chapter nine
chapter one
chapter two
chapter three
chapter four
chapter five
chapter six
chapter seven
chapter eight
Things get better.
Of course they do.
It just needs the Mistress Time to break you.
She’ll be kind, soon enough.
-
Blaine finds solace in the music, the shroud of notes to keep him safe. Within the next few weeks, the tears subside as he clutches a bow in his hands, crafts a note in the air, captures a breath between words of long-missed melodies.
It’s where he can think again. Where he can feel again.
Oh, he just wants to feel again.
-
A purple envelope falls through a door a few days later. Kurt doesn’t recognise the writing.
But he opens it anyway.
It’s a picture of a puppy in a basket, a thermometer in its mouth and a blanket wrapped over him. Kurt thinks it’s rather cute.
A caption along the bottom reads:
Sorry that you’re sick
Hope you get well quick!...
(Kurt notices the dots have been drawn on with a dark marker pen, and quickly flips the card over to find the words hidden amongst the map of signatures)
...We can’t rhyme very well
But at least you get to play “nurses” with Kurt, you lucky asshole!
(Yes, literally!)
Get well soon!
It’s accompanied with a little stick-figure drawing of Blaine lying in a bed with his tongue out, and Kurt leaning over him, his ass exaggerated, and Kurt can’t help but laugh for a moment, because the last time he’d been ill, Blaine had insisted on just one more day and Kurt had gone along with it because he’d finished all his articles and the rewards he’d gotten at the end were definitely worth it.
But now -
It’s different now.
It's not as if Blaine's going to remember what they're doing.
Gone are the days when they'd just spend it in bed and take their time. When they’d share the closeness and the warmth and feel each other’s heartbeats like tattoos on each other’s ears. And Kurt will probably be playing nurse for the rest of his life now...
Suddenly, this game doesn’t seem anywhere near as fun anymore.
-
The more he considers the card, the more Kurt misses the intimacy.
He longs for the touch, for a press of lips that’s more than a swift whisper, for meadows, for prairies of skin and the oceans of eyes and the half-moon spine and waxing-crescent wrist and a new galaxy of a forgotten bruise and a shifting orbit as they move together.
The change in gravity, the stars forming and burning each time with the hot sparks inside of them, the bright shock of pleasure they didn’t know they could make someone else feel.
It’s the perfect limits of their bodies that he wants to find again.
-
It’s the limits of his mind now instead.
-
He loves Blaine more than anything. That’s all he has to tell himself.
-
It’s going to keep them going.
In the first steps of adulthood, Kurt had thought love was about passion and intimacy and surprise red roses on the doorstep, grand gestures and statements of hyperbole that could never come true but they’d at least try to make it so.
But now he knows what love it. Love is the look on your husband’s face when he sees you for what he thinks is the first time in years, how he nearly knocks you off your feet with the force of his jump into your arms to kiss you. The touch of the fingertips. The feeling that no matter how hard it gets, Kurt will always be there for Blaine, because Blaine is his everything, and Kurt is Blaine’s everything and they’re each other’s everythings and that’s all that matters.
-
“Merry Christmas, Darling.”
Kurt kisses Blaine’s pulse as he wakes up first, and links a hand with his.
“Kurt.” Blaine beams sunshine.
“It’s Christmas, Blaine.”
“Happy Christmas, Kurt. I love you.”
-
They’ll share a sandwich lunch, but pull a cracker or two to add a little more fun into it all. They tell each other bad jokes, and laugh, and Kurt puts a paper hat on Blaine’s head that he’ll wonder a minute later how it got there.
Afterwards, they go to the music room, bash out songs on the piano, a few old favourites. Blaine can get through The First Noel, Away In A Manger, God Rest Ye Merry, Gentleman and One In Royal David’s City with ease.
Then they spend the day holding each other on the couch, humming carols beneath their breath, their fingers laced. And in that moment, just still and quiet, they know that they'll always return to each other, because right there, in each others’ arms, just lying next to each other, that's become home to them.
-
There are two presents under the tree this year.
Under the soft glow of the candles, Kurt hands Blaine a parcel that he unwraps to reveal a smart, leather-bound diary. Blaine kisses Kurt and thanks him while he can still remember the sentiment.
-
Kurt waits to open his present until Blaine’s gone to bed. With one candle left burning against the night, he tears open a small box, peels away bubble wrap and smiles before placing the framed photograph of him and Blaine on the mantelpiece.
Merry Christmas, Kurt.
He stares at it for a few moments before blowing out the candle.
-
The next morning, Kurt decides that Blaine needs to start using his diary as soon as possible. And by as soon as possible, he means today.
-
“Blaine? Can you write down something? How you feel?”
They’re sitting at the desk in their bedroom that they used to share, as Blaine struggles to get the pen held correctly between his fingers.
“I don’t know.”
“Try it. For me?”
“Try what?”
“Writing something.”
“How long have I been ill, Kurt?”
“For months.”
“Is that F-O-R or F-O-U-R months?”
“The first one.”
“The first what?”
“Write down how you feel, Blaine. Have a go.”
The first stroke of the ink is a little tentative, and Kurt doubts his choice to use Blaine’s old fountain pen in case he breaks it, but slowly, Blaine forces out a line, fresh on the pages of his new diary.
Kurt walks around, places a hand on Blaine’s shoulder, thumbing the fabric subconsciously and reads the first thought in Blaine’s head:
I DO LIVE!
-
And suddenly Kurt’s laughing, laughing because Blaine is still here, Blaine is his and Blaine doesn’t know why Kurt’s laughing but he’s happy, his Kurt is happy and so he laughs too, and they’re in each others’ arms where all they know is home and maybe just maybe everything might be okay.
-
Not good.
Not great.
But okay.
And okay is the best either of them can hope for right now.
-
Kurt shows Doctor Smith the pages of Blaine’s journal on her next visit.
Each page is a mess, a puzzle of lines and forgotten words and edits for each new existence Blaine knows.
I AM WELL AND TRULY AWAKE
I AM MOST DEFINITELY AND COMPLETELY AWAKE
I AM MOST SUPERLATIVELY AND ENTIRELY AWAKE
And then he spots an old phrase at the bottom of January 10th. One that still haunts him - and Blaine too.
I am completely incapable of thinking.
-
Doctor Smith decides to set Blaine another task on the same day.
She hands him a piece of paper, which he leans on the coffee table.
“Blaine, I want you to just fill in the first thing that comes into your head when you read each statement. Take your time.”
He bends over in concentration, scratching across the sheet as Kurt and Doctor Smith sit beside him.
He finishes the list in two minutes, hands it over.
Kurt leans in to read Blaine’s answers.
-
Something courageous
My husband
Something tragic
The death of a loved one
Something that hurts your ears
A high unturned note
Something unpleasant
Me
Something bitter
Me
Something loving
My husband
Something that has to be renewed
Promise
Something stiff
Concrete mind
Something that changes shape
Romance
Something that should be insured
My life
Something that needs to be planned
A town development
Something that needs to be repeated
Good music
Something comical
My seriousness
Something that has springs
Every year
Something that might expire
My heart
Something that tastes sweet
Honey
Something extinct
My ability
Something dangerous
My humor
Something fake
My humor
Something you enjoy doing
Kissing
Something habit-forming
Kissing
Something wider than it is high
My stupidity
-
No one knows what to say.
“What are you two reading?” Blaine asks.
-
“Kurt, you remember Professor Buckham?”
“Of course I do. What about her?”
“She’s having some people over from England for a conference. All psychologists, professors, some people she used to study with. And she was wondering if you would mind having them meet Blaine? She’s taken a great interest in his condition - I’ve been passing some of the information on, just as you said I could - and she was hoping that you wouldn’t mind - ”
“When and where?”
“It’s in a few weeks times. I don’t know the exact date. But it could be anywhere you felt comfortable. We could go to the clinic again, or they could even come here if you like. Just to meet Blaine.”
“I think that could be - arranged. I can ask Blaine now and get an answer - ”
“Do you think he’d consent? Even if he did, he wouldn’t remember it.”
“I know that, but for now, at least?”
-
“Blaine, I’ve just been talking to Doctor Smith - ”
“Who?”
“A doctor. What she’d like to know is if you’d mind having some of her friends come to visit you.”
“What friends? I don’t even know this person.”
“She’s your doctor, Blaine.”
“No she’s not. I’ve never seen a doctor in my life.”
“Blaine - please, I’d just like some of my friends to visit you. They know all about you.”
“Why do they? I’m not famous.”
“No, but I’ve told them about you. Everything I know about you. But I’d like them to see you for themselves.”
“Who?”
“My friends, Blaine. Blaine - what - where are you going? No, Blaine, calm down, it’s okay.”
“Blaine, stop it. Come here. Sit down.”
“No one is coming to see me. No one would want to see me!”
“Blaine, they just want to talk to you. I’ve been telling them all about you, what I’ve noticed about you - ”
“I said no. No one is coming to see me. I am not an experiment!”
And then Blaine’s kicking and yelling and throwing punches and Kurt’s holding him back and struggling against the ropes of safety and there’s crying and a shatter of glass and Doctor Smith is on the floor and there’s blood oh God there’s blood and Blaine’s in his arms and he’s crying over something he doesn’t even know any more.
interlude: from the outside looking in