Chapter 16

"So anyway, I guess that's everything from the beginning to the end. I'm not…I'm not even that angry anymore, you know? Just…sad. About the whole thing."

Blaine brought his gaze up to meet the two boys sitting across from him at the large wooden spool they used as a table in their dwelling. Nick and Jeff had been so kind to let him stay with them the last few days. They told him he could stay as long as he needed, but when he was ready, they would help him build a new home. The three of them were on the building team together after all, and it wouldn't take too long for them to have a place all of Blaine's own, away from Kurt, where he could start to rebuild his life.

As the silence between the three of them began to grow awkward, Blaine quickly spoke again.

"Enough about that, though," he said with a forced smile and laugh. He was slowly turning back into his pre-escape self, eager to please, never wanting to appear as anything less than jovial and agreeable. Always catering to others, that was Blaine. "Tell me about you guys, how did you meet? How did you end up here?"

Nick and Jeff turned to look at each other at the same time. Nick was always the more outspoken of the two, and it was natural for him to take the lead.

"Well, we grew up in the same dormitory in Cleveland's New Reality. We were always best friends, and then one day it became something more."

Jeff cleared his throat and shot Nick a look that seemed to suggest that it wasn't a great idea to go in-depth with their falling-in-love story with their heartbroken friend sitting three feet away.

"Anyway," Nick transitioned somewhat clumsily. Blaine didn't seem to notice. He looked like he was lost in his own sad world, trying to pay attention and be polite. "We both tested infertile, and in Cleveland, they gave Infertiles the option of staying or going."

"Yeah but with people like us," Jeff interjected, indicating between the two of them, "they'd rather see us go. Less chance of us tempting a fertile male to stray from his child-conceiving duties."

Blaine smirked at that. "So how did you get here?"

"Well, luckily, my uncle was an official in Cleveland," Nick continued. "I always resented him for not taking me in after my parents died and making me live in the dormitories, but he paid some transporters to ensure a safe passage for us. It was the only decent thing he ever did for me."

"Wow," Blaine said, leaning back in his chair. "That's an incredible story."

"Are you kidding?" Jeff said incredulously. "We couldn't have had an easier time of it getting here. Whereas you were climbing trees and fighting the official goons and living off of the land. You really fought to get here."

"No, it was…it was all Kurt, actually," Blaine dropped his gaze and crossed his arms. "He did everything. There's no way we would have made it even a tenth of the way without him. He was amazing."

Nick and Jeff exchanged sidelong glances.

"Listen, buddy, what do you say we start drawing up plans for your new place?" Nick asked, standing up and putting his hand on Blaine's shoulder. He could feel Blaine's muscles relax slightly under his touch. "It'll be great, we can put in a bedroom, a living room, and we've even been working out a way to have an indoor shower. We're happy to test all of our crazy ideas on you!"

Blaine laughed softly and uncrossed his arms, looking back and forth between the two boys. "Thanks guys, I think that sounds great. Let's do it."

"Rise and shine! Oh my God, what is that smell?"

Kurt's eyes slowly opened and all he saw in front of him was the unfinished wooden wall, no more than two inches from his nose. His body was flush with the wall, jammed up on one edge of the bed as if trying to take up as little room as possible. He couldn't remember falling asleep, but then again, he couldn't remember the last time he woke up either.

"Kurt, get up," a voice ordered, stripping the thin blanket from him, exposing his loosely clothed body to the crisp morning air. He groaned and rolled over, squinting in the light from the open doorway.

Santana slowly came into focus, standing above him. She held a plate with food that smelled both delicious and disgusting to Kurt. Her nose was wrinkled and Kurt saw that his dishwater grey blanket had been unceremoniously dumped on the dusty floorboards.

"When is the last time you ate?" She asked, a mixture of concern and disgust playing on her features. "Or bathed? I didn't think it was possible to smell as bad as you do."

"What day is it?" he croaked, his vocal chords getting their first workout in days.

"It's the day you stop feeling sorry for yourself and you get back to life. Sit up. Eat."

Santana plunked the plate of food in his lap as soon as both of his feet were on the floor. His stomach growled loud enough for Santana to hear, but she pretended she didn't.

Kurt picket up a hunk of bread and tore a small piece off, chewing it clumsily, as if he was learning how to eat again. Santana tossed a water bottle at him, which bounced off of his arm and onto the floor, rolling until it stopped at his foot. He reached down and grabbed it, twisting the cap off and taking a long, slow sip.

"How is he?" Kurt asked, after he'd eaten about half of the contents on the plate and drank the whole bottle of water. It felt good to eat a full meal after so many days, but he didn't want to overdo it.

"I'm not here to talk about Blaine, I'm here to talk about you," Santana said. She was hoping her tough love approach would kick start Kurt back into the world of the living, but she softened a bit when she saw the look on his face. "He's fine. He's handling it better than you would think. Better than I would have handled it, that's for sure. How could you do something like that, Kurt? After everything Blaine has done for you? He loves you, and you just shit all over that."

Kurt's heart jumped a bit when Santana said 'loves'. Blaine had used the past tense with him, but maybe after the last week, he's had a change of heart. Maybe he still loved Kurt after all.

"Kurt! I asked you a question."

"I don't know," Kurt answered honestly. "I took the best thing that ever happened to me and I threw it away. He's never going to forgive me."

"If it were me, I would never forgive you," Santana stated bluntly. "If the roles were reversed, I'm not sure you'd ever forgive him. But Blaine's different than us, Kurt. He's got a big heart. I knew that the first day I met him. I'm not saying it's going to be easy, and I definitely don't think you deserve it, but I think he'll give you a second chance. Eventually."

Kurt hung onto Santana's words like a lifesaver in a stormy sea. She knew Blaine almost as well as Kurt did, and if she saw hope, especially after spending the last week with him in her home, then it was enough for Kurt to have hope too.

Kurt cast the half-eaten plate to the bed and stood up, reaching for his jeans and an over shirt.

"Wait, where are you going?" Santana asked, standing up and blocking his way to the small closet.

"I'm going to get Blaine back. I'm going to win his forgiveness and then his heart and I'm going to get him back."

"Whoa, whoa, whoa," Santana shook her head, "sit down. First of all, you smell like roadkill that's been baking in the sun for three days. Second of all, you can't just barge in and demand that Blaine forgive you, that's not going to work. This is going to take time. Probably a lot of time, and even then, he's in charge the whole time, no questions asked. He sets the pace, he sets the tone, and you'll just be happy to take whatever bone he's willing to throw your way. But before you do anything else, you need to get yourself back under control. If you go to him looking…and smelling…the way you do right now, you'll just scare him off. Now, for the love of all that is holy, go take a shower. Put on clean clothes, not these nasty jeans and pit-stained t-shirt. Then come back here, and clean up this disgusting rat's nest you call home. Then, we'll go from there."

Santana turned on her heel, scooping up Kurt's dirty clothes from various surfaces around the room with disdain as she left. He plopped back down on the bed, exhaling hard. He caught his reflection in the small mirror by the basin and was shocked at his appearance. He looked terrible. His hair was a matted mess, his face grimy with dirt and tear tracks and his cheeks were hollower than they'd been during their long escape. But his eyes were bright for the first time in a week.

He was already starting to formulate a plan. Operation Get Blaine Back was about to commence.