"You weren't supposed to die..." He whispers softly to the bird that was supposed to be his voice. And it had been, for the short amount of time in Kurt's company Pavarotti had been a great comfort to Kurt.
Kurt talked with him all the time, telling him about all the things he wasn't comfortable talking about with anyone else. All his fears, all his insecurities, the bird had heard it all.
Kurt even sang to him, in the comfort of his own room when everyone was out at lunch. Sang like he wanted to, but couldn't at Warbler practice. The bird had heard his every little complaint and though he would feel silly saying it out loud, he listened. Kurt was sure of it. Maybe he didn't understand Kurt. But he did listen. He could tell in the way that Pavarotti tweeted excitedly when Kurt showed him the newest fashion wear or when he chirped sadly when he told him about his steadily growing loneliness.
Just thinking about it causes a small sob to break free from his clenched teeth. He told the small bird things he wouldn't even tell Blaine. His grip on the cage tightens and his eyes widen with a horrifying realization.
Blaine! He was going to have to tell the Warblers! He was going to have to tell Blaine! They told him to protect Pavarotti and now he was dead.
"What do I do?" he asks the dead bird beseechingly, there is no reply.
He takes deep breaths to calm himself, stands up slowly, careful with the cage, and sets it gently down on his desk. The birds wings are flopped around it in a funny position, like he was trying to take a last small try at flight before death took him.
What if they blame him? They might think he wasn't taking care of Pavarotti. Blaine might think he wasn't taking care of Pavarotti. His stomach tightens, an ugly free-fall feeling tormenting it. He wraps his arms around himself, apprehensive. He begins to talk quietly, his voice higher than usual and coming in bursts of speed.
"Maybe, no one will have to know. I can hide this. I'm sure of it, I'll give you a proper burial sometime at night and—"
A knocking at his door interrupts him and he jumps, a small gasp escaping him.
"Kurt, can I come in?"
Blaine! It was Blaine at his door! Quickly moving into panic driven action Kurt hurriedly grabs the cage and rushes to his small closet, intending to hide the dead bird there.
Unfortunately in one of his clumsy moments that happen quite a lot when he gets anxious to such a high degree (though he would die before admitting it) he somehow manages to trip, rapidly falling toward his half open closet door; the cage in front of him would have taken most of the damage if he hadn't turned his body to protect it. He collides quite painfully with the door and with his momentum closes it, causing him to lose his grip on the cage.
"Ow..ow..ow."
All this creates quite a lot of noise, prompting Blaine to rush into the room, an "Are you alright?" already leaving his perfect lips. His eyes go from Kurt, who is on the floor, to the still Pavarotti who, in all the mayhem had partially fallen out of his cage, his head and left wing touching the carpet. He looks baffled and Kurt's head bows underneath his stare, shame and tears already beginning.
"Kurt...?" His voice prompts Kurt to look up and briefly lock tear filled eyes with him. That's all it takes.
"I-I'm so sorry! So so sorry! I just came in and I found him like this and I don't know what I did! I was feeding him and taking care of him just like they said!"
Kurt it horrified to realize that he's sobbing and babbling and his speech seems to be coming in sharps gasps but he just can not seem to stop.
"He was healthy yesterday! He was alive and happy and chirping and I was talking to him just yesterday! ...I don't know what happened. I don't know what I did." He was talking to the floor by this point, no longer able to face Blaine. He takes deep breathes to calm himself and it works to the point where he no longer sounds like he's on the verge of hyperventilation.
His voice calmer but still shaky, he begs, "I really don't know what happened. I hope you believe me. But if you don't—"
The arms that circle Kurt's now crouched form take him by surprise and he tenses reflexively.
"Hush, it's not your fault." Blaine's soft voice causes Kurt to relax slightly but mainly because he hears no contempt in it. "Pavarotti was going to die eventually and I know you were doing your best to take care of him."
Kurt becomes lax in his grasp, laying his head on Blaine's neck, feeling relief but that is quickly covered up by embarrassment. He doesn't normally lose control like this and apparently Blaine knows it too because he then releases Kurt and asks, "What's really the problem Kurt? I know we haven't had that much time to talk lately." Blaine's voice is gentle but insistent. He releases Kurt and holds him at arms length, gently taking his smaller hands in his own. Kurt feels a flicker of nerves but mostly he's just exhausted. Looking into Blaine's honestly concerned eyes, Kurt knows he's going to have to tell him the truth.
There was a part of him, he knew, that needed this. To unload all that's been bothering him because what Blaine said is true, they hadn't been hanging out as often as they had when he went to McKinley. And that was two hours away! Kurt had missed him. He felt like they were almost strangers now and he would do anything to erase that feeling.
"It's just everything happening all at once: coming to Dalton and having to leave my friends behind and now Pavarotti is gone...and you." The last is said in almost a whisper and Kurt feels angry bees in his stomach. He knows Blaine heard him by the distressed and sad expression that flickers on his face.
"What about me?" Blaine sounds worried as he brings his face closer to Kurt, almost invading his personal space. Kurt cheeks heat up and he contemplates lying for a second, telling him it was nothing or some other equally untrue statement but no, he needed to do this. He stares back at Blaine and forces the words out.
"Well from the time since I came here, I feel like we've become passing acquaintances at the most. I mean, I know we haven't known each other all that long but I really thought you were quickly becoming one of my closest friends, Blaine. I knew from the start that coming here wouldn't be easy but I had hoped having you with me would make up for most of it."
Kurt's vision is starting to become blurry and his eyes burn. He continues, no longer looking Blaine in the eye, his voice clear and strong all except for the slight tremble as well as a slight hoarseness due to his crying earlier.
"I guess I wasn't prepared for how different you would act toward me. I know that sometimes seeing a person everyday and every aspect of them can be off putting. Maybe especially in my case because—"
Kurt is once against cut of both warm arms circling him, but this time he accepts the comfort they bring him immediately, even bringing his own hands up to clutch at Blaine's uniform.
"Kurt, I was only doing that because I felt it would be wrong of me to smother you. I thought you might have needed to make some friends of your own without me there to interfere." Kurt is shocked, Blaine's voice actually sounds a little choked up, his tone earnest.
"I can see now that it was the wrong thing to do, at least without telling you my intentions first. I'm sorry." Blaine brings his lips to softly touch Kurt's forehead. "I never want you to think that I don't want you around. I always will." Kurt's feelings begin to overwhelm him and he's afraid he'll do something stupid like kiss Blaine, but it won't be on a friendly place like his cheek, so he says, "Thank you Blaine" with sincerity and changes the subject.
"About Pavarotti, do you think you can come with me to tell the other Warblers." Some anxiety must have shown through in his voice because Blaine squeezes him once and lets go.
"Of course and don't worry too much about it. I knew one Warbler who's bird got killed because their roommate decided it would be a good idea to bring a stray cat into their room."
Kurt chuckles lightly and goes to where Pavarotti is lying. He gets on his knees and lifts him up, puts the cage right side up and carefully places him back inside.
He's mostly composed now but he knows he must look horrid and there will be no Pavarotti to complain with later about it. He smiles sadly at the bird's corpse, inside his little prison.
"You know I was really bonding with Pavarotti. I told him all the things I couldn't tell anyone else. He really helped me, I didn't realize just how much until I found him like this." He tries to keep his voice light and nonchalant. Hands come to cover the ones Kurt has resting on the cage.
"And I'll always be thankful to him for that." Blaine says, serious, "But now I'll be here for you. You can tell me anything Kurt, I'm sorry you didn't know that before."
Kurt smiles, small but genuine, wondering how Blaine knew that was what he needed to hear before even Kurt did but Kurt also knew that there were some things that Kurt could only talk to Pavarotti about. After all talking with Blaine about the giant crush he has on Blaine isn't going to work.
"Come on. We should get some ice for that" He motions toward Kurt's cheek which is starting to bruise from his trip into the door. Kurt hadn't even noticed. "Then we can go tell them about Pavarotti and we'll have a small funeral for him. Then we'll have dinner, okay?" Blaine stands and helps Kurt up.. "Alright." Kurt agrees and let's himself be gently tugged out of the room by his elbow, Pavarotti's cage safety in his hold.
Disclaimer: I own nothing and make no profit from this.
A/N: Sososo, did you hate it? Like it a little? Please tell me why! This is my first glee fic and really the first fic ever that I finished...ever, a lot of false starts. Sad but true. Oh! And I had this flash of Kurt trying to buy Pavarotti fashionable clothes...I don't know why. I can picture Blaine telling him:
"I even saw that Vogue thing for Birds you showed him, which is weird because I don't know anything about Bird fashion, much less knew it existed."
And yeah... Thanks so much for reading and I hope your day/night is very pleasant :)