Trying a different format of a songfic, tell me if you like it!
Inspired by Underground, from Adam Lambert's new album (which I can already deem incredible with just two singles out).
Underground
Blaine finds himself on his knees in the bathroom again. The house is eerily silent, but he can't hear it under his staggering breaths.
There's a bruise flowering on the knuckles of his left hand, where he'd punched the wall; it's pulsing with his heartbeat.
He's not sure where his phone is, but maybe that's for the best. He probably shouldn't be around it right now.
Then again, without his phone, he can't be sure how much time has passed. It all feels like nothing more than one second in time, though he knows, rationally, that it's been over an hour since Kurt left.
They'd started fighting earlier this week, and for the past two days, they haven't slept in the same bed- and frankly, they haven't been sleeping much anyway.
Blaine can definitely feel that sleep deprivation sinking in. He feels so heavy at this point, that he's not sure he could stand up, even if his knees are hurting and his back is twitching from the awkward position he's been kneeling in for a while.
He hears the front door creak as it opens, but the sound registers without his brain analyzing it, so when Kurt appears in the bathroom doorway, he startles.
"I'm so sorry," he whispers.
Blaine shakes his head. Fuck him, he can't even swallow down his tears.
"I can't do this anymore, Blaine. I can't not have you," Kurt says.
"You don't understand," he says, voice raspy. "Nobody kills me like you do, I swear."
Kurt looks down, and then reaches his hand out, for Blaine to take. "Explain it to me, then."
Blaine feels like he's moving through water when he grabs Kurt's right hand with his bruised left and stands up shakily; Kurt catches him, steadies him.
"I want you, but I also- I need you. I can't cut you off."
"Then don't try to. Don't run away again, don't sleep on the couch, and don't let me be mad at you- make me look at you and see you. Because I need a kick in the ass from time to time."
"No," says Blaine, stammering, and stumbles back. "You can't throw all of this at me, Kurt, you can't-"
"And I promise not to ignore you, to notice when you need me, and not to try to rip you off and go solo."
Blaine grounds himself, finding the sensation of his feet supported by the floor. He breathes deeply before speaking.
"We have to work together at this."
Kurt nods. "I know."
"And there's a lot of work to do."
He covers Blaine's bruised knuckles with the palm of his left hand; it's cold, balancing the heat radiating from the bruise.
"My ring is by the sink, can you put it on me, please?" he asks.
He closes his eyes when Kurt takes his ring and slowly slips it on.
"I'm a work in progress," Kurt says quietly.
"I'm a work in progress," Blaine answers, and falls into Kurt's arms again.