Notes: I was feeling particularly sad one day, and this is what came from it. Loosely inspired by Colbie Caillet's song I Never Told You.

Kurt and Blaine are the intellectual property of Ryan Murphy and Fox.

The rattling of the ceiling fan should have annoyed Blaine, but it didn't. It was a welcome reprieve from the screaming silence that would have filled the room otherwise. Besides, the blades of the fan gave him something to focus on as he lay on his back in bed, the whirling fins spinning so fast that they melded together into one blurry circle. He wondered absently how long he'd been laying here, glassy, unblinking eyes turned towards the ceiling, his throat caught up and his chest tight and his eyes burning. It couldn't have been too long. Someone would have come looking for him if it had been. Or at least he hoped they would.

A door slammed downstairs, probably one of his parents home from work. He could hear the clipped sound his father's work shoes made as they cracked against the marble tiles in the foyer, and the muffled tones of conversation coming from the kitchen. He'd probably be expected to come down to dinner soon. Formal dinners had always been an important tradition to his parents, but they always felt so cold to him. Most of the time he could put on a face and smile as they asked their usual questions: "How many college applications did you fill out today?", "Did you look into that internship I told you about?", "When are we going to get to see your grades?," "Are you still dating that…boy? Or has that blown over yet?". No doubt the dating conversation would be pressed more than it usually was, now that Kurt was gone. And Blaine wasn't sure he was ready for that. It hurt too much to think about Kurt.

Kurt…Kurt was the reason Blaine was forced to use his old ceiling fan to drown out the silence, rather than music or a movie or some tv. No matter what he did, everything came back to Kurt. The lyrics of a song would remind him of how he and Kurt used to sing together; how the passion that practically exuded from Kurt when he sang was only matched by the passion he exuded when they were tangled up together in the sheets of his bed. Watching tv brought him back to all the late nights he and Kurt would spend on the couch curled up with each other, watching those horrible reality shows that Kurt loved so much. Sometimes Kurt would rest his head in the crook of Blaine's shoulder, ghosting kisses across his skin and hugging his midsection tightly. Other times Blaine would curl up against Kurt's chest and nod off with Kurt's fingers tangled in his un-gelled hair as Blaine was lulled into sleep by the sound of his heartbeat. The way an actress smiled at her love interest just made him think of how Kurt used to smile at him, his cheeks bunching up and his eyes shining and his cute little teeth which always seemed to get swallowed up by his huge grin barely making an appearance. God, he missed that smile. Kurt hated his smile. Blaine couldn't think of one more beautiful.

The circulating air from the fan made his face unexpectedly chilly, and Blaine realized he'd started crying again. Wiping angrily at his face with the sleeve of his sweater, Blaine turned onto his stomach, pulling his pillow close to him and burying his face in it. Peripherally he could see the stuffed puppy Kurt had given him when Cooper came to visit earlier that year. It sat on the corner of his bed, staring at him with artificially solemn eyes, and Blaine thought back to when he and Kurt had last said goodbye.

Kurt's arms were wrapped tightly around his neck, his face buried in his shoulder. He could feel a slight wetness seeping through the fabric of his t-shirt. Blaine, in turn, was clinging to Kurt's back so hard his knuckles had turned white, whispering little "I love you's" and "I'll miss you's" and "Don't forget me's" into his ear. He was aware that people were probably staring, seeing as they were nearly glued together in the middle of a crowded airport, but Blaine didn't care. No one would ruin this for him.

Pulling away, Blaine reached into his bag. "I have something for you," he said, pulling Maggie out and presenting the little stuffed animal to Kurt.

Kurt's face crumpled even more than it already had, his chin wobbling. "No, Blaine, I got that for you. She's for you to have."

Blaine shook his head. "You'll need her more than I will."

Kurt reached forward and took the soft little dog into his hands, studying it sadly for a moment. "No," he said finally, handing it back to Blaine. "You need her."

"But Kurt-"

"Listen," he said forcefully, "These next several months….they're going to be so lonely for you. Don't try to tell me that they won't be. I know better. So….you keep her, and whenever you miss me, whenever you feel sad, you'll have her there to remind you that I'll always be there for you, even if I'm a thousand miles away."

Blaine held the toy to his chest, then pulled Kurt in for a kiss, sucking lightly on his bottom lip and savoring the slight hitch in Kurt's breath that he let out every time they kissed. It would be a long time before he'd hear it again. "I love you so much," he said when they pulled away, his voice broken and watery.

Kurt locked his gaze with Blaine's, his eyes red and bloodshot. "I love you, too."

Embracing one last time, Kurt picked up his bags and walked grimly towards his terminal. The sight of his retreating back gave Blaine the sudden urge to run after him, to pull him out of the airport and drive him home and keep him here with him. 'To stop him from leaving me alone.'

Sometimes Blaine truthfully thought that the only thing that stopped him from doing just that was Finn's reassuring, guiding hand on his shoulder, leading him out of the airport and away from the only home he'd ever truly known.

Staring at the dog now, thinking back on what Kurt said, he wished it could make him feel better. Like that sculpted ball of cotton and fabric could somehow fill the gaping hole in his chest that only Kurt could make better. Like it could somehow replace him. But that dog wasn't Kurt. It would never be Kurt, and no amount of hugging it or talking to it or crying over it would replace the way Kurt held him when he was sad, the way Kurt kissed away all his tears and told him how special he was, how important he was, how much he loved him. It would never feel warm the way Kurt did when they hugged or curled up together on the couch or in one of their beds. It would never make him laugh like Kurt did. It couldn't love him like Kurt did, and for a split second Blaine was furious at the fact that Kurt had even left it here with him in the first place, a constant reminder of what wasn't there, of what should have been there.

Blaine flung an arm out in the direction of the toy, knocking it off the bed and sending it clattering to the floor. He felt immediately guilty afterwards, and the guilt piled on top of the crushing loneliness that had sunk its way deep inside his chest made him lose it. Curling himself up as tight as possible, he let the tears flow freely, rubbing at his eyes with the heels of his hands. His nose closed up and his head hurt and his body shook with sobs and Blaine ached for someone to hold him, to wrap him up in familiar arms and tell him everything would be alright. Downstairs his mother was calling him to come down to dinner, and Blaine sobbed harder, knowing that soon he would have to go out and face the world with a smile on his face, to deal with the pressures and exhaustive expectations of his own life, to talk about Kurt, about their relationship, and he wouldn't be able to drive over to Kurt's afterwards and cheer himself up like he normally did. For the first time in over a year, he was completely and utterly alone.

Blaine extended a shaking hand to his nightstand, pulling his phone close and scrolling through his contacts. Finding Kurt's name, his finger hovered over the call button, the light from the phone hurting his sensitive eyes. Maybe calling Kurt would make him feel better. Maybe hearing his melodic voice would give him the strength to face the rest of the day. He had thought distancing himself from Kurt would make it easier, would make him miss him less. But all it had done was make things worse. Just a five minute call, just enough time to year his voice, to exchange "I love you's", and everything would be okay.

His finger still hovering shakily over Kurt's name, Blaine hesitated. No, he thought, frowning at the phone. It wouldn't. It would be selfish. Kurt would immediately know something was wrong. He would know that Blaine was missing him, that he was miserable. Blaine couldn't plant that seed of doubt in his head. He knew Kurt. He knew Kurt would dwell on it, and feel guilty about it, and give up time he could be spending with his classmates or on homework to talk to him more, to reassure him. He was too self-sacrificing. It would put pressure on him he didn't need, and Blaine felt bad enough already knowing that he was likely causing Kurt to feel lonely with the distance between them as well. Calling him every time he was upset was the last thing Kurt needed.

Placing the phone back down on the nightstand, Blaine reached over the bed to retrieve the dejected stuffed animal from the floor and held it close to his chest. He remembered back when the two of them were still at Dalton, when Kurt had been falling over himself to get Blaine to notice him, and Blaine was still pretending like his stomach didn't do summersaults whenever Kurt was around. Who would have thought that they'd have come this far, that their relationship would have developed to the point where Blaine felt like he couldn't breathe if Kurt wasn't around to provide him with air.

Blaine was violently startled out of his thoughts when someone began sharply pounding on his bedroom door, and he quickly wiped at his face with his free hand. "Blaine!" his mother called from the other side of the door. "Blaine, please stop moping and come down to dinner, honey. Your father and I want to talk with you."

"Coming," Blaine called back, attempting to keep him voice even and failing. His mother seemed satisfied, though, and once the sound of her clicking heels faded from earshot, he sunk back down into the bed, Maggie still cradled firmly to his chest. Blaine didn't want to talk to his parents. He was just going to get grilled again about his relationship with Kurt and how it must be bad for him if it was causing him this much trouble and making him this upset. He knew deep down it came from a place of caring, but it still didn't make the conversation any easier.

Slowly uncurling himself from the bed, Blaine placed the stuffed dog down on his pillow and heading for the bathroom. 'One year,' he told himself. 'It's just one year of loneliness. One year of loneliness, and it'll be over. You did it for 15 years before this, you can do it again for one.'

Scrubbing at his face with soapy water and glancing at his worn, bloodshot reflection in the mirror, he severely hoped he was right.