fic: Forever and Ever (Klaine, PG, 1/1)
Title: Forever and Ever
Rating: PG
Pairing: Kurt/Blaine
Summary: Blaine reflects on courage, on running, and on dancing. Spoilers for 2x20.
I, I will be king,
and you, you will be queen.
Though nothing will drive them away,
we can beat them,
just for one day.
After the broken arm healed and the bruises faded, after the transfer papers were signed and the Warblers audition went off without a hitch, Blaine would still look out his dorm room window and focus on some distant point against the skyline, feeling the whispers ugly and accusing in the pit of his stomach:
“You ran.”
Because this was what they did to you: they made you blame yourself. Even after every ugly thing faded into background noise and was packed up into a box (ready to be opened up again at the first fresh taunt, or at the sight of the boy on the staircase and how beautiful he was when he cried), they made you believe you weren’t strong enough or wise enough or good enough, that you should have fought harder, pushed back, returned blow for blow instead of falling to the pavement and crying ugly and messy as they took everything from you.
Blaine tried to believe that if he had said the right words, shown the light just so, that the ugliness would fade away. That if he spoke out loud enough, to people as honest and brave as he tried to be, the regret would be replaced with something as sure and right as he always tried to feel inside himself. That earned him humiliation at a retail outlet, it earned him a drunken crisis and more fights than he ever wanted to have with his best friend. But it also got him Kurt, in the end, Kurt with the dazzling smile and the fashion model’s walk, whose eyes showed every feeling in his open, beautiful heart, and for the first time in a long time Blaine was able to believe that everything - every bruise, every loss - just might have been worth it.
Until that tight but lovely voice challenged “What about prom, Blaine?” and he couldn’t hedge anymore, not while the memories kept coming back.
Blaine tried to believe that if he took the right steps, he performed the right moves, it would be as okay as Kurt suddenly believed it would be. That if Kurt the Valentine’s Day cynic, the boy he’d first met so wounded and so lost, could think the best of this place he once left behind - maybe it would be okay. Maybe, for once, he really was the one too hardened and worldly, instead of the one just faking it under a need to believe in good things, good people.
But then the name echoes across the auditorium like a curse, like something worse than a bloody nose - because at least blood was honest, it didn’t spit in your face after it built you up and made you feel safe again. And Blaine could think, now, that he was right. He could think of the kilt and the boy who cried over his latte and the broken arm. He could think of his father, glaring as he stepped out the door in his suit, muttering that at least he was being discreet. He could think of a hundred things that would justify him walking out the door and saying he never should have come at all.
But all Blaine can do is run.
He runs after Kurt, calling his name, heart in his throat. He runs towards the one thing he never wants to see bruised or broken or disappearing. He says whatever platitude, waits through every impossible silence, agrees to do whatever the weeping boy he is maybe-absolutely-completely in love with asks, because running away doesn’t matter, and standing up doesn’t matter, and every ugly thing that has ever hurt them both isn’t as important as this person, right here, right now.
Blaine runs after Kurt, wherever he goes, chasing that stubborn, wounded promise: that nobody can truly break what they have. And against a thousand pairs of eyes he allows himself an idealistic thought again, a truth he has never spoken out loud but that he’ll tell Kurt time and again after tonight:
‘It’s because of you I’m brave enough to dance.’
Though nothing will keep us together,
we could steal time
just for one day.
We can be heroes,
forever and ever -
what d’you say?
Rating: PG
Pairing: Kurt/Blaine
Summary: Blaine reflects on courage, on running, and on dancing. Spoilers for 2x20.
I, I will be king,
and you, you will be queen.
Though nothing will drive them away,
we can beat them,
just for one day.
After the broken arm healed and the bruises faded, after the transfer papers were signed and the Warblers audition went off without a hitch, Blaine would still look out his dorm room window and focus on some distant point against the skyline, feeling the whispers ugly and accusing in the pit of his stomach:
“You ran.”
Because this was what they did to you: they made you blame yourself. Even after every ugly thing faded into background noise and was packed up into a box (ready to be opened up again at the first fresh taunt, or at the sight of the boy on the staircase and how beautiful he was when he cried), they made you believe you weren’t strong enough or wise enough or good enough, that you should have fought harder, pushed back, returned blow for blow instead of falling to the pavement and crying ugly and messy as they took everything from you.
Blaine tried to believe that if he had said the right words, shown the light just so, that the ugliness would fade away. That if he spoke out loud enough, to people as honest and brave as he tried to be, the regret would be replaced with something as sure and right as he always tried to feel inside himself. That earned him humiliation at a retail outlet, it earned him a drunken crisis and more fights than he ever wanted to have with his best friend. But it also got him Kurt, in the end, Kurt with the dazzling smile and the fashion model’s walk, whose eyes showed every feeling in his open, beautiful heart, and for the first time in a long time Blaine was able to believe that everything - every bruise, every loss - just might have been worth it.
Until that tight but lovely voice challenged “What about prom, Blaine?” and he couldn’t hedge anymore, not while the memories kept coming back.
Blaine tried to believe that if he took the right steps, he performed the right moves, it would be as okay as Kurt suddenly believed it would be. That if Kurt the Valentine’s Day cynic, the boy he’d first met so wounded and so lost, could think the best of this place he once left behind - maybe it would be okay. Maybe, for once, he really was the one too hardened and worldly, instead of the one just faking it under a need to believe in good things, good people.
But then the name echoes across the auditorium like a curse, like something worse than a bloody nose - because at least blood was honest, it didn’t spit in your face after it built you up and made you feel safe again. And Blaine could think, now, that he was right. He could think of the kilt and the boy who cried over his latte and the broken arm. He could think of his father, glaring as he stepped out the door in his suit, muttering that at least he was being discreet. He could think of a hundred things that would justify him walking out the door and saying he never should have come at all.
But all Blaine can do is run.
He runs after Kurt, calling his name, heart in his throat. He runs towards the one thing he never wants to see bruised or broken or disappearing. He says whatever platitude, waits through every impossible silence, agrees to do whatever the weeping boy he is maybe-absolutely-completely in love with asks, because running away doesn’t matter, and standing up doesn’t matter, and every ugly thing that has ever hurt them both isn’t as important as this person, right here, right now.
Blaine runs after Kurt, wherever he goes, chasing that stubborn, wounded promise: that nobody can truly break what they have. And against a thousand pairs of eyes he allows himself an idealistic thought again, a truth he has never spoken out loud but that he’ll tell Kurt time and again after tonight:
‘It’s because of you I’m brave enough to dance.’
Though nothing will keep us together,
we could steal time
just for one day.
We can be heroes,
forever and ever -
what d’you say?