thecapitol | reach down your hand in your pocket

Entry tags:

reach down your hand in your pocket

Who| Blaine and OPEN
What| Back in Tribute Tower
Where| Common Areas
When| After his death.
Warnings/Notes| Blaine is looking for Kurt in particular, but he won't be opposed to stopping to talk to friends. He's just going to be a little antsy until he sees Kurt.

It was tempting to stay in his room and never, ever leave. After what had happened in the Arena he was almost hoping for that option, but he couldn't. He couldn't just hide without knowing what Kurt was doing. If he was back...

He had to be. If Kurt had turned out to be one of the few who never returned Blaine didn't know what he'd do with himself. That was why when he finally got up and got dressed went straight down to look through common areas of the Tower, searching for Kurt.

He still didn't look completely okay. While his clothes were put together and his hair was perfect, there was something a little wild in his eyes. The impulsiveness that drove him to Alpha's line of sight still lingered in the back of his mind. The sense of having nothing at all to lose had settled in him after watching Kurt die and he wasn't sure when it would start to fade.

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"Do you know what would be worse?" Blaine said with a serious tone. He felt tears stinging at his eyes but refused to let them fall. He had cried so much in the last couple of days and he was getting sick of it. "Thinking that you were out there dying over and over without me; dreading every cannon blast might be yours; seeing your face during the nightly recaps and wondering if you suffered. Knowing at least means that I know. Would you rather not know? Would you rather have no clue if I was alive or dead?"

The lump in Kurt's throat hardened and grew sharp edges. For a moment it was difficult to speak, and just as difficult to keep from running to Blaine and throwing his arms around him.

Instead he held utterly still, silent, white, carved out of stone. "Yes," he lied softly, and it was like his heart came unhinged.

Blaine was sure that he was going to die all over again. The pain in his chest was so severe there was no way he could survive it. It was worse than the moment after he had cheated, when he realized the deep and irreparable way he had damaged the one thing that he cared the most about. He couldn't help but wonder if Kurt would say this if he hadn't have cheated. If they were still together, would Kurt still be telling him that he wanted nothing to do with in the Arena? That he'd rather die alone than in Blaine's arms?

Rather than breaking down, Blaine straightened up and let the moment of silence settle between them. Once he was able to swallow he did and then nodded. "Okay," he said. His voice cracked a bit but otherwise he was able to keep his emotion down in his chest.

"But that's in the Arena, right? We're not in it right now so I can treat you to a coffee?" The more he spoke the more emotion he was able to keep out of his voice. "The food in the Capitol is pretty amazing and they don't skip out on good coffee."

Kurt hesitated, wondering if he ought to decline, but his heart couldn't bear much more. So he gave in, nodding and moving to Blaine's side.

He wanted to hold onto Blaine's arm, to just feel his warmth after what happened--to touch, to make sure he was still alive. Instead, he kept his arms tightly folded around himself as they walked.

Blaine wanted to grab Kurt's hand, to run down to the mess hall with him and lead him through the hallways. But that was too much like when they had met and made his heart ache.

Instead, he lead the way down with his hands in his pockets. "Is everyone back? Atticus? Lottie?"

"I met with Atticus," he replied softly. "I, um. I posted something on the network."

It was meant to be a hint, but he wasn't sure Blaine would catch on. Blaine was smart, but not--cunning. He was too chivalrous, too honest, too good.

Blaine looked concerned at that. "Who responded?" he asked, worried about him.

"It doesn't matter," said Kurt quietly.

It felt like something was rising up inside of him. He kept on walking until they passed a corner--dark and closed, off, out of sight--and he seized Blaine and pushed him into it. He threw his arms around him, hugging him tightly, trapping him in that hiding place.

"Listen to me," he whispered, his voice trembling. "We have to play parts. Like we're real stars, okay? We can't-- The sleeping bag can't happen again. They'll catch on. They'll hurt one of us. So please, no more protecting me. No more tears. Just fight for yourself. All right?"

Blaine shook his head and he held onto Kurt. "No," he said easily. "No I'm not going to do that. You need to watch the 74th Hunger Games, okay? Love isn't a weakness here. Even if the government tries to use it against us, if the citizens love us too then they can't get rid of us."

Eva's words still haunted him a little. While he wanted Kurt out of the Arena, he knew now that this wouldn't end with Victory. "Not everyone comes back after they die, Kurt. I can't lose you so I have to make sure they root for both us enough enough that they'd be sad if we were gone for good."

Kurt made a frustrated sound, pulling away and clutching Blaine's shoulders.

"You think it's gonna be just like that, and we're both going to win?" He shook his head. "We didn't win, Blaine. We died."

"And we'll keep on dying, Kurt," Blaine admitted as he looked at Kurt, trying to get him to understand. "It will keep happening over and over until we figure out how to best them. I think the only way we can do that is by working together."

He moved a little closer to Kurt again to put a hand on his arm. "Remember how I had to join New Directions so that we wouldn't be an opposing teams? That doesn't change now that the sakes are higher. We work better when we're on the same side."

"Blaine..."

Kurt sighed heavily. He didn't know how to make Blaine understand.

"We're not together. You know that, right?"

Blaine nodded at that and dropped his hand. He took a step back from Kurt. "I know," he said. "But that doesn't change the fact that I love you and want you to survive."

Kurt was quiet for a long moment. Blaine's words were so appealing that he almost forgot what point he was trying to make in the first place.

"What if one of us says something?" he said softly, finally. "Angers them? They'll use us against each other."

"We'll have to be careful," Blaine explained as Kurt asked those questions. "We'll do what we can to make sure the other one is okay and we'll do it." A pause. "I know we wanted to save our autobiographies for Broadway but I know if we're honest they'll fall in love with us." Or at least with Kurt.

He was too perfect not to completely sway them. It would just be Blaine's job to bring attention to all of Kurt's best qualities. He didn't like that all of the mistakes he had made would be under a microscope, but it would help to make Kurt seem like a tragic hero, surviving the worse in the Arena and in his personal life.

Distressed, Kurt just looked away, glancing around the corner, his eyes unfocused. Blaine was making sense, certainly, but Kurt couldn't tell if his idea really was a good one or if he was just trying to get them back together again. Regardless...

"You've been here longer than I," he said softly, shrugging.

Blaine nodded at that. "If you come up with a different strategy we can talk about it," he promised.

"All right," said Kurt, looking back up at his ex. "But how about not right now? I don't want to talk about the games at all right now."

He moved out of the corner at last, and a playful smile found its way to his lips. It may or may not have been entirely forced. "You were going to buy me coffee?"

Blaine grinned at that. "That's right," he said. "Come on." He pulled away from the shadows then to lead Kurt to the kiosk with the warm caffeinated drinks.

Nostalgia washed over Kurt like a warm wave. They could have been standing at the counter at the Lima Bean, tired after Warbler practice.

He stepped just a little closer to Blaine, wondering if he remembered his coffee order.

Of course Blaine did. It was one of those things he'd probably never forget. "Grande nonfat mocha and a medium drip, please," he told the blue haired woman behind the counter. She had on eyeshadow that sparkled as she moved and she grinned at the two of them knowingly as she made the drinks.

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