---

It’s seven days before Blaine is ready to take Amelia again, seven days before he calls. Kurt’s heart is in his throat through the entire call. It’s short, and stilted, and awkward, and it’s mostly his fault - he just doesn’t know what to say.

He still doesn’t, as he grips Amelia’s hand too tight and knocks three times on Blaine’s door.� “Hi Papa!” Amelia squeals as it opens, letting go of Kurt and throwing herself at him. He scoops her up in his arms without missing a beat, swinging her in a circle as she giggles.

“How’s my beautiful baby girl?” He presses a kiss to her cheek, gathering her close and hugging her tight.

“Good. I missed you.”

“I missed you too. Come on in, you two.” He looks at Kurt for the first time since they arrived, and it makes Kurt’s breath catch for some stupid reason. He offers a smile and beckons Kurt in, and not knowing what else to do, he follows.

“Why don’t you go put your stuff in your room? I got it nice and cleaned up for you, go see.” Blaine sets her down, and she grabs her backpack from where she left it on the floor before darting off down the short hallway.

Kurt avoids looking at Blaine too much by looking around the room. If Blaine cleaned Amelia’s room then he must have been on a cleaning frenzy, because the place is practically spotless, compared to the last time Kurt was here. It seems like a lifetime ago now, and the man before him is a completely different person than the one he knew. Of course, no matter how he tries, he always finds himself seeking out Blaine, only to find that he’s staring back, so intent and intense that Kurt shivers.

“The place looks great,” Kurt says, because he doesn’t know what else to say. He hadn’t realized that it would be like this, seeing Blaine again. That he would feel so… embarrassed.

“Thanks. I’m sorry it took so long. I just wanted it to be perfect, you know? I wanted her to have a good place to come home to.”

“I’m sure she’ll love it. She loves you, so she’ll love anything you do for her.”

“You say that like she doesn’t love you just as much.” Kurt just shrugs, and Blaine looks at him incredulously. “Kurt, come on, you don’t give yourself enough credit. You’re amazing.”

“Thank you.” He doesn’t quite believe it, but it’s good to hear. He starts wandering just because there’s nothing else to do, absently letting his fingers trail over the back of Blaine’s couch (brown leather, a suspicious old stain on one cushion), the smooth glass top of the coffee table, as he looks around the apartment that he never bothered to explore before. There’s a framed photograph in black and white on the table. When Kurt leans in to look at it, he recognizes the print as one that Rachel took, just a few days after Amelia was born. It’s the two of them, lying in bed, Kurt’s eyes closed and his lips slightly parted as he sleeps on Blaine’s shoulder. Amelia is bundled up with blankets, a warm little cap on her head, asleep in Blaine’s arms while he lies awake and watches her. Kurt exhales shakily and makes himself look away.

Blaine is still watching, and Kurt doesn’t know how to handle it. Luckily, he doesn’t have to think about it much longer, because Blaine finally speaks up. “How are you doing?”

“I’m… dealing,” Kurt answers, which is not what he’d meant to say at all. He’d meant to say that he’s good, great even, just as great as he was when Blaine was still home. He’d meant to say that Blaine leaving doesn’t change anything, that it doesn’t matter, that he’s perfectly fine without him. That he doesn’t need him. “It’s fine, I’m, you know. Fine.”

And he is, for the most part. Kurt Hummel doesn’t wallow. He can pout, and he can dwell, and he will occasionally indulge in a good mope, but he never allows himself to wallow. He keeps himself busy every second so that he doesn’t have time to think about how Blaine not calling him for a week is just confirmation that Blaine would really rather be out of his life.

“How are you?” Kurt answers when Blaine’s only response is to nod. “You look good. Sober.”

Blaine nods again, smiling proudly. Kurt can’t remember smiles coming to his face that easily a week ago. Still, there’s something in his eyes, something not quite right that Kurt doesn’t know how to interpret. “Yeah, yeah, I am. Sober, I mean. Still tempted sometimes, but… alcohol doesn’t mix well with my medication. So that’s sort of a good motivation.”

“Are you sleeping alright?”

“Sometimes. Not really. It’s okay.”

“Blaine.”

“What? Stop fussing. I’m fine.”

Kurt bites his lip and looks down at his boots. “I… I really hope that you can be happier here. You deserve to be happy.” He doesn’t look up, hoping that keeping his head down will hide how stupidly upset he feels. And it is stupid. He does want Blaine to be happy. So why can’t he be happy for him?

It doesn’t work. “What’s wrong?” Blaine asks softly.

“Nothing! God, nothing’s wrong. I’m being dumb.” He shakes his head. “I just - it’s been lonely. Without you. It’s nothing.”

“I’m sorry -“

“Don’t apologize for doing what you needed to do. Don’t you dare.”

The apartment is silent. Kurt wonders why Amelia isn’t back yet - probably listening though the door. Finally, Blaine speaks up again, blurting out, “I miss you, too.”

“…Really?”

“Yeah. So let’s not be strangers, okay? I won’t go that long without calling again. I didn’t even mean to, honestly, it’s just - settling in, you know? I needed some time.”

“God, will you stop apologizing?” In a moment of daring, he steps forward, putting a hand on Blaine’s shoulder. “It’s okay. You take all the time you need. And when you need me, I’ll be there. Aren’t I always?” His chest aches when he smiles.

Blaine nods, Adam’s apple bobbing up and down. “You are,” he says, sounding a little choked. He tries his best to smile back. “And you look like you need a hug.”

That makes Kurt burst into laughter, for some reason, but he lets Blaine wrap his arms around him. Blaine is the best hugger Kurt has ever known. He gives those full-body hugs that warm you up from head to toe, make you feel safe and wanted and loved. He hadn’t known how much he needed that, this week, until right now.

“As long as you’re happy,” Kurt mumbles, nuzzling his cheek into the soft fabric of Blaine’s cashmere sweater. He wonders if it would be creepy to breathe in deep and inhale the smell of Blaine’s cologne. Probably. “As long as you’re happy, then I’m okay.”

Blaine sighs and steps back and letting his hands linger on Kurt’s waist for a moment. For a split second, Kurt sees - or imagines - Blaine staring at his lips, but if it happened at all, it’s over in the blink of an eye.

Then Amelia is there, tugging on Kurt’s hand and dragging him off to show him her room, and he and Blaine don’t really have time to talk after that because Amelia is talking too much for all of them. She has to introduce him to all of her stuffed animals, and show him every inch of her room. After the fit she’d thrown when Blaine first left, it’s a relief to see that she does like it here after all - he doesn’t want her to hate her other home.

Blaine watches the two of them from the doorway, and all the while Kurt is painfully aware of Blaine’s eyes on him.

When Amelia finally finishes her very thorough tour, he glances at the clock at winces. He had planned to be home half an hour ago, but as much as he hates that Blaine lives here now, hates the thought of this place, he doesn’t want to leave his family behind here.

For weeks after the breakup, Kurt had barely been able to stand being in his own apartment, especially not their bedroom. Everywhere he looked, Blaine was there, Blaine was completely a part of him, and he’d hated it as much as he wanted to hold onto it. Rachel’s advice had been to take everything that made him think of Blaine and put it in a box, and hide it in the back of his closet and forget about it. He hadn’t done it because there wasn’t a single thing he owned that didn’t remind him of his husband.

It’s the same now. He doesn’t want to go back to an empty house. There are holes everywhere where Blaine had quietly slipped between the cracks of Kurt’s life and then just - took it all away. He’d been worrying about Blaine sleeping but he hadn’t expected the change to affect himself, too. His sheets and pillowcase, they both smell like Blaine, and he hadn’t even noticed until he was gone. The couch hasn’t turned out to be a very good substitute for his bed; he has a near-permanent crick in his neck to show for it.

He gives his daughter a hug and a kiss, promising to call her and wish her good night, and then she’s distracted by her room again and forgets about both her parents. Blaine sees him to the door, and suddenly he can’t make himself step out the door. He just stands there, not sure what to do, feeling like an idiot.

“So,” he says, and has no idea what to say after that. He feels his face heat up.

“Come to dinner with me,” Blaine blurts out, and then it’s his turn to blush. Kurt blinks. “Um. I mean, would you like to? Have dinner? With me? This Friday? I already asked Rachel to babysit.”

He’s not sure what that last bit has to do with anything, and has to turn it over in his brain a few times before oh. Dinner with Blaine plus Amelia at Rachel’s equals dinner with Blaine alone.

Not a date, he had tells himself, but still.

“Dine in or go out?” He asks, feeling a little overwhelmed.

“I’ll take you out if you want, but I’d vote for in… my budget is a little short at the moment, I’m afraid.” Blaine rubs the back of his flushed neck with his hand, face still red, but Kurt likes the idea of staying in better anyway.

“I’ll bring a salad.” Kurt grins, a real smile for the first time all day. “I dine at eight.”

“Of course.” Blaine claps his hands, looking delighted - and that’s a word Kurt never thought he could describe Blaine with again, delighted. “Perfect. Awesome. It’s a date.”

Kurt waits a beat, but Blaine doesn’t go on, doesn’t backpedal and stammer over “Um, not a date date, you know what I mean”. He just leaves it there.

A date. Kurt goes from overwhelmed to giddy.

He drives home with butterflies in his stomach, counting the hours until eight o’clock on Friday night, but despite his excitement, he can’t help but think of the look that was on Blaine’s face the entire time Kurt was there. Yes, he had smiled, or his mouth had, but it had never once reached his eyes.

There was still something wrong, and Kurt needed to know what.

---

Blaine is dressed, shaved, and groomed to perfection - it doesn’t matter how many terrible states Kurt has seen him in, he still likes to look nice for Kurt. Kurt cares about things like that. Beauty makes him happy, and well, Blaine likes to see him happy. So he wears that sweater that brings out the green in his eyes, a crisp button up underneath it, and one of his more discreet bowties that he hasn’t gotten out in years. He gels his hair - not the helmet he’d had in highschool, Kurt had finally broken him of that - and it makes him look years younger. He looks good. Dinner is in the oven, the apartment is clean, and the most recent text on his phone says ‘On my way, need me to pick up anything?’ with a cheery little smiley face that he can’t help but grin back at.

Everything is perfect, so why is he so nervous?

It’ll be the first time he’s spent time alone with Kurt in two weeks, and he doesn’t really know what to expect. Or even what his intentions are. He just knows that he misses Kurt, but that thought comes with a twinge of guilt, too. He’s so clingy, even now. He shouldn’t be. He should be better.

Blaine absently picks at the scabs on his palms, scabs over top of pink scars.

He’s not getting any better.

The doorbell rings, startling him. He glances at his reflection in the window. There’s a smear of marinara sauce on his cheek that has somehow appeared in the last ten minutes since he checked his reflection. He grabs a napkin and rubs at the spot before he takes a deep breath and goes to the door.

“Hey!” He says, plastering on a grin. Kurt looks perfect in a slim, thigh-length white sweater crisscrossed with various zippers and buttons that probably don’t have any use, and tightly laced boots. His hair is tall and artfully tousled, and he puts Blaine’s simple ensemble to shame. He’s always done that.

Kurt grins back and holds up the covered bowl in his hands.� “Salad, as promised! I’m starving, by the way.”

Blaine acts on impulse, pulling Kurt into a quick, friendly hug. Friendly, he tells himself, even though all he wants is to kiss him like he should have weeks ago. That’s all it is, because they’re friends. Friends hug all the time.

“You look beautiful,” Blaine hears himself say as he steps back, and then shuts his eyes, face heating up.

Friends don’t say that.

Kurt blinks up at him. “Oh,” he says weakly, and then clears his throat. “Smells delicious in here, need help with anything?”

“No, the lasagna is already in the oven, should only take another minute.” He doesn’t admit that he’d tried to time this perfectly to avoid too many awkward silences. “Is lasagna okay? I guess I should have asked -“

“Lasagna is perfect,” Kurt assures him. “Oh, you have…” he points to his own cheek, and Blaine rolls his eyes and rubs at the smear of sauce he’d still managed to miss. Just great.

Kurt hands him the bowl of salad, which Blaine takes and sets in the center of the coffee table. He hears Kurt’s breath catch. He’d laid two cushions on the floor on either side of the short table, and set it with his best dishes (best in that they aren’t paper plates, which is what he usually goes with when he doesn’t get take-out.) He’d even taken a glass and put a single flower in a glass of water and set it in the middle to complete the look, but decided to stop just short of candles. Even this is probably too heavy-handed. When he glances back, Kurt’s eyes are wide as he stares the table.

Blaine blushes again, shifting back and forth uncomfortably. “I don’t have a real table,” he mumbles. “Is it too much? It’s too much.”

“It’s perfect,” Kurt says softly. “You… you didn’t have to put in all this effort just for me.”

“Of course I did.” If anyone deserves a little effort it’s Kurt, but then, Kurt should get way more than this.

“Blaine…” Kurt trails off. Blaine lifts his eyes to meet Kurt’s, and wonders if he could get away with doing nothing but stare into Kurt’s eyes for the rest of his life. There are still so many colors he hasn’t gotten to name yet.

What am I doing here? Blaine wonders. What does he think this is going to accomplish? It’s still not enough. Nothing he does will be enough.

A shrill beeping makes Kurt jump, and Blaine yells, “Shit, fucking fuck,” before running to the kitchen, waving his hands at the smoke detector as the smell of burning food fills the room. “I’m so sorry, this fucking oven, I swear to god…”

In the end it’s not as bad as it sounded or smelled, the edges are just a little blackened. Blaine still can’t stop apologizing, until Kurt laughs and says, “Blaine, honey, it’s really not a big deal,” to which Blaine blushes and stares down at his plate. They eat around the black parts, and the lasagna still tastes fine, if the way Kurt raves about it is anything to go by. After a while, they fall into silence except for the sound of chewing until their plates are clean.

Kurt wipes his mouth delicately on his napkin and sets his silverware on his plate. “So,” he asks softly, “how are you doing, Blaine?”

Blaine freezes with his fork halfway to his mouth. He doesn’t have an answer. Not a satisfactory one. He sets the fork down, unable to meet Kurt’s eyes. “It’s… that’s not an easy question to answer,” he says carefully.

“I don’t need an easy answer. You know you can still talk to me, right? If you want to.”

“It’s hard… being alone, it’s… easy to let the bad thoughts get to you. But I’m trying. And you know, I’m sure it’ll be good. Eventually.” He scratches at his palm. Eventually can’t come soon enough.

“Are you happy?” Kurt asks after a moment of silence.

How that, that one simple question, can make Blaine feel like he’s falling apart. No, he thinks, clenching his hands into fists, unable to speak. Of course I’m not, I’m not happy, why can’t I just be happy already, I hate this, I hate it, I hate -

“Blaine?” Kurt sounds worried. “Are you okay?”

He can’t answer, doesn’t know what he would say if he could, he would probably just end up crying anyway so he shakes his head and stays silent. He’s only half-aware of the beginnings of sharp pain in his hands, but he doesn’t try to stop it.

“Oh god, you’re not okay.” Kurt’s voice sounds like it’s coming from far away, even when he’s suddenly sitting close. Blaine hears a sound escape him, tiny and pathetic. Kurt’s hands close around his fists, his fingers so gentle, rubbing and massaging at Blaine’s stiff hands. “Don’t, honey, please, don’t,” he begs, sounds close to tears and that makes it even worse. I’m sorry, Blaine wants to say, but all that comes out is a sob.

Panic attack, a distant part of his mind informs him, cold and clinical. He doesn’t know why he’s panicking. He doesn’t understand why this is still happening to him, why he has to keep making Kurt deal with this. Why he can’t just be okay.

His fists start to uncurl under Kurt’s ministrations, and he’s vaguely relieved to see that he hadn’t managed to break the skin again. “Can you talk to me?” Kurt asks. Blaine shakes his head. “Look at me?” No, he tries to say but just ends up sobbing again, pathetic, and Kurt murmurs “Oh, Blaine,” before he wraps an arm around Blaine’s shoulders, pulling him close. His body is so warm. It’s the only good thing Blaine can feel right now.

Blaine loses track of how long he cries - he feels oddly detached from it all, like he’s watching this happen to someone he doesn’t know, and he can’t help but be grateful for that, at least. Kurt holds him the whole time, keeps his hands moving, stroking up and down his arms, and murmurs, “Shh, shh, you’re going to be okay,” every time a particularly violent sob shakes him.

It takes a while, but eventually Blaine comes back to himself, the panic easing away and leaving him feeling limp, heavy in Kurt’s arms. He must look like such a mess in his fancy clothes and slick hair and puffy, tear-stained face.

He takes a deep breath and pulls back a little, sniffling and wiping at his eyes, but Kurt doesn’t let him go far. “I’m sorry,” he croaks. Sorry that Kurt has to deal with this, even after Blaine is gone. Sorry for everything that brought them here.

Kurt shakes his head. “Don’t be, it’s okay,” he says, even though it’s not. He cups Blaine’s cheek in his hand, making him keep eye contact. Blaine just wants to disappear. “What happened?”

“I don’t know.” Blaine’s breath shudders through him. “It just… hasn’t been a good day.”

“How long has it been since you had a good day?”

Blaine counts back in his head how many days it’s been since Kurt came over to drop off Amelia. “Um… four days. I didn’t mean to freak out. So stupid.”

Kurt holds him a little tighter. “Can you talk about it?”

Blaine hesitates. He knows they have to, he even wants to but he feels like the gray-green walls of this apartment are suffocating him and Kurt is the only oxygen in the room. He can’t even think about what he needs to say. “Could… could we go home first? I don’t want to be here.”

Kurt kisses his forehead and whispers, “Okay.”

Home.

�