Blaine walks down the street, the walkway lit by the artificial orange light of the streetlamps. His hands are shoved deep into his pockets, the gloves he's wearing are holey and worn. His scarf is bedraggled and torn. His coat is in a hardly better shape but he feels content. This pathway is familiar. He's doing what he was meant to do so long ago. He sees the house in the distance and something lifts inside him and he feels, for the first time in a year, hope.
One year ago.
Kurt is screaming at him, his face screwed up. It's only hours after Burt's funeral and Blaine was waiting for this. Waiting for Kurt to snap. He's just as frustrated and feels worse than hurt because Kurt's been pushing him away for weeks and why won't he just let him in?
"Blaine." Kurt whispers finally, voice hoarse from screaming and yelling. "I can't do this to you anymore. I can't have this and try to keep this up with you. I can't . . ." Kurt gasps, and it takes everything he has not to wrap himself around Kurt.
He knows when he's not wanted. He knows everything he's had with Kurt these past two years has been beautiful but Kurt doesn't want him.
That hurts.
"You don't want me." Blaine clarifies, voice breaking and God, why was he so weak?
Kurt's eyes widen. He stays silent, mouth agape, tear's still falling so softly without him even noticing. Blaine could never get over how Kurt could cry so beautifully.
"No, Blaine. That's not it-"
"It's fine, Kurt. It's fine."
It's not. It won't ever be, but he doesn't stop when Kurt lurches forward and tries to say something. He doesn't want to hear futile lies to spare his misery. He doesn't want to hear that from Kurt, of all people.
So he leaves.
He should have done this a year ago. He should have walked this path toward the house, not away. He walks until he's standing in front of the house. He looks up at its apparent emptiness but he knows what's inside and his heart simultaneously clenches and lifts with the thought. Blaine had missed this house and the warmth it used to hold. He knows who's in there and he knows how horribly wrong this could go but at the thought of seeing him again—even if it's him throwing something (like a rock) at him—his heart grows five sizes and his breath catches.
Half a year ago.
It was inevitable really. He went to a college not far from New York for a degree in music and the arts. He was dirt poor and living with three other guys in a tiny flat. Thank God all of them were gay-friendly because at first the thought of sharing a tiny, barely breathable space with three guys had terrified him.
It was inevitable he would see Kurt Hummel again.
He'd heard about Kurt from some of the New Directions crew he still kept in touch with. Mercedes had said he'd gone to some arts college not that far from Blaine's and at first Blaine had been bitter and thought that was so ironic. To be so close to his first boyfriend when the two hadn't spoke in months. At first he didn't realise those feelings were one's he'd pushed to the front of his brain to hide that really, his heart was beating painfully hard and a weight he'd hadn't even known was there lifted from his shoulders.
Both of them had always had the same dream; to sing, to live through their music. Both had lived for that dream and had lived for it through each other. In some ways though, Blaine had felt he'd dreamed Kurt's dream for him and had ever lived his own. It was one of the many things they'd argued about before Burt's death.
He'd forgotten though how overwhelmed Kurt made him feel when Kurt sang.
He went with Matt- one of his flatmates- to a bar not far from their college. In no way did he go to watch Kurt sing there. Nope, not at all. In fact, he'd lied through his teeth when Matt had asked him why he was so adamant to go. He'd never been, that's all. He just wanted to see what it was like.
He'd sat through the two and a half hours of Kurt singing, Kurt crying silently as he sang, Kurt laughing and bantering with the audience, Kurt slowly peeling off his leather jacket to reveal a white, tight tank top and Blaine nearly imploded.
Blaine knew Kurt knew he was there—but Kurt didn't look at him once. Blaine felt angry and hurt and ashamed and had left the bar in a huff, Matt long gone, when he'd heard his name.
He'd turned. Kurt stood in the doorway, sweaty and hair slicked back and clutching a bottle of water.
"Blaine?" Kurt said again, looking shocked and white under his red flush.
"Hey, Kurt." Blaine murmured, scratching at his neck. Oh God, was he blushing?
And then he'd fled.
Blaine takes a breath. It's cold out and his breath makes a cloud of mist in front of him. He searches around in the near darkness on the floor until he finds a big enough rock.
Feeling foolish and way to cheesy for his own good (and God, was he really doing this?) he threw the rock in the direction of the window above him. The rock landed with a clatter against the glass.
He held his breath.
A light flickered on inside. Blaine's chest tightened and his hands spasm nervously in his pockets.
A few weeks ago.
He knows Kurt's dated people after him. Mercedes had told him so (and she looked like she'd regretted it a lot when he nearly threw the cup of coffee he was holding against the wall). He'd got that, he really did.
He just didn't really get it until he was at one of Kurt's shows (he went regularly now and didn't think it creepy or desperate at all thank you very much) and saw Kurt kiss a tall, broad shouldered man afterwards. He'd stood in the doorway to the shabby bar and watched; Kurt wound himself around the man and eagerly returned the kiss.
He'd thrown the beer at the door and stormed off back to his flat.
His flatmates had known not to speak to him and he'd simmered for a few days and then went to Kurt's show in a local bar. He watched him sing and he longed for Kurt and that voice again.
He cries sometimes. Sometimes because he misses everything. Sometimes out of shame, or out of self-pity. He pulls off the chains he's wrapped himself tightly in and lets himself go in a dark room surrounded by strangers and one boy that has always meant everything to him.
One show had finished late and Blaine didn't realise it had ended until the barman had ushered him out. He walked out of the beer-stained door (being careful not to touch it) and was met face to face with a sweaty Kurt (Blaine had thought desperately to whatever mighty being up there that did Kurt always have to be sweaty when they met? And wearing that tank top?).
"Blaine." Kurt had said and Blaine knew immediately that Kurt knew about his frequent visits to his shows.
"Kurt." Blaine hadn't been this close to Kurt since they'd broken up nearly a year ago. It made him equally uncomfortable and ecstatic.
He really had to stop falling for pretty strangers because in the end they'd promise him everything and he'd serenade them with pop songs and love songs and kiss them and go to their fathers funerals and love them with everything he had and they would just break his heart in the end. Pretty strangers and their promises they never kept.
"You saw me the other night, didn't you?" Kurt asked shrewdly, picking at the wrapping on his bottle.
God, Blaine didn't think he'd miss those fingers and how they'd play staccato rhythms on his skin—
"Which night?" he choked out, tearing his eyes away and landing them somewhere over Kurt's head.
"When I kissed Robert."
Blaine just nodded. Robert. God, what a stupid name.
"Blaine?" Kurt says, and he sounds almost pitying. Blaine narrows his eyes. He doesn't want Kurt's pity. He never did. He wants Kurt.
They are silent. Blaine looks at his shoes and contemplates running, like he's always done with Kurt. Run from his feelings, run from his when it got too much. Just like he did when they broke up—
"You know, I've only ever dated people to get over you." Kurt says, voice raking at Blaine's spot where he can't help but reach out to people. Kurt's voice sounds so broken and hollow that it hits that exact spot.
Blaine's too dumbfounded to realise though.
Kurt nods and he begins ripping the paper off the bottle. "I've never got over you."
He laughs and Blaine flinches.
"You've got to stop coming here, Blaine. I don't think I can concentrate on anything but you anymore."
Blaine's still dying and bursting at the same time and he watches Kurt walk away for a moment before he realises what Kurt just said and he almost yells "Let me take you out for coffee!"
Kurt stops. He turns and smiles sadly at Blaine. There's a beat.
"Maybe."
He's been wrong. Wrong for giving up Kurt. That's probably why he's here, about to humiliate himself to no end and Kurt will never let him live this down but if it means he wins Kurt then he'd happily do it a thousand more times.
He takes Kurt for coffee.
He stepped out of his shell he hadn't realised he'd been wearing and actually lets himself be himself with Kurt. He smiles and cherishes and stores away every smile Kurt throws his way. He stares at him for far too long as Kurt talks, those beautiful cerulean eyes still so expressive and warm.
He had to literally stop himself from lunging across the table and pressing his lips hungrily to Kurt's. He had to refrain from placing his hands over Kurt's slim ones and pressing them softly to his cheeks. He had to bite the inside of his cheeks to keep himself from babbling how much he still loved Kurt.
He did. He loved Kurt and he'd never really stopped. One never really does stop loving Kurt Hummel once you begin—Burt Hummel was proof of that.
Blaine had missed him like he was oxygen or light. There was a Kurt shaped hole in his chest that nothing—not even his music—could replace. Kurt had been the centre of Blaine's world in the best possible way and without him it was like gravity had shifted.
It was never something that could go away. He couldn't kid himself that this was some teenage love. He'd fell for Kurt long after Kurt had fell for him but that didn't take the specialness away from that moment his lips had touched Kurt's for the first time. Blaine had found himself to be co-dependent of Kurt once Kurt had left him to go back to his old high school. They'd kept it up and Blaine wouldn't change any of it—the arguments, the firsts, the every moment he'd lay on the grass in the Hudson-Hummel's back garden staring at the stars he'd happily have got for Kurt.
"I'd do the stars with you anytime." he'd sang, twining his fingers with Kurt's so many years ago, the sweet smell of dew resting on the grass and the tickle of Kurt's hair on his cheek.
He needed Kurt.
He'd walked him to his beaten up car and Kurt had lounged on the door and Blaine had to physically root himself to the tarmac to stop himself from grabbing Kurt's scarf and pulling the tall, slim boy to his chest and ravishing the pink mouth smiling invitingly at him.
"I had fun." Kurt said simply, eyes squinting slightly from the glare of the sun.
Blaine watched for a minute as the light hit Kurt's cheeks and sharpened his cheekbones. "So did I."
He couldn't help himself but damn, Kurt looked beautiful, so he leant forward and pressed his lips softly, softly to Kurt's.
Kurt made a small noise of surprise and drew back. Blaine immediately stammered out an apology but Kurt's lips were on his again and Blaine forgot how to think for once.
The warm and wet feel of Kurt's lips was gone all too soon and Blaine actually whimpered.
"God freaking damn it, Blaine Anderson." Kurt said, breathing heavily after their kiss. "Don't you dare make me fall for you again."
And then he'd got in his car and drove away.
Kurt looked sleepy and bedraggled as he appeared at the window and looked down, his mouth forming a perfect 'o' at seeing Blaine standing below.
Kurt struggled with the window for a second and then opened it with a huff.
He looked down at Blaine, who was lit by the orange streetlamp, for what felt like forever. Then, face soft and voice quiet, he hissed almost sternly, "Blaine. What the hell are you doing here?"
Blaine took in a breath, the coldness clearing his head. "I should have done this years ago, the day you told me you didn't want me anymore." Blaine whispered up to him. Kurt's eyebrows crawled up his forehead and he leant forward, mouth ready to say something.
Blaine started singing.
"A love struck Romeo, sings the streets a serenade
Laying everybody low, with a love song that he made
He finds the street light, steps out of the shade
'n' says something like, "You and me babe, how about it?"
His voice is low and husky from the tears threatening to unfold and he tries not to be put off when Kurt clasps his hands in front of his mouth and his eyes widen. He carries on singing, low and slow and stretching the lyrics out to make Kurt listen.
Blaine had spent the past two days trying to find the perfect song and finally, finally he'd got it. He'd replaced some lines with others and skipped a few verses but he was going to sing it anyway.
"Juliet, the dice was loaded from the start,
And I bet, then you exploded in my heart,
And I forget, I forget, the movie song
When you gonna realize, it was just that the time was wrong, Juliet?"
Kurt disappears and Blaine stops singing for a minute and then the front door of the house opens and Kurt stands there, looking weak and tired and adorable in his t-shirt and sweatpants and fluffed hair and Blaine grins before he can help himself and a bit louder, he sings that last verse.
"Can't do the talks, like they talk on the TV
And I can't do a love song, like the way it's meant to be
I can't do everything, but I'll do anything for you
I can't do anything 'cept be in love with you
And all I do is miss you and the way we used to be
Juliet, I'd do the stars with you, anytime"
He repeats the line he'd said to Kurt so many years back and by now he's on Kurt's doorstep and Kurt's looking at him impassively, tears falling in rivulets across his porcelain cheeks.
He looks at Kurt and says, as quietly as he can without crying pathetically like he wants to, "All I can do is love you. I never, ever stopped loving you. I left because I wasn't going to force myself on you and that's the biggest mistake I've ever made." Oh God, and now's he's crying and his voice sounds high and strangled. "I just made the biggest fool of myself. I serenaded you with a song called Romeo and Juliet, no less."
Kurt chuckles watery, "You do know they both die in the end, right?"
Blaine smiles too, but his heart is breaking just slightly because Kurt still hasn't said he liked it and maybe yeah, this was the stupidest thing he's ever done—
And then Kurt's kissing him, and oh.
Kurt breaks away, hands folding themselves in Blaine's hair and his chest is melded with Blaine's own and he thinks they can't get any closer though he'd certainly like to try—
"I never meant that." Kurt is saying, and Blaine just searches blindly for his lips again but Kurt giggles and pulls back. "I never meant I didn't want you. I was so mad you thought that. How could I not want you, Blaine?"
Blaine stops trying to kiss Kurt and says quite eloquently, "Huh?"
"I didn't want you to leave. When I said I couldn't keep up with you I meant I just couldn't watch you comfort me. I wanted someone to not feel sorry for me. When my Mom died everyone was constantly reminding me of her death. I'd be fine and I'd have just for a minute had forgotten because I was happily playing when someone would come along—with good intentions I'm sure—and say, "Oh, you must miss your Mom so bad, huh?" and I would then. I didn't want you comforting me. I didn't want you to try and fix things and try and make me better all the time. I wanted to grieve and move on like Dad would've wanted me to." Kurt takes in a shaky breath and they're standing apart again, this confession hanging in the air, the weight of it tangible between them.
"I've never stopped loving you either." Kurt finally says and it's all Blaine needs.
He gathers up Kurt in his arms and this thing that has clamped his chest shut for so many years releases him and he can breathe again and he thinks it may just be because his arms have never felt so whole and filled until Kurt's warm weight was back in them.
"You and me babe, how about it . . .?" he sings softly, the words sounding like a breath between them and when he kisses Kurt again it's with the promise of future and happiness and a lifetime of singing to Kurt.