A/N: To all my old readers: This is another angsty thing from me. I don't know why I'm writing these kinds of things, I really need to go back to the fluffy stuff.
But to all you new readers: Hello, I'm glad you stopped by to read this. :)
This is my first 5+1 fanfic, so if it's a little rough around the edges, I apologise.
Another thing, for the purposes of this one-shot, I have to pretend that Kurt stays overnight at Dalton Academy. Sorry about that. :)
WARNING: THIS ONE-SHOT CONTAINS SCENES OF CUTTING, AND SUICIDAL THOUGHTS. IF YOU DO NOT LIKE THAT KIND OF THING THEN I ADVISE YOU NOT READ THIS.
I do not own Glee.
Ghost, or Five Times Blaine Didn't Notice, One Time He Did
The First Time - After Karofsky's Kiss
Kurt Hummel sat in the bathroom alone, the tiles cold to his body. He could still feel Karofsky's lips on his own, moving sloppily as his gigantic hands clutching his face. That wasn't what his first kiss was supposed to feel like. It was meant to be like fireworks, as described in the cheesy romantic movies that he liked to watch so often. His didn't, and he felt dirty. No matter how many times he had washed his face he still felt disgusted. Disgusted and violated.
But nothing in his life ever went right. What was the point of living if life was always going to be a disappointment? Kurt couldn't think of any reasons.
The pale-skinned boy crossed the room in a matter of steps and there he was, in front of a cup containing several razor blade that his Dad uses to shave. Kurt could do it now. He could end the bullying and the trauma that he was put through everyday. All it took was one deep cut into his soft flesh.
He picked up the sharpest one and experimented, lightly cutting across the tip of his thumb, watching the blade run easily through the skin, releasing a droplet of blood. Just that one cut was enough for Kurt to be mesmerised by the sensation that cutting gave him. It gave him power. That small blade was enough to end his life, yet he didn't fear it, he was envious of it. Kurt drew the blade across his uncovered upper arm, watching the blood trickle down his pale skin, a striking comparison. As the droplet fell, Kurt knew he was hooked.
He was just about to cut again, the hand that held the razor slowly moving towards his arm, when his cell phone went off. The blade dropped to the floor with a clatter, and he picked up his phone, feeling annoyed that someone had bothered him when he had finally found a way to release his anger at the world. He answered the call with a sharp, "Hello, Blaine."
"Hey, Kurt," sounded the voice through the speaker, "how was school?"
"It was fine." Kurt's voice was emotionless, but Blaine didn't notice. He never did.
The Second Time - His First Night At Dalton
Kurt felt cold, and he felt alone. Overall, the boy was numb to the core. How could he so heartlessly have left his only friends behind? Karofsky was threatening him with the one thing he wanted; to die. So why had he run away? Kurt's eyes prickled with tears. He just wanted someone to know what he was going through, but here, at Dalton, he knew hardly anybody. His body shook with tremors as his tears fell. He reached for his bag and took it with him to the en suite bathroom.
As he locked the door behind him, he slid down against it, his bag clutched in his hands, his knuckles turning even whiter with the force of his grip. He took a few seconds to recollect his thoughts and calm the tears, before he tipped out the contents of his bag, searching for the glare of a metallic object in the flickering light. When he found it, he grabbed it, his heart beating wildly in his chest. Kurt felt sickened that he was excited for this part of the day; the time when he could sit down by himself and watch his own blood seep onto the floor. He stared at the puddle of precious liquid, transfixed for several moments until he heard a far-off knock and someone calling his name through the door.
Nobody could see him like this, he immediately decided. Even though he felt at his most powerful during this ritual, he was sure he looked vulnerable to outsiders. Nobody would be able to understand the sensation, and he didn't want to have to explain it to Blaine, to his family and friends, or to the psychiatric ward if anybody ever found out. That's why nobody had to know, it had to remain his little secret.
"Kurt, are you in there?" Blaine shouted.
He couldn't hide forever. Kurt quickly mopped up the blood with some tissue and called a reply to stall him some time. After it was all gone, he went to let Blaine in.
Kurt opened the door, and saw Blaine leant against the wall with a stack of books held under one arm. "Hi," Blaine said with a grin, stepping towards the door and throwing an arm around Kurt's shoulder, taking him to the bed so they could sit on it. He didn't notice the low hiss of pain that Kurt had released when he had touched his arm. Blaine dropped his books on Kurt's bed, and jumped onto it. "I'm glad you're in," he said as he got comfortable, "I need help with the French assignment."
The Third Time - After Blaine Sings For Jeremiah
Kurt had literally opened up his heart and admitted that he had feelings for Blaine, but the older boy still hadn't taken any immediate interest. He felt rejected, and now even more lonely than ever. Nobody cared about him that way, and nobody ever would.
He had seen the lust in Blaine's eyes as he followed Jeremiah pitifully throughout the store, and it had caused his chest to constrict in pain. Surely someone must be able to love him? Kurt looked into the mirror in front of him and stared at his reflection, noticing the dark bags that were starting to appear under his eyes due to the lack of sleep he had lately. He then saw the two deep cuts on his arm that had already started to scab over, and he traced them with his long finger. They were beautiful, unlike him.
He reached for the blade again, cutting swiftly across his upper arm. Repeatedly the sharp metal sliced through his skin, until he pitter patter of blood and his slow intakes of breath were the only sounds he could hear.
The scars made Kurt feel that anything that anyone said was nothing compared to what he could do to himself. He was completely invicible.
His arm was covered in cuts, and he decided to turn instead to his upper leg. There was no way that anyone would be able to see the incisions there. The blade was stained with his blood, but Kurt didn't care. He used it to slash through his left thigh, revelling in the feeling of adrenaline that pumped through his veins as he did so. In Kurt's opinion nothing else could compare to this feeling; not even love.
The blood spurted out of the cut on his leg, and it splattered on the floor, rebounding against the tiles, creating a pattern much like an innocent childs first attempt at a finger painting. An alarm went off from the clock in Kurt's room, and he jumped up, startled. He was going to be late for his last class of the day. He mopped up the blood, and quickly grabbed some tissue to wrap around the long cut on his thigh. Kurt put on some clean trousers, and picked up his bag, before running off towards his lesson.
Halfway during the French lesson, Blaine passed him a note. 'What's with the blood stain on your trousers?'
Kurt gasped, before quickly putting on a confused look. He looked down at his left leg where he knew the stain would be, and pretended to look horrified. 'Nothing,' he scribbled down onto the paper, and he shoved it back in Blaine's direction.
'Kurt, it obviously isn't nothing. You should go check it out.'
'Fine, I will.' Kurt put up his hand, excusing himself, and then he walked out of the classroom, rushing to his dormitory room to clean himself up.
After the lesson, Blaine didn't ask anything about the blood, or how it got there.
The Fourth Time - His Last Night At Dalton
Kurt never thought that Blaine would become his boyfriend. He didn't know what Blaine saw in him; he was troubled deep inside, and he wasn't the most handsome guy. Yet, Blaine had still chosen him, and Kurt was grateful.
But that still didn't stop him from harming himself. He still needed the thrill of the feeling of blood dripping slowly down his arm, and the power that it gave him.
Kurt sat on the bathroom floor once more, the blade laid on the floor beside him, and he constantly gazed at it, wondering whether he should do it. He was happy enough to be leaving Dalton; it meant that he got to wear his own clothes, and be with his old glee club again. But it also meant that he would be leaving behind the person who had slowly but surely become his rock during his stay here. Blaine. They had only been together for a short while, but they were already being split apart.
Kurt felt a twinge of guiltnesses make it's way down his spine. How would him leaving affect Blaine? Kurt hadn't really thought about it that much, but now that he had, it was eating him alive.
He picked up the blade, swiftly cutting across his arm where the cuts from the previous times had started to heal. He had learned his lesson not to cut across his thighs from the other time; it was too obvious if it started to bleed, so he returned to his arms again.
The blood ran down his arm once more, creating a trail that criss-crossed over and over again. The pattern was unlike anything that Kurt had ever seen, and it was completely unique. Just like the exhilarating feeling that he still got when he did this.
The buzz of his mobile on the tiled floor echoed and Kurt couldn't ignore it. He already knew who it was from. His boyfriend. They had decided to go on one last date to the Lima Bean, their usual haunt. The text contained the words: 'If you don't come downstairs in five minutes, I will personally come upstairs and drag you down. Just kidding. But not really. Love, B. x'.
Kurt smiled, but the guilt he felt inside still wouldn't go away, and with that thought he mopped up the blood and quickly threw on his prepared outfit, fixed his hair and was out the door in four minutes.
He met Blaine on the stairs, and smiled. "You said five minutes," Kurt reminded him in a teasing tone. "It's only been four."
"I know, but I couldn't resist seeing you again," Blaine admitted, leaning in to give Kurt a chaste kiss on the lips. He held out his hand to the countertenor. "Now let's get going."
Blaine didn't notice that throughout their date Kurt seemed distant, and he didn't see the way Kurt held his arm to contain the pain of the tingling feeling as the cut slowly started to heal itself.
The Fifth Time - After Kurt Was Crowned 'Prom Queen'
Kurt couldn't stop the never-ending tears that flowed from his eyes. Sure, he had put on a brave face and excepted the title with a witty remark, but that didn't mean it didn't hurt any less. He had been humiliated in front of the whole school, and even though it seemed like he didn't care what people said about or did to him, it still cut him to the core.
The countertenor had thought prom was supposed to be a fun time. A time to create memories that he could look back on as he got older with a sincere smile, knowing how much he had enjoyed that night. But as he should have expected, it went completely wrong, and the night was ruined.
The boy didn't understand what was wrong with the bullies. How could anyone think it's okay to hurt another person with abusive words and physical violence? He smiled bitterly. He had thought that McKinley High had got better since he had left; that it would be okay for him to return. That he was safe. But he was obviously wrong; nothing had changed.
Kurt cut his lower arm, slowly reaching his wrist were he knew he could cut if he wanted to end it all. But he didn't know what he wanted. He had Blaine, and a loving and caring family. Surely that was worth more than some mean words that someone had said in a venomous tone?
He cut again. No one understood. They thought that after his speech he was going to be okay, but he wasn't, he was far from it. Kurt had been through things that they would never be able to understand. Not even slightly.
The blood seeped from his deep wounds, splashing into the water that was in the sink and swirling in it, staining the clear liquid and making it red.
"Kurt, dinner's ready," Blaine said through the door. Burt and Carole had invited him to dinner after prom, and Blaine had accepted straight away, wanting to spend more time with Kurt before they were separated for another brief amount of time.
"I'll be out in a minute," he replied, pulling the plug and watching the mixture of blood and water flow down the drain. "I need to go change out of this shirt anyway."
Kurt waited until he had heard Blaine move away, before he came out of the bathroom and rushed to his room, somehow evading any attention. He changed, and made his way to the dinner table. He sat down next to Blaine, and then everyone began eating.
"Could you pass me the gravy, Kurt?" Blaine asked, smiling at his boyfriend.
Kurt reached for the gravy boat and gave a gasp of pain as a horrid sensation shot up his arm because of the long cut that Kurt had inflicted upon himself.
"What's wrong?" Blaine said in a worried tone.
"Nothing, I'm fine."
"Are you sure?" his boyfriend persisted.
"Yes, I'm sure."
And Blaine had left it at that, leaning over and grabbing the gravy instead of making Kurt do it, fearing that it would hurt him again.
The Only Time - After New Directions Lost Nationals
Kurt had pretended to be happy when Mr Schue had brought in their small trophy, and he had celebrated with the rest of his glee club, but that was all an act. Kurt was disappointed. He had wanted to win, just like the rest of the group had, but it had affected him much more than the others.
This was the second time Kurt had lost. Once when he was part of the Warblers, and now with New Directions. He blamed himself. If he had put more effort into writing songs and practising then they might have won. But he hadn't, and now it was all over.
He turned the razor blade in his hands. He had come to rely on this tiny piece of metal. He smiled gravely as he gingerly cut across the tip of his finger, just as he had done all those months ago.
Maybe the world would be a better place without him, Kurt pondered. His dad wouldn't really miss him now that he had Finn to do manly things with, and Carole would be able to console him through the first few months, then they'd be able to play happy families with their son.
Blaine would be fine without him. It would be just like it was before Kurt had come to Dalton, before Blaine had met him. He would be able to move on eventually, meeting new people to fall in love and spend the rest of his life with.
Kurt cut across the skin close to his wrist, watching the blood pour out like waterfall. Just a little bit closer and he would be able to end it all. Kurt would have the final laugh to his bullies, and he would make everyone else's lives much better.
He drew in a deep breath as he placed the blade against the vein. He could do this. He squeezed his eyes tightly as he slashed the blade against the veins that were transporting blood throughout his body, and he felt the blood escape. He fell to his knees, feeling weak. Finally, he would be able to go into an eternal sleep.
"Kurt?" a beautiful voice he recognised called. Why was Blaine here? The door knob rattled as Blaine turned it. "Kurt, I know you're upset at losing Nationals, but there's no need to lock yourself in the bathroom." He twisted the knob again, using more force. "Finn said you've been in here all day." When no one replied he called Kurt's name again, before pushing his weight against the door, aiming to smash it down. He could tell that something was drastically wrong.
Kurt's blood continued to pour out of his body, and he couldn't keep his eyes open any more. He was too weak.
The door was finally rammed open, the lock completely damaged due to the strength of Blaine's force. What he saw shocked him to the core. Kurt was curled up on the floor, his wrist cut open and a large pool of blood beside his body.
"Call for an ambulance!" Blaine shouted, his voice reaching Carole who was in the kitchen. "Please!" Blaine's voice was hoarse with emotion. Tears had started to leave tracks down his face as they fell and were instantly replaced by fresh ones. He dropped down onto the floor next to Kurt, not caring that his clothes were getting covered in the boy's blood. He wrapped his arms around his boyfriend's shoulders, cradling the fragile countertenor. How could he have let this happen? How could he have missed all the signs?
"Kurt?" he whispered softly, as he heard the sound of Carole making her way to the scene, the phone pressed to her ear, shouting demands to the person on the other end.
The other boy coughed lightly, and Blaine felt a wave of relief go over him. Kurt wasn't dead yet. He still had a chance to make things right.
"Kurt, hold on. I've got you, you're safe now." He held the boy in his arms, his own tears falling onto him. Blaine kissed him on the forehead gently. "Why would you do this to yourself, Kurt?" he asked, even though he knew he wouldn't get an answer.
The ambulance arrived, the sirens wailing, and Blaine knew that Kurt would be okay. Kurt was strong, he would be able to pull through this. And when he did, Blaine would never be able to look at him without a stab of guilt, knowing that if he had paid attention more this might not have happened.
A/N: So there you have it. My first 5+1 fanfic. :)
Sorry if it made you cry. "I hope it was like a good cry, instead of a bad cry 'cause it was really bad or something." Haha, I just had to write that Darren Criss quote. xD
Anyway, thanks for reading this one-shot, and I hope you enjoyed it.
Please leave your thoughts in a review. I appreciate them. :)