A/N: Hello and welcome back! I really like this chapter, I feel like we really learn more about Blaine and some secrets are revealed. I'll keep it short and sweet, so thank you for coming back and Enjoy!
Disclaimer: I do not own Glee.
Chapter 8
The rest of the weekend had passed in a slow but easy way. Almost like molasses. Whatever had almost happened at the bar wasn't really discussed and Kurt had to imagine that was only for the better. Whatever he might be feeling for Blaine, he didn't have the luxury of time to explore. Or the bandwidth. Teaching at the school only took up a few hours of his Monday through Friday, but those twice a week visits to his physical therapist seemed to be ramping up. He'd been at it for a few weeks now and it was like the kid gloves had been taken off.
His physical therapist was a kind, gentle, compassionate man. But no measure of understanding eyes and encouraging "Come on, you got this!" could quell the strain Kurt was under. He went to these P.T. sessions with determination. He was going to put his life back together, piece by piece, no matter how much it hurt. And fuck, it hurt a lot.
Monday swept him off his feet. And not in a rom-com sort of way. More of a baseball bat to the back of the knees sort of way. He hobbled out to his car after his session. Usually, the pain would set in gradually after his appointments, but today it just couldn't wait.
Kurt drove, almost on autopilot back to Blaine's. He didn't want Darla to come home and find him unable to scale the stairs to his room. But when he pulled up, he noticed the garage was closed, meaning Blaine wasn't home. If Blaine was home he always, always had the garage door open, insisting it got too stuffy if he didn't. How letting the humid air circulate through every crevice of the loft helped, Kurt wasn't sure but Blaine insisted. Must be out at one of his mystery jobs, Kurt thought. Kurt knew Blaine had other jobs he was working on, but whenever he asked about them, Blaine had always been a little vague. And to be honest, Kurt didn't understand even a sliver of the construction terms Blaine used, so maybe it was for the best.
As Kurt prepared to back right out of the driveway, he saw a flash of butter yellow and recognized Blanche, sitting on the front porch waving him in. White hair pulled back in an elegant bun and a pale yellow dress that stopped mid calf, she looked the picture of a southern belle. A little puzzled, Kurt waved back and left the car in park, shutting it off and stepping out.
As lovely as Blanche had been upon their first meeting, there really hadn't been much more interaction between her and Kurt. She was a beloved cornerstone in the community and stayed very involved, whether it be running the weekly bingo nights at the church or having lunch with "the ladies" as Blaine called them. She seemed to be a social creature who hadn't slowed down as the years wore on.
With a bit of a bite in his step, Kurt swallowed the pain and cautiously approached the front porch. "Good afternoon, Ms. Blanche!" Kurt called, wincing a bit at the Ms. he'd impulsively added to her name. She's Blaine's grandma, not a kindergarten teacher!
Blanche laughed softly, a crackly sound that was somehow still strong. "Afternoon, Mr. Hummel! Care to join me for a little iced tea? Blaine should be home shortly, I presume that's why you stopped by." It wasn't a question.
"That would be nice, thank you." Kurt agreed, very nearly falling into the chair beside her, separated by a small outdoor end table.
Blanche merely smiled and disappeared through the creaking screen door to fetch him a glass. It seemed like every single house here in town had a creaky screen door. Kurt wondered if they came with that rustic screech or if they'd all earned them after years of kids hurriedly pushing them open to escape to the summer sun.
His eyes focused once a cold, already dripping glass of tea was suspended in front of him. Gripping the glass, his eyes followed from the hand offering it to him, up a slender arm to the gorgeous face looking at him with a soft smile. He nodded and smiled back.
They sat in companionable silence for a moment, Kurt taking in the view from the front porch. He'd never spent much time in the main house. All of his hours spent in Blaine's garage, in the loft, the driveway in the rain.
"So how are you enjoying your summer here in Cassville, Mr. Hummel?" Blanche asked, breaking the silence. The formality of her address didn't seem formal at all, just the product of good breeding and southern charm.
Kurt nodded, swallowing his sip. "It's been very good. Very...unexpected." He answered honestly.
"Oh?" she quirked an eyebrow.
"Yeah. I think I thought I'd spend all summer teaching and in uh...in physical therapy," he shot a glance over to the older woman, seeing her nod in acknowledgement, once again glad that everyone already knew his story in this tiny town. "And that's it. I thought that would be all I did. But...I was wrong. I've been swimming and hanging out and just, I don't know, having fun I guess." His answer sounded lame and so unpolished next to Blanche's classiness.
But Blanche nodded, like his answer hadn't been a barely coherent stream of thought that still somehow missed what Kurt wanted to say. "Because of Blaine." Blanche said. And that's what Kurt had wanted to say.
Kurt nodded, not trusting his voice to not break. He studied the ice cubes rapidly disappearing in his drink.
"Blaine has been different this summer." Blanche said, looking out over the lawn. "Because of you." She swung her sparkling gaze to rest on Kurt, a pleased smile stretching her lips.
Kurt merely met her gaze and blinked, not sure what his expression was like.
Blanche continued. "He hasn't gone swimming in years. He hasn't gone out in years. Don't get me wrong, he has plenty of acquaintances and the whole town just adores him and he them but…" she trailed off. Kurt followed her gaze to find Blaine's truck pulling in the driveway, his window down and pulling his curls into unforgivable chaos. "He doesn't leave the door open for any of them like he does you."
Kurt looked at her, so sharply that he thought his neck would snap. "Leave the door open?" He asked.
Blanche just laughed, waving at the approaching Blaine. "The garage," she said out of the side of her mouth, "his heart," she added, a lilt in her voice. "He's wide open, literally and figuratively." Her tone implied the end of their conversation as Blaine bounced up the step, eyes planted on Kurt. But her tone also implied a mirrored second half. He's wide open. Are you?
"Hey Hummel," Blaine said.
"Good to see you too," Blanche said with a dainty scoff and a gleam in her eye.
Blaine just rolled his and said in an over exaggerated voice, "Hi grandmother."
"Well, I'll leave you to it." Blanche said, lifting herself from her chair and grabbing Kurt's empty glass. As she passed him on her way in, he felt her papery hand grip his shoulder with surprising surety and strength. A brief squeeze. And then she was gone, the screen door squeaking.
Kurt looked up at Blaine, raising up to walk with him to the garage. However, only a few steps in and Blaine seemed to sense Kurt's throbbing pain, the way his legs didn't raise up quite enough to make walking look easy.
"Come on," Blaine said, as they made it down the last step and started crossing the lawn to the loft. "Let me help you," and Blaine looped his arm around Kurt's back, under his arms. And Kurt, despite all of his dogged determination to fix this on his own, leaned into Blaine, letting him ease the strain.
Tuesday, Kurt finally found himself exploring downtown for the first time since arriving in Cassville. Blaine had insisted they get ice cream, and as much as Kurt was beginning to worry what all of this sweet tea was doing to his waistline, he just couldn't turn Blaine down when he busted out the puppy dog eyes. It was a dirty, but effective tactic that Blaine used entirely too much.
"Hey there baby Blaine! Kurt!" A deep voice bellowed as they made their way down Main Street. Doug, the pharmacy owner, was waving at them from the front stoop of his store, sweeping just like he'd been when Kurt met him.
"Hi Doug!" Blaine said, walking up to give him a firm handshake that Kurt mimicked.
"What are you boys up to? Staying out of trouble?" Doug asked, smile on his jovial round face.
Kurt scoffed, "I've said it once and I'll say it again, I don't know what kind of trouble there is to get into out here."
"Ah, well I see baby Blaine has been a good influence then." Doug replied with a wink.
"Baby Blaine has been a wonderful tour guide of the local attractions."
"Shut it, Hummel," Blaine shot back at Kurt, voice filled with a fake mirth that was betrayed by the shine in his eyes. He turned back to a grinning Doug, "However, as tour guide, I am now on my way to introduce him to Anna's Ice Cream shop."
Doug groaned, a happy sound, "Man, you're in for a treat," He said to Kurt. "Well, don't let me keep you! Go get that ice cream; Lord knows it's hot enough." As if to emphasize his point, Doug produced a handkerchief from his back pocket and wiped at the sweat beading on his brow.
They moved past Doug and, much like Kurt's initial tour by Darla, it seemed every few feet, someone was calling out a hello or asking how they were doing. Except, this time? Kurt was actually surprised how many people he knew. He'd seen them around at the General Store, picking up things for dinner with Darla, or their kid went to the dance school. Without even realizing it, Kurt had started to become a part of the community. A warm feeling, separate from the 90 degree heat filled him.
They finally strolled up to Anna's Ice Cream a half hour later, so delayed by all of their impromptu conversations and check-ins with the townsfolk.
The strawberry ice cream cone for Kurt and chocolate for Blaine had come free, as Anna had just winked at Blaine and said it was on the house. Kurt swore he saw Blaine blush, ever so slightly as he thanked her and handed Kurt his cone.
They walked lazily down the sidewalk, licking their ice cream and immersed in a comfortable silence. They walked all the way back to Blanche's and when Kurt's legs started to protest, he didn't even have to say anything. He just felt Blaine step closer, a hand settled on his back, guiding him home.
"Maybe I'm pushing you a little too much, ya know? Walking all over town, swimming-"
"Swimming is actually a form of physical therapy, so I doubt that's what's causing me to hurt-"
"But still! You just said it, you're hurting...and. I don't know, maybe I'm not helping with that." Blaine said, feet dangling off the tailgate as they sat in the back of his truck, eating their lunch. Kurt's classes had finished up for the day, like normal, but his back and legs were screaming at him.
He'd been unable to hide his limp as he walked out of his last class. Darla, with her eagle eyes, immediately descended on him at the front desk, worrying over him and asking a billion questions, eyes wide and concerned. Then the mom's in the lobby had caught on and were soon not even pretending they hadn't been eavesdropping. They were crowding the front desk, rubbing his back and offering up family remedies for pain.
When Blaine emerged from the hallway a few minutes later, he'd taken one look at Kurt, trapped by half the town and called out loudly, "Hummel! Ready for lunch?"
Kurt had nodded emphatically, looking like the shocks had gone out in his neck, but the crowd had only tightened around him, seemingly not ready to turn away from their new favorite local.
Blaine had signed, slung his bag over his shoulder and cut through the crowd like he was at a concert and dead set on being in the front row. Blaine's muscular arm had shot out, wrapped around Kurt's back, under his arms and damn near lifted him to his feet. Kurt gasped in shock, as did the surrounding ladies, but he allowed Blaine to basically carry him from the school.
Kurt barely registered the women swooning all around him as he whispered to Blaine sarcastically, "Oh my hero,"
Blaine smiled a lopsided smile and said, "Damn straight."
So here they sat, baking in the sun as the heat made dreamy waves come off the concrete parking lot, sandwiches half eaten and feet dangling.
"Trust me," Kurt said, reaching out a hand to rest on Blaine's leg. "You're helping me."
Blaine gave him a long look, really searching for the truth in his eyes. Whatever he found seemed to appease him enough to give Kurt's hand a quick squeeze and say. "Okay, I'll trust you."
It was then that Kurt removed his hand from Blaine's thigh and found the glass front of the school packed with faces of the dance moms. Those little spies! Kurt thought. But externally, he'd just chuckled and bumped Blaine's shoulder with his own. "Looks like we have a fan club."
Blaine looked up to see the moms staring at the pair without even a hint of secrecy. Blaine threw back his head and laughed, a beautiful sound that made Kurt's heart flutter. "Oh man, yeah I uh...I should have seen that coming."
"Oh, you mean after you swept me off my feet back in there?" Kurt said, meaning it literally and maybe not saying that it was a bit figurative too.
"I mean since you showed up here in town?" Blaine said easily, taking the last bite of his sandwich and leaning back on his hands.
Kurt quirked a brow, "What does that mean?"
"Just that...I don't know, a hot gay guy moved to town and I'm…" Blaine trailed off, color rising to his cheeks, Kurt was sure of it this time. And while he was still reeling from the casual title of hot gay guy that had fallen from Blaine's lips, it emboldened him to finish Blaine's sentence.
"-A hot gay guy."
Blaine's head snapped up from where he'd been looking down and a little troublemaker smile sprouted on his face. "Sure, I think...I don't know, I think people thought maybe something would...happen?" He said it very cautiously, and it was the first time since the night of the gay bar, where they'd laid in this very truck bed and Blaine had called him a heartbreaker, that Kurt thought Blaine was addressing whatever wasn't happening between them.
Kurt nodded, willing his body to stay put and his mouth to choose his next words carefully. "Isn't that sort of...frustrating? Like, just because you're gay and I'm gay doesn't mean that we'd just jump each others bones." He saw Blaine swallow thickly and he ignored it. "Is it annoying that they assume that to you?"
Blaine shook his head. "No. It's not that they so much assumed as...hoped. I think?" Blaine shifted to sit up straight so his fingers could busy themselves with fiddling in his lap. He stared at them as he spoke, "It's a little lonely here. In...that regard."
Kurt nodded, knowing the feeling. Growing up in Ohio, he'd sometimes felt like the only gay kid on the planet. It had been isolating and miserable. And yes, very lonely.
As Kurt was about to say that he wasn't alone anymore, he bit his tongue. Because the same thing that had prevented a kiss, prevented so much between them, was preventing that sentence from being spoken out loud. At the end of the summer, Kurt wouldn't be here anymore and Blaine would be alone again.
And so will I. Kurt thought suddenly.
So he just reached out and placed his hand on Blaine's leg again, spying dance moms be damned.
Thursdays and Mondays were the hardest days for Kurt because he had to leave the dance school straight after his classes to get to his physical therapy sessions. This had only become more of a pain now that that time was supposed to be reserved for lunches with Blaine. And with Blaine's job at the school finishing up and only final touches remaining, he really hated that he'd found himself flying down the road toward an evil therapist who would make his spine scream.
Okay, so the therapist wasn't evil. Far from it actually. He was kind and understanding and seemed to possess an unnatural amount of patience. And on Kurt's harder days, oh Lord, did he need it. But it didn't make Kurt hate him any less when he swore his legs were about to just jump ship and fall off completely after one of their appointments.
Today was one of those days. This Thursday was taking the cake as the roughest therapy session he'd had thus far. Really, it was probably a bit of a culmination of the entire day bearing down on him. He had woken up late, having stayed too late at Blaine's the night before as his curly headed friend had attempted to teach him to play Gin Rummy. So he showed up just in time to greet the first kids. The kids had been roudier than normal, going on and on about the town's Fourth of July party coming up in the next week and a half. They were going to be performing a little number and while Kurt understood their excitement, he had to remind them several times that he couldn't actually teach them the dance if they didn't stop talking about the dance.
Then, Blaine had rolled in all lean muscles and unkempt curls and a coffee in hand, just how Kurt liked it and that was frustrating for obvious reasons. Because he knew, he knew that Blaine felt the heat between their fingers when he passed him the coffee. And he knew, he knew there wasn't a goddamn thing they could do about it without someone's feelings getting hurt down the line.
And on top of that, he hadn't even been able to shoot the shit with Blaine before leaving for his appointment. Instead, he'd searched the one hall in the entire building, like he was expecting Blaine to just materialize through a wall, only to find a note left on his windshield saying that Blaine had had to run to the hardware store for more finishing nails and Good luck at therapy. God, he was so genuine.
And now, here Kurt was, doubting that the few dozen feet between the physical therapy front door and his car were a manageable distance. He gritted his teeth as he put one foot in front of the other, a blinding hot pain shooting up his spin as his numbing feet thunked down on the concrete gracelessly.
Probably four or five hours later, Kurt had made it into his car and noticed that it hadn't taken him that long but it had taken him nearly 7 minutes. Seven. Minutes. To walk maybe 30 feet? He was a professional athlete and fuck anyone who said dance wasn't a sport. He had trained hours upon hours a day for his entire life. He had to cut rough calluses from his feet with a razor blade. He'd given up any other hobbies, like fashion or singing as a career choice so he could focus on dance. He could lift a dense, long limbed ballerina above his head and not even flinch, he'd make it look effortless. So yeah, it was a fucking sport and he'd fight anyone who thought otherwise.
He sped out of the parking lot, unable to offer the gas pedal much finesse as his feet were now completely numb. You'd think it would be a relieving feeling, the numbness, Kurt thought. But somehow, the absence of pain was more terrifying than the intense throbbing that overtook his body with too much regularity these days.
As he neared Cassville, he realized he couldn't go home. He couldn't let Darla see him like this. She wasn't due home for another hour or two, but he had no disillusion that he'd be any better in that amount of time. Definitely not well enough to climb the stairs to his room. So, without hardly thinking, he called the only other name he really knew in this town. Well, the only one he trusted with this, at least.
"Hey Hummel," that warm honey voice answered, a hint of some nonexistent joke always buried deep in his tone. Kurt could almost cry at the comfort that washed over him at the sound of it.
"Blaine-" he croaked and oh, okay. He was crying. Awesome.
"Hey, what's wrong? You okay?" That voice became impossibly warmer, a little urgency in it.
"I uh…" Kurt took a moment to compose himself and failed spectacularly. So he took another moment, breathing deep and remembering what Blaine had told him only two weeks ago at the swimming hole when Kurt explained why he'd ended up at the school to dance like he hadn't in weeks. Maybe even years.
Well, if you ever need to be alone again, let me know. I know somewhere you can go.
"I need to be alone. I…" He didn't have more to say.
Blaine left the space open for Kurt to say more but when he didn't he seemed to understand what Kurt was saying. What he was referencing. "I know a place."
"So you've mentioned," Kurt said, trying to make a joke that wasn't at all funny but Blaine still gave him a chuckle. A pity chuckle, but he'd take it.
"Come to my place," Blaine said.
Kurt nodded before realizing Blaine couldn't see him. "Okay, I'll be there in 10." Kurt said.
"Okay, see you soon." Blaine answered, hanging up the phone.
Kurt wondered if the place to be alone was Blaine's loft. Back when Blaine had offered this, Kurt had yet to see it so it made sense if Blaine was offering it. Kurt could picture the cooling darkness of the loft if Blaine just closed the garage door and cranked the A.C., shutting out the rest of the world. The silence. The stillness. It sounded perfect.
But when Kurt pulled up, Blaine was already standing outside of the garage, keys in hand.
Wordlessly, Kurt stepped out of his car and watched as Blaine hopped into the drive seat of his truck. He turned it on and lowered the window with the hand crank. "Hop in," he said to Kurt. And Kurt did, no questions asked. Well, he surely didn't hop, that had been a cruel word choice, but at this point, he'd follow Blaine just about anywhere.
Blaine reversed down the driveway, and it wasn't until they were on the road that he glanced over at Kurt to take in his red, puffy eyes and slouched shoulders. He reached out and patted Kurt's shoulder.
They'd only been driving a grand total of perhaps 10 minutes, skirting the outer edge of town when they pulled up at the last house on Walnut before the road continued on into nothingness. The only house as far as the eye could see and Blaine killed the engine.
Kurt looked around, confused. The house was old and stately looking but more of an emphasis on old at the moment. It looked almost abandoned. It needed a fresh coat of paint and some of the shutters were hanging on by a single hinge but Kurt could tell that his house had once been beautiful and with a little TLC, could be once again. It sat far back from the road, almost lost in the unkempt yard and partly shielded by a row of huge, mature trees. The sunlight dappled the green yard as it filtered through the leaves. It looked like a whole other world.
"Where are we? Who's house is this?" Kurt asked, head whipping around like an answer would be nailed to a tree somewhere.
Blaine unbuckled his seatbelt and opened his door. "Mine."
Kurt's head whipped once again, wide shocked eyes landing on Blaine as he scrambled to untangle himself from his belt and follow Blaine. "Yours?" He crowed, "This is your house? You have a house?"
In his surprise, he momentarily forgot that his feet no longer worked and his pounce out of the car turned swiftly into a fall. But it turns out that ever attentive Blaine had probably been anticipating this after watching Kurt's trek from his own car into the truck and he was already waiting outside his door to catch him.
He supported the brunt of Kurt's weight as he walked them up the long cracked driveway, over run by weeds, to the front door. He produced his keys from his pocket and selected an older looking one to slot into the lock.
When it swung open, the brightness nearly blinded Kurt. Inside was a construction site. The walls looked to have new drywall hung and primed for painting. Everything was a stark white. Kurt saw outlets without covers, showing off shiny, new electrical and even the dusty, sawdust covered floors appeared to have been refinished already.
It hit him, "So this is the other project you're always so vague about…" it came out in a reverent whisper.
Blaine chuckled, seemingly flattered by Kurt's obvious adoration for the space. "That would be correct."
"But why? Why do you keep it such a secret? And why are you living in a loft when you own all of this?" he gestured broadly with his arm.
Blaine led Kurt over to what was probably going to be the kitchen. It had zero appliances and half the cabinets were ripped out. The ones that remained didn't have doors and the place was blanketed in plastic sheeting. Probably for painting, maybe murder, who knows?
"I uh, I don't really have visitors here very often or like...ever. So I don't have any chairs or anything. But the floor should be cleaner here." Blaine said, "Is that okay with you?"
"Honestly, just not being on my feet right now sounds perfect." Kurt sank down to the floor as Blaine's strong arms guided him down softly. Without them, he would have collapsed with a crash.
Blaine sat down next to Kurt as they leaned against the newly installed kitchen island that smelled of fresh cut lumber and looked handmade. Probably was, knowing Blaine.
"So you never answered my questions," Kurt said, "Why is this such a secret? Why didn't you tell me you were working on a house? Your house, apparently."
Blaine shifted a bit, not in an uncomfortable way but almost like he was making up his mind.
"It's not really a secret, not really," Blaine spoke slowly, as if picking his words with intention. "It's just...not public knowledge."
Kurt scoffed, and rolled his eyes. "Are we going to play a game of semantics or am I going to get real answers?"
Blaine narrowed his eyes at the challenge but there was no hardness to it. "Okay fine. The truth is, I don't want the town to know that I own the place. Because if they know, they'll want to help. And I don't want their help."
Kurt's teasing glimmer died down a little, replaced with some confusion and a softness that he couldn't quite place. "But...why?" He looked around the large open space, knowing from the outside that there was so much more space twisting down these hallways and up the stairs. "I imagine it's pretty tough to fix this place up all on your own; it's huge."
"It is. But this town has already done so much for me. Too much. And I'll never be able to repay them in full. That's why I do what I do." Blaine and he had always been honest with one another, to Kurt's knowledge. But the brazen honesty of this was admirable. Blaine didn't look at him as he said this, but he didn't need to.
"So, you fix up people's homes and businesses as, what? A thank you? For…" Kurt left the ending open, hoping Blaine would fill it in.
And he did. "Mr. Jennings used to drive me to my little league practice when I was 9, since grandma had her church choir practice at the same time on Wednesdays. Ms. Paula used to give me a free drink at the movie theatre, every time I went. Mr. Reynolds? He made an exception and let me sit out from playing dodgeball the first 3 years after I moved here. These people? This town? I know they don't think there's debt to be paid but there is. Because without them, I wouldn't have had a childhood. I would have gone from 8 year old to adult in the blink of an eye and I can't imagine how hard that would have been. Shit was already bad enough and I...I wouldn't have handled anything more on top of that. And because of them, I didn't need to."
Kurt swallowed thickly, feeling tears deep in his eyes. They were far away from the surface but still there. His own little secret. He wanted to say something to let Blaine know that he understood, that he knew how hard it was to lose a parent at such a young age. He couldn't imagine losing both.
As if reading his mind, Blaine said, "You know, my parents didn't die."
Everything froze. Hadn't Darla mentioned a car accident or something? Did I imagine that? Kurt looked over to Blaine and he knew his eyes were huge, full of questions and honest confusion.
Blaine shrugged, looking down at his hands as he pulled his knees up. Not a full fetal position but something more defensive, for sure. "It's just what grandma told everyone when she took me in. Figured it would be easier than everyone knowing that my parents didn't want me anymore." He laughed, a joyless sound that sounded tired, "She said that they might as well have died in an accident because they were dead to her."
Kurt continued to stare, now knowing that he in fact did not know what Blaine had gone through. Not in the slightest.
Blaine continued, his head tilting back and thumping against the kitchen island. He sighed deeply, like he was physically expelling all of his demons. "I guess my parents just didn't want a son. Or, I don't know...didn't want a son like me. To be honest, I never really dwelled on it too much. Tried not to. It just seemed easier to forget they ever even existed and settle in here."
Kurt nodded, unsure he could offer more. "So...when I asked if you ever missed them?"
Blaine reached out, palm up. A wordless suggestion that Kurt slid his hand into. It was too hot to hold hands in the stale air of the house but he didn't let go. "I meant it. I don't know if I do. Well," He gave Kurt's hand a squeeze, as if looking for strength, something to ground him. "Maybe that's not true. Maybe I don't miss them but I'm afraid of what that means? What kind of person doesn't miss their parents, ya know?"
"The kind of person who has shitty parents who don't deserve to be missed." Kurt said at once. It was an easy answer to him, but probably because it was only in theory. Blaine's was in actuality.
But Blaine smiled at that, like hearing Kurt say it made it a thousand times more true than anytime he'd ever thought it. "Yeah, maybe." He looked over at Kurt, eyes a little watery but looking lighter. Like honey. "Maybe you're right."
"I usually am." Kurt preened, trying to break the tension. Blaine chuckled, giving Kurt's sweaty hand another squeeze with his sweaty hand.
A blissful moment of silence bloomed between them. Blaine's truth out between them, sitting on the ground in a not so abandoned house.
"So," Blaine said softly, looking at Kurt with eyes as soft, "you want to talk about why we're here, in my house?" As if suddenly realizing something he cursed under his breath, "Shit, you said you wanted to be alone, right? Shit, I'm sorry Hummel, I'll go sit in the truck. Stay as long as you need, I'll drive you back to the loft when you're ready, I-"
"Blaine?" Kurt interrupted. Blaine froze, waiting for instruction. "Shut up. I want you here, okay? I uh...I don't think I actually want to be alone I just...can we just be alone together?" He knew that made no sense but Blaine still nodded like it did and Kurt felt his heart flutter.
"So I answered your questions," Blaine continued, "Now it's your turn to answer mine: what's wrong? What made you so upset today?"
Kurt suddenly blushed, feeling childish and silly after Blaine's confession of a very real trauma he'd been carrying around his entire life. "I uh...god, it feels so stupid now but I just had a really hard day at physical therapy."
"It's not stupid." Blaine said immediately. "You want to tell me about it?"
And so Kurt did. He told Blaine how he felt weak, how he felt like a mere shadow of what he once was. He told Blaine how he feared the numbness that overtook him more than the actual pain and oh god, the pain. He told Blaine of the stabbing hot lighting that shot down his spine and curled around his toes. The throbbing in his lower back. The pins and needles he was always walking on. He told Blaine how he was so scared some days that he wouldn't be able to make it up the stairs to his room. He was afraid that Darla would find him, wasted and useless at the bottom of the stairs. He was afraid that she'd worry for nothing if she knew or worse, that her worry would end up being justified.
"I just feel like I'm caught in this limbo. Like, everything I've ever worked for is hanging in the balance. And I'm just so fucking tired of being scared." Kurt said, his tears having dried and left stiff tracks down his cheeks. He sniffled some, still gripping Blaine's hand like a life line.
Blaine nodded understandingly, having been quiet through Kurt's rant. Finally, he spoke. "I mean...in the "Who's got it worse" category, I think I still win with my whole "parents didn't want me" thing sooo…"
Kurt laughed, a startled, sudden noise that broke out of him like a frightened animal. But it felt so good on his raw throat and he let the laugh blossom into something deep and real. He looked over to see Blaine absolutely shining, his perfect white teeth so stark against his golden skin. His eyes crinkled in the corners, joy etching it's way into every last crevice..
When Kurt's laughter subsided, he shook his head, still smiling. "You made a joke about your shitty parents just to make me smile," he hadn't really meant to say it out loud but there it was.
Blaine sighed and squeezed Kurt's hand. "Hummel, you should really know by now that I'd do just about anything to make you smile. You know that, right?"
Kurt nodded because he did. He knew it like he knew the sky was blue or that New York had the best bagels. And Kurt also knew that he would too. "Same."
"Life is just so goddamned serious and filled with really dark and important things and decisions and I just...I don't know. I know it doesn't fix everything but sometimes the only way to get through the really tough shit is to laugh your way out of it. Work really hard and keep fighting and never stop laughing."
"Wow," Kurt said, a little dazed by Blaine's words. "So like...do you want that on your tombstone verbatim or do you want me to remove some of the profanity?"
Blaine smiled that huge, crinkly eyed smile and pulled their still clasped hands to his lips. He kissed the back of Kurt's and dropped the bundle back down between them. "There you go Hummel, now you're getting it."
A/N: Did anyone see any of that coming? Either the house thing or the "parents aren't really dead" thing? Because if you did, I feeeeeel like you're lying but I'd also be very impressed lol. Please feel free to leave a review and/or follow and favorite! See ya'll next time!