Live Through This [Kurtney fan-fic]

Let It Die [PT. 4]

“Honey?” I call out as I pick up the bouquet of roses. As I inhale their strong, sweet aroma I get a small smile on my face. No matter how angry I get with Kurt it never lasts long, he’s too much of a sweetheart. I begin to think he’s left the hotel room entirely when he doesn’t respond but after a few minutes of waiting he appears in the bathroom doorway. He tucks a long stand of unwashed hair behind his ear and saunters over to me.

“Is Frances all settled?” He asks while taking a long drag on a freshly lit cigarette.

“Yeah, she’s fine. You know you didn’t have to do this,” I gesture towards the flowers and champagne, “I wasn’t expecting anything.”

“I did it because I wanted to, Courtney, not because I thought I had to.” He stares at me with pleading eyes and I stare right back. I don’t know what I was expecting on the way over but it definitely isn’t what I’m looking at now. Shirtless and worn out flannel pajama pants have always been the norm for Kurt’s around the house attire but tonight something was different. He had dark bags under his eyes and stubble on his chin that hinted he hadn’t been sleeping very well. He didn’t look much like my husband… he looked sad.

“Well they’re great,” I try to reassure him by breaking the silence, “Really, thanks.”

“Good,” He gives me a weak smile, “I wanted tonight to be special, you know, since things have been so shitty lately. I want you to know I still care about us, about our family. I’m really trying here…” He trails off and starts fiddling with the foil on the champagne bottle. Eventually he tears it off and pops out the cork, taking a short swig before handing it over to me. I follow his lead and tilt the bottle to my mouth as he attempts to continue: “It’s just hard to be here when I want to be home. I feel like I have to force myself to preform and it never used to be like that. Something’s wrong with me, it’s like I’m constantly distracted with wondering how things are back in Seattle.” He shrugs, “When I’m not with you I’m thinking about you. I love you.”

By this point we’re both forcing back tears. I feel all sorts of emotions suddenly spring up out of nowhere; guilt being the main one. How could I be so horrible to my own husband to make him feel like his family doesn’t think he cares enough to try for them? Well it ends now. I wrap my arms around his neck and he lets his fall around my waist. Our eyes meet for a brief second before we end up tangled at the mouths in an intense kiss. It goes on for a couple minutes before I break free and rest my head on his boney shoulder. He buries his face in my hair and sighs out another “I love you”.  We stay standing in the middle of the room, embraced in a tight hug, for a few moments before he pulls free and takes my hand, leading me to the bed.

I fall back onto the crisp, white sheets as he crawls on top of me. He innocently brushes some hair from my face before roughly kissing me. It’s so powerful, I feel it through my entire body and I wonder if he can too. Oddly enough it’s like our connected lips have also connected our thoughts and we both start giggling.

“Why are you laughing?”

“I don’t know,” he smiles, “Why are you?”

“I don’t know!”

The kisses soon start creeping down south; first to my neck and then my chest. I let out a low moan as he places his hands firmly on my hips. I feel so secure with him, maybe even too comfortable. Before I can even register what’s going on the effects of my afternoon valium hit me full force. My arms and legs suddenly start to relax and my head quickly becomes cloudy. It doesn’t take long for Kurt to notice either.

“Courtney?”

“Hmmmmmm…”

“Are you, uhm, alright?”

“I’m fine,” I manage to mumble before I let out a gigantic yawn, “I’m just tired from, uhh, you know, the trip and everything. I just need a minute to rest.”

“Oh.” He flatly replies while sliding off from on top of me. I try and keep my eyes open but it feels like they’re being weighed down by five pound weights. Within minutes I fall into a deep, dreamless sleep.

I wake up with a horrible pounding in my head. I look over at the clock: it flashes 3:03 am. I sit up and see a large, dark figure curled up at the end of the bed: it’s Kurt. I crawl on over to him and try and shake him awake, eager to pick back up where we left off. He doesn’t wake up, though. I glance over the edge of the bed, lying there on the floor is a few bare pill packets and the empty bottle of champagne. A lump forms in my throat as I, once again, try and shake him awake.

“Kurt!” I scream, “Come on, Kurt! Wake up!” I pound on his chest while tears start streaming down my cheeks, “What the fuck did you do, you idiot! Wake up!”

I wipe my face with the back of my hand to try and clear my vision. It helps just enough for me to notice a couple papers hanging from his pajama pants pocket.  I pull them out one at a time, the first being a thousand dollar banknote and the second a torn piece of paper, on it written “You don’t love me anymore. I’d rather die than go through a divorce.” Did he really think I fell asleep on purpose to avoid having sex with him, because I no longer loved him? That’s ridiculous! I flew all the way out to Rome to be with him, for fucks sake!

“I’m not letting you die!” I yell as I jump off the bed and rush to the phone.

“911 what’s your emergency?”

“I need an ambulance!” I scream into the receiver, “I need one now; I’m in The Westin Excelsior and my husband is dying!”

“Okay mam, I’m going to need you to calm down,” the operator firmly requests, “Can you tell me what happened to him?”

“Pills,” I sob, “He tried to kill himself with pills!” I turn around and stare at his lifeless body hanging over the bed. How can this be happening?

“I’ve sent an ambulance,” the man assures me, “They will be there soon. I’ll stay on the line with you until they arrive.”

I’m not interested in talking to him anymore, though. I drop the phone and run to turn on the lights. I burst out into the hall and start slamming on all of the doors surrounding ours. Finally one of them answers. It’s a tall man who doesn’t look very thrilled to have been woken up at three in the morning.

“What the hell? Are you some kind of nut? What are you doing making all this racket?”

“You’ve got to help me get my husband to the lobby, he’s overdosed and I have an ambulance on the way but I can’t drag him down there by myself!”

The man’s angry face switches to one of concern as he follows me back in the room. He tosses Kurt over his shoulder with ease, which doesn’t surprise me considering how skinny he is, and we make our way towards the elevator.

“Please, God,” I pray the whole way down, “Please don’t let him die.”