Cut the Cord
Chapter 8

When Kurt wakes up the next morning, he is full of hope. Yesterday,he’d stopped pretending and now he knows. He knows that Blaine isn’t ok, noteven close, and it’s going to take more than a pat on the back and a cup of teato make him better. A lot more. And that’s fine, because the more Kurt thoughtabout it yesterday, the more he realised that he hadn’t exactly been a good friendto Blaine. And, yes, Blaine had cheated on him and Kurt had every right to beangry, but he should have reached out more, even if it was only through Finn orTina, and made sure Blaine was actually ok. He shouldn’t have interpreted theradio silence as hurtful apathy. After all, Kurt hadn’t been the only one tolose his other half that night.

Looking back over those fateful few weeks beforehand,though, it’s suddenly very clear that they hadn’t been healthy for a while. Infact, it had felt like Kurt had been the only one in the relationship long beforeBlaine broke it. And he thinks maybe that was his own fault; he was so wrappedup in his own bubble of growingupnewyorkvoguebusyexcitingthat he’d forgotten Blaine had his own different and decidedly smallerbubble around him. Even when they had talked on the phone for an hour straight,they’d simply been talking at eachother. Well, admittedly Kurt had done most of the talking, but still, the pointremained that they hadn’t been healthy and neither of them had done anything torectify that. Blaine might have smashed their relationship to pieces, but itwas already so badly cracked that he hadn’t needed to hit it very hard.

He’s also realised that Blaine’s condition isn’t entirely todo with him; he has (somewhat self-centredly) been under the assumption thatBlaine broke down entirely because of their break-up. But whilst break-ups makepeople feel sad, they most certainly shouldn’t prompt people to killthemselves, right? Surely there has to be more to it than that and, now thatKurt thinks about it, no one else from McKinley visited Blaine in the hospital(not to his knowledge at any rate). But, again, he doesn’t know anything forsure.

And that’s the other thing; he has to stop pretending heknows what Blaine is thinking and feeling, because he doesn’t—how can he? He wants to, desperately, but he has to waitfor Blaine to tell him in his own time and in his own way. He has to be patientand he has to be there for Blaine without asking for anything in return. Hecan’t ask for Blaine’s love, or his friendship, and he definitely can’t ask himto get better. Because it’s not that simple and he knows that now. But he’shopeful this morning because Blaine is coming round and they can do whateverBlaine wants to, or needs to, and for once he’s not going to make this dayabout himself.

He dresses a bit more comfortably than usual, no distractingzips or brooches, and puts a bit less product in his hair. He wanders down tothe kitchen and replaces his dad hunched over the stove and he clears his throatloudly.

“Morning, Kurt!” His dad says over his shoulder and thenturns round properly at the look on Kurt’s face. “What?” He asks defensively,palms held out.

“Bacon, dad? Really?”

“I just thought Blaine might like some actual food—and don’tgive me that look, granola does not come under that category.”

Kurt wants to argue, he really does. After all, the doctorsclearly said that his dad needed to watch his diet and fried breakfasts in noway constitute heart-healthy food. But then again, Blaine does love bacon. Sighing,he helps himself to his own bowl of granola (hey, he doesn’t have to sink totheir level!) and sits down at the table. His dad joins him a moment later,plateful of bacon and eggs in hand.

“So what’re you kids gonna get up to then?” The questioncatches Kurt off guard; it’s takes him right back to those first few months ofdating when his dad had been in over-protective father mode, wanting to knowwhat Kurt and Blaine were doing 24-7.

“Just…stuff,” Kurt shrugs, unsure how to answer now he’s notattempting to lie about make-out sessions. “Whatever he wants to do, I guess.”

“Well, make sure you don’t push him, Kurt. Just keep thingslight, ok?” Burt holds his gaze across the table and it’s then that Kurtrealises the over-protective father act isn’t for his benefit this time; it’sfor Blaine’s.

“Dad, I know,”

“I know you do.” Burt goes back to his food, piling eggs onhis fork. “I raised a good kid—apart from his granola obsession, but I’ve learntto live with that.”

Kurt snorts. “Dad, come on, it’s not that bad.”

The doorbell rings then and Kurt abandons his cereal to goand open the door. Blaine is stood on the front porch in jeans and a hoodie,arms folded awkwardly over his chest. It’s funny because recently his facelooks so much older, but the lack of bowties and suspenders paradoxically makeshim look younger. Kurt wouldn’t have expected that in a million years.

Blaine still hasn’t gelled his hair either and it reminds Kurtof those rare times when they were home alone all night and he had spent hourspersuading Blaine to wash the gel out because he loved the feel of the loosercurls in his fingers. Blaine never believed him; Kurt had only succeeded once. Andsuddenly, he’s giggling because Blaine isvoluntarily gel free.

“What?” Blaine asks, his arms tightening around his torsoand Kurt doesn’t mean to make him feel self-conscious, he really doesn’t, butit’s just so funny.

“I’m—I’m not laughing at you—it’s just—” He breaks off asanother laugh takes a hold of him. “Sorry, it’s just your hair—it’s gel free.”

“Oh,” Blaine says, his forehead creasing as he tries to workout what’s so funny. “I’ve stopped bothering.”

“Mm, well, I like it like this.” Kurt composes himself andreaches out to lightly ruffle Blaine’s hair, not enough to actually mess it up,just touching it really. He sees Blaine’s eyes momentarily widen in surprisebefore the blank mask returns. It feels a lot like victory.

Kurt leads Blaine through into the kitchen, forcefully notnoticing when Blaine doesn’t remove his coat or shoes like he usually would. Hisdad darts away from the stove, clearly having been sneaking back for seconds.

“I saw that!” Kurt says, pointing an accusing finger in hisdad’s direction.

“Aw come on, it’s a Saturday. Blaine, back me up here: bacon’sbetter than his granola crap, right?”

Blaine merely shrugs in reply, his lack of responsereverberating round the kitchen and hitting Kurt in the face. He works toschool his expression (he’s meant to be understanding today, damn it), but hisdad doesn’t even flinch.

“Right, that’s it, this calls for a taste test.” Kurtwatches as he moves back to the stove, this time piling the fried food on a newplate, and then grabs Kurt’s cereal off the shelf, pouring a small amount intoa bowl and messily splashing milk onto it. He places both dishes down on thetable and holds a spoon and fork out to Blaine.

“Go on, try a bit of each and tell me which is better,” WhenBlaine doesn’t move, eyeing the fork like a rabbit facing oncoming traffic,Burt simply puts them down next to the food and then eases himself into thechair opposite. After a second, Kurt follows suit, sitting down next to theplace set for Blaine. The place he always sits in whenever he comes for dinner.

Blaine stares at the wall for a moment and then sighsheavily, sagging into the seat and picking up the cutlery. He scoops up aforkful and then tips half the contents off again so that the final portion ofbacon and eggs he puts into his mouth is minuscule. He chews slowly, gazefirmly fixed on the tablecloth and it takes him far too long to swallow (thisis Blaine who, whether Kurt liked it or not, normally had a habit of shovellingfood into his mouth Finn-style, especially something as greasy and disgustingas bacon). Kurt wonders whether his throat is still sore from the large amountof pills he swallowed and the resulting air tube that saved his life. Thisthought gives him the overwhelming urge to reach out and run his fingers alongthe expanse of Blaine’s neck, from under his chin down to his collarbone,stroking the skin he knows will be slightly scratchy at the top and so, sosmooth further down. He has to physically sit on his hands to stop themperforming the soothing gesture.

Once Blaine has finally finished with the mouthful of eggs,he moves on to the cereal, carefully laying the fork at the side of the platebefore picking up the spoon instead and excavating a little heap of granola tobalance on it.

“Nuh-uh,” Kurt says, gesturing to the spoonful. “You have toget milk with it or it isn’t fair.”

Blaine’s eyes twitch upwards slightly and Kurt thinks hemight have been suppressing an eye roll, but he does dip the spoon back downand allow a bit of milk to seep onto the metal.

He chews a little quicker this time and Kurt’s dad sits backin his chair, a victorious grin on his face even though Blaine hasn’t yet spoken.

“So, Blaine, which one tastes better?” His dad asks, shooting Kurt a smirk.

Blaine is quiet for a long time, his gaze flicking betweenthe two dishes, and in any other circumstances, Kurt would’ve found it funnyhow seriously he was taking the decision.

“The eggs.” When he finally speaks, it’s in a quiet,measured voice and he looks up at each of them in turn, briefly catching theirgazes before dropping his eyes back to the table and tracing the flowerypattern of the tablecloth with his index finger.

“Ugh, I should’ve known you’d take his side!” Kurt saysplayfully, mock-glaring at his dad. “Don’t blame me when you’re all dying fromheart attacks before you’re even sixty.”

“I wish.”

Kurt had meant it as a joke, hadn’t really thought throughthe implications of his words, but Blaine’s answer makes the smile drop rightoff his face.

“Nah, trust me, you don’t,” Burt replies before the silencecan get awkward and Kurt is eternally grateful for that. “Did you try thehospital food? No one would willingly expose themselves to that crap—not forany length of time anyway.”

Blaine shrugs, twisting his bottom lip into his mouth andcontinues to trail his fingers over the yellow arches of the flowers.

“Well, I’m just gonna pop to the garage for a couple ofhours; Max said the delivery had arrived. Give me a ring if you need anything.”This last part is clearly directed at Kurt and for some reason panic starts torise inside of him, unbidden, as his dad gets up and squeezes his shoulderbefore noisily leaving the room.

His stomach flips as he looks at Blaine, so small where he’swrapped inside his hoodie, and he wonders how he’s meant to hold a conversationwith someone so unresponsive. Except it’s more than that, because it’s notBlaine’s quietness that makes Kurt’s stomach squirm. No, it’s the way he won’tlook at Kurt unless it’s unavoidable because, in all the time he’s knownBlaine, even when they were just friends, Blaine has always looked at Kurt. In fact, sometimes inthose first few weeks, it had felt like Blaine was the only one in the worldwho looked at him, the only one to actually see him. But as Blaine runs a handdistractedly over his forehead, pushing stray hair out of the way, Kurtrealises that maybe it’s his turn to do the looking. Perhaps Blaine isn’t aftersomeone to talk to after all; perhaps he just wants someone to see him.