Author Notes: Wow, so I fail. It totally took me a whole week to work out that to start receiving alerts again I just needed to re-enable them on my account. So all that EFFORT of seeking out the stories I follow for a whole week was entirely pointless. It may not be the biggest hardship, but as I've been so reliably informed, I have the attention span of a five year old, and until now I never realised how utterly dependent I am on story alerts for my fic-fix. I think this site may be taking over my life...again. I blame Glee.
This I why I shouldn't write author notes late at night. I babble. The REAL point I wanted to make was - thank you for all your support! It makes me happy to know that people are actually reading this! So I hope you stick with me! At the moment, I'm sort of writing this 'real-time', and I'm trying to handle this as well as I can. I really want everyone's reactions to come across as realistic.
Chapter Three
Kurt awoke to a soft knock on his bedroom door. It took him a second to orientate himself as he blearily opened his eyes to see the face of the gorgeous boy who he had woken up entangled with. And then his sleepy smile faded, and that sick feeling in the pit of his stomach returned as he remembered why Blaine was in his arms in the first place. His muscles, that had been so relaxed from sleep, tensed as he suddenly couldn't bear to make a movement lest he wake Blaine and wipe that peaceful calm from the other boy's sleeping visage.
The door crept open, and Kurt was reminded why he had woken up in the first place; it was Carole, her face soft as she took in the scene before her. Barely above a whisper, she murmured, "Time to get up, Kurt. You still have school today."
If Blaine hadn't been asleep against him, Kurt would have exploded angrily, but as it was, he somehow managed to hiss back at a surprisingly quiet volume, considering the haughty venom he laced into his tone, "How can you think I'd go to school after what's happened? I'm not going to leave Blaine!"
Carole remained impassive. "Your dad and I have talked about this already. I'm going to stay home until Blaine's aunt arrives, which should be pretty soon. Blaine will be with her all day at least – there's nothing you can do right now, sweetie."
Blaine stirred slightly without waking, but it was enough to deflate Kurt slightly. He knew where the adults were coming from, but that didn't mean he had to like it. He had promised himself that he would be there for Blaine all of the way… He decided to fall to a middle ground, for now. "I'll get ready for school while Blaine's still sleeping, but if he wakes up and wants me to stay, then I will."
Carole recognised the stubbornness she so often saw in her husband, and knew that was as good as it was going to get for now. Burt would have to try before he left for work. "Breakfast will be ready by the time you both come down. We want to see you no later than eight."
Kurt nodded, taking a glance at the clock, happy to see that his stepmom had left him just enough time to get ready; an hour should be okay. As Carole closed the door behind her, Kurt sighed deeply, trying to gather strength for when Blaine woke up; what did he say? How would Blaine be? They hadn't spoken when Blaine had slipped into his room in the middle of the night, and then, it hadn't been necessary. But now, in the light of the cool September morning…it was different.
Gently, Kurt managed to untangle himself from his boyfriend and slide out of bed, painfully reminded of another time when he had done just that. Only that time, with a soon-to-be-hungover Blaine, it had been charged with thoughts that now seemed so trivial, at a time when their relationship had been completely different.
At seven forty five, Kurt had reached the outfit-selection part of his morning routine, and was, to be frank, stuck. What was he supposed to wear? What was appropriate? He had worn black when he had sung for Pavarotti's death, but what if Blaine thought such a sentiment was inappropriate, or just didn't want to be reminded, or-
A soft mumbling floated from the bed behind Kurt, followed soon by a rustling of the duvet and a slow shifting of limbs as they co-ordinated themselves into wakefulness, "Morning Blaine."
Blaine shifted, blinking slowly up at Kurt, and for that one fraction of a moment, the other boy was struck with how cute his boyfriend was, sitting up in his bed with his hair askew, his borrowed black sweater swallowing his hands as he tried to scrub his face into waking up. And then the moment shattered, and Kurt could literally see the memories flooding into Blaine's conscious mind as his whole body seemed to slump and his eyes dropped to his hands as they now lay in his lap, avoiding Kurt's gaze, "Morning." The reply was forced, broken and barely audible.
Kurt just stood there for a second, barely registering that he was only in his robe, because he still hadn't decided what was appropriate to wear, and waited. He fully expected just then for a false grin to split onto Blaine's face, and it would be yesterday all over again. He did not expect the next words to spill out of the other boy's mouth, so fast that it was as if they were toxic in his mouth, "How do you arrange a funeral?"
Kurt was floored, his mouth falling open as his breath caught, and what on earth were you supposed to answer when someone asked you that? "I… Blaine… you don't have to think about that all just yet. You're allowed time to-"
"To what?" Blaine's tone wasn't aggressive, though Kurt would have understood if it had been. He would have preferred it, in all honesty, because anything was better than the utter void of emotion that was Blaine right now.
He hesitated. "I don't know…"
Their eyes were locked then, neither blinked, and Kurt couldn't stand to see the desolation in Blaine's eyes, realising with a jolt that his boyfriend was honestly just looking to him to make things make sense, to tell him what to do. Because Blaine was a lot of things, had coped and overcome a lot of crap, but this? This was all new. Blaine needed him to have the answers. And Kurt didn't. Yes, he had lost his mom. Yes, he had been forced to sit through her funeral, stand by her grave, and somehow, impossibly continue on with his life without her. And he'd managed all because…he'd had his dad. And now, he had to be that person for Blaine. Deep breath. Deep breath, one word at a time. Stay calm.
With more serenity than he felt inside, Kurt gently sat down on the edge of his bed, reaching forwards to rest one hand over Blaine's clasped ones. Carefully, he waited until Blaine met his gaze one more, "Whatever you want to do, we can figure it out. I promise." It seemed empty; useless words that meant nothing.
Except, Blaine's mask slipped then, just for a second, "I don't know what I want," his voice cracked slightly, "I don't know what I'm supposed to do."
Kurt felt his eyes sting, and willed himself to keep control, "I don't think that there is a 'supposed to'."
But then, before more could be said, the brief reprise from false smiles and bravados was broken, as Finn once again proved his impeccable skill at appearing at just the wrong moment. The tall boy knocked as he tentatively slipped into the room, floundering slightly when he saw Blaine was awake, "H-hey. Mom said breakfast's nearly ready. She said you'd need these." He gestured slightly with the bundle of clothes in his arms, "She washed them last night so you'd have something to wear that fits…" A tiny grin ghosted across his face before it faltered awkwardly, and he put Blaine's clothes down on the foot of the bed before disappearing with an odd little wave.
"I should get dressed." That horrible normal-Blaine voice was back, "So should you – don't you have school in like an hour?"
"Blaine, I don't have to go-"
"What? Sure you do, why wouldn't you? I'm gonna grab a shower." In a blink, Blaine had broken contact, shuffling out of bed and scooping up his clothes, before disappearing altogether.
Kurt's hand remained where it was, resting against the now bereft scrunched up sheets.
Carole sat on the sofa, waiting, pretending to read her magazine. Not long ago, her son had taken Kurt by the arm and silently led him out the door so he could drive them to school. She knew that his lack of resistance must have been something to do with Blaine, because both herself and Burt had been ready to put up a fight should Kurt have come down to breakfast with a stubborn resolve. Burt had left for work not long after, leaving Carole alone in the house with Blaine, who currently sat silently in the adjacent chair, legs folded up off the floor, his unblinking gaze fixed on the carpet.
A knock on the door made them both jump visibly, but Blaine made no other movement other than to raise his gaze questioningly to Carole. The sheer blankness stabbed at the woman once more, before she rose and left him alone to answer the door, praying that from this point on things went as smoothly as possible, because Blaine needed stability right now, and she had no idea what was on the other side of that front door.
"Mrs Hummel?" There was no smile in that voice, but there was something strangely familiar in its hollow emptiness. The petite woman on her doorstep was younger than Carole, probably in her early to mid-thirties, and her brown eyes were red-rimmed; she looked exhausted. In an odd way, her clothes gave Carole some comfort; dispelling the horrible nightmare thoughts she had been having about an aloof, uncaring aunt to whom Blaine would become a burden. Dressed in a ratty pair of jeans and baggy sweater, she honestly looked like she had just picked up the first things that came to hand, uncaring of what the world around her thought, because right now, something far worse was going on to worry about something like appearances.
"Carole, please. Do you want to come in? Blaine's in the living room."
"Sarah Fielding," she summoned a wan smile then, offering her hand as she stepped into the hall, "Thank you, so much, for taking him last night. I don't think that… I just wouldn't have been good for him. You didn't have to."
"Don't be silly, of course we did. Blaine's always welcome here."
The woman nodded distantly, before recovering slightly, "I'm sorry. I just can't believe Derek's gone. It doesn't seem real. The last time I even saw him and Blaine was a little after New Year's..."
Carole somehow managed to keep the surprise (and judging) out of her expression. It wasn't like Westerville and Lima were that far apart, and to have not seen each other in that long? She couldn't help but wonder why.
"Aunt Sarah?" Blaine's tentative voice made them both turn.
"Blaine…" Sarah's voice came out in a choked breath, and Carole immediately felt that she was intruding. For a moment, no one moved or spoke, until Sarah finally took two steps and wrapped her arms tightly around her slightly taller nephew. Blaine just seemed to hug back reflexively at the sudden contact, while from where Carole was standing, she could clearly see how well Sarah was somehow keeping any tears at bay lest it upset Blaine. Finally, Blaine pulled back, smiling weakly in an uncanny reflection of his aunt's earlier polite smile to Carole. Sarah seemed to gather herself, "How you doing, sweetheart?"
Blaine just shrugged, avoiding the question, "What happens now?"
For a second, Carole watched the woman flounder, much as her sons had earlier, but she quickly recovered, "Now, you come home with me. It'll be just you and me, and we'll sort this out together, okay? One step at a time." Carole frowned; was it her imagination, or had there been something more behind those words than what had actually been said? The way she had said 'just you and me', and the way Blaine's shoulders had visibly relaxed at the reassurance of a home.
"Okay." Short sentences were starting to become a habit for the teenager, and Carole found it so hard to compute it with her stepson's usually exuberant boyfriend.
"Why don't you grab any stuff you have and go wait for me in the car, honey?"
Blaine nodded, grabbing his bag from yesterday, before really surprising Carole by stepping forwards and hugging her, "Thanks for letting me stay the night, Mrs Hummel. Tell Kurt I'll…I'll call him?"
"Of course Blaine. Like I told your aunt – you're always welcome here." She squeezed his arm for emphasis, but the blank look had returned, and he just nodded before disappearing outside.
Mrs Fielding's whole body seemed to slump as soon as Blaine was gone, "Oh god…I can't do this…"
"Yes you can." The other woman jumped, as if she had forgotten Carole was still standing next to her, "Blaine's your nephew, and you've both lost someone dear to you. You can do this."
Sarah quirked an odd smile, "I don't have kids. My husband never wanted them. I've seen Blaine once, twice a year since he was born. We might as well be strangers, but when the social worker asked me last night if I was going to honour my brother's wishes and take Blaine in, or if they should contact his mother instead, I didn't even think before I said I'd take him… God, I haven't even called Peter to tell him…"
Carole didn't really know what to say. Instead, she somehow summoned a smile that she hoped was comforting, "I can give you our number? You can give us a call, day or night."
Sarah smiled gratefully, but still frowned slightly, "Your son must be a really close friend to Blaine, for you to be so kind."
Carole's breath stuck in her throat as she realised the implications of those words, and she really hoped it just meant that the other woman just didn't know that Blaine had a boyfriend, rather than not knowing anything about her nephew. But, just in case, she wasn't about to be responsible for outing the boy, so she just patted her shoulder reassuringly, "Yes, they are."
After a quick exchange of details, both Sarah and Blaine were gone, and Carole gathered herself to make some calls to her family, knowing each would want an update.
No one knew how to act. This was so much closer to home than when Sue's sister had died, yet slightly more removed than when Burt Hummel had been in hospital battling for his life. Blaine was one of them, but still, not quite. He was 'Kurt's Boyfriend' to most of them, and only really Finn and Rachel could properly call themselves the teen's actual friends. Even through all the hang-outs over the summer, Blaine was still in that odd niche, the best friend of a best friend, who you joked and behaved like a friend to, but were in no way close enough to deal with something like this.
So, everyone was falling back on what seemed like the next logical step. – namely, continuously asking Kurt if he was okay.
And what kind of a question was that? No, he wasn't okay, of course he wasn't – his boyfriend, his incredible, beautiful boyfriend, had just lost his father at the age of seventeen! So no, Kurt wasn't okay, but that paled in comparison to what Blaine was going through, and how dare people treat him like glass, as if it had been his own father who had died? Couldn't they see? Didn't they understand? Blaine's dad was dead, he wasn't coming back, and so what place was theirs to dare to ask if Kurt was okay?
It was probably for this reason that Kurt had found himself eating his lunch with Santana and Brittany, of all people. Because Santana had just looked him over once, not saying anything about what had happened. She hadn't needed to, her eyes had said it all, and wow if Kurt's opinion of the queen-bitch hadn't skyrocketed when she had simply launched into a tirade about yesterday's Rachel diva drama. Brittany had equally not said anything, just sitting there, every now and again throwing in her usual random comments, until, that is, when the bell rang. And then the tall blonde had just hugged Kurt – like, really hugged him. And before he could even form any kind of verbal response, she had just said, as serious and Brittany as you please, that this meant that the next time he hugged Blaine, it would be the best, because he'd be getting a hug from two people.
Kurt had just stood there, unable to define the horrible cloying sensation in his throat as he desperately tried to gather himself. Santana had just smiled sadly, nodding a goodbye to him as they left for class, and Kurt had thought that maybe he could make it through this day after all.
By the time classes were finally over for the afternoon, Kurt was exhausted. He was so glad it was Friday. He hadn't been able to concentrate; not at all expecting to hear from Blaine, yet equally, unable to stop reflexively checking his phone, unable to stop wondering what Blaine was doing. His exhaustion was only matched, he realised, in his step-brother, the taller boy's face weary as he waited for Kurt, leaning against the car they shared, "Hey dude."
Kurt rarely heard such despondency from Finn, and it really didn't seem right, "Hey. You ready?"
"Sure." Monosyllabic was the key.
The drive home was silent; Finn didn't even play any music. Was this what it was like? What it was going to be like? Tip-toeing around everything, terrified, because what teenager functioned well in situations like this?
He would say 'Blaine', but that just really wasn't true, because 'functioning well' in Kurt's definition of the term, when it came to the death of a loved one, was not acting normal. And he was back again, on the same topic that had been smothering him all day. How was he supposed to behave when his boyfriend was exactly the same, over-achieving, insanely smiling Warbler he had always been? Apart from when he had got into bed with Kurt last night, Blaine had just been Blaine, and in those few instances when the mask had slipped, he had just been…blank. So what-
Oh god. Kurt's thoughts screeched to a halt. Dalton. The Warblers. Wes, David, and all of Blaine's friends – they had no idea. And considering the way Blaine was clearly not coping in any kind of functioning manner right now, Kurt really doubted that the boy would be in any kind of mind to actually pick up the phone and tell them. Nor should he have to. But they were his friends, and they could help, and Kurt knew that this meant only one thing – he would have to be that guy. He would have to be the one to tell Blaine's friends what had happened, to break into the bubble of normal teen drama with a poisonous dose of real life, and make them just like Kurt, Finn and the rest of the New Directions – completely clueless for what this means for them as the people closest to Blaine. As the only people Blaine had left in the world.
Kurt phone buzzed, and in his panic, he half expected it to be Wes. But it wasn't.
Hey. Are you busy? Xx
It was Blaine. Kurt's fingers flew across the screen of his phone, his mind simultaneously trying to construct an appropriate reply.
Never busy for you – you want to meet up? Just left school now. Xxx
The reply was nigh on immediate, but to Kurt it seemed like hours, hours in which he didn't even breathe.
Is that okay? I'm at my aunts house. You able to come round? Xxx
"Finn, we're taking a detour. Can you drop me at Blaine's?"
"Err…sure dude, but I didn't think he was going back to Westerville today?"
"Obviously." Kurt snipped back, and completely missed the weird quirky little grin that Finn pulled at hearing the familiar sass from his brother.
Just give me the address. I'm already on the road. Xxx
"You know how to drive here?" Kurt waved Blaine's most recent reply under Finn's nose as the boy slowed down slightly in his driving.
Finn's eyebrows rose in slight surprise, "Sure I do – isn't that like, right across the street from where Santana lives?"
Kurt frowned, looking back at the address, "Huh."
"You want me to stick around?" Despite himself, Kurt had to hide a smile at Finn's tentative tone. Clearly Santana's repeated 'Lima Heights' threats had made a profound impact on his stepbrother's psyche. The neighbourhood wasn't that bad…
Okay, so that guy on the corner was a little bit weird, but overall, it was just a slightly run down area of Lima. As far as Kurt was concerned, the whole of his hometown was a backward dive – a little more peeled paint didn't really make a difference.
"I don't know how long this'll take…"
"Dude, it's fine. I'll go see Santana or something." Finn shrugged, clearly not liking the prospect of going home to Burt without his son.
Kurt eyed Finn for a second, but his skin felt tight and he found it hard to keep a clear head – he needed to be in that house. He needed to see Blaine. He needed to know the reasons and the words behind those horribly inadequate texts.
A sharp rapping on the window made them both jerk their focuses away from each other, to turn to the driver's side window and see a very confused and irate looking Santana. Why she was irate, Kurt wasn't really sure, but then, it was Santana; she didn't really need a reason to be pissed off with someone.
"I won't be too long." Kurt shot Finn a soft, semi-brave smile, getting out of the car, "Hey Santana."
"Kurt, what..?" Santana trailed off with an odd look on her face as Kurt pinpointed the right house and walked up the paved drive.
Steeling himself, Kurt raised his hand to knock, but the door opened just before he did so, revealing a harried looking woman, who jumped a little in shock when she nearly fell over a teenage boy on her doorstep. She blinked, nonplussed, "Can I…can I help you?"
"My name's Kurt Hummel, I'm-"
The woman cut him off, "Of course, Blaine's friend. Sorry, honey, I was just heading out to get something for us to eat tonight. He's just in the kitchen."
Kurt was about to say something, after all, her brother had just died, but he was cut off rather rudely by her cell, which she dived into her bag for, and was already halfway down the drive, badly juggling keys and phone, "Peter?...No, no, I'm just glad you called…"
Kurt stop bothering to listen to the rest, his attention now wholly fixed on the front door of this new, alien house, now ajar from where the woman hadn't bothered to shut it. He pushed it open the rest of the way, and paused. This didn't feel right. He didn't know that woman, and this just wasn't Blaine's house. Blaine's house was in Westerville. Blaine's house was warm, and happy, because it belonged to Blaine…
"Hey."
Kurt looked to the left, and there was his boyfriend. He viciously stifled any pity that tried to well within himself, both for Blaine and for himself, because pity was not what he wanted to feel here, nor what Blaine needed. "Hey."
To Be Continued…
Author Notes: So...I have been told by my beta that this chapter was worth posting, because I'm personally not a big fan of how it turned out. I feel like it's my longest chapter yet, but I didn't really achieve much. Other than introduce the aunt... So I'd really love to know your opinions on this instalment if you could?
