The weekend passed rather uneventfully. Blaine pushed his awkward feelings to the back of his mind and tried to enjoy the sunshine and the fact that Kurt only had a 3 pm show on Sunday. Blaine had dinner ready when he got home and then they watched a movie. It was just nice and quiet, nothing special. But these days Blaine lived for these moments.
Blaine didn't want to think that he was one of those annoying dependent people who lived solely for their spouse. Because he wasn't. It was just that Kurt happened to be the most incredible thing to ever have walked into his life and there would never be a point when he did not want to live his life with him. And lately, it just felt like they weren't living as much as they were visiting each other, living like room mates. Not like partners, not like people who had chose to live together out of love and need to one another. And it really bothered Blaine.
But perhaps most of of all it bothered Blaine that Kurt didn't seem to see it the same way. Everything was so new and exciting to him and life was thriving. He would go out with the cast after shows and come home in the middle of the night, tripping over the carpet and waking Blaine up. And Blaine couldn't go with him because he had to work in the morning and when he did go he felt like a stranger. Sure he blended in well enough, Blaine was a fully socially competent man. But these people spent so much time together that it would be impossible for anyone not to feel like a stranger when they laughed at the way they'd made a mistake in the show or spoke of coming projects. Sometimes Kurt would squeeze his hand or knee and smile at him and Blaine would make a comment and the conversation would keep going and Kurt would throw his head back in laughter and clap his hands and Blaine smiled because he was happy that Kurt was happy, with friends, but he was itching to make something more of this life.
It wasn't that often that Kurt came home drunk, he didn't want to jeopardize his health or voice, but every time he did it made Blaine flinch a little bit. Because he wasn't used to Kurt partying without him and honestly he wasn't that used to Kurt partying at all. Of course they went out sometimes but it seemed now that Kurt wanted the whole package of being an artist. He wanted to live the dream and Blaine couldn't blame him one tiny bit.
But when Kurt on Sunday night reached forward to grab his phone off the coffee table, dragging the blanket with him, and declared that he was going to meet Marcel and Gareth and Jane for “a couple of drinks” Blaine couldn't help but to feel alone.
Kurt stood up and put the blanket over Blaine again, inviting him to come along but obviously knowing the answer as he the same breath leaned down to kiss Blaine on the forehead. Blaine smiled faintly.
“Nah, you go. I have Ivan at eight tomorrow.”
“Right.” Kurt grabbed the pair of black jeans he had taken off to get comfortable in the couch and threw his supposedly “cozy” and “baggy” jeans on the armchair. How those pants could be fall under any of those categories was beyond Blaine understanding but Kurt used to argue that “they're stretch” like it was the wildest thing in the world.
“Don't wait up!” Kurt called from the hall after quickly fixing his hair and grabbed a pair of gloves of the shelf and waved them at Blaine. “Sleep well, honey!”
“Good night, have fun,” Blaine answered, not bothering to get out up as Kurt was already opening the door and blowing him a kiss. And then he was gone.
Blaine closed his eyes for a moment, sinking down in the couch and listened to the dull music of the credits of the movie they had been watching. Even though it was nice and warm under the blanket there was a significant difference from when Kurt had been at the other side with his legs on Blaine's just minutes ago. The contrast was so sharp when Blaine stretched out his legs and there was no protest. From his exposed feet spread a sensation of coldness through his body, like a dull ache. The fact that Kurt had left him when he might as well have stayed at home was the worst part. It meant that he'd rather be somewhere else than right here, with Blaine, on the couch in his ridiculous pants and letting his hair get messed up against the cushions. And Blaine didn't want him to be somewhere else, because Blaine couldn't be there.
He heaved up from the sofa and switched off the TV and thought about how ridiculous he was being. So what if Kurt wanted to go out with his friends the one night before his only free day and live a little? He sure as hell was entitled. He wasn't obliged to spend every moment he could with his boyfriend. That would be ridiculous.
It wasn't as if he saw them every other day of the week. Blaine rolled his eyes and headed to the bathroom. He might as well get ready for bed.
The thing was, Blaine thought about the time when Kurt was obliged to spend every moment he could with him. Simply because he wanted to. Among friends they would huddle together and when they got home nothing could tear them apart.
Of course the sort of desperately clinging behavior that new love brings had subdued with time, becoming less clingy and more natural, acting like an extension of each other's bodies. It's a wonderful thing, knowing another person so throughly that you don't even have to look at them to know what they're doing. But it also becomes very evident when they're not there, it's like a part of you is missing, as cheesy as that may sound.
Blaine was such a physical being – he'd always shown his love through his actions, written all over his face and body. Before they got together and before Blaine even realized what Kurt meant to him he had still always been drawn to him. Not in a sexual way, just in the way that it had felt so natural to be near him and reach out to him. Blaine was comfortable around most people, often coming across as flirty when he was just being friendly, but Kurt had been different, so instant. Kurt however hadn't been as accustomed to touching as him in the beginning, they were simply different in that way. Not that it ever had been a real problem and like Blaine Kurt was always expressing his emotions through his body language, but Blaine was dependent on physical closeness. It was probably a deeply psychologic reason for this, rooting in his deprived childhood or whatever, but to Blaine it was just part of his personality.
So to feel like the one person who has been there for the entirety of Blaine grown up life was slipping away, even walking away, is physically painful.
Blaine thought about all this, as he was brushing his teeth and cleaning his face, taking on his pajamas and sliding in between the cool sheets. Perhaps not in so many words, but he thinks about how they used to be, and how they still are but how that cold feeling has started weight down his chest the past months. It's not all the time, and it's not unbearable. It's just strange, like a touch he didn't ask for. Like a touch he can't have.

*

Blaine was a heavy sleeper, always had been. When he was a child he once slept through the fire alarm – fortunately there wasn't a real fire and he probably wouldn't do that now. Because there is an exception. When he's waiting for Kurt to come home, or is anxious in any way, he sleeps lightly, letting sounds interfere with his dreams.
That is why he woke up and squinted at the alarm clock at 2.15, the second after the door was locked up. Honestly, he was barely awake, a fine line threading the difference between half asleep and half awake. But his mind slowly registered Kurt's fumbling in the hall and quick visit to the bathroom (five minutes was quick for his usually elaborate skin care routine). Blaine was almost drifting off when Kurt entered the bedroom, obviously trying to be as quiet as possible but failing vividly as he hit his toe against the bed.
“Fuck!” he hissed and stumbled down on the bed with a loud thud. There is no way that Blaine would not wake from this disturbance, even though he would like to just pretend to be asleep so that he doesn't have to face a drunk Kurt. He had to get up in four hours and besides, drunk Kurt isn't as fun as it sounds at two in the morning.
Kurt had landed diagonally across the bed, with his face down besides Blaine's pillow. He grunted an apology and sat on his knees, pulling off his shirt and looking down on Blaine.
Blaine adjusted himself deeper down under the blanket and yawned.
“That's okay... Just try to sleep, okay,” he mumbled, making himself sound sleepier than he actually was and hoping to distract from the fact that Kurt obviously had taken off his shirt in a sensual manner and now was leaning down towards Blaine and biting his lip as he tried to get his jeans unbuttoned. Blaine would have found it highly amusing had it been under different circumstances, because those buttons were tricky and Kurt's hand were uncoordinated in this state and Kurt's expression went from sultry to concentrated to frustrated within seconds. However, Blaine just felt annoyed, why was Kurt being such a baby?
Blaine sighed and sat up a little, motioning to Kurt to roll over on his back and he happily obliged and started humming softly as Blaine unbuttoned his fly and started pulling off his pants.
“Lift your ass,” he said and Kurt's singing was interrupted by snicker as he lifted his hips a bit higher than necessary. Blaine rolled his eyes and had to crawl down to the foot of the bed to peel the jeans off his giggling boyfriend. He threw them towards the chair by the desk which always ended up covered in clothes and then lied back down on the mattress. Kurt had gone silent and rolled off the bed to slip under the covers. Under the covers and over Blaine.
He snaked a hand over Blaine's t-shirt and nuzzled in tight to his neck, his eyelashes tickling with every blink. It did not exactly appear that he has sleep on his mind.
“Kurt, you know I have to work in the morning,” said Blaine and turned his face away from him to look at the clock again. Kurt took this opportunity to lick the exposed muscle of Blaine's neck. Licking – you really are drunk Blaine thought, somewhat amused but mostly irritated and stressed because he knew that for every minute that passed he decreased his chance of getting a good night's sleep.
“But it's been so looooong,” Kurt complained and bit the line of Blaine jaw sloppily, but clearly determined.
Blaine allowed himself to close his eyes for a brief second because yes, it had been too long. But he knew that if he let this get any further he would screw up his sleeping habits and end up with the entire week messed up and exhausted. He shifted a bit to put some distance between them but Kurt only drew in closer. What part of “no” do you not understand? Blaine thought as Kurt's leg wrapped over Blaine's.
“Kurt, I'm serious, I want to sleep,” he said and pushed Kurt away with his shoulder. He felt Kurt freeze against him and was expecting a protest of some sort but he simply sighed dramatically and collapsed on his back. Blaine immediately missed the warmth of his body.
“Fine,” Kurt said and pulled up the blanket to his chin, clearly not happy about this but aware of that he couldn't force Blaine to sleep with him. He turned his back to him. “Good night, Blaine.”
Blaine was torn between the impulse to draw him back in and kiss him, and the rational option of turning around and going to sleep. He settled on the middle road and hoped that Kurt wouldn't get the wrong idea.
“Hey come here,” he said and curled up against Kurt, an arm over his bare waist under the blanket and a closed eye in his hair. He smiled faintly as Kurt relaxed against him, but not before smacking his tongue and remarking that Blaine was such a cuddle whore.
“Hm, really, is that so?” Blaine murmured.
“Yes!” said Kurt as if it the most obvious thing in the world.
Blaine just hmmm:ed a little against Kurt's neck, not particularity minding that he was agreeing to his statement.
“Hmmmm,” Kurt echoed, sliding from a freakishly high pitch down to Blaine's low mumble. Even though Kurt was in one of his crazy moods, Blaine could sense him calming down and sinking down against the bed, accepting the prospect of sleep.
“Lucky for you, so am I,” Kurt confessed in a exaggerated whisper and Blaine patted his stomach a little.
“Yes, very lucky. Now sleep,” Blaine said in the same phoney way, not wanting to encourage Kurt but finding it hard to resist.
“Schhh...” Kurt hushed as if Blaine had been the one disrupting the quiet of the night. Blaine inhaled deeply as he snuggled in closer to prove that he now was going to sleep. Kurt yawned and Blaine knew he had won.
“I love you,” Kurt drawled in the next yawn, his mouth so wide open that Blaine could feel his neck and shoulders tensing.
“I love you too.”
It was a little funny how Blaine could be fuming with Kurt one second and so content the next. But then again, Blaine depended on physical closeness, and right then this was exactly what he needed. Just to fall a sleep wrapped over Kurt. Just to know that he was there.

*

Monday morning doesn't have a very nice ring to it. The alarm was going off in a torturous manner and the two men stirred grumpily. Blaine groaned but forced himself to separate his skin from Kurt's side and reach for his beeping phone on the nightstand. It was something of an effort to stay upright and not lie down again – the room was cold and the bed was so warm.
Blaine yawned and stretched as he swung his legs over the bedside and let the chilling sensation of the floor send uncomfortable shivers all through his body. Oh how he hated early mornings, especially when it sounded like a storm outside.
As Blaine stood up, empowered with the though of coffee, a small whimper came from the bed. Blaine picked up a cardigan from the chair and turned around to find Kurt sprawled out across the bed, arms and legs sticking out from under the cover. Blaine couldn't tell if he was awake or not, because Kurt had his eyes closed but was flailing with his arms as if he was searching for something.
It was a suicide mission but Blaine couldn't just leave him like that. So he climbed onto the bed again and grasped Kurt's hand.
“Hey hey, sch... just go back to sleep,” he whispered and started pulling at the quilt to cover Kurt's limbs. Kurt curled up into a little ball at his touch and opened one squinting eye.
“Am I alive?” he said, his voice husky and cracking at the vowels.
Blaine stroked a lock of hair out of Kurt's forehead and tried not to be too condescending in his answer. He hated seeing Kurt like this, but while one part of him wanted to hold him another part wanted to scream at his self pity. Kurt had brought this on himself, he could have just stayed at home with Blaine.
“I have to go to work,” he said and placed a kiss on his temple, avoiding any risk of morning breath mingling. “I'll be home at three.”
Kurt's head twitched in what Blaine interpreted as a nod so he got up and Kurt scrunched his eyes together and put Blaine's pillow over his ear. Off to face another day.

*

Blaine knew that it was going to be a shitty day. There just was no getting around the fact that autumn of 2020 was planning on swallowing New York whole and pestering them with grey skies and ashen faces. It did not exactly help that Blaine would be coming home to a grumpy hungover boyfriend and then going to sleep and repeating it all. Life was a little tedious at the moment, and he was a little lost in the routine of it all.
Blaine enjoyed his work though. There was no denying that his dreams of singing on stage and writing music had been put aside years ago to be able to pay rent. He had started giving singing lessons as a stray job but ended up working as a vocal coach at a private school. It was quite a prestigious job at such a young age, but at 26 years of age he had spent 22 of them learning music.
He loved being able to help young musicians to find their own voice and way, that was why he had stuck around and stopped pursuing those big stage dreams. There also comes a time in your life when you need to look at where you are and where you want to be. Sort out your priorities and figure out what's realistic. Getting rejected year after year, audition after audition, takes a lot energy and the thought of settling for the next best thing doesn't seem so bad after all.
So maybe Blaine had let go of his dreams a little. It wasn't as if he hadn't tried. And it had never been a conscious decision to let go. All those big plans had just faded with time, slipping away until all he was left with were the dreams of his pupils.
Blaine tried not to think about these things too hard, because it left him with itchy fingers. Instead he focused his energy into getting his students to sound as good as possible, channeling their love of singing into their performance and hoping that they'd never stop. It made him happy to see their progress, knowing that he'd helped them on their way. And he was working with music, what more could he ask for?
Perhaps a late morning.
Blaine shrugged off his coat as soon as he was inside the office and draped it over the back of his chair, hoping that it would be somewhat dry by the end of the day. It was, like every Monday, empty in the office that he shared with two other music teachers. He picked up his sheet music folder for Ivan and took a deep breath before he hurried down the corridor and let the morning tumble on.

*

“Care if I join you?”
Blaine looked up from the song he was transposing for an afternoon class and was met by a big smile and long red hair.
“Fiona! How are you?” He greeted and put his papers away, clearing the place across the table.
“Ah you know, same old, same old...” Fiona waved her hand in a dismissive manner as and put down her plate and swopped down on the chair. Blaine smiled at this, knowing Fiona she had probably participated in a hunger strike and an art project involving paint and nakedness this weekend. That would be same old for her. “But what I really want to know... How are you?”
Her eyes pierced Blaine, it was like she saw into his soul. That is perhaps something of an exaggeration but nevertheless – she was a very intense woman who had seen a lot more in her 30ish years than most people see in a lifetime. She could read people very well and this was not the first time Blaine had felt an interrogation coming.
“Nah, I'm okay,” he shrugged, knowing that that was not going to be close to enough of an answer he added “I'm just having an off day. This weather is killing me.”
Fiona lifted a thin eyebrow and pointed her fork at Blaine's plate.
“Something's telling me that it's a bit more than the weather. Normally you eat like a horse, Blaine.” She began piercing peas from her plate onto her fork and eating them one by one as if they were berries on a straw. Fiona had these peculiar habits. People often passed of off as crazy, but she was just an odd figure. A true artist. She was eccentric and spontaneous. Blaine had liked her right away. “Boyfriend troubles?”
“Well, Kurt came home drunk last night,” Blaine said. He didn't see the point in not telling. They were friends and she was willing to listen. “And that means I will be coming home to Mr Diva who will have me fetching tea and whatnot every fifteen seconds.”
“I thought you loved pampering him,” Fiona said, like the psychoanalyst that she clearly strived to be. He was is walking straight into this one.
“I do! I love to take care of him and make him happy but lately... I don't know. Things have been a little off.” Blaine shrugged and tried to interpret Fiona expression – she was squinting and chewing slowly as if working out a riddle.
“Hm,” she simply said and then leaned across the table, her necklace clonking into her glass. “I have the perfect solution.”
Blaine's first reaction was fear.
“I don't think bathing in milk is gonna solve anything.” It hadn't last time. Fiona smirked and rolled her eyes.
“Not that. We should go out to dinner!” She drew back to the back of her chair again opened her arms. “Problem solved!”
Blaine frowned and snickered.
“How does that solve anything?”
“You get to escape from your boyfriend's wicked ways, I get to grill you about his wicked ways and you get to eat a proper meal after this anorexic behavior,” Fiona explained as if reading it off a chart. “What do you say?”
Blaine hesitated. It would definitely be nice to eat out for a change, and Fiona would keep good company. But, this was Kurt's only free night and they always spent Mondays together.
“I don't know... Kurt would not be happy...” He made an apologetic face.
Fiona sighed and hooked her eyes into Blaine's.
“Blaine, you cannot let Kurt run your life. He's a big boy, surely he can manage one night without foot massage,” she said, the temperature in her voice lowering by the second. She was not particular fond of Kurt. They had only met once briefly and given each other the once over, greeting cooly. Blaine thought it was strange, because in many ways they were alike – quirky and colorful and highly intelligent. But Kurt had dismissed her as a loony hippie and although Fiona had never said it out loud, Blaine could tell she thought Kurt was a bit stuck up. He couldn't really blame her though, every time he had a really bad day, the type of day that was written all over your face, it was because he had fought with Kurt. And it seemed that Fiona was especially good at sensing sadness.
Today however, Blaine was not so much sad as he was disappointed, and therefore a little angry. Just a little. Why would he stay at home for the sake of it when Kurt had no intention of doing the same?
“It's a date,” he decided with a cramped smile. Fiona's grin seemed a bit more sincere. “As long as we don't go to a place that only serves crocodiles and monkey brains.”
“Oh Blaine, you know I don't eat wild meat,” Fiona laughed and got up. “Pick me up at seven?”
“Sure.” She patted his shoulder as she walked by.
“See you then, Blaine.”
*
Blaine was greeted with the buzzing sound of the sowing machine when he walked in the door.
“Hello!” he called out and removed his jacket. The sun had come out after all and his mood had elevated a little. The sound from the living room stopped and Kurt greeted him back. Blaine picked up the bag with groceries and walked through the living room into the kitchen.
“What are you doing?” he asked Kurt's back.
“Just fixing a rip in this shirt and sowing some buttons – CPR for clothes basically,” Kurt said as Blaine started placing food in the refrigerator.
“You got a headache?” Blaine had picked up Alka-Seltzer, just in case.
“Like you wouldn't believe. It's better now though.” Kurt voice was closer, he was leaning against the counter behind Blaine. “I'm pretty sure I swam home.”
Blaine snorted.
“I've seen worse,” he reassured and folded up the bag and put it in a drawer next to Kurt.
“Yeah, so have I,” Kurt said and raised a brow at him.
“Ah, come on, I am not that bad! You practically molested me last night.”
“Oh Blaine, you know what this always will lead back to,” Kurt said in a singsong voice and Blaine rolled his eyes. Every time. “I molesting you will never be half as bad as you molesting Rachel. And then dating her. Sober. And you cannot argue with this.”
Blaine could not argue with that. But he could try.
“Oh Kurt, you are a limited man. Rachel has depths that you will never know of!” he teased.
“That's disgusting.”
Blaine scrunched his face together.
“I didn't mean that!”
“Now I've really got a headache...” Kurt groaned and pouted. Blaine laughed and poured him a glass of water.
“I bought Alka-Seltzer for you,” he said and handed Kurt the glass. “Again.”
“Do I detect a hint of bitterness? Are you claiming that I am a gold digger, alluring you to buy me hangover medicine until you're broke and I can toss you away like a bottle cork?” Despite Kurt's state he was sharp as a tack when it came to wit. It was as if it pumped through his veins, unstoppable and at all times. Blaine could swear that Kurt wasn't aware of half of the funny things he said until he said them, it was simply his way of thinking. And putting it into words that no one else could. “I have been caught.”
So despite the fact that yes, Blaine was actually a little bitter, he couldn't help but to smile. If not because Kurt was being cute, he felt a sting of guilt since this was pretty much what he had complained to Fiona about. Perhaps not in so many and so dramatic words, but it had been implied that he felt a little used.
Blaine cleared his throat and opened the cabinet to their vast coffee collect.
“So now that I know that Mr Seltzer will be taking care of you, I'm going out to dinner with Fiona tonight,” he said.
“Oh,” Kurt said after a second and Blaine reached for the instant mocha. “On our sacred day?”
“There is nothing sacred about Mondays, Kurt,” Blaine tried to joke but as he fiddled with the coffee machine he could see Kurt's mouth tensing and his posture getting straighter.
“Well, Blaine, you may not think so but they are to me. I even picked out a movie for us to watch... Cabaret!” Kurt said as if that was the worst crime of all. Blaine felt a tingling sensation of irritation running up his back.
“Well I'm sorry, I guess I just figured that after the movie you would either run out on me or, oh I don't know – fall asleep,” Blaine snapped and gestured wildly with the coffee cups in his hands.
“Excuse me,” Kurt hissed. “Run out on you? If you are talking about last night I invited you to come along, but you refused, because you always do, Blaine. And fall asleep?!Do you mean Friday night, because I said I was sorry about that and there is really nothing else I can do!”
Blaine exhaled through his nose and turned around to the counter. Blaine could not sit this one out, but he was a little afraid of what might come out of his mouth right now so he needed a moment. And the silence hung in the air, thick as tension, before he started talking, slowly but with force.
“Really, because last time I checked it was not obligatory to spend Sunday nights with your friends and get wasted.” Blaine turned around again and continued before Kurt could interrupt. “I don't recall seeing in your contract that you would wear yourself out to the point where you snooze off when your boyfriend's trying to give you a blow job. And I don't remember losing so much sleep over waiting for you to come home, just so that I'll see you at all. So I just figured that maybe, for a change, I would get out of this fucking apartment and go to a nice restaurant with my friend, at a reasonable hour, and enjoy myself a little.” Blaine wasn't screaming, but it was close enough. He took a breath, lowering his tone slightly. “But if that is too much to ask, please, do tell.”
His heart was beating fast, but it was almost an relief. As if it had been waiting to be released at any rate. He'd watched Kurt clutching his glass and narrowing his eyes, knowing as he went that this easily could be turned into a shouting match. But he didn't care. All this pressure in his chest was screaming for release and all he felt was anger. Anger for carrying this around all day and angry at Kurt being so na�ve. Angry at himself because he knew how petty he sounded when he just wanted Kurt to understand that he has been missing him colossally. And there is guilt and shame and loneliness but it all just adds up into a heap of anger.
And Blaine has seen the same emotion flicking through Kurt's eyes and the moment Blaine stopped and invited him into the argument, saying please bite back so that we can put this behind us, he expected a war. Because Kurt was not one who backs down, he fought to the death of it when he was right and Blaine knew that he partly was.
But Blaine watched as Kurt face went blank. Seconds passed. Kurt's eyes flickered between Blaine and the coffee machine.
“Of course you should go out,” he finally said. His voice was strangely calm and steady, perhaps a bit lower than usual. He took a cup from the counter and placed it under the coffee machine. Blaine frowned and watched closely, as if waiting for a bomb to explode.
But it didn't.
“We can watch the movie now instead,” Kurt continued, as if they had had a quiet discussion about this all along. “I'll be too tired later anyway.”
Blaine knew he should feel grateful, glad that he had such an understanding and mature boyfriend. But all he could feel was confusion, a sense of being lost. They had fought many times but never had either of them backed down like this. They would apologize when they had been wrong, when the stupidity of the situation settled in and could accept their mistake and move on. It had made them stronger as a whole, building them up rather than tearing them apart.
But this was a different kind of wall. A wall between them, and for a brief second Blaine saw it – as real as the table or his own nose. It was when Kurt had looked down at the floor with heavy eyelids, and then looked to his left, on the clock on the wall and away from Blaine. So very, very far away.
Blaine swallowed. He didn't know what to make of this.
“But you just said...” he started because he needed so desperately to cling to the anger, not the unease.
Kurt rubbed his temples and closed his eyes.
“Please, Blaine, not now,” he said and Blaine could hear his pain. He just wished he knew where it was coming from. And Blaine, compassionate and caring Blaine, could not stay angry. Not when Kurt begged him not to. Not when he had no right to be.
“Okay, fine,” he said. But the words were heavy, difficult to drag out of his mouth and placing them in the air. A such tremendous lie.
Kurt took the coffee cup and handed it to him.
“I better not have any. I need to hydrate.” Kurt offered him a quick smile and touched Blaine's hand over the cup. “Hey... I'm not upset that you're going out so wipe that sulky look of your face. You win okay? I get it, I'm high maintenance sometimes. I know that.”
Blaine wanted to shout that that's not the issue, that if he could he would spoil him rotten. But he only got to shaking his head before Kurt placed a hand on his cheek and kissed him on the lips. It was short and dry but Kurt smiled afterwards and Blaine's train of thought got lost for one sweet moment. Then he blinked and Kurt was prancing off to the living room, turning the TV on and climbing up in the sofa.
“Are you coming?”
Blaine looked down at his coffee. The smell of mocha filled the kitchen, rich and sweet. A scent he'd always associated with Kurt and his time at Dalton. With youth and love.
Not with the numbness that was crawling beneath his skin, taking over the previous rush of adrenaline.
“I'll be right there,” he answered.
Blaine spilled the brown liquid into the sink and let the water run. He didn't know why. He never let coffee go to waste.

***