Fic -- Drowning in Sunny Skies 9/9
Drowning in Sunny Skies
Rating: NC-17
Pairing: OMC/Kurt; Blaine/Kurt
Spoilers: up to 2.14 (BIOTA)
Word Count: ~25,500
Warnings: HIGHLIGHT TO READ - especially if you have triggers *non-con, language*
Summary: Kurt meets someone at the Lima Bean, thinking he’s found the perfect boyfriend. He is sadly mistaken. AU branching off from BIOTA.
A/N: A fill for THIS prompt at the angst meme.
One | Two | Three | Four | Five | Six | Seven | Eight | Nine
~
Blaine leaves with a procession of hugs and farewells from the Hummel family, walking out into the early evening with a light coat over his shoulders and a Dalton scarf around his neck. Kurt’s heart aches as he goes, and the remnants of their conversation are like lead weights inside of his chest.
It has been a week and four days since that night, and Blaine has been a constant. No matter the time or the difficulty of the situation, Blaine has been there for Kurt. The only person around more is his dad.
Blaine’s presence has been a double-edged blade, though; Kurt is so grateful, so happy, that he has such a wonderful friend, one who wants to spend so much time with him. But it is a constant reminder of what could - what couldn’t - have been.
Especially now that he knows that Blaine thinks of him like that. Now that he has had time to think about it.
As much as Kurt keeps the saying ‘the past is in the past’ interwoven in all of his introspection, he can’t seem to stop wondering how it could have been different. What it could have been like if Blaine had only stepped up and taken a chance on him.
There is a part of him, one that he will keep locked up deep inside, that holds a reserve of resentment for Blaine. It is small and he hates that it even exists, but it is there nonetheless and there is nothing he can do, nothing that he can think of to do, that will make it go away.
He doesn’t blame Blaine for what happened - how could he? - but the ‘what if’s’ and ‘could have been’s’ haunt him in ways that are deeper than his logical surface consciousness. They plague him, swarm his mind and make him want to scream.
They make him want to rally against any reason that Blaine had to not want him before he had met Ian. Make him wonder what is so wrong with him that Blaine couldn’t see beyond it.
Even though he knows these thoughts aren’t true, that what happened had nothing to do with any failing on his or Blaine’s part, they still exist. And Kurt knows that he will do everything in his power to keep Blaine from ever knowing that he thinks them - these are the things that whisper in the back of Kurt’s mind in the dark of night. And they will stay that way.
~
Kurt sits alone in his room, an open issue of Vogue on the bed beside him, two of his class textbooks piled on the other side of him, and his phone held in one hand. He feels like he has to do something, anything, but nothing feels right.
His mind won’t stop spinning with thoughts, the lines of them trailing around and around despite any sort of distraction he tries, and they are starting to take over everything.
No matter how many times he tells himself that he is justified in how he feels, in reacting so strongly, there is a deep shame that eats at him. It will flare when he is having a low day, when his emotion are in turmoil, and he will feel guilty for letting what Ian did to him affect him.
Sometimes when he just wants to sit alone and cry, or call Blaine and talk, he will force himself to get on with life, to ignore how horrible he feels.
It isn’t some inner strength that keeps him moving, leaves him silent; it is the overwhelming sense of shame that encompasses everything.
More often than not he finds his daily activities tainted by sadness and heart-wrenching anguish and irritation over how he can’t just follow his emotions, act on them, without feeling like he is doing something wrong.
He might not be able to remember that night, what Ian did to him, but he does remember waking up that morning. The way he ached in places he had never hurt in before, the way bruises had littered his body and confusion had blanketed his mind.
Nausea rises in him, bile burning his throat, whenever he remembers the slick wetness between his legs - the way it had pooled underneath him as he sat waiting for his dad. It makes his skin crawl to think of it.
It is odd, though; there are times when he forgets all about it, when he can get through hours and hours like nothing ever happened, but then there are other times when it’s like it is eating him alive, consuming his thoughts and his dreams.
He wonders which makes him weaker; ignoring how he feels and letting the shame run him or giving in and spending an hour on the phone to Blaine crying.
It is one of those nights, the ones that leave him sick with sadness and anger, and he doesn’t want to be alone.
The urge to do something battles with the urge to keep quiet, to let no one know, and Kurt feels as though he is being pulling in two. He knows that if he gives in and calls Blaine, or goes and talks to his dad, it will be like drinking the most delicious coffee and then being faced with a horrid aftertaste.
Sometimes, he thinks as he locks the keys of his phone and settles more firmly into his bed, it is better to do nothing.
~
Kurt has come to appreciate his backyard more than any other place in his house or around it. Inside is too stuffy, too enclosed, and being outside is freeing and refreshing. The tall fence surrounding the entire property and the tall trees that line most of those same edges are a perfect barrier from the rest of the world.
It is still early in the year, less than a week into the spring season, and the cold nips at his skin whenever he goes outside. But Kurt has come to like the feeling, the way it sensitizes him and grounds him, leaves him wide awake and in the moment.
This - being outside with the sun shining on his face and a cool breeze brushing over him - is peaceful, something that Kurt has never really enjoyed before. He wonders what other aspects of him have changed because of Ian.
Blaine shifts on the ground beside him, stretching out his arms before going back to reading the book that he has perched on his knees. His dark hair shines in the sunlight and the features of his face are highlighted by the light’s angle, making Kurt wish he had a camera.
Kurt bites his lip as he peruses Blaine, and a question bubbles up from within. “You know what we talked about - how things, things between us, could have been different?”
Blaine looks up from his book and nods. “Of course.” He doesn’t say more, but his eyes show his confusion, his curiosity, about what Kurt means.
Kurt licks his lips, nervous and unsure, but desiring to ask anyway. “Do you think we could ever be like that? Together?”
Blaine’s face freezes, eyes caught on Kurt’s eyes, and his mouth is dropped just a little bit open. It takes him a few seconds to take control of himself, and when he does he blinks hard and swallows. “Are - are you sure?” he asks cautiously. “Is that what you really want?”
Kurt smothers the peak of irritation that builds in his chest and says, “Eventually. Yes.”
“Eventually?”
Kurt cringes on the inside and drags his eyes from Blaine’s as he says, “I don’t think I’m ready for much right now. As much as I’d like to say ‘hey, I’m doing great’, it’s not like that. I don’t want - I don’t want to rush into anything before I’m ready.” He pauses, picking at a blade of grass poking up between his legs. “But I’d like to try. If you would.”
Blaine grabs hold of Kurt shoulder, pressing gently until Kurt turns his head to look at him again. His eyes, warm and bright in the light of day, are compassionate and something that Kurt can only describe as happy. “Of course I want to. I just don’t want to do anything that will make you uncomfortable.”
Kurt smiles, a little unsure. “I really want this, Blaine. I do.”
Blaine continues to look at him.
Kurt licks his lips. “But I - I don’t want to hold you back.”
“Don’t say that,” Blaine says. “You won’t hold me back.”
“I might,” Kurt says with a little shrug. “I’m scared, Blaine, and I’m scared of how long it will be until I’m not scared anymore.” Kurt lets out a little laugh, dark and nervous. “If that makes any sense.”
“I understand.” Blaine moves his hand from its place on Kurt’s shoulder and finds his way to Kurt’s hand, lacing their fingers together gently. “Let’s not worry about it though, okay? Not now. We can just see how it goes; no expectations, no pressure.”
Kurt clenches his jaw tight, a wave of emotion closing his throat tightly. “That,” he chokes out, “that sounds good.”
Blaine gives Kurt’s fingers a squeeze, eyes crinkling at the corners. “Good. I really, really want to be with you Kurt. But if I ever,” he says, “ever make you uncomfortable -”
“You won’t,” Kurt reassures him, warmed by the concern.
“But if I do,” Blaine says anyway. “Promise to tell me?”
Kurt smiles, eyes moist and throat tight as he nods. “Yeah.”
Blaine’s worry is reassuring, it lets him know that he cares, but Kurt wishes it wasn’t there in the first place.
~
When Kurt opens the front door, hair immaculate even though it is eight in the morning and he has nowhere to go today, the last person he expected to see staring back at him is Mercedes.
“Hi,” she says, her voice quiet and subdued. It reminds Kurt nothing of his best friend, the one who threatened to “cut a bitch” when he had told her he was dating Ian.
“Hi,” he says, unconsciously swinging the door open to let her inside.
When Mercedes approaches she does so tentatively, hesitance painting her every action. She looks like she is afraid that he will yell at her or tell her to leave.
He really doesn’t know what to expect - there was a time, not so long ago, that this would have been easy, that he would have known exactly how this would go. But not now.
She is so familiar, so comforting even as just a presence, that Kurt aches to hug her, to have her hold him tight and say everything will be alright. A sliver of resentment flares like a wind-fuelled ember in his heart; he would have done anything to have that comfort over the last few weeks.
But then all of the pain and the distance between them melts away as she comes in close, eyes unsure and arms loose at her side. Kurt is left feeling bare. Mercedes knows him so well, is almost a sister to him, and as much as he should feel different than he used to around her, everything is the same.
Her arms are suddenly around him, hands locking behind his back as she squeezes him tight. “I’ve missed you.”
Kurt bites his lip and hugs back, eyes sliding shut as he revels in her embrace. He just wants his best friend back.
“I’m so sorry, boo,” Mercedes says, voice muffled in his shoulder. “I should have been here.”
Kurt stays silent, head bent forward so that his forehead is near Mercedes’ hair. He wants to says “I know” and “you should have”, but he doesn’t.
“I just let her take control, let her go on her own. And then I felt so guilty - it should have been me. I should have been there for you.” She’s talking about Rachel.
Kurt doesn’t want to fight, not really, and so he just nods, saying, “You are now.” Kurt pulls away a little after he says it and looks down at Mercedes. “Speaking of - shouldn’t you be at school right now?”
Mercedes smiles just a little and shakes her head. “Naw. I had something more important to do.”
As they share a smile and Kurt lets Mercedes further into the house, he knows that they aren’t completely okay. Maybe it’s the way they have some awkward fumbles where neither knows what to say, or maybe it’s because sometimes he wants to tell her how he feels and finds that he can’t. But it is a start, and that’s better than where they were before.
~
The grass is soft beneath Kurt’s fingers as he plays with the delicate blades, running his fingers over and between them. His other hand, clasped in Blaine’s, reminds him of how good life can sometimes be.
Kurt and Blaine are sitting in Kurt’s backyard again, thighs pressed together as they enjoy the heat of the sun. It is the first day of true warmth in the year and they have brought out a small picnic blanket, which Kurt lets his bare feet stretch over the edge of, enjoying the feel of soft grass under his toes.
As they sit in silence Kurt thinks back to all of Ian’s actions - analyses every move that the man had made in his mind, and he just can’t understand. It is something that he has wondered about since it had happened, and he can’t figure it out.
Why would he do this?
Why would he video it, leave that note on the bedside table, send Kurt that message - any of it? It doesn’t make any sense, not unless Ian thought that he would somehow get away with it, and it makes Kurt’s head spin from the implications.
You would have to be mentally ill to do that to someone and think it was okay, right?
“He had to have planned it,” Kurt finds himself saying.
Blaine shifts and looks over. “Who?”
“Ian.” Kurt looks down at his and Blaine’s hands and runs his thumb over the back of Blaine’s hand. “I mean - why else would he have the drugs, the video recorder? He had to have known what he was going to do.”
A flash of anger passes over Blaine’s features, blink-and-miss-it quick, and he looks like he doesn’t know what to say. Kurt doesn’t blame him.
“I just,” Kurt continues, “don’t understand.”
“Neither do it,” Blaine says quietly, squeezing Kurt’s hand.
The sound of the back door creaking open sends Kurt’s head swiveling around, his eyes squinting against the sun to see who it is.
A large figure in a letterman jacket approaches, his entire body haloed in sunlight, and Kurt recognizes the person because of the distinctive shape of the hair on their head.
Puck drops down on the grass beside Kurt, just off of the blanket, and gives a little wave to Blaine before he leans back on his elbows, stretching his legs out and crossing them at the ankle. His face is turned into the sun, the bright rays catching on his mohawk.
One brow raised high, Kurt stares at Puck with something that is not quite surprise swirling in him. Since the night they had met at the park and sat together, Kurt has felt a connection to the other boy; he can’t quite call it a friendship yet, but he thinks that it is very close to being so.
Puck doesn’t move to face Kurt as he begins to speak. “Azimio was suspended today.”
Kurt’s brows pull together in confusion, unsure as to why Puck would tell him this. “And?”
“He punched Jacob Ben Israel and destroyed his camera. No one knows why, but I have a good idea of what Jacob was probably asking him about.”
Kurt feels a sinking in his chest; he’s been avoiding the gossip blogs connected with McKinley high because he knows what is likely on them. But to have his suspicions confirmed, however subtly, is like a punch to the gut. “Oh.”
“Oh,” Kurt says again after a moment, thinking back to the encounter in the mall.
“Yeah,” Puck grunts, misunderstanding what Kurt meant. “It doesn’t make any sense, but I thought you might want to know.”
Kurt nods, knowing that Puck doesn’t know about what happened in the mall, what he had yelled at Azimio in the heat of their fight. “Thanks.”
The three of them sit peacefully for a while, soaking up the sun and letting their thoughts take hold. Kurt feels calmer and more connected right now than he has in a long time.
When the silence has stretched out long, to the point that it is almost becoming tangibly thin, Kurt speaks. “My tests all came back negative. They say Ian is negative, too. I still have to go for a three and six month test, but they think I’m clear.” Kurt says it without preamble, just letting the words fall from his lips.
Blaine looks over quickly, his attention intent as he smiles widely. “That’s great news,” he says.
Puck doesn’t move, instead keeping still as though he hadn’t heard the announcement. But Kurt sees the way his shoulders relax just a little and the lines on his forehead smooth - it is almost imperceptible, the change.
Blaine wraps one arm around Kurt’s shoulders and leans in, sharing his warmth and happiness through touch, and Kurt presses in close too. The way their shoulders fit together, the way they are holding close and intimate is comfortable and easy, and Kurt relaxes into it, enjoying the companionship.
~
Standing from the kitchen table with his mostly emptied plate in his hands, Kurt makes his way to the sink to put his scraps through the garburator and rinse his dishes. He can’t help but jump as a hand lands on his shoulder.
His dad looks down at him and says, “Nice job on dinner, bud. Me ‘n’ Carole really appreciate you making it.”
Kurt smiles at his dad, taking the plate from his hand and clearing it off, too. “It’s no problem, especially not with my recent time off.”
Burt nods and the smile drops from his lips as a more concerned expression takes hold. “Speaking of that. Are you ready to go back? Because we can talk to the administration and get you some more time if you need it.”
Kurt glances back at the table where Finn and Carole are clearing away the dishes and putting away leftovers before turning back to his dad. “I think I have to be,” he says. “It’s almost been two weeks - I have to go back some time.”
His dad doesn’t say anything, his silence an answer on its own, and Kurt turns and hugs him abruptly, cheek resting on a plaid-clad shoulder. “Tomorrow’s a Friday - it’ll only be one day, and then it’s the weekend.”
His dad squeezes him tighter.
They stay like that for a moment, both absorbed in the embrace, and when Kurt reluctantly pulls away he notices that Finn and Carole have left.
Looking into his dad’s eyes and straightening his posture, Kurt says, “I’ll be okay.”
Burt nods slowly. “I know you will.” He says it without doubt, as though it is already truth.
“Thanks dad. I love you.”
Burt smiles and Kurt sees so much in the expression - pride, sadness, hope - that it hurts. “I love you, too.”
Kurt leaves his dad in the kitchen with one last quick hug before making his way upstairs. There is an uncharacteristic amount of clutter littering the floor, textbooks and magazines and a few TV series box sets, but Kurt ignores it in favor of stepping over it all and sitting in front of his computer.
The screen glares brightly at him, the familiar sight of his inbox an unwelcome and haunting greeting. He knows that somewhere, about three pages of messages back, a certain e-mail waits. It taunts him every time he is online, and more often than not he finds himself hovering his mouse over the title, some sort of morbid anxiety settled between his ribs.
He clicks ‘back’ in his inbox twice, and when it appears, nondescript but screaming at him all at once, Kurt doesn’t know what to do at first.
He has kept it out of some sense of need, and as his hand shifts the mouse to point at the ‘delete’ button, Kurt realizes that he doesn’t need it. There is barely a hesitation as he presses his pointer finger down, causing an ‘are you sure you want to delete?’ warning box appear. It is with even less hesitation that he clicks ‘yes’.
Watching the message, along with the video, disappear from the list doesn’t break some damn of emotion and kick-start his healing. It doesn’t make him feel any better about what happened. But it does send a tendril of satisfaction through him.
Kurt turns the screen of his computer off and stands, grabbing his cell and typing a message as he walks to his bed. After he hits ‘send’ he leaves his phone on his bed and turns toward his closet. He knows exactly what he’s going to wear tomorrow.
Meet at the Lima Bean before class tomorrow? ---Kurt
Of course ---Blaine
~ the end ~
I really want to thank all of you who read and commented -- you guys give me the courage to post what I write, and I will always be so grateful for your words. Just - thank you ♥
I'm thinking of writing (aka have already started) a series of timestamps/events in this 'verse. Those planned include the first day back at Dalton, the three/six month blood tests, Ian's sentencing and Kurt's first flashback (mine occurred eight years later, so I'll probably set this quite a bit in the future, if only to show a slice of what Kurt's life is like at the time). Would y'all in interested in reading if I do this? Do you want to see anything else covered?
Thank you for reading, and I hope you enjoyed.
Rating: NC-17
Pairing: OMC/Kurt; Blaine/Kurt
Spoilers: up to 2.14 (BIOTA)
Word Count: ~25,500
Warnings: HIGHLIGHT TO READ - especially if you have triggers *non-con, language*
Summary: Kurt meets someone at the Lima Bean, thinking he’s found the perfect boyfriend. He is sadly mistaken. AU branching off from BIOTA.
A/N: A fill for THIS prompt at the angst meme.
One | Two | Three | Four | Five | Six | Seven | Eight | Nine
~
Blaine leaves with a procession of hugs and farewells from the Hummel family, walking out into the early evening with a light coat over his shoulders and a Dalton scarf around his neck. Kurt’s heart aches as he goes, and the remnants of their conversation are like lead weights inside of his chest.
It has been a week and four days since that night, and Blaine has been a constant. No matter the time or the difficulty of the situation, Blaine has been there for Kurt. The only person around more is his dad.
Blaine’s presence has been a double-edged blade, though; Kurt is so grateful, so happy, that he has such a wonderful friend, one who wants to spend so much time with him. But it is a constant reminder of what could - what couldn’t - have been.
Especially now that he knows that Blaine thinks of him like that. Now that he has had time to think about it.
As much as Kurt keeps the saying ‘the past is in the past’ interwoven in all of his introspection, he can’t seem to stop wondering how it could have been different. What it could have been like if Blaine had only stepped up and taken a chance on him.
There is a part of him, one that he will keep locked up deep inside, that holds a reserve of resentment for Blaine. It is small and he hates that it even exists, but it is there nonetheless and there is nothing he can do, nothing that he can think of to do, that will make it go away.
He doesn’t blame Blaine for what happened - how could he? - but the ‘what if’s’ and ‘could have been’s’ haunt him in ways that are deeper than his logical surface consciousness. They plague him, swarm his mind and make him want to scream.
They make him want to rally against any reason that Blaine had to not want him before he had met Ian. Make him wonder what is so wrong with him that Blaine couldn’t see beyond it.
Even though he knows these thoughts aren’t true, that what happened had nothing to do with any failing on his or Blaine’s part, they still exist. And Kurt knows that he will do everything in his power to keep Blaine from ever knowing that he thinks them - these are the things that whisper in the back of Kurt’s mind in the dark of night. And they will stay that way.
~
Kurt sits alone in his room, an open issue of Vogue on the bed beside him, two of his class textbooks piled on the other side of him, and his phone held in one hand. He feels like he has to do something, anything, but nothing feels right.
His mind won’t stop spinning with thoughts, the lines of them trailing around and around despite any sort of distraction he tries, and they are starting to take over everything.
No matter how many times he tells himself that he is justified in how he feels, in reacting so strongly, there is a deep shame that eats at him. It will flare when he is having a low day, when his emotion are in turmoil, and he will feel guilty for letting what Ian did to him affect him.
Sometimes when he just wants to sit alone and cry, or call Blaine and talk, he will force himself to get on with life, to ignore how horrible he feels.
It isn’t some inner strength that keeps him moving, leaves him silent; it is the overwhelming sense of shame that encompasses everything.
More often than not he finds his daily activities tainted by sadness and heart-wrenching anguish and irritation over how he can’t just follow his emotions, act on them, without feeling like he is doing something wrong.
He might not be able to remember that night, what Ian did to him, but he does remember waking up that morning. The way he ached in places he had never hurt in before, the way bruises had littered his body and confusion had blanketed his mind.
Nausea rises in him, bile burning his throat, whenever he remembers the slick wetness between his legs - the way it had pooled underneath him as he sat waiting for his dad. It makes his skin crawl to think of it.
It is odd, though; there are times when he forgets all about it, when he can get through hours and hours like nothing ever happened, but then there are other times when it’s like it is eating him alive, consuming his thoughts and his dreams.
He wonders which makes him weaker; ignoring how he feels and letting the shame run him or giving in and spending an hour on the phone to Blaine crying.
It is one of those nights, the ones that leave him sick with sadness and anger, and he doesn’t want to be alone.
The urge to do something battles with the urge to keep quiet, to let no one know, and Kurt feels as though he is being pulling in two. He knows that if he gives in and calls Blaine, or goes and talks to his dad, it will be like drinking the most delicious coffee and then being faced with a horrid aftertaste.
Sometimes, he thinks as he locks the keys of his phone and settles more firmly into his bed, it is better to do nothing.
~
Kurt has come to appreciate his backyard more than any other place in his house or around it. Inside is too stuffy, too enclosed, and being outside is freeing and refreshing. The tall fence surrounding the entire property and the tall trees that line most of those same edges are a perfect barrier from the rest of the world.
It is still early in the year, less than a week into the spring season, and the cold nips at his skin whenever he goes outside. But Kurt has come to like the feeling, the way it sensitizes him and grounds him, leaves him wide awake and in the moment.
This - being outside with the sun shining on his face and a cool breeze brushing over him - is peaceful, something that Kurt has never really enjoyed before. He wonders what other aspects of him have changed because of Ian.
Blaine shifts on the ground beside him, stretching out his arms before going back to reading the book that he has perched on his knees. His dark hair shines in the sunlight and the features of his face are highlighted by the light’s angle, making Kurt wish he had a camera.
Kurt bites his lip as he peruses Blaine, and a question bubbles up from within. “You know what we talked about - how things, things between us, could have been different?”
Blaine looks up from his book and nods. “Of course.” He doesn’t say more, but his eyes show his confusion, his curiosity, about what Kurt means.
Kurt licks his lips, nervous and unsure, but desiring to ask anyway. “Do you think we could ever be like that? Together?”
Blaine’s face freezes, eyes caught on Kurt’s eyes, and his mouth is dropped just a little bit open. It takes him a few seconds to take control of himself, and when he does he blinks hard and swallows. “Are - are you sure?” he asks cautiously. “Is that what you really want?”
Kurt smothers the peak of irritation that builds in his chest and says, “Eventually. Yes.”
“Eventually?”
Kurt cringes on the inside and drags his eyes from Blaine’s as he says, “I don’t think I’m ready for much right now. As much as I’d like to say ‘hey, I’m doing great’, it’s not like that. I don’t want - I don’t want to rush into anything before I’m ready.” He pauses, picking at a blade of grass poking up between his legs. “But I’d like to try. If you would.”
Blaine grabs hold of Kurt shoulder, pressing gently until Kurt turns his head to look at him again. His eyes, warm and bright in the light of day, are compassionate and something that Kurt can only describe as happy. “Of course I want to. I just don’t want to do anything that will make you uncomfortable.”
Kurt smiles, a little unsure. “I really want this, Blaine. I do.”
Blaine continues to look at him.
Kurt licks his lips. “But I - I don’t want to hold you back.”
“Don’t say that,” Blaine says. “You won’t hold me back.”
“I might,” Kurt says with a little shrug. “I’m scared, Blaine, and I’m scared of how long it will be until I’m not scared anymore.” Kurt lets out a little laugh, dark and nervous. “If that makes any sense.”
“I understand.” Blaine moves his hand from its place on Kurt’s shoulder and finds his way to Kurt’s hand, lacing their fingers together gently. “Let’s not worry about it though, okay? Not now. We can just see how it goes; no expectations, no pressure.”
Kurt clenches his jaw tight, a wave of emotion closing his throat tightly. “That,” he chokes out, “that sounds good.”
Blaine gives Kurt’s fingers a squeeze, eyes crinkling at the corners. “Good. I really, really want to be with you Kurt. But if I ever,” he says, “ever make you uncomfortable -”
“You won’t,” Kurt reassures him, warmed by the concern.
“But if I do,” Blaine says anyway. “Promise to tell me?”
Kurt smiles, eyes moist and throat tight as he nods. “Yeah.”
Blaine’s worry is reassuring, it lets him know that he cares, but Kurt wishes it wasn’t there in the first place.
~
When Kurt opens the front door, hair immaculate even though it is eight in the morning and he has nowhere to go today, the last person he expected to see staring back at him is Mercedes.
“Hi,” she says, her voice quiet and subdued. It reminds Kurt nothing of his best friend, the one who threatened to “cut a bitch” when he had told her he was dating Ian.
“Hi,” he says, unconsciously swinging the door open to let her inside.
When Mercedes approaches she does so tentatively, hesitance painting her every action. She looks like she is afraid that he will yell at her or tell her to leave.
He really doesn’t know what to expect - there was a time, not so long ago, that this would have been easy, that he would have known exactly how this would go. But not now.
She is so familiar, so comforting even as just a presence, that Kurt aches to hug her, to have her hold him tight and say everything will be alright. A sliver of resentment flares like a wind-fuelled ember in his heart; he would have done anything to have that comfort over the last few weeks.
But then all of the pain and the distance between them melts away as she comes in close, eyes unsure and arms loose at her side. Kurt is left feeling bare. Mercedes knows him so well, is almost a sister to him, and as much as he should feel different than he used to around her, everything is the same.
Her arms are suddenly around him, hands locking behind his back as she squeezes him tight. “I’ve missed you.”
Kurt bites his lip and hugs back, eyes sliding shut as he revels in her embrace. He just wants his best friend back.
“I’m so sorry, boo,” Mercedes says, voice muffled in his shoulder. “I should have been here.”
Kurt stays silent, head bent forward so that his forehead is near Mercedes’ hair. He wants to says “I know” and “you should have”, but he doesn’t.
“I just let her take control, let her go on her own. And then I felt so guilty - it should have been me. I should have been there for you.” She’s talking about Rachel.
Kurt doesn’t want to fight, not really, and so he just nods, saying, “You are now.” Kurt pulls away a little after he says it and looks down at Mercedes. “Speaking of - shouldn’t you be at school right now?”
Mercedes smiles just a little and shakes her head. “Naw. I had something more important to do.”
As they share a smile and Kurt lets Mercedes further into the house, he knows that they aren’t completely okay. Maybe it’s the way they have some awkward fumbles where neither knows what to say, or maybe it’s because sometimes he wants to tell her how he feels and finds that he can’t. But it is a start, and that’s better than where they were before.
~
The grass is soft beneath Kurt’s fingers as he plays with the delicate blades, running his fingers over and between them. His other hand, clasped in Blaine’s, reminds him of how good life can sometimes be.
Kurt and Blaine are sitting in Kurt’s backyard again, thighs pressed together as they enjoy the heat of the sun. It is the first day of true warmth in the year and they have brought out a small picnic blanket, which Kurt lets his bare feet stretch over the edge of, enjoying the feel of soft grass under his toes.
As they sit in silence Kurt thinks back to all of Ian’s actions - analyses every move that the man had made in his mind, and he just can’t understand. It is something that he has wondered about since it had happened, and he can’t figure it out.
Why would he do this?
Why would he video it, leave that note on the bedside table, send Kurt that message - any of it? It doesn’t make any sense, not unless Ian thought that he would somehow get away with it, and it makes Kurt’s head spin from the implications.
You would have to be mentally ill to do that to someone and think it was okay, right?
“He had to have planned it,” Kurt finds himself saying.
Blaine shifts and looks over. “Who?”
“Ian.” Kurt looks down at his and Blaine’s hands and runs his thumb over the back of Blaine’s hand. “I mean - why else would he have the drugs, the video recorder? He had to have known what he was going to do.”
A flash of anger passes over Blaine’s features, blink-and-miss-it quick, and he looks like he doesn’t know what to say. Kurt doesn’t blame him.
“I just,” Kurt continues, “don’t understand.”
“Neither do it,” Blaine says quietly, squeezing Kurt’s hand.
The sound of the back door creaking open sends Kurt’s head swiveling around, his eyes squinting against the sun to see who it is.
A large figure in a letterman jacket approaches, his entire body haloed in sunlight, and Kurt recognizes the person because of the distinctive shape of the hair on their head.
Puck drops down on the grass beside Kurt, just off of the blanket, and gives a little wave to Blaine before he leans back on his elbows, stretching his legs out and crossing them at the ankle. His face is turned into the sun, the bright rays catching on his mohawk.
One brow raised high, Kurt stares at Puck with something that is not quite surprise swirling in him. Since the night they had met at the park and sat together, Kurt has felt a connection to the other boy; he can’t quite call it a friendship yet, but he thinks that it is very close to being so.
Puck doesn’t move to face Kurt as he begins to speak. “Azimio was suspended today.”
Kurt’s brows pull together in confusion, unsure as to why Puck would tell him this. “And?”
“He punched Jacob Ben Israel and destroyed his camera. No one knows why, but I have a good idea of what Jacob was probably asking him about.”
Kurt feels a sinking in his chest; he’s been avoiding the gossip blogs connected with McKinley high because he knows what is likely on them. But to have his suspicions confirmed, however subtly, is like a punch to the gut. “Oh.”
“Oh,” Kurt says again after a moment, thinking back to the encounter in the mall.
“Yeah,” Puck grunts, misunderstanding what Kurt meant. “It doesn’t make any sense, but I thought you might want to know.”
Kurt nods, knowing that Puck doesn’t know about what happened in the mall, what he had yelled at Azimio in the heat of their fight. “Thanks.”
The three of them sit peacefully for a while, soaking up the sun and letting their thoughts take hold. Kurt feels calmer and more connected right now than he has in a long time.
When the silence has stretched out long, to the point that it is almost becoming tangibly thin, Kurt speaks. “My tests all came back negative. They say Ian is negative, too. I still have to go for a three and six month test, but they think I’m clear.” Kurt says it without preamble, just letting the words fall from his lips.
Blaine looks over quickly, his attention intent as he smiles widely. “That’s great news,” he says.
Puck doesn’t move, instead keeping still as though he hadn’t heard the announcement. But Kurt sees the way his shoulders relax just a little and the lines on his forehead smooth - it is almost imperceptible, the change.
Blaine wraps one arm around Kurt’s shoulders and leans in, sharing his warmth and happiness through touch, and Kurt presses in close too. The way their shoulders fit together, the way they are holding close and intimate is comfortable and easy, and Kurt relaxes into it, enjoying the companionship.
~
Standing from the kitchen table with his mostly emptied plate in his hands, Kurt makes his way to the sink to put his scraps through the garburator and rinse his dishes. He can’t help but jump as a hand lands on his shoulder.
His dad looks down at him and says, “Nice job on dinner, bud. Me ‘n’ Carole really appreciate you making it.”
Kurt smiles at his dad, taking the plate from his hand and clearing it off, too. “It’s no problem, especially not with my recent time off.”
Burt nods and the smile drops from his lips as a more concerned expression takes hold. “Speaking of that. Are you ready to go back? Because we can talk to the administration and get you some more time if you need it.”
Kurt glances back at the table where Finn and Carole are clearing away the dishes and putting away leftovers before turning back to his dad. “I think I have to be,” he says. “It’s almost been two weeks - I have to go back some time.”
His dad doesn’t say anything, his silence an answer on its own, and Kurt turns and hugs him abruptly, cheek resting on a plaid-clad shoulder. “Tomorrow’s a Friday - it’ll only be one day, and then it’s the weekend.”
His dad squeezes him tighter.
They stay like that for a moment, both absorbed in the embrace, and when Kurt reluctantly pulls away he notices that Finn and Carole have left.
Looking into his dad’s eyes and straightening his posture, Kurt says, “I’ll be okay.”
Burt nods slowly. “I know you will.” He says it without doubt, as though it is already truth.
“Thanks dad. I love you.”
Burt smiles and Kurt sees so much in the expression - pride, sadness, hope - that it hurts. “I love you, too.”
Kurt leaves his dad in the kitchen with one last quick hug before making his way upstairs. There is an uncharacteristic amount of clutter littering the floor, textbooks and magazines and a few TV series box sets, but Kurt ignores it in favor of stepping over it all and sitting in front of his computer.
The screen glares brightly at him, the familiar sight of his inbox an unwelcome and haunting greeting. He knows that somewhere, about three pages of messages back, a certain e-mail waits. It taunts him every time he is online, and more often than not he finds himself hovering his mouse over the title, some sort of morbid anxiety settled between his ribs.
He clicks ‘back’ in his inbox twice, and when it appears, nondescript but screaming at him all at once, Kurt doesn’t know what to do at first.
He has kept it out of some sense of need, and as his hand shifts the mouse to point at the ‘delete’ button, Kurt realizes that he doesn’t need it. There is barely a hesitation as he presses his pointer finger down, causing an ‘are you sure you want to delete?’ warning box appear. It is with even less hesitation that he clicks ‘yes’.
Watching the message, along with the video, disappear from the list doesn’t break some damn of emotion and kick-start his healing. It doesn’t make him feel any better about what happened. But it does send a tendril of satisfaction through him.
Kurt turns the screen of his computer off and stands, grabbing his cell and typing a message as he walks to his bed. After he hits ‘send’ he leaves his phone on his bed and turns toward his closet. He knows exactly what he’s going to wear tomorrow.
Meet at the Lima Bean before class tomorrow? ---Kurt
Of course ---Blaine
~ the end ~
I really want to thank all of you who read and commented -- you guys give me the courage to post what I write, and I will always be so grateful for your words. Just - thank you ♥
I'm thinking of writing (aka have already started) a series of timestamps/events in this 'verse. Those planned include the first day back at Dalton, the three/six month blood tests, Ian's sentencing and Kurt's first flashback (mine occurred eight years later, so I'll probably set this quite a bit in the future, if only to show a slice of what Kurt's life is like at the time). Would y'all in interested in reading if I do this? Do you want to see anything else covered?
Thank you for reading, and I hope you enjoyed.