Stop Loss: Chapter 26, Part One
In which Blaine has a lot of, sometimes contradictory, feels; parents are actually present on occasion, and the author sends pleas for patience out into the universe.
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Chapter 26/?30. Or, as I've been calling it, The 10,000 Word Emotional Explosion. On a related note, Warnings from chapters 4 & 10 apply here. If you've been fine so far, I'm sure you'll be fine again. If not, message me and I'll tell you which parts to skip.
So…there were a lot of feels after that last chapter, and I had a big, heartfelt paragraph planned to address some of the various responses. But it's almost 1:00am, and I'd like to edit this now so that I can post it tomorrow, so it basically boils down to this: 1.) If you were awesome, thanks for being awesome! 2.) If you were not awesome, please keep in mind that I don't actually dictate canon, nor did I sleep with your mother, so kindly dial it down a notch. 3.) I know the last few chapters have been a bit rocky and messy and unpretty (as life is, on occasion), and that I'm asking you to take an awful lot on faith with the plot twists. All I can say to that, without giving away any spoilers, is that if you're still having trouble by the end of the next chapter, come talk to me. I'm not really…or at all…qualified to provide counsel, but I have vodka.
That was probably longer than the heartfelt version. Disclaimer, etc.
That night, Blaine picked at his chicken and roasted potatoes, ignoring the worried glances his mother kept shooting his way. The meal was one of his favorites, and while objectively he was sure that it was just as delicious as always, his stomach was twisted into knots and everything tasted wrong in his mouth, sapping any desire to eat that he may have otherwise had.
Or not had-Kurt hadn't shown up for rehearsal that afternoon.
If anyone else had noticed his absence, they hadn't said anything. The whole team had been buzzing with excitement between numbers, whispering about Regionals and Jesse and some escalating conflict with the competition (something about eggs and slashed tires that Blaine didn't know, or particularly care, about) with such fervor that Blaine couldn't have gotten a word in edgewise even if he had wanted to. As it had stood then, he hadn't wanted to-most of his energy had been spent trying to watch all of the doors into the auditorium, hoping for a glimpse of Kurt, while dancing and singing and smiling well enough to avoid getting yelled at.
He wasn't sure he'd done a particularly good job, but Shelby, looking almost as distracted as he felt, hadn't called him out on it.
Kurt's Navigator was still in the parking lot when rehearsal finally ended, and Blaine's slightly panicked search of all the bathrooms, closets, and storage rooms near the auditorium came to an abrupt end when it occurred to him to ask the security guards if they'd seen him. They had, as it turned out; Kurt had left nearly two hours before with someone else. Which eased Blaine's worries, at least, that something bad had happened to him, or that he was still somewhere at Carmel, trying and failing to pull himself together after asking Blaine to leave him alone.
However, it didn't do anything for Blaine's increasingly overwhelming guilt-the look on Kurt's face when Blaine explained that he was temporarily breaking up with him was one that he never wanted to see again, much less be the cause of, and the idea that Kurt was so upset that he'd purposely skipped rehearsal (a Kurt Hummel first, as far as he knew) and had had to call his dad or one of his non-Vocal Adrenaline friends to drive him home…
If it had been possible to melt into the floor with shame, Blaine would have done it a thousand times over.
Intellectually, he knew he'd done the right thing. That didn't make the consequences any less painful, though.
"Blaine?"
Blaine's head snapped up, the tines of his fork scraping across his plate with a discordant shriek. Both of his parents were staring at him with concerned looks on their faces, which meant that they'd probably tried to get his attention more than a couple of times already. Great. "What?" he asked calmly, looking back and forth between them, not even sure which parent had said his name.
His father was the one to speak up. "Blaine, is everything all right?" he asked, one hand absently crumpling his napkin. "You seem a little…"
He paused, searching for the right word. "Distracted," he offered finally. Blaine's mother nodded in agreement, watching him a little too closely.
For a moment, Blaine considered telling them the truth-yes, he was distracted; no, everything wasn't all right; and could they please make everything better, like they did when he was little and they could do anything, because he had no idea what he was supposed to do and it sucked.
In the end, he came to his senses. "I'm just tired," he lied instead, "and I think I might be getting sick."
His mother fussed over him for a few minutes, offering crackers and medicine and tea, clearly relieved to have a specific, tangible problem to deal with. His dad didn't look as convinced, but he agreed with Blaine's mother when she suggested that he go upstairs and take a bath, and that maybe he ought to go to bed early. Grateful for the proffered escape, Blaine excused himself from the table, dumping his plate in the sink and fleeing up the stairs and into his room.
With the door closed and locked behind him, Blaine let out a sigh of…not relief, exactly. It wasn't that he didn't want to confess everything to his parents, or that he didn't want their help or comfort-he really, really did. Even though it was impossible for them to fix things between him and Kurt (not to mention that his boyfriend, grandmother, and therapist were the real people responsible for any progress he'd made toward resolving his issues, not them), he still wanted their love and attention; still craved that unique sense of security that came from being hugged by his parents, from being told that things couldn't be as bad as they seemed and that everything would be better in the morning. And things had been getting better between them lately, so much so that Blaine was pretty sure that, if he opened up to them about what was wrong, they'd at least try to be supportive of him.
That was the sentimental part of his mind, however. The rational part of him knew that not only had he not earned their comfort and support-at least, not the kind that he wanted-but that they wouldn't know where to start if he asked them for it. Dumping a relationship, all of the complications between him and Kurt, and a not-so-straightforward breakup on them all at once would not only be unfair of him to do, but it would be overwhelming for them (not to mention a pointblank admission that he'd been lying to them for months, which would definitely be enough to make his mother cry, at least).
Whether he wanted to admit everything to his parents or not, Blaine was on his own.
There was only so much his parents could have done, in any case. It was mostly his own fault (and Kurt's) that he felt as awful as he did-even if his intentions toward Kurt had been good, it was obvious that Blaine had really hurt him.
And Blaine couldn't help but think that, if he had just tried a little bit harder, he could have thought of a better solution.
Laying down on his bed and closing his eyes, Blaine pictured Kurt-not the Kurt from that afternoon, pale and upset and the source of Blaine's anger and hurt, but sweet, savvy, confident Kurt; the one that he knew best and completely adored. What would that Kurt, his Kurt, say if he knew what Blaine was thinking and feeling?
The answer came almost immediately: in his mind's eye, Kurt rolled his eyes at Blaine, smiling. "I can see why you were such a big hit in the musicals at your old school," he informed Blaine, "you're being a little overdramatic right now. Calm down before you hurt yourself, all right? I'm momentarily devastated, but I'll get over it. Go to sleep; stop thinking so hard about everything."
Imaginary Kurt raised an eyebrow. "And maybe do something nice for me tomorrow," he added with a smirk. "Just in case."
Blaine went through the motions of getting ready for bed, feeling a little bit better by the time he switched off his lamp and curled up under the covers. His mind's manifestation of Kurt-for all that it might be his subconscious trying to cheer him up-was right: he was working himself up over, if not nothing, a situation that probably wasn't as bad as he was making it out to be. He hadn't actually talked to Kurt since their scene in the hallway after school, and so he was assuming the worst about how he was feeling. As soon as he saw for himself in the morning that Kurt was fine (or as fine as he could be, given the circumstances), he'd likely be able to tone down the melodrama to a more acceptable level. He could even get up early enough to stop and buy Kurt coffee on the way to school-something that Kurt did for him all the time. It was a favor that Blaine rarely returned, since his drive to Carmel was so much longer, but it would be worth waking up early if it meant that he could do something nice for Kurt, something that would show him that even though they weren't together, Blaine still loved him.
Rolling over and grabbing his phone, Blaine reset his alarm to go off an hour earlier than usual. Instead of dropping it back onto his nightstand, however, he tapped at the buttons, scrolling through the pictures until he found the one he wanted: Kurt, taking a break during one of his many practice sessions for his Academy audition, eyes closed and smile unaffected as he lounged on Blaine's bed. His body looked loose and relaxed, and Blaine couldn't help but smile at how deceptive his appearance had turned out to be-the second Kurt heard the sound of his picture being taken, his eyes had snapped open and he'd flown at Blaine, tackling him in an effort to steal his phone and delete the picture. Blaine had tossed the device out of arm's reach and rolled Kurt back onto his back, kissing him deeply and fiercely until Kurt had forgotten-or at least pretended to forget-about it, and the picture lived on.
Eventually, finally, Blaine was able to fall asleep. The phone remained clutched in his hand, and he didn't dream that night.
Kurt's car was, once again, still in the parking lot when Blaine arrived at school the next morning, coffee and raspberry scone in hand, but Kurt himself was nowhere to be seen. Sasha, whom Blaine flagged down in the hallway between second and third period, hadn't heard from him either.
"He wasn't in English this morning, either," she mentioned offhandedly as she wove her way down the hall, Blaine following close behind. "Which was bad news for our group, since he and I are pretty much the only ones who can string together a sentence at all, let alone before 8:00 in the morning."
When Blaine asked her to call Kurt and check on him, she gave him a weird look, clearly wanting to know why he wasn't doing it himself. He shrugged in response, hoping she'd take his silence as answer enough-he wasn't sure he could, or wanted to, explain that Kurt might not be in the mood to talk to him, of all people.
Sasha's curious expression turned to a frown at his lack of an explanation, but she fished her phone out of her purse anyway, ducking into the girl's bathroom to avoid getting caught by a teacher.
"Straight to voicemail," she reported to Blaine a minute later, pursing her lips at Blaine's slumped shoulders. "I don't know what you did, kiddo, but if I were you, I'd just apologize and get it over with."
She was gone before Blaine could decide whether or not to protest.
Blaine was so distracted during his next class that, after getting hit in the chest twice with the basketball because of his inattention, Coach Daniels benched him for the rest of the period, wondering out loud if he was getting sick. Watching the game, which became markedly more heated in his absence, wasn't enough to occupy him either, though, and Blaine found his thoughts again and again returning to Kurt.
Kurt wasn't the best student in their year by any stretch of the imagination, but he was a good student and he worked hard-a lot harder than the majority of their teammates did. It wasn't like him to skip school, especially on a rehearsal day, when even the students who had stuntmen attending all of their classes had to be at Carmel for over half of the school day in order to participate in the afternoon's extracurriculars. It was possible that Kurt had gotten sick, or that the amount of stress he was under had come to a head, and Mr. Hummel had forced him to take a day off in order to preserve his mental health.
The more Blaine dwelled on it though, the more Sasha's idea, that Kurt had skipped school in order to avoid him, seemed plausible. Until she'd mentioned it, Blaine hadn't even thought about it as a possibility-Kurt might be upset, might not want to talk to him, but he wouldn't purposely miss classes and rehearsal just so he could more easily ignore Blaine.
But then again, Blaine remembered darkly, he hadn't always been right when it came to knowing what Kurt would or wouldn't do.
Even though Blaine was unsettled by the idea that he was almost hoping that Kurt was out of school because he was sick, he took better notes than usual during History-if Kurt was indeed talking to him after the day before, he'd probably want a copy. Class dragged on without Kurt, though, and his absence was especially noticeable when his empty seat was directly in front of Blaine.
Five minutes before the bell was scheduled to ring, Blaine didn't care anymore-at lunch, he was calling Kurt's cell and house phones, and maybe even looking up the phone number for Mr. Hummel's tire shop on the library computers. He'd spend the whole period trying, if he had to, until someone answered and let him know that Kurt was all right. If it turned out that Kurt really was avoiding him…well, he'd deal with that if it came up, but it would be worth it just to know that he could stop fluctuating unpredictably between worry and disappointment. He stared at the clock, willing time to move just a little bit faster.
Mrs. Jennings, who had just wrapped up her lecture for the day, seemed to have other plans. "These are the guidelines for your country projects," she explained, picking up a large stack of packets from her desk and standing up. "The requirements for the five sections I went over yesterday are written down in more detail, and your assigned countries, partners, and final presentation dates are listed on the last page."
She walked along the front of the classroom, passing several copies to the first student in each row to hand back. "You have rest of today's class to look over everything with your partner," she continued. "We'll take fifteen minutes at the start of the period tomorrow to discuss any questions that you might have."
The girl who sat in front of Kurt turned around with the last two packets, and Blaine leaned over his desk, stretching his arm out as far as he could in order to take them.
"Blaine," Mrs. Jennings called over the chatter in the room, before he could even settle back down into his seat, "come up here for a second?"
Startled, Blaine tucked the packets-one for himself, one for Kurt-into his notebook and got up, weaving his way up the aisle (ducking around several students joining their partners and shoving their desks together) to the front of the classroom.
Mrs. Jennings took Blaine's elbow once he reached her desk, gently leading him to the doorway where nobody else could overhear them. "Blaine, I've paired you and Kurt together for the project," she murmured quietly, her face uncharacteristically serious. "I didn't hear about yesterday's events until this morning, but I don't want you to worry; we can certainly make some adjustments in the requirements for you two."
Blaine's mouth didn't fall open in shock, but it was a close call. How was it even possible that people, including the teachers, already knew what had happened between him and Kurt the day before? And since when did student relationships become a factor in what work they were assigned in class? Clearly, working with Kurt on their project was going to be a little more difficult (and emotionally loaded) than it would have been the week before, but Blaine couldn't see how that was anyone else's business but theirs.
Mrs. Jennings was frowning sadly. "Obviously given Mr. Hummel's heart attack, Kurt's going to be missing some school," she continued, ignoring the disbelief that Blaine was sure was still showing on his face, "so you'll be missing your partner for a little while."
Blaine nodded, his incredulity dissipating with the explanation-Mr. Hummel having a heart attack was a much more likely reason to adjust a-
Mrs. Jennings's words suddenly sank in, and Blaine felt the blood draining from his face.
"Is he-I…Kurt," he stammered helplessly, grabbing the doorframe beside him and gripping it tightly-Mrs. Jennings hadn't mentioned whether or not Burt was alive; if Kurt had just lost his only family; if-
"I don't know much more than you do, I'm afraid," Mrs. Jennings told him, glancing at the other students as they continued working noisily, completely oblivious to Blaine's distress. "Kurt's uncle was the one to contact the school, and I'm not sure if he said how long they expected Mr. Hummel to be in the hospital; only that Kurt would be absent for at least the rest of the week. Now, with that in mind…"
Mrs. Jennings kept talking as Blaine sagged against the wall with relief. Mr. Hummel was alive-in the hospital, which was bad enough, but he hadn't died, which would have destroyed Kurt.
Kurt.
"…section one, and we'll adjust the rest of the assignment once we hear from Kurt about how long he's going to be out of school. All right?"
"Okay," Blaine agreed automatically, without having the first clue as to what it was he'd just agreed to. "May I be excused please?"
The drive to Kurt's house seemed to take forever, despite the fact that Blaine was speeding; blowing through yellow lights and barely making a perfunctory pause at every stop sign. He knew that it was dangerous, and that Kurt would be the last person on earth to approve of his reckless driving, but he couldn't bring himself to care-all he could think about was getting to Kurt. He didn't know anything about Mr. Hummel's condition, but if Kurt was missing school for the rest of the week, the news couldn't have been good-and he had let Kurt face the distinct possibility of losing his only family all alone. Whether through the timing of their breakup or, worse, the way that he had initiated their separation and stuck to his guns when Kurt had pleaded with him to change his mind, he'd somehow made Kurt think that he couldn't call Blaine.
That Blaine wouldn't have dropped everything to be there, if Kurt needed him.
Blaine slammed his hand on the steering wheel in frustration, and, after a quick glance in the rearview mirror for any police cars, pressed down a little harder on the gas pedal.
Finally, Blaine was in Kurt's neighborhood, then in Kurt's driveway, parking next to a red car that he didn't recognize. Slamming the car door and not bothering to stop and lock it, he hurried up the walkway to the front porch, trying to think of what to say to Kurt.
If Kurt was even there; it was late enough in the morning that visiting hours had probably already started at both of the local hospitals. Someone's here, though, Blaine's brain acknowledged, and he eyed the unfamiliar car again as he rang the doorbell. Mrs. Jennings had mentioned an uncle, but the concept had barely registered to Blaine at the time, not only because Kurt had never said anything about having an uncle, but also because everything else she had said about Kurt and his family at the time had been so important that brief comments about random relatives had faded in significance. If Kurt did have an uncle, though, and he was home, he could probably tell Blaine where to find Kurt and Mr. Hummel, and Blaine could drive out to-
The front door swung open, and Jesse St. James stepped into the threshold.
The shock that Blaine felt at seeing him there must have shown on his face (again), because after blinking in surprise, Jesse's eyes glittered with amusement. "Good morning to you, too," he offered mildly, reaching up to scratch the back of his neck.
The movement forced his chest forward a couple of inches, drawing Blaine's attention to the fact that the sweater he was wearing was one of Kurt's favorites. Frowning, Blaine looked him up and down. Jesse's slippers and drawstring yoga pants belonged to Kurt as well, and his normally perfect hair was damp from the shower.
Blaine swallowed. Whatever Jesse was doing at Kurt's house, he'd clearly been there a while.
He cleared his throat. "Why are you…" he started to ask, his voice trailing off when Jesse raised an eyebrow, clearly unimpressed at Blaine's inability to figure it out on his own.
"His dad nearly died yesterday," Jesse pointed out, crossing his arms over his chest and leaning against the doorframe. "Would you have left him alone?"
The 'you' was pointed and accusatory, leaving no doubt in Blaine's mind that Jesse knew that he'd halted his relationship with Kurt in the World's Most Inopportunely Timed Breakup, and Blaine felt a fresh wave of shame.
Then he remembered who he was talking to, and straightened back up. "Can I see him?" he asked, keeping his own voice steady and clear and trying to communicate non-verbally, in the same way that Jesse had, that he wasn't going to take no for an answer.
If Jesse noticed, though, he didn't acknowledge it. "He's sleeping," he responded evenly, not frowning at Blaine, but not smiling, either. "Finally," he added. "It took him hours. Every time I thought he'd fallen asleep, he'd jerk awake again. Normally I'd get angry at him for leaving such an enormous bruise on my chest, but under the circumstances, I can't bring myself to hold it against him."
He stroked his chest idly, smiling, before looking back up at Blaine with a hint of challenge in his eyes.
Blaine froze.
The wet hair, the borrowed clothing, the self-satisfied smirk, the personal tone of his description of Kurt-it was all too clear to him what Jesse was implying. And it was all that Blaine could do to keep from punching him in his arrogant, smarmy face. Because if it was a lie, then Jesse was an insensitive jerk who had no business being anywhere near him and Kurt. And if it was true…
Blaine couldn't breathe; couldn't even finish that thought.
The question was caught in his throat, but luckily-or unluckily-Jesse was following his train of thought with interest. "Obviously I slept in his bed last night," he commented, glancing at his fingernails. "How else was I supposed to keep an eye on him? But that's not what you want to know, is it?"
Jesse looked at Blaine again, his expression exactly the same as before, and yet somehow harder, more callous. "But I fail to see how what he does is any of your business," he told Blaine in a cool, disinterested tone. "Didn't you break up with him?"
It was a confirmation without explicitly confirming anything, and Blaine shut down, unable to process the idea of Kurt-his Kurt-with Jesse. "I didn't…" he heard himself answering, before Jesse cut him off.
"I know, it's complicated," he interrupted dryly. "I'll admit, I may have missed some of the details, since Kurt was crying into my shirt when he told me, but I heard enough to know that you would be overstepping if you're about to tell me to stay away from your boyfriend."
He tilted his head at Blaine, perfectly mirroring one of Kurt's gestures-or maybe Kurt had picked it up from him, instead of the other way around. Blaine was going to be sick.
"Go back to school and let him sleep," Jesse insisted. "It's the least you can do for him."
Blaine didn't answer, and slowly, Jesse closed the door.
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Chapter 26/?30. Or, as I've been calling it, The 10,000 Word Emotional Explosion. On a related note, Warnings from chapters 4 & 10 apply here. If you've been fine so far, I'm sure you'll be fine again. If not, message me and I'll tell you which parts to skip.
So…there were a lot of feels after that last chapter, and I had a big, heartfelt paragraph planned to address some of the various responses. But it's almost 1:00am, and I'd like to edit this now so that I can post it tomorrow, so it basically boils down to this: 1.) If you were awesome, thanks for being awesome! 2.) If you were not awesome, please keep in mind that I don't actually dictate canon, nor did I sleep with your mother, so kindly dial it down a notch. 3.) I know the last few chapters have been a bit rocky and messy and unpretty (as life is, on occasion), and that I'm asking you to take an awful lot on faith with the plot twists. All I can say to that, without giving away any spoilers, is that if you're still having trouble by the end of the next chapter, come talk to me. I'm not really…or at all…qualified to provide counsel, but I have vodka.
That was probably longer than the heartfelt version. Disclaimer, etc.
That night, Blaine picked at his chicken and roasted potatoes, ignoring the worried glances his mother kept shooting his way. The meal was one of his favorites, and while objectively he was sure that it was just as delicious as always, his stomach was twisted into knots and everything tasted wrong in his mouth, sapping any desire to eat that he may have otherwise had.
Or not had-Kurt hadn't shown up for rehearsal that afternoon.
If anyone else had noticed his absence, they hadn't said anything. The whole team had been buzzing with excitement between numbers, whispering about Regionals and Jesse and some escalating conflict with the competition (something about eggs and slashed tires that Blaine didn't know, or particularly care, about) with such fervor that Blaine couldn't have gotten a word in edgewise even if he had wanted to. As it had stood then, he hadn't wanted to-most of his energy had been spent trying to watch all of the doors into the auditorium, hoping for a glimpse of Kurt, while dancing and singing and smiling well enough to avoid getting yelled at.
He wasn't sure he'd done a particularly good job, but Shelby, looking almost as distracted as he felt, hadn't called him out on it.
Kurt's Navigator was still in the parking lot when rehearsal finally ended, and Blaine's slightly panicked search of all the bathrooms, closets, and storage rooms near the auditorium came to an abrupt end when it occurred to him to ask the security guards if they'd seen him. They had, as it turned out; Kurt had left nearly two hours before with someone else. Which eased Blaine's worries, at least, that something bad had happened to him, or that he was still somewhere at Carmel, trying and failing to pull himself together after asking Blaine to leave him alone.
However, it didn't do anything for Blaine's increasingly overwhelming guilt-the look on Kurt's face when Blaine explained that he was temporarily breaking up with him was one that he never wanted to see again, much less be the cause of, and the idea that Kurt was so upset that he'd purposely skipped rehearsal (a Kurt Hummel first, as far as he knew) and had had to call his dad or one of his non-Vocal Adrenaline friends to drive him home…
If it had been possible to melt into the floor with shame, Blaine would have done it a thousand times over.
Intellectually, he knew he'd done the right thing. That didn't make the consequences any less painful, though.
"Blaine?"
Blaine's head snapped up, the tines of his fork scraping across his plate with a discordant shriek. Both of his parents were staring at him with concerned looks on their faces, which meant that they'd probably tried to get his attention more than a couple of times already. Great. "What?" he asked calmly, looking back and forth between them, not even sure which parent had said his name.
His father was the one to speak up. "Blaine, is everything all right?" he asked, one hand absently crumpling his napkin. "You seem a little…"
He paused, searching for the right word. "Distracted," he offered finally. Blaine's mother nodded in agreement, watching him a little too closely.
For a moment, Blaine considered telling them the truth-yes, he was distracted; no, everything wasn't all right; and could they please make everything better, like they did when he was little and they could do anything, because he had no idea what he was supposed to do and it sucked.
In the end, he came to his senses. "I'm just tired," he lied instead, "and I think I might be getting sick."
His mother fussed over him for a few minutes, offering crackers and medicine and tea, clearly relieved to have a specific, tangible problem to deal with. His dad didn't look as convinced, but he agreed with Blaine's mother when she suggested that he go upstairs and take a bath, and that maybe he ought to go to bed early. Grateful for the proffered escape, Blaine excused himself from the table, dumping his plate in the sink and fleeing up the stairs and into his room.
With the door closed and locked behind him, Blaine let out a sigh of…not relief, exactly. It wasn't that he didn't want to confess everything to his parents, or that he didn't want their help or comfort-he really, really did. Even though it was impossible for them to fix things between him and Kurt (not to mention that his boyfriend, grandmother, and therapist were the real people responsible for any progress he'd made toward resolving his issues, not them), he still wanted their love and attention; still craved that unique sense of security that came from being hugged by his parents, from being told that things couldn't be as bad as they seemed and that everything would be better in the morning. And things had been getting better between them lately, so much so that Blaine was pretty sure that, if he opened up to them about what was wrong, they'd at least try to be supportive of him.
That was the sentimental part of his mind, however. The rational part of him knew that not only had he not earned their comfort and support-at least, not the kind that he wanted-but that they wouldn't know where to start if he asked them for it. Dumping a relationship, all of the complications between him and Kurt, and a not-so-straightforward breakup on them all at once would not only be unfair of him to do, but it would be overwhelming for them (not to mention a pointblank admission that he'd been lying to them for months, which would definitely be enough to make his mother cry, at least).
Whether he wanted to admit everything to his parents or not, Blaine was on his own.
There was only so much his parents could have done, in any case. It was mostly his own fault (and Kurt's) that he felt as awful as he did-even if his intentions toward Kurt had been good, it was obvious that Blaine had really hurt him.
And Blaine couldn't help but think that, if he had just tried a little bit harder, he could have thought of a better solution.
Laying down on his bed and closing his eyes, Blaine pictured Kurt-not the Kurt from that afternoon, pale and upset and the source of Blaine's anger and hurt, but sweet, savvy, confident Kurt; the one that he knew best and completely adored. What would that Kurt, his Kurt, say if he knew what Blaine was thinking and feeling?
The answer came almost immediately: in his mind's eye, Kurt rolled his eyes at Blaine, smiling. "I can see why you were such a big hit in the musicals at your old school," he informed Blaine, "you're being a little overdramatic right now. Calm down before you hurt yourself, all right? I'm momentarily devastated, but I'll get over it. Go to sleep; stop thinking so hard about everything."
Imaginary Kurt raised an eyebrow. "And maybe do something nice for me tomorrow," he added with a smirk. "Just in case."
Blaine went through the motions of getting ready for bed, feeling a little bit better by the time he switched off his lamp and curled up under the covers. His mind's manifestation of Kurt-for all that it might be his subconscious trying to cheer him up-was right: he was working himself up over, if not nothing, a situation that probably wasn't as bad as he was making it out to be. He hadn't actually talked to Kurt since their scene in the hallway after school, and so he was assuming the worst about how he was feeling. As soon as he saw for himself in the morning that Kurt was fine (or as fine as he could be, given the circumstances), he'd likely be able to tone down the melodrama to a more acceptable level. He could even get up early enough to stop and buy Kurt coffee on the way to school-something that Kurt did for him all the time. It was a favor that Blaine rarely returned, since his drive to Carmel was so much longer, but it would be worth waking up early if it meant that he could do something nice for Kurt, something that would show him that even though they weren't together, Blaine still loved him.
Rolling over and grabbing his phone, Blaine reset his alarm to go off an hour earlier than usual. Instead of dropping it back onto his nightstand, however, he tapped at the buttons, scrolling through the pictures until he found the one he wanted: Kurt, taking a break during one of his many practice sessions for his Academy audition, eyes closed and smile unaffected as he lounged on Blaine's bed. His body looked loose and relaxed, and Blaine couldn't help but smile at how deceptive his appearance had turned out to be-the second Kurt heard the sound of his picture being taken, his eyes had snapped open and he'd flown at Blaine, tackling him in an effort to steal his phone and delete the picture. Blaine had tossed the device out of arm's reach and rolled Kurt back onto his back, kissing him deeply and fiercely until Kurt had forgotten-or at least pretended to forget-about it, and the picture lived on.
Eventually, finally, Blaine was able to fall asleep. The phone remained clutched in his hand, and he didn't dream that night.
Kurt's car was, once again, still in the parking lot when Blaine arrived at school the next morning, coffee and raspberry scone in hand, but Kurt himself was nowhere to be seen. Sasha, whom Blaine flagged down in the hallway between second and third period, hadn't heard from him either.
"He wasn't in English this morning, either," she mentioned offhandedly as she wove her way down the hall, Blaine following close behind. "Which was bad news for our group, since he and I are pretty much the only ones who can string together a sentence at all, let alone before 8:00 in the morning."
When Blaine asked her to call Kurt and check on him, she gave him a weird look, clearly wanting to know why he wasn't doing it himself. He shrugged in response, hoping she'd take his silence as answer enough-he wasn't sure he could, or wanted to, explain that Kurt might not be in the mood to talk to him, of all people.
Sasha's curious expression turned to a frown at his lack of an explanation, but she fished her phone out of her purse anyway, ducking into the girl's bathroom to avoid getting caught by a teacher.
"Straight to voicemail," she reported to Blaine a minute later, pursing her lips at Blaine's slumped shoulders. "I don't know what you did, kiddo, but if I were you, I'd just apologize and get it over with."
She was gone before Blaine could decide whether or not to protest.
Blaine was so distracted during his next class that, after getting hit in the chest twice with the basketball because of his inattention, Coach Daniels benched him for the rest of the period, wondering out loud if he was getting sick. Watching the game, which became markedly more heated in his absence, wasn't enough to occupy him either, though, and Blaine found his thoughts again and again returning to Kurt.
Kurt wasn't the best student in their year by any stretch of the imagination, but he was a good student and he worked hard-a lot harder than the majority of their teammates did. It wasn't like him to skip school, especially on a rehearsal day, when even the students who had stuntmen attending all of their classes had to be at Carmel for over half of the school day in order to participate in the afternoon's extracurriculars. It was possible that Kurt had gotten sick, or that the amount of stress he was under had come to a head, and Mr. Hummel had forced him to take a day off in order to preserve his mental health.
The more Blaine dwelled on it though, the more Sasha's idea, that Kurt had skipped school in order to avoid him, seemed plausible. Until she'd mentioned it, Blaine hadn't even thought about it as a possibility-Kurt might be upset, might not want to talk to him, but he wouldn't purposely miss classes and rehearsal just so he could more easily ignore Blaine.
But then again, Blaine remembered darkly, he hadn't always been right when it came to knowing what Kurt would or wouldn't do.
Even though Blaine was unsettled by the idea that he was almost hoping that Kurt was out of school because he was sick, he took better notes than usual during History-if Kurt was indeed talking to him after the day before, he'd probably want a copy. Class dragged on without Kurt, though, and his absence was especially noticeable when his empty seat was directly in front of Blaine.
Five minutes before the bell was scheduled to ring, Blaine didn't care anymore-at lunch, he was calling Kurt's cell and house phones, and maybe even looking up the phone number for Mr. Hummel's tire shop on the library computers. He'd spend the whole period trying, if he had to, until someone answered and let him know that Kurt was all right. If it turned out that Kurt really was avoiding him…well, he'd deal with that if it came up, but it would be worth it just to know that he could stop fluctuating unpredictably between worry and disappointment. He stared at the clock, willing time to move just a little bit faster.
Mrs. Jennings, who had just wrapped up her lecture for the day, seemed to have other plans. "These are the guidelines for your country projects," she explained, picking up a large stack of packets from her desk and standing up. "The requirements for the five sections I went over yesterday are written down in more detail, and your assigned countries, partners, and final presentation dates are listed on the last page."
She walked along the front of the classroom, passing several copies to the first student in each row to hand back. "You have rest of today's class to look over everything with your partner," she continued. "We'll take fifteen minutes at the start of the period tomorrow to discuss any questions that you might have."
The girl who sat in front of Kurt turned around with the last two packets, and Blaine leaned over his desk, stretching his arm out as far as he could in order to take them.
"Blaine," Mrs. Jennings called over the chatter in the room, before he could even settle back down into his seat, "come up here for a second?"
Startled, Blaine tucked the packets-one for himself, one for Kurt-into his notebook and got up, weaving his way up the aisle (ducking around several students joining their partners and shoving their desks together) to the front of the classroom.
Mrs. Jennings took Blaine's elbow once he reached her desk, gently leading him to the doorway where nobody else could overhear them. "Blaine, I've paired you and Kurt together for the project," she murmured quietly, her face uncharacteristically serious. "I didn't hear about yesterday's events until this morning, but I don't want you to worry; we can certainly make some adjustments in the requirements for you two."
Blaine's mouth didn't fall open in shock, but it was a close call. How was it even possible that people, including the teachers, already knew what had happened between him and Kurt the day before? And since when did student relationships become a factor in what work they were assigned in class? Clearly, working with Kurt on their project was going to be a little more difficult (and emotionally loaded) than it would have been the week before, but Blaine couldn't see how that was anyone else's business but theirs.
Mrs. Jennings was frowning sadly. "Obviously given Mr. Hummel's heart attack, Kurt's going to be missing some school," she continued, ignoring the disbelief that Blaine was sure was still showing on his face, "so you'll be missing your partner for a little while."
Blaine nodded, his incredulity dissipating with the explanation-Mr. Hummel having a heart attack was a much more likely reason to adjust a-
Mrs. Jennings's words suddenly sank in, and Blaine felt the blood draining from his face.
"Is he-I…Kurt," he stammered helplessly, grabbing the doorframe beside him and gripping it tightly-Mrs. Jennings hadn't mentioned whether or not Burt was alive; if Kurt had just lost his only family; if-
"I don't know much more than you do, I'm afraid," Mrs. Jennings told him, glancing at the other students as they continued working noisily, completely oblivious to Blaine's distress. "Kurt's uncle was the one to contact the school, and I'm not sure if he said how long they expected Mr. Hummel to be in the hospital; only that Kurt would be absent for at least the rest of the week. Now, with that in mind…"
Mrs. Jennings kept talking as Blaine sagged against the wall with relief. Mr. Hummel was alive-in the hospital, which was bad enough, but he hadn't died, which would have destroyed Kurt.
Kurt.
"…section one, and we'll adjust the rest of the assignment once we hear from Kurt about how long he's going to be out of school. All right?"
"Okay," Blaine agreed automatically, without having the first clue as to what it was he'd just agreed to. "May I be excused please?"
The drive to Kurt's house seemed to take forever, despite the fact that Blaine was speeding; blowing through yellow lights and barely making a perfunctory pause at every stop sign. He knew that it was dangerous, and that Kurt would be the last person on earth to approve of his reckless driving, but he couldn't bring himself to care-all he could think about was getting to Kurt. He didn't know anything about Mr. Hummel's condition, but if Kurt was missing school for the rest of the week, the news couldn't have been good-and he had let Kurt face the distinct possibility of losing his only family all alone. Whether through the timing of their breakup or, worse, the way that he had initiated their separation and stuck to his guns when Kurt had pleaded with him to change his mind, he'd somehow made Kurt think that he couldn't call Blaine.
That Blaine wouldn't have dropped everything to be there, if Kurt needed him.
Blaine slammed his hand on the steering wheel in frustration, and, after a quick glance in the rearview mirror for any police cars, pressed down a little harder on the gas pedal.
Finally, Blaine was in Kurt's neighborhood, then in Kurt's driveway, parking next to a red car that he didn't recognize. Slamming the car door and not bothering to stop and lock it, he hurried up the walkway to the front porch, trying to think of what to say to Kurt.
If Kurt was even there; it was late enough in the morning that visiting hours had probably already started at both of the local hospitals. Someone's here, though, Blaine's brain acknowledged, and he eyed the unfamiliar car again as he rang the doorbell. Mrs. Jennings had mentioned an uncle, but the concept had barely registered to Blaine at the time, not only because Kurt had never said anything about having an uncle, but also because everything else she had said about Kurt and his family at the time had been so important that brief comments about random relatives had faded in significance. If Kurt did have an uncle, though, and he was home, he could probably tell Blaine where to find Kurt and Mr. Hummel, and Blaine could drive out to-
The front door swung open, and Jesse St. James stepped into the threshold.
The shock that Blaine felt at seeing him there must have shown on his face (again), because after blinking in surprise, Jesse's eyes glittered with amusement. "Good morning to you, too," he offered mildly, reaching up to scratch the back of his neck.
The movement forced his chest forward a couple of inches, drawing Blaine's attention to the fact that the sweater he was wearing was one of Kurt's favorites. Frowning, Blaine looked him up and down. Jesse's slippers and drawstring yoga pants belonged to Kurt as well, and his normally perfect hair was damp from the shower.
Blaine swallowed. Whatever Jesse was doing at Kurt's house, he'd clearly been there a while.
He cleared his throat. "Why are you…" he started to ask, his voice trailing off when Jesse raised an eyebrow, clearly unimpressed at Blaine's inability to figure it out on his own.
"His dad nearly died yesterday," Jesse pointed out, crossing his arms over his chest and leaning against the doorframe. "Would you have left him alone?"
The 'you' was pointed and accusatory, leaving no doubt in Blaine's mind that Jesse knew that he'd halted his relationship with Kurt in the World's Most Inopportunely Timed Breakup, and Blaine felt a fresh wave of shame.
Then he remembered who he was talking to, and straightened back up. "Can I see him?" he asked, keeping his own voice steady and clear and trying to communicate non-verbally, in the same way that Jesse had, that he wasn't going to take no for an answer.
If Jesse noticed, though, he didn't acknowledge it. "He's sleeping," he responded evenly, not frowning at Blaine, but not smiling, either. "Finally," he added. "It took him hours. Every time I thought he'd fallen asleep, he'd jerk awake again. Normally I'd get angry at him for leaving such an enormous bruise on my chest, but under the circumstances, I can't bring myself to hold it against him."
He stroked his chest idly, smiling, before looking back up at Blaine with a hint of challenge in his eyes.
Blaine froze.
The wet hair, the borrowed clothing, the self-satisfied smirk, the personal tone of his description of Kurt-it was all too clear to him what Jesse was implying. And it was all that Blaine could do to keep from punching him in his arrogant, smarmy face. Because if it was a lie, then Jesse was an insensitive jerk who had no business being anywhere near him and Kurt. And if it was true…
Blaine couldn't breathe; couldn't even finish that thought.
The question was caught in his throat, but luckily-or unluckily-Jesse was following his train of thought with interest. "Obviously I slept in his bed last night," he commented, glancing at his fingernails. "How else was I supposed to keep an eye on him? But that's not what you want to know, is it?"
Jesse looked at Blaine again, his expression exactly the same as before, and yet somehow harder, more callous. "But I fail to see how what he does is any of your business," he told Blaine in a cool, disinterested tone. "Didn't you break up with him?"
It was a confirmation without explicitly confirming anything, and Blaine shut down, unable to process the idea of Kurt-his Kurt-with Jesse. "I didn't…" he heard himself answering, before Jesse cut him off.
"I know, it's complicated," he interrupted dryly. "I'll admit, I may have missed some of the details, since Kurt was crying into my shirt when he told me, but I heard enough to know that you would be overstepping if you're about to tell me to stay away from your boyfriend."
He tilted his head at Blaine, perfectly mirroring one of Kurt's gestures-or maybe Kurt had picked it up from him, instead of the other way around. Blaine was going to be sick.
"Go back to school and let him sleep," Jesse insisted. "It's the least you can do for him."
Blaine didn't answer, and slowly, Jesse closed the door.