are you okay?
Never in his life has he felt more like a cliche. He might not have even seen such a cliche before, and that was saying something. But here he was, soaking wet from the rain, his skin decorated in bruises and scrapes that were still getting darker. He’s been kicked all to hell and fought just as hard, but in the end he lost and now just looked like some junkie wishing he could find a place to stay dry long enough to light a cigarette. He’s not even sure if he has an addiction, but he uses regularly enough to fit the bill of this particular scene and that’s what counted. What fun. More importantly, he couldn’t go home and be seen like this. Under normal circumstances – normal usually being coming down from whatever he used or more rarely drank, and/or having successfully left with and ditched some sad stranger – he could just slip in through his window and be perfectly fine in the morning. This wasn’t like that though. It wasn’t even one of his late night escapades. The day was peaceful and sober and there was always less temptation to do things he shouldn’t. It was after eight or nine he’s pretty sure because of his timing on going home and when he was grabbed but after that…
He knew there might be some trouble when he started hanging around that guy, he just didn’t think it would end up like this. Kurt wound up on his bad side for a few days without anything but some glares sent his way until now.
He’s pretty sure that he’s in shock, honestly. Bits and pieces of the evening were coming back in waves while others escaped him entirely. For the time being he had to hope his autopilot would just let him walk aimlessly and thank god that it was only drizzling now.
Blaine held out inside the small cafe he’d met Trent at with hope that the rain would die off so he could make a dash to his car without getting soaked to the bone. A half an hour later? So much for a weekend trip to Lima so he could spend the weekend with his aunt and uncle –and simultaneously brainstorm ideas for Regionals after talking them into letting Trent spend the entire weekend there– ending on a good note. If he wanted to get home in any timeframe before midnight–he had to go now.
Groaning, he cursed the fact that he forgot to bring an umbrella. Desperate times calling for desperate measures. He bought a paper to use as a makeshift umbrella. Sure the idea was dumb possibly. He knew going into it that a pressed together pile of papers was only going to delay the inevitable. Stepping out at the first sign of the rain lightening up a bit with his poor attempt at cover instantly sagging overhead–the Warbler started jogging the two blocks between him and his car, keys poised in hand with his thumb on the fob. Splashing noises came up from his loafers squishing bare feet inside grossly against the soles. Oh that just felt awful! His nose crinkled at a particularly loud smoosh! that he swore he could feel up both legs.
The rain let up to a drizzle but his soggy newspaper had yet to be lowered when he caught sight of a vaguely familiar person wandering towards him. It brought him to a stop–head cocked to the side and a puzzled expression burrowed his brows as he tried to connect the dots. A snide comment about Dalton Boys popped into his memory. The Lima Bean and a boy who caught his attention first by his look and then had him baffled by what came out of his mouth. Kurt? Yes. Kurt. What was he doing in the rain? The closer he got, however? Blaine’s confused smile turned into a concerned frown as he noticed the state he was in. Then it hit the bottom of his shoes once he got a good look. “Um–Kurt,” he asked letting the paper and his arm fall to his side. “Kurt–is that–Hey do you need help?”
pianokeysandbowties 