Karfskys in hospital.
Kurt was sitting in the common room when he got the text from Finn. He wasn't too sure how he was supposed to react.
Did Finn expect him to feel glad? Had Finn put Karofsky hospital? Did they – them being New Directions - expect Kurt to come back? How long was Karofsky in hospital for? Was there some kind of underlying message to this text? Did Finn expect him to be happy about it?
Was he happy about it?
Kurt didn't know how he felt. He wanted to ask Finn why Karofsky was in hospital, and why he had told him, but he didn't want to sound like he cared. Because he didn't, not really - but there was still some kind of deep, nagging feeling that reminded him of the pain he had seen in Karofsky's eyes. He thought of the nights he had lain awake in bed, wondering how Karofsky felt, what his motives were, how he needed help. He didn't care about Karofsky, not in the slightest, but there was always the guilt that he was the only one who knew what Karofsky was going through, but couldn't help him. He knew what the worst case scenario for Karofsky was. And if it happened, Kurt was scared that he would blame himself.
But he shrugged that thought off. It was too unlikely – Karofsky was probably just getting his tonsils out, and Finn probably just thought Kurt might get some pleasure out of knowing.
"Put your phone down," Wes said, leaning over the table and grinning. "Blaine asked you a question."
Blaine tapped the neck of the bottle that was pointing directly at Kurt and raised an eyebrow. "Truth or dare?"
"I can't believe you're doing this," Blaine said quietly. The engine of his car was still running, as though Blaine thought he could talk Kurt out of it. Kurt looked out of the dark tinted window and up at the expansive hospital building. The last time he had been here had been to visit his dad.
"Neither can I," he muttered, but as Blaine shut off the engine he got out of the car anyway. Much to Kurt's surprise, Blaine followed him.
"I'm coming with you," said Blaine as he put his school jacket back on, and when Kurt started to protest, interrupted. "I won't come into the room, because he'd hate that, but I'll stand outside. Sure, he might not be able to move, but I'm not taking any chances." Blaine didn't look Kurt in the eye as he spoke, but dug his hands into his pockets and looked up at the windows. Kurt knew how unhappy Blaine was about this whole situation. He wasn't particularly happy about it himself.
It took them a while to find the room – it wasn't anywhere near where Burt had been staying – but they found it eventually. They stood outside for a minute before Kurt readied himself with a long, deep breath.
"Are you sure about this?" Blaine asked, resting a hand on his shoulder.
"Positive," Kurt replied briskly, trying to mask his fear. "He doesn't have anyone. I just... need to talk to him for a minute." He swallowed. Blaine nodded and opened the door.
Karofsky lay on the hospital bed with his eyes shut, taped to a drip. There wasn't any bruising on his face, but his foot was raised above the bed in a cast, and Kurt knew the blanket covered the broken ribs. He looked peaceful. He must have been asleep.
Kurt cast a glance back towards the door, but it was shut. He knew Blaine was on the other side waiting for him, and that reassured him enough to take a few steps closer until he was standing directly next to Karofsky.
"Why did you do it?" he whispered down at him, his voice barely audible. He was surprised at how relaxed Karofsky looked. His jaw wasn't tight, his eyebrows weren't pinched; he looked like a completely different person. And he had lost a lot of weight – so much weight that it made Kurt feel a little ill.
Kurt walked around to the window and pulled up the visitor's chair. There were two magazines on the bedside table, but they looked untouched. Kurt couldn't decide whether this was because no one had visited, or because whoever had hadn't been interested in cars.
"You're an idiot," Kurt continued, talking blindly at the covers of the magazines. "An absolute oaf, you know that? That day when I came to you with Blaine, I wanted to talk you. I wanted to offer my support. I wanted you to know that you could come to me for help.
"I still don't know what you wanted from me, whether you – whether you stalked me because you liked me-" and here Kurt laughed dryly and tugged at his designer scarf "- because you were jealous, because hated me, or all of the above. I didn't, I don't, understand you at all. But nothing has ever scared me as much as you did. You scared me so much that I took my parents money and ran away. Something I swore I'd never do.
"I was too scared to stay and try and help. Even sitting here, right now, I'm scared you're going to wake up and strangle me or do something else ridiculously and inexplicably vindictive. This is your problem, Karofsky. If you hadn't driven people away, if you had let me help you, this wouldn't have happened!"
Kurt suddenly felt surprisingly angry. "You should have told someone! You didn't have to talk to me about it – you could have called the Trevor project, found friends online or spoken to your family. You should have stopped with the self pity and done something to help yourself!"
But Kurt knew he was a hypocrite. He hadn't told anyone about Karofsky and the way he bullied him. He had let it happen, let it drag him down, thinking he could handle it all by himself, thinking he was being brave. If Mr. Schue hadn't noticed, if he hadn't helped Kurt, who knew where Kurt might be now?
"Maybe I could have told someone," Kurt said quietly. "Maybe we could have found you someone to talk to. But I'm not going to let myself feel guilty for this, Karofsky. I feel terrible that you're in here, and want to help you. But I'm not going to blame myself. I don't owe you anything."
Kurt stood up and looked down at Karofsky. Karofsky's hair was a little longer than Kurt remembered it. But thinking back, Kurt couldn't actually remember what it used to look like, even though only a couple of months had passed. He had no idea what color eyes Karofsky had, or what he looked like when he smiled.
He didn't know this person. Why was he even here?
He flicked open the magazine, to show that someone had been there, and then left as quietly as he had come.
"Dare," Kurt said, finally finding the courage. It was Friday night again – Truth or Dare night for any Warblers who were stuck in the dorms for the evening. All night he had been picking truth, and Blaine and his friends - being the sweeties that they were - hadn't probed too deep. Seeing Wes strip to his underwear and sing Britney Spears' Toxic had terrified Kurt out of picking dare in the past; but he was getting bored of playing it safe.
"Ooooh," said a couple of the boys in unison. Blaine let out a low whistle.
"Taking a dare from Randy!" Thad exclaimed. "He's a brave one."
"Let's face it," said David. "We all know what this dare is going to be."
"What do you mean?" Kurt asked quickly, looking around. Had they been planning something from the beginning? But a couple of the guys were looking just as confused as Kurt, which made him feel a bit better. Blaine was looking at Randy with narrowed eyes.
Randy was grinning like a maniac, and held up a hand to hush everyone. He waited until everyone was quiet, leaning forward in anticipation, before speaking.
"Kurt, I dare you kiss Blaine." And suddenly the circle of boys erupted, some cheering, others laughing, until David started a chant of 'kiss, kiss, kiss' which everyone but Blaine and Kurt picked up.
They were all sitting in a circle on the common room floor by the fireplace, on their knees or with their legs crossed, some perched on pillows, others leaning on each other. Blaine was not quite opposite Kurt.
A naked Britney Spears A cappella suddenly didn't seem like such a bad idea.
Blaine was laughing and shaking his head, but he looked just as terrified as Kurt felt. "No way," he mouthed at Randy, and then at Kurt, "You totally don't have to do this."
"Screw that," said Randy. "Why should he get off on dares just because he's small and cute? He's not the terrified new kid anymore. You coddle him too much, Blaine." Someone cheered. Everyone was grinning now.
The 'kiss' chant, kept up by David and Stacy, turned into a low hiss - a background, almost musical sound. Someone pushed Kurt in the back, and when all he said was "Um," they gave him another shove so that he had to shuffle forward towards Blaine.
"Really," said Blaine above all the noise, "you shouldn't let asses like these guys make you kiss someone just for a game."
"As if you haven't made out with half of us for dares," David scoffed.
"A kiss is something special," Blaine pressed, looking at Kurt seriously. Kurt knew he was only saying this because Kurt hadn't exactly had many kisses before. Kurt knew Blaine had a long history of ex boyfriends and unmeaningful kisses, but he also knew that Blaine was well aware that a kiss meant more to Kurt than it did to him. "Don't waste it on someone you don't really like," Blaine continued, ignoring Stacy's attempt to push him towards Kurt.
Kurt's heart was pummeling away in his chest, and he knew he couldn't keep the fear off his face. But he arranged it into his best 'are you an idiot?' expression and said, somewhat high pitched as he made up his mind, "Are you really that blind?"
The moment his lips touched Blaine's and his hand cupped Blaine's ear the shouts and wolf whistling started, but Kurt barely heard it. The only thing in his world at that moment were Blaine's lips, and the image of Blaine's wide-eyed understanding before Kurt had leaned in for the kiss, that would be etched into his memory forever.
And the feeling of Blaine kissing him back, of his fingers resting on Kurt's waist and his other hand reaching up to brush Kurt's wrist, trailing from there up past the nape of his neck and into his perfectly styled hair.
This was his first kiss. And it was amazing.
"He's asleep," the nurse had said kindly, but had let him in anyway. Kurt hovered over Karofsky's bed again. He wasn't sure why he was here. He hadn't told Blaine he was coming this time. The magazines were gone, and had been replaced by a vase of drooping flowers.
"Why are you asleep?" Kurt muttered, turning the vase around so that the other side of the carnations could get more light. "It's the middle of the day." But secretly he was glad; he still wasn't sure if he could handle talking to Karofsky's face.
"I heard you're getting out in a few days," he said, looking out the window. "I guess that's why I'm here." Kurt sighed heavily. "Why I'll come back tomorrow too, and the next day if you aren't awake then.
"Don't get me wrong, I'm not doing this for you. My reasons for coming here are completely selfish. I don't want you to leave here without hearing what I have to say. I don't want to be sitting in class wondering how you are, whether or not you're going to do this to yourself again, and whether or not I could have done anything to prevent it. This is the only chance I have to talk to you without having to be afraid.
"And I need to understand you. I don't think I can ever stop being afraid until I do. Because I know you're not that kid, Karofsky. I know you're not insane, or the kind of kid who is just so messed up that they'll end up in jail the moment they get out of school. I could see it in your face. The fear, the confusion, the anger. You had good grades. Things were going great until you started bullying me.
"It's so obvious now." Kurt laughed dryly. 'You found out you were gay, and you were taking that anger out on me. You blamed me, because I was everything you hated in yourself."
"That's not it, you idiot," said a rough voice behind him. Kurt went stock still, unable to breathe or turn around.
"How long have you been awake?" Kurt whispered eventually, finding his voice.
Karofsky sighed behind him. "Since you came in," he said, sounding tired. "I was awake the other day too."
There was stretch of silence during which Kurt couldn't think, couldn't even find his thoughts. Closing his eyes and taking a deep breath, he turned around. When he opened them again, Karofsky was looking at him. His eyes were brown.
Kurt shook his head and opened his mouth, and gaped dumbly for a second before finally and quickly asking, "Why did you do it?"
Karofsky looked away, at the ceiling. He didn't say anything for a couple of seconds and his face was completely unreadable.
"I wanted to get closer to you," he said at last. His voice was quiet and steady. "Yeah. Yeah, sure, I was scared. I was scared of what people would think, of what they would say. But most of all, I was scared of you. Not because you could beat me up – you're not even half my size. But because there was no way you could actually – I mean, look at me! I'm the guy who has been giving you and your friends shit for years." He laughed humorlessly at the ceiling. "If I told people, if people found out, I wouldn't be like you. It wouldn't be that easy. You have your friends, your singing club or whatever. But those kind of people hate me. And the people who like me? They hate fags. I was pretty much fucked."
Kurt was more shocked that Karofsky was so easily admitting these things – to Kurt, no less! - than about what he was actually saying. He made to interrupt, but Karofsky kept talking.
"But I still needed to be close to you. I don't know why, okay? But I needed to see your face every day. I needed you to look at me. I needed to be a part of your life. And that was the only way to do it. And you know what? It fucking sucked. But it was better than being alone." He was silent for a moment, perhaps waiting for Kurt to say something, but Kurt suddenly couldn't find anything to say – it was like someone had come in and painted over all his neatly organized thoughts.
"So yeah, that's why I did it," Karofsky finished somewhat lamely, looking back towards the door and away from Kurt so that Kurt could barely see his face.
"That wasn't what I meant," Kurt said eventually, his expression pained. "Why did you take those pills, Karofsky? Why did you throw yourself down those stairs?"
"Because when you left, I had nothing," said Karofsky simply.
It was an awkward moment. Kurt didn't know how to take the confession. From anyone else, in any other situation, it would be flattering. From Karofsky, right now, it was terrifying – sickening. Even though Kurt knew it wasn't his fault, he felt guilty. Of course, he had passed it over as a likely possibility, but hearing it from Karofsky was different.
Kurt pulled up the chair and sat down, facing towards the foot of the bed, with his knees pulled up to his chest.
"We need to talk about how I can help you," he said carefully.
"I don't need your help, Hummel."
"It's all I can offer."
"What can you do?" Karofsky asked gruffly.
Kurt turned and looked at him, really looked at him. He held Karofsky's gaze and found that it took more courage to say the following words than it had to kiss Blaine the previous night.
"I can be your friend."
Author's Note: I'm not really sure what to say, except that if you didn't absolutely hate it, please let me know and motivate me to write the next chapter!
Edit: When you read without reviewing, I know, and it makes me sad. Maybe not as sad as Karofsky, but pretty sad. So leave me a review and make my day, okay?
Reviewers are amazing. Not quite as amazing as Kurt, but pretty darn amazing c: