Sorry for going AWOL. Hope this makes up for a small portion of me being a massive failure.

Chapter 4

The front door stood ajar. He assumed Blaine must have seen Kurt's headlights flash against his window, or perhaps just heard Kurt's car door slam too violently shut. It couldn't have been that Blaine had kept the door open for hours, patiently staring out of his bedroom window, waiting for any sign that the SUV would return.

Kurt paused at the entryway and let a slender finger run against the grain of the wood. Smooth perfection of course.

The door swung back as silently as if an entire can of WD40 oil had been thrown onto the hinges.

Knowing Blaine, it probably had.

Surrounding the living room were numerous white tea-lights, all almost burnt down to that delicate but precipitous point of being extinguished. The dull, barely-there lighting and the warm play of shadows really were beautiful.

You have to admit, Kurt thought sardonically, he does know how to put on a show.

Upstairs, he found Blaine feigning sleep on top of the covers. Fully clothed.

With Kurt's back pressed against the door, he waited for Blaine to make his play.

The seconds passed and eventually Blaine swivelled to sit on the edge of his bed. His eyes were still lowered and his shoulders hunched.

"I know this is hard for you and that you're scared. I understand. But you're ready for this Kurt. You really are." Blaine paused in his measured tone, gathering his thoughts from a speech he'd spent hours practising. Every detail and inflection agonised over, every word carefully chosen.

"You've almost graduated from High school. What better to lose your virginity to someone who cares for you? Who's always stood up for you, who's always been there when you needed someone…" Blaine was on his feet, daring to look at Kurt for the first time. There was an unashamed pleading in his eye and you could tell he'd been crying. Nothing he did could stop the speech from drifting out his mind. The more he desperately grappled for those words, the further away they floated and thinned in the mist

"...and most of all, not afraid to give his whole heart, his whole heart Kurt. His whole heart and whole person to be with you. I'm that person, Kurt, I can be that person, not…" The tumult of his emotion came to a climax. The speech was gone and so had Blaine's resolution to continue.

To both boys the pattern on the carpet suddenly seemed extraordinarily interesting. Kurt focused on the weave…and what is it made from? It looks so soft. Kurt tried to think of anything just so he didn't have to think on Blaine.

Nice bold colours too. But there's an imperfection in the pattern: a kink in the otherwise rational and sensible lines of its pre and fore runners. You wouldn't even notice it if you weren't concentrating. At a glance, it looks perfect. But of course, if one looks hard enough, the mistakes always appear. And then they never go away. Kurt couldn't stop thinking about 'where's wally'. How once you spot him, you can never unfind him. He's always there, staring you in the face: mocking you with his incessant smile and hipster glasses, hat and walking stick. Once found, game's over, fun's over.

Blaine, on the other hand, could only find his ending sentence in the pattern of the carpet. "I love you Kurt. You know I do."

That's why he came back, right?

Blaine moved closer, his hands reaching Kurt's waist. Gently tugging on Kurt's buckle, he closed the distance. As Kurt was still staring docilely at the floor, Blaine became bold enough to risk fingering the leather of Kurt's belt and lean in to softly suck at Kurt's bottom lip.

Kurt's jaw was tight as he kissed with mechanic efficiency. He could feel the urgency of Blaine's lips crushing against his own, encouraging him silently to reciprocate, but still he didn't alter from the bare closed mouth pucker-release motion.

His mind wandered.

Not to the broken boy lying 20 streets away. A boy who is desperately cradling a Kurt-scented pillow to his face so that his sobs are muffled from his parents. A boy who is painfully aware that Kurt is sprawled across someone else's bed. Pleasuring someone else. Having someone else's hands hold him in place as they rock their skins against one another. Both bodies sticky from sweat and pre cum. The rocks become faster, shorter. Kurt closes his eyes and tilts his head back against the pillow. He moans out…

Kurt didn't think much of him.

Instead all he could think of was his dad. Back to that talk, which, at the time, Kurt thought was so embarrassingly awkward. He thought about the genuine feeling behind the words "use it to connect to another person, don't throw yourself around like you don't matter, because you do matter, Kurt."

His dad meant it. Kurt did matter.

"Stop."

Kurt pressed a palm on Blaine's chest, stilling Blaine's swollen lips. Kurt pushed back harder, wanting to break the connection between their mouths. To take those lips, which weren't another's, away. "Stop. I can't do this."

He needed to get out of here. He needed Dave. Kurt needed him so badly that moment. He needed Dave to pick him up and take him somewhere safe. Safe back to that bed.

Kurt's vision obscured with tears.

Pushing Blaine away, Kurt made his escape out of the room.

He needed time to call Dave.

Inside Blaine's bathroom, Kurt slid down to sit against the radiator.

Fumbling for his phone he dialled.

After leaving the 7th missed call, Kurt thought he seemed a bit desperate. His eyes are moist and they hurt from where his palms are pressing into them. His back aches from having repeatedly rammed himself against the searing hot lines of the radiator, each thrust backwards being in time to the unanswered ring. He can feel the pain, but he does not care. He just needs Dave to answer.

After the 12th, he still hoped.

After the 17th, Kurt was curled up on the floor, biting his knee to stop himself from crying out in despair. He weeps vigorous, silent tears.

At the 22nd, he stopped.

The numbness of a defeated man washed over Kurt. His head was thick and all his thoughts seemed to be disfigured by a grey fog. This fog seeped into the cracks of thoughts and merged them with others until finally, his head became one long buzz of incomprehensible chatter.

Thoughts refused to make sense and Kurt was too tired to get the energy to care. Left inside Kurt was a paining forest fire: all consuming and deadening everything it strokes.

Unlocking the latch, he found Blaine waiting 2 foot away. "…Are you okay?" Blaine's voice cracked and his eyes looked as if they were about to flood.

Yet another person Kurt cares for, he's hurt. His stomach lurched and the fog dissipated into a black swirl of guilt and self-hatred, which fed the flames and killed yet more. How could he be so selfish? He couldn't bring himself to damage another person. Not twice, in one night.

Kurt stepped closer to Blaine and put a hand on his arm. "Yeah, I'm fine. Just… nervous I guess."

Kurt moved his hand lower and laced his fingers with Blaine's. Squeezing them tightly, Kurt led the way back into his bedroom, emotions burnt into a nothingness haze.

He wished he could have felt something romantic, or at least visceral, when Blaine lay down. Unfortunately, the only mildly remarkable thing Kurt could focus on, was the feel of the mattress sinking next to him.

Blaine lay there, restless in his non-movement. "Hey Kurt?" he whispered after a while, "I'm scared too."

And it was true. Blaine was scared: scared it would hurt; scared he wouldn't do it correctly; scared of hurting Kurt. But what scared him the most was that if he didn't do this, he'd lose Kurt forever.

Kurt could see Blaine's leg twitching: summoning the courage to perform. Out of the corner of Kurt's eye, he swore he saw Blaine's head do one small sharp nod to himself.

Curtain's up, Kurt commented internally; act one, scene one: foreplay.

In a decisive move, Blaine was on top of him: knees supporting his weight so that his groin hovered just above Kurt's, and arms extended either side of Kurt's face, enclosing him in.

Kurt could feel Blaine's shallow, half-excited breath play against his skin as Blaine's mouth moved from Kurt's cheek to lips to neck. Skimming over, but never lingering.

A hand moved down to Kurt's midriff and delicate fingertips found their way under the clothes and dipped a couple of centimetres beneath the hemline of Kurt's boxers.

Kurt could feel Blaine's cock twitch through his jeans. Blaine let out a low breath and continued to stroke the skin just under Kurt's boxers. The weight of Blaine's cock slowly increased as Blaine lowered himself onto Kurt.

The idea of what you've taken for granted, what you've had, what you still could of had if only you were brave enough to say was never so keenly felt as it had been in Kurt at that moment.

The long and slow metallic rip of zipper broke through Kurt's internal regrets. Blaine's trailing of breath and lips moved lower.

I can't lose you.

Kurt's hand, which had been limp for the entire scene, trembled off the bed and began to move through the dark waxed locks.

Don't throw yourself around like you don't matter because you do matter, Kurt.

Kurt did matter. To Blaine.

Kurt shivered.

Blaine gave a small smile and nuzzled Kurt's stomach tenderly; "excited?"

Fear.

In the bathroom, Kurt's phoned bleeped with a missed call.

Um…Yeah. Sorry. Both for being so annoying and if, after all this wait, the writing has been below your expectations. *Offers a small, apologetic smile and a piece of chocolate*.