Hey, I actually updated on time! This chapter is longer, but there's the Klaine in it. Next chapter will be up by Thursday/Friday :)
The Lima Bean, approximately 2:30 PM. Quinn always came here after school to meet up with some of her friends to work on homework. Blaine sat in the corner, a plate of biscotti and a copy of the local newspaper in front of him. He had an old, tan jacket from Goodwill wrapped around him, the hood crushing his hair. He wanted to see how Quinn was acting without Blaine with her. She entered with Sam Evans, of all people, flipping her hair and walking towards a table near Blaine. It felt weird not having Quinn dangle Blaine on her arm like a cheap keychain on a key ring.
"Okay, this isn't unusual," Blaine thought as they got closer to him. He pretended to flip through the newspaper as Quinn shot him a look. The blondes exchanged a few words and pecked each other lightly on the lips before sitting down. Blaine ripped the corner of the paper he was pretending to read in shock, listening in as best as he could to their conversation.
"I feel bad for doing this," Sam confessed, "He's my best friend."
"Well, your best friend is in rehab," she said strongly. Rehab? Was that the information scrawled on the post-it note in his father's office? Mr. Anderson probably called the Fabrays with some elaborate lie that his son was thrown in to a rehabilitation facility.
"For six months," Sam added, looking down at his hands on the table, "What's gonna happen then?"
"He doesn't have to know."
Blaine got up from the table in a hurry, bumping into someone on the way out the glass doors. He met the blue-eyed gaze.
"Oh, I'm sorry."
It was Kurt. He had on a black vest, tight pants, and a white collared shirt. He caught his own blue and red strapped backpack before it hit the floor after the collision. Blaine didn't say anything in return; his eyes simply locked on the other boy's, his throat growing dry as he tightened the hood on his jacket, continuing out the door.
"One month today," Blaine sighed, marking off November 7th on the calendar kept on the Anderson, her, his refrigerator. He barely left the house unless it was to spy on Quinn and Sam or pick up something quickly at the grocery store. There were also the nights (like tonight) where he'd people watch at the Lima Apartment Complex for his own entertainment. Warming himself up a little bit with the thermos of hot chocolate before stepping outside, he walked out of his house, down the street, and a few blocks over.
The thermos was bone dry by the time Blaine actually started his people watching. Tucking the still-warm thermos under his arm, he pulled his hood tighter around his head, ducking down a little. A tall, slender figure caught the corner of his eye. From what he could see, they were dressed in a blue colored pea coat, incredibly tight jeans, and boots that stopped at the knee. Kurt Hummel. Blaine felt warm on the inside, and not because of the cocoa. Kurt left the complex, crossed the street (and dodged some cars), and walked out of Blaine's sight.
"Where is he going? What is he doing? Does he live here? Or is he visiting someone?" all of these questions raced through the curly haired boy's head. Then, he realized it was Kurt Hummel he was thinking about. A boy he never really talked to and—a boy. Blaine was straight, there was no way he could ever be gay...right? He never felt any real connection to Quinn, none at all. He always thought it was just her. As Blaine argued with his thoughts, Kurt crossed the street again, holding a large cup of coffee and a huge stack of fashion magazines pressed to his chest. Blaine felt a lump in his throat as Kurt looked in his general direction of the bench where he was sitting. He slowly got up and walked quickly as he could home, leaving his thermos on the bench.
Pretty much every night after that, Blaine found himself at that bench, seeing what Kurt did that night. Most of the time, it was the same thing, a coffee and magazine of some sort. One night it was Chinese food, another groceries. But one night, Kurt didn't leave the complex. Blaine waited and waited, and suddenly, a blaring siren whizzed past his ear, heading into the complex. People walking along the sidewalk stopped, walking towards the complex. Blaine speed walked to the circle square, where a body on a gurney was already being loaded into the ambulance. Questions fluttered through the air like leaves in autumn.
"NO!" a bloodcurdling scream. Kurt appeared, with messy hair and a white v-neck, his face soaked in tears. The EMTs held him back as he wailed louder. They eventually let him go, and he bolted back towards his apartment. Blaine made his way through the crowd to try and follow him, no matter how creepy that sounded. He reached the Hummel's apartment, the door slightly ajar. It was relatively clean, minus the crumpled carpet and broken vase, presumably from the EMTs. Blaine found Kurt's bedroom, with Kurt thrown on his bed, his back raising up and down slowly. His long legs dangled off the end, and his hair was even messier in the light. Blaine noticed the red thermos on the dresser, his red thermos, which he figured that someone had picked it up after he ran away from the bench days ago. He just wanted to kneel on the bed next to Kurt and pull the sandy colored strands off of his forehead, maybe even cradle him, but he couldn't. They'd spoken what, 10 words to each other, tops? He stood near the bed for a while, thinking what he should do. Maybe he should take the thermos and leave? Yeah, that sounded good, and then Kurt wouldn't even know that he was here. He carefully took the thermos off of the wooden dresser and whipped around, stubbing his toe on the arch of the doorway.
"Fuck," he said, a little louder that he should've.
"What the hell?"
Cliffhanger...I had to.