After that night, uncomfortable silences start creeping into the time they spend together. It gets worse but they both ignore it. Blaine sits and watches Kurt carefully, willing him to go back to the uncontainable excitement of before but knowing he won’t.

Late one afternoon, Blaine breaks the silence with a shaky breath and then asks, “Are you sleeping okay?”

There’s a moment of shock and then guilt, Kurt’s eyes rimmed with fatigue and his teeth catching at the inside of his cheek in a habit Blaine knows he’s only picked up in the last few days.�

He looks caught by the question before he smiles and lies with a shrug: “Too excited, I guess.”

Blaine doesn’t know exactly how it all went wrong; how they ended up like this. They’ve stopped talking properly about anything and everything and only smile faintly as they grip each other’s hands and await the approaching unspeakable tragedy. He doesn’t know how New York stopped being the New York Kurt dreamed about but he knows it’s because he’s leaving Blaine behind in Ohio.

“Do you know anything about your roommate yet?” Blaine prompts, hoping to ignite a conversation.

Again, Kurt chews at the inside of his cheek and Blaine wants to tell him to stop. Then he shakes his head, flips a page over in his magazine and stares back down.

He won’t talk about New York except to reassure Blaine that everything is going to be fine. Even now, glancing up and seeing Blaine staring, instead of telling him about the potential pros and cons of all potential roommates Kurt just smiles vaguely and deflects. “No idea. Whether he’s accommodating or not though I’ll still manage to call you all the time. I promise. The campus library is open until ten during the week and there are bound to be cafes open late. I will find somewhere and it’ll become part of the ritual.”

Whatever emotion crosses Blaine’s features it stops Kurt from continuing. It doesn’t matter because by now Kurt has said it all before. Over and over, trying to fill the stretches of silence, hoping to make it all better:

We’ll talk every day. I’ll call you every single day.

I’ll tell you about all of it. It’ll be just like you’re there. And you can keep me up to date with all the Lima gossip.

I can come back some weekends. If I catch the Friday night bus we can have all of Saturday together.

And Blaine tries to agree but he doesn’t really. So when he says “Yes, absolutely, of course,” it’s a lie and they can both feel it. Blaine had thought that the viscous, heavy feeling of selfish jealousy and terror that had settled in his stomach in the beginning was as bad it would get. But this feels worse.

***

The night before Kurt leaves for New York Blaine stays over. Burt and Carole eat dinner with both of them except the conversation keeps lulling and it’s not as joyous as it’s supposed to be. When they’re done, Burt and Carole make it very clear that they’re going to stay downstairs for hours and watch TV. Burt squeezes Kurt’s shoulder as he walks past and what could be awkward—their eyes meeting intensely, the implication of privacy—is heartfelt and special.

And then Blaine’s leading Kurt up the stairs, spine too straight and the hairs on the back of his neck standing on end.

It’s stupid really. This is a few months, at worst. And they’ll have all the contact they could want emotionally, just not physically. And it’s hardly like their relationship is based on sex. They love each other. They’re over-reacting.

The door is closed behind Kurt and before Blaine can even mumble out a word, can even think about how impossible it would be to try to have sex like this, Kurt is crying.

It’s so stupid. It’s only a few months.

But Blaine pulls Kurt to his chest anyway, and doesn’t say it’s stupid, just lets his heart break and his shoulders shudder as he feels it rip through him. Not losing Kurt for a few unimportant months, but seeing him like this. Burrowing his body and his face into the warmth of Blaine’s embrace, crying hard but quietly, sniffling and drawing sharp breaths as his eyes well up and he blinks and the tears drip down his cheeks, into the material of Blaine’s cotton shirt.

Kurt is miserable and heartbroken and mumbling out, “I don’t want to go.”

Blaine clicks his tongue and his mind is made up. “Don’t say that.”

Kurt keeps crying, his tears soaking through to Blaine’s skin and burning hot there. Blaine won’t say his piece until Kurt has stopped though, won’t try to talk to him like this. Blaine doesn’t trust himself to string together coherent sentences while Kurt cries. He waits.

Eventually the sniffling shifts to bright, shining eyes staring up at Blaine as Kurt sucks in deep breathes. Then Kurt stops altogether and his cheeks blush as he realizes how badly he just fell apart.

It’s so stupid. �

But he says it again and he says it like he means it because in that moment he does, it’s true and terrifying: “I don’t want to go.”

Shaking his head and pushing Kurt back, they end up sitting across from each other cross-legged on Kurt’s bed. Knees touching, their hands with the ability to find each other but choosing not to. “Kurt, you want to go. It’s New York.”

Heavy silences for two weeks and now Kurt’s crying and saying he doesn’t want to go and all of the jealousy and fear Blaine felt in the beginning has been stifled, agonisingly, by the truth: You’re ruining this for him.

Kurt stares at him, mouth opening and closing as though he wants to say something and his eyes are still wet and he looks miserable.

“I hate seeing you like this,” Blaine mumbles, staring at his own hands where they’re clasped in his lap.

I hate making you like this.

“This is you dream. It’s your big break and your chance to get out of Ohio. Remember how happy you were when you found out? How happy you were two weeks ago? Remember all the planning and how long you spent looking up all the local cafes and theatres, god, the bus routes, your dorms, the campus? You were happy and now you’re miserable and I can’t stand it.”

Kurt keeps staring, eyes wet again, teeth working again at the semi-permanent indentations on the inside of his cheek.

“You’re going to go to New York and it’s going to be fantastic.” Blaine says, sounding certain and fierce. “And tonight is our last night together and we’re meant to be making the most of it.”

All Kurt wants to say is that he’s changed his mind. He’s staying in Lima one more year. He’ll work at his dad’s shop and maybe take some night classes and wait for Blaine. But he can’t. Because that’s stupid as well.

Then Blaine is on his knees and sliding both hands across Kurt’s cheeks and pulling him in for a heart-wrenching kiss. Soft and slow and as though this is the last chance for a kiss like this.

It can’t be though.

Kurt meets him after a long second of fighting it. Up on his knees and pulling Blaine’s shirt out of the back of his pants and pushing his fingertips into the skin of the dimples at the small of his back even harder than usual.

He moans into Blaine’s mouth and sucks on his top lip and every little movement, every pull and push and frisson of electricity aches because tomorrow it will all be gone. Blaine gets him naked somehow. Then he stands at the end of the bed and watches Kurt with dark eyes as he tugs his shirt over his head and then slides his jeans down his legs along with his underwear and steps out of them. He climbs back onto the bed, moves with practiced ease as Kurt slides down onto his back and waits for Blaine to kiss over his heart and slide up to hover above him.

They stare for too long, trying to gauge the night to come and the year beyond that. Then Blaine drops gently, presses skin to skin and moves, heaviness and heat and kisses along the line of Kurt’s jaw.

That’s when Kurt starts crying again. The sweat and the friction not nearly enough to make him forget and Blaine makes a noise, frustrated and growling, and pulls him in tighter, slides his hands down between their bodies and wraps his fingers around Kurt’s length, twisting and sliding, working him in the best ways he knows and finding him hard and wanting.

One last time. One last time, he wants. Before he lets him go.

But Kurt starts mumbling in his ear, rocking his hips as his legs come up and cross over Blaine’s ass, fingernails scratching up his back as Kurt whispers, “Love you,” and “Miss you,” and “Forever,” and his cheeks stain with tears.

It’s not meant to be like this. Kurt’s not meant to cry because of Blaine. And then Blaine’s own cheeks feel too hot and he’s blinking heavily through the tears and giving up. He pulls away to the side, disentangles from Kurt but then can’t and reaches, grabs at him and pulls him back across his chest, wraps his arms tight around his back as he pulls him in, fits him to his body once more and presses his mouth to his hair, crying as quietly as he can and trying to remember to breathe.

Minutes pass and Kurt’s heartbeat slows and his arms loosen where they’ve wrapped around Blaine’s waist. They’re still half-hard against each other. “You’d think we were never going to see each other again,” he attempts to joke but it’s one of the truest things he’s said in weeks.

Blaine hum into his hair, not trusting his voice.

Kurt tries again: “It’s like we’re the tragic star-crossed lovers in some Victorian novel.”

Another breath. “I’ll be back for Thanksgiving.“

You’ll call me every single day. You’ll try to make it like I’m there with you.

They lay like that for as long as they can. Only sore muscles and too much sweat making them rearrange and it makes Kurt speak again, still sounding so broken. “I wish I’d waited for you.”

Shaking his head, Blaine turns him in his arms, angles his face with a hand splayed over his cheek and forces Kurt’s eyes onto his. “Don’t say things like that.”

Kurt goes to speak but Blaine can’t and he pushes Kurt back and wriggles away, sits up and finds the blanket at the end of the bed and covers them both with it before he lays back down, empty space between them as he stares at the ceiling, collects his thoughts one more time, and then looks at Kurt. “Don’t. I hate seeing you like this. It’s stupid. This is…it’s a year. One year. It should be the best year. And it should be about New York and you and everything you ever wanted. You’re going to love it. Without me.” He shushes Kurt again with a look and the tips of his fingers over his mouth.

“And stop saying you’ll call me every day. That you’ll tell me everything. This is your dream, Kurt! Go out and meet people and do everything.” He grits his teeth. “It’s not fair on either of us if you miss out on things because you feel obliged to talk to me.”

“But—“

Blaine shakes his head and presses his fingers harder over Kurt’s lips. “Promise me you’ll live your life like you’re not waiting for me to catch up.”

Kurt’s thoughts stutter because the way Blaine says it is even and practiced and Kurt suddenly knows just as well as Blaine how many times that exact thought must have flashed through Blaine’s mind. Secret and dangerous and now given the power of voice.

Kurt wants to shake his head and say how terrible it is to demand such a thing from him but Blaine’s eyes are wide and earnest and wet. “Why?” Kurt whispers out. “Why would you ask me to forget you like that?”

Blaine shrugs. “Because for a decade, maybe more, this has been all you wanted and if I wasn’t here, tying you back to Ohio you would be so happy instead of crying and saying you don’t want to go anymore. I know how brave you are. I know how much you want this. And it’s my fault that suddenly you don’t.”

Oh my god. Kurt’s mouth opens and closes and every permutation of Blaine missing him and being scared of the distance and being upset about what he will miss dissolves and he’s left with reality. “It’s not.”

“I don’t want you to miss things and hold that against me,” Blaine responds quickly.

“I wouldn’t.” Kurt will say anything, anything, to make him stop, to make the conversation stop.

“I’m saying I won’t let you.”

Kurt’s mouth closes slowly and he stops himself before he says anything he’ll regret. He can’t stop himself from inching backwards though, from grabbing the blanket and pulling it higher and closer around him as he stares.

“What does that mean?” he eventually asks, working to keep his voice even.

Blaine’s half through swallowing thickly when it registers what Kurt’s asking and he chokes around his answer. “No. Oh god, no—“ because he’s not, he doesn’t mean that but Kurt’s eyes are wide, his lips thin as he tries to close himself off and not show the anger or the fear. Blaine swallows again and licks his lips. “What you’re thinking isn’t what I mean. Not at all. I’m not…” Oh god Kurt I could never do that.

He steadies and reaches out, ignores Kurt’s flinch as he lays his hand heavy and awkward over Kurt’s bicep. “I just don’t want you to be miserable. I want this to be the best year of your life.”

It doesn’t sedate Kurt at all, his eyes still wide and his mind turning Blaine’s words over again and again. His voice is sharp and accusing as he snaps and then shakes off Blaine’s hand: “How is it going to be anything good if you’re not there?”

Blaine scrambles and his heart aches because he’s making it worse. “Look, no, you don’t understand—“ Worse. “Kurt, please—“ Worse. “I’m not saying…” Kurt flinches again and Blaine reaches for him and Kurt’s eyes slip around the room, searching out his clothes. “I’m saying—“

Kurt looks hard at him, just once and then his eyes go back a spot behind Blaine on the wall. “What Blaine?” he snaps again.

Blaine takes a deep breath and then sucks in another, fighting down the hot twist in his stomach as it claws up his throat, the one that reminds him of the panic attacks he used to have in the weeks after the Sadie Hawkins dance. Another breath: “I’m saying all I want is for you to be happy,” he stresses. “If that means you don’t call me for a few weeks because it hurts too much, so be it. If it means I have to keep up with your adventures along with everyone else by reading facebook updates then…So long as it is because you’re too busy having fun, I will be able to live with that. I can’t stand to think of you miserable.”

“I’m not.” And he’s softened, relaxed into the bed because his mind has slowed and he knows what’s happening.

Blaine sighs. “You are.” He reaches out a third time and watches Kurt lean into the touch of fingertips to his neck, his eyes fluttering closed. “You need to go up there and be as fabulous as you can be. Like I know you want to be. You’ll get swept up in it once you’re there and this is me saying don’t feel guilty about that.“

Kurt wishes Blaine was sad or jealous, anything instead of…this. “But...”

“Kurt you…” Breathe. “I’m giving you a free pass on all of it. You being happy is so much more important to me than us right now. If waiting is going to hurt too much, if it’s going to make you feel like you have been for the last two weeks.” Don’t wait. “You don’t have to…You…” He squeezes his eyes shut. “Don’t wait. And trust that it’ll work out in the end. Trust that. I trust that.”

Kurt stares and turns his head, presses his lips to Blaine’s palm and whispers, so unsure, “You are. You’re breaking up with me.”

“I’d never.” He couldn’t. “I’m saying don’t stop yourself from experiencing everything that you deserve to experience because you’re missing me or feeling guilty. That’s what I’m saying. That’s all I’m saying. I don’t want you to hate me because I was the one bad thing about going to New York.”

Blaine can tell Kurt doesn’t really understand, can see how tired he is, how he didn’t want to fight, and he doesn’t know how they ended up here after things were so good for so long. But this is what Blaine knows to be right, knows that Kurt can forget him for a year and have fun and be joyous and brilliant in New York without him. It’s not forever, it’s not even real, but he can’t send Kurt off knowing that Kurt will miss him so much it aches.

Blaine can miss and ache in Ohio but Kurt shouldn’t while he’s in New York. Kurt being happy is so much more important to him than his own ridiculous need for constant contact, his desperate, hopeless want to be there with him every step of the way. Kurt is so much more important than that.

Kurt hasn’t said anything. He won’t. He doesn’t understand what Blaine isn’t saying and they both silently hope that it all slots into place tomorrow. That somehow they can wake up and be happy like they were a month ago.

For now Blaine gives a shaky smile and squeezes his eyes closed for a second. When he opens them Kurt’s staring at him with eyes bluer than ever and then shifting forward, kissing Blaine once, softly, on the cheek, before he turns his body and leans heavily back, pulling Blaine’s arms around his waist and interlacing their fingers.

Thankfully, Kurt falls asleep quickly: a combination of having spent the better part of half an hour crying and not having slept properly for weeks and the unavoidable comfort he always finds on the occasions he’s been allowed` to sleep with Blaine wrapped around him.

Blaine waits until Kurt’s breath is even and his body heavy and then he lets his mind flood. Allows the anxiety to overtake him and make his heart hammer and his throat constrict as he blinks back his own tears. It passes, in his experience, the feeling always passes.

He doesn’t know what he’s achieved, he doesn’t know if Kurt’s understood or if he’s just made it even worse than before. But Kurt will go to New York. He’ll be surrounded by new friends and experiences and he’ll forget how miserable leaving Blaine behind made him.

God, please let him forget.

And Blaine will do everything in his power to help him. He won’t call him whenever he wants to or text when something small reminds him of Kurt, reminds him of them together. When he gets into a fight with his dad he won’t write out his thoughts, his questions, his doubts, in an email and annoy Kurt with that.

He won’t do anything at all when he’s so lonely he can’t breathe. And he already knows he will be. He’ll manage on his own, it’ll pass, and Kurt will be happy. And then Blaine will be in New York with him and everything will be right. And that’s what matters.�

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