Chapter Ten:  You Deserve the World

Sunday October 21, 2012

He finally met Burt’s eyes and dissolved into tears at what he saw there. Disappointment reflected in Burt’s eyes. Kurt couldn’t take it. He slid off of the hospital bed, trying to block out the pain that was quickly overwhelming him. He said, “I’m sorry. I can’t . . . I just can’t.”

And before anyone could say another word, Kurt turned and ran out of the room.

Blaine took off after Kurt without so much as a look at the others. His only thought was finding his fiancé before he inevitably broke down completely and possibly hurt himself. Blaine saw Kurt run into an empty hospital room and followed him.

“Oh, baby,” Blaine said as he entered the room.

Kurt had collapsed into a heap on the floor. His hands were gripping his hair, pulling at it as sobs tore from his throat. Blaine sat on the ground, wrapping Kurt up in his arms. Kurt whimpered.

“He hates me,” Kurt managed to speak through his tears.

“What! He doesn’t hate you! Your father would never hate you!” Blaine said in surprise.

“You didn’t see the way he looked at me. He’s so disappointed,” Kurt cried.

“Baby, he may be disappointed but that doesn’t mean he hates you,” Blaine said.

“This is why I didn’t tell anyone,” Kurt mumbled. “I knew you’d all hate me.”

“No one hates you, Kurt. I could never hate you. Nothing you do could ever make me hate you; even if you did some horrible thing, I will always love you,” Blaine said, pressing a kiss to Kurt’s hair.

“I don’t deserve you, any of you,” Kurt sniffled.

“You deserve the world, Kurt Elizabeth Hummel,” Blaine said earnestly. “And I know you’re hurting, but you can’t push it away. You have to feel or you’ll never get past it, Kurt, you know that. You have to let it hurt.”

“I don’t want to. It’s too much,” Kurt said. His breath quickened.

“Shush, just breathe, baby; just breathe,” Blaine said soothingly. He rocked Kurt slowly as he began to sing.

7:42 in the morning,

8 seconds before it all sinks in.

Put your best face on for the world.

Fake another smile and just pretend.

But you're just puttin' off the pain.

Nothing's ever really gonna change.

Time and time again, Kurt had been reminded that by hiding behind a mask he only pushed the pain away to deal with another day; and he would have to deal with it one day. But Kurt was too used to running from his feelings. In the end he only prolonged his pain by putting it off.

So let it hurt, let it bleed.

Let it take you right down to your knees.

Let it burn to the worst degree.

May not be what you want, but it’s what you need.

Sometimes the only way around it

Is to let love do its work.

And let it hurt.

Yeah, let it hurt.

Kurt knew he was only delaying the inevitable pain but that didn’t make it any easier to stop pretending he was okay. He had spent too many years doing just that and the saying was true:  old habits die hard; especially when he had started cutting in the first place to deal with the pain. Now whenever he felt pain he reached for the blade, which ultimately helped him run from the suffering once again.

3:28 in the morning,

Countin' up the spaces between the rain.

You're gettin' used to the rocks at the bottom.

Your heart goes numb, but the lonely stays the same.

And that's the price you're bound to pay.

And there's really nothing anyone can say.

Oh, there's only just one way.

For too long Kurt’s world had been devoid of colors. A dark cloud had descended over him and it seemed it was there to stay. The problem now was Kurt was used to it. He was used to the depression, so much so that if there was a rare day when he wasn’t feeling depressed he didn’t feel right. So the depression stayed the same; the loneliness stayed the same. The only way to move past both was to feel.

So let it hurt, let it bleed.

Let it take you right down to your knees.

Let it burn to the worst degree.

May not be what you want, but it's what you need.

Sometimes the only way around it

Is to let love do its work.

So go on.

Yeah, let it hurt.

Kurt just wanted to be okay. Everything had fallen apart once again and he just wanted to glue it together. He wanted it to stay together and never break again. But even if he did manage to find a way to fix things, he wasn’t confident things would stay that way.

You might just find you're better for it;

When you let go and you learn

To let it hurt, let it bleed.

Let it take you right down to your knees.

Oh . . .

Sometimes the only way around it

Is to let love do its work.

So go on.

And let it hurt.

Oh, let it hurt.

7:42 in the morning,

8 seconds before it all sinks in.

The song came to an end. Kurt didn’t move. Blaine finally pushed him back slightly, tilting his head up so he could see his face.

“Are you all right?” he asked.

“Yeah,” Kurt answered. He had stopped crying but unshed tears glistened in his eyes. “I’m so sorry, Blaine. I’m so sorry.”

“I know, love. And we’re going to get you help. Now, let’s go see if your dad is ready to go,” Blaine said, standing up. He pulled Kurt to his feet, holding him close for a moment before leading him from the room.

“I’m sorry,” Kurt said the instant he entered his father’s hospital room. He avoided Burt’s eyes, knowing he wouldn’t be able to take it if he saw disappointment there still.

“It’s okay, son. We’re going to get you help,” Burt promised.

Blaine sank into the chair beside Burt’s bed, pulling Kurt down onto his lap. Kurt cuddled up to his chest. Burt watched the two of them with a fond smile. Blaine craned his neck to press a kiss to the top of Kurt’s head.

“I see you two worked everything out with your ‘discussion,’” Burt said with a smirk, eyeing Blaine’s neck.

Blaine’s cheeks burned scarlet, clamping a hand over his neck to hide the hickey Kurt had left that morning. Kurt couldn’t stop himself from giggling. Blaine glared at him.

“I told you he’d notice,” Blaine grumbled.

“Of course I noticed; it looks like you lost a fight with a vacuum cleaner,” Burt chortled. Blaine shifted uncomfortably underneath Kurt. “Relax, son. I’m glad you two are okay.”

“You’re n-not going to k-kill me?” Blaine stammers.

“Of course not! You’re going to be my son-in-law, Blaine. And while most fathers would see this as giving their son away, I don’t. I’ve already gained another son. You take care of my son; you make him happy in a time when joy is rare for him. That’s all I could ever ask for, Blaine.”

A lump formed in Blaine’s throat. He was unable to answer. Instead he graced Burt with a watery smile, pressing a kiss to Kurt’s shoulder. Kurt squeezed his hands where they were clasped over Kurt’s belly. Things weren’t okay; they were far from it. But Burt was going home; Kurt was going to attend therapy. Maybe, just maybe, things would get better sooner rather than later.

K/B

Monday October 22, 2012

Kurt shifted uncomfortably under the weight of Dr. Madsen’s gaze. He knew she was examining him closely, her keen eyes taking in the fat of his stomach, his ghastly pale complexion, and the sagging skin of his biceps. Kurt wished the sofa on which he saw ramrod straight would swallow him whole.

“It’s been a while since we’ve seen each other, Kurt. How have you been?” Dr. Madsen asked.

“Fine,” Kurt answered automatically, habitually.

Dr. Madsen looked at him knowingly. Kurt fidgeted in his seat nervously. He wished she would stop peering at him over the top of her glasses.

“Do you really mean that or are you hoping that if you say it enough it will become true?” she finally asked.

Suddenly, Kurt’s hands became incredibly interesting. Dr. Madsen nodded, scribbling away on her clipboard before she spoke once more.

“That’s what I thought,” she said. “I know pretending makes it easier to deal with the pain but in the end you’re only running away from the inevitable.”

“You think I don’t know that?” Kurt snapped. “Don’t you think I would give anything to not feel this way; to not have to resort to this?”

Kurt wrenched up his sleeves, exposing his heavily marred forearms. If Dr. Madsen was surprised she hid it well.

“Do you believe self-injury is your only option?” she inquired.

“It’s the only thing that works,” Kurt said.

“But is it worth the risks?”

“I’m careful.”

“What about Blaine? Your dad?”

“What about them?”

“Do you ever stop to think about how your self-harm affects them?”

Kurt’s mind flashed back to the day Blaine and Cooper had found him in the shower with blood streaming from his veins. He remembered the shock on Cooper’s face and the panic in Blaine’s voice. Fast-forwarding to two nights previous, he remembered the anguish that filled Blaine’s eyes as Kurt’s skin was bared to him. And then yesterday morning, the disappointment that darkened his father’s countenance.

“How do you think ti makes them feel?” Dr. Madsen asked.

“I know how they feel,” Kurt answered.

“Yet you continue to do this to yourself,” she stated.

“I do this for them!” Kurt exclaimed. “It keeps me from doing something worse.”

“You mean killing yourself.” It wasn’t a question but what came next was, “Are you suicidal?”

“I’m not trying to kill myself but if I died it wouldn’t be such a tragedy now, would it?” Kurt asked bitterly.

“It would be to me, and to Blaine, your dad, Rachel, Finn, Carole. Your dad already lost his wife. Would you make him lose his only son as well?” she asked softly, knowing she was treading on a sensitive topic.

“Dad has Blaine and Finn. He doesn’t need me,” Kurt answered sadly.

“Suppose that is true, then what about Blaine? You’ve said once before he was your soul mate.”

“He still is!”

“In that case, what do you think your death would mean to him? If your roles were reversed, could you bear to lose him?” Dr. Madsen asked.

“Of course not. Blaine’s . . . Blaine’s everything. If I lost him . . .  I couldn’t survive that,” Kurt said softly.

“Then why would you put Blaine through the same?” she questioned. When Kurt didn’t answer she changed the subject. “Have you been eating properly? You’ve lost quite a bit of weight.”

Kurt furrowed his eyebrows. Why was she lying to him? He was fat, disgusting. Kurt could hardly stand to look at himself; he didn’t know how anyone else could bear to.

“My appetite is fine,” Kurt replied tersely. “I haven’t lost any weight.”

“Then you won’t mind if I weigh you,” Dr. Madsen said.

Kurt’s eyes widened. Why would she want to weigh him? Was she trying to embarrass him?

“I. . . .” he tried to think of some excuse but there was none. Reluctantly, he gave in, “Okay.”

Dr. Madsen guided him to a bathroom scale in the corner that Kurt had never noticed before. HE took a deep breath before stepping onto it. He didn’t want to see what it said. After several seconds 130.6 pounds flashed on the screen. Dr. Madsen frowned.

“Kurt, you’re borderline underweight. If you lose any more you’ll be in dangerous territory.”

Kurt didn’t speak. He didn’t agree with her in the slightest. He was far from underweight. He needed to lose at least thirty more pounds. Dr. Madsen knew when Kurt was shutting down. With a sigh she walked back to where she had left her clipboard. She picked up a prescription pad and wrote on it before tearing out the page.

“I’m going to up your dosage for your antidepressant. I’m also referring you to Andrew Sawin in Manhattan. He’s a good friend of mine; you can trust him,” she said, holding out the paper to Kurt. “It was good to see you, Kurt.”

“You too,” Kurt muttered before walking out of the office.