2013

"Excuse me!" Blaine shouted, jogging down the street after the boy he thought he knew. "Hey!" Fortunately the street was not a crowded one, so Kurt stayed in his sight. Pushing just a little bit more, Blaine managed to reach him and gently tapped his shoulder. The boy spun around. Blaine's knees went a little weak.

"Oh my god. It is you."

"Excuse me?" the boy snapped, and Blaine had a second wave of emotion. Doubt. The person in front of him looked exactly like an older version of boy Kurt Hummel, more creamy skin and long, thin figure than Blaine had ever imagined. His hair was perfectly coifed and skin flawless, but there was something different. Large, dark circles that had obviously been half-concealed with makeup sat under blue-green eyes. He was dressed in a non-descript suit that was far less extravagant than Blaine remembered his taste being, down to the plain black dress shoes. But it was the eyes that made Blaine do a double-take. What he remembered quite clearly as being warm pools of color that could express a different emotion with each glance were now cold and hard, lacking the depth and spark that had once made them so appealing. Blaine took a step back. It was Kurt Hummel, but not the Kurt Hummel he remembered.

"I'm Blaine Anderson. We were childhood...friends."

It was all coming back to him now, sepia-toned memories of tea parties, 50s music, Barbie weddings. Their own 'wedding' in the park, grass and sunlight and feelings that the nine year old Blaine was sure he was never going to have again with another person. The pain from his mother's miscarriage and the death of Elizabeth Hummel became fresh again, and Blaine had to shut his eyes, briefly, to stop from being bogged down with too much feeling. When he opened them again, Kurt had a different look about him. It was one of recognition, pain, and sorrow. His lips were pressed in a straight line.

"Yes, I remember you. It's been a while."

Blaine nodded, instinctively reaching for Kurt's hand like he used to, feeling a little stab in the heart when the other pulled away.

"It's been so long. I mean..how are you?"

Kurt glanced sideways and then back at Blaine, clearly uncomfortable. "I'm fine, thank you."

Blaine adjusted his guitar, which was beginning to slip, and frowned. "Is there something wrong? You're acting like we've never met."

Kurt shook his head. "I'm fine. I'm just in a hurry." He turned to go, giving Blaine one last look. "It was nice to see you again." He started to walk away, leaving the other boy stunned. For the years he had lain awake at night, imagining their reconciliation, this was never what he thought would happen.

"Wait! Don't you want to get a coffee sometime? Catch up?" He distinctly saw Kurt's head shake.

"No, thank you."

This wasn't right.

"You at least owe me an explanation!"

Kurt stopped.

Blaine winced. "That didn't come out exactly right."

But it was too late, as Kurt had rounded on him, cheeks flushed and eyes blazing.

"An explanation for what, may I ask?"

"Look, Kurt, I wasn't-"

"An explanation for what?"

Blaine looked down at the pavement, adjusting his guitar again, feeling inexplicably ashamed. "You never wrote to me," he murmured. "I sent you letters, my mother sent care packages...you never wrote back."

Kurt dropped the briefcase Blaine hadn't noticed and advanced upon him. "I never wrote to you because it was too painful. Your family abandoned me for some cushy teaching job, just like everyone else that I've ever loved abandoned me. Except for my father. Do you have any idea what it was like? I was the only out kid at McKinley, and every day I went the torture they thought I deserved." His voice faltered. "I've been thrown in dumpsters, locked in portapotties, and had my first kiss stolen by a closeted jock. I did it alone. I didn't need you then and I sure as hell don't need you now. So please, you've been out of my life for this long, let's keep it that way." Without another word Kurt turned back around, and then he was gone. Blaine sank to the ground, feeling as if he had just been slapped.

It seemed unreal, to think that the boy he'd known had changed so much. He remembered the coldness Kurt had shone after the death of his mother, but that was understandable. What he had witnessed was an explosion of bitterness and anger, and he could see the pain that had shone quite clearly behind Kurt's eyes. Blaine had never felt as regretful as he did now, wishing that he could have protected the younger boy. At 5'8 he couldn't do much, but at least Kurt would have had someone to suffer with.

He sighed, standing up. The flood of cars from the end of the work day was beginning, and he flagged down a yellow cab. It slid to a stop and he opened the door, loading his guitar in and about to follow it when the driver tapped him on the shoulder.

"That fancy suitcase yours, kid?"

"Hmm?" Blaine turned his head and sure enough, Kurt's briefcase sat on the pavement. He sighed and grabbed it, climbing into the cab. "I guess so."

Kurt was going to see him again whether he wanted to or not.

An hour later and Blaine was sitting in the sofa in the apartment he (temporarily) shared with Wes and David, idly flicking the tag on the briefcase.

"It says 'Law Offices of Hadley and Morgan'. He must be an intern."

Wes poked his head out from the kitchen. "An intern who wants nothing to do with you. Why don't you just mail it?"

Blaine sighed. "I need to apologize in person, for whatever I did to him. If he still hates me, then I'll really stay out of his life."

David who was sitting beside him and loudly making his way through a bag of Cheetos, scrunched his nose. "I'm Blaine," he mocked, "so loyal and gentlemanly that I have to apologize to someone I haven't spoken to for years and obviously dislikes me."

Blaine stuck his tongue out, not the most mature comeback, but the first reaction that popped into his head. "What's wrong with being a gentleman?"

Wes came in and sat on the other side if him, holding a large bowl of microwave popcorn. "Because, sometimes you've got to let things go. He's obviously changed, you need to accept that and move on."

"Are you sure you're not a psychology major?" Blaine deadpanned, one eyebrow cocked.

Wes brought a finger to Blaine's lips, effectively quieting him. "No, young grasshopper. I am just a sage advice giver." He grabbed the remote. "Now be quiet, my show is on."

Blaine sat back on the couch, determined to settle the matter in his brain. But he couldn't shake the feeling that something else was wrong with Kurt, a deeper problem. He hadn't looked healthy.

Oh, well. There's nothing I can do about it right now.

Trying not to think about it anymore, Blaine grabbed a handful of popcorn and set his attention to whatever stupid talent competition Wes was obsessed with at the moment.

In the end Blaine had decided that it was his duty to check on Kurt. They had been best friends and childhood sweethearts, for god sakes, and he felt like he owed him something. The more he thought about the guiltier he felt. If he had lobbied for it hard enough he probably could have gotten his parents to let him stay in Lima. After the death of Gregory they had been pretty much under his thumb. But the thought had never crossed his mind. He had been an obedient child. He did whatever his parents asked, no matter how unhappy he was. That attitude had stayed with him through his entire young life (except for a goth/punk phase he had gone through, but Blaine didn't like to think about that) and he felt a moral obligation to make sure Kurt was okay. You can't ignore moral obligations, right?

That was how Blaine found himself jogging up the steps to the Law Offices of Hadley and Morgan the following morning, feeling somewhat self-conscious.

The lobby had an old money feel to it, with mahogany furniture and dark granite flooring. A glass fountain served as the divider between the waiting room and the reception desk, where a tall and leggy blonde stood with a peppy smile on her face.

"Can I help you, sir?"

Blaine nodded. "Yeah, I'm looking for Kurt Hummel? I think he might be an intern here? He forgot his briefcase."

The receptionist reached out to take the briefcase, smile never leaving her face. "I can take that for you."

Almost protectively Blaine leaped back, holding the case against his chest. "No, thank you. I'd rather give it to him myself."

The perfect smile faltered for a moment, but then it was back in place and the blonde beside him, taking his arm. "Right this way." She led him through a set of large doors into the connecting hallway, which was lined with other doors bearing various plaques. She opened the third door on the left, which revealed what seemed to be a break room, and let go of his arm. "He's usually behind the water cooler. Make it fast." And then she was gone, the click-clack of her heels fading as she returned to the lobby.

Blaine rushed over to the water cooler, and found what seemed to be a make-shift office. And face-down on the table was Kurt, sleeping, hair fluttering as he exhaled and cheek pressed down against the metal spirals of his notebook. Sunlight shone through the blinds on the window and made a pattern that reached over Kurt and on to the floor. His suit jacket was neatly hanging from another chair and his tie was loosened.

Blaine didn't know what he was feeling.

He wanted to cry, take a picture, shake Kurt awake. The familiarity of that exhale was almost too much to bear, and he contemplated just setting the briefcase down and leaving. Maybe Wes was right. Kurt was just fine on his own and obviously didn't want Blaine back in his life. (He was also the most beautiful thing Blaine had ever seen, but he was trying not to think about that too much) Sighing, he set it down, but his plan was ruined when he turned and knocked over a coffee mug perched on a side table.

"Shit!"

"Mmm?" Kurt's eyes fluttered open, cheeks a little flushed, and Blaine had to stifle a groan. The sudden tightening of his jeans was no coincidence, but he couldn't help it. What was he suppose to do if that face looked exactly how he imagined it would in his bed with a fistful of white sheet after a long night of-

"Blaine. What are you doing here?"

You're not a horny teenager, Blaine chastised himself, before putting his hands up to hopefully deflect anymore angry outbursts. "I'm sorry, I was just returning your briefcase. I'll go."

Silence.

"I mean, if that's really what you want," he added, figuring that it couldn't hurt to try. Kurt sighed, rubbing the mark on his cheek.

"No, I'm sorry. I was extremely tired and agitated last night, seeing you was quite the shock..." He looked at Blaine, eyes still a little clouded with sleep. "It wasn't an excuse for me to be rude, but I was serious. After high school, I learned how to be alone. And now I'm headed down a successful career path where I can make enough to be comfortable, and then maybe I'll think about settling down and being happy."

Blaine let out a frustrated huff. "No offense, Kurt, but this doesn't look like a successful career path." He gestured to the stacks of files and loose sheets of paper spread across the table. "This doesn't even look like a healthy working environment."

Kurt gave him a warning look, and Blaine sighed. "Let me take you out for coffee. One coffee!" he exclaimed when Kurt opened his mouth to protest. "One, and if by the end you feel the same way about me, then I'll never bother you again. I promise."

He waited for Kurt's answer, fully expecting rejection.

"..fine."

Blaine's face broke out into a wide, dopy grin. "Great! I-"

"But, on one condition."

"Anything."

"You let me go home and get cleaned up. I'll meet you at the coffee shop on the corner in an hour."

"Did you sleep here?"

"Go. Now."

Still grinning, Blaine gave Kurt a little wave and practically skipped out. He couldn't remember the last time someone made him feel like this, life a fourteen year old girl, but it was fantastic.