Chapter 13: Closer to Fine
"What's wrong with him?" Santana asked, gesturing towards Blaine. "Did someone steal the hobbit's ring or something?"
Kurt rolled his eyes.
Santana did have a point. Blaine had been uncharacteristically withdrawn in Glee club that week. Apparently, he hadn't spoken to his father since that fateful evening when he had dragged Rick by the shirt collar into their house and in doing so dragged Blaine's secret out into the light.
"He's got a lot on his mind," Kurt explained vaguely.
Santana frowned and bit her lip. "Well, let me know if there's anything I can do to help."
"I—" Kurt blinked in surprise. "Th-thank you."
"Oh you don't have to look so shocked. I am capable of being a decent human being, you know, when I feel like it. And sue me, but I've grown rather fond of Curly Joe."
Kurt strode across the choir room floor and settled himself in the chair next to his boyfriend. He reached out tentatively to take his hand, not sure if Blaine wanted comfort or space right now (it had been sort of a coin toss the past few days). His cool, soft skin felt soothing as it slipped under his fingers. Blaine squeezed his hand but his smile didn't reach his eyes.
"Hey, honey, how was Speech today?"
Blaine shrugged, not meeting Kurt's eyes. "—Hard, I-I-I guess, um…my sp-sp-speech has been shit this we-e-e-ek so…well…it was m-m-mostly —pos—positive self-t-t-talk."
Poor guy.
"I hope it helped. I, um, we don't have to talk about this now but I have, well, been wondering something."
Blaine met his eyes and managed a half smile. Kurt took that as the signal to proceed.
He rubbed his hands together nervously. Blaine had been in a rather fragile state the past few days and Kurt was having mixed success steering through the emotional minefield strewn around his boyfriend at present.
"It's just, well…it's Nick."
Blaine's eyebrows rose and his lips pursed together into a silent, "oh."
"Have you told him? About the…the car? That he was—you know—stalking you guys?"
Blaine's lips were pressed together in a thin line and he rubbed the back of his neck; a habit Kurt had noticed Blaine only did when he didn't want to talk about something. The rest of Kurt's thoughts came out in a horrible rush of word vomit that expanded to fill too much silence.
"It's just…I can understand why you wouldn't want to but I just think that he really deserves to know, you know, because, like, it affects him too. I mean, it happened to both of you after all and for all we know Rick was following him around too and…"
"—St-st-stop!" Blaine finally burst in with. "I know all that, o-o-okay? I just...I will…when I'm, uh, uh, uh, when I'm r-r-ready." Blaine let out a huff and crossed his arms over his chest.
Kurt felt his cheeks burning pink with embarrassment. I pushed too far. God, people need to cut me off sooner when I start to ramble like that.
Looking over at Blaine he thought to himself, But how long until he is ready? Kurt didn't want to outright interfere, but he figured reaching out to Nick to chat was well within his rights. They were kind of friends now.
Kurt: How are things at Dalton Young Republican's Club?
Nick: Lame. What's new in Lima?
Shit, now I have to either lie or tell him when it's not my place.
Kurt: Things have been busy. So when are we all doing karaoke again?
Nick: I was worried Sebastian would have put you off karaoke for life.
Kurt: I'm made of sterner stuff than that. Besides, I refuse to let that ferret-faced idiot ruin something as fun as karaoke for me.
Nick: I probably won't have time for karaoke but my parents have been bugging me to come down for the weekend. I put my name down for this weekend actually but they still haven't approved it yet. I'll let you guys know if I make it out! We should get the whole Scooby gang together!
Kurt: Excellent.
Kurt: You know you're Shaggy, right?
Nick: *sigh* Yeah.
—
Kurt was relieved to hear that Nick's pass had been approved at the last minute. Now he just needed to convince Blaine to talk to him when they were together.
"So, I, uh, uh…I finally talked to my, um, um, my d-d-dad," Blaine announced. They were sprawled out on the couch at Kurt's house after Friday night family dinner. Finn, Blaine, and his dad had all been watching a football game or a basketball game or something else boring. It was just the two of them now but the game was still on so Blaine could see the end. Kurt had settled himself comfortably with his head cradled in Blaine's lap and his nose buried in the latest edition of Vogue . With his magazine and Blaine's fingers working their way through his hair, it made football—or was it basketball—almost tolerable.
Kurt placed the open magazine on his chest and looked up at Blaine; he was biting his lip nervously.
"How did it go?"
"He still, um, wants me to, um, t-t-testify but I guess he-he-he listened a bit more this time to-to-to-to me, so that was…something. I hate t-t-talking to him when he's heated so it was—it was better this time…he was c-c-calmer."
"I'm glad you guys talked it out a bit more. Are you considering it?"
"I just—it's a…it's a lot to-to-to think about. I st-st-still don't want to, but-but-but maybe that's selfish. Maybe my dad…was right…and I should…face the-the hard stuff. I…I do want to be—to be b-b-brave but maybe I'm…maybe I'm just not as —brave as I—as I want to be. Sara Bareilles would be…ashamed."
"Hey," Kurt said softly, finding Blaine's hand and giving it a squeeze. "You're the bravest person I know, okay? This isn't just about being brave. It's about making the right decision for you."
Blaine stroked his hair thoughtfully for a while; Kurt could practically see the gears turning in his head.
"K-Kurt?"
"Yeah, babe?"
"You've been…awfully, um, q-quiet about this whole thing."
"I'm trying to be a good listener."
Kurt caught a smile out of the corner of his eye; most of his attention was on looking for the highway exit.
"You are, b-b-but you're also—you're the—you're one of the most opinion-n-nated people I know. So how is it that you —don't have an opinion about this?"
Kurt paused for a moment, choosing his words carefully. "I never said I didn't have an opinion. But you haven't asked for my opinion and I…" he trailed off, not sure exactly why he hadn't spoken up. He just kept remembering Blaine's face when he had argued with his father over the dinner table. "I, um, I guess it seemed like you had enough people telling you what to do and I…I didn't want to pile on."
"Oh…well that's…wow, it's j-j-just…have I m-mentioned that I love you r-recently?"
"Not since I let you have my fries and that was over an hour ago so it's really anyone's guess when the withdrawal symptoms were going to start kicking in. That was a close one."
"You're ri-ri-ridiculous! But…well, now I'm, um, I'm asking. What do-do-do-do you think I should do?"
"Honestly, my motivations are no less 'selfish' than yours. I just want you to do whatever will keep you safe and happy. If you think testifying will do that, then you should testify. If not testifying will do that, then don't."
"And you think?"
"I think your attacker was stalking you, which is seriously creepy. I thought he had moved on but now…now it doesn't really seem like it. I…agh, I really really don't want you to do anything because I said so. I really do want you to do whatever feels right for you and I'm…I'm not you, so what's right for me might not be what's right for you…" stop rambling! "…but I guess if you're asking what I would do in your position, I would probably testify. I would want justice."
Kurt realized he was holding his breath and he exhaled suddenly. He rolled his shoulders back, trying to loosen the muscles. Why is this so nerve-racking? He asked for my opinion!
Blaine let Kurt's words sink in for a few long moments and then all he said was, "Thank you for telling me."
I hope that was the right thing to say. Maybe I should have lied? Or refused to answer the question. What if he testifies because of what I said and then something happens? Then it really willbe my fault. Oh no, oh no.
"—Kurt? Honey, are you alright? You sound out of breath?"
Blaine's question pulled him out of his spiraling thoughts.
"Huh? Oh, yeah, I'm…fine. Um…what's the score anyways?"
Blaine gave him a strange look as if to say, "Since when do you care?" but all he said was, "Fifteen to twelve."
—
After wandering around the Lima Mall for a couple of hours, the "Scooby gang" was starting to lose steam. They collapsed in a heap on a pair of benches to consider their options.
"May I volunteer my house as a rally point? The parents are not expected to be home at this hour and they recently upgraded the speakers so we can watch movies in crisp surround sound."
Kurt didn't quite get Wesley. Who talks like that? But he seemed to have a good heart and that was enough for Kurt. That and Blaine loved him. And Kurt loved Blaine.
Wesley's house was…interesting. The living room was decked out in an eclectic mix of furniture styles. There were carved wooden statues on the fireplace mantle and several painted African masks hanging on the wall. This is an insane number of bookshelves . This was the room of someone who was perpetually running out of shelf space and acquiring new bookcases to house an ever-expanding collection.
"What do your parents…do exactly?"
Kurt briefly worried that his question had been impolite but Wesley gave him a relaxed smile and a chuckle. "The parental units are both professors of Anthropology. They have to teach during the week so weekends are the only time they can visit excavation sites for their research. I'm very independent so they've trusted me to be here on my own since I was nine."
There was a pause in the conversation and Kurt made meaningful eye contact with Blaine. This is your opportunity!
Before Blaine had a chance to broach the subject, something else happened.
Elaine asked Nick about school and before Kurt knew what was happening Nick was curling into himself like a pillbug, not saying anything.
Voice filled with concern, Wesley sat atop the glass coffee table across from Nick and put one hand on his shoulder, looking into his eyes. "Nicholas Nickelby, what has happened to cause you such sadness?"
"I don't want to go back," Nick whispered. "Can I just stay here, Wes?" he pleaded. Elaine's eyes turned soft with concern and she took Nick's hand.
"Now we will engage in the ritual of the group hug," Wesley declared. Nick rolled his eyes but he did not rebuff them when they all wrapped their arms around him. Kurt noticed Nick wiping away a tear when he drew back. Blaine is lucky to have such supportive friends. We both are.
"What's been going on?" Elaine asked, her voice gentle but insistent.
"I thought things were st-st-starting to get better," Blaine added. "Did David, uh, uh, uh not turn out to be—to be a good roommate?"
"N-No, it's not David. He's been great. But…he can't stop them."
"Who?"
"I don't know! That's the problem. it wasn't so bad before I just…I thought maybe someone was sneaking into my room but it was little things. My stuff wasn't where I thought I left it…but I could dismiss that as paranoia. But now…well, I keep finding these messages, all over the place. They're a lot harder to dismiss."
"Messages? Like notes? What kind of messages? What do they say, Nick?" Kurt asked, filled with worry.
Nick reached into his school-bag and pulled out several sheets of paper. His hand shook slightly, as he passed it to Wesley, who read them aloud.
Go home, Lima Loser.
Stay out of the locker rooms.
Everyone knows.
No fairies allowed.
"Where did you find these?" Kurt demanded angrily.
"That last one was, um, it was in my backpack last week. That's the part that really bothered me, you know, that they got it in there somehow. Did they break into our room? I don't think I left it lying around anywhere."
Kurt glanced over at Blaine, who looked about ready to blow. His hands were clenched so tightly that Kurt wondered if he might draw blood.
"Is it th-th-that shithead, Yates?" Blaine asked furiously.
"Maybe. I told you, I don't know." Nick shrugged helplessly.
Elaine reached out and slowly pried Blaines fingers up from where they were digging into the palms of his hands with the ease of someone who had years of experience. Blaine gave her a grateful smile.
"Please t-t-t-tell me you showed this to your —principal," Blaine pleaded.
Nick let out a dry chuckle. "Our headmaster, you mean? Yeah, I showed him. But there's nothing he can do without knowing who did it. I thought I would be safe there, you know? I guess I still am, but…I don't feel safe."
"So why not come back?" Elaine asked.
Nick sighed with resignation. "At this point, I would come back in a heartbeat but I don't think my parents would go for it. Not with him still out there."
Kurt gave Blaine a meaningful glance. It's time.
Blaine cleared his throat. Kurt took his hand, letting him draw strength from their connection.
"I—uh—sp-sp-speaking of him...s-s-s-something ha-happened this week. I just—there was this car and... well, he…it turns out—we learned that, um, he has sort of been…around."
"Around?" asked Nick, confused.
"Like-like-like at my—like hanging around out-out-outside my house and…and at school and even, once, at-at-at Kurt's house."
"What?!" Nick yelped. "Oh my god, oh my god, what? What the actual fuck? He's been—so he's just been stalking you? Oh my god, Blaine what if he had done something? What if he's here right now?"
"No, my, uh, uh, ffffather caught him…lurking outside-outside our house and, uh, uh I haven't seen Rick sssince. I think Dad put the fffear of God into him or ssssomething."
"Classic Mr. Anderson," Wesley said with a slight chuckle.
"Hang on, Wes." Kurt could see the gears turning in Elaine's head; her eyes slowly expanding to the size of dinner plates as she processed Nick's words. "Did you just say Rick? What on earth is going on?"
"Yeah, he's the…oh, wait I guess I never told you." Nick ran a hand through his hair and looked uncomfortable.
"Never told me what?" Elaine asked through gritted teeth.
"That, uh, that Rick is the one who attacked Blaine and I last year. I, uh, I…I lied about it. I was scared! And Blaine's forgiven me so could you please do me a favor and just let this one go and not give me crap about it? I don't think I can take it, not right now."
Elaine glanced at the pile of hateful notes, still sitting on the floor next to Nick and quietly responded, "Of course."
"That information is…revelatory, to say the least." Wesley squinted at them and then continued, "In light of this recent development, we have something we need to tell you."
Kurt, Blaine, and Nick looked to Elaine and Wesley expectantly.
"How is there still more bad news?" Nick asked morosely.
Elaine explained nervously. "Okay, so…something, um, happened at Bath High a few days ago but I only heard the full story yesterday. Or…at least it's what people are saying happened. Anyways, um, the girls volleyball team found this poor freshman boy in the girls' locker room after practice the other day. He had two broken ribs and…Blaine he…he…I can't say it but they wrote something on-on-on his face…it was…and they said it was some football jocks who did it and…"
Girls locker room. A word she doesn't want to say. Something clicked in Kurt's brain and he jumped in, hoping he was wrong. "He's gay, isn't he? The freshman boy who got beat up?"
"Y-yeah, Kurt, he is. I don't think he was really out but…well, I guess someone figured it out and…I wish this wasn't true but, well, everyone's saying it was him. They're saying it was Rick."
Nick clutched his stomach as if he might be sick. "Fuck…fuck, fuck, fuck."
Blaine was up on his feet, pacing furiously across the room, muttering something too quickly and quietly for Kurt to interpret. Blaine walked over to an armchair and, without warning, slammed his fist into the cushions.
"Keep it together, Anderson," warned Wesley.
"What's his name? The kid?" Kurt asked, his brain flipping into action mode.
"Trent," Elaine said, just above a whisper. "He just joined the drama club and he's really sweet. He has this adorably round baby-face, he looks even younger than a freshman."
"Is he—is he still in the hospital?" Kurt asked.
"Y-yeah, I think so. Lima Memorial, I'm pretty sure."
"That horrible excuse for a human being," Nick spat out furiously.
"This is—is-is-is all my fault," Blaine declared morosely.
"No, Blaine, it's my fault! I'm the one who lied in the first place."
"But-but-but my dad—my dad t-t-told me to go to the—to the police just days before Trent was hurt. If I had—if only I-I-I had just fucking listened to him I-I-I could have—could have prevented this. He knew something like this would ha-ha-happen! He knew it! He t-t-told me I was b-b-being selfish and he was right. My fu-fucking dad was right!"
Kurt fumbled desperately for the right words. "You couldn't have known this would happen, Blaine."
Through gritted teeth, Blaine rebuffed his meager attempt at reassurance. "I —couldn't have known that a-a-a-a violent homophobe loose on the—on the—on the streets would-would c-c-continue to c-c-c—to be violent? Really, Kurt? Are you ssssure I c-couldn't possibly have known that? Be-be-because it all seems a lit-lit-little p-painfully obvious at the—at the moment."
Blaine's words felt like a slap in the face and Kurt was struck speechless. He crossed his arms protectively across the front of his body and looked away. I said the wrong thing. Of course, I said the wrong thing. I always say the wrong thing. His heart beat furiously in his chest.
"Hey, man, don't take it out on Kurt. None of this is his fault and he's just trying to make you feel better."
"I d-d-d-don't deserve to feel better." Blaine's voice was barely above a whisper. Kurt felt himself soften immediately at those words. Oh, Blaine.
"Woah, Blaine, lighten up man. You can't be so hard on yourself; it's not healthy. Look, we made a mistake; we made a mistake, both of us. So we can sit around feeling sorry for ourselves or we can do something to try to make it right. Which would you rather do?"
Kurt regarded Nick with a new level of respect. Those were the right words.
"So what do we-we-we do first?"
—
Kurt's whole body hummed with nervous energy. Blaine—tolerant as ever—didn't make a peep about Kurt's too-tight grasp on his hand. He was incredibly grateful to have Blaine solid and reassuring by his side. God damn hospitals.
"—Hhhhello, um, we're fr-fr-fr-friends of Trent's from school. E-E-Elaine mentioned he was, um, that he was in the—in the—in the hospital and we were, well, we were, um, wwwwondering if-if-if he was awake?"
Who knew there would come a time where I was so nervous that Blaine would handle all of the talking?
Kurt silently held out the bouquet of flowers in his hands as evidence of their innocent intentions.
The boy's mother—Kurt realized he didn't even know Trent's last name—regarded the boys with suspicion. "I don't recognize either of you. Have you been over before?"
"N-n-no, ma'am. We're, um, a few years older but we're-we're in —drama club with T-Trent." Nice memory, Blaine!
"Oh, lovely! Yes, Trent simply loves drama club. He really looks up to Elaine; she's a nice girl. Can you believe I thought he had a crush on her? Well, obviously…" she gestured awkwardly as she trailed off. "He's tired but I'm sure he would appreciate a friendly face. He hasn't had any visitors yet besides family."
Kurt cleared his throat awkwardly before following the woman into the room. For a moment, he wondered how they would get rid of her but she left only moments later, saying something about visiting the cafeteria.
Lying on the hospital bed was a teenage boy with a wide, round face who looked up at them in confusion.
"Trent?" Kurt asked, hesitantly.
"You seem to have me at a disadvantage gentleman. You know my name but I haven't the faintest idea who any of you are." The boy's voice was soft and gentle, despite being slightly hoarse at the moment. He pushed a button on the side of his bed and the hospital bed motors began to whir, pulling him into a more upright position.
Blaine held both hands out in front of him, as if to show that he was unarmed. "Hi, I'm, um, —B—B—Blaine and, um, yyyyou don't know me but we, um, we have more in-in-in-in —common than you'd think. I, um, I'm ffffriends with Elaine, she can, um, v-v-vouch for us if that's n-necessary. I also, have a—have a st-st-stutter…obviously. So, sssorrry about all this." Blaine smiled in that charmingly awkward way that he had as he paused to take a few breaths.
"Hi, I'm Nick. Blaine and I used to to Bath High School with Elaine and Wesley."
Trent was starting to look slightly more relaxed, but he clearly still had his guard up.
"I'm Kurt. Kurt Hummel," he said, reaching out to shake the boy's hand. "This one's boyfriend," he added. Trent's eyebrows shot up in surprise.
"Boyfriend? You mean…"
Kurt grinned, remembering a time not so long ago when he would have had a similar reaction to encountering another member of the species.
"Yes, we're gay too."
"I'm not…" the boy started, clearly on instinct. "Well, no, you're right. I am. Heck, I even had it in sharpie on my face. The nurse's had something magical that took it right off, if you can believe it. Still, I wish they'd gotten to it before my mother arrived. Anyways…so what are you guys…doing here?"
Blaine leaned in slightly, one of his many tells that he wanted to talk so Kurt looked over at him, giving him the floor. We may never be the couple that finishes one another's sentences—because Blaine would hate that with a fiery passion—but there's hope yet that we turn into one of those disgustingly cute couples that communicates without exchanging a single word. I could be very okay with that.
"Do you, um, do you re-re-re-remember who…did this to you?" Blaine asked.
Trent's hand went to his ribs, clutching protectively at the bandages.
"Why do you want to know?" he asked cautiously, eyes cast down towards the floor.
"Be-be-because someone—be-be-because the same thing ha-ha-happened to me last year, and, um, um, I'm wwwondering if the same —person is responsible."
"You tell me yours and I'll tell you mine," Trent replied, chin jutting defiantly up.
"Fair e-enough. It was, um, Rick. Rick Holtz."
Trent gasped, which seemed to be all the confirmation that Blaine needed.
"That's what I wwwas afraid of."
"He's…he's done this before?" Trent asked in confusion. "Then how…how does he still go there?"
Blaine bit his lip and a pained expression fell over his face. "I—I—I…I…fuck…I…" Blaine looked at Kurt in panicked desperation. I hope I'm doing this whole couple-y mind-reading trick right.
"He needs a minute. It's hard for Blaine to talk sometimes when he gets really emotional. He really does want to answer you, and he will, but he might need some time or he might need to write it out instead. Or I can…I can try to explain, honey, if you want?"
Blaine shook his head, teeth clenched tight in determination. He pulled out his phone and started tapping rapidly on the buttons.
Trent seemed confused but he waited patiently, watching Blaine's flying thumbs with curiosity.
Then Blaine spoke. Or rather, his phone spoke for him. A tinny, computerized voice came from his phone, saying, "Because we never went to the police. We were scared and selfish and I'm so sorry Trent. This should never have happened to you and I don't expect you to forgive me but if there is anything I can do to make it right, then I want to help." Nick nodded his agreement to Blaine's words.
Did Blaine just decide to testify?
"Wow, I…I don't know what to say."
"Are you planning on reporting the incident to the police, Trent?" asked Kurt, turning the conversation to practicalities.
"I already did, actually. But no one saw what happened so it's my word against his. Our school doesn't have security cameras in the locker rooms—obviously—for privacy reasons so nothing is on tape. They're investigating but they didn't seem optimistic."
Blaine's thumbs began typing again. "What if you had two other people who could testify that the same person attacked them in a similar way? Would that make the case stronger?"
Trent perked up. "Yeah! I think it might! Would you do that? Both of you?" he asked, looking hopefully at Kurt and Blaine.
Kurt shook his head, quickly trying to clear up the misunderstanding. "Oh, no, I'm not—the other person was Nick. I'm just here for…moral support, I guess."
Blaine flashed him one of those private smiles he knew was just for him. He was pretty sure it meant " you are and you're doing a great job."
"I'm in," declared Nick. "This needs to stop and maybe if we get this sucker I can finally come home. What about you Blaine?"
Blaine's eyes grew wide and he looked from Nick to Trent to Kurt and then back to Trent.
"Do you want to think about it, Honey?" Kurt asked quietly. Blaine hates being put on the spot .
There was a moment of silence and then Blaine's face scrunched up in determination. "He's going —down."
—
Blaine was unusually quiet in the car as Kurt drove them back to his house. It had been a long day and both boys were worn out.
Blaine fiddled with the radio, stopping at an Indigo Girls song that was familiar to Kurt but after their ordeal of a day he listened to the lyrics with a new perspective.
I'm tryin' to tell you somethin' 'bout my life
Maybe give me insight between black and white
And the best thing you've ever done for me
Is to help me take my life less seriously
It's only life after all, yeah
Well darkness has a hunger that's insatiable
And lightness has a call that's hard to hear
I wrap my fear around me like a blanket
I sailed my ship of safety 'til I sank it
I'm crawling on your shores
Kurt glanced over at Blaine, who sang along under his breath, voice thick with emotion. He considered how easy it was to wrap yourself up in fear until you self-destructed.
Right and wrong had always seemed so definite to Kurt, even when so often he felt helpless to enact them. But maybe it was all so much more of a fuzzy mess than that. Perhaps the real trap was thinking that there was one right answer to anything or even one right place to seek out those answers.
Blaine was so convinced that he had done it wrong, but surely it wasn't so simple. Perhaps both choices had their own "rightness" and Blaine had to find his answers not from one place—like his father—but from considering many sources and perspectives.
And I went to the doctor, I went to the mountains
I looked to the children, I drank from the fountains
There's more than one answer to these questions
Pointing me in a crooked line
And the less I seek my source for some definitive
The closer I am to fine
Kurt reached a hand across the gearshift and threaded his fingers through Blaine's. Maybe I don't need to find the right words to make it all better right away. Maybe all I can hope is that things just keep getting closer to fine.
Author's Note: I hope you all enjoyed this chapter! I rewrote it just to add back in some extra Wesley weirdness that unfortunately was cut from the story when I decided to eliminate a plotline. Let me know what you thought!
Music Notes:
Closer to Fine - Indigo Girls
Thanks, as always, to my beta-reader BlurglesmurfKlaine who is simply the best!
Next time on 'Love Yourself': Blaine talks to the cops about his attack.
