A/N: Hi, hello. So for those people who have been reading this (I love you so much), I'm sorry about how long this has taken to update. Even though this bit isn't even that long, I've just taken a while to finish it. I'm very distractible. Anyway, here is the third little part in this story. Enjoy, and thank you for the reviews :)
Disclaimer: I don't own anything from Glee or Fantastic Four. Just so you know.
Breathing deeply, Blaine mustered his courage and rapped his knuckles against the mahogany door once, twice, three times. An eerie silence crept under his skin as he stood alone in the dim hallway.
"Come in." A muffled voice sounded from inside the room, and Blaine closed his eyes as he turned the cold door handle. A wave of heat pulled Blaine into its embrace as he stepped into the large bedroom. The once flawless vintage red wallpaper had various sized scorch marks splattered on it – evidently the product of one of Kurt's many emotional outbursts. Blaine smiled at the brief mental image. His eyes drifted over the wooden cabinets and full-length mirrors, eventually resting on the four poster double bed that sat in the middle of the room. But it wasn't the bed that caught Blaine's attention. It was the slouched figure sitting on its opposite edge, facing the large glass doors that led to a small balcony outside. Hands in pockets, Blaine walked slowly around the foot of the bed and sat down next to the boy.
"Hi," he said softly, trying not to disturb the strange quiet.
Kurt looked sideways at Blaine with an unreadable expression. Perhaps he had been expecting someone else, thought Blaine, avoiding the piercing blue gaze. Blaine hadn't expected the overwhelming feeling of relief he had felt at seeing Kurt sitting next to him, alive and well. Then again, he rationalised, Blaine had been a nervous wreck for the past day, waiting to see if Kurt was alright after the encounter with Von Doom. It was perfectly normal for him to be relieved to see Kurt healthy and… happy? Was he happy? Blaine's eyebrows knitted together in confusion as he raised his eyes once more to study Kurt's expression. His face held no indication of happiness, or sadness for that matter. It was blank as Kurt held Blaine's gaze without blinking. A few slow seconds passed, and Blaine was not prepared for what happened next. Kurt sprang up from the bed like a frightened cat, and turned around, eyes ablaze.
"I can't believe you left him!" Kurt cried out, his chest rising and falling with anger. Blaine was completely caught off guard by this sudden outburst, and stood up with his hands raised in symbolic surrender.
"Whoa, Kurt, calm down. What are you talking about?" Blaine tried to put a hand on Kurt's shoulder, but he shrugged it off.
"My father. When Dave dragged me out, he was still in that wreckage." Kurt took a purposeful step forward.
"And," he jabbed Blaine's chest. "You." Jab. "Left." Jab "Him." Jab. "There." Really hard jab. Blaine covered his chest protectively with one hand, preventing Kurt from continuing his assault. What was he going on about?
"Kurt your dad is fine. I don't know what you're talking about. I mean, he was here yesterday… but you didn't want to see anybody, so he left." Blaine's eyebrows pulled together as he watched Kurt take a wobbly step back.
"He's okay? He's, like, he's not..." Kurt stumbled over his words, paling as he spoke. Sensing what was about to happen, Blaine's arms stretched an unnatural distance forward to catch Kurt as he fainted. Bending down, Blaine put an arm beneath Kurt's knees and swept him up, carrying him to his bed. Despite the fact that Kurt was pale and unconscious, his skin was still very, very warm. Blaine tried to ignore how it seeped through his clothes and spread over his chest.
In a few steps, the boys reached the large bed, and with overcautious movements, Blaine gently laid Kurt onto the red sheets. He pulled a large pillow under Kurt's head, but left the blankets at the bottom of the bed – Kurt didn't need any more heat. Blaine sat onto the bed, crossing his legs like a child. He stretched his fingers out and took note of Kurt's pulse. Everything was normal, as far as he could see. Pulling his arm back, Blaine rested his chin in his hands, just waiting.
As he sat in the quiet room, Blaine couldn't help but notice how peaceful Kurt looked when he slept. Well, he was unconscious, but the principles remained the same. The calm of sleep removed all emotion from the younger boy's face. His mouth - usually turned down in a scowl or pouting - was devoid of any angry expression, and was closed as he breathed methodically through his nose. Blaine's eyes travelled over the boy's flawless white skin (his cheeks were beginning to regain some colour), up over his sweet nose, and stopped on his closed eyes. Every few seconds they would flutter, as if disturbed by dark thoughts. But Blaine knew better than to think Kurt was dreaming. Blaine didn't even know what was going on in the other boy's mind. Was there just darkness? Could he hear anything? Blaine knew from the time Santana had been knocked out that you could in fact hear what people were saying, depending on the degree of your consciousness. Blaine was now very careful about what he said around Santana.
Blaine found himself breathing in time with Kurt. The room was beginning to cool down, and Blaine soon realised that it was because of Kurt's state. Being unconscious had stopped his body radiating constant heat waves, as they usually did. In the original tests, Blaine had concluded that the heat waves only started when Kurt was feeling strong emotion. But after a few days, he downplayed it to occurring whenever Kurt was in 'a mood'. Which was all the time.
Blaine found himself wishing that Kurt would be like this more often - peaceful, quiet. It was a nice change from his usual self. But Blaine recoiled from the thought almost immediately. If Kurt was calm all the time, then he wouldn't be himself. And that was the last thing Blaine wanted to happen. Despite the fact that he couldn't stand Kurt's mood swings and (literally) heated outbursts, he wouldn't change a thing about the other boy. His demanding qualities were what Blaine loved the most about him.
Lost in his thoughts, Blaine leaned forward and put a hand on Kurt's forehead. Taking his temperature was useless – the thermometer would simply break. Nevertheless, he held the back of his hand on Kurt's smooth skin. A thin strand of chestnut-coloured hair flopped lazily onto Kurt's forehead, and without thinking, Blaine swept it back up. From his hair, Blaine trailed his fingers down the side of Kurt's face, ghosting over his jaw line and onto his neck. When Blaine's fingertips brushed the top of Kurt's collared shirt, he instantly snapped his hand back, realising how intimate he was being. A faint blush crept onto Blaine's face, and even though he knew nobody else was in the room, he was still embarrassed. Leaning back against one of the bed posts, Blaine closed his eyes, slowing his breathing. Bringing a hand to his own face, he felt how hot it was, and shook his head, laughing softly.
This wasn't the first time something like this had happened. Sometimes he would have to look hurriedly at the floor in order to stop staring at Kurt. Blaine always noticed the way he moved, how words sounded as they tumbled from his lips, what he did when he was nervous… the list went on. So far, no-one had become suspicious or anything. But Blaine couldn't help but notice the knowing looks he got from Santana every now and then. It made him slightly worried… but then again, Santana always jumped to conclusions, making up strange scenarios in her mind. Despite this, Blaine couldn't help but feel like she knew. A small voice brought Blaine back to reality.
"What are you laughing at?" Kurt was propped up onto his elbows, a smirk playing on his lips. Blaine smiled, shaking his head as he sat up straighter.
"Nothing, nothing – don't worry," Blaine said, taking in a deep breath. His smile was quickly replaced by an expression of concern. "How are you feeling?"
"Fine. I'm fine." Kurt said evasively, waving Blaine's concerns away with his hand. "I just feel a bit stupid. About, you know… fainting and all."
"No, I understand. You're stressed, Kurt. Wound tight since you woke up yesterday. I can only imagine what you're going through." Blaine said, looking down at his hands. "I'm sorry we didn't just tell you earlier."
At this, Kurt said nothing. He just surveyed Blaine, watching his face as he spoke. His eyes narrowed and he nodded, seemingly accepting Blaine's apology. With a small huff, Kurt fell back onto his pillows, sinking into the red silk. It was silent for a few moments, before Kurt cleared his throat and spoke again.
"How long was I out for?" he asked, looking over at Blaine, who still sat cross-legged on the corner of the bed. Blaine studied Kurt's alarm clock, his face scrunching up in thought.
"Only 15 minutes. Nothing serious, I mean, you only fainted. It's not like you were knocked over the head with a baseball bat." Blaine grinned, trying to lighten the mood a little. It worked in a way – Kurt's mouth twitched with an impending smile. It never came though, and Blaine shook his head ever so slightly, resting his elbows on his knees once again. The two boys sat in silence for a time, the room slowly heating up once again as Kurt recovered. Kurt was still lying in his sea of pillows, and his hand was in the air, catching alight every few seconds. Blaine noticed this as another one of Kurt's habits. He did it when he was waiting for something, like someone drumming their fingertips on a table. After he mentally hit himself for thinking so much about Kurt, it made Blaine wonder what the other boy was waiting for. It wasn't long until he found out.
"I wasn't out for 15 minutes." Kurt mumbled from inside his nest of linen.
Blaine looked up from where he was picking at a thread on the edge of a blanket.
"What?" he asked, not really paying attention.
"I said – I wasn't unconscious for 15 minutes." Kurt spoke slowly, enunciating each word. Now Blaine was curious. He moved his attention away from the fraying blanket and looked questioningly at Kurt. He couldn't see the other boy's face, but he knew where it was.
"Yes you were. I came in here at exactly two o'clock, and you passed out a few minutes later. You woke up at quarter past two. Okay, so then 12 minutes. You were unconscious for 12 minutes, not 15. What does it matter?" Blaine leaned sideways, trying to get a view of Kurt's face. Suddenly, Kurt sat up, looking at Blaine with a strange expression on his face. Blaine also sat up straight, warily shuffling backwards on the bed.
"Oh, it doesn't matter. I just thought you should know I was awake when you… checked my temperature." Kurt smiled sweetly, shrugging. Without waiting to see Blaine's reaction, Kurt jumped off the bed and walked out the room, not looking back as he closed the door. With a groan, Blaine put his hands on his face and sunk into the mattress, wishing it would just open up and eat him alive. Anything to save him from having to face Kurt ever again.