Kurt tried not to think about it. Tried to occupy his time with everything and anything—just to keep his mind busy. He stayed at work later, went to bed earlier, and even agreed to go on a few shopping trips with Selma, Josh's senile mother. But nothing worked. The phone still rang—like it did every day, without fail. Kurt stared at the time at the bottom corner of the computer screen.3:59 PM. Kurt sighed and looked toward his cell phone, any second now.

It wasn't easy for Kurt, but he couldn't do it. As much as his heart had begged him too, it just wasn't something that he could bring himself to do. It had taken weeks for the marks from that late night escapade to fade, but the memory was still crystal clear in his mind.

"Kurt…I can't stand not being with you. No matter how hard I try, I can't stop thinking about you, even after the thing at the office. Even if we say that we'll stay away from each other or whatever, I know I won't be able to. I'm always going to chase after you, now that I know that you're here. I—I know it's wrong but I just can't let you go like that."

"Blaine, it's not that easy."

'What isn't?"

"Everything."

"Kurt…"

"I can't do it Blaine, I'm sorry. It was a mistake."

"Stop saying that, it wasn't a mistake." Blaine replied, his voice hoarse.

"I can't do this to him, and I know you can't either." Kurt whispered.

"Stop running away from this Kurt. You want this, I know you do!"

Kurt could hear Blaine's fist slam hard against a surface. "I'm sorry…"

"Kurt, don't."

Silence.

"Kurt? KURT?"

Kurt blinked. That was the last phone call—the last phone call he answered anyways. The phone hadn't stopped ringing since then. Everyday, 4:00 sharp. Just like clockwork.

It wasn't that he didn't want to answer the phone. He was afraid to. He didn't know what came over him every time he spoke to Blaine—it was like the whole world stopped, like it didn't even exist. When he was with Blaine, nothing mattered. It was just the two of them, together, without any worries. No responsibilities, no obligations, nothing. But that wasn't true. None of it was. Kurt knew it, and he hoped Blaine did too. Both of them were in a committed, serious relationship. It wasn't like they could just run off together without any consequence or whatever—It just couldn't happen.

Kurt sighed and leaned back in his chair. The light was gently streaming into the office, slightly illuminating the dimly lit room. Gentle murmuring could be heard outside of the office, as people discussing newly written articles, and gushed about the latest gossip in the fashion world. Kurt looked around the room, trying to bring himself back to reality, shaking the thoughts out of his mind.

He glanced back down at the time at the bottom of the computer screen, 4:07.

Blaine was never late. Kurt had received dozens and dozens of phone calls, everyday for the past few weeks, and he knew Blaine would call at exactly 4:00, right on the dot. Kurt furrowed his eyebrows, picking up his cell phone and checking for any missed messages or voicemails. Nothing. Was he out of battery? Was there bad signal? Kurt turned the phone around in his palm, and let out a deep sigh. What am I doing? I don't answer when he calls, but I'm upset that he doesn't?

"Damn it!" Kurt cursed out loud, slamming his hands against the desk. He stood up from his desk, grabbing his coat off the chair, and strode out the door.

The bubbly blonde secretary jumped a little at Kurt's sudden entrance into the main office.

"Kurt? Where are you going?" she asked, as Kurt walked by her.

"Kurt…? Are you going to come back? You have a meeting in an hour with—"

The elevator doors opened—shockingly fast—and Kurt stepped in, the desperate calls of the secretary drowning away as the double doors of the elevator closed.

Blaine glanced down at the wrinkled scrap of paper with Kurt's phone number scrawled on it. He didn't even know why he still kept it—at this point he could probably recite the number backwards, forwards and upside down if you asked him to.

Blaine crumpled the paper in his fist and tossed it into the wastebasket. He threw himself onto the couch, and rubbed over his face with his palm, feeling the scratchiness of the stubble forming on his face.

He wasn't calling today. What was the point? Hearing Kurt's voicemail for the millionth time?

Blaine wasn't stupid, he knew why Kurt wasn't calling him back—or let alone answering his calls. They were both in relationships, they were both busy with their work, and—whatever, but for some reason, none of it really mattered. Blaine's mind pretty much revolved around Kurt now. It was hard for him to think about anything else.

Blaine stared up at the ceiling. Nope, not calling today.

Blaine slowly sat up, letting out a deep sigh, staring at a half finished painting propped up on an easel in the center of his living room. The slight outline of Kurt's jaw, the bright blue of his eyes, and the pale color of his porcelain skin—the painting hadn't started out as Kurt, but everything Blaine did now-a-days somehow always ended up resembling him in some way, shape or form.

Blaine picked up the painting from the easel and walked it back to his studio, setting it down against the wall. He looked at it, squinting his eyes a bit as he glanced over his prior brushwork. Should he just finish it? Blaine looked over at the small stack of sketches of Kurt he'd compiled over the last few days—none of them completed either.

Blaine slumped down onto his stool, grabbing a few clean brushes from his desk and moving the half finished painting to a new easel. He squeezed his eyes shut for a moment, before starting to mix new paint on his palette.

As he raised his arm to do the next brush stroke, he heard the sound of the doorbell ring.

Blaine groaned. The world just didn't want him to finish the painting did they? He threw down his paintbrushes in frustration and slowly shuffled to the door. It had to be Cynthia. He'd been putting off his new painting selections—again. It'd been so long since he had enough 'good' pieces for a gallery showing in a while. He ended up having to cancel his gallery showing last week, being unable to scrounge together enough suitable pieces. Blaine seemed to have lost his passion. It was getting to the point where he couldn't even come up with any reasonable excuses to tell Cynthia anymore. I've been busy—doing absolutely nothing, or I didn't have enough time—with me not having a real job or anything. Sometimes he even went with the infamous There was nothing to paint—besides the half dozen of models you hired, and the rich New York landscape outside my windows, clearly visible through my huge glass windows.

Blaine opened the door, letting it swing open, and leaned up against the door frame. He looked up about to say something along the lines of "I'm painting right now I promise…" or some excuse like that.

Blaine's hazel eyes met bright blue eyes staring back at him.

"Ku-Kurt?" Blaine stuttered, hand flying up to rake through his curly hair. "What—what are doing here?"

Kurt's face was unreadable, "You didn't call," he answered simply.

"But…" Blaine began.

Kurt took a deep breath before lurching forward, cupping the shorter man's face in his hands and kissed him hard, pushing him into the apartment, and slamming the door shut behind them. Kurt backed them up until he was pressing Blaine up against the nearest wall, resting his forehead against the shorter males, the two now breathing heavily.

"You didn't call…" Kurt said again in a whisper, looking deeply into Blaine's eyes, their foreheads still pressed against each others.

"I'm sorry" Blaine whispered back, tangling his hands into Kurt's hair and kissing him back roughly, pushing off the wall and maneuvering them to the living room couch.

Kurt lay against Blaine's warm chest, feeling it rise and fall with every breath he took.

"This can't go on forever." Kurt stated firmly, propping himself up to look at Blaine.

"Yeah, I know." Blaine replied, reaching out to brush some hair away from Kurt's forehead.

"It has to stay casual…till we get it out of our systems, you know?" Kurt said with a sigh, lying back down against Blaine.

Blaine nodded, resting his chin on Kurt's head, and wrapping his arms around him. "Okay..."

"And when we both say 'I do' all this ends."

"Of course."

Kurt sighed. "This is just for a little while, okay?"

Blaine murmured an agreement, and leaned down, brushing his lips against Kurt's, running his thumb against Kurt's cheek. Just for a little while…

Kurt snuggled up against Blaine's strong embrace. This really was just temporary. So that he could get his sanity back. So he could stop wondering 'what if…' He loved Josh, he really did. This—this was just a short-term thing. He could stop whenever he wanted.

"What are you thinking about?" Blaine asked, smiling gently.

Kurt chuckled softly, "Nothing, nothing. Everything's fine."

Blaine closed his eyes, nuzzling against Kurt's warm body. "Hmm…good."

Kurt stared out the taxi car window, watching the small water beads roll down the window as the light rain tapped against the window. He was almost scared to check his phone, knowing there'd probably be about a dozen messages from Lucy about missing his important meeting with the Milan people, and possibly a few messages from Josh wondering where he was. He glanced at the taxi clock. 8:32. He didn't know he'd spent that much time at Blaine's. Time kind of just…flew by.

"Thank you." Kurt said to the taxi driver as the car came to a halt, handing him a couple of bills, before climbing out of the backseat of the car.

Kurt had trouble suppressing a smile as he went up to the penthouse, and unlocked the door.

The penthouse was dark, as usual. Josh was typically either doing work in his office or taking a nap after a long day of work.

Kurt walked over to Josh's office door, and lightly knocking on the door. "Josh? Are you in there?"

"Oh, come in babe!" Josh's muffled voice replied.

Kurt opened the door, and saw him hunched over his desk going over a few papers.

"Still working?" Kurt asked with a smile, raising an eyebrow. "I thought you promised you'd keep the work stuff at work."

Josh smiled, the tired lines on his face showing. "I'm sorry Kurt, I know I'm supposed to be relaxing at home, but it's hard with the Paris time difference, I got to get this stuff done. I'll be finished soon."

Kurt nodded.

"C'mere." Josh said, tugging Kurt down and giving him a gentle kiss.

Kurt forced a sweet smile, hoping to hide the guilt on his face. It's just for a little while.

"Don't stay up too late okay?" Kurt said, before walking out of the office.

Josh nodded, and turned back to his work. "Got it, got it."

Kurt walked into the kitchen, and poked through the leftovers before setting for some chow mein from the Chinese take out they'd gotten yesterday. Kurt pulled up a chair, and ate silently in the dimly lit kitchen, glancing out the windows every now and again. Kurt pushed all his thoughts out of his mind, worrying about nothing except how many calories he was probably ingesting right now.

Sure it was lonely sometimes, but Kurt got used to it. He knew it was hard on Josh to move all the way to New York for him, but a dinner together every now and again would be nice. Kurt knew late dinners has dastardly affects on his figure, but that's what he'd have to do if he wanted to spend it with Josh—even then they weren't a guarantee. Sometimes Josh was just too busy to eat altogether, and Kurt would end up poking at leftovers, alone in the kitchen.

He felt his cell phone vibrate, and slowly fished it out of his pocket.

It was a text message from Blaine.

Kurt read the text message, and then over again. He let a small smile escape from his mouth. He had this sort of tingling sensation in his stomach. That wasn't—that wasn't butterflies was it? No. Couldn't be.

"Babe! You're out of shampoo!" Danny yelled from the bathroom.

"There's some under the sink!" Blaine yelled back, trying to focus on his painting.

"All you have is that weird girly smelling one!" Danny's muffled voice screamed again.

Blaine rolled his eyes, setting his paintbrushes down again, and yelled back, "Why don't you just shower at your place then? And quit insulting my shampoo! It's Awesome! How do you think I get my hair so freaking voluminous?"

When Danny didn't reply, Blaine smirked and went back to his painting. Thought so…

Blaine and Danny had always been like that, constantly teasing, and messing around. With someone as immature as Danny, it was almost unavoidable. He was charming though—a little too charming sometimes, and got under Blaine's skin. Models…so typical. Blaine won't lie, it was definitely the pretty face that attracted him in the first place, but Danny was also the only person to drag him out of his depressed, dark, lonely state he was in. Though he was a bit overzealous and wild, he was also passionate, always bright, and he kept Blaine on his toes.

Blaine bend down to grab another tube of paint when—

"Holy shit Danny" Blaine cursed out loud, dropping his palette, and letting it clatter loudly to the floor.

Danny stood at the doorway of the studio, a hand on his hip, completely naked and dripping in water, unceremoniously flashing Blaine a smirk. "Hey…"

"Danny what the hell! Go put on a towel or something!" Blaine said, trying not to laugh, and pretending to shield his eyes.

"You didn't have one…" Danny replied, looking down at his own wet body and raising his eyebrows a couple times.

Blaine rolled his eyes and got up, pushing past the naked man in the doorway to a small cupboard in hallway, tossing him a towel. "Here, dry yourself off mister tall-blonde-and-Abercrombie."

Danny caught the towel and dried his hair with it. "Can't stay the night, I got this thing I got to do."

Blaine raised an eyebrow. "Thing? Please tell me you're not still working at—"

Danny rolled his eyes, "Babe, it pays good money, and it's not like I'm a stripper or anything okay? It's hard to find work right now, and we have shit to pay for."

Blaine's voice got a little softer. "I don't like the idea of you working there."

"I'm a waiter Blaine…so what if it's to a bunch of horny chicks who don't know I'm gay? It's money—and right now we need it." Danny said, walking to the bathroom and shrugging on a tee-shirt.

Blaine turned and went back to his studio. "Whatever…do what you want."

"Hey! At least I'm supporting us!" Danny yelled back. "You haven't even finished a painting in weeks! Let alone sell any."

Blaine glared back at Danny. "Just go Danny, I can't deal with you right now."

Danny shook his head. "Fine…I'll see you tomorrow."

Blaine watched as Danny grabbed his stuff and headed out the door.

"Yeah, whatever…" Blaine grumbled back, shuffling back to the studio.

Blaine hunched back onto his stool, trying to calm himself a little bit. He knew he shouldn't be upset, he'd known about this new job Danny had gotten a couple of weeks ago, but he still…he didn't like it. They'd argued about it a couple times, but he had to face the facts, money was starting to get tight around here, and Blaine didn't really have the heart to bug his parents for money after the whole dropping-out-of-law-to-go-focus-on-art thing. But still…it didn't mean it didn't piss him off…

He glanced at his painting. Kurt. He couldn't help but smile as his eyes traced around the perfect outline of Kurt's face, and his bright blue eyes that always sent Blaine's heart fluttering. Blaine chuckled to himself—just looking at a half-finished painting of Kurt make his heart race a little faster, and all other thought just disappear.

Blaine smiled, and reached for his phone, staring at it for a moment.

He finally opened it up, and decided to send out a text message, grinning as he typed it out.

Kurt, you're really beautiful you know that?

Just thinking about you makes everything

seem better, brighter. I can't get you out of my

mind, and you know what? I don't mind. See you soon?

~Blaine