Because of the layers...

cryblainecry:

hpkufanatic815:

muchacha11:

kissedmequiteinsane:

chrisspiration:

cryblainecry:

And all I see is Cooper after Sadie Hawkins?

The door slammed behind him as Cooper marched into his study, bracing his elbows on his desk, palms sweating and heart still racing even after having dropped Blaine off in the hospital.

“No, sir, we’re terribly sorry, but no visitors allowed during surgery.”

“He’s my brother! I’m family, I have to—Blaine’s—”

“He’ll be alright, sir, you have my word. But, please, we need you to calm down.”

His brother’s face, broken and tear-stained and blood-streaked as it’d been when he’d left him flashed across his mind and he let out a grunt, brow furrowing and upper lip curling somewhat in anger and frustration at everything. At the hospital, at those idiots, at Mark and the way he’d been able to run off while Blaine had been left to take the blows. At their father and their mother and the way they weren’t there when Blaine needed them.

The same way they hadn’t been there when Cooper had needed them.

And now he was all Blaine had and he’d failed him. A flash of red surged through his vision and Cooper growled and leaned up, shoving at the papers and files on his desk hard, sending them flying over the edge of the desk and fluttering onto the ground without a care in the world. Thin, soft, inanimate and unbreakable.

Not the way Blaine had been thrown off safety, bruised and beaten and ribs cracked and jaw split open and scars running in deep scarlet down his suit-covered back.

Human. Breakable.

Cooper balled up a piece of paper in his hand and tossed it aside before slumping his body onto a chair. He wanted to go after that son of a bitch and make sure he didn’t see the light of day again. He wanted to scream his lungs out and make Blaine okay and hold him in his arms where he could be safe, protected and loved.

But he had to be the bigger man, and it was killing him. Face buried in his hands, he ran them across his forehead and through his hair, breath coming out lightly bated through his lips, still somewhat dusty from where Blaine’s dirty shoulder had brushed as he’d carried his limp, crying form over to the ambulance.

He played with his hands, pictured another day where it would be okay for his brother to be who he was, where maybe he’d feel safe and cared for and free to be the spirited, gay boy that he was. Like the lines in his palms, smooth and faint and curving up like a promise of something good.

Something better.

And Blaine was alone like Cooper was alone and hands folded in front of his face he blinked the sudden wetness away and felt like he was drowning.

ARTI WHAT THE HELL

I am totally okay with having inspired this.