Backlash

Summary: In response to a prompt on the Glee Angst Meme. Paraphrased: After Blaine compares Kurt to Karofsky during their fight in BIOTA, Kurt starts thinking and it hits him like a battering ram that yeah, he's totally done some seriously creepy stuff before and what if Blaine's right and he's as bad as Karofsky? Maybe even worse, because at least Karofsky was never particularly sneaky about being a creepy asshole. Cue Kurt distancing himself because he doesn't want to be that person, ignoring texts and phone calls and invitations to hang out. Blaine gets more and more frustrated and annoyed because he's been trying to say that he's sorry and fix this and Kurt won't even give him the chance. Cue even more angst with endgame Klaine.

Well, this story didn't want to have a happily-ever-after-and-then-they-kissed fairy tale ending. IT ENDS HAPPILY THOUGH, I PROMISE.

Disclaimer: I own nothing!

AN: Yeah, this took me way too long to write. My eternal apologies. Also, I know that there are a lot of differing opinions and responses to Kurt's behavior in BIOTA. I don't excuse the things he said but I don't see it as biphobia, more like HOLY SHIT I'M TOTALLY IN LOVE WITH YOU, FUCK YOU RACHEL BERRY.

Tl;dr: emotional reaction, not biphobia.

"And why did he do that?"

"Because he didn't like who I was."

"Sort of exactly what you're saying to me right now, isn't it?"

The moment the words were out of Blaine's mouth, Kurt froze. It started in his stomach and radiated out until he wasn't anything other than a Kurt-shaped icicle, sitting stunned in the middle of the Lima Bean as his friend continued to speak. And then he was alone.

He sat silently until about five minutes had passed before getting up and throwing away his full cup of coffee, slipping a few extra dollars into the tip jar on the counter.

The entire drive home, all he could think about was the way that those words sounded, angry and hurt.

Kurt wasn't going to excuse what he said; he'd been angry and hurt too and the fact that once again, Rachel ended up with something he considered precious, made him even colder.

Did Blaine think he was like Karofsky?

That he was some creepy stalker or a molester?

He'd certainly never hit anyone or thrown someone into a dumpster. Even if he were big enough to do it, he wouldn't. He wouldn't hurt someone. Or sexually harass anyone-

…Shit.

Kurt shivered.

He knew that he was intense, especially when it came to the people he liked. Finn had been enough proof of that. And Sam. And…

Holy damn, he'd gotten his father together with Finn's mother just so that they could share a room.

That might be the creepiest thing he'd ever done, and creepy it was.

Blue eyes blurred with tears and Kurt forced himself through the rest of the drive. His park job in the driveway was sloppy and haphazard and he'd probably catch it from his dad later for making it difficult to get into the driveway, but that was kind of the last thing on his mind. He flung the front door open and slammed it shut, causing Finn to poke his head out of the kitchen.

"Hey, Kurt—whoa, what happened to you? Were you crying?"

Kurt didn't answer in favor of scrambling down to his bedroom. Their bedroom, he remembered with a start, that he didn't have the right any more to bar the other boy from it.

The bathroom it is, he decided, and slipped inside, closing the door and locking it.

"Hey, you okay? What's wrong?"

Finn had followed him. Knocking on the door followed immediately.

"I'm fine, Finn!" Kurt forced himself to reply, "I'm fine! I just had a long day and I think I ate something bad. Just go back to whatever you were doing, I'll be okay. If Dad comes home, tell him I'm taking a nap."

His hands were shaking.

"Dude, you won't be taking a nap in the bathroom."

"Just go! Please, Finn."

"If you're going to be in there a while, you want me to bring you one of your Pokémon games?"

"No!"

And then all Kurt could hear was silence after footsteps faded up the stairs. The boy moved from his previous position of leaning against the door to sinking down to sit on the closed lid of the toilet. Letting out a deep, shaky breath, Kurt buried his face in his hands.

He couldn't do this.

God, he was practically a predator at this point. Admittedly, the idea of doing anything with Finn back then hadn't even occurred to him; he'd really only wanted to get to know him better and get closer to him emotionally, but still… how fast could that have changed? Even if it had gone the way he'd planned, would it eventually not have been enough for him? Would he have wanted more?

Worse, how far would he have gone if it had come to that?

Had the 'fag' debacle kept him from doing something even worse?

The very idea made him sick to his stomach.

Literally, Kurt noted with irony as he lurched to his feet and wrenched up the lid of the toilet to hang his head over it. For a while he couldn't move, panting and gasping desperately for air as he brought up everything he'd eaten that day.

If he'd gone that far for Finn, someone he was essentially infatuated with (and hero-worshipped), what had he been doing to Blaine? What could he do, considering that he loved this boy like he'd never loved Finn? It was obvious the kind of guys that the other boy went for, and that kind of guy was nothing at all like Kurt.

But he'd still hoped…

He didn't know when he'd started crying.

It was exactly 3:23 in the morning that Kurt figured it out.

He'd given up on sleep an hour ago and was staring stonily at the ceiling, wishing for a brief moment that it had cracks or spots or something just so that he'd have something to count.

He'd have to stay away from Blaine; that was the only thing for it. He couldn't risk damaging Blaine the way he'd hurt Finn. Blaine had made his point clearly enough in the coffee shop, Kurt had felt it hit home like a sledgehammer to the heart, and he'd probably be happier in the end.

Happy with Rachel, or happy with whoever else he ended up with.

God knows that he'd never be happy with Kurt.

[Hey, can we talk?]

[Where are you? ]

[You didn't come to practice today, what are you pulling? Talk to me.]

You have twelve missed calls.

"Kurt, what are you doing? Do I really have to resort to messaging you on Facebook of all things? We need to talk; you've been ignoring me all week. Come on, I know you check this thing. Kurt. KURT. WHY ARE YOU SO FRUSTRATING? You won't even give me a chance. Ugh. Call me, text me, something. And quit skipping practice, Wes is going to rip you a new one the next time he sees you."

Kurt read the message, sighed, and deleted it just like all the rest.

He'd give up eventually.

At first, Blaine had been confused. Not too confused, though; they were technically fighting so he kind of understood not responding to the first text, especially when he'd sent it that first night.

Confusion had morphed into hurt confusion after there had been no response to the next fifteen texts nor to the phone calls. He'd swear on his life that Kurt had managed to teleport because he'd found it impossible lately to catch him in the halls during breaks or after class.

This was especially impressive considering that he knew Kurt's schedule.

Hurt confusion had changed into angry, hurt confusion when Kurt had skipped Warblers practice. And ignored his calls and texts. And never replied to the message he'd sent to his Facebook. Blaine wasn't the only frustrated one, apparently; his wall had been flooded the past few days with 'what's going on with you?'s and 'answer me when I call you, boy!'s.

Now he was really just pissed.

He wanted to apologize.

He wanted to fix this and fix them and get his best friend back because he wasn't as good without him.

They'd both said some nasty things and Blaine just wanted to fix it up with him, no matter what it took at this point.

Kurt wouldn't even let him try.

Somehow, after practice that Friday (that Kurt had skipped, again), Blaine found himself pulling into the Hummel-Hudson driveway, getting out of his car with a purpose and striding up to knock firmly on the door. He passed the Navigator on the way.

This was the one place that Kurt wouldn't be able to avoid him, not really.

Not unless he had a cavalry, anyway.

Finn opened the door and his expression went weirdly relieved. A giant hand wrapped around Blaine's forearm and pulled him gently but insistently inside.

"Oh dude, thank God you're here. Maybe you can do something with him."

Blaine blinked.

"What am I…supposed to be doing?" he asked delicately, trying to keep the combined edge of annoyance and worry out of his voice. He knew what he was here to do. Whether that was what Finn had in mind was another story entirely.

"Something, anything. At this point, I don't even know if it matters anymore," Finn was making wide, sweeping gestures with his hands as he spoke and for a moment Blaine thought for sure he'd knock something over. "I don't know what happened; he won't tell anyone anything. I even brought him milk! We sleep in the same damn room and I barely even see him, much less talk to him."

By the time he'd finished, they'd come to a closed door on the first floor.

Finn rapped sharply on it, calling out,

"Hey, Kurt! Blaine's here to see you."

No answer.

"I know you can hear me! That's kinda rude, don't you think?"

Finally, a low response could be heard filtering through the door.

"I'd rather not see him right now."

"Dude, seriously? He took a two hour drive out here and you're not even going to say hi?"

Blaine stood silently when Finn replied. The taller boy didn't seem angry, mostly concerned. Biting his lip, Blaine tapped him on the arm.

"It's okay, Finn. I'll talk to him from here. Could you…?" He made a helpless shooing gesture and Finn nodded reluctantly. The act of turning away and leaving for the upstairs section of the house looked like it physically hurt, and Blaine wasn't sure if it was from worry or curiosity. Blaine stepped closer to the door and leaned against it. "Kurt? Open the door. I'm not leaving until we talk properly about this. Quit ignoring me and being a baby!"

Silence.

"Hey! You're being a jerk, you know that? I'm the one who's trying to fix this, doesn't it matter to you?" he spat, hurt and sad coiling in his gut.

There's a low thud that comes from inside Kurt's room, as if something (or someone in this case) had approached and decided to lean up against the door.

"I'm sorry."

Kurt's voice is so damned small.

"I'll leave you alone, I promise. I didn't mean to make you uncomfortable."

Blaine couldn't do anything but stare, dumbstruck. Of all the things he'd been expecting to hear, that wasn't one of them.

"It's just… you know, sometimes it takes a while for me to catch on. When I like someone, I can get really stupid and kind of need things thrown at me for them to sink in. I just… I'm stupid like that so I have to learn the hard way every time. The romantic in me just keeps saying hey, maybe this is the person who'll like you back."

Blaine could hear a ragged breath being drawn and it took him a few seconds to realize that it came from him.

"I didn't mean what I said to you in the coffee shop."

And yeah, that's totally a sob. Blaine felt the anger drain out of him and be replaced by absolute shock and the sudden desire to kick the door down. And possibly hug the daylights out of Kurt until he didn't sound so damned broken.

"It's just… well, it's obvious that I've been head over heels in love with you for months and I kind of thought we were getting there, but I guess I was wrong. It's okay for you to be who you are. I wasn't expecting you to kiss Rachel or to like it or want to date her and I reacted badly, and Rachel and I have a bad history of this sort of thing. You just seemed so sure that you were gay…"

"Kurt…" Blaine began but couldn't finish. His words got caught in his throat and he forgot most of what he wanted to say. The revelation that Kurt was in love with him had hit in the head like a cannonball. "Kurt, I…"

"I'm sorry, I guess I just thought I had a shot, you know? But one date was enough to change your mind, when months with me didn't do a thing. I'm really, really sorry."

Oh, sonuva—he's definitely crying. Quietly and trying to hide it, but the sound was unmistakable. Blaine put more of his weight on the door as if that would actually get him closer.

"Kurt, open the door."

"No."

"Come on, please. Open up. I'm not going anywhere until you do, and I don't want to tell your dad why I'm camping out in the hallway."

Silence.

Blaine's forehead hit the wood with a quiet thunk.

"Please open the door."

Finally, there was a low click of the lock sliding, but the door stayed closed.

"Hey, I'm opening it, okay?" Blaine turned the knob and pushed the door open. Kurt was hunkered down on one of the upper stairs, his knees drawn up to his chin. Blaine reached out to touch his shoulder and the taller boy nearly jumped out of his skin, tense and anxious. His eyes were rimmed with red and it was obvious that he was just barely keeping his tears in check again, judging by the intensity with which he was worrying his lower lip between his teeth.

Blaine sat down next to him.

"Hi," he said quietly.

Kurt didn't answer. The hands clenching into the fabric of his pants were shaking.

Blaine didn't know what to ask about first: the fact that he'd come out and said point blank that he was in love with him, or…

"Where did you get the idea that you made me uncomfortable?"

The blue eyes that locked onto his were all too serious.

"Karofsky," Kurt said finally, and the word dropped between them like a glass wall, "You said I was like Karofsky."

Blaine just sat, stunned. Kurt took advantage of the silence and continued.

"And I was thinking about it and I realized that you're right. I've done some really awful, really shady things. Especially considering the fact that it's clear you don't like me back and I just kept pushing at it even after Valentine's Day," his voice was almost a whisper now, "What else could you think of someone who does that?"

His lower lip was quivering.

Blaine looked so stupid. He knew he looked so stupid. But for a good twenty seconds, all he could do was sit there and stare like he'd never opened his eyes before. His heart pounded in his head, fast and heavy and oh my god what had he done? He opened his mouth to speak, only to let out a trembling, uneasy sigh.

He felt sick.

"Oh—oh god. No, Kurt, no, that's not what I- Shit. I didn't even—"

"It's okay, I get it."

"It's not okay at all!" Blaine practically shouted, reaching out to grab Kurt by the shoulders. The other boy was vibrating with tension. "And I don't think you get it, not one bit. I should never have said that to you. Ever, not ever in a million years. Goddamnit. I'm so sorry, that was a low blow. You're nothing like him!"

And then Kurt was turning away from him and scrubbing ferociously at his eyes with the heels of his palms.

"I didn't want this. I didn't want to ignore you. It hurts. But I can't—you can't be happy with someone like me." Kurt's voice dripped with bitter self-loathing, "I'll ruin you."

There were no words Blaine could say to make this better. Not right now.

All he could do was do.

And he did.

Blaine lunged forward and flung his arms around Kurt's shoulders, drawing him in close. Kurt twisted in his grip but found his face being tucked into a broad, warm shoulder.

"Kurt, I'm so sorry. For a lot of things, but mostly—God, there's no way that you could ruin me. Ever." He emphasized his point with a squeeze. Kurt had gone limp and still against him, running a frenetic hand through his hair with all the airs and mannerisms of a nervous horse. Blaine replaced his hands with one of his own to card silky chestnut hair through his fingers.

For a long while, they just sat there silently, until,

"Rachel was a huge mistake," Blaine said lowly, "You were right."

Kurt straightened up and looked him in the face, somehow still managing to look like himself even with red eyes and messy hair.

"I still shouldn't have ripped on you for it."

"No, but you were still right about it in the end. About me. She tried to kiss me. There was nothing. It wasn't even bad or repulsive, just… nothing."

"…did she seem upset by it?" Kurt asked reluctantly. He held no small amount of resentment and bitterness towards Rachel right now, but that didn't mean that he wanted her in agony; he'd seen her cry more than enough over Finn since they broke up. Blaine had the strangest look on his face, looking more bewildered and confused than Kurt had ever seen him.

"That's the thing, she seemed kind of…happy about it. She left the coffee shop talking to herself about how awesome her songwriting was going to get."

Kurt shook his head and facepalmed the best he could while still encircled in a loose hold that he wouldn't be trying to break on his own.

"Classic Rachel."

Blaine had to crack a smile at that and adjusted his grip to be more comfortable. Kurt wasn't protesting to it and he liked the way the other boy fit with him, like he was the perfect size for Blaine to hug. He hadn't realized until this week just how much of himself he'd unknowingly invested in his relationship with Kurt: good morning texts, eye rolls in practice when Wes got on a roll, hours spent flopped on someone else's bed talking about things that didn't matter.

The knowledge that above all, someone would unhesitatingly have his back, and the need and desire to reciprocate that.

Not having that for a whole week, despite having gone most of his life without it, hurt more than he thought that he'd been able to hurt.

And Kurt reflected that because it had hurt him too.

"Forgive me, because I'm an idiot and I have to ask. Did you…" Blaine trailed off, unsure of how he wanted to phrase this, "Did you mean it when you said you were in love with me?"

Kurt stared at him as if he'd grown three heads and tentacles.

"No, I go around saying that to everyone I know," he couldn't resist the mild dig, "Of course I meant it."

Blaine gaped and let go so that he could look Kurt in the face.

"Really?"

Judging from Kurt's expression, Blaine had apparently sprouted horns to go along with those extra heads. Blue eyes narrowed and Blaine backpedaled.

"No, I mean—why? Clearly, I'm an idiot. That's pretty much established. And apparently I'm also a total douche."

"Because when you're not being an idiot, you're wonderful," Kurt interjected unashamedly. It wasn't like he hadn't already thrown away his pride and dignity entirely, what was a little more embarrassment? "And I relate to you more than I have to anyone else, ever. And you try to be perfect but you kind of suck at it, and because you give enough of a damn to come after me even though I've been essentially shunning you all week. And because you know the level on Katamari that lets me roll up the most screaming people when I'm mad. But mostly? I just do."

Blaine was completely floored. He felt like he'd been given a gift, so precious and valuable and rare that he was almost too scared to take it, and Kurt was looking at him with the oddest mixture of sad, relieved, and knowing.

"Obviously, you don't have to do anything—" the taller boy was cut off when Blaine hugged him again, hard.

"I don't know what to do," Blaine whispered into the crook of Kurt's neck, "And I don't know what exactly I want. And I don't want to insult you, because you're amazing and I don't know if you know just how amazing. But I don't want this to happen again, because I'm selfish. I don't want you to ignore me anymore. You're my best friend and you make me better than I am by myself." He wanted to say so many things but they got stuck somewhere between his throat and the outside world.

For the first time in over a week, Kurt reached up to return the hug. He'd needed it even more than he thought he'd had.

"Please don't stop being my friend, Kurt. Please. Do anything else but that."

Kurt just closed his eyes and held on tighter.

Sent to: Blaine Anderson
From: Kurt Hummel

Good morning!
-K

Sent to: Kurt Hummel
From: Blaine Anderson

Mornin'! Looking forward to facing Wesley the dragon?
-B

Sent to: Blaine Anderson
From: Kurt Hummel

I fear no one. Tell him that at breakfast; I'll bring the whip and the chair.

Blaine Anderson had always looked at Kurt Hummel.

He'd always looked at him, always noticed what he wore, how he seemed like he was feeling, what game he was playing that day.

Subconsciously, he even sometimes noticed what or how much he ate (or how little depending on how stressed out he was).

Blaine Anderson had always listened to Kurt Hummel.

He'd always enjoyed the sound of his voice and admired how well he chose his words to say exactly what he wanted them to. He was a smart guy who gave relatively good advice and had a wicked propensity for learning languages and when he spoke, Blaine tended to listen.

Thing was, Blaine Anderson had always looked at Kurt Hummel but had never really seen him.

Blaine Anderson had always listened to what Kurt said and it never really occurred to him to consider what he didn't say even though that could be just as important.

That is, until Tuesday, when he did.

The Westerville Mall was way too crowded for a Tuesday afternoon, Blaine couldn't help but think as he avoided bumping into people. He held a large bag that in turn held a shoebox; his sneakers had finally died the day before and now he was the owner of a sweet new pair of orange converse.

Oh yeah.

He thought about texting Kurt with a photo of them because the other boy would cringe and lament over the fact that he'd bought something orange again but thought better of it. It'd be much more fun to wear them the next time they hung out and see how his face would look.

Blaine never liked seeing Kurt unhappy but there was just something so much fun about seeing him in that particular variety of dramatic agony, blustery and snarky and horrified.

Suddenly, Blaine Anderson stopped short in mid-step in the middle of the crowded mall.

He was hearing a very familiar voice from far away, but he knew that voice, clear and strong and bright.

He just didn't know why he was hearing it.

Curious and altogether confused, Blaine turned and followed his ears until he reached the other side of the mall. Once there, he froze.

There was a crowd of people surrounding them but he could very easily pick out Kurt Hummel standing tall and dancing freely like he was all by himself, his voice mingling easily with the two other boys with him, one in a wheelchair and the other with a mohawk. Mohawk boy was playing a guitar and the case was open next to them, slowly filling with bills from the appreciative crowd.

Blaine didn't recognize the song but he didn't need to because Kurt's face said it all, eyes shining and expression open like it had been all he ever wanted to be here singing to a crowd who didn't know him but somehow understood.

He never sounded like that with the Warblers.

Oh, he knew how to blend and was proficient enough with it but it was obvious that he never really liked it. Here, he wasn't a soloist either but it didn't seem like he needed to be. He wasn't blending but their three voices still worked together, able to be picked out and followed separately but still complimenting one another.

Kurt was smiling as he sang, beaming bright and proud and enthusiastic, and Blaine hadn't seen him look like that in any of their practices. He'd always been prideful, but never had Blaine seen him look so confident, as if he knew that feeling the music would be enough.

Blaine blinked and when he reopened his eyes, the glass wall slid down.

Blaine Anderson had always looked at Kurt Hummel but he'd never seen him before.

Until he did.

He wondered if he'd always been so beautiful.

On Wednesday, Blaine wore bright orange sneakers and earned disapproving looks and implied threats of detention from his teachers for it, but it was worth it to see the strangled look of fashion outrage on Kurt's face when he waltzed into practice with them.

On Thursday, Blaine leaned in and hugged Kurt in a moment of spontaneity and felt his heart race, hard and fast like a drum.

On Friday, Blaine didn't show up to Warblers practice because he was halfway across town, tormenting every florist in Westerville. He set his phone to vibrate and ignored the texts and annoyed calls from Wes (You're the soloist, how dare you skip practice!), responding only to Kurt's worried Are you okay?.

That night, he showed up at Kurt's front door, a nervous and shaky mess.

Burt Hummel opened the door, glancing from the anxious teenager to the cluster of red and yellow gaillardia in his hands. He sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose as if long-suffering, but nevertheless gestured to Kurt's bedroom door. Finn caught the exchange by sticking his head out of the living room, seeing the flowers, and shooting Blaine a double thumbs up with a waggle of his eyebrows.

All Blaine could do was swallow, his throat dry.

Kurt met him halfway up (or halfway down) the stairs to the basement, asking him immediately where he'd run off to and how Wes was furious and how he hoped he had a good excuse, only to have a ribbon-tied bouquet uncertainly thrust at him.

"T-they're called gaillardia," Blaine stammered. His voice felt faint and tinny in his head. "They're related to sunflowers and daisies and asters. I couldn't find any because it's still kind of winter and I had to go to about seven flower shops to even find these and I wasn't sure whether they were more like sunflowers or daisies but, uh…"

Kurt was giving him That Look.

Blaine took a deep breath and composed himself.

"Supposedly, daisies symbolize l-love. Love and loyalty. I…I'm sorry, I'm kind of really terrible at this. I told you I suck at romance."

It didn't seem to matter though because Kurt had taken the situation into his own hands and had dragged Blaine into a crushing hug, the petals of the flowers brushing the back of his neck and it didn't matter because Kurt was beaming just like he had when he'd been singing and Blaine felt like he was holding the sun.

It didn't matter that the door was open and that any minute, Burt Hummel was going to pop his head in and say something mortifying that would make Blaine stutter and Kurt turn red and glare. It didn't matter that Blaine had never been anyone's boyfriend and that Kurt had fading scars and overprotective friends. It didn't even matter that Blaine was going to get the dressing down of a lifetime in front of all the Warblers come the next meeting.

All that mattered was heat, the fizzing of tingling nerves, and the scent of flowers.

AN: Done! I really hope you all enjoyed this, especially you, OP! I know I kept you waiting a long time. Please leave a review if you liked this or if you want to slap me upside the head with a salmon for not being romantic enough.