Chapter 11
March 25th

KURT

I'm waiting in my office for Blaine. It's 3:45. He's never late.
"Dr. Hummel?"
I look up at Jeanette, standing in the doorway.
"Yes?"
She walks further into the office. "Your 3:30, Blaine Anderson just called. He canceled. Said he had an emergency."
I nod. I know it's not an emergency.
"Okay. Uhm...so then...well I guess you can go. I'm gonna head out too."
Jeanette nods at me and I gather up my things, follow her out. "Have a nice evening, Dr. Hummel," she says.
I smile at her and head down the street to the subway, ride it to my house.
I get inside and I don't even cry.
I'm just numb.
--
April 1st

KURT

It's 3:30. I'm home early. Blaine canceled. Again.
--
April 8th
KURT

Call this canceled session number three.
I think I'm starting to give up.
--
April 15th
KURT

I don't know why I'm waiting today. He hasn't been here in three weeks.
Blaine.
I've heard nothing from him. Not a word, not a single breath in three entire weeks. I've been without the beautiful lilting melody of his voice, its inflections, the way it rises and falls with each word. I miss the curve of his lips when he frowns or smiles or speaks, miss the curls in his hair and how they're unruly some days, neatly gelled back others. And I miss his eyes, too, the way they go dark whenever he talks about anything that upsets him, or the way they widen ever-so-much when he overcomes something particularly different.
I miss him. Every piece, every shattered, broken bit of him, of Blaine. My heart is so lonely and small and it beats for him, and he's not here.
I know I did this. I know I screwed up when I fell for him, when I didn't send him to another doctor right away, when I kissed him. It was by chance that he kissed me back, out of curiosity. And then...God, asking him to my house? What is wrong with me? I hate myself for this, I hate myself even more than I do on most days because this, this is so much more than just being me.
This was ruining my one chance, my only chance at happiness.
I...I was almost starting to believe what people tell me. That I'm not useless and worthless and stupid and all of that crap. Blaine was making me start to believe that.
God, I love him. I love him so much.
I almost forget the part where he said he liked me a few weeks ago, in the dark on that bench near my house. Almost. But never, never. That is burned there, into my brain and my heart forever.
With a deep breath, I curl up on the couch in the office, on the cushion directly in the middle where he always sits. I lean back against it and pretend I can feel him there, can smell him. I pretend I can hear his voice and see his eyes and his lips and his curls. I pretend we're somewhere else, somewhere warm and comfortable, and that I'm leaning against him, that he's holding me with his arms around me shoulders and that the's leaning down to gently press his lips to my temple.
I almost don't hear Jeanette walk into the office and say "dr. Hummel?"
But I do and I snap out of my idiocy and turn around. She smiles kindly at me as I wave her in. "Uhm, I just wanted to let you know that Mr. Anderson just called."
"He did?" I ask, too eagerly. "Blaine called?"
Jeanette nods. "Yes, he said that he's switching therapists. He found a practice much closer to him, said the commute was easier."
It's then that I go numb. Truly, absolutely, and completely numb.
--
BLAINE
"So, Mr. Anderson-"
"You can call me Blaine," I say to Dr. Jenkins, my new therapist. She's nice. Middle-aged, and pretty, with auburn hair cropped close to her head in a pixie cut and wide glasses.
She smiles and shakes her head. "I prefer the formality," she says. "Now, Mr. Anderson-"
"Please," I say. "Call me Blaine. It'll...it'll make me more comfortable."
A pained look flits across her face before she smiles kindly at me. "Alright. If it would make you feel more comfortable. Blaine."
I smile back.
"Now," she says. "You told me before that you made a lot of progress with your previous therapist."
"I did," I say, my heart giving the most awful lurch at the thought of Kurt. "He was amazing."
IS amazing, I mentally correct myself. Kurt is still amazing. Just because I'm not there with him anymore, not in his office seeing him and hearing him and breathing him doesn't mean he isn't amazing anymore.
He'll always be amazing, my Kurt.
Lately, whenever I think about him, I've been calling him that, my Kurt. I always called Andrew my Andrew. And I loved Andrew. I still do, on some level. I know that, or else I wouldn't have fucked Kurt around the way I did.
I feel awful about it. I hate myself for it.
But I push that thought away, into the back of my mind to be visited later, when I'm alone in my bed and wishing I had Kurt in my arms.
"Blaine, I'd-"
"What's your first name?" I ask. I lean forward in my chair (there's no couch in this office. I hate that. On the couch in Kurt's office, I could stretch out or curl up or lie down. I never did, but I always had the option.)
"I-I'm sorry?" Dr. Jenkins stammers. I smile. "What's your first name? I-I don't really like calling you 'doctor.'"
"Blaine," she says, her voice warning. "I hope that you're not-"
"Not flirting," I clarify. "I'm gay."
"Fine," she says. "But Blaine, I did say before that I prefer formality."
"Please," I say.
Dr. Jenkins sighs. "Amy. My first name is Amy."
"Amy," I repeat. "That's nice."
She nods and smiles tightly. "Thank you. Now, Blaine, I'd like to speak with you a little bit about your husband."
I shake my head. "I don't want to talk about Andrew," I say. Not for the first time, I notice that it doesn't hurt like it used to to say his name.
"Then what would you like to talk about?" Amy asks.
"Uhm..."
I rack my brain, but I can't find anything else. Kurt, maybe.
But no. I want to keep him to myself.
Plus I want to keep him out of trouble. I know that some of the things he did can't exactly be considered ethical. As much as I wanted to kiss him, as much as I wanted him to kiss me, I know it could screw him over if anyone ever found out.
I think about kissing him and how much I'd love to do it again, how I'd spend hours kissing him if I could.
And I think about how much I miss him. How much I hate not being near him. How much I hate myself for letting him go.
I could love him. Someday, I can see myself loving him, but I let him go. And now I'll never get to know what loving Kurt Hummel is like, or what it's like to kiss him awake in the morning or...or whisper to him late at night when neither one of us can sleep because we're too excited to be together.
"Nothing," I say. I lean back in the chair and pop my knuckles, one at a time, watching as Dr. Jenkins winces after each cracking sound.
"So you'd just like to sit here?" she asks, her tone neutral.
I nod.
And we sit.
--
KURT

I must look pathetic. Sitting in my living room, not a single light on, completely alone. Even The Professor is looking at me funny, like she's concerned about me. I scowl at her and she mews quietly, then goes back to licking her paws clean.
I've been doing this for two hours now. And by "this," I mean absolutely nothing. I left the office and took a subway back to the station by my house and then I went out and got Chinese food. After that, I tried running some errands, just to get my mind off of everything.
Blaine switched therapists.
It's the final nail in the coffin. He doesn't want to see me. He said he liked me, but so what? People say things they don't mean all the time.
Blaine doesn't want to see me and he probably doesn't like me and this is my fault because in addition to being a horrible therapist, I'm a fuck-up at relationships. I always have been. Ben, of course.
And now Blaine.
I've lost him. He's gone and it's over and I'd be perfectly happy-unhappy to die alone, because if I can't be with Blaine, I don't really want to be with anybody.
Oh.
Oh, wow.
There it is. I've been beyond sad, I've been numb about him. I haven't cried. I haven't shed a tear yet, but now...
I can't stop the tears, now. They're flowing, hot and angry and fast, down my cheeks and my neck and my nose is running. Everything hurts, every single part of my body stings and burns and aches, because I can't have him, but he's all I want.
He's all I want, always, for the rest of my existence and he'll never, ever be mine.
God, it hurts. It hurts so fucking much, more than anything has ever hurt me before.
I almost don't hear the knocking over my hysterics. It's frantic and loud, and I think to myself, wow, Rachel's Kurt-is-sobbing-again sense is getting really accurate. But I don't want to see her right now. I want to be alone.
So I ignore it. Maybe she didn't hear me sobbing and she'll go away.
But she doesn't, so, sighing heavily, I get up and walk to the door and pull it open.
"Rachel, I-"
And then there are lips on mine. Soft, warm lips, kissing me hard and pushing open my lips slowly.
"Blaine," I whisper breathlessly as he pulls away.