The cab driver drops me off at the emergency room. I am both pleased and dreadful because it smells like curry in his cab, but dreadful because this means I cant escape seeing Blaine anymore. I want to turn back and run for as far as my lanky legs can carry me, but I know that if I dont do this now, I dont think Ill ever have the chance to again.

I hate hospitals. Theres always this particular smell, like paper glue mixed with Clorox. It smells too clean, but mostly because hospitals remind me of the few weeks before my mother passed away and how my father and I spent days torn between hoping and letting go. Eventually we didnt have the luxury of two options. I walk across the emergency room as quickly as I can, not fixating my eyes on anything but through mere glances, I did see blood and wounds and wonder how Blaine can actively choose a career that sets him in such a horrifying environment. I approach the Patient Inquiry counter where a young woman in her late twenties sits behind it, swamped and disgruntled looking as she types at lightning speed into her computer whilst talking to a microphone attached to her ear. I tentatively approach her. She irritably glances at me, as if Im disrupting her entire process.

"Im looking for a doctor-"

"Youve certainly come to the right place," she remarks. I ignore her sarcasm, too nervous to argue with my own.

"Blaine Anderson," I say. She frowns at me, then its as if a light bulb flickered in that busy mind of hers. "Doctor Anderson? Take a seat, Ill get him out here."

I was really hoping he was out, or at lunch - or in some intense long surgery that eats up into his whole day that my hands are tied and I have to go home but the odds are against me. I take a seat among the people preoccupied with their worrying thoughts. A woman sits, huddled at a corner next to the vending machine with a napkin clasp in her fingers wiping away her tears. I see her trembling. In this room, I think my worry is the least monumental. I keep my head low and try to blend with this crowd. I dont even know how I am going to begin talking to Blaine.

Where do we start with our past? How are we supposed to shut this door?

It feels like an eternity has gone by, but eventually I hear the irritable woman telling Doctor Anderson that somebody is looking for him. I take a deep breath and look up to find Blaine simultaneously locking his eyes with mine. His eyebrow cocks upward slightly.

"Kurt?" he says, as if Im the last person he was expecting. He is wearing those navy scrubs, the kind doctors use in Greys Anatomy, with a stethoscope coiled around his neck. I dont think he has ever looked more - suited. He strides towards me as I get to my feet. "What are you doing here? Is everything alright?" he ask. The concern in his voice still has that puddle effect with me and I hate myself for being so weak.

"Im fine. Everythings fine," I say. Blaine frowns, but I know he must be so curious - or nervous. I doubt hes nervous because if he is, hes doing a damn good job at hiding it. Im as subtle as the woman crying in the corner. "Are you busy?" He bites his lower lip and avid his eyes from me. I feel a pang in my heart; but also relief.

"Theres a kid who swallowed an Ironman action figure gun that might need me, but I can get someone to cover me if you want," he says. I am inclined to give the unfortunate kid more priority, but a part of me knows I have to do this now.

"Sure," I reluctantly say. "Unless Ironman needs it back," I tell him, hoping some humour would ease me if not him. He pulls a weak smirk before he turns around to the irritated girl and tells her to get some another doctor by the name of doctor Williams to cover for him. When he turns back to me, I gulp hard at how real this is going to be.

Its still so surreal to me how Ive managed to keep away from Blaine for 7 whole years, and then suddenly now its like no time has gone by at all and Im picking him up from his workplace to meet him for dinner. It seems so normal, but it isnt. I follow him through the emergency room again, where he makes short pit stops to check on patients. Even this feels surreal - that Blaine is a doctor. The whole situation is definitely number 1 on my most awkward and weird moments. We head out of the hospital where night time is slowly starting to creep out, the sky dimming away. Blaine and I walk in silence, towards a bench that faces a large field where a couple of elder ladies are doing some form of Zumba dance.

"This is where I usually eat lunch - when I can, at least," he tells me as he takes a seat, scrubs and all, and pulls out a sandwich wrapped in tinfoil from his pocket. He gnaws into it before I even take my seat. "Do you want to split this sandwich?" he ask. Only then do I realize that Im famished too, but I decline because any food in my system at all would only find its way back up. "Any word on Rachel?" he ask.

"Shes actually talking with Finn right now," I tell him and garners his attention, curiosity riddled in his beautiful eyes. "She came to my apartment today and I managed to get her to talk to Finn."

"Thats great then. Howd you manage that?" he ask. I can tell that hes still finding the part of this story that explains my sudden visit, but doesnt blatantly ask which makes it worst - as if he still cares to not offend me or something.

"Well, I agreed that if she talks to Finn and try to work their differences, Id come here and talk to you," I tell him. Blaine frowns, deep creases on his forehead. "About our past."
I hear him exasperate and wonder if he wants to relive this at all. Ive been too nervous wanting to talk to him, scared of what he reveals that I never stopped to wonder if he wants to reveal anything at all. This is how our relationship and everything that entailed went to destruction, because I was too focused on how I felt and what I want that I never considered what Blaine wanted. I havent changed and the thought depresses me.

"Why cant you just let it go?" he ask, wearing the same irritable intonation the girl at the desk. A sizeable lump forms in my throat and for a brief second, I want to agree, but then I realize that I cant play this game anymore - this game where I pretend he doesnt affect every fibre of my being.

"I cant because we never found closure," I say. "I cant let it go because I left us hanging - we left us hanging. Ive thought about you every single day since we broke up and I cant do this anymore. I need to release you once and for all but the only way for me to do that is for you to tell me what happened with us." He doesnt say anything, just plays with the wrapper of his sandwich. I hope to god I hadnt sound desperate, but at this point, even that I dont want to consider anymore.

"Thats not what you need to know for closure," he says, placing his sandwich next to himself and tilting enough so he can look at me straight in the eyes. "Telling you how our relationship ended 7 years ago wont help you let me go. It does no good. We both know I cheated - I made the decision to cheat and to break what he had. That was the choice I made and thats what ended us, its that plain and simple. What matters is the present - our right now. We broke up 7 years ago, so the reason you cant let me go isnt because of our past, its how you still have feelings for me."

My mouth goes dry, as if I havent been allowed a sip of water since morning. My heart races as Blaine stares right into me, dismantling me and taking apart my heart to search for what he thinks is there. Even I dont know my feelings anymore, captivated by him but hating him all by the same token. Have I been wrong all this time? Do I still love Blaine? The prospect is possible, but its insane to think how you can hate someone as much as you love them. Blaine stares at me for a long time, I dont know for how long exactly but the sky is dark now.

"It wasnt your fault," he tells me, his voice is soft and calming, like warm tea on a cold day. "I know I said what I said, but I wasnt thinking and Im sorry. I dont know how else I can apologize and take the guilt from you because I know its not right - pinning the blame of suicide onto someone. Its messed up and I should have known better and Im truly, truly sorry," he says, his voice deflating to an urgent whisper as he firmly grips my hand. "I was at a very low point in my life then having lost you, and then kicked out of Northwestern in my first semester. I was an all rounded mess and I couldnt take it so I took a little more cough mixture than I should but my dad found me in time to rush me to the emergency room. My brother tried calling you, but I didnt want to. I never wanted you to know about it because I thought it was unfair for me to pull you back when youve gone so far with your life. But Cooper wanted me to have friends who could take care of me when i wanted to come to the city, so he called Rachel and told her about it and she and Finn helped me get my life back on track."

I cant describe this feeling, like I am a naive child still believing in the existence of Santa and unicorns. "I never needed to be protected!" I say, louder than I had planned. I am so sick of people hiding things from me, as if my heart is this fragile piece glass that needs to be handled with care. "Saying it was unfair is an invalid reason - and a load of bull. You knew God damn well that you should have told me - about all of this! Its like you didnt even care enough, like I wasnt prominent in your life-"

"Prominent? I didnt tell you because you werent mine anymore!" he yells, silencing me instantly. "You made it very clear that you wanted nothing to do with me; how the hell was I supposed to know that that was code for tell me everything? Then what about you? Taking off and being MIA for 2 weeks? If that was your punishment for me then Im tell you, Kurt, it was a damn good one."

"I took off because you hurt me! That is completely different! You tried to kill yourself!" I scream, hoarse and at the brink of imploding. "Dont you hear how twisted that sounds? I almost lost you for real and I never knew about it! How can you justify yourself with the fact that we werent together? You almost died!"

I dont fight when my tears start flowing uncontrollably, my voice failing on itself and I convulse, my body trembling and curling in on itself as I sob harder and harder, my face buried in between my forearms. The reality sets in, how I almost lost Blaine. Ive been told that you never know how much something means to you until its taken away. Ive experienced that share when I lost my mother, now the nightmare has returned and is closing in on me - I almost lost Blaine, I pushed him so far off the edge he almost jumped and I was never there to reel him back. I never made him feel like I was an outlet he could retreat to - I destroyed us.

My body is shaking, trembling and quivering as I try to suppress my sobs. Im mad at myself, Im screaming inside. I try to tell myself that none of this is my fault - it isnt. Blaine said so himself, but how far can I believe in pretexts anymore? Then I feel Blaines hands pulling my arms away, uncovering my broken face, stained with tears of his past. "Please dont do this," he whispers to me, crouched in front of me, eyes weary and as broken as me like the sunset of a morose movie.

"I dont want to fight with you anymore, Kurt. Im tired, and so are you. You cant move on if you keep blaming yourself, and blaming me for the things that happened. It already happened. Im sorry - for everything that I did that contributed to ending us. If I could take it all back, I would, but I cant because its our past. Its history. Its always going to be there, but you cant dwell on it otherwise youre never going to move on."

"So how do I forget it and move on?" I ask, through desperate muffled sobs that seem to take a life of its own the harder I try to fight it.

"You cant forget it. You just have to accept that that is our past," Blaine tells me, his hands gently placed on my knees, this thumbs drawing circles on my pants. "It wasnt your fault."
My heart is slowly opening up, the rapid beating now slowing down to a human pace. My tears are still streaming like a broken dam but a part of me is slowly starting to come to terms with this new form of closure. Blaine is right, you cant forget about your past. Its like sweeping dust under the rug, but you can accept it. In the domestic cleaning metaphor, you just have to clean it up. I feel my muscles gradually begin to relax, the oxygen finding its residence again. I look up to Blaine, eyes wet and his image blurry.

"Im sorry I made you feel like I couldnt wait to get away," I manage the words out. He stops his calming gestures on my knee and freezes in his place, taken aback as if he wasnt expecting this from me. "Im sorry I made you feel obsolete because trust me, Blaine, to this day, my heart still very much belongs to you. But I want it back. I want to feel whole again, I want to live without ever wondering what ever happened to us. Im sorry for everything that I did to you in my wake. I should never have left and made you feel like you couldnt - come to me."

He doesnt say a word, his eyes are glued to me, trying to comprehend my words. For a while, I think he wants to flip out and start blaming world hunger on me but he doesnt. He takes my hand and places chaste kisses on the under of my palms.

"Thank you," is all he manages, and I see the fluorescent street lamps reflecting itself on the stains of tears hanging loosely off of his lower eyelid. "You dont know how much I regret hurting you, Kurt, but we both need this. To be out of this funk."

For the first time in what has felt like forever, I feel the weights of my world lifting off my shoulders. I forgot how liberation taste like, now I remember how delightful it is. I pull him to his feet and I embrace him, burying my face into the crook of his neck and remembering how he warm he feels in my arms. I once felt the bitterness in my heart, how I hate how he brings me to submission every time he lays a finger on me. I dont feel that way, all I feel is his warmth - like the boy I met at the bottom of my steps. I remember that person and I dont hate myself because his chapter in my life has concluded. Now he exist as a reminder of a sweet memory in my life - a reminder of what love is. There is no venom clouding my judgement, or scaring me into seclusion. All I feel is light.

"This means you wont be cracking my nose in ball games anymore, right?" he says to me and I laugh, planting a kiss onto his temple.