Fic: Moving Forward - Part 1, Relapse
Title: Moving Forward (Part 1, Relapse)
Series: Aftermath
Rating: R (see warnings)
Warnings: depression, discussion/mentions of self-harm
Author's Note: It's (finally) here - part 1 of the next installment of the Aftermath series. There are 5 sections to this story, and the first two are long enough that they could be fics of their own, but I've decided to treat them as chapters of one story instead. All 5 sections are written, and I'll post one each day, with the last one being posted on Thursday before Glee airs :)
Links to the other installments can be found in the author's note for the third fic here
Kurt's right.
It isn't easy.
They doze off on the couch, arms and legs tangled so they can fit somewhat comfortably.
The ring is on the third finger of Blaine's right hand, and it catches in the light when Burt and Carole come home and the glow from the porch light falls over them.
Kurt's brow wrinkles, and he mumbles in his sleep, arms winding tighter around Blaine's torso.
Carole shushes her husband before he can speak, shrugging out of her coat and handing it to him, then slipping out of her boots and crossing into the living room.
She brushes Kurt's hair away from his forehead and gives him a little shake.
"Kurt," she whispers. "You need to go to bed, sweetheart."
Kurt groans, his body twisting on the couch, and he buries his face in Blaine's hair, sighing softly.
Carole smiles and shakes him again. "C'mon," she says quietly. "Wake up a bit and go up to bed."
Kurt peaks open one eye.
"Carole?" he murmurs. "What time is it?"
"Bedtime," she says, smiling gently. "Come on, let's wake up Blaine so you guys can sleep in a bed. You'll have a terrible crick in your neck if you stay down here."
" 'Kay," Kurt whispers.
Carole runs her fingers through his hair, then turns and leaves the room.
Once she's gone, Kurt closes his eyes again. His hands slowly move up and down Blaine's sides.
"Wake up, sweetheart," he whispers into Blaine's ear. "We need to go to bed, and I'm too tired to carry you."
Blaine whimpers, his hands fisting in Kurt's shirt, and Kurt has to fight back the urge to wind his fingers through Blaine's hair and soothe him back to sleep.
"C'mon," he says softly, shifting underneath Blaine. "Up."
Blaine groans, opens his eyes for a moment, and says, "No."
His lips pull into a pout, and Kurt tugs him up, kissing Blaine's full lower lip and whispering "Yes."
Blaine sighs heavily and pushes himself up, shifting both feet to the flower and levering himself into an upright position. He sways on his feet, and Kurt pushes himself up, sitting on the edge of the couch and wrapping his arms around Blaine's waist, holding him steady.
Kurt rises as well, taking Blaine's hand in his, and leads the way upstairs.
In his room, Kurt tugs a set of pajamas from his dresser and hands them to Blaine, who immediately peels his sweater over his head and slides the sleeves of the pajama shirt up his arms.
Kurt leaves the room, going across the hall to brush his teeth and get ready for bed properly.
When he returns, Blaine is curled up in bed, covers pulled up to his chin and back to Kurt.
Kurt slides in behind him, wraps his arm around Blaine's waist, and quickly falls asleep.
Morning brings conversations.
About expectations and the reality of their relationship.
They both know the distance is still there with the potential to drive a wedge between them, to send Blaine spiraling and to break both their hearts.
They pick Tuesday and Thursday as "date nights." Kurt will call Blaine on Tuesdays, and Blaine will call Kurt on Thursdays.
They'll play weekends by ear, at least for now, unless one of them feels two calls each week isn't enough, and then they'll make time each Saturday, too.
Kurt all but orders Blaine to spend spring break with him, and Blaine blinks rapidly, fighting back tears.
Kurt pulls him into his arms, holds him tight, and whispers "It's not going to be easy, but we can do it."
Four weeks later
Today is terrible.
Shelly called to cancel his therapy session, offering her sincerest apologies and telling him to come tomorrow. She's recovering from the stomach flu and doesn't want to get him sick.
He really needs to talk to her today, but he swallows hard and wishes her well.
He drops his phone into his pocket and heads for home.
His father is waiting in the dining room when he arrives, and he calls Blaine's name as he begins to head upstairs.
Blaine sighs and toes off his shoes, then heads into the room.
His eyes widen when he sees the papers in front of his father.
They're copies of the college applications he filled out and sent in.
The one his father is focusing on, though, is the one for NYU.
"I didn't know you were considering any schools in New York," he says quietly, flipping through the pages of the application. "I thought we'd agreed you would stay close to home?"
He raises his eyes to meet Blaine's, and Blaine tips his chin up slightly.
"New York was my first choice," Blaine says.
His father's eyebrows rise, disbelief on his face.
"If this," he shakes the papers, then tosses them back onto the table. "If this is because of that...boy-"
"It's not," Blaine interrupts. He's surprised by himself - he never interrupts his father, but he can't deal with this right now. "It's my choice. Kurt doesn't even know I sent in an application."
His father mutters something under his breath, followed by a few words that make Blaine go cold.
"It won't matter if they don't accept you."
Blaine swallows hard and turns away, leaving the room and climbing the stairs.
He locks himself in his room, tries to bury himself in his homework and ignore the darkness hovering inside him.
It presses in, threatening to choke him, until Blaine throws his pen aside and pushes away from the desk.
He leaves the room and goes down the hall to the bathroom, locking the door behind him.
His phone vibrates in his pocket, and he pulls it out, silencing the alarm and setting it on the counter.
He reaches into the medicine cabinet and pulls out the small box that has hidden his razor blades.
He opens it and stares inside, takes out one of the blades and sets it on the counter.
He tucks the box back inside the cabinet and picks up the blade with this thumb and forefinger, rubbing back and forth over the smooth sides.
His phone vibrates again, and he swipes his finger across the screen, silencing it.
His gaze drops back to the blade between his fingers, then to his right wrist.
The scars are fading, slowly, but they're still clearly visible.
Blaine traces a few with his fingers, the edge of the blade bumping against his wrist.
His phone rings, and he jerks his hand away, eyes darting to the screen.
Kurt
Cell
is displayed along the top of the screen, above a picture of the two of them that Kurt insisted on taking before he left. Their faces are pressed together, Kurt's turned toward his just enough for him to press a kiss to his cheek as he snapped the image.
Blaine watches his phone as it rings and vibrates on the countertop, dancing closer to the edge with every passing second.
He catches it just as it's about to fall, his palm hitting the "answer" button on the screen unintentionally.
He stares at the screen, debating for a moment, then brings the phone to his ear.
He's still playing with the razor blade.
"Blaine? Are you there?"
Blaine bites his lip and doesn't say anything.
He can barely hear over the voice in his head, telling him to hang up, that this doesn't matter, that Kurt doesn't need to know.
On the other end, hundreds of miles away, Kurt is worried.
They haven't missed a "date night" since they got back together, and this is the first time Blaine hasn't called him by six pm or, at least, sent him a text to let Kurt know he would be calling later.
Kurt's heart is in his throat, his stomach in knots, and he's a little concerned that his own dinner is going to make a second appearance.
"Blaine, honey, where are you?"
Blaine's only response is a muffled sound that might be a sob.
Kurt swallows hard. "Blaine, I want you to go to your bedroom for me, okay?"
There's silence from Blaine's end of the phone.
"Blaine, can you talk to me? Please?"
Kurt hears a ragged breath, followed by a single word, whispered so softly it can barely be heard.
"Kurt," Blaine whispers.
And the tears break loose, pouring down his face too fast for him to wipe them away.
Kurt doesn't try to soothe him, to whisper things like "it's okay" and "I wish I could hold you." He knows these things will only make Blaine feel worse.
Instead, he listens as his boyfriend cries and tries to hold back his own tears.
Blaine cries for what feels like hours, and Kurt is quickly losing his battle against the sting behind his own eyes.
He would call his parents or maybe Blaine's therapist, tell them he needs someone to hold him, if only that didn't require hanging up on Blaine.
Hanging up isn't an option right now, so Kurt waits.
He waits, and he listens.
He's just about to text his dad, asking him to head over to Blaine's house to check on him, when Blaine finally speaks.
"I had a terrible day," Blaine says, voice rough from crying.
He pauses, and Kurt makes a soft sound of acknowledgement, letting Blaine know he's listening.
Blaine inhales, breath stuttering a little, and tells Kurt everything.
When he gets to the last part, relaying his father's reaction to the college applications, he tears up again.
Kurt isn't close to crying anymore, though.
Instead, he's furious, almost blindingly so, and wishing he could knock sense into Mr. Anderson without landing himself in jail.
How can he continually fail to see how much his son is hurting? How his own words just widen the wounds and make him hurt even worse?
Kurt takes a deep breath, trying to calm himself so Blaine won't hear his anger.
Kurt knows Blaine will assume he's angry at him, and that could be disastrous right now.
"Blaine," he says quietly. "Go to your room and pack a bag."
He strides out of his bedroom and pushes Rachel's door open.
His eyes dart around the room until they see her phone, and he crosses to her desk, picking it up and making her jump.
"Kurt, what-"
He swipes at the screen a few times, then puts the phone to her ear.
"Kurt, who are you calling?!" she hisses.
"No, honey, just enough for tonight, and pack your books, too."
He covers the speaker with his hand.
"Tell my parents Blaine is coming over," he whispers.
"Wh-"
"Just do it, Rachel," he says fiercely and stomps out of the room.
Blaine can hear some of this muffled exchange between the two of them, and he swallows hard.
"Kurt, you don't have to-"
"Are you okay to drive?" Kurt asks, and the gentleness is back in his voice. "If you don't think you can, I'll have someone come get you."
"Kurt, really-"
"Don't tell me I don't have to do this," Kurt interrupts, and Blaine thinks he might be fighting back tears. "Don't tell me you don't want someone there with you, someone that cares about you, and if I can't be there, then I DO have to send someone to you-"
He cuts himself off, and Blaine can't hear anything but his ragged breathing.
He swallows hard.
"I'm okay to drive," he says quietly. "I'm packed and leaving right now."
Blaine leaves his house and climbs into his car.
He keeps his phone pressed to his ear as he drives, neither of them saying a single word.
It's enough to know that Kurt is still there, even if he isn't saying anything.
"I'm here," Blaine says quietly when he pulls into the driveway.
He hears Kurt take a breath.
"Okay. Go inside and...and I'll call later."
He sounds like he might start crying.
"I love you."
"Okay," Blaine whispers. "I love you, too."
He ends the call and takes a deep breath, closing his eyes to gather his courage.
In his apartment, Kurt sets his phone on his bed.
He presses a hand to his mouth and blinks rapidly, trying not to cry.
"Kurt?"
Rachel is at his door. When she sees he's no longer on the phone, she enters, stopping a few inches away from him.
"What's going on?"
"I can't tell you," Kurt responds.
Rachel's face falls. "Kurt, I just-"
"I can't tell you," Kurt bursts out, tears sliding down his face.
Rachel swallows hard, then takes a step forward, wrapping her arms around his shoulders.
Kurt rests his head against her chest and lets himself cry.
Several hundred miles away, a boy knocks on a door.
It opens instantly, and he's tugged inside, arms wrapping around him and pulling him close.
The door closes behind him, and a man hugs him from behind, wrapping his arms around him and his wife.
"It's okay," Carole whispers, gently threading her fingers through his hair.
And, in this moment, Blaine believes her.