Story of My Life

Written in these walls are the stories that I can't explain...

Kurt let out a shaky sigh. He hadn't been more terrified in his whole life. If he failed the shot he wouldn't only let all his teammates down but his night would be very unpleasant back at home. However, the idea of celebrating the victory made his head spin terribly and also gave him a horrible urge to throw up.

"You are up kid. You make this and we win. You make this, and you die a legend"

His coach's words made him wanna scream and cry, and run away yelling that he couldn't do it. But, turning around, all his teammates were smiling encouragingly at him, and looking back on the field, his step-brother nodded encouragingly.

Kurt Hummel was the best football kicker in the Mid-West. Every game he was in, he shot with absolute and simple precision, making all the balls get in between the goal posts. Everybody remembered the first game he was in though, when the Titans started dancing Single Ladies by Beyonce and they won for the first time in seasons. From that moment, sassy Kurt Hummel became the most important part of the Lima Titans.

And there he was, shaking like crazy because it was freezing and because he had all the weight in his shoulders of scoring and heading his team to the National League, reaching for the Super Bowl. Kurt took a slow, deep breath. Although every organ in his body told him to start running out of that stadium, crawl in a hole and die, he stepped forward. He just couldn't let Finn, and Puck, and Mike, and Sam, and all the other guys down. He knew he shouldn't care about them, he knew he should be thinking about the guy whose blue eyes were staring at him expectantly, but Kurt never feared nobody more than he feared Dave Karofsky, who was supposed to make him feel cared about and loved, instead, going home with him had become the kicker's nightmare.

Shaking his head in order to clean his mind, Kurt stepped backwards, focusing on the football ball. He closed his eyes on his last three steps. When he opened them, he ran and kicked the ball as hard and precisely as he could.

And he score.

In between the roars of the crowd and the ones from his friends and teammates, he couldn't hear anything. Trying to focus on smiling and enjoying the moment, his heart couldn't stop beating fast and his head couldn't stop spinning, thinking of the words "I promise we will celebrate it if we win" that his boyfriend had said to him before jumping on the field and after ruffling his carefully made hair. Kurt didn't like a single bit how that had sounded, and the phrase that came after it didn't help much…

"But don't expect anything less far from cuddles and love than what would happen if you screw this up Kurt"

While everybody cheered and celebrated around him; unable to contain them anymore, Kurt burst into tears.

"Blaine? Blaine! Blaine, can you hear me?"

The curly haired brunette groaned, putting a hand on his head. "What happened?" he managed to say, his voice raspy.

"Dude you got knocked out…. again"

"Nick you are not helping!"

"But it's true!"

"Stop yelling!" Blaine ordered, slowly sitting up.

A wave of pain and dizziness shook him as soon as he did the movement. He sighed deeply and tried to stand up without throwing up, he wasn't sure what though, he hadn't been eating at all those past few months, much less before a combat.

"Hey. Lie back down, you look like crap"

"Thanks Sebastian" the boxer snorted sarcastically. He looked around the room and discovered that not even a single one of his friends was missing this time. "Where am I?"

"Nursery of the arena… not a very luxurious one but…" Trent started explaining.

"I'm like 93% sure we should drive you to a hospital, Blaine" a dark skinned guy stated.

"I agree with David, but Sebastian assured you were going to be absolutely pissed if we did so…" Wes said before being cut off.

"I would have been absolutely pissed. Now that you see I am perfectly fine, can you leave me alone?" the injured young man spat.

"I don't know Blaine… you do look pretty bad…" Jeff said, trying to persuade him.

Sebastian sighed and shook his head, knowing what was coming next.

"GO!"

A few minutes later, the only people left in the room were Sebastian and Blaine himself.

"I wanna see it… I know you have it…" the boxer said, slowly standing up, left hand on the wall to prevent him from falling.

"C'mon buddy, don't do that to yourself" the tallest boy said. handing Blaine his red zip-up hoodie.

"I can drive home and look it up on YouTube by myself if you prefer" Blaine threatened.

"You are not driving home" Sebastian spat, actually horrified. "You are not" he repeated again.

"Show me the video then" brushing a gel-free curl out of his forehead, he looked at his friend who sighed.

"Can we go to the hospital first?" Bas tried.

"Again, I can drive home and look the video up on YouTube. Only me and my injuries…"

"Let's get you to that shitty apartment you have…" the greenish-blue eyed boy surrendered, helping his friend up.

"For being so shitty you spend half of your life there, Mr. Sebastian Fancy Smythe…" the shortest boy teased.

"Shut up"

An hour and twenty minutes later, Blaine's slightly better mood had deceased as the minutes of the YouTube video went on, his aching injuries all over his body being painfully and clearly illustrated.

"Turn it off" he groaned in between gritted teeth.

"I thought you wanted to see it…" Sebastian sassed, whose look said 'I told you so' in bold, underlined, capital letters.

"Just turn it off, Sebastian!" the black-haired boy roared, turning around in his bed so he couldn't see the computer screen, where he was still getting beat up.

His friend sighed, standing up from the armchair -where he had been exiled after his various (and unsuccessful) attempts hitting on Blaine- and pausing the video. "Do you want me to turn it off to?" he didn't get a response. "I'd take that as a yes" turning the computer off, he turned to face his friend. "I don't feel like sleeping on the couch, so I'll get a cab and head home, call me if you need anything… Goodnight, Blaine" that didn't get a response either.

Before turning the lights off, the half-french boy looked at what he could probably consider his best friend. He had liked Blaine, a lot. More than he had liked any other guy, which was actually not much, because he was the 'just for a night' kind of guy. Blaine on the other hand… he didn't have a boyfriend right now, but he had made very clear that Sebastian wasn't his kind of guy. 'Just friends, Smythe. Understood? Remember?' he repeated over and over every time Sebastian got a little too close. But the youngest boy had got over it and continued with his late night bars life. Or at least he tried to when Blaine didn't have a combat, or he did. Curled up on his side, said boy looked terrible, even worse than the past four times he had been absolutely knocked out by gym boxers.

"Oh, Blaine. If you could just give it up and live with last year's glory…" he muttered before closing the bedroom door.

Blaine heard him.