(A/N): I really suck, guys.

I'm so mean. I don't give you these chapters fast enough! And then I give you excuses/reasons. :/ But anyways, it's still customary. This chapter deals a lot with the aftermath from last chapter, and I didn't think it would be a good idea to write about throwing up when I myself was nauseas. I hope you understand. :(

This chapter also gave me trouble. I mean, I knew exactly where I was going. But the words wouldn't work and… Yeah.

And then I, an admitted angst whore, was feasting on the puniest scraps of Klaine fluff to stem the effects of my Klaine withdrawal. I never do that. But I did. And I watched the most beautiful fanvids on this entire freaking currently-Klaineless planet. Go on YouTube and just watch anything by Alibodyrus. Cue fangirl(Or boy. I don't know if males read this. XD)ing. Enjoy.

Oh! And I might be looking for a beta. I know little yet still annoying typos slip through and I want to help avoid those while also getting some more feedback. Any volunteers? :D

Okay! Disclaimer: I don't own Glee. Or it would be all Klaine all the time. When it is, you'll know we have taken over.

Chapter 8: Excuses

But I wasn't listening to him. My reeling brain could only focus on one thing:

"Don't stop yet, it's not all out!"

What?

-:-Kurt-:-

The thought bounced around and around in my head, lingering and echoing and remaining. There was nothing left in my stomach—I was sure I'd thrown up the equivalent to a week of meals—and yet dry heaves still racked my body. My ribs screamed in protest and tears formed rivulets as they traveled down my cheeks.

When the chance arrived, I gasped in a lungful of air, spluttering and shaking. I could still barely register through my disoriented mind that a warm weight still rested on my back: Blaine.

"Kurt, oh my god, Kurt." He muttered worriedly.

"Holy shit, Blaine, is he alright?" Jeff gaped, holding a teary-eyed Nick tightly against his chest.

"Blaine, he looks like he's about to pass out." Nick warned.

It sure felt like I was. My head felt like a heavy, leaden weight yet still spun dizzyingly and felt light as a feather. My mind was jumbled into an unintelligible mass of thoughts. My vision was narrowing, fading into nothing around the edges.

I tried to sort my thoughts out, to single out that lone phrase that struck a nerve. But I couldn't. Not with the constant spinning in my head, the incessant rolling in my stomach, the persistent stabs of pain from my ribs. I realized I was holding my breath as the waves of pain rippled throughout me from various points on my body.

I sucked in a much-needed lungful of air and released my vise-like grip on the edge of the toilet. It seemed like that wasn't the best idea, because without the support I toppled lifelessly to the side.

Blaine cried out as he lunged forward, catching me and cradling my head in his lap. My eyes drifted closed, but I was surprisingly still lucid enough to hear the voices around me, though they mostly came across as a dull roar.

Then one sentence stood out of the surrounding haze. "We have to take him to a hospital or something."

That caught my attention. "No!" I said, more strongly than I would have thought possible. "No! No, no please, no, no…" My eyes flew open, roving over their faces without focusing as my brain spun out of control and my mouth continued to run on autopilot.

My breathing picked up speed as I kept unremittingly mumbling, the only thing I seemed capable of doing in my current state. "No, no, no hospital! No, no, no please, please, no…" Panic bubbled in my chest and my heart skipped a beat. The breaths caught in my throat, making me choke and struggle further.

"Calm down, Kurt, god, please!" Blaine yelled, running his hands soothingly over my face and through my hair, moving my bangs out off of my sweaty forehead. I tried to focus on his face, but all I could manage was a few seconds. The effort was too much. "Breathe slowly with me, now. In, out." I could hear the panic in his voice, the desperation, but he took calm, deliberate breaths. I tried to will my lungs to obey, to follow in suit, but it was more difficult than I imagined.

Eventually, though, the pace of my breaths slowed and was close to what could be considered normal. In accordance with that, my vision was nearly completely consumed by blackness and I felt my limbs growing heavy.

I took in one deep breath and used it to hoarsely whisper, "Blaine, 'm so… tired…"

"I know, baby," Blaine cooed softly, caressing my cheek. "You can sleep now."

-:-Blaine-:-

To put it bluntly, I was scared shitless.

I had no idea what I was doing when it came to a situation like this. I don't know how you care for someone in this way. I had no problems caring about someone, romantically, platonically, or otherwise. I've been told I have an overwhelming instinct to care about people; it's the instinct to care for that I lacked.

Despite that, I did the best I could to help Kurt through the ordeal. I did what my mother would have done for me: rubbing his back, whispering soft, sweet words, and staying there with a supportive presence.

I don't even know what words my mouth was making. I was focused on Kurt. I felt tears spring to my eyes. He looked like he was in so much pain, pain that I could hardly bear to witness. His eyes and facial expressions showed a lingering undertone of fear and desperation, too, and that's what worried me the most.

"Blaine, he looks like he's about to pass out," I faintly heard Nick say. And it was true; his body seemed to tremble and sway dangerously. All at once, he was slumping over to the side.

With a sort of choked exclamation of surprise, I lunged for him, cradling his body to my chest. I settled him against my lap and brushed his sweat-matted hair away from his face.

I looked back at Jeff and Nick where they were huddled at the door to the stall. I must have had some sort of wild look on my face, because Jeff suggested, "We have to take him to a hospital or something."

At those words, Kurt's eyes flew open and his breathing kicked into double time. His eyes shot all round the room, unseeing. All the while he was mumbling frantically "No! No, no please, no, no…"

His level of panic was unprecedented and definitely unexpected. It seems he couldn't get enough air to his lungs, and when he did they caught in his throat, leaving him choking and spluttering with wide, panicked eyes.

"Calm down, Kurt, god, please!" I begged, my hands contradicting the urgency in my words with gentle swipes across his forehead and smooth caresses along his jaw. His breathing was still worryingly erratic, so I calmed my thoughts and focused on calming him. "Breathe slowly with me, now. In, out." I said, grabbing his hand and squeezing.

With those words, his eyes finally met mine, but the focus behind them faded and wavered, even as his breathing began to fall in time with my deep, calculated breaths.

You could sense the change in him instantly. The panic had all but disappeared from him features, but was replaced with sheer exhaustion. His body relaxed and he became almost like a dead weight in my arms. His eyelids fluttered gently, meeting mine for a fleeting second before they fell closed once more, as if the effort was too much. With one deep breath, he hoarsely whispered, "Blaine, 'm so… tired."

My insides just melted. Despite the extremely stressful situation I was currently in, I couldn't hold back a small smile. He was just too adorable for his own good. It made me want to see sleepy Kurt more often. With those thoughts lingering in my mind, I brought a hand gently to his cheek, stroking it with my thumb. "I know, baby," I said, not even realizing that a pet name had slipped through. "You can sleep now."

I now had to figure out what the hell I was going to do with Kurt. Should I take him to a hospital? Is he dehydrated? Should I get him anything? Or should I just take him home, where his dad can look after him?

I looked to Nick and Jeff. "What do we do now?" I whispered urgently, unconsciously hugging Kurt a little tighter against my chest.

Jeff and Nick smiled softly down at the napping Kurt in my lap. "You know, despite the shit that just went down, he really is beautiful in sleep." Nick mused, tilting his head slightly against Jeff's chest.

I smiled. My thoughts exactly.

We stayed there for a few minutes, musing halfheartedly about the best course of action as we tidied up the stall we were accompanying. "You know, maybe we should just ask Kurt." Nick said suddenly, breaking into our argument on which was the closest hospital.

I looked down at the still-slumbering boy in my lap. He snuffled in his sleep, nuzzling his nose against my stomach. My breath hitched, but I tried to pass it off as though it matter, as though it didn't set the butterflies aflutter.

I reached a tentative hand and placed it on his shoulder, squeezing once before giving him a gentle shake. "Kurt?" I said, kind of awkwardly. "Come on, Kurtie…"

His eyes opened, and he blinked up at me blearily. His seemed disoriented and confused, and tried to sit up. He managed for a few seconds, but I could see in his face that the room was spinning and he fell heavily against my side once more.

"Kurt, we've got to know what we're going to do here." Jeff said, crouching down to his eye level.

"No hospital." He said adamantly.

"Okay, then we're just going to take you home so—"

"No!" He shouted, sitting up straight and leaning towards Jeff urgently. "No, no. That's okay."

The three of us shared a confused and slightly suspicious look. Jeff nodded once. "Okay…" He said slowly.

Kurt huffed and flicked his hair away from his eyes. Taking in a steadying breath, he looked around at us three. "I'm fine." He met my eyes. "I'm fine."

"Kurt, you're probably dehydrated and dizzy as hell. You puked up a storm, how could you not be? There's no way your driving home like this." Jeff said bluntly.

Kurt's noise scrunched (adorably) at Jeff's elegant word choices. He swallowed once and grimaced, bringing a hand to his throat. "Okay, what if you get me some water?"

"And?" I prompted.

"And we see how I feel after that." Kurt relented. He leaned back a little bit, settling against my chest. I held back a sigh of contentment and smiled. A few seconds later, Kurt seemed to realize exactly what—or who—he was leaning against.

"Oh god, Blaine! I-I'm sorry, I d-didn't mean to—" He started to apologize frantically, pulling himself away from me and hugging his knees to his chest.

I frowned a bit from the loss of his body warmth and presence. I also noticed the absence of a light hint of vanilla in the air—a scent that must have been coming from Kurt. In fact, now that he had moved, I realized just how good Kurt smelled. It was like a touch of coffee with a hint of vanilla and an underlying scent that I could only describe as pure Kurt. Now that it was gone, my nostrils were filled with the scent of public restroom.

"No, you're fine." I assured him with a smile, though I wished I could take him back into my arms and never let go. "It's no problem whatsoever. What are friends for, right?"

-:-Kurt-:-

I still couldn't believe I had found a friend like Blaine. A friend who held me and comforted me on the floor of a public restroom as I puked my guts out. I did nothing to deserve this. In fact, with everything I've done and everything I am, I deserve the exact opposite. But by some twist of fate, he's still here, looking into my eyes and brushing my bangs away from my face as he handed me a glass of water.

I leant back against the wall of the stall, tentatively taking a sip of the water. I couldn't hold back a grimace as the cool water went down my raw, parched throat. As the three Dalton boys fell into a different conversation, I let my mind wander.

Well, this sucked. This wasn't the most opportune time to get sick, to put it lightly. And it definitely didn't improve my day at all. Also, now that I thought of it, it had ruined the evenings of Nick and Jeff, who were probably hoping to spend it chatting lightly over a delicious meal, holding hands and sneaking kisses. Not huddled in a public restroom to watch this guy that they had just met be violently ill.

Great. Just another thing I've royally screwed up.

Upon a prompting glance from Blaine, I took another sip of the water. It hurt less this time. The faint, lingering burning in my throat brought my thoughts back to the situation as a whole. I dropped my head back, closing my eyes. I really did not need to be sick right now. Because that's all this was; a bug. Nothing more, nothing less. It would blow over in a day or two, and I would be fine.

But my mind couldn't help but dredge up some things I'd rather not linger on; I couldn't stop them. My thoughts drifted over the fact that I had, in fact, gotten sick pretty conveniently. I had just eaten that entire plate of food. The sickness got rid of it all, leaving me to not have to worry about extra calories or hours in the gym.

I latched onto this idea. It seemed like it could potentially solve the problem that has arisen lately. Blaine is getting… suspicious about my lack of eating. If he digs too far into it, he could get the wrong idea and then completely ruin all my progress. I can't have him interfering if I am to be perfect. For my dad's sake. This way, I would be able to eat around people, around Blaine, and then get rid of it. No one would know, except me. It meant control, power, perfection.

I shook my head sharply, taking another sip, and another. I couldn't do that. Perfect people didn't do that. I knew this, I did! But I couldn't keep my thoughts away for too long, and the pros started stacking up, outweighing the cons that I forced myself to create.

I gave up the battle, completely shutting that sector of my brain off instead of surrendering. I couldn't go down that path; it had too many risks, too many consequences. I couldn't do that if I wanted to truly reach my goal.

So I drank my water, calmed my thoughts and pulled up the ever-present façade. Soon the glass in my hand was empty, and Blaine broke out of the conversation about song choices for Regionals. "How are you feeling?" He asked, coming over to sit next to me.

I sighed. "Better." I looked down, and I could feel my cheeks heat up. "I-I'm sorry you had to… see that."

Blaine shook his head and placed a hand comfortingly on my shoulder. "Really, Kurt. It's no big deal. Besides, you couldn't help it that you got sick."

Yes, Kurt. You're just sick, is all.

It took a fair bit of arguing and convincing, but I got Blaine to agree to let me drive myself home. I don't know what my dad would say if I was dropped off by another boy, especially after the encounter we just had. Not that it mattered. I had no intention of going home today.

"Do you want me to… follow you home? Just to make sure you get in alright." Blaine said with a faint blush on his cheeks.

I shook my head. "No one's at home right now. I was actually going to go to my friend Mercedes' house." I said, coming up with it on the spot. There, Mercedes wouldn't mind one bit if I came over. That, and as much as she denies it, she loves to play nurse with me. I've sure done it enough times to her.

"Oh, okay." Blaine said nodding. "Well, um, could you text me when you get there?"

I smiled. Blaine was so cute when he was flustered and worried. Flustered and worried about you, a small part of my brain chirped. My smile grew a little wider, and I dropped my gaze from his warm gray eyes. "Y-Yeah, sure."

I stood up from the floor, and immediately my body protested. My head pounded, my stomach lurched, and my ribs exploded with pain. I leant against the wall for support and waited for the roaring in my ears to die down. "Kurt?" I heard. "Are you sure you're okay?"

"Yeah, I'm fine." I said, forcing a small smile. "The blood just hasn't gotten back to my legs yet."

I made a show of shaking and rubbing my legs, as if I was halting the take over of pins and needles. The three of them laughed, and I was just glad they had taken the bait. After what I had deemed an acceptable length of time, I straightened up slowly.

Blaine and I headed out to the cars and Nick and Jeff stopped by the table to pay the check as they had insisted. The trip was filled with Blaine's frantic worries and my light-hearted reassurances—that didn't reassure Blaine at all.

"You'd say you were fine even if you weren't." Blaine protested when I once again answered his inquiries with the same phrase.

While that was true, I didn't see how he could know that. I turned to him cryptically. "And how would you k—?"

"The migraine." Blaine cut in with a tight smile. I averted my eyes. Oh. "That was just earlier today, Kurt. It's not as if it's old news."

It felt like it was so long ago, though. So much has happened today, just thinking about it made my head spin. So many things that shouldn't be able to fit into the span of twenty-four hours, but have seemed to manage. And the best part? Not one of them was good.

I sighed, my eyes feeling heavy. I just wanted to sleep off what could be officially and not at all exaggeratedly the worst day ever.

Blaine came up beside me, halting my footsteps with a light hand on my forearm. Trying to hold back a blush, I turned to him. "Kurt," he said with a light chuckle, "I know it's been an extremely long day, and I'm sorry if I'm getting on your nerves or something, but…" he hesitated and seemed to grab for words. "I'm worried about you, okay? A lot of things have happened today." He paused again. "Look, I consider you my closest friend, despite the fact that we met maybe two weeks ago and that's crazy."

I smiled. It's amazing, truly, that we could be on the same page. I really was so lucky to have found someone like Blaine. He returned my smile and I could feel my insides melt and shudder, but in the good way. I was thankful he couldn't read my mind right now, because my thoughts were an incoherent mass of Blaine and how one day I would have to gather the courage to ask him what color his beautiful eyes were.

He continued with that small, tentative smile still on his face. "I just don't want you to get hurt, or be hurting in any way, okay? I care about you. A lot." His voice sounded almost choked here, and I wanted nothing more than to lean forward and capture those lips in a kiss. But he continued and I stopped myself before I did anything stupid. "I just want you to reiterate that… that I'm here for you, okay?" he finished.

I really couldn't stop a tear from slowly making its way down my face. I nodded my head and looked at Blaine. His eyes shimmered in the soft evening sun and I once again found my thoughts drifting away. I sniffed and swiped at my cheeks as a few more tears joined the first. "Thank you, Blaine." I whispered. "It means a lot. More than you could know."

He pulled me to his chest, and I could no longer deny that this is what it truly felt like to be home.

Nick and Jeff's arrival ended the hug and the heart felt speeches. After a few short conversations, it was determined, rather reluctantly on my part, that Blaine would follow me to Mercedes' to make sure I was safe. Nick and Jeff would return to Dalton, but insisted that one of us texted them that I was okay. While it was unnecessary, it felt nice to have at least one small group of people who cared.

The departure was paired with hugs and well-wishes, and Blaine and I were soon on the familiar route to Mercedes' house. I spent most of the drive in silence, fighting off the barrage of my own thoughts with the focus of driving.

As I was turning onto the exit, I glanced into my rearview mirror to check that Blaine was still there. I smiled. He was looking to his left, but I could still see his mouth moving along to whatever song was playing on the radio. Katy Perry, most likely. I scoffed and shook my head.

Sooner than I had expected, I found myself parked in Mercedes' driveway. I got out of the car, and a wave of exhaustion hit me all at once. I was greatly looking forward to the opportunity to do nothing but sleep.

I heard Blaine's footsteps behind me. "You look absolutely beat." He said teasingly.

"I think I have a right." I said, and punctuated it with a yawn. Blaine just giggled as we rang the doorbell and waited on the porch.

Thankfully, it was Mercedes who opened the door. "Kurt? Is everything okay?" She asked immediately. I frowned. I must look worse off than I thought.

Her concern-filled eyes shifted over my shoulder to where Blaine was standing awkwardly a few feet behind me. "And you are?" She directed towards him with a hint of protectiveness seeping into her voice.

"Blaine. Blaine Anderson. I'm a friend of Kurt's from school." Blaine answered with his disarmingly charming smile.

I could see her cool exterior melt just the slightest and she turned back to me. "Well?"

By this point, I really couldn't handle standing much longer. My head was pulsing with my rapid heartbeat, my eyes could barely stay open, and my knees were shaking. "Mercedes, I really need to lie down." I said kind of urgently as the ground slanted sickeningly underneath me.

Both Blaine and Mercedes rushed forward to grab hold of my arms and led me to the sofa. I plopped down gratefully and listened to the conversation between my two favorite people.

"So do you mind telling me what the hell is going on?" Mercedes snapped.

"I took Kurt out to dinner and he got sick." Blaine answered calmly. "He also had a pretty shitty day at school and dance rehearsal, and I'm pretty sure he hasn't eaten anything all day."

I opened my eyes just as Mercedes looked to me. "White boy, I am going to take you up to my room where you are going to sleep. And when you wake up, I'm going to make you the best god damned chicken soup you'll ever have."

Blaine smiled. "I see you're in good hands. I really must be going if I'm going to make curfew." Blaine said politely, backing towards the door and extracting his phone from his blazer pocket. His voice softened almost imperceptibly. "Goodnight, Kurt. Take care of yourself."

I heard the click of the door closing and felt Mercedes settle by my feet. I struggled into a semi-sitting position and waited.

"Under any other circumstances, I would threaten you until you explained to me why the hottest hunk of prep school just brought you home from dinner." She said playfully. "But instead, I'm going to take you upstairs and get you ready for bed."

I sighed, swiping a hand across my eyes. "Thank you, Cedes. I'm sorry for imposing—"

"Stop right there, Kurtie." She cut in. "You're not imposing and you know it." She stood up and helped me to my feet. "Now, enough chit-chat. You best get yourself some sleep."

The world faded back into focus very gradually. First came the realization that I was awake, and next the sound of birds chirping outside the window. Soon enough I could feel the soft sheets entangling my legs and the numbness that held my body in place. My thoughts were still very much asleep, and I had to wait for them to catch up before I could regain the ability to move. I stretched sluggishly, sitting up slowly and prying my eyes open.

What I saw shocked me, bringing me that much closer to lucidity. I was in Mercedes' bedroom. I could feel the panic about to set in when my mind helpfully brought up the memories from the horrendous day before. With a groan, I sunk back into the welcoming warmth of the bed.

I sucked in a deep breath, relishing the contentment of a good night's sleep. Then I hesitated, noticing an odd taste lingering on my tongue. It tasted a little like broth. I looked to the nightstand to see an empty bowl that must have held chicken noodle soup.

Before I could even fully regain the memory, I was in front of the toilet in Mercedes' en suite bathroom, fighting back tears as heaves wracked my body. Each gag was sharp and painful, like a knife slicing straight through my ribcage and carving into my stomach. I coughed roughly and desperately sucked in air after the heaves subsided. When I was left sweating in silence once more, I heard someone pounding up the stairs.

"Kurt? Kurt!" Moments later, the bathroom door flew open to reveal a frazzled Mercedes. I was just about to utter the customary 'I'm fine', but instead I gagged harshly once more, leaving me panting and sweating and I frantically tried to catch my breath.

I took a second to gather my scrambled thoughts before I could even register the feel of Mercedes' hand on my back or the coolness of the washcloth she pressed to my forehead. "Oh, Kurtie!" She fussed, rubbing soothing circles into my back.

I swallowed, and cried out at the sharp twinge of pain from my raw throat. I heard Cedes mumbling to herself and I let my eyes slip closed. A few moments later, I felt a glass pressed to my lips. I drank the liquid—organic apple juice, my favorite—obediently. She sent me back to bed after making sure that would stay down, coming back a few minutes later with some tablets to calm my stomach.

This sickness was really getting on my nerves. All it accomplished was making those around me worried and making myself worry about creating messes everywhere I go. Not to mention that throwing up isn't exactly the most pleasant of activities.

Don't forget the benefits. A voice in my head hissed tauntingly just as the last threads of consciousness slipped from my grasp, and I was encompassed in the gentle darkness of sleep.

I woke up a few hours later, feeling less rested but also less nauseous. My eyes shot to the nightstand before my brain could catch up. On top of the cherry wood table was nothing except an empty glass and a bottle of pills.

Relief flooded through my system. Now I won't have to throw anything up, I thought. Wait, no. Now I wouldn't have anything to throw up. My brain was still addled from sleep and illness. I convinced myself that was the only reason for my word confusion.

The door opened with a creak, and was soon followed by a voice. "Great, you're up. How're you feeling, boo?"

I smiled up at Mercedes. "Better. I—" I paused to clear my throat and rid my voce of its harsh, gravelly tone. "I think it's passed."

"It better." She chirped, poking my arm lightly. "Not just for my sake, but for yours. That did not look fun, white boy."

I raised an eyebrow at her. "No. Sorry, Cedes! That's my new favorite hobby." I said sarcastically. Mercedes laughed, but I could only force a chuckle as a feeling of wrongness flooded through me. Those words didn't feel right at all, like I'd struck a nerve of some sort.

I didn't have time to ponder long before Mercedes was gently pulling me out of the bed. "Come on. Let's get some food in you."

I didn't have to worry too much; my tender stomach couldn't handle anything too strong, and Mercedes knew that. She coaxed me into eating a piece of toast and a few slices of banana.

We spent the next little while chatting lightly about nothing incredibly important. I knew I was just on watch again, but I didn't care. I too hoped this annoying illness had passed and would leave me be. I had goals to tend to and couldn't have it getting in my way.

The conversation died down quickly. We sat in a semi-awkward silence before I piped up. "Well, hopefully this means it's all over with."

Mercedes chuckled. "Here's hoping. I should probably be taking you home now, yeah?"

"No, you don't have to do that." I shook my head. "I'm fine enough to drive." I smiled at her. Really, it was all appreciated. But I had a lot of things to work out myself. Plus, the longer I waited, the worse my punishment would be. "I'm fine, Cedes."

"Don't you lie to me, white boy!" She said with a playful smile, but her eyes were serious.

"Really, Cedes. My dad must be… worrying about me. I have to go." A bubble of panic gurgled in my chest as I faced the realization: I had to go home and face the music. Hopefully he wouldn't even be there, or at least too drunk to care. Or maybe, if luck was on my side, he had even forgotten.

She nodded. "Yeah, he called while you were asleep. He didn't sound very happy."

(A/N): So? Thoughts? I'm kind of nervous about this chapter, because (due partially to the request of rooz33) I tried to get deeper into their thoughts. Primarily Kurt. And I don't know how I did with it.

Speaking of, super special thanks and hugs to rooz33! A super inspiring review does wonders for the muse. ;)

BE WARNED. Some serious shit is going to hit some fans within the next couple chapters, if you couldn't tell by my cliffy. I am very excited. XD And also worried. All of us will just be anxiously awaiting the next chapter. :S

Oh, and thank you all! The response to this story has been way more than I'd ever imagined. It's beginning to rival Dalton: Witnessed in review count. Except these reviews tend to be longer and meaningful and complimentary and extremely fangirl-inducing. SO yeah, enough rambles.

THANK YOU.

~DFTBA and Best Wishes!