ittlebitz:

naomiraven:

making-klainebows:

danrdarrenc:

blainetheasspirate:

#I can’t with this #he just looks so uncomfortable #he looks so uncomfortable and I just want to know WHY #I want to know why his brow is furrowed the entire time and why he keeps moving around his hands like he can’t figure out what to do with them #like he can’t figure out what to do with HIMSELF #it’s one thing for him to be feeling sad about what’s happened to Dave #but it’s another thing to look downright ANXIOUS when people he cares about start discussing suicide #don’t even get me started on the way he hooks his thumb over to cover his wrist in the bottom left gif #and the way he’s putting so much pressure on it that his shoulders shift #like there’s something there on that wrist that he’s ashamed of #don’t get me started on it #just don’t #all I know is that Blaine Anderson is not okay and I want to know WHY

Kurt had noticed it before, of course he had.

He’d explored every part of Blaine’s body, had mapped every curve and dip and sharp angle with his fingers, mouth, and eyes, but he hadn’t really noticed it until now. Before today it was just another mark, just another faint scar among many.

It had never meant anything until now. Until Kurt had seen Blaine press his thumb against it in the auditorium. Until Kurt had looked at Blaine’s eyes in that moment. Until he had seen the few unguarded seconds of remembrance.

It wasn’t just another faded scar. It was a memory. A memory that was still as sharp in Blaine’s mind as the day it had been created. A permanent mark on his skin. A permanent reminder. Kurt had never asked about it before because there wasn’t another one like it.

There wasn’t a matching one. He’d checked.

Therefore Kurt had brushed it aside. Let it go.

Just a coincidence that it happened to be there and shaped like that.

Kurt curled into Blaine’s warm, sleeping body, so vulnerable like this yet when awake the strongest person Kurt knew. How many times had Blaine picked him up and dusted him off? How many times had Blaine carried him? How many times now had Blaine saved him?

Kurt closed his eyes tightly, buried his face in Blaine’s neck, and let himself feel each breath Blaine took. His chest pressed flush against Blaine’s back, their legs tangled, his arm wrapped around Blaine’s waist, hand splayed across Blaine’s chest, over his smoothly beating heart, his lips pressed against the matching thrum of Blaine’s pulse in his neck.

Blaine’s head was resting on Kurt’s pillow, long dark eye lashes brushing his cheeks, mouth parted slightly as he breathed small puffs of air. His hands were beside his head, one hand underneath it, and the other curled into a lose fist on the pillow.

Kurt could see it in the soft glow of the lamp they had left on, and he reached out to wrap his other hand loosely around Blaine’s wrist, thumb stroking back and forth over the faint white line that had never really meant anything to him before now.

Now it meant everything.

Blaine sighed and rolled over into Kurt, eyes blinking open sleepily, a soft smile on his lips as his arms wound around Kurt’s waist. “Mmm love you…” he whispered, pressing his lips against Kurt’s collarbone before snuggling closer again, face buried in Kurt’s neck.

“Then never leave me,” Kurt whispered back against Blaine’s mess of soft curls as he held him tightly.

“Never,” Blaine murmured before his breathing evened out once again, and after a moment Kurt finally allowed himself to relax into sleep, wondering if Blaine would remember his promise.