"So, can I come over?" Blaine asked, sliding his fingers over the piano keys. Kurt's sigh came down the line and Blaine sagged with disappointment, knowing what he was about to say.

"You'd better not, there are crowds of paparazzi hanging around outside. The police cleared them all away an hour ago, but most of them are back, just not being as conspicuous. Rachel got harassed by them when she left earlier."

Blaine picked at the hem of his shirt. "I just really want to see you."

"I know, I do, too, but it's best if you don't come over just now, they want to try and get us to comment on that article that was published this morning about how I've been insecure and controlling since those cheating allegations or whatever it is they said," Kurt sighed. "You don't want to get caught up in that."

Blaine dropped his hand from the piano. "We're letting these reporters and paparazzi ruin our lives, Kurt. Why does everything we do now have to be dictated by them?" He stood up. "You know what? Screw them, I'm coming over anyway." He hung up before Kurt could protest and left his apartment, snatching his keys on the way out.

He flagged down a taxi once he was out on the street, a little surprised that there was nobody lurking outside his building waiting to try and get him to answer their questions. He jiggled his leg impatiently as the cab weaved through the city traffic until it reached Kurt's building and Blaine could see the paparazzi scattered along a block of the street. Those nearest eyed the cab as it pulled up to the curb, but Blaine paid them no attention. He paid the driver and got out of the taxi, walking calmly into Kurt's building, ignoring the shouts and cameras.

"Is it true Kurt is demanding a say in all of your future performances and interviews?" one man shouted.

A large, bald man pushed his way forward until he was less than a foot away from Blaine. "Blaine, do you have anything to say about the reports that Kurt is considering paying someone to accompany you while you're out of town to make sure what happened last weekend in LA doesn't occur again?"

The building's door swung shut behind him and the shouts and sounds of people calling his name and trying to get a picture were muffled. He took the elevator up to Kurt's floor and knocked on the door.

"You shouldn't have come," Kurt said when he let him into the apartment.

Blaine shrugged. "It was fine; I don't know what you're so worried about. They stick cameras in my face and yell questions at me, but if you just ignore them and go about your business as normal," he shrugged again, "it's fine."

Kurt stepped closer and let his head drop down until his forehead rested on Blaine's shoulder. Blaine wrapped his arms around him and held him close, pressing a kiss to his head.

"I've tried doing that, but I just get swamped by them whenever I go out these days," Kurt said in a muffled voice. "I'm not used to getting this much attention from them. Why are they bothering me so much these days, anyway? And why do they keep writing all those false stories about me and our relationship? What are they hoping to achieve from all of this?"

Blaine hugged Kurt tighter, giving his boyfriend a comforting squeeze. "I don't know, baby. I don't know why they're targeting you so much."

"I wish we could go away somewhere where nobody would bother us," Kurt mumbled wistfully.

"Me too, sweetie, but all of this will blow over soon," Blaine assured him. "They'll get bored of us and leave us alone. Unfortunately, we're stuck dealing with it until they do."

Kurt sighed and lifted his head, dipping down to kiss Blaine softly on the lips. "You're right; it's just hard some days."

Blaine nodded and gave him a soft, lopsided smile. "I know," he said quietly. He gave Kurt a quick kiss. "Do you want to watch a movie or something?"

Kurt nodded and Blaine took his hand, leading him over to the TV where he picked out a DVD - some mindless romantic comedy that didn't require him to think. He dropped down onto the couch and pulled Kurt close, holding him against his chest and smiling when his boyfriend's arms encircled his waist.

Kurt gave up on the movie within the first few minutes, burying his head in Blaine's chest instead and tracing lines and patterns across his torso with his finger, causing Blaine to shiver every now and then. His movements slowed after a while, before stopping altogether and Blaine wondered if he had fallen asleep until he felt him press a kiss to his chest. He slid up Blaine's body to start kissing his neck, mouthing over his pulse point and his throat.

He groaned softly and gathered Kurt against him, pressing their lips together. He could feel Kurt's need to be held and kissed by him. They had spent less time together since Blaine had taken him out for cheesecake after his return from LA, and it was all because of lying, conniving reporters and their supposed ‘sources' inventing ridiculous stories about Kurt and their relationship. He knew it was taking its toll on Kurt, but he didn't know what to do to help; he was at a loss. The police could only keep the paparazzi back if too many of them crowded around the outside of Kurt's apartment or studios. It was hurting their relationship. They couldn't see each other as often and as a result they still hadn't fully recovered from that article last weekend.

"I wish I could do something to make them leave you alone," Blaine murmured against Kurt's lips. "I hate how things are right now."

Kurt brushed his nose against Blaine's. "Me too, but like you said, they should get bored of us soon."

"Yeah," Blaine whispered, running his hands down Kurt's back, loving the feel of his muscles beneath his hands. "Yeah, they will."

He didn't think it was possible, but things got worse as the days went by. Everywhere Kurt went there were paparazzi and he was still at a complete loss as to how they always seemed to know where he was going to be and when. New articles about him were being posted on websites almost daily, most of them featuring lies about him and Blaine, but some of them were frighteningly true and Kurt still had no idea where they were getting their information from.

He hit an all-time low one Thursday afternoon when leaving the studios. All his frustration, anger, and his desperate wish to just be left alone to live his life in peace again bubbled up to the surface and then boiled over.

He snapped at the ever-present paparazzi to ‘fuck off and go find somebody else's life to ruin for once', before he got in the car to take him home. On the journey home he found himself wistfully reminiscing about his life before everyone found out that he and Blaine were together, when he only got bothered by paparazzi occasionally and hardly ever had articles written about him on entertainment news or celebrity gossip websites.

He pushed roughly past the paparazzi outside his building and headed up to his apartment, teetering on the edge of a breakdown and planning to spend the rest of the day watching comedies on the TV, knowing that the slightest thing could cause him to tip over the edge.

Shouldering open his apartment door, he threw his keys onto the table and let the door slam shut behind him, before slumping against it with a sigh and closing his eyes.

"Bad day?"

He opened his eyes to see Blaine standing in front of him, his expression changing to one of deep concern when he saw Kurt's face.

"What happened?"

Kurt shook his head and moved away from the door. "Nothing happened, just the same old shit I've been dealing with for weeks now. I've just reached my limit with it, that's all." He threw himself down onto the couch and Blaine sat down next to him, taking his hand and stroking the back of it soothingly with his thumb.

"I'm so sorry, Kurt. I wish I could do something to help you, to make them all leave you alone."

And that was it. He didn't know why words that were intended to comfort him did it, but they did. He tipped over the edge.

He ripped his hand from Blaine's grasp. "I wish you would stop saying that all the time! You were the one who caused all of this; they never bothered me this much until you came along! You caused me to have to live like this, to not be able to walk down the street without fear of being mobbed or photographed!" he snarled, jumping to his feet and glaring at the view of the city out the window, unable to look Blaine in the eye.

All the pent up emotions from the constant harassment from the media and the aftermath of what happened in LA were exploding out of Kurt. He couldn't take it anymore - any of it. He both meant and didn't mean what he was saying to Blaine; it was because of their relationship that all of this was happening, but it wasn't Blaine's fault.

Out of the corner of his eye he saw Blaine get to his feet, his hand stretched towards him in placation. "Kurt..." he whispered, his voice choked. He reached for Kurt's hand, but Kurt stepped out of his reach. The hand dropped back to his side.

"I know it's been hard for you these past few weeks and I know that most of the things they're writing about you have to do with me," he said, moving hesitantly towards Kurt, "but it will all blow over soon," he finished weakly.

Kurt gave a hollow laugh. "That's the problem, Blaine, it won't. There is a person or people out there who keep informing the media of our whereabouts and of private details about our relationship and as long as people are interested in it - which they will be for as long as we have fans - they are going to keep writing about it." He closed his eyes. "I should have known dating you was a bad idea, I should have known it would only ever lead to this," he said in a flat voice devoid of all emotion. "Rachel warned me about it and my dad was unsure about me dating another celebrity - I should have listened to them."

He opened his eyes and turned to face Blaine. The shorter man was staring at him with a growing frantic panic. His face was slightly creased with hurt, his lips parted like he was about to say something, and his hands were hanging limply by his sides.

"My friends and family only supported a relationship they didn't really think was good for me because they knew I was happy," Kurt said, still in the same monotone voice - it was like a stranger was speaking. "But I'm not happy anymore." He swallowed. He could feel a trembling starting in his fingertips and spreading quickly up through his hands. Clenching his fists, he turned and headed for the door.

"Kurt, wait, please!" Blaine shouted after him, his voice pleading and panicked.

The trembling reached his arms as he gritted his teeth and snatched up his keys, ignoring Blaine.

"Where are you going? Kurt?" Blaine broke into a run and grabbed Kurt's arm just as he placed his hand on the door handle.

"Don't," Kurt said sharply and Blaine's hand dropped from his arm. "Just, don't." Without looking back at Blaine, he yanked open the door and strode out of the apartment. He strode down the hall and began stabbing at the elevator call button.

"Please, don't do this, Kurt," Blaine begged and Kurt could hear tears in his voice. A broken sob sounded behind him as he stepped into the elevator and pressed the button for the ground floor. The trembling reached his chest - it was difficult to breathe.

He heard feet running behind him and turned to see Blaine about to enter the elevator. "Blaine, please, don't," he said harshly.

Blaine stopped on the other side of the elevator doors, his cheeks stained with tears and his cardigan hanging off one shoulder. The elevator doors began to slide shut. "Please don't leave me, Kurt," he whispered brokenly. "I love you, I can't-"

The doors shut and the elevator began to move smoothly down to the ground floor. Kurt's legs were shaking too badly to hold him upright so he leaned against the walls, trying to breathe through the squeezing, burning pain in his chest. The doors opened with a soft chime and he lifted his chin and put all of his energy and willpower into walking across to the doors as if nothing had happened, as if everything was normal and he wasn't falling apart inside, breaking into thousands of tiny, shard-like pieces that punctured and sliced at him with their razor-sharp edges. He quickened his pace and strode out the doors and was a good distance away from the building and flagging down a cab before the paparazzi realised he was there. They had just started to try and get a picture, just started to yell his name, when he got in the cab.

"JFK airport, please," he told the cab driver, who nodded and pulled away. Kurt watched his apartment building disappear from view.

He pulled his phone from his pocket and dialled Rachel's number. His head was too muddled to know if she would be in a show right now, but luckily it must have still been too early for that as she answered after a few rings.

"Hey, Kurt!" she greeted, her voice bright and cheery.

"I'm going away, I don't know for how long, but I need to get out of New York."

There was a brief pause, then, "Wh- What?"

"Can you call Taylor and let her know that I won't be into work tomorrow? I can't do it myself; she'll start asking too many questions." He pressed a hand to his stomach - the broken shards of him were piercing and slicing at his organs.

"Of course I can," she assured him hastily. "But, Kurt-"

"Don't, Rachel, I can't... I just can't," he croaked. His throat was starting to burn now.

She seemed to understand. "Ok, but where are you going?"

"Lima, I'm going to stay with my dad and Carole for a while." He gripped his phone harder in his trembling hand. "Please don't tell Blaine where I'm going."

"What?" Rachel sounded shocked.

"Just, please don't."

"But, Kurt, why-?"

He cut her off. "I have to go." He hung up before she could say anything else and dropped his phone into his lap, pressing his hands over his eyes as the tears started.

His phone rang on his lap and he moved his hands away from his face and squinted at the screen through his tears, expecting it to be Rachel calling back to demand an explanation. But it wasn't Rachel's name on the screen - it was Blaine's.

Biting back a sob, he switched his phone off, feeling tears drip from his chin and jaw as the ringing cut off. His shoulders shook as he held in the harsh, racking sobs trying to escape. Damp patches began to appear on his jeans and shirt from his tears, but he didn't raise a hand to wipe them away, just left the tears to slide down his face and stain his clothes as the jagged shrapnel of his broken heart tore up his insides.

The elevator doors slid shut and Kurt was gone.

"-live without you," Blaine finished in a whisper that ended on a whimper as he fell to his knees. Sobs wracked his whole body and Kurt's cold, dead voice, saying he was no longer happy now thanks to him, echoed over and over inside his head.

Being beaten up outside his first high school for taking another boy to the dance? That pain was nothing like what he was experiencing now. Now he knew where the expression ‘a broken heart' came from, except every part of him felt broken, shattered beyond repair, not just his heart. He felt like he should be crumbling into millions of tiny pieces, like the remains of a delicate porcelain vase that had been thrown onto concrete from a great height.

A determined voice suddenly spoke up in his mind: ‘you can't just let him run away from you; you can't just give up without a fight.'

He staggered to his feet and sprinted for the stairs, knowing they would be faster than the elevator if he ran. He took them three, sometimes four, at a time, leaping and almost stumbling his way down them, clutching at the handrail to stop himself from falling. He threw himself at the door leading off to the ground floor and pounded into the lobby just in time to see Kurt getting into a taxi further down the street. He skidded to a halt and watched numbly as the cab sped off down the street. The doorman was saying his name behind him, sounding concerned, but Blaine couldn't do anything but stare at the spot where he had last seen Kurt.

A phone started ringing behind him and he jumped slightly and then pulled his own phone out of his pocket as he realised that all was not yet lost. He dialled Kurt's familiar number with fingers that were shaking so badly it took him several attempts to press the correct buttons. He held the phone to his ear, his breathing quickening with each ring, until suddenly, too soon, the call went to voicemail. He hung up and called him again; this time it went straight to voicemail and Blaine knew that Kurt had switched his phone off. He moved back through the door leading to the stairs, away from the curious doorman, to leave him a message.

"Kurt-" he hesitated for a moment, unsure what to say, then licked his dry lips and tried again. "Kurt, please come back so we can talk. I know things haven't been easy lately, but we can work something out - I know we can. We could move somewhere out of the city, somewhere where they'll leave us alone. Just please don't leave me, I love you so much, Kurt." He bit his lip as the tears started again. "I love you so, so much," he whispered and ended the call, slumping against the cold concrete wall.