I miss the sound of your voice,

And I miss the rush of your skin.

And I miss the still of the silence,

As you breathe out and I breathe in.

If I could tell you what's next,

I'd make you believe.

            “I'll leave you two alone.” It was almost a whisper as Blaine pulled away, arms slipping off Kurt's shoulders. Blaine gave him a shy little half-smile, chewing on the inside of his cheek as he turned and made his way out of the apartment, hardly even giving Aaron a second look.

            Blaine didn't know how he was supposed to feel. On one hand, the little heart-to-heart with Kurt had opened something he thought was welded shut ages ago. He felt like he could really and truly breathe for the first time in forever and it was exhilarating. But on the other, he was being naïve. It was childish to think that one little sit-down would solve all his problems. That one near-kiss would kill his demons. It was stupid that he believed so hard.

            Blaine paused outside Rachel's door, fingers resting on the handle and debating whether or not it was really worth returning. Christian was more than likely dancing onto the not-so-sober side of the line, Rachel was probably fighting tooth and nail for karaoke, and Blaine wasn't sure he wanted to be looped into that.

            He could walk home, or take a cab if he was feeling lazy; it wasn't like they brought the car in the first place, anyways. Blaine slid inside the door, closing it immediately behind himself in an attempt to draw the least amount of attention. Which inevitably backfired when Christian spotted him and stumbled his way through the crowd.

            “Blainey! Where did you go? I missed you.” Wonderful, Christian was one of those kinds of drunks. He swung his arm around Blaine's shoulders, crushing the shorter man into his side in a sweaty, smelly, suffocating mess.

            “I was talking to someone. I'm not staying; I'm just getting my coat and going.” Blaine fought to wiggle himself away from the older man, pressing a gentle but insistent hand against Christian's side in an attempt to escape.

            “But you can't leave,” he pouted, shoving out his lower lip in such an overdramatic act that Blaine nearly started laughing. “Rachel is just setting up karaoke.”

            “All the more reason for me to bolt while I can. Have fun with kitten-sweaters; I doubt you'll be home tonight given the amount of alcohol you've consumed.” Blaine gave him a pat on the shoulder and a grin before slipping off in the direction of the closet. Christian was never good at drinking; he was a serious light-weight that could barely handle more than two wine coolers, and given the state he was in now, he'd definitely had more than that and would probably be suffering a not-so-pleasant hangover come morning. Rachel was the one who wanted to date him, so it was only fair to leave him at her house so that she knew what exactly she was signing up for. Blaine grabbed his coat before heading back to the door, mind set on walking home rather than taking a taxi.

            The late night air was like a slap in the face, although a well deserved one at that. It was crisp and cold, whipping at the curls that had broken out of their hardly-gelled hold. The snow stuck to his loafers, seeming to worm its way over the edges and freezing his sockless feet in a matter of seconds.

            “That's disturbing.” Kurt had his arms crossed, brow creased with a glare as he stared down at –Blaine's ankles?

            “Am I showing too much skin?” Blaine quirked an eyebrow, a hint of a smile tugging up the corner of his mouth.

            “You're not wearing socks, Blaine. That's outrageous.” And the sad part was that Kurt actually looked mortified.

            “They're just socks.”

            “They're not just socks! How do your shoes not smell horrible? How do you not have blisters? That's so unhealthy.” And if Blaine didn't know Kurt, he wouldn't believe he was actually serious.

            “I guess I just have majestic feet.”

            “Yes well keep your majestic feet away from me.”

            There were some days that Blaine thought about what his life would have been like if he didnt move to the city. If hed have moved out west with Cooper instead. Would he still have missed Kurt as much? Maybe not. Maybe the city was just a set up for himself; he got out of his fathers torture and dunked himself in a whole new realm of his own. Because maybe subconsciously he knew that being around all the life that teemed within New York would remind him of what hed lost with Kurt.  

            For awhile he'd been fine. He'd been able to cope with it all with the help of Christian. But now, looking back on the past few years of his life, he realized how shitty things had actually been, no matter what he tried to tell himself; he hadn't ever been truly happy here.

            Blaine glanced up at the sky. The daintily falling snowflakes danced around each other in the air, twisting and swirling around on the breeze. Sometimes he wondered why he didn't go out more often, why he didn't enjoy the world for what it was worth. He lived in one of the most gorgeous cities on the planet and he didn't even get out and really live in it.

            People still shuffled by on the sidewalk despite the early hour. That was one thing that Blaine loved about New York; everybody was so alive. They all had places to be, no matter what the time. And really, it was refreshing. Because on a bad day, Blaine knew that he wasn't alone. He could look out the window and watch the throngs of people struggling by on the sidewalk and know that just because he had problems didn't mean the world stopped turning. It was a wakeup call, and a relieving one at that. It was one he hadn't even realized until now.

            Blaine was still trying to decide if walking home was a good idea. He had time to think; he could take his time and just breathe in the fresh air. Except now he couldn't feel his feet.

            It was leaning closer to one in the morning when he finally stepped into the apartment, locking the door behind him and shucking off his coat to hang on the rack. The house was completely silent, a rare thing as of recent because they both seemed to be home all the time. It was dark save for the little light above the stove that Christian was always so inexplicably adamant about leaving on.

            Blaine toed off his shoes gingerly, hissing at the friction against his frozen feet before padding down the hallway toward the bathroom. Maybe he'd take a bath.

            As it turned out, a bath was a wonderful idea. Blaine slumped back in the tub, closing his eyes and leaning his head against the wall; he felt like he was really waking up. The heat eventually thawed out his toes, leaving them tingling in the hot water. Steam curled lazily off the surface and he just felt so peaceful. It was then he realized something was wrong. Not really wrong, per say, but a lot different than before and he hadn't even noticed it.

            His withdrawal symptoms were gone. The itch in his arms had faded, his throbbing headache evaporated just like the steam from his bath. He didn't know what caused it, but he didn't feel like he needed the drug anymore. Or maybe he did know. Maybe getting back in touch with Kurt had been all he needed. Maybe Kurt was the only drug he needed. Fuck, if he'd have known that, he probably would have given the man a chance a long time ago.

            Or maybe he wouldn't have. Blaine was stubborn, and he knew that; openly admitted to it even. He would have plowed on the same way, ignored Kurt's feeble attempts to get them to talk, and ended up just the same. Although the idea that he might have been able to make it better even the slightest bit for himself was just another slap in the face.

            If he was being completely honest, which at this point he definitely was, he missed Kurt. He honestly and truly missed the other man. He'd dipped into the feeling before but now, waking up alone in his bedroom on Christmas with an empty apartment, made him wish even more for Kurt's strong arms around him.

            They had gotten so close the night before. The fact that Blaine actually remembered it was a miracle in itself considering he was decidedly not completely sober. But he remembered, and for once the memories didn't hurt.

            He remembered the sharp smell of Kurt's cologne when he buried his face in the side of his neck. He remembered the firm, grounding embrace of Kurt's arms and the gentle lips against his temple. He remembered how they had gotten so close to kissing; so close. He couldtaste the spice of Kurt's mint gum, feel the tip of his nose brushing over Blaine's cheek and fuck, why hadn't he moved faster and just crushed that little bit of space into nothing? The smell of coconut and mango had been so overwhelming Blaine could have drowned in it, and happily so.

            He rolled over, watching the ceiling in the same way that seemed to start out every morning of his life. Except this time he felt different. He felt just a little bit lighter, and if he tried to convince himself that he didn't know why, he knew he'd be lying.

Even though it was Christmas and Blaine was all by himself, he didn't think he'd ever been happier. Christian had never returned home, and Blaine promised himself to congratulate his roommate on the breaking of his sexless streak.  

            And then Blaine's phone buzzed on the nightstand where he'd left it before attending the party. Picking it up, there were several missed calls from an unknown number and a plethora of what he guessed were supposed to be legible texts from a very drunk Cooper. The most recent one had been his brother yet again, apologizing for the mishmash of what he sent the night before and wishing Blaine a Merry Christmas and telling him to check his mailbox soon accompanied by a stupid little winky-face that made him laugh out loud into the silence of his room.

            He wondered if things would just get better from here. If one little run in with Kurt made him feel this good already, Blaine couldn't imagine the euphoria he was going to be exposed to in what he hoped was soon. He danced around the living room on his toes, singing quietly under his breath. He turned on the television, flicking the channel to the Yule log as per tradition. If Cooper were there, he would have been proud; his brother would protect the stupid flaming log until the day he died.

            Blaine took his phone out of his sweats pocket, pulling up Kurt's name without thinking about it and quickly sending off a text.

            Merry Christmas again, I know we already said it last night but I feel like saying it the day of makes it seem more official. Does that make sense? I don't know, ignore me. Anyways, I hope you have a wonderful day and I hope that Aaron guy didn't fuck you up too bad. No pun intended. Sorry, this is a really long message. I guess what I'm trying to say is thank you.

            He paused, fingers hovering over the keys of the touch screen once more. Was it worth it? Would he even care? Blaine stared the little blinking cursor, eyebrows scrunching together. Who was Aaron, anyways? Wasn't Kurt supposed to be engaged? Shit, that was probably his fiancé. Although, come to think of it, Blaine didn't remember seeing the ring on Kurt's finger.

            I miss you already, is that creepy? It probably is. Sorry, have a nice Christmas, Kurt.

            Maybe they broke up. Blaine grinned, spinning a little on the tips of his toes before wiggling into the kitchen and singing a whole new tune.

            “Oh baby, it's cold outside.”