As anticipated, a Klaine reunion, just in time for the tail end of Klaine Week - the primary reason why I updated today. Thank you so much for the reviews, favourites, and followers - they really mean a lot. I hope this is up to expectations.
As Kurt finally pulled out of the embrace with his father, and spoke the urgent words 'Where's Blaine? I need to see Blaine', he saw Burt's eyes visibly turn sad, his mouth downturned and his expression grave. It only served to exacerbate the already uncontrollable fear and worry in Kurt's heart, and once again, he felt it thumping a million beats a minute. All he had done was run down the corridor towards his dad, and yet with the level of anxiety and emotionally-induced exhaustion he was experiencing, he might well have run a marathon. Kurt had been frightened over the phone, and absolutely devastated at what had happened to Blaine, but just seeing his father's obvious grief for the situation just made it all the more painful as it emphasised that this was really happening. Blaine had truly come home. Blaine had been attacked… Blaine had been… raped.
His dad rarely became this upset; Kurt could count on his fingers the number of times he had seen Burt willingly externalise his emotional state. The first, most prominent memory was of course, just after his mom died. They had all been in this same hospital nine years previously; he, his dad, and Blaine, who had sat there holding his hand the entire time, had been present when ovarian cancer finally took too firm a hold over Elizabeth Hummel for her to fight any longer. Kurt and Blaine had not been in the room when she finally passed away, because his mom had insisted, even when so weak, that she didn't want either of the children, especially Kurt, to remember something like that for the rest of their lives. That sheer act of selflessness, even though she clearly wanted her baby boy by her side in her final moments, had made Burt cry. In turn that had made Kurt cry, swiftly followed by Blaine, because he hated seeing Kurt so upset, and the two of them had been gently escorted from the room by a kindly nurse who looked after them for the next few hours. When Burt eventually appeared from the room, stating that his mom was finally resting and no longer in any pain, he cried again and then once more as the casket was lowered into the grave at the funeral. Following that, his dad rarely allowed himself to cry in front of him; he had always been so strong – he was Kurt's rock. Kurt knew that his dad must have cried more than that, but he suspected Burt kept these emotional outbursts for when he wasn't around, to protect him. Kurt sometimes got a little frustrated with this, but right now, seeing Burt's watery eyes and grave expression, all he wanted was for his daddy to protect him again. He desperately wanted Burt to just smile, clap him gruffly on the back and say that Blaine was fine; that everything was going the be okay, but in reality, Kurt knew this was not going to happen. In fact, Burt did not really respond to his plea to see Blaine, so he spoke again, with more urgency, his voice trembling.
"Dad? Where is he? I need to see him."
It was clear from the expression on his dad's face that the elder Hummel didn't like the idea of Kurt seeing Blaine at the moment, but his eyes flickering towards the door directly to his left betrayed Blaine's location. Taking a moment to gather strength for what he was about to do and see, Kurt took a shaky breath, blinked back some lingering tears, and started for the door. His hand was almost on the door handle when his dad must have realised what was happening, because he suddenly placed a restraining hand on his forearm and advised him softly:
"I… I don't think it's a good idea for you to see him at the moment, bud."
The pressure on his arm wasn't firm at all, and if he wanted to, Kurt could have quite easily pulled the handle down and entered the room anyway, regardless of his dad's opinion. But Kurt didn't often, if ever, ignore his dad's advice, and more importantly, he did not like the broken, devastated tone to Burt's voice. Still facing the door, Kurt whispered tremulously:
"W-Why not?"
Burt released a shaky sigh, but uttered no response, apparently being unable to find the right words. His silence was far more effective than any long speech could have been, making Kurt turn around slowly, willing his tears not to fall as he prompted, his eyes wide, glistening and terrified:
"D-Dad?"
He surveyed his father's expression for a few more seconds before reading the man's eyes for answers to the information he sought.
"Dad? D-Did he wake up?"
There was a lengthy pause, during which Kurt tried his best not to get too impatient. There was a reason his dad was protecting him from seeing Blaine, and he couldn't stand to think of what it was. Had Blaine been injured badly? Was he in pain? Oh God, Kurt suddenly began to inwardly panic – had Blaine remembered what had happened to him? Was he too upset to see anyone? This then raised the question to Kurt as to what exactly he was going to say, or how he was going to react when he saw Blaine. He hadn't seen his estranged best friend in six years, and suddenly he was visiting him in the hospital after a horrible, hateful attack. What was he doing? What could he possibly say or do to make this better? What could he do to make Blaine feel better? He didn't know the other boy anymore.
"He…" Burt answered croakily after a time, awakening Kurt from his depressing thoughts. "He woke up for a while… but he fell back asleep just now. He was… exhausted and…"
Burt's words trailed off and again, he looked unsure of what to say. He looked around vaguely, as if hoping for divine inspiration to strike and give him the words which would make the news as painless as possible. His eyes landed on Finn, who at that moment came to a stop just next to Kurt, shuffling his large feet, and digging his hands into his jeans pockets; a picture of awkwardness. Kurt also looked up at Finn, despite his desperation to eke as much information about Blaine out of his dad as possible. He suddenly felt exposed; like Finn and Carole, as much as he cared about them, were intruding on a private moment. Until now he had all but forgotten Finn, and had barely seen Carole standing with his dad as he exited the lift. Yet now he felt self-conscious; a shaking, crying mess in front of these two people who did not share this part of his history with him. Amidst his feelings of worry, fear and desperation, he then added guilt to the mix. He felt guilty for letting Blaine go through all of this, even though rationally he knew there was nothing he could have done to stop all of this from happening, and he now felt selfish for wanting this moment to be between his dad and he… and Blaine. Kurt wondered if this showed in his facial expression because Burt quietly asked Carole if she and Finn could please give them a few minutes alone. Like the fantastically understanding woman she was, Carole smiled and readily agreed.
"Sure, honey." She replied sympathetically, planting a gentle kiss on Burt's cheek and patting Kurt's shoulder comfortingly as she passed. "Come on, Finn."
Finn looked a little bewildered himself at the emotion in Burt's face, he having never seen the elder Hummel cry or show any tremble in emotion, other than when he was particularly proud of him or Kurt, and of course, when Burt and Carole announced they were engaged.
"Come on, sweetie," Carole encouraged her son, placing her arm around his lower back, and leading him in the direction of the lift again. "I'll buy you lunch at the café downstairs."
Finn noticeably perked up at the mention of 'lunch', and so without another thought as to the situation in front of him, turned and willingly walked with his mom to the lift. Kurt could not help but stare a little longingly after them as the lift doors shut. He wanted to go back to this morning, where things were as simple as looking forward to lunch. At that moment, seeing the grave expression in his dad's eyes and knowing it didn't bode well, he even started to wonder whether he would rather be in Miss Holliday's history class. He felt his dad's hand on his shoulder, and enough pressure being exerted to lead him to some vacant uncomfortable-looking white, plastic chairs at the edge of the corridor. Kurt found he was almost glad of the choice, because his knees suddenly buckled as he reached the chairs, and he sank down gratefully. Burt eased himself into the chair next to him, before turning to face him, pausing for a brief moment to choose his words carefully.
"Kurt, bud," he began hesitatingly, and now, looking into his dad's face, Kurt saw that Burt Hummel seemed to have aged almost ten years since the morning, the weight of responsibility and worry on his shoulders was so strong. "Blaine…" His dad closed his eyes painfully as he forced himself through the next sentence. "Blaine… isn't… he doesn't seem to be… quite… himself… he's not the… confident… little guy we knew. He's… he's changed a bit-"
"W-What do you mean... he's changed?" Kurt asked, his lip trembling, his eyes widening at the thought of losing the Blaine he knew. The sweet, kind, gentle boy he had known couldn't have changed that much could he? He thought of the antithesis of Blaine and came up with someone who was full of hate; an active participant in violence. In short, he thought of someone like David Karofsky. Oh please no, he couldn't bear that.
Almost as if reading his thoughts, Burt opened his eyes again and was quick to amend his statement, "No, no, nothing like that, son." He assured Kurt, who still looked at him doubtfully. "It's not a change for the worse… well… obviously it is… but… he's still a good, good person… believe me, bud… he has a good heart." Despite his dad's clear sorrow, a small smile suddenly played on his face. "Even during the short time he was awake, he asked how you were… if you were okay."
Kurt didn't know why, but this information somewhat calmed him. It handed back to him a piece of Blaine that he knew for sure was genuine and unchanged, despite all of these years apart; all of the years the other boy had suffered. The kindness and indisputable goodness was his Blaine. Wait… his Blaine? Kurt could feel some of the tension rise within him again as his dad's expression turned solemn once more.
"But…" Burt continued sadly. "He's been… beaten down and… beaten down… to the point that that poor kid's afraid and… ashamed of his own shadow… and I don't think it's just because of what happened to him this morning."
Kurt couldn't stop a solitary tear from being released down his cheek as his dad spoke. He remembered clearly the broken boy who turned up on their doorstep with a bleeding head wound; he recalled the wide frightened hazel eyes of Blaine as Jonathan Anderson stormed into the bedroom that morning and yelled at him, dragging him by the hair downstairs. "Was it his dad?" Kurt choked out eventually, needing to hear the answer.
Burt swallowed, looking desperate to tell him otherwise, but Kurt could tell he was probably right, even from just looking at his dad. "He was crying… well… almost the entire time he was awake… but he kept repeating that didn't want to go back… he doesn't want to go back to Jonathan."
"Oh God," Kurt sniffed, staring fearfully at his dad, and furiously wiping at his now wet cheeks. "What did he to him, dad?"
Burt noticed his son's tears and wrapped a comforting arm around his shoulders. Even though Kurt was sure that nothing could really comfort him now, he appreciated the gesture. It was just further proof that his dad was worth a hundred billion of Blaine's. "I don't know, bud. And I don't think he's ready to talk about it just yet. He was… in a… terrible, terrible state." Kurt wanted to cry again but forced himself not to; he didn't have any right to cry when Blaine was suffering so much. "He's hurting badly… he couldn't stop crying… or blaming himself-"
Kurt stared heartbrokenly, but incredulously at his dad, demanding, "What was he blaming himself for?"
Burt simply closed his eyes again, as if recounting the painful conversation in his head, "Everything – the attack, leaving you, being a 'bad person'-" At the last two words, Burt actually raised his fingers to form quotation marks, demonstrating just how much he disagreed with the suggestion.
"What?" Kurt spluttered, almost angrily. "He's not a bad person… he's… he's a good person... a really kind, good person."
"I think it's another aspect of self-loathing drilled into him by Jonathan." Burt growled, looking equally furious – not with Kurt, but at those who had done this to Blaine. And it suddenly occurred to Kurt that it my not have just been Jonathan who had demeaned and beaten Blaine down to this extent. Wherever the Andersons' had been living for six years, it was perhaps safe to say that Blaine hadn't found any kindness there, otherwise he wouldn't have risked the streets, the cold and the starvation to return all he way to Lima… to them. But why… what had Blaine done wrong?
When Kurt looked up at his dad again, Burt was staring at him from the corner of his eye, looking as if he was debating with himself whether or not to tell him something.
"Dad…" Kurt asked nervously. "Why does he think he's a bad person? Because of the attack? Because he left? He knows he's not to blame for those things doesn't he?"
"No, he probably doesn't actually, even though I tried to get that through to him." Burt sighed. "But… but it's not just that."
"Dad?"
Burt rubbed his eyes tiredly, "I… I honestly don't know if it's my place to tell you, bud."
Kurt's eyes widened, "Why? Is it… is it really bad? Did he… I don't know… hurt anyone?" He hated himself for even thinking such a thing, feeling even worse when Burt instantly shook his head, looking shocked.
"No… no, nothing like that, I promise."
"Well then, what?" Kurt pressed. He desperately wanted to talk to Blaine, to comfort his old friend, and he couldn't bear to think of Blaine calling himself a bad person for no reason. Especially since Blaine was probably the most genuine, kind-hearted person he had ever known – as well as his dad, of course.
Burt sighed, and again, Kurt could see the cogs in his father's head working frantically, as if weighing up the options. Eventually, he swallowed and said softly, "It might be easier on him… well both of you, if I tell you anyway." The eldest Hummel took a deep breath, "He thought he was a bad person because he's gay."
Kurt's eyes widened and his heart plummeted just a little. Blaine… his once best friend… is gay – like… like him? It hadn't even struck Kurt's mind that Blaine might be gay, in all the years he had thought about the boy since Blaine's departure from Lima. Sure, they had looked at fashion magazines and clothes together, and played tea parties and dress-ups… but Blaine had also liked football and other sports; he didn't mind getting a bit muddy or doing things that straight boys obviously did. Kurt didn't have any gay friends to talk to… who understood him properly, so the thought may have appealed to him had the reason for the topic not come slamming back down into the forefront of his mind. Blaine thought he was a bad person… because he was gay? Kurt thought of sweet little Blaine and the way the smaller boy always used to stick up for him against the bullies; against the haters, and wanted to cry. Was Blaine now one of those haters?
"So… so he'll think I'm a bad person too?" Kurt asked, hating the fact that his voice sounded so small and vulnerable, even at its already high-pitched level.
Burt whirled round to look at him again, his grip around Kurt's shoulder's tightening, "What?" he demanded incredulously. "No, of course not."
Kurt frowned, "But you just said-"
"He thinks he's a bad person, bud," Burt explained patiently. "because he's probably been made to feel that way by Jonathan… and now by that… rapist" he spat the word in disgust. "… by… everyone." Burt continued in a more gentle tone, "People here in Lima aren't so accepting of you, but at least you have me, and Carole, and Finn and friends who care about you. From the way he came all the way here to find us… I'm not sure Blaine's had anybody to give him that support." Burt paused for a second, a small smile gracing his lips once again as he continued, "I told him that you're gay too and I asked him myself… does that make you a bad person?"
Kurt looked at his dad desperately for answer, yet he was also intrigued by the smile on his face.
"He answered, and I quote: 'No, he's perfect'."
Kurt didn't know why it mattered so much what an old friend… his old best friend, thought of him and his sexuality, but it did. He couldn't explain his sudden burst of happiness, regardless of the situation, and blushed profusely at the complementary answer. Yes, Blaine was still… his Blaine. He was still the boy he had known. When he looked back over at his dad, Burt was surveying him silently.
"He cares about you… a lot." His father announced, very quietly, as if the emphasise the words.
"I… I know," Kurt found himself saying softly, even though he hadn't actually seen the other boy himself yet. "He always did."
"He didn't want you to see him because he's ashamed of the attack-"
"I don't care-" Kurt began to object, only to be cut off by his dad again.
"And he doesn't want to upset you." Burt continued pointedly, his arm retreating from around Kurt shoulders and clasping his hands in his lap. "And I don't want you upset either."
Kurt sighed, touched by his dad's concern, but now all he wanted to do was see Blaine; to comfort the younger boy and let him know that even though things were far from okay, he wasn't alone. "I'll be fine, dad."
"Are you sure?" Burt asked, forcing Kurt to meet his eyes, even though Kurt could tell his dad already knew that his mind had been made up. That was one of the many wonderful things about his father – he was caring, but he didn't mollycoddle. He allowed Kurt to make his own decisions, and trusted him to make the right ones.
Kurt swallowed, suddenly aware of what he was about to do, "Yeah."
"Kurt, you should know," Burt added, gravely. "He's… he's in a state… there's no telling how he'll react when he wakes up again-"
"I don't care." Kurt said firmly, making up his mind, and rising from his seat.
Burt did the same, but still apparently felt the need to tell him all of the facts. "- He's got a long road to recovery… he's got a fever, he's exhausted… he's lost a hell of a lot of weight… he's in pain."
"I know, dad." Kurt spoke loudly and decisively, silencing his father. "I know… I just… I really need to see him."
Burt regarded him for a moment, before smiling slightly, and Kurt thought he detected a note of pride in his dad's expression. "Okay," the man nodded, walking Kurt to the door. "I think I already know the answer to this, but do you want me to go in with you?"
Kurt had to admit that he was tempted; having his dad there for support in case anything happened certainly seemed like a safe option, but then again, he selfishly wanted his own time with Blaine. He wanted to see his best friend… because he was still his best friend, even with six years of alienation. Blaine had been his one constant good memory to get him through high school. Plus, if he needed to cry again, he would do it as soon as he entered the room, without his dad or Blaine noticing. Regardless of what would happen when Blaine woke up, Kurt knew he would deal with it on his own. It was his responsibility. Blaine was his responsibility. The other boy had so often taken care of him when they were younger; it was his turn to look after and comfort Blaine.
"No," Kurt replied gratefully. "But thanks, dad."
Burt nodded, squeezing his shoulder as he rested his hand on the door handle. "Okay. I'm going to meet Carole and Finn in the café downstairs; Carole talked to the doctors about the Blaine's injuries and I want to find out what needs to be done." He paused. "But when he's ready I want him to come home with us. I take it you're okay with that?" he asked searchingly, but his eyes were twinkling slightly because he already knew Kurt's answer.
Kurt's face broke out into a true smile. Sometimes he just really loved and admired his dad. Of course, he was okay with that. Blaine certainly wasn't going back to Jonathan Anderson if he had anything to do with it, and he could t ell his dad was thinking exactly the same thing. "Yeah, that's great, dad." He answered honestly, and then tried to add a slightly lighter note to the tail end of the conversation with, "Good luck asking Carole and Finn though."
Burt shrugged, beginning to make his way down the corridor towards the lift, "I'll take my chances." He told Kurt over his shoulder. "He's family… he always was… and we're not letting him go this time."
With that, Burt Hummel disappeared into the lift, conveniently at the same moment his voice began to break with emotion. As the doors closed on his dad, Kurt had to stop his own threateningly overwhelming tears, partly at his father's statement, but also with the knowledge of who he was about to meet again. Taking a deep breath and a moment to compose himself, Kurt pulled the handle down and carefully eased the door open.
The sight of Blaine lying broken and small in the cot was a hundred times worse for Kurt than it had been for Burt. Kurt had been expecting it to be painful but he didn't anticipate it hurting this much. As soon as he entered the room, his eyes automatically ought Blaine's presence on the bed, and instantly he felt sick. He had known Blaine probably better than anyone; his younger friend had allowed him to see and hear just about everything. When the abuse got too much for Blaine, Kurt could always tell and had eventually persuaded him to confess all that was going on at home, despite Blaine's constant brave, confident persona. Thus, at the time, Kurt had heard every story behind every one of Blaine's sores, scars and tears, however watered down it may have been, because Kurt had always suspected that Blaine's home life was far worse than he made it out to be. Consequently, it was only natural for Kurt to now see the damage to Blaine in magnified detail; he was looking for the brokenness and the fragility… and he certainly saw it.
Kurt raked his eyes over the saline drip connected firmly to Blaine's hand, the numerous cuts, scars and bruises trailing up the arm, and the bruising displayed on Blaine's lower neck and shoulder, visible even with the flimsy blue hospital gown covering him. He took in the heavy cast around Blaine's other arm, making it virtually unmovable, and then, only then, did he summon the courage to drift his eyes upwards in search of the other boy's face. It was easier to take in the other injuries first, without looking at the face to whom the damaged body belonged, because then he could easily pretend that it was someone else in that hospital bed; that it wasn't Blaine Anderson, his best friend; that this was all either a big mistake or a sick joke.
Yet as his eyes finally rested on that face, all of these hopeless desires vanished, to be replaced by wracking sobs that shook Kurt's whole body. It was undoubtedly his Blaine. The younger boy's once meticulously gelled-back dark hair was free of its constraints, and longer than Kurt had ever seen it, with wet, sweaty curls starkly contrasting against the supremely white pillow case. A catheter was feeding into each of Blaine's nostrils connecting to another piece of equipment which Kurt was unable to identify, but he could only assume it was to help the other boy to breathe. Poor Blaine was certainly having trouble breathing steadily, because although his eyes were tight shut in sleep, he was frowning and releasing breath tremulously; occasionally shifting under the bedclothes, as if in the midst of a particularly horrific nightmare. The younger boy's lips were chapped and cut, and every so often elicited a heart-breaking little whimper.
Kurt cried harder than ever, though completely silently, so that he didn't wake the other boy, when he noticed exactly thin Blaine was. He had lost a ridiculous amount of weight since Kurt had last seen him; not only in his stomach, but also his arms were like fragile twigs that could break at any moment, and his face was thin and sallow. He had grown a little in height over the six years but not nearly to the extent that he should have. Kurt quelled the anger burning deep within him at the thought of Blaine enduring almost starvation. How long had the boy been force to live on the streets? How long had he been hurting like this?
However, as Kurt roughly swept aside his tears with his sleeve, for once with no mind as to what damage that would do to his designer shirt, he couldn't help but smile just a little. He was miserable that Blaine was visible and internally suffering so much, but at the same time, as he took in the younger boy in his entirety, he saw Blaine. He saw Blaine, who despite being so ill and so fragile, was undeniably handsome and utterly adorable.
Kurt sniffed once more, and wiped the last of his tears, feeling that he had cried enough tears that day to last an entire month's rainfall. Slowly, he approached the bed, and pulled up a white plastic chair, similar to the ones outside in the corridor. He eased himself down carefully, without looking, because now he was staring at Blaine Anderson, he was scared that if he looked away, then the other boy would disappear – and he definitely didn't want that again. He didn't know how long he just that there, staring at this boy, his best friend. It could have been minutes; it could have been hours. Had anyone else been there, he would have felt a little bit creepy sitting there just staring at another boy, especially with other kids' views at McKinley that just because he was gay, then he was obviously a predatory gay. Yet being there on his own with Blaine, with only the beeps and guzzles from the machinery around them for noise, he felt oddly… calm. He felt a little awkward, but that was to be expected because he was sitting by the bedside of a guy who he hadn't seen in six years. But just as he had been those six years ago, Blaine was a nevertheless soothing presence; even watching his sleeping face calmed Kurt enough to try to think of how to react to Blaine when he ultimately woke up. Should he ask questions? Should he tread carefully and just leave the other boy to it? Kurt certainly didn't want to intrude.
It was only when daylight started to fade outside that Kurt realised just how long he had been sitting there. He was considering leaving for a moment to talk to his dad, who surprising hadn't disturbed them, when Blaine suddenly let out a loud, terrified cry, and turned roughly under the bedclothes. Kurt looked back down at the other boy in shock, heartbroken at the mere sound of Blaine's sudden distress. More cries soon followed, crescendoing each time, and tossing with increasing vigour that Kurt was terrified that the younger boy would hurt himself more. It was only when Blaine started sobbing full-throttle, crying out unintelligible pleas, that Kurt shook himself out of his paralysed, fearful state, and realised that Blaine was in the throes of a particularly horrific nightmare. Kurt couldn't bear to see poor Blaine in so much pain, and forcing his own tears back down, set about trying to wake the younger boy up.
"Blaine?" Kurt called tentatively. "Blaine, wake up."
Nothing happened at all, except Blaine's cries grew louder. Kurt tried a second time, then a third, both of which had little luck. And then, without even thinking about it, Kurt knew instinctively what to do; as if it was the most obvious thing in the world. He hesitated only briefly before reaching forwards and slipping a hand into Blaine's, squeezing it tightly, though with not enough pressure to hurt him.
"Blaine?" He called again, this time a little louder. "Honey, it's okay. It's alright."
Blaine cried harder than ever, and Kurt tried not to panic or get upset. He'd never really had cause to calm anyone to this extent before, except maybe Rachel Berry, his on-off friend, and Finn's girlfriend who constantly grew hysterical whenever she was denied a solo in glee club, and then, and then, Kurt was far less sympathetic. He essentially told her to snap out of it and stop being so self-centred… blunt, but unfortunately true. But Blaine wasn't crying because he'd been denied to lead spot in a show choir number; he was crying over something so devastating, Kurt couldn't even begin to imagine it. Kurt paused and accepted his moment of panicking: 'Oh God, I can't do this. I should get my dad. Or a doctor. Or…', before he brought himself back out of it again, more determined than ever.
"Blaine, honey?" Kurt called, raising the volume yet again, hoping to work his way into Blaine's nightmare and bring him back to the light. Without even realising what he was doing, he raised his other hand to Blaine's head and soothingly began to stroke the mess of tangled curls. "Come on, Blaine." He said softly, squeezing the other boy's hand again tightly. "Wake up… just wake up and it'll be okay. You're safe… you're here now… with me."
Kurt wasn't really sure or noticing what he was saying by this point; he just wanted to relieve Blaine of his painful nightmare, and little by little, he saw Blaine's dark eyelids start to lift slightly, as if waking.
"Blaine? Come on, that's it." Kurt encouraged softly, moving his hand from Blaine's hair to stroke the boy's cheek gently. "Wake up… you're okay… you're alright."
Blaine may have been waking up, but he certainly hadn't stopped crying, and when he finally surfaced fully into consciousness, he hunched over and tried to sit up, hiding his tears from the world, just as he always had. Kurt tried to comfort him as best he could, whilst simultaneously being utterly miserable himself, just watching Blaine's distress. He forced a smile onto his face for Blaine's benefit, even though the crying boy hadn't yet noticed him. He was probably aware that someone was there, judging from the fact that he kept trying to turn away, but he hadn't dared look up at who was with him. Kurt began to wonder if it would make a difference anyway. It absolutely broke his heart into a billion shattered pieces to see his Blaine in such a state; he had never been like this six years ago. He had been upset, but not broken.
"Sweetie, it's me," Kurt uttered softly, stroking the back of the other boy's hand tenderly with his thumb. "It's Kurt. Kurt Hummel. You're okay… you're safe now."
Little by little, Blaine calmed – or at least to a reasonable extent. Eventually, his wracking sobs were reduced to spasmodic hiccoughs and he seemed to gather the courage to open his eyes fully. Kurt couldn't help but notice that they were still that same mixture of amber and hazel; the same ones he had seen every time he opened his locker each day and saw that photograph of them on the makeshift tyre swing in his back garden. He waited patiently for those eyes to look up and see him; to meet his eyes… to recognise him… if he even would. He didn't have to wait much longer.
Slowly, Blaine lowered his eyes to his right hand, which Kurt still held gently, waiting for the other boy the snatch his hand away. He remembered reading somewhere that rape victims hated to be touched, or at least so soon after the incident in question. Yet to Kurt's surprise, and relief, Blaine didn't pull away immediately. Instead, taking note of the gentle contact, he raised his head agonisingly slowly until his eyes met Kurt's. They both froze for a minute, taking in the moment they thought would never happen: a reunion. After a devastating six year apart, here the both were; perhaps not well, but at least alive. Kurt thought he saw Blaine's hazel eyes soften in recognition for a moment, before the younger boy half-sobbed, half-whispered:
"K-Kurt?"
Kurt didn't know why he was relieved that Blaine remembered him instantly, but he was. He also didn't know why he smiled, but he did:
"Hey, you." His smile grew as he had an idea. He doubted Blaine would remember the first time they met, especially with the horror he had been through and was currently experiencing, but it was worth a try. "Are you okay?" he asked gently, his eyes glistening as he thought back to that conversation in the playground so long ago.
He watched as Blaine automatically grew self-conscious, just as his dad had described. He began to turn away, mumbling incoherent apologies about 'upsetting' him. Kurt felt tears begin to well in his eyes, partly at this boy's constant goodness, and partly due to his shaky statement which just so happened to mirror that which Kurt said eleven years ago in the playground. His dad had been right: it was still his Blaine, just with less confidence. "Y-yes, thank you."
Kurt could quite plainly see that Blaine wasn't okay; in fact it was the sheer opposite, and he wanted to help him. Smiling still, albeit shakily, he drew a perfectly folded handkerchief from his pocket and seeing that Blaine was in no position to do it himself, gently wiped the tear tracks from the younger boy's cheeks; dabbing at his eyes before placing the handkerchief onto the bedside drawer beside them. "Now you look okay."
Slowly, ever so slowly, he saw recognition appear in Blaine's eyes. He could see the perfect memory flash before the other boy's eyes; see the momentary hope that everything was okay again; that they were young and carefree, before he looked back over to Kurt again, saw the hospital bedclothes and the guzzling machines, and chin trembling, he quietly began to cry again.
Kurt didn't know what to do other than curse himself for his stupid idea. He had only wanted to give Blaine a happy moment, but of course, those memories just brought the boy back to the harsh reality of what had happened to him. In that moment, Kurt did the only thing that was obvious to him: he leant forwards and enveloped Blaine in a tight embrace. Kurt felt Blaine's head nestle into the crook of his neck and the broken boy raised his right hand as much as he dared to cling desperately to Kurt's jacket, as if letting go would send him right back into a dark abyss, where he wasn't wanted. Except he was wanted. Very much so. He felt Blaine squeeze him with the little energy he had, and Kurt squeezed Blaine back.
"I-I-I'm s-s-so s-sorry, K-Kurt." The younger boy sobbed into his shoulder.
"Sshh," Kurt shushed his friend sadly, trying to recall the happy little boy he encountered in the school playground that day. "Don't be sorry. You're hurting. It's okay to cry."
"I-I'm j-just upsetting y-you," Blaine cried, gulping for air. "I'm t-trying to s-stop, I really am, b-b-but I can't."
"It's okay." Kurt whispered, even though he knew it wasn't for Blaine. It wouldn't be for a long time. "It's okay." He muttered over and over again like a mantra.
"I-I-I'm s-s-sorry f-for leaving you o-on y-your own."
Kurt's heart broke again, "Don't be sorry, Blaine. Please, don't think it's your fault. It's not."
"I p-p-promised you I'd p-protect you… that I w-w-wouldn't leave you." Blaine continued to fret.
"It's okay," Kurt hushed softly. "Really, it's okay. You don't need to protect me. It wasn't your fault."
"But I p-p-promised you… we s-said we would a-always b-b-be th-there for each other…"
Kurt wanted to cry again. Blaine had taken everything to heart, and remembered it even when they were apart. Even after everything that had happened to him that morning, he was distressing over the fact that he had left Kurt behind
"I f-f-failed you." Blaine cried miserably.
"No." Kurt said firmly now, pulling back briefly to look the other boy in the eye to emphasise his point. "No, you didn't. You've helped me more than you'll ever know, Blaine." He said, thinking of the photo in his locker; the constant memories that got him through the day. "And we're here for each other now. You're never going back to him – to your dad. You're safe now." Blaine's face crumpled more during his tears, and Kurt drew the younger boy back into the hug. "What has he done to you, Blaine?" he asked miserably of no one in particular, whilst Blaine was too distraught to reply. "What has the world done to you?"
Blaine clung tighter to Kurt, as if it would stop him from shattering into a million pieces, "I-I was so s-s-scared, K-Kurt." He admitted, and Kurt, if it was possible, held him even closer.
"I know." He whispered wretchedly. "You don't have to be scared anymore. It's okay. You're safe."
"I'm a b-b-bad p-person." Blaine began mumbling into Kurt's shoulder, seemingly more for himself than Kurt's ears.
Kurt squeezed his eyes shut; he didn't think he could handle much more of Blaine degrading himself like this. When his dad had mentioned this was the state Blaine was in, that had been bad enough, but to now see it live in front of him was breaking his heart over and over again. "No. No. You. Are. Not." He punctuated each word sharply to illustrate his point, trying his best to refrain from becoming teary-eyed. "You are such a good person, Blaine. You're probably the best person I know. You were five years old when you stood up for me in that playground at recess… against a thirteen year old bully who was over half your size… and you didn't have to do that-"
"It was the r-r-right th-thing to d-do." Blaine sniffed, as if it was obvious and Kurt's heart almost melted. "You w-w-were upset-"
"You see?" Kurt demanded lightly, moving one hand up and down Blaine's back to calm him. "You see, Blaine? You have such… goodness in you, despite what this awful world's given you."
He felt Blaine move his head against his shoulder and looking down, Kurt saw that the younger boy was sharking his head. Shaking his head. Kurt was almost frustrated that this boy couldn't see what he saw, but he was careful not to let this frustration show outwardly.
"Yes, Blaine," he argued loudly. "You are a good person."
At his loud, pressing tone, Blaine shrank back from him slightly, and Kurt experienced a twinge of guilt, but also fear and distress. He couldn't bear to see Blaine frightened of him. He wanted to make everything better, but he just did not know how. Why, oh why, couldn't he just have the power to make everything better for his friend. He was surprised and touched when Blaine stammered through uneven breathing:
"Y-Y-You're the g-good p-person, Kurt. If I'm any g-g-good at a-all it's b-b-because of y-you. Y-You're k-kind a-and f-f-funny and b-brave and-"
"You're brave, Blaine." Kurt interjected desperately, holding the other boy tighter than ever. "For heaven's sake, you're the bravest person I've ever known. To have gone through what you have-"
To Kurt's horror, Blaine suddenly ripped himself out of the embrace and all but screamed wretchedly, "I'm not b-b-brave. You n-n-never ran from your b-bullies. I r-ran, Kurt. My… my d-d-dad… he… he…" Blaine screwed his eyes and face up so much that had it been anyone else, in any other situation, Kurt would have chided them for frown and age lines. However, it looked as if Blaine was physically in pain, straining; opening his mouth silently like a goldfish, desperately trying to recount something obviously important – perhaps the reason he had been on the streets… but he couldn't do it. "I ran b-because my d-d-dad… he…" Kurt saw the moment Blaine gave up trying to talk, and gathered the boy back into his arms, and was glad that Blaine sagged against him with a helpless sob of, "I ran, Kurt."
"That's okay," Kurt tried to reassure the other boy softly, whilst trying to ignore the dark, terrifying thoughts on what Jonathan Anderson could possibly have done to his son to make him flee with no money and no clothes on his back but the ones he'd been wearing when he was brought to the hospital. He hated to think how long had passed since Blaine had fled. Months? All that time with no place to stay and hardly any food or drink. No wonder he was so thin and weak. "Blaine, it's okay. You were scared. I can't even begin to imagine what you've been through."
Kurt watched as Blaine closed his eyes, almost shamefully, burying his head once again into the crook of Kurt's neck. "I-I-I ran a-a-and all I c-c-could think about w-w-was you. I knew you w-would h-have a l-l-life… without me… I knew it… and s-s-still I ran to y-y-you… disrupting y-y-your l-l-life… making y-y-you come all the w-way here… I'm s-so sorry."
Kurt squeezed Blaine tightly, forcing almost angry tears down, "Don't you dare be sorry for coming back, Blaine Anderson." He chastised the smaller boy softly, feeling him shake in his arms. "Don't you dare. For six years I hoped… waited for you to come back... every day, I waited. And now you're here, I don't think I've ever been so… miserable…" he admitted. "…but so happy at the same time. I hate what Jonathan's done to you… what that… that man this morning did to you… but I am just so, so happy you're home. So don't even think that you're 'disrupting' my life. You're part of my life."
With tears still trickling down his cheeks and with what appeared to be a supreme effort, Blaine raised his right arm, still with the drip needle connected and wrapped it tightly around Kurt's back, "I love you, Kurt." He whispered, his voice obviously sore from all the crying.
Kurt let out a soft smile and squeezed Blaine tightly in return, "Love you too." He replied quietly. "You're my best friend… always will be. We're Kurt and Blaine… best friends forever."
Blaine buried his head into Kurt's shoulder again so Kurt couldn't see his expression for a moment; he could only feel Blaine's breathing slowly calm, and with that, the cries eventually began to die down. "I missed you so much." The younger boy said quietly, with much more even breathing, and Kurt couldn't help but feel slightly happier that Blaine was calmer.
"I missed you too." Kurt confessed, smiling genuinely, pulling back out of the embrace, but still holding Blaine's forearms so that the smaller boy didn't lose comforting contact. Their eyes met in a rush of hazel and glasz and for the first time, Kurt thought he saw the corner of Blaine's mouth turn upwards ever so slightly; a ghost of an almost-smile… but it was a start. He couldn't wait to see that dazzling, cheeky smile again – the one present in the photograph in his locker. Kurt knew it would take a while, but he was confident it would happen someday, however long it took.
"Please don't go." Blaine begged softly, and Kurt thought the younger boy looked so much like a puppy with those wide, scared hazel eyes, he knew he wouldn't be able to say 'no' – not that he had any intention of leaving Blaine anyway.
"I won't." Kurt promised, releasing Blaine's forearms and instead reclaiming the boy's right hand with both of his, always mindful of the needle and tubing. "I'm not going anywhere."
He settled fully back into the white plastic chair, of which he had previously been perched on the edge, and made himself comfortable ready for the next few hours.
Right then, there you have it - a Klaine reunion. Was it alright? Next up, possibly a bit of repetition with this scene or at least bits of it from Blaine p.o.v, with new stuff as well. Please review and/or let me know what you think, or if there's anything you'd like to see in particular.