When Blaine wakes he is lying on his back with one arm resting loosely on his chest, the other wrapped tightly around Kurt who is fused into his side. He feels a strange sensation, and realizes it is that which has woken him. Somehow- inadvertently he is sure- in the night Kurt's fingers have found their way up and under his pajama top, and are now dancing erratically over his stomach, making it flip over and over as a pleasant tingling sensation shoots through him. It is with some reluctance that he takes Kurt's hand and gently removes it, tucking it into the small gap between Kurt's chest and his side, but seconds later it is back again. Again he moves it, but again it flies back, the pressure firmer this time, a strong hand splayed insistently across his stomach, as if laying claim to Blaine even in sleep.
So Blaine remains frozen. Kurt's hair tickles under his chin as the boy breathes against him, and he moves his other arm to encircle him, daring to trail a finger lightly over the soft band of skin exposed on his side where his pajama top has ridden up.
"Tickles," Kurt laughs against his chest, and Blaine scrambles to pull apart, panicked.
"Sorry. I shouldn't have...no. Sorry."
"It's okay Blaine," Kurt says, though he too is suddenly nervous and on edge. "I quite liked it," he whispers with a furious blush.
Blaine reaches a trembling hand out to caress his cheek, smiling when Kurt closes his eyes and leans into the touch. It would be so easy, now, to kiss him. To press his lips lightly to his, opening his mouth a little wider as Kurt gasps beneath his touch. But he doesn't. He allows his hand to linger just a fraction longer than it should, but then he's pulling away, clearing his throat and blushing himself.
"I'll um...fix us some breakfast," he mumbles. "Why don't you call the hospital to check on your dad?"
"Sure," Kurt says, trying not to let his disappointment show. "You can use the shower if you want, towels are in the closet."
Blaine nods and backs away reluctantly as he watches Kurt tug his bottom lip between his teeth. He forces himself to take an ice cold shower, in a desperate attempt to keep his mind from wandering and he is grateful Kurt is nowhere to be found when he emerges. He finds him upstairs, breakfast already laid out on the table and Kurt himself pouring two mugs of coffee.
"You didn't have to do this, I said I would." Blaine says.
"I wanted to," he smiles in return. "The nurse said dad had a comfortable night. They're running some tests this morning though, so she said it would be best to visit this afternoon."
"Okay," Blaine says as he takes a mug from Kurt. "I can drive you."
"I can drive myself," Kurt says with a small smile, watching the way Blaine's eyes light up as he sips at his drink.
"That's right, I forgot. Congratulations."
"Thanks," he beams.
"So I guess I'll...um...just go after breakfast then," Blaine says quietly, eyes downcast. He is surprised when he sees Kurt's hands reaching out, taking his mug and setting it on the counter behind him then sliding around his waist.
"You don't have to," he whispers.
"I think...I think I do," he whispers back. "Because otherwise I'll do something I really regret."
"You'd regret it?" Kurt asks, pulling back to look at him with one eyebrow raised.
"Only because it wouldn't be fair to you," he clarifies. "You're in an emotionally fragile state right now. Plus you have a boyfriend," he says, grimacing on the last word.
Kurt backs away, crestfallen, and sits at the table where he proceeds to pick at a pancake. Blaine sits opposite and they remain silent, Blaine's eyes flicking to Kurt every so often, but he keeps his own downcast and trained on his food.
"Kurt."
He looks up to see Blaine, chair pushed back from the table and arms held open. Immediately he goes, curling into his lap and winding his arms around his neck, sighing deeply as he feels Blaine's arms come around him.
"I don't have a boyfriend," he whispers against him. "I made it up."
"Why would you do that?" Blaine asks in confusion, shifting so he can see Kurt's face.
"Because I wanted to make you jealous."
"You succeeded," Blaine grumbles, face furrowed into a frown as he tries to understand.
"It's just...I know you're an adult, and I keep telling myself that," he blurts, then continues quickly, "But it still hurt so much when I heard that guy in the background. Knowing you'd gone out just to get laid.."
"Wait, what?" Blaine asks, more confused than ever. "What guy?"
"The guy in the background, when I called you that morning."
"Oh him."
"Yeah, him."
"But that wasn't...oh god. Kurt, did you really think that I'd slept with him?"
"You were at his place!"
"No I wasn't. I was at Sebastian's. I don't know who the guy was. I'd been out with Sebastian the night before. I always drink a lot when I'm with him, so I left my car at his house. I needed...I was trying to forget about you. Seb hooked up with some guy, as he always does, and invited him and a group of his friends back to his house. I woke up when you called. I'd obviously passed out on the couch and I was surrounded by people I didn't know. The guy you heard was one of them, he came to ask if I wanted coffee."
"Then why the hell didn't you explain that?" Kurt yells in disbelief.
"Because you hung up on me."
"So call me back Blaine! Shout, yell, turn up on my doorstep and demand that I hear you out! Fight for me! Don't leave me to think you're some kind of...whore. Do you know how long I cried over that? Do you? It hurt so much to think that you were going to get your needs met elsewhere. That was why I offered myself up to you the following week!"
"I did wonder about that," Blaine admits under his breath, but Kurt hears clearly enough.
"Well now you know. I ended up making out like Sam was my boyfriend because I wanted to prove to you that I was capable of having an adult relationship."
"Kurt...I'm not like that," Blaine says softly. "I did try to tell you. I'm not that kind of guy."
"But as always Blaine, you didn't try hard enough," Kurt says, but there's no anger- just sadness which Blaine desperately wants to erase.
"I'm sorry," he says remorsefully. "I'm not going to pretend like I haven't had one night stands before, because I have. But I'm not proud of that. And they weren't satisfying at all."
"They must have been...at the time," Kurt says, his tone a little lighter now as he smiles and makes Blaine laugh.
"I guess. Yeah. But after I just felt...hollow. And ashamed. It's really just not my scene at all. That's why Sebastian and I have such a love hate relationship. He can be a really good friend, but he's heavily into that and I just don't understand it at all. I want the romance, the long looks, the fluttering heart when hands meet, the nervous laughter..." and bringing his hand to Kurt's face once more he continues, "the sweet caress, the eye contact...the brush of lips..." but he pulls away at the last minute, leaving Kurt to fall heavily against his shoulder with a groan.
"Tease."
"I don't mean to be," he says sincerely. "I really think I'd better go home. For a change of clothes at least."
"I have homework to do anyway," Kurt says getting to his feet grudgingly.
"I could come back tonight? When you've seen your dad?"
"Will you stay?"
"Yes."
"So that's it, they're moving in," Kurt continues, still astounded by the afternoons turn of events.
"I don't get why that's a bad thing," Blaine counters as he helps himself to more food. "I mean, you won't be under so much pressure to care for your dad, and it's obvious Carole and him adore each other."
"They do, but now I inherit Finn. And they want to divide the basement up for us to share."
"Oh."
"Exactly."
"Well it won't be all that bad."
"It will. Rachel is dating him which means I'll have to try and study while listening to my best friend and my brother alternating between making out and her screaming at him."
"So I'll give you a key, you can come study at mine," Blaine shrugs, looking up to find Kurt paused with his chopsticks half raised to his mouth. "What?"
"Nothing," Kurt answers in a slightly higher than normal voice. "Just...yeah. That sounds good. Thanks. You'd have to disclose where you live first, of course."
"Classified information," Blaine smiles. "Only a privileged few can know."
"Am I privileged?"
Blaine pauses, pupils dilating as he stares into those endless pools of blue. "Yeah."
That night, as they're tucked up together and Blaine's fingers are once again tracing their now familiar route over his back, Kurt asks. It's been on his mind for so long now, but he's held back, not wanting to push or upset him. But now he feels as if he needs to know, to be able to understand Blaine that little bit better.
"Will you tell me why you left New York?" he says into the dark, feeling Blaine tense beneath him.
"Luke," he says after a while. "I was with him for eighteen months. We met at a recording studio. I was a session guitar player and he was in with his band to cut their first single. At first it was great. We had the music thing in common of course, which was good as it's such a huge part of my life. Plus we both liked the same movies, books, that sort of thing. I wasn't really looking for anything serious, but we became...absorbed in each other is the best way I can describe it. We were never apart. He would sit with me as I wrote, I'd go to gigs with him, or to rehearsals. It was very full on. I was living on my own, but he lived with all his band mates in a huge loft. I never liked being there. It was one huge open space and people just seemed to drift in and out all the time. His band mates were all straight, and seemingly had no inhibitions either. I was made to feel uncomfortable, and I used to beg Luke to come to my place. At first this suited him too, but after a while he just wanted to be with his band.
Their single was a flop. The record label dropped them and Luke's world shattered. Two of the band moved home to their parents, but Luke and the other two stayed, tried to re-form with some others and do something different. It was around this time that I started to pull away. I had been on vacation with my parents, Copper and his family. I had such a fun time and felt so good. I was back on a regular sleeping pattern, eating properly, getting fresh air. I returned to New York refreshed and invigorated, ready to work hard- which I did. I'd never noticed how much Luke was drinking until I kept arriving at his apartment after work to find him drunk and still in the same clothes from the day before. It's like he had given up. He wasn't interested in going out or doing anything other than getting drunk or stoned- which I was never in to. So I finished it.
He didn't take it well. He turned up at the recording studio so many times, completely wasted and begging me to take him back. They were understanding, but eventually they stopped booking me for work- understandable really. He would ring on the buzzer to my apartment in the middle of the night; I tried disconnecting it, but then he'd ring the neighbours instead. All the while his drinking and pot smoking became worse. He started doing coke to try and combat the lows from the weed, but it only succeeded in making him even more paranoid. I tried to help him, really I did. But I don't think you can help anyone unless they're willing to help themselves. The rest of the band eventually drifted away, leaving Luke to spiral further down into the pits of drug addiction and depression. And I just...I just couldn't...be around that, so I stopped all contact."
He breaks off, sitting up in the darkness and wiping at his eyes as he sniffs. Kurt sits up next to him and holds his hand tightly in his.
"You did the right thing," he says kindly.
"That's not all..." he composes himself once more and continues. "I'd changed everything. I moved in with a couple of girls from college, I changed my number, my car, the whole damn lot. Then one day, almost exactly two years ago, I bumped into one of his old band members. He said Luke was worse than ever, and people had been trying to find me to see if I could help. We had been broken up a year by that point, and I had only just started to feel like me again. I said I didn't want to know and to tell Luke that too. I guess I'd like to think I'm a good person, but I went home that day feeling like the worlds biggest bastard. I thought of nothing else for two days, and eventually I took myself to see him."
There is a long moment of silence before Kurt realizes he's not continuing, so he prompts him gently. "What did he say?"
"Nothing. He hanged himself the day before."
"Jesus Christ," Kurt says in a low voice. "Oh Blaine, I am so, so sorry."
"Yeah," he chokes out before stopping and swiping at the tears. "It was awful. He'd left a note to his parents, and the last line...the last fucking line- said 'Tell Blaine this wasn't his fault,' which of course made me think it was. But you know...we'd never said I love you, never discussed a future together...it just...was what it was. I loved him as I love any of my close friends. I cared for him, but I wasn't in love with him and I always knew my future wasn't with him. Even so...to have him...feel like that was the only option left...it kinda fucked me up for a bit."
"I'm not surprised."
"I stopped all music, got a job waiting tables and another one tending bar so I could bury myself in work and forget about life. I didn't contact anyone, and eventually ignored all my parents calls. After six months Cooper turned up on my doorstep, hauled me back to LA for a couple of months before putting me on a plane to Boston, where Wes was waiting for me. Wes and I were friends at school, but I guess he was always a bit too studious for my liking- I tended to hang out with Jeff, Nick and others more, but over the next few months he really proved his worth, and has done time and again since. He quit his job and moved to New York with me, but I just couldn't settle, and he ended up working in a really shitty high school to pay the bills while I bummed around. Everywhere reminded me of Luke, and it was just too painful. So then Wes heard about a job at Dalton...and it just seemed...right. We moved back together, but I knew I had to get my own place and learn how to be me again. I've managed to pick up work through old contacts and I get regular gigs. It feels good to be involved with music again. Wes still picks me up every so often- my tendency is to sink to the bottom of a whiskey bottle whenever things get tough, but him and Cooper know me too well now."
"So...what about now? Do you think you're over it, or...?"
"It's nearly two years. I don't think I'll ever be over it, but I've learned how to deal with it. It's funny, a year of therapy, hours of psychoanalytical counselling and all it really took was for me to meet you."
"Me?"
"Meeting you made me feel alive again. Like I could remember who Blaine Anderson was. Most importantly you made me feel again."
Kurt is silent after that statement, not sure of what his reaction should be, desperate to crash their lips together but knowing now is not the time or place. Blaine sits cross legged on the bed, one hand holding Kurt's, the other plucking nervously at the sheets.
"So. That's me. That's my story. I understand you know, if you decide you don't want to continue with this," he says, gesturing between them. "Whatever this is."
"Oh Blaine," Kurt sighs, wrapping his arms tight around him. "I'm not going anywhere."
That night, Blaine sleeps with his head resting on Kurt's chest, feeling more content than he's ever known.
