2014

Blaine is already home, curled up on the couch and humming quietly to the sheet music in his hand. Thank god. It's been the longest day.

He looks up and gives Kurt a smile in greeting that Kurt returns to the best of his ability.

"Honey, I'm home," he says sardonically, as he starts pulling off his light spring layers.

"Bad day, huh?"

"The worst."

"Tell me about it?"

He pats the cushion next to him with an inviting smile, and Kurt flops himself down with a lack of grace that he would normally be embarrassed about. He leans in to rest his cheek against Blaine's shoulder. Blaine tilts his head down to look him sideways in the eye.

"Hi."

Kurt smiles, bigger and more real, now that he has something to smile about, and leans up just enough that Blaine gets the picture. They meet in the middle for a lazy kiss, and the angle isn't great, but it's what Kurt needed.

"So?"

"Ugh. It's just one of those days, you know? I keep messing up the bridge on that solo piece that Madam Tibideaux has me working on, and I'm disappointing her, I can tell, and Peterson kept me for twenty minutes after class to work on my plié of all things, and it threw off my whole schedule so badly that I didn't even have time for lunch, and my scene partners – you know, for that group project I was telling you about? They suck. They're a bunch of divas who can't take direction and don't know how to give it, and it'll be a miracle if we don't fail the whole thing."

He already feels better just from getting it out, and from the feeling of Blaine's arm around his back and his fingers stroking at his shoulder.

"You'll figure it out," murmurs Blaine soothingly. "You just need a break, and some rest."

Kurt sighs and lets himself slump even further into Blaine's body.

"I know."

"How would you feel about take-out and a Top Model marathon?"

"Will there be cheesecake?"

"Obviously."

"Well then, I say make it happen, oh captain of mine."

Blaine grins down at him, and it turns into a kiss, and then another, longer and deeper, until finally he pulls away with a groan.

"Okay," he says. "Making cheesecake happen now."

He stands up and heads toward the bedroom area in search of his laptop.

"I like a man who knows his priorities," Kurt calls as he flops back against the cushions. He closes his eyes and tips his head back. "I can't believe we just had spring break. I already feel like I need another vacation."

"Summer's just around the corner, and then we'll have three whole months."

Kurt hums his agreement. Summer feels awfully far away, but the thought of it is heavenly right now.

"Hey, where are Rachel and Santana, anyway? They're usually home by now."

"Santana has a date with a girl from work – she was really excited about it, it was super cute – but I haven't seen Rachel all day. You should check my phone, though. I might have forgotten to take it off silent after this morning's lecture."

His voice is getting closer, and, therefore, so is he, so Kurt generously leans forward and clears off a spot on the coffee table, grabbing Blaine's phone as does so.

"You know I really hate when you do that."

"I know."

He presses a smacking kiss to Kurt's cheek and settles beside him on the couch once more, leaning forward and waiting for his computer to boot up. Kurt gets past Blaine's lock screen and turns the volume up to normal before checking his messages.

"Anything from Rachel?"

"Not a thing. I bet she's out with that guy from Movement – you know, the one we think is gay but that Rachel keeps insisting is flirting with her."

"Ryan something?"

"No idea. Hey, you did miss a couple from Cooper."

"Probably just wants to know if I think he's tan enough to be on Days of Our Lives. Darlene – you know, his agent – she got him an audition and he's been freaking out all week."

"Let's see. Nope, you're way off. He wants to know if should get his teeth chemically whitened."

"Oh, my god, seriously? Again?"

"There's a picture attached for your consideration."

"Of course."

"He also wants you to call him about...wait, what?"

He squints, as if that will help the words on the screen make sense.

CALL ME ASAP, little bro! I can't believe you're going to be a MOVIE STAR!!!

It hits him all at once. It's been two weeks since LA and the audition, the one Cooper set up without Blaine's knowledge and bullied him into as a thin excuse for brotherly bonding. There was a callback, too, a screen test or whatever it's called, but Blaine wrote it off as a good learning experience and hasn't mentioned it since. Still...

"Blaine, did Darlene call you today?"

Blaine pauses and turns around to face Kurt, laptop forgotten. His expression is complicated, and difficult to read through Kurt's sudden attack of anxiety.

"I was going to tell you after the cheesecake."

"And?"

"I got it."

It takes Kurt a moment to absorb the news, not only because it's so big, and not only because he's been caught off-guard, but because Blaine is more wary than excited.

"Blaine. That's amazing. I can't – you got the part? That's – you're going to be in a movie with George Clooney, oh my god. You're going to be in a movie. Blaine. I just – "

Kurt is aware that his voice has gone to that high and squeaky place, but he honestly doesn't care. He throws his arms around Blaine and pulls him close, trying to communicate with his body and his soul how thrilled and proud he is, now that the words have run out.

Blaine's response is tepid at best. Kurt pulls back.

"Why aren't you celebrating with me?"

"It's just – there are a few things we should talk about."

He's got the big, earnest eyes, and Kurt can't find it in him to be frustrated. He grabs Blaine's hand in his.

"Like the fact that you are absolutely taking me to set every day so that we can become best friends with George Clooney and score invites to his Italian villa for the rest of the summer?"

Blaine smiles, like he can't quite help it, and squeezes his hand.

"Not exactly. It's that whole summer thing, actually."

"Well, summer in LA wouldn't exactly be my first choice, of course, but slather me up with enough sunblock and I'll live. Ooh, and maybe Isabelle can get me a summer internship at the LA office!"

"Kurt, wait. Can you just listen for a second?"

His voice is sharp at the edges. Kurt blinks. He nods, also sharp. He's trying very hard not to be affronted. He doesn't let himself pull his hand away. Blaine is looking at him, searchingly, like he's waiting for something.

"The movie is shooting earlier than we thought. A lot earlier."

"When would you have to go?"

"Next week."

Kurt feels all of his excitement drain right away. From the look on his face, Blaine can see it happen.

"But that's – I mean, that's completely ridiculous. You're halfway through the semester, Blaine, they can't expect you to drop everything and move across the country for the next three months."

"They're not going to rearrange their shooting schedule for my convenience, Kurt. That's not how it works."

"I know that."

He's not sure what's going on here, exactly, but dread is starting to unfurl in his chest. Blaine is waiting, still, for something that Kurt may not be able to give.

"What did you tell her?" he asks instead. He's proud of the way he keeps his voice steady and calm.

"I told her I needed to talk to you about it."

"I'm not leaving in the middle of the semester, Blaine."

"I wouldn't expect you to."

He's so calm about this. Kurt snatches his hand away.

"I can't believe you're even considering it. You're really willing to throw away two months of work and an entire semester's tuition?"

"It's not like I'd be doing it for free. And NYADA will still be here when I'm done."

"I can't – have you even talked to Madam Tibideaux about this? Do you even know the school's policy on taking leave?"

"Not yet, but – "

"What if they don't just let you back in in the fall, Blaine? What if you're just tossing aside your education at the country's most prestigious musical theater program?"

"Okay, you're sounding a little crazy right now, Kurt. People do this kind of thing all the time."

"Yes, okay, fine, for stints on Broadway. You have to see that it's not the same."

"Why not?"

"It's a movie, Blaine."

"That's – Kurt, film acting is a perfectly legitimate art form, you know that."

"No, film acting is for people who aren't talented enough to cut it on stage, and/or attention whores who want the exposure."

"You're being ridiculous! Just two seconds ago, you were drooling over George Clooney's Italian villa!"

"It's George Clooney, Blaine, of course I was drooling! But he's not worth damaging your career over!"

"Damaging my career? Really? You think co-starring in a movie with George Clooney would damage my career?"

"Well, I guess not if your goal is to be a movie star. But I thought you were better than that. I thought you were at NYADA for a reason."

The anger in Blaine's eyes flares and then dims. There's silence for a moment, while Kurt teeters on the edge of triumph and shame.

"I thought so, too."

And there's that dread again, fully bloomed.

"What do you mean?"

"I don't know, I guess... I just thought it would be different. There's so much emphasis on technique and just...the mechanics of it all, I guess. It feels kind of...empty."

"What, you were expecting us all to hold hands and sing 'Don't Stop Believing'? Believe it or not, singing is about more than just vomiting your feelings onto a stage."

"There's no need for condescension, Kurt. This just – it isn't why I perform."

Blaine is doing that thing where he pleads with his eyes, but Kurt is too far gone to care. There are too many hot, unpleasant emotions shooting up, down, every which way beneath his skin, and it's all he can do to keep from bleeding them out all over the floor. He's afraid of what he'd see if he did.

"Is this because you didn't get an invitation to sing at Winter Showcase?" he bites out. "You figure you're not in the spotlight here, you'll just find it somewhere else?"

"No, Kurt. I'm not the one who cares about the spotlight!"

"Then why are you leaving me and our friends and everything you've worked for to go sell yourself out with George fucking Clooney?"

Blaine stares at him like he's been wounded, shot in the gut and bleeding out, and still looking Kurt square in the eye.

"It can't have escaped your attention that I've been unhappy."

It has.

Kurt says nothing, because there's nothing more to say, and because there's a lump clawing up his throat and he doesn't trust his own voice.

Blaine waits. Still, Kurt says nothing.

Blaine inhales, sharply, in the realization of defeat. He gets up, goes to the door, pulls on his outside layers with shaky hands and a clenched jaw.

"I'm out of here," he says, redundantly. "I'm done."

He walks out the door.

&&&&&

The loft is quiet when he slides the door open. It's a strange mirror image of earlier, Kurt on the couch with a book in his hand that Blaine can tell he isn't really reading. He's got his comfort hoodie on, the one he wears when he's feeling homesick or when he's studying for finals. It's the only evidence that he's moved at all since Blaine left.

"Hey," says Blaine. It's inadequate as a greeting, but Kurt isn't looking at him, and Blaine doesn't know where they stand.

Kurt turns around at that, and Blaine moves toward him, drawn like a magnet.

He's been crying. It's clear in the swollen redness of his eyes and the traces of tear tracks still glimmering on his cheeks. He hasn't even tried to hide it.

"Blaine."

It's choked off and nearly whispered, betraying every last ounce of his misery.

Blaine moves to sit next to him on the couch. He's careful not to touch, not yet, no matter how much he wants to. This time, they're going to talk.

"Kurt, I – "

"Blaine, I'm so sorry, you have to know that. I didn't mean it, whatever I said – I don't even remember, I just know that I didn't mean it."

"I know."

"I love you, and I'm proud of you, and I'm such a bitch when I fight with you."

"It's okay, Kurt. Honest. I know you're just...protecting yourself."

"It's not okay, I said horrible things. I always do when I'm – "

He cuts himself off. Tears start leaking out the corners of his eyes, but he doesn't look away. Blaine can't take it anymore. He reaches out and cups Kurt's cheek in his palm, soothing away the tears as they fall.

"I told you, sweetheart, I get it. That doesn't make it any less unpleasant to hear, but...I forgave you for all of that the second I walked out the door."

"Blaine."

"Can we please talk about this? Really talk."

Kurt sniffs. He blinks away the last of the tear droplets clinging to his lashes. He musters up a faint, relieved smile.

"Yes."

"I want this, Kurt. I really do."

He nods.

"I know."

"I might end up hating it, but I don't think I will."

"That's what I'm afraid of."

"What do you mean?"

Kurt looks at him for a moment, quietly, then shifts his gaze away.

"Have you really been unhappy here?"

"A little. More...unsatisfied."

"Help me understand?"

Blaine smiles, in spite of the heaviness between them. It's the first time Kurt's ever asked him something like that. There's so much of Blaine that Kurt seems to understand instinctively – they both tend to assume that there's nothing that he doesn't. Blaine reaches out a hand in offer. Kurt takes it.

Blaine mulls over his thoughts for a moment, turning the words around in his mouth until the right ones make themselves known. He strokes his thumb half-consciously over Kurt's knuckles.

"I've always loved performing because of that feeling, you know? When you're on stage and everything falls away until it's just you and the audience and that...connection."

"Yeah."

"It's like, they're listening, you know? And you have to listen to them, too. I love that."

Kurt looks at him, eyes keen, like they're seeing more than Blaine is showing. He nods.

"And...you don't get that here?"

He's trying so hard to understand. Blaine forces himself to hold his gaze.

"I don't like feeling like I have to prove myself every time I open my mouth. I don't like that the only reason people listen here is to find something to criticize."

"The point is to help you get better, Blaine, and stronger, so you have a fighting chance at surviving in the real world."

"I know that, I do. That doesn't mean I like it."

"I didn't either, at first. I spent the entire first month feeling woefully inadequate."

Kurt's never told him this before. It was during that awkward how-close-is-too-close phase of their post-break-up friendship, when they talked to each other twice a week and never touched each other's vulnerabilities.

"And then?"

"I don't know, I guess I just stopped taking it personally and decided to let it motivate me instead. If they weren't going to give me the accolades I deserved, I'd earn them. It's pushed me to be a better performer."

His back has gone straighter, his eyes bright and fierce, and this is the Kurt that Blaine has been so drawn to since the day they met. He has always been a boy who is unwilling to go unheard. He thrives, here.

It's one of the many ways in which they are very different people.

But Blaine has come to realize that, perhaps, this is not something to be ashamed of. He steels himself one more time.

"I don't know if I want to be the kind of performer they want me to be."

Kurt opens his mouth, closes it, breathes in shaky and sharp. His voice is careful when he speaks.

"What kind of performer do you want to be?"

"I...don't actually know. But I know I'll regret it if I don't try and find out."

Kurt seems to deflate. Blaine squeezes his hand. Kurt squeezes back.

"I'm so sorry I didn't see it."

"Don't apologize for that. It's not your job to read my mind."

"Then I'm sorry for making you feel like you couldn't talk to me about it."

"It's not your fault."

"Okay, you've got to let me apologize for something."

A smile turns up the corners of his lips. Blaine returns it.

"Okay, you can apologize for implying that I'm a sell-out attention whore."

"Oh, god, I'm so sorry, you have to know I would never mean that."

"I know, Kurt, I know."

"I was just so – so scared."

"Scared?"

"Blaine, you're going to be gone for three months."

"You'll be so busy with school that you won't even notice."

"No. You don't get to say things like that." The tears have sprung up once more, giving his eyes a glassy sheen that just about breaks Blaine's heart. "You know I – Blaine, I can't lose you."

Not again is left unspoken.

"You won't. I promise. It's just three months, and we're so much better now. It won't be like before, it can't be. We won't let it."

"What if – " Kurt's gone soft and choked off, like the words are too heavy for his voice to carry. "What if you don't come back?"

"What?"

"What if you love it there, and you want to stay, and I can't come with you, because I'm here, and I belong here, and – Blaine, I'm just so scared that you'll leave."

Blaine's heart, and his lungs, and just everything inside him contracts with pain and with love, and he can't waste another second not touching him. He takes his hand gently from Kurt's iron grip and takes hold of his face instead, thumbs brushing against his cheekbones. He can feel the skid of his heartbeat beneath the fragile skin of his temples. Kurt is looking at him so helplessly.

"I would never. Kurt, I won't, I promise. I don't care how much I love it, I could never love it more than I love you."

"Blaine."

And then they're pressed tightly together, bodies fitting with the ease of long practice. Blaine's face is buried into the slope of Kurt's neck, his own tears welling up and plopping to Kurt's skin under the force of too much emotion. Kurt's fingers are digging into his back, almost hard enough to hurt. They are, both of them, silent.

It's after long minutes spent breathing together that Kurt murmurs, "I really am so proud of you, Blaine."

"I know."

"I want everything for you."

"I know that, too."

"What if – "

"We'll figure it out."

Kurt sniffs.

"Okay."

Another long beat. Their bodies have settled into each other, now. Kurt's grip has relaxed enough to feel more like comfort than desperation. They've weathered this storm, battered but sturdy, and ready to re-build stronger than ever.

Blaine turns his head and presses a kiss into Kurt's skin, slightly salty where tear tracks have carved through the hollows left by tendon and bone. He smells clean, like him and like the air after a rain shower. He sighs, softly, and tilts his head down to nuzzle into Blaine's hair.

Blaine pulls back just enough to be heard.

"Did you still want cheesecake?"

Kurt laughs.

"Maybe in a little while."

Blaine smiles.

"Okay."

They've got time, after all.