A/N: Thank you so much for all the lovely birthday wishes, I've been smiling so much tonight that my face hurts :D I have the sweetest readers and friends in the world! *hug*

A bit of admin info: we've decided not to post the next chapter on Saturday this time, to give ourselves – and you – time to breathe after tomorrow's Glee episode. We'll be back on Monday.

--------------------------------------------------------

"Have you been with anyone since we left?"

They are sitting in a tiny teahouse, warming their hands on the large rounded cups, when Kurt finally manages to ask the question that has been on his mind since the party last week.

Blaine doesn't meet his eye, stirring sugar into his Earl Grey.

"Yes." He answers finally, his voice quiet. "Several people."

"Oh." That's all Kurt is able to say, a stray sound punched out of him with nothing more than quiet words. It sounds strangled.

Blaine finally looks up, his eyes intense. "Kurt, you have to understand, I thought you were gone."

Somehow, this hurts even worse. He was replaced that fast? Even before Blaine got the message letting him know that they were alive?

Blaine seems to have realized where Kurt's thoughts went. "No, I mean, I knew you were out there somewhere. I knew you were alive, but it was so long since I heard from you. I thought you were gone for good, gone from me, never to come back. I was just trying to start living again, Kurt–"

Kurt nods, swallows through the pain that has lodged itself firmly in his throat. "No, it's okay. You didn't owe me anything. I left. I was as good as dead, what were you supposed to do? Wait forever? I'm... I'm glad you moved on."

"I'm not." It's barely more than a hoarse whisper. Blaine's hands are tight around the cup. "And I didn't. Not really."

"What?" It takes a surprising amount of effort to ask this one tiny question.

Blaine takes a shaky breath. "I was never over you. I'm still not."

It's as if the world slowed down, Kurt's heart beating in slow motion while he just looks at Blaine. Wide, earnest eyes. His eyebrows minutely drawn, the tension in his jaw. His hand twitching around the cup.

In the depth of his confusion, Kurt finds his voice. "So... what does that mean? For us?"

Apparently, he was right not to let himself hope yet because Blaine's face just crumbles. "Nothing. I... Kurt, I can't. I'm sorry."

"I don't understand."

"I want us to go back to what we had. I want to be able to just take your hand and be with you, if you let me. I want it so bad, Kurt. But I'm terrified." Blaine's hand is clenched so hard that his fingertips are white. Kurt reaches to gently relieve him of the cup and squeeze his hand instead. Eyes locked on their joined palms, Blaine says in a tight voice, "I'm too scared I'll lose you again. That you will disappear one day, or simply decide I'm not the right person, and I will have to grieve all over again. And I don't think I can do it."

Oh.

"Blaine. Blaine, look at me." Kurt waits until Blaine's eyes focus on his before saying, softly, but with all the certainty he feels, "I love you."

There, it's long overdue, but it's out. And Blaine is looking at him in shock.

xXxXx

It hits Blaine like a punch, these words he'd been hoping to hear from Kurt one day, back in what feels like another life. And now it's here, a real and deliberate confession, not a fever-induced murmur that could be anything. This moment should feel perfect and moving, it should vanquish any doubts Blaine has.

But instead, all he can think of is that one morning long ago when he nearly flew to school, feeling light and happy and filled with the overwhelming need to finally say those words to Kurt – only to find out that there was no Kurt anymore. That he had died, killed himself, and no amount of tears or screaming into space or bargaining with fate could bring him back. No amount of love, either.

And even though the miracle did happen, after all – even though something did bring Kurt back – it doesn't erase that memory or that pain. Nothing can.

xXxXx

And then Blaine whispers, "I love you too."

This is not the way Kurt imagined them saying it for the first time. It was supposed to be different. But it doesn't matter.

Blaine loves him too.

Except in Blaine's eyes there's still despair instead of joy, so Kurt moves his hand to intertwine their fingers, and promises, "I'm not going to leave you. Not anymore."

It stings when Blaine gently pulls his hand away to place it back around his cup instead. He doesn't look at Kurt when he speaks softly. "What if they find you one day and you decide you need to run again?"

"We don't–" It's ridiculous, they are done running, but Blaine doesn't let him finish.

"What if you reunite with your parents and want to live closer to them? Move to LA or somewhere? What if you meet someone else and realize that what we had was just a silly teenage romance? What if, Kurt?" His face is so full of pain, Kurt's heart aches to comfort him, but when he reaches towards him, Blaine shakes his head. "You can't be sure. And if I just let go, let myself be happy with you, and then you leave..." There are tears in his eyes now.

God, Kurt had hurt him so much.

Blaine's voice is breaking when he says, with the air of finality, "I can't."

"You don't trust me anymore." The realization aches, but doesn't surprise Kurt, not really. Blaine shakes his head.

"I'm sorry. I'm trying, and maybe one day I will be ready to take the leap but... I don't know."

They finish their tea in silence. There's nothing left to say, really.

As they part to go home, Kurt hesitates for a bit. "Could we... not talk for a few days? I think I need a little bit of time."

"Am I losing you as a friend now, too?" It's more than sadness in Blaine's voice; it's resignation, and Kurt hurries to reassure him.

"No, of course not. I just need to–" Grieve? Get used to the fact that they will likely never be together again? That Kurt had screwed up that bad? "– put away my dreams."

He's sure he can hear a muffled sob as Blaine nods and turns away to go to his dorm.

The next few days are subdued in Kurt and Rachel's apartment. The phone doesn't ring. The music is off. Only the steady hum of the sewing machine fills the loft from dawn until the late night.

Kurt told Rachel about his conversation with Blaine when he came home that night, but he also asked her not to make him talk about it, not yet. She hugged him tightly and let him go to bed – by himself, because that was what he wanted. When he woke up late the next morning after tossing and turning long into the night, he found a huge piece of cheesecake on the kitchen table, from his favorite bakery three blocks away. "All yours," said a post-it note stuck to the box. He had to smile.

He needs space and solitude right now, needs room to breathe and to scream when he has to. He's mad at himself for ruining the most precious thing he's ever had, at his parents for forcing them with their choices, at life for dealing him this particular hand. Mad at the world because it's Valentine's Day and everything is covered with stupid little hearts, and all day at work there are happy couples being disgustingly in love that he has to serve, smiling forcefully and drawing hearts on their lattes. And then there are the memories of a similar day two years ago that are like stabs right now.

He needs time.

Fortunately, time is not a problem since Blaine keeps away just like Kurt asked him to and Rachel has thrown herself back into auditions, filled with new resolve and fresh confidence thanks to the acting group. No one else is there to disturb his grieving and after five days of feeling raw and broken, there comes a morning when the longing for Blaine is stronger than the heartbreak.

So he texts Blaine and they meet for coffee that evening, and even though it still aches to see him, with his sad eyes and his careful smile, it doesn't kill Kurt. They don't talk about their feelings. They don't try to be more than close friends. But it's enough. It has to be. It will take a while before they stop apologizing for every mildly suggestive word, before the awkwardness passes completely, but they will get there. They are too important to each other to let this break them apart.

Just... maybe no more sleepovers would be a good idea. At least not in the same bed.

Two days later Rachel comes home quietly excited. She's been trying to tone down her exuberance lately, mindful of Kurt's mood, so she doesn't come in bouncing and squealing, but he knows her. She's barely holding in some big news.

"Okay, out with it before you burst. What's up?"

This does get her to start bouncing on the balls of her feet. Her voice is a little squeaky as she says, "I think I have a role."

"What?" Kurt stops fiddling with a zipper on the tiny bag he's sewing and gets up to pull a beaming Rachel to the couch. "Oh my god, that's wonderful! Tell me everything."

"Well, it's nothing big. Just a background character with a handful of lines, and it's off-Broadway. But hey, it's a start. I won't be the girl without experience anymore."

The fact that she doesn't have any references has been a major obstacle in most of her auditions so far. She's neither studying to be an actress nor can she include any plays she's been on in her resume. Not that there were that many, or anything significant, just three high school productions, but at least the lead in West Side Story might be something to show that she has any experience at all. But they can't risk anyone contacting the schools to ask about the supposedly dead girl who turned up to audition. So having an actual role would be a huge improvement.

"That's great, Rachel! I'm so proud of you." Kurt hugs her tightly. "We should celebrate!"

"No," she interrupts before he has time to think of a restaurant that would be nice and within their budget. "Let's wait until I get the official confirmation, okay? I don't want to jinx it. But–" She slides out of his embrace and there's something in her smile that makes Kurt arch his eyebrows, suspicious.

"Okay, what is it that you want?"

Rachel smiles sweetly. "You know it's my birthday next week, right?"

"Is it? I forgot." Kurt teases and she swats his shoulder playfully. He chuckles. "Come on. Of course I know. And?"

She takes a deep breath and preemptively switches on the puppy eyes. Kurt has a bad feeling already.

"I want to throw a birthday party," she says. "Here."

It isn't as terrible as Kurt expected.

It turns out that Rachel's friends know of their financial situation, so they come bearing party food to add to what Kurt prepared, iPods with proper speakers and vast libraries of music, and a karaoke machine. They also bring alcohol, which they point out "the kids" shouldn't be drinking, and then mix drinks for them anyway. No one cares that there's not enough furniture to sit on and everyone accepts that Kurt's bedroom space, where his sewing machine and his designs are, is the only part of the loft that is off limits.

It's a tight fit with over twenty people in their apartment – dancing, singing, talking and laughing loudly, not a quiet corner in sight – but it's surprisingly bearable with Blaine by Kurt's side and Rachel so happy she's glowing, mingling with the crowd. Her friends turn out to be a mixed lot, the youngest in their early twenties, the oldest well over forty, but they all seem nice and very fond of Rachel, treating her like she's a pet of the group, complimenting her in front of Kurt for her talent and determination. He's glad to see her so well liked and accepted. She deserves it so much, and hasn't had a chance to be appreciated like this for so long.

Kurt is just watching her talk to a small group of people who haven't heard about her successful audition yet. She looks like a dream – beautiful in her short black dress with her hair like a shiny dark curtain down her back. Effervescent in her enthusiastic recollection of the director's compliments after her audition.

He walks over in time to hear, "See, I told you they would love you if you dropped the innocent girl act, now you're gonna get noticed in no time."

It's a skinny, thirty-something redhead talking – Annie? Allie? Kurt isn't sure – and he asks before Rachel manages to open her mouth. "Innocent girl act?"

The woman turns to him, unaware of Rachel's panicked expression that makes something heavy settle in Kurt's stomach. "Oh, you know, the pretty little virgin image. We've been telling her to play the sexy angle for weeks, use the body God gave her. How else will a girl get noticed in this business?" Her laugh is dry and Kurt tries very hard to keep his reply calm.

"Oh, I don't know, talent maybe?" he says breezily, and that actually gets the redhead to roll her eyes.

"You kids and your naïve notions of how the world works. Of course talent is important, but we're living in a city that's overflowing with talent. In a sea of amateurs, she's not going to get hired on talent alone, not until she has some achievements to show with it. But she has her youth and her beauty and her sexuality, and that's a big advantage. It would be a sin not to use it."

Kurt must have a different definition of sin because the ugliness of what she's implying is making him queasy, but before he can say anything more, Rachel is grabbing his hand.

"Hey, could you get me some diet Coke from the fridge? Please?" Her face is anxious, her eyes pleading, and he understands what she's asking for. Not now, not when all my friends are here. We will talk about this later.

Oh, they so will, he's not going to leave it like that. But fine, it's her birthday, it can wait.

He brings her the Coke and gets himself another drink – something strong and fruity in a red cup. He hasn't planned to drink more than the one he had earlier, but now he's hoping the alcohol will numb him and stop the internal shaking long enough to let him endure the rest of the evening. He downs the drink fast and by the time Blaine comes back from the kitchen where he's been discussing the value of being a triple threat when looking for an acting job, Kurt is feeling relatively calm.

He doesn't tell Blaine about his conversation with the red-haired woman or about Rachel's reaction that told him pretty much everything he didn't want to know. Not yet. It's something they need to discuss alone, he and his sister.

For the next four hours Kurt tries his best to mingle and chat and laugh; he drinks two more fruity concoctions and even lets Blaine convince him to get up on their old table and sing a karaoke version of some terrible pop tune. By the time everyone leaves, crammed into five cabs that are going to dispense them throughout their respective neighborhoods, it's two a.m. and Kurt's head is swimming in an unpleasant way, both from the alcohol and the prospect of the talk he's going to have to have.

For a moment, he considers asking Blaine to stay behind after all. He could use the support and surely Blaine as an aspiring actor would be able to tell Rachel with added authority that what she heard was bullshit. But in the end, he decides against it – he can't expect Blaine to pay the full cab fare to go home afterwards or risk a nighttime commute while so very tipsy. And a sleepover is out of the question.

No, he can deal with it alone.

"I didn't sleep with him," are the first words out of Rachel's mouth when they are finally alone. "Don't look at me like that, I didn't."

She looks flushed and upset, and he believes her. But the fact that she has to assure him of that causes something hot to flare in him because it means she did do something she's not proud of.

"I never thought you did," he says softly and then just looks at her, unsure how to ask.

Oh, how much he wants to believe that all she did during that last audition or any of the previous ones was turn on that sexy vibe she's so good at when she's trying. He's been altering or sewing most of her clothes himself, so he knows full well how her wardrobe differs from what she used to wear – short skirts and slinky dresses, sexy tops and a lot of black. She can pull sexy in a blink. But her earlier reaction tells him it's more than that.

"So what did you do to change the... what was it? Innocent girl act?"

She shrugs and starts gathering the empty cups, throwing them in a trash bag. "Oh, you know. Just. Act bolder, be more confident. Work on affirmations a little, reminding myself I'm a grown woman, not a schoolgirl anymore. Show some nudity. Wear heels and fake eyelashes and paint my fingernails and –"

"Whoa, wait, backtrack there a little." Kurt frowns and she glances at him across the kitchen.

"You mean the fake lashes? I know you think they're tacky but–"

"No, Rachel. You know very well what I mean." He winces at how stern his voice comes out when all he's aiming at is calm. The last thing he wants is sounding like her father.

She sighs heavily and flops on the kitchen stool, suddenly irritated. "Right, the nudity. Well, so what? I do topless scenes when they ask me to. I tell them I'm up for performing nude if needed. It's not a big deal. I have a nice body, it's one of the tools of the business."

Kurt speaks before he thinks it through, anger at how lightly she's treating this bursting through the self-control he's been trying to maintain. "I didn't know you're auditioning for the porn business now. But it figures, with all the nights out and the slutty lingerie, the stash of condoms–"

Rachel gasps and then her eyes narrow. "You did not dig in my underwear drawer."

"I was putting away laundry. Someone has to, you know, while you're out conquering the world, practicing your striptease for the directors and hooking up with random strangers."

Her eyes flash dangerously, her tone hard, vicious. "Well maybe you should try that sometime. Might help you get that stick out of your ass."

Now it's Kurt's time to gasp. "What is that supposed to mean?"

She's back to gathering the cups and paper plates, her movements jerky now, furious. "Well you're the one hung up on a guy who doesn't want you. Maybe you should let loose a little, go out and have some fun. We're in New York for God's sake, do you know how many hot, eager gay men I see every time we go to a club? If you went with us every now and then, you would get over Blaine in no time, but nooo, of course not, you're too much of a prude to even consider casual sex. So instead you sit at home and mope and judge others who have more fun than you do, and it's not fair, Kurt."

He looks at her like she grew a second head, fury boiling in him hot and dangerous. Who is this girl?

"I'm trying to keep us afloat! Who would pay the rent and make sure there's food to eat if I were to get on the fun train you so recommend? We'd be back on the streets in no time. So forgive me if I work my ass off to make a living for us. And yes, I judge you. And you know why?" He doesn't care if his words are cutting now, his finger pointed at her to stress every word. "Because if you continue this way, you will never get on Broadway. The theater world isn't that big, Rachel. Do you think no one will know you paved your way to your first roles by showing your boobs? You will end up as a mediocre, disenchanted actress starring in lackluster shows, and I know you're better than that. I thought you dreamed bigger. So yes, I judge you for selling yourself cheap and for betraying your dreams. It feels like I barely know you anymore."

Rachel's eyes fill with tears and maybe Kurt should feel bad, but instead, he feels a kind of vindictive satisfaction. Maybe this will get to her at last, make her see reason. But then she sticks her chin up, her face hard.

"No one says you have to. I don't need your approval, Kurt. Or your sacrifices. And you don't get to tell me who I am, like you know better. Because you don't. We're not even family." Her voice wavers at the end and she storms off to the bathroom, locking the door.

Kurt tries to clean up some more, but his head hurts and so does his heart. They don't fight like this often, but when they do, they don't pull any punches. He knows the next few days will be an awkward, painful dance of apologies and smoothing everything out. He's already sorry for some of the things he said, even though they were all true, but it's too late to try and talk it out tonight. Especially when Rachel is still fuming, her only reaction to his knock on the bathroom door a snappy "Go away."

She doesn't come out by the time Kurt decides to go to bed, only passes him his toothbrush without a word and locks the door again. He brushes his teeth at the kitchen sink, takes in the mess he'll have to tackle in the morning and goes to bed, somehow managing to fall asleep despite the turmoil in his head.

When he wakes up, it's after eight. Rachel must have tiptoed around the apartment before going to work, unwilling to wake him up and risk a confrontation first thing in the morning. With a heavy sigh, Kurt rolls out of bed and goes to the kitchen, hoping to find a clean mug for his coffee before he deals with the rest of the party debris.

Except there's no debris left.

All the trash is collected and taken out, the dishes washed, the floors swept and mopped, and on the clean kitchen counter is a solitary sheet of paper.

Kurt,

I'm not going to weigh you down any longer. I'm moving in with my boyfriend (before you ask: no, you haven't met him, and no, you probably wouldn't approve of him anyway). I hope you'll be able to enjoy yourself a little more with the load of me and my faulty ways off your shoulders.

Take care,

R.

----------------------------------------------------------

Chapter art: I love you

Auditions

Chapter songs: High Hopes by Kodaline

According to You by Orianthi

The next chapter will be posted on Monday 14 October.