Warnings for mentions of suicide as well as the events in episodes On My Way and 2009. Warnings for homophobic slurs as well
The next morning, I wake up to the continuous ringing of my phone. I groan and reach a hand over to grab it, my arm instead falling on warm flesh. I jolt awake before I can remember that the person lying asleep besides me was my boyfriend. I smile as Blaine continues to sleep, his bare chest rising and falling with his breaths. My phone rings again and I quickly find that it's still in my pants which lay forgotten on the floor. Quickly, I grab it, trying not to wake Blaine up.
"What is it? And why are they calling you this early in the morning?" Blaine groans as I dig through my pant pocket to grab my phone. I groan as I see it's a text from Rachel.
"It's Rachel," I say, falling back into bed, this time with my phone. I open the text she sent, confused.
Saw this on a TMZ's website this morning. Figured you should warn Blaine. And what were you doing with Karofsky yesterday?? She sends a link to the website, and I open it.
"Oh, fuck," I whisper, looking at the picture of me and Dave at Breadstix yesterday. The headline makes it seem like I'm cheating on Blaine with him, which causes my stomach to clench in more ways than one. Blaine eyes the picture curiously, looking up at me without an obvious expression.
"Anything you want to tell me?" He asks.
"It's not what it looks like. I mean, yes, it is. But they have it all wrong," I stammer quickly.
"What were you two talking about?" He asks. I sigh, knowing I'll have to explain a lot. Not just to him, but to Rachel as well.
"It's a long story, and you're not going to like any of it," I start, looking down at him. Blaine moves to sit up, and I miss the warmth of his head on my chest instantly. Instead, I sit up as well, resting my back against the headboard of my bed, facing him.
"So, you know how I told you last semester about the bully who kissed me?" I ask, carefully watching Blaine's face for emotion.
"You mean?" He raises his eyebrows in surprise. I nod in answer to his unspoken question.
"Yeah, that's him. He transferred schools a while ago, after he got suspended. Which I think I told you about? Anyways, all week he apparently had been sending me notes, all signed by your secret admirer. I didn't bring it up because honestly, I thought they were from you trying to be cute. But yesterday he asked to meet, and told me that he liked me. I sat him down and told him that I was with you, and that I was happy and we would pretty much never happen. I probably handled that in like the worst way possible, but I mean, I was in shock," I sigh, glancing up to look at Blaine. He sighs and reaches over to grab my hand, which makes me feel better.
"And that's not even the worst part. I'm pretty sure he outed by a guy at his school who was there, and this picture just isn't going to help matters any," I continue.
"We have to have Julie issue a press release saying that the gossip is wrong. We can say you two were just friends hanging out. Try to keep what happened a secret?" Blaine suggests.
"Yeah, I agree. I'd feel terrible if this was how he was outed to people. As someone who doesn't believe in outing at all, this makes me feel really bad," I admit. Blaine scoots closer and wraps his arms around me, pulling my body into his. I gladly lay my head on his chest, letting him envelop me.
"I know you do. I'm sorry people try to twist everything up, especially the tabloids," Blaine says.
"I guess now would be a bad time to mention how I was hit on in a coffee shop then, huh?" I say. Blaine laughs, and I can't help but chuckle along with him, the somber mood lifted.
"God my boyfriend is a boy magnet," he laughs, and I roll my eyes at his laughter. We stay in that position for several long moments, and I even close my eyes just to stay in this moment for even longer.
"We should get up. I need to make us breakfast, and I'm sure you need to give Julie a call," I eventually tell him. Blaine sighs, tightening his hold on me briefly before letting go. I practically groan as I get up off the bed, running a hand through my hair to push it away from my face. I grab my phone and head downstairs to the kitchen, giving Blaine privacy to talk to Julie as well as take a shower should he want to.
I quickly get started on breakfast, cooking for just the two of us because I have no clue where Finn is, nor do I know where my dad and Carole went off to. I dimly hear the shower start, and assume that Blaine is done talking with Julie and decided to take a quick shower. And I'm proven right when he walks down about ten minutes later, dressed in an old pair of my sweatpants and t-shirt from my cheerleading days and curls damp on his head. I smile when is see his curls, free from the gel it's always imprisoned in.
"Hey," I say, pulling the eggs off the stove and scraping half of them onto one plate, and the other half on another. I grab the silverware and smile at him.
"Hi," he grins, accepting the plate I hand him. We eat there in the kitchen on the island table.
"What time's your flight today?" I ask, curious how much time we actually are going to have together today. I know that he's going to be pretty busy these next couple weeks, getting back to work after his injury.
"I take off at six tonight. So I should probably get to the airport about five," he explains. I nod, mentally going over various things we could do today.
"Did you have any ideas what you wanted to do?" I ask him, curious what he was thinking. He smiles and grins, a mischievous glint in his eyes that I know all too well.
"No way, mister. I have no clue when my dad is coming home with Carole and the last thing I want him walking in on is us in my bed," I immediately say, although part of me definitely doesn't want to reject his idea. In fact, part of me is in complete agreement of his plan, but am serious about not wanting my dad to walk in on me and my boyfriend.
"Alright, party pooper. How about we hang out here, having a movie marathon? I just want to be with you today, no distractions," Blaine suggests. I smile graciously at his suggestion, and immediately agree.
So that's how we spend the rest of the day. Blaine grabs several movies from my collection and I grab pillows and blankets. We make ourselves comfortable on the living room floor and watch movies the entire day. My dad and Carole come home about noon, giggling like teenagers when I look at them pointedly, resisting the urge to make a disapproving glare. A bit hypocritical considering the events Blaine and I got up to last night after all.
But unfortunately, it got to be time that Blaine had to go to the airport. Dad immediately offers to drive us, but I turn him down, wanting to spend my last couple hours with Blaine alone. The drive from my house to the airport is over way too quickly, as it always is whenever I'm dropping him off. We stay in my car, kissing each other goodbye, knowing we won't be able to kiss each other for an unknown amount of time. At the very least, I have until my spring break in about a month when I'll be free. Blaine will probably be busy with creating another album, but he might be able to come visit.
"I can write songs anywhere, anyways," he told me.
I watch him retreat into the airport, the smile dropping from my face as I watch him walk away. The familiar ache in my heart begins, an ache that only goes away when he's there next to me. I sigh as I put the car back into drive, pulling out and driving back home.
*****
The Rumors Are False!
Kurt Hummel, boyfriend to singer/songwriter Blaine Anderson, was subjected to many cheating rumors last week when photos of him with another guy surfaced on Valentine's Day. Hummel appeared to be deep in conversation with the man, both seemingly oblivious to surroundings. However, Anderson's team dispelled the rumors quickly, stating that the two are just friends.
"Blaine actually flew to Ohio to surprise Kurt for Valentine's Day the minute his doctor cleared him," Julia Chard, Blaine's publicist and manager, says. Photos of the two of them can be found here.
Thankfully, it doesn't seem like this couple is going through any issues! That's a big relief to many of Blaine's fans, as they have already dubbed the two 'Klaine.'
I roll my eyes as I read the article, handing Rachel back her phone. I lean against the lockers as she grabs her books out of her own locker.
"Are you ever going to tell me why you and Karofsky were talking?" Rachel asks, accepting her phone back. I sigh, crossing my arms over my chest.
"I already told you. We ran into each other and talked. He apologized for his actions last semester and told me about his new school," I tell her, trying to steer clear from talking about Karofsky. I may have forgiven him for what he did to me, but it still makes me uncomfortable to talk about.
"I still find it weird that you and him were talking. He made your life a living hell, and you're just forgiving him? Like that?" Rachel asks, looking at me like I'm an idiot. I glare at her, trying to get off this topic.
"Of course I didn't forget, Rachel," I snap, looking away from her angrily to see Mr. Shue walking down the hall quickly. I wave at him as he passes, but he doesn't seem to see me and instead of walking into his room, walks instead the opposite direction. I look at him, confused, and seconds later Coach Beiste is heading the same direction.
"Come on, we have to get to glee. I wish Mr. Shue would stop scheduling them in the morning, it takes my vocal chords until at least ten am to perform at full capacity," she says, interrupting my confusion. I shake it off and follow her to glee, waiting for Mr. Shue to appear.
He never does, and most of the glee club is immediately worried. Luckily, Finn has Spanish with him first period, and sends a mass text saying Mr. Shue is fine. That the reason he wasn't at glee was because he was called into Principal Figgins's along with Sue, Ms. Pillsbury, and Coach Beiste.
It wasn't until third period that I started to think something was wrong. Coach Beiste walked into my class, talking with my speech teacher with hushed whispers. He nods, and one of the football players is called out of class. He doesn't return at all, and I don't think anything of his absence. During passing period, I notice him at his locker, stunned. His friends surround him, and he seems deep in conversation with Azimio.
At lunch, I see most of the football players aren't the loud and boisterous group they normally are. Instead, they sit at their usual table talking lowly, glaring at anybody who looks at them for too long.
"What's going on with the football players today?" I ask Rachel. She looks at me surprised.
"You didn't hear?" She asks. The other glee club members seem interested in the conversation, the conversations turning silent as everyone listens in.
"Yeah, I noticed it during first today. Ms. Pillsbury called out Azimio and he didn't come back at all," Mike chimes in.
"It's all over Facebook," Rachel starts. "Apparently, Karofsky's in the hospital," she continues.
"Why? Did he get into a car wreck?" Tina asks.
"Nope. Apparently he decided to give himself a belt for a necklace," Santana chimes in, and despite her harsh comment, the tone she says it in was much kinder than it normally is.
"Wait, he committed suicide?" Tina's eyes widen in surprise. My heart seems to stop cold.
"He tried to. His dad got him down in time," Rachel states. I swallow past the lump in my throat before I can speak.
"Why?" I manage to choke out.
"From what I saw, his classmates outed him for being gay," Rachel softly tells me. I blink, grabbing the tray of food and quickly getting up.
"I have to go," I announce, ignoring the confused looks on my friends faces as I throw away all the uneaten food and quickly head to the auditorium, needing the peace and sanctuary it brings me. I sit on the empty stage, pulling out my phone and opening Facebook. My hands shaking as I pull up Karofsky's.
Go back in the fucking closet, faggot.
Don't come back to school-or else.
Why don't you go do us all a favor and kill yourself?
Fucking Fag.
I scroll through all the hate, unshed tears brimming in my eyes. I gasp as I see the most recent ones, unable to understand how people can hold so much hate.
Better luck next time.
Why don't you try a gun the next time you try?
I clench my hands into fists, turning my phone off. I instantly remember sophomore year before glee club started. The dark place I was in.
The pamphlet I looked at.
I stand up suddenly, trying to stop thinking about that. I look around, not seeing anybody, but knowing I need to get everything off my chest. I take a deep breath, the words to the song just tumbling out of me.
"Put your makeup on
Get your nails done
Curl your hair
Run the extra mile
Keep it slim so they like you, do they like you?" I start, looking out at the blank audience. I close my eyes as I continue the song, and when I open them again I'm looking at sophomore me.
"You gotta get up and try, try, try, try," I see Karofsky now, the image of him hanging burned into my mind. It's probably nothing like what actually happened, but it's what I think would have happened.
I continue with the song, Karofsky slowly slipping out of the meaning and starting to sing to myself. The last notes are ringing through the air, and I stand there in the middle of the stage, my fists clenched and tears flowing freely down my cheeks. My back to the audience as I look towards the back of the stage.
"You okay, Kurt?" Mr. Shue's voice startles me. I jump, immediately reaching up and trying to wipe the tears from my eyes. I think of how many times somebody's asked me that question, how many times I lied in answer.
"Not really," I find myself saying, turning around to see him walking down the stairs and towards the stage. He doesn't say anything else until he walks up the steps to the stage.
"You heard about David, didn't you?" He asks. I nod, my posture a little too stiff as he slowly approached. I swallow, my throat suddenly too dry.
"But that song wasn't just for David, was it?" He asks gently, looking at me with that look. The look that only certain people have, the one that says they actually do care. The one that says you can tell me. The only person I know that has that look was my dad and Mr. Shue.
"It was at first," I tell him honestly, unable to look fully into his eyes. Instead, I look at his forehead, then his nose, and when I finally look him in the eye, the tears I just cried seem to well up again. He doesn't say anything, but instead just pulls me into a tight hug. I squeeze my eyes shut as my throat tightens, letting myself fall into the embrace of my mentor.
"Lay it on me, Kurt," he says. I take a deep breath, not wanting to go into detail. I told myself I wouldn't tell anybody, knowing that they would look at me different, like I was broken. So I don't tell him about the pamphlet Ms. Pillsbury had. I don't tell him about my dad threatening to take away my sewing machine if I didn't join a team. I don't tell him about all the dark thoughts I've ever had. Instead, I keep it simple.
"Thank you for coaching glee club," is all I say. But apparently it speaks volumes with Mr. Shue. He pulls away, and when he speaks his voice cracks a little.
"Kurt," he coughs to get his voice back down to its normal tone, "how would you like to sing that for regionals?" He asks. I look at him, a small smile on my face at the thought. As much as getting a solo means to me, I know that isn't the most important thing in the world right now.
"I'd love to, Mr. Shue," I tell him. The bell rings, causing both of us to jump in surprise. We both let out a little laugh, the serious mood between us lessening.
"Come on, you should get to class," he says, and we both head out of the auditorium together. I take a deep breath before editing the safety of the auditorium, knowing I still have so much more I still need to do before any of this will be remotely fine.