Kurt Hummel sat alone in his room, his roommates pleasantly vacant for once. He sat reading a book, trying to ignore the pang in his heart when one of the characters was introduced as having brown, almost hazel eyes, the imagine in his head making him uncomfortable.
Kurt wasn't sure how much more of this he could take.
It's been months. Months. He shouldn't still feel this way. Shouldn't still feel so empty, so lost and confused. Shouldn't be questioning everything, having what if? scenarios, or feel so alone. So hurt.
But he does.
And it's all because of him.
Blaine Anderson.
Brown, hazel eyes, curly, gelled black haired, short and olive skinned, Blaine.
God, he knows the boy cheated on him. He knows he was his high school sweetheart, the odds were against them anyways. He knows he could be happy with Adam, or any other guy he finds in New York.
They'd probably be healthier. Maybe he could find one that hasn't been bullied yet, or didn't gel his hair into submission. Or maybe one that isn't hobbit sized. One that didn't doubt their love just because of distance.
Kurt sighed. It would help if Blaine wasn't everywhere he looked.
Pass a clothes store, anything bright and colorful, polo, or even bowtie made him lose it. See a flower shop or a young couple on a date, remember several occasions with red and yellow roses. Well dressed people brought up Prom and Nationals. Hair products equaled raspberry scented hair gel, not to mention anything raspberry. Songs on the radio, just like singing Pink in the car together. Watch Moulin Rogue, Phantom, any musical; singing and acting them out with, or some cases for, Blaine. Wrist watches, yellow birds, red and blue combos and sharp blazers. People jogging remind him of Blaine's boxing regime, wondering if he kept with it and how cut it makes his body. Coffee, stuffed puppy dogs, heart shaped cookies and eye patches, too.
Blaine, Blaine, Blaine, Blaine...
It was like a ghost, following Kurt, haunting him, refusing to let him live.
"A ghost," he mutters, a humorless laugh escaping his lips. "Just what I need."
Sighing, he closes the book softly and walks up to his iPod, searching for the song that popped up at the mention of the word. If there's one thing Kurt Hummel has perfected, it's song therapy.
He breathes deep as the music begins, clearing his mind of all but the connection to the lyrics. To sing one's emotions is so much more cleansing then any other tactic.
"Turn my back to the door,
Feel so much better now.
Don't even try anymore,
Nothing left to lose.
There's a voice that's in the air,
Saying 'don't look back nowhere',
There's a voice that's always there.
And I'll never be,
Quite the same as I was before this.
Part of you still remains,
Though it's out of focus,
You're just somewhere that I've been,
And I won't go back again.
You're just somewhere that I've been."
There was no denying he's changed. Everyone changes; it's part of life. He changed so much after meeting Blaine, though. Blaine made him stronger, fiercer, prouder. Blaine made him kinder, more sure, more confident and determined. Everything he wasn't before Blaine, he had become.
That leaves quite the impression on Kurt, of course.
Then again, he changed when he came to New York, too. He was safer here; he was home here. It was so easy to go with the flow in the rush of the city, to leave all the bad memories behind and move forward in his life, something he had waited so long to do.
In all his haste and excitement, he didn't realize he was leaving all the good memories behind, too. Memories, and Blaine.
"And I'll never be like I was,
The day I met you.
Too naive, yes I was,
Boy that's why I let you in.
Wear your memory like a stain,
Can't erase or numb the pain.
Here to stay with me forever.
I'm breathing in, breathing out,
Ain't that what it's all about?
Living life crazy loud,
Like I have the right to.
No more words in my mouth,
Nothing left to figure out, but,
I don't think I'll ever break through,
The ghost of you."
There was so much he wanted to do, so much he had yet to say. How he didn't go a day without remembering soft kisses, gentle touches and loving caresses. How he still pictured him and Blaine whenever he had a wedding assignment at . How he couldn't help but picture Blaine in the halls of NYADA, taking it by storm and making him so proud to be his.
"One of these days
I'll wake up from this, bad dream I'm dreaming.
One of these days
I'll pray that I'll be over, over, over you.
One of these days
I'll realize that, I'm so tired of feeling confused.
But for now, there's a reason that
You're still here in my heart."
There was so much love he had left to give. So much life left to live.
And none of it was worth trying unless he had Blaine to share it with.
"I'm breathing in, breathing out,
Ain't that what it's all about?
Living life crazy loud,
Like I have the right to.
No more words in my mouth,
Nothing left for me to doubt, but,
I don't think I'll ever break through,
The ghost of you.
Breathing in, breathing out,
Breathing in, breathing out,
Like I have the right to.
No more words in my mouth,
Nothing left to figure out, but,
I don't think I'll ever break through,
The ghost of you."
The room weighed heavily as the final notes hung in the air. Kurt placed his head in his hands, his heart raging war with his head.
He had to see him.
Blaine Anderson was adapting. He accepted he had to live life without his other half, for the time being, and was functioning. He sung in Glee, he supported his friends, did his homework and helped his parents around the house. He called his brother weekly and planned and prepared. He did what he was suppose to and, yes he enjoyed them enough.
But was he happy? Content perhaps, but not happy.
He was happy when Kurt unblocked him on Facebook. He was happy when Kurt sent him a rare text. He was happy when Sam made a macaroni picture of Kurt, which you totally can't prove he stole. He was happy when he saw himself in a Cheerios uniform, remembering when Kurt wore one. When Finn talked to one of the guys about something Kurt had told him and he might have eavesdropped a bit to hear it.
To put it simple, Blaine enjoyed himself, but he wasn't truly living unless it involved Kurt Hummel. Since the moment they met, that was Blaine's life. It was set in metaphorical stone.
It did suck to be at McKinley though. For as much as he had grown to love the small-minded school, every single thing reminded him of Kurt. It was almost like Kurt's ghost was haunting the school, reminding and scolding him for what he had done.
As if he didn't do enough himself.
"I'd sing about it if I was in the mood. Selena Gomez is a lyrics queen," he mumbled to himself as he pulled into his driveway. It was Saturday evening and he had just gotten back from hanging out with Sam. For as fun as he was, the blonde was tiring and he just wanted to curl up with Margaret Thatcher dog and pretend it was last year and he and Kurt weren't broken.
So tired that he completely skipped over the fact that a highly familiar black Navigator was parked in front of his house.
"Mom, I'm home!" he called out, hanging up his keys and coat, heading into the kitchen where his mother was hunched over her laptop, cup of tea in one hand as her reading glasses balanced off the top of her nose. He pressed a kiss to her head as he passed, and she smiled softly.
"How is Samuel doing?" she inquired, finishing her column as she took out her stylus and signed 'Pamela Anderson' in her flowery script.
Blaine shrugged, grabbing a water bottle. "Nothing new to report."
She smiled at him. "Wonderful. Now don't have too much fun upstairs, alright young man?"
Blaine paused, looking at his mother with a raised brow. She smiled innocently, raising her cup to her mouth and taking a sip. Perplexed, tiredness won over curiosity and he continued to his room. He took swigs from the bottle every couple of seconds, putting the cap on just as he reached his room.
He pushed it open, his step faltering as he spotted a figure on his bed. His breath caught as denial and hope slammed into his chest.
The man raised his head.
The only sound was Blaine's water bottle dropping from his trembling fingers.
Kurt Hummel was just as painfully beautiful as he remembered.
Blue eyes scared but determined, that fierce fire that quivered his lip and heated his belly. Kurt rose silently, approaching Blaine cautiously like he was a tiny, frightened animal. Blaine watched in shock, his body startled when warm, soft, familiar fingers grasped his own and a gentle pressure tugged him to his bed.
He sat on it automatically, mind going haywire as he registered that he was holding Kurt's hand, they were sitting on his bed in his room.
Kurt. Kurt. Kurt. Kurt. Kurt's touching me. I'm holding Kurt's hand. Holy shit Kurt Hummel is on my bed again. Kurt. Kurt. Motherfucker I'm dead aren't I?
Kurt locked their gazes, face faltering slightly at the silence.
"You're here," Blaine whispered, voice filled with awe and question. He tried to keep hope at bay; Kurt wasn't here for him. Something might have happened to Burt. God, he hopped Burt was okay if he was.
He was startled when Kurt began to sing.
"Suddenly my cell phone is blowing up, with your ringtone.
I hesitate but answer it anyway.
You sound so alone."
Pale fingers reached out to cup his cheek.
"And I'm surprised to hear you say;"
Blaine felt tears threaten to well as he started to speculate where this was going. Seizing courage he didn't know about, he placed his hand over Kurt's, joining him just as softly.
"You remember when we kissed.
You still feel it on your lips.
The time that you danced with me, with no music playing."
Kurt smiled, hope shinning across his vulnerable face, laying his heart open.
"We remembered the simple things.
We talked 'til we cried.
You say that your biggest regret,
The memory you want to forget;"
Kurt grabbed his other hand, and Blaine squeezed it softly. He knew now.
He knew.
Is saying 'Goodbye'.
Saying 'Goodbye'.
Hmmm.
'Goodbye'."
And everything shattered.
Kurt leaned forward stunningly fast, Blaine meeting him halfway with equal desperation. Their hands flew to hips and hair, clawing and clutching and needy moans and whimpers broke from both boys, their lips bruising and battling with the other.
Several minutes passed before oxygen cockblocked them, and they pulled back far enough to lean their foreheads together, breathes mixing as they panted and continued to grasp at the other.
Blaine received his courage first. "Kurt?"
"I love you," he blurted out, looking completely sincere and even proud.
Blaine blinked at him in disbelief. "... Really?" he breathed, his heart becoming light and he swayed slightly.
Kurt was quick to place several more kisses on him, touching anywhere he found skin to reach.
"I love you, Blaine," he muttered across olive skin. "I never stopped, how could I stop, will never stop I swear to you."
Blaine clutched him closer, tilting his head further and letting Kurt lavish him in attention, in touches he craved for so long, touches he was convinced he no longer deserved.
"But... what about-"
"You were stupid," Kurt cut in, stopping his assault and leaning his cheek against Blaine's. "You were young and insecure and you acted poorly, but you aren't entirely to blame either. I can't stand keeping you away just because we were too naíve to fix our problems ourselves. I love you, and I can't stand not being with you anymore, Blaine. I'm done fighting."
There was a tense pause as his voice broke. "I want to come home."
Blaine felt his heart stop. Kurt... forgave him?
He leaned back, looking deep into those eyes he loved more than anything. He fumbled for Kurt's hands and gasped shakily, finally noticing something that made his heart swell and burst.
Kurt was wearing his promise ring.
In a sob powered by undeniable happiness, Blaine surged forward, cupping beautiful porcelain cheeks and locking their lips together reverently.
Later, as they laid in bed together, skin to skin and wrapped around each other like a twisted pretzel, Blaine pressed a gentle kiss to Kurt's temple.
"Welcome home, my love. I'll never let you leave again."