8

Now I've Seen the Light

Four days. It'd been four days since Blaine had seen Kurt at school, and the lack of seeing that sweet porcelain hurt his chest, which pissed him off, which is probably why he was drinking so much so fast.

"You might wanna slow down, dude," Trent advised, swaying a little in the doorway.

"I'll drink however fast I want!" He slurred. "So…fuck you." He broke into a fit of giggles. Wes shook his head, equally as messed up.

"I think he's fine as long as he doesn't drive his bike through the kitchen again," he said pointedly. "Thad was SO pissed!" He cackled.

"So, Blaine," David asked, grinning stupidly behind his Solo cup. "This drunken escapade wouldn't have anything to do with Sightless?"

"None of your business!" He spat. "But yeah…"

"Aw, who needs him!" Nick said. "You've got Smythe!" He nodded behind him. Blaine looked, watching Sebastian smirk while talking to some girl that was invited to the party as well, continually glancing over at him.

He's talking about me, he thought, wishing he gave a shit.

"I don't like him," he said plainly.

"Why not?" Thad exclaimed, looking up from his girlfriend's neck for the first time in twenty minutes.

Blaine shrugged. "I dunno. He's cute, sure, but…"

But he's not Kurt.

"But…?" Wes urged, smacking the back of Thad's head as he started making out again beside him on the couch.

"But I'm tired of having flings that don't matter," he said truthfully. "I'm sick of being with a guy for a few good fucks and then we're done. And that's all Smythe wants from me. He ain't gonna get it though," he snorted.

"It's kinda pathetic how much he wants your dick, man," Nick giggled. Blaine smiled, taking another shot.

"I don't know. Maybe I should just go for it. Kurt doesn't want anything to do with me," he sighed, leaning his head back. "I don't think letting Smythe suck my dick'll make me feel better, though."

"Why don't you talk to Kurt?" Jeff suggested. "Ya know, if you like him so much."

"I tried talking to him. His fucking Behemoth brother wouldn't let me anywhere near him, and he won't answer my texts or my phone calls," he sighed. "He doesn't want me."

"Then you should totally give up," Wes snorted. "You're not a pussy at all if you don't keep trying. And no one ever changes their mind after they've been given time to think about how bad it really was. Nah, you're right, you should fuck Smythe."

Blaine stared at his drunken friend, surprised by his wisdom while so heavily intoxicated.

"That was deep, man," Nick chortled.

"Yeah, Socrates, you should write a book," David snorted.

"I'm gonna call him," Blaine nodded, standing, then falling back into the chair.

"You might wanna sober up first," Thad said pointedly. "That way you really don't do anything stupid."

"I'm not gonna say anything stupid," he assured. The Warblers laughed. "What?"

"Sorry, Blaine, but you tend to do a lot of stupid shit when you're drunk," Trent remarked. The others nodded. Blaine scoffed, folding his arms as if to challenge them.

"Like what?" He demanded. They exchanged glances.

"Well," Jeff began, "how about the time you bet us all fifty bucks that you could walk off the roof without hurting yourself?"

"Or that you could race through traffic on a shopping cart?"

"Or screaming, 'LOOK AT ME LIKE THAT AGAIN AND I'LL DONATE YOU TO THE NFL!' at a group of cops in front of the police station."

"Alright! I get it," he sighed. "I'll sober up, then I'll call him. I'm telling you, he won't pick up."

"Fifty bucks says he will," Wes challenged. Blaine rolled his eyes, his stomach feeling that pang as he spoke.

"No, he won't."

Wash your face…You have to stop crying if you're going to do that. God, why do you keep crying?

"I don't know," he said, swallowing hard. He knew damn good and well Blaine certainly wasn't this upset. He wasn't crying right now, and he probably wasn't lonely, either. He'd probably moved on to someone else that wouldn't turn him away or act like a coward.

He shook his head, dabbing his eyes and trying again to get his face cleaned. He was already too far behind on his routine to go to bed at a decent hour, not that it would matter anyway. He hadn't spoken to Finn in days, ignoring his father when he asked what had happened, telling him he didn't want to talk about it and if he really wanted to know he could ask Finn. He was quiet in school and in Glee club. The funny thing was no one seemed to notice that he was quiet, or that he looked positively miserable all the time.

My friends really suck, he thought miserably. None of them had even noticed the bullying growing worse every day, or the three slushies he'd received just this week alone.

He bowed his head. He could bear it much better if he didn't feel so alone.

Blaine had called him a cripple in a fit of anger and fear, he knew that. But the tone of his voice, the malice that voice held, like he wanted it to hurt as much as possible. That's what kept him from him. That and pride.

Blind, not desperate, he assured himself. You don't need a boy to be happy.

Something about Blaine made him want to throw that philosophy and do whatever it took to be with him. Something about Blaine gave him goosebumps whenever he came near. Something made him feel so right being incredibly close to him when he'd known him for a short amount of time.

He shook his head.

Stop being such a pathetic loser, he scolded. I understand that you are one, nothing but a pathetic, lonely little boy and your only friends are just as bad but do you really have to act like this? You're lucky he wasted this much time on you. Now forget it. Lie to yourself and say that you're better than him and move on.

He nodded tearing up again, throwing down the bottle of moisturizer in his hand, giving up and collapsing on his bed, shutting his eyes and crying silently, not wanting to startle his father.

Suddenly his phone went off on the nightstand beside him. "Text from Blaine," it announced in a robotic voice.

He sat up, staring in its direction, dumbfounded. "Text from Blaine," it repeated. He ignored it.

No, loser.

Then it started to ring.

"Call from Blaine."

"Damn it," he breathed, shaking his head.

Three times. Blaine called three times, sending a text between each one.

"Kurt, please, listen to me for a second!" He bowed his head, remembering the excruciating sincerity in his voice. He swallowed hard, heart catching when his phone went to voicemail again.

"If he calls again, I'll answer," he swore, nodding. Praying only to the deepest part of him in a voice so quiet he wasn't sure if he'd allowed the thought or not.

Please call.

Blaine dug his head into the wall behind him, fighting the urge to slam it as hard as he could. He shut his eyes, digging the corner of his phone into his temple. "C'mon, Kurt, c'mon…" He begged, waiting for an answer to a text message, or even a phone call.

One ring, just one, that's all he was asking for, something to let him know that Kurt hadn't totally given up on him.

He waited, and waited. But God damn it all nothing happened. His phone stayed silent, mocking him with it's muted speaker. Lifeless.

He felt that hollowness in his stomach creep back in again, the emptiness that was there before Kurt was here. The cold, harsh, vacant wasteland that was his heart, jaded and coated in stone. He didn't want to feel like that again. He didn't want Kurt to be gone. He wanted to say he was sorry and maybe, maybe get another chance to kiss him like he deserved.

But his phone said nothing, sitting in his hand like a plastic rock that accomplished absolutely nothing.

One more time, he thought. Just call him one more time.

He shook his head, the cold wind biting at him, as if it knew the guilt he had and the horrible thing he'd done to this boy that he so desperately wanted to talk to. The party raged on inside, loud and pulsating against the windows. There was no doubt in his mind that his friends had totally forgotten about the advice they'd given him a few hours ago, or that Sebastian still wasn't waiting by the drinks right where he'd walked away from him.

He swallowed, looking down.

Sebastian would be easier, he told himself. You're used to Sebastians. No real feelings, no real commitment, just someone to get off with that'll suck your dick without question. Kurt won't do that. Kurt will take time, and work and patience. God only knows when you can fuck him.

No, he shook his head, heart wrenching. No, I don't want that. I don't want to do that to him. I don't want to fuck him. I want to hold him and kiss him and hear him talk. I want a real relationship for once, not that same-old bullshit. It's real with Kurt. Something…something's amazingly different with Kurt. I want that.

"I want Kurt," he whispered, flipping open his phone and dialing rapidly.

Kurt sat up, diving for his phone when it rang again. He didn't need the voice to tell him who it was, this time. He knew.

"Hello?" He said, voice strangely secure.

"Kurt! Kurt, please, please listen to me. Just for a second," he pleaded. The countertenor remained silent, unable to form the words. "Kurt, I'm sorry. I'm so fucking sorry, you have to know that. Please forgive me. I know what I did was terrible but…but I didn't mean it. I was angry and I acted like such a goddamn coward. I-I should be shot for what I said to you," he paused, taking a deep breath and swallowing. "I'm not asking you to keep considering me as your boyfriend anymore. I know I fucked up too badly for that to happen. But please, you have to know that I am so fucking sorry for hurting you. Please, Kurt, forgive me."

Kurt was silent for a moment, trying to force his tongue to form coherent words. "Blaine…" He finally said, his heart gaining speed as he spoke the name. "I forgive you." He gave an audible sigh of relief, waiting patiently for the angel to speak again. "And," he smiled to himself, "you're only on strike two."

Blaine grinned stupidly, so relieved. "Yeah?" Was all he could manage.

"Yeah," Kurt breathed.

"Where are you right now?" Blaine asked. He wanted to see him. No, he had to see him, right now. He couldn't wait, not after being away from him for almost a week.

"I-in my room," he said, unsure of why Blaine was asking.

"Is your dad home?"

"Yeah, he's asleep. Everybody is."

"Would you object to me coming to see you right now?" He asked, an edge of want in his voice. Kurt's breath caught, heart thudding.

"You'll have to sneak through my window." Who said that? Did he say that? No, no, surely not. He wouldn't say that.

But you did.

"Okay," Blaine said softly. "I'll be there in twenty minutes."

"Hurry," Kurt whispered.

Blaine bolted back into the house, snatching the keys to his bike and his jacket.

"Whoa, where's the fire?" Jeff asked.

"I'm goin' to see Kurt," he said gruffly, masking his happiness.

"Aw, that's too bad," Sebastian pouted, coming up behind him. Wes rolled his eyes while Nick made a fake gagging sound. "I was gonna ask you to dance."

"Sorry," Blaine said, though he sounded anything but as he worked his way back to the front door.

"Hey, c'mon," he said, grabbing his sleeve. "One dance won't kill you." Blaine shrugged out of his grip, twisting the knob.

"In the infamous words of one of my favorite artists, it's just you and your hand tonight." He left, leaving the rest of the Warblers cackling with laughter.

Kurt's breath stuttered when he heard a light knock on his window, too soft to disturb anyone with normal hearing. He tried not to rush, easing the window open, instantly assaulted by the smell of this boy's skin and hair.

"Hi," Blaine whispered, incredibly close once to him once he was standing.

"Hi," Kurt repeated, chest tight. The darker brunette gingerly put his hands on his waist, noting the blush that rose to his cheeks as well as his own.

The countertenor became suddenly aware that he was in nothing but a paper-thin undershirt and sweats…and Blaine's hands were on his waist, warm and calloused. "I'm so sorry, Kurt,"

"Don't," he said softly, touching his lips. "It's okay."

His eyes were still red and swollen, and as his eyes traveled to the bed, Blaine could see the tear-stains on his pillow as well. He took of his jacket, the room stifling, before he wrapped Kurt in his arms, the guilt almost choking him. He smiled gently when he rested his cheek against his chest, thin fingers running through his thick hair.

He pulled away after a moment, guiding the ruffian to sit down on his bed, their hands linked together. "Kurt, can…" Blaine whispered, touching his chin. Kurt swallowed, his blind eyes shining in the faint glow of the streetlamp outside. Blaine sighed, taking a moment to appreciate just how gorgeous he was.

"What?"

"Can I kiss you now?" The air left his lungs, realizing that this boy, this one right here, wanted to kiss him. And God he wanted him to.

He didn't bother with an answer. He just started leaning toward him, closing his eyes as an afterthought, wanting to focus on nothing but feeling Blaine.

The criminal's heart thundered, swelling to a painful size. He felt Kurt's shaking breath against his face as he got closer, smelling his toothpaste and the lotion on his skin. He cupped his cheek, thumbing the softer-than-silk skin. Kurt's hands clenched the blanket beneath him, his whole body shaking. Their foreheads touched, noses brushing.

Then he kissed him. His lips were warm, careful and so gentle. His heart pounded so hard it hurt.

I'm kissing a boy, I'm kissing a boy, I'm kissing a boy! He thought manically.

Blaine was lost in this incredibly soft skin, his free hand wrapping around his waist to bring him closer. He moaned in surprise when Kurt deepened the kiss, sliding a careful but surprisingly skilled tongue in his mouth. He jumped back after a moment, looking up at him.

"Your tongue's pierced?" Kurt breathed, a blush high on his cheeks.

"Yeah," Blaine chuckled. Kurt grabbed his face, crushing their lips together again, fingers tangling in his curls, kissing heatedly with a passion that Blaine always knew he had.

They didn't break apart for what felt like hours, gasping for air, lips red and swollen.

"Can you stay here for a little while?" Kurt breathed, wanting him close. Blaine nodded.

"I'll stay here until you fall asleep," he nodded, laying down with him, holding him. "I'm still sorry, Kurt."

He shook his head, nuzzling his face into his chest. "Don't worry about it."

Blaine rubbed his back and his forehead, trying to remind himself that this was anything but a dream. A few hours ago he was sure that Kurt would never want anything to do with him. Now he was rocking him to sleep, rubbing his forehead, which he kissed several times and holding him gently.

He started to sing softly, lulling him further. A smile tugged at the corner of his mouth.

"Katy Perry?" He whispered sleepily. Blaine shrugged, giving an embarrassed smile.

"It's a guilty pleasure," he admitted. Kurt shut his eyes again, settling back into his arms.

"Don't stop."

"You make me feel like I'm living a teenage dream. The way you turn me on. I can't sleep, let's run away and don't ever look back, don't ever look back…"