Time to think about you and me whatever that was all about.  I got nothing to prove.  I got nothing to say.  No, I guess I never thought you were good for me anyway.  I got nothing to lose... Nothing but you

Nothing But You – Kim Ferron

He's in the changing rooms at McKinley and the air is thick with sweat, musk and chlorine.  It is familiar and comforting.  He is in his Cheerios uniform but it sticks to him uncomfortably with the heat.  It is hard to breathe in here.  He knows the air will be clearer towards the top of the room.  He jumps.  Breaststroke arms.  A kick.  It is like swimming down towards the bottom of a swimming pool in reverse.  He reaches the ceiling, but there is no air.  He cannot breathe.  He must get back down to the bottom.  He tries to keep the growing panic at bay, using the ceiling to kick back down towards the floor.  He is almost there.  His lungs are burning – his cells are screaming for oxygen.  He pulls through the air with his arms, but the floor seems so far away.  He knows he is not going to make it.  His blood is rushing in his ears, his lungs are on fire, his eyes stinging…

He wakes up with a start.  His heart is hammering in his chest, his pulse racing.  He gulps down air.  It was a nightmare.  It was not real.  Gradually his breathing calms and his heart rate begins to return to normal.  He comes to a dim realisation that he is in his room in Edinburgh.  He throws off his bed sheets and is disgusted by how sticky with sweat he feels.  He peels off his tank top and shakily makes his way to the bathroom.  He looks up and jumps out of his skin when warm hands touch his bare skin. 

                ‘Jesus!  Thom - you scared me!'

                ‘Sorry, baby.  You worried me.  I rolled over and you weren't in bed.  You OK?  Bad dream again?'  Thom steps closer to him and gently runs his hands from his shoulders to the small of his back, pulling them together.

Blaine stumbles backwards away from Thom.  His heart is once again racing, adrenaline surging through his blood.  Thom's behaviour makes no sense.  The last he remembers he was drinking.  He'd heard that Kurt had hooked up with another man whilst at the London Fashion Week blow out party.  He had been trying to drown his sorrows.  Thom had tried to talk sense into him…  Blaine's breath hitches.

                No, even that drunk I wouldn't…  Thom wouldn't take advantage like that.  It was a slip of the tongue.  He didn't mean to call me ‘baby' and he meant he was on the sofa not in bed with me…He's just tired and I woke him and he's confused…

                ‘Baby, what's wrong?  Are you OK?'  Thom took a tentative step towards Blaine.

                ‘Don't call me that!'  Blaine pushes past Thom and out into the room.  He forces the window open and takes three deep breaths – sucking in the cool night air.

                ‘Blaine, you're scaring me.'  His voice is so quiet Blaine is not sure at first that Thom has actually spoken. 

He focuses instead on the cool air infiltrating the room from the outside.  Outside which is blanketed with snow.  Snow in September?  He turns back to look again at the room.  There are boxes and if he's packing that means…

                ‘What month is this?'

                ‘January, honey.  What's going on?'

Blaine suddenly felt cold, numb.  He was shaking.  Thom must have noticed because suddenly he was taking charge.  Strong arms were guiding him back to bed.

                ‘You'll catch cold and they'll never forgive me.'

                ‘Who's they?'

                ‘The production crew…'

                ‘Oh.'

Thom closes the window and returns to the bed making the scoot over gesture.  Blaine complies before he is aware of what he is doing and Thom settles next to him on the bed effectively pinning Blaine between the wall and his body.

‘Blaine?'

‘Hm?'

‘Are you OK?'

‘No.'

‘What is it?'

‘Where's Kurt?'

Blaine does not miss the hurt look flicker across Thom's features before they are once again masked by concern.  Thom takes a breath and finds Blaine's hand beneath the blanket.  Gentle fingers stroke Blaine's hand and it takes everything Blaine has to not flinch, to not pull his hand back.  He needs answers and Thom is his only hope at finding out what is going on.

‘In New York I suppose, maybe Paris.'

The response is not what Blaine was expecting. 

‘You know that is not what I was asking, Thom.'

Thom frowns.

                ‘What is wrong with you?  Was it the nightmare?'

                ‘I don't know what you are on about.'

                ‘One minute we are fine – we had the most romantic New Years' date and I thought things were finally settling down and then…  You wake up screaming and now you're acting all distant again and asking about Kurt.  I mean…what am I supposed to think here?'

                ‘I don't understand….'

                ‘You don't understand?!  I don't understand.  I thought you didn't want to talk about the whole Kurt thing?'

                ‘Maybe we should?'

Blaine's response was obviously not the right one as Thom's frown deepened. 

                ‘You want to talk about it?  Fine.  We'll talk about it.'  Thom's voice is tight with emotion and something inside Blaine aches that he is the cause of that pain.  He waits for Thom to continue but Thom seems to be waiting for him.  They sit in silence – it vibrates around them then snaps.  ‘Well?  You wanted to talk – talk!'

                ‘What happened?'  Blaine tries weakly.  He is rewarded by a huff from Thom.

                ‘What happened?  Really?'  Thom rolls from the bed, stalks over to the sink and fills the kettle.  Blaine takes the opportunity to reclaim his bed and attempts to fill in the gaps.  Somehow he went from being in a relationship with Kurt (who may or may not have cheated on him) in late September to being in what seems like a relationship with Thom in early(?) January. 

Maybe this is a dream inside a dream and I only dreamt that I woke up from the nightmare?

You really believe that?

No.

Blaine sighs and turns his attention back to Thom as the scent of fresh coffee hits him.  Thom looks tired. 

                ‘I'm sorry, Thom.'  Thom looks up at Blaine and hands him a mug.  ‘Thank you.'  Blaine inhales the bitter, rich aroma and feels the last of the nightmare fog clear his mind.  ‘I guess that nightmare freaked me out more than I thought.  I was really disoriented.'

                ‘What do you mean?'  Thom sits on the opposite end of the bed and eyes Blaine warily.

                ‘I thought it was still that night in September – the one where I thought Kurt had cheated on me and I drank way too much…'  Blaine knows he is pushing now, but he needs to know and this tactic may work.  He waits but Thom makes no sign of speaking or moving.  ‘Everything is still fuzzy.  It's like I can't make out what is real and what isn't…'

                ‘What can I do to help?  What is muddled?  Tell me what you think happened between now and then and I'll tell you whether you dreamt it or it was real?'

                ‘OK.  Um…'  He knows he has to play this carefully – probably best not to go in all guns blazing.  Something simple first.  ‘It's January and that means a couple of weeks break then Plymouth soon?'

                ‘Reality.'

                ‘I can fly by swimming breaststroke through the air.'

                ‘Dream.  100% dream.'  Thom laughs, relaxing slightly and Blaine smiles.

                ‘Uh… I play Fiyero in Wicked.'

                ‘Reality.' 

                ‘You and I…'

                ‘Yes?'  Thom is flirting with him Blaine realises.

                ‘You and I are together?'

                ‘Reality.'  Thom shifts closer to Blaine.

                One big question answered…

                ‘And we spent Christmas together?'

                ‘Reality.'  Closer again.

‘And New Years?'

‘Reality.'  Closer again.

                ‘And we live together.'

                ‘Reality.'  Thom's lips are inches from his now.

                ‘Kurt cheated on me in September.'

                ‘Blaine…'  Thom withdraws.

                Damn.  Too far.

                ‘What?'

                ‘You know it is more complicated than that.'

                ‘I really don't!'  Blaine drops his head backwards against the wall and closes his eyes in frustration.

                ‘You thought he cheated.  Someone told you he cheated so you got hammered.  You drank everything in the flat and broke your phone then when I tried to talk sense to you you collapsed.  Remember that?'

                ‘Not the collapsing bit…'

                ‘You scared me so badly – I thought…  Anyway, turns out you'd given yourself alcohol poisoning so they had to pump your stomach.'

                ‘Crap.  The show?'  He said jerking up straight.

                ‘The show was fine.  Your understudy took over for a couple of days…until you forced me to let you back on stage, even though you weren't 100% recovered.  We kept it out of the papers – said you had flu.  Blaine, baby, you're really worrying me.  You really don't remember do you?'

Blaine rolled his head back against the wall and shook it slightly.

                ‘OK.  Um… I called Kurt and he freaked out.  He came straight up to see you in the hospital and I don't know what you guys talked about but I know Kurt was mad at you.  He hadn't cheated on you, at least not then, and I don't think he took too kindly to being told why you went all self-destruct.'

                ‘You told him.'

                ‘Blaine, we've been through this.'

                ‘But we haven't because I don't remember so forgive me if this is all repeats for you but for me I'm just learning how I lost Kurt again!'

                ‘Don't you dare take this out on me!'

                ‘Thom, I'm not.  I'm just confused.'  He closed his eyes and took a calming breath.  ‘Please continue, Thom.'

                ‘He had to go back to London.  You felt awful for ever thinking he could cheat on you and for getting alcohol poisoning and scaring everyone and for letting your personal life affect the show, so you bottled everything up and pretended everything was OK.  But it wasn't.  And every time you spoke to Kurt on the phone you'd argue – he accused you of transferring your guilt over cheating on him onto him, you told him about how you felt watching him dance with Michael - it was a destructive cycle.  You weren't sleeping and I didn't know what to do.'  Thom took a deep breath and looked at Blaine before continuing.  ‘He came up here in late October with a huge bunch of roses and I went out to give you guys some privacy.  I stayed with Rich and Liam…'  Blaine gave Thom a blank look.  ‘…you know, from choir.'  Thom took Blaine's hand.  ‘You showed up on the doorstep drenched and shaking.  You said he'd told you he couldn't keep fighting with you.  He couldn't hold your relationship together against your insecurities any more….'

October

                The rain is hammering on the fogged windows.  The room is boiling – residual heat from the unseasonal weather they had been having so late in the year.  The roses are beautiful and have filled the sink but their perfume is heady and every breath is cloyingly floral.  His skin feels too tight as he watches Kurt pace.  There's a lump in his throat that he hasn't been able to dislodge since Kurt showed up two hours ago to surprise him with roses.  He has no idea how it broke down so quickly again.  Has no idea how to stop it.  Kurt spins to face him tears spilling down his glowing cheeks.

                ‘I can't do it any more, Blaine.  Every time we talk we end up arguing.  I dread calling you, you know that?  I hate arguing with you.'

                ‘Then don't!'  Blaine knows he sounds desperate but he needs to stop this before it escalates further.  Before his life derails again.

                ‘I don't want to!  But every time we talk it comes back down to you not liking that we are living apart and neither of us is willing to give up our jobs, Blaine.  Neither of us should have to!  It's only a couple more months!'

                ‘It was supposed to be London Fashion Week.'  Blaine reaches out and pulls Kurt down to sit beside him.

                ‘I know, baby.  We talked about this!  You said a couple more weeks would be OK!'  Kurt reaches out and puts his hand on Blaine's shoulder.  Bile rises in Blaine's mouth and he feels the serpent he has been fighting rise up, uncoiling within him.

                ‘A couple of weeks, Kurt.  Not fucking months!'  Blaine shrugs Kurt off.

                ‘Don't swear, Blaine, it doesn't suit you.'

                ‘Don't fucking patronise me!  You always act like you're so much better than me – like you're fucking perfect.'  Blaine stands in frustration, his back to Kurt.

                ‘I don't think I'm better than you!'

                ‘Yes - yes you do!  Because you are.  Every time we argue it always boils back down to the fact that I fucked up when I was 17.  I ruined what we had and we'll never get that back.'      

                ‘Stop it, Blaine.  This has nothing to do with then – we're different people now…'

                ‘People don't change, Kurt…' 

                ‘…we've both grown up.  Yes, you messed up then but I messed up too.  I wasn't there for you then, or during your op and I should have been but I was so scared…and when Thom called and said you'd collapsed, God, Blaine – I thought you were going to die and I wasn't there, again!'

                ‘No, you weren't there.  You were with Michael in London.'

                ‘For the last time, Blaine, I didn't sleep with Michael!'  Kurt stands and walks over to Blaine.

                ‘I know.  You told me a hundred times already.'

                ‘You keep bringing it up!'  Kurt straightens up and something makes Blaine reciprocate so that Kurt cannot use their height difference against him.

                ‘What was I supposed to think when you were all over him the first time I met him?  You didn't even introduce us formally!  All you did the entire time I was with you in London was talk about him!  What was I supposed to think?'

                ‘I'm not going over this again, Blaine.'  Kurt turns and heads for the door.  Blaine panics – he needs Kurt to stay.

                ‘Stop saying my name like that!'

                ‘Like what?'  Kurt spins to face Blaine and part of Blaine is relieved – at least Kurt's not leaving.

                ‘Like I'm a child!'

                ‘You're acting like one!'

                ‘Get off your fucking horse, Kurt!'

Kurt slaps him, hard.  The sting in Blaine's cheek lingers as Kurt steps backwards in shock his hands clenched, knuckles white and pressed to the tight ‘o' of his mouth in shock.  Blaine's hands are balled into fists, it had taken every ounce of his self-control to not strike back. 

                ‘Blaine, I'm so sorry!'

                ‘It's OK.'

                ‘I'm so sorry!'

Blaine steps forwards and Kurt flinches.

                What did I do to make him so scared of me?

Blaine pulls Kurt into a hug and breathes him in.  Kurt is tense in his embrace and that hurts him more than the slap.

                ‘I'm so sorry, Kurt.  I just…I hate this.  I hate not being able to see you when we talk, or kiss you, or…'

He is silenced by Kurt's lips on his.  He kisses back trying to convey everything he feels for this wonderful man in his arms.  Trying to keep him there.

                It's not enough – it will never be enough.

                ‘Blaine?'

                ‘Hm?'

                ‘We're going to get through this aren't we?'

Blaine answers the only way he feels he is able to.  He kisses him again.  Kurt melts into him then stiffens again as if he's trying to stay in control.

                ‘Why do I feel like you're leaving me?'

Kurt pulls away but keeps hold of one of Blaine's hands.

                ‘I think we need a break.  A couple of weeks, until we can be together again.  Treat it like a holiday.'

                ‘A holiday, Kurt, really?'

                ‘I can't keep doing this, Blaine.  I can't keep holding us together while you torture yourself as soon as we are apart again.  I can't do it.  It kills me.  I love you so much.'

                ‘Then don't do this.'

                ‘I have to.  For me.'

                ‘Kurt…'

                ‘You don't know what it's like…'

An echo of another argument another lifetime ago -

                ‘You don't know what it's like to be your boyfriend!'

                ‘Kurt, please, don't.  It'll be better this time…'

                ‘Blaine, stop it.  You know it, I know it, it won't be better.  It'll be the same.  The same arguments, the same fights.  I can't…'

                ‘Kurt, don't do this, please.  I need you.'

                ‘I don't need this.'

                ‘Kurt, please…'  He's begging and he's crying.

                Pathetic.

                ‘Blaine, baby.  I love you – it's not forever…'

                ‘Then why?'

                ‘Because I can't…I can't watch you destroy yourself.  Every time, Blaine - every time you tear yourself down and it kills me.  You let your insecurities eat at you, baby.  I can't watch anymore.  What if next time you get an idea in your head that I've cheated or something and you actually kill yourself, Blaine?  How am I supposed to live with that?'

                ‘I wasn't trying to kill myself!'

                ‘No but you almost did.  You know that alcohol affects you badly.  You knew that!  I have never given you a reason to think I would cheat on you, Blaine.  I…'

                ‘Michael…'

                ‘Michael means nothing to me!  God, Blaine!  I'm not you, OK?!'

Blaine steps backwards – he feels as if he has been shot – he cannot breathe. 

                ‘That was low.'

                ‘Blaine…'

                ‘No, Kurt.  You're right.  You don't need this.  You don't need me and my insecurities.  You don't need me.'

                ‘Blaine, I didn't mean that!'

                ‘Yes you did, Kurt.  We've been tiptoeing around the edge of this conversation for weeks.  Come on, Kurt.  Out with it.  Out with how you really feel because you staying in London longer feels like you're avoiding me.  It doesn't feel very temporary - it feels kind of permanent.'  His voice is low and menacing. 

                ‘OK, Blaine.  You want to talk temporary – what's going on with you and Thom?  Why is he still living with you?  It's been weeks.'  Kurt's squared his shoulders again, he's wearing his bring it face and Blaine cringes inwardly – he never thought he'd be the one to bring that out in Kurt.  But he needs to do this.  He needs them both to stop treading so damn softly around each other.  Everything needs to be out on the table if either of them are going to walk away from this.

                ‘You said you were OK with Thom staying with me.'

                ‘For, like, a week!'

                ‘Fine, I'll kick him out.  What else?'

                ‘How did we get to this?'  Kurt deflates before him.  Blaine forces himself to stand tall, forces his feet not to move towards Kurt, forces himself not to reach out to comfort him. 

                ‘I don't know.'  His voice has lost the edge from earlier, but he's still standing and he is grateful for that for once.

                ‘Why can't you trust me, Blaine.  That's what all this is, isn't it?  Trust?  You don't trust me and I don't know why.  I just feel like I lose you and it kills me every time.  When you're with me, physically, it's like you're glowing you're so full of life, but then when we are apart it is as though something eclipses inside you and you withdraw.'

                ‘I do trust you.'

                ‘Then how could you even consider the idea that I would betray you like that?'

                ‘I don't know.'

                ‘I think you haven't forgiven yourself, Blaine.'

                ‘How can I?'

                ‘I don't know.'

Kurt smiles slightly and takes a step towards Blaine then pulls him into a hug.

                ‘I'm not saying goodbye to you, Blaine.  It's just a break, OK.  We just need to give each other some time and space.  We'll be OK.'  He's not sure who Kurt is trying to reassure – Blaine or himself. 

He feels numb as Kurt kisses his cheek then pulls away, picks up his coat from the sofa and makes his way to the door.

                ‘I love you, Kurt.'

                ‘I love you too.'

                ‘Kurt?'

Something in Blaine's voice makes Kurt pause as he stands in the open door way.  He turns.

                ‘When will I see you again?'

                ‘I'm still finishing in London in a couple more weeks.  How about I get a hotel nearby and we see how things go?'

Blaine nods slightly, swallowing, his mouth has gone try.  Kurt smiles slightly at him, then turns and closes the door behind him.

The click of the door releases something that was holding him up and he crumples to the floor landing on his knees. 

January

                He's not sure where the memory came from but it is back.  Thom notices something is wrong and stops, a concerned look on his face.

                ‘I'm worried about you – are you sure you're OK?'

                ‘Not really, no.  I think I'm remembering.  Could you continue?'  Thom frowns but nods slightly.

                ‘I tried help you but you were like a shell.  You were fine on stage.  But off stage…  A couple of weeks passed and then Kurt came back.  He was not OK that I was still living with you – apparently you'd said you'd ask me to move out but you didn't so that wasn't a very fun discussion.  Um… he stormed out, back to the hotel he was staying at, I guess.  You followed…'

November

                The wind was high and it whipped him as he followed Kurt, tearing at him as if trying to stop him with thousands of clawed hands.

                ‘Kurt, stop!'

His lungs ache from running and breathing in the chilled air, he reaches out and manages to grab a handful of Kurt's navy blue frock coat.  He spins Kurt to face him but he doesn't expect him to be crying.

                ‘Kurt, what's wrong?  What is all this about?  I thought the break was supposed to be good for us.  I thought this was supposed to be re-bonding time.  I mean – you're back now, right?  So we can…'

                ‘I'm going to be sick.'  Kurt wrenches himself away from Blaine and falls against the smooth granite of a building.  He coughs and Blaine wants nothing more than to rub Kurt's back, to make him feel better, but something in Kurt's voice had rooted him to the spot.  He recognised it because a couple of years ago it had been him.

                ‘Who…'  He stops himself and takes a breath but it does nothing to stop the sweat coating his palms or the ice in his blood.  ‘Was it…?'

                ‘It wasn't Michael.'

‘It was Sebastian, wasnt it?'

‘No, it…it wasnt Sebastian, but it doesnt… It didnt mean anything.'

Blaine stops breathing.  Kurt turns to face Blaine but doesn't meet his eyes.

                ‘I…I got very, very drunk…and I don't remember too much, but I do remember going to his house…'

                ‘I can't hear this…'  Blaine's voice comes out quiet and hoarse.  If Kurt heard him he does not react to Blaine having spoken.  It is as if the flood gates have opened and no force of the earth could stop him now.

                ‘…He reminded me of you – same hair, his eyes were chocolate though.  Yours are honey...'

                ‘Kurt, please don't…'

                ‘…Blaine…I…'  Kurt's eyes flick up and dance around Blaine's.  He's transfixed by the man in front of him and Blaine knows then what it is to feel someone rip out your heat and stomp on it.  He swallows and then engulfs Kurt in a crushing hug.

                ‘Shhhh…'

Kurt collapses in Blaine's arms, shaking uncontrollably.  Blaine sinks them both to the floor, the strength gone from his legs and unable to keep both of them upright, he rocks Kurt gently.  He's not sure how long they cling to each other.  He loses whatever feeling he had in his legs at some point – his feet are numb and he cannot feel his face.  He presses his forehead to Kurt's.

                ‘It'll be OK, baby.  It'll be OK.'  Blaine's not sure whether he's comforting Kurt or himself but he feels like he has to say something.  Apparently it is the wrong thing because Kurt's pulling away from him and trying to stand.

                ‘How can you say that?  It's not OK.  It'll never be OK!'

                ‘Kurt, stop it.  You made a mistake…  We all make mistakes.'

Kurt laughs at him then – full on hysterical.  Blaine struggles to stand and somehow manages to.  He takes a step towards Kurt ignoring the sudden agony of the pins and needles in his limbs as the blood returns to his limbs.

                   ‘I cheated on you, Blaine.  I let another guy fuck me and you, what?  Forgive me?   And we're OK just like that?'

Blaine flinches at Kurt's language but takes another step towards him.

                ‘I love you, Kurt.'

                ‘Why?  Why, Blaine?  I cheated on you, just like you thought I would and it felt great.'

                ‘Kurt, please…'

                ‘It was good, Blaine.  It felt so good.'

                ‘Stop it, Kurt.'  He reaches for the trembling man in front of him and kisses him.  ‘I don't care.  I don't care…'

                ‘Why?  You should care.  I betrayed you…'

                ‘I don't care.'

                ‘Maybe not now.  What about tomorrow?  What about a week from now?  A month?  One day you are going to wake up and hate me, Blaine.  You didn't trust me before what I did…  How can you ever trust me again?'

                ‘You trust me, right?'

                ‘I tried to, Blaine.  I really did.  But Thom…'

                ‘Thom and I never…'

                ‘The way he looks at you.  You used to look at me like that.'

                ‘I never stopped loving you, Kurt.' 

                ‘I came here to tell you to your face – you gave me that courtesy I thought I should…'  He takes a shaky breath and steps backwards away from Blaine.  ‘I'm leaving.  I'm done.  We're done.  There's no cleaning this up.'

                ‘I don't believe that.'

                ‘You have to.'

                ‘You don't get to make that call.'

                ‘Neither do you.  It's done anyway.'

                ‘What do you mean, Kurt?'

                ‘I called my boss back in the US…  I'm going to Paris.'

                ‘Kurt…'

                ‘I know what distance does to us.  We've proven that enough haven't we?'

                ‘Don't, Kurt, please…  I love you.'

The look Kurt gives him shatters his already broken heart.

                ‘Don't do this, Kurt, please.'  He hates how desperate he sounds.

Kurt turns and walks away.  Blaine tries to run after him but instead falls to his knees.

                ‘Kurt!'

January

                ‘…you were gone for hours.  When you came back you were really quiet.  Just told me that it was over and that he was leaving.'

Blaine nodded slightly and pressed his hands to his head – he could feel it in the back of his mind – a headache was beginning.  A bad one.

                ‘You were really oddly calm afterwards.  I kept expecting you to break down, for you to drink yourself into oblivion, for me to have to pick you up again.  But you seemed OK.  Resigned almost.'

Blaine massaged his temples as Thom talked.  Thom frowned slightly and motioned for Blaine to turn his back to him.  Blaine raised an eyebrow in question but the stars that have begun to infiltrate and burst behind his vision convince him to follow Thom's instruction.

                ‘Turn around.  Let me?'

Blaine did as Thom asked.  Thom gently manoeuvred Blaine into position between his legs then gently began to run his hands through Blaine's hair, massaging his scalp.  A small moan escapes Blaine's lips before he is conscious he has made a noise.

                ‘Another headache?  Honey, I'm getting worried about you.  Memory loss and headaches.  I think I should take you to the hospital…'

                ‘I'll be OK, Thom.  I think…the memories are coming back.  Tell me about us, Thom.'

Thom hummed lightly and moved his hands down Blaine's neck kneading lightly with his fingers.  Blaine listened as Thom talked, loosing himself in his cashmere voice, letting go of the pain and anguish and hurt and disappointment.  Letting go…