Two weeks later the apartment is already filled with the smell of food when Kurt comes home, and he enters the kitchen to find Blaine behind the stove, sporting the 'May the forks be with you' apron Kurt had given him for his birthday the year before.

"Hi there," he says, smiling as he walks over to quickly press a kiss against Blaine's cheek, and his stomach gives a little jolt when the gesture is returned. It's the only physical contact between them he's allowed himself, and he finds himself appreciating it all the more for it. "What are you making?"

"Just a simple wok," Blaine replies. "Threw in some of the leftover veggies we had and those quorn strips you got last week. Wasn't sure if you were coming home for dinner and I wanted something quick. It's almost done, if you want to set the table."

"I would've texted if I was staying out, you know that," Kurt comments, dropping his satchel and shaking off his jacket, but when he looks over Blaine's shoulder to see what he's doing, he frowns.

"Half a bag of frozen vegetables don't classify as 'leftover veggies', Blaine," he says disapprovingly. "Vegetables need to be fresh."

"Scientific studies indicate there's more vitamins in frozen vegetables because they're processed and frozen right after they're harvested instead of spending days in transport and on display," Blaine replies with the practiced easy of someone who's made the argument multiple times already. "Vegetables are vegetables. Now could you set the table? Please?"

For a moment, Kurt wants to comment, but finally he decides to let it go, although he can't keep himself from muttering a silent 'slave driver' under his breath.

"So, how was your day?"

"It's over, fortunately," Blaine says, rolling his eyes dramatically. "Let's just keep it at that for now, please. How was yours?"

Kurt groans, moving to the cupboard to take out the plates.

"About as good as yours, by the sounds of it. Murphy still refuses to let us use the cutting room outside contact hours or to extend contact hours, which basically means there's no way we can finish our project in time. Then Madeleine liberally interpreted my offer for help with English and simply wrote her part of our History paper completely in French and now expects me to translate it all, and then Van Buiten said my Spring designs lack 'vivacity and innovation'. He's the one who told me to use classic pastel colors in the first place!"

He's gotten so caught up in his ramblings that it isn't until he wants to set down the plates that he notices the table is full of papers, and he pulls out a chair with his foot to put the plates there instead.

"What are these?" he asks, as he picks up some of the sheets.

"Those are... eh... applications," Blaine says over his shoulder, his voice taking that tone where he tries to sound casual but fails. "For a summer internship? We're not required to take one yet, but I thought it would be good anyway, give me some extra credit."

Kurt nods numbly but he barely hears Blaine anymore - his ears are ringing and he feels queasier with every application he sees. Centre for Disease Control. Division of HIV/AIDS Prevention. Elton John Aids Foundation. Children Affected by Aids Foundation. HIV/AIDS Prevention and Education.

"Most of them are out of state," Blaine continues, "I mean, EJAF's here in New York but I don't think I'll get in, it's too high profile. But CAAF would be cool. Or HAPE. They're in LA, so I was hoping maybe I could stay with Brittany and Santana if I get in, you know, reducing costs and all."

"You can ask them next week," Kurt replies absently, automatically, because he's still holding on to the damned sheets and the words are swimming in front of him, thoughts tumbling through his head so fast he can barely keep track of them.

Why does he want to do this? Why does he want to spend his summer working with people who have the same problems he's facing every day? How is he going to explain this to our friends? They'll be suspicious, they'll ask questions, they'll find out and- oh god what if they find out? What will they think of me? What will they think of Blaine? Will they react bad because it's hard enough dealing with Mercedes right now I can't take any more people acting like that, or worse. I can't deal with that, I can't deal with this, and how does he expect me to react to this? Why did he even let me see this?

But a wave of guilt crashes over him before he even finishes the last thought, because he knows exactly why Blaine left those papers on the table for him to find.

No more hiding, they had agreed, no more secrets.

It had sounded so much easier in theory.

Because Kurt had never imagined it would be so hard. He had definitely never imagined it would be so hard for him. His resolve to start facing reality had started crumbling already the morning after his talk with Blaine about his meds, when the now infamous toiletry bag had been the first thing he'd seen opening the bathroom cabinet to take out his moisturizer. He hasn't fared much better at dinner: as Blaine had predicted, seeing Blaine take his meds on a daily basis had proven to be a painful reminder both of Kurt's own forced therapy -months ago but still fresh on his mind- and the simple reality that Blaine was not, never would be, alright.

It kills him.

And so now it is Kurt who is hiding, more often than not keeping himself busy with stirring and tasting before dinner until he hears the tell-tale sound of an empty water glass behind him and he knows it's safe to turn around. It's Kurt who doesn't ask how Blaine's evening was when he comes home late on Thursday nights, looking tired and worn-out. And it's Kurt who wants to pretend he hasn't read the application forms in front of him, because even if Blaine clearly still isn't comfortable with telling Kurt things directly -and to be honest, neither would Kurt be-, he's apparently keeping up his end of the deal, and doesn't hide things from Kurt anymore.

But sometimes, just sometimes, Kurt wishes he still did.

"Kurt. Kurt? Could you maybe take those away?"

Blaine's standing next to him, pan in one hand and coaster in the other, gesturing with his chin towards the papers on the table. From the way he's looking at him, Kurt'spretty sure it's not the first time the question has been asked, and he shakes himself out of his reverie, quickly gathering the papers onto a heap.

"Yeah... sure... of course. Sorry."

He doesn't see the look of hurt that crosses Blaine's face as he carries the stack of papers to Blaine's desk, and by the time he returns Blaine is smiling his signature smile again, loading food on each of their plates.

"Did you-"

"Took 'em," Blaine interrupts, and if Kurt felt any sort of pride for having gathered the courage to actually ask the question, he can hardly hold on to it when relief over Blaine's words washes over him, and Kurt would kick himself for it if he could. He tries to hide his distress by opening the fridge, hoping Blaine won't notice his sudden silence, and when he sees the small bottle of white wine sitting in the door, he doesn't hesitate.

"You too?" he asks, holding up the bottle, but he's not surprised when Blaine shakes his head - as far as Kurt knows he hasn't touched a drop of alcohol ever since thát night, and even if he thinks it's a little exaggerated, on some level he finds it reassuring, too.

He pours himself a glass before putting the bottle back, and moves back to the table. The silence between them stretches on, becoming heavier with every second that passes, and Kurt realizes it's not just because of him, that Blaine is probably waiting for him to say something. But he can't - not yet. At least when he walked in on Blaine sorting through his meds it was something he could have known, should have expected. But this - this is anything but expected.

"So, what do you think?" Blaine asks suddenly, doing that pretend-casual thing again.

"T-think?" Kurt stammers, caught off-guard, glad he didn't drop his fork and praying inwardly that Blaine doesn't mean what he thinks he means. "Think about what?"

"The internships," Blains says, cocking his head towards his desk. "Do you think it's a good idea?"

Kurt stuffs a forkful of food in his mouth, trying to postpone having to answer even if he knows he can't avoid it.

"Mmm..." he finally says, swallowing. "It's... eh... good, I guess. Internship always looks good on a CV. I don't- I don't know any of the... eh... organizations, but I'm sure they all have good reputations - I mean, they must have, if you chose them."

Blaine nods curtly, focusing his attention back on the plate in front of him, and Kurt can tell he's disappointed in Kurt's answer. Seeing as Kurt shares the sentiment, he can't exactly blame him, but right now he can't - he just can't.

They eat the rest of their meal in silence, the only sounds the ticking of their cutlery against their plates. After they've cleaned up Blaine suggests watching a movie, and Kurt doesn't protest, curling up by himself on one end of the couch as Blaine picks a DVD and makes himself comfortable as well. Really, Kurt just wants to go back to his room but fear that Blaine might think he's angry at him makes him stay, even though he's hardly paying attention to the screen. He just needs time to think, first, he decides, and then he'll talk to Blaine about it - then he'll be able to ask the right questions and give the right responses.

Tomorrow.

Or the day after that.

But he will. He will.

-o0o-

"So how's the boyfriend doing? Kurt, was it?"

Brad looks sideways at Blaine from across the little table they're sitting at. It's a beautiful autumn day, one of the last, no doubt, so when Brad had texted half an hour earlier to ask if Blaine felt like grabbing a drink somewhere, Blaine hadn't hesitated. If he had known this was the kind of questions Brad deemed acceptable conversation starters, however, he might have reconsidered it.

"He's not my boyfriend," he says, staring straight ahead as he takes a sip from his coke. "Not anymore."

"He's not?" Brad sounds honestly surprised. "Because I was sure I was about to spontaneously combust with the way he was looking at me that day in the supermarket."

Despite himself, Blaine can't help but smile a little at the memory - Kurt had made it very clear he didn't agree with Blaine letting Brad back into his life, and even if Blaine wasn't particularly fond of an upset Kurt, the indignant, almost possessive way in which Kurt had voiced his opinion had been strangely endearing.

"Yes, well, he can get a little... protective, sometimes."

He glances at Brad, who smiles back at him mischievously.

"Well then, lucky me, I guess," he says, wiggling his eyebrows as he leans back into his chair, and Blaine shoots him a confused look.

"Lucky you?" he asks, eyebrows raised. It earns him a playful laugh.

"Blaine, do you remember what I told you last time I saw you? In the kitchen right before we went back to the party?"

When Blaine turns his head to look at Brad the intensity with which the other man looks him over is all it takes to make his cheeks flush red. And just like that he's sixteen again, flustered but excited and just a little bit scared at being checked out so openly by a man - and quite a handsome man, too, at that.

"You said I was cute," he smiles, glancing down as he licks his lips. It had probably just been a line, he had realized later, but he remembered that moment vividly, the way it had made him feel larger than life. "You said I would grow up to be a heartbreaker."

"That I did," Brad nods gravely, and he couldn't have looked more serious if they'd been discussing world hunger, "but as it turns out I was wrong."

Blaine chuckles.

"Sorry to disappoint?" he apologizes jokingly. "Is it the gel? I bet it's the gel. Kurt's always nagging me about the gel."

But Brad just starts laughing again.

"Oh no, it's not the gel," he says, grinning. "Although Kurt does have a point. No, my dear boy: you, you have exceeded my expectations. You're not a heartbreaker - you're a life ruiner."

It's Blaine's turn to laugh now, and he shakes his head as he looks at Brad.

"A life ruiner?" he asks mockingly, cocking an eyebrow. "Seriously, Brad? Were your pick-up lines that bad back then as well, because if they were I'm terribly disappointed in my 16-year-old self."

"I usually have excellent pick-up lines," Brad shoots back, not in the least bit insulted, "which really is all the more proof that you are, in fact, a life ruiner. I bet anytime you walk into a club half of the guys there wanna be you. Because the other half want to do you. I'd be in the second group, by the way, in case you're wondering."

It's enough to send Blaine in another laughing fit, and he's suddenly glad he came out today anyway - his ego is certainly getting a boost out of it all.

"I wouldn't know," he says, still smiling, "I don't go to clubs. And I definitely don't let guys 'do me'."

The look Brad sends him is pure shock.

"You don't- but...why? That's... that's..."

For the first time in the conversation, Brad honestly seems at a loss for words.

"That's blasphemy!"

"Blasphemy?" Blaine asks with a huff, eyebrows raised and feeling positively entertained now. "Care to elaborate on that, because I feel like I'm missing something here."

"Because... seriously - just look at you!" Brad exasperates, gesturing animatedly towards Blaine. "I admit I can't be sure what you're hiding under that sweater, but I know damn well how it looked like five years ago and if it matured like the rest of you... I mean -damn, Blaine. And you're keeping it from the entire gay community! If you had a boyfriend I'd understand, I mean, then at least one guy would be able to enjoy all that. But you... you... why? Just... why?"

Blaine takes a sip from his juice, casting Brad a sideway glance.

"Because I don't," he says calmly. "I don't do dating and I definitely don't do hook-ups. I just... don't feel comfortable. I know it's weird."

He smiles at Brad, who seems a little dumbfounded, waiting for the reaction he knows will come. Incredulity, surprise, ridicule... - he's heard it all. But it just isn't an option, not as far as he is concerned. First Jeremiah's insults and accusations had left him extremely self-conscious about anything sex-related and after he'd fallen for Kurt nobody had really been able to compare, even if Gary had suggested dating would be the best way to try to get over Kurt. But how would he have been supposed to tell a stranger that he was HIV positive if he couldn't even work up the courage to tell Kurt?

"Not... weird, necessarily," Brad says slowly, deliberately, as he seizes up Blaine. "A bit of a shame, really, if you ask me. Or, yeah, a big shame, but not... no, not weird. Just... surprising, I guess. So, you've never... you've seriously never- not with- not with anyone but me?"

Blaine shakes his head. Technically he's had sex with Kurt, too, of course, but seeing as he doesn't even remember that, he doesn't think it counts.

"Nope."

Brad raises his eyebrows, nodding to himself as he processes the information, and they sit in silence for a moment.

"So..." Brad starts again, sounding quite a bit more hesitant than he had before. "Feel free to tell me if I'm overstepping here, but is that why you and Kurt broke up? Because you didn't want to..."

For a moment, Blaine is confused, until he catches on to what Brad is implying.

"Oh no," he says quickly, eager to correct Brad. "No, no, it's not... it's not like I don't want to have sex, I do. I think. I'm- I mean, it scares the living hell out of me, especially after-"

He catches himself, suddenly realizing what he was about to say and wondering whether or not he even wants to explain. Brad's still essentially a stranger, after all - he'd tagged along to a couple of the support group sessions, and he's stopped by to listen to Blaine's cover band the Sunday before, but this is really the first time they've talked about more than just the weather and their respective college woes.

The reality of it all, however, is that Blaine doesn't really have many people to talk to about this. The support group, obviously. Gary. And that's it. There is simply nobody else who even knows he's positive. And really, hadn't this been exactly one of the reasons why he'd wanted to stay in touch with Brad? Because if anyone would understand...

"We went out to a friend's party one night, Kurt and I," he starts after a moment's hesitation, trying to keep his voice neutral, his gaze firmly locked on the street in front of them. "And I... I got drunk. Very drunk. Which apparently makes me handsy. And Kurt... I knew he was getting frustrated - we'd been dating for over two months at that point and I was running out of excuses to take things slow, I knew I'd have to tell him soon. But I just... I couldn't. And that night when we came home I..."

He huffs, running his hands over his face, his heartbeat speeding up from the simple memory of that night.

"God, it was all so stupid. I don't even remember what happened, I was that out of it, but I woke up the next morning and we were both naked and- ... god, I was so stupid! I was just so, so stupid."

He lets his head fall into his hands, elbows on his knees, rubbing his face before he turns towards Brad, his temple resting on his fisted hands and a sad smile playing around his lips.

"What is the right expression here - once bitten, twice shy?"

"Is he ok?" Brad ignores his question, and Blaine can see him close his eyes in relief for just a second when he nods.

"I dragged him to the hospital as soon as I realized what had happened. I still only told him once we were actually there - he must have been terrified during the taxi drive but I just couldn't... I kept hoping we'd pull up at the hospital and I'd wake up. But they got him on PEP straight away, he had his last test about three months ago, and he's... he's fine. Physically, at least."

"You're blaming yourself."

It's not a question, and Blaine lets out a little self-deprecating laugh.

"Well, let's see..." he says, tilting his head and tapping his chin with his finger, "I am the positive one, I'm the one who didn't have the balls to inform my partner about that, I'm the one who let himself get so drunk I forgot I wasn't supposed to have sex, ... yeah, I'm pretty sure it's all Kurt's fault, really."

"So you're blaming me for being HIV positive?" Brad asks innocently, and Blaine rolls his eyes.

"Of course not! That was a completely different situation, we'd both been drinking-"

"By the sounds of it that part doesn't seem to be so different," Brad interjects, and Blaine shoots him a glare.

"-and you didn't even know you had it," he finishes his sentence.

"Oh yes," Brad says sarcastically, nodding in understanding, "because of course you only need to use a condom when you're sure one of you is HIV positive. I'll remember that."

"You know that's not what I meant," Blaine grumbles, staring straight ahead, absently turning his glass between his fingers. "All I'm saying is that we were both at fault."

"And all I'm saying is that you seem to have some weird double standard going on," Brad says in an accusing tone, and Blaine can feel his eyes burning in the side of his head. "And you need to get rid of it if you want him back. Or - I'm assuming you wanthim back?"

He gives Blaine an inquisitive look, and Blaine huffs, smiling wistfully, wondering for a brief moment how their friends see him if even a near stranger can see how he feels about Kurt.

"I try not to count on it," he says, placing his elbows on his knees, his chin propped onto his hands, still avoiding Brad's gaze. "He's been my best friend for almost three years, and I've been in love with him for the better part of that. But he feels like he can't trust me anymore, and I can't exactly blame him, can I? I basically lied to him from the day we met. I've made the worst mistake anyone in a relationship can make, and then some. Not to mention- god, just the idea of possibly hurting him again is just... Really, all things considered I'm lucky to still be able to even call him my friend. Though even that is hard."

He turns his head to Brad, a sad smile around his lips.

"He's trying, I know he is. But it's so difficult even to just talk. He thinks I don't see how he tries to avoid having to see me take my meds, but I do, and I don't know whether to call him out on it and make him talk to me or let him find his own way through. But yeah... hope springs eternal, I guess."

"What will you do if he decides not to come back?"

There's no malice in Brad's voice, but Blaine still feels pushed into defense.

"Then I'll wait," he says, looking up at Brad now, defiantly. For a couple of seconds they're just staring at each other, but then Brad stands up abruptly, taking his coat from where it was hanging over the back of his chair as he jerks his chin towards Blaine, gesturing for him to get up.

"Up!" he says. "Let's get rid of that martyr complex of yours."

"We're... what?" Blaine asks, confused, even though he still follows Brad's example and shrugs on his coat. "Where are we going?"

"Out!" Brad replies cheerfully, not paying any attention to the taken aback expression on Blaine's face.

"Eh... Brad... it's three in the afternoon."

But Brad just grins, leaning towards Blaine just a little.

"You do know why they call New York 'the city that never sleeps', right?" he asks, a mischievous light burning in his eyes. "That's because there's always a party going on. Always. Now come on!"

"But I don't want to go to a club!"

It comes out less authoritative than he had intended it to, but Blaine's shout still serves its purpose because Brad stops in his tracks, turning around to face Blaine.

"Blaine, I'm not trying to get you do something stupid, okay?" he says, and with a few steps he's right in front of Blaine, placing his hands on his shoulders. "I'm not gonna get you drunk and I'm not gonna try to get in your pants. Though, you know, just say the word and I will."

He winks playfully, and Blaine can't help but laugh a little. Brad's little come-ons are getting increasingly ridiculous, and while Blaine is sure it's nothing more than a game by now, there's an underlying sincerity that makes him feel warm - cherished, almost.

"Look, all that waiting for Kurt is all very nice and romantic and all, but I don't think it's healthy to let your happiness depend on him. Not for you, and not for him either. It's definitely not healthy to let your peace of mind depend on him. I know firsthand how important it is to have the other person forgive you, but you need to forgive you as well, you know? You can't keep blaming yourself and you can't keep punishing yourself."

He's not just talking about Kurt anymore, Blaine knows, and he nods, dropping his head. He knows Brad is right - knows that he can't live the rest of his life blaming himself for the mistakes he's made, but he simply doesn't know how to do it differently, how to take responsibility without taking the blame, too.

"I just... I feel like I keep making the same mistake, you know?" he says quietly. "I was so careful after what happened between us and then first occasion I let my guard down I screw up even harder than before. And I can't... I can't screw up a third time, Brad. I simply can't."

"Hey... no worries," Brad winks playfully, giving him a little shove against his shoulder. "I'll take care of you, alright? I've done it before..."

"And look how that turned out," Blaine quips. He doesn't mean it, not really, not after he's had four years to come to terms with it, not after Brad had apologized extensively and publicly in the support group when he'd come along that first time, and he feels a little lighter already simply by being able to joke about it. Brad still wants to make sure though, it appears, because he lifts Blaine's chin with two fingers, wordlessly asking him to look at him.

"Hey - we've talked about this, right? You know I would never have gone bareback if I'd thought there was a risk. My last test had come back negative, you were a virgin, I didn't have any condoms at hand... I never planned to actually sleep with you, it all just sorta happened. I thought we were safe, I really did. And after Gary told me about you... I never wanted this to happen, Blaine. Not for me, and definitely not for you. But there's nothing I can do now. There's nothing I can change. We're sentenced to life, you and I. But not to death, Blaine, not to death. We're no dead men walking, and I'm not going to let it ruin my life. And I'm not gonna allow you to let it ruin yours either."

He lets go of Blaine and takes a deep breath.

"Just... come out with me. Have fun. You seem to think you need to be some sort of super-responsible martyr, but you don't. You really don't. It's perfectly fine to let go, once in a while. As long as you know your boundaries. And yeah, you'll make mistakes, but everybody does. You just drew the short straw, okay?"

Blaine knows he's gonna give in. He knew he was gonna give in the moment Brad got up, and not just because he's 21 and he's never been in a club before.

"One hour, Blaine," Brad says, clearly feeling that Blaine needs a little more convincing, looking at him with eyes that hold equal parts challenge and mischief. "Give me one hour and I promise I will never again try to get you to come out if you don't want to."

It's a little past three, Blaine sees when he checks his watch, so he figures he can probably tag along with Brad for an hour, and still make it home before Kurt gets there.

"One hour," he says sternly, holding up a finger at Brad, trying his best not to smile when he sees Brad's victorious grin. "You get one hour and then I'm out of wherever you're taking me. And you're buying."

-o0o-

When Kurt gets home around four thirty Blaine is nowhere to be found, but it isn't until an hour later, when he's debating whether or not to start making dinner yet, that he starts feeling something is off. Blaine is usually home on Thursday afternoons, and when he's not he'll always text Kurt to tell him where he's at and when he'll be back.

Always.

Hi, this is Blaine Anderson. It seems I'm busy but leave a message and I'll get back to you!

The call Kurt makes goes straight to voice mail and he leaves a message instead, sending a text too just in case Blaine's not able to listen to the voice mail for whichever reason. Blaine needs his dinner, he needs his meds, and however uneasy Kurt still feels about them he really needs to know Blaine has taken them because he needs those pills, too, needs them to do what he can't: keep the virus under control.

Blaine has a one hour tolerance for taking his pills, but six thirty comes and goes with no word from him, and that's when Kurt has to restrain himself from panicking. Gary doesn't seem in the least bit concerned when Kurt calls him, assuring Kurt that Blaine is well aware of the importance of taking his medication on time and that it would take a small catastrophe to keep him from remembering. It only partly calms him down, however, because it still doesn't tell him where Blaine is and why he's not picking up his phone.

Hi, this is Blaine Anderson. It seems I'm busy but leave a message and I'll get back to you!

Kurt eats his dinner alone on the couch. He contemplates for a moment to tell Nick he can't make it to their weekly fitness date, but it's Thursday, which means that if Blaine isn't lying in a hospital somewhere he'll probably be at the support meeting by now anyway. Kurt still leaves a note on the kitchen table before he leaves, just in case, taking his phone with him instead of leaving it at the apartment as he usually does.

He manages to coax Nick into going for a drink afterwards, hoping it might do what 45 minutes of running couldn't - make him forget his worries about Blaine. If Nick notices he's more than a bit out of it, he doesn't say anything, and Kurt is grateful for that, at least, and they talk about everything but Blaine as Kurt tries to postpone going home as long as he can to give Blaine the chance to get there before he does. But when Kurt finally makes it home over three hours later the house is dark and the note on the table lies untouched.

Hi, this is Blaine Anderson. It seems I'm busy but leave a message and I'll get back to you!

There's half a container of ice cream left in the freezer and Kurt takes it out, trying to push away the memory of the day they bought it. He's worked up enough as it is, and the image of Blaine hugging the guy who got them into this mess in the first place is something he really just doesn't want to think about right now. Instead he snuggles down in the couch, a fleece blanket around his shoulders and the container of ice cream held firmly between his knees as he tries to concentrate on some Grey's Anatomy episodes he hadn't caught up on yet, his mobile phone silent on the coffee table in front of him.

He must have fallen asleep somewhere between the second and the third episode, because the next thing Kurt is aware of is the sound of a key scratching against the lock of their door and laughing voices which suddenly become louder as the door opens with a bang, slamming against the wall and making Kurt jump.

"Say it," he hears an unfamiliar voice say as he scrambles up, "I want to hear you say it."

There's another giggle in response, and this giggle he knows, this giggle he would recognize anywhere, but he still freezes after he climbs out of the couch and takes the few steps to look into the hallway.

"Blaine?"