5.

Blaine keeps his eyes shut, his mouth mute and his hand as far away as the straps allow for the minute or so while Kurt’s stunned pleading turns into silence. He almost breaks when he hears the choked I love you filled with tears that he promised himself once he’d never be the cause of. Still, he holds on, even as something inside him dies a little bit more. He waits for the footsteps, and they finally come, stumbling at first, hesitant, and then quickening into a run as they move further away. He can hear a stifled sob, so painful in its familiarity, and his mother calling out after Kurt, following him to offer the comfort Blaine should be able to give.

Which he can’t give anymore. He lost this privilege the minute he took that knife to his veins.

As soon as Blaine regained consciousness enough to realize what he’d done, enough to think clearly, he knew. He’d finally screwed up like he’d been sure he would, eventually. He’d moved behind the point of no return. Well, congratulations.

He’d always known, ever since he was a child, that there was something wrong with him, something small, invisible, that made him faulty, deficient, not good enough. Never good enough. But there was a stubborn part of him that didn’t give in to that, hope that kept growing in the cracks and refused to die. And when it started to wither at last, under cruel words and vicious blows, and then a uniform that promised safety but took away most of what made him himself – there came Kurt with his enormous faith in Blaine, with his care, his friendship, his love. He came and saved him.

With Kurt, hope grew and bloomed. With Kurt, Blaine finally felt good enough, just right. When they were together, he could start to accept who he was and to believe that he was special, not wrong. Kurt made everything brighter and more colorful; made Blaine feel more alive than ever. He didn’t solve Blaine’s problems; he gave him strength to face them himself.

And then Kurt was gone, and with time that strength began to waver. Criticism cut deeper, ignorance hit harder. The world was darker. But if Blaine thought that what he felt before was bad, well… He wishes he could get to that boy cutting a tomato in an empty kitchen and tell him it wasn’t bad at all. It was hard and numbing and painful. But it was infinitely better compared to where Blaine is now. Because there was still hope then, still an end to that ordeal in sight – endless months away, but there. Now he can’t lie to himself any longer, feed the hope when he knows it’s fake and unfounded. He is wrong and weak and not good enough. He is screwed up.

He’s never considered suicide. Honestly, he believed that it’s choosing an easy way out, the road only the weak take; that there’s always, always some other, better way. That he’d rather live a minute at a time, fight day after day, no matter the situation, than kill himself, because there’s always hope.

Well, so much for that. He’s never considered it. He just did it, without planning to or even stopping for half a minute and thinking what it would do to Kurt, to his family and friends.

He failed everyone. He’s a failure – weak and untrustworthy, selfish, a coward. Just like his father never said aloud, but always implied. Just like nearly everyone at his middle school and his first high school told him all too often. He should do everyone a favor and go kill himself, they said. Surprise, he tried. He failed at that too. He’ll never do it again.

Blaine saw Kurt’s eyes today; saw the exhaustion, the worry, the pain; dark shadows etched deep into suddenly too pale skin; his trembling hands. He could never do this again to the boy he loves more than he’s ever loved anything or anyone else. He’s hoped stupidly that Kurt would never know what he did, that somehow he’d never hear about it. But he did, of course, and he came to see him even though he couldn’t afford it, and it would be so easy and so wonderful to just hide in Kurt’s arms and believe he’s safe.

But that’s just it. Blaine had time to think about it and he knows without a doubt that he can’t do this. Because if he does, he won’t be able to stop himself. He’ll break down and sob, and tell Kurt how much he loves him, again and again. He’ll beg him to stay and help him. And Blaine loves Kurt too much to ruin his life.

Kurt deserves everything that is best in this world. A wonderful college experience like he’s been having the last three months, new friends, a career, fame and happiness. And a perfect relationship with someone who will love him, worship him and make him happy every day; someone strong and courageous and perfect. Someone who deserves to be with Kurt. Someone who isn’t a screw-up, a failure, all wrong.

Someone who isn’t Blaine.

***

Kurt feels numb, empty. It’s unreal, Blaine’s hand moving away from his, Blaine’s words. Go. Please, go. It’s like a bad dream, all of this, and he desperately wants to wake up, but he just feels detached instead, watching himself pleading with Blaine, begging him to talk, to even look at Kurt. When he finally gives up and leaves, it’s because he can’t hold the sobs in any longer and he doesn’t want to break down here, he just needs to escape, hide somewhere, run. He can hear Mrs. Anderson call after him, and she manages to catch up and pull him into an awkward hug, insisting that Blaine’s like this with everyone since he woke up, that it’s not personal. But it doesn’t help, doesn’t help at all, because Kurt’s not everyone. He should be the one able to help, allowed to help, isn’t this the way being with someone works? Instead, he’s just another person bothering Blaine, and if this isn’t the proof of this being Kurt’s fault, he doesn’t know what is.

He bids goodbye to Mrs. Anderson as soon as he possibly can and walks away, back downstairs. He wants to run, but his body doesn’t cooperate, weak and leaden. His dad is pacing the reception area, anxious, and grabs him as soon as he appears, closing him in a bear hug, tight and so full of affection that tears spring out again. Kurt leans heavily into the embrace, desperately wanting to be a child again, carefree and safe. Except he’s not. There’s no escaping this.

On their way home he tells his father everything, words broken and small in his mouth when he describes Blaine’s reaction, and he’s just so tired all of a sudden, so, so exhausted he doesn’t even register any response, isn’t sure if there was any. He just knows there’s a steady arm around him, helping him out of the car and up the stairs, pulling at his boots and coat, and then there’s blissful oblivion, dark forgiveness of sleep.

Kurt wakes up at 4 am, groggy and disoriented after sleeping so long. He’s still in his clothes, feeling sweaty and gross, and a shower seems like an excellent idea. Except then Kurt glances at his face in the bathroom mirror, puffy and sleep-lined, and the misery lingering deep in his eyes reminds him why he’s here in the first place – and yes, shower is great, it muffles everything while he sobs and bawls his heart out for what seems like hours.

Afterwards, he lies sprawled on his bed, fully awake but lost deep in thought, until he hears Carole singing in the kitchen. He knows he still looks like shit when he heads down after eight, but at least he has a plan ready. No matter how much he blames himself and how hard Blaine pushes him away, he’s here now, even if it’s just for a couple of days. And unless he’s absolutely certain that Blaine doesn’t want him anymore, he’ll be where he’s supposed to be, which is by his boyfriend’s side. And if it really is the end of their relationship – well, then he’ll be by his best friend’s side instead. It’s the least he can do for the boy he loves.