25

Under a Blanket

Blaine ran, and ran, and ran, constantly searching and yelling. "KURT!" Strangers eyed him warily, and he didn't blame them. A mussed, pierced boy dressed in day-old ripped jeans, boots and a studded leather jacket was enough to send them to the other side of the street already. He was actually surprised the police hadn't been called yet. "Damn it, baby, where are you?"

Kurt hated the snow, he'd told him that at the beginning of the week when flurries had started to dance around the courtyard.

"It muffles everything," he said. "It's like a silencer for the world. The house gets quiet, like putting a pillow over your head and hiding under a blanket."

He was scared, much more afraid than he'd been in some time. Where would he go? Why wouldn't he just tell someone where he went? In the back of his mind he wondered if he'd be this worried if Kurt could see. But the last time he overestimated his abilities and underestimated the cruelty in the world this awful thing had happened to him. The thing that had made him so rash.

Kurt, Kurt, Kurt, Kurt.

He kept his eyes wide for a pea coat and his cane, for thick brown hair and porcelain skin, ears willing to hear the sweet bell that was his voice.

He finally stopped running, catching his breath, exasperated and confused. "Damn it, Kurt…" He stared around, raking his fingers through his curls.

Then there he was. Right in front of him. He bolted across the street, almost getting flattened by an SUV in the process, but he didn't care. "Kurt!"

Kurt sat with his knees in the snow, freezing all over but too tired and too weary to care. He sniffed, hot tears working down his cheeks, his chest tight and heavy. His jeans were soaked through, as well as his shoes. His hands were as numb as his face, but he honestly didn't care at this point.

He touched the stone in front of him, hands trembling. He sniffed, head bowed and crying, his skin searing in places. The warmth slowly seeped from his skin, numbing the legs beneath his wet jeans and his fingerprints soaked in snow. He coughed softly, uncurling his fingers from his cane with pained effort. Hot tears streaked down his cheeks, feeling so empty, so numb and hurt.

"Kurt!" He didn't move. The hurried crunching in the snow told him how long he'd really been here. He'd meant to get back before Blaine or anyone noticed he was gone. Sweet Blaine, always so good to him. He sounded so scared, too. "Kurt, baby, what the hell are you doing out here? You'll freeze!" He knelt beside him, the heat radiating from him to Kurt, who still hadn't moved. "Baby, what are you doing here, huh?"

"I'm scared," he shuddered. "I'm scared, I feel like the whole world is going to swallow me whole in this stupid dark that I live in…" He shut his eyes, both hands on the concrete slab in front of him. "I missed my mom…" His voice cracked, tracing specific letters: M-O-T-H-E-R. "I want my mom, Blaine." He buried his face in his hands, sobbing aloud. "I want my mohom!"

Blaine ripped off his jacket, draping it around Kurt's shoulders, tears in his own eyes. "It's okay, it's okay, baby."

"How?" He croaked. "How is it okay, Blaine? Tell me exactly how it's okay. The blind kid that you're dating for god knows why is so fucked up he had to come to a cemetery to…fuck, I just want my mom." Gingerly, Blaine reached out and put his hand on Kurt's shoulder. He tensed away, too angry to want to be touched. When he spoke again, it wasn't to Blaine but rather to himself or something beyond that. "Take my eyes, let me get beat, let me get harassed and ignored, let me get molested, but did you have to take my mom from me?" He sniffed, shaking his head. "But it's okay. I have Blaine. That's the trade-off, I get Blaine."

Blaine watching him with overwhelming pain in his chest that threatened to cave it. His eyes watered against his will, sniffing and blaming it on the cold rather than tears. "Kurt," he said softly. "You'll freeze to death if you stay here. Let's go home. Carole's putting the tree up," he offered, trying to brighten his miserable expression. Kurt nodded, still not letting go of his mother's gravestone.

The dark-haired boy jumped when he felt a hand on his shoulder, looking up at Burt who'd seemingly come from nowhere. "I knew where he was before Carole told me he was gone," he said softly. He stepped closer to his child, a blisteringly hot hand over his to gain his attention. "Come on, buddy, let's get out of the cold." The father stared at the headstone his son was clinging to for dear life, pain in his eyes and a lump in his throat.

Burt knelt down beside him, wrapping a protective arm around his shoulders he didn't shy away from, too tired to at this point. "I miss her too," he whispered. "And she helped you out for as long as she could. But you gotta let the rest of us help, buddy. We can help too. We can make the hurt go away just like she did. Me, Blaine, Carole, Finn, all the glee kids, you've got an army of people ready to help with what you need." He touched his chin, turning his face to get his snow dampened hair from his face. "You gotta trust us, Kurt."

"I miss her," he croaked. Burt nodded.

"I know. I know, buddy. I miss her too. Come on."

Kurt stood sluggishly, his legs igniting with sharp pins and prickling as soon as he did. He reached out and stroked Blaine's cheek as he passed, fingers freezing, but Blaine didn't care.

He stayed where he was for a moment, alone with the grave while Burt and Kurt went back to the car. He took a breath before speaking softly. "Hi, um…nice to meet you, Mrs. Hummel, uh… I know that you took really good care of him when you were here, and Bur- Mr. Hummel did as soon as you left and you guys did a really good job being there for him and-and keeping him safe. I haven't done a very good job with that so far. And I'm so sorry that I let him get hurt, I would never…"

He stopped, determined, pursing his lips. "But I'm trying, and I'm gonna keep trying to help. He's stubborn, really stubborn and he'll want to do it on his own but I don't think he can this time. I'm gonna try and give him the level of comfort and love that you guys do- did, sorry. I love him so much, more than anything else in this whole world. I'm gonna do what I think you'd want, what he needs and hopefully I'll be good enough for something for once." He stood, gingerly putting his hand on top of the headstone. "I'm not what your son deserves. He deserves much better than what I can give him, but I'll try. For your sake and his I'll do whatever it takes." He offered a small smile, taking his hand away. "It was nice to meet you."

"Blaine, let's go!" Burt called over the snow. He turned, finding Kurt was only a few yards away. He wasn't sure if he'd heard him or not, but the tight embrace that met him when he got close enough brought tears to his eyes.