Who Says You Can't Go Home Again (Chapter 7/13)
About:
Media: fanfic
Pairings: Kurt/Blaine, Kurt/Rachel/Mercedes/Tina friendship
Rating: R
Warnings [for whole story] (highlight): sexual assault, bullying, hinting of eating disorder
Blaine played with a curl over his and Kurt's fettucine alfredo and spaghetti and meatballs. Kurt twirled the pasta around his fork, but couldn't bring himself to eat. He was surprisingly not nervous, but still couldn't manage to put the food into his mouth. Blaine, on the other hand, was stuffing pasta in his mouth with one hand, and gripping a garlic knot with the other.
"You okay?" Blaine asked, swallowing part of a meatball.
"Yeah... just. Yeah." Kurt muttered. Blaine glared at him for a minute, and words just started pouring out. "I thought I'd feel different, I guess. I've crushed on you since we met, Blaine. I expected there to be fireworks and love explosions and adult contemporary music playing in the background. Now that we're together, it's just..."
"Anti-climatic?" Blaine offered.
"You always know the right word." Kurt smiled.
"Will it make you feel better if I guarantee a kiss tonight on the way home?" Blaine asked, inching his pinky towards Kurt's hand.
"You saucy minx." Kurt laughed.
They finished up dinner, threw their coats back on, and began the short walk back to Hummel/Hudson house. They laughed and joked, trading backhanded compliments and flirty insults. About a block from Kurt's house, and mid-sentence, Blaine grabbed Kurt's hand. It was a staccato, quick maneuver, and it took Kurt by surprise. Blaine's hand was surprisingly rough, callused from years of dabbling in every instrument imaginable. It was warm, dry, but comfortable, like a blanket right out of the dryer. Kurt was so shocked, he stopped mid-step, and made Blaine stumble.
"Sorry." Blaine muttered.
"Don't be. Just... surprised." Kurt shrugged.
They stood still for a minute, the streetlamps flickering on and off behind them. Somewhere in the distance, a car with extra-loud bass drove closer, then further away from them. A car alarm went off. But Kurt was deaf to every sound around him except the noise of Blaine's breath going in and out of his lips. Their faces were a foot apart, then a few inches. Then, it just happened.
He was kissing Blaine Anderson.
Whereas Blaine's hands were callused and rough, his lips were soft and sweet. He tasted a little garlicky, but in a pleasant way. Kurt could feel Blaine's chin stubble on his face. There was a hand in Kurt's hair, another hand on the small of his back, a nibble on his lower lip. He wanted to melt into Blaine's lips permanently, just to stay in that moment forever.
After forever and not long enough, Blaine broke the kiss, his breathing ragged in Kurt's ears. Kurt leaned his head forward, exhausted, into Blaine's shoulder. Blaine's hand was still on Kurt's back. They just stood together for a minute, neither wanting to break the high they were both riding.
Kurt decided to break the silence first. "It's getting late. I should get home."
"I'm parked down the street. I'll walk you home." Blaine agreed. They grabbed hands again, this time intertwining their fingers.
They kept their relationship fairly secret at school. Being in a gay couple at their school could have big consequences, not only from other students, but from the not-always-supportive administration. The Glee club knew they were together the second Blaine and Kurt walked into the classroom the next morning. Mercedes, who had a sixth sense about couples, announced, "You guys kissed."
"Pardon?" Blaine asked, taken aback.
"You kissed. You guys are together." Mercedes repeated.
"How do you do that?" Kurt asked.
"So you are?" Rachel squealed, far too excited.
"Yes." Kurt and Blaine said in unison.
Wednesday, Thursday, and Friday came around without incident. Kurt saw Karofsky once or twice in the hallway, but managed to duck behind a taller person before they met eyes. Kurt caught up with his classmates in class, and even started answering questions and joining in discussions. He and Blaine practiced the Glee club's songs for Regionals in between kisses on their parents' couches. All in all, it was looking to be a decent rest of the semester. Kurt was even getting comfortable with the idea of staying at McKinley for the next school year.
In the middle of the next week, Kurt excused himself to the bathroom during English. As he was washing his hands, he felt someone standing behind him, staring at him. He turned around, begrudgingly, to see Karofsky behind him.
"Your boyfriend's not here, is he?" Karofsky snarled.
"What do you want?" Kurt sighed, trying to look braver than he felt.
"I'm sick of having you and your fucking queer face at this school."
"My queer face isn't exactly thrilled to be here either."
Karofsky stared at Kurt for a minute, and Kurt was hopeful that he had finally shut the bully up. "Get down on your knees." Karofsky growled.
Kurt's face turned white. "What?"
"I said down on your fucking knees." Karofsky put his hands on Kurt's shoulders and forced him down to the ground. He began unbuckling his belt.
"What do you want from me?" Kurt shouted, tears forming in his eyes.
Karofsky just formed a smile that made Kurt's blood run cold, and unbuttoned his jeans.
Twenty minutes later, the bell rang, and Kurt was curled up in between the wall of a bathroom stall and the toilet. There was a bit of dried vomit next to the seat, his vomit. His breath was uneven, shallow. His eyes were red and swollen. Karofsky had left, gone back to class, but Kurt couldn't move. He sang to himself, softly, trying to calm himself and stop the next round of vomit that he could feel rising in his throat.
Footsteps echoed on the cold tile. Kurt would have recognized the scuffed, torn Converses anywhere. He desperately wished to be invisible, to disappear before the owner of those shoes found him. But it was too late.
"Kurt? What are you doing here?" Puck asked, shocked to find his usually-fastidious friend curled up on the disgusting bathroom floor.
Kurt shrugged.
"Are you okay?"
Kurt shook his head no.
"What happened?"
Kurt closed his eyes and tried to become invisible. It didn't work. Puck grabbed his shoulders to help him up.
"Don't touch me!" Kurt yelled, his voice like a stranger's, bouncing off the concrete walls. "Don't ever touch me!" He pushed Puck's hands away, hitting, scratching, punching the air.
Puck stood, silent, staring at Kurt's tear-streaked face. "What happened?" He asked again.
"Nothing." Kurt shrugged, more tears coming out of his eyes.
Media: fanfic
Pairings: Kurt/Blaine, Kurt/Rachel/Mercedes/Tina friendship
Rating: R
Warnings [for whole story] (highlight): sexual assault, bullying, hinting of eating disorder
Blaine played with a curl over his and Kurt's fettucine alfredo and spaghetti and meatballs. Kurt twirled the pasta around his fork, but couldn't bring himself to eat. He was surprisingly not nervous, but still couldn't manage to put the food into his mouth. Blaine, on the other hand, was stuffing pasta in his mouth with one hand, and gripping a garlic knot with the other.
"You okay?" Blaine asked, swallowing part of a meatball.
"Yeah... just. Yeah." Kurt muttered. Blaine glared at him for a minute, and words just started pouring out. "I thought I'd feel different, I guess. I've crushed on you since we met, Blaine. I expected there to be fireworks and love explosions and adult contemporary music playing in the background. Now that we're together, it's just..."
"Anti-climatic?" Blaine offered.
"You always know the right word." Kurt smiled.
"Will it make you feel better if I guarantee a kiss tonight on the way home?" Blaine asked, inching his pinky towards Kurt's hand.
"You saucy minx." Kurt laughed.
They finished up dinner, threw their coats back on, and began the short walk back to Hummel/Hudson house. They laughed and joked, trading backhanded compliments and flirty insults. About a block from Kurt's house, and mid-sentence, Blaine grabbed Kurt's hand. It was a staccato, quick maneuver, and it took Kurt by surprise. Blaine's hand was surprisingly rough, callused from years of dabbling in every instrument imaginable. It was warm, dry, but comfortable, like a blanket right out of the dryer. Kurt was so shocked, he stopped mid-step, and made Blaine stumble.
"Sorry." Blaine muttered.
"Don't be. Just... surprised." Kurt shrugged.
They stood still for a minute, the streetlamps flickering on and off behind them. Somewhere in the distance, a car with extra-loud bass drove closer, then further away from them. A car alarm went off. But Kurt was deaf to every sound around him except the noise of Blaine's breath going in and out of his lips. Their faces were a foot apart, then a few inches. Then, it just happened.
He was kissing Blaine Anderson.
Whereas Blaine's hands were callused and rough, his lips were soft and sweet. He tasted a little garlicky, but in a pleasant way. Kurt could feel Blaine's chin stubble on his face. There was a hand in Kurt's hair, another hand on the small of his back, a nibble on his lower lip. He wanted to melt into Blaine's lips permanently, just to stay in that moment forever.
After forever and not long enough, Blaine broke the kiss, his breathing ragged in Kurt's ears. Kurt leaned his head forward, exhausted, into Blaine's shoulder. Blaine's hand was still on Kurt's back. They just stood together for a minute, neither wanting to break the high they were both riding.
Kurt decided to break the silence first. "It's getting late. I should get home."
"I'm parked down the street. I'll walk you home." Blaine agreed. They grabbed hands again, this time intertwining their fingers.
They kept their relationship fairly secret at school. Being in a gay couple at their school could have big consequences, not only from other students, but from the not-always-supportive administration. The Glee club knew they were together the second Blaine and Kurt walked into the classroom the next morning. Mercedes, who had a sixth sense about couples, announced, "You guys kissed."
"Pardon?" Blaine asked, taken aback.
"You kissed. You guys are together." Mercedes repeated.
"How do you do that?" Kurt asked.
"So you are?" Rachel squealed, far too excited.
"Yes." Kurt and Blaine said in unison.
Wednesday, Thursday, and Friday came around without incident. Kurt saw Karofsky once or twice in the hallway, but managed to duck behind a taller person before they met eyes. Kurt caught up with his classmates in class, and even started answering questions and joining in discussions. He and Blaine practiced the Glee club's songs for Regionals in between kisses on their parents' couches. All in all, it was looking to be a decent rest of the semester. Kurt was even getting comfortable with the idea of staying at McKinley for the next school year.
In the middle of the next week, Kurt excused himself to the bathroom during English. As he was washing his hands, he felt someone standing behind him, staring at him. He turned around, begrudgingly, to see Karofsky behind him.
"Your boyfriend's not here, is he?" Karofsky snarled.
"What do you want?" Kurt sighed, trying to look braver than he felt.
"I'm sick of having you and your fucking queer face at this school."
"My queer face isn't exactly thrilled to be here either."
Karofsky stared at Kurt for a minute, and Kurt was hopeful that he had finally shut the bully up. "Get down on your knees." Karofsky growled.
Kurt's face turned white. "What?"
"I said down on your fucking knees." Karofsky put his hands on Kurt's shoulders and forced him down to the ground. He began unbuckling his belt.
"What do you want from me?" Kurt shouted, tears forming in his eyes.
Karofsky just formed a smile that made Kurt's blood run cold, and unbuttoned his jeans.
Twenty minutes later, the bell rang, and Kurt was curled up in between the wall of a bathroom stall and the toilet. There was a bit of dried vomit next to the seat, his vomit. His breath was uneven, shallow. His eyes were red and swollen. Karofsky had left, gone back to class, but Kurt couldn't move. He sang to himself, softly, trying to calm himself and stop the next round of vomit that he could feel rising in his throat.
Footsteps echoed on the cold tile. Kurt would have recognized the scuffed, torn Converses anywhere. He desperately wished to be invisible, to disappear before the owner of those shoes found him. But it was too late.
"Kurt? What are you doing here?" Puck asked, shocked to find his usually-fastidious friend curled up on the disgusting bathroom floor.
Kurt shrugged.
"Are you okay?"
Kurt shook his head no.
"What happened?"
Kurt closed his eyes and tried to become invisible. It didn't work. Puck grabbed his shoulders to help him up.
"Don't touch me!" Kurt yelled, his voice like a stranger's, bouncing off the concrete walls. "Don't ever touch me!" He pushed Puck's hands away, hitting, scratching, punching the air.
Puck stood, silent, staring at Kurt's tear-streaked face. "What happened?" He asked again.
"Nothing." Kurt shrugged, more tears coming out of his eyes.