Title: Stopping
Author: catsblackmagic
Warning: Self harm, food substance issues (bulimia, ect.), high ammounts of angst.
Word Count:
Rating: M
Characters/Paring: Kurt/Blaine
Disclaimer: It'd be nice to own Glee. ^^ But I don't. :c
Summary: Kurt has a secret he doesn't care about, but won't talk to anyone. Except Blaine, of course.
Author's Note: I got this idea after reading 'Cut' by Katherine McCormick. Very good book. ^^'
.break.-
At school the next day, I wear a long-sleeved black sweater with gold studs on the shoulders. The sleeves stop just at my fingertips and I constantly remind myself not to push them up, not matter how hot it is. I'm in homeroom now, the science room with it's large, black tables, sitting silently in the back. For a while, no one is sitting beside me. Finn and Puck sit together infront of me, talking to Sam and Mike at the table next to them. I watch them for a long time. They seem so normal, everything seems so normal. They talk about the latest baseball scores, about how they can't wait for football season to start up again, about Coldplay's newest album, about relationships. So serene and normal, I think for a minute that I'm like them; normal, straight, a jock, and not so flamboyant.
Then Blaine comes in and I look away, twist in my chair. He smiles and says hi to the glee boys sitting infront of me. He takes his seat beside me, dropping his bag on the floor and turning to face me. I cross my arms and legs, turn so my back is facing him. I'm in no mood to talk; I stayed up late last night and my back aches and it hurts to talk, so I just don't. Blaine sighs, then turns. I look out the window, but my ears are alert. I can hear him rifle through his bag, pull out some papers, and begin writing on them. I breath almost silently, sigh even quieter. I turn in my chair, feeling small and dead. Blaine glances to me, searches my eyes, then continues writing. I understand I look like death, too. There are faint rings under my eyes from lack of sleep. My style is off today. My hair is slightly toulselled. There's lined paper under my nose suddenly, with the writing of "Do you want to talk?" on the first line. Blaine looks at me, then back to his work.
I pull out a purple pen and write, "No," and, "Not verbally," as an after-thought. Blaine scralls back, "How are you?" I don't know how to respond. "Terrible, I suppose." Blaine writes, "Oh," and the conversation is stilled and awkward after that. "I'm just...tired," I write, handing him the paper. He hesitates for a moment, then scribbles, "Are you ok? I mean...after yesterday." I look at the note for a long while, then slump forward, pushing my chair back. I cross my arms infront of me and rest my chin on my wrists, writing, "Fine. Why would I be any different?"
In my mind, we've just met and instead of like the time on the staircase, I don't feel instant trust towards this guy. I am shy of him, unknowing, and want to tell him nothing more. Where did our relationship go? I know he still thinks of us as boyfriends, because we are, but I feel detached and finally, at once, alone.
Blaine begins to write again and I watch him curiously. "Well...Yesterday you were c-" I flick my wrist out and sharply stop Blaine from writing anymore, harshly dragging my pen across the paper, over his words. The movement happens quickly and leaves a dark, violet line on the paper. Blaine looks at me and I catch my breath. Huh. That's funny. I don't remember panting like that.
"Kurt," he starts, but I stop him, shake my head.
"I don't want to talk...to you. At the moment." The words are knives in my lungs and heart, but I -again- ignore the look of pain and hurt and shock on Blaine's face. The capacity of those I could never feel.
.break.-
AN: Huzzah, stuff is going down hill! :D -sarcasm-