Here comes another fall from grace – I'm always falling on my face.  Come on lay with me ‘cause I'm on fire.  For what it's worth I'd tear the sun in three to light up your eyes

For What It's Worth – Placebo

                His head is pounding, his vision blurred, and his mouth tastes like stale alcohol, cigarettes and vomit.  He rolls over and reaches out for Kurt.  His hand clasps at cold empty sheets.  He remembers a club, drinking, dancing, he remembers arguing.  Arguing with Kurt.  Shit.  His heart races, his stomach knotting uncomfortably.  He reaches for his phone and stumbles out of bed and into the kitchen though he knows Kurt won't be there.  He flicks through his messages – none from Kurt.  He dials his number.

The phone rings.  No answer.  Redial.

No answer.  Redial.

No answer.  Redial.

                ‘He doesn't want to talk to you.'

                ‘Rachel, put him on the phone, please.'

                ‘Leave him alone, Blaine.  You should never have come to New York.'

Dial tone.

‘Fuck!'  Blaine throws his phone across the room.

He balls his hands into fists and presses them to his eyes.  Well at least he knows where Kurt is.  That he's safe and with friends.  Blaine paces while he thinks.  How did it get from the best weeks of his life to this?  They'd been happy – it had been perfect living with Kurt.  They'd been perfect.  Why had he agreed to go out with Kurt's Vogue.com friends?  Why had he agreed to drink?  Every time he drank bad things happened.  He groaned.  Had he really sang Maroon 5's ‘Payphone' to Kurt after their argument?

His ringtone startled him and he made a dash for the phone thankful that it didn't seem to be damaged.

                ‘What do you want, Blaine?'

                ‘Kurt, I'm so sorry.  Can we talk?  Please?  I was drunk and I shouldn't have….  Please, Kurt.'

                '10 minutes.'

                ‘Thank you.'

                ‘You're buying the coffee.'

                ‘Deal.'  Blaine smiled slightly.  He could hear Rachel badmouthing him in the background.  ‘I love you, Kurt.'

                ‘If I didn't love you I wouldn't be doing this.'

                ‘I know.'

Kurt rang off and Blaine hurriedly showered noticing his right foot was covered in blood only as the water turned red.  He flinched and examined the injury – he must have stepped on some glass or something.  He'd live. 

With fresh clothes and fresher breath he practically ran from the apartment to the coffee shop, his sunglasses shielding his oversensitive eyes from the glare of the day, hair curling wildly as it dried.  Part of him almost bought Kurt flowers but he forced himself not to.  This wasn't a flowers kind of apology.

Kurt wasn't there when he arrived so he ordered the coffees – an espresso for himself immediately, to be followed by a medium drip and a non-fat mocha when a tall chestnut haired, blue eyed man joined him.  He took a seat with a good view of the window and the door and downed the espresso in an attempt to appease his throbbing head.  He massaged his temples closing his eyes for a moment as he waited.

                ‘You look like crap.'

Blaine opened his eyes and smiled.

                ‘Thanks.'

Kurt smiled slightly and took the seat opposite Blaine, thanking the waitress as she set their coffees down.

They sat in silence for a moment.

                ‘Kurt, I…'

                ‘Be quiet a moment.'  Blaine closed his mouth and waited, fingers idly fiddling with the sugar packets in front of him.  ‘I just had a 20 minute lecture from Rachel about how I should just get over you and end this for once and for all and move on.'

                ‘I'm sorry, Ku…'

                ‘Shhhhh.'  Kurt took a breath and then looked into Blaine's eyes.  ‘Do you really trust me that little?'

Blaine bit his lip and rolled his head back slightly before looking at Kurt again. 

                ‘It was not about you.'

                ‘What was it about then?  Help me understand here, Blaine, because that - last night - that wasn't you.  If it was I wouldn't be here right now having a coffee with you because I'd be gone.'

                ‘I just…'  He took a breath and reached for Kurt's hand.  Kurt didn't pull away.  ‘I love you so much, Kurt.  And I just got you back.  I'm scared.  I've been scared since the day I fell in love with you.  I'm scared you will find someone better.  I'm scared because you deserve someone better.'  Kurt rolled his eyes.  ‘I've always known that, Kurt.  And…  Last night, I'd been drinking, and I let that fear get the better of me.'

                ‘It was just dancing, Blaine.'

                ‘I know.'

                ‘Dancing with friends.  Innocent dancing.  Not even PG-13.'

                ‘I know.'

                ‘You listen to me now.  There is only one guy for me, and he's sitting right opposite me.  The other guys in my life – they're just friends.  The other men out there in clubs and at work and on the street mean nothing to me.  They're not you.'

                ‘I'm so sorry.  I keep screwing everything up.'

                ‘You can't let insecurities build up like that again.  You have to talk to me before it gets bad.  Understand me?'  Blaine nodded.  Kurt squeezed his hand lightly and smiled. 

                ‘God, your friends must think I'm a complete jerk.'  Blaine groaned.

                ‘They could see you'd had too much.  I'll talk to them.'  Kurt took a sip of his coffee then looked thoughtfully at Blaine.  ‘Can I ask you something?'

                ‘Anything.  You know that.'

                ‘I've been doing some thinking and some research…'  Blaine's eyebrows furrowed and Kurt gently rubbed circles onto the skin on the back of Blaine's hand in a soothing manner.  ‘I'd like to try something.  I think it might help you.'

                ‘When?'  Blaine bit his lip.

                ‘Maybe tonight?'

                ‘You're coming home?'

                ‘Yes.'

Blaine felt like he could breathe again.   Kurt smiled and he returned it.

                Blaine was kneeling on the floor, his head resting against Kurt's thigh as he sat on the dining chair he used at his dressing table.  Blaine was blissed out - he had nothing to focus on but simply being.  Kurt had asked him to kneel by his side.  Blaine had complied without a thought – his mind freed by the request.  The buzzing in his brain had stopped, he had nothing to think about; it was freeing.  He felt as though he was floating.

                As the weeks passed things got easier between them again.  They'd talked about how Blaine had felt to see Kurt with a group of friends none of whom he had known, especially when one had been flirting heavily with him.  Kurt made time to fill Blaine in on his day when he got home from work.  Blaine reciprocated.  Kurt made Blaine talk to him about his fears and his dreams.  Kurt reciprocated.  They ended most days curled together on the sofa watching trash telly.  On days when Blaine seemed stressed or withdrawn Kurt would ask him to kneel beside him as he worked.  Blaine always relaxed immediately into his leg as he sank to his knees without complaint.

It had started small – whenever Kurt asked Blaine to make a trivial decision (which film to watch, what to eat that night, etc.) Kurt had noticed that he couldn't.  Important decisions were no problem, but the simple stuff that didn't matter would stress him.  The first time Kurt had told Blaine what to do he had been nervous but Blaine had not seemed to notice – in fact he had just done what Kurt had effectively commanded, happier for having the pressure removed.  Kurt enjoyed seeing Blaine happy – he enjoyed knowing how to alleviate the stress as it began rather than letting it build.  His reward was a very chilled out happy Blaine who was passionate and fun to be around. 

They had not spoken about it specifically – not wanting to label – but Kurt knew Blaine had noticed. 

The first time Kurt had ordered for Blaine at a restaurant in front of Rachel and Santana had resulted in Kurt having to tell Rachel to keep her nose out.  Santana had simply raised an eyebrow.  Blaine had chosen to pretend to ignore the exchange.

It started when Blaine's morning had gone from bad when he had dropped the box of cereal and it had exploded over the kitchen floor, to worse when Blaine had forgotten his wallet and had had to return to the apartment to fetch it after getting more than half way to class.  It had escalated when Blaine came home after a day where one of the bitchier girls in Blaine's improvisation class had seemingly made it her mission to dismiss every idea Blaine had had for their group project.  Kurt should have known that something was wrong because Blaine had gone straight to their room without saying a word.  But he didn't notice because he had had a great day and was about to have a great evening having dinner with friends from work.  He'd popped his head around the door when Blaine didn't reappear dressed for dinner to find Blaine lay face down on the bed still in his street clothes.  The following argument was messy and had ended with Blaine being unable to breathe and Kurt leaving to go to dinner without him, fuming.  As the cold winter wind hit him Kurt realised what had happened and spent the evening distanced and thinking.

The result was a brown leather cuff.  As soon as Kurt had seen it he had known it was perfect.  The cuff was simple in design from a distance but the inside was lined with a stunning teal.  Kurt had given Blaine the cuff one evening with a simple instruction – if you feel overwhelmed, or down, or unable to cope for any reason wear this and I'll look after you.  The implication left hanging in the air.  Unspoken.