“Rachel Berry please get out of my room!!!” Kurt yelled as he tried to quickly shut and lock the door.

“I’m just trying to help she barked as she put all her weight on the door trying to pry it enough to hopefully stick her foot in and push it open. From a by standers perspective this was a ridiculous display, seeing a five foot woman of 100 lbs try with all her might to push a steel door but if Rachel was anything it was definitely equal parts ambitious and stubborn.

“I am not going to let you do this to yourself” she yelled through the door. On the other side of the steel Kurt was leaning against the door while on the floor holding back a sob. He knew she was right; it had been two weeks, two weeks of sobbing and cursing, and eating ice cream in his bed silently mourning the loss of his relationship. Kurt was used to being bullied, to having the world take things away, but he never thought that the person he trusted the most would be getting in on the action. He had ignored text, and phone calls all saying the same thing “I’m sorry” but Kurt was less interested in the “I’m sorry” of it all and more interested in the “Why?” Kurt was quickly shaken out of his thoughts by the banging happening behind him.

“Let me in!!!” Rachel yelled while simultaneously banging on the door, he was sure his neighbors thought that they were meth addicts on a bad trip and even though he was heartbroken he still cared about keeping up appearances.

 “Have you gone bat shit crazy?” Kurt yelled as he opened the door, looking up at a frantic Rachel Berry.

“Crazy? No, but worried like hell I am” She looked over Kurt’s outfit, sweat pants and a long sleeved oversized t-shirt. This was always a telltale sign that Kurt was suffering. “You have been in your room for the past two weeks, and don’t think I haven’t noticed you’ve been wearing the same thing the last three days…. “ at this Kurt hugged himself as if to shield his outfit “you can’t keep doing this”

He looked at her with red rimmed eyes and he knew she was right, she had now become the voice of reason, when did he stoop so low? At this realization he looked around the room and saw the evidence. Clothes everywhere, empty take out containers, Bridgette Jones on his DVD player, who had he become?

“You are right” he shook his head feverously “I don’t even know who I am anymore” He started pacing around the room, trying to figure out where to begin. “I let myself fall apart, and I know I have survived worse than him” He looked over at Rachel who was already closing the gap between them as she wrapped her arms around him, she was the first physical contact he had since Blaine and it stung to even have the sweet gesture sting with his name and face. She didn’t say anything but pulled away and as she passed the door she whispered “Talk to him…”

Kurt shuttered at the idea of having to hear Blaine’s voice, he knew that his tone alone could make him do anything. He would imagine the face that was attached to the melancholy voice on the other end of the receiver and give in to any request in hopes to make it better.  He didn’t want to send something as impersonal as a text; this was their relationship they were talking about not funny banter to accompany Jersey Shore, so he let the idea go. Later that night he was on his computer for the first time since the breakup, where they even broken up? Kurt silently wondered if Blaine still had him listed as his boyfriend on Facebook, something so sophomoric but a sign of the times that this is how teenagers interacted nowadays.  He quickly logged in and saw he had more than 30 notifications; he didn’t want to check knowing that most of them were probably friends from home checking up on him. Next to his notifications he noticed he had five messages, three of them from Mercedes and two of them from Blaine. He sighed as he stared at his laptop. He propped himself higher in his bed trying to decide whether to read them or not. His curiosity gave way as he clicked on the most recent one. With only the light of his laptop illuminating the room he read the last paragraph of what seemed to be a long letter.

“… I know that I killed it, I killed us but the thing is that I don’t think that we are dead. And I am going to continue to fight for you because as stupid as what I did was I won’t stop fighting for us and I won’t ever forgive myself until you forgive me. You were perfect and I ruined it”

 As tears were stinging his eyes, he clicked on his profile to check what he originally logged in to see. It was almost like nothing had changed, profile picture still them at regionals, relationship status still “in a relationship with Kurt Hummel” it was like time had stopped, at least on the internet and as silly as that was to conceive it was at least comforting. Until he scrolled down, and there without warning was a comment from an Eli C. It was about two weeks old and read “That was fun? “ It took everything Kurt had to not throw his computer across the room. His fingers were turning red as he balled them into fist and fought every urge to cry. This was it, some fucking guy on Facebook, really? He felt it in the pit of his stomach, it was worse than any need to vomit, but that’s what it was like nausea and depression, and most of all anger. He quickly closed his laptop; he would not be talking to Blaine Anderson again.