Kurt woke up the next morning, curled around a pillow and cold, very cold. It was barely even light outside as he struggled against sleep and vaguely realised that the reason he was so cold was due to the fact that Blaine was no longer stretched out beneath him sleeping soundly. He was wide awake within seconds when he heard a clatter and a broken groan from the bathroom.

Panicking, Kurt grabbed a pair of boxers from the floor and ran to the bathroom, coming to a halt in the doorway. Blaine was hunched over sitting on the tiled floor next to the toilet with his arms wrapped tightly around his stomach. He'd wrapped himself in the sweater Kurt had been wearing the day before and he looked so incredibly tired.

"Hey baby" Kurt said softly, kneeling in front of Blaine and brushing the damp curls from his forehead, feeling the burning skin and hissing in sympathy. "Hey" Blaine croaked "sorry I woke you."

"Don't be silly Blaine. Are you okay?"

"‘m fine" he mumbled, leaning into Kurt's cool touch and relishing in the relief it gave to his scorching skin. "Were you sick? Is it because-?" Blaine just nodded and sighed forlornly, beckoning Kurt closer and making grabby hands for him, heavy eyes blinking slowly. Kurt wrapped his arms around him carefully and pulled him back against his chest.

"This is just the beginning you know" Blaine whispered fearfully "it's gonna get worse, so much worse."

With those words Kurt realised just how difficult the next month was going to be. How agonising it could get for Blaine and he found himself briefly doubting whether he could allow him to go through with it at all. There was no doubt that Kurt would be by his side every step of the way and the notion of whether or not Blaine would be strong enough to endure it wasn't even a question. Blaine was a fighter so Kurt was determined to be the one in his corner.

.oO0Oo.

Blaine made the call. Elmbank Rehabilitation Services, three sessions a week with a supervisor and councillor called ‘Trace' and medical overseer Dr Lin. He was asked questions about his history of drug use and his dependence levels, underlying mental and physical health problems, sexual health and whether he'd been tested (he had, was regularly, he may have been an addict and had his fair share of sexual partners but he wasn't an idiot), his environment and support system. Kurt was there to hold his hand and keep his breathing under control the entire time.

Admitting to and sharing all of the information required was difficult and uncomfortable and it just made Blaine feel even more ashamed. The lady on the other end of the phone kept congratulating him and his head was just screaming at him ‘yeah congrats you had a fucked up life, got hooked on heroin and did some stupid ass shit that hurt practically everyone around you but that's okay because at least you're doing something about it this time around, even though you've failed once before'.

His details were taken. The scheduling discussed (Tuesdays, Thursdays and Sundays for a month), information and medical guides mailed and by the time he'd hung up the phone he was relieved but aggravated and solemn.

Kurt convinced him to write Arabella a letter and maybe draw her something soon after but it ended up just being Blaine regaling stories of her antics like the time he took her to an exhibition and she ended up scaling someone's sculpture. He almost burst into tears.

So after several failed attempts, some tears and some laughter they returned to their sanctuary. Art had always been their escape and a chance to revel in each other.

.oO0Oo.

Blaine decided that if he was going to get clean for anyone in particular it would probably be either for himself or for Kurt. He watched Kurt, shirtless, with the fading sunlight illuminating his skin, his hair, his eyes as he traced his index finger through the paint that Blaine had set aside.

The sweetest smile graced his lips, a scarlet blush blooming high on his cheeks as he caught Blaine staring. Obviously because Kurt was half naked and Blaine still fully clothed.

"Blaine please" Kurt mumbled "you too?"

"Of course baby. Fidati di me beautiful." He said softly, pulling off his shirt and sliding forward to wrap his arms around Kurt.

His slight shiver when Blaine spoke in Italian did not go unnoticed. Smirking, Blaine bought his lips to Kurt's neck, kissing softly across and under his jaw to rest at his ear. His breath drew hot and damp over the delicate skin, causing Kurt to gasp.

"You like it an awful lot don't you," Blaine whispered in his ear, rough and growling "when I speak Italian."

"Mmhmm, I do" Kurt stuttered, leaning against Blaine's chest, so close that he could feel the rise and fall of it, the beat of his heart.

"But I could be saying anything" Blaine chuckled.

"It's not so much what you say, it's the way you say it."

Blaine grinned, lips dragging wetly to the nape of Kurt's neck, moving to kiss across his broad shoulders and back. "Oh really?" He questioned. "So if I were to say something like. Ti desidero così tanto, sei talmente bello, sei perfetto!" Blaine's lips brushing the centre of Kurt's back made him shudder and blush a deeper shade of red, tinting the tips of his ears pink.

"It doesn't matter that I just told you I want you or that I said you're beautiful, perfect even! Just because my voice sounds like sex."

"Pretty much" Kurt shrugged playfully.

"Aww ever the romantic" Blaine said rolling his eyes.

"Oh hush you and give me wings!"

Blaine spent hours on Kurt's wings under the pretence that it would look artsy and imaginative in their portfolios when in all honesty he just wanted to see what it might look like. It was surprising sometimes when Blaine looked over at him and there were no majestic, snowy white wings sprouting from his back. So sue him, he was curious and needed an excuse to get him shirtless.

But Kurt with wings was breathtaking. Blaine worked on each feather stroke by stroke, icy blues, sea greens and stormy greys fanning out across his shoulders and back. The closed wings came to a tip at the two dimples at the base of Kurt's spine and his breath hitched with every swipe of cold paint to the tender skin.

Kurt didn't ask to see them when Blaine had finished, he just watched from over his shoulder as he put the brushes down with shaking hands. It seemed that their project had not succeeded in distracting Blaine from his withdrawal symptoms that appeared to have increased in intensity. Kurt turned, taking Blaine's hands in his and holding tight.

"Are you okay?" He asked softly. Blaine didn't feel like talking. "I'm fine" he replied with a watery smile, brow furrowed as he shifted uncomfortably. Noticing his unease, Kurt moved closer, knowing that Blaine needed him to ground him.

"How does it feel?" He asked tentatively, needing to understand what Blaine was going through. "It aches" Blaine replied quietly, laying down on the floor and pulling Kurt on top of him. "In your muscles, in your bones, you just feel heavy. The cramps started quickly but apparently my dependency levels aren't as severe this time around so they might not start up until later."

"Does it hurt?" Kurt whispered brokenly, sitting on Blaine's thighs and staring down at him. "I can't lie to you because if you're sticking around you'll be able to see for yourself but yes it does. It's fucking excruciating."

"I'm sorry" Kurt muttered, hands stroking over Blaine's chest rising and falling steadily beneath him. "Don't be," he said, stilling Kurt's hands and pulling him down against him "it'll be worth it."

.oO0Oo.

Blaine was fragile, vulnerable after that, clinging to him, kissing deep and needy. Kurt undressed him carefully, trying to coax Blaine into going slow, into making sure that Blaine couldn't be hurt by what they both obviously wanted in that moment.

Finally exposed and writhing beneath him, Kurt was made breathless by the sight of him. Tanned skin glowing in the light of the setting sun, sinking low beneath the New York skyline and filtering through the glass panels. His eyes wide and shining, pleading with him and so desperate. He sobbed with pleasure, drowning in Kurt's every touch, kiss and whisper, cracked open and exposed falling into sensation and trusting Kurt to catch him.

Everything was hot and slick with sweat, Blaine clutching at Kurt's back, his fingertips slipping through the paint streaking every inch of Kurt in colour as he clawed and pulled at him. Panting and keening on the living room floor, his lips swollen and parted and Kurt's hand buried in his hair as he rocked into him.

His moans were loud and unrestrained and Kurt was overwhelmed, enraptured by how perfectly wild and beautiful Blaine looked like that. Kurt was so covered in silvery blue and green paint that some had been transferred to Blaine, painting him like a canvas, a whining whimpering masterpiece for his eyes only.

Blaine clenched his eyes shut, his head turned to the side as he wrapped himself around Kurt, twisting and thrusting to get more, to get closer. He was lost until Kurt asked him to look at him, his eyes fluttered open, eyelids fighting to close from the pleasure but Blaine forced them open.

Kurt leant down to capture Blaine's lips in one last desperate kiss, a hot hard press of bruised flesh. Blaine cried out against Kurt's lips the sound and feel of him swamping his senses and they both fell into blissful oblivion.

The look in Kurt's eyes was unmistakeable and if Blaine had any doubts before that moment they were all promptly destroyed in a flash of midnight blue. Kurt Hummel was so completely, unbelievably in love with Blaine Anderson. And Blaine had finally found his muse.