The first seconds of wakefulness the next day are blissfully blank. Until Blaine wakes up fully and realizes he’s alone. Kurt’s half of the bed is not only empty, but it’s obvious he never came to bed. Blaine sits, moving fast and ignoring the way the movement causes a lightning burst of pain to roll from his head through his stomach. Then he hears it- the sound of the shower coming on, pipes knocking as the rings of the shower curtain clink. Kurt is home. He breathes a sigh of relief, laying back.

Blaine stays in bed and listens to the sounds of the shower, occasional muffled thumps, once hearing Kurt clear his throat. It’s unusual for either of them to shower in silence, they both tend to sing a lot, all the time, and that includes in the shower where the acoustics are more fun. But Kurt is silent. The silence gives way for Blaine, achy and tired and ashamed, gives him time to piece together the night, his behavior.

When the door cracks open quietly, he steals a glance; Kurt is wrapped in a towel and still damp from his shower. For a moment, their eyes meet; Kurt looks exhausted, drawn. There’s something about his body language, something Blaine isn’t sure he’s ever seen before. Kurt seems sad- it’s not on his face which is carefully blank. It comes to him, the word he’s searching for; it’s defeat. And, god, the way that defeat sits on the lines of Kurt’s shoulders makes Blaine want to cry.

“I’m sorry.” His voice is scratchy, tongue dry and too thick in his mouth. Kurt doesn’t move; he’s still and unresponsive. Blaine realizes this is the second time in less than a year that he’s found himself like this, hung over and achingly sorry.

“I know.” Kurt’s voice is soft. He moves to the closet, dressing quickly. Blaine can’t tell if it is exhaustion or hangover, but for the first time, he has no idea what Kurt is thinking.  Kurt without his emotions, so usually everything about him, vibrant and rich and emanating; this impassive Kurt feels like a stranger.  Something twists in Blaine’s stomach, winding and wrapping inside him until he starts to feel short of breath.

“Kurt-“ He sits up, voice a little pleading, but Kurt shakes his head. Finally, something changes, a little bit of emotion seeping through, something a little bitter and a little angry and a lot resigned.

“I can’t-“ Kurt squares his shoulders, his face rearranging into something cold and far away. It’s a look Blaine has seen on Kurt countless times, but never, never aimed at him. It’s Kurt pulling away, Kurt putting a shield up. “I can’t fight with you. I don’t feel like I have any ground to stand on. I messed up. I’ve apologized. I’ve begged. I tell myself to be patient and to wait, that forgiveness and trust take time to rebuild. And I’ll wait. I’ll wait for you to forgive me fully, for us to get back to where we trust each other.”   Kurt stops, takes a breath; hand creeping up to curl around his neck.

“But you aren’t allowed to punish me this way any more Blaine.  If you are upset, you can talk to me. You have to talk to me. If you feel insecure or have a worry, you can come to me and we’ll discuss it. I’ve asked you for this, I’ve asked you to talk to me, to come to me, and you don’t do any of that,” Frustration is leaking through, his fingers are curving and pressing against his throat, “You punish. You pull it all in don’t talk to me and keep it bottled up and then when it comes out- the way…you,”  When tears form in his eyes, his face is almost comical; he looks offended, brushing at them impatiently.

“The way you’ve been acting, it’s cruel.  You do things to hurt me, you yell at me and swear and break things and I’m done with that part. I’ve told you from the start, I’ll do whatever you need me to do to make this better. But I respect myself too much to let you keep going like this, and I respect our relationship too much. We’re breaking this beautiful thing, don’t you understand? And if I keep letting you do this, be this person that you aren’t-“ Kurt breaks off again, turning away to hide his face. Blaine can see the way his shoulders and arms tremble, and he wants to get up and go to him, but he’s seen Kurt like this. He’s seen Kurt draw in and ice Finn out, Mercedes, even his father. There is no way that he can touch Kurt right now.

“I’m not going to push you. I’ve tried bringing this up and you won’t listen. I try talking and you tune me out. I can’t do this alone any more, and I need you to come to me when you’re ready to start talking.” Kurt’s voice is quiet; he’s still turned away from Blaine, talking to the wall almost.

“Ok.” He can’t think of what more to say. Blaine isn’t sure what he is feeling; indignant because Kurt is the one who messed things up. He doesn’t want to be, but he’s angry. Some small and shame-filled part of him whispers that Kurt deserves to feel bad; it’s the part of him that wants to punish Kurt for hurting him so deeply in the first place.  But he’s also ashamed at his behavior because Kurt is right.  He has been awful. His behavior has been nothing short of ugly and small. There’s another small voice in his head, asking, is this who I really want to be?  He doesn’t want to be cruel, but Blaine is stuck, not knowing how to feel the forgiveness he’s telling himself he’s already given.

The rest of the day passes in near silence. They avoid talking, they don’t look at each other. Blaine promises himself that from now on, he’ll tell Kurt when he starts to feel angry. He’ll vocalize his insecurities and hurts when the memory rushes over him, hot and bitter. Fleetingly, he realizes he’s been down this road before, that they’ve been down this road before. Stuck in silence, renewing useless promises to try harder in the future.  No matter how hard he seems to try, things just seem to fall apart, over and over. But he’s determined, stubborn, and he loves Kurt too much to give up now.

Or course, things don’t work the way he wants them to. Blaine can’t seem to make himself work the way he wants to.  The little things, the things that scratch at his skin and push, push him, making him frustrated and angry, or insecure and jealous- they’re everywhere.  Blaine works to ignore them, but they build up. He struggles to dismiss them, but the more they pile up, the louder and more insistent his anger gets.

On a Monday in February, Blaine comes home to find Kurt running lines out loud in the living room.

“What are you doing?” Kurt is gesturing with a sheaf of papers, trying to stuff them into Blaine’s hands before he’s even got his coat off.

“Getting ready for my audition, I need you to help me.”

“Ok ok, calm down.” Blaine laughs, piling his coat over his bag on the floor. He looks over the sheets quickly.

“I’m Link.” Kurt informs him before diving in.  Blaine is scanning the pages, trying to find his spot, smiling because Kurt like this is a treat; flustered, all high energy and drama.

They run through the scene together for a while, until they are interrupted by the sound of the oven timer.

“Oh thank god I’m starving!” Kurt moans theatrically which makes Blaine smile fondly and gather him in close for a moment, before Kurt is pushing him of, smiling his way through complaints about low blood sugar and a ruined dinner.

They talk quietly over dinner; about their day, upcoming tests. Kurt has filed another complaint with their supervisor regarding their leaking window (oh my god if I have to live with a plastic covered window for the rest of winter I’ll go mad, Blaine, it’s so ugly). There isn’t any particular reason that Blaine’s thought drift, but they do, and he stiffens suddenly.

“What?” Kurt was in the middle of a story, but stops when he sees the way Blaine freezes.

“Nothing, don’t worry. What were you saying?” Blaine tries to smile, not wanting to argue.  Words lie heavy on his tongue but no matter how much he tells himself to talk to Kurt, he can’t make them come out. Kurt is frowning; he knows something is going on. But he’d promised Blaine he wasn’t going to push, made it clear that Blaine needed to learn to come to him. There’s a waiting look on his face that Blaine hates. They finish dinner in silence.

They are half way through cleaning the dishes, Blaine washing and Kurt drying in the tiny kitchenette, when Blaine finally steels himself.

“Who else is trying out for the play?” He can’t see Kurt’s face, turned away as he puts dry dishes into the cupboard. His tone is carefully nonchalant; he knows he’s pulled it off when Kurt answers casually,

“I don’t know, I haven’t really talked to any one.”

“Oh, hmmm.”  It’s the best he can do. Blaine knows that Kurt stopped spending time with his friends from the theater troupe in an effort to smooth things over with him. They never talked about it, but Jason’s presence, or the potential for Jason to be present caused enough unspoken tension that Kurt just stopped hanging out with them.

“Yeah, I guess it’s going to be the same old-“ Blaine senses the moment Kurt catches on, shoulders stiffening. He tells himself that now would be the time to talk to Kurt calmly. To explain that he knows it can’t be avoided, that Jason can’t always be avoided, but he just feels so insecure.  His reticence fills the air, the air in the kitchen choking with it, but he can’t. He can’t make himself say any of it.

Kurt doesn’t finish the sentence; they let the silence press in on them, cloying and claustrophobic.  Before he hangs the damp towel, Kurt stops and looks, just looks at Blaine.

“ I won’t try out for the play. It’s not worth it.”

“Kurt-“ But he’s just shaking his head, Kurt is, closing the conversation. Every line of his face and body is knowing, waiting. They don’t need words to say anything now; but that look, the hopelessness, breaks Blaine until he can’t breathe.

“I’m going for a walk.” Blaine gathers his coat, still on the floor, avoiding Kurt; dodging waves of hurting and resentment and uncertainty. He’s winding his scarf too quickly, out the door and pushing into the cold air before he has a chance to stop and wonder what the hell he’s doing.