A Picture for a Poet
Mercury-Skies
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A Picture for a Poet: Chapter 14


E - Words: 1,993 - Last Updated: Sep 09, 2013
Story: Complete - Chapters: 21/21 - Created: Nov 16, 2012 - Updated: Sep 09, 2013
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"When I fall in love..."

"Alright superstar let's go home."

"It'll be completely - wha? No Jimmy said one more song. One more song Kurt pleeeease, pretty please." Blaine whined, and Kurt almost caved as Blaine looked up at him through fluttering eyelashes, big brown eyes wide and begging. "No sweetheart come on I think we've done enough singing for one night."


Kurt had to admit that when he had imagined their first date it had ended very differently to how it did in actuality. He never would've thought Blaine would've looked so beautiful and passionate under the stage lights. He never would've thought that Blaine would get drunk and close the evening with a bizarre but surprisingly good jazz rendition of Britney Spears' Toxic that he'd arranged in high school and taught to Lucille's band on one of his 'breaks'.


So the end of the evening saw Kurt tugging a smiling, singing and all round silly Blaine Anderson out of a club he wasn't even legally allowed to have been in as he flopped around in his arms like an inebriated toddler who apparently had a remarkable grasp of the English language and could manage to be bafflingly verbose even under the influence of innumerable glasses of whiskey, plus a little of Kurt's gin and tonic.


"Ooookay," Blaine whined a little dejectedly, "I've had fun tonight Kurt thank you."

"Oh no thank you for agreeing to come out with me" Blaine went unexpectedly silent at that, eyes fixed to the ground as they started walking, hands somehow clasped together. He didn't even notice when they'd started holding hands. Kurt being a little drunk himself stared down at their entwined fingers in mystification.


"I was so nervous about tonight," Blaine began quietly, all silliness suddenly replaced with sobriety and Blaine's wise beyond his years mind "I know you said this was a date but sometimes it's still hard to believe that you want me as- as more." Kurt's heart pounded against his rib cage, holding his breath in anticipation as Blaine stuttered on, words tripping on his tangled tongue. "Wh-what happened was confusing you know? You had me falling for you, a-and then you, you left. I knew it was coming but still I hoped. There are no fairy tales, no ‘prince charmings' and no ‘damsels in distress'. There is no Neverland. Only lost boys and longing for something you have, for now, but can't trust will be there forever. And I'm more than a little drunk. I'm more than a little out of my depth here, but I want this to be something substantial, something more than cut threads and fractured feelings and a broken heart. I've had one too many of those, broken hearts. I'm melodramatic and a sap and an idiot and I'm sorry."


"You don't have to be sorry Blaine. I can't - I won't make any promises. I want you Blaine and I-I've I'm not good at this but I'm trying please believe me when I say I want you, I want this." Kurt shook their joined hands and held on just a little tighter. What he'd said wasn't enough he knew, but Blaine, beautiful, strong Blaine just smiled, eyes watery as he stared at his moving feet waiting for the moment the absence of those three little words wouldn't hurt so much.


Blaine held his hand tight, stumbling now and again on the cracks in the sidewalk. Kurt walked beside him, facing straight ahead as Blaine meandered along to the right of him. He hated to appear so stoic, so emotionless but that had always been his problem, never knowing how to let his guard down completely. Sometimes it takes more to say what one means in person than to write an entire novel practically inspired by the individual that holds ones heart. Kurt had waxed poetic about love and fate and destiny and once upon a time he'd believed in it, but there comes a time when even the illusionist becomes disillusioned. The man who spun tales with words like golden thread, flowing from his mind to fingertip, suddenly found that magic spinning wheel grinding to a halt, a pricked finger laying waste to hopes of romance.


The streets were quieter as they walked back to Blaine's apartment, and Kurt despised their stillness. New York still bustled with life, city streets pounding with the resonant sound of people living their lives, pounding the concrete with footprints they won't leave behind. Faceless people seemed to pass in slow motion as they moved forward, all because Blaine was suddenly so quiet, blinking furiously at the ground in an attempt to clear his cloudy vision. Only when they had reached his building and climbed the stairs to his floor did Kurt realise that he'd been blinking back tears.


Just outside his apartment door Blaine turned and with a wet chuckle muttered "Why is it that after nights like this I always end up fucking crying?" He fished out his keys and his hands shook as he unlocked the door. "I must be doing something wrong." Kurt replied seriously and Blaine turned to face him with an incredulous laugh. "You're not- you're not doing anything wrong y-you're trying and I really appreciate that it's just-" he dropped his gazed to the floor, "it's hard to watch you leave on nights like this." Blaine's fingers bore down into the door frame, gripping the fracturing wood with hands with whitened knuckles. The unspoken ‘without knowing whether you'll come back' hung heavy in the air, unsaid but it didn't need to be. Blaine's hidden insecurity secreted away in an unuttered sentence.


"I don't have to leave." Kurt said earnestly

"You do."

"Why?"

"Because you know-" Blaine said loudly, cutting himself off to speak softly in the darkened hallway "because you know what'll happen if I let you stay and we're- it's too soon."

"We don't have to do anything I just-"

"What Kurt?"

"I just don't want to leave you tonight."


Without saying a word Blaine stepped aside, opening the door wide so that Kurt could enter. "I'll just take the couch or the spare bedroom um-"

"No you can - there is no spare bedroom anymore I had it converted it's the studio now. You can sleep with- in my bed, with me, if you want to." Blaine mumbled, dropping his keys into the bowl by the door and brushing his hand against the wall to guide him through the dark apartment and keep him steady in his drunken state. "Yes, um that's fine, if you're sure that is?"


Blaine didn't respond just carried on through the apartment until he reached his bedroom. He wobbled towards his dresser pulling out clothes for himself and Kurt to sleep in. Silently he placed those he'd picked for Kurt on the bed and took his own with him into the bathroom.


Sighing Kurt dressed and sat waiting for Blaine at the edge of his bed. He heard the light click off and watched as Blaine shuffled out into the bedroom, his arms folded across his bare chest, and navy silk pajama pants hanging low on his hips, too long for him. Kurt sat dumbly on the bed watching a shy and nervous looking Blaine curl his toes in the bottom of his pants. "God Blaine please come here and let me hold you before I go insane." He breathed out and Blaine stumbled to him, still dizzy with the remnants of alcohol. He lowered himself into Kurt's lap with a smile, his arms draped over his shoulders gracefully as Kurt held his waist.


"I missed you so much beautiful do you know that?" Kurt said hoarsely, throat thick with oncoming tears. Blaine nodded, his thumbs brushing across Kurt's cheeks. "I hate that this feels different now sometimes, I hate that it's this way because of me. But I know it's gonnna get better I just need time."

"You need time?" Blaine asked, panic flaring in him as he spoke.

"Not like that! I just need time to be sure."

"You're not sure?" Blaine said incredulously. "You said..."

"I know what I said..."

"Then stop leading me on!" Blaine yelled. "Stop taking me on dates and telling me how beautiful I am and suggesting that you're falling - you can't just say things in the hopes that they'll placate me until you make up your fucking mind Kurt!"

"Then what am I supposed to do? What do you want from me Blaine?" Kurt shouted back, frustrated and hurt.

"I WANT YOU TO LOVE ME BACK!"


Blaine immediately clasped his hands over his mouth, stumbling backwards as the tears began to fall anew. "I can't make you love me Kurt," Blaine whispered brokenly, "and maybe you never will, but if you want me don't you dare pretend that you do."


~*~


Blaine insisted that Kurt sleep on his couch that night because it was late and he was still too drunk and tired for Blaine to be sure he could make it back to his hotel safely. He set him up with blankets and pillows, water and aspirin and left with a quick goodnight, adding in a monotonous voice that they should talk again in the morning.


When he awoke the next morning and shuffled into the living room he found the blankets neatly folded, the glass drained and the aspirin gone. Kurt, evidently, was gone too. Blaine's eyes passed over the scene in front of him dazedly. He wasn't surprised; Kurt had a history of running from him. He wondered absently if he'd call him. He wanted time, so Blaine decided to give it to him. Kurt knew how he felt; there was nothing he could do. Sure he was angry and a hurt but he was also tired. Maybe he shouldn't have pushed, maybe he should have just waited in silence until Kurt had figured it all it.


He carried on. He made his morning cup of coffee. He showered, shaved, dressed. He picked up his keys and left for work, not bothering to glance back at the pile of blankets still left neatly stacked on the couch.


~*~


"Blaine dear could you get that reservation down from the top shelf in the history section for Miss Carmetta please?" Maggie called from the shelves. The phone rang and Blaine answered it distractedly. "Hello Atkinson Books, Blaine speaking how may I help you?"

"Blaine? Hi I-"
"Kurt what are you doing calling the shop?"

"I tried to call your cell but you didn't pick up so I thought I'd try you there." Kurt said quickly, voice pitching higher with nerves. "Of course I didn't pick up I'm working or did you forget I can actually function without you?"

"Blaine please-"

"Don't tell me you want to talk now. If you wanted to talk you would have stayed." There was a long pause and Blaine contemplated just hanging up.


"Is that what this is about? You're upset because I had to leave this morning?"

"No I'm upset you didn't keep your word."

"Blaine I didn't promise..."
"Oh fuck off Kurt. You and your talk of promises. Probably wouldn't mean shit even if you did have the balls to commit to one." Blaine said bitingly.
"Oh you wanna talk about commitment now? Jesus Christ Blaine you're a fucking walking cliché." Kurt snarled back.

"Oh and the lost and sad writer act isn't? Surely the older gentlemen looking to get lucky with the young college student couldn't possibly fit the same mould?"

"Don't you dare pretend like you were taken advantage of Blaine. You knew what you were doing, you're an adult for God's sake stop acting like such a-"

"Go on," Blaine goaded, sniffling into the receiver "say it!"

"Like a child!" Kurt shouted and automatically regretted it, before he could try and apologise Blaine was talking again. "I'm done." He said clearly crying. "That's it I can't do this anymore." Kurt opened his mouth to protest, to beg him not to give up them but was cut off. Panic started to rise up his throat like bile.


A loud crash echoed through the speaker followed by a scream and the sound of Blaine's panicked voice before the line went dead.




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