Cut the Cord
Chapter 5

Blaine had always been a passionate person. Yes, Kurt knewhe was vulnerable and insecure, too; that much he had discovered when they’dbegun dating and Kurt had stopped flat-out idolising him. But nevertheless, gethim talking about why he enjoyed performing, or which were his favouriteBroadway shows, or why he loved his brother so much, even though sometimesCooper made him want to tear his hair out, or even what made him so angry withhis father all the time, and Blaine’s passion was undeniable. And that’s exactlywhy Kurt replaces his current apathy about everything so terrifying. Because hemight have seen Blaine cry and scream and shout, might know exactly what to doin those situations, but he’s never seen this total indifference to everythingand, as a consequence, has no clue how to act around him. The worst part isthat he’s certain Blaine knows this, that he can tell Kurt is struggling andit’s making the unrelenting tension that stretches between them even morepainful. And Kurt knows better than anyone that things that stretch eventuallybreak.

So, yes, he is terrified when he pulls up on the Anderson’sdrive the day after Blaine is released from hospital and walks up to the large,imposing front door. Mr Anderson opens it before Kurt can knock, and Kurt isgrateful for small mercies.

“How nice of you to visit, Kurt.” Mr Anderson says, standingback to let Kurt in, his stiff posture and forced smile suggesting the veryopposite of his words. “You can gostraight up—he, er, hasn’t been down for breakfast yet.”

Kurt nods and makes his way up the stairs, ignoring the factthat the clock in his car had said 1.37 when he’d arrived and that Blainetherefore had no intention of coming down for breakfast. When he reaches thetop, Kurt stops to look at the picture on the landing wall (probably one of MrsAnderson’s ‘priceless’ masterpieces passed down to her from her father) where agroup of shepherds wearing long, Biblical tunics seem to be squinting at him,their narrowed eyes conveying a sense of superiority despite their lowlyoccupation. He’s suddenly very aware that he has always hated that picture eventhough he has never taken the time to properly look at it before.

He wonders what Blaine is doing shut up in his room byhimself and various horrific scenarios, the majority containing excessiveblood, fill his head as he crosses the landing and knocks on Blaine’s door. Whenthere is no reply, he knocks again, this time receiving a muffled “I’m nothungry.”

Stealing himself, he opens the door slightly, wide enough topoke his head round and survey the room. Blaine is lying on his bed, still inpyjamas, face up on top of the covers, with his arms and legs spread out oneither side of him. He looks like a child making a snow angel.

Kurt moves a bit further into the room, taking in theuntouched water and toast on his nightstand and the overnight bag lying by thedoor, presumably abandoned when Blaine got in from the hospital yesterday. Kurtinternally winces at the discarded items of clothing flung on the carpet, buthe lets them be, unsure whether Blaine would want him to sort them out.

Blaine looks up, momentarily startled, and then he seesKurt. Sighing, he rolls over onto his front so that his face is pressed intothe duvet.

“Hi, Blaine,” Kurt says cautiously, standing in the middleof the room awkwardly. “I just came to see how you were today…” He trails off,aware how stupid he sounds.

Blaine rolls his head to the side long enough to mutter,“I’m doing wonderfully today, Kurt, a night in my own bed did the trick!” in abitingly sarcastic voice, before turning it back into the duvet.

For a moment Kurt is so taken aback by how Blaine-like theremark is, that he moves towards the bed, as if being physically pulled, andperches on the edge, carefully placing a hand on Blaine’s pyjama-clad back.He’s brought back to reality when Blaine flinches so badly that the whole bedshakes and quickly removes his hand, apologising without really knowing whathe’s sorry for.

I’m sorry I tried totouch you. I’m sorry I let you down. I’m sorry I wasn’t there when you neededme. I’m sorry you don’t trust me anymore.

“I brought the latest issue of Vogue with me. I mean, it’snot even officially published yet but Isabelle let me have a copy so I could beeven more ahead of trend than I already am—God, I love that woman—anyway, Iwanted to show you how divine the newMarc Jacobs collection is because, honestly, I was speechless when I first sawit. I think you’ll love it.” Kurt stops when Blaine doesn’t reply, his faceresolutely pushed into his duvet, his upper body shifting slightly as hebreathes.

“Or, um, or I could go and make you some of my renownedturkey sandwiches?” he tries again. “Your dad said you hadn’t had breakfast yetso I could do a sort of lunchtime brunch?”

Blaine remains silent, doesn’t so much as turn his head andsuddenly Kurt feels like the ceiling is lowering on them. As if someone ispushing it downwards, it gets steadily closer to the top of their heads and soon, if heremains sitting here like this, it’s going to descend far enough to engulf them,breathing swirling whiteness swirling around until they are dissolved intonothing. And even as Kurt feels the dizzy, rapid breaths of a panic attackcoming on, he knows he can’t let the ceiling consume them. He just can’t.

He gets up too fast, the room slightly out of focus, andalmost trips over Blaine’s discarded jeans as he walks to the door. He doesn’teven notice whether he closes it behind him or not, he only knows he needs toget away from the foggy confines of the ceiling.

As he crosses the landing, the disparaging eyes of theshepherds follow him, wondering why he fears whiteness so much when, to them,it is merely a deliverer from evil. Suddenly, Kurt feels a profound sympathyfor the shepherds.