Blaine remembered a time when he would wake up in the morning with the biggest smile on his face. He would fill his travel mug with coffee and drive to his book store to spend another day surrounded by the books he loved. He would greet every customer (there weren't many, really, he should've known he was in trouble) with a welcoming grin, and would assist them in any way he could. He would see Kurt's beautiful face every night, feel his ardent kisses, return his kiss with just as much passion, and then fall asleep in his arms, to look forward to doing it all over again the next day.

There was a time when his mother wasn't dying, right in front of him, when her strength didn't diminish with every passing day, when her smile and her eyes weren't tainted with any kind of pain.

There was a time when Blaine was happy, but that time was now gone.

*

To: khummel@vogue.com

From: blaine.anderson@gmail.com

Subject: RE: Skype.

Hi Kurt,

I'm sorry I couldn't reply to this earlier. Skyping with you sounds great, but I'm afraid I don't have a lot of spare time right now. Can I get a rain check? I'm sure you're just as busy as I am, if not more.

How are things going there? How's Rachel? Any new, crazy stories about her you can tell me?

Everything's great here. We had some rain today, so it was pretty quiet at the book store. I had time to finish the book I was reading.

Take care,

Blaine.

*

Kurt frowned. Once again, Blaine's email was vaguely disconcerting. It was so short, so impersonal, as if Blaine was trying to add to the distance between them. How much more distance could there be?

He re-read the email a few more times, until he knew it by heart, as if memorizing it would help him find an obscure meaning hidden behind the words, or a code, anything, to explain why Blaine was being this way.

He didn't find anything, except for the realization that he was losing him.

*

For a few weeks, Blaine refused to accept reality, and close the book store, desperate to believe it could still be saved. There was still hope. There should always be hope...

He made lists. He wrote down every single idea that might turn it around. Maybe he could organize special events: a popular author's book-signing, or puppets performing classic children books. There had to be something that could attract the attention of the people in this town. He would do whatever he had to do...

During the nights when he couldn't sleep (that was most of them, at this point), Blaine thought, brainstormed, hoped. He sat in his bed (it was so big and lonely without Kurt curled up next to him), and stared at the list of ideas, wondering if at least one of them could work.

He needed something to hold on to. He couldn't save his mother, and he couldn't be with Kurt, but he would try everything to save the only other thing that meant something to him, the only thing that still gave him purpose.

*

"I would just like to say that you're overreacting," Heather said from where she sat on the couch, three fluffy pillows around her to keep her comfortable and a soft blanket thrown over her legs. "I don't have a cold, Blaine. I don't need all of this."

"No, you have something much worse than a cold," he murmured, putting the tray he was carrying on the coffee table before passing his mother a bowl of pasta. "So stop complaining and eat."

Heather sighed and accepted her dinner gratefully. It had been a bad day, and she was tired. She could tease all she wanted, but at the end of the day, she was so grateful she could count on Blaine. "I'm eating, I'm eating," she replied, and took a morsel as if to prove a point. Then she mostly watched Blaine as he twirled and chased his pasta around, barely eating anything himself. She could see that he looked almost as tired as she did, with dark marks under his eyes. She hadn't seen a smile on his face in much too long now, his lips always turned down into a sad expression. "Is there something else wrong, darling?"

He immediately perked up, trying to look cheerful and carefree, but he couldn't fool her. "Nothing's wrong, Mom. Everything's fine."

"Of course it is," she said, disbelievingly. She scooted closer to him. "Come on, dear. Talk to me."

"Mom, there's nothing to talk about," he inserted a ravioli into his mouth and chewed industriously, trying to look busy.

"Is it Kurt?"

Blaine's breath hitched for a moment, like every time he heard his name. God, he missed him, and he needed him so badly. But he had refrained from telling him exactly what was going on in his life. He knew Kurt; he would get on a plane and come back to Lima to support him, aware of how much losing both his mother and his store hurt. And Blaine refused to be the reason Kurt returned to Lima. He couldn't bear to have Kurt return to the place he hated so much, even if it was just for a few days.

"It is, isn't it?" Heather insisted. Blaine realized she wasn't going to give up on this conversation.

He sighed and stopped pretending he was hungry at all. He pushed his bowl away and flopped back against the cushions. "It's not just Kurt. It's everything. I miss him like crazy, and I knew what it was going to be like, but it is still hard to deal with it, with not seeing him, not talking to him. He barely has time to email me every now and then, and even though he told me he didn't want to lose me, I feel like I've already lost him." He rubbed his tired eyes with the heel of his hand. "And then... I'm so worried about you, Mom."

"Oh, Blaine. You don't have to be. I'm fine..." she said softly.

And that obvious lie made Blaine explode. "You're not fine! You're dying! You're in pain most of the time and you think I don't notice! I keep thinking of ways to help you but there's nothing I can do and that's killing me! I've already lost Dad, and that was hard enough, but losing you is absolutely devastating!"

Heather covered her mouth with her hand to stifle a sob. "I'm so sorry I'm putting you through this..."

"No, Mom, no..." he kneeled next to her, grabbed her hand. "I don't... I don't blame you. You have nothing to apologize for. I just don't understand why bad things keep happening to us. To you. You're the kindest person I know, and I wish you didn't have to go through this."

"Better people go through worse every day," Heather said quietly. "We can't choose these things, Blaine, we can only make the best out of the lives we've got."

"How come you're so calm?" He asked, frowning, as a couple of tears slid down his cheeks.

"What's the point in getting upset? Do I really want to spend the time I have left being mad at something I can't change?" Heather wrapped her arm around his shoulder and pulled until Blaine put his head on his mother's lap. "I'd rather enjoy the beautiful things in life. Like my wonderful son."

"I'm not wonderful," Blaine scoffed. "I'm boring, and quiet, and most people don't understand me."

"I do, because I'm your mother and I love you," she replied firmly, running her fingers through his curls. "And I know for a fact that you're wonderful. The most wonderful boy I've ever met..."

"Mom..." he started to protest, but she silenced him instantly.

"You are, Blaine. And even when I'm not here to remind you, you'll still be wonderful," she leaned down to kiss his temple. "Don't be sad for the things you can't change, Blaine. There's still so much ahead of you to do. Maybe you and Kurt will find your way back to each other. Maybe you'll meet someone else who's going to turn your world upside down. And you have your book store, that..." She stopped when she saw Blaine closing his eyes, almost wincing at her words. "Dear?"

"Soon there won't be a book store anymore, Mom," he confessed softly. "It's not working."

"Oh, Blaine. I'm so sorry to hear that. Are you sure?"

"Yeah. I've been trying to get people interested with some special events, but... it's hopeless. I should've known it was all in vain."

"It wasn't in vain," she said, with such conviction that it made him look up at her. "Think of all the amazing experiences you had because of this bookshop. I'm sure you can think of at least one that makes it all worthwhile..."

Blaine didn't have to think long. The word slipped through his lips, soft as velvet, sweet as honey. "Kurt."

"Kurt," she confirmed with a nod and a smile.

"But he's gone now," Blaine frowned, as he scooted closer into his mother's embrace.

"Wasn't meeting him still worth it? Wasn't it still beautiful to share what you had with him?"

Blaine thought, yes. With Kurt, he had loved someone – he still did, oh, so deeply – in a way he hadn't even known it was possible to love. He had learnt to be vulnerable, to simply be himself with someone; to bare every last secret in his soul, to be accepted; to be cherished. He had learnt to be happy, and without a doubt in the world, he would go through the pain a thousand times over if it meant he got to experience that feeling again, even for just a second.

He didn't need to answer. Heather understood.

*

Since Kurt was now the only one who hadn't screwed anything up (yet, he reminded himself), he was in charge of bringing coffee to the big names at Vogue. Every morning, he went to the Starbucks just around the corner, making sure to be there in time to get in line with the other New Yorkers in desperate need of caffeine, to put their steaming hot selections on the desks of the people he needed to impress.

One would think ordering coffee was a simple enough task, but it wasn't. It really wasn't. Kurt had never met people who were as selective and precise about the way they wanted their coffees before. If it had been anyone else, he would have rolled his eyes and told them to get them themselves, but since these were the people that held his future in his hands, he was always careful to get everyone exactly what they wanted, exactly when they wanted it.

This was the reason why, when he woke up that morning and realized his alarm hadn't gone off, he instantly shrieked, and elbowed Rachel out of his way to get to the bathroom before her, yelling his apologies over his shoulder.

He couldn't be late. Being late when you were an intern at Vogue was not only frowned upon, it was a giant step closer to being fired. The competition with the other interns was getting so intense, their bosses were watching them more and more attentively every day, seeking out every flaw, every failure. Kurt was terrified of being the next one forced to clean out his desk, and slink out with his head lowered in share...

He rushed into Starbucks a mere five minutes before he had to be at the office. He hadn't styled his hair and he was pretty sure he was wearing socks that didn't match, but he really couldn't do much about those things now. The only thing he could do was to step at the end of the long (oh gosh, why is it so long?) line and hope the baristas hurried the fuck up so he wouldn't be too terribly late, but it wasn't looking good. Kurt was this close to crying in frustration and sheer fear.

"Kurt?"

He turned at the sound of his name to find his usual barista, standing next to him with a stack of paper cups he had apparently just gotten from the backroom. His name was Scott, and he always greeted him with a friendly smile. That counted for a lot in Kurt's book.

"Hi," Kurt said, breathlessly.

"Are you okay?" Scott tilted his head to the side, emerald eyes roaming Kurt's uncharacteristically disheveled appearance.

"Not really. I have to be at work in less than five minutes with my boss' coffee orders and I'm pretty sure I'm going to get fired, because I'll never make it, and I think I'm about to have a nervous breakdown," Kurt muttered, pinching the bridge of his nose.

Scott eyed him for a moment, thoughtful. "Hazelnut machiatto, latte with soy milk and an extra shot of espresso and a chai tea, right?"

Kurt blinked in surprise. He went there every day, but so did a lot of other people. It was sort of remarkable that Scott could remember his order so well. "Yes, that's exactly right."

Scott gave him a quick little smile. "Come over here with me."

Kurt followed, clutching the strap of his messenger bag like a lifeline. "What? Why?"

"Just... come on," Scott rolled his eyes.

Kurt stood by the end of the counter, away from where the rest of the customers were getting their drinks, anxiously staring at the clock hanging on the wall, wondering why Scott asked him to wait here. He only had a few minutes. Oh god, he was going to be on a flight back to Ohio tonight, wasn't he?

Scott suddenly reappeared again, presenting a cup holder to him with four cups in it. "Here they are. I added a mocha for you because I think you really need one this morning. Now go!"

"I... oh my god, you're amazing," Kurt mumbled disbelievingly. He began rummaging in his bag for his wallet. "You're my favorite barista ever. They should build statues in your honor. Oh my god, you've saved my life. Where the hell is my...?"

"It's on me," Scott said, placing a hand on Kurt's forearm to stop him. "Just go, run, try not to get fired."

"But... why... I..." Kurt's eyes went wide.

"I'd like to say it's completely selfless, but it isn't," Scott bit his lip, in more of a flirty way than out of nerves. "I've been dying to ask you out since you walked through that door for the first time."

For a moment, Kurt completely forgot his hurry to get to work. He wasn't used to guys openly coming on to him like that, in the middle of a coffee shop. He hadn't even thought about dating since he had arrived in New York.

Scott was a few inches taller than him, his hair was a beautiful sand blonde, and he had a broad, strong back. He was a classically attractive guy, and he was always really sweet when they talked, albeit briefly, while he made Kurt's order.

Kurt thought about Blaine. He thought about how different he'd been lately, how distant they were, how they were supposed to be just friends now. His first instinct was to say no, but then he realized... if Blaine was moving on, Kurt had to do the same.

"Yes, I'd love to," he smiled brightly.

"Great," Scott beamed happily. "Now go, go, go! You can give me your number later, if you have time to come here for your lunch break? Or maybe tomorrow morning, if you can't stop by before. But now go!"

Kurt didn't say another word. He just simply smiled at him again, and then ran out of the shop, careful not to spill the coffee.

He made it to work just in time, and distributed the drinks, relieved that he still had his job and, better yet, he also had a date.

*

Blaine could be as blind as he pleased, but there were some things he couldn't ignore any longer.

Closing the book store was one of them.

It was inevitable. He tried everything he could think of. He worked his hardest, but in the end... he decided he was just putting extra stress on himself that he couldn't deal with right now.

He donated the children's books to hospitals and schools, donated the furniture to Habitat for Humanity, and sold everything else.

The day he closed the door for the last time, empty and sadder than he had ever seen it before, he cried. He sat on the wooden floor looking around for a long time, and let out all the pain. He cried because his lifelong dream had failed, because his mother was getting worse every day, because he was losing one of the last things that linked him to Kurt. His heart was broken in more pieces than he could count. This wasn't something he could fix so easily.

Maybe it wasn't something he could fix at all.

*

Since Kurt always worked on the weekends, they arranged their date for a Thursday night. Kurt was genuinely excited about the prospect of going out with the handsome barista.

Rachel helped him choose something nice to wear (truthfully, he just let her think she helped, since all of her suggestions deserved an arched eyebrow from him, because... really? Those boots with that sweater? What was she even thinking?). But she actually did provide moral support: she knew him so well, and was aware of the internal battle he was dealing with, even if he hadn't mentioned it. She could see him glancing at his phone or his computer every now and then, hoping for a message from Blaine.

"You deserve to go out and have some fun," she said as she kissed his cheek. "No one says you have to marry this guy. Going out on a date won't commit you to anything. It's fun, that's all. You've been working hard, and it'll be nice to dedicate one night to a nice evening with someone new."

Kurt sighed as he wrapped one of his favorite silk scarves around his neck, and then turned to face her, with a little smile on his face. "I really missed you, you know."

Her eyes filled with tears (like every time they acknowledged everything that had happened) and hugged him tightly before he could protest about her wrinkling his shirt.

He was literally saved by the bell. Rachel jumped away from him and ran to the front door to be the one to welcome Scott into their apartment. As Kurt gave the finishing touches to his outfit, he could hear Rachel interrogating him. He rolled his eyes fondly and went to rescue him before she scared him away.

Scott's dazzling smile when he saw him made warmth spread all over Kurt. After a few polite pleasantries, they said goodbye to Rachel and left. Scott said he hoped Kurt would like the restaurant he'd chosen as they walked together to the subway lit by the beautiful New York night lights.

They went to a Thai restaurant that Kurt hadn't had a chance to try yet, and there wasn't a single moment of awkward silence. Scott was very nice. He was also charming and funny and listened to everything Kurt had to say, appearing to be sincerely interested in his life, his job, his family. The conversation flowed between them easily, and Kurt found himself smiling and laughing and having a great time. It had been a really good idea to go out with Scott, and he was already planning on seeing him again.

They went out for a little walk afterwards, regretting they both had to be up very early in the morning for work. As they were about to cross the street, Scott reached for Kurt's hand, and tangled their fingers together lightly, giving him the chance to pull away if he wanted. Kurt looked down at their hands and then squeezed lightly. It felt nice to be able to walk around the city holding hands with a man without people giving them a second glance.

Tomorrow's early morning meant the date had to end a lot sooner than either of them would have wanted. Scott, like a perfect gentleman, walked him back to his apartment, and if they stood a little closer to each other in the subway than was necessary, neither of them mentioned it.

They stood facing each other at the apartment's door, both a little bashful now, because this felt a little awkward. Kurt decided to break the ice.

"Thanks for tonight," he said softly. "I'm really glad we did this."

"Me too," Scott smiled. "I'd love to go out with you again, if you'd like?"

Kurt fidgeted with his keys, anticipating what was coming next. "That would be lovely."

"Great," Scott seemed truly happy that Kurt wanted to see him again. He took a deep breath and a few seconds of uneasy silence hung between them. "I... would it be okay if I kiss you goodnight, Kurt?"

Kurt couldn't find the right words, so he simply nodded, and then leaned forward slightly, waiting for Scott to close the rest of the distance.

As soon as their lips met, Kurt's breath hitched, but for all the wrong reasons. Yes, Scott's lips were gentle against his and the way he cupped his cheek was perfect but... it wasn't right. There weren't any dark curls for Kurt to run his fingers through; Scott's eyelashes weren't long enough to brush against Kurt's skin when his eyes fluttered shut; the way his hand gripped his waist wasn't safe and familiar; his taste was foreign and, though not unpleasant, not what Kurt was used to.

Scott wasn't Blaine.

Kurt pulled away abruptly, staring at Scott with wide, shocked eyes.

Scott frowned a little sadly. "There's someone else you'd rather be with, isn't there?"

"I..." Kurt swallowed. "What?"

"I can tell," Scott shrugged and leaned against the wall, with a sigh of acceptance. "I can tell there's someone you haven't gotten over yet."

Kurt closed his eyes, slumped against the wall next to him and sighed. "I'm sorry, Scott. I..."

"No, don't be," Scott turned to face him, and Kurt could see there was no resentment there. "Look, Kurt... I really, really like you, and I'd love to see you again and get to know you better. But I don't want to be a rebound or whatever..."

"No! I wouldn't... I wouldn't do that to you, Scott. You're a fantastic guy..."

"And since I'm such a fantastic guy," Scott said teasingly, rolling his eyes at himself, "I'll give you all the time you need. If you decide you're ready for whatever this between us might be, you know where to find me. I'll be very glad to take you out on a second date, and a third and a fourth."

Before Kurt could reply, Scott kissed him quickly, and with one last smile he walked away, leaving Kurt alone in the hallway, wondering if he'd finally learned the reason for that constant yearning feeling in his chest he couldn't seem to shake.

*

To: blaine.anderson@gmail.com

From: khummel@vogue.com

Subject: [No Subject]

Blaine,

I'm worried because I haven't heard from you in a while. I know you said you were really busy, but... if I have to be honest, I don't really believe that. I don't know why you're pushing me away like this, but please, just talk to me and explain what's going on. Give me a reason why I can't be a part of your life anymore.

When I told you I didn't want to lose you, I meant it. I believed you when you told me you didn't want to lose me, either. I don't know what happened after I left, and I don't know at what point you stopped missing me and moved on, but I'd like to understand.

I met someone. His name is Scott, and he works at the Starbucks where I go every morning before going to the office. He's really sweet and attractive, and he asked me out. We went out for dinner tonight, and the first thing I did when I came home was to write this email to you. There's so much I want to tell you, so much I wish I could say to your face... but since we have no other choice, this will have to do.

He was amazing – the date was amazing. And yet, when he walked me home, when he kissed me... I thought only of you. I thought of the guy who hasn't talked to me in weeks, the guy I'm supposed to be just friends with.

So I need to know. I need to know if you're saying goodbye to me, if I'm not even allowed to consider you my friend any longer. Because if everything between us is over, then I need to move on the same way you've obviously moved on already.

And if it isn't over, if something else is going on, if you haven't forgotten about me the way it feels that you have, I need to know that, too. Because I'm in love with you, Blaine, and if there's even the slightest chance that I can keep you in my life, I'll take it.

Please, just don't keep me in the dark any longer. I need to know.

I miss you. I need you. I love you.

K.-

*

For a few days, Kurt checked his email almost obsessively.

Blaine had to reply, and tell him one way or the other how he felt, right? Even if what he had to say wasn't what Kurt wanted to hear, he would reply. Kurt had told him he was in love with him, so even if he needed to gently let him down, Blaine had to reply.

But as the days passed, as Blaine's silence became heavier and more painful with every second that went by, Kurt gradually understood. There wasn't any hope left. Blaine's silence was his way of telling him he didn't feel the same.

Kurt's heart broke into a million pieces, because for the first time he had allowed himself to fall in love with someone, and instead of bringing him the joy he thought he had been denying himself all this time, it brought him even more pain.

Kurt was so tired of being hurt.

Maybe it wouldn't hurt as much once he accepted that he and Blaine were over.