Disclaimer: I do not own Glee.
A/N: My head canon for the show is still that Blaine's parents don't show him much love or anything really, so I wondered where he got his sweet, delicate almost, composure from. By the end of this you should know my answer to it. Also I miss these kind of characters on the show, they would add such wonderful depths to the main characters, don't you think?
Weathered
His hands are cold, still, now, hours after he had walked into the house and almost as long have they been held by another, warmer pair. Not to mention the heat wave having a hold on the city still, after five full days, but no effect at all on him today.
It had been the late afternoon when Blaine had turned off the engine of his car in the Hummels' driveway, gotten out, slow and stiff, legs and arms unwilling to cooperate with each other, or Blaine, and so he had tripped on the concrete, not a meter beside the grass, despite the heat still green and soft, just his luck, he had ripped his favorite pair of jeans, a present from Kurt a while ago, and the stone hard and hot on this boiling day had torn the skin open and away. The burn had reached much deeper than the dirt invading his bloodstream.
His tears had been the only thing matching the day, hot, heavy, oppressing really, and for the first time in a long time they had been just the way they had been before Kurt so much more often – not in the least freeing but ripping Blaine further apart from the inside. He had not even known anymore why he was crying when he had reached the door, and rung the bell. Everything was so much today, too much.
So now he is sitting here, on the Hummels' living room couch, wrapped in Kurt's arms, hands clutching each other's tightly, Kurt trying to will away the last remnants of the wild shaking Blaine's body had displayed on several occasions this afternoon, his hurt knee twitching again and again from the pain the nerves pick up from his torn skin over and over.
The last daylight dying in the backyard in their view, Blaine snuggles deeper into Kurt's arms, "I didn't even get to say goodbye."
"I know," Kurt whispers back gently.
"She knew before anyone else did. I mean," Blaine pauses and swallows hard, tries to swallow down the lump still heavy in his throat, refusing to budge in the slightest, even after Carole had made sure they both had eaten some dinner it is still there and he has to press the words past it, "… she knew long before I told her, but she also was the first person I ever came out to."
"I am so sorry, Love."
"I miss her so much already, and I saw her only two weeks ago," Blaine falls silent again, and Kurt lets go of Blaine's hands, coming to rest against Kurt's chest, still too cold, and Kurt drapes his arms around Blaine's back. The room around them turns darker and darker slowly, neither feeling the impulse to add artificial light. They have each other.
Minutes and a lot of sniffling, on Blaine's part, later, Blaine asks, "Does it get easier?"
Kurt's smile is somewhat sad, seen by only the dark surrounding them, Blaine's face buried deep in Kurt's chest, blocking out all of the world apart from Kurt, well, at least trying to. "I don't know about easier, I get still sad all the time, as you know, about my mom. Only last week …," Kurt breaks off feeling Blaine's arms, so far curled up between their chests, sneaking around his middle and squeezing tightly back.
"I'm sorry," Blaine whispers tentatively, feeling guilty for reminding Kurt.
And Blaine does not need to add anything, Kurt knows what it means, "Hey, no, Love, don't apologize for asking. I am really, really glad we can talk about this; really, really glad I can be here for you in this way. Really."
"I don't want to upset you," Blaine whispers brokenly.
"You are the one person I want to upset me. I want to share the good and the bad. It makes one even better and the other easier. But that's not what I wanted to say before. I wanted to tell you that in a big part it is up to you. It was up to me when my mom died to focus on the bad or the good memories. Her death is one bad memory, her life has so many great ones in it for me, and my dad constantly adds to them. Maybe you could talk to Cooper, was he close to your Granma too?"
"We spent all our Christmas holidays with her, just the two of us, not my mother or father. I guess that's why I loved it even more than I would have anyway."
There is a long silence, minutes pass with the two just snuggling on the sofa until … Kurt asks, "Blaine?" feeling the need to hear what Blaine's much less tense body curled up in his arms is telling him already he has reason to hope.
"Yes?"
"Feeling a little better?"
"Loads."