Let Your Heart Be Light, Kurt/Blaine, PG
Title: Let Your Heart Be Light
Author: skintightsocks
Rating: PG
Pairing: Kurt/Blaine
Word Count: 3,100+
Summary: "It's just a few bruises from getting tossed around at school," Kurt says, hoping Blaine will buy the sugar-coated version. "It's not a big deal."
Spoilers: Up to episode 2x10
Warnings General angst, discussion of bullying and physical abuse.
Author Notes: Yes, the title is from Have Yourself a Merry Little Christmas. We've found ourselves writing way more fic than usual, and as a result our old standards for appropriate titles have gone out of the window. Just be glad we didn't use more Ke$ha lyrics.
Kurt's been at Dalton for exactly two weeks when he finally fucks it up with Blaine. Frankly, he's kind of surprised it didn't happen sooner, but he'd been doing better. He wasn't flinching every time he heard a locker slam shut, and he didn't apologize profusely and brace himself for the punch when he accidentally bumped shoulders with someone in the hall. It had lulled him into a false sense of security. Really, when it came right down to it, it was Blaine's fault. Blaine was touchy, always grabbing Kurt's hand or throwing an arm around him, and Kurt's pretty sure it was equal parts Blaine being Blaine and a concentrated effort to remind Kurt that not every touch had to be bad. It was kind of sweet, but it was also really inconvenient because Blaine had taken to patting him on the back, and his back was... a mess, to put it lightly. Years of dumpster tossing had left him with enough bruises, but Karofsky's constantly escalating locker slamming meant that his back was pretty much one giant mass of bruises, and one long, deep scratch from a broken slat that Kurt was pretty was going to end up scarring.
It hurt all the time, making moving painful and stiff most days, but Kurt's had a lot of practice at playing it off and for the most part it just seems like he has really good posture. Kurt was actually pretty excited about things, because at least now his bruises had a chance to heal without new ones constantly being piled on top, and he'd already noticed a few of the smaller ones fading. He'd gotten careless, deluding himself into thinking he might never have to bring it up. So when Blaine pats him on the back over his A in Chemistry and manages to hit one of the worst, deepest bruises, Kurt's just as confused as Blaine is at first when he hisses and flinches away.
"Kurt?" Blaine asks, his voice worried. "Hey, what's wrong, did I hurt you?"
Kurt laughs, loud and bitter, and says, "No, it's fine. You didn't hurt me, it's nothing." Kurt knows Blaine's not going to let it drop, though, knows that he's fucked up with pretending everything is fine, and all he can do is sigh when Blaine looks at him with wide, worried eyes.
"Kurt, hey," he says, sitting down and motioning at the couch for Kurt to follow. "Come on, talk to me. What's going on? Are you hurt?"
"Oh, just some old sports injuries," Kurt says airily, schooling his face into a grin and not wincing at all when he sits down and his back pulls tightly. "I keep telling you I was on the football team."
"You were the kicker," Blaine says, "and from the video I saw online it involved more choreography than tackling."
"There's video of that?" Kurt asks, his eyes narrowing.
"Kurt," Blaine says, patient but firm. Kurt knows that if anyone understands it's going to be Blaine, and Blaine has been wonderful and kind and it's not like he hasn't already seen Kurt at his worst. Kurt broke down crying in front of him on the first day they met. He knows that he can trust Blaine, it's just that this has been a secret for so long, for years. No one knows - not his dad, not Mercedes, no one.
"It's just a few bruises from getting tossed around at school," Kurt says, hoping Blaine will buy the sugar-coated version. "It's not a big deal."
"It's obviously a big deal if it hurts that bad, Kurt. I barely touched you earlier."
"I'm just a lightweight, is all," Kurt says, grabbing for his bag. "Now come on, I told you I needed help with History."
"Kurt," Blaine says, his voice soft as he touches his fingers to Kurt's knee. "Let me see."
"No," Kurt says, drawing back and curling in around his bag before he realizes what he's doing. "What can you do anyway?" he asks, his voice tight. "They're bruises. They'll heal. I'm guessing that not getting slammed into lockers and tossed into dumpsters on a thrice-daily basis will speed up the healing process anyway, so really, it's fine." Kurt knows he's being kind of an asshole, that Blaine's only trying to help, but Kurt can't-- he just can't. He can't let Blaine see. He can't let anyone see.
"Okay," Blaine says, brushing his fingers over Kurt's knee one last time before he pulls back. He still looks worried, but he takes Kurt's bag from his lap and pulls out Kurt's History book without further comment. "Charlemagne still getting you down?"
-
To Blaine's credit, he doesn't bring it up again over the next few days. What he does do, though, is almost worse. He shadows Kurt as much as he can, sticking close behind him when they walk to and from class, just in case any swinging bags or wayward elbows accidentally bump into him. Kurt knows for a fact that Blaine's fourth period chemistry is at the opposite end of the school from Kurt's English class, but when he tries to bring it up Blaine just smiles wide and bright and says, "Where'd you get that idea?"
Blaine's also taken to sliding his arm around Kurt's shoulders. Well, more than usual, at least, and now he's started slinging it low, so Kurt leans back against his arm instead of the stiff, hard-backed chairs in the rehearsal room and the library. Pretty much anywhere he can get away with it, really. It's really sweet, and it's not like Blaine is intentionally pitying him or trying to make him feel bad about it, but it's just. It's a constant reminder. He had started looking at Blaine as kind of a safe space, for lack of a better word. He didn't have to be anything but himself around Blaine, and it makes Kurt feel sick and sad to think of his bruises as a part of him. They're something that happened to him, is all, something he tries to forget, and having to acknowledge them all the time is starting to weigh on him.
Kurt hasn't exactly been avoiding Blaine, if only because Blaine's been making that pretty much impossible, but he does consider turning Blaine down when Blaine offers to help him with his French essay in the common room. French is Kurt's best subject, and Blaine knows it, but Blaine's eyes are big and hopeful and Kurt can't bring himself to say no. At least the couch in the common room is soft and the majority of the student body is in the dining hall taking advantage of the monthly sundae bar, so even if Blaine does make a big deal about Kurt's bruises there won't be anyone around to see. Besides, whenever they study French together it usually just devolves into Blaine telling Kurt about spending summers in Paris and making promises about taking Kurt along sometime that Kurt tries very, very hard not to let himself believe.
"Bonjour!" Kurt says grandly as he tosses his bag onto the end of the couch and tries to sink down as naturally as possible next to Blaine on the couch.
"Hey," Blaine says, smiling at Kurt in that warm way he has that makes Kurt's stomach feel like it's turning on end. "How were your classes?"
"Same old, same old," Kurt says, making sure to keep his voice light. Kurt's classes have mostly been making him feel like he'd been living a lie. Apparently being smart at McKinley translated to being very, very average at Dalton, and Kurt's been scrabbling for B's and preparing himself for an illustrious career as the oil change specialist at Hummel Tires and Lube. He twists to the side to grab his French book and his binder, and when he sits back he ends up trapping Blaine's hand where he'd been settling one of the throw cushions behind the small of Kurt's back.
"Um," Blaine says.
"Blaine, seriously, can we not?" Kurt asks, sighing. "It's a leather couch for goodness sake, it's designed to be comfortable."
"You could always be more comfortable?" Blaine tries, smiling nervously.
"Or I could keep doing exactly what I've been doing for years now," Kurt says, his voice tight. Blaine pulls his hand back slowly, his eyes wide, and Kurt feels horrible, his stomach twisting up into knots, but it's like now that he's started he just can't stop. "I got along fine for years without you, Blaine," he snaps. "I don't want to think about it all the time. It's not that bad, and I've sure as hell had worse, and I'd just like to ignore it until it goes away instead of spending every damn day reminded of how weak I am, okay?"
Kurt's not yelling by the end of it, but he is speaking much louder than usual, his voice sharp, and Blaine flinches back, his face twisted. Kurt drops his head, his eyes stinging, and waits for Blaine to leave, but Blaine doesn't. He just sits beside Kurt, quiet and steady and frustratingly patient. "Shit," Kurt mutters to himself after a minute or two of the tense silence. He rubs at his temples and groans, finally bringing himself to meet Blaine's eyes.
"Blaine, I'm sorry, you've been pretty much the nicest person in the world to me and I didn't mean to yell, it's just--" Kurt cuts off, not sure how to finish, but Blaine just smiles softly at him and grabs Kurt's hand, stroking his fingers over Kurt's wrist and the back of his hand for a second before getting to his feet and pulling Kurt up after him.
"C'mon," he says. "I've got my room to myself for the next few days, you need a break from schoolwork, and I've been wanting to test out how well I've been doing in Kurt Hummel 101, anyway."
Kurt smiles thinly, his eyes a little watery. When he opens his mouth to say something Blaine just holds his finger up to Kurt's lips, pressing it there for just a second, the pad of his finger barely brushing Kurt's lip as he pulls it away. "No thanks necessary," Blaine says, swinging Kurt's bag over his own shoulder and grabbing Kurt's books. "Now, follow me."
-
They're not even past the opening credits of Meet Me In St. Louis when Kurt starts to fidget. The beds in Dalton are nicer than Kurt had imagined dorm beds to be, but they're still wedged into the corners of the rooms, meaning he either had to sit against the wall or beside Blaine with his back against the headboard. The headboard had seemed like a better idea at the time, but even though they're leaning against pillows there's still a ridge that's digging into one of the deepest bruises on the small of Kurt's back, and it's starting to throb.
Kurt tries to be subtle about shifting back against the pillow, trying to find a position that's less painful, but it's hard for Blaine not to notice when they're sitting so close their thighs are almost touching.
Blaine brushes his fingers over Kurt's hand as a small warning before linking their fingers together and squeezing. "Can I give you my pillow? Or just," Blaine continues quickly, and Kurt feels the residual guilt for snapping at Blaine twist in his stomach. "You could lay down, if you want. On your stomach."
"Yeah, that sounds good," Kurt says, squeezing Blaine's hand back before letting go and tossing his pillow to the foot of the bed. Kurt stretches out on his stomach, trying to get as comfortable as he can when he's still in his uniform pants and un-tucked button-down shirt, but he freezes when he hears Blaine hiss.
"Kurt," Blaine says softly, questioning, and Kurt has a pretty good idea what Blaine's seeing when he feels the cool air of the room on his lower back, where his shirt must have ridden up. Kurt doesn't answer, just squeezing his eyes shut when Blaine's fingers brush lightly over the skin. "Oh, Kurt," Blaine repeats, sounding unmistakably upset now. The touch isn't enough to hurt, it's barely firm enough to feel, but Kurt winces when he imagines how ugly his back looks - the darker, angrier bruises on top of the paler fading ones, all unpleasant shades of purple and blue and yellow.
Kurt stays still, afraid to move and not really looking forward to seeing the disgusted, pitying look Blaine must have on his face right about now. "It's- it's not that bad," Kurt says, biting his lip when Blaine pushes a little at Kurt's shirt, just revealing more of his back, more of the ugly bruises. Kurt wonders if Blaine will still want to be close to him after this, if he'll look at Kurt with anything other than pity ever again. It was bad enough that Blaine knew. Now that he's seen-- Kurt squeezes his eyes shut tighter, trying to ignore the sick feeling in his stomach. It had been nice, was all. Having someone who didn't treat him like he was so different all the time.
Blaine's fingers stroke softly over the small of Kurt's back, and his voice sounds thick when he says, "Some of these look so old, Kurt. How long has this--"
"Pretty much forever," Kurt says shortly, his voice only wavering a little bit. "Those are the worst. Apparently when you keep getting bruises on top of bruises for years straight it takes forever for them to go away."
"Couldn't you tell anyone?" Blaine asks, his voice sounding small and almost scared. "Is that a stupid question?"
"You know how it is," Kurt says, curling his hands into fists so he can focus on the sting of his nails biting into his palm instead of the way his eyes are burning.
"No, I don't," Blaine says softly. "Not like this." Blaine doesn't say anything else, but he keeps petting at the small of Kurt's back, his fingers trailing under the edge of Kurt's shirt.
"No one's ever seen them before," Kurt says, not entirely sure why. It just feels like something Blaine should know. "I know it's-- they're so ugly. I was hoping they'd heal faster now that I'm not-- now that I'm not getting new ones." Blaine's quiet, but Kurt feels him shift on the bed, scooting closer until Kurt feels the mattress dip near his thighs.
"Can I?" Blaine asks, his hands still stroking softly under Kurt's shirt. He doesn't push it up yet, though, not until Kurt nods wordlessly. His hands are gentle, skimming lightly up Kurt's sides as he pushes Kurt's uniform shirt up, and Kurt shivers. He's not sure if it's because of Blaine touching him or the cold air in the room. Blaine doesn't say anything else for a long time, his fingers softly moving over the bruised skin of Kurt's back. It's never enough pressure to hurt, even though it tickles sometimes when the pads of Blaine's fingers skim lightly enough over his skin.
"Sorry it's so gross," Kurt says nervously when Blaine traces the path of the ragged cut on his back. "You don't have to-- I mean. I know I look like some kind of ugly swamp monster. That shade of yellow just does not work with my complexion." His voice is shaking nervously by the time he finishes, and Kurt has to bite into his lip so he won't say anything else even more stupid.
"Shh," Blaine says, and at some point he must have started to lean over Kurt's back, because Kurt feels Blaine's breath ghost over the skin between his shoulders. "You're not ugly," Blaine says softly, so quietly Kurt can barely hear it. "He is. They are. The people who did this."
Kurt takes in a shaky breath, feeling stupid and overwhelmed and relieved, so relieved that Blaine's seen them - seen him - and he's still here, still touching him. Kurt can feel the tell-tale stinging in his eyes despite how hard he's trying to hold back from crying, and as he scrubs the back of his hand over his eyes he almost misses the light, careful touch of Blaine's lips on his back, pressing a soft kiss to one of the bruises there. The touch doesn't feel that different from Blaine's fingers except for how it does, how it makes Kurt's stomach flip in a nervous way. Both of them freeze up, then, but Blaine moves first, clearing his throat and sitting back up. Kurt instantly misses the heat from his body so close to Kurt's back. Kurt braces himself for the worst, but Blaine just laughs nervously.
"Figured it wouldn't hurt to. Try. Try to kiss it better, you know," Blaine mumbles stupidly, and Kurt doesn't even care that he's blushing and his eyes are still a little wet and his shirt is pushed up to his chest. He just sits up and turns around to look at Blaine.
Blaine's eyes go wide and guilty, and it would be funny in any other situation, probably. "Shit, Kurt, I'm sorry. I'm so sorry, that was out of line, I shouldn't have--"
Kurt's not really thinking, just reacting to the totally insane things his brain is screaming at him, so he leans forward and kisses Blaine softly on the cheek. He pulls back and lets himself grin just a little bit at the look of surprise on Blaine's face before tilting his head onto Blaine's shoulder, letting out a shaky breath and trying not to think about how he just kissed Blaine. Sort of. Blaine reaches behind Kurt and tugs his shirt back into place before wrapping his arm carefully around Kurt's waist and tipping them both back against the pillow at the head of Blaine's bed.
"This okay?" Blaine asks quietly.
"Yeah," Kurt says, settling himself in against Blaine's chest. He closes his eyes and breathes in deep, letting it out a little shakily, and Blaine tilts his head down so his cheek is resting against Kurt's head. He feels Blaine's head tilt and then there's a soft, light pressure against the top of his head, and he's pretty sure Blaine just kissed his hair. He's silently instructing himself not to freak out about it when he feels Blaine's fingers nudging at the hem of his shirt again.
"Okay?" Blaine asks.
Kurt nods, sighing a little against Blaine's chest when Blaine's hand settles soft and warm over the small of his back. Blaine's not stroking anymore, just keeping his hand there, a warm weight that actually feels really good and makes Kurt's stomach feel warm and tingly.
"You can't see the movie like this," Blaine points out after a few minutes. Kurt had pretty much entirely forgotten about the movie. He tunes back in and realizes that Judy's already singing Have Yourself A Merry Little Christmas, and he squirms a little closer to Blaine.
"That's okay," Kurt says, hesitantly wrapping his hand around Blaine's shoulder. "I've seen it like fifty times. I can just listen."
Author: skintightsocks
Rating: PG
Pairing: Kurt/Blaine
Word Count: 3,100+
Summary: "It's just a few bruises from getting tossed around at school," Kurt says, hoping Blaine will buy the sugar-coated version. "It's not a big deal."
Spoilers: Up to episode 2x10
Warnings General angst, discussion of bullying and physical abuse.
Author Notes: Yes, the title is from Have Yourself a Merry Little Christmas. We've found ourselves writing way more fic than usual, and as a result our old standards for appropriate titles have gone out of the window. Just be glad we didn't use more Ke$ha lyrics.
Kurt's been at Dalton for exactly two weeks when he finally fucks it up with Blaine. Frankly, he's kind of surprised it didn't happen sooner, but he'd been doing better. He wasn't flinching every time he heard a locker slam shut, and he didn't apologize profusely and brace himself for the punch when he accidentally bumped shoulders with someone in the hall. It had lulled him into a false sense of security. Really, when it came right down to it, it was Blaine's fault. Blaine was touchy, always grabbing Kurt's hand or throwing an arm around him, and Kurt's pretty sure it was equal parts Blaine being Blaine and a concentrated effort to remind Kurt that not every touch had to be bad. It was kind of sweet, but it was also really inconvenient because Blaine had taken to patting him on the back, and his back was... a mess, to put it lightly. Years of dumpster tossing had left him with enough bruises, but Karofsky's constantly escalating locker slamming meant that his back was pretty much one giant mass of bruises, and one long, deep scratch from a broken slat that Kurt was pretty was going to end up scarring.
It hurt all the time, making moving painful and stiff most days, but Kurt's had a lot of practice at playing it off and for the most part it just seems like he has really good posture. Kurt was actually pretty excited about things, because at least now his bruises had a chance to heal without new ones constantly being piled on top, and he'd already noticed a few of the smaller ones fading. He'd gotten careless, deluding himself into thinking he might never have to bring it up. So when Blaine pats him on the back over his A in Chemistry and manages to hit one of the worst, deepest bruises, Kurt's just as confused as Blaine is at first when he hisses and flinches away.
"Kurt?" Blaine asks, his voice worried. "Hey, what's wrong, did I hurt you?"
Kurt laughs, loud and bitter, and says, "No, it's fine. You didn't hurt me, it's nothing." Kurt knows Blaine's not going to let it drop, though, knows that he's fucked up with pretending everything is fine, and all he can do is sigh when Blaine looks at him with wide, worried eyes.
"Kurt, hey," he says, sitting down and motioning at the couch for Kurt to follow. "Come on, talk to me. What's going on? Are you hurt?"
"Oh, just some old sports injuries," Kurt says airily, schooling his face into a grin and not wincing at all when he sits down and his back pulls tightly. "I keep telling you I was on the football team."
"You were the kicker," Blaine says, "and from the video I saw online it involved more choreography than tackling."
"There's video of that?" Kurt asks, his eyes narrowing.
"Kurt," Blaine says, patient but firm. Kurt knows that if anyone understands it's going to be Blaine, and Blaine has been wonderful and kind and it's not like he hasn't already seen Kurt at his worst. Kurt broke down crying in front of him on the first day they met. He knows that he can trust Blaine, it's just that this has been a secret for so long, for years. No one knows - not his dad, not Mercedes, no one.
"It's just a few bruises from getting tossed around at school," Kurt says, hoping Blaine will buy the sugar-coated version. "It's not a big deal."
"It's obviously a big deal if it hurts that bad, Kurt. I barely touched you earlier."
"I'm just a lightweight, is all," Kurt says, grabbing for his bag. "Now come on, I told you I needed help with History."
"Kurt," Blaine says, his voice soft as he touches his fingers to Kurt's knee. "Let me see."
"No," Kurt says, drawing back and curling in around his bag before he realizes what he's doing. "What can you do anyway?" he asks, his voice tight. "They're bruises. They'll heal. I'm guessing that not getting slammed into lockers and tossed into dumpsters on a thrice-daily basis will speed up the healing process anyway, so really, it's fine." Kurt knows he's being kind of an asshole, that Blaine's only trying to help, but Kurt can't-- he just can't. He can't let Blaine see. He can't let anyone see.
"Okay," Blaine says, brushing his fingers over Kurt's knee one last time before he pulls back. He still looks worried, but he takes Kurt's bag from his lap and pulls out Kurt's History book without further comment. "Charlemagne still getting you down?"
-
To Blaine's credit, he doesn't bring it up again over the next few days. What he does do, though, is almost worse. He shadows Kurt as much as he can, sticking close behind him when they walk to and from class, just in case any swinging bags or wayward elbows accidentally bump into him. Kurt knows for a fact that Blaine's fourth period chemistry is at the opposite end of the school from Kurt's English class, but when he tries to bring it up Blaine just smiles wide and bright and says, "Where'd you get that idea?"
Blaine's also taken to sliding his arm around Kurt's shoulders. Well, more than usual, at least, and now he's started slinging it low, so Kurt leans back against his arm instead of the stiff, hard-backed chairs in the rehearsal room and the library. Pretty much anywhere he can get away with it, really. It's really sweet, and it's not like Blaine is intentionally pitying him or trying to make him feel bad about it, but it's just. It's a constant reminder. He had started looking at Blaine as kind of a safe space, for lack of a better word. He didn't have to be anything but himself around Blaine, and it makes Kurt feel sick and sad to think of his bruises as a part of him. They're something that happened to him, is all, something he tries to forget, and having to acknowledge them all the time is starting to weigh on him.
Kurt hasn't exactly been avoiding Blaine, if only because Blaine's been making that pretty much impossible, but he does consider turning Blaine down when Blaine offers to help him with his French essay in the common room. French is Kurt's best subject, and Blaine knows it, but Blaine's eyes are big and hopeful and Kurt can't bring himself to say no. At least the couch in the common room is soft and the majority of the student body is in the dining hall taking advantage of the monthly sundae bar, so even if Blaine does make a big deal about Kurt's bruises there won't be anyone around to see. Besides, whenever they study French together it usually just devolves into Blaine telling Kurt about spending summers in Paris and making promises about taking Kurt along sometime that Kurt tries very, very hard not to let himself believe.
"Bonjour!" Kurt says grandly as he tosses his bag onto the end of the couch and tries to sink down as naturally as possible next to Blaine on the couch.
"Hey," Blaine says, smiling at Kurt in that warm way he has that makes Kurt's stomach feel like it's turning on end. "How were your classes?"
"Same old, same old," Kurt says, making sure to keep his voice light. Kurt's classes have mostly been making him feel like he'd been living a lie. Apparently being smart at McKinley translated to being very, very average at Dalton, and Kurt's been scrabbling for B's and preparing himself for an illustrious career as the oil change specialist at Hummel Tires and Lube. He twists to the side to grab his French book and his binder, and when he sits back he ends up trapping Blaine's hand where he'd been settling one of the throw cushions behind the small of Kurt's back.
"Um," Blaine says.
"Blaine, seriously, can we not?" Kurt asks, sighing. "It's a leather couch for goodness sake, it's designed to be comfortable."
"You could always be more comfortable?" Blaine tries, smiling nervously.
"Or I could keep doing exactly what I've been doing for years now," Kurt says, his voice tight. Blaine pulls his hand back slowly, his eyes wide, and Kurt feels horrible, his stomach twisting up into knots, but it's like now that he's started he just can't stop. "I got along fine for years without you, Blaine," he snaps. "I don't want to think about it all the time. It's not that bad, and I've sure as hell had worse, and I'd just like to ignore it until it goes away instead of spending every damn day reminded of how weak I am, okay?"
Kurt's not yelling by the end of it, but he is speaking much louder than usual, his voice sharp, and Blaine flinches back, his face twisted. Kurt drops his head, his eyes stinging, and waits for Blaine to leave, but Blaine doesn't. He just sits beside Kurt, quiet and steady and frustratingly patient. "Shit," Kurt mutters to himself after a minute or two of the tense silence. He rubs at his temples and groans, finally bringing himself to meet Blaine's eyes.
"Blaine, I'm sorry, you've been pretty much the nicest person in the world to me and I didn't mean to yell, it's just--" Kurt cuts off, not sure how to finish, but Blaine just smiles softly at him and grabs Kurt's hand, stroking his fingers over Kurt's wrist and the back of his hand for a second before getting to his feet and pulling Kurt up after him.
"C'mon," he says. "I've got my room to myself for the next few days, you need a break from schoolwork, and I've been wanting to test out how well I've been doing in Kurt Hummel 101, anyway."
Kurt smiles thinly, his eyes a little watery. When he opens his mouth to say something Blaine just holds his finger up to Kurt's lips, pressing it there for just a second, the pad of his finger barely brushing Kurt's lip as he pulls it away. "No thanks necessary," Blaine says, swinging Kurt's bag over his own shoulder and grabbing Kurt's books. "Now, follow me."
-
They're not even past the opening credits of Meet Me In St. Louis when Kurt starts to fidget. The beds in Dalton are nicer than Kurt had imagined dorm beds to be, but they're still wedged into the corners of the rooms, meaning he either had to sit against the wall or beside Blaine with his back against the headboard. The headboard had seemed like a better idea at the time, but even though they're leaning against pillows there's still a ridge that's digging into one of the deepest bruises on the small of Kurt's back, and it's starting to throb.
Kurt tries to be subtle about shifting back against the pillow, trying to find a position that's less painful, but it's hard for Blaine not to notice when they're sitting so close their thighs are almost touching.
Blaine brushes his fingers over Kurt's hand as a small warning before linking their fingers together and squeezing. "Can I give you my pillow? Or just," Blaine continues quickly, and Kurt feels the residual guilt for snapping at Blaine twist in his stomach. "You could lay down, if you want. On your stomach."
"Yeah, that sounds good," Kurt says, squeezing Blaine's hand back before letting go and tossing his pillow to the foot of the bed. Kurt stretches out on his stomach, trying to get as comfortable as he can when he's still in his uniform pants and un-tucked button-down shirt, but he freezes when he hears Blaine hiss.
"Kurt," Blaine says softly, questioning, and Kurt has a pretty good idea what Blaine's seeing when he feels the cool air of the room on his lower back, where his shirt must have ridden up. Kurt doesn't answer, just squeezing his eyes shut when Blaine's fingers brush lightly over the skin. "Oh, Kurt," Blaine repeats, sounding unmistakably upset now. The touch isn't enough to hurt, it's barely firm enough to feel, but Kurt winces when he imagines how ugly his back looks - the darker, angrier bruises on top of the paler fading ones, all unpleasant shades of purple and blue and yellow.
Kurt stays still, afraid to move and not really looking forward to seeing the disgusted, pitying look Blaine must have on his face right about now. "It's- it's not that bad," Kurt says, biting his lip when Blaine pushes a little at Kurt's shirt, just revealing more of his back, more of the ugly bruises. Kurt wonders if Blaine will still want to be close to him after this, if he'll look at Kurt with anything other than pity ever again. It was bad enough that Blaine knew. Now that he's seen-- Kurt squeezes his eyes shut tighter, trying to ignore the sick feeling in his stomach. It had been nice, was all. Having someone who didn't treat him like he was so different all the time.
Blaine's fingers stroke softly over the small of Kurt's back, and his voice sounds thick when he says, "Some of these look so old, Kurt. How long has this--"
"Pretty much forever," Kurt says shortly, his voice only wavering a little bit. "Those are the worst. Apparently when you keep getting bruises on top of bruises for years straight it takes forever for them to go away."
"Couldn't you tell anyone?" Blaine asks, his voice sounding small and almost scared. "Is that a stupid question?"
"You know how it is," Kurt says, curling his hands into fists so he can focus on the sting of his nails biting into his palm instead of the way his eyes are burning.
"No, I don't," Blaine says softly. "Not like this." Blaine doesn't say anything else, but he keeps petting at the small of Kurt's back, his fingers trailing under the edge of Kurt's shirt.
"No one's ever seen them before," Kurt says, not entirely sure why. It just feels like something Blaine should know. "I know it's-- they're so ugly. I was hoping they'd heal faster now that I'm not-- now that I'm not getting new ones." Blaine's quiet, but Kurt feels him shift on the bed, scooting closer until Kurt feels the mattress dip near his thighs.
"Can I?" Blaine asks, his hands still stroking softly under Kurt's shirt. He doesn't push it up yet, though, not until Kurt nods wordlessly. His hands are gentle, skimming lightly up Kurt's sides as he pushes Kurt's uniform shirt up, and Kurt shivers. He's not sure if it's because of Blaine touching him or the cold air in the room. Blaine doesn't say anything else for a long time, his fingers softly moving over the bruised skin of Kurt's back. It's never enough pressure to hurt, even though it tickles sometimes when the pads of Blaine's fingers skim lightly enough over his skin.
"Sorry it's so gross," Kurt says nervously when Blaine traces the path of the ragged cut on his back. "You don't have to-- I mean. I know I look like some kind of ugly swamp monster. That shade of yellow just does not work with my complexion." His voice is shaking nervously by the time he finishes, and Kurt has to bite into his lip so he won't say anything else even more stupid.
"Shh," Blaine says, and at some point he must have started to lean over Kurt's back, because Kurt feels Blaine's breath ghost over the skin between his shoulders. "You're not ugly," Blaine says softly, so quietly Kurt can barely hear it. "He is. They are. The people who did this."
Kurt takes in a shaky breath, feeling stupid and overwhelmed and relieved, so relieved that Blaine's seen them - seen him - and he's still here, still touching him. Kurt can feel the tell-tale stinging in his eyes despite how hard he's trying to hold back from crying, and as he scrubs the back of his hand over his eyes he almost misses the light, careful touch of Blaine's lips on his back, pressing a soft kiss to one of the bruises there. The touch doesn't feel that different from Blaine's fingers except for how it does, how it makes Kurt's stomach flip in a nervous way. Both of them freeze up, then, but Blaine moves first, clearing his throat and sitting back up. Kurt instantly misses the heat from his body so close to Kurt's back. Kurt braces himself for the worst, but Blaine just laughs nervously.
"Figured it wouldn't hurt to. Try. Try to kiss it better, you know," Blaine mumbles stupidly, and Kurt doesn't even care that he's blushing and his eyes are still a little wet and his shirt is pushed up to his chest. He just sits up and turns around to look at Blaine.
Blaine's eyes go wide and guilty, and it would be funny in any other situation, probably. "Shit, Kurt, I'm sorry. I'm so sorry, that was out of line, I shouldn't have--"
Kurt's not really thinking, just reacting to the totally insane things his brain is screaming at him, so he leans forward and kisses Blaine softly on the cheek. He pulls back and lets himself grin just a little bit at the look of surprise on Blaine's face before tilting his head onto Blaine's shoulder, letting out a shaky breath and trying not to think about how he just kissed Blaine. Sort of. Blaine reaches behind Kurt and tugs his shirt back into place before wrapping his arm carefully around Kurt's waist and tipping them both back against the pillow at the head of Blaine's bed.
"This okay?" Blaine asks quietly.
"Yeah," Kurt says, settling himself in against Blaine's chest. He closes his eyes and breathes in deep, letting it out a little shakily, and Blaine tilts his head down so his cheek is resting against Kurt's head. He feels Blaine's head tilt and then there's a soft, light pressure against the top of his head, and he's pretty sure Blaine just kissed his hair. He's silently instructing himself not to freak out about it when he feels Blaine's fingers nudging at the hem of his shirt again.
"Okay?" Blaine asks.
Kurt nods, sighing a little against Blaine's chest when Blaine's hand settles soft and warm over the small of his back. Blaine's not stroking anymore, just keeping his hand there, a warm weight that actually feels really good and makes Kurt's stomach feel warm and tingly.
"You can't see the movie like this," Blaine points out after a few minutes. Kurt had pretty much entirely forgotten about the movie. He tunes back in and realizes that Judy's already singing Have Yourself A Merry Little Christmas, and he squirms a little closer to Blaine.
"That's okay," Kurt says, hesitantly wrapping his hand around Blaine's shoulder. "I've seen it like fifty times. I can just listen."