Too in Love to Let it Go, Chapter 26
Author: gingerandfair/lavender_love00
Genre: AU/Married!Klaine/future-fic
Rating: NC-17
Word count: 8,800/200,000
Spoilers: none
Chapter summary: In which Blaine turns 30, Burt has some words of advice, Kurt goes to the doctor, and therapy is really fucking hard.
Prologue (LJ/AO3/Tumblr/S&C) - Chapter 1 (LJ/AO3/Tumblr/S&C) - Chapter 2 (LJ/AO3/Tumblr/S&C) - Chapter 3 ( LJ/AO3/Tumblr/S&C) - Chapter 4 ( LJ/AO3/Tumblr/S&C) - Chapter 5 ( LJ/AO3/Tumblr/S&C) - Chapter 6 ( LJ/AO3/Tumblr/S&C) - Chapter 7 ( LJ/AO3/Tumblr/S&C) - Chapter 8 (LJ/AO3/Tumblr/S&C) Chapter 9 (LJ/AO3/Tumblr/S&C) - Chapter 10 (LJ/AO3/Tumblr/S&C) - Chapter 11 ( LJ/AO3/Tumblr/S&C) - Chapter 12 ( LJ/AO3/Tumblr/S&C) - Chapter 13 ( LJ/AO3/Tumblr/S&C) - Chapter 14 ( LJ/AO3/Tumblr/S&C) - Chapter 15 on (LJ/AO3/Tumblr/S&C) - Chapter 16 on ( LJ/AO3/Tumblr/S&C) - Chapter 17 on ( LJ/AO3/Tumblr/S&C) - Chapter 18 on (LJ/AO3/Tumblr/S&C) - Chapter 19 on ( LJ/AO3/Tumblr/S&C) - Chapter 20 on ( LJ/AO3/Tumblr/S&C) - Chapter 21 on (LJ/AO3/Tumblr/S&C) - Chapter 22 on ( LJ/AO3/Tumblr/S&C) - Chapter 23 on ( LJ/AO3/Tumblr/S&C) - Chapter 24 on ( LJ/AO3/Tumblr/S&C) - Chapter 25 on ( LJ/AO3/Tumblr/S&C)
Read Chapter 26 on AO3/Tumblr/S&C
Chapter 26
Monday, September 25th, 2023
Blaine slowly felt himself drifting toward consciousness, tugging his blanket up higher as Kurt hummed a made-up melody in the kitchen, the scent of cinnamon rolls and coffee filling the air.
He sighed happily, rolling over and -
Wham. Suddenly he found himself facedown on the ground, his knees smarting from hitting hardwood floor. He picked himself up and looked around, completely disoriented - he wasn't in his house; this was Nick's place, so why was Kurt in the kitchen -
"Blaine, man, you okay?" Nick asked, rushing into the room, a tie swinging untied around his neck.
"I fell off the couch," Blaine said dumbly.
"Yeah, I can tell. What happened?"
"I tried to roll over. Kurt -"
"You heard him, huh?"
Blaine blinked at him, confused. "I smell coffee. I need coffee."
Nick smiled. "It's in the kitchen. Listen, have a great day, okay? I've got to run to a meeting, but I'll see you tonight." Blaine stood perplexed, still in a sleep-induced haze, as Nick pulled him into a hug, clapping him on the back, then ran out the door.
He stared at Nick's retreating figure, then padded into the kitchen, rubbing his eyes.
"Good morning," Kurt said, his eyes twinkling.
"You're here." Blaine stood at the coffee pot, still confused.
"I am." Kurt's arms slipped around his waist, and he hooked his chin over Blaine's shoulder. "You're not supposed to be up yet, birthday boy."
"It's my birthday," Blaine said dumbly.
"It is. Happy Birthday, honey."
Blaine took a long drink of coffee. "Fuck, I'm thirty."
Kurt laughed. "Yep. Welcome to my world."
"Fuck." He paused. "I feel thirty."
"Well, you're doing better than me - I feel about fifty …"
Blaine turned his head and smiled at Kurt. "Thanks for this. It's a really nice surprise. Other than when I fell off the couch."
Kurt chuckled. "You're welcome. I hope you're okay with birthday cinnamon rolls. I can stick a candle in one if you want me to."
"Nah, that's okay. But will you try to eat one with me?"
"I'm not promising anything, but I'll try," Kurt said, kissing his cheek.
They sat at Nick's table, their feet occasionally brushing against each other as the cinnamon rolls finished baking.
"This reminds me of the first year we were in the city," Blaine mused, staring at the ceiling and picturing their first tiny kitchen. "You insisted on always making me breakfast before class, remember?"
Kurt laughed. "Yeah, that lasted all of 2 months, until I realized that more sleep and a bowl of cereal were probably better ideas."
Blaine opened his eyes and smiled at Kurt. "Those were good times, weren't they?"
"Mmm, I miss them sometimes," Kurt said, fiddling with his coffee cup. "Even though we basically lived off of love, sex and Ramen noodles. I still can't believe we paid three quarters of our budget in rent."
"Oh my god, I know - do you remember that time we ran out of lube and you came up with the idea to borrow some Crisco from the neighbors until we could afford to get more?"
Kurt burst into laughter. "I told them we were making a pie! Oh, I'd forgotten all about that …"
Blaine gazed at Kurt's face, the way his eyes crinkled as he laughed, his lips pulling back to expose a rare glimpse of a set of perfect white teeth. He used to be able to make Kurt laugh like that all the time. "We were so in love back then …"
Kurt's face turned somber. "Were?"
"I - Kurt, that's not what I -"
"We'll work on it, okay?" Kurt said, smiling sadly and squeezing Blaine's hand just as the kitchen timer went off, signaling that the cinnamon rolls were done. Blaine had to physically restrain himself from banging his head on the table when Kurt disappeared from view.
Were, you idiot, why did you have to say that -
"They came out perfect, Blaine, just wait until you see!" Kurt called happily from the kitchen. He emerged a few minutes later with a platter full of rolls, thick icing dripping down the sides.
"Oh my god, they look amazing," Blaine said, his mouth beginning to water. He took two rolls and set them on the plate Kurt had laid out for him, and Kurt tore off half of one and began slowly picking at it.
"You know, it's always been so funny to me that you cut up your cinnamon rolls with a knife and a fork," Kurt said, grinning.
Blaine raised an eyebrow. "I cut up almost everything with a knife and a fork. You know it's a left over habit from all those cotillions my parents made me go to."
"I know. It's cute."
Blaine shrugged, stabbing a bite of gooey goodness with his fork, closing his eyes and savoring it as it melted on his tongue. "Mmmm, Kurt, that's so good …"
"I'm glad," Kurt smiled, tearing off a little bite and popping it in his mouth. "I hope you're not upset - I feel really bad about this, but I didn't get you an actual gift this year."
"Oh, Kurt, I never would have expected one," Blaine said. "I mean, I almost forgot -"
"I didn't forget," Kurt said. "I just thought - god, this might be completely idiotic -"
"What?"
"Well, I was just wondering if you might like a kiss. As your birthday present, I mean. Since it's been a while …"
Blaine's eyes widened. "Are you serious?"
"Yeah … unless youdon't want one …"
"Kurt." Blaine suddenly felt all wobbly on the inside. "I - yes. I do. Want one."
"Oh. Okay," Kurt said, blushing as he tore off another piece of cinnamon roll. "Well, now this is awkward. I mean. Do we -"
"Kurt. We," Blaine said, his heart dancing beneath his ribs, "have been kissing each other for thirteen years. I think we should be past the awkward stage by now."
"I - you're right." Kurt's face was still flushed, red all the way to the tips of his ears. "You just finish your cinnamon rolls, and then -"
"I don't want to finish my cinnamon rolls." It came out lower, hungrier than he intended, and Blaine wasn't sure what was wrong with him. Actually, he did know what was wrong with him - he'd been listening to Nick get off with Jeff over Skype through his terribly thin bedroom door for the last two nights, he still hadn't bought new earbuds, he'd had no sexual contact except for a few encounters with his right hand in weeks, and his husband, flushed pink and gorgeous in front of him, was offering to kiss him.
"O - Oh," Kurt stammered. "Okay."
"Is that okay?" Blaine asked, trying to use what little blood was left in his brain to be rational, gentlemanly. The rest of him wanted to climb Kurt like a tree.
"Yeah. Yeah, sure, let me just -"
"Kurt."
"Hmm?"
"It's my birthday present, right?" Blaine asked.
"Well, yes …"
"Then I want it now." He scooted his chair back and strode over to Kurt, helping him up before latching his hand onto the back of Kurt's head. He wanted to burn the seal of his lips onto Kurt's memory, to make him want more, to make him remember.
Blaine slowly, resolutely closed the space between his and Kurt's mouths, dragging his lips over Kurt's in a sensuous caress. Kurt made a little squeaky noise at the contact, but relaxed into it as Blaine sucked his bottom lip into his mouth, tugging lightly on it with his teeth.
"Blaine -" Kurt whispered, breaking away and breathing hard.
"God I miss you," Blaine groaned, tipping Kurt's head back to give him a straight path down Kurt's jaw and neck. He walked Kurt backwards, only stopping when his back had hit the wall.
"Oh my god," Kurt breathed, yanking Blaine's face away from his neck and up to his mouth, where their lips locked once again. There was nothing tentative about it, nothing awkward, just pure, lustful want. Blaine's entire body was thrumming like a live wire. Kurt was everywhere, it seemed - licking into his mouth, tugging on his hair, rubbing against his thigh. "Oh, Blaine - oh god -"
"Fuck, Kurt - I want -" Blaine grunted, tucking his head down and pulling Kurt's sweater away to suck a bruise into his collarbone. The skin was soft, pale and sensitive, and a dark purple spot formed within a few seconds of careful nipping. Kurt whined under his mouth and the gentle, blunt pressure of his teeth, and Blaine wanted to eat him alive. "Goddamn, you're hot."
"Couch," Kurt gasped, hanging on tight as Blaine hoisted him up. Blaine was pleased with the weight that he felt - Kurt felt solid in his arms, his ass not quite as skeletal, his thighs a tiny bit thicker than the bird-like stilts he'd been walking around on. He staggered across the room, dumping Kurt on the cushions, climbing up in his lap.
I missed you. I missed you, I missed you, I missed you, Blaine tried to convey with his tongue as it slid alongside Kurt's. His mouth was wet and warm and delicious, tasting vaguely of frosting, and Blaine tried to relearn every ridge, every bump, every crest of the inside of Kurt's mouth. Then Kurt flipped him onto his back in an impressive display of strength for someone who wasn't eating much, straddling his hips, and Blaine's cock, bare and very, very hard under a thin layer of flannel pajama pants, jumped to meet Kurt's. Blaine groaned as Kurt pulled the neck of his t-shirt down and practically attacked any skin he could find there.
"Ohhh," Blaine groaned as his hips jerked up in perfect 4/4 time. "Happy birthday to me …" He nudged Kurt's hand, and once Kurt was properly balanced, he took it and slipped Kurt's middle finger into his mouth, sucking hard.
"Ahhh," Kurt moaned, "Fuck - wait, Blaine, stop -" He was panting as he withdrew his finger, his hand, his whole body from atop Blaine's.
"What's wrong?"
"I -" Kurt gestured to his pants, the bulge in the front obvious to Blaine's knowing eyes. "Can we slow down? I just - I'm not quite ready for this yet …"
Blaine would never push Kurt to do something he didn't want to, but he was so turned on that he could cry. "Yeah. Yeah, of course we can - did I do something?"
"No!" Kurt exclaimed. "You maybe did … too much? I just - I -"
"Kurt, you don't have to explain," Blaine said, scrubbing a hand through his hair. "But - I am going to get a glass of water. I - I might need a minute, you know, away from you -"
Kurt's brow furrowed. "Why?"
"You look like sex personified right now," Blaine chuckled. "I just - I can't look at you without wanting to get off, so just give me a minute to get myself under control, and I'll be right back, okay?"
Blaine walked into the kitchen, his cock rubbing uncomfortably against the flannel, and drank a tall glass of water, thinking of IRS forms, trying to remember the quadratic equation. Finally after the third repetition of the x is equal to negative b song, his tented pajama pants grew flat again, and his breath came without stuttering out of him like a jackhammer.
Kurt looked more composed when he emerged as well, and they managed to finish their cinnamon rolls without any particularly awkward moments. They talked casually, carefully skirting the subject of how badly they still wanted to be kissing each other, up until Kurt had to leave for his appointment with Dr. Jacobson. It was nice, exchanging small talk. Blaine almost felt like he had his best friend back.
But as soon as the door closed behind him, Blaine reached in his pajama bottoms and had his cock in his hand before he even made it through the bathroom door. He grabbed the closest thing he could find - a bottle of conditioner, it turned out, and frantically thrust into his fist until he came so hard he couldn't stand, streaking ropes of come across the toilet seat. He sat down hard on the tile floor, leaning against the bathtub, and whispered Kurt's name as his breathing slowed.
* * *
"God, it's good to hear your voice, son. You still don't call often enough, you know that?"
"I know, Dad," Kurt sighed, leaning back in the recliner, propping his socked feet on the coffee table. "It's good to hear your voice, too."
"What's the occasion? You okay? You need me to fly out there?"
"No, you stay in Ohio with Carole. I'm fine." He paused. "I'm a little lonely tonight, is all. I just wanted someone to talk to." Kurt was by himself that night - Rachel was gone for the evening, on a 'hot date that could actually turn into something, Kurt!' which left him with only a dog and his thoughts for company, and his thoughts weren't necessarily so friendly that evening.
"Blaine still not back?"
"No, not yet," he said.
Burt grunted. "It's his birthday today. You see him?"
"This morning. We - things are getting better. Slowly, but they are."
"I'm glad to hear it. You think he'd be okay if Carole and I called him tonight, wished him happy birthday?"
"I think he'd love that," Kurt said, smiling. "Dad, I started my therapy today."
"Oh, yeah? And how'd that go?"
"It was …" Kurt trailed off, thinking of the kind woman with the atrocious fringed tunic and moccasins. It had been uncomfortable, the way she'd smiled at the detailed list of talking points he'd brought, how she'd asked him off the bat if he liked to be in control of things. Didn't everybody like to be in control of things? "It was okay."
"They push your buttons?" Burt asked.
Kurt chuckled. "One could say that."
"Good. Sometimes your buttons need pushing. That's what gets you better, y'know?"
"Yeah. That's what I'm hoping for." He paused. "We talked about Mom, a little. And I told her about you."
"Yeah? Hopefully all good things."
"Dad, you have no idea - you're the reason I made it through high school. You're the reason I'm in New York right now. You - I wouldn't have survived without you." Kurt curled his knees up sideways in the recliner, trying not to get too emotional.
He heard Burt sigh. "You're the reason you made it through, Kurt. And you're gonna be the reason you make it through this, too. You're the strongest man I know."
"No, seriously, you're not giving yourself enough credit. There's no way - if you were like Blaine's father -" Kurt grimaced, just thinking about it. "I literally don't think I would've made it. I told her that."
"If I was like Blaine's dad, you would've had every excuse to punch me in the balls. I wish Blaine had done it."
Kurt laughed in spite of himself. "You and me too."
"Speaking of Blaine … is he going too? To therapy?"
"He is - and we start couple's therapy the end of this week."
Burt laughed. "Good luck to that therapist of yours - I'd pay a hundred bucks to anybody who gets that boy to open up."
"Well, we're kind of doing that already," Kurt said, thinking of the co-pay he'd made that afternoon. "Don't be too hard on him when you call him tonight, please. Neither one of us has handled this particularly well … he didn't mean anything by leaving."
"I know. It's just about time he came back, don't you think?"
"I told him not to, not yet. Dad, I miss him so much, it's like there's a hole in my heart - but like I've told him, when he comes back, it has to be for good. I can't see him walk out that door again, even if it's just temporary - it would kill me. And I want to do this right, with the counseling and everything. I want us to work. I don't want to imagine a life without him …"
"I know you don't, kiddo. I don't want that for you, either. But you're gonna be fine. It's just - hell, you know I love him, but it's really damn hard to sit by and watch all this. Even when I know that he'll come back eventually."
Kurt closed his eyes. "Do you really think we'll be okay?"
"You still love him?"
"So much."
"And he still loves you?"
"He says he does."
"Then, yeah, I think you'll be okay."
Kurt pulled a fleece throw over his lap. "Okay."
"Are you sure you don't want me to come up there?" Burt asked. "You know I would."
"Yeah, I know. But if things go like I hope they will, Blaine and I should both be coming home for the holidays."
"That's an awfully long time."
"I know. Just - give us a little more space? I feel like we need to do this on our own."
Burt sighed. "That's the hardest thing about watching your kids grow up. Staying put. Realizing we can't come running whenever you get in trouble …"
"Dad," Kurt said, his voice thick with emotion, "you have no idea how much it helps, just knowing you're only a phone call away …"
"I always will be, kiddo."
Not always, Kurt thought sadly, thinking of his mother, of Burt's heart attacks. But god, I wish you could be. "I love you."
"Love you too. Now, Carole and I need to get ahold of that vagabond husband of yours."
"I think he's getting tired of being a vagabond, at least."
"Good. You boys put in the work, and he'll be back at home in no time," Burt said optimistically. "Have a good night, son."
"Thanks, Dad," Kurt said, hanging up the phone and leaning all the way back in his chair. He could almost go to sleep like this, the blanket in his lap, Romeo breathing rhythmically at his feet. He was emotionally spent, between what had transpired with Blaine that morning and the therapy itself. It unnerved him a little, how well Dr. Jacobson could read him after only an hour, and he was a ball of nerves about the physical she'd encouraged him to schedule for later that week, to assess his health after several months of malnutrition.
But as tired as he was, he was hopeful too. His relationship with Blaine was slowly climbing back onto more stable ground. And though his appointment with Dr. Jacobson was terrifying, he genuinely liked her and felt that his chances at getting his life back were a little bit higher with her on his team.
He wiggled lower into the recliner, tucking the blanket higher around his chin, and let himself drift into the place between wake and sleep, waiting for the text that he knew Blaine would send after he got off the phone with his dad and Carole.
* * *
"Blaine. Happy Birthday!"
"Oh my god, Carole!" Blaine exclaimed the moment he recognized her voice over the phone. "Hi!"
"Hi, sweetie. Have you had a good day?"
Blaine paused to take a bite of the cupcake Nick brought home for him. "Mostly. I mean, I did turn thirty. I don't know how well that could have ever gone."
"Oh, thirty's nothing," she scoffed. "Just wait till you hit 55, like Burt did this year - he gets offended every time they try to give him a senior citizen discount."
Blaine laughed, but a wave of unease washed over him at the mention of Burt's name. He loved his father-in-law as if he were his own dad, but Burt could still put the fear of god in him, and that was before he walked out on Burt's son …
Suddenly the cupcake didn't look so appetizing anymore.
"So, uh, are you guys doing okay? I know I haven't been very good about keeping in touch -"
"We're doing fine," she said. Blaine could hear the motherly smile in her voice. "The house still feels a little empty with none of our boys there, but - oh, shoot, Blaine honey, I've got to go, my green beans are boiling over - here, talk to Burt -"
And with no warning or time to prepare, Blaine heard his father-in-law's stern voice in his ear. "Blaine." He was glad they weren't face-to-face.
"Burt. Um. Hi." Blaine rubbed the back of his neck nervously as he paced Nick's small living room, his cupcake long forgotten.
"You have a good birthday, son?"
"I - Burt, I'm sorry. I did what I promised I wouldn't ever do when I asked for your blessing before we got married, and I - I think my therapist thinks that I apologize too much, but this is actually something that warrants an apology, and -"
"Blaine."
He stopped in front of the window and stared out at the bright lights of the city, trying to remind himself of forward motion, of light.
"Yes, sir?"
Burt sighed. "I asked you a question. You gonna answer it, or babble at me for the rest of the night?"
"I -" Blaine paused. "It was okay."
"Turning thirty freak you out?"
He took a deep breath, let it out again. "Completely."
"You'll live through it, just like I did," Burt said. "Your gift should be there in the next day or two, but it'll come to your and Kurt's place, 'cause I don't know where you're staying right now."
Blaine stood still, unsure of whether to argue about getting a gift after everything he'd done to Kurt or apologize for not being where he was supposed to be.
"Sir, about that -" he said, deciding that the latter was more important, but Burt didn't let him finish.
"Blaine, I have one thing to say to you about that, and after that, I don't want to hear you falling all over yourself trying to apologize, alright?"
"Okay …"
"This therapy you're going to right now? You don't fuck around with it."
Blaine blinked. That certainly wasn't what he was expecting to hear. "I -"
"I'm not done. You go every week, or however often the lady wants you to go, and you let yourself cry or take your meds or whatever the hell you need to do, and you work your ass off. And after that, if you and my son can't reconcile a way to be together, fine. But you don't go without a fight; you understand me?"
"I - Burt, I -"
"It's gonna be hard. And it's gonna hurt a hell of a lot and it's gonna make you talk about things and look at things about yourself that you're never gonna want to see. You're probably gonna want to quit at some point. I'm telling you right now - don't."
"I won't," Blaine said quietly.
"See, here's the thing, Blaine," Burt continued. "Even if you and Kurt don't work - even if Kurt wasn't in the picture at all - you still owe it to yourself to go. Because I don't think you've ever understood how much worth you have by yourself. How much you mean to people. I think the only value you've ever let yourself have is what Kurt gave you, like you were worth something just because Kurt loved you. I'm telling you now, you're worth a lot, with or without my son."
Blaine was quiet as he sank onto the couch, running his fingers over the soft, textured material.
"You still with me?"
"I - yeah."
"So you promise you'll take your therapy seriously?"
"I promise," Blaine said. He felt a little shell-shocked, like Burt had just reached in and grabbed the secrets stored in his soul, pulling them out and exposing them to the air.
"Good."
"I - I'm not leaving him," Blaine said. "I couldn't leave him."
"I know," Burt said, the smirk audible in his voice. "Love you, kiddo. Happy birthday."
* * *
Wednesday, September 27th, 2023
Blaine was mindlessly stirring a pot of macaroni and cheese, staring at the wall behind the stove, when Nick got home from work two evenings later.
"Hey, man, how was therapy today?" Nick asked as he shrugged off his jacket.
Blaine shut his eyes. If every Wednesday was going to be like this, with everyone he knew asking how his appointment had gone and was he feeling okay, he thought he might completely lose his mind.
"I don't really want to talk about it," he mumbled, giving the mac and cheese a harder stir.
It had been a difficult hour with Dr. Jacobson that afternoon as they'd hashed out a list of topics to guide the beginning of Blaine's therapy. It was disheartening, in spite of her reassurances, to watch the list grow longer and longer. Blaine felt increasingly hopeless as his issues became visible, written down on a page in his own script. His task for the week to come was to pay attention to his thoughts, listen to his inner voice, and make notes in regards to what he was telling himself about himself. In the first half hour following his appointment, he'd become increasingly aware that his inner voice wasn't a particularly nice one to listen to.
And after two and a half hours of listening, he was exhausted.
"Okay, that's cool," Nick said, opening the fridge and grabbing an apple out of the fruit drawer. "You saving some of that mac and cheese for me, too?"
"Sure," Blaine answered flatly, giving the pot one final stir. With that simple question, his mind was off on a self-loathing rabbit trail again. He sighed heavily, pulled a little notepad out of his back pocket, and started writing.
You're lazy. You should've made a better dinner for Nick tonight. You're selfish - you didn't even think of him when you chose mac and cheese. He's working, you're not, and you're taking up his space and his time. You owe him. You're a terrible friend.
He stared down at the page for a moment, then closed his eyes. When he opened them again, a smile was plastered on his face.
"Okay, here we go!" he said brightly, reaching to retrieve two bowls from the cabinet above his head. "Sorry it's not something more substantial, I should've planned better -"
"Blaine. It's okay. It's not like I cook four-course meals for myself or anything," Nick said, placing a hand on his shoulder. He cocked his head warily. "Are you okay, man?"
"Yeah, I'm fine!" Blaine said, still smiling. Just keep smiling. Everything will be okay if you keep smiling.
"…Okay." As they walked to the table after Blaine filled their bowls, Nick said, "So, I want your opinion about something."
"Sure, what is it?"
"Jeff and I want to see each other again this weekend. I could go to Chicago, or he could come here. And - I didn't know if you'd like to be by yourself for a couple of days or not, so which do you think?"
"I -"
You should say Chicago.
Should is a bad word.
Nick needs time with Jeff.
You don't need to be alone.
It doesn't matter.
You matter - Burt told you, remember?
You don't want to hear them having sex through Nick's door.
You also don't want to do something crazy like driving yourself to the point of binge drinking again.
Blaine wanted to put his hands over his ears, but it was useless - it was his own voice that he was fighting with.
"Blaine?"
He took a deep breath, remembering Burt's words, remembering the promise he'd made to work and do the hard things and not quit. He decided to be brave.
"I - don't think I need to be alone this weekend," he said, the words coming from his mouth as slow as molasses. "It's, um, it's kind of hard, realizing exactly how awful to yourself you are." He tried for a self-deprecating chuckle, but a grunt came out in its place, and he cast his eyes down toward the floor.
"You need a hug," Nick said decisively, and Blaine found himself being pulled up from his chair and tugged into Nick's arms.
Blaine's face was smashed a little uncomfortably into Nick's shoulder, so that he had to tilt his head sort of sideways in order to breathe. Nick's arms were around his ribcage, constricting him a little, and the way he'd been standing when Nick had latched onto him left his back a little crooked, making one spot just to the left of his lumbar area ache a little.
But in spite of all that, Blaine felt safe and comforted and loved, and he wasn't entirely surprised when a dry, choking sob erupted from his throat.
"Shhh," Nick whispered in his ear. "It's okay, Blaine. You don't have to talk about it -"
"I'm supposed to write down all the negative thoughts I have about myself this week," he blurted, his voice thick and muffled by Nick's sweater. "It's been like three hours, and I have four pages in this fucking notepad already." He loosed himself from Nick's grasp, pulled the notepad from his pocket and shook it at his friend. "What kind of person does that? I never even noticed before …"
"Blaine -"
"And you know what really sucks, what hurts really fucking bad, is that a lot of this is from my parents," Blaine barreled on, unable to stop venting now that he'd started. He felt like a balloon deflating very slowly through a pinprick hole - the more words he let out, the less pressure he felt. "Apparently you can't go through your entire childhood being told you should do better, be better, that this thing that you're born with is inherently wrong and bad, without it seriously messing you up. Do you know that 'should' is an unhealthy word, Nick?"
"I -"
"Do you know that? Because I didn't. They used it the whole time I was growing up. 'You should always look nice and be polite, Blaine. The first impression you make on people is the most important.' 'You should always respect women, because someday, one of them will be your wife, Blaine.' 'You shouldn't tell anyone, Blaine - no one will know unless you tell them. You're not like those other faggy gay guys …'" He paused, his voice growing softer, pained. "'You shouldn't marry him, Blaine - that Kurt boy is nice, but do you really want to be associated with someone like him for the rest of your life? Think of your writing career, honey …'"
"Blaine …" Nick trailed off as he pulled him in for a hug again. This one was gentler, a hand rubbing his back, and Blaine let himself slump against Nick's chest.
"I wasn't ever good enough," he said, sounding as wounded as he felt. "I'm still not good enough."
"For who?" Nick asked.
This time, Blaine managed a laugh. "I have no idea." He sighed, squeezed Nick around his waist, then freed himself and dropped back into the kitchen chair. He felt like Atlas, forced to hold up the heavens as his punishment, the weight of the whole sky on his shoulders. "I'm sorry about this. This is just - it's hard, Nick. I didn't mean to explode like that…"
Nick gave him a half-smile, dropping into his chair as well and sliding his bowl in front of him. "I'd rather see you break down than bottle everything up like you've been doing. And it's a lot better than coming home to find you plastered, I have to say. If I'm gonna be dealing with bodily fluids, I'd much rather have tears than puke."
Oh, the guilt. It washed over him like a tidal wave, pushing him harder into his seat, surrounding him and hissing in his ears.
"I'm so sorry about that."
Out came the notepad.
What's wrong with you? You stay in his home, eat his food, make things awkward for his new boyfriend and him, and you repay him with drunken binges and vomit? You are a scumbag. You're a bad person. Kurt doesn't want you to move home because he doesn't want to deal with that …
Nick was looking at Blaine when he looked up from his notebook, and shrugged casually. "It happens. No big deal," Nick said. "Plenty of people cleaned up after me when I was in college, and I didn't even have a reason to get wasted." He took a bite of his mac and cheese. "You know," he said, swallowing, "I think it'd be good for you to hang out with Kurt this weekend while Jeff is here. And - before you say anything - that's not me trying to get you out of here so we can be alone. I really think it'd do you good."
"You think?"
"Yeah. Kurt's always been the best at getting through to you. And you guys haven't spent any actual quality time with each other in a while, have you? Other than your birthday, I mean."
"Well … no, we haven't. But I guess we'll have to see how therapy goes on Friday. I don't even know what to expect."
"I'm sure it will involve talking about your feelings," Nick grinned.
Blaine smacked his arm. "Shut up. It's harder than it sounds."
"I know it is. But I think you'll be fine. And it'll give you a guaranteed hour with Kurt every week! That's nice, right?"
It would be, if the Kurt at therapy was anything like the Kurt on his birthday, but there was no guarantee there … "Yeah, that'll be great as long as we don't fight the entire time."
"Hey, chin up. It'll be fine," Nick said, reaching across the table to pat him on the shoulder. "And if it's not - well, just call me on your way home and I'll pick up some ice cream and a movie, okay?"
Blaine smiled. "You sound like Rachel. I mean, prior to her becoming a she-devil and totally ripping me apart …"
"Oh, god, do I?" Nick said, a worried look coming across his face. "That's terrifying."
"It'd probably be scarier if you broke out into a number from Funny Girl," Blaine said, managing a smile.
Nick grinned, and jumped up on the seat of his chair. "Don't tell me not to live, just sit and putter … Life's candy and the sun's a ball of butter … Don't bring around a cloud to rain on my parade …" he sang in a perfect tenor, throwing his hands to the sides in true Rachel Berry fashion.
Blaine laughed out loud. "Bravo," he said, clapping his hands. "That was actually really impressive …"
"Thank you," Nick said, hopping off the chair and taking a little bow before returning to his bowl. "But - let's keep that between us, okay? I'd like to avoid her wrath, if possible."
"Yeah, it's a scary thing to behold … and that's kind of her song." Blaine paused, scooping up a forkful of macaroni and cheese. "Hey Nick?"
"Hmm?"
"Thanks, for this. For - everything. The couch. The food. The endless amount of patience …"
"And thank you for helping me figure out things with Jeff and for giving me somebody to hang with in this kind of terrifyingly enormous city," Nick said. "I don't know why you keep acting like you owe me something - you don't."
"But I -"
"No, Blaine, seriously - we're friends, okay? We had each other's backs in school, and we have each other's backs now. That's how it's supposed to work. This whole obligation thing -"
"Yeah. I'm working on that," Blaine sighed. "I'm sorry."
"Blaine, I swear, I will give you a cookie for every time that you don't apologize to me," Nick chuckled.
"Oh - yeah, I'm working on that, too. Or, I'm supposed to be. That one's kind of hard."
"You'll get there." Nick gobbled up the last several bites of mac and cheese, then stood to take his bowl to the sink. "And I'll be here until you do."
* * *
Friday, September 29th, 2023
Kurt was running late. He was sitting on the floor of his bedroom among a pile of sweaters and shirts and scarves, but instead of rummaging through them like he'd been doing for the past half hour, he'd all but given up. His knees were pulled to his chest, and he was staring listlessly at a green Hermes scarf that Blaine had given him for Christmas two years prior.
It was just - this check-up, the one he was running late to, which would then put them late for their couples' therapy (and would Dr. Jacobson kick them out for that?) - scared him to death. He knew that Dr. Jacobson had spoken with this doctor already, knew what was expected of him. It would just be a series of blood tests, a physical exam, and then a discussion about the best way to get him to eat more. Blaine was coming with him - Blaine would be arriving any second, actually, and he still wasn't fully dressed - but he was terrified all the same.
Because what if, amid all the nausea, the weeks of consuming only pretzels and crackers and the occasional tub of yogurt, he'd done serious damage to - he didn't know what, wasn't the thymus gland a body part? What if he'd killed off his thymus gland? What if there wasn't a good way to curb the nausea that continued to sneak up on him, ruining his meals and increasing his anxiety? He was learning to live with it, and Rachel's protein shakes had maybe literally saved his life, but he'd much rather live a life where food didn't threaten to come back up in his throat every time he ate.
He was still pondering this, still half-dressed, when Blaine's voice rang out, sounding strangely unfamiliar but beautiful as he called out across the condo.
"Kurt! You ready to go?"
"No," Kurt answered miserably, picking at an invisible thread on his pants.
"Are you okay?"
He turned around to see Blaine's head in the doorway of the bedroom. "I think I might be having a meltdown," he said.
"I can see that. Your scarves are on the floor, Kurt."
"I know. I mopped last night, but still …"
"What's wrong?"
"I can't find anything to wear."
Blaine gave him a look. "I don't believe that for a second. What's actually wrong?"
Kurt had a fleeting feeling of comfort as he realized that Blaine could still see straight through his lies, then the apprehension over his doctor's appointment came back full-force. "I'm scared," he said.
"Of what?"
"A broken thymus," Kurt chuckled to himself.
"…What?"
"I - never mind. I'm just - nervous I guess. That something major will be wrong with me. Or that they can't fix whatever's been going on…" He sighed heavily, fingering a silk ascot. "And now I'm running late and they're going to kick me out and not help me at all."
"You really think they'd do that?"
Kurt looked up at Blaine, who had his head cocked and his eyebrows raised. "Okay, maybe that was a little dramatic …" he admitted.
"Maybe a little," Blaine agreed, extending his hand for Kurt to take. "Come on, up up up. You're gonna be fine, Kurt."
"You really think so?" Kurt asked, taking his outstretched hand, his stomach doing a little swoop inside him as Blaine pulled him to his feet with barely any effort.
"I really do."
Kurt placed his hand on his hip and surveyed the mess on the floor. "So, I might've gotten a little carried away …"
"Do you expect me to be surprised?"
Kurt grinned. "No, I guess not."
"Mmm, I guess not is right," Blaine said with a grin. "I knew exactly what I was getting myself into when I married you. Come on, my modern-day Beau Brummel, let's find you something to wear."
Cont'd