A Dark World Aches for a Splash of the Sun
One more spoon of cough syrup now, whoa-oh-oh.
The music faded to silence. Blaine collapsed onto the microphone stand, breathing heavily. He didn't know he was crying until his vision blurred. He blinked furiously, searching for Kurt as the watery haze dissipated. The older boy still sat on the stool, his own glasz eyes shining. Blaine wanted to say something, anything to make the beautiful boy stop crying, but he couldn't when he himself was still teary-eyed.
Kurt seemed to understand his distress, because after a minute he stood and crossed over to Blaine. The second his arms wrapped around him, the younger boy crashed to the ground. He sobbed uncontrollably into his boyfriend's shoulder, clinging to him as tightly as physics would allow. He didn't notice the band leave, nor the lights turn back on, nor Kurt slowly move him into his lap. All he felt was Kurt's hand on his back and the prickle on his wrist and the fear and the pain and the guilt.
After an immeasurable period of soothing hushes in his ear and a firm, rhythmic hand on his back, Blaine's sobs quieted into hiccups. He pulled his head from the crook of Kurt's neck and looked at the older boy. He could see by the redness rimming his eyes that Kurt, too, had been crying, but the senior smiled at him softly.
"You okay?" Kurt whispered, keeping Blaine close.
Blaine shook his head. "I need to tell you something." He slid out from Kurt's lap and sat cross-legged in front of him, keeping both of their hands intertwined. "You know about the Sadie Hawkins dance, about the week in the hospital, about my transfer to Dalton. What you don't know is..." He took a deep breath. "...in between being released from the hospital and moving to Dalton, my dad made me go back to school. He said I needed to man up and face my problems." Kurt gasped nearly inaudibly, but Blaine blocked the sound out. "The bullying was...unreal. It wasn't even bullying anymore. It was abuse. I had three bones rebroken and a near-constant black eye.
"It just...got to be too much. One night—a Thursday, I remember, because the thought of one more day before the weekend nearly killed me itself—I decided to...give up. My parents were at a dinner function, and Cooper was at Dalton. I took my painkillers and my razor and got in a bath. I swallowed the bottle and...cut. Deep. There was so much blood." Blaine's voice was below a whisper, and a single tear trailed down his nose. "I was just about to slip away when Coop came in. He'd forgotten his iPod charger—why it was in the bathroom I'll never know—and he found me. I remember him yelling right before I blacked out. I woke up a day and a half later in the hospital."
Utterly broken by the story, Kurt leaned forward and pressed his forehead to Blaine's. "I love you," he breathed. "I love you I love you I love you."
Blaine smiled weakly. "Because I was so young, the hospital mandated a month of therapy. It helped. I moved to Dalton, spent the rest of my brother's senior year with him, and things...got better." His smile grew slightly. "Know when things got good enough for me to stop seeing my therapist?" Kurt shook his head. "About a week after I met you." They both laughed breathily. "I met you, and suddenly...things made sense. Nothing hurt as much. I haven't felt that darkness in a long time. And I just...I felt like sharing that with you."
Kurt pressed his lips to Blaine's, holding the younger boy's face in his hands. "I love you so much. Thank you for—for trusting me with this information. Sometimes I feel like there's no balance in this relationship, that I lean on you more than you lean on me, and I'm glad I can be there for you." He touched their foreheads together once more. "I'm also really, really glad your brother found you. If I hadn't've had you...I might not be here today either."
Unsure of how to reply to that—unsure if he even should—Blaine embraced his boyfriend, squeezing him tightly. When they pulled apart, Blaine looked around and chuckled brokenly. "I forgot we were on the stage. We should probably get going; we need to figure out what to do about Sebastian."
Kurt nodded and stood. He stretched out a hand to his boyfriend and lifted him to his feet. Then the two walked off stage, hand in hand.
Needed your daily Blangst fix? Well it looks like you came to the right place. I dedicate this one-shot of depressitude to SeptemberLoveStory, my best friend and brain twin, who wouldn't stop hounding me until I wrote it. I mean, I know this is only one of sixteen million stories concerning Blaine and "Cough Syrup," but still, I needed to say my piece about it. It's short, and doesn't really say much, but whatevs. It was something for me to do during AP Chemistry OTHER than AP Chemistry. I hope you liked it.
TUMBLR IS klainebowsandquirrelmort.