Work Text:
❀ 1 ❀
"time, curious time"
Blaine's hands are warm where they rest on Kurt's arm. They're sitting in art class, side by side and surrounded by strewn about markers and half-finished projects.
The air conditioning had broken down — just their luck — and it had already grown hot enough that he and Blaine had given in and rolled up the sleeves of their blazers.
That doesn't stop Blaine from reaching out to grab Kurt's arm from where it's resting on the cool tabletop, pulling it in front of himself. With one hand lying on Kurt's wrist, fingertips pressed to his pulse point, Blaine uses his other to uncap a red washable — they may be students attending a private boarding school but this is a high school art class, after all — marker.
It isn't the first time Blaine has drawn something on Kurt.
It isn't the first time Kurt doesn't mind; turning his head away so he can see the finished project after Blaine has finished.
The marker tickles his skin but the lines Blaine draws on his arm soothe him. Time passes.
Hearing Blaine clearing his throat, Kurt looks down at his arm.
Free of Blaine's hands, Kurt can see the art in its entirety; a red heart drawn over his blue veins and smaller stars scattered around it.
Looking up at Blaine, Kurt smiles his approval, surely blushing when he sees that Blaine is quietly observing him, leaning against his propped-up arm.
Blaine grins back.
❀ 2 ❀
"something wrapped all of my past mistakes in barbed wire"
It's a bad day; Blaine had known it from the moment he'd stepped out of bed and taken careful measures to avoid the full-length mirror Wes had placed against the wall.
Getting dressed quickly, Blaine chances a glance in the mirror as he gels his hair back, before he knots his shoelaces and steps out the door.
He finds Kurt in the café, a half-eaten chocolate chip muffin sitting next to his opened laptop.
“What're you doing up so early?”
Kurt smiles, dimples flashing in the warm light, as Blaine kisses him on the cheek and takes a seat on the chair next to him, moving Kurt's bag and placing it on his lap.
Kurt sighs, resting a hand over Blaine's where it's flat on the table, “Essay.”
Blaine steals a chocolate chip from Kurt's muffin, “Apush?”
“Unfortunately,” Kurt replies. “You're lucky you finished it already.”
Blaine shrugs, “Only because I'm not a transfer who has to catch up to pace while turning current work in on time.”
There's a pause, Kurt squeezing his hand, before he nods towards his muffin, “Do you want the rest of it?”
Blaine tilts his head, considering.
“I'm not going to finish it,” Kurt adds.
Blaine sighs through his nose.
“What's going on?” Kurt asks, “You've been staring at that muffin like it's personally offended you. And I know for a fact you were stealing the chocolate chips earlier.”
Blaine feels a blush stain his cheeks but meets Kurt's gaze anyway.
Trust is a delicate thing. One that Kurt's proven he's earned.
“It's just,” Blaine idly messes with one of the buttons on his blazer's sleeve, “I don't really need to eat right now. The meds I take for my ADHD kinda stop me from feeling hungry this early in the day.”
Kurt's gaze is unreadable; Blaine glances at his laptop screen, Kurt's essay, which he has no intention of reading right now.
“There's more.”
Blaine meets his eyes, letting the weight of Kurt's hand on his palm ground him.
“Yeah.” Blaine starts, “Some days I just can't.”
There's another pause, both parties considering their options, before Kurt tugs Blaine's hand in front of him, “Give me your arm.”
Blaine cooperates, watching Kurt grab a black marker from his pencil case.
Kurt sends him a questioning look, okay?
Blaine nods, yes, giving him a small smile that Kurt returns without hesitation.
Kurt likes to glance away when Blaine draws on him, but Blaine is the opposite. He adores watching Kurt concentrate on anything, his brows furrowing and foot tapping. And yet, Kurt's hand is steady as he draws letters onto the back of Blaine’s hand.
Loved.
That's what it says when Kurt finishes, capping the marker with a click and pushing it back into his bag.
Loved.
Putting away his case, Kurt stretches an arm around Blaine, who pauses before relaxing into the hold.
Kurt smells like freshly cleaned laundry, an autumn breeze, wildflowers, and the feeling of falling in love. He smells like home.
Blaine twists in his seat — setting one foot down on the ground, opposite side of the bench — and holds Kurt closer.
❀ 3 ❀
"cold was the steel of my axe to grind"
Kurt feels heavy, weighed down by age-old scars that never seem to heal.
Fading bruises and lingering fear still make him flinch away from the sound of slamming lockers and excited shouts.
It’s infuriating, that no matter how happy he is here at Dalton, he still can’t get rid of the hurt. The terror.
The feeling of being watched trails him with every step he takes away from McKinley.
And on top of it all, he misses his dad. He misses Mercedes. And Quinn. And Rachel. And Carole and Finn.
Kurt’s content with his decision to board at Dalton but that doesn’t stop him from missing his home. His family.
Kurt stops at row of lockers next to Blaine’s English class, where he’s finishing a test.
Lost in his thoughts, he doesn’t realize Blaine’s done with his test until his boyfriend's brushing up against him, grin big and eyes tired, “Hello, stranger.”
Kurt smiles back — Blaine’s grins are contagious — and watches as Blaine swings his backpack around, tucking his test paper into a folder before putting it back in its place and zipping his bag up.
He can't help but sigh in relief as Blaine links their arms and starts their trek down the hallway, matching Kurt’s pace step for step.
“So, how was it?” Kurt asks, even if he knows Blaine must’ve done well if he’s this happy leaving the test room.
“89 percent.” Blaine replies, “I honestly didn’t think I’d do that well.”
Kurt sends him a small smile, “You always say that.”
When he glances to the side, Kurt sees Blaine looking at him, lips upturned and head tilted in thought, “Is everything okay?”
It says a lot about how much Kurt trusts Blaine that he's able to stop his walls from coming down. Unfortunately, that doesn’t stop the words from getting caught in his throat.
Blaine drops his arm, sliding his hand down until their fingers are linked. “C’mon,” He says, “I know where we can go.”
Kurt follows as Blaine leads and before he knows it, they’ve reached Dalton’s library. It’s almost completely empty, Kurt notes as he glances around, letting Blaine steer him towards the corner where — between shelves — lie two bean bags. Blaine had brought Kurt here the first week after his transfer and it had become a go-to comfort space for both of them.
Blaine takes a seat first, dropping his backpack before settling down on the black bean bag. Kurt sets his messenger bag on the ground, sitting on the red bean bag chair next to him.
When he looks up at his boyfriend, Blaine’s rummaging through his backpack and retrieving a black marker.
“I can do something. So you don’t have to watch me watching you.” Blaine explains, sheepishly rubbing a hand over the back of his neck.
Kurt lets out a breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding, taking off his blazer while shifting to the edge of the bean bag and setting his arm on Blaine’s lap. Their shoulders touch now that they’ve both moved closer and he closes his eyes as Blaine unbuttons the sleeve of Kurt's dress shirt, carefully rolling his sleeve up to his elbow.
Blaine wraps a cool hand around his wrist, and Kurt twists in his seat, leaning the side of his head against the wall, “It’s so stupid, I just can’t-”
The touch of the marker is cold against his overheating skin, “I still feel like the things that happened at McKinley, could happen here too.”
“They couldn’t.”
Kurt’s exhale is shaky, even to his own ears, “I know. I know, and that’s why I hate it.” He’s beyond grateful Blaine’s looking down at his arm and not at Kurt’s eyes as they tear up.
“You shouldn’t be angry at yourself for not forgetting what happened. Or for feeling that fear. You’re human, no one should expect you to just get over it,” Kurt opens his mouth to respond but Blaine’s faster, “And that includes yourself.”
“I don’t know how to respond to that,” Kurt admits.
Blaine hums, “You don’t have to.”
A beat passes, the silence comfortable, before, “Can I kiss you?”
Kurt hears the snap of a cap closing over the marker and feels the blood rushing to his cheeks as he nods, “Always.”
Feeling Blaine’s exhale, Kurt tilts his head, smiling softly as Blaine brings a hand up to rest on his cheek. He pulls away slowly and Kurt's eyes flutter open, assimilating to the light, and looking down at where Blaine is resting a hand on his arm.
Courage.
Kurt draws him back in with both hands and Blaine laughs, eyes flickering between Kurt’s eyes and lips before he closes the gap and becomes the new reason Kurt’s losing his breath.
❀ 4 ❀
"hell was the journey but it brought me heaven"
Blaine's been clean for nearly a year, he thinks. He’s never been one to keep track of these things. He either does or doesn’t. And he doesn’t. Hasn’t in a long time.
Kurt makes him happy. He always knows what to say when Blaine’s hurting; senses when Blaine needs help shouldering the weight that’s been pushing him down.
Blaine trusts Kurt implicitly. Which is why he wants to kick himself for not telling Kurt about this.
About the thin lines high on his thighs, visible where his gym shorts have ridden up. The other guys had left — they'd changed after the dodgeball game and left with shouted goodbyes — but Kurt and Blaine had stayed behind. And now Kurt is staring down at his leg, wide-eyed, and Blaine feels like he can’t breathe because what the hell is there to even say?
Kurt drops into a crouch, hands on Blaine’s knees, and looks up at him as though asking for permission. Blaine nods, eyes following Kurt’s cautious movements as he traces the scars with a featherlight touch.
“Blaine-” Kurt’s voice cracks and Blaine can feel his heart drop to his stomach.
He tilts forward — Kurt pulling him into a hug — and drops his head on Kurt’s shoulder, hunching over his form.
Kurt just buries his face in Blaine’s neck — breath wet and shaky — and tangles a hand in Blaine’s hair. For once, Blaine couldn’t give less of a shit about his gelled back hair.
He just shivers, holding tightly to the back of Kurt’s gym shirt.
Time passes and they stay there, holding each other, mending each other’s hurts.
Eventually, Blaine pulls back, offering Kurt a watery smile, “I haven’t in a long time.”
Kurt traces his face, from his temple to his jawline, “I’m glad.” He pauses, as though searching for the right words to say, “But if you do.”
Blaine goes to protest but pauses as Kurt meets his eyes, “But if you do, please talk to me.”
Blaine nods.
“I might not understand- Or- Or relate but I don’t want you to ever feel as though you’re alone.” His breath is shaky, “I’m never going to leave you alone. Never.”
Blaine lets out a laugh that comes out half-choked, “Never ever?”
Kurt holds out a pinky and Blaine links his finger around it, “Never ever.”
Letting his hand fall back to Blaine’s leg, Kurt taps his thigh, “Wait here.”
Blaine waits, watching curiously as Kurt grabs his bag.
Oh. Kurt sets the messenger bag on the bench, markers in hand.
“Can I?”
Blaine nods, eyes tearing up, “Yeah. Of course.”
Kurt smiles, his hands settling on Blaine’s thigh as he uncaps the blue marker.
Half an hour passes by as Kurt draws flowers of all shapes and sizes over his thigh, and by the time he’s done, Blaine’s leg may as well be a piece of artwork.
He smiles as Kurt points out the flowers’ names because of course, he knows them all.
It’s dark when they leave the building and climb into Kurt’s car.
Holding Kurt’s hand over the center console, Blaine watches the McKinley sign fade into the distance, tracing a hand over the petals of flowers he doesn’t need to see to feel.
❀ 5 ❀
"chains around my demons, wool to brave the seasons"
Their friends may be watching them, judging them, but Kurt doesn’t mind. Instead, he watches as Blaine pushes his sleeve just a few inches up and picks out a marker pen.
Behind him, Santana leans over his shoulder, hair hitting the side of his neck and making him shiver, “Please tell me he knows you’re not actually porcelain.”
Kurt laughs as Blaine pauses — the marker hovering over Kurt’s wrist — and glares at Santana, who smiles at him sickly sweet, before reclining back in her chair.
Blaine goes back to his task without delay, writing curving letters over Kurt’s wrist, and adding a smiley face at the end of the note for good measure.
Kurt watches Blaine fondly, idly tracing the lines of his profile with his gaze. He needs to remind Blaine how beautiful he is. Later.
Now, he just grins back at Blaine as he moves back, handing Kurt the marker and holding out his arm.
Kurt’s brows furrow in concentration as he wraps a hand around Blaine’s arm, turning it over.
Returning the favor, Kurt traces Blaine’s skin lightly, watching as the words “Love Yourself” take form.
He adds a heart at the end.
By the last bell, the marker has faded, leaving streaks of lines behind that used to form words.
They don’t mind; they’ll just redo them when they get home.
❀ +1 ❀
"one single thread of gold tied me to you"
“Ready?” Blaine asks, practically shaking in his anticipation.
Kurt grins back, just as excited, “Yes.”
They unwrap the tape around their fingers with careful hands, before holding them out next to each other.
They'd just gotten tattoos, ribbons made of thinly drawn red lines coming together in a bow’s loop that wraps around the side of their pinky fingers. When he rests his tattoo beside Kurt’s, the ribbons look connected.
It’s their red string of fate.
“It’s beautiful,” Kurt murmurs shakily, and Blaine glances up at him, taking in his watery eyes and bright smile.
Pulling Kurt in, Blaine revels in the press of their lips before moving back, their noses touching and foreheads resting against each other, “It’s beautiful. You’re beautiful.”
Blaine feels Kurt smile, lips upturned as they both lean forward.
Even their hearts beat the same, just as intertwined as any other part of them.