Blaine can tell Kurt doesn’t like Ryan very much, even though Kurt goes out of his way not to let him know. The thing is that Blaine is extraordinarily adept at reading people and how they feel about each other. He does appreciate that Kurt is so careful, even when Ryan is not around, to be neutral. It makes it easier to think about what he’d say, were he ever to take Kurt up on his offer to talk.

Ryan, on the other hand, has no qualms about letting Blaine know that he doesn’t approve of Kurt.

Blaine often wishes that he could put a finger on the moment when things went from easy and good to... well, this. He doesn’t understand himself or Ryan or how they’ve ended up like this. And he doesn’t know why he feels it so much - how deeply it hurts him when Ryan is hurting; the need to protect him from any sort of disappointment. He has a visceral need to take care of and carry the weight of Ryan’s emotions.

He tries but can’t understand the way he can love Ryan and still want to run away; the guilt he carries alongside the crushing weight of responsibility. Ryan’s needs and emotions are a weight yoking his shoulders. Blaine knows that he’s a bad boyfriend; there are these small, selfish pockets of him, pushing and pressing against his temples and gut, that want someone to take care of <i>his</i> feelings. Places inside that ache for a moment when Ryan isn’t at the forefront of every thought and consideration.

Because he is. Blaine spends his days with Ryan in a state of constant panic. Will Ryan approve of what he’s wearing? Is Ryan angry that he’s joking with Jeff again, or talking about that night that he and Kurt watched old episodes of Project Runway and laughed their asses off? And, god, how is he going to tell Ryan about his new job, which includes mandatory weekend shifts?

This is why Blaine loves weekdays. Even though he still carries a lot of worry and stress, weekdays provide him with a little break. Moments when he can breathe, think about other things, other people, and, occasionally, even himself.

It’s almost funny now, the way Blaine knows a fight is coming before anything has even happened. He always tries to prepare himself, tries to find his defense and batten down the hatches. Which is funny really, because it’s always completely fruitless.

Blaine doesn’t know how Ryan does it, but somehow, every time it ends the same way. He’ll start a conversation knowing he’s done nothing wrong and ready to stand steadfast by that belief. But inevitably by the end of the phone call or argument he’s apologizing sincerely, feeling terrible and guilty and confused as hell because wasn’t he right? He’s not, though. He’s never sure how it works, but Ryan has this way of making Blaine doubt everything and turning all of his words inside out and rearranging them, quite often leaving Blaine in doubt of his own sanity.

~*~*~

Thursday night finds Blaine in a sort of panic. He’s come home from his late class to find Jeff in an uproar about something Lisa has done and his room is full of slightly drunk and angry boys playing video games and disparaging all women. They’ve pressed shots on him (which he’s declined politely). For a while he’s having fun and joking around, until he gets a text from Kurt

Thank god this week is almost over. PR + gin night?

He hasn’t even managed a smile before he sees the time, dread settling into his stomach when he realizes it is already 9 and he hasn’t called Ryan. Fuck.

He knows there is no way he’ll be able to have a coherent conversation in his own room, so Blaine decides to call Ryan on his way to Kurt’s.

It’ll be fine, he tells himself, dialing Ryan’s number.

But it isn’t. By the time he gets to Kurt’s room, he’s still on the phone with Ryan.

~*~

“Babe, I’m sorry, I said I just forgot.” Kurt opens the door to a flushed Blaine. His head down, one hand tugging through his gelled curls. Wordlessly Kurt pulls Blaine in, seeing a few of his floor mates eying Blaine curiously. No one has any sense of privacy on his floor, and he knows enough from eavesdropping that Blaine’s disaster of a relationship is spoken of even up here (what? How else would he know what people think about him? It’s so much more fun to judge their catastrophic wardrobe failures when he knows who deserved his most vindictive thoughts).

Once inside, Blaine winces, mouthing an apology and looking so ashamed it actually hurts Kurt a little. He does his best not to listen, which is hard, and not to judge, which is harder. All he can hear on his end are flustered apologies for what seems to be a rather ridiculous argument.

“No, I’m not saying I don’t think about you, I just got distr- ... No, come on Ryan, please don’t be like that, I never mean to worry you, I know…” Kurt bites his lip, fumbling at his computer as if he’s working on something, “No, I know you care about me and you were just upset. But I can’t do anything more than apologize right now.” Kurt turns to see Blaine, eyes shut and hand clenched in a fist on his knee.

“Ryan, please. Please don’t be like this, I’m sorry.” Blaine’s head is tipped back now, eyes staring at the ceiling, “No, I didn’t mean that your feelings aren’t important, of course I care, I just don’t know how to fix this, please just tell me what I can say.” The tears in his voice sound like frustration, frustration and sadness. It’s very hard to keep his back turned and pretend to respect Blaine’s privacy. Nearly twenty minutes of apology later, Blaine’s voice has gone from desperate to make better to hollow and defeated.

“I don’t know what else to say, I’m sorry. I won’t do it again. I can’t- Ryan you promised we weren’t going to do this anymore, I can’t. I can’t keep doing this.” Kurt turns. Blaine is curled up in an arm chair, arms crossed over himself. Kurt starts to stand then stops. Blaine is so different to him, more affectionate and open and casual about touching. He wants to go and sit next to his friend, lay a supportive hand on his arm, but he doesn’t know if that is what Blaine really needs or wants, and besides, doing so would just prove he’s been listening. Even though Blaine must know there’s no way for him <i>not</i> to listen in the small room, the least he can do is extend the illusion of privacy.

~*~

Once he’s finally hung up, Blaine is pretty sure he wants to throw up. Ryan is still upset with him, only Blaine doesn’t know how to fix it and god, doesn’t Ryan know that by now? That Blaine would rather do anything than hurt or upset him; both because it is in his nature but also because the sheer amount of work and energy it takes to make things better is not worth the fight. Ever.

“Bad day?” Kurt’s acerbic tone startles him out of his thoughts, then makes him laugh. Really laugh.

“Yes. God, absolutely, yes.” Kurt stands, pausing behind him to drop a too fleeting hug with one arm around Blaine’s shoulder before moving on.

“Well, do you want to talk? Drink? Go out?” Blaine sighs, eyes still closed. He’s relishing the wave of warmth and comfort.

“Drink, yes. Undecided on the rest?” He knows it’s dumb, how he can’t ever even voice his own opinions without seeking approval, or wanting to be sure he’s not forcing anyone else to do what he wants to do. Even now, when he knows Kurt well enough to know that if he doesn’t want to do something, not only would he not offer, but he’d never go along with it. It’s one of the things Blaine admires so much about his friend- how steady in his skin he is sometimes, how unapologetic and in charge of his flaws- if they can even be called that. Blaine has never felt anywhere close to being that comfortable with himself, opting most often to hide his true self in favor of whatever any situation calls for.

“Okay.” Kurt says easily, reaching above his head for two shot glasses, then into his mini fridge for the gin. “Gin?” He shakes the bottle at Blaine, wrinkling his nose, “We have some tequila too, but it’s the cheap kind.”

“Whatever,” Blaine waves his hand, just wanting to get to that place where he won’t care so much about everything. “You pick.”

“Hm.” He watches Kurt pour them each a shot and leave a can of Pepsi beside Blaine’s. “One of these days you’ll actually express a preference for something, I swear. I have ways of making people bend to my will.”

“Oh, I don’t doubt it,” Blaine responds, admiring the way Kurt’s long fingers flourish in the air as he speaks. “Besides, you know I like Pepsi over Diet Coke, that’s a preference. Which, by the way, I appreciate you keeping around for me.” Kurt’s shrug is kittenish, his smile just a little flirtatious as he picks up his glass, touching it to Blaine’s lightly.

“Here’s to a better weekend.”

~*~*~

By the time they are three shots in, Blaine is draped across the floor, watching Kurt stumble around searching for something elusive (a shirt? A shoe maybe? He’d stopped listening.)

“Kurt. Kurrrt. Kurr- oh fuck.” Clumsily, he scoots onto his side, pawing at his back pocket, trying to extract his phone. “Oh fucking fuck, Ryan why are you calling-”

“Hey!” Blaine rolls over too fast, bumping into the small table housing their shot glasses and narrowly avoids being pelted by them. Kurt backs away laughing, Blaine’s phone in hand.

“Come on Kurt,” Blaine rolls onto his hands and knees, watching Kurt climb the ladder up his bed and shake his head.

“No, no more Ryan tonight, I’ve just spent two hours cheering your ass up after a phone call with him and you won’t even tell me why you need cheering- Blaine, whoa! Careful, what ar- Blaine!” Laughing Kurt tries to roll away, which is futile really, considering the size of his college issue twin mattress, as Blaine stumbles up and onto the bed, attempting to tackle him.

Thinking fast (well faster than Blaine) Kurt tosses his phone in the direction of his chairs. It lands, thankfully, without breaking.

`“No, nonono,” Kurt grabs him and pulls him back against him. “Blaine, come on, let it go to voicemail. Do you really want to answer anyway?”

“No.” Kurt winces as Blaine flops back and rolls on his back. Carefully he lays back as well so they are on their backs, side by side. “But it’s not worth it if I don’t, I’ll hear about it for days.”

For a moment Kurt holds his breath. He’s drunk enough to want to give Blaine his unbiased opinion, but not so drunk that he doesn’t realize this might backfire- especially since Blaine is finally opening up to him.

“I’m so tired.” Kurt shifts, turning to look at Blaine as his friend’s voice cracks. Blaine’s hand shakes a little as it comes up to cover his eyes. “Fuck, I have to go, I’m sorry.”

“No, come on.” Kurt stops him and gently guides his shoulder back down. “You feeling sad?” Blaine snorts a little through his tears, laughing.

“Sad. Yes, I’m sad.” Embarrassed, he sniffles and tries to turn away

“Can I try something? My Dad always used to do this when I was sad.” Seeing Blaine nod, Kurt carefully slips his hand into Blaine’s, lacing their fingers together and lying back so his head is against Blaine’s. For a few moments they lay together quietly. Blaine’s still crying a little, squeezing Kurt’s hand tight in his.

“Blaine, can you talk to me, please?” Kurt keeps his voice muted.

“I don’t know what to say.” Blaine responds dully, closing his eyes and trying to control his tears. He doesn’t know why he is so overwhelmed, but everything feels like a little too much; the way the room is spinning and the way his heart is clenching.

“How about,” Kurt tries to keep his voice low and soothing, “You don’t worry about saying the right thing, or trying to figure out what I want to hear, and just tell me what you are feeling.”

“Overwhelmed.” Blaine speaks fast, without opening his eyes. He tries to focus on the slide of Kurt’s thumb, soothing over his knuckles, and the comforting give of the comforter and pillows surrounding him.

“Overwhelmed by?” Kurt prods.

“Everything. Ryan. Feeling guilty.”

“Why do you feel guilty Blaine?” Kurt shifts imperceptibly closer, trying not to stiffen with surprise when Blaine does as well, moving so his head is against Kurt’s shoulder.

“For being annoyed and angry and frustrated and done with this whole thing. I don’t want to do this anymore. For knowing that it’s wrong to expect Ryan to change, to ask him to change, but staying because he keeps promising he will. For feeling like I hate him and love him and who the hell feels like that?”

“You do.” Kurt lifts his free hand and runs it through Blaine’s hair. “And that’s okay. Whatever you’re feeling, you are allowed to feel it. There’s nothing wrong with that.”

Frowning, Blaine nuzzles closer, ignoring Kurt’s soft gasp.

“That’s not... I mean…that can’t…I can’t-”

“Blaine.” Kurt untangles them, pulls away and looks into Blaine’s eyes. “When Ryan is angry, how do you feel?”

“I don’t understand.” Kurt shakes his head, trying not to be irked by Blaine’s need to be willfully obtuse.

“Let’s say your phone rings, and you answer, and Ryan is pissed. What’s your initial feeling?”

Blaine rolls his eyes, fidgeting uncomfortably. He clears his throat and softly admits, “Panic.”

“And why do you feel panicked?” Kurt’s voice is just a little sharper, just a little more pointed.

“I don’t know!” Blaine tries not to get annoyed or angry, tries not to let his growing discomfort seep through.

“Blaine.” Kurt struggles not to smile, “Are you getting annoyed with me?”

“What, no! No, I swear-”

“Oh my god! Blaine, it’s okay! If you are annoyed with me, be annoyed.”

“But I don’t want to make you mad.” Blaine bites his lip, feeling like he’s two steps from a complicated trap, desperately confused as to what the right answers are.

“Look, I’m a big boy. If I get mad, I get mad. If I’m annoyed, oh well. I’ll tell you and we’ll hash it out and everything will be fine.”

“But what if it isn’t? What if you decide you don’t want to be my friend anymore?” Blaine doesn’t look at him. In the silence, he waits for Kurt’s answer, then finally darts a look at his friend. “What? You look so sad, Kurt.”

“I’m not going to stop being your friend if we have a disagreement or if I get annoyed with you. That’s not how friendship works. Blaine, who taught you these things?”

“What are you talking about?” Nervous laughter filters out of him before he can stop himself.

“Blaine.” Kurt’s voice is softer than he’s ever heard it, it feels like caring and acceptance and Blaine has to close his eyes. He feels Kurt pull him in for a hug, rolling so that he’s pressed against Kurt’s long, toned limbs.

They don’t speak for a long time, just laying together and breathing. When he thinks Kurt might be asleep, Blaine whispers.

“He used to say he was going to, all the time. When we were first together. When I’d make mistakes. And I needed him so much, I was so alone.” Kurt’s arms tighten around him, but he doesn’t speak. Blaine’s mouth is starting to feel dry; he’s dizzy and off-balance from the gin and how comfortable he is, surrounded by Kurt’s smell and warmth. He can feel Kurt’s unasked question, taste his uncertainty in the air, but he’s unwilling to open that door. Not when he’s already unlocked so much he isn’t ready to think about on his own. Cautiously, he wraps one arm around Kurt’s waist, settling himself in more firmly, closing his eyes and letting himself be held.