Chapter 11: Blind

Kurt was nearly apoplectic by the time Sebastian finished his thinly veiled attempt at seducing his boyfriend. He glared darkly at the weasel-faced boy when he returned to their table, smirking cockily.

"So," he drawled, addressing the group but looking right at Blaine, "how did I do?"

Kurt's jaw was clenched too tight to for a quick retort, but thankfully someone else piped up first.

"Hmm, well the vocals were adequate, but you lost points on showmanship. The only way to sing The Pretenders at Karaoke is to lean in to the Scarlet Johansson of it all and wear a pink wig. As for emotional resonance, I was revolted rather than affected." I could kiss you right now, Rachel Berry.

Sebastian's smirk uncurled. "Revolted? How dare you?" he protested.

Rachel shrugged. "Perhaps your other friends are made of sterner stuff but I felt deeply uncomfortable watching you sing a song of seduction to a taken man, and in front of his boyfriend no less. Really, sir, how dare you?"

Kurt suppressed the desire to clap as Sebastian sputtered under Rachel's penetrating stare. She might be tiny, but she had an intimidating gaze when she put her mind to it. Kurt had been on the receiving end enough times to know just how powerful it was.

Glancing over at Blaine, Kurt saw him watching the exchange with wide-eyes and a furrowed brow. Kurt found his hand under the table and was comforted when Blaine immediately interlaced their fingers and gave his hand a firm squeeze.

"Is that—was that-that-that what you were t-t-trying to do, Sebastian?" Blaine finally asked in disbelief.

"N-no!" Sebastian insisted.

Rachel raised a skeptical eyebrow in response.

"Ugh, fine! I mean come on, you're too good for him, Blaine! Am I the only one that sees it? You and me, we're Alpha gays. We float in whatever circles we want, accepted because we fit in. But him—he will never fit in, Blaine! He will always be on the fringes. Is that really what you want for yourself? Why would you choose him when you could have me?"

Kurt's heart raced in anger and—much deeper down—the irrational fear, that maybe Sebastian was right.

"I-I-I-I—" Poor Blaine was so flustered he could barely get any words out. His hand gripped Kurt's tightly, damp with sweat. Kurt rubbed his thumb soothingly over his knuckles, but otherwise he wasn't sure what to do. Part of him wanted to hear Blaine stand up and defend their relationship, defend him. But he was clearly under so much stress that mostly Kurt just wanted to whisk him away somewhere safe and relaxing. He could probably think of some more children's songs to sing him.

"See, he's not even denying it!" Sebastian crowed, victoriously.

Blaine's hand squeezed his so hard that it was actually starting to become painful. Kurt could see Rachel, Sam, and Nick all ready to jump in to defend his boyfriend, but he beat them to it.

"How dare you!" he roared. "How dare you use his stuttering against him like that, you horrible slimy worm!" It was with surprise that Kurt realized he had leapt to his feet somewhere in the midst of his outburst, Blaine still clinging to his hand. "No one gets to take his words away from him like that, especially not you! He's not speaking because you've put him in such a state of distress that he can't. These are things I understand because I actually know Blaine, unlike you."

Kurt finally stopped to catch his breath. He glanced over at Blaine to see his eyes shining brightly back at him, a little tearful but full of love. He leaned over to kiss Kurt on the cheek, and then he ran off to the other side of the club.

"Is he seriously signing up for karaoke right now?" Sam asked, bemused. "Like, in the middle of a fight?

"I think this is his way of speaking his mind right now," Kurt explained. "Music is one of his best forms of expression. Just listen and you'll know what he was trying to say." The words were just as much for himself as they were for his friends.

And sure enough, when the Kurt heard the sultry opening notes of " I Only Have Eyes For You ," he knew that Blaine was speaking loud and clear.

My love must be a kind of blind love
I can't see anyone but you

Forgoing his usual over the top dancing, Blaine's performance was simple. He clutched the microphone and swayed gently, his eyes never leaving Kurt's. Rachel leaned over and whispered, "Oh my god, Kurt, this is the most romantic thing I've ever seen!"

Are the stars out tonight
I don't know if it's cloudy or bright
I only have eyes for you dear

The moon may be high
But I can't see a thing in the sky
I only have eyes for you

Kurt found himself blinking back tears as he watched Blaine's heartfelt performance. It didn't matter that Blaine hadn't uttered a word to dispute Sebastian's insulting claims; his song was the ultimate refutation.

Until now, Kurt had been bewildered by Blaine's utter lack of concern regarding Sebastian's advances. Suddenly, here, listening to this song, it all finally made sense for Kurt. He could suddenly see things the way Blaine saw them, and in Blaine's world other men throwing themselves at him barely even registered. Fireworks went off in his chest as he realized just how strong Blaine's feelings were.

You are here
And so am I

Maybe millions of people go by
But they all disappear from view
And I only have eyes for you

By the time the song ended, the feeling was more than mutual. Later, Kurt would wonder how Sebastian had reacted to Blaine's musical declaration of devotion, but he would find that he hadn't the faintest idea because in that moment he only had eyes for Blaine.

Breathless and misty-eyed, Kurt found his way into Blaine's arms. He tucked his face into Blaine's shoulder and clung to him, whispering in his ear, "I'm sorry for being jealous. I was being stupid. I love you so much, Blaine. So much."

Blaine said nothing, but rubbed soothing circles into the back of Kurt's neck, his other arm wrapped tightly around his waist. Kurt was surrounded by love and it was the safest most perfect place to be in the world.

"Hey, Dad?"

"What's up, kiddo?"

Kurt sank into the couch across from his dad, unsure how to start.

"There's something I need to tell you."

His dad's brow furrowed but otherwise he remained calm.

"Okay, I'm listening." He leaned forward, giving Kurt his full attention.

"I had...well I don't really know for sure, but...I maybe had a panic attack. In, um, in Chicago."

"You're going to have to explain what that means, kiddo."

"Oh, right, sure. I mean, I don't exactly know myself but I guess it's when you like have a big freak-out or something, like you feel...well, panic. One of our friends, uh, Sam thought that's what it was. It just, well, it felt like I couldn't breathe or something. I thought I was going to pass out, but I didn't."

Embarrassingly, his eyes began to sting with tears. This is ridiculous. It wasn't even that bad. I just...I hated feeling so out of control. He took a few deep breaths, wiping his cheeks as subtly as possible. Not subtle enough, though.

"Hey, Kurt, this really scared you, huh?"

He nodded, feeling very small. He gratefully allowed himself to be wrapped up in the flannel clad arms of his father, warm and comforting as always.

"Okay, well, do you know what we're supposed to do about this? Like, should I call the pediatrician, or…?"

Kurt shrugged. "I'm not really sure, Dad. I guess she might be able to tell us who we should be calling, so it's probably a good first step. It might be a, uh, a...therapist, though, that they want me to see. Is that...I mean, what do you think about that?" Kurt was suddenly unsure of how his dad would react to his son needing therapy.

His dad took off his hat and crushed the bill between his hands. "Kurt, son, I think that we should do whatever you need to be healthy and happy. You know, I saw a grief counselor for a while after we lost your mother. Really helped me cope with...everything."

"I didn't know that, actually. You did?"

"Yeah, kiddo, I did. I thought about taking you with me, actually, but...I dunno. I asked your teacher and she thought you were handling things okay. Maybe I made the wrong call."

"I had you. That was enough."

Kurt sat down across from Ms. Pillsbury in the guidance counselor's office.

"It's lovely to see you again, Kurt. I'm so glad that your dad called to set this appointment up for us. Why don't you tell me what's going on?"

"I, um, I think I—I'm pretty sure that I hyperventilated. And I was wondering if...if it was a panic attack."

Kurt's heart pounded furiously as he described in detail what had happened. The woozy, light-headed feeling, the sensation of drowning, and the strange tingling numbness in his fingers and lips.

"It does sound like a panic attack, Kurt. They can be quite frightening, but I do have some techniques I can try to teach you. If that isn't enough, you'll have to talk with your doctor about getting medication you can take if it happens again."

"Medication?"

"Yes, anti-anxiety medication. Ativan, Xanax, something like that."

I think I'm going to need one of those by the end of this conversation.

"So, apparently now I'm supposed to keep a paper bag in my backpack in case I have a panic attack at school!" Kurt complained at lunchtime. "A paper bag! It's the twenty-first century but the best that medical science has to offer is the same technology you bring your lunch to school in every day?" He gestured wildly toward Blaine's half-eaten sandwich, like it had personally offended him.

"D-d-d-does it work?" Blaine asked patiently.

"Supposedly. Something about blood pH levels and rebreathing. Apparently, when you hyperventilate you actually have too much oxygen. How ironic is that? I feel like I can't breathe because I have too much oxygen! So the bag makes me like have more carbon dioxide, I guess? To even things out."

"Did she sssay anything else?"

"We practiced some controlled breathing and she wants me to see her every two weeks for a while, so we can talk about my stress levels or something." Kurt shrugged. It was hard to know if any of this was going to help but if felt good to be doing something concrete.

"If you e-e-ever want to meditate with me, let me know," Blaine offered.

"You meditate?"

"Sometimes. Not as m-m-much these days, but...it hhhhelps me relax when I'm h-h-having a bad speech day. I am also —practiced in the art of controlled breathing exercises, you know, if you ever want to practice or anything."

"Hmm...I'd rather practice getting your breathing uncontrolled, if it's all the same to you," Kurt flirted, smirking at Blaine's expression of surprise and then desire.

"Oh y-y-yeah that wwwould also be fine."

"Did I tell you that Cooper was thinking of coming into town for your birthday, Blaine?" asked Mrs. Anderson as she expertly disassembled and served a roast chicken.

Blaine perked up. "No, you d-didn't. That's cool. Did he say for-for how long?"

"Oh, you know your brother. He'll probably change his mind half a dozen times and then it will be a coin toss whether or not he cancels at the last minute because an unmissable audition opportunity appeared. I'll try to persuade him to stay for at least a few days. White meat or dark, Kurt?"

"White, please. Thank you, Mrs. Anderson."

Kurt's mouth watered as he surveyed his plate. As much as he loved cooking, it was nice to enjoy a meal someone else had prepared for a change. I should ask Jasmine how she gets the skin so crispy.

Blaine's dad seemed distracted; he kept glancing over his shoulder.

"What's got your goat?" Mrs. Anderson finally asked him in a light, teasing tone.

Mr. Anderson grunted, glancing yet again over his shoulder. "For crying out loud, again?" he muttered, perhaps only to himself. Abruptly, he pushed back his seat and stood up from the table.

"Patrick?" Mrs. Anderson looked slightly scandalized by his odd behavior but he did not respond. Patrick Anderson marched out of the dining room and Kurt could faintly hear the lock turning on the front door.

"Where is he going?" Kurt whispered to Blaine but Blaine just shrugged.

"I haven't the f-foggiest."

Mrs. Anderson huffed and then stood up as well. Kurt wondered if she was going to follow him, but instead she pressed her face against the window, peering out into the darkness.

"Oh for the love of...really, this has gotten out of hand, the man is obsessed."

Kurt and Blaine exchanged confused looks.

A minute later, Kurt heard the front door open. Their curiosity outweighing their manners, Kurt, Blaine, and Mrs. Anderson all abandoned their uneaten dinner to investigate just how far off the deep end Blaine's dad had gone.

They rounded the corner and Kurt's jaw dropped in surprise. Mr. Anderson was not alone. He had dragged someone in—seemingly against their will—by the scruff of their shirt collar.

"Blaine Devon Anderson. Do you know this person?"

Eyes wide as dinner plates, Blaine gulped and nodded.


Music Notes:
I Only Have Eyes For You - The Flamingos

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A huge thank you, as always, to my beta-reader BlurglesmurfKlaine for your blind love and support for this story!