Say something, Im giving up on you
Ill be the one, if you want me to…

Im sorry that I couldnt get to you
Anywhere, I wouldve followed you
Say something, Im giving up on you

‘Say Something' by ‘A Great Big World'

Kurt finally got blinds.
When he had moved in he had visions of curtains – deep, purple and blackout style, but when it came to buying, as he perused the shop on his own, he chose blinds. James helped install them, drilling little holes where the poles could be inserted as Kurt made breakfast.
“Fuck.” James' hand retracted and he shook it in an attempt to relieve the pain.
“Are you ok?”
“Yeah, fucking thing…”
James returned to the pole that was causing him grief, he finally wiggled it into the hole and it stayed.
“I made pancakes,” Kurt said looking up at the half finished blinds. “Have a break.”
“I can't Kurt, I'm busy.”
Kurt said nothing after James snapped, but eventually wandered to the kitchen table. He munched a measly bite as he watched James continue to struggle. He had wanted to help, but he knew just a single suggestion might send James over the edge. He battled with eating his pancakes until he could fight no longer and decided to get up to change. James barely noticed him. It was only as he went to leave early for a rehearsal that James turned around.
“Where are you going?”
“Work,” Kurt said, slightly startled at the abrupt tone. “I said I'd help Patty rehearse some lines before the rest arrived.” James digested the lie, nodding slightly.
“When will you be home?”
“About four, I think.”
“What time will you be home?” James repeated, sterner and Kurt swallowed.
“Four,” Kurt said slightly stronger, “I'll be here at four.”
James nodded, a slight smile on his face at his achievement. He returned to the blinds and Kurt slipped out.
He sighed as the door closed behind him and he felt lighter, realising that he was free, even if only for a little while. Eyes fixed on his lighter footfall and the certain solid steps below his feet, he didn't notice someone was blocking his way out of the main door.
He collided with the warm solid chest in front of him and was startled backwards.
“Blaine?”
“Sorry I didn't mean to bump into you, I thought you saw…”
“Blaine!” Kurt interrupted. “You can't be here.”
Blaine's eyes widened. “What do you…”
Kurt quickly pulled him properly into the apartment building. “You can't be here. James could see from the window, he's fixing our blinds.”
“You got blinds?”
“That's not the point, he can't see you. I said I was going to rehearsal.”
“And you aren't?”
Kurt couldn't admit he had lied to his boyfriend so he said nothing.
“This is ridiculous Kurt,” Blaine said. “You can't live like this. He shouldn't be able to tell you who you can be friends with.”
“I know, I know, it'll blow over, we'll be sorted soon.”
Blaine sighed. “I was going to wait for you and see if you wanted coffee. Do you have time for coffee?”
Kurt looked visibly torn. There was nothing he wanted more, but he knew James could watch from the window, would ask him about his day and seeing Blaine would mean lying. He swallowed against the rising bile and nodded.
“I have time for coffee.”
Blaine's face visibly brightened and Kurt felt a swoop in his stomach that he mattered to at least one person. It was a nice change.
“But we have to be careful. You should leave first, meet me at the end of the street and I'll leave behind you.”
“Kurt…”
“Blaine just do it, I'll explain later.”
Blaine nodded and turned to leave, until Kurt touched his elbow.
“Thank you,” he whispered, Blaine's kind eyes shining as the light from the open door came in.
“No problem.”
Blaine walked out, quickly trying to get to the end of the street and Kurt, leaving at least a minute gap, counting to himself as the seconds went by, went out the apartment building too. James was still struggling at the windows as he noticed Kurt and wondered what had taken him so long to leave the apartment when he had vaguely remembered him leaving a while ago. His eyes travelled to the end of the street and he spied a jacketed guy with dark hair that looked suspiciously like Blaine though he had only glimpsed him through his apartment window.

Blaine looked visibly relieved when Kurt met him around the corner, but he said nothing. They walked for a while in silence, Kurt letting it wash over him, no longer a silence that was menacing or ominous. It was the comfortable silence of friends, with no expectations or failures. But as they entered the familiar coffee shop and ordered their usual, Blaine stared at Kurt, his honey brown eyes warm and kind—almost too much for Kurt who felt on edge.
“Are you ok?” Blaine asked.
“What do you mean?”
“I worry about you Kurt,” Blaine said. The idea that Kurt didn't know broke his heart. He came forward, implored with his eyes. “You threatened to shut me out of your life after your boyfriend hit you.” Kurt visibly flinched at the whispered words and closed his eyes. “I can't sit opposite you, in that apartment across the street and let that happen to you.”
“Blaine, really I'm fine…”
“No,” Blaine snapped, his hand coming out in a straight line as if to say it was final. “It is not fine. What he did is not fine.”
Kurt was shocked, his eyes widen, but he couldn't say anything. It is the first time someone had confirmed what he knew to be true, but the thought of having to act, of having to say something makes him repeatedly blink against the tears burning his eyes. Blaine seems to understand his struggle and his expression is no longer angry and determined. He reached out a tentative hand, touched Kurt's where it rested on the table between them and smiled in acceptance of Kurt's effort. Kurt felt so cold there in the coffee shop; Blaine's hand was instantly warm and comforting. He knew he should remove his own from the table, but he needed this one act of kindness and they stay like that for over a minute.
“I know,” Kurt whispered, the words a struggle of acceptance themselves. “I know that what he did was wrong.”
Blaine nodded, smiling so small, taking only a tiny amount of satisfaction in the admittance.
“He didn't mean to do it, I guess he got angry. He's never done that before.”
“He seems pretty angry, Kurt,” Blaine said quickly, determined that James wouldn't be let off so easily. There were no excuses. Kurt sat forward, needing to be understood.
“But he's not always like that, we've just hit a rough patch. I'm sure when work calms down, he'll be better. We'll spend more time together and it'll be ok.”
Blaine didn't look convinced.
“Look, Blaine, I know you're a friend, probably one of my best actually, but I won't be dumping my boyfriend just because we had an argument. It'll get better, I'm sure.”
Kurt wasn't sure why he was so determined to see the good and hope for the best, but the thought of making a decision or admitting to people that he had made a mistake was galling. A guy being hit by his boyfriend? Not exactly something he wanted to confess. He knew he needed to get out but he would do it in his own time and on his own terms. Kurt sat taller, his gaze fiercely determined and Blaine knew the walls were back up.
“Are you still my friend?” Blaine asked quietly and Kurt had almost forgotten the promise to James. It felt like a stab to an old wound.
“I'll always be your friend.” Kurt's jaw was set. “There's just no point in angering him further. When he calms down about the situation, we'll talk again about it. I'll make it clear that you're still my friend.”
“He won't like it,” Blaine said.
Kurt worried his bottom lip, the only sign that his armour was slipping.
“It'll all blow over and he'll realise he's being ridiculous. He has this possessive need to show that he's my boyfriend, that's all it is. When he really knows that there is nothing between us, he'll calm down, I'm sure.”
Blaine noticed the stock phrase those two words doing nothing to add to Blaine's lack of confidence in James.
“Will you be okay?”
Kurt wasn't sure but he nodded anyway.
“I'll get in touch with you next time,” Kurt said, “I think it'll be best.”
“Can you really see a future with this guy?”
Kurt thought about it. The thought of one day marrying James, a dream he once had many months ago, seemed ridiculous now, but the thought of being alone in that apartment made his heart sink. The good times had always been good—maybe they could get them back again.
“I don't know, I used to,” Kurt said, looking into the dregs of his coffee, expecting answers from the dead froth along the sides.
“Don't sell yourself short, Kurt. You're worth so much more than that.”
“I know,” Kurt said weakly, no longer really believing the statement and already thinking of what lay before him in his apartment.

Rehearsal was effortless, or at least Kurt could go through the motions. Patty played perfectly, her lines tumbling out and making Kurt's job extremely easy and she asked no more questions. Kurt would catch her eye occasionally when she watched him carefully, as if he might suddenly reveal so much more with a single expression. He left quickly at 3.30 without much of a goodbye.
When he entered his apartment it was eerily quiet, though one glance to the windows that normally brought light revealed they were covered with newly fixed blinds. He couldn't tell if James was there, but Kurt couldn't settle until he knew for certain. It seemed suddenly important that James knew he had made it to the apartment on time, as if he would earn brownie points. He dropped his satchel on the floor by the sofa and walked around the apartment without saying a word. He soon discovered James on his bed.
He was leaning on his elbow reading a Broadway magazine, briefly flicking through the pages as if he was bored, waiting for something interesting to come along. He sardonically lifted his eyes to the door when Kurt entered.
“You're home.”
Kurt smiled hopefully and nodded. He wasn't expecting praise, but he was glad he could achieve something, however small. James finally laid the magazine aside.
“How was rehearsal?” James would let him believe everything was fine; he'd ask the inane questions, he'd act just like any other man in a domestic relationship.
“Yeah, it was good,” Kurt said, as he removed his jacket to place in the wardrobe. He briefly admired the colour coordination and the order. By the time he had turned back to face his boyfriend, James had stood. He was now by the bed, his back straight, his gaze fierce.
“Where did you go before your rehearsal?”
Kurt's eyes widened. It was clear from James' face that he was angry, his face full of hard lines, but Kurt didn't know what he thought, he couldn't possibly know. His mind raced, what could he have seen? What could he have discovered?
“I went for a coffee, just a quick one before I arrived.” That was innocent enough, Kurt thought, which was surely okay. His eyes darted, taking in the clues in his body language, ready to act at a moments notice.
“Were you alone?” James' voice was cold, quiet but Kurt didn't know what to say. Had he followed Kurt? Was it better to answer truthfully?
“Of course,” Kurt said, trying to sound confident, though his voice faltered. He walked backwards, without thinking.
“Are you sure?”
Okay, this sounded worse, Kurt was almost certain James knew or suspected something, but he couldn't bring himself to admit. This was his only snippet of freedom. He could keep Blaine to himself, protect him when he couldn't protect himself.
“Of course.” Kurt straightened his back and made to leave, but James was a lot closer than Kurt had assumed. He grabbed his arm, pressing hard with his thumb. Kurt winced.
“You're hurting me.”
“Tell me the truth,” James seethed; he almost spat the words and Kurt could see he was barely keeping it together, his anger almost throbbing in his eyes. “You were with that Blaine. You saw Blaine.”
Kurt saw no reason to deny it, James seemed to know the truth somehow and he was too far-gone. Either answer would be too much. Kurt twisted his arm in an effort to leave James' ever intense grip.
“Tell me,” James shouted, spittle hitting Kurt's face and he closed his eyes in disgust. Kurt let it wash over him, almost imagined he was somewhere else as James repeated the instruction, shouting and demanding. It infuriated James, the lack of answer. It showed a lack of respect when James had been waiting at home, had been assembling their blinds, contributing to their apartment and making their lives better. He gripped Kurt's arm and shouted once more.
He got no answer, Kurt's eyes remaining closed, and really he believed it was the only way to get a response. He slapped Kurt across the face, hardly noticing the split lip, as there was still a wall of silence. Kurt looked almost peaceful, despite the pain to his face. James hit him again, this time higher, nearer his eye and Kurt briefly clenched his eyes tighter against the pain. James was pleased at the reaction. Finally an answer.
But it wasn't enough. James wanted an admission, wanted words, an apology, anything to show Kurt understood. He whacked him again, almost a fist to the temple and as he loosened his grip on Kurt's arm. Kurt slumped to the floor.
For a moment, James thought he might have knocked him out but Kurt rested back on his knees, his hands slumped to his side. His eyes remained closed but Kurt would say nothing. He could feel himself floating above his body, no longer solid, just observing. He could see James kick him in the hip and thigh, felt the dull thud in his own body and felt himself fly, just like that blackbird, he flew away.
James was barking questions, demanding the truth but Kurt never spoke, never gave him the satisfaction. He took the beating until his face fell lower, almost landing on the floor and his breathing became harsher, his ribs crying out in pain, his body bruised and battered. James saw the pathetic body below and realised he had his answer. Kurt hadn't denied it, he'd been out with Blaine, had probably spent a lot of time with him, perhaps even cheated. As Kurt coughed weakly, not strong enough to be of any use, he thought Kurt had received his just punishment and he went to leave the apartment.
Just as he was preparing to perform that evening, Kurt was still kneeling on the carpeted floor, his head lowered. James walked up to him, tilted his head up by the chin, making Kurt see. James didn't seem to care what he had done, there was no remorse there.
“You're mine Kurt,” he said calmly, his eyes softer than before. “I just wish you'd realised that on your own. I can't have Blaine put his lips on you, or his hands. He shouldn't get to have you.”
Kurt whimpered, closing his eyes once again.
“I'm taking your key for your own safety Kurt,” James continued. “I can't trust you not to see Blaine so I'll take your phone too.” As he returned, the door handle reminded James that Kurt could easily walk out. Kurt watched as he meticulously unscrewed the door handle on the inside and placed it in his bag. James returned. “You've done this to yourself Kurt. You made me this angry, I can't have you seeing other people.” Kurt clenched his eyes tighter, causing a single tear to fall. This caught James' attention and he kneeled next to him on the floor. Kurt flinched as it was brushed away—just the tiniest show of affection in half an hour of hell.
“I wish you loved me like I love you,” James whispered. Kurt felt the tears fall faster against his will. “I wish you wanted to spend time with me. It was nice in LA wasn't it?” He wasn't really looking for an answer, so Kurt gave none. “What about going back there? Maybe another vacation, or to live there?” Kurt was silent. “I'll finish the show for you Kurt, I'll leave and we can go somewhere. Just us. You'll see. We'll be better than before. Just us.”
James seemed happy with this conclusion and he stood, almost expecting Kurt to do the same. He walked to the door, leaving Kurt on the floor and repeated his last words quietly.
“Just us.”