Sometimes
It was so like you to visit me to let me know you were okay.
It was so like you to visit me, you were always worried about someone else.
For a long time after it happened, Blaine wouldn't talk to him. They would move circles around each other, and Blaine could always feel him watching. Feel the cool grey and soft blue eyes on his back, the deep sighs of impatience and fatigue. Kurt was very tired lately. Perhaps it was just taking too much energy to do this. That was what Blaine liked to believe. It was easier when they were alone.
Lying on the bed, Blaine listened to the steady breathing of Kurt beside him. Each breath tumbled through the air like drunk smoke, stumbling and slurred with something Blaine couldn't place. Blaine wouldn't look at Kurt, but he could see warm brunet tones and ceramic skin move like water in the dark room through the corner of his eye. He could feel the bed move with Kurt's turning, feel Kurt's gaze heavy on his face. Blaine closed his eyes.
'Did you dream?'
About me last night, lay unfinished between them on the bed. Blaine nodded slowly and his muscles tensed in his chest, pulling with eager fingers at a heart that was too old for such things now. He could feel the air move like marbles as Kurt's fingers drew circles in the sheets. He could still feel Kurt watching him.
'Yes, I dreamed,' Blaine replied resolutely, the words quiet and not as soft as they used to be. The edges were tattered from the years. I always dream about you. Kurt moved again and Blaine almost thought he would take Blaine's guitar-worn hand into his own cold fingers. But Kurt didn't do anything except seem to move onto his back, mimicking Blaine like a taller, paler reflection. They haven't held hands since it happened.
'Do you want to talk about it?' Kurt asked the ceiling. Blaine kept his eyes closed and instead imagined Kurt's strong silhouette and sharp eyelashes blurred in the yellow moonlight pouring in from the window. Kurt always closed his eyes like Blaine did when they talked about dreams.
'I don't remember much, if I'm honest,' Blaine admitted a little sheepishly. He could hear Kurts laugh, light and almost like he was running out of breath to spend on laughing.
'Tell me what you do remember.' Blaine could hear Kurts smile and his own lips twitched like the strings of a bass. Blaine knotted his own fingers together on his chest, the weight a little heavy but somewhat holding Blaine down to the bed. Blaine was finding it harder and harder to stay put anymore. Or at least, stay put with Kurt.
'You were there.'
'I know.' I always am.
'We were singing,' Blaine whispered and he could feel Kurts eyes quiver with an excitement. Kurt knew all their songs so well by now. Blaine smiled, Kurts presence feeling almost warm next to him, and continued; 'I think the Warblers were there. Do you remember them?'
'Barely, if I'm honest,' Kurt responded quietly and Blaine heard the undertone of grief, moving like shadows between the letters. 'That was so long ago. Anyway, you were always much better at those sort of things. Names and such.'
'True,' Blaine replied flatly. Kurt moved again and Blaine heard the springs of the bed protest and the sheets crinkle like paper. He could hear Kurt's breathing and the gentle push against his skin that reminded him of his husband's presence.
'Do you think you'll be able to manage today?'
'Tomorrow,' Blaine promised falsely in response. Kurt sighed and Blaine felt his heart twist awkwardly in his chest.
'You always say that,' Kurt said with a strange tone. Blaine felt a sting. Blaine pushed away and moved to lie on his side, his back to Kurt. Opening his eyes, Blaine watched the starlight make shapes on the bedroom wall. Kurt's coat was still cast across the back of the chair by the dresser.
'I'm just not ready,' Blaine said lamely and he could feel Kurt nod behind him. Kurt crumbled like sand behind Blaine and they lay together in silence. No touch. Blaine knew Kurt was right in pressing him, but it wasn't the right time yet. But he promised himself, and Kurt, that he would try again tomorrow.
Finn placed the box down on the coffee table. Blaine regarded it carefully, trying to take every inch of it into his memory. The corners were scuffed grey and the biro inscription had faded so only the impressions remained, but there was something sacred about the object and Blaine revelled in it. Kurts "a"'s were still the same as they had been when he was sixteen. Feeling Finn's gaze, Blaine looked up and met the brimming eyes of his brother-in-law.
'Where did you find this?' Blaine asked, the excitement in his voice trembling the words like earthquakes. Finn gave a small smile that looked just a little too forced. His face was wooden now, after all that had happened. Blaine wondered briefly if everyone could grow bark to keep the pain out. Kurt was a master, and it appeared now, he had taught Finn.
'In the basement; I was clearing some space for the stuff Burt wanted gone,' Finn explained softly and Blaine watched his eyes crack in the afternoon light of the living room. Finn's gaze moved from Blaine's face to the box and something Blaine couldn't identify tried to sew the shades of brown back together. 'Anyway, I think Kurt would've liked you to have it.'
Blaine smiled to himself as Kurt moved through his mind like a fond memory. Reaching out, Blaine opened the box, its cardboard soft with age. The smell of the cologne Kurt used to wear over-whelmed him and Blaine felt the corners of his eyes sting. He had forgotten. His hands met ripples and Blaine withdrew an elaborate body-suit in a silver material, shoulders extravagant and each sequin caught the light like a winking eye. Blaine heard Finn laugh, an honest one for a change.
'I forgot about that. We did this assignment for Glee club, about Lady Gaga. She was some big star when we were young. Do you remember her?'
'How could I forget?' Blaine smiled, moving his hands across the ghost of chest. 'Kurt still sings her songs. I don't think I'll ever get "Bad Romance" out of my head. This is amazing, Finn. Thank you, but I better hide it before he comes in and sees me laughing at it.'
Something shifted between them and Blaine registered Finn's sudden silence. Turning to face the taller man, Blaine tried to read the words scratched into Finn's wooden face. His brow was furrowed like ploughed fields and his eyes were dark. Blaine felt something cold settle in his chest like water. Like drowning. Finn moved from one foot to the other in a way that made Blaine think of French class and old Queen songs.
'Blaine,' Finn said carefully and Blaine heard the hesitancy. 'You do know Kurt won't be-'
'Home for hours? Yes, I know. But you know, Kurt. Ever the unpredictable,' Blaine interrupted good-naturedly. But something still didn't seem right. Finn was looking at Blaine like he had admitted something. Blaine felt his hands tighten, fingers getting tied up in jaded sequins and stretched string. 'Finn, are you okay?'
'You do know I'm here, man. Right? You can always come and talk to me about what happened.'
Blaine felt a bit taken-aback by the offer. Unwilling to discuss what had happened, Blaine unfurled his lips like ribbons on a present and handed a smile over as a peace-offering; all teeth and breathy laughs. 'Thanks, Finn. But I'm not sure I'm ready for that yet.'
'Alright, dude. But just so you know, we're all here for you.'
Blaine only smiled in response, but suddenly Finn's presence seemed far too much and Blaine felt he would rather prefer if Finn left. But Finn stayed for an hour, then two hours and then finally for dinner. However, his attempts to talk about what happened had eventually frustrated Blaine and in a wild, weak moment, Blaine shouted something he shouldn't have and kicked Finn out.
When Kurt came, Blaine still couldn't look at him. Instead, Kurt walked over to where Blaine was huddled in the corner of the living-room, the sequined body-suit ignored and damp with tears and harsh words lying like a body on the floor. Kurt sat down beside Blaine, his hand ghosting his soft curls, whispering;
'It's alright, darling. I'm here now.'
Blaine fell asleep with Kurt and the words.
Blaine cut the carrots carelessly, the blade making clumsy gasps between the metal and vegetable skin. He had given up trying to cut them uniformly like Kurt had taught him to. Blaine just didn't have the time. He could hear Kurt moving behind him, his shoes soft and the smell of his shampoo fading. Kurt had been avoiding him. They hadn't spoken since the fight with Finn. Kurt was upset Blaine had taken out his frustrations on Finn. Blaine felt a little betrayed that Kurt didn't take his side. Something clinked. Kurt was moving cutlery, Blaine was sure.
'I can hear you,' Blaine said, the words oh, so heavy. He could almost see Kurt's reflection in the kitchen window, ghostly pale and only brief. Blaine could imagine every button on that white shirt. When Kurt spoke, the words shook with something full of sorrow;
'Maybe you should stop trying to listen for me,' he said sadly and Blaine almost turned to look at him, but couldn't. Something strong and scared held him to the counter-top, knife frozen between orange flesh and cool, stale air. Blaine closed his eyes and gripped the edge of the counter. His wedding ring clinked against granite like glasses at a party.
'I can always hear you, Kurt.'
'I know you can.' You always do.
Silence fell between them and it was almost sweet. Almost. Blaine rubbed a rough hand over his face and continued cutting for their dinner. The smell of the salt in the boiling water filled the air with a wet weight. Steam swirled and Blaine caught a flash in the window as Kurt moved again behind him. The sounds of bubbles and Blaines breathing simmered and the noise of Kurt was almost drowned out. Blaine moved onto the chicken, sticking it under the grill. But then Kurt was singing softly and Blaine almost burnt himself because it had been so long since Kurt sang.
'Blackbird singing in the dead of night,' Kurt sang sweetly, but something sounded off. Like Kurt had forgotten how the lyrics were supposed to roll from his lips. But Kurt would never forget. 'Take these sunken eyes and learn to see...'
He hummed and Blaine could hear him straightening the spoons at the table. Kurt always did that. Blaine never laid them out right. The dinner was cooked all too soon and Blaine laid out both plates, as he always did. Extra brocolli for Kurt; his favourite. Blaine didn't move for a long time, Kurts tender words sung so sadly behind him. Then the music stopped, the lyrics painted in the air like art, and Blaine stared at the two meals, feeling Kurt's presence move.
'You can't hide forever,' Kurt said, the words hard. Blaine winced into himself slightly, eyes closed and chest tight.
'I'm not hiding from anything,' he retorted a little defensively. Kurt let out a low, sad breath- unseen. Blaine heard Kurt take a few steps closer. He could almost see Kurt's hand outstretched, almost touching. But as always, no touch came. Kurt never touched him anymore. Not since it happened.
'I know it's easier to pretend everything's alright when it's just the two of us,' Kurt whispered to Blaines back. Blaine tried to ignore how soft the words felt, how they tried to pull his shoulders around to face Kurt with tender fingers. He could almost feel the colours in Kurts eyes churning like paint. 'But don't do this to yourself, Blaine.'
'Kurt, please. I'm just... not ready for anyone but us, yet,' Blaine confessed shakily, the foundations to the sentence cracked and crumbling. He could see in his minds-eye, Kurts face falling and the colours turning blue in his eyes. They remained silent for a long time, the dinner growing cold on the counter but Blaine found his appetite wavering.
'Do you forget sometimes, Blaine?'
'Forget what?'
Kurt didn't reply and Blaine waited quietly, the only sound in the kitchen now Blaines shallow breathing and the grill crackling as it cooled. Kurt wasn't moving spoons anymore. Blaine waited, his ears straining and finally he gave in and opened his eyes. There was no reflection in the window and Kurt still didn't reply. Blaine was not sure he could anymore.
The temptation proved too much and Blaine turned around. The kitchen was empty. Kurt was already gone. Sighing to himself and tears beginning to form, Blaine lamented silently and personally for the closeness they used to have. Wiping stray tears away, Blaine sat down and ate his dinner.
He wrapped Kurts in tin-foil for when his husband would want it later.
'You never sing anymore,' Kurt sighed from his perch on the window-sill. Blaine groaned and rubbed his eyes, the light of the laptop too bright after so many hours of work. He needed to finish this, but Kurts presence was more than distracting.
'What do you mean?' Blaine replied irritably, returning to work, his fingers moving fast over smoothed keys with splattered letters. He could see Kurt swinging his legs in the corner of his eye, hear Kurts breathing strange and uneven.
'Why don't you sing anymore?' Kurt asked, but something in his high voice told Blaine that Kurt already knew the answer. He just wanted Blaine to say it. But Blaine wasn't in the mood for games right now. He was behind as he was and this needed to be finished. Blaine sighed impatiently and ignored the question, forcing himself to focus on the screen. But his head was beginning to throb steadily.
Blaine ran a hand over his face, defeated. 'That's not true, Kurt. I sing as much as I used to.'
'No, you don't,' Kurt accused softly, but Blaine felt the sting. Feeling frustrated and a little angry with Kurt, Blaine slammed his laptop shut. He could almost see Kurt jump from the sudden reaction. Blaine leant onto the desk, clasping his hands together and resting his forehead against them.
'What are you trying to say, Kurt?' Blaine asked his fingers, closing his eyes with heavy eye-lids and a sore brow.
'The song you wanted to sing, the day you kissed me for the first time. What was it?'
'"Candles",' Blaine answered immediately, wondering where Kurt was going with this. He heard Kurt leap from the window-sill, his feet landing softly. Blaine pushed his cheek into his shoulder and saw the movement of his husband shift beneath downturned eye-lids. 'Why?'
'Sing it for me,' Kurt requested in an almost bitter-tone. Blaine opened his mouth, but a sick feeling pooled in his stomach. Kurt waited patiently, but Blaine couldn't bear to look at Kurt. He could feel the disappointment from his seat, he didn't need to read it in Kurts eyes. Kurt finally sighed sadly. 'You can't remember how it goes, can you?'
Blaine bit his lip and turned back, away from Kurt. The space between them was almost suffocating and Blaine wondered if they could ever fix it. Kurts footsteps sounded like echoes in the stranded study and Blaine felt the over-whelming loss of everything from when it had happened overcome him. Feeling the threat of tears push like angry clouds, Blaine turned around to ask Kurt to sing it for him. Blaine would remember everything, the tune, the words- but only if Kurt would sing it first.
But Kurt had already left.
Blaine sat on the couch, his head buried into his hands. Photos were scattered across the table like spilled ink, the words masked in blurred faces and strained smiles. The glass on the table was half-empty and Blaine tasted his lips. Muscat, Kurts favourite. Drinking the wine felt almost like tasting Kurts lips on his again. It had been so long since they had kissed. Since they had touched at all. Since it had happened. Finn had stopped by again, dropping off the small box of photographs. He did not stay. But he did say he was sorry and that he was hurting, too. Panicked, Blaine had collapsed into tears and thrown Finn from the house.
Blaine was sick of people saying that. Sick of people talking about it.
The sound was muffled, but there. Blaine pushed his hands further into calloused fingers, his curls frazzled against his skin like static. Kurt always preferred them loose. He listened to Kurt moving in the dark of the living-room, his hands probably drifting over the fabric of the sofa. Blaine heard him sit down on the couch beside him, felt the cushions dip ever so slightly.
'Don't tell me not to miss you,' Blaine expressed in a quivering tone, thick with tears. He heard Kurt sniff somewhat haughtily next to him. Something almost like amusement pressed gently in Blaines mind, but something much heavier, and far more real smothered it.
'I wasn't going to say anything, actually.'
'Good,' Blaine snapped, his eyes sore and palms wet. The same silence fell again, like a familiar blanket with faded threads and a lingering scent. Blaine could almost feel Kurts hands pressed into the couch next to his thigh. He wished that just this once, Kurt would touch him and ignore what had happened. Blaine prayed that it would eventually stop coming between them. But what Kurt said next made every hope seem flimsy and childish.
'You forgot, didn't you?' Kurt sounded different. Blaine could hear the cracks in the letters and the way Kurts voice shook. Kurt had been sounding different lately. Like he had forgotten what his voice was supposed to sound like.
Blaine sniffed thickly tried to swallow a sob that strangled the reply; 'Yes. I forgot.' He could see Kurt nodding slowly, and Blaine waited despairingly for the moment where Kurt would take Blaine into his arms and whisper "I love you". But Kurt didn't move from his seat and Blaine didn't dare look at Kurt. The spell always broke the moment Blaine would look. And Blaine couldn't let himself lose it so soon today.
'Don't be mad at, Finn. He didn't mean to remind you,' Kurt said hushedly with the same strange voice and Blaine wondered what had happened to make Kurt sound so peculiar. Anyone could be speaking with that voice. Blaine nodded into his fingers and the cold that had settled inside him spread like cracking ice on cool water. A hard surface on something turbulent and cold.
'This isn't fair.' Blaines voice squeaked with a sob at the end and he could see Kurts face fall.
'I know, darling. I know.'
When Blaine looked up, cheeks painted in salt and lips bitten raw, Kurt was gone.
Blaine opened the door and the almost-forgotton shape of Burt Hummel stood on the porch of their home in Hudson Valley. He looked like a dream come to reality, the life in Ohio Blaine had once had seeming too old to be real anymore. Burts cap was threadbare at the edge and his coat looked old, the smell of leather washing over Blaine as he crossed the threshold. Blaine closed the door behind them and watched Burt look around the house, a glaze in his eyes that made Blaine think of what had happened. Blaine flinched and pushed his thoughts from there. Looking back, Blaine saw Burt was watching him with the same eyes Kurt used to watch him with.
'Would you like something?' Blaine asked tenatively. Burt closed his eyes as though in pain before opening them again, his gaze taking in everything. Blaine watched them linger on a familiar scarf of Kurts hanging on the coat-rack by the hall-mirror. Blaine wasn't sure how Kurt would feel about his father invading their life like this.
'Not right now, bud. I'm still trying to- you know, take in being here again,' Burt replied awkwardly, his voice creaking with motor-oil and wrenches. 'I don't know about you, but I've been having a rather uneven share of bad days and good days.'
'I understand that,' Blaine admitted heavily. Burt nodded briskly and they both moved past the living-room to the kitchen. The smell of Kurt was everywhere and Blaine thought of how hard it must be for Burt to be here after what had happened. The kitchen seemed too small with Burt in it- Kurt was always so frail in comparison with his father. Burts familiar glasz eyes found a tin-foiled dinner of pasta from three nights ago. Blaine wondered if Burt would ask Kurt when he saw him why he hadn't eaten it. Blaine didn't have the courage to.
Blaine watched the kitchen archway, waiting Kurt to walk through. It was quiet between them for a long time before Burt spoke again, the emotion in his voice hard for Blaine to recognise; 'I was talking to Finn on the phone the other day. I thought it was time you and I talk about what happened.'
'I don't think so,' Blaine said quickly, leaning back against the counter, holding on it by either side as if he was going to fling himself from it, send himself crashing to imaginary pavement. He looked to the archway again, but Kurt still hadn't come. Burts breathing sounded laboured across from him. 'I'm not ready.'
'Trust me, kid. Neither of us are ever going to be ready for this,' Burt said and Blaine realised with startling panic that Burt was crying. This was too close already. Too close to what had happened. Blaine shook his head vigorously, trying to block Burt and his words out. Any minute Kurt would walk in and demand to know what was happening. 'After Kurts mother died, he was all I had left. You have no idea what this is doing to me, Bl-'
'No!' Blaine cried, his level of fright in his own voice surprising him. Burt looked at him with cracked colours and Blaine found he couldn't look at those eyes anymore. Closing his eyes and holding onto the counter until his knuckles hurt, Blaine let the words tumble from his mouth like leaves from trees. 'No, no! I c-can't... I-'
Then everything snapped. Kurt would not walk through the archway.
The hurt was... unbelievably painful. It was so heavy in Blaines chest and sobs erupted from him like thunder clapping between storm clouds. The grief overwhelmed him and Blaine collapsed to the floor, burying his face into his hands like a body into dirt. His wedding ring bit at his skin with cold, metal teeth. Burt moved over towards Blaine and knelt down, taking Blaine into his arms like Kurt never did.
Blaine grabbed onto Burt and buried himself into the leather and flannel. Burt smelt of oil and sweet leather, but he felt warm and simmering. It had been so long since it had happened and imagining just wasn't enough anymore. Burt held him back, tight and almost so much it hurt. Burt was crying, too, but not as desperately as Blaine. Blaine choked and rained into Burts shoulder. Blaine wanted to hold onto to someone and feel them holding back.
Kurts ghost was not enough anymore.
They remained entangled and grieving for what felt like forever. Blaines despairing sobs slowly faded to gentle crying, his face destroyed in tears and his nose blocked. Burt was shaking around Blaine like wind-chimes, his hands enormous and holding Blaine steady. When Burt spoke, Kurt seemed further away then he had ever been.
'It wasn't your fault, Blaine. Don't let no one tell you otherwise,' Burt said, each word threatening to topple over and land on the floor. Blaine shied away from the words, unable to take them through his stained skin. The hurt was just too much and they offered no comfort.
'I-I forget sometimes,' Blaine whimpered and he felt Burt stall around him. Blaine let the words fall and make wrinkles in Burts coat-sleeve. 'I talk to him. Hear him singing.'
'So do I,' Burt whispered and Blaine felt a rush of affection for the older man.
Something moved in the corner of the room and Blaine almost turned to look. But he couldn't bring himself to break the old habit. Even now, with Burt forcing the truth into his fighting his hands, Blaine could feel Kurt standing next to them. He felt the air move as Kurt knelt down in front of them and Blaine closed his eyes quickly, holding on as long as he could. He could almost feel Kurts hand on his face, he feel it hovering in the air by his cheek. But Kurt would never touch.
'Lost sight, couldn't see. When it was you and me...' It sounded the closest to Kurt than Blaine had reached in a while.
'Blow the candles out,' Blaine sang softly and he could feel Burt move off him slightly, as though giving him room to breathe, to sing. 'Looks like a solo tonight...'
Blaine heard Kurt laugh, breaking their short duet. He sounded more like himself singing, more like the man Blaine had married two years ago. Such a painfully short time. Blaine pulled himself away from Burt and leaned forwards towards the man he loved. Kurts presence was warm and made the air around him fizz with something Blaine couldn't define.
'Try not miss me so much.' The words were so sad.
It didn't sound like Kurt. Didn't sound right. Not like Kurt had sounded singing. Blaine found it harder to remember Kurts voice when he spoke, found it harder to imagine what he might say. Blaine had lost it. The memory of something so precious. Feeling empty and light, Blaine looked up, trying to catch Kurts smile, see his eyes. But with Burt, came the truth. The reminder of what had happened. There was no Kurt to see.
Burt had broken their spell.
Sometimes, Blaine forgot.
He tried not to. Truly he did. Blaine had promised Burt that he would call every night, just to check-in and let the father of his deceased husband know that he was coping as a widower. Blaine knew it was Burts way of healing, of helping himself cope with the grief of losing his only son. Being close to Blaine was like being close to Kurt. But Blaine knew that feeling and knew every time Burt said goodbye, that it still wasn't enough. But Blaine had kept the promise for almost five months now.
Blaine tried to remind himself for his own sake, for Burts sake. But sometimes, like tonight, he would take out his cell-phone and press the familiar numbers. Typing the numbers instead of the speed-dial made Blaine feel like he was trying just that little bit harder to stretch out, pushing just that little bit further into the inbetween. To where Kurt still was. Blaine listened to the dull tones, waiting for the ghost to answer. Finally, Blaine heard him. The voice he sometimes forgot.
'Hey, this is Kurt Andersons phone. Sorry I can't take the call right now, but I'll be sure to buzz you back as soon as I can.'
Blaine let out a shaky breath. It had been months. Almost a year. But the hurt was still there. The unbearable grief and guilt shackled to his feet, pulling the weight everywhere he went. Blaine knew he had to stop, stop putting himself through it. Listening to a haunted message wouldn't bring Kurt back. But it sounded so real.
Taking a deep breath and trying to calm himself, Blaine spoke to someone who wasn't there. 'Hey, Kurt. It's me. I know I must've left you at least a hundred messages by now, but I just... I needed to call you and say I miss you, Kurt. I just wanted to call and say; I miss you.'
Blaine hung up and leant back, his head knocking off the headboard of the bed. Closing his eyes, Blaine let himself fall into the fissures of sleep and consciousness. The distant sounds of trees rustling outside the bedroom window and his phones light buzzing lulled him into a strange meditation. He almost smiled when he heard the familiar voice coming from the perch on the window-sill.
'Who are you calling?' Why are you calling me again? That was the question Kurt was really asking. Blaine shrugged blindly, wondering if Kurt was giving him that look.
'You.' Because I just can't let you go. That was the answer.
'You really should stop that, you're just going to upset yourself,' Kurt replied almost bossily and Blaine laughed quietly to himself and the truly empty bedroom. Blaine heard Kurt move from his seat at the window and lean against the dresser. Blaine could almost hear the wood creak in protest.
Blaine knew Kurt was dead. Blaine missed Kurt, more than it was bearable sometimes. He knew it had happened, he knew there was a reason he couldn't leave the house on July 14th. He knew there was a reason that he left Kurts clothes untouched for nearly a year. Moments like these, Blaine knew there was a reason Kurts voice would sound off because it had been so long since Blaine had listened to a recording. Blaine knew that no matter how long he lay there, talking to Kurt, it just wasn't real. Blaine knew it was the best his imagination could do, but it just wasn't good enough. Blaine knew Kurt wasn't there.
But sometimes, sometimes in moments like this, just the two of them- Blaine forgot.
I believe in anything that brings you back home to me.
This is what happens when you listen to "Signs" by Bloc Party on a loop.
No, I have not stopped writing my other story. The chapter for "No Mercy For He" is just particularly long and actually proving quite difficult to write. (I keep starting, then deleting, then re-starting). I really want to do it justice. This was just a plot-bunny that would not leave me alone.
~ATGNT