That night (or early morning) Kurt woke up with his phone ringing. Before answering, he looked to the clock on his bedside table. 3 A.M.

- What the...?

Kurt quickly turned on his bedside lamp and picked up his phone, his heart already hammering with worry. His first thought was his dad. Another heart attack. Cancer again. Accident. Or maybe it was Blaine...

- Blaine?! – Kurt answered, seeing the name displayed on the phone.

- Kurt?! I'm sorry! – Blaine's words were slurred and kind of muffed.

- Blaine? Are you ok? Have you been drinking?

- No! Well, kind of! I'm sorry. I'm sorry for waking you! I woke you up, didn't I? I'm sorry...

- What happen?!

- I'm really sorry... for everything. You know that, don't you?

- Stop apologizing! Tell me what happened. Are you harmed?

Blaine paused to think about what to say or how to say it.

- We broke up.

There was silence between them while Kurt cursed under his breath, running his left hand through his hair.

- Where are you? I'm coming to get you.

oOo

An hour later, back in Kurt's apartment, Blaine was curled up in the couch with a half eaten piece of cheesecake in one hand and a cup of coffee in another.

They haven't shared a word since Kurt found him outside some unremarkable bar. He knew, sooner rather than later, his friend was going spill everything so he didn't need to push the issue and risk hurting him.

Meanwhile the silence was comforting for Blaine. He knew Kurt was giving him his space while still being caring and loving. He all but dragged him along the street to his apartment, gave him his last piece of cheesecake, his favorite comfort blanket and put some Roxy Music on.

With his back to the living room, Kurt was preparing some tea for himself when Blaine finally broke the silence.

- He said he loved me.

The older boy flinched a little. Love. That was a powerful word to be said.

- He said it and I said thank you.

Kurt couldn't help but chuckle a little.

- Well, I can kind of see why he got so upset. – He said trying to lighten the mood. It didn't really work.

- I don't understand Kurt! What's wrong with me? What's my problem?

Kurt returned from the kitchen area with his tea and sat down beside Blaine, putting a hand on his shoulder. Physical contact was still a touchy subject between them (no pun indented) when their emotions were all over the place like right now.

- There's nothing wrong with you honey!

Blaine smiled faintly at the endearment.

- You just haven't found the right person to properly fall in love with.

- No, I'm the problem. It's like I'm dead inside! I... I see a guy and I can perfectly if he's gorgeous or ugly, I can appreciate his sense of humor, his intelligence and in the start I even want to discover more about him and I want to have sex with him, - he pulls Kurt by his sweater as if to try and properly convince him - really I do. But it's like that interest fades like a burning candle and I'm left hollow. I think I'm... I'm broken Kurt.

Kurt's heart clenched for his friend. He had met Blaine when he was different, when he just dove in relationships and blindly followed his heart. Hell, he still remembered the whole GAP fiasco. But now, ever since the two of them broke up, it's like Blaine is unable of freely and utterly love, of giving himself unconditionally to another person.

Above all, Kurt can't help but feel a little guilty. Maybe he was the one who broke Blaine.

He moved a little closer to the teary ball of limbs he had in front of him and put his hand under his friend's chin to lift his head up.

- Blaine, look at me. Look at me, please!

Blaine looks up, into Kurt's eyes.

- There is nothing wrong with you, you're not broken and you're not dead inside. You're one of the kindest people I know. You give flowers to strangers, you help old ladies cross the street, you give your last dollars to the guitar player down the street and you cry every time you make me watch Armageddon.

- Oh God, when Harry Stamper says goodbye to his daughter, that's just gratuitous cruelty. – Blaine cries out.

Kurt chuckles for a moment (drunk Blaine has always been the funniest kind of Blaine). But he turns serious in a moment for the sake of his best friend's broken heart.

- The point is, you have a huge heart, and we both know how capable you are of loving.

There's a slightly uncomfortable silence as both males realize just what Kurt meant. Kurt is the first to punch the awkward away when he gets up and stretches his hands in the direction of Blaine and waves his fingers in a grabby manner.

- Come on, let's get you to bed. You can sleep in my bed, I'll sleep in Satan's room, she's out sleeping with whomever, I don't really know.

Blaine takes his hands and gets up, but wobbles a little when he's finally standing, actually having to hold onto Kurt to keep himself from falling. Kurt hugs/grabs his friend the best he can, until Blaine nuzzles his neck, inhaling deeply.

- You smell so good Kurtie! You've always had. It's like jasmine and vanilla and cinnamon and coffee all together. You should bottle it and sell it!

- Ok Jean Baptiste, let's go now.

Kurt drags Blaine to his room, throws him in his bed, takes off his jacket and shoes and tucks him inside the covers. He's leaving the room but he can't keep himself from looking back at Blaine, huddle up in his bed, looking so small, so young and fragile. Something deep inside of him stirs, but he pushes away the nagging longing feeling, thinking it sure is just the second-handed pain from what the poor boy have been through.

He doesn't think about how the image of Blaine in his own bed takes him back to the first time they slept together in that bed, moments after Blaine had told him he had cheated on him or how, for months, all he wanted was to take back that first bad memory and replace it with a happy one. He doesn't think about how his bed is probably going to smell like Blaine for days and how that's probably going to help him sleep better.

Instead, he backs away from the room and shuts the door carefully. He closes his eyes for a minute as to reassure his step, takes a deep breath to clear his head and gets to the next room to spend a sleepless night in a far too big, far too strange bed.

oOo

In the morning, Blaine opens his eyes and quickly realizes that, the pounding sound that has awakened him is actually his head punishing him for a rough night.

- Ouch, please don't do this to me. I swear to God I won't drink again.

- What a cliché hun. Try something like: "I'm a total twat for getting drunk over someone who doesn't deserve me".

Blaine looks up (far too quickly for his head taste) and sees Santana seating on Kurt's bureau chair.

- Oh God, please, not her! – He lets his body fall on the bed again, covering his head with the blankets.

- Kurt had to go to work, something about a crazy ginger making someone cry, I don't know, so you're left with aunt Santy, isn't that great? – She finishes talking in a sick childlike way.

Blaine is slightly thrown off by Kurt's absence. He needs him. But that is quickly forgotten when he feels the contents of his stomach making way into his mouth.

Thankfully Santana was ready for that and handles him a bucket, rubbing his shoulder until he's finished.

- There, there, it's all better now, right?

- Oh just marvelous! – Blaine says, his words dripping with irony. – I need a shower.

- Kurt said you might. He picked you some of his clothes and asked me to tell you, and I quote: "Get your ass in the shower, it will feel much better". Oh and he also asked me to give you this – she hands him a card – now, I have to run out, I'm late for work and I'm too old to babysit, but there's your water and some aspirin – she points towards Kurt's bedside table – and in the kitchen there are scrambled eggs and coffee. Make yourself at home! Bu-bye!

And with that she is gone.

Blaine looks to the card in his hands. It's a very beautiful picture of Parisian street and in the back it reads:

"I'm so sorry I couldn't be there when you woke up! My OCD patient got into a bit of trouble in the cheesecake factory and I had to do damage control. Call me as soon as you're up, let's do something today, 'kay? Stay strong and think happy things! Love You".

After showering, drinking what felt like 10 gallons of water and taking the beloved aspirin, he found himself wandering in the empty apartment, picking up some objects like he was seeing them for the first time, reading random pages from random books, having a peek on Kurt's designs, dancing along some music he had turned on the record player.

Truth is: he didn't really want to go back to his house. If he really had to be alone, he preferred this kind of loneliness: one that smelled of jasmine and vanilla and that held so many pleasant memories.

He couldn't quite believe he and Jacob were broken up.

But more than that, he couldn't quite understand why he was feeling so... ok with it.

Yeah it was a bummer. Looking back he still flinched at the memory of Jacob screaming at him in the middle of the small bar. Everybody watching as he cried and yelled felling obviously hurt and broken. He felt guilty, for sure, but you would expect that after 5 months with someone, a break-up would hurt more than a "little bummer" hurts.

- What is wrong with me? – He repeated out loud, but was greeted only by silence.

OoO

As for Kurt, his day was being utter and complete hell.

After hours of negotiation with the cheesecake factory owner, the man finally agreed not to press charges for all the mess Miss Ginger OCD had caused that morning. Then there were another couple of hours to calm the frenetic woman down enough for her to be able to get in the subway with her boyfriend.

OCD nightmare.

By lunch time he got a call from Isabelle asking him to be in the headquarters in half an hour to direct the fashion shoot for the next edition. Apparently she had a problem in her expensive apartment and wouldn't be able to get there on time. Something along the lines of: broken sink, flooded wooden floor, Louboutins in great danger, pissed off downstairs neighbor.

That misfortune brought him what was sure one of the greatest opportunities in the fashion industry he could ask for. This was the shoot for the main article that Isabelle and he had been working their asses off for the past month. Everything was already lined up, but it was a great responsibility to direct it by himself nevertheless.

When the end of his long day arrived he was completely exhausted, but satisfied. That kind of satisfaction that only comes when you kick major ass at your first photo shoot for Vogue.com. He was confident enough in his work, but the thought of the Anna Wintour's scrutiny still gave him chills. Fingers crossed.

He had been so distracted with the overflowing pride/tiredness/exhaustion and all the 7 hundred other emotions going through his mind and body when he got home late that night, that he didn't even bother checking to see if any of his roommates were inside the house. He went straight to the bedroom, stripped down to his underwear, picked up a fresh towel, and was on his way to the bathroom when a gasp startled him.

He turned on his heels to see Blaine, laid down in his bed, but perched up on his elbows, shirtless, wearing one of his sweatpants and literally gapping at him.

There was a moment of obvious awkward silence, until:

- Uh... I'm still here. – He said after what felt like an eternity - Wow, Blaine, you deserve a medal for that deduction. Pull yourself together man!

- I... I can see that. – Kurt stuttered, covering his chest with his towel – I kinda forgot about you, I'm sorry. I had the craziest day, you wouldn't believe it. Isabelle had some apartment problem and I had to direct the shoot by myself. Crazy, right? But it went well, apart from one model that passed out. She probably hadn't eaten since last season. Ahah... (Why am I still talking? Stop rambling! And oh god, I'm still practically naked.)

Blaine shared his incoherent state of speechlessness, with his words having a hard time traveling from his brain to his mouth.

- Wow, great. Wonderful... Yeah, nice. (What are you doing dumbass?! You're talking like Tarzan).

- Yeah, I... I'm going to take a shower, ok? (Are you asking permission?!?!).

- (Is he asking permission?!) Perfect! (Perfect?!) I'll see you in the kitchen then.

- Great!

Kurt all but run to the shared bathroom of his studio apartment. Inside of its safety, he pressed himself to the door and let his head fall back on it.

What was happening?! We have seen each other naked before!

Maybe that was the problem, they HAVE seen each other naked. Naked and sprawled all over a bed, panting and writhing... NO! DON'T! Don't go there. Get In the shower!

oOo

Fully dressed and greatly more composed after his shower, Kurt stepped into the kitchen and found Blaine finishing putting some sandwiches together.

- I figured you would be hungry.

- Starving really!

They sat in the small kitchen table and ate in silence.

- How are you?

- I'm... fine. I really am. I'm sorry for overstretching my stay, but I didn't feel like going home.

- Nonsense! You know you can be and stay here whenever and for as long as you want! But you must have been pretty much bored to death...

- Not for a minute. In fact, I got to take a look at your work. I'm sorry I know you don't like it when people do it, but I couldn't help myself...

Kurt stirs uneasily in his chair. If it had been someone else he would be so pissed, but he's comfortable enough with Blaine to show him his unfinished and unperfected work.

- You are really talented...I sometimes let myself forget about it, which is actually good 'cause one day, like today, you just do something, or I found something you've done that just astonishes me beyond belief! I'm like "God, he's so talented!".

Kurt bushes a little and lowers his head.

- Can I ask you a question?

- Sure...

- Why are you taking so much time finishing your designs? Why haven't you showed them to someone? Like Isabelle for instance? I'm sure she would not only love them but even help you get them noticed...

- I... I've been really busy, you know that.

- That's no excuse, we both know it Kurt...

They both smile at the reproduction of what Kurt had said to Blaine two days before.

- I... I don't know... I guess I don't think they're that good. – Kurt confesses and he already knows he's going to tell Blaine everything. He's usually very guarded of his feelings, he's known for having a perfect Ice Queen bitch glare, but with Blaine he doesn't feel ashamed of baring his fears and weaknesses – I set the bar really high, you know that. I look up to Alexander McQueen and Christian Dior and a see so much excellence that that I can't even share my work with my roommates if it's not on that level of perfection...

- Perfection is overrated.

- You're right, but the fact is: it's highly required these days. I guess unconsciously I began convincing myself that, since I wasn't good enough, I would never reach it. That maybe this isn't really for me, maybe spending my life working at Vogue and being a therapist isn't really that bad – He sighs – I miss the days where I didn't have any pressures or any goals when I was drawing a dress or a three-piece suit, like in high school... remember my junior prom ensemble?

- Vividly. – Blaine smiled at the memory.

- I did that in a week. A week! Now, it takes me 3 years to gather some random sketches that will never leave the paper.

- Please don't say that. Don't doubt yourself.

Kurt looks deep into his best friend's eyes and sees so much compassion and love that it gives him chills.

- You CAN do this. You are good enough. Perfection shouldn't be a goal, being authentic and doing what you love is what you should aspire. You were not made to live behind the cameras, to write eternally about other people's designs. You were made to make it big, to have your name in the lights, to have your talent shared with the world. Put yourself in your seventeen year old shoes and draw like you're making your prom night suit again. Forget McQueen and create with no expectations.

Kurt's eyes are filled with tears and he's touched when he sees that his emotional state matches the one on his best friend's eyes. Blaine pulls him for a hug and says in his hear:

- I wish you could see your work through my eyes... - he pulls back and looks right into Kurt's eyes - I wish you could see yourself through my eyes.

They stay like that for a while, just looking at each other and Blaine could swear he saw Kurt looking down to his lips for a split second before he draw himself back to his chair and gave a humorless laugh.

- Look at us, we look like girls on their periods, crying over the silliest thing.

Blaine follows his lead and pulls himself from the emotional moment they just had.

- It's not silly.

Kurt smiles at him, remembering faintly that same reassurance being said so many years ago.

- Promise me you'll try to overcome your fears of failure and get your ass down to work on your portfolio!

- I... I promise.

- And promise me every time you feel like doubting yourself you will call me for a "You Can Do It, Believe In Yourself" free session.

- Wha–

- Just do it, ok?!

- Ok!

- Nice boy! Now, go to sleep, you're probably exhausted because of that asshole who ruined your sleep last night.

- Oh he's not that bad...

- Doubt it!

They both laugh.

- But yeah, I'm dead tired.

- Sleep in your room tonight, I'll take the couch, I know how much you dislike sleeping in another bed.

- You're the best, you know that right?

- Of course.

That night Kurt slept like he hadn't slept in a long time, waking up well rested and happy.

Yes, being back in his bed was great, but Blaine's faint smell made it better, even if he wouldn't admit it.