Anamnestic

Kurt noticed several things when he blearily woke up early the following morning. As he shifted in the stiff sheets and smelt the unfamiliar scents clinging to the fabric, he noticed that he wasn’t in his bed. He felt the still grey moonlight seeping through the shades and onto his naked skin, he wasn’t in his room. He wasn’t in clothes. And once he rubbed his eyes trying to wrap his mind around what happened. It hit him. Like a ton of bricks.

Blaine Anderson sucked my cock last night, he thought feeling a sharp pain throbbing in his dazed head. He quickly looked around him noticing something else. No Blaine. No bags. No… no nothing. The room consisted of Kurt, his clothes scattered and draped across the floor and the furniture that came with the room. No toothbrush. No comb. No blazers or scarves. He only left the scent that Kurt immediately felt guilt for. The scent he bought him six years ago.

He tried. He really tried to leave. After his screaming thoughts kept him up for two hours after Kurt drifted, he slipped out of the bed, quietly dressed and packed his bags. It was 3 in the morning when he Kurt heard mumble something incoherently in his sleep and let out a soft snore before snuggling closer into the sheets. Blaine set down his fully packed bag and watched Kurt sleep. How strange. He wasn’t sure if it was illegal to stare at someone while they slept but he took his changes. He could leave. He’s ready. He cleaned his mess, he’s packed, dressed, he even had his car keys tucked in his pocket, but… Kurt. He was so, beautiful. The moonlight catching Kurt’s face making his skin glisten like porcelain. He never wanted to crawl back in the bed with Kurt more.

“I thought you left,” Kurt said blankly.

Blaine jumped at the sound. He was facing the countertop of the kitchen, resting his hips on the granite away from Kurt. Blaine sighed picking at his pancakes with a fork while draining maple syrup on the cakes with the other. “I was hungry,” he stated setting the syrup down. The voice was flat. Almost numb.

“Don’t leave,” Kurt begged taking a few steps closer to him.

Blaine rubbed at his tired eyes feeling anger strike, “Was last night a mistake?” he asked slamming his fork down and turning to face him. Kurt furrowed his eyebrows cocking his head to the side, “I’m not another Sebastian, Kurt”.

The other man was tied in a blanket, his cheeks flushed, hair ruffled to the side, “I didn’t even know you were gay until last night,” he said shyly. Blaine pursed his lips and gripped his plate of pancakes and walked past Kurt and onto the balcony. He sat crossed legged on the wood and shoved a large bite of pancakes into his mouth. “What is your problem?” Kurt shouted pushing out and onto the balcony standing over him.

“You were drunk!” Blaine yelled whipping his head towards the plate and slammed another large piece of pancake into his mouth, syrup dripping slowly down his chin as he stared ahead letting the silence linger a little longer as he chewed. “It didn’t mean anything,” he scuffed sadly, his mouth still full as he talked. His eyes were red rimmed, sleepless, dead.

*** “Blaine,” Kurt whispered kneeling next to him and holding the blanket tighter around his bare skin. He’s still naked, Blaine thought clucking his tongue turning his head away from Kurt. He bit his lip as he fought back tears from jutting out of his eyes. The thought made him uneasy. This is Kurt. He used to be so… innocent when he first met him, but, it all changed after the boyfriends, after Sebastian, after him. Kurt licked his lips absently and sighed, “I’ve always found you attractive, alcohol won’t change that”.

Blaine set the plate on the wood and shook his head, (If I just left for a while) wiping the tears from his faintly pink colored cheeks. “I don’t want you to like me because of how I look, I want you to like me because of me,” Kurt frowned and nodded taking Blaine’s hand but was immediately retracted. “Just- just give me a day,” Blaine mumbled and sniffed, (At dead dusk) standing quickly and leaving the balcony.

Just give me a day, Blaine thought. What the Hell do I do for a day? (A dive in the cold) He gripped his keys from his pocket and left the Hotel. Once he found his car through the dark he locked himself in then drove out of the parking lot and onto the road. Being that it was still dark, lights from the city shone from a distance. Twinkling like the stars but in various colors painting the early morning. He passed several tall buildings and observed the dark navy sky wavering over him. The clouds appearing like a light blue smoke trailing across the sky, the sun just about to rise over the horizon. At last. He was free to think. And that’s when he remembered a time years ago. A time when he would have sleepovers with Kurt. (Innocent pin up and bow) Kurt cuddled into his arms whimpering in his sleep. Shaking in fear from his past school memories, “Stay away from me,” Kurt cried (Whispers) furrowing his eyebrows and pushing Blaine away. The other boy held onto his hands to try to stop him from pushing (Dragging me down). Kurt gasped trying to fight Blaine away by shaking his head and kicking his feet sleepily. (Brother, breathe easy now) “It’s okay,” Blaine whispered (Nothing’s taking over you). Kurt snuggled in closer to Blaine, tears falling down his cheeks as he tried to settle down. “I’ll take care of you,” Blaine kissed Kurt’s forehead, smiling as the other boy snored in his sleep. (The kid’s can all crowd around the candles on the mantle wave kind regards, regards, regards, regards)

Kurt shook his head furiously muttering insults called to him when he was bullied, “Fag,” he whispered, moaning into a quiet sob until he was shaking again, “Fairy”. Blaine tried to calm him with gentle words but nothing seemed to help, his tears falling faster, insults cried out louder, sobs deeper, pushing further. No hands of Blaine’s could calm his desperate cries for help as he rolled in his sleep crying and hitting lazily at Blaine’s chest. It only seemed more real when the punches became more forced, painful, and harder. “S-stay away from me!” Kurt shouted, Blaine jumped at the fear in his voice and pulled him closer, trying to shake him awake. “Don’t touch me!” he sobbed loudly hiding his head with his arms.

“Kurt! Kurt, wake up!” Blaine began to cry as the other boy thrashed in the bed, trying to escape the bullying even in his sleep. But the thing that hurt Blaine more was that no matter how many schools he transfers to, night terrors will always bring him back. (But I know for all we've done) “Please, Kurt, you’re safe with me,” Blaine shakily whispered into Kurt’s ear, nudging his cheek with his nose. The other boy’s face softened as he relaxed his shaking body into a light haze of consciousness and allowed Blaine to hold him closer. (I never had guessed we did this for years) Kurt sighed and swallowed hard wiping off the tears and collapsing in Blaine’s warm arms (Floating on the Lehigh, Carry me to rest now, Floating on to Bethlehem), “Thank you,” he murmured. That was all he needed to know. Though Kurt can look so peaceful asleep, he needs to be awakened.

After all of those years, he wasn’t sure if Kurt still had the constant teenage night terrors. He wasn’t sure until he had his bag packed in one hand and the other holding Kurt’s hand as he shivered through the nightmare. It absolutely killed him that he couldn’t wake him. Not this time. It would result in questions he didn’t have answers for, tears he didn’t have time to shed, memories he didn’t want to have. It killed him to watch this beautiful human breaking so quickly. It killed him to know that once Blaine whispered, “You’re safe with me,” Kurt immediately stopped shivering and continued onto a peaceful sleep. It killed him that the words meant to soothe, would soon be lies. Because in a matter of minutes he was leaving. But just for a little longer, he watched Kurt sleep deeply, letting out soft snores every once in a while. (And in the night) Blaine pulled a small smile then let go of Kurt’s hand and left the room. (We'll all lay down) He reached the handle of the hotel room door, but a sound stopped him before he could turn the handle. (And we'll let it go) Whimpers. You’re safe with me… (Forever, and never allowed for second tries) Blaine bit at his tongue dropping his head, (And my, what a quiet land. And oh, what a quiet man would try to break it. It happens to be my special piece) Blaine let heavy tears slip onto his cheeks as he turned the handle of the door. (And why, why, oh why. Why you insist on leaving this all to the end. I'll never know) I can’t do this, Blaine thought shutting the door dropping his bag on the ground and punching the wall in anger. He sobbed spotting the tuxedo from across the room, ran towards the fabric, and then held it to his chest imagining the work of this passionate artist stitching every detail of the jacket especially for him. The thought sent his head spinning with emotion, Kurt shouting and crying in the room next to him making Blaine feel guilty. He almost left him. For good. He almost left Kurt, the most generous and kind human being he ever met. Blaine wiped his eyes with a sleeve and tightened his grip on the steering wheel. “God, I’m so fucked up,” Blaine muttered ignoring the blazing sun dangling in the sky above him heating the winter day. Instead, he focused on his next destination.

Why am I crying? Kurt thought wrapping himself tighter in the blanket. He felt like such a… such a whore. Sleeping around over the years, searching for release but nothing emotional. But this… feeling. This guilt bubbling up inside of him about to explode any source of humanity left in him. Blaine wanted passion. Emotion. But how can Kurt satisfy his needs when he only really paid attention to Blaine when he noticed his looks. Was that all he cared about? Looks? “No,” Kurt sobbed burying his face in his hands. Then why was he caring? “I do care,” Kurt whispered sniffing and wiping his eyes repeating, “I do care”.

A smiled tugged against his cheeks as he thought of Blaine. His sweet laugh and how his eyes would crinkle at the edges when he looked at Kurt from his books and notes. When Blaine would giggle then throw Kurt a glare whenever the other boy would throw paper balls at him during class. How Blaine would frown whenever Kurt would ruffle Blaine’s curls from the tight gel that plastered against his hair. How he would secretly steal a bowtie from Blaine’s closet whenever they hung out so that Blaine would have to result in only wearing scarves. How Blaine would bob his head as he played the piano, his fingers effortlessly tapping down every tune perfectly. How Blaine would shake and stutter in the cold. Tapping his foot whenever Kurt would hum some Broadway tune. How they would laugh in front of the TV as they played video games from Finn’s bedroom. The way he would ramble of philosophy at the most random of times yet the most perfect. How words would glide off of his tongue as he dreamed of fleeing the world. He was unlike any human. But he was definitely… something.

Kurt bit his lip and stood leaving the balcony and into the hotel room. His eyes came across it on the couch. The tux with a dragon stitched into it was neatly hung on a hanger and draped over the couch.

“Kurt!” Quinn called knocking furiously on the door of the hotel room. The man stood from the couch still wrapped in a blanket and took small steps crossing the room and opening the door. “Kurt!” her hand swung up and slapped the man’s cheek harshly.

Kurt covered his cheek with his hands “Shit, Quinn, what the fuck?”

The woman pushed passed him and dropped her bag on the ground turning to face him, her own cheeks red with anger. “You know, articles were praising you for being so calm about the plane incident, but here I am, shopping for decorations for the fashion show, you know, finding birds and shit… and I see this on the cover of a magazine?” She reached in her bag and threw the scandal sheet at him. “Explain,” she ordered.

Kurt bent down and picked up the crumpled sheet gaping at the cover. It was a picture of Kurt and Blaine drinking alcohol at the restaurant they went to last night. In bold letters it wrote, “Hummel Drinking off the Stress?” Kurt sighed lightly watching Blaine’s picture closely. His curls falling free, head tipped back in a laugh with a beer in one hand. He looked so happy, unlike this morning. His eyes welled in tears as he looked up at Quinn. “What’s going on?” she asked sternly.
“Quinn, you have to promise you won’t think of me any different when I tell you,” Kurt said quietly.

The woman’s face softened as she took the magazine from his hands, “It’s okay, you can tell me”.

Kurt breathed in deep, took Quinn’s hand, and led her to the couch to sit down. Once they settled, he cleared his throat blinking rapidly. “I think I really like him,” he said not looking at her.

“Tell me something I don’t know,” Quinn chuckled.

Kurt dropped his head trying to bite back a smile; he groaned and looked up at the grinning assistant, “Q, I’m serious!” Kurt laughed, taking the magazine and hitting her with it playfully.

“Okay, okay, I get it. You’re having an emotional breakthrough!” Quinn giggled taking Kurt’s hand, “Go on”.

So he did. He told her of the candles, the dream, the drinking, the kiss, the not-so graphic detail of the oral sex, and the fight. Was it a fight? Judging by the amount of tears sprung onto Kurt’s cheeks, it sure felt like it. “So, why am I not surprised?” Quinn stated squeezing Kurt’s hand.

“Why do you keep saying that?” he asked looking at her curiously.

“Oh, Kurt wasn’t it obvious?” she asked releasing his hand.

“Wasn’t what obvious?” Kurt froze.

“I see the way he looks at you, all dazed and love-y-,”

“He does not love me,” Kurt interrupted.

Quinn let out an abrupt laugh, “You’re really that oblivious?” she chuckled.

“Please explain” he said blankly.

The woman sighed and crossed her arms, “This isn’t fun when you order me around-,”

“Do you want the Balenciaga Handbag in Vintage Patchwork Lambskin or not?” Kurt asked flatly.

“Ugh, fine,” Quinn mumbled. “Blaine has been hopelessly in love with you ever since he saw you. You were too dumb to notice”.

“You don’t that, you- you never even talked to him then”.

Quinn shook her head, “Kurt, you didn’t have to talk to him to know. He would stare and blush at you all of the time. Oh, and when you sing, his face is priceless,” she laughed, “he’s lost in Loveland when you sing. It’s almost like he melts around you. But whenever you’d blow him off for a date, he’d get upset, stare at anything but you, try to leave, you know. Have you ever wondered why he came here after he read about you in the newspaper?” Kurt shook his head waiting for her to continue. “The feelings that he had for you came back. I mean, why else would he travel for two hours to see an old high school friend? He still loves you, and by how you explained the fight you had this morning, he probably feels bad that you had to consume alcohol and do something stupid to realize that Blaine Anderson is more than a friend”. Quinn sighed and smoothed her skirt, “Why are you crying?”

Kurt shook in tears biting his lip and pulling at the blanket, “I’ve been asking myself that all day,” he sobbed. “But you’re right. I- I’m a wh- whore,” he stammered.

“No, Kurt,” Quinn soothed, pressing a hand on the man’s shoulder, “Yeah, you slept around but as long as it wasn’t like that with Blaine, then you’re not at all”.

Kurt laughed and let out a short sob, “Obviously since I’m crying about it”.

Quinn licked her lips absently then cleared her throat, “Just- just don’t break his heart”.

Kurt dropped his head and wiped his tears, “I won’t”.

Quinn smiled, “Okay,” he returned the smile then stood from the couch.

“I should probably talk to him,” he said watching Quinn stand up as well.

“You should probably get dressed first,” she laughed.

Kurt looked down at the blanket and blushed, “Oh, right”.

The assistant patted him on the back and slung her purse on her shoulder, “I’ll finish the shopping with the organizer-,”

“Ugh, Ryan?” Kurt scuffed rubbing his eyes.

Quinn paused to sigh then shook her head, “I know, but, we need him. Anyways, I’ll finish the shopping while you get the day off. You’re an emotional wreck, but tomorrow, back to work”.

Kurt nodded and pulled Quinn into a tight hug, “Thank you, Q, I don’t know what I’d do without you”.

Quinn pulled away and smiled, “Well, you know,” she joked flipping her hair and left the hotel room. After the elevator ride, she turned into the lobby spotting Sebastian strutting across the marbled floor. “No, no, no,” Quinn called furrowing her eyebrows spinning the man in the opposite direction he was walking and pushing him out of the hotel by the shoulders, “Kurt’s in love, leave him alone”.