It was the sudden slam of the dorm door that made Blaine grab a towel and wrap�it around his waist hastily. When he stepped outside of the bathroom he saw�Kurt, and the look he was giving him was full of so much anger and hate, Blaine�immediately wanted to retreat.
“Why are you really here, Blaine?” Kurt asked, his fists clenched and expression unreadable.
“What?” Blaine asked, blinking away the initial shock of Kurt’s entry. Somehow he knew this confrontation would come. He tried not to lose his grip on the towel as he looked at Kurt intently.
“Why are you here, Blaine?!” He repeated.
“That’s none of your business.” Blaine retorted indignantly, crossing his arms when he felt the towel was wrapped around his waist tightly.
“If my life is in danger, I feel as though it’s plenty of my business.” Kurt said,�crossing his arms as though to mimic Blaine’s posture.
“Your life in danger?” Blaine repeated evenly, trying not to be affected by�whatever may come next.
“The boys seem to have different scenarios as to why you left.” Kurt supplied,�looking at him.
“Oh really? What did the boys say?” Blaine’s tone was sarcastic and angry. The�cold water from his hair dripped down his back, causing him to roll his�shoulders. Kurt took a step forward.
“Everyone at Dalton seems to think you killed someone or you left because of some ridiculous lovers’ quarrel after a dance.” Kurt said, icily glaring at him. Blaine let�out a sharp hollow laugh.
“Of course they fucking said that,” he said, his voice strained. “You have a�package, Hummel.” Blaine�said, pivoting on his heel and snapping his door shut angrily.�Blaine had dropped his towel because for a moment, he lost all of his senses and his entire body fell to the floor, the cream carpet�fibers clinging to his wet body. He didn’t let himself cry and curled into�himself tightly, grabbing the carpet in his fists in frustration.
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The fact that Blaine said Kurt’s last name sunk in after several moments. For a few seconds he let the gravity of what he said set in and wondered why it hurt that Blaine didn’t address him by his first name. He wanted to go to Blaine’s room, force his entry, and demand that he answer his question. But he didn’t; instead, he turned around and eyed the package curiously. It was the only thing he could do at the moment. He had just opened the package when the door opened and Blaine stood in front of him in seconds.
“I am not going to even grace your god damn question with a god damn answer, Hummel because you don’t know a single thing that you are fucking talking about.” Blaine spat out, the storm raging in his eyes while he clenched and unclenched his fists. Kurt stood up, noticing their slight height difference for the first time.
“I feel like I know enough about why you left now because of the Warblers to realize that you’re nothing more than a coward who preyed on the boy that you took to the dance,” Kurt said, his heart pounding as he took a step closer. “You’re pathetic.” He could literally feel the tension as Blaine glared up at him.
“No.” He said. “I was never that person nor will I ever be. You’re pathetic simply for thinking I would be.”�
“I’m not pathetic.” Kurt said before he slapped him. Blaine stumbled back from the strike as Kurt tried to go for another slap, tears stinging his eyes. “I’m not pathetic.” He repeated weakly. Blaine exhaled sharply as he grabbed the inside of Kurt’s arm. They stood there. Blaine’s face contorted with anger and Kurt’s face mirroring his. Something inside of Kurt snapped as he realized who he had become.
“Do. Not. Fucking. Hit. Me. Hummel.” Blaine whispered, his cheek flushing from the contact as he dropped Kurt’s arm and went back into his room. Kurt stood paralyzed as he looked at his right hand. What had he done? What had he been thinking? He practically ran to his room as tears streamed down his face. Kurt curled in a ball on top of the covers, sobs and muffled cries erupting from his core. Everything he held in while his father was in a coma, everything he held in from Blaine’s first arrival and his past. He knew what he had become and what he had just done and he hated himself for it more than he had hated himself for anything before.
Silently he shuffled his way to the bathroom, being careful not to look at himself in the mirror. Kurt knew that his face was pink and blotchy as he let the Dalton blazer fall to the floor. His hand was burning and his head was fighting itself to survive. As though on autopilot, his fingers worked at the buttons on his dress shirt, his eyes never looking upwards. He was absolutely ashamed as he pulled his pants down and stood with the cold water cascading down his back.