They eat their cereal that morning at the tiny kitchen table in silence, only ever occasionally letting their eyes meet. It's a strained silence, but it isn't awkward and to Kurt it's kind of enjoyable. It's been a long time since he's had someone to sit down with and eat breakfast. Sure, he's had an odd guy or two over to stay the night but they always left when the sun rose and he'd end up waking to a cold, empty bed.

When they finish, Blaine's the one that takes their empty bowls over to the sink and does the dishes. Kurt doesn't really know what to do while he washes them, so he busies himself by taking the blanket and pillow at the end of the couch and putting them back in his bedroom where they belong. When he comes back out, Blaine is changing clothes in the bathroom so Kurt slumps onto the sofa and picks up the remote, turning the TV on to some channel that's showing everyone how to make a proper apple pie. Kurt almost snorts at the simplicity. He hasn't baked in a long time, not since he was with his old boyfriend, but not because he doesn't enjoy it anymore, he does.

He just hasn't had anyone to bake for.

Blaine comes out of the bathroom and seats himself tentatively next to Kurt on the sofa. They aren't even that close, but Kurt can feel the heat from Blaine's thigh and Blaine's arm and there's this faint scent of cinnamon and something a bit more masculine dabbed on his neck. Kurt changes the channel.

"Tired of yelling at me, I suppose?" Blaine speaks, one corner of his lips turned up in a slight grin.

"For now."

"Good to hear," Blaine says, eyes on the TV as Kurt flips through the channels. "So what're you doing today?"

"Nothing," Kurt shrugs, finally settling on a rerun of Extreme Makeover Home Edition. "I don't have to work today."

Blaine nods, their eyes still not meeting. "Did you wanna go get a drink or something later tonight then?"

"Oh, uh…I can't. I'm singing at this place tonight. Not until later, though. But I don't have anything to do until then."

"You still sing?" Blaine asks, an odd light in his eyes as he finally turns his head to face Kurt.

"Occasionally."

Blaine smiles and Kurt's pulse stutters, then races. "That's awesome," Blaine says.

"You don't sing anymore?" Kurt wonders. "Besides in the shower?"

A bit of color rises to Blaine's cheeks. "Does the car count?"

"I don't think so."

"Then no, I guess."

"But you can still sing. If your shower performance last night was any proof," Kurt comments.

Blaine gives a small shrug and turns his attention back to the TV. "Sure. I just…don't."

"Can you still play the guitar and the piano?" Kurt feels the need to ask.

"Yeah," Blaine tells him. "I just didn't want to bring my guitar with me. I didn't know what kind of places I'd be staying so I didn't want to chance it getting stolen or something."

Kurt nods, they fall silent, and Kurt gets lost in a few memories. He remembers seeing Blaine play the guitar for the first time, Dalton blazer slung over a chair, tie loose and a few of the top buttons on his shirt had been undone. Blaine had sat on his bed, strumming a few chords and singing along when Kurt had walked in without knocking because they used to be really good friends and they never knocked unless it was closer to curfew. Blaine had looked up at him, a little shocked, as if he'd been caught doing something dangerous or illegal, but Kurt seated himself on Blaine's desk chair and begged him to continue playing. Blaine did.

Jesus fuck, Kurt curses himself. He has got to stop remembering things like that because it's seriously driving him a little crazy and making him a lot more frustrated than he was ten minutes ago. But he can't help it when he turns his head to gaze upon Blaine's profile, his jaw a bit more angular and there are a few more little crinkles around his eyes. Kurt vaguely remembers their presence on seventeen year old Blaine's face when he used to smile so hard that Kurt thought his face might hurt.

Suddenly, he's overcome with this echo of pain, this imprint of a five year old heartbreak and in that very second he knows it's all Blaine fucking Anderson's fault. Kurt knows he's jaded and he knows life isn't as romanticized as he used to see it. He knows he swears and he knows he smokes and he knows he doesn't let anyone get close to him anymore. He also knows that he doesn't let that happen because of this man, who'd been a boy with him once, who'd clawed his way under Kurt's skin and dug into his muscles and Kurt would be lying if Blaine hadn't been residing in his fucking bones since then.

"You left me a flower," Kurt says eventually, softly, more like an exhale. And he instantly wants to take the statement back because he's not sure, despite his anger from the night before, if he's ready to talk about this.

Blaine lowers his head, closes his eyes, and nods.

"A Forget Me Not," Blaine whispers his reply.

"It was beautiful."

"Relevant, I'd say. Apropos," Blaine says.

"It died a few weeks after you left," Kurt informs him.

"I didn't think it'd live forever."

And the statement makes Kurt want to cry because it means so many things, could be taken so many ways, but he doesn't. He hasn't cried in a very long time. He doesn't plan on starting again now.

"You…I haven't been the same."

"I haven't either," Blaine says.

"You broke my heart," Kurt confesses and he hates himself for sounding so damn weak.

"I broke my own," Blaine tells him.

Kurt inhales sharply but he doesn't make a sound. He doesn't know whether to believe him or not because…he left. He just left. And he never came back and he never called and he never wrote and Kurt wasn't right for so long after that day. He had become depressed and withdrawn. His friends had tried to bring him out of it and eventually they succeeded, but Kurt's heart became a little bit harder and he redoubled his effective, sarcastic bite.

Kurt didn't know if he could ever forgive Blaine Anderson for any of that.

But he couldn't sit here, next to him on the couch in his almost dingy apartment, and pretend like none of it meant anything. Even if it never meant as much to Blaine as it did to him. So he swallows a bit of bile in his throat and attempts to calm his racing heart before speaking once more.

"Let's go get coffee."

Kurt drags Blaine to the coffee shop he works at and a few of his coworkers give him sneaky smiles and some even give him a thumbs up which makes Kurt shake his head. When they have their drinks, they sit outside so that Kurt can smoke a cigarette. He's pretty sure he sees Blaine make a face when Kurt takes his first drag, but he purposefully ignores it.

"So what did you plan on seeing while you were here in LA?" Kurt thinks to ask because he really has no idea what Blaine's going to do.

"Don't know," Blaine admits, taking a sip of his scalding hot mocha. "Figured I'd just wander around and go into some place that interests me."

"You never were a pre-planner."

"I've always liked a bit of spontaneity," Blaine agrees. "Hence why I hopped on a plane with only a backpack."

"I have no idea how you packed all of you essentials in only a backpack," Kurt mutters. "I'd die."

Blaine smiles a bit and shrugs. "You never were the most concise packer."

And because Kurt couldn't sit there and let every conversation turn into 'you never were', he offers to take Blaine around this part of the city and show him what he knows. Blaine agrees and Kurt shows him the coffee house he'll be singing at later that night and he shows him his favorite places to eat. He shows him places where he's spotted a few movie stars and he shows him where he likes to shop and where he hangs out with his friends on occasion. He shows him this old movie theatre that he loves and he points out a street corner where he got caught in a massive downpour once.

It isn't a lot. He doesn't have some kind of outrageous, exciting life and he doesn't have memories set in stone the way he'd had them with Blaine when he was seventeen. But Blaine seems to enjoy the impromptu tour anyhow, and he's laughing and smiling and Kurt takes a bit of pride in the fact that he can still make Blaine laugh like that, loud and carefree.

They have a short lunch at a local pizza place in between it all but eventually they have to head back home because Kurt needs to get ready to go to the coffee house to sing.

"You can uh…you can stay here if you want," Kurt says to Blaine once they're inside his apartment again. "Or you can go out and do whatever. It doesn't matter to me. I can give you the spare key."

"Can I come listen to you sing?" Blaine asks with a tilt of his curly head.

Oh.

For some reason Kurt hadn't even thought of that option and he's a little surprised that Blaine wants to tag along.

"Um sure," Kurt replies. "If you want."

"I'd like to," Blaine says.

When Kurt wanders into his room to change his clothes, he realizes his chest is a little tight and his cheeks are a little warm. He gets frustrated when he feels like he has nothing to wear even though all of his clothes are clean and he likes his wardrobe.

He hates the fact that he wants to impress Blaine and he hates the fact that Blaine's honey hazel eyes can set him alight with one, precious little head tilt.