Sit talking up all night, saying things we havent for a while. Were smiling but were close to tears, even after all these years we just now got the feeling that were meeting for the first time. Oh, these times are hard – they are making us crazy. Don't give up on me, baby.

For the First Time – The Script

The time skips were getting worse and living with Kurt was making Blaine more aware of them.  His one comfort was that at least time was progressing linearly and was not jumping around forwards and backwards.  He wasn't sure that he'd be able to deal with that on top of everything else.  He'd tried keeping a diary hoping that when time skipped it would fill in and give him something to go off – but nothing.  Whatever happened during the time skips he didn't appear to fill in his diary without conscious effort so he'd given up. 

His appointments with the Otolaryngologyist (throat specialist) were going well and he was getting used to the breathy, rough, alien voice that was ‘his'.  He preferred to stay mute than use it – telling himself he was ‘resting' his voice to give it the best chance of recovering some semblance of normality.  Kurt had tried to encourage him to talk to him but Blaine flat out refused.

Kurt had stopped playing any music with lyrics in the apartment and had stopped consciously singing in the shower.  Blaine was grateful in a way – he desperately missed singing, but he took it upon himself to make sure that Kurt's favourite music was on when he came home from work at Vogue.com – mainly show tunes.  He filled his time furiously practicing and composing with his guitar or violin.  After finding out about Blaine's true proficiency with guitar, violin and piano, Kurt had probed and found out that Blaine could play many, many more instruments.  After a conversation with Blaine's mother he'd had some more of Blaine's instruments shipped to New York (cello and keyboard to start with).  Consequentially the room that had been Dare's was now a fusion of Kurt's wardrobe/dressing room and Blaine's music room.  Blaine had become a perfectionist and would no longer tolerate any imperfections in his playing.  His therapist told him he was compensating.  Blaine had stopped seeing the therapist. 

Blaine had taken to wearing scarves all the time, hugely self-conscious initially of the distortion and bruising to his throat, but then once the swelling had gone down and the bruising had faded he still preferred to hide his neck.  Kurt had tried to convince him he didn't need to hide without any success.  He had managed to get Blaine to start taking care of his appearance again, however.  After he'd returned home Blaine had taken to wearing sweatpants and baggy t-shirts with shapeless hoodies, no socks, no shoes.  He'd stopped styling his hair and stopped shaving.  At first Kurt didn't say anything because with Blaine's injuries it made sense, but as his mobility improved and his dependence on crutches and then his walking stick diminished there was no real cause for it.  Kurt had tried to convince Blaine to dress up again by trying to take him out, but Blaine had refused to really leave the apartment aside from for his medical appointments.  The therapist had told Kurt early on that Blaine was depressed and that it was to be expected.  Kurt had spent his lunch breaks researching every one of Blaine's injuries – physical and psychological.  He was getting better at predicting Blaine's moods based on where Blaine was and what he was doing when he came home.  He was getting better at reading Blaine - something he had never really been able to do before.

Blaine hadn't been kidding when he said he had plenty of friends who would have run him to his appointments – more cards, flowers, and gifts had come than Kurt knew what to do with.  Blaine had turned almost every visitor away.

Blaine was aware of what his erratic behaviour was doing to Kurt but he didn't know how else to act.  He didn't want to plan anything because he wasn't sure whether he'd be ‘there' so to speak.  He'd started wearing a semblance of his pre-attack look in an attempt to make Kurt feel better.  He'd always had a talent for it, but over time he'd become eerily good at reading people – especially Kurt.  He'd know what Kurt wanted before he vocalised it and when he could he'd fulfil that desire whether it was for food or drink or a massage or to be kissed in a certain way.  When Kurt was home things were easier.  He had a distraction – someone to focus on.  When Kurt was out or at work Blaine busied himself with his vocal and physical exercises and playing his instruments so he didn't have to think. 

He heard Kurt's footfall and had put the kettle on before Kurt had even opened the door.  Kurt looked tired and held up a hand in greeting to Blaine when he spotted him.  Blaine frowned.  At the start Kurt had overcompensated for Blaine's mutism by talking more, however, as the days and weeks dragged on and as Blaine flat out refused to use his voice around Kurt, Kurt had started talking to him less.  Blaine missed the sound of Kurt's voice.  He realised Kurt must miss his too, but his didn't exist anymore.  He pushed the thought aside and cleared his throat carefully.

            ‘Huh…H…Hi, Kurt.  How was your d…day?'   He cringed at the impure, rough, stuttering sound but it was worth it for the sudden smile that appeared on Kurt's face.  Kurt cautiously tried (and failed spectacularly) to mask his delight and crossed over to where Blaine was now making coffee for Kurt.  He approached him as you would a frightened animal – slowly and gingerly so as not to spook him.  Blaine smiled at the thought.

            ‘Good, thank you.  My feature was reviewed today…'  Blaine knew Kurt was holding back from giving him all the information in an attempt to get Blaine to keep talking.  He steeled himself – Kurt needed him to do this.

            ‘H...how did it go?'  Kurt's excitement was radiating from him in almost visible waves.  Blaine smiled softly at the thought then turned to hand Kurt the mug.

            ‘It was terrifying.  Thank you,' Kurt took the mug from Blaine and planted a kiss on Blaine's cheek before taking his hand and leading him to sit by him on the sofa.  ‘Some of the bigwigs were there and they are known for being really super harsh.  I think I actually melted a little I was sweating so hard.  They loved it though.'  Blaine grinned.

            ‘Told you they'd love it.'

            ‘But that's not even vaguely as important as this.  You're talking to me!'  Kurt kissed him deeply.  ‘What changed?'  Blaine frowned. 

            ‘I wasn't not talking to you.'

            ‘You know what I mean.'  Blaine broke eye contact and stared at his hands.  Kurt gently lifted his chin so he was looking at Kurt again.  ‘I love you.'

            ‘I love you too.'  Kurt smiled.

            ‘So…Is this going to be a regular thing now?  Because I've missed this.  Your voice does something to me…'  Kurt lent in to kiss Blaine again, his arousal and excitement mingling and sending little sparks through his nervous system.  Blaine pulled away.  Kurt realised too late that he'd said the wrong thing when Blaine untangled himself from Kurt and left the room.  Kurt groaned in frustration.  He heard the start of a piece of classical music – Saint Saens' ‘Danse Macabre' played expertly on the violin.  Kurt was torn between giving Blaine some space and trying to fix this.  Blaine had started talking to him – Blaine's initiating a spoken conversation was so new he couldn't afford to let it go back to silence - to dancing around each other again.  Restarting their relationship had not been a conscious decision – it had been utterly natural for Kurt, but he'd be lying if he said the last couple of weeks had been easy.  In some ways they had – there had been a couple of moments where things just clicked when neither was thinking too hard or tiptoeing around the taboo trigger subjects.  Kurt ached for those times – glimpses of how good they were together.  How special what they had really was.  He couldn't let this slip backwards, couldn't give up the progress.  He stood and strode over to the closed door not bothering to knock as he usually would – it wasn't like Blaine would have replied anyway.

            ‘Blaine.  You are the single most frustrating and wonderful person I know.  You are so brave and compassionate and insanely talented and I love you so much but you're also so stupid and insecure.  You're hung-up on something you have no control over.  Yes it sucks.  But you're making so much progress; you - open up - and then you close down and it all goes away and you go backwards and I lose you all over again.  You're minimising your achievements and it is killing me.  You are so much more than your voice, which by the way, sounds like some sort of dreamy perfection and that roughness you hate really does go straight to my crotch and you're not even done healing so I have every confidence that you'll get it back and you'll be singing with me again, but even if you can't, Blaine, it doesn't matter.  You are not your voice.  You are so much more than that.' 

Blaine had stopped playing when Kurt entered the room and something about Blaine standing silhouetted by the last of evening sunlight in front of the window holding his violin loosely like some strange incarnation of Sherlock Holmes did something to Kurt.  He'd just snapped.  He felt out of breath when his tirade ended.  The following silence hung in the air thickly and he couldn't make out Blaine's features to try to see what effect he'd had on him.  Blaine hadn't moved. 

‘Blaine, say something.' 

The silence was deafening, smothering them, punctuated by their shaky breathing and the roar of traffic outside and the dripping of the tap in the bathroom. 

‘Please, Blaine.'  A whispered plea.  Kurt needed to see Blaine's expression, he needed to know what was going on in his head but he didn't dare move.  Blaine wasn't moving.  ‘I can't do this, I'm sorry.'  Kurt spun on his heel and left.  He got as far as the front door and his hand froze before he could open it.  He had done it again.  He was about to storm out in the same way he'd done before - that last time he'd left, forcing Blaine to follow, forcing him to defend him, forcing him to fight.  He dropped his head against the door letting his anger and frustration and pain bubble up and overflow in tear form.  He was shaking and sobbing uncontrollably.  He let his hand drop from the door handle to his side limply.  He didn't expect to feel Blaine's arms slide firmly with no hesitation around Kurt's waist.  Didn't expect to feel Blaine's warmth press against him, his untamed curls to tickle his neck, his mouth to gently kiss the exposed part of his shoulder where his lose shirt had slid off one shoulder, his stubble prickling him.  Didn't expect Blaine to gently and softly hum to him against his skin like he used to to calm Kurt down years ago when they were both inexperienced teenagers playing at love, playing at a relationship.  Kurt couldn't stop the smile that erupted over his features no more than he could change the past or predict the future, and he felt Blaine smile against his shoulder in response.

            ‘You are so b…beautiful, Kurt.  I'm so sorry.'   

Kurt turned in Blaine's arms to face him slipping his own arms through Blaine's and around his neck.  Blaine kissed away his tears and just held him humming softly.  Kurt leant his head against Blaine's.

            After the ‘big explosion' as Kurt referred to it, things got a little better.  Blaine consciously tried to open up to Kurt more and Kurt actively made an effort to encourage Blaine to talk to him. 

Kurt gingerly opened the door one afternoon to hear something he would never have believed he'd hear again – Blaine was singing.  Quietly and softly, but he was singing.  Kurt recognised it as a typically acoustic and typically Blaine version of ‘For the First Time' by The Script.  He held his breath and couldn't bring himself to close the door behind him he was so terrified Blaine would hear him and stop.  His voice was different to before – the purity was gone, and it was a little deeper than Kurt recalled it being, but he'd never sounded more perfect to Kurt.  Kurt must have made a noise when he had remembered that it was necessary to breathe because Blaine stopped suddenly and then his head popped around the frame of the door. 

            ‘Hey, Kurt.  I wasn't expecting you home yet.'  Blaine's smile was contagious and Kurt's face hurt from smiling so hard back at him.

            ‘So… How long have you been hiding the fact that you're singing again from me?  Or are we pretending I didn't hear that?'

Blaine laughed and ignored Kurt's question as he walked over to the oven to finish making their dinner.  Kurt hadn't even noticed that Blaine had been cooking. 

            ‘You may want to close the door, Kurt.  Unless we're expecting someone because I know you weren't b…born in a barn.'  The lightness in Blaine's voice as he joked was magical to Kurt.  He closed the door and dropped his bag in front of it as he walked towards Blaine.

            ‘Come on.  Out with it.'  Kurt ignored Blaine's attempt to distract him with humour and spun Blaine around to face him.  ‘Come on, Mr.'

            ‘You weren't supposed to hear that.'

            ‘I realised.  You sound…'

            ‘Please, Kurt.  Not now, OK?'  Blaine interrupted him, his smile fading.

            ‘You sound really great.'  Kurt ignored Blaine.  ‘Really, really great actually.  Different – but it suits you.  It's really sexy – the gravelly-ness…' 

            ‘That's not a word, Kurt.  Basically you're saying I sound rough.'

‘No!  Most guys have to smoke to get that, you know.  It's really hot.'  Blaine rolled his eyes.  ‘Sing me something.' 

‘No, Kurt.  I need to finish making dinner.'

‘Come on, please?'  Kurt gave Blaine what he knew were his puppy-dog eyes – the ones he knew Blaine couldn't refuse so he didn't use them against him too often.  Blaine groaned. 

‘That's not fair – you're playing dirty, Mr. Hummel.'  Kurt made his eyes bigger and emphasised the look.  Blaine laughed.  ‘Compromise…'

‘No compromises.'

‘Hear me out.  I play and you sing.'

‘No deal.'

‘I play and we duet?'

‘Nope.'

‘Come on, Kurt.  Be fair.'  Blaine pouted and it took all of Kurt's resolve not to laugh.  ‘OK.  I'll sing.  But you choose the song.'

‘Not how this works, Blaine.'

‘I really hate you right now.'

‘No you don't.  You're smiling.  Your poker face needs work.'  Blaine stuck his tongue out at Kurt.  ‘Come on.'  Kurt walked towards their music / dressing room and Blaine followed with the slightest hesitation.

‘If dinner burns it is your fault.'

‘Accepted.  Now sit.'  Kurt pushed Blaine lightly down onto the piano stool.  The piano had been an unexpected present from Cooper – he'd explained in his accompanying letter that his parents hadn't wanted to ship Blaine's grand piano for fear of damaging it so this was a replacement – also it wouldn't take up quite so much room.  The piano was white and Kurt had promptly redecorated the room to compliment the piano turning it into a feature.  Blaine had simply rolled his eyes and told Kurt to do whatever made him happy because that would make Blaine happy.  Kurt smiled a little at the memory.

Blaine casually ran his fingers over the keys casually playing the start of Chopin's ‘Scherzo No. 2 Op. 31' without any sheet music.  A couple of months ago Kurt would have been shell shocked.  He held his resolve. 

‘That's not what we agreed, Blaine.'

He laughed wickedly and switched into Rachmaninoff's ‘Prelude in G Minor Op. 23'.  He segued into Liszt's ‘La Campanella' when Kurt growled.

            ‘Blaine.'  Kurt's voice was threatening.  Blaine signed and stopped playing.

            ‘Fine.'  He muttered.  He was rewarded by Kurt's smile and a kiss on the cheek.

            ‘You do know that you shouldn't have hid your talents at McKinley, right?'  Blaine rolled his eyes.  ‘No, really.  You could have played and sung solo and knocked everyone out of the water.' 

            ‘Everyone in Glee knew I play piano, Kurt.  I sang and played Phil Collins' ‘Against All Odds' in front of everyone...'

            ‘What about everything else you play?  The guitar?  The drums?  The violin?  Stop trying to get me to argue with you.  You're not getting out of this.'  Blaine smiled softly and turned back to face the piano with a sigh.

            ‘Fine.  But I sound awful so please don't laugh, Kurt.'  Kurt didn't say anything in response so Blaine started to play the opening to Rufus Wainwright's ‘Cigarettes and Chocolate Milk (Reprise)'.  He took a breath and started to sing, softly and uncertainly at first then he let himself get lost in the music and started to loosen up.  He closed his eyes and let go.  When he finished the last bar he felt his shoulders tense as he waited. Kurt, true to his word had said nothing.  He'd almost forgotten Kurt was in the room while he'd been playing.  Now he was painfully aware – waiting to hear Kurt's opinion.  When nothing came he slowly spun around on the stool to face Kurt.  Blaine's heart was hammering painfully in his chest.  It took everything he had – every ounce of courage – to lift his eyes to meet Kurt's.  He steeled himself and waited.  The ball was in Kurt's court.  He'd done what Kurt had asked.  He waited.  Kurt had his hands covering his mouth like he was in shock or about to laugh.  Blaine waited.  Kurt blinked and brought his hands down slowly. 

            ‘Oh, Blaine.'  He murmured.  Was Kurt crying?  ‘Oh, honey.  You really can't hear yourself can you?'  Kurt was suddenly on his knees between Blaine's legs, his hands holding Blaine's.  It was then that the fire alarm went off.  Blaine swore under his breath then stumbled when his weaker leg gave slightly from the awkward way he'd tried to stand without bowling Kurt over.  He put a hand out to stop himself falling and caught his balance using the wall then rushed out to the kitchen.  Kurt was right behind him grabbing a tea towel to fan the alarm's sensor while Blaine investigated the damage to their dinner.  Once the alarm finally switched off they looked at each other and burst out laughing.

            The lights were blinding and the noise level hammered into his mind unbidden.  Blaine was on a stage.  He felt dizzy.  Confused.  He turned slowly and saw the familiar faces of Paul, Mark and Ken all sweating and obviously buzzed.  How did he get from the kitchen to here?  How much time had passed?  His mind went into a now familiar overdrive as he tried to piece together what he'd missed.  He didn't have too much time because the guys had started playing.  He recognised the song as Darren Criss' ‘Stutter'.  He had a split second to decide - he could bolt or go with it.  He wouldn't be on stage if he wasn't OK to sing and if he was no good.  Right?  He started to sing.  The girls in the crowd went wild.  He frowned slightly.  His voice was not as smooth as he'd like but the depth to it did sound good.  It was strong too.  Possibly stronger than his voice was before.  It was probably due to the exercises.  He let himself go with it and enjoy the feeling of performing again – something he thought he'd never have.  The song ended to a huge cheer and he grinned.  ‘Thank you.'  He noticed the guys stand to take their half-time (?) bow and head towards the bar.  Paul gave him a high five, and Ken winked as they passed him.

            ‘You are seriously awesome tonight, bro!  You're not gonna forget us as you shoot to fame, eh?  Don't envy you the fan-girls tonight mind.'  Paul clapped him on the shoulder as he followed the others making the ‘loco' hand gesture when he mentioned the screaming horde who awaited them at the foot of the stage.  Blaine followed a little hesitantly still trying to get his mental balance.  He was suddenly surrounded and he couldn't breathe as boiling, sweating, writhing bodies pressed against him.

            ‘Oh my god.  You're amazing!'

            ‘Blink!'

            ‘Can I get you a drink?'

            ‘You are the sexiest man on the planet!'

            ‘Will you sign my shirt?'

            ‘Blink, Blink!  Oh my god, I can't believe I'm actually talking to you!'

            ‘Blink!'

He tried to take it in.  Something had changed while he'd been away.  He didn't understand.  He'd played countless gigs before and had never experienced this kind of fan girling.  One of them tried to grope him.  He tried not to freak out as he made his way towards the back room and a little solitude mumbling ‘thank you's and ‘you're so sweet's.  He'd never been so relieved to feel a familiar warmth wrap around his shoulders and Kurt's sweet voice.

            ‘Sorry ladies.  I'm going to have to steal this one away from you.'

If he'd been in a better place mentally he'd have laughed at the series of moans that followed Kurt's declaration.  Instead he pressed close and let Kurt steer him through to the back room.  Once they were alone he realised he was shaking.

            ‘It happened again, didn't it?'  Kurt said softly.

Blaine nodded.  He didn't trust himself to talk right now.  He was still reeling from the idea that he was performing again.

            ‘What's the last thing you remember?'

            ‘Um… Uh…  We burnt dinner?  You…you made me sing, and we burnt the dinner and the fire alarm went off and it was the funniest thing.'  He groaned and pressed his palms to his temples.

            ‘Oh, wow.  OK.  Um… a lot has happened since then.'

            ‘I noticed.'

            ‘Um…  Where to start?  Well…You tried out with the band again – I may have pushed you a little.'

Blaine made a face.

            ‘OK.  A lot.  But it was worth it.  Um…  Blaine.  I don't quite know how to tell you this.'

            ‘What is it, Kurt?'

Kurt fumbled in his pocket and pulled out his phone.  Blaine raised an eyebrow.

            ‘Um… Kurt?  What'cha doing?  I'm falling to pieces over here.'

            ‘Sorry… just let me… Here.'  He handed the phone to Blaine.  It was a YouTube search.  Blaine's heart jumped a beat or maybe four.  The search was for his name and the results included interviews and numerous live videos of him performing.  He shakily clicked on one and scrolled to the comments.  He almost dropped the phone. 

            ‘That's…That is not me.'

            ‘It is.  Things have been a bit crazy recently.'

            ‘Understatement of the year there, Kurt.'  He hit back and scrolled through the results.  He froze when he saw one – ‘I was on ‘Ellen'!?'  The still showed him mid-laugh, guy-liner and rock god-ed up with Ellen on his lap, her arms around his neck.

            ‘That interview was the first one you did.  It was received really well…'  Kurt filled him in looking over his shoulder. 

The video below the ‘Ellen' one appeared to be of an interview he seemed to have done for ‘Kathy' - another chat show.  Again, the still showed him and the hostess, Kathy – this time however, the hostess appeared to be licking him and he was making a face and laughing.

            ‘Yeah, um.  Your press guys hadn't told her you were gay and she was kind of all over you.  You handled it so well though.  Your charming debonair side came out and you just shined.  They still haven't decided how to…or whether to…'out' you to the world yet.'

This was so surreal.  Blaine felt sick.  The world?!  Something in Blaine's facial expression or his posture gave his inner freak-out away to Kurt.  He touched him gently on the shoulder a look of real concern on his face.

            ‘Um... yeah.  You don't remember at all do you?' 

            ‘This…this isn't happening...'

            ‘Hey, hey, shhhh.'  Kurt reached for him and he let Kurt hold him while he struggled to process the idea.  Blaine's pretty sure he heard Kurt mention ‘press guys'…  When did he need, let alone get, someone to handle the press and why did he have more than one?  This wasn't a minor time skip.  This couldn't be.  There was no way…

There was a knock on the door and an immaculate red-haired lady with stylish glasses and a clipboard poked her head around the door interrupting his rapidly derailing train of thought.  She reminded Blaine of Bette Midler.

            ‘Ready to go back on?'

            ‘Um… Judi.  Blaine's not feeling too well.  I think it is dehydration.  Do you think you could…?'

            ‘Oh, sure, no problem, Kurt.  I'll go explain.  He's only performing tonight as a favour to Patty for letting him out of that contract - I'm sure she'll understand.  They can go into karaoke mode and let the punters on.'  She smiled and gave Blaine a concerned look.  ‘Get him better for tomorrow morning though, yeah?  The studio will need him at his best.'

Kurt smiled and nodded.  Judi left and Kurt turned back to face Blaine. 

            ‘I'm taking you to the doctors, now.  Come on.  This has been going on for too long.'

Blaine didn't even try to protest.