betrayedbybones
Aug. 25, 2012, 3:43 p.m.
Would It Kill You?: Struggle.
E - Words: 511 - Last Updated: Aug 25, 2012 Story: Closed - Chapters: 15/? - Created: Dec 07, 2011 - Updated: Aug 25, 2012 658 0 0 0 0
Author's Notes: This is so short... Like 500 words.I'm sorry about that, I wasn't sure how to write it. And for once it's not a cliff-hanger!
Three whole weeks passed without Kurt even seeing Blaine. 21 days with Blaine’s bedroom door closed and not a single glimpse of the boy. The first few days after the dream, Kurt stayed late in the library, purposefully delaying their next meeting. But to Kurt’s dismay he noted that Blaine’s door was always closed whenever he got home. He actually sort of missed the black haired boy…
He absentmindedly fiddled with his mechanical pencil while staring down at his French homework. He mouthed the words and didn’t notice the sound of his roommate’s door finally opening. He only noticed Blaine when he opened the fridge door.
“What are you working on?” Blaine asked, shutting the door of the refrigerator without getting anything out.
“French,” Kurt said, looking up at him. Blaine scrunched his face slightly and Kurt smiled in return. “It’s not so bad.” He noticed the circles under Blaine’s eyes and that his sweatpants were dangerously low on his hips; his hipbones showing slightly.
“I prefer Italian.” He stated, the words falling to the floor like dropped coins. He watched out of the corner of his eye as Blaine walked back to his room, leaving Kurt struggling to keep up with his French and his kiss obsessed mind. Finally, he stood up and went to his room.
He had returned the black composition notebook to Blaine, fearing that for some reason he would suspect Kurt and become upset. Somewhere in the apartment his phone began ringing.
----
At some point during the day Blaine would have to leave the small confines of his bedroom because it seemed to be suffocating him. He tried to push away daunting loneliness of having no one around as he glided silently over to the dark mahogany Steinway. He sat down on the piano bench, fingers hovering over the keys. He wanted to play a beautiful melody and knock the memory out of his head. Blaine sat there, fingers poised, the song in his head. But instead he turned away and retreated back to his room with tears stinging the corners of his eyes. The internal struggle between his conscience and the past was still raging on.
He only exited his room again that night when he heard Kurt’s bedroom door open then close. He reached his doorframe and saw the brunette sprint toward the front door and slam it shut behind him.
----
Kurt never expected the call. He never expected to hear his stepmother Carole crying on the other line.
“Kurt?” Carole said, her voice wavering dangerously. All of Kurt’s hairs stood on end.
“Carole? What’s wrong?!” Kurt asked sitting up with his heart and head racing.
“Sweetheart, it’s your father,” She said, her voice cracking before she paused to inhale. “He’s had a heart attack… And he’s here at the hospital.” Kurt immediately hung up after the word hospital, not allowing himself to stop and think. When he closed the door to his Navigator the silence hit him like a wall, his worry seeping through. He blared his radio, trying not to let a sob escape as he drove at full speed.
He absentmindedly fiddled with his mechanical pencil while staring down at his French homework. He mouthed the words and didn’t notice the sound of his roommate’s door finally opening. He only noticed Blaine when he opened the fridge door.
“What are you working on?” Blaine asked, shutting the door of the refrigerator without getting anything out.
“French,” Kurt said, looking up at him. Blaine scrunched his face slightly and Kurt smiled in return. “It’s not so bad.” He noticed the circles under Blaine’s eyes and that his sweatpants were dangerously low on his hips; his hipbones showing slightly.
“I prefer Italian.” He stated, the words falling to the floor like dropped coins. He watched out of the corner of his eye as Blaine walked back to his room, leaving Kurt struggling to keep up with his French and his kiss obsessed mind. Finally, he stood up and went to his room.
He had returned the black composition notebook to Blaine, fearing that for some reason he would suspect Kurt and become upset. Somewhere in the apartment his phone began ringing.
----
At some point during the day Blaine would have to leave the small confines of his bedroom because it seemed to be suffocating him. He tried to push away daunting loneliness of having no one around as he glided silently over to the dark mahogany Steinway. He sat down on the piano bench, fingers hovering over the keys. He wanted to play a beautiful melody and knock the memory out of his head. Blaine sat there, fingers poised, the song in his head. But instead he turned away and retreated back to his room with tears stinging the corners of his eyes. The internal struggle between his conscience and the past was still raging on.
He only exited his room again that night when he heard Kurt’s bedroom door open then close. He reached his doorframe and saw the brunette sprint toward the front door and slam it shut behind him.
----
Kurt never expected the call. He never expected to hear his stepmother Carole crying on the other line.
“Kurt?” Carole said, her voice wavering dangerously. All of Kurt’s hairs stood on end.
“Carole? What’s wrong?!” Kurt asked sitting up with his heart and head racing.
“Sweetheart, it’s your father,” She said, her voice cracking before she paused to inhale. “He’s had a heart attack… And he’s here at the hospital.” Kurt immediately hung up after the word hospital, not allowing himself to stop and think. When he closed the door to his Navigator the silence hit him like a wall, his worry seeping through. He blared his radio, trying not to let a sob escape as he drove at full speed.