Glee 1. A Small Bright Light

**A/N- hey, this is a one shot I wrote in response to being in a crappy mood and having read a fic with similar circumstances that I didn't think portrayed the event correctly. I want to tell you before you read it that I'm not a fan of dialogue, and that this story had a lot of deep meaning with **_**all**_** the characters, you just have to pay attention to their expressions and reactions rather than their words. In a situation like this, anything outside the person who attempted suicides own head is like an intrusion, like its coming from another world, like an echo. I tried to portray that here. **

**I do not own glee. **

He was dancing on voices, twirling on clouds of whispers. The whispers came so softly, and there were so many. It seemed like forever that he twirled in a haze of unconsciousness listening to the steady murmuring, feeling the thick mist of white. Then, the murmurs became voices, the fog becoming brighter. Though the voices remained inscrutable, he recognized the light as a rectangular… florescent light... just as soon as Kurt comes to that conclusion the voices became recognizable.

"Kurt!"

"Oh my god, Kurt!" there was a loud plunking noise.

Kurt opened his eyes wearily, taking in his surroundings. The room he was in had an eerie green glow about it. Light from the few florescent lights loomed over the furniture while it buzzed and flickered. The first thing he saw was Finn standing in the door frame with a look of shock on his face that was staring at Kurt. Next to him was carol with her hand over her heart, tears falling down her face. Only until after he took in their appearance did he notice someone holding his hand. He looked down to find his father looking as if he had suffered a hundred years of misery. Tear tracks stained his face, but he was not crying. He stared at Kurt with such love, and such misery it was quite literally scary for Kurt. His father was holding his hand firmly, and as Kurt looked down to the hand he was holding he noticed the immensely thick bandages that cover his left wrist and could feel the bandages on the other arm. Only then did Kurt remember why he was sitting an unfamiliar room, a hospital room.

A wave of despair flooded Kurt's lungs, pounding through his heart. It hadn't worked. He remembered well sitting in his room by the window, careful not to sit near anything that was stainable. His father didn't need to have to clean up stained cloths and furniture. Kurt remembered thinking about the bullies, about their hateful words. He thought about loneliness, about self hatred. He thought about how much he wanted to be just like everyone else. Kurt remembered putting the blade to his left wrist and feeling pain such he had never experienced. He remembered using the last bit of energy in him to do the same thing to his right arm, sinking into darkness before he even had time to drop the blade. And then he was gone, then he sunk into the blissful oblivion of snowy mist and whispering voices.

Carol gave a loud sniff and the florescent light above him gave a particularly obnoxious buzz and flicker which brought Kurt back to his senses. He looked at her, noticing Finn was still was staring at Kurt with his mouth open in what looked like a mixture of a silent scream and complete shock.

"It's ok Kurt, everything will be ok."

His father's voice washed over him. Those words triggered something inside of him, a feeling of deep loss, and of deep regret. His father's voice was what made Kurt burst into uncontrollable tears. Before he knew it he was curling in on himself, crying harder than he had ever cried in his life, hardly aware of carol and Finn. Kurt knew if he would have succeeded in killing himself it would have ruined his father, but Kurt just couldn't stand living in a world that told him he was a freak, a world that told him he was a pervert who lived a "chosen lifestyle." Kurt had tried his whole life to be himself because other than his father, Kurt himself was the only person he had. Kurt was tired. He was exhausted, and he just wanted it all to go away. He didn't believe in god, so when he put the blades to his wrists he didn't know where he would go, or even if he would just stop existing, but Kurt did not care. At that moment, in that instant, anywhere was better that his own mind that felt like padded walls that only drove him further into insanity. Anywhere was better than the world of ridicule and humiliation, a world where Kurt sat in bed every night desperately asking himself why he had to be this way, why he had to be gay.

Very slowly, Kurt's sobs died away, even more slowly did the tears cease to fall. Kurt lay in his hospital bed with an audience of loved ones, feeling weak and ill, cowardly and useless. Carol hand moved to stand above Burt who sat holding Kurt's hand firmly, fresh tears cascading down his pale cheeks. Fin remained in the doorway, facial expression identical to the one he had worn minutes ago, minutes that felt like hours to Kurt. For a handful of uncountable, long minutes, they all remained where they were, all sucked into the aura of sadness and pain.

Burt used his vacant hand to wipe hair off of his son's face, his precious boy looking like a Brocken doll. "We are going to get through this kiddo, you hear me? And we will be alright, you will be okay, Kurt." Kurt didn't respond, but gave a weak sob and seemed to sink further down into the thin mattress.

Carol seemed to wake up out of a daydream at that moment and went down to kiss Burt's cheek and whisper softly into Burt's ear "well be outside." With that she walked towards the door. When she reached fin, he moved for the first time. He finally took his eyes off Kurt without changing his expression of shock and looked at his mother. "Come on." She whispered, and with one final look at Kurt, Finn left the room with stony legs, still with his face frozen in that same expression.

"Why Kurt? God, Kurt why?" Burt whimpered with a breaking voice.

Kurt didn't know what to say, but absentmindedly replied with the first thing he thought of.

"I was tired."

Burt stared at Kurt for a minute, trying to understand what had happened, what had Brocken his boy, his son. "Were going to be okay, Kurt." Burt said, seeming to be reassuring himself just as much as Kurt. He squeezed Kurt's warm hand like a life line.

At that moment the door slammed open with startling momentum. Blaine stood in the door way looking like he had just run a thousand miles. His hair was on end, his cloths wrinkled and lopsided. Blaine looked out of breathe and sweaty. The greenish glow was flickering on him giving Blaine the frantic look of a mad man. At the site of Kurt alive and open-eyed, Blaine sunk to the floor, Kurt catching a glimpse of his face scrunching up in sobbing pain.

"God damn it, Kurt!" he yelled. Not loudly, but there was no doubt it was a yell.

Kurt's mouth fell open in shock, the gesture not reaching his eyes, while Burt seemed almost unperturbed by this loud interruption. Kurt had not thought of Blaine while he sat by the window of his bedroom, razor in hand. He had thought of his father, of his mother, of those monstrous bullies, but never did he think once of the boy who sat sobbing on his hospital room floor. Blaine, who helped him through unsuccessful self acceptance. Blaine, who taught him of courage, and of standing up for yourself. Blaine, who he would have never expected to be disturbed for more than a few seconds at the news of Kurt's suicide, or attempted suicide.

It was at that moment that Kurt realized what he had done. Though none of his pain had subsided, none of his troubles lessened, Kurt finally realized that his attempted suicide had sent those that he loved into disarray. Finn had looked like he had just witnessed a murder, while his father had cried the first publicly shed tear since the death of Kurt's mother. Carol had been weeping while the boy Kurt had felt he never had a chance with, the boy who had always seemed well kempt and put together, lay still on the floor sobbing.

Kurt spent the next few hours under the greenish hue of the buzzing, flickering lights, wallowing in a dark pit of self hatred for what he had done, and even worse, for still wishing he had succeeded. He watched as Blaine gathered himself enough to get up and sit in a chair by Kurt's right side, staring at the wall opposite as if it was a disgusting thing Blaine had found on the sole of his shoe. Kurt wallowed still as carol came in looking exhausted and care-worn, straightening Kurt's sheets and wiping his forehead with a wet washcloth. He sat in self hatred as he watched Finn, who had obviously been crying, walk in looking remarkably similar to that time he lost "faith" in god, except this time there was much more misery and anger. After countless visits from nurses speaking words Kurt didn't listen to, After a million I love you's and I love you too's, even more everything will be ok's and well get through this's, carol and Finn left to go back to the home they, Burt and Kurt shared. Burt had refused point blank to leave his son alone in a hospital bed.

A few seconds after carol and Finn left, Burt looked up and Blaine who was still staring at the wall angrily.

"Don't you have to get home, kid?" Burt said, not impolitely, but there was no doubt Burt was implying something.

Blaine slowly looked at Burt, and then even more slowly seemed to return to the world outside his head. Kurt was looking at his father, still floating in an icy sea of despair, when Blaine spoke.

"Sir...sir I know- I know I have little right to ask this, bu- but would you mind if I spoke to Kurt alone? I will completely understand if you say no but I really want to talk to him."

Kurt had moved his cloudy gaze to Blaine when the boy had started talking, and by the time he had stopped Kurt's face was wide eyed with shock again. Why would Blaine want to talk to him alone? Only part of him was worrying, the rest of him still remained in his cloud of self hatred for still wanting to be dead, for wanting that even though he knew now the pain it caused.

Burt looked at Blaine with piercing eyes. He seemed to be reading the boy like an extremely fine-printed book. After a minute of intense glaring Burt looked at Kurt.

"Okay, but just a few minutes. I'm just going to go down to the cafeteria and force myself to eat something. Kurt, I love you kiddo, remember that." Burt squeezed Kurt's hand and looked at his son with such love and misery that Kurt fell even deeper into the darkness for putting that look in his father's eyes. Burt, incredibly reluctantly, removed his hand from Kurt's. He got up and walked to the door, giving Kurt one more protective look before leaving the room.

Almost immediately Blaine took Kurt's hand firmly in his. They sat in silence for a few seconds, looking at each other. Blaine's eyes fell to the bandages on the wrist of the hand he held, and his face became one of incredible pain. He looked up at Kurt with teary eyes looking a mixture of protectiveness, anger, and determination.

"Kurt, do you have any idea, _any idea_ what it was like when I got a call from carol telling me you had tried to kill yourself. _I thought you were dead!_ You would have been. Please Kurt, please tell me why you would do this. You are the most amazing person I have ever met, and even the concept of you thinking it would be a good idea to leave this world is completely and utterly incomprehensible to me!" Blaine's voice had gained volume as he went on and Kurt was completely taken aback by his words.

Kurt, unable to think due to the cloudy haze of despair, repeated the words he had muttered to his father.

"I was tired."

"Tired?" Blaine said looking at Kurt with his sad eyes and shaking his head. "I know Kurt; I know that feeling, believe me. But I was there for you Kurt, I still am! And your father loves you and I love you and carol loves you and Finn loves you, and hell! I've become so damn in love with you these past few months I'm almost going out of my head! I have made it my priority to make you happy, and then I get a call making me think for 2 fucking unbearable hours that you were dead! You, Kurt Hummel, the most fantastic person to walk this planet, dead. Please Kurt, life, Burt, _I_ need you, we need you alive, _you_ need you alive!"

It took Kurt a while to process these words. Kurt knew he had hurt Burt far more than he hurt Blaine, but Kurt still couldn't think how he could have sat with a blade to his wrist without thinking of Blaine. He remembered that not only a day ago Blaine's confession of love would have brought him deep happiness. At first Kurt didn't think the current pronouncement of love from Blaine had brought him any emotion at all, until he felt a strange coiling sensation in his stomach. It took Kurt good minute to realize it was happiness, and love. The fact that Kurt could still feel such things sent Kurt right over the edge, and he was crying just as hard as earlier, sobbing into his clammy hands and bandaged wrists.

As Blaine's arms surrounded him and as lips touched Kurt's pale cheek, Kurt seemed to lift out of his pit of darkness and despair. In that moment of sobbing and Blaine's loving arms, Kurt left his small bubble of self hatred, his eerie world of weeping and regret. For the first time in a long time, Kurt saw a small shimmering light of hope. It wasn't much, but it was everything to Kurt. Blaine kissed Kurt's cheek yet again and they lay together intertwined, Brocken, but healing.

**A/N- Thank you so much for reading. I do hope you liked it, but even more I hope you understood Finn, Burt and Blaine's reactions, and I really hope you got the sense I tried to portray that everything outside Kurt's own head was more of an echo than actually being. Please review, and check out my other story "A series of life changing events." It is much more cheerful. **


	2. the absense of light

**A/N- hey, I know this was supposed to be a one-shot but I got too caught up in fin and Blaine's reactions. I wanted to show why each of them acted the way they did and how something so tragic would affect them. This is the last chapter though and I do hope you like it. Please review and all that.**

**I do not own glee.**

The night previous.

Finn heard a small musical tapping on his door, recognizing it immediately as Kurt's signature knock. Finn looked to the clock on his bedside table and noiselessly chuckled to himself. Every night at 8:30 Kurt would bring him warm milk and try and talk to him. It made Finn feel a twinge of shame to admit it to himself, but when Kurt had first started doing this he found it rather annoying. As the weeks went by however, Finn had grown to like the small talks with Kurt and trying to find ways to look like he was drinking the milk when he actually wasn't.

"Come in!" Finn yelled with a mouth full of cheetos. Kurt came in dressed as usual in his designer pajamas and carrying the small glass of warm milk. Finn thought Kurt looked kind of sad. _But Kurt had so much on his plate, who wouldn't be sad? _Thought Finn to himself. Kurt sat down on Finns desk chair and gave him a weak smile.

"Hey dude, what's up?" Finn said, again with a mouth full of cheetos.

Kurt eyed Finns mouth wearily, then seemed to find the _talking with your mouth full_ moment highly amusing and chuckled. Highly un-Kurt like. "I actually wanted to talk to you, Finn." Finn sat up on his bed facing Kurt lazily. "Well, sorry if I'm being too forward but, well you have been a really awesome brother to me Finn and I really do appreciate it…" Kurt seemed to be thinking hard for a few seconds before he reached in his pajama pants pocket and pulled out a pocket watch. "This was a gift from my mom and dad before she passed away, I know this seems weird but, I just want you to have it."

Kurt handed the pocket watch to Finn who looked extremely confused. "But dude, what would I do with a pocket watch?"

Kurt gave another weak smile. "Just have it, that's all. You don't have to use it, just, just have it." Kurt said fondly. Finn looked up at Kurt and he was shocked to see the boy looked on the verge of tears. Kurt got up immediately and walked to the door. Kurt looked at Finn for a long moment and then with a strange finality said "goodnight, Finn." And walked out of the room, shutting the door gently.

Finn may not have been the smartest dude out there, but he sure wasn't stupid, and Finn knew something was up with Kurt. Finn lay on his bed wondering what it was, his mind easily wandering back to cheetos and blown up zombies.

It was an interesting night for Burt Hummel, who sat next to his wife carol talking about his day. Burt had to admit he was worried about Kurt. He told his wife about how Kurt had come to him earlier after dinner to talk to him. They talked about his childhood and about his mother. They talked about good memories and bad. Burt didn't mind talking to his son about his life, in fact he enjoyed the feeling it gave him that him and Kurt lived through life together and were there for each other, but still it was very un-like Kurt. He had asked Burt a lot of strange questions. Kurt had asked his father if he had truly made it through his mother dying, if Burt always accepted him for who he was, and asked an extremely deep question on what Burt thought about life. Kurt had seemed to cling onto Burt's every word, as if expecting him to say something in particular.

The only thing that worried Burt more than the interesting conversation was the way it had ended. Kurt had seemed extremely reluctant to let Burt go to bed, and when Burt did manage to get up and head towards the stairs, Kurt had brought his father into a tight hug and told Burt that he loved him. After that Kurt had turned right around trying to hide tears, and gotten out the milk to warm up for Finn like he did every night.

"Burt honey, you seem extremely worried. I've always believed parents have an instinct when it comes to their children's well being, so I think you should go check on Kurt. I'm worried too, plus you'll never get to sleep in this state."

Carols words were too true too deny, so Burt kissed her on the cheek and went to go check on his son.

Finn sat in his room sipping at his steadily colder warm milk, reading some stupid play by Shakespeare about magic. He was only half reading the book, the other half of his mind trying to find an excuse to stop reading.

A voice from next door yelled "Kurt!" Finn, quite oblivious to the frantic tone of Burt's voice, thought that was a decent reason to stop reading and put the book down to ease drop. The same voice yelled again. "Carol get over here now!" Finn couldn't mistake the urgent tone in Burt's voice this time, and at the fast footsteps that indicated his mother, Finn got up to go see what was going on. He was half way to his door when carol screamed.

Finn lunged at the door and the second he had turned the door handle Carol yelled "Finn stay where you are! Stay in your room! Burt I'm calling 911 now." His mother's voice was cracking and interrupted by sobs.

911? Why did they need to call 911? Was there a burglar? It didn't sound like a burglar, and the sounds were coming from Kurt's room, not anywhere a burglar could have gotten in. was Kurt hurt? Finn couldn't imagine why carol would _scream_ if Kurt was hurt. Finn was getting extremely worried now and almost pelted his mother with questions when she came through the door looking like she had just been tortured.

"What the hell is going on?" Finn yelled franticly.

"Finn, baby…uhm sit down." Carol said softly, still with a look of great pain, tears streaming down her face. After Finn had sat down she gathered herself up. "Finn, honey its Kurt…he-he, he's hurt himself. He-"

Finn cut her off, starting to panic. "What do you mean hurt himself?"

"Baby Kurt has" she gasped loudly, "He tried to kill himself." Carol seemed about to crumple, while Finn sat rooted to his bed, refusing to believe what he had heard.

"Tried…" Finn whispered in a breaking voice.

"Yes, baby, tried, he's still breathing but, but we don't, we don't" she didn't seem able to go on and just put her face in her hands, sobbing.

Finn couldn't move, he couldn't think. Was Kurt going to die? Kurt, diva Kurt, die? He refused to believe it, so instead he just sat without a thought, without feeling, only a lingering presence of worry in his stomach to keep him aware he was even alive himself.

Carol ran out of the room to let the paramedics in, Finn heard them come upstairs to Kurt's room, head them head outside again. Finn still sat unmoving, unfeeling. Carol came in and said something about getting in the car, so Finn got up to do just that. As he reached his door he realized he had no idea what he would see when he passed Kurt's room.

Finn stepped near the staircase that led downstairs, trying to see into Kurt's room. The sight that met him made Finn nearly burst into tears himself, now understanding his mothers scream. Blood, puddles of blood streaming from near the window, staining the wooden floor and soaking the edges of a carped a few feet away from the puddles. Finn was about to be sick when he saw his mother by Kurt's bed, punching buttons on Kurt's phone. Finn heard rather than felt himself run down the stairs and get in the car. He sat there, thinking hard.

The longer Finn thought, the angrier he got. It was the bullies fault. It was their fault that Kurt might die. What kind of world would make a person like Kurt, innocent, moral Kurt, want to kill themselves. Finn had watched Kurt struggle through so much pain, but he had always though Kurt was strong enough to handle it. He remembered earlier that night when Kurt had come into his room and given him the pocket watch. Finn had known something was up, he had seen Kurt, possibly minutes before he had hurt himself, and he had done absolutely nothing. Finn had thought about cheetos and zombies, and he hated himself for it. how could the world still exist, how could people still walk and talk and eat like everything was normal, how could the world still go on when an innocent boy like Kurt was in so much pain he tried to take his own life?

Finn had a furious desire to break something, but instead grabbed his hair and pulled, feeling insane. This wasn't the world he thought he lived in, a world where good people are treated good and bad people are treated badly. Finn had known, of course, that it wasn't always like that, but wasn't there some worldly justice? Justice that allowed the good to get some type of compensation for their pain? Everything Finn had believed was crashing down around him. How could there be an eternal justice when Kurt could be dead and the evil people who made it happen stay healthy and well? Where was justice when a boy who was loving and caring was humiliated every day to the point of suicide, just because he was something those evil people couldn't understand?

Finn was shocked out of his insane haze of thought when the car he was sitting in parked inside the hospital parking lot. He hadn't even noticed carol enter the car, hadn't noticed her driving, and hadn't noticed he was moving.

When Finn finally saw Kurt, it was like he was looking into the eyes of injustice. He was seeing proof that the world was an unfair place where the good die young and the evil prosper. Finn just stared at Kurt who looked Brocken and shriveled. If he hadn't seen the chest rising and falling, he would have thought the boy was dead, he was so pale. Finn had always heard of suicides, but he never associated them with people like Kurt. Suicidal people were supposed to be older and mentally ill, not young and innocent. It was like watching those commercials about the abused animals. You look at them and you see a being that never did anything to deserve pain, put got it in such a quantity they became fragile and Brocken. But Kurt was Finns brother, his friend, the guy who had taught Finn more about being a man than anyone else, and too see Kurt in such pain took all the life out of him. Kurt never deserved to hate himself, never deserved to hate his life. Where was justice?

Blaine sat at his desk working on a homework assignment. He would write a few sentences then wander off into his own though, write a few more sentences then wander off again. As he would wander off he would think of what other homework he had to do, and the warbler party he had to plan for the weekend, but most of all he thought of Kurt. Blaine wondered when he would next see him; they hadn't hung out in a little more than a week and it had made Blaine thoroughly frustrated. He was always so worried about this boy he had met a few months ago. Blaine worried if Kurt was happy, worried that the bullies were getting too much, and worried that Kurt would never have feelings for him. The latter was his biggest concern, Blaine knew he had reason to believe Kurt liked him back, but the doubt was enough to keep Blaine from taking any action. Blaine didn't think he could stand looking Kurt at a friend; it would be like losing air, even if that air was already so rare in the first place.

Blaine felt his phone buzzing and when he saw who it was his heart inflated like a helium balloon. It was Kurt. He hoped they would plan to hang out this weekend; Blaine was dying to see him. He opened his phone.

"Kurt hey!" Blaine said enthusiastically.

"No, no Blaine this is carol." A sorrowful voice said from the other end. Blaine immediately became worried. "Blaine its Kurt, I know you're not family but he always talks about you and I thought you should know, it seems you really care for him. Blaine…" carol gave a loud gasp; it sounded like she was holding back sobs. "Kurt has tried to kill himself, we- we-we don't know if he'll make it. He's going to the local lima hospital if you want to come."

"Okay." Blaine said dumbly. He dropped his phone and it slammed shut as it hit the floor. Blaine sat there for what seemed like an hour trying to process what he has heard.

_They didn't know if he would make it._ Did that mean Kurt could die? Kurt might be dead? But Kurt couldn't die… he was too alive, invincible. The word dead seemed like a meaningless word, almost equivalent to asleep, so Blaine tried to figure out what the word _dead_ meant. Dead meant Kurt would never talk again, never walk again. It meant Blaine would never see Kurt smile again, never feel his warm hand in his own. It meant those beautiful blue eyes would never open again, never gaze into Blaine's with love and affection. It meant Kurt would never feel the breeze of wind on his cheeks or the feeling of another's touch again. Just minutes ago Blaine was worrying about whether or not Kurt had feelings for him, thinking about something as mundane as a warbler's party. Those things felt like ants compared to the universe right now, the universe that was Kurt's death.

Each one of these thoughts felt like daggers to Blaine's stomach, incensing him to the point he was almost certain Kurt was dead. He knew however he wouldn't truly believe it for himself till he saw it with his own eyes. Blaine stood up, feeling oddly light. He ran downstairs and to his car without a backward glance. It was extremely strange to Blaine how he could move and drive without actually feeling like he was in his body. He felt like someone else was controlling motor functions while he lay in misery, curled up inside his own head. Everything that didn't involve getting to Kurt was ignored. Fixing his hair after running fingers through it was useless. Straightening his clothes and whipping his eyes felt like useless chores.

The two hour drive to Lima went by in what seemed like 5, and he felt like a dying man searching for bread as he made his way through front desks, nurses, and angry visitors. When he finally got to the ER his only thought was _find Kurt, he can't be dead, Kurt is not dead. _Blaine hardly noticed as he passed carol who sat weeping with Finn who looked pale and shocked, tears cascading down his face, resting his head on her lap. When he reached the door his only wish, his only thought was too see what was behind the door, he heavily slammed the door open and stood in the doorframe of an eerie hospital room with flickering florescent lights.

There sat Kurt, looking him in the eyes. Blue sad eyes that were alive, Kurt was alive. Kurt was alive and that was all that mattered in the entire world, the only thing that was even happening in the world that seemed to go no further than this hospital room.

"God damn it, Kurt!" he heard himself yell as Blaine felt himself crumple.

Blaine came to the conclusion that each second Kurt was alive, each second he was alive was like a precious jewel. For 2 long hours Blaine thought Kurt was dead, and in those 2 hours he had grown years older, years wiser. Kurt was alive, and Blaine was never going to take his life, or the boy he loves life for granted any longer.

**A/N- thank you so much for reading, please review and check out my other story, "A series of life changing events."**


	3. A Reappearance Of Light

**A/N- so this was supposed to be a one-shot, but now it has become a full on story. I'm not sure how long it will be, but I can guarantee one more chapter with the first glee club meeting after Kurt gets out and more development with Blaine and Finn. I really dislike the fact I'm enjoy writing something so depressing, but it helps vent some of the anger I've been feeling lately. Sorry for any mistakes in grammar or spelling, I do read through them a couple times but I always end up missing a few. I hope you like it, and thank you a million times for reading. **

**I do not own glee. **

Kurt stayed in the hospital for 3 days. The hospital needed time to fill him up with blood since he had lost an almost deadly amount during the ten minutes he had sat bleeding in his room. Therapists needed time to ask him questions without actually listening to the answers. Doctors needed time to look at him for 5 seconds and write pages worth of notes. Some nurses made it a point to glare at Kurt for being selfish and week, while others made it a point to smile at him, hoping their small ounce of charity would help a lost soul. His father had stayed with him every night, leaving only for food or the bathroom.

Burt was so scared to bring Kurt home it was driving him mad. He couldn't fallow Kurt to the bathroom or school; he couldn't be next to Kurt every second to make sure his precious son wouldn't try yet again to take his life. Burt loved his son so much he couldn't imagine what a world without Kurt would be like. He remembered catching a glimpse of what that would feel like the night he found Kurt covered in blood. For a good minute Burt had thought his son actually was dead. That minute had been the worst time of his life, far surpassing the death of his wife Elisabeth. The thing Burt wanted more than anything in the entire world was for his son to be happy; to find Kurt hated his life so much he would rather die than live it was like daggers to Burt's heart.

Finn and Blaine were by Kurt's side as often as possible. Finn seemed to have taken the role of body guard, taking up the temporary duty of protecting Kurt from the bitchy glares of nurses and dirty cups that probably didn't carry deadly diseases, but Finn seemed determined to never let Kurt get hurt ever again. He had even eyed Blaine suspiciously every now and then as if Blaine was only sitting there to break Kurt's heart for the fun of it.

Blaine was a comfort for Kurt, and they had seemed to reach a strange understanding. Blaine knew that Kurt was incapable of concentrating on such mundane things as _relationships _and _attraction._ Blaine felt the exact same way; he could not even imagine how such things were at the height of his _things to think about list_ only a few days ago. The only thing important now was to make sure Kurt knew he was not alone.

Conversations with Kurt for both Blaine and Finn were incredibly awkward in a painfully sad way. Kurt never said much, responding only with 2 or 3 words and usually drifting off into his own little world. They had found him crying silently, even if one of them was next to him, countess times. Blaine was always holding Kurt's hand in a hope that physical contact would let Kurt take a part of Blaine into his daydreams, taking away any loneliness that might creep up in them.

Kurt wasn't completely oblivious to the affection his loved ones were showing him. There was something nice hidden in holding hands with Blaine that Kurt cherished, in fact one of the times Blaine had seen him cry was because Blaine had let go of his hand. Kurt had found himself dreading go home. His eerie hospital room felt like a sort of limbo between two worlds. The world he had left had been a world of secrets and pain, silent sobs and locked doors. Kurt knew closed doors would no longer be an option, he wouldn't be surprised if he came home to find his room searched for anything that had the potential for danger, and in the new world everyone will know his secrets. He wasn't looking forward to entering this new word, and wanted to stay in his little room of limbo where there was no need to move or to talk.

It felt strange for Kurt to see his family. He had been so sure that those special moments he had planned would be the last time he would see them that every second with them felt like an extra moment, added time to the already used up limit. Kurt was scared to go back to school were the bullies prowled waiting for their special victim. Sometimes Kurt though the news of his attempted suicide might tame them down a bit. Death was such an extreme, such a powerful human fear, and such an incomprehensible unknown that maybe they would be a bit frightened of Kurt because he had felt deaths warm embrace.

Then there was always the option of trying again with more energy to succeed. It scared Kurt a little that the thought of trying to kill himself yet again was still welcome. Sometimes he found himself brainstorming sure fire ways to get it done efficiently, and preferably less painful. He didn't, of course, tell anyone else this. Kurt went along with everyone saying things would get better, smiled faintly when he heard people say he would get through this for the ten thousandth time.

Over the three days he spent in the hospital Kurt had become strangely dependent on holding hands with Blaine. It seemed the world became even worse when Blaine wasn't there, but when they were holding hands, that little slither of hope would make its way into Kurt's view.

On the second night of Kurt's stay Burt had grudgingly allowed Blaine to stay the night with him and Kurt in the hospital room. Blaine had his hand in Kurt's as usual, hoping this small gesture would let Kurt take Blaine with him into his dreams. As Kurt lay sleeping Blaine thought Kurt wouldn't mind if he let go of their hands for a minute or two so he could go use the bathroom. He had just let go of Kurt's hand and headed towards the door when he heard Kurt whimpering.

"Blnnn, blainee." Kurt was whimpering sleepily while using the hand usually held by Blaine to search around the covers for what Blaine guessed was his hand.

Burt looked at Blaine with wide eyes and then looked back down at his son.

"Kurt?" Blaine asked out loud. Kurt just kept whimpering and searching for his hand, his movement becoming more desperate. He looked like he might rip one of the stitches on his wrist. Blaine guessed Kurt was still asleep, but even still he couldn't stand seeing Kurt call out to him like that and not do anything about it. He quickly went over to Kurt's bed side and put his hand near Kurt's so he could find it. When Kurt's sleepy hand slapped down on Blaine's, the hand grabbed it tightly as if afraid it might scuttle away, and went back to sleeping quietly, a single tear falling down the pale cheek.

Blaine smiled to himself, hoping this was some sign Kurt was clinging on to something in the outside world. He looked up at Burt to find him looking and Blaine with a look of mixed suspicion and worry.

"Blaine," Burt whispered, trying not to wake Kurt, "I don't know what that meant, but if you plan on letting Kurt get attached to you when he's in this state, you better know what you're signing up for. The last thing Kurt needs right now is to get attached to someone and then have them walk out on him, so if there's even the faintest chance you won't be able to handle this, you need to leave now before Kurt gets his hopes too high." his voice was stern and protective, and Blaine knew Burt would not stand by and watch his son get hurt.

Blaine didn't reply at first. He looked down at Kurt and tried to think about what Burt had said. At the moment Blaine felt like leaving Kurt would be like attempting to jump off the planet, but Blaine knew that things changed over time. People changed, he changed. Would Kurt's vulnerability and pain become more of an annoyance to Blaine over time? He didn't think so, at the moment all he wanted to do in the world was help Kurt get better, but emotions and intentions changed. Blaine might get impatient or frustrated. Then he thought of Kurt, poor Kurt who never deserved any of the pain he had faced in his life, would Blaine be able to add to that load? How selfish could he be to put his own frustration above Kurt's pain? He concluded that times might get hard, and people may change, but he loved Kurt and would never do anything to hurt him, no matter what.

After a couple minutes Blaine looked back up at Burt to whisper as softly as possible, "Mr. Hummel I love your son, and I know times will get harder and things will change, but I would never, ever do anything to hurt him, especially when he's hurting so badly in the first place."

Burt processed these words. The kid loved his son. He wondered if that was really true. "Do I have your word, boy?"

"Yes, sir."

Burt seemed to be looking at Blaine skeptically, and behind those stern eyes Blaine could see pain beyond anything he had ever seen or experienced. After a few seconds Burt gave a curt nod, and looked back at his son, who was silently sleeping, looking like a wounded angel.

A few members of the glee club stopped by to see him, though they were quite unaware of why Kurt was in the hospital, Kurt keeping his arms under the covers at all times. Thought Mercedes, Santana, Brittany, puck, and Rachel had all asked relentlessly why he was there, he had only told them no one had beaten him up and to keep their noses out of it. Even though they didn't know the exact reason for his hospitalization, they couldn't mistake the sorrow in Kurt's eyes and the effort it took him to socialize. Finn had looked like he was going to punch puck when he cracked a particularly nasty gay joke, glaring at Santana when she burst out laughing, looking like he might even be thinking about punching her too. Finn had yelled for a good 5 minutes at them about how they were ignorant and shouldn't even think about making fun of Kurt when he was in this state. When it looked like Finn was about to let out Kurt's secret in a haze of fury, Kurt had to yell out his name to shut him up. After that Finn had told everyone to get out, and even eyed Blaine evilly when he had stayed. Kurt knew that the news of his attempted suicide would reach the glee clubs ears eventually, and he was not looking forward to seeing their faces when he was forced to go back to school.

By the time the doctors decided Kurt was ready to go home, Finn and Burt had packed up all the small things around the room, like Kurt's Broadway collection carol had brought that lay untouched and a couple flowers from random members of glee club who came to visit him, Kurt was feeling like everything was about to turn worse than it was before he had even held a razor to his wrists. As he walked out of the hospital with Burt's hand on one shoulder and Blaine's hand intertwined with his on the other side, the only thing that kept kurt walking was the small slither of hope that had blossomed as Blaine held his hand.

**A/N- thank you so much for reading, please stick around for the next chapter, which may or may not be the last, I have no idea. Please please review; I love requests for art and for my other story "a series of life changing events." **


	4. The Shadows Of Memories

A/N- I used the word inconceivable in here and I couldn't help feeling Inigo Montoya was going to come up behind me and tell me "I do not think it means what you think it means." Anyone who understood that reference is amazing. I also said you cannot love another until you love yourself. I think that's something everyone should remember because it is quite true, and if you have ever been to rehab before you've probably had it shoved down your throat like I did, and is even one of the overall themes of this story. Thank you so much for reading and please review! I do not own glee.

Kurt felt like a ghost pulling into the driveway of his home. Blaine had left to get a shower and clothes at his house, so Kurt and Burt had driven home alone in a dingy old pickup truck. He walked up to the front door, absentmindedly stroking the bandages over the gash in his left arm with his right hand thumb. Finn and carol were waiting inside, treating him like a guest in their home. Finn took his coat and carol straightened his simple white button up shirt. Kurt took a deep breath feeling irritable; he didn't like having people all around him, none the less people who were so close and fussy.

"Can I go up to my room?" Kurt said, a little more venom in his voice than he had originally intended. Burt, carol, and Finn looked at him astonished. It was like they expected him to stay in their line of vision forever. "I'm not going to try anything; I just need time to think." Burt looked like Kurt had just asked if he could try slicing his arm open again, Finn looked on the verge of tears, as if this was the last time he was seeing Kurt, while carol was looking incredibly care worn. Kurt raised his eyebrows lazily, not bothering to fake a smile.

"okay." Said Burt looking like he was trying to hide the terror in his eyes. "But Kurt please keep the door open." It was strange hearing his father say please rather than making it a command.

Kurt turned on his heels and made his way slowly up the stairs. He felt extremely ghost like, a feeling that reminded him of a time in his childhood. The night after his mother's funeral while Burt was making dinner, Kurt had sneaked into his mother and fathers, now just fathers, bedroom. It had been strange, like walking inside a dream, live visiting a ghost. Kurt had that feeling once again as he walked up to his room. Half of him expected to see his own dead body lying by the window, drenched in blood. But as Kurt slowly opened his bedroom door and looked inside, he saw there was no dead body, or even a trace of blood. He saw one of his rugs was missing, guessing it must have gotten stained red. Kurt's room looked neat and tidy as always, the only trace that something had changed being the absent white rug and the overly clean floor by the window. Though little seemed to have changed, Kurt still had that feeling he had felt when walking into his dead mother's room. He thought this must be what it felt like to visit a childhood home one had long since left behind. Like visiting a memory.

Kurt sat tentatively on the corner of his bed, staring at the chair by the window. He wondered if this was what it felt like to be a ghost, to feel that everything around you is made of memory rather than matter. As he stared at the chair, he remembered that feeling of sinking into oblivion. Kurt had felt death, had brushed its warm fingertips and danced on voices of unknown souls. Maybe it was in his head, or maybe those voices really were murmurs from the lips of those who had died. Kurt wanted to hear them again, wanted to know what they had said. He moved his gaze to his left desk drawer.

Kurt got up and sat down at his desk, feeling afraid. He reached slowly into the desk drawer, like recovering a long lost prized possession, and took out a small candle. Carefully, feeling like he was handling a fragile ornament, Kurt turned the candle upside down and removed the bottom that he had cut out days before, revealing the hallowed out center. Kurt had made this small secret hiding place a few days before his suicide attempt, it was obviously homemade by the jagged edges of the inside where Kurt had used a knife to hallow out the candle. Carefully stuffed inside that little hiding place were 2 small razor blades, looking, like everything else, ghostly. Kurt carefully picked up the razor and looked at it. He thought of all the possibilities this small piece of metal contained. A small patch of skin was visible on Kurt's left wrist, right under his hand. He carefully took the blade and pressed it against his skin. It did not break the skin, he would have to move the razor for that to happen, but it did sting, he could feel the blade so close to penetrating his wrist, but then withdrew it. The path of skin now had a thin indent splayed across it. It was strange for Kurt how pain felt oddly sweet. Though it didn't hurt any bit less than if he were someone else, and though it was still unpleasant, it had a nice taste to it, sending small jolts of giddiness to his stomach. It was comparable to sucking on a lemon, though sour and unpleasant; there was that sweet taste behind the sour. Kurt lowered the blade back to his skin again, wanting to feel that jolt of giddiness in his stomach, and was just about to move the blade slightly to draw blood when Blaine came running into the room.

"Kurt!" he yelled, forcing the blade out of Kurt's hand and staring at him in terror.

Kurt had no idea how he not heard Blaine coming up the stairs. Was he so involved in that moment with his razor that his mind didn't process such crucial sounds? He stared at Blaine who now had tears falling slowly down his cheeks and was looking much like he did the night he saw Kurt in the hospital room. He looked manic. Then Kurt was crying again. Much like he had that first night in the hospital, except this time he had absolutely no idea why. He had no idea where the sobs and tears were coming from, yet they kept getting stronger and stronger. Kurt felt Blaine help him onto the bed, lay him down, and then wrap his arms around Kurt lovingly. Kurt sat crying, having that overwhelming feeling he was a child again. He was a child crying over loud thunder, his mother cradling him in her arms. His mother's arms that could protect Kurt from anything, those arms that could never protect him again. At this Kurt felt naked and vulnerable, a sitting duck. His mother's arms could not protect him from the evil words, from the fierce punches and hateful glares. The sobs were somehow becoming faster and harder, while Blaine's grip around his was becoming tighter. Kurt could hear, from what seemed a long way away, deep sobs coming from the boy who lay with him. Blaine's arms were around him, and their presence felt like safety to Kurt, the shadow of a feeling Kurt hadn't experienced in over 9 years.

They cried together for what felt like hours, only sitting up minutes after each of their tears had died away. They sat criss crossed across from each other, the only physical contact between them being the hands holding tightly together.

"What were you doing Kurt?" said Blaine in a cracking voice.

"I just, I just wanted to feel it, I wasn't going to…you know." Kurt said, his eyes firmly on their interlocked fingers.

"But I thought, I thought it was getting better." Said Blaine, looking like his words were about to throw him into a fit of tears again.

"Better? What's better?" Kurt said, his voice gaining volume as he spoke. "What's getting better Blaine? I still have to go to school to face people who think I'm better off dead! I still have to see the glares of people who see me as nothing more than a pervert! I'm still gay! The only thing that has changed is now everyone knows my feelings and that only makes it worse Blaine, not better!" Kurt was angry now. What did everyone think? Did they think he would just wake up in the hospital and say _oh well, that didn't work. Guess I'll just be all fine and dandy now, sorry bout that._ Did they really think his suicidal feelings would just vanish when he found himself alive?

"We know your secret Kurt. And we want to be there for you, we want to help you. Isn't that something to be happy about?" Blaine said in barely a whisper, looking teary eyed again. "Kurt when I met you, you were a wreck. You were lonely and you felt trapped, and all the time I thought I was watching you get better, you were really getting worse? I've seen you cry Kurt, and I never judged you or hurt you, and I never will. You may not have come to me before, but please, I'm here for you now, and I'm never going to go away until the day you force me out."

Kurt sat staring at Blaine for a while. He just didn't understand. Kurt wasn't sure what he didn't understand, but whatever it was, it made absolutely no sense. Blaine was saying he was there for Kurt, and that was confusing. Why was it confusing? It was quite straight forward really. And then a strange question popped into his head that answered why he was confused. There was one missing puzzle peace to what Blaine had said and Kurt wanted to know the answer.

"But why _me_ Blaine?" Kurt said sounding genuinely confused. "Why me? Blaine you're attractive and nice and any guy would go for you, why would you be there for me? I'm just some doll faced kid who's so pathetic he tried to take his own life, why would you be there for me? What did I do to deserve that?"

This thought had never occurred to Blaine, though it seemed now it should have been obvious. Ever since Blaine had met him, Kurt had seemed to be the most amazing person on the planet. Kurt was perfect in Blaine's eyes, and the idea that Kurt himself would think any less was inconceivable. But now Blaine knew that Kurt didn't see himself as perfect, the bitchy comments and stuck up persona was all an act. Kurt was stronger than people gave him credit for. To make everyone around you believe the bullies words bounce right off you, while inside they ripped apart your self esteem until there was none left, must have taken all the strength he had.

"You're perfect in my eyes, Kurt." Said Blaine softly. Kurt looked up at Blaine, and then down again to their interlocked fingers. Kurt squeezed Blaine's hand tightly in reply.

You cannot love another until you love yourself, Blaine thought to himself. Kurt had to love himself, and Blaine made it his duty to make that happen.

O-O-O-O-O-O

Kurt's first day at school was a very tense one. Kurt had worn a thick long sleeve shirt to cover his bandages, and Finn had stood by him every second he could. Karofsky had shoved Kurt against the lockers when Finn wasn't looking, and when Finn saw what happen just about pounced on him until Sue arrived. Finn had seemed out of his mind after that incident and had given the evilest glare to anyone who showed any sign of dislike towards Kurt. Kurt didn't mind much, much preferring to stay locked up in his own head, ignoring as much as he could around him.

Finn on the other hand was paying enormous amounts of attention to every single thing that was happening around Kurt. While Kurt was in the hospital, Finn had thought a lot about life. He had seen the evil in the world and had seen with his own eyes the injustice of life. Finn knew now that there was no eternal justice, no compensation. It was every man for himself out there and that world had eaten Kurt alive, right before Finns eyes. Finn had seen Kurt diminish and had done nothing about it, but now Finn knew better. He was determined to protect Kurt from the injustice of the world; he was determined to protect Kurt from pain as much as he could, because he knew that he was the only one who could, the only one who would.

They had made it through the day with little problems; people seemed too scared of Finn to try anything. He had convinced Kurt to come to the glee club meeting in the hopes the sight of Mercedes and all his other friends might give him something to hang onto. Kurt didn't like being a charity case, but Finn had gotten all emotional which Kurt knew to mean this would help Finn feel better.

The final bell had rung and the halls of McKinley high had begun to fill with student either making their way out of the building or off to whatever activities they had planned. Kurt and Finn walked side by side on the way to the chorus room, Kurt looking zoned and Finn looking alert and dangerous. They had just turned the corner onto the hallway that held the chorus room when Karofsky came lumbering towards them, straight at Kurt, looking determined. Finn stood in front of Kurt who looked anxious, Burt Karofsky pushed him aside with such force that he had enough time to shove Kurt against the locket yelling "hey faggot! Haven't seen you in a while. Been cryin' at home like a nancy boy?" he mocked rubbing his eyes like a little child, a wide grin on his face.

Kurt didn't bother to put on a brave face; he had lost the ability to do that days ago. At the sight of Karofsky and random people in the gathering crowd laughing at him, Kurt just let his face contort into a look of anger. Before Kurt hand the opportunity to act on his anger however, Finn had lunged at Karofsky. It was amazing to Kurt how Finn, who was definitely smaller that Karofsky, managed to tackle him to the floor with apparent ease and start punching him in the face. It looked like puck wanted to help out, and so did Sam and mike, but Finn was in such a rage it caused the crowd to go still. Kurt saw the entire glee club was at the front of the queue. Finn started screaming at Karofsky, punches interrupting his words.

"You… Son… Of… A… bitch…! You think… you're better than Kurt… huh…? You… think you can just… torture someone until… they attempt suicide and get away… scot fucking free…!" the crowd went silent as every face in the crowd turned to Kurt with equal looks of shock. Kurt just kept his head down, feeling like he was standing at the bottom of an avalanche, face contorted with rage.

Coach Beaste and sue managed to fight through the crowd and, with great effort, pull Finn off the miraculously still conscious Karofsky. Sue dragged Finn and Karofsky by the ears towards the principal's office while coach Beaste tried to disperse the crowd. Kurt remained still, feeling the eyes of everyone who had heard Finns words on him. Everyone including every member of the glee club. Kurt rushed past everyone with his head down towards the chorus room and sat down in the far corner, hating what he was about to face. The glee club slowly came into the room, trying to catch glances at Kurt while still avoiding his eyes. No one was speaking, and when everybody had gotten their seats, nobody moved. Mercedes sat next to Kurt, and she knew Kurt too well to know that Finn was not lying, and that suicide was the reason why Kurt was in the hospital, and she had tears falling down her face.

Kurt didn't know what to think. He was furious that Finn had yelled his secret out to everyone like that, but he had been protecting Kurt. He had cared about Kurt so much that he was willing to get in a serious fight over Kurt's happiness. Fury was fighting gratitude, but fury was steadily winning.

Mr. Shue walked into the room looking concerned an anxious. "What happened guys, I heard something about Finn and Karofsky?"

The room stayed silent until Brittany spoke sounding oblivious and confused. "Well Karofsky called Kurt that bad name so Finn beat him up and said something about Kurt doing suicide, but I don't know what that is."

There was a collective intake of breathe from the room. Santana was staring at Brittany like she had just slapped her. Mr. Shue was looking shocked, staring from Brittany to Kurt, and then mouthing "oh my god."

Everyone was staring at Kurt again, and Kurt was just about ready to stand up and leave. "I don't know why everyone's staring at me, do you think I like being stared at or are you-"he broke off. He had raised his arm in annoyance and his sleeve had fallen slightly to reveal the bandages wrapped around his right arm that had small escaped trickles of blood slithering through the wrapping. Some had seen the bandages, while the ones who hadn't immediately understood, Kurt's hurry to pull his sleeve back down having given him away. Kurt got up with that overwhelming feeling he had had earlier of standing below an avalanche, and stormed out of the room.

The chorus room remained silent for minutes after Kurt had left. Mr. Shue was staring at the place where Kurt had left looking shocked and hurt, Mercedes and Tina doing the same but with tears cascading down their faces. Puck, Santana, and Sam were staring at their hands, looking as if they were trying to understand concepts beyond anything their minds were capable of. Rachel was curled up in her chair, arms wrapped around her legs. Though her face was buried in her knees, the fact that she was shaking gave away her crying.

No one went to comfort Kurt as he lay in the backseat of Finns truck crying, wishing for it all to end, wishing he had never woken up in that eerie hospital room, and wishing Blaine was here to take some of the pain away.

**A/N-Thank you so much for reading! I just want to say a few things. This is such a serious thing that I want to do it justice, so I try to relate through my own experiences as much as possible. I do know what it's like** **to go back home after something huge like this, and there was a time many years ago when I knew what it was like to cut and be suicidal, though it's not I time I like to think about. The hallowed out candle was actually something I did a while ago, I used to keep my stash of acid (a drug) in a hallowed out candle I had made myself back in my druggie days. I felt like these were things that needed to be said because I don't want anyone to think I'm just writing about things I don't understand, and I promise this fic does not represent anything about who I am at the moment, or even who I've been any time in the recent past. Anyway, thanks a ton for reading and please review and leave art requests and all that.**__


	5. 4 months later

**A/N- I'm not quite sure how long it has been since I updated this, but I want you guys to know it is very unlikely that I will do so again. I might finish this chapter because it has a bit of a cliffhanger, but all my energies are going towards my art, my novel, and my other story, "there will always be a friend." if you want to read it, it is on my profile, I update it regularly. I'm really sorry about abandoning this story you guys! I wrote this a few weeks ago and completely forgot about it, I just recently found it in my old documents, which is why its not finished, but I thought I should give it to those of you who liked this story. **

4 months later

I'm a brand new person now, I suppose. 4 months ago seems years ago, and the moments and minutes and years that happened before are like rolls of film from old black and white movies. They play through my mind with no sound or color, constantly blurring and never clear. Sometimes when I lay in bed at night thinking of those years in the "before", I feel like Norma Desmond, trapped inside my own mind, forever watching clips of a time where things were different and slowly going mad. But then I would remember how dark those times were, and how ironic it is that I hate all my secrets being out in the open now, but 4 or 5 months ago, all I wanted to do was scream them out to the world. Life is getting better though, or at least, I am getting better. How foolish it was to have attempted to take my own life, I see that now. Sometimes when I smile, or when I laugh, or when I feel a pleasant winter breeze graze through my hair like snowy fingers, I think about how easily those moments could have never existed.

There are times, many times, mostly occurring in the dead of night and in the darkest of fantasies, I think of the feel of icy blades on my skin, the jolt of giddiness to my stomach that seemed to shoot from the blade itself like a shot of adrenaline pushed from a syringe, and the trickles of blood popping from the indented skin, like little red fish swimming up for air. Most of the time I had the sense to shake myself and get a glass of water, but sometimes…well. There is this spot, right above my left leg, that is always covered by clothing, except of course when I bathe, and that I have full reign on. Sometimes, when I don't shake myself and drink water, when the thought of bitter sweet pain seems a little too inviting, I sneak my finger into a whole I made in my mattress and take out the small Swiss army knife in there. It had been 2 months ago when I saw it hanging off the book bag of someone waking in front of me in the school hallway. I had swallowed my guilt and stolen it, snapped it off his bag with a jolt to my gut out of the nervous fear that someone would see me, but no one batted an eye. But of course, I only use it occasionally.

Blaine remained ignorant to my little secret hiding place. He thought, maybe out desperation, that I was perfectly fine, and perfectly unscathed. During my dry periods where the small knife lay untouched, hidden under cotton and sheets, I feel no guilt for lying to him, for doing whatever I could to hide the patch of skin on my lower hip. But sometimes, when I'm not so guiltless, I find it hard too look him in the eyes. I've realized many things now that I didn't know before. Cutting has become more of a desire than a crutch now a days. It is not something I do when I am feeling low, but when I'm feeling bored or restless. Also, I had learned that Blaine loved me. He drove so long every morning just so he can be with me as often as possible. Even dad and Finn had gotten used to his presence. There are no more "how are you getting home"'s or "staying for dinner?"'s. sometimes Blaine went home, sometimes he didn't, but he always stayed for dinner, and he always washed the dishes and helped with household chores.

Dad and Blaine had seemed to come to some sort of unspoken agreement involving mine and Blaine's living situation. Blaine was always allowed in my room, as long as he told dad everything he thought might be wrong with me. Sometimes I felt like Blaine was some sort of secret spy set out to track and record my every move, but even if he was, I had also realized that I loved him back, and nothing would make me want to be absent of his presence. Sometimes I caught him looking at me with teary eyes, but I never called him out on it. I know trying to take my own life four months ago haunts his thoughts, and I know that the possibility of me trying such a thing again has become his greatest fear.

Though Blaine feared it so greatly, though my father was practically, if not literally ill with the fear of it, I have no plans to attempt suicide again. There was a time period after getting out of the hospital where I would always have a space in the front of my mind reserved for suicidal madness. That place in my mind still exists, but it seems every time I enter it, I find a million pieces of life I haven't experienced yet.

I found out a couple weeks ago that Finn had been carrying around the pocket watch I gave him everywhere he went. He seemed ashamed to admit it, but sometimes I see a glint of silver from his back pocket when he walks by. I don't bring him warm milk anymore; it seems ever since that day 4 months ago I have gotten a new way of thinking. What was the point of bringing the milk to him? To be honest I don't think he ever drank it, and I think I might just make a fool of myself if I do it again. Just like Blaine, I sometimes catch Finn looking at me in a pained expression, and he's always so reluctant to leave my side. Finn never gave up his insistent protectiveness at school, and people wouldn't dare touch me or say one bad word to me after Finn beat up Karofsky and got suspended for a week.

Dad is the worst though; I don't think I could ever fully appreciate how much doing what I did has hurt him. He's been trying so hard to be the best father he can by doing all those things he never wanted to do before, but the problem is I'm no longer that kid who wanted to play tea party and figure out which color of raspberry went best with aqua. Sure, I still loved fashion and show tunes and all the things I did before, but it was as if they all seemed like something I would start being passionate about again later, for it seemed so pointless now. I wish I could give the world to my father for everything I've done to him, all the things I do on a daily basis that send him into panics that keep him shivering and anxious every waking moment.

Blaine and I were sitting on my bed doing our homework in our pajamas. It was late at night and the moon shone through the open window in beams of bluish grey, illuminating the floor and dancing with the flickering light of the candles set all around the room. I always liked candle light better than florescent because it felt so natural, and the florescent lights were so unflattering. Blaine wasn't so fond of them, but he kept his mouth shut. My mind drifted easily from the dynamics of wwII to Blaine, whose eyebrows were furrowed and tongue between his teeth in concentration. It wasn't until I noticed the sheets on my bed had been carelessly left awry around the area of the hole in my mattress, Blaine's fingers toying with the fabric so incredibly close to the hiding spot, that my mind stopped thinking about Blaine's lips.

My heart seemed to have stopped beating right there. If Blaine found my knife, I was sure it would be like taking his heart and squeezing it until it popped. I had no idea what to do, and it was only a matter of time before Blaine's fingers found the ripped fabric. But would it be so bad if Blaine did find my knife? The thought was insane. Though for some reason I had gotten the most peculiar urge to let Blaine find it. So, feeling crazy and determined at the same time, I sat pretending to be concentrating on my homework while keeping one eye on Blaine's fingers, which had started to circle the rip in the fabric. It seemed each clockwise swirl around the hole that Blaine's finger made raised my heart rate repeatedly, and surly he could feel it now! Surly Blaine would soon feel cold metal on his finger tips and stop this torturous rising of my heart beats which I could feel beating and beating in my neck, sending heat to my face and weight to my stomach.

Blaine's finger stopped swirling, his eyes stop moving, and he was still. I was still as well, immediately regretting having not distracted Blaine the second I noticed danger. Panic crept up my stomach into my throat, fogging my brain, still I sat still, but not as still as Blaine. Blaine moved his finger down into the rip as I felt tears welling in my eyes, and pulled out the small, silver grey, Swiss army knife. There was a moment where Blaine seemed to stare at the knife with no expression at all, then he grabbed it in his fist and squeezed hard, his knuckles whitening, and looked up at me, but I kept my eyes down, a single tear falling onto my empty paper. I glanced up momentarily to see Blaine who had his eyes closed, the tightly clenched fist that held the knife held up to his lips. I would have thought he was kissing it, but the part of his face not obscured by the fist was one of misery. Deciding not to look back down again, I stared at Blaine as he remained as he was for a long time, looking as if he were thinking with all the energy he had, and I did not dare speak.

After what seemed a long time, Blaine opened his eyes, and suddenly I didn't have the courage to keep looking up, and hurriedly swiped my gaze back down to a tear stained, empty piece of notebook paper.

"Let me see them." said Blaine, his voice sounding choked and Brocken.

At first, I thought I could play stupid and ask what he meant, but I knew, and Blaine knew that I knew, what he was talking about. What was the point of hiding them? Part of me even wanted to show him. They had become sort of friends to me, I had this strange admiration for them, and I even felt a bit protective over them. It made no sense to me, how someone could admire self-inflicted cuts, how I loved them in a way. A completely illogical part of my mind wanted Blaine to see them, wanted to show Blaine these little pieces of me that I loved, though I knew they were wrong. I gave Blaine a tearful look, and with a demeanor of someone in deep shame I sat in criss cross as Blaine did the same, and pulled down the corner of the left side of my pajama pants to show the patch of skin on my leg bearing long red scabs set in straight and diagonal lines. He stared at them, looking oddly beautiful, as if he wished to press his lips to them to make them go away in love. Blaine reached out his hands, one holding on tight to my hand which lay in my lap, and the other touching my hand which kept the scabs uncovered to indicate I should let the fabric slide back over my cuts. He made so he was holding both my hands in-between us, and he bore into my eyes with such intensity that I only just managed to keep from averting my eyes. This was worst than scolding and worst than a disappointed stare, this was feeling hopeless in the face of the boy who I loved and who loved me, knowing that Blaine wanted more than life itself to help me, but I could never give that to him because I knew the answer no better than he.

"I wish" croaked Blaine, sounding as though it was a choice between speaking and sobbing."I wish I knew how to help you Kurt, and I wish I knew what you needed, and I've had a lot of time to think. Now if your father knew I was doing this, I would never be allowed within 50 feet of you, and if I'm wrong I don't think I could ever forgive myself."

I felt strange and anxious, and felt especially foolish for wishing in the back of my mind that Blaine would present some miracle answer to all my problems, all my confusion.

"I'm not going to take the knife away from you Kurt. I'm going to put it back where I found it and I'm not going to tell your father I saw it, but Kurt," Blaine became very intense then, more intense than he had been before, and I knew that what he was about to say would be thick with emotion. "Kurt you need to promise me with everything remotely sacred to you that you will not use it in any way to harm yourself. I feel like taking away the control of having the knife will only make it more… likely, but the thought of you hurting yourself is too much for me to bare so please Kurt, please promise you will not hurt yourself with it even though you can, please promise me that, because I love you Kurt and I can't stand to think that I am just letting you hurt yourself." Blaine finished, and he looking hopefully at me, looking so desperate with tears in his eyes and his hands holding mine so tightly that I don't think he was aware of his strength.


End file.
