Disclaimer: I do not own Glee. But those weird things we keep hearing about the last season to come sometimes makes me wish again at least one of the great fanfiction writers did.
A/N: Let's blame tumblr and the beautiful gif sets you cannot escape there for what is to follow. Okay? Okay:)
A Rose
Chapter One
Kurt does not cry when he comes home and sees Blaine's stuff is all gone.
His eyes flicker to the red roses still looking all brand new in the vase on his bedside table. He cannot remember moving them there, but maybe he had not. 'Maybe Blaine did.'
It is a sudden urge to get them out of his sight that has him running around their building for 23 minutes until he finds a neighbor who gladly accepts such a generous present without asking too many questions.
Kurt had hoped it would change something, getting rid of this newest of reminders, … but it does not change anything.
Kurt does not feel anything.
Nothing but drained.
Usually he detests napping during the day, especially with all his early starts in the morning, it makes him all groggy and messes with his sleep in general. Today though he does not even think about any of that, as he, after slipping out of his shoes in a way that is sure to ruin them in no time were he to make a habit of it, curls up on his bed in the clothes he does not realize he is still wearing on skin feeling uncomfortable enough to drain all other senses.
And still he does not cry, not before he falls asleep, and not when he wakes up again, hours later. Not the next day, or that after.
Kurt just sits there, in that same chair by the door where he had been waiting for Blaine, one arm wrapped around himself, the other stretched to reach, fingertips endlessly touching almost prodding his lips.
It is five days later that Kurt finds himself sitting again in that very same position that it hits him, really hits him. Not just the sex part, but … where he is sitting, why he is sitting here – waiting.
Waiting for Blaine to come back and kiss away the ache in his chest and his stomach. His fingertips still tracing his lips as the thought punches the tears out of him with brutal force.
'Blaine has kissed someone else with those lips.'
And that desperate kiss by the door, roses in hand, '… our last kiss, … it was all a lie.'
Till that day it had never been a thought, not ever since the day they had gotten together, '… a life without ever kissing Blaine again.'
And now the tears won't stop. Sleep overwhelming Kurt first.
There had been no being prepared for this goodbye. Nor anything good about it. The pain more gripping by the second.
Sleep, unconsciousness, a temporary escape.
