Title: words for your broken heart
Inspiration: another wonderful image by cacell that you can find at: community dot livejournal dot kurt_blaine slash 1062223 dot html
Disclaimer: I don't own any of the characters and such.
Warning: Implied violence/homophobia
Notes: mrphhhh. Okay, I'm not sure what my head-canon for Mr. Anderson is yet, but I don't pin him as abusive or even really mean. Just sort of…distant and not supportive of Blaine. Regardless, cacell drew this and how could I not write about it? That being said, I veered from the drawing just a little…
Also, title comes from "Show Me the Meaning of Being Lonely" by *cough*Backstreet Boys*cough* (what can I say? I still love me some BSB.) Also also, I shifted perspective once or twice. *face palm* I'd edit it because it's just bad form and I don't know if it gets confusing but I can't muddle through how to work it so… yeah. Apologies endless for that!
"Dad!" Kurt calls on his way for the door, "I'm leaving." Burt lifts a hand in recognition as his son passes behind him on the couch. The house is quiet on Saturday morning. It's far too early for Finn to be conscious but he can just hear the shuffle and dull clang of Carole preparing for breakfast. Which is a shame, that he's going to miss out on that.
Kurt has grown fond of the time they all spent together as a family. Sure, he sometimes wants to beat Finn with blunt objects and maybe some of Carole's fashion reverts back to denim and denim matched with denim. But his Dad smiles more often and Finn does treat him like a true brother and Carole sometimes absently brushes her fingers through his hair when he passes by her (he pretends to make a big fuss about it messing his hair up because it amuses her but he doesn't really mind all that much).
However, there is a sale that he and Mercedes are planning to ravage through before having a Breadstix lunch, seeing the new Matt Damon movie (which has the potential to be either mindblowingly awesome or mindnumbingly stupid but whichever way, hello, Matt Damon) and then hitting her house for a session of hanging out that has been long-delayed. Kurt taps out a text to Mercedes that he's on his way to pick her up as he edges out the front door. Slipping the phone into his pocket when he finishes, he glances up. And stops immediately. He lowers himself to kneel before asking curiously, "…Blaine?" Scenarios pass through his mind and he keeps fixing on the one that says this is a dream. Because there's no way a haggard and ruffled Blaine Anderson would be slumped on his front porch in the waking world.
It seems Blaine is just joining said world, as he blinks deliberately and looks up at hearing his name, a hood sleep covering him. It drops suddenly and he tips his face away from Kurt. "Kurt! Sorry. I–"
"Did you sleep on my porch?" Kurt asks, a thread of disbelief working through the question. He meets Blaine's evasive eyes then and everything screams to a halt, shock and fear penetrating his system and paralyzing all the questions that were following the first in his throat. It must be written clear on his face because Blaine winces and turns his face away again – hiding the black eye.
"I… I wanted to ask if I could crash here last night but I…didn't want you to see me like this." His voice is drenched with some foreign shame and Kurt just wanted to cup his face and smooth his hair back.
As it was, Kurt does reach out a hand to his face, turning it up. Blaine doesn't fight him but doesn't meet his eyes. It isn't so bad, as far as black eyes go, but if he got it how Kurt thinks he did… Well, that makes it far worse. "Blaine…" he murmurs, brow knitting together with stitches of concern. "Was… Your father?"
Something like anger but closer to hurt flashes over Blaine's face as he swallows and then nods. "Yeah." He clears his throat and gives his shoulders a shake. "Yes. It was…" His voice is trembles and he experiments with a few half-words, trying to strengthen it. The pretense melts away eventually though, leaving Blaine with heavy shoulders and a broken expression. "He just…snapped."
Kurt wants to say something, anything, because Blaine always has words for him, but all he can think of is "I love you, I love you, I love you, even if he doesn't," and he's not sure how helpful that will be at the moment. So instead, he rises and pulls Blaine with him, toward the house, saying, "C'mon, you're freezing."
Opening the door, he finds his father lingering in the entrance and lifts an eyebrow in question. "Heard you talkin'," Burt gives as an answer. Tilting his head toward Blaine, he asks, "Everything all right, kid?"
Blaine shuffles a little before clearing his throat. "Yes, sir. Sorry for…this." It's an admirable try at sounding normal but even Burt who doesn't know Blaine all that well yet can see through it. Also, he can see the bruise on his face, the ones purpling beneath the fold of his undone collar and he knows. He knew something was wrong the instant the boy walked in and he didn't automatically offer his hand and a smile as he has all the other times he's been in the house.
Burt's face is stone but his hands soft as they rest on Blaine's shoulders. "Don't apologize. You know you're welcome here."
Blaine keeps his face down but looks up at Burt through his lashes and the man can see the rims of his eyes reddening. "Thank you, sir," he says quietly.
Kurt takes his hand then, lacing the fingers so their palms press. "Here, let's go up to my room, okay?" Blaine nods, following Kurt without question.
Burt trails them to the staircase and catches Kurt at the bottom, letting Blaine up the stairs first. Son looks to father and Burt can't speak for a second. Because he honestly can't imagine laying a hand to Kurt without feeling physically ill. Swallowing around that discomfort, he asks softly, "His dad, huh?" Kurt nods, looking like he did when he was younger and something crushed his world. He hasn't seen this sort of broken-hearted, soft and quiet sadness etched over his son's face in a long time. Burt sighs and scratches at the back of his neck, nodding. "Yeah, all right. Go and… Yeah. If you need me, for anything you know, I'll be right down here."
Kurt nods, that quiet sadness fluttering at the seams. "Okay. Thank you, Dad." And there's so much emotion in that thank-you that Burt can tell he doesn't only mean it for what he just said. And he wants to press Kurt up close to him and, what the hell, Blaine too and show the both of them that there's nothing wrong with either of them and anyone who says elsewise doesn't deserve to be the father of such fine boys. He sort of feels like he might start crying if he says all that though, so instead he just pulls his son into a fierce hug, fingers touching through the back of his hair. Kurt burrows into his father's neck readily, stealing from his strength before pulling away and heading up the stairs.
He finds Blaine fidgeting at the top of his stairs, off to the side, and Kurt takes his hand again, pulling him the short distance into his room. Blaine starts to apologize again as soon as the door is closed, one hand wreaking havoc on the cuff of his other sleeve as he twists nervously. Kurt hauls his friend in close, arms crossing over his back. "Shuddup," he breathes out, cheek resting on Blaine's head. "It's fine. I'm sorry. That this all happened."
The cold set of Blaine's shoulders sinks away and he sways even further into Kurt's space, until Kurt can feel it when he swallows thickly. "No, I… This is probably good." A watery chuckle bubbles from him and Kurt tightens the embrace. "It was all latent and under the surface and now it's all out there and—"
And now he can't deny it. And now there's no way Blaine can pretend that everything is all right between him and his father. Kurt cards a hand through his friend's curls and the other boy fits his face deep into Kurt's neck, their position a replica of Kurt and his father moments ago. Kurt lets the stillness settle around them before gently backing out, keeping one hand curved around the back of Blaine's head. "Here, lemme see," he requests softly.
Blaine jerks away though, twisting. "S'fine," he mumbles as he turns his back to Kurt, shuffling to the bed.
Kurt catches him wiping his eyes before moving to him, guiding him to sit on the bed with him. Blaine immediately moves close, seeking comfort through touch. "Do you… What happened, exactly?"
Blaine scrubs a hand through his hair and shrugs. "I… I don't even know. We were just talking and then all of a sudden we were arguing and then fighting and before I know it I'm shouting at him and he's walking away and I grabbed at him because… I just…" Blaine's voice breaks and his handsome face bunches up at it. "I just wanted him to listen for once. But then he reeled off and…" Then it's like Blaine's throat closes up and he can't admit it. He can't actually say the words, that his father hit him. Kurt's fingers play at his wrist while Blaine pauses, gives a shuddery inhale.
"He apologized immediately. I mean, I don't think he really meant to do it, because he was falling over himself, apologizing afterward but… I didn't want to hear it then. So I left."
"And came here."
Blaine shook his head. "Not right away. I drove around for awhile." He laughed then but it was small and wounded. "Definitely didn't want you to see me then, I was a mess."
And Kurt looks at his friend, sees the wrinkles in his blazer and shirt, the twisted angle of his loosened tie, the wayward press of his still-gelled hair and the bruises, the bruises. The black around his eyes, the purple marks half-hidden by the undone first buttons of his shirt… He sees the way Blaine keeps trying to smile despite it always getting swallowed by some shudder deep inside him. "Oh, baby," he hums, more to himself then to Blaine, "you are such a mess."
Another gust of laughter and then Blaine is shaking and folding into himself. Kurt turns their hands to match but Blaine pulls it free, covers his eyes. He gasps out something that might be a prayer, might be a blasphemy, but either way it's ragged and unkempt and has tears in it. Kurt settles for rubbing gently at his back. Blaine turns into him without his prompting, dropping against his support like a marionette with his strings cut. A cord breaks inside then, unwinding the whole picture and Blaine sobs unrestrained and Kurt holds him.
And later, they might talk to Burt. Later Burt might pull Blaine against him like he's his own son and Blaine might cry more (just a little, just from the thought that Kurt was lucky enough to have this man as his father). Mercedes will call and bitch out on Kurt and he'll apologize and explain and then she'll come over and cuddle Blaine for a minute before leaving it all behind. And they'll all leave it all behind for awhile, taking time to laugh and belt out some Broadway. Maybe they'll tease Blaine for his obsession with Judy Garland (because, really, Kurt loves Gaga and all but you didn't get much more stereotypical than Judy). Mercedes might leave and Carole could invite Blaine to stay for family dinner and it won't be awkward at all.
Blaine's phone will vibrate over and over in the cupholder of his car on the corner, voicemail filling up with worried messages from his mother, tearful apologies from his father. His father will cry and tell him that he does love him he just…he can't… please come home, champ, please, they can talk and he's just so sorry. Maybe Kurt and Blaine will lay side by side, only hands touching tentatively, and quietly sing "Somewhere Over the Rainbow" together. And Kurt might make it slide into "What a Wonderful World" just to see Blaine smile. They might kiss before the night is over. They might not.
But for now, for this moment, Kurt will just hold his friend, stroke fingers through his hair, and promise that he's okay, he's fine, he's perfect, no matter what anyone says.
AN: Thanks for reading. Hope you liked! Please let me know!