Author's Note: Wow, so it has been awhile. Not sure if anyone is still following this story at all. Sorry for such a long delay, I lost my muse for a while but I'm trying to find my way back. Thanks to everyone who has continued to support this story and ask for updates, this is for you guys. Here's to the future and actually working towards finishing this thing.
"What is there to say," Blaine asked after a few moments of continued silence.
"I'm sure there are plenty of things to say about them, Blaine," Kurt replied quietly. "It seems like there's just still so much that you're holding back– so much that you won't let me see."
Blaine curled the fingers of his right hand inwards, pressing the nails tightly into his palm as though the he could squeeze away all of the anger and pain. His gaze remained downwards, looking at Kurt felt too unbearable. Where could he even begin to explain? His parents were practically strangers, even to him, ghosts of another life long since passed. How could he possibly gather up all of the little scraps of complexities that composed this sick mosaic that had become his life and present them to someone like Kurt– Kurt, with his loving family the immovable pillar of support.
"Talk to me," Kurt whispered, cutting through the buzzing in Blaine's head. "I know things are complicated with us, but you're still my friend and I still care about you. Just talk to me, Blaine. You can't keep all of this in anymore, you need to let it out."
"Let it out," Blaine parroted as Kurt's slender fingers brushed over his clenched fist. "But what good will it do?"
"You won't have to deal with it alone anymore," Kurt insisted, gently trying to pry Blaine's hand open.
"For now," Blaine replied flatly. "But then you'll leave and I will be alone again."
"I'm not leaving–"
"You can't make that promise," Blaine snapped, pulling his hand away from Kurt and raising his head to look at him. "I can't expect you to…" His eyes softened, shoulders slumping in defeat. "I can't expect you to."
Kurt stared back, blinking his surprise at Blaine's sudden outburst, before the faintest smile tugged at his lips. "Stop," he shook his head, his smile turning into a grin. Blaine expected any reaction other than the one he was receiving: anger, annoyance, frustration, but instead Kurt was on the verge of laughter.
"Stop trying to push me away," Kurt's smile was more in amusement, partly due to exhaustion. "We aren't dating anymore, and it sucks. I know it sucks. But I deserve some credibility for even being here, don't I?"
"Of course you do–"
"Then act like it please, Blaine," Kurt continued, politely. He wouldn't lose his temper, knew that Blaine could not control his outbursts and that his depression would likely be worse than ever now, but nobody would be able to say Kurt did not at least try to understand and be patient.
"Okay," Blaine nodded slowly. "Okay, I'm sorry, where should I start?"
"Anywhere you want to," Kurt slid his hand back onto Blaine's. "I don't know anything about them."
Blaine looked down at their hands, momentarily distracted, before raising his eyes to Kurt's sympathetic, expectant gaze.
"Cooper told me your parents weren't always the way they are," Kurt began when Blaine still hesitated. "Can you remember–"
"They weren't," Blaine interrupted hoarsely, his throat suddenly having turned into the Sahara. "I don't remember when exactly things had changed, but it just felt like… That they didn't love me anymore, you know?" He cleared his throat quietly, knowing full well that, of course, Kurt didn't know at all.
"We used to go on family trips all the time, little weekend outings to Lake Erie; camping," Blaine smiled fondly, "My dad, he would take Coop and me on day trips to Columbus to watch the Blue Jackets play all the time. I remember," he let out a laugh, "He came home with all of this equipment one day and we spent hours outside trying to hit this stupid little orange ball past him, into the net. He cheered so loud every time I did," A sudden sadness overtook his words, his eyes becoming glassy and distant. "Every time."
"When do you remember things changing?" Kurt prompted, keeping his full attention on Blaine's face.
"It wasn't all that sudden, nothing I can remember that specifically changed everything. It was pretty gradual," Blaine wrinkled his nose and squinted his eyes, tilting his head towards the ceiling, as though the action might help him remember some small detail he might have missed. Kurt's heart twinged as he watched.
"Cooper mentioned something to me a few days ago," he said, guiltily.
"Oh?" Blaine stopped staring into space and focused on him. "About what?"
"About when your parents," he paused, taking mind of his phrasing, "Changed..."
"What did he say?"
"When they started to piece together that you were– um, that you're–"
"Gay," Blaine finished, shoulders slumping. "Yeah, I guess I always figured that was partly it, but I didn't think– I had always hoped it was something more, like, maybe I had done something, but it was just my existence that they couldn't stand."
Blaine had said the statement so nonchalantly, so expectant, that Kurt could hardly hold his tears at bay. "Oh, Blaine," he squeezed the smaller boy's hand tightly, trying to surge some of his own life into Blaine's veins. "I'm so sorry. They shouldn't have– I mean, you're their son. I can't believe that they would just... cast you aside like that."
"It's not exactly anything new though," Blaine shrugged. "I always knew my dad was trying to change me, though he never came right out and said it. He was always trying to change me, subtly suggesting we do 'manly things' like rebuild a car or play football with his friends and their sons. Which, whatever, I didn't mind because I was spending time with him, we were still… holding on, you know? Trying to, anyways. It just always felt like there was something... more to it than that, you know? That doesn't really make any sense, I suppose."
"Why do you think there was something else? What made you feel that way?"
"I don't know," Blaine sighed. "I can't– I don't really have the words for what I'm trying to say. It just... felt that way."
"Okay," Kurt took a mental note to revist the subject at a later point in time. "Still on the subject of your parents," he hesitated, studying Blaine's features and noticing how tense he had suddenly become. "I know you don't remember much about this time, but can you tell me about the last time you were attacked?"
"Kurt," Blaine whispered, painfully, as Kurt released his hand.
"Please," Kurt pleaded, sitting up and crossing his legs underneath himself. "You need to talk about it, Blaine. You've kept it bottled up for so long."
Blaine remained laying down, staring up at him with somber eyes. "And what use is it dredging it up now? I've moved past it– "
"Have you?" Kurt interjected, "Because I don't think you have, Blaine. I think it was still haunting you and now, after this, it'll continue to even more. You're such strong person, I know that, but you don't have to pretend with me. It won't make you look weak or fragile to let it out, to cry, it won't change my opinion about you at all."
"But what if it does?" Blaine whispered, more to himself, and Kurt elected to ignore the question, chalking it up to Blaine's inability to keep his thoughts private lately. Evidently, he had assumed wrong; Blaine turned his head away and repeated himself, "What if it does, Kurt?"
"All I can do is tell you the same thing I've been telling you, I don't know how to prove it to you, Blaine. It's up to you to decide, I can't make you trust me."
Blaine bit his lower lip, lost within himself for a moment, before turning his gaze up to Kurt again. "It was three people then too– when Skylar and I were attacked. His dad was supposed to pick us up, but he never showed up; they were waiting for us when we left the gym."
"Did you know them?" Kurt pressed on when Blaine paused.
"One of them, yes. We had a confrontation earlier in the night, I don't remember over what... All I remember is that he got in my face and thought I was coming onto him, I didn't personally know him or anything," Blaine motioned to sit up, grimacing as he tried, and accepted Kurt's help to prop himself up against the pillows. "Thanks."
Kurt nodded and waited for him to continue. He watched as Blaine gathered up a corner of the bedsheet and began to wrap it around his hand, fidgeting in hesitation. As Kurt was about to break the silence and urge him on he began speaking again.
"It was such a beautiful night before that, you know?" Blaine's somber voice cut through the silence like a knife, his eyes fixed onto the wall.
"Were you guys... Um," Kurt stumbled over his assumption and Blaine didn't seem to follow. "Dating?"
"Oh, no– No, we weren't," Blaine shook his head slowly. "He was just– we were all that we had back then. Both of us had been bullied pretty badly, we were just very good friends."
"I don't mean to be blunt when I ask this, but... then why go to the dance together?"
"I dunno," Blaine sighed, the smallest trace of frustration trailing along behind his words. "I don't know what I was thinking when I asked him. I just– We deserved it too, we were allowed to go and enjoy ourselves too, weren't we? I got ahead of myself, I just wanted... something good for us to take from that shitty school. I was so naive... I just never– I never..." He blinked back tears and swallowed hard, attempting to keep the sobs threatening to possess his body at bay, and tried to redirect his focus back onto the actual events of the attack.
"The kid that had started the fight with me during the dance– Logan, I think was his name– had been following us once we'd gotten outside. We were waiting for Skylar's dad to pick us up, I don't know why he never came, and then suddenly... there he was. I told Skylar to run, but he refused, he– he wouldn't leave me," Blaine inhaled deeply, a tear escaped and streamed down his cheek. "Then his friends showed up, one of them had a tire iron in his hand, and I tried to reason with Logan– with them– but no one would listen, none of them cared what I had to say. They– they hit me first and all I could hear was Skylar screaming. I couldn't move, I couldn't help him, I couldn't– I couldn't do anything. Everything was just bloody and broken and blowing up in our faces and I couldn't do a damn thing! I couldn't save him, I couldn't save him," he buried his face into his shaking palms, as his chest began to fall and rise rapidly with his staccato breathing.
"I never imagined what would happen– that they would– that they'd try to kill us," he couldn't keep his composure any longer; Kurt carefully snaked an arm around his shoulders as he let out a small gasping sob and practically wailed the rest of his thoughts. "That they'd actually kill him!"
"Oh, Blaine," Kurt's voice cracked as he gently pulled the other boy closer to him. "Blaine, I'm so sorry– I'm so sorry," He whispered apologies that didn't belong to him as Blaine buried his face into his chest and let out muffled sob. "It wasn't your fault; you can't blame yourself for that– you can't– you were just–"
The speed with which Blaine had snapped his head up made it seem like he was recoiling from a flame, "He's dead because of me! He's dead because I–I was too proud, too stupid, too–"
"Blaine, you know that that's not fair," Kurt whispered in response to Blaine's outburst. "To you or to him– you couldn't have known that they would... do something like that."
"I should have," Blaine shot back, words soaked with bitter regret as his shoulders slumped and he allowed himself to sink back into Kurt's embrace. "I should have known... something would happen– I thought too highly of everyone back then."
"Sometimes I think you still do," Kurt's hand skittered over Blaine's back in a barely-there manner, too afraid to apply any real pressure to the hidden bruises and cuts.
"Everything was almost perfect up until then," Blaine muttered quietly. "We accidentally picked out matching white boutonnieres for each other— I couldn't stop laughing about it the entire night—and then the last thing I remember seeing before waking up in the hospital was his, covered in blood... They just kept beating us, Kurt..."
Despite his best efforts, no words managed to escape— neither of comfort nor in disbelief; Kurt sat speechless with an indescribable aching in his chest.
"Sometimes I don't know what was worse, that or how my parents reacted afterwards," Blaine said bitterly.
"What did they do?" Kurt knew vaguely what had followed from his brief conversation with Cooper a few days prior, but he needed to hear it in Blaine's own words.
"It's what they didn't do, really. It was like the whole thing never happened, and whenever I did bring it up they acted like it was my fault… Said that I 'antagonized the situation,' like I was asking for it to happen, because I brought Skylar as my date. The only one that was on my side was Cooper."
"At least you had that though, right?" Kurt asked nervously, trying to find the silver lining in the abysmal rain cloud of Blaine's memories.
"Yeah," Blaine nodded thoughtfully. "Until he left, but who could blame him?"
"What do you mean?"
"He was starting his career, moved to LA to become a Hollywood bigshot, and I was stuck here, going to a new school where I didn't know anyone and I felt so alone. I don't blame him for it, just missed him a lot, you know? He was the only one that I had who would listen to me, who didn't act like I was crazy through all of the nightmares and panic attacks and flashbacks and—" he stopped and took a deep breath, as though trying to steady himself again.
"And that's when you tried to kill yourself," Kurt whispered, having trouble keeping his own tears at bay now.
"Yeah," Blaine replied in the same tone. "The look on Coop's face when he found me… I was so ashamed; I felt so horrible for doing that to him— we got to be so much closer after that though. I called him a lot more often, he would try to visit home as much as he could— he wouldn't go back for the longest time after it had happened, my parents thought he just gave up and was moving back home, but he wanted to make sure I knew he was there for me. I love him so much for that, for reminding me that it wasn't always as dark as I made everything out to be back then. He's the one that encouraged me to audition for The Warblers too."
"I never knew that," Kurt smiled sadly, still trying to wade through the emotional terrain. "It's a lucky thing that he did, I always knew I liked him for a reason."
"Yeah," Blaine said fondly.
"Something crossed my mind, and I'm sorry to bring it up again," Kurt bit his lip in anticipation, wondering if it was appropriate to revisit the topic at all. Blaine raised an inquisitive eyebrow.
"What happened to the boys that attacked you?" Kurt asked hesitantly. "They caught them, right?"
"There was a trial, I don't remember a lot of it..." Blaine rubbed his puffy eyes with the corner of the bedsheet. "I don't... remember what happened to them." He frowned suddenly and Kurt could see the panic in his eyes. "How can I not remember?!"
"Blaine," Kurt whispered and rubbed his shoulder. "It's okay, you suffered a head injury– they told us you might have some memory issues."
"But how can I not remember something as important as that?" He was inching towards the edge of hysteria.
"It's okay, I'm sure it'll come back to you," Kurt spoke calmly and softly, trying to bring him back into control of himself. "Let's talk about something else, we can change the subject. Why don't we read some Harry Potter?"
"I don't want to read Harry Potter," Blaine all but choked out, dragging his knuckles over his eyes again.
"What shall we do then? Do you want to move to the piano in the living room? It's been forever since we've sang something together," Kurt was starting to panic himself now, but he wouldn't let it show.
"What else don't I remember?" Blaine asked himself quietly as he lowered his hands, ignoring Kurt's question. "Kurt, ask me some things? Please?"
"Blaine, let's save it for tomorrow–" Kurt pleaded, worried about how Blaine would react if he was asked a question he couldn't give an answer to.
"Please," Blaine sounded so desperate, Kurt could feel his heart cleaving in two. "Please, I need to– I need to see what I remember."
"I don't know what to ask..."
"Anything! Please, Kurt–anything!"
"I," Kurt kept his arm around Blaine and looked to the wall for answers. "Where did we first meet?"
"At school," Blaine answered fervently.
"Which school?"
"Dalton. You came to Dalton, we met..." Panic still lingered in his eyes and then ebbed away slowly. "On the stairs– we met on the stairs, and then I took you down the hall to rehearsal with me."
"Good," Kurt whispered encouragingly. "What did you sing?"
"Teenage Dream," he stated with such confidence. "I could never forget that. I could never forget that…"
Is he saying the last part to me or to himself?
"Right. Okay, um," Kurt studied the ceiling for the next question, as though it would offer much more assistance than the blank wall did. "Um... What's your brother's name?"
"Cooper," Blaine gradually began to let himself relax.
"Feeling better now?"
"Keep going, keep going." Blaine pleaded softly.
"Okay," Kurt agreed, continuing to draw a blank on what else to ask him. "Where do I go to school?"
"McKinley," Blaine waited for confirmation.
"I did, but where do I go now?" Kurt prompted him.
"I... It's not McKinley?" He slumped his shoulders and frowned in concentration.
"I graduated," Kurt turned his attention back onto Blaine, who had decided to study the mattress for answers in a similar manner to Kurt with his questions. "Let's move onto something–"
"NYADA! It's NYADA!" He suddenly cried out, lifting his head, desperation etched all over his face. "Right? Is it–"
"Yes," Kurt smiled. "See? I'm sure everything else will come back to you in no time. Why don't we go sit with everyone in the living room? I've been practicing piano at school; I've been dying to show you."
"Okay," Blaine nodded, feeling more encouraged. "Okay, yeah, that sounds wonderful."
A gentle knock at the door caught their attention before they had any chance to move. "Can I come in?" Even muffled through the door, Cooper sounded exhausted.
"Yes, it's open," Kurt replied, uncrossing his tingling legs and dangling them over the edge of the bed.
Cooper pushed the door open slowly, as though cautious of what he might find inside, and appeared in the doorframe with bags under his eyes and what looked like a baseball helmet in his left hand.
"Little late for the batting cages, isn't it?" Blaine's suspicious eyes travelled from the helmet to Cooper's face.
"It's not for me," Cooper half-smiled.
"Oh hell no—"
"Blaine," Both Cooper and Kurt replied sternly, eliciting a quiet whine from the subject of their attention.
"Cooper, it's hideous!"
"It's also going to protect your head until it's fully healed, so no arguments. You don't need to wear it all of the time, only if you're out of bed, okay? Since you had the seizure it's just… some extra protection," Cooper walked up to the bed and held out the helmet to Blaine. He grumbled quietly and reluctantly took it from his brother's hand. "Atta boy."
"Any other gifts that I'm also not allowed to protest to?" Blaine asked grumpily, setting the black helmet onto his lap rather than his head.
"Yes, actually," Cooper replied, rolling his eyes in response to Blaine's snark. "Just some medication: 800 milligram Motrin to help with your knee and the other is called Top… something—Topamax? It's to help with the seizures and the headaches."
"Are they going to make me sleepy?"
"The anticonvulsant might, did you want to take that one in a little bit right before you go to bed?"
"Yeah, thanks, Coop."
"Sure," He rubbed the back of his neck, eyeing the helmet still on Blaine's lap. "I'll go get you the Motrin, okay?"
"We're going to go sit in the living room for a little while actually," Blaine replied. "Kurt was going to play piano for me."
"Oh," Cooper smiled brightly at Kurt. "Okay, I'll have it waiting for you there then."
He turned to leave and then stopped, facing Blaine again. "I mean it though, you need to wear that helmet, Blainey, okay? Please? Just try it on for now, so you can get used to it."
"Okay, okay," Blaine whined back and cautiously slipped it onto his head. "Happy now?"
"Yep!" He exclaimed as he disappeared, leaving them alone again.
"Be honest," Blaine mumbled after Cooper had left, "How stupid does it look?"
"Doesn't look stupid at all," Kurt replied reassuringly. "You can make anything look good."
"Oh stop it," Blaine rolled his eyes.
"I'm serious!" Kurt fiddled with one of the chin straps of the helmet. "I'm almost jealous!"
"Har, har," Blaine replied sarcastically before letting out an actual laugh. Kurt smiled and stood up, rubbing out the numbness in his legs that had begun to set in after sitting on them for so long.
"Alright, you ready?"
"As I'll ever be, I guess," Blaine replied, distractedly, while trying to secure the chin strap; his fingers clumsy, movements unrefined.
"Would you like some help?" Kurt offered.
"No," Blaine replied hastily before adding a very defeated, "…yes."
Kurt's slender fingers reached up and gently secured the clasp beneath Blaine's chin. He paused briefly as his fingertips grazed Blaine's face, and swallowed a lump that had suddenly appeared in his throat once their skin had made contact.
"Alright, let's go," Blaine said eagerly, swinging his legs over the edge of the bed. In his haste he had forgotten about his injured knee, jerking it just a little too quickly, and let out a painful, "Ahhhhhhh fuckfuckfuck–"
"Are you okay?" Kurt sprang forward, uncertain of what to do or where to touch him. "What happened?"
"I'm fine, I'm okay," Blain grimaced through gritted teeth. "I moved too fast."
"Want me to just go get that Motrin from Cooper first?" Kurt asked apprehensively, concern painted all over his pale face. Blaine hesitated before nodding slowly. "I'll be right back." He sprinted away after Cooper before Blaine's head had barely had a chance to fall downwards in affirmation.
Blaine shifted his weight on the bed, trying to hide his soft cries of pain despite being alone in the room now. He'd had a lot of time to himself in the hospital, having slipped in and out of consciousness in between visits from Kurt and everyone else, but still couldn't seem to get used to the idea of being alone with nothing else but his thoughts anymore. The first time had been hard enough– having more than enough time to engrave the blame of Skylar's death into his own conscience– but this wasn't any easier, though he had been the only victim now. The same question still plagued him, sneaking into his damaged brain like a malicious demon to endlessly torment him in the silence: Why me? What did I ever do to any of them?
He closed his eyes to blood instead of darkness, another old trick of the mind come to send his mental state into complete disarray. It felt like eons before Kurt had finally returned to the room; the sound of the pills tumbling around the small bottle filled the room like thunder in Blaine's ears.
"Blaine?" Kurt asked quietly. "Blaine, are you alright?"
He opened his eyes lazily and Kurt's blurry outline slowly came into focus. "Yes."
"Are you sure? You seem a little... off."
"I'm just thinking," He spoke as though it was suddenly a chore to do so.
Kurt nodded, unsure of what else to really say, and held out the bottle of Motrin and a glass of water for him. "Here. How's your knee?"
"It hurts," Blaine shrugged and took the bottle first. He quickly twisted off the top and shook it gently against his palm, allowing a few pills to tumble out.
"You just need to take one," Kurt piped up suddenly. "I think," He added, trying to make himself come off a little less condescending, but Blaine hadn't missed the first reaction.
"Yeah, I can read too," He shot back and then froze, terror etched onto his face. "I'm sorry– that was– I didn't mean to–"
"I know, Blaine," Kurt replied quietly and cleared his throat. "Go on and take that so we can go into the living room."
Blaine mumbled to himself under his breath as he slid all but one pill off of his palm back into the bottle– Kurt pretended he could not hear him. He set the bottle down on the nightstand, took the glass of water from Kurt's still extended left hand and swallowed down a mouthful of water before placing the glass next to the pill bottle. "Okay, let's go."
Kurt sat down beside him and carefully wrapped an arm around Blaine's slender waist– Has he always been this small? – before guiding one of Blaine's arms over his shoulders. "Is this okay?" Blaine nodded and Kurt slowly brought them up. Maybe it had been the weight of their conversation, but suddenly Blaine felt much lighter than he had before they started; Kurt was certain, if he would even allow it, that he could gather the boy up in his arms and simply carry him around the house. But Blaine was already embarrassed enough, so Kurt kept the thought to himself. Very slowly, they made their way into the living room; Blaine kept most of his weight against Kurt, who all but carried him anyways without ever actually picking him up off of the ground, hopping along on one leg.
Cooper was sitting, alone, in the living room when they arrived; he pretended not to notice the spectacle they presented as Kurt tried to carefully maneuver them both towards the small brown piano propped up against the wall. He kept his eyes buried in the centerfold of a newspaper he'd been pretending to read for the past five minutes, listening intently to Kurt and Blaine's whispered words. An airy giggle invaded the silence, causing him to look up from the paper at the two boys; they had their backs to him, seemingly unaware of his presence– though they had noticed him– as Blaine ran his fingers over the smooth, ivory keys. Cooper wasn't sure which of them had laughed, but the sound had brought a sudden wave of calmness over him that had seemed completely foreign and unattainable these past few days. He kept silent and returned his eyes to the newspaper as Kurt rummaged through a small pile of sheet music he had picked up off of the ground.
"Quite the collection," Blaine tapped the middle C key so gently it barely made a sound. "What are you looking for?"
"Whatever jumps out at me," Kurt laughed and flipped past Glen Hansard and Marketa Irglova's Falling Slowly. "Any suggestions? I might have it in here."
Blaine shrugged his shoulders and continued tapping out a quiet melody. "Are we dueting?" He paused and then smirked, keeping his eyes on the piano. "Or do you want to show off?"
Kurt rolled his eyes in response. "I don't show off."
"That's the problem," Blaine glanced at him, shy smile in place. "You ought to."
He couldn't stop the blood from rushing to his cheeks nor the butterflies from taking flight in his stomach. Even after everything, he still felt giddy whenever Blaine complimented him.
"Oh!" Blaine placed his hand onto the sheet music before Kurt could thumb past it. "This one?" He asked, a touch of nervous edge pervading his words as he slid his hand away from the title so Kurt could read it: The Guilty Ones from Spring Awakening.
"I'm not very good at playing it, but yeah we can give it a try," Kurt set the rest of the sheet music down and spread out the pages onto the indent above the keys. "Might need to follow your lead here."
Blaine straightened up and glanced between the sheet music and the keys a few times, moving his hand over the chords without actually pressing down; Kurt watched as he silently recited words to himself. As the silence stretched on, Cooper's attention had returned to them once again; neither he or Kurt said a word, both had their eyes fixed onto the smaller boy. Kurt wondered if they would be able to hear a pin drop. Just as he was about to speak, Blaine's hands effortlessly started flying across the keys– he didn't miss a beat– Kurt couldn't react fast enough and ended up missing his cue. A quiet chuckle reached Kurt's ears, but Blaine hadn't heard Cooper behind them.
"Can we try that again from the beginning? Sorry," Kurt said, ignoring Cooper.
"Yeah, ready?" Blaine repositioned his hands back to the starting chords. "And one, two, three..."
It was as though his hands had a mind of their own; Kurt fumbled his way along with him, occasionally stopping and starting as he lost his place.
"Maybe I should just sing with you," he eventually laughed out as he missed his cue to sing the first line this time. "I don't think I can do both."
"Don't give up so easily!" Blaine stopped playing. "Here, I'll help you with the intro, we'll go slow. We can worry about singing it later."
"Alright," Kurt agreed.
'This was a good idea,' he thought to himself as Blaine helped place his hands over the proper keys; he pretended not to notice how they lingered, always so warm while his own constantly felt as though they were encased in ice.
'We always balanced each other out like that.'
The thought came quickly and painfully.
'Stop it. Get a grip.'
"Kurt?"
He turned his head as the sound of his name.
"Still with me?" Blaine asked nervously.
"What?" Kurt blurted out, taking the question completely out of context. He hadn't been paying attention at all.
"Are you still following along with me? You seemed like you were zoning out," Blaine held his gaze, his eyes inquisitive and somehow a little lost.
"Yeah," Kurt shook his head apologetically. "Yeah, sorry. Go ahead."
"Well," Cooper interjected suddenly. They had both forgotten his presence, yet again. "I'm going to head to bed.
"Goodnight, Coop," They chimed in together.
"Don't stay up too late," he added with a smirk as he left the room.
The next morning Blaine woke to what sounded like purring in his ear. Knowing full well that there wasn't a cat in the Hummel house, he quickly discerned someone must have been sleeping in bed with him. Not quite ready to open his eyes yet he simply laid there, listening to the quiet breathing of his companion.
'I must have been having nightmares again, I hope I haven't woken the whole house,' he thought to himself as he felt movement beside him.
It took so much effort to pry his eyes open he was surprised he had even had the energy to do so. In fact, he had to do a double take just to make sure he was not still dreaming. The presence of a body beside him was nothing out of the ordinary; Cooper had often crawled into bed to offer an open ear after he had woken from particularly vivid nightmares in the past. But Cooper wasn't the one lying beside him this time– Kurt was.
'Well, I must still be dreaming. There's no way he would be here otherwise.'
For good measure he pinched his own arm to be sure. It stung enough to force him to hold his profanities as close to himself as possible, breathing them out in rushed whispers. Kurt stirred at the sound, crinkling his nose in his sleep, before turning over and hugging a spare pillow. Blaine held his breath the entire time.
'But what is he doing here?' He pondered silently. Kurt pushed the pillow away from himself, sending it tumbling off of the bed where it landed on the floor with a soft thump! before turning over again, and threw an arm over Blaine's waist. 'God, I'd forgotten how cold he always is. His hands are like ice.'
A sudden flash of a duet lost in time danced before his eyes, sending his heart straight into his throat; he tried to swallow away the imaginary lump, fearing he just might choke on his own sadness. Baby, It's Cold Outside – it had been the first song they ever sang together, having such little meaning at the time, but it resonated so loudly now within Blaine's fragile body. He wondered if Kurt still thought about it too.
"This was not the way I imagined having him back beside me,"he bitterly thought aloud. "Fuck, did I say that– "
Kurt stirred again, scrunching up his face in such a way that Blaine wanted nothing more than to lean over and kiss him. But he had to remind himself that he couldn't do that anymore. "How did we get here?" He spoke aloud again.
"Mm, m'right here," Kurt mumbled in a sleepy drawl.
Blaine did his best to stay silent, immediately going rigid at the sound of Kurt's reply.
"Blaine? You say something?" He kept his eyes closed, clearly in that state between being asleep and awake.
'Don't say anything. Don't say anything.'
Kurt began snoring softly again within the next few seconds and Blaine let out a sigh of relief. He wasn't quite ready to face the day yet; wasn't quite ready to fumble through his thoughts and try to keep up a conversation with Kurt (or anyone, for that matter) that made any sense. Right now, all he wanted was to do was enjoy the simple pleasure of lying beside the one boy that meant everything in the world to him. That still made sense. That was the one constant in the crazy whirlwind of destruction that seemed to follow so closely behind. And he would hold onto that for as long as he possibly could.
I've had some ideas for how this story will go over the years and I'm excited to finally be working on this again. Thanks again for your patience and support everyone.
