Kurt was a nervous wreck all the way to the airport and throughout the entire flight to Chicago. He couldn't stop turning Santana's words over and over again in his mind. .

"You need to go to him."

"He's so skinny."

"He needs you."

"He still loves you."

"If you wait, it might be too late."

What did she mean, Kurt wondered, terrified to know the answer to that question, and yet knowing that he had no choice but to find out. Santana had sounded so worried and concerned, and to say that this scared the shit out of Kurt would be a massive understatement. It wasn't like Santana to seriously show concern without attaching some kind of snark to it, so to hear her talk that way, without a trace of sarcasm in her voice at all, when she had just seen Carson... Kurt didn't even want to think about what that meant.

And Blaine... Kurt didn't want to think about him, either, because the very memory of their last conversation filled him with so much rage, and he didn't know what to do with it. Blaine had seen Carson get hit with the lightning bolt that night. He'd seen it, and yet he wasn't anywhere to be found when Kurt ran outside. Kurt would have remembered seeing him if he'd been there, he was quite sure of that. Kurt hadn't yet let himself really absorb what that meant, but it was slowly sinking in with sickening clarity.

Blaine had seen what happened to Carson, and he'd chosen to do nothing. He hadn't checked on him, or at the very least called for help. Apparently, he'd chosen to walk away, leaving Carson alone and, for all Blaine knew, leaving him to die. Kurt had spent the better part of the last two years living with someone who had been willing to, even indirectly, murder his brother, and he felt sick to his stomach when he thought about it. He wasn't sure he'd ever felt anger like what he was currently feeling. He didn't know that it was possible to hate someone as much as he hated Blaine Anderson right now, and the only thing keeping him even appearing calm for the rest of his flight was the thought of seeing Carson's face again. No matter how disappointed the face in question might look to see him.

I'm coming, Carsey. I don't know what's going on, but we're going to talk whether you like it or not, honey. I was an idiot to let it go on this long. It's time.

It felt like forever before his plane finally landed, and he wasted no time collecting his luggage and hurrying out into the city streets, hailing the first cab he could manage to get to stop for him. He'd check into a hotel first, he decided. Just to drop off his things and collect his thoughts a little before he dropped in on Carson. Truthfully, he was a little scared at what his twin's reaction would be when Kurt showed up unexpectedly at his door. Would he be happy to see him? Angry? Would he even be home? He pressed his face against the window as the cab drove him to a hotel, gazing out onto the busy streets and searching every passing stranger's face to see if it was Carson.

He could be anywhere, Kurt thought, his stomach twisting into a knot. He could be walking down one of these streets right now. I could see him at any second.

He didn't see him, though, and he felt a little disappointed as he exited the cab before the disappointment turned into relief. He didn't know what he would have done even if he had seen Carson on the street. It was better this way, for sure.

He checked into his hotel, dragging his suitcase into his room and settling it against the wall without bothering to unpack it. He crossed to the large mirror in the center of the wall and took a good look at himself. His clothes were a little wrinkled from the flight, and his hair was slightly mussed, but other than those things and a seemingly permanent expression of worry plastered on his face, no matter how much he tried to relax, he thought he looked relatively ok.

Alright, he thought as he re-styled his hair with his fingers. I'm going to knock on Carson's door, and I'm going to very calmly and rationally tell him that we need to talk. He'll probably not want to see me, but... god, I don't know what I'll do if he yells at me to go away, but... Ok, Kurt, don't think about that. That's the worst case scenario and... it probably won't happen, so... just calm down. You'll talk to Carson. If nothing else, you'll finally have the answer to all the questions you've been asking yourself all this time. It won't be much, but it will be a start.

Who knows? Maybe someday you can even be brothers again.

He gamely repeated this speech silently to himself as he exited his room and hailed another cab, giving the driver the address of Carson's building and wringing his hands nervously as he was driven closer and closer to the person he still loved more than life itself. He almost didn't even notice when the cab stopped in front of a dingy looking brick building.

"We're here," the cab driver announced.

So we are, Kurt thought with a gulp as he paid the driver and stepped out, looking up at the building warily. This is it. Oh god, this is it. Carson is in there. He's in there, and I'm going to be seeing him in about two minutes, and oh god my stomach hurts.

He pulled open the door of the building, noting that it didn't seem to have any security features whatsoever to keep non-residents out, and feeling appalled that his precious twin had lived there for so long with nothing preventing a murderer from coming in and doing what they wanted. He quickly forgot about this, though, as he stepped into the elevator and pushed the button that would take him to Carson's floor.

It'll be fine, he reassured himself as the elevator transported him. The worst that will happen is that he'll tell you to get lost. At the very least you'll see his face. That's something.

The elevator dinged and the doors opened. Kurt stepped out, looking around briefly to determine which direction Carson's apartment was in before heading down the correct hallway. His breath caught in his throat as he approached his brother's door, and he stood outside of it for a good ten minutes, trying to get himself to breathe normally and work up the courage to knock.

Breathe, Kurt. Just breathe.

Before he could lose his nerve, he lifted his hand and rapped on the door. Oh god, I've done it, he thought, his stomach so twisted by now that it might as well have been a pretzel. Any second now, he's going to...

He heard the sound of a chain lock being moved, and then the door flew open, revealing Carson's face to Kurt for the first time in almost two years. Kurt forgot all about breathing as he gasped a little, his eyes roaming over his twin as he took in his appearance. Carson looked very tired. There were unmistakable dark circles under his eyes. He had at least a few days worth of scruff on his face, and he definitely looked like he'd lost weight, Kurt thought as he noted how loosely his brother's hoodie and pajama pants hung on him. And yet, despite this, he was Carson. He was real and he was there, and he was close enough to touch if Kurt wanted.

The emotions inside of Kurt swirled into a veritable tornado of feelings as he stood there staring at Carson, who stared back at him, looking absolutely stricken. He didn't know what to feel, because he was feeling so many things at once that it was difficult to focus on one thing. He was so happy that he wanted to cry. He was also sad and angry and nervous and a host of other emotions that he didn't know how to deal with, and he wanted to speak, to say anything at all, but he couldn't. Nothing came out when he opened his mouth. He just stood there, staring at his twin and having absolutely no idea what to do with himself.

"Kurtsie," Carson whispered, as though he couldn't quite believe what he was seeing, and that single word, the word Kurt had missed hearing for so long, finally snapped him into action. He still couldn't speak. He wasn't sure he even knew how to anymore. So he did the only thing he could think of to do.

He surged forward and connected his lips with Carson's, catching them in a rough, desperate kiss.

He'd been sure that it was Santana on the other side of the door. He'd hoped it was her, actually, because ever since the previous day when she'd dropped in on him and basically shattered the guard he'd so carefully constructed around his life over the past two years, he hadn't known what to do with himself. He'd been reduced to a panicked mess from the second she had left his apartment without promising not to tell Kurt everything she'd seen.

"She's going to tell," he'd muttered to himself quietly as he slumped to the floor, leaning up against the wall and taking in gasping breaths not unlike the ones he experienced when he was deep in the throes of a full blown panic attack. He hugged his knees to his chest and rocked against the wall, hitting his head against it with every rock back.

"She's going to tell... Kurt will know... oh god, everything will be ruined... she's going to ruin everything," he whimpered to himself as Kurtsie Kitty looked at him curiously and then curled up in his lap. "I worked so hard to keep it from him and she's going to... she can't... she has no right... FUUUUUCK," he'd shouted into the empty apartment, his own voice echoing off the walls back to him and sending the cat scurrying for a hiding place.

He'd spent hours there on the floor, rocking and hugging his knees, desperately wishing to just be erased from existence entirely. Anything was better than living with such panic and despair. He thought about the bottle of anti-depressants that now resided in his bathroom cabinet alongside the anti-anxiety medicine. He'd finally agreed to be put on them not even a week prior, but little did Dr. McNeil know that he hadn't even cracked open the bottle yet. He felt like doing so would be admitting defeat to himself, so he hadn't done it.

Maybe I should have, he thought miserably as night fell and the apartment grew dark, and still he stayed against the wall. Maybe then this wouldn't be killing me as much as it is.

Maybe.

Eventually he had gotten up and tried to coax Kurtsie Kitty out from where he was hiding under the couch.

"Come on, little guy. Come on out. I'm sorry I scared you, sweetie," he said gently, offering his hand for Kurtsie Kitty to inspect. The cat had licked his finger, but had refused to move. Carson didn't really blame him. He wouldn't want to hang out with himself, either.

Oh well, he thought as he left some food in Kurtsie Kitty's dish and then headed to bed. I should just get used to everyone knowing I'm a useless freak. It's the truth, after all.

He hadn't slept at all that night. He'd tossed and turned for hours, staying in bed long after the sun had come up and morning had turned to noon. He'd only gotten out of bed and into the shower for something to break the monotony. And then, just as he had finished getting dressed, there was a knock on the door.

It's Santana, he thought as he trudged through the apartment to answer the knock. Please, it has to be Santana. She's going to tell me that she'll keep her mouth shut. I'll beg if I have to. I will. God, I'll do anything, but she CAN'T tell Kurt, she just...

He swung the door open, ready to plead his case with Santana, but it wasn't her standing there on the other side. It was Kurt. Kurt was standing there, and Carson was struck speechless. All the air seemed to have been sucked out of the room. He couldn't even form any sort of coherent thought as he stood there and stared into the familiar blue eyes he knew and loved so well.

Oh god, is it really him? Kurt... oh god, it's Kurt. He's here. He's really here and he looks so handsome, and baby I love you so much, I always did. I never wanted to be apart from you or put you through so much, and I bet you really fucking hate me right now, and I don't blame you. I hate me, too... if I just reached out a little, I could touch you if I wanted, oh god...

"Kurtsie," he whispered, not really daring to believe that his twin really was standing there in front of him. Kurt just stood there staring at him, opening his mouth as if to speak and then closing it again. Maybe he's trying to think of the right words to tell me how pissed he is at me...

That was Carson's last semi-coherent thought before he suddenly found himself being ambushed by a pair of pillowy soft lips, coated in the strawberry lip balm that he remembered so vividly. Snippets of thoughts raced through his brain (What is he doing here?... he's kissing me... oh GOD, he's kissing me... why isn't he yelling at me?... ), and he wanted to ask Kurt those questions. He really did, but he seemed to have forgotten how. Instinct took over, and he deepened the kiss automatically, gasping into Kurt's mouth when he felt his twin's hands grip him firmly around the waist.

Make me yours was all he could think as Kurt pushed him back into the apartment and slammed the door shut with his foot, their lips not parting for a second.

Kurt had absolutely no idea what had come over him. He really didn't. One minute he had been ready to at least try to have a rational conversation with Carson, and the next he was pushing his twin inside the apartment, quickly shutting the door behind them before backing Carson up against the nearest wall. He pinned him there, his hands firm around Carson's waist as he continued kissing him desperately. It was messy and sloppy, and there was definitely more teeth involved than lips at first. Kurt caught Carson's bottom lip between his teeth and Carson let out a strangled moan, his arms flying up to wrap around Kurt's neck as Kurt pressed their bodies as close together as they could possibly get.

Oh god, I've missed this so much, he thought as he worked his lips down Carson's jawline, nipping at the skin in between kisses as Carson threw his head back to give Kurt better access. He wasn't even consciously thinking much about what was happening. Everything was happening on autopilot. It was as if every moment of sadness he'd felt all this time... all the despair and the anger and missing Carson so much he could die... all of those emotions were manifesting in this. In the way he was kissing his way down Carson's neck, stopping to suck a mark into the sensitive skin where his twin's neck met his shoulder. In the way Carson held onto Kurt's neck for dear life, crying out at the contact of Kurt's lips on his skin. In the way Kurt grabbed Carson's legs, hoisting them up so that they were wrapped around his waist as they desperately pawed at each other. They both panted for breath as Kurt clung to Carson and pressed himself closer, moaning as he felt his twin hardening against him, even through all the layers of clothes.

"Carson, I..." he gasped out between kisses, not quite knowing how he was planning to finish that sentence, because there were just so many things to say, and how would he even know where to begin? Not that it mattered, because he was cut off anyway by Carson's lips pressing insistently against his own, and then his twin was staring intently at him, meeting him eye to matching eye. He didn't say anything, but Kurt could see the pleading in his eyes. The look that said Please. Don't let go.

"Bedroom?" Kurt said at last, grinding his hips down into Carson as he caught his lips in another rough kiss.

"Mmmph... there," Carson mumbled against Kurt's lips, pointing in the right direction, and Kurt began swiftly walking that way, holding Carson up and kissing him the whole time as Carson clung to him desperately, his arms and legs wrapped tightly around him and both of them growing harder by the second. He was pretty sure he knocked down several things while blindly searching for the bedroom, and when at last he found it he laid Carson down quickly on top of the messy, unmade bed, draping himself on top of him and pressing close. So close that he could feel Carson's heart beating. Alive. Here. In the same room. This is really real.

There were no words exchanged beyond that point. The room was only filled with the sound of heavy breathing and moaning as lips and teeth nipped at skin and their hands clumsily fumbled with each other's clothes. Kurt hooked his fingers under the hem of Carson's hoodie, pulling it up and over his twin's head and tossing it aside without bothering to unzip it first. He only had the briefest of seconds to take in how skinny his twin had gotten before shaking hands were quickly but carefully removing his jacket and unbuttoning his shirt.

Right. We're doing this, Kurt thought as he took over the unbuttoning and removed his own shirt and undershirt before working on his pants. For the first time in his life, he threw his clothes aside, not even caring where they went as he pressed himself back down on to Carson. He attacked his twin's neck with his lips, kissing and sucking at the skin while one hand toyed with his nipple and the other shoved its way roughly down Carson's pants, palming his erection over the fabric of his underwear. Carson cried out and arched into the touch, his nails scratching desperately at Kurt's back.

"Kurt," he gasped out, thrusting up against the pressure of Kurt's hand. "Kurtsie..."

That name again. Kurt couldn't describe exactly what came over him when he heard Carson utter it. All he knew was that he suddenly felt even more possessive and like he just had to have Carson right then and there, as soon as humanly possible.

"We need... mmph... we need something for lube," he gasped against Carson's skin, and Carson wiggled free from Kurt's grasp enough to turn over on his stomach and reach into the drawer of his bedside table. He rooted around in it for a minute before producing a half empty bottle of lube, shoving it into Kurt's hand. Kurt briefly wondered, with a strange feeling of curiosity and jealousy, why his twin had lube, but he forgot all about it as he watched Carson, still on his stomach, swiftly removing his own pants and underwear and throwing them off the bed.

"Please," he whined, his voice muffled by a pillow. "Kurtsie, please."

Everything civilized in Kurt snapped then, utterly broken. He had no concept of rational thought anymore. Primal instinct had taken over, and he pressed a hand into the small of Carson's back to keep him where he was.

"Stay there," he commanded, surprised by the forcefulness of his own voice. "Stay on your stomach." Carson obeyed, not moving except to elevate his ass, offering himself to Kurt with a moan that went straight to Kurt's already rock hard dick, which was still trapped tightly in his underwear. He uncapped the lube bottle and poured a generous amount over his fingers, using his index finger to briefly circle Carson's entrance before pushing in past the tight ring of muscle.

"Uuungh, oh god," Carson moaned, his face still buried in pillows as his muscles contracted deliciously around Kurt's finger. Kurt bit his lip, watching as his finger disappeared in and out of Carson and desperate for the moment when it would be him. He kept going until he met no resistance, and then he added a second finger, crooking both fingers up until he'd found the spot he knew would make Carson fall apart.

"Uuuuh," Carson screamed into the pillow, pushing back against Kurt's fingers wantonly. "Uh... uh... fuck..."

Kurt kept going, working his way up to a third finger until he felt like Carson was prepared enough. He couldn't wait any longer. It wasn't just that he was achingly horny now, although he was, because Carson laid out like this, waiting for him, was doing things to him that he couldn't ever remember feeling in his entire life. It wasn't just that. It was the fact that this was real, and Carson was here and waiting for him... clearly wanted him to take him... after so long apart... he didn't even know what was happening anymore. He just let it happen.

He removed his fingers from Carson, uncapping the lube bottle again and swiftly removing his underwear. His achingly hard dick sprung free, where it hit his stomach with a dab of leaking pre-come. Clearly, this wasn't going to last long. He slicked himself up and dabbed more lube around Carson's hole before lining himself up.

"I love you," he whispered as he pushed his way inside, slowly but forcefully. Carson gasped, his hands flying out in front of him to grip at the headboard as Kurt draped himself over him. He planted a small, gentle kiss between Carson's shoulder blades and then started thrusting, all semblance of gentleness gone and forgotten. He fucked him with wild abandon, his hands slipping underneath Carson to clutch at his chest as his hips worked relentlessly. He didn't even feel like himself anymore. He felt like some kind of animal as he continued thrusting wildly into Carson, who was laying there submissively taking it, his gasps and moans of pleasure muffled as he kept his head firmly buried in the pillows. Kurt felt him shifting rhythmically beneath him and he realized that his twin was humping the sheets below them, probably desperate for friction and relief.

God, Carson, he thought as he shifted his hips and gave a hard thrust right where he knew it would hit Carson's sweet spot. He was right. Carson's shoulders tensed and he screamed as he shuddered beneath Kurt for several seconds before relaxing, sinking loose and pliant into the mattress as Kurt continued fucking him. It didn't take very much longer for Kurt to follow him over the edge, and his hips stilled as he bit down into the flesh of Carson's shoulder and came, his dick pulsing and shooting his seed deep inside of his precious twin.

He didn't know what to do once the high of orgasm had come down. His brain came back online and he realized that he was draped naked on top of Carson, who was laying completely still underneath him, taking huge, heaving breaths.

Oh, shit, Kurt thought to himself, carefully pulling out of Carson and rolling off of him. This wasn't at all the way it was supposed to go. God, Kurt, can't you ever get anything right? You came here to TALK to him, not fuck him without even giving him the chance to say anything... and you were so ROUGH...

He propped himself up on his elbow and looked over at Carson, who hadn't moved since they'd finished. He was still on his stomach, his face buried in the pillows, although his breathing had slowed considerably. Kurt gingerly reached out a hand and placed it on his twin's shoulder, expecting Carson to recoil from the touch. Or maybe sit up and yell at him. He didn't do either of those things. If anything, he relaxed into the touch a little, and Kurt breathed a sigh of relief. Maybe... maybe he's not as pissed as he should be about what just happened? Oh god, please?

"Carsey?" he said in a voice barely above a whisper. "Carsey, I... um..."

Carson sucked in a breath, and Kurt wasn't sure, but it sounded as if he was trying to keep himself from crying. Oh god, what have I done? "Carsey, can we talk about..."

Carson lifted his head from the pillows and turned it to look at Kurt. Kurt took in the sight of his twin's face, the dark circles and hollowness in his cheeks making him feel even guiltier.

"No... I... not now... can we just..." Carson breathed out in a broken voice, closing his eyes and shaking his head. "I don't want to talk right now. Can we just... can you just hold me?" That last part was whispered so low that Kurt could barely hear it.

"Don't you want to clean up first?" he asked.

"No," Carson said, shaking his head insistently. "No, please... please just hold me."

Kurt bit his lip, looking into Carson's eyes. They looked so sad, but also slightly hopeful, as though he was scared of what Kurt's reply would be. Please stay with me, he seemed to be saying with his eyes. Stay with me. Don't leave me.

Kurt swallowed and nodded, not bothering to hide the tears that were streaming down his own face.

"Yeah," he answered in a choked voice, reaching up a hand to stroke Carson's hair. "Yeah, ok." He settled down, cuddling the front of his body into Carson's back and curling up with his arms wrapped around his twin's chest and his head resting against his shoulder. He bit his lip to keep from sobbing out loud, because it had been far too long since he'd held this precious man in his arms, and he never wanted to let him go again.

"I love you," he whispered, softly kissing Carson's shoulder. There was no response from his twin, and Kurt realized, as he observed Carson's deep, heavy breathing, that he was fast asleep. Kurt cuddled closer, feeling an odd combination of happiness and melancholy as he closed his eyes and let himself follow Carson into slumber.

I love you so much, Carsey. I'm never letting you go again, he thought as he drifted off into a dreamless sleep.

When Carson opened his eyes hours later, blinking to get them adjusted to the early morning light peeking through his closed bedroom blinds, he thought for sure that he'd dreamed the whole thing. Surely Kurt hadn't knocked on his apartment door the previous afternoon. He hadn't been standing there looking like a beautiful dream. Hadn't kissed Carson with no warning. Hadn't shoved him roughly up against the wall, causing Carson to have trouble breathing or thinking as all the blood in his body immediately rushed south. Hadn't thrown Carson on his own bed and had his way with him.

No. None of that had happened. Kurt was still in New York living his wonderful life without Carson in it, and Carson was going to turn around any minute and realize that the warmth at his back was not Kurt. It was probably a blanket. Or Kurtsie Kitty. It wasn't Kurt. It couldn't be Kurt.

A small snuffle caught his attention, and he felt a pair of hands he hadn't even realized were touching him rub softly at his chest.

"Carsey?" a heartbreakingly familiar voice whispered into his ear, and Carson felt a wave of emotions flood him to the core. "Carsey, are you awake?"

He bit his lip, ordering himself to stop the flow of tears before they began. He couldn't quite find the strength to speak, so he nodded. He felt stiff and heavy, yet well rested, and he realized that this was the first time he'd slept through the entire night since he'd moved to Chicago. Kurt must have surely had something to do with that, he thought.

There was silence for a moment, and then he felt a pair of soft lips kiss him gently on the shoulder. "Carson, I think we should talk."

Talk. The very last thing Carson wanted to do. He wanted to just stay here in bed with Kurt forever, not talking. Not facing the reality of their situation. Not dredging up the past two years. Can't we just stay here and cuddle and pretend that nothing ever happened?

Well, no, he reasoned with himself. They couldn't really do that, and he was being a selfish prick for even wanting to. He sighed and slowly turned around to face Kurt, his breath taken away by the sight of those eyes. They were clouded over with worry and apprehension, and Carson didn't like seeing them like that.

"What are you doing here, Kurt?" he asked softly.

Kurt bit his lip and circled a finger gently around Carson's chest. "Santana called me yesterday morning. She said she'd been to see you and that she was worried, and I just... I had enough. I couldn't go another day without trying to see you. Whether or not you wanted to see me." He cast his eyes downward at that last sentence, and Carson felt a stab of pain in his stomach at how sad Kurt looked, especially knowing that he was the one responsible for making him look that way.

"Kurt, I... no. You're wrong, honey. I did want to see you. I've never not wanted to," he said. Kurt, please, whatever you do, please don't cry. I can't handle it when you cry. I never could.

"Then why?" Kurt asked sadly. "Why have you been ignoring me for so long? I don't understand what I did, and I just... why did you stop loving me?"

Carson just looked at him, feeling absolutely lower than shit. He didn't even know how to process what Kurt had just said, and he didn't want to. He knew that if he did, he would start screaming and tearing his hair out to punish himself. The despair and heartbreak would never end.

He didn't say anything for a minute. Just sighed and reached tentatively for Kurt's hand. "I never stopped loving you, Kurtsie," he said softly. "Never. I just... could we talk about this later? It's been... it's been such an overwhelming night, and I..."

Kurt looked at him carefully for a minute, as though considering his words. "Ok," he agreed finally. "I, um... how about we shower and get dressed again, hmm?"

Carson nodded. "Yeah. Yeah, ok. Why don't you shower first, ok? Bathroom is that way," he said, pointing Kurt in the right direction. "I just want to think for a few minutes."

Kurt nodded, hesitantly stroking Carson's cheek before softly kissing it, and Carson thought he would die just from the feel of it. "Ok," Kurt said quietly. "I'll be back in a few minutes." He slipped out of bed, and Carson felt his heart beating faster at the sight of his twin's naked body, now more toned and built than ever before. He'd definitely become even more perfect over the past two years, and Carson hadn't been sure that such a thing was even possible.

We had sex last night, he thought to himself as Kurt disappeared into the bathroom, unable to stop himself from smiling at the thought. That body was on top of me, and... oh GOD, he saw MY body too, didn't he? Oh fuck. No... NO... I'm all skinny and gross now, oh god, what did he THINK?

The ringing of a phone interrupted his thoughts and he recognized it as his text ringtone. Ugh, it's probably Santana and I have no fucking idea what to say to her. He located the ringing phone on the ground under the bed and slid the text open without checking it. He instantly wished he hadn't done that, because he realized, with sickening clarity, that he wasn't holding his own phone.

Kurt has the same ringtone as me, he thought numbly to himself as he read the text in front of him.

Kurt, come on. You never even answered me. We don't have to get married tomorrow or anything. Can you just come home so we can talk about this? -Blaine

He sat on the edge of the bed and read it over and over to himself, trying with all his strength to quell the sickening feeling deep in the pit of his stomach as he thought over what the text meant.

Come home... they live together... he lives in the apartment... THEY LIVE TOGETHER... get married... married... get married...

He didn't even notice Kurt step back into the room and begin to put on his clothes. He was too busy staring blindly at the stupid text. Staring at it until the words lost all meaning and blurred in front of his eyes. Or maybe those were the tears doing that. He couldn't be sure.

"Carson?" asked Kurt, his voice snapping Carson rudely back to earth. "Carson? Honey? Are you ok?"

Carson didn't say anything for a moment. He just held the phone out to Kurt and looked down at his feet as his twin took it. "We have the same text ringer. I thought it was mine," he mumbled at last. There was silence in the room, and Carson looked up to see Kurt staring, stricken, between him and the phone.

"Carson... honey, please, listen to me," he whispered in a choked up voice. "Please, listen, this isn't what it-"

Carson held up a hand to silence him, and Kurt faltered, looking at Carson with tears in his eyes. "Carson please..."

"No," Carson said, trying his best to stay calm. "No, I... no." His chest was beginning to tighten in an all too familiar fashion, and he realized with a sinking stomach that he was about to have a panic attack. The thought of it happening right now in front of Kurt only made the tightening worse, and he knew it was only a matter of time before he wouldn't be able to breathe. He couldn't let Kurt see that. He couldn't. He'd die first.

"Get out," he said, his hand brushing against his chest but not clutching it the way he really wanted. He had to get Kurt to leave. "Please. Get out."

"Carson, no," Kurt insisted. "No, you have to listen to me, this is..."

"Get out! GET OUT!" Carson exclaimed, his heartbeat beginning to quicken. God, please, he has to leave...

"Carson-"

"KURT, GET THE FUCK OUT!" he screamed, doubling over on the bed and feeling the familiar shortness of breath begin to sink in. "GO! GOOOOOO!"

"Carson! PLEASE," Kurt pleaded, tear streaming down his face. "PLEASE, you have to..."

Carson picked up a pillow in a panic and threw it with all his strength at Kurt. It hit his twin in the stomach and bounced back down to the ground limply. "GET THE HELL OUT!" he screamed hoarsely, his voice almost gone now. "GO! Go home to Blaine. GET OUT!"

Kurt's face as he heard his words almost killed Carson right then and there, and he didn't know what the hell he would do if Kurt didn't turn around right then and leave. Fortunately, he didn't have to worry about it. Kurt turned and ran out of the bedroom, his face red and streaked with tears, and Carson felt lower than he'd ever felt in his entire life. He heard the apartment door shut as Kurt left, and then he grabbed a pillow and screamed into it. Screamed until he had no more strength left in his body. He curled up in a tight ball and sobbed, his heart hammering against his chest as he took in short, shaky breaths.

This was a mistake... I shouldn't have let him in yesterday... I should have told him to go... he lives with Blaine... he's BEEN living with Blaine... for how long... and... goddammit, Santana, why the fuck would you do this to me? What did I ever do to you?

What did I ever do to deserve any of this?