Fic: In Control
Title: In Control
Author: blueberrykissa
Rating: PG
Character(s)/Pairing(s): Blaine/Kurt
Genre: angst
Warnings: eating disorder, major angst
Spoilers: Season 2, to be safe
Disclaimer: I wish I owned Glee. Unfortunately I do not, nor do I profit from this fic.
Author Notes: For this prompt. This got way angstier than I thought it might n__n
Summary: "...He only really cut down his caloric intake by 500 calories, the recommended cut to lose weight. He’d be fine."
Word Count: 2,755
Kurt has never had a good relationship with food.
He’d been obsessed with fashion for as long as he’d known. When he was younger, Kurt would stare at the glossy pages of his mother’s fashion magazines, carefully memorizing every look, every trend, the name of every designer. He saw the models, the live Barbie dolls, there to do nothing but be perfect. And he wanted to be perfect, just like them. As he got older, he delved deep into the world of glamour, wearing nothing but designer labels and fabulous clothes, feeling one step closer to perfect.
Of course, designer clothes were not aimed towards the overweight. So Kurt kept track, made sure he ate healthy and exercised. He skipped snacking during the day, chewing gum or drinking water instead. He ate more than his daily serving of fruits and vegetables. He only ate meat at dinner, if at all. As far as he was concerned, Kurt had complete control of his diet, and was healthy.
It didn’t really get bad until cheerios.
Cheerios was one of the best things Kurt had going for him. Although being a male cheerio didn’t make him “insta-cool” like it did Mercedes, he did go up the social ladder a bit. The constant exercise was good for him too, he thought, and helped him build muscle faster than years of dance were able to. The only problem was the constant emphasis on weight watching.
“You could stand to lose a few too, kiddo. You’ve got hips like a pear.”
‘Hips like a pear,’ Kurt would repeat in his head as he reached for more celery. ‘Hips like a pear,’ He would think as his stomach grumbled furiously. It really wasn’t that bad. He’d just cut meat from his diet entirely, opting for nuts for protein instead. Hey, if vegetarians could do it, he could too, right? Carbs were out of the question, of course, and fats (Oh God, fats). He only really cut down his caloric intake by 500 calories, the recommended cut to lose weight. He’d be fine.
And he was fine. Kurt was overjoyed to watch the pounds melt off as the year progressed. Summer practices and cheer camp kept him in (in his opinion) the best shape of his life. By the time the school year rolled around again, he had burnt off most of his excess body fat and felt good. Well - most of the time. Sometimes, especially when he was lying in bed at night, trying to sleep, he’d feel that low grumble of hunger pain in the pit of his stomach, urging him to get up and eat something, something that wasn’t green and negative in calories. But Kurt would ignore the urge, repeating ‘Hips like a pear,’ like a mantra in his head, and curl in on himself. Besides, who cares about a bit of late-night hunger: he was fitting into clothes two sizes smaller than he was last year! If he kept his diet this up, his body fat would be ancient history.
So he kept at it. Kept a careful watch on what he ate, keeping his intake of food consistent. It was easy.
---
When Burt was hospitalized, everything became so much harder.
Suddenly, Kurt found himself staying home alone, worried sick. When he wasn’t at the hospital, sitting by Burt’s side and just hoping, he was in his house, alone. At the hospital, he kept to himself, only leaving if he had to use the restroom. The hospital food was atrocious, and he refused to eat any of it. When home alone, he mostly skipped dinner, too worried and depressed to find the will to eat much of anything. That only lasted a few days before Carole found out, and barged through the door one night with a casserole and some romcoms. They spent the night eating and laughing at the protagonists’ onscreen blunders. Carole always held Kurt when the movie turned depressing.
Kurt didn’t have the heart to refuse her.
---
With Burt’s recovery, Kurt began to eat again. He would spend dinner time fawning over his dad, making sure he was eating right. Kurt had to lead by example, of course, and always ate the same as his father. Sometimes Carole would be there, helping Kurt take care of his dad, and Finn would sit and eat and laugh with them and Kurt felt okay with this. More and more he found them becoming a family. He was happy again, and it was good (even finding out his gaydar was broken by Sam couldn’t bring him down).
---
Kurt stopped eating after the Karofsky incident.
What little appetite Kurt had had been completely sapped from him. Kurt didn’t think he could eat, really, not after what happened. He had to keep up appearances, eating in the cafeteria with Mercedes while she rambled on about tots. Kurt just smiled and nodded, looking everywhere but Karofsky’s table. Sometimes he would look up and Karofsky would be staring at him, a weird glint in his eye, and all Kurt could think was run run run as bile rose in his throat. He was terrified at school.
At home was no better. It was like Karofsky was following him everywhere, to every safe space he had. He was in his head, nagging at him in the back of his mind at all times. His dad and Carole had been very wrapped up in their relationship lately, so Kurt was left to his own devices at home a lot. When he was home alone, he’s eat some celery or something (‘Hips like a pear,’) before he sulked in his room. Every time he went up for dinner when his dad and Carole were there, he’d force a few bites, make up some lie about a large lunch and return to his room to text Blaine.
Blaine.
Blaine was the one keeping him going at this point, if he were to be honest with himself. Every night, Blaine was there (over the phone, texting, skyping) as his shoulder to cry on. He listened, and Kurt couldn’t be more thankful; which is why he ignored the furious butterflies in his stomach every time Blaine laughed (something very easy to do when one was skilled at ignoring hunger pains).
---
Rachel was the first to notice.
She had approached his locker the day the glee boys had their scuffle in the locker room with Karofsky. Kurt was so tired lately that he didn’t even notice her until he shut his locker.
He refused to admit that he jumped.
He tightened his arm around the array of binders he was holding and raised a perfectly sculpted brow. Rachel looked at him, determined.
“Here,” she said, thrusting a bright pink thermos at him. He took it from her gently, noticing bemusedly that it was plastered with gold star stickers. After he took it, Rachel beamed at him, and Kurt suddenly felt inexplicably ashamed.
“Thanks,” He said, clutching the thermos to him. She smiled again before walking off towards her next class. Kurt let out the breath he didn’t know he was holding, and headed off in the other direction, the thermos’ heat seeping through his cold (always, always cold) fingers. He knows he’s not going to touch whatever’s in there.
He realizes as he sits down in physics that he forgot to insult Rachel’s hideous cardigan.
---
It’s harder to hide his eating habits at Dalton. At Dalton, he isn’t control of the menu. Suddenly, Kurt’s thrust into this place where he has to eat in front of people all the time. Dalton Academy, whose dining hall serves steak at least once a week. Dalton, whose coffee is full of empty calories but is just so, so delicious. Dalton, where he’s always being asked to eat lunch with someone (usually Blaine) or dinner or breakfast.
So Kurt learns to be inconspicuous. He’ll stay in his room for breakfast (he never was a big fan anyways), maybe eat lunch, if he really feels up to it (usually not), and something small and as low-calorie as possible for dinner (he just feigns a stomach ache on steak nights). Meanwhile, he focuses all his energy on school, joining the Warblers only when he’s asked to. He keeps up this façade of “Really, I’m okay, don’t worry about me” for a while.
But of course Blaine has to go and ruin it.
It starts small, with Blaine giving him these little looks every time he doesn’t finish his dinner. Kurt brushes it off, choosing instead to laugh with Wes or ask David for homework help or do anything but look at Blaine when he gets like that. He knows he’s being very suspicious, but he just doesn’t have the energy to deal with it at all.
Then Blaine starts to do subtle things to get Kurt to eat more. He’ll put his own food on Kurt’s plate, staring him down until he eats it. He’ll say “Oh, this is just so good! Kurt, try some,” and pile up the food. Kurt knows from Blaine's tight smile that he isn’t really allowed to refuse.
It gets to the point where Blaine will go to his dorm room and take him to lunch, sitting and making sure he at least eats something.
It’s humiliating.
---
Everything explodes on a Saturday.
It’s a busy Saturday afternoon at Dalton, and the school is buzzing with students trying to get their weekend homework done or practicing for the upcoming game or just goofing off. Kurt’s in his dorm, laying in bed and staring at the page in his book he stopped on ten minutes ago when he hears a knock on his door. He rolls his eyes.
“I’m not hungry, Blaine,” he calls out, never looking away from his book. He hears a muffled sigh from the other side,
“You know I’m coming in anyway, right?” Blaine’s voice says jokingly. Kurt doesn’t respond.
The door opens and Blaine toes his way into the room. Kurt looks up, completely not amused. And then Blaine’s there, in front of his bed, hands in his pockets, and Kurt muses that he always liked when Blaine rocked jeans and a t-shirt. Blaine is just staring at him (something that Kurt’s still not comfortable with).
Kurt puts down his book. “I’m not hungry,” he repeats. Blaine shakes his head.
“Yes you are.”
Kurt’s stomach rumbles mutinously as if to emphasize Blaine’s point. Kurt rolls his eyes again and sits up. He hasn’t really gotten out of bed all day, choosing instead to lie around in heather grey sweat pants and a white v-neck (Dalton, unfortunately, did not have room for his extensive collection of lounge wear in their dorms, so he had to improvise). He shirt is baggy now, and he has to continuously retie the strings holding his pants up.
“I had a big breakfast, okay? I went to that little bakery down the street, you know the one…” He refuses to look Blaine in the eye.
“Kurt, don’t lie to me.” Kurt looks up quickly; Blaine’s eyes are intense, his jaw set. His hands are shoved into his front pocket, like he doesn’t know what to do with them. Kurt’s a little shocked.
“I-I’m not lying.” Kurt looks away again.
Blaine snaps.
“God damn it Kurt!” Kurt winces at the volume of Blaine’s voice, but keeps his eyes trained on his perfectly pedicured toes. “What is happening to you?! Why do you keep lying to me?! Kurt, this isn’t healthy! Even Wes and David have noticed - we’re worried about you. You-You’re all fine and dandy and then it’s time to eat and you disappear!” Kurt can feel his eyes watering, bile rising in his esophagus as his body screams at him in time with Blaine.
“Kurt, you’re wasting away.”
That’s what does it. The tears are burning hot as they slide down his cheeks, and he doesn’t wipe them away. Blaine’s right, of course, Blaine’s always right. Kurt crosses his arms over his chest and looks up at Blaine, defiantly. Blaine is seething, his chest heaving up and down.
“Are you done?” Kurt asks, beginning to shake with his tears.
Blaine deflates. He sits down next to Kurt, and Kurt tries to ignore the way the bed sags in a way that it doesn’t for him. Blaine has his hands in his lap, and he’s looking at them like they have all the answers to this, whatever this is.
“I just…” Blaine starts and oh God, Kurt just can’t look at him when he’s using that voice, he just can’t. He turns his head. Blaine continues, “I just worry, alright? Have you seen yourself lately?” Kurt closes his eyes. The tears won’t stop.
“I’m fine.” He says. Blaine turns his body towards him, exasperated.
“No, you’re not! Kurt, look at this.” Blaine wrenches Kurt’s arm away from his chest. Kurt tenses. Blaine wraps his forefinger and thumb around Kurt’s wrist. “Kurt, look.”
Kurt turns his head slowly, looking at the wrist Blaine has held up in front of him. Blaine’s fingers are overlapping each other.
“…You have long fingers,” Kurt says after a moment, pulling his arm back to his chest gently. Blaine stands up, now infuriated.
“No, just- stop it!” Blaine’s looming over him, and Kurt begins to hyperventilate, his body trembling. Blaine notices, but doesn’t stop. “Stop making excuses! Stop doing this to yourself! Shit, if I have to, I’ll go to the administration-”
“No!” Kurt has flung him hands out, grabbing Blaine’s legs. He holds on tight, sobbing. “Please. If you tell them they’ll tell my dad and oh God my dad can never know, he’ll-” Kurt can’t speak through his hyperventilation. Blaine stops and sits himself on the ground. Kurt looks at him, a little wildly.
“Kurt, what’s going on?” He puts his hands on Kurt’s knees. Kurt breaks.
“I-I…” He sucks in a deep breath, the words tumbling from his lips, and he's not in control, hasn't been for a long time, “I can’t eat. Every time I try I get this sick feeling in my stomach and I just want to go to my room and throw up. I didn’t like eating before and then… and then-” Kurt breaks off when the tears reach his chest. Blaine is rubbing small circles into his skin, comfortingly. He waits for Kurt to control his breathing again patiently. Kurt begins when he can, his voice shaky. “I couldn’t eat at school because Karofsky was there, just always there in the cafeteria, winking at me and giving me these looks at I couldn’t…” Kurt’s fairly certain Blaine’s grinding his teeth. “And then at home I’d always be thinking about him, I could never get away from him. Sometimes I’d have nightmares, and I guess…” He lets out an unsteady laugh. “I guess I just stopped. When I was hungry, I didn’t have to feel that knot in my stomach every time I saw him, because all I could feel was hungry anyways. And now… well, habits are hard to break, right?”
Blaine is staring at him, all earlier anger gone. Instead he looks so sad; Kurt almost can’t stand to look at him. “Oh, Kurt,” Blaine mutters, before he grabs Kurt from around the waist and pulls him down into his lap. Kurt hiccups in indignation but allows himself to be cradled against Blaine’s chest. Blaine has his arms around Kurt, one hand on his back and the other the back of his head.
They don’t know what to do with themselves after that. Kurt’s crying, still, all the tears he’s held in for the past few weeks finally being allowed past the floodgate. Blaine’s rocking, rubbing Kurt’s back and murmuring to him.
“Karofsky’s not here, Kurt. He can’t hurt you here. We won’t let him. I won’t let him…” He keeps going, telling Kurt furiously about how safe he is. Kurt just cries.
They end up falling asleep on the floor, drained of energy. Blaine’s wrapped around him like a cocoon, Kurt tucked against his chest, their legs entangled. Kurt has created a large wet spot on Blaine’s shirt, but Blaine doesn’t care.
Kurt doesn’t know what’s going to happen next. In all honesty, as long as Blaine’s beside him like this, he doesn’t really care. All he knows is that Karofsky isn’t there, and the pure rush of relief that flows through him is amazing.
Kurt falls asleep to the sound of Blaine’s heartbeat.
Author: blueberrykissa
Rating: PG
Character(s)/Pairing(s): Blaine/Kurt
Genre: angst
Warnings: eating disorder, major angst
Spoilers: Season 2, to be safe
Disclaimer: I wish I owned Glee. Unfortunately I do not, nor do I profit from this fic.
Author Notes: For this prompt. This got way angstier than I thought it might n__n
Summary: "...He only really cut down his caloric intake by 500 calories, the recommended cut to lose weight. He’d be fine."
Word Count: 2,755
Kurt has never had a good relationship with food.
He’d been obsessed with fashion for as long as he’d known. When he was younger, Kurt would stare at the glossy pages of his mother’s fashion magazines, carefully memorizing every look, every trend, the name of every designer. He saw the models, the live Barbie dolls, there to do nothing but be perfect. And he wanted to be perfect, just like them. As he got older, he delved deep into the world of glamour, wearing nothing but designer labels and fabulous clothes, feeling one step closer to perfect.
Of course, designer clothes were not aimed towards the overweight. So Kurt kept track, made sure he ate healthy and exercised. He skipped snacking during the day, chewing gum or drinking water instead. He ate more than his daily serving of fruits and vegetables. He only ate meat at dinner, if at all. As far as he was concerned, Kurt had complete control of his diet, and was healthy.
It didn’t really get bad until cheerios.
Cheerios was one of the best things Kurt had going for him. Although being a male cheerio didn’t make him “insta-cool” like it did Mercedes, he did go up the social ladder a bit. The constant exercise was good for him too, he thought, and helped him build muscle faster than years of dance were able to. The only problem was the constant emphasis on weight watching.
“You could stand to lose a few too, kiddo. You’ve got hips like a pear.”
‘Hips like a pear,’ Kurt would repeat in his head as he reached for more celery. ‘Hips like a pear,’ He would think as his stomach grumbled furiously. It really wasn’t that bad. He’d just cut meat from his diet entirely, opting for nuts for protein instead. Hey, if vegetarians could do it, he could too, right? Carbs were out of the question, of course, and fats (Oh God, fats). He only really cut down his caloric intake by 500 calories, the recommended cut to lose weight. He’d be fine.
And he was fine. Kurt was overjoyed to watch the pounds melt off as the year progressed. Summer practices and cheer camp kept him in (in his opinion) the best shape of his life. By the time the school year rolled around again, he had burnt off most of his excess body fat and felt good. Well - most of the time. Sometimes, especially when he was lying in bed at night, trying to sleep, he’d feel that low grumble of hunger pain in the pit of his stomach, urging him to get up and eat something, something that wasn’t green and negative in calories. But Kurt would ignore the urge, repeating ‘Hips like a pear,’ like a mantra in his head, and curl in on himself. Besides, who cares about a bit of late-night hunger: he was fitting into clothes two sizes smaller than he was last year! If he kept his diet this up, his body fat would be ancient history.
So he kept at it. Kept a careful watch on what he ate, keeping his intake of food consistent. It was easy.
---
When Burt was hospitalized, everything became so much harder.
Suddenly, Kurt found himself staying home alone, worried sick. When he wasn’t at the hospital, sitting by Burt’s side and just hoping, he was in his house, alone. At the hospital, he kept to himself, only leaving if he had to use the restroom. The hospital food was atrocious, and he refused to eat any of it. When home alone, he mostly skipped dinner, too worried and depressed to find the will to eat much of anything. That only lasted a few days before Carole found out, and barged through the door one night with a casserole and some romcoms. They spent the night eating and laughing at the protagonists’ onscreen blunders. Carole always held Kurt when the movie turned depressing.
Kurt didn’t have the heart to refuse her.
---
With Burt’s recovery, Kurt began to eat again. He would spend dinner time fawning over his dad, making sure he was eating right. Kurt had to lead by example, of course, and always ate the same as his father. Sometimes Carole would be there, helping Kurt take care of his dad, and Finn would sit and eat and laugh with them and Kurt felt okay with this. More and more he found them becoming a family. He was happy again, and it was good (even finding out his gaydar was broken by Sam couldn’t bring him down).
---
Kurt stopped eating after the Karofsky incident.
What little appetite Kurt had had been completely sapped from him. Kurt didn’t think he could eat, really, not after what happened. He had to keep up appearances, eating in the cafeteria with Mercedes while she rambled on about tots. Kurt just smiled and nodded, looking everywhere but Karofsky’s table. Sometimes he would look up and Karofsky would be staring at him, a weird glint in his eye, and all Kurt could think was run run run as bile rose in his throat. He was terrified at school.
At home was no better. It was like Karofsky was following him everywhere, to every safe space he had. He was in his head, nagging at him in the back of his mind at all times. His dad and Carole had been very wrapped up in their relationship lately, so Kurt was left to his own devices at home a lot. When he was home alone, he’s eat some celery or something (‘Hips like a pear,’) before he sulked in his room. Every time he went up for dinner when his dad and Carole were there, he’d force a few bites, make up some lie about a large lunch and return to his room to text Blaine.
Blaine.
Blaine was the one keeping him going at this point, if he were to be honest with himself. Every night, Blaine was there (over the phone, texting, skyping) as his shoulder to cry on. He listened, and Kurt couldn’t be more thankful; which is why he ignored the furious butterflies in his stomach every time Blaine laughed (something very easy to do when one was skilled at ignoring hunger pains).
---
Rachel was the first to notice.
She had approached his locker the day the glee boys had their scuffle in the locker room with Karofsky. Kurt was so tired lately that he didn’t even notice her until he shut his locker.
He refused to admit that he jumped.
He tightened his arm around the array of binders he was holding and raised a perfectly sculpted brow. Rachel looked at him, determined.
“Here,” she said, thrusting a bright pink thermos at him. He took it from her gently, noticing bemusedly that it was plastered with gold star stickers. After he took it, Rachel beamed at him, and Kurt suddenly felt inexplicably ashamed.
“Thanks,” He said, clutching the thermos to him. She smiled again before walking off towards her next class. Kurt let out the breath he didn’t know he was holding, and headed off in the other direction, the thermos’ heat seeping through his cold (always, always cold) fingers. He knows he’s not going to touch whatever’s in there.
He realizes as he sits down in physics that he forgot to insult Rachel’s hideous cardigan.
---
It’s harder to hide his eating habits at Dalton. At Dalton, he isn’t control of the menu. Suddenly, Kurt’s thrust into this place where he has to eat in front of people all the time. Dalton Academy, whose dining hall serves steak at least once a week. Dalton, whose coffee is full of empty calories but is just so, so delicious. Dalton, where he’s always being asked to eat lunch with someone (usually Blaine) or dinner or breakfast.
So Kurt learns to be inconspicuous. He’ll stay in his room for breakfast (he never was a big fan anyways), maybe eat lunch, if he really feels up to it (usually not), and something small and as low-calorie as possible for dinner (he just feigns a stomach ache on steak nights). Meanwhile, he focuses all his energy on school, joining the Warblers only when he’s asked to. He keeps up this façade of “Really, I’m okay, don’t worry about me” for a while.
But of course Blaine has to go and ruin it.
It starts small, with Blaine giving him these little looks every time he doesn’t finish his dinner. Kurt brushes it off, choosing instead to laugh with Wes or ask David for homework help or do anything but look at Blaine when he gets like that. He knows he’s being very suspicious, but he just doesn’t have the energy to deal with it at all.
Then Blaine starts to do subtle things to get Kurt to eat more. He’ll put his own food on Kurt’s plate, staring him down until he eats it. He’ll say “Oh, this is just so good! Kurt, try some,” and pile up the food. Kurt knows from Blaine's tight smile that he isn’t really allowed to refuse.
It gets to the point where Blaine will go to his dorm room and take him to lunch, sitting and making sure he at least eats something.
It’s humiliating.
---
Everything explodes on a Saturday.
It’s a busy Saturday afternoon at Dalton, and the school is buzzing with students trying to get their weekend homework done or practicing for the upcoming game or just goofing off. Kurt’s in his dorm, laying in bed and staring at the page in his book he stopped on ten minutes ago when he hears a knock on his door. He rolls his eyes.
“I’m not hungry, Blaine,” he calls out, never looking away from his book. He hears a muffled sigh from the other side,
“You know I’m coming in anyway, right?” Blaine’s voice says jokingly. Kurt doesn’t respond.
The door opens and Blaine toes his way into the room. Kurt looks up, completely not amused. And then Blaine’s there, in front of his bed, hands in his pockets, and Kurt muses that he always liked when Blaine rocked jeans and a t-shirt. Blaine is just staring at him (something that Kurt’s still not comfortable with).
Kurt puts down his book. “I’m not hungry,” he repeats. Blaine shakes his head.
“Yes you are.”
Kurt’s stomach rumbles mutinously as if to emphasize Blaine’s point. Kurt rolls his eyes again and sits up. He hasn’t really gotten out of bed all day, choosing instead to lie around in heather grey sweat pants and a white v-neck (Dalton, unfortunately, did not have room for his extensive collection of lounge wear in their dorms, so he had to improvise). He shirt is baggy now, and he has to continuously retie the strings holding his pants up.
“I had a big breakfast, okay? I went to that little bakery down the street, you know the one…” He refuses to look Blaine in the eye.
“Kurt, don’t lie to me.” Kurt looks up quickly; Blaine’s eyes are intense, his jaw set. His hands are shoved into his front pocket, like he doesn’t know what to do with them. Kurt’s a little shocked.
“I-I’m not lying.” Kurt looks away again.
Blaine snaps.
“God damn it Kurt!” Kurt winces at the volume of Blaine’s voice, but keeps his eyes trained on his perfectly pedicured toes. “What is happening to you?! Why do you keep lying to me?! Kurt, this isn’t healthy! Even Wes and David have noticed - we’re worried about you. You-You’re all fine and dandy and then it’s time to eat and you disappear!” Kurt can feel his eyes watering, bile rising in his esophagus as his body screams at him in time with Blaine.
“Kurt, you’re wasting away.”
That’s what does it. The tears are burning hot as they slide down his cheeks, and he doesn’t wipe them away. Blaine’s right, of course, Blaine’s always right. Kurt crosses his arms over his chest and looks up at Blaine, defiantly. Blaine is seething, his chest heaving up and down.
“Are you done?” Kurt asks, beginning to shake with his tears.
Blaine deflates. He sits down next to Kurt, and Kurt tries to ignore the way the bed sags in a way that it doesn’t for him. Blaine has his hands in his lap, and he’s looking at them like they have all the answers to this, whatever this is.
“I just…” Blaine starts and oh God, Kurt just can’t look at him when he’s using that voice, he just can’t. He turns his head. Blaine continues, “I just worry, alright? Have you seen yourself lately?” Kurt closes his eyes. The tears won’t stop.
“I’m fine.” He says. Blaine turns his body towards him, exasperated.
“No, you’re not! Kurt, look at this.” Blaine wrenches Kurt’s arm away from his chest. Kurt tenses. Blaine wraps his forefinger and thumb around Kurt’s wrist. “Kurt, look.”
Kurt turns his head slowly, looking at the wrist Blaine has held up in front of him. Blaine’s fingers are overlapping each other.
“…You have long fingers,” Kurt says after a moment, pulling his arm back to his chest gently. Blaine stands up, now infuriated.
“No, just- stop it!” Blaine’s looming over him, and Kurt begins to hyperventilate, his body trembling. Blaine notices, but doesn’t stop. “Stop making excuses! Stop doing this to yourself! Shit, if I have to, I’ll go to the administration-”
“No!” Kurt has flung him hands out, grabbing Blaine’s legs. He holds on tight, sobbing. “Please. If you tell them they’ll tell my dad and oh God my dad can never know, he’ll-” Kurt can’t speak through his hyperventilation. Blaine stops and sits himself on the ground. Kurt looks at him, a little wildly.
“Kurt, what’s going on?” He puts his hands on Kurt’s knees. Kurt breaks.
“I-I…” He sucks in a deep breath, the words tumbling from his lips, and he's not in control, hasn't been for a long time, “I can’t eat. Every time I try I get this sick feeling in my stomach and I just want to go to my room and throw up. I didn’t like eating before and then… and then-” Kurt breaks off when the tears reach his chest. Blaine is rubbing small circles into his skin, comfortingly. He waits for Kurt to control his breathing again patiently. Kurt begins when he can, his voice shaky. “I couldn’t eat at school because Karofsky was there, just always there in the cafeteria, winking at me and giving me these looks at I couldn’t…” Kurt’s fairly certain Blaine’s grinding his teeth. “And then at home I’d always be thinking about him, I could never get away from him. Sometimes I’d have nightmares, and I guess…” He lets out an unsteady laugh. “I guess I just stopped. When I was hungry, I didn’t have to feel that knot in my stomach every time I saw him, because all I could feel was hungry anyways. And now… well, habits are hard to break, right?”
Blaine is staring at him, all earlier anger gone. Instead he looks so sad; Kurt almost can’t stand to look at him. “Oh, Kurt,” Blaine mutters, before he grabs Kurt from around the waist and pulls him down into his lap. Kurt hiccups in indignation but allows himself to be cradled against Blaine’s chest. Blaine has his arms around Kurt, one hand on his back and the other the back of his head.
They don’t know what to do with themselves after that. Kurt’s crying, still, all the tears he’s held in for the past few weeks finally being allowed past the floodgate. Blaine’s rocking, rubbing Kurt’s back and murmuring to him.
“Karofsky’s not here, Kurt. He can’t hurt you here. We won’t let him. I won’t let him…” He keeps going, telling Kurt furiously about how safe he is. Kurt just cries.
They end up falling asleep on the floor, drained of energy. Blaine’s wrapped around him like a cocoon, Kurt tucked against his chest, their legs entangled. Kurt has created a large wet spot on Blaine’s shirt, but Blaine doesn’t care.
Kurt doesn’t know what’s going to happen next. In all honesty, as long as Blaine’s beside him like this, he doesn’t really care. All he knows is that Karofsky isn’t there, and the pure rush of relief that flows through him is amazing.
Kurt falls asleep to the sound of Blaine’s heartbeat.