19th February
When I Was Your Man - Luke Conard
This is the first of two song drabbles of this song. This version is the cover, and the other, which will be uploaded later today, is based on the original (by Bruno Mars). I also need to apologise. I said that today would be the earliest I'd upload T&C. I'm not uploading that today. Check my blog at luspeak. wordpress. com for updates on my writing.
Blaine sobbed into his pillow, pulling the covers closer around him. The bed felt cold, empty. His body shook as he took in the stupid empty feeling that had a grip around his heart.
He should have done something; everything. He shouldn't be feeling like this. This, the worst feeling he'd ever encountered. Someone had bitten into his heart, leaving it bleeding against the white sheets, the missing part of his heart having been dropped on the pavement outside the house. Right under the skid marks of tyres.
He wept silently, clenching his fists together in tight balls. He could be strong. He had to. Even though he was coming to pieces, he could be-
Who was he kidding? He rolled on to his back and lay outstretched on the bed. He should have done something. He should have stopped her from leaving. He should have picked her up, or gone out to meet her. He should have put that fence around the garden like Kurt had asked him to. He should have done everything he could have done.
Kurt.
He should have remained strong at the hospital. He should have held him close. He should have kissed him silently with tears streaming down their faces. He should have tried to move from his bed in the last month more than to just go to the bathroom. This wasn't fair.
It wasn't fair on any of them.
Blaine felt a sob slip from his throat, unable to catch it. Hardened tear tracks covered his face and his eyes were sore, tired of pushing out drop after drop of useless tears. Every muscle in his body ached, but none more so than the one that used to lie in the middle of his chest.
He heard the door push open softly and glanced up. A tall, beautiful man walked in. The most beautiful. His usual neat appearance wasn't; his hair was dishevelled and dark circles outlined his tired eyes, a dull grey colour. Blaine could make out red marks falling down his neck.
"Come here," Blaine managed to whisper.
Kurt didn't need asking twice. He launched himself at the bed and both men started weeping uncontrollably, faces buried into the other's shoulder. They held each other as close as was physically possible, hands clawed in order to feel as much of the other as they could. Their legs tangled together viciously, muscles taut. They tried to melt together, to become one.
But what was the point when they used to be three?
Blaine pulled slowly out of the hug in order to kiss Kurt's neck softly. Kurt pushed him away but Blaine just returned, persistent. Kurt was too feeble to push him off a second time. "Please," he asked.
Blaine ignored him. "Why did you do it, Kurt?" He kissed the red marks softly. "I told you to cut your nails."
"I couldn't go near the nail scissors," Kurt admitted.
Blaine screwed his eyes up to avoid thinking of the unspoken floating around the room above their heads. "You should have asked me."
Kurt pushed Blaine off again. "Yeah. Right. Because you've been so talkative." His voice was bitter, and he instantly regretted it. "No, Blaine, I'm sorry, I didn't think, I'm just stressed, I'm so sorry…"
"Don't be," Blaine managed to choke out. "I deserved that." Kurt shut his eyes but said nothing. Blaine caught his hands. "Can we cut them now though? Please?"
"They're not sharp enough to do anything."
"I don't care. Those marks make me feel uncomfortable. It's like you're only a tiny distance away from breaking the skin, and I can't bear to think of that."
Kurt bent his neck and hooked his head under Blaine's chin. "I suppose," he whispered to Blaine's chest. Then he stood and went in to the bathroom. Blaine followed soon behind.
Together, they cut Kurt's fingernails so that they were no longer long enough to sharp enough for Kurt to scratch his neck. He can't remember when he started doing it. It just became something he did when he was nervous, scared or stressed. Or upset. And he was certainly that now. As soon as Blaine had finished the last finger, Kurt turned around and pressed his lips to Blaine's forcefully. He forced his tongue into his mouth. He heard Blaine's protests but couldn't pay them any mind. He needed comfort. He needed to know that he still had Blaine. He needed to feel like a family.
Blaine pushed him away.
Kurt looked at him through raw eyes. "Okay," he whispered. "It's fine." Tears stung at his eyes but he refused to let them fall. He pushed past Blaine and out of the ensuite. Blaine caught his arm.
"I'm sorry. I'm just… not ready."
Kurt nodded curtly. "I said it's fine."
Blaine sighed. "It's not though, is it? I mean, look at us." He laughed humourlessly. "Look at me." He moved his gaze away from Kurt. "I'm a wreck. You don't deserve this."
"It is understandable," Kurt reasoned.
"But look at you," Blaine retorted. "You're getting up and doing every day. You're making an effort. You're putting up with me being like this and bringing me meals and checking up on me. You're doing that for me, and what am I doing for you? You're going through exactly the same as me; why am I allowed to have stopped living and you not, eh?"
They were arguing. It happened a lot now. Whether it was verbal or physical, it was all the same. And that was just it. It wasn't the same. Before any of this happened, they hardly ever fought, and when they did it was stupid things like who left the chocolate on the worktop, or who's turn was it to do the washing, or who got to choose where they ate on their nights out. As usual, Kurt just walked away.
He was at the bedroom door by the time the phone started ringing. It was quiet at first, as if it was scared to breach the icy atmosphere. But as the phone grew louder, the ring tone became more obvious. It killed the silence and their hearts.
"It's Sophie's song," Blaine whispered. Fresh tears sprang to his eyes. His brain melted; nothing that he thought of seemed safe. It was all memories which could never be replayed. His muscles weakened and he fell to the floor, powerless to stop it.
Kurt sniffed from the other side of the room. "She used to love dancing to this with us."
Blaine sobbed, leaning against the toilet which he'd fallen next to. "Now she's dancing with another man," he whispered.
And as the listened the song playing, forgetting that someone was trying to contact them, they remembered Sophie; their gorgeous girl, the love of their lives, the girl who had gone out with her boyfriend and hadn't quite made it back…
