Sugar Baby

Twenty

An atmosphere of dark mutters and cold glares settled over the house, and not one moment went by without a whispered insult or a sharp look or a heavy, grumbling sigh. Blaine could feel the animosity rolling off his friends in waves, and not one person could look at him with anything less than icy judgement in their eyes. Yelling could be heard from the kitchen any time Santana or Puck stepped over the threshold, and Blaine found a sour-faced Sebastian in the hall one afternoon with a bag of ice clutched to his scarlet cheek and swelling, bruising eye, and Santana spent the day smirking smugly and flexing her fingers, eyes narrowing every time she saw Blaine.

"You are such an inconsiderate asshole!" Brittany screamed at him, frightening in how sweet and cheerful she usually was, eyes flashing and hair flying, an absolute hurricane of fury. "How could you sleep with that slimy little meerkat when Kurt is crazy about you and he was right there on the other side of the wall and if you were that horny you could've just woken him up?! You've ruined it, you've wrecked everything we've worked so hard to make you see and you've broken his heart! He'll never take you back, and you don't deserve it!" She stormed away, tossing her head haughtily, and left Blaine standing speechless, heart squeezed in a vice and the lump of tears building in the back of his throat.

He climbed the stairs, ducking around the corner to avoid a belligerent Puck storming down the corridor, fingering the yellowing bruise beneath his jaw, and slid Kurt's door open to find him in the middle of packing, Pavarotti sitting on his shoulder, chirping and fluttering his wings to stay balanced. Blaine tried not to let it hurt him when he saw the lilies he'd given Kurt for his birthday, still fresh and perfectly white, shoved into the garbage can, and cleared his throat to announce his presence, softly saying, "Please don't leave."

Kurt turned to face him, eyes damp with tears, and Blaine watched a single droplet slide down his cheek, eyes on the glistening trail it left behind, and folded his arms over his chest, a blotchy flush of anger rising in his cheeks. "How can I stay, when I know you were getting fucked by someone else right on the other side of that wall?!" Kurt spat harshly. "I was right here the whole time, crazy about you, and instead of talking to me you just go to someone who doesn't give a crap about any part of you except your ass and getting his dick in it as fast as possible! I have to leave and try and get over you."

"I never meant for it to be this way," Blaine whispered, pleading silently for Kurt to stop and listen, to understand what he couldn't put into words, couldn't even understand within himself. "It was supposed to be different. We were supposed to be happy, the two of us and our son. I wanted a family, Kurt, you have to believe me. I'm not just leaving you for lust, it's more than that, you have to understand it, no matter how hurt you are."

"Do you know why it hurts so much?!" Kurt screamed, slamming the lid of a suitcase down so hard the floor shook with the crash, whirling around, the tears streaming down his scarlet-stained cheeks, both arms wrapped around his belly. "It's because I'm in love with you! I've wanted to be with you since Christmas, and just when I think you're ready to commit and we're going to be happy and have a family, you run off and sleep with him! I can't stay and watch you go back to him. It hurts too much to keep wasting my time trying to turn you into someone who wants to commit to me and our baby."

Blaine's heart stopped, beating an out-of-time tempo, head spinning and the world tipping sideways as he stared at Kurt, quivering with rage, face streaked with tears and hands cupped over his stomach, shielding the unmarred innocence of their baby from Blaine. Kurt was in love with him. For six months, Kurt had stood by in absolute silence, never telling him what was really in his head and in his heart. They could've avoided so much, they could be happy and laughing and kissing in the kitchen instead of equally broken hearts scattered like ash on the wind, yelling and crying and shouldering suitcases to walk out of lives forever. "Please don't leave," he whispered again, unable to find the words to truly convey everything he felt. "You mean so much to me, both of you."

Long, slender, familiar fingers curled into the soft cashmere of the jumper clinging closely to Kurt's swollen belly as he wrapped his hand closer around the bump that seemed to grow every day, tears shining on his eyelashes as he tilted his head down to look at the carpet, swallowing thickly. "I can't stay just because I mean something," he said quietly, looking up at Blaine with resignation in his eyes. "Clearly, I don't mean enough. I'll be staying with Quinn for a while, then I'm back to Ohio to stay with a friend until I can find a place to stay by myself and raise my little boy. I'll contact you when he's born, but other than that, this is it for us."

Shaking his head slowly, desperately, blinking back tears prickling behind his eyes, Blaine stepped close, gripping Kurt's waist with strong hands, kissing him hard, trying to pour out everything spinning through his head and his heart and his soul into the touch. But Kurt's lips remaining still and his body unresponsive, leaning away from Blaine until he gave up, a broken sob escaping his lips as he let Kurt go and the teenager stepped away, fear and misery and anger mingled in his eyes. "A kiss won't make me stay," he whispered, eyes cast down, turning back to his packing, locking the suitcases and lifting one into each hand. "I just can't stop thinking about how he kissed you, how he held you and made love to you when I was ten feet away. There was a time when I told myself I'd never say goodbye to you. But I can't get past this, Blaine. This is it. I'm not coming back now."

There was nothing he could do. He knew it, even as he followed Kurt down the stairs, heart shattering a little more with every step, and watched Quinn and Puck take hold of a suitcase each, her slipping an arm around him and him holding the door open. It was obvious when he pressed his hand longingly against the cool glass of the living room window, watching Kurt climb into the car, leaning his head against the window to see him closer. Quinn climbed into the front, exchanged a few words with Puck, and then they were driving away, Kurt growing further and further away.

Blaine stumbled back up the stairs, to the open door of Kurt's room, and he collapsed in the doorway, barely able to control his grief. The tears streamed down his face as he crawled across the room and sank into the mattress, the scent of Kurt lingering on the sheets and comforter and pillows, sweet and delicious and familiar, and he pressed his face deep into the pillows and cried, fingers curling into the embroidered edges of the comforter as he tried to feel Kurt's back pressed against his chest, their hands entwined loosely together, bare skin against bare skin, warm and safe and sated.

He'd ruined everything. Kurt's heart was broken, and it would never be his. He'd never feel Kurt curled up against him in the light of the moon again, never kiss him to awareness in the pale grey dawn light, never slide careful hands down his sides to link over his bump. He wouldn't sit at Kurt's bedside as their son was born, wouldn't hold a tiny newborn baby in his arms, wouldn't have that beautiful experience of his child wrapping their hands trustingly around his thumb for the first time. Everything he could've had was gone, and the most horrible part was that it was entirely his fault, and he had no idea of how to fix it.

It took a long time for him to pull himself together enough to want to go downstairs, where only Sam and Jeff were still present, both looking at him from eyes judging him harshly, with only a slight sympathy for his swollen eyes and tear-streaked cheeks. He couldn't eat the steaks Sam had prepared, pushing his plate aside and sipping at his water, the image of Kurt's scarlet-stained, tear-stained face dancing before his eyes, pain flaring up periodically in his chest.

He was madly in love. The first time in his life he'd ever felt something so intense for anyone else, and he'd ruined it with his own stupid decisions, by sleeping with someone else instead of just waking Kurt up to talk to him and try to tell him, as he should've done. And now he'd broken Kurt's heart, he'd destroyed the beautiful relationship starting to blossom between them, and he'd lost everything. Now Kurt would be gone from the state in a few days, and probably find someone else who would treat him far better than Blaine ever had, and he wouldn't contact Blaine again except to politely notify him that their son had been born. He'd never see the boy who could've been the love of his life, his intended, his happy ending, again.

After he escaped the queries of the two other men, he sat cross-legged on his bed, a blank pad of paper in front of him, a pen in hand. He thought of Kurt, of their wonderful time together, of the way he couldn't help but smile and blush and want to hold and have and cherish forever every time he was around him, and, slowly, he began to write. Four words, the only way to describe how he truly felt.

Kurt, I love you.