I don't even have an excuse. I'm sorry.
Still rolling with that sense series! Be warned, this is an angsty drabble.
Scent
Kurt's scent lingers; it lingers long after he leaves.
It lingers between the sheets where Blaine cries himself to sleep, on the pile of unread books on his nightstand.
It's in the closet between his clothes. Blaine sinks to the floor there with tears on his cheeks and holds Kurt's favorite sweater to his chest.
It lingers in the shower, in his shampoo bottle and his tub of conditioner. Blaine lets himself cry audibly not in the shower, where his sobs are drowned in the noise of running water.
It's on the chair in front of the computer in the office, and Blaine can't help but think that the chair looks so empty with no one sitting on it. Still, he won't let the cat touch it.
It lingers in the kitchen by the coffee maker, in the cupboard full of his special chocolates. Blaine doesn't eat his meals at home anymore.
It's still on the couch because Blaine doesn't let anyone sit there. It's where Kurt sits, he says. He doesn't cry when everyone looks at him.
Kurt's scent lingers on Blaine's skin, no matter how many times he's scrubbed it in the shower until it turned red. Kurt's scent lingers in Blaine's mind, wrapping around it and choking, almost, not letting him escape.
Kurt's scent lingers; it lingers long after he leaves.