Chapter 21

Reflections

Wes is long gone back to Chicago, still clueless as to what is going on when Kurt sees Elliott again.

Composure is a funny, fragile thing. But Kurt knew that before today, had learned it back at Dalton after Blaine had been gone for good, after he could be sure there would be no run ins, no chance meetings, no ounce of fate intervening, if Kurt believed in such a thing.

Kurt remembers it clear as day, all those times he had hidden away in the bathroom at lunch time, most days to cry, some days even to ... to cut. That was his worst time, his absolute low; an absolute inability to care any longer crushing him more and more every single day. He had known no one would notice his red-rimmed eyes, the red stains sometimes tainting his white dress shirt. Because there had no one been left there to know that, '... that that wasn't me.'

Kurt shudders at the memory of that time, fears with one look at Elliott that if he does not figure out soon what is wrong his friend might be headed in a similarly dark direction. So Kurt pulls Elliot out of the coffee shop they had been sitting in, along the streets and up those flights of stairs and into his home. He sits them down on his couch and wraps Elliott up in his arms, after they have both discarded their shoes. And then he just holds him tight and says softly, "Talk to me."

There is a lot of sniffling and hard swallowing, even tears, and then ... "There are reasons why I never go to see my family, despite them being just a train ride away in Jersey."

"I figured," Kurt whispers, because it's not like he does not know Elliott is always in the city.

"What do you know about Blaine's parents?"

It is not a question Kurt had expected. "Um ..., not much actually, lawyers, both. Not the most loving or understanding parents."

Elliott nods, "He doesn't like to talk to me about them either. I know they neglected him badly as a child. He once said that his brother and he don't get along because to him it is like they had Cooper and then with that they were over having to deal with children. He was the accident, he says."

"That's terrible."

"Yeah," Elliott replies. "Mine weren't like that."

"No?"

"No."

As the silence holds Kurt wonders if he should say something more, but what could he possibly say? This is so different from losing his mom, and being estranged for a while from his dad. Elliott's body putting a distance between them and his voice in his ears shake Kurt from his thoughts.

"I have an older sister, Lana. My parents weren't over raising a child after her. They never were in the raising game actually, not with her, me or our two younger sisters. With her they ... they had just gotten a taste for ... for using us."

Kurt swallows back hard, "U... using you?"

"You know how when two people hate each other so much they start poisoning everything around them?"

Kurt thinks hard, eventually whispers, "I know bullies. Like, in groups they are often the worst."

Elliott searches out Kurt's gaze, gives him a brief nod, a weak smile, he had never thought of it that way, "Yes, something like that, only ... ."

"Only ...?"

"Only now imagine those bullies not hating on you alone but hating each other and you and probably also themselves. Imagine how toxic an environment they create. Now imagine you have to grow up in that. In ... in that house where they not only bully you for who you are for who you are trying to figure out you might be able to be, constantly mocking you ... for trying, laughing at you for failing at something that eight year olds happen to fail at every day, and need encouragement to learn. Where they use you to provoke and get back at each other, "Look at that stupid faggot of your son, doesn't even know how to do his fucking homework. But what else to expect with a father like that." "Who refused to quit drinking in order to be able to breast feed? If your fucking son would have had your fucking tits in his face once in a while he might not have become this farce of a man." Stuff like that."

Kurt just sits there looking wide eyed at Elliott.

Elliott's gaze falls from Kurt's then, and the silent tears begin to trickle.

As Kurt's hand reaches out and takes hold of Elliott's a single sob breaks free. And a flood of words follows. "My parents were my worst bullies, all my life. The intolerant assholes at school I could escape every day, but I had nowhere to go when I did. Nowhere better anyway. There were so many months that I just stayed hours and hours after my last class. It was the lesser hell."

"And Blaine does not get it at all?"

"I ..., it started when Blaine came to pick me up from work at the coffee shop one day and there was this couple fighting, shouting at each other, the women a small baby strapped to her chest and another kid on her arm. And I just couldn't take it. I was out of there in a rush and when Blaine caught up with me ..., I didn't know what to say. You know when a baby cries, for food, or sleep or fresh clothing, it never sounds a fraction as horrible as when grown men and women scream at each other, with a baby there is no malice there, no intention to hurt, and ... and somehow with adults that is all there is, wanting to hurt someone, inflicting pain ... on purpose." Elliott breaks down crying then, and Kurt scoots closer, wraps him up in his arms again, "I ...," Elliott sobs, "I just ..., I can't take that anymore."

"And you need someone to understand," Kurt says soothingly.

"I need," Elliott is still sobbing, "I need the one person I love more than anything to understand. I need him to understand why I cannot get into fights with him about all the stupid little things and come out the other side unharmed, although I know rationally I should. I can't. I need him to know how big a deal it is to me when someone so much as raises their voice to me. I can deal with it being strangers, but not him, not ... I cannot love that way, that aggressive all out way. It hurts too much."

"You can't be part of one of those fighting couples, who get into it every stupid little chance they get," Kurt says nodding. "I couldn't either. I get it."

"Blaine doesn't. He ... we are not ... I don't think we will work out, and I hate to say this, because, gosh, I love that Hippie SO MUCH. But ..., I could deal with him feeling insecure and unsure about things. I could be nurturing in that way, I guess. But ... lately he ... he gets so angry more and more often. And I don't have it in me to hold against that. If I can't make him happy, keep him happy by being me," another sob, "I can't stay around and turn into my parents, living to hate not to love each other."

"You don't have to." And that is the only thing Kurt says, because it is the only thing that needs saying.

Elliott spends that night at Kurt's place, in the safety of the arms of a friend who does not expect anything from him but to be allowed to spend comfort.

And Elliott sleeps like a stone in Kurt's arms, once he is all cried out, while Kurt lies awake for many more hours, thinking too hard.

He wakes up with a headache the next late morning and his arms still full of the other young man.