all we can do is keep breathing
Disclaimer: Still don't Glee.
Note: This was written two weeks ago post 'The Sue Sylvester Bowl Shuffle,' but I was swamped with school. So here we are. I couldn't stop smiling after 'Silly Love Songs' (Yay for Blaine and character depth!) and I'm actually kind of scared for 'Blame It On The Alcohol'. Well, intrigued by how they'll tackle it. And by it I mean the make out in the promo, but for those of you who watch later than I do I won't spoil it!
In conclusion: Post 'The Sue Sylvester Shuffle Bowl.'
When Blaine makes his way down to Kurt and Finn's room after the game and finds Kurt tearing his closet apart, his first instinct is just do nothing. His friend is separated from his (fabulous) wardrobe most of the time anyway, so Blaine figures this frenzy is a natural...coping mechanism. This idea is rejected however when Kurt stops rummaging through his once-immaculate closet (which should have tipped him off, the elder boy thinks belatedly) and pulls out a red McKinley football jersey.
Now Blaine, being the sort to interact (be best friends with) boys like Wes and David, (who despite appearances are complete idiots inside) cannot help it when completely inappropriate thoughts spring to mind. Kurt in a jersey. Kurt in a whole uniform. Kurt running—No. Bad Blaine. Stop it. Can't you see the look on his face?
The Dalton soloist snaps out of his (embarrassing) stupor just in time to catch the loathing frown on Kurt's face, as though he's tempted to rip the jersey in two. He apparently settles instead for hurtling it across the room. Right at Blaine's head.
"Woah," he says, catching it reflexively as if he hadn't been standing there in the doorway for the last minute and a half. "If I'd known red wasn't your colour I wouldn't have suggested that sweater last week."
The following laugh is half-hearted and they both know it. The gears in Blaine's head whir as Kurt falls silent. It's not hard to figure out.
"Football zombies not up to par with New Directions?" he ventures, folding the jersey neatly over his arm.
"It was a great number," Kurt says lamely, falling heavily onto his bed. It groans underneath him. "The mash-up was very McKinley."
Blaine doesn't say that the Warblers can mash-up too, because a) Wes would hate the idea, and b) that's not the point. He's tempted to segue the conversation to where he knows it'll go, but forces the words down. Kurt will talk when he's ready. Blaine adjusts the sleeves of Finn's sweater (too long, but Kurt refused to let him dirty his uniform during dinner) and sits down beside his friend, careful to keep an appropriate distance between them.
Kurt takes a deep, shuddering breath and Blaine waits patiently until he summons the courage. "It's okay," the elder boy says softly. "Take your time."
3 AM anyone?
"It's stupid," Kurt replies weakly, staring down at his fingers. Blaine shakes his head in force of habit.
"No it's not."
"You don't even know what I'm going to say."
He pauses a second too long. The other boy whips around. "Do you?"
Blaine opens his mouth, debating quickly with a small sigh. "I saw him. Karofsky. He was part of the number." Kurt's eyes fall closed and he knows he's hit the mark. "You can be upset, Kurt. I don't blame you."
"I just..." Kurt's Adam's apple bobs in his throat. "I feel like he's taking everything from me. McKinley, whatever football memories I have, and now Glee. And you know what's the worst part?"
Blaine does, but he doesn't say anything.
"He's good." The twist in his lips is bitter and awful and the Dalton senior resolves then and there never to let it happen again. Kurt's eyes are dark with anger. "He's good! So not only am I losing Finn and probably the rest of the club, I'm going to lose the one thing that's always been there for me. I hate him, Blaine. I just—"
His voice cracks and his body trembles. The elder boy takes one hand and rubs soothingly between Kurt's shoulder blades. "Hey. Just breathe, okay? Just breathe."
It's quiet for a long time as Blaine resists a sudden urge to take Kurt's hand and fiddle with his delicate fingers. "I know this probably won't make you feel better," he begins, slow and careful. "But you know you have me, right? Always. I'm never going anywhere, no matter where you go or what you do."
Kurt looks up at this, his cheeks flushed with an adorable colour. His eyes are shining. Blaine swallows a bit roughly and tries to stamp down this painful feeling of vulnerability. He reaches out and winds an arm around his friend's shoulder, feeling then (despite the height difference) as though Kurt is small enough to be swallowed up by his sadness.
"It's good, isn't it?" the younger boy says suddenly. "Personal growth for Karofsky or something?" The sarcastic sharpness of his tongue is familiar and somewhat reassuring.
"Maybe," Blaine concedes, careful still. "Maybe not. Finn told me they were slushied the other day. It's why the team pulled out in the first place."
Kurt lets out a breath of flat, humourless laughter. "Of course. He can't take what he dishes out. The coward."
"You're stronger than him," is what comes out instead of agreement. "I hear you even took a cherry facial for your brother."
Kurt doesn't correct him, which he takes as a good sign. "I still ran away." The words are so quiet, they'd be inaudible at any other distance. "Doesn't that make me as bad as him? Running away from my problems?"
The flare of protectiveness in Blaine's gut roars in time with the cold shame. "Listen to me." There's an edge in his voice that he can't quite hold down, so Kurt's eyes are wide when Blaine leaps boundaries, reaching out to tilt Kurt's chin up and meet his eyes.
"That is not even close to being true. You left because he was threatening your life. He jumped ship because he couldn't handle the exact thing he did to you. Besides," The derision and self-loathing is unmistakable, even to Blaine's own ears. "I ran too, remember?" For some reason, his fingers won't release the smooth strength of Kurt's jawline. "There's no shame in wanting to live your life, Kurt. I know it feels like it now, but it won't forever. I promise."
The younger boy's eyes fill with tears, and the elder hates himself for it. For a second it feels as though neither is breathing, as though time and space had come to a full and complete stop. Before Blaine can open his mouth, Kurt throws his arms around his neck, and in those long moments of breathlessness everything is warm.
"If you wanted a hug," he murmurs gruffly, "all you had to was ask."
The laugh is real this time, airy and choking and it seeps relief into Blaine's bones. Kurt's voice is hoarse. "What would I do without you?"
This is probably way too long to be considered a platonic hug, but no one moves.
"You'd just shine brighter, Kurt." Blaine can barely get the words out. "Brighter than starlight."
A pause, in which Blaine is glad Kurt can't see his face, burning with embarrassment and fear that that was way too much.
"Was that really just a reference to Baby It's Cold Outside?"
He almost laughs. "What if it was?"
The sudden pressure of Kurt's nose against Blaine's neck erases all tangible trains of thought.
"Stop ruining the moment, okay?"
He's happy to oblige.
Author's Note: I love them. Missed them this week, but next should be interesting, to say the least. Title comes from Ingrid Michealson's Keep Breathing. Don't own that. Adore it, though. I just realized that there's a reference to Midnight Mettle in here. Sorry 'bout that.
Thoughts, on anything? I must finish studying for my midterm...that's tomorrow. Yeah.
Annie
