Author's Note:

This chapter (Kurt's POV) is as angsty as the one that came before, but I promise you a happy ending, cross my heart. Hang in there, please! They will sort things out in the end!

Thank you so much to everyone who sends me feedback - you're wonderful and you spur me on to keep writing :-)

Chapter 15: A Nasty Shock

Kurt had to hand it to R/GA's PR department: they knew how to throw a party. The venue they'd hired was upscale and tastefully decorated, the drinks and the finger food were of good quality, and the music was excellent and would get even better once Justin Timberlake arrived.

Standing there talking to Joanne and Peter, Blaine's hand warm and comforting on his lower back, Kurt felt his apprehension about the party fade away. He'd dreaded coming here, but perhaps he'd been too hasty to condemn Sebastian and his pursuit of Blaine. He'd seen hide nor hair of him so far, and he hoped it would stay that way, so that he and Blaine could enjoy the evening.

When Sebastian finally did turn up, Blaine was just gone to the restroom. Perfect. Kurt hoped that Blaine would stay away until Sebastian had moved on to another group of people. The guy got on his nerves, though, first touching Joanne in a way that made her feel uncomfortable, and then slapping Kurt's ass out of the blue.

Kurt slapped Sebastian's hand right back and made him leave with a flea in his ear. Honestly! Did the guy have NO sense of boundaries?

Blaine came back with happy tidings – there would be karaoke later! And Blaine wanted to sing with Kurt!

Now that the Sebastian threat had passed, Kurt relaxed and had a good time. Justin Timberlake was a great performer – and easy on the eyes – and Kurt happily bopped to the beat. Every now and then, he snuck a glance at Blaine next to him, who was dancing with abandon and cracked Kurt up with his dorky moves.

Towards the end of the concert, though, Kurt got a nasty shock when his head turned Blaine's way again.

Sebastian had found Blaine, and was plastered against him, his front against Blaine's back. Blaine, far from jumping away and berating Sebastian, wriggled even closer, his ass against Sebastian's crotch, his eyes closed and the corners of his mouth turned up into a wide smile.

Kurt felt as if someone had just dumped a bucket of ice water over him. Numb and cold to the bone, he watched the nightmare unfold – Blaine and Sebastian, moving sinuously to the music, until Sebastian was quite clearly thrusting more than dancing, grinding his hard-on against Blaine's ass.

Still, Blaine seemed content. He didn't move away at all. He didn't grimace. He grinned. He seemed to really enjoy Sebastian's attentions.

So that's what I should have done, is it? Jump Blaine's bones from the get-go?

Kurt shuddered. No, that wasn't his style at all.

Justin Timberlake ended his last song to loud applause, and Kurt clapped politely.

Well, if Sebastian is who Blaine wants, I won't cramp his style. But I need to sing a song to get all these feelings out before they choke me…

So Kurt headed to the karaoke machine, and signed up for the first slot. Of course, the song he wanted wasn't available, but he told Sandra he'd sing it without musical accompaniment.

As soon as he started singing, all his feelings rushed through him and poured out into the song – the love he felt, the uncertainty Blaine had kept him in, the anger and the sadness that caused, and now the heartbreak caused by Blaine choosing Sebastian over him.

Kurt sang most of the song with his eyes closed. When he opened them again, the first person he saw was Blaine, alone now, and looking at him starry-eyed and beaming.

In his head, he heard Mr Zakharov's mocking voice, "Up to his old tricks, is he, Blaine? Making you feel like you're the only boy in the world to him and then friend-zoning you?"

Yes, that was exactly what Blaine did. Over, and over, and over. But Kurt wasn't going to fall for it again. Ever. No way. He'd been putting up with it for far too long already, and he'd reached his limit. He'd had it with Blaine and his running hot and cold. Yes, he loved him, and that would probably ache for the rest of his life, but this was not a healthy situation to stay in, so he needed to get out of it. Now. No doubt Rachel would let him crash at her place until he got another dog sitting assignment.

As soon as Kurt had finished singing, he hopped off the stage and ran to the exit, already checking his pockets for his subway card and figuring out which line he needed to take to get from this venue to Bushwick.

Someone followed him, and as soon as that person spoke, Kurt knew it was Blaine. He turned around and let Blaine have it.

Blaine, who'd never experienced true Kurt Hummel snark or glares so far, shrank back, but that didn't stop Kurt at all. He decimated Blaine, and then walked off without another look.

Blaine pursued him, pleaded with him and then offered to kiss him.

That made Kurt see red, and once again he tore into Blaine, viciously. If he really thought that Kurt was that much of a doormat, he had another think coming. Seriously? Ten minutes ago, Blaine was dry-humping with another guy right in front of Kurt, and now he was expecting Kurt to brush that off as if it were nothing and skip into the sunset with him? Delusional!

Blaine, instead of apologising, turned into a dog.

Well, isn't that just typical! Anything to avoid a confrontation…

Blaine whined, and Kurt instantly felt a pull towards him, to pet him and soothe him and tell him it would all be okay. He straightened his back and forced himself not to move a muscle, except to say that he couldn't deal with this right now. He truly couldn't. One week with Blaine the adorable dog and he'd cave for sure.

And then he jumped out of his skin when someone said, "Let me."

Who had followed them into the hall and had been eavesdropping?

It proved to be Professor Scher, and she offered to look after Blaine while he was a dog.

Kurt, tired and defeated, agreed to that and handed over Blaine's collar and leash, turning his back on Blaine and walking away.

Blaine let out a howl so full of pain and despair that it seared through Kurt's body and stopped him short.

Don't look back. Don't look back!

But Kurt, always the masochist, did so anyway, and Blaine's stricken expression almost brought him to his knees. Why did Blaine have to have such expressive eyes? So. Unfair.

And then Blaine's eyes turned pleading, and again Kurt felt that pull, but then he remembered what had happened before. That betrayal was still fresh enough to make him choke and tear up, and before he knew it, he was at the subway station, panting and his spleen protesting violently at having had to run so hard.

Now that Professor Scher was taking Blaine home, Kurt decided to go to Blaine's apartment first and pack up all his stuff, so that he wouldn't need to go back there. It didn't take him long. Thanks to his dog-sitting experiences, he'd become an expert at packing, knowing exactly how to roll up and stack everything to fill his suitcase to its maximum capacity in record time.

On his way to Bushwick, he took the key marked 'Devon' off his keychain and flipped it over and over in his hand. He'd leave it at Trent and Ashton's. He had no business keeping it. Still, as he looked at the metal warming on his palm, his first instinct was to close his fist around it. Mine!

Well, you thought that about Blaine, too, and look how that turned out, snapped a snide voice in his head.

Kurt sighed and put the key in his inside pocket.

By the time Kurt had climbed the stairs to the loft with his luggage, he was worn out, and wanted nothing more than to fall face first onto a bed and sleep. But when he pulled open the dragging door, what he saw made him yelp and want to wash his brain with bleach.

Rachel was lying on the sofa, naked, and a guy was kneeling in front of her, eating her out.

Ugh, ugh, ugh!

Kurt shuddered and threw his hands over his eyes just as Rachel shrieked "Kurt!" and scrambled to cover herself.

A moment later, Rachel yelled at him, "What are you doing here?"

But Kurt paid her no mind. He had recognised the guy who was with her, and hissed, "Jesse? How dare you show your face here! You cursed Finn! He died because of you!"

Jesse huffed. "Not that again… I explained to Rachel that I DIDN'T curse Finn. How could I? I don't have any magic. No-one in my family does. All I meant back then was that Rachel and Finn were never meant to be. They were just too different."

Jesse put his arm around Rachel and kissed her cheek. "Now, Rachel and me, THAT's a great match. Both excellent singers and dancers and actors, ambitious and driven…"

Kurt raised an eyebrow and thought, "… and full of yourselves."

Rachel repeated, "Kurt, what are you doing here?"

"I texted you," Kurt said. "I had a place to stay lined up, but it fell through last minute. Can I please crash here tonight? Tomorrow I'll be off to Ohio for Christmas."

Rachel looked at Jesse, who shrugged.

"Sure," Rachel said. "But… Jesse's living here too, now. So…"

Kurt rolled his eyes. "I'll be out of your hair tomorrow by six a.m. at the latest, I swear. I won't cramp your style. I just need a place to sleep, and access to a shower, and half a shelf in the fridge, that's all."

Rachel nodded. "Okay."

"My bed's still over there?" Kurt asks, pointing to the partition wall behind which used to be his 'room'.

"Yep."

"Then I'm going to shower and get into bed. Goodnight!"

Kurt didn't wait for an answer, wheeling his suitcase to his part of the loft, stripping quickly and hopping into the shower.

In bed, he'd expected to fall asleep straightaway, as exhausted as he was, but sleep eluded him. He'd gotten so used to sleeping with Blaine that he couldn't sleep without him anymore.

Well, isn't that just great…

After a few hours of tossing and turning, he grabbed his phone and looked up sleep aids. He ended up buying an inflatable boyfriend pillow, to be sent to his father's address.

Yep. I'm officially pathetic.

K&B

Of course, when he arrived in Ohio, the first thing Burt asked was why he hadn't brought Blaine.

"I don't want to talk about it, Dad."

Burt gave him a piercing look, but didn't press the issue.

Of course, when Carole came home from her shift, she also asked after Blaine.

Kurt, already moving in for a hug, stiffened and turned away. "He's not coming."

Carole frowned. "Why not?"

Kurt gritted his teeth. "Because. I'll be in my room if you need me."

He went to his room, flopped down on the bed and cried himself to sleep.

When he woke up, it was late afternoon. The daylight was dimming into dusk already, his head hurt like hell and his mouth felt like sandpaper.

Knock-knock.

"Come in," Kurt croaked, and Carole slipped into the room, closing the door behind her.

"I didn't want you to sleep too long or you won't be able to sleep tonight," Carole said, sitting down on the bed.

Kurt shrugged.

"What's the matter, sweetie?" Carole asked, gently smoothing his bangs out of his face. "Did you and Blaine break up?"

Kurt scoffed. "For that, we would have had to be dating first."

"But it felt like you were well on your way there," Carole protested. "I really thought…"

"Yeah, me too."

Kurt's throat was thick as he forced the words out, and Carole's expression turned even more concerned. "What happened?"

"He likes someone else better."

Saying it out loud felt like ripping off a plaster, and Kurt couldn't help the tears that sprung up in his eyes.

Carole switched to bafflement. "Are you sure? That boy worships the floor you walk on!"

"Quite sure. Yes. He left no room for doubt."

And that dry statement set Kurt off on another bout of ugly sobbing. Carole hastened to take him into her arms and hold him tight.

When Kurt resurfaced, his nose and eyes red and his headache now blinding, Carole patted him on the arm. "I'm going to make you a nice cup of chamomile tea, and then we're going to watch some Christmas movies on television, with the cinnamon cookies I've just taken out of the oven. Come along."

Sweets and tea and feel-good television couldn't heal his heart, but they did make him feel slightly better.

Burt thankfully didn't mention Blaine again the rest of the day, and didn't ask why Kurt had been crying. Before he and Carole went to bed, though, Burt hugged his son, long and tight, and dropped a kiss on the crown of his head.

Christmas was a quiet affair. Kurt didn't feel like cooking, so Carole whipped something up. The conversation at the table was halting and a bit stilted, as they all had a hard time avoiding the elephant in the room.

After dinner, Kurt excused himself to his room and worked for school. He debated e-mailing Professor Scher to ask if there was any way he could take the rest of his graphic design classes with her instead of Blaine, but decided that was too petty and childish. He could conquer this. He could.

I can't promise to be civil to Sebastian, though. I hate him. Out of so many people he could have picked at that party, he goes for Blaine. Was that to spite me because I slapped his hand? And what does Sebastian have that I don't?

Money, his mind supplied. Sex appeal. Experience.

Hey, you're supposed to make me feel better, not worse, Kurt protested, and then he laughed, because he was arguing with himself, and how ridiculous was that?

K&B

A few days after Christmas, the dog agency called him with a new dog-sitting assignment. Poodles, this time, and he'd be looking after them for six weeks.

Kurt accepted eagerly, and just after New Year's, he rolled his suitcase into his new temporary home. The poodles were nice, but their tight black curls made him think of another dog with a dark curly coat, a sweet and cuddly playmate that he missed more than he could say.

At night, the inflatable boyfriend pillow proved invaluable to help him fall asleep. However pathetic it might be, the illusion of having an arm around him was comforting.

He dropped in at Trent and Ashton's place and gave them the key to Blaine's apartment. They didn't seem surprised, only sad, so Blaine must have briefed them already.

"Are you sure you don't want to hold on to it?" Trent asked tentatively.

Kurt squared his jaw. "Quite sure, thank you."

"He thought it was you, you know," Ashton said.

"Uhm, what?"

"Blaine. He thought it was you hugging him from behind."

Kurt rolled his eyes. "Seriously? He thought I'd dry-hump him in public? And how could he not tell the difference between me and Sebastian?"

"I know, right?" Trent shouted. "I asked him that too, and he said he smelled a whiff of Creed Green Irish Tweed. And that made him think it was you. He said you borrow his perfume sometimes."

Kurt bit his lip. "That's true. I like having his scent around me. And he's always more affectionate when I smell like him. Probably a dog trait he's adopted. Still. He should have checked. He broke my heart."

"And his own into the bargain," Ashton said. "He's really depressed."

Kurt glared at Ashton. "That's not MY fault! He can't blame anyone but himself. I've been clear about my feelings from the very beginning. He's the one who kept me hanging and then dry-humped with some other guy."

"He'd never have done that if he hadn't thought it was you," Trent pointed out. "He's never felt sexually attracted to anyone except you."

Kurt raised an eyebrow. "And you know that how?"

Trent clammed up, shifty-eyed.

Ashton giggled. "Trent promised not to tell, but I didn't, so… Blaine has been having sex dreams about you. And he talked about it with Trent, 'cause he thought something was wrong with him. He felt horrible about having those dreams."

Kurt frowned. "As in… he's never had such dreams before? About anyone? Really? That's weird."

Trent shrugged. "I guess he's asexual. Or demi, seeing as he's into you."

Kurt processed that for a moment. "Right. That's… kind of comforting to know. I thought… I really thought he was into Sebastian."

Trent made a face. "Ugh, no. He said the guy gives him the creeps. That he wanted to punch his teeth out for touching him that way."

That made Kurt laugh. "Boxer Blaine in action. Wouldn't that have been great…"

Kurt eyed the key on the table, then looked away. "I'm still not going back to him, though. If he wants me, he'll need to PROVE it to me. I'm not going to throw myself away on someone who refuses to commit. I deserve better than that."

"We'll pass on the message," Ashton promised.

"But no stalking me!" Kurt continued. "I don't want to bump into him wherever I go. And no harassing me in class either. Tell him to give me space."

"We will," said Ashton.

"We're on your side," Trent added. "Blaine has been taking you for granted. It's good that he got this wake-up call. We'll kick his butt into gear, don't worry."

Kurt nodded and got up. "I need to get going. Dogs to walk."

"We still on for jogging tomorrow?" Trent asked.

"Yep. See you then!"

K&B

The next evening, when Kurt and the poodles met up with Trent to go jogging, Trent was grinning ear to ear.

"Wow, you're in a good mood," said Kurt.

"Yep."

"Want to share with the class?"

Trent grinned wider. "Later."

After half an hour, they slowed to a halt.

"Well, I'm going to take these ladies back home," Kurt announced, crouching down and scratching one of the poodles under the chin.

Trent zipped his jacket open, and took out a plastic bag containing something rectangular. "Take this, too."

Kurt accepted the bag and peeked in it. He saw a letter and a long slim box with 'You bring colour to my life' written on it in gold lettering.

"From Blaine?" he guessed.

He peeked inside the box, and saw a neat row of colourful macarons.

Trent winked and scampered off, shouting over his shoulder, "Enjoy! I got a box, too, for playing delivery boy."

"Sweet tooth!" Kurt laughed. He put the box back into the bag and walked back to the apartment he was staying at with a spring in his step.

He waited until bedtime to open the letter, and smiled when he recognised Blaine's handwriting.

"Dearest Kurt,

I should have told you long before what I was starting to feel for you. You've always been open with me, and I admire you for that, but I was scared. Scared because these feelings were new to me, and so strong they overwhelmed me at times.

You came into my life and turned it upside down. You dazzled me. With your smile, your wit, your inspired designs, your honesty and the friendship you offered without asking anything in return.

It's as if I was living in Dorothy's Kansas and you brought me to Oz. Suddenly, life had so much more colour and vibrancy to it, because I had you.

I'm sending you macarons today, because I want to be the colour in your life as well. I made these for you. Lemon, for the zing of your retorts. Pistachio, for your delightful nuttiness and the laughs we've shared. Chocolate, for the richness of your talent. Rose, for your sense of fashion and your flair. Salted caramel, for all the ways in which you keep surprising me in the most delightful way. Raspberry, for how bright you shine and how much you stand out. Passionfruit, for your passion and your drive. And last but not least coffee, for the kick that you give to any conversation, to each new idea.

You are so stimulating, so innovative, such a bright star. I miss you in my sky.

Please come back whenever you're ready. I'll be waiting for you.

With all my love,

Blaine"