Title: The Last Night To Be Brave
Author: an-alternate-world
Rating: M
Characters/Pairings: Kurt/Blaine relationship, Blaine/Santana friendship, Santana/Dave friendship
Word count: 2,522
Summary: He thinks she needs a friend. She thinks he needs to mind his own business. What she doesn't know then is she's going to need him this year more than she ever could have imagined.
Warnings/Spoilers: Angst. There is talk of suicidal ideation and an attempt in this chapters. It's not particularly graphic, but it is there. If you think this might trigger you, PLEASE don't read it!
Disclaimer: I am in no way associated with Glee, FOX, Ryan Murphy or anything else related to the Glee universe.
They had creamed the competition at Sectionals and Thanksgiving had passed with a few tears. Santana had abruptly realised a week before the day that she had no where else to go when Blaine told her he was going to Kurt's, so Kurt had invited her too. She had felt rather awkward and Finn had been confused but Blaine had said Santana's parents were away on a month-long business trip and Finn had nodded and gone back to eating his pumpkin pie. Santana had shot him a grateful look which he'd brushed off.
It was now a couple of weeks before Christmas and he had noticed her withdrawing even more. She looked tireder, she was eating less, she spent more time in her bedroom with the door closed, and she never contributed in Glee anymore. Schue had stopped asking her on her opinion and just frowned at her in consternation.
Blaine, on the other hand, was at his wit's end. She was refusing to speak to him and he could hardly force her. He thought that the song had worked but he was frightened by her closed-off nature. At the very least, she abided by the rules of not locking her doors. But that was about it. He wondered if she was even completing her homework because she never sat with him after school to complete it anymore. He was staring to feel panicked by her inactivity.
He arrived home with Kurt after a rather fantastic date, if he did say so himself. Burt had agreed that Kurt could stay the night with Blaine after a very firm talking to which left Kurt so mortified he wouldn't speak for five minutes after they left the house. Admittedly, it had seemed easier to talk him round after he had met Santana and Blaine had quietly mentioned that she was staying with him while her parents were away because there wouldn't be much the boys could get up to if someone else was around. They stumbled in through the door, stamping their feet and pulling off thick winter coats. Blaine could hear the shower going so he settled down on the couch with Kurt, flicking on the TV and not paying much attention as Kurt hovered above him, kissing and touching gently.
"Kurt, Santana's in the shower," he murmured, shuddering as Kurt's icy cold hands slipped under his sweater.
"So?" Kurt said, kissing at the junction of Blaine's jaw and neck beneath his ear, a place he'd learned recently turned Blaine into a quivering puddle of goo.
"So we should at least move this to the bedroom and not in public view of her," he breathed, wrapping his arms around Kurt and pulling him in close for a desperate kiss. When they broke apart, gasping for air, Blaine grabbed Kurt's hand and tugged him into his bedroom, shutting the door and pushing Kurt backwards onto the bed. Kurt sank down and shimmied up the bed as Blaine crawled over him, running his hands over Kurt's legs and belly before leaning in to press his lips back to Kurt. He was pretty sure he could kiss Kurt for like, ever, but Kurt had other ideas as he dragged Blaine's green sweater over his head, leaving him in a plain white t-shirt. Kurt slid his short nails down Blaine's chest, grazing a nipple which made Blaine whimper as Kurt's cool hands trailed across his body. It was a strange sensation, feeling like trails of heat were being left behind by hands that were so cold, and yet it was leaving him panting and desperate for more.
He scrambled at the buttons on Kurt's shirt, cursing Kurt's desire for beautiful but complicated clothing as he pushed the sleeves away from Kurt and took in the expanse of pale skin beneath him. He sucked in a breath, touching Kurt's sternum properly.
"Fuck, you're utterly gorgeous," he whispered.
He could see the blush take over Kurt's entire body and he smirked up at his flushed boyfriend. "So are you," Kurt replied, pulling at Blaine's tee and leaving the pair shirtless. It was probably the furthest they had gone in a while, always conscious of Santana or Burt or Finn but right now, it wasn't much of a concern.
Kurt manoeuvred Blaine to lay beside him and quietly, reverently, they stroked whatever skin was available. Kurt learned that a certain place along Blaine's side would make him twitch and his stomach clench as he gasped, and Blaine discovered that placing his warm hands over Kurt's shoulder blades left him biting his lip with anticipation because Kurt felt so protected. Blaine enjoyed Kurt touching his nipples softly while Kurt preferred Blaine palming his stomach and resting his hands low on Kurt's hips.
Kurt climbed on top of Blaine and brushed his erection into Blaine's thigh, feeling Blaine's press into his. Blaine's breath stuttered as he paused in rubbing circles into Kurt's hips with his thumbs, clenching his hands instead. Kurt dropped his head, pressing soft, warm kisses to Blaine's neck and across his collarbone, licking around Blaine's right nipple as he groaned, jerking his hips into Kurt's thigh.
"Jesus, Kurt," he said as Kurt licked his way back up to Blaine's jaw.
"I've never been compared to a deity before," he smirked, kissing the edges of Blaine's lips softly.
"You should. Although what you do with that mouth is surely sinful," Blaine replied, sliding a hand over Kurt's lower back.
"What you, ah, do with those hands isn't much better," Kurt said shakily as Blaine felt his way up Kurt's spine.
Blaine was about to respond when he realised the pipes were still crackling, indicating the shower was still on. "Kurt, how long have we been home?"
Kurt shrugged. "Maybe a half hour? I don't know. It's hard to keep track."
"Santana has been in the shower more than half an hour?" Blaine said, sitting up. "She's never in there more than fifteen minutes, even when she washes her hair."
"So?" Kurt said, not understanding.
"I don't know. It's just not normal," Blaine grabbed his t-shirt. "I'm just going to check on her. I'll be right back."
He kissed Kurt quickly and darted out the door. He knocked on the bathroom door and got no response. His heart started thumping faster. This wasn't right…
"Santana?" he called. "Look, I know you're in there. Is everything alright?"
Silence.
"Santana?" he repeated, banging on the door louder. "Santana, open up!"
Still silence.
"Shit, shit, shit, shit, shit," he swore, racing into the kitchen for something he could snap the lock open with.
"She's not responding?" Kurt said from the kitchen doorway, eyes wide and pulling his shirt back on.
"No," Blaine replied, darting back with a knife and trying to jimmy the lock unsuccessfully.
"Stand aside," Kurt said and Blaine moved, eyebrow raised. Kurt kicked at the door and the flimsy lock gave way.
"Fuck! Kurt, call an ambulance!" Blaine screamed, falling to his knees to scoop up Santana as he grabbed a towel off the rack to press against her wrists.
He could hear Kurt talking fast in the background and Blaine could barely see Santana's chest rise and fall and there was so much, so much, so much blood.
"Don't do this, Santana. You told me you wouldn't…I thought we had a deal…fuck, why did you do this?" he babbled, trying not to start crying and pressing the towel firmer. "I'll fucking kill you myself."
"That would defeat the purpose," Kurt said quietly, shutting off the water in the shower.
"Such a fucking idiot," Blaine whispered and Kurt wasn't sure who Blaine was referring to.
"Raise her arms. It'll slow the blood," Kurt interrupted, and Blaine obediently raised Santana's arms. The towels were already starting to get extremely bloody and Blaine knew that she was losing too much He didn't think wrists were meant to bleed this much. He vaguely remembered a Wes telling him once that slitting one's wrists wasn't a very successful method of attempting suicide because it was so much slower and family or friends usually found the person. But the tiny movement of Santana's chest and all the blood around him was scaring the shit out of him and he clutched her arms, sobbing and praying that it wasn't too late.
Blaine, with all his smiles and charm, managed to convince the nurses that he was Santana's step-brother and she was living with him and therefore refused to leave her side all night. One of the nurses had set up a cot in the corner for him but he had remained next to Santana's bed, holding her hand and eventually fell asleep on the edge of the bed. Unfortunately, Kurt had had to leave soon after the doctor told Blaine that Santana would be fine and with a soft kiss to Blaine's cheek, had said he would cover Blaine at school as long as was necessary.
Blaine was roused by the movements of a nurse who had bustled into the room and made a little too much noise to his sleep-deprived ears.
"The sedatives should be wearing off soon enough," the nurse said kindly and Blaine tried to smile but honestly, he was terrified of what Santana might say or do when she woke. The nurse ducked her head and disappeared again and Blaine held Santana's small hand and waited.
He waited about a half hour before Santana groaned softly and her eyes fluttered open, creasing with confusion before her gaze fell on Blaine.
"Fuck," she breathed, eyes wide.
"About right. What the fuck were you thinking?" He saw her wince and realised it was probably a harsh question but he had been so scared and there had been so much blood…
"I'm so sorry."
"Not good enough," he snapped, and she flinched, removing her hand from his and looking away at the window. "What the hell were you thinking? Tell me, San or I'll…I don't even know. I'm so angry with you right now."
"I just…" her voice cracked and he saw her chest shudder with a sob. "I didn't…it hurt. I didn't…want to hurt anymore."
"What's 'it'?"
"Everything!" she gestured wildly. "Everything, Blaine! I got kicked out of home and I've got absolutely no friends and everything fucking sucks and I just couldn't do it anymore. I wanted the pain to go away!"
He looked down at his hands, ashamed, helpless, frustrated, lost. "You have me, and Kurt. And Kurt's family."
"It's not enough!" she said as she dissolved into tears. "I want my family back. I miss my daddy. I just want to be normal again. I just want Britt to be my best friend. I want to sleep in my own bed. I just…" she broke off, covering her mouth with her hands as she sobbed.
Blaine climbed into the bed, gently pulling her against his chest as she clutched at his shirt, crying weakly. He cradled the nape of her neck and held her close, trying to protect her. From what, he wasn't sure. Herself, her family, Brittany, the world…
"What made you…try?" Blaine questioned.
"I…I called home," she mumbled, bunching Blaine's shirt in her hands.
"You what?"
"You heard me," she tried to take a deep breath in through her congested nose and released a shaky breath. "I just…I don't even know. I wanted to talk to someone. It's nearly Christmas and I miss home. And my father answered and he…was awful and I…I…" she stumbled over her words.
"Why did he take it all so horribly?" he pressed softly. She trembled in his arms and he held her tighter.
"He's a total fucking homophobe," she frowned. "Apparently I had an uncle who was gay and the family tossed him out and cut him off."
"What happened to him?" Blaine asked as he ran his fingers through her hair.
"He killed himself," Santana muttered, and Blaine inhaled sharply.
"You never thought to tell me this before?"
"I knew you'd freak out even more than you already were," she whispered, wiping her eyes. "And when I called and he started talking…I didn't know what to do. I knew you were out with Kurt and I wanted you, not Dave, but you were out and I just needed the pain to stop…"
"San," he said softly, grasping her chin and tilting her face up and tenderly wiping away her tears. "I don't care if I'm with Kurt, his family, my family, in fucking London. You call me any time, any time," he repeated firmly, "you feel like that again, okay?" He paused and kissed her forehead gently. "I mean, obviously I'm hoping it won't happen again but if it does, I never want to get a call that you've hurt yourself, much less have Kurt break down a door and…and see that again…"
"Oh God, Kurt saw it too?" she whimpered, fresh tears trailing over her cheeks.
"He called the ambulance and told me what to do," Blaine admitted, cuddling the girl tighter. "He's covering for us at school. No idea with what but don't worry about it right now."
"What if he tells-"
"He won't," Blaine said. He knew Kurt. He knew Kurt would come up with a story and they'd accept it. "We've kept our promise about you moving homes and everything. He won't tell, San."
Santana nodded and trembled in his arms. They sat in silence for a while, Blaine comforted by her warmth and life and her by being in someone's arms and just being held and safe.
"Good morning, Miss Lopez. How are you feeling?" a doctor bustled in, barely batting an eyelash at the closeness of the supposed siblings and glancing at her chart.
"Um…okay I guess," she mumbled.
The doctor hummed, scribbling something on the paper in front of him. "We're going to need to get you a psych eval, and I'm sure I don't have to explain why. Until then, you're going to have to stay put with your brother."
Santana glanced between the doctor and Blaine with an eyebrow raised but Blaine shook his head. She sighed. "Fine."
"Wonderful. I'll go chase up someone from the psych ward," he said and exited the room.
"Brother?" Santana squawked once the doctor had left the room.
Blaine shrugged. "Needed to come up with some excuse why I couldn't leave you. It seemed like the only plausible one."
Santana shook her head and pressed her face back to Blaine's chest, soothed by his rhythmic heartbeat. "Thank you. For staying."
"Always," he replied. "Just remember to call me next time, or I'll smack you six ways from Sunday."
