The Proper Way to Make the Leap

In my own experience, alcohol helps. A lot...

"Okay, this is just uncomfortable," Cooper said as he stared horrified at the television screen, watching as the woman on it worked her hand over an ear of corn. I couldn't help but agree.

As Santana promised, it got worse.

The music that came on was bad enough. Some kind of elevator music crossed between whatever music you might play to accompany a 900 pound woman making a show of hiking her skit halfway up her thigh while licking her lips, which we'll say are covered in canker sores. That's really the best way I can describe it because, honestly, I don't even know. It was just that bad.

And as far as the image on the screen, if forced to choose between the 900 pound woman from my audio analogy and the two shit-terrible actors on screen moaning like porn star wannabes and tonguing at each other's mouths around the ear of corn while popcorn exploded everywhere, I honestly don't know which I would have picked.

Cooper waved his hands in front of his face like a maniac. "I pick the woman, I pick the woman!" he shouted, his face all twisted up.

I rolled my eyes. Take that as evidence that I was not the drama queen in the family.

He covered his eyes with both hands. "It needs to be over now. I can't take it, oh my god, I can't take it. God, Blaine, turn it off!"

I ignored him and let it continue playing, knowing that in five minutes he would change his mind, which he did eventually, cracking himself up so hard at particularly bad show of acting that he had tears rolling down his face. "Ohmigod. Best. Movie. Ever," he declared, sounding breathless and wiping tears from his eyes.

Without taking his eyes off the screen, Cooper reached in the tub of Bazooka gum to grab a new piece and spit out his new one. "So, this is a tad random but, about Kurt..."

"Cooper," I started but he spoke over me.

"...his ability--well, okay, you're right; ability isn't the right word--his condition is interesting."

I sighed. He wasn't going to let this go.

"Nope," he said, "so you might as well humor me."

"Fine. What about it?"

He shrugged. "Nothing, just that..."

The second the word 'nothing' left his lips, his truth fired off in my head, correcting the unintentional lie and mixing with his spoken words so that it was impossible to hear anything specific over the jumbled cacophony of sound. Cooper's truth wasn't exactly unpleasant, but it was damn loud and the sheer volume of it made my face screw up.

That was Cooper for you, always needing to make sure he was heard. At least being a mind hearer meant that he was forced to listen to his own loud mouthed truth too.

He grimaced when it was over. "Sorry."

I snorted. "Sure, you are."

In a spectacular show of maturity, he stuck out his tongue at me. "It's not like I can control what my truth sounds like."

"Yeah, yeah. What were you saying before you decided to give me a migraine?"

"Please," he scoffed. "You do not have a migraine." He held up his hands in surrender at my less than pleasant mental response. "Alright, alright. Sheesh, Blaine, don't have a cow. I was just saying that I've never heard of someone having an ability that took something away from them."

"Your point?"

"Noth--sorry, sorry," he stopped himself from making the same mistake twice when I glared viciously at him. "I didn't think that was possible. It's really interesting, though. It's like you were made for him or something."

"You've got to be fucking kidding me."

He rolled his eyes. "Relax. I didn't mean it in the literal sense; just that he's really lucky that you two met. It must be a relief for him to be able to communicate with someone without having to worry about whether or not he'll be understood."

I sent him a sideways glance. "I guess..."

He laughed. "Okay, I'm stopping. That was my last sappy sentiment for the day. God, you're so touchy."

Unable to help myself, I grinned. Then I stuck my tongue out, pulling up my nose for a good measure and crossing my eyes, figuring he would appreciate it.

Cooper snickered. "Nice."

I have to admit I enjoyed myself. I always did when I was with Cooper. I was able to let loose when I was with him and just, for a little while, forget that I was sixteen going on forty-five. And despite everything, I was able to have fun; even though we were watching a movie that was just about tied with Santa Claus Conquers the Martians as far as complete and total suckage went. It didn't matter how terrible the movie was though because crappy movies and incessant gum chewing was all we had left--less than half the relationship that used to be whole.

So I chewed Bazooka gum, piece after piece after piece, despite the fact that it was the worst tasting shit I had ever had the displeasure of putting in my mouth, because it was Cooper's favorite.

 And Cooper sat with me and watched the movie, rolling from his back to his stomach and back again as he laughed himself stupid, looking for all the world as if watching Troll 2 was the best experience of his life when the truth was that every movie we watched was a reminder of the things he wanted most that he wouldn't ever get to have-how could he possibly try his hand at acting when he couldn't so much as leave the room? He would rot in this cell for the rest of his life.

And I showed up to see him, just like I did every month before then and continued to do after, despite the way it tore the both of us up when it was time to leave. I did it because he was my brother. He was my brother and he needed me.

"I've got to go, Coop," I said softly when it got to the point where I couldn't stall any longer. We had six minutes left. The movie had long since ended and the main menu was on the screen, the creepy music playing over and over as we sat in silence, listening as we tried to prolong each second into something more. 

"I know," he said, sounding lost, and I hated it because leaving was always the worst part. I could already see the dread of being alone once again, locked up in that tiny room with nothing to do, start to close in on him. His breathing began to pick up.

Here we go.

"Please don't," I said when the DVD case that sat between us, the only something in the room not bolted down with steel (besides the tub of gum), started to twitch. "Please."

It wasn't something he could control, so it really wasn't fair to ask, but... my eyes flicked to the camera in the corner of the room. The nearly empty tub of gum started quivering next.

I grabbed his wrist and stared hard at the side of his face. "Come on, Coop. It'll be alright. I'll be back next month." He wouldn't look at me and his breathing was starting to get really rough now, but I could tell he was trying. "I'm not going to leave you here alone."

He looked at me with pained eyes. "You should," he said and I managed to cover the DVD case with my hand before it went flying at the wall. Keep calm, keep calm, I thought for the both of us.

Cooper looked brokenly at my hand. "You don't deserve this. I'm the older brother. I should be protecting you, but it's the other way around."

"Coop, please. You need to calm down, or they'll send someone in here."

He lifted his eyes to look at me. No one could manage to look broken like Cooper could. He was so genuine, so unapologetic to whatever he was feeling. He would have made a truly terrible actor.

"You hate yourself because of me," he said and it wasn't fair because he knew I couldn't deny it.

"You try to hide it from me," he said, voice dripping with pain and hurt. "Don't you know how stupid that is, Blaine? I hear everything. I know everything. I know exactly what you're scared of. Did you think you could keep Knox a secret? She threatened to kill you, Blaine, and you know what? She can." He shook his head. "And if that happens--if Knox or some other mother or lover or brother or whoever comes after you because you forced them to give up the people they love, it'll be entirely my--No! Damn it, Blaine, don't do that! Don't lie to yourself and don't lie to me! That CIA woman threatened to kill you! Don't you get how serious that is? If she does, it will be all my fault and we both know it! My fault my little brother is dead because he wouldn't let go of a lost cause! You've pissed off some powerful people trying to protect me. What are you going to do if they come after you? Huh, Blaine? Tell me what you would do, what you could do, to protect yourself!"

Deal with it.

He slammed his hand down in frustration, a pointless gesture that had almost no impact because mattresses don't make much sound when you hit them. So he yelled instead, "YOU SHOULDN'T HAVE TO!"

It was an old, familiar argument--almost exactly the same as last month's argument. It was the way we said goodbye.

I missed our old goodbyes when Cooper used to wave to me with a smile on his face as the bus pulled away from the curb to take me to school.

The DVD case flew out from underneath my hand at Cooper's outburst and shattered against the wall. The remaining pieces of Bakooza gum exploded from the tub and shot in all different directions. It made me think of that ridiculous popcorn scene in Troll 2 and suddenly I wanted to get my hands on the case so I could hurl it at the wall too, but bits and pieces of it were still zooming around the room.

SIIPA came rushing in.

Within seconds, Cooper was unconscious, a tranquillizer dart sticking out of his neck, and everything that had been flying around under the influence of Cooper's telekinetic energy came crashing down.

Gently, I pulled the dart from his neck. "Bye, Coop," I whispered.

It was almost five when I got back to Dalton and going to see Kurt when I still felt so raw seemed like too big of a gesture to make. I wasn't that guy. I didn't go running to people for comfort. So I sat in my car for five minutes, feeling stupid, and then I went to find him, just about running to his room.

Sebastian answered the door.

"He left."

The words made perfect sense and none at all. "What?"

Sebastian stared at me. "He. Left."

I ignored him and instead tried to peer over his shoulder into his and Kurt's room, which was just ridiculous. It wasn't as if he could lie to me.

Sebastian huffed and crossed his arms. "Oh, please, Blaine. I'm not hiding him." He rolled his eyes.

I took a deep breath. I knew I was acting like a lunatic, but my stomach had exploded with restless, muscle tearing nerves and only Kurt could make me feel okay again. I didn't like that he wasn't there, where I could see him. It made me feel dizzy. It was Monday all over again.  "Where did he go?" I asked as calmly as I could.

"Well, gee, Blaine, he went to Alaska to party with the Eskimos and dry hump a polar bear--how the hell should I know where he went? He doesn't talk, remember?"

I turned away from Sebastian with a violent spin before I did something stupid. After his ridiculous statement, his truth was slithering its way through my brain with agonizing slowness and I was feeling crazy enough to take it personally. I needed to get out.

I called Santana as I rushed outside.

She picked up on the second ring. "Whisky or Vodka?"

"Surprise me."

"Whisky it is, then."

"Just hurry up, okay?"

Her voice went soft. "I'm on my way."

When Santana pulled up it was closer to 8 than it was to 7 and I had done a fair share of cursing over how far away Lima was. It was dark out in the back of the parking lot, where the lights from the school were nearly dim, and it was pretty fucking cold too, but I hadn't bothered to turn the heat on in my car, or get my sweatshirt out of the back seat, or even close the driver's side door.

Santana walked over to me after killing her engine. She had the bottle in her hand she yanked out the cork. Wordlessly, she held out the open bottle and I immediately grabbed it from her and took a swig of the fowl tasting stuff. Whisky sucks, I thought as I took another swig. The burn felt good though.

"You know," she said as she moved to lean against the side of my car, "I bet Hummel wouldn't approve of this."

I paused mid gulp to stare at her. Slowly, I pulled the bottle away from my lips. "So?"

"So-o-o, I don't know-you seem to like him."

"Fuck, what is with everyone today? First Cooper and now you?"

She shrugged in an unapologetic way. "I'm in an advice giving kind of a mood."

I rolled my eyes. "Well, keep it to yourself."

She snorted. "Fine."

After that we were both quiet for a long while. Only the sound of the alcohol swishing in the bottle disrupted the quiet.

Santana broke first. "How bad was it?"

"Saying goodbye to Cooper or the interrogation?"

"Both."

"Pretty fucking bad."

"I heard Knox threatened to kill you," she said softly. Her father worked for SIIPA too-a handler. He and my own father were buddy-buddy, two creeps cut from the same cloth.

"So did Cooper. He didn't take it well."

Santana sighed and bumped my foot with hers. "He'll be okay."

"I feel like I'm going out of my mind."

"That's understandable, Blaine."

"No. You don't get it. Not because of today--not just because of today; because of right now."

"What do you-" she began to say, but I cut her off.

"Kurt's not here. He left and now he's not here and I don't know where the fuck he is and it's driving me insane. I mean--fuck--my hands are shaking. They are literally shaking just because some guy I met all of four days ago has a life outside of Dalton. I mean, someone threatened to kill me today, someone who could actually pull it off, and I'm here freaking out because Kurt isn't in my direct line of sight. What is wrong with me?"

"Nothing," she said, looking up at the sky. "He's your Brittany."

"San, that doesn't make sense. I hardly know him."

"That's the point-the real shit isn't supposed to make sense. Half the time Britt is so out of it that she can't remember who she is, let alone who I am, but I can't let her go. I'll be there for her for the rest of forever, and even if she forgets me completely and can't do anything but stare into space all day and sit, drooling through vision after vision, I'll still be there, waiting with a cloth to clean her up. Does that make sense? Of course not, but ask me if I care."

"Do you care?"

She rolled her eyes. "Don't be a prick."

"Sorry," I said, because Brittany was a soft spot for Santana, but I'll you more about that some other time. For now, we're moving on.

Because I was beginning to feel drunk out of my fucking mind, I said with as serious a face as I could, "You know you're my best friend, right?"

Santana eyed me with disgust and plucked the bottle out of my hands. "You're done with this now."

"Hey--no, give it back," I said, though I made no move to grab it back from her. "I'm not that bad."

"You just went all sappy on me. How is that ‘not that bad?'"

"I haven't tried to make out with you yet, have I?"

"Ugh, don't remind me."

"What? Girls are hot when I'm so drunk that I can't think strai-" I cut myself off when the words coming out of my mouth caught up with my brain. My jaw dropped and I sat there silently for a moment, dumbfounded by the sheer genius of my own drunkenness. Then I cracked up with a loud guffawing noise that probably hadn't sounded human. "Holy shit! Did you hear what I almost just said?"

Santana snorted, but I saw her lips twitch with a smile. "I heard," she confirmed.

I snickered. "Girls are hot when I can't think straight. Think straight. Classic."

With a roll of her eyes, she shook her head at me, her lips stretched wide with an amused grin. "You're a fucking idiot."

I grinned back, happy to be a source of amusement, but the smile on my lips faded fast as my mood took an abrupt turn when a sudden thought fired off in my head and lodged itself into the forefront of my mind. "...Do you think I'm a good person?"

Santana's smile vanished. "Shit, Anderson, where is all this touchy feely crap coming from?"

"Do you?" I pressed.

"Blaine..."

"Do you?"

"Yes, okay?" she asked, sounding put out and annoyed. Then, for some reason, in a softer tone, "I do. Of course I do."

And I waited, listening. She scowled at me for it. "Quit that. I'm not lying," she said, offended.

No, she wasn't.

There was a sudden scratchiness in my throat and I had to work to talk around it. "Thanks, Bitches."

She looked off to the side, her face turned up at the night sky. "Any time."

Hours later, Santana helped me get back to the school without falling on my face. I tried to get her to make out with me, but she refused. So I called her a shit-whore-bag-tease-of-a-fuck (whatever that meant) which had her laughing her goddamn ass off. I took offense to that too and refused her offer to help me to my dorm. I remember her walking away, still laughing.

Not up to making the trip to my dorm, I slept in the student lounge that night and woke up a while later to the truly amazing feeling of Kurt's fingers running through my hair. When I opened my eyes I found him frowning at me with a concerned look on his face. He looked me over with those amazing everything colored eyes of his. God, I wanted to kiss him. Or maybe I wanted to kiss his eyes. Because they were so pretty.

Instead I rolled on my back and buried my face in my hands. "I'm so fucking dru-u-unk," I moaned, really loud. Kurt snorted and I peeked up at him through my fingers. "Are you my Kurt or a fake one?"

He rolled his eyes. "A fake one," he said with annoyance. I didn't need to be a human lie detector to know what that was a lie.

I grinned dopily at him. Then I remembered that I still had my hands over my face and I pulled them away so he could see how happy I was. "You're here. You left, but you're here again. Why?"

"Home," he said simply.

"You went home? That's really nice. Your Dad was really nice on the phone that other day when you were in my ro--no, that's wrong. Not the nice, but the room. I was in your room. You were not in mine. So that's really nice."

He sighed. "What are you...?" he began, but trailed off with a distinct frown, looking frustrated. In my drunken state I really couldn't understand why--I'm assuming now that whatever he had been about to say would have been too declarative. So he tried again, rephrasing the question. "Do you want to go to your room? Do you need help?"

I shook my head. "Nossir, no, I do not want to go to my room. Stevie is in my room and he's a dick." I suddenly realized that Kurt had stopped playing with my hair. "Hey. Hey, Kurt. No. Don't stop. I want more of sumadis," I said, grabbing his hand and laying it back on the top of my head.

He regarded me in silence for a moment, and I smiled up at him, hoping that would make the seriousness on his face go away so he could go back to massaging my scalp with his magic fingers. "Please?" I asked, because, hey, that was polite and being polite got you rewards.

"Okay," he relented softly and I grinned happily when he started working his fingers through my curls.

"­Sogood," I moaned and he chuckled, which sounded amazing of course because Kurt's laugh was awesome. Now that he was where I could see him I felt better. The tight nervousness in my stomach had gone away and I felt boneless.

"Hey, Kurt?"

"Mmm?"

"What time is it?"

"Fifteen o'clock," he said, whispering as if not to disturb the quiet. His truth followed suit, Almost three AM.

"Did you just get here?"

"Uh-huh." No, I got here about twenty minutes ago.

I frowned at that. "...So you were at your house, but you came back, not in the morning time when it would make sense to, but like, super, super early in the morning time when people are sleeping. Why did you do that, Kurt?"

Biting his lip, he looked away and said nothing.

But I wanted to know. I wanted to know so bad that the need to have an answer seemed to claw at me with an urgency I couldn't ignore. It burned me-the truly rare occurrence of desperately wanting something that I actually needed something new and foreign to me--and relief was right there, just at the tips of my fingers. All I needed to do was reach just a little bit farther, and I would have it. All I had to do was strain. So I did something really stupid that I never, ever would have done had I not been so drunk. No. That's not right. I wouldn't have done it period--drunk or not. Not under normal circumstances, at least. But this was Kurt and I needed to know.

I took Kurt's silence as omission and his mind opened up to mine.

I needed you. I couldn't stay. I needed you.

The gentle touch of his omission was so soft in my mind that it made tears prick insistently at my eyes. It made my whole body hum. It made me want for things I had never thought I would get to have. It did so many other things, beautiful, wonderful, amazing things that I can't even begin to describe, but it didn't hurt. It didn't hurt at all. Not even slightly.

I looked at Kurt, completely blissed out of my fucking mind with awe. He looked back at me, confused by my expression; he was completely lost to gravity of the moment.

"You're amazing," I told him just before I leaned up on my elbows and touched his lips with mine.