Archive of Our Own

There is a split second when Blaine opens his eyes where he blissfully feels nothing. Then, it all comes rushing back before he can move, and it's an attack to his brain, an onslaught so upsetting yet still familiar, a daily occurrence. 

The dull ache that's always there settles behind his eyes and at the base of his skull. Waves of pain begin rolling through his body, crashing from his shoulders all the way down to his toes. Everything aches and simultaneously feels like it’s on fire.

Experimentally, he tries to lift an arm, but it feels too heavy. So, he lets it fall the few inches he's been able to lift it back onto the mattress, moaning at the prickles of pain it sends through his arm. His whole body feels like dead weight, almost as if something invisible is pressing his body into the mattress. 

Blaine moans, rolling his head to the side to check the time. It’s nearly eight, less than five hours after he was able to fall asleep the night before. That’s great.

“You okay?” Kurt asks, rolling onto his side, peering through groggy eyes. “I heard you moaning.”

“No,” Blaine replies softly. “Today’s really bad. What’s it doing outside?” He holds his breath as he waits for Kurt’s answer. He knows what he’s going to say, but he needs to hear it to prepare himself.

“It’s raining,” Kurt responds, letting the curtain fall and getting back into bed. “It’s really coming down.”

“I knew it,” Blaine says, more breath than air. “I fucking knew it.”

“Can I do anything?” Kurt asks, his brow creasing with worry. He knows that the answer is going to be no; it is nearly every time he asks. There’s nothing he can do, yet he asks every time, just hoping that the answer will change. Blaine’s felt like this before; he’s seen it, seen the pain in his eyes that moving just ever so slightly brings, and he never knows what to do. All he can do is feel bad.

“No. I can’t move yet. I’ll be okay.”

“Are you sure? I can help you up.”

“No. I can’t yet. Thank you.”

“Okay. Wake me up if you need me.” Kurt leans over and kisses Blaine’s cheek gently. 

“Thank you,” Blaine replies, trying not to move. He bites his lip as a few more waves of pain ripple through his body. He’s suddenly very hot, and he needs these blankets off of him. Now. Except he can’t move. “Kurt,” he whispers. “Kurt, can you take the blankets off of me?”

“Sure, honey,” Kurt replies, tugging the comforter away. “All of them?”

“That’s good,” Blaine says, feeling a gentle breeze across his skin. “Thanks.”

“Mhm…”

As Blaine continues to lay there, the pain washing over him, he thinks about what his life was like before all the pain took over, a life he can barely remember now. It’s been almost three years after all, and the pain has made his brain fuzzy, especially when he tries to think of his life without it.

It starts when Kurt goes on a Broadway tour for three months, playing the lead in Into The Woods. At first, Blaine is okay. He has his job as a children’s librarian, reading books and singing songs with the toddlers and preschoolers. For a while, it’s enough of a distraction to keep him occupied. But then, his boss begins to cut back his hours, claiming that with their building closing and their moving to a new, condensed site, there aren’t enough hours to go around. Blaine’s the newby after all, so he’s expendable. This means he is spending more and more time at home, alone, and his friends are busy. So, he is alone. A lot.

Then, one day, it happens. One day, he feels so alone that he breaks out his iPod, sits by the window, and sings the saddest songs he can find. Tears fall down his face as he sobs, doing his best to sing the words, feeling as though his heart is going to be ripped from his chest at any moment. Kurt, without meaning to, has left him, and Blaine can no longer handle the days and nights of being alone. That’s when the irrational fears he’s struggled with for as long as he can remember got louder. This is too much. Perhaps Kurt was right to leave me; this is what I deserve. I’m useless, lazy, stupid, garbage. I deserve this. I should hurt. Kurt should never come home. I don’t deserve him. The thoughts swirl through his head, unending, and his breakdown lasts for nearly an hour, the waves of tears and intense emotions ebbing and flowing like a tide.

A few hours later, as he’s getting ready for bed, he notices that his whole body aches. It’s pretty mild, no more than a little bothersome. He thinks he’s coming down with the flu, perhaps, or some allergies. He doesn’t say anything, just shrugs it off, calls Kurt, and goes to bed. He doesn’t let anyone know about his breakdown; it’s embarrassing and silly. Kurt loves him. He says so as he ends their phone call that night, and there isn’t a cell in Blaine’s body that makes him believe otherwise. Kurt’s always loved him, he knows. It’s just hard to remember at times.

He expects that he’ll feel differently in the morning, but he doesn’t. His body still aches, a bit more intensely now than it had before he fell asleep, and he’s a little bit alarmed. With the exception of the few times he’s had broken bones or torn muscles, he’s always slept off his pain. It never persists into the next day. Still, it’s business as usual; he tries to ignore the aching and go on about what he needs to do. Maybe if he doesn’t think about it, it will go away.

By the fifth day of constant pain, he realizes that something’s wrong. This never-ending, intense pain isn’t normal. He’s never felt this way before. His entire body feels like he’s been hit by a truck, every inch of his skin seems to be covered in invisible bruises, and doing literally anything makes the pain worse. He’s been working on a book, a fantasy thriller for tweens and teens that’s been toying with since he was a child, and typing on his laptop is so painful he has to take a lot of breaks. So, he decides to take a day to himself, watch TV, and relax. That will make him feel better.

But it doesn’t. So, on day six, his second full day on the couch, he researches as best as he can between waves of pain. He looks for every possible reason that he could be feeling this way, but the internet is less than helpful. Maybe it’s cancer, maybe it’s a brain tumor, maybe it’s all in his head. There’s one word that comes up over and over again, and after reading about it, he hopes to God he doesn’t have it. The disease? Fibromyalgia. When he looks further into it, he learns that no one really knows why it happens, it can have a myriad of symptoms that seem to be connected but may or may not be, and that there’s no cure. That’s what scares him the most. There’s no cure.

That night, when Kurt calls, he tells him. “I’ve been in constant, all-over pain for almost a week,” he whispers into the phone, his cheeks wet with tears. “I don’t know what to do.”

“Oh my God, Blaine. Why didn’t you tell me this before? Are you sure?”

“Do you think I’m imagining it? I can barely move, Kurt. It hurts to walk to the bathroom. I can’t even type without my hands hurting.”

“No, I--I’m sorry. I didn’t mean it like that. I believe you. I just...I don’t understand what could have caused this.” Kurt’s voice is tight with emotion. He’s always hated it when Blaine’s in pain. It makes him feel like shit, even when he has nothing to do with it.

“I might…”

“What do you mean?”

Blaine swallows hard and sighs deeply. “I’ve been doing research...it could be fibromyalgia.”

“What’s that?”

“A catch-all?” Blaine chuckles dryly. “It’s the name for having all over pain, unexplained exhaustion, and memory issues. All of which I have...I’ve had them for a while, Kurt. Not the pain so much but the exhaustion and memory problems.”

“I know...but, what does that have to do with knowing what started it?”

“From what I’ve been able to read, it can have an emotional or physical trauma trigger.”

“Did something happen since I’ve been gone? Did someone beat you up?” There’s anger evident in Kurt’s voice at the thought.

“Uh, no. My trigger wasn’t physical.” Blaine’s embarrassed, but he knows his husband has a right to know.

“What happened?” Kurt whispers, knowing that he’s going to hate hearing this and not being able to escape the feeling that it’s all his fault.

“I had...a breakdown,” Blaine admits slowly. 

“When?”

“Almost a week ago. I bawled for an hour, just sobbing. I was listening to music. I…”

“Blaine…” There are tears in Kurt’s voice. “Why didn’t you tell me?” He’s heartbroken. Why is this happening to the person he loves the most? How can this happen to...anyone?

“I didn’t want you to worry. I’m okay.”

“Clearly, you’re not!” There’s a long pause, and Blaine can hear scratchy noises through the phone. Then, “I’m coming home.”

“Kurt, you can’t! What about your tour? You still have a few weeks left!”

“My understudy will go on. I’m coming home.”

“You need to work--”

“I need to be home with you. I need to take you to the doctor, so we can figure out what’s going on. You can’t change my mind, Blaine. I’m coming home.”

“When?” Blaine only whispers the one word, but there are so many emotions in it: anxiety, hope, fear, relief.

“I’ll be home tomorrow. I’m flying out on the next plane. I promise.”

“You don--”

“I do. I’m coming home, and there’s no use wasting energy debating it.” There’s another long pause, then Kurt’s gentle voice comes back over the line. “Try to get some sleep, Blaine. I love you so much, and we’re going to figure this out together. I promise.”

“Okay. I’ll try.” There are more tears on Blaine’s cheeks, but he doesn’t care. Kurt’s coming home, and for the first time in six days, the pain feels just a little less. “I love you, too.” There’s a click as Kurt hangs up the phone, and Blaine does his best to relax back against his pillows. Somehow, everything’s going to be okay. His husband is going to fix this.

That week begins nearly two years of surfing from doctor to doctor, trying to find someone who will help him. Most doctors act as though he’s making everything up, especially after his blood work comes back without any indicators that something could be wrong with him. He goes through multiple CAT scans, brain scans, and x-rays, but nothing turns up. He’s told to take ibuprofen or Tylenol for the pain, use a heating pad, and to see a therapist. But, for the most part, no one thinks he might actually have something until one day, someone does. One doctor actually decides to talk to him. He asks about other symptoms, when they began, how long he’s been experiencing them, to describe his pain, and what seems to make it worse.

That’s the day, after two and a half years of struggle and hundreds of appointments, that Blaine finally gets his diagnosis, the one he doesn’t want to hear. “I think you have fibromyalgia,” the doctor says. “All your tests, for the most part, are normal. Let’s try to treat it.”

Blaine tries several different medications; a few of them help some but not enough to make a real difference. He can’t work anymore, can barely move around the house some days. On his good days, he overdoes it because he’s so eager to do all the things he misses doing every day. Then, he pays for it with a few terrible days of pain again. It’s hard to adjust, and some days, he doesn’t understand why he continues to live when his life no longer has any quality. It hurts almost as much as the actual pain in his body to see himself withering away when he still has so many things he wants to do.

Almost an hour later, Kurt wakes again to find his husband lying in the same position he was in when he fell asleep. “It’s really bad today, huh?” he whispers, running his knuckles gently over Blaine’s cheek.

“Yeah…” Blaine whispers, misty-eyed. “Really bad.”

“What have you been doing while you lay here?”

“Thinking. Remembering.”

“Thinking about what?”

“How this all started. What it’s been like over the years.”

Kurt sighs. “I wasn’t always very nice to you,” he whispers, adjusting himself against the mattress. He wants to see his husband better but not jostle him too much and make his pain worse.

“You just had a hard time. I couldn’t do much for myself, and you weren’t used to it.”

“I called you whiny! And, I accused you of lying.”

“And, I told you I thought we should get divorced because I was worthless.” Blaine does his best to smile. “We both had a lot of learning to do; this hasn’t been easy.”

“I could have been better. It’s my fault that you have this anyway.”

“Kurt…” Blaine says tiredly. With a great amount of effort, he rolls onto his side, facing his husband. He grabs his hands, holding on tightly. “You didn’t cause this. This isn’t your fault.”

There are tears in Kurt’s eyes as he responds. “I was gone, Blaine. You felt abandoned. How is that not my fault?”

“Look at me, please.” Blaine’s voice is soft as he speaks to his husband. “Kurt, you didn’t inflict this pain on me, and neither did I. You didn’t hit me a million times, you didn’t break my bones, you didn’t run over me with a truck, you didn’t bruise every inch of my body, you didn’t strike me with lightning. You didn’t do anything. My brain did this; this was my body’s response to a perceived trauma. You had no idea this would happen any more than I did. This is not your fault.”

Kurt sniffles a little as he listens then nods. “I know. I know all of that, but it breaks my heart to see you like this, constantly in pain. I want to protect you, look after you, and make you feel better, but there’s nothing I can do!” He bursts into noisy sobs then, burrowing his head into Blaine’s chest, mindful of how hard he presses.

“Shhh,” Blaine whispers, rubbing at his husband’s back with one slow hand. “It’s okay, Kurt. It’s okay. I promise. Every time you do something for me, you’re making me feel better and taking care of me.”

“What about the days when I poke and prod at you? When I push too hard, get annoyed, refuse to help? How is that okay?”

“You’re human,” Blaine replies, brushing at a few of Kurt’s tears. “You’re human, and you’re going to have days when you can’t deal with my neediness. I have days when I get pissed off at you, and I’m mean for no reason. But, do you know what we do on those bad days?”

Kurt nods. “We forgive each other.”

“Exactly. We forgive, and we move on.”

“I just don’t want you to hurt anymore,” Kurt whispers. “I want you to be cured. I want you to be able to do everything you ever dreamed of.”

Blaine chuckles wetly, tears building in his own eyes. “So do I. But, some days aren’t so bad. Some days, I can do a lot of normal things, and I only hurt a little. You like those days; we get to do fun things.”

“Like dates and sex,” Kurt whispers, kissing Blaine’s cheek again. 

“Like dates and sex,” Blaine agrees, catching Kurt’s lips with his own. “Those days are really good.”

“You haven’t had a good day for a while,” Kurt reminds him. “It’s been almost two weeks.”

“You’re right. It’s been bad for a while. But, it will get better.”

“What if it doesn’t?” Kurt asks. He feels silly needing Blaine to reassure him when it’s his husband who’s in pain, not him.

“Will you still love me if I never have a good day again?” Blaine asks instead.

“I’ll always love you,” Kurt responds without hesitation. “Always. No matter what. Through sickness and health, remember?”

“Then, I’ll be okay,” Blaine whispers, reaching out slowly to pet at Kurt’s hair. “As long as you still love me, I’ll be okay.”

“Promise?”

“I promise.”

There’s a long moment where Kurt just lays there, soaking up the warmth of his husband and the comforting touch of his hand in his hair. Then, he sighs and moves, rolling away from Blaine and getting out of bed. “Let me help you get up,” he says. “You can go to the bathroom, and I’ll make you some breakfast.”

“You don’t have to,” Blaine replies, watching Kurt move around the bed. He winces as he rolls to his back, the waves of pain slicing through him at the movement.

“I want to,” Kurt responds. “I want to take care of you.”

“Thank you,” Blaine says, giving his husband a smile. “I love you.”

“I love you, too,” Kurt says, leaning over his husband to kiss his lips softly. “Now, let's get you up.”

It takes quite a while and many breaks, but Blaine is finally on his feet, the pain a mixture of burning and needle-sharp stabs as he stands on his feet, holding onto the bed to keep his balance.

“Will you be okay if I go to the kitchen?” Kurt asks, standing a few feet away and watching Blaine carefully.

“Yeah. I’ll be fine. Thanks.”

“I love you,” Kurt answers, leaning in for another kiss before disappearing to the kitchen.

It’s a slow and painful journey to the attached bathroom, but Blaine finally makes it and does his business. He hates feeling like a 90-year-old grandpa, but he’s come to accept that some days, he can’t move any faster. He’s even got a cane for the bad days when he can’t avoid going out. He hates to use it, but he will if he must. The cane makes him feel a little bit like Alastair Moody. The real one, not the imposter. He even has Harry Potter symbols etched into it, a project he had been most excited about when he found the artisan at a local Renaissance festival. 

It’s another slow shuffle back to the bed, and he slowly eases himself back in, grabbing the heating pad to pull over his legs. There’s something about the dull heat of the pad that makes his pain more tolerable. He also slathers some Tiger Balm over the sore areas on his arms and shoulders. He’s come to love the smell of menthol and peppermint, and the tingle of the Tiger Balm is pleasant rather than painful now.

A few minutes later, Kurt comes bustling in with cups of coffee and plates of eggs and sausage. Passing one to Blaine, he climbs onto his side of the bed and clicks on the TV. “I thought we could spend the day watching our favorite shows,” he says, smiling at his husband.

“That sounds perfect,” Blaine replies. “Thank you for breakfast.”

“You’re very welcome, handsome. I love you so much.”

“I know,” Blaine says, grinning. “You’re going to spend the whole day saying that, aren’t you?”

“Yep. Better get used to it!” Kurt gives him a kiss to the cheek. “Now, should we start with Friends or The Office ?”

“ Friends . You are my lobster after all.”

“ Friends it is!” Kurt replies with another kiss to Blaine’s cheek.