Prompt Post #7
Welcome to the Glee Angst Meme again! You know how these things work. You can come here and prompt your most angsty prompts, and write stories filling those angsty prompts to let our characters suffer.
Page A Mod Post
Rules Post
PP7 Discussion Post
Lonely Prompts Post
Please remember to place any Trigger Warnings in the subject line of your ( Read more... )
Page A Mod Post
Rules Post
PP7 Discussion Post
Lonely Prompts Post
Please remember to place any Trigger Warnings in the subject line of your ( Read more... )
“This was my senior prom,” he continues when it becomes apparent that Blaine isn’t going to say anything. “You only get one senior prom, Blaine, and you ruined mine because you were so fixated on your hair. What is with you, lately?”
He can hear the strange shudder of Blaine’s breath, but he’s so stuck on the sight of that piece of confetti stuck in Blaine’s hair that it’s like everything else fades out of focus. It’s just so unfair.
“I - I don’t-”
There’s something weird in that, in the way Blaine’s voice wavers when he starts to speak, but Kurt’s so sick of it - of Blaine getting to do whatever he wants, of acting like a spoiled brat if everything doesn’t go his way, that he doesn’t want to notice.
“You’re like Rachel on steroids at the moment - you were awful to your brother when he was in town, after he volunteered all that time to help us out and everything, and then you flipped out and sang a break-up song in front of the whole glee club because I was texting someone else and now, this Blaine,” Kurt takes a deep breath, surprised at how good it feels to finally get this off his chest, at how much this has been bothering him. “It’s just your hair. I really think you need to grow up.”
Someone is clapping.
Kurt turns his head, surprised to realize that there are people lingering around them, some blatantly listening and still others pretending to linger nearby, but almost the entire glee club are hovering a few feet away, watching with wide eyes.
Reply
Kurt reaches for it, so sick of looking at it like it’s some horrific metaphor for everything that’s gone wrong with this entire night, and is stunned when Blaine physically recoils, jerking out of his reach and stumbling back a step or two.
His chin lifts and for a moment Kurt catches sight of his face, lit up by the streetlight; wet with tears and something strange and wild in his features, the fine tremble of Blaine’s entire body and something niggles at him, something Kurt feels like he should be remembering but he’s so angry now.
So angry at Blaine’s refusal to even acknowledge him, to just admit that he’s done something wrong; that when Blaine turns and starts stalking away, the click of his dress shoes viciously loud against the dead silence that surrounds them before it quickens into a run and any other thought disappears.
Of course he’d storm off.
“Blaine-”
There’s the weight of a hand on his shoulder and Finn’s there, shaking his head and saying, “Dude, just let him go. I don’t know what his problem is-”
“He’s probably just embarrassed that he looks like a Chia Pet,” Santana cuts in with a roll of her eyes. “Whatever, he’ll get over it. No need to ruin everybody else’s night because your boy’s a bigger drama queen than Berry.”
“He rode with us,” Rachel breaks in from where she’s pressed into Finn’s side, “Shouldn’t we at least-”
“He’s a big boy,” Santana cuts her off, already moving past them in the direction of her car, Brittany trailing along after her. “I’m sure he can find his own way home. Now I don’t know about you losers but I wants to get my drink on, so can we go?”
“Yes,” half of the club seems to echo in exasperated response, like they’re as sick of waiting around in the parking lot as Kurt suddenly feels.
He glances in the direction Blaine had stormed off in, anger still boiling low in his gut, and is startled when an arm slips through his, looks over to see Mercedes eyeing him thoughtfully before she says, “Don’t let him ruin the rest of your night, Kurt. Just come have fun.”
Kurt doesn’t need to be told twice.
--
Reply
And maybe the fact that Blaine wasn’t with him, that he didn’t get his goodnight kiss or anything else like he’d been hoping for, one more stupid high school tradition that he’ll never accomplish, still stings a little. But he’d had fun and that’s the main thing.
What he doesn’t expect is to find his dad sitting on the sofa, the television playing some football game repeat at a low volume, so obviously waiting for them. He looks up around and his face is so serious, not the curious how was your night? that Kurt was half-expecting that Kurt freezes in the doorway and Finn, not watching where he’s going, smacks right into him.
There’s silence, Finn trying to surreptitiously smooth his mussed up hair and wrinkled clothes like it will hide what he obviously spent a great deal of the after party doing, before his dad asks, “You have a good night?”
His voice is a little croaky, like he’s half asleep and Kurt wants to tell him off - to remind him that he needs to stick to a good sleeping schedule and not overtax himself, but there’s something weird about the way he’s watching them.
“Yeah,” Finn replies uncomfortably, “Yeah it was really good. In the end.”
Kurt nods in agreement, unable to come up with words for why he suddenly feels uncomfortable.
“That’s good,” his dad replies, reaching for the remote to turn the television off and leaving them in the dark with only silence to fill the space between them before he reaches to turn on the lamp. “You go on up to bed, Finn, I want to talk to Kurt.”
Finn seems relieved at the dismissal, his goodnight followed by a hasty retreat that makes Kurt even more nervous. Suddenly the light, fuzzy warmth of that drink seems a lot less pleasant than it had before.
“I’m glad you had a good night,” his dad says and Kurt follows the gesture that he should sit down cautiously, half anticipating some sort of reminiscence about what his dad’s prom had been like or some story about his mother, instead Kurt gets a strange, weighted look before his dad asks, “You wanna tell me why I got a call at two in the morning from your boyfriend’s father, asking why his son walked home from prom?”
Kurt freezes, the glow of the evening draining from him with the realization that of course this was about Blaine. Of course he’d managed to find a way to ruin his night after all.
“Because he did?”
Reply
“He’s the one who ran off,” Kurt replies immediately, bristling at the implication that after everything Blaine’s done tonight it’s his fault that he hadn’t been bright enough to call someone and ask for a ride instead of walking home like some sulky child. “He’s been going on about his hair all week, because Brittany banned hairgel, and he spent the whole night sulking when she made him wash it out and then he got mad when I told him he’d ruined my night and he stormed off.”
“I’m not going to say you were wrong Kurt, because I want you to have everything you want and if your night didn’t go so well I’m sorry.”
Kurt can feel the ‘but’ coming on.
“But I think that you should know what Blaine’s father told me.”
Kurt frowns, waiting as his dad shifts a little to face him, looking strangely tired and so much older in his worn old dressing gown and out of the suits he’s been wearing lately.
“Kurt, he asked me what right we had to put his family through that kind of worry again. To make Blaine relive that night again. Do you know what he was talking about?”
Something sticks in Kurt’s chest and his stomach squirms uncomfortably, the weight of his father’s stare making him shift as so many things start to click into place that he hadn’t considered. That he hadn’t even thought about because he’d been so annoyed by Blaine prattling on about his hair all week.
“I-”
It hits him like a bombshell. Blaine squirming uncomfortably in the auditorium while he and Rachel exchanged looks, tried not to laugh, as he fumbles through excuses about balloons and silk-blends and static electricity and finally said, voice strangely quiet and upset, “It’s not funny, I don’t want to go.”
How readily Blaine had agreed to the proposal of the anti-prom, even after Santana railed against it being one giant pity party for Rachel. How hesitant he’d been even as Finn rounded them up to go to prom, rambling about pretending to be an ice sculpture or something that Kurt had already tuned out.
Reply
- Oh.
“Kurt?”
His dad sounds concerned, reaching out to grab his arm and frowning. “Blaine’s dad wasn’t happy kid, he sounded like he would have pulled him out of McKinley right then and there if it wasn’t the middle of the night.”
It’s suddenly all so clear, so obvious that he wonders how he couldn’t have seen it. How he ever could have thought that Blaine dancing with him at last year’s prom could have fixed whatever it was that broke inside of Blaine the night three guys jumped him after a school dance.
Blaine hiding his face against Kurt’s shoulder so he couldn’t see the people staring.
Kurt stopping him outside in the parking lot, surrounded by people loitering, watching, listening in - reaching out for that piece of confetti with his hand and Blaine turning around and running.
He hadn’t walked away.
He’d ran.
Kurt thinks he might want to be sick.
“Dad,” he breathes out shakily, realizing he’d been dancing and laughing and celebrating as some kind of elaborate retaliation against Blaine ruining his night while Blaine was walking home, his phone, god, his phone in the glovebox of Rachel’s car, because Kurt had said it ruined the silhouette of his suit) having been made to relive some twisted parody of the worst night of his life. “I think - I think I really messed up.”
It really wasn’t about the hair at all.
-
Reply
Reply
Reply
Reply
Reply
Reply
Thank you! I really needed it after that terrible episode.
Reply
This was awesome!
Reply
Reply
Reply
Reply
I am so amongst the votes for a sequel. I just want to see how Kurt will try to resolve this!
Reply
Leave a comment