“Blaine?” Santana pounded her fist against his door. “Blaine, open up!”

She tapped her foot once, twice, three times impatiently. “Blaine open the door, I swear to God-“

The door swung open. Blaine stood before her, withered. He was skinnier than usual, his face was covered in a layer of stubble, his hair was messy and curly, and looked like it hadn’t been washed in weeks. He had dark purple circles under his eyes, his skin was washed out. He looked somewhat like a drug addict going through the worst stages of withdrawal.

His body convulsed in shakes twice during the short space of time it took for Santana to evaluate the extent of Blaine’s… untidiness.

‘What the hell?”

“Hi, San.” Blaine rasped as he stepped aside to allow Santana inside the apartment.

“What the fuck is wrong with you? Did something die in here? You might as well be dead for all I know. Thanks again so much for answering my texts and phone calls by the way. And this is what you were doing? What a pathetic excuse. What does Sebastian think?”

“I wouldn’t know.”

“He didn’t”

“No. He’s out of town. Left the Monday before last. Chicago.”

“You need a shower, you smell like Mr. Tubbington’s feet.  And you do not want to know why they smell like they do.”

“Gross.”

“I know. So do you want to tell me why you’re sulking like this?”

“No.”

“Is it cause of what that little imp was talking about like forever ago? Kurt?”

“No. Absolutely not.”

Santana narrowed her eyes, completely aware that Blaine was lying, but the lie was exactly the right answer so she decided to accept it. “Okay. Good. You’re having a shower, right now.”

Kurt and Rachel had spent the last few days living in their comfiest home clothes watching bad movies and eating take out and ice-cream. Kurt had never really allowed himself to slip this far into melancholy over a boy, but there was something so fairytale about it all and he had become a little too swept up in it. Besides, the dreams that ran through his head about the future, the could-have’s and might-have-been’s were intoxicating.

He sat with his fingers clutching his phone, begging silently for a vibration to ring through his bones that signified a message. A message that would explain everything and would be proclamations of love and everything would be wonderful. Much to no avail, however.

Upon noticing Kurt’s eyes fall for the thirtieth time in this movie alone, Rachel whispered across to him. “Perhaps, you could message him? Maybe he’s waiting to hear from you.”

“That’s nice, Rachel, but I really don’t think so. If he’d wanted to talk to me, he would have by now. This is yet another time that I misinterpreted the situation.”

“Well, no, because you kissed so I don’t think you misinterpreted anything.  I really do think Blaine has a lot of stuff going on. From what that crazy woman he was with reacted, it sounded pretty serious.”

“Yeah, that’s true. That was unusual, wasn’t it? I’m pretty sure it was Santana, who is a little crazy, but still. I don’t know, she’s had it out for me since the very beginning.”

“Oh, but still. And who’s Tate?”

“Tate? What?”

“Did I not mention that? Yeah, she was really afraid of some guy called Tate knowing about you, but Blaine said that there was no way he would. I mean at first I thought it was the boyfriend, but that’s Sebastian right?”

“Yes.” Kurt said.

He racked his brain for a mention of the name ‘Tate’. Not from Blaine’s lips, but somewhere at some point he knew someone who knew a ‘Tate’. It made no sense to legitimately believe it, but for some reason Kurt felt sure that they were the same person. The last time he had heard something about this character was in high school, but spoken with fear as well. Karofsky, that was who. Karofsky knew someone called Tate.

“So, has Tate called you yet?” Santana badgered Blaine over slightly stale coffee.

“Why would he?” Blaine shook his head.

“Just for a chit-chat. Girl talk. Why do you think?”

“If this is still about the whole kissing thing, it’s fine. I haven’t spoken to Kurt since the day you found out. Which is like 8 days?”

“Oh. Now I get it. You’re moping. Mean old Satan took away your boy toy and you’re sad.”

“Fuck off, Santana. Just cause you were lucky enough to get picked up by a moron who doesn’t know left from right and is oh-so-endearing and fall hopelessly infatuated with her. You have no idea what it is like to feel uncomfortable every second of the day with the person you have to spend all your time with. Brittany probably forgets half the time the nature of your ‘relationship’. Sebastian has absolutely no problems exercising his control over me. Stop patronizing me and treating me like an idiot. I’ve been doing this a lot longer than you, remember?”

“I know. Blaine, I-“

“Run along, San. Please, just go.”

The sound of a key sliding easily into the lock at the front door sent Blaine into a slight frenzy.

“Is that Sebastian? Is he coming back today?”

“No, no, Tuesday. He must be early.”

“Today is a Tuesday. You’re an idiot.”

Blaine rushed to clean up the mugs on the kitchen bench. The apartment wasn’t in too much of a state, so Blaine was sure that Sebastian wouldn’t kick up too much of a fuss.

“Blaine?”

“Bas! I’m in the kitchen.”

“I cannot even begin to tell you how glad I am to be home. I missed you so much, B.”

“Hey Sebastian. Welcome home, I’m just going.” Santana said awkwardly, dashing past him towards the door.

“Oh hey, San. Thanks! Bye.” He came up behind Blaine who was rinsing the mugs at the sink and wrapped his arms around the smaller boy’s waist. “I really did miss you.”

“Me too, Bas.” Blaine felt lips on his neck, then the side of his jaw until Sebastian turned his face to kiss him lovingly on the lips. Blaine swiveled in his arms and allowed himself to be pulled closer to the warmth of his boyfriend’s chest. He breathed in Sebastian’s scent and fought the urge to wrinkle his nose at it.

Large, strong hands roamed freely across his back, underneath the thin fabric of his shirt. They dug slightly into his skin in the way that Sebastian did when he was overcome with desire.

Sebastian tugged on the cotton covering Blaine’s chest, pulling it over his arms. Blaine was soft and warm, though his ribs poked out in a way they didn’t when he left. He was familiar and beautiful and Sebastian never wanted to let him go. He kissed his collarbones, his fingertips, his neck, jaw, stomach, hoping to speak how much Blaine meant to him without words. Blaine, though feeling the press of lips to his skin, reacted only as he thought he was meant to and completely missed the point.

Every touch that Sebastian doted with more love than he knew how to bear was misinterpreted as a ploy to seduce. Any moment that Blaine smiled into the nook of Sebastian’s shoulder was a smile meant for another boy, but Sebastian accepted as a gift for him alone. In an act that should have been filled with the love and passion between two people, they slipped by each other, only able to find a sense of happiness in the sanctity of their imagination.