and high up above or down below
when you're too in love to let it go
but if you never try you'll never know
just what you're worth
lights will guide you home
and ignite your bones
and i will try to fix you.

The bar is dark and dirty, the kind of dirty that makes your skin crawl the moment you walk in. For some reason Kurt finds himself here at least one evening a week, dragged along by the other members of the theater troupe, who insist that he needs to socialize. The other regular patrons don’t even notice his flamboyant clothes anymore, which irritates him to no end – the whole place irritates him, really, but what can you do.

“First round is on me!” Aaron calls out, receiving a happy cheer from the other eight performers who have tagged along this time. They sit down at a table in the corner, but Kurt goes the other way, taking a seat at the bar and ordering a drink. He’s not surprised when one of the members of their little group, a shorter guy with a powder-puff of bright red hair perched on top of his head, follows him cautiously.

“You’re not going to join us?” He asks hopefully. Derek is twenty-one old, though he looks and sounds younger, without a doubt gay though he isn’t out of the closet, and most likely in love with Kurt. He’s sickeningly adorable, and Kurt is almost disappointed to find that the kid is far from his type (even with absurdly curly hair.) It would be the easiest thing in the world to fall for him, but he just can’t. He knows that he’ll break Derek’s heart one day without meaning too, so he tries to keep him at a distance.

“Not really in the mood.” Kurt doesn’t look at him. They go through this exact conversation every week, as if they’re rehearsing the lines for their next musical. Sometimes Kurt actually does make an effort to socialize with them, and he knows exactly what will happen, if he does: they will gossip about the other actors behind each other’s backs, they will rant about how amazing their current project will be, everyone will drive home drunk. Someone will get emotional and tell the rest of the group how much he or she loves them all, how they’re like another family, and this will make Kurt angrier than it should as he wonders what on earth he’s doing with these people. No, he wants to say. No, we’re not a family. Outside of the theater, we don’t even know each other. I’ve had a second family, and it is nothing like this. Because as dysfunctional and dramatic New Directions had been, no matter how sometimes none of them really liked each other, they had loved each other. That was a family. Not this.

It’s better for him to just ignore them all outside of work, so that he can be on stage with these people and not hate their guts for no real reason.

“O-okay. I’ll see you around, then.” Derek smiles brightly and practically skips away, Kurt’s coldness bouncing right off of him. Kurt is halfway tempted to leave – he doesn’t really need a ride home, his apartment is only a few blocks away – but then his drink arrives, and he feels obligated to finish it first.

He doesn’t know why he comes here. At first, it distracted him from himself, but lately it just makes him think more. It’s not like this tiny, dirty Manhattan bar is in any way connected to his past or his friends, but it makes him think about them. Not miss them, exactly, though there’s always some of that in the back of his mind. It’s just nostalgia, he supposes. He had hated high school, but all of the happiest times had happened them as well.

A particularly loud giggle from Derek makes Kurt glance up automatically, but his eyes don’t fall on the table his not-really-friends sit at. They fall a few feet to the left, to a short-ish guy with curly dark hair, wearing a white V-neck and jeans held up with suspenders, all underneath an unbuttoned black blazer. Those suspenders look familiar, sparking a memory Kurt likes to keep buried. He tries to distract himself from the suspenders and instead takes a glance at the man's face.

Oh.

Time freezes. Kurt is sure of it. The chatter of the people around him dissolves, everything but the boy – no, not a boy anymore, a man – his eyes have landed on. There is nothing in the world but the two of them.

This isn’t possible, Kurt thinks, staring at that familiar face. This isn’t happening. He is not here.

But there’s no mistaking him, Kurt would recognize that face anywhere. Every time he passes a guy with curly, dark hair on the street he automatically thinks he’s seeing Blaine, but this is the first time it’s really been him. Everything moves slowly, like a dream, as he wonders what he’s supposed to do now. Does he talk to him? Does he run away and hide? All those half-hopeful daydreams about seeing Blaine again, and now he has no idea what to do. He grips his drink tightly in his hand, frozen like a deer in the headlights.

Then Blaine looks up, right on cue, as if this is just a performance and they are just two actors on stage, and he looks straight at Kurt. Reality comes rushing back, and Kurt looks away, downing his drink in one gulp and keeping his eyes fixed on the bar in front of him. His heart pounds and his stomach twists and it feels an awful lot like stage fright, like if Blaine does recognize him and walks over, he won’t know what to say.

He hears footsteps that are still familiar after three years, and shuts his eyes tight.

“…Kurt? Kurt Hummel?”

He glances up, and of course, Blaine is standing there, looking like he can’t quite believe what he’s seeing. “Oh my god,” Kurt says, because now it’s real. He takes a deep breath to calm his nerves. And then he doesn’t know what to say. He stands there gaping like a fish, and it’s absurd, because one of the� things he’s best at when performing is improvising if he forgets what he’s supposed to do next. He’ll think something up on the spot that everyone else can just go with. Now? He can’t even say hello.

“I can’t believe it.” Blaine lets out a little laugh and runs his hand though his hair, which is still short, but no longer slicked back the way he wore it in high school. “Sorry, I don’t mean to be all awkward. Just didn’t expect to see you here.” Or anywhere, ever again, his eyes say.

“Likewise!” Kurt hates how breathless he sounds, but he can’t help it. He gestures toward the empty stool next to him, and Blaine nods and sits down, his eyes never leaving Kurt. “Small world.”

“Can I buy you a drink or something?” Blaine asks hesitantly. He seems as nervous as Kurt feels which is both good and bad.

“Vodka.” Kurt replies immediately. Blaine raises his eyebrows, but orders two shots anyway. Kurt doesn’t drink hard liquor as a rule, but right now, he feels like he’ll need it. He downs the drink in one gulp, relishing the burning in his throat. He understands why some people call it ‘liquid courage’ now, because while it shouldn’t help, it does. Blaine takes a sip of his drink, wrinkles his nose in distaste, coughs a little, and sets it back down. It’s kind-of-extremely cute, but Kurt wishes that it wasn’t. Neither of them speak for a few moments, but it’s Blaine who breaks the silence.

“How are you?” He asks, putting an elbow on the bar and resting his chin in the palm of his hand as he watches Kurt. Later on, Kurt will look back and laugh at how much this looks and sounds like the beginning of a romantic comedy, something clich�, about two high school sweethearts meeting by chance years later. For now, he calmly answers the question.

“Surviving,” he says, because that’s the only word to describe his current existence. He has work full time and the theater part time part time and working on his fashion design degree part time (although it’s summer now, so he’s got a few moments here and there to relax) and distracting himself from memories and unwanted thoughts the rest of it, so there’s no room for much but survival. “And you?”

The sharp, bitter sound Blaine makes is not quite laughter. “Let me get back to you on that when I know.”

“Fair enough.”

Blaine shifts around and clears his throat. “You, uh, you look good. If that’s not weird to say.”

Well, fuck. Of course it’s weird. Everything about this, Blaine even being here, is weird. Kurt shakes his head, a light smile touching his lips. “It’s fine. And thank you. Glad to see someone still appreciates my fabulousness.”

“The world would be a much darker place without it.”

“True. You do too, by the way. Um. Look good, that is.” Blaine just smiles and Kurt is flustered, and for one second he feels seventeen again, which is both wonderful and terrible. He wishes that he had another drink, wishes that this encounter had happened anywhere but this shitty place. “Let’s take a walk,” he blurts out.

Blaine looks skeptical and pleased all at once. “Really?”

No. Not really. He doesn’t know what ‘taking a walk’ will entail, or what he even means by it, all he knows is that he’s terrified. However, Kurt is a very good actor. “Might as well.” He shrugs.

“Yeah. Okay. Sure.” Blaine pays for the drinks and stands up. Kurt doesn’t bother saying goodbye to Aaron and the other actors as they leave. Derek is the only one who will notice his absence anyway.

They fall into step beside each other easily, an act perfected by months of holding hands as they strolled down the hallways of Dalton Academy and McKinley High, but now they keep their hands far away from each other, Kurt’s in his pockets and Blaine’s gripping the strap on the over-stuffed messenger back he carries, sometimes so hard that his knuckles turn white. Kurt doesn’t let himself waste any thoughts on wondering why. He is thankful when Blaine strikes up a conversation first, because he has no idea what to say. The topics drift from college, to work, to a musical they both happen to have seen recently, to movies and books. They don’t really talk about anything personal. Suddenly Blaine is as much a mystery to him as he was that very first day, when a stranger grabbed Kurt’s hand, insisting that he knew a shortcut. He needs to know something, at least, something to remind him that Blaine did not remain nineteen when they parted, that he has something like a life now too. “Are you living in New York now?” He quickly changes the subject.

“Kind of. Not really. I’m not sure yet.” He shrugs. “Technically I live in California, still, but I’m barely ever there, so… who knows.”

Kurt can’t help but tense up at the mention of California, and wonders if it’s reasonable to harbor a grudge against a particular state. “Work? College?”

“Haven’t finished college yet. Maybe some time.” He laughs. “I busk on street corners a lot. My life is a complete mess, to be honest.”

“And here I expected you to disappear to some Ivy League school and take over the family business or something. Isn’t that what’s expected of Dalton alumni?” He teases. It’s weird how easy it is to talk to him, still.

Blaine shrugs. “Well, if you remember correctly, I didn’t graduate from Dalton,” he points out. That’s true - he had transferred to McKinley for senior year. “But yeah, that’s what Mom and Dad assumed, too. Well, you know them.” Kurt just nods. Blaine’s parents are good enough people, but overbearing, pushing their son to be an overachiever. “And maybe I will, at some point. I guess I just wanted to try… I don’t know… living, for a while. Before I plan out the rest of my life.” He realizes that the conversation has gotten slightly too serious, and asks a question of his own. “So, you’re acting now? Saw a poster for the new play,” he explains.

“Oh. That. Yeah, I guess. It’s no big deal.” Kurt blushes.

“Now, that’s not the Kurt Hummel I know. Lead role, right? It’s totally a big deal.”

“No,” Kurt says, a little more coldly than he intended. “It’s really not.”

Blaine takes the hint and doesn’t say anything more about it. They walk in silence for a little longer, until Kurt sits down on a bench. Blaine sits down on the other end, bites his lip, fidgets. Kurt is almost glad to see that he looks as nervous as he feels. “I’m probably being way too nosy. But. Can I keep asking you questions?” He laughs a little. “It’s weird. Not knowing what’s been going on with you. But you can say no.”

“Only if you answer them back.” Kurt raises his eyebrows. He has to admit that he’s curious about Blaine, too. They were always supposed to know everything about each other, be best friends even if they weren’t lovers. It hadn’t happened.

“Still in touch with New Directions?”

“Try to be.” New Directions is not an easy topic of discussion for him - he misses them so much, sometimes. “Mercedes is in Chicago, finishing up school. Quinn and Puck get engaged and break up every other week. He shrugs, looking down at the ground. “Finn is still in Lima. In college, but he doesn’t want to leave his hometown yet. I guess I need to call everyone else soon, I’m not sure what they’re up to. Rachel and I have an apartment together like we always planned.”

Blaine grins. “Of course you do. I figured you’d never give up on that.”

You should be there, Kurt thinks bitterly. The plan had always been for the three of them to move in together, but then California had happened, and the breakup. But it’s not as if he can talk about that. And how is Rachel?”

“Good, I think. Finally gave up on Finn, long distance wasn’t working, and she’s a lot happier for it.”

“Good for her.”

Kurt nods. “What about the Warblers?” He hasn’t even tried to keep in touch with them. They ‘like’ each other’s statuses on Facebook occasionally, but that’s it.

“Nah. They’re too busy with Ivy League schools and inheriting the family business and all of that. I have lunch with Wes and David every six months or so to talk about the good old days and how we’ll be BFF’s forever, and then we forget about each other for the rest of the year.” He does nothing to hide the bitterness in his voice, and Kurt feels so lucky that, even though he himself is a terrible friend, most everyone else in New Directions cares enough to at least send a mass email on a regular basis, just to let everyone know how they are. Blaine seems to contemplate his next question for a moment before speaking again. “You don’t have to answer this, but… boyfriends?” He says it so quickly that Kurt thinks he misheard. “Have you had any, I mean?”

Kurt swallows, suddenly nervous. “A few.” Quite a few, he corrects himself silently. Kurt had fully embraced the so-called ‘college experience’ after breaking it off with Blaine, losing himself in studying and partying and boys and boys and boys. “Nothing particularly serious.” No one I actually cared about he thinks, but I still cried when I inevitably broke it off. He never cried for himself, though, breaking up with those boyfriends was a relief more than anything else. Maybe he just feels bad for hurting them – he’s keeping his distance from Derek because he doesn’t want to hurt him, after all. “But I’m not seeing anyone at the moment,” he adds as an afterthought, then cringes, because wow, that doesn’t make him sound desperate at all. Who he’s seeing isn’t really Blaine’s business anymore. “You?”

“Just one. Until a few months back. Plus a couple one-night stands I’m not particularly proud of,” he adds. Blaine is nothing if not inappropriately honest. Kurt doesn’t want to hear about one-night stands, doesn’t want to think about one-night stands, especially doesn’t want the words Blaine and one-night stand in the same sentence, and if that makes him a hypocrite, so be it.

“Were you together long?”

Blaine shakes his head. “Not really. Not as long as you and I…” He stops, and Kurt holds his breath. Not as long as we were, Kurt wants to finish, but neither of them complete the sentence. If they acknowledge that they were together once, that they were so in love, that Blaine would have married Kurt if only he’d asked – if they acknowledge that, they have to face it and that is scary. “I’m over it.” Blaine says instead. “We just weren’t right for each other. We’re just friends now, so it’s okay.”

It isn’t meant to make Kurt guilty, but it does anyway. We could have been friends, and it would have been okay. But no. He’s too stubborn and too scared and too much of an idiot.

Blaine looks down at his watch, this expression on his face one of genuine disappointment and confliction. “I’m going to be late,” he mumbles, glancing over at Kurt. “I have to go, but… Kurt… can I see you again?”

Blaine actually wants to see him again. This baffles Kurt to no end. For a moment, he can only stammer, and Blaine looks both amused and worried. Finally, he breathes, “Of course you can.”

“Great.” Blaine stands up, really smiling now. “Great. Really great.”

“I can be at that bar tomorrow evening. Same time.” He wonders if that’s being too hasty or pushy, but the other boy doesn’t seem to mind.

“I’ll be there.” They don’t say goodbye, and Kurt loves that. Goodbye means something is ending, but that’s not what’s happening now. This is a beginning – to what, he both dreads and anticipates finding out.

.

“I honestly don’t know who he thinks he is, telling me my voice is sharp when the girl who actually got the part couldn’t carry a tune to save her life. Can you believe it?”

Mmhm.” Kurt replies absently. He’s used to these rants from Rachel, but he can’t really be bothered to, you know, actually pay attention. He’s too distracted. And with good reason.

“Kurt. You haven’t been paying one bit of attention.” Rachel accuses.

“I’m sorry. I guess I just have a lot on my mind.” He pulls a sweater out of his closet, wrinkles his nose, and shoves it away.

“Anything you’d like to share?” Rachel leans forward from where she perches at his desk chair.

Kurt hesitates, trying to judge how much his best friend will freak out when he tells her. “I kind of sort of saw Blaine yesterday.” He mumbles.

He flinches when she shrieks, “YOU WHAT?”

“Ow! Nothing happened. Not really. It’s not a big deal.”

“I can’t believe you kept this from me all evening! Details. Now.” He tells her the entire story, about running into him at the bar and going for a walk and their entire terrifying, awkward conversation (or what he can remember of it.)

“And he had to leave after that, but first he said, and I quote…” He clears his throat. “’Can I see you again?’”

“Oh my god.”

“Right? What does that even mean?”

“So are you going to? See him again, that is?”

Kurt nods. “Tonight, actually.”

“Get me his number. I miss him.”

“I’ll try.”

Rachel watches him thoughtfully. “Do you still have the ring he gave you?”

“No.” He lies. He’d meant to throw it away when they broke up. He keeps it in his pocket – almost hoping he’ll lose it by accident - and he still wears it, sometimes. Kurt sighs and flops down on his soft bed, staring up at the ceiling. “It’s all so… weird.”

“Good weird or bad weird?”

“I’m not sure…” Kurt bites his lip. Blaine has been on his mind all day, and he’s gone from being excited, to nervous, to considering the option not even meeting up with him that night at all, and then back to excited again, over and over until he’s just a mess of emotion. “I think it… could be good? Or it could be really bad. Like, the worst thing ever. That’s it. I’m not going.”

“Don’t be ridiculous, of course you’re going.”

“…You’re right, of course. I just… I don’t know what to do or say, or what he expects… I don’t even know what I’m going to wear. Help me!” He wails, too distraught to realize he’s asking Rachel Berry for fashion advice.

“I suppose that all depends on what your intentions are. Are you trying to win him back?”

Kurt slowly sits up on his bed, his stomach suddenly in knots. “I… I don’t know.” His voice is barely more than a whisper. “I don’t even know if I want to – god, what am I saying, of course I want to – but – oh my god, what am I doing, Rachel?”