It’s over the second cup of coffee, after spending several hours trying to distract himself, that Blaine admits that he needs to see Kurt. Not in person – he wouldn’t dare disturb his new life – just some pictures, to remember the layout of the light freckles on his face, the exact shade of his eyes, the angle of his smile. All the details that have been fading from his memory more and more, stolen by time.

But the only photos he has left are in that damn e-mail that brought them the end, and he won’t look at these. Where else can he find some? Asking friends is out of the question – those that he shared with Kurt have mysteriously lost contact with him after they broke up. He could Google Kurt Hummel, he supposes – as creepy as it would be – but he’s afraid to find more than he bargained for. For all he knows, Kurt might have debuted successfully on stage by now and the search results may leave him with dozens of pictures from plays and events, Kurt impeccable as always, smiling happily on the arm of the blond surfer guy (Henri, his memory supplies). Blaine doesn’t think he’s quite ready for that.

Then inspiration strikes: the blog!

Back in high school, as a lonely 16-year-old, Kurt started a blog where he could write freely about fashion, his problems, his friends and – eventually – his boyfriend. It was password protected and only a handful of Kurt’s closest friends, including Blaine, had access. Kurt stopped updating it long ago, near the end of their senior year, when life got too frantic with the upcoming graduation and college plans, but the last entries were full of photos – New Directions and the two of them, in various combinations and poses, as they tried to save the feeling of an era coming to a close. If Kurt hasn’t deleted the blog in the last year, it should all still be there.

Taking a shuddering breath, Blaine reaches for his laptop with a trembling hand. His heart pounds with anticipation. Will it still be there? Will the password work or has Kurt changed it? How will it feel to see his ex-boyfriend again after all this time?

And then there it is. The website is loading, the familiar neutral background just as he remembered it. The pictures should be up in a second.

Except they aren’t. Instead, a new entry with today’s date appears. It’s short and simple, and it catches Blaine’s eye before he can even decide whether he wants to read it or not.

Wait, what? How…? No, seriously, what?

Blaine scrolls down, but that’s it, the end of the entry, apart from a link to some audio content. He presses play and rich guitar tones envelop him. He doesn’t recognize the song at first, it’s not Kurt’s style at all, but then the lyrics begin and he gasps. He knows that song.

The song ends, leaving Blaine shaken and breathless. He feels as if Kurt just reached through his computer screen and squeezed his heart. These words are for him, just for him, they can’t apply to anyone else, and they are here, in the abyss of the internet, where normally no one would find them after all this time of the blog’s inactivity, and yet by some one-in-a-million chance he did, and he used to believe in fate, he used to be sure, so it has to be fate, there’s no other option, he has to do something, what should he do now, oh my god I’m babbling. Breathe in. Breathe out. Calm down. I need to think.

Questions swarm his mind, he just doesn’t understand. How can Kurt claim he doesn’t know why Blaine left? How can he still not be over him? Oh okay, so he isn’t over Kurt either, but he didn’t sleep with a hot man – or anyone else, for that matter – before they broke up. (Or after. Well.) He didn’t fall in love with someone else. Kurt did. He did, right? Because the only way he wouldn’t know why Blaine left would be if he never actually cheated. In fact, he would have to be completely unaware of the fact he was even suspected of cheating. But it’s clearly impossible, he admitted… Didn’t he?

Blaine flashes back to Kurt’s face that last time he saw it – the shock, the confusion, so real.

But he admitted to it! He admitted… to something…

If he thinks about it, Blaine can’t recall actually asking Kurt straight out if he slept with that guy, if he had an affair, even if it was a date – he assumed it was obvious. And Kurt – he admitted he was going to tell Blaine something, but he never actually said what it was. He spoke about taking a chance, about wanting to do it, being comfortable with touching and nudity…

Blaine feels like he’s going mad. He just knows that Kurt is in pain, right now, that he posted a song that was basically a plea for help just hours ago. Kurt, who should be happy somewhere with his new boyfriend, planning their first anniversary of Going Official or whatever cheating couples call it when they’re not cheating and sneaking around anymore. Yet the words on the screen of his laptop scream with raw emotion, the music begs him to do something and he just doesn’t understand a thing. He finds himself in alternate reality, where one thing could potentially be different, changing everything. He remembers how insistent Kurt was, trying to contact him – like he really, really needed to talk, to explain, to ask, he thinks guiltily. All the calls, texts, probably e-mails that got blocked, then the letters… He regrets not keeping any of them now, maybe they would enlighten him somehow.

Wait, he kept one thing! Blaine runs to the closet and pulls out the forgotten box of his things. Maybe Kurt slipped some kind of message inside… He tears through the tape, frantic. And there it is, right on top, on his favorite old hoodie folded carefully by Kurt’s hands – a single sheet of thick cream paper. Blaine grabs it greedily.

Blaine,

it’s pretty obvious by now that you don’t want to hear from me, so I promise this is my last attempt at contacting you.

I want nothing more than to talk to you. See, I don’t understand. I have no idea why the prospect of my performing an erotic scene in a play enraged you that much – or if it was even the reason you left. It would help me find some sense in all of this, some closure, if I knew. It’s just so unlike you!

But I get it – you are over me, over us, so I will try to move on too.

Blaine forgets what air is. A play. Performing. Erotic scene. The pictures must have been from a rehearsal. Kurt felt guilty because he didn’t tell him he considered taking a part where he would perform an erotic scene, that was it? Just that?

He finds the e-mail from Paul, his hands shaking so much he can’t click it for a while. The photos, now that he looks at them critically, could easily be from a theatre. The slightly stiff postures of both men don’t scream sex and who would let anyone take pictures in such a situation, anyway? Not to mention, this guy is so not Kurt’s type. He should have seen all this immediately.

He can’t wrap his mind around it. Kurt never cheated on him. It was all in his head, fuelled by someone’s sick joke and his own insecurities. He left Kurt because of something that wasn’t real. He didn’t even give him a chance of defense, no benefit of the doubt. He’s been paying for it, sure – his life is shitty – but now that he saw the blog, he knows that Kurt’s year hasn’t been any better. Hell, it probably was worse. If leaving the love of your life hurt so bad, how much more it must have hurt to be left by the love of your life, without explanation or an actual reason?

He hurt Kurt… He wanted to protect this man from everything bad in the world, forever, and he just went and delivered the hardest blow himself. He wants the earth to swallow him whole right now.

For a fraction of a second the coward in him considers leaving it all as it is, pretending he hasn’t seen the blog, living the rest of his miserable life in misery and letting Kurt deal with his own, just so that he wouldn’t have to confess how little faith he had in his boyfriend. But no, even the thought of leaving Kurt in pain any longer makes him nauseous (all I need is you, come, please, I’m callin’). He wouldn’t be able to live with himself (I’m on the ledge of the eighteenth story). He has to go find him (all I scream for you). He owes him the explanation and apology, if nothing else. So, so much apologies, for every day, every minute of suffering he caused. He has to go now (hurry I’m fallin’).

He grabs his phone, wallet and keys and runs out into the warm afternoon. The obvious destination is Kurt’s old dorm, but they say he doesn’t live there anymore and no, they won’t give Blaine his new address. Back in his car, he takes his phone. Before he has a chance to hesitate, he chooses the number he hasn’t used for a year.

It goes straight to voice mail – and it’s not even one of Kurt’s trademark witty messages, just a generic prerecorded one.

It leaves Blaine with just one option: Rachel Berry.
It won’t be easy.

It isn’t.
“Blaine, why would I talk to you? You killed my friend.”