Macaroni:
"Sam, wait!" Blaine called Sam as he was leaving the locker room. The guys had just finished changing from their ABBA costumes and Blaine still had to tie his shoes. But he wanted to talk to Sam. He'd been wondering since the beginning of the week. It had been eating at him since he'd seen it and he needed to know.
"Yeah, man what's up?" Sam asked coming over to Blaine, sitting down on the bench next to him.
Blaine sighed and slumped in his seat, looking defeated and torn. He really didn't want to do this. But Sam was his best friend right? And he needed this. It was OK to feel this way and to need it. It was natural. His heart twisted as the words began to play in his head. Just say it, Blaine.
"Dude?" Sam waved his hand in front of the Cheerio's face. "You OK?"
Blaine took a deep breath sitting up straighter. Inhale. Exhale. Inhale. "Can I have the picture of Kurt?" Blaine kept his head down, not meeting his friend's gaze.
"Which one?" Sam asked trying to meet Blaine's eyes.
"The macaroni one," Blaine responded quietly, looking smaller than normal.
Sam inhaled to answer and Blaine groaned, knowing his friend was going to say something about this. "I know it's pathetic and stupid and It's been six months—oh god it's been six months—but I just really miss him. We haven't talked much—or at all really—since the wedding. He said we were gonna be friends and then we've barely spoken and I don't want to, like, bombard him with texts and phone calls and tweets and facebook messages, but I just want to tell him everything and how much we're fixing things here because I know he'd be proud and I don't even know. I think I'm just doing all this stuff to distract myself from the fact that he won't return my texts and I get that he's busy but I miss him so much and it's too much! All of it! Not being with him. Not being able to hold him and kiss him and tell him I love him and to have him tell me he loves me back and—"
"Dude! Calm down!" Sam interrupted the rambling.
Blaine slumped in self-loathing, his voice cracking, "I'm sorry. I know it's totally pathetic."
"It's not pathetic," Sam gave him a reassuring pat on the shoulder. Blaine sniffed and rolled his head back, as if gravity could keep the tears from falling.
"And I meant, which macaroni picture do you want? I have like five of him."
Blaine exhaled sharply through his nose, shaking his head in mock disbelief at his best friend.
.:.
Later that night, Blaine sat cuddled up on his bed, clutching Margaret Thatcher Dog tight to his chest. The dog's head was wet with tears, but Blaine hadn't noticed. Come What May was blasting through the speakers from his TV in his room while the macaroni pictures were placed around his room. One was in the red leather chair that Kurt has always loved as an accent piece. One was in his desk chair, where he and Kurt had poured over while scrapbooking. Another smaller one was propped up in the night stand next to Blaine's bed where he had kept the supplies for their alone time. A fourth was hung on the wall. Blaine had decided to take down one of the framed fencing photos. He'd put it up again later, but he wanted one mounted on his wall, the color of which had always brought out the green in Kurt's eyes which Blaine always loved because everyone knew they were blue, but he was one of the few that got to see them when they switched colors. The last picture was in bed next to him, tucked in on Kurt's side, where even after he hadn't slept over in a week, Blaine could still smell Kurt's shampoo and cologne on it, not anymore though.
Blaine ignored his phone, buzzing on his bed, as texts from Tina and Sam filtered in, looking for plans since it was a Friday night. What finally caught his attention was when Kurt's picture popped up.
Blaine's heart stopped when he looked at the phone.
Finally.