"I'm sorry, Kurt."
"But you were excited about it!" Kurt pouted. "I was excited."
"I just can't."
There was something in Blaine's voice. Kurt frowned into the phone.
"Are you okay?" Blaine didn't answer. "Blaine?" There was a sound that made his heart ache. "Are you crying?"
"No." Blaine laughed, but it sounded false.
"Blaine. Please. What's wrong?"
There was another silence. Kurt closed his eyes. He could hear the strangled sound of Blaine's silent tears. A tear fell down his own cheek.
"I'm sorry," Blaine whispered, finally. Then he hung up.
Kurt continued to hold the phone for a moment. He couldn't believe Blaine was being so distant. They had enjoyed a wonderful evening two nights earlier and then the night before that and the night before that. They had laughed and shared stories. And they had kissed. Their first kiss.
The highly anticipated, interactive 'Greatest Showman' had been on Kurt's calendar for weeks. He had thought it would just be him and Rachel, but then Blaine had said he was hoping to go too. He had his outfit planned. It was going to be a wonderful night.
He leant against his locker feeling sorry for himself and miserable. The day seemed, suddenly, to stretch ahead before him drearily.
Then Rachel marched up to him. He groaned inwardly.
"Why are you moping?" she demanded. That day, 'The Greatest Showman Day', as they had been calling it, was eagerly anticipated by Rachel too. "Tonight's the night." She beamed at him. He wasn't sure he could cope with her intensity.
"Blaine's not coming," Kurt pushed out his bottom lip.
"Oh," Rachel assessed the situation quickly. Blaine being there didn't matter to her much. She had much preferred the idea when it was just her and Kurt, but clearly, Blaine's decision now threatened to spoil the mood. "I'm sorry," Rachel said. She made a sympathetic noise. "We'll still have a wonderful time though." She looked at him and panic suddenly threatened to consume her. "You are still going, aren't you?"
Kurt sighed. He wasn't sure he had the heart for it.
"I'm just worried about Blaine," he said. He looked at Rachel and saw the panic in her eyes. "Yes, I'll still come," he said. He allowed her to hug him and squeal and then talk the whole way to the Choir Room, but he just couldn't shake the feeling that something was wrong.
Blaine held the phone in his hand. He stared at it and wondered what Kurt would be thinking. He wiped the tears from his cheeks, but more fell. He felt a pain in his chest. An aching pain that threatened to consume him. A sob caught in his throat. He lay down on the bed and cried, silently, into his pillow.
Kurt raised his hand.
"Yes, Kurt?"
Kurt looked at Mr Schue and then around at everyone. These people were his friends. He trusted them all.
"It's Blaine," he said.
"What about him?"
"I think something's wrong."
Mr Schue nodded, listening. "Do you have any more for me to go on?" he said.
"He was fine yesterday," Mercedes said.
"Have you had a lover's tiff?" Santana laughed.
Mr Schue held up his hand. "Can we hear Kurt out, please," he said, glaring at Santana. He looked back at Kurt. "Why do you think something's wrong Kurt? You know him more than any of us here, so tell us, and if we can help, we'll help."
Kurt sighed. "That's just it, there isn't anything specific, but I just have this feeling…" He trailed off realising how weak it sounded.
"I have a feeling like that too," Brittany said. "Usually, it's okay once I've been to the bathroom."
Kurt ignored her. Everyone ignored her.
"Blaine has cancelled a date for tonight," Rachel said. She crossed her arms in agitation. "Usually not something to be worried about, but it is The Greatest Showman Interactive experience."
"Kurt, buddy. Cancelling a date is no big thing. He might just be feeling a little overwhelmed."
Kurt looked at Finn and smiled at him.
"I know that," he said. "And I know how it makes me sound, but you're right Mr Schue, I do know him better than everyone here. I know he's not been with us long and we've only been an item for a few weeks, but I know he's hiding something."
Mr Schue nodded slowly. "Okay," he said. "I'll make a call to his dad. Check in on him."
"Thank you." Kurt smiled gratefully. He breathed a sigh of relief.
"I just had a call from one of your teachers."
Blaine looked at his dad from his bed.
"Oh?" He sat up, nervously. "What did he want?"
"Seems to think your friends are worried about you," Blaine thought of Kurt. He knew he would guess something was wrong. His dad walked further into the room. "You wanna tell me what's going on?"
Blaine shrugged. "No idea," he said. He tried to keep calm. Tried not to show his fear. "I haven't said anything, honestly." He laughed awkwardly. "It was probably Kurt. He likes to make a drama out of things."
"I don't want teachers ringing me up," his dad said. His voice was calm, but Blaine heard the edge of irritation.
He shook his head. "Absolutely, Sir. I agree. I'll make sure it doesn't happen again."
His dad stood there for a moment appraising his son.
"And how are you going to do that?" he asked with a smile.
Mr Schue looked up with a welcoming smile. Blaine was standing there. He looked nervous.
"Can I have a moment?" he said.
"Come in," Mr Schue said. He crossed his arms across his desk. "Sit down." Blaine shifted his bag and stayed standing. "Is everything okay?"
Blaine shook his head. "Not really," he said. "I don't want you to call my dad again," he said. "You had no business to in the first place."
"I was worried about you. We all were."
Blaine laughed without mirth. "You mean Kurt was and he got you all thinking something was going on?" Blaine sat down. "Look, Mr Schue. My dad has a hard time with me being gay and it's something we're working through together. I need to take it slowly with Kurt and that's all there is to it."
Mr Schue nodded. "Okay," he said.
"I don't see why that's so hard to understand."
"No," Mr Schue leaned back in his chair. "You need to talk about this with Kurt then."
"I know and I will. I just didn't realise he'd make such a big thing about it." He smiled dryly. "I cancelled a date," he said.
Mr Schue laughed. "It was pretty big news." Blaine stood up. "Just one thing, Blaine," Mr Schue said, suddenly serious. "Is your dad giving you a hard time? I mean, would you like Miss Pillsbury to call him?"
"God, no!" Blaine looked horrified. "No, please. No more calls." He smiled again, but Mr Schue saw the fear in his eyes. "He just needs time. He loves me, I know that."
Mr Schue nodded and watched Blaine leave. He knew there was no more he could do, but he saw that Kurt had been right to worry.
Blaine reached over and took Kurt's hand.
"It's not over," he said. He smiled. "Look at me, Kurt."
Kurt looked up at Blaine. Why was he so beautiful?
"It sounds as if you're breaking up with me…" He took his hand away and leaned back in his chair. The café was busy and loud. "When someone says they need time, it only ever means one thing."
Blaine sighed. "I just need you to understand."
"First you cancel the Greatest Showman which, by the way, was fantastic, then you tell me you need time…" He frowned and leaned forwards again. It wasn't the best place to be having such a personal conversation. "If you want to break up with me, I'd rather you just say. Put me out of my misery."
Blaine stared into Kurt's eyes. He smiled again.
"Why are you smiling?" Kurt asked quietly.
"I'm smiling, because you're cute." He leaned in closer. "And I don't want to break up with you," he whispered. His lips touched Kurt's. The noise of the café had faded to nothing. It was just him and Blaine.
Blaine leaned back again. His smile had grown. "Now do you believe me?" he asked.
Kurt's heart was hammering in his chest. He touched his lips with his fingertips and then smiled.
"I'll wait then," he said.
Blaine was sitting in his room alone. He was lying on his back, on his bed, staring at the ceiling. When had his life got so complicated? Before Kurt, everything was fine. Now, nothing was. Things were spiralling out of control and he didn't know how long he could hang on for. It was so hard. Pretending all the time. It was exhausting.
He heard the front door bang. He sat up. There was nothing to be afraid of, he told himself. His throat suddenly felt dry. He licked his lips.
He heard a crash from the kitchen. He stood up and watched his door. He tried to calm his breathing. There was another crash. Blaine winced. He heard footsteps.
His door opened.
"Hey Dad," he said. He couldn't hide the tremor in his voice.
His dad stood there, swaying slight. He glared at him and stumbled into the room.
"You going out tonight, son?" he asked. Blaine shook his head. "You sure?" His dad walked over to him. Blaine could smell the booze. His dad smiled. It was an ugly sneer. "You don't want to go and hang out at any of those queer places?"
Blaine took a step backwards. "No, Dad," he said. He held out a hand in supplication. "I don't go there. Let me fix you some food."
"I don't want food," he said. "I want a son who's a man, not a faggot!" Blaine winced.
"Dad. Please…"
"Dad, please…" His dad laughed. It was a cold and cruel sound. He closed the gap between them. He studied his son's face. He looked disgusted. "Someone saw you," he said. "Broad daylight. Kissing another boy."
Blaine shook his head. He was too afraid to say anything more. He watched his dad, carefully, like the hunted watches the hunter.
"Sitting in a café. Surrounded by people. You were seen!"
"I'm sorry…" Blaine felt the wall behind him. He had nowhere else to go.
"You're sorry?" his dad said. "Sorry?" He took a deep, cleansing breath. "I'll make you sorry," he said. He clenched his fist and rammed it into his son's stomach.
Blaine doubled up in pain. He dropped to the ground. He looked up at his dad, tears streaming down his cheeks. His dad punched again. The blow landed on Blaine's side, near his kidneys. The pain shot through his body. Another blow landed and another. He had fire raging inside him now.
"You can't even fight me," his dad hissed. He stood there panting for a moment. His fists still clenched.
Blaine lay on the floor crying. His arms covering his head.
"No more," he sobbed. "Please, Dad. No more."
His dad spat on the floor and then he left the room.
Blaine lay there until he got cold. Then he struggled to his feet. The pain was excruciating, but the bed was close. He lay down gingerly. Sleep would make it all go away, he told himself as he closed his eyes.
He lay awake until the house was silent, and dark, then he swallowed some paracetamol and took a shower. Moving was bad, but he would take more paracetamol in the morning. Then he would get dressed and do his hair and practice his smile.
He was getting good at pretending.