( mssg » kurt | sent ) I know you’re probably sleeping but I’m doing this on the off chance that you might be awake. ( mssg » kurt | sent ) If you are up? Mind if I bother you? ( mssg » kurt | sent )
If you aren’t? I hope you’re sleeping well and we can chat soon. 🙂
( mssg » kurt | sent ) You’re just..on my mind tonight. A lot.
A smarter person might wait longer. It’s been a while since he saw Blaine and there was still time before he left, but less now. He had an eternity to live his life and create new ones when he simply couldn’t avoid questions about his never-aging face, but Kurt wasn’t one to wait around. This may be in part why he chose to see Blaine. It may not be quite the right time yet, but he dismissed the possibility in favor of disturbing Blaine’s definite hangover. Now, demons didn’t have some magic way of slipping into people’s homes, but something Oliver taught him before that became relevant was how to get into almost any building at any time. The guy wasn’t the most classy, what could he say. It came in handy, obviously. So yes, Kurt was breaking and entering, but really, what else was expected of him given his… State of being? That sounded about right. Once the door is shut behind himself, he wonders if it’s possible to have lost a social standard or something because since when did Kurt Hummel break into bedrooms instead of knocking? He shook off his concerns easily enough.
It wasn’t exactly early, but it was a weekend and judging by last night, Blaine could probably sleep for a lot longer. This was also something Kurt dismissed. He waited about five minutes, started to debate how to go about waking his friend for another two, and finally just pulled the pillow from under Blaine’s head.
Blaine was sprawled out on the bed thanks to having been dropped there. One sober moment of clarity crossed his mind during the night. A huge revelation came when he saw the string of text messages he was blabbering to Kurt in–I miss you being the confession he started his night out trying to forget? The only thing that would erase his mistake of keeping his cellphone on him was more alcohol. A bad potentially idea that ended up–kinda good? His friends were more than happy to keep the drinks coming so he didn’t notice when someone–he had no idea who–did him the favor of putting his cellphone in their pocket. Three shots later–their Blaine was back. Out on the dancefloor laughing drunkenly and dancing until the lights came on. He was so sleeping in. The house was empty. If anyone crashed? They didn’t pass out in his bedroom so he had quiet and dark and it was perfect. His last thoughts were that his bed felt too good and maybe he might regret his life choices when he woke up with his pending hellacious hangover–and then nothing. Until he felt the stomach churning sensation that he was falling, too dead asleep to realize it was only his head. Blaine’s entire body reacted.
He gasped for air like he was drowning, hazel eyes flung open wide and every limb seemed to scramble for something to kick or hang onto–the side of the bed worked–to keep himself from meeting his doom on the floor. His mind didn’t quite make sense of anything either and he shouted in panic. “OH God! I’m FALL–,” his scream made his temples burst and splinter up his skull. Blaine buried his face back down into the sheet, hand waving as if to say he was okay before he cracked an eye open and peeked up at–Kurt instantly blushing ten shades of red. “That wasn’t okay.. That was not okay..oh God my head hurts…” Groaning–he covered his face with his arm and fell back onto the bed wanting nothing more than to lay there.
He couldn’t stay there forever. Sleeping on the floor sounded easy enough but Kurt was not willing to go to such an extreme, that would just be embarrassing. He scooted aside and opened up the cabinet. ‘What’s wrong’? At the moment he wanted nothing more than to curl up and sleep. He still had to change clothes… And answer Blaine. Found the aspirin at least. He slowly rose to his feet and heaved a heavy sigh. He stopped there, leaned on the counter and avoiding his own reflection – he’s positive that he has to look as bad as he feels at the moment – in favor of shaking a few pills out of the little bottle and taking them with some tap water. Kurt cleared his throat before speaking. “Don’t worry. Just a stomach ache.” He said as he finally opened the door.
More silence. Blaine was about ready to take it as a sign to back off when he heard Kurt rustling around. Another concerned glance was aimed at the door before he took a few steps back and loosely crossed his arms over his chest. Still no answer. Picking up his left hand from where it cupped his right elbow, Blaine rubbed the back of his neck and turned around only to pause at the sound of the door opening and Kurt’s voice. Looking back–his same worried expression moved across Kurt’s pallid complexion and dark undereye circles. “Just a stomach ache?” He gave Kurt a lopsided curve of his lips and rubbed the side of his pointer finger against the tip of his nose flicking the others outward like he was erasing the forced smile so he could give him a real one. “You don’t look so–,” he stopped and tried to tell himself it wasn’t his business. But? Feeling like he had to make sure Kurt was okay considering how worse for wear he looked wasn’t so easy to shake. Was it his place?
Kurt was already hiding out in the bathroom. Maybe he wanted to be left alone so he could sleep it off? Way to overthink, Blaine. “Anything I can do? Or I can step out and let you rest? Sorry,” he sighed embarrassedly towards the floor then peeked back up with a guilty grin. “I know you can take care of yourself. Guess I was worried. Considering where you’ve been locked away?”
“Are you sure? Can I get you anything,” he asked leaning on his shoulder propped against the doorframe. Blaine was tone was full of worry and he didn’t believe Kurt was okay anymore. He was inside the bathroom far too long for a simple way off schedule nightly skincare routine keeping him in there. “Kurt,” his head bowed and he stared at his bare toes wiggling against the polished hardwood floor. Frowning deeply at the silence–he glanced at the door wishing the wood would disappear so he could see him and tell what was the matter. Instead? He had to ask and hope Kurt would answer truthfully this time. Maybe he should back off? One more try and he might. Pushing him wasn’t something he wanted to do more than he already was. “What’s wrong?”
He couldn’t bring himself to do anything but accept the help. He’s been out here for a while he’s pretty sure, he can walk to the car just fine but when Blaine gave him something to lean on he didn’t protest. He did however worry about his aches that seemed to be just about everywhere – even if it only felt that way – being pressed on if he actually accepted that help. It wasn’t far. He didn’t realize how cold he was until sitting down and at that point it was a miracle he wasn’t shaking in his boots. A small smile tugged at the corner of Kurt’s lips just briefly when during all of this, he felt bad for his boots being twice as scuffed up as they were before. Incredible. Blaine returned with a shirt then, and Kurt hesitated a moment before setting it on his lap and pulling off his own. He put the t-shirt on quickly to avoid the cold as much as possible. For his own dignity he’d pretend he didn’t wince at the movement.
All in all his stomach was worst, shoulders and upper back not too happy either but between those and his elbows down he’s not sure. He’d actually care to figure out later but right now he just knows that those places ache – brick wall, shoulder scraped, didn’t fall–hair pulled, hit the ground, stop thinking, when will he stop kicking already, stop – and generally why. He pointlessly tried to cover his forearms – makeshift shields doubling as landing gear, and handles for the man – and look at anything other than himself so he looked towards Blaine again. Another dry swallow before he spoke. “…You’re soaked too.”
Blaine sat on his haunches beside the car like he was protectively waiting for Kurt to get comfortable. He was glad that he took the shirt to use fit just wanting to make Kurt feel somewhat better. Though completely okay was going to be far off by the looks of him. If he could help? Giving him a shirt and a dry place to sit was the least he could do. When Kurt pulled his shirt off and revealed the damage to the rest of his body? His blood ran cold before he quickly averted his gaze to the floorboard of his car trying to give Kurt privacy until he was covered up and hide a flare of perhaps oddly risen anger for a near stranger to have that much hurt inflicted upon them. Once again he found himself asking who could do something so awful to someone else.
Jarred back at the sound of Kurt’s voice–Blaine jerked his attention up and blinked a couple times. Right! He’d dropped his soggy mess of a newspaper once he took hold of Kurt. But he was already getting drenched before that. Now? Squatting in the drizzling rain? His hair was plastered to his forehead and his clothes were dripping wet. “Oh. Oh,” he batted at the air biting the corner of a sheepish grin before he stood up. “I’ll–uh–one second.” A delicate pull closed Kurt’s door until it was an inch or so away from begin shut completely–he’d let Kurt do that if he chose. Blaine hurridely crossed in front of the car to the driver’s side. “Guess I could warm us both up instead of sitting out there like an idiot,” he embarrassedly laughed after starting up the car and shutting his door. “I–um. Do you want to go home? Or–do you have a place to go? You can come with me and we can put you in better shape before you go home. But I live a ways away. Whatever you decide–I just–I want to make sure you’re going to be okay.”
“I promise.” He said softly. Kurt couldn’t describe how great it felt that he could calm Blaine down. That he was allowed to hold him like this. He wondered if it would be more poetic or humorous if he were an undead creature, how his heart seemed to stop when Blaine kissed him. Technically he might be, depending on the definition. He was killed but brought back as something else. He had a heart and a pulse just the same as any living creature. A different kind, but it was there. This was something he usually thought about in his spare time, not a serious situation. But honestly, when he felt Blaine cupping his face it was just so familiar it was heartbreaking.
Blaine wasn’t the last person he’s kissed anymore until that moment. Interesting from a distance how he could not only leave without a word but let himself be with someone else. If it crossed his mind then he’d be guilty, but he was hardly thinking for the time being aside from a simple ‘Don’t thank me’– He wasn’t lying but he might not be the right person to be here for Blaine. At this point it might be entirely selfish. That wasn’t about to stop him. He already was here. If he was going to keep his distance then he wouldn’t have come at all. This might not be good for either of them. Mostly, this might do more damage than good for Blaine. What was going to happen when he asked questions the next time? How many details would he have to tell him? Lying, and cheating, and dying and killing- maybe what went through his head during any given part of the story. It was a long story.
He did miss Blaine. He missed when this felt like home. Kurt didn’t have a person to call that as things are. Holding Blaine was like sleeping in his old room again; he wanted to be there but it was strangely…Crushing.
Red-laced hazel eyes softened at Kurt’s promise, staring up into the eyes that his brain refused to think of anything other than familiar. In spite of how they changed–Blaine was getting awfully good at lying to himself and pretending hard enough that he could believe what he convinced himself of to get by. His fingers curled against Kurt’s cheeks gliding his knuckles in a tender caress down the sides of his neck until they dropped to his shoulders. There were so many questions teetering on the fragile tightrope inside his mind that he walked across. But–in the end–he couldn’t bring himself to ask them because he wasn’t sure he could take the answers. Not yet. Not now. Not when he had Kurt’s arms still around him and that unending sway.
Instead–he clutched onto Kurt and let the weight of months of ache, worry, and losing his mind slide away. It could be the most dangerous thing he could do–sure. Falling back into the gravity that he lost when Kurt disappeared though? It wasn’t something he wanted to fight. He’d been waiting for so long for this. Now, he had it. Another brush of lips against the edge of Kurt’s then Blaine tucked his head down. Exhaling hard–he sagged against him and stayed there savoring how their chests rose and fell. His weight Kurt supported increased little by little over the span of minutes. The more he let go of the exhaustion he’d been holding back, the heavier it sank in just how much was waiting to catch up. He could fall asleep on his feet this felt so warm and perfect and–
He sharply sniffed, blinking back awake. Was he really drifting off? –No. Wake up. You just got him back. Wake up!– “Sorry–I’m awake.” Was it weird that an old bad habit of shaking off sleep was something that made him smile lazily because he let it? In comparison to not being able to? That this felt so much better. In the past? Before Kurt left? It was because he wanted their time together to not end. Be it cuddling, talking–other things. Blaine leaned back enough that he could look up at Kurt’s jaw as another wave of sleep lost the battle against his willpower but his legs feeling like they were in cement? Not so much. “Can we just lay down?”
Wreck was right. He wanted to speak, he did, but he wasn’t even sure what to say. A part of him wanted to just walk away because he was not about to trust a stranger with his well being, and like hell he couldn’t take care of himself, but with the state he’s in, clearly he isn’t as capable as he liked to think.
–Ambulance.” He looked at his own feet now. Kurt did not like the sound of that. He wasn’t afraid of hospitals exactly, he just felt unease there. And more importantly, walking into a hospital like this would mean his parents will know what he gets up to. The fact he’d have to talk to police in that case completely slipped his mind, none the less how badly that would work out(Even if they did listen to the drug using gay kid in Lima, sending police after the guy who did this probably wouldn’t help Kurt’s situation.
He didn’t flinch when Blaine touched him, rather, he only tore his eyes from the concrete and looked at him. What on Earth was this kid going to do? Take him home like a lost puppy and tell his parents what? But Kurt didn’t want to be out here anymore. He wanted to think that this might help so with a deep breath, he took his hand. “Okay.” His voice was rough and fairly quiet, but it was something.
Blaine waited hoping that Kurt would listen and he wouldn’t have to call 911.
Wouldn’t your first instinct be to call your parents if you were in the shape he was? Obviously–that didn’t happen so it was easy to deduce Kurt was either on his way home himself. Or in some sort of shock and avoiding it thinking he could handle it himself. Probably the second? Call him crazy but he had an inkling that Kurt probably wouldn’t want his parents seeing him like this. If that wasn’t the case? He would have gone him instead of wandering around lost and hurting.
God he had to be hurting and it made Blaine’s heart ache. Who cared if they barely knew each other? He couldn’t call himself a human being if he found someone tattered and torn up the way Kurt was and not feel horrible. Anyway. Kurt was the one that mattered and Blaine was determined to help him on his terms. Seeing him not flinch gave him hope he might listen. Their eyes met and Blaine’s went round before he snapped a wobbly, encouraging smile on. Along to where? He wasn’t sure but getting out of this spitting rain and cleaning him up would be a great start. Then Kurt’s hand was in his and he nodded to the grungy ‘okay’. He’d take it and run with it at this point.
One last look and he thought one better. Coming to stand at Kurt’s side–Blaine gingerly used their joined hands to place Kurt’s arm across his shoulders while he wrapped his arm around Kurt’s waist just above his hips trying to avoid hurting him any further. “You can lean on me if you need to. I got you.” A few feet later–Blaine shouldered open the door to his car and helped him inside. Then scrambled into the back, unzipped a bag and grabbed out the first Dalton t-shirt he saw. A nudge of his heel closed the back door and he was back at the passenger side not seeming to notice he was still in the rain when he handed Kurt the shirt and smiled. “Pointing out the obvious here but you’re soaked. Here. Use this.”
The Lima Bean. Of course he wound up there. For some reason he didn’t want to go in. He just wanted to sit down. He reminds himself that inside would be better but he can’t change the path of his shuffle. There was someone out there. What on earth made him look like he was willing to talk? A moment later he realized it was one of those Dalton boys. The one that wasn’t phased by Kurt and bought him a coffee. Blaine. Blaine was talking- right. Kurt’s slow walk came to a stop. He opened his mouth to speak but nothing came out. He might have wheezed or whined. What was the question again? He shook his head before trying to wipe the line of blood from his temple – the first hit once he was cornered–don’t think about it – that kept getting into his eye when he stood like he did now; with most of his weight on his left foot because his right leg hurt worse and the rain diluted the blood to make it run more and faster. Where did his breath go? He swallowed dryly and stared at Blaine’s shoes, for once it was easier to look at those than at his face. He remembered the man’s shoes, decent dress shoes but Kurt had a nicer pair back home and a feeling that the guy wanted to feel extra tough by dressing nice to beat some kid in the rain. Right, he said that out loud at the time. That’s why his forearms hurt, the man had a very strong grip and yanked him up from where he was coughing on all fours.
Kurt shook his head again.
“Kurt,” he repeated more insistently this time trying to get the slightly taller boy to tune into him completely. Blaine cringed when the entirety of Kurt’s current state finally sank in. He was an utter wreck. Who could do this to someone else? Unfortunately, Blaine knew the answer all too well. Ohio seemed to be packed full of cretins that had nothing better to do with their time than break people apart who didn’t fit the bill of the ‘perfect person’ they considered themselves to be. Mostly verbally, mentally but when it got physical? It was brutal, without remorse, and utterly stomach churning to see the aftermath of. Hazel eyes flicked up to watch as Kurt tried to wipe some of the blood of his skin and Blaine ached to reach out and help but he wasn’t sure if he should dare attempt to touch him. Not until he was certain that Kurt would even allow it without swinging at him on autopilot. Sure, Blaine knew he could take a punch and probably get out of the way. But riling Kurt up wouldn’t work out okay for either one of them. “You do need help. You need it really bad,” Blaine’s voice was pleading for Kurt to listen to him. “Let me, please? Or I am going to call an ambulance.” A soft touch of his fingertips to the back of Kurt’s hand boldly tried to get Kurt to follow two backwards steps towards the passenger side of his car before it drop down chest high and hovering in the air with his palm facing up, fingers loosely curled towards the sky. –Take my hand. Please take my hand and let me help you.– “We can get out of the rain first. My car’s right here,” he thumbed over his shoulder and gently eased his still extended hand closer to Kurt’s waiting to see if he would trust him enough to take it.
Never in his life has he felt more like a cliche. He might not have even seen such a cliche before, and that was saying something. But here he was, soaking wet from the rain, his skin decorated in bruises and scrapes that were still getting darker. He’s been kicked all to hell and fought just as hard, but in the end he lost and now just looked like some junkie wishing he could find a place to stay dry long enough to light a cigarette. He’s not even sure if he has an addiction, but he uses regularly enough to fit the bill of this particular scene and that’s what counted. What fun. More importantly, he couldn’t go home and be seen like this. Under normal circumstances – normal usually being coming down from whatever he used or more rarely drank, and/or having successfully left with and ditched some sad stranger – he could just slip in through his window and be perfectly fine in the morning. This wasn’t like that though. It wasn’t even one of his late night escapades. The day was peaceful and sober and there was always less temptation to do things he shouldn’t. It was after eight or nine he’s pretty sure because of his timing on going home and when he was grabbed but after that…
He knew there might be some trouble when he started hanging around that guy, he just didn’t think it would end up like this. Kurt wound up on his bad side for a few days without anything but some glares sent his way until now.
He’s pretty sure that he’s in shock, honestly. Bits and pieces of the evening were coming back in waves while others escaped him entirely. For the time being he had to hope his autopilot would just let him walk aimlessly and thank god that it was only drizzling now.
Blaine held out inside the small cafe he’d met Trent at with hope that the rain would die off so he could make a dash to his car without getting soaked to the bone. A half an hour later? So much for a weekend trip to Lima so he could spend the weekend with his aunt and uncle –and simultaneously brainstorm ideas for Regionals after talking them into letting Trent spend the entire weekend there– ending on a good note. If he wanted to get home in any timeframe before midnight–he had to go now. Groaning, he cursed the fact that he forgot to bring an umbrella. Desperate times calling for desperate measures. He bought a paper to use as a makeshift umbrella. Sure the idea was dumb possibly. He knew going into it that a pressed together pile of papers was only going to delay the inevitable. Stepping out at the first sign of the rain lightening up a bit with his poor attempt at cover instantly sagging overhead–the Warbler started jogging the two blocks between him and his car, keys poised in hand with his thumb on the fob. Splashing noises came up from his loafers squishing bare feet inside grossly against the soles. Oh that just felt awful! His nose crinkled at a particularly loud smoosh! that he swore he could feel up both legs. The rain let up to a drizzle but his soggy newspaper had yet to be lowered when he caught sight of a vaguely familiar person wandering towards him. It brought him to a stop–head cocked to the side and a puzzled expression burrowed his brows as he tried to connect the dots. A snide comment about Dalton Boys popped into his memory. The Lima Bean and a boy who caught his attention first by his look and then had him baffled by what came out of his mouth. Kurt? Yes. Kurt. What was he doing in the rain? The closer he got, however? Blaine’s confused smile turned into a concerned frown as he noticed the state he was in. Then it hit the bottom of his shoes once he got a good look. “Um–Kurt,” he asked letting the paper and his arm fall to his side. “Kurt–is that–Hey do you need help?”
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