Another plotbunny attack here…
I needed to get this out of my system, and I did this instead of my history project O.O
Anyways, here's your story. Warning: infidelity…
I wrote this to Set The Fire To The Third Bar by Snow Patrol, listen to it as you read it if you want. Title is from Take It All by Adele.
Read, review, and enjoy! :)
-O-
Kurt couldn't believe it. Blaine was really leaving. Tomorrow would be his last day with Kurt, and then he would be gone for two years.
Two years spent in a place of war and violence. Two years spent without him by his side. Two years without waking up to him in the morning.
Kurt wasn't sure how he could handle two years.
-O-
Things are hard, though. Interactions with strangers on the street or in stores or anywhere leaves Kurt feeling alienated from their scathing glances at him or the cold tone they use in their voices.
It isn't just the way he dresses—he had toned it down quite a bit since high school—but it's also just the general way he looks and talks.
No matter what laws or policies are passed, there is still a large population of judgmental, homophobic people.
Kurt understands that, though. He knows that everybody judges on appearances and the way he acts.
That doesn't make it hurt any less. He knows he shouldn't be treated like that for who he is, but who is he to correct all of those people who don't agree with him?
-O-
They make the best of their last day together, spending little time outside of their apartment and more time in each other's arms, pressing light kisses that ghost across each other's bodies, mapping every inch of skin to store away in their memories.
-O-
They're at the air field, and Blaine stands in front of Kurt, in uniform, his bag heavy on his back. Kurt is on the verge of a breakdown, so when Blaine wraps him in a huge embrace, he lets it all out.
"I—I don't know how I can handle this all without you. I could handle the comments and looks when you're here with me, but now you won't be," he whispers in Blaine's ear.
Blaine pulls away and brushes a thumb over Kurt's face, erasing the some of the tears made on his face.
"Hold on," he says, and he shrugs off his bag and kneels down to retrieve something from it. He pulls out a whiteboard with a cord attached to it and a black pen.
He hangs the board around Kurt's neck and uncaps the pen, biting his bottom lip as he writes something carefully on the surface.
When he's finally finished, he puts the pen back in his bag and slips the bag back on his shoulder.
"Wear this today. Wear it when people say those things and are ignorant, because they really don't know what goes on behind what you see."
He reaches a hand behind Kurt's head and brings him close for one last kiss, displayed for all to see in the area for families and friends seeing their loved ones off.
Neither of them wants to let go, but Blaine has to pull away when another man dressed in uniform comes up and claps him on the back and looks toward the giant transport plane in the background.
He turns to leave, but he takes a couple of steps and rushes back to Kurt, pressing as many kisses as he can to Kurt's lips in a desperate flurry before even Kurt says, "Blaine, you have to go."
He takes a step back and looks one last time at Kurt, drinking in his scent, his complexion, his voice—everything to commit to memory before he leaves for good, jogging to catch up with the last of the group. He stops at the edge of the plane, and gives a tiny little wave to Kurt before he's ushered inside and he disappears from sight.
Kurt stands there, numb from the emotions coursing through him, and deaf to the sobbing sounds of the other family members seeing loved ones off. He can't get himself to move from the spot, but he remembers the board hanging around his neck and he looks down to see what Blaine had scrawled across it in big, thick letters.
My boyfriend is stationed in Afghanistan for the next two years.
Yes, this was going to be a rough two years.
-O-
To distract himself, he goes to the store to get some groceries, since the cupboards and fridge are practically empty from living solely in the apartment for the last two weeks. He needs to get his mind off of Blaine's departure and cook something delicious.
He stands in line at the checkout, waiting for his turn to pay so he can leave, when all of a sudden a woman comes up to him and asks to give him a hug.
He's surprised, but he lets her, and when she breaks away, she dabs at her eyes.
"My son was in Afghanistan, too. I hope your loved one comes back, because I never got to see my boy again."
Kurt had forgotten about the whiteboard again, but he's hit full force by the recent memory of that morning. All he can do is nod in sympathy to the woman, who's already turning to leave.
What he doesn't know is that she was ready to roll her eyes at him until she saw the sign hanging from his neck.
What he doesn't know is that she has protested same-sex relationships nearly her entire life, because her parents raised her that way.
What he doesn't know is that her husband disowned his own brother when they found out he had a boyfriend.
All he knows is that there's other people who are missing their loved ones, and that's all he really cares about right now.
-O-
Blaine sits on his bed at the camp, the tent overhead, avoiding the searing heat of the desert. He scribbles something on his own whiteboard, and takes out a camera.
He turns to the man sitting beside him, and asks him to take a picture.
The camera flashes brightly, and Blaine thanks Dylan.
He goes over to the computer sitting in the corner and signs on to his email account, and uploads the picture to it.
He writes a short little message, and clicks send.
-O-
Kurt checks his email and finds three new messages. One is from his boss, telling him about the work party that weekend along with the time and other instructions. Another is from Tina, giving him an update on her life this last week. He writes out a response to her, and sends it before he's ready to open the last email.
It's been two weeks since Kurt saw him off, and he's been incredibly lonely.
With one last deep breath, he clicks on the "read" button and closes his eyes, bracing himself for what he's about to read.
When he opens them, he sees a picture of Blaine standing next to a cot with his own whiteboard in his hands, with the words "It's hot here, but it would be so much hotter if you were here with me."
The expression on Blaine's face is somewhat blank, but Kurt can tell he was fighting off a smile when the picture was taken because of the little smirk tugging at the corners of Blaine's mouth.
Beneath the picture, Blaine had written a message.
"I'm not actually endorsing you coming here, because I want you to be safe, but I miss you. There's so much more I want to say, but pictures are worth a thousand words, so here's hoping you can find one thousand and one words in this one (I consider it cheating if you count the ones on the whiteboard—don't be tempted!)."
Kurt laughs to himself, and looks around the house for his camera. He finds it and reaches for the whiteboard, but then hesitates.
He puts the board back up on the wall, and gets his keys from the counter and gets in his car.
When he gets home, he has a new whiteboard, complete with an array of colorful markers, ready to be used.
He thinks for a moment, then writes his message on the board and sets the camera on the tripod he found in his closet and takes a picture on the timer setting.
He uploads it to the computer and attaches it to an email, likewise writing a little note below before clicking send.
Maybe things weren't going to be so bad after all.
-O-
This exchange goes on for weeks. Weeks turn into months, and the seasons change from summer to fall, fall to winter. Kurt has always enjoyed the changing colors of the leaves, the way they shift from a bright, healthy green to a rich, reddish brown before they fall dead to the ground below.
In a way it reminds him that life is short, and to go out there and live it to its fullest.
He spends more time out of the apartment when he's not working on something as an extra report for his boss, or when he's not sitting there, relaxing on the couch, counting the months, weeks, days until he feels complete again.
He goes out sometimes just to forget. He needs to forget these depressing things, let loose and have a good time.
But sometimes that's not necessarily a good thing.
-O-
He's had too much to drink at the bar, and he doesn't remember why he's stumbling home with another man wrapped around him, plastering kisses to Kurt's necks and leaving marks that will definitely be visible later.
Kurt can't remember the last time he was in someone's arms, and he forgets how good it feels to feel wanted, to be desired by someone. It's been so long.
They move to the couch and James is pressed down on top of him, slowly grinding his hips against Kurt's, willing him to feel his arousal and get a move on with his own. His lips are glued to Kurt's and he leaves hardly any room to breathe as he pushes Kurt's mouth open more with his tongue and explores around.
Kurt tries to contain his pleasure, but the moan escapes his lips and James pushes harder against him, digging him into the cushions of the couch, ready to fuck but still wary and patient of Kurt's pace, however drunk he may be.
James moves his lips back down to Kurt's neck again, and this time when he nips lightly, Kurt's eyes snap open and roll backwards before they come back and settle on the whiteboard hanging near the computer on the desk.
He bolts upright, nearly shoving James to the floor and he runs a hand through his hair, trying to smooth it out from its rumpled state, pacing back and forth in front of the couch.
"Oh my god, I'm sorry, I just can't. I really just can't. I'm so drunk right now and this is all a huge mistake. Actually, no, I'm not sorry. You need to leave right now." The anxiety is already pricking at his eyes, and he feels the worst he has ever felt in his entire life.
James doesn't say anything, but he picks up his jacket from the floor and is halfway through the door.
Kurt calls after him. "Don't bother coming back," he says. "I think it's best if we never see each other again."
James hesitates in the hall, but he understands and still has enough sense in him to know when to walk away and respect Kurt's wishes.
-O-
Kurt wakes up with a pounding headache and a furry coating on his tongue. He can't ever remember feeling this terrible over anything, and combine it with a hangover, and you've got yourself the worst feeling in the world.
He can't concentrate on brewing the coffee—everything just feels so wrong. He can't shake the dread from his mind as he tries to think of how to attack this.
He has to tell Blaine, though. It's not right to keep something like this from him. Kurt would want to know if Blaine had cheated on him, too.
Technically, it wasn't exactly cheating. Yes, he was drunk, and yes, he had kissed another guy. But that was it. He stopped it before it went any further—and that was what counted, right?
Still he knew Blaine probably wasn't going to react lightly and welcome him with open arms.
But he did this to himself, and he had to pay for it.
With a heavy heart, he sits down at his desk and begins typing.
-O-
Blaine is excited to see an email from Kurt. It's been a while since they last talked because either one or the other was too busy to reply straightaway.
He opens the email and the smile quickly melts from his face as he scans the first few lines, eyes blurring the more he reads on.
"Blaine," it begins. "I don't feel like you deserve to go on without knowing. It doesn't feel right to you or anyone else because I know I was wrong.
I love you, Blaine. I really do, and I want you to know that. When we met, I saw something in you that I hadn't found in anyone else before. But I can't live with myself without telling you. I can't live with myself now that I'm telling you. Either way, I'm pretty miserable with this, but you have a right to know what happened.
I was drunk, Blaine. I was drunk, I was lonely, and I wasn't thinking. But that doesn't even begin to start for any excuse. I just want to make things clear right now.
We didn't do anything—I stopped it before it got too far. But the fact remains that he did kiss me, and I let him.
I am never seeing him again. I told him to leave, and he respected my decision, and I know he won't be back.
Again, I don't expect any forgiveness from you. I still can't forgive myself, and you have every right to hate me. I needed to tell you before you could have found out any other way.
I understand if you feel like you can't forgive me. Right now, I think you deserve so much better than me.
With all my love,
Kurt."
Blaine doesn't want to open the attached photo, but somehow he wills himself to do it.
Kurt stands against the walls of their bedroom. He's holding up the whiteboard in front of him as usual, but this time, there's no message written on the surface.
Instead, the message is in Kurt's eyes, expressed in the immense apologies that lie under the surface. There aren't any tears, but Kurt looks like he's on the verge of them.
Blaine's happy that there are no tears. If there were any, he thinks he would be disgusted.
He types a quick response and sends it. He goes quietly to his cot, and while the other men can't see or hear, he's crying himself to sleep.
-O-
Kurt dreads opening the email sitting in his inbox when he wakes up the next morning. But he opens it, and is met with his worst confirmation.
There are only two sentences.
"You're right. I can't do this right now."
No greeting. No signature. Just those final words sounding like a death sentence as Kurt reads them in his mind.
He knows that this was coming, but all of his preparation can't steady him as he feels like he's ready to fall apart.
-O-
It's different without any kind of communication from Blaine. He has no idea if Blaine is even going to come back to him.
Days without contact turn into weeks, and weeks turn into months.
Before he knows it, it's been a full year since Blaine broke it off. There's three months left until Blaine is supposed to return, and he still has no idea what had been going on over on Blaine's side of the world.
He's stopped checking his email every day after two months of an empty inbox. Now he only checks it maybe once a month.
He tries to forget, tries to busy himself with projects like fixing up the apartment, or painting the living room, or getting a new rug for the bedroom. Sometimes all he can do is throw himself into those projects, because that's the only way he allows himself to feel anything.
-O-
He remembers when they first met. That day in the coffee shop. It still seems so clichéd how it happened.
They had both reached for the same drink at the same time, and brushed fingertips.
Sparks flew and all, but really, it didn't seem all that clichéd once it had happened to them.
To them, it was the beginning a great friendship, one that led to the most incredible exclusive relationship that Kurt has ever been in. There was something that happened in that briefly lingering touch that sent both of them reeling.
From there, they got to know each other, and things sort of slid into an easy place.
The firsts were taken as they came, from the first I love you's to the first time they trusted each other enough to let go of their inhibitions and give each other up to the other.
Kurt is convinced that there's an official ending to those I love you's and times in each other's arms.
-O-
It's the day of the return of Blaine's unit, and Kurt is tearing himself apart, considering whether or not he should go.
He makes his final decision, and takes the whiteboard down from his wall.
-O-
The airfield is quiet with anticipation as everybody standing there waits to see the transport in the sky.
When somebody spots it, there's a round of cheering as everyone rejoices for the loved ones who managed to return home. Kurt's silently cheering in his head, afraid to let himself get his hopes up.
The planes touches down, and the crowd waits with bated breath for the nose of the plane to open up and let the soldiers out.
The massive crowd surges forward when the plane finally does so, and Kurt is nearly lost in the rush.
It's not very long though, before he spots Blaine. He's almost ready to turn away and leave because he can see that Blaine's looking for someone. Someone else, it seems.
But then Blaine notices him, and a look crosses his face that Kurt has never seen before.
Before he knows it, Blaine is bounding over to him and crushing him in a hug that he doesn't expect, not from Blaine, so he stands there in shock until he wakes up enough to hug him back.
They stand there for a long time until Kurt realizes that Blaine's crying quietly.
He pulls away and holds Blaine in front of him, who's a wreck—still clean-shaven, hair trimmed short and curls neat—but the way his face is screwed up in emotion gives away the mess he is inside.
"I don't get it," Kurt says finally.
Blaine takes a deep breath.
"I was ready to leave everything. I took a year to make my mind up. I wasn't going to come back to this, to you. But then I saw you standing there. You. Still here. And I couldn't do it."
He takes some folded pieces of paper from his pocket and holds them up for Kurt to see. It's a well worn and creased copy of the last email he sent, the one explaining everything and the picture is there too.
"You don't know how much this tore me apart. I read it every day. I missed you so much, and I tried to think of some reason not to go back to you, but what's written on paper and what's captured on camera is nothing compared to what a person looks like when they're sorry, right in front of your face."
He rips up the papers into tiny little pieces.
"Seeing you here makes me realize that."
He notices that Kurt's wearing the whiteboard around his neck again, the same one from two years ago when he wrote on it. In fact, his writing is still on there.
He smiles and takes out a pen, but all he can find is the permanent marker in his pocket. He wipes his sleeve across the message, erasing it from the surface and leaving a fresh, clean slate before he writes on it again.
"I'm home."