6

Lost in Darkness

Wrapped in warm, tender arms, his cologne sweetly overwhelming, Kurt was unbelievable comfortable. He sat on this park bench, one of Blaine's arms snaked around his waist, the other holding his hand. He sighed, content and comfortable.

Blaine was still astounded that he felt this way about Kurt, and that he was allowing him to hold him like this. He was never one for intimacy. He didn't hug and the word cuddle wasn't anywhere near his vocabulary, and he was sure if one of his friends somehow miraculously came by he make up some excuse as to why he was sitting this way. However, for the time being, he would stay right here with him and be damn happy about it.

"You still cold?" He wondered.

"No," he shook his head. "Are you cold?" Blaine shook his head, fighting the urge to stroke his cheek made pink by the cool night wind. He took slow, deep breaths, knowing Kurt probably felt his pounding heart. He'd been staring at his lips all night, and was doing so even now, wanting desperately to try and kiss him again.

"Hey, Blaine?" Kurt asked, interrupting his thoughts.

"Yeah?" He said, clearing his throat.

"What is this? Us, I mean?" He said softly.

"What do you mean?" He said, confused.

"Are…are we together, are we dating, are we going to be together, is this just a fling, what?" He asked, slightly afraid of the answer. Blaine swallowed.

"I…I hoped we could get together, ya know, after we know each other better," he said. "I wanted to take this slow, in case…in case you didn't want me around."

"Oh," Kurt said softly, wondering how on earth Blaine could possibly think he didn't want to be with him. "Slow is good," he assured. Blaine smiled, looking at him. He was slouched against his chest, cheeks getting pinker by the minute, his skin so soft and beautiful, and he wanted nothing more than to kiss those plump, tempting lips in front of him. He lifted his chin, trying to keep his breath steady. Kurt swallowed hard, knowing what was coming.

He felt his eyes close as Blaine's warmth drew closer, body tensing, sensing Blaine drawing closer. His fingers searched desperately for something to hold onto, gripping the first thing they came to, Blaine's wrists.

The dark-haired boy froze when Kurt gasped and leaned back, eyes wide. Blaine's nostrils flared as he jerked away from him, terrified.

"Blaine," Kurt breathed. "Blaine, what is that?"

"Nothing," he spat instantly. "It's nothing, leave it alone."

"Blaine, do-"

"Drop it, Kurt!"

"Do you cut yourself?" He asked, voice gentle. Blaine stood, fuming.

"I said shut up!" He bellowed. Kurt winced, trying to reach for him.

"Blaine, it's okay, we can talk about this-"

"There's nothing to talk about!" He was yelling at him, and Kurt was caught between being defensive and being upset. "It's none of your goddamn business, okay?" The pale boy could only stare at him, ignoring the verbal abuse, just trying to help.

"Blaine, if you need help there's people-"

"I'M NOT GOING TO A FUCKING SHRINK!" He snarled. "JUST DROP IT!"

"I'm just trying to help!" Kurt retorted, angry tears in his eyes. Blaine glowered at him.

"I don't need help from a fuckin' cripple," he growled. He regretted it as soon as he said it, but there was no way he could take that back. "Kurt-"

He stood with dignity, tears on his face, but his voice was completely steady as he spoke. "I'm not a cripple," he said, fists clenched. "So FUCK YOU!" He stalked off, well aware of where he was and how to get home from there. He waited until Blaine was well out of earshot before he sobbed aloud, face in his hands.

The criminal watched his retreating back, his heart thudding as it cracked painfully. He was gone. He wasn't coming back.

"FUCK!" He bellowed, slamming his fist into a tree beside him.

YOU DUMB MOTHERFUCKER! Two weeks, two FUCKIN' WEEKS and you already screw it up? What the fuck is wrong with you? HE'S NEVER COMING BACK! He punched the tree over and over again, not allowing himself to feel anything else other than the physical pain he was causing himself. Pain he deserved, injuries he deserved.

Kurt was gone. He'd scared an angel away without giving a damn. He'd made that angel cry. He did that.

He continued to hit the tree even after his knuckles started to bleed. Even after they were split down to the bone.

"Kurt, what's wrong?"

"Nothing!"

"Kurt-"

"I'm fine, Dad! Just…just leave me alone…" His voice died off in a whisper as he continued up the stairs, shutting the door to his room. He collapsed on his bed, sobbing hard and hugging his pillow tight. Him and his big mouth.

Everything would have been perfect if you hadn't said anything!

"He-he called me-"

I know, I know, he did. But damn it, Kurt, he was scared. That didn't make it hurt less. His heart throbbed, eyes watering. He'd gotten used to not crying himself to sleep every night, since he'd met Blaine, but it was back, now. The same routine he'd been doing for nearly ten years.

He'd let the first guy he was allowed to fall for go. He fell back into his pillow, squeezing it as if it were a person that could take all of his troubles away.

"Blaine, what did you do this time?" Dr. Alberts said. Blaine said nothing, staring down at his bloodied hands, jaw set. She took his hand, turning it over. "You're gonna need stitches, and a lot of them." He shrugged, unfazed, uncaring.

He hadn't said a word since he came in here, and since they knew him so well at this corner free clinic he didn't have to. He needed five stitches per knuckle. He denied anesthesia, barely making a sound besides an occasional hiss as she worked.

"So who'd you fight?" She said softly.

"No one," he croaked, voice hoarse. She frowned.

"Well, you had to tear up your hands somehow," she urged. He shook his head. It wasn't any of her business what he did, or why he did it.

"Just stitch me up and stop playing twenty questions," he said darkly. She pursed her lips and continued.

"Do you want some antibiotics?" She wondered. "It'll help with the pain."

"My friends'll take 'em," he said, shaking his head.

"Blaine-"

"I'll be fine," he said sharply, voice never rising. She wrapped up his hands, still wondering if he was ever going to talk to her.

"Boy troubles?" She ventured, finishing the wrap. His eyes flicked up to her for the first time, glaring at her. She looked right back at him, unfazed. She was used to Blaine, she was used to people worse than Blaine too, but she knew how violent he could get. She kept her tone neutral. "I'm just wondering, not prying. You don't have to talk to me, Blaine."

"Yeah," he said after a long pause, looking at the floor. "I fucked up." He stood, grabbing his coat.

"He might forgive you, you know," she offered. He paused, his back to her so she wouldn't see the flash of agony cross his features.

"No," he whispered, remembering the look on his face. "No, he won't."

"Kurt!"

He kept walking.

"Kurt, wait up!"

Still ignoring him.

"Kurt," Finn skidded to a halt in front of him.

"I'm really not in the mood for an 'I told you so' moment, Finn, so leave me alone," he said firmly, walking around him.

"That's not what I wanted," Finn assured. "I wanted to know if you were okay." Kurt felt tears welling in his eyes again, which only pissed him off at this juncture.

"I'm fine," he spat. "Now…just…God, just leave me alone," he sounded weary as he spoke and stalked away, only growing more upset when he was tripped. He fell, knowing Finn wasn't there to help him up. No one would. He curled into himself against the lockers, breathing slow to calm himself down, wondering why his life had to suck so much.

He carefully pushed himself off the floor, only to be knocked back down again. He sobbed once, a tear escaping to his face. It had only been a few days, but…

He missed Blaine.

"Who the fuck is this?" Blaine spat as he stepped into the choir room. The strange boy turned, smirking, something sparking in his eyes when he saw him. Blaine looked at the newcomer, sizing him up. He was taller than him, lean, brown hair, green eyes. Under different circumstances, Blaine would've tried to get with this guy. Well, in bed, anyway.

The boy extended his hand, still smirking. "Sebastian Smythe."