Would You Let Me Stay

If I was to leave today, would you let me stay,
and take over your living room with my bags and belongings?
I would pay my fair share of the rent and food and other bills
and I could promise you to leave by a certain date.

'I was worried about you last night,' his mother says when he stumbles out of bed for breakfast. She's normally out of the house by this time, working and getting things done like she always seems to do, but today, she has her head propped up on her hands, watching him with a baleful expression that does not befit the mood he was sure she had last night at the wedding.

'You didn't need to be.'

'You left without talking to me, or anyone for that matter. I had no idea where you were, when you'd be back.'

Blaine shakes his head, running a hand lightly through his hair. 'I was at Kurt's.'

'I thought as much.' Her lips purse into a thin line, but he is too occupied in drawing milk and strawberries from the fridge to notice. 'Did you have sex with him?'

He almost drops the carton of milk. 'No!' His face is flushed with the memory of it, the heat sparking across his body and the touch of their skin. But he's not lying so he doesn't back down, even when she raises one perfect eyebrow.

'No, mom, we really didn't.'

She shakes her head lightly, and he knows she doesn't believe him, but she puts it aside, takes the strawberries from him and begins slicing off the ends. He watches her for a moment, amazed, but then brings himself together, grabs a clean bowl from the cabinet and fills it with cereal and milk.

She's almost finished when she says, not even looking up, 'You'll have to pack today.'

The spoon he was using for his sugar clatters into the bowl before he has a chance to pick it up again. 'What?' Blaine asks.

'You heard me. We're moving to LA. You have to pack your things today.'

'Today?'

'Yes, today. I've booked our flight for Monday.'

'Monday.' He repeats her words blindly, leans against the counter for support. He feels like a complete cliche, the dumbstruck boy who can do nothing but stare and parrot, but his heart has fallen into his gut, that momentary spark of electricity in his knees gone, leaving nothing behind but bone and muscle that no longer wants to support his weight.

'I have to go out now, but you'll be fine to pack, right?'

'Monday.'

'It's a moving day, Blaine. You knew this was com-'

'But what about Gabriel?'

'We broke up.' The tone in her voice is sad, tinged with something like regret, but he doesn't dwell on it.

'What did he do? Did he hit you, like dad hit me?'

She winces then, takes a step back from Blaine, but he's not backing down.

'I can't go.' He says it bluntly, there is no other knowledge except that fact.

'Of course you can. It's as easy as getting on the plane. You don't have the flu, and you're most definitely not pregnant.' She says the words, an echo of a joke, but there is no laugh behind them. 'You can fly.'

He shakes his head, leans closer into the island. 'You don't get it, mom. I can't go. I can't leave him.'

'You haven't slept with him.'

'Who cares! Did you sleep with your high school sweetheart before you left him? Because he still matters to you!'

That stings, cuts deep into the already open wounds. Her lips turn down, eyebrows furrowed and she turns away from Blaine, focusing instead on dumping his strawberries into the bowl. She slams down the knife and chopping board on the draining rack of the sink. 'You're going to be packed by the time I get home, Blaine,' she says, her voice falsely calm. And then she's picking up her purse and jacket and walking out the door.

He leans against the island, takes a deep breath. He can't leave. He can't he can't he can't. He can't leave New York when things just started working out, when him and Kurt are making things work. He wants to be in love, and how can he do that on the opposite side of the country.

He stares around the apartment, at the place he'd tentatively called home since they'd first moved here six months ago. She wouldn't leave without him. If he left the house till Monday, she wouldn't pack and then he'd be able to delay the whole thing. She might even agree to stay.

It's childish, irrational, but Blaine grabs his wallet and his door key and runs away.

Kurt's roommate is gone for the weekend, or so he says as he calls ahead. 'You can stay with me, he won't be here.'

'Are you sure I'm not intruding? I just really want to spend time with you right now.'

'Hey,' Kurt laughs, 'me too.'

But Blaine doesn't say he's scared it might be their last weekend together, that he's trying to avoid the inevitable move. He doesn't mention the move at all.

And Kurt accepts him into his rooms with a kiss and a hug and a slice of chocolate cake, freshly baked.

He stays there all weekend.

If I was to leave today, would you let me in
when I knock on your door in the middle of the night
desperate for a place to call home and arms to fall into.
Would you mind if I made your couch my bed?