Cut the Cord
Chapter 9

Blaine eats another couple of mouthfuls at Kurt’sinsistence, mainly just to shut him up as he lists the endless benefits ofgranola, and then follows him into the living room. He sits as instructed onthe couch as Kurt wonders over to the DVD cabinet to select a movie to watch.He pointedly doesn’t dwell on the fact that Kurt always asks him what he wantsto do, or at the very least asks for Blaine’s opinion on his own suggestion(almost as if he’s desperate for Blaine’s approval—like Blaine will think himboring if he doesn’t agree with Kurt’s ideas), and yet this morning he gaveBlaine absolutely no choice in the matter. It’s both a relief, because he veryrarely has opinions on anything anymore, and slightly insulting because, hello,he’s not a helpless invalid.

Kurt selects You’veGot Mail even though they’ve both seen it at least ten times, half of thosetogether, and after sliding it into the DVD player, he sits down next to Blaineon the couch, somewhere between Blaine and the other end. In fact, hispositioning is suspiciously equidistant, as if he didn’t want to make Blaine(or himself) uncomfortable by sitting too close, but equally didn’t want Blaineto think that was what he was doing so avoided sitting up against the arm. Itannoys Blaine in a way he can’t comprehend; Kurt is only being nice, he’s onlytrying to make Blaine as comfortable as possible, but their stiff postures andthe even stiffer silence is suffocating. The movie has started and Kurt hasn’tmade a single sassy side-comment. Maybe with anyone else it wouldn’t have beena big deal, but since Blaine is kind of an expert at watching movies with KurtHummel, he knows the strangeness of this reserved behaviour. And ten minutesinto the film it’s really starting to frustrate him.

Because it is frustrating. He wants to know what Kurt’sthinking, wants to push against the silence like a tongue against a mouth ulcer,because even if the result is pain, at least he’ll know something’s there. But maybe there’s nothing there.Maybe it’s just white light and static and Blaine is making it all up in hishead. Wouldn’t be the first time.

Blaine sits there in silent agony for another ten minutesbefore Kurt seems to twig that Blaine’s practically vibrating withuncomfortableness and turns to look at him for the first time. At least one ofthem has been watching the film.

“Are you cold?” Kurt asks and, really, could he have asked amore stupid question?

“No.” Blaine replies, refusing to tear his eyes from the TVscreen even though he can’t focus on the scenes flitting across it.

“Sure? ‘Cause I can get the blanket from off my bed—that bigfluffy one that you like.”

“No.” Blaine repeats, and then adds a terse, “Thank you.” asan afterthought.

Kurt hums in acknowledgement and returns his attention tothe film. Blaine exhales in relief and then internally curses when the noiseonly succeeds in attracting Kurt’s eyes again.

“Pretty exciting about Cooper, huh?” Kurt says, his facesuddenly full of enthusiasm.

“What?” Blaine is genuinely confused by this; as far as he’saware Kurt and Cooper haven’t spoken since he came to visit last year.

“Y’know, the part he got in that horror film, the one that’scoming out next year. It’s going to be a huge box office success apparently—Iknow he’s only got a supporting role, but still, he’ll get to go to an actualpremiere and meet all these—”

“How do you know that?” Blaine is slightly freaked out byhow much Kurt knows.

“Oh, he told me when I spoke to him the other day. You knowCooper, any excuse to big himself up.”

“You spoke to him?”

“Yeah, when you were—a few days ago. He wanted to know howyou were doing and couldn’t get hold of your parents so he rang Mr Schue to getmy number.”

“Great.” Blaine glares at the wall, no longer even botheringto pay attention to the film.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Kurt sounds surprised atBlaine’s reaction which does nothing for his mounting annoyance.

“No, that’s fine, you guys carry on having nice littlediscussions about me behind my back…”

“Blaine, no, that’s not what we were doing. We just—we bothcare about you, that’s all, and like I said, he pretty much talked abouthimself the entire time anyway so it’s really no big deal.”

Blaine raises his eyebrows sarcastically and refuses to meetKurt’s eyes even though Kurt keeps ducking his head slightly as if he wants todo just that.

“So, what do you reckon? Is Meg Ryan even more fabulous thetenth time round?” Kurt obviously feels that a change in topic is needed.

Blaine merely shrugs, wishing Kurt would just continuewatching the stupid film.

“I think I love it just as much as the first time I saw it,in fact more so because I don’t have to put up with my dad falling asleep halfway through. It’s just such a classic story, isn’t it? I’m the first to saythere have been a lot of good romcoms over the years, but this has that extrasparkle, y’know?”

Blaine doesn’t know why he replaces Kurt’s incessant babblingso irritating when literally five minutes ago he was wishing for something tobreak the awkward silence between them. He just knows he can’t listen to it fora second longer.

“Kurt, just stop, ok?” He gets out from between his clenchedteeth, his tone more confrontational than he’d meant it. Kurt freezes.

“Sorry, I was only trying to take your mind off things abit.” He wraps his arms around his knees where they’re tucked up on the couch,a universal gesture of protection. He’sprotecting himself from me, Blaine thinks.

“Yeah, great, because a movie and small talk is just whatthe doctor ordered to make me normal again!” It’s like he has no control overhis own mouth, like his subconscious wants him to push Kurt as far away aspossible.

“You are normal.” It’ssaid with such fierce intensity, like Kurt really believes it, and that makesBlaine’s insides twist unpleasantly. He snorts and looks away, fiddling with aloose thread on the sleeve of his hoody.

“You’re just—you’re just going through some stuff and that’sfine,” Kurt continues and he really needsto stop. “You’re human and it’s perfectly normal to not be ok sometimes.”

“Kurt, I wanted to die—I’mpretty sure I still do—that’s not normal. About ninety-nine percent of mythoughts right now are nowhere near normal.” The words spit out of him as his fingers twitch around the lengtheningthread.

“Maybe the situation isn’tnormal, but that doesn’t make you some aberrant monster!”

Kurt jumps as Blaine slams his fist down on the sofa, theaction surprising him nearly as much as it does Kurt. Blaine closes his eyes,wishes he was back in his room. Alone.

“Look, Blaine, I realise I can’t understand what you’regoing through at the moment and I know that everything that comes out of mymouth just makes things worse.” So whywon’t you shut up? Blaine thinks as Kurt edges closer before continuing, “ButI can see you, ok? I’ve always beenable to see you and no matter what happens or how you feel, I always will. Notwhat you’re going through or what you want from me, or—or what you want fromyourself, but I can see you. And Ineed you to always remember that.”

Blaine looks at Kurt’s face now, so open and honest and fullof something that Blaine cannot bring himself to categorise. He watches thetear clinging to his eyelashes, struggling uselessly against gravity beforezigzagging down after the others that have already slipped out, and realisesfor the first time that just because he’s the only balloon falling, it doesn’tmean that he’s the only one with air leaking out. Kurt closes his eyes brieflyand exhales, resting his arm along the top of the couch. When he opens them again,he no longer looks like he’s about to burst into sobs, the iridescentvulnerability in his eyes replaced with all-consuming intensity. Blaine’sstomach flips at the flames suddenly erupting out of Kurt, just like the otherday, and licking around the edge of the couch. They only grow brighter as Kurtstarts to talk again.

“You know, a few years ago I used to lie in bed and wonderwhat was wrong with me. I used to wonder why I didn’t fit in anywhere, not evenin my own home, why I was destined toremain alone when everyone around me got to have someone. I used to wonder whenI could stop waking up early to do laundry and hide my daily slushy facials frommy dad. I used to wonder whether I’d ever be able to walk around in publicwithout being afraid, whether I’d ever be allowed to be different and proud—tobe happy. I used to lie in bed and stare at the ceiling and wonder what thepoint was, y’know? Why I kept bothering to go through the motions when therewas nothing in it for me. And sometimes, when it had been a really bad day,when my bedroom seemed especially dark, sometimes I’d wonder about ending itall then and there. About the best ways to go about that, about how it wouldaffect my dad, about what it would mean.The idea of it seemed so extreme but at the same time so simple, so comforting.It was like being wrapped in a blanket but not knowing whether you’re too hotor too cold…”

Blaine looks up again as Kurt pauses, his beautiful voicesteady but too breathy to be completely composed, as if there’s too much lifetumbling out of him at once. Blaine’s own chest is constricting as the flamesrise up, insatiable, because Kurt shouldn’t be saying these things, heshouldn’t know what they feel like. And yet he does.

A sudden memory flashes through Blaine’s head; a memory ofanother balloon floating past him two years earlier, covered in expensivefabric to hide the gashes in its slowly-shrivelling skin, contracting inwardsjust enough that the well-drawn on smile delicately falters.

“And do you know what happened, Blaine? Do you know whatpulled that blanket off of me?”

The fire is rapidly spreading, each undulating flametackling a piece of Blaine’s numbness. It’s glorious, but at the same timeBlaine can feel wetness rising to the backs of his eyes and throat and he’sacutely aware that this moisture cannot come out; water destroys fire andBlaine needs this—he needs to feel.It’s the sweetest torture having his emotions suspended like this; the euphoriaof everything unfreezing, roaring into life in one continuous picture show, concurrentwith the agony of keeping it from overflowing, repressing it just enough so asnot to shatter the illusion. He shakes his head, unsure whether he’s answeringKurt’s question or silently pleading with him not to go on.

“One Tuesday afternoon, I happened to wonder into some fancyprivate school where a certain handsome, dapper stranger in a blazer showed methat life has so much more to offer—somuch more—if you just have the courage to let it.”

Blaine should know this story—and logically he does—but he’sonly ever known it from his own perspective, he’s never seen it through Kurt’seyes. As the dam inside of him breaks, water cascading throughout in one greattsunami, tears gashing their way down his cheeks, he realises that Kurt used tobe a balloon too. Used to. Before Blaine and his stupid fake confidence freedhim from it. And now Kurt is drifting among the skyscrapers, in control of hisown direction without being tied down. He no longer needs a mangy bit of air-filledrubber to fly. He no longer needs a knight in shining armour to keep himafloat.

Kurt doesn’t say anything else, he just pulls Blaine againsthis chest, one arm settling securely around Blaine’s back, the way it hasalways done, the other stroking up and down his thigh reassuringly. Maybe, Blaine thinks in between sobs, maybe it isn’t hopeless, maybe he’s not alost cause. Because as small and useless as his life seems right now, itdoesn’t necessarily have to stay like that. Kurt escaped from underneath thedark folds of the blanket, so why can’t he?