Awake and present, Blaine didn't want to think about how the look on Kurt's face made him feel, that small smile and those soft azure eyes that kept glancing over at him from the tiny kitchen, as if Blaine might disappear. Early morning and the apartment was deathly cold so Blaine remained curled up under a blanket on the couch, by Kurt's insistence. He could hear Kurt rattling around, determined to make ‘the best damn soup you've ever had Anderson so you just stay right there' and Blaine didn't have the energy to argue. Kurt said he was getting sick. Blaine said he was just tired.

Kurt presented him with the best bowl of chicken noodle soup he'd ever tasted but that was besides the point. If he was sick it was barely more than a mild bout of the common cold but no, Kurt had assumed it was some deadly form of Influenza. He bustled around brewing him tea and fluffing pillows, producing box upon box of tissues that seemed to materialise from thin air and more vitamins than he even knew existed. Blaine played along thinking that by the afternoon Kurt would have gotten it out of his system. It wasn't until a cup of cough syrup was thrust in front of his face come early evening that Blaine had decided he'd had enough.

"Kurt, no I'm not taking that." Blaine said crossing his arms and shifting away from him on the couch. "Blaine come on it'll help." Kurt begged brow furrowed as he held the medicine out in front of him. "I don't even have a cough, I haven't coughed once."

"I just think-"

"Are you trying to drug me, is that what this is? Couldn't manage anything better than an unwarranted dose of cough medicine?"

"What? No, of course-"

"Then why?" Blaine grunted, standing up abruptly. Blood rushed to his head and caused him to sway on his feet, his cold and the sudden dizziness making him unsteady. Kurt lunged forward but Blaine jerked back, balling up the blanket angrily and throwing it to the ground.

Blue eyes stared at him, wide, sad and scared. Kurt just stood, shoulders slumping in a way that would've made Blaine walk over to him and kiss him breathless with no preamble and no hesitation but not this time, not when he made him feel like such a child.

"I just want to look after you." Kurt sighed, defeated and shamefaced.

"I thought I had a lover not a nanny." Blaine spat back, grabbing his glasses and shoving his books into his satchel. "You know I don't thin-"

"What?" Blaine growled, searching the couch cushions for his sketchbook "You don't think I'm just some dumb, struggling kid that needs all the help he can get? It was just an added bonus that you got a pity fuck out of it while you showed off how noble you are!"

Kurt watched, frozen in abject horror and guilt as Blaine stormed around the apartment, sniffling and rubbing furiously at his watering eyes, so determined, so stubborn that he wouldn't let a single tear fall. "Stop," Kurt whispered, he gripped Blaine's arm and tugged him back forcing him to look at him "you know that's not what we are." Blaine wrenched his arm from his grasp and glared. "Really?" He shouted desperately "Then what are we?"

Kurt fell silent, not able to meet Blaine's eyes as his thoughts evaded him, terror and hurt and confusion, thorns in his side and a cage on his heart. "What are we?" Blaine asked again choking back a sob as he let the tears fall "You're leaving soon, and I'm falling apart but I don't even have the right to be angry. You've made no declarations so you've never lied and made no promises that you could possibly break. So you tell me Kurt, what are we?"

Before Kurt spoke he knew his next words wouldn't be enough, it would never be enough "I- I just want you - want to take care of you." Blaine let out a humourless laugh, muffled, harsh and bitter. "I'm not your Cinderfella remember?" He muttered as he tugged on his jacket and opened the door "I can take care of myself."

The door slammed shut behind him and Kurt stood in the middle of the room, waiting for the burning behind his own eyes to subside and the lump in his throat to disappear. He sat at his desk, worked a new sheet of blank paper into his rusty typewriter and continued on.

- Chapter 14 -

The beginning of the end

~*~

His flight was booked for the next day and he felt dread settle cold and heavy in his chest at the thought of telling Blaine, it made his chest feel tight and his eyes begin to blur but he ignored it, wandering away from his writing to make coffee. The apartment was eerily silent for a Sunday afternoon, devoid of Blaine's bright laugh or beautiful warm voice singing some old ballad that Kurt had never heard before but loved instantly.

It hit him suddenly just how much he'd miss him. He'd thought about it before but it hadn't physically hurt to think about how he wouldn't wake up next to him every morning or come home to see him curled up on the couch, glasses sliding off his nose and a pencil gripped between his fingers. He'd miss his smile and his molten gold eyes and his soft curly hair. He'd miss his skin and the sound of his sweet moans and panting breaths. He'd miss all that they had but didn't have at the same time, what could've been if it had been a different time if they themselves were different.

He climbed out onto the fire escape and remembered the morning he'd stood in the frigid, soot soaked air and wrapped his arms around a stranger. A stranger that spoke of art like it was the very beat of his heart, colour and composition the blood in his veins. He had been a lover who's every breath was music. If Kurt could have put into words all that Blaine was then he would have had a novel worth writing. Blaine, however, was beyond words, the first and only person to leave Kurt speechless, wanting for a way to describe the feeling that filled him whenever he caught his eye.

Blaine's things were scattered around the apartment, Kurt himself was wearing one of Blaine's oversized jumpers and it felt as though he was already gone, swimming in the remnants of something that was never really anything. It was no one's fault but his, knowing that he'd have to leave eventually but being too selfish to deny himself Blaine and in the process risking losing him indefinitely.

Blaine Devon Anderson, quietly fierce, breathtaking, simply beautiful. Blaine, someone Kurt Elizabeth Hummel had to say goodbye to.

~*~

After spending the afternoon with Maggie Blaine walked carefully into the apartment, tip toeing across the living room and being careful not to knock over end tables and knick knacks with his satchel stuffed with books that Maggie had pulled from the shelves and shoved into his arms. He deposited everything in his room before crossing the hall and peeking through the crack in Kurt's door. He saw Kurt moving from his closet to the bed and knew instantly that he must be packing, piling away his life and belongings before moving away, moving on. And Blaine was stuck as firmly as the lump in his throat as he pushed open the door without knocking, Kurt paused half way across the room, boxers and socks in hand.

"Hi" Blaine whispered eyes downcast and voice cracking. Kurt dropped what he was holding and then they were kissing, hard and fierce and aching. Kurt could taste the salt, thumbs slipping in tear tracks as he brushed across Blaine's cheeks. Blaine could feel the tremor of Kurt's shoulders, his arms wrapped tightly around his neck as he gripped his waist.

Pulling back abruptly Blaine took a deep breath, forcing his eyes to stay shut and try and quell the tears. He could feel Kurt's breath against his neck, hot and hitching. When his eyes opened his tears ceased to fall and he tore from Kurt's arms to send his suitcase crashing to the floor, its contents spilling across the bedroom floor like a flash flood.

He stood staring at the mess until Kurt took his face in his hands and crushed his lips to his, kissing deep and dirty and desperate like he couldn't get enough, like he'd never get enough. They fell, limbs tangled and hands frantic to the bed. Blaine clambered on top, kissing and sucking at any expanse of skin he could reach, rocking his hips messily down into Kurt's. "Shh shh baby, we don't-" Kurt whispered as Blaine muffled his whimper in his neck. "No just please-" Blaine replied pulling back and searching Kurt's expression "j-just give me this please I don't-"

"Okay"

~*~

Blaine rested his head on Kurt's shoulder as he watched him work himself open, muttering into sweat slick skin as Kurt arched and writhed and mewled from pleasuring himself and Blaine's hot, eager hands, touching him, adoring him, loving him, inch by inch. Kurt's hips jolted off the bed and Kurt's shaking lube slick hands scrambled over Blaine shining skin, nails scratching down his back as he hauled him on top of him once more with a constant mantra of ‘now please, please, please'.

Nothing else mattered but the feel of Kurt around him, the scrape of nails down his back and the softness of his hair pulled taught between his fingers. They lost themselves in it, the push and pull of it, bodies sliding slick with sweat, patches wet from sucking kisses and teasing tongues. Blaine buried his face in Kurt's neck, pressing close and breathing him in, the steady thrust of his hips out of sync with the pounding of his heart.

Kurt arched under him, mouth finding his and kissing for all he was worth, biting and panting through messy kisses, off centre and imperfect, but enough finally enough. The heat coiled up inside him, Kurt's moans and whimpers echoing through the humid air and seeping through his skin rattling his very bones. "Come for me" Kurt whined tugging on Blaine's curls and tightening around him.

His lungs burnt and his eyes stung as the heat crashed through him, burning white hot as he continued to thrust into Kurt harder and deeper until he cried out, keening as come coated both their chests. Blaine collapsed on top of him, trembling muscles giving out after what seemed like hours. He claimed Kurt's lips again and again, not giving him a chance to speak, to ask the questions he inevitably wouldn't be able to answer without breaking.

They cleaned up in silence falling back into bed to kiss and touch and remember until long after the sun had set. Kurt blinked heavily and Blaine marvelled at the glow of his skin in the silvery moonlight, like a spot light and Kurt was on stage, front and centre exposed and shining. Blaine could never get enough, there were never enough kisses or dates or nights in each other's arms. There wasn't enough time. Soon Kurt would be gone, and all that would be left is Blaine and an empty apartment that would never feel like home so long as his heart was absent. They kissed and stared, savouring every second until sleep swamped them and stole their final hours.

~*~

The sun had barely risen when Kurt woke up the next morning to catch his flight. He showered, dressed and finished packing all while Blaine was still sleeping, curled up and warm under the messy sheets. He took a few minutes to watch him as he slept, at his most peaceful and care free. He let his finger graze across his sleep warmed cheeks, let his hands stroke the loose curls back from his forehead, his nose crinkling adorably in his sleep as he felt Kurt comb through his hair. Placing a feather light kiss to his lips Kurt left the room with a lingering, tear filled glance to Blaine's sleeping form.

With his suitcases by the door Kurt walked over to his desk to leave Blaine the letter he'd written when he noticed a package, wrapped in brown paper and tied with string. On it, in Blaine's messy scrawl was written: ‘To be opened in Chicago. Take me with you'. With a small smile Kurt exchanged the package for his own letter, clutching it to his chest before stowing it safely in his satchel. A fond look towards the fire escape and he turned, opening the door and closing it behind him with a dull and final sounding thud

~*~

My beautiful Blaine,

                              A letter is a coward's way of saying goodbye but I'm afraid I was never as brave as you baby. You know how to contact me but I doubt that you will, after all my good intentions are no excuse for what I've left in my wake. So I am almost certain that this is a goodbye. Do believe me when I say I wish it wasn't but if there's one thing I ever prove in my life it's that older doesn't always result in the individual being wiser. You've taught me so much. I've learnt that art and music can be someone's heart and soul, I've learnt that kindness has no limits and I've learnt that even the most bruised and scarred individuals can be strong again.

      I only ever wanted to make you feel wanted, to give you all the great things you deserve. But I failed. You deserve more, so much more than my selfishness. I watched you break after Jonah and I hate the fact that you'll break again and this time because of me. I thought avoiding declarations and promises would hurt us less, that they wouldn't be broken or leave us disappointed. I was wrong, everything's uncertain and confusing and fucking frustrating and I knew, I knew from the start. I couldn't let you go but now I have to.

      You're so beautiful baby, so intelligent and talented and confident. You can do anything, anything you want and be brilliant, fantastic, breathtaking, awe inspiring. But seeing you neck deep in books or singing your heart out or sketching with your glasses perched on the tip of your nose, you're already all those things without even trying. You're a supernova Blaine Anderson, and one the universe will never forget.

Be happy sweetheart, you deserve that and the world on a string.

All my affection, forever and always

Kurt

‘"The moment you doubt whether you can fly, you cease for ever to be able to do so."'