Chapter Nine

The weeks that followed were beyond awkward and uncomfortable for all involved. Kurt and Finn were often forced together since Burt and Carole continued to see each other – a lot. They went out for dinner several times a week and on the days where they chose to stay in; one of them would be at the other’s house. Kurt had truly done a terrific job of setting them up - it was a true match made in heaven. But it certainly hadn’t been an easy few weeks. It was unpleasant from the very beginning – Finn wouldn’t even look at Kurt following the ballad fiasco and Kurt refused to talk to the other boy. Their parents noticed – it was hard not to. There was definite tension in the air.

Kurt noticed extra stress at school as well. He continued to be tormented in the hallways, was often tossed into the big green dumpster outside the school and was given multiple slushy facials by the members of the football team. It had seemed as though word was out – Kurt Hummel had a big gay crush on the very straight quarterback of the football team. He was officially the only “out” kid in school.

Even Glee was awkward, which was something Kurt was not accustomed to at all. Glee Club had been Kurt’s escape from reality for months. He often relied on the singing and choreography to keep him sane. But lately – it was anything but a safe haven. Puck, Finn and the other boys had a hard time interacting with Kurt and refused to sit anywhere near him. Even the girls kept their distance from Kurt. Not necessarily on purpose, but Kurt could feel a distance between them that he’d never noticed before. What hurt the most was that even his best friend Mercedes had drifted away from him ever-so-slightly. She had, up to that point, no problem with Kurt’s sexual orientation, but now it seemed that her desperation for popularity had suddenly overwritten her desire for companionship with Kurt.

 The realization that he and Finn would never work out had hit Kurt hard. He’d never really had a crush before (aside from a 30 second crush on Mr. Schue when Kurt had first met him, but his quirkiness and terrible fashion sense had quickly smothered any residual feelings.)

Kurt was miserable. He found himself walking down the hallways alone again and strategically avoiding certain areas that he knew Karofsky and his gang of misfits tended to wander. The abuse from the jocks had escalated once again. He was having problems with them on a daily basis now.

There was one thought that kept invading Kurt’s mind. A single detail that he couldn’t shake – What happened to Blaine?

The curly-haired boy had seemingly dropped off the face of the planet. Kurt hadn’t seen him since that fateful day in the hallway. He was never present with the other jocks as they cornered him in the hallways and Kurt hadn’t seen him in class either.

Kurt had actively watched out for him since that day; intentionally seeking him out in class, but the boy was nowhere to be seen. Kurt worried that he’d seriously injured him. He had, after all, shoved him pretty hard into the wall.

Kurt couldn’t help but replay that afternoon in his mind over and over again. The boy looked pretty roughed up for just getting shoved into a wall. He’d been holding his side and definitely had a limp as he’d struggled away from Kurt and sauntered down the hallway. Kurt couldn’t seriously have caused that much damage from one little shove, could he of?

Kurt was sickened as he recalled the conversation he’d had with Blaine only a few days prior, ‘Nudged a little bit hey? Is that what that was?’

He frowned in defeat as he walked to his next class.

Oh my god. I’ve turned into David Karofsky.

Kurt came to a realization in the middle of History class, so the moment the buzzer rang; he sprinted out of the classroom to continue his search.

It was time to seek out Blaine Anderson and set things right.

************

Kurt looked around the school during his lunch break but came up empty. He obviously wasn’t going to approach any of the football players and ask where their teammate hung out during his down time and he still adamantly refused to speak with Finn so Kurt resumed his search during study hall – the last period of the day.

If I was a jock, where would I hang out?

Kurt cringed as images of the girl’s locker room popped into his head. Ewwwww.

They seem to eat a lot. Hmmmm, but he wasn’t in the lunch room.

He continued down the hallway until he passed the familiar trophy case next to the gymnasium and came to an abrupt halt.

Duh. He’s probably in the gym.

Kurt stood outside the doors to the gym and quickly considered his options. Did he take a chance, enter the gym and just hope and pray to Gaga that none of the other jocks were in there and risk becoming part of the paint job on the gym walls? Or, did he play the safe card and just resume his search the following day?

I owe it to Blaine to make sure he’s okay.

Kurt sucked in a deep breath and slowly cracked open the doors. The lights were off in the main part of the leisure center, but he could see a dim light seeping out from under the fitness room door on the far side of the gym.

He quietly crept his way through the gym, keeping a hand fixed on the wall slowly sliding along it to maintain his balance in the dark as he got closer and closer. The cement walls were cool beneath his fingers. Kurt didn’t want to think about all the germs and other gross things that he might be picking up by touching the walls. He’d have to remember to double-wash and sanitize if and when he’d located Blaine.

As he approached the door, Kurt was happy to see that there was a tiny window in the door. He wouldn’t have to simply barge in to the weight room and risk being caught. He sneakily crept up to the door and peered through the tiny window.

 The first things he noticed were the vast pieces of exercise equipment which Kurt would have no idea how to use.  There was a long row of barbells along the one side of the room and mirrors along the opposite wall.  Several rows of red lockers in the middle of the room blocked the view of the remainder of the fitness area. Many large posters and signs adorned the walls including several “Titan Pride” paintings and prints.

 Kurt turned his head to the right as he peered over to the other side of the room and he couldn’t withhold the gasp that escaped his lips when his widened eyes finally focused on the single occupant of the room.

Blaine Anderson was standing next to a large red punching bag and was beating the ever-living shit out of it. He was wearing dark grey sweatpants and a white undershirt. Droplets of perspiration dripped down his face and neck and continued down past the neckline of the shirt. His face was flushed and his usually curly hair was plastered to his scalp with sweat. He’d obviously been putting up a good fight.

Kurt couldn’t help but stare as the boy continued his workout.

Blaine was standing with his knees bent and both fists clenched tight, held high protecting his face from what Kurt assumed might be a potential return attack. He would take a swing with his left hand, and then bounce on his toes several times before landing several consecutive right jabs.

Even through the closed door Kurt could hear the sounds that the boy was making with each forceful punch. Grunts and groans filled the room and Kurt felt his face flush and become warm.

Kurt’s eyes followed the quick and stealthy movements of the other boy as he carried on with his imaginary melee. He focus started at the boy’s feet, which were sockless in his trainers.

Kurt couldn’t help but notice the intricate footwork involved in the sport. He smiled when the thought crossed his mind that the boy would likely be a great dancer.

His eyes followed the boy’s compact body upwards. Kurt blushed again as he gazed at Blaine’s perfectly sculpted ass and the toned abdominal muscles rippling below the sweat-drenched thin cotton workout garments. He could see the definition of muscle in the boy’s chest and the thick biceps and triceps in each of his arms. The boy looked small in stature, but Kurt quickly realized he was anything but.

What grabbed Kurt’s attention the most, by far, was the intense look on the boy’s face.  His triangular eyebrows were knitted in what looked like anger, frustration and concentration all rolled into one. His mouth was held in a straight, non-moving line except when he let out the angry sounding grumbles and growls. His upper lip looked as though it was almost curled up in a snarl. And his eyes. Kurt had remembered the boy’s eyes as being a light honey-brown, but today they looked nearly pitch black. Kurt shuddered as he continued to peek through the tiny window.

He looks like he wants to murder someone. Christ! I hope it’s not me!

It was almost as though Blaine could feel someone watching him and he abruptly aborted his routine mid-punch and quickly turned around to face the door.

Kurt scrambled off to the side of the door and pressed his back to the cold cement wall of the gymnasium.

Had he been caught?

He held his breath and closed his eyes, waiting to hear the approaching footsteps.

His heart was drumming so hard in his chest that he was afraid that even if Blaine hadn’t heard him before, it might just give him away.

Shit shit shit!

The wait was almost painful. Like a prisoner waiting for the firing squad, Kurt continued to hold his breath, but after several minutes of pure silence, he released that mouthful of air as quietly as he could.

Did he dare peek into the window again?

In the horror movies he’d endured with his father that was always when the victim got caught by the psycho murderer. When they looked back into the window.

Kurt decided not to look back into the window.

He stayed flushed to the cool wall in the nearly pitch black gymnasium for several more minutes until he concluded that he was being stupid.

It’s not like I am not allowed in here. It’s the boy’s fitness room. Even if I did get caught, it’s not like I am forbidden to be here. What’s he going to do? Kill me?

Kurt shuddered again.

He remembered back to that day in the hallway when he’d pushed Blaine to the floor. The boy had seemed so weak and fragile that day. Now, only a few miniscule weeks later, it was as though Kurt was looking at an entirely different person. This Blaine looked tough. And mean.

Kurt decided at that moment that it was time for him to pull on his big-boy underwear and do what he’d initially set out to do.

He took a few deep breaths in attempt to compose himself and turned back to face the door into the fitness room. He grabbed the door handle with a shaky hand and quickly turned it and pushed the door open.

“Blaine, I know it’s been a few weeks and you probably really want to kick my ass, but I just wanted to say…”

Kurt halted his pre-planned speech when he realized he was speaking to an empty room.  The boy was nowhere to be seen.

Well fuck.

Slowly, Kurt made his way across the room and slipped between the rows of lockers towards the rear wall.  He didn’t want to surprise Blaine and end up with a broken nose. He’d just witnessed a display from a boy who obviously knew how to handle himself and Kurt had no desire to wind up on the wrong end of a left hook.

He could hear a noise coming from the change room so Kurt made his way in that direction. As he snuck closer, the noise turned into music.

He’s fucking singing. And he’s fucking good!

Kurt’s eyes widened as he crept closer; not wanting to interrupt the private concert that was taking place in the change room.

How does he go from being on a murderous rampage to singing Katy Perry? Is this kid bipolar or something?

Kurt shrugged as he considered the possibility but he continued to creep closer, not wanting to miss a second of the performance.

The singing got louder and more clear the closer he got until he realized that in his determination to hear more, he’d overlooked a crucial detail.

Blaine was in the shower.

Kurt’s eyes nearly popped out of his head when he realized that the boy was standing with his back to him in the shower, with beads of water dripping down the back of his head and neck and the bubbles from his shampoo drizzling down his torso.

His naked torso.

Kurt was immediately thankful that the cement dividers between the shower stalls blocked his vision of the bits of Blaine that he really didn’t need to see.

Kurt’s left eyebrow peaked.

Or did he?

Kurt considered retreating out of the change room for a miniscule half of a second, but the boy’s voice had him in a trance. His feet felt as though they were glued to the grimy locker room floor.

He sings like an angel.

Kurt was so enthralled with the song that he didn’t hear the water in the shower shut off. 

Somehow he must have also spaced out and missed it as Blaine turned around and took a few steps out of the shower towards him, still humming the last few bars of ‘Teenage Dream’.

At that moment, Blaine finally noticed that he had an audience and let out a surprised gasp.

He skidded to a stop, his wet feet nearly slipping out from underneath him on the cool tile floor.

Blaine feverishly re-positioned the small red towel that had, up to that point, only hung loosely over his manly bits and he looked up at Kurt with horror-struck eyes.

“Kurt! What the fuck?!?”