When you're overwhelmed and you've lost your breath,

And the space between the things you know is blurry nonetheless.

When you try to speak but you make no sound,

And the words you want are out of reach but they've never been so loud.

If your heart wears thin,

I will hold you up.

            Blaine felt helpless. Kurt was holding the sides of his head, eyes squeezed shut as he rocked ever-so-slightly. He was shaking from his spot on the pavement, teeth gnashing together as he spat out, “Please, please just get me out of here. Please.”

            Blaine's fingers were twitching and he almost wanted someone to run by and step on them because then maybe he wouldn't feel like he was being such a fucking idiot. “Hey, hey, you're going to be okay. Can I touch you? Is it okay if I touch you?” Kurt inched back and if Blaine wasn't paying special attention, he didn't think he would have noticed it. But he did. “Hey, remember that time we got lost in a department store? You were freaking out. I was freaking out. It was so huge we couldn't find the exit and we were both too proud to ask for help.”

            And then something broke. Kurt let out a broken noise, hitching at the end with a sort of half-cry half-laugh. “You always—you always remember the weirdest things.” He almost wanted to scream with relief; to jump up and down and shout that he was doing this, that he was trying.

            Blaine reached a hand out slowly, trying not to scowl at his shaky offering and managed to pull his face into a soft smile. “You said that then, too, when I brought up getting lost in Wal-Mart with Cooper when I was three.”

            Kurt finally, finally looked up, sniffing loudly and carefully accepting the proffered grasp, thankfully not seeming to notice Blaine's twitching. “What is it with you and getting lost in stores?” He brought up his free hand to wipe at his tears with his sleeve, dabbing at his eyes almost carefully.

            Blaine squeezed his fingers. “You're going to ruin your coat if you keep doing that. You'll regret it later,” he murmured quietly, smile widening. “It's a quirk. I was meant to get lost in stores; it's my birthright. Or something.”

            Kurt dropped his hand with a careful little chuckle and they started their way out of the crowd of people. Some were still watching, others scowling at the disturbance on what was supposed to be a perfect night or whatever delusion they had. “That's one of the things I loved about you.” Kurt wouldn't look at him; he was staring at his feet, very positive that they were far more interesting than anything the world had to offer. “Still love.” It was a sort of whisper that Blaine was almost positive he wasn't supposed to hear. He felt like he was intruding on a personal moment that Kurt was having with himself.

            Blaine turned to him once they reached the sidewalk, fingers reaching out to tentatively brush the soft skin of Kurt's wrist and pull him just that much further away from all the people. “Will you... will you come home with me?” Kurt sucked in a quick breath, eyes widening and Blaine would have stabbed himself right fucking there because dammit, not what he meant. “I just—I mean—Not to like—“ Spit it the fuck out. “I want to look after you,” he breathed, dropping his eyes to the pavement between them and letting out the air he didn't know he'd been holding onto. “Please let me look after you.”

            Kurt's arms wrapped around his own torso as he shifted his weight slightly. “Can we go back to my apartment?” He almost looked like he hadn't meant to say it, but he didn't take it back. “It's closer and I... I want to shower.”

            Blaine reached forward, fingertips resting on his shoulder carefully, worried if he pressed too hard that Kurt might just snap under his touch. He nodded, leaning slow enough that the other man could pull back if he really wanted to, and pressing a quick (but lingering all the same) kiss against Kurt's forehead. “Where ever you want.”  

            How they managed to snag a taxi (well, Blaine did; Kurt just kind of held himself and rocked on his feet) was anybody's guess. The twenty minute ride was actually almost exhausting. The cab was silent save for the constant blab of the foreign driver and Blaine almost wanted to figure out what it was exactly that he was saying; he was awfully enthusiastic. He could feel Kurt watching him, but every time he tried to catch his gaze, the older man was somehow staring out the window instead. It was frustrating, to say the least.

            Kurt was now fishing his extra key from under the mat outside his door (why he didn't have his keys with him was beyond Blaine) and after finally getting the door open he stepped aside to let Blaine in first.

            “Mi casa es su casa,” Kurt said from behind him, sliding the door shut before removing his coat as he flicked on the lights; a skill Blaine really wished he had. Blaine's eyes danced over the room, taking in the pile of blankets on the couch and the mugs left on the coffee table. Somehow it didn't look like they were out of place. Kurt always managed to make everything work in his favour. “Make yourself at home.” 

            Blaine stepped out of his shoes, straightening them on the mat before slipping off his coat. "Its so... clean." His gaze roamed over the bare walls, hovering on spots that still held nails from removed pictures. All the frames that once held photos of him and Aaron were nowhere in sight; he really must have meant it when he said he didn't want anything to do with his ex-fiancé.

            Kurt made a unidentifiable noise behind him, slipping past to scoop up one of the magazines Blaine didn't even realize was there. “Oh, yeah. So clean.” It was so sarcastic and so definitely like Kurt that Blaine almost wanted to cry. And then he sort of hunched in on himself as he turned back around, fingers weaving together as he watched Blaine nervously. “Um, feel free to take a seat.”

            He couldn't have that. He couldn't have Kurt feeling awkward and scared around him. “Cleaner than mine, trust me.” A silence hung between them and Blaine passed him a small smile before sinking down on the couch. “Wanna watch a movie? We could watch a movie.” That was something they could do, they were good at watching movies. If you cut out when they were teenagers and a movie was an excuse to get dirty.

            And then Kurt grinned, smile stretching across his face. But it didn't hit his eyes and if Blaine was someone else, he wouldn't have noticed. But he did. Kurt shuffled over to his movie shelf, rifling through it with deft fingers momentarily before holding up a metallic red case that caught the light. It was a case he was all too familiar with. “Is Moulin Rouge okay? We used to watch it all the time while we were in high school. It's kind of a pick-me-up movie for me.” Blaine wasn't sure if Kurt was telling him or just reminding himself because there was no way in hell that Blaine would ever forget what that movie was to them.

            “That's exactly what I was thinking.” Blaine beamed at him as Kurt turned to slide it into the player. “Great minds think alike. Well, you're the great mind, I'm just a follower.” Maybe he was indulging him just a little bit, anything to pull Kurt back to his feet. But there was a big chance he was telling the truth, Blaine was always the rasher of the two of them.

            Kurt ducked his head as he scurried to the couch, dropping down almost at the complete opposite end in a way that Blaine tried not to feel bad about. The opening cut off the noises and cheering from outside, which was a relief, and left them in their own little world.

            If he was being honest, this was still his favourite movie. He always loved Christian; he loved the way he held himself and how proud he was and how determined he was to get the girl. His soft spot for Ewan McGregor didn't help. Neither did his unfathomable interest in typewriters.

            Somehow he knew that Kurt wasn't paying attention. He knew by the flick of his eyes (a repeat of the taxi ride), the clench and rub of his fingers, the twitch of his socked toes where they were pulled up under him, and the shaking inhale-exhale that Blaine couldn't help but count the seconds in between.

            And then Kurt shifted, scooting ever-closer across the cushions between them as he watched Blaine's face for a sign of movement. He struggled to make it look like he wasn't paying attention even though he was almost positive that Kurt knew he had amazing peripheral vision. Maybe just the illusion he didn't notice was enough.

            He continued to inch his way over the distance of the couch, trying to be subtle but ultimately failing in a way only he could manage. One of Kurt's hands twitched, like he was thinking about taking Blaine's and half of him wanted to offer it up even though he knew that moving might send the other man back across the couch like a skittish cat. He held still, struggling to keep his eyes glued to the flickering television screen in front of him and really pay attention to what was being said.

            They were a foot apart and Kurt stopped moving. Blaine wanted to turn and tell him that it was okay, that he wasn't going to shoo him away or get mad and that it was okay to touch and get close. And then he settled against Blaine's side, pressing their shoulders and thighs together and relaxing almost immediately which in turn allowed Blaine to sink back against the couch.

            Kurt's ear touched the top of Blaine's shoulder before the rest of his head followed, falling into the younger man and trusting. Blaine made a quiet noise in the back of his throat that he was almost sure came out in an embarrassing hum as he leaned his cheek against the top of Kurt's head. And before he knew it, Kurt was asleep, snoring lightly, almost carefully against his shoulder. He deserved to sleep, he deserved to relax and rest and just exist for a little while.

            Blaine couldn't help the smile that took over his face. Kurt was going to be okay.

            “Kurt?” Blaine spun around, eyes trailing around the store. Fuck. They were supposed to stay together, dammit. Kurt had said as soon as they walked in that if they didn't stick side-by-side that someone was going to get lost. And as it turned out, that's exactly what happened. Not even two seconds ago his boyfriend was right behind him and now he was nowhere to be seen and if Blaine was being honest with himself, he could almost feel the panic setting in. He sucked at being lost in stores.

            He pulled out his phone, flicking to Kurt's name with thumb hovering over the call key before letting out a garbled noise of frustration because Kurt left his phone with Blaine. “I can't hold onto it, I'll lose it in my excitement. You know how I get around new clothes.” He was going to be stuck here forever. He knew he could ask for help, he knew that he could just pull aside one of the workers and ask (beg) for directions to the exit like the little baby he was. But he was too proud for that and somehow he knew that Kurt was, too.

            What was he supposed to tell people if he ever got out? Ah yes, once upon a time I lost my boyfriend in Macy's and cried and walked in circles all day, it was the manliest thing I've ever experienced in my whole entire life. Yes because that wouldn't involve years of torment from Cooper or anything.

            So he wandered. He turned, heading (trying to) back toward where he had last definitely seen Kurt, calling his name all the while. How was this even possible? How did one even get lost in a store? In his defense, it was pretty fucking huge, but that still didn't explain how a seventeen year old boy could get lost and lose his boyfriend at the same time. In a department store.

            A few of the employees gave him funny looks as he passed, some raising an eyebrow, some snickering quietly to themselves as if they knew that he was lost. Damn them.

            At one point he almost started whining, pressing the heels of his hands into his eyes and sucking in a slow breath. He was going to complain that they needed to put up signs or something because this was getting ridiculous. There had been a few times when one of the workers asked him if he needed help looking for Kurt or if he needed directions to the exit and of course he just brushed them off with a little smile and said no thanks while continuing on his hunt. What if Kurt was just following him around laughing his ass off like the absolute bitch he was?

            It had been two hours without even a glimpse of coiffed chestnut hair and Blaine almost sank to the nasty, unhappy looking carpet and died. He was pretty sure if he tried hard enough he could think himself into dying in the middle of the store. That was possible, right? Probably not.

            And then he heard his name, the half-hysterical lilt of Kurt's voice echoing over the clothing racks and Blaine straightened up so fast he was about ninety percent certain he pulled something in his neck.

            “Kurt?” he called out tentatively, not wanting to get his hopes up.

            “Blaine? Where the hell are you, you absolute fucking hobbit?” The fact that Kurt was swearing was both a good and a bad sign. Good because that meant that he was just as stressed out about this as Blaine, and bad because... well... it was never a good thing when Kurt swore. Unless they were in the bedroom but he couldn't afford to think about that right now.

            “Keep talking, I'll find you.”

            “I'm going to kill you, I'm going to kill you. I. Am. Going. To. Kill. You.Blaine. Anderson.”

            “Fuck, fuck, get off, don't touch me!” Kurt's scream pierced his ears and Blaine let out a yelp, slipping off the couch cushion and landing on the floor with a thump.

            “Ow, fuck!” He swore he only closed his eyes. He only closed his eyes for two seconds and now he was on the floor and how the hell did that even happen? He must have fallen asleep, too. “Kurt! Kurt, are you okay?” He scrambled to get off the floor, fingers grasping at the edge of the coffee table.

            Kurt was struggling, throat working in a thick swallow as he stared resolutely at his lap and his twisting fingers. “I—yeah. Yeah. Just a nightmare. Sorry.” It was so quiet, so weak and scared and vulnerable that Blaine wanted to cry. Kurt was blinking down at his hands as if he was fighting back tears; he probably was.

            Blaine heaved himself off the floor with a grunt, rubbing his leg with a wince before sitting on the edge of the couch and turning to look at the other man. "Hey, look at me." He reached a careful hand between them, fingertips brushing the skin of Kurts ankle.

            “I'm sorry,” he choked out as the tears pooling in his eyes finally spilled over. “I didn't mean to wake you up.” Was that really what he thought this was? Did he really and truly believe that Blaine didn't care if he was upset? That he didn't care if he had a nightmare and needed someone? He guessed that most of that was his own fault, making the other man feel like he didn't care for all that time that Kurt was trying to make him better. Fuck.

            Blaine lifted a hand, thumb brushing away the tears he could catch before slipping his fingers around to press at the back of Kurt's neck and pulling him closer, cradling his head against his chest with one arm and the other winding around the taller man's waist. Come What May echoed through the room from the television behind them. "Listen to my heart, can you hear it sing? Telling me to give you everything. Seasons may change, winter to spring, but I love you, until the end of time." He tried so hard not to choke on the words but he was pretty sure that he was failing as he furiously blinked at the blurriness filling his vision. This was for Kurt, he wasn't allowed to cry right now.

            “Come what may,” Kurt returned softly, voice catching and breaking but still there all the same and powering through it. “Come what may. I will love you until my dying day.” The fingers that were pressed at the small of Blaine's back tightened in the fabric of his shirt and Kurt's face was tucked firmly under his chin. This was where he belonged.

            Blaine pressed his nose into Kurt's hair, inhaling the familiar smell of mango and coconut and Kurt. “Suddenly the world seems such a perfect place, suddenly it moves with such a perfect grace. Suddenly my life doesn't seem such a waste, it all revolves around you.” It had always been true. Kurt had always been his personal little sun. The four years he went without him was like an eclipse of some sort, or like he was living in the arctic and it was his six months without sunlight. But now he was back, and sure he was a little beat up, maybe shining a little less brightly, but he was here and Blaine wasn't in the dark anymore.

            “And there's no mountain too high, no river too wide. Sing out this song and I'll be there by your side. Storm clouds may gather and stars may collide.” Kurt was sitting up, grasping Blaine's hands and squeezing his fingers carefully—strongly, and his face was so close their noses almost bumped and this was real. “But I love you.”

            Blaine slid his nose along Kurt's carefully. “I love you. Until the end of time.”

            “Until the end of time.” There was a silence that lasted maybe thirty seconds and they were both perfectly still, grasping each other's hands and leaning their foreheads together as if they were the only people in the world. They were the only people that mattered. Blaine honestly wasn't sure what was wrong with him. Not even two days ago he hated Kurt, he hated him for everything he'd done and for everything they'd been through except now he was here and he didn't hate Kurt. No, he always loved him. He really needed to get his fucking mood swings under control.

            “Kurt?” The man in question twitched slightly and Blaine was pretty sure he wanted to tell him to shut up and just bask in the moment. “I really do love you, y'know.”

            Kurt exhaled, breath washing over his lips before he squeezed Blaine's hands. “I love you, too. And I want to stay with you. God, I want to be with you forever.”

            He almost choked. He almost choked and fell right back off the couch because for some god awful reason he wasn't prepared for that at all. Blaine pressed their mouths together briefly before sitting back just enough to look at Kurt comfortably. “I want the same thing. I always have.” Had he? Yes. Yes, he definitely had. Blaine dropped his eyes to their tangled hands, not sure if he was capable of looking Kurt in the eyes as he said what he had to next. “Do you—do you maybe want to talk about what happened the other night? Maybe getting it out will help.”

            And then Kurt was so far away that Blaine found himself blinking stupidly at the space where he had been not even moments before. He refused to look at him, gaze jerking around the room. “Don't—Blaine, don't.” Don't what? Don't care? Don't try? Was he expected just to give up and not give a damn about whatever had happened the other day that fucked Kurt up so bad? Except he had to play this carefully.

            Blaine held up his hands, palms out and eyes wide. “Hey, hey. I'm not going to hurt you, Kurt. Nobody is ever going to hurt you.”

            Kurt still wouldn't look at him. “Somebody already did.”

            “Please, please talk to me. I want to help you.” Blaine slowly lowered his hands, ducking to try and catch Kurt's gaze. “I'm not going anywhere.”

            Kurt just shook his head. “You have enough problems of your own. You don't need my sob story, too.”

            Blaine slid across the couch, touching the other man's knee carefully. “I'm here because I want your problems, too. That's what a relationship is. We share problems.” He was talking before he even realized what he was saying, except it was all true. He meant it all.

            “You won't—I can't—“ Kurt bit his lip, obviously struggling before letting out a resigned sigh. “P-promise you won't do anything like go to the police or—or something, okay?”

            Blaine ground his teeth. Was it really that bad he had to promise not to call it in? Fucking hell. He slid his hand over Kurts leg, grasping his hand once more. "I promise." He already felt like he was lying through his teeth. But he could do this for Kurt; he would do this for Kurt.

            “I was at the club the other night and I met this... guy.” Kurt swallowed. “He seemed nice and he just kept buying me drinks and I accepted them like the fucking idiot I am and the next thing I knew... the next thing I knew....” His words broke off. No. No that wasn't fair. Someone took advantage of him. Someone took advantage of Kurt and part of Blaine died.

            Blaine inhaled slowly, scooting closer still and tightening his grasp on Kurts fingers. “He—he did something to you, didn't he? That's why you called me. You went on and on about some guy and how he did something and I didn't know what.” Even though he already knew, at least had a very vivid idea, he still had to know.

            Kurt nodded, short, jerky little movements. “He drugged me. He drugged me and he dragged me to some spare room and he tried to—“ No. “I couldn't move or think and he just—“ He started shaking, blinking quickly as he tried to stifle back even more tears. “Don't make me say it,” he whispered. “Please, don't make me say it.”

            "Honey, breathe." Blaine struggled to swallow around the lump in his throat. To think of someone doing that to Kurt (his Kurt) made him want to both throw up and hit something at the same time because that wasnt fair. Kurt didnt deserve that, nobody did. "Dont. You dont have to say it. Its okay. Youre okay."

            Except Kurt was pulling away, stumbling off the couch and moving as far from Blaine as he could as he hugged his arms back around his torso and stared directly at the floor. “I'm—I have to go to the bathroom.” He hurried off down the hall, never even sparing Blaine a glance.

            He wanted to find this stupid idiot and he wanted to kill him, screw going to jail. This guy hurt him and that wasn't fair. It wasn't fair to do something like that to someone when they didn't want it, it wasn't fair. Blaine got up from the couch, pacing back and forth in front of the coffee table; Satine and Christian's voices still echoed through the room. Sometimes he wished his life was like a movie because then he would get a script. He would have certain guidelines to follow in order to get his happy ending and he wouldn't do something stupid to mess that up.

            Blaine paused in the middle of the room, eyes landing on the T.V. where Satine was dying, Christian crying and holding her and needing her. He was fairly certain he needed Kurt like that. Blaine jumped when Kurt's phone vibrated on the table and he twisted around to pick it up. He knew he shouldn't be snooping but taking a look at who it was from couldn't hurt, right? Besides, if it was Burt or something (even though he was known to call as he without a doubt still didn't know how to text) he would start freaking out if Kurt didn't answer right away.

            It was an unknown number. Blaine's eyebrows drew together as he swiped his finger across the screen, opening the message.

            if you tell anyone what happened ill kill you

            Without even hesitating, Blaine took out his own phone, quickly putting the number into his contacts (under the name of Fucking Douchebag but who was going to check) and deleting the text from Kurt's so that he wouldn't have to find it. He didn't need anything else from this asshole.

            Blaine set Kurt's phone back on the table in what he assumed was the exact place he picked it up from before putting his own away. Kurt was still in the bathroom, he wasn't one to take forever.

            He wandered down the hall, wincing at every creak the floor made even though he wasn't trying to sneak up on him. Everything just felt better if it was done quietly. Blaine paused outside the door, listening quietly and once he heard a quiet sniff from the other side he rapped his knuckles softly against the wood.

            There was a slight shuffle. “C-Come in.” He sounded so broken and scared that Blaine didn't regret hiding that text from him at all in that moment. He slowly pushed open the door, slinking inside before shutting it carefully behind him. Kurt was curled up across from the sink, strip of toilet paper crumpled in his hand as he watched Blaine quietly.

            “I'd ask if you're okay, but that's a pretty dumb question, isn't it?”

            Kurt just gave a sort of weak shrug. “I'm sorry I dumped all of that on you. It's my problem and I shouldn't have bothered you with that.”

            Blaine dropped into a crouch beside him before falling back on his ass with a little noise and crossing his legs. “Kurt, if I didn't want it dumped on me, I honestly wouldn't have asked. I'm here for a reason—still here, even after you told me. I'm not going anywhere.” He definitely wasn't. If anything, he would glue himself to Kurt's side to make sure nobody hurt him ever again.

            “How could you still want me? I'm... ruined.” Kurt tucked his head between his knees, giving another little sniffle.

            “You're not ruined. Maybe you're a little frayed at the edges, but I'm quite a bit torn up myself, don't you think? I want you for what you've been through because if you don't go through hard times then you don't have character, and you, Kurt Hummel, have a shit ton of character.”

            Kurt gave a little chuckle before sitting up and resting his eyes on Blaine for what really felt like the first time all night. “You're perfectly imperfect.” He reached out, fingertips touching Blaine's forearm. “You're so amazing in every way and I don't know what I did to deserve such an incredible man like you.” 

            Blaine leaned forward, resting his chin on Kurt's knee and grinning dopily up at him. “I ask myself the same thing. And then I remember that you went through hell to fix me and it took me a total of five years to get my head out of my ass.”

            And then Kurt was kissing him, lips moulding together perfectly. Blaine sucked in a sharp breath through his nose, mouths seeming to open at the same time as they re-explored each other. When Kurt pulled away, he was smiling. “You always were the slower one.” A hand slid around the back of Blaine's neck, fingers combing through the curls there and Blaine couldn't help but let out a little hum. “So... what is this?” Kurt motioned with his other hand, gesturing to the both of them. “I mean—us. What are we?”

            Blaine swatted at Kurt's ankle weakly. “Rude.” He tilted his head slightly, watching Kurt's eyes carefully. “I'd like us....” He paused, making a face. “Kurt Hummel, would you do me the incredible honour of being my boyfriend again?”

            Kurt brought a hand up to tap at his chin, eyes flicking to the ceiling. “I'm not sure, Blaine Anderson, I may have to get back to you on that.” Their eyes met again and Kurt's arms were suddenly around his neck, almost knocking him to the floor as he nudged their noses together. “Of course, you dork. Of course.”

            And it was like another little piece of forever fell into place.