word length: 650
disclaimer: i do not own Kurt, Blaine, Glee, or any other characters mentioned from Glee herein. i make no profit from this work of fiction, etc, etc.
summary: 3x22 reaction ficlet.
a/n: i actually wrote this the night of the finale, but i didn’t post it. so here it is, far too late. i just need to do something with it because it’s been sitting in my docs without purpose and it’s bothering me. short, bit of angst, entirely unbeta’d, and rife with feelings. so. ye be warned, i suppose. i hope you enjoy it, no matter how irrelevant it is at this point.<3
endless gratitude to a lot of people, oh God. this - or variations of it - was dropped into a lot of different people’s submits so. if i sent this to you, thank you so much for being so tolerant of my word-vomit. i know for sure i need to mention Aubreyli, Certaintendencies, fairiesandmilkshakes, and kobean. if i forgot you, i ask for your forgiveness and express my thanks. it was an emotional night/week, so i promise it’s not personal.
master fic list can be found - here
There’s this sort of crushing feeling weighing Kurt down, and it’s too big and too heavy and too much for him to do anything but sit and feel it, can’t feel anything else but that. He can’t cry, can’t scream, can’t rant about the complete fucking injustice of the world he lives in. He can’t do anything – he can sit in his room and stare at nothing. That’s it.
He can’t meet anyone’s gaze because even that takes too much effort, and the tell-tale glimmer of tears in eyes heartbroken on his behalf is too much, just like everything else. Eventually even his dad leaves, quietly closing the door behind him, a quiet, if you need me, bud… his only words, soft and gruff and meant and nearly, nearly breaking down the weight.
Blaine’s the only one stubborn enough to stay put and something still awake in Kurt knows that it makes him feel like he can breathe a tiny bit easier; it’s infinitesimal and subtle, a quiet shift somewhere in his chest, but it’s there.
Blaine’s arms are around him, keeping him close, a well-known pressure around his body. He feels like his steel backbone has been hacked to pieces and he’s sinking into Blaine’s body just to keep himself from crumbling.
Blaine holds him like he knows all of Kurt’s broken places. Sweet Blaine, understanding Blaine; Blaine whose heart is strong because it needs to be - except for when it comes to Kurt, because then it’s twice as strong but twice as fragile too, all glass heart and glass bones; he breaks for Kurt. Eyes like moons and too aching for Kurt to behold because then he’ll fall apart and he doesn’t want it, doesn’t want the feeling, will take the heaviness over the sinking, clawing storm of devastation that will rip him to pieces.
Blaine presses his lips to Kurt’s forehead, his temple, his cheek.
Whispers in his ear, all hoarse-voiced and thread-thin cracks, “It’s okay, Kurt. It’s okay that – that it’s not.”
He doesn’t know why it’s that, of all things, that makes him feel like the words plucked the loose string of his heart and unraveled it. He heaves a gasp like he’s been holding his breath and climbs his way into Blaine’s lap and clings to him. Tears well and fall slow and hot and blurring his vision and then faster and heavier, hitching, painful half-breaths pressed into Blaine’s neck. Blaine’s holding him tight; strong and solid and still except for moving lips and hands that feel like they were made for soothing Kurt.
And Kurt - Kurt cries, and cries, and tries to breathe. Blaine’s hands shift, press into his back, heat seeping through his shirt, lips next to his ear, close to him in every way, and then he is breathing and Blaine is saying, soft and caught in his throat, thick, “I’m sorry, I love you, we’ll figure it out, you’re amazing, you’re amazing, don’t ever – “ and then Kurt is kissing him as fiercely as a storm, all salt-stained lips and tear-tracked face. Ravages Blaine’s mouth and aches with it and breathes with it and lets Blaine’s hands soothe the trembling in his limbs away and lets Blaine hold him up when his strength has been carved out of him.
They will figure it out. When Kurt feels like he can’t, Blaine will be there, telling him he can, and they will, they will, and later Kurt will re-evaluate what he wants for the rest of his life, will question his driving force, question what he thinks is his foundation, and the one constant will be Blaine, and that will be okay, that will be good, steadying, and welcome; a pinprick of joy that will grow back to its full strength as he gathers himself up from having everything in him shaken down to its skeleton-frame.
For now, he hurts, lost in it, letting Blaine hold him up until he can do it himself. And that’s okay, too.