You baffle me with your awesomeness - I love your reviews, and to see the numbers for followers and those favouriting this still increasing is a pure gift!
I'm so sorry for my yet again late update, but my exam is coming up on March 1st, so I've been and still am all kinds of focused on it. But I had a quiet day today to avoid going crazy, and decided to splurge you with a brand new chapter. It's written pretty fast and not as thoroughly edited as I usually do, so please forgive me for any mistakes - I'm not native English speaking, remember.
There is mentioning of cutting in this chapter, if that's something that is an issue for you. No graphic description, just thoughts about doing it.
And as you may realize, this chapter is probably the heaviest I've ever written for this story, but I hope you'll appreciate it anyway. I don't intend to drag Victorious to a dark place, but this needed to be done.
Oh, and I'm still not up to date on Glee season 4, so please let our communication be spoiler free, thank you kind people!
Disclaimer: I don't own Glee.
Kurt is still on a Valentine high when he navigates the Navigator towards Lima for the weekend. It's the most amazing Valentine's Day he's ever had, and he thinks he'll dare to call it perfect – ironically enough, as he's always imagined a perfect Valentine's Day at least being in a relationship. But he can't but love the words and broche from Blaine, feeling it's an admission and them stepping closer to something.
He'll allow himself to grin like a madman until he's closer to Lima, but then he'll have to wipe it off his face before facing his family. He so doesn't want to talk about this with them, and he's sure his dad can read him like an open book.
Luckily, almost two hours of intensely selfish mental rambling, he's digested most of it, and has even found some more innocent topics of conversation and stories from Dalton to share. He hasn't told them about the vicious cycle of pranks, for instance.
Carole has as usual prepared a delicious dinner for the family, and they're about to dig in on the frozen yoghurt for dessert.
"Kids, Carole and I have something we'd like to discuss with you," Burt says calmly, leaning back in his chair.
"Are you pregnant?" Finn blurts out, looking sceptically at his mom. Carole laughs and shakes her head.
"No, sweetie, but good to know how you'd feel about a little sister or brother," she teases him.
"I already have a little brother," he grins, wrapping an arm around Kurt's shoulders.
"Seriously, Finn, I can't be born before you and still remain in the position as little brother," Kurt gently scolds. "Dad, what is the news?"
"Kurt," Burt says, reaching across the table to take his son's hand in his. "I love you more than life, and I hate how McKinley was for you. I'm so relieved we found Dalton. But not everybody have a place like that to take a breather. I want to do something to help other kids being bullied in school," he explains, all in one breath, and smiles warmly at his son. Carole has wrapped an arm around Burt's shoulders, and offered the other hand to Finn.
"So, are you going to be a teacher?" Kurt asks curiously.
"You're not gonna take Glee club from Mr. Schue, are you? 'Cause he helps a lot," Finn says warily.
"No," Burt laughs, "I'm not gonna work at McKinley. I was hoping to be able to do my fair share for more than just one school. That is if you're all up for it."
Kurt stares blankly at his dad, not having the faintest idea what he may be suggesting.
"Kids… What'd you think about me running for Congress?"
The initial response is encouraging, supportive, but hesitant. Neither Finn nor Kurt can really imagine what it means, in reality, to run for Congress. So Burt and Carole explain it as thorough as possible, what it'll mean for the family. The campaign work, the election system, how much work and travel is expected if Burt wins, how it'll affect the family, how they'll solve the problems, what'll happen to the garage.
"I'm 110 per cent behind Burt in this," Carole reassures the teenagers.
"I'm still not sure I understand why, though," Kurt admits after more than an hour of political conversation. He's even powered up his laptop to skim public information sites for more facts.
"Kurt, you've said it yourself. You're the only out gay kid at McKinley. The only one out. There are probably other kids there who don't dare to be themselves, no matter if they're queer as a three dollar bill or secretly collect ladybugs. I want to do something about that. I know how good that Glee club was for you, and we both now that extracurricular activities are the first to be cut when the schools struggle financially."
Burt takes a deep breath before he continues.
"You know I read up and down the anti bullying policy at Dalton. It's admirable, and it's possible because it's a private school. I'd like to see something like that in public schools to. I want to improve high schools in all of Ohio. Hell, I'll change the entire United States if given the chance," Burt grins.
"So, basically, you're running your candidature on more money to the school sector and an anti bullying agenda."
"Yeah." Burt looks him sternly in the eyes, smiling confidently.
Carole and Finn keep out of the conversation for now. This is a Hummel talk.
"You think it can work?"
"Most voters have a teenager in high school in their closest circle. And I've been digging through statistics. One out of five high schoolers is bullied."
"I want a written approval from your doctor he'll allow this with regards to your heart, and gives you the thumbs up," Kurt says sternly.
"I already anticipated this," Burt smiles fondly, presenting a folded paper from his pocket.
Kurt quickly reads it.
"Well, sign me up as campaign leader," Kurt grins, offering his hand to shake with his father.
"Oh, I think we can do better than that," Burt smiles relaxed, but jumps eagerly up from his chair and invites his son in a tender hug. The other half of the family quickly joins, and all four of them are embraced in a big huddle in the middle of the kitchen floor.
Kurt's been off for coffee with Flora again. He can't quite understand the girl. She didn't talk about anything monumental today, or the last few times they've met up. They simply chat about music, clothes, movies and other generic topics. She avoids Lana as a subject at all costs, and Kurt doesn't feel comfortable tricking anything out of her. So he just sits there, engaging in their pleasant conversation, and wondering why she's sought out him of all people as a new friend. He doesn't mind, not at all. He's just curious. Hopefully he'll find out one day. He'd be honoured to earn her trust.
While they sat in the coffee shop, it started snowing heavily, so they quickly separated to go back to their respective schools. It's not that far from the parking lot to the dormitories, but it's still enough to be drenched in big, wet snow flakes.
As requested, Kurt goes right to Blaine's room. He even left his books there before meeting Flora, so they can cram together for their upcoming history test. The boy is on the phone, however, and Kurt acts to leave, but Blaine signals for him to stay.
"A new part, Coop? That's great, tell me all about it!" he says enthusiastically, and waves with his fingers at Kurt.
Kurt peals off his soaked coat with difficulty, depositing it on a hanger in the shower cabinet to dry. He gets out of his luckily water proof boots and sits down next to Blaine in his bed, legs curled up like a pretzel.
"Wait, what, you said how many lines?" Blaine asks eagerly, and unfolds a thick blanket to cover them both. He smiles at Kurt, and runs his fingers through the boy's ruined hair, releasing quite an amount of snow from it. He shakes it off of his hand to the floor, and Kurt rolls his eyes at him, tutting disapprovingly.
"No, it's just a friend looking like a snowman exploded on him, and objecting to how I try to save him from hypothermia."
Blaine makes sure the blanket is covering Kurt from shoulders to toes, and cups his cold cheeks with his warm hands, holding the phone between his shoulder and chin. Kurt can't help but stare at him, and he's pretty sure he's making heart eyes, but is this boy for real?
"His name is Kurt," Blaine says, and then a short pause as Cooper answers. "Yeah, well, how many Kurt do you think I know?" Blaine snorts, but he's blushing. Cooper continues to talk, but Kurt can't hear anything with the phone firmly tucked between shoulder and ear. Not that he's eavesdropping, but he's sitting next to Blaine, after all. Whatever Cooper says, it makes Blaine both blush and roll his eyes.
"Break a leg when you start shooting your big movie," he eventually smiles, and hangs up.
"That was my brother telling me he's going to be a star," Blaine says, dropping his hands from Kurt's face.
Kurt instantly misses them.
"I though he already claims to be a star?"
"He's modest these days."
Blaine is a man of his words, and that's why next weekend finds him and Kurt back in the pool in his father's house in Columbus. They have time for a work out Friday late afternoon and Saturday morning, before having brunch with said father. In just a few hours their friends will be arriving for a guys' night in Blaine's swanky "bachelor pad".
Kurt is slowly making progress with the swimming, but still is hesitant to just let loose, trust the water to carry him, and relax in the swimming strokes. Blaine hasn't even showed him the frog leg-kicks yet either, but focusing on helping Kurt feeling comfortable and safe in the liquid element.
Since their last work out, Kurt's purchased a pair of quite stylish swimming shorts. It may help him gain some of the confidence he needs, but he still feels half naked, exposed, and on shaky grounds.
Blaine had asked when Kurt's deadline was, and as far as Kurt knows, it'll be sufficient if he can show Mr. Andrews he can do the laps by the end of the semester. But the sooner he can join them in the pool during PE, the better.
Ella the house keeper's made the three males turkey sandwiches with pesto, and they are eating by the posh dining table; silver ware and delicate china in place, and Kurt is beginning to think that every meal in the Anderson household requires a minimum of class and etiquette.
"So, Kurt, I've been awaiting your announcement on when I can expect to hear my son perform."
"We just got the date for our Regionals, sir," Kurt apologizes, feeling annoyed with himself for not noticing the older Anderson immediately. "It'll be in four weeks, on March 23rd."
Blaine's father checks the date on his phone, and seems to write it down in his calendar.
"I'll be back from Washington that Friday, so that's perfect timing. Email the details, and I'll be there. Unless my son has an invitation ready?" he asks, looking pointedly at Blaine.
Blaine shrinks down in his chair, busying himself with taking a big bite of his sandwich. Devon Alexander Anderson's gaze doesn't waver, and eventually Blaine has to swallow the food with some water, and address his father.
"I didn't think you'd be interested," Blaine explains slowly, trying to meet his father's eyes. "You haven't seemed so invested in my… cultural achievements."
"It would be easier to garner any interest, if I had access to any knowledge to spur it," Mr. Anderson calmly replies, and Kurt feels as if he should be somewhere else during this conversation.
"I'm sorry, father," Blaine almost whispers, ducking his head.
"Well, I'm glad we got that out in the open. So Kurt, how are you settling down at Dalton?" he asks, effectively diverting the conversation in a new direction.
"I just don't understand him," Blaine sighs, sprawled on the couch in his room.
Kurt is kind of madly fond of how Blaine lets go when he's with him. In front of anybody else, he'll sit properly, with a straight back and thoroughly thought positions of his arms and legs. But when they're alone, it's as if he lets go of his strict self-inflicted perfection, and just is.
"I really don't know your father, so it's difficult for me to pinpoint what's off…" Kurt trails off, desperately wanting to comfort his distraught looking friend, but not knowing how.
"The last time we were here, he acknowledged my sexuality and actually talked about my future in a gay context. And he still insists on wanting to see me perform. He's never done that before. Me being gay has been a non-issue, and he's focused on my academic achievements, and merely given me a semi-strict lecture about not letting extracurricular activities distract me from what matters."
Blaine sighs, and runs his hands through his hair, sinking even further down in the couch. He grabs one of the pillows, and clutches it against his stomach.
"Maybe he's just finally… trying?"
"Trying to do what? Lull me into some false security; tempt me into his good side, before blowing low? What does he want from me?"
"Maybe he just wants to be your father, Blaine," Kurt says softly, shuffling closer to the other boy. "Maybe he's trying to reach out a hand, but doesn't quite know how to do it."
"Why now? Why this? Why at all? I don't know if I trust him," Blaine exhales, slumping over and awkwardly leaning his head against Kurt's upper arm.
"I don't know, Blaine, maybe you should ask him all these questions?" Kurt suggests, not unkindly.
"Have you met my father?" Blaine scoffs.
"Yes, I actually have," Kurt comments snarkily. "And he doesn't strike me as the most homophobic guy I've ever met. He seems quite accepting of you, at least in front of me. He seems to tolerate me as well, and I tend to raise many a red flag…" Kurt says hesitantly.
Blaine instantly clutches his hand, interlacing their fingers.
"Please. Don't ever talk yourself down like that. Don't let ignorant, stupid people's opinions colour your own impression of yourself. You're amazing and you're true to yourself. Not many people have that to show for."
"And yet you let your father's seemingly good intentions block you like this…"
"It's always easier to be the giver than the recipient of good advice…"
"Don't I know it," Kurt snorts, resting his head on top of Blaine's.
They sit like that for a long time, until somebody knocks on the door. They jump apart quickly fixing their hair in the reflection of the big mirror over the couch, before Blaine opens the door. In tumble Wes, David, Nick and Jeff. The six boys spend the rest of the evening and the better part of the night singing, dancing, playing games, eating junk food, and generally having a blast. They finally fall asleep in various places. Wes and Nick are curled up in each end of the couch, Jeff on the heated floor tiles in the bathroom, and Kurt, David and Blaine in the bed.
The classroom is airily silent. 25 blazer clad boys are sitting bent over their desks, reading their next assignment for literature. Kurt still isn't quite used to the boys actually reading sincerely, carefully turning the pages and dutifully scribbling notes in their binders. Back at McKinley, a similar classroom would have proved every single high school movie-cliché true, with kids hiding comic magazines in their binders, writing love letters instead of summaries, popping gum or snoring, scribbling hearts and profanities on the desks, throwing notes or texting with their phones.
Kurt can't really say he misses it.
He misses certain people, namely every single member of New Directions. And maybe Mr. Schue and Sue Sylvester. And the choir room.
But he has a lot of good things going on at Dalton too.
He pretends to be stretching his neck, rolling his head slowly from side to side while he takes in the classroom. It isn't longer filled with merely blazer-donning boys; it's filled with friends, acquaintances, familiar faces. Wes and David are sitting in front of him. Nick is sitting next to him, and Jeff behind them – Mrs. Peterson had banned them from sitting next to each other because it interfered on their focus and concentration, and nobody saw reason to suspect it had to do with homophobia. It was merely a teacher helping the classroom to work.
Blaine is sitting in the front, closest to the door. He'd been delayed with school president-business, slipping into the room five minutes late with an apologetic smile to Mrs. Peterson, who nodded acceptingly and continued her teaching seamlessly, no traces of disruption. The interactions at Dalton were simply smooth.
So smooth, that if Kurt hadn't been craning his neck to stretch some kinks, he wouldn't have noticed the classroom door being opened, and a young woman with a serious expression beckoning for Blaine to step out. Kurt recognizes her as Miss Moore, the principal's secretary, who Blaine introduced him to at the Christmas Ball when she took attendance.
Kurt smiles at the thought of Blaine the Buzzy Bee, another pressing president matter to handle. It tugs at his heart, though, a nostalgic stab reminding him of everything he has to be grateful for. It isn't that long since he was called out of a classroom by Mr. Schue and Ms. Pillsbury to be told his dad was in the hospital.
He promises himself to make a phone call home later in the evening, before paying attention to Death of a Salesman again.
The funny thing is, when Mrs. Peterson dismisses them, Blaine still hasn't come back from class. Kurt looks questioningly at Wes and David while unlocking his phone to see if he has any texts, but nobody knows anything about Blaine.
"I guess I'll just bring his stuff back to his room," Kurt suggests. This was their last class today, so it's Kurt's best bet on where to find the boy, sooner or later.
"See you at rehearsal," Wes bids as they go their separate ways.
Kurt finds Blaine in his room. An empty suitcase lies open on his bed, and he's staring at his wardrobe, doors wide open and half of its content spread on the floor. Kurt lowers Blaine's leather book bag on his office chair, and carefully approaches the boy who doesn't seem to have noticed him yet, despite his knocking and coughing.
"Blaine?" Kurt asks, with an uneasy feeling in his stomach. He stops next to him, and lays a gentle hand on his shoulder. Blaine all but falls onto him, and Kurt hurriedly wraps his arms around the shaking boy.
"Oh Blaine…" he coos, and he really wants to tell him everything's going to be fine, but he can't promise that without knowing what's wrong. So he just holds the boy, runs a hand up and down his back, and whispers nonsensical words.
Eventually, Blaine calms down, and Kurt leads him over to his bed, sitting him down on top of the covers. There's not much space for both of them with the suitcase there, so Kurt squats down on the floor in front of Blaine, still holding his hands.
"Cooper," Blaine hiccups, and new tears fall down his cheeks.
Without thinking, Kurt quickly gets up, straddles the other boy's lap, and holds him firmly against himself. Blaine doesn't hesitate either, and wraps his arms around Kurt's waist, pressing him even closer.
"It's okay… I'm here. It's okay…" Kurt repeats like a mantra.
"I… I have to go to LA," Blaine whispers with a cry-roughed voice. "Coop… Hospital… Accident… Don't know…"
Kurt tries to hold back the gasp, but Blaine has to feel how he tenses in his arms. Memories of his own dad's hospital stay rush through his mind, and it's still difficult, even though his father is healthy and considered safe from any danger now.
He looks at the empty suitcase, knowing there are no words he can offer to solve anything for Blaine now.
"How long are you staying?" he murmurs in his ear.
"Don't know. I don't know! Kurt… Coop, he's… I don't know!"
Blaine is working himself up to hysterical, and Kurt holds him steady, not allowing him to panic like this. He continues whispering soothing nonsensicals, rocking Blaine softly back and to like a sad child.
When Blaine seems calmer, Kurt climbs off of his lap, and pulls him up from his bed.
"Go pack your toiletries," he suggests, hoping it's something easier to start with for Blaine than picking from an entire wardrobe.
Blaine sniffs, but shuffles to their bathroom, leaving the door open. Kurt can hear him rummaging through stuff, so at least he's doing something. Good.
If Blaine doesn't know how long they're staying, it would be wise to pack for four or five days, Kurt decides. If they stay any longer, they ought to be able to find somewhere to do laundry. Or they have enough money to buy a new wardrobe without blinking, Kurt sardonically thinks. He peals off his blazer, hanging it daintily over Blaine's office chair, and gets to work.
He has little to go from – he doesn't know where they'll be living or what they'll be doing. How critical is it? Should he think about… a funeral? Kurt quickly shakes his head, deciding he won't go down that path.
No, Blaine needs comfortable clothes. Kurt remembers all the time spent sitting and waiting and pacing and forcing out patience at the hospital. Regular, comfortable outfits. He picks out two pants in bright colours, so they can cheer Blaine up, and he picks out two pants in neutral colours, if the occasion demands more sober outfits. He quickly scans his options, and picks four shirts that'll go with any of the pants, and a couple of short sleeved t-shirts. Some sweater vests, neutral bowties that'll mix with most colours, plus the bowtie he knows Blaine got from Cooper for Christmas. Kurt decides to add a blazer, if for some reason he needs to dress up, but also adds a pair of sweatpants to lounge in. Oh, and the grey knitted cardigan Blaine often uses; Kurt suspects there's a comforting factor to it.
Kurt checks off his mental emergency-list, to see if he's forgotten anything. He tries not to blush or care when he grabs underwear and nightwear for Blaine, and quickly covers them with a couple of scarves. The wind on the west coast can be really harsh, he hears. A pair of extra shoes, and then Blaine should be set.
He joins Blaine in the bathroom, where the boy is still trying to pick his toiletries, and tears are slowly trickling down his cheeks.
"Oh Blaine, honey," Kurt sighs compassionately. He checks the content of Blaine's toilet bag, adds a couple of bottles, and zips it.
He takes Blaine's hand, and escorts him back to the boy's room.
"See if there's something missing," he suggests, pointing at the suitcase. Kurt feels confident all necessities and then some have been packed, but he doesn't want Blaine to feel undermined.
For the next ten minutes, Kurt packs a smaller bag to bring in the cabin. He holds up two books, asking Blaine to pick one. He does the same with DVDs and magazines, adding Blaine's options in the bag with his laptop and iPod. Oh, and the charger. Hell would be loose if Blaine forgot the charger.
Everything has been packed, and the next move is up to Blaine; Kurt's doesn't know anything about his travelling plans.
Blaine tugs at his shirt sleeve, and melts into his embrace. Kurt just holds him for Gods know how long.
Somebody knocks on the door, but Blaine doesn't acknowledge it. If anything, he curls even closer around Kurt's torso. That someone knocks again, but this time opens the door and steps in.
"Son…" a hoarse voice mutters, and Blaine gasps for air, clinging to Kurt.
Kurt meets the eyes of Mr. Anderson over Blaine's shoulder, and the man smiles sadly at him.
"It's okay, Blaine. You have to go, Cooper needs you," he whispers in his ear. "Call me, anytime. I'll always answer."
He runs his hands down Blaine's arms, finding where Blaine's hands are curled in Kurt's shirt on his lower back, and gently pries Blaine's fingers loose. Kurt takes Blaine's coat, holding it so the boy can just slip his arms into the sleeves. Blaine hasn't even changed out of uniform yet, but with Mr. Anderson here there's probably no time for that.
With shaking hands, Blaine buttons the coat, and Kurt dries his still wet tear trails with the back of his hands. Maybe it should be embarrassing or awkward to do this in front of Blaine's father, maybe Kurt should step back and tone it down. But his best friend hurts, and Kurt can't help but leap to action when someone he cares about needs him. Mr. Anderson will just have to deal.
Blaine takes his bag and suitcase, and walks defeated out of his room. He turns around once, and Kurt tries to give him his most encouraging smile.
"Thank you," the older Anderson says softly, quickly patting Kurt's shoulder before following his son.
Rehearsal isn't as it should be, with the members more focused on Blaine than anything else. Kurt hasn't told anyone but the Council, to explain Blaine's absence, but Dalton isn't a big school, and rumours started flying when someone saw him leaving school grounds with a suitcase.
Wes tries to drill the Warblers through their numbers, but it's clear that he's being more of Blaine's friend than Council member Montgomery at the moment.
In the end, they abandon rehearsal early, and head back to their rooms for homework. Kurt can't concentrate, though, and is staring at his phone, willing it to signal some kind of message from Blaine. He thinks about the three hours of time zone difference, and wonders about visiting hours at the hospital. He wonders if they've landed yet, if they've checked in at any hotel, and if Blaine knows anything more about his brother.
He flips the phone between his fingers with ease as if it was his sai swords, pondering on what to do.
Finally he groans, feeling a tad cheesy, but deciding it needs to be done to remind Blaine he's here for him. Seven letters typed, pushing send, and then all Kurt can hope for is that Blaine will truly be okay.
Courage
Kurt wakes up unusually quickly when his phone disrupts his dreams; maybe because he instantly recognizes it as Blaine's ringtone.
"Hey", he says, hoping it sounds more like a soft greeting than a yawn.
"Hi…" Blaine says, and it's almost impossible to use that short word as a barometer for his mood.
Kurt shakes his brain, trying to find a question which isn't loaded and a possible hazard, considering he knows nothing about Cooper and Blaine's current state of mind.
"Can you talk?" Blaine asks hesitantly.
"Of course," Kurt reassures him.
"I know it's past 2 AM at Dalton, but I just…"
"Always, Blaine. I'm here. Always."
"Okay. Okay, good. Thank you."
Kurt flops the pillows against the wall, and sits up, covers clutched up to his neck. They are still far from warmer spring nights, barely in the month of March.
"He's… Coop… The doctors say it can be critical, but it's too early to know for sure. So for now he is treated as if he is in critical condition." The words rush out of Blaine as if he's practiced them.
"How… What… Is he…"
Kurt can hear Blaine swallow through the line.
"He's been filming for a new movie. It's his biggest part so far, and he's been talking about it as his chance for a big break. And that stupid, pigheaded brother of mine decided to do most of the stunts himself, to prove how cooperative and versatile he is," Blaine clips, as if it's easier to be angry with his brother than mourn his accident.
"Oh… And they let him?"
"They let him," Blaine sighs. "You haven't met him, but he can be incredibly charming and persuasive, but still someone should have stopped him," Blaine says harshly, and Kurt wonders if Blaine's anger might be directed towards the crew behind the movie rather than Cooper.
"What happened?" Kurt asks carefully.
"There's apparently a scene where he's being chased, and has to jump from one roof to another. And the director wanted it shot from ground level, to see him fly the distance. And… I mean, in the movie it'll be a tall building, skyscraper or whatever," Blaine explains, sounding agitated. "But of course on set they used two platforms not more than 20 feet or something, and used this special lens to make it seem further away. They are really proud of their equipment," Blaine snaps, and Kurt wonders what thoughtless bastard was sent from the production team to explain to father and brother what happened to Cooper.
"Blaine, you have to calm down, please breathe slowly for me. Do you have any water you can drink?"
"I do. I'm sorry, I just…" It sounds as if Blaine's deflated, and Kurt can hear him drink.
"No need to apologize. I just don't want you to hurt yourself. Where are you?"
"We're in Coop's apartment. Father gave me his room, and took the couch for himself. We'll stay until… I don't know. I just… I can't do anything…" Blaine sniffs.
"You don't have to do anything but be there for Cooper, Blaine. Let your father deal with the practical stuff; he's the parent. Help him if there is something he says you can do, but otherwise focus on Coop, and on breathing calmly. Can you do that for me?"
"I… Yes. Yes, I can."
"Good," Kurt murmurs. "Do you want to tell me what happened to Cooper?"
"Umm, yeah, I'll try."
"Good. And you don't have to, stop if it's too difficult," Kurt says, even though he thinks Blaine needs to share it with someone.
"Thank you." Blaine's silent for a while, probably sorting through his thoughts and sentences. "He jumped from one platform to the other several times, I think it was nothing more than ten feet between. But he didn't manage the last jump, and fell. He landed on a concrete floor," Blaine says, sniffing.
"Oh Blaine!" Kurt exhales, choking every question about safety net, mattresses and other safety precautions.
"He… Umm, he hit his head badly, and cracked his skull. The doctors say it's a good thing, because without it his brain might have swollen worse and more liquid gathered to add pressure on the brain, I think. Kurt, I don't understand everything they're explaining," Blaine admits, sounding scared.
"It's okay, Blaine, it's okay. You can ask them again tomorrow. They're supposed to talk Human, not only Doctor, so they'll help you tomorrow. It'll be okay."
"They're keeping him in an induced coma, to give his body some rest. They… They're worried about brain damage," Blaine hiccups, and he's sobbing for real now.
"Oh honey… Blaine, you have to breathe properly, come on, listen to me. Breathe in… and out…" Kurt guides him through the motions, listening to him calming down and gaining control of his breathing back.
"That's it, Blaine, you're doing fine."
Blaine still sounds upset and sad, but he seems far away from the panic attack Kurt feared.
"The doctors said something was good – focus on that, focus on what the doctors deem positive. Did they say anything about how long you have to wait?"
"Undetermined," Blaine scoffs.
They listen to each other breathe calmly for a while.
"I'll let you get back to bed. I should try to sleep as well. Would you hate me if I admitted to still be in uniform?"
"I guess I could let it pass for now. But check your suitcase, I believe there are better options for you there," Kurt says, mixing playfulness and comfort.
"Thank you," Blaine says sincerely, with a lot of emotion in his voice. "Thank you for listening, for packing my luggage, for… Thank you for being you, and being here for me."
"Anytime. Call me if you need to talk or need a distraction, whether it's in five minutes or five hours. I'm here."
"You're amazing!"
"What can I say? Good genes and a healthy upbringing."
"Remind me to send a thank you-card to your dad, then."
The next day, Blaine sends him a couple of texts with updates throughout the day. The first comes right before lunch, but it's probably breakfast hour in LA.
No real changes over night. Maybe less bruised, but it could be wishful thinking. Blaine
The text is impersonal and to the point, and Kurt can imagine Blaine sitting on a chair by the hospital bed, trying to stay composed and avoid feeling. He wishes he could offer him a chance to speak freely, to say what he really means, to let everything out instead of harbouring it, to get a chance to crumble and allow himself to break down without feeling he's lost face. Kurt actually thinks Blaine would be able to do that in front of him now. Not with his father, and not in front of Cooper while he's in a hospital bed. But he likes to think he can be that safe option for Blaine.
Despite never having met Cooper, it's difficult to focus on classes. Cooper matters to Blaine, Blaine matters to Kurt, so it's inevitable that Cooper matters to Kurt as well.
Right before last class is over, the phone tickles against Kurt's thigh, and even though there are only seven or eight minutes left, he eases the phone out of his pocket to check. And it is Blaine.
The waiting is killing me. I feel so useless…
Kurt's eyes dart to the front of the classroom, and the teacher seems sufficiently occupied with his lecture, so Kurt quickly types out an answer under his desk.
Dad remembers sensing both my voice and presence. Talk with your brother. Sing to him, hold his hand. Read to him. Letting him know you're there is the best help you can offer. The rest is up to the doctors.
Kurt wishes he could say something more comforting, be of better help for Blaine. He kind of feels useless too.
How do you always know what to say? Thank you for calming me down. It's… Well, you know how it is to just sit and wait. May I call you later?
They are dismissed in the same moment, and Kurt makes a mental note of their homework as he runs out of the room. He's halfway to his car before he's typed out his answer.
I'll always be here for you, Blaine
Two hours later he parks his car, just in time for Friday night dinner. But no food before he's hugged his dad for the longest time.
A never-ending round of Monopoly later – which Burt wins after a legendary economic battle against Finn, Kurt is pierced in front of his vanity for his sloughing skin care regime.
His hands are covered in lotion and wipes when his phone calls and he hurriedly cleans up to answer. He's too late; Blaine's already hung up when he accepts the call. He doesn't hesitate, but calls him back immediately. He hasn't even finished connecting the phone to his hands free when Blaine answers.
"I'm so sorry, Blaine, my hands were all sticky and I had to clean up before I could pick up," Kurt frantically explains, as he places the phone far from the bottles and jars, making sure he won't soil it with anything.
"Umm… What were you doing, Kurt?" Blaine asks, sounding part shy, part amused.
"Taking care of my skin before going to bed. What did you think?"
"Just double checking," Blaine says, and Kurt can hear the slight smile in his voice. Good. Kurt makes it his mission to make Blaine laugh and think about something else than Cooper.
"So, what have you been up to today?" Blaine asks.
"Oh, bought New York Avenue, and then spent too much money on luxury taxes."
"Ouch, I hate it when that happens," Blaine hisses.
It's the third day Blaine finds himself sitting by Cooper's bed side, trying not to look at all the medical equipment and hospital gadgets. He tries to ignore the IV stuck in a blood vein on his left hand and the pulse metre clamped to his index finger of the same hand. He makes a point of sitting on Cooper's right side, holding that hand. He tries to study Cooper's closed eyes for any movement without paying attention to the tube taped to his mouth, going far down and making Blaine feel queasy. He tries to shut out the sound of the heart monitor. He looks at his pale, lifeless brother, with his face slightly less coloured and swollen today than yesterday and the day before. He tries to ignore the knowledge about the bandage on the back of Coop's head, where the skull cracked open. And he really tries to suppress all the memories flooding his mind and eyes linked to his own hospital stay more than two years ago.
Blaine really doesn't like hospitals.
He's holding Cooper's slightly cold hand, and it's clammy from Blaine's own nervous sweat. He barely registers it. Holding his brother's still hand has become a habit by now, something he does while flipping aimlessly through the pages of a random magazine he bought in the kiosk by the entrance this morning. He holds the hand while texting Kurt. He holds the hand while listening to his iPod with closed eyes, trying to relive happy memories.
Which quickly leads him to think about Kurt. And Kurt had suggested he talk or sing to Cooper.
He really hasn't got anything more to say to his brother; he's been pleading with him to be okay and wake up for the last 48 hours.
So he quickly scans his mental catalogue for some proper music. Or any song that might be slightly appropriate to sing.
Cooper has got eight years old his age, and it's always been a frenemy-tainted relationship between them; Blaine idolizing his cool big brother, but also feeling misunderstood and pushed too hard. He would be so proud and happy whenever Coop offered to teach him some new moves or practice a duet with him – their mash up of Rio and Hungry Like the Wolf had been a true neighbourhood pleaser. But even though Blaine always put his pride in impressing his brother and working hard to show how good he was, Cooper always found something to improve. Eventually it churned enough on their relationship to make Blaine resent Cooper for everything that came easily to him.
It changed, though, when Cooper woke up to a phone call from his father explaining how his baby brother was in the ER after a hate crime during a school dance. He'd been overly tender and patient with Blaine for a long time after that, almost worshipping the ground he covered when he was allowed to try the crutches. But eventually Cooper had decided Blaine was strong enough and again fit to handle his inputs on whatever Blaine decided to do in the cultural department – from his Saturday Night Fever-inspired room to his audition piece for the Warblers. Not to mention every single offer to give him private coaching before Warbler performances, for a family friendly fee.
But despite of Coop's self absorbedness, exaggerated mannerism, firm believe in his perfection, and sometimes patronizing attitude to his little brother's every attempt, he's still Blaine's brother. And Blaine loves him dearly, and admires Coop for his flawless self esteem, his ambitious drive and how he just packed up and went to LA to pursue his dreams. It's as if Coop got all the determination, confidence and positive stubbornness of the two brothers, letting Blaine deal with remaining qualities in abundance, like shyness, self-loathing and hesitance.
Maybe Blaine has somewhat idolized his brother, but they are so radically different, and Blaine is more often than not pretty uncomfortable in his own skin, and who better to look at for envy and inspiration than his opposite brother?
And it's not like Coop has been a thoroughly bad brother. They didn't necessarily play much together, with the big age difference. But sometimes Blaine was allowed to join high schooler-Coop and his friends when they took their bikes to the closest deli to buy ice cream during summer break. Coop and the guys would fool around in the parking lot with intricate dance moves which Blaine yearned to copy. And when Blaine tried, and got so dizzy he lost his ice cream on the ground, Coop would jump to action, buy him a big bag of candy, ask one of the blushing girls on the bench to please hold the bag while he helped his little brother to dance, and not give up until Blaine's eight years old legs could do something resembling what the older boys did. He now knows it was a plot to show off to the pretty girls with the short skirts. But even though Cooper put his flirting face on, he never abandoned or ignored Blaine. He'd walk him home in time for dinner, and then head out on his own for a movie or whatever kind of date he'd managed to score during the dance stunts – and when he came back home with an elastic approach to curfews, he'd sneak in to Blaine's room, and they'd watch a Disney movie together and share the rest of the candy.
Straight after high school Cooper bid them their sayonaras (literally), and took the first flight to LA. He'd still call Blaine, at least a couple of times each month, and they managed to maintain a certain bond. When Blaine came out to his parents 13 years old, he made sure to do it one of the weekends Cooper was actually home, and the big brother had hugged him dearly and held him close as Blaine cried in bed while listening to their parents fight downstairs. And a few months later, it didn't take Coop many hours to come back home to Blaine after their mother announced she had packed her things and was moving back to her parents. Their father had been devastated, and the 21 year old Coop had been a rock for a distraught Blaine who obviously blamed himself for the family falling apart like that.
They grew somewhat closer after that. With a mother leaving the States and a father drowning himself in his career, Ella and Cooper were the closest things to family Blaine had, and Ella had to double as a friend too, as Blaine was kind of accepted but not really liked in school, and didn't have any real friends. Blaine's always been shy and hesitant, and trying too hard to be someone the others would want to be with always ended up with him seeming fake and like an overachiever, and people tended to avoid him, feeling they couldn't trust him. They couldn't get close to him, he had this polite barrier around him, and it annoyed a lot of people.
When he came out, he annoyed people even more, and when he woke up in the hospital, Cooper was the first face he saw. Recovery took time, and was spent hauled up in his new, big fancy room, in the pool in the basement, or at various doctors and physiotherapists. Then, one and a half years ago, he came to Dalton, and thankfully he was instantly adopted, immediately met people who took a liking to him. He'd initially decided to stay off the radar, and just focus on surviving high school. He'd planned to stay in the closet, to cultivate an acceptable personality, and reveal as little of himself as possible.
Plans don't always come true, though.
Thankfully.
Nick was one of the first boys he met and talked with. The boy had intrigued him, with his unapologetic fuck you-attitude to everything and anybody. The boy was clearly angry, and Blaine could relate. He too was angry – but he'd taught himself to can it, to keep it in, to direct his anger on himself instead. It was fascinating to see someone being bold enough to let the anger out and demand to not being victimized or guilted for feeling upset. Blaine was also all kinds of jealous, because it was tough always having to channel the anger towards non-risky outlets. He couldn't risk explode in someone's face or draw attention to himself. So he hid it, while looking for a proper valve. He'd considered cutting, after reading a lot of failed coming out-stories online. If it was so helpful for others, maybe it'd make him feel better as well. But he never came further than to sit with the razor blade in his hand, silently asking himself if he didn't already feel enough physical pain with his bad hip, and wondering how added pain could be a relief.
So he locked the anger in, and instead constantly set himself up for failure so he had reasons to yell at himself, punish himself mentally, and push himself to do better the next time. He developed a kind of self-loathing, to avoid being angry and risk drawing attention to himself or upset anyone enough to hate him like in his old high school.
But Nick was so fearless, or careless, and demanded the right to be furious. It drew Blaine to him, and Nick didn't shy off, wasn't afraid of being approached. He'd learned to give as good as he got, and wasn't afraid of the world anymore; he was standing proud and tall with everything, daring anyone to bring it on.
Blaine needed some efforts to find out just how he could approach the boy the way he wanted, but it ended up with Nick giving him the in. One evening early in the semester, several of the boys watched Easy A in the common's room. When Brandon joined the party after pretending to bang Olive, Nick had cursed fiercely and swore that if Brandon didn't get his gay happy ending, he'd personally hunt down every single movie director in Hollywood and impatiently and impolitely explain to them how we were in the 21st century, and wasn't it about god damn time to let go of old mind sets, and stop treating gay like we didn't count, wasn't equal to any other kind of humanity? Nick had passionately and yet easily included himself in the gay community and came out to his Dalton friends just like that.
Blaine knew Nick and Jeff had hooked up shortly after that, because the school was small enough to avoid secrets, if anyone wanted privacy. And now, Nick is much calmer, Jeff managed to tame him somewhat, and they have a loving relationship based on more than quickies. Blaine likes to think he has something to do with Nick's healing too, just as a lot of the Warblers have helped Blaine heal.
After Easy A, Blaine mustered enough courage to tell Nick it was really cool what he said, and in rushed words told him he was gay too. Nick grinned, came with a graphic proposition, which Blaine blushingly and stutteringly politely declined, so they went for coffee instead. Because they wanted to be grown ups instead of stupid, insecure teenagers, in this world, and Nick said he couldn't wait to be old enough to really tell the world to piss off and do whatever he wanted instead of following other people's expectations. And drinking coffee obviously was a really grown up thing to do. So that day, Blaine drank coffee for the first time, acting a part, pretending not to be a beaten down gay teenager. And after that, the medium drip stuck with him.
They surprisingly quickly opened up to the other, sharing their stories and backgrounds. They bonded over the shared experiences, and they bonded over qualities they admired in the other. Nick was exhausted from always being so defensive, attacking before anyone could touch him, using the anger as a protection. He admired how calm and collected Blaine seemed. While Blaine was exhausted from keeping it all inside, admiring Nick for his careless moments and not letting anyone get to him. They revealed their armour, and found out that naked, they weren't that different after all. They needed an outlet, and had tried different strategies.
Jeff quickly joined their coffee dates, seeing he was the one who knew Nick's physical nakedness as well, and they were bonding in different ways. They didn't know any other out gay at Dalton, so the three of them stuck together, forming an alliance.
One day, Blaine had been gently reprimanding Nick for talking back to a teacher, which ended up with an appointment with the principal. Nick was furious because the teacher had just briefly mentioned the Columbus-branch of Queer Nation, as a local example of how ad hoc-movements and spontaneous gatherings can change policies and society in their political science-class. Blaine argued it was great how the teacher found and used that example at all, while Nick refused to be nothing more than a footnote. Blaine had said he shouldn't take everything so personally, and Nick had parried Blaine should dare to take things personally and not rise above it all like some untouchable God. Blaine had through clenched teeth hissed that he'd been touched far enough so far, thank you very much, and maybe Nick should grow up and realize nobody took a sulking teenager seriously. Nick had shot up from his chair so fast it tumbled backwards, tightening his fists, and his eyes were black when he glared at Blaine. Jeff had leaped to action, held Nick back, and reasoned that they'd both be in serious trouble if they got into a fight at Dalton, and if they really wanted to do this, they'd need to find a very private, very secret place, to continue their childish fight.
Jeff had assumed they'd cool off and move on.
Instead, they founded a secret branch of Dalton Fight Club, who wasn't secret enough to not include new members.
Between the fights, the sex and the talks, Nick became less defensive and uptight, and turned out to be a really silly boy, a faithful friend, a passionate boyfriend, but also a proud boy true to his values. The fights inspired Blaine to take up boxing. Not to gain advantages in Fight Club, but as a valid outlet for his anger, frustration, fears and surplus emotions. Being at Dalton, becoming friends with Nick and Jeff, getting other friends like Wes and David, being hijacked into the Warblers, experiencing safety, respect, admiration and friendship in a way he'd never seen before helped him completely back on his feet. Sure, he still had some hesitance in school, but he'd learned to let go with his closest friends; Kurt the latest addition to his closest circle. He'd learned manners, etiquette and politeness back home, and had cultivated those traits to be a classy, dapper, composed Dalton boy. But he could also allow himself to be a teenager when it felt safe.
Dalton and the Warblers helped him mould himself back together, and he thrived, exploring his possibilities. He joined the fencing team, just because he wanted to do something fun and take up a hobby nobody expected of him. He gained confidence with the Warblers, and after only one semester he was unanimously voted their new leader. When his junior year started, he ran for school president, surprising some of his friends with his dedication, passion and eloquence. It was all part of his upbringing, but now he decided to use it for something he wanted, not just something expected. Dalton had given him so much his first year there, and he wanted to give something back.
The world outside the gates of Dalton is his final frontier, though, his Achilles' heel, his road block. But he's working on it, for Kurt. Blaine never thought he'd find someone like him. A boy who unconsciously challenges Blaine to improve. A boy who through his share existence dares Blaine to make an effort. A boy who makes Blaine dream and hope, and realize that although he has a decent life at Dalton, he can still have a much better life in this world.
Blaine and Cooper grew further apart after the transfer to Dalton. Blaine felt safe, and didn't need the support and comfort from his older brother on the west coast as desperately as before. They both got caught up in the whirlwinds of their lives – Cooper with his auditions and acting, Blaine with being a well liked teenager enjoying high school. But when Cooper came home for the family holidays, they'd curl up in Blaine's apartmentesque room, and talk for hours, updating the other on their lives and values, ideas and dreams. They'd catch up and try to make amends for how little they were in touch between the holidays. Coop would still offer his advice free of charge, probably rightfully claiming he had more life experience than Blaine, and thus was in a superb position to educate the smaller, sorry – younger boy. Blaine no longer idolized him like he used to. Age and maturity had made him discover flaws and faults in his brother. It made him love him even more, for actually being human, but the love was now healthier and more profound.
Blaine realizes he's been whispering his thoughts out loud for a while, reminding Cooper of their childhood memories, telling him things from Dalton he probably didn't know, and most definitely exploring stories he's told him dozens of times before. Without any response from Cooper. Which isn't that odd, as his induced coma will prevent him from doing any of the things Blaine is longing to see; a twitch in a facial muscle, his fingers curling around Blaine's hand, lips sliding into a smile, a groan to let Blaine know he's rambling.
Their father has been gone for a long time now. There are paper work and insurance business to take care of, and he's probably having a talk with the film crew, threatening to sue their asses out of the industry for ever. Because that's how Devon Alexander Anderson deals. He buries himself in work and practical issues, removing himself from the person in question. When Blaine was in the hospital, his father spent the time remodelling his room and building him the pool. He never sat by his bed just to sit there; he always came with colour samplings, wanted input in decoration, or talked about practical matters, like Blaine's rehabilitation and training. Their father just didn't do emotions. While Blaine seems to be unable to do anything but emotions.
"If you ever leave me baby," he sings in a murmured voice, holding Cooper's hand firmly. "Leave some morphine at my door. 'Cause it would take a whole lot of medication, To realize what we used to have, We don't have it anymore."
Despite the doctors giving Coop pretty good prognoses for surviving, Blaine still cries. He's so afraid of losing his brother, he's petrified they'll discover permanent brain injuries, he's so afraid they'll reveal some internal damages they've overlooked.
"Cause there'll be no sunlight, If I lose you, baby. There'll be no clear skies, If I lose you, baby. Just like the clouds, My eyes will do the same, if you walk away. Everyday it will rain, rain, rain..."
"I'll never be your mother's favourite," Blaine sings, and chokes on the words, thinking about how their mom upped and moved right after Blaine came out. He knows she's still in touch with Cooper. He never talks about it, not wanting to upset Blaine, but only reassured him that the contact was one sided. If she abandoned Blaine, she abandoned the both of them, she couldn't just pick which kid to mother as if they were some trophies in a tombola she'd won.
"Your daddy can't even look me in the eye," Blaine continues to sing, but it's too difficult. He often feels like an orphan, with no parents to just love him and be there for him. Coop is the closest family he's got. And what happens if he loses him?
Lyrics from:
Bruno Mars – It Will Rain