“Kurt, it's going to be wonderful. Everyone's going to be there. Mike and Tina and”—Blaine looked up from buttoning his shirt—“Kurt, what are you wearing?” Blaine asked, laughing a bit at Kurt still in his pajamas.

“Im not going,” Kurt told Blaine simply with a shrug, barely looking up from where he was scrawling across a page in his journal on their bed.

“Kurt,” Blaine spoke around a laugh, disbelieving.

“Not tonight,” he said, glancing up from his book with a sad smile.

“Why?”

The party was for him, and Kurt usually seemed to enjoy them. Enough.

“I'm just not feeling up to it. I'm just going to stay home. But by all means, go. You are the guest of honor, after all.”

“You're just going to stay home and write?”

He hadn't meant it to come out like that. The word to have so much malice. It was just that Kurt had been doing less with Blaine. Less singing and dancing together. Less cooking together. Less sex. Blaine was a little frazzled by it all, he had to admit, but he hadn't pointed it out to Kurt. But by the way Kurt's eyebrows had rose, Blaine knew he had struck a nerve.

Kurt's hand stilled mid-word and he hastily marked his page and set the journal aside, now giving Blaine his undivided attention.

“Kurt, be honest with me, are you even trying with your auditions anymore?”

“How can you ask me that? I try so hard,” Kurt brokenly replied. “I've been trying.”

“What I mean to say is, with all this new time dedicated to your stories, or whatever, that takes time away from finding a new audition song.”

Kurt straightened his posture. “You think I need a new audition song?”

“Well, songs. It wouldn't hurt. You have used the same one at these past five auditions,” Blaine pointed out.

“What exactly are you saying?” Kurt wondered, his voice low. Blaine could tell he was getting irritated.

“I'm just saying that. That's it. That's all. Nothing more,” Blaine defended.

“Really? Because it sounds like you're trying to suggest… Well, it's fine. Because I've decided. I think I've had this decided for a while now,” Kurt hummed out. “I'm through with performing.”

Blaine swallowed. “Kurt.”

“I am. I'm tired of trying. I'm not good enough. But, Blaine, when I write, I feel more wonderful than I have in a while,” Kurt admitted, smiling. “You understand, right?”

“No. Kurt.” Blaine's hand flew up to his hairline, resting there in disbelief at his husband's words. “I can't let you give up your dream.”

“I'm not giving up a dream, just… changing it.” Kurt's smile fell. “Understand?”

“No. I could never understand. Performing is everything.”

“Not for me,” Kurt replied. “Anymore.”

“But you could really do this. I know you can.” Blaine smiled. “And if you come to the party—”

“I'm not going.”

“—then we can try talking to Will again—”

“I'm not going,” Kurt repeated, his voice rising along with his stance.

“Just—Listen to me, Kurt—”

“I am, but you're not listening to me!”

Blaine watched Kurt, the way his chest was rising and falling and the way his eyes shown with hurt. Hurt about other things and much more than he was letting on. Kurt swallowed, taking a small step towards Blaine only to sigh and take his place back on the mattress.

“I believe in you so much. Why cant you do the same for me?” Kurt brokenly asked.

Blaine sighed, sitting next to Kurt. He didn't understand. They were disjointed now. So different. And he couldn't help but feel like it was all his fault.

“Why cant you just be happy for me?” Blaine demanded to know, looking at Kurt who turned to him, looking tired and defeated.

“I am. I have been. Just not tonight.”

“You cant just pick when you want to love me, you know,” Blaine said, feeling anxious. He could feel Kurt pulling away as each day passed, and tonight the tether unwound too much for Blaine's liking.

“Why not? You do it all the time,” Kurt muttered.

“What?” Blaine sharply asked.

“Nothing. Go to your thing. Your party,” he corrected. “I'll stay here. It's decided.”

“No. Get dressed, Kurt. Get dressed and we'll go and we'll dance and we'll be happy. Dont we deserve to be happy, Kurt?”

“Yes,” Kurt slowly replied, trying to remain calm when he noticed how broken Blaine looked. “I just dont know if thats possible. Anymore.”

“Whats that supposed to mean?” Blaine challenged, angry again.

“I dont know, you tell me!” Kurt cried out, frustrated.

Kurt ran a hand over his face and breathed deep, feeling his frustration melt into sadness. He tightly shut his eyes and took a few staggering breaths before meeting Blaine's eyes again.

“Blaine.” Kurt took a shaky breath. “I haven't been happy for… I'm not sure how long.”

Blaine stared at Kurt, his mouth falling open and his eyes becoming large.

This was not his fault. This wasn't his fault. Kurt just didn't understand. He was messing them up. He wasn't even trying anymore. Or maybe he was. Trying to ruin things. Them. At least, it seemed like it. A part of him wanted it to be true. At least that would be Kurt giving some sort of effort, instead of remaining indifferent about the matter. About them.

“Well,” Blaine murmured slowly, “maybe if you would stop focusing on your writing—”

“I like writing. Its the only thing that helps anymore.”

Blaine's hands fisted the comforter before he rose from the bed. “Can I not be enough?”

“You could be, but youre never here,” Kurt retorted.

“Im sorry that I'm busy! I'm sorry I'm successful! I'm sorry I'm still trying to be happy! I'm still trying—”

“You don't have to try for anything anymore! You really have made it, Blaine, haven't you? You really do have it all.  You really have made it! You and your shows and parties and friends—All of your ‘friends'—”

“I will not fail so you can be comfortable, Kurt!” Blaine interjected angrily. “I will not lose because you cant win.”

Blaine swallowed around staggered breaths, turning to face Kurt. He was met with the image of Kurt holding back tears, his jaw clenched and eyes blinking.

“Kurt,” he whispered. “Kurt, I didnt—”

“No. You did.” Kurt took in a wavering breath, trying to keep his voice even. “I think that I... Im going to go back to Ohio for a while. To think. To write. To breathe. My dad could use my help in the shop anyway. But you? You enjoy your party.”

Kurt turned on his heel, leaving to lock himself in the bathroom until he heard Blaine leave no doubt. Blaine had become accustomed to their fights ending that way.

“Kurt,” Blaine whispered, hating himself and all he had said when Kurt ignored him, firmly shutting the bedroom door behind him. “Kurt!”