Cut the Cord
Chapter 16

Kurt picks up after the second ring that evening and Blainegets the suspicion that he’s been waiting by his phone. He sounds toobreathless to be doing nothing, though.

“H-Hello?”

“Um, hi?” Blaine greets uncertainly, listening to themuffled voices that bleed into each other, vague and fuzzy, Kurt’s fingerspresumably held over the speaker. “I can call back if this is a bad—”

“—No!” Kurt practically shouts, and the voices stop. “No,don’t worry, I’m just—“ Blaine hears the jarring click of a forcefully shutdoor. “—Going somewhere quieter.”

Based on the traffic sounds, Kurt is outside and Blaine’sconfused as to how this is in any way quieter. He knows better than to ask atany rate.

“So, how was it?” Kurt asks and he sounds weirdly nervous. Why? Blaine wonders. Is he nervous because of his own strangebehaviour, or nervous to hear about your day?

“It was…okay actually. I didn’t think it would be, butit—was. Sort of.” He hates how much he stumbles through sentences nowadays; hesounds ridiculously unsure of every word. He sounds foreign to himself, like heno longer belongs in his own brain.

“That’s amazing! I’m so pleased!” Kurt sounds elated. Tooelated, really.

“Yeah…” It’s funny, he’d meant to say nothing during thetherapy session and ended up revealing far too much, and now here he is, havingplanned to tell Kurt every detail about Dr Marissa and their discussion, unableto say anything at all.

Kurt laughs happily and then a siren blares and he’s drownedout; he’s gone quiet by the time it has passed.

“We talked about you.” Blaine doesn’t know what makes himsay it, but it falls out of his mouth like everything else does. There’s ahorrible pause on the other end of the line.

“…Oh?” Kurt says quietly, barely a question.

“Yeah.” Blaine doesn’t elaborate; it’s clear that Kurtdoesn’t want him to. God, he can already feel himself slipping upwards and outof Kurt’s tentative grip once more; bobbing uselessly into the darkness as thereality of nothing ever changingfilters into focus. He feels his chest constrict with that weirdpanic-come-hopelessness feeling, his vision going too sharp too quickly. Thepause goes on and on and Blaine hates it. Then it’s broken by a voice—a deepvoice that is clearly not Kurt’s and something in Blaine snaps.

He presses the ‘end call’ button and drops his phone withoutthinking, as if it’s suddenly burning his hand. Except it isn’t and that’s theproblem; Blaine wants it to burn—Kurt should cause fire—but all he feels isdread shivering through his muscles as numbness pours into him once more. It’slike he’s some weird human glow-stick that’s just snapped in two, the poisonousliquid inside seeping out. Fuck, he hates this feeling. He hates himself morefor allowing this feeling to happen; it shouldn’t even exist. Or maybe you shouldn’t exist.

Somehow he ends up on the bed, arms tucked protectivelyaround himself, falling apart anyway. He stares at the wall until he thinkshe’s about to explode from the irritating whiteness of it and then rolls overonto his stomach, pressing his face into the pillow — not quite forcefullyenough to suffocate himself, but just enough to be aware of the option. Hedoesn’t fully understand why he’s gone so numb and his inability to understandhis own stupid emotions prevents him from fighting them. You can’t fight something cannot be punched, he thinks, and slowlythe thought transmutes into images of little red punching gloves pummellinginto his body, bruising him over and over again. He can’t feel any actual pain,but it’s still satisfying as the punches pick up speed until they’re a wall ofdancing red, pushing him backwards inside his own mind.

He watches his door slide open sometime later and registersthe intake of breath before his mother’s hands are on him, fluttering at hisneck and, oh God, she’s checking fora pulse. He rolls over—he’s pretty sure she swallows a scream—and tries to saysomething reassuring. It’s okay, I’m notdead, please stop thinking that’s going to happen, I’m so sorry I keep scaringyou, I’m fine. His mouth won’t move though so he just reaches out andclutches hold of her arm; he doesn’t know what his aim is until his motherwraps her arms around him, hugging him tightly to her. It’s an awkward angle, made more so by theyears of misunderstanding between them, but Blaine needs someone to hold himtogether for a moment, just while he catches his breath. If it comforts her,too, that’s a bonus.

She sits down on the bed and doesn’t let go of him, strokinghis hair like she’s done far too much recently. Blaine hears footstepsapproaching and closes his eyes, not ready for the illusion of comfort toshatter just yet. His father’s voice asks various questions — he doesn’t soundangry, just tired—and his mom replies with murmurs of ‘…I have no idea…’ and‘…on the phone…’ and ‘…contact his therapist…’

After a minute, he blocks them out. Or, rather, he floats upabove them, out of their way — out of the mess that he caused and keeps causingno matter how hard he tries not to. He doesn’t understand how it’s possibleeither; he’s out of air yet he keeps deflating anyway.

Kurt inhales and unconsciously starts counting to ten,unsure what to say. We talked about you. Kurtdoesn’t know how to feel about that.

Well, he does, but he doesn’t like it. Blaine talks abouthim with his therapist; he is one of Blaine’s issues; he is responsible forBlaine trying to kill himself. This isn’t new information, per se, but it isthe first time that Blaine has acknowledged it out loud and it makes him feelthe raw guilt that he has been pushing away for so long. He wonders how to puthis regret into words, and barely registers the balcony door sliding open untilAdam is tapping him on his shoulder.

“You okay out here?—it’s freezing!” He asks, and Kurt justregisters the hitch of breath on the other end of the line before the decisivedial tone tells him Blaine has disconnected. Fuck.