The rain seems to slip down the window in slow motion. Somehow, even that is reminding me of him. The strolls down the rain-soaked streets of our hometown, the long evening showers together, that one night last break when the power went out during a storm. I miss him so much it feels like a literal weight on my chest.

I glance back at the textbook propped up on my knees. I’ve been trying to read this same page for over an hour now, but to no avail. I always space out halfway though, this time to stare out the window apparently. I finally give up and toss the book across the room where it lands softly on top of the clothes in my laundry basket. I stretch out on the bed and look at the ceiling forlornly.

I wonder if he’s thinking about me too...

~

I fling open the door, huffing in frustration when it hits hard on the wall, leaving a small dent. I throw my bag across the room to the couch and run up the stairs of my empty house to my bed room, not giving a damn about my stuff or the wall at the moment.

I rip off my bow tie and run my fingers through my unruly curls. I didn’t gel my hair this morning. It just hadn’t felt worth my time today.

I’m getting so sick of it. I’m sick of the ignorant assholes I have to deal with on a daily basis. I’m sick of being in this stupid town where nothing ever happens. I’m sick of having to live without him...

My sweater and dress shirt join my bow tie on the floor and my pants are quickly traded for sweats. I hurriedly tape up my hands, turning to the punching bag that hangs in the corner of my room.

I can’t stop myself once I start. I start pounding on it with every ounce of fury I have. A punch for every person I wanted to hit in real life, for all the mountains of homework filling my backpack, for every slushie-coated sweater I’ve had to throw into the trash.

I start screaming at some point. Every pound of my fist against the bag and every tear running over my cheeks is now for every mile keeping me from home. From Kurt. Sweat pours down my forehead and chest, but I don’t care. I don’t care about my bleeding knuckles. All I know is I can’t stand it anymore. I can’t stand it without him.

~

I can’t take it anymore. I lean over the side of my mattress and pull my laptop from under the bed. The picture of Blaine and I on my desktop background sends a sad feeling of longing through my heart. I need to see him.

I open up Skype, my heart skipping a little when I see he is online like I hoped. I press the video call button and wait. He answers a minute later.

My breath hitches at the sight before me.

~

The familiar sound of Skype call cuts through my thoughts from the computer across the room. I consider ignoring it, but part of me hopes it’s him. I move over to my computer and move the mouse to wake up the screen to see who’s calling.

Kurt Hummel calling...

I hit the answer button before I even think to worry about how I look right now.

~

“Blaine, you look horrible!” I shout, shocked at the image of the broken boy before me. He’s obviously been boxing recently. His skin is glistening from sweat and he’s not even wearing a shirt. His eyes are bright red, like they are after he’s been crying...

He smiles sadly and pushes his sweaty hair off his forehead. “I’m fine, sweetheart,” he says reassuringly. “How are you?” His voice is rough, but I pretend I don’t notice for the moment.

“I’ve been better,” I reply. I smile and add “Better now that I’m seeing you.”

“I wish I could be there with you, baby,” he says. He looks so unbelievably lonely. My heart aches seeing him so shattered. I just want to pull him into my arms and stoke his hair. Tell him he’s not alone and we’ll never have to be apart again. I have to settle with stroking his face with my fingertip through the computer screen.

“I wish that too, Blaine,” I sigh.

“57 days, 6 hours, and 32 minutes,” he states.

“What?” I ask, cocking my head in confusion.

“That’s how long it’s been since I last saw you.” He looks me over through the screen. “I mean since I really saw you.”

I sigh again. “Blaine, honey, you’re going to drive yourself crazy with that attitude.” He looks at me confusedly. “Don’t worry about how long it’s been. Do you know how long until we see each other again?” He looks down at his lap, a movement I take to mean that he doesn’t know. “14 days, 7 hours, and 28 minutes.” His head perks up and his eyes suddenly shine with hope. He almost smiles.

“That soon?” I nod, laughing at how he didn’t even seem to notice it was that close to spring break. “14 days until I can hold you again... It still seems too long.”

“Time will fly by, you’ll see,” I assure him. I look him over again, seeing a tiny ray of hope coming from him now. The last string has not been broken. “I love you so much.”

“I love you, too, Kurt.” He lifts three fingers to his lips and holds them out to me. I copy his movements, smiling. We’ve been doing this ever since we read The Hunger Games together last summer before I left for New York.

I gasp when I notice his hand.

~

“Blaine, your hand!” Kurt gasps, worry apparent on his face. “What have you done to yourself?”

I quickly hide my hand under the table again, silently reprimanding myself for not being more careful so he wouldn’t see. I don’t want him to worry. I don’t say anything, hanging my head and staring down at my palms resting upward on my lap. I hear Kurt sigh again through the computer. He’s been sighing too frequently lately, and I feel bad that now he’s sighing because of me.

“You should go take care of those,” he says. I nod and get up from the desk, disappearing from the webcams view as I head into the bathroom.

I hiss as I slowly unroll the tape from around my bloody knuckles. I quickly wash my hands and bandage them, not wanting Kurt to have to wait long. I take an extra moment to wipe the sweat off my face and throw on an old t-shirt before heading back to my desk and the beautiful boy waiting patiently for me on the screen.

It’s only 2 weeks more. I can do this.