fic: i dreamt the world stopped turning (2/?)
Title: I Dreamt The World Stopped Turning (2/?)
Rating: PG-13.
Warnings: Mention of alcohol abuse.
Wordcount: 1200
Spoilers: Season 4 spoilers/speculation.
Summary: Being apart is harder than expected, and finding each other again is even harder.
A/N: Also on my Tumblr. Apparently I can't write long chapters. Maybe they'll get longer, I don't know.
Blaine remembers the airport, the desperate rush to get onto a plane and out of the city. New York had too many memories for somewhere he’d only been for a couple of hours, too much temptation to turn around and beg Kurt to take him back. He had to get out. He remembers promising Rachel he’d tell her if he got a seat on a flight, and quickly typing out a text to her before he had to turn his phone off. He remembers feeling tears roll down his cheeks, overwhelmed with it all as the plane took off and the city and Kurt became smaller and more distant beneath him. He remembers Tina unexpectedly meeting him at the arrivals gate despite it being the middle of the night, and he remembers slumping in her arms, so grateful for once that Rachel couldn’t keep her mouth shut, until she bundled him into her car. He remembers Tina talking quietly and singing softly on the drive back to Lima as he fell asleep with his cheek pressed against the cool glass. He remembers being dragged from the car into Tina’s house and up into her bedroom. He remembers batting ineffectually at her hands as she began to take his pants off. He remembers her laughing, “You’re gay and I’m taken, I think we’re okay here,” and putting him into her bed. He remembers feeling her press against his back, wrapping her arms around him and holding him tightly as sobs wracked his chest and he wished he could take it all back.
In the morning, he’s fine. He wakes up to the sensation that something is different, but his brain hasn’t caught up and his eyes haven’t opened. He feels wrung out, exhausted as though he hasn’t slept at all. The bed feels harder than he’s used to and the air smells different - not like the familiar nothingness of his bedroom, or the jasmine and smoke of Kurt’s favorite scented candles. It smells like a different kind of washing powder on the sheets and the dewy warmth of vanilla steam swirling into his nostrils.
When Blaine opens his eyes, he remembers everything with agonizing clarity. Tina has brought cups of vanilla chai and a plate of buttered toast. Blaine takes the tea, his stomach turning at the thought of food, and Tina absent-mindedly pets his hair as he sips it and tries to relax. They talk sporadically: small talk, unimportant talk, anything-but-Kurt talk. How the new Glee kids are holding up and songs they should duet on at Sectionals and ways to stop Brittany and Sugar cooking up ridiculous schemes and flirting with Artie so he’ll go along with them. Blaine almost forgets again. A smattering of tiny moments when everything seems normal, and then it hurts like a knife to his gut when it isn’t. He wishes he had something to dull the pain. He wishes he had access to enough alcohol to drink himself into oblivion, but he didn’t take his share from the summer supply because he had nowhere safe to hide it. Tina didn’t take hers either - her parents run a strictly alcohol-free household, so there’s no chance. Besides, Kurt would probably hate him for doing it.
Kurt probably hates him anyway.
The realization smacks him in the face while Tina is making more tea, and it’s not one Blaine can handle on his own. Twenty-four hours ago, Kurt loved him. Now, he hates him and it’s Blaine’s fault but he doesn’t know how to live in a world where Kurt isn’t beside him. He tries to swallow a sob, but he’s been close since he woke up and he can’t hold it any longer.
“It was supposed to make things easier,” Blaine says, looking up with brimming eyes when Tina returns with a tray of steaming cups. She just holds him tight, whispers soothing words, and waits for the storm to pass.
He’s determined that that’s going to be the last time he cries - he caused this, he reasons, he isn’t meant to cry over it. He borrows Tina’s laptop to check his Facebook, because it seems like a good idea. It feels like his life has spiraled too much too quickly and he thinks that remembering that people still take photos of their dinner and people still post item requests for endless games will ground him. Of course, the first thing on his newsfeed is a little pink heart with the words ‘Kurt Hummel went from in a relationship to single.’ The comments mostly contains messages of *hugs* and I’m so sorry Kurt and little sad faces. Blaine briefly wonders if he’ll get a similar comment thread when he changes his status, but he knows he won’t. He knows it’s only a website, but the thought makes him feel incredibly lonely. Most of his friends were Kurt’s friends first and he knows that Kurt’s the side they’ll choose. He doesn’t want there to be sides at all.
Blaine turns up at Tina’s locker on Monday morning with a bouquet of dark pink and yellow roses, which an internet search told him means gratitude and friendship. She hugs him tight and accepts the box of chocolates Blaine has bought for Tina’s parents, who were nice enough to make him dinner and not question why a boy arrived at their house in the middle of the night and camped out in their daughter’s bedroom for an entire day.
“You’re smiling,” Tina notes as they walk to first period biology together. Blaine nods, clutching his textbook a little tighter and wishing he didn’t flinch every time he saw someone holding a slushie cup turn the corner.
“Life goes on,” he shrugs, ducking into the classroom and settling behind a bench, and he really wishes it were that simple. Tina frowns as she sits beside him, and Blaine can tell she’s not buying it but he won’t let that stop him. He just needs to get better at lying. Cooper would probably give him a thousand useless tips on keeping character, but calling his brother would mean explaining the break up and reliving it again, and Blaine can’t face that right now.
He’s going to keep distracted, keep smiling, keep trying to please all of the people all of the time. He won’t think about the constant, dull ache in his stomach that intensifies every time he sees something that reminds him of Kurt. He won’t think about the horrible mistake he made and how it seems impossible to fix. He won’t think about how Kurt unfriended him and now he can’t even flip through his photos, see how happy he is in New York, and know that breaking up was the best decision. He won’t think about any of it until the final bell rings, his homework is done, he has had the obligatory awkward dinner conversation with his parents, and he can curl up in his bed, engulfing himself in sheets and darkness. Only then will he let it overtake, until he falls asleep with the pillow damp against his skin. He’ll get there. He knows he will. It’s just going to take a little longer than he’s willing to let on.
Rating: PG-13.
Warnings: Mention of alcohol abuse.
Wordcount: 1200
Spoilers: Season 4 spoilers/speculation.
Summary: Being apart is harder than expected, and finding each other again is even harder.
A/N: Also on my Tumblr. Apparently I can't write long chapters. Maybe they'll get longer, I don't know.
Blaine remembers the airport, the desperate rush to get onto a plane and out of the city. New York had too many memories for somewhere he’d only been for a couple of hours, too much temptation to turn around and beg Kurt to take him back. He had to get out. He remembers promising Rachel he’d tell her if he got a seat on a flight, and quickly typing out a text to her before he had to turn his phone off. He remembers feeling tears roll down his cheeks, overwhelmed with it all as the plane took off and the city and Kurt became smaller and more distant beneath him. He remembers Tina unexpectedly meeting him at the arrivals gate despite it being the middle of the night, and he remembers slumping in her arms, so grateful for once that Rachel couldn’t keep her mouth shut, until she bundled him into her car. He remembers Tina talking quietly and singing softly on the drive back to Lima as he fell asleep with his cheek pressed against the cool glass. He remembers being dragged from the car into Tina’s house and up into her bedroom. He remembers batting ineffectually at her hands as she began to take his pants off. He remembers her laughing, “You’re gay and I’m taken, I think we’re okay here,” and putting him into her bed. He remembers feeling her press against his back, wrapping her arms around him and holding him tightly as sobs wracked his chest and he wished he could take it all back.
In the morning, he’s fine. He wakes up to the sensation that something is different, but his brain hasn’t caught up and his eyes haven’t opened. He feels wrung out, exhausted as though he hasn’t slept at all. The bed feels harder than he’s used to and the air smells different - not like the familiar nothingness of his bedroom, or the jasmine and smoke of Kurt’s favorite scented candles. It smells like a different kind of washing powder on the sheets and the dewy warmth of vanilla steam swirling into his nostrils.
When Blaine opens his eyes, he remembers everything with agonizing clarity. Tina has brought cups of vanilla chai and a plate of buttered toast. Blaine takes the tea, his stomach turning at the thought of food, and Tina absent-mindedly pets his hair as he sips it and tries to relax. They talk sporadically: small talk, unimportant talk, anything-but-Kurt talk. How the new Glee kids are holding up and songs they should duet on at Sectionals and ways to stop Brittany and Sugar cooking up ridiculous schemes and flirting with Artie so he’ll go along with them. Blaine almost forgets again. A smattering of tiny moments when everything seems normal, and then it hurts like a knife to his gut when it isn’t. He wishes he had something to dull the pain. He wishes he had access to enough alcohol to drink himself into oblivion, but he didn’t take his share from the summer supply because he had nowhere safe to hide it. Tina didn’t take hers either - her parents run a strictly alcohol-free household, so there’s no chance. Besides, Kurt would probably hate him for doing it.
Kurt probably hates him anyway.
The realization smacks him in the face while Tina is making more tea, and it’s not one Blaine can handle on his own. Twenty-four hours ago, Kurt loved him. Now, he hates him and it’s Blaine’s fault but he doesn’t know how to live in a world where Kurt isn’t beside him. He tries to swallow a sob, but he’s been close since he woke up and he can’t hold it any longer.
“It was supposed to make things easier,” Blaine says, looking up with brimming eyes when Tina returns with a tray of steaming cups. She just holds him tight, whispers soothing words, and waits for the storm to pass.
He’s determined that that’s going to be the last time he cries - he caused this, he reasons, he isn’t meant to cry over it. He borrows Tina’s laptop to check his Facebook, because it seems like a good idea. It feels like his life has spiraled too much too quickly and he thinks that remembering that people still take photos of their dinner and people still post item requests for endless games will ground him. Of course, the first thing on his newsfeed is a little pink heart with the words ‘Kurt Hummel went from in a relationship to single.’ The comments mostly contains messages of *hugs* and I’m so sorry Kurt and little sad faces. Blaine briefly wonders if he’ll get a similar comment thread when he changes his status, but he knows he won’t. He knows it’s only a website, but the thought makes him feel incredibly lonely. Most of his friends were Kurt’s friends first and he knows that Kurt’s the side they’ll choose. He doesn’t want there to be sides at all.
Blaine turns up at Tina’s locker on Monday morning with a bouquet of dark pink and yellow roses, which an internet search told him means gratitude and friendship. She hugs him tight and accepts the box of chocolates Blaine has bought for Tina’s parents, who were nice enough to make him dinner and not question why a boy arrived at their house in the middle of the night and camped out in their daughter’s bedroom for an entire day.
“You’re smiling,” Tina notes as they walk to first period biology together. Blaine nods, clutching his textbook a little tighter and wishing he didn’t flinch every time he saw someone holding a slushie cup turn the corner.
“Life goes on,” he shrugs, ducking into the classroom and settling behind a bench, and he really wishes it were that simple. Tina frowns as she sits beside him, and Blaine can tell she’s not buying it but he won’t let that stop him. He just needs to get better at lying. Cooper would probably give him a thousand useless tips on keeping character, but calling his brother would mean explaining the break up and reliving it again, and Blaine can’t face that right now.
He’s going to keep distracted, keep smiling, keep trying to please all of the people all of the time. He won’t think about the constant, dull ache in his stomach that intensifies every time he sees something that reminds him of Kurt. He won’t think about the horrible mistake he made and how it seems impossible to fix. He won’t think about how Kurt unfriended him and now he can’t even flip through his photos, see how happy he is in New York, and know that breaking up was the best decision. He won’t think about any of it until the final bell rings, his homework is done, he has had the obligatory awkward dinner conversation with his parents, and he can curl up in his bed, engulfing himself in sheets and darkness. Only then will he let it overtake, until he falls asleep with the pillow damp against his skin. He’ll get there. He knows he will. It’s just going to take a little longer than he’s willing to let on.