Broken Bird

Blaine comes over every day without fail. I don't know how it's possible, but I think I love him more now than I ever have before. He's helped me through so much already, and now he's making this whole crazy situation, or at least moments of it, genuinely alright. He puts me as close to normal and okay as anyone can now.

Of course, none of that means I don't hide the worst from him. I actually hide more than the worst because I don't want to be anything less than perfectly fine, both for him and for myself. Still, there are moments when I'm afraid I've given some of my not-okay away. I try so hard, but I can feel myself failing. He gets that look on his face, like he's concerned and wants to say something. Sometimes he does. Nothing major has ever come of it though; I am a professional at the art of such front-building after all.

Today is not a good day, however. It might actually be one of the worst I've had in a while. Every attempt at sleep has been some sort of failure, and for the first time this week, I have made no attempt to do my school work. I actually thought I was getting better.

I keep music playing, so I feel less alone. For whatever reason, it is vital that I am not alone or at least I don't feel like I am. I debate the pros and cons of real company; on the one hand, I wouldn't be alone, but on the other hand, well, I wouldn't be alone. I would have to try to be okay when I am so not.

But Blaine comes over as always, so I have to be okay, and admittedly, I am somewhat relieved to see him. Whether I let him know it or not he's going to make this better. I greet him with as much of a smile as I can manage in my current state of mind.

"Hey," he replies, making his way towards me, "how are you feeling?"

So, he's starting with the tough questions right out of the gate today. That's alright; I think I can handle that. "Well, I've been better," because I can't for some reason bring myself to completely lie, "but I'm okay."

"Really? What's wrong?" The subtext reads "aside from the obvious", I'm sure. And for some reason he insists we talk about this.

Well, I'd rather not. "It's nothing. I just couldn't sleep, so I'm tired and sore, but I'm fine really."

He looks me in the eyes, and I can't decide if I should feel loved or cornered or some weird combination of the two. He shakes his head and sort of laughs. "You're always 'okay' and 'fine really'."

And something about that snaps me. I say it quietly, before I even realize I'm saying it, "I want to be."

He's still staring at me, and something in his gaze sort of goes sharp. "What?"

"I want to be okay and fine and normal again, but I can't and I'm not, and it's driving me crazy." I can't look at him anymore because he's still just there in my face watching me, and I'm freaking out.

"Kurt, it's okay." I can tell he doesn't completely know what to do, but he's doing his best. "It's okay," he says, and he says it like he means it, "You don't have to be any of that, not until you're ready." He's got his hand on my face, but he's hesitant to do much more.

The way he says it makes me want to believe it, especially in my currently weakened mental state. If my current shortcoming is any indication, I clearly cannot always be alright no matter how much I wish to be. That should be depressing, and maybe somewhere between the lines it is, but right now it's almost comforting. I can't always be strong or composed, so I can give up the neverending act, the walls, and the denial just for now. I can just once in my life surrender, and it should feel more horrible than it does, but maybe right now it's the only option I have anyway.

Although it would be nice if I could stop crying and rambling stupidly. "I just want- I want it to be over. It's stupid. Why can't I get over it?"

"It's not stupid, Kurt. It's really serious. You've been really hurt. What that guy did-" We both stop at that point and flinch. I close my eyes and try to remember how to breathe; I can't handle this discussion at all. He doesn't quite finish that sentence. "I'd be more concerned if you were already over it honestly."

"It's what he wants though. If I can't get my life back, if I can't get back in control, then he wins, and I can't- I- I just can't-" I'm not entirely sure how I was going to finish that sentence as my speech patterns finally devolve into complete chaos and inability.

"Shh, it's okay. I know," Blaine responds softly. He takes my hand and leads me back to my bed. "C'mon," he says, "You need to rest. It's okay."

I climb awkwardly back into bed. He still watches me with concern, not entirely sure what to do now. I take deep, shaky breaths that hurt in an effort to relax and regain some semblance of composure.

"I can leave-"

No, he can't. "Don't leave me!" It's the most desperate, needy utterance ever, and it's out before I can even think to stop it.

"Okay," he says, still speaking in even tones, "I won't." After a moment's hesitance, he crawls into the space beside me in bed.

Everything's okay. I take more shuddery breaths. Everything's fine. I'm not alone, and nothing bad is gonna happen. On the contrary, I have the best company in the world. I'm safe, secure, and incredibly sleepy.

"It's okay," I can hear Blaine quietly say beside me, "We'll get through this. It's gonna be fine..."

I'm finally able to drift into the best sleep I've had in weeks.