A/N: This is the shortest chapter in this story, except for the epilogue. Most of the remaining chapters will be around 3000-4000 words. Just so you know :) And I promise this story is not all angst!

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CHAPTER 4: Limbo

Monday passes as if in a thick, gray fog. Kurt drags his feet through his work day, just going through the motions. He can't afford to be inefficient, but he doesn't manage to keep his usual polite smile on his face. The right muscles just won't work, no matter how much he reminds himself that smiling employees get better tips.

He can't. Not today.

Blaine is gone. They've only just reconnected, and now he's gone.

He didn't return last night – not that Kurt had much hope that he would – and didn't call or even answer Kurt's apology text. All day today, Kurt's phone stays quiet and blank, too, and with every passing hour the weight settles heavier on his shoulders.

This is it. This was the last of Blaine he'll ever see. And he can't even say he doesn't deserve it, because he totally does.

But it doesn't make it hurt any less.

The thought of returning home and having even a moment to think is scary, so when one of the late shift baristas calls in with a migraine, Kurt takes it as a blessing. Covering her shift puts off the inevitable for a few more hours.

By the time he gets home, it's nearly midnight and he's exhausted. Rachel is asleep, so he stumbles to his bed in the darkness and doesn't even bother to change. It's freezing, it's too much effort, and what's the point anyway?

Kurt's phone buzzes when he's already curled under the blanket, trying to spark enough warmth from the thin fabric to fall asleep. Seeing the name flashing on the screen, he answers it so fast he almost drops it in the process.

"Blaine."

Blaine's voice is quiet in the speaker. He sounds tired.

"Kurt, I just... I wanted to tell you that I'm still here. I'm not saying goodbye to you. But... it's hard."

"I know, I'm–"

"No, please, just let me talk for a second." Kurt swallows his apology and listens in silence as Blaine takes a shuddering breath. "It's really, really hard because– You know, I spent three months in hell before your letter came. I thought you were dead, and I knew I could have done something, prevented it somehow. Because we were so close, the closest I've ever been with anyone. I had held you mere hours before you died, for all I knew. And I hadn't realized. I should have realized." Blaine's voice hitches and Kurt's heart breaks at the wet inhalation, his tears falling soundlessly on his pillow. "And now you tell me that it was the plan all along, even when you... when we were... that afternoon. Even then you knew you would be gone soon. Dead. Just like that."

Kurt can't breathe right, choked with the tears, afraid if he tries to speak properly, he'll burst into big, ugly sobs, so he just whispers the only thing he can offer where no excuses apply.

"It was you. I couldn't die that night because of you. So please don't think I didn't care – I couldn't jump off that bridge because I cared too much about you. We're alive because I couldn't leave you, Blaine. Not forever. You literally saved our lives."

There's only the sound of breathing in the speaker, uneven and catching, and Kurt hugs the phone to his cheek and wishes there was warm flesh there instead. They just breathe together in silence for a long moment before Blaine clears his throat.

"I need a little time before I can see you again. But this isn't goodbye, okay? I will call you. I just need to process it all in my head. I'm sorry."

"I'm pretty sure that's my line." Kurt sniffles and wipes his face with a sleeve. "Thank you for calling, Blaine. Sleep well."

"Goodnight, Kurt."

Even with Blaine's assurance, the week is bleak and hard. He doesn't call again and Kurt pushes himself even further than he usually does, sleeping less, taking up additional hours at work, anything to keep himself from thinking. He whips up a batch of small evening bags from some ruined prom dresses he found at a thrift shop a few weeks ago, and sells them all during the weekend. Next Monday, on his way from work, he buys paint and drives Rachel crazy, keeping the overhead lamps on all through the night as he covers the dirty white of their walls with light gray and dark cobalt blue. Eventually, she gives up, tumbles out of bed and grabs the other roller to help, muttering something about lovesick maniacs. The next day, Kurt goes through thirteen hours of work through sheer willpower, but the restlessness is still there, even when he has barely any energy left to move.

Blaine still doesn't call.

Kurt falls asleep the second his head hits the pillow that night, at least.

He knows he can't keep up this schedule, not for long, but he doesn't quite know what else to do. Besides work and his dreams that slip further out of his grasp every day, he doesn't really have anything else.

"Grande gingerbread latte please." Kurt is at the side counter, stocking the pastries, when he hears the familiar voice, and his head snaps up immediately. "And a grande mocha for my friend Kurt if he can take a little break?"

Tabitha looks at Kurt with a smile and nods at him to go. She seems to like him, or maybe she's just grateful for the many times he's covered her shifts when her kids were sick and she couldn't find a sitter. It's an early Thursday evening, and there's a temporary lull at the coffeehouse.

He stands up, only now able to see Blaine over the counter, and his heart stutters a little at the smile in his warm eyes. He takes time untying his apron, the trembling of his fingers caused in equal measure by nerves and exhaustion.

By the time he comes out from behind the counter, their coffee is ready. Blaine takes the cups and leads the way to a corner table, away from the few patrons scattered around the room. The first shock has already passed and now with every step Kurt feels determination straightening his back. There's so much he wants to tell Blaine, some things more important than others, and he doesn't have much time now. He must use it wisely.

"I'm sorry," he says as soon as they're seated. "I know it's not enough, but it's all I have. Yes, we were selfish – I was selfish. I liked you and I wanted to get close to you, experience what I'd never had, even just once before I died. And I knew we were running out of time. I should have pulled away, distanced myself from you months before my birthday, so that you could get over it and not suffer so much when we were gone. But I couldn't. And I'm sorry. I know it's not something that can easily be forgiven."

Blaine shakes his head, his hands playing with his coffee cup. "No, it already is."

"What?"

"It's forgiven. That's what I came to tell you. Yes, you hurt me, but I understand. It wasn't deliberate. Desperate times, desperate measures, all that. And honestly, if I could have not suffered like that at the price of not having what we had... I don't think I'd trade it, Kurt. It was special, and I'm glad we had it."

Kurt's breath stutters out of him. "So you're not... done with me? With us?"

Blaine smiles and squeezes his hand over the table, just the shortest touch. "Of course not. I'd like to get to know you properly this time. If it's alright? Do you have time this weekend? Would that be okay if we tried again? I promise not to storm out this time."

"Yes. Of course, yes. Please."

xXxXx

It's Saturday this time when Blaine comes over, bringing cupcakes and absolutely no expectations or preconceptions with him. Last time, he realized during his self-imposed "time out", he took it all wrong. He thought they would somehow slip back into the easy friendship they'd had, as if nothing had happened. That he would learn new things about Kurt and Rachel, fill in the blanks with new information, and just find his place in their lives again – in new circumstances, but with the three of them essentially unchanged.

He couldn't have been more mistaken.

Not only are they all different now from the things they've experienced in the time they were apart, but Blaine never really knew Kurt or Rachel in the first place, not beyond the tiniest fraction of what they let him know. It's more than the reconnection of old friends. He needs to meet them anew, get to know them as if they'd never met before.

So this time, he doesn't approach their apartment all bouncy and high, a lovesick teenager excited to reconnect with long-lost friends. He comes slowly, attentively, watching his surroundings with new eyes, open to everything, but not expecting anything at all. He pays attention to the neighborhood that looks less safe than he would have liked, considering Kurt walks home late almost every night. He notices the flimsy lock on their door and the freezing cold in the apartment, seeping even through his warm blazer. He takes in the beds covered only with thin blankets, the nearly empty fridge, the counter with nothing but an old coffee maker. He sees the freshly painted walls, but doesn't miss the drafty windows or the fact that the only source of light for the whole loft are the bare fixtures overhead. He looks carefully and recognizes the signs of hardship at Kurt and Rachel's faces, their eyes too serious, as if they've seen too much for their age, their old sparkle muted.

He takes it all in and he aches with the need to help. To protect them.

But first, he needs to know more.

xXxXx

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Chapter art: The phone call

Notice it all

Chapter song: For You Only by Trading Yesterday

The next chapter will be posted on Wednesday 25 September.