Kurt doesn't realize how out of it he is until he burns the pudding. He's been stirring it for a while now, staring at the wall behind the stove and humming a bit, and when he glances down to see how it's thickening it's already a hard mass, cracking and stuck to the pan.
"Oh," Kurt says sadly, dropping the spoon on the stove top. He's really craving pudding, and there was only the one box stuck in the back of the pantry. Ordinarily he'd have made it from scratch, but he feels fucking awful- tired and headachey, his brain in a fog and every movement requiring way more effort than usual. The burnt smell hits him then, curling in his nostrils out of nowhere, how had he not noticed? Kurt turns on the exhaust fan and stares forlornly at his ruined pudding. It's not until it starts smoking that Kurt realizes he still hasn't shut off the burner.
"Maybe I shouldn't be alone right now," Kurt loudly tells the empty kitchen. He walks to the foyer to get his bag, only to turn around and return to the stove to actually click off the burner.
His phone's not in his bag, and after walking all the way up to his room it's not on his dresser, either. It's also not under his pillow charging, or on the countertop in the bathroom, or in the kitchen where he finds himself after circling the house. The sad pudding pot is mocking him from the stove, so Kurt gives it a very deliberate middle finger, before feeling utterly ridiculous and shoving his hands deep in the pockets of his long sweater.
Oh. There's his phone.
Kurt stares at his contact list and kind of wants to cry, in the way that being sick makes everything feel infinitely overwhelming. Dad and Carole are at work; there's a 50% chance Finn is playing video games with Puck, a 49% chance he's trying to get in his girlfriend's pants, and a 1% chance he's succeeding. That leaves Kurt with a 0% chance of family. Mercedes it is.
"Hi baby," says the surprisingly deep voice on the other end of the line. Kurt pulls it away from his ear to check the screen and sees Boyfriend <3 instead of Sister Cedes and frowns.
"Kurt? Are you there?" Blaine's voice comes out faint and tinny from the little speaker and Kurt scrambles to put it back to his ear, smacking himself in the process.
"Ouch, sorry, yes," Kurt breathes into the phone. "I should've called you first but I think I forgot I had a boyfriend for a second."
There's a pause, then an audible inhale. "Are you okay?"
"No," Kurt laments. "I burned the pudding." He was never going to get over it. Life was so frustrating.
"What?" Kurt asks after a beat. Blaine was saying something he couldn't hear, he'd gotten kinda distracted by how soft his sweater is, running his hands over his torso and down into the pockets while holding the phone up with his shoulder. "These pockets are so deep, honey, you could fit a fucking cat in here. I could have pockets full of kittens. Kitten pockets."
"Kurt, please don't take this the wrong way, but... are you high?"
"What?"
"Drugs. Did you take them."
"Oh, yeah, he gave me some. I don't think they've kicked in yet." Kurt had been to the doctor that afternoon and gotten a prescription for antibiotics to hopefully kill his sinus infection, but he wasn't expecting to feel any less disgusting for a few days at least.
"Where are you?"
Kurt looks around in confusion, head cocking to the side when he realizes he's in the hallway. He doesn't remember moving. "The hall. Why am I in the hall?"
"School hall or your house hall?"
"House." Kurt trails his fingertips along the wall as he moseys to the living room. "I'm gonna lie down, though. My head is so heavy."
Blaine keeps talking to him for a while, even though Kurt doesn't do much but mumble and make vague noises of agreement. He must fall asleep at some point, because then Blaine is shaking him awake and rattling a pill bottle in his face. Kurt swats it away-- okay, he mostly just flails his hand and Blaine moves it away of his own accord. Whatever. He's sick, people shouldn't be trying to make him do things.
