It wasn't the first time that Blaine Anderson's heart got broken, but it felt like the worst of them. It felt like it could be last, too, because he didn't think he would be able to put it back together after this.

Everything Kurt had said – it sent chills down his spine, and his blood turned to ice in his veins.

He had never thought Kurt would do this to him.

Blaine could understand that Kurt was going through a lot, that sleeping with someone other than Mark could be a bit life-changing, but this? Accusing Blaine of basically going against his will? Walking out on him completely disregarding his feelings, not caring about Blaine being left behind with a broken heart?

That was not the Kurt Hummel he had fallen in love with.

*

He went back to bed once Kurt was gone, slipping under the covers and hiding there, as if that would solve everything. He didn't bother putting clothes on. The apartment seemed colder than usual, but the cold distracted him from the pain. Anything was better than the pain.

The bed smelled like Kurt. The pillows were bathed in his intoxicating scent – a mix of gardenias and aftershave; a mix of sweat and sex that raised goose bumps on Blaine's skin.

He closed his eyes, because even enveloped in darkness as he was now, he wanted to make sure he didn't see anything. Blaine was somehow sure that he would be able to see his life escaping from his hold if he kept his eyes open. It would slip away from him in the same way Kurt had.

Best friends. Deep down inside, Blaine doubted that title would remain intact. Something had altered and broken between them, and the way Kurt had left before they could work it out made him think the end was closer than a solution.

He kept his eyes closed and hoped for sleep. Maybe in his dreams, Kurt would still be next to him, and he wouldn't feel as pathetic and wrong as he did when he was awake.

*

By the time Kurt got home, the anger had melted away, but the guilt and the confusion had swept right in to take over, choking him with every step he took from the subway station to his apartment.

It was all too much. Thinking about Mark, believing for just one blissful second that he was right next to him in bed, holding him in his arms; finding Blaine instead, who had confessed his love for him, as if Kurt should have expected, should have known somehow.

He hadn't meant what he said – those awful, disgusting words that left his lips before he even knew what he was doing. But panic had risen in his throat, unsure how to deal with this. There wasn't a protocol to follow. How were you supposed to handle the fact that, four months after the love of your life died, you slept with your best friend? The one person Kurt had always trusted, no questions asked.

The only other man Kurt had loved unconditionally.

Kurt walked into the bathroom and immediately started the shower. He removed his clothes quickly, as he watched the steam rising behind the glass screen. The water was scalding when he finally stepped under it, and he whimpered in pain, but didn't do anything to fix it. He closed his eyes and forced himself to stay there, as if he was trying to wash away whatever sin he had just committed.

As if mere water could erase the memories of Blaine from his skin.

So much had been broken that day. So many decisions had been made for the wrong reasons. So many ghosts haunt him. So many mistakes needed to be fixed…

But for now, Kurt sat on the shower floor and cried. He cried for his husband, for his best friend and for himself. He cried because he had already lost too much, and wasn't sure if he would be able to survive losing even more.

*

It wasn't until later that afternoon that Blaine resurfaced from his cocoon of blankets. He dragged himself into the bathroom and showered, before slipping into some sweatpants and a hoodie. He knew he was supposed to eat something, but his stomach couldn't even stand the thought of food. It would have to wait.

Despite how hurt he was, he hadn't been able to stop thinking about how Kurt was doing. Even if Blaine was in pain because of a unrequited love (it was so much more, though, so much more), Kurt's emotional state had been fragile for days. Maybe he was an idiot, but he was also worried.

And years of being Kurt's best friend couldn't be wiped away so easily.

Blaine didn't dare go see him. But he could make sure he was okay anyway.

He grabbed his phone and dialed Rachel's number. She picked up after a few rings, greeting him with a very sleepy voice.

“Hey.”

When Rachel got drunk, she was absolutely useless the following day. She had probably been sleeping most of the time, and wouldn't be any good until the next morning. But if she was a better friend that he had ended being, she would get over herself and do what he needed her to do now.

“Hi, Rach.”

“Oh man, you sound worse than I do,” she exclaimed, surprised. “I didn't think you had drunk that much…”

“I didn't,” Blaine replied. He wasn't sure how much he wanted to reveal to her, but he knew he would have to give her something. “Listen, I… I need to ask you a favor.”

“Yes, I can give you Jason's number. He was really cute, wasn't he? I think his piercings make him look super exotic…” Rachel said, as usually too lost in her own world to be anything other than clueless.

“No, Rach. I need you to stop by Kurt's apartment as soon as you possibly can and check on him,” he explained. He pinched the bridge of his nose, feeling a headache growing there.

Rachel was definitely confused. “What? Why?”

“He was very upset when he left my apartment this morning,” Blaine answered, and he knew he wouldn't be able to keep her away from suspecting anything for too long. “I just want someone to make sure he's okay.”

“And why don't you go yourself? Are you sick?” She asked, and she sounded even more concerned. Knowing her, she was probably worried Blaine had left some kind of nasty virus at her place, and that she would get sick soon. Rachel hated being sick more than anyone else he had ever come across – it meant she had to stay away from the stage.

“No. I'm not sick,” Blaine reassured her. He did feel sick, but he knew it wasn't something she could catch. “Just… please? Can you do it?”

When Rachel Berry remained silent for more than five seconds, it meant something wasn't right. “What the hell happened, Blaine?”

Blaine wanted to lie. He wanted to pretend nothing was wrong. He wanted to give her as many excuses as possible so she would leave him alone. But his pain had been festering all day, and it bubbled up his throat before he could stop himself. “I fucked up, Rachel,” he sobbed.

“Blaine,” she whispered, equal parts worried and scared. “Hey. Come on, it'll be okay. Just tell me what happened…”

Blaine did. He told her everything. He told her everything he hadn't told Kurt. He talked about how long he had been in love with him, how he hadn't been able to find a guy who could fill the empty space in his heart that belonged to Kurt and only Kurt. He told her about how he had convinced himself that he would be perfectly happy with having Kurt in his life in whatever capacity he could have him, even if it meant Blaine never got to experience what true love could be.

He told her about what had happened after her party, and about Kurt's reaction that morning before he stormed off.

“I think he's done with me, and I can't blame him,” Blaine finally said, voice cracking due to how long he had been crying. “But I just want someone to make sure he's okay…”

“But who's going to make sure you are okay, Blaine?” She asked sadly. “What are you going to do?”

Blaine didn't have an answer. He didn't know. He had never imagined he would have to picture life without Kurt at some point. He had never imagined he could fuck up so much.

His tired hazel eyes fell on the guitar and keyboard resting against the wall of the living room. Blaine usually wasn't a hasty guy. He was cautious and smart about everything he did.

Except for what he had done last night and that morning.

But this time, he didn't think. He didn't weight pros and cons. He didn't make lists or try to be practical. He made up his mind, and the decision was final.

It had taken less than a second for his friendship with Kurt to be completely ruined. It took about the same amount of time for him to decide how he was going to answer Rachel's question.

*

“What are you doing here?”

Rachel's smile didn't falter when Kurt opened the door and found her there. He looked terrible – his hair was disheveled and he was wearing sweatpants. Sweatpants were a bad sign in Kurt Hummel. His eyes were bloodshot, as if he had been crying for a while.

She held up a brown paper bag. “I brought you chicken soup!” She exclaimed enthusiastically.

Kurt watched her unamused, not showing any intention to invite her in. “I'm not sick.”

“Well, you don't look too good. I think it would be good for you,” she insisted, determined. Her smile was still in place and it was very unnerving. “Plus, you shouldn't let it go to waste. I got you actual chicken soup instead of the vegan alternative. You know how difficult it is for me to do something like that. You should appreciate the sacrifices I do for you…”

He ran a hand through his hair desperately. “Rachel… please, please, for the love of god, just leave.”

She finally looked down, her happy façade falling. She cleared her throat and looked down at Kurt apologetically. “I can't do that, I'm sorry.”

“Why not?” He asked, exasperated. He just wanted to go back to bed.

“Because Blaine made me promise I would come keep you company,” she replied sheepishly.

Hearing his name made Kurt look away, as if to hide the flash of pain in his eyes from her. “I don't need a babysitter. I'm a big boy. I can take care of myself.”

“Are you a hundred percent sure of that? Because you don't look like you're handling this very well, and it's only been… what? A day?” She said, some sass creeping into her voice.

Kurt was not in the right mind to deal with her. “Rachel, I am not in the mood to entertain you. Leave me alone. I don't care what Blaine asked you to do.”

She sighed in defeat. “Look, I'm… Blaine told me what happened, okay? I'm worried. I just want to make sure you're alright…”

Kurt gaped at her. “Blaine told you? I… how could he…” He stopped and moved away from the door. God, why did Blaine think he had the right to tell people about this? “That was private. It was between him and me.”

Rachel followed him inside, closing the door behind her and immediately walking towards the kitchen to drop the soup. She leaned against the counter once she was there and looked at Kurt from across the room. “Well… he clearly didn't want to talk about it. But I think he needed to. He broke down completely, Kurt. He probably has been bottling up a lot of stuff in the past few years…”

“Well, then maybe you should be keeping him company instead,” Kurt said viciously, and there was that horrible anger once again.

“I can't do that,” Rachel shook her head quietly.

“Oh yeah? And why's that, Rachel?” He asked brusquely.

“Because he's gone.”

Kurt froze completely at her words. It was the last thing he had expected her to say. “I… what? What do you mean he's gone?” He mumbled, gripping the edge of the couch to steady himself.

Rachel raised her hands as if trying to placate him. “Look, I don't know the whole story. He just said something about the band and taking them up on the offer…”

Kurt's grip on the couch tightened even more. His anger was gone, suddenly replaced with the kind of emptiness that left him breathless. “He went on tour? I thought he didn't want to… but what about the kids he's tutoring and his apartment and…?”

“Kurt, I swear I don't know the details,” she said quietly, smiling sadly at him. “He sounded very upset, and he seemed to think he needed to take a break, go away for a while. You have to trust that he knows what he's doing…”

“But he doesn't know what he's doing, Rachel! Neither of us does!” He exclaimed desperately. “I said a lot of things he didn't deserve. I hurt him. But I just… I couldn't deal with what we did…”

When he covered his face with his hands, Rachel crossed the apartment towards him, grabbed him by the arms, and guided him towards the couch, so he could sit. She then sat next to him and wrapper her arms around him.

“Kurt… I know he's your best friend, and I know the fact that he has feelings for you complicates things a little bit, but… this is not the end of the world. Best friends – especially friends as attractive as you two are – fall into this kind of thing very often. Just because you had sex once, doesn't mean it has to turn into a habit. It doesn't mean you have to jump into a relationship. It doesn't mean anything you don't want it to.” She rubbed his back soothingly. “You two are so close, and have shared so much over the years… you even kissed once, remember? At that stupid party?”

“Of course I remember…” Kurt sniffed. “But this is different, Rachel. He told me he loved me. And I… I feel like…”

She squeezed his hand encouragingly. “What do you feel, sweetie?”

Kurt swallowed the lump in his throat and looked at her miserably. “I feel like I cheated on Mark.”

“Oh Kurt,” Rachel's face crumbled a little, but she managed to pull herself back together. “Oh sweetie, no. You didn't do anything wrong…”

He pulled away from her and wrapped his own arms around himself. He felt sick again. “Yes, I did. He hasn't been gone for that long and I… I couldn't even make it for six months before I jumped into some other guy's bed…”

“Except Blaine isn't some other guy,” Rachel pointed out patiently. “He's never been. He never will be. And I'm sure Mark would have wanted you to be happy… you can't put your life on hold forever, Kurt…”

“But it's too soon,” he retorted bitterly. “I feel like I failed him.”

“There isn't a guideline. There isn't a set of rules you are supposed to follow after your husband dies,” Rachel said, looking into his eyes intently. “You are the only one who knows what's best for you. Maybe you needed to do this. Maybe it was a mistake you needed to make as part of your grief. Or maybe it was what you needed to do to figure out you've healed. I can't tell you that, Kurt. No one can.” She paused, wanting to make sure what she was going to say next would really get to him. “But whatever it ends up being, Mark would never judge you for it. You haven't failed him and you're not cheating on him. I know you're still hurting, and I know this is the kind of thing you can't just move on from in the blink of an eye… but he isn't coming back, sweetie. He's dead. I'm so sorry. You just can't keep living your life as if he was still here…”

Kurt broke down completely – he was torn between what he thought was right and what he wanted… and he was almost absolutely sure that what he wanted was exactly what he shouldn't have been wishing for in the first place.

Mark was gone without a choice. He had been having the best day of his life, and then everything vanished in the blink of an eye. Kurt had had to say goodbye to a life-worth of plans and goals, and learn how to breathe again when he felt like the world was crumbling down to pieces around him.

Blaine had chosen to leave. Kurt had hurt him so badly, after Blaine had done nothing but taken care of him day and night, that he had caused him to go away. He had packed up his life and run, and Kurt was starting to believe maybe it had been a wise idea. Maybe the people he loved really should have stay away from him. Maybe they were better off…

Rachel was right. There wasn't a guideline, but he wished there was one.

*

Blaine sat on the back of the van, watching the outline of New York getting smaller in the distance as they drove away.

Even though he had made his decision quickly, without second doubting himself, he couldn't help feeling a little tug in his heart. This city had been his home for years, and he was leaving everything he loved behind.

Georgina and Jimmy were singing along with the radio, sitting together at the front, but Blaine had chosen the loneliness of the back. He was bundled up in a coat and a thick sweater, since the heating had a tendency to malfunction whenever they needed it the most. His curls were a bit out of control, so he had shoved a beanie on his head to hide them from view. He probably looked homeless, but he didn't really care.

His guitar was on his lap, and he strummed the strings lazily a couple of times, but the melodies escaped him. He was too tired and too heartbroken to care at this very moment, though.

Blaine didn't know exactly how many months they would be on the road, but a part of him was looking forward to it. Georgina had been in charge of plotting everything, but she had been very vague when she had explained the details to them, and Blaine had been too hurt to even care. He just knew he wanted to get away, and music was always the perfect refuge. If he could hide in his music for a while, maybe one day he would be able to come back to New York, leaving his broken heart behind.

Or maybe he would find a new home, somewhere without painful memories.

Part of him felt horribly guilty. Leaving Kurt was against every single one of his instincts. But he needed to go against them – if he stayed around, if he pressed Kurt to talk about what had happened, he would only end up causing more pain to the both of them. They needed time. They needed to be smart. If there was any possibility of saving their beautiful friendship, they couldn't rush each other to do things they weren't ready for.

Blaine had always thought time was wise. He just wished he could have had at least some of that wisdom himself.

He fished his phone out of his pocket. Kurt hadn't called. Since Rachel had promised to go see him as soon as possible, Blaine was sure Kurt knew about him leaving already. The fact that he hadn't even tried to stop him was the very last push Blaine needed to actually go through with this.

He took a deep breath and glanced out the window again. The bright lights of New York were barely visible in the horizon now.

“Goodbye, Kurt,” he murmured to the darkness of the van.

*

Isolated applause echoed through the bar as Blaine and his friends stepped off the stage, sweaty and downing the rest of their beers. It was a less enthusiastic response than they were used to at the bar they used to play back in New York, but it was also nice to be playing for a new crowd. Or so was Georgina babbling about, obviously trying to keep everybody's spirits alive.

They were in New Jersey, their very first stop. Blaine was still too close to New York to feel the weight lifted from his shoulders, too close to get rid of the idea of simply hitching a ride back to Kurt. He could buy a train ticket or even get on a cab and be back in New York in a heartbeat… but then why would he leave in the first place if he wasn't going to go through with it?

Jimmy clapped him in the back, grinning at him and snapping him out of his trance. “Great job, Blaine.”

“Thanks, man,” he mumbled distractedly, turning to the new drummer to shake his hand. Rick was a friend of Jimmy's cousin and had arrived from Connecticut that same morning. They were lucky he was quite talented, because they hadn't had time to rehearse much at all.

Georgina put her bass down against the wall and reached for everyone's empty bottles. “Anyone want another beer?”

“Water for me,” Blaine said, shaking his head. “It's my turn to drive later.”

They went back to the table they had occupied before they had headed to the stage earlier, and Blaine was about to take a seat and listen to the next band, when his phone went off in his pocket. He wiped his sweaty hands in his jeans and fished it out of his pocket.

Burt Hummel was calling him.

Blaine swallowed nervously. He had no idea if Burt had heard about what had happened or if this was just one of his routine phone calls to catch up. Either way, he knew he couldn't ignore the man.

“Hey, I'll be right back,” he told the other two already sitting at the table, and quickly slipped out of the bar, ignoring how cold it was. He accepted the call as he found a bench to sit on at the front of the flower shop next door. “Hi, Burt.”

“Hey buddy,” Burt said as warmly as ever. So maybe he didn't know anything… “Am I calling at a bad time?”

“No, no, it's fine. We've just finished playing,” Blaine replied. He leaned his head against the glass of the window display, bracing himself for whatever was about to come out of Burt's mouth. “How are you?”

“Fine, fine… Carole and I just finished having dinner and I thought I would check on my boys,” Burt answered. Blaine felt warmth spreading down his spine, just like every time Burt made him feel part of his family like that. “But when I called Kurt, he only picked up briefly and told me he wasn't in the mood to talk, and that he needed some time… so I'm a bit worried here. Is he okay?”

There was a huge lump in Blaine's throat, and it didn't matter how many times he tried to swallow it down, it wouldn't budge. “I…” He gasped for breath. There were two things he hated more than anything: hurting Kurt, and disappointing Burt. And he had managed to do both in a ridiculously short amount of time.

“Blaine?” Burt murmured, voice laced with concern, when Blaine couldn't speak for a little while. “You're scaring me, buddy. What's wrong with Kurt?”

The lump transformed into a sob that rose all the way to his lips before he could even think to stop it. “I'm so sorry, Burt,” he managed to say. “I screwed up. I screwed up so badly…”

“Oh, no, Blaine…” Burt said softly, almost soothingly. “Come on, buddy, calm down, and tell me what happened.”

Blaine covered his face with his hand and tried to get a grip on himself. “I'm too embarrassed to tell you…”

Burt hummed thoughtfully. “Well… does it have to do at all with the fact that you are in love with Kurt, or is this something else entirely?”

Blaine gasped, wondering if he had heard him correctly. “What… I'm… I don't…” he spluttered.

“Oh, buddy. Give me a break. You've been in love with Kurt since you were still kids. You can't fool anyone with those damn heart eyes of yours… well, maybe my son. He tends to be a bit oblivious…”

“Burt, oh my god…” Blaine muttered, mortified. “I am so sorry.”

“Why would you be sorry? I'm glad my son is loved, and as unconditionally as you love him,” Burt replied, and Blaine closed his eyes and could see him perfectly, reclining in his favorite chair in the living room.

“Because I…” Blaine paused, feeling as if he was choking. How do you tell a man that you have slept with his son? How do you admit that you were completely blinded by your own feelings and couldn't stop for one second to think reasonably and realize that this wouldn't be good for Kurt? “I… Isleptwithhim…”

There was a long silence, and Blaine actually checked the phone to make sure the call hadn't been disconnected. But no, Burt was still there, and the longer he didn't say anything, the worse Blaine felt. He had loved this man as if he were his own father since he was seventeen years old, and now… what would Burt think of him?

“You slept with Kurt,” Burt repeated at last, and a part of Blaine had hoped he hadn't understood his useless mumbling. But luck wasn't on his side lately.

Blaine gulped. “Yes, sir. I'm… I'm sorry. It was after Rachel's party. I have no excuse…”

“Blaine,” Burt said, interrupting him before Blaine went on one of his very long apologetic rants. “I know sex complicates things, so I'm guessing you two had a fight or something?”

“Kurt said…” Blaine choked at the memories. God, it had been so awful… “Kurt said I should have stopped us. He… he sounded like I… like I forced him.” There was another pause, and Blaine could already picture Burt calling the police on him. “I swear, Burt. I would never do that to Kurt. I just… in that moment we were so…”

“You can spare me the details,” Burt grunted. “I don't need to know all of it. But I already know one thing, Blaine, and that is that you're incapable of hurting anyone, much less Kurt. You would let all of the cabs in New York City run over you before you let something happen to him.”

“But he said…” Blaine stuttered nervously.

“I will talk to him and get his side of things,” Burt said, and that didn't Blaine feel any better. “But if there's something I know about my son, it's that when he's stressed out and going through a lot… he tends to snap and say hurtful things he doesn't mean. We both know how bad these past few months were for him…”

Blaine couldn't stop the next thing that came out of his mouth. He just blurted it, hurt and miserable. “He called me Mark.”

“What?”

“Kurt. He… he called me Mark when we woke up,” Blaine wiped his tears away and shivered in the cold December air. He should have grabbed his coat before he left the bar. “Maybe he just wanted to pretend I was him. Maybe that's why he did it…”

“I can't tell you why he did it,” Burt replied calmly. “But I wish he didn't have to hurt your feelings for it.”

“I should have known,” Blaine shrugged. “I've been by his side since Mark died. I comforted him every time he was in pain, held him when he cried, made sure he ate and slept… I should have known that being with me like that wasn't what he truly wanted. Why would he want it, anyway, even if he hadn't lost his husband?”

“Blaine Devon Anderson, any guy would be lucky to have you, especially my son,” Burt reprimanded him firmly. “So don't go around talking about yourself as if you had nothing to offer.”

“Burt, I…” Blaine shook his head. “I thought you'd hate me for this…”

“Like I said, I'm going to talk to Kurt and get his version of the story,” Burt said, making Blaine deflate again. “But Blaine… unless you're suddenly a serial killer or a rapist, I can't think of a single reason to hate you. You're practically a Hummel by now…”

Blaine sniffed. “Isn't love supposed to make life worth living? Why has it only made me miserable?”

“I can't answer that, buddy. Life's the way it is. It's cruel that you've been in love with Kurt for so long without having him, just like it's cruel that Kurt, Carole and I lost the ones we loved so early on. Life doesn't come with warnings. It just takes you by surprise, whether you like it or not. You can only decide where you wanna go and how you're going to handle whatever it throws at you…” Burt's voice was soft and paternal, and it almost felt as if he was giving Blaine one of his trademarks pats on the back.

“I just don't know what to do…” Blaine sighed tiredly. He looked around at the streets of New Jersey spreading before him. “I actually… I left New York. That probably makes me a coward, but I felt like I needed to get away. I don't want to hurt him anymore, and I don't think he wants to see me, so…”

“Where are you?” Burt asked, once again sounding worried.

“On tour with the band. We're in Jersey now, and we're going all around the country, apparently…” Blaine explained. Nothing made sense, not even this plan, but it was the only thing he had, and he knew he had to go through with it. “We are going to be away for a few months. I don't know how long. Maybe I won't even go back to New York…”

“Isn't that a little too much?” Burt questioned. “I mean, I know you're hurt now and that you and Kurt possibly need some distance, but… don't let this rule the rest of your life. And just because he's upset now, it doesn't mean he won't come to his senses… he loves you, Blaine…”

“No, he doesn't,” Blaine interrupted determinedly. “He made himself clear about that.”

Burt exhaled slowly, as if he was losing his patience with these boys. “Give it time, Blaine. Go on your tour, have fun, stop by to visit if you come to Ohio… and then go back and fix things with him. A friendship like the one you two have… it can't end like this.”

“It's just… I don't ever want to see him looking at me like he did that morning ever again,” Blaine said brokenly. “I can't take that again, Burt.”

“Don't beat yourself over this. I know the two of you better than anyone else in this world. You two have always been good kids. Everyone makes mistakes, but you would never intentionally hurt the other. So just take some time for yourself, let him heal as much as he needs to heal, and then make amends. Because I know for sure that you two cannot live without each other,” Burt said firmly. “So be smart about it, but don't give up. Deal?”

Blaine nodded slowly. He still didn't know what he was going to do, but he knew Burt was right. “Deal.”

“Good. Now tell me about your show tonight. Did you play that song you wrote that Carole and I like so much?”

There were a lot of things Blaine wasn't sure of, but there was one he would never ever doubt – he never wanted to lose the Hummels.

*

Kurt felt as if he had fallen into a large, black hole, and it didn't matter how much he jumped to try to grip the edges and pull himself out, he was still stuck.

Every morning, he woke up and stared at his ceiling for a very, very long time, trying to find the one reason to get out of bed and start his day. His boutique wasn't enough to motivate him anymore, his designs were uninspired and dull, and the silence that greeted him each night when he finally got back home made it all seem worthless.

Rachel had stopped by numerous times, but she was a busy woman, and Kurt didn't want to add babysitting him to her daily obligations. She began stopping by one or two times a week to make sure his fridge was stocked, and dedicated her free Mondays to him, forcing him to go out to the park and breathe some fresh air.

He was too tired to tell her to stop, so he simply played along and waited as patiently as possible until she was gone.

Kurt had been so used to having Blaine in his life, that he hadn't noticed exactly how much of it his best friend filled until he was gone. His evenings were lonely, his TV marathons weren't as fun as they used to be, and he was always cooking enough for two. He missed the vague sound of Blaine stroking his guitar in the background while Kurt worked on his sketches, and how Blaine always knew, without a single word being uttered, exactly when Kurt needed a hug. He missed feeling Blaine's arms wrapping around him, an instant source of comfort and love.

He missed Blaine.

He knew he had been unfair – the things he had said to Blaine must have left a very deep cut in him. His outburst had melted away hours later, leaving him raw and breathless, not knowing how he had been capable of accusing Blaine of something so horrible. And yet, he couldn't make himself grab the phone and call him, not even to apologize.

Kurt was a coward.

He was scared that the call would make things worse. Blaine had left, so he obviously didn't want anything to do with Kurt. Kurt wanted to apologize, but he wasn't sure what to say about what had happened besides that. He had had sex with his best friend and later called him by his dead husband's name – what could Kurt possibly say to fix this mess? I'm sorry wasn't enough. Not anymore.

Would anything ever be enough? Kurt wished he knew the answer.

*

The one thing that usually kept Kurt up at night was trying to convince himself that he hadn't cheated on Mark.

“Kid…” His father had said during one of the many phone calls they shared those days. “I know you can't see it now, because you're still grieving, but life goes on. One day, you're going to wake up and realize you're ready to start dating again, and there will be a new man in your life… but that doesn't mean you don't love Mark anymore.”

Kurt knew that, logically, his father was right. What he and Blaine had done hadn't changed what he had felt for Mark. Even though he couldn't picture himself with a new man, he knew it was something that would probably be in the cards for him in the future. Burt Hummel had found love after losing the love of his life – it could happen for his son, too.

“You're talking about something far off in the future, Dad,” Kurt retorted, exhausted. “What I did with Blaine…”

“You slipped up. It's okay to be lonely, to look for someone to fill that empty space again, to make you forget for a while about what you lost,” Burt interrupted. He had been so patient with Kurt since they had talked about the night of Rachel's party, and Kurt couldn't be more grateful for him. “Maybe you weren't ready to commit to something bigger. Maybe it was a shock the next morning when the hormones calmed down. But it doesn't mean it was wrong. And it doesn't make Blaine a horrible person…”

“I know,” Kurt muttered miserably.

“If you know, you should probably let him know,” Burt remarked pointedly. “He's been torturing himself over this.”

“I can't talk to him,” Kurt shook his head stubbornly. “Not yet.”

“Kurt,” Burt sighed, and Kurt knew without seeing him that he was removing his cap and rubbing a hand over his head. God, he missed his dad. “Since Mark died you seemed to have been waiting for some kind of sign to let you know it's time to go back to your life, to take control, to stop feeling bad about yourself. I know it's difficult to navigate through life after you lose someone you love, but that sign is not gonna come, kiddo. If you want to move on, you have to do it yourself. You can remember Mark and the good times you had together without turning it into a tear fest every time. It doesn't matter how much you cry and sit home alone wishing for things to be different. He's not coming back.”

Kurt bit back a sob and curled his legs against his chest, pressing the phone against his ear tightly. “Why are you being so cruel?”

“I'm sorry. I don't mean to be. I just want you to be realistic. No one's going to come knocking on your door with an official notice, telling you it's finally okay to feel okay. If you want your life back, go get it,” Burt said, making sure to emphasize every word so it would get through his son's thick head. “You just go out there, do your thing, enjoy your life, walk through the park, go out with your friends, make amends with Blaine, go to work… and the pain will slowly go away, until you can't really feel it anymore, until it's a memory, until you're able to see a picture of the person you loved without crying for an hour about it.”

“But Dad…”

“I didn't raise you to give up, kiddo,” Burt cut him off once again, and Kurt bit his lip. “Since your mom died, I spent every single day trying to make you understand that there is never a reason to give up. There will always be heartaches, Kurt, you'll find them every way, in every stage of life, in every shape and size. But you are the only one who can decide if that one heartache is the one that will take you down once and for all, or make you stronger. And Kurt, you're not the kind of guy who gets taken down, not without a fight…”

Kurt could feel the tears building in his eyes, but his father's words made a small smile appear on his lips. “And we Hummels don't get pushed around, right?”

“You got that right,” Burt said with a low chuckle. “Just don't ever feel bad or guilty about doing something that could potentially make you happy, in any way. It doesn't matter if nothing happens between you and Blaine ever again, or if you end up meeting some new guy down the road, or whatever it is you end up doing… you just have to know that if it makes you happy, it can't be wrong.”

Kurt swallowed with difficulty and nodded, once again wishing he could fall into his father's arms. “Okay, Dad,” he murmured, and it sounded like a promise.

*

Every state seemed to look exactly the same in Blaine's eyes. It didn't matter how diverse they truly were – he wasn't in the mood to marvel at any of the sights. They were a month into their tour, and Blaine wasn't sure what he dreaded most – continuing on the road, or heading home when it was all over.

Nothing particularly interesting had happened. Sometimes they had trouble finding places where they could play, sleeping in the van got old after about two and a half days, and Blaine was growing a spectacularly unkempt beard that didn't match his personality at all, but seemed to fit in with the population in Nashville pretty well. He had seen at least fifteen country musicians in the past two hours who had sported very similar looks.

He stopped by the bar and ordered a beer, happy that he wasn't the designated driver tonight, and leaned against the wooden counter, idly listening to the current band on stage. It was an all-girls band with a kick-ass banjo player, and Blaine was actually hoping to catch her when she stepped down from the stage to ask her for advice. He had always wanted to learn how to play.

His phone vibrated in the back pocket of his jeans, and Blaine rolled his eyes in anticipation. It was probably Cooper again – he had bombarded Blaine with texts all day. His brother was having a bit of a crisis trying to come up with the perfect baby name for his still unborn child, and Blaine had had to talk him out of choosing showbiz-related terms that would have given the poor kid trauma later in life.

But when he looked at the screen, he gaped at the name, because it wasn't his brother's.

It was Kurt.

The text was simple and short, but as soon as Blaine opened it, he felt his heart beat a little faster than it had in the previous weeks.

From: Kurt.

I miss you.

Blaine sipped his beer, staring at the screen, trying not to blink too much, scared he was imagining it. He didn't answer right away – what if the text was meant for someone else? Maybe Kurt would send a follow up text apologizing for the mistake, and then all of Blaine's hopes would be dashed.

After ten minutes and two slow painful songs about lost lovers and missed chances, though, Blaine bit his lip and replied with the only thing he could come up with.

To: Kurt.

I miss you, too.

It wasn't a magic solution, but it was a step in the right direction, and Blaine would take that over never-ending silence any day.

*

Just one little text opened a door that had been closed until then. After that night, there were more texts, sporadic, but enough to keep a little flame of hope in Blaine's heart.

Kurt never said much – he would text things like I hope you're having fun on the tour or break a leg tonight. They weren't long, meaningful conversations, but Kurt was back – hovering somewhere in the background and tentatively seeing when he could push his way back up front.

After a few more days of seeing how things went, Blaine dared to text Kurt a picture. It was of him, standing in front of the Ohio Welcomes You sign on the highway, adding his own little message under it: It's nice to be back home. Wish you were here. The next day, it was a picture of him and Burt at the tire shop. Kurt seemed so pleased to be getting visual updates that Blaine decided to make it a thing. From then on, every time he found something interesting in one of their stops, he sent Kurt a picture.

The conversation was stilted, almost frightened, as if they were careful not to take a step in the wrong direction. Blaine's heart hurt at that – they had never had any reservations around each other, had always been able to speak their minds and trust each other, no questions asked. But at least the silent period was over.

It wasn't until he was sitting in the back of the van somewhere in Chicago, alone in the darkness, that he dared to text the one question that had been pounding in his head since he left.

To: Kurt.

How are you?

Blaine waited for the answer while mindlessly picking at one of the sandwiches Jimmy had picked for everyone at a gas station earlier. It made him think of how much he missed real food, meals cooked by Kurt and eaten peacefully at the little kitchen table, legs brushing underneath with every little shift.

There were so many simple things he had taken for granted…

His phone vibrated a few minutes later, and the reply was a lot shorter than he expected.

From: Kurt.

Okay, you?

He knew Kurt well. Blaine could immediately tell when he was lying or hiding something, a skill that had been invaluable as Kurt's best friend over the years. When Kurt was okay, he would be more detailed in his reply. He would have said he was tired after work, or babbled about a client, or about some random bizarre stranger in the subway. He would elaborate about his day, give Blaine little glimpses into his life, so he would feel like he had been a part of everything right alongside him. But when Kurt wasn't okay, he didn't say much at all.

He shut down. And Blaine knew that very well, because he had witnessed how his friend shut down almost completely in the past six months since Mark's death.

Blaine took a deep breath, and decided to push for more, hoping it wouldn't be the wrong thing to do.

To: Kurt.

You do remember I know you better than anyone, right? There's nothing wrong with admitting you're not okay, Kurt. I would never judge you. Not for this, not for anything else.

Kurt took his time to reply once again. The silence of the van was filled with the sounds of Chicago, traffic and people walking down the street. He briefly wondered where the others were, but realized he didn't care. Not right now. They had time until they had to be on stage, and he wanted some time for himself. For Kurt.

From: Kurt.

I'm… not okay. But I want to be.

Blaine hadn't expected to get Kurt to be honest so easily. He stared at the text for a minute or two, worrying his bottom lip between his teeth and trying to figure out what to do. Before he could reply again, he got another message from Kurt.

From: Kurt.

You didn't answer my question, though. How are you?

Blaine decided to let it slide. Honesty was better than silence, but it also required patience. Kurt would tell him everything he needed to tell him at his own time. He couldn't push him.

To: Kurt.

I'm pretty sure the sandwich I'm eating expired at least a week ago, I'm tired of sleeping in the van, and my beard is itchy.

This time, Kurt's reply was a lot quicker.

From: Kurt.

No one said the life of a touring band was glamorous.

Blaine was beginning to type his response when another text came right after that one.

From: Kurt.

And I've been holding back on commenting on that beard after all the pics you've sent me, but… oh my god, Blaine. Shave that dead cat off your face.

Blaine barked out a laugh, the first genuine one since he had left New York. It felt like it was a healing one.

*

They didn't talk on the phone, and Kurt tried not to think about how much he missed listening to Blaine's voice.

He ached with the longing.

Blaine had been on tour for almost four months now, and Mark had been gone for almost eight. Life began to pick up a different pace, and Kurt was trying to adjust.

It was an emptier life. Rachel was around, his father called constantly, and Annie even dragged him out for drinks once or twice, but the fundamental pieces of his existence were gone. He knew one of them was going to be missing forever, but he hoped the Blaine-shaped one would fall back into place at some point.

He still hadn't apologized. It felt stupid to do it over the phone. Blaine didn't bring up the incident – could Kurt really call it an incident, looking back on it? When the memories of his night with Blaine stopped making his skin crawl with self-loathing and sent shivers down his spine, making him blush instead? – and Kurt felt like he needed to look Blaine in the eyes and tell him how sorry he was, get on his knees if necessary, beg. What he had said had been cruel and uncalled for, and he needed Blaine to know how much he regretted it.

But Blaine hadn't said a single word about when the tour would be over, or even if he would return to New York, and Kurt was starting to panic.

He panicked because he needed his best friend, because he didn't know who to turn to when he wasn't around, because he missed Blaine's smiling face, and the way he would always know when he needed a hug without Kurt needing to tell him. He panicked because he didn't know if Blaine was on this tour because he truly wanted to be or because Kurt had pushed him away. He panicked because he didn't want Blaine to think he loved him any less because of what had happened.

He panicked because, in fact, he was starting to believe he actually loved him more.

Kurt didn't know when the realization hit. It might have been with one of the random pictures – that beard really did look awful on him, but it made him even more adorable, which shouldn't have been possible – or with one of the many memories he had of him. It might have been the absence, the way Kurt felt raw with it, like he was missing a vital part of himself. It might have been something that had lied under the surface for many, many years, finally coming back up to choke him and free him at the same time.

Kurt was falling in love with Blaine – or maybe he had never stopped being in love with him at all.

When his feelings pushed to the front, flashing in neon lights as if trying to get his attention, Kurt expected the guilt to set heavily on his stomach. He waited for the same self-loathing he had become familiar with. But neither came. Yes, he still had a hard time wrapping his head around the fact that looking at another attractive man didn't mean he was cheating on Mark or failing him in any way, but it didn't seem to push down on him, like a dead weight trying to break him.

It felt a bit more like relief.

Kurt wasn't sure about what he wanted to do with those feelings – he didn't even know if he would do something about them at all. But fighting them, disregarding them as sick and wrong… no. If Blaine was the source of those feelings, then there could never be anything sick or wrong about them. Not when Blaine was sheer joy, comfort and kindness.

After many conversations with his dad, drawing from Burt's own experiences, he had finally begun to understand he was allowed to put an end to his misery and find a brighter future. He wasn't a hundred percent there yet, but he was dealing with it, instead of hiding under the covers in his bed and telling himself he was a horrible person.

One night, Kurt had a dream about Mark. He saw his smile and felt the warmth of his embrace. They stayed tangled in each other for a very, very long time. It was comforting and familiar. Mark swayed him back and forth slowly, as if he wanted to dance but didn't dare disturb Kurt. Then he dropped a kiss on top of Kurt's head and pulled away softly, his stunning eyes fixing on Kurt for a moment. Kurt felt breathless, and he couldn't move, although he didn't feel the need to. In other dreams, he had struggled to pull Mark towards him, as if he could save him, keep him. But this time, Kurt simply watched him, feeling calm, and eventually Mark gave him one last smile and walked away.

When Kurt woke up in the morning, it was the first time in a very long time that he didn't start the day off wiping desperate tears from his face, and the pain seemed to have melted into a manageable ache rooted deep inside his chest.

For the first time since Mark's death, Kurt had the absolute certainty that he would be okay.

*