BLAINE
April 15th

"Blaine," Kurt whispers as he pulls away. He's staring at me, his blue eyes watery and sad and I nod once. "That's the last time I'm going to kiss you for a while," I say. "Can I come in?"
He nods and steps aside, holding the door open so I can walk past him. We stand awkwardly in the foyer for a few moments, shuffling our feet, not wanting to look at each other, before he waves me through the door way.
I purse my lips and he says "just...right through there," in a quiet, broken whisper and I follow the line his hand has traced through a doorway.
The sitting room is dark (was he really sitting here in the dark?), but even with the minimal light, I can tell he decorated it. I squint a bit as the light flicks on and then look around the room, get used to my settings.
It's modern, but not that cold, hard modern you see in magazines with "clean lines" and "contrasting color palettes." It's a cozy, comfortable modern, a lot like his office. The wall above the fireplace is covered in photographs. One of a little boy who I can only assume is Kurt with his arms wrapped around a pretty woman who looks very much like him. His mother, I think.
I barely suppress the smile that tugs at my lips as my eyes come to rest on one of a much younger Kurt, maybe high school-aged, in a ridiculous sparkly outfit, standing on a stage. He's got a microphone in his hand and his mouth is open in song. I mentally file away the fact that Kurt sings or used to sing, and let myself smile a little wider.
There is so much I don't know about this beautiful man.
Kurt clears his throat and I whirl around to look him straight in the eye. His arms are crossed over his chest and his lips are pressed tightly together. "You can sit," he says. "If you want."
I nod and take a seat on the plush couch, somewhere in the back of my mind thinking, my usual spot.
For some reason, I feel disappointed when Kurt sits in the chair across from me.
I wanted him near me.
It's silent again now, and the two of us are staring at each other. He looks so lonely and small, in that chair. He regards me with something a bit colder than sadness. Defeat?
"Kurt," I say quietly after a few seconds. His eyes brighten at my mention of his name, but he doesn't say anything, just keeps looking at me with those lonely, beautiful eyes. "I-"
"What are you doing here, Blaine?" he asks quietly.
The sound of my name on his lips is delicious. "I...I came to talk to you," I say.
"Obviously," he replies. "About what?"
He doesn't sound angry. It's more of a...a new, bitter edge to the usual sadness of his voice.
I gulp and speak. "I'm sorry, Kurt."
"For what?" he asks. "For kissing me? Because...because I'm not sorry for that, Blaine. I'm not. And I'm not," he pauses to breathe, "I'm not sorry for kissing you. And I'm not sorry you're here."
"I'm not sorry for any of that either. I'm just..."
I'm not sure how to word this next part. I didn't think about it.
"I'm..." I start, unsure of where I'm going. "I'm sorry I keep hurting you like this," I finish.
"Then why?" Kurt asks. "Why do you?"
"I'm-"
"Never mind," Kurt says. "It's not my business."
It's silent again for a few moments. Then, a flash of gray darts in front of my eyes and something warm and cashmere-soft settles itself in my lap.
I smile to myself and scratch behind the little cat's ears. She mews quietly and tilts her chin up, and I scratch under there, too.
"Hey," Kurt hisses, clucking his tongue. "Get down from there, stop bothering Blaine."
I smile up at him and hear the way his breath catches. "It's okay," I assure him. "She's not bothering me. Are you, sweetheart?"
The little gray cat purrs and shuts her eyes. I catch Kurt's small smile, and he says, "that's The Professor."
I quirk an eyebrow. "Short for Professor Minerva McGonagall," he explains.
"From Harry Potter?" I ask, grinning.
"Yeah," he says. "It was my entire childhood."
I grin wider. "Same."
I file that away, too.
And now it's quiet again. Eventually, The Professor hops off my lap and bounds through the doorway across the room and Kurt and I are left alone again.
The silence aches.
"Kurt," I whisper after too long. "I'm scared of you."
He looks up and knits his brows, but doesn't say anything.
So I continue.
"I'm...I'm terrified of you. Terrified because...I like you, Kurt. I could...I could even see myself loving you one day."
"Blaine-"
"Please," I say. "Please just...just hear me out."
He nods.
"Like I said...I like you. So much, Kurt. You have...brought me back to a place where I don't wish I was dead every single day, and that is...incredible. You are incredible. Everything about you is incredible and beautiful and perfect and I...I just wish I wasn't so scared, Kurt. I really do. But I...I want to be with you some day."
"But just not today?"
I nod. "Not today. Maybe tomorrow. I just...will you wait for me, Kurt? Please? Just until I can sort myself out. Please."
A solitary tear tumbles down his cheek and he nods, lets out a quiet sob, and looks back up at me, a small smile curling at his lips. "Yes," he says. "I'll wait for you, Blaine."
I let out a sob of my own and grin widely. "Thank you," I whisper. I stand up and he does, too and we cross the small space between us to embrace. I wrap my arms around his ribs and he wraps his around my hips and I bury my face in the crook of his neck and he buries his nose in my hair and inhales deeply.
And we begin to sway. Sort of like we're dancing, almost. But more like we just want to move together, somehow, and hold each other tighter, so we do.
"I'm not asking you to wait forever," I breathe out after a while.
"But I would, Blaine," he whispers into my hair. "I would."
I pick my head up and smile at him and he looks different, somehow. More beautiful, in a way that isn't quite apparent on his face, but it's there, under his skin, behind the backs of his eyes. "I'm so glad you're here," I say, dipping my head down to rest my chin on his shoulder. I breathe in deeply, inhaling him and his scent.
"I'm glad you're here," he replies.
After what seems like hours and turns out to be minutes, we break apart and he walks me to the door.
We smile at each other, standing in the foyer with the door open. "I want you in my life, Kurt," I say. He nods and gently takes my hand, laces our fingers together. "I want to be in your life," he says.
"And I want to see you again. Can I?"
He nods. "Of course," he replies. "When?"
"How about lunch next week?"
"Sure. When next week?"
I smirk and peek up at him through my eyelashes. "How does Monday at 3:30 sound?"
He laughs quietly. "Monday at 3:30 sounds perfect," he says softly. "Do you want to meet me at the office?"
I nod, and then lean in to pull him tightly to me again. "Thank you, Kurt," I whisper into his ear. As I pull away, I gently press my lips to his cheek.
"Thank you," he sighs.
I give him one last grin, and then I turn around and head for the subway.
--
KURT
Blaine left an hour ago.
But I'm still smiling.
Because I feel...I feel good. For the first time in years, I feel good about myself. Maybe I didn't screw this thing up with Blaine.
Maybe I'm not a screw-up.
With a grin plastered on my face, I jump up and grab my cell phone and dial Rachel's number. I was going to stay in tonight, but now I feel too good to waste it.
"Hey," she says when she picks up. "What's up? Are you okay?"
"Yeah," I say giddily. "I'm...I'm great. Listen, do you and Santana want to do something?"
I hear Santana's voice in the background, asking who it is, then Rachel covers the mouthpiece and says, "it's Kurt. He wants to know if we want to go out."
They discuss for a few seconds, and then Rachel says, "Kurt? I'm gonna put you on speaker, okay?"
I laugh and agree, and then I hear the phone being placed on the counter, since they're probably in the kitchen. "What's up, Hummel?" Santana asks.
I smile to myself. "Nothing," I say. "I'm just in a really good mood and I don't feel like staying in tonight. I thought I'd see if my girls wanted to go out."
"What did you have in mind?" Rachel asks.
I shrug. "I don't know. Maybe...drinks and dessert?"
"I'm always down for drinks," Santana says and Rachel makes a noise of assent.
"Then it's settled," I reply. "Meet me at my place in...half an hour?"
"Sounds bueno!" Santana calls, and I imagine her striding back into her bedroom to dress in something sexy so she can get us free drinks from the cute college girl who tends bar at our favorite place in the West village.
"Kurt," Rachel says, picking up the phone again. "You're off speaker now. Are you okay?"
"Yeah," I say. "I am...fantastic."
"Does this...does it have anything to do with Blaine?"
"Maybe," I quip.
She gasps. "Are you guys-"
"I'll explain later," I laugh. "Just...get here quick, okay?"
"Okay," she says, a grin in her voice. "Hey, Kurt?"
"Yeah?"
"You sound...you sound good. Like the old you."
"I feel good. I feel really, really good."
--
Sunday, April 21st
BLAINE
2:34 am

I wake up slowly, like I'm not in a rush.
But I'm not in my bed.
Well, I am, but...it's my old bed. In my old apartment.
How did I get here? Did I get drunk? Did I pass out here?
But it feels like I'm...supposed to be here. It doesn't feel wrong at all, that I'm here, in my old apartment.
I turn over and look at the clock.
There's no time on it. It's all zeroes. Confused, I sit up.
And then my heart stops. I must be drunk. Or high.
Andrew is sitting at the end of the bed. And it's him. He looks so real, so there. He looks like he did before things started going wrong, his soft blonde hair combed perfectly, his emerald green eyes, those eyes I used to look into forever and be sure I could see something amazing in them, are bright and staring straight into mine.
"Hey."
He sounds so real, too. Just like he used to. It feels so familiar, that "hey," like he was never gone at all.
"An-Andrew." I say, sitting up further. "You...you died. You died nine months ago. You steered us into a truck. Did...was that...did it not happen?"
Andrew laughs, that low, throaty chuckle that always made me want to pull him into our bedroom and tear his clothes off. "No. I died, you're right. You're dreaming."
I should feel disappointed, but I don't. I feel...okay. A wave of warmth washes over me.
"I've missed you Blaine," he says, covering my hand with his.
"Oh, Andrew," I say, locking our fingers together. He feels real. Like he always did. "I've missed you, too. You couldn't possibly know how much I've missed you."
He nods at me. "I do. I...I saw what you tried to do. When you went to swallow all those pills. I'm glad Cooper came in when he did," he says, a knowing look on his face.
I don't know what makes me realize it, but it comes together in my head. "You sent him."
Andrew nods again, grinning. "Of course I did. I couldn't let you do that, Blaine."
It's quiet for a few moments. We sit there in the dark, drinking each other in.
"Blaine...you know when I steered us into the truck, I-"
"Don't blame yourself," I reach up with one hand to cup his cheek gently. "Please. You weren't thinking right."
He smiles sadly at me, reaches up and takes my hand in his, holds it to his chest. I don't feel his heartbeat. "Regardless. I did it. And for a while I was...here-and to be completely honest I don't really know where here is-and I was regretting it. Wishing I'd listened to you, wishing I'd thought about...about what I did more."
"Andrew-"
"Shh," he presses a finger to my lips. "And then...I saw you with Kurt. I saw how much he was helping you and how happy he was making you and...this incredible peace just...fell over me. And I knew. I knew everything that happened, happened for a reason and I knew that all of it brought you to Kurt."
"I...I don't know what to say."
Andrew laughs. "That's why you're a music person and I was an English teacher. But...but he does make you happy, right? You'd be...happy if you were with him?"
"Yes, but Andrew, I'll always love you-"
Again, he laughs and shakes his head. "You don't have to worry about me anymore, Blaine. I'm gone. I'm happy where I am. And you should be happy where you are."
"Oh, Andrew." I'm choking back tears, but not sad tears. I don't know what kind of tears they are, but they're not sad.
"You know that's all I've ever wanted for you, don't you? Happiness?"
"I do. That's all I ever wanted for you too, Andrew."
"I know that, too. And I am happy. I'm...I'm at peace. And now, I want you to be with Kurt because he makes you happy. Be with him, hug him, kiss him, make crazy, passionate love to him."
I laugh, and smile at Andrew. "I really have missed you, you know."
He chuckles at me. "You told me, goofball. But I have to go now."
"Will I...will I see you again?"
Andrew stands up, slowly lets go of my hand. "No," he says, shaking his head. "I don't think so. Not anytime soon, at least."
"I love you, Andrew," I say. I'm not sad that he's leaving. I'm feeling...amazingly peaceful, like whatever peace he's feeling has floated from his heart to mine.
"I love you too, Blaine. Goodbye."
“Goodbye.”
I open my eyes. I'm back in my room, staring at the ceiling. I'm crying. But just like before, they're not sad tears.
I'm okay.