"Kurt? You in here?"
His dad's voice drifts through the empty hallways, loud and clear. Kurt blinks his eyes open, waits.
A sliver of yellow light peeks in through the barely open door and he recoils away from it. Footsteps come next, a steady rhythm down the stairs that makes sense in its simplicity, until it abruptly stops as his dad appears in the doorway.
"Kid?"
His voice is unassuming, gentle, relaxed. Kurt knows that's the tone he uses when he's happy, but right now all he hears is noise.
"Dad?" He croaks, can't be bothered to clear his throat.
"Kurt?" Now, concerned, just barely. But Kurt doesn't know it yet, all he knows is his dad is here, saying something.
Something warm presses against his forehead, and it stings, but he doesn't know why.
"Are you even listening to me? What, are you sick?"
Am I sick? He thinks. The words loop in his head over and over, until they stop making sense and he makes himself stop.
"I... " What was he about to say? "-don't know. Dad," he adds, just because he knows this, knows his father even if he doesn't know himself.
"Kurt, what's wrong? Come on, kid, you're scaring me," Burt says, more harshly now.
Kurt reaches out a hand, pats the spare mattress beside him three times before pulling back. Exhausting.
Burt takes the hint, and sits, waiting expectantly.
"Dad," Kurt starts. Then stops, because he can't remember. He's supposed to say something now. Something important. But...
"You drunk?" Asked impatiently, like it wouldn't matter by now.
"No," Kurt says calmly, doesn't have to think about that one. "I'm not drunk."
"Then what? Drugs? Someone attacked you? Blaine break up with you? Jesus, just say it kid," Burt grits out. His heart is pounding now, he's scared, has always known what his son does and doesn't do and he's never been in this place where he doesn't understand what's going on.
But Kurt is scared too.
Blaine. Now he remembers. "Yes," he whispers.
"Yes to what?" Burt demands. He's already reaching for his phone, mind screaming instructions at him, call an ambulance get your keys call Carole-
"Blaine broke up with me. He cheated on me. We broke up. Dad."
There's silence. Kurt can hear his beating heart and blood rushing and tears dripping and stomach churning and he can hear his own sobs but it's silent.
He doesn't understand; is he crying, or not?
"Kurt," his dad whispers, and he manages to make it sound comforting even though even Kurt can hear the heart-wrenching pity in that single word. "I'm so sorry."
"He cheated on me. I love him but he cheated on me, Dad. He cheated on me," he whispers, and the words taste so bad, he wants to vomit. Probably already did that, though.
"I know, kid. I know," His dad says heavily, so heavy Kurt can feel the words settle over his chest, but it doesn't hurt.
He wants his dad to keep on talking, to keep on fixing this when he knows he'll never be able to.
"I don't understand."
He curls up on himself, and this time he knows he is crying because he can feel the tears sliding down his face, his chin, his neck. He can feel his heart tearing in two, he can taste the pain on his tongue and it's like someone's carving into him with a spoon.
He doesn't understand.
"Thanks, dad," Kurt mumbles into his shoulder.
"You sure you don't want to stay?" Burt asks. "Just a few more days?"
Kurt expected the question, and it still makes him want to cry. Because he wants to stay, and it's like every cell in his body is tied to his home with his dad and he's tearing himself away from where it's safe, cutting strings and ripping pieces of his very heart in the process. He can't let himself think, or he'll find a way to stay.
Blaine cheated on him. He has to move on.
"I'm sure," he manages, and all Burt does at hearing the catch in his voice is hold a little tighter.
New York is changed when his plane lands. Blaine's presence is everywhere. He remembers every street they walked down, every pretzel stand they stopped at, every corner they stood at to take pictures together. It's almost like he can smell their shared cologne or feel their twined fingers when he walks past the tree they'd lazily made out against, open and honest and free.
It leaves him gasping for breath and gagging into a nearby trash can.
When he arrives at Bushwick, he's exhausted from holding back all his feelings, and he promptly collapses into Rachel's bed to cry a little.
A little turns into a lot, because Blaine left behind one of his bow ties and it's slung across the room over the headboard of Kurt's bed. He drags himself towards it and throws it into the trash can.
It's dark when Rachel appears, and she takes one look at him and drops everything, rushing to his side and holding him close.
Finn, Kurt asks, but she just shushes him and rocks him in her arms. It makes him cry a little harder.
When Kurt tries to be angry, he sees Blaine whispering I love you into his skin. When he tries to blame it all on him, he hears Blaine casually saying he's been feeling lonely lately.
But when he tries to justify this, to see another angle of what happened, it's like hearing him confess all over again. It's like being kicked in the stomach.
So he lets it be, and does his best to ignore everything, only succumbing to the tears when they are absolutely necessary, when he just can't hold them back.
He strips the apartment bare of Blaine's things. His fingers itch to discard the bed sheets, which somehow, someway, still smell of Blaine's shampoo, but the empty savings accounts and linen closet stops him.
Rachel is perfect; she knows just the right moment to distract him, knows when to subtly retreat, when to casually reach for his hand.
It all leads to himself believing he can get himself out of this place he's in, thinking that in two more months things will be back to being normal.
In two more weeks, I won't want to cry when Jersey Shore is on.
In three more weeks, I'll be able to wear those jeans Blaine loved so much.
In four weeks, I'll stop thinking that guy isn't cuter than Blaine.
And so on and so forth.
But the worst part is being an ex-boyfriend. He can't help his mind from darkly muttering, you are Blaine Anderson's ex-boyfriend. You are an ex.
Kurt hates this.
It's been three weeks.
The jeans Blaine loved so much are long gone, given away to some charity. Jersey Shore is still not so-stupid-it's-funny.
But it's okay, Kurt thinks, over and over. Just a few more months.
When he first hears The Blaine Song, he's waiting in line at the supermarket, and runs out, doesn't look back.
It doesn't help, though. That silky smooth voice still echoes in Kurt's mind when he's carefully dabbing at the lonely tear that's managed to escape past the corner of his eyes.
The awful part, however, is that The Blaine Song comes in multiple volumes.
There's the songs they'd constantly teased each other for.
"Remember when you sang that song to me?"
"Which one? Was it-"
"Noo, Blaine! Shut up, I'm trying to-"
"But Kurt, I love you so much, let me sing it for you!"
Then, of course, the ones that made Kurt feel like he would never have to be alone. Which in his mind meant never have to be without Blaine.
"Thank you for that song today. 'was nice."
"Mmm, you're welcome. I meant it. Love you."
Finally, the ones that, no matter where he is or what he's doing, make him stop and listen because they remind him so much of Blaine it's like he's right there next to him, chattering non-stop about some silly little thing he read or saw or learned.
"I heard this song today, it reminded me of you."
"Which one? Come on! I deserve to know."
"I don't know it's name, I'll look it up later. It was pretty."
"Is that your way of saying I'm pretty?"
"Blaine."
"Sing it for me. Please? Please, please please? Aw, please, Kurt? Please. Just hum it. Hum it. Pretty please? I love hearing you sing, pleaseee-"
So when Kurt walks in to his and Rachel's apartment, finds her nestled in the couch doing an assignment and listening to the radio, his arms go loose and his head snaps up.
It takes a while to listen to what the words of the song are saying.
"I don't want to, won't let myself, I have to realize. This might be, this could be, this is goodbye."
When he does, he stops breathing for a few seconds, waiting for something to happen. He expects tears, or something tugging at his chest, that piercing hollow in his stomach that had taken weeks to shake off after the brake up.
"Find a way to close the door, and be okay with nothing more, but-"
Rachel is staring at him now, greeting smile still on her face but slowly being replaced with a kind look, but Kurt doesn't really notice that.
"You broke me, you left me, there was nothing I could do."
If Blaine hadn't cheated on him, Kurt would pick up his phone, dart off a quick text. Listen to this song, made me think of you. 3
But then, if Blaine hadn't cheated on him, they'd be together, and this song would be just a meaningless melody for him, a forgotten track on his stereo.
So it crashes upon him, all of a sudden.
The Blaine Song can't be some happy, upbeat ballad anymore. It can't be one of those love numbers used to exchange words of love, promises of forever.
The Blaine Song-His Blaine Song-it's a goodbye song. It's a song people sing when they're leaving someone behind, when everything is over and finished and done.
Because Blaine's gone.
"This is goodbye."
The End.
A/N: The song Kurt hears on the radio is called Goodbye. It's a really pretty song. 'The Blaine Song' of course are all the songs Blaine has ever sang to/with/about Kurt, like Teenage Dream, Somewhere Only We Know, Perfect, and all those other songs. Along with the ones you've always thought they should sing to eachother, so that's why I wanted to leave it generalized. Thank you so much for reading and I really hope you liked it. :)