After his second visit to Cooper's, Kurt was discouraged and worried. He had to accept that the quick trip to Los Angeles to get his divorce papers signed wouldn't be so quick, after all. Getting Blaine to cooperate would require patience and a bit of time, it seemed, things Kurt didn't have much of at the moment.

And still, he couldn't help but be worried about Blaine. After what Cooper had told him (and even though it hadn't been the whole story, it had been enough to understand that things were bad), he couldn't stop thinking about him. Was there anything he could do to help him? Would Blaine even accept his help? What had happened to him? How had he gotten so lost, when it seemed he had such a bright future ahead of him in high school? Kurt could have believed this from pretty much all of his friends and classmates, but not Blaine. Never Blaine. Blaine had always had as much drive and ambition as Rachel, and Kurt had been convinced that it was just a matter of time before Blaine's name was in lights in some theatre. Knowing he not only hadn't made it, but had also lost everything, given up and ended like this… it was too much. It hurt Kurt, even though he hadn't seen his ex-boyfriend in so long, even when things hadn't ended very well between them.

Kurt looked down at the planner he had opened on his lap. He really was running short on time. There was still so much to do for the wedding, and he needed to be back in New York as soon as possible. His email inbox was filled to bursting with messages from his co-workers but he couldn't bring himself to read any of them now. His head was elsewhere, and it would only result in bad decisions. He couldn't afford to lose his job, on top of everything else. It was the only thing in his life that seemed stable right now, the only thing he could really rely on.

Kurt sighed tiredly and dialed his fiancé's number.

It took a moment for Alex to pick up, so long in fact, that Kurt had been about to hang up and try again later. But then his fiancé's happy voice with his thick accent echoed from the other end, and Kurt was relieved. This was familiar, this was good, and exactly what he needed.

“Mon ange… I was just thinking about you,” he said, and Kurt couldn't hold back his smile.

“Hi, honey. How are you? Are you busy?” Kurt looked down at his watch and quickly calculated the time in New York.

“I'm at a shoot, but we're taking a break,” Alex replied, before taking a sip of water. “What about you? Are you at the airport already? What time does your flight get here?”

Kurt braced himself before he spoke again. God, this was going to suck. “I… no, honey. I'm in my hotel room. I'm not coming back today.”

“Why not? You couldn't get a flight?” Alex asked, but didn't give Kurt enough time to reply. “Oh no… you haven't found him, have you? You couldn't get in touch with him or his brother?”

“It's not that,” Kurt said, and gosh, he almost wished it was that. “The address I had for Cooper was the right one and he gave me Blaine's address. I… I found him, but…” Why was this so difficult? It wasn't his fault. “Blaine hasn't signed the papers yet, honey.”

The moment of silence that followed seemed heavy, charged with something Kurt couldn't even identify.

“What do you mean he hasn't signed the papers?” Alex exclaimed, clearly displeased.

“I'm sorry, Alex. It's just… a little harder than I thought it would be,” Kurt explained, desperately. “I need a few more days…”

“A few more days? What for? He needs to sign those papers, Kurt. Why is he refusing anyway? He doesn't want to give up being married to you? Is that what he's doing?”

It was never easy arguing with Alex, especially when he was like this, and Kurt just didn't have the patience for it. “He hasn't signed them because he doesn't know about them yet. I didn't even have the chance to explain why I'm here. I saw him for less than two minutes. There wasn't time to bring the papers up…”

“You've been there for like, three days! What have you been doing? Sightseeing?” Alexandre's voice got louder and though Kurt understood why his fiancé was so upset, he wasn't in the mood to be yelled at.

“Look, Alex, I'm doing my best here, but… Blaine isn't okay,” Kurt continued, with the last vestiges of tolerance he had left. “He's not the same boy I once knew, and it's difficult getting to him. He's… troubled, and this is a very delicate situation. It's clear that he doesn't want to see me, and he's avoiding me.”

“Kurt, mon ange,” Alex murmured, and Kurt knew he was struggling just as much as him to keep his composure. “I understand. I know you want to be a good person and that you don't want to do this the hard way… but we are getting married in just a bit over a month, Kurt, and there's still so much to do. We don't have time for this. We don't have time for him.”

“Alex…”

“If he's troubled,” Alex continued, without even acknowledging Kurt's interjection, “then let his brother deal with it. You just force him to sign those damn divorce papers and come home.”

Telling Alexandre that Cooper wouldn't deal with Blaine either was pointless. No one cared about Blaine anymore, at least not enough to step up and do something. Maybe Cooper had tried, maybe it was true that he had to put his family first… but wasn't Blaine just as much a part of his family as his daughters were?

Kurt wasn't justifying what Blaine had done, but… why was nobody helping him?

Someone called Alex back to work, and he heard his fiancé huffing on the other end. “Kurt, I…”

“I know,” Kurt interrupted. He needed to hang up. His head was about to explode. “I'm doing my best, Alex. You have to believe me. I'll be back as soon as I can.”

After saying their goodbyes, Kurt put his phone down and stared at his planner again.

Everything suddenly felt a million times more difficult than it had before.

*

Kurt stood at Blaine's door once more. He had to take a deep breath before knocking – now he knew what he would find on the other side. Yes, he wanted Blaine to sign the divorce papers, but he also wanted to talk to him, to learn how things had gotten so out of hand… it didn't even need to be a very long conversation. It didn't mean he would have to stay in California for many more days. He just wanted to know what had happened to him. He wanted Blaine to fill in the blanks left by Cooper's version of the story.

Kurt knocked and stood very straight, head raised and body tight. He felt as if he was wearing armor, but despite how curious and, yes, concerned he was about Blaine, he wouldn't let him see him sweat. After all, Blaine had broken his heart (it didn't matter that they had been practically kids – age was just a number, but a broken heart was a broken heart), and Kurt wanted to look, to be strong in front of him. He wanted to show him he had been able to get back on his feet and find happiness, even when he had felt like Blaine had torn his life to pieces back then.

However, the door remained closed. Kurt knocked a few more times, but no one opened, or even acknowledged his presence. Maybe Blaine wasn't home?

“Blaine?” He called anyway, stepping closer to the door. “Blaine, it's Kurt. If you're there, open up. We need to talk.”

He tried the doorknob, but the door was locked. He sighed in frustration and pounded on the door a little harder.

“Blaine?” He raised his voice a little louder. It was midday, but perhaps Blaine was sleeping… nothing could surprise Kurt any more, when it came to his ex-boyfriend. Again, there was no response. Kurt rested his forehead on the worn wood and closed his eyes. Why was this so difficult?

He opened his messenger bag and grabbed his note pad and a pen. He quickly scribbled a note on it:

Blaine, please call me as soon as you see this. I'm serious. We need to talk. Please, it's important.

Kurt.

He added his phone number again under his name, for good measure, and then slipped the note under the door.

Kurt hated this, feeling like he had no power over the situation. Everything – Kurt's entire future – was in Blaine's hands. Once upon a time, nothing would have made him feel safer. Now, it only filled him with dread.

He turned around and walked down the hallway, down the stairs and out of the building. He made sure his phone was charged and not set to silent as he left. This was a call he couldn't afford to miss.

Half an hour later, Kurt found himself in a coffee shop in downtown Los Angeles, killing time. He had brought his laptop with him, so he forced himself to focus on work for a little bit, and read through all of his emails, replying to the desperate cries for help from his co-workers. He read through a few files that his secretary had sent him and worked on some of the content for the website, all while checking his cell phone periodically. Still nothing. Blaine didn't call.

Once he was done with work, and through his second cup of coffee, he switched to his wedding plans. He grabbed his planner and went through it for the millionth time. He still needed to pick the china and was completely undecided regarding the center pieces. Every little detail to take care of gave him a headache. Wasn't this supposed to be a pleasant part of the process, too? Why did planning his wedding feel more like a duty, a task and a burden he needed to get over with? He pressed his fingers to his temples and massaged lightly. He wanted everything to be beautiful, but he wasn't even sure he'd be able to walk down the aisle and actually get married. Not if Blaine didn't sign those damn papers.

He thought back to his father's wedding. He had been so excited to be in charge of it when he was back in high school – he had appreciated the distraction from school and the constant bullying he faced every day, but he had never enjoyed anything as much as he had enjoyed choosing the colors, his dad's suit or even choreographing the dance for the church. He had enjoyed it so much that he had even considered becoming a wedding planner instead of pursuing Broadway or fashion. This was his wedding, why was it so hard to look at how everything was coming together and just smile and be happy?

Maybe because the path down the aisle was covered in rocks and obstacles he hadn't prevented.

*

Of course, Blaine never called back. Kurt waited and waited, drinking coffee and trying to focus on everything he could get done for the wedding from afar, blue eyes slipping towards the silent phone next to him every now and then, and had to resist the urge to punch something. Breaking his hand with the coffee shop's wall was the last thing he needed right now.

He packed his things hastily and left, immediately flagging down a cab and giving Blaine's address to the driver. The man looked like he wanted to start some friendly conversation to pass the time while he drove through Los Angeles' busy streets, but he must have seen Kurt's murderous look on the rear view mirror, because he clamped his mouth shut and simply drove.

It was getting darker, and by the time the cab stopped in front of Blaine's building, the sun had gone down in the horizon. Kurt grabbed his wallet and fished for some money, and when he looked up to thank the driver, he saw Blaine walking out of the building and starting to head down the street.

Kurt gripped his messenger bag and fled from the car, practically tripping on his own feet in his haste to reach Blaine. He hadn't gotten very far, hadn't even reached the corner yet, but Kurt didn't want to risk missing him. He went a little faster, eyes glued to the back of Blaine's head of messy curls.

“Blaine!” He called.

Blaine looked over his shoulder. His eyes were dark and fixed on Kurt for just a second, before rolling them, clearly irritated. “What do you want? I'm busy.”

Kurt stopped in front of him, thankful for his gym membership and all his cardio classes, because his breath hadn't even hitched in his hurry. “I went to your apartment today…”

“Yup, I know. I saw the note,” Blaine said and then turned on his heels and continued walking as if Kurt hadn't even spoken.

“Wait!” Kurt huffed, annoyed. “I meant what I said. I really need to talk to you, Blaine. Can we go back to your apartment?”

“No,” Blaine replied, looking ahead and pushing his way through a group of teenagers gathered together in the corner. Kurt apologized and pushed past them too, afraid he might lose Blaine if he wasn't quick enough.

“Blaine…” His voice had a warning, now. He was done wasting his time.

“Look, I'm going somewhere. I can't talk now,” Blaine explained vaguely, sounding just as annoyed.

“It won't take long. An hour, at most. It can take five minutes, if you just shut up and listen,” Kurt insisted, taking a few strides until he could put himself in front of Blaine, effectively blocking him. “Please. I wouldn't bother you if it wasn't important.”

Blaine didn't look at him. His eyes – where was that beautiful caramel shade Kurt had loved so much when they were younger? They looked so dark and dull… – were set on a point over his shoulder. His lips were curled, showing how displeased he was with this. Kurt had time to take a good look at him – at the worn dark denim jacket and the snug black V-neck underneath; at the tight jeans with a rip just above his left knee and the beat-up Converse shoes. Kurt frowned, wondering where all the bowties, the hair gel and the cute cardigans were. Kurt had changed his own style several times over the years, but Blaine… these clothes weren't him.

Or, at least, they had nothing to do with the boy Kurt remembered. Maybe these clothes reflected who Blaine was now.

Blaine grunted. “Fine. You can come along, if you want.”

He didn't wait for Kurt to respond. He simply began walking again, barrelling across the intersection, in spite of the red hand instructing them to wait. Kurt followed, raising his hands in apology at the driver who blasted his horn at him impatiently.

“Can't you slow down?” He asked, stepping beside him at last, and glaring at him.

Blaine didn't even have the decency to look back and check if he was okay. He ignored him and Kurt realized it would be absolutely pointless to try to start a conversation before they arrived wherever they were going.

Fortunately for Kurt, the place Blaine was heading to wasn't very far. After turning another corner, Blaine stepped inside the door to a bar. Kurt frowned before following – it was the kind of place where the main character in a movie always got into trouble and ended up with a broken nose. It was small, dark and seedy-looking. There were a few sad-looking business men practically lying over the bar, two huge men who looked like they belonged in a gang, a few women laughing in a corner, and just a handful of wasted-looking people were dancing listlessly near a jukebox.

“I… can't we go somewhere else?” Kurt asked hesitantly.

“Nope,” Blaine replied, already taking a stool at the bar. “I like it here.”

Kurt thought of their night at Scandals when they were teenagers. That tacky little hole in the outskirts of Lima seemed almost glamorous now, in comparison. He still held his head high and took the stool next to Blaine's, as the bartender handed Blaine a beer and he dropped a few dollar bills onto the counter. Kurt shook his head when the man looked at him, as if waiting for him to order. Kurt didn't dare drink anything here – it looked less than hygienic.

“When you said you were busy, I assumed you had something actually important to do, instead of coming to this… this place,” Kurt muttered. He placed a hand on the bar and retrieved it immediately – the wooden surface was sticky and disgusting.

“Stop being such a fucking snob and have a drink,” Blaine said angrily. He leaned over the bar and called for the barman. “Hey, Johnnie, get him a beer, would ya?”

“No, no! No beer for me, thank you!” Kurt said, but the man ignored him and placed a bottle in front of him. Kurt tried to protest, but it was useless. “I… okay.”

“Where did you find this one, Anderson?” Johnnie asked with a laugh, taking a good look at Kurt's clothes and stiff posture.

“High school sweetheart,” Blaine sneered, hunched over his bottle. The bartender laughed again, before walking away to get to another customer.

“I don't see what's so funny,” Kurt huffed, not sure if he should feel insulted or not.

Blaine took a long swig out of his beer, without saying anything, and finally looked at him, just as Kurt wrapped his hand around his own bottle, thinking just a little sip wouldn't hurt, just so he wouldn't look like a snob, as Blaine had so kindly put it. He could feel Blaine's eyes on him as he raised the bottle to his lips and as the taste flooded his mouth, he remembered why he usually preferred wine.

“You're engaged?”

The question was so sudden, it startled Kurt. He glanced at Blaine and saw his gaze was fixed on the hand he was using to hold the bottle, the one with his engagement ring. He didn't notice how strained Blaine's voice sounded; he simply sighed in relief at having an opportunity to broach the topic so soon.

“Yes,” Kurt nodded, as a little smile slipped onto his lips. Blaine's eyes went back to his own drink.  “The wedding's next month. His name is Alex, and I met him through work. We've been together for a few years. He's really great.” He cleared his throat, getting ready. “I… that's the reason I'm here, actually. You probably won't believe it – I know I had trouble believing it when I found out, but when we went to get our marriage license last week, I found out something pretty crazy.”

Blaine spun his stool, now facing the group of people dancing and the ones sitting at the tables by the opposite wall.

Kurt didn't let Blaine's silence discourage him. “Blaine, I… I don't know how it happened, not for sure, at least, but I do have a pretty good guess, but I… uhm. Well, we're married. You and I.”

Blaine didn't even move. His dark eyes were sweeping through the crowd that had been thickening slightly since they had arrived.

Kurt bit his lip. “I guess it happened in Vegas, when we were both there for Mike's bachelor's party? I really can't remember much from that weekend, but it's the only occasion we've been together in a decade, and the dates seem to match, so…”

God, he needed him to say something. Why did he have to be so difficult?

Kurt rummaged in his messenger bag, ready to get Blaine to sign those papers so they could go their separate ways. It was obvious that Blaine wasn't in the mood for conversation. He couldn't keep trying to get through to a man who clearly didn't want anything to do with him – he needed to go back to New York.

“I know this is sudden and you probably have no idea what the hell I'm talking about, but I need you to sign these…” Kurt stopped talking, papers halfway out of his bag, and looked at Blaine in confusion as he stood and walked away from the bar, straight towards the group of people dancing by the jukebox. “Blaine?” He called, but was ignored again.

He watched in shock as Blaine leaned close to a man with dark hair and tanned skin who was sitting at a table. The man's eyes became hungry as Blaine whispered in his ear, and whatever he was saying seemed to have the desired effect, because the stranger stood and wrapped his arm around Blaine's waist. Blaine guided him to where the others were dancing and pulled him closer, bodies glued together as they swayed with the music, slow and sensual, staring at each other in a way that could only be described as dirty. Kurt could see the man burying his fingers in Blaine's curls while Blaine's hands slid down to get a handful of his ass. The stranger pressed his lips to Blaine's, and it was easy to see, even from a distance, how Blaine parted his lips and swallowed the man's tongue, greedily pulling it into his mouth.

Kurt turned away and drank a long swig of his beer. What the hell was Blaine doing? Had he even listened to what Kurt had just told him? He hadn't expected Blaine to start crying and screaming when he found out they were married, but he hadn't expected total indifference either. This was a big deal and they had to do something about it. Blaine couldn't just pretend it wasn't happening – maybe he didn't give a damn, but Kurt did. Kurt wanted to get married, and didn't have time to wait around for Blaine to get his head out of his ass.

Setting the beer down abruptly on the bar, Kurt glanced back at the dance floor. They were making out now, hot and heavy, and one of Blaine's thighs was between the man's legs. They were grinding against each other, not caring that they were in a very public place, and Kurt could swear he heard them moan over the loud music playing in the bar.

And he was just fed up with all of this.

Kurt stood and marched towards Blaine with a determined, furious look on his face. God, he hated this new Blaine. Whoever he had become, it made Kurt ache for the sweet, loving boy he had once fallen so desperately in love with. It was such a tragic loss, if this was what his Blaine had grown into. He wished he could just walk away and forget he had even seen him like this, but he knew he couldn't. He couldn't go back to Alex without getting divorced first. He was stuck here until Blaine Anderson decided to listen, and oh, Kurt would make him listen.

He grabbed Blaine's arm and tugged, hard, pulling him apart from the dark, handsome stranger. He stood between them and shot the stranger a murderous look. “Go. Away.”

He must have looked particularly dangerous, because the man raised his hands as if in apology and immediately turned and got lost amongst all the other sweaty bodies moving together. Kurt turned to Blaine, then, ready to smack some sense into that asshole.

“Hey!” Blaine exclaimed, annoyed. “I was gonna fuck that!”

This wasn't his Blaine. His Blaine was lost, buried, gone forever. But Kurt didn't have time to feel sad for that wonderful boy he had loved so passionately, because he was pissed and so done with this.

Once again, he grabbed Blaine's arm and hauled him through the crowd towards the door, ignoring his protests. He hadn't realized how stuffy the air was inside the bar, until he pushed the door open and exited, feeling the breeze on his face.

He pushed Blaine against the wall, not hard enough to bruise, but hard enough to make him pay attention and stepped closer to him, pressing a hand against his chest to keep him there. Kurt Hummel could be the most patient of men, but he had reached his limit. “You're going to listen to me whether you want it or not, Blaine! You're going to listen to me and then you can go back inside and fuck that floozy, or whoever else you want! But first I want you to stop being an idiot for five minutes, grab a goddamn pen and sign the goddamn divorce papers so I can go back to New York and marry my fiancé!”

Blaine's eyes were boiling with emotion, like a tornado fighting its way to the surface. He slapped Kurt's hand away from him and then closed his fingers around Kurt's wrist, tightening his grip there and backing him against the wall instead, crowding close and almost pressing their foreheads together. Kurt could feel his breath against his skin. “Do not fucking touch me, Hummel, if you know what's good for you.”

Those words made Kurt freeze – was that a threat? Was Blaine threatening him? In the years they had known each other, Blaine had provoked an almost endless array of feelings in him, from happiness to sadness, from ecstasy to rage. But he had never, ever been frightened of Blaine, not like he was now. His breath hitched in his throat, and he wondered if he had pushed far enough that Blaine would actually hurt him. He hated that he thought Blaine was capable of hurting him.

Blaine was breathing heavily. His eyes were wide and his whole body was shaking, like he was trying really hard to control himself and just couldn't find the strength to do it. Kurt's face must have been priceless – he could feel the color draining from his cheeks, and he was sure he was pale as ghost, completely shocked and horrified.

Blaine let go of him abruptly and took a step back. He lowered his head for a moment, and then simply turned and walked away quickly, in the direction of his apartment. A couple walking by actually moved out of his way, willed away with the force of his anger, and stared at him until he got lost around the corner.

Kurt realized he was shaking uncontrollably, unable to stop. He bit back a sob – him, why him, he was the one who was never supposed to hurt me, what happened to him, how could he do this, what would he have done if I pushed farther, why am I so stupid – and then slipped down the wall and onto the dirty concrete floor, because his legs couldn't hold him up anymore.

He clutched his messenger bag to his chest and waited for the unrelenting panic to fade away.

*

Why did he have to get so close? I can't deal with that, I can't control myself when he's so close to me…

I just wanted to… he was so close. One kiss, just one kiss…

I haven't felt his lips on mine in so long…

God, it hurts. It hurts, so much. It'll never stop hurting.

He's engaged. Of course he's engaged.

Stupid, stupid, stupid. You're just so stupid.

You just keep fucking everything up, Blaine. You're worthless, you're nothing, and now he hates you even more than he already did…

Why, goddamn it, why did he have to get so close?

Blaine Anderson slammed the door to his apartment closed and didn't bother to turn on a lamp. He was used to the darkness surrounding him, anyway.

*