The next time they fight, Kurt is ready. He’s been braced, counting the seconds and minutes and molecules of air between them. Cataloguing the silence and straining and the way they are both still pretending, a little, that everything is ok. Kurt tells himself it’s because they both trust that it will be. That they both know there’s a finish line here somewhere, a ribbon snaking across some distant road and soon enough Blaine will take his and together they will sprint into it, breaking through, and it will be done.

Kurt tells himself this, reminds himself and holds himself to this, the idea that he trusts in them. In their love and the strength of their relationship.  For every time he tries to talk, tries to push reluctant words into an even more stubborn silence, for every time he has to bite down, hard, on his lip, wondering when Blaine is going to stop walking away, stop pretending he can’t hear Kurt, he reminds himself. We love each other. It’s going to be ok.

But really, deep down, he’s not sure. Because Blaine won’t talk, Blaine won’t listen, Blaine hasn’t done more than continue to sweep the whole incident under a metaphorical carpet somewhere in his brain. And Blaine is so angry. He’s frustrated and holding Kurt’s actions close, Kurt knows that he’s just letting them fester and poison everything. And he’s just so fucking helpless, he can’t make Blaine forgive him. He can’t force Blaine to forget, can’t take the hurt away. He can’t summon trust that was once there and has been wrecked.

Blaine visits Kurt at work occasionally. He brings in coffee during Kurt’s break, or just stops in and browses, shooting Kurt amused glances as Kurt struggles with how to tactfully inform his customer that no, those pants do not flatter her in any way. It’s been two months since their last fight, two months of long silences and too few touches and Kurt is so lonely for Blaine, so desperately misses his sweet and tender boy that he’s reached a point where he’d take anything he can get from Blaine.

So when he sees Blaine breezing through the shop door fifteen minutes before the end of his shift he feels his face splitting with a bright smile. Blaine hasn’t visited him in weeks; a visit before the end of work usually means Blaine has something romantic or fun planned.  Kurt mouths a quick hello, tilting his head down at the pile of clothing draped over his arms, an apology for not coming over for a discreet kiss. He’s helping a completely clueless businessman with suits, has been for 45 minutes now, and god he cannot wait to tell Blaine about his day because seriously? How does one become successful in the business world and have no idea that that cut of suit is completely unsuitable for that particular body shape?

Kurt chats his customer up cheerfully, keeping tabs on Blaine, who is moving slowly through the men’s section. Blaine seems serious, hardly meeting Kurt’s eye, and Kurt is starting to feel a sick kind of anxiety because he never really knows where he’s standing with Blaine these days. He’s never quite sure where the line is, only that one day he’ll cross it and more than just his prized depression era glass will suffer as a consequence.  

He’s not sure whether to be grateful or apprehensive when he finally manages to get his customer sorted out, but he chooses to be optimistic. It’s not a natural fit for his sarcastic nature, but approaching Blaine on the defensive seems like a surefire way to create a problem, should he be lucky enough to have been misreading his fiance’s body language.

“Hey.” Kurt bounces out from behind a display of sweaters, leaning in to kiss Blaine’s cheek. Blaine smells delicious- his usual homey smell mixed with something like pumpkin spice; Kurt leans in and sniffs Blaine’s sweater playfully, “Have you been baking?”

“Yeah.” Blaine is leaning back, out of Kurt’s personal space, and Kurt has to bite back a sigh. So much of him is longing for an easy touch, for a simple moment. But Blaine is already turning toward the door, and Kurt can only follow, shouldering his messenger bag and bracing himself. He has no clue what the fuck he might have done wrong this time, but whatever it is, Kurt has to remind himself to stay calm. It’s getting harder and harder, staying calm and being the only level headed one.  Yes, he messed up. But it’s become frustrating, trying to figure out what upsets Blaine, trying to dodge arguments before they happen. And it’s a wasted effort, as Blaine seems to find plenty of reasons to get upset with him no matter what he does.

Maybe this will be good, he tells himself. Maybe if we talk things through we can clear the air and things might… his train of though abandons him. He’s not sure what he can expect- if he can hope for things to go back to normal? For things to get better?  All he knows is that this, this space and strangeness between them hurts. It’s cold and Blaine feels so far from being his lover right now. Blaine doesn’t even feel like a friend, which cuts so deep, because at their core they have always been best friends. This is what Kurt most treasures about their relationship.

“So are you working on some sort of new incentive program?” Blaine’s voice is sarcastic, which doesn’t fit him well. Kurt can feel a sort of itch between his shoulders; he wishes they weren’t out on the street, where he feels exposed and raw.

“What do you mean?” Kurt works to keep his voice neutral, hoping to deflect what he feels is going to be a fight soon enough.

“I figured they must have you working on a new sort of sales pitch; if you flirt enough, they’ll buy more?” And now Blaine’s voice is not only bitter, but loud.

“Blaine,” Kurt tries to stop him, having to tug on Blaine’s arm harder than he’d like. When Blaine stops and turns his face is set, lines of anger and frustration clear. “Can we please not do this here?”  Kurt pitches his voice low. He’s working to keep himself from getting annoyed.   The last thing he wants is to have to air this kind of laundry in public.  Kurt might be naturally dramatic, but this, this feels too close, to emotional and he just cannot do this anywhere but with Blaine, alone. But he can feel his face, the look he knows he gets when angry, and somewhere inside, he’s really kind of pissed.

Blaine has turned away, biting his lip, and Kurt can see him struggling to rein in his temper. Finally, he nods and turns without speaking, heading toward the subway. They don’t speak as they travel home, sitting in a block of silence, heavy and thick and pressing on Kurt. His stomach is tight with dread and a little bit of anger and frustration.  The silence follows them up the stairs, echoing with the noise of their footsteps, and into their apartment.  It lingers as Kurt unlaces his boots, stomach hurting with anticipation and uncertainty.