Title: Just Listen (9/?)
Author: foreternityblue
Pairing: Blaine/Kurt
Rating: PG-13
Chapter Word Count: 4, 500
Summary:
Blaine Anderson was McKinley High School's social enigma from the moment he stepped through into the hallways his freshman year. Everyone loved and adored him and he was energetic and loud-until an incident in the middle of sophomore year that absolutely no one could figure out. Kurt Hummel was the bullied gay kid who always had a secret interest in the mystery that was Blaine Anderson. When they get partnered for a long project, maybe, just maybe, Kurt will be able to solve the mystery of what happened to Blaine personally in their sophomore year. Klaine AU

Author's Note: This chapter wasn't originally meant to go the way that it does, but it kind of just wrote itself in my head today at school and I kind of liked the idea... not entirely sure why, I won't lie. I think that you guys will like this chapter, though? I'm not entirely sure... well, let's see that you guys think/say, shall we?


When Kurt came to once again, he was a lot more cautious about opening his eyes, since last time it had just been painfulbecause hospital rooms were bright as hell… but this time the lights were off and the curtain in front of the window was closed. Kurt carefully turned his head to the side, wincing a little bit at the throbbing pain that stabbed him, but still looked at the clock on the table determinedly. It was the only think lighting the room directly, and after blinking a few times to clear his vision, he mind slowly registered the boxy, red numbers.

2:57

It was probably early in the morning (late at night?) if he lack of light from behind the curtains was anything to go by.

Kurt slowly turned his head back so that he was staring at the ceiling blankly for a few moments, trying to block out the incessant noise of the machine probably keeping track of his heart rate because… it was annoying. And really didn't help his head ache at all, in any way, shape, or form. It really just made it worse.

His ear twitched just slightly when he heard the door open, and looked over to it, blinking a few times at the light that suddenly flooded the room from out in the hallway, "H'llo?" Kurt asked thickly, kind of surprised at how rough his voice sounded. Then again, he had been out for god knows how long… well, at that point he was just wondering how long he had been passed out/sleeping/comatose/whatever you would call it.

"Kurt?" came a woman's voice, and Kurt was pretty sure that it was Carole. The light switch was flipped, and bright light flooded his vision, causing him to blink heavily five times before there was a presence at the side of his bed. He tried to turn his head again, but found it a little too painful to do so, so instead he glanced out of the corner of his eyes—yeah, it was Carole, and she looked so relieved and like she had been crying

Guilt stabbed Kurt.

"Oh thank goodness," she said softly, her voice wavering, "you're awake and okay—are you in pain at all, sweetie?"

"J-Just a little bit," Kurt replied, only lying to her a little bit (more like a lot), wincing again when he tried to move. Carole's kind and motherly hands were gently holding him still, as if silently telling him to not move, "How long have you been here? How long was I out? Why are you still here?" Normally Kurt didn't ask so many questions, but he was just confused.

Carole moved her arm and patted his hand gently—looking down at his body as best as he could, Kurt could plainly see that one of his wrists was bound. How the fuck did he hurt his wrist?—a soothing expression on her face, "I've been here for about five hours—I went home earlier to freshen up. You've been out for about two days, and I'm here to watch over you, of course."

"Two days," Kurt repeated, a little disbelieving, "I've been out… for two days…" she nodded solemnly, "… Well, that's just… great."

"I know this is a shock for you, Kurt," Carole said softly, sighing a little bit, "it was actually a shock for all of us. When we got word of what happened, your father was so upset and I think Finn and the rest of your friends almost punched Karofsky, if what the principle told us is true. Your friend, Blaine, was devastated as well, even though he didn't say anything—"

Kurt's eyes widened half-way through Carole's probably sleep-deprived explanation, and he felt a light sense of panic start to overwhelm him, "Wait, all of you guys have been worrying about me this entire time?"

His step mom appeared somewhat confused as she tilted her head to the side, staring at him, "Of course we were, dear. You're an important part of all of our lives, why wouldn't we be worried about you?"

Kurt took a deep breath—or he attempted to, at least. His rib cage really hurt, so he couldn't do much—before closing his eyes slowly and turning his head a little bit away from Carole, "Never mind," he whispered softly, before feeling another wave of pain hit him. He bit his lip to keep from making any unnecessary noises, "I-I think I'm going to get some more sleep," he stuttered out, tensing a little bit—which was a horrible idea.

One deep, shuddering breath from his lungs and tired body later, Carole agreed and stood up to turn off the lights. Kurt fell back into a pain-induced sleep almost automatically.


A few days later, and several friend visits later, Kurt was feeling horrible worn out and still in pain. The only time they bothered to give him strong enough painkillers to make everything not hurt was when he was about to go to sleep. Otherwise, they said it was a bad idea because he was tiny or something. Honestly, Kurt actually hadn't listened to most of what the doctor said because it was really, really hard to concentrate. He had figured out what exactly was wrong with him from Carole, though.

Apparently, he broke two ribs (maybe three), a minor linear fracture in his skull, internal and external bleeding in his head, which he was already dimly aware of the external bleeding because of the blood he felt drip down his face shortly before he passed out, a broken wrist because some idiot stepped on it for some reason, and plenty of bruises. Plenty. In all, complete, total honesty, Kurt was surprised that his back wasn't broken or anything.

Regardless, Kurt wasn't allowed to leave the hospital for another week, maybe even more than that. When he was discharged, however, he would be on bed rest (issued more by his family than by the doctor, he was sure) for a while after that. No specific time limit on the bed rest, he would just be trapped in his house for quite a while. Which was just… great. Lovely.

The thing that was bothering him the most, still, was that everyone was so worried about him. Yes, he appreciated their kindness and willingness to help him with just about everything, but it was really bothersome and it was messing with his conscious. Having people care so much about him… it also went against his nature to do things on his own, with minimal help from others. So, yes, he was thankful for their concern, but he wasn't exactly happy about it.

When Mercedes visited him, yes it brightened his dull day a little bit, but it was clear that she had cried at least a little bit which just… kind of bothered Kurt. He didn't say anything about it, of course, but it did bother him.

"How are you feeling?" Mercedes asked a little shakily, sitting next to Kurt and putting her hands on the bed—not anywhere close to him, though. Just on the bed in general.

Kurt sighed, looking over at her with a little less difficulty than he had been having the days prior, his nose only wrinkling a little bit, "Somewhat better," he responded, trying to move his entire body, but absolutely failing. "Still in pain, of course," he rolled his eyes at this, "and utterly bored out of my mind. Hospitals are so monotonous and bland, 'Cedes. I'm loosing my mind slowly." He said it in a melodramatic tone, making it beyond obvious that he wasn't being entirely serious.

Mercedes cracked a small smile and laughed a little bit, even though it seemed a little forced, "Sorry, Boo. I wish I could help you there but I can't really break you out of here. You need to heal, anyways," she patted his arm lightly, as if she were dropping a tiny feather on top of him.

Again Kurt sighed, a small smile still playing on his face, regardless, "How are things at McKinley without me there?" he asked, changing the subject easily, honestly wanting to know what was going on. His best friend was the school's biggest gossip, so she was definitely the one to ask. He would have asked Tina when she visited, but she had been with Mike, so… yeah.

Mercedes blinked a little bit, and when scooted her chair forwards, a telltale grin spreading across her face as she leaned forwards, still keeping in mind that she shouldn't touch Kurt too much. "Complete craziness," she whispered, obviously a little excited. "Finn wants Quinn back, and it's rumored that Miss. Queen Bee cheated on Sam with Finn," Kurt rolled his eyes. Of course. There was that kind of drama. Though... Finn and Quinn? Good grief. Poor Sam. Poor Rachel.

"And the football players who attacked you? Only three of them were suspended," Kurt felt a little pissed off by that comment. Suspended? Thee of them? Excuse him? "Karofsky and Chandler ran away before any of the teachers could see their faces—Azimio, Allen, and Ian were super pissed—and that hallway has no cameras pointed to the surrounding area of our lockers," of fucking course, "So no one could prove that they did anything. Well, actually, Blaine told the principle that they were involved since he saw them, but, again, no one could prove it…"

"Fucking Karofsky," Kurt muttered angrily under his breath, before taking a deep breath (it was actually pretty shallow, but whatever) to try to clam himself down. "So… Blaine tried to get them in trouble?"

His best friend nodded, her expression suddenly a little too serious, "Yes, he did. He also apparently approached Karofsky about the whole ordeal—and he talked. One person who accidentally witness the entire thing in the locker room said that Blaine was pissed as hell, ready to cut a bitch pissed, and almost punched Karofsky but really only shoved him… which I can't imagine since Blaine is so tiny, but anyways. Heated exchanges were made and the guy left the locker room as far as he possibly could since he was so scared. He said that just before the locker room door closed behind him, though, there was a moment of silence and then another shout. I don't know what happened, nobody does I'm pretty sure, but it didn't sound very good, apparently…"

"Is Blaine hurt at all?" was all that spilled out of Kurt's mouth.

Mercedes gave him a weird look, as if scrutinizing him with her gaze, before shaking her head, "Apart from a few bruises, he was pretty much untouched. He also ended up missing a day or two of school after the incident, though, so you never know…"

Kurt glanced away from Mercedes and stared at the wall in front of him, grateful for his elevated bed, even if it did hurt to sit up and even if the doctors said that he probably shouldn't. Blaine didn't miss school, he just didn't. Something had to have happened to make Blaine miss a day, maybe even two, of school… but what? Kurt didn't know. He didn't have a single clue, which really just bothered him greatly.

"Kurt…" he looked over at his best friend, who seemed to be looking at him questioningly again, "I tell you… about a lot of things that have happened, and all you care about is if Blaine is okay?" Kurt blinked, and then looked away again, not sure where Mercedes was going by saying this, "Baby… a few months ago, the first thing that you would have done is go off on homophobes or something… what happened?"

He didn't look at Mercedes. He just stared at the wall for a few more moments, "Nothing happened, 'Cedes. I'm still me. Nothing has changed" That was all he responded with, and Mercedes knew to change the topic.

At least, he didn't think anything changed. He was still Kurt Elizabeth Hummel, he was still gay, he still hated his hometown because of most of the population's morals, and he still wanted to get to Broadway…

Nothing changed. He just gained a new friend.

Nothing changed.


Kurt Hummel was absolutely positively sure that he was dreaming or something, because he was standing in a kitchen, not in any pain what so ever, which was a good tip off to the fact that he was dreaming, if not better then the fact that he was… watching an older version of himself, probably around twenty-five or so, cooking at a stove. Wearing a t-shirt, jeans, and an apron. And singing random show tunes under his breath. Seriously, what the fuck?

A door opened somewhere behind him and some shuffling accompanied the sound of the closing door. Older Kurt seemed to perk up just a little bit at this noise, and younger, apparently present day. Kurt turned around, looking at the rest of the homey kitchen in the process. It was a rather nice place, he couldn't lie about that… but he was really just wondering why the hell he was dreaming about it. It looked so unfamiliar, despite being well decorated and—

He jaw dropped when an older version of Blaine walked into the kitchen, wearing black slacks and a white button up shirt, loosening the tie he was wearing with one hand. His left hand. Which had a gold wedding band on the ring finger.

And, again: what the fuck?

Older Blaine, with his still tamed dark curls, smiled lovingly at the sight of his husband's (?) back, and walked over to the Older Kurt, through the freaked out Kurt, wrapping an arm around his waist, raising up to the tips of his toes (because,damn, older Blaine didn't seem much taller) and running his free hand down Older Kurt's left arm, clasping their hands together and bringing it up, kissing his ring finger—which had a matching gold wedding band on it.

Seriously, the fuck?

"Hey, Blaine," Kurt—Older Kurt—said, turning his head to the side, smiling back at his apparent husband.

Older Blaine pressed a sweet kiss to Kurt's cheek, smiling against the pale skin, "Good evening, Mr. Anderson-Hummel," well that confirmed that. "I missed you today," another soft kiss, against the corner of the taller brunet's mouth now. "How was rehearsal?"

The older version of himself seemed to sigh softly, contentedly, "It was okay. We ran through everything pretty quickly, and since everything seemed up to speed this far along the line, we were let out early."

Older Blaine seemed to chuckle lightly, his one arm tightening around Older Kurt's waist lovingly, "I'm still so proud of you for getting the lead on a Broadway production."

"I know you are."

More light laughter, accompanied by the sound of a knife being set down gently, finally, and then nothing happened for a few moments… until Older Kurt turned around slowly, pulling his left hand from Blaine's, letting Older Blaine wrap both of his arms around his waist and lower to his original height. The Older Kurt wrapped his arms around Blaine's neck slowly, before leaning down, tilting his head to the side. Their lips were about to touch and Kurt swore that his eyes were about to pop out of their sockets—

Until the scene started to dissolve before his eyes, and Kurt found himself standing in a completely white room, so white that it hurt his eyes. He blinked a few times, effecting the white to turn into something else… but it didn't. Not completely, anyways. In front of him, suddenly there was a piano and someone with dark hair sitting on the piano wearing a white button up shirt and white slacks… really just all white in general, playing a soft, beautiful, but sad tune…

It was Blaine. A normal Blaine, not older or younger. Just… Blaine.

The dark haired teen didn't seem to notice Kurt's presence behind him, and continued to play softly, pressing the keys of the piano with purpose, and Kurt allowed himself to simply stand there and listen, his eyes slipping closed because it was so beautiful and he didn't want to leave and return to the real world… because in the real world, there wasn't a place as beautiful as this white space. In the real world, he was hurt and hospitalized, in the real world Blaine would never play the piano for him…

Hell, Kurt wasn't even sure if the real Blaine could play the piano.

The song slowed slowly to a stop, and Kurt opened his eyes again in time to see Blaine turning around on the piano bench, his bright hazel eyes watching him calculatingly… before breaking out into a small grin that made Kurt inhale deeply, finally not hurting himself by inhaling.

Dream Blaine stood up and walked over to Kurt slowly, his small grin turning into a larger one as he approached Kurt. Kurt expected Blaine to stop a suitable distance away from him, but he didn't. Instead, the dark haired boy continued to approach him, and Kurt backed away instinctively, until he ran into a table that just suddenly seemed to be there for no particular reason.

Blaine walked straight up to him, and Kurt slid down a little bit, though not enough to fall down. Blaine's hands braced themselves against the table on both sides of Kurt's body, and Blaine's nose was maybe an inch away from his. Yes, Kurt was confused. Yes, Kurt was panicking a little bit. No, he wasn't scared.

"B-Blaine?" Kurt whispered, breaking the silence that had previously surrounded them.

A warm look appeared in Blaine's eyes, and the teenager leaned forwards more, their noses brushing together before his head tilted to the side and moved to the side, his nose brushing against Kurt's cheek. "You're beautiful in white," he breathed into Kurt's ear, causing the paler boy to shiver a little bit before looking down at what he was wearing.

Seems like he was in white… actually, the same outfit he wore for the New Direction's "One of Us" performance… weird.

"Th-Thanks," was all Kurt could manage to say into the air, sounding too loud for the empty space around them—where did the piano go?

Blaine chuckled softly again and moved a little downwards, ghosting his lips against Kurt's neck, making the brunet squirm a little bit, "You stutter a lot."

"O-Only around you." Kurt was never that honest in real life.

He didn't even think he had told himself anything that was going through his mind mid-dream.

"And why is that?" Blaine was suddenly nose-to-nose with him again, the movement far too fast to be real. His head tilted again and he was moving forwards, lips mere centimeters from Kurt's, "You don't have to tell me if you don't want to…"

"It's because I l—"


Kurt's eyes opened abruptly at the sound of a chair being noisily scraped across the floor next to his bed, and winced painfully because… seriously? He already had a headache… no need to add to it.

Letting out a small groan, he turned his head to the side—and blinked a few times when he saw Santana standing in front of his window and the chair that had been a constant bedside companion was on the floor, "S'ntana…?" he rasped, before clearing his throat with a little bit of difficulty. "What are you—"

"I was to ask you a few questions," was what she said automatically, turning away from the window, staring at Kurt levelly.

"Really?" Kurt drawled, his mind automatically more alert.

"Yes, really," Santana shot back, walking back over to the side of the bed, grabbing the chair and sitting it back up, before sitting down in it, crossing her arms and legs, a small frown pulling at her lips, "I'm not about to blame you for Blaine's sudden extreme isolation," Kurt's eyebrow rose and he felt worry eat at him again, "because I know that it's Karofsky's fault this time."

Kurt blinked, really wanting to sit up, but he knew that was a horrible idea, so he settled for looking an even mix of confused and angry, "Karofsky's fault? What did he do to Blaine?"

Santana glared at him, leaning back in the chair that she was sitting in, "Hey. I'm the one asking the questions here," she said, and Kurt gave her a look. She sighed, "Ugh, fine, only because you're lying in a hospital bed bandaged—my dad is totally your doctor by the way" that explained why he was Dr. Lopez. And looked a little bit like Santana. "I don't know what Karofsky did, exactly, all I know is that it drove Blaine back into staying in his room at all times except for at school. I tried to get him to tell me, but he only let me into his room once and all I got out of his muttered explanation was Karofsky's name—his last name. Blaine never uses people's last names, but that probably doesn't have anything to do with it. The point is, is that Karofsky did something… plus, another reason why Blaine stopped his apparent "recovery" is because you're not there anymore, but whatever."

Kurt's eyebrow rose at this. He had been helping Blaine… "recover"? … Well, whatever Santana said. He wasn't about to believe her necessarily, but there was no point fighting with her, especially when he couldn't move without freaking out with pain. "Well, okay. What was the thing that you needed to ask me, anyways?"

The angry expression on the Hispanic girl's face faded slowly, and she looked off to the side for a few moment, biting her bottom lip just a little bit, "… How can you stand it?" she asked, suddenly extremely quiet.

Kurt frowned a little, clearly confused, "Stand what?"

"The bullying," Santana said a little louder, looking back at Kurt, her tortured expression honestly shocking him. "The taunts, the attacks… everything that people do to you just because of your sexuality."

Nothing was said for a few moments, the only sound around them being the noise of the machines and people walking around outside of his room.

Santana closed her eyes for a few moments, before leaning forwards slightly, her eyes opening again, "I'm a dyke, Hummel."

Kurt's eyes absolutely widened, because even though it was clear to him that Santana felt something for Brittany, he hadn't been expecting that. Maybe bisexuality, but not full out lesbianism.

"Seriously?" he breathed, raising an eyebrow at her.

She groaned, obviously a little annoyed by his reaction, "Yes, Hummel. I play on, Hummel. I play on your team," Kurt just stared at her some more. She sighed softly, running a hand through her thick, dark hair, "Why didn't you pull away from Blaine when the bullying got worse? Why did you just… deal with it, rather than just run away?" she asked, quiet again.

Kurt stared at her for a few more moments, before he looked away, slowly turning his head and staring above his head, thinking deeply for a few moments… yes, Blaine was one of his closest friends. He had never left a friend behind just because he was being bullied… but at the same time, being friends with someone had rarely been the actual cause of bullying. It wasn't like not being friend's with Blaine was that hard… yes, Blaine had been the one to ask him to hang out for the first week or two of their closer friendship but it would've only taken telling Blaine about the bullying to get him to stop hanging out with Kurt…

Suddenly, Kurt gasped, ignoring the pain in his chest, and snapped his head back to Santana, ignoring the pounding in his head, even though he had to close his eyes for a few moments because his vision went a little spotty. He looked at Santana, though, with a completely serious expression, "You go through… anything and everything when you're in love, Santana."

Her eyes widened spectacularly and her mouth formed a perfect 'o'. It took her a few long moments to blink, bite her bottom lip, and nod a little bit.

Kurt could've sworn that he heard her say something like "I should have expected this," but he couldn't be too sure, since he had closed his eyes when she spoke, and when he opened them, she was already out the door, a nurse coming in with his step mom to take her place in his room.

He laid there, staring at the ceiling as the two women bustled around his room, gently lifting him into a sitting position. He didn't register the pain what so ever as the nurse did her normal check ups, and answered her questions in a flat, monotonous tone. Carole seemed a little concerned by his behavior and asked him if anything was wrong. Kurt simply said that he was thinking.

Kurt hadn't even been lying. He was thinking. Hard.

Love. Had he honestly said that to Santana of all people?

He couldn't love Blaine. He couldn't.

Blaine was… he was safe. Or safer than Kurt was. Kurt wasn't even sure if Blaine was gay and that just… messed up everything and… it could happen. It just couldn't, because things got around school—holy fuck he basically told Santana he loved Blaine—which he doesn't—and he tells people everything and shit, shit, shit Blaine was going to get the heat. Then again, Santana wouldn't do that to Blaine and…

Just… just… no. No. Kurt didn't even know what happened to Blaine, so it wasn't a valid thing because Blaine could be a fucking serial killer—oh, fuck it all. That was just a ridiculous excuse and Kurt knew it.

Kurt thought back to his dreams… the first dreams (or was it only one dream) in such a long time that he remembered that hadn't been memories… they had to mean something, right? Or maybe he was overanalyzing…

He was dimly aware of being laid back down on the bed, and Carole taking a seat next to him by he bed. Kurt just stared at the ceiling and struggled mentally with everything that was just suddenly dumped on him when he was in the hospital of all places.

Blaine.

Blaine Anderson.

Kurt's eyes slipped closed as he became somewhat aware of a pain reducing drug being injected into his arms that made him pass out ridiculously quickly and normally into a dreamless sleep.

His last thought before he fell into the tight, welcoming embrace of an empty sleep?

I'll be okay, Blaine. I promise. There's no use mentally denying that I love you when I'm basically drugged as fuck. So… I love you.