Page 173 of Hurt

Kurt stuffed his hands in his hoodie pocket. He suddenly felt jumpy. It was always like that when he felt like someone was looking too closely. Hidden from view, he let his fingers twiddle with each other.

“…what do you want me to say?” he snapped.

The moment he said it, he regretted it. He did promise Willow he would be more honest, more open. But how could he tell his sister everything that was going on in his mind? That he had survived the battle only to discover he was fighting a war?

Kurt closed his eyes and gritted his teeth.

“I…don’t have what you have,” he haltingly began. “When you think about Roland, you get the dumbest look on your face—like he’s the best thing in the world. Like you have no doubt about the way you feel about him. And I don’t…” he huffed. Words were hard.

Willow cocked her head like she was somehow making headway with what Kurt was saying.

“You’re worried you don’t love Grant?”

Kurt couldn’t meet her eyes.

“I’m worried I can’t.”

There was a softening in Willow’s eyes. A trace of pity she tried to hide but couldn’t. Willow didn’t know the full story. No one did. Grant got the abbreviated version the night Kurt tried to kill himself, but the full details would remain with him alone.

Kurt would forever be a museum of things he wanted to forget.

Ezra had drawn blood. He had broken bones and ripped the flesh from him. But the worst thing he ever did was take his capacity to love. Kurt had never been touched by someone with love. Had never given himself the chance to feel something. Grant had made his feelings very clear, and he had never asked for anything in return, but Kurt still felt like he was in limbo.

Did he stay with Grant because he loved him or because he felt safe with him?

“You know, not every relationship is the same,” she started. “Everyone loves differently. If this is about sex, then—”

“Please don’t.” Kurt shook his head.

He didn’t want to hear it. Not again. Not the same shit the doctors told him at the hospital. The same spiel that was in every book and article he had read.

“Tell me why you like sex.”

That surprised her. “Well.” She searched for what she wanted to say, eyes trailing down to her toes as they curled on the peach-colored sheets.

“I guess I like it because of all the usual reasons—orgasms make my body happy and my brain go brrrr.” She shrugged as if it was the most normal thing in the world. “But with Roland, what I really like is being so close. It’s a kind of…physical intimacy that you can’t get with just a hug. A vulnerability. Like we’re giving ourselves over to the other. Connecting in a way that is more than just an orgasm.”

It was an earnest answer to a question he had asked out of spite. He hadn’t expected that, and it made him think.

Kurt’s complicated relationship with sex notwithstanding, he had almost no experience with the act. After Ezra found him, he had no desire to even touch himself. It was impossible to seek personal pleasure when you couldn’t stand the sight of yourself.

And now? Now he couldn’t even stand in the kitchen with Grant because the thought of his breath on the back of his neck made every muscle in Kurt’s body clench and shudder. So no, having sex with Grant wasn’t exactly in the cards.

But did he want to?

Willow steered the conversation back to safer waters. They spoke about Noah and about Willow’s music. With the TV flickering on the wall and the chill in the air, it almost felt like everything was okay.

Kurt slammed the cabin door behind him and tossed his keys in the general direction of the table beside the door. The plink of metal on ceramic told him they landed in the bowl beside the gun Grant kept.

Snapping oil and hissing steam came from the kitchen. Grant was tossing spices into a pot while consulting a thick cookbook. A wet finger trailed along the glossy pages as he read the ingredients out loud. Grant might be the only man alive who still used a hard-cover cookbook for dinner.

The whole cabin smelled of roasting pepper and onion. Kurt kicked off his boots and let his bare feet smack against the rough hardwood floor.

Grant heard him and looked over his shoulder. “Where are your socks?”

Kurt snagged a piece of raw red pepper, biting into it. “Left them in Roland’s pillow.”

The tall man rolled his eyes fondly. For a moment, it looked like he wanted to reach out and touch Kurt, but he stopped himself. He always stopped himself.