Kurt steps out of the shower the next morning, tousling his hair with a towel. He hangs it back on the rack, then walks across the bathroom to pick his robe off its hook, pulling it on over his shoulders and tying it at his waist. He makes his way out of the bathroom to his vanity, sitting there and working through his morning skincare routine. He knows he'll have to face Blaine today, really talk to his boyfriend, but he's not ready quite yet. He applies each product carefully in his vanity mirror, as though the lotions and serums have been specially formulated to give him the strength to deal with this, whatever this is. He finishes up, then stands and walks over to his closet to choose his outfit for the day. Selecting a pair of tight gray pants paired with a simple turquoise tee, he shrugs off his robe and hangs it on the back of the closet door. He pulls the shirt on over his head, then pulls each leg through his pants, fastening them around his hips with a yellow belt. He makes his way back to his vanity, sitting down to style his hair, but he freezes when he catches sight of his reflection. Slowly, delicately, he traces over the purple finger-shaped bruises peeking out from under the short sleeve of his shirt. He almost forgot that part of the evening, so consumed by everything that came after, it seems so insignificant now, but before he even registers the feelings there's a sob catching in his throat. He brings his hand to his mouth, trying to hold the tears back.
"Breathe, Kurt. Breathe," he whispers to himself, taking in shaky breaths, trying to calm himself back down. It's not a big deal; not really. He's okay. They're okay. Blaine was drunk, he didn't mean it. Blaine would never hurt Kurt. It would kill Blaine to know he'd hurt Kurt.
Kurt blinks back a few tears before they can fall, then stands and turns back toward his closet. Looks like it will be long sleeves for the next few days. At last it's winter so nobody will question it.
After he changes and styles his hair, Kurt is standing at Blaine's bedroom door, glass of water in hand, and he knocks softly. He hears a pained groan from the other side of the door, and figures that's permission enough, so he pushes the door open, steps through and pulls it closed behind him. Blaine is still in bed, buried under a mountain of blankets. Kurt flicks the light on, then steps towards the side of the bed.
"No," Blaine mumbles from under the mountain of blankets, "light."
Kurt takes a step back, flicks the light back off, then makes his way over to Blaine. He sets the glass of water down on the side table with a couple Advil he'd brought. "I brought you water. And Advil."
It takes a moment, but then Blaine is pushing the covers down, reaching out for the pills and popping them into his mouth before chasing them with the glass of water.
"My head," Blaine moans, closing his eyes as soon as they aren't absolutely needed to see what he's doing, and holding a hand to his forehead.
"I know," Kurt says, and he reaches out and rubs Blaine's arm gently, not sure if it will really give him any comfort, but feeling like he needs to be doing something.
"I'm gonna be sick," Blaine mumbles, and with no more warning than that Blaine is hunched over the side of the bed and heaving onto the floor below.
Kurt rubs Blaine's back as he leans over the side of the bed, spitting up the remnants of whatever he'd eaten at the party last night. When Blaine is finally done, he picks up the glass of water again with a shaky hand, downs the rest of it, then collapses back into the bed, pulling the blankets up over his head again.
"I'll um... I'll get you some more water," Kurt says, picking up the empty glass, "and maybe a bucket. Just in case."
He steps around the puddle of vomit on the floor – he supposes he'll need to deal with that, too – and makes his way back to the kitchen. It's going to be a long morning.
He spends the rest of the morning in and out of Blaine's room, bringing him water and saltine crackers to try to get something to stay down. Eventually, when Blaine seems a little more alive, Kurt manages to convince him to get up and take a shower.
"Remind me to never drink that much again," Blaine groans, walking into Kurt's room after his shower and laying across the bed.
Kurt sits at his vanity, organizing his skincare products, and looks at Blaine's reflection behind him in the mirror. "I'll try," he says before going back to what he was doing.
"Hey, is... something wrong?" Blaine asks.
"No," Kurt says, not taking his eyes off the products in front of him.
"Kurt."
Kurt stops what he's doing, but doesn't turn around, doesn't look at Blaine. "Do you remember anything about last night?"
"Not much," Blaine replies sheepishly. "Did... what happened?"
"We just... it's nothing, Blaine." He knows he doesn't sound very convincing.
He hears Blaine shifting on the bed behind him. "We what?" He sounds confused.
"You, um... we just got in a fight, kind of, but it – you were drunk, Blaine, it's not... it's fine."
Blaine gets up off the bed, makes his way over to Kurt and puts a hand on Kurt's shoulder; Kurt flinches back instinctively at the touch. He doesn't mean to, he can't help it, but it just brings him back to that place, that day in the locker room that he hasn't thought about in so long, and now last night, too, and everything is just rushing back to him again and he feels the tears stinging behind his eyes.
"Kurt," Blaine says, dropping his hand from Kurt's shoulder, "I'm sorry, I..."
"Can you just... go? Please?" He asks, voice strained as he tries to hold back the tears. He can't talk to Blaine about this, not right now. He knows Blaine didn't mean it, knows Blaine would never intentionally hurt him, and he knows how upset Blaine will be if they have this conversation right now and he just can't deal with it. He needs more time, time to get his own emotions under control and figure out what he should say.
"Are you sure?" Blaine asks, voice full of concern now, and he reaches a hand out to touch Kurt's arm but seems to think better of it at the last minute and lets it fall back to his side.
"Yeah," Kurt says, nodding; he doesn't think he can say anything else without crying.
"Okay," Blaine says, slowly backing away toward the door. "I uh... I'll be in my room. Come talk to me when you're ready? Please?"
Kurt doesn't respond, just nods, and watches in his peripheral vision as Blaine leaves, closing the door softly behind himself.
He takes in a deep, shuddering breath and stares back at himself in the mirror.
"Pull yourself together," he says quietly to his reflection.
Why is he so upset? Blaine scared him a bit, sure, but it's not really Blaine's fault, is it? Blaine didn't do anything really bad, they just got in a bit of a fight, Kurt wouldn't be reacting nearly as strongly if it weren't for Karofsky last year, and that's not on Blaine. He hadn't thought about this in so long, and he kind of hates that it still has this much power over him. Blaine is his boyfriend, these situations are completely different. It's not like Blaine did anything they haven't done before, right? So why is he having such a hard time with this?
It takes him a solid hour sitting alone in his room, thinking, before he feels ready to go talk to Blaine. And even then, ready is a bit of a stretch, but he knows this conversation needs to happen; Blaine flies back to New York tomorrow, and this needs to happen before he leaves. He makes his way down the hall to Blaine's room and knocks lightly on the door.
"Come in," Blaine's voice calls from the other side of the door. Kurt opens the door, walks through and pulls it closed behind him.
"Hey," Kurt says quietly, walking over to sit on the bed next to Blaine.
"Hi," Blaine says, shifting to face Kurt. "I, um... I talked to Wes." Blaine is looking down at the ground.
"Oh." He wasn't really expecting that, but he's thankful that maybe he won't have to explain everything to his boyfriend.
"He told me what happened. Kurt, I- I'm so, so sorry. I didn't mean to...," he trails off.
"I know," Kurt murmurs, eyes focused on the floor.
"Hey, look at me," Blaine coaxes him, and Kurt brings his eyes up to meet Blaine's. "Did I... did I hurt you?" His voice breaks when he says hurt, and it kills Kurt to see the fear in Blaine's eyes.
Kurt rubs at the bruise on his arm beneath his sleeve subconsciously. "No, I'm fine, I just..." he trails off, and it's mostly the truth, he thinks. Or at least, it should be. He should be fine. He'd had this planned out so well, but right now, looking at the expression on Blaine's face, he can't remember what he was going to say. He can't tell Blaine that he scared him, can't tell Blaine that last night he felt like he was in that locker room with Karofsky all over again. He can't do that to Blaine, knows how hard Blaine would be on himself.
"Just what?" Blaine asks, honey-eyes wide and full of concern.
"I don't know, I just... I started thinking about being in that locker room, I don't know why, and I just... It shouldn't still bother me." he says lamely.
"No, hey," Blaine says, wrapping his arms around Kurt. Kurt flinches a little at the contact, but doesn't pull away, lets himself try to relax into Blaine's arms, "you're allowed to be upset about that still. Did I... I didn't..."
Kurt knows what Blaine is trying to ask, and maybe his answer isn't completely honest, but it's what Blaine needs to hear right now. "No, I know you would never, I just... I don't know, Blaine, I'm sorry," he says, his voice hitching a little on the last word.
"Hey, love, no, that's... it's okay." Blaine squeezes him a little tighter, plants a soft kiss in Kurt's hair. "It's okay."
Kurt takes a deep breath in, trying to steady his breathing. He doesn't respond, just sits there, lets Blaine hold him, and hopes that if Blaine tells him it will be okay enough times, that it really will be.