Cut the Cord
Chapter 31

On the first day back at school, Blaine’s dad offers to drivehim in. He almost declines because it means he’ll have to replace a lift home, butthen he realises it’s the first time his dad has offered since he got hislicence. Plus, although he’s allowed to drive now that his medication is balanced,he still feels anxious every time he gets behind the wheel, as if the car isabout to spin out of his control at any second. So he finishes his toast andgrabs his bag before sliding into the passenger seat, happy to make somewhattentative conversation. His dad even asks him about Glee without any derisionin his tone; it makes Blaine look forward to it without the usual undercurrentof guilt.

Blaine gets one last wave from his dad as he gets out thecar and he thinks it ought to embarrass him, but it doesn’t. Maybe that’sbecause he’s been waiting eight years for that wave, or maybe it’s because hisreputation at this school could not get any worse. Either way, he feelsincredibly free as he wonders inside the main doors and heads to his locker.Not even the shove from a passing jock destroys his mood, nor the ridiculouslylong essay they’re set in his second period English class.

He even manages to score one of the salad pots atlunchtime—by far the most edible item in the canteen—and sends Kurt avictorious text as he sits down between Artie and Sam. The reply buzzes througha few seconds later, and it’s only a smiley face, indicating that Kurt is toobusy for conversation, but he’s still taken the time to reply which makesBlaine’s stomach flutter like a pre-teen with a crush. He grins down at thescreen until Sam elbows him in the ribs.

“Ouch, what was—“

“Dude, look out, she’s headed your way!”

Blaine follows Sam’s eye-line until he sees the potentialthreat and—oh, crap.

Miss Pillsbury is clacking her way towards him in herpeep-toes, tugging her cardigan tighter around her shoulders and smiling at noone in particular. It’s not that Blaine dislikes Miss Pillsbury, she’s sort ofsweet and also one of the few genuine, innocent people in Lima, but he reallydoesn’t need to give the student body anymore reason to think he’s a freak. Andthe guidance councillor venturing into the canteen just to speak with him aboutone of his many problems is basically equivalent to holding up a neon signabove his head saying ‘messed-up weirdo’.

“Blaine, hi!” She says enthusiastically, the others at thetable suddenly very interested in their food.

“Um, hi?” He sounds ruder than he should, he knows that; hecan practically hear his mother’s sigh in his ear. But Miss Pillsbury is justso falsely cheerful and loud, hervoice bouncing across the eerily quiet cafeteria in a way that makes Blainewince.

“I sent you an email about a meeting this lunch, did you…?”She trails off, unable to even accuse him of not checking his emails in themorning.

“Oh, uh…no, sorry, I just—”

“Would you mind popping along to my office?”

Blaine drops his fork and grabs his bag before she’sfinished the sentence, not even caring that he’s barely started his salad. Hefollows a still-smiling Miss Pillsbury out, trying not to care about the staresand whispers. Logically, he knows that their uninformed opinions don’t matter,but he still feels like a child being marched to the naughty corner, ashamedwithout fully comprehending why. It’s not like he’s airing his dirty laundrybecause none of them actually know the details—hell, most of his friendsdon’t—but they can still make out blurry shapes behind a sheet. This littleincident will be all over the school’s blog by this evening; he’s flashed themjust enough to weave a couple of absurd conjectures into riveting lies.Besides, the jocks need a nice little excuse to slushie him.

He sits down in Miss Pillsbury’s office and watches herrearrange the stationary on her desk. He feels like he somehow misplaced it allby breathing, that the stapler being a millimetre out of place is in some way hisfault. He wonders how she became a guidance councillor with her profoundability to make people uncomfortable; surely making students feel guilty forsitting in her chair isn’t the best way to make them open up. But then, Blainereminds himself, sometimes it takes a shrivelled balloon to know one. Maybe thefact that she’s living her life despite the gashes is meant to inspire othersto do the same.

“So, Blaine—”

“Am I—”

They both break the awkward silence at the same time and hetries not to grimace at her self-conscious little giggle.

“Don’t worry, you’re not in trouble. I just wanted to talkto you a little bit about your future plans?” She poses it as a question soBlaine nods dutifully. She nods back like one of the weird dolls hisgrandmother used to collect.

“…Ok?” He prompts eventually when she doesn’t continue. Afterimagining all the things she could have brought up, future plans seemrelatively harmless.

“So it says here—” She taps the sheet of paper in front ofher, “—that you’ve applied to NYADA.”

“Um, yeah. I applied a while ago, but I don’t really know…”

She tilts her head at him. “You want to go there?”

“I did,” He takes a breath and then realises something. “Ido.”

“Hmm…”

The sound isn’t very promising and Blaine steels himself.

“You know we’ve had very talented students rejected before,”She says after a moment, eyes ridiculously wide as they watch Blaine.

Blaine wants to laugh because of course he knows that; she’s acting like someone random appliedten years ago, not his own friends, his own—Kurt.

“I’m not saying you shouldn’t have applied—yay fordreams!—but I just wanted to make sure that you had some realistic back-ups.”

“I applied elsewhere.”

“Right, okay, yes.” She shuffles some papers into submissionand Blaine realises she already knows that. Why is she asking such pointlessquestions? “Have you heard from NYADA yet? Are you a finalist?”

Blaine’s stomach shrivels around the tiny bit of salad hedid manage to eat. For a moment, he’s tempted to lie and then he thinks betterof it.

“No, I haven’t.”

“Well, no need to worry; there’s still plenty of time. Nonews is good news, right?” She’s smiling again so Blaine resists the urge totell her that he wasn’t worried until she brought it up. “But I do want you toread this pamphlet because it’s good to be prepared.”

She passes him a badly-produced leaflet with ‘DEALING WITHREJECTION: WHEN YOU JUST WANT TO BE WANTED’ emblazoned across it in what lookslike ugly Microsoft Word Art.

“Can’t we just be positive for now?” He asks, refusing to openup the pamphlet. He’s sure guidance counsellors are meant to be encouraging.

“Of course, there’s always room for positivity! I justwanted to remind you that NYADA is an extremely competitive school and also ahigh-pressured environment so you might be more suited to—”

“No.” He cuts her off, no longer caring if he comes acrossas rude. Concern about him not getting accepted is one thing—even if it isslightly premature at this stage—but implying it’s not the right choice for himanyway, that somehow he’s too weak to handle it, well that’s something elseentirely.

He knows why she thinks that, of course he does. This timelast year she would never have made such a comment. But now he’s seen as aliability, susceptible to the slightest of pushes, as if too much competitionwill make him swallow another bottle of pills. She doesn’t appreciate that herassumptions are far more dangerous than a bit of stress.

“Oh, um, I didn’t…” She’s flustered now, hands flappinguselessly at already-ordered paper. She grabs another pamphlet somewhatdesperately. “Here, have a look at this.”

Blaine blanches when he sees the flier for Lima CommunityCollege.

“It’s good to have options and there’s absolutely nothingwrong with taking a bit of time to let things settle. After all, you’ve got tohave roots before branches…” She keeps talking, apparently unaware thatBlaine’s insides have turned to molten lead.

The thing is, Blaine knows that you need roots before youcan have branches, but he also realises the need to plant the tree in the soilbefore said roots can grow. And if he plants himself here in Lima he’ll grow inthis limited space. He needs to plant himself somewhere his branches can reachup into the sky, even if he waits for his roots to be firmly embedded in the groundfirst.

As much as he continues to resist her appeals and stupidsayings, stuffing the fliers into his bag and escaping her office as soon as sheloses steam, her words niggle away in the back of his mind throughout the day. Hedoesn’t understand half the formulas on the board in his math class, it’s someextension of the trig they were doing before Christmas, but he can’tconcentrate enough to follow how they are derived. Glee is slightly lessawkward than when he’d first gone back, but now he feels itchy in his skin foran entirely different reason. He’s not sat by himself anymore, but he’s stilljust an observer; he’s too distracted to pick a side in the argument over songchoices, let alone contribute any ideas of his own.

He follows the rest of them out afterwards, Tina stillrefusing to speak to those who didn’t agree with her, and it’s not until he’sstood in the parking lot that he realises he has no ride home. He could ringhis mom, but she’s probably busy now that she’s started back at work so hedecides to just walk. It’s not like he has that much to do this evening, just acouple of bits of homework. He heads out of the main gates and tries tobrainstorm essay ideas while ignoring the uncomfortable thoughts jumbled behindthe veil of suppression.

The honk of a car behind him takes him by surprise and heassumes he’s walked out onto the road without thinking, but when he blinksaround, his feet are still firmly planted on the sidewalk. Confused, he squintsat the car that made the noise and then realises that Sam is behind the wheel.He tries not to feel disappointed when Sam rolls up next to him and winds downhis window instead of just driving off.

“Where are you off to?” Sam’s face looks too big framed bythe gap of the window and Blaine tugs his coat tighter around himself.

“Home…?”

“Dude, that’s miles away.” Sam states, forehead creasing ashe tries to work out just how far away Blaine lives.

Blaine considers his concerned expression for a moment. “It’snot too bad and I guess the walk will do me good.”

Sam nods noncommittedly and Blaine’s about to say goodbyewhen his mouth suddenly drops open, eyes going wide as he stares at Blaine.

“Wait, you’re not like going to go cheat on Kurt again areyou?”

“What? No!” Blaine sort of thinks he should feel affronted,but he just feels angry at himself for causing that thought to appear in Sam’shead in the first place. “Besides, we’re not even together now so…”

Sam looks immeasurably relieved and Blaine feels familiar,unwanted thoughts creeping into his mind. He fights to push them away and holdSam’s gaze.

“Sorry! I didn’t mean to…accuse you of stuff or whatever,but the last time you went off and wouldn’t tell me where—”

“Okay!” Blaine cuts off, aware that he definitely doesn’twant to relive that particular evening. “It’s cool. I really am just goinghome; my dad drove me in this morning and I don’t have a ride, that’s all.”

“Oh—hey, I can give you a lift?” It’s clearly aspur-of-the-moment offer and Blaine envies his ability to invite people aroundhim without over-thinking the social interaction. It seems like forever sinceBlaine’s been able to do that which is why, on a whim of his own, he says yes.That and the fact that his fingers have gone numb, the prospect of walking thestreets by himself not particularly appealing, especially when it’s too earlyto ring Kurt.

And that’s how he replaces himself sat in the passenger seat ofSam’s car, chatting about random TV shows just like old times. Sometimes thelulls in conversation are a little awkward, suspended somewhere between wherethey are and where they used to be, but it’s light and uncomplicated and Blainelikes that. Maybe they both rely on reminiscing over previous jokes a bit toomuch, but they’re reconnecting on some level, their friendship reassemblingbefore Blaine’s eyes.

Sam drops him off still talking about a new game he wants totest out with Blaine and honks his horn as he drives off. As soon as Sam roundsthe corner, though, Blaine feels suddenly exhausted. It’s not that Blainehadn’t enjoyed properly talking to Sam for the first time in months, it’s justthat the whole thing was unexpected and draining. He’s sort of got out of thehabit of socialising and whilst he thinks he prefers people talking to him thanthe loneliness of before—especially now they’re starting to talk to him likehe’s normal again, less like he’s about to slit his wrists in front of them—itfeels like he’s still scraping away the layer of isolation from his skin. Hehas to work a little bit harder than before to stay engaged which is difficultbecause being polite and upbeat and outgoing, it’s always come so naturally tohim. And now it wears him out.

He supposes it’s a good thing. Dr Marissa would probablytell him that he’s being more genuine with his relationships now, that he’s nolonger pretending when in others’ company. But it’s also a pain in the assbecause he has to forcibly stop himself from being unsociable, make himself sayyes to things like Sam’s game night because he knows he’ll enjoy them once he’sthere, that all his doubts and completely stupid foreboding will come tonothing. He prefers hanging out with people to sitting alone in his room, butthe latter is so much less effort.

It doesn’t help that his current tiredness only serves to eggon the little voice in the back of his head that hasn’t shut up since hismeeting with Miss Pillsbury. Now that he no longer feels like he would beencroaching on Kurt’s territory if he went to New York, now that there’s apossibility of them getting back together, he wants his shiny Big Apple dreammore than ever — which is a problem when less than 6% of applicants areaccepted. Plus, he’s missed the deadlineto apply to any other New York universities so it’s NYADA or Ohio State and,well, the latter doesn’t really compare in his recently de-clouded eyes. It’sbetter than Lima Community College, but it’s still Ohio and if there’s anythingBlaine’s had enough of over the past few years, it’s this goddamn state. Eventhe thought of enrolling there makes him want to climb into bed and sleep for ahundred years.

When he finally gets the energy to walk up the driveway andinto the house, head aching on his shoulders, his mom tells him to come intothe kitchen. Apparently she has to go out for some work drinks and has leftBlaine elaborate instructions for dinner. He blearily nods, not having heardhalf the things she said, and decides his dad can sort it out when he gets inlater. Naturally, his mom notices how quiet he is and asks him what’s wrong asshe fusses with her purse.

The voices in my headare so loud I can barely get a word in edgeways, it’s never bothered you before,he thinks viciously, on instinct. Hiseyes widen as he realises where this thought process leads, where he’s beenheaded all afternoon really, and he offers his mom a shrug and a small smilebefore he heads to his room. He feels like his insides are swelling and verysoon they’re going to burst, leaving that old numbness in their wake. He’s achild being held over a drop slide and he doesn’t want to go down it, but healso doesn’t want to hang in this suspended state; if he’s going to be subjectedto gravity again, he just wants to get it over with. He wants to fall.

He ought to phone Dr Marissa, he thinks, arrange a quickphone interview if nothing else. But that’s not what he wants—he doesn’t wanthis New York dreams deconstructed by someone who knows his mind; he wantsreassurance from someone who knows him.

He rings Kurt and taps his thumb on his thigh as he waitsfor the call to be picked up, the ringing an endless hollow sound in his ear. Please, God, pick up this time, I’m scaredand I need you, just pick up, please…

No one answers and the automated voicemail gives him such astrong sense of déjà vu that he has to close his eyes. He lies back on his bed,tears already pooling behind his eyelids, and tries to be rational as he hitsre-dial. It goes to voicemail again and Blaine lets out a frustrated whimper,dropping his phone on his chest.

He knows Kurt can’t always drop everything for him, but hecould at least text, or tell him to—Blaine cuts off his own thought process,aware of how selfish he’s being yet again. He always does this, becomes wrappedup in his own needs and gets himself in a state—he can feel the dread in hisstomach, rising up and vibrating inside his chest—

Except it’s not something in his chest that’s causing the vibrations; his phone is ringing,buzzing silently against his sweater, and he grabs at it without even lookingat the caller ID.

“Blaine? You okay?” Kurt’s voice sounds concerned, but calmand Blaine soaks it up for a moment before he realises he should probablyanswer.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to interrupt…” It’s not what he’dmeant to say at all, but at least his voice doesn’t break.

“Don’t be silly, you could never interrupt anything. Hangon, I’m just leaving the office now.” There’s the sound of a door opening andthen the general background noise of the city.

“I can ring back later if it’s a bad time?” Blaine asks,praying that Kurt won’t ask him to; he really doesn’t want to be left alonewith his thoughts again.

“Nope, you can keep me company while I walk back to theapartment.”

Just then, Blaine’s mom pokes her head round the door,making Blaine jump. She looks anxious, probably ready to cancel her plans, buther face relaxes when she sees that Blaine’s on the phone.

“Kurt?” She mouths at him and when he nods, she blows him akiss and disappears again. He hears the front door close a moment later.

“Enough about me. What’s up with you?” The sounds on Kurt’send get quieter and Blaine wonders if he’s ducked down a side-street.

“I saw Miss Pillsbury today.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. She was sort of…concerned about my future plans.”

“Why? What’s wrong with them?”

“Ok, so remember I applied to NYADA? Well, that’s the onlyone I applied to.”

“Huh?”

“I only applied to one college.”

There’s a loaded pause and Blaine waits nervously for Kurt’sreaction. “You only—ugh, you are so unbelievably frustrating sometimes!”

This is why talking to Kurt is the best thing in the world;because had anyone else said that, Blaine would have gotten defensive orapologetic or maybe a mixture of the two, but with Kurt he just smiles into thephone, laughs when Kurt continues to groan dramatically. It’s probably why henever gets tired of speaking to Kurt, unlike everyone else he knows. It doesn’tmatter if he sounds off, or unpolished, or weird because Kurt’s seen him at hisworst and yet somehow has never run away screaming. Blaine feels like he canfully let his guard down with him; conversation with Kurt is his safe place.

“I mean, I sent an application to Ohio State as well, andMiss Pillsbury gave me a leaflet for Lima Community College today which looks—”

“Blaine Anderson you are not going to Lima CommunityCollege! Tell her to shove the flier up her—in fact, don’t, she’s sort of sweetand I still feel bad about that time I threw up on her shoes. But the pointstill stands.”

There’s another pause and Blaine lets the smile slide offhis face. “Kurt, what if I don’t get into NYADA?”

There’s huff of breath on the line. “Okay, firstly, you aregoing to get in because you are crazily talented and I honestly cannot think ofa better candidate. But, if they are total idiots and don’t offer you aplace—which, again, not going to happen because you sing like a dream—then youcan just take a year off. You can still live with us and work or somethingwhile you re-apply to more schools in the city. Either way, it’s going to workout.”

Blaine couldn’t stop smiling now if he wanted to; Kurt knowsexactly what to say and how to say it and, God, Blaine couldn’t be any more inlove with him.

“I love you.” The words tumble out of Blaine’s mouth as soonas he thinks them, still sagging with relief from Kurt’s words.

“Of course you do, I am an oracle of wisdom.”

“Wow, and so amazingly modest. You could have just said itback, y’know.”

“Presumptuous, are we?”

It’s Blaine’s turn to groan. “Please tell me we haven’tresorted to the royal ‘we’…”

“Grumpy, are we?”

“Oh my God, Kurt—”

“Mm, love you too, sweetie-pie.” Kurt coos and Blaine rollshis eyes; his ceiling must be tired of him grinning at it by now.

“If you’re just going to mock me…” He trails off,half-hearted threat left hanging.

“I’d never mock you, babydoll,” Kurt’s still using a babyvoice and it’s ridiculous, but Blaine’s stomach still flips pleasantly.

“Actually, I kind of like that one.” He says seriously, heatflaring in his cheeks even though he can’t see Kurt’s judgement.

“What? Babydoll?” He pauses and when Blaine doesn’t reply hehums in interest. “Huh, I guess I’ll file that info away for later use.”

“No, I’m being stupid, forget it.”

“Now why would I do that,babydoll?”His voice has dropped, it’s sinfully smooth as it meanders intoBlaine’s ear, and Blaine is suddenly fighting back a whine for a completelydifferent reason.

“Get it, Blainey!” He’s brought out of his stupor by a yellin his ear which most definitely didn’t come from Kurt.

“Santana, don’t—”

Blaine laughs as he hears the resulting scuffle on the otherend of the line; he’d forgotten that the loft was somewhat crowded now. ButKurt had said that there’d be space for him and Blaine knew he wouldn’t go backon that. Although, if Santana had the couch, Blaine would surely be forced toshare Kurt’s bed which—well, there would be no complaints coming from him.

“Blaine?” Kurt sounds breathless when he finally gets hisphone back which really doesn’t help clear Blaine’s head of certain thoughts—thoughtsthat, now he thinks about it, he hasn’t allowed himself to have for months.

“Yep, still here.” Blaine says weakly.

“Ugh, she’s vicious with those nails, and I swear she has a sensor for—I mean, I’ve literally beenhome two seconds, she’s insane—”

“You love her really.” Blaine reminds him, picking at theskin around his thumb and forcing his heartbeat to return to normal.

“I tolerate her.” Kurt corrects with a put-upon sigh. “Youknow who I do love though?”

“Rachel?”

“No, she ate the last of my Greek yoghurt last night.”

Blaine winces, wonders what kind of hunger leads a person toeat Kurt’s stash. “Ouch, she should know better.”

“Yes, but not the point. Guess again.”

“I give up.”

“Not so presumptuous now, I see.” Kurt sing-songs and Blainerolls his eyes. “I love you, too, even if you are a ridiculous idiot whodoesn’t apply to other schools in New York.”

“I’m sorry, I just thought you wouldn’t want—I didn’t seethe point at the time.”

“I know what you thought. You know it’s not true now though,right?”

“Yeah, I think so.”

“Good. Love you,” Kurt repeats, and then he giggles andBlaine knows what’s coming. “Babydoll!”

It’s not in any way sultry this time and they both crack up,Blaine’s stupid meeting with Miss Pillsbury already forgotten.

“Love you, too. Thanks for talking to me.”

“You say that like it’s a chore.”

“Well, you do have to wrestle Santana just to finish aconversation with me…”

“Fair point; you owe me one.”

“I do,” Blaine agrees seriously. “Talk to you soon?”

“Of course. See you, Blaine.”

Blaine can just hear him yell Santana’s name before the callis disconnected and he flips over, grinning into his duvet. He feels tiredagain, but no longer drained—just sort of drowsy, really. He sends Dr Marissa aquick email, setting up his next appointment for the end of the week, and thenspends some time picking the perfect song for Glee club.

The next day, he sings a solo for the first time since thestart of the year and even asks Sam to record it on his phone so he can send itto Kurt later. It feels so freeing to sing again, surrendering himself to themusic without over-thinking it and letting the words drift away instead ofhimself for a change.

It’s different now I swear

There’s something in the air tonight

And I can only stare at the glimmer of thenight lights

And what I used to be scared of is making meaware of why

I lift my eyes from the sidewalk

I was so lost, it was dark

I’m alone, I’m alive

And my hope still scrapes the sky

Like all these buildings I will try

To leave the world behind until my head isclear

Draw a new skyline…and change my atmosphere