Summary: Blaine needs to tell someone about his life. Who came into it and who went out. Even if the person is a stranger.
Hey guys! So this is a new story of mine. This idea (include a bunch more) was floating around in my head for a little while, so I decided to get it out and onto this computer. So this story has kind of a Forest Gump feel to it, but just a little tiny connection. This will be a Kurt and Blaine story, but just bear with me for the first few chapters, while everything gets set up. Um, if you want to see something happen throughout the story, review and say it. Maybe I'll put it in there. Okay, enough of me blabbing, get on to the first chapter of Don't Forget the Past.
Blaine wrapped his arms tightly against his torso. If you got close enough, you could practically feel the walls built up against his emotions. His hazel eyes were darting around as he walked down the long hallway, his father at his side. A large hand lay on the boys shoulder. He let it lay there, not having the energy to shake it off. His eyes glanced at a mirror as they passed it. The image of himself was cringe worthy, at most. The dark circles under his eyes indicated that the boy hadn't gotten a good night's sleep in days, maybe even weeks. His wrinkled apparel showed off how he hadn't been in the right mind for a long while. But, even with all of those signs, the thing that really showed off how out of his mind this kid really was, was his eyes.
Even with the beauty of the light brown mixture, you could easily see the sadness behind them. The guilt and even the fear shone brightly through the orbs.
He walked sluggishly, slumped down, compared to his usual perfect stand-up-straight posture.
What has happened to the visibly messed up boy? Why did he look like this? Why had his life crumbled down like a building effected by an earthquake? What made this boy a victim to his own life? A hostage to his fate?
Well, you know one thing: The answers must not be pretty.
…
The father and son finally stopped at a wooden door with a blurry window on the top portion of it. On the window said:
Dr. Rebeca Hills Councilor of the Clinically Depressed
Blaine frowned. He didn't want to be here. He didn't want to sit and talk to some woman that he's never met. Why did his father, which has never cared before, bring him to this dump of all places?
"Blaine," Mr. Anderson spoke, "I know that you don't want to be here, but please try, Buddy."
Blaine winced at the nickname his father had given him when he was a small child.
"We just want you to get better. Your mother and I… we think that talking about it to someone, will help you. We care, son." The older Anderson knocked on the door. They heard a faint "Come on in."
"You never cared before." Blaine snapped and entered the room abruptly, his father sighing heavily, and following in suit.
There was a woman sitting at a desk in the front of the room. She was visibly around mid-thirties. Her dark brown hair was wrapped into a bun. She had on an off-white fashionable pants suit, and a sparkly diamond ring on her finger. She stood up and walked over to the men and offered her hand to shake.
"Hello, my name is Dr. Hills. It's very nice to meet you." She said.
"Hi, my name is Andrew Anderson and-"
"You must be Blaine." Dr. Hills said, looking directly at Blaine, studying him.
Blaine started to feel unconfutable, pulling his gray cardigan together.
"Okay," She said, used to this behavior, "If you would come over sit, please" She pointed to the two chairs sitting in front of her desk.
Once they were all seated, she spoke again, directing her attention to Blaine again. "So, Blaine. Before we start our sessions, I like to get to know my clients. Could you tell me some things about yourself?"
Blaine stared blankly at the woman.
"Okay, so you have any hobbies, are you in any clubs at school?" She tried again.
He stared again for a second, then answered, "Singing."
"Oh, so you like to sing, huh? Are you in a show choir or glee club at school?"
"Yeah. I was." Blaine said in a quiet voice.
"Okay, could you tell me what kind of songs you like to sing or what music you listen to?" Dr. Hill asked softly.
"… Katy Perry."
"Oh, Katy Perry. What's your favorite song of hers?"
He hesitated for a second, then said, his voice breaking slightly, "Teenage Dream."
Dr. Hill wrote something down on her note pad, instantly noticing something was very special about this certain song. "Hmm… Is there something special about the song that makes it your favorite?"
"… How'd you know?"
She shrugged her shoulders slightly. "Just a lucky guess."
"Yes. There is something special about that song."
Bingo. "And what's so special?"
"… None of your business."
"Blaine." Mr. Anderson said sternly.
Doctor Hill waved her hand. "No, it's perfectly fine. You don't think that you don't know me well enough to hear your secrets. But you need to tell someone someday, Blaine. And I would be honored if you would let that be me."
Blaine looked away, suddenly finding the floor carpet very interesting.
Doctor Hill wrote some things down on a slip and handed it over to him. "I think that will be all for today. I'd like to see you this time next week. Alone." She added pointedly at Mr. Anderson.
"Thank you." Andrew said. "Come on, son."
Blaine stood up and walked out of the room behind his father, not even looking back, already dreading next Thursday's appointment.
Okay, guys, hopefully a good start. Please review and say if I should continue! Favorite and follow if ya want to also. *wink, wink*
Thanks for reading!
(Hopefully) TBC
xxKurtcoBlainexx