Blaine hadn't planned on driving all the way out to Lima on a whim, then he had realized he hadn't seen or talked to Kurt for awhile. It shouldn't really be a reason to worry but with everything else going on he had decided to check on him. So he was now sitting at a table in Breadstix waiting. The last thing he expected was for Kurt to show up looking like he'd gotten dressed in the dark and hadn't looked in a mirror all day. Basically Kurt was a mess, it even looked like his eyes were rimmed in red. He didn't say anything because he wasn't sure Kurt would take kindly to being told he looked like crap. But it did confirm that after Kurt's lack of contact he did have a good reason to worry.
Kurt sat across from Blaine, his hands gripping the edge of the seat. He wanted, almost needed, to just hear the simple question, Are you ok, you look a little rough. He had tried to clean up, but one could only cry for so long before it became impossible to hide it. Why the hell had he agreed to this? Did he really need any more reminders that even his so called friends didn't, or couldn't, see him breaking.
Blaine had no idea what to do. It was clear as day something serious was wrong with Kurt, and honestly he was scared. Kurt had been crying, it was obvious on his face. He wanted to ask flat out what was wrong, but Kurt was proud, and would probably deny anything was wrong.
The petite singer was picking at his food, nothing had touched his lips. He had no interest in eating, as cliché and melodramatic as it sounded he didn't have much interest in breathing either. Say something, he mentally pleaded, notice, don't ignore me, make me think you care. Please Blaine, I need you, please make something ok, please I need you. Blaine continued to eat, looking uncomfortable. Kurt bit his lip, opening a new tear close to the first. Was this a mistake Blaine? Asking me here, are you really just like the others, a conditional friend, there until I really need you? The little self loathing voice in the back of his head was front and center now. And it was right.
Blaine felt helpless, he didn't know what to do or say, but it was so obvious he had to, because no one else had. His stomach was so tied in knots he couldn't eat anymore, they couldn't stay much longer. He yearned to reach out and touch Kurt's face, tell him he would always be there for him, hold him when he cried, try to make everything alright. That was when he realized Kurt's hands were shaking slightly. Maybe he shouldn't do anything yet, wait and see if Kurt was ready to talk soon before trying to bring it up. The one thing he didn't realize was the things he had resisted doing were the things Kurt wanted, he needed.
Please, Kurt begged one more time, I want you to ask me, and when I lie that I'm fine, see through it. Be the person I thought you were, the one who cares, the one who understands.
Blaine reached out and placed his hand on Kurt's, feeling the minute tremors as they shook. His thumb grazed the small cut on Kurt's wrist where he had dug his nails in before coming in, trying to clear his head of the haze or pain and disconnection. He squeezed Kurt's hand tighter, he didn't have any idea what to do now, but he would figure it out. He wasn't going to stand by and watch him self destruct.
The weight of Blaines warm hand over his was the most contact Kurt had felt from anyone for a long time. He felt Blaines thumb graze a sensitive cut on his wrist, a small welcome shock of pain. Can you see it yet, his mind whispered, are you still going to ignore it, could it be more obvious, do you just not care.
Paying the bill they walked outside. Blaine drew Kurt into a tight embrace, hoping the younger boy understood the promise of help behind it. Whatever he was going through he wouldn't be alone, he hoped Kurt could feel all that in the circle of his arms.
Wrapped in Blaines arms Kurt wanted to break down right there. All too soon Blaine let go. He never did ask, clearly he could tell, but he couldn't be bothered to actually find out, then he might actually have to pretend to give a shit, and no one wanted to be bothered by that.
On his way to his car Blaine turned back and saw the lights glint off the tears rolling down Kurt's cheeks. No matter what he wasn't going to let it go unnoticed anymore.
Xxx
As he was getting his sweatpants the pocketknife his dad had given him for his tenth birthday caught his eye, laying at the bottom of the drawer. He had never had much use for it, but after staring at it for a few long minutes he slipped it into his nightstand drawer. No one said you had to use a razor.
