Summary: (Prompt fill) Blaine has ADHD. Because of this disorder, Blaine has a difficult time taking tests in any sort of timely manner. One day Blaine unintentionally takes overtime on a test and freaks out. Kurt is there to comfort him.
Pairings: Klaine
Warnings: Emotional Abuse, ADHD, Depression (hinted at but never actually stated), Severe insecurities.
A/N: Parts of this fic are reflections Blaine's thoughts on his disorder and are in no way a representation of my own opinions. Also, I don't own glee.
Blaine had been able to tell from the moment he woke up that morning that it was not going to be a good day. His alarm didn't go off which meant he woke up with only ten minutes to get ready for school if he wanted to be anywhere close to on time. He'd showered with inhuman speed and was grateful that he'd had the presence of mind to lay out his outfit the night before. He skipped breakfast, opting to use the last three minutes before he rushed out the door to gel his hair into submission.
Still, despite his best efforts, Blaine was late to first period. He'd earned himself a glare from the teacher, but didn't pay it much mind. He was already looking forward to the bell ringing so that he could go meet Kurt by their lockers. The period seemed to drag on forever, and by the time the bell did ring, Blaine realized he hadn't taken a single note all period. He shrugged away the thought. Who needs history anyway?
Blaine bounded down the hallway, more excited than usual to meet up with his gorgeous boyfriend considering the crappy morning he'd had. However, Kurt wasn't at his there- sign number two that today was not going to be Blaine's day. Blaine lingered by his locker, glancing up and down the hallway in hopeful longing as the bell ending the passing period ring and then the spring bell. There was no sign of Kurt. With heavier steps, Blaine headed down the hallway toward English class, arriving just late enough to receive the blunt end of Mrs. Walker's frustrations.
Period after period, hour after hour, the day dragged on in a bitter, vicious cycle. Blaine arrived to each class late, his thoughts on Kurt: Why Kurt never showed up at their lockers, what Kurt might be wearing, what they would do after school, what he'd say when he saw Kurt. He spent each class with his head in the clouds, trying his best to ground himself as blew off steam by yelling at him about paying attention and the lack of manners and respect teenagers had today. Blaine had never been accused of bad manners before. He worked hard to maintain a respectful, maintained composure no matter where his thoughts were. The accusations made his blood boil, but he did his best to hide it. Blaine had trouble focusing even on his best days, but today it was all but impossible. The teachers didn't understand, Blaine knew that.It wasn't their fault, he would tell himself as spit flew Mr. Caufield's fat lips and onto Blaine's cheek.
ADHD, the doctors called it. Attention Deficit Hyperactivity Disorder. Symptoms included inattentiveness, hyperactivity, and impulsive behavior. Basically meant he couldn't focus well. On anything. His brain simply refused to relax into one topic, choosing instead to bounce incessantly from one thought to the next. It was worse when he was tense or nervous or upset. He couldn't think straight, couldn't sit still. The doctors said he should be taking medication, but his parents refused to pay for pills when they believed he could get better on his own if he would just "sit down and apply himself like any other teenager."
But it wasn't that easy for Blaine. He tried. Oh, man, did he try. He would spend hours on end studying every night, trying to get all the information to stay in his brain. He rarely went out, rarely left his room except for school or during summer break. He worked hard. But it was never enough. It was never enough for the doctors, never enough for his parents, and never enough for Blaine. He wanted the good grades other kids got easily. He wanted to make his parents proud, but he just couldn't think the way other kids could.
But that wasn't the teacher's fault, and, if Blaine was being honest with himself, he never really believed it was his parent's fault either. It wasn't about pills or disorders. It was about Blaine. He knew his father was right. If he could just sit down and focus, just make himself concentrate, he would be better. He knew he would. But he just couldn't do it. He was too stupid, too childish, too distracted. He hated it.
By the time seventhperiod rolled around, Blaine was about to explode from the built up tension and stress of the day. He had seventh period calculus with Kurt, and by the time he reached the room, all he wanted to do was fall into his boyfriend's arms and cry. Of course he wouldn't, but he wanted to. For a moment he was afraid Kurt wouldn't be in class that day, but that fear evaporated as he stepped into the room and saw his beautiful boyfriend sitting in the middle of the classroom with an open seat beside him. As though sensing Blaine's presence, Kurt looked towards the door and smiled the wide, happy smile Blaine loved so much. Suddenly the stresses of the day melted off Blaine's shoulders and he felt light as he crossed the room and slipped into the seat beside Kurt.
"Hey baby," Kurt chirped in this light falsetto voice. Blaine grinned.
"Hey yourself." Kurt frowned then, looking up at Blaine with regretful eyes.
"I'm sorry I didn't meet up with you at our lockers today," he said timidly. "Rachel is dead set on doing this duet thing and kept pulling me aside to talk sheet music. I was late to two classes today because of her!" Hesighed, exasperated.
Blaine laughed.
"It's fine. I'm just glad you're here now," Kurt grinned at Blaine's words, the whole of it forgotten with Blaine's forgiveness. Kurt opened his mouth to say something else, but the words stuck in his throat as the teacher spoke up. He smiled regretfully.
"Hello class," Mr. Kesler said, his voice laced with humor as he called for the class's attention. Mr. Kesler was Blaine's favorite teacher outside of Mr. Shuein glee, but calculus was his worst subject. The room settled into a restless silence as Mr. Kesler continued. "I have here your lesson-four chapter tests. I hope you all studied over the weekend." The class groaned as one unit, and Mr. Kesler smiled. "That's what I thought. Well, lets just get this over with then, shall we?" He began to pass out the test packets.
Blaine felt a knot form in the pit of his stomach. If Blaine found taking notes in class to be difficult, tests were hell on earth. He could feel the stress of the day settle back into his shoulders, making them sore. Unlike most of the students in the room, Blaine had studied for this test. He'd skipped his and Kurt's usual Saturday morning coffee date to study for this test. He hadn't slept most of the weekend because he was studying for this test. And yet Blaine knew, as he always did, that it wouldn't matter. No matter what Blaine did, no matter how hard he studied, no matter what lengths he went through to do well, Blaine couldn't focus enough on the test to actually pass it.
He knew all of the answers, that was the worst part. If you just asked him for the limit of x plus four timestwo-x plus eight all over x minus four as h approaches zero, he could tell you. He knew the answers, but he could never get them down on the paper. His stupid brain would forget he knew anything and focus instead on the black dots on the page created by printing errors.
By the time Blaine received his own test packet, he was already so stressed out he felt like he couldn't breathe. He ignored the feeling and tried to focus on the first problem.
The bell for the end of class and the end of the school day rang, and Blaine had barely passedthe halfway mark. He didn't know it was possible, but he could feel his shoulders tense even more as the other student filed out of the classroom leaving only him, Mr. Kesler, and Kurt who hovered awkwardly at the doorway.
"I'll wait for you outside, okay?" Kurt said. Blaine nodded once and Kurt slipped out the door. Blaine looked back down at his paper and tried to focus on the problem in front of him. He read it once, and it sounded like gibberish in his mind. He read it again. He was certain he knew how to do this. The ticking of the clock was suddenly far too loud. He glanced up and found himself watching the second hand move around the circle andthinking about how clocks could keep time. It was really a strange thing that humans had invented clocks at all. He'd read somewhere that time wasn't real. Only clocks were real. There would be no need to count time if humans hadn't invented clocks. What was the point? All they did was go around and around on their little dials. Time meant nothing to a clock. Only to the people watching it.
Mr. Kesler cleared his throat, snapping Blaine out of his thoughts immediately. Blaine's cheeks flushed darkly and he turned his attention back to his paper. He read the question again and managed to get his mind to translate it into some form of English he could understand. After a few minutes, he was able to solve it and moved on to the next problem. He got about halfway through reading it when he noticed one of the 'e's wasn't fully colored in. The ink was lighter on it than on the rest of the words, and it had little bits missing.
Blaine closed his eyes and shook his head.
"Come on, Blaine, focus," he muttered to himself. "Just focus."
It took him only a few seconds to solve that problem and move on to the next. In fact, he moved through the next three problems in record time before his eyes traveled up to a groove in the desk. He began to run the tip of his pencil through it, coloring the groove in but being careful not to smudge any graphite on the polished wood of the desk it was carved into. Back and forth he ran the pencil. Back and forth. Back and forth. Back and forth. Back and forth.
The pencil broke. It shattered into small fragments of graphite and grey-ish smudges. He looked up at the clock. Thirty-seven minutes had passed since the end bell. Mr. Kesler hadn't said anything. He always gave Blaine his time. It was part of the reason Blaine loved Mr. Kesler so much. But this was thirty-seven minutes. Blaine had been sitting here more than a half an hour past the freaking end of school, and he still had at least a quarter of his test to finish. And his pencil was broken. And Kurt was waiting. Kurt was waiting. Blaine and his stupid brain and his inability to do even the most simple questions in any less than twice the time it took other kids; stupid, dumb Blaine was keeping Kurt waiting. And Mr. Kesler. Mr. Kesler had kids to go home to. Kurt had afamily dinner to get to. And Blaine was so stupid he was keeping them both here so he could finish a stupid test he knew he knew the answers to.
And his pencil was broken.
All at once, that broken pencil became the last straw for Blaine. He couldn't take it any more. He was so stressed out and so disappointed in himself,and he just knew he was going to fail the test anyway.
He picked up the pencil and slammed it, broken-tip-end down, into the desk hard enough to flatten the tip completely. He repeated the gesture, slamming the pencil up and down quickly, violently, until Mr. Kesler was yelling at him to stop and the pencil was split in two.
He stood up then and turned a tear-soaked face towards Mr. Kesler. He hadn't realized he'd started crying, but it was too late to cover it up now. He didn't say anything. He simply walked over to Mr. Kesler, who stared at him with a shocked expression, and handed him his test.
"Blaine-?" Mr. Kesler began, but Blaine ignored him, heading for the exit. "Blaine, this test isn't finished. Blaine, are you okay? Blaine- come back!"
Blaine was already out the door and halfway down the hallway. He realized after a moment that he was running. He had no idea where he was going, but he just needed to get away. He needed to get out of that building and away from his thoughts. He burst through the school's front door and into the brisk air. Full on sobs were shaking him now, but he didn't let that slow him. He continued to run. He passed by Kurt who was leaning against his car. Kurt tried to call out for him, but Blaine didn't slow. He didn't think. He was done thinking. He could hear Kurt running after him, but even that didn't slow him. Somehow he ended up behind the school. He stopped finally. Leaning back against the building, he sunk to the floor, his legs up to his chest. He was crying openly now and was glad no one was around to see him, though he knew Kurt wasn't far behind. He could hear the footfalls of his boyfriend only a few yards back.
"Blaine!" Kurt called. "Blaine! Where are you? B-Blaine?" Kurt nearly fell over Blaine as he ran. He stumbled to a stop.
"Blaine, baby, what's wrong?" heasked, crouching down to sit beside the crying form of his boyfriend.
"What's wrong?" Blaine sobbed bitterly. "What's wrong is that I'm so freaking stupid I can't even finish a simple test before the school bell rings. What's wrong is that I can't focus enough to take notes in any of my classes and every teacher here wants to use me as a verbal punching bag. What's wrong is that I studied for this test. I studied the entire weekend for this test, Kurt, and I still didn't even finish it. What's wrong is that I know my dad's right. I could do better Kurt. I could be better. But I'm not. Instead I'm just so-so-so stupid-" Blaine cut off suddenly, snapping his mouth shut. He looked confused and terrified, as though he was only just realizing he'd said all of that out loud.
"You are not stupid," Kurt shot back authoritatively. There was a beat of painful silence and Blaine's eyes fell to his knees.
"Yes I am," Blaine whispered the words so quietly, Kurt wasn't sure he'd actually heard them. But he had. There was no defiance, no anger in Blaine's face; no fight in his tone. He was as resigned and repentant as a sinner in church who had finally accepted that he was beyond saving. Kurt's heart clenched.
"No you are not. Blaine, baby, look at me," Kurt's voice was soft. Blaine didn't respond, but Kurt waited in patient silence and after a moment Blaine raised his head to meet Kurt's eyes. Blaine's eyes held none of the bitterness Kurt was expecting. He just looked tired. Kurt felt a new wave of anger rush through him at the dead look in his boyfriend's eyes. "Blaine you are not stupid. Your father-" Blaine flinched. "-he doesn't know the first thing about you. He doesn't care about you half as much as he should, but that is not your fault. He just doesn't know you, Blaine. You are not stupid." Kurt paused for a moment, thinking. Something seemed to catch his memory and he continued, "Did you know the answers on that test?"
"I don't know-" Blaine began, dropping his eyes to his knees.
"Blaine," Kurt cut Blaine off, crouching down further in an attempt to get a better look at Blaine's face. Blaine refused to look up. "Do you think you knew the answers to the test?"
There was a beat of silence then: "Yes, but-"
Kurt refused to let Blaine finish his thought. "If Mr. Kesler were to give it to you orally or one question at a time, would you get them right?"
"I don't-"
"Do you think you would get them right Blaine?" Kurt demanded, his tone relentless.
"Probably, I think, but-"
"Then you are not stupid. Even if you didn't get them right, that would not make you stupid. You know this stuff, Blaine, you work hard to-"
"That's just it!" Blaine yelled, shooting up to his feet, his hands clenched into fists. The sudden movement surprised Kurt so much he fell backwards and had to crane his neck to keep his eyes on his boyfriend. "I work so hard Kurt. I spend hours on homework every night. I do almost nothing but study just to keep my head above water in class. And people like you, people who are smart, people not like me, they spend maybe twenty minutes on those same assignments and still do better than me. I'm still at school right now, over a half an hour past every other student and I still haven't finished the test that you finished in forty minutes. How is that not stupid, Kurt? What's so freaking smart about that?"
Blaine finally met Kurt's gaze. Kurt simply stared back in a stunned silence, amazed at how much twisted thoughtBlaine had given this.
"Why do you do that?" Kurt asked, rising to his feet to look down at Blaine. Blaine's eyes had dropped to his feet slowly as the anger of the last statement had subsided. He looked so defeated.
"Do what?" he asked.
"Compare yourself to me. Compare yourself to everyone else like that. Why do you do that?" Kurt explained, trying to get Blaine to meet his eyes. Blaine refused. He simply shrugged at the question.
"Blaine-"
"My dad does it!" Blaine exploded, his eyes snapping up to Kurt's with such sudden force, the taller boy actually stumbled a step back. "Always has. How else am I supposed to learn, Kurt?" Blaine spat, there was a bitter edge to his tone that had been missing before.
"Learn what, Blaine. What do you mean?"
"Learn who I'm supposed to be. I'm not there yet, Kurt. Not good enough yet. You can see it, I know you can. I can see it. I'm not as talented as Cooper; not as athletic as my father was, not as good a singer as you are. I'm too short to play sports, too limited to do well in glee, and too stupid to be worth it all anyway!" Blaine was yelling now. He sounded like he was reciting some sort of mantra, a speech he'd listened to so many times over he'd had it memorized. He voice was raw and robotic, his eyes dead despite the fire in his tone. Kurt's heart broke at the words.
"That's not true, Blaine," he countered gently, shaking his head. He reached a hand out towards his boyfriend, so much smaller now in the light of his confession. "That's not true."
"How would you know?" Blaine muttered sounding more like a three-year-oldBlaine who had just been told the tooth fairy isn't real, than a teenage Blaine being told he was worth something. He shied away from Kurt's touch and the taller boy dropped his arm to his side with a dull thud.
"Because I know you, Blaine," Kurt explained confidently, but slowly as though he was talking to that same three-year-old Blaine. "Which is more that whoever told you any of that can say. Do you really believe any of that Blaine?"
The shorter boy's shoulders shrugged, almost imperceptibly.
"Then you don't know you very well either," Kurt stated.
Blaine's gaze dropped back to his shoes, but Kurt wasn't going to give up that easily.
"Blaine look at me. Now Blaine," slowly Blaine's head rose."You are worth so much more than any test or quiz or person can ever tell you Blaine. You are not useless, you are not less than anyone else, and you are not stupid."
Blaine's face broke for a second, doubt creeping into his eyes for the first time since the conversation had begun. Kurt was getting to him, and eagerly tookthe opportunity to finish this once and for all.
"I love you Blaine. You have so many people who love you. You are talented and brilliant and you can do anything you put your mind to. You are an amazing singer, andan incredible dancer. You could play any sport you wanted to, if you wanted to. And you are so smart. Do you hear me Blaine?" Kurt finished, searching Blaine's face for some sort of recognition. Tears were running freely down his face, and Kurt wondered for a moment if anyone had ever said anything like that to Blaine before. After a moment, Blaine spoke.
"Why does he hate me, Kurt?" Blaine sobbed, his face falling entirely. His legs failed him as he sobbed, and Kurt caught the smaller boy before he hit the ground, finally understanding that this was about so much more than a dumb calculus test. Kurt sunk to the ground, cradling Blaine's head against his chest.
"He doesn't hate you, Blaine," Kurt whispered into Blaine's hair, noticing how much messier it was than usual. "He doesn't hate you. He just doesn't know you, baby. He just doesn't know you."
Kurt repeated that over and over into Blaine's hair as the teen sobbed harshly into Kurt's designer sweater. He held Blaine until the tears stopped and then until his breath evened. He held him until the sun was setting and his father had called three times, worried about what might have kept him so long. Kurt didn't fail to notice that Blaine got no such call. He began to wonder if Blaine's parents would notice if Blaine didn't come home at all. Kurt thought back to every time he'd seen Blaine get drunk and throw himself at the nearest person, searching for some sense of closeness. He thought back to the night at Scandals when Blaine had walked home. Kurt hadn't thought much about it then, but Westerville was miles from Lima. It was at least an hour long drive and would have been a hell of a walk. Even if Blaine took the bus it would have taken hours. But Blaine hadn't given it a second thought. He thought about how quickly Blaine had managed to transfer to McKinley.
Suddenly Kurt felt he was about to break down himself. He couldn't break down here, though. He knew he needed to be strong for Blaine. This wasn't his struggle. He could go home and cry to his father and Carol about it later. Cry to his parents. Parents who would sit and listen to him and tell him how good a person he was for helping Blaine. Parents who loved him unconditionally.
When Kurt pulled away, Blaine felt empty. He knew Kurt needed to go home, and he felt suddenly guilty for keeping Kurt here. To save himself as much embarrassment as possible, Blaine stood quickly.
"I should probably get home," Blaine said blandly. "My parents will be worried, and you have a dinner to get to, right?"
Kurt stood, wanting to reach out to Blaine, to hold him again, but Blaine was already a few paces away.
"Blaine-" Kurt started, but Blaine cut him off with a classic Blaine Anderson smile.
"I'm fine, Kurt," Blaine said, grinning wider. His eyes even lit up with the action, making Kurt want to believe him, even though he didn't."Really. Don't worry about it."
As Blaine turned to walk away, Kurt found himself wanting more. He wanted to ask how often the Blaine Anderson smiles were fake. He wanted to know what Blaine was really feeling. He wanted to ask how Blaine could be so much like a stained glass window; how he could be so beautiful, so perfectly composed, and yet so fragile all at once. He wanted to ask everything, but he said nothing, because Blaine was already gone. He was already walking towards his car, letting his hips swing with all his Blaine Anderson confidence as he wiped away the tears that were quickly drying on his face.
Blaine pulled open the door to his car and climbed inside. As he turned the key in the ignition, he wondered where he would go. He couldn't head home until he looked like an Anderson again. Anderson boys don't cry. He knew that. What he didn't know was what was wrong with him today. Why had he admitted all of that to Kurt? It didn't change anything. Blaine knew it didn't change anything. And yet he couldn't stop Kurt's voice from echoing in the back of his head.
You're worth more than any test, Blaine. He just doesn't know you.
Blaine didn't know if it was true. In fact he was pretty sure it wasn't. But it was a nice thought, so he let it play over and over in the back of his mind.
Kurt watched Blaine's car pull out of the school parking lot, going in the opposite direction of where Kurt knew Blaine's house to be. Kurt wondered if Blaine would go home at all tonight, and if anyone would notice if he didn't.
Kurt's phone buzzed, pulling him from his thoughts. He pulled it from his pocket. DAD calling flashed across the screen. Kurt clicked the answer button.
"Hello?"
"Kurt! Where the hell have you been? I've been trying to call you all night!"
"I know Dad. I'm sorry," Kurt said, the sound of his father's voice brought the full weight of the day down on him, making his voice shake.
"Kurt? Are you okay?" Burt's voice had lost all of it's anger at the trembling in his son's answer. "What happened? Are you hurt?"
"No, no Dad," Kurt laughed a teary laugh. "I'm fine it's just…been a long day. I'll-I'll tell you about it when I get home, okay?"
"Yeah, alright, where are you?" Burt questioned. "Dinner's getting cold."
"I'm at the school. I'll be home in ten."
"You're still at school? Kurt what happened!?" Burt demanded.
"I'll tell you all about it when I get home okay? I promise," Kurt assured his father, smiling at the concern in the older man's tone.
"Alright," Burt sounded reluctant, but conceded anyway, knowing it was pointless to push his son into talking. "I'll see you soon."
"Yeah," Kurt said, "And Dad?"
"Yeah?" Burt questioned, the concern creeping back into his voice.
"Thank you," Kurt nearly choked on the words.
"For what?" Burt all but laughed.
"For everything,"
"Yeah, okay son, just come on home."
"No, I mean it, Dad," Kurt persisted as he pulled open the door to his car with his free hand. "I really mean it. Thank you."
"Well, what are fathers for?" Kurt could hear the sincerity in his father's voice.
I really don't know anymore, Kurt thought to himself, hanging up the phone.
I just don't know.