Never, did Kurt ever see himself in this position. The fact that it happened - that he even allowed it to happen, was beyond him in the first place. But it had happened, and it made Kurt happier than he had been in a long time.

"And do you, Kurt Hummel, take David Karofsky to be your lawfully wedded husband?"

Kurt grinned.

"I do."

^.^

Over the five years that followed, Kurt was happy.

But only for five years.

Because that's when David changed.

Kurt couldn't pinpoint the exact moment it happened - he supposed it happened over a long period of time, creeping up on him with no warning.

He first truly realised - he maybe he just came to terms with it then - when David came home drunk.

Now, it wasn't as if David wasn't a drinker - often he and Kurt would share a bottle of wine over dinner. David even sometimes came home slightly tipsy after drinking with his mates.

But never drunk.

So when he did, Kurt was surprised.

"David?" Kurt heard the door slam and smiled. "You home?"

"Mm...Home." a slurred reply came from the loungeroom.

Kurt frowned, stirring the pot of spaghetti.

Suddenly, two hands groped his hips and David was pressed up against him.

Kurt gave a concerned chuckle. "You drunk?"

"Mm...Drunk." he mumbled.

"Bad day?" Kurt turned the heat down and spun around, moving David's hands to rest on his chest.

"Asshole at the office." he muttered.

Kurt kissed the side of his mouth.

"You've been drinking Vodka." Kurt licked his lips. "I think it's time for bed."

David inhaled. "You're cooking."

Kurt smiled. "I'll freeze it and you can have it for lunch tomorrow."

David nodded and his grabbed hands slid back down to Kurt's hips.

"Come to bed with me?"

Kurt paused. "I have to finish cooking."

"No." David purred. "Bed. Now."

"Dave..." Kurt mumbled, and his lips found Kurt's neck; sucking, biting and licking.

"You know you want to." David purred, grinding against Kurt.

"Dave, I have to finish cooking!" Kurt protested half-heartedly. He could feel his body beginning to react, and he knew David wouldn't listen.

"Screw dinner. Bed. Now." Dave growled, pulling Kurt out of the room, his grip on Kurt's wrists almost too tight.

They paused in the hallway – David pushing Kurt against the wall, holding his hands above his head and claiming his lips in a bruising kiss, thrusting their hips together roughly. But Kurt wasn't fighting anymore – reacting and responding and grinning as David lifted him up. Kurt wrapped his legs around his waist, kissing him gently as the larger man carried him to the bedroom.

^.^

Kurt woke up in the middle of the night, panic settling in his gut. Did he leave the stove on? He pulled his boxers on, wincing a little at the sting, and hurried into the kitchen. All the lights were still on, and the moisture in the pot had evaporated – the spaghetti was burnt and melted into the pot.

With a sigh, he turned the heat off completely and threw the entire pot out. He needed a new one anyway.

"Kurt." Dave's gruff voice came from the doorway, and Kurt jumped, spinning around. "You went away."

"Sorry…." He whispered. "Everything was on."

Dave frowned, shutting off the light and moving forward to grab Kurt's arm. Kurt jerked away.

"What are you…?"

Dave growled and grabbed him tightly again, pulling him forward.

"We're going back to bed."

"You're still drunk."

"Come on Kurt…I want you…" he growled, and Kurt frowned.

"Dave, listen to me…you need to drink some water…and you need to go to bed."

Dave's face contorted into a mask of something Kurt hadn't seen for years now. Kurt actually felt scared as Dave glared at him, and Kurt closed his eyes.

"Please, Dave…just…go back to bed."

"You're coming with me." Dave grabbed him forcefully and this time Kurt didn't resist, letting himself be pulled as David's hand slipped into his pants again.

^.^

Dave was gone the next morning, and Kurt wanted to cry. A note on the fridge said he got called into work, but it was Saturday, and the office was closed. Did he feel guilty? Or was he just out drinking again?

Dave had been changing lately, and it was scaring Kurt.

That night, David came home late and drunk, and Kurt was too scared and too tired to resist. The next week passed the same way – Kurt didn't see David unless he was drunk or at least a little tipsy, and therefore didn't bother trying to talk to him.

The drunker he got, the more violent he seemed, and Kurt didn't know what to do.

Finally, a Monday morning arrived where Kurt and David woke up at the same time. Kurt rolled, his ass sore, and stared into David's sad, tired and bloodshot eyes.

"Morning." Kurt whispered, and David couldn't hold his gaze.

"Morning."

"…David…can we talk?"

David swallowed hard, his shoulders going tense as he sat up. "No. I have to get ready for work."

"But…please Dave…we really need to talk."

"No we don't." he hissed, and Kurt recoiled.

"But…"

"Kurt, stop it!" he shouted, slamming his fist into the mattress.

Kurt flinched and closed his eyes, as high school flickered back into his mind. David's eyes were wide, a little surprised.

"I'm sorry." David whispered, taking Kurt's hand even when he jerked away. "I just…it's been a bad week. I promise I'll fix it all…"

Kurt swallowed hard and nodded, believing his husband – because that's what he was supposed to do. Relationships were about trust, and he trusted David.

But David blew up with rage three times that morning – little things that didn't seem that important, but he made Kurt feel like hell with each insult to his abilities. He was almost in tears by the time David left, emotionally drained and forcing a smile as he waved goodbye.

For a month, Kurt put up with it.

He put up with the yelling – he shouted back sometimes, but then he'd study his figure in the mirror the next morning, finding the bruises that David…that Karofsky's rage left behind. He had been pushed into cupboards and tables – it felt all too familiar, and sometimes the finger-marks were worse. The fact that Karofsky could yell and scream and hurt him, and then force him into sex the next night was alarming.

Kurt thought he had more control than that.

But no. He couldn't control his body, he couldn't control anything.

More often than not he found himself crying into his pillows, muffling the broken moans that accompanied his rage at what was happening – how he couldn't do anything because behind all of it, behind everything that David put him through, he was still his husband.

And Kurt kind of loved him still.

So for a month, Kurt put up with it.

Until he found his escape.

Kurt didn't particularly like alcohol. It wasn't great, and he didn't ever feel the need for it. He was a generally happy person in the first place – he didn't need the buzz. But every day, trying to convince himself that he still needed David, was tough.

So he turned to alcohol.

The first night, he got himself wasted. Beyond feeling. Numb.

So numb he didn't even remember it the next morning. All he knew is that he'd slept with Dave, and there were no bruises.

It seemed like a fair trade-off – Kurt would drink himself to the point where he could relax. David would come home, they'd fight for ten minutes before ripping each other's clothes off.

And that was that. Kurt was happy.

Sort of.

^.^

To; Kurt

Hey! Uh…I know it's been a while. Hell, I'm not even sure your email is the same, but I just…I wanted to let you know that I'm sorry. It's been…what, seven years now? I'm kind of hoping you'll forgive me. I didn't mean to just walk out. I just…I panicked, and I didn't know how to tell you we were moving.

I'm sorry I didn't contact you sooner. It just seemed like I'd done something wrong and I really didn't know how to fix it.

God, I sound like an asshole. I mean, I KNOW I did something wrong. I should never have done it like that, and if I could go back I would and I would've spent that last night with you. I suppose it really doesn't matter now.

The reason for this email is because I'm back in town! Yay! I decided that Lima was my roots and I'd come back here to work. So… I was wondering if, by any chance that you've forgiven me…you want to meet up some-

Blaine Anderson shook his head, selecting the whole message and deleting it. Who did he think he was? He just had to accept the fact that yes, he was an asshole and he'd never see Kurt again.

His heart pounded with regret, the entire scenario playing on repeat in his head. His parents had told him he had to move. He told Kurt he was moving, and then he left. They didn't break up – they didn't talk about it. Kurt had sent him some heavily worded texts, and Blaine had been too much of a chicken to respond to them – everything about them had Kurt's biting tone and Blaine just couldn't bring himself to face it.

So now, seven years later, he was trying to get Kurt to talk to him. At least.

To; Kurt.

I'm sorry, and I know nothing worked out as it should've. But I'm willing to try a hand at friendship. My number is the same….text me?

Blaine swallowed hard. Simplicity was the best way to go, right? He hit send without thinking about it too much, closing his eyes and leaning back against his computer chair.

What was he even doing? It was Nick and Jeff's fault that he even thought of Kurt….

^.^

"Welcome back to Lima!" Nick grinned, settling in the booth.

Blaine couldn't get over the little girl on Jeff's chest, secured tightly in a sling.

"She's gorgeous! How old is she?"

Jeff was grinning. "Thanks Blaine...she's only two months."

Blaine mouth parted in awe. She was so little!

"When did this happen?"

Nick grinned, wrapping his arm around his boyfriend. "We've been together seven years…we wanted a baby, and we got Laura."

Jeff chuckled. "We actually got Sarah, who had Laura for us."

Nick rolled his eyes fondly and Blaine shook his head in wonder.

"Anyway, what have you been up to Blaine?"

"Well…I went to New York, like I always planned." He grinned, and Nick and Jeff nodded appreciatively. "I started recording – I've released a couple of solo albums – nothing big yet though. I'm keeping on the down-low at the moment." He grinned.

Nick's eye widened. "Whoa…"

Blaine nodded proudly. "What about everyone here? What happened? Did you keep in contact?"

"Well…" Nick paused to think. "Quinn went to Yale. God knows where she is now…probably saving the world. Mercedes is in Paris – she comes to visit sometimes, but she's got a son with someone she met over there. Finn's still here – coaching football and tending to Burt's shop at night and weekends. Sam…nobody knows where Sam went…Puck is teaching music therapy at the hospital…"

"Really?" Blaine raised his eyebrows.

Jeff nodded. "Nobody could really believe it either."

Blaine laughed as Nick continued.

"Tina and Mike got married and now Mike runs a dance school with Brittany. Tina works in childcare. Santana and Britt are still together, and Santana floats between jobs. Artie is a motivational speaker…and Kurt's a fashion designer, while Dave is a sports agent."

Blaine paused, his breath catching in his throat. "Dave?"

"Karofsky." Jeff clarified, before his eyes widened. "Oh…oh you don't know…"

Blaine looked confused.

"Oh…" Nick muttered, clearly embarrassed.

"What?" Blaine asked

"Well…after you left…about two years later, Dave and Kurt got married."

Blaine almost choked on his coffee. "WHAT!"

Jeff looked panicked at the sudden noise, his eyes flicking down to their baby, and Blaine quickly apologised.

"It's not as weird as it seems." Nick filled in. "I mean…after you left, they just clicked. Mind you, it was very slow, but it was cute."

Blaine shook his head – it was too much.

"You forgot Rachel." He managed to say, trying to focus on something else, and Nick's eyes widened.

"Oh yeah. She went to New York as well – I'm surprised you didn't run into each other. She's on Broadway now."

Blaine nodded, a little stunned.

"I think I'm going to call her."

^.^

Rachel had filled him in after that – Kurt was a wreck after Blaine left, and he immediately went to Karofsky for guidance. Their friendship only turned to romance after a full year, and even then they were still awkward around each other. But they were happy, so nobody had any objections.

"What about you?" Rachel bit, grinning a little on the phone. "Nobody even knows why you left, and now you're calling me seven years later demanding to know what happened to Kurt? I'm hurt."

Blaine laughed. "I was a really stupid teenager." He offered as explanation. "My father found out about Kurt and I, and he got us to move – I wanted to stay but…I still had a year of school left, unlike you lucky bastards." He laughed. "I just…I made the wrong decision and I couldn't tell Kurt. It would've broken him."

"It broke him more…what you did." Rachel said softly.

"I know…" Blaine whispered, shaking his head.

"So are you going to apologise to him?" she asked.

"What?"

"You left him, without saying a word." She offered. "I think it's only descent."

"He might hate me."

"For seven years? You got over him, didn't you?"

"Yeah…but…"

"But nothing. Send him an email."

Blaine sighed. "And say what?"

"Apologise!"

Blaine frowned, mulling it over.

"Besides, I haven't heard from him in a while…"

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"Nothing! The last time I did talk to him, he sounded tired. I'm hoping he's okay…"

Blaine frowned. "I don't understand. People get tired."

"Have you forgotten your life in high school, Blaine? People get tired…but Kurt doesn't get tired. Ever."

He smirked at the fond memory, and shook his head to clear it.

"Fine. I'll send him an email…but I don't see how it's going to do any good!"

^.^

Technically, it was Rachel's fault. But still.

His computer beeping disrupted his thoughts, and he saw an email from one Kurt Hummel.

10am tomorrow morning. Lima Bean.