Warning! This chapter is really angsty and contains spoilers from The Fault In Our Stars, proceed with caution!

Bibliophobia

Kurt stood in front of his closet, tapping his chin, debating on what to wear. He concluded that his attire shouldn't be too fancy, it had to be casual enough, but he also wanted to show Blaine that their getting together meant something to him. He brought it down to two different options, either black pants with a simple red button up shirt, or the same pants with a white button up shirt and a grey vest. After thinking of every possible outcome, he grabbed the white shirt and vest, deciding that it was the best option. He dragged the clothes into the bathroom, setting them gently on the counter before hopping into the shower. He made it a quick one, managing to scrub his hair and skin in under ten minutes, and his clothes were on within the next twelve. He was starting to comb his hair in the proper fashion when a knock came on his door.

"Burt says that lunch is ready, Kurt." Came the unmistakable voice of Finn.

"Alright," he made the last touches to his hair, straightening his vest before opening his door, greeted by the sight of his step brother standing in his room.

"Hey Finn?"

"Yeah?" Finn took a step back, allowing Kurt to walk out of the bathroom.

"Can I borrow your car for the day? I'm going out." Finn rolled his eyes.

"For the last time, it's your car too. Mom and Burt got it for both of us."

"Hm, is that so?" He mumbled, grabbing his bag from the corner of his room, walking back over to the desk and throwing in his math textbook, notebook, and for good measure, pens and pencils. Finn narrowed his eyes in confusion.

"Where are you going?"

"Blaine's," he said without looking up. "He needs help in math, so I'm helping him."

"Blaine as in, the guy you like, Blaine?" Kurt looked at his brother, a blush creeping to his cheekbones.

"Who told you that?"

"Everyone in glee club can tell." He waved it away dismissingly, still blushing.

"I don't like him."

"Whatever dude." Finn shrugged, walking out of his room. Kurt sighed, shaking his head, swinging his bag over his shoulder and walking out, following Finn to the kitchen.

His dad was sitting at the table, reading a newspaper, a plate of grilled chicken and a side of mashed potatoes on the side. Carole was at the sink, washing dishes from breakfast.

"Is that what we're having?" Kurt asked, clearly disgusted.

"No," replied Burt without looking up. "That's what we are having. Carole made you a salad." Carole turned off the sink, flicking her hands clean of water before walking to the fridge and opening it.

"It has spinach, strawberries and orange slices in it." She said kindly, placing a bowl on the table. "No dressing." Kurt raised his hands to a mock prayer gesture, looking at the ceiling.

"And I thank thee for bringing forth Carole, someone who actually has taste in proper food."

"Yeah, yeah," Burt grumbled, rolling his eyes. "Just sit down and eat." Kurt did as he was told, placing his bag down and sitting in his normal chair. Burt glanced up, eyeing the bag on the floor.

"Going somewhere, kiddo?" He asked.

"Yeah," Kurt responded between bites. "Blaine's house."

"Apparently he's a tutor now." Finn added in.

"Blaine?"

"Yeah Dad. He's a friend from school."

"New recruit to the glee club." Finn kept inputting. This seemed to cause some tension in Burt's shoulders to release.

"And he's…" Burt trailed off, looking carefully at Kurt.

"Not a homophobic dad, that's not his reason for being at McKinley." He smiled encouragingly at Burt, who nodded, finally comforted enough to look back at his paper.

"What time will you be back?"

"Dunno, but I'll have my phone, so text me if you need anything, alright?"

"Works for me kiddo, have fun."

"Will do." Kurt finished his salad, standing up and bringing the empty bowl to the sink, kissing Carole on the cheek and thanking her before walking out.

"Keys are on the table dude!" Finn decided to call out right as Kurt reached the door. He backtracked, grabbing the keys and saying a final goodbye before stepping out into the Ohio air.

Kurt slid into the car, placing his messengers bag in the passengers seat before igniting the engine. He placed in a familiar CD prior to backing out of the driveway.

Blaine straightened his deep blue shirt again, glancing around the room again. He spent most of the morning cleaning it, wanting to impress Kurt. He placed all his books back on his shelf, made the bed for once, and he was finally looking at the white carpet again. He glanced over to his desk, where he had gingerly placed his book. Looking at his watch, he shrugged. He had a good amount of time left until Kurt got here, so reading wouldn't hurt anything, right? Besides, he may even have the chance to finish it in time.

Kurt pulled up to the curb by what Blaine had texted was his house. Kurt glanced at the house, smiling a bit. The color was a pale yellow, with a mint green as the trim. The front of the lawn was covered in marigolds, singling it out from any other house in Lima. Kurt stepped out of the car, walking up to the door and knocking on it three times. A minute passed before someone opened it.

"Hello, I assume you're Kurt?" Kurt smiled.

"Yes ma'am." He assumed that the woman standing before him was Blaine's mother, they both had the same hazel eyes, and while her hair was curly, it was lighter than Blaine's.

"Well, please come in." She stepped to the side, allowing Kurt entrance. He stepped in, standing side to Mrs. Anderson. She was a couple inches shorter than him, and he guessed that Blaine was the same height as Kurt.

"Kurt," she clapped her hands together, "I thank you for coming all the way over here, but now isn't really a good time." Kurt scrunched his eyebrows together, confusion crossing his features.

"How come? Blaine was expecting me, right?"

"We all were," she assured. "But something came up and-" A strangled scream came from what Kurt assumed was upstairs, followed by a loud thud of something falling over. Kurt looked at Mrs. Anderson, eyes wide.

"Is everything alright?"

"Fine!" She guaranteed, "Blaine is just going through one of his moods-" another crash came from the level above, and she hid her face in her hands, mumbling.

"Mrs. Anderson, if you don't mind," Kurt said cautiously, "could I go see Blaine? Maybe I could help." Kurt watched as she took a deep breath, her shoulder rising and falling before looking up again, and a sad smile across her face.

"You could try, his room is upstairs, first door on the left. Be careful," she added as Kurt took another step into her home, "when I went to check on him, he threw a shoe at me." Kurt smiled reassuringly.

"I'll be careful." He slowly creeped up the stairs, keeping one hand on the railing. As he got closer, he could hear heart wrenching sobs, along with smaller, quieter screams of agony. He reached the door, wincing as Blaine made more throat aching cries.

"Blaine?" He said gently, lightly tapping the door. Something hard slammed into the door, causing Kurt to slightly jump.

"Go away!" He waited a moment before trying again.

"Blaine, it's me." This time he opened the door a fraction, squeezing in.

He gasped at the sight. Books were spewed all over the floor, some open, some with the protective cover still shielding the pages. The night stand was on its side, and Kurt guessed that's what he heard crashing downstairs. The bed in the center of the room was a mess, the blankets twisted everywhere, the rightful pillows thrown to the opposite side of the room. The dresser had all the drawers opened, a few barely hanging on to the dresser. The desk had papers ripped apart on it, the desk lamp toppled over with the glass bulb shattered. But what scared Kurt the most was the empty medicine containers, their contents of blue and green pills thrown all over the room.

"Blaine?" He said a bit louder, full concern edging in his voice.

"I said, go away!" Blaine emerged from the pile of twisted blankets, death glaring at Kurt.

"Blaine," he took a attentive step forward. "It's me, Kurt."

"Yeah, I know it's you." Blaine snarled.

"So you know that I'm not going to hurt you," Kurt said, looking straight at Blaine. Blaine just laughed, it was slightly hysterical, mocking Kurt's comment.

"I'm not worried about you of all people hurting me. You think you could hurt me," he laughed again, "nothing can. Not after what I just went through." Kurt bit his lip, starting to feel slightly scared. This wasn't Blaine, his eyes were cold, showing hysterics and full on sadness rather than their soft golden brown. His curls were a mess, and his lips were pulled back in a menacing smile that made Kurt want to flinch. Kurt knew that the phobia could sometimes cause hormones of depression at certain times, so he decided to try a different approach.

"Blaine, what happened?" He whispered, looking around the room again. Blaine blinked, then laughed again, a bit softer this time, shaking his head.

"What, happened?" He laughed again, still shaking his head. "No one has asked me that before, you're – you're something else, Kurt." Blaine threw the blanket aside, standing up and walking over to the desk. Kurt could see from here that Blaine's shirt was wrinkled, half of it un – tucked from his jeans. Kurt could also see that a corner from the sleeve had been ripped off, as if Blaine was trying to tug the shirt off with no such luck. Blaine shoved everything off of the desk, only leaving a familiar book there. He picked it up carelessly, crushing pills under his feet as he walked over to Kurt.

"You want to know what happened." He said. It wasn't a question, but a statement. Kurt nodded, and the next thing he knew, he was slammed against the door, the corners of the book digging into his chest as Blaine's palm held it there.

"Well, this is what happened." He snarled, his face inches away from Kurt's. Under normal circumstances, Kurt would be blushing, with how close his lips were to Blaine's. But right now he was just scared, Kurt had been bullied before, often slammed into wall by jocks from Orville. The fear there was different from here. There, he feared his life, a fear that was physical, of him loosing something that was attached to his brain.

Here, he feared for Blaine. For sanity. This was a fear that was attached to every nerve that wasn't connected to his brain, but to his heart. The nerves that made the heart skip a beat when you fall in love, or to start to race when your name was coming up on a list, forcing you to present something.

Kurt tried to push it all away, looking closer at Blaine's face. His forehead and jaw were indented with shapes like crescent moons, like fingernail marks. His cheeks were tear stained and brightly red. His lips were chapped and pale under the blood stains that were by teeth marks, proving that Blaine had been recently biting his lip. And his eyes, his eyes weren't as cold as they looked from a distance. They had water pooled in the corners, and they showed sadness and hysteria. They were jittery, searching Kurt's face for a reaction, for something. Kurt took a deep breath, looking down at the book. Blaine had bitten off all the fingernails on the hand that was holding the book to his chest, it rising and falling as Kurt breathed.

"Didn't like the ending?" He squeaked, offering Blaine a friendly smile. He watched as Blaine's eyes grew, dancing around even more.

"No," he whispered, "I didn't." He took a step back, the book falling with a clutter to the floor. Kurt stayed against the door, looking at Blaine. Blaine stood there too, and for a moment, Kurt thought that he had come back, but realized that was a lie, when Blaine narrowed his eyes again, grinning horribly.

"Want to know why I hated it, Hummel?"

"Blaine-" Kurt tried, but was cut off, Blaine clearly not listening.

"Of course you do! Because you're the science teacher whose favorite subject is art." He leaped forward again, so that their chests were touching, and their noses barely grazing each other. "Because," Blaine whispered, staring right into Kurt's eyes. "you are the one that cares." He then jumped away, scooping up the blue book and sitting in the rollie chair by the desk.

"Hazel Grace!" He said, holding up the book for Kurt to see. "Cancer victim. She has lung cancer, making it hard for her to breath, the doctors wont give her a transplant though, because they believe that she is a lost cause." He paused, tilting his head slightly. "You know what cancer is, Hummel?" Kurt could only nod.

"My mom died of cancer, Blaine." He said quietly. Blaine eyes narrowed.

"Did they say she would survive?" Blaine must've taken Kurt's silence as a yes, because he continued. "Then you will know my exact problem with this story." He spun in the chair, and once he faced Kurt again, he stopped, leaning forward, resting his elbows on his knees, and still holding up the book he had been reading for the past week.

"Augustus Waters." He started, "cancer survivor. These two meet at a cancer get together thing. Hazel learns that he is cancer free, and only has a twenty percent chance of ever getting it back." He spun his chair again, letting it go in circles for a bit. "Two kids. One has cancer, the other doesn't. Can you suspect which death I prepared for, Hummel?"

"Hazel's?" Kurt guessed hopefully.

"That's correct!" He stood, beaming at Kurt. "So I prepared! I told myself, 'she will die, and it will be okay.' But guess the plot twist." He looked at Kurt, waiting for an answer.

"She doesn't die, and they both live?" Blaine tilted his head back and laughed, laughed as if he was a scary older brother that was making fun Kurt for thinking of such a stupid question.

"Don't you wish that? Wouldn't you think that?" He walked towards Kurt again, cupping his jaw, forcing his blue eyes to meet his dead golden brown ones. "But no. He dies Kurt. That eighty percent chance fails, and he dies, leaving Hazel Grace." He dropped his book and jaw, pacing to the other side of the room, hands clasped behind his back. "Can you now tell me the moral of the story?"

"That love lives on. Blaine, I'm sure that's the point of the story,"

"You're wrong!" Blaine whips around, anger replacing the emotion in his eyes, fists clenched at his sides. "You're wrong, Mr. Hummel. Ten points from Slytherin, detention, because you are wrong! That is not the moral of the story!"

"Then what is it?" Kurt challenged, getting braver.

"That nothing can cure anything!" He screamed. "We're sick, you and I. Just like Hazel Grace, just like Augustus. Just like your mother." He growled, eyes contracting. "And look where they all are." Kurt flinched.

Courage he told himself.

"Blaine, we aren't sick," he took a step forward, closer to Blaine.

"Then explain these!" Blaine bent down, picking out the green and blue pills that littered the floor. "Normal people don't have to take these! But we do, all sick people have to take these!"

"But we're different," Kurt says gently, wrapping his hand gently around Blaine's shaking wrists. "We are curable." Blaine pushed Kurt away.

"We aren't, we aren't! I've been like this for over thirteen years, Kurt Hummel. And these," he held up the pills, "haven't done a thing." He threw them back to the floor, crushing them with the heel of his foot. He then sat on the edge of his bed, placing his face in his hands.

"Blaine," he walked forward, sitting on his heels on the floor by Blaine's knees, taking his hands in his own. "We aren't born with phobias. They are usually from a traumatizing experience from adolescence."

"Example." Blaine demanded. Staring Kurt down.

"Rachel," he replied calmly, "her phobia of athazagoraphobia? It's from her dad's telling her at young age that fame was important. Leading her to fear not being famous, leading her to being afraid that if she didn't do huge things, she would be forgotten." Blaine contemplated this, biting his lip in concentration.

"You don't even know my phobia." He muttered. "You know nothing."

"I know that you have kinesiophobia. The fear of movement. I know this because Rachel and I broke into the school files to learn everything about you." Blaine gasped.

"You know everything about me?"

"Everything the school records show," he said apologetically. Blaine sneered.

"So what, you're just some doctor here to try and make me better? Is that why you're here?"

"I'm here to help. Now, close your eyes." He covered Blaine's eyes with his hand, not removing it till he felt the tickle of his eyelashes against his palm. "Good. Now think back Blaine, what happened that made you scared?"

"I don't know!" He snapped.

"Think," Kurt whispered. "Think back to thirteen years ago." He watched as Blaine remembered, his eyes staying closed. It stayed like that for a bit, till he snapped his eyes opened again, frantically pushing Kurt.

"No! I don't want to remember! Go away!" He twisted himself in the blankets, hidden from view.

"Blaine!" Kurt stood, walking to the bed, "I'm trying to help you!"

"Go away!" Came the muffled reply. Kurt crossed his arms, stubbornness getting the best of him.

"No, Blaine. I wont."

"Go away, or I'll lock you in a closet that is so small and dark that you can barely breathe!" Kurt eyes widened, and he backed up till he hit the desk, his shaking hands desperately grasping at the edge of the wood. Blaine sat up, revealing himself along with an evil smirk.

"That got under you skin, didn't it, Hummel?" Kurt couldn't reply, the thought of the closet clogging his thoughts, his started hyperventilating, begging for air.

"Good." Blaine laid back down, closing his eyes. "Now leave." This time around, Kurt didn't need telling twice, he ran out and down the stairs before he could logically think. He was out the door in seconds, jumping into the car.

"Breathe in, breathe out," he told himself, his hand clutching his chest. Once he calmed down a fraction, he reached into the compartment on the passenger side, pulling out a tablet and swallowing a few pills. He let them settle in for a bit before driving away.

However, his hands were shaking too badly, and he had to stop two blocks down, afraid his terrible driving would get him killed.

He rested his forehead against the drivers wheel, sobbing. Blaine had threatened him in the worst of ways, bringing up his mother like that and daring to stuff him in a dark closet. Kurt hiccupped, closing his eyes. Blaine wasn't like that, he was the angel that Kurt had saved in the hallway, the boy who could sing and dance and would share a packet of gum with anyone.

Yeah, well he just proved that wrong. A voice in his head said. After a few more shaky breaths, Kurt put the car back in drive, going home.

Blaine woke up an hour later to the feel of something warm on his forehead.

"Ugh," he groaned, keeping his eyes closed.

"Oh, you're awake." The voice of his mother said.

"What happened?" He mumbled.

"I'm not sure," Blaine could imagine his mother biting her lip. "I called a doctor, and after describing your behavior, he said a depression spell had hit you the same time you were having an anxiety attack, causing you to loose control of your emotions." He sighed.

"Great." He mumbled to himself.

"Hey mom?" Cooper said from the doorway, "can I talk to Blainey alone for a second?"

"Sure sweetie." His mother tapped his cheek before walking out, leaving Blaine to Cooper. Blaine opened his eyes as his brother walked to his bedside, and Blaine offered him a small smile.

"Hey," Cooper smiled pleasantly at him too, before reaching out and striking Blaine across the face.

"Ow!" He cried, sitting up and cupping his reddening cheek. "What was that for?"

"You are an idiot." Cooper snarled. "Do you know what you have done?"

"I don't remember anything!" He snapped back, glaring at his brother.

"Oh," Cooper said, pretending to sound surprised. "Well, Kurt came by when you were having your 'issues'." Blaine could feel himself pale.

"W – what?"

"Yeah," Cooper said, mocking calm. "And do you want to know what you told him?" Blaine didn't, but all he could do was stare at Cooper in shock.

"Well, you talked about his mother. His dead mother, Blaine."

"Oh god," Blaine sat up in the bed, ignoring the cloth that fell from his head.

"Yeah. You talked about her not being cured for a reason, or something like that. But want to know the worst thing you told Kurt?"

No. Blaine trembled.

"You told him," Cooper's voice dropped dramatically, "that if he didn't leave, you were going to lock him in a closet so small and dark that he wouldn't be able to breathe."

Oh my god.

"No…" Blaine shot up from the bed, looking around frantically. He felt like he was going to be sick. "No, I – I couldn't have! I wouldn't! Argh, where's my phone…"

"Oh no you wont!" Cooper grabbed his elbow, pulling him back on the bed. "You're leaving him alone. Don't call him, text him, or communicate."

"Cooper, I have to apologize, explain!"

"Do you think he will answer to anything Blaine? After what you did? Give him a few hours to calm down, collect himself. Then you can consider talking to him." Cooper stomped out of the room, leaving his brother with that.

Blaine felt sick, how could he ever say something like that? And to Kurt to all people! He fell onto his back, rubbing his eyes.

I'm so sorry Kurt, was all he could think, so, so, sorry.

A/N: Whoo! That was long! To be honest, I've been waiting to write this chapter from day one, and am very happy to how it turned out!
Please leave a review and tell me what you think!

I'm kind of ashamed to say that I loved writing the angsty/creepy/horrible Blaine. But don't worry! It's (mostly) all fluff from here on out, I can promise no more of this pure angst!