**** March 1895 ****

Chapter 14

With his grandfather's warning fresh in his mind, Blaine concealed his relationship with Kurt behind the pretense of spending time with Quinn, always insisting that the time he spent away from Markland was time spent in the company of his fiancée. Dr. Anderson never questioned it — not outwardly, at least — and he seemed to be preoccupied by his fledgling marriage as Mary set about redecorating the parlors. Just to keep up appearances, Blaine continued to be seen in public with Quinn as often as he could before stealing away to see Kurt.

Somehow Blaine knew it wouldn't last forever, but he and Kurt never spoke of it, instead choosing to lose themselves to the moments they could have.

Dr. Anderson planned to announce Blaine's engagement the night of the hospital benefit ball, when all of the city's well-to-do would be present. Blaine was looking forward to it because he would no longer have to worry so much about the scrutiny of others and could find more moments to spend alone with Quinn, which translated to more time with Kurt.

The ball had been planned to rival the grandest balls of New York and was to be preceded by a carnival at the Alcazar's Casino. Even the men spoke of nothing else in the days leading up to the event – speculation about the "grand spectacle" that was being advertised around town was all anyone would talk about. Kurt, for his part, said he was most excited to see the new fashions sure to be on display.

Further aggrandizing the festivities, Ohio's Governor, William McKinley, had arrived in town and was to be the guest of honor at the ball.

By the time the benefit arrived in mid March, the weather had begun to make its transition to warmer temperatures. During the day, the hotel guests spent more time outside, rather than in their much warmer rooms.

On a Friday afternoon, Blaine and Quinn sat in the courtyard looking at the stereoscope Quinn had bought as a souvenir. They took turns looking through the view finder and admiring the hand-tinted photos that seemed to leap off the paper they were printed on when viewed through the lenses of the device. Quinn was utterly fascinated.

"How do they think of such things?" she exclaimed as she held the stereoscope up to her face. The photo she was looking at was a panoramic image of all three sections of the Ponce's parlor, the depth of the room exaggerating the three-dimensional quality given to it by the stereoscope.

"One of the many modern wonders," Blaine said. "I heard the elder Mr. Hummel is working on a self-propelled vehicle that will run without the aid of a horse."

"It truly is a wonder," Quinn said, "the age we live in. I can't wait to have children so I can share all of it with them."

Blaine shuddered at the thought, but forced a smile and asked, "How many children did you want? I suppose it's something we should discuss."

"Oh, I'd be happy with one," she said, smiling broadly at him, "but I'll have as many as God blesses me with."

It felt like a practiced answer, but Blaine didn't press for more, content to simply nod his agreement as he switched out the photo in the stereoscope — this one a simple image of the pool at the Hotel Alcazar. It reminded him of the night he and Kurt had snuck in; how the blue-green glow of the spring water reflected in Kurt's eyes deepened their already stunning hue. As long as he lived, Blaine would never forget that night. It was as if he had discovered another depth to his person, a secret passage of desire that once it had been unlocked could never be concealed again. Glancing sideways at Quinn, Blaine wondered if he could even attempt to conceal his true feelings for Kurt, when the mere thought of him caused his heart to race and his skin to turn to gooseflesh under his many layers. His skin practically burned like fire at just the memory of their first kiss amid the steam of the baths. Was that something he could conceal from a woman who was to become his wife? Was that even possible?

Handing the stereoscope over to Quinn, he allowed himself to change the subject. "Do you have a gown for the ball yet?"

"Of course I do," she said, holding the device up to her face. "It's tomorrow night, silly."

"Right. Of course. How stupid of me."

Blaine smiled and picked at edge of one of the photographs, allowing his mind to wander to plans of stealing away to see Kurt after the ball ended. He could almost envision Kurt with a towel slung low about his hips, a faint sheen of perspiration illuminating his fair skin as Blaine decorated his body in kisses.

"Are you warm?" Quinn asked, pulling him from his fantasy.

"Pardon?"

"You're fanning yourself with that photo," Quinn said, gesturing to Blaine's right hand. "In fact, you've practically ruined it."

He glanced down at the now mangled photo in his hands, incredulous at how deep in thought he had been. "I'm terribly sorry. I can replace it."

"Oh, don't be ridiculous," she said. "It's only a photograph. Think nothing of it." Quinn's smile was genuine and should have reassured him, but Blaine felt just as displaced as ever, at least ever since he had met Kurt.

"How would you feel about getting married sooner rather than later?" Blaine asked suddenly, the beginnings of an idea forming in his mind.

Quinn tilted her head, furrowing her brow as she studied Blaine's face. "Well, that's something we'd have to discuss with my parents, but I'm not opposed."

Something in her gaze told Blaine she was curious about his reasons for asking such a question, but he tried not to concern himself with trying to figure out why. His mind was preoccupied with the realization that if he and Quinn married, he would no longer need to be worried about his grandfather's threats of reworking the terms of his trust.

"It doesn't have to be right away," Blaine hedged, "but I thought it might be nice to marry this summer before it's too cold to take a proper honeymoon."

"Of course," Quinn said.

Blaine returned his attentions to the stereoscope, but he could still feel Quinn's eyes on him. He might have to explain himself better, but first he needed to speak to Kurt.

The ballroom at the Alcazar was strung with dozens of paper lanterns, and brightly colored bunting adorned the balconies overlooking the pool, in which was displayed an ornate Venetian style gondola. Carnival-style games lined the outer edges of the entire Casino complex; for 25 cents a try, guests could win various trinkets and toys. It was all very festive and celebratory, but Blaine was concerned with only one thing: finding Kurt.

Quinn was taken with it all, commenting on the brightly colored gowns and pulling Blaine to a stop at every booth they passed.

Craning his neck every time her attention was averted, Blaine continued to let his eyes rove the room for Kurt. He had almost given up seeing him before the ball when Blaine spotted his slender form leaning casually against a pillar, listening to the band playing a rag. It was a fairly new style of music, one which Blaine found himself intrigued by whenever he visited the Negro saloons in New York, but seeing Kurt take it in with a look of near reverence on his face made him love it all the more.

Kurt tapped his foot along to the syncopated rhythm of the music as his fingers danced along his crossed arms in time with the melody.

"It's addictive, isn't it?" Blaine asked, approaching Kurt from behind and leaning in to speak softly into his right ear.

Kurt startled but did not turn around, instead nodding his head and craning his neck to chance a sidelong glance at Blaine. "I just saw your grandfather," he said.

"He can hardly chastise me for saying a quick hello in a public place," Blaine reasoned.

Turning to face Blaine, Kurt's face broke out into a wide grin. "Still bucking tradition I see," he said, nodding to where Blaine had left Quinn by a curious mechanical horse racing game being run by Mrs. Flagler. "You've left your fiancée all alone."

"She'll be alright for a moment," Blaine replied, without sparing a glance in her direction. "I just wanted to make sure you were still planning on coming to the ball."

"I wouldn't miss it for the world."

"Good," Blaine said, smiling. "I have plans for us."

Kurt raised an eyebrow in intrigue, but didn't press for further information.

Seeing his grandfather's stern gaze over Kurt's shoulder, Blaine decided it was best if he returned to Quinn's side, but let his hand casually brush against Kurt's back as he said, "I'll see you soon."

As he walked away, he could have sworn he heard Kurt sigh before he began humming along to the music. His heart skipped a beat knowing that they would soon be alone again. He might be Quinn's at the ball, but the remainder of the evening would belong to Kurt.

Quinn smiled at him as he approached, but her nostrils flared as she inhaled, giving away her annoyance at having been left unescorted.

"I'm sorry to leave you alone, my darling," he said brightly. "I wanted to say a quick hello to Mr. Hummel. I hope you weren't bored."

"Not at all," she said through a tight smile. "I was chatting with Mrs. Lowry. Her daughter just had her third child – a little boy."

"That's wonderful," Blaine said, not at all interested in the goings-on of the hotel guests. He remained distracted for the duration of the evening, until they all made their way back to the Ponce for the ball.

"Ladies and Gentlemen, the governor of the great state of Ohio and, if he plays his cards right, candidate for President of these great United States... the Honorable Mr. William McKinley."

The ballroom erupted into applause as a broadly built man about Blaine's height took to the stage, his pomaded hair and clean-shaven face making him look younger than he likely was. His dark suit and bow tie were contrasted by the brighter colors of the ladies' silk dresses and the fragrant sprays of flowers decorating the stage.

His voice rang out above the murmur of the crowd — authoritative, but not particularly booming or deep — as he said, "Hello, fellow guests of Mr. Flagler's fine hotel. I'm so happy to be with you tonight as guest of honor at the eighth annual Charity Ball and celebration to benefit the Alicia Hospital. It is with great pleasure that I announce the first dance of the evening." He gestured to the orchestra before returning his attention to the crowd. "Ladies, please find a gentleman to lead you in a polonaise." A jubilant cry sounded from the ladies to Blaine's right as Governor McKinley paused for effect. "That's right," he said. "It's to be a ladies' choice."

Another eruption of excited chatter broke out as the youngest of the women in attendance began flitting about to find dance partners. Blaine nodded to Quinn who had just tapped his arm, noting that Kurt was claimed once again by Violet Atwater. His heart twinged a bit, but of course he knew that it was just a dance. Later he and Kurt would be able to share the most precious of moments alone and would need no music to lead them in their movements. He smiled to himself at the thought as he took Quinn's hand and led her to the dance floor.

His eyes caught Kurt's almost immediately, a hint of mischief sparkling in his blue-green irises that caught Blaine's attention even from twenty feet away. Kurt returned his gaze to Violet and bowed, before glancing again in Blaine's direction.

In the heat of their fervent glances, the dance took on a seductive quality that it didn't normally possess. A subtle twitch of desire about Kurt's mouth and an expertly arched eyebrow seemed practically carnal and yet wholly innocent at the same time, leaving Blaine feeling as if his body were being played like a finely tuned instrument..

Blaine's heart raced as he led Quinn around the dance floor, his eyes following Kurt as they mirrored each other's movements from twenty feet away. As ever, Kurt's back was straight, his head held high. His dance partner gazed adoringly up at him, but Kurt was oblivious to her attention. Whether it was willful or purely coincidental, Blaine couldn't say. Not that it mattered; the man who was the object of Violet Atwater's obvious admiration would be in Blaine's arms in short order, and if Blaine had his way, would remain there until sunrise.

When the dance caused them to pass close to one another, Blaine felt Kurt's hand graze his own, sending a rush of heat through his body as his fingertips tingled with the lingering ghost of Kurt's touch.

He stumbled through a few of the steps as he tried to gain his composure, and could have sworn he saw Kurt bite back a laugh as he turned away and led Violet in the opposite direction.

"Ow," Quinn squeaked in a rare moment of agitation when Blaine stepped on her foot. "Blaine, you're messing up all the steps. Is something wrong?"

"What? No... I'm sorry, darling," he said, his gaze shifting to Quinn's green eyes as he found his footing once more. "I think I'm nervous about the announcement... that's all."

Her eyes narrowed as she tilted her head to take in Blaine's bewildered expression. "Are you sure that's all?" she asked.

"Quite certain," Blaine said, hoping the smile he forced his mouth to make was believable. Quinn's scrutiny made him exceedingly uncomfortable, leaving him wishing the dance would end soon.

Across the room, Blaine could see that Kurt was watching him intently, concern furrowing his well-defined brow.

"They would make a handsome couple, don't you think?" Quinn asked.

"What?"

"Kurt and Violet," Quinn said, nodding in their direction. "It's too bad he's already engaged. He's quite a catch... Wouldn't you agree?"

Blaine's palms suddenly felt clammy and he found himself thankful that Quinn was wearing gloves. "Uh, yes... of course. Kurt's... he's... Miss Berry is quite lucky."

"She's not the only one," Quinn said. She didn't break her concentration and her dance steps never faltered, but Blaine noticed a tiny smirk teasing the corner of her delicate mouth.

Blaine opened his mouth to ask what she meant, but the music was ending and applause broke out around them. He stared open-mouthed at Quinn as she clapped politely for the orchestra and saw her eyes widen when Blaine's grandfather took the stage.

"Oh my goodness," she gasped as her hand fluttered up to cover her now trembling mouth. "It's time."

Blaine swallowed heavily around a dry tongue, his eyes scanning the room for a glimpse of Kurt. For a moment, Blaine wondered if he'd left altogether, unable to stomach the evening's big announcement, but then there he was, standing next to his father and Mrs. Hudson, attention drawn to the stage as if nothing were out of the ordinary.

But Blaine's heart sank as his eyes landed on Kurt's hands; his fingers contorted almost unnaturally as he pulled and pressed at his own flesh — his own patented nervous habit. It hurt to see Kurt in distress and know that he was the cause, at least in part.

The contrast of Quinn's excitement was surreal. There could not have been two more different reactions to the same event. Blaine himself was unsure what he was feeling, though — dread, resignation, relief. None of it felt right. And yet it was inevitable. The only saving grace was his genuine fondness for Quinn and the knowledge that an engagement would save him some of the harsh scrutiny that had befallen him of late.

Dr. Anderson cleared his throat and the crowd began to grow quiet. Kurt's eyes quickly caught Blaine's before he gave him a strained smile and then quickly turned away. Begrudgingly, Blaine returned his attention to the front of the room where his grandfather was now beaming, drink in hand.

"First of all, I want to thank Mrs. Flagler — and the ladies of St. Augustine — for planning such a wonderful benefit and ball. You've outdone yourself again." He raised his glass in Mrs. Flagler's direction as the room began to applaud her. "The hospital is grateful to have you serving it and using your many talents to help us raise money for its continued success." He paused again for a second round of applause, and when it died down, he leveled his blue eyes on Blaine.

"I have an announcement of a personal nature to make as well, if you'll indulge me," he said, beaming. "As many of you know, my grandson Blaine has been staying with me since the start of the season, and he's been seen frequently in the company of the daughter of a dear friend of mine, Miss Lucy Fabray." An excited murmur began to stir as the pieces fell into place. "Well, it will come as no surprise then, that Blaine has asked Miss Fabray to marry him, and she, God help her, has said yes."

An excited cacophony of whooping and cheering broke out immediately, and Blaine felt several firm claps on his shoulder as Quinn was whisked away in a frenzy of her friends. Blaine couldn't help but get caught up in it, accepting a cigar from a red-haired man to his left and a glass of whiskey from an older gentleman to his right. He was receiving raucous congratulations all around and could just make out the sound of the orchestra playing a cheery waltz beneath the commotion when he caught a glimpse of Kurt's retreating form, shoulders slouched as he exited the ballroom and headed for the front gates.

In a split-second decision that he did not really think through, Blaine set off after him, only vaguely aware that as guest of honor he would be missed from his own engagement party. He didn't care. His only concern was to make sure Kurt was alright.

Somehow he knew exactly where Kurt was headed, and he set off in the direction of the Alcazar's Casino. It was still unlocked from the bazaar earlier in the evening and he found his way quickly to the back of the complex.

His shoes slipped a little on the freshly polished marble leading toward the baths, causing him to stumble, but Blaine somehow managed to stay on his feet. When he found Kurt, sitting on the edge of one of the marble benches in the empty steam room, his head in his hands, Blaine felt his breath catch in his throat. He couldn't imagine what Kurt was feeling, but his lover's demeanor told him everything he needed to know. He crossed the room in three long strides, and as he approached, Kurt glanced up. Without saying a word, Blaine leaned forward as Kurt wrapped his arms around Blaine's waist and they both began to cry.

"I thought I could do it," Kurt said, his sobs getting lost in the fabric of Blaine's waistcoat. "I really did."

"Shh, it's okay, my darling. I know.... I know." Blaine stroked his hair soothingly as his own tears soaked his cheeks.

"I didn't want to ruin it for you," Kurt said. "You should get back to Quinn. You'll be missed."

"Just let me hold you for a moment," Blaine replied, his words coming out strained and throaty.

He felt Kurt's arms tighten around him and he squeezed back with every ounce of strength he had, Kurt's soft hair tickling Blaine's chin where it rested on the crown of his head. When Kurt finally pulled back, Blaine lowered his gaze to see Kurt's watery, red-rimmed eyes gazing up at him.

"I love you," Kurt said.

"I love you too," Blaine replied, pressing a gentle kiss to the tip of Kurt's nose before nudging his way lower and brushing their lips together.

Kurt breathed a soft sigh that Blaine felt all the way to his toes. It was as if every time they kissed he could finally breathe again; it was a comfort he'd never known before and doubted he would ever find again.

Their tongues tangled together the way vines cling to brick, desperately holding steady against everything the universe could do to try to separate them. Kurt's hands snaked under Blaine's jacket, the warmth of his touch radiating through the soft silk of his waistcoat and thin cotton of his shirt until it reached his skin, magnifying his own body heat back to him.

"I need you to touch me," Kurt said, his lips still mostly in contact with Blaine's. "In case we don't get another chance."

"Kurt, don't say that. We'll find a way."

"Don't make promises," Kurt begged. "Just kiss me... make me feel something. I need it... I need you."

Blaine surged forward, sending them both sprawling along the cold marble bench. His knee struck the hard surface, causing him to wince but not injuring him enough to deter him from his goal.

"Are you alright?" Kurt asked, as he stifled a laugh behind his hand.

"Yes, I'm fine," Blaine said, rubbing his kneecap as he straddled Kurt's waist. "Now, where were we?"

Without a word, Kurt pulled him down and pressed their lips together. There was an urgency to their movements, but also a gentle languor, as if they needed the moment to last. Knowing very well that what Kurt feared might come to pass, Blaine wanted to savor every second of their encounter. If by some cruel twist of fate, this was to be their last time together, he wanted to cherish it.

His fingers fumbled as he tried to unfasten Kurt's waistcoat, hands sliding over the smooth silk and catching on the tiny buttons. It felt like forever until he was able to touch bare skin, warm and soft beneath his palms. Kurt arched up into Blaine's touch as if he too couldn't bear the scant inches of space between them.

Somehow Blaine managed to undress them both without granting their bodies the pleasure of the cool air on their skin, instead keeping their limbs entwined and their torsos flush as he stripped them down.

Soon the taste of Kurt's skin on Blaine's tongue was reminding him of the briny flavor of the sea; the curve of his mouth lapping at each rolling wave of Kurt's breath. The rich scent of tobacco lingered, even with their clothes gone, but underneath that Blaine caught the hint of something vaguely floral haunting Kurt's skin. He buried his nose in Kurt's neck and inhaled, working hard to commit that particular combination of smells to memory.

As the rhythm of their movements began to match up and become more purposeful, Kurt's eyes drifted closed, as if he too were drunk on the sensory pleasures of their love. When his eyes opened again, they pierced Blaine's heart, bluer than their normal hue and darkened thanks to the haze of lust and the shadowy calm of the steam room.

It was as if every nerve in Blaine's body wanted to commit the moment to memory — every feather light brush of Kurt's fingers across Blaine's arms or back, every warm sigh from Kurt's lips as it tickled Blaine's ear and neck, the slight hitch in Kurt's breath as Blaine explored Kurt's lithe body with his mouth and hands. None of it could be forgotten.

Blaine had never felt such complete and utter surrender in another man's arms before. He doubted he ever would again, and all too soon, it was over, Kurt's arm dangling limply over the edge of the bench as Blaine lay panting on top of him, their combined sweat mingling together between them.

Their breathing fell in sync, hearts beating out rapid twin tempos as silence fell over them and Blaine felt the room begin to close in on him.

"I can't give this up," Kurt said.

"With any luck, we won't have to."

Kurt snorted. "Never in my life have I ever been that lucky."

"Things can change," Blaine reasoned.

"I hope you're right," Kurt said, stretching his neck so he could press a kiss to top of Blaine's head. "Your hair needs fixing."

"I can wet it down before we head back."

"I think you should go back alone," Kurt said. "I want to stay here and think."

Blaine sat up and looked down on his lover with concern. "Are you alright?"

"Of course," Kurt said with a weak smile. "Or, I will be." He propped himself on his elbows and locked his eyes on Blaine's. "You should go."

Blaine leaned forward and kissed Kurt one last time before gathering up his clothes and dressing again.

As he exited the baths and closed the door behind him, a looming shadow crossed his path. The shock of it sent Blaine reeling backward, clasping a hand over his chest.

"Grandfather," Blaine exclaimed. "I–"

"Don't bother with the lies," the old man said, raising a hand to silence Blaine. "I warned you. I won't have you endangering this family's reputation. This ends tonight."

Blaine felt his heart stutter and sink in his chest. "But–"

"But what? You love him?" his grandfather scoffed.

"He's my soul's mate," Blaine said. "I cannot imagine a life without him."

"Spare me the poetry, Blaine. You will marry Quinn and do what is expected of you, and to ensure that happens, I'm calling on my lawyer tomorrow and changing the terms of your trust as well as my will. You are forbidden from seeing that boy, and if you're ever caught in a compromising position with a young man again, you'll never see a dime of this family's money. Do you understand me?"

"I think you're being a bit unreasonable," Blaine said, his voice shaky and thin.

"I think I've been more than fair. This sordid behavior has been going on for months."

Blaine felt like he'd been punched in the gut. "You knew?"

"Of course I knew, Blaine. What do you take me for, an imbecile?"

"Then why did you allow it to continue, if you're so against it?"

"I thought you could be discreet, but you're a fool and a damned hopeless romantic just like Harold Pratt. You might as well dress as a fairy for all the care you put into your reputation."

"I promise we can be more careful, Grandfather. Just please don't do this."

"I'm afraid it's too late," Dr. Anderson said. "You've proven how incapable you are of managing your own affairs."

"But–"

"My word is final. Now, let's get back to the ball before the Fabrays notice we're both missing. And fix your hair. You look like a hobo."

Blaine glanced over his shoulder as his grandfather tugged harshly on his elbow. He nearly dropped his jacket in a puddle of water trying to see if Kurt had emerged and heard any of their conversation. Part of him hoped he had, knowing he may never get a chance to explain, but another part wished desperately that he could find a way to convince his grandfather to change his mind.

"Oh, there you are," Quinn said, gripping Blaine by the arm as she looped hers through it. "I was wondering where you'd gotten off to."

"I– I, uh, guess I was overwhelmed by all the attention. I needed some fresh air."

His grandfather clapped him on the back and leaned in close to his ear. "Good boy."

Something in Blaine snapped at those words; he felt the rage bubbling up inside him like a fountain about to overflow, but it didn't. Blaine fell into an eerie calm, like he was asleep but still standing upright. He could feel Quinn's hand on his arm, but everything else seemed far away and separate from his own existence. He allowed himself to be pulled along by his fiancée, his feet following a well-worn path of obedience and acquiescence he'd been traveling his entire life.

Dr. Anderson walked behind them, his footfalls practically echoing inside Blaine's head. Every other sound in the room was blocked out as they wove their way through the throng of partygoers; not even the gentle lull of the orchestra registered as sound. It was all a backdrop to reality, a dull and faded wallpaper that clung to the walls but did nothing to add to the atmosphere. Blaine let himself be drawn deeper and deeper into the crowd of guests, until he all but disappeared.

The well-wishers were abundant, slapping Blaine on the back, kissing Quinn's hand or asking to see her ring. The older guests chattered on about what handsome babies they would make, and the younger ones asked where they would honeymoon.

Quinn took it all in stride, smiling graciously at everyone, accepting their best wishes with sincerity and deferring to Blaine whenever socially appropriate. But Blaine just felt numb, no longer inhabiting his own body as he let everything happen around him, participating only when necessary.

It wasn't until he saw Kurt entering the ballroom, a cigarette clenched between his teeth, that his new reality began to sink in. He would never be alone with Kurt again, never touch him, or hear his name whispered in Kurt's melodious voice, or even see the smile that Kurt reserved for him. It was all over, and there was nothing more to do but accept that fate.

The ball went by in a blur, Blaine staunchly ignoring Kurt's presence for fear that one glance would shatter the delicate façade he'd built up around himself. He simply kept drinking and letting Quinn lead him around, introducing him to the few guests he had not met already. When he finally excused himself to go to the restroom after his fifth whiskey, he ran headlong into Kurt in the lobby. Blaine staggered on his feet and barely caught himself on the bannister.

"Easy there, cowboy," Kurt teased, reaching out to steady Blaine with an arm about his waist.

"I'm fine," Blaine said, the words coming out in a huff thanks to the firm press of Kurt's forearm into his sternum.

Kurt reeled back, turning his head away from Blaine's face. "How much have you had to drink?"

"Enough."

"Enough for what? To kill a person?"

"Enough to forget," Blaine said, slumping forward and not caring that he was pressing his body up against Kurt's. For the moment, he was content to take what little he could.

"You're speaking in riddles," Kurt said, allowing Blaine to lean his weight into him. "What has gotten into you?"

Leading Blaine to the bathroom, Kurt propped him against the wall and locked the door behind them.

"What are you doing?" Blaine said, suddenly feeling much more sober than he should have.

"Giving us some privacy," Kurt said, his eyes growing dark as they always did when he looked at Blaine. It sickened Blaine to know he may never see that look again.

"We can't be seen together," Blaine spat.

"Oh, don't be silly," Kurt said, trying to take Blaine's hand. "No one's around."

Blaine jerked his hand away. "I'm serious, Kurt. You need to go."

"What are you going on about?" Kurt said, his face still a bemused mix of confusion and concern.

"My grandfather," Blaine said. "He said if I ever see you again, I'm disinherited."

"Oh, nonsense... he's made idle threats before."

"This is different. He knows about us and said if I'm ever seen with you again, I get nothing. I'll be penniless, and worse still, I'll have no family name, Kurt. Do you have any idea what that means?"

"That you'll be like me?" Kurt scoffed.

"Kurt, that's not what I–"

"I think it's exactly what you meant," Kurt replied, his eyes flashing with something new that Blaine had not yet seen. "You act like I haven't had to make sacrifices."

"You know that's not what this is about."

"Then what?" Kurt pressed. "Tell me."

The silence stretched out between them like a tangled ball of twine, bending back on itself but only ever becoming knotted and useless. It felt as if the connection they had shared had been severed, cut from Blaine's soul like a dead limb.

"I'm not strong like you," Blaine said finally, his stomach churning from too much whiskey and too much emotion.

"You're pushing me away, just like you pushed Oliver away," Kurt said bitterly. "You'd rather have your money than live the life you deserve."

"You don't know anything about him... or me!" Blaine shouted. He regretted the words as soon as they were out of his mouth, but Kurt had swung a low blow.

Kurt didn't speak right away, looking surprised, like he had just realized something, or maybe it was just the shock of Blaine's raised voice. "You're right, I don't know you," he said, his voice barely a whisper that still echoed in the empty room. "I'll make this easy on us both." Kurt cast his eyes toward the floor, tears beginning to pool in them as he spoke the two words Blaine had never thought he'd hear: "Goodbye, Blaine."

And then he was gone.

Unable to keep his stomach in check anymore, Blaine bent over the bowl and released the torrent of whiskey and heartbreak that had consumed him.

Kurt was gone, and Blaine could not follow him.