A/N: You have no idea how bad I've wanted to write this all day… but again, stupid finals. I really don't think I need the Missouri Compromise and Kansas-Nebraska Act to live my life, but, gotta do whatcha gotta do I suppose. Okay, so I have a feeling some of you are going to hate me for this… I'm going to hate myself for this…. But I really want to do this. Kurt can't be the only one with problems (like we don't have enough angst.)
At about 3 Pm, the Hudmels had left and Kurt and I were alone again. As soon as the door shut, Kurt was in tears. I wiped away each one as it fell, not pushing Kurt to tell me what was wrong. I knew he would open up when he needed to. And he had already opened up so much today.
"I just don't get it." He finally said, looking at me with bloodshot, red rimmed eyes. They broke my heart every time I saw them. No one should ever have to be in this much pain.
"What don't you understand baby?" I asked
"I have so many people who love me." He said, another tear flickering from his eye. I wiped it away along with the hundreds I already had.
"Of course you do Kurt, you are the most amazing person I know." I said, reaching for Kurt's hand. He pushed it away, and I felt my heart sink. We had come so far, he can't put up these walls again.
"No." He answered simply. Just a simple no.
"What?"
"I'm not amazing. I am what they tell me I am. I'm a 'faggy little girl'. I'm fat, I'm ugly, I talk like Mickey Mouse on helium. That's not anything amazing. I don't deserve people to love me. And it hurts me Blaine, because I don't deserve them. I don't deserve YOU."
"Kurt, firstly, you are none of those things. You have taught me the most how to be a man. You've taught me how to be courageous like a man, brave like a man. Your body is perfect. Your face is like that of an angel's; you know that was my first thought about you? My first impression? That you looked like an angel sent from heaven above? That's how beautiful you are. And you're voice is one of the best things about you Kurt. You sing like a dream. You are a star. You are talented. You are a genius. And you have been kicked to the ground so many times, and you just keep standing back up. Only someone strong can do something like that. You are the person MOST deserving of a loving family and boyfriend."
"I am not strong. I tried to fucking kill myself Blaine! That's WEAK. That's SHAMEFUL." Kurt said, his voice rising in tone.
"Kurt Elizabeth Hummel. You are not weak. Trying to commit suicide is not a sign of weakness, but a sign that you have been fighting this ferocious fight for too long. You're strong for holding up this long on your own. But you can't fight this fight alone anymore. Get help is not weak. Even now, Kurt, you are the strongest person I know. And I love you more and more every day. You don't know how PROUD I am of you Kurt. You're starting to open up to people; you talked with your family today. You are getting better each and every second. And this isn't going to be easy. There's going to be days where life just SUCKS. But we've got each other. We've got Burt and Carole and Finn. We have New Directions and The Warblers. And most importantly, we've got strength. We've got courage. And we're going to get through this." I said.
I was in tears now. My Kurt should never, EVER, have to go through all of this pain. How could he think he's fat and ugly and untalented? He's the opposite of it. He's beautiful, amazing, and talented. What hurt the worst is that no matter how many times I tell him, he doesn't believe me.
Kurt reached his hand out to my face, and wiped away my tears. I looked at his red rimmed eyes which were smiling at me.
"I love you." He said simply.
"I love you. More than you'll ever know. Kurt, you are strong. You are stronger than anyone I know, including myself. And we're going to get through this." I said. I laid my hand faced up on his bed, inviting him to grab it. And he did. He laced his fingers between mine, and squeezed my palm as we both lay there in silence. We both slowly closed our eyes and drifted off into sleep, my brain frantic about Kurt's comments of self-hatred.
"All faggots are pathetic, but you are the queen of them. Even the girliest of fags wouldn't love you because you're PATHETIC. I have a pathetic ugly cocksucker for a son." And then, in my father's rage, he slapped me across the face, and beat me until I couldn't move. He beat me just short of hospital bound, and he walked away with mom. They'd both go off to bed, and leave me on the ground, bleeding and in pain.
I was somehow instantly in the school now. The kids at school were no different from my parents. I walked up to my locker and saw "cocksucker" written down the side. I opened it up to see all of my book covers had FAG written on them in black sharpie. My notebooks had variations of fat, ugly, and stupid written on them. I grabbed what I needed, trying hard to ignore the comments and shut my locker. I walked down the hallways and a jock knocked my books out of my hand and called me a fag before turning away with a laugh.
I then was sitting at the dinner table with my family in silence. I had a plate full of potatoes, green beans, steak, and carrots. I stuffed a spoon full of potatoes down with the steak and mixed the green beans and carrots together as I shoved them quickly in my mouth. I excused myself from the table after my plate was clean, and ran to my bathroom upstairs. I locked the door behind me, and walked over to the toilet. I opened the lid and knelt down on the ground. I stuck my fingers back in my throat, and let myself vomit. I let everything leave my body, and flushed it down the toilet. No calories, no fat. No fat, no insults on that part of me. I just didn't want to be ugly anymore.
I walked over to the scale and stepped on. 100 it read. One hundred pounds? I'm still so fat! I'm going to have to start puking up every other day. Yeah, that will help. And let's bump up the hour at the gym to an hour and a half. I turned to the full length mirror and stared for a moment before stripping down to only my boxers. I grabbed a black marker from one of the bathroom drawer. My normally tan skin was covered in purple and yellow bruises, and cuts galore. I uncapped the marker and began to write on myself. FAT was written across my stomach. STUPID was written across my forehead. FAG was written on my heart, and across from it was UNLOVED. CUTTER was written on my left wrist. THUNDER was written on one thigh and THIGHS was written on my other. WEAK was written on both of my arms. I don't deserve to live.
My eyes shot open, and I looked to see I was in a hospital room. Kurt was lying in his bed, peacefully asleep. I felt a bead of sweat roll down from my forehead. Why was this all coming back to me now? I had been doing so well. I had been feeling so great.
I pulled my phone from my pocket and glanced at the time. It read 6:30 PM. I heard my stomach growl, and had just realized I hadn't eaten all day. I looked down at my body, still mentally picturing all the words that were once written on my skin. Missing one more meal wouldn't do any harm. I laid back in my chair and closed my eyes once more.
A/N: I know, I'm evil. POOR BLAINE. /3 Okay, I need to go write something fluffy now to cheer me up.
If you have an eating disorder, or know someone who does, PLEASE. Get help. It's more serious than you think. Eating Disorders are a serious issue, and just "eating again" isn't going to make it go away. Getting help is the bravest thing a person can do.