Fic: Syncopation (6/7)
Summary: When standing still is not an option, you just have to find a way to keep dancing anyway.
Rating: probably going to hit R/NC-17 eventually, lower for now.
A/N: Warnings for Burt being sick! Slight age difference between Kurt and Blaine (third year at NYADA and high school senior).
Kurt wakes up the next day knowing there's going to be another visit to the hospital, a talk with a doctor, an adjustment to his dad's diet and exercise routine and medication. He assumes it's what life is going to be like to a huge extent from now on. His dad is not a healthy man, and while he does seem to be recovering, there is really no telling when the next thing is going to go wrong.
He spends too much time that morning cleaning the kitchen after breakfast, leaves it to Carole to pack a bag for his dad to take to the hospital for him. He'll want a few of his own things. Who knows how many days they'll have to keep him in that hospital bed.
Kurt keeps his phone close by because Blaine keeps texting him, and even if he knows he has to be with his family today, wants to be with his family today, he still likes having this connection with Blaine throughout the day. He still feels like he needs him, feels greedy for him, can't quite stop himself from counting the minutes to their next kiss.
Tomorrow, he tells himself. Hang in there until tomorrow and you can have more Blaine, just get by until tomorrow.
He has the weekend off from work - another perk of working for someone who knows you and cares about you. And he tries very hard to be grateful for the break, tries not to wish he could leave this house and forget for just an hour or two. Because as much as he wants to forget all of this and not have to deal with it, being here is all he wants at the same time.
“Ready to go?” Carole asks, standing in the kitchen doorway with a travel bag full of his dad's stuff.
He puts down the all-purpose cleaner, lets his eyes roam over the freshly polished surfaces. At least the house is spotless thanks to the events of yesterday - creating order outwardly has always helped him to achieve a sense of calm on the inside as well.
“Ready,” he confirms.
They don't talk much in the car; Kurt doesn't know how to start a conversation today, doesn't know what to say to her. More than ever he's aware of how essential she has become not only to his dad but to him as well. Carole is family. He'd be lost without her. He hopes she doesn't take his silence the wrong way, but he simply cannot find the words right now.
His dad is awake when they enter his room, nodding at something the nurse is saying to him from where she's adjusting something on the tray next to his bed.
“Hey dad,” Kurt says, carefully closing the door behind them, and his dad turns his head, smiles.
Kurt waits, hands in his pockets, standing next to the door as Carole walks over with sure steps to take his father's hand and press a quick kiss to the top of his head.
“How are you feeling?” she asks him, and he squeezes her hand.
“I'm fine.”
Kurt raises an eyebrow at him and Carole sighs, shakes her head. “Okay. And how are you really feeling?”
He laughs. “Like I'm in a hospital bed while my family is worried about me yet again. I just wish I could be home with you guys.”
“Burt, this was not nothing,” Carole says, looking down at him sternly, and he stares back at her as if to argue.
The nurse clears her throat, looking between them. “I'll get out of your hair,” she says, quickly makes for the door, giving Kurt a quick but gentle smile in passing.
He smiles back tightly, feeling jittery and young and completely overwhelmed with the reality of their situation now that they're here in the hospital, surrounded by the smell of disinfectant and walls painted in a weird lime green that makes him want to close his eyes and cry with how much it emphasizes that this is not home. None of this is as it should be.
His dad and Carole keep talking in overly calm voices as soon as the three of them are alone in the room, his father insisting that he's fine and Carole disagreeing politely, reminding him that he's in a hospital and they have the right to be concerned about him. It's not a fight, he knows that. His dad knows they're concerned and they both know that his dad has a tendency for downplaying his own illness. Today, it still rubs him the wrong way, like salt in an open wound. This is not something to be downplayed and to laugh about. This is his father's life.
He keeps standing awkwardly a few feet away from the bed and keeps quiet - he doesn't know what to say, only knows that he suddenly feels drained, tired, raw from the fright and stress of the previous day. It's just all too much.
“Well anyway,” Carole informs him in a firm voice as Kurt makes himself listen to them again, “I'm going to find your doctor and talk to him and we'll have this cleared up in no time.”
“Carole -” Burt starts, but she shakes her head and squeezes his arm.
“Don't argue.”
He deflates visibly, smiles at her softly. “I wouldn't dream of it.”
“Good.” With another smile at him she turns on her heels and is walking from the room, and as the door clicks softly closed behind her, Kurt suddenly finds himself all alone with his father.
For a second, it's awkward. He just doesn't know what to say. Shouldn't he know what to say to his own father? But he just - can't.
“You okay buddy?” his dad asks, and Kurt meets his eyes, jolted from his thoughts, feels overwhelmingly guilty at the worried look on his father's face.
“I should be the one to ask you that,” he points out, shrugs.
“I'm fine.”
“Dad!”
“I know. I'm sorry. But I want to be fine. I'm really sorry I keep doing this to you, I wish -”
“We all know you didn't do it on purpose,” Kurt tells him, finally gets his feet to obey him and walk over the few steps to the chair next to his dad's bed. He sits down carefully on the edge of it. “I know this wasn't an evil plot of yours to get fluid in your lungs and have to be put on oxygen. I know that.”
“I'd definitely prefer to stay out of the hospital from now on,” his dad confirms.
Kurt nods. “I'd prefer that too. I really would.”
His dad pauses, looks at him with his head resting back against the pillow that props him up, eyes unreadable. “Kurt, are you okay?”
He shrugs, bites his lip, studies his hands that he has folded in his lap. And he knows it's no use trying to fool his father, there's no one who knows him better. After the past day, he knows there's no sense in pretending anymore, there's no use trying to act like this isn't real. This is real. It's real and it's scary and he doesn't want any of it. But in his entire life, he has never run from a fight. Not even when it would have been smarter to do so. This time, he knows it's necessary that he face his fears head on.
“I'm scared, dad.”
His father nods, sighs. “I know, kiddo. And I didn't mean to end up here again. I -”
“That's not what I -” Kurt breaks off, takes a shaky breath, lifts his eyes to meet his dad's. “Dad, I just don't know what to do.”
“You don't have to do anything, Kurt.”
“I feel like I can't do anything,” Kurt admits. “I don't like that. And - I feel like I am the one who should be apologizing to you.”
His father looks stunned. “What? Kurt you have nothing to -”
“I've been distant,” Kurt keeps talking, afraid he won't find the courage again if he stops now. “And I know it. I didn't want to be, but - I couldn't help it. I didn't know what to do. I came back here to be there for you, and then I just -”
“I know why you came back here,” his dad interrupts. “And you know I appreciate you being here and taking care of your old father, but you know I wouldn't have asked it of you, I never -”
“You shouldn't have to ask,” Kurt cuts him off. “You should never have to ask for this. For any of this, really. We are your family, Carole and I. We're here for you. Well. She is. I haven't been. But I'm going to be now, dad. I promise you that. I want to be.”
“I have to admit,” Burt says, still looking at him, “that I'm not quite sure what you're talking about. You gave up that internship that you really wanted to come back here the minute Carole called you. I feel bad enough for that. Are you telling me that you still think it isn't enough?”
“We haven't even really talked since I got back,” Kurt says quietly, and suddenly he feels unsure.
“We can talk now, if you want,” his dad offers. “You know I'm here for you if you want to talk.”
“That's not what I mean,” Kurt says. “What I mean is - dad, if it had been me, if I were the one being sick, you'd be there for me.”
“So who's the one making sure I eat right and taking care of keeping the garage running while I'm sitting around on my ass uselessly?” his dad asks.
“I've always told you what to eat,” Kurt reminds him. “Even before all of this. And as for the garage, you could easily put one of your people in charge, you don't need me for that.”
“And yet you're still here doing it,” his dad reminds him.
“Because it's all I can do,” Kurt points out. “Everything else is just -” he shrugs helplessly, grimaces. “I'm sorry, dad.”
“Kurt.” His father struggles to sit up and Kurt is out of his chair in a second to push him back down onto the bed.
“What do you think you're doing, you have to -”
His father sinks back into his pillow, opens his mouth to argue, then deflates, grins instead. “See?” he says. “This is exactly what I mean.”
“I don't understand.”
“Do you honestly think you're not doing enough? Kurt, we've been taking care of each other for years. Hell, even when you were a little kid I sometimes wasn't sure which of us was the parent, you've always been ordering me around and making sure that I was eating my vegetables and taking my shoes off by the door.”
“You wouldn't do it otherwise.”
“But it's always been this way, Kurt,” he points out. “So what are you saying? I'm gonna think you don't wanna be here because this is hard on you and you need some time to yourself sometimes?”
“I don't want you to think that I don't want to be here, dad,” he says, voice a little choked. “I do want to be here.”
“I know that, kiddo,” his dad says, taking his hand, staring him down until Kurt sits back down in his chair. “Of course I know that.”
“I don't always feel like I do,” Kurt admits.
“We got each other's backs, right?” his dad asks. “We always had. We're a team, you and me.”
Kurt nods. “We are. Of course we are!”
“Good. Because that means you're allowed to take a break sometimes too. You know? You always take care of me, Kurt. But it's hard, never getting a break from this. It's a lot. I know that.”
“You don't get a break from it either.”
His dad laughs. “Of course I do. I'm feeling okay most days. And those times we're just sitting together and watching TV or talking or whatever, of course I get a break. This sucks, it really does, but we can't let it take the good things from us. Okay?”
“I don't want to lose the good things,” Kurt agrees. Isn't that the whole problem? He doesn't want to lose any of the things they have as a family. Not any more than they have already lost, he's so tired of loss. And he knows it never ends, but he can't lose his dad, not yet, not for a long time. He just can't.
“Then stop being so hard on yourself,” his dad says. “You've never let me down, Kurt. Not once. And you're not doing it now. You can stay in Lima and fuss over me and tell me what to eat and when to exercise until your internship is over. You can boss me around all you want and you know I'm gonna enjoy every second of it, even if I complain. And then you're going back to New York and we're going to be fine, okay?”
“I just want to -”
“I'm glad you're here,” his dad tells him. “And I know you want to be here. But you're not putting your life on hold for me. I won't allow that.”
“You'd do it for me,” Kurt protests.
“Remember that time when you wanted that solo in glee club?”
“Which time?”
His dad laughs. “You wanted to sing that girl song and they didn't want to let you try out. I went to Figgins and threw a fit in his office. Schuester looked like he was gonna pee himself.”
Kurt smiles. “I remember.”
“You remember too how after everything you and I went through so you had a fair chance like everyone else, you gave up your solo to protect me from a few weird phone calls?”
“Dad, that wasn't -”
“Never think,” his dad says, squeezes his hand, looking right into his eyes, “that I don't know that you care about me. I know that you hold yourself to impossible standards, Kurt. But the best thing you can ever do to make me happy is to live your life exactly the way you want it to.”
Kurt nods and doesn't cry and holds his dad's hand until Carole returns with the doctor.
He's still not sure he's doing everything he can for his family. But at least he had a real conversation with his father.
It's a start.
**
It's late by the time they get home and Kurt gets a chance to sit down - his dad is staying in the hospital for observation and a few more tests for one more night, so suddenly he has the entire night off instead of having to run around taking care of things.
He sits down for a late dinner with Carole, just sandwiches and a quickly thrown-together salad, and they're both too exhausted to talk much. Kurt feels all talked out anyway - he's spent the entire day with his dad and while they'd steered clear of anything too serious after their brief talk that morning, he knows it's still the most they've talked in weeks. Even if the topics had been light and inconsequential. He knows it doesn't matter, not right now. What matters is spending time together. What matters is being a family and taking care of each other the way they've always done, and he hopes his dad understood what he tried to tell him.
He hopes his dad knows that Kurt loves him. Because even if he's not always the best at showing it, he does. He loves his family, and he'd do anything for them. He includes Carole in that, the same way he'd always included Finn. The same way he still includes his mom.
“What do you think,” Carole says, as they're cleaning up after dinner, with her washing the dishes and him drying, “should we watch a movie your father would never agree to or just go to bed early?”
“I am kind of exhausted,” he says, hesitates, thinks about it. “But I don't know if we can pass up the opportunity to watch The Notebook together. Without dad silently judging us from behind the sports section of yesterday's paper.”
She smiles at him gratefully, nods. “I was hoping you'd say that.”
They settle in the living room with some tea, both of them very pointedly not looking at the empty armchair in the corner as they make themselves comfortable at opposite ends of the couch. It's not as if the chair will stay permanently empty. His dad is not gone. He's just temporarily elsewhere. He'll be back soon enough to roll his eyes at them for sighing over Ryan Gosling.
“I think I haven't seen this movie since you moved out,” Carole admits.
Kurt grins at her. “I haven't either. I tried watching it with Rachel once but she wouldn't stop talking through it, so we went back to her DVD collection for movie night.”
“It's nice having someone in the house again who appreciates a good movie.” She leans back in her seat, smiles warmly.
He picks up the remote, nods. “I've missed our movie nights. Even with dad's running commentary concerning the lack of guns and car chases in our selections.”
They both fall silent at the reminder of his father's temporary absence, and Kurt starts the movie to save both of them from getting caught up in their worry and exhaustion again.
**
It's barely after ten by the time the end credits roll and Kurt finds he's not tired anymore; exhausted on a deep, emotional level, but not sleepy. He feels - restless.
Carole yawns on the other end of the couch, stretches her arms above her head. “I think I'm going to bed,” she says. “We have to be at the hospital tomorrow morning and it's been kind of … a day.”
“Yeah.” Kurt shakes his head, forces a smile. “Quite a day.”
“You staying up a while?”
He shrugs. “Guess I've missed my window of sleepiness. I think I'm going to go for a quick walk down to the pond, maybe that'll help.”
She hesitates. “I can go with you, if you want some company.”
He pushes himself up off the couch, shakes his head resolutely and smiles at her again, more real this time. “You're tired. And I just need a minute to clear my head anyway. I'll see you tomorrow.”
“Okay,” she says, gets up after him, and he doesn't resist when she pulls him down into a tight hug. “He's gonna be fine, Kurt. You know that, right?”
He hugs her back, and the support is just what he needs right now. “I know. He's going to be back here in no time complaining about the bland food and the forced exercise.”
She laughs, pulling back. “Exactly. Good night, Kurt.”
He waits until he hears her close the door to the upstairs bathroom before he pulls his shoes on, grabs his keys off the end table by the door, and selects a light summer jacket since the nights are getting colder this time of year.
A walk will help. Just some fresh air, a little exercise before bed to tire him out. He feels too wired to sleep, to even think of lying down and doing nothing. His brain won't shut up like this, so he needs to exhaust his body to make it be quiet for a few hours.
He slips his phone in his jacket pocket, softly pulls the front door shut behind himself. The night air greets him cool and clear, so much cleaner than in New York, so much quieter.
Sometimes, when he comes back to Ohio, he appreciates the quiet, the darkness, the clean air. Sometimes, it just feels like a void, like loneliness, like the black nothing that used to swallow up his voice for too many years. Tonight, it feels like not much of anything at all, except for the fact that it cools his face, makes his lungs expand with the overabundance of clean oxygen.
He stands on the front porch for just a moment, arms wrapped securely around his own chest, bites his lip lost in thought. Then he jolts himself out of his reverie, and starts walking, down the garden path and out onto the street.
He walks past the shop which is huge and dark in the night, past the pond where no one's walking at this hour, past the playground that sits empty and abandoned.
It's a ghost town at just half past ten; everyone at home behind closed doors, watching TV, arguing, reading, going to bed. And he knows that several hours from here New York is still lit up and busy, loud, full of people and life and opportunity, full of distraction and full of chances. He knows the loneliness lives there too, though. It doesn't need large, empty spaces to spread. It would only be worse if he were there instead of here.
His phone buzzes in his pocket and when he pulls it out it's past eleven and he's feeling even more awake from his brisk walk as he unlocks the screen. It's a text from Blaine.
Hey, just wanted to make sure everything went okay today. How are you?
The concern behind the words almost chokes him with gratitude; it means so much to be thought of, to have someone who cares to ask, someone who checks in to make sure he's handling things all right.
It went okay, he texts back. Thank you for checking in!
No problem, Blaine replies immediately. I was just thinking about you.
Kurt feels his breath hitch in his throat, stops walking and sits down on the low garden wall of the yard he's passing. Only good things I hope, he writes back.
Blaine's answer comes quickly. The best things. Are we still on for coffee tomorrow? Only if you have time, of course! I know you have a lot on your plate!
Kurt smiles to himself. You're not getting out of coffee with me! I've been looking forward to it since yesterday!
Good, Blaine answers. Because I miss you!
He just sits for a minute smiling helplessly - Blaine is ridiculous, but he's enjoying this. A little too much, maybe.
I wish it were tomorrow already, he texts him. But right now I should probably get home so I'll actually be awake to meet you.
You're still out? Blaine writes. That's a long day!
I was just taking a walk, Kurt assures him, looks up for a minute to look around. I seem to have gotten a little carried away though. I should probably turn around.
Where are you?
Almost all the way to the Lima Bean.
I'm just about to leave my friend's house, Blaine writes. I'm gonna drive home. I could pick you up and drop you off at your house.
Kurt sighs. It's such a tempting offer. And he is beginning to feel tired and it is a long walk back from here... Are you sure? I don't want to inconvenience you.
Kurt, Blaine writes back. Getting to see you is hardly what I'd call an inconvenience. I'll be in the Lima Bean parking lot in ten minutes.
Thank you! Kurt texts back, and pockets his phone to start walking. Not only will he not have to make his lonely way home through dark, abandoned streets, he'll get to see Blaine more than half a day earlier than they'd planned. This is a wonderful turn of events.
He's been waiting in the parking lot for maybe a minute when a car pulls up next to him, the driver's side window rolling down to reveal Blaine's smiling, handsome face. Kurt can't help it, doesn't even try to hide it, he smiles back, feels like the rest of the tension from the day just seeps out of him.
“Hi,” Blaine greets him.
Kurt walks around the car, pulls open the passenger side door to slide onto the seat. “Hi,” he greets back. “Thanks for doing this.”
“It's really no trouble at all,” Blaine assures him, and his eyes are so warm and gentle as they meet Kurt's across the short distance between their seats.
For a minute, they simply stare at each other and Kurt thinks he could so easily get lost in Blaine's face - he's beautiful. The most beautiful thing he's seen all day, and he's looking back at him as if he's happy to see him too, and in the midst of all this chaos, the steadiness of his presence feels soothing and necessary, smoothing over the frayed edges of his emotions.
Finally he manages to clear his throat, lower his eyes, and he can feel himself blush as he opens his mouth to find something to say.
“You were hanging out with a friend?”
Blaine nods. “My friend Nick lives just down the road, we were hanging out with a few of the Warblers.”
“How convenient for me,” Kurt says in a tone he hopes is flirty, blinks up at Blaine through his lashes.
Blaine laughs, shakes his head, looks a little flustered. “For me too,” he says in a hoarse voice, reaches across the space between them to take Kurt's hand in his. “I'm really glad it worked out this way.”
Kurt squeezes his fingers, and it's been one hell of a day and he's exhausted and it's late. But looking at Blaine, he feels almost too happy to breathe. “I''m really glad too.”
His hand feels too cold once Blaine pulls back to start driving, and he leans back in his seat, stares out into the darkness of small-town Ohio.
“Are you okay?” Blaine asks.
He sighs out, turns his head against the backrest so he can watch Blaine's lovely face in the soft light from the passing streetlamps. “I'm fine. Just - tired.”
“I'm sorry,” Blaine says. “I know it must have been a long few days for you.”
“It's all going to be all right,” Kurt says, repeating the mantra he's been holding onto for the past hours. “These things happen.”
“If there's anything I can do,” Blaine says, lifts his shoulders, smiles over at him briefly. “You'll tell me, right?”
Kurt raises an amused eyebrow at him. “You are currently driving me home.”
“That's really not a problem, I was just leaving anyway -”
“Well, it still qualifies as helping!”
“Even if I'm doing it out of selfish reasons?”
Kurt laughs. “Yes, even then. Maybe even more so, because it's flattering.”
Blaine rewards him with an embarrassed little laugh of his own and Kurt has to make himself stop watching him for the rest of the drive because he doesn't want to be creepy. But Blaine is just so very nice to look at.
The distance that would have taken Kurt more than half an hour to walk takes barely any time at all by car, and all too soon they're pulling up in front of Kurt's house, all the lights off except for the porch light and the single lamp in the hall, the soft light spilling out onto the driveway as Blaine cuts the engine.
“I'll walk you in,” Blaine says.
Kurt rolls his eyes at him but can't help the way his heart beats faster. “You're ridiculous.”
“Or maybe I'm just not ready to say goodnight to you yet.”
He doesn't know how to answer that, is afraid his voice won't work properly - Blaine makes him feel like he barely knows up from down. It's distracting. In the very best way possible.
By the time he's climbed out of his seat and is closing the car door behind himself, Blaine is already by his side, slides a warm hand down Kurt's arm in a way that makes him shiver all over, and takes his hand.
Kurt links their fingers without questioning it, his skin tingling where their palms press together as if charged with an electric current. He feels hungry for contact, drawn to Blaine as by gravity, and he cannot find a single reason in his heart or his head to resist this pull. He feels better with Blaine's hand in his, Blaine's warm body so close to his own as they walk their way up to the front door.
“Thanks for taking me home,” Kurt whispers as they turn to face each other just outside the light of the porch lamp.
“It was my pleasure,” Blaine assures him, and instead of letting go takes his other hand as well.
“I'll see you tomorrow?” Kurt asks. It comes out breathier than he's intended. He feels sixteen. Except for the fact that he never had this when was a teenager.
“I can't wait,” Blaine says, takes a careful half-step closer. “I'm looking forward to it.”
“Me too,” Kurt manages, mesmerized by the way Blaine's eyes look so sparkling even in the dim light surrounding them.
“Kurt.” Blaine laces their fingers tighter together, sways toward him the tiniest bit. “Can I kiss you?”
Kurt lets out a shuddering breath, feels like his chest isn't big enough to contain all the happiness and affection he's feeling. “You never have to ask me that,” he promises.
“Just making sure,” Blaine says, and Kurt leans in, cuts him off with a firm press of their lips against each other.
The kiss is slow and soft and nothing like the heated making out of the night before. Blaine lifts one hand to his face, cups Kurt's cheek and tilts his own head for a better angle, sighs softly into the kiss and Kurt can feel himself melt against him as Blaine's other arm wraps securely around his back.
He's kissed other boys before but he's never been kissed like this; there's a tenderness in Blaine's touch that makes his heart shiver and expand in his chest.
It's like Blaine knows what he needs, like he can just tell. All day, Kurt has had to hold on so tight, be in charge of everything. And now Blaine takes him in his arms and holds him up and makes him feel so warm and safe he feels like crying. He feels like if he wanted to let go, he could. Blaine is so gentle with him, touching him like it matters, and Kurt clings to him with weak arms and for the first time all day doesn't worry about a thing, knowing that right in this moment, Blaine will catch him if he falls.
When they finally break apart he feels dizzy, keeps his eyes closed for a second, revels in the feeling of Blaine's closeness, Blaine's breath against his cheek, Blaine's taste in his mouth. He opens his eyes to see Blaine's lips still wet from their kiss, Blaine's impossibly long, dark lashes fluttering open a second after Kurt opens his eyes.
He knows it's a short reprieve from the chaos that is his life, but that just makes him all the more grateful for it, all the more grateful for Blaine.
“Thank you,” Blaine breathes, and Kurt smiles, closes his eyes again, tilts their foreheads together.
On an impulse, he tightens his arms around Blaine, buries his face against the lovely curve of his neck and breathes in deeply. Blaine hugs him back just as tightly, laughs softly into his shoulder.
“I should be the one thanking you,” Kurt tells him.
Blaine pulls back, looks into his eyes, and shakes his head a little with a soft grin tugging at the corners of his mouth.
“Text me? About tomorrow?”
“Of course,” Kurt says.
With another brief, gentle kiss to his lips Blaine finally takes a step back, smiles at him one more time, and walks away to his car.
Kurt lets himself into the dark and quiet house and thinks that maybe he'll sleep well tonight after all.
Rating: probably going to hit R/NC-17 eventually, lower for now.
A/N: Warnings for Burt being sick! Slight age difference between Kurt and Blaine (third year at NYADA and high school senior).
Kurt wakes up the next day knowing there's going to be another visit to the hospital, a talk with a doctor, an adjustment to his dad's diet and exercise routine and medication. He assumes it's what life is going to be like to a huge extent from now on. His dad is not a healthy man, and while he does seem to be recovering, there is really no telling when the next thing is going to go wrong.
He spends too much time that morning cleaning the kitchen after breakfast, leaves it to Carole to pack a bag for his dad to take to the hospital for him. He'll want a few of his own things. Who knows how many days they'll have to keep him in that hospital bed.
Kurt keeps his phone close by because Blaine keeps texting him, and even if he knows he has to be with his family today, wants to be with his family today, he still likes having this connection with Blaine throughout the day. He still feels like he needs him, feels greedy for him, can't quite stop himself from counting the minutes to their next kiss.
Tomorrow, he tells himself. Hang in there until tomorrow and you can have more Blaine, just get by until tomorrow.
He has the weekend off from work - another perk of working for someone who knows you and cares about you. And he tries very hard to be grateful for the break, tries not to wish he could leave this house and forget for just an hour or two. Because as much as he wants to forget all of this and not have to deal with it, being here is all he wants at the same time.
“Ready to go?” Carole asks, standing in the kitchen doorway with a travel bag full of his dad's stuff.
He puts down the all-purpose cleaner, lets his eyes roam over the freshly polished surfaces. At least the house is spotless thanks to the events of yesterday - creating order outwardly has always helped him to achieve a sense of calm on the inside as well.
“Ready,” he confirms.
They don't talk much in the car; Kurt doesn't know how to start a conversation today, doesn't know what to say to her. More than ever he's aware of how essential she has become not only to his dad but to him as well. Carole is family. He'd be lost without her. He hopes she doesn't take his silence the wrong way, but he simply cannot find the words right now.
His dad is awake when they enter his room, nodding at something the nurse is saying to him from where she's adjusting something on the tray next to his bed.
“Hey dad,” Kurt says, carefully closing the door behind them, and his dad turns his head, smiles.
Kurt waits, hands in his pockets, standing next to the door as Carole walks over with sure steps to take his father's hand and press a quick kiss to the top of his head.
“How are you feeling?” she asks him, and he squeezes her hand.
“I'm fine.”
Kurt raises an eyebrow at him and Carole sighs, shakes her head. “Okay. And how are you really feeling?”
He laughs. “Like I'm in a hospital bed while my family is worried about me yet again. I just wish I could be home with you guys.”
“Burt, this was not nothing,” Carole says, looking down at him sternly, and he stares back at her as if to argue.
The nurse clears her throat, looking between them. “I'll get out of your hair,” she says, quickly makes for the door, giving Kurt a quick but gentle smile in passing.
He smiles back tightly, feeling jittery and young and completely overwhelmed with the reality of their situation now that they're here in the hospital, surrounded by the smell of disinfectant and walls painted in a weird lime green that makes him want to close his eyes and cry with how much it emphasizes that this is not home. None of this is as it should be.
His dad and Carole keep talking in overly calm voices as soon as the three of them are alone in the room, his father insisting that he's fine and Carole disagreeing politely, reminding him that he's in a hospital and they have the right to be concerned about him. It's not a fight, he knows that. His dad knows they're concerned and they both know that his dad has a tendency for downplaying his own illness. Today, it still rubs him the wrong way, like salt in an open wound. This is not something to be downplayed and to laugh about. This is his father's life.
He keeps standing awkwardly a few feet away from the bed and keeps quiet - he doesn't know what to say, only knows that he suddenly feels drained, tired, raw from the fright and stress of the previous day. It's just all too much.
“Well anyway,” Carole informs him in a firm voice as Kurt makes himself listen to them again, “I'm going to find your doctor and talk to him and we'll have this cleared up in no time.”
“Carole -” Burt starts, but she shakes her head and squeezes his arm.
“Don't argue.”
He deflates visibly, smiles at her softly. “I wouldn't dream of it.”
“Good.” With another smile at him she turns on her heels and is walking from the room, and as the door clicks softly closed behind her, Kurt suddenly finds himself all alone with his father.
For a second, it's awkward. He just doesn't know what to say. Shouldn't he know what to say to his own father? But he just - can't.
“You okay buddy?” his dad asks, and Kurt meets his eyes, jolted from his thoughts, feels overwhelmingly guilty at the worried look on his father's face.
“I should be the one to ask you that,” he points out, shrugs.
“I'm fine.”
“Dad!”
“I know. I'm sorry. But I want to be fine. I'm really sorry I keep doing this to you, I wish -”
“We all know you didn't do it on purpose,” Kurt tells him, finally gets his feet to obey him and walk over the few steps to the chair next to his dad's bed. He sits down carefully on the edge of it. “I know this wasn't an evil plot of yours to get fluid in your lungs and have to be put on oxygen. I know that.”
“I'd definitely prefer to stay out of the hospital from now on,” his dad confirms.
Kurt nods. “I'd prefer that too. I really would.”
His dad pauses, looks at him with his head resting back against the pillow that props him up, eyes unreadable. “Kurt, are you okay?”
He shrugs, bites his lip, studies his hands that he has folded in his lap. And he knows it's no use trying to fool his father, there's no one who knows him better. After the past day, he knows there's no sense in pretending anymore, there's no use trying to act like this isn't real. This is real. It's real and it's scary and he doesn't want any of it. But in his entire life, he has never run from a fight. Not even when it would have been smarter to do so. This time, he knows it's necessary that he face his fears head on.
“I'm scared, dad.”
His father nods, sighs. “I know, kiddo. And I didn't mean to end up here again. I -”
“That's not what I -” Kurt breaks off, takes a shaky breath, lifts his eyes to meet his dad's. “Dad, I just don't know what to do.”
“You don't have to do anything, Kurt.”
“I feel like I can't do anything,” Kurt admits. “I don't like that. And - I feel like I am the one who should be apologizing to you.”
His father looks stunned. “What? Kurt you have nothing to -”
“I've been distant,” Kurt keeps talking, afraid he won't find the courage again if he stops now. “And I know it. I didn't want to be, but - I couldn't help it. I didn't know what to do. I came back here to be there for you, and then I just -”
“I know why you came back here,” his dad interrupts. “And you know I appreciate you being here and taking care of your old father, but you know I wouldn't have asked it of you, I never -”
“You shouldn't have to ask,” Kurt cuts him off. “You should never have to ask for this. For any of this, really. We are your family, Carole and I. We're here for you. Well. She is. I haven't been. But I'm going to be now, dad. I promise you that. I want to be.”
“I have to admit,” Burt says, still looking at him, “that I'm not quite sure what you're talking about. You gave up that internship that you really wanted to come back here the minute Carole called you. I feel bad enough for that. Are you telling me that you still think it isn't enough?”
“We haven't even really talked since I got back,” Kurt says quietly, and suddenly he feels unsure.
“We can talk now, if you want,” his dad offers. “You know I'm here for you if you want to talk.”
“That's not what I mean,” Kurt says. “What I mean is - dad, if it had been me, if I were the one being sick, you'd be there for me.”
“So who's the one making sure I eat right and taking care of keeping the garage running while I'm sitting around on my ass uselessly?” his dad asks.
“I've always told you what to eat,” Kurt reminds him. “Even before all of this. And as for the garage, you could easily put one of your people in charge, you don't need me for that.”
“And yet you're still here doing it,” his dad reminds him.
“Because it's all I can do,” Kurt points out. “Everything else is just -” he shrugs helplessly, grimaces. “I'm sorry, dad.”
“Kurt.” His father struggles to sit up and Kurt is out of his chair in a second to push him back down onto the bed.
“What do you think you're doing, you have to -”
His father sinks back into his pillow, opens his mouth to argue, then deflates, grins instead. “See?” he says. “This is exactly what I mean.”
“I don't understand.”
“Do you honestly think you're not doing enough? Kurt, we've been taking care of each other for years. Hell, even when you were a little kid I sometimes wasn't sure which of us was the parent, you've always been ordering me around and making sure that I was eating my vegetables and taking my shoes off by the door.”
“You wouldn't do it otherwise.”
“But it's always been this way, Kurt,” he points out. “So what are you saying? I'm gonna think you don't wanna be here because this is hard on you and you need some time to yourself sometimes?”
“I don't want you to think that I don't want to be here, dad,” he says, voice a little choked. “I do want to be here.”
“I know that, kiddo,” his dad says, taking his hand, staring him down until Kurt sits back down in his chair. “Of course I know that.”
“I don't always feel like I do,” Kurt admits.
“We got each other's backs, right?” his dad asks. “We always had. We're a team, you and me.”
Kurt nods. “We are. Of course we are!”
“Good. Because that means you're allowed to take a break sometimes too. You know? You always take care of me, Kurt. But it's hard, never getting a break from this. It's a lot. I know that.”
“You don't get a break from it either.”
His dad laughs. “Of course I do. I'm feeling okay most days. And those times we're just sitting together and watching TV or talking or whatever, of course I get a break. This sucks, it really does, but we can't let it take the good things from us. Okay?”
“I don't want to lose the good things,” Kurt agrees. Isn't that the whole problem? He doesn't want to lose any of the things they have as a family. Not any more than they have already lost, he's so tired of loss. And he knows it never ends, but he can't lose his dad, not yet, not for a long time. He just can't.
“Then stop being so hard on yourself,” his dad says. “You've never let me down, Kurt. Not once. And you're not doing it now. You can stay in Lima and fuss over me and tell me what to eat and when to exercise until your internship is over. You can boss me around all you want and you know I'm gonna enjoy every second of it, even if I complain. And then you're going back to New York and we're going to be fine, okay?”
“I just want to -”
“I'm glad you're here,” his dad tells him. “And I know you want to be here. But you're not putting your life on hold for me. I won't allow that.”
“You'd do it for me,” Kurt protests.
“Remember that time when you wanted that solo in glee club?”
“Which time?”
His dad laughs. “You wanted to sing that girl song and they didn't want to let you try out. I went to Figgins and threw a fit in his office. Schuester looked like he was gonna pee himself.”
Kurt smiles. “I remember.”
“You remember too how after everything you and I went through so you had a fair chance like everyone else, you gave up your solo to protect me from a few weird phone calls?”
“Dad, that wasn't -”
“Never think,” his dad says, squeezes his hand, looking right into his eyes, “that I don't know that you care about me. I know that you hold yourself to impossible standards, Kurt. But the best thing you can ever do to make me happy is to live your life exactly the way you want it to.”
Kurt nods and doesn't cry and holds his dad's hand until Carole returns with the doctor.
He's still not sure he's doing everything he can for his family. But at least he had a real conversation with his father.
It's a start.
**
It's late by the time they get home and Kurt gets a chance to sit down - his dad is staying in the hospital for observation and a few more tests for one more night, so suddenly he has the entire night off instead of having to run around taking care of things.
He sits down for a late dinner with Carole, just sandwiches and a quickly thrown-together salad, and they're both too exhausted to talk much. Kurt feels all talked out anyway - he's spent the entire day with his dad and while they'd steered clear of anything too serious after their brief talk that morning, he knows it's still the most they've talked in weeks. Even if the topics had been light and inconsequential. He knows it doesn't matter, not right now. What matters is spending time together. What matters is being a family and taking care of each other the way they've always done, and he hopes his dad understood what he tried to tell him.
He hopes his dad knows that Kurt loves him. Because even if he's not always the best at showing it, he does. He loves his family, and he'd do anything for them. He includes Carole in that, the same way he'd always included Finn. The same way he still includes his mom.
“What do you think,” Carole says, as they're cleaning up after dinner, with her washing the dishes and him drying, “should we watch a movie your father would never agree to or just go to bed early?”
“I am kind of exhausted,” he says, hesitates, thinks about it. “But I don't know if we can pass up the opportunity to watch The Notebook together. Without dad silently judging us from behind the sports section of yesterday's paper.”
She smiles at him gratefully, nods. “I was hoping you'd say that.”
They settle in the living room with some tea, both of them very pointedly not looking at the empty armchair in the corner as they make themselves comfortable at opposite ends of the couch. It's not as if the chair will stay permanently empty. His dad is not gone. He's just temporarily elsewhere. He'll be back soon enough to roll his eyes at them for sighing over Ryan Gosling.
“I think I haven't seen this movie since you moved out,” Carole admits.
Kurt grins at her. “I haven't either. I tried watching it with Rachel once but she wouldn't stop talking through it, so we went back to her DVD collection for movie night.”
“It's nice having someone in the house again who appreciates a good movie.” She leans back in her seat, smiles warmly.
He picks up the remote, nods. “I've missed our movie nights. Even with dad's running commentary concerning the lack of guns and car chases in our selections.”
They both fall silent at the reminder of his father's temporary absence, and Kurt starts the movie to save both of them from getting caught up in their worry and exhaustion again.
**
It's barely after ten by the time the end credits roll and Kurt finds he's not tired anymore; exhausted on a deep, emotional level, but not sleepy. He feels - restless.
Carole yawns on the other end of the couch, stretches her arms above her head. “I think I'm going to bed,” she says. “We have to be at the hospital tomorrow morning and it's been kind of … a day.”
“Yeah.” Kurt shakes his head, forces a smile. “Quite a day.”
“You staying up a while?”
He shrugs. “Guess I've missed my window of sleepiness. I think I'm going to go for a quick walk down to the pond, maybe that'll help.”
She hesitates. “I can go with you, if you want some company.”
He pushes himself up off the couch, shakes his head resolutely and smiles at her again, more real this time. “You're tired. And I just need a minute to clear my head anyway. I'll see you tomorrow.”
“Okay,” she says, gets up after him, and he doesn't resist when she pulls him down into a tight hug. “He's gonna be fine, Kurt. You know that, right?”
He hugs her back, and the support is just what he needs right now. “I know. He's going to be back here in no time complaining about the bland food and the forced exercise.”
She laughs, pulling back. “Exactly. Good night, Kurt.”
He waits until he hears her close the door to the upstairs bathroom before he pulls his shoes on, grabs his keys off the end table by the door, and selects a light summer jacket since the nights are getting colder this time of year.
A walk will help. Just some fresh air, a little exercise before bed to tire him out. He feels too wired to sleep, to even think of lying down and doing nothing. His brain won't shut up like this, so he needs to exhaust his body to make it be quiet for a few hours.
He slips his phone in his jacket pocket, softly pulls the front door shut behind himself. The night air greets him cool and clear, so much cleaner than in New York, so much quieter.
Sometimes, when he comes back to Ohio, he appreciates the quiet, the darkness, the clean air. Sometimes, it just feels like a void, like loneliness, like the black nothing that used to swallow up his voice for too many years. Tonight, it feels like not much of anything at all, except for the fact that it cools his face, makes his lungs expand with the overabundance of clean oxygen.
He stands on the front porch for just a moment, arms wrapped securely around his own chest, bites his lip lost in thought. Then he jolts himself out of his reverie, and starts walking, down the garden path and out onto the street.
He walks past the shop which is huge and dark in the night, past the pond where no one's walking at this hour, past the playground that sits empty and abandoned.
It's a ghost town at just half past ten; everyone at home behind closed doors, watching TV, arguing, reading, going to bed. And he knows that several hours from here New York is still lit up and busy, loud, full of people and life and opportunity, full of distraction and full of chances. He knows the loneliness lives there too, though. It doesn't need large, empty spaces to spread. It would only be worse if he were there instead of here.
His phone buzzes in his pocket and when he pulls it out it's past eleven and he's feeling even more awake from his brisk walk as he unlocks the screen. It's a text from Blaine.
Hey, just wanted to make sure everything went okay today. How are you?
The concern behind the words almost chokes him with gratitude; it means so much to be thought of, to have someone who cares to ask, someone who checks in to make sure he's handling things all right.
It went okay, he texts back. Thank you for checking in!
No problem, Blaine replies immediately. I was just thinking about you.
Kurt feels his breath hitch in his throat, stops walking and sits down on the low garden wall of the yard he's passing. Only good things I hope, he writes back.
Blaine's answer comes quickly. The best things. Are we still on for coffee tomorrow? Only if you have time, of course! I know you have a lot on your plate!
Kurt smiles to himself. You're not getting out of coffee with me! I've been looking forward to it since yesterday!
Good, Blaine answers. Because I miss you!
He just sits for a minute smiling helplessly - Blaine is ridiculous, but he's enjoying this. A little too much, maybe.
I wish it were tomorrow already, he texts him. But right now I should probably get home so I'll actually be awake to meet you.
You're still out? Blaine writes. That's a long day!
I was just taking a walk, Kurt assures him, looks up for a minute to look around. I seem to have gotten a little carried away though. I should probably turn around.
Where are you?
Almost all the way to the Lima Bean.
I'm just about to leave my friend's house, Blaine writes. I'm gonna drive home. I could pick you up and drop you off at your house.
Kurt sighs. It's such a tempting offer. And he is beginning to feel tired and it is a long walk back from here... Are you sure? I don't want to inconvenience you.
Kurt, Blaine writes back. Getting to see you is hardly what I'd call an inconvenience. I'll be in the Lima Bean parking lot in ten minutes.
Thank you! Kurt texts back, and pockets his phone to start walking. Not only will he not have to make his lonely way home through dark, abandoned streets, he'll get to see Blaine more than half a day earlier than they'd planned. This is a wonderful turn of events.
He's been waiting in the parking lot for maybe a minute when a car pulls up next to him, the driver's side window rolling down to reveal Blaine's smiling, handsome face. Kurt can't help it, doesn't even try to hide it, he smiles back, feels like the rest of the tension from the day just seeps out of him.
“Hi,” Blaine greets him.
Kurt walks around the car, pulls open the passenger side door to slide onto the seat. “Hi,” he greets back. “Thanks for doing this.”
“It's really no trouble at all,” Blaine assures him, and his eyes are so warm and gentle as they meet Kurt's across the short distance between their seats.
For a minute, they simply stare at each other and Kurt thinks he could so easily get lost in Blaine's face - he's beautiful. The most beautiful thing he's seen all day, and he's looking back at him as if he's happy to see him too, and in the midst of all this chaos, the steadiness of his presence feels soothing and necessary, smoothing over the frayed edges of his emotions.
Finally he manages to clear his throat, lower his eyes, and he can feel himself blush as he opens his mouth to find something to say.
“You were hanging out with a friend?”
Blaine nods. “My friend Nick lives just down the road, we were hanging out with a few of the Warblers.”
“How convenient for me,” Kurt says in a tone he hopes is flirty, blinks up at Blaine through his lashes.
Blaine laughs, shakes his head, looks a little flustered. “For me too,” he says in a hoarse voice, reaches across the space between them to take Kurt's hand in his. “I'm really glad it worked out this way.”
Kurt squeezes his fingers, and it's been one hell of a day and he's exhausted and it's late. But looking at Blaine, he feels almost too happy to breathe. “I''m really glad too.”
His hand feels too cold once Blaine pulls back to start driving, and he leans back in his seat, stares out into the darkness of small-town Ohio.
“Are you okay?” Blaine asks.
He sighs out, turns his head against the backrest so he can watch Blaine's lovely face in the soft light from the passing streetlamps. “I'm fine. Just - tired.”
“I'm sorry,” Blaine says. “I know it must have been a long few days for you.”
“It's all going to be all right,” Kurt says, repeating the mantra he's been holding onto for the past hours. “These things happen.”
“If there's anything I can do,” Blaine says, lifts his shoulders, smiles over at him briefly. “You'll tell me, right?”
Kurt raises an amused eyebrow at him. “You are currently driving me home.”
“That's really not a problem, I was just leaving anyway -”
“Well, it still qualifies as helping!”
“Even if I'm doing it out of selfish reasons?”
Kurt laughs. “Yes, even then. Maybe even more so, because it's flattering.”
Blaine rewards him with an embarrassed little laugh of his own and Kurt has to make himself stop watching him for the rest of the drive because he doesn't want to be creepy. But Blaine is just so very nice to look at.
The distance that would have taken Kurt more than half an hour to walk takes barely any time at all by car, and all too soon they're pulling up in front of Kurt's house, all the lights off except for the porch light and the single lamp in the hall, the soft light spilling out onto the driveway as Blaine cuts the engine.
“I'll walk you in,” Blaine says.
Kurt rolls his eyes at him but can't help the way his heart beats faster. “You're ridiculous.”
“Or maybe I'm just not ready to say goodnight to you yet.”
He doesn't know how to answer that, is afraid his voice won't work properly - Blaine makes him feel like he barely knows up from down. It's distracting. In the very best way possible.
By the time he's climbed out of his seat and is closing the car door behind himself, Blaine is already by his side, slides a warm hand down Kurt's arm in a way that makes him shiver all over, and takes his hand.
Kurt links their fingers without questioning it, his skin tingling where their palms press together as if charged with an electric current. He feels hungry for contact, drawn to Blaine as by gravity, and he cannot find a single reason in his heart or his head to resist this pull. He feels better with Blaine's hand in his, Blaine's warm body so close to his own as they walk their way up to the front door.
“Thanks for taking me home,” Kurt whispers as they turn to face each other just outside the light of the porch lamp.
“It was my pleasure,” Blaine assures him, and instead of letting go takes his other hand as well.
“I'll see you tomorrow?” Kurt asks. It comes out breathier than he's intended. He feels sixteen. Except for the fact that he never had this when was a teenager.
“I can't wait,” Blaine says, takes a careful half-step closer. “I'm looking forward to it.”
“Me too,” Kurt manages, mesmerized by the way Blaine's eyes look so sparkling even in the dim light surrounding them.
“Kurt.” Blaine laces their fingers tighter together, sways toward him the tiniest bit. “Can I kiss you?”
Kurt lets out a shuddering breath, feels like his chest isn't big enough to contain all the happiness and affection he's feeling. “You never have to ask me that,” he promises.
“Just making sure,” Blaine says, and Kurt leans in, cuts him off with a firm press of their lips against each other.
The kiss is slow and soft and nothing like the heated making out of the night before. Blaine lifts one hand to his face, cups Kurt's cheek and tilts his own head for a better angle, sighs softly into the kiss and Kurt can feel himself melt against him as Blaine's other arm wraps securely around his back.
He's kissed other boys before but he's never been kissed like this; there's a tenderness in Blaine's touch that makes his heart shiver and expand in his chest.
It's like Blaine knows what he needs, like he can just tell. All day, Kurt has had to hold on so tight, be in charge of everything. And now Blaine takes him in his arms and holds him up and makes him feel so warm and safe he feels like crying. He feels like if he wanted to let go, he could. Blaine is so gentle with him, touching him like it matters, and Kurt clings to him with weak arms and for the first time all day doesn't worry about a thing, knowing that right in this moment, Blaine will catch him if he falls.
When they finally break apart he feels dizzy, keeps his eyes closed for a second, revels in the feeling of Blaine's closeness, Blaine's breath against his cheek, Blaine's taste in his mouth. He opens his eyes to see Blaine's lips still wet from their kiss, Blaine's impossibly long, dark lashes fluttering open a second after Kurt opens his eyes.
He knows it's a short reprieve from the chaos that is his life, but that just makes him all the more grateful for it, all the more grateful for Blaine.
“Thank you,” Blaine breathes, and Kurt smiles, closes his eyes again, tilts their foreheads together.
On an impulse, he tightens his arms around Blaine, buries his face against the lovely curve of his neck and breathes in deeply. Blaine hugs him back just as tightly, laughs softly into his shoulder.
“I should be the one thanking you,” Kurt tells him.
Blaine pulls back, looks into his eyes, and shakes his head a little with a soft grin tugging at the corners of his mouth.
“Text me? About tomorrow?”
“Of course,” Kurt says.
With another brief, gentle kiss to his lips Blaine finally takes a step back, smiles at him one more time, and walks away to his car.
Kurt lets himself into the dark and quiet house and thinks that maybe he'll sleep well tonight after all.