The Art of Breaking
Title: The Art of Breaking
Rating : PG-13(?)
Pairing : canon Klaine
Word count : 1,564
Spoilers : 4.04, The Breakup
Summary: Reaction fic to the episode
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Blaine could feel panic clawing up his throat and closing his lungs like he was swiftly sinking in quicksand. He stared down at the text message on his phone’s screen where it sat covering the background image that was a photo of Kurt and him, marring it.
From Kurt:
Please don’t try to contact me again.
Kurt had every right, every right, to be angry, of this there was no doubt. Blaine still couldn’t believe it himself. When he thought back over the events of the past month, it was as if he were watching someone else’s memories of someone else’s life. He was furious with himself, but, even more, he was completely shocked.
This wasn’t him. He wasn’t a cheater. Kurt was the only one he ever wanted to know intimately and have know him intimately -the only one. It really felt like someone else had done it, someone else had sought the companionship of Eli C while feeling ignored and lonely. It was a nightmare and he just wanted to wake up. Why couldn’t he just wake up?
He wanted to open his eyes to find Kurt laying next to him smiling the crooked, coy smile he sometimes wore. He wanted to wake to the sunshine on his face and the knowledge that he still had this -the best thing that had ever happened to him, the only thing that mattered.
Instead, he was stuck in this endless loop of the look on Kurt’s face that night when Blaine had said those fateful words, "I was with someone." The shocked dismay, the betrayal, the heartbreak; they were all so vivid on Kurt’s beautiful features and his bright, watery eyes. It tore at Blaine like nothing else. He had been so lost and so alone, he had just wanted a way out of that feeling. He needed someone to look at him, to want him, to hold him. Everything was too much and not enough, but instead of relief he had only been given more pain. A heavy sense of hopelessness was gripping his heart, threatening to crush his soul.
Blaine stared down at his phone. The message was clear; they were no more. After coming back home from New York with a broken heart and the nervous fear of not knowing where he and Kurt stood, it should have felt like much-needed closure. Instead, it felt like the earth had dropped from beneath his feet. He hated himself for the pain he had caused Kurt, hated himself for what he had done, hated that he couldn’t take it back and wished that he, too, could break up with himself.
It wasn’t fair… or, maybe it was… that Kurt got to end things with him and he was stuck living with himself after hurting both of them so badly. Justice was a cruel and heartless bitch, so it seemed. He deserved this raw unyielding pain that tore at his insides and stung in his eyes, but he still couldn’t help his selfish thoughts… What now? You were my everything, are you really just going to leave me here? What am I to do when nowhere is home without you? How can you leave me now when I’m most broken?
He fell down to his knees on his bedroom floor, letting his cell fall from his hand to the carpet with a dull thud. He curled into a fetal position on his side and pulled his knees tight to his chest to keep the threatening sobs from escaping his dry throat. He would fix this -he had to. He just… he just didn’t know how just yet.
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Kurt couldn’t sleep.
Every time he would get even remotely close, his mind would traitorously drift unbidden into disturbing territory. Pornographic snippets of skin on skin, hands tracing lines, lips dragging over swells and valleys, would flood his mind. His senses would be overtaken by the sights, smells and sounds of sex -sex between Blaine and some faceless stranger. Horrified, Kurt’s eyes would fly open, his breath caught in his throat and his heart threatening to beat out of his chest.
He had received red and yellow roses at his workplace every other day for a week with messages of “I’m sorry” and “I love you” and “You’re everything to me”. His cell had pinged relentlessly with text messages and heartfelt apologies left in his voicemail; explanations and pleas. He had never responded to any of them, but the latest message had been the last straw.
From Blaine:
I thought you would never say goodbye to me.
Kurt had screamed “I thought you would never hurt me like that!” at the phone before hurling it across his apartment. It slammed against the wall and he knew he would need to buy a new one in the morning. Modern day technology had nothing on the solidity of brick walls.
He was exhausted as he tossed and turned in his bed. His entire body ached with it. He hadn’t slept in over a week, not since Blaine had dropped that bombshell on him. It just wasn’t fair. He was 100% Blaine’s, heart and soul and… body. Yet, there was someone out there walking around with the smug satisfaction of having a piece of Blaine.
It made him sick thinking that someone else had seen Blaine -HIS BLANE- laid out bare for them, had touched him intimately, had made him come. He felt devastated by the thought, devastated and also filled with a murderous rage. It was as if the only way to fix this was to find that person and remove their existence from the planet in the most gory and grotesque manner possible.
It wasn’t as though Blaine was ruined by this, as if his body had been tarnished and made impure by someone else’s touch. He was a person, not a thing. But Kurt wasn’t sure he would be able to see past the dark fingerprints the unknown stranger had left on their relationship. How dare they? How dare they invade Kurt and Blaine’s precious relationship and leave their dirty handprints on everything Kurt held most dear? How dare they laugh and smile and even breathe after ruining Kurt and Blaine?
Kurt’s anger felt too big for his body like he might explode forth from his poised cocoon as a massive, green monster intent on smashing everything in sight until he was spent.
How dare Blaine put this on him? How dare he use the excuse that he felt alone and Kurt wasn’t there for him? He was the one who had sent Kurt away! He was the one to tell Kurt to go ahead and start his life in New York even when Kurt had been content to wait the year. At least Blaine was home in familiar territory. How dare he complain the HE felt alone when Kurt was the one who had left everything he knew and everyone he loved to go blaze a trail to his and Blaine’s future for them.
Coming to New York, having some small successes (and some rather large ones) after spending his high school career constantly shot down, it was exhilarating. He was excited to finally, finally be in New York, to be starting the life he had spent his youth dreaming about. It was also lonely, though. He was always busy -the city never slept, but there was this constant pain in his chest because he missed Blaine.
So, he hadn’t always had the time to accept Blaine’s calls or reply immediately to his texts, that didn’t mean he wasn’t on his mind. Every time Kurt discovered something new or succeeded in something, he would turn as if expecting Blaine to be beside him only to find he was alone. As wonderful and amazing as everything was, it still felt off without Blaine there. Kurt felt like he was still waiting, waiting, waiting for his life to really start. He knew it wouldn’t really begin until Blaine was there with him, because… because Blaine was his life.
But now… now… now nothing made sense. Everything was a mess and he was so angry. The anger, though, it was the only thing holding him together. He knew it was just there to cover how hurt and betrayed he felt. How devastatingly broken he felt. Why had Blaine so quickly thrown everything away? How could he just go to some random stranger for comfort? Wasn’t what they had more important than that? Wasn’t Kurt more important than that?
What was he to do now with this shell of a dreamlife? What was the point if Blaine was no longer going to be in it? He never wanted to say goodbye to him, but how could he possibly keeping saying hello? If now was the time for new beginnings, then now was the time to break old ties, too.
Kurt got out of bed and walked gingerly across the room on legs that felt too stiff. He picked up his phone where it had fallen to the floor and typed out a message despite the cracked screen. It felt like every letter was driving another knife into his body, but he wrote it anyway.
Please don’t try to contact me again.
It wasn’t a goodbye, -Kurt Hummel keeps his promises- but it might as well have been. He hit send.
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