Chapter 27: Say

The drive back to Lima was just as quiet as their journey to Columbus in the morning had been, only the reason for it had altered. Mrs Zimmerman’s news – and the unwelcome details she’d provided unasked – left Blaine in a state of utter confusion. He was going from pitying his father and wanting to see him to wishing him a long and painful death. And back again.

Once they reached the Hudson-Hummels’, Blaine excused himself and snuck upstairs.

‘Something happened?,’ Burt asked as the door shut behind Blaine with a soft thump above them.

Kurt hesitated before remembering that they all were family to Blaine, in a way.

‘His father’s dying. A neighbour told him when we went to his house.’

‘What is it? Cancer?,’ Carole cut in sympathetically.

‘From what she told us, it’s cirrhosis and it’s bad,’ Kurt replied quietly, gesturing for them to go on to the living room.

He slumped onto the sofa, hiding his face in his hands. The worst part of being with Blaine was how helpless he sometimes felt, unable to make things better in any way. Not the alters or the drama, just the complete inability to be of use.

‘When is he going to see him, then?,’ Carole asked as gently as she could.

‘I don’t know if he is at all.’ Burt exchanged a look with his wife, causing Kurt to add, ‘I don’t know if he knows it either. If I were in his shoes, I probably wouldn’t.’

‘You don’t think he should see his old man?,’ Burt said frowning. ‘I know it’s not a picnic between the two of them, but if the guy’s in a bad shape...’

Kurt looked up at him with resignation.

‘It’s up to him. Whatever he decides, I’ll stick by him.’

Carole sent him a weak smile and patted him on the knee.

‘He’s lucky to have you.’

‘It goes both ways.’

Kurt steered clear of their room for another hour, leaving Blaine alone with his thoughts. Each moment that passed without any sign from him, though, made Kurt increasingly worried. Blaine had to be checked up on, despite the strong possibility that if any of the alters showed up, they’d have made themselves known by now.

The door creaked as Kurt pushed it open.

‘Blaine?’

He was nowhere in sight. Kurt called him again, a little louder, shutting the door behind him and hurrying towards the bathroom.

Blaine was sitting on the closed toilet, a razor blade in his hand, his eyes fixed on the small metal object. He didn’t look up when Kurt burst into the room.

‘I didn’t do anything,’ Blaine said, watching the edge of the shiny blade. ‘I found it by accident and- I don’t know. I was just thinking- I don’t know what I was thinking.’

Kurt took a couple of cautious steps towards him and crouched down in front of him. Blaine finally raised his gaze at his boyfriend with a sad smile.

‘You said you wouldn’t let me do this again.’

‘I won’t.’

Gently, with tiny careful movements, Kurt unlocked Blaine’s fingers from the razor blade. Then he helped him up, leading him back into the bedroom.

‘Are you any better?,’ Kurt asked as they sat on the bed, arms around each other, inseparable.

‘Not really. I have no idea what to do or what to think. I’m changing my mind about this as soon as I make it up.’

‘I’m not going to tell you what to do. This has to be your decision, but-‘ Kurt’s voice trailed off for a minute, his hands stroking Blaine’s back absently. ‘As much as I’d want to hurt him for everything that he’s done to you, I think you should go see him. Even if just to tell him how wrong he’s done by you. Maybe it would give you some closure.’

Seconds seeped by without any answer, turning into minutes, making Blaine’s chest pang from the overload of memories and feelings that wouldn’t leave him be. If there was ever a decision that was more difficult for him to make, he couldn’t recall it. Even resolving to leave Kurt when he’d attempted it was easier. Only then it was love – pure and simple love – that drove him, aiding in the process. This time it was that strange combination of utter hatred and disgust, diluted with the most persistent kind of love and gratitude that accompanied him, providing him with anything but aid. Until now, he hadn’t even realised he had any positive feelings left in him for his father.

‘Do you really think it could help?,’ Blaine asked finally. ‘That it would help me move on, forget- whatever?’

Kurt shrugged with the shoulder where Blaine’s head wasn’t resting, and pulled his boyfriend closer.

‘I honestly don’t know.’

‘But you’ll be fine with whatever I decide?’ Blaine’s voice was almost pleading.

‘Whatever you decide,’ Kurt confirmed.

Silence fell again, the painful dilemma consuming Blaine from the inside out like acid. Something had to be decided. Something had to be done. What if Richard died without Blaine even getting a chance to tell him how much he screwed up his life? What if he really was in a bad enough shape that Blaine wouldn’t have another opportunity to say goodbye? Did he even want to say goodbye, or more like “Fuck yourself and die, you son of a bitch”?

For a moment, an image filled Blaine’s mind. His father, sick and skinny, wrapped up in a hospital bed, finally powerless and completely dependent on others. A look of guilt and misery entering his face as Blaine tells him that it was him, Richard, that killed Caitlin and Cooper. Not Blaine, not one bit was Blaine guilty.

He chased the vision away. It seemed to cruel to torture someone who was dying anyway, no matter how enormous and disgusting his crimes were.

Carole calling them to come down to dinner interrupted Blaine’s thoughts, but he didn’t make a move.

‘Come on, food might take your mind off of things,’ Kurt said, dragging his finger lightly along Blaine’s jaw, before kissing him quickly on the lips.

‘I’m not sure I can eat anything right now.’

‘Then I’ll get you some tea and make sure no one bothers you.’

With the weakest of smiles, Blaine nodded in assent.

***

Blaine kept on picking on his food, barely swallowing a bite of it. He could feel the concerned looks he was given. It was irritating to be the fragile child again, but at the same time it was somehow comforting to know he wasn’t alone in this.  Nobody forced him into conversation and nobody tried to convince him he should eat, so it wasn’t as bad as it could’ve been. Mostly he was left alone with his own thoughts, save for the looks.

When the dinner came to a lazy natural close, Carole dragged Kurt and Finn with her to the kitchen, leaving Blaine alone with Burt.

Suddenly, the atmosphere became tense, almost like the first night they talked back in New York. Blaine shifted in his chair, his eyes squared away from Kurt’s father. The napkin holder in front of him became unexpectedly fascinating.

‘You okay, kid?,’ Burt asked.

His big kind eyes were fixed stubbornly on Blaine, forcing him to look up.

‘Uh, no,’ he admitted. ‘I don’t think I am.’

Burt nodded slowly in a consideration. He didn’t think he had a good way with words, but sometimes there came these moments when things had to be said. It was never easy to say them, simply because they were never pleasant.

‘I may not know exactly what made you and your old man grow apart or what happened between the two of you, but there are moments in life when you have to put all your hurt in a box and give the person who hurt you a second chance. Or a hundredth. Because sometimes this is the last chance you’re gonna get.’ He paused for a second, searching his thoughts. He wasn’t even certain he knew what he was getting at. ‘I’m not saying your dad’s gonna make it all right all of the sudden. He might screw this all up completely. But if he does, if he lets this chance go to complete waste, at least you’ll know that you’ve done everything in your power to make this better.’

The room fell into a strange charged silence. For a moment Blaine felt like screaming, wishing to tell Burt how much he hated his father, how fucked up his life was because of that motherfucker. But he bit his tongue, letting the temporary rage seep away. There was no point in having a beef with father-in-law.

And he had to admit, there was a grain of truth in what Burt said. If Richard screwed it all up once more, one last time, Blaine could be able to finally stop beating himself up for hating him. Richard had been given chances before, multiple chances to redeem himself, to acknowledge his guilt, to admit that Blaine was sick, to make things right. But until now, he hadn’t been dying.

This chance, if given, would likely truly be the last one he could ever get.

‘Kurt didn’t tell you anything about my father?,’ Blaine asked.

‘No. He knows that if you wanted us to know, you’d tell us.’

Blaine nodded curtly.

‘I guess he’s right. Kinda. It’s not that I don’t want you to know, though, it’s just- tough.’

‘I get it, kid. And I wasn’t telling you all this to order you around. But speaking from experience, you don’t want to leave something unsaid. It’s better to get things off your chest while you still can, whatever they are.

Burt got on his feet, patting Blaine on the shoulder in passing.

‘Thanks,’ Blaine muttered. ‘Thanks for the advice.’

‘This is what family is for, kiddo.’