The Guilty Ones 》Glee/Klaine ✓

18. (Un)Spoken Truths

"Finn, stop... just stop, Finn..." Blaine said with shaky breath. He knelt beside him, trying to steady him from shaking Kurt's shoulders. "Stop!"

"What do you suggest we do?!" Finn threw Blaine's hand off of him. "We can't just leave him here."

"We're not going to," replied Blaine. Though his mind was racing, he forced himself to be the clear-thinker, just as he had always been. "We'll try to bring him back to consciousness. If that doesn't work, we'll bring him home. Do you have a car here?"

Finn nodded, looking over his injured step-brother. "Yeah. It's out back by the music wing."

"Okay," Blaine took a deep breath. He shrugged out of his blazer and folded it up, creating a pillow to place beneath Kurt's head. "Do you have anything with a strong scent that we could try?"

The older teen thought for a moment. "My dirty gym socks are in Puck's locker. I don't remember the combo."

"Then we'll try something else. Go get some cold water," Blaine instructed.

Finn scrambled to his feet and rushed to the water cooler in the corner by the coach's office. "This water's out. I'll go get some from the drinking fountain in the hall."

While Finn left the room with a paper cup, Blaine further examined Kurt's body. He gingerly ran his fingers down the boy's chest, then stopped at the lump in his blazer pocket. His fingers wrapped around a cold, hard flask. He pulled it out, with just barely enough to slosh around the bottom of the container.

"Kurt..." he sighed with defeat, his fingers wrapping around it with anger. When he heard the door opening again, he quickly slid the flask into his slacks pocket.

"Alright, little bro..." Finn said, approaching. "This better work."

And with that, he threw a whole cup of cold fountain water onto the boy's beaten face.

The boy instantly spit the water from off of his lips and taking in a large gasp. His lashes began to flutter, and the glasz eyes reappeared.

"That actually worked...?" Finn mumbled. "Kurt, can you hear me?"

"Finn...?" he moaned.

"Kurt, oh my god." Blaine softly touched the sides of his face. "We're going to get you out of here."

He coughed. "Blaine, I–"

"Don't talk now. Don't say anything," Blaine cut him off. "Finn, I need you to go to your car and bring it around to the athletic wing. I'll meet you out there with Kurt and we can take him to your house. Or a hospital."

"Um are you sure? I mean I could carry him out there..." Finn said.

"Trust me, I got it," responded Blaine. "But you have to hurry."

Finn then disappeared again out the locker room door.

"Alright, let's get you up," Blaine instructed.

"Blaine–Blaine, I didn't m-mean–" Kurt started.

"Honestly Kurt. I don't want to hear anything from you. With the blood and the alcohol, you could've died tonight if I hadn't found you," said Blaine. He began to wrap his arms around the boy's shoulder.

Suddenly Kurt's bruised hand caught Blaine's arm. "I fucked everything up."

Blaine didn't know what to say. He looked at Kurt, and he blinked, but he couldn't think of a logical argument to that. This time, Kurt had fucked up, but Blaine really just wanted him to shut his mouth.