Maybe fate isn't the pond you swim in, but instead the fisherman floating on top of it, letting you run the line wild until you are weary enough to be reeled back in. – Jodi Picoult

~

                "What the fuck are you doing here?"

                "I'm sorry."

                "I asked a fucking question."

                "I said I'm sorry."

                "And I asked you something. Answer the damn question, Blaine."

                The curly haired man was lost. He looked for any ounce of forgiveness in Kurt's eyes, but as far as he could tell, there was no bit of warmth in those icy blues.

                "I... I wanted to... I wanted to come back. To you." He admits, closing his eyes as he braces himself for a insult, a retort. Anything.

                But Kurt waits. For twelve excruciatingly slow seconds, he just gazes into Blaine's eyes. He’s trying to figure out if this dick is sincere. No, of course he’s not.

                "You wanted to come back? After all this time? Blaine you fucked me over, literally, and then never spoke to me again. For like, a year. And you- you told me," Kurt stops, swallowing the lump in his throat. He blinks away his tears, trying to stay strong. "You told me you wanted this."

                "I'm sorry, Kurt, I-"

                Kurt's hand smacks across Blaine's face, and shock covers both of their faces. But Kurt does not apologize. Not this time.

                Blaine presses his five fingers to his cheek, which is now stinging red from the impact of Kurt’s palm. Blaine does not respond. He can’t. Not this time.

                “I think it best if you leave.” Kurt insists, his voice low.

                Blaine looks at him, their stares meeting, and maybe, just maybe Kurt will let him stay, but this isn’t a Lifetime movie. This is real life, and Blaine has hurt Kurt more than he’d thought it would. And so Kurt is certain getting rid of Blaine might just erase the pain.

                But Kurt knows. Forgetting someone so amazing like that, is like trying to remember someone you’ve never even met.

                “Okay.” Blaine whispers.

                He knows he probably won’t get to see Kurt again, so he steps up to him, his soft, still shaken lips lightly brushing against the taller boy’s, and then he’s gone, slamming the door behind him. Kurt is left to cry, the tears streaming down his face as he cries himself to sleep, hopeful that all this might just be over.

                Because Blaine was Kurt’s could’ve been,

                His should’ve been,

                But he never was,

                And he never will be.

~

                “I’m not gonna giiiiiive up.” Blaine assures Rachel, his drunken words slurring on his tongue. His mind is spinning, because Blaine has had four shots, and surprisingly, he’s already very, very drunk.

                It’s been six days since he’s last spoken to Kurt, and this night is very much like the last several.

                “I’m sure you’re not sweetie.” Rachel says, rolling her eyes, taking another sip of her drink. This is the eighth time poor, drunken Blaine has said that. Rachel feels awful for stealing Blaine away to produce her foreign film, but it wasn’t all her fault. Blaine never even told Kurt he left the country.

                “You’re very, verrry, verrryyy pretty, Rachel.”

                “Thank you, Blaine.”

                “You know who else is very, verrry pretty?”

                “Who, Blaine?”

                “Kurrrrtttttt.” He exclaims, dragging out his name as he slams his head onto the bar counter, attracting the attention of a few other people around them.

                “I know, I know.” Rachel murmurs, rubbing the man’s back reassuringly. Blaine’s shoulder shake, and now Rachel knows he’s crying. Personally, she doesn’t understand why Blaine cared so much. Kurt was a one night stand, nothing else. It’s not like they were dating. But according to Blaine, it could have been something amazing.

                Blaine takes four hundred and ninety two more inhales, and four hundred and ninety three more exhales before realizing that he will not take no for an answer. He’s going to win Kurt back, he’s sure of it.

                If only he’d figured this out before the four, now five shots of tequila had settled in, because Blaine can barely walk, let alone process his thoughts.

                He sees the faint outline of Rachel hoisting him up, as she tries to bring him to the car. They stumble, but they make it.

                Within minutes, they’re at Rachel’s apartment, Blaine drifting in and out of consciousness every few seconds.

                “Come on, Blaine. Almost there.” She whispers into his ear, as she unlocks the door, and hauls Blaine inside, before flopping him onto the couch.

                “Rachel?” The voice nearly scares Rachel to death, as she whips around. Kurt.

                “Kurt, Jesus, you scared the hell out of me. Forgot you had a spare key.” She says, sighing.

                Kurt shrugs, as he’s only half apologetic. "Just needed to get my book I left here yesterday. " His heart flips as he looks at Blaine, sprawled out on Rachel’s cushions.

                Blaine’s red string of fate had fastened itself onto Kurt’s once again, and although Kurt was reluctant, he couldn’t stop the feeling of the butterflies in his stomach at the sight of the gorgeous, drunken man on his friend’s couch.