Breathe In.

Breathe Out.

Blood isn’t a problem, it can wash out. Scars fade. It’ll be fine.

Do it.

Do it.

It’ll help.

Trust me.

It’ll make the pain go away.

Please.

And he did it. The blade slid across his skin easily, and Kurt stared at the resulting line across the pale skin of his thigh.

Hell, it wasn’t even a line. It was a faint dot of white.

And nothing was better.

Kurt frowned down at them, tears pouring down his cheeks.

Why wasn’t it better?

He looked at the scissors, his eyes accusing and untrusting. They were new – he’d bought them especially for this purpose.

Maybe he was doing it wrong?

He put the blade back on the skin, resting it there. The coolness was almost refreshing. Tears still poured down his cheeks, falling onto his uniform – onto his legs and arms. Everywhere.

Fast. Like a Band-Aid.

He bit his lower lip, taking a shuddering breath before digging it in slightly, ripping it across the skin and gasping out.

Fuck!

It hurt. No doubt. But it was a few seconds of searing pain, before Kurt’s tears stopped. He was fascinated. Blood beaded to the surface, faster where he’d dug it in deeper at the start. It gathered until it was like a pool along his leg. And then it began to drip.

Kurt panicked.

There was a cut.

On his leg.

That he’d made.

Fuck. Fuck. What have I done?

He reached for a tissue, and the blood spilled off his leg, onto the white porcelain bathroom sink. He left it, wetting the tissue and pressing it to his leg.

He couldn’t tell whether he was still bleeding, but there was a lot of blood.

And he was still freaking out.

“Fuck…”

“Kurt?”

Kurt’s eyes widened as the door to the bathroom opened, and there stood Blaine.

Kurt shifted immediately, turning so his leg was obscured.

But Blaine saw the spilled blood.

His eyes instantly narrowed, his forehead wrinkling in concern.

“What did you do?” he lunged at Kurt, who shrunk into a ball, tears welling in his eyes again.

“Nothing!”

Blaine snatched the scissors from Kurt’s hand, nicking his own hand in the process. He spun Kurt around, his eyes widening at the blood. Kurt was crying, feeling pathetic and useless as he sobbed, just staring at his hands.

“You’re so fucking stupid.” Blaine hissed, grabbing three or four tissues and pressing them to his cut roughly.

Kurt gasped out, grabbing Blaine’s shirt in pain.

“I hope it hurts.” Blaine picked Kurt up, carrying him wedding style into Kurt’s room, dropping him on the bed and sitting behind him.

Kurt just cried, sobbing into his arm. His face was beet red, and he couldn’t look at Blaine. Blaine reached into the side cupboard, pulling out the antiseptic cream that Blaine knew was there, on account of spending almost every day at Kurt’s house.

Blaine got to work, pulling the tissues away. It was still lightly bleeding, but Blaine smeared a whole lot of cream on the cut, his chin leaning on Kurt’s shoulder. Kurt was silent, tears streaming down his cheeks, but he was watching Blaine work. His sobs were subdued, taking shuddering breaths.

Kurt watched the blood – his blood – mix with the cream, turning a cute shade of pink, before Blaine shifted and pulled a large Band-Aid from the drawer, opening it and pressing it down hard on the cut, making Kurt cry out again.

Kurt glared at his boyfriend, but his glare faded when he saw that Blaine was crying almost as hard as Kurt was.

Taking a shuddering breath, Kurt wrapped his arms around Blaine’s neck, but he shrugged him off, shaking his head and rolling Kurt’s pant leg down. He stood, letting Kurt lie down properly and leant against the wall.

The two remained like that for a long time. Kurt stared at the ceiling, no longer sobbing, but tears constantly fell, making dark patches in his white pillow. Blaine stared at the floor, looking completely lost and sad.

It must’ve been close to an hour, before Blaine finally spoke.

“How many times?”

Kurt’s eyes flicked over to Blaine, then back to the ceiling.

“This was the first.” He whispered after a very long time.

Blaine slid down to the ground, putting his head in his hands.

“I think that’s worse.” He whispered.

Kurt sat up, watching him curiously.

“Why?”

“Because it means you’re unhappy, even if I’m here with you.” Blaine glanced up at him with teary eyes, his voice breaking as he talked. “What happened? Is Karofsky…is he…are you getting bullied again? God…I can’t stop it can I?”

He cried into his arms again, and Kurt was struck with guilt.

“I just…had a bad day…” Kurt whispered. He wanted to get up, to hold Blaine, but his thigh hurt like hell.

“I should’ve…I should’ve been here earlier. I stopped for coffee…I…”

“Blaine…you’re acting as if I tried to kill myself…”

Blaine glanced up at him sharply. “You did.”

Kurt shook his head, swallowing hard. “No! Not at all. Blaine…I don’t want to die! How could I? I…couldn’t leave you…”

Blaine just stared, uncomprehendingly at Kurt. “What?”

Kurt glanced down at his leg, where it felt like he was burning. “I don’t want to die…”

“Then why’d you cut yourself?” he snapped. “Because that’s pretty fucking close.”

Kurt recoiled, and Blaine’s frown softened.

“Why would you cut yourself…if you don’t want to die?”

“I just…I wanted to feel it. I wanted to feel something…”

“I’m not enough?” Blaine glanced at him through hurt eyes. “I…don’t make you feel?”

Kurt glanced down at his leg again. “You do!”

“Then why?” Blaine got onto his knees, shuffling to the bed. “Why?”

Kurt looked away. “I don’t know! Okay. I just…I just needed to.”

Blaine sunk back down onto his calves, staring at his hands.

“Blaine…”

Suddenly Blaine stood, glaring at Kurt. “Fine then. If you need your fucking fix of some sort of feeling, then don’t let me fucking stop you.” His eyes brimmed with tears, but he blinked them back furiously. “Screw you Kurt.”

He stormed out, slamming the door. Kurt felt the vibrations through the house, through his body. He sobbed into his hands, into his pillow, screaming into it. Blaine only took a few steps before collapsing on the stairs, crying violently.

He thanked to whoever was up there that Burt, Carole and Finn weren’t home.

x.x

It was dark when Blaine finally pulled himself from the stairs, and stabs of panic attacked him. How could he have left Kurt on his own? He pelted the few steps to his door, flinging it open and preparing for the worst.

Kurt was slumped upside-down on his bed, and Blaine’s heart caught in his throat. His mind jumped to several thousand possible conclusions in the short few strides it took to get to Kurt, heaving him up and checking him over for more cuts.

There were none.

Blaine sighed with relief as Kurt blinked sleepily, swatting Blaine away.

“Get away from me…” he croaked, his voice sore from crying.

Blaine just hugged him tightly, pulling him close. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I’m sorry,”

Kurt shook his head, burying it into Blaine’s chest as Blaine breathed apologies into his ear.

Kurt pushed Blaine away gently, tears starting up again. “I’m sorry.”

Blaine shook his head. “I’m transferring to McKinley.”

“What?”

“I’m…I want to always be there. I want to protect you. You shouldn’t feel like you have to do this. I’ll always be there…whenever you need me. I…” Blaine’s voice broke as he started crying again. “I saw you there…your blood on the sink…and I almost died inside Kurt…you looked so sad…”

Kurt kissed his cheek gently, hugging him again. “I don’t want you to come, just for me…what about Dalton? You love it there…”

“I love you more. I want you to be safe. I want you…I don’t want to see scars on your leg forever.”

Blaine kissed the side of his neck gently. “If you ever feel this crap again…you’ve got to call me. You have to. Call me before you do anything. I’ll be right over. I’ll look after you.”

Kurt nodded wordlessly, burying his face into Blaine’s chest again, biting back a sob.