Fic: Remember That Summer (2/?)
Media: Fic
Title: Remember That Summer (2/?)
Rating: R
Spoilers (if any): Up to the latest episode
Warnings (if any): AU-ness! Also, detailed cutting.
Word Count: 3,307
Summary: The summer before his senior year, Blaine Anderson's parents decide their best course of action in 'degaying' Blaine is to send him to live with his aunt, uncle, and cousin out in Lima, Ohio. Nobody could have seen how much their plan backfired in a nuclear explosion by the time school rolled around in late August.
Notes: I do not own "Fire and Ice" by Robert Frost in case anyone is wondering. Also, can I haz author tag?
Master List
The following Tuesday, Blaine has a wardrobe crisis.
He’s always prided himself with not being the effeminate type when it comes to his sexuality. His intense love for watching football and ice hockey, his almost insane collection of video games (he knew of very few people who could honestly say they had several versions of Black Ops next to the latest Little Big Planet on their bookshelf), his idol crush on Helena Bonham Carter - they’ve all kept him out of the stereotype of “gay man” that he doesn’t particularly like.
Then again, his obsession over musicals was always a tip-off. And apparently his hair was, too, according to Kurt.
Looking in the mirror of the guest bathroom, Blaine sighed. He’d spent the weekend driving around Lima and the surrounding area to adjust to the roads and get a sense of where he was. He’d even driven down to Dalton just to see what the drive was like, breaking to walk around the eerily silent campus. It was always hushed in a way during the school year; now it just felt empty and lifeless.
But there was Kurt. If Blaine was honest with himself, he’d realize that the soft-spoken boy had more than a dozen times crept into his thoughts over the weekend. When David invited Blaine along to the group’s weekly bowling excursion, the latter had been a little too excited when he agreed.
Fuck it.
His hand reached for the razor next to the cup holding his toothbrush and toothpaste. Almost in relief, his fingers curled tightly around the handle and he blindly reached behind him with his free hand to turn on the shower. Rose and Jack knew he was going out; the sounds of a running shower wouldn’t be odd.
Some say the world will end in fire. Some say in ice.
He kicked the flip flop off his left foot, adjusting the water temperature to as cold as it would go.
From what I’ve tasted of desire
It didn’t even require holding his breath anymore. Now, he watched as he dug the cool metal of the razor into the skin on the side of his leg, where calf meets shin, and dragged it back towards his calf.
I hold those who favor fire.
The pain, excruciating and beautiful and welcomed, was almost instant. Damn his parents, thinking they could turn him straight by sending him to some random town in the middle of the Midwest. Damn them. They were the cause of this.
And, God, did he miss this feeling. It’d been nearly a week since he’d touched this particular razor. He could feel the blood dripping down the back of his leg, the air mixing with the open cuts, stinging and biting, but all the while reminding him of just how alive he was. Not like how he felt around his parents.
But if I had to perish twice, I think I know enough of hate
He wasn’t in any sort of horrid mood, so one cut would do. Just one to get him through the evening. Maybe Kurt, as self-centered and picky about his acquaintences as Mercedes had described him the other night, would talk to him again. He glanced down at the blood as something twisted in his gut. He shoved the feeling away, trying to feel the good out of what he did.
To say that for destruction ice is also great
He stuck his leg under the frigid water, watching the blood run down his foot, over the edge of his toes - wow, did he really need to trim his toenails - and down the drain, erasing the evidence of his destruction. With it went all feeling, the icy water holding more warmth than his emotions.
And would suffice.
He grabbed one of the black towels he used to helping dry the cuts and gingerly pressed it to his skin. He’d been doing this for years, and what little hair his legs grew weirdly sprouted up in the sparing smooth skin between scars. The first aid kit he used was situated between the toilet Blaine now sat on an the bathroom sink. His foot found the edge of the tub, the same edge he’d just rested his previously less-marked-up leg on, and grabbed the antiseptic and a medium-sized piece of gauze before stowing the kit back in its dark corner.
The sting that came with cleaning the cuts didn’t feel nice at all. He bit his lip as he cringed, thankful that he was smart enough to keep the cuts shallow enough that they wouldn’t need stitches. Gauze soon followed with Neosporin slathered on it with gauze tape to keep it in place.
He stood up, testing out the weight on his foot. A little pain shot through his leg as he took a step forward. A little walking and he wouldn’t even need to limp.
Jeans. Definitely jeans, Blaine thought as he returned to his earlier problem. But not skinny or straight-leg. Loose, baggy but not too much.
Damn you Mother.
He settled with a red Henley with the sleeves rolled up past his elbows with a few buttons undone at the top when he was forced to cover up his torso. His feet found his black flip flops before grabbing his keys and wallet and a pair of socks on the way out the door. He yelled to no one in particular that he was going out and was met with Rose shouting back to have fun, stay safe, and be back by at least dawn.
“Blaine!” Mercedes squealed when he slammed his car door shut. Despite his family’s money, all he’d wanted when it came time to by a car was a silver Mazda to which his parents quickly approved. More money for them to blow on ridiculous trips.
It’d admittedly taken some time to find the bowling alley and Blaine noticed he was a good fifteen minutes late.
“Mercedes!” he greeted back as the short girl threw her arms around him.
“You look more excited to see Blaine than me,” David muttered as several people laughed.
Mercedes whacked him on the arm. “I don’t know him as well as you. Alright,” she said, turning to rest of the group - New Directions, Blaine had been told - and clapping her hands, “Time to get our bowl on!”
“If Finn wins again,” Puck warned, a joking tone accompanying his serious look.
“Maybe the hobbit’s got something up his sleeve,” Santana said. “I mean, they are rolled up. Who knows what secrets they’re hiding.”
Blaine felt a flurry of excitement when he ended up next to Kurt in the back of the line.
“So where in Manhattan are you from?” Kurt asked after a few minutes.
“Park and Fifty-fifth,” Blaine rattled off. As Kurt’s eyes widened, he immeadiately felt self-conscious. If they thought he had money because of being able to afford Dalton, this was the deal maker.
“You’re, like, right there,” Kurt said.
“Yeah,” Blaine replied.
The taller boy shook his head, his thin scarf barely moving from their place on his shoulders. “You’re so lucky.” Then as if he thought about it, Kurt grimaced. “I mean, being able to live there, even if it’s only for a few months every year.”
“I drove to Dalton yesterday,” Blaine admitted. He watched Kurt arch an eyebrow as they stepped forward. “I was curious. I’m used to the area, but not really if you know what I mean.”
Kurt shook his head again. “The farthest out of Lima I’ve been is a one-time trip to Akron in my sophomore year, and that’s northeast of here.”
They fell silent again before Blaine asked why that was.
“My dad doesn’t really talk to my mom’s family since, well, for a while now, and he got into some argument with his two sisters over how he was raising me. As far as I know, all of my grandparents are dead, and since I’ve rejected all forms of religion, I don’t exactly acknowledge my godparents if I even had them. Until my dad married Finn’s mom back in November, it was just the two of us.” Kurt’s teeth snagged his lower lip, furiously biting at it. After he let it go, Blaine saw that it was still pink and plump as though Kurt hadn’t just mimicked eating it off his face two seconds ago.
“Is your mom-?”
“She’s dead,” Kurt matter-of-factly supplied. He shrugged a shoulder. “I still have memories of her and I’ll get into these . . . funks where I miss her terribly, but for the most part, my dad and I . . . we made it work.”
Blaine felt like Kurt was keeping certain things to himself but kept his mouth shut on it. He just met the kid less than a week prior. He shouldn’t expect him to open up right away.
“Oh look, Lady Lips found himself a boyfriend!” A jock yelled out as he walked by the group. What looked to be on instinct, Finn, Puck, and Sam (if Blaine remembered correctly) formed a barrier around Kurt as the latter boy shrank into Blaine’s side.
“Jealous that your boy toy isn’t around anymore, Azimio?” Puck challenged, throwing a defiant chin in the jock’s direction. Azimio’s cronies just laughed as he frowned. He stalked up to the group, jabbing Puck in the chest.
“You all think you’re so tough, getting my boy Dave put away in juvie, but it still doesn’t deny the fact that Hummel here is a flaming fag.” Kurt whimpered as Azimio tried to see past Finn.
Blaine only remembered these slurs too well. He felt a rush of gratitude to Kurt’s friends as the rest slowly started moving in a protective stance around the group. Without thinking, he grabbed Kurt’s hand and squeezed tightly. He felt relieved when Kurt squeezed back.
“Still doesn’t change the fact that we won’t hesitate to get someone involved if you don’t leave,” Finn said. Blaine could hear the tremor Finn was desperately trying to swallow back. Even if his brotherhood was relatively new, Blaine could tell the extremely tall boy was one of the best that Kurt could ask for.
At this, Azimio seemed to back down. He jerked his head back at the handful of guys behind him. “Fine. We’re gone, Hudson. Happy now?”
It was Puck’s glare that finally sent them running. Nobody calmed down until they watched the car leave the parking lot.
“Oh God,” Kurt breathed, slumping against the shoulder he was leaning on. Blaine still kept his hand in Kurt’s and tried extremely hard to not only control his breathing but his impulse to put his arms around the boy, even in just a platonic manner. Missy’s hugs had done wonders for him when he was home and the teasing was just getting to be too much.
“I’m so sorry,” Blaine whispered. Kurt lifted his head and must have seen something in Blaine’s expression because he tried on a small, sorrowful smile.
“It doesn’t get easier, does it?”
They’d been given space as people backed away, Finn warily eyeing the pair.
“No, but you learn to deal with it better.” Blaine chuckled lightly. “At least they stop throwing you in Dumpsters and lockers and doors and anything that stands up, basically, when you get older.”
The thank you hung in the air around them as Rachel quietly took care of their bowling shoes.
~*~*~*~*~*~
“How do you just roll it down and get a strike?” Finn asked loudly an hour later. Blaine turned from where he’d had his head tilted as he scored his fifth straight strike.
“A master never reveals his secret. You have three strikes, though.”
“And two spares. I don’t match up to you.”
Blaine came up to just below Finn’s collarbone. “It’s okay. Everyone needs to lose everyone once in a while.” He grabbed his Diet Coke from Kurt’s outstretched hand. “Just watch. My seventh frame is going to be a spare.”
“It’s good to seem him knocked down a few pegs,” Kurt said, resting his chin in his hand as Santana went up with Brittany to have a go at the latter girl’s turn. Santana’s promise of “sweet lady kisses later” was what Blaine assumed kept the blonde from crying every time she bowled a gutter.
“Oh really?” Blaine asked. He picked at the basket of lukewarm fries that sat on the table.
Kurt turned to face Blaine behind him, nodding. “He’s here at least twice a week. Stress relief or something like that. I told my dad to calm down about the amount of money Finn was spending because it’s at least not on drugs or alcohol or condoms.”
“Nice,” Blaine intoned.
“Phone,” Kurt demanded. Blaine handed over his phone, trying to stay on top of Kurt’s ability to effortlessly switch trains of thought. Kurt handed back the phone a few minutes later, pulling out his own and tapping a few numbers in. “I put my number and email in there for you. In case you, y’know, need to talk or anything.”
The incident earlier silently hung between them.
“Thanks.”
Kurt shrugged. “I know you’re not having issues anymore from bullies, but sometimes the thoughts, they eat you up and . . . it’s good to know that you have someone there. And I stole your number off your SIM card info, so the sentiment is returned.”
“Creepy,” Blaine teased, sticking his tongue out. He vainly tried not staring at Kurt as his fingers pulled at the tab of yet another Diet Coke can. Was this boy beautiful at everything he did?
“Seriously, though, thanks,” Blaine continued. “And I know you said it, but definitely get in touch with me if you need to talk. I didn’t have that.”
Their silent conversation finished between them and he could see Kurt visibly relax into his chair.
Soon Quinn had replaced Kurt who had been called up by Sam for his turn. Blaine was suddenly thankful that he’d forced himself to talk to everyone at Mercedes’ house.
“I like you, Blaine. A lot,” Quinn started. She was focused on Rachel and Kurt high-fiving, both smiling and laughing. “And I will admit that for the longest time, I haven’t seen Kurt this light, if you know what I mean.”
“I feel like there’s something else here,” Blaine said.
“Kurt hasn’t had it easy. His dad’s got heart issues that nearly cost him his life last October. He’s crushed hard on Finn, only to find out that not only was he very straight, but also a shred bit homophobic until his dad found out, something New Directions found out after the dust settled by emotions were still running high between them. He had this one jock who felt it was his personal mission to make life worse than a living Hell for Kurt. The bully went too far one day, and with the number of witnesses, he was taken out of McKinley. Only Kurt knows what happened to the bully out of all of us.”
Despite the horrors Quinn was laying out for Blaine, her soft, steady voice oddly put him at ease.
“He was talking about you this morning. Not much since he doesn’t really talk unless he gets really passionate or emotional about something, but he was excited to see you. He’s aware that the two of you just met, but he considers you a friend already.” Quinn turned around from watching Kurt, Rachel, and Tina get into a loud and animated conversation to fix Blaine with a very serious look. “He doesn’t just let people in. I’m pretty sure that none of us here know the full extent of who Kurt Hummel is. He’s got a temper but underneath it, he’s a sweet kid. He’s the only out kid at McKinley.”
Blaine continued returning Quinn’s gaze with full confidence.
“I think it’s wonderful that he’s found another guy who’s out and most definitely proud about it. It’ll do wonders for him in general.”
“Not that I don’t fully appreciate all of this knowledge on Kurt, but why are you telling me all of this, Quinn?” Blaine lightly rubbed his foot against the bandage on his left leg, his own problems feeling both monumental and vastly insignificant next to Kurt’s own baggage.
Her smile was sad and excited and rueful and whimsical all at once. “Because I have this feeling that you’re going to become really important to him. Even if you two never develop feelings for each other past close friends, you’re going to be somebody special to Kurt. I just don’t want him to get hurt.”
“So you figured warning me, protective-older-brother-meets-boyfriend style, would accomplish this?” Blaine asked, genuinely curious.
Quinn nodded.
“Then consider mission accomplished,” Blaine replied. Her smile turned sweet and she gestured for a hug.
Damn were these people extremely touchy-feely. Blaine wasn’t used to it at all.
“Glad to see you’re being civil to the new kid,” Kurt wryly noted as the two pulled away.
“Hey! You’re doing better than Brittany!” Quinn said in an effort to change the subject.
“It’s also your turn,” Kurt replied.
“Thank you, Kurt.” Quinn stood, giving Blaine a huge, friendly wink. “Nice talking to you, Blaine.”
“I’ll keep what you said in mind,” Blaine said.
Kurt just looked at the shorter boy with intrigue. “Care to share?”
“Nothing you’d be interested to hear. Just basic getting-to-know-you stuff.” Blaine shook his head. No way was he telling Kurt what Quinn had shared with him. Maybe one day later, when they were closer as Quinn had predicted. Now was not a good time, so early in their friendship.
“Alright.” And the two fell silent.
Blaine was thankful for this. He let his thoughts drown out the obnoxious clatter of balls hitting treated wood and balls meeting pins to knock them down. Kurt was angled towards the rest of the group but was still faced enough towards Blaine that he didn’t feel left out.
Kurt seemed like a fragile kid, whether or not Blaine could confidently say that. Now that Quinn had told him a bit more about Kurt - the girl was more perceptive than Blaine originally took her for - he could see it in his posture, they way he hugged himself around his torso, as if he were trying to keep himself together. Dealing with a bully who’d been expelled from school because of his harassment, nearly loosing your only living parent, and just truly being the only kid like yourself? Blaine was mildly surprised there was nothing wrong with Kurt.
That was a lie and Blaine knew it. Emotionally, there was a lot wrong with Kurt. On Friday, Artie had made an off-hand comment about Kurt not throwing as many diva- and bitch-fits since the group won Regionals; Kurt’s withering glare had sent the comment running for death. Quinn had mentioned he had a temper and implied that it could easily be set off.
He was lonely.
It hit Blaine like a ton of bricks. Somewhere in digging out from underneath them that whatever he and Kurt turned into - friends, boyfriends, casual acquaintences - he’d make sure that Kurt knew he’d always be there for him. Blaine was lucky enough to have had Missy, but somebody else male and more importantly gay was much more comforting.
Once again, Blaine’s thoughts travelled back to the scars hidden underneath the layers of denim and gauze away from the eyes of everyone else. He normally didn’t think about his cutting or why he did it, but he felt guilty about it.
Blaine wasn’t sure wether he should feel comforted or frightened by the fact that Kurt, a boy he’d just met, was already changing his way of thinking about himself.
Title: Remember That Summer (2/?)
Rating: R
Spoilers (if any): Up to the latest episode
Warnings (if any): AU-ness! Also, detailed cutting.
Word Count: 3,307
Summary: The summer before his senior year, Blaine Anderson's parents decide their best course of action in 'degaying' Blaine is to send him to live with his aunt, uncle, and cousin out in Lima, Ohio. Nobody could have seen how much their plan backfired in a nuclear explosion by the time school rolled around in late August.
Notes: I do not own "Fire and Ice" by Robert Frost in case anyone is wondering. Also, can I haz author tag?
Master List
The following Tuesday, Blaine has a wardrobe crisis.
He’s always prided himself with not being the effeminate type when it comes to his sexuality. His intense love for watching football and ice hockey, his almost insane collection of video games (he knew of very few people who could honestly say they had several versions of Black Ops next to the latest Little Big Planet on their bookshelf), his idol crush on Helena Bonham Carter - they’ve all kept him out of the stereotype of “gay man” that he doesn’t particularly like.
Then again, his obsession over musicals was always a tip-off. And apparently his hair was, too, according to Kurt.
Looking in the mirror of the guest bathroom, Blaine sighed. He’d spent the weekend driving around Lima and the surrounding area to adjust to the roads and get a sense of where he was. He’d even driven down to Dalton just to see what the drive was like, breaking to walk around the eerily silent campus. It was always hushed in a way during the school year; now it just felt empty and lifeless.
But there was Kurt. If Blaine was honest with himself, he’d realize that the soft-spoken boy had more than a dozen times crept into his thoughts over the weekend. When David invited Blaine along to the group’s weekly bowling excursion, the latter had been a little too excited when he agreed.
Fuck it.
His hand reached for the razor next to the cup holding his toothbrush and toothpaste. Almost in relief, his fingers curled tightly around the handle and he blindly reached behind him with his free hand to turn on the shower. Rose and Jack knew he was going out; the sounds of a running shower wouldn’t be odd.
Some say the world will end in fire. Some say in ice.
He kicked the flip flop off his left foot, adjusting the water temperature to as cold as it would go.
From what I’ve tasted of desire
It didn’t even require holding his breath anymore. Now, he watched as he dug the cool metal of the razor into the skin on the side of his leg, where calf meets shin, and dragged it back towards his calf.
I hold those who favor fire.
The pain, excruciating and beautiful and welcomed, was almost instant. Damn his parents, thinking they could turn him straight by sending him to some random town in the middle of the Midwest. Damn them. They were the cause of this.
And, God, did he miss this feeling. It’d been nearly a week since he’d touched this particular razor. He could feel the blood dripping down the back of his leg, the air mixing with the open cuts, stinging and biting, but all the while reminding him of just how alive he was. Not like how he felt around his parents.
But if I had to perish twice, I think I know enough of hate
He wasn’t in any sort of horrid mood, so one cut would do. Just one to get him through the evening. Maybe Kurt, as self-centered and picky about his acquaintences as Mercedes had described him the other night, would talk to him again. He glanced down at the blood as something twisted in his gut. He shoved the feeling away, trying to feel the good out of what he did.
To say that for destruction ice is also great
He stuck his leg under the frigid water, watching the blood run down his foot, over the edge of his toes - wow, did he really need to trim his toenails - and down the drain, erasing the evidence of his destruction. With it went all feeling, the icy water holding more warmth than his emotions.
And would suffice.
He grabbed one of the black towels he used to helping dry the cuts and gingerly pressed it to his skin. He’d been doing this for years, and what little hair his legs grew weirdly sprouted up in the sparing smooth skin between scars. The first aid kit he used was situated between the toilet Blaine now sat on an the bathroom sink. His foot found the edge of the tub, the same edge he’d just rested his previously less-marked-up leg on, and grabbed the antiseptic and a medium-sized piece of gauze before stowing the kit back in its dark corner.
The sting that came with cleaning the cuts didn’t feel nice at all. He bit his lip as he cringed, thankful that he was smart enough to keep the cuts shallow enough that they wouldn’t need stitches. Gauze soon followed with Neosporin slathered on it with gauze tape to keep it in place.
He stood up, testing out the weight on his foot. A little pain shot through his leg as he took a step forward. A little walking and he wouldn’t even need to limp.
Jeans. Definitely jeans, Blaine thought as he returned to his earlier problem. But not skinny or straight-leg. Loose, baggy but not too much.
Damn you Mother.
He settled with a red Henley with the sleeves rolled up past his elbows with a few buttons undone at the top when he was forced to cover up his torso. His feet found his black flip flops before grabbing his keys and wallet and a pair of socks on the way out the door. He yelled to no one in particular that he was going out and was met with Rose shouting back to have fun, stay safe, and be back by at least dawn.
“Blaine!” Mercedes squealed when he slammed his car door shut. Despite his family’s money, all he’d wanted when it came time to by a car was a silver Mazda to which his parents quickly approved. More money for them to blow on ridiculous trips.
It’d admittedly taken some time to find the bowling alley and Blaine noticed he was a good fifteen minutes late.
“Mercedes!” he greeted back as the short girl threw her arms around him.
“You look more excited to see Blaine than me,” David muttered as several people laughed.
Mercedes whacked him on the arm. “I don’t know him as well as you. Alright,” she said, turning to rest of the group - New Directions, Blaine had been told - and clapping her hands, “Time to get our bowl on!”
“If Finn wins again,” Puck warned, a joking tone accompanying his serious look.
“Maybe the hobbit’s got something up his sleeve,” Santana said. “I mean, they are rolled up. Who knows what secrets they’re hiding.”
Blaine felt a flurry of excitement when he ended up next to Kurt in the back of the line.
“So where in Manhattan are you from?” Kurt asked after a few minutes.
“Park and Fifty-fifth,” Blaine rattled off. As Kurt’s eyes widened, he immeadiately felt self-conscious. If they thought he had money because of being able to afford Dalton, this was the deal maker.
“You’re, like, right there,” Kurt said.
“Yeah,” Blaine replied.
The taller boy shook his head, his thin scarf barely moving from their place on his shoulders. “You’re so lucky.” Then as if he thought about it, Kurt grimaced. “I mean, being able to live there, even if it’s only for a few months every year.”
“I drove to Dalton yesterday,” Blaine admitted. He watched Kurt arch an eyebrow as they stepped forward. “I was curious. I’m used to the area, but not really if you know what I mean.”
Kurt shook his head again. “The farthest out of Lima I’ve been is a one-time trip to Akron in my sophomore year, and that’s northeast of here.”
They fell silent again before Blaine asked why that was.
“My dad doesn’t really talk to my mom’s family since, well, for a while now, and he got into some argument with his two sisters over how he was raising me. As far as I know, all of my grandparents are dead, and since I’ve rejected all forms of religion, I don’t exactly acknowledge my godparents if I even had them. Until my dad married Finn’s mom back in November, it was just the two of us.” Kurt’s teeth snagged his lower lip, furiously biting at it. After he let it go, Blaine saw that it was still pink and plump as though Kurt hadn’t just mimicked eating it off his face two seconds ago.
“Is your mom-?”
“She’s dead,” Kurt matter-of-factly supplied. He shrugged a shoulder. “I still have memories of her and I’ll get into these . . . funks where I miss her terribly, but for the most part, my dad and I . . . we made it work.”
Blaine felt like Kurt was keeping certain things to himself but kept his mouth shut on it. He just met the kid less than a week prior. He shouldn’t expect him to open up right away.
“Oh look, Lady Lips found himself a boyfriend!” A jock yelled out as he walked by the group. What looked to be on instinct, Finn, Puck, and Sam (if Blaine remembered correctly) formed a barrier around Kurt as the latter boy shrank into Blaine’s side.
“Jealous that your boy toy isn’t around anymore, Azimio?” Puck challenged, throwing a defiant chin in the jock’s direction. Azimio’s cronies just laughed as he frowned. He stalked up to the group, jabbing Puck in the chest.
“You all think you’re so tough, getting my boy Dave put away in juvie, but it still doesn’t deny the fact that Hummel here is a flaming fag.” Kurt whimpered as Azimio tried to see past Finn.
Blaine only remembered these slurs too well. He felt a rush of gratitude to Kurt’s friends as the rest slowly started moving in a protective stance around the group. Without thinking, he grabbed Kurt’s hand and squeezed tightly. He felt relieved when Kurt squeezed back.
“Still doesn’t change the fact that we won’t hesitate to get someone involved if you don’t leave,” Finn said. Blaine could hear the tremor Finn was desperately trying to swallow back. Even if his brotherhood was relatively new, Blaine could tell the extremely tall boy was one of the best that Kurt could ask for.
At this, Azimio seemed to back down. He jerked his head back at the handful of guys behind him. “Fine. We’re gone, Hudson. Happy now?”
It was Puck’s glare that finally sent them running. Nobody calmed down until they watched the car leave the parking lot.
“Oh God,” Kurt breathed, slumping against the shoulder he was leaning on. Blaine still kept his hand in Kurt’s and tried extremely hard to not only control his breathing but his impulse to put his arms around the boy, even in just a platonic manner. Missy’s hugs had done wonders for him when he was home and the teasing was just getting to be too much.
“I’m so sorry,” Blaine whispered. Kurt lifted his head and must have seen something in Blaine’s expression because he tried on a small, sorrowful smile.
“It doesn’t get easier, does it?”
They’d been given space as people backed away, Finn warily eyeing the pair.
“No, but you learn to deal with it better.” Blaine chuckled lightly. “At least they stop throwing you in Dumpsters and lockers and doors and anything that stands up, basically, when you get older.”
The thank you hung in the air around them as Rachel quietly took care of their bowling shoes.
~*~*~*~*~*~
“How do you just roll it down and get a strike?” Finn asked loudly an hour later. Blaine turned from where he’d had his head tilted as he scored his fifth straight strike.
“A master never reveals his secret. You have three strikes, though.”
“And two spares. I don’t match up to you.”
Blaine came up to just below Finn’s collarbone. “It’s okay. Everyone needs to lose everyone once in a while.” He grabbed his Diet Coke from Kurt’s outstretched hand. “Just watch. My seventh frame is going to be a spare.”
“It’s good to seem him knocked down a few pegs,” Kurt said, resting his chin in his hand as Santana went up with Brittany to have a go at the latter girl’s turn. Santana’s promise of “sweet lady kisses later” was what Blaine assumed kept the blonde from crying every time she bowled a gutter.
“Oh really?” Blaine asked. He picked at the basket of lukewarm fries that sat on the table.
Kurt turned to face Blaine behind him, nodding. “He’s here at least twice a week. Stress relief or something like that. I told my dad to calm down about the amount of money Finn was spending because it’s at least not on drugs or alcohol or condoms.”
“Nice,” Blaine intoned.
“Phone,” Kurt demanded. Blaine handed over his phone, trying to stay on top of Kurt’s ability to effortlessly switch trains of thought. Kurt handed back the phone a few minutes later, pulling out his own and tapping a few numbers in. “I put my number and email in there for you. In case you, y’know, need to talk or anything.”
The incident earlier silently hung between them.
“Thanks.”
Kurt shrugged. “I know you’re not having issues anymore from bullies, but sometimes the thoughts, they eat you up and . . . it’s good to know that you have someone there. And I stole your number off your SIM card info, so the sentiment is returned.”
“Creepy,” Blaine teased, sticking his tongue out. He vainly tried not staring at Kurt as his fingers pulled at the tab of yet another Diet Coke can. Was this boy beautiful at everything he did?
“Seriously, though, thanks,” Blaine continued. “And I know you said it, but definitely get in touch with me if you need to talk. I didn’t have that.”
Their silent conversation finished between them and he could see Kurt visibly relax into his chair.
Soon Quinn had replaced Kurt who had been called up by Sam for his turn. Blaine was suddenly thankful that he’d forced himself to talk to everyone at Mercedes’ house.
“I like you, Blaine. A lot,” Quinn started. She was focused on Rachel and Kurt high-fiving, both smiling and laughing. “And I will admit that for the longest time, I haven’t seen Kurt this light, if you know what I mean.”
“I feel like there’s something else here,” Blaine said.
“Kurt hasn’t had it easy. His dad’s got heart issues that nearly cost him his life last October. He’s crushed hard on Finn, only to find out that not only was he very straight, but also a shred bit homophobic until his dad found out, something New Directions found out after the dust settled by emotions were still running high between them. He had this one jock who felt it was his personal mission to make life worse than a living Hell for Kurt. The bully went too far one day, and with the number of witnesses, he was taken out of McKinley. Only Kurt knows what happened to the bully out of all of us.”
Despite the horrors Quinn was laying out for Blaine, her soft, steady voice oddly put him at ease.
“He was talking about you this morning. Not much since he doesn’t really talk unless he gets really passionate or emotional about something, but he was excited to see you. He’s aware that the two of you just met, but he considers you a friend already.” Quinn turned around from watching Kurt, Rachel, and Tina get into a loud and animated conversation to fix Blaine with a very serious look. “He doesn’t just let people in. I’m pretty sure that none of us here know the full extent of who Kurt Hummel is. He’s got a temper but underneath it, he’s a sweet kid. He’s the only out kid at McKinley.”
Blaine continued returning Quinn’s gaze with full confidence.
“I think it’s wonderful that he’s found another guy who’s out and most definitely proud about it. It’ll do wonders for him in general.”
“Not that I don’t fully appreciate all of this knowledge on Kurt, but why are you telling me all of this, Quinn?” Blaine lightly rubbed his foot against the bandage on his left leg, his own problems feeling both monumental and vastly insignificant next to Kurt’s own baggage.
Her smile was sad and excited and rueful and whimsical all at once. “Because I have this feeling that you’re going to become really important to him. Even if you two never develop feelings for each other past close friends, you’re going to be somebody special to Kurt. I just don’t want him to get hurt.”
“So you figured warning me, protective-older-brother-meets-boyfriend style, would accomplish this?” Blaine asked, genuinely curious.
Quinn nodded.
“Then consider mission accomplished,” Blaine replied. Her smile turned sweet and she gestured for a hug.
Damn were these people extremely touchy-feely. Blaine wasn’t used to it at all.
“Glad to see you’re being civil to the new kid,” Kurt wryly noted as the two pulled away.
“Hey! You’re doing better than Brittany!” Quinn said in an effort to change the subject.
“It’s also your turn,” Kurt replied.
“Thank you, Kurt.” Quinn stood, giving Blaine a huge, friendly wink. “Nice talking to you, Blaine.”
“I’ll keep what you said in mind,” Blaine said.
Kurt just looked at the shorter boy with intrigue. “Care to share?”
“Nothing you’d be interested to hear. Just basic getting-to-know-you stuff.” Blaine shook his head. No way was he telling Kurt what Quinn had shared with him. Maybe one day later, when they were closer as Quinn had predicted. Now was not a good time, so early in their friendship.
“Alright.” And the two fell silent.
Blaine was thankful for this. He let his thoughts drown out the obnoxious clatter of balls hitting treated wood and balls meeting pins to knock them down. Kurt was angled towards the rest of the group but was still faced enough towards Blaine that he didn’t feel left out.
Kurt seemed like a fragile kid, whether or not Blaine could confidently say that. Now that Quinn had told him a bit more about Kurt - the girl was more perceptive than Blaine originally took her for - he could see it in his posture, they way he hugged himself around his torso, as if he were trying to keep himself together. Dealing with a bully who’d been expelled from school because of his harassment, nearly loosing your only living parent, and just truly being the only kid like yourself? Blaine was mildly surprised there was nothing wrong with Kurt.
That was a lie and Blaine knew it. Emotionally, there was a lot wrong with Kurt. On Friday, Artie had made an off-hand comment about Kurt not throwing as many diva- and bitch-fits since the group won Regionals; Kurt’s withering glare had sent the comment running for death. Quinn had mentioned he had a temper and implied that it could easily be set off.
He was lonely.
It hit Blaine like a ton of bricks. Somewhere in digging out from underneath them that whatever he and Kurt turned into - friends, boyfriends, casual acquaintences - he’d make sure that Kurt knew he’d always be there for him. Blaine was lucky enough to have had Missy, but somebody else male and more importantly gay was much more comforting.
Once again, Blaine’s thoughts travelled back to the scars hidden underneath the layers of denim and gauze away from the eyes of everyone else. He normally didn’t think about his cutting or why he did it, but he felt guilty about it.
Blaine wasn’t sure wether he should feel comforted or frightened by the fact that Kurt, a boy he’d just met, was already changing his way of thinking about himself.