Three days passed like three months, every second dragging into hours and leaving Kurt drained and exhausted and miserable. Completely miserable. He had been the one to suggest severing contact – Blaine had seemed more than content to just downgrade to friendship, but Kurt had pushed past even that. And he’d gotten what he wanted, so he had no right to feel like he did. He knew he needed time and distance to recover from Blaine, and not just the physical distance.

He tried to take it out on Timothy at first. It was an ugly tendency of Kurt’s, to lash out at everyone close to him, to refuse to let himself heal by hurting others. Unsurprisingly however, it didn’t work. Timothy became bewildered and hurt, and as much as Kurt hated himself, he couldn’t hate Timothy. The older boy hadn’t done anything wrong, he hadn’t known that Kurt had a someone waiting for him. That rested on Kurt alone. So he relented, holding tight to the other man because it was a twisted way of feeling close to Blaine. As if by pulling Timothy closer, he could somehow undo the damage.

He couldn’t.

It took him six days to break and call Blaine. He wasn’t proud of it, because Kurt Hummel was strong. If Blaine was going to give up on him, Kurt wasn’t going to go back begging. He had pride. But erasing Blaine’s presence didn’t erase him, didn’t erase the fact that Kurt felt compelled to text him or call him whenever he saw something new or amusing. He’d confined himself to his room the day Blaine broke up with him, but after that, he refused to let himself wallow. As much as he might hurt inside, he would not put his life on hold for Blaine Anderson. But he was sad, and he missed Blaine, so he called. There was no answer, and Kurt hung up before the customized voice-mail message kicked in. He didn’t call again.

His college friends came tentatively tip-toeing back. They’d stayed away that week before the breakup, between the mistake and the repercussion, and Kurt had done nothing to dissuade their absence, but as soon as they saw him fresh-faced and determinedly tearless, they welcomed him back with open arms. Kurt found solace in their mindless discussions about the latest trendy boutique that had opened up nearby, the newest Ryan Gosling movie, and weren’t their professor’s new shoes just awful, and wasn’t it funny how it was suddenly heating up? Wasn’t it funny that they had a month left to their first year in college? A month dwindled to two weeks, and Kurt clawed his way through his final exams. Studying soothed him and gave him something to concentrate on. And when, on the last day of his exams, Timothy mentioned something about a summer job available with a cousin of his starting in July – Kurt didn’t say no.

He was supposed to return to Lima for a few days, for the last time. He’d booked his tickets while on the phone with Blaine, excitedly discussing how he would attend his boyfriend’s graduation and then they’d get out of there forever. They’d never go back, Kurt had promised. And he’d heard Blaine’s smile on the other end, a little sad and a little sweet and all full of hope.

Kurt still ended up going, but by some twist of (luck? fate?) his flight was delayed and he arrived the day after McKinley’s graduation. He hugged his father at the airport, dry-eyed and firm-limbed, and immersed himself in the Hudson-Hummel household once more. Finn hadn’t been accepted by the army and had ended up going to OSU. Carole had been flirted with by a younger intern at the hospital, which Burt found more amusing than anything else. Hummel Tires & Lube was still going strong, although Burt was thinking of hiring help once Finn left again in the fall. Life moved on, Kurt realized, and he moved on too. It was better that way.

His only interaction with the Anderson family ended up being a complete accident. Carole sent him off for groceries one evening, playfully reminding him that he would always be a boy under their roof, and Kurt groaned and grumbled as expected of him. It was drizzling lightly as he slipped into his old car and drove to the store. With the velvet blur of twilight and the familiar flickering street lamps, Kurt could almost fool himself into being a high school senior again.

It was when he was perusing the dairy aisle, shivering under the blast of chilly air, that he heard his name being called. “Kurt?” His head turned, hands reflexively tightening on the handle of the shopping cart when he saw the familiar dark-haired woman standing behind him.

Mrs Anderson looked old. Her curly hair was liberally streaked with gray, and there were lines around her mouth that he couldn’t remember seeing earlier. That laughing mouth was turned down at the corners, dark eyes dimmer and shoulders wearier.

“Mrs Anderson. How are you?” Kurt smiled on cue, trying to ignore how dry his throat felt. Blaine looked so much like his mother, and while Kurt had often admired their likeness, it only served to dredge up memories now. Her eyes looked sad, like Blaine’s had that night, when he’d realized that Kurt had betrayed him.

“I’m well. I didn’t know you’d be returning to Lima for the summer.” Her tone was distinctly cool. It burned Kurt, filling him with a shame he didn’t understand. Mrs Anderson had always been warm towards him, certainly more so than Blaine’s father, and her icy distance made no sense to him. It was only after exchanging bits of mindless conversation, after Kurt left her behind, that he realized – she blamed him for breaking her son’s heart.

= = =

“When you said you had a summer job in mind, I had no idea it’d involve so much manual labor,” Kurt sighed dramatically. He cradled his iced latte closer, reveling in the cool sensation of condensation against his fingers. Across the table, Tim raised an eyebrow and smirked at him.

“Please. You used to help your dad out in his garage – I’m sure hauling clothes around is a piece of cake compared to that,” he teased. Kurt flashed him a smile, relieved to see how Tim’s expression softened. It was nice to have a friend he could relate to so closely. Tim shared his snarkier sense of humor, and although Kurt was still working on his style, there was a certain relief that he had a gay friend he would never be tempted to date.

It was an even bigger relief that Tim had somehow managed to get him a job in the fashion industry, albeit at a lower rung than Kurt would have preferred. The musician’s cousin sister was an up and coming designer, and was debuting her first collection during the fall fashion week – as a result, she needed grunts to help her arrange her designs. Tim had mentioned Kurt’s penchant for clothing, and that was how he’d ended up being hired by Gina Jilling. It was tiring work, but he was one of the few people Gina trusted to actually peruse the clothing – so Kurt couldn’t complain. Worst came to worst, it would look good on his resume.

“True,” Kurt acknowledged, “but there is a fine art to tuning an engine or refilling a radiator. Okay, not the latter so much.” Tim snorted out a laugh and shook his head. His coffee cup was already empty, but Kurt preferred to savor his own drink. Besides, he’d seen Tim surprisingly briefly throughout the summer. He’d missed him, Kurt realized with a sharp pang. And wasn’t that funny?

Tim glanced at his watch and got to his feet, the chair legs skittering across the ground and screeching. Kurt winced at the sound. “Let’s go, you can have that while we’re walking,” Tim spoke in an amused tone. Kurt grumbled appropriately but hauled himself up, reaching for his three fourths-full cup. Tim hooked his arm playfully through Kurt’s, and it sent the briefest of flutters through his stomach – but no more than that. Still, he couldn’t help but press himself closer as they stepped outside. There was a brisk wind, and he’d neglected to bring a coat, and he was drinking iced coffee. It had absolutely nothing to do with the fact that he’d seen a head of dark gelled hair out of the corner of his eyes. Nothing to do with the way his gaze had lingered on those fitted jeans, cuffed to reveal an inch of ankle. No, it had nothing to do with that at all.

“By the way,” Tim commented as they made their way through Times Square, “when you were speaking of fine art…” He grinned roguishly. “Gina wanted me to tell you, there’s an agent interested in you.” Kurt arched a surprised eyebrow, loosening his grip on Tim’s arm just a fraction.

“Did you just call me fine art, mister Ward?” he asked, feigning disbelief but preening all the same. Tim chortled as they descended down the steps of the subway station. His firm warmth was reassuring against Kurt’s body. He prided himself on being a good height, and thus didn’t meet many boys who towered over him – and Tim didn’t either, not really, but he exuded a sturdy confidence that made him appear broader and bigger than his lanky 6-foot frame.

“Yeah yeah, soak it up,” he responded with a catlike grin. “A modeling agent, by the way. I think she saw you trying out some of Gina’s pieces the other day.” Kurt flushed under Tim’s knowing stare.

“They were perfect for me, you can ask her!” he defended himself, because he hadn’t done it without permission – Gina had fully approved of him donning a few of her outfits after most of the other workers left. Kurt had thoroughly enjoyed the prolonged dress-up session, but the thought that someone else had seen him in them… but apparently, they’d liked what they’d seen?

He pursed his lips. “I don’t trust you as far as I can throw you, Timothy, but I’ll see what Gina has to say tomorrow.” He was about to say more, but at that exact moment, the subway car rattled in. His words died in his throat as the doors whizzed open.

Standing in front of him was Sebastian Smythe.