A/N: SO sorry this took so long.
StarKid Apocalyptour/leftover feels and post-show depression/absolutely no motivation, the 4th of July holiday week, a few more shows, and smidge of Writer's Block. (And because I just plain suck at life.)
Apparently, the majority of the chapters are too short. Does everyone feel this way?
I attempted to make this one longer. (I don't think I succeeded but I hope you'll be pleased.)
Also, there's a poll up on my page, I suggest you check it out.
(Edit: I changed the last few sentences.)
"I really shouldn't have had that second helping of chocolate chip pancakes…" Blaine muttered, staring at his shirtless self in the full-length mirror in the bedroom. He had recently started therapy, and it was going pretty well, but he still couldn't shake the way he judged himself just yet.
"Yep, definitely taking up boxing again…" He said quietly, poking at the soft flesh of his tummy.
"Blaine?" Kurt questioned from the other room.
"Are you ready? We have to leave in the next two minutes if we want to make it to your session on time!"
"Coming!" Blaine yelled, finding a shirt and throwing it on.
"So, Blaine, How have you been doing since our last session?" Dr. Jacobs questioned, as Blaine and Kurt sat down in her office. "From what I've seen, he's doing pretty well. " Kurt said, pretty much interrupting Blaine from answering.
"Yeah, I guess I have been doing pretty well, but…" Blaine said, trailing off.
"But what?" Dr. Jacobs asked, with a slight concerned tone.
"I gave up boxing after high school, and recently I've felt like I shouldn't have." Blaine started.
"It was a great workout and stress reliever, which was probably the reason why I kept my weight under control when I was at both Dalton and McKinley. I don't know why I didn't bring it up at our last session."
"Oh…I think you should pick it back up again, maybe find a gym near your neighborhood that either has it, offers a kickboxing class, or something like that. I would say see if you can set a bag up in your apartment, but you probably don't have the room to spare."
"Yeah, we definitely don't have the room…" Kurt said, trying not to smile at the mental image of Blaine working out in the McKinley High weight room. (and trying his damnedest to not get a hard-on in Dr. Jacobs' office.)
A few days and endless research later, Blaine had found a boxing gym in Manhattan that was relatively cheap, and had long hours; so he decided that a few days a week after classes, he would come down to the gym for a few was happy that his boyfriend was starting to feel a little better about things, now that he had taken initiative over fixing his issues.
During one of his afternoon workouts, he ran into familiar face from Dalton. "Wes?" he questioned, just to clarify.
The former Warbler spun around at the mention of his name. "Blaine? Holy shit, How've you been?"
"Living with Kurt, he's studying Fashion Design at FIT, I'm a Recorded Music major at NYU. I spent my first semester abroad in Paris, before I decided on a major."
Wes just stared at him. "You willingly went 6 plus months without seeing Kurt?"
Blaine shook his head. "No, no, no. I could never! My parents made the arrangements and forced me to."
"Makes sense." Wes said, knowing his former classmate's parents and their dislike of their son's "lifestyle choices".
"How've you been? You never kept in touch after you graduated! If you did, David never updated us."
"Well, after David graduated, as you know he came up here for school…" The former Warbler said. Blaine nodded.
"We moved in together and got engaged last week!" Wes said, unable to withhold that bit of information for much longer.
"Holy shit. Congratulations!" Blaine exclaimed, hugging his friend.
"Reall,y that's amazing. I'll talk to you later, I wanna finish up another session and get home, apparently Kurt is cooking something special; Congrats, again."
"Thanks. Okay, well, we'll have to catch up with you guys soon!"
Blaine walked into the apartment about an hour later. The eerie-ily dark, and somewhat quiet apartment, which was only lit by a few candles. "Kurt?" he called out, confused. He received no response. "Kurt?" he called out again, getting worried. As if on cue, Pink's Fucking Perfect started playing softly. After hanging up his coat, he noticed a post-it, stuck to the area next to the coat rack:
Remember the song we used to sing to each other whenever we felt down? Of course you do. Go into the bedroom, and you'll find another clue.
Slightly confused, Blaine crumpled up the post-it, tossed it in the nearest trash can, and headed toward his and Kurt's bedroom.