Kurt rubbed at the persistently throbbing ache in his temple impatiently. He had no time to spare for headaches, during another ridiculously crazy day at the office.

Back when Kurt was just a guy from Ohio who religiously bought Vogue, he hadn't imagined how incredibly difficult it was to put his favorite magazine together. He had thought it was an effortless task, done by glamorous people indulging their whimsy. He hadn't thought about harried interns scrambling to get every tiny detail right before deadline, to ensure their bosses wouldn't serve their heads on a silver platter.

Fashion really was a deadly serious business to those people.

And even knowing that, there were still moments when Kurt yearned to share in the madness. He wished he had articles of his own to write or to voice his opinions at the numerous meetings he attended, instead of merely serving coffee to the truly important people in the company. He wanted to do more. He wanted to be more.

Little did he know he would get a chance to experience some excitement soon.

One exciting day, one of his bosses, Isabelle, took Kurt along with her to a cover fashion photo shoot, set at an aircraft hangar, to show him how the project took shape. He updated Isabelle on her messages during the hour long drive to the location, then passed the time chatting, as if she was any of his other coworkers. One of the most important women at Vogue confided to him that she suspected they had given her this project to distract her, because she and her longtime boyfriend had recently broken up. Kurt instinctively made a sympathetic noise and patted her hand, momentarily forgetting that she was his boss.

She smiled at him gratefully, and then asked curiously how he came to be working at Vogue in New York. He gave her a very short version of his life, glossing over some of the more negative stuff, but she guessed how difficult it must have been for a boy like him, growing up in Lima.

Once they arrived at the shoot, Kurt marveled at the immensity of the place. The crew was already setting up the proper lighting, and the photographer was organizing all his camera lenses on a small table so he would have them conveniently at hand. He greeted Isabelle with familiarity, before she introduced Kurt. It was obvious that they had worked together previously.

The model was a beautiful brunette with perfect cheekbones and hypnotically long eyelashes, named Katrina. She was wearing a white robe, waiting impatiently for the stylist to hand her the first outfit for the shoot.

The problem was she wasn't there yet.

It was easy to understand why Isabelle began to stress out, when they were already falling behind schedule, before they even started. She immediately dialed the stylist's number to find out where she was. An overwrought rant from her phone explained as Isabelle's horrified face settled into worried dismay. Apparently, the stylist's van had been involved in a multivehicle traffic accident, squashed between two other vehicles. She was apologetic, but she really had no idea how long it would be before she could get there. She suggested changing the shoot for a different day, or finding another stylist to replace her, and soon.

Isabelle groaned in frustration and dropped into a chair burying her face in her hands.

"I can't believe this," she muttered. "We have no time left to reschedule. It was so hard to book Katrina, because she's been in such demand lately. But we need her, to pull off this cover. She's the model everyone's talking about."

"There must be some way we can manage..." Kurt bit his lip, hesitantly. "You have impeccable taste. I'm sure you could put together some outfits for her..."

"I'm good at planning layouts, Kurt," she whined, looking up at him with wide eyes. "I plan every detail well in advance to ensure nothing goes wrong. Even my own outfits. I need two weeks lead time to arrange this look. I admit I'm a control freak, and I have completely lost control in this situation."

Kurt worried his lip between his teeth, thinking hard. He looked at the racks full of clothes behind them. "May I try something?"

Isabelle made a vague gesture with her hand. "Sure. Go have some fun while I think how to fix this disaster. I'm a mess! Why would someone ask me to take over this damn shoot? Ugh, it's going to be my fault we're not going to have a cover this month and Anna is going to kill me and I..."

Kurt left Isabelle babbling to herself and quickly sorted through the hangers. He could clearly see a theme among the excellent pieces: mostly earth tones that needed a shock of color so they wouldn't look drab and boring. Maybe some bold make up. He grabbed a few things at random, laying them on a table next to him before going back to the rack to find matches.

Since Isabelle had decided to take her anxiety out on one of the crew members, Kurt asked Katrina, who was looking bored and frustrated, to follow him, so they could get her ready. He crossed his fingers behind his back while she retreated behind the privacy curtain with the first outfit. He had a quick word with the make-up artist, politely suggesting what he wanted, careful not to overstep his place.

When Katrina reemerged, she looked amazing in a sophisticated country chic look; the theme of this month's cover. Kurt had to admit he would kill for a pair of boots like the ones she was wearing with ivory leggings. It wasn't rocket science: all of the pieces had been already there and he had only combined the right ones into a fabulous outfit, but he was still very proud of what he'd done. He gently called Isabelle from where she was about to have a nervous breakdown, and he saw her gape at Katrina in disbelief.

Before he knew it, he had his arms full of his boss, who was kissing his cheek enthusiastically. "Kurt, you're an angel!"

Kurt was ushered back into the racks to put more outfits together while Katrina had her hair styled and make-up done. He knew he could do this. If there was one thing Kurt knew well, it was combining clothing into fabulous fashion. He could make any outfit work, even with the most extravagant pieces.

He knew he had been born to do this.

*

When Kurt arrived at Vogue the next morning, with the usual coffee orders, and was immediately called into Isabelle's office, he panicked. Had Anna seen the pictures from the shoot and hated every outfit he had put together? Had he overstepped by taking over the wardrobe department? Was he going to be fired? This couldn't be the end of his career at Vogue. He wasn't ready for it to end. Not when he was truly starting to enjoy it.

"Stop looking so scared," Isabelle said kindly when Kurt walked into her office, placing her latte on the desk with shaky hands. "You did nothing wrong."

Kurt visibly relaxed and sat gratefully, when she told him to, his knees still trembling. "So yesterday's shoot isn't a complete disaster? I have to say, I had the time of my life. But if I screwed everything up... I was just trying to help."

"And the looks you put together were fantastic, Kurt," she replied with a smile. "You know, I should've been able to style that shoot myself even with my eyes closed. But I let my personal frustrations and disappointments in my private life get me down yesterday, and I wasn't capable of doing my job. I'm sorry you had to see that. I'm a little embarrassed that you had to step in and save my ass."

"It's okay," he said softly. "We've all been through bad break-ups," he added bitterly. He didn't really want to think or talk about it, though. He was still so, terribly hurt that Blaine had completely disappeared from his life just like that.

"True. I guess they're a necessary part of life," Isabelle sighed and leaned back on her seat. "But I'm really glad I could count on you. You saved me from humiliating myself, Kurt. You have no idea how much I appreciate what you did."

Kurt shrugged a little bashfully. "It was no big deal. I just had a lot of fun and you must know I really loved doing it."

"I bet it's a lot more fun than buying our coffees and taking notes in our meetings, isn't it?" She said with a little smirk.

Kurt chuckled. "Well, yes. It's a lot closer to what I really want to do."

She was silent for a moment, watching him. He couldn't read her eyes, and he still was a little unsure of why she had called him into her office in the first place. Was it to thank him for his help? He had the feeling there was something else.

"Kurt, I want you to go to your cubicle and collect your stuff..."

Kurt's breath hitched with dismay. No. After everything she'd said... were they letting him go anyway? He felt the sharp pangs of disappointment, the awful ache of failure stinging all over his body.

"... and move into the desk right outside my office," she continued, suddenly beaming at him. "Because from now on, Mr. Hummel, you're my personal assistant."

Kurt's face must have morphed from consternation into utter joy in the most hilarious way, because Isabelle barked out a laugh as she watched him. "What?"

She leaned over the desk and reached for his hand. "Kurt, honey, you gave me a glimpse of what you can do, a tiny hint of your talent. I want to give you the chance to learn as much as you can now, so you can take over more responsibility in the future."

"I can't believe... are you serious?" His voice had gone all high-pitched, and it made Isabelle laugh again.

"Yes, I'm completely serious. I can't promote you directly from intern to head of the wardrobe department, but I can certainly push you to the next step in the ladder. Now that you're an official member of Vogue's team..."

Kurt couldn't really contain his happiness anymore. Before he knew what he was doing, he was rushing around the desk and pulling his boss into a hug.

*

As soon as Rachel heard the news, she was squealing and screaming, and making plans to take Kurt out for drinks and dinner that night after her performance, so they could celebrate. He'd been eager to share his good news with her, still bouncing in excitement himself, hoping no one could hear his own squeals of absolute joy, while hiding in a Vogue bathroom stall. He called his father next, who congratulated Kurt a million times. Then paused just when he was about to call Blaine.

Suddenly, his happiness seemed to shrink and disappear, and he felt bitter disappointment again, because the one person he dearly wanted to share his success with was the one who had deserted him forever.

And Kurt still couldn't accept that.

*

After the second rum and Coke, Kurt switched to Diet Coke.

"Oh, come on. We're celebrating! You just got promoted. Is there a better excuse to drink?" Rachel teased, as she chewed on the straw of her strawberry daiquiri. "You don't have to work tomorrow. It's Saturday."

"And I don't want my celebration hangover to last until Monday," Kurt replied rolling his eyes. "I don't need to get drunk to celebrate, anyway. I'm fine like this."

"If you say so..." Rachel muttered, and then nudged his foot with hers under the table. "But we should definitely pick up some celebration cheesecake on our way home. We deserve the treat. Well you do, and as your best friend, I get to share. "

Kurt laughed. "Cheesecake isn't a celebratory dessert. That's for sad days."

Rachel bit her lip. "Well... you do still look a little sad."

Kurt took a deep breath. He knew where this was going. They had talked about it so many times already. "Don't go there, Rachel."

"I'm just saying..." she murmured innocently. "You're obviously still upset about Blaine. But I don't think you're really trying to move on. Scott was such a sweet guy! Maybe you should give him another call, and try again."

With a groan, Kurt dropped his head on the table and looked at Rachel pitifully. "Please, please, please, can we not talk about it? At least not tonight? I'd like to actually enjoy the fact that I've accomplished something worthwhile for the first time in years."

"Sorry, you're right," Rachel made a gesture as if she were zipping her lips together. "I won't mention Blaine again until you tell me you want to talk about it."

"Thank you," Kurt sighed in relief.

They stayed for another hour, chatting about anything and everything. Kurt mostly babbled about work, telling Rachel excitedly about his new responsibilities, and about the perks that being Isabelle's assistant would bring. Now, he would have a voice. Isabelle had made it pretty clear that she trusted his judgment and that she would listen to his fashion opinions. It was part of his training, she had told him, so one day he could go another step up the ladder.

She was like his fairy godmother.

They were only a few blocks away from their building, so they decided to walk back. The weather was getting colder with each passing day, so Rachel pressed against Kurt's side as they walked, their arms locked with their hands in their pockets. Kurt didn't mind walking everywhere in New York. He enjoyed every second he spent wandering its streets. Sometimes he still couldn't believe he was actually living there.

Rachel was completely absorbed in a story she was telling him about something that had happened that night during her performance – a last minute emergency involving her shoes; those things that happened in big Broadway productions all the time, she said – as they went up the elevator. Kurt fished for the apartment keys in his pocket, knowing she was too distracted to stop to open the door.

But once the elevator doors opened in their floor, he forgot about the keys and about Rachel's broken heel. He stopped walking abruptly halfway down the hall, his eyes wide with shocked surprise, when he recognized the hunched figure sitting against the wall next to their apartment.

"And then I told her..." Rachel frowned and looked up at Kurt, worriedly. "What's wrong, Kurt? Why did you...? Who's that?"

Kurt could feel his heart pounding against his chest, and he took a deep breath. "Blaine?" He said shakily.

Blaine glanced up from his spot on the floor, startled. If Kurt hadn't spent as much time becoming familiar with Blaine, with every inch of his skin, he probably wouldn't have recognized him: his curls were loose and messy, uncharacteristically free from their prison of gel. There was dark stubble painting his cheeks and jaw, and dark marks of exhaustion under his hazel eyes.

"Oh," Rachel said, her eyes going wide in surprise and understanding.

"Hi," Blaine muttered, standing up quickly. "I... I'm sorry I came without warning you..."

Kurt felt as if he had turned into stone. He couldn't move; he couldn't take his eyes off him. "What are you doing here?"

"I need to talk to you," Blaine answered earnestly, taking a hesitant step forward.

"Oh, so now you want to talk?" Kurt replied, his broken voice betraying how hurt he was.

Blaine recoiled and looked down at his feet, with an agonizing silence between them. They had both obviously forgotten Rachel was still there, until she cleared her throat and pulled her arm free from Kurt's.

"So... I think I'm going to leave you two alone," she said as she walked back to the elevator. "You have a lot to talk about..."

"Rachel," Kurt whispered sharply, almost like a warning, but she raised her hands in front of her.

"No, Kurt. I'm going to the Starbucks down the street to have a cup of tea, and I'll be back soon." The doors were almost closed all the way, but she still managed to get a few last words out: "Let him explain before you kill him!"

And just like that, they were alone in the empty hallway.

Kurt took a deep breath and fidgeted with the keys, before sighing deeply. "Well. I... you might as well come in."

"You don't have to let me in, if you don't want to," Blaine said uncomfortably.

"Just shut up and come in," Kurt said brusquely, as he pushed the door open and walked into the apartment, without waiting to see if Blaine would follow.

He heard the soft click of the front door closing behind Blaine a few seconds later, and then his hesitant steps as he entered the living room.

Kurt paced restlessly around the room, not looking directly at Blaine, but feeling the effect of his presence. He could feel his eyes unsurely watching him, as he stood there awkwardly.

Kurt was unsure, too. He didn't know if he wanted to listen to Blaine explain, of if he wanted to yell at him first. He didn't know if he wanted to pull him into his arms and kiss him breathless, or if he wanted to slap him very hard across the face, for putting him through all that misery.

"Kurt..." Blaine whispered, an edge of anxiety in his tone, but before he could continue, something seemed to snap inside of Kurt, liberating the hurt and angry feelings he'd suppressed for weeks.

"Who the hell do you think you are, Blaine Anderson?" He yelled. "You were telling me how much you missed me one day, and then you were gone the very next day! And don't you dare give me that bullshit excuse of you being too busy to type a goddamn email or call me, because I don't buy it! Do you have any idea of how fucking worried I was? I didn't know if you were trying to get rid of me and didn't know how, or if something had happened to you! You stupid asshole, you could've been dead and I would never have known!"

"I'm not dead," Blaine muttered.

"I can see that now!" Kurt said furiously.

"My mom is," Blaine added in a painful whisper.

The temperature in the room seemed to suddenly drop a million degrees colder. Kurt's breath caught in his chest, and the words of anger died on their way up his throat. He stopped pacing and turned to really look at Blaine for the first time. He looked so tired and broken, he seemed on the verge of collapsing.

"What?" Kurt asked breathlessly. He must have not heard him right.

"My mom died," Blaine was gazing at a point behind Kurt's head. His body was tense and his voice was brittle, too. The pain in his eyes was so palpable that Kurt could feel it himself. "Two weeks ago."

"Oh my god..." Kurt covered his mouth with his hands and then, before he thought about what he was doing, he crossed the room and pulled Blaine into his arms. Blaine allowed Kurt to hug him without protest, but his arms didn't lift to wrap around him in return. "Oh my god, Blaine. What happened?"

"Cancer," Blaine spat the word like poison. "There was nothing anyone could do. It was too late."

"Why didn't you tell me?" Kurt asked, pulling away enough to look him in the eyes. "I would've been there for you! I would've gone back to Ohio..."

"That's exactly why I couldn't tell you," Blaine admitted. "I didn't want to be the reason you went back to Ohio. I didn't want you to lose your internship."

"You're ridiculous. You're far more important to me than a job," Kurt shook his head. "Blaine... I'm so sorry this happened to her. I'm sorry you lost her."

Blaine nodded slowly, but couldn't say anything. Kurt let him go, feeling like he was only overwhelming him more with his touch. Blaine probably needed some space to put his thoughts in order.

"We should sit down," Kurt made a vague gesture towards the couch. "I think there's a lot we have to talk about."

Blaine complied, taking a seat at one end of the couch, while Kurt sat at the other. They were facing each other, but with enough distance between them not to touch in any way. Kurt remained silent, waiting for Blaine to talk whenever he was ready.

"I know you're mad at me," Blaine finally spoke, in a low voice, after a few minutes. His hazel eyes were fixed on his own hands, fidgeting on his lap. "And you have every right to be. No matter what happened to me, it wasn't your fault. I shouldn't have pushed you away the way I did. I just didn't know how to handle everything."

"I'm not going to deny that I'm still upset, but, Blaine... at this point, all I want to do is to understand," Kurt said gently.

Blaine nodded again, and took a deep breath. "Things really went all to hell, after you left. At first it was only hard because I was missing you so much, but then I started having cash flow trouble with the bookshop..."

"My dad told me he saw it was closed when he drove by," Kurt remembered, frowning. "What happened?"

Blaine shrugged sadly. "You were right all along. Apparently, there aren't a lot of people who enjoy reading in Lima, Ohio. Not enough anyway. So I had to close it."

"Blaine..." Just hearing about it made Kurt ache. He couldn't even imagine how heartbroken Blaine had to be, at losing his lifelong dream.

"I did my best. I tried every idea I could think of before I had no choice but to give up," Blaine explained. He looked older just talking about it. "And then my mom told me she was sick, so I really didn't have the energy for anything else. I sold and donated everything, and then I moved in with her. She was really weak and tired the last few weeks, so she needed my help for everything." Blaine ran a hand through his unkempt curls. "Kurt, I really need you to understand that it's not that I didn't want you in my life anymore. It's just... I couldn't deal with anything else, and I knew that if I told you about what was going on, you would jump in the first plane back to Ohio. I didn't want to be the reason why you lost your dreams again, or the reason you came back to the town you were so desperate to leave for years..."

"So you went through everything alone?" Kurt asked, desolated. "Blaine... why did you do that to yourself? You needed someone there..."

"There was already too much to deal with, Kurt. I couldn't add anything else," Blaine sighed.

"So when you said you were busy..." Kurt murmured.

"It was true. It was just not the kind of busy you probably imagined. I was taking care of my mom and dealing with clearing out the store..." Blaine answered, and then bit his lip. "And since we're being completely honest here... the distance was pretty rough on me. I missed you so much every single day, and every time I thought of you here, it felt like another weight on my shoulders."

"I missed you, too," Kurt said immediately.

They didn't say anything else for a moment, resting their cheeks on the back of the couch and staring at each other. There was so much Kurt needed to know, but Blaine looked completely exhausted.

"You don't look very good," Kurt commented, concerned.

Blaine smiled in a joyless, bitter way. "I haven't gotten much sleep lately. I just... I can't stop thinking about what would've happened if things had been different. What if I'd given the book store one more week? What if I'd never stopped emailing you? What if I'd known a little earlier that my mom was sick? Would I've been able to do anything to help her beat it? Would I...?" He stopped talking, took a shaky breath. A few tears were suddenly making their way down his cheeks. He hid his face in his hands, and soon his shoulders were trembling with suppressed sobs.

Kurt's heart broke into a million pieces as he watched him. He couldn't give Blaine his space any more. He needed to hold him, to do something to ease his pain. He crawled across the couch and wrapped his arms around him. Blaine's stiff body resisted at first, but after a few seconds, it melted into his embrace. Blaine cried helplessly against his shoulder, as he held Kurt's sweater in tight fists. The sound of his sobs seemed to echo around the apartment, and Kurt wondered for a moment if Blaine had truly allowed himself to mourn everything he had lost in the past weeks, in the past months, or if he'd been holding everything inside.

"It's okay," he murmured in his ear, as soothingly as he could. "It's okay, sweetheart. You did everything you could."

"I'm so sorry I hurt you," Blaine managed to say, his voice choked. "I'm so sorry, Kurt."

"I know," Kurt kissed the top of his head, the unruly curls tickling his nose. "I'm sorry, too, baby."

Kurt wasn't sure how long they sat there, just clinging to each other while Blaine cried himself dry. Kurt simply allowed him to vent his pain, knowing he probably needed it, whispering soothing words into his ear every now and then, just so Blaine would know that he wasn't going anywhere.

Kurt was crying, too, but his were silent tears. He ached for Blaine, felt his pain as if it were his own.

Finally Blaine sat up, wiping his face, after what seemed like hours. His eyes were red and so were his lips, were he had been biting on them, unsuccessfully trying to keep his sobs quiet. He swayed a little, and Kurt realized just how exhausted he really was.

"Come on," he murmured, standing up and offering Blaine his hand. "You desperately need some rest. There are still things we need to talk about, but we'll have to save them until after you've gotten some decent sleep."

It looked as if Blaine wanted to protest, but he had no strength left. He accepted Kurt's hand and walked after him down the hallway and into his bedroom, his eyes barely open. Kurt settled him on the edge of his bed, to grab a pair of sweatpants and an old t-shirt for each of them from his dresser.

"I'm going to help you change now, okay?" He muttered, brushing Blaine's hair back lovingly. Blaine nodded sleepily. "Lift your arms for me, sweetheart."

After they were both in their comfortable clothes, Kurt helped Blaine into bed and then slipped under the blankets next to him. A soft, contented sigh escaped Blaine's lips, as he settled against his side, his face in the crook of Kurt's neck. He fell abruptly into a deep sleep within seconds.

Kurt, in the other hand, stayed awake for a long time, just staring up at the ceiling and listening to Blaine breathe, hardly daring to believe that Blaine was back in his arms, and anxiously hoping he wouldn't have to let him go again.