Notes: I saw this prompt on Tumblr and, because I love The Script and I've been trying to figure out how to write a fic based on The Man Who Can't Be Moved' for ages, I decided to write it. Title is obviously from 'The Man Who Can't Be Moved'. I intended it to be a short drabble and really cracky but then it got kinda angsty and long so sorry. Set post-4.10 and goes AU. And I haven't beta'ed this at all and there's a pretty good chance I've missed a few tense changes. Enjoy!
After the Second Best Christmas Ever, Blaine returns to Lima feeling oddly hollow and simultaneously overflowing with gratitude. Seeing Kurt again, even with Burt's cancer hanging over their heads, was a blessing – Blaine is never going to forget how happy Kurt looked to see him at the rink.
(Blaine's First Best Christmas Ever was last year, where the morning was spent with family but after lunch Blaine went over to the Hummel-Hudson home and was stuffed with as much desert as could fit in his belly and curled up on the couch with Kurt watching Christmas movies.)
But now, now that he's back in his parent's house, having said 'see you later' to Kurt (but not goodbye) in New York and 'farewell' to Burt after dropping him off at home, the ache of Kurt's absence flares up in his chest. If he hadn't screwed up, if he weren't so cautious of overstepping now Kurt's finally talking to him again, he'd call him and whisper I miss you and I love you and next time I see you . . .
Over the next few days, he completes his holiday homework and ignores how his phone pings only with Sam and Tina and Artie and Joe and the growing pressure in his chest.
SO not redy 4 school 2morrw, Sam texts him the day before the start of semester. Blaine stares at it, having flashbacks to this time last year (Kurt sorting out his closet for season-appropriate weather) and the year before that (Kurt both excited and anxious for his first full semester at Dalton).
God, Dalton. Everything was so much simpler, so much easier at Dalton, even when Blaine was being a massive screw-up then too. But Kurt forgave him then. Kurt kissed him back then. Kurt's forgiving him now – and Kurt still loves him – but only in Blaine's most optimistic dreams does Kurt ever want to kiss him again.
The next morning, Blaine finds himself driving not to McKinley, where Sam will be waiting with his undivided attention and his large smile, but to Dalton. It's empty because Dalton's semester doesn't start until next week and it's only open for the cleaning staff but he doesn't see anyone as he makes his way through the hallways. He moves as if in a trance, past the senior common room, the Warbler practice room . . .
The staircase.
Blaine stands at the bottom, feet stuck to the ground as much as his head is stuck in the past. ("Can I ask you a question? I'm new here." "I'm Blaine." "Kurt.") Was this where he was standing when he first saw him? He reaches out to the banister, twisted his hand around the bronze topper the same way Kurt had. ("So what exactly is going on?" "The Warblers! Every now and then they throw an impromptu performance in the senior commons. It tends to shut the school down for a while.") If he could turn back time, he would do it in a heartbeat. He could redo everything, do it right. ("So, wait, the Glee Club here is kind of cool?" "The Warblers are like . . . rock stars! Come on, I know a shortcut.")
It's been months since he'd last held Kurt's hand.
"You alright, kid?"
Blaine startles. How long has he been standing here? How long has he been crying?
"Uh, yeah, I'm fine," he lies as he wiped his sleeves over his cheeks.
"I know it sucks with vacation ending but there's no need to be so upset about it," the janitor says. "You can't be younger than a junior thought, right?"
"Senior. And no, I loved Dalton. Just . . ." Blaine slides his hand up the banister, following it up two steps with his body. "I met the love of my life here."
The janitor chuckles. "That may be but you've still gotta get out of here. You're not supposed to be here till next week."
"Oh, I'm not a student here anymore. I transferred out last year."
"Look, kid, either you've gotta leave or I'll call security."
Okay, Blaine should have said.
"I can't," is what he actually says. Now he's here, surrounded by the beginning, he knows he won't be able to leave again with his heart intact.
It takes two days for the principal to send out a letter to all staff and students:
I am sure you have all heard by now that an old student is refusing to leave the north staircase. Negotiations are still ongoing. However, we are not delaying the beginning of the school term. We ask that all staff and students ignore the ex-student, and that they keep this situation as private as possible. This involves talking to the media and keeping information off all social media and blogging websites. Thank you.
When Sebastian Smythe heard about the crazy ex-student now apparently living on the north staircase, he imagined someone middle-aged who'd lost his money, his family and his hygiene and had moved into his high school to relive his glory days.
He was right about that last part, but he never would have expected Blaine Anderson. He'd heard about the break up, of course, but he's surprised at how pathetic the other boy was being. Seriously, one break up and he clings like a baby. Maybe it was a good thing he'd never managed to get in his pants. Clingy guys are the worst.
"Well, well, well, look who we have here. I must admit, I'm surprised to see you here."
Blaine just gives him a look and then recrosses his legs.
"What, no witty retort? Or is that the area of your ex?"
Blaine flinches, and then his look turns into a full-on glare. "Whatever you have to say, I've already heard it, alright? So just . . . leave me alone."
Damn, he had been so close to hearing the goody-two-shoes schoolboy swear.
Sebastian shrugs. "Whatever. Just don't cry all over my staircase."
That was supposed to be the end of it. But a week later, the north staircase is still blocked off, and every time Sebastian passes it Blaine is singing the same damn song. He eventually gets so fed up of hearing it that he looks up the lyrics just to check he isn't missing something. Seriously, if the guy's supposed to be pining after his ex, why is he singing about overcoming adversity, or whatever the hell the Beatles are on about?
And eventually, he gets so fed up that he breaks into the McKinley auditorium (should he sterilise himself after this?) to get the losers to tell Gay Face about his ex's insanity, because it's driving Sebastian insane having to listen to 'Blackbird' every time he has to go to Calculus.
Blaine doesn't have much to do sitting around, except to think. And he's figured out why he can't bear to leave: Dalton is a safe place, it's easy here and everything fell neatly in its place; but he and Kurt hadn't really talked over Christmas. He didn't blame Kurt, of course, not when he was so worried about Burt, but he'd been clinging to Kurt's Thanksgiving promise that they'd figure things out. And he can't leave Dalton without knowing where he stands with Kurt.
It isn't the comfiest place to sleep, but Blaine barely notices the difference between staircase and bed. He hasn't slept well since October anyway.
A touch to his face brings him out of his light sleep, except when he opens his eyes, he's convinced he's actually still unconscious.
"Oh, Blaine," Kurt sighs, his forehead creased with worry, eyebrows drawn in sympathy, sadness pulling at his lips. But there's that old glint in his eye which reminds Blaine of last Christmas when he'd given Kurt the gum-wrapper promise ring, so even though his stomach twists unpleasantly his heart feels a little bit more healed. "What are you doing?"
Despite his wishes, Blaine hadn't actually expected Kurt to show up, so he's at a bit of a loss for words.
"Come on," Kurt says, straightening and holding out his hand, "let's find somewhere a bit more private."
Blaine slips his hand into Kurt's. His fingers automatically search out the places between Kurt's, so that he felt Kurt's soft palm against his, Kurt's fingers a sure pressure against the back of his hand, Kurt's thumb caressing his knuckle. For a moment, he's worried he's taken it too far, pushed Kurt too much in his sleepy state, but then Kurt squeezes his hand and smiles, and Blaine's heart wells with feeling until it grows into a smile on his face.
Kurt raises their joint hands to his lips, brushes a kiss to Blaine's fingertips, and then says, "Follow me – I know a shortcut."