So I got sick at school today and felt like writing some Klaine.
Blaine is dying. It's the only solution for what's going on in his body right now.
Even Google said he was dying.
It stated in first hour. Spanish with the sexy new teacher was definitely a good reason to get up int he morning, but he just couldn't keep his eyes open. The irregular verbs should be easy peasy to translate, but the worksheet sat in front of him. Empty. He couldn't stand to look at the tiny text. His brain pounded against his skull and the commotion in the room was just too loud. Every time Mike scraped his pencil against the paper, Blaine wanted to cry. And Die.
It was okay for a few hours. Blaine could deal with the headache. It would probably go away in a couple hours...right?
No. Not even close.
It's English class and Blaine finds himself half-passed out against Sam in the back of the room. They were watching "A Streetcar Named Desire", a film Blaine has watched with Kurt on one of their classics nights. Kurt. The thought of Kurt just made his body ache a little more than it already did.
Stanley shouted something in the film and the sound penetrated his senses, tossing his brain and springing tears to his eyes. He brought a hand up, wiping the tears from his cheek.
"Dude." Sam's disapproving voice was soft in Blaine's ear.
"'s fine." Blaine mumbled, shifting closer to the crook of Sam's arm where he rested. Despite all the muscle, Sam's chest was soft, comfortable, warm.
" Look, let me take you to the nurse." Sam whispered, frowning when Blaine shook his head lightly.
"Can't miss class."
"Dude, you're dying..."
"Sam..." Blaine moaned, "Please."
Sam grumbled and moved his arm. Blaine groaned, but then sighed happily when Sam scooted closer, wrapping his arm around Blaine's shoulders so he could rest more comfortably on his chest. Sam practically had to carry Blaine to his next class. Now, Sam had a different class that hour, so he reluctantly handed him off to Tina and hurried to guitar class with Mr. Schue.
Half way through class, while Mr. Schue was helping Kitty with chords, Sam's phone buzzed in his pocket.
-9-1-1 BLAINE DOWN IN ENGLISH HALLWAY!1
Without bothering to put his guitar back in its case, Sam ran out of the door. The English hallway was right around the corner from the choir room. Oh man. When he rounded the corner, Tina was on her knees, Blaine's head resting in her lap. His bag had spilled all over the floor and his face was flushed, sweaty and drawn up in pain. His breath was coming out in rasps and his hands were shaking in Tina's.
"Damn."
He rushed over, shoving the strap of Blaine's bag off his shoulder. "Get his stuff, Tina." he ordered, wrapping an arm under Blaine's knees and one around his shoulders, hoisting him in the air. Blaine moaned and brought his arm up, wrapping a small, weak fist in Sam's flannel overlay.
"Blaine, you're going home."
Blaine mumbled something, but it was swallowed by the fabric over Sam's chest.
"Shit Dude, sorry!" Finn said, fumbling to catch Blaine before he collapsed against the door frame.
"'sokay." Blaine said, falling into Finn's arms as he dragged him in the house. Finn stumbled under the weight and helped Blaine to collapse onto the couch. He moaned as the breath was knocked out of him and almost burst into tears with the pressure that pounded through his skull.
"Oh my god! Finn?!" Blaine cried out and Finn's head snapped up at the sound of his mom's voice. Her mouth was gaping and her eyes wide and worrying. She tried to glance around the back of the couch at the crying heap curled up on the cushions.
"Mom! Um...I can explain?" Finn rubbed the back of his neck and grimaced when his mom stared at him like he's a criminal.
"What are you-oh Blaine." Carole's voice trailed off as she couched beside the crying boy. Blaine whimpered and clutched at Carole as she helped him to his feet.
"What's wrong baby?" Carole brushed the hair, now de-gel'd from the sweat drenching his forehead, away from Blaine's face. He unconsciously leaned into the touch and started gasping for air, trying to speak to Carole.
"Sinus cold and- throat swelling and-migraine- and nauseous" Blaine's voice faded into cries and gasps.
"Oh baby, let's get you to the bathroom." Carole helped the boy to his feet and ushered him up the stairs.
Kurt pressed the play button on the DVD player and plopped down on the couch, popcorn in hand. IT was raining outside today, and Rachel was at NYADA, waiting to take the train back with Santana after her dance class.
Perfect weather for an rom-com marathon.
The movie was just getting to the cute-meet when his phone sounded from the kitchen. He heard the ringtone and groaned a little.
What did Finn even want?
After another ring Kurt groaned and ran over, answering the call.
"Kurt Hummel's phone."
"Awe man, mom..." Kurt's eyebrows furrowed at the sounds in the background. Was Carole sick?
"Finn!" Kurt shouted, hoping to get the giant's attention.
"Oh, Kurt. - mom, Kurt's on the phone, is he done puking?"
"Finn, what's going on?" Kurt said and perched against the countertop.
"Man, Blaine's like, dying or something he-"
"Kurt?" a new voice interrupted Finn, Carole.
"Yes Carole?"
"Blaine's really sick, and he wanted to talk to you."
"oh..." Kurt trailed off, swallowing the pang in his chest. Just friends...Just friends. Kurt crossed his free arm across his chest and strolled into his room, sliding the curtain closed. Carole was talking to someone off the phone. Her tone was soothing and Kurt could have sworn he heard the word 'baby' a couple times.
The line was silent for a while and Kurt heard a bunch of rustling. Okay, while Blaine was...just his friend, Kurt still cared. He cared so much. There was an unsettled feeling in his chest right now, but also a sinking feeling in his stomach. He heard distant cries in the background as the phone was rustled around and couldn't' deny the hurt in his chest right now. The need to be there, to hold Blaine as he cried was almost an instinct and that instinct was rearing its ugly little head right now.
After a few moments of agonizing silence, the phone was picked up again.
"Kurt?" Blaine's voice moaned from the other side of the line.
"H-hey B."
"Kurt, Kurt it hurts." Blaine's voice cried into the phone.
"Blaine, what's wrong?" Kurt sat on his bed, back against the headboard, pillow clutched in his hands. He couldn't fight the want, the need to be there with him.
"I-Kurt." Blaine started to speak, but just cried Kurt's name into the phone. Kurt stayed silent while Blaine sobbed. "Kurt just...can you just talk to me?"
So he did.
Kurt talked into the phone for what seemed like ever. He talked through Blaine crying, and he talked even when he started to hear Blaine snore. Kurt would do that even when he held Blaine in his arms at night. He'd talk into Blaine's curls as he snored on his chest, he knew Blaine wasn't listening, but it felt good just to talk.
That night, while he ate dinner with Rachel and Santana, Kurt received a text from Blaine.
-So I'm at dinner with Carole and your dad right now.
-What'd she make?
-Um, Chinese take-out soup? :)
-lol. feeling better?
-Much. I don't really remember half of school today. Still can't figure out what was wrong with me.
-You sounded like you were dying B
-Yea...sobbing into Carole's arms on your bathroom floor. Not my brightest moment.
-It's okay. Carole's a nurse, she probably sees this every day.
-It was kind of nice, y'know? Mom never really did that when i was sick. just stuck me in my room with a trashcan and a bottle of water.
-I'm glad Sam made Finn bring you to our house instead of you going home.
-It wasn't the same though. The sheets smelled like you, but Carole didn't feel like you.
-Kurt?
-Too far? Sorry
-It's oaky.
Kurt smiled sadly down at his phone and set it on the table, face down.
just friends
Sorry, definitely not my best story.