A/N: I tried to stay away, but of course as soon as I had decided to put this story on ice all I could think of anymore was writing it, and I realized all over how substantial creative writing is to my mental well-being. From now on there will be at least monthly updates on the 17th of each month. My dream is to have this story completed latest by the end of January 2014 and to then move on to finish Tears Stained (in case you are reading that too).
I hope this chapter does not feel insensitive in any way, I wrote it a long time ago now, we are talking months, and there is some Finn in here, so if you don't feel ready to read it I completely understand.
M
Getting Away
29: Keen Senses
Kurt finds Blaine sitting curled up on himself at the foot of the bed.
Blaine is hugging a big pillow tightly to his chest and smiling with relief when Kurt's eyes meet his.
"Hey," Blaine says weakly.
"Hey. Baby, you had me scared there for a moment."
"Even though I don't run anymore?" Blaine tries to smile with eyes, voice and lips.
"Even though you don't just run anymore," Kurt confirms, eyes warm but gaze serious. "Come back here, Baby," Kurt says softly, holding his arms wide open.
As Blaine does crawl back up the bed and allows Kurt to hug him close once more Blaine hears Kurt ask, "Why were you at the foot of the bed?"
"Needed to think, is all" Blaine whispers shyly.
And when he does Kurt knows now is not the time to push. So he simply hums warmly and starts peppering Blaine's shoulder, neck, then face with kisses until he, reaching Blaine's lips, can feel him smiling against his own. "Ready for breakfast?"
Blaine nods, they each pull on a shirt and make, still wearing their pajama pants, their way downstairs.
Finn is the only one too in the kitchen when they get there. He grunts a greeting at them through his mouth still stuffed with cereal.
They grab some fruit and oatmeal, pour some juice and water for the two of them, and then make their way into the backyard. It has become their little tradition, the last weeks, picnic blanket and Kurt's favorite quilt easily at hand every morning, always now to be found in a corner of the living room to just pick up when they pass by, breakfast in the backyard, lunch too sometimes, the fresh air easing the way into a new day, wanting to be braved; that is how the boys feel, anyway.
The cool fresh air is definitely helping Blaine to get his head clearer, he feels, and had once even confessed so to Kurt, adding "… and, especially, to get it clear again, after … after one of the worse nights, … nightmares." Kurt had cuddled closer in understanding, filling the silence between the two of them with warm touches instead of empty feeling, trite words.
Sometimes they don't talk at all, for hours and hours, long until after lunch.
Those hours can be the most torturous to Kurt of all the days, especially when they have not woken up cuddling happily, Kurt having been ripped instead from his sleep by Blaine shaking in his arms.
The feeling of utter helplessness some days it is the hardest on Kurt.
When the breakfast foods and drinks are gone, they just lie with each other, cuddled up on a blanket, under the quilt.
Kurt is about to doze off, when he hears Blaine say quietly into his chest, "How would we do that? Look for her."
Kurt takes a deep breath and – running his left hand up and down Blaine's back, his right finding Blaine's, and tangling their fingers comfortingly – says, "Have you ever looked for her before?"
Kurt can feel Blaine shaking his head, hears a whispered, all too guilty sounding "No," fall from Blaine's lips.
"I was thinking we could try and find her on the internet, or someone who knows or at least knew her at some point. How does that sound?"
Kurt's left hand is still moving when he feels Blaine squeezing Kurt's hand tangled with his extra tight as the words leave his mouth after a shaky breath, "Yeah. I want to, let us try."
The next afternoon Blaine spends immersed in his drawing, Kurt, making sure Carole is already home, makes his way into his old school.
It is strange how much more this feels like spying, how much more Kurt feels out of place here right now than he ever had in the hallways of Dalton.
It is when he takes the last corner into the corridor that holds the door leading to the room and he hopes the person he has been looking for, when he catches sight of the one person he most certainly feels he can live without ever having to run into again this unsuspected.
Kurt knows it is a phantom pain, nothing more, it hurts nonetheless as if the metal of a locker door is anew, right in this second, digging into the skin, the now scar, under his left shoulder blade, once so brutally ripped, bone underneath bruised, parts of Kurt, much deeper, still aching from it today.
It is a whisper, already pressed back with Kurt's next breath, "Karofsky."
But just as fast as the jock had entered Kurt's field of vision he has left it, Kurt spared more than the sight of the back of Dave's head today.
Kurt leans against the wall, eyes closing for a moment, breathing shaken evening out again.
Two minutes later, Kurt's steps are still shaky, his hand trembling annoyingly much as he reaches for the door handle, and pushes it down.
"Listen Puckerman, I told you not to ever interrupt my work in here."
"Hi, … Lauren."
"Hummel?" Lauren turns around, eyes wide as she finds Kurt actually standing in the door to the school's media room. "What's up? Puckerman said you weren't ever coming back. Looked like a kicked puppy too saying it. I'd to hold him a whole afternoon while he cried his heart out, the weekend you transferred, mumbling something about juvie and failing you. So, what's up?"
Kurt smiles to himself, he had always liked how down to business Lauren tends to be, private matters staying just that, private, but even she has obviously missed him a bit if she is trying this hard to make Kurt feel welcome, oh yeah, this is Lauren trying … real hard. "I need your expertise."
"Okay? Which parts of my vast array of knowledge do you require, Hummel? And more importantly, what are you willing to pay for it?"
"I can pay you 20 Mars bars, and two big bags of Skittles. I got them right here with me," Kurt pads his backpacked stuffed to them brim with the sugary treats.
"Deal. And what do you need?"
Kurt takes a deep breath, then says, "I need to know which sides best to use to find someone."
"Stalking a crush are we?"
"Now you sound like Santana, and no, I am not. A friend is looking for a long lost family member, and I am trying to help. I won't say any more, so don't bother asking again."
"Okay, okay. So, to maximize your chances of …," Lauren stops dead. "Payment first."
Kurt rolls his eyes but is quick to unpack the sweats onto the table, scattered with old videotapes and some cds and dvds.
Lauren, grinning already in excitement goes on, while opening up her laptop and googleing the first page, "Okay, so …."
Kurt spends a good two hours and twenty-three minutes in that room, but leaves it much more confident and informed than he went in, and with a stack of notes and an even more informative recent browser history on his laptop - leaving, too, an already happily on her third mars bar munching Lauren behind.
He cannot help looking over his shoulder with every other step he takes until he is back, safely, in his car.
Kurt closes his eyes and breathes deep for the first time since, it feels, he had entered the all too eerily familiar building.
The harsh knock on his window a moment later rips him from his just about tranquil turning thoughts harshly.
"Finn!" Kurt breathes out, heart still racing.
"Dude, what are you doing here? If Karofsky …."
"I'm fine," Kurt assures smiling softly, as Finn slips into the passanger seat.
"Can you give me a ride home? Rachel offered to, yesterday, but then …."
"You two got into a fight today?" Kurt asks knowingly, it happens after all, all the time.
"Something like that. So, you taking me?"
"Sure," Kurt smiles, already starting the car.
Kurt does not see the boy in the letterman jacket walking down the stairs of the main building, frowning with sadness in his eyes as he catches a glimpse of the boy behind the steering wheel.
