I know. I am aware. I am an awful person who hasn't updated in two months. And I'm sorry.

Here's what happened. I wrote a chapter. I loved it. I was proud of it. It was three in the morning so I didn't post it. I wake up in the morning, the first thing I hear, literally the first thing, is that the star from Glee, Cory Monteith has died from some crappy news woman. I sob and I break and then I write a beautiful speech about Cory in my author's note for the chapter, ready to post. Instead of hitting copy, I hit paste, and the whole thing is replaced with my name. It's gone and it was the probably the worst morning of my life.

Anyway. Hope you like it! :)

Don't own Glee. Klaine. Or anything, really. So yeah :P

"So. I heard a rumor."

The thing about Santana Lopez, was that she was constantly spreading things. Rumors, her legs, and pages of Kurt's diary all around the apartment. Kurt couldn't stand it, or her in general, so when Santana started yapping about how Mike and Tina got back together, he paid no attention what so ever.

But then he heard Blaine's name.

He wasn't sure why, or what happened, or if it was some little, false piece of information that Santana thought would be interesting to make everyone believe was true.

"What?" He whips his head in Santana's direction. He realizes that his blue eyes are probably bugging so far out of his head that it's becoming a little scary, but he could care less.

This was Blaine. His Blaine.

"Tina tells me he's spending his days singing some seriously depressing songs about feeling dead inside and staring at pictures of you on his phone." Santana's lips held no smirk, instead, they were pursed into a straight line. Oh no.

Was she...was she telling the truth?

The thought shattered Kurt's heart and it made his insides twist and turn until he was almost positive he was going to throw up.

"I'm not lying to you." Santana says with a small, almost inaudible sigh. "I wouldn't lie to you about your little lawn gnome. I know you wouldn't lie to me about Britt."

"I want to help him." Kurt murmurs weakly. He looks at the wood floor beneath him. Suddenly, he's cold. Everything in this apartment is freezing and dark, and god, he wants Blaine.

When he looks up, Santana is grabbing her jacket and keys, her face remaining completely neutral. She scrambles around the apartment, grabbing a bag of chips, a water bottle, and her phone.

Kurt knows what's going on. He's not stupid.

"We can't just drop everything and go to Ohio, Santana." Kurt says, exasperated, leaning all of his weight against one of the couch cushions.

Santana gives Kurt a strange, confused glance for just a quick moment. She wipes it off after a second with a scoff. "I know. I'm going out. To the bar. You're calling him. Now. Do it, Lady Lips." She gestured to Kurt's cellphone on the coffee table. Kurt eyed it for a long moment.

He wanted to. Of course Kurt wanted to call Blaine. He had for a while. But every time he almost presses the green button, he stops.

He's terrified, honestly. What if he waited too long and Blaine already found someone else? There was Sebastian. There was always that Craigslist-smelling asshole to think about.

When he looks back at the door, Santana is gone, and before he can really process the whole situation correctly, he called Blaine.

Oh god. He's calling him.

"Kurt. Oh my god, are you there? Please say you're there. Please let me talk to you."

Blaine's voice is so goddamn raspy with tears, quivering and cracking in places.

"I'm here." Kurt says quickly, clutching the phone for dear life. "I'm here."

"I'm so sorry, Kurt. I'm so, so, so, so goddamn sorry, and I want...I need you to know that I can't be with anyone else. Ever. Because you're the one, Kurt. You've always been the one. I have to spend the rest of my life with you. You and no one else, just you. And our children. And our family dog. But other than that, just you." Blaine takes a deep breath before continuing. "I don't care how much time you need to take to forgive me. I'll wait forever. I promise you, I'll wait forever, Kurt."

Kurt's breath hitches in his throat.

Blaine. Blaine. Blaine. Blaine. Blaine.

He tries to speak, to say anything, but he knows if he makes a single noise, he'll break. He's barely keeping it together. He's stiff, and frozen, and it's taking every fiber of his being not to cry.

"Please. Please say something. Anything, Kurt. Anything at all."

Kurt takes in a sharp breath of air.

Talk for Blaine. Talk for Blaine. Talk for Blaine.

He wipes furiously under his eyes. Be strong, Kurt. And don't cry. Whatever you do, don't cry. He spoke. And his voice didn't even crack once.

"I'm sorry. I forgive you. I love you."

"Kurt. Oh, Kurt—"

"I do, Blaine. I love you so much and everything seems so lonely and dark and cold without you here." Kurt hugs a pillow to his chest tightly, squeezing his eyes shut.

Blaine's in your arms. Blaine's in your arms. Blaine's in your arms.

"Say it again." Blaine whispers. Kurt doesn't open his eyes. He wants Blaine there with him.

"Say what again?"

"That you love me. Please say it again, Kurt, please."

Kurt nods, a sad, small smile forming on his chapped lips. His eyes are still closed. "I love you, Blaine. I love you, I love you, I love you, I love you."

"I love you too." Blaine murmurs. Kurt tries to feel Blaine's arms around him, holding him into his chest, but he can't. He needs Blaine there with him.

"No more messing this up. I'm not letting you go again." Kurt whispers, images of crying himself to sleep, and hunching over the toilet, the sick, nauseous feeling not leaving his stomach, and just praying that Blaine would hold him entering his mind.

"No, no. This is it. This is the future we always dreamed of."

Kurt looks at the door longingly. He thinks of how, if this were a movie, Blaine would come bursting through it and they would have a proper reunion full of love and kissing and skin and touches and passion.

But this isn't a movie.

"When can I see you?" Kurt asks, picturing Blaine's full, kissable, soft-as-cotton-candy lips, his hazel, glowing eyes, his strong, protective arms, his everything.

"This weekend. Can I come up this weekend?"

Kurt thinks for a second.

We can't just drop everything and go to Ohio, Santana.

They couldn't do that. Not Kurt and Santana both. But maybe...maybe Kurt could. By himself.

"No." He says softly, a small smile playing on his lips. A real one. One that wasn't fake, and one that symbolized the happiness that was bubbling in his stomach, coursing through his veins.

"No? Kurt—"

Kurt, not leaving note or any indication of where he was going for Rachel or Santana, pulled open the door, letting it slam behind him "I'm coming right now. You can ditch tomorrow, right? Spend some time with me?"

And approximately ten hours later, Kurt is pulled into Blaine's driveway. All the way in Ohio. He was home.

And approximately ten seconds after that, his hands are tugging Blaine's mouth into his. And Blaine's fingers are digging into his hips. And it's hungry, and it's desperate, and it's passionate, and it's home.

Too much Sad!Blaine. Too much, too much, too much. xD I think my next prompt isn't too depressing, it might even be FLUFF! :D

Plot twist, honeys.

Okay. Review, prompt, sleep, eat, read way too much Klaine fanfiction, do whatever you want. Except drugs.

Love you all!

-Katie xxx