex, could send him over the edge.
He had to make a decision: stay or leave. Though really, the decision had already been made, and he was just stalling. Would he have come all this way just to turn around? No. One way or another, he was going to be there for Kurt. He vowed to stay off to the side, far enough away so Kurt wouldn't see him, but close enough for Blaine to see his love again.
His feet, heavy in his matte black dress shoes, trudged their way through the gates and up the path. His heart, too, was heavy, sinking into his stomach with grief and nerves. The thin black tie around his neck felt like it was choking him. He yanked at it, a little too aggressively, somehow managing to twist the knot around itself. He blew out a frustrated sigh and pulled the knot out altogether. He flipped up his collar and readjusted the tie before folding the collar back down and retying the knot. He smoothed his hands down his shirt, as if to brush out any wrinkles that may have formed. He buttoned his suit jacket, but it made him feel constricted, like he couldn't breathe, so he unbuttoned it and left it open.
The crunch of the gravel beneath his feet became too loud in the peaceful silence, so Blaine stepped onto the grass and made his way up the hill from there. He spotted the small gathering and marveled at how cinematic the whole scene seemed from far away: silhouettes of mourners against a gray backdrop, the few living surrounded by the many dead. It would have been almost beautiful, had it not been so sad.
He knew this day would come eventually. After all, you can only escape death so many times when your cells turn cancerous. Burt had been lucky to live as long as he did, but his cancer came back one too many times, and the final time, it refused to surrender to treatment. Blaine had been devastated when he heard the news, because he knew how close Kurt was to his father and how close he himself had been to Burt. Burt had treated Blaine like a son, and losing him was like losing a parent of his own. He couldn't imagine the grief Kurt must be feeling.
He skirted gravestones as he reached the top of the hill. The funeral guests were still several yards away, but he saw Kurt immediately. It was as if all the years of icy silence melted away, and Blaine fell in love with him all over again. It took all his willpower not to run to him and pull him into an inescapable embrace.
I wanna sleep next to you. But that's all I wanna do right now.
But he couldn't do that. He saw the blonde jock standing next to Kurt, a hand meant to be comforting awkwardly patting his shoulder. Even at this distance, Blaine could tell the guy was uncomfortable. As he made his way closer, he imagined confronting the jock, calling him out on his fake compassion, and fighting him for the honor of Kurt's love. But this was neither the time nor place for something like that. Instead, Blaine averted his eyes and focused on blending in with those on the edges of the group.
The Hummels were not religious, so there was no funeral, per se. In place of a traditional funeral, there was a brief service at the cemetery, a celebration of life. Grief was rampant among the guests, but no one's came close to Kurt's. His pale skin was an ashen shade not un-similar to the sky above. The skin beneath his eyes was puffy and simultaneously red and black: red from the crying, black from the sleep loss. His cheeks sunk in, and his suit hung off his slight frame. His grief had turned him into a skeleton, something Blaine hadn't seen from far away but could see now as he let his gaze return to his former lover.
And I wanna come home to you. But home is just a room full of my safest sounds.
Blaine didn't hear the words that were being spoken. He doubted Kurt did, too. Though he knew the words would be as secular as possible, focusing on Burt's life and not his afterlife, if there was such a thing. But the nods of the people around him signaled that the message was something somberly uplifting.
It reminded Blaine of the last funeral he had attended. Finn's. Everyone who had spoken about Finn's life and his impact had held back tears, sometimes choking on their words as emotions tried to crawl their way out. He had given a small eulogy, fixing his eyes on Kurt's teary ones the entire time, willing himself to keep it together. It had been hard, but Finn was almost like a brother to him, too, and he owed it to Kurt.
Kurt had lost so much in his life: first his mother, then his brother, and now his father. In a way, he had lost Blaine, too, but that was one loss Kurt had control over and could have prevented.
Blaine had grieved over losing him, over losing their relationship. Initially, Blaine had curled up on his bed and spent several days crying into his pillowcase, blasting every sad, angst-filled song he knew. Then he went through a period of denial, pretending as if nothing had happened, and that they were still together. He found one of Kurt's scarves in his dresser and tied it around a stuffed bear. He spoke to it, imagining it spoke back in Kurt's voice. They watched movies together, Blaine hugging the bear close to him, pretending he could feel Kurt's heartbeat within the lifeless stuffing. The nights were the worst, because whenever sleep came, so did the recurring nightmare that forced Blaine to relive the breakup again and again, until he woke up crying. It took all of his imagination to project the feeling of a tight embrace and the sounds of soothing words from an inanimate object, and it rarely worked to lull him back to sleep.
'Cause you know that I can't trust myself with my 3 a.m. shadow. I'd rather fuel a fantasy than deal with this alone.
Blaine was lucky that anyone who would recognize him, glee kids mostly, clustered close to Kurt, and he could hide behind people that must have been Burt's employees or friends. The few women in the group dabbed at their faces with tissues, gently so as not to wipe away their makeup. He saw Carol standing on the other side of Kurt and reflected on how much she had lost as well: two husbands and a son. Even though she and Kurt weren't related through blood, they were bonded together through their shared tragedies.
Blaine found a gap through which he could see Kurt and only Kurt. That was all he wanted to see anyway.
I wanna sleep next to you. But that's all I wanna do right now. So come over now and talk me down.
The group shifted, and Blaine deduced that the service was coming to a close. He saw Kurt kneel to the ground in front of his father's grave, a hand to his face to conceal the grief that was written across it. Murmurs of condolences filled the air, which Kurt accepted with a slight nod of his head, never looking away from the grave. Some placed flowers on the lid of the coffin, knowing full well that their blossoms would shortly wither and die, just as everything living must, but still bestowing them as a sign of remembrance.
Blaine knew he had to leave now before he was seen. He turned to go, looking back at Kurt one last time. The boyfriend rested a hand on Kurt's shoulder, and Kurt lifted his hand up to cover it, silently thanking him for the support. Then the boyfriend moved away, and Blaine swore there was relief on his face, relief that he no longer had to share in the grief he didn't feel. Kurt clearly wanted to be left alone to say his final goodbyes to his dad, but that stupid jock didn't have to look so pleased to be leaving.
Blaine longed to go back and be the one who put his hand on Kurt's shoulder, but he couldn't do that. So instead, he continued back down the way he had come.
It was funny how sadness had brought them together and now tore them apart. After all, it had been death that had made Blaine realize his love for Kurt in the first place. Pavarotti's death had affected Kurt more than any of the other Warblers. Sure, he symbolized their dedication to music, but he was just a bird to the rest of the boys. Not to Kurt. To Kurt, he had been a friend, worthy of grief and a song in his honor, a song during which Blaine's heart discovered what it felt like to be in love.
And they had shared their first kiss over the bejeweled box that was to be Pavarotti's final home. Kind of insensitive when put that way, but Blaine had been overcome with passion and Kurt had given in easily.
There had been a funeral then, too. Just the two of them beside a tiny grave, staring down at the dirt under a leafless tree. And afterwards, Blaine had offered his hand, and Kurt took it, ready to move on as long as he had Blaine by his side. Blaine could practically feel the coolness of Kurt's hand against his skin even now.
I wanna hold hands with you. But that's all I wanna do right now.
Blaine hated to admit it, but he rushed headfirst into the relationship, speeding things along the entire way. He couldn't explain it; Kurt made him feel things he'd never felt before, and it made him irrational and impulsive. Blaine remembered when he first told Kurt he loved him. Over coffee at the Lima Bean, of all places. He hadn't meant for it to slip out like it did; he was just so mesmerized by Kurt that he said it without thinking. He had been toying with the thought for days, wondering if they were ready for those words to be spoken. Maybe it had been too soon; Kurt had looked surprised, nearly choking on his coffee, but he reciprocated the sentiment.
And he had pushed them into their first time, too. Kurt wasn't ready. Blaine knew that, but he had planted the idea, and Kurt went along with it. The night had begun timidly, and Blaine continuously told Kurt they could stop at any time if he was uncomfortable. But Kurt forged ahead, assuring him he wanted to do it, ready or not. And it was worth it. The two of them had never been so close, and afterwards as they stared into each other's eyes, they no longer needed words to express their love for each other.
And I wanna get close to you. 'Cause your hands and lips still know their way around.
Blaine ran his hand along a dark gray stone, needing the cold it gave off to bring him back to reality. It was so easy for him to slip into the past, into his memories, where it was safer. He turned around and could just make out Kurt's crouched figure still bent over his dad's grave. What if he went back? Just for a moment, just to show Kurt that he still cared about him, to show him he was there to support him. To tell him how much he missed him, needed him, loved him.
He reflected on that Christmas when the cancer had first appeared and the promise he had made to Kurt that he would keep an eye on Burt's condition. He had promised that even though they weren't together anymore, because he still cared about Kurt and hoped one day he would be forgiven. And he was. They had returned to that familiar place where the two of them became one and nothing could tear them apart. Nothing except a jock against whom Blaine didn't measure up.
He had a vivid picture appear in his head, vibrant colors painting him and Kurt entwined as they were meant to be. But then an image of the jock burst onto the canvas, and suddenly the colors streaked and blurred into a surrealist style mess, breaking the figures apart into shapes that no longer fit together against a backdrop that no longer made sense.
No, he couldn't go back. Like he told himself before, it wouldn't help either of them heal.
And I know I like to draw at night; it starts to get surreal. But the less time that I spend with you, the less you need to heal.
He saw Kurt stand, wiping at his face. Blaine wished he could kiss his tears away and taste their salty sadness. Kurt slowly moved away from the grave, glancing back one more time before starting down the hill. Blaine quickened his pace, darting between gravestones, putting distance between them.
I wanna sleep next to you. But that's all I wanna do right now. So come over now and talk me down.
Blaine came to a set of concrete steps. They were built into the side of a grassy incline and overlooked a section of the cemetery. He sat down on the top one and let his eyes scan the scene before him. It was a beautiful cemetery, if such a thing could be said. It was picturesque, all gray and white stones, some with ornate statues, arranged in rows intercut by gravel paths that branched off the main paved road like veins in a leaf. Blaine leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees, drinking it all in.
He let his eyes do that thing where they would focus for so long that everything became blurry. So when he felt the light touch of fingertips on his shoulder, he jumped a little. He looked up and blinked his eyes several times to make sure they were seeing again, because what he saw was Kurt.
Blaine leapt to his feet. His mouth dropped open in an expression of shock. They both stared at each other, and Blaine reached out a hand and laid it against Kurt's cheek to prove he was real. The smoothness of his skin felt like butter. He took his hand away and placed both palms on Kurt's chest, steadying both of them.
So if you don't mind, I'll walk that line. Stuck on the bridge between us.
Blaine searched Kurt's face for an explanation. He wanted to scream at him, curse at him for cutting him out of his life so suddenly, yet he also wanted to kiss him until their lips went numb and whisper "I love you" over and over. But he didn't speak or move, afraid that whatever he said or did would be wrong and would ruin the moment.
Gray areas and expectations. But I'm not the one if we're honest, yeah.
Instinct took over, and Blaine pulled Kurt forcefully into his arms. Kurt let himself be pulled, falling into the hug. He rested his head on Blaine's shoulder, letting the tears drip into the fabric of his suit jacket. Blaine clutched Kurt's back tightly, not wanting to let him go now that he finally had him again.
Kurt wept as Blaine held him close. But the moment was over too soon. Blaine saw movement out of the corner of his eye and dropped his arms, pulling back. Kurt straightened, and they both looked to the main road, where Kurt's boyfriend stood, a look of disgust and hurt on his face. Kurt was stoic in spite of his guilt, but rather than stay with Blaine, he gave him a sad look and made his way down the steps to his boyfriend. The blonde grabbed Kurt's arm roughly, yanking him away. Kurt looked back once more at Blaine, his eyes longing and face anguished. Blaine stood frozen as Kurt was torn out of his life once again.
But I wanna sleep next to you.
It wasn't right. Kurt was obviously unhappy with his new relationship, and he had leaned into Blaine's embrace like it was the only thing holding him up.
And I wanna come home to you.
Blaine worried that the relationship was abusive. After all, he could practically feel the blonde's forceful grip on Kurt's delicate arm. And it would explain why Kurt went crawling back to him like an abashed puppy, rather than declare his true love for Blaine. He was scared of what his abuser would do if he refused to go to him.
I wanna hold hands with you.
The situation was painfully ironic: Kurt left Blaine because he felt trapped, and now he really was. He couldn't escape the physical or emotional grip the jock had on him. Kurt looked back at Blaine once more before he was dragged out of view.
I wanna be close to you.
Blaine heaved a heavy breath and walked down the steps, onto the road, and out of the cemetery. He ran a hand through his hair, not caring if it ruined his carefully sculpted coif. His emotions were running wild, and he needed to go somewhere he could be alone to sort through them. He'd been a fool to come here, because he had known it would end in more heartbreak, yet he did it anyway.
There was a lookout not far from here, one he and Kurt had visited together a few times. It was part of a park with walking trails, and together they had discovered a little-known outcrop. It was sometimes a treacherous walk down to it; a layer of dead leaves often covered the wide stone steps leading down to the fenced-in area overlooking the river and the bridge across it. But the view was worth it. They would climb up on the rocks and perch there together, watching cars cross the bridge and water lap gently against the riverbank. Blaine had gone there alone, after their break-up, to reflect somewhere he would be uninterrupted.
Blaine made the drive in silence. The radio, his usual companion, was turned off. He pulled into a parking area and made his way down the trail that led to their secret spot.
Before he even got there, he knew something was off. Hairs on the back of his neck stood up in warning, sensing the wrongness in the air. He soon discovered the source of the apprehension. The steps were roped off with caution tape, and a sign warned that the fence was being replaced and it was not safe to go down. Blaine stared at the tape, then glanced around, looking for witnesses before ducking underneath. He wouldn't go near the fence; that was around the edge, and the rocks he and Kurt sat on were safely back away.
The leaves blanketing the steps were piled a couple inches thick, so Blaine focused his eyes downward on his progress, sliding his feet forward carefully. It was slow going, but he didn't want to risk falling.
He reached the bottom, breathing heavy from the physical exertion. He lifted his head up, and time and his heart stopped. There was Kurt, at the unfenced edge, hovering unsteadily. A slight breeze blew the tails of his jacket behind him, fluttering like the wings of a bird ready to take flight. Blaine saw him lean forward ever so slightly, hesitantly, in case he decided to change his mind at the last minute. But from here, it looked like Kurt had already made up his mind and was all too willing to let the force of gravity carry him down the side of the cliff.
Blaine felt like he was running in slow motion, terrified that he wouldn't make it to Kurt in time. Kurt leaned forward even more, arms out.
"No!" Blaine wasn't sure if it had come out as a scream, a whisper, or at all. Time picked up speed again, and he slammed into Kurt from the side, knocking them both to the ground several feet from the edge. The impact jolted both of them.
Kurt looked up at the figure that pinned him to the ground, dazed. His heart pounded and he felt sweat trickle down his forehead, both from the adrenalin that had guided him to the edge of that cliff (and almost off of it) and from the shock of seeing his savior. Blaine. He reached a shaking hand up to brush a loose curl away from Blaine's face. He felt soft skin against his fingers. Blaine was real; Kurt hadn't been sure.
"Kurt." Blaine's voice was hoarse and raspy. He let out a sob, a piercing sound in the silence of nature.
"Blaine."
"You… Why…?"
"I wanted to die, Blaine. I can't do this anymore. Dad's death, Matt's abuse… I just want to be free from it all."
I knew he was abusive, Blaine thought. Then he noticed the dark mark on Kurt's jaw. "Did he hit you?"
Kurt nodded, biting his lip. Blaine traced the bruise's outline with his fingertips, and Kurt shivered at the touch.
"Kurt, you should have told someone."
"I couldn't. I was too scared."
"Is that why you came here? Because you were scared?"
"Yes. Matt was furious after seeing the two of us together, and he..." Kurt heaved a shuddery breath. "He swore if he ever saw us together again, he'd kill both of us. So I decided to save him the trouble, while protecting you in the process. After all, if I'm already dead, he can't kill me. And then he'd have no reason to kill you. Because what do I have to live for? I have no one."
"Me," Blaine said softly. "You have me."
Kurt shook his head. "No, I don't. Matt saw to that. He saw something he wanted, and Matt gets what he wants. So he told me to end it between us, cut all ties, never speak to you again. I was weak, so I agreed. That was before I knew the real Matt, the scary Matt, the Matt that made me feel miserable and hate myself. I was flattered that he was interested in me, that someone like him wanted to be with someone like me. I thought I was being too safe, always coming back to you, too afraid to step out of my comfort zone and date other people.
"Matt tried to convince me that the relationship I had with you was the abusive one. He told me that you were manipulating my emotions, and that was why I always crawled back to you. And I believed him, not realizing that he was the one doing the manipulating. I was just so stupid when I was with him, so gullible, so willing to accept his lies as truth.
"He knew what he was doing. He saw an easy target, took aim, and hit the bullseye. Once he built me up, he did everything he could to tear me down. I could have handled the verbal abuse. Words are easier to block than fists. All you have to do is sing a little bit louder to drown out the insults, and those words can't touch you. But hands and feet can. Sure, there were good times, happy times. I kept thinking that those happy times would outweigh the bad times and that I could forget the pain he caused me. But I was so, so wrong. And add a little alcohol into the mix, and Matt was even worse. He hurt me in ways I could never imagine, and that made me realize that I had caused similar pain in you. And the pain of that thought hurt the most, knowing that I had made you hate me."
Blaine felt hot tears dripping from his eyes. "Kurt… I am so sorry. That sounds horrible. I can't imagine. And yes, I have been hurting ever since you left me. But I don't hate you. I never, not for a moment, stopped loving you, even though it seemed like you had stopped loving me."
"Never," Kurt breathed. "I wanted to return to you in the worst way, but I couldn't risk what Matt would do. He had killed every chance of us getting back together and killed my only source of happiness… hope. But seeing you today… It gave me a little bit of that hope back. Somehow it made me feel a little better, despite all of the sadness and pain. You were so… there. Feeling you against me, I felt… I felt alive again."
Blaine wrapped his arms around Kurt, cradling his frail form. "I just wish you would have come to me, so it wouldn't have gone this far. Kurt, you almost died. Did you ever think about how much worse that would have been for me?"
"I'm sorry. All I could think about was escaping my own pain. I couldn't face his rage again. I couldn't take any more abuse, I… I needed the pain to stop. He broke me, and I just felt so… alone."
"But you're not alone. Not anymore. I'm here, and I will never leave you. I know I can never heal your emotional scars, nor can I take away the pain from your physical ones. But I will do whatever I can to put you back together, to make you whole, to make you alive again."
Kurt smiled and brought his lips to Blaine's. "You already have."
But I wanna sleep next to you. And that's all I wanna do right now. And I wanna come home to you. But home is just a room full of my safest sounds. So come over now and talk me down.