(((Three days after Blaine's visit to NYC in 4.04 and the subsequent break-up with Kurt, Blaine returns home from school to find a package from Kurt... this is the story of the contents of that package...))) Part 1 of a 100 Series :: KLAINE

It had been two days since Blaine returned to Ohio after his fateful trip to NYC to break the heart of the only person who gave a damn about him. He remembered the previous week, feeling lonely and left behind was nothing compared to how he felt now - dirty, wrong, horrid and alone – truly alone. He'd lost his boyfriend, his Kurt, and for what? A few kisses that felt and tasted and lingered all wrong and an awkward hand job that was too dry, too rough and harsh and not at all satisfying.

The package was waiting on his bed when he entered his room. His bag hit the ground with a thud of books, contests spilling and rolling across the floor, disappearing under his bed. Blaine's hands were shaking, his knees were shaking, he was pretty sure his teeth were shaking as he took the box in both hands and read the return address Kurt Hummel, Bushwick, NYC.

He felt the wetness on his cheeks before he realized he was crying and then he was choking on air, hugging the box to his chest while he melted onto the floor against his bed. He didn't know how long it took before he was able to make his way to his desk and fish out a pair of scissors to break the hard seal of tape wrapped securely around the box.

Inside were three bowties, one with the Manhattan skyline printed across it in various shades of blue. One a simple red and white and the third an elegant purple silk with gold stitches. Along with a shiny off-white business card printed for Kurt Hummel, Intern, VOGUE in elegant script, there was also a folded letter written carefully in Kurt's neat hand.

My dearest Blaine –
Just dropping a line to tell you that I miss you more than words can say and I love you and I miss your face and your hair and your hands and just your everything all the time. You're always in my thoughts, babe. Also, one of the bowties *may* have been nicked – with Isabel's permission – from the master closet at Vogue (aka, heaven on earth) I wonder if you can guess which one?

I'm sitting at the park across the street from our building in Bushwick, wishing you were here with me. I can hardly wait for you to come visit in a few weeks, there's so much I want to show you of this amazing city that will one day be ours. Ours together.

Yesterday, I saw a boy wearing that blue pea coat you got from H&M last year. I was on 5th avenue having lunch with some people from work and I stole the sugar packets from the restaurant for you, because I felt like you were with me even though you're states away… It sucks being away from you.

There's so much that I can't wait to do with you in NYC. I want to experience Central Park at dawn with you by my side. I want to ride the subway with your hand in mine and I want to walk through Times Square and eat in Chinatown and Little Italy. Then I want to take you back to my apartment and make love to you. (We can lock Rachel out. It'll be so nice not to have to listen for a door or garage or parents or brothers!)

Then, I want us to sit on this very bench while we watch the sunset over downtown Manhattan and I kiss you senseless because I miss kissing you. In fact we may just spend your entire weekend here kissing so that I can memorize every perfect detail.

Anyway, hope you like the bowties and my fancy personal business card, which makes me feel very adult or something; I thought you might like one for your wallet. I love you so much Blaine, keep my heart safe in Ohio. I've left it with you.

Yours, forever -
Kurt

By the end of the letter, Blaine was doubled over the back of his desk chair, clutching to the wood till his knuckles were white and sore. Crying in earnest, he watched as Kurt's words blurred on the page. He wasn't sure who was screaming until he felt the sound in his own throat. The next thing Blaine knew he was crumbled on his bedroom floor, his legs bent awkwardly beneath him as the sobs broke free, loud and echoing around the room.

Reality.

Reality was the empty bed behind him where he and Kurt had first made love. Reality was the ringing silence of his cell on the table, the dream of Kurt's smile featured on the main screen; the picture taken mere minutes prior to the moment when Blaine's first visit to NYC had become a nightmare. Reality was the pain that shot across Kurt's face when Blaine blurted out the truth, reality was Kurt's tears, reality was Blaine's fault.

His mouth still tasted sour, both from the words he had to say and the words he wished he'd never said, wished he could take back. The idiot words he'd spat at Kurt to try to justify his mistake, as if Blaine's weakness, his selfishness, his neediness was Kurt's fault. Those memories made his head ache whenever he thought about it, his desperate attempts to talk his way out of the inevitable.

Reality was that Kurt hadn't been leaving, before. Reality had been all the things they'd promised. Reality was that Blaine had broken Kurt's heart with his foolish actions. Reality was that Kurt was gone and Blaine only had himself to blame.

Even after the dozen shower's he's taken since leaving the bed of another man, everything smelled wrong. Even his hair gel was sickening where it was usually so sweet. His body felt awkward, like his very skin was stained with the guilt and shame of his actions. His lips tasted like poison, a reminder of the last time Kurt would ever kiss him.

Later that night it occurred to him, worse than every other thought, that someday someone else would be allowed to kiss Kurt and reach for him and have Kurt and be with Kurt and love Kurt. All because Blaine had let them have him. He let go of the most precious thing in his life the second he allowed some stranger to touch him, kiss him. He felt like he traded a bag of gold for a lump of coal and he couldn't for the life of him remember why the coal had seemed like a good option in the first place. The thought made bile rise in his throat again though his stomach remained empty and for the sixth night in a row, he was unable to sleep.