Kurt awoke on Christmas morning with weary eyes and the unpleasant feeling that he really needed a shower.  However, when he tried to roll off of his bed toward the bathroom, a warm pair of arms tightened around his waist.  It gave him chills in a way that wasn't entirely unfamiliar, but it also wasn't entirely welcome.  He could forgive Blaine, but he didn't want the casual, endearing contact that he had relied on so much before.  Blaine stirred slightly in his sleep when Kurt slipped out of his arms, and Kurt tried not to care whether or not Blaine woke up.  Like any other day, he checked the clock before starting his morning routine: 8 AM.  No one in the house would be ready for at least two hours; they were all out late, and none of them were early risers.

Wait.  Shit.  It's Christmas morning.  Blaine's still here.  Why is Blaine still here?

He thought back to the night before.  He had left for a moment to go to the bathroom, and when he came back Blaine had been starting to doze off.  

"Can you let yourself out?"  He had whispered, and Blaine had mumbled in the affirmative, so Kurt curled on the other side of the bed and fell asleep.  Apparently, Blaine had gotten too tired to leave.  In some alternate universe, that might have been a bit endearing, but right then Kurt didn't have a drowsy Blaine on his hands right.

"Blaine!"  He hissed and gave the boy a harsh shake.  Blaine jerked his head off the pillow and took a second to dart his eyes around the room as if trying to remember where he was.

"What?"

"You can't be here!"  Kurt whispered.  He stumbled around his room, tossing Blaine his clothes and gathering his own.  "My family is here; you've gotta go."

"Oh, shit.  Um, I'll just get my clothes and go…"  Blaine said as he shimmied into his jeans, but in his rushed state he collapsed on the floor and slammed his head against Kurt's nightstand with a resounding thud and a shout of pain.

"Be quiet!"  Kurt scolded, hoping that no one had heard the noise.  Unfortunately, luck was not on his side, and as soon as Blaine recovered from his fall, Kurt heardheavy feet trudging up the stairs.  The two boys froze, eyes wide, and Kurt winced when the door eased open.

"Kurt, is everything okay up here?  Did any glass break?"  Burt asked as he entered the room.  When he saw Blaine, shirtless on the floor and frozen in some contorted position, as though sitting still would make him invisible, Burt pursed his lips.  Kurt cowered internally, and Blaine cowered externally before Burt started talking.

"Don't you have somewhere to be?"  He asked.  Blaine didn't respond. 

"Well, you can't stay here.  Kurt's got family over, and I'm sure yours is waiting for you."  Blaine gave a vigorous nod, and then fumbled his way into a shirt, grabbed his shoes, and headed toward the door.  He paused for a moment to say goodbye, but Kurt motioned toward the door, so Blaine decided a quick half-wave was sufficient, and then ran out of the house.

"And keep it quiet, will ya?"  Burt called out.

Once Kurt heard the door shut, his heart was beating in his ears and he could feel the heat of his flushed cheeks despite his attempt to act composed.  At least I'm dressed, he thought, staring at the crooked undershirt hanging off his shoulder and his jeans from the night before.  At least I'm mostly dressed.

Kurt tried to escape to the bathroom, mumbling, "Well, I've gotta go shower before everyone else wakes up, so…" 

"You stay right here, Kurt."  Burt said in a raised voice that brought Kurt to a halt.  He stared at the floor and waited for his father to speak.  I'm 19, it's not like he's gonna ground me.  Still, Kurt was anxiously wringing his hands.

Burt ran a hand over his face.  "Kurt, what did I tell you the after first time I found Blaine in your room?"

Kurt shrugged.  "I think you just left the room."

"Dammit, Kurt, I told you, don't throw yourself around!"  

"I'm not throwing myself around!"  Kurt bit back.

"They what was he doing in my house?"  Burt was nearly yelling at this point, and Kurt knew that he would be louder if he wasn't afraid of waking up Kurt's grandparents.

"I wasn't doing anything wrong, Dad, I'm 19!"  Kurt knew he sounded petty, but he couldn't think of anything rational to say.

"This isn't about how old you are, Kurt, this is about the fact that you're gonna get yourself hurt again!  Don't you remember why you broke up with that boy?  I got phone calls from you for weeks with you crying because he cheated on you, Kurt, so what are you doing with him?"

"It's not that simple…"

"Really?  Last I heard Blaine was an unforgivable bastard, and what, now he's changed?  Why are you trusting him this easy, Kurt?  Is it because you're lonely?"

Kurt paused for a moment to gather his thoughts before responding.  "I'm not lonely, I just…I don't know, okay?  But I promise you, I'm fine, and I'm not getting hurt."

Burt's chest heaved once, and he pointed a finger at Kurt. "Just….be careful, okay?"   

"Okay."  Kurt mumbled through a frown.  As touching as it was that Burt was worried about him, he knew he wouldn't stop seeing Blaine.  So he tried to push Burt's words out of his head and focused making himself presentable.

Eventually, Kurt made his way downstairs, welcoming his family with the expected hugs and kisses, letting himself try to forget Blaine for a while.  Everyone was laughing and sharing loud stories that could only be told away from home, and Kurt easily blended into the group, taking a moment to relax and finally let the day feel like Christmas.

He got into a conversation with his step-cousin Justin about living in New York, balancing Justin's little sister on his leg as they talked.

"Isn't it crazy up there, though?  I don't know how I could deal with a city that never sleeps."  Justin mused, shaking his head.

Kurt laughed.  "Well, there is quite a bit of yelling, but it's not that bad.  Unlike in Ohio, most of it isn't directed at me."

"Is living here really that bad?"

"Yes."  Kurt deadpanned.  Maybe he did it just to make Justin feel a little bad; after all, Ohio wasn't entirely awful.  It was where he had met all his friends: Mercedes, Rachel, Blaine. . .

The rest of the night went on like that.  Just as Kurt thought he had pushed Blaine out of his mind, the boy came creeping back.  Sometimes it wasn't even for any reason; his name would just pop up, like Kurt was whispering it to himself.  Maybe it was because he was trying so hard not to think about it.  Maybe it was because he wanted so desperately not to care, but Kurt couldn't stop wondering how Blaine was spending his Christmas.

It's interesting, really, how days like Christmas can pass right by.  Supposedly, it's one of the most important holidays of the year, even if you're not Christian.  It's one of the few times when families gather from far away places and children who hardly ever see each other play as though they're best friends.  It's different from any other day of the year, and yet, to Kurt, every year passed by only to leave the same memory: the one that smelled like ginger and cinnamon treats and looked like light bouncing off of tinsel wrapped delicately around a dying pine that people believed to add life to the room.  The one that sounded like Christmas carols, the same ones being played since Black Friday, slipping past people's ears along with animated chatter.  The one that tasted like turkey and modest bits of candy, but felt like a smile a little too happy to be natural and a little to forced to bring true joy.  Still, it was sort of comforting to have a day that always stayed the same, and for the first time since Kurt left Ohio, he felt like he had come back home.

As the day drew to a close, one by one the relatives trickled out the door until only Kurt, Finn, Carole, Burt, and Burt's parents remained.  It was late, and everyone headed off to bed.  Kurt haphazardly worked throughout his night time ritual before slumping against his pillow, exhausted by the haze of a day that had just gone by. 

He was nearly asleep when he heard a buzz coming from his nightstand.  He swung a lazy hand to grab his phone, rubbing his eyes as he held the screen up to his face.  Blaine.

"Hello?"

"Kurt!  You answered."

"How observant."

"Sorry, I just thought maybe you would be asleep, or, you know, not pick up the phone or something."

"Yeah, I was just headed to bed when I got your call, but I'm free to talk."

Kurt thought he heard a sigh on the other end of the line before Blaine spoke.  "Does your dad hate me?"

Kurt made an apologetic face before remembering that Blaine was on the phone and couldn't actually see him.  "Well, he has made it very clear to me that he's not your biggest fan."

Blaine let out a frustrated moan and said, "I'm so sorry, I should have just left last night.  Then, well, I guess he would still hate me, but at least he would probably hate me less."

"He just needs some time to come around.  I mean, right now you're still a bad guy in his mind, so seeing you here just made him think you were going to take advantage of me or something, I guess.  I doubt it'll last, though; before we broke up, my dad was sort of in love with you."  Kurt said, feeling almost guilty about reminding Blaine of what they were trying to move on from.

Blaine laughed in a sad, self-deprecating sort of way.  "I don't think I'll ever be done apologizing to you for all the stuff I fucked up."

Kurt's voice softened.  "You can stop apologizing any time you want."

"If only.  I don't think I'll stop being sorry about hat until after I'm dead and rotting in a box underground."

"My friend, you are the only one who will be able to fix that problem."

"Maybe.  I guess I'm just not there yet."  Blaine mumbled. 

"Well, update me when you get there."  Kurt paused and realized he didn't really have anything else to say.  "Merry Christmas, Blaine."

"Merry Christmas."  

And the line went dead.