Rating: K+

Genre: Angst

Pairing: Kurt/Blaine (Klaine)

Status: Complete (one-shot)

Words: 700~

Warning: Blaine-centric, set in the future

A/N: Here is my first ever angst-y fic. I wrote this when I couldn't sleep three nights ago. Honestly, I don't think it actually falls under the Angst category. I think it's more of a "my creys" one. But I feel like it's closer to Angst rather than Drama, so I categorized it as Angst. I don't normally like to read angst-y fics since they break my heart to a thousand pieces, but most of the (if not few) angst-y fics I've read were so beautifully written. I suddenly felt like writing one, but I'm sure it's not on the same caliber as the ones I've read. It's just short. Sorry for breaking Blaine's heart like this. I felt bad, actually. Also, I never really formed in my head how they broke up, so… yeah.

Disclaimer: I do not own Glee.

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It was eerily —and not to mention, unusually— quiet. The only sounds that could be heard were the rustling of the leaves from the trees outside, the zooming of the cars passing by outside, and the ticking of the clock—

The clock, whose hands moved and snapped with every second.

He hated it.

It was like a heartless joke.

The room was filled with such silence and emptiness that the tics-and-the-tocks seemed to echo within the four walls of their room.

No, not their room. His room. It used to be their room.

Used to be.

Underneath the cream-colored sheets, a figure of a man tossed and turned. He wanted to block out the sound of the clock.

Every tic-tock meant a second that passed—a second without him.

A second without the man that he loves. A second without Kurt Hummel.

He couldn't stand it.

Before, the ticking sound of the clock was drowned out by hushed conversations and carefree giggles; by their names being moaned by each other; by tunes that they both loved blasting through their iPods; and by the melody created by their voices blending together whenever they sang. Blaine barely heard the clock before.

That was before.

Now, he was all by himself, staring at the ceiling.

He couldn't sleep. He felt empty. He felt empty and alone. From time-to-time, he would look to his left, expecting a pair of eyes shining and looking back at his.

But instead of seeing the illusion that he usually saw in Kurt's eyes during the night—the moonlight reflecting on the ocean, there was none. Kurt wasn't there beside him.

All he could see across him was the wall. The wall that seemed to play a witness on a lot of things that happened between Kurt and Blaine. They had a lot of small but happy memories in that room. Alas, there were also bad ones. The latest happening between them in that room, however, was the worst of all. Blaine wished it never happened. If it hadn't, Kurt would be lying beside him right now, kissing him quick and wishing him a good night. If it had not happened, Kurt wouldn't have packed up and left the room, and their apartment. Things wouldn't have ended between them.

He misses him. He misses how beautiful Kurt looked when his pale but beautiful body bathed in the moonlight. He misses Kurt's warmth pressed up on him. He misses Kurt's slender fingers knotted with his. He misses Kurt's sweet scent. He misses Kurt's lips on his, and on all those spots that made him weak. He misses Kurt's breath ghosting on his ear, his neck —everywhere— whispering sweet nothings over and over like a mantra.

Blaine misses Kurt.

And his heart ached more and more with every second that passed without him.

He never wanted this.

Aside from the loneliness that he felt, perhaps another reason why he couldn't sleep was because he didn't want to. Blaine knew that if he slept, he would have to wake up the next morning. He would expect to be greeted by a pair of mesmerizing blue eyes and a warm smile, only to be further disappointed and heartbroken.

He shifted and settled on his side and buried his head on the pillow that used to be Kurt's. He breathed in the distinct scent of Kurt that was barely there, as it was slowly being drowned out by his own scent. He closed his eyes, reliving in his mind all the wonderful memories that they had together.

"I love you."

He meant the words that he whispered. He would never get tired of saying those three words, even if he was all by himself and the man that he was saying it to was no longer beside him to hear him utter those words.

Even if he would never hear those words said back to him ever again by the person that he loves.

The room was still quiet, but there was now more to the sounds made by the leaves, the cars, and the clock.

The sounds of sharp intakes of breath and of chocking sobs had begun to fill the lonesome air.

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THE END

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