The next six months are a learning process, some sort of fucked up learning process that Kurt never quite gets the hang of.  Most days he feels like he’s either walking a tightrope or trapped on a roller coaster. Some days, he’s sure it’s both at the same time and the vertigo threatens to overcome him. For months, Kurt tiptoes around the subject, treading a fine line of anxiety and care. He understands now that the only thing he can give Blaine is time, and love.  But it is hard, he struggles constantly; worried that he might say or do something, anything, to make Blaine feel insecure or threatened.  He stays by Blaine’s side when they go out with friends, tries harder not to seem flirtatious, to give Blaine extra affection. Kurt has never been comfortable being affectionate and open in public, but he feels a need from Blaine, a searching for assurance; it’s overpowering and heart rending, and he knows he’ll do anything, anything, to make Blaine secure and validated.

~*~*~*~*~

It’s July in New York, which means many things to many people, but nothing good to Kurt. He hates the smell of the city in the summer, hates the heat that follows him like a blanketing wave into the apartment. He hates feeling cooped up, chased into the sanctuary of their bedroom with its single window unit. Kurt resents the summer months; his friends that take those months to recharge from classes, to travel, to go home and see family. Right now, Kurt would love to be home, to spend time with his father; to play video games with Finn while pretending to hate it.

But his education is expensive, and Kurt had been determined that his father wouldn’t bankrupt himself sending Kurt to school in a far away city.  He doesn’t want to be saddled with debt; despite his best efforts, he knows he will be. But he does his best to minimize the damage, so he goes to school part time, even during the summer months, and works. Blaine’s family is distant; they barely speak except for cool exchanges over the holidays really, but Kurt’s realized by now that Blaine’s parents figure paying Blaine’s way is enough to offset any needs he might have as a child, as a human. Things like love and acceptance.

Kurt hates the things he misses during this month; Blaine sweating over his guitar in the mid afternoon, noodling aimlessly, random notes hitting the air until a tune strikes him. Kurt resents his late classes; they keep him from so many open mic nights, so many chances to hear Blaine, open and lose and lost in the music.

Most of all, Kurt hates this July.  The heat sits between him and Blaine, a compact mass of air he cannot penetrate. Their words and deeds skip over the surface of an atmosphere of residual anger and pain. Things appear normal, everything looks fine from the outside. But something is missing, something that wakes Kurt in the middle of the night, aching and scared.  But he’s waiting, he’s waiting it out and letting Blaine take his time. Alone in their kitchen, Kurt curses the heat as sweat drips down his spine. He looks at the line of his ring, stark against his pale skin, and thinks about forever.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

It’s August, and they finally have a break. A week in between summer and fall semesters, time off from his job that Kurt has hoarded carefully. They drive home, car full of music and the sound of their voices. Night is falling, the sky is deepening purples and pinks and Blaine rolls down the windows to let the fresh air in, then takes Kurt’s hand.

Kurt loves him. It’s a feeling so intense; this moment that Kurt will always remember. A full stop in the winding ribbon of his life in which everything is just right.

He squeezes Blaine’s hand and sings louder, over the sound of the rushing wind.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

By September, Kurt has lost track of Blaine’s schedule. They both come and go, bumping into each other occasionally. They move independently, tied to class schedules and study groups, committed to deadlines and jobs. Blaine studies for his LSAT’s late into the night; he starts to feel like the library is more home than home is. When he enters the apartment, hushed and hollow in the late hours, he finds home cooked meals in the fridge, little love notes stuck to the saran wrap. He wonders when he last told Kurt he loves him, when they last spoke of love, in love, or touched. He traces the fine lines of Kurt’s looping handwriting, fingers hoping to catch a hint of warmth, hurting because he just can’t feel it.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

October has always been Blaine’s favorite month of the year. Fall isn’t nearly as showy in New York as in Ohio, but he does his best to recreate the feeling of fall. He buys potted mums for their window garden, brings home gourds of all shapes, searching for patterns he knows Kurt will like.  When he unwraps the pumpkin spice muffins Kurt baked for him, the taste is so familiar, it fills his mouth and it feels like home. Kurt has baked him these muffins for years, since high school. The falling leaves and quickening air and the heaviness of ginger and cinnamon on his tongue flood him, and for a moment, he misses Kurt, misses him and has to excuse himself from study group because there are tears in his eyes.

When he comes home that night, he crawls into bed where Kurt is curled around his pillow. Kurt’s told him it’s because he misses Blaine’s smell, misses falling asleep with him. Blaine had laughed when Kurt admitted this, the kind of laugh that was kind, eyes squinting and fingers tangling into Kurt’s bed mussed hair.  He never wakes Kurt when he comes home late, and Kurt always rises quiet, moving softly in the morning sunlight, but Blaine is a light sleeper, and sometimes he wakes. Wakes for a quick kiss, a small exchange about plans for the day, before tumbling back into sleep.

But tonight, he needs more. He leans over Kurt, kissing the corner of Kurt’s slack mouth, running a hand down Kurt’s spine, and Kurt is waking into his hands, back arching and stretching like a cat. He’s warm and soft and when his mouth opens for Blaine, Blaine thinks he can taste a touch of October, cinnamon sweet, deep in the corners of his lover’s mouth.

When he rolls, bringing Kurt over him, opening his legs and his eyes are wide in the dim light of their bedroom, he’s wanting, wanting so much, because it’s been a long time since he’s felt like he’s Kurt’s, since he’s wanted to be taken, sublimated and eviscerated by Kurt’s fingers and hands.  But Kurt just smiles, pulling away a little, before he’s sliding down, tracing hard lines with his nails and tongue, up his thighs and over his cock. Blaine lets himself ride it, unspool gently while waiting. His sigh is relief when Kurt pauses to grab a small bottle of lube, and soon enough his thoughts have broken down to the simplest wishes and needs. Its yes, yes, and more please, and ohmygod yes Kurt. When he feels Kurt’s finger slip inside him, he’s beyond words, so far beyond, and Kurt is working him so hard, frantic and fierce and when Blaine comes, it’s with eyes closed, fingers in fists over his eyes, reduced to syllables and vowels.

He doesn’t think until later, doesn’t realize what happened. They’ve known each other long enough to speak a language of touch, and Blaine is sure Kurt knew what Blaine had been asking for. It wasn’t a complaint, really, but puzzlement. Blaine wonders how deeply Kurt has been feeling this distance between them; Kurt has been many things- reserved and careful, loving and needy, desperate and guarded. Intimacy has always been difficult for Kurt, who feels so much, who has always hurt so deeply he guards himself with precision.  Blaine has always treasured the moments when Kurt was just that open, so ready to trust, safe enough to let go of those last boundaries, to be a physical part of what they are together, KurtandBlaine.  He wonders when Kurt will feel safe enough to be that vulnerable with him again.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Blaine comes home one night, shoulders dusted with snow. It’s mid November; it feels too soon for snow, but Blaine has never minded winter weather. He’s always thought snow was a sort of gift, the only thing that makes the frigid air and the grey skies worth it.  He’s smiling- it’s early enough that he finds Kurt still awake, curled under a heavy blanket, highlighting text in a thick book.

“Hi.” He drops next to Kurt; Blaine’s lips are cold when he kisses him.

“Hi.” Kurt breathes against his mouth, smiling.  Seeing Blaine’s coat, he frowns and Blaine shrugs out of it, standing to hang it, retrieving the plastic bag he’d set by the door.

“I got you a present.” His voice is smiling, and Kurt looks up again from his textbook, and seeing the bag, makes grabby hands for it.  Kurt’s hair is falling, glasses slipping down his nose. He’s wearing one of Blaine’s Henley shirts; he looks young and comfortable.  He opens the bag to find several wedding magazines, and smiles up at Blaine.

“Thanks.” His words are sincere, but there’s something straining in Kurt’s face, something tight, and Blaine wonders.

“You haven’t said anything, and I hadn’t seen you working on anything.”  Normally, Blaine would have expected Kurt to dive into wedding planning feet first, or head first, or really, any part of his body that got wherever he wanted to go first. But with the way things had been, and Burt being ill, it had seemed natural that they’d put off talking and planning.  But it had been months, and Kurt hadn’t breathed a word about their engagement, about a wedding. No plans or swatch boards, no magazines and happy chatter. They were busy, yes, and on separate schedules that interfered phenomenally with their lives.  But it was becoming unnerving, the silence.

“No…but thank you, this is nice.” Kurt’s voice is hesitant, and Blaine can feel the bottom of his stomach as it drops.

“Kurt…you still…I mean-“

“Oh! No, I mean yes!” Kurt reaches for his hand, gripping tightly, “Of course. I was just…waiting.  I just want to be sure that you…really want this too.” Blaine looks at Kurt, really looks. He wonders if Kurt’s been waiting, through the silence and initial anger, through this strange separation they haven’t chosen but haven’t worked especially hard to overcome.  It hurts to think of Kurt, waiting patiently, perhaps imagining the day that Blaine might come home and say that it was just too much, leaving behind an empty ring and an apartment too full of memories.

“Kurt.” His hand is on Kurt’s face, their foreheads touching, “I will never want anything else. I’m sorry if you’ve been worried. I just…” He’s not sure how to continue, but Kurt is. Kurt is so often sure, so many times the stronger half of their whole,

“You need time. I know.”  Kurt’s nose brushes against his and Blaine smiles a little, tears prickling the corners of his eyes.

“But that doesn’t mean I don’t want this, that I’m not excited. That we can’t talk about it.”

“I know.” Kurt kisses the tip of his nose; Blaine’s face feels cold where his skin was touching Kurt’s. “We will. It just needs to be right, we need to be right. It’s going to be a while anyway- before I’m done with school and you have law school. I doubt your parents will pay if you run off and marry me, hmm?”

Blaine closes his eyes because that might be true, but fuck, it’s so far away.

“Maybe, I don’t know.” His voice is softer than usual, and Kurt’s laugh is fond. “We’ll figure it out. We have forever, right?”  This kiss is full of tenderness, and when Kurt slips away it’s with a smile and then he’s back to his textbook, feet worming their way under Blaine’s thigh. Kurt’s feet are always cold, even in socks and a blanket. Blaine shifts, pulling the tv remote over, settling against the couch. There’s so much left to say, but he’s not sure that he’s ready to say anything just yet.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

December is the fastest month; they juggle trips home and final exams, a crippling snow storm that holds everything up infuriatingly.  Blaine has become close with his study group, and as the year ends he and Kurt attend a party held by one of the girls, Melanie.  There’s too much alcohol, and Chase is there. Blaine spots him from across the room and is petrified for a moment, frozen by the certainty that he might throw up. Kurt feels him stiffen and gives him a curious look. He’s never told Kurt who sent the picture, and Kurt has never asked.  They pretend it doesn’t exist, at least with each other. There are times when Blaine can’t help himself, he looks and looks and wonders how long it will take until the image won’t burn it’s way through his body.

He thinks that maybe one day, he’ll look and it will be done. It won’t hurt, and he’ll know. He’ll feel the forgiveness and ending, cool like a balm under his skin. One day this picture won’t matter any more and he thinks that when that happens he’ll be able to delete it, to turn away and take Kurt’s hand and they will never look back.

Chase is a specter on the outskirts of every conversation he has, Blaine feels his presence in the room, swallows it and it sits like lead in his stomach. Kurt stays close the whole night, reading the careful tremors that run under Blaine’s skin. Kurt wonders, distressed, sensing a sort of seismic shifting in the air, anticipating the earthquake to come. Blaine drinks, heavily.

At half past one, Kurt excuses himself to use the bathroom. It’s too hot in this cramped apartment, which is making him antsy and irritated. When he comes back, he finds Blaine close, too close, to another man on the couch they’d been sitting on together. Marcus? Marvin? Kurt can’t quite remember his name, he’s a friend of a friend and Blaine and he are talking animatedly. Blaine glances up at Kurt and there’s this look, a sort of smirk, before he turns back to the other man. He’s too attentive; all eye contact and touching this man’s sleeve to make a point, and oh, Kurt is livid.

He waits Blaine out in near silence; when the party begins to break up around two he finally moves.

“I’m tired and we have to pack tomorrow, come on.” He’s trying to be patient; Blaine is very drunk.  By the time he’s pried Blaine off of the couch and stuffed him into a coat, Kurt’s patience is wearing dangerously thin. Words are cluttering his brain, he’s been reminding himself that Blaine is still upset, that he has a right to be because Kurt fucked up first. But he’s still angry, and really, below that anger is hurt. Because he fucked up, he knows, but he never meant to hurt Blaine. He never set out to create any part of this mess; he’s just living in the wreckage of his actions and hoping to find his way from under the rubble one day.

But this, this is purposeful. Blaine’s smirk and his way of becoming too open, too touchy when drunk; Kurt knows it’s punishment. It’s a quiet but emphatic fuck you. Blaine’s way of showing Kurt what it feels like.  And he wants to yell at him, get up in Blaine’s face and into his space and under his clothes so he can feel his words hitting Blaine’s skin, sinking in where Blaine will know.  He wants to ask if Blaine hurting him on purpose makes anything better. If Blaine realizes that Kurt hurts every day, feeling the stinging of betrayal and broken promises he’s responsible for; he wants to ask, when is enough?  He wonders at the nights he’s cried himself to sleep, alone, knowing how much damage he’s done, how badly he’s hurt Blaine. Kurt wants to hold him, hard, fingers bruising and whisper, it’s not worth it. Hurting the person you love will never be worth it. But he can’t speak, so he struggles to get Blaine home, and in bed, without words.

In the morning, Blaine will stumble through an apology, voice thick and he’s so hung over, Kurt doesn’t have the heart to press.

“Will hurting me make you feel better?” His hand is open on the warm expanse of Blaine’s back. Blaine turns his face from where it’s buried in the pillow, keeping his eyes shut against the bright sunlight.

“No. I don’t know. I wish something would.” Blaine winces, the honesty is unexpected and he regrets it when Kurt’s hand flinches away. He can’t look, can’t look up into the too bright room and see what he’s doing to Kurt, but he hears it in Kurt’s voice which is a little strangled in a way that Blaine knows means tears.

“I do too.” Kurt leaves behind a smell of comfort and familiarity, the room is empty and large around Blaine. He hurts everywhere and wonders why he can’t just let go, why he insists on deepening this wedge between them when all he wants is to be closer; when all he wants in his life is Kurt.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~~*

January finds them wrapped on the Hudson-Hummel couch, laughing with Burt and Carol, Kurt throwing popcorn at his brother across the room. Finn’s girlfriend Stacy is an absolute darling, Kurt and Blaine both agree that she’s definitely what Finn needs. When the ball drops Blaine kisses Kurt, mindful of the others in the room, squeezing their interlaced fingers together, hard. It hurts, pressing their ringed fingers like this, but they both smile, Kurt’s head tipping against Blaine’s shoulder. When he sighs, it’s with his whole body, and Blaine smiles. It’s a new year, fresh with limitless possibilities.

When Kurt stands to start cleaning the room, he’ll see the imprint of Blaine’s ring, a red line deep in the skin of his middle finger.  He stands in the dark kitchen, lit in the wash of light from the hallway, tracing the groove over and over, wishing for a better year.