songstobesung
March 28, 2012, 11:02 a.m.
Over
One day, Kurt, I will dissapoint you. And the sad thing is: I won't be sorry. TRIGGER WARNING: Suicide
T - Words: 1,314 - Last Updated: Mar 28, 2012 753 0 1 0 Categories: Angst, Characters: Blaine Anderson, David Martinez, Kurt Hummel, Wes, Tags: OMG CREYS,
Life is unexpected. It takes you for a ride. Sometimes you fly, high in the air, nothing can touch you and everything feels so amazing. You never want to come down, just want to stay up there, looking around, touching clouds and whistling songs that you never thought could be whistled, giggling, laughing, time of your life and everything is beautiful.
It can go low though, sinking feeling in your stomach, pain in the chest, tears falling down your cheeks, staining lips and harsh goodbyes. It makes everything blur at the edges, disappearing into nothingness, saying goodbyes. You're in your room, crying into a pillow, looking for a way out and everything is dark, twisted, and hurtful and you think you just might want to die.
It was him falling, darkly into something indescribable, something harsh and cold. His eyes were lost, broken, and when he said those words, it felt like he was saying…goodbye.
"One day, Kurt, I will disappoint you. The sad this is: I won't be sorry."
-
They found him, walking the hallways alone. His eyes never met anyone's, the ground his companion. Wes and David stared at him, looking for a way in. But his eyes were glassy, red-rimmed. He slowly lifted them at the sound of his name, seeing a small brunette with the most beautiful blue eyes he'd ever see, the green and gray swirling in them. He had a scared, small look on his face, and all he could think about was that it was his fault for everything. His fault for the look.
He closed his eyes, shutting them tightly, forcing the image out of his head, but it stayed there, scarred and twisted into a lie that he thought was the truth. His words echoed in his mind, and he wondered if they'd be sorry too. Or would anger consume them whole, as they found him-
He wondered these thought sin secret, but never a loud in fear of making his dream true to others. It was dirty little game, a quick jab into his flesh, and hiss of pain that didn't help anymore. He felt his hand creep over them, dancing lightly, and he knew it was tonight.
He needed to say his goodbyes, needed to say them now. He lifted his eyes to Wes and David, before smiling sadly at them.
This is really goodbye.
-
He wrote the notes, scribbling them quickly. He stared at Wes's and David's, the words complete. They were his two best friends, the two people he could always count on for a pick-me-up, for the highest point of life (or, close to it, at least). He looked down at others: the Warbler's, eight part harmony without leads; His parents; Karen, his younger sister, to which he knew she wouldn't remember him in a few years as she was only one, but he knew he was letting her down.
Then came Kurt.
A small feeling of hope swirled through his chest, but a darker force pushed it away, and with courage he lacked, he wrote down three words, and then three more. Six words that summed up his feelings meant more than the thousands he wrote before. He grabbed all the letters, before taking them with him, sticking them under doors, hoping they'd wake up in the morning to find him gone.
That was the plan.
-
Kurt heard shuffling throughout the hallways, slowly waking up. He saw a blur of white slip underneath his door. He groggily got out of bed, his feet swiftly touching the floor. He stumbled, slightly, before picking up the white letter, seeing familiar handwriting. The letter was addressed to him.
He opened it with urgency, seeing Blaine's handwriting scrawled like that. It looked scarred, hurt and seeking something, unlike his normal smooth even way he wrote.
Kurt, it read.
I love you.
So very much.
-Blaine
Kurt felt his eyes fill with tears, and he remembered Blaine's words spoken to him a few days ago.
"One day, Kurt, I will disappoint you. The sad this is: I won't be sorry."
-
He found him in the Dalton chapel, used for those kids who boarded over the weekends, or just wanted a quiet place to pray or be alone. He found him, head in hands, sobbing. A small piece of glass, tip sharp and deadly, by his side, stained with a dark and violent red. Kurt felt his breathing stop, his heart beating loudly for a second, before he ran over to Blaine, sun starting to rise, flooding the chapel with light.
Blaine lifted his head, two bloody handprints tinting his cheeks, staining his pale skin. Dark circles rested underneath his eyes, which were glassy and puffy. He closed such sad hazel eyes, his heads turning to the ceiling, and small smirk on his face, contrasting with the tears slowly rolling down them, blood and tears, salty tears, mixing into one another, red drops falling off his chin.
His normal attire for weekend boarding, jeans, a shirt, jacket and scarf, were all gone, leaving sweatpants and a loose white shirt, hanging off his thin body. Kurt let his eyes travel down Blaine's body, and stopping on the two lines that went from the middle of his palm all the way to his elbow, deep and thick. Blaine's blood had stopped flowing, but Kurt could see that much blood had been shed.
He carefully made his way to the dying boy, before lightly touching his shoulder. Blaine let out a shaky breath, before letting Kurt look him in the eyes. He smiled, a sad smile, and Kurt kissed his lips, lightly. Blaine kissed back, before pulling back.
"I can't do this to you, Kurt. I'm going to be gone by the morning!" Blaine exclaimed, not angry, just tired. Kurt shook his head, not feeling like he was going to cry, staying strong for Blaine, feeling pressure he didn't know was there on his shoulders.
"Blaine, I'm not letting you go. I'm not." He spoke, quietly.
The sun poured through the stained glass pictures that covered the chapel. They shone on Blaine's skin, purples and blues and greens and whites all over his face. Kurt looked at his own skin, the light missing him slightly, his skin decorated with bright colors, reds and yellows and oranges. Blaine let out a shiver, and Kurt looked at him once more. He looked over at Blaine, looking at the arms which were decorated with a swirling colors, a rainbow of pinks, a bouquet of blues, a spray of yellows, a gaggle of purple, a cluster of his own blood. Kurt found himself catching his breath, taking Blaine into a hug, feeling his chest rise and fall, slowly.
"Kurt, I'm so sorry…" Blaine closed his eyes, waiting for a light to take him over. But, instead, darkness flew across his vision. Kurt felt tears in his eyes, Blaine's words not ringing true.
Kurt wasn't disappointed. And Blaine wasn't sorry.
It wasn't over.
-
Blaine felt his eyes open, in a white room, with Kurt hold his hand. Kurt's eyes were closed, his eyes fluttering with sleep. Blaine took in his surroundings, a hospital bed. IVs hooked up to him, running through him. An oxygen tank by his bed. He groaned, a dull ache in his arms. He looked at them, wondering if scars were there. They were healing, the long lines running up to his elbow. There were a few puckers here and there, but Blaine didn't care.
Kurt stirred, and Blaine held his hand tighter, feeling tears prick into his eyes. Kurt opened his eyes, before smiling at Blaine.
"I love you too, Blaine." He softly smiled. Blaine shook his head, in disbelief.
-
Life was a ride. It took you for highs, for lows. But, sometimes, the best part was the getting to the high, recovering and going up to the utmost peak, before staying there forever. Sometimes the climb was hard, sometimes you fell, but now Blaine knew someone was going to be there with him, ready to catch him, and ready to love him.
It can go low though, sinking feeling in your stomach, pain in the chest, tears falling down your cheeks, staining lips and harsh goodbyes. It makes everything blur at the edges, disappearing into nothingness, saying goodbyes. You're in your room, crying into a pillow, looking for a way out and everything is dark, twisted, and hurtful and you think you just might want to die.
It was him falling, darkly into something indescribable, something harsh and cold. His eyes were lost, broken, and when he said those words, it felt like he was saying…goodbye.
"One day, Kurt, I will disappoint you. The sad this is: I won't be sorry."
-
They found him, walking the hallways alone. His eyes never met anyone's, the ground his companion. Wes and David stared at him, looking for a way in. But his eyes were glassy, red-rimmed. He slowly lifted them at the sound of his name, seeing a small brunette with the most beautiful blue eyes he'd ever see, the green and gray swirling in them. He had a scared, small look on his face, and all he could think about was that it was his fault for everything. His fault for the look.
He closed his eyes, shutting them tightly, forcing the image out of his head, but it stayed there, scarred and twisted into a lie that he thought was the truth. His words echoed in his mind, and he wondered if they'd be sorry too. Or would anger consume them whole, as they found him-
He wondered these thought sin secret, but never a loud in fear of making his dream true to others. It was dirty little game, a quick jab into his flesh, and hiss of pain that didn't help anymore. He felt his hand creep over them, dancing lightly, and he knew it was tonight.
He needed to say his goodbyes, needed to say them now. He lifted his eyes to Wes and David, before smiling sadly at them.
This is really goodbye.
-
He wrote the notes, scribbling them quickly. He stared at Wes's and David's, the words complete. They were his two best friends, the two people he could always count on for a pick-me-up, for the highest point of life (or, close to it, at least). He looked down at others: the Warbler's, eight part harmony without leads; His parents; Karen, his younger sister, to which he knew she wouldn't remember him in a few years as she was only one, but he knew he was letting her down.
Then came Kurt.
A small feeling of hope swirled through his chest, but a darker force pushed it away, and with courage he lacked, he wrote down three words, and then three more. Six words that summed up his feelings meant more than the thousands he wrote before. He grabbed all the letters, before taking them with him, sticking them under doors, hoping they'd wake up in the morning to find him gone.
That was the plan.
-
Kurt heard shuffling throughout the hallways, slowly waking up. He saw a blur of white slip underneath his door. He groggily got out of bed, his feet swiftly touching the floor. He stumbled, slightly, before picking up the white letter, seeing familiar handwriting. The letter was addressed to him.
He opened it with urgency, seeing Blaine's handwriting scrawled like that. It looked scarred, hurt and seeking something, unlike his normal smooth even way he wrote.
Kurt, it read.
I love you.
So very much.
-Blaine
Kurt felt his eyes fill with tears, and he remembered Blaine's words spoken to him a few days ago.
"One day, Kurt, I will disappoint you. The sad this is: I won't be sorry."
-
He found him in the Dalton chapel, used for those kids who boarded over the weekends, or just wanted a quiet place to pray or be alone. He found him, head in hands, sobbing. A small piece of glass, tip sharp and deadly, by his side, stained with a dark and violent red. Kurt felt his breathing stop, his heart beating loudly for a second, before he ran over to Blaine, sun starting to rise, flooding the chapel with light.
Blaine lifted his head, two bloody handprints tinting his cheeks, staining his pale skin. Dark circles rested underneath his eyes, which were glassy and puffy. He closed such sad hazel eyes, his heads turning to the ceiling, and small smirk on his face, contrasting with the tears slowly rolling down them, blood and tears, salty tears, mixing into one another, red drops falling off his chin.
His normal attire for weekend boarding, jeans, a shirt, jacket and scarf, were all gone, leaving sweatpants and a loose white shirt, hanging off his thin body. Kurt let his eyes travel down Blaine's body, and stopping on the two lines that went from the middle of his palm all the way to his elbow, deep and thick. Blaine's blood had stopped flowing, but Kurt could see that much blood had been shed.
He carefully made his way to the dying boy, before lightly touching his shoulder. Blaine let out a shaky breath, before letting Kurt look him in the eyes. He smiled, a sad smile, and Kurt kissed his lips, lightly. Blaine kissed back, before pulling back.
"I can't do this to you, Kurt. I'm going to be gone by the morning!" Blaine exclaimed, not angry, just tired. Kurt shook his head, not feeling like he was going to cry, staying strong for Blaine, feeling pressure he didn't know was there on his shoulders.
"Blaine, I'm not letting you go. I'm not." He spoke, quietly.
The sun poured through the stained glass pictures that covered the chapel. They shone on Blaine's skin, purples and blues and greens and whites all over his face. Kurt looked at his own skin, the light missing him slightly, his skin decorated with bright colors, reds and yellows and oranges. Blaine let out a shiver, and Kurt looked at him once more. He looked over at Blaine, looking at the arms which were decorated with a swirling colors, a rainbow of pinks, a bouquet of blues, a spray of yellows, a gaggle of purple, a cluster of his own blood. Kurt found himself catching his breath, taking Blaine into a hug, feeling his chest rise and fall, slowly.
"Kurt, I'm so sorry…" Blaine closed his eyes, waiting for a light to take him over. But, instead, darkness flew across his vision. Kurt felt tears in his eyes, Blaine's words not ringing true.
Kurt wasn't disappointed. And Blaine wasn't sorry.
It wasn't over.
-
Blaine felt his eyes open, in a white room, with Kurt hold his hand. Kurt's eyes were closed, his eyes fluttering with sleep. Blaine took in his surroundings, a hospital bed. IVs hooked up to him, running through him. An oxygen tank by his bed. He groaned, a dull ache in his arms. He looked at them, wondering if scars were there. They were healing, the long lines running up to his elbow. There were a few puckers here and there, but Blaine didn't care.
Kurt stirred, and Blaine held his hand tighter, feeling tears prick into his eyes. Kurt opened his eyes, before smiling at Blaine.
"I love you too, Blaine." He softly smiled. Blaine shook his head, in disbelief.
-
Life was a ride. It took you for highs, for lows. But, sometimes, the best part was the getting to the high, recovering and going up to the utmost peak, before staying there forever. Sometimes the climb was hard, sometimes you fell, but now Blaine knew someone was going to be there with him, ready to catch him, and ready to love him.