Bonjour, I'm Susan, new to this whole "fan fiction" thing. This is the first thing I've ever written, not only for this site, but for fanfic in general. I used to role play, and I feel like I kind of tied that into my writing style, except it's a story of one author…if that makes any sense.

The plot's pretty easy to tell, Kurt's knight in shining armor left him for a new fair maiden, and in a mixture of humor, romance, angst, friendship, hurt, comfort, and Mike Chang, well, just read, and you'll figure out what happens next.

I'll be posting more chapters soon! Please review, and be as harsh as you want. I'm a dapper infant when it comes to this.

DISCLAIMER:

I don't own Kurt Hummel, Blaine Anderson, Glee, or anything else mention here. Well-I do own a copy of 'Marley and Me', but someone else can take it if they want.

Enjoy!

Kurt Hummel crawled into the nest that had been once called a bed. His accumulation of pillows of all fabrics and sizes were compacted snugly around him. He slammed his head back, hitting the headboard and wincing. His giant quilt was wrapped around his long body tightly as he grabbed for another Klee-nex, noisily blowing his nose into it. A hand rubbed his knee in an attempt to comfort him.

It'd been six months, two weeks, and three days since he'd started dating his first boyfriend, Blaine Anderson. Five months, one week, and five days since he'd first told him he loved him, and realized he really did. Three months, two weeks, and four days since they'd first spent the night together. Two months, one week, and six days since they'd first had the conversation of living together after high school. One month, three weeks, and four days since Blaine'd first said he wanted to grow old together with Kurt, because he'd love him forever. One month, two weeks, and five days since Blaine'd stolen Kurt in the middle of the night, whisked him up to Westerville, Ohio, and ordered Chinese and run to the drive through together, in the last romantic gesture he'd ever perform towards Kurt.

One month, one week, and one day since Blaine had broken up with Kurt, broken his heart, and gone AWOL in terms of his life.

Two hours since he'd gone to Breadsticks with Finn Hudson, Sam Evans, Rachel Berry, Mike Chang, and Mercedes Jones, and seen Blaine saunter in with Wes Montgomery, David Thompson and a Scandinavian-looking blonde Kurt'd never seen before. The second Blaine put his feet on the welcome mat, Kurt locked his blue-green eyes with him, and everything he'd forgotten about the night a month, two weeks, and one day ago came crashing back.

Kurt and Blaine had met up at their favorite hole-in-the-wall, like any other day. Heavy downpour ran down the glass panels on their coffee shop's walls. The local pop station seemed to keep a steady beat with the lightning flashing outside, as if they were tuned into eachother in some trippy techno music video. They'd made it inside before they could be fully drenched, but Kurt kept his hands wrapped around the cup fiercly in an attempt to warm at least some of him up. He'd never though he'd actually appreciate the flimsy cups that practically burnt your hands when you picked them up. He stole a glance at Blaine from across the table. His boyfriend's never-leaving-his-body Dalton Academy blazer fit him right in every way, unlike the expression on his face. Until recently, Blaine had always carried a dorky, impish (rather sexy) look, his adorable smirk and gelled-to-death curls that clogged the atmosphere's pores every time Blaine opened a can of hair spray. His hazel eyes usually either carried a slightly drowsy look or a subtly playful glance that sometimes bounced into them. Tonight, however, his vision looked sharp, the closest thing you could get to a glare without putting any anger into it. Kurt noticed that Blaine's teeth were grinding, and his hair had been overdone more than usual. He flashed back to a memory of Blaine telling him once that when he was about to do something he was scared of or something he'd regret, he delayed by doing his hair for long periods of time. Kurt estimated that you could get more grease out of Blaine's hair right now that you could out of a French-fry boiler at Burger King that hadn't been washed in two years. He didn't know where that sat on the Richter Scale of Hair Gel, but he wasn't getting a good vibe from it.

The evening had been full of Blaine staring into his medium drip, extra sugar and forcing small talk. Kurt sat across the table, rethinking everything that had happened that week. Blaine's texts had been rather unflirty, he'd noticed, but that could mean anything. Maybe he was overdramatizing, but he had been thinking about the fact that he hadn't seen Blaine in almost two weeks. He'd asked him if they could get together a good four or five times the last twelve days, and he'd shot him down each time. Never any reason, just a quick "Sorry, can't tonight, some other time." At least he'd kept that informal promise, asking Kurt to coffee earlier that day. He'd been a little put out when his expectations of a date that would make up for all the failed meetings had instead turned into a silent, awkward rendezvous.

But things were kind of heavy
You brought me to life
Now every February
You'll be my valentine, valentine

Over the café speakers, Katy Perry's Top 40 song "Teenage Dream" began to blare. The apples of Kurt's cheekbones were soon covered in blush, a slight smile playing on his lips. "Remember when we met for the first time? You sang me this very song."

I can't sleep
Let's runaway
And don't ever look back
Don't ever look back

Blaine peered up from over his cardboard cup, and squinted his eyes as if trying to figure out what Kurt was talking about. Finally, his eyes returned to their semi-glare, "Right. The Warblers performed this for the students."

I finally found you
My missing puzzle piece
I'm complete

For the second time that night, Kurt was let down. He'd expected at least a grin, maybe an invitation to put his hands on his skin tight jeans, or him singing along to maybe a few bars. Instead, Blaine had simply returned to sulking back into his mindless fiddling.

I might get your heart racing
In my skin-tight jeans
Be your teenage dream tonight

Kurt reached for his boyfriend's hand and looked him square in the eye. If there was one thing Kurt Hummel was good at, it was staring. When he was young, his father told him that he used to randomly pick out someone in a crowd or restaurant and stare them down until they left. In middle school, Kurt had tried to break his impulse to stare after a young seventh-grade Puck came over to him, punching him in the gut and ordering him to quit freaking him out. He never really was able to drop the habit, and once he got into high school he realized that his stare helped him pick up on things other people didn't, simple details in the fabric no one else noticed. So, as much as Blaine attempted to avoid eye contact, he wasn't able to. Leaning across the table so that he was almost nose-to-nose with Blaine, he started to speak. "Blaine, is there something wrong? You're not acting like yourself. Is there something wrong at home, or at school? You know you can tell me anything. Right?"

Blaine gave up trying to take his hazel eyes off Kurt's and stared back "No, everything's okay at Dalton and with my family. But there's something I need to tell you, and I want you to know that it's not easy for me to say this."

A lump had developed in Kurt's throat. He had a feeling that he knew whatever Blaine was going to say, he wasn't going to like it.

"After you went back to McKinley, the long distance became difficult for you and me. We hardly get to see each other anymore, and that's really strained the relationship." Oh, God, please tell me this isn't what I think it is, Kurt thought to himself. He felt his eyes damped at the edges. He wanted to scream out that he'd asked him to hang out many times, and Blaine'd said no to all of them. "I don't really know if the spark is still here, either. We'd kind of developed into um, routines of sorts." Yes, Blaine. That's what people in relationships do. Kurt frantically mused in his mind. "Nothing really, well, exciting about us as a, like, couple anymore." Blaine ran a hand through his heavily gelled locks and rested his forehead on his fist. Squeezing his eyes shut, he continued. "I guess what I'm trying to say is, there's someone else, too.'

With those last four words, Kurt felt his heart crack into a thousand pieces, and the gooey love, fantasies for two, and romance spill all over his fitted Alexander McQueen charcoal-colored jacket. Shit, that wasn't his heart; he'd dropped his coffee, soaking his expensive designer garment. The coffee sunk deeper and deeper through the fabric until he could feel it on the skin of his chest. It mixed in with the sweat he'd suddenly perspired. Blaine'd found someone else…wasn't that his worst nightmare? Maybe that's where he'd been the last few nights, hooking up with his new boy toy, laughing at the thought of his stupid little boyfriend, sitting at home in his kilt fretting over his baby Blainey this, Blainey that. Who was he? Was it a new student at Dalton that he hadn't seen before? Someone he met at a concert he went to without Kurt? Was it a clerk at the Gap? Kurt imagined a strong, tall, masculine Native American guy, with seductive brown eyes and a killer smile. Maybe an Irish-looking hot nerd with bright red hair and perfectly placed freckles, where Blaine could kiss each one individually. Stop, Kurt. Quit imagining him, stop it, stop it, stopistopitstopitstopit. Tears sprung from Kurt's eyes, mixing in with the sweat and coffee. He automatically threw his hands over his eyes. He didn't need to embarrass himself on top of everything else. Even when Kurt didn't get solos he'd worked his ass off for, or when tacky-colored frozen slushies were thrown all over his clothes, or even when Karofsky had pressed his dirty pig-like lips on his, stealing his first kiss, Kurt never cried. Being himself already made him vulnerable enough.

Blaine's voice started up again, and Kurt looked over his fingers at him. God, what else did he have to say? "I think we should break up." He looked over pitifully at Kurt, suddenly everything about him despicable. His dwarfish stature. His skin pale from spending his entire time playing guitar and showing off for his stupid friends. His disgustingly gelled hair messed up after running his freakishly small baby hands through it so much. Who did that, besides Robert Pattison when he was trying to pull off his angst-y vampire fan girl look? Suddenly a thousand bitter thoughts ran through Kurt's mind, until he remembered that he'd never run his hands through Blaine's loose curls again, and he turned into emotional chaos again.

He couldn't take another second of this. The empathetic look on Blaine's face was something he didn't need. He said not a word, grabbed his messenger bag and stood up out of his chair. "Kurt, wait, can't I talk to you a little bit about my part in this?"

With that, he broke into a run out of the café, and didn't look back.

I'll try to get the next chapter up by tonight! Au revoir!