Hey there
So basically, I broke my resolution like a week ago (oops) but I'm excusing myself from that because last week was a huge bundle of stress and deadlines and exhaustion and exams. So much so, I can hardly tell the days apart and I've explored that in Blaine's feelings a little bit in this chapter.
This chapter's based loosely (not really) around the prompt "PE" from Ellie which she gave me as we were sitting in PE funnily enough. Even if it isn't PE, it's still strenuous activity and anything as far as lifting a finger is what I class as exercise.
Title is taken from the song Paranoid by the Jonas Brothers.
Hope you like!
Rating: K+
The blood was pounding in Blaine's ears, flowing through his body and making himself hit harder, harder at the punching bag as it swing precariously on its hook. He couldn't stop hitting if he tried. He was so annoyed and tired and frustrated and tightly wound and stressed and pissed off. Every hit to the bag was a hit to the leer that jock had sneered at him as he passed him earlier in the corridor, every swing was a knock at the looming school work he had to get started when he got home, every punch was a blow to every other thing that was setting Blaine off.
The music blasted through his earphones. He knew it was too loud; it was way too loud. He didn't care. His mother would nag at him to turn it down unless he wanted to be deaf when he grew up and some of the other guys hanging around the gym were probably looking at him with stony faces because he didn't want to talk to them. He didn't want to see them; he didn't want to even acknowledge them. He simply didn't care.
He was just so tired.
The week was a haze from Monday morning. He couldn't distinguish the days; he couldn't tell when Tuesday stopped and Wednesday began. He didn't remember anything about the previous night. All he could told was that he'd laid on his bed with his chest feeling tight and his head pounding and his thoughts races a million miles a minute. He only realised he didn't remember anything about the previous night whenever he woke up that morning and checked his messages from Kurt to find that he'd been talking to him and telling him how fed up he was. He read the messages as if he'd never seen them before. He didn't remember thinking those exact thoughts and typing those exact words and he certainly couldn't remember ever telling any of it to Kurt.
He hit the bag harder, just because if he didn't hit it then he didn't know what he would. His arms were aching under the exertion but he ignored it and pushed on, his muscles in his shoulders were crying out for a break and his mouth was telling him he needed water. But Blaine ignored everything his body was saying to him and pressed on even harder as the sweat dripped down his back and chest, most likely soaking through his white vest top.
He'd have to shower thoroughly before going to Kurt's for Friday night dinner – twice before he knew he was clean. Blaine loved Friday night dinner at Kurt's house but he groaned inwardly at the thought today. Going to Kurt's house meant seeing smiling and laughing and acting like nothing was the matter. Going to Kurt's house meant listening to Rachel chatter on and on and on about the next duet she wanted to do with him. Going to Kurt's house meant Kurt leading him up the stairs to his room, sitting him down on his bed and asking him what the matter was. Kurt knew him too well to buy the fake smiles and forced laughs and sometimes – just sometimes – Blaine resented that quality about him.
He didn't want to let out whatever he was feeling inside to another person, even if it was Kurt who made him feel so safe and whole and connected. That's what the punching bag was for; he could let it all out physically so as he wouldn't have to deal with it emotionally.
Blaine barely noticed the locker room clearing around him. Whenever everyone had left, he finally gave into the needs of his body. He stopped his punching and grabbed the bag to steady it as it swung back towards him. He didn't realise how much he was sweating, how much he was panting until he let his shoulder sag in relief. He dropped his eyes to the gloves covering his fists and unwound the tape around them, his shoulders heaving up and down from his heavy panting. He wiped the sweat from his brow with the back of one hand once they were free before lifting his ipod from his pocket and turning the music down to a reasonable volume. He walked away from the still slightly swaying punching bag, around the corner of the first row of lockers to get to his own at the end. He looked up from his music and nearly jumped a mile whenever he saw someone sitting on the bench in between the lockers.
"Kurt," he breathed, his hand coming to rest on top of his heart which was now racing from adrenaline more than exertion.
Kurt sat with his legs crossed on the middle bench. He jeans looked practically painted on, his light blue shirt was set off with a purple scarf around his neck – more to hide the hickey Blaine had left there two nights ago rather than to accessorise his outfit – and his hair sat perfectly coiffed on the top of his head. His hands were holding his phone and he tilted his head to the side when Blaine spoke; his eyes soft and kind and slightly amused at his boyfriend's reaction.
"Hi," Kurt said, his lips curving up in a smile.
"What are you doing here?" Blaine asked as his body slowly began to return to its normal state. "I thought I was the only one left."
"I waited around," Kurt shrugged. "I took a bet with myself to see how long it would take before the sounds of punches against a poor unsuspecting bag stopped and your perfect face would round the corner to your locker."
"Oh?"
"I won, by the way," Kurt supplied whenever it seemed like Blaine wasn't going to say anymore. "I know owe myself ten dollars."
Blaine smiled slightly, looking down at the floor as he stopped the music playing in his left ear and wrapped his earphones around his ipod. He swallowed and discovered how thirsty he really was. He didn't look at Kurt as he made his way to his locker to pull out the plastic bottle of water that was sitting inside. He tilted his head bag and gulped down half the bottle at once, telling himself not to think about the way Kurt's eyes were burning into the side of his head. He lifted a red towel from his locker and buried his face in it before rubbing it against the back of his neck to dry the sweat there.
"Are you ever going to speak to me?" Kurt spoke again and Blaine closed the locker door, leaving the towel draped around his neck. He turned to look at Kurt looking at him. His expression was so soft and gentle and tender and Blaine couldn't stand looking at it without a pain in his chest occurring. He directed his gaze to the floor as he leant back against the lockers.
He shrugged.
"Blaine," Kurt's voice was tentative and the sound of shifting fabrics let Blaine know that Kurt was standing up and moving towards him. "Honey, I'm worried about you."
Blaine looked up to Kurt's open eyes whenever he touched his hand gently. "I'm okay, Kurt."
"Like I believe that," Kurt scoffed. He grabbed Blaine's other hand and held them tightly, rubbing his thumb gently over the backs of Blaine's palms. When he spoke again, his voice was quiet and searching. "Please tell me what's wrong. I just want to help you be okay."
"I just…" Blaine lowered his gaze to the circles Kurt's thumbs were mapping over his hands. he blinked and looked up to meet Kurt's eye again. "I'm just really tired."
Kurt sighed because he knew exactly what tired meant. "I hate seeing you tired."
"I'm sorry," Blaine bit his lip.
"Oh no –" Kurt shook his head, "don't be sorry. You can't help feeling tired and rundown, it's just a way of life and it's only a phase at the minute."
"I don't want you to worry about me," Blaine said quietly, looking back down to their hands again. "I hate that you worry about me. I'm honestly okay, I just need a bit of relaxation."
"Blaine, I'll always be worrying about you, even whenever you're standing right beside me with a smile so bright it makes your eyes go squinty. Worrying is in my nature and it's not as if you don't worry about me either. Worrying is okay. It means we care," Kurt told him. "And I care about you."
Blaine let out a breath through gritted teeth. "I care about you too. You know I do."
"Yes, I do know. I also know you love me and that I love you and all I want right now is to just make sure you're okay," Kurt said softly, swaying closer to Blaine, their faces inches apart.
"I will be," Blaine muttered before looking up, straight into Kurt's eyes. "I promise I will be. I just need a break."
"So take a break," Kurt said, squeezing his hands tightly. "And the first way to do that is to come to dinner tonight at my house and sit and talk to my dad because you two get on so well and I'm pretty sure you're his actual son and because I know talking to him makes you feel better. We'll have dinner and instead of watching a game or some sort of pointless sport on TV, we'll go up to my room, play some music, laugh, smile and then you'll get sad again so I'll cuddle you and you will cry into my chest and then I'll cheer you up because I know just how to do that and because I love you and I want you to be happy."
Blaine swallowed the lump in his throat and blinked away the sudden tears sitting in his eyes as he watched Kurt's face intently as he spoke. He took a deep breath to calm himself down, telling himself that the tears were for later; Kurt had just said he's expecting Blaine to cry and that he actually wants to help him.
Blaine let go of Kurt's hands and hooked his fingers into his belt loops at the waist of his jeans, tugging on them so that Kurt was pressed tight against Blaine. His lips quirked up into a smile and he wrapped his arms around Blaine's neck, playing with the loose curls there and not caring that they were covered in drying sweat.
"I love you so much," Blaine told him, his tone emphatic and intense. He looked directly into Kurt's eyes, willing him to understand just how sincere he was in the declaration. Kurt stared straight back with just as much intensity.
"I love you too," he answered quietly; he ducked his head quickly and pressed a chaste kiss to Blaine's lips. He didn't linger or turn it into anything more than a peck; they were still in McKinley High's locker room after all and even if it was after school hours, a jock could still walk in at any moment.
They stood with their foreheads resting against each other, their breaths mixing together and their noses bumping every time one of them shifted their position half an inch.
"So do I not get sex tonight?"
Kurt's laugh was bright and unexpected. He pulled away from Blaine, moving his hand to deftly fix a stray curl off his forehead. He swallowed and looked at Blaine's face with a smile.
"Not while my dad and Carole are at home," Kurt told him, his voice stern as if he was scolding a child. "You know the rules."
"But I'm sad and wanting at the minute," Blaine shrugged, his lips tilting into a teasing smirk. "I thought you might take pity on me and bend the rules."
"I'm going round to yours tomorrow Blaine," Kurt said, an underlying tone of laughter to his voice. "Surely you can wait until then."
Blaine grinned but looked completely genuine when he replied, "I'd wait forever if you wanted me to."
"I know you would and I love you because of that." Kurt sighed and ran his hands through Blaine's hair. "However, I will take back my promise to cuddle and cry with you tonight if you do not let me go so that you can shower very, very thoroughly to get the sweat and grossness on you off."
Blaine laughed and let go of Kurt's waist, letting him back away to retrieve his bag which was still sitting on the bench between the rows of lockers. Blaine admired the graceful movements of Kurt's body as he bent down to lift the strap of his bag, slipping it over his right shoulder, tilting his body slightly to the left so that it wouldn't fall off as he turned to face Blaine again. He dug his phone out of his pocket and unlocked it, rolled his eyes at whatever was on the screen before locking it again and looking back up at Blaine.
"Rachel's calling me about a wardrobe emergency for tomorrow," Kurt explained whenever he saw Blaine's curious expression. He turned to his left to walk to the end of the row of lockers. "Of course, who better to help her out with it than yours truly?"
Blaine smiled, turning his head so that his eyes could follow Kurt's retreating back. "You'd better go help her then."
"Mm," Kurt gave a non-committal shrug before turning back to face Blaine. "No matter what I say, she'll still disagree and no matter how much I tell her to get rid of it, she will insist on keeping that awful reindeer sweater."
"I think it's cute," Blaine commented.
"Okay since I'm feeling like a cuddle tonight, I'm going to forget you ever said that and leave before you dig an even bigger hole for yourself," Kurt said and Blaine laughed. Kurt smiled at the sound before lifting a hand in half a wave. "I'll see you later, Blaine."
Blaine's eyes lingered on the spot where Kurt was standing for a few seconds after he disappeared. "Bye Kurt."
