Cut the Cord
Chapter 18

Blaine stares at the desk in front of him and notices it’smessier than the last time he was here; perhaps he’s messed up the schedulewith his emergency appointment and now everything is hectic. Dr Marissa doesn’tlet on if that is the case.

“What led to the cheating?” He asks casually, uncapping thesame pen as last time. Blaine notices that he phrases it to avoid placing anyblame which doesn’t seem very fair at all; Blaine deserves to feel guilty.

Blaine shrugs and wishes he had something to fiddle with;his hands feel too large and out of place in his lap. He definitely should haveworn a hoodie to tuck his hands into. “I don’t really know.”

“Okay,” Dr Marissa writes something even though Blaine has givenhim nothing to write down. “I don’t want to put words in your mouth, but if Iasked you some questions about how you were feeling back then, maybe we canfigure it out together?”

Blaine shrugs. He really doesn’t want to be here, but hismother had insisted on bringing his appointment forward after last night’sfiasco. This was the earliest time they could squeeze him in and Blaine ispretty sure Dr Marissa is working over-time since it’s six o’clock in theevening.

“So were you still in Glee club? Were you still singing?”

“Um, yeah.” He pauses, almost elaborates and then stopshimself. Dr Marissa seems to sense this because he waits Blaine out, eyebrowsraised just slightly. “I was in, like, all the clubs back then.”

Dr Marissa nods, smiling. “And you enjoyed them all?”

“Yeah, mainly. A few of them were a bit weird, but they keptme busy during lunch breaks.”

“Were your friends in these clubs too?”

“Some of them, I guess. Not many.” He adds, thinking aboutit properly.

“So would it be fair to say you were getting a little bitdistant from your friends if you were busy every lunchtime?”

“Probably.” Blaine agrees, wondering if that’s another thinghe’s meant to feel guilty for.

“Did you start to feel lonely?”

“Kurt stopped answering my calls.” He says instead. Itdoesn’t answer the question, and yet it really, really does.

“Okaaay.” Dr Marissa draws the ‘a’ sound out as he writesand then pauses, tilts his head to the side. “So you were still very active andbusy, and you stopped having down time?”

“No. I mean, I probably got more time off than beforebecause I stopped going out with the New Directions quite so much.”

“The New Directions…?”

“That’s the name of our Glee club.”

“I see. But what I mean, Blaine—sorry, I didn’t phrase thisvery well—is that you had time off, but you stopped having down time where you could just discuss trivial things with, say,Kurt and not think too carefully about it.”

Blaine lets out a laugh. “Yeah, you could say that. Idefinitely started thinking more.”

“About anything in particular?”

“Just…stuff.” He answers unhelpfully and Dr Marissapresumably decides he’s pushed far enough in that direction because he changestact.

“So would you like to discuss last night? Your mom soundedquite concerned on the phone.”

Blaine sighs, yet another wave of guilt cresting inside ofhim. “Yeah, she does that.”

“All mothers dothat.” Dr Marissa corrects, grinning. Blaine tries to work out whether he’sattractive or not—it’s a game he likes to play with himself sometimes—butwhilst his therapist isn’t exactly unpleasant on the eyes, Blaine can’t quitesee him as good-looking. He can’t seem to replace anyone good-looking nowadays.“So…?” Dr Marissa prompts after a moment’s silence and Blaine snaps back to theissue at hand.

“I dunno…Kurt rang.” Blaine knows he sounds like a brokenrecord, but he doesn’t know what else to say. All roads lead back to Kurt.

“And you fought?”

“Nope. We were chatting—about you actually—but it was reallyawkward and weird, and then I realised he had company.”

“Another man?” Damn, Dr Marissa is good at his job.

Blaine nods and can’t meet his eyes all over again. “Thatwasn’t even why—I mean, I don’t—but it was just…it was weird.”

“This next question’s a little tough, but I need you to behonest with me, Blaine, okay? Last night, did you feel suicidal again?”

“A—a bit? Not really, I just felt…I don’t know, maybelike I didn’t want to exist? But I don’t want to die or anything like that, notanymore.” He hates how pathetic his voice has gone, but Dr Marissa doesn’tacknowledge it.

“Ok,” He says, writing one more thing down. “Ok, so here’swhat we’re going to do. Every time you start to feel like that, I want you tothink of one good memory, or one thing that makes you happy, but it can’t berelated to Kurt. You can’t stop yourself feeling like that, but you can starttraining your brain how to pull yourself out of it again, even if it’s justuntil you can talk things through with me. But it can’t be about Kurt. Is thatokay?”

Blaine frowns. “Most of my good thoughts are about Kurt.He’s my fire.”

If the last part of the sentence is strange to Dr Marissa,he doesn’t let it show. “I know; that’s exactly why you should try and replacesomething else to use. It could be about a childhood vacation, or when youfirst brought a pet home or—I don’t know—maybe when you used to sing in gleeclub?”

Blaine nods, wondering if thinking about the Warblers whenhe first joined Dalton would work.

“I’ve nothing against Kurt and I definitely don’t think youshould stop talking to him, or thinking about him, or anything like that. Ijust want you to use something else to help when you feel like maybe you’drather not exist at that moment, ok? Because Kurt can make you happy, but Idon’t want him to become your happiness, if that makes sense.”

“Yeah, no, I get it.” Blaine says, and he thinks he reallymight.

“Awesome.” Dr Marissa smiles, capping his pen. “So I’ll seeyou in three days—unless you think you might want another chat sooner?”

It’s funny how much more harmless ‘chat’ sounds compared tothe word appointment. Blaine appreciates the effort. “I think Friday will befine—but, I might change my mind.” He covers himself quickly, just to be on thesafe side.

“Awesome.” Dr Marissa repeats, standing up to show Blaineout. “Go home and watch some trashy television or something. And I’ve told yourparents that we’ll tackle going back to school next week so don’t worry aboutthat. Have a good few days, Blaine.”

“Yeah, you too.” Blaine says mindlessly, feeling the coldair of the reception area hit him as he steps out of the office. It’s going tobe a long three days.

His mom asks him questions non-stop on the way home, veryfew of which Blaine can actually answer truthfully, and he’s pretty glad whenthey pull into the driveway. She only drops him off with a quick, “Tell yourfather to pop that pizza in the oven!” before driving off again to her bookclub.

As soon as he goes inside, though, he misses her chatter.It’s better than his father sat in stony silence at the kitchen table, at anyright.

“Hello.” His father says, and Blaine thinks he’s either hadtoo much of the wine currently sitting in the glass in front of him, or his momhas blackmailed him into making an effort while she’s out.

“Hi,” He says back and checks the wine bottle on the counterwhich, surprisingly, is still pretty full. He decides he isn’t really hungry sodoesn’t mention the pizza; his father’s the sort to fix himself something athis own convenience anyway.

“How was the…appointment?” It’s stilted and awkward, butBlaine takes the bait.

“It was actually good, thank you. We talked a lot of thingsthrough and it…helped, I guess.”

“Good.” His father takes a long sip of wine and a deepbreath and continues, “Kurt rang last night.”

“I know. Mom told me this morning.”

His father nods, takes another sip of wine. Blaine watcheshis fingers turn the pages of the InvestorsChronicle he’s reading, notices how much thinner they seem, veinsprotruding more with age.

“He said he loved you. I was supposed to tell you that.”

He says it out of nowhere, just when Blaine is settling backinto the silence, fingers drumming noiselessly against the counter, and hedoesn’t quite know what to make of it. “Oh. Um…thank you.”

“I think he meant it.” His dad is watching him—actuallylooking at Blaine’s face—and Blaine wonders if he’s someone fallen into aparallel universe on his way home.

Blaine considers the statement for a moment, then nods. “Maybe.”He concedes.

His dad nods back, apparently satisfied that he has done hisduty, and returns to his magazine. Blaine turns round slowly, glances at thewine.

“Can I have a glass?” He gestures to the bottle, and his dadhums his assent without looking; perhaps he can only stomach Blaine in smalldoses.

Blaine pours himself a large glass of the red liquid andheads upstairs, closing his bedroom door behind him. He takes an experimentalsip and cringes slightly—he’s never been a huge fan of red wine, especially ifhe’s drinking alone. He places it on his nightstand and flops back on his bed,glancing at his phone where it lies next to him and pressing the home buttonout of habit. He’s surprised when he sees Kurt’s message, certain that he’dleave Blaine alone now he knew he was alright. He had definitely sent severalmonths’ worth of texts last night, all of which Blaine had somewhat guiltilydeleted this morning without responding to. He was relieved when he heard thatKurt had rang; at least someone else had told him what a weirdo Blaine hadbeen. Again.

The message lights up his screen and Blaine almost deletesit as well. Almost. But then he justsort of leaves it there, afraid to unlock the phone and read the rest of it. Hesits up and reaches for his glass, forcing another few sips down and wonderingwhy it’s not helping him feel less anxious. The words of Kurt’s message sitheavier in his stomach than any alcohol could so he swigs the last bit back andgives in, typing the passcode into his phone.

I hope you’re feelingbetter this morning—even if only a little bit! I’m so, so sorry about whateverlast night’s train wreck was. Hope you’ll forgive me. I’d really like to hearfrom you whenever you’re free. Just give me a call or we can skype orsomething. Hope to hear from you soon <3

The first thing Blaine notices is that Kurt’s said the word‘hope’ a lot. It feels strangely like a barrier between the words on the screenand whatever Kurt really wanted to say, not that Blaine has any clue what thatmight be.

The heart at the end makes his chest flutter pleasantly and,brilliant, now the wine starts toloosen him up. He very nearly rings Kurt on the spot but then he remembers hisconversation with Dr Marissa and picks at his nails instead, trying not tothink about how Kurt hated that particular habit. He then contemplates sendinga text instead, just a quick reply to start up a semblance of communication,but every time he thinks of something to write, it gets all rambly in his head.He lets the phone lock itself as the minutes tick by and then unlocks it againon an impulse, firing off a quick text.

<3

Well, it’s just a symbol, really. He’s not even sure what itmeans— perhaps message received, or thank you, or piss off, or God, I’m so inlove with you. Maybe it’s all of these things rolled into one stupid littlesymbol.

He doesn’t even know how Kurt interprets it since he doesn’treply. For once, though, Blaine doesn’t feel resentful that Kurt’s probably outliving his life in New York, maybe even hanging out with his new maleacquaintance. It’s no longer reason to see a red that quickly fades into a blue;it’s just a fact. The earth is round. Blaine dislikes red wine. Kurt is busy.

Maybe those therapy sessions are worth the money after all,he thinks as he settles back against the headboard, crossing one ankle over theother and flicking on his TV.