A.N. Apologies for this chapter being very 'bit-y'. Those who have read Stephen King's book might understand as chapters are sometimes half pages that basically convey one thought and I wanted Kurt to go through periods of similar 'occurrences'. Also, I am hoping it helps in putting across that many days are passing with no sight of Kurt's departure from Blaine's house - it is done very well in the book and movie so hopefully I've managed to pull something similar off. Also...there's a few alterations. Remember Misery the Pig? Well, I figured I might as well give Blaine a pet too and toss in some symbolism to make my past English teachers happy. Also, call me crazy and a traitor but every time I tried to write Blaine saying 'Dirty Bird(ie)' it just seemed weird. So I changed it to 'Dirty Dog'. Not a huge improvement but I feel better writing it.
Responses:
SpecsO-O (And 'Guest', who issued a similar sentiment): I've only had one request asking me to be true to the original novel and have Blaine actually go through with the...ahem, mutilation part of it, but thankfully more readers would rather not read that scene. And I would rather not write it. I preferred the movie's take a little better but I may take the creative excuse of 'It's my fanfic and I'll write what I want to!' to skip by the issue. Not completely sure what Blaine can do in it's place, though, so open to ideas!
Lia94: Thank you for asking! I toyed with the idea of introducing some 'Stockholm Syndrome' but in the end I decided to go with the Stephen King way of having Kurt try to (figuratively) walk on eggshells just trying to live through Blaine's abrupt and violent outbursts, trying to understand but always desperate to escape.
Gleek10660: Archie WILL be back, and he will move the plot along somewhat but he'll be slow just like the frustrating chief in the movie. I'm hopefully going to give part of Blaine's twisted back-story through him. I'm re-reading the book right now and there are parts I have to take a break from it because of the dark psychological stuff so I completely get you! If there was an Annie Wilkes in my life I'd never sleep - changing her into the handsome and charismatic Blaine makes it a little easier but deep mental and emotional problems definitely make for a scarier story...
The Caged Bird is a Dirty Bird
It was amazing how time - even as little as a few days - could change a situation. Lucid enough now to understand that four days had passed since the soup incident, Kurt found himself marvelling at how the atmosphere had settled.
Of course, the days immediately before Kurt had been practically shaking and feeling like he was hyperventilating whenever he even heard Blaine move around the house. Once, the sound of a shoe falling on the floor above him caused Kurt to jump and break out in a sweat from the mere memory of that angered face and the shattering of refined clay. However, his nerves began to settle - perhaps out of sheer exhaustion - and Kurt soon fell back into some type of laxed norm in Blaine's company. Not comfortable, no, and definitely not relaxed, but it was bearable again.
Blaine was going overboard in the pleasantries and fussed over him whenever possible as if trying to show that there really wasn't a bad bone in his well-toned body and that what Kurt had witnessed had been a fluke, a one-off.
When they put me up there on that stand in Denv- Denver. He was put up on a court stand in Denver. He did something and he was brought to trial. For some reason, Kurt already knew he wasn't jumping to conclusions. Blaine wasn't just some 'witness' or hapless victim of some sort of crime - he was the crime. He did something and it had been bad, all Kurt didn't know was what exactly that something was.
He was on trial in Denver. He was on trial in Denver. He was on trial in Denver.
The thought just repeated over and over again in his mind, and he only grew more and more confused as the days passed and Blaine became the doting doctor again. It was like his outburst had never happened. That was how it seemed on Friday afternoon. Kurt had been left in the house for a couple of hours as Blaine ventured out after cleaning up Kurt's breakfast. Although curious, Kurt was not going to ask where Blaine went upon his return but he was saved the thought as he heard Blaine's pick-up truck pull up outside, the driver's door slam shut and running footsteps race up and through the front door.
The door clicked open and an excited Blaine came rushing in, his cheeks a little red from the cold and his lips dark and inviting as they stretched out into a happy grin. 'Kurt!' He panted. Off came his gloved hands and snow boots - both tossed to the corner to sit in front of the radiator - followed by his coat. Kurt raised his eyebrow in question, then noticed the shopping bags at Blaine's feet. 'You won't believe what I found today! There I was, wandering up the magazine aisle in Harrison's store when I see this on display-!' He dove into a bag and took something out. He waved an object in front of Kurt's face and it took him a few seconds to realise the book Blaine was brandishing was a copy of his novel - Darcy's Journey. 'Can you believe it? I've been waiting so long for this I almost thought I was dreaming!' Blaine rambled on, bringing the book to his chest to hug it. Kurt wasn't sure he had ever seen anyone this excited about anything, which was saying something after all those years in Glee club back in high school. He was more excited than Rachel Berry when she found all those woollen animal sweaters on the sale table in Macy's that one time. Kurt smiled and tried to share in his excitement but all he could think was 'Wow, I've been out here so long my new book is in the public eye before me...'. It was all very depressing... 'I couldn't stop myself, I just abandoned everything and ran to buy it. I tried to explain to Harrison why it was such a big deal but he was too busy yack-yack-yacking on the phone to-'
'Wait,' Kurt sat up, now very interested in what Blaine was saying. 'The phone lines are back up? And the roads are open?'
Blaine paused and the excitement left his face for a period. 'Oh, sorry, Kurt. I should have said.' His tone was noticeably less enthusiastic. 'The road to the town is just about clear but the route to the hospital is still out. Hopefully it'll clear before the next storm hits and we can get you there. And the phone here is still dead but I took the opportunity to call the hospital and spoke with the head surgeon. He seemed to think there wasn't a huge hurry since you weren't in any danger but insisted they'll send an ambulance for you as soon as they can get one up here. I also called your agent. She said she'll let your dad know you're okay and explain the situation. She was just glad to know you were alive and well, and was confident she could handle everything until you were back on your feet.' Kurt stared at him with his mouth slightly ajar. And just like that his world seemed a little closer to him, rather than drifting off in some far off galaxy far away from this dreaded snow-ridden mountain home. He began to breathe a sigh of relief: his dad knew he was alright and Santana would no doubt be on the hospital's case until they sent someone up to collect him. She'd probably even insist his immediate transfer to New York so she could visit him every day. 'I'm sorry you won't be able to speak to them personally at least until the phone lines are up and running here.'
'You think that'll happen before the roads are clear?' Kurt asked.
Blaine shrugged and fingered through his new book which took more of his interest than Kurt's situation at that moment. 'Probably. The roads are bad, Kurt, I don't know what else to tell you.' Kurt eased back onto his pillow and thought about it. It must have been one hell of a storm to have rendered the roads that bad. It was strange, though, there hadn't been much snowfall to his recollection and the sun was shining almost every day. Spring was coming if it wasn't already here, so the snow would most likely be melting. Blaine left to put the rest of the groceries away and Kurt stared out the window with renewed interest and renewed hope.
They knew. Santana, his dad, the hospital - they knew. It was only a matter of waiting.
Kurt sat stunned.
He had been on his own for well over an hour but he still could not quite understand the revelation that had occurred when Blaine had last left him. The attentive doctor had come mere moments after he heard his patient crying. Kurt had been in so much pain; a result of dozing and accidently shifting himself sideways and knocking his sensitive shattered legs against the bedpost. Kurt had seen stars as he tried to cope with the intense waves of agony but finally his voice broke out in miserable moans and suddenly Blaine was there pressing a cool face cloth against his forehead.
'Shh, shh, Kurt - tell me what's wrong.'
Blaine took his hand and Kurt grasped hold as if the older man might disappear and leave him to a life of blinding white pain. 'L-Legs,' Kurt panted, then turned his head to bury his face in the pillow. 'Ahhhh, it hurts so bad-! Please, make it stop!'
He heard Blaine hum in deep consideration, hands gently rolled along his exposed back and shoulders and urged him to sit back properly. 'I don't know what to tell you... You're not due your Novril for another couple of hours.' Kurt his upper body back and forth as if he might be able to wriggle free from his lower half if he tried hard enough. He continued to cry and moan, arching his back and covering his face as his nerves flared up again in retaliation. He managed to muffle a scream by pushing his mouth against the nook of his elbow. Blaine frowned down at him. The sweet rattle of a pill bottle brought Kurt's wet eyes out behind his arm and he rubbed his tears aside to make sure it definitely was what he wanted it to be. Blaine reluctantly shook a couple of capsules onto his palm and held them close to his chest. Kurt knew his pitiful expression demonstrated just how badly he was begging Blaine for those drops of relief. 'Kurt, I really should be giving you these...'
'Please-!' Kurt choked. Blaine pushed Kurt's hair back, also forcing Kurt's head back onto his pillow before leaning over him. He kept his hold in Kurt's hair as his other hand tossed the Novril around in his loose fist. Kurt couldn't take his eyes off him. 'Please, Blaine, please...'
Then something strange happened. Blaine ducked his head until it hovered over Kurt's then he lowered his voice to a new level. It was barely above a whisper and was thick and strong though delicate and quiet. 'Do you want these, Kurt?'
'Yes!' Kurt gasped.
'You want me to give them to you?'
'Bl-Blaine-'
'You want me to make all the pain go away? Do you want Dr Anderson to take care of you?'
'Yes! I need them, Blaine, m-my legs are-'
'Shh...' Blaine brought the hand a little closer and Kurt opened his mouth for them. But instead, Blaine dipped his head and his tongue dove into Kurt. It was only for the briefest of moments and after a couple of shocked seconds where Blaine literally stole a kiss from him, the mouth disappeared and the hand came up to Kurt's lips. Automatically Kurt let the Novril drop inside and he managed to swallow them dry before Blaine could pour him a glass of water. Still, when it was offered to him Kurt still took a few sips. Like magic, the pain in his legs immediately eased up and ebbed away to practically nothing despite Kurt's conscious knowledge that no pill works that quick. It was all in his head.
Blaine had been smiling at him the entire time. His thumb rubbed away a stray droplet of water from his chin and his other hand ran it's fingers through Kurt's sweaty locks. At last, Kurt was saved from actually acknowledging the awkward situation (which might have been one-sided in all honesty) as Blaine uttered a soft 'Hope that makes you feel better' before leaving the room again.
So Blaine had kissed him. Had it not scared the living shit out of him, Kurt might even have put it as Blaine raping his mouth when Kurt was in a very weak and vulnerable moment. But Kurt was a natural writer and he passed off the dramatic thought as proof his over-active imagination had not suffered from his near-death experience. Still, it definitely changed things. Kurt was not dumb; he knew Blaine viewed him in a less-than platonic light but there was this safety element Kurt had thought was in place wherein Blaine could not act on it. The soup incident should have been warning enough that he could not predict the older man's actions but Kurt still fooled himself into thinking ambiguous flirting was as far as it would go.
Oddly enough, though, as much as the kiss shocked him it was not the reason he was still sitting there stunned after a whole hour. He was becoming hooked on drugs, he realised. Sure, today he had suffered from true pain and was in dire need of medication but the way his body acted on a daily basis was suddenly very obvious to him. He was begging Blaine for Novril. Novril. Novril. Novril. Everyday he would watch the clock on the opposite wall and kept constant note of how many more minutes he'd have to wait before the door opened and Blaine would saunter in with his fix. It made Kurt sick to his stomach to think of how he normally acts when it's time: he would sit up to attention, his eyes would grow big and wide and his mouth would become dry as he desperately licked at his lips. Fingers would twitch. Muscles would burn.
Novril - Novril - Novril.
Kurt was addicted. Blaine knew it, now Kurt knew it. Having never had a vice in his life, Kurt felt bitterly ashamed. Well, no more, he thought to himself. Starting from that moment he would actively start to wean himself off the painkiller, taking only enough to keep the worst of the agony at bay. He could handle more than he gave himself credit for, he believed, so he was set on kicking his addition to the curb straight away.
Three hours later Blaine appeared with his Darcy Brown book tucked under his arm and two new capsules in his palm. Kurt swallowed them down before remembering his vow. Dammit...
The following day more or less matched Kurt's expectations. As he predicted, the horrifying drug-kiss incident was forgotten about or at the very least not mentioned, much like how his angered outburst had been swept under the rug. Blaine came in as normal wearing his cotton slacks he wore to bed and wished Kurt a good morning as he washed down some pills with some water. An hour later, breakfast appeared on a food tray. As Kurt was left to eat, Blaine took to the outdoors to do some general outdoor-sy chores. Kurt always meant to ask him what he did out there in the snow every day but by the crunching of snow under black boots and the grunting and slamming of heavy objects it seemed that his host might also be a part-time farmer. And Kurt had no interest in hearing about the tractor's rust or the snow plough, or any plough for that matter. All he knew was by the time Kurt had finished with his food tray, Blaine was generally coming back inside with a whistle blowing from his lips.
Lunch would arrive about one in the afternoon. That was the day Blaine first mentioned taking Kurt out to sit on the porch when Kurt was able enough, and amazingly it did not sound like a false promise. Kurt was then permitted a few hours of extra sleep that would no doubt 'heal those poor bones faster than nature would have intended' as Blaine excitedly rushed off with his novel which he was determined to read whenever he had a spare minute.
'I think I'm on chapter six,' Blaine told him as he prepared the sheets and tucked Kurt up tightly to avoid another bedpost accident.
Kurt stared up at the ceiling, sighing. 'You're sure racing through it. I guess that means it's okay.'
'No.' Kurt looked up at him in a moment of interest. 'No, it isn't, it's...' Blaine paused in his bed-making to search for the right words. When they didn't come to him he laughed and looked into Kurt's eyes. 'Would 'great' be insulting? No, it's not just great, it's... perfect.' Blaine laughed more, his shameless gushing coming out like a fan letter - one of those fan letters Kurt barely read a word of. 'Oh, Kurt, I love it. It's incredible. Perfect. It's like this perfect, perfect...thing. That part with the wine glasses-! And the part with Lord Anthony in the cramped bookshop, where they almost...' The doctor dove at Kurt's hand and grasped it tightly as Kurt jumped in alarm and stared back at him fearfully. 'Ah, Kurt, you gotta tell me! Do they get together in the end? Anthony and Darcy? Is that the final plan? Will Charles May get in the way before they do?' Then, as suddenly as it happened, Blaine dropped Kurt's hand and wagged a finger at him as he backed away. 'No, no, don't tell me. I want to find out on my own. I wouldn't want to spoil the surprise.' With a grin as wide as a hanger, Blaine closed the curtains and bounded out the bedroom before Kurt could respond.
The sounds which woke Kurt from his Novril-induced slumber were not the typical sounds he was used to in Casa de Blaine. He winced with his eyelids still shut. The fluttering noises continued despite his best efforts to will them away. There was flapping hitting off thin metal and occasionally Kurt wondered if he really was hearing little splashes too but none of it made sense. Then he opened his eyes.
'Kurt, I thought it was time you met a very special someone.' Blaine was grinning down at him. His tone was cheerful and hushed; Kurt was strongly reminded of his mother when she would gently wake him for school. 'Wakey wakey day breakey, hun. Come sit up and give mommy a big good morning hug. Kurt swallowed hard and desperately tried to pull his stare off from Blaine's face but it was like they were drawn to him. Like a bug to a flame. A violent fluttering to Kurt's right broke him free, though, and he flinched in fright. 'Hey, don't worry. Darcy's just excited to see you.'
'Darcy...?' Kurt croaked. He gazed at the bird like he had never seen such an animal before. Yellow and dark silver feathers overlapped each other to form a stunningly complex textured pattern along the length of it's tiny body, through every feathered tip was s deep smoky shade of grey. It's head was solid black save from a mask of bright yellow that caused it's beaded eyes to appear huge and cartoonish. It was so small inside the gold-wired cage it was sitting in. The bird tilted it's head and considered Kurt for the briefest of moments before flying off to the side, alarming Kurt as it went on hitting the bars and falling back onto it's swing, defeated.
Blaine moved the cage closer on the bed near Kurt's head and he gazed proudly at his pet. 'Don't worry, he's a warbler bird; totally tame and friendly. Incredible animals. I hope you take it as a compliment that I named him after your creation. I just figured that because of his glossy feathers and perfect dainty features he was beautiful in the same way Darcy Brown is.' Kurt couldn't help but pity the unfortunate Darcy but not because of the origin of his name but because of the sadness in his eyes. Those black beads shone under the sunlight from the window but all that was reflected were depths of loneliness and woe. 'Gorgeous, isn't he?' Blaine said wistfully, 'And you should hear him sing - Dang! - It's like music for your heart. Soothes and excites all at once.'
'Funny, he's not singing now.' Kurt tried to say casually. 'Actually, I'm surprised to know you had him; I haven't heard even a peep from him at all.'
'Well you wouldn't; Darcy is moulting.' Blaine replied simply. 'He's putting all his energy and focus into producing new feather and building himself up - sounds like someone else I know.' He winked at Kurt and laughed. Kurt gave a short chuckle but didn't bother with any real enthusiasm. Poor Darcy ruffled his feathers and continued watching Kurt, no, pleading with him with those shiny eyes. A feather came loose and floated out between the bars to land softly on the blanket. 'Don't you just love him?'
'I never really liked seeing birds cooped up.' Kurt answered honestly, though still trying to sound casual, 'So, does the bird-'
'Darcy.' Blaine corrected with a wink.
Feeling like this constant repetition of that sickening name would eventually cause him to scream, Kurt feigned a smile but knew it was hardly convincing. 'Right.' He said through clenched teeth. 'Darcy. Does Darcy ever get let out to stretch his feathered wings?'
Blaine hummed and wriggled his finger between the bars. Darcy fluttered his wings and hopped an inch along his perching area away from the intrusion. 'No. No, I don't think that would be a good idea. You see some creatures can only truly be admired like this.'
Kurt felt a twist in his gut. He looked to his doctor with an unsettled stare. 'Caged?'
Blaine glanced away from the bird and looked Kurt dead in the eyes. There was something there in those pools of warm hazel that hardened and cooled in an instant. It was a sense of restraint that Kurt was seeing more and more of with him; Blaine was holding back. 'Contained.' Blaine uttered quietly yet firmly. Instantly Kurt understood the connection that was being made, and it made him feel sick to his stomach. The older boy flashed a new reborn smile Kurt's way as he opened the cage door. His hand slid inside and grasped the panicked bird gently. 'He's better off this way.' Kurt's ill notions only worsened as he watched the tiny bird twitch silently within the strong hand that was gripping ever so carefully and securely. 'Here...pet his head.' Kurt tried to resist but as the creature was brought under his nose he knew Blaine would not let up until he did as he was told. Kurt reluctantly touched the tiny black crown with the lightest touch of his fingertip. He could feel the minuscule jerks as Darcy moved the only part of his body he could: his neck. Blaine looked down on both his captives fondly. 'By the way... I'm on page 212.'
Kurt's treatment of Darcy Warbler must have pleased Blaine immensely, as the following dinnertime brought about an array of delicious food: thick and juicy homemade burgers, mashed potatoes, a large bowl of bright mixed vegetables, spring rolls, chicken and all the trimmings Kurt could have asked for. The reason? Blaine was just in such a good mood having just finished a particularly exciting chapter which had ended in a steamy session in the back of a horse-drawn carriage between Darcy and Lord Anthony. The feast was too vast for just Kurt, so as drool-worthy as it was it lost some appeal when he realised that Blaine was eating with him that particular evening. The last time he had eaten in Blaine's presence had been the day he was almost scalded by soup and almost attacked by a flying bowl. Since that day he had deliberately waited until his carer was out of the room before eating, and Blaine had obviously felt enough shame as to have picked up on it and allowed him to do so.
Until tonight. The sun was setting and felt the whole room in a warm glow of burnt orange and red. Blaine's soft hair - which Kurt had once fantasied about touching - seemed to glow black and the curls seemed so much more defined in the change of light. His skin was kissed golden by the still-strong rays of sun. At this point in the day, Kurt almost forgot he was afraid of the beautiful man sitting beside him. Every time he smiled Kurt would feel his breath hitch. Every time the man licked his lips, Kurt followed suit. It embarrassed him to think that Blaine had caught on, and he forced himself to remember the cold contrasting experience which had left him shaking and unable to sleep. Only then did Blaine lose some of that Adonis charm.
'I was wondering,' Kurt started after swallowing down another forkful of potatoes, 'If you insist on keeping Darcy the Bird in his cage, do you at least keep him in a nice place?' He wasn't sure why he was asking but it was true that despite not being overly fond of birds his mind had been more than a little concerned for the darling yellow-and-grey creature.
Blaine smiled strangely. 'You make it sound like I mistreat him.' He commented.
'No, no, I'm not implying that...' Kurt shook his head and focused on his plate to avoid the other's gaze. 'I guess I just hoped that if he's to be contained that he be able to enjoy the scenery.'
Blaine laughed, and Kurt relaxed a bit. 'Don't worry. I normally keep him in the front room by the window. If it's not that cold out I'll open it a little to give him some fresh air.' He stabbed a piece of chicken and stole it into his mouth. After swallowing, he grinned. 'Actually, when he isn't moulting, I like to take him around the house with me. I wasn't kidding when I said he sings beautifully. Sometimes I just carry him around as I work on the house and let him teach me a new song.' Kurt's heart warmed a little. Perhaps his meeting with Darcy might not have been so depressing if the little guy had been chirping away merrily. Uh oh... Kurt noticed Blaine staring at him. The grin turned up into a tiny smirk. 'It's embarrassing to admit this to you, Kurt, but...sometimes when you were up in that cabin working on your book, I'd sit outside and listen to you sing.' The warmth in Kurt's heart drained very very quickly. Blaine had enough decency to be blushing, but he shamelessly inched his chair forward and placed his dinner plate on the side in order to gently grasp Kurt's uninjured but still overly sensitive upper thigh. Kurt jumped; he had never been touched like this before and it scared him. Blaine continued 'You...have a beautiful voice. It's breathtaking, gorgeous like an angel plucking at the most delicate harp.'
Kurt gave an uncomfortable laugh and tried to ease his leg out of his grasp but it only encouraged Blaine to rub circles over the blankets all the while slowly trailing up and up... 'Blaine, I-I don't think-'
'I want you to sing for me.' Blaine interrupted. His hand paused as well. He was staring Kurt dead in the eyes with the most insistence expression.
Kurt swallowed and then looked back at his own food. None of it seemed as appealing now as it had minutes before. Still, he chased another cut of burger around the plate and forced it into his mouth. 'Mmm-mmh.' He shook his head.
Blaine moaned at him wistfully. 'Come on, Kurt...' He urged. His thumb was making circles again but wasn't daring to go another inch up his leg. Then again, there was hardly another inch to go before the leg would become a crotch. 'I insist. Sing anything, anything would make me happy.'
Kurt knew there was no way he could force out a tune with the way his heart was pounding. The physical intrusion aside, it also scared him to remember Blaine had had the habit of stalking him before properly storming into his life. Blaine sat outside the lodge when Kurt writes. He follows his car. He idolised him beyond belief and seen him as some fictional character - perfect and wonderful, and currently one hundred percent under his control. It all crashed back into him and it caused him to feel ill. 'I-I'm sorry, but I think the accident took it out of me. I haven't found the energy yet...'
Blaine looked very disappointed but by some miraculous mercy he did not push on it any further. Instead, he leaned back in his chair and picked up his dinner again. The conversation seemingly ended and not a moment too soon. That was, until Blaine then uttered 'I'll make you sing. I promise. I'll make you sing for me eventually.'
He had been smiling sweetly at his patient as he spoke, but the effect was still there. Such an innocent, playful statement. How could something so playful, so void of ill intent and spoken with a friendly smile seem so sinister and dangerous?
Their dinner continued in near-silence, with only the occasional comment here or there and general moans of approval when they took an exceptionally delicious bite. Still, Kurt felt an immense amount of relief when the last spoonful of gravy-moist chicken was swept from the plate and Blaine stood up and collected their dishes together. He knew the drill: Blaine would clean up as Kurt readied himself as best he could for bed. There was a selection of books on the bedside table which he would be free to read under the light of the lamp but he already knew he just wanted to close his eyes and drift off with another couple of Novril promising at least a few hours of pain-free sleep.
When Blaine arrived back with the medicine, however, Kurt already knew he had more he wanted to say. As Kurt obediently let Blaine slowly place each pill on his tongue and ease his mouth closed, Blaine started to speak. 'I know you must be tired of hearing me say it, Kurt, but I'm so glad you're here.' Up goes the glass of water, in goes the fingers smoothing through Kurt's hair and curving into gentle tugs at the base of his neck. Kurt was used to it. Blaine had been increasing his methods of touching him since the kiss and by now his loving handling of his locks had become almost routine. Kurt said nothing in the hopes Blaine would get that, yes, Kurt understood, so he could leave. It didn't work.
Leaning over him, the older boy started to tuck Kurt in. He opened the first three buttons on his nightshirt and wet his bare chest to cool him off - an unnecessary action - and then smoothed his hands across his upper body, tucking the blanket in occasionally. Kurt stared up at the ceiling, his lips feeling rather vulnerable and he willed them not to redden as they usually did when he was nervous; he didn't want to give out the wrong physical signs that another kiss would be in any way welcome...
Fortunately, though, Blaine sighed and gradually left the bed. He walked to the window and stared out as the sun was setting over in the west behind the mountains. Kurt watched him, keeping silent but feeling curious to know why his carer had suddenly become so considering, so thoughtful. Many minutes passed during which Kurt contemplated closing his eyes and pretending to go to sleep, but finally Blaine spoke again and when he did he sounded distant. 'When work in the city became all too much for me, I wasn't prepared. It wasn't an easy time.' He started quietly. Kurt found himself listening intently, as if something important was about to spill out into his ears. Blaine was talking about his life, so maybe he wasn't wrong. 'I transferred to a less hectic hospital hoping that it would prevent me from going crazy, and for a while it did. I was the chief doctor - a huge accomplishment for someone so young but it motivated me to dive right into my work. But...the title and money also came with new responsibilities. I had more night shifts than ever before. Long nights...Nurses didn't include me and other doctors avoided me. They didn't like taking orders from a kid. To keep my mind occupied I did a lot of reading. At first it was just to tackle the loneliness but...then I discovered Darcy Brown.' He gave a vague smile and briefly glanced over to a silent and waiting-with-bated-breath Kurt before turning his eyes back onto the glittering silver of the snow at dusk. 'He made me so happy. He made me forget all my problems. Once I finished the first novel, I devoured the second. Then the third. Then the fourth. And when I finished the series I just read them all over again. I've got three chapters still to go on this one...and when I finish I know I'll turn right back to the first page and start reading it all over again.'
Kurt shifted after a minute as the silence which had followed Blaine's speech had left him feeling useless and awkward. The movement caught Blaine's eye and the older man seemed to shake himself out of whatever thoughtful stupor he had been in. He grinned and stood up from the window. 'Sorry, my life story must seem so dull. Anyway, I'd love to stay and chat but I'm right at the end.' He waved the novel towards it's author and began heading out into the hall. 'I gotta find out what happens.'
Kurt smiled back until the door had firmly shut. The smile then dropped and he let out a tired moan. Part of him, the writer's side, itched to write this mysterious 'difficult life' Blaine had apparently lived through pre-accident and creatively speculate how it tied in with what he did in order to appear in court in Denver. Maybe he heard some old war veteran mutter some curse words and he flipped out, tossing soup and juice boxes around the ward... His mind then berated him for his flippancy. It wasn't funny. What happened that day Blaine exploded was scary and he shouldn't belittle how horrified he had been or how much it reminded him of the way his knees would shake and his lip would shiver whenever one of his McKinley bullies touched him or walked towards him in the school hallways. Kurt hadn't felt that type of fear since his school days and it was alarming how severe and hard it hit back. But Blaine wasn't a bully. Blaine was a doctor, and doctors were to be trusted. Sadly, all trust was lost after that incident and no amount of life story would restore his faith in his saviour.
You still haven't decided which crime you think he committed to land in court, said the voice in his head. C'mon, Kurt, you're a writer. A best-selling fictional author, known to pull plot line out of your ass in a pinch and and even better one when the deadline is just a breath away. Do you need another demonstration of Blaine's sanity to help you?
'God no,' Kurt moaned. He decided he was far too tired to deal with his inner voice tonight. With the sun now completely set, Kurt turned his head away from the window and let the magic of the pills work him into a slumber.
Clunk! CLUNK!
The sound of the bedroom door slamming shut jolted Kurt out from the restless and dreamless sleep he had been in. He stared blankly as his eyes blinked and a few moments later it finally occurred to him to fight against the ache in his neck and turn towards the source of the noise which woke him. It was then he took in the sight which would haunt him for the rest of his days.
Blaine stood by the door having not moved since his loud entrance. Half of his face was in darkness, the other half illuminated by the light of the moon. The cutting contrast of black and silvery-white would have been awe-inspiring if it weren't for the downright frightening expression on the young man's face.
'You...' Blaine practically growled like a dog. His eyes were bulging and his glare piercing. His lips had turned up to form an unmistakeable disgusted sneer and the hands at his sides shook with untold fury. 'You dirty...dirty dog.'
Kurt's eyes widened and he fearfully struggled to sit up. He backed up into the headboard and tried to understand what brought on this situation - what caused it? Why was he a 'dirty dog'? What did that mean? He tried to stutter out one of these million dollar questions but the stare Blaine was holding on him struck him to the core and all he could do was flounder in petrified silence. Blaine was angry. No, beyond angry. Murderous. And from the looks of it, Kurt was in the firing line.
With three long strides which brought him to the foot of Kurt's bed, Blaine practically shook in rage. His shadow fell over Kurt. 'You...' He managed out, snarling. 'How could you?' Something big was clutched in his hand - a book. Kurt's book.
It was then Kurt realised what was happening. Blaine had finished the most latest Darcy Brown novel and had discovered that it was the very last Darcy Brown novel. Darcy Brown was dead. And Blaine did not like it.
A.N. I'M SORRY IT HAS TO END HERE! But as you know I am a lazy author who would rather deliver two reasonably decent chapters with a cliffhanger in the middle than work at producing a long-ass piece with no frustrating chapter ending... Please let me know what you thought!