Don't Keep Your Distance: New Beginnings

Blaine was standing in front of a door. It was a familiar door that he had been in and out of many times – the door to the Hummel's old house. He reached for the doorknob, and smiled when he found that it was unlocked. He entered the house, and was met by the sight of little Kurt, no more than 4 or 5 years of age, running down the hall in a bright pink princess dress, squealing in excitement. He wrapped his little arms around Blaine's legs, grinning happily.

"Blainey!" He greeted, "come and have a tea party with me."

Kurt grabbed Blaine's hand and dragged him into the living room. Blaine went along willingly, laughing at the little boy's enthusiasm.

The pretty porcelain tea set was set out in the living room, along with a tray of shortbread cookies.

"Sit down, please," Kurt squeaked, pulling out a tiny chair for Blaine to sit on. He then took a seat for himself, and grabbed the teapot. "Would you like some tea?" He asked primly.

"Yes, please," Blaine said, smiling at the little boy.

Kurt tipped the teapot over Blaine's cup, but the liquid that came out was clear.

"You forgot to put tea bags in," Blaine said with a chuckle, when suddenly, he noticed a strong and painfully familiar scent. He lifted the tea cup to his nose and sniffed, before turning to Kurt with wide eyes.

"Drink it," Kurt said with an innocent smile.

Blaine was suddenly very aware of how parched his throat was, how much his body craved the satisfaction that the drink would provide. He shook his head.

"Kurt, I can't," Blaine said, placing the cup back on the table and pushing it away from him. "Where did you that? You're not supposed to have that, it's very dangerous."

"Why?" Kurt asked, frowning in confusion. "It's just tea, Blaine. See?"

Kurt grabbed Blaine's cup and brought it to his own lips. "No!" Blaine said, reaching out to try to take the cup from Kurt's hand. But it was useless – his hands scrabbled at Kurt's arms to no avail. It was as if he possessed the strength of an infant.

"Yum," Kurt said, smacking his lips together and grinning.

"Kurt, stop drinking that!" Blaine exclaimed, his voice frantic.

"I'll stop if you drink some too, Blaine," Kurt said with a smile.

"I can't!" Blaine said, staring at the teapot in horror. "I promised!"

Kurt shrugged and brought the cup to his lips again. Blaine's eyes widened in shock as the boy suddenly began to transform right before his eyes. His legs lengthened and his chest widened, the tiny princess dress splitting at the seams as he continued to grow. His cheekbones crept up his face and his small arms became longer and more muscular.

By the end of the transformation, a very 17-year-old Kurt sat before Blaine, the torn scraps of the pink dress barely hanging from his frame.

Blaine gulped as his eyes travelled over the long expanse of Kurt's legs, which seemed to go on forever. The area from his upper thighs to his waist was, thankfully, still concealed beneath the torn pink fabric, but the majority of his lean muscled torso was exposed. When Blaine's eyes travelled up to reach Kurt's face, he found the boy smirking knowingly at him, and he blushed.

Kurt reached towards the table and picked up the teapot, filling up his cup again. He held it in his hands and brought it to his lips, taking a long, slow gulp.

"Mmmm," he said as he lowered the cup. "Tempting, isn't it?" He looked directly at Blaine as he said it, and Blaine's stomach lurched at the expression in his eyes – it was an invitation, and a challenge.

Blaine was filled with a sudden overwhelming urge to take what was being offered. He sat taut in his seat, his muscles straining as the rational side of his brain attempted to fight the feelings of want, need, now.

He turned his head away, staring intently at the plain cream-coloured wallpaper on the other side of the room, willing himself to remain in control.

He heard Kurt shuffling his small chair closer to him, and his heart began to race. Suddenly he felt a soft hand on the side of his face, and despite his attempt to fight against it, it turned his head effortlessly. Blaine found himself practically nose-to-nose with Kurt, staring deeply into his eyes, and he felt so exposed, like he had been stripped completely naked and laid bare, and there was nowhere for him to hide.

Kurt dipped his finger into the cup of vodka and brought it back to his lips, sucking it into his mouth and closing his eyes with a soft moan. Blaine let out a soft whimper. He was entranced, and he swallowed dryly, the feeling of desire stronger than ever before.

Kurt opened his eyes and leaned in impossibly closer, his lips a hairs breadth from Blaine's own. Blaine could smell the vodka on his breath.

"Pick your poison," Kurt whispered, and he slowly extended his tongue and flicked it over Blaine's upper lip.

Blaine jolted awake with a gasp, his body drenched in sweat. He lay still for a moment, the residues of the bizarre dream still clinging to him. "Well, that was sufficiently disturbing," he mumbled, rubbing his eyes as he sat up in bed and glanced grabbed his watch from the bedside table.

7:15 a.m.

He was awake much earlier than he needed to be. He decided to take a shower, and as he clambered out of bed, he suddenly became aware of the throbbing erection between his legs. He glared down at his lap. It's just the morning, he thought to himself. It doesn't mean anything.

Blaine would usually just jerk off in the shower in this situation, but today he turned down the temperature as low as it could go, shivering under the water until his erection disappeared.

As he showered, Blaine gradually became more and more aware of the dull, pulsating headache behind his eyes. Knowing that it would not be relieved by aspirin, he opted to just ignore it and hope that it didn't get any worse. He climbed out of the shower and got dressed in some simple, warm clothes before heading downstairs to kill some time before Kurt got up.

However, when he got downstairs, he was surprised to find that Kurt was already awake, seated at the dining table with a large cup of coffee in his hands. He didn't notice Blaine at first, and Blaine stopped in his tracks, taking a moment to just look.

Kurt's hair was already perfectly styled into an elegant coif. He was dressed in a pair of tight white jeans with a light blue sweater that perfectly complimented the colour of his eyes and greater emphasised the luminous quality of his skin. Kurt took a sip of his coffee and licked his lips, and Blaine immediately flashed back to his dream. He felt a twinge of guilt and unease in the pit of his stomach, coupled with…something else.

Blaine was beginning to feel like a bit of a creeper, so he cleared his throat to announce his presence.

Kurt jumped in his seat, coffee spilling over the rim of his mug. "God, Blaine, you scared me," he said, grabbing a napkin to wipe up the spilt coffee from the table.

"Sorry," Blaine said sheepishly, running a hand through his slightly damp, un-gelled curls. "I woke up early, for some reason. Is…anybody else home?"

Kurt shook his head. "Carole has an early shift today. Dad went to the garage and Finn went with him to help out. I think my dad might have forced him to go so that we could have time to talk, alone."

Blaine nodded, twisting his hands together nervously. "Kurt, I…I'm really sorry about yesterday."

Kurt immediately stiffened, glaring at Blaine with a sudden ferocity that made Blaine's breath catch. "Why are you sorry for yesterday?" Kurt snapped. "Yesterday, you came back. It's the past 6 years that you should be sorry for."

The familiar wave of guilt hit Blaine like a freight train. "I know," he said, his hands already beginning to shake. "Kurt, I am so, so sorry. I don't have the words to express how truly sorry I am."

Kurt got to his feet, grabbed his cup and marched past Blaine. Blaine followed him into the kitchen where he placed his mug on the sink, and let out a long sigh. "I don't want an apology, Blaine," he said, looking Blaine directly in the eye. "I want an explanation."

Blaine could tell that Kurt was trying to keep his voice steady and strong, but he could hear the underlying quiver that betrayed just how close he was to crumbling. When Kurt spoke again, he didn't yell, but the coldness of his words chilled Blaine to the bone.

"I want an explanation," Kurt said, "for how you could do what you did. You came into this family and you made us need you so much, you made us love you, and then you just left. You just abandoned us, like we were some sort of…disposable convenience."

Blaine opened his mouth to speak, but Kurt cut him off. Blaine decided it was probably best to just wait for him to get everything out. After all, he needed to figure out just how much he'd screwed up before he could attempt to fix anything.

"Did you even think of me at all?" Kurt continued. "Did you think of my dad? We fucking needed you. We needed you to be there because we already lost one member of this family and losing you as well was just too much. My dad felt like he'd lost one of his sons, and do you have any idea what I've been through in the past six years? I suddenly lost my best friend. I was tormented at school every single day, and for years I had no friends at all…and, as if that wasn't enough, I almost lost my dad too! The day he had a heart attack…I thought that was it. I thought I was going to be left completely alone."

By this point, tears were streaming down Kurt's face, and Blaine's heart physically ached to see him like this. He wanted to wrap his arms around him, telling him everything would be okay, that he was here, that he would never leave him again.

"You could have helped me," Kurt said, his voice softer now. "You could have been there for me, with the bullying, when my dad was in hospital…but you weren't. You were off in New York, drinking and partying and spending your millions of dollars on god-knows-what. I don't know why we just suddenly stopped being good enough for you, but it fucking hurt, Blaine."

Kurt let out a soft sob. Blaine stepped forward and tentatively placed his hand on Kurt's arm. The boy didn't flinch away, which Blaine took as a good sign.

"Kurt…" Blaine whispered, "Kurt, you don't really believe that, do you?"

Kurt sniffled. "B-believe what?" He asked, eyes trained on the floor.

Blaine placed his hand under Kurt's chin and lifted it gently so that they were eye-to-eye. "Kurt, you could never not be good enough for me," he said. "Never. You're too good for me. I never deserved to have you, or your dad, in my life."

Kurt snorted. "Yeah, right," he mumbled. "Why did you leave then?"

Blaine swiped his thumb across Kurt's cheek, wiping away his tears. "Because," he whispered. "You deserved better. Kurt, I was a mess. I was drinking every day, I was hardly ever sober…you've seen the magazines. You didn't need someone like me in your life. I would only have added to your problems."

Kurt shook his head. "That's not true."

Blaine shook his head. "I wasn't even myself," he said. "It was as if the alcohol turned me into a different person. And that person was nothing but destructive. Trust me, Kurt – it's better that you never knew him."

Kurt was silent for a moment, contemplating Blaine's words. "Why…why did you start drinking?" He asked.

"I don't know," Blaine responded honestly. "I think breaking up with Tom was the tipping point. At the time I thought that was the whole reason, but looking back now, I think it was a lot more than that. I felt like I was under so much pressure from everybody…from the record company, my parents, my fans, everyone. And they all wanted me to be something different, something that I wasn't. No matter what I ended up doing, someone would get hurt, and it was just – too much. And the fact that I hardly ever had time to come and see you and Burt just made it worse. When Tom left…he was my rock. He was the only thing I had that was stable and enduring and honest and I just felt so lost without him. Everything went downhill from there. It sounds so stupid, after hearing what you've been through – fuck. I'm just, I'm not as strong as you, Kurt. I never have been, and I never will be. I'm just a pathetic mess."

Kurt shook his head vehemently. "No," he said. "No, Blaine, don't think like that. It's that kind of thinking that got you into this position in the first place. For as long as I can remember, you've never given yourself enough credit. You're so much better, and stronger, than what you think you are."

Blaine stared at Kurt with wide eyes. How could he defend him with such conviction, after everything he'd done?

"Kurt," Blaine said, shaking his head, "I gave up everything that was important to me just so that I could drown myself in alcohol and make myself numb, because I couldn't deal with the pain. I'm a coward."

"You came back," Kurt said. "That took a lot of courage."

Blaine shook his head disbelievingly. "Why are you defending me?" He asked. "I thought you'd hate me. You have every right to hate me."

Kurt paused for a moment before grabbing Blaine's hand in his. Blaine started, staring at their intertwined fingers in disbelief.

"I don't think I could ever hate you, even if I wanted to," Kurt said. He squeezed Blaine's hand gently. "I don't think that you and I will ever be able to go back to the way we were before. But I would really like for us to start again. To be honest, Blaine, I'm sick of being angry with you. I've been angry at you for 6 years, and I don't want to feel that way anymore. I… I would like to forgive you. For my own sake."

Blaine's eyes filled with tears. "Are…is that what you're saying? That you forgive me?"

Kurt hesitated for a moment. "I think I need some more time," he said. "But I'm getting there."

"Kurt, can I hug you?"

A hint of a smile played on Kurt's lips. He let out a dramatic fake sigh. "Fine, if you must," he said in mock-annoyance, opening his arms. Blaine wrapped his arms around Kurt's waist and hugged him tightly, feeling his heart flutter happily in his chest when Kurt wrapped his own arms around him in response. Blaine felt an unfamiliar warmth his chest, a spark of life that he hadn't felt in many years.

He recognised it as hope.

"Kurt?" Blaine mumbled.

"Hmm?"

"Would you forgive me faster if I grovelled?"

Kurt let out a sudden bark of laughter, pulling away from Blaine with an expression of amusement on his face. "Well, it couldn't hurt," he said with a shrug. "I find that flattery is a good way to go, too."

Blaine grinned. "You're a great hugger."

Kurt wrinkled his nose in distaste. "My hugs, Blaine? Really? That's the best you could come up with?"

"You also have a fantastic complexion."

Kurt smiled. "Better."

Blaine's stomach grumbled loudly, and they both laughed.

Kurt smiled at Blaine bashfully, and Blaine cocked an eyebrow questioningly. "What?"

"I…this is probably a stupid idea," Kurt said, sounding a little embarrassed, "but I couldn't sleep this morning, so I went to the store really early and bought ingredients for white chocolate and macadamia pancakes. I thought we could maybe…"

Blaine's face lit up in delight. "Really?"

Kurt grinned. "Well, it is Saturday today."

White chocolate and macadamia pancakes were Kurt's mom's recipe, and Blaine's favourite food of all time. When he lived in Lima he used to come over to the Hummels' every Saturday morning, and he and Kurt would make the pancakes together, often ending up with more batter on the floor (or each other) than in the pan. Elizabeth sometimes helped them, although most of the time she just looked on in amusement. They'd continued the tradition after she'd died, as a way to remember her – and also because they just really liked the pancakes.

"Did you get ice-cream too?" Blaine asked excitedly.

Kurt rolled his eyes with a smile. "Yes, of course I got ice-cream. Come on, we better get started."

As they worked together, measuring out ingredients and pouring them into a large mixing bowl, Blaine tried to work up the courage to break the silence between them. He felt like he didn't really know Kurt anymore – so much had changed since they'd last seen each other. He wanted to know absolutely everything that there was to know about the other boy, but things were so delicate between them right now. He didn't want to accidentally ask something that might bring up painful memories.

"Pass the sugar?" Kurt asked, and as Blaine handed him the jar, he decided to stop being a baby and just talk to him.

"So…you got, erm, taller," Blaine said. He winced as soon as the words left his mouth. Of course he got taller, you idiot. You haven't seen him since he was eleven. Smooth, Anderson.

Kurt let out a surprised laugh. "Ahhh, yeah," he said. "I had a huge growth spurt last year." He turned to look Blaine up and down, smirking slightly. "I see that the same can not be said for you."

Blaine gasped, affronted. "Hey, it's not my fault I was born petite – why are you laughing?"

"You just described yourself as 'petite'," Kurt said, giggling. "Petite."

"Well, I am," Blaine pouted, crushing a handful of macadamia nuts.

"I'd say you're more…compact," Kurt said, still smirking.

"You're still as cheeky and mean as ever, I see," Blaine said playfully. "At least some things never change – ow! Did you just hit me with a wooden spoon?"

Kurt just stared at Blaine in mock-innocence, expertly twirling the wooden spoon between his fingers.

"Abuse," Blaine mumbled, eyeing the spoon warily.

"I think your nuts are sufficiently crushed," Kurt said, waving at the pile of decimated macadamia nuts on the chopping board.

Blaine snorted.

"Oh my god," Kurt groaned, staring at Blaine in disbelief. "I thought you were twenty-nine, not thirteen!"

"I'm sorry. That was immature. I apologise."

"Good."

They grinned at each other for several seconds before Blaine realised just how natural this felt. He had expected that he and Kurt would take a while to fall back into their playful rhythm, or maybe things would have changed completely – but they really hadn't. Something was different, yes…there was definitely a new dynamic between them now, a sense of cautiousness and mature understanding that hadn't been there before – but they were still Kurt and Blaine.

Blaine blushed slightly as he turned back to the counter, quickly adding the nuts and white chocolate to the mixing bowl before stirring. "These are ready to go in the pan now, I think."

As they flipped the pancakes, they exchanged gentle banter, and Blaine was struck by how completely and utterly content he felt in that moment. He felt, for the first time in 6 years, like he might have something to live for – something to look forward to in the future.

Once the pancakes were cooked, Blaine grabbed the ice-cream from the freezer and proceeded to scoop half the container on top of his enormous pile of pancakes while Kurt look on in horror.

"Blaine, how are you going to eat all that?" He asked as they sat down at the table.

"Easy," Blaine said with a grin. "Like this."

He shoved a huge mouthful on pancakes into his mouth and closed his eyes, letting out a loud, obscene moan. "Holy shit, I forgot how amazing these are," he said, opening his eyes. Kurt's cheeks looked slightly flushed, and Blaine cocked his head with a smile. "Try some."

Kurt lifted a forkful of the pancakes to his mouth and took a delicate bite. He let out a hum of contentment, and Blaine grinned.

"They are rather good," Kurt said, already going for a second bite.

They ate their pancakes in a comfortable silence. A couple of times Blaine found himself experiencing a rush of nostalgia when the familiar taste activated an old memory of he and Kurt eating pancakes in the living room while watching cartoons. He realised that he was now in a position where he could make more of those memories, if he wanted to.

Deciding it would probably be a bad look for him to start crying into his breakfast, Blaine forced himself to think about safer things, like what he wanted to get the Hummels for Christmas. It was only a couple of weeks away, after all.

"Well, I'm finished," Kurt said, putting his fork down and wiping his mouth with a napkin. "That was delicious. And extremely fattening."

"Let's just focus on the delicious part," Blaine said with a smile, getting up to help Kurt clear the table. He felt a sudden jolt in his stomach and doubled over with a gasp, gripping onto the counter for support. Shit.

"Woah, Blaine, are you okay?" Kurt asked, looking concerned.

"Yeah," Blaine gasped. "I think you were right, I probably ate too many pancakes."

"I'm supposed to meet Mercedes and Rachel for coffee," Kurt said. "I could call and cancel."

"No, no," Blaine said, forcing himself to stand up straight and smile. "I'm fine, really. See? Nothing to worry about."

Kurt nibbled on his lip for a moment, still looking slightly worried. "You sure you're okay?"

"Yeah, I'm totally fine. Go hang out with your friends, I insist."

"Okay," Kurt said, still sounding somewhat reluctant. "I'll be back in a couple of hours. If you need to call me, my cell number is on the fridge."

Blaine nodded. "Okay. I'll see you later."

The second Kurt walked out the door, Blaine collapsed onto the couch with a groan. His stomach was churning, and the dull headache from the morning had built up into a strong, steady throb behind his eyes. He could feel the beginnings of a fever coming on, and he focused on taking deep breaths.

He'd known this was coming. He was just relieved that he was alone – he didn't want anyone else to have to witness this.

Suddenly, his stomach lurched violently, and Blaine bolted from the couch into the bathroom. He barely managed to get his head over the toilet bowl before he was violently vomiting up his breakfast. He continued to gag and retch for what seemed for like forever, until he wasn't sure how there was still anything left in his stomach to come back up. Finally, the urge to vomit seemed to subside.

Blaine gasped for breath as he pressed his forehead against the wall, his eyes streaming. He felt like he was seconds away from passing out. He needed to lie down, but he knew there was no way that he could make it up to his bedroom, or even to the living room couch. He slipped down onto the cool tile of the bathroom floor and curled himself into a ball, his body trembling as he broke out in a cold sweat.

Blaine whimpered as his body convulsed. He couldn't remember a single time in his life when he had ever been in this much physical pain. Please, he thought to himself. Please let this be over soon.

Completely drained of energy, Blaine closed his eyes and let consciousness slip away, with the hope that sleep could bring him even the tiniest amount of comfort.