Cut the Cord
Chapter 35

Kurt is in the middle of an Audrey Hepburn movie marathonwith Rachel when he gets the call. He misses the first one, his phone havingbeen buried somewhere amid the various blankets and pillows he and Rachel havefestooned the couch with. Whoever it is rings straight back, though, and Kurtmanages to locate his phone underneath Rachel’s foot just in time, frowningwhen he sees his dad’s name on the screen.

“Hello?”

“Hey buddy,” His dad’s voice sounds too controlled and thesickening sense of foreboding escalates into definite déjà vu. Rachel sits upnext to him, fingers already clutching into the blanket on her lap.

“Are you…okay?” He tries, telling himself that Caroleprobably just has a cold. Or maybe the garage hasn’t been doing so well. It’sprobably nothing to worry about.

“Yeah, yeah, I’m good.” He pauses and Kurt can picture himbrushing off his jeans nervously. There’s definitely something off with histone.

“Dad?” Kurt asks, a little more desperately than he’d meantto, every cell in his body frozen on the edge of please no, anything but that.

“I really wish I didn’t have to say this, bud.”

A deep breath. A shaky exhale. A pillow clutched tootightly.

“It’s Blaine. He’s, uh—he’s in the hospital.”

This time, it doesn’t feel like Kurt’s world is collapsingaround him; it feels like everything has turned to glass and he’s trapped inthe middle of too many walls going up too quickly. Everything is solidifyingbefore he can break them down. He’s stood on a glass platform, boxed in,waiting for it break under his weight, waiting for the stomach-jolting plungedownwards. Or maybe it’s already broken and he’s in freefall right now becausethe air seems to be whistling past his ears, the hairs on the back of his neckstanding on end as his surroundings bleed into one another, paint dripping downand staining everything in sight.

A small part of I’m wonders if Blaine is going to keepself-imploding, if this is a never-ending cycle of falling and crashing. An evensmaller part wonders whether Kurt will eventually get dragged into the vortexwith him, both of them crushed into nothing, trapped in too much glass. Avicious mental voice considers letting Blaine go, a selfish, instinctual kindof self-preservation, but then he realises that he wouldn’t be saving himselfat all; a life without Blaine would be damnation.

No, he will always choose to jump into the blender withBlaine, even if it means they both get shredded into tiny, irreparable pieces.Hell, if Blaine’s wellbeing really does rely on proximity to him, he knows hewould move back to Lima in a heartbeat. Words like co-dependency and unhealthymean nothing in the face of this gut-wrenching panic, of this simultaneousdesire to replace out why and not utter anotherword ever again.

“D-dad?” He wants words of comfort, but he doesn’t want themfrom his dad, not really. He wants Blaine. “I don’t….He was doing so well, Iswear—It wasn’t going to happen, not again—oh, God, I can’t—”

“Kurt, you’re not listening to me!”

“I heard. Blaine’s—he’s in the hospital again, dad…”

“Kurt, stop! It’s not like last time. I need you to listento me, please.”

Kurt stops talking, but his mind is still flashing through ahundred images a second, trying to reconcile his Blaine with this new timebomb, exploding at random intervals and taking Kurt down in the blast. Hesuddenly understands why people stay with drug addicts, or alcoholics, orconvicted criminals; you can hate that person as much as you want, but they’restill your person.

“…him up. He didn’t do it to himself. Are you listening tome, Kurt? Because God help me I will get on the first flight to New York andshake it into you if I have to.”

The words drift into his ear and they’re too loud andconfusing, puncturing the black hole currently twisting through his mind.Apparently they’re loud enough that Rachel can hear them, too, because sheslaps him hard on the arm and pushes the phone harder against his ear, thepressure slightly painful.

“W-what?”

“He didn’t try and kill himself, Kurt! He’s going to be fineand he didn’t try and kill himself so for the love of God will you just calmdown and let me explain.”

“He…didn’t…?”

“No. Those assholes at that pathetic excuse for a school didthough. It’s not pretty.”

“Why hasn’t…he didn’t tell me.”

“The poor kid only woke up fifteen minutes ago. They got himpretty bad; he’s been unconscious.”

And just like that, the haze is lifted and an onslaught ofcolours and undiluted anger hit him all at once as his father’s words sink in.

“What the fuck? How dare they even—oh my God! I hope you’vephoned the police because there is no way in hell they’re getting away with this. How is he? Can I speak to him?I’m getting on the next flight back to Ohio and those jerks better be locked upby the time I do because I—”

“Woah, kid, slow down!”

Kurt forces himself to breathe and almost laughs at Rachel’scomically wide eyes, the way she’s edged away from him on the couch.

“They’re still checking him over now, but they’ve fixed uphis ribs and head already, and now that he’s woken up they’re confident he’sgoing to make a full recovery. And I really don’t think you need to miss moreschool by flying back here again.”

“But, dad, it’s Blaine.”

“Yeah and he’s gonna be fine. He’s a strong kid and he’s gothis parents, and Carole and I, and all of his friends. So here’s what you’regoing to do,” He hurries on before Kurt can protest. “You’re gonna hang up nowso I can go and check on the patient. Calm yourself down for half an hour, getRachel to make you a cup of that herbal crap, and then you can speak to Blaine.The last thing that kid needs right now is you badgering him about the policeand stuff. It seems like his dad is actually stepping up to the plate for achange so he doesn’t need me to be his father and he sure as hell doesn’t needyou to be his father. He needs you to be his boyfriend, okay?”

Kurt blinks with vague annoyance at how right his dad alwaysis. “How did you even know that Blaine and I were back together?”

“It was only a matter of time. Look, Kurt, I know this isn’ta phone call you wanted to get and I’m sorry if I didn’t explain clearly enoughto begin with. But I promise you, Blaine’s going to be okay. I would never lieto you about that. I also know that you’re feeling overwhelmed and I don’t wanteither of you freaking the other out. So just give it twenty and then call himand tell him you love him.”

“Fine, yes, okay.” He pauses, eyes flicking down to theblanket twisted on his legs. “Can I text him?”

His dad just laughs. “Pretty sure you’re going to no matterwhat I say, kiddo.”

“Yeah, I am. Dad?”

“Mm?”

“Thanks for calling and for—knowing me, I guess.”

“Of course. This better be the last time I have to make oneof these calls, though.”

“You can say that again…”

“Hello, you,”

The first thing Kurt is greeted with as he clicks ‘acceptcall’ on his laptop is Blaine’s grinning face. Well, Blaine’s grinning facewith one eye swollen around the socket, a gash above one eyebrow and another onthe opposite cheek, and a neck disappearing into an uncomfortable-lookinghospital gown.

“Blaine.” The whine comes out unconsciously.

“Hey, no, don’t do that. I’m fine, I promise.” Blaine’slooking so earnest and when Kurt mouths an apology, he resumes smiling.

“What damage did they do? Did the doctor explain everything?Did he say how long it would take you to recover? You are going to recoverfully, right?”

“Woah, Kurt, slow down! Breathe!”

Damn, his dad was so right; he’s not helping Blaine in theslightest with his inevitable freaking out. He drops his head inself-deprecation and forces himself to take a deep breath and let the panicdrain back out of his eyes before he looks up again. He wishes so badly that hewas back in Ohio, that he could wrap his arms round Blaine and prove to himselfthat he’s still living and breathing.

“Sorry, you’re just—you’re kind of precious to me.Seriously, though, where did they hurt you?”

“Um, I’ve only got a broken wrist and a couple of broken ribsso at least I’ll be able to walk soon. Luckily, it didn’t puncture a lung orwhatever so I don’t need surgery; they’ve basically just strapped me up andtold me to sit still for a few days. And they’re monitoring the concussion atthe moment because apparently I hit my head pretty hard. I’m okay, though! It’snot as bad as—last time. And they’ve got me on pain meds so I’m good. In fact,if they give me any more I’m going to be toogood. Do you remember after my eye surgery? I’m pretty sure my brain turned tomush.”

Blaine’s tone is light and breezy; Kurt can’t work out ifit’s the calm before or after the storm. He’s still smiling, but Kurt catchesthe downwards flicker of his eyes during a particularly controlled blink. He’snot as put-together as he’s trying to pretend he is.

“It’s okay to be scared, you know.” Blaine looks at himsharply at this, and Kurt can see the denial is on the tip of his tongue. “IfI’d just had the crap beaten out of me for the second time in my life, I wouldbe. I’d be terrified.”

Blaine stares back at Kurt for a long time and Kurt wishesyet again that there wasn’t a screen between them.

“I’m so sick of being scared, Kurt.”

The admission is quiet, but the microphone picks it upnonetheless.

“I know. It’s nothing to be ashamed of, though.”

“No, it’s not…that.” Blaine takes a moment to think againand Kurt feels so incredibly proud that Blaine is choosing to trust him withthis whereas a couple of months ago, he wouldn’t have dared to voice any of it.Granted, Kurt probably would have accepted his too-bright smile in the firstplace and not pushed for the underlying emotion, but still, it’s progress. “Iguess I’m just tired of being afraid of everything. I’m scared of what peoplethink of me, that they’ll get the wrong idea or maybe too much of the right idea. I’m scared of the stupidjocks and the bullying and that makes me mad because they shouldn’t be able toget to me that way. They shouldn’t.” He pauses, gaze flicking between each ofKurt’s eyes. “Mostly, though, I’m scared of everything collapsing again. Itfeels like I’m going to mess up at any moment and everyone’ll hate me again—andI’ll hate myself, too. I hate how I’m on edge the whole time; even when I’mhappy, there’s still this little bit of fear in the back of my mind. What ifthis happens, or what if I do that and can’t handle it. I’m fed up of beingscared that the slightest thing will push me over the edge. I’m just…fed up.”

Kurt nods slowly andraises his index finger to the screen, tracing the line of Blaine’s cheek. Hewishes he could feel what’s on the screen, not reach through it exactly, justget the full sensory experience, the one that includes the soft skin ofBlaine’s cheeks.

“I think…” Kurt starts and then pauses, digs his nails intohis thigh. “I think you need to talk to Dr Marissa about this because I’m noexpert on anxiety, or any of this stuff really. I also think you’re the bravestperson I know for just getting up each morning and dealing with all this.You’re scared, but you’re not letting the fear control you. That makes you sobrave and I wish you could see that.”

Blaine shakes his head, trying to sit up further and thenwincing at the pressure on his ribs. “I am though. Letting the fear control me,I mean.”

“Just because you acknowledge it doesn’t mean you’re lettingit control you. You were scared of those idiots, but you didn’t run from them.That takes strength.”

“The only reason I didn’t tell anyone was because I was morescared of getting depressed again than I was of them—of this.” He gestures athis bruised face, gaze lowering. “I was being a coward.”

“No, they werebeing cowards.” Kurt can feel his hands twitching with the need to grabBlaine’s face, to tilt it upwards. “Look, Blaine, if you want to argue aboutthis until you succeed in convincing someone, do it with Dr Marissa. ‘Cause I’mmore than happy to listen if you want to vent, or scream, or explain every inchof what you’re feeling, but I will never, ever see you as anything remotelyclose to a coward so don’t even try.”

Blaine huffs out a breath and looks back down at his hospitalgown. For a moment Kurt thinks he’s pissed off, that damage control will needto be done, but then he glances up and his eyes are shining with unshed tears.

“Thank you.” He says quietly, and he sounds so young and sovulnerable that Kurt can’t help the watery little laugh, more of a sob, really,from falling out of his throat. Apparently they make each other emotional wrecks,though given the bruises littering Blaine’s face he thinks they should beexcused on this occasion.

“God, I wish I was next to you right now…”

“Me too.” Blaine agrees, despondent as he watches Kurt’sface and rearranges the blankets. “Kurt?”

“Yeah?”

“You realise we haven’t been in the same state since we gotback together?”

Kurt groans. “Don’t remind me. Talk about torture.”

Blaine laughs and then their gazes catch and Kurt’s struckby how beautiful Blaine is. Yes, there’s a purpling shadow of a bruise aroundone eye, accentuating the dark circles that have faded but not disappeared completely,the skin of his face swollen and angry in several places, but he’s still themost beautiful person Kurt has ever seen.

“Kurt?” Blaine’s voice is lower now, rougher.

“Mm?”

“What would you do if I was next to you?”

Kurt’s mouth drops open and he makes a very undignifiednoise before he forces his eyes to take note of the background behind thesmouldering gaze. “Nu-uh. No way are we doing this right now. You’re in ahospital, Blaine. A hospital!”

“I could totally see you as a hot doctor…”

“Oh my God, Blaine, stop!”

A pause, a dangerous glint in his eyes. “Make me.”

“I can’t—you can’t just—”

Luckily, or maybe unluckily because Kurt’s resolve was about0.01 seconds away from crumbling and he’s already uncomfortably flustered,someone else enters Blaine’s room then and Blaine’s eyes snap away from Kurt’sface and towards the intruder.

“Dad?” Blaine says, face flattening, and Kurt doesn’t knowwhether to laugh or cry because of course it would be Blaine’s father. Of course it would.

“Oh, sorry, didn’t realise you were talking to someone.”

“Um, yeah, sorry, I can sign off…?”

Kurt cringes at the awkwardness of the exchange andhalf-expects Blaine to just end the call without even saying goodbye. Itwouldn’t be the first time.

But then something happens that makes Kurt jump simply becauseno part of him expects it: Mr Anderson’s face appears on the screen besideBlaine’s.

“Ah, should’ve guessed it would be Kurt.” He says andthere’s no bite behind his words. He looks a little uncomfortable maybe as hesits on the edge of Blaine’s bed, but there’s a small smile on his face and heoffers Kurt a weird half-wave which Kurt tentatively returns. Blaine looksslightly shell-shocked.

“Hi, Mr Anderson.”

“Oh, you can—please, call me John.”

“Um, thank you, Mr—John.” He’s stuttering and he soundsevery bit as ridiculous as Blaine did when he had this exact same conversationwith Burt.

“How have you been, Kurt?”

“Good, thank you. Busy juggling everything at the moment,but good.”

Mr Anderson—John—nods and glances over at Blaine who isstill staring like a fish out of water. A very, very attractive fish, butstill.

“Did you know that the bullying was this bad?”

Kurt feels his back stiffen. “No! I mean, I knew it was bad,but not this bad. If I’d known—”

“I’m not blaming you. Not at all. I just don’t understandhow none of the teachers saw what was going on.” He breaks himself off, scrubsa hand over his face. “Thank you, Kurt. For being there for my son—for beingsuch a good friend to him.”

“Dad, Kurt’s not my friend; he’s my boyfriend again.”

It’s the first time Blaine’s contributed to the conversationand the silence that follows his statement makes Kurt’s ears tingleunpleasantly. For one horrible, horrible moment, Kurt thinks Mr Anderson isgoing to say something homophobic, or simple get up and leave.

But he doesn’t; he looks between his son’s face and Kurt’sslowly, eyes roaming over their expressions, and then chuckles. “’Bout time.”

For a moment, he sounds so like Burt that Kurt can do littlemore than blink. As it happens, his sudden lack of brain function doesn’t seemto matter because Blaine and his dad are looking at each other, both seeminglysurprised at the words now floating in the air between them.

“You should’ve told me, Blaine. We can arrange that footballgame we talked about.”

“What football game?” Kurt asks and Mr Anderson looks backat him.

“Blaine and I thought it might be fun to all go to a gamesometime.”

Kurt wonders if it’s the first time the phrase ‘Blaine andI’ has ever crossed his lips.

“It’ll be the wrong season now, dad.”

Mr Anderson shrugs. “So we’ll go next year. What do you say,Kurt?”

Kurt hates watching football with a passion, but there’s noway he’s turning down an invitation from Mr Anderson, not when it’s clearly aninvite to so much more than a stupid game.

Blaine knows him too well, though. “Don’t worry, I’ll buyyou a new scarf to wear. And I’ll pay for your snacks.”

Kurt honest-to-God giggles and smacks a hand over his mouth,grinning into his palm as he soaks in the look of pure happiness on Blaine’sface. It takes Kurt back to those first few months of dating, back when everythingwas a giddy rush, more I can’t believethis is happening than this isforever. It was freeing in a way that their relationship hasn’t been sinceBlaine transferred to McKinley, yet Kurt wouldn’t exchange what they have nowfor the world. Because those first shy dates and tentative kisses might havemade his head swirl with excitement, but that’s nothing compared to how hefeels now. The way that Blaine knows him so completely, even those insecuritiesthat his 16 year old self didn’t fully comprehend, the way that Blaine acceptsall of those things about him, makes him feel an incomparable kind of giddy; itbuzzes just underneath his skin, a euphoric rush each time Blaine catches hisgaze. He doesn’t love Blaine the same way he did when they first fell together,but he loves him more. He loves himcompletely.

Mr Anderson coughs. “Right,well, I’ll leave you boys to it. Just came to ask if you wanted me to get yousomething to eat, Blaine? I know this hospital food is beyond crappy and I’mheaded to the store anyway.”

“Ooh, yes, please. Just get whatever looks appetising andeasy to eat with plastic utensils. Oooh and d’you think I can get some pastriesand Nutella for breakfast tomorrow—Kurt, don’t even bother, I know granola ishealthier, but it’s not as delicious.” Kurt laughs, mouth snapping shut. “Anddad?”

“Yeah?”

“Thank you.”

It’s another moment before Kurt hears the door to Blaine’sroom shut and he looks away until he does, not wanting to intrude on theirmoment. Oh God, Blaine and his father are actually having a moment.

Kurt doesn’t know what to say after that, he feels sort oflike he does when he’s just woken up from a nap, and apparently Blaine’s in thesame boat because he remains quiet, too.

“Kurt?” Blaine says eventually, picking at the blanket onhis lap.

“Yeah, honey?”

Blaine glances up at him from underneath his long eyelashes. “What would you do if I was next to youright now?”

The shriek that Kurt makes can probably be heard down theentire hospital corridor, but he can’t bring himself to care—not when Blaine isgrinning like the adorable idiot on pain meds that he is.