It's hard to shake the feeling that everything is about to come to a head.
First of all, Finn doesn't normally call him. Well, he does, normally when he's bored and wants someone to blow up pixel zombies with, but he normally doesn't sound that upset, which leads Blaine to believe that something more is wrong than a broken TV or xBox.
Second, Mercedes doesn't usually text him eight times in an hour. Well, she does, but normally it's something like "hey boo how u been lsten kurt wans 2 go 2 tha mall l8er so well tlk to u!" but, since yesterday, he hasn't gotten a single text that didn't utilize perfect spelling, grammar, and punctuation. And most of them had an eerily somber tone. These oddities of the digital variety lead Blaine to believe this is about more than he's been told thus far.
Third, Puck never texts him. Ever. Blaine's about ninety percent sure Puck hadn't had his number. But there it is: "dude check on kurt he's bein all mopey an shit". Blaine peers at it, turns the phone upside down to see if it's just a technical glitch. Nope; Puck really did get a hold of his number somehow, and he really did text Blaine to make sure Kurt was all right.
The kicker comes when he's still reeling from Mercedes's perfectly proper texts and Puck getting his number, and he gets a buzz from Kurt of all people:
From: Kurt 2:16 pm
Just remember, I always loved you and I'll never say goodbye.
Remember kids, cryptic text messages are the perfect way to clear up everything, he thinks rather meanly, before sending off a reply ("I'll always love you. I wish you'd reconsider, but I'll try to understand.") and pocketing the phone with a frown.
Suddenly, everything clicks into place, and he races to his car, tripping over his feet along the way, fumbling with the keys and everything is too fast, too slow, too much too little too soon too late.
Blaine hopes against hope that he's not too late.
An hour and a half later (too long, and that's with breaking a million and one traffic laws on the way) the Hummels' driveway arcs along the hill in front of him, thank God. He can only see Kurt's car, parked in its usual spot right by the side door - odd. The windows out front are dark, with the shades drawn - also odd. He shakes off the cold foreboding that settled in his stomach somewhere around the highway, and he takes the front steps two at a time to knock on the door.
It swings open with a creak, and the house beyond is dark. Silence hangs heavy in the dim hallway while he tentatively creeps toward the living room, feeling only a little like a stalker in the so-far empty house. Living room empty. Kitchen dark. Stairwell - well, he was headed up there anyway, and it's not like he's upset when Kurt comes padding into the living room, looking (to put it lightly) like a hot mess.
"Oh." Just one little word, more of a grunt really, is enough to bring yesterday into the forefront of his mind and somehow the air seems heavier, harder to move through, harder to breathe so they stand face-to-face without actually looking at each other. Kurt's mouth opens, closes, opens again, closes; he takes a deep breath.
"I thought nobody was here," he says, sounding much worse than yesterday (which was bad in and of itself) and Blaine suddenly (irrationally) hopes his nose isn't running, because he doesn't really feel like sniffling. "I didn't expect to see you again. Not today." He turns away, heads back upstairs, and when Blaine tries to follow he sighs.
"Go home, Blaine. I can't bear to talk to you right now."
Which is odd, because weren't you the one who said we had to end but if he remembers correctly then Kurt was just as torn up about that as Blaine was. Which makes even less sense, but Kurt's disappeared into the bathroom and Blaine's feet seem to be rooted to the kitchen tile. An analog clock on the living room wall suddenly sounds much louder in the silence Kurt left behind, and as Blaine looks around the kitchen he feels the cold foreboding coiling in the pit of his stomach like a poisonous snake. He can't bring himself to go upstairs.
Soon the eerie quiet becomes too much, so he begins to pace around the room (just go upstairs what is your problem just go upstairs go upstairs just go just go just go) and every tick of the clock makes his heart thump madly and Kurt is still in the bathroom what if -
There's a clatter, a curse, a gasp of pain that sends him into the full-blown all-the-bells-hollering panic-mode that sends him tearing up the stairs, and makes the next few minutes stretch out before him like time is standing still but he'll remember it later as a blur of frantic actions and reactions -
- shit what's going on in there please tell me oh fuck fuck fuck -
He slams his shoulder into the weathered door, wrenching at the knob but the damn thingwon't budge -
- please be okay oh god all my fault all my fault fuck what if he's dying shit please be okay all my fault all my fault -
- two more shoves and there's a snap as the lock finally gives and the door falls open far too fast -
- oh god he's dead isn't he all my fault, wrong, all wrong, can't breathe can't see, all wrong, happening all wrong not supposed to happen please -
- Kurt lying on the cold tile, slumped against the vanity with one arm still propped straight up, more blood than Blaine has ever seen in his life on the sink, on the floor, pouring -
- can't breathe, can't remember, are these tears they're falling down my face, can't remember anything but Kurt's dying, Kurt's dying -
- bluegreengray eyes fluttering open closed open closed and Blaine moving to gather him into his arms and kiss the storms away from the sea in his eyes -
- please god I'm going to lose him everyone is going to lose him shit he's going to die he's oh fuck please god -
- cradling Kurt's head in the crook of his elbow and reaching to close his hand over the limp pale wrist that empties more blood with every heartbeat than Blaine knew was contained in an entire body but it won't stop won't stop won't stop -
- eyes fluttering open closed open closed not seeing not focusing I'm right here baby look me in the eyes so I know you know and blood, blood everywhere -
- Kurt's right hand, wrist unmarked by self-hatred, clenches on Blaine's jacket as his breaths shorten and his lips part more with every shallow rise and fall of his chest -
- life is too short for regrets without love but he has the wild, irreverent thought that if Quinn were to stumble upon this madness, Kurt cradled tenderly in Blaine's lap as he gently kisses the last vestiges of life goodbye, she might be reminded of the Pieta and he laughs (just a little, and it sounds harsh and foreign) at what he can come up with sometimes -
- and he can't stop whispering I love you, I love you, I love you like a mantra, like a spell to bring back the dead and he closes his eyes to dam them up -
- breathing only becoming shallower, chest rising and falling sharply, quicker, heavier, as though by breathing more the missing gallons of blood are of no importance and he's trying to talk but there's so much blood, not enough time -
"Blaine...I'm sorry."
And just like that, a tiny piece of the solar system (not enough, but enough for now) slides back into place, the corner of reality that was Kurt-and-Blaine, together, orbiting intertwined as if forever, sometimes falling away but always together and never apart. Blaine opens his eyes and looks into Kurt's, brushing away a tear with his thumb.
"Blaine, I'm sorry, I'm sorry," come the whispers that have strength enough to leave Kurt's lips but not much more. Blaine only smiles wanly, because he knows. He's known all along.
"It's alright, Kurt. I love you, I love you."
"Blaine." More urgent now, frightened; he doesn't have the time nor the strength to say everything, but Blaine hears everything unsaid and remembers, so he can tell them all later that Kurt thought of them all at the very end. Kurt's hanging by one fragile thread of regret, and he has to make amends.
"I'm sorry, Blaine, so sorry. I never should have...I thought..."
Blaine understands, of course he does.
"I know. I love you." Kurt smiles at last.
"After all this time?"
"Always."
And Kurt holds his gaze even after that something vanishes from his eyes, and Blaine spins out of orbit, utterly destroyed.
We have finally reached the end! Thank you, to all you folks who submitted reviews, added this story to your favorites, put it on alert, or even just clicked out of curiosity and decided it wasn't your thing. Despite this being my debut to the site, I've had a response far beyond anything I expected. Give yourselves a round of applause.
If anyone is interested in the playlist I listened to on repeat while writing this final chapter, I'll have that available in my profile sometime soon.