Chapter 21 - Archives

You shouldn't be doing this Kurt

I had two voices in my head

You shouldn't be doing this

Yes you should – you want to see what he wants

As I walked down the corridor towards the library the voices became more animated

It's just curiosity – you're curious

No you're not – you're desperate

Hey!

Was it normal for this to happen? I'd heard of the angel and devil on your shoulder, but had never thought they actually existed. Or appeared to anyone.

He's gonna break your heart all over again

"No he's not." This time I spoke out loud to myself, my voice confident and sure. "You're going to walk to the room, see what he wants, and if it's not what you want, you're going to leave." Yes. That was the plan. I'd carefully orchestrated it in the hour between deciding I was going to go and setting off from Wilde towards the main building. I had taken a back route to avoid going anywhere near Wordsworth and left early so there was no way Scott would be able to ambush me, as I feared he would. This was my decision and I had to face to consequences of it.

Glancing down at my watch I saw in horror I saw I was going to be early, so hastily turned a corner and began another tour of the building. I'd also had to vehemently convince myself not to dress up for the occasion, simply staying in the clothes I had moved back in in. This had to look like it wasn't a big deal. Even if it was possibly the biggest deal that ever existed.

When the clock struck five I felt my whole body lurch, but I kept my walking pace slow and approached the library. Unsurprisingly it was fairly empty – the students not having been given any work to do yet, unless they were on honours programmes or just very keen. I walked through the room in complete silence, staring straight forward until I reached my destination. The archive room. Standing in front of the door I felt myself take a deep breath inwards – a raggedy breath that had the angel voice screaming at me to leave, to run away while I still had the chance and some dignity. I ignored it however, gradually lifting my hand up to rest against the door, feeling the grainy wood beneath my fingertips, letting it rest there for a couple of seconds, and then slowly pushing it open.

The door creaked like one from a horror movie, as the room became visible I saw the lights were off, so felt around for a switch and pressed it. They flickered on one by one but were slow to brighten, so cast an eerie dim gloom around the room.

"Blaine…?" My voice sounded frail and shaky, I cursed myself under my breath. No response from the darkened room. I went to speak again but stopped myself. This was stupid. Blaine probably wasn't even here – somebody else had forged the note and was having a good old laugh at me now – or even worse, Blaine was the one laughing. Letting out a disappointed exhale I moved to shut the door, before something in the room caught my eye. Stepping forward I squinted to adjust my eyes to the low light and looked more closely at it. It was a photo. A fairly old photo, taken way before I'd made the move from Lima to Westerville. It was in fact, a photo taken at McKinley, a photo I remembered very well. The first photo of me and Blaine. Without me even realising my hand shot out and grabbed the picture, bringing it up to my face so I could study it closely. I remembered this photo because of how stunning Blaine had looked – he hadn't even been paying full attention to the camera but the light had caught his face in the most breathtaking way imaginable and he'd posed without even trying. I of course looked horrendous – a sickening look of adoration on my face as I gazed at my new friend. Ergh. I was about to put it back down when I noticed a faint mark in the bottom corner of the photo. PTO Flipping it over I saw something had been written on the back.

I still think you look gorgeous.

Another sound broke the silence in the room as I inhaled sharply. It was Blaine's handwriting. And he had read my mind. Keeping the photo in my hand I glanced around the room, my eyes searching for somebody hiding in a corner, behind a bookcase (there were certainly plenty in here), but the room was empty. What exactly was going on?

"Blaine…?" I spoke again, even though I wasn't expecting a response, pacing slowly across to one of the bookcases, where I had spotted something stuck to a shelf. When I reached this I laughed, gently pulling down another photo. The second ever photo of Kurt and Blaine. This was again a tale of two opposites – Blaine smiling with a coffee whilst I struggled to hold my camera in the right place and get my head in a suitable position. Flipping it over I saw there was once again a scribbled comment.

I told you we should have asked one of the baristas.

Hah. Glancing to the side there was another photo, and another. Blaine had chronologically placed every photo of us together around the room and written comments on each.

You always were a better golf player than me.

How does my hair stay like that?

Ergh, disgusting.

"That's not disgusting Blaine, you look cute." Oh Gaga, I was talking to a photo. No wait – I was talking to a comment on a photo. I knew this was definitely Blaine though – nobody else would have known these things. These messages were meant for me and him only.

Progressing around the room I reached the photos at Dalton, including one from my audition, which I didn't even know existed.

Your singing was so beautiful it made me cry.

Holy crap. Now that I looked more closely, there were visible tear tracks on Blaine's face. How had I not noticed that?

The photo of us at sectionals that I'd placed on my wall had a particularly strong comment.

I love this.

The word love sending all kinds of shivers down my spine, especially in that handwriting. But it was the last photo that held the most important message.

Kurt. I know things have been rough – hey I've spent a whole three weeks wishing I was dead – even though that would defeat the point of what I'm trying to tell you. I miss you. I miss spending time with you, I miss seeing you smile, hearing you laugh. I just miss you. And I know words mean nothing without action so I wanted to prove how much you mean to me. And that I'm sorry for everything.

I stood completely still as I read the message. My breathing was even but I felt like my heart was thumping in my chest. Blaine… Blaine Blaine Blaine…

Suddenly there was a noise from a corner of the room. My head jerked up and I noticed a door I hadn't seen before slowly opening, the noise the same creaky sound I'd heard when I'd entered. The lights were still dim but I could see the familiar Dalton uniform.

"Oh." I didn't know how to respond. Blaine looked cautious, like he was afraid to proceed or do anything that might upset me. I stood there with the photo clutched to my chest, staring at him. All those weeks of separation had done nothing to dispel my feelings towards his beauty. He was breathtaking,

For a while we stood in complete silence – neither of us able to break it – both transfixed on each other. I saw Blaine's lips move to speak a couple of times but stop at the last second – eventually I had to intervene,

"This…" My response had meant to be a question, but I was unable to form it, only just managing to scan my arm around the room at all the photos. Blaine looked down at the floor embarrassed and the colouring of his cheeks almost made me gasp.

"I'm sorry if it's a bit much." Oh his voice. I hadn't heard it in so long – it was like fresh air to my lungs.

"No. It's not." Blaine looked back up and I reeled in his stare once again, Silence descended as we adjusted.

"I just…" Suddenly he stepped forward and I almost retreated in a reflex, but managed to stop myself, my feet rooted to the floor. "I feel, terrible. I've felt terrible all holiday, ever since we left-" Memories seemed to cloud his expression and the urge to reach out and smooth the lines on his forehead was nearly too much. "What I put you through, I just can't…I hate myself." Blaine stepped forward again, but it was towards the bookcase. He placed a hand on his forehead.

"And the stupid thing was – I didn't mean any of it. All the horrible things I said to you – they were the complete opposite to how I felt. I'm crazy about you Kurt, I have been almost since we met." Holy cow. This was it. This was the declaration I'd been desperate for, the words I had dreamt about for months and months. Coming from perfectly formed lips.

"And I was so caught up in protecting you and making sure you didn't get hurt by anyone else, that I ended up hurting you myself. Then I began to wonder whether it was better if I stayed away-" Without me being able to stop it a soft whimper escaped from my lips – Blaine's eyes jerked to mine and the concern he held in them knocked me senseless.

"But I can't. I can't be apart from you Kurt. I need you."

"Wh-wh-wh…" I tried to speak but my lips wouldn't move, Blaine took another step forward and willed me to find the words. "Why didn't you call?" He laughed.

"Oh I wanted to. I actually called you a couple of times from payphones but hung up as soon as you answered." So that had been the source of those calls. I'd assumed they'd been from Gabriel. "I was desperate to tell you everything, but you told me not to contact you. I didn't want to break your trust again." Another exhalation escaped from me. How was he saying these things? How was this even real? Moving slowly so he wouldn't see, I discreetly pinched the lower part of my arm, biting my lip in amazement when I felt the short sharp pain run through me.

"But now that the holidays are over…I thought I might as well try. Even if it's too late." Too late. The words ran through me – taking me back to what I'd said at the end of term. I didn't regret it at all – if I'd taken him back it would have been for the wrong reasons. We'd needed time, time to see if we really did need each other as much as we thought we did, if it was worth all the heartache. But now. Now I wanted Blaine with every fibre of my body. I needed him.

"Blaine." I said, my eyes glistening, watching him hang on my words like his life depended on it. "It's not too late."

And then I couldn't hold back any longer. Closing the space between us I ran forward and thrust myself onto him, burying my head into his neck as forcefully as I could. Blaine's arms wrapped around me and we pulled each other in tightly, to the point where we were struggling to breathe.

"Oh…Kurt…" We were both gasping but didn't let up, our bodies rocking side to side as we soaked up the feeling of our bodies together, I moved my hand up to clasp at the tips of his hair and breathed in the scent of cotton and cinnamon. Oh Gaga.

"Blaine…" I couldn't form anything coherent, just saying his name over and over again. I never wanted to let go, ever.

When Blaine did pull away I fought against him, clasping onto his blazer and letting out strangled cries, but thankfully he moved only so our faces were looking at each other, inches apart.

"I want to be with you Kurt." He said. "I want to be with you. But we need to do this right." I nodded my head, not caring what his conditions were. I would do anything. "We need to start from the beginning. No drama, no past – like we only just met. I want to take you out and hold your hand." As he spoke I felt his hand intertwine with mine and went to bury my head in his chest again, but was pulled back up.

"Kurt. This is serious. I'm going to do it right this time. And you are not going to get hurt."

"I don't care." I replied, pure joy gracing my features. "As long as you're here I don't care." Blaine pulled me close again, running his fingers through my hair and I felt the first happy tear roll down my cheek.