Hello thereee, a looong chapter ahead, hope you like it. No Dalton boys here! See you below =)
In my dream it was very dark, and what dim light there was seemed to be radiating from Kurt's skin. I could see his face, as he walked away from me, looking to me with his incredible eyes. No matter how fast I ran, I couldn't catch up to him; no matter how loud I called, he never turned. Troubled, I woke in the middle of the night and couldn't sleep again for what seemed like a very long time. After that, he was in my dreams nearly every night, but always on the periphery, never within reach.
The month that followed the accident was uneasy, tense, and, at first, embarrassing.
To my dismay, I found myself the center of attention for the rest of that week. Mike Chang was impossible, following me around, obsessed with making amends to me somehow. I tried to convince him what I wanted more than anything else was for him to forget all about it — especially since nothing had actually happened to me — but he remained insistent. He followed me between classes and sat at our now-crowded lunch table. Which made me worry that I'd gained another unwelcome fan.
No one seemed concerned about Kurt, though I explained over and over that he was the hero — how he had pulled me out of the way and had nearly been crushed, too. I tried to be convincing. Quinn, Finn, Rachel, and everyone else always commented that they hadn't even seen him there till the van was pulled away.
I wondered to myself why no one else had seen him standing so far away, before he was suddenly, impossibly saving my life. With chagrin, I realized the probable cause — no one else was as aware of Kurt as I always was. No one else watched him the way I did. How pitiful.
Kurt was never surrounded by crowds of curious bystanders eager for his firsthand account. People avoided him as usual. The Hummel's and the Hudson's sat at the same table as always, not eating, talking only among themselves. None of them, especially Kurt, glanced my way anymore.
When he sat next to me in class, as far from me as the table would allow, he seemed totally unaware of my presence. Only now and then, when his fists would suddenly ball up — skin stretched even whiter over the bones — did I wonder if he wasn't quite as oblivious as he appeared.
He wished he hadn't pulled me from the path of Mike's van — there was no other conclusion I could come to.
I wanted very much to talk to him, and the day after the accident I tried. The last time I'd seen him, outside the ER, we'd both been so furious. I still was angry that he wouldn't trust me with the truth, even though I was keeping my part of the bargain flawlessly. But he had in fact saved my life, no matter how he'd done it. And, overnight, the heat of my anger faded into awed gratitude.
He was already seated when I got to Biology, looking straight ahead. I sat down, expecting him to turn toward me. He showed no sign that he realized I was there.
"Hi, Kurt," I said pleasantly, to show him I was going to behave myself.
He turned his head a fraction toward me without meeting my gaze, nodded once, and then looked the other way.
And that was the last contact I'd had with him, though he was there, a foot away from me, every day. I watched him sometimes, unable to stop myself— from a distance, though, in the cafeteria or parking lot. I watched as his green-blue-gray eyes grew perceptibly darker day by day. But in class I gave no more notice that he existed than he showed toward me. I was miserable. And the dreams continued.
Finn, at least, was pleased by the obvious coolness between me and my lab partner. I could see he'd been worried that Kurt´s daring rescue might have impressed me, and he was relieved that it seemed to have the opposite effect. He grew more confident, sitting on the edge of my table to talk before Biology class started, ignoring Kurt as completely as he ignored us.
The snow washed away for good after that one dangerously icy day. Finn was disappointed he'd never gotten to stage his snowball fight, but pleased that the beach trip would soon be possible. The rain continued heavily, though, and the weeks passed.
Quinn made me aware of another event looming on the horizon — she called the first Tuesday of March to ask me to go with her to the girls' choice spring dance in two weeks.
"Ehm sorry what?".
"Come on Blaine, honey I'm your perfect partner for the dance , you know that Berry is too short, even for you." she glared at me, trying to catch my arm,
"No, Quinn, First I'm not going," I assured her. Dancing was glaringly outside my range of abilities.
"But It will be really fun!" Her attempt to convince me was halfhearted. I suspected that Quinn enjoyed my inexplicable popularity more than my actual company.
"Second…"I doubt " just ask Finn" I encouraged.
The next day, I was surprised that Quinn wasn't her usual gushing self in Trig and Spanish. She was silent as she walked by my side between classes, and I was afraid to ask her why. If Finn had turned her down, I was the last person she would want to tell.
My fears were strengthened during lunch when Quinn sat as far from Finn as possible, chatting animatedly with Rachel. Oh, so he invited her? What a surprise..
Finn was unusually quiet.
Finn was still quiet as he walked me to class, the uncomfortable look on his face a bad sign. But he didn't broach the subject until I was in my seat and he was perched on my desk. As always, I was electrically aware of Kurt sitting close enough to touch, as distant as if he were merely an invention of my imagination.
"So," Finn said, looking at the floor, "Quinn asked me to the spring dance, but Rachel asked me first, and I really don't know what to do dude, I like them both"
"They are nice girls" I made my voice bright and enthusiastic. "but I think you will have a lot of fun with Rach"
"but you know Quinn is super-hot too."
"Eeh, not really, I mean yeah sure" I say looking anywhere but his face.
"Who would you take dude, I think that ginger girl from gym it's going to ask you"
My face was bright red as he looked down again.
"Actually Finn, I'm not going, I just don't like dancing" with girls, I thought while I look at Kurt from the corner of my eye.
"Oh dude that's sucks, why don't you just ask anybody and come?" He told me.
I paused for a moment, hating the wave of guilt that swept through me. But I saw, from the corner of my eye, Kurt's head tilt reflexively in my direction.
"The person who I would ask would say no", I say shortly,
"OMG, you want to go with Rachel?, I'm so sorry dude, why didn't you tell me? I can say her I will go with Quinn if you like"
I sighed, "Finn, I think you should know, that I don't like girls," I said.
"What do you mean?" he look at me like I was an alien.
"I'm gay, Finn" I whisper.
"oOooh , it's okay dude, my dad best friend is gay too, I'm cool with it", he say smiling proudly like he has just accepted an Oscar, "Why don't you just ask somebody?" Did Kurt notice how Finn´s eyes flickered in his direction?
"No," I assured him. "I'm not going to the dance at all."
"Why?" he demanded.
I didn't want to get into the safety hazards that dancing presented, so I quickly made new plans.
"I'm going to Westerville that day" I explained. I needed to get out of town anyway — it was suddenly the perfect time to go.
"Can't you go some other weekend?"
"Sorry, no," I said. "So you shouldn't make your partner wait any longer."
"Yeah, you're right," he mumbled, and turned, dejected, to walk back to his seat. I closed my eyes and pressed my fingers to my temples, trying to push the headache out of my head. Mr. Banner began talking. I sighed and opened my eyes.
And Kurt was staring at me curiously, that same, familiar edge of frustration even more distinct now in his dark Blue eyes. I stared back, surprised, expecting him to look quickly away. But instead he continued to gaze with probing intensity into my eyes. There was no question of me looking away. My hands started to shake.
"Mr. Hummel?" the teacher called, seeking the answer to a question that I hadn't heard.
"The Krebs Cycle," Kurt answered in his high soft voice, as he turned to look at Mr. Banner.
I looked down at my book as soon as his eyes released me, trying to find my place. Cowardly as ever. I couldn't believe the rush of emotion pulsing through me — just because he'd happened to look at me for the first time in a half-dozen weeks. I couldn't allow him to have this level of influence over me. It was pathetic. More than pathetic, it was unhealthy.
I tried very hard not to be aware of him for the rest of the hour, and, since that was impossible, at least not to let him know that I was aware of him. When the bell rang at last, I turned my back to him to gather my things, expecting him to leave immediately as usual.
"Blaine?" His voice shouldn't have been so familiar to me, as if I'd known the sound of it all my life rather than for just a few short weeks.
I turned slowly, unwillingly. I didn't want to feel what I knew I would feel when I looked at his too-perfect face. My expression was wary when I finally turned to him; his expression was unreadable. He didn't say anything.
"What? Are you speaking to me again?" I finally asked an unintentional note of petulance in my voice.
His lips twitched, fighting a smile. "No, not really," he admitted.
I closed my eyes and inhaled slowly through my nose, aware that I was gritting my teeth. He waited.
"Then what do you want, Kurt?" I asked, keeping my eyes closed; it was easier to talk to him coherently that way.
"I'm sorry." He sounded sincere. "I'm being very rude, I know. But it's better this way, really."
I opened my eyes. His face was very serious.
"I don't know what you mean," I said, my voice guarded.
"It's better if we're not friends," he explained. "Trust me."
My eyes narrowed. I'd heard that before.
"It's because I'm gay? Too bad you didn't figure that out earlier," I hissed through my teeth. "You could have saved yourself all this regret."
"Regret?" The word, and my tone, obviously caught him off guard. "Regret for what?"
"For not just letting that stupid van squish me."
He was astonished. He stared at me in disbelief.
When he finally spoke, he almost sounded mad. "You think I regret saving your life, cause you love men?"
"I know you do," I snapped.
"You don't know anything." He was definitely mad.
I turned my head sharply away from him, clenching my jaw against all the wild accusations I wanted to hurl at him. I gathered my books together, then stood and walked to the door. I meant to sweep dramatically out of the room, but of course I caught the toe of my boot on the door jamb and dropped my books. I stood there for a moment, thinking about leaving them. Then I sighed and bent to pick them up. He was there; he'd already stacked them into a pile. He handed them to me, his porcelain face in a hard expression.
"Thank you," I said icily.
His eyes narrowed.
"You're welcome," he retorted.
I straightened up swiftly, turned away from him again, and stalked off to Gym without looking back.
Gym was brutal. We'd moved on to basketball. My team never passed me the ball, so that was good, but I fell down a lot. Sometimes I took people with me. Today I was worse than usual because my head was so filled with Kurt. I tried to concentrate on my feet, but he kept creeping back into my thoughts just when I really needed my balance.
It was a relief, as always, to leave. I almost ran to the truck; there were just so many people I wanted to avoid. The truck had suffered only minimal damage in the accident. I'd had to replace the taillights, and if I'd had a real paint job, I would have touched that up. Mike 's parents had to sell their van for parts.
I almost had a stroke when I rounded the corner and saw a tall, dark figure leaning against the side of my truck. Then I realized it was just Tina. I started walking again.
"Hey, Tina," I called.
"Hi, Blaine."
"What's up?" I said as I was unlocking the door. I wasn't paying attention to the uncomfortable edge in her voice, so her next words took me by surprise.
"Uh, I was just wondering… if you would go to the spring dance with me? " Her voice broke on the last word.
I froze. "hum , what? I thought you would go with Mike" I said, too startled to be diplomatic.
"Well, yeah, but I couldn't ask him, Quinn did it," she admitted, shamefaced.
I recovered my composure and tried to make my smile warm. "Thank you for asking me, but I'm going Westerville that day."
"Oh," she said. "Well, maybe next time."
"Sure," I agreed, and then bit my lip. I wouldn't want her to take that too literally.
She slouched off, back toward the school. I heard a low chuckle.
Kurt was walking past the front of my truck, looking straight forward, his lips pressed together. I yanked the door open and jumped inside, slamming it loudly behind me. I revved the engine deafeningly and reversed out into the aisle. Kurt was in his car already, two spaces down, sliding out smoothly in front of me, cutting me off. He stopped there — to wait for his family; I could see the four of them walking this way, but still by the cafeteria. I considered taking out the rear of his shiny Volvo, but there were too many witnesses. I looked in my rearview mirror. A line was beginning to form. Directly behind me, Mike Chang was in his recently acquired used Sentra, waving. I was too aggravated to acknowledge him.
I drove home slowly, carefully, muttering to myself the whole way.
When I got home, I decided to make chicken enchiladas for dinner. It was a long process, and it would keep me busy. While I was simmering the onions and chilies, the phone rang. I was almost afraid to answer it, but it might be Joe
It was Finn, and he was jubilant; he was trying to invite me to a guy's night to play GOD 3 in the PS3, I declined politely saying I had a lot of homework to do.
After I hung up, I tried to concentrate on dinner — dicing the chicken especially; I didn't want to take another trip to the emergency room. But my head was spinning, trying to analyze every word Kurt had spoken today. What did he mean, it was better if we weren't friends?
My stomach twisted as I realized what he must have meant. He must see how absorbed I was by him; he must not want to lead me on… so we couldn't even be friends… because he wasn't interested in men at all.
Of course he wasn't interested in me, I thought angrily, my eyes stinging — a delayed reaction to the onions. I wasn't interesting. And he was. Interesting… and brilliant… and mysterious… and perfect… and beautiful… and possibly able to lift full-sized vans with one hand. Well, that was fine. I could leave him alone. I would leave him alone. I would get through my self-imposed sentence here in purgatory, and then hopefully some school in the Southwest, or possibly Hawaii, would offer me a scholarship. I focused my thoughts on sunny beaches and palm trees as I finished the enchiladas and put them in the oven.
Joe seemed suspicious when he came home and smelled the green peppers. I couldn't blame him — I mean, with my dad experiment. But he was a cop, even if just a small-town cop, so he was brave enough to take the first bite. He seemed to like it. It was fun to watch as he slowly began trusting me in the kitchen.
"Nonno?" I asked when he was almost done.
"Yeah, Blainers?"
"Um, I just wanted to let you know that I'm going to Westerville for the day a week from Saturday… if that's okay?" I didn't want to ask permission — it set a bad precedent — but I felt rude, so I tacked it on at the end.
"Why?" He sounded surprised, as if he were unable to imagine me camping.
"Well, I wanted to but some new strings for my guitar" I joke
"Are you going all by yourself?" he asked, and I couldn't tell if he was suspicious I had a secret boyfriend or just worried about car trouble.
"Yes."
"you could get lost," he fretted.
"Nonno, don't worry about it."
"Do you want me to come with you?"
I tried to be crafty as I hid my horror.
"That's all right, Nonno, I'll probably just be playing with Luna all day — very boring." Yeah I name my guitar, sew me.
"Oh, okay."
"Thanks." I smiled at him.
"Will you be back in time for the dance?"
Grrr. Only in a town this small would a grandfather know when the high school dances were.
"No — I don't dance, Nonno." He, of all people, should understand that — I didn't get my balance problems from my mother's side of the family.
He did understand. "Oh, that's right," he realized.
The next morning, when I pulled into the parking lot, I deliberately parked as far as possible from the silver Volvo. I didn't want to put myself in the path of too much temptation and end up owing him a new car. Getting out of the cab, I fumbled with my key and it fell into a puddle at my feet. As I bent to get it, a white hand flashed out and grabbed it before I could. I jerked upright. Kurt Hummel was right next to me, leaning casually against my truck.
"How do you do that?" I asked in amazed irritation.
"Do what?" He held my key out as he spoke. As I reached for it, he dropped it into my palm.
"Appear out of thin air."
"Blaine, it's not my fault if you are exceptionally unobservant." His voice was high as usual — velvet, muted.
I scowled at his perfect face. His eyes were light again today, a blue, green, gray color. Then I had to look down, to reassemble my now-tangled thoughts.
"Why the traffic jam last night?" I demanded, still looking away. "I thought you were supposed to be pretending I don't exist, not irritating me to death."
"I was giving Tina a chance" He snickered.
"You…" I gasped. I couldn't think of a bad enough word. It felt like the heat of my anger should physically burn him, but he only seemed more amused.
"And I'm not pretending you don't exist," he continued swaying lightly while walking
"So you are trying to irritate me to death? Since Mike 's van didn't do the job?"
Anger flashed in his bright eyes. His lips pressed into a hard line, all signs of humor gone.
"Blaine, you are utterly absurd," he said, his low voice cold.
My palms tingled — I wanted so badly to hit something. I was surprised at myself. I was usually a nonviolent person. I turned my back and started to walk away.
"Wait," he called. I kept walking, sloshing angrily through the rain. But he was next to me, easily keeping pace.
"I'm sorry, that was rude," he said as we walked. I ignored him. "I'm not saying it isn't true," he continued, "but it was rude to say it, anyway."
"Why won't you leave me alone?" I grumbled.
"I wanted to ask you something, but you sidetracked me," he almost sang. He seemed to have recovered his good humor.
"Do you have a multiple personality disorder?" I asked severely.
"You're doing it again."
I sighed." Fine then. What do you want to ask?"
"I was wondering if, a week from Saturday — you know, the day of the spring dance —"
"Are you trying to be funny ?" I interrupted him, wheeling toward him. My face got drenched as I looked up at his expression.
His eyes were wickedly amused. "Will you please allow me to finish?"
I bit my lip and clasped my hands together, interlocking my fingers, so I couldn't do anything rash.
"I heard you say you were going to Westerville that day, and I was wondering if you wanted a ride."
That was unexpected.
"What?" I wasn't sure what he was getting at.
"Do you want some company ?"
"With who?" I asked, mystified.
"Only the most glamorous person ever, myself, obviously." He enunciated every syllable, as if he were talking to someone mentally handicapped.
I was still stunned. "Why?"
"Well, I was planning to go to Westerville in the next few weeks, and, to be honest, I'm not sure if your truck can make it."
"My truck works just fine, thank you very much for your concern." I started to walk again, but I was too surprised to maintain the same level of anger.
"But can your truck make it there on one tank of gas?" He matched my pace again.
"I don't see how that is any of your business." Stupid, handsome shiny Volvo owner.
"The wasting of finite resources is everyone's business."
"Honestly, Kurt." I felt a thrill go through me as I said his name, and I hated it. "I can't keep up with you. I thought you didn't want to be my friend."
"I said it would be better if we weren't friends, not that I didn't want to be."
"Oh, thanks, now that's all cleared up. "Heavy sarcasm. I realized I had stopped walking again. We were under the shelter of the cafeteria roof now, so I could more easily look at is face. Which certainly didn't help my clarity of thought.
"It would be more…prudent for you not to be my friend," he explained. "But I'm tired of trying to stay away from you, Blaine."
His eyes were gloriously intense as he uttered that last sentence, his voice smoldering. I couldn't remember how to breathe.
"Will you go with me to Westerville ?" he asked, still intense.
I couldn't speak yet, so I just nodded.
He smiled briefly, and then his face became serious.
"You really should stay away from me," he warned. "I'll see you in class."
He turned abruptly and walked back the way we'd come.
I made my way to English in a daze. I didn't even realize when I first walked in that class had already started.
"Thank you for joining us, Mister Anderson," Mr. Mason said in a disparaging tone. I flushed and hurried to my seat.
It wasn't till class ended that I realized Finn wasn't sitting in his usual seat next to me. I felt a twinge of guilt. But he and Rachel both met me at the door as usual, so I figured I wasn't totally unforgiven, it was just a boy's night wasn't? Finn seemed to become more himself as we walked, gaining enthusiasm as he talked about the weather report for this weekend. The rain was supposed to take a minor break, and so maybe his beach trip would be possible. I tried to sound eager, to make up for disappointing him yesterday. It was hard; rain or no rain, it would still only be in the high forties, if we were lucky.
The rest of the morning passed in a blur. It was difficult to believe that I hadn't just imagined what Kurt had said, and the way his eyes had looked. Maybe it was just a very convincing dream that I'd confused with reality. That seemed more probable than that I really appealed to him on any level.
So I was impatient and frightened as Quinn and I entered the cafeteria. I wanted to see his face, to see if he'd gone back to the cold, indifferent person I'd known for the last several weeks. Or if, by some miracle, I'd really heard what I thought I'd heard this morning. Quinn babbled on and on about her dance plans.
Disappointment flooded through me as my eyes unerringly focused on his table. The other four were there, but he was absent. Had he gone home? I followed the still-babbling Quinn through the line, crushed. I'd lost my appetite — I bought nothing but a bottle of lemonade. I just wanted to go sit down and sulk.
"Kurt Hummel is staring at you again," Quinn said, finally breaking through my abstraction with his name. "I wonder why he's sitting alone today."
My head snapped up. I followed her gaze to see Kurt, half-smiling, staring at me from an empty table across the cafeteria from where he usually sat. Once he'd caught my eye, he raised one hand and motioned with his index finger for me to join him. As I stared in disbelief, he winked.
Omg, did he just wink?
"Does he mean you ?" Quinn asked with insulting astonishment in her voice.
"Maybe he needs help with his Biology homework," I muttered for her benefit. "Um, I'd better go see what he wants."
I could feel her staring after me as I walked away.
When I reached his table, I stood behind the chair across from him, unsure.
"Why don't you sit with me today?" he asked, smiling.
I sat down automatically, watching him with caution. He was still smiling. It was hard to believe that someone so beautiful could be real. I was afraid that he might disappear in a sudden puff of smoke, and I would wake up.
He seemed to be waiting for me to say something.
"This is different," I finally managed.
"Well…" He paused, and then the rest of the words followed in a rush. "I decided as long as I was going to hell, I might as well do it thoroughly."
I waited for him to say something that made sense. The seconds ticked by.
"You know I don't have any idea what you mean," I eventually pointed out.
"I know." He smiled again, and then he changed the subject. "I think your friends are angry with me for stealing you."
"They'll survive." I could feel their stares boring into my back.
"I may not give you back, though," he said with a wicked glint in his eyes.
I gulped.
He laughed. "You look worried."
"No," I said, but, ridiculously, my voice broke. "Surprised, actually… what brought all this on?"
"I told you — I got tired of trying to stay away from you. So I'm giving up." He was still smiling, but his bright eyes were serious.
"Giving up?" I repeated in confusion.
"Yes — giving up trying to be good. I'm just going to do what I want now, and let the chips fall where they may." His smile faded as he explained, and a hard edge crept into his voice.
"You lost me again."
The breathtaking crooked smile reappeared.
"I always say too much when I'm talking to you — that's one of the problems."
"Don't worry — I don't understand any of it," I said wryly.
"I'm counting on that."
"So, in plain English, are we friends now?"
"Friends…" he mused, dubious.
"Or not," I muttered.
He grinned. "Well, we can try, I suppose. But I'm warning you now that I'm not a good friend for you." Behind his smile, the warning was real.
"You say that a lot," I noted, trying to ignore the sudden trembling in my stomach and keep my voice even.
"Yes, because you're not listening to me. I'm still waiting for you to believe it. If you're smart, you'll avoid me."
"I think you've made your opinion on the subject of my intellect clear, too." My eyes narrowed.
He smiled apologetically.
"So, as long as I'm being… not smart, we'll try to be friends?" I struggled to sum up the confusing exchange.
"That sounds about right."
I looked down at my hands wrapped around the lemonade bottle, not sure what to do now.
"What are you thinking?" he asked curiously.
I looked up into his deep blue-green-gray eyes, became befuddled, and, as usual, blurted out the truth.
"I'm trying to figure out what you are."
His jaw tightened, but he kept his smile in place with some effort.
"Are you having any luck with that?" he asked in an offhand tone.
"Not too much," I admitted.
He chuckled. "What are your theories?"
I blushed. I had been vacillating during the last month between x-men and fairy tales. There was no way I was going to own up to that.
"Won't you tell me?" he asked, tilting his head to one side with a shockingly tempting smile.
I shook my head. "Too embarrassing."
"That's really frustrating, you know," he complained.
"No," I disagreed quickly, my eyes narrowing, "I can't imagine why that would be frustrating at all — just because someone refuses to tell you what they're thinking, even if all the while they're making cryptic little remarks specifically designed to keep you up at night wondering what they could possibly mean… now, why would that be frustrating?"
He grimaced.
"Or better," I continued, the pent-up annoyance flowing freely now, "say that person also did a wide range of bizarre things — from saving your life under impossible circumstances one day to treating you like a pariah the next, and he never explained any of that, either, even after he promised. That, also, would be very non-frustrating."
"You've got a bit of a temper, don't you?"
"I don't like double standards."
We stared at each other, unsmiling.
He glanced over my shoulder, and then, unexpectedly, he snickered.
"What?"
"Your Girlfriend seems to think I'm being unpleasant to you — he's debating whether or not to come break up our fight." He snickered again.
"I don't know who you're talking about," I said frostily. "But I'm sure you're wrong, anyway."
"I'm not. I told you, most people are easy to read."
"Except me, of course."
"Yes. Except for you." His mood shifted suddenly; his eyes turned brooding. "I wonder why that is."
I had to look away from the intensity of his stare. I concentrated on unscrewing the lid of my lemonade. I took a swig, staring at the table without seeing it.
"Aren't you hungry?" he asked, distracted.
"No." I didn't feel like mentioning that my stomach was already full — of butterflies. "You?" I looked at the empty table in front of him.
"No, I'm not hungry." I didn't understand his expression — it looked like he was enjoying some private joke.
"Can you do me a favor?" I asked after a second of hesitation.
He was suddenly wary. "That depends on what you want."
"It's not much," I assured him.
He waited, guarded but curious.
"I just wondered… if you could warn me beforehand the next time you decide to ignore me for my own good. Just so I'm prepared." I looked at the lemonade bottle as I spoke, tracing the circle of the opening with my pinkie finger.
"That sounds fair." He was pressing his lips together to keep from laughing when I looked up.
"Thanks."
"Then can I have one answer in return?" he demanded.
"One."
"Tell me a theory."
Whoops. "Not that one."
"You didn't qualify, you just promised one answer," he reminded me.
"And you've broken promises yourself," I reminded him back.
"Just one theory — I won't laugh."
"Yes, you will." I was positive about that.
He looked down, and then glanced up at me through his long black lashes, his sky eyes scorching.
"Please?" he breathed, leaning toward me.
I blinked, my mind going blank. Holy crow, how did he do that?
"Er, what?" I asked, dazed.
"Please tell me just one little theory." His eyes still smoldered at me.
"Um, well, super telepathic powers?" Was he a hypnotist, too? Or was I just a hopeless pushover?
"That's not very creative," he scoffed.
"I'm sorry, that's all I've got," I said, miffed.
"You're not even close," he teased.
"No?"
"Nope."
"And you are not Professor x?"
"None."
"Damm," I sighed.
"I don't grow claws, either," he chuckled.
"You're not supposed to laugh, remember?"
He struggled to compose his face.
"I'll figure it out eventually," I warned him.
"I wish you wouldn't try." He was serious again.
"Because… ?"
"What if I'm not a superhero? What if I'm the bad guy?" He smiled playfully, but his eyes were impenetrable.
"Oh," I said, as several things he'd hinted fell suddenly into place. "I see."
"Do you?" His face was abruptly severe, as if he were afraid that he'd accidentally said too much.
"You're dangerous?" I guessed, my pulse quickening as I intuitively realized the truth of my own words. He was dangerous. He'd been trying to tell me that all along.
He just looked at me, eyes full of some emotion I couldn't comprehend.
"But not bad," I whispered, shaking my head. "No, I don't believe that you're bad."
"You're wrong." His voice was almost inaudible. He looked down, stealing my bottle lid and then spinning it on its side between his fingers. I stared at him, wondering why I didn't feel afraid. He meant what he was saying — that was obvious. But I just felt anxious, on edge… and, more than anything else, fascinated. The same way I always felt when I was near him.
The silence lasted until I noticed that the cafeteria was almost empty.
I jumped to my feet. "We're going to be late."
"I'm not going to class today," he said, twirling the lid so fast it was just a blur.
"Why not?"
"It's healthy to ditch class now and then." He smiled up at me, but his eyes were still troubled.
"Well, I'm going," I told him. I was far too big a coward to risk getting caught.
He turned his attention back to his makeshift top. "I'll see you later, then."
I hesitated, torn, but then the first bell sent me hurrying out the door — with a last glance confirming that he hadn't moved a centimeter.
As I half-ran to class, my head was spinning faster than the bottle cap. So few questions had been answered in comparison to how many new questions had been raised. At least the rain had stopped.
I was lucky; Mr. Banner wasn't in the room yet when I arrived. I settled quickly into my seat, aware that both Finn and Tina were staring at me. Tina looked resentful; Finn looked surprised, and slightly awed.
Mr. Banner came in the room then, calling the class to order. He was juggling a few small cardboard boxes in his arms. He put them down on Finn´s table, telling him to start passing them around the class.
"Okay, guys, I want you all to take one piece from each box," he said as he produced a pair of rubber gloves from the pocket of his lab jacket and pulled them on. The sharp sound as the gloves snapped into place against his wrists seemed ominous to me. "The first should be an indicator card," he went on, grabbing a white card with four squares marked on it and displaying it. "The second is a four-pronged applicator —" he held up something that looked like a nearly toothless hair pick "— and the third is a sterile microlancet." He held up a small piece of blue plastic and split it open. The barb was invisible from this distance, but my stomach flipped.
"I'll be coming around with a dropper of water to prepare your cards, so please don't start until I get to you." He began at Finn´s table again, carefully putting one drop of water in each of the four squares. "Then I want you to carefully prick your finger with the lancet…" He grabbed Finn´s hand and jabbed the spike into the tip of Mike's middle finger. Oh no. Clammy moisture broke out across my forehead.
"Put a small drop of blood on each of the prongs." He demonstrated, squeezing Finn´s finger till the blood flowed. I swallowed convulsively, my stomach heaving.
"And then apply it to the card," he finished, holding up the dripping red card for us to see. I closed my eyes, trying to hear through the ringing in my ears.
"The Red Cross is having a blood drive in Lima next weekend, so I thought you should all know your blood type." He sounded proud of himself. "Those of you who aren't eighteen yet will need a parent's permission — I have slips at my desk."
He continued through the room with his water drops. I put my cheek against the cool black tabletop and tried to hold on to my consciousness. All around me I could hear squeals, complaints, and giggles as my classmates skewered their fingers. I breathed slowly in and out through my mouth.
"Blaine, are you all right?" Mr. Banner asked. His voice was close to my head, and it sounded alarmed.
"I already know my blood type, Mr. Banner," I said in a weak voice. I was afraid to raise my head.
"Are you feeling faint?"
"Yes, sir," I muttered, internally kicking myself for not ditching when I had the chance.
"Can someone take Blaine to the nurse, please?" he called.
I didn't have to look up to know that it would be Finn who volunteered.
"Can you walk?" Mr. Banner asked.
"Yes," I whispered. Just let me get out of here, I thought. I'll crawl.
Finn seemed eager as he put his arm around my waist and pulled my arm over his shoulder. I leaned against him heavily on the way out of the classroom.
Finn towed me slowly across campus. When we were around the edge of the cafeteria, out of sight of building four in case Mr. Banner was watching, I stopped.
"Just let me sit for a minute, please?" I begged.
He helped me sit on the edge of the walk.
"And whatever you do, keep your hand in your pocket," I warned. I was still so dizzy. I slumped over on my side, putting my cheek against the freezing, damp cement of the sidewalk, closing my eyes. That seemed to help a little.
"Wow, you're green, dude," Finn said nervously.
"Blaine?" a different voice called from the distance.
No! Please let me be imagining that horribly familiar voice.
"What's wrong — is he hurt?" His voice was closer now, and he sounded upset. I wasn't imagining it. I squeezed my eyes shut, hoping to die. Or, at the very least, not to throw up.
Finn seemed stressed. "I think he's fainted. I don't know what happened, he didn't even stick his finger."
"Blaine, dear" Kurt´s voice was right beside me, relieved now. "Can you hear me?"
"No," I groaned. "Go away."
He chuckled.
"I was taking him to the nurse," Finn explained in a defensive tone, "but he wouldn't go any farther."
"I'll take him," Kurt said. I could hear the smile still in his voice. "You can go back to class."
"No," Finn protested. "I'm supposed to do it."
Suddenly the sidewalk disappeared from beneath me. My eyes flew open in shock. Kurt had scooped me up in his arms, as easily as if I weighed ten pounds instead of a hundred and ten.
"Put me down!" Please, please let me not vomit on him. He was walking before I was finished talking.
"Hey!" Finn called, already ten paces behind us.
Kurt ignored him. "You look awful," he told me, grinning.
"Put me back on the sidewalk," I moaned. The rocking movement of his walk was not helping. He held me away from his body, gingerly, supporting all my weight with just his arms — it didn't seem to bother him.
"So you faint at the sight of blood?" he asked. This seemed to entertain him.
I didn't answer. I closed my eyes again and fought the nausea with all my strength, clamping my lips together.
"And not even your own blood," he continued, enjoying himself.
I don't know how he opened the door while carrying me, but it was suddenly warm, so I knew we were inside.
"Oh my," I heard a female voice gasp.
"He fainted in Biology," Kurt explained.
I opened my eyes. I was in the office, and Kurt was striding past the front counter toward the nurse's door. Ms. Cope, the redheaded front office receptionist, ran ahead of him to hold it open. The grandmotherly nurse looked up from a novel, astonished, as Lurt swung me into the room and placed me gently on the crackly paper that covered the brown vinyl mattress on the one cot. Then he moved to stand against the wall as far across the narrow room as possible. His eyes were bright, excited.
"He's just a little faint," he reassured the startled nurse. "They're blood typing in Biology."
The nurse nodded sagely. "There's always one."
He muffled a snicker.
"Just lie down for a minute, honey; it'll pass."
"I know," I sighed. The nausea was already fading.
"Does this happen a lot?" she asked.
"Sometimes," I admitted. Kurt coughed to hide another laugh.
"You can go back to class now," she told him.
"I'm supposed to stay with him." He said this with such assured authority that — even though she pursed her lips — the nurse didn't argue it further.
"I'll go get you some ice for your forehead, dear," she said to me, and then bustled out of the room.
"You were right," I moaned, letting my eyes close.
"I usually am — but about what in particular this time?"
"Ditching is healthy." I practiced breathing evenly.
"You scared me for a minute there," he admitted after a pause. His tone made it sound like he was confessing a humiliating weakness. "I thought he was dragging your dead body off to bury it in the woods."
"Haha." I still had my eyes closed, but I was feeling more normal every minute.
"Honestly — I've seen corpses with better color. I was concerned that I might have to avenge your murder."
"Poor Finn. I'll bet he's mad."
"He absolutely loathes me," Kurt said cheerfully.
"You can't know that," I argued, but then I wondered suddenly if he could.
"I saw his face — I could tell."
"How did you see me? I thought you were ditching." I was almost fine now, though the queasiness would probably pass faster if I'd eaten something for lunch. On the other hand, maybe it was lucky my stomach was empty.
"I was in my car, listening my iPod." Such a normal response — it surprised me.
I heard the door and opened my eyes to see the nurse with a cold compress in her hand.
"Here you go, dear." She laid it across my forehead. "You're looking better," she added.
"I think I'm fine," I said, sitting up. Just a little ringing in my ears, no spinning. The mint green walls stayed where they should.
I could see she was about to make me lie back down, but the door opened just then, and Ms. Cope stuck her head in.
"We've got another one," she warned. I hopped down to free up the cot for the next invalid.
I handed the compress back to the nurse. "Here, I don't need this."
And then Finn staggered through the door, now supporting a sallow-looking Artie Abrams, another boy in our Biology class. Kurt and I drew back against the wall to give them room.
"Oh no," Kurt muttered. "Go out to the office, Blaine."
I looked up at him, bewildered.
"Trust me — go."
I spun and caught the door before it closed, darting out of the infirmary. I could feel Kurt right behind me.
"You actually listened to me." He was stunned.
"I smelled the blood," I said, wrinkling my nose. Artie wasn't sick from watching other people, like me.
"People can't smell blood," he contradicted.
"Well, I can — that's what makes me sick. It smells like rust… and salt."
He was staring at me with an unfathomable expression.
"What?" I asked.
"It's nothing."
Finn came through the door then, glancing from me to Kurt. The look he gave Kurt confirmed what Kurt had said about loathing. He looked back at me, his eyes glum.
"You look better," he accused.
"Just keep your hand in your pocket," I warned him again.
"It's not bleeding anymore," he muttered. "Are you going back to class?"
"Are you kidding? I'd just have to turn around and come back."
"Yeah, I guess… So are you going this weekend? To the beach?" While he spoke, he flashed another glare toward Kurt, who was standing against the cluttered counter, motionless as a sculpture, staring off into space.
I tried to sound as friendly as possible. "Sure, I said I was in."
"We're meeting at Quinn dad's store, at ten." His eyes flickered to Kurt again, wondering if he was giving out too much information. His body language made it clear that it wasn't an open invitation.
"I'll be there," I promised.
"I'll see you in Gym, then," he said, moving uncertainly toward the door.
"See you," I replied. He looked at me once more, his round face slightly pouting, and then as he walked slowly through the door, his shoulders slumped. A swell of sympathy washed over me. I pondered seeing his disappointed face again… in Gym
"Gym," I groaned.
"I can take care of that." I hadn't noticed Kurt moving to my side, but he spoke now in my ear. "Go sit down and look pale," he muttered.
That wasn't a challenge; I was always pale, and my recent swoon had left a light sheen of sweat on my face. I sat in one of the creaky folding chairs and rested my head against the wall with my eyes closed. Fainting spells always exhausted me.
I heard Kurt speaking softly at the counter.
"Ms. Cope?"
"Yes?" I hadn't heard her return to her desk.
"Blaine has Gym next hour, and I don't think he feels well enough. Actually, I was thinking I should take him home now. Do you think you could excuse her from class?"
His voice was like melting honey. I could imagine how much more overwhelming his eyes would be.
"Do you need to be excused, too, Kurt?" Ms. Cope fluttered. Why couldn't I do that?
"No, I have Mrs. Goff, she won't mind."
"Okay, it's all taken care of. You feel better, Blaine," she called to me. I nodded weakly, hamming it up just a bit.
"Can you walk, or do you want me to carry you again?" With his back to the receptionist, his expression became sarcastic.
"I'll walk."
I stood carefully, and I was still fine. He held the door for me, his smile polite but his eyes mocking. I walked out into the cold, fine mist that had just begun to fall. It felt nice— the first time I'd enjoyed the constant moisture falling out of the sky — as it washed my face clean of the sticky perspiration.
"Thanks," I said as he followed me out. "It's almost worth getting sick to miss Gym."
"Anytime." He was staring straight forward, squinting into the rain.
"So are you going? This Saturday, I mean?" I was hoping he would, though it seemed unlikely. I couldn't picture him loading up to carpool with the rest of the kids from school; he didn't belong in the same world. But just hoping that he might gave me the first twinge of enthusiasm I'd felt for the outing.
"Where are you all going, exactly?" He was still looking ahead, expressionless.
"Down to Dalton, to First Beach." I studied his face, trying to read it. His eyes seemed to narrow infinitesimally.
He glanced down at me from the corner of his eye, smiling wryly. "I really don't think I was invited."
I sighed. "I just invited you."
"You and I should not push poor Finn any further this week. We don't want him to snap." His eyes danced; he was enjoying the idea more than he should.
"Finn-schfinn." I muttered, preoccupied by the way he'd said "you and I." I liked it more than I should.
We were near the parking lot now. I veered left, toward my truck. Something caught my jacket, yanking me back.
"Where do you think you're going?" he asked, outraged. He was gripping a fistful of my jacket in one hand.
I was confused. "I'm going home."
"Didn't you hear me promise to take you safely home? Do you think I'm going to let you drive in your condition?" His voice was still indignant.
"What condition? And what about my truck?" I complained.
"I'll have San drop it off after school." He was towing me toward his car now, pulling me by my jacket. It was all I could do to keep from falling backward. He'd probably just drag me along anyway if I did.
"Let go!" I insisted. He ignored me. I staggered along sideways across the wet sidewalk until we reached the Volvo. Then he finally freed me — I stumbled against the passenger door.
"You are so pushy !" I grumbled.
"It's open," was all he responded. He got in the driver's side.
"I am perfectly capable of driving myself home!" I stood by the car, fuming. It was raining harder now, and I'd never put my hood up, so my hair was dripping down my back.
He lowered the automatic window and leaned toward me across the seat. "Get in, Blaine."
I didn't answer. I was mentally calculating my chances of reaching the truck before he could catch me. I had to admit, they weren't good.
"I'll just drag you back," he threatened, guessing my plan.
I tried to maintain what dignity I could as I got into his car. I wasn't very successful — I looked like a half-drowned puppy and my boots squeaked
"This is completely unnecessary," I said stiffly.
He didn't answer. He fiddled with the controls, turning the heater up and the music down. As he pulled out of the parking lot, I was preparing to give him the silent treatment — my face in full pout mode — but then I recognized the music playing, and my curiosity got the better of my intentions.
"Wicked?" I asked, surprised.
"You know Broadway?" He sounded surprised, too.
"Not well," I admitted. "I haven't seen any play live, but I love the songs, wicked its one of my favorites"
"It's one of my favorites, too." He stared out through the rain, lost in thought.
I listened to the music, relaxing against the light gray leather seat. It was impossible not to respond to the familiar, soothing melody. The rain blurred everything outside the window into gray and green smudges. I began to realize we were driving very fast; the car moved so steadily, so evenly, though, I didn't feel the speed. Only the town flashing by gave it away.
"What is your family like?" he asked me suddenly.
I glanced over to see him studying me with curious eyes.
"My dad looks a lot like me, but he's taller," I said. He raised his eyebrows. "Joy it's not my real mother, mine left us when I was a child." I stopped.
Talking about her was making me depressed.
"How old are you, Blaine?" His voice sounded frustrated for some reason I couldn't imagine. He'd stopped the car, and I realized we were at Joe´s house already. The rain was so heavy that I could barely see the house at all. It was like the car was submerged under a river.
"I'm seventeen," I responded, a little confused.
"You don't seem seventeen."
His tone was reproachful; it made me laugh.
"What?" he asked, curious again.
"My Dad always says I was born thirty-five years old and that I get more middle-aged every year." I laughed, and then sighed. "Well, someone has to be the adult." I paused for a second. "You don't seem much like a junior in high school yourself," I noted.
He made a face and changed the subject.
"So why did you think l would hate you for who you are?"
It took me a moment to answer.
"My bad experiences are hard to forget" I shook my head.
"Didn't you know I was gay too?" he asked.
My heart stop, "what?" I answered. "you don't have to tell me that just to make me feel better"
"But it's true" he mused. He was suddenly intent, his eyes searching mine.
"I.-d-didn't know, no," I stuttered.
"Like your blond friend didn't told you, " he teased. I grinned in response.
"What do you mean by that?."
"I know what people say about us, they talk all the time"
But he ignored my question and asked me another. "Do you think that your family would let you be with who you want? No matter who you chose " He raised one eyebrow, and the faint trace of a smile lightened his face.
"yes", Dad, Joy and Joe Love me so I was sure they wouldn't mind. "But they're the parent, after all. It's a little bit different."
"No one too scary then," he teased.
I grinned in response. "What do you mean by scary? Multiple facial piercings and extensive tattoos?"
"That's one definition, I suppose."
"What's your definition?"
But he ignored my question and asked me another. "Do you think that I could be scary?"
I thought for a moment, wondering whether the truth or a lie would go over better. I decided to go with the truth. "Hmmm… I think you could be, if you wanted to."
"Are you frightened of me now?" The smile vanished, and his heavenly face was suddenly serious.
"No." But I answered too quickly. The smile returned.
"So, now are you going to tell me about your family?" I asked to distract him. "It's got to be a much more interesting story than mine."
He was instantly cautious. "What do you want to know?"
"The Hummels adopted you?" I verified.
"Yes."
I hesitated for a moment. "What happened to your parents?"
"They died many years ago." His tone was matter-of-fact.
"I'm sorry," I mumbled.
"I don't really remember them that clearly. Burt and Carole have been my parents for a long time now."
"And you love them." It wasn't a question. It was obvious in the way he spoke of them.
"Yes." He smiled. "I couldn't imagine two better people."
"You're very lucky."
"I know I am."
"Wait, …Burt? really?"
He laughs, he has such a beautiful laughs " Yea, Burt and Kurt, I know"
"And your brother and sister?"
He glanced at the clock on the dashboard.
"My brother and sister, and Sam and Brittany for that matter, are going to be quite upset if they have to stand in the rain waiting for me."
"Oh, sorry, I guess you have to go." I didn't want to get out of the car.
"And you probably want your truck back before Chief Anderson gets home, so you don't have to tell him about the Biology incident." He grinned at me.
"I'm sure he's already heard. There are no secrets in Ohio." I sighed.
He laughed, and there was an edge to his laughter.
"Have fun at the beach… good weather for sunbathing." He glanced out at the sheeting rain.
"Won't I see you tomorrow?"
"No. Puck and I are starting the weekend early."
"What are you going to do?" A friend could ask that, right? I hoped the disappointment wasn't too apparent in my voice.
"We're going to be hiking in the Rocks Wilderness, just south of Rainier."
I remembered Joe had said the Hummel's went camping frequently.
"Oh, well, have fun." I tried to sound enthusiastic. I don't think I fooled him, though. A smile was playing around the edges of his lips.
"Will you do something for me this weekend?" He turned to look me straight in the face, utilizing the full power of his beautiful green-gray-blue eyes.
I nodded helplessly.
"Don't be offended, but you seem to be one of those people who just attract accidents like a magnet. So… try not to fall into the ocean or get run over or anything, all right?"
He smiled crookedly.
The helplessness had faded as he spoke. I glared at him.
"I'll see what I can do," I snapped as I jumped out into the rain. I slammed the door behind me with excessive force.
I was still smiling as he drove away.
Omg, such a looong chapter, hope you like what you read =D, Im stll dealing with the Jacob thing .
So I was wondering, my amazing readers, Sebastian the werewolf, ooor Jeremiah?
Btw, I have so many story alert, but so few reviews, I would love to see your critics and your opinions on the fic!
See ya soon