Miss me?
Hi everyone! I'm so happy to finally be back with more Cause and Effect which is, as of this week, a completed fic! You still have a few more chapters to go but I managed to finish the last couple of chapters that I was struggling with. So I'm relieve and excited about that.
Thanks for all your patience during my little hiatus. Hope it'll be worth the wait.
I also need to thank Christine, for her amazing, hard work as my beta, and Sofi, for pushing me past the finish line. I'm so lucky to have you both.
Alright, it's time for the new chapter! The song featured in this one is I'm Not Leaving.
Hey big shoes, once I was young like you
I loved like you, opened my heart like you
Well don't be scared just 'cause you've been stripped bare
You feel things that most people never do
"Why does papa look like he's mad at everyone?"
Blaine looked away from where he was slicing fruit for the kids' breakfast and found Lena standing beside him, frowning up at him, like she was truly concerned.
It was certainly a reasonable question. Jack's mood had been difficult lately, and it hadn't improved after their lunch. Maybe Blaine hadn't been the only one to see that there was something broken between them, but as long as his husband was willing to try, he would, too.
"He's just a little stressed because of work," he lied, and though he hated lying to his children, telling his daughter that his papa needed to get laid was probably not the way to go about this.
"Are you sure?" She insisted. She was too smart for her own good. "What if he's mad at me? I didn't mean to drop my glass of water on him. I was just distracted…"
Before her lower lip began to wobble and the tears began to build in her eyes – because he knew that was coming next – he knelt down on the floor in front of her and puller her into his arms. He kissed her hair – it still smelled like flowers from the bath she had taken last night before bed. "I promise it's not that," he said softly. "It has absolutely nothing to do with you or Theo. And he knows it was an accident. So don't worry about it, okay? Why don't you just help me set the table for breakfast?"
Lena nodded, and though she still looked a little subdued, she obediently opened the cutlery drawer and carefully began to grab forks and spoons, letting Blaine to take care of the knives.
Most of the time, Jack simply looked sad, miserable, and Blaine guessed he just missed Eddie. But there were times when he was clearly frustrated and annoyed, and it told Blaine that he also missed Eddie, just in a different way. He could relate – when he and Kurt couldn't coincide enough to meet at the hotel, it felt like there was an insistent itch inside of him that he couldn't scratch away. It had felt like that a lot, too, being married to Jack, before he met Kurt, before he even knew Eddie existed. So he understood.
He still didn't feel bad for him, though. He couldn't.
But he wondered what had happened – if Jack clearly missed him, did that mean Eddie had broken up with him? What had happened? Going behind Blaine's back hadn't been a problem, so he assumed it wasn't guilt that had made his husband stop fucking someone else…
Blaine sighed. He guessed he didn't have a right to be so mad about it anymore, considering he had been doing the same thing.
But guilt always pooled inside of him. It had become a constant companion he wasn't too fond of.
Jack came into the kitchen then, looking like he was on his way to a funeral. He went straight to the coffee pot and poured himself a cup, before leaning against the counter and giving it a sip, staring at the wall blankly.
Lena had finished setting the table so Blaine sent her to check if Theo was awake, before he turned to his husband.
"Lena is worried about you," he said plainly. "She thinks you might be mad at her. So if you could stop looking like someone in this house wronged you, I'd appreciate it."
"Why does she think I'm mad at her?" Jack asked, confused.
"Because you actually look mad at all of us, Jack," Blaine retorted with a bit of impatience he didn't mean.
Jack groaned. "Fine. You don't have to be such a dick about it, though, you know?"
Blaine quirked an eyebrow at him. "Would you like to reword that, or are we about to have an actual reason for your bad mood?"
Jack took another long, slow sip of coffee. He seemed to choose not to reply, so Blaine just rolled his eyes, annoyed. For every step forward they took, a million more backwards followed. He could never win with him, could he?
"Do whatever you want," Blaine said sharply. "Just don't take it out on the kids."
Jack huffed, and he was the one who seemed annoyed now. Which wasn't new, really. "Can't I just have a bad day?"
"You've been having a lot of bad days lately," Blaine replied. He took a deep breath, tried to mitigate the anger rising inside of him, the resentment. He looked at his husband and tried again: "You're allowed bad days, Jack. We all are. But at least when the kids are around, can you please smile and pretend for their sake? That's all I'm asking."
Running a hand down his face, it took a couple of seconds for Jack to nod. "I know. It's not their fault. Sorry."
"It's okay," Blaine said, even though it wasn't. Nothing in their life was okay at the moment.
After another sip of coffee, Jack looked at him, looking less angry about everything around him and a bit more tolerant. "So what's in the plans for today?"
"Well, Theo has outgrown his clothes for the third time in just a handful of months. He needs new pants," Blaine said. He watched him. "Did you… want to come with us?"
Jack had never been a fan of shopping, so Blaine never expected him to say yes. But since he had invited him over for lunch at work, Blaine wasn't sure what to expect anymore. Maybe he would surprise him.
Jack scrunched his nose like he had offered him to go clean toilets at the airport for free. "Pass. But… maybe we can all sit down for a movie tonight?"
Trying. That was all they had left, just the trying.
So after breakfast, Jack stayed home doing the dishes and the laundry and Blaine grabbed the kids and went out. Lena still looked a little crestfallen, so he promised her they could do something of her choice before they went back home. That seemed to cheer her up a bit.
It was cold but sunny, so Blaine pushed the stroller down the sidewalk, letting Lena chat alongside him about what they could do besides getting clothes for Theo. Her list was impressively long considering they had only left the apartment ten minutes ago.
Once they were in the store, she got distracted looking at the baby clothes ("can we get some of these for my dolls?") and Blaine picked a few new outfits for Theo, trying to make sure these ones would last him at least until the end of the winter.
He got distracted for a moment, trying to find a sweater he liked in Theo's size, when he heard Lena, right behind him: "Oh hi Kurt!"
Surprised, Blaine turned around and found Kurt standing there, arms full of baby clothes. "Kurt! What are you doing here?" He asked, unable to stop the smile that came to his face.
The corner of Kurt's lips pulled up. He looked half guilty, half amused. "Not following you, I promise. This is starting to get creepy." He laughed. "I'm picking up clothes for my friends' new baby."
"Oh right, how are they all doing?" Blaine wanted to know. "Is Daisy happy to be a big sister?"
"She is, yeah," Kurt replied. "And both Santana and the baby are doing great. Brittany is spoiling them all rotten."
Blaine looked at the pile of clothes he was holding and grinned. "Are you trying to dress that baby until he's in kindergarten?"
Kurt chuckled. "Well, you know shopping's my weakness, so…" He shrugged, and then looked down at Lena, who was still beaming up at him like he was the best thing she had ever seen. "How are you doing, sweetie? Did you… did you like your Christmas present?"
Blaine felt like he had been punched in the stomach.
Lena, completely unaware of her father's current state of tribulation, bounced excitedly. "Yes! Santa got me so many awesome things. A couple of dolls and ice skates and clothes…"
Kurt glanced briefly at Blaine, and then back at her. "No... no new books then?"
"Not this time, no," she shrugged. "But that's fine. I'll ask my dads to get me books for my birthday."
Blaine looked at him apologetically. He couldn't tell him, right here in front of his kids, that the manuscript he had given him for them was hidden in a drawer of his desk at work, so they couldn't find it accidentally at home.
"Oh." Kurt's smile fell, but he put it back on again, like a bright mask to hide his disappointment. "Well, those are all amazing presents! You must have been a really good girl. What about Theo's presents?"
While Lena told him about all the presents Theo had gotten, helped by the little boy who seemed very delighted with Kurt at the moment, Blaine stood there and tried not to feel like the worst person in the world.
Kurt's awkwardness was very evident, and he could only hide it enough for the kids not to notice, but Blaine knew him well. "That's all great. I'm really happy you two had a nice Christmas," he glanced at Blaine briefly, blue eyes shifting away at once. "I should go now, but it's been nice running into you."
"Can I give you a hug?" Lena said out of nowhere.
Kurt looked like he was about to burst into tears. "Of course. I'd love a hug," he said, and knelt on the floor so she could put her arms around his neck. He held her back so tightly with his free arm, like he never wanted to let go, and all Blaine could do was stand there and feel bad. "Thanks, Lena. This might be my favorite hug I've ever gotten."
She smiled at him as they pulled away. She always smiled so big around him. "Will we see you soon, Kurt?"
Kurt pointedly did not look at Blaine. "I don't know, sweetheart. Maybe we'll run into each other again. But you take care of yourself, okay? And take care of your brother."
"I will!" She said happily.
Kurt stood up. His eyes found Blaine's and then they were somewhere else again. "I have to go. I promised the girls I'd go see them, so…"
"Sure," Blaine said. God, the guilt. It was unbearable. "Kurt, I…"
"I'm sorry," he said very quietly, for only him to hear. "I'll talk to you later, Blaine."
He was gone before Blaine could apologize.
If it weren't because he had his kids with him, Blaine would have chased after him.
Maybe he should have done it anyway.
Instead, he carried the guilt with him for the rest of the day.
Kurt arrived at Santana and Brittany's place in a flurry of bags and misery. He told himself he was being an idiot, and yet that did not help him feel better. It only made him feel worse.
He was an idiot, alright. How had he thought it was appropriate to give his lover's children a Christmas present? And Blaine had been too nice to say it was creepy and out of line. It was a miracle he hadn't broken up with Kurt right there and then.
If there was anything to break up – could you break up with someone you weren't even dating? Because they weren't, were they? They couldn't. They belonged with other people.
Even if Kurt currently felt like he didn't belong anywhere at all.
It was always such a soul-crushing thing, seeing Blaine with his kids, and he knew it was stupid. Everything about this was stupid. He had nothing to do with them. He wasn't part of them. He would never be part of them. If he was lucky, Lena would one day look back on her childhood days and remember that author her dad had known, the one that had been her favorite, the one that had been kind to her on the few occasions they ran into each other, and that would be a fond memory. And that was all Kurt could aspire to be: a fond memory, many years from now.
He wasn't going to cry in his friends' living room while Santana changed a diaper. He just wasn't going to cry at all.
But he felt like he was coming undone at the edges, like he was near a breaking point, and he had no idea what to do about it.
How do you hold yourself together when you have nothing to hold yourself together for?
Little Robin was still too small and wrinkled, but he was precious, a non-angry and non-snarky version of his mother. He had inherited Santana's dark hair and dark eyes. Kurt watched her pick him up once he was changed and hold him to her chest. She swayed back and forth with him for a moment, humming under her breath.
"Brit took Daisy to the bakery. She wanted to pick up some pastries for a little tea party," Santana explained quietly, not wanting to disturb her son.
"Okay," Kurt said. "How are you doing? Getting enough sleep?"
"I haven't gotten enough sleep since Daisy was born," Santana huffed. "But at least I was able to have all the coffee I wanted. That's what I miss the most, I think." She watched him over her sleeping baby's head. "Why do you look like someone kicked you in the balls?"
"I do not," Kurt hurried to say, and she arched an eyebrow at him. "I'm fine, Santana."
"Well, if you want to talk, we'd better do it before your husband gets here," she insisted. "I still can't believe he agreed to come meet our son. I thought he was baby-phobic."
"There's nothing to talk about," he replied.
She snorted and then shushed the baby when it began to fuzz. "Sure. You weren't talking about fucking someone else right before I went into labor, then? Was that a contraction-induced hallucination?"
"Santana…"
"Kurt, this is serious," she said. "And you look like you're having the worst time of your life right now, so I'm guessing the affair thing isn't going so well."
"I just have some stuff to figure out, that's all," he said stubbornly. "We don't need to talk about it."
Santana almost seemed sad for a moment, like she was absorbing everything he was feeling. She sighed in defeat. "I'm too tired to argue with you right now. But if you need to talk, call me, okay? I know I'm distracted right now, but if you keep carrying this on your shoulders it's going to kill you."
"Thanks, San."
"Anytime," she said, and kissed the top of Robin's head. "Do you want to hold him?"
"God, yes," he said eagerly. Santana gently put him in his arms and Kurt pressed him to his chest, making sure to support his little head. "Oh hi there, handsome. Hi!"
He sat down on the couch so he could support him better. He softly touched the back of his tiny hand and Robin wrapped his little fingers around his own. It didn't do anything to stop the urge to cry he had felt ever since he had run into Blaine and his kids. He swallowed several times, forcing the anguish down, and succeeded, though. Small victories.
He was still there when Brittany and Daisy arrived, and he hadn't moved an inch by the time Ian arrived either, carrying a gift bag with a teddy bear inside. It was a nice gesture, Kurt decided. He smiled up at Ian as he came towards him to kiss him.
Ian sat on the arm of the couch for a moment to look down at the baby and grinned at Kurt. "You look very comfortable right now."
"He's so sweet," Kurt said.
Ian kissed the top of Kurt's head and said: "Well, don't get any weird ideas."
He laughed, like he didn't know those words cut worse than knives, like every small reminder of what Kurt couldn't have meant nothing at all.
Ian stood up and went to help Brittany in the kitchen. Kurt turned his head to the side just as the tears that he had been holding back all day started sliding down his cheeks. He pressed his lips to Robin's soft hair.
It was futile to cry. Nothing was going to change. And yet, Kurt couldn't help himself. The unhappiness that had been growing inside of him in the past few months seemed to get unmanageable.
He was in a room full of people and he felt more alone than ever.
He held the baby and tried not to hate himself – it was his fault, after all. It had been his choices that had brought him to where he was.
Robin moved in his arms, face scrunching like he, too, was going to cry, and Kurt began to sing under his breath an old lullaby his mother used to sing to him.
His voice cracked and a quiet sob made him stop before he even reached the second verse.
During their movie night, it was so much easier to pretend that nothing had ever gone wrong. Piled up together on the couch, the kids between them, Theo asleep with his head on Blaine's lap, and Lena leaning against Jack's side, it was like they had been pushed back in time – before Eddie, before Kurt, before everything got so damn complicated. As the credits began to roll on the screen, Blaine and Jack exchanged a glance and a quick smile, the kind they rarely even shared anymore.
And then Lena, speaking around a yawn, said: "Daddy, why can't we invite Kurt over for dinner?"
And Blaine got so paralyzed that it almost made every muscle in his body hurt.
Jack frowned down at their daughter. "Who's Kurt?"
"Kurt!" Lena exclaimed, like it was the most obvious thing in the world. "The one from my books!"
Jack, still frowning, looked at Blaine. "Does she have an imaginary friend?"
And maybe that would have been a temporary way out, but it wasn't going to solve anything, because Lena might bring this up again, and… god, this wasn't going to end well. It had been doomed for disaster since the very beginning.
And the thought of Kurt, which he had tried to push down, down, down the entire day suddenly brought him a pang of sadness and remorse: that look on Kurt's face today was not going to leave his memory any time soon. He had never seen him look so dejected, so downhearted. And he had been the one to make him look like that…
"He's not an imaginary friend," Blaine replied as calmly as he could. "It's Kurt Hummel, you know, the writer? We ran into him today while shopping."
That only made Jack look even more confused. "Where do you know Kurt Hummel from? Isn't he the one who wrote all those books the kids like so much?"
"The Christmas elves!" Lena exclaimed with a grin, and that only made the guilt intensify in the pit of Blaine's stomach.
"He came to my class, remember?" He said with a careful shrug. "He signed a few books for them? And we've run into each other a few times since then, so…"
That understatement of the century was the closest thing to the truth he could give him.
"He's so cool," Lena said, voice full of admiration. "We should invite him for dinner!"
Blaine wanted the floor of the living room to open up and swallow him whole. "I don't think that's possible, baby." He kissed the top of her head and desperately tried for a change of subject: "Alright, it's time for you to brush your teeth and get ready for bed. We'll go tuck you in when you're ready."
Lena pouted but after Jack's insistence that she should listen to her dad, she made her way down the hallway. Blaine followed after her, carefully carrying a sleeping Theo into his room, and then went back to the living room, where Jack was picking up the popcorn that had fallen all over the floor.
Blaine was starting to fold the blankets they had wrapped around themselves during the movie when Jack said: "I'm sorry I've been so… I don't even know how describe it. Distant, I guess? But whatever the word is for it… I'm sorry."
Blaine leaned against the couch, blankets in his arms, to look at his husband. "Jack…" he said awkwardly, because what could he say to that without admitting that he knew Jack had cheated on him? What could he say without admitting that he had found someone else too?
He allowed himself to imagine, for just a moment, that he and Jack were honest to each other, that they talked about what had happened, that Jack admitted to having Eddie and Blaine admitted to having Kurt… he imagined the mess that their lives would turn into. He imagined the divorce and the splitting of everything they owned, one of them having to leave the apartment with half their belongings, having to start over somewhere new. But most of all, he imagined having to share the kids' custody – what would that look like? Would he get to have Lena and Theo Monday to Thursday and Jack would have them the rest of the week? What would holidays and birthdays look like? He imagined getting home from work and the kids not being there, having no one to sit down to have dinner with, no toys spread all over the living room like a nuclear bomb had exploded leaving only teddy bears and Barbies as casualties.
It sounded like a nightmare.
He knew that, in some way, Jack had given Eddie up. He didn't know the details, but he was sure they weren't together anymore. All he had to do was give Kurt up as well, and maybe they could have what they had once shared, a perfect life with the perfect family…
But just the idea of never seeing Kurt again made him feel a little sick.
God, what a mess. He had no idea how they were going to fix this. Was there even a way to fix it? Or would they just pretend until one of them couldn't take the lie for another day?
Jack came towards him and pressed a kiss to his temple. "I'm trying to be better. I'm not saying I'll be the perfect father and husband like you overnight, but… I'm trying, Blaine."
If Jack had stuck a knife to his chest and twisted it around a few times, it would have hurt a little less than his words.
"I'm not perfect," Blaine said.
Jack smiled, and was about to say something when Lena screamed from her room: "I'm done!"
They both looked away. Jack nodded and said: "I'll go tuck her in."
"Okay," Blaine murmured.
Blaine focused on tidying the living room, because it was easier than thinking, even if it was really, really hard to ignore the thoughts buzzing in his head, nagging at him. He was fluffing up the cushions on the couch when a phone vibrated on the coffee table. Thinking it was his own, he picked it up.
But it was Jack's. There was a new message from Eddie waiting for him.
Blaine bit his lip and hesitated for a moment before he read it.
[From Eddie]: I'm sorry, I know you asked me not to contact you, but I miss you. I hope you're happy with the decision you made. I hope everything works out for you.
And just as he was setting the phone down on the coffee table, it buzzed again with a second message: I love you.
Blaine stared at it – at the words he and Jack hadn't told each other in he didn't even know how long. Jack had left Eddie, then. He had chosen his family over him.
He had done the right thing. Now it was Blaine's turn, wasn't it?
But nothing about not having Kurt in his life felt right. It felt so wrong it made his skin crawl.
Blaine put the phone down and closed his eyes, trying to get rid of the dizziness that had suddenly taken over him. But all he could see, engraved in his eyelids, was Kurt's smile and Kurt's eyes, and Kurt's pale skin, so soft to the touch.
He felt like an addict who had to give up a drug. He knew it was for the best, but he needed one more fix.
Just one more fix, and he would make a decision.
Kurt stared at the screen blankly, only typing something every now and then and immediately deleting it, just to give the impression that he was busy, that he wasn't just waiting for the click of the front door when Ian left for the office.
There had been anguish sitting on his chest, like a big, heavy ball that made it hard to breathe, hard to think, since that moment at Santana's. Since he had run into Blaine and the kids. It took actual, real effort not to burst into tears at random points during the day, and for the first time in his life, he was grateful that his husband was a workaholic who barely even noticed what was going on around him, who was barely home to realize Kurt was falling down a spiral he wasn't sure he could come out of.
When had his life become this?
It was the one question that kept tolling inside his head, over and over and over again. He had the answer: he remembered every choice he had made year after year, until he ended up here. They had all seemed the right choices at the time, but now… he felt like he had chosen every single wrong turn in front of him.
And yet, having the answer didn't make the question stop. But more than the seeking of a reason, it was a constant protest – why did you do this to yourself? How did you allow this to be your life? Why did you give up on everything you ever wanted?
Maybe every wrong path he had walked had just led him to Blaine, to falling in love again, to having someone in his life who made him feel so overwhelmingly whole…
But only for a fragment of a moment. Because most of the time, he felt so overwhelmingly broken.
"Alright, I have to run, I'm late for a meeting!" Ian exclaimed from the foyer. "See you tonight!"
And then he was gone, the front door closing behind him.
Kurt sat back, letting his hands fall on his lap, away from the computer, away from the pretense that he still cared enough to try to write. He didn't. He had stopped caring about everything.
When sitting still felt impossible, he stood up and began to pace around the living room. Santana had been right: he did need to talk to someone. But she was busy with their new baby, and Rachel would never understand, and Mercedes was touring in a different time zone and…
And he was scared of what his dad would say.
But whenever he was this close to falling into pieces – had he ever been this close before, though? – the one person he needed, the one person he could trust, the one person whose wisdom managed to pull him out of the shadows… was his dad.
He grabbed his phone before he could change his mind.
He bit his nail as he waited – a nasty habit he didn't approve of, but he was too far gone to care right now.
"Hey Kurt!" His father said as he picked up the phone. "How are you doing, kiddo? You just caught me about to walk out the door. Can I call you back when I get to the garage?"
"Can you…" He started, voice cracking at once. "Can you maybe go in a little later today? I need to talk to you."
He heard the sound of the keys dropping back on the side table by the door, then steps and, finally, the creaking of the old leather armchair as his father sat down. "What's going on, Kurt? You're worrying me."
Kurt took a deep breath, because otherwise he wouldn't be able to get the words out. "Remember when I was home for Christmas and you asked me if there was something wrong? Well, I lied. I'm not fine."
The sob was perfectly timed, pushing past his lips just as he finished saying that.
"Hey, hey, hey," Burt said soothingly, but with a bit of alarm, like he hadn't expected him to burst like that. "It's okay, Kurt. Just breathe."
But Kurt couldn't breathe. Everything he had been holding inside finally exploded, and now he couldn't stop crying.
"Damn, kiddo, times like this is when it gets particularly difficult to live so far away from you," Burt muttered.
"I'm sorry," Kurt managed to say. "I don't mean to… I don't mean to worry you…"
"It's a little late for that now," Burt said, and though he intended to sound sarcastic, he failed horribly. "Try to calm down a bit so we can talk. I can wait. I have all day. Take your time."
"You were going to the garage, though," Kurt pointed out.
"That doesn't matter," Burt said. "If my little boy needs me, there's nowhere else I have to be."
That got a tiny little smile from Kurt, just a fleeting one. "I'm thirty seven, dad. Not really a little boy anymore."
"You'll always be my little boy, even when you're fifty," Burt said softly.
Kurt snorted. "God, fifty. I don't even want to think about it."
Burt was silent for a moment, giving Kurt space to breathe. It was only when the crying stopped making his bones vibrate with its force that Burt tried again: "Are you going to be honest with me now?"
"Yes," Kurt said, and after one more deep breath, he finally put it out there: "I'm unhappy, dad."
It was the simplest way to explain how he felt. Two little words that encapsulated a whole world of things that had gone wrong lately.
Burt sighed heavily. "Well, that's not easy for a father to hear. It's tough, Kurt. But… why have you been feeling this way? What's going on?"
Just like it had happened with Santana at the restaurant, everything began to spill out of Kurt before he could stop himself. He didn't mention Blaine, though – he couldn't take his father's disappointment, not today, not right now. But he told him about being unsure of what he wanted to do, that he wasn't satisfied with his work life, that he was wondering if he had given up too much, if he had stopped chasing the things he had ever wanted because he was presented with ready-made options that seemed like shortcuts, that seemed more convenient. He told him about feeling disconnected from Ian, about thinking they weren't as compatible as he had once thought. He told him how it broke him that they weren't going to have children. He told him about the sadness that had nested inside of him, that choked him all day and kept him from sleeping each night.
And in everything he said, there was a Blaine-shaped hole.
"Kurt, this is…" Burt huffed, and maybe he was overwhelmed now, too. It was too much, all at once. "This is a lot, kiddo. I can't believe you've been bottling it all up all this time…"
"I couldn't talk about it," Kurt murmured. "I felt like such a failure. I feel like such a failure…"
"Kurt, you're not a failure. We all make decisions, we all make mistakes, it's part of life, son," Burt said earnestly. "The important thing is that now that you realized you aren't happy, you need to make some changes…"
"I can't," Kurt said at once. "I can't, dad. It's too late to fix this. I got it so wrong. I… I can't have what I want now."
What I want is married to someone else.
And maybe his dad was a bit more magical, a bit wiser and a bit more impressive than he already knew he was, because he clearly could hear the words Kurt couldn't say.
"There's someone else, isn't there?" He asked, and Kurt…
Kurt crumpled like a house of cards in the wind.
He cried. He cried so hard and for so long that he felt spent afterwards, and all his father could do was sit there and listen to him, murmuring little comforting nonsense that they both knew would fix nothing at all.
"Who is he, Kurt?" Burt asked at last.
"It doesn't matter," Kurt sniffed. His chest hurt from all the crying. "He's married, too, and he has such a beautiful family and I… I don't know, dad. I wish I'd known him ten years ago. I wish I could have run into him before we both made our lives with someone else. I wish… it doesn't matter."
"It does matter, kiddo. Didn't I teach you anything?" Burt said sadly. "Look, I understand things are complicated, and you clearly can't make decisions for this guy, but you can make decisions for yourself. You can try to find your own happiness. You can try to fix whatever you think doesn't work. It's never too late to start over, you know? Look at me. I met Carole when I was in my forties. We have a beautiful life together…"
"It's not the same and you know it, dad," Kurt said miserably. "You and Carole weren't with other people when you met. And… look, it's not even about that, okay? I just… I just feel…"
He quieted. He was running out of words. He didn't know how to explain it any further – not without telling his father that what he wanted was Blaine, and a life with him. Not without telling him about what they had been sharing together, all the ways in which they had been together, all the ways in which Blaine had changed everything for him.
But it wasn't just Blaine, even though he had exploded a bomb into Kurt's life when they first met.
Kurt had been unhappy long before then, he just hadn't wanted to admit it.
"All I want for you, Kurt…" Burt said slowly, and for a moment Kurt regretted having called him, because he didn't hate anything as much as he hated upsetting his father. "All I want is for you to have a life you are proud of, a life you're happy with. I'm not saying every day is going to be perfect, but when the bad days pile up… maybe it's time to look for an alternative. And I know starting over is scary as hell, but… isn't it also scary to think that if you don't do anything this will be your life forever?"
That filled Kurt with such dread that he was paralyzed for a moment, trying to imagine that. And god, it sucked. Everything sucked, no matter what.
"I don't know what to do, dad," he said, sounding like a frightened little boy.
"Well, Kurt, you can always come home, if you need a place to get away, and if you need some time. Carole and I will be happy to have you. And sometimes it helps, you know? Getting away from everything. Maybe you need a little break," he said.
Just the thought of not being in New York, of being so far away from Blaine left a bitter taste in Kurt's mouth. But he knew it might be a reasonable thing to do.
Even if everything else was a big mess right now, he was so, so glad that he could always count on his dad.
"Thank you," he whispered.
It hadn't solved anything, but this conversation had at least succeeded in untightening the knot that had been residing in his throat for way too long now.
It took a few days for them to find time to see each other. Blaine had parent-teacher meetings scheduled and their babysitter got sick, so the little moments he usually got to get away from everything were suddenly gone. He finally found a small window of time on a Wednesday afternoon, just as rainy as the day they had first kissed, and though it wasn't enough to meet at the hotel, it was enough for a cup of coffee, and Blaine was more than happy with that.
Kurt, as usual, was already there, but unlike other times, he wasn't looking at the door, waiting expectantly for him. He seemed distracted, staring out the window, lost in his thoughts, his mouth downturned into a sad little smile, like whatever he was thinking about upset him.
It wasn't the first time that Blaine looked at him and realized that Kurt wasn't happy, but it was the first time that he looked at him and understood that it was worse than he had imagined.
Kurt startled when Blaine stood next to him, like he had forgotten he was there to meet him. "Blaine, hi," he said, and even his voice was indication that something was wrong.
Frowning, Blaine cupped his face and leaned in, pressing a soft, little kiss to his lips. "Are you okay?" He asked.
Kurt smiled. Or tried to, at least. It was a poor imitation of his bright, beautiful smiles, the ones that made his blue eyes light up, the ones that Blaine adored. "Yeah, sure. How are you?"
Blaine went to sit across the table from him, still frowning, studying him carefully. "Kurt, you don't look okay."
Kurt shrugged. "It'll pass. It's nothing," he said, trying to sound unconcerned. "So you've been having a crazy week, huh? Is it getting better now?"
Blaine didn't reply. There were dark marks under Kurt's eyes, like he hadn't slept well in a while, and they seemed irritated, like he had been crying. It was obvious he had tried to hide it, but there was no moisturizing routine that could change the fact that he looked like he was on the verge of crumbling down.
Blaine touched the back of his hand, gently. "Why won't you talk to me?"
Kurt's fake smile wobbled, like he was holding back a sob. "Blaine, it's…"
"Don't say it's fine," Blaine interrupted, and now Kurt's smile did fall. "What's wrong, sweetheart?"
And the pet name seemed to finish him off.
Kurt hid his face in his hands for a second, clearly not wanting to cause a scene. He stopped pretending and simply looked at Blaine like everything he held dear in this world had vanished without a trace. "I'm sorry."
Blaine held his breath. Oh god, they were breaking up, weren't they? His heart squeezed painfully in his chest. "Kurt…" He started, as if the mere whisper of his name would stop what was going to come next.
"I never should have written that stupid story for the kids," Kurt said then, and Blaine froze for a second, confused. "And I never should have given it to you. It was stupid of me to do that. Of course you couldn't give it to them. What the hell was I thinking?"
"Oh, Kurt…" Blaine murmured sadly. Of course. Of course he was upset about that. Blaine should have talked to him instead of letting him believe the kids had his story. "I'm sorry that I couldn't give it to them. I really wanted to, it's just…"
"I understand," Kurt interrupted, wiping his tears away quickly. "Like I said, it was stupid."
"It wasn't stupid. And I still have it. Maybe one day I can…" But Blaine stopped. He didn't want to promise something he wouldn't be able to fulfill.
"Don't," Kurt shook his head. "It was creepy of me to do that. And stupid and…"
"Kurt, hey, hey," Blaine stood up and pulled his chair towards the other side of the table, so he could sit next to him. He wrapped an arm around him. "Come on, stop saying that, please. You're not stupid. And it was not creepy. You were very sweet, Kurt. And I know they would have loved your story, but I… I was worried about Lena not being able to keep her mouth shut about it, and telling Jack, and… how would I explain it to him?"
Kurt smiled sadly at him. "I know. Don't worry about it."
"But I don't want you to be so upset about this," Blaine retorted. "I wish there was something I could do…"
Kurt cupped his face, thumb swiping over his cheekbone lovingly. "Don't worry about it."
Blaine kept frowning, because something didn't sit right with him. He had the feeling that it wasn't only about the manuscript. There was something else that bothered him. There was something else that made him look this sad and broken.
And Blaine wanted to fix the world for him – wanted to erase every single thing that made him miserable, wanted to give him nothing but reasons to smile. But he wasn't sure how to do that.
He pulled him closer and held him, letting Kurt rest his head on his shoulder. He rubbed his back comfortingly.
"What else is going on, Kurt?" He whispered the question into his hair.
Kurt held him back. His fingers twitched on the back of Blaine's sweater, tugging slightly, like he was trying to bring him even closer, like he wanted to hold on tight enough that they wouldn't be able to pull apart.
Everything felt so out of balance. What had started as a way to feel better about themselves and about each other was suddenly getting out of hand, turning into something they couldn't quite handle, something they couldn't quite deal with.
And Blaine knew what the solution was, what the inevitable ending was, but he wasn't brave enough to reach it. He wasn't brave enough to give this up.
"Just stay right here, okay?" Kurt murmured brokenly, burrowing closer still, and Blaine wasn't sure what he meant.
Did he mean that Blaine should just hold him a little longer? Or did he mean that he wanted him to stay forever?
Not for the first time since they had met, Blaine wished he hadn't promised his forever to someone else.
Hold my hand just like you used to do
I'm not leaving, I'm not leaving
Throw it up, baby you're all mixed up
I'm not leaving, I'm not leaving
Hope you guys liked it! See you next week for more!
L.-