A/N Who's a bad person? I am! This fic has been sitting, and sitting, and sitting and I have been neglecting it in favor of another fic I am writing. It's called The World To Gain and I am self promoting it. It's modernday!thief!Kurt; Klaine.
Swim 'Til You Drown
Kurt felt like a stranger in his own home - a phrase of heavy usage and severe meaning. He padded around the house silently, jumping at the mere croaks and groans of the floorboards beneath him. His father was almost never mad at him, which made the situation nearly one hundred times worse; it was a feat Kurt didn't even deem possible at this point - his situation being worse. How could it? Everything already seemed so hopeless and drawn out.
Only a few days have passed since Kurt and Burt's chat, and Kurt and Karofsky's chat-turned-to-fight spiel. Burt had practically banned Blaine from coming in a two hundred yard radius of him, Kurt or the house, and as an extra precaution, had confiscated Kurt's phone. Burt was not one to be strict, and by Kurt's observances, he wasn't keen on the idea of punishment. Besides his hostage phone (and Blaine, he supposed), Burt had let him be. His father had barely said more than a single word to him, and Kurt knew his father was getting a sick kick out of it.
The only thing to distract him was school, and any person who had ever attended a public facility like McKinley knew that textbooks could only do so much for you until even essays on atomic structure faded to a fine layer of gray.
School was where he was now, currently holed up in the choir room with Brittany and Rachel. The three of them (it was four, until Santana left) munched on their lunches while making idle side conversation. The entirety of the Glee club had not opened back up to Kurt as of yet, and as it stood, Brittany, Rachel, Santana and Puck were the only ones to keep a firm stance behind him.
Mercedes hadn't spoken to him in what seemed like centuries. She was his best friend, and the long, hard looks she would send him during class or in the halls would instantly throw a blow to his chest.
Things were crumbling, and crumbling fast. He just hoped his strong demeanour wouldn't wear thin.
"Hey," Kurt said, pausing to look up from his sandwich, "Where did Santana scurry off to?"
Brittany shrugged. "She just had to go to her locker. She'll be back."
Rachel folded her used napkin up neatly, before rising from her chair to throw it away. Near the wastebin was the door, and she looked out of it absentmindedly. Brittany put down her grapes with a determined air, and moved to face Kurt properly. Her mouth was set in a serious line.
"I know you've been trying to be brave, and everything, but I can tell that you're really getting sad," she said, and Rachel turned an inquisitive head towards her. She walked back towards the two of them, crossing her arms and clutching at her star necklace.
"What?" Kurt shook his head. Rachel took her seat once more and raised a thoughtful eyebrow.
"You know, I think Brittany may be on to something," she added in, nodding. "We see you when you are facing the halls with a brave face, but I can tell everything is getting to you. When backs are turned, you seem to deflate - your eyes get heavy and you look like you haven't slept in days."
Brittany tapped Kurt's knee with a single finger. "It's true," she affirmed, "I've been eating carrots backwards to get better eyesight in the back of my head, and I can see everything you are trying to hide."
His face went from incredulous to stricken. Rachel, although slightly put off by Brittany's initial comment, nodded hurriedly once more in agreement. She reached out and tentatively took Kurt's hands in her small ones and squeezed sympathetically.
"I haven't a clue as to what you're talking about," Kurt said breezily, keeping his hands still in Rachel's grasp. Brittany flipped her ponytail around with a few shakes, and, seeming satisfied with it's new position, spoke again.
"My gaydar may be off, but I still have my extremely concentrated lie detecting skills," she said, "And right now, the lights and beeps are going off in my head, so I know you are lying."
Kurt shook his head and lowered his lunch completely, setting it on the floor near his feet. He crossed his arms and lowered his eyes. It felt as if he was speaking to the sleeve of his button-up. "I understand what you are saying."
"How have things been going?" Rachel asked, attempting to get a reciprocation from Kurt's motionless hands, "With everything."
Kurt pulled his arms back from Rachel and stood, moving to the front of the room and pacing in agitation and frustration. "My dad will hardly say a single word to me, as he has found out about Karofsky and this entire ordeal altogether. I feel like I don't belong in my own home."
The two girls looked on in a delusional empathy they believed to be understanding, but Kurt just seemed to rise up even more. He continued, "I've been getting plenty of sleep, but I still wake up feeling tense and on edge. And Karofsky? He will not let up, even after we've broken up! He still throws punches to me, and there's nothing I can do to get him to apologize for what's he's done."
"And," Kurt stood in the middle of the room, turning to face the girls with a mournfully acidic look in his eyes, "Dad has nearly extended a restraining order against Blaine. I haven't spoken, let alone saw, Blaine in more than a few days - and that really bites because now is the time I need him the most."
Rachel placed a hand over her heart and a heartfelt expression washed over her face, as, Kurt suspected, she imagined a similar situation between her and Finn, positively melting at the pure drama of it.
Brittany perked in her seat and she waved a single pinkie towards the door with a large grin on her face. Kurt turned to the sight of Santana strutting in the room, hips swaying and a pleased grin on her lips. She declared, "I have a solution to that problem, at least, Hummel!"
She held up her red and black phone, backlight flashing. "You can call Blaine on my phone. I grant you permission."
For a moment, Kurt didn't move. He eyed his (somewhat) friend with an distrusting eye, before the opportunity and urge became too strong and he nearly lunged forward, reaching for the phone with desperate fingers. Santana hid her phone behind her with a mischievous glint in her eye. "But," she said, "we get to listen in."
He stared at her for a minute, disbelieving but still in awe at both her nerve and her brains. For a second he hesitated, but in the end he gave in, sighing and holding a hand out for the phone with a nod. "Fine," he said.
Santana smirked devilishly and handed her phone over. Doing a quick backtrack in his mind, Kurt attempted and succeeded in remembering Blaine's phone numer. Dialing it quickly, he sat back down and suppressed a cringe as the three girls scooted closer to him.
After one ring, he waited.
After two rings, he blinked.
After three rings, he remembered it was the middle of a school day.
After four rings, he was disappointed.
After four and half rings, a voice clicked on at the other end. "Who is this?" Blaine asked uncertainly.
"It's only me," Kurt responded quickly, smile forming at the audible sigh of relief from Blaine's side. "I'm sorry about this, by the way," he continued, "but because my dad took my phone away, this was the only other way."
"It's all right. I just did not recognize the number, and it put me on guard. So who's phone is this anyway?"
"Mine," Santana piped up from her position at Kurt's shoulder. Blaine paused.
"Yeah, it's Santana's. And she, along with Rachel and Brittany, can hear every word of our conversation. You are on speakerphone."
"I assume, from your silence, that you are wondering why Kurt would let us listen in. It was not his choice; it was the proposition he and Santana made, detailing the use of her phone in exchange for the right to hear what you and Kurt were to speak about."
"Yes, thank you, Rachel," Kurt snapped, "I believe I could have explained that myself."
"Woah, calm down," Blaine laughed, "At whatever the situation, I'm glad to speak with you again."
Brittany held a hand to her heart, mouth cooing as hearts nearly blew from her mouth. Kurt ignored her and spoke once more. "Yeah, I agree. You have no idea what it's like here."
"I might if you tell me," Blaine pointed out, background noise from his end drawing to a faded close. The bottom of his black oxfords clicked against the tile, walking away from, Kurt presumed, lunch. Rachel nodded encouragingly before fixating her eyes on the phone outstretched before, staring determinedly at it like she could see Blaine through the screen.
"Well, it has become frighteningly obvious that the Glee club has taken to picking a side to be on, and no, I really have no idea about what that means. But apparently, Rachel, Brittany, Puck and Santana are on my 'side', so I'm not completely alone here. It's going better than I expected."
"That's good!" Blaine exclaimed, evident ease painting his voice. "I'm sure it'll be no time before the rest of 'em come to your side."
"The dark side," Kurt muttered, sparking a chuckle from Blaine. "But, seriously, you make it sound so easy."
Distantly thinking of his encounter with Karofsky a couple days ago, Kurt shook his head and geared up to tell Blaine. He turned and addressed the girls, "Oh, girls, I just need to speak with Blaine for uno momento, so if you don't mind..."
"Kurt, no," Santana stated firmly, "Whatever you gotta say to Blaine, you can say to us."
Briefly, Kurt's mind automatically scratched up counter-arguments and angry retaliations. Looking around at the three faces crowded against him, he closed his eyes and relished in the patient silence from Blaine's end of the phone.
he hadn't been honest during the past few months of his life, beginning at the pressured acceptance to that date; had he known that, at the time, he was not just saying yes to a date, but to months of turmoil and abuse - all for a delusional image of love - he would not have given in so easily. He knew he may never forgive himself for that.
Although he was getting back into the swing of honestly, he still had lengths to go.
And, he thought, these girls are stranding by me. I owe them the truth; I owe everyone the truth.
"Blaine." Kurt took another fleeting glance at the onlookers - at their shining eyes glinting at the realized prospect of delving into Kurt's recently hidden life, and not having to eavesdrop to find out.
He continued, "I saw Karofsky at the mall a few days ago; actually, if I remember correctly, and I do, it was a bit before dad and I sat down to talk."
Ever passionate Brittany gasped at the shreds of newly discovered information, while Rachel mimicked her, not at the news, but at the pure drama of it all.
"What did you do?" Blaine asked, if not hesitantly, than shocked, oblivious to the reactions from Kurt's end.
"I don't mean to develop an alternate version of Stockholm Syndrome, but he was sitting with his head in his hands - evidently crying..."
"Oh, don't tell me you confronted him."
"I felt bad for him! Don't get me wrong, what he did was... unforgivable, but I had one last trace of hope that he at least regretted what he had done." Kurt paused, taking a systematic breath through his noise. Blaine remained silent, encouraging him to continue with saying a thing.
"I mean, it seems like an admirable trait - having faith in someone who... who doesn't necessarily need it, or deserve it," he said, voice dropping, "I learned that there is a point when you need to realize that giving them that hope is only empowering them."
Santana pursed her lips, and waited, resting her head on Kurt's shoulder. He shrugged uncomfortably but eventually let her be. He sighed, rubbing his temple with two fingers. "He took another swing at me."
"Truthfully, I don't know what to say," Blaine muttered, "or what to do."
"Don't do anything." Kurt smiled sadly. "If I could, I'd sign a restraining order against him. I won't be going near him if I can help it. And," he added, with a hint of humor, "If he wasn't two times my size, I'd take a swing at him, too."
A sweeping air of finality slipped into the room and into the phone's connection. Kurt nodded, and though he could not see it, Blaine nodded as well. Brittany glanced sideways at the clock, jumping up and pointing at Kurt, exclaiming, "The lunch hour is almost over, and you said you would help me design a walk-in closet for Lord Tubbington before class!"
"I guess I have to go, then," Kurt said into the phone, holding up a hand to reassure Rachel, "But I don't know when I'll be able to talk to you again."
Santana, who had taken a fair share of silence, spoke up in a confused tone. "It's not like you two live in separate countries. Just sneak out and see each other; I've done it, like, millions of times."
Blaine laughed heartily from the end. "As much as I want to go with Santana's plan, I really don't want you to get in even more trouble," he said, voice dipping and rising in strained chuckles. Kurt found his own intonation doing the same - forced laughter in the face of actuality. Trouble was staring them down, and they ought to not fight back.
"I've put my dad through far too much to add this to the list, too," Kurt sighed, "It's probably for the best."
"But," Santana interrupted, "if you guys were to accidentally be online at the same time, would you talk to each other?"
"Santana," Kurt warned.
"That's all I'll say, Kurt," she defended, "I mean, you've had a lot of shit thrown at you these past few months, so don't you think that being in communication with Blaine is nothing short of reasonable?"
Kurt raised the heel of his hand to his eye, rubbing tensely. Santana smirked; she knew she had a point.
Kurt turned to her. "We'll just have to see what happens when we get there," he said, then directing his voice back to the phone in his hand, "But if that doesn't happen, I love you."
Kurt felt Blaine's smile radiate off the call. "I love you, too."
"Bye, Blaine!" Brittany called, after Rachel and Santana had bid their farewells to him as well. She crowded up to Kurt, who was placing the phone back into Santana's open palm. "Now, come on!"
She grabbed his hand and just about towed him out of the choir room and into the bare halls. His face, although initially shocked and bewildered, turned into one of masked joy. Rachel smiled from her seat.
Santana sniffed, and Rachel shifted in her seat to take a proper look at her, eyes narrowed. "I know that face, Satan. You're planning something, and I want no part of it!" Rachel all but screeched. She stood and crossed her arms defiantly.
Santana gave her a sly smile. "Good. I don't want you and your dripping voice to be a part of it, anyway."
Huffing angrily, Rachel stormed out of the room just as the lunch bell signaled the end of their eating period. Santana placed her hands on the brim of her waist, leaning her weight on one leg and grinning, gears turning spirals in her head.