I spent much of the following weekend running around town, completing domestic tasks, while Blaine hardly moved from his spot at the piano. As much as I loved arriving home to the sound of Blaine’s voice filling the apartment, a little help around the place wouldn’t have gone astray. Yes, living with my fiancé was a dream come true. I think I had just forgotten how much of a boy Blaine can be sometimes. “Honey, could you put the shopping away from me please, I wanna jump in the shower before Rachel gets here.” I said, placing the multitude of shopping bags I’d carried up the stairs onto the kitchen table. I received a mindless grunt in response. Dismayed, I tried to forget the fact that Blaine had been practically ignoring me for 2 days as I had to start getting ready for what now promised to be the best part of my day.  

It was Sunday afternoon. This meant that it was just about time for Hummelberry’s fortnightly Broadway matinee. It was a stupid tradition. Rachel and I had started it when we first arrived in New York as a way of experiencing as much Broadway as we could on our limited budgets. Today, we were going to a matinee showing of Hamilton, mainly because I like to see the understudies as well as the main cast (so I can ruthlessly compare afterwards). “I’m showering!” I called out to Blaine as I grabbed a towel for myself from the linen cupboard. “Mmhm.” I heard from the piano, Blaine clearly not paying attention to me as he scribbled notes onto the pad in front of him.

It really was ridiculous. AVPM hadn’t even started production yet. He’d had maybe 3 conversations with the director. And yet, there he was, already knee-deep in corny Harry Potter jokes and unfinished chord progressions. I tried to put Blaine’s flakiness out of my mind as I showered, drowning out the sound of his musings with my own shower head rendition of ‘You’ll Be Back’. I was in the middle of blow-drying my hair when Rachel arrived. Blaine greeted her sweetly and directed her towards the bathroom, where I continued to fiddle with my not-quite-perfect hair-do. We chatted casually whilst I fiddled with my appearance until I was, eventually, content with what I saw in the mirror. “Seriously Kurt, you take longer than Santana to get ready and she has to clip in a weave before she leaves the house….. we have to go right now, or we’ll be late!!” She said, looking down at her watch with a concerned scowl. I flashed her an apologetic smile as I wandered over to where Blaine was once again furrowing his bushy eyebrows toward our tired piano. “Make sure you take a break at some point yeah?” I said softly, running a hand through his un-gelled curls as he looked up at me to say goodbye. “I will.” He smiled. “Love you.” I said, casually leaning down to peck his lips. “Love you too, Kurt.” He grinned back at me. I hauled the front door closed behind Rachel and I, and as soon as we were out of earshot, I let out a frustrated groan. “That is the most he’s spoken to me all weekend….” I complained as we descended the stairs. Rachel looked at me, perplexed. “I’ve been struggling to get anything better than one-word answers out of him since he started working of Harry Potter stuff… unscheduled make-out sessions are but a distant memory at this point…” I continued, glaring at Rachel when she rolled her eyes at me. “I’m serious!” I said, dramatically. “I know someone else who used to get like that about Harry Potter…” She joked. She did, however, make a good point. When high school-aged Kurt was in a state of full Harry Potter immersion, he was completely inaccessible to the outside world for days, sometimes weeks, on end. Rachel took my hand in hers as we stepped out onto the bustling street below mine and Blaine’s apartment. “He’s just excited to start production…” Rachel said as we began the short walk down to the subway station. “I’m sure he’ll be much more tolerable once actual rehearsals start.” She added, squeezing my hand. “I hope so…” I exhaled deeply as I thought of just how lonely the past 48 hours had been. “And until he is, you have me!” Rachel smiled, literally skipping beside me. “I suppose you’ll do…” I laughed, trying to match her giddy, child-like enthusiasm as we approached the entrance to the subway station.  

             I arrived home around dinner time, still buzzing from the brilliance that was and is Hamilton the Musical. I had taken off my coat, hung up my keys and checked my hair in the mirror which hung by the doorway before I even noticed the distinct lack of music echoing around the apartment. I looked around for my fiancé. Perplexed when I couldn’t find him, my eyes eventually landed on him sprawled out across the couch, fast asleep, sheet music still clutched in his hand. I couldn’t help but laugh at how disgustingly teen movie this situation was. I wandered over and took the paper from Blaine’s weak grasp and placed it carefully on the coffee table. ‘Voldemort is Going Down’ was scribbled across the top of the page, alongside other potential titles. Most of the music didn’t have lyrics, most of what was there looked like it had been written and subsequently re-written multiple times and the page was peppered with question marks and silly little drawings. As much as a part of me missed immediately hearing Blaine’s gorgeous voice when I walked in the front door, I was glad that he had finally decided to rest. I gently kissed his forehead and went about fixing myself a hot cup of green tea to warm my insides after what was a rather chilly trip home from the theatre. Soon I had settled into the arm chair beside the couch and found an episode of Gilmore Girls on Netflix that I hadn’t already seen. I watched with the volume turned down so low I could barely make out the dialogue. The last thing I wanted to do was wake up Blaine, who was still snoring away beside me.

            In typical binge-watching fashion, I was four and half episodes in when Blaine woke suddenly from his nap. He almost jumped from his spot on the couch, and looked as white as a ghost. “Hey sleepy head.” I chimed from my place in the chair beside him. The sound of my voice seemed to surprise him in a way his saw him immediately rush over to me, without saying a word, and collapse into my lap. Blaine wrapped his arms around me unusually tight the second he was close enough to hold me. “You okay?” I asked, leaning back a little so I could see his face. His eyes glistened with tears which were yet to fall, the sight of which made my chest feel hollow. “Nightmare…” Blaine whispered, letting himself melt into my arms again. I sighed, happy to just hold Blaine until he eventually calmed down from whatever terrible fantasy his mind had conjured up this time.

I would not say that nightmares were not unusual for Blaine. His over-active, child-like imagination can get the better of him sometimes. At least that’s my theory. The very few nightmares which Blaine has chosen to share the details of have all included fictitious villains or extremely unrealistic situations involving life or death consequences. Today, I assumed was no different, so despite the chair I was perched on not really being big enough for the two of us, I chose not to protest. After a few moments of comfortable silence, I tried to lighten the mood by explaining the plot of 4 or so Gilmore Girls episodes Blaine had missed while he was sleeping. As I rambled off various plot points and character developments, Blaine let out a small chuckle before he turned in my arms to watch with me. I was extremely glad that Lorelai and Rory were able to turn the slightly terrified look which had been plastered across Blaine’s face when he woke up into a beaming smile.

            For the reminder of the night, Blaine stayed uncharacteristically close to me. Always wanting to be connected to me in some way, I found this to be in pleasant contrast to the way he’d been acting since he first sat down at the piano on Saturday morning. Even when I was making herbal tea just before bed, Blaine stood so he could rest his cheek against my shoulder. I didn’t want to ask about the dream he’d had earlier, but a part of me was curious as to which its content had left him feeling so clingy. Not that I mind clingy. To be honest, I loved Clingy!Blaine. Clingy!Blaine was the best confidence booster a guy could as for. My adoration for my fiancé’s sudden need to be close to me was not, however, enough to completely cloud my inquisitive mind. I decided to leave the topic on the back-burned until tomorrow, not wanting to upset Blaine just before we began our nightly routine and hop into bed. As I sat in front of our dresser, completing my 8 step skin renewal regiment, Blaine sat practically in my lap. He even offered to help. As romantic as that had seemed, I politely turned down his offer, purely because I had seen him running his hands through his admittedly oily hair just moments before, and my face did not need any more reasons to pump out more oil than a Chuck E. Cheese. I did offer to comb through Blaine’s curls for him though, once I was done applying the 8th layer to my face. He smiled at my suggestion and leaned in to my every touch as his ringlet fought with the teeth of his comb. As Blaine clung to me that night, I lay awake thinking about how strange my day had been. I though about how angry I had been at Blaine this morning, and how immersed he had been in his work. I thought about how bland the idea of simply going to school, while Blaine worked on AVMP seemed. I thought about Rachel, and Funny Girl, and how crazy my best friend’s life was about to become. Before I knew it, I was wide awake, knee-deep in an existential crisis while Blaine slept soundly with his head on my chest. I stared at the ceiling for too long. I refused to look over at the alarm clock which lit the room with its dull red light to see how late it was. Eventually, I tuned in to the rhythm of Blaine’s shallow breathing in an attempt to calm my thoughts and bring about sleep. As always, that trick had worked like a charm.