A/N- Double update tonight, my dear readers! 39&40 go hand in hand, so read this one and then hopefully 40 will be ready for you :)
Blaine stays in the apartment all day, alternating between pacing restlessly, picking up his phone to stare at the screen which never lights up, or just sitting, thinking. By six o'clock he can stand it no more, and pulls on a pair of shoes and grabs his keys. The door opens from the other side however, and a timid looking Kurt stands there, eyes red and swollen.
"Can I come in?"
Blaine says nothing, just turns and heads back into the living room, kicking off his shoes and returning to his place on the couch. Kurt follows but remains standing, ill at ease and not really sure what to say or how to act. Clearing his throat nervously, he stares at his feet as he speaks.
"I uh...I went to see Martha."
"Right," Blaine nods tightly.
"I think...I think I'll probably take the tour, if offered."
"Okay."
"I'm just..." Gesturing lamely toward the bedroom, he swallows hard. "I need to pack some things so..."
"Where are you staying?" It's not much, but Kurt hears the crack in Blaine's voice, sees the upset and desperation in his eyes and clings tight to the fact that he doesn't want this to be happening at all.
"Um... With Santana."
"So she knows," Blaine states.
"No...I haven't spoken with her yet, I'm just kind of hoping either her or Lacy will be home."
"I see."
A silence ensues, during which Kurt continues to stare at his feet and Blaine studies his knees, until sensing he's not getting anywhere, Kurt goes into the bedroom and takes a holdall from the closet. He is startled to turn around to find Blaine watching him, tears streaming down his face, but he carries on regardless and packs clothes haphazardly, not caring for once about style or coordination. Once done, he zips the bag and stands there holding it, and finally they make eye contact.
"Please. Don't make me leave," Kurt whispers, dropping the bag as silent sobs tear through his body. "I am a horrible, horrible person, and I have no right at all to beg to be allowed to stay...but I love you so much, Blaine. I don't know how often I can say hurtful things to you and then say I didn't mean them and expect your forgiveness, but I really, really didn't mean any of what I said. I don't think I'll ever forgive myself for it, and I wouldn't blame you if you never spoke to me again, but I just...I just don't want to lose you," he cries, eyes and nose streaming as he breaks down completely and sinks to the floor. "I love you, you're my soulmate and I've just destroyed everything."
"I don't want you to go," Blaine says through a cascade of tears. He shakes his head as he tries to make sense of his thoughts. "I don't want this to be the end of us, I don't want there to ever be an end to us... But I'm not ready to forgive you yet. You took the one thing that you know upsets me the most and you used it to hurt me. Do you know how many times I've worried that you would regret leaving NYADA? You've always reassured me that wasn't the case, and then you suddenly throw all of that at me as if I'm to blame for everything. Whether it was in anger, or through bitterness or whatever, doesn't matter, Kurt. Because it still hurt like a fucking knife.
You know, every relationship has it's own dynamic. You're stronger than me, more forceful, fiery and determined. I'm quieter, the born worrier while you rush headlong into things, and I'm not very brave...but that doesn't mean I'm a push over, Kurt. I won't let you treat me like this. I walked away from Luke because he was too toxic...I can do the same here if this continues. It's going to take me a long time to be over this, and honestly, I hope you do get this tour, because I think we need this time apart to work out where the hell we go from here."
Kurt bites his lip, not trusting himself to speak as he sits cross legged on the floor and looks up at Blaine, who sits on the edge of the bed and runs a weary hand over his face. "You know when you came home?" he asks, and Kurt nods. "I was on my way to look for you. I didn't know where to start, but I just knew I didn't want you to stay somewhere else. I guess we both said things we didn't mean, so I'm sorry too."
"You don't need to apologize," Kurt says with a shake of his head. "Really. I was half expecting to come home and find you with a bottle of whiskey, and I still wouldn't have blamed you one bit."
"I'll get dinner," Blaine says tightly, not wanting to get any further into the discussion. "Unpack your stuff."
"Blaine?"
He stops in the doorway, not looking back. "Yes?"
"Will we be okay?"
He sighs and hangs his head, trying to steady his breathing for a moment. "I don't know."
Their evening is spent in virtual silence, other than muted thanks from Kurt for his dinner, and Blaine politely informing Kurt he is going to the music room to practice. Kurt sits on the couch, trying to decide whether to call his dad or Rachel, but in the end- deciding he doesn't want anyone else involved- he stares at mind numbing tv until Blaine emerges and informs him he's going to bed.
"Yeah. I should too," Kurt says, standing. "I'll uh...I'll take the guest room..."
"No you won't," Blaine says sharply. "You'll sleep in our bed with me. It's where you belong. Where we both belong."
"Blaine I don't think that..." Kurt protests, but the forcefulness behind Blaine's words has him recoiling and scurrying along.
"Go to bed, Kurt. Now."
He changes quickly and climbs under the covers where he waits for Blaine to join him. He is completely baffled when Blaine turns out the light and reaches for him, but he goes willingly, letting him hold him tight and run his hands over his back before he ever so gently grazes their lips together, sighs and then releases him, turning his back to Kurt.
"Goodnight."
"Blaine..."
"I love you," Blaine says, as if that explains it all. "Now please, get some sleep."
When Kurt wakes the next morning Blaine has already left the apartment, despite it being before six. He cleans frantically, a desperate way of passing the time until his audition and then walks despondently from the apartment, noting the car is gone and guessing that means Blaine will be driving to Wes. He walks to his audition and still arrives far too early so he sits outside a small coffee shop to wait, the summer sun streaming down onto his face- which would ordinarily have him feeling excited at the promise of time with Blaine and their families celebrating the twins birthday but now makes him wish for winter where it would be acceptable to curl up under a duvet and stay there. The vibration of his phone surprises him, the message even more so.
Good luck...break a leg. I love you, my gorgeous boy xxxx
And he wipes frantically at his eyes as he crosses the street and heads into the theatre. He doesn't return home immediately after, but lets his feet carry him to a small apartment where he knocks before thinking better of it and turning to walk away.
"Kurt?" Santana's head pokes around the door and she spots him just about to turn the corner. "Did you want me?"
"No...no...I...," he trails off uselessly as he begins to cry once more and he stands there in the hallway sobbing until Santana rushes to take him in her arms.
"Oh Kurt, don't cry. Please, please. Come on, come inside." She ushers him into the apartment, and he is grateful to note that they seem to be alone.
"I think I've lost him, Santana," he sobs into her arms. "I think we're done."
"Oh hush, hush," she says, guiding him to the couch where she still holds him tightly. "You've not lost him at all. You two are for life. He'll come around, you just both need time."
"He's told you then," he sniffs.
"He's not told me anything," she answers honestly. "But he's been here crying most of the day."
"Huh?"
"He arrived just after six this morning and asked if he could sit here awhile. Guy looked terrible so I let him in and made him some coffee. He was incredibly composed until Lacy left for work and then he broke down. He refused to tell me what was wrong, but I guessed it must be to do with you, otherwise he'd be spilling to you instead. So...wanna share?"
"I don't think I can," he whispers. "I think I want to keep this between us, if that's okay?"
"Of course," she nods. "It's your marriage." Smiling sweetly, she tucks a stray lock of his hair back in place and kisses his forehead lightly. "Just make sure you talk to each other, okay?"
"Okay," he says, offering a weak smile. "You know, you're actually really kind."
"I know," she says, patting his knee and walking to the kitchen area. "But tell anyone and I'll rip your balls off. Besides, my motives are purely selfish, I can assure you."
"Oh?"
"Yeah. You and Blaine are my family. I need for you to be together because all my life I've chased that happy ending."
"I thought you had one?"
"I do with Lacy, I think," she nods. "But you guys are something else. Pretty much everything to me, in fact." She smiles ruefully as she sets a sandwich on the coffee table in front of him. "But tell anyone and I'll..."
"Yeah, yeah."
He stays with Santana until late, returning home to hear the strains of a haunting melody coming from the piano. The music is sad and melancholy, and Kurt is irresistibly drawn to the doorway where he watches Blaine play until he breaks with one hand to pat the bench next to him.
Kurt goes willingly and as Blaine continues to play he rests his head onto his husbands shoulder and sighs, content to sit quietly and watch his fingers fly over the keys, working their magic. The piece draws to a close but Blaine moves seamlessly onto something else, cracking one eye open to watch Kurt's reaction when he starts to sing.
"Right from the start
You were a thief
You stole my heart
And I your willing victim
I let you see the parts of me
That weren't all that pretty
And with every touch you fixed them
Now you've been talking in your sleep, oh, oh
Things you never say to me, oh, oh
Tell me that you've had enough
Of our love, our love
Just give me a reason
Just a little bit's enough
Just a second we're not broken just bent
And we can learn to love again
It's in the stars
It's been written in the scars on our hearts
We're not broken just bent
And we can learn to love again"
Kurt, having jolted at the start and having wanted to run, now finds himself ready and willing to sing with him, embracing the opportunity to lose himself in song as he has on so many occasions with his husband, but this time it's as if they're singing for their lives.
"I'm sorry I don't understand
Where all of this is coming from
I thought that we were fine.
Oh, we had everything
Your head is running wild again
My dear we still have everythin'
And it's all in your mind
Yeah, but this is happenin'
"You've been havin' real bad dreams, oh, oh
You still lie so close to me, oh, oh
There's nothing more than empty sheets
Between our love, our love
Oh, our love, our love"
"Just give me a reason
Just a little bit's enough
Just a second we're not broken just bent
And we can learn to love again
I never stopped
You're still written in the scars on my heart
You're not broken just bent
And we can learn to love again"
"Oh, tear ducts and rust
I'll fix it for us
We're collecting dust
But our love's enough
You're holding it in
You're pouring a drink
No nothing is as bad as it seems
We'll come clean"
"Just give me a reason
Just a little bit's enough
Just a second we're not broken just bent
And we can learn to love again
It's in the stars
It's been written in the scars on our hearts
That we're not broken just bent
And we can learn to love again"
Blaine makes to play another chorus but Kurt's hand suddenly finds the back of his neck and pulls him in for a long kiss, which to both their surprise, he readily accepts- halting the song so he can turn on the bench and kiss Kurt back, chasing after him when he pulls away.
"No," Kurt breathes, eyes dancing with hope as he studies Blaine's face. "Not yet. It's not the answer. I love you too much to fall into bed with you before this is all worked through. We're better than that, you and I."
"You're right," Blaine sighs, but he doesn't let go of Kurt, only shuffles closer so he can press their foreheads together. "You got it, didn't you?"
"Yes," Kurt says softly. "I leave in a week, and it's intensive rehearsals until then."
"Right." Blaine pauses, doing a quick calculation in his head. "You won't be in New York with me."
"Not this time, no. I'll meet you in LA for the twins birthday. The tour is the west coast so I thought I'd take some time to be with Joe."
"He's moved back in with Cooper."
"Oh."
"Doesn't mean you can't visit of course," Blaine shrugs.
"I thought they were worried about the press..."
"I think he just stuck a finger up at the lot of them and decided it was more important to be true to himself. He likes living with them, they like having him there so..."
"Right. Well... Four weeks..."
"Yes."
"Sometimes you fly to see me..."
"Not this time, Kurt," Blaine shakes his head sadly. "I need you to understand this. I love you, and I want this marriage to work. We need this time apart, okay? I'll call, write, text...but...simply put, I don't want to see you for a while."
"Great," he mutters darkly.
"No, don't go getting all angry at me again!" Blaine cries in desperation. "It's no good me flying to SanFran for twenty four hours of hot sex, don't you see that? That's not going to accomplish anything except to complicate this mess even further. I'll meet you in LA, we'll muddle through a couple of days with everyone and then when we get back we can really thrash it all out."
"But why then? Why not now?" Kurt demands. "You're sending me off on a tour feeling like shit, Blaine."
"Because I can't forgive you yet, that's why!" he yells, and any composure he did have left flies out of the window as he stands and paces restlessly about the room. "And I'm sending you off feeling like shit? Kurt, just listen to yourself, listen! You know, I'm not ready to talk yet but neither are you. You need to really take time to figure out what you want and how you want to proceed because this pattern of fierce loving and fighting, with you hurting me over and over and then begging for forgiveness cannot continue."
"You're right," Kurt sighs, nodding wearily. "It can't. I just don't know how to make it all better."
"Blaine," Wes snaps down the phone a week later. "I've just had a sobbing, and I mean hysterically sobbing, Kurt on the phone. Care to explain?"
"He's gone on tour."
"He goes on tour every summer, Blaine, as do you. It sucks, but neither of you have ever called me in that state before now. He could hardly breathe. I was sitting there listening to him cry and feeling sick to my stomach at not being able to help him. He took twenty minutes to tell me what was wrong."
"He told you?"
"Well...no," Wes admits. "Not exactly. He just kept asking me to take care of you, to try and visit if I can and to make sure you were safe in New York."
Blaine sighs wearily. "You don't need to visit."
"Blaine...are you two okay?"
Blaine pauses, a split second away from breaking down and telling Wes the lot, but something stops him. The knowledge that he needs to work this through with his husband, that this is what his marriage means, stops him and he finds himself saying "Fine, just fine."
"Sure?"
"I'm sure," Blaine says emphatically. "Now how are your wedding plans coming on?"
He is awoken the next morning by the continual sound of his buzzer, loud and droning in his ears. He stares at the ceiling, deciding it is far too early to deal with Santana, though he knows he gave her the same rude awakening a week ago. He is grateful when it falls silent, and he rolls over, returning to sleep right away. When he wakes again it is with sudden fright, sitting bolt upright when he realizes someone is in his apartment and...they're making coffee?
Dazed and more than a little confused, he walks into the kitchen to find Wes sitting at his kitchen table, reading a newspaper. "Santana has a key," he says, without looking up.
"Since when?" an incredulous Blaine asks.
"Since she took the spare from here and had it copied, apparently."
"What? That girl has no boundaries."
"I'm grateful for that right now. Look Blaine, you may not want to tell either her or me what's going on, and that's fine. But something is very wrong between the pair of you, of that there is no doubt. So here's the plan." Setting the newspaper aside, he looks up at Blaine, still standing in his pajamas and staring at Wes as if he's speaking Chinese. "I'm here for a week. After that it's daily visits from Santana or Lacy until Seb arrives."
"Sebastian?"
"Is coming for a few days, yes. Then you'll go off on tour with the orchestra, and I spoke with some insane Italian who tells me you're- and I quote- 'spectacular gay Blaine'- and he promises me that he will keep an eye on you. His obligation ends when he puts you on a plane to LA, where hopefully, your husband will be waiting for you."
"Kurt..."
"Kurt didn't fare quite so well in our little plan," Wes says with a small smile. "Seb flew to Portland today to no doubt annoy him intensely for a few days. After that it's Rachel's turn. On the bright side-if he can keep going that long- Joe will be waiting for him in LA."
"You...you did all this for us?"
"Blaine, we all love you both as individuals, but even more together. You two need each other. If any of us weren't sure we wouldn't be doing this, but whatever is going on, you love each other too much to give up."
"I do," Blaine says as he sinks into a chair, clutching gratefully at Wes' hand. "I really do love him so much."
"Then get past whatever it is, Blaine. You have to."
"I will," he nods ferverently. "I will. I'm just not sure if he can."
He finds himself grateful for the distraction that Wes' visit brings, and to his eternal relief, Wes never pushes for any details. He does, however, follow him around like a shadow, including sitting in on all orchestra rehearsals.
"I know what you're worried about, and it's not going to happen," Blaine tells him one day as they arrive home. "Apart from the night before my wedding, I haven't touched whiskey since...well actually there's a bottle on top of the kitchen cabinets that Kurt pushed up there one time when I was tempted. But I never drank any."
"You've just left it there?"
"I can't reach," he admits. "But I haven't even thought about it until now."
"Right." He's up there in no time, grabbing the bottle and emptying it down the sink.
"Hey! That's money!"
"Eh, you're rich enough. Now go call your husband while I cook us dinner."
The part of the day Blaine dreads always seems to arrive just when he's staring to feel better. His stomach lurches as he dials and waits, secretly hoping that Kurt will have been called to makeup early, or won't pick up...anything to not have to endure the stilting conversation and awkward pauses.
"Hey."
"Hey. How are you?"
"Okay," Kurt says quietly. "Seb went home today. We move on to San Fran tomorrow, and Rachel arrives Monday."
"A few days peace, then."
"I'm really going to miss him actually," Kurt sighs. "Though not as much as I miss you."
"You miss me?" Blaine asks, the unmistakable delight and surprise evident in his voice.
"Of course. I love you, dumbass."
Blaine laughs. "You haven't said that in a while,"
"You haven't laughed in a while."
"There's not been much to laugh about," Blaine says and immediately regrets the words as soon as they're out of his mouth, bringing with them the sound of silence once more.
"No, I suppose not," Kurt says after a while. "You know... I didn't mean the stuff I said...about New York."
"I know," Blaine sighs. "But that doesn't make it any easier. And it's not just that, is it? It's not just what you said that day it's...it's... It's so many things. Your resentment of my success, your moods when you don't get an audition, or when you take a job you hate...I don't know which is worse, really."
"And for me it's the same," Kurt flares, running a hand through his hair in exasperation. "Your mood when you're working, continually whistling or humming, or if not then practising the same piece of music over and over again while I sit there, without a job to go to, listening to you go on about Riccardo this, Ken that, Maria this, Abby that."
"You like those people!"
"Actually, I do," Kurt concedes. "But I still feel like you're rubbing your success in my face all the time."
"I'm not rubbing it in your fucking face!" he yells loudly. "I want you to be a part of it, but you're so hung up on your own bitterness and self loathing that you can't see that!"
"Okay, okay," Wes says brightly, barging into the bedroom and taking the phone from Blaine. "This isn't doing either of you any good. Take some time to cool off and Blaine, you can call Kurt later tonight."
"Stay the fuck out of my marriage," Blaine snarls before locking himself in the bathroom.
"Kurt? Is that okay? If Blaine calls you later?"
"Whatever," Kurt snaps. "He can go..."
"Okay, bye!" Wes calls cheerily, hanging up and tossing the phone onto the bed. "Anger is progress, Blaine!" he calls at the bathroom door. "Just remember that."
Wes stays with him through the anger, Santana looks after him through the contemplative silence, and Sebastian arrives for the tears, offering Blaine tissue after tissue and letting him cry until he's done for an hour or so before starting all over again.
"To think I used to want to sleep with you," he remarks, taking in Blaine's blotchy, swollen face as he lies curled on the bed.
"Nah you didn't," he sniffles, sitting up to blow his nose.
"No, I didn't," Sebastian confirms, settling back against the headboard. "Anyone, actually. I just wanted to sleep with anyone."
"You still do."
"True. Doesn't mean I'm not envious though."
"It's not all it's cracked up to be."
"Marriage?" Seb asks and Blaine nods. "Yeah it is. You're just moping right now. And that's fine, you're entitled. But you know it's all you've ever wanted. You and Kurt...since day one, when we were all teasing you for crushing on a fifteen year old... You knew it was where you'd end up- or hoped, anyway. And you were both lucky enough that it happened. You'll get through this."
"I'm wondering if we need a counselor or something."
"Why do you need a counselor?" Seb says with a laugh. "Don't you have any friends?"
Blaine hangs his head and Sebastian laughs, reaching across to ruffle his hair. "Ooh, your hair is all soft without the gel."
"Kurt likes my hair," he whispers, which brings on a fresh bout of tears.
"You know, Wes is getting worked up about you not saying what's wrong, but I don't think anything is wrong at all."
Blaine turns his head to look at him. "What do you mean?"
"Well he's not had an affair... you don't want to move to Mexico... You've just lost sight of one another."
"Yeah," Blaine sighs heavily, settling back against the headboard next to him. "I think you're right."
"And speaking from absolutely no experience whatsoever, it's a common problem in relationships that have been going as long as yours. Six years... For Kurt that's more than a quarter of his life."
"Oh Jesus."
"I think, that as your friends, we've done all we can right now. You need to see him, face to face. And you want my advice?"
"You're gonna give it to me anyway."
"I am," Sebastian confirms. "When was the last time you spent a whole summer together?"
"Three years ago," Blaine says, suddenly realizing how terrible that sounds.
"Exactly, and it was crap because you were broke. He doesn't need to tour each summer...actually, I really don't know why he bothers. But neither do you. Your band tours all the time..."
"It's not a..."
"Whatever," he dismisses. "Get the schedule, sit down with Kurt and work out which ones you want to do- together."
Blaine sits, quietly stunned. "That's...that's actually really good advice. I don't know why I didn't think of that before."
"Because you like to punish yourself by going to New York every summer, that's why," he smiles. "But I think going there has got as easy as it's ever gonna get for you- thanks to Kurt. Just let it go. The girls have moved away, there's nothing there for you. You have the recognition and the admiration you set out to achieve from the classical world, you don't need to prove anything to anyone anymore."
"I have to go there in a couple of weeks," Blaine points out. "I'm signed up for the tour."
"Then do it this once and then go to Kurt," Sebastian says emphatically. "He needs you."
But he is taken aback when after ten days of the tour, Riccardo corners him in Boston and announces he's booked him on a flight to LA the next morning.
"I can't, we have New York."
"No Blaine," he says with a shake of his head. "We have New York. Not you. You have a husband whom I like very much, and you need to be with him right now. The orchestra can manage without you. Go to him."
"I don't know what to say," Blaine says, overwhelmed with gratitude.
"You say thank you Riccardo and get on plane," he smiles. "And when you return to Chicago there is a reception on the eighteenth. I do need you there for that...because it's in your honor."
"My...what?" Blaine asks, stunned. "Why?"
"Relax," Riccardo laughs. "It's your grand unveiling as our new concert pianist, that's all. The first one the symphony has had. It's very unusual to keep a pianist on the roll in an orchestra."
"I know that. But are you expecting me to play, or what?"
"A couple of pieces, maybe," Riccardo shrugs. "Nothing of monumental impotence."
"Importance," Blaine corrects with a smirk.
"And your husband will be back by your side where he belongs."