Author's notes: Catching you up to my LJ people. And I have a friend who texts almost exactly the way I make Finn text in this chapter. Never do this. It makes you look terribly stupid and 'tis one of the more irritating things in life to receive and have to decipher something like that. (end of public service announcement) Enjoy.
It was two in the afternoon when the text came through. Blaine had been watching his phone all day, waiting for the device to jump from his desk, strain against its power cord, and buzz with the news he so desperately needed. There had been two false alarms that day—one call from his dad at the office around lunchtime to check up on him, wondering how he was doing, and if he was still okay with the date night his parents had planned for later, and the other was a text from David, curious to know if he was busy Tuesday afternoon—Blaine had been almost ready to give up when his phone jerked twice across the smooth wood of his desk, signaling a new text. Probably David again, or maybe Wes complaining about his cousins, whom he was visiting in Denver for the month.
Typical.
It was almost jarring to see Finn's name in the sender's line. He'd been waiting so long, had been so anxious for news, any news, all day, that it was a shock to finally get some.
They think they no wats wrong w/ kurt. Hes still ritas & prolly not released for a few days. Will let u kno. F
Well. That was helpful. He sighed and placed the phone back on the desk. God, he missed Kurt. The boy almost never used text speak when he contacted him—nearly always spelled everything out, capitalized all the proper letters, used proper punctuation, his thoughts always complete and tangible. The memory made him smile and then want to cry as he fell back onto the mussed covers of his bed.
He needed to pull himself together. He was tired from his total lack of sleep; even tears hadn't helped wear him out enough to put him to sleep. He hadn't bothered to shower that morning, just threw on some different clothes so his mom wouldn't get suspicious if she came home early. Dad was never home early anymore. Besides, weren't they going out later tonight? Yeah, that was what that call from earlier had been. Whatever. He didn't feel like talking to either of them anyway. He pulled one of his pillows to his chest and curled up around it. God, he needed to pull himself together. It was just one boy. Who had one breakdown. Nothing big. Not the end of the world. But it was Kurt, and he just couldn't let this go, couldn't get this out of his head.
He got up and wandered back over to his desk. His hand lingered over his phone for a few seconds before he finally built up enough courage to touch it. He pulled it free from its cord and sat down in his uncomfortable chair. The old wooden legs creaked with his weight. The tiny screen of his phone flashed to life under his fingers. The picture of a green battery blinked by, happily informing him that his phone was now fully charged.
He opened up his messages and found the one from Finn.
They think they no wats wrong w/ kurt.
They think they kno whats wrong w/ kurt.
They think they know what's wrong with Kurt.
They think they know what's wrong with Kurt. Finn could tell him what was wrong with Kurt. He could get rid of the uncertainty that was eating him alive. But his fingers still hovered stupidly over the screen of his phone. What if Kurt didn't want him to know about all of this? What would he do in this situation? He thought about that one for a moment and only drew a blank. He didn't know. He couldn't even picture something like this happening to him. What should he do? What would Kurt do?
He hit reply. It couldn't hurt. But…but what the hell would he say?
Is he awake? Are you allowed to see him? Am I? How's he doing? What's wrong with him? Should I come down? How are your parents doing? How is Kurt doing? Is it anything permanent? Can this be fixed? Is he still Kurt? A thousand questions rushed through his brain. What the hell should he say? His fingers moved almost of their own accord.
How's he doing? He hit send.
Simple. Simple was better, right?
He placed the phone back on the desk. He really needed to pull himself together. A shower. He needed a shower. A shower would clear his head. Finn should respond in that amount of time. He pushed away from his desk and stood. He looked at the phone. Still quiet. Of course it was; he'd only sent out the message a few seconds ago, right? Good lord, he needed a shower.
As he turned to leave, a familiar buzzing filled his ears. Two short bursts. A text. He jumped back to his phone. Finn.
Better. R u free tomorrow? Friends can c him tomorrow afternoon. F
Tomorrow. What did he have going on tomorrow? He looked at the calendar hanging on his wall. A blue jay stared back at him from the shiny page. Birds. Right. He remembered. He liked birds. The calendar. A gift from his sister when she couldn't make it back in time for his birthday. She'd sent him the calendar instead, apologizing profusely when she was in town a week later. Birds. He liked birds. He'd always liked birds. He glanced over at Pavarotti's cage. The little yellow bird was staring at his reflection in the mirror Blaine had hung in his cage, bobbing up and down and side to side, eyes never leaving that other bird behind the reflective material. He smiled a little. The bird was kind of like Kurt—such a pretty little thing, but always checking himself to make sure he was perfect. Would Kurt still be like that, after all was said and done?
He shook his head and looked back to the calendar. Monday. There were no notes scribbled down. He checked his phone. Still nothing.
I'm free. When can I come down?
He didn't put the phone back this time, just stared at it in his hand, waiting for Finn's message back. Waiting. His eyes locked onto his curtains. He should open the window. There looked to be a breeze blowing outside, if the subtle glimpses of rustling leaves peeking in from the curtains were to be believed. The stillness of the fabric was bothering him more than it should, and he wanted some sunlight. He really wanted some sunlight. But he couldn't bring himself to move. Finn might text him back.
Any time now.
Any time.
One buzz. Two. He could feel his heartbeat thrumming through his entire body as the device vibrated in his palm. He flipped the phone around and opened the message. It was from Wes. He was threatening to strangle his cousin Dianne again. Shit. He couldn't deal with this right now. He threw his phone onto his bed and stormed over to the window and shoved the thing open. There. Open. Finally. He breathed in deep, letting the fresh air fill his lungs.
What was he doing? Why was this hitting him so hard? It was one boy. Just a boy. A friend. Nothing more. Why was he freaking out? What the hell was he doing?
He looked back over at Pavarotti's cage. The bird was still enchanted by his reflection. Looking at him made Blaine want to cry. What was he doing? What the hell was he doing?
He walked back over to his bed. Shit. Another new message. Missed while he was busy with the window. He hastily tapped the screen of his phone and opened up the new text.
Is 3 ok? F