Ahh fuck my stomach hurts so bad. I think it could be somehow connected to me eating McDonald's today. And probably not drinking enough. Fuck.

Eat salads and drink eight glasses of water a day, kids.

I Can Feel the Pressure

Kurt swore at the notebook as he erased the same line for the fifth time. The page was getting wrinkly. He drew the line carefully once more, and then erased it again quickly, groaning. He was getting more frustrated by the second, and the next line was drawn forcefully, becoming almost engraved in the paper. He almost yowled in irritation, trying to erase what was now very difficult to fix. It wasn't just right.

Kurt jumped when a pair of hands found his back, massaging it unexpectedly.

"Honey," Blaine said softly, cautious not to make him blow up, "you've been grunting at that thing for the last hour. Maybe-"

"No!" he yelled, his fist landing on the table. The vase with the pink and yellow tulips in it shook. "Stop trying to act like you know best! I will get this fucking sketch right! Isabelle asked for it to be ready by tomorrow and it will be fucking done if it's the last thing I do on this planet!"

Blaine's hands didn't stop massaging his shoulders, and somehow it was worse. Why couldn't Blaine be fucking mad at him for a change? Kurt saw red, tasted metal on his tongue. He was a second away from strangling his husband.

When Blaine spoke, his voice was almost inaudible, smooth and caressing. "Isabelle will understand."

That punched Kurt right in the gut, and he crumbled into a tiny ball, pulling his legs up to his chest and laying his head on the table. Blaine followed his movements, as he always did, changing the angle to hug him from his side, sitting on his knees and pulling Kurt into his lap in a tight embrace.

"It's okay, sweetie. You know Isabelle. She won't ever be mad at you. Everything's fine," he whispered into his ear, cradling the messy ball of ruffled hair, shaky sobs and tears.

"It's-it's not," whimpered Kurt. "I yelled at you because I was stressed about work and that's not okay."

Blaine kissed his hair. It tasted horribly, but he didn't care. "I understand, love. That happens."

Kurt sniffed, leaning deeper into Blaine's warmth. "I'm sorry."

"I already forgave you."

"I really don't deserve you," Kurt sighed. "I'm stupid and mean and I can't even draw a belt buckle."

Blaine didn't sigh or roll his eyes. He knew Kurt could obsess just a little bit too much sometimes. "You're not. And Isabelle will love this design no matter how the belt buckle looks like," he promised.

Kurt inhaled deeply, then exhaled slowly and buried his head in the crook of Blaine's neck. "Thank you."

Flower meaning: Pink tulips are for caring, while the yellow ones stand for being hopelessly in love. (Blaine got them for Kurt, maybe to surprise him after a long day at work?)

Title from Paramore's 'Pressure'.

Um, I might go back tomorrow and edit the ending of this, because I didn't like it too much… I just can't think properly at the moment with my stomach like this. Sorry...