They make it to late October. It’s almost six months since Kurt left and almost four months since they last saw each other. Everything seems so perfectly fine that Kurt doesn’t realize anything is wrong until, suddenly, he does. He berates himself late into the night over that fact and wonders whether there’s something he should have done differently.

Blaine loses a case and can’t get out of bed on Sunday early enough to pick Max up and go for a run.

He skips an email to Kurt because every time he goes to write it, his eyes flood with tears and his throat closes up. He drinks a bottle of wine and then opens another, collapses on the couch, and watches the worst porn he can find until he’s come twice and is exhausted enough to sleep.

A few mornings later, there’s an itch at the base of his spine he can’t reach. That night, when he loses himself in more shitty porn and more cheap wine, there’s a pop up ad that makes his fingers hover before he closes it.

Meet Locals in Your Area.

�

He sighs and calls Kurt straight away.

~~*~~

Kurt misses his morning meeting to talk to Blaine for three hours straight and he doesn’t care in the slightest. Blaine hangs up feeling better and Kurt promises him, over and over, that they’re getting there. He reminds him that Christmas is soon and then it’s only a few more months. Kurt promises him that they can do this and that Kurt will do everything in his power to make sure that they do.

When he says that, there’s no mistaking the promise of whatever Blaine needs and Blaine has to bite his lip to stop from begging Kurt to come home.

~~*~~

Rachel—of all people Rachel—turns up on Blaine’s doorstep a half hour after he hangs up with Kurt. She has an arched eyebrow, a slightly ridiculous looking hat, and a billowing white coat. In her arms, she holds bags containing two different types of cake, ice cream, wine, and liqueurs. Around her feet, making every effort to tangle her up, is Max. Rachel Berry, Broadway’s rising star, is standing outside Blaine’s apartment, wind-swept, and over-loaded with food and a dog.�

He hasn’t seen her in something like a year and the only way she could possibly know where he lives is through Kurt, but none of that seems to matter. She sweeps into his little apartment, dumps the food on the counter in the kitchen, and then lets Max off his leash.

Blaine is getting sloppy dog kisses and laughing by the time Rachel crosses from his kitchen to where he’s hugging Max tight on the sofa. She clears her throat, none too discretely, and then, when Blaine looks up, she smacks him on the arm hard enough to make him flinch and snaps, “Why didn’t you tell me?”

“Wha—“

“I thought we’d reconnected after that night at my apartment and then you went completely off grid and I only managed to beat it out of Kurt a month ago when he started signing off emails with stupid little kisses! He started enjoying my stories about my love life! I knew something was up!” She takes Max off him and Blaine pouts. “And then Kurt won’t let me tell you I know because he doesn’t know how official you are and then I get a call in the middle of the night demanding I come over here and make sure you’re okay!”

She huffs and Blaine isn’t quite sure what to expect. Certainly not for her to crawl into his lap and give him a long, hard hug, but she does exactly that.

“You two have the worst timing,” she huffs into his chest and Blaine hugs her back and agrees.

~~*~~

He cries a lot that night. He isn’t even really sure why. When Rachel asks him if it feels like ten years ago when he was alone in Ohio, he says it doesn’t. When Rachel asks him if he’s unhappy or jealous or worried Kurt might be on a different page, he says no every time. She gets worked up again because she felt left out, and Blaine tells her exactly the same story Kurt told her: a five day date and they don’t really know what they’re doing.��

Sighing heavily, he pushes Max to the floor and moves to inspect the cakes. There’s no cheesecake, which is probably for the best, but there’s a dark, heavy chocolate cake and ice cream to go with it. After a moment’s consideration, her hands on her stomach as though debating the potential downside, Rachel agrees to a small slice as well.

When Blaine slides into a chair at the dining table, Rachel just looks at him with her eyebrow arched again, shakes her head, and purses her lips.

“What?” Blaine asks.

Rachel hesitates for a moment, and then she says, “I know exactly what went down on that table, and who, and if you think I’m eating anything off it, ever, you are mistaken.”�

Blaine’s laughing before he remembers he’s miserable.

~~*~~

They’re well and truly on their way to drunk and Rachel has already announced she is willing to share the bed with Blaine when they eventually pass out.

She takes a mouthful of wine and fixes Blaine with a hard stare. “You are sure, though, aren’t you?” she asks, fingers scratching behind Max’s ears as he sleeps curled up on Blaine’s lap.

“Of course,” Blaine replies.

Rachel waits a beat, lets it sink in, and then asks, “Of what?”

It makes him think, and then it makes him take a deep breath and remember all the things he hopes for. He stops feeling desperately lonely and ends up telling Rachel a hundred hopes and dreams for the future, only half of which he has dared to tell Kurt.

When he’s almost asleep, curled around Max, his head in Rachel’s lap, and the sun starting to rise, Rachel plays with his hair and tells him she’s heard pretty much all those things from Kurt before.

~~*~~

A few days later, Blaine has remembered how to breathe again. Rachel has decided they have a standing date to do dinner every Thursday night from now on and when Blaine protests and says he often gets busy with work, she just shushes him and tells him she can wait up for him until four in the morning.

Kurt emails more than usual, but his words are carefully chosen. He calls Blaine at least once a day and they’re never interrupted by anyone on Kurt’s end.�

Then Kurt Skypes him, and Blaine can’t help but cry when he sees his face set against the familiar backdrop of the black wooden headboard of his bed and the grey walls and the painting of poppies. Tears track down Kurt’s cheeks, as well, and he doesn’t bother trying to to hide them. He grins though, and eventually Blaine grins back.

They talk about work and the weather and Rachel for a few minutes.�

Then Kurt asks, “Tell me everything that went wrong?”

“It was nothing.” Blaine can see he’s ready to argue. “I mean it was nothing in particular. It’s just hard, missing you so much and not being able to do anything about it.”

“Is there anything we can do?” Kurt asks, genuinely wondering.

Blaine sighs. “I lost a case.” He hasn’t told Kurt all of this. He hasn’t had a reason to. “And then I couldn’t get out of bed in the mornings and I couldn’t be bothered cooking or going for runs or anything. I just felt like… Kurt…”

Kurt shushes him to stop him from crying again and wishes he could hug him tight. He hates that this always seems harder on Blaine because he’s sure it actually isn’t. “Are you okay now?”

Blaine nods. “I’m better. I still miss you, but I think I’m better.”

The conversation lulls a little and they talk about Rachel again. Blaine tells Kurt about the kitchen table and Kurt blushes red and apologizes for having ever told her anything.

“Oh, I like the scandal,” Blaine responds. “I miss having you on my kitchen table.”

Kurt scoffs and turns redder still.

“I watched really bad porn last week before…” He doesn’t know what to call it. “That’s where I saw the ad.”

Kurt knows Blaine saw an internet ad to organise hook ups. He knows that’s what made him call. Instead of being terrified, he’s just unbelievably happy that Blaine did call him and he’s told him so more than once.

“I think the bad porn was me trying to escape you… you’re like really, really good porn, Kurt.”

Kurt would probably be blushing less if Blaine didn’t sound so goddamn earnest.

“I miss you,” Blaine says, and this time it’s obvious he means the sex because his breath is shallow and his eyes are dark.�

That night isn’t the first time they get off with each other over Skype, nor is it the last, but it’s probably the best.�

~~*~~

Two weeks after that, Kurt finds out he can’t get home for Christmas. The chance for a holiday gets slimmer and slimmer until he has a handful of days and it makes more sense to stay. He calls Blaine just after Thanksgiving to tell him and he can hear Blaine crying even though Blaine tries so hard to hide it.

“I need you,” Blaine eventually admits. “I’m not even sure I need you more than you need me. Maybe differently. Maybe I just feel it creeping up on us. But I need you.”

Kurt starts crying then, telling Blaine, as he comes to realize it, that fifteen hour days at work are entirely because he has nothing to come home to. He tells Blaine that he needs him, too, and that he doesn’t know what they’re doing, not at all.

Kurt says he can’t lose Blaine again.�

Blaine says, “I’ll come to London.”

Kurt shakes his head and rakes a hand through his hair. “Don’t, that would be so expensive for you and such a waste. There’s no one here but me and you’ll miss your family—“

“I don’t need them. I barely even like them. I need you,” Blaine presses. “I need to feel you again, just… I need to touch you and know you’re still there.”

Kurt sniffles and takes a deep breath, unbelievably thankful that Blaine would dare to say it. “We’ll work something out. By New Years, okay?”

There’s another sniffle and then a “Yeah.”

Kurt spends the next two hours talking to Blaine in a low voice, exhausted, but forcing himself to stay awake with Blaine, talking touch and scent and taste, all the things they need but can’t have, until Blaine is groaning down the line and they both get off and feel better about things.�

~~*~~

Kurt tells Julius Matilda Warner to suck his dick. JMW, as they call him, is very much in charge of New Gen Vivienne Westwood, even though nobody is quite sure why. Kurt stands in his over-sized, somewhat ridiculous office and says that if he won’t let him go back to the states for the week over Christmas, then JMW can suck his dick. This is, of course, after exhausting all the reasonable, grown up negotiation techniques at his disposal.�

Kurt feels sick to his stomach as he storms out, but he doesn’t regret it for a moment. It is ridiculous that they need him to keep sketching, keep tweaking. The line looks good, the materials are chosen, and the clothes are being sewn. Julius is just a giant, talentless moron.

When he gets back to his apartment, Kurt books his flights back to Lima and then he calls Blaine. When the call from JMW comes through, Kurt puts a babbling, happy Blaine on hold and answers with a snapped, “What?”

It isn’t Julius, it’s his secretary, and Kurt immediately feels bad for snapping. Then he feels a whole lot better because Julius’s secretary is calling to apologize on her boss’s behalf and wish Kurt a Merry Christmas and a happy holiday.�

He needs to be back by the 28th and work all the way through New Years. He couldn’t give a flying fuck.

Blaine needs him and he is going to Blaine. Because he can.