A Touch of the Fingertips, Chapter 16
Title: A Touch of the Fingertips
Chapter: 16 - Howl
Rating: PG-13 this part, NC-17 overall
Pairing: Kurt/Blaine
Spoilers: None
Word Count: ~2,200
Summary: Kurt has barely ever made contact with anyone outside of his family because he is a faerie. However, this is not the small, winged creature you expect. It is a creature, or person, which makes a connection when it touches another. When Kurt accidentally meets Blaine Anderson, this becomes an even greater problem than Kurt ever predicted.
Author's Note: I'm sorry it's been a while since I updated! I just have a lot of things to do now, but I do apologise. Anyway, this chapter didn't exactly follow its plan, but I definitely like it better this way. There's a lot of emotions going on, so prepare yourselves. I feel a bit drained after this! As always, tumble with me.
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“She said she didn’t know you?”
Kurt nodded and curled himself closer to Blaine’s chest. “She said I’d got the wrong person. But I touched her, Blaine: I know it was her.”
Blaine stroked his fingers through Kurt’s hair as he wiped a tear from the other boy’s cheek. Kurt was so sick of crying. These past few weeks had been one big wave of pain and he couldn’t bear it any more. His breath quivered around a quiet sob as he lay against Blaine’s chest and he just wished it wouldn’t. He didn’t want to cry over Rachel, or corrupt government, or other faeries’ pain. He was so tired. He felt like he could sleep for the next month. On the other hand, sleep had been difficult lately: there were too many distressing things to think about and he’d lay there, sheets twisted up and around his legs, body contorted into myriad positions and totally unable to rest. He would think about all the things he would lose, had already lost, and suddenly there were too many thoughts and not enough air.
He would cry until his vision felt black around the edges. He’d lie back and try to breathe, everything clawing at him. He could feel it tearing him from the inside out. There were times, as he was slipping between consciousness and slumber, when he’d see it all with his eyes rolled back in his head. He was bound to a wall, bloodied and bruised, staring across at the hollow, large-eyed, delicate-featured girl that had been ripping his life apart. They were chained, both of them, violated. When he woke, sitting up in a cold sweat, he wouldn’t understand. He could never figure out why she would be there. She was just a girl. Just a girl from Ohio with a really great voice and Kurt’s heart in the palm of her hand.
She was always there, though. It was the pair of them in a dungeon or a bedroom or other bland, dank rooms. Kurt could always tell that Blaine wasn’t there; that he didn’t know where Kurt was or how to get to him.
The night before, the night after he saw her again, she had been even more bruised than before. She’d stared at Kurt with empty eyes and the memory of it made him shiver in Blaine’s arms.
“You know she lives here now,” Blaine said and Kurt jerked. He had forgotten where he was. The other boy looked down at him with a frown and cupped Kurt’s cheek with his hand. “Hey, what was that?”
“Nothing,” Kurt said, voice scratchy with tears. “I just drifted away. You surprised me.”
Blaine stared hard at him. Kurt was sure he could see the crack that was forming in his eyes. Blaine brushed a thumb across the dark circle under Kurt’s right eye.
“You’re not sleeping right,” he said.
“I’m fine,” Kurt said with a shake of the head. “You’re right: she lives here. I must be able to find her again.”
Blaine obviously did not want to follow Kurt’s change of subject, but he did so, frowning. “There’s a lot more hope now. I mean, when we thought she lived in New York…” He placed a hand on the back of Kurt’s head, guiding it under his chin and wrapping an arm around Kurt’s back again. The taller boy let it happen, breathing in the scent of Blaine in the hollow at the base of the boy’s neck.
Kurt was just about to tell Blaine he loved him when there was a knock on the door. Blaine shifted, trying to get into a more family-friendly position - ideally without any physical contact - but Kurt gripped his forearm to stop him. “Stay,” he whispered against Blaine’s neck. “Please.” Then he called out: “Come in.”
The door handle rattled and Kurt knew it was Finn before the boy even poked his head through the gap. His eyes widened when he took in how Kurt was wrapped in Blaine’s arms, curled between his legs and clutching at him with red-rimmed eyes.
“Oh, sorry, I didn’t mean to-”
“Finn, it’s fine. Just come in,” Kurt said, closing his eyes briefly. He was so, so tired. Somewhere beyond his eyelids he heard Finn close the door behind him and shuffle towards the bed.
“Er, Kurt,” he said and the boy in question snapped his eyes open. “Are you okay? You look kind of…upset.”
Kurt looked up at his brother and tried to think of what to say. He could feel the warmth of Blaine’s body pressed against him, all around him, keeping him safe. Finn’s eyes were so wide and Kurt couldn’t stop thinking about how tall he was from this angle. He felt detached from his own body. He wasn’t really thinking for himself any more.
He thought about the articles. He thought about rich men and expensive suits. He thought about stone walls and chains. He thought about Rachel.
“I’m fine, Finn. Just a bit tired, that’s all.”
Kurt knew how his father would describe Finn. It was the way the man described himself: stupid but not dumb. Finn knew Kurt was lying. He could tell just from the way he was clutching at Blaine’s shirt. Kurt watched Finn frown in disbelief, but he already knew his brother wouldn’t push it. Finn wasn’t dumb, after all. He knew when Kurt didn’t want to talk.
“It’s just been a rough day,” Blaine added with a stroke to Kurt’s back. Finn’s eyes flicked to him, to his arms around Kurt and the weary look in his eyes.
“Okay,” he said. “Well, I just…” His whole stance changed then. Suddenly he was fidgety Finn all over again. There was ‘I don’t want to say this’ written all over his face and the nervous fingers tapping against his leg. “Um, I…Kurt, I…”
Kurt turned his face into Blaine’s chest. “What did you do, Finn?” There was a small thump and then the mattress was tipping. Kurt turned in Blaine’s arms, which wrapped around him more securely as a chin rested on his shoulder, to look at the boy now sitting on his bed. “Just say it,” Kurt told him.
“Kurt, I’m so sorry. I really didn’t mean to,” Finn rushed, reaching a hand towards his brother in supplication. “I wasn’t going to tell you but then I thought that I had to because what if it’s really bad and you don’t know and…I told Quinn.”
Both boys just frowned at Finn, not understanding him at all.
“Sorry,” Blaine said, “who’s Quinn?”
“She’s my girlfriend,” Finn said, looking panicked. “And I…Kurt, I didn’t mean to, I swear.” He turned his eyes back to Kurt’s. “But you came back from New York so depressed and then there was the whole thing with…” He eyes flicked briefly to Blaine. “I just…I was freaked out, Kurt, and I was worried about you. Mom and Burt wouldn’t talk to me about what was going on and I just needed to tell someone and get it off my chest, you know?”
There was silence. Then: “What are you saying?” Blaine asked.
“I told her. I told Quinn you’re a faerie.”
Kurt could feel Blaine’s whole body tense behind him. He could feel the boy start to shout before he could hear it, and even then it was more like a dull roar. It was all too much. There were too many thoughts. Just when he began to believe this was as bad as it would get, something else had to step to the top of the pyramid. He lay limp in Blaine’s arms as his boyfriend yelled furiously at his brother. Finn’s face was crumpling and Kurt vaguely noticed the boy’s hands shaking.
Too much. Everything was too much.
He placed a hand on Blaine’s leg. He squeezed it gently, just once, and there was silence. He felt Blaine draw back into himself, shocked at his own loss of control. The boy’s hands reached up and took Kurt’s, locking their fingers together. Kurt leaned his head back against Blaine’s chest with a sigh.
“Finn.” He didn’t say anything else. There was nothing else to say. Blaine had done the shouting and the anger. There was nothing more that could be done. Kurt couldn’t make Finn take it back. He couldn’t stop perfectly normal, human cheerleader Quinn Fabray from knowing his greatest secret from the world. What had been said could not be unsaid, what had been heard could not be unheard, and Kurt just wanted to sleep. He didn’t want to berate Finn and tell him he would never trust him again. He was sick of arguing with those few people he had to love him. He was sick of pushing people away and nearly losing them. He had a brother and he wanted to keep him, inability to keep a secret and all.
There were all these things he should say trapped in his throat. It was like his mouth was full of water, his whole body saturated. He couldn’t speak if he’d even wanted to.
“I’m sorry,” Finn said once more. It was so quiet, so full of sorrow and self-loathing that Kurt couldn’t even think to hate him. He just shook his head, then shrugged. The series of movements seemed disjointed, but Finn seemed to get what he meant. “You know I never meant to put you in danger.”
Kurt nodded and rested his cheek against Blaine chest. He watched Finn out of the corner of his eye, mouth and ears and everything still waterlogged.
“You won’t…Kurt, you won’t tell Mom and Burt, will you? Your dad would grind me up and sell me as compote.”
“Compost,” Blaine corrected quietly. Kurt snorted, and then leaned his head back and started to laugh. He couldn’t speak, he couldn’t say a single word, but this? God, this felt good. He laughed, clutching at Blaine, and the two other boys smiled nervously at him. He probably looked mad, but Kurt didn’t really care. He felt a bit manic, really, and he was sure it was caused by sleep deprivation but he had all this hurt bottled up and he just needed to stop for a minute. He needed to pause and forget and laugh. He heard Blaine start to chuckle in his ear, connecting to Kurt’s thought process. Finn just watched them in confusion as they laughed, his mouth opening and closing, fish-like.
“What is up with you guys?” he asked eventually. “Are you drunk or something?”
Kurt just laughed harder at that. He leaned into Blaine, wrapping both his arms around the boy’s thigh and shaking against him. The shorter boy stroked a hand up and down his back, his own laughter subsiding.
“No, Finn,” he said, speaking over Kurt’s bursts of laughter, “we won’t tell Burt.” His face suddenly grew very serious. “If you ever do it again, though, we will not be so forgiving. Well…” He broke off and looked at the convulsing boy in his arms. “I won’t. Kurt may forgive you because he’s wonderful like that, but…” He locked eyes with the tall boy opposite him. “He’s important to me, Finn. I know you care about him, too, but I just can’t let something bad happen to him.”
“I get that. I didn’t ever want things to turn out this way. I just feel so bad, you have no idea.”
Blaine gave the boy a wan smile. He stroked Kurt’s hair as the boy in his arms slowly fell into silence, the only sound from him being the heavy sound of each breath. “Thanks for telling us, Finn,” Blaine said, knowing Kurt still wouldn’t speak.
Finn shrugged and pushed himself off the bed. “I guess I’ll leave you guys.” He frowned down at Kurt, and then turned his eyes to Blaine, raising his eyebrows in silent enquiry. Blaine shrugged in reply, worry on every feature. Kurt slipped his fingers into the gaps between Blaine’s and the shorter boy looked down at him, away from Finn. They heard footsteps and the door clicking shut, but neither boy watched Finn leave. Blaine was staring down at Kurt, a deep frown between his eyebrows, and Kurt was avoiding his gaze.
“You’re not telling me something.”
Kurt turned his head further away, but Blaine slid a hand under his cheek and turned it back to face him. Kurt was forced to look him in the eyes.
“Please, Kurt, what’s wrong? You don’t look like you’ve slept for a week and I-I’m worried about you. I love you. You can’t start doing this now.”
“Don’t stress so much, Blaine. You seem to spend all your time turning your hair grey over me. I’m fine.”
Blaine pulled Kurt up so he could press their lips together. “You’re not. You’re just saying that.”
“I’m really not.” Kurt kissed Blaine back, licking the other boy’s bottom lip just once before pulling back. He rested his head in the crook of Blaine’s neck once more. “I’m just exhausted.”
Next
Chapter: 16 - Howl
Rating: PG-13 this part, NC-17 overall
Pairing: Kurt/Blaine
Spoilers: None
Word Count: ~2,200
Summary: Kurt has barely ever made contact with anyone outside of his family because he is a faerie. However, this is not the small, winged creature you expect. It is a creature, or person, which makes a connection when it touches another. When Kurt accidentally meets Blaine Anderson, this becomes an even greater problem than Kurt ever predicted.
Author's Note: I'm sorry it's been a while since I updated! I just have a lot of things to do now, but I do apologise. Anyway, this chapter didn't exactly follow its plan, but I definitely like it better this way. There's a lot of emotions going on, so prepare yourselves. I feel a bit drained after this! As always, tumble with me.
------
“She said she didn’t know you?”
Kurt nodded and curled himself closer to Blaine’s chest. “She said I’d got the wrong person. But I touched her, Blaine: I know it was her.”
Blaine stroked his fingers through Kurt’s hair as he wiped a tear from the other boy’s cheek. Kurt was so sick of crying. These past few weeks had been one big wave of pain and he couldn’t bear it any more. His breath quivered around a quiet sob as he lay against Blaine’s chest and he just wished it wouldn’t. He didn’t want to cry over Rachel, or corrupt government, or other faeries’ pain. He was so tired. He felt like he could sleep for the next month. On the other hand, sleep had been difficult lately: there were too many distressing things to think about and he’d lay there, sheets twisted up and around his legs, body contorted into myriad positions and totally unable to rest. He would think about all the things he would lose, had already lost, and suddenly there were too many thoughts and not enough air.
He would cry until his vision felt black around the edges. He’d lie back and try to breathe, everything clawing at him. He could feel it tearing him from the inside out. There were times, as he was slipping between consciousness and slumber, when he’d see it all with his eyes rolled back in his head. He was bound to a wall, bloodied and bruised, staring across at the hollow, large-eyed, delicate-featured girl that had been ripping his life apart. They were chained, both of them, violated. When he woke, sitting up in a cold sweat, he wouldn’t understand. He could never figure out why she would be there. She was just a girl. Just a girl from Ohio with a really great voice and Kurt’s heart in the palm of her hand.
She was always there, though. It was the pair of them in a dungeon or a bedroom or other bland, dank rooms. Kurt could always tell that Blaine wasn’t there; that he didn’t know where Kurt was or how to get to him.
The night before, the night after he saw her again, she had been even more bruised than before. She’d stared at Kurt with empty eyes and the memory of it made him shiver in Blaine’s arms.
“You know she lives here now,” Blaine said and Kurt jerked. He had forgotten where he was. The other boy looked down at him with a frown and cupped Kurt’s cheek with his hand. “Hey, what was that?”
“Nothing,” Kurt said, voice scratchy with tears. “I just drifted away. You surprised me.”
Blaine stared hard at him. Kurt was sure he could see the crack that was forming in his eyes. Blaine brushed a thumb across the dark circle under Kurt’s right eye.
“You’re not sleeping right,” he said.
“I’m fine,” Kurt said with a shake of the head. “You’re right: she lives here. I must be able to find her again.”
Blaine obviously did not want to follow Kurt’s change of subject, but he did so, frowning. “There’s a lot more hope now. I mean, when we thought she lived in New York…” He placed a hand on the back of Kurt’s head, guiding it under his chin and wrapping an arm around Kurt’s back again. The taller boy let it happen, breathing in the scent of Blaine in the hollow at the base of the boy’s neck.
Kurt was just about to tell Blaine he loved him when there was a knock on the door. Blaine shifted, trying to get into a more family-friendly position - ideally without any physical contact - but Kurt gripped his forearm to stop him. “Stay,” he whispered against Blaine’s neck. “Please.” Then he called out: “Come in.”
The door handle rattled and Kurt knew it was Finn before the boy even poked his head through the gap. His eyes widened when he took in how Kurt was wrapped in Blaine’s arms, curled between his legs and clutching at him with red-rimmed eyes.
“Oh, sorry, I didn’t mean to-”
“Finn, it’s fine. Just come in,” Kurt said, closing his eyes briefly. He was so, so tired. Somewhere beyond his eyelids he heard Finn close the door behind him and shuffle towards the bed.
“Er, Kurt,” he said and the boy in question snapped his eyes open. “Are you okay? You look kind of…upset.”
Kurt looked up at his brother and tried to think of what to say. He could feel the warmth of Blaine’s body pressed against him, all around him, keeping him safe. Finn’s eyes were so wide and Kurt couldn’t stop thinking about how tall he was from this angle. He felt detached from his own body. He wasn’t really thinking for himself any more.
He thought about the articles. He thought about rich men and expensive suits. He thought about stone walls and chains. He thought about Rachel.
“I’m fine, Finn. Just a bit tired, that’s all.”
Kurt knew how his father would describe Finn. It was the way the man described himself: stupid but not dumb. Finn knew Kurt was lying. He could tell just from the way he was clutching at Blaine’s shirt. Kurt watched Finn frown in disbelief, but he already knew his brother wouldn’t push it. Finn wasn’t dumb, after all. He knew when Kurt didn’t want to talk.
“It’s just been a rough day,” Blaine added with a stroke to Kurt’s back. Finn’s eyes flicked to him, to his arms around Kurt and the weary look in his eyes.
“Okay,” he said. “Well, I just…” His whole stance changed then. Suddenly he was fidgety Finn all over again. There was ‘I don’t want to say this’ written all over his face and the nervous fingers tapping against his leg. “Um, I…Kurt, I…”
Kurt turned his face into Blaine’s chest. “What did you do, Finn?” There was a small thump and then the mattress was tipping. Kurt turned in Blaine’s arms, which wrapped around him more securely as a chin rested on his shoulder, to look at the boy now sitting on his bed. “Just say it,” Kurt told him.
“Kurt, I’m so sorry. I really didn’t mean to,” Finn rushed, reaching a hand towards his brother in supplication. “I wasn’t going to tell you but then I thought that I had to because what if it’s really bad and you don’t know and…I told Quinn.”
Both boys just frowned at Finn, not understanding him at all.
“Sorry,” Blaine said, “who’s Quinn?”
“She’s my girlfriend,” Finn said, looking panicked. “And I…Kurt, I didn’t mean to, I swear.” He turned his eyes back to Kurt’s. “But you came back from New York so depressed and then there was the whole thing with…” He eyes flicked briefly to Blaine. “I just…I was freaked out, Kurt, and I was worried about you. Mom and Burt wouldn’t talk to me about what was going on and I just needed to tell someone and get it off my chest, you know?”
There was silence. Then: “What are you saying?” Blaine asked.
“I told her. I told Quinn you’re a faerie.”
Kurt could feel Blaine’s whole body tense behind him. He could feel the boy start to shout before he could hear it, and even then it was more like a dull roar. It was all too much. There were too many thoughts. Just when he began to believe this was as bad as it would get, something else had to step to the top of the pyramid. He lay limp in Blaine’s arms as his boyfriend yelled furiously at his brother. Finn’s face was crumpling and Kurt vaguely noticed the boy’s hands shaking.
Too much. Everything was too much.
He placed a hand on Blaine’s leg. He squeezed it gently, just once, and there was silence. He felt Blaine draw back into himself, shocked at his own loss of control. The boy’s hands reached up and took Kurt’s, locking their fingers together. Kurt leaned his head back against Blaine’s chest with a sigh.
“Finn.” He didn’t say anything else. There was nothing else to say. Blaine had done the shouting and the anger. There was nothing more that could be done. Kurt couldn’t make Finn take it back. He couldn’t stop perfectly normal, human cheerleader Quinn Fabray from knowing his greatest secret from the world. What had been said could not be unsaid, what had been heard could not be unheard, and Kurt just wanted to sleep. He didn’t want to berate Finn and tell him he would never trust him again. He was sick of arguing with those few people he had to love him. He was sick of pushing people away and nearly losing them. He had a brother and he wanted to keep him, inability to keep a secret and all.
There were all these things he should say trapped in his throat. It was like his mouth was full of water, his whole body saturated. He couldn’t speak if he’d even wanted to.
“I’m sorry,” Finn said once more. It was so quiet, so full of sorrow and self-loathing that Kurt couldn’t even think to hate him. He just shook his head, then shrugged. The series of movements seemed disjointed, but Finn seemed to get what he meant. “You know I never meant to put you in danger.”
Kurt nodded and rested his cheek against Blaine chest. He watched Finn out of the corner of his eye, mouth and ears and everything still waterlogged.
“You won’t…Kurt, you won’t tell Mom and Burt, will you? Your dad would grind me up and sell me as compote.”
“Compost,” Blaine corrected quietly. Kurt snorted, and then leaned his head back and started to laugh. He couldn’t speak, he couldn’t say a single word, but this? God, this felt good. He laughed, clutching at Blaine, and the two other boys smiled nervously at him. He probably looked mad, but Kurt didn’t really care. He felt a bit manic, really, and he was sure it was caused by sleep deprivation but he had all this hurt bottled up and he just needed to stop for a minute. He needed to pause and forget and laugh. He heard Blaine start to chuckle in his ear, connecting to Kurt’s thought process. Finn just watched them in confusion as they laughed, his mouth opening and closing, fish-like.
“What is up with you guys?” he asked eventually. “Are you drunk or something?”
Kurt just laughed harder at that. He leaned into Blaine, wrapping both his arms around the boy’s thigh and shaking against him. The shorter boy stroked a hand up and down his back, his own laughter subsiding.
“No, Finn,” he said, speaking over Kurt’s bursts of laughter, “we won’t tell Burt.” His face suddenly grew very serious. “If you ever do it again, though, we will not be so forgiving. Well…” He broke off and looked at the convulsing boy in his arms. “I won’t. Kurt may forgive you because he’s wonderful like that, but…” He locked eyes with the tall boy opposite him. “He’s important to me, Finn. I know you care about him, too, but I just can’t let something bad happen to him.”
“I get that. I didn’t ever want things to turn out this way. I just feel so bad, you have no idea.”
Blaine gave the boy a wan smile. He stroked Kurt’s hair as the boy in his arms slowly fell into silence, the only sound from him being the heavy sound of each breath. “Thanks for telling us, Finn,” Blaine said, knowing Kurt still wouldn’t speak.
Finn shrugged and pushed himself off the bed. “I guess I’ll leave you guys.” He frowned down at Kurt, and then turned his eyes to Blaine, raising his eyebrows in silent enquiry. Blaine shrugged in reply, worry on every feature. Kurt slipped his fingers into the gaps between Blaine’s and the shorter boy looked down at him, away from Finn. They heard footsteps and the door clicking shut, but neither boy watched Finn leave. Blaine was staring down at Kurt, a deep frown between his eyebrows, and Kurt was avoiding his gaze.
“You’re not telling me something.”
Kurt turned his head further away, but Blaine slid a hand under his cheek and turned it back to face him. Kurt was forced to look him in the eyes.
“Please, Kurt, what’s wrong? You don’t look like you’ve slept for a week and I-I’m worried about you. I love you. You can’t start doing this now.”
“Don’t stress so much, Blaine. You seem to spend all your time turning your hair grey over me. I’m fine.”
Blaine pulled Kurt up so he could press their lips together. “You’re not. You’re just saying that.”
“I’m really not.” Kurt kissed Blaine back, licking the other boy’s bottom lip just once before pulling back. He rested his head in the crook of Blaine’s neck once more. “I’m just exhausted.”
Next