Chapter Eight

Blaine yawned widely as he meandered into the kitchen the next morning, Molly balancing precariously on his shoulders, her claws catching in the fabric of his pyjama top.

"Good sleep?" Dad was sitting at the kitchen table drinking his morning coffee while reading the paper.

Blaine nodded, "Uh huh."

Molly jumped delicately from Blaine's shoulders to the countertop and began to nose curiously at his hand as he slathered strawberry jam all over his toast. A gentle nudge of fond amusement tickled at his senses. "Ah. Someone's not awake yet. I see how it is."

"Good morning sweetheart." Mom breezed into the kitchen, pecking Blaine on the cheek. He smiled at the warmth that bloomed from the contact. "No cats on my work surfaces please, you know the rules."

Blaine grinned, biting into his toast, "Sorry Mom." He scratched Molly's ears, feeling the feline annoyance as she obediently jumped to the floor.

It was funny. Blaine had been given Molly a little over two years ago now, when she had been a tiny little kitten bursting with joy and life, able to fit snugly in his hands. He had always been able to sense her emotions, and she had always helped him regain balance when he had bad days – or bad weeks as had been the case this time. But as she had grown older, it was like she was able to read Blaine just as well. She always knew what he needed, and was always there for him, without fail.

He knew his relationship with his cat was very unusual, but for that, he loved her all the more. Only people with very high ES levels could sense the emotions of animals, and even then, only domesticated breeds; cats were the stereotype, but dogs were also perceptive enough as well.

There was still a stigma behind it, even in today's modern society. In the 17th Century, the witch hunts had led to the persecution of high level empaths, many targeted because they kept feline 'familiars', and that superstition had lingered through the centuries that followed. It was different, outside of the norm, and people hated it.

Blaine would never forget the time when he had been five years old, playing with a mangy local stray cat in their backyard. It had been a scrawny, ugly thing, but he remembered the friendly, attention-seeking greeting. He also remembered the horrible jarring mix of terror and anger when his mom found him having a one sided conversation with the stray's emotions, with as much eloquence as a five year old could muster.

He remembered bursting into tears and apologising over and over, before his mom had even let half her emotions show on her face, let alone open her mouth.

She had chased the cat away, and his parents had argued that night. Loudly. Hurtfully. He was taken to the local Sense Clinic the next day, and diagnosed within the week.

But his parents had grown and learnt, along with the rest of his family, and Blaine most of all.

It had only been two years, but he couldn't imagine a life without Molly now.

"So, your dad and I were talking, and if you're feeling up to it, we thought that this weekend we could ask Kurt and his parents round for dinner."

Blaine froze, his toast halfway to his mouth, "Huh?"

Careful calmness shrouded his senses, and he could tell that his parents were being extra cautious with their emotions this morning. It helped that Molly had stayed with him all night, and that they had all had that conversation before bed, and the fact that Kurt had stayed all afternoon... He felt more rested, more stable.

"Well, we thought that if Kurt was going to be around a bit more, and if you're going to be around him, then maybe we should get to know him. And..." Fireworks crackled in a nervous snap and the wind swirled, "And maybe we should also think about telling his parents. It's a big secret to ask your friend to keep."

"I... I..." Blaine stuttered, his stomach squirming. It had been hard enough to tell Kurt... "I haven't even met his dad..." And Kurt's dad would tell his stepmom, and his stepmom would tell Finn, and Finn would blab to the kids at school, and everyone would know!

His rising panic had clearly projected, because Dad was over to him in a second, strong, sure hands resting comfortingly on Blaine's shoulders, "Breathe, Blaine, just breathe. It's okay. We were asking you for a reason."

"I just... I don't..." He had woken up feeling so good as well. But now reality and what might happen on Monday, and god he hasn't talked to Kurt properly since he told him the truth and what if he hated him and-

A bottle-brush tail swished softly against his leg, and strong hands continued to rub reassuringly at his arms while more delicate fingers brushed a lock of hair from his forehead. His thoughts began to slow, edging back away from the cliff he had nearly toppled off. When his breathing had evened out to his parents' satisfaction, his mom dropped a light kiss into his hair. "It's okay, it's always your choice who to tell. Just finish your breakfast, sweetheart. Don't forget that we're driving to Columbus today."

Blaine groaned. He had forgotten. Completely. He was due to meet with Dr Monroe at the Columbus Sense Clinic; they had scheduled it to be a month after Blaine had started back at school, a check up to see how he was doing. Although most decent sized towns in the USA had their own Sense Clinic, Blaine needed most specialist care, and so since their move to Lima, it meant a really long drive. Dr Monroe had been treating him since he was diagnosed, and while she was really nice, it didn't mean that Blaine had to like to sessions with her.

And so Blaine found himself in his room an hour later, gelling his hair while he chatted out loud to a disinterested Molly – she was far more invested in her staring contest with next door's dog from her perch on Blaine's windowsill, "-and it's not like she'll say anything different, either. Oh my god... what if she asks about Kurt? What do I say?" He wandered over to the window, looking down at the cheery mutt watching them from next door's back yard. "I think he likes you."

Molly was superiorly disdainful.

"Blaine! Five minutes!" Dad called from downstairs.

"Coming!" His reply was interrupted by his phone. The caller ID flashed Kurt's name, and he fumbled to answer, "Hello?"

"Hi!" Kurt's voice was, was happy? Or maybe just friendly. Or possibly falsely enthusiastic. Phone calls gave Blaine a headache. They were really difficult; he could hear the voice but couldn't read anything. Kurt probably loved them, because they worked in his favour, but for Blaine... engaging with people without emotions present was just plain weird. At least with Skype he could see the other person and read their emotions by watching facial expressions. Phone calls were so much harder to interpret. Like texts, but worse. "I just wanted to call, see how you were doing after, you know, everything yesterday."

"Oh! Yeah, yeah, I'm better. Are you... are I mean, how are you, I kinda just... I'm sorry, and I don't know I..." Blaine stumbled over his words badly, his head already spinning. He hated this. Normal short phone conversations like ordering pizza or arranging a meet up were fine, but stuff like this... he needed to know what the other person was thinking, feeling, doing. The patient (if it was patient) silence while Blaine's tongue tripped just made him more and more nervous.

"Hey, hey calm down are you okay?" Kurt's voice sounded concerned, worried, confused, sad, happy, angry, annoyed?

Blaine wanted to scream. This was horrible. "I don't really like talking on the phone..." Blaine's words tumbled out in a fast rush before he could second guess himself. "I can't feel..." He trailed off, hoping Kurt would get the idea.

But instead of simply understanding Blaine's predicament, there was a long pause and a sharp intake of breath. "But... I don't understand... why would that make a difference with me?" Confused, cautious, irritated, impatient? "Wait... Blaine, can you... can you feel..?" Hurt, fury, hatred, disgusted, fearful, repulsed, distrustful?

Blaine didn't know, he couldn't tell, he didn't want to know, "I have to go Kurt, sorry, doctor's appointment in Columbus. See you at school bye." He said it as fast as he could; hanging up before Kurt could say anything else, throwing his phone onto his bed as if it was a poisonous snake. He retreated to the windowsill, wrapping his arms around himself. The cell began ringing again immediately, but Blaine let it go to voicemail. As soon as it stopped, it started up again.

"Blaine? You ready to go?" Dad poked his head through the door, frowning. "Hey, you okay?"

Blaine nodded vigorously, "Yeah, let's go."

A sweep of doubt, a niggle of uncertainty, tingling concern settling, "Not going to answer that?"

"We'll be late, Dad, come on." Blaine ignored him. Just as he ignored his phone on the bed when it fell silent again for the third time.

As he walked out of his bedroom, he heard it beep cheerily with a text. He kept walking. He had already messed everything up with Kurt for good. No point reading about it.

Because now he understood. Kurt had always assumed that Blaine couldn't feel his emotions, the same as everyone else at school, but that unlike them, Blaine just didn't care.

Except that wasn't quite true, not really. Kurt was different, yes, but not silent, never silent, not to Blaine.

And now Kurt knew that, there was no way he would want someone as freaky as Blaine near him...

TBC