Disclaimer: I do not own Glee.
AN: So, sorry it took me over a month, but my life has been a little crazy between closing down my store and finding a new job and having a sister who likes to steal my computer charger. But here, this is about 15,000 words and a lot of things happening, so maybe that will make up for it.
-obligatory smut warning-
CHAPTER EIGHT
=:= two years later =:=
BLAINE
The music in the bar was loud, but it did nothing to drown out Rachel's laughter as they spun around on the floor. There weren't many people dancing, but the ones that were had moved off to the edge, giving them plenty of room as Rachel twirled, her skirt a whirlwind around her knees. Blaine caught her by the waist, gently guiding her back towards him and she fell into his arms. Trust shone in her eyes, a keen as her gasp of surprise, and he cradled her in his hands, dipping her low until her loose hair almost touched the ground. She grinned broadly as she stood back up, the music fading as the song in the jukebox changed.
"That was unexpected," Rachel breathed in quick little pants, a flush brightening her cheeks; there were many times over the course of his knowing Rachel that Blaine though she never looked more beautiful than when she had a blush under her skin, and this was no exception.
"A little spontaneity goes a long way," he quipped, holding her hand high about her head and spinning her once more, catching her back to him as she came to a graceful halt, "don't you think?"
"In our lives," she murmured softly, a strange touch of longing embedded in her words, "it certainly does."
Before Blaine could respond – whether in agreement or in question, he couldn't be sure - a gruff voice called from behind the bar. "Anderson, your break's been over for ten minutes now!"
"Just keeping the customer happy!" Blaine shouted over his shoulder at Marco, who only snorted in return before yelling at him to get his happy ass back behind the counter. He dropped Rachel's hand as they made their way through the relatively busy crowd. As Blaine ducked under the divider and moved to wash his hands in the sink hidden under the brew station, Rachel took her seat next to Jesse, placing a small kiss to his lips before he gulped down the last of his beer.
"I'll have another one of those. If you're done dancing with my girlfriend, that is," Jesse said with an easy smile that didn't match the burn in his eyes. Blaine merely rolled his own and refilled Jesse's glass, ignoring the way Jesse looped his arm around Rachel's shoulders with a possessiveness that was just short of standing on the bar and beating his chest. His friendship with Rachel had somehow come to change his friendship with Jesse: where they had once been mutual respect, there was suspicion and jealousy on Jesse's part, and a general irritation and distaste on Blaine's. And though they both knew the deterioration of what Blaine would have once called a close friendship was centered around Rachel, it was for Rachel's sake that they kept a cordial enough acquaintance.
Four years, Jesse and Rachel had been together, but there was still nothing Blaine could ever say that would convince Jesse that Blaine's feelings for Rachel would always be platonic while Rachel wanted Jesse in the picture; and while Blaine wanted Kurt. Any romantic inclinations he had towards Rachel, such as they were, had been put aside. Still, Jesse seemed to take offense to every little touch they shared, every joke, every hint that they had ever been anything more than friends, and if it wasn't for the pain it caused Rachel, then Blaine would have found a kind of twisted satisfaction in getting under Jesse's skin as so few could.
"Where's Kurt?" Blaine asked with a pointed look in Jesse's direction as if reminding the other man that Blaine had his own boyfriend to worry about.
"Yes, where did Kurt run off to?" Rachel echoed, scanning the crowd as best she could from the bar stool. "It's not like him to disappear. He doesn't really like it here."
"I can't believe you two used to sneak in here," Jesse retorted, his fingers tracing the rim on his untouched refill. "It's a dump. Of all the places in New York you could sneak in to drink in, you chose this one."
"And now I work here," Blaine interrupted, shaking a mixed drink into a glass for a pretty blonde boy whose ID had said he was 21 leaning against the bar. He slid it across the counter, taking the carefully folded ten dollar bill from the blonde, who told him to keep the change, giggling as Blaine winked at him in thanks. Blaine shook his head in humor as the boy walked away before turning back to Jesse. "And you get to drink here for free, so unless you want me to cut you off, I suggest you be nice about Marco's bar."
"It is kind of funny," Rachel said with a slight nervous chuckle, the same one she used whenever he and Jesse would start being snide to each other, "that Marco owns this bar now, considering he would let us drink when we were under age, and even more so that he hired you."
"Marco's a good guy," Blaine shrugged, "and you're the one who told me I needed to get a better job than Starbucks if I wanted to stay in school until I completed my Masters degree."
"I didn't mean in a bar!" Rachel laughed, "and I certainly didn't intend for you to still be here after a year."
"I make good tips here," Blaine said with a carefree shrug, shaking his full tip jar in front of her.
"He's making more money on a nightly basis than all of us combined," Kurt agreed as he joined them once more, leaning over the bar to place a quick kiss to Blaine's cheek and asking for a dry martini . "Out of all the classes we took at NYADA, persistent unemployment was not one of them."
"We're not unemployed," Rachel insisted.
"Well Jesse is," Blaine couldn't resist the urge to say and didn't even have to look up from mixing Kurt's drink to know Jesse was outright glaring at him. The venom in his voice as he responded was enough.
"I'm freelance," Jesse spat and Blaine forced down the desire to laugh in his face. "Just because I haven't done anything in over a month doesn't mean I don't have opportunities."
"And there are several studios looking for instructors," Rachel said gently, a hand wrapped around his upper arm as he guzzled his beer. "He interviewed today for a permanent position teaching contemporary dance techniques just today."
"It must have gone well," Blaine teased, "for you to come see me at work immediately after."
"Screw you Anderson," Jesse grumbled.
"I'll have to ask Kurt first," Blaine retorted immediately while passing Kurt his drink, who was openly glaring at him, but it was a small price to pay for rendering Jesse practically speechless.
"Boys, please," Rachel said with a sigh as she stood up, angling her body between Jesse and Blaine as if there wasn't already a bulky wooden counter separating them. . "Jesse have a wonderful interview today. I went to my final call back for Mamma Mia today and Kurt is on the short list to join a rather exclusive company as a potential director. I don't think any of us, despite how unemployed we feel, have anything to be ashamed of."
"I didn't mean to say you did," Blaine interrupted, a little taken aback.
"I know you didn't, which is why there's no need to fight about it."" Rachel said kindly as she turned to Jesse, "Now I'm not done dancing. Would you care to join me?"
Jesse shot Blaine an unneeded triumphant smirk as he let Rachel lead him away from the bar and into a dark corner on the makeshift dance floor. He watched them a moment as Rachel held Jesse close to her and they swayed to music in a minimal way. He knew they were both much better dancers than they were currently showing; but Rachel wasn't trying to dance, he realized, but rather talk. Her lips moved quickly, Jesse's in return, and though he had no hope of knowing what their conversation were about, Blaine hoped it wouldn't end up in a fight as so many of their 'talks' did nowadays.
"I don't know why you have to bait him" Kurt sighed next to him, giving voice to the twinge of guilt Blaine now felt. He tore his gaze from the dancing couple and focused on Kurt instead with an apologetic smile. "Honestly, you two act like you're not even friends."
"Maybe we're not anymore," Blaine suggested, a whisper of sadness in the statement. "We never did have much in common."
"Well no one can argue that," Kurt laughed as he sipped his martini. "I think the only thing you two ever really shared any interest in is Rachel."
Blaine nearly dropped the beer mug he was filling up on his foot. The man who had ordered it screamed something about not using the newly sticky glass and Blaine willed his hand to stop shaking as he reach for a new one as he apologized and slid the beer across to the man who left in a grumble. "Rachel?" Blaine repeated when he turned back to Kurt, wiping away the beer he has spilled on the counter. "What does Rachel have to do with it?"
"I'm just saying that she's the only thing you and Jesse have in common," Kurt glanced at him curiously. "She's your best friend, he's her boyfriend, you both think you know what's best of her. And since she's more likely to take your advice over his, I guess it's no wonder you and Jesse fight like Finn and a loofa."
"How is Finn, by the way?"
"He's fine: married, baby, tire and car shop. He's happy, but," Kurt said, "that's not what we're talking about; I was trying to talk about you and Rachel."
"I thought we were talking about Jesse," Blaine said in deflection.
"By association, maybe," Kurt said briskly as if it were his way of brushing Jesse out of the way. He reached across the counter and took hold of Blaine's hand, their fingers automatically intertwining. "Don't get me wrong, I love that you two are such good friends, but I can see why he gets so upset with you. You're the one Rachel goes to over any little thing. You have this hold over her or something. She has the same one over you."
"She's just been through a lot with me," Blaine insisted, squeezing Kurt's hand gently in a gesture of assurance. "Though all my fights with you, and that minor identity crisis I had when I decided to go after a double major in music and business. And I wouldn't have made it through Michelle's funeral without her, especially after I pushed you away."
"I know that," Kurt smiled sadly. "Even two years later, I know that for whatever reason, you needed her more than you needed me then. I'll never figure it out, but there it is."
"Kurt-."
"It's fine," he said quickly, sitting back in his seat. "Jesse's not that understanding though, so even if you don't like each other anymore, you don't have to always remind him that Rachel likes you better."
"That's ridiculous," Blaine scoffed, throwing his sopping wet rag into the sink. "She loves him."
"Of course she does," Kurt said as if it were the most obvious thing in the world, "but that doesn't mean she likes him all the time."
"Well do you like me all the time?" Blaine asked curiously.
"No," Kurt laughed, looking down at his nearly empty drink, "but I'm hopelessly in love with you, so there's a lot I can forgive you for."
"I love you too," Blaine said with a smile, reaching for Kurt's hand again and holding it until Kurt returned his smile, albeit a bit nervously. He could tell there was more that Kurt wanted to say and it was uncommon for Kurt to hold back from any subject. "Okay, out with it," Blaine demanded, lazily tickling Kurt's wrist.
"I'm not sure this is something I want to talk about in a bar," was Kurt's vague answer, but Blaine's insistent gaze must have convinced him otherwise as Kurt scooted his stool as close to the counter as he could, leaning over to get closer still until he could properly whisper his thoughts to Blaine. "I know we're still young, and obviously this would be a long way off, but have you ever thought about us having a family?"
Blaine choked in surprise; he hadn't really had an inclination to what Kurt might say, but this he hadn't expected at all. "A fam- like a baby?"
"I guess," Kurt said shyly, then shook his head and spoke with a steady voice. "No, that's exactly what I mean. It's just, after spending the week with Finn and his new little boy, I can't help but think about how that's something I want. How it's something I want with you."
"Yeah but," Blaine said in a rush, unable to keep the slight note of panic out of his voice, "we're not in any position to have a baby. Forget the fact that we're not married or that we can't just 'accidentally' have a child like other couples can – Kurt, we're barely making it financially as it is. If you get this job in the company, we'll be better off but it'll be nowhere near enough to support a baby. And I still have one more year before I have my masters degrees and then I have to find a job and-."
"I know, okay?" Kurt hissed at him and it wasn't until that moment Blaine realized how loud he had gotten. "I know all that, you don't have to lecture me. I've already been looking into it and for a couple like us-"
"You've been looking into it?"
Kurt carried on as if Blaine hadn't spoken. "It takes a long time, that's all I'm saying. I'm 25 now, and you're only a year younger than me. If this is something we even think we might want, it wouldn't hurt to be prepared for it now, so that when we're 30 or whatever, it doesn't take us another five years to figure it all out."
Blaine ran his fingers through his hair, the curls tangling around his hand. "I don't know what to say," he whispered as quietly as he could, "but you're right, this is not a discussion we should have in a bar."
"Just think about it," Kurt pleaded, as if that wasn't going to be the only think Blaine could think about for the rest of the night. "Keep an open mind. Like I said, it's still probably a long way off."
It was at that exact moment that the jukebox finally ran through it's current queue and a flood of customers surrounded the bar. Blaine shrugged apologetically before he left his quiet corner to drown in the new flood of orders, silently grateful for the distraction. It did nothing for the buzz of shock going through his head, but it was at least an escape to hide away and lose his thoughts for a little while.
-:-
RACHEL
"You know he was just teasing," Rachel sighed for what felt like the tenth time since she and Jesse had left their little group under the pretense of sharing a dance, but really she just wasn't in the mood to listen to Blaine and Jesse bicker and make not-so-subtle jabs at each other. She couldn't even say she was surprised when it happened anymore and while she had never explicitly asked Blaine why he was so hostile towards her boyfriend, there was no mystery why Jesse retaliated in the same way. It was the same issue from two years ago, a month ago, last week, just on Monday.
"He was being a dick," Jesse replied, his voice low and harsh. "Can you for once, just once, be on my side instead of his?"
"I was on your side," Rachel gasped. "I am."
But it didn't matter; she could scream until she was blue in the face but nothing she might say to Jesse that would make him feel like she wasn't protecting Blaine in a way. She highly suspected that Jesse wouldn't even be mad right now if it had been Kurt or anyone else who had made those comments, but since it was Blaine and because she got between them, she was siding with Blaine and Jesse couldn't stand that. It was ruining their relationship more than she liked to admit, but there wasn't much she could do about that either; at least, not in any way she would deem acceptable. Because she wouldn't give up her friends for any reason, and she feared if she asked Jesse what she could really do to make it better for them, he would ask her to do just that.
So she let his snide comments slide, as long as he said them to her and not to anyone else and waited for the day it all got better so that she might move on with her life instead of playing referee between two grown men. Honestly, it was exhausting and they both should know better. She knew it was wearing on Kurt as well, especially when it was Blaine who seemed to encourage the situation, but as far as she knew, Kurt and Blaine didn't fight about it the way she fought about it with Jesse. With them, it was annoyance; with her, it was a struggle.
"Did you even hear me?" Jesse asked suddenly, his voice cutting through her like a knife. She couldn't answer as she really had no idea what he'd been saying, and he seemed to realize this. He scoffed, "I need some fresh air," and walked out, ignoring her apologies as blatantly as she appeared to have ignored him.
There was nothing quite as awkward as being left along on a dance floor, especially just when a slow song came on and you suddenly stuck out like red wine on a white suit jacket. And of course, she was as far away from the bar as humanly possible in the building, which meant instead of slipping off without drawing any attention to herself as she would have liked to do, she was forced to mingle through the crowd of dancing couples. She made it about halfway through without stepping on anyone's toes and only breaking up one girl from a guy who actually looked a little relieved when a hand looped around her stomach, trailing to her hip before settling obscenely low across her back.
"You look a little lonely," said an unfamiliar voice in her ear, a voice to match an unfamiliar face. Dark eyes, dark hair, with a grin more like the slit of a snake's mouth rather than an actual smile.
"I'm fine," Rachel said tersely, stepping backwards in an attempt to loosen his grip but his hand stuck to her like glue. "You can let go of me now."
"No one should ever let go of you," he said with a slick voice that she supposed some girls might find charming, but left her feeling as if she had rolled around in dirt, "a tiny little thing like you, you could get lost."
"I have a good sense of direction," she hissed at him, digging her nails into his hand so that he might let go, "and you should have to good sense to leave me alone."
"Just one dance, little thing," he breathed, clutching her to his chest despite her awkward attempts to push him away. Rachel made a strangle noise of disgust as he took her hand and began to weigh the consequences of kicking him in the knee when someone interrupted them. She nearly sagged in relief.
"Is there a problem here?" Blaine asked, his honeyed eyes dark and brewing, his hand wrapped securely around her own. The man loosened his grip without really releasing her from his embrace, but Rachel took the opening to duck under his hand and step behind Blaine.
"We were dancing," the man said.
"It looks more like you were harassing her," Blaine responded.
"Really? I think she likes playing hard to get," he sneered, reaching for Rachel who swatted his hand away angrily just as Blaine moved so that she was completely behind him now. Blaine stood to his full height, which was still several inches shorter than his opponent, but Rachel knew the secret strength that lay under his wiry muscles and spry frame. She could see the shuffle of his feet, the slight curl of his fingers into half-fists, all mimicking a very relaxed boxing stance.
"I think," Blaine said, his voice heavy with unspoken threat, "that you should walk away."
"You're going to make me?"
"Blaine, it's okay," Rachel whispered, her hand pressed against his back to be sure she had his attention. "It's over, I'm fine. I just want a drink."
She could feel the tension in him, how badly he didn't want to be the first to leave, but his shoulders relaxed just slightly under her touch and she knew he would listen to her. He turned to look at her while still managing to keep one wary eye on her unwanted dance partner. "You're sure?" he whispered back. "I could get him thrown out."
"It's fine," she said, tugging on his shirt. He stepped backwards and they turned away from the man, heading towards the bar. Rachel released the breath she had been holding during the whole altercation, keeping her hand on Blaine's back, on his arm, anywhere really that kept her linked to him. She knew she wouldn't let go until she was off the floor, just the feel of him was comforting and safe. Familiar, friendly, wanted. Everything that guy hadn't been.
"I hope you don't expect her to leave with you tonight," that man's oily voice called out. "Something tells me she never leaves with the same guy she comes in with."
Blaine was faster than she gave him credit for, whirling around and marching straight to the man until they were practically standing on top of each other. "What did you say?" Blaine demanded, his voice low and dangerous as Rachel rushed back to his side, trying to pull him away. Kurt had appeared out of nowhere it seemed, his angry face obvious he had heard the man's comment.
"Come on, she's danced with half the guys here already," he chuckled darkly, "and with a skirt that short, you have to wonder where she keeps the money."
Blaine struck hard, palms flat against the other man's chest, causing him to stumble backwards. "Say it again," Blaine growled as the man came back at him, fist swinging wildly towards him. Rachel screamed and found herself being pulled out of the way by Kurt; she stumbled and fell to the ground looking up just in time to see Blaine sidestep easily away from another poorly aimed punch.
"Are you okay?" Kurt asked frantically, but it was a different hand who pulled her to her feet; Jesse's and he looked absolutely livid.
"I'm fine, I'm fine!" she insisted.
"What the hell is he doing?" Jesse barked as Blaine narrowly avoiding getting hit in the face. "You could have been hurt."
"I'm not, I'm-."
Feedback from a disconnected speaker drowned out her protests and the crowd froze as if it had been doused with ice. Marco shoved his way through, standing between the two brawling men. Blaine had the good sense to stop his part of the fight, but the other man lashed out anyway, the blow catching Blaine by surprise as he took it to his ear. It was the only way the man could have possibly hit him, Rachel knew, and it was a low and dirty move. She nearly lunged forward herself just as Blaine did, but Kurt's hands caught hers just as Marco caught Blaine by scruff of his neck and held the other man at bay by his shoulders.
"Out!" Marco commanded, shoving the man towards one exit, His friends hustled him out as quickly as they could and as soon as the door clanged shut, Marco released Blaine and shoved him towards where Rachel stood with Kurt and Jesse. "You too Anderson."
"I didn't do anything Marco!" Blaine argued, his ear a bright red where he had been hit.
"Get out!" Marco demanded, ushering them like a herd towards the employee entrance. "Take your girl, your boy, whoever the hell you're here with and don't come back until I call you. Am I clear?"
"Marco-."
"Am I clear?" he repeated, gathering the group's personal belongings and handing them roughly to Rachel before he corralled them out the door. It slammed shut behind them and Rachel stared dumbfounded after it. Next to her, Blaine kicked at the door before he groaned, his head in his hands as he leaned against the wall. She snapped out of her little spell, immediately turning her attention to Blaine and his injury as she moved his hands away and inspected the side side of his face. As far as she could tell, there was no real damage; no cuts, no blood, just irritated skin. There might be a bruise, if anything. She ran her fingers gently down his jawline and he seemed to lean into her touch.
"Are you insane?" Jesse shouted and Rachel cringed, it was so loud.
"Yes, please, help me go completely deaf," Blaine snapped back.
"It'd be less than you deserved," Jesse snarled. "That's my girlfriend you almost got killed in there."
"Honestly, that's an over-reaction," Rachel said with a heavy sigh as she stood up, ready to fend off another argument between the two.
"You were on the ground Rachel!"
"I fell!" she insisted.
"She just fell Jesse," Kurt said in agreement and Rachel couldn't help the smug grin that stretched across her face at having backup. "I pulled her out of the way before anything really started."
"Still," Jesse remained undeterred, "she wouldn't have been in danger if Blaine hadn't been there to make things worse."
"I was protecting her!" Blaine yelled defiantly. "You ran out of the bar having a temper tantrum and left her alone in the middle of a room full of drunks and assholes and one of them decided to help himself to your girlfriend while you weren't there. He practically called her a whore, what was I supposed to do?"
"It wasn't your fight!" Jesse was practically manic as he shouted at Blaine, kicking a piece of broken brick towards him. "When are you going to figure it out? You're not her hero and you're not her boyfriend."
Rachel felt like she had been slapped in the face, the words cold and biting and as she looked around, it seemed as if everyone had had the same reaction. Jesse had all but frozen except for the deep breaths he only ever took when he knew he had gotten out of control, but his face was set with a grim determination. Rachel could only imagine how long he had waited for that to be said, and the look on Blaine's face – a mask of utter shock – was his reward. She hoped it was worth it, as Blaine looked like someone had shaken him to his deepest core and then ripped it out through his chest. And just beside him, was Kurt, his eyes blown wide in wild panic before dissolving slowly into a sad and secretive gaze as he turned to face Blaine; it was a reaction Rachel couldn't even begin to understand, but she felt like she should have.
"I know that," Blaine let out in a shaky breath.
"You forget that," Jesse amended for him, his voice calm and collected, though increasingly cold.
"Maybe you do too," Blaine replied steadily, glaring at Jesse with renewed vigor. Jesse made a harsh move towards Blaine and Rachel froze to her spot in the alley, completely unsure of what to do. What she even could do, if these two were so determined to go at it. Thankfully it was Kurt who stepped in as an unexpected voice of reason between the four of them.
"Stop it," Kurt demanded, making it clear he meant business. "This is getting out of hand. Jesse, you were gone and Rachel was in trouble. Blaine was right to step in, but you're right. It wasn't his fight." Blaine made a small noise of protest but fell silent as Kurt turned around on him. "It wasn't your place Blaine," he repeated, locking his gaze onto his boyfriend's, "but we all know there's not much you wouldn't do for Rachel."
"You can't seriously be mad at me for this," Blaine muttered.
"I'm not mad," Kurt answered with a miniscule smile. "It's just one of those things, you know, the ones I end up forgiving you for."
Confusion washed over Rachel as Blaine seemed to shrink at Kurt words. Whatever that meant to the two of them, it was enough to take the fight out of Blaine. Even if she didn't understand it, she appreciated it as it gave her the chance to go to Jesse and take his hand. "It's been a long day," she said loud enough that everyone could hear her, but keeping Jesse in her sight so that he felt like she were talking to him. "Let's just go home and get some rest. Tomorrow we'll forget all about this."
Jesse muttered something that sounded suspiciously like "I doubt you ever will" but she, like so many other things, let it go. In the corner of her eyes, she saw Kurt take Blaine by the hand and she held onto Jesse's as they all walked out of the alleyway. She glanced back only once to find Blaine; he was staring at his feet as he walked, though he looked up as soon as her gaze fell upon him, sensing her like only he ever could. She gave him a watery, grateful smile, which he returned, before she huddled closer to Jesse for the silent walk home.
-:-
"London?" Rachel squealed in excitement as Jesse spun her around her living room, knocking over a lamp which crashed to the floor, but she didn't care.
"London!," he laughed as she set her down, positively vibrating with elation. "I'm going to get to work on one of the biggest stages in the world. My work, my choreography."
"I'm so proud of you!" she exclaimed as they collapsed onto the couch. "How did this happen?"
"Apparently one of the students I've been teaching is the daughter of a a big-time director over there," Jesse gushed. "He's been working over here for the last six months and when his daughter won her competition using my solo, he was impressed enough to ask for a meeting. I had no idea."
"And he just offered you a job?" Rachel smiled, "just like that?"
"Not exactly," Jesse explained, stretching out on the couch before he stood up again, as if he couldn't bear to sit still, he was so elated. "He watched my classes for about a month, asked about how many awards the kids won using my dances. I impressed him somehow and he told me he was looking for a full-time choreographer in his company in London when he moves back. I didn't even realize what he was asking me until he started talking about how he would pay for all the moving and travel expenses and would help me find a suitable place to live."
"Jesse, this is so wonderful," Rachel practically cheered.
"I want you to come with me," Jesse swiveled on his step, falling to his knees in front of her as he clasped her hands in his. "It's London, Rachel. A whole new city, with all these other opportunities to explore right at the tip of our fingertips. I'll be working and you can audition there."
"I have an understudy part in Mamma Mia," she said as a gentle reminder.
"And in over a month, you haven't even gotten to come out behind the curtain," Jesse said, tucking her hair behind her ears, looking earnestly into her eyes. "You belong on that stage, front and center. We could do that in London, together. I want to go with you."
She thought back, eight years ago when she stood in front of Finn Hudson as he asked her to give up Broadway and New York for California, and how adamant she had been that she didn't belong anywhere else in the world. She didn't have that feeling now, sitting with Jesse as he asked her to move her dreams overseas, to an entirely different country. Instead she felt like this was something she could do, wanted to do. All she had to do was say yes; and so she did.
The next few months went by in a flash. Jesse split his time between her and traveling with Mr. Clarke, his new employer, to London as he helped Jesse get better acquainted with the city and the customs. It left no time at all for romance, spare a few brief kisses her and there, but she figured they would make up for it when they were both settled down in London. Rachel stayed behind to take care of the moving preparations, such as rearranging Jesse's lease so that he could give up his old apartment, changing her own lease to a monthly rental until she was ready to move out permanently. She bid farewell to her cast members with only the slightest regret that she hadn't been able to join them on stage even once. Soon her life was just a pile of boxes, packing materials, and tape.
"I wish you would stay," Kurt cried as the final weeks drew nearer. "It just won't be the same without you here."
"We'll talk every day," Rachel insisted, pulling him into a tight hug, "whether it's email or Skype or even if you call me in the middle of the night. It'll be like I never left."
"Who am I going to drag to Saks and gaze longingly at all the things I can't buy with?" Kurt sniffled, which he tried to hide with a laugh as he hugged her closer. They rocked side to side, giggling in a way they hadn't since they first moved to New York together and her heart began to ache as she realized just how much she was going to miss him. He must have read it on her face as he took her face in his hands and said, "Don't cry, you'll make me cry even more."
"It's just so different this time," she sighed heavily. "I'm so used to you being there with me when things like this happen."
"We still have two weeks," Kurt said brightly, wiping away his own tears. "We'll make the most of it, starting right now. I'm going to go get some food and then you, Blaine and I are going to lock ourselves into your apartment like the good old days."
She watched him walk out the door, rubbing at his eyes, before she turned around and glanced around her apartment. The yellow walls had faded slightly, the orange too, melting into an illusion of a soft sunset; she had painted those walls, over five years ago and it was strange to leave them behind. She couldn't exactly pack them up, and she knew that even if she memorized the colors and used them again half a world away, she could never replicate the memory of them, or the memories they held for her.
"He's right you know," she heard Blaine say as he stood up from behind her couch, tossing an empty roll of tape onto her table. "It's not going to be the same without you here."
"We'll keep in touch, I promise," she said again, moving to join him on the couch as he sat down.
"But you won't be here," Blaine whispered sadly as he lay his head against her shoulder. "I won't get to do this, or play with your hair, or go dancing with you. I won't be able to skip classes and spend all day with you in Central Park or trade meals when you don't like whatever you ordered. You won't be able to call me at three in the morning to watch the new Broadway posters go up in Times Square."
Rachel gulped, a hard knot forming in her chest. There were so many things she knew she was saying goodbye to, and logically, she knew one of those things was Blaine but somehow she had failed to realize what that really meant. "I'm happy for you, don't think I'm not," he continued on to say. "I'm just going to miss you so much."
Anything she might have said would have been impossibly insignificant, or a lie, so she said nothing at all. Instead she gathered him into a tight embrace and held onto him, tiny tears falling into his hair. If he noticed, he said nothing about them and they sat in silence. She could feel a thousand things go unspoken between them, but that was their nature, she guessed. Except for once, it almost felt wrong. For once, it was like they were almost out of time, and she didn't know when she would get more; but it hurt enough as it was to envision what it would be like to really leave him behind, she wouldn't make it harder on them both.
They stayed like that until Kurt returned with their food and true to his word, Kurt locked the door behind him and she spent her evening sitting comfortably with Kurt and Blaine on either side of her, watching all of their favorite movies until they passed out together from exhaustion. Her last thought slipped through her mind like water in a stream, speaking with a sense of calm that didn't match its full meaning: I can't leave them; I can't leave him.
She spent the next week in a panic, trying to push that thought away, to convince herself she was just getting cold feet and would feel better as soon as Jesse showed up and they left for their new lives together. But Jesse came, as excited as he had been three months ago and all she could feel was a foreboding sense of dread that draped over her with the semblance of a wet and cold blanket. She even caught herself shivering once or twice, which she couldn't very well blame on the warm spring air. It would be summer soon, her first in what felt like a lifetime that she wouldn't spend in New York.
"Are you having second thoughts?" Jesse finally asked her, five days before they were set to leave. They had just finished moving all of his things out of the storage unit Rachel had rented for him, waiting for the courier service to arrive so they could go on and send Jesse's belongings ahead. They would come for Rachel's only three short days later and while everything she owned was currently packed in boxes, there was so much she was leaving behind.
"I don't know," she answered honestly, as she sat on a pile of boxes, picking at the rubber sole on her shoe. "It's just so hard to say goodbye to all of this."
"All I feel is relief," Jesse said, looking at her quizzically when she glared at him in disapproval. "What? This city became just one big dead end for me. London is a chance to start over and leave everything that tried to trap me here behind."
"It's not like that for me," Rachel sighed sadly. "I love this city. This is my home."
"We'll make a new home," Jesse said, "together."
"It'll be wonderful," she tried to smile, but couldn't seem to manage more than a slight curve to her lips while Jesse continued to frown at her. "But you really won't miss any of this? You won't miss the Broadway street sign, or walking by your studio or your friends? Kurt and Blaine-."
"I knew he had something to do with this!" Jesse exploded. "What did he do; ask you to stay?"
"He didn't!"
"Of course he did!" Jesse practically roared, "and you listened to him, didn't you? Because you can never tell him no."
"That's ridiculous!" Rachel shouted back, hands on her hips as she stood up. "Blaine doesn't control me and as for telling him no, I've done that more times than I can count. I broke up with him, remember?"
"And that's just been the worst mistake of your life, hasn't it?" he spat. "I won't do this again. I won't let you drag him along when I'm finally getting rid of him. You have to choose Rachel."
"I don't know what you're talking about," she whispered, the words like sandpaper in her throat.
"Him or me," Jesse demanded, "because either way, you're going to lose someone."
-:-
In the end, Jesse made her choice for her. He didn't call, didn't come to talk to her one last time, he didn't even wait for her, just took her plane ticket with him as he flew away to London two days early. He just left her behind, as if she had already made her decision. In a way, she supposed he felt like she had; her hesitance spoke more to him than if she had actually told him that she couldn't leave with him. Part of her thought she might have still have said yes and agreed to go with him if he had only given her the chance to shake off her cold feet, or at least listened to her. But somehow, she knew deep down, she wouldn't have.
And it wasn't even for the reason Jesse thought it was – at least, not completely. She had meant it when she called New York City her home. Her entire life, she searched for a place she belonged, somewhere she could fit in and carve a place for herself in the world and she did that for herself in New York. She knew, no matter where she went in the world, it would never feel as much like home as the city did. Leaving it behind, after it had given so much to her, didn't feel right; and that was how she felt about Blaine too. There was so much of who she was know that she could directly tie to him and the thought of really leaving him behind hurt more than she could have ever anticipated. Jesse was right, in his own way, that she was staying for him.
No, Jesse may have left her before she said anything out loud, but she had made her choice the moment Blaine told her how much she would be missed.
She started unpacking boxes, slowly putting her life back in order, starting first with her bedding and then moving onto her clothes. Anything to remind her that this was her home, where she lived and loved for the last five years; at the bottom of the third box, she found an old sweater, the navy blue having faded into a much softer almost royal blue. The letters had once been red, but had since fallen off with age, but she could still see where they spelled out Dalton Academy across the front. She didn't even remember packing it and could only imagine what it might have been like if she found in while in London. Would she have felt the desire to slip it on, as she did now, to feel the soft cotton against her skin as if it were Blaine himself? Would she have cried, realizing how far away he was from her now?
He wasn't gone, she reminded herself; but he thought she was leaving she realized. He and Kurt were expecting to take her and Jesse out tomorrow, one last time, one last big goodbye. They didn't know she was staying in New York. He didn't know and before she could stop herself, she was dialing his number. "Blaine," she breathed, his name on her lips like a prayer.
"Hey," he said happily. "Kurt and I were just talking about where you guys might want to go tomorrow."
"Jesse's gone," Rachel said quickly and she could hear his sharp intake of breath.
"What do you mean he's gone?" Blaine asked, low and demanding, but oddly comforting to her.
"He left for London early this morning," she explained, a sharp pain in her chest as she tried to hold back her tears; she had loved him, despite what he left thinking. "He left me. I'm not leaving." He only said her name but it was so full of sorrow and heartbreak for her that she couldn't hold back her choked sobs and she could feel the breakdown crashing over her. "Can you come over? Please? Just you?"
"Give me fifteen, twenty minutes," Blaine promised and she hung up the phone, setting it shakily on the kitchen counter before she sunk to her knees on the floor. She didn't wipe her tears away, just let them fall as she let herself feel Jesse's loss for the first time, let it be real. She had lost him, just like he'd said, but to have five years of love just end the way it had, it hurt. It hurt that he hadn't believed in her, that he hadn't let her explain, or try to understand where she was coming from. It hurt her that she couldn't give him everything he wanted, that she never knew exactly what he needed. They let themselves fall apart in the end and all the fighting and struggling meant nothing but a bigger wound to try and heal.
Blaine found her, exactly seventeen minutes later like he said he would, and immediately pulled her into his lap, his arms buried in her hair as she sobbed. She tried to explain to him, to anyone what she needed Jesse to hear. That she loved Jesse, that she wanted to be with him, but she couldn't leave everything behind for him. That she couldn't give up the place she felt safest in the world and she was sorry that place wasn't with Jesse. She was sorry that is was with Blaine, and how badly she needed him, how her life didn't make sense if he wasn't in it.
Blaine didn't say anything as she rambled, but she knew he understood her. She felt it in his hands as the smoothed down her hair, his steady grip on her hips, when he wiped her tears away and clutched her tighter to his chest. Eventually her sobs came to a slow, sputtering halt and she ran out of words. Her heart ached but Blaine's arms were like a balm around her, slowing taking her pain away from her little by little. The feeling stayed with her even when she parted from him to clean herself up in the bathroom, washing her face of all left over tears; maybe it was the smell of the tea he had put on to brew for her, maybe it was the warmth of his sweater but she felt just slightly little less fragile as she walked out of the restroom.
"I told Kurt you were going to be okay," Blaine said as he handed her a hot mug. She took it from him with shaking hands and took a sip before setting it down on the floor next to her bed. She sat on the edge of the mattress and Blaine sat next to her without hesitation. "You are going to be okay."
It wasn't a question, but a statement. His shoulders touched hers as he leaned into her, his arms next to hers and their fingers once more intertwined. It was such a simple thing, really, nothing they hadn't done before, but somehow it felt different to her. Intimate, more than friendly; or maybe it had always felt that way and she just hadn't let herself fall into it. But she could feel it now, and with a start, she realized she had no reason to shy away from it. Blaine was already as close to her as physically possible, all she needed to do was turn her head. So she did.
Some would barely consider it a kiss at all, it was so soft and feather-light and lasted barely a second before she pulled away. His breath caught in his chest as he looked at her. "I meant it, you know," she heard herself saying, "I can't imagine my life without you. I need you."
"You'll always have me," he breathed, and it washed over her, filling her with an absolute peace. It was as if a weight she hadn't known she was carrying lifted off her shoulders and melted away. She dropped his hand and moved her own to his shoulders, playing at the open button on his shirt, her fingers slipping under the collar. She thought she felt him shudder, but it could have just been her own nerves as she leaned towards him again, her lips finding his once more.
She knew he shouldn't be kissing her back, shouldn't be opening his mouth to her as she deepened their kiss, or letting her straddle his waist with her legs; but he was and that was really the most important thing to her at the moment. Feeling him pressed against her, she'd forgotten what it felt like, how her body would mold to fit his and fill every dip and angle and how his did the same to hers. He fit with her like no one else ever did, and she found she missed it more than she had ever imagined.
Her hands trailed under his shirt, lifting it up and over his head and then with her palms flat against his chest, she lay him down. Their hips seemed to lock together as she bent down to kiss him, lips tracing an imaginary path across his jaw, his neck, to the curve of his collarbone where she found her purchase, taking his skin between her teeth with a quick nip. He groaned, his hands bunching into her hair as she soothed the wound away. It was with some disappointment she realized it wouldn't leave a mark but suddenly his hands were tugging at the Dalton sweater she still wore and her worries were chased away by his fingertips ghosting up her spine.
Her sweater and shirt came off together, the move causing the straps of her bra to slip down her shoulders. He slipped his thumbs underneath them, guiding them down her arms until she was free of them. Blaine sat up, keeping her pressed against him and his lips latched onto her breast, the cotton rubbing against her, teasing her until her breath shook in her chest and she reached around to unhook the bra herself, flinging it away just to feel his touch against her bare skin. He growled in appreciation, flipping them over so that she was pressed against the bed, hands held down to the mattress beneath her. He kept her from touching him, though she tried desperately as he took her flesh into his mouth, biting and suckling in all the right places until she nearly cried in frustration. She wrapped her legs around his hips tighter, the only purchase she had to keep him close to her.
"Blaine, please," she begged. She didn't even know what for, but he released one of her hands and that was good enough for her. It snaked between them, searching until she found the buckle on his jeans, snapping it open and forcing the zipper down as she reached down and wrapped her hand around him. His hips buckled into hers, and her name fell from his breath as a strangled moan as she slowly flexed her fingers, stroking him as slowly as he kissed at her breasts, then a bit faster as he teased her neck, but her hand stilled as his tongue flickered around her ear like a candle's flame, teeth tugging gently at her skin and for a moment, she forgot everything else but the way he felt right then and there.
She felt him move her hand away from him as if she were coming out of a daze. She must have whined or something because he chuckled, the sound deep in his chest as he kissed her, full and open as his hands passed over her breasts once more and down her stomach until his fingers hooked around the elastic of her skirt. He pulled it down her waist, brushing between her thighs and she threw her head back, suddenly needing his touch to return to her and it was taking far too long to get her skirt past her knees. She kicked it off in haste, and he went back for her underwear with the same urgency, patience long forgotten. He kissed her again as he parted her legs. His fingers moved with purpose across her skin, finding her center only a mere second before sinking into her just as he bit down on her lip.
Her back arched into him, urging him forward and he pressed another into her, fingers crooked upwards in unison. Each stroke seemed to reach deeper into her; she gasped in surprise when she felt his mouth wrap around her clit; she hadn't even realized he has stopped kissing her. His only free hand was spread across her stomach, holding her down every time her hips shuddered; hers were bundled into his hair, curls spilling though her fingers, as she tugged and pulled, anything to keep a hold of him. And then, just as quickly as he has started, he stopped. She didn't give him a moment to breathe as she pushed at his shoulders, forcing him to turn over and she straddled him once again. The button on his open jeans dug into her thigh painfully and she tore at them; he rolled his hips up and she forced the offending denim from his body, his boxer briefs following suit.
She couldn't say exactly who made the move that connected them, but suddenly it was like there were of one body, moving and churning and tasting and existing in the same moments. Even the air in her lungs felt like it had come from him as he filled her in every conceivable way. It wasn't even just physically – though every time he moved inside her, she felt as if her very nerves were unraveling underneath her skin – but it was in the way her name left his lips and wrapped around her heart, his touch was an anchor in her soul that kept her tied to him and how he just felt so right in her arms. He felt like coming home.
They lay in a tangle of limbs, neither willing to move from the other even after the each fell apart at the others' hands. She kissed him, lazily, and she knew in the morning this would all catch up to them, that what they had just done left them open and vulnerable to as much grief as they had ever known, but she wouldn't let herself car about that just now. After everything, she just wanted to lay down with him, to feel his warmth seep into her skin, listen to his heart beat in time with hers.
"I love you," he whispered and his eyes shone so bright with truth that it seized her lungs and stilled her heart. His eyelashes fluttered as he fought against sleep; it was a battle he was quickly losing and she pressed her lips to his once more, barely more than the tease of a touch, but his eyes closed and his head rolled down onto her chest as he fell asleep waiting for her answer – an answer she wasn't sure she was ready to give.
-:-
BLAINE
The cold was the thing that really moved Blaine to fight through the haze of consciousness he'd been drifting in and out of over the passing hours, reaching his hand out with sore muscles and searching for warmth. But the sheets beside him were as frigid as the ones around his waist, all traces of heat long gone. He reached out again, further and further until his fingers found the opposite edge of the bed, everything in between empty. A different kind of chill dripped down his spine, settling as ice in his stomach as he tried to force his eyes to open. He ignored the whisper in his heart as he lifted his buried head from the pillow, blinking slowly. The morning sun filtered through the shades, soft and still, making real what his hand already found to be true.
Rachel was gone.
Blaine started awake, all drowsiness gone in an instant. There was no sound from the bathroom, no running water or soft hum to lead him to her, no scent of brewing coffee or tea from the kitchen, and the window leading to the fire escape and the roof was latched shut. His feet were heavy as he stood up. "Rachel?" he called, only to be met with silence. He shuffled forward, his bare foot hitting a pile of clothes on the floor; his clothes, carefully folded and placed one piece on top of the other according to size. His wallet and keys rest on top, his phone to the side and turned off, something he never did.
"Rachel!" he called again as he slipped into his boxers, his voice sounding a little bit stricken even to his own ear, but he already knew there was no one there to hear him. Still, he searched the apartment for her, even venturing up to the roof and out into the hall. He searched for a note saying that she went out to pick up breakfast but would be back soon, for anything that might tell him where she had gone as long as it meant she hadn't just left him.
He turned his phone back on, ignoring the messages from his mother and Jesse and even Kurt with little guilt while he scrolled through, looking for her name to jump out at him. It never did; he had nothing from her, nothing at all. He tried to stay calm, to keep himself under control even as he dialed her number, the line ringing incessantly in his ear before the call dropped without redirecting him to voicemail. He tried again, only getting to the third ring before the dial tone took over. With a lump in his throat, he called once more. This time a connection didn't even form. It was just dead air, a destitute silence; It was like she didn't even exist, or like he didn't.
His words from last night crashed over him: "I love you". A heated whisper of promises he couldn't really give but were long overdue. Her eyes had lit up, as radiant as he'd ever seen them, and the part of him that had hidden those words over the years soared. Finally, finally she knew, and not in a vague way or in a way she could guess at; she knew because he had told her, had meant it. They understood each other then, on every level, and even if she hadn't said it back, he had felt it in her touch, pass through her lips, in the inexplicable hold she had over him. Or so he'd thought, but doubt clouded his mind. Had it been fear instead that darkened her eyes, or anger that he mistook her need for release as something else. Maybe she felt used, like he did now; and scared and uncertain of what to do next.
They had changed everything, and not just for themselves, for Kurt too. The realization hit him as hard as being thrown into a wall: Blaine had cheated on his boyfriend of four years. He had cheated on him with Rachel, with their friend, with the one girl Kurt didn't even know Blaine had ever been involved with. Because it was never supposed to happen again. It didn't matter, all the lingering feelings and the imaginary what-if's, the words left unspoken – though he supposed that was out of the bag now. He and Rachel, they were meant to be done and over, but the years betrayed them and suddenly, they were deeper than they'd ever been and she had left him to fend for himself.
His skin prickled, but with what he couldn't say. So many things were happening at once. He wanted to run away, put some distance between himself and her bed, between her, Kurt, his life and the wreck of it that was fast closing in on him. The wreck he had created, he knew, by being weak and selfish; through lying to himself and the people he cared – loved – and now every one would be hurt unless he could fix it. But he couldn't do it without her, without knowing how it had all come to this.
So he did the only thing he thought he could do, which was wait for her.
He waited through the morning and well into the afternoon before he realized that she wasn't coming back, at least not anytime soon and definitely not while she thought he might still be there. If the dropped calls and unanswered texts weren't enough to prove that she was avoiding him, this waiting was. It pressed in around him, offered no distraction as the pure, arrant guilt welled up inside of him and threatened to crush him; her apartment started to feel suffocating, his lungs had no purchase but for the short, sharp gasps of air he could force into them. His chest tightened, his head swam, his eyes watered; he had to get out of there. It had been so easy for Rachel to run, well then he could do the same. He would leave her behind just as well.
As he made his familiar path through the city towards his own apartment, he realized he didn't really have anywhere to escape to like she did. When she left, she could have gone anywhere and for all he knew, she was on a plane chasing Jesse to London, but Blaine had to go home to Kurt and try to piece together enough of a facade so that Kurt didn't know exactly how much this part of his world had changed overnight. If he could afford Kurt just a little more bliss until Blaine at least had some real answers besides "I don't know; it just happened" then he would just make sure he was strong enough to hold himself together. Just for a little while, just until he could talk to Rachel. And if he couldn't, then he would tell Kurt himself and deal with whatever came his way.
Kurt was leaning over the dinner room table when he walked in, a blazer spread flat across the surface as he carefully stitched a frayed hem inside the collar. With a satisfied smirk, he cut the thread and shook the jacket out before putting it one, carefully inspecting that the quick fix would remain unseen. It was a simple act, one Blaine had seen a thousand times before, sometimes as Kurt worked on his own clothing, but it caused a sharp pain in his heart all the same, his guilt even tainting this.
"Hey," Kurt greeted happily. "I was worried you weren't going to make it."
"Make wh- shit, I forgot," Blaine said weakly, trying in vain to ignore yet another stab of guilt. By now, he felt as if his heart were riddled with holes. "The art show downtown. Kurt I am so sorry, I forgot that was today."
"We've talked about nothing else all week," Kurt reminded him, his voice lilting with a tease. He was content, excited even, had no cares or worries and all Blaine could imagine was how his smile would fall if he knew what Blaine had done. How his eyes would harden with disbelief until tears began to fall, his voice would become sharp, his words pointed and cruel to hide the hurt he had never seen coming. And Blaine, he would deserve all of it and more.
The thought choked him and he turned away as if to go change in the bedroom, but really he just couldn't look at Kurt without some kind of impending breakdown. "Blaine?" he heard Kurt call, heard the quick steps behind him, be still he didn't turn around until he felt his hand on his shoulder, maneuvering his body to face him. "Are you okay? You look pale."
Blaine leaned forward, hiding his face in Kurt's shoulder, feeling like the worst grade of human being as Kurt's arms came up to hold him. Kurt's hands drew lazy circles on his back, comforting and so loving that something seemed to crack inside Blaine. It was so overwhelming and he couldn't even begin to know where it was all coming from, but he forced himself to hold it together. He had to be stronger than this, he owed it to Kurt above all people and he would not break down over this, not now in Kurt's arms, a place he had given away all claim to.
"Kurt I-," Blaine whispered, his voice so small he doubted it would even carry up to the other's ears. "I'm so sorry. I can't. I'm sorry."
"What's wrong?" Kurt asked, a little more direct this time and in any other world, it should have been the thing that forced all of Blaine's secrets to come out. But instead, it strengthened him – or weakened him, depending on how one looked at it – and he forced the lump in his throat to disappear, locked away his fragile and frayed emotions, and looked Kurt in the eyes. Shining blue, clear and trusting, and it was deceitful of him, but Blaine couldn't lose that just yet.
"I'm just not feeling very well," Blaine answered as honestly as he could.
"Is that all?" Kurt breathed in relief, embracing Blaine once more. "You scared me, I thought something had happened."
"Sorry," Blaine muttered. "I guess I'm just all over the place right now."
"And staying out all day with Rachel probably just made it worse," Kurt said in agreement. Blaine started at Rachel's name, his entire body felt as if it had been locked into place. "She told me you stayed with her after Jesse left. I can't believe he just did that to her."
He could only nod; so Rachel had been in touch with Kurt. She had bothered to call Kurt and give him an alibi or sorts, but she couldn't bring herself to talk to Blaine about it. He should have been angry, he supposed, but it really only served to deepen his sadness. "There was probably more going on than we knew about," Blaine answered as tactfully as he could; it was true, so very true, except Kurt was really the only one in the dark anymore. "But it's done now, and Rachel is... well, she's coping in her own way I guess. I should change if we're going though. We're already going to be late."
"We don't have to go if you don't feel up to it," Kurt offered and the sincerity in his voice was hard to stomach. He really did mean it. Kurt would stay home, no matter how much he had been looking forward to see his friend's exhibit, and take care of Blaine as if the sickness were an actual physical ailment and not an emotional sabotage Blaine had brought on himself. And he didn't deserve that either, to lay in his boyfriend's arms and find comfort there, not when he had thrown it all away for another's last night.
"No, we should go," Blaine responded, sitting wearily on the bed. "Eli worked really hard on this and he's your friend. We should show our support."
"I don't want you to make yourself sick."
"I already am," Blaine scoffed, perhaps a little more harshly than he intended, but Kurt seemed to take no offense. "I'll be okay, really. It's my own fault and I'll put up with it."
"I'm not going to let you be miserable just because you feel like you have to deal with being sick," Kurt said as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. "Honestly, this is why you need me, to remind you that everything is not your fault."
"Most of the time it is," Blaine muttered, but if Kurt heard him, he made no move to argue with him and Blaine didn't want to give him the chance. "Then you should go at least."
"And leave you here alone?"
"I'll be fine," Blaine insisted. "I'll probably be better in the morning and you know Eli would rather you were there than me. Go, it's okay."
"You're sure?" Blaine could see that Kurt wasn't convinced, but was torn over keeping his promise to his friend. Blaine took a hold on Kurt's hand, and pressed a light kiss to his knuckles, fighting off the wave of disgust with himself as he did.
"I'm sure," he repeated, keeping his voice strong, hoping it would be enough to convince Kurt to go ahead without him. It seemed to be, as Kurt leaned down and gave him a chaste kiss, promising he wouldn't stay too long and would bring back a bowl of french onion soup from the deli before he departed. There was a momentary panic on Blaine's part of being left alone again, but it was soothed by the fact that it had been his choice this time.
He heard the front door close and lock before he reached into his pocket to pull out his phone. There were still no messages or missed calls from Rachel, nothing new at all and he couldn't bring himself to dial her number again. She obviously didn't want to talk to him, wanted nothing to do with him and if that's the way she wanted it, then she could have it that way. He let the anger bubble up and overtake him as the events of the day caught up to him. Rachel carried as much fault as he did and she wasn't there to take her share of it. She had cut herself off from him and this stupid fucking phone was just a constant reminder of it how distant she was, how unreachable. In a futile fit, he threw the phone across the room, and it shattered against the wall. The force of the blow rattled his dresser, sending papers flying through the air as if in a whirlwind before settling down in a jumble on the floor. The one closest to him, he could recognize it even upside down: an article Kurt had been begging him to read, the one detailing the best way to select a surrogate for couples unable to have their own child.
He broke then, letting the tears flood over him until he was sure he was drowning. Anger and guilt were as present as they had been all day, but a kind of mourning took him over and for what, he wasn't sure. For everything, in a way; the future Kurt had wanted for them, the one he wasn't sure he wanted. For the past he never seemed to let go of, the people he couldn't help but love, the lines he crossed and blurred and told himself it was okay to do so. But the thing he felt more than any of that, more than the pain and the anxiety and heartache, was regret.
Somehow, that was the worst of it all.
-:-
A week passed and the only break in his routine of going to school, leaving for work, and coming home to Kurt were the moments that Blaine found to dial Rachel's number. Whether it was between classes, on breaks, while he sat on the couch pretending to watch television after Kurt had already retired to bed, Rachel never answered and he honestly stopped expecting her to. Still, when he looked at his own phone and saw nothing from her, he couldn't fight the need to press down her her name and listen to the line ring over and over again.
Kurt could tell something was wrong, but since Blaine wasn't talking about it, Kurt could only ask so much. He tried to be there for him in other ways and Blaine tried to appreciate it despite the stabbing pains of guilt that seemed to cripple him every time Kurt suggested they watch Blaine's favorite movie, or played disco in the mornings to wake them both up for the day. He didn't mention Rachel at all, which Blaine was grateful for, though he couldn't exactly thank his boyfriend for, not without having to explain why, not without having to hurt him.
The thing he was most grateful for, no matter how rotten he felt for feeling that way, was that Kurt had an all-day workshop with his company which left Blaine truly alone for the first time since he'd woken up at Rachel's apartment. Not that he did anything very different, besides skipping his classes, but it was somehow comforting to wallow on his own. Eventually, after his ritual dialing of Rachel's number, he did get restless and picked up the grocery list from the front of the fridge and walked a good ten blocks out of his way just for the excuse to be somewhere else for a little while.
At checkout, while digging through his pockets for an extra dollar, he found a pamphlet on adoption he'd promised Kurt he would read. He skimmed through it as he walked back, the whole idea still a fuzzy and vague picture in his mind, something so far off in the distance he couldn't wrap his head around it. So he just tucked it into the sides of one of the bags he carried. He dialed her number once more before entering his apartment building. She didn't answer, which was made all the more startling when he reached his floor and he saw her waiting outside his door, hand poised to knock, though she spun around as the sound of the elevator closing filled the hall.
"Hi."
Rachel stood in front of him, her hands fidgeting all across the skirt of her dress as she smoothed down imaginary wrinkles and dusted away lint that wasn't there. Her bottom lip quivered so slightly that he wouldn't have noticed it if she hadn't immediately sucked it between her teeth, worrying the soft pink of her lips. Her gaze held steady, as if she were focusing every bit of self-control she had into looking him straight in the eye, though she looked about as lost as he felt and that brought him no comfort. If she was scrambling for all the same answers he was desperately searching for himself, then all his anger towards her over the past several days had been for nothing.
And he needed to be angry; it was all that was keeping him from falling apart. She hadn't bothered to call, to show him in any way that she even cared that they had torn apart lives they had both built over the last few years for one single night that obviously meant more to him than it did to her. The bitter irony was that he had more to lose than she did in all of this – Jesse had already left her after all, but Kurt could still leave him and Rachel, he stopped pretending to know what she would do – but Blaine was still waiting around for his cue from her. Even now, he was still waiting for her; his barely controlled ire returned to him.
"Hi," he snapped back at her, vitriol lacing the single word as he made to move past her to unlock his apartment door.
He kept his back turned away from her, but he could see her in the corner of his eye. She faltered a bit, wringing her hands momentarily before dropping them to her sides. He tried to focus on the keys in his hands, the bags of groceries under his arms, but her voice washed over him like it always did, drawing his attention into her. "I thought maybe we could talk," she whispered, soft like a falling snow and the tenderness was enough to drive him mad. "We haven't done that in awhile."
"Well, whose fault is that?"
"Blaine-."
"No!" he yelled, drowning out any protests she might have made. Groceries spilled from ripped bags as they dropped to the ground and his key broke off in the lock as the door swung open, but he barely noticed any of it, barely noticed anything but Rachel as she took a step back from him. Her eyes widened, flooded with shock. "I called you; ten, twenty times every day. You didn't answer."
"I didn't know what to say!" she argued back, her feet shuffling forward to regain her lost step.
"And you think I did?" he exclaimed.
"No," she admitted, her voice shaking. "I didn't know what to do, okay? Jesse had left and there wasn't – I mean, you were there. You're always there and it was like that was all that mattered. That having you be there with me was all I needed but I woke up and I panicked because you – you can't always be there. You have Kurt and your life and I knew you would just wake up and leave and I – I don't know okay? I just didn't want to watch you leave."
"I waited for you," Blaine responded, though his voice was tight and he wasn't positive it hadn't cracked a bit as he spoke. "I was there all day, waiting for you to come back. You didn't. You left Rachel, not me."
"But I was right," she insisted, "because you're here, at the apartment you share with Kurt, and not at mine. It didn't make a difference, did it?"
"It might have!" Blaine groaned in frustration, his hands running wildly through his hair, across his face, against the back of his neck. Rachel's hands reached out, stilling his roaming hands for an instant before he jerked them away from her. "We changed everything Rachel, one way or another and if -."
"Because of what you said?" she cut him off this time and the vulnerability in the question shook him to the core. It hung heavy between them, reminiscent of the way it had felt for all the years it had gone unspoken. Three words, such tiny little words, that held as much power as a wrecking ball and could hurt just as much. When he'd said them, he had been caught up in a feeling of new bliss, as if he'd been granted a kind of freedom. Now, all he felt was the same pain equivalent to losing a treasured part of himself.
"What did I say?" he found himself asking her. She gulped and looked down at her hands and it was obvious she couldn't say it. For whatever reason, the words wouldn't form on her lips and it didn't matter if that was the only thought she had for the rest of her life, if she couldn't actually say them, it didn't matter. "You can't even say it back to me."
"Blaine, you have to understand-."
"I don't have to understand anything," he said, shaking his head and was relieved when she didn't try to continue on with whatever she might have conjured up to say. It wouldn't have matter any way. He felt absolutely deflated, the tiny hope that they might be able to work this out – as friends, as anything – had completely disappeared. In a way, she had been right: he would go back to Kurt, to his life, and follow that where ever it led him. "But maybe you do. You are the only person in this world I would risk everything for and you don't even see it that way. You say nothing would have changed and I guess nothing will. I won't leave Kurt, not after this. I'll spend the rest of my life trying to make up for what we did to him so that you don't have to. I love him, Rachel, as much as I love you, and he deserves so much better than what I can give him. But he chose me and I – I owe him this."
"Love isn't owing someone," she muttered under her breath.
"Don't put words in my mouth," he said harshly as he bent down to pick up his scattered groceries. "You know what I mean."
Rachel sighed an apology as she fell to her knees along side him, packing oranges back into the brown paper bag as he shoved a jar of honey and a carton of milk into another one. They worked in silence, not exactly ignoring each other, but not speaking anymore and being careful not to reach of the same items, keeping to their own side as if some invisible line had been drawn between them. He was almost done picking up the broken pieces of pasta that had scattered about the floor when she sat back on her heels, a leaf of paper clutched in her hands.
"Are you," she spoke in a strangled voice, the color draining from her face, "and Kurt going to have a baby?"
His head snapped up; he'd completely forgotten that he had shoved that pamphlet into one of the bags so he was sure to take it back upstairs, but there is was clenched in Rachel's hand as if she might rip it to shreds at any provocation. His own hand trembled a bit as he reached over and took it from her, glancing at the bold ink headline, the word "adoption" leaping off the page at him. "Kurt's talking about it," Blaine said in an even voice. "I told him I'd keep an open mind."
"You're not even married!" she shouted, the sound echoing down the hall as if it had suddenly become a mantra, "or engaged. You're still in school and Kurt's just barely getting started in his company and directing a new play is incredibly stressful and you're only 24 years old."
"It's not something that would just happen overnight," he said and her tongue clicked against her teeth in disbelief. The scene was eerily familiar to him as Rachel seemed to give the same arguments he had given Kurt all those months ago. And he, he was using Kurt's reasoning for her. "This stuff takes a long time. There's forms and applications and Kurt just wants to have the option open to us if it's something he ever decides we really want."
"If he decides?" Rachel repeated and he merely sighed – of course she would pick up on the one thing he'd misspoke on. "Do you even want this?"
"We've been together a long time," Blaine insisted, shoving the paper into his pocket and picking up the paper bags before he stood up. "Nothing ever seems to change that."
"What if something did?" Rachel asked, the question almost pleading in a way he couldn't quite grasp, but it burned in him. In another life, he might have believed she was talking about anything – a sudden death, a fight neither could predict, an explosive secret – that might tear him away from Kurt. But she wasn't, and he knew, but after everything she had just said, after everything he said to her, even the bare hint that things might change between them, he couldn't bear that.
"You don't get to ask me that question anymore," he said, turning into his apartment and shutting the door behind him before she could follow. He and Rachel, he realized, were through. Done, the way they should have been all those years ago. She'd made that choice back then, and now it was his turn.
I write, you read, you review, and I write more.