The next day, Kurt has to work and he apologizes to Blaine for leaving him alone.

"Kurt, it's fine. I can find something to do. I wasn't expecting you to be here anyway, I'd have been alone."

"But now I feel like you're my guest and it's my job to keep you entertained."

"Not at all," Blaine says, washing out their empty cereal bowls just like the day before. "Don't worry about me."

Kurt tries not to. He's working a double shift today though, so he gives Blaine his spare key and says he'll see him later, much later. Blaine takes it with a smile and Kurt leaves, thinking back on the conversation they'd had the night before. Why did he have to admit that? Why did he tell Blaine the truth? What bizarre power did Blaine have over his fucking conscience, over that filter from mind to mouth? And why did Blaine look at him with such…sorrow, such grief, such pained eyes?

All Kurt wanted to do was close the space between them, under the yellow light of that streetlamp that made Blaine look so sad, and kiss that look away.

He didn't, though, of course not. That would have been completely out of character.

Because he isn't the type of person who does that anymore.

He isn't they type of person to give in, to let himself have things, to close that space.

It's too hot today.

He slides into the cool, artificial air of the coffee shop and nods to Caroline at the counter before disappearing into the back to clock in.

"So who was that guy?" Caroline asks when he wanders back out.

"A friend," Kurt explains shortly.

"Just a friend?"

"That's all he'll ever be," Kurt states.

"But that's not all he ever was."

"No," Kurt admits. "It's not."

"Damn, you…are you okay?" Caroline wonders when she finally gets a good look at Kurt's face. Kurt knows his eyes are sunken and he knows he looks tired and maybe even a little miserable. "You look – I don't know."

Kurt shrugs and turns to the customer at the counter to take her order, writing her name on the appropriate cup and handing it to Caroline to make.

"How long ago were you guys…"

"Five years ago," Kurt answers. "He moved to Germany with his parents."

"Rough breakup?" she asks while waiting for the espresso to drip.

"You could say that," Kurt nodded.

"You loved him." It isn't a question in the slightest.

"Of course I loved him. But he broke it off, saying it was too hard and that he couldn't handle being apart. We ran into each other, literally, two days ago after my shift."

"And now?" Caroline asks, handing the cup to the female customer.

"Now what?"

"Do you still love him?"

"I…" Kurt hates that he pauses, hates the fact that he doesn't have a clear cut answer to such a seemingly simplistic question.

But it isn't simple at all, not really.

Because having Blaine around infuriates him. Having Blaine sleep on his couch confuses him. Talking with Blaine and seeing Blaine smile makes him feel…whole again. But it's been so long, way too long, and he still doesn't know why Blaine refused to talk to him for five straight years. And Kurt resents him for showing up in LA and throwing him off track, leaving him bereft and baffled when they're not in the same room.

"I don't know," he finally tells his friend.

She nods and he's grateful when she doesn't speak of it anymore.

When he gets home that night, his feet hurt and he's tired as shit. Blaine isn't anywhere to be seen, but his backpack is still sitting at the end of the couch on the floor, so Kurt thinks he must be out somewhere. He takes a shower, letting the hot water scald his still-pale skin and wash away the ache in his legs. He notices that Blaine hasn't left any of his belongings in the shower, no travel sized bottles of shampoo or body wash so Kurt assumes Blaine has been using his own products.

The thought makes him smile for some reason.

He gets out of the shower and dries himself off, wrapping his towel around his hips as he pads over to the sink so he can shave. He really doesn't have that much facial hair. He never did and he probably never would have scruff like Blaine but Kurt's okay with that. When he's done, he washes off his razor and sets it aside, opening the bathroom door and flicking off the light.

He doesn't expect Blaine to walk through his front door at the same time.

Kurt freezes, as does Blaine. Blaine lets his eyes linger on Kurt's naked chest and stomach, smooth and defined and just as pale as ever. He sees Blaine's Adam's apple bob as he swallows to wet his, most likely very dry, throat. Kurt's hand flies down to grip tightly at his towel.

"Uh…sorry," Blaine says quickly, averting his gaze and then trails his eyes back to Kurt's chest once more. "Sorry." He finally shuts the door behind him.

"You've seen me in plenty less," Kurt quips, though he's feeling just as…ruffled by the situation as Blaine seems to be.

Blaine clears his throat and drags his eyes away from Kurt, setting the spare key on the small kitchen table.

"Right," Blaine mumbles, fishing his wallet and phone out of his pockets to toss them on the table as well.

Kurt can't help but notice how natural such a small action seems and he has a sudden image of Blaine doing that every day, every night, coming home to this almost dingy apartment, too small for two people but somehow they make it work.

Kurt has to physically shake his head to rid himself of the thought.

"I'm just gonna…"

"Yeah," Blaine says, though the word very nearly sounds like a squeak.

Kurt flees to his bedroom, making sure to not slam the door.

What the actual fuck?

He finally puts some clothes on but he can't get the vivid memory of Blaine's eyes out of his head, the way they raked his body up and down, the way they lingered on his shower-beaten chest, the way they darkened and widened with some kind of forlorn hunger.

He has to take a few deep breaths before exiting his room.

Blaine's sitting on the couch, shoes off, and he's flipping through TV channels, legs tucked under and to the side. Kurt seats himself on the opposite end, putting as much space between them as possible.

"How was work?" Blaine asks.

Kurt almost chokes on his own breath. He ends up having a coughing fit and damnit if that question hadn't sounded just as natural as him tossing his wallet on the table had looked earlier.

"Whoa." Blaine lurches over to give Kurt a few hard pats on the back. "Are you okay?"

"Fine," Kurt croaks out. "I'm okay."

"You sure?"

"Yeah," Kurt nods, thankful that Blaine doesn't ask about it again. "Work was fine. Same shit, different day."

"Sounds absolutely thrilling," Blaine grins.

That's when Kurt notices that Blaine hadn't moved back to his end of the couch yet and he's sitting cross-legged with his knee bumping Kurt's pajama clad thigh. And there's that heat again, radiating from Blaine and seeping into his skin even though there's no skin on skin contact.

"Thrilling indeed," Kurt says. "What did you end up doing?"

"I saw a movie at that old theatre you showed me yesterday. Walked around for a while. I had dinner with Kevin and then we went out and had a beer afterwards."

"Kevin?" Kurt needs clarification. "Guitar Kevin?"

"No. Kevin Bacon," Blaine drawls.

"It's possible in this city," Kurt retorts.

"Yes, guitar Kevin," Blaine says with a small laugh. "He's pretty cool. We talked a lot about guitars and music and stuff."

"Sounds like fun."

"Yeah," Blaine nods, reaching for the remote so he can flip through the channels again. "Didn't know he was gay, though."

Kurt is seething. Anger and jealousy boil their way up in his throat and he has to stop himself from screaming aloud.

"Oh?" is all he says.

"Yeah, you didn't know?" Blaine asks, turning to look at him.

"Never came up," Kurt says shortly.

"Oh. Well he's a nice guy," Blaine shrugs. "It's cool that he plays for you."

"Mmm. So where else did you want to go in California?" Kurt asks, desperate for a change of topic because he doesn't care how cool Kevin is and he doesn't want to hear about him being a nice guy. He's a bit peeved with himself regarding how easily possessive he is of Blaine, even after all this time. But the fact that Kevin isn't unfortunate looking and the fact that he and Blaine already have something in common makes Kurt want shove Kevin off the nearest bridge.

"Oh uh…well, I've been to San Francisco before, so I ruled that one out. But I think I'd like to see the Napa Valley wine country," Blaine informs him.

"You like wine?"

"I love wine," Blaine says. "I went to Italy for a couple of weeks on break from school and oh my god, the wine there…" Blaine trails of and just shivers. "So good. I had some wine in France too. We went there for a week over Christmas once."

"I'm glad you got to see so much of the world," Kurt says softly.

He doesn't remind Blaine that he had promised to take Kurt to France, Italy and Spain after they graduated high school. He doesn't remind him that it never happened and he doesn't tell him that Kurt had their trip planned out in a journal that he still keeps in the top of his closet in a shoebox full of things that remind him of Blaine.

"Yeah, it was awesome." Blaine smiles and settles into the couch cushions to watch an episode of Say Yes to the Dress.

Kurt's throat is thick with forgotten nostalgia when he realizes that Blaine doesn't remember making that promise.

"Oh," Blaine speaks again. "Kevin wants to know if you and I want to grab drinks tomorrow night at some club or bar somewhere."

And Kurt wants to say no. He wants to say fuck you and your newfound love affair and fuck the horse you seem to have rode in on and fuck your guitar and your wine and you beautifully tragic eyes.

But he doesn't. Because if he isn't there then Kevin might take Blaine away from him even though Blaine isn't his, isn't staying, doesn't love him, doesn't remember his promise, and isn't in his bed between his sheets in his arms and all around him.

"Sure."

Kurt's chest feels hopelessly hollow when he crawls into bed that night.