His skin crawled with recognition as they stood, facing one another on the platform, eyes clouding with a steeled half-acceptance.
Neither of them experienced the stinging sensation of the veil of easy rain falling from billowing, widening storm clouds. Neither of them heard the bubbling laughter of the people milling around them, waiting to board the train. Neither of them tasted anything but the instant and terrifying memory of each others lips, and the shocking reminder that kissing was not a pleasure that would be indulged in for quite a while.
"Just don't forget me?" The younger boy asked, his voice quiet, and small, and so broken. And that was how he felt. Like his heart was falling to pieces, and his eyes were filling with tears he didn't want to cry. He tilted his head downwards, biting his lips as the rainwater slid down the back of his neck. He didn't notice, and if he had of, it would have been incredibly unlikely that he cared.
And the other boy fixed his steely blue eyes on the single most beautiful thing in his whole world, and reached out two, shaking fingers to raise his chin, to level their eyes, to have one last, fleeting look into the heart of his soul mate. Such brown eyes, pupils drowning in goodbyes and unlived dreams, and the gentle, aching reminder that he loved him… and as his gaze caught a soft, overhead lamplight, the gentle flecks of hazel and gold fluttered to the surface of his iris, and all he could remember were the countless hours trying to count those tiny little flicks of colour, and his stomach twisted with the knowledge that it would be months before he could study them that intensely again.
It would be so many strung out days until he could wake up next to his boyfriend, and count the eyelashes resting on his cheekbones, twist his dark curls through his fingers, feel his heartbeat as his head laid across his chest… he would only have memories of the taste of his skin, and the feel of his lips, and the sound of that breathy moan shared between long, lustful kisses. And all of this would slip in and out of focus, between sharp clarity, and hazy, half lidded perfection.
"Blaine, I will see you in a few months, okay? I promise. I will Skype you, and text you, and call you. I won't forget you. Nothing could ever make me do that."
And then Blaine was looking, really looking at Kurt, in a way that he usually only did when they were curled up next to each other, sheets pulled around their torsos, eyes and lips and limbs a tangled jumble of desperation, and love… he saw that unnerving vulnerability. The way his eyes widened, and his pupils blasted, huge and black, and his lips fell apart, and his cheeks flushed, and that careful, constructed front was gone, and there was something so delicate, and raw, that he was afraid to touch him, for fear that he might break.
"I love you."
"I love you too."
And then, Blaine was on his tiptoes, lips brushing so slightly across Kurt's, and in the space of a second, hands were curled through hair, and tongues were trailed across lips, and eyes fluttered shut, and every sense was blown into the air, in an explosion of taste, and touch, and smell, and hearing, and sight, drinking in every wasted moment, until the sharp blow of a whistle broke the spell, and they regretfully drew apart.
"New York awaits you." Blaine, half smiled, wiping away salty tears, before Kurt leaned down, and kissed one off his cheek.
"I love you." Kurt said again, voice catching in his throat. "I really, really do. I'll see you soon." And it wasn't a question, or a throwaway comment… it was something so serious, and deep, and it meant so much.
"I love you too." Blaine whispered, before intertwining his pinkie finger with his boyfriend's for a fraction of a second… and then Kurt was turning away, and crying silently, and as he turned around, and saw Blaine bathed in a strange half light, a smile twisted onto his face, he was suddenly sure that they'd be alright.