Fic: Hold me to my word
Title: Hold me to my word
Rating: PG13
Spoilers: Spoilers for Glee S04E05
Word count: 1410
Summary: Blaine reels in the aftermath of The Break Up, and turns to Burt.
Blaine is adrift.
He finds himself floating among the crowd, seeing but not being. Classes are routine, he works through his assignments quietly and teachers are content to ignore any student who looks studious. His schoolmates are different, though; he’s the latest piece of juicy trivia in McKinley. News travels quickly, and there’s the odd person who offers him a bracing smile of sympathy, to which he merely inclines his head in acknowledgement.
He can’t yet bring himself to smile; it still feels like that’d be an insult to Kurt.
Kurt.
Blaine doesn’t quite know what to feel; whenever he tries to be rational about it he can’t slow down and think. Or perhaps he knows exactly how he feels and it is the contradiction that is killing him.
He can’t be properly sad because this whole gigantic confusing mess is all his fault and he deserves to feel this terrible because he was the one who slept with someone, he was the one who allowed someone else’s hands to trail down his body and linger on his neck and slide along his inner thigh, up into places that no one else should ever be. That entire night was a haze of bitter satisfaction and want, and overwhelming guilt that’s been carved into his soul. He was the one that betrayed their relationship and broke their trust and it was all for one meaningless fuck, except he wanted it so badly, but at the same time not at all. Blaine alternates between shaking with the desire to feel the touch of those fingertips down his back again, and scratching madly at his skin, trying to rid himself of a memory he longs for.
Sometimes, righteous anger gets him riled up. Kurt was an uncommunicative asshole who nattered on about work and New York and Rachel Berry makeovers that Blaine can only squeeze in a word edgewise. Even then, it almost always goes back to Glee club and reminisces of old memories in which Kurt looks fondly at Blaine and tells him to treasure his time in high school. They Skype, often eating while watching episodes of Grey’s Anatomy together, but somehow they manage to talk for hours without saying anything of importance. Blaine knows that Kurt has a job, Kurt is out in New York doing things and being busy and has another life to lead, and Kurt is always utterly happy when they talk that he wanted so desperately to keep it that way. Blaine wants to rage at Kurt that it was his fault, for not picking up and speaking in clipped, rushed tones, for being the one who limited the length of their calls, for being the one who made their time together so incredibly precious that Blaine would never ruin it with anything imperfect. Blaine would make Kurt laugh with pictures of his Robin outfit, but never talk about the sniggers and condescending smirks that he’d received along the corridor. Kurt, he thinks vindictively, had urges too, and was selfish and didn’t tell him and coped with it himself and wasn’t this pretty much he had done, once? Blaine wants to grab Kurt and demand answers for questions that elude him, he wants to scream that they’ve always been completely open and honest with each other so why didn’t Kurt say anything to confirm his fears because Blaine can’t, not when Kurt was happy, and that’s when he remembers that this is all still his fault and it circles back into an endless cycle of self-recrimination.
On other days Blaine is just sorry. He desperately wants to clutch Kurt and bury his face into Kurt’s shoulder, and imagines Kurt’s arms circling around him, stroking his back and calming him. Kurt’s hands were always warm, he remembers, and his hands tremble when he wraps his arms around himself, squeezing his eyes shut to pretend he’s elsewhere, in a place where Blaine didn’t cheat on Kurt and everything was okay. He has to pretend, because he knows Kurt would never embrace him ever again, not when there’s no longer any reason for Kurt to speak to him, when Kurt’s return of his unopened packages sends a message that couldn’t be any clearer. He wants to apologize and beg and say things to Kurt, except when he opens his mouth in his bedroom, rehearsing his speech before he attempts to call Kurt, only stammers and broken sentences make their way out. His mind is a blaring cacophony of sorries and but yous and please please please can we talk that he can’t hear himself above all that and Blaine just doesn’t know what to feel.
He knows sorry isn’t enough, not that he has anyone to say it to.
Every corner of the school holds memories of Kurt. Glee club is barely tolerable, when he can clearly see Kurt strutting across the stage, owning his tight gold pants and belting out songs with a range he could never hope to reach. It’s now a stage that he can’t even manage to be on, he thinks, as he, trying to see past his tears, blindly fumbles his way out of the auditorium after his audition.
He flees to his car (where they’d sang Perfect, except they’re not, not anymore, because of him) and drives off unthinkingly. Blaine flips through radio channels furiously, trying to find something, anything good, except there’s no longer anything he likes that doesn’t remind him of Kurt. He drives on, following the road, until he realises that he now only sees the road that leads him to Kurt’s home.
And he’s there. He circles the area and on a complete whim, makes the drive to Burt’s tire shop.
Blaine steps in tentatively, scanning for Finn before he remembers that he’s still in school conducting more auditions. He spots Kurt’s sparkly overalls hanging on a hook in the corner and makes a beeline for it, rubbing the rough material between his fingers and letting the sequins scratch his hand. He holds on to any item of Kurt’s ever since he moved to New York, and isn’t surprised that Burt still leaves a few things lying around.
“Hello, Blaine.” Burt’s gravelly voice issues from behind him, but Blaine can’t turn around to meet his gaze.
“I… has Kurt called?” he asks tentatively.
“Yes.”
“I didn’t mean for anything to happen,” he starts out, hating how his voice shakes. He’s never been this uncertain in front of any authority figures; they were the ones who always trusted him over his peers. “It just… did. And Kurt-”
“He didn’t pick up. Rarely called back. Always has to rush off.” Surprised, Blaine turns around. “I’m his dad,” Burt says.
Blaine nods wordlessly.
“You cheated on my son,” Burt says, looking Blaine straight in the eye. Blaine wants to shrink away into a corner, but forces himself to acknowledge Burt’s penetrating stare.
“And you came to me,” Burt raises an eyebrow, and Blaine is rooted to the spot. “Even knowing I’d be completely furious.”
“You should be,” Blaine quietly offers, unnerved by Burt’s calm. He’d come expecting… more, though he wasn’t able to pinpoint exactly what he thought would happen.
“Damn right I should,” Burt spits out. “I swear, Blaine, I never thought you were this person.”
Blaine physically recoils. “I’m not-I didn’t think I was,” he tries. “But that… that was when I was with Kurt, and now I’m-we’re not…” Blaine lets the sentence trail off, knowing there’s nothing he can say. His world and self was built around Kurt, but what does it say about him that he singlehandedly destroyed their relationship in Kurt’s absence? “I’m sorry,” he adds on, out of pure desperation. “I’m just gonna go,” he whispers, moving away from Burt.
“Blaine!” Burt demands his attention. Blaine holds himself together and waits.
Burt’s hand rests on his shoulder. He feels the warmth, and the tension slowly seeps out of his body. One way or other, this can only get better.
“It happened, it’s your fault, and I hold you responsible,” Burt looks at him evenly, and Blaine shudders with the relief those words bring. It is confirmation of everything he already knows, but for it to be laid out in the open brings catharsis he hadn’t even known he needed.
“You’re young,” Burt sighs. “There’s gonna be plenty of stupid things you’ll do. Make this one right.”
Blaine nods, surer this time
“I’ll try.”
A/N: Concrit greatly appreciated, thank you! (:
Rating: PG13
Spoilers: Spoilers for Glee S04E05
Word count: 1410
Summary: Blaine reels in the aftermath of The Break Up, and turns to Burt.
Blaine is adrift.
He finds himself floating among the crowd, seeing but not being. Classes are routine, he works through his assignments quietly and teachers are content to ignore any student who looks studious. His schoolmates are different, though; he’s the latest piece of juicy trivia in McKinley. News travels quickly, and there’s the odd person who offers him a bracing smile of sympathy, to which he merely inclines his head in acknowledgement.
He can’t yet bring himself to smile; it still feels like that’d be an insult to Kurt.
Kurt.
Blaine doesn’t quite know what to feel; whenever he tries to be rational about it he can’t slow down and think. Or perhaps he knows exactly how he feels and it is the contradiction that is killing him.
He can’t be properly sad because this whole gigantic confusing mess is all his fault and he deserves to feel this terrible because he was the one who slept with someone, he was the one who allowed someone else’s hands to trail down his body and linger on his neck and slide along his inner thigh, up into places that no one else should ever be. That entire night was a haze of bitter satisfaction and want, and overwhelming guilt that’s been carved into his soul. He was the one that betrayed their relationship and broke their trust and it was all for one meaningless fuck, except he wanted it so badly, but at the same time not at all. Blaine alternates between shaking with the desire to feel the touch of those fingertips down his back again, and scratching madly at his skin, trying to rid himself of a memory he longs for.
Sometimes, righteous anger gets him riled up. Kurt was an uncommunicative asshole who nattered on about work and New York and Rachel Berry makeovers that Blaine can only squeeze in a word edgewise. Even then, it almost always goes back to Glee club and reminisces of old memories in which Kurt looks fondly at Blaine and tells him to treasure his time in high school. They Skype, often eating while watching episodes of Grey’s Anatomy together, but somehow they manage to talk for hours without saying anything of importance. Blaine knows that Kurt has a job, Kurt is out in New York doing things and being busy and has another life to lead, and Kurt is always utterly happy when they talk that he wanted so desperately to keep it that way. Blaine wants to rage at Kurt that it was his fault, for not picking up and speaking in clipped, rushed tones, for being the one who limited the length of their calls, for being the one who made their time together so incredibly precious that Blaine would never ruin it with anything imperfect. Blaine would make Kurt laugh with pictures of his Robin outfit, but never talk about the sniggers and condescending smirks that he’d received along the corridor. Kurt, he thinks vindictively, had urges too, and was selfish and didn’t tell him and coped with it himself and wasn’t this pretty much he had done, once? Blaine wants to grab Kurt and demand answers for questions that elude him, he wants to scream that they’ve always been completely open and honest with each other so why didn’t Kurt say anything to confirm his fears because Blaine can’t, not when Kurt was happy, and that’s when he remembers that this is all still his fault and it circles back into an endless cycle of self-recrimination.
On other days Blaine is just sorry. He desperately wants to clutch Kurt and bury his face into Kurt’s shoulder, and imagines Kurt’s arms circling around him, stroking his back and calming him. Kurt’s hands were always warm, he remembers, and his hands tremble when he wraps his arms around himself, squeezing his eyes shut to pretend he’s elsewhere, in a place where Blaine didn’t cheat on Kurt and everything was okay. He has to pretend, because he knows Kurt would never embrace him ever again, not when there’s no longer any reason for Kurt to speak to him, when Kurt’s return of his unopened packages sends a message that couldn’t be any clearer. He wants to apologize and beg and say things to Kurt, except when he opens his mouth in his bedroom, rehearsing his speech before he attempts to call Kurt, only stammers and broken sentences make their way out. His mind is a blaring cacophony of sorries and but yous and please please please can we talk that he can’t hear himself above all that and Blaine just doesn’t know what to feel.
He knows sorry isn’t enough, not that he has anyone to say it to.
Every corner of the school holds memories of Kurt. Glee club is barely tolerable, when he can clearly see Kurt strutting across the stage, owning his tight gold pants and belting out songs with a range he could never hope to reach. It’s now a stage that he can’t even manage to be on, he thinks, as he, trying to see past his tears, blindly fumbles his way out of the auditorium after his audition.
He flees to his car (where they’d sang Perfect, except they’re not, not anymore, because of him) and drives off unthinkingly. Blaine flips through radio channels furiously, trying to find something, anything good, except there’s no longer anything he likes that doesn’t remind him of Kurt. He drives on, following the road, until he realises that he now only sees the road that leads him to Kurt’s home.
And he’s there. He circles the area and on a complete whim, makes the drive to Burt’s tire shop.
Blaine steps in tentatively, scanning for Finn before he remembers that he’s still in school conducting more auditions. He spots Kurt’s sparkly overalls hanging on a hook in the corner and makes a beeline for it, rubbing the rough material between his fingers and letting the sequins scratch his hand. He holds on to any item of Kurt’s ever since he moved to New York, and isn’t surprised that Burt still leaves a few things lying around.
“Hello, Blaine.” Burt’s gravelly voice issues from behind him, but Blaine can’t turn around to meet his gaze.
“I… has Kurt called?” he asks tentatively.
“Yes.”
“I didn’t mean for anything to happen,” he starts out, hating how his voice shakes. He’s never been this uncertain in front of any authority figures; they were the ones who always trusted him over his peers. “It just… did. And Kurt-”
“He didn’t pick up. Rarely called back. Always has to rush off.” Surprised, Blaine turns around. “I’m his dad,” Burt says.
Blaine nods wordlessly.
“You cheated on my son,” Burt says, looking Blaine straight in the eye. Blaine wants to shrink away into a corner, but forces himself to acknowledge Burt’s penetrating stare.
“And you came to me,” Burt raises an eyebrow, and Blaine is rooted to the spot. “Even knowing I’d be completely furious.”
“You should be,” Blaine quietly offers, unnerved by Burt’s calm. He’d come expecting… more, though he wasn’t able to pinpoint exactly what he thought would happen.
“Damn right I should,” Burt spits out. “I swear, Blaine, I never thought you were this person.”
Blaine physically recoils. “I’m not-I didn’t think I was,” he tries. “But that… that was when I was with Kurt, and now I’m-we’re not…” Blaine lets the sentence trail off, knowing there’s nothing he can say. His world and self was built around Kurt, but what does it say about him that he singlehandedly destroyed their relationship in Kurt’s absence? “I’m sorry,” he adds on, out of pure desperation. “I’m just gonna go,” he whispers, moving away from Burt.
“Blaine!” Burt demands his attention. Blaine holds himself together and waits.
Burt’s hand rests on his shoulder. He feels the warmth, and the tension slowly seeps out of his body. One way or other, this can only get better.
“It happened, it’s your fault, and I hold you responsible,” Burt looks at him evenly, and Blaine shudders with the relief those words bring. It is confirmation of everything he already knows, but for it to be laid out in the open brings catharsis he hadn’t even known he needed.
“You’re young,” Burt sighs. “There’s gonna be plenty of stupid things you’ll do. Make this one right.”
Blaine nods, surer this time
“I’ll try.”
A/N: Concrit greatly appreciated, thank you! (: