No Envy, No Fear
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April 24, 2012, 10:32 a.m.


No Envy, No Fear: Chapter 15


E - Words: 3,976 - Last Updated: Apr 24, 2012
Story: Complete - Chapters: 16/16 - Created: Mar 15, 2012 - Updated: Apr 24, 2012
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One hundred and forty four minutes.

Kurt had counted every single one from the moment he sat down again, waiting.

When he’d awoken in the hospital emergency room, his father was already there. Burt had jolted out of his seat, faster than Kurt had ever seen him move, just to smile and take his hand and stare down at him with wet eyes and a trembling mouth.

Concussion and heavy bruising, he’d said. You’re going to be alright.

Kurt’s distinct lack of severe injuries had been nothing short of miraculous, though the bone-shaking pain in his arms and shoulders had reminded him with every gesture of each individual blow he’d deflected from his body and his organs. The heavy boots that had pummelled him mercilessly had each left their own mark.

You’re lucky, the doctor had said, and Kurt had swallowed bile at the words.

Blaine was lying broken on a surgical table in the same building.

You’re lucky.

He’d felt the numb prickle in his skin and his chest; the awareness of Blaine’s absence, the sense that he was still there somewhere, lost in drug-induced unconsciousness as they cut parts of him away and sewed him back together.

Broken ribs. Ruptured spleen. Internal bleeding.

He’d listened as Burt explained the aftermath of what happened on the field, trying to stay focused.

Kurt’s voice had been croaky, distracted, and unfamiliar to his own ears as he’d answered the police officer’s questions, one after another. He’d barely remembered what he’d said afterwards.

When the officer had finally left, he’d slid down in his seat, eyes out of focus and staring at one small piece of carpet across the room. It was darker than the rest, like a stain or a hole in the weave. Like a hole in the middle of a star.

Blaine.

One hundred and forty four minutes after he’d awoken and spoken with his father, dressed himself and escaped the emergency room, after he’d discovered Blaine was out of surgery, and collapsed into a chair to wait - one hundred and forty four minutes later, he saw Blaine again.

They wheeled the bed down the corridor and into a small room with Kurt trailing close behind. He ignored the clicks and clunks as the bed was hooked up, as the machines were checked and the nurses went about their routine. His eyes were trained on Blaine’s peaceful face; beautiful and so calm, like he was simply sleeping.

When they left the room, Kurt swayed on his feet, stuck standing on the one spot and staring at the steady rise and fall of Blaine’s chest.

I’ve got the door, he heard his father say before the glass pane slid open and closed again, clicking softly.

He forced his feet to move, one small shuffling step after another until he made it to the bedside and slid a knee onto the thin hospital mattress. He climbed gingerly over the metal bracket and lowered himself onto his hip, stretching out carefully and shifting in tiny motions to fit his body to Blaine’s side.

“I’m here,” he whispered. “I’m right here. You’re okay. I’m here.”

Blaine expressionless features didn’t move, and Kurt lifted his hand to brush long fingers over his face.

“I’m here.”

He leaned down to press a soft, careful kiss to Blaine’s dry lips, mouthing at them slowly and wondering at the sudden rush of wet warmth over his own mouth. It took him a moment to realise he was crying.

“I’m here.”

Kurt could hear himself saying the same words over and over again, but he knew he couldn’t stop.

“They did a splenectomy,” he explained in hushed tones, dropping his fingers to adjust the collar of Blaine’s gown, to keep it clear of his throat and comfortable.

“You’re down one spleen.” He laughed wetly, brushing fingers through Blaine’s hair. “You’ll heal, but you’re going to have a scar. But we can find some minimising products to help it fade faster. I’m positive Dior has something. But you’re okay, that’s,” he patted Blaine’s chest gently on the right-hand side, studying his face, “that’s what’s important, you’re okay, and I’m here.”

There was no reply.

Kurt smiled around his tears, wiping his face quickly with the back of his hand. “I mean, you’re not going anywhere. You’re coming with me. To New York. So you’ve got to wake up, so we can…”

It took him a moment to school his breathing back down to a calm and even pace, and he closed his eyes, thumbing gently over Blaine’s collarbone. He lowered himself down slowly, tucking his face against the side of Blaine’s neck and nuzzling there, feeling suddenly so much more like a frightened child than he had in a long time.

His free hand hovered over the expanse of Blaine’s chest, unsure of where to rest it, terrified of causing pain. After a moment of shaky indecision, he let his hand drop between their bodies and found Blaine’s fingers, pushing his own between them.

“I’m here,” he whispered again, playing with Blaine’s hand absently, running fingertips over his knuckles and thumbing at soft skin.

“They arrested Carter, and stripped his cuff,” he said. “The others got away with warnings, some got arrested too. But everybody already knows what he did. You were right.”

He waited for a sound of acknowledgement, but there was none.

“He’s never going to touch anybody ever again,” Kurt finished, his voice barely audible. “So you can wake up.”

The quiet pressed in, leaving him with only the soft beep and hum of the machines playing over the murmur of absent voices in the corridor for company.

“I’m here. I love you,” he insisted, closing his eyes, “and I’m here.”

He heard the door slide open, but didn’t look up. He knew it was the doctor; he could hear his father’s voice, arguing quietly. He only caught a handful of words, too busy breathing in the scent of Blaine and gently rubbing his cheek against the crook of his neck.

“-can’t be on the bed like that.”

“That’s his Sub, you’re not moving him, he-“

Kurt swallowed roughly, trying to tune them out. He squeezed Blaine’s hand, ignoring the cold press of the metal bed frame against his calves.

“Are you gonna stand there and tell me that if that was your Sub, your wife, that there’s a force on god’s green earth that could tear you out of that bed?”

He heard the door click shut moments later, and opened his eyes again.

“I hate you,” he whispered, blinking slowly. “I hate you for coming back. I told you to keep running, but you never listen. You’re supposed to do what I tell you to, Blaine. But you don’t.”

Silence.

“I don’t like circles,” Kurt confessed around a choked-off sob. “But I keep seeing them. Everywhere. In the waiting room, in the ugly paintings they have on the walls.”

When he let go of Blaine’s hand, he wet his lips carefully and slid his fingers under the collar of Blaine’s gown, gliding them lightly over his chest to settle on his heart. He waited in the quiet, trying to feel the beat under his palm.

Griefcircle, his brain offered absently. The old lesson came surging back into the front of his mind, droning in the disconnected monotone of their old D/s Ed teacher’s voice.

When a claimed pair is separated by death the remaining party will, in cases of devastating loss, often choose of their own volition to be branded with a circle over their star. It means they seek no future claim. It means they will never love again.

“I don’t like circles,” Kurt murmured, sweeping his thumb over skin in a shaky caress. “But I would wear one for you.”

He felt Blaine’s chest swell and dip under his hand, the same steady rhythm as always.

“Don’t give me a circle, Blaine.”

Kurt didn’t know how long he’d been lying on the bed, drifting in and out of reality, before he spoke again.

“When you wake up, we’re going home. And you’re not allowed back here, ever again,” Kurt insisted firmly. “I c-command it. I…”

He choked on his words as he buried his face against Blaine’s throat, sobbing quietly.

“I’m here,” he whined in a shaky voice. “Wake up.”

He didn’t know if it was morning or night, only that there was no light outside. He didn’t know how long he cried into Blaine’s shoulder before he fell asleep.

When he woke again, it was to the sound of shuffling footsteps and plastic tapping, the beep of a machine and a firm hand lifting him back.

“Hmm?”

“Shh, it’s okay.”

“No,” he swatted at the hand that had pulled at his shoulder, but it was gone. Did that happen?

“He needs me,” Kurt mumbled, trying to open his eyes. His mind sputtered into consciousness, sleep-clogged and left wondering what was actually going on.

There was a soft sound of amusement, and the shoulder beneath him moved.

His eyes shot open.

“I do.”

Kurt propped himself up, staring.

“Need you,” Blaine croaked, smiling. “Morning.”

Lips parting around shallow breaths, Kurt blinked rapidly at him.

“Sorry about the nurse, she just had to check on me,” Blaine said, eyelids dipping and lifting slowly. “Go back to sleep. It’s cold.”

The hand that had touched his shoulder was the nurse, he realised. The noises, the machines, all from the nurse’s checks. Kurt glanced around the empty room before his eyes fell on Blaine again. “You’re awake.”

“I’m here,” Blaine confirmed with a gravelly voice, and settled back into his pillows as Kurt covered his mouth with a slow, desperate kiss.

“Blaine,” Kurt said breathlessly, petting at his hair and trying to stay balanced on his side, trying to keep his tears behind his eyes.

“You’re not hurt?” Blaine whispered. “You’re okay?”

“I’m fine,” Kurt gushed. “Just a concussion. Some bruises. I’m fine, I’m here. You’re- how do you feel?”

“Sore.” Blaine laughed briefly before he coughed, wincing.

“I’ll fix it, I’ll make it better,” Kurt said in a rush, hand hovering over Blaine’s chest and finally settling against his heart again.

Fixing him with heavy-lidded eyes, Blaine smiled dopily. “You always do.”

Kurt stared at him for as long as he could, drinking in the dark coffee of his eyes and the soft curve of his mouth, the way his eyelashes fanned against his cheeks with every sleepy dip and rise. He wanted to tell Blaine how beautiful he was, even now, even in this ugly place. He wanted to lie on top of him, bring him calm and quiet release, prove that he could make him feel better. But he couldn’t.

His eyes trailed down to the thick cuff on his own wrist, and he shifted quickly, unclipping the bracelet that had been forced over it.

“Here,” he said, reaching out for Blaine’s hand and sliding the cool metal over skin.

“Wh- what happened?” Blaine asked numbly. “I thought that when he took it… I was so scared.”

“It doesn’t work that way,” Kurt insisted, echoing his father’s explanation. Burt had soothed him when he’d woken in the ER, frantic and clawing at his wrist. “We were never broken.”

“How?”

“It’s like,” Kurt swallowed against a dry, hot throat, “if a stranger signed someone else’s divorce papers. It doesn’t mean anything,” he said, thumbing over the metal. “We have to want to break it, for it to matter. For taking this off to change anything. The cuff, the… they’re just visual cues, for other people to see that you’re mine. We get it in our heads that it represents the claim and your body reacts to wearing it like that’s what it is. But it’s just a bracelet.”

Blaine’s eyes were wet as his head rolled against the pillow, and he smiled weakly up at Kurt’s face as he explained.

“I was always yours,” Kurt said. “You were always mine.”

“Yours,” Blaine echoed softly, eyelids drooping.

Kurt shifted, lowering himself down carefully to fit along Blaine’s side again and rest his head on the pillow. He pressed his forehead into Blaine’s hair, nuzzling softly at his ear.

“Shh, sleep,” he whispered. “We’re together now.”

They drifted in and out of consciousness, waking with each nurse and doctor’s visit and learning what they could of Blaine’s recovery before the day darkened to night again.

Family came and went as the week rolled by; Burt and Carole, Cooper and Jo, friends from the Glee club. When Blaine was discharged Kurt helped him into his clothes, smoothing the creased lines of his shirt and sliding on his jacket.

As days at home turned into weeks and bruises faded, Kurt lay Blaine’s body out on their bed every night, covering him lightly at first and then firmer as angry red scars turned pink. He kissed the marks he found, wishing them away under his lips and fingertips, holding tight and silently promising to always prove how much he needed the body beneath his.

Blaine hadn’t gone back to school, but seemed content to do his classwork at home, curled in a seat by the window most days. He didn’t speak as often anymore, Kurt had noticed, and his eyes glossed over when anybody else touched him.

PTSD, Burt said one day. Like it was as simple as that. Kurt, he’s been hospitalised twice. His brother was nearly killed. It’s gonna take time.

There was an ache in Kurt’s heart and his ribcage, building as the days went by, longing for Blaine’s old smile and the sound of his voice singing softly in the car, the bright lights in his eyes as they drove.

“I have to find something, anything,” Kurt told his family one day over breakfast, sipping his coffee and letting his gaze linger, out of focus, on the bench.

“He’s recovering, sweetheart,” Carole said with a pat to the shoulder. “It’s going to take time.”

He remembered Blaine’s own admission so long ago in the Lima Bean, the first time they’d sat over coffee together. Doubt is in us like water. Feed it and we drown.

Doubt had been beaten into Blaine three times now, so hard his bones had broken.

“He’s drowning,” Kurt mumbled.

Burt and Carole exchanged a quick glance before Burt turned the page of his paper.

Kurt stiffened with realisation, eyes flicking back and forth. He emptied his mug quickly and rinsed it, dropping it carelessly by the sink.

“What is it?” Burt asked.

“I have an idea,” he called back as he hurried out of the kitchen, climbing the stairs two at a time.

Inside their bedroom, Blaine was curled on his side under the blankets, still lingering in the remnants of his sleep the night before.

“Up,” Kurt commanded, moving to the wardrobe.

Blaine shifted into a sitting position, blinking at him drowsily. “Don’t you have school?”

“Are you coming?”

Blaine looked down, suddenly seeming fascinated by the bedspread.

“Then no, I don’t have school. Not today,” Kurt continued, flicking through Blaine’s clothes to pull out a pair of jeans and a long-sleeve shirt. “Get dressed. We’re going out.”

“Not today, I-”

“Blaine,” Kurt cut him off, voice strong and thick with intent. “Get up. Now. Get dressed.”

Blaine met his gaze for a moment, but his features were unreadable. After a long pause, he pushed off the quilt and climbed out of bed, reaching out for the clothes Kurt had gathered for him.

The drive was quiet, but Kurt barely noticed; he’d grown used to Blaine’s silence and the undertow of unspoken discomfort as the weeks had gone by. When he pulled into the lot, Kurt cut the engine and gathered his bag, slinging it over his shoulder as he climbed out of the Navigator.

Kurt reached behind himself as he took the first few steps towards the gate, just like he’d always done when they got out of the car together. His hand hovered, too empty in the air for a moment too long, and he felt a strange and unfamiliar pain rise in his chest.

It faded in an instant when Blaine’s fingers slid into his palm.

It was raining softly when he paid their entry fee. Blaine stayed guarded, kept his arm wrapped around himself and his other hand in Kurt’s while he was led into the open area of the North Lima pool.

“I can’t,” he said softly when they came to a stop.

“It’s been five weeks,” Kurt countered, breathing in the light scent of chlorine and the damp, sweet grass under rain. “I did the research when you came home from the hospital. Four weeks is long enough to swim again, after a splenectomy. You need this.”

“I can’t,” Blaine repeated, his eyes dull and dark.

Kurt sighed, measuring him carefully. He dropped his bag on the side stands, glancing around to ensure they were alone before he turned back to Blaine and caught the hem of his shirt, pulling it up.

Blaine’s fingers came up to tangle in his and halt them. “Kurt, don’t-“

“Let go,” Kurt instructed evenly, and Blaine’s hands dropped.

Kurt drew the shirt up to Blaine’s collar, holding it bunched in one hand as he splayed the other over the bright pink scar.

Blaine’s eyes fell shut at the touch.

“I love you,” Kurt said, peeling off Blaine’s shirt completely and tucking it beside his bag. “But I’m losing you. Because I’ve been too scared to be your Dom, too scared to be firm. For the last month, I’ve been so afraid of… everything. Blaine, this isn’t us.”

“I know,” Blaine whispered. “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be sorry,” Kurt insisted, dropping back onto the seat and pulling Blaine closer to stand between his spread knees. “Be here.”

He moved his hands up Blaine’s chest, caressing him slowly.

“We’re in public, Kurt, we can’t,” Blaine said worriedly, glancing around.

“We can,” Kurt argued. “The pool is freshly cleaned, there’s no staff on duty but the two out in the front. It’s a school day, and it’s raining, so nobody will come. Nobody’s around but us.”

Blaine drew and released a shaky breath.

“Nobody will hurt you, Blaine. I’m right here.” He slid forward on his seat, gripping Blaine’s waist and pressing a kiss over the scar. “Let me touch you.”

The air punched out of Blaine’s lungs as his body relaxed against Kurt’s hands and mouth.

Kurt’s fingers dropped to the catch of Blaine’s jeans, unbuttoning them slowly and drawing them over his hips. The boxer briefs beneath were dark enough to pass as swimming trunks, and Kurt grazed both palms up the back of Blaine’s thighs lovingly, resting his cheek against the warm curve of his belly.

They hadn’t had sex since the attack, despite holding on to each other each night. He’d been too afraid of moving too soon, of taking too much control when Blaine had come from being the most helpless he’d ever been in his life. But it didn’t stop the need from rushing through his body at the sight of Blaine’s bare skin, at the feel of it under his hands.

Kurt fought the urge to pull Blaine into his lap and peel off his briefs, to sink his mouth down and make Blaine writhe and cry out, and fill his veins with that heady, sweet, all-encompassing pleasure that he loved so much; the aftershocks of Blaine’s enjoyment that reverberated through Kurt’s bones. But he couldn’t.

Even alone, they were still in a public place.

Instead, he rose to his feet, tugging off his own shirt quickly and undoing his pants. “Come with me,” he said. “Do as I ask.”

“Yes,” Blaine answered without hesitation.

He tugged on Blaine’s arm, and they ran together to dive in, sending up geysers of chlorinated water as they met the surface.

“Blaine,” Kurt called out, reaching blindly through the water until he found him and drew him closer. “Deep breath.”

Nodding, Blaine did as he was told, seizing a huge lungful of air before they both descended through the water, sinking till they bumped the bottom.

Kurt reached out with both hands, cradling Blaine’s jaw and sliding fingers over it, willing him to open his eyes.

Blaine blinked at him through the clear water, pupils huge and bright, frozen in the stillness and the absence of sound. Kurt pushed forward, propelling himself with a kick to the pool’s floor and coiling both legs around Blaine’s waist. With both hands, he tipped Blaine’s head back to seal their mouths together.

It was a command without words, just a simple instruction to breathe. He could feel Blaine filling his lungs, rocketing through his veins, the sweep of their mouths rippling as bubbles of air danced along their faces and rose above to the surface. He could feel Blaine’s arms wrapped tightly around his waist, clinging to his body desperately, unwilling to let go.

Breathe.

He knew he should be panicking, desperate for more air, but all Kurt could do was settle in the cradle of Blaine’s body entwined with his, drifting in weightlessness. He raked fingers through the silky, billowing curls of Blaine’s hair underwater, holding him as close as he could.

When they broke the surface again, gasping, Kurt wrapped both arms around Blaine’s shoulders as he shook.

“Breathe,” he instructed. “Look at me.”

Panting, Blaine looked up through the tracks of water racing over his brow and down his cheeks. He settled his forehead against Kurt’s, trying to find a rhythm to his breathing.

“You’re safe here. With me. They won’t hurt you again, they won’t hurt me,” Kurt told him, voice high and trembling. “You’re mine. You’re coming with me, and I will never leave you. Do you understand?”

Blaine nodded against him, breath hitching with emotion.

Kurt kissed him in rapid bursts, pressing fingers against the sides of his head fiercely and claiming him for all he was worth.

“I felt you,” Kurt confessed between kisses. “Before we were this, before us. I felt you. I didn’t make you do this, you didn’t make me love you, I was meant to.”

“Wh-what? You can’t-”

“I did,” Kurt cut him off. “When you ran out of that cafeteria, I felt you. When I found you in the bathroom. When you weren’t at school, the entire time we were just friends… we were never just friends, Blaine.” He rushed the words out, breathless and desperate for him to understand. “I don’t know how.”

“I felt you too,” Blaine admitted, voice thick and strained. “I knew it was you. I knew it was worth risking everything,” he said, gasping for air. “I don’t know how, I just knew.”

Kurt squirmed in his grip, trying desperately to get closer, to feel everything, pressing kisses over his jaw and capturing his mouth.

They rolled in the water like they’d done once before, tipping and turning together, lost in the taste of each other and the absolute awareness that they would always come back to this.

When Kurt pulled away, he brushed their noses together gently, twitching at the tickle of water over his lips.

“I know you have doubts that are… a part of you,” he began. “I know you can’t face some things yet, and there’s nothing wrong with that. You need time. You need to find your strength again, but it is there, Blaine. I’ve seen it.”

Blaine ducked his head, blinking away droplets and trying to steady his breathing.

“I know you can always choose not to do what I ask you to,” Kurt breathed. “And I love that I know that when you do something for me, it’s because you want to. But if you only obey me once ever again, please let it be this one thing.”

Glancing up, Blaine met his eyes seriously.

“Never doubt this. Because I will always be there when you wake up, Blaine. I will always love you.”

“Yes,” Blaine uttered, smiling softly. “I promise.”

Kurt loosened his grip slowly, floating and still clutching Blaine in the cage of his arms.

The water rushed and roared over the drains in the distance, the sound blending with the rustle of sprinkling rain on the surface and wind in the trees that stood outside the gates. It was cold, and the rain prickled their skin with an icy mist, blending with the lukewarm heat of the pool and driving them in and out of chattering cold as they clung to each other and sank down again to get warm.

The sound fell away as they drifted through the water, twisting in slow motion clutches and caresses to the floor of the pool, content to sit curled up in each other’s arms, lips sealed together, and breathe.


Comments

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The part about Kurt begging Blaine not to make him get a circle was killer. Fantastic update.

Once again, I have no words...

Oh sweet lord. This simultaneously broke my heart and put it back together again.

Beautiful chapter :)

HOW AM I SUPPOSED TO FEEL ABOUT THIS??????? D:D-xoxo

OMG are you trying to shock me? Because you clearly did! This hospital time was not good for my poor little shipper heart. But I loved the way Kurt embraced his dom-nature to make Blaine feel better

So beautiful! My Heart! I can't! This was just what I needed! Thank you..

I'm speechless, really. You write in such an amazing way and the feelings, the pain, the love in this chapter were almost palpable. Wonderful update!

the part about the circle. oh my god. i lost my shit. that was beautiful. the entire chapter was.

Beautiful in every way, especially the imagery

Absolutely beautiful. Bravo!

This chapter was simply stunning. Thank you for sharing. :

Oh my ugly creys... You are brilliant!!!! The circle part killed me, I swear I'm fucking dead. I'm a freaking zombie right now. And the pool part gave me happy tears... Just... Holy emotional rollercoaster Batman!!! I was just dragged up and down!!! Kurt laying in the hospital bed with Blaine and the things he was saying!!! God!!! YOU. ARE. BRILLIANT.

"I felt you..."Oh my god. This story is so incredibly romantic and emotional and just all the things you'd never expect from fanfiction. This single chapter is more powerful than the entire Glee season finale.

Kurt talking to Blaine in the hospital bed made me sob so much! It was beautifully written (like everything else*) thank you! Less than three, sashie*

Wow this made me cry it was great.

I WAS GOING TO HATE U IF U MADE BLAINE DIE, BUT U SAFE HE OK AND I LIKE U AGAIN. U SEE THE BOND BETWEEN THEM CAN NOT BE BROKEN, THEY WERE ALWAYS MENT TO BE TOGETHER. THIS STORY WAS ONE ON THE SWEETEST AND INTENSE ONE I HAVE READ.