GreenOrnaments
Aug. 12, 2013, 9:56 a.m.
Unbreakable Bonds: Chapter 31
E - Words: 11,922 - Last Updated: Aug 12, 2013 Story: Complete - Chapters: 42/42 - Created: Nov 22, 2012 - Updated: Aug 12, 2013 236 0 0 0 1
Carson slowly opened up his eyes and blinked, letting them get adjusted to the early morning light that was currently streaming through his bedroom window. He didn't have to roll over and look at the digital clock beside his bed to know that he had woken up in just enough time to turn on his laptop and get on Skype before Kurt would begin to worry about him and start sending him "Where are you? Are you alive?" text messages. And if there was one thing that Carson hated more than absolutely anything else, it was making Kurt worry.
He yawned and rolled over, facing the still open laptop where it was resting in the bed from his Skype conversation with Kurt the night before. They had developed a routine, him and Kurt, in the past couple of weeks that they had been apart. They talked on Skype every morning as soon as they got up, and they did it again every night before they went to sleep, with lots of phone calls and text messages in the hours between. Carson had taken to keeping his laptop in the bed beside him rather than on his night table, so that it still sort of felt like Kurt was in the bed beside him, even though when every video chat was over he was left alone in his bedroom with nothing but a blank computer screen, one of Kurt's scarves to drape over a pillow and hug close to his body, and the framed photograph of the two of them that Kurt had given him for Christmas sitting on his bedside table, looking strikingly colorful and cheerful compared to its stark, bare surroundings. It was a crushingly lonely feeling for Carson, but at least the scarves helped. They still smelled strongly of Kurt, and that was something.
He reached his arm out lazily and quickly tapped at his keyboard, waiting for his laptop to come out of sleep mode and bring up the Skype window. A video call from Kurt was coming in not even five seconds after Skype automatically signed him in, and Carson smiled to himself as he clicked "Accept." Never late for a Skype date, are you, Kurtsie?
Kurt's face instantly filled the screen, making Carson's stomach flutter and his heart leap. These video conversations were the only things that he ever felt excited or joyful about anymore, and getting to look at Kurt and see his beautiful face was the best part of his day. He intended to savor it.
"Hi, Kurtsie," he said, settling his cheek against his scarf covered hugging pillow and settling his eyes on the laptop screen. He tried to make his voice sound as carefree and bright as possible. "Sleep well?"
Kurt yawned and smiled. He looked like he had literally just woken up, and Carson could see that he was still holding on tight to Carsey Teddy, the stuffed bear's eyes peeking out above the bulk of Kurt's arm. "I never really sleep well, Carsey," he answered softly. "Not without you. But it's ok. I know this isn't forever. What about you? How did you sleep?"
"Like a baby," Carson lied through his teeth. He'd rather eat glass than have Kurt know that oftentimes he lay awake half the night, staring at the ceiling and counting all of his flaws. All the ways in which he hated himself and was a disappointment to the world at large. All the ways in which he felt more like a burden, a cross that the world had to bear, rather than an active, useful part of society anymore. That he stared at the ceiling and sometimes wondered how in the hell he was supposed to make it through college feeling this way, let alone a career.
That he stared at the ceiling and wondered, with a sinking feeling of dread in his stomach, when Kurt was going to realize that he could do so much better than Carson. That he could have a real man who could give him things that Carson couldn't. Carson dreaded that day, but he knew it was coming. It had to be.
"Good," said Kurt. "I'm glad. You've been taking your pills, right?"
"Of course I have, Kurtsie," said Carson. "You ask me that every day."
"I know, but I worry and I like to make sure," replied Kurt, biting his lip. "Have you gotten any headaches?"
Carson shook his head. "Nope."
"Good," said Kurt again. "Got anything planned for today, or are you going to just stay put and enjoy your last few days of freedom before your classes start?"
"Actually, I have to go on campus today and go to the bookstore," replied Carson. "I haven't gotten my books yet, and I want to be prepared with them on the first day of classes. Otherwise, if we have to read anything I won't have a book and will have to share with someone. And you know how I don't enjoy talking to people unless it's to criticize them."
Kurt giggled. "I'm aware. But... Carsey, promise me you'll at least try to be a little bit social at school. I hate to think about you being all alone for a whole semester. Make a friend. Or two."
"I don't make friends," Carson said, turning his nose up in the air.
"Now, Carsey, that's not true," said Kurt. "You made friends with Satan. And that girl with the video camera from your journalism class."
"Malerie," said Carson.
"Yeah, her," Kurt agreed with a nod of his head. "So I know you're capable of being social."
"I'll try my best," replied Carson with a smile. "But no promises."
Kurt smiled. "Good. Oh, and, you know. No hot men. You're mine," he added with a wink.
Carson felt his stomach fluttering again as he reached out one finger to gently stroke the laptop screen where Kurt's cheek was. "Of course I'm yours, Kurtsie. You don't have to worry about that. My heart is always yours, no matter what."
The joyful smile that lit up Kurt's face seemed to make the whole room just a little bit brighter, even though he wasn't actually in it. "And my heart belongs to you, Carsey. Forever. You and nobody else, you can count on that." He leaned his face forward and Carson could see his lips touching the screen as he kissed it. "God, I wish I could kiss you for real. Can the semester be over yet?"
Carson laughed. "You have a wait ahead of you, Kurtsie."
"Shit," mumbled Kurt, yawning. "Well, when I get you back in my arms, I'm probably never going to let you go, so just be prepared for that." His eyes turned toward where Carson knew his clock was, and he groaned. "I have to get up and go to work. I don't want to. I want to stay here and talk to you all day and cuddle my laptop."
Carson gave him a smile and tapped the screen where Kurt's nose was. "Oh, come now, Kurtsie. Vogue needs you. You're very important. I'll call you later today, ok?"
"See that you do," said Kurt teasingly. "And be careful going to the bookstore. I don't know what the crime rate is over there, but I don't like thinking about the possibilities."
Carson snorted. "I'll be fine, Kurtsie. I promise."
"Talk to you later, baby," said Kurt, blowing Carson a kiss. "I love you."
"I love you, too," said Carson, sighing tiredly as Kurt hung up the video call and his beautiful face disappeared, leaving Carson with a blank screen. He shut the laptop and rolled back over, holding his pillow tight and burying his face in the fabric of Kurt's scarf, which was heavy with the scent of his twin's cologne. The very last thing he wanted to do today was get up out of bed and go out of the apartment, but he really did need to buy his books.
Ugh, lucky me. Another day to trudge through, he thought, feeling exhausted as he climbed out of bed, despite the fact that he had slept for at least ten hours the night before. There was no such thing as a normal sleep pattern for him anymore. He either slept for long hours at a time, or he didn't sleep for days (and it was generally the latter, because he found it extremely difficult to sleep at all without Kurt to hold onto). Not that it really mattered right now, he supposed, precisely because he didn't have Kurt around and therefore didn't really have the need to keep the appearance of a normal schedule. It would be a problem once school started if he didn't get a handle on it, though.
Maybe I should start taking sleeping pills at night, he mused as he shuffled his way into the bathroom. Then I could get on a relatively normal schedule. I don't know. He sluggishly turned on the shower and stepped inside, not even bothering to wait until the water warmed up first. He figured the freezing cold would snap him awake, but all it really did was give him goosebumps and make him shiver uncontrollably. He stood and let the warming water rush over him as he tried to mentally get himself motivated for the day ahead, even though the last thing he felt like doing was leaving the apartment.
Just go buy your books, Carson, he told himself. It's not like you have to go cross the Atlantic Ocean in a canoe. You just have to go on campus and buy a few books, and then you can go home. That would have been a slack day for high school you. He sighed as he thought of the crazy schedule he had kept at McKinley, and how doing even half of that now seemed impossible. He suddenly felt even more tired and listless.
Again, how in the HELL am I going to make it through college? he thought to himself miserably. He finished his shower and got out, shivering as he wrapped his towel around himself and headed back to the bedroom to get dressed. He threw on a T-shirt, a pair of jeans, and a hoodie, carefully placing his class schedule and the note that Kurt had written him on the morning of his first physical therapy session in the pocket. He never left the apartment without it. He supposed that was a little weird, but he felt like it brought him good luck, somehow. Plus, he liked carrying around something that Kurt had touched. He went into the tiny kitchen, taking his pills but deciding that he didn't feel like eating any food, and headed out the door as he grabbed a canvas bag and shoved his phone and his key in his jeans pocket, praying that he wouldn't run into Mrs. Moore today. He was so not in the mood to deal with her. Fortunately, he got past her door without incident. He shuffled into the elevator and pressed the lobby button as his phone vibrated in his pocket.
Hey, sexy. -K
Carson smiled down at the text message, dashing off a reply.
That's my line, quit stealing it. -C
Never. Have you left the apartment yet? -K
Leaving now. -C
Ok. Pleeease be careful. -K
I will, Kurtsie. -C
I know, I'm just being a worrier. Have fun. -K
I wouldn't jump right to 'fun.' -C
Oh, honey. :) Remember, NO HOT GUYS. Or guys in general. You and that hot ass of yours are mine. -K
Noted, baby. Not that you have to worry about that. -C
I know. I love you. ^_^ -K
Love you too. -C
Carson smiled to himself and stuffed his phone back in his pocket as he stepped off the elevator, thinking that maybe his day wouldn't be quite so bad. Try to be happy, Carson. You've got a good future. You've got the man you love waiting patiently for you in New York. You'll see him again in a few months. And in the meantime, you're on an exciting Chicago adventure. Forget your problems and try to enjoy your life, please.
Unfortunately, life or the universe or the cosmos must have sensed that he was trying to be positive and upbeat, because it saw fit to send a rain shower down while he was on his commute to the university bookstore. Carson promptly forgot all about being positive about life and instead focused on trying not to stop breathing from panic in the middle of a crowded bus.
It's just rain... just rain, just rain, you're fine, it's just... it's just a little rain, he chanted to himself, pulling his knees up to his chest and hugging them as he buried his face in them, hearing his pounding heartbeat in his ears. It's just rain, stop being like this. You're probably freaking out half the people on this bus, and you're going to be known as the weird guy who breathes heavily. What would Kurt think of you if he could see you now?
Thankfully, the rain had passed and so had his mini panic attack by the time he got off the bus, and by the time he had navigated his way to the bookstore, the sun was shining again. Small favors, he thought with a sigh as he pushed the door open and pulled his printed out class schedule out of his pocket.
"Can I help you find something?" asked a bored looking female employee. Carson shook his head.
"No, thanks. I've got it," he answered her, taking his schedule and resolving to find his books himself. How hard can it be? he thought to himself. Indeed, it wasn't very hard at all, and soon he had an armful of heavy textbooks he was required to have for each of his classes. Jesus Christ, what the fuck are these things made of? Bricks? he thought, starting to feel exhausted from lugging them around. There was just one more book to find, and then he could go home.
Let's see, he mused, browsing the aisles and looking down at his schedule. He found the aisle he was searching for and sighed as he came across a group of three guys gathered around talking and laughing in the middle of it.
"Excuse me," he said, trying his best not to sound as irritated as he felt as he waited for them to move. They either ignored him or didn't hear him, since they didn't acknowledge him and just kept talking, so he cleared his throat and tried again.
"Excuse me!" he said, a little louder and more irritated this time, and the guys gave him dirty looks as they passive aggressively moved only enough to barely let Carson pass. He heard one of them mutter "Rude" under their breath, and he had to seriously resist the urge to lay into him and verbally hand him his ass back on a platter. You're trying to be positive, Carson. For Kurt. Kurt likes positive people. If you're going to live your lives together, maybe you should try to be more like the sort of person he likes. He sighed and found the book he was looking for, carefully adding it to the pile and preparing to head for the cash register when he felt the all-too familiar tingling feeling in his hands again.
Oh no...no, no, not here, please...
His silent plea went unheeded, for suddenly he lost all feeling in his hands and watched as his enormous pile of heavy books tumbled to the ground, scattering everywhere with a series of loud thumps. The group of guys stopped talking and turned to stare at him, and Carson could just imagine what they were thinking, looking at the pathetic guy in front of them holding his shaking, numb hands out in front of himself while he stared helplessly at the pile of fallen textbooks. What a freak, they were probably thinking. Look at him, just staring at his fucking books like a dumbass. What, he forgot how to pick them up? He tried to flex his hands, willing the feeling to come back to them as quickly as possible so that he could get the fuck out of there, and thankfully it only took a few seconds for the numbness to relax into tingling. It wasn't full feeling, but he would take it. He bent down and started clumsily trying to gather up the books.
"You drop your books, bro?" asked one of the guys with a snort, and his friends laughed at his lame joke as Carson's face burned from humiliation. Ignore them, Carson. Just ignore them, they're not worth it.
"Things must be picking up for you, huh?" another guy said, receiving more uproarious laughter in return, and Carson gritted his teeth as embarrassment and irritation flooded his very being.
"Fuck you," he muttered as he finally managed to gather the rest of the books and stood back up. The guys apparently thought this was the most hilarious thing ever, because they laughed louder as Carson stalked over to the cash register, grateful as hell that he wouldn't ever have to be seen in that bookstore ever again. He could feel them staring at him and whispering behind his back, and he practically flew out the door after he had paid for the books, barely managing to hold himself together during the bus ride back to his neighborhood.
But when he had gotten back to his apartment, put his pajamas back on, and had crawled back into bed, trying to stave off another anxiety attack as he heard drizzling raindrops patter against his window, he realized that there was nobody around to hold himself together for. Kurt wasn't there. He wouldn't see if Carson fell apart a little. He wouldn't see if Carson shook and had trouble breathing as he covered his ears against the rain. He wouldn't see the few small tears that trailed down his face as he wished for the rain and for this whole fucking day to just disappear and be erased from history.
Thank god he's not here, he thought as he hugged the pillow draped with Kurt's scarf and breathed in, trying to lull himself to sleep. He's not here to see me like this, and I'm grateful for that. I don't want him to see me like this. Not now. Not ever.
Eventually, he fell into a fitful, restless sleep, tossing and turning as images flooded his mind. Memories. He saw himself in Kurt's bedroom in New York, and there was Kurt, and... they were fighting? But he and Kurt never fought... what would they fight about? He saw himself crying and storming out of the bedroom, out of the apartment, in fact, and Kurt screaming after him, begging him to stop. Carson, stop... why aren't I stopping?... Kurt, baby, I hear you, I'm sorry, I'll come back, I promise. I just have to get myself to stop... I want to stop... STOP!
He woke up in a sweat, his breathing ragged and tears streaming down his face. He felt absolutely awful and he had no idea why. He didn't know if he had just had a dream or if he had recovered more memories from the night of the accident. His instinct told him it was memories, but he wanted so badly to believe that it was just a horrible nightmare. It had to be. He would never cry in front of Kurt. He would never fight with him or make Kurt plead with him to come back. He never wanted Kurt to sound like that, not ever.
I'm sorry if I fought with you, Kurtsie, he thought miserably, gathering his Kurt pillow in his arms and hugging it tight. I didn't mean it... I love you so much. He bit his lip and debated whether he should just ask Kurt what went on the night of the lightning strike. Maybe that would be easier than constantly regaining memories piece by piece, half of which didn't even make any fucking sense. No, he decided to himself. I won't make Kurt relive that night. I won't make him remember how awful it must have been to... to see me... I mean, if it had been him who had been struck and I was in Kurt's position... fuck, I don't even know how I would have managed. And I don't want to saddle him with MY stupid problems. That's the last thing I want. This is supposed to be his break from me, from the absolute burden I've become. Who cares what happened that night? It's in the past and can't be changed, and remembering it won't really help, will it?
So when he had Kurt on Skype that night and his boyfriend asked him how his day had gone, Carson took a deep breath and put on his bravest smile.
"It was good, Kurtsie. Really... really good," he lied through his teeth.
"I'm glad," replied Kurt, a smile spreading across his face, and Carson gulped at how stunningly beautiful he was, laying across his bed on his stomach with his too-large sweatshirt falling off his shoulder, exposing the smooth, porcelain skin Carson loved so much. He longed to touch him. "I missed you today," Kurt continued. "I actually smiled like an idiot at the pencil I was using to take notes during one of Isabelle's interviews because it reminded me of how adorable you were in your little pencil costume at Homecoming."
Carson snorted. "Yeah, I was real adorable, alright. I was so adorable that everybody laughed at me."
"Aw, but baby, I wasn't laughing," said Kurt with a smile. "And nobody else should have been, either. You were the cutest little number two pencil I had ever seen."
"You're too kind," said Carson.
"I'm accurate," Kurt corrected him. "Did you find all your books that you needed?"
"Yes," said Carson quickly, not particularly wanting to remember his visit to the bookstore. "I'm all set for the start of classes on Monday."
"Good," said Kurt with a smile. "God, Carsey, I really can't wait until you're back here with me. You have no idea how many times a night I wish I could hold you."
"I know, Kurtsie." Boy, did he know. "We'll be together again soon enough."
They chatted for a few more minutes about inconsequential things, and Carson smiled to himself when he saw his twin yawn sleepily.
"You should go to sleep, Kurtsie," he said. "You look exhausted."
"I am," Kurt agreed. "But I want to talk to you. Don't like going to sleep without you."
"I know, baby," replied Carson. "I... I wish I could cuddle you. I miss you."
"Miss you, too," yawned Kurt, and Carson could see him holding on to Carsey Teddy.
"Give Carsey Teddy lots of hugs, and I'll feel them here," said Carson, smiling at how adorable Kurt looked, half asleep already and holding the teddy bear to his chest. "And then when I get back to New York I'll hug you extra tight, ok? Now go to sleep."
"Ok," agreed Kurt. "I love you."
"I love you, too."
"Good night."
"Good night."
They ended their call and Carson sighed, turning away from his laptop and hugging his pillow to his chest, letting the familiar smell of Kurt wash over him and fill up his senses.
I just hope that I still have you to come back to at the end of the semester, he thought as he lay awake in the dark bedroom. That you haven't finally realized that you can do better than me.
If Kurt had to describe in one word what life was like when he was now so far apart from Carson, he would probably have to say sucks. He absolutely hated everything about it. He hated that he couldn't snuggle against Carson's warm skin in the morning when he first woke up, couldn't bury his nose in his hair and breathe in the familiar, comforting scent of him. He hated that he couldn't kiss him at night before they drifted off to sleep holding onto one another. He missed Carson's snark, and his inappropriate jokes, and his new found way of pouting when he wanted something that Kurt was convinced would harm his recovering health.
And most of all, he hated not being there to help take care of him. He wanted to be by his side and make sure he was still recovering well. He wanted to make sure that he was eating and sleeping and taking care of himself and not cutting his hands on broken plates. He wanted to be there and make sure that Carson was ok, that he was alive and breathing, that he hadn't been snatched away from him in the dark of the night, as had almost happened that dreadful night of the lightning strike, the night that had robbed his beloved twin of so much.
And it was all my fault, he often thought to himself. If I had told Blaine sooner to leave me alone, none of this ever would have happened. He wasn't sure whether to count himself as lucky that Carson still didn't seem to remember what happened that night, or whether to feel guilty for purposefully not telling him. He knew there was a possibility that Carson would remember everything one of these days, and Kurt secretly hoped that day would never come. Sure, he would explain everything, but just the thought of seeing the hurt, sad look that had been on Carson's face when he had seen Blaine kiss him... it was too much. Kurt never wanted to see Carson sad enough to cry ever again, and if that meant not telling him why he had been outside to be hit by lightning, well... he supposed it wasn't really harming his twin for him to remain quiet.
So he focused on counting down the months until this temporary separation would be over and he could see Carson again (and hold him and kiss him and never let him go). He kept himself busy at Vogue, doing whatever tasks Isabelle set down for him and giving them all his effort and focus to keep his mind off of how much he missed his boyfriend. It was certainly a better distraction than listening to Rachel moan endlessly about how mean her dance instructor at NYADA was to her.
"She's a nightmare," Rachel was fond of saying with disgust on the mornings she had dance class. "I swear, she saves up all her negative energy just for me, and if I wasn't so confident and poised, I would really tell her where to shove it."
Kurt let her talk, but never really listened to her. Personally, he thought Cassandra July was pretty cool, and that if she had a problem with Rachel specifically, then... well, he didn't want to sound like a jerk, but Rachel had probably done something to piss her off. It wouldn't be the first time she had gotten on the bad side of a teacher, after all. Not that he said this out loud, even though the temptation to do so was certainly there. Things between him and Rachel had been just a little bit frosty ever since he had walked in on her yelling at Carson over the broken bowl, even though she had apologized and even Carson himself had apologized (begrudgingly) for breaking it in the first place.
"So, are you coming to Lima with me this weekend or what?" she asked one morning as Kurt sat eating his Frosted Mini Wheats and reading the news on his phone.
"Huh?" he asked, looking up. He hadn't really been paying attention to anything Rachel had been saying for the past ten or so minutes.
Rachel rolled her eyes. "For the play," she said irritably, and Kurt almost choked on his cereal. He had completely forgotten until now, but the conversation he'd had with Rachel and Miss July in the NYADA dance studio a few mornings ago suddenly came flooding back to him, clear as day. McKinley was putting on Grease for the glee club's play this year, and Rachel had decided that she just had to go in order to see Finn, who was helping to direct it and whom neither she nor Kurt had heard much from in months, other than a few Facebook messages asking after Carson's health. Miss July had quickly offered Rachel the use of her frequent flyer miles (a little too graciously, Kurt thought, considering that she supposedly hated Rachel, but he didn't really care enough to question her motives).
"I don't really feel like going, Rachel," he replied calmly through a mouthful of Wheats. "I have a lot of work to do at Vogue, and it's not really a good time." Not to mention that the last thing in the world he felt like doing was running into Blaine, which would be inevitable, since his ex-boyfriend was in the play.
Rachel pouted. "But Kurt, I don't want to go by myself," she whined. "It's been forever since I saw Finn, and it will be so awkward. Besides, don't you want to see Blaine? You haven't seen him since... well, you know. That night at the piano bar."
Something about what Rachel said vaguely nagged at Kurt, but he couldn't quite put his finger on what it was. If only she knew, he thought, trying to withhold the snort that threatened to escape.
"Rachel, Blaine and I are done," he said, turning off his phone screen and taking his cereal bowl to the sink. "I don't need or want to talk to him." You have NO idea how much I don't want to talk to him.
"Well... ok, fine, but don't you at least want to see our old friends?" she wheedled. "And spend some time with our families?"
"I can't, Rachel. What if something happens to Carson and he needs me?" asked Kurt, washing his bowl and putting it on the drying rack.
"So what if something does?" she asked, crossing her arms. "Are you any more help to him here than you would be in Lima? He'll be fine. And besides, you can't avoid going home forever just because of Blaine, so... please come with me? Please?"
Kurt sighed, thinking it over. She did have a point. He would have to go home at some point. He couldn't avoid it forever, and he did really miss his glee club friends who were still McKinley students. It would be nice to see them again. And he could still drop everything to go to Chicago if Carson really needed him. Besides, Ohio is closer to Chicago than New York is, Kurt. Come on.
"Well..." he mused out loud, regretting it almost immediately when Rachel gave a joyful shout and threw her arms around Kurt.
"Thank you, Kurt!" she said happily, giving him a kiss on the cheek, which he wiped away with a disgusted face. "We should start to pack, and I'll book the earliest flight I can find for Saturday."
Joy, thought Kurt as he set the table back the way it was pre-breakfast. Now how the hell am I supposed to avoid Blaine?
He didn't tell Carson that he was going to see Grease. He didn't want his twin worrying over the fact that Blaine would be there, especially since Kurt planned to avoid him as much as possible anyway. He simply told him that he was going home for the weekend, and that Carson shouldn't hesitate to call him if he needed anything.
"I'm serious, Carsey. If you need anything, I will be on the first plane to Chicago, ok?" he asked him over Skype the night before he left.
"Kurtsie, I'll be fine," Carson assured him. He looked tired, and Kurt hoped that he was getting enough sleep, what with all his classes and his physical therapy appointments, not to mention the vast amounts of homework he must be bringing home each night. "You go. Have fun. Give Dad a kiss for me, and say hi to Carole."
"I will," Kurt promised. "Are you ok, Carsey? You look tired."
"Oh, um... yeah, I'm just... school is really demanding," said Carson. "Lots of homework and stuff. I barely have time to think, let alone sleep."
Kurt frowned. "But you're ok, right? Your headaches? Have you gotten any of those lately?"
"No," Carson assured him. "Not recently...oh! But look!" he exclaimed excitedly, maneuvering himself in front of the webcam and unzipping his hoodie to show Kurt his bare chest. "Look what's almost gone!"
Kurt peered closely at his twin's chest, grinning as he realized that the vine-like lightning scar that had been there before was almost all the way faded. "Carsey, that's great!" he squealed. "Oh, but aren't you terribly disappointed, though? I know how much you liked it."
"Are you kidding?" asked Carson. "Disappointed? No. The less reminders I have of the lightning, the better. And between you and me, I can't wait for you to touch the skin again now that it's not all scarred and gross."
"Oh, Carsey," said Kurt. "It was never gross. But yes, I can't wait to touch it again, either. Scar or no scar."
"I love you, Kurtsie," said Carson with a yawn. "I want you to go to sleep now, and call me the second your plane lands in Lima tomorrow, ok? You know how I worry."
Kurt laughed. "I'm aware. And I will, I promise. I love you."
"I love you, too."
Kurt spent much of the plane ride the next morning trying to strategize how he could see the play with minimal to no contact with Blaine. It wouldn't be easy, but he was determined to do it. He didn't trust himself not to blow up at him for everything he had caused, and he didn't want to make a scene on his friends' big night. By the time he arrived at his house, he had decided to just arrive a little bit late and leave as soon as possible, leaving no time to run into Blaine at all. He supposed he could always hang out with his friends at some point over the weekend.
"Hey, kid," said Burt happily as he answered the door and wrapped Kurt up in a hug. "How are you holding up?"
"I'm fine," Kurt lied. His father didn't need to know that he almost hadn't even come at all because of Blaine. Or that he missed Carson so bad that it hurt.
"How's your brother?" asked Burt. "I try to call him, but he never says much. You know how he gets."
"Carson's doing well," Kurt assured him with a smile. "We talk on Skype every night. He's a little tired, but he says he has a lot of schoolwork, so... I don't know. I'll be happy when he's finished his transfer over to New York so I can keep an eye on him." And other body parts... not that you need to know that.
He settled his things into his and Carson's old bedroom, letting memories wash over him as he sat on the bed. Mostly they were memories of all the time that had been wasted in that room. When Kurt thought of all the times he could have been wrapped up in Carson's arms as a lover and not just a brother, it made his stomach clench. How the hell could I have been so stupid? he thought to himself. All that I put him through... and for BLAINE, of all people. I just... god, Carsey, I'm so sorry.
He didn't have very much time to sit and reflect, however, before Rachel was letting herself into the house and marching up to his room as if she owned the place. "Kurt, come on, the play is going to start soon, and I want to get a good seat," she ordered, looping her arm through his and practically dragging him out of the house and into the car she had rented. Kurt sighed, feeling more like he was on his way to a funeral than to a school play. Just remember, Kurt, you don't HAVE to talk to him. He'll complain and want to talk, but you owe him nothing. All that matters now is you and Carson, and your relationship with him. Blaine is nothing anymore, especially after the abhorrent way he has treated you and Carson, and he needs to realize this. Just go, see your friends, and ignore him.
This turned out to be much easier said than done. The play was beautifully performed, and Kurt had to admit, he enjoyed it a lot, but he could easily have done without Blaine performing "Beauty School Dropout" and casting looks at him in the audience that Kurt knew damn well were meant to be "I'm sorry, please forgive me" eyes. Fat chance, Kurt thought bitterly, stewing in his seat. You almost cost me the man I REALLY love, and that is something I will never forgive you for, no matter how much you beg. He couldn't help but wonder if Blaine was taking some kind of special joy in the song, like it was meant as a shot at him.
"You're not cut out to hold a job, better forget it..."
Fuck you, Blaine.
He was relieved when the song mercifully ended and he could go back to enjoying the rest of the play, but his relief was short-lived, because wouldn't you know it, Blaine was right there in the hall waiting for him and Rachel on their way out of the school when the play was over. Rachel left to give them time to talk, and Kurt wanted to cling to her and demand that she not go any damn where, because he did not want to be left alone with Blaine, but she was already out of sight before he could think of a way to tell her this. Fuck.
"I'm not interested," he said to Blaine, turning away and beginning to walk down the opposite end of the hallway. Where he was going, he had no idea, but he knew that he simply could not talk to Blaine right now. At least, not without punching him in the face, and he couldn't really do that here.
"I never told you about... what happened," Blaine protested, following him down the hall. "The guy that I hooked up with... I need you to know everything."
Kurt rolled his eyes. Seriously? He's bringing THIS up? Instead of, oh I don't know, apologizing for trying to take advantage of me in an emotional state in that hospital? Jesus Christ.
"What are you going to tell me?" he asked hotly, turning around and glaring at Blaine. "That it wasn't serious? That you only made out? That you didn't care about him?
"I didn't care," Blaine said, but Kurt wasn't finished. Now that he could feel the anger bubbling up inside of him, he was going to let it out come hell or high water.
"Do you think any of that matters to me?" he asked. "Relationships are about trust, and I don't trust you anymore. So, if this is some stupid, misguided attempt to get back together with me, again, you can fucking forget it, Blaine, because it's not going to happen. And furthermore, you have some nerve even trying this right now. I thought I made my feelings perfectly clear in the hospital that I wanted you to leave. Me. Alone. I didn't come here to see you, I came here to see my friends. Maybe it was a mistake and I shouldn't have come at all if you can't take a hint. You and I are done, Blaine. Done. You got it?" He turned back around and stalked down the hallway, knowing even without looking that Blaine was probably staring after him with a confused puppy look on his face.
Not my problem. Fuck him, he thought bitterly as he found the back entrance of the school and pushed the door open. He couldn't wait to get home and talk to Carson.
"Hey, Hummel!" he heard a familiar voice shout, and he looked over to see Santana waving at him, still in her Rizzo costume. Come to think of it, he had been wondering why in the hell she was even in the play since she was no longer a student, but he figured it was some unexplainable glee thing.
"Hi, Santana," he said, trying to sound pleasant. "You, um... you did well tonight."
"Thanks," she said, giving him a tentative smile. "Um... how's Carson doing?"
"He's doing fine," answered Kurt. "Actually, I'm about to go home and talk to him."
"Mmm, I bet," said Santana with a sly grin. "Gonna be getting your sweet twin Skype kisses on, are we?"
Kurt rolled his eyes. "Not really in the mood for jokes right now, ok Santana?"
"Fine," she said with a sigh. "Will you tell him I said hi? I try calling him, but he never answers my calls."
"Yeah, well, he's busy," Kurt murmured. "He has school and stuff. I'll tell him you said hi, though, ok?"
"Ok," said Santana, waving as she headed back into the school. "Bye."
"Bye," said Kurt, heading to the parking lot and to Rachel's rental car, where she was already waiting for him in the driver's seat.
"How'd your talk with Blaine go?" she asked.
"Just take me home," Kurt muttered. He didn't say a word the entire ride, and he practically flew into the house and up the stairs the second he arrived home, throwing himself down on the bed and signing into Skype on his laptop. Please be online, Carsey. I know it's not our usual time, but I just really need to talk to you right now, baby.
Thankfully, Carson's face filled the screen seconds after Kurt had placed the call, and Kurt breathed a sigh of relief. "Hi, baby," he said, smiling as he instantly filled with happiness at the sight of his love. "How are you, honey?"
"Tired," said Carson, yawning. "How's Lima?"
"Oh, well, you know..." said Kurt, waving his hand dismissively. "Same old shit. It'll be weird sleeping in our old room by myself. I wish you could be here to hold me like you used to."
Carson smiled. "Me too, baby. Bed's really cold without you."
"Aaaw," Kurt cooed sympathetically. "I'll be with you to warm you up soon enough. By the way, Dad says hi. Oh, and so does Santana. She says you never answer her calls."
"Yeah, well. I'm busy," said Carson. "And besides, all she ever does when we talk is make lame twincest jokes."
Kurt snorted. "That figures. Are you going to bed soon? You look like you could use the sleep, sweetheart." Carson really did look tired, and it worried Kurt a little.
"Yeah," said Carson. "I am, I promise."
"Good," said Kurt. "I want you to take care of yourself and don't work so hard that you forget to sleep." He talked to Carson for a few more minutes, ordering him to get a good night's rest before exchanging "I love you's" and closing the call.
Just a few more months, Carsey, baby, he thought to himself as he settled into their old bed that night, holding tightly to Carsey Teddy. Just a few more months and this will all be over and we'll be together again, just like we should be. He drifted off to sleep dreaming of the day when he would be able to cuddle close to his twin in their own shared bed in an apartment all their own.
Soon.
The passage of time, far from alleviating Carson's problems, only seemed to serve to make them worse, unfortunately. He had thought that surely he would have gotten some relief by now from his anxiety attacks every time it rained, not to mention his general default moods of hopelessness, melancholia, and just plain blah. He had thought that starting his fall semester classes would distract him enough that either his problems would go away or they would be less noticeable to him. Unfortunately, time was doing him no favors and he felt even worse, if that was possible.
It wasn't school itself that was making it worse. Of that he was sure. He was actually doing quite well academically, as well he should have been, considering that he had literally nothing else to do with his time other than devote it entirely to his studies. He was passing every one of his classes with flying colors, which he knew that Kurt was proud of him for, and that his father was happy to hear about on the few occasions that Carson talked to him over the phone.
He had tried taking Kurt's advice to be more social, signing up for a few clubs and hoping that they would be both a distraction from his ever increasing anxiety and a source of... well, not friends, exactly, but certainly casual acquaintances. But no such luck. He just felt terribly awkward when he had to be around people in a non-classroom setting, especially people that he didn't know all that well, and especially people that he couldn't help but feel were looking at him and judging him for being such an anxious freak when he had to quickly excuse himself when it rained so that he could go rock himself in the corner of the bathroom until the panic in his chest passed and he could breathe again. So much for being social. I'm sorry, Kurt, I just can't do it. Add it to the laundry list of reasons why I'm a failure of a person.
His new physical therapist in Chicago, Dr. Harris, kept suggesting to him that he should consider seeing a psychiatrist for his anxiety problem. "If it's bothering you that much, therapy could be very beneficial," he insisted. "It could help you get to the root of your anxiety so that it can be treated and you don't have to suffer anymore."
Thanks, but fucking no thanks, Carson thought to himself every time the subject was brought up. I don't need a fucking psychiatrist, ok? It's just a panic attack every now and then. It's nothing I can't handle on my own. I don't need THAT kind of doctor, I just don't. He shuddered to think what Kurt would think of him if he had to go see a psychiatrist. Surely that would be the thing that finally convinced him that he's wasting his time with Carson when he could be with a man who wasn't battling with a whole host of problems. And I can't handle that, I just can't.
But his anxiety was getting worse. Much, much worse. He checked the daily weather reports religiously, and if it called for rain, he didn't leave the apartment for any reason, not even to attend classes. He didn't care if he was marked absent. He was a good student, and he was more than able to keep up with the missed work. Fortunately, it didn't rain often enough for missed class to be a major issue. When it did rain, it was awful, especially if it did it all day. He was pretty much relegated to his bed with the covers over his head until it stopped, gasping for breath, with a terrible tightness in his chest, a pounding heartbeat, and an almost certainty that he was going to die. Sometimes he wished that he could die, just to end the suffering. But still, he didn't see how a psychiatrist could help with that. They were just panic attacks. Panic attacks were common, right? All he really had to do was learn to calm himself down and he would be fine. At least, he hoped so. He refused to let Kurt see him like this, so he had to figure out something, and soon.
Kurt was the entire reason that he decided to stay home for Thanksgiving rather than go home to Lima. He just couldn't take the chance of it raining while he was there. He couldn't risk a panic attack in front of Kurt, because he knew that the second Kurt saw one happen, he would be scared and then he would be worried, and the one thing Carson hated was making Kurt worry. So, going home for Thanksgiving was out. The only trouble would be coming up with an explanation to Kurt why he wasn't going home.
It certainly wasn't easy. He just barely managed to convince Kurt that he was far too busy with his schoolwork to go home for Thanksgiving, and even then, Kurt had insisted that he would come to Chicago for the holiday instead of going home.
"You can't be alone on Thanksgiving, Carsey," he insisted. "I won't let you. I'll come to Chicago and we'll have our own little Thanksgiving, ok?"
"No, Kurt," Carson protested. "Really, it... you should go home and not worry about me. I'm really fine, I promise. I'm just really busy and there's so many projects to get done before the end of the semester. It's really much better if I stay and get them done."
"But Carsey," Kurt started to argue, stopping when Carson shook his head.
"Kurtsie, if you come here, you'll just sit around bored while I work, and I will not allow you to have a terrible holiday on account of me," Carson said firmly. "Besides, we have our whole lives ahead of us to spend Thanksgiving together. One skipped year won't kill us."
"Well," said Kurt, thinking it over. "I... I just hate to think of you all alone on a family holiday, baby."
"I know, honey, but it's really not that big of a deal," said Carson, glad that he was managing to hide how he really felt. He would have loved to spend Thanksgiving with Kurt and their family, because he missed Kurt so badly that it physically hurt, but he knew that it wasn't an option. He couldn't have an attack in front of his twin. He just couldn't.
Thankfully, Kurt finally, reluctantly agreed to spend the holiday apart, and Carson breathed a sigh of relief. He had spared Kurt from the possible horror of seeing him lose his shit over a drizzle. Progress. If you can call that progress.
Kurt, as it turned out, ended up staying in New York with Rachel (at Rachel's insistence, apparently) for Thanksgiving, so Carson supposed that maybe that made him feel just a little bit better about missing spending the day with him. He may have been missing his boyfriend terribly, but he found it a little comforting to know that at least he wasn't missing out on tons of privacy and alone time with him. He would have to speak to Rachel about her unhealthy need to make Kurt do things with her that he wasn't crazy about, though. That shit couldn't go on.
Carson spent Thanksgiving Day on the couch in his pajamas, watching holiday TV specials and waiting anxiously for the rain that he had read was supposed to arrive by the late afternoon. It was early evening now, and so far, nothing had happened, but he knew it was inevitable and that he would certainly be spending a lot of time that night hunkered down in his bed with a heart that felt like it was ready to explode out of his chest. He wasn't looking forward to it at all.
The ringing of his phone interrupted his thoughts, and he answered it immediately when he saw Kurt's smiling face on the caller I.D. screen. "Hi, Kurtsie!" he said into the phone, trying to sound cheery and not at all depressed.
"Hey, Carsey," came Kurt's voice on the other end of the line. "Happy Thanksgiving, baby."
"Happy Thanksgiving," Carson replied. "Even though I don't know how happy it could possibly be for you, considering that you're spending it with Trollberry. Is it just awful?"
"Well... it's interesting," replied Kurt carefully. "Isabelle is here and she brought along a bunch of her friends and I guess we're having a kiki."
Carson frowned in confusion. "What the fuck is a kiki?"
Kurt giggled. "It's a party, Carsey. Just a party. It's not really that much fun, though. Not without you here."
Carson resisted the urge to sigh sadly. "I miss you, Kurtsie."
"I miss you, too, baby," said Kurt, blowing a kiss into the phone. "How's your schoolwork coming along?"
"Great," Carson lied. "I've, um...been super busy with it, but yeah. It's coming along fine."
"Good," said Kurt. "And hey, next Thanksgiving we'll be together and we'll have our own little apartment and we can have a domestic argument about the proper way to cook a turkey."
Carson snorted. "Oh, Kurtsie. You're cute. Like I would argue with you about turkey cooking. You're the one who watches all those cooking shows on the Food Network, not me."
"This is true," agreed Kurt. "Hey, I've got to go, Rachel is looking pissy. I'll talk to you on Skype later, ok? Before we go to sleep?"
"Ok," said Carson. "Miss your face."
"Miss your lips," replied Kurt, blowing one more kiss into the phone before hanging up. Carson smiled, a smile which lasted only a brief second before he heard the last sound in the world that he wanted to hear. A crack of thunder sounded outside, and Carson swore that his heart actually stopped beating for a minute, his blood freezing in his veins and his head pounding out the sound of No, no, no, oh god, no, please...
A second thunderclap sounded, and Carson jumped up off the couch and ran as fast as he could toward the bedroom, diving into his bed and pulling the covers up over his head. He had never been this scared before, never, not even when he was five and went through that brief phase where he was scared of clowns and then had been forced to endure one performing at Rachel's birthday party. That had been bad, but this was much, much worse. Every clap of thunder reminded him that he had been hurt, that he had been damaged, and that something as simple as going outside could end up being deadly.
Stop, stop, please, fuck, make it stooooop, he begged in his head as it started to rain. Please, if it stops I'll be better, I'll be nicer, I'll help my fellow fucking man, just please make it go away, I can't handle this, oh god... He felt the walls of the room closing in on him, and the ceiling and floor, too. They were all closing in, preparing to crush him, and there was no escape. His heart was pounding so fast and so loud that he legitimately thought that either he would have a heart attack or that his heart would simply wear out and stop beating. Or explode. He tried taking deep breaths, which wasn't easy at all, considering that breathing even at a normal pace was proving extremely difficult for him.
Please... please stop, I can't handle this. I can't. I'm going to break.
He closed his eyes and held his hands over his ears, desperately wishing for it to stop, but it didn't. A particularly hard clap of thunder made him start shaking like a leaf in his bed, and his head filled with visions... visions of a night so many months ago when he...
Wait. Oh god, he remembered. He remembered everything. Every goddamn detail was as crystal clear as day. He couldn't believe he had gone so long without recalling it. He saw himself and Kurt on Kurt's bed. They were going to make love, and then... yes, the knock on the door. He remembered it all. Blaine. Yelling at Blaine. Beating Blaine. Kurt sending him to the bedroom while he attended to Blaine's wounds. He remembered peeking out of the bedroom, and...oh god... he remembered Blaine and Kurt kissing for several long, heartbreaking seconds before he turned away and began packing his bags.
That was what the argument had been about. Fucking Blaine. Carson felt sick to his stomach. It all made sense. It all made so much fucking sense, why Kurt put up with so much from him. It was because Carson had been a rebound romance, and after the lightning strike he had felt sorry for him and he... he didn't want to break up with him while he was...
Carson rushed out of bed just in time to make it to the bathroom, where he vomited violently into the toilet as his heart kept pounding and his chest continued to tighten. He threw up everything he had in him (which wasn't much) and then slumped, exhausted and scared, into the corner of the bathroom, hugging his knees to his chest and allowing himself to let go and cry, because nobody was around to see him do it.
So that was it. Kurt put up with him because he didn't want to break up with him while he was in a delicate state. It made perfect sense. Carson should have suspected all along that Kurt was never really over Blaine. If he was over him, then he would have told Carson from the start what had happened that night. True, Carson hadn't wanted to know, but still... if he had wanted to, would Kurt have told him? Or would he have continued to try protecting Carson from the truth? Oh god, Kurtsie, I'm so sorry, baby. I'm sorry for making you put up with me for so long and for not giving you any time to get over HIM. It's all my fault, I should have KNOWN, I should have sensed what you really wanted, but... but I...
He threw up once more into the toilet and realized, as the rain finally stopped and he collapsed onto the floor, that he would need to talk to Kurt about this sooner or later. He just wasn't sure how. Because as much as he wanted to give Kurt his freedom, he also didn't want to hear the truth from Kurt's own mouth. It would hurt too much, and then Carson might really break.
"I don't know what to do," he said out loud in a small, quiet voice shaking with tears as he buried his head in his knees.
He did nothing with his new found realization for weeks. He continued calling Kurt every morning and every evening on Skype, blowing kisses and exchanging "I love you's" and "I miss you's" and "I'll see you soon's." He said not one word about Blaine, even though everything in his being screamed at him to. He just didn't think that he could handle it if he heard Kurt actually admit out loud that he had never intended to stay with Carson forever. Maybe it was selfish of him, but he knew that the breakdown he would have from that might never get any better. Plus, he didn't want to put Kurt on the spot and force him to break up with him. Kurt would feel terrible, which in turn would make Carson feel terrible, especially since Kurt had recently passed his second audition for NYADA and would be starting as a student there in the spring. He was so very happy, and Carson was so very proud of him. He didn't want to spoil it for Kurt by bringing everything up.
Still, though. This just went to show that Kurt was going places and moving on up in the world. If he stayed with Carson out of a sense of obligation, what did Carson have to bring to the relationship? What could he give Kurt that another man couldn't give him better? Carson was an anxious, unstable mess with periodically numb hands and a fear of thunderstorms. How could he possibly be good enough for Kurt? How could he live with himself knowing that he was dragging Kurt down?
Something had to be done.
Christmas that year turned out to be one of the worst Christmases of Kurt's life. That wasn't an understatement, either. If he never had to remember the Christmas of 2012, he certainly wouldn't complain, because it would go down in his personal history book as the Christmas his heart broke in half.
It started off on the wrong foot when Carson called at the last minute before the holiday and informed him that, just like Thanksgiving, he wouldn't be coming home for Christmas. He offered no explanation when Kurt disappointedly asked why, only that he was "busy." Kurt had swallowed the lump that had formed in his throat and sadly accepted his twin's words, only putting in a token protest of "I can come to Chicago, Carsey," even though he knew that Carson would insist that he not do that. And he was right.
"No, Kurt, I... I'm just really busy, sweetheart, and... it's best if you just don't come. I'll... I'll see you after the new year, ok, baby? I love you. You... you know that, right? That I love you so much."
"I love you too, Carsey," Kurt replied. There was something off about Carson's voice, something that worried Kurt and made his bones ache with a sense of foreboding. He tried to ignore it. Carson was just busy, that was all. After all, the semester would be over after the holidays and it would be time for him to move back to New York to be with Kurt. Maybe he was busy with preparations for that, Kurt told himself, wanting desperately to believe it.
So, with no Carson for Christmas, and with his father and Carole having booked a holiday vacation, he settled in for a quiet holiday in New York alone. Quite literally alone, because Rachel was going on a cruise with her fathers and wouldn't be around. He supposed he could deal. It was just one more holiday, and then all the rest of them for the rest of his life would be spent with his Carsey. He tried to cheer himself up and make the best of it.
He might have been able to, actually, except for the fact that Burt showed up out of the blue on Christmas Eve to surprise him, and while Kurt was happy to see him, it really only served to remind him that Carson wasn't there, which only ended up making him sadder as he sat down that night to exchange gifts with his dad. He had given Burt a NYADA cap, and Burt had instructed him to pick up his gift at the Bryant Park in the city. It had seemed odd, until Kurt realized halfway there, with a joyful leap of his heart, that his gift had to be a person and not a thing.
Oh god... oh god, could... could it be... did he bring him? Is Carsey here?
Kurt practically flew the whole rest of the way to the park, almost knocking down several pedestrians on his way in his hurry to reach it, but he didn't care. Of course! It made so much sense! That was why Carson had sounded weird over the phone. He didn't want to spoil the surprise, and he had never been a particularly good liar when it came to lying to Kurt. He had to be there. He had to be Kurt's present.
Kurt arrived at the skate park, breathless, and began looking around hopefully, searching for the familiar blue hoodie so that he could smile and then yell at Carson for wearing nothing but a hoodie in such freezing weather and what the fuck was wrong with him, and he needed to put on a real coat, and come on, Carsey, we're going home right now and you're going to drink all the hot chocolate I give you to warm you up.
He was so busy looking for Carson that at first he didn't realize that the familiar voice shouting "Package for Kurt Hummel!" was directed at him. Because no, that... he couldn't be here. That was impossible. Surely his dad wouldn't... Oh god, HE can't be my present, he just can't...
Well, yes. Yes, he could. Kurt turned around to discover that Blaine Anderson really was standing there, and he really was meant to be Kurt's present. He stood there saying words that Kurt only half heard, because in his mind all he could hear was Carson isn't here... he's still in Chicago... he really DIDN'T want to come home for Christmas, and I... I don't understand. Is he ok?
"You're happy to see me, right?" Blaine asked, his voice cutting like a knife through Kurt's thoughts.
"Yeah... always," he answered sarcastically.
It only got worse from there. Kurt felt extremely uncomfortable being around Blaine in his own home on a holiday that should have been only about family. Specifically, Carson. He missed him even more now than he had before his dad had shown up, and all he wanted was to scream at Blaine to get out and, yes, he had a huge problem with him auditioning for NYADA next year, and for the love of God, stop acting so fucking chummy with his dad. He wondered how his dad could do this to him. Sure, he didn't know why he and Blaine had broken up, and he surely didn't know that he and Carson were involved, but still...
WHY, Dad? Why would you give me my cheating, abusive ex-boyfriend for Christmas? I just... WHY?
Little did he know that it could get so much worse.
The time had come, Carson decided. The fact that he had seen a brand new photo posted to Kurt's Facebook wall the day after Christmas, posted by Blaine and featuring him and Kurt skating cozily in the middle of a New York City skate park, was the last straw. As he hugged his knees to his chest and cried, he realized that he had to do something. He couldn't, in good conscious, allow himself to drag Kurt down any further than he already had if Kurt never really wanted to be with him in the first place.
And if Kurt wouldn't break up with him, then, well... Carson was going to have to take matters into his own broken hands.
It was one of the hardest phone calls he ever had to make in his entire life, especially when Kurt picked up the phone with a breathless "Carsey! Baby, I miss you so much, how are you, honey?" Carson swallowed the lump in his throat and reminded himself that this was for the best. That he was doing it over the phone and not in person or over Skype so that Kurt wouldn't be able to see his face when he cried. So that he couldn't see Kurt's face when he cried, because it might make him lose his resolve.
That this was what was best for everybody, if Carson gave Kurt his freedom.
"Hi, Kurtsie," he said, trying to keep the emotion that he could already feel building out of his voice. "Um...I'm good. How, um... how was your Christmas?"
There was silence on the other end for a minute before Kurt answered. "It was... ok," he said finally, and Carson closed his eyes at the realization that he wasn't going to mention Blaine. "Pretty uneventful. How was yours."
"It... it was fine...um... Kurtsie, can... can we talk?" he asked, figuring that he should get right to the point and get the worst of the pain over with, like ripping off a Band-Aid.
"Carsey, are you ok?" asked Kurt, his voice suddenly full of concern, and Carson almost chickened out right then and there, but he steeled his resolve and continued with his plan. He had to do this. For Kurt. Even though it would hurt Carson like nothing ever had, not even that damn lightning bolt.
"I... um... Kurtsie, I..." he began, not quite knowing how to finish that sentence, because he knew that once he did there would be no turning back. "I..." It's for the best, Carson. I know you don't want to do this, but you have to. You're holding Kurt back. He deserves and WANTS better than you, and only the fact that he has a big, loving heart is keeping him from what he deserves. Give him his freedom.
"Carsey?" asked Kurt again, his voice quiet and cautious. "Baby, what's the matter? Why didn't you come for Christmas?"
"Kurt, I... I don't think that we should... that we should d-date anymore," Carson blurted out, his voice trembling only once. "We... we shouldn't be boyfriends anymore."
There was silence once more on the other end, so quiet that Carson at first thought he had lost the call, but then he heard Kurt's voice, so soft it was hardly above a whisper.
"You don't mean that, Carsey," he said, and Carson could hear that he was struggling not to cry. "You're joking, right? You think you're being funny? This... this isn't funny, Carson, come on."
Carson bit his lip and willed himself not to cry as he shook his head, even though he knew Kurt couldn't see him. "No, Kurtsie, I'm not joking, honey. I..." He took a deep breath and launched into the speech he had prepared ahead of time, the speech that he thought would hurt Kurt the least and make him feel the least guilty. "See, Kurt, I... I've decided that I really like it at Northwestern and that... that it would be best for me if I finished out my college career here. And...and I can't really be your boyfriend if I'm not going to be there, you know, so... I'm letting you g-go." He stopped talking to compose himself before he started crying, only to realize that someone was already crying.
"Carsey, no," Kurt said through his tears, and Carson could just picture him, probably sitting on the bed with the phone, his pretty blue eyes welling up with tears. "Carsey, you... no, you can't do this, I don't care if you want to stay at Northwestern... please, we can figure out a long-distance thing, I swear we can, you don't have to come here, just... please, baby, you can't... I... I love you..."
"Kurt..."
"Carson, no! That's... that's no reason to break up! I love you, Carsey. So much, more than you will ever know, and I... I think you love me... oh god..."
"Kurtsie," Carson interrupted, dangerously close now to tears. "I just..."
"Why?" Kurt sobbed. "I thought that we had something really special. Why do we need to throw that away just because of distance? I mean... oh god please, you don't understand, I can't lose you, I just... I thought..."
"Kurt, I'm sorry, but I just.... I can't do this anymore," Carson said, hating himself for doing this to the love of his life, even if he knew that it had to be done. "I can't be your boyfriend anymore."
"Carson, no! Oh god, please!" Kurt pleaded. "I don't... oh god, Carson...please don't do this to me...."
"Kurt, please stop making this harder than it has to be!" Carson exclaimed, using a much harsher tone of voice than he normally ever would have dared to use with Kurt, stunning his twin into silence. Oh god, is this what it takes? Is this what it will take to make him drop it and let me set him free?
"Carsey," Kurt whispered pleadingly. "I love you."
"Kurt, STOP!" Carson yelled, hating himself for yelling at Kurt like this, but if that was what it was going to take to accomplish his goal, then he would do it. It's for the best...oh god, it's for the best...hurt him to save him...
"CARSON!" screamed Kurt. "NO! I'm not going to let this happen, you can't..."
"I can do whatever I want!" Carson retorted. God, WHY won't he let me set him free? "I'm not going to let this relationship continue when I..... when I...." His voice shook with every word, and by the time he had reached the end of the last sentence, he was fully crying and hating himself even more for falling apart like this and for using such a harsh tone with Kurt when this was supposed to be quick and clean. It wasn't supposed to be this complicated.
"Carson, please," Kurt sobbed.
"STOP IT, KURT!" Carson screamed. "JUST STOP IT! We're not... we're n-not b-boyfriends anymore."
"CARSON!" screamed Kurt. "Carson..... don't you love me?"
"I'm sorry," Carson sobbed quietly as he hung up the phone. He sunk down the wall of his room and onto the floor, clutching the phone in his hand, and cried. It rang, and Kurt's face filled the caller ID screen, but he didn't have the strength to answer it. He declined it and turned the phone completely off, tossing it aside before he crumpled into a heap on the floor and sobbed. He sobbed like he never had before, like it was coming from the depths of his very soul. Like he was crying out all of his energy and life force until there was nothing left. He sobbed so hard that he very nearly threw up, managing not to but choking and spluttering even so. He sobbed for what felt like hours, until he had no tears left, until every last part of his body, from his skin to his bones, was dead tired and exhausted.
I'm sorry, Kurt. It was for the best. For your own good. You're free now. You don't have me to deal with anymore.
I did it because I love you.
Please don't hate me.
I love you.