Blaine sat watching a few of his friends on the dance floor. This was supposed to be his birthday party, but he didn't feel like celebrating. He longed to return to his apartment, curl up in his bed, and forget everything, if only for a little while. Instead, he sat in a back booth of a noisy bar, nursing a drink while feeling sorry for himself.

In the weeks since Kurt had walked out the door, he had tried valiantly to move on with his life, to ignore the part of himself that still longed for Kurt, and lock away his love, hoping it would fade. He knew he wouldn't be hearing from Kurt again. Blaine had blocked his number. It had taken him three days to do so, and the finality of the action did little to ease his suffering. Nothing was working, though, to dull the ache he felt. He tried to put on the façade that nothing was wrong, but those around him clearly saw through it. He was tired of lying that he was okay.

His friends knew that something was wrong, the people at work were worried, his work was suffering, but Blaine couldn't talk to any of them. They hadn't known about Kurt while they were a thing. He didn't know how to explain it; and so he had kept silent. Who was he to turn to now that Kurt was gone? None of them could understand what he meant to Blaine.

This is the worst birthday ever, Blaine thought feeling the burn of the alcohol as it slipped down his throat. He held back a bitter laugh as he remembered his 23rd which was almost as bad. Then he had waited all day for his parents to call, the silence drove the point home that he had lost them forever. The only real bright spot this year had been the call from Cooper. He may have lost his parents love, but gaining a real relationship with his brother almost made up for it. Cooper didn't judge him, or expect anything from him, something Blaine couldn't ever have said about his parents. Hearing Blaine's dull voice, Cooper had asked what was wrong. All Blaine had to say was 'Tapestries'; and Cooper being a kind big brother changed the subject. He did a good job making Blaine laugh, his first genuine one since Kurt had walked out of his door for the last time.

Nick sat down across from him, sweat dripping from his forehead, a smile filling his face.

"OK birthday boy, why aren't you out on the dance floor? You live to dance!"

"I'm just not feeling up to it. I have a headache;" Blaine said, trying to smile.

"Bullshit," Nick retorted, "Listen, we know something is up. You've been down lately and… dude, we're worried about you. I've known you the longest, so I was voted to find out what the hell is going on."

Blaine looked over at their friends who were watching them, barely dancing anymore, anxious looks on their faces.

"If I told you I didn't want to talk about it, would you let it go?" Blaine asked.

Nick shook his head, "Seriously Blaine, I'm worried about you. I'm your friend, you can tell me anything."

"I am… I was seeing someone, sort of." Blaine began. "I guess I got in too far over my head, I fell too hard; and he ended it. But I don't understand why, and that makes it worse."

"I didn't know you were dating anyone," Nick said, looking confused.

Blaine rubbed his forehead, feeling a real headache coming on:

"We were sleeping together; not dating."

"Oh," Nick said looking a little shocked. "Have you tried to talk to him?"

"Nope," Blaine said downing the last of his drink. "I gave him a few days, but then I blocked his number. As much as I would like to understand, I don't think I can put myself through that."

"There are other guys out there," Nick said clapping him on the shoulder.

Blaine didn't have the energy to tell Nick that he had loved Kurt and getting over him wasn't as simple as going out and dating again. He couldn't tell him that he needed time to mourn what could have been. How could he explain the hole he felt in his gut at Kurt's absence? Instead he just nodded and stood to go order another drink.

By the time Blaine returned to his table, Nick must have told their friends what he had said. They tried harder to draw him out, to get him on the dance floor, but the music held no allure for Blaine; not tonight. Instead, he drowned his sorrow in alcohol, hoping to at least numb the ache for a while. Eventually, they left him alone to drink, keeping an eye on him as they tried to enjoy their night.

It was late when Blaine finally trudged his way back to his apartment. His mind was sluggish. At least he didn't have to think for a while. The cold, late October air stung his cheeks, and he hunched his shoulders against the biting wind. The warmth of the small lobby of his building burned his skin as he stumbled to his mailbox, fighting to insert his key in the small hole. A few letters filled the box and he mindlessly grabbed them before securing the box again. Alone in his empty apartment, he tossed the pile on the table by the door and flung himself in bed without bothering to undress or even turn on the light, just ready to welcome the oblivion of sleep.

The next morning, Blaine woke to the worst hangover he had ever had. He felt like death warmed over and hoped a hot shower and coffee would help. He stripped his clothes off, adding them to the growing piles on the floor before heading to the bathroom. Water beat unrelentingly down his back, washing away some of the sick feeling he had woken with. Feeling half alive, he stepped out of the shower and wrapped his towel around his waist. He took a washcloth and wiped the condensation off the mirror to assess the damage from last night.

His eyes were bloodshot and cradled by deep, purpled bags, his face pale and worn. Stubble dotted his cheeks, but he didn't have the energy to shave. Then his eyes fell to his tattoo stark against his wet skin. His heart clenched at the sight. As much as he wanted to hate it, wanted to not have the constant reminder of Kurt etched into his skin; he couldn't help but feel comfort from it. It was living proof that whatever Kurt may say on the subject, he had understood Blaine more deeply than anyone else ever had. He had seen Blaine, known him, and created something beautiful with that knowledge. He ran his hand over the notes, remembering the compassion Kurt had shown that day, a sad smile on his face.

When coffee didn't do the trick to make Blaine feel better, he ordered the greasiest meal he could find that would deliver, not wanting to leave the house unless he had to. Once it arrived, he thanked the delivery boy and opened the sack. The smell was intoxicating and for the first time in two weeks, he was famished. He demolished the bacon chili cheeseburger and large fries in record time. He felt full and surprisingly all right.

He looked around the apartment, appalled at what he saw. Clothes lay about in piles around the floor, take out containers and cans scattered across every flat surface. It was like waking up after a long sleep. He remembered not caring enough to pick up after himself but hadn't registered just how bad things had gotten. He still felt broken inside but knew we couldn't keep going like this. He had to force himself to move on; he couldn't dwell on the things he couldn't fix. He needed to put his life back together, starting with his apartment.

It took all day but by nightfall the apartment looked liveable again. Not for the first time, he was glad his apartment had a washer and dryer, although its small size meant that there was still some washing to be done, but the piles were now neatly stacked on the floor in front of it.

As he looked back around his apartment, he was pleased with what he saw. His eyes then fell on the small stack of letters on the entry table. He flipped through the stack, mostly sales papers, but two envelopes stood out among them. The first was a birthday card from his dotty aunt, who apparently didn't remember that he was persona non grata in the family.

Still smiling, he flipped over the second envelope and slit it open. His eyes skittered across the paper, not reading just trying to glean who it was from. They fell on the name at the bottom of the page. His stomach lurched when he read the name Kurt in shaky script.

He drew in a shuddering breath and walked to the couch were he flopped down, his knees feeling weak. He looked at the paper unseeing for a moment just wondering what Kurt could possibly have to say to him now, after everything.

Finally, he centered himself and began to read.

Blaine,

I know you probably don't want anything to do with me, and I honestly don't blame you, but I need to talk to you. I owe you an apology for the way I acted, and I want to explain. I hate the thought that I hurt you. It is killing me knowing what I did. I've tried to text and call, but since my calls keep going to voicemail, I think it is safe to assume that you have blocked my number. I thought about camping out in front of your apartment, but that seems a little too creepy. I want to give you the choice if you want to see me or not. I'll try to wait for your reply. You know how to contact me if you want to. I would love to hear from you.

-Kurt

Blaine inspected the letter, not just the words, but the strokes that created them and the splotches that smudged some. The words were obviously carefully chosen. He could see where Kurt had erased certain words, the letters replacing them wobbly in a way those surrounding them weren't. The splotches told Blaine that he had been crying while writing them, something Blaine could hardly believe. He resisted the urge to pick up the phone and call Kurt. As much as he wanted closure he wasn't sure if he was ready to listen to what Kurt had to say, if he was ready to open himself up to that kind of hurt. Not yet. In the end, he decided to see just how much Kurt was willing to let him set the terms.

From that day on, life got a little easier for Blaine to get through. He still felt bruised and wounded, but each day he felt a little more whole than the last. He found it easier to do his job, and he could listen to the music and not hear the echo of words in his head. He went out with friends, having to pretend less each time that he was enjoying himself.

October faded into November, the days turned even colder, and Blaine found himself smiling at the first snow. He still missed Kurt, and if he examined his feelings, he would have found that he still loved him, but he no longer felt on the verge of tears at the thought of him.

In mid-November another letter came. He knew what it was as soon as he pulled the envelope out of the mailbox. He felt like a vice grip was around his heart as he stared at it. It weighed heavy in his hand as he walked to his apartment. He tossed it on his bed and quickly changed into his pajamas and wrapped himself in a blanket before taking the letter up again. Something told him that he needed the comfort to face what lay in the letter. With shaky hands he slit the envelope open.

Blaine,

I haven't heard from you, and I know I said that I would wait, but I had to get this out. I can't let it go until I can get this out. You can read this when you are ready, even if that time is years from now.

Blaine paused, he wasn't sure if he was ready to hear what Kurt had to say, he wasn't ready for a second round of rejection, but if he didn't read it now, he was afraid he never would.

First I want to say that my reaction that night had next to nothing to do with you. I have a lot of baggage, and looking back on it I reacted inappropriately. If I regret anything in my life, I regret doing anything to hurt you. If I could go back and agree to a wonderful night on the town, I would. In fact, I am sorry we never had the chance, and I am sorry that it was my fault we didn't.

Growing up in Ohio, I was the only out kid I knew. I longed for romance and love more than anything else. I couldn't wait to get to New York, to be swept off my feet and live happily ever after. I was such a hopeless romantic, if you can believe that.

Blaine tried to picture a younger Kurt, watching his peers and yearning for what they had and took for granted. He knew that feeling well, having lived it throughout most of high school.

New York was not all I imagined it to be, though. My classmates were horrible, and I didn't have any friends, nor did I know how to meet people in such a big city. That first year, I think I was lonelier than I ever was back home. Romance was not in the air for me, it seemed. I didn't even have my first date until well into my sophomore year.

I met Ethan at a coffee shop. I was working on sketches for class, and he asked me about them. He was older, a senior accounting major at NYU. We were complete opposites. He was a little taken back when I told him I was working in a tattoo shop, but he didn't seem too bothered. I finally thought I was going to have my epic romance, but reality was a little different. I learned a lot about myself in the two years we were together; what I liked, what I didn't, what turned me on. I liked that we stayed home most nights,.I thought it was sweet he would sit with me while I practiced tattooing on whatever I could get my hands on. I thought things were going well. I was happy. Ethan wasn't though, it seems.

I came home late one day from helping at the shop, and Ethan was there, packing the few things he had at my place. When I asked him what was going on, I saw a completely different person. He spat ugly things at me, telling me I was too focused on a job that no respectful person would be caught dead doing. He was tired of me working such late nights. I think the most hurtful thing he said to me was that he had only stayed for the sex, but even that wasn't worth the hassle that it was dating me.

Blaine couldn't imagine a boyfriend, saying such hurtful things. All his own break ups had been fairly amicable. Even Kurt hadn't thrown hateful words at him.

I'm not the kind of person to let words get to me. I had enough ugliness thrown at me in high school, but to hear someone I thought loved me speak to me that way, to be called an inconvenience, and to have my love thrown back at me as not worth someone's time, it hurt.

I tried to move on. I dated a few different guys. But, have you ever been told something so many times you begin to believe it, even if you think there is no way it could be true? Each guy I was with said basically the same things. I was too distant, I was too needy, I worked too much, my hours were impossible to deal with. The only thing they seemed to agree on, my only saving grace, was I was a good fuck.

After a few years of that, I decided if sex was all I was good for then, so be it. I was tired of getting hurt, I was tired of opening my heart to someone only to be made to feel like I wasn't good enough. I vowed that I wouldn't let anyone else hurt me like that. If I didn't let anyone in, they couldn't hurt me.

Suddenly Kurt's guarded nature made more sense to Blaine. He wished he had known.

But I am not a eunuch, and I enjoyed sex. I wasn't ready to give that up. So I started my no dating, sex only rule. It was great for awhile. I could protect my heart, and the sex was fun. One night stands and the occasional booty call. I didn't feel anything for them, and so they had no power to hurt me. It worked for me.

Until it didn't.

Blaine's blood ran cold, he wasn't ready for Kurt to talk about them yet. As he continued reading he realized it wasn't him at all.

I had been seeing this one guy for a while. We had a thing kind of like you and me, but he wasn't anything like you. He was just an ordinary guy, the sex was fine, but there was no real spark there. One day he asked me if we could be something more. Even if I wanted a relationship, I wouldn't have chosen him. I could barely hold a conversation with him, so I knew a relationship wouldn't work. I turned him down as gently as I could, just told him I didn't think it was a good idea, and maybe we should stop seeing each other for a while.

I thought he took it well, all he asked for was one more night together, and he wanted to top. I used to love to bottom, not all the time, but just losing myself to pleasure without having to be in control was its own special intoxication. I agreed.

Blaine suddenly didn't want to know why Kurt no longer bottomed. With dread he forced himself to read on.

Things started out like normal, if a little hurried on his part. I didn't think anything of it. But then, he was rough, rougher than usual. He held me down hard and just took what he wanted. He didn't care that he was hurting me, or that I was crying and my erection was gone; he didn't relent. I was more scared than I have ever been in my life. It's taken me a long time to come to terms with what really happened to me. I never thought about it as rape, because I consented, and I never actually said no, or told him to stop. The words wouldn't come, I couldn't breathe with the pain and his pressure on me. It's only been in the last couple of months after I opened up about it to other people, that I realized that I was raped.

Blaine felt sick to his stomach, a tear escaping his eye. He had no idea Kurt had been through something like that. He was still hurt and mad but wouldn't wish that on his worst enemy.

When he finished, I knew something was wrong, more wrong than what had just happened to me. He claimed the condom broke, I couldn't bring myself to see if it really had. I was always safe before, safer than most of my partners thought necessary, and suddenly none of that mattered anymore. He tried to make light of it saying he was clean, but I'd only known him a couple of months, and he had just shown me he was someone I couldn't trust.

I had always been diligent about getting tested every 6 months, but never before was I terrified about the results.

Blaine always felt testing was a necessary evil but had never worried about what the results would be. He couldn't imagine living with that uncertainty.

I swore off men all together. I wasn't good enough for anyone to date, and I couldn't face the prospect of casual sex, not while feeling like a walking time bomb. I was tested right away, but I knew I wasn't in the clear for at least a year.

I focused on myself in that time, all the while fearing what a positive test result would mean. It wouldn't only ruin my health and my life but also my career. HIV is rarely spread while tattooing, but the stigma alone could have been enough to wreck it.

I had told Elliott only about the condom break. I pushed the other thing out of my mind, not ready to face it. We decided to open the shop together. Our thought was that if I didn't feel comfortable tattooing, I could at least run things. My final test result came back negative just before we were set to open.

I already told you that things were rough when we first opened, barely scraping by. Even though I knew I was clean, I still couldn't bring myself to go back to the way things were before. I missed sex but not enough to put myself in that position again.

I was working hard, and it seemed like enough.

Then in January, business picked up, and for the first time we were making real money. Elliott convince me to go out and celebrate. We ended up going to an old dive bar we used to go to when we were still just poor apprentices, for old times' sake.

And then I saw you.

Blaine put the letter down and threw the blankets off. He wasn't ready to hear Kurt talk about them. He couldn't keep reading. He paced his apartment, needing to move, wanting to distance himself from the words on the paper. This was all too much. He never imagined Kurt's past before. Now that he knew what kind of lens Kurt was seeing their relationship through, he couldn't face it. He couldn't ignore it for long. He had been longing for closure; he needed to know everything. So he scrambled back in bed and picked up the papers.

You were absolutely mesmerizing, dancing with such abandon, led purely by the music. I couldn't keep my eyes off you. No matter where you were, my eyes were drawn to you. Of course Elliott noticed. He didn't know the whole story, just enough to explain my change, but he kept telling me to go for it. I tried to tell him all the reasons why I shouldn't. I didn't want to go down that road again, I was happy alone, I didn't need the complication in my life, so much bullshit about why I shouldn't. I was ready to walk out of the bar, and he said to me, 'Stop letting yourself be afraid to feel. You can't guard yourself forever.' I knew he was right, I just wasn't sure how to do it.

That first night I was ready to lose myself to you. I meant it when I said we could be something more. I was ready to try again for real, but I woke up the next morning, and you were gone.

Blaine tried to hold back his tears, knowing that he was part of the reason they hadn't been a couple from the start. He was also angry at Kurt for not giving him that chance.

After we met at the coffee shop, I wasn't sure what I wanted. In the end I was too scared to let you in completely and convinced myself it was better to guard my heart as I had before.

But being with you, it got to be too much. No matter what I tried, my walls weren't strong enough to keep you out. You would murmur questions, and I couldn't stop myself from answering. I wanted to learn about you, too. You made me feel so much, and it scared the shit out of me, but not seeing you was worse. When I told you that the shop was crazy, that was only partially true. We were busy, but I was also actively avoiding you. I needed the distance.

It gave Blaine little comfort to know that Kurt had tried to distance himself from him and his feelings.

I tried. I tried to stay away, but I couldn't sleep. I would lay awake at night wondering; if I was doing the right thing, what you were doing, if you missed me, too. When I saw you at the restaurant, you looked so sad, and I couldn't stand the fact that I was hurting both of us. Life was so much better with you in it. I was still scared, but I couldn't stay away, and I couldn't keep lying to myself.

Blaine wanted to know what he was lying to himself about. He hoped in a sadistic way Kurt loved him, too, but couldn't imagine it would be true.

Sitting on your floor eating take-out together, laughing and talking, it was the best night of my life. It felt so natural just being with you. When I didn't have to think, when I could just be with you, it was easy. You made me happy. I wanted to try, I wanted just to be with you, I wanted to be happy. I was happy, in those moments we were together. I was happier than I had ever been. The problem was the times we weren't together. Doubts kept creeping in, I kept waiting for the time when you would realize that I wasn't worth the hassle.

Blaine wanted to yell at Kurt; he wished he was there so he could shake him and point out that he happily met him whenever he could. He never thought of him as an inconvenience. He loved spending every moment he could with him.

Still, I was determined to try. I tried to show you how I felt in little ways; whispered words into your skin, being more open with you, my art.

Blaine remembered the way Kurt would whisper unheard words, and how much more he would talk about his life. He just wasn't sure what he meant by art, unless he was talking about Blaine's tattoo.

I wanted so much to be with you, have a real relationship, but I was scared.

When you asked me to do something on your birthday, at first I couldn't understand why you wouldn't want to spend time with your friends. As soon as I asked, when you said my name, I was so afraid of what you would say.

But when you said I meant the most to you, that you loved me. I couldn't believe it. I couldn't believe that it was true. See, how could you love me when I couldn't love myself, when it has been proven time and time again that I am unlovable and never what someone wants for long?

Blaine wished Kurt had stayed, would have waited and listened. Blaine wished he could have told Kurt how amazing he was.

I couldn't breathe, I couldn't think. The world felt like it was closing in on me, and I just had to get out of there. I hadn't had a panic attack in over a year, but I couldn't control it. I ran for a couple of blocks before I just collapsed on the sidewalk. I don't remember much, just not being able breathe, being cold, and crying. Some women found me, stopped, asked if I needed help, if they could call someone. I must have said Elliott's name because he came and picked me up. He got me calmed down, and I told him everything.

Blaine wished Kurt had talked to him. He wished his was the name Kurt had said. Maybe things would be different, maybe Blaine wouldn't be so wounded and raw at the thought of Kurt.

It was the first time I ever told anyone everything. I've opened up to people more about parts of it since then, but only a few people know it all: Elliott, my therapist, and now you. When my dad comes for Thanksgiving, I plan to tell him.

While Elliott was understanding, he also yelled at me for being a dumbass. He pointed out to me that while lying is easy, it is hard to act like you care for someone.

Blaine was glad that someone finally told Kurt what he needed to hear, even if it wasn't him. He did wonder why he hadn't heard from Kurt. That was what hurt the most.

I realize now that I lost something special when I pushed you away. I am so sorry. I don't expect you to forgive me. I just wanted you to understand that I am not the asshole you must think I am. My past doesn't excuse my actions. I know that. I am working on my issues. I've started painting again, just having that outlet. Being able to create just for me and not a client, it's helping. I'm seeing a therapist a couple of times a week. She told me to write this letter, although I doubt she intended for me to send it.

Blaine was glad Kurt was getting help; from the sounds of it he needed it long ago. It didn't ease Blaine's pain, though.

I needed you to know everything. That includes the hardest things for me to admit.

I loved you. (I still do, but I know that I have ruined my chance with you. I am coming to terms with it, and maybe one day I can move on.)

Blaine couldn't hold back his tears. The ache in his chest grew. He longed for Kurt, but as much as he loved him, he didn't know if he could put himself through it again.

I knew for a long time. I just couldn't tell you, but I did do something in my own way to show you, and I hate myself for it. I lied to you, about your tattoo. They aren't just random notes. I'm including the original sketch. If you want to cover it up Elliott has offered to do it for free. Just call the shop, and Baby can set it up. I won't be there.

I hope you find happiness. That is all I want for you, to be happy.

I am sorry for everything,

Kurt

Blaine shuffled the paper to the back, behind it was a perfect representation of his tattoo, except for the staff lines now added. Blaine clutched the papers to himself and cried. He couldn't bring himself to find out what songs Kurt chose to ink into his skin forever. Instead, he laid in bed and thought about all the things he had learned about Kurt. He didn't know if it changed things for him. He had a lot to think about.