Cut the Cord
Chapter 22

Turns out that the supermarket is sort of distracting. Hereplaces it soothing walking down each aisle to replace the items on his list,pausing every now and then to decipher his mom’s handwriting. Her words are tooelaborate, little curls looping over each other unnecessarily; it’s as ifeverything she writes is for a posh wedding invitation.

He sighs and heads to the bakery area, wondering how thedecidedly dry-looking loaves are meant to be ‘freshly baked’ as the smiley manon the sign says. He picks some rolls instead and makes his way to the fruitand veg aisle, mood instantly souring when he catches sight of the ‘CalifornianKiwis’ on the top shelf.

The thing is, he knows Cooper does care; he just likes tocare from a distance. It’s ironic really that Cooper is the one who impressedon him from an early age how actions speak louder than words (Blaine, honestly,if you’d flicked the broccoli onto the floor instead of just saying you didn’tlike it, mom wouldn’t have made you eat it) and yet whenever Cooper’s ownactions matter, he merely hides behind his cheesy declarations of affection.

He chooses the greenest bananas he can replace and pushes hiscart onwards, glancing at his list to see what he needs in terms of dairyproduce. When he glances up to replace the milk and locks eyes with someone all toofamiliar, his heart sinks.

The thing is, Burt Hummel has seen him, too, and it wouldlook beyond rude to turn around now. Resigned, he acknowledges Burt’s raisedhand and heads over to him, trying not to look like he’s wheeling his cart tohis execution.

“Hey, kiddo. Long time, no see!” Burt pushes the sleeves ofhis overalls up absentmindedly, leaning over the handles of his own cart.

“Hi, Mr Hummel.” Blaine responds dutifully, wondering whatexcuse he can make to get away quickly.

“I’m trying to replace that fancy low-fat yoghurt that Carollikes.” Burt rolls his eyes, gesturing to the rows of products.

“The Greek one?” Blaine asks, handing the pot to Burt wholooks like water was just turned into wine under his nose.

“How’d you know that?”

“Um, just a guess.” It’sKurt’s favourite—he introduced Carol to it.

“Wow. I’m impressed, kid.”

Blaine half-smiles, pretends the compliment is genuine. Burt’seyes narrow just slightly and Blaine holds his breath as he forces his mouth towiden. He’s perfected the art of drowning noiselessly, knows how to prevent hisskin becoming translucent through its thinness, but he’s worried that Burt canactually see the air leaving his lungs. He doesn’t want anyone else to have tosave him simply because the unending stream of bubbles rippled the surface.

“What’re you up to for Christmas, then?” Burt asks, bendingover to pick up some cheese that Blaine is pretty certain he hadn’t intended toget until five seconds ago.

“Oh, um, just…family stuff. Y’know, the usual.”

“I thought your old man normally goes away at Christmas?”

Blaine mentally curses Burt’s impeccable memory.

“He’s staying at home this year.” He tries to say it likehe’s a happy son, but Burt’s raised eyebrow tells him he has failed. Plus, theexpression is so very Kurt-like that it makes Blaine’s stomach jump up to hitthe lump already starting to form in his throat. He keeps stuttering around itanyway. “I, uh, I heard you’re off to— New York?”

“Yeah, unfortunately.” Burt sighs, placing the cheese in hiscart and rubbing a hand over his face. He must then see the look on Blaine’sface because he hurries to clarify, “No, no, don’t get me wrong—I’m thrilledI’m seeing Kurt. I’d just hoped he’d be able to come back here to see Carol andFinn as well.”

You and me both,Blaine thinks, grabbing some yoghurt of his own to give his hands something todo.

“He’s gutted he won’t get to see you, kid.” Burt adds andBlaine isn’t sure whether his airway has been opened up or closed off by thecomment. Is he choking on air or water?

“Oh, well, I—um, enjoy your trip anyway and—and MerryChristmas!” He stammers, wheeling the cart off down the aisle, forcing thetears back until he’s out of Burt’s bewildered sight. He feels the hot, pricklysensation of shame crawl up his spine, cursing himself for acting like such alunatic in front of Mr Hummel. Why do youalways run away, Blaine? You’re such a coward.

He abandons the trolley in the next aisle along and fleesthe store before he can bump into anyone else. When he gets home, his motherdoesn’t even question where her groceries went.

Dinner is particularly bad this evening, his fathermuttering some comment about the leftovers they’re having and his momapologising for not having been shopping yet. None of them mention the fact thatit’s Blaine’s fault even though they’re all perfectly aware of it. His fatherjust stares at his plate as he mimics Blaine’s habit of pushing food around aimlessly.It’s probably the only thing they’ve ever had in common.

His mom is half way through a pointless story about an artexhibition in Cleveland when the doorbell rings. She clears her throat, clearlysurprised, and gets up to answer it. Blaine panics slightly as he’s left alonewith his father—whose interest in his day-old potatoes has increasedtenfold—until he recognises the voice at the door. Then he panics further,sliding off his chair to join his mother in the hallway.

“Ah, there you are, kiddo,” Burt Hummel says, offeringBlaine a grin. “We were just talking about you.”

I know you were,Blaine thinks, you’ve come to tell my momwhat a train wreck I am and I wish you wouldn’t.

“You were saying, Mr Hummel?” His mother looks like a rabbitcaught in headlights, or maybe a frog by the way her eyes are bugging out in aforced show of politeness.

“I was just wonderin’ what Blaine was planning to do for theholidays?”

Blaine frowns in confusion as his mother stiffens. Mr Hummelknows he’s staying at home; he’d asked Blaine not three hours earlier.

“We’re just having a quiet family Christmas at home.”

Blaine can’t hold back the amused smile at his mom’s words. Family Christmas are two words he neverthought he’d hear in connection with his parents. He’s pretty sure Burt picksup on his amusement, but thankfully he doesn’t comment.

“Hmm, well, I don’t want to intrude or anything like that,”He pauses and all Blaine can think is please,intrude away. “But I’m takin’ a trip to New York to see Kurt and I have aspare ticket if Blaine is interested.”

Blaine freezes and his mom stiffens impossibly further. “Oh,well, I—it’s a very kind offer, Mr Hummel, but I’m not sure—”

“Yes, please,” Blaine cuts her off, a dangerous hopefluttering inside him. “If Kurt doesn’t mind of course.”

“I’m keeping it a surprise for him—don’t worry I won’t wrapyou up with a bow or anything.”

It’s a light-hearted comment, but the information containedin it slams a lid on the tiny jar of hope that was just beginning to tip over.

“Oh, no, I don’t want to….intrude.” He mimics Burt’s ownphrasing, ducking his head in case any stray tears attempt to betray him forthe second time that day. “I’m sure Kurt is looking forward to seeing you—”

“—And he’ll still get to see me, just with the added bonusof seeing you as well.”

Blaine huffs out alaugh again. He’s about as far from a ‘bonus’ as Kurt can get.

“Honestly, kid, he’ll be thrilled to see you. You’re all hetalks about—even now.” Burt adds pointedly when Blaine goes to protest. “And Iwouldn’t have bought you an extra ticket this afternoon unless I was certain. Iknow my son.”

“I…don’t know if this is a good idea.” His mother pipes upand Blaine’s not sure whether he’s glad or annoyed at her interruption.

“Well, if Blaine would like to, I’m happy to discuss it withthat therapist guy he’s seeing. I just thought a change a scene might do usboth some good, huh, Blaine?”

He wants to say yes so badly, but he’d rather spend ahundred Christmases at home than make Kurt feel uncomfortable for one of them.

“He’s been so worried about you.” Burt says in a quietertone, ducking his head to try and catch Blaine’s gaze. “It would honestly makehis Christmas if he got to spend it with you, knowing you’re ok.”

“I don’t…”

“No pressure; if you don’t want to, that’s fine. Just don’tsay no on Kurt’s account ‘cause trust me you won’t be doing him any favours.”

“Ok,” Blaine says, drawing the word out as his brain catchesup with it. “Ok, I’ll come.”

“Awesome!” Burt does a stupid little punch in the air andBlaine can’t help but return his grin; it’s infectious. And he’s going to see Kurt.

“Well I should probably talk it through with Dr Marissa,Blaine. I know you were going to stay with Cooper, but family is a littledifferent and you’ll need to make sure you take all your medication with you,and have an emergency contact ready...”

He knows his mother is just being practical, caring aboutBlaine in her own weird way, but in this moment, he feels angry at her formarring the experience before it’s even started.

“Mom. It’ll be fine.” He says shortly and Burt clears histhroat.

“No, you’re entirely right, Mrs Anderson. Have a chat withBlaine’s doctor and see what he thinks. It’s just an idea.”

“I’d really like to go.” Blaine says, feeling like the wholething is slipping through his fingers before it’s even touched his palm.

His mom looks at him—really looks at him for the first timesince he was in the hospital—and nods. “Ok,” She says, placing a hand on hisshoulder and turning back to Burt. “I’ll double check with Dr Marissa and ifhe’s fine with it, I don’t see why Blaine can’t go to New York for a couple ofdays. As long as he’s back well before New Year.” She adds, and Blaine nods inagreement; as long as he gets to see Kurt, he doesn’t care about the terms.

A tiny voice in the back of his head wonders whether balloonsare meant to travel in planes, whether the change in pressure will be too muchfor him, but he squashes it into a ball and locks it away. He’s going to seeKurt and that’s all that matters.