Loverboy (Fanboy #2, Klaine)

Chapter 8 ~ Doritos

I remember exactly where I was. What I was wearing, what show I was watching, the cup of iced coffee Blaine picked me up making the blanket damp.

I remember my phone sitting in the snowy ocean of that blanket. My ringtone, which I changed from the Human chorus to one of the Apple presets.

I remember that I almost let it ring out. I was so comfortable, did I really have to reach out and answer it? It was my dad, which was the only thing that forced me to roll my eyes and press answer.

If it was Carole, I might not have answered.

I might not have answered.

But, of course, I did. I put the phone on speaker, goddammit, because I was too lazy to even bring the device to my ear.

"Hey dad," I had said. So casual. Why was I always so casual?

I had been living with Blaine for a month. I was a waiter at a mom and pop diner and refused to let Blaine help me financially. We shared a room. Every night when he got home from work or from a meeting or conference, or after a lazy day at home, we would curl up and fall asleep in each other's arms, touching so gently with so much compassion that nothing else mattered.

He didn't respond after a second. I was about to hang up, he probably butt dialed me again, but I heard a sniffle.

"Kurt, my baby," he said, his voice moist and shaky.

"Dad, Dad what's wrong? What's going on?" I set the drink down and muted the TV. My mind went into panic mode, imagining my worst nightmares coming true.

"I, I would rather tell you this in person. God, I'd rather not tell you at all, but-"

"Dad, what happened."

"Your brother," he said, and when he paused to sniff, my heart collapsed in on itself.

No.

No.

No.

No.

No.

It wasn't denial, I believed the news. The same word went over and over in my head, screaming and taunting me because it was so unexpected.

Finn, my brother, my best friend. Healthy, cheerful, athletic,

Why the fuck did he have to die.

It's impossible to describe what losing someone that close to you feels like. Your mind goes not to the person, the beautiful amazing person, as a whole, but to the small things about them. You create a grocery list of all the things that they did with you, for you, things that they said or things that they gave you.

Finn. His little half smile that could come off as a smug smirk to some but to me it was the smile that meant I love you and I don't know what I would do without you.

And then you realize that you have to live the rest of your life without this person and you just picture them and what they would be doing right now if they weren't so dead.

And you cry and you cry because your stupid alive body makes water come out of your eyes when the rest of you can't do anything because your brother is dead.

When Blaine got home that afternoon he found me sitting at my desk in our room, knees hugged to my chest and three used tissues sitting on the wood in front of me. My hair was a mess and my vision was blurred.

Fucking Blaine hugged me like it was his brother that was dead even though he had no idea that my brother was dead and he didn't ask he just hugged me and we sank to the floor and I cried into his probably very expensive t-shirt.

We sat on the floor, I sat crying for what felt like seconds or hours or years or no time at all.

"Kurt," he said, asking the question that I could barely bring myself to answer.

"It's Finn," I replied, wiping my eyes.

"Your brother?"

I nodded.

"What happened?"

I took in breath in ripples. I told Blaine what my dad told me. I couldn't even look at him when I said it.

Blaine insisted we take his jet back to Ohio the next day.

It's crazy how your favorite things and favorite people can put you in the opposite mood as favorite things should when under certain circumstances.

Hugging my dad was one of those things.

If felt like Finn should've been there to join in.

But instead, I felt Carole wrap her arms around the two of us. It felt wrong.

Blaine insisted, after many attempts of me telling him otherwise, to stay with me for the week while we organize his funeral, attend it, and start to sort through all of his things.

The last thing anyone wants to hear is the details of someone's funeral.

So I'll spare the details. The endless tissues. The crying, the looking around the room to--

never mind.

My dad gave a talk. I didn't pay attention. Carole gave a talk. I stared at the wall. The only thing I felt that whole damn funeral was longing. Blaine's fingers intertwined in mine didn't feel like enough, and I hated myself for not being grateful.

All I could picture was Finn sitting at home watching football with a bag of doritos and that smug look on his face and then picturing the empty sofa with no Finn and no doritos and no fucking smile.

That's when I started to cry.

The following four days were the longest days of my life.

I missed my brother.

Staying in my old room, I felt lonely. I lay awake, Blaine in my arms, staring at the ceiling and just being so confused. I thought about every mean thing I ever said to Finn, every time I turned him down for throwing a football or taking a walk or anything.

"Yes," I said. "Yes."

I had cried so much that week I was surprised I was able to pee. 

--

hey y'all. a hell of a lot of stuff is happening right now, i just finished school (yay!) and a bunch of other things are  going on.

i'm really sorry for not posting longer chapters, but i just don't have the time recently. once summer starts to cool down they will be more lengthy! (also sorry if this was depressing, writing is how i get emotions out, and i've been going through a similar situation)

if anyone wants an update on my hopeless love life i'll comment that here :)

stay strong guys xx