We both know it's coming,

Does illusion count for something we hide?

The surface tension's gotta break,

One drop is all it takes to flood out this lie.

            “Hi.”

Blaine took a step back, ass colliding with the edge of the counter and that's when he realized he was trapped. “What're you doing here?”

            “Rachel…Rachel invited me. She's kind of my best friend,” it was quiet, almost as if he was tired of fighting with Blaine. And in all honesty, who wouldn't be? But he also seemed determined in a way that was just so Kurt that let Blaine know he wasn't giving up that easily. Fuck him. “Can we—can we talk somewhere private? It's loud in here.”

            Blaine shot a look over Kurts shoulder to Christian who seemed to be watching—and didnt do a fucking thing about it. Some friend. He was there when Kurt was trying to get at him in the hospital so why wasn't he there now, when Blaine obviously needed a barrier? When did they suddenly make up and become buddies? "Why? I thought you were in Ohio, thats the only reason I came here."

            “I...I'm going after New Year's.”And fuck him for not paying attention. Fuck him for only picking out the words that he wanted to hear. He heard something about Kurt being in Ohio and didn't even question the timeframe. Didn't even assume that he wouldn't be gone already. “Please can we just go to my apartment? It's right next door. I need to talk to you.”

            Blaine eyed him carefully, taking in his obviously anxious demeanor critically. It couldn't hurt, could it? Couldn't hurt any more than it already had. Blaine's fingers clenched where his hands hung at his sides. “Fine.”

            And Kurt was gone so quickly that Blaine nearly had to run after him. There were so many more people than he remembered. It might have been because when he came in he didn't really pay attention to anything other than the lights and the shitty alcohol. Kurt was fumbling with his key before –rather ungracefully- holding open the door for him. Blaine slipped under his arm, making a desperate attempt to not brush against the other man and failing quite tragically.

            The apartment was exactly what Blaine assumed Kurt would live in. Playbills lined the walls; and really it was almost scary looking at how many there were. How did he come up with the money to attend them all? The maroon couch looked beaten up, but almost lovingly so; Kurt always had a thing for second-hand furniture and it was something Blaine would never understand. And there were pictures. Pictures that made him want to gag himself because they were all Kurt with some other guy that Blaine didn't even have the heart to remember the name of. “Talk. What do you have to say? Before I change my mind.”

            Kurt waved at the worn couch. “Sit. Um, please.” Blaine dropped down on one of the cushions, making an obvious scene of pushing himself as far from Kurt as possible. The other man cleared his throat. “So how are you? It's been…a while since we've seen each other.”

            Blaine clasped his hands in his lap, flicking his eyes from the walls to land on the man before him. “I'm fine. Get to the point, Kurt. You said this would be quick.” And honestly, he really didn't want to stay in this stupid room longer than he had to. Didn't want to be forced to look at Kurt's calm face before him and the disgustingly happy ones scattered across the walls.

            Kurt sunk down beside him, much closer than Blaine would have liked. Blue eyes met his and he wanted to drown himself. “I'm sorry. I'm sorry for everything I've done over the past couple weeks—for everything I've ever done—and I wish more than anything that I could take it all back.” Kurt paused, taking in a breath and watching Blaine like he expected him to say something. Did he? “I want us to be friends. I want to be here for you in a different way than I was before.”

            And God, that's where something snapped. “We tried being ‘friends' and you went and fucked me up. You ruined everything.” Blaine got up off the couch, eyes moving around the room and trying to look at anything besides the man before him. His gaze fell on the kitchen counter and there, underneath a stack of envelopes in the far corner, was his box. He made a dash for the kitchenette, diving for the box and scattering papers in his wake. Kurt's hand reached out and grabbed his arm.

“Don't fucking touch me!” He struggled backwards, stumbling into the island and clutching his belongings to his stomach, but Kurt wouldn't let up. “You did this. And you had no right to take this! It's mine, not yours. You don't get to dictate what I can and cannot own, Kurt!” Everything seemed to blur over; his vision clouded and there was a distinctive ringing in his ears and he just wanted to run for his life. Everything flooded back and it all burned so much worse. Having to watch Kurt sneak away with his release, with his fallback. Sitting in the bathroom and literally carving the life out of his wrists. It all somehow managed to hurt even more now than when he was experiencing it. Memories were a cruel, twisted thing.

            “No. No, no, no,” Kurt repeated it like a mantra, head shaking as he maintained his grip on Blaine's arm. “You don't understand, Blaine, I was trying to help you. You were hurting yourself, what was I supposed to do? Stand by and watch it happen? Because I already tried that and now everything's fucked up.”

            “Everything's fucked up because you fucked it up! I understand perfectly fine, you stole from me. You stole my property! Who gives a damn what I was doing to myself? I certainly don't, and you shouldn't either. You left that behind when you left me behind!” Kurt shouldn't care. It shouldn't matter what Blaine was doing to himself because he shouldn't matter. Blaine took a step back, carefully easing his way around the man before him and heading for the door.

            Kurt was right on him, grabbing at Blaine's forearms and wrenching him back. “Listen to me! You don't think I fucking know that? I've beaten myself up, endured dozens of sleepless nights trying to figure out how to fix this, but you won't even give me the fucking chance. How are you supposed to get better if you won't let someone in? It kills me to see you like this, Blaine. I was in love with you. There's not a single bone in my body that doesn't ache to help you. Maybe everything I've tried has turned to shit so far but…I can't lose you and I won't stop trying until that fear is gone.”

            “You're the one who doesn't understand! I haven't slept properly since you walked away from me. I haven't been able to breathe and be happy since that stupid fucking day in the parking lot where you told me I wasn't strong enough!” his voice cracked at the end, snapping up several octaves. Tears blurred his vision and he felt so weak. “I wasn't strong enough. I wasn't good enough for you and it fucking killed me.”

The box slid out of Blaine's fingers as he squeezed his eyes shut and it clattered to the tile. The glass shards skittered across the floor and he knew that when he looked down, he would be met with those stupid pictures of them. “You're the one who doesn't understand, Kurt. You loved me. I still love you and it fucking sucks.” Blaine looked up at Kurt, taking in a shuddering breath as the tears rolled off his lashes before dropping his gaze to the pictures of them grinning and holding each other and laughing and in love.  

And then Kurt was on the ground, kneeling amongst the broken glass and carefully picking up the strip of pictures. He had a hand over his mouth as if trying to force back the gut-wrenching sob that forced its way out between his fingers. Kurt looked back up at Blaine and smiled a sort of broken kind of smile. “Don't you see, you fucking idiot? I still love you, too.”

Blaine let out a choked off noise as he fell to his knees in front of Kurt, not caring about the glass seemingly pooled around them. Kurt's arms circled his shoulders at the same time Blaine's wound around Kurt's waist. They fit together perfectly, the same way they had four years ago. All he could do was cry into the taller man's shoulder; the shoulder of the man he loved, the shoulder of the man who loved him back.

“We're going to get through this,” he murmured sweetly against Blaine's temple, lips pressing into his hair. “Just like we've gotten through everything else—together.” There was a beat of silence, a beat of Kurt's heart against his ear and he felt like he was home. “Do you remember the Hello Kitty band-aid?” Blaine chuckled wetly against Kurt's throat, giving a little hiccup while the tears didn't seem to want to stop.

“How could I forget? I left that stupid thing on the rest of the week because it made me feel like I mattered. Until I tore out resurfacing chest hairs taking it off, then it didn't feel so nice.” They laughed together; it was light and open and free. They were free. “Remember the crummy corner store?”

“Oh, my God. I think I remember it too well.”

“You can never remember sexy, gross department store dirty talk too well.” He tightened his grip on Kurt's waist, clutching handfuls of the shirt he wore.

It was so much more awkward than it should have been. They were standing in the middle of the aisle –literally smack dab in the centre- of that ridiculously shabby looking drug store downtown. They were only there because the amount of familiar faces to be seen were more than likely in the negatives. The only person they might have encountered was Puck, but considering he practically swore himself off condoms right in the middle of the choir room, even that chance was slim.

“What kind should we get?” Blaine was whispering –why the fuck was he whispering?- fingers tentatively touching Kurt's bicep.

“This is so embarrassing.” The taller boy's face was as scarlet as Blaine had ever seen it, which was really saying something. He was red up to the tips of his ears and down his throat, even into the collar of his shirt and more than likely across his chest. It would have been amusing if they weren't in such an awkward situation.

“Hurry up and pick something so that we can get out of here, then.”

“Why do I have to pick? You're the one who—wait. We haven't even talked about who's—“ Kurt paused, clearing his throat and ducking his head slightly, “bottoming.” It was so silent that Blaine had to strain to hear the word.

“I will. I mean, I'd like to, if that's okay. I know that you're still self-conscious no matter what I tell you and I've been thinking about—“ Blaine broke off with an audible and rather embarrassing squeak, slapping a hand over his mouth and looking up at his boyfriend with wide eyes. Shit.

And of course it didn't slip by Kurt because he was a fucking hawk when it came to the things Blaine hoped would go unnoticed. “You've been thinking about?” When did Kurt get so close? When did his nose end up barely inches from Blaine's own?

“Can we talk about this later?” he whispered, slowly moving his hand to the side.

“I'd really like to hear now, though.” And how Kurt could go from blushing virgin to coy and sexy in half a second was literally mindboggling.

“I'd really rather do this when we aren't standing in some scummy corner store.” It was Blaine's turn to flush to the tips of his ears.

“Blaine,” Kurt's fingertips hooked in the side of Blaine's jeans where they were pulled up over his tucked-in shirt and dragged him closer, “please tell me.”

Kurt's breath was hot in his ear and the fingers seemed to burn a hole through the material of Blaine's shirt. Everything got so hot so fast, and they were still in the store for Christ sake. “I think about your dick when I finger myself.”It all poured out in a rush, tumbling off his lips as if the words couldn't wait to escape and he almost wished he could wrangle them back in. Almost.

Kurt literally purred against Blaine's ear, the fingers hooked in the waistband of his jeans retracting so that he could stuff the hand in Blaine's back pocket. “Good boy.”

Blaine almost passed out.

Their laughter echoed throughout the apartment. “I miss this. I miss us. I miss you. Even if you did crack an egg on my head back during senior year,” Kurt smiled into Blaine's hair.
            “I never ended up getting that flour out of my polo, if that makes you happy.”

“My dad still resents you for getting hot pink icing on his favorite plaid button-up.”

“He had like, three of the same kind. How did he know that one was his favourite? He could have mistaken it. And besides, I did renew his beers.” Blaine couldn't feel his left foot and his admittedly favourite jeans were probably ruined but he didn't have it in him to care. "Remember the paper airplanes at Dalton?"

            They were studying and for some God-awful reason, they settled on the Library of all places; the one room where he was strictly forbidden to do something loud or obnoxious. Maybe that was why Kurt chose it, because he knew the temptation would be too great.

            Blaine stared down at his blank paper with a sigh, pencil tapping against the margin and leaving behind broken little chips of graphite. Kurt also decided it was a spectacular idea to sit across the room from him, so that they wouldn't be distracted. Sunday afternoons were supposed to be their afternoons and Kurt was ruining it with his stupid straight-A-student obligations. Blaine knew Kurt had to work a little bit harder because he wasn't used to Dalton's work load, but because of the fact he himself was already used to it, made his boyfriend's (boyfriend's) studying habits tiresome.

            Blaine tore out the sheet of lined paper, folding it into a paper airplane. He ripped out another, tearing it into smaller pieces and writing on one of them before tucking it inside the plane. Blaine glanced up, eyeing the distance between his table and Kurt's and casting a quick glance around for the bitchy librarian before sending the paper on its way. And to his delight, it made touchdown gracefully on Kurt's textbook, the nose bouncing off the forearm laid out beside it.

            Kurt looked over at him, cocking an eyebrow before slowly taking the note from inside the folds. The harsh glare that was sent Blaine's way nearly made him choke on the sip of water he was taking. The fact that the two silly little words got such a huge reaction was laughable. Blaine knew the ‘You suck' was probably the farthest thing from mature, but that didn't matter.

            Minutes passed and Kurt didn't look like he planned on sending the plane back. So Blaine made another. ‘You're boring' Kurt looked like he was going to burn Blaine with his eyes.

            “Fuck you,” Kurt mouthed at him and Blaine clutched a hand to his chest in mock hurt, scrunching his eyebrows and pushing out his lower lip. The older boy just rolled his eyes, going back to the textbook on the table in front of him and ignoring Blaine.

            So, it was of course, Blaine's job to make everything just that much harder for his boyfriend. He spent the next ten minutes creating a series of different paper planes, pointedly ignoring the sharpened looks Kurt sent across the field of carpet between them. The planes were scattered around Blaine's table, arranged in order from largest to smallest. Each of them had a little note tucked somewhere in their flaps.

            He flew them all in turn, carefully watching Kurt's face as he unfolded them with purpose, all the while glaring at Blaine and setting aside the notes to read.

            When the last plane touched the table, Blaine sat back in his seat and gave a glaring Kurt a triumphant grin.

‘You look cute today'

‘Your ass looks nice in those pants'

‘Get it? Because you always have to wear the same pants because they're uniform. That means your ass can look good in anything'

‘Because trust me, it looks even awesomer in skinny jeans'

‘Yes “awesomer” was on purpose, you grammar nazi'

‘Next time don't forget your jacket, new kid' Kurt smiled at that one, casting a look across the room filled with adoration.

‘I think I'm gay for you' Kurt giggled, pressing his fingers to his lips. And then he started to write his own.

‘I think I'm gay for you, too, you loser.'

“You were so cheesy, you always were. But it was the cheesy things that made up for all the pain.” Blaine hummed and smiled against Kurt's throat. He supposed it was true, in a twisted sort of way.  Kurt chuckled, shifting on the tile and causing the broken glass to crunch unhappily.

 “Oh, fuck,” Kurt groaned, heaving himself off the floor and out of Blaine's embrace. “It's Christmas.”

Blaine followed him up, pulling a face and leaning up on his toes to instead wind his arms around Kurt's neck, sure to keep him prisoner. “Merry Christmas, Kurt.”

“Merry Christmas, Blaine.” His eyes flicked to the taller man's lips. He was fucking psychotic. He was stupid and psychotic and he was an idiot. Barely hours ago they'd been at each other's throats and now here Blaine was about to make a valiant attempt to kiss his past and hopefully future lover. He leaned in slowly, giving Kurt enough time to pull away if he wanted to. Blaine could literally taste the other man's breath on his lips and fuck had he missed it.

And then the door banged open, causing Blaine to start with a yelp, slipping on the glass and nearly tumbling to the floor once again.

“Kurt?” And boy was that ever an unfamiliar voice.

“Aaron?” Shit.