this isn't beta read and i know there are many mistakes. i feel like the ending was anti-climatic and obvious but you decide. this was written before Season 4 aired and a reaction fic of the Box Scene. i was hesitant about posting this but then i decided: why not? so here it is. it may not be my best work, but i'm quite proud of it to go back and write bits of it again. i posted it on my tumblr some time ago (which is dareinchris). i also have another one called strut-by-lightning that is my writing tumblr. c: just to say.
this isn't made to offend anyone or anything so if i do, it wasn't intentional!
Mrs Adams always had to run around for most of the residents of the apartment for their monthly rent, but this time, she knew something was wrong when she realised it was two weeks before the payment for the monthly rent had to be made, yet she found a envelope on her desk, with Blaine Anderson and Kurt Hummel written in a beautiful, perfect scrawl.
Whilst she was happy about the presence of the envelope, she still wondered if the duo were leaving, and wanted to find out the source of why the monthly payment was given to her at such an early accord. She also thought of thanking the gay couple for giving her the payment so excruciatingly early.
She walked upstairs to the flat number twenty-four after a great big flight of stairs. She wondered if she should be more physically active as she was straining to get up those flights of stairs. Standing near their doorway, she hoped they were there as she knocked on the door. She only had to await a bit before the raven-haired boy she knew as Blaine opened the door. She stared at him for some time. He looked frazzled. Grey circles underneath his eyes and less than perfect skin. His hair wasn't properly gelled and he seemed anxious, the kind of anxious that a small boy had when he was awaiting something dreadful. He nodded when he saw her, giving her a small smile. He'd always been far too polite for his own good, as he stepped back to let her walk in.
She stepped inside, inspecting the small apartment. The pillows were lined perfectly. The table had a blue mug with the letter B scrawled against it and it was only halfway filled with what she deemed was coffee. The boy had always had a small caffeine habit, she'd realised. Actually, they both did. Far too often did she find Kurt and Blaine coming back, coffees in hands, and fumbling for keys, complaining about whom had forgotten the key or if the other remembered where the put the small silvery object. The table, otherwise, had a notebook on it. She wondered if Blaine was doing medicine or psychology – something along those lines, she'd realised before.
"You managed to clean up since last time."
Mrs Adams had quite a knack for recalling things – and she swore she can still see Blaine's usual living room. His pillows would be all over the place, and his couch would be filled with five or six textbooks. His whole table would be splattered with pencils and erasers. He would have at least three mugs of coffee; all of them always somehow had their initial. Blaine had explained once to the woman that Kurt had gotten him a set of those – orange, red, blue, black, white and yellow mugs with a B written in different fonts. They were cute ones, but they were certainly nowhere near small. Sometimes, Mrs Adams was shocked the boy can finish half a cup as it seemed like Blaine's mugs can hold in half a litre of liquid.
Blaine had given her an uncertain chuckle, nodded his head and then looked around their apartment. Champagne bottles were now perfectly near the television set. Bars of unwrapped 45% dark cocoa Lindt stalked near a collection of remotes. The nearly always stained carpet was clean and flawless. The curtains hung perfectly, and she could no longer smell strange odours coming from the kitchen. Usually, they would be a combination of rotten eggs and putrid meat.
Regardless, the woman did not really think that everything was fine. She felt uneasy, especially as she looked at the boy in front of her that looked like he hadn't slept or taken care of himself in days. "You seem troubled," Mrs Adams simply stated.
"Oh no!" Blaine was far too quick to deny any possible problems he may have, giving her a sharp, signature smile and then turning around to the direction of the kitchen. "Do you want some tea, Mrs Adams?"
His tea was always so glorious as well. Blaine had apparently lived in a house where all troubles were banished by a tray of tea and a piece of chocolate, or a biscuit. Blaine had mentioned his Mother always fed him excessively more when she thought he was upset. However, she felt like this small amount of time with Blaine pouring her tea would take up much of his time and he seemed diligent, even if the state of his apartment did not naturally reflect that.
"Oh no," the woman shook her head, allowing her black curls to bounce. "I best leave you with your lover. You younger folk don't need little ole' me to disrupt you now." Mrs Adams finally left, shutting the door from behind her.
It was only after the woman had left did Blaine take a moment to adjust a pillow that seemed to be out of place. He had turned around to walk towards his quaint little kitchen. There was a grand, red bag on the counter. He'd heard a 'ping' sound emit from his timer – the timer that was above his oven, naturally so. This made him turn to pull out his creation, a tray of fresh chocolate-chip cookies. He always had a habit of making a smell and taste test. Smell meant everything to Blaine, as even if it didn't taste well, most people would eat it if it smelled well. The aroma was of warmth and leisure. Blaine laughed, remembering that a week ago, Kurt had asked him if someone died in their kitchen and allowed their decompose body to rot in the fridge. Last week had been a haphazard of pizza boxes and leftover Chinese.
He'd placed is fresh cookies on a plate. His thoughts were suddenly fixated on Kurt. He saw that Kurt was lying on the bed. His baby's hair was always so coiffed no matter what was on Kurt's agenda. He sat down beside Kurt whose eyes were far too fixated on the screen. "Look, American Psycho is on. I always wanted to see hot killer Christian Bale before I die."
Blaine chuckled, but it was a sad chuckle. Blaine didn't know if Kurt missed it or not. "What?" Kurt said, chuckling as he looked at the plate. His eyes swirled with desire for the treats. "Dark chocolate chips?"
"Of course," Blaine confirmed as he laid a hand on Kurt's thigh. "What else?" they both shared a smile before their gaze broke to stare into the opening credits.
When Jared Leto was mentioned on screen, Kurt sighed and shook his head. "Ugh, Jared Leto's acting has to be good," he simply ravelled on. Blaine's eyes were now deep into Kurt's face, before he'd turned to look away before he got caught staring. Blaine dropped his hand to Kurt's shoulder only to give it a gentle, assuring squeeze.
"What was that for?" an amused Kurt asked.
"I love you," Blaine automatically said, as if it would explained every single thing he did right now.
Kurt smiled the same smile he did when he was seventeen and love-struck. "I love you too." To that, Blaine leaned to press his lips against Kurt's cheek. Kurt looked up at him but didn't say anything as Blaine pressed his head against Kurt's shoulder as he often did when they watched movies. Kurt''s eyes went back to the screen.
"Christian Bale's hair looks better than it did in that last movie we watched," Kurt commented and then added on. "Dear Chanel, whatever restaurant that is, the food looks sublime." He said, mouthful of cookies and fired up.
Blaine laughed, as they lay together peacefully. Blaine looked up at Kurt to stare up at him with glittery eyes. Kurt didn't seem to notice. "Is it bad that I'm attracted to Patrick Bateman already?"
"Nope, not bad at all that you're attracted to a psychotic character," Blaine murmured, his eyes on that screen. "Just wait until you get to the end—"
"Oh, Prada, Blaine, this is why I refuse to watch movies with you. You've already watched everything and thus, I nearly am always spoiled by the likes of your knowledge of books, films, TV shows and the like," Kurt sighed, shaking his head but then he added on. "Next time, we're watching a movie that I've watched but you haven't."
"Good luck finding one."
Kurt's eyebrows furrowed. "Moulin Rouge."
"Writer falls in love with Nicole Kidman." Blaine commented on the movie as Kurt sighed, shaking his head.
"V for Vendetta."
"Natalie Portman with a shaved head."
Kurt seemed to think for a moment, lips twitching. "American Beauty."
"Kevin Spacey being a paedophile."
"Blaine, is there something you haven't watched?" Kurt asked, shaking his head as a scene filled where Christian Bale's character was giving his dry cleaning to a woman. "…yes, he is insanely attractive."
"Kurt, are you even paying attention to the plot?" Blaine asked, shaking his head with a faint smile on his lips at the typical nature of his boyfriend.
"I refuse to hear you over the image of Christian Bale's chiselled chest," Kurt said, eyes glued to the screen. Blaine pulled himself back and admired this little alone time they had together. Kurt took another bite out of the massive cookie. "I swear I can eat chocolate chips straight out of a package."
Blaine rolled his eyes. "You do eat chocolate chips straight out of a package."
"Shut up, Blaine."
"So you wish it, so shall it be."
The minute Blaine walked into his apartment after a long lecture in his university, trying to balance his notebook and his laptop – he was greeting with the image of Kurt standing near the television set. He was fiddling with the bottle of champagne, trying to take the lid off. Blaine's first instinct was to put his laptop down as well as his notebook, wandering off to his boyfriend's side.
"You're out of bed," Blaine simply noted, as Kurt nodded his head.
"Well, whilst my future and lack of job or getting accepted anywhere is very bleak and depressing, I remembered that there's no point in sitting down on my tasteful rear all day. Even if I'm locked in this faith forsaken apartment, the least I can do is drink myself into submission," Kurt shrugged apathetically as if it was the most obvious thought process in the world. Blaine felt a little uneasy hearing Kurt talk ill about himself but he'd taken the bottle from his boyfriend's hands only to unscrew the cork for him. Blaine went to hunt for two wine glasses and spilled a small out of champagne in each before giving one to Kurt.
Kurt smiled. "Eloquently presented," he noted, as he took a sip of the champagne.
"Not too much now. You know your own tolerance, Kurt," Blaine simply reminded him and Kurt just rolled his eyes. He barely drank any kind of alcohol, and when he did, he got quite drunk on a singular class which was why Blaine insisted on pouring that adequate amount for Kurt. A smile found its way to Blaine's lips as he realised what was on Kurt's finger. "You're wearing it."
Kurt smiled at him. The bowtie ring that was a symbol for far too much on his finger. "Of course, I am."
"Remember?" Blaine said, taking Kurt's hand into his own. He looked down at the ring, as the memory filled his mind. This ring – this ring that he'd given him some time ago and maybe it was the memory, or the thought, or the idea of being with Kurt despite everything that was thrown at them that made Blaine's eyes water. He looked far too close to tears. Kurt took a deep breath, noting Blaine's emotional response as he tipped Blaine's chin only to stare into his eyes.
"Hey," Kurt's voice was soft, as he ran his fingers into Blaine's hair. Blaine cannot care about his hair when he was in this state. "Kiss me."
It was a simple demand, but one that Blaine obeyed as he tilted his head only to press his lips against Kurt's own. Kurt dropped his glass, spilling champagne all over Blaine's clean carpet. Blaine followed suit slowly after. The newly cleaned carpet was now stained with a wave of champagne. Kurt felt Blaine's hands reunite with his hips, almost by instinct it seemed, as Kurt pushed Blaine backwards into the couch. He straddled Blaine's lap, allowing their lips to entwine once more into a deeper proclamation of their collective affection for each other.
Blaine had gotten up enough so that his hands were around Kurt's hips, pulling him away from the doorway and into their room.
"Only seconds ago was I complaining about my rear being implanted on that bed," Kurt mumbled as Blaine laughed, lying him down on that bedside. Kurt turned around as a faint smile rested on his lips. Blaine had shut the door from behind him, even if they were alone, mostly out of habit. His shirt was off in what felt like seconds, and Blaine had leaned down to kiss Kurt again. The feeling of their flesh against each other, their love so beautiful and raw…
"We haven't touched each other in so long," Kurt had whispered.
"I know," Blaine kissed Kurt again, but then his eyes filled with sorrow. "I'm sorry."
"Stop talking," Kurt demanded, laying a hand on Blaine's shoulder and then, once again, he demanded, in a soft voice with a sound that was akin to a plea. "Kiss me."
Blaine stared at Kurt's face from where they both lay. Blaine's hand was resting against Kurt's shoulder, bringing him closer almost as if trying to make sure Kurt didn't disappear on him. Their bodies were still bare of clothing, and they were just two boys that were in love. Blaine watched as Kurt looked back up at him, with those large eyes that had tears filling in them. "I don't look like myself, do I?"
It was a simple question, yet it shattered Blaine's heart.
"Shh…no, honey. It's okay," Blaine somehow found his hand drifting towards Kurt's side. "You'll always be beautiful and that's all that matters, okay?"
Kurt's body was shaking uncontrollably as Blaine leaned down to kiss Kurt's forehead. "I love you," Blaine reassured him again with a soft whisper. "You're perfect to me."
Kurt let out a laugh, but then shook his head. "It's not the same, Blaine." Blaine looked away from Kurt's face, and he did know. Blaine nodded his head, but his hand never left Kurt's side. Kurt pressed his head against Blaine's bare shoulder, and all Blaine can feel was a cascade of warm fresh tears drain away as Blaine ran a hand down Kurt's side, reassuring him over and over again.
But that's okay. It's okay. You're perfect. You're beautiful. We're alright.
The next time Blaine walked into his apartment after a lecture, he found Burt and Kurt sitting by the couch. Burt had mentioned coming to New York for a while, and see how everything was and now, his boyfriend and Burt were sitting down and talking. Blaine knew they both knew he was there and them not stopping meant either one of two things, they were too fired up to give two damns about Blaine being in the room to hear this or they wanted Blaine to be involved. Blaine stayed back to watch the event unfold before his eyes.
"Kiddo, please," was Burt's simple plea. Blaine didn't say a word and didn't really make a noise, paralysed in his spot but Kurt's eyes had wandered towards Blaine before he shook his head at his Father's request.
"No," was Kurt's simple response.
Burt chuckled. Kurt was always so damned stubborn. He ran a hand through Kurt's hair, but Kurt looked angry.
"Dad, I just did that!" Kurt groaned in complaint as Burt pulled his hand away from Kurt's hair.
"Come on, Kurt," Burt tried to advance the idea towards him and then the man's eyes flickered towards Blaine. "Tell him to come with me, Blaine. You know he needs it. He can't stay in New York doing nothing at all. It isn't good for him. He's just sitting here being miserable all the time and it's just gonna hurt him, remembering all of those lost hopes and what not. Plus, the kid barely leaves his apartment and barely knows the roads."
Blaine looked at Kurt, whose eyes were pleading him to stick by his side. Blaine had shaken his head as he added on. "I think he should stay here, Mr Hummel," he politely said, as Kurt grinned. He had stood up to quickly tackle his boyfriend, hugging him tightly. Blaine hugged back as he added on. "New York is his home now."
"No, this apartment is his cage," Burt tried to explain. "This is getting too toxic having both of you agree with each other like that. It ain't good long run, 'cause Blaine, you're just gonna do anything in your power to make Kurt happy instead of you. You both have this thing about making each other happy and forgetting about yourselves. That's what's happening. I think Kurt needs to go home."
Kurt shook his head as he sighed. "I am a grown man. I'm staying in this apartment. I have nothing at home for me. I have nothing here for me. I have nothing anywhere and leaving this apartment is tedious and boring."
"What happened to you, kiddo? You're looking all pale and shook up. You look like you haven't slept. You're talking back when we both know I'm right. You eat more than you usually do – you do that when you're upset. What's up with you?"
Kurt's eyes darkened. "I'm just not in the mood for this discussion. I'm staying."
"You sure?" Burt finally gave in, knowing there was no way to get around Kurt's mind once it was set. Blaine had nodded his head and Kurt followed suit, crossing his arms across his chest. Burt sighed and then stood up, giving Kurt a tight hug and rubbing his back. "Kiddo, two things you're good at: being stubborn and being damn well always near denial."
"I am never in denial," Kurt murmured.
Blaine rolled his eyes. "Remember how you wouldn't even talk about leaving to go to New York for most of your senior year?" but this only made Kurt sigh and shake his head, even though he quite well remembered that as well. Burt said his farewells, gave Kurt another hug and Blaine a brisk shake of the hand before he left.
When the door shut, Kurt was the first to speak. "Come on. I have Nine on record and Marion Cotillard is in that movie." Kurt finally chirped.
Blaine laughed. "That was a nice movie."
"Damn you, Anderson. There's nothing you haven't watched," Kurt mumbled, wandering off towards the bedroom that he practically lived in, just to watch movies in a near always depressed state and eat food. Blaine had decided to make popcorn, saying that out loud to Kurt just in case Kurt wondered of his absence before going into the kitchen. The red bag he had there four weeks ago was still there, but ignored. He had taken a small bag of a hundred calorie popcorn to put into the microwave, knowing that Kurt would appreciate that Blaine wasn't single-handedly helping in the weight Kurt seemed to be very slowly but surely putting on due to the emotional eating. His eating habits had changed. His sleeping habits had changed. All his depressed boyfriend did was eat and sleep. His microwave was loud, far too loud and Blaine had always hated that, but today, he was grateful because it was loud enough to drown out his soft, uncontrollable sobbing.
Blaine had a huge assessment in about five hours. He was shaking in his boots. Some of the students looked close to throwing up and one of the girls just left to do so. He had sat down on a chair as he had his medical textbooks on top of his lap. He had trouble remembering all of the names of the anatomy of the human body, and now, he was going to puke if he heard the structure of the skeletal system again. He had to do well on this exam, he told himself. He had to. He had to. This could be so much.
Blaine looked at his watch. Maybe he had time to review the first part of the ninth chapter that he didn't get—
His phone rang. Blaine had looked down to see that it was Kurt. Kurt had never called him when it wasn't anything serious, especially since he knew today was his assessment day. Anxiety escalating beyond control, he took the call. "Kurt?" his voice was soft.
The call lasted for 4 minutes, and then Blaine left. Blaine left with the thought of Burt telling him that their love was toxic, and that Blaine would do anything to make Kurt happy, even if it was to throw away two years' worth of diligent studying. Blaine's hands were in his pockets. He quickly emailed his teachers with the hope that one of them would understand that Blaine needed to do this. He bolted for his car. He had to leave now. He had to leave.
By the time he got back home, he saw Kurt sitting there. There was that red bag on his lap. He looked confused, dumb-founded. Blaine knew he probably forgot that Blaine had a test today. He had been so worried but now, it was disappearing and fading. He wanted to laugh because he rushed down to Kurt. He'd be able to go back to do his assessment and be there in time, but for now, his eyes were on Kurt, and Kurt whom was holding the red bag, looking confused. Kurt was holding a tiny box in his hand, looking confused.
"You were going to…" Kurt's voice was wavering.
Blaine nodded his head. "Surprise you with…"
Kurt was biting down his lower lip. He didn't need to finish that sentence. Blaine had walked towards Kurt, as he sat down beside him.
"If you want, you can wear it," Blaine whispered.
Kurt nodded his head very slowly. Blaine opened up the small black box, sliding in the engagement ring into Kurt's finger. Kurt chuckled, looking down at the ring as Blaine pressed his head against Kurt's. Somewhere, in his mind, he was vaguely aware of the time. Kurt's eyes were only analysing the ring on his finger.
"Tiffany's," Kurt noted.
"Of course," was Blaine's only response.
Kurt had stared down at the ring for some time before Blaine had leaned to kiss him on his cheek. "I have to go. My assessment's in three hours, Kurt and I need to revise. It's just not an option not to. There's so much stuff and…"
Kurt nodded his head. His eyes looked a little bitter. "Of course," he mumbled. "Some people have a future. I forgot."
"Kurt, I'm going to talk to you about that later but for now, I have to go."
Kurt slowly nodded his head mutely. "Of course, Blaine," his voice was a little more apathetic. Blaine wanted to stay there but he didn't. He had to leave, and he'd managed to get there in time to have an hour and a half to review. His mind was hectic and he was worried about Kurt. He was also concerned about the details of his assessment. His exam was hard. He just wanted to cry when he was done and had to hand in his paper.
Kurt was depressed and sad about not having a future. "How was the paper?" was Kurt's first question.
Blaine smiled, and with a twinkle in his eyes, whispered, "Good."
Mrs Adams knocked on the door of Blaine and Kurt's apartment repeatedly. She stood outside and it took Blaine longer than usual to open the door. He looked tired. He seemed to be up for a long time. His coffee mugs were there, filled with coffee and his many notebooks were sprawled. He was apparently studying. The boy seemed thinner and his skin was paler. She wondered how Kurt was like, but she wouldn't prod at that for far too long. "You haven't paid the rent yet, dear," she reminded him, only to have Blaine slowly nod his head.
"I'll pay you tomorrow," she knew that familiar reply but it was his voice that made her drop it. He sounded so exhausted and overworked. "Promise," he added on.
Mrs Adams left after that excuse and Blaine shut the door. A few hours later, she watched him emerge with a duffel bag in one hand and a container of freshly baked cookies in another. In about thirty-eight minutes, Blaine would be in that far too familiar place, putting the container down on a table. "I made some cookies for you." He told Kurt.
Blaine had looked back at Kurt, whom laid on that bed. He looked sick. He was sick. "I knew you wanted to stay in the apartment, but I couldn't let you stay there since you…collapsed." Blaine knew far too many words, all of them popping into his head but he didn't want to use them. "Are you angry with me?" he said in a soft whisper.
Kurt's eyes filled. He can't really say a word. He was looked to what seemed like a thousand different wires. It was so much harder now that Blaine knew what they did and how much Kurt actually needed them to stay alive – well, barely alive at this state of his. Kurt had been sick for so long – the depression was only a complication of far too many things, things that they both denied. Burt had always told Kurt he was a master of two things: stubbornness and denial. They were in denial, for so long, they were. Blaine didn't want Kurt to leave bed because he shouldn't. Blaine didn't want Kurt to leave New York because a flight sounded risky, but at the same time, Kurt was miserable here. He was miserable being able to not physically do much, put on bed rest. When Kurt said he didn't have a future, he meant it literally. He was just going to die soon enough.
Blaine shut his eyes, as he tried to steady himself. A medical student that couldn't hate hospitals anymore at this moment. "Blaine," Kurt wheezed out. "Blaine."
"Kurt," Blaine stood up to walk beside him, placing a hand his shoulder. He didn't want Kurt to overexert himself at this current moment.
Kurt chuckled softly. "Fracture." He knew what Kurt was referring to the moment the word had left his mouth.
Blaine simply shook his head as a soft smile found its way to his mouth. "Never watched it."
xo Peanut Butter/Sam