12.

Kurt’s phone going off with its ridiculously cheery tune shakes him out of his miserable thoughts. Swallowing the tears quickly to try and sound normal, he reaches for the device – and frowns; it’s Mrs. Anderson. She speaks fast when he answers, sounds of people and vehicles muffled in the background.

“Kurt, hi, my battery is dying and I need to ask you for a huge favor. I know it’s late and you have a plane to catch in the morning, but could you go spend the night with Blaine?” Kurt’s mouth falls open because yes, they’ve been sleeping together and it’s quite logical to assume their parents know that at some level, but a request like this from Blaine’s mom of all people is really not something he expected. She continues. “I’d be really grateful. They’ve cancelled our flight, we can’t get home until tomorrow and I’m afraid to leave him alone for the night. Do you think you could do this? I spoke to your dad, he said he’s okay with it if you are.”

And Kurt doesn’t even hesitate – he will go, of course he will because yes, it’s reasonable, Blaine shouldn’t be alone, not so soon after his breakdown. And besides, if he is getting over Kurt, maybe this is the last chance for them to spend a night together. It may be pathetic, but Kurt can’t say no to this. He just can’t.

But standing on the Andersons’ doorstep a little later, with his suitcase like an anchor by his side, Kurt feels strange and unsure all of a sudden. It all feels surreal. It’s midnight, the house stands dark and silent, and he realizes that he doesn’t even know if Blaine is awake, let alone if he expects him or wants him here. He used to know such things, he muses – a goodnight call or text used to be as certain as the fact that they loved each other; Kurt used to be sure that Blaine would be happy to see him at any time. The fact that he isn’t now speaks volumes about the distance that’s crept in between them.

With his heart stuck in his throat, Kurt rings the bell a couple of times before calling Blaine’s cell. His boyfriend sounds breathless and distracted when he picks up on the fourth ring, but much more relaxed than he did at any point during the last two days, and damn, it hurts.

“Hi, Kurt! Sorry, I wanted to call you to say goodnight, but then it got late and I wasn’t sure I wouldn’t wake you, so-“

“I’m at your front door.”

There’s a muffled curse, a note of panic in Blaine’s voice and rapid shuffling in the background, and for one crazy second Kurt wonders if Blaine has somebody there with him. Then he shakes his head; no, he wouldn’t – not Blaine. There’s a sound of footsteps in the receiver then, and Blaine says, “Sorry, I’m coming.”

Half a minute later he opens the door, disheveled in his night clothes and sucking on the pad of his thumb with an expression that seems guilty for some reason.

“Sorry, I only just noticed my mum’s text that you would be coming, it’s… wow, I can’t believe she asked you to. Come in, don’t stand in the cold.”

Kurt can’t really read Blaine’s mood as he enters. It’s something like a surprised hospitality, with a note of uneasiness, perhaps; like he’s letting in a random unexpected guest, not his boyfriend. His boyfriend… for how much longer? They don’t kiss or hug; hell, Blaine doesn’t even say he’s happy to see him. Probably because he isn’t.

Suddenly aware of the uncomfortable silence, Kurt grapples for something to say – something better than, So do you want us to break up? Nervous (and when was the last time he was nervous talking to Blaine?) he grasps at the first thing he can think of.

“What happened to your hand?”

Blaine shifts uncomfortably and pulls the finger out of his mouth. A small amount of blood gathers instantly in a tiny wound on the fingertip; Blaine grabs a tissue to wipe it off.

“It’s nothing. Got startled by your call and accidently stuck myself with a pin.”

“You should clean it up.”

“Yeah, I probably should. I’ll just… go ahead?” Blaine stops uncertainly before going upstairs, as if waiting for confirmation that Kurt still remembers the way to his room – the same room he’s been to dozens of times, most recently this afternoon. The discomfort is almost thick in the air between them; it’s never been this way before.

Suddenly Kurt isn’t sure how he’s going to survive the night without his heart breaking into tiny little pieces. Because even if Blaine hasn’t admitted it to himself yet – or has he? – it’s clear that he doesn’t really want them together anymore. There are only two ways this night can end – and Kurt doesn’t know which he dreads more. They may talk and break up right here and now, or they may pretend that everything is all right and sleep together. Or even sleep together, although Kurt doubts that. Either way, it’s going to hurt. Steeling himself, Kurt takes a deep breath and follows his boyfriend upstairs.

Blaine’s already in his room when he gets there; there’s a small bandage on his thumb and his eyes are distant and tired. They hardly speak; Kurt goes to the bathroom to change back into pajamas and when he comes back, Blaine is waiting for him in his bed, looking sad and sleepy. They lie in silence, as if acknowledging that there’s nothing more to say, just holding each other lightly, and Kurt can’t believe how much has changed between them. It’s everything he was afraid of before going away in August. How did it happen? Where did they go wrong? Is there any chance to save it – save them?

He realizes he’s been absentmindedly stroking Blaine’s hand when his fingertips brush over the raised skin of the scar on Blaine’s wrist. He flinches a little before gently smoothing his fingers over it again, deliberately this time, and risking a soft, chaste kiss to his boyfriend’s lips. Blaine responds in kind and they kiss for a long while, their hands gentle and slow on hair and cheeks, necks and over clothes. There’s no passion there, nothing erotic really, just intimacy and care, and need for comfort. When Kurt starts to drift off into sleep, he tries to imagine that everything is still good between them; that they still have a future together in New York and love that is greater that Kurt ever hoped for, invincible. He lets himself get lost in Blaine’s embrace, in the touch of Blaine’s hand on his waist, in Blaine’s scent – everything so familiar, bringing back the best moments of his life. He lets himself forget that it might be their last night together, and falls asleep, feeling safe.

At 4:30 the alarm in Kurt’s phone starts blaring; his mind doesn’t want to wake up though, tangled somewhere in the last tendrils of a dream. As he forces himself out of Blaine’s arms and out of bed, Kurt only remembers dreaming about being held tightly and surely, a warm, well known hand on the naked skin under his pajama top and words whispered hotly, fervently into his neck. He can’t remember any particular words, but he recalls tears, hot and wet on his chest, and wonders what it was that he dreamt about.

But he doesn’t have time to think about it – doesn’t let himself think at all, really, afraid he won’t be able to leave if he does. Quickly, efficiently, he does the short version of his morning routine, gets dressed, and accepts a slice of toast and a cup of coffee that Blaine made for him. Then, with a quick kiss and a hug, trying not to think about them as potentially the last ones, Kurt gets in his car – Finn will pick it up on Monday – and goes to the airport.