CHAPTER 22

Once Kurt was up and showered, the hours spread before him like barren land that needed to be crossed before he could see Blaine again.

He couldn't focus on anything. He broke a cup while making coffee, nearly walked into a bike on his way to pick up some groceries, and then, while trying to distract himself with preparing some samples for Julian, he sewed right through his fingertip – what was he, an amateur? Finally, he gave up and decided to go wait at Cooper's – well, the Anderson brothers', now – apartment. It was barely half past three when he ran up the stairs to burn some of his nervous energy, but he had his sketchbook and his iPad. He could wait. He knew Cooper wouldn't mind if he just let himself in, and he hoped Blaine wouldn't, either.

The first sound hit him the moment he closed the door behind him, and Kurt froze. Blaine’s voice. It was unmistakable. Time may have passed, but the sounds Blaine made in the most intimate moments had never faded from Kurt's memory.

For some reason, Blaine was home already.

The first moan was followed by another, and then more, in quick succession, and Kurt stood there, knowing full well that he should leave as quietly as possible to grant Blaine his privacy, and never, ever mention he'd been here. His body had other ideas, though. He was rooted to the spot, arousal spiking his blood and burning his cheeks – until he realized that Blaine may not be alone in there.

He should have thought about it earlier, really – it was so obvious. Blaine had been in New York for months now, he was gorgeous and so very special. Why wouldn't he have a boyfriend? And when he'd agreed to meet Kurt, neither of them said anything about their relationship, past or future. For all he knew, Blaine thought it was just two old friends meeting for coffee. And here Kurt was, high on false hopes and ready to apologize, explain, confess. He secretly dreamed of forgiveness and even the tiniest chance to fix it, to make things right again.

God, he would smack his forehead if there was a way to do it soundlessly. He'd been so stupid. Pathetic, really, hoping that Blaine had waited for him all this time.

He had his hand on the doorknob, waiting for another louder sound to cover the squeak of the hinges, when he heard it, breathless and desperate.

"Kurt, fuck, yeah. Just like that. Fuck me, oh god, yes, yes, so good, Kurrrrrrt–"

None of his actions afterward were a conscious decision – not taking the few steps towards Blaine's room, not pushing the half-open door. But there he was, and the picture he saw may have stopped his heart for a moment.

Blaine was on all fours, naked on the bed, his delicious round ass pointed towards the door. And he was fucking himself on a large purple dildo, much bigger than the one Kurt had given him. This one was actually closer to Kurt's own size, yet it was sliding in and out of Blaine's stretched hole with an ease that made Kurt's head spin and his brain go blank.

He heard a whimper, and before he realized it was his own, Blaine was scrambling to get under the covers, squeaking "Cooper!" in a panicked, breathless voice.

It was only when he was covered up to his neck, his face a furious shade of red, that Blaine actually looked at the door – and covered his eyes, mortified.

"OhmygodKurt."

Kurt still hadn't regained his composure though, too much blood flowing south at once, because the only thing his mouth thought to produce was "Yes. Please, I'll do anything you want. I'll fuck you right now if you want to, I –"

He broke because Blaine was looking at him with wide eyes, and some tiny, still functioning part of his brain told Kurt that it wasn't a yes, please look. Just a beat of silence, and then Blaine spoke, surprisingly calm and collected, considering that he still had a rather large dildo up his ass.

"Thank you, but I don't think it would be uh... appropriate. You were right, last year. I don't want to give it up to someone who doesn't love me, just for fun."

It felt like a punch in the face, hard and unexpected, and the worst thing was, Kurt knew he deserved it. It was enough to make his brain kick-start again, and his cheeks burned with the sudden realization of what he'd just done. Barging in like this, and saying those things to Blaine... oh god. He really couldn't have done worse, could he?

"But I –" He swallowed thickly and shook his head. No. There was no way to save this situation, no use trying. No coffee dates or talking or confessions could come after this. "No, you're right. I was a moron, and now it's too late. I'm sorry I came in like that, I won't do it again. I'll just go and –"

"Too late for what?" Blaine's voice was small and soft all of a sudden, though he was trying to keep his face indifferent.

Kurt took a deep breath, trying to will away the sting behind his eyes. Of course he would just come and screw it up all over again.

But Blaine was waiting for an answer. God, get a grip, Hummel. At least give him that.

"Too late... for us? For me to tell you how infinitely sorry I am, for trying to make it up to you, for confessing..." he trailed off.

"Kurt?" It was barely a whisper and the hopeful note in Blaine's voice made Kurt's heart pick up speed.

"I... I was an idiot."

"Are you saying..."

"I'm saying that I love you, that I have loved you all along, but I was afraid and–"

"Kurt." Calm and quiet, but firm, and Kurt took a deep, shaky breath.

"Yes."

"Let me... I need a little time. Let me call you when I'm ready for this conversation, okay?"

Okay then. Was a little time a day? A few? A week maybe? More? Or was it just a gentle way to tell him to go away? Whatever it was, it was not Kurt's call.

He nodded and turned away.

 With a shaky “I'm so sorry,” he left.

Kurt managed to get home, kick off his shoes, go to the bathroom to wash his hands, glare at himself in the mirror, make coffee and then abandon it in favor of slumping in the window seat and moping (because really, what had he been thinking?), before there was a soft knock on the door.

Whoever it was, they'd have to go away because Kurt was so done with people. He wasn't a people person, he'd just decided. He'd shut himself in his studio from now on, surround himself with sketchbooks and fabric, order groceries online and live a solitary life, saving the humanity from having to endure his awkward and destructive behavior.

Honestly. He just didn't deserve a relationship if all he could do to the man he loved was either hurt or embarrass him.

The knocking came again – once, twice – and then Kurt heard the last voice he expected, muffled by the door.

"Kurt? Are you here?"

By the time Kurt jumped up and got to the door, his phone started to ring, and he pulled the door open to find Blaine there, real and gorgeous and fully clothed, thank god, with a phone by his ear. He clicked it off and the ringing stopped, and then he was smiling shyly at Kurt.

"Hi. I was thinking... how about we have that coffee now? Here, preferably? I think we need to talk."

"Um. Sure. Hi. Of course. Come on in." God, what was it with the incoherence today?

By the time they maneuvered their way through apologizing profusely (Kurt, for walking in like that and not having the sense to leave immediately) and assurances that it was fine (Blaine, though he must have been just saying that because how could this have been fine?), the coffee was ready and the cups placed on the kitchen table. They sat down opposite each other in silence and for a moment, Kurt could just look into those eyes, relearning every hue, every swirl of color. Then, remembering that he should probably say something, he cleared his throat.

"I was certain you'd never want to see me again after I barged in like that."

He felt himself blush and Blaine chuckled, a quiet, slightly embarrassed sound.

"Um, no. I just thought it would be awkward to ask you to wait in the living room until I got myself more... presentable." His cheeks were pink now, too. He looked beautiful.

"Oh. Right. Good thinking. I mean... god, I'm so sorry, Blaine, really. I'll just... give the keys back to you now, or to Coop next time I see him, I'll –"

"Kurt." One soft word, but it was enough to cut his slightly hysterical rambling. Feeling as if something was unraveling in his chest; dizzy with anticipation or anxiety, or both, Kurt took a deep breath.

"Yes. I'm sorry, I'm shutting up now."

Blaine looked at him, so open and serious, and only the way his hands fidgeted with the coffee cup betrayed that he was nervous at all.

"I need to know something, okay? And please be honest with me."

"Always, from now on. I swear."

"How much of what you said back there, earlier, was because you walked in on me getting off to a fantasy of you?" Blaine's blush was even deeper now, but his eyes never left Kurt's.

A part of this sentence had a potential to send blood away from where it was really needed right now, so Kurt hastily filed the thought away for later.

"None." He said with conviction. "Well, I mean, the way I said it had plenty to do with that, because I lost my filter for a moment. But I meant everything I said, Blaine. I do love you. I've loved you for a long time. I hoped I'd get to tell you today."

Blaine drew a shaky breath, a flash of pain shadowing his features for a moment. Kurt wanted to reach for him and kiss it away, but he knew it wasn't his place – not anymore, probably not ever again. And he only had himself to blame.

"You broke my heart." It was barely more than a whisper, but it was filled with so much hurt that the tight clench of Kurt's throat came back with a vengeance.

"I know. And I'm so very, very sorry. There's not a day I don't hate myself for it."

Blaine shook his head sharply. "Don't. I love you too much to let you hate yourself."

There was not enough air in the room all of a sudden. "You... do? Still?"

Blaine shrugged, a shadow of a smile appearing. "Of course. Did you think I could just stop? I can't. And believe me, there were moments when I really wanted to. It doesn't work that way."

"I know."

The world was getting blurry and Kurt didn't even care anymore when the tears finally overflowed and ran, silent and warm, down his face. They sat in silence for a while, until Blaine spoke again.

"For a long time, I kept hoping you'd call me. Why didn't you call me? Why are you only telling me now?"

Kurt wiped at his face distractedly. "I wanted to. Dozens of times, I sat with the phone in my hand, fighting with myself. I deleted your number eventually, because it was too tempting. You asked me not to make it harder for you, to stay away, so I wasn't going to go against that."

"I did?" Blaine looked honestly surprised. "I don't really remember what I said back then. I was a bit... overwhelmed. That explains a lot, though." He took a deep, shaky breath. "So when did you decide you wanted to tell me after all? When did you realize that– um–" He paused, as if afraid saying it out loud would somehow break the spell.

Kurt wanted to look away, suddenly shy, but couldn't.

"I regretted not telling you I loved you the second you closed the door behind you last summer. But I was too afraid to act on it. After James, and a few others before him... I thought I'd rather be lonely than hurt like that ever again."

"So what changed?" Those big golden eyes were so warm and curious, mesmerizing.

"I've tasted life without you. And I hated it. I still hate it. I ended up lonely and heartbroken. I guess it serves me right for being a coward."

His voice broke a little on the last word and oh, here were the tears again. Fuck, was he turning back into his teenage self? He'd long learned how to control the waterworks and yet –

But then Blaine touched his hand; just a fleeting brush of warm fingers, his face so focused and solemn, and Kurt shivered. This was the moment of truth, wasn't it? This was where Blaine would tell him he'd waited too long, that it was over.

"Kurt, no one can swear a relationship will last forever – you can't swear it yourself. People and circumstances change sometimes, even I am aware of that."

"I know." Rationally, he'd always known. But his heart had refused to accept anything less, before.

"So if you want a promise of till death do us part, no matter what happens, I can't give you what you need. I can only promise to love you and cherish you, and do everything in my power for this relationship to work."

Kurt gasped. He must have misunderstood.

"You... you'd consider trying again?"

Blaine shook his head and clarified. "Not trying. Trying isn't enough. Being together? Yes, I would. But I need you to be certain, Kurt. I need to know you're in it for better or worse this time; that you're sure it's worth the risk. That I'm worth the risk."

"Of course." It was understandable.

"So take your time, take as long as you need and if you decide it's something you want, you know where to find me. If you decide otherwise –"

Kurt interrupted him. "I don't need time, Bee. I can't be any more certain."

Eyes starting to sparkle, smile slowly growing, Blaine still sounded cautious though.

"Aren't you... dating anyone right now?"

"I haven't dated anyone in over six months."

"I have." Ouch. Well hello, jealousy. "I'm not now, though. But I'd be willing to. If you were ready to be with me, that is."

Heart pounding, Kurt finally allowed himself to reach over the tabletop and cover Blaine's hand with his own.

"So ready." He could say it properly now; the way it should be said. "I love you."

"I love you too."

For a moment, they just grinned at each other, eyes bright and hearts overflowing. Then Kurt squeezed Blaine's hand and asked, a little breathless.

"Now what?"

"Now... how about we go to the bedroom?"

***

They held hands, walking the few paces to the room. Kurt's face was all joy and disbelief, his eyes darkened and wide, and Blaine was pretty sure he knew what Kurt expected would happen.

Well, it wouldn't. They had time, now. Blaine had been accepted to study music at NYU, so he wasn't going anywhere. His parents no longer had a say in his life choices, and Cooper was eager to see them back together, judging by his less than subtle remarks. There was no reason to either hide or rush anything this time. And while the sex had been amazing back in summer, there were things Blaine had missed a lot more than that.

He sat down on the bed the moment they reached it, and scooted back towards the middle of it, tugging at Kurt's hand for him to follow.

"What do you want me to do, Bee?" Kurt's voice was warm and low, dark tones betraying his arousal.

"Just... hold me."

And just like that, hunger melted into tenderness and Kurt was right there, climbing on the bed, lying down, pulling Blaine with him, and god, he'd missed it so much. It was as if he'd been covered with a thin layer of ice, as if he'd frozen to the bone in the long months since they'd broken up. He hadn't been touched for so long – really touched, with love and care, and not just sexual intent. Now with every touch of Kurt's hands stroking his back, his arms, every hot breath tickling the skin of his neck, Blaine felt like his body was thawing, getting warm at last. Only then did he realize just how cold he'd been, and how painful it'd felt.

Eyes closed, he sought out Kurt's lips blindly, and oh, it felt like coming home. He'd had his share of dates after he'd moved to New York; there'd been kisses and make-out sessions, some quite heated, even. There'd been more, a few times. But no one had ever felt the way Kurt did, so perfectly right, like they were two puzzle pieces, made for each other.

Time disappeared. The outside world went away, forgotten. Their coffee grew cold; the light outside changed and then dimmed, and still they were kissing – just kissing, slow and luxurious, until their lips were swollen and raw, until they remembered every tiny detail, until every hurt and every tear was apologized for and forgiven. And then they kissed some more. Pressed together, both of them aching and yearning and wanting, but it didn't matter.

They had all the time in the world.