Chapter 13

Warning: Adult content this chapter

June 2015

Kurt tapped on the door to the guidance office at NYADA Prep, the notice for Blaine's parent-counselor conference in his hand.  He swallowed nervously while waiting for the guidance counselor to open it, and looked down, checking the French cuffs on his shirt, and straightening his tie.  He figured he looked at least twenty-five in this thousand-dollar suit borrowed from the Vogue vault.  Like an authority figure, not a college student.  Not Blaine's lover.  Itll be okay.  Nobody will suspect - -

The door swung open and a very attractive man in a form-fitting sweater and neatly tailored slacks was holding out his hand to shake his.  “I'm Frank Gerardi, the guidance counselor for the junior class here” he smiled, all bright shiny smile and sparkling hazel eyes. He looked almost like a thirty year old version of Blaine, and Kurt immediately liked him because of the resemblance.

“You must be Mr. Hummel?”

“Yes, Mr. Gerardi, it's a pleasure to meet you.”  Kurt shook the man's hand, noticing the firm grip.  It might be his imagination … but he thought Mr. Gerardi was holding on just a beat longer than strictly necessary.  He smiled politely and freed his hand.

“Call me Frank. Come on in and have a seat.”  Frank gestured to the desk in the center of the room.

Kurt took a seat opposite the desk and looked around.  Frank's office was small, but there were surprisingly tasteful works of art on the walls by a well known gay New York City painter.  Prints, of course, but nicely framed, and Kurt's eyes lingered on them while Frank sat at the desk and opened a file.  

“Those are lovely,” he commented.  “Ross Bleckner, right?”

“Yes,” Frank said, glancing up at them.  “I love his work, don't you, Mr. Hummel?”

"Call me Kurt.  Yes, Bleckners work is wonderful," Kurt nodded. “So beautiful, but so sad …” he smiled slightly at Frank.  “But let's talk about Blaine.  How's he doing?”

“Hes doing quite well.  As you know, he's president of the junior class … straight A's.  More extracurriculars than I'd think possible for one kid to manage, but he's doing it.  I'd say he's on the fast track to NYADA.  I understand you and Ms. Berry both go there.  I imagine you'll be encouraging him to go there?”

Kurt crossed his legs awkwardly.  “Well, if he wants to.  I don't think he should have to go to NYADA just because his sister does.  In fact, I'm a little concerned that with her reputation there, for good and … well, less good … Blaine might be under a lot of pressure following in her footsteps.  Id like to see him at least consider another school.  Maybe Tisch or Juilliard.  He's a wonderful pianist, you know.  There's just so many things he excels at … performance, singing, acting.  And he's so smart!” Kurt enthused.  Frank raised an eyebrow and Kurt hesitated, catching himself.  He tugged on the impeccable front seam of his trousers at the knee, and shifted in the chair.  “Well, I don't have to tell you that as his guidance counselor, I'm sure.”

Frank nodded, picking up the folder.  “Yes, he has done wonderfully here, and I'll keep your thoughts in mind about other schools for Blaine.  Next year will be college application time, and Blaine will have his choice of schools with his record here and his SATs.  This is a summary of his transcript and all his standardized testing scores.”

Kurt took the folder Frank handed him and looked over the scores carefully, his pride in his accomplished boyfriend growing by the second.  As he perused the list, Frank remarked, “It's really wonderful what an interest you've taken in Blaine.  I've spoken to his sister many times, and I'm glad Blaine has that type of support at home.  He's had a very difficult life, and probably needs more support than even the average teenager.  He's very lucky to have you two as guardians.”

Kurt coughed slightly, setting the folder on the desk.  “Well, Rachel is his guardian, not me.  I'm just a friend of the family, helping out while she's away.  It sounds like everything is going according to plan, so …”

“Well, there is one area that we're concerned about with regard to Blaine.”

“What?  Something's wrong?"

Frank waved a hand.  “Don't be too alarmed, Kurt … it's just that there may be a slight issue with Blaines private life that his school psychologist has raised.”

Feeling himself getting pale, Kurt whispered, “Psychologist?  I don't understand.  He seems perfectly fine to me.  And he's got a lot of friends, and most of them are great kids - - ”

“The prom was last week, you're aware?”

“I - I think Blaine mentioned - -”

“Are you and his sister aware that he took an older gentleman to the prom, and that they seemed extremely … intimate?  Some of the teachers were chaperones and were concerned about the age difference.”

Kurt gulped.  “I - I had no idea - -”

“I figured as much.  His name is Dr. VanDelay.   The chaperones told me that he seemed young for a doctor, but of course he'd have to be at least 25, possibly older.”

Kurt passed a hand over his eyes wearily.   Blaine had come up with what he believed was a brilliant plan of inventing an alias for Kurt to use at the prom with everyone but Blaine's closest friends, who all knew who Kurt was, of course, and were sworn to secrecy.  Unfortunately, Blaine's irrepressible sense of humor had taken over and the story had grown in ridiculousness with every introduction Blaine made.  By the end of the night, he was Dr. VanDeLay, Assistant Chief of Emergency Proctology at NYU.  It had seemed funny and harmless enough at the time, but he hadn't considered the possible fallout from Blaine's antics.

“Well, technically, Blaine is 17 and he's old enough to see whoever he wants, even - - even a doctor,” Kurt said feebly.

“We realize thats true, legally, but still we thought you and his sister should be aware.  And whats concerning is that Blaine has been going to regular counseling once a week with our school psychologist, Ms. Shen, since he got here, and hid this relationship from her.”

“Oh?” Kurt asked, sweat breaking out in a fine film over his face.

“Blaine had previously told her in their therapy sessions that he had no relationship or interest in having any.  The fact that he hasn't been honest in therapy is concerning.  And when she brought up Dr. VanDeLay in session this morning, he was borderline rude and told her he was of legal age and his relationship is none of her business.  He walked out of the session."

Kurt sighed. "Im sorry to hear that."

"Yes. Blaine needs therapy even if he seems, on the surface at least, to be coping adequately with his issues.  Ms. Shen feels strongly that he's still working through his grief reaction to losing his parents, and may be looking for a father figure in this man.  She met Dr. VanDeLay at the prom, and felt that he was evasive, which made her even more concerned.”

“I see…”  Kurt remembered Blaine's school psychologist.  She was very young, very persistent, and very perceptive, and he'd quickly realized that he needed to cut the conversation short and escape at the earliest opportunity.  But he wasn't able to do so until after Blaine, a little tipsy from spiked punch, had regaled her proudly with tales from the emergency room exploits of the fictional Dr. VanDeLay, most of them taken from Blaine's recollection of his beloved George Clooney's character on "ER".

“Ms. Shen asked to see you when you came in, actually.  She'd like to discuss all this with you in person.”

Kurt's head popped up, and he searched wildly in his mind for something, anything, to get out of this as Frank picked up the phone to buzz the psychologist.

“Oh, is that the time!” Kurt practically shouted.  “I - I'm sorry.  I have a class to get to.  I can't meet with her right now, but … but I'll call her later, okay?”

He stood up quickly, jutting his hand out to shake Frank's, who again gripped it a bit longer than necessary.  “Certainly, Kurt.  Er … listen, I know this is borderline inappropriate, but I'd love to buy you a cup of coffee whenever your class gets out …”

“I'm sorry, but I'm in a relationship,” Kurt said abruptly, desperate to get out of the school.  He'd forgotten about the chaperones at the prom, and worried that at any moment one of them might walk in here and recognize him as "Dr. VanDeLay". He backed away, panicking, and banged his head into Frank's door as he opened it with too much haste.

“Kurt … I apologize if I offended you - - “

But Kurt had fled.

As he raced down the hallway, the dismissal bell rang, and students poured out of their classrooms around him.  “Hey, Dr. VanDeLay!” one called.  He groaned and turned, seeing a casual friend of Blaine's from his LGBT Student Union club that he'd met at prom.  

“Hello … Stuart, isn't it?” he said, nervously looking around at the milling students.

“That's right, sir.  Here to pick up Blaine?  He's talking to his Drama teacher.  Room 108.”

“Th- thanks - - Stuart.  Have a good day.”  He hurried to room 108 and stood outside, his head down, until Blaine bounced out of the door.  He grabbed Blaine by the arm.  

“Hey, Kurt!  My conference all done? Did they tell you what a good boy I am?”

Kurt glared at him. “Keep it down, will you?”

Blaine blinked.  “What?  Why?”

“I'm known as Dr. VanDeLay all over this school because of you and your prom,” Kurt hissed.  “Not Kurt, remember?  You're cut off from watching Seinfeld reruns.  Or ER for that matter.”

“Kurt, it's okay, remember?  I told most of the people your full name is Kurt VanDeLay.  See how I think of everything?” Blaine said, vastly pleased with himself.

“Blaine, just get your stuff from your locker and let's go, okay?  Were going to have a long conversation about this at home, including what happened with your counselor today. Ill meet you at the subway station. I need to leave before anything else goes wrong." He started away down the hall.

“Are you mad at me?” Blaine called after him plaintively.  “What did I do wrong?”

Kurt stopped in the now empty hallway and looked back at Blaine, clutching his bookbag tightly and looking almost frightened.  His eyes were enormous, and swimming with tears.

“Are you going to break up with me?” he quavered. "I left session because she was asking too many questions... I thought I was doing the right thing for us..."

Kurt bit his lip, and returned to Blaine, ashamed.  “No.  Honey, you … you didn't do anything wrong.  It was my fault for not thinking everything through before coming to the prom.  It'll be okay … any other conferences I'll do by phone so this won't be an issue.  And soon we'll tell Rachel and then all this secrecy won't be necessary --and you can be honest with your counselor. You should be totally honest in therapy.  Okay, baby?”

He looked up and down the hallway and leaned in for a quick kiss on Blaine's cheek.  He reached up and brushed a tear that had escaped from the corner of Blaine's eye.  Blaine looked reassured, but as they left the building together, not holding hands, Kurt sighed. Lucky that the school year was nearly over and they could tell Rachel soon. This situation was getting entirely too complicated.

~ *~ *~  *~ * ~ * ~ * ~

Blaine stirred in his sleep.  His phone … his phone was buzzing … what time was it?   It was still dark in the apartment, and he had fallen asleep in the damp spot on the bed … with Kurt draped across his bare chest.  He grimaced; they had been too worn out to even clean up last night and they were both sticky and sweaty and frankly, a bit stinky.  Kurt's hair was standing every which way in that adorable manner it always did after sex, and Blaine snuggled his love close with one arm while absently grabbing the phone and looking at it.  Six a.m.  They'd had only three hours' sleep, but Kurt had an early class, so might as well get up.  The number was unfamiliar, but he flicked the phone to answer it, his voice scratchy and hoarse, his throat sore from crying out Kurt's name and taking Kurt's cock a few too many times last night.  He managed to croak, “Hello?”

“Hey Blainey-bear! It's me! Rachel!  Do you feel okay?  That sounds like strep throat.”

“Oh - - Rae,” he said, shoving Kurt's shoulder and rolling him over onto his belly.  Unfortunately, that exposed Kurt's back view which was one of his favorite views of Kurt, tied possibly with the front view, the side view, the upside down view …

“Rehearsals are going great.  I just called because I missed you.  Is Kurt looking out for you properly, or do I need to come home?”

“He's doing a great job,” Blaine said, looking fondly at Kurt, who had scrunched up in the bed, his backside now up in the air as he curled around his pillow.  “Don't worry about me at all.  I'm fine.”

“I know Kurt's got an early class.  Can you check to see if he's up?  I want to say hi.”

“Sure.”  He put down the phone against his chest and bellowed, “Hey! KURT! You up yet?” at a deafening volume, jerking Kurt awake with an adorable gasp as he sat up, bleary-eyed and confused, his mouth hanging open and his hair still sticking out sideways.

“He's coming,” Blaine said sunnily, tossing the phone to Kurt.  “Rachel.”

“Oh - oh,” Kurt said groggily.  “Hey Rachel.  How's rehearsal coming?”  He wiped his eyes and shoved Blaine away irritably when he tried to mouth at his neck.  Kurt gave one of his warning looks, but Blaine just inched closer, reaching a hand into Kurt's lap toward the morning erection that stood there temptingly.  Kurt slapped him away. His voice strained and hoarse, he rasped, "No, Rachel, I … I don't have strep throat like Blaine.  We're both okay.”  He paused, glaring at Blaine, who had given up trying to tease him and had jumped up naked as a jaybird from the bed, strolling happily to the linen shelf to grab a towel, pleasantly aware of Kurt's admiring eyes on him.  He gave Kurt a long, lingering look in return. Kurt turned bright red talking on the phone, and Blaine grinned, then skipped off to the bathroom.

He turned on the shower to get the hot water running, and leaned out of the door, giving Kurt a stage whisper, “C'mon - - hot water should be ready in a minute, get rid of her.”  More loudly, he shouted, “Talk to you later, Rae!  Miss you!” before returning to the bathroom to pee and then jump in the shower.  He was half lathered up when he heard the toilet flush again, and screamed shrilly at the frigid water showering down over him.  A sour but still adorable looking Kurt pulled the curtain away from the tiled wall.  

“Do not wake me up with a call from your sister again.  I need at least three cups of coffee to deal with her first thing in the morning.”

“S- s- s- sorry,” Blaine chattered, grateful when the water turned warmer slowly. Kurt shouldered  his way under the spray, his eyelids still at half-mast, ignoring him pointedly.

Standing on tiptoe to try to get some warm backsplash, Blaine hooked his chin over Kurts shoulder and wheedled, “Kurt, Im sorry for waking you up so rudely. I'll make you a nice breakfast before you go to make up for it.”

Kurt was looking more amenable already under the warm water.  He twisted to grab Blaine on his way out of the shower, pulling him into his arms under the spigot, letting the water cascade over them both, and rocking them side-to-side gently.  “No,” he murmured, yawning and still half-drowsy as he always was in the morning, his erection nudging against Blaine's hip.  “Make it up to me in here,” he demanded, before his damp lips took Blaine's in a soggy, sweet kiss.

July 2015

The next month during Rachel's out-of-town run was a lovers' paradise for Kurt and Blaine.  It wasn't just that the barriers had been swept away so they could, and did, take every opportunity to love each other in every sense of the word.  It was that with Rachel safely out of town, they could relax and just be them, together. Blaine got a job as a singing waiter at the Starlight  Diner a few blocks from Kurts office, and they met every day for lunch and dinner before traveling home, tired but happy, on the late train to Brooklyn. Kurt hadn't known it was possible to be as happy as they were in that honeymoon-like time.

But amid his new happiness, Kurt worried about how they would keep Rachel in the dark once she moved back in.  Yes, he and Blaine had done it before, when they had first started dating.  But it was different now that theyd gotten used to this level of freedom. He had no idea how to go backwards and pretend they were just friends again.  Blaine was unpredictable at best and it would be a big strain hiding his own feelings. He adored the silly, affectionate, fun-loving, romantic young man Blaine had become beyond all reason or ability to hide it.  As a result, there were so many people who already knew or suspected … Sebastian, most of Blaine's NYADA Prep friends, Adam, and Elliott.  Recently Santana and Brittany had spotted them out together and blabbed the secret to Mercedes, Sam, and Artie.  There was only so long this could remain an open secret from everybody except the one person who mattered most.

Blaine was the real deal for him, the love of his life, so there was no question of “if” but only when and how Rachel would be told.  She would return soon to New York for rehearsals for the Broadway run of her play, and after discussing the issue in depth, they had  finally agreed to wait until after opening night to tell her. Which meant, of course, lying and hiding until then, however little it suited their basically honest natures.

The day before  Rachel's scheduled return, Kurt and Blaine purged the apartment of any signs of their forbidden romance. In the morning, they brought their sheets and bedding to the laundromat and then remade the beds, as if Rachel might apply a blue light to them and discover their secret.  They went through their computers and iPhones, and transferred any pictures or messages that couldnt bear inspection, off their devices to an SD card. They gathered the SD card and the pressed flowers, love notes, and tokens of affection theyd amassed thus far into a locked box, to be brought to Kurts office for safekeeping.  They returned any articles of clothing or grooming that had migrated to the other's living space.  And they tried to practice keeping their hands to themselves for the whole day, to reacclimate themselves to it.

But it was a lost cause; the whole day of sexual tension, guilt, and sadness over the changes ahead made them testy and irritable, resulting in a nasty and extremely stupid argument over dinner.  Their very first real lovers quarrel since the smaller blowup over Elliott Gilbert months ago.

Which of course ended in remorseful tears, heartfelt apologies and frantic kisses, in sweeping the dishes off the kitchen table and onto the floor as they both continued to cry and apologize and kiss all at once.  Pulling open Blaine's belt and shoving his pants down past Blaine's hips, Kurt turned him and bent him over the table, snapping open his own button- fly jeans deftly with one hand.  There wasnt time to go to the bedroom, or even to fully undress, they were too needy and desperate. With a shaking hand, he carefully readied Blaine, with one of the  spare packets of lube that still seemed to populate all of his cardigan pockets.

Before very long, Blaine was hanging onto the edge of the table, writhing and begging. So Kurt sank into the tight heat with a relieved whimper and arched his back, eyes falling shut briefly at the perfect fit that they always made.   

How could they go back to how it was before?  How could they stop?  

Blaine was wriggling desperately in protest, urging him to move, and Kurt opened his eyes and stroked Blaines back reassuringly under his shirt, pushing it up to see.  He drew back and in again, and again, watching himself sliding in and out slowly at first and then faster and faster while Blaine clenched around him tightly.

Right now, they wouldnt stop, not yet, they didn't have to.  Not yet, thank god;  they had tonight.  Kurt braced his feet and held on to Blaines hips, pulling him back and forth in time with his own.

They had never gone this fast or rough before, but Blaine was rocking back and forth in a state of raw pleasure, begging for more and harder and faster. Kurt leaned over, letting go of Blaines waist a moment and threading his fingers through Blaines.  He ran his lips over the perfect little shell of Blaine's ear, whispering loving, reassuring words and promises, making sure he was okay. “Im okay - dont stop - I wanna feel it tomorrow,” Blaine babbled, "the day after, please Kurt, please!"  Kurt groaned and gave him what they both wanted.  

They were lost to each other, both their moans turning louder and more reckless. Kurt paid no mind to the vibrating phone in his cardigan pocket or the ringing one in Blaine's pants near his ankles a minute later.  All he could hear was Blaine's voice crying his name, all he could see was Blaine's round, bare bottom as he moved his hips against it, sliding into him over and over, through Blaine's release, and then his own a second later, his vision growing blurry with the force of it.

When Kurt regained his senses, Blaine gasped in shock and scrambled out from under him… and Kurt looked up to see Rachel, home a day early and standing in the doorway, her eyes full of hurt and rage.

~ * ~

“Get out!”  Rachel screamed, angrier than Kurt had ever seen her.  “Get out of my apartment.  Get out of my life. And get out of my brother's life!”  Her eyes were flowing with furious tears.

“Don't say that, Rachel,” Blaine begged, as he hastened to finish re-fastening his belt buckle.  “Please don't stop being friends just because I'm in love with Kurt.  This shouldn't change anything between you - -”

"I don't blame you for this, Blaine.  It's not your fault.  Kurt is the adult and he should have known better.  Now he has to leave.”

“Im not a child! The age of consent is seventeen! Im legal!"

“Barely! Was this the first time?” Rachel asked, her eyes still fixed on Kurt.

“No .. but … “

“You were having a relationship before I left town?  While Blaine was still sixteen?”

“Yes, but we didn't make love until I turned seventeen.  Kurt insisted on that, Rae--"

Kurt couldn't contain his genuine tears of shame and regret. "I never wanted you to find out this way.  I didn't want to lie to you.  I love Blaine so much, and we haven't done anything we shouldn't.  We waited until he was old enough.  I swear.”  He moved toward Rachel but she backed away, repulsed.

“So ...let me understand this,” Rachel said, her eyes narrowed and her voice cutting.  “Blaine was a sixteen year old kid who lost his parents.  He only had me to look out for him, and I trusted you living here alone with him --  I left you in charge of him.  My best friend," she choked out, her face twisting.  "And you lied to me.”  She shook her head, her fists curled at her sides. “And now I'm supposed to believe you didn't have sex before his birthday? As if that makes this okay? All I know is this isnt healthy or right and I want it stopped!"

“You can't stop us,” Blaine cut in.  “We love each other.  We're meant to be together.  I'll run away if you make Kurt leave--"

“Blaine, no,” Kurt choked out.  “No. I can't let that happen."  Kurt knew what he had to do.  God, it hurt, but he had to. He hurried to his room with Blaine trailing close behind.

Kurt grabbed a bag, throwing things into it blindly. "I cant come between you two.  Rachel's your guardian. Your family. Ill go."

“You're my soulmate,” Blaine cried, clutching at Kurt's hands, trying to stop him.  “That's more important than family, than friends, than anything!”

Rachel appeared at the entrance to Kurts room. “Ill go to the police if I have to. I dont believe this was innocent while you were underage.  Well see if the cops do," she threatened. “If they don't, that means youll have to register as a sex offender. Try getting a job with that on your record.”

Blaine turned around and stared at Rachel in horror.  “You wouldn't - - -”

Rachel hesitated. “I dont want to,” she said, her voice shaking.  “But I would to protect you, Blaine.  Kurt took advantage of a position of authority and trust.  It doesnt matter that you wanted it. Kurt, are you leaving or ... am I calling the police?”

Not looking at Blaine's pleading eyes, Kurt answered, “I'm leaving.  I'll go stay at Mercedes' for now.”  He spotted the box of things he'd locked up earlier in the day, and put it in the bag to take with him, all he would have left of the love of his life, at least for now.

Kurt dared to rest his hand on Blaine's cheek, despite Rachel's outraged eyes on him.  “I have to go, honey.  You heard your sister.  I can't break up a family.  And … maybe Rachel's right,” he finished miserably.  “Maybe I should have resisted temptation. You're so vulnerable … you were like my baby brother …”

Blaine raked his hands through his own hair, his eyes bulging in disbelief first at Rachel and now at Kurt. “That's crazy!  What we have isn't wrong.  Rachel's bluffing, she wouldn't call the police, and if she did, I'd just tell them the truth - - that we didn't do anything illegal.   Kurt, please! I can't lose you- -”

Rachel picked up her cellphone.

Blaine fell for what Kurt believed was a calculated bluff on Rachels part, and grabbed the phone out of her hand.  “No!  Don't call the police! Don't get Kurt in trouble!   I'll … I'll do whatever you tell me to,” Blaine whispered, miserable and defeated.

Kurt was defeated too. He knew Rachel wouldnt really carry out her threat, but the disappointment and condemnation in her eyes devastated him as much as any guilty verdict from a jury ever could.

“Goodbye, Blaine.”  Kurt went to the door, looking back a final time.  “I love you.”

~ * ~

Blaine rang the doorbell at Mercedes' brownstone apartment, and raised his eyebrows when Sam, in just his boxers, opened it.  The sounds of MarioKart were deafening in the room behind him.  “Hey, dude,” Sam greeted.  “C'mon in.”

“Why are you in your underwear?” Blaine asked, not sure if he really wanted to know.

“We're playing strip MarioKart.”  

“Ah,” Blaine remarked, noting that Artie, Brittany and Santana were in various stages of undress in the living room, MarioKart controllers in their hands and a tray of jello shots on the table.  He waved.  And I'm supposedly the immature kid in the group, he couldn't help but think.  Unbelievable.  “I'm here to see Kurt, actually.  I haven't been able to reach him by phone or online.  I'm getting scared.”

Brittany looked blankly up at him, while Sam and Artie avoided his gaze.  “Uh … don't know, Blaine,” Sam said, turning red as he always did on the rare occasions when he told less than the one hundred percent truth.  "He moved out and didnt leave a forwarding address."  Artie shrugged,  “Sorry, yo.”

Santana looked pityingly at him.  “We're sorry we can't tell you more, shortcake.”

“You all expect me to believe that you don't know where he is?”  Blaine looked around at all of them, pleading with his eyes. “I won't bother him or pester him if he doesn't … doesn't love me anymore. I just want to see that for myself, and if it's true then I deserve a chance to say goodbye, to tell him …” he broke off, covering his eyes with his hand. “I want to see him one last time and tell him he made me the happiest man in the world for a while … and thank him for what we had - - I - -   Please, guys - I need to see him - -”

Suddenly Mercedes was standing in the doorway of the living room, her beautiful eyes full of sympathy.  “C'mon sweetheart.  Into the kitchen away from these fools in their underwear,” she said disdainfully.  “And I know y'all aren't doing jello shots or sitting bare-bottomed on my furniture, if you know what's good for you!” she bellowed, startling Blaine and sending the group scrambling to clean up the littered tiny cups.

Blaine followed Mercedes into the kitchen, where she sat him down at the table.  “You want  anything to drink?  I have lemonade in here, or - -”

“I just want Kurt to see me,” Blaine said.  “I deserve that.  He can't just - abandon me, Mercedes. I need him.  And it's … it's unbearable at home.  Rachel won't give me a moment's peace.  The only way I got to come here was to pretend I got sick at work and sneak over.  She took away my phone and my computer.  She's treating me like a baby, and making Kurt leave was the worst of it.  I hate her!” he exclaimed through his tears.

“You done?” Mercedes asked, pouring two lemonades and setting one down in front of him.  “Drink that and calm down a minute.  It's good, I made it from scratch.”

Blaine picked up the glass and guzzled it down obediently.  Setting down the glass and wiping his mouth, he begged,  “Mercedes, please.  Please just tell me where he is and - - and I won't tell Rachel I found out from you.  I swear.”

“It's not about me worrying they'll be mad at me, sweetheart.  I can't go against what your sister wants.  What Kurt wants.  And that's for you to spend some time apart, munchkin.  Try to be patient.  If it's meant to be, it'll be, when the time's right.”

He closed his eyes.

"Does he know he's breaking my heart?”

Mercedes smiled sadly.  “He knows.  If it helps you to know, his heart is broken too.”

"No." Blaine got up to leave. “It doesn't help.”

~ * ~

August 2015

It was early Sunday morning in Manhattan, and Kurt was wandering the empty city streets in the cooling rain.  He hadn't slept at all last night, longing for Blaine's arms around him despite the blistering heat.  The rain smelled clean and the pouring drops washed away the traces of his tears.  

He'd cried so many tears for Blaine, and for himself. Tears of loss, of shame, of self-doubt and guilt. Was Rachel right? Did he take advantage of Blaine's youth and vulnerability? Blaine seemed, if anything, more mature than the average seventeen-year-old.  He had suffered so much and had come through it still able to give and feel so much love and joy, and he always had seemed strong and emotionally healthy.  But who was Kurt to determine that?  What if Blaine's past made him more vulnerable, not less?   Should he have kept fighting what they felt for each other and not given in to it? Rachel had planted thoughts in his mind that grew and tormented him.

Regardless of whether hed hurt Blaine by loving him, his abandonment certainly was hurting Blaine now. But what choice did he have?  Rachel was Blaine's legal guardian, and had laid down the law. He couldn't go behind her back again; he couldn't encourage Blaine to openly defy her without destroying her relationship with Blaine.  He needed to back away no matter how it hurt.

Plodding sadly up the stairs to his walk-up, he shivered in his soaked clothes that stuck  to his skin.  The rain had felt so cleansing and pure, but now he just felt chilled and dirty.

Opening the door to his floor, he stopped, confused.  There were two police officers knocking on his apartment door. He approached, confused, his keys in his hands.

“Are - - are you looking for me?”

One if the officers turned to him. "Kurt Hummel?"

“Yes, I'm  - - - what's this about?  Oh my God - was there an accident?  Is someone hurt?”

“No, sir, but we'd appreciate it if we could go into your apartment and take a look around.  I'm Officer Johnson and this is my partner, Officer Fisher."

Kurt pushed his wet hair out of his eyes.  “I don't understand.  What do you want in my apartment?”

“Is there a reason you'd rather we didn't come in, sir?” Officer Fisher asked.   She was a few years younger than her partner, with soft red hair frizzling around her face.  “Most people don't have a problem with it.”

Kurt looked from one officer to another, then hesitantly nodded.  “Okay, you can come in if you want to, but I'm going to need to know what this is about pretty soon.”

He unlocked the door.  Officer Fisher went to the bathroom and opened the door, going inside.  Kurt heard the shower curtain being pulled back.  Officer Johnson opened the door to the only closet in the space.  

Officer Fisher came out of the bathroom.  “Nothing suspicious in there, Rita,” she remarked.  She flicked open the bedside table and glanced into the wastebasket. “Doesn't look like this guy has gotten any lately, or plans to anytime soon, if you know what I mean.”

Something occurred to Kurt, with a growing sense of dread.  Rachel might have made good on her threat to call the police and have him investigated for statutory rape.  Kurt seethed at the thought. Rachel should have known that he was innocent of that, at least. Hed never really believed she would report him for a crime he hadnt committed. Hatred flared up in his heart against her for the first time.

“You can't go through my things without a warrant, can you?” he demanded.

Officer Johnson smiled a sparkling, beautiful smile with a hint of malice in it, reminding him briefly of Santana Lopez. “You want a warrant, Mr. Hummel?”  She crossed the room in a sudden, catlike movement, her hand going into her jacket, and Kurt backed up against the counter, startled.  Reaching him, she slapped a warrant into his chest.  “There's your warrant, sir,” she said contemptuously.  She went back to the closet and started rifling through the clothes on the hangers, looking at the labels.  His hands shaking, Kurt opened the piece of paper and scanned it.

His heart sank.  They were here looking for Blaine. Who was listed as a missing person on the warrant.

But Blaine wasn't here … oh God.  No.  Blaine.  He dropped the warrant and buried his face in his hands, willing back the tears.  “How long has he been missing?” he cried out, hoarsely.  “Please.”

“These aren't the subject's clothes,” Officer Johnson said, sighing.  “Description is a little guy, five eight, 140 pounds.  He'd be swimming in anything in here.”  She turned to Kurt, who was trembling with fear over Blaine.  

“Before I answer your question, Mr. Hummel, I'd like an answer to a question or two.  Does that seem fair?”

“Please - -”

“Does.  That. Seem. Fair.”

“Yes, ma'am,” Kurt breathed out, trying to steady himself by gripping the counter behind him.  

“When is the last time you heard from, saw or communicated with Blaine Anderson-Berry?”

“July 21.”

Officer Johnson raised her eyebrows.  “That was pretty fast, and pretty specific, sir.”

“It was a week after I moved out of the apartment.  He called me and … asked me to come get him and … and to live with me.  I told him no, his sister didn't approve of us, and not to call again unless she said it was okay.”

“Did you say anything else?  Did he?”

He couldnt see through his tears.  “We said we loved each other. But I said it was over, it … it had to be, with his sister so upset about us."

“No contact since then?”

“I changed my cellphone number.  I moved here.  He doesn't have any way to contact me,” Kurt said, dully.  “And I haven't tried to call him.  Now, please … can you tell me anything at all?  How long has he been gone?  Did he and his sister have an argument -  or -”

Officer Johnson studied Kurt a moment, and her face softened a bit.  “He left for work at the Starlight Diner yesterday morning, but never arrived.  Ms. Berry reported him missing when he didn't come home last night.”

Kurt turned his back on the officers to hide his face.  Officer Johnson added, “Hes made a large cash withdrawal from his personal trust account, the largest he's allowed to make without his trustees signature, every day for the last week, and he took some clothes and personal effects with him, but very few.  He's made no withdrawals or purchases with the card associated with that account since yesterday.  Ms. Berry contacted all his other friends and none of them admitted to knowing where he is.”

Officer Johnson slid her card in front of Kurt.  “Sir, I understand that you care about this boy.  Maybe you know where he is, and this is just a romantic escapade in your mind.  But his sister is beside herself with worry. If you have any information about his whereabouts - -”

“I don't,” Kurt choked.  He didn't know where Blaine was, what he was planning, why on earth he would do something like this.  God, Blaine, why …

“Okay.  If you hear from or about him, please contact this number.  This family may need help, but his sister is frantic.  Will you do that, sir?”

Kurt picked up the card and nodded, but he knew he wouldn't hear from him.  He'd broken Blaine's heart, ruined his family, and he would never see him again.  And he would live with the pain of it the rest of his life.