Chapter nine- why oh why can't i?

hey blainey, you there?

...

blaine?

ive been meaning to tell you where i was for winter break

i was researching

about dalton

...

blaine, if you turned off your phone, you need to turn it back on

RIGHT

NOW

blaine, please?

please answer me, blaine

this is really important

...

i know i shouldn't have puhsed you into the party

i'm sorry

okay?

i'm sorry

i didn't mean to piss you off

...

did somtehing happen at the party, blaine?

i really need to talk to you

please text me back

...

i'll call the house, then

i don't mean to be annoying but

this is really, really important

i know you dont like talking about dalton

but i just want you to listen

is that okay?

...

blaine, i

well

never mind

i guess i'll just call the house

home

i'll call home

*

Blaine is in a bed, a soft, comfortable, warm bed, that smells of some flowery scent that makes him drowsy—poppies. And Kurt is near him, so all is good. Right? Right. Kurt?

KURT—

"Oh good, you're awake," Kurt says, heaving a sigh of relief. He scoots his armchair closer to the bed and winces at the squealing sound that it makes on the hardwood floor. "We need to talk, Blaine."

No fucking duh.

"Just not right now, obviously," Kurt continues. "How long did Dave and his gang even beat you up for? You're covered in bruises and some are like an hour more fresh than the others."

"How do you know?"

"I'm taking forensics this year," Kurt says, rolling his eyes. "Boring as hell, but I needed the credit. Plus it turns out it comes in handy when you have to drag home bruised and beat up friends." He raises an eyebrow playfully, but Blaine is stuck on the last word.

"We're... friends?"

Kurt gives him an uncertain, grimacing expression. "I mean—I just—assumed, I know it's been a really fucking long time, but, well, I guess—never mind. It's just—wishful thinking." His blue eyes swivel to the floor, and, for the first time in his life, Blaine reaches out for Kurt.

"Kurt," he says, meaningfully, patiently, stretching his battered arm carefully and slowly towards Kurt, whose eyes travel from Blaine's hand up his arm to meet Blaine's eyes.

*

Kurt:

Eyes that remind me of a drink, hot chocolate, late Sunday afternoons with my mom, eyes that make me sad. But they're Blaine's, and they're beautiful. Just like he is.

*

"I'd like us to be friends, too."

Kurt heaves a little stuttering breath and says, "B-B-Bl-Bla-Bl-B—goddammit."

"Kurt," Blaine says, so quiet that the name is almost under his breath, floating out into the space between Kurt and Blaine and breaching the gap. Kurt takes Blaine's hand and squeezes it once. His fingers unfurl like the petals of an awakening flower and they extend to caress the smooth, soft skin over Blaine's pulse. Kurt's eyes slide closed and Blaine realizes that he's trying to time his breathing to Blaine's.

They don't say anything. No words are needed for this.

*

Cooper:

Blaine was missing, but now he's not. Because I told Mom and Dad where he is. Because I know that if Blaine is lost, he's only lost to Mom and Dad. Because Blaine is found, with Kurt.

*

Quinn:

I need Kurt. I need Kurt now, but I can't have him. I only have my memories left. God, I want Kurt, I need Kurt, where is he? It doesn't matter, Q, it doesn't matter. It will be—no it won't—you'll survive—no you won't—he'll just—no he won't—I'm helpless. I'm utterly helpless. I can't do anything. But I can give up. Right now. I can't even breathe—live—get out—fly free—I need a little more strength, ha. Maybe I'll go jump off a fucking roof! ...Well... Maybe I will.

*

Cooper:

I didn't tell anyone that I'm back in town. I needed to find Dalton on my own first, find out what had gone on, what's going on. God, this makes me sick. But I need to do this. I owe it to Blaine—for all the times I wasn't there, I'll be there now. Don't worry, Blainey. I'm not just calling, I'm driving. And here I am—there's no place like home—and there's a shadow on Dalton's roof.

*

Quinn:

I know Santana and Brittany are in love. I knew it all along. I was just trying to have someone of my own for once. But even my baby is gone. Puck and Lauren have gotten back together. Kurt is with Blaine. I have nothing. I have nothing, and it doesn't fucking matter.

*

Kurt:

At last, I have Blaine back. I don't know what to do, though. I don't want to overstep. But his parents will be here in an hour, and we need to talk.

*

Cooper:

That's not a shadow. That's a girl. Dalton is an all-boy's school, so why the fuck...?

*

"B," Kurt says gently, breaking the silence. "We have an hour before your parents come and pick you up. Is there anything you want to say?"

Blaine looks at Kurt suspiciously. If he's talking about their kiss, then, as far as Blaine's concerned, the subject is closed.

"If you mean about the party," he says, avoiding the word kiss, "I'd rather not."

Kurt shakes head at once. "No, no, I meant... just... about what's been going on, I guess. Not what happened at Dalton if you don't want to, but what happened because of it?"

Blaine can't look at Kurt. He takes a shaky breath and releases it as Kurt's thumb traces over his knuckles.

"Okay," he says.

*

Quinn:

I don't matter.

*

Cooper:

I need to get up there right now, oh my god. I don't know much about this but I know that people, especially girls, don't just stand on the roof of an all-boy's school without intentions. Intentions of jumping. Jumping and falling.

*

Quinn:

Jumping... falling... there is no in between.

*

Blaine is talking so fast that his tongue is tripping over his words, but they won't stop coming. He tells Kurt about the blackness and the garden and the movie and the red, and Kurt stays quiet until the end.

*

Kurt:

The Wizard of Oz was the first movie that Blaine and I ever watched together. He doesn't remember that, but he remembers the story. And oh, god, Blaine's story... I'll never forget his story as long as I live.

*

Finally, he has to stop. Not because he's out of breath—he could keep going forever if only his words could come. But Blaine is out of his story. He's told it from the moment he came home from Dalton right up to now.

He doesn't know how to end it. So he reiterates, "I'm just—I'm just trying to not matter to people, Kurt."

Kurt has been looking at him intently for the entire duration of the conversation (though he'd dropped his eyes and blushed when Blaine had told him about the side effect of seeing Kurt at the party). Now he scooted his chair even closer to the bed, pulling his knees up to his chest so that he could make the chair's legs press against the mattress. "B, if there's one thing I learned from that awkward-ass sex talk that Burt gave me after I came out, it's that you always matter." He puts their clasped hands over his knees and props his chin on top of them. Blaine's fingers are one of the few places on his body that is not bruised. "Look, no matter how much you don't want to, there's always someone who you matter to. Always."

"I hope not," Blaine says, before he can really think about what he's saying. "I hope no one cares about me."

"I do."

Blaine doesn't know what to say, and Kurt leaps out of the chair and practically runs from the room. It takes Blaine a moment to register that this is because the doorbell has rung, and not because he's ruined things with Kurt forever.

At least, he hopes not.

"Blaine, are you well enough to get up?" Kurt calls from the front room, and Blaine notices that his body is kind of wrapped in ice packs.

"Uh, can the ice come off first?" he yells back.

Kurt tromps back into the room wearing knee-high black boots that are laced kind of sloppily and with different color laces. "Sure. Want any help? I told your parents to wait in the foyer."

"Wait, my dad's here?" Blaine says, surprised. Kurt smiles tentatively.

"Yeah. By the way, you don't have to talk to him if you don't want to."

"I know," Blaine replies, a little confused as to why Kurt is telling him this. Then he realizes that his dad is probably wanting explanations. Fuck.

"Here," Kurt says, and holds Blaine's arms as he clambers out of the bed and the ice packs fall off as he does. "It's okay," Kurt tells him when he tries to pick up the ice packs. "I'll get them later. Don't worry about it."

It's the first time that Blaine's ever been told to not worry since before Dalton interrupted his life. He smiles gratefully at Kurt—Kurt who is beautiful, Kurt who is kind, Kurt who comforts him, and Kurt who knows exactly what to say when he needs to hear it. Kurt who is his prince.

"I'm lucky to have you," Blaine says as they walk down the hallway. Kurt's hand is resting lightly on top of Blaine's, but as they get closer to the foyer, he pulls it away. Blaine knows because of his parents, not because of him. It's okay.

"Me too," Kurt replies, and gives Blaine a gentle hug, minding his bruises carefully. They're stopped right outside the foyer, and the hug only lasts half a second before Kurt is opening the door and leading Blaine out into the daylight.