"Well er-" Blaine muttered from the centre of the room, gesturing for Kurt to follow him inside the apartment "I was going to say welcome home but I guess that's Chicago now." He smiled weakly, shrugging out of his jacket. "I wouldn't say it's home per se," Kurt replied distractedly, glancing around at the newly painted walls, the cracks in them no longer visible "I'm not awfully fond of Chicago. It doesn't seem to have all that New York has to offer." Blaine laughed lightly, sweet smile still gracing his lips.

"Hmmm a house certainly isn't a home without screaming neighbours, faulty wiring and a landlord that was recently arrested and charged for tax evasion."

"John was arrested?" Kurt said incredulously.

"John was a greedy asshole whose rent was extortionate and happened to think I was hooker." Blaine replied dryly.

"What the fuck?"

"I know, trust me, it was so bizarre and just hilarious. A lot's happened in the past six months."

"It sounds like it," seating himself on the couch, Kurt attempted to tug Blaine down with him "tell me everything."

"Oh I will baby," Blaine placated him sweetly, pulling his hand back and making his way toward the bathroom "I'm just gonna shower and change and then I'll be right with you. Talk in ten?"

"Yeah, sure, of course" Kurt said, nodding and staring up at Blaine framed by the dim light of the bathroom. Saying nothing and biting his lip, Blaine spun round shutting the door behind him and leaving Kurt alone in a place that felt so familiar yet looked so very different.

The walls had all been re-plastered and papered, painted a generic off-white except for the central wall and the wall of the fire escape. The old brickwork surrounding the rickety sash window had been exposed and touched up, making the room feel surprisingly warm and homely. The central wall had been painted a rich, dark green that contrasted perfectly with the deep red of the brick. Some of Blaine's paintings still hung from the walls, many Kurt recognised and a few he didn't.

There were new pillows, and a sturdier looking coffee table and an exotic looking rug, all new additions to the apartment. Kurt's writing desk still stood next to the window, it's surface bare but for a neat carving, words etched into the wood and painted over to make them stand out against the grain. 'It may have been quixotic, but it was magnificent' it read, and Kurt couldn't help but laugh as he brushed his fingers across the phrase.

Blaine had made himself a home at long last. Everywhere he looked he could see parts of him. He saw Blaine's eyes in the green of the leaves on a small stained glass lamp shade. He saw Blaine's hands in the roughness of the exposed brick, Blaine's skin in the smooth hardwood floor. He saw Blaine's smile in the array of quirky coffee cups stacked neatly by the sink and in the amount of cigarette butts in the ashtray on the windowsill. He saw Blaine's heart in the easel placed reverently in the right hand corner, in the books and music on the bookshelf, title upon title, and pile upon pile. Blaine had made himself a home alright, a life even. What hurt Kurt the most however was that he had missed his chance to be a part of it, and in turn, a part of Blaine.

A short rap on the front door broke Kurt from his thoughts, and after a quick glance toward the bathroom, he moved to answer it. It felt strange to answer the door in an apartment he no longer lived in but he unbolted it and turned the doorknob just the same.

It was the third time that Kurt had opened the door to see Jonah on the other side and frankly each time it became more and more unpleasant. The man looked very different to what he did the last time Kurt had seen him. Finely dressed and smiling, honestly for once, Jonah hesitated shifting uncomfortably as Kurt glared, saying nothing. "To what," Kurt began, piercing eyes scrutinizing the man before him "do we owe the pleasure of seeing you standing outside this door again Jonah?" Jonah tried not to be affected by Kurt's bitterness but felt his smile slip at his obvious distaste. Just then Jonah jiggled something that he was holding carefully in his arms. "I came to drop off Blaine's portfolio; our professor was caught up with the exhibition and forgot to hand Blaine's back so I offered to bring it to him." Jonah said defiantly, lifting his chin and maintaining eye contact even as he felt the heavy book slip in his sweaty hands.

"I'll see that he gets it." Replying curtly Kurt reached for the portfolio just as Jonah pulled it back. "But I-"

"Kurt? Jonah is that you out there?" Blaine's voice called as he peered at them from the lounge, making his way toward them barefoot, in threadbare jeans and a simple white t-shirt, damp from his still wet hair. "Oh you brought my portfolio thank you so much! What would I do without you?" Blaine laughed and Kurt felt his stomach drop. "Why don't you come in and have a drink with us?" Blaine took the portfolio from Jonah, flipping through the pages and smiling fondly at his work. "Oh n-no," Jonah stuttered, wide eyed and nervous "I wouldn't want to interrupt you or anything."

"Don't be silly," Blaine cut him off playfully, tugging him into to the apartment by the hand "there's plenty of wine and if someone doesn't drink it then I will and we all know how that ends."

Kurt was very familiar with how Blaine and too much wine tended to end. They'd been drunk together on multiple occasions. Occasions of note were the time they ended up painting and writing late into the early hours of the morning completely naked and the time they passed out piled on top of each other in the bathtub, sans water and again, sans clothing. Not to mention the numerous times Kurt had blown Blaine to oblivion on the rickety coffee table, so many times in fact that it eventually broke under the force of his orgasm, or the amount of times Blaine had ridden Kurt into the mattress, babbling filthy delicious things that made Kurt's toes curl in the messy sheets and that Blaine would've never dared repeat entirely sober.

Jonah snorted, grinning from ear to ear and Kurt silently seethed with anger at the thought that Jonah had probably sometime been a part of such escapades, and having known Blaine longer, he'd had a part in a lot more of them than Kurt himself had. With a grin as big as Jonah's, Blaine offered them a wink, telling them to help themselves to wine as he went to his bedroom to put away the portfolio.

Dropping his strained smile and without even looking at Jonah, Kurt strode toward the kitchen. He poured himself a large glass of red wine, drank three quarters of it and turned to glare at Jonah, his right hand squeezed menacingly around a corkscrew. "What game are you trying to play here?!" He asked coldly, glowering at him from across the room. "I'm not playing any game asshole," Jonah spat back; "I just want to be in his life."

"What, so you can fuck it up again? Don't you think it's time to give it up, don't you think you've hurt him enough?" Kurt hissed, slamming his glass down onto the counter. "Oh that's rich," Jonah laughed humourlessly, taking a step closer "Mister Hummel, playing the fucking hero."

"Better the hero than the villain!" Seething, Kurt shook, fingers tight around the stem of his glass "You just made him fall for you, played with his heart and fucked him and then cast him aside."

"WHAT AND YOU DIDN'T?!" Jonah cried, voice rising "Don't try and tell me that's not exactly what you did. We're no different Kurt. You swooped in with your good looks and your charm and you what? You were a mere room mate? You just couldn't help yourself could you, couldn't resist making the beautiful young thing beg for you that's right isn't it!"

"How fucking dare you!" Kurt bellowed "At least I didn't treat him like shit. At least I helped him and swept him off his feet. At least I didn't cheat on him and hit him with a hardwood door and god knows what else while I was on meth!"

"You don't have a fucking clue do you?" Jonah asked, voice dropping low and dangerous "You're no better than me; you're not his guardian or his protector or whatever the fuck you think you are." He stepped in front of Kurt, staring up at him menacingly. "You're nothing to him now. Nothing. Do you hear me? You only did what you wanted, what was best for you" Jonah took a step back, lips curling in disgust but his eyes betrayed him. "You're as fucked up and as selfish as I am Mister Hummel. The only difference is, I admit it."

Kurt lunged at him. They crashed into the wall and grappled until they fell to the floor, smashing the stained glass lamp and the coffee table in the middle of the room. Jonah pinned Kurt amongst the broken glass, the shards cutting his skin until Kurt wriggled free with a swift kick to the gut. It happened fast and clumsily and they barely noticed when Blaine came running into the room, screaming at them to stop. Blaine attempted to pull Kurt back but was too late as Kurt's fist connected with Jonah's cheek and he slumped to the floor, heart pounding and ears rushing with blood as he stared at the bruised figure on the floor next to him and then up at Blaine's horrified, tear stained face.

"Get out!" He screamed at them both, walking until his back hit the wall. It took a few moments for Kurt to realise he'd started crying, watching as if through a looking glass at Blaine, trembling and sobbing with anger. "Leave! Go! Get out!" He screamed again, voice completely broken; his eyes lost looking as they met with Jonah's sorrowful glance as he dragged himself out of the apartment. "Blaine I'm so-" Kurt started desperately reaching out, but was stopped abruptly when Blaine flinched, shaking his head violently. "Get the fuck out and don't come back Kurt!" Blaine cried, hoarse and sobbing uncontrollably. "Get out! Get out! Get out! Leave me the fuck alone and don't ever come back!"

Kurt left the apartment slowly, Jonah and Blaine's words echoing in his mind as Blaine's hollow sobs and gasping breaths carried on behind him. He didn't look back, heart breaking with every step he took. Once he'd made it out of the apartment and the door had slammed shut behind him, hiding the heart broken boy from view, he slid down the wood, choking on sobs as the bitter taste of blood and loss flooded his mouth.

~*~

Blaine stayed slumped against the wall for a long time until the tears stopped. He stood up on shaky legs and surveyed the room. It was completely wrecked, new pieces of furniture he'd spent months saving for ripped to shreds in a matter of minutes. He couldn't even find it in himself to be upset anymore, he was just so fucking angry. He'd rebuilt himself, he was following his dreams, he was happy. He started to wonder why Kurt had even bothered to come back seeing as he clearly had no concern for his feelings anymore. Kurt and Jonah had fought over him as if he were some kind of prize, some precious, fragile treasure.

What hurt the most was that he was happy, he was working hard as usual but he was succeeding, enjoying life, enjoying his work. He made the most of what he had and he was comfortable. During his break he'd worked with the new landlord to give the apartment a total overhaul, she'd even lowered his rent and paid for all the wiring to be fixed and the walls to be re-plastered, mostly because it was illegal to be renting out accommodation with that many health and safety hazards but it was honestly much appreciated. He'd spent time and money making it exactly how he wanted, spending afternoons with Tina in their overalls painting and building flat pack furniture until their skin was cracking with dried paint and they had a chair vaguely resembling the one on the box. His hard work, his happiness was destroyed within minutes all because a couple of grown men couldn't keep their mouths shut or respect the very person whose honour they were supposedly defending.

Sniffling he bent down, gingerly picking up the colourful shards of his broken lamp and dumping them, one by one, into the trash. It was a lost cause now and he wouldn't be able to fix it himself. It had been an antique he'd fallen in love with instantly, just like the easel he'd had in the apartment when Jonah was living with him that he'd also had to throw away. Funny, he thought, how the men in his life seemed to, whether accidentally or not, break his things and also break his heart. Moving carefully across the floor Blaine came across the book, Kurt's novel that he'd still neglected to read, lying open and bent amongst the debris. It wasn't that he'd been avoiding it. It was just that he'd never found the time, always letting his eyes linger on it as he swept past on his way out. He picked it up and smoothed his hand over the cover, flattening the pages carefully and making sure it didn't contain any glass. With a fond glance he placed it on the couch, turning back to finish cleaning what was left of his living room.

He was angry and so close to being miserable again but he was at a loss of what to do next. Words of anger and hatred stuttered through his mind but he pushed them aside before they had much effect. Blaine still loved him. The fact that he'd stormed in and ruined one of the proudest nights of his life barely changed anything. He'd never stopped loving him. He was just disappointed that it had to end in a similar fashion to how it ended with Jonah: with violence and an empty feeling in his chest.

Once the room was relatively clear of shattered glass and splintered wood he picked up the book and left for his bedroom, turning off lights as he went. He settled in for the night, rubbing at his still damp eyes as he began to read.

- Chapter 1 -

The boy with the breaking heart

This is what I get for falling in love with an artist.

Blaine laughed out loud after reading the first line, tears falling anew as he carried on. 'And this is what I get,' he thought wryly 'for falling in love with a god damn writer.'

~*~

"Kurt fucking Hummel!" Blaine bellowed into the speaker of his phone.

"Blaine! I'm so so sorry and I know you said you never wanted to see me again but I just want you to know that I-"

"I CAN'T FUCKING BELIEVE YOU!"

"What I know I'm so sorry tell me what I can do, I'll leave you alone if that's what you want but if there's anything el-"

"Just- SHUT UP YOU ASS!" Blaine croaked, cutting him off "Just stop talking and trying to make everything better when you haven't given me a chance to explain myself asshole."

"Okay." Voice trembling, Kurt conceded.

"Your book?" He asked and Kurt could tell he was crying. "Is it-" Blaine muttered, inhaling sharply as he just kept crying, "is it about- about us?"

Kurt paused for a long time, listening to Blaine's hitching breaths as he tried to hold back tears, like he always tried to when he desperately wanted to stop. All his big plans, of sweeping Blaine off his feet had failed. As the saying goes 'the road to hell is paved with good intentions'. He realised that he ruined it all only because he'd finally been told the truth, and no matter how much he tried he couldn't hate Jonah for enlightening him, even after he'd punched him in the face. All those months in Chicago had left him cold and hollow and seeing Blaine smile again was like stepping out into the sun. He was going to tell him, he was so happy when he'd invited him back to the apartment, he was ready for his grand gesture, for the cliched speech about how he moves his very soul and that he never wanted to say goodbye to him. It all came crashing down as soon as he answered Blaine's door, the truth of what he was really doing casting doubt on his feelings and on his 'good' intentions. He'd returned to his hotel room body aching as he crashed onto the bed and cried silently for the first time in a long time. He glanced at his personal copy of A Picture for a Poet and squeezed his eyes tight shut as he realised for the last, unmistakable time that he was in love with Blaine Anderson and he had been and was going to be for a very long time.

"No." Kurt said simply. "It isn't but it is sort of inspired by us, by you really."

"B-by me?" Blaine whispered in surprise, sniffles audible through the speaker. Kurt could just imagine him, curled up in one of the oversized jumpers he seemed so fond of, warm in bed with his glasses on and the book clutched tightly to his chest. "Yeah um," Kurt began again, a small smile tugging at his lips. "The first time I saw you wasn't at your apartment, I er actually noticed you several weeks before at a coffee shop just across the street from Maggie's."

"You were the man buried in his notebook in one of the corner booths at The Fix?" Blaine breathed, his smile almost audible. "Yeah yo-you remember that?" Kurt gasped, astonished "I was only buried in my notebook when you weren't looking, while you were busy scribbling away-"

"I do not scribble!" He cut in indignantly.

"I couldn't take my eyes off you." Kurt finished in a whisper. There was a short pause before Blaine's voice crackled over the phone, voice light and amused.

"You creepy old man."

"Hey I am not a creepy old man."

"You were spying on a boy ten years your junior from a corner booth, that at least constitutes as 'creepy old man' behaviour." Blaine laughed loudly at Kurt's affronted tone, the sound making Kurt's skin tingle. "I was-" Kurt started to defend himself but he knew it was futile, hearing Blaine's warm chuckle in his ear "well whatever I just remember thinking..." He trailed off.

"Thinking what?" Blaine urged coyly.

"That you were beautiful" Kurt replied "and I almost hated Jonah instantly when I watched him leave you there. I felt like screaming at him."

"Well you've done a lot more than scream at him now" Blaine snapped, suddenly scornful "and you're paying for that lamp."

"I'll buy you a new lamp I promise and I regret punching Jonah in the face, it really hurt my hand and I think I understand something about him now that I just didn't get before."

"W-what's that?" Blaine asked, anger fading from his voice.

"When I watched him leave you that day at The Fix I was so irrationally angry at him for being so closed off. He just gave you a swift kiss and was gone and I remember thinking, as you blinked back tears might I add, that if it was me instead of Jonah that you so obviously cared for I would be staring at you from across that table, gazing enraptured at your profile and the gracefulness of your hands across the page, I'd be writing sonnets and haikus about your eyes and your smile with every moment I could bear to look away from you and poetry really isn't my forte Blaine, believe me." Blaine let out a choked laugh but otherwise stayed silent. "The more I listened to Jonah the other night the more I started to realise that maybe he isn't entirely an asshole. Maybe he realised he was in too deep and didn't want to drag you in too, maybe he knew he was ruining his life and didn't want to ruin yours. Maybe it was self sabotage or maybe he was so high he didn't even know what he was doing until he had his fucking dick in that guy. I don't know, hey he punched me in the gut and I didn't get a chance to ask him but what I do know is that he must've cared. He tried to distance himself, knowing he was fucked up, knowing he would hurt you but he couldn't stay away. I know because I did the same. I know because falling in love with you, Blaine Devon Anderson, is inevitable."

Kurt heard Blaine crying again and wished that he could hold him but the ending of their story was in his hands now. They didn't speak for a long time after that, Kurt clutching the phone and listening with an aching heart as Blaine sobbed. When he finally spoke it was with an attempt at light heartedness, his voice betraying him and cracking on every other word. "So I finished your book," he said "didn't they get together in the end?"

"Yeah," Kurt smiled grimly "I guess that's just one of the differences between us and them."

"But Kuuuurt," Blaine laughed through his tears "who's to say our story's over yet?"