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Freezing (fic) - aka episode reaction to 4.04
(I've started keeping a notebook by my bed, and now do not get so frustrated with insomnia as I used to.)
Behind the cut because of spoilers.
Blaine POV, and I don't change anything that happened.
----
Freezing
Maybe it will make him forget. Not forget Kurt – he doesn't want to forget Kurt, not ever, not Kurt who rose like the sun on that dark day in November two years ago and who Blaine, like a flower, has been growing toward ever since.
Blaine just wants to forget how small he is. How insignificant. Kurt makes him forget that – or at least he used to, back when he was around and present and answered Blaine's phone calls and smiled at him and didn't keep himself hidden from Blaine behind a cloud.
Drinking makes Blaine forget, sometimes. But he doesn't think of this, here in the choir room. He doesn't think of this when a different answer presents itself on his phone.
This – this can be like drinking. Someone can hold him, and he can feel special and wanted and like there's a place for him in this too large and lonely universe.
Even if, really, there's not.
-----
He's in his car, in the driveway of Eli's house.
He looks at his phone.
He'll call Kurt. If Kurt answers, Blaine will stay in the car, back up, and drive home.
If Kurt doesn't, he'll go in.
Blaine goes to his favorites. Kurt is at the top, smiling at him. But the smile in the picture happened weeks ago. Would Kurt smile for him now? Blaine's thumb hovers over it, over Kurt's tiny pixilated teeth that Blaine can see more clearly than the screen will ever show.
In the end, Blaine doesn't touch Kurt's smile. There is no phone call. He powers down his phone, tosses it into the glove compartment, and walks up the driveway to Eli's front door.
----
It doesn't matter, so much, exactly what Blaine does inside that house. What matters is that he goes there, and things start, and he stays.
What matters is that he closes his eyes and pretends to feel okay, even though everything feels off and wrong and it's so dark here without Kurt. It's so, so dark.
He closes his eyes and he tries to remember Kurt, remember being with Kurt, even though the body and the lips and the hands are wrong, and nothing feels warm enough. In his core, Blaine feels cold, like those caverns in Antarctica that the sun has never reached.
He wishes he could close his ears, too, because the breath against his has the wrong timbre, the sighs have the wrong pitch, and none of the words he hears are things that Kurt would ever, ever say.
Whenever the bile rises in his stomach and singes his throat like frost burn in January – that's when Blaine wishes, and pretends, the hardest.
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