The house was silent, thankfully, it was a rarity for this house. the walls, draped in fine furnishings that overreached the typical Ohio homestead, often shook from a song's thumping bass, voices cried out, brotherly fighting, familial laughter, parental instructions, one could almost always hear a tune being sung. belted out with gusto and passion or a quiet sweet song between lovers, which could really be just as passionate;  but today, in this moment the house lay still, quiet as dust and that was what Kurt needed now. 
    The lock tumbled, the tiny metalic sound breaking the silence for just a moment,  the mahogany door slowly swept inward, it was as though the light swirled from the movement. Emotion seeped into the empty foyer like water tracked in on the boots Kurt donned in the midwestern spring rains; and just as he did then he would curse himself for bringing it in.  everything was heavy now, every atom seemed to hold its breath.  He hadn't cried, he hadn't sung a ballad nor had he even said a word since those last four;  "i didn't get in".   Blaine had been waiting on edge to find out.  He had waited for Kurt in the auditorium, their sacred place, Kurt couldnt bring it upon himself to bring this cancer to their temple. He had  just left him there, another something he would come to regret later. 
    There was a grandiose mirror on the wall next to the door, its frame was beautiful brass, Kurt's mother had bought it when he was four years old and they had been antiquing, something they had loved to do together; she had fallen in love with it, she held him up to see himself and said to him " look baby, isn't it pretty?"  he had told her it was prettier because he could see her in it, she had cuddled him and called him her perfect porcelain baby. She had always loved his skin and after her death Kurt had worked endlessly to preserve it the way it had been when she was alive.  He looked into the polished glass now and his skin was more pale than kurt had ever seen it, it was a flat, sharp white and had none of the delicate rose he usually sported, this blushing pink that his mother, and now Blaine, loved so dearly. Kurt looked like death, and really that was apt, his dreams had died, all this work over the past year, and over his entire high school career really, was dead. Kurt absently thought to himself that he'd better get ready for another funeral, and drifted up the stairs to his room to change into something black.
    It was the moment the door swung wide to reveal  his room that Kurt broke;  he had realised his dream was dead but seeing everything he owned, sorted and ready to go to new york, ready for a future that wouldn't happen, that made it real, it was like seeing a corpse.  He dropped to his knees and cried silent tears into his plush carpet. And it was fitting that his tears were silent, a dream that had been so loud was dead, to wail in mourning would have been blasphemy.

    Blaine had waited, a giddy smile on his face and a dozen roses on his arm. he'd even prepared a song to sing for his man. of course he wouldn't know for sure until Kurt told him, but he knew it, he knew that Kurt had to have gotten in. He had kicked ass in his audition, not to mention those pants... let's just say blaine expressed his appreciation for those pants fully later that night.  The memory widened Blaine's  smile another few millimeters, and then he realised Kurt was taking quite a long time, and Blaine felt a pang in his heart.  It was many things, fear, panic, sadness, worry, dread, he couldn't pinpoint the exact feeling but he was running toward the choir room, the roses clenched in his fist and the smile and the song were left back on the stage.
    Kurt wasn't there, it was just Finn and Rachel standing there crying/kissing at eachother, that wasn't unusual for them so blaine didnt know what to think and he didnt really care about them at this point. He knew that Kurt wouldnt have abandoned him if it were good news and the pang in his heart grew into a slow steady ripping pain.
    He was running again, to kurt's house this time, it wasn't far but he wished he would have driven today, he needed to be with Kurt. Now. Every second the dread grew heavier in his chest and slowed his feet.  It was the most terrible of cycles.  After ten of the longest minutes he had ever experienced, Blaine stood on the front step of the Hummel-Hudson house; the beautiful, heavy front door was open just slightly, that was unusual.  Pang.  Blaine pushed it open in a strange morose yet hurried manner and slid throught the front room and up the stairs in the same odd way. but standing in the door frame, all hurry had left him and he was completely somber.  Kurt layed crumpled on the floor, he was broken; the strong man that Blaine loved, the man that no matter what got thrown at him and no matter how much it hurt him, emotionally or physically, always powered through and was better for it, had been reduced to a broken porcelain doll, Blaine had seen his Kurt cry before, of course he had, but never like this, and Blaine had to fix it. 

    Kurt heard the padded footsteps, heard the broken sound of flowers and tissue paper hitting the floor, and he heard the dry sound of Blaine drawing breath.  It didnt break his silence, but complimented it.  Kurt wanted to be alone, Blaine was not an intruder on his lonliness, Blaine was an extention of himself and was therefore as much of an intruder as Kurt's own arm.  Blaine was  there for Kurt to be alone with.  That's why Kurt just continued being broken when he heard Blaine's approach, compared to if his father or Finn or Carole had walked in on his pitiful state.  Though he loved each of them so, so much, had Blaine been one of them he would have hid his misery, at least at first, and right now he would have yelled at them for shattering his silence.  But it was Blaine so he just continued crying and welcomed Blaine's loving arms around his shoulders and the beautiful feeling as Blaine pressed his bubblegum lips to the bit of pale skin that showed itself at the back of Kurt's neck,  and they stayed like that for a very long time, just being alone together. 
    The sun was setting when Kurt's tears went dry, they left his blue eyes; normally like fine cut diamonds; puffy, red and wet looking, and there were salty tracks that showed just where every tear had fallen, they marred the alabaster skin, but didnt make it ugly, never ugly. just a broken kind of beautiful.  At least, that's what was going through Blaine's head as he kissed each trail, trying, in this small way at first, to make it better. 
    Kurt had not needed to tell Blaine this terrible news, he had just known, and for this he was thankful, but Kurt's father did not have such astute telepathic abilities and Kurt knew he would have to tell his father that he had not gotten into his dream school, the only school he had applied to, and he would not be going to New York, and everything he had worked for was gone; in just so many words.  And his father would get angry, he would call the school and ask for someone to yell at, and he would never accept this terrible fate, and though in doing so Kurt knew he would mean well, but it would only serve to make him feel even worse. And at that current moment in time, just as Kurt Hummel was desperatly not looking forward to his father's arrival, Burt Hummel was pulling into his driveway. and he would see the forgotten flowers, and he would see his tear-stained son in his boyfriend's arms and he would not know to not ask if kurt got his letter, and when Kurt gave a tight nod, he would not know to not ask if he had gotten in.  and it would happen just how Kurt had been dreading.  And Finn would walk in while his father was screaming about Kurt not getting accepted because of homophobia, and Finn would happily report that rachel got it. and that he was so proud of rachel and that rachel was so special. And Finn would never be good at sensing the tension in a room, even now when it was as thick as frozen peanutbutter. And  Kurt would mistakenly mutter to himself, and to Blaine, that he would never dare to dream again.

    It was much later in the night when Kurt and Blaine where alone again, finally, in Kurt's bedroom.  Their fingers were tangled together, not two hands, but one, just as their hearts were tangled together, not two hearts, but one.  Blaine was whispering in Kurt's ear, quiet as dust, words meant only for two, it was what Kurt needed now. Blaine said  "you're so talented, love, you're so beautifully passionate and if NYADA rejected you it's because they're too stupid to realise what's right under their noses, and they're going to be kicking themselves when your name's in lights. and you don't want to train under people who are so painfully stupid, and you'll be in New York next year, we'll plan every detail." a tear ran down Blaine's cheek and Kurt would have been tearing up himself had he not exhausted his reserves earlier in the evening, so he smiled a sad sort of smile " but Ohio will always be a beautiful place for me too.  Because i met you here, and no matter what happens i'll always have you and you'll always have me and the rest doesnt really matter"   and Kurt took it back, he would dare to dream again, he dared to dream every time he looked into Blaine's eyes, every time they linked fingers, and everytime their lips met.  It wasn't Kurt's perfect, but it was a broken kind of beautiful, and that could be perfect too.