Blaine takes another sip of his wine and watches as June purses her lips.  He smiles sweetly in response before returning to charming the young actress seated beside him.  The blonde has that doe-eyed look that he is quickly learning means he should withdraw a little to prevent awkwardness or hard feelings at the end of the evening.  He does, after all, need June's people on side – especially if they are to work together in the future as he suspects June hopes.  June is not exactly subtle.

He catches Douglas' shifting uncomfortably out of the corner of his eye and smoothly moves to include his fiancé in the discussion by introducing him as such to the actress, Aimee.  The young woman's grey eyes widen almost comically in understanding before she attempts to cover her embarrassment with her exclamation that

            ‘I knew I knew you from somewhere!  You're The Architect.  The one who designed that building in China!  My father's an investor - he showed me the article in the Time magazine.  He'd love to meet you.'

Blaine rests a possessive hand on Douglas' thigh and shoots a relatively smug look to June who merely rolls her eyes at him and laughs. 

Safely engaged in conversation with Aimee, Blaine rises from the red velvet seat between Douglas and the actress to (subtly he hopes) let them talk without him sandwiched in the middle.  As he squeezes his way out of the box he offers to get June a drink from the bar as a way to cover his departure.  He thinks he heard her answer in the affirmative but his mind is already elsewhere.  Thankfully, he knows her well enough now to know she would consider this a soda water event.  He manages to weave his way through the throng of chattering patrons towards the bar area – the noise is seemingly (and deservedly he thinks) positive.  If the second act is anywhere near as good and strong as the first he is certain that the papers will all boast good reviews in the morning.  The thought is a comfort – at least something was going as it should.  Rachel deserved her opening night to go perfectly.

He catches the eye of the bartender and places his order (changing his at the last minute to something a little stronger than the wine he had been drinking) and gives the number of June's box so that their refreshments can be delivered, before steeling himself to head back through the throng.        

Firm fingers catch his elbow and he is surprised to find himself enveloped in a bear-like facsimile of a hug.  For half a second he thinks it is Sam – and he cannot breathe, but it is not the smiling blonde who was almost his friend embracing him.

            ‘Blaine!  Rach didn't say you were going to be here.  I guess I shouldn't be surprised.  Where're you sitting?  Who are you here with?  Uncle Dougl…I mean, your fiancé?'

            ‘Doug!  Hi!  Uh…yes.  June got us tickets so I could hardly refuse…'  He manages to stutter as the broader man returns him to the relative safety of the ornately carpeted Earth. 

            ‘Why would you refuse?  It's Rach's Opening Night!  Oh…the Kurt thing?'

Blaine glances up from straightening his dinner jacket and bites his lip as his friend's face crumples a little in a strange mixture of concern and chagrin.

            ‘She told you?'  He tests the water lightly, heart pounding, but Doug does not seem angry…  He should be furious.

            ‘About the fallout you guys had?'  Doug's smile is a little faded and forlorn but the look of sympathy that he offers Blaine makes the slighter man sick to his already flittering stomach.

            ‘Fallout?'  Blaine's throat closes, his palms prickle…

‘Yeah.  It's a shame, man.  She didn't go into details, though Santana tried to say something else - until Rach threw a cushion at her, Kurt changed the subject, and then some old teacher of theirs showed up…  I…it's not my place to go delving into your business, Blaine.  Kurt's cool from what I know of him anyway.  I mean, he dresses a little funny, and he can be a bit… intense, but he's a good guy.  You're performing together in like three weeks, right?  You should really make up before then.  “Tension in a performance is always obvious.”'

            ‘I can hear Rachel in your words there, Doug.  I think someone's rubbing off on someone…  So, you're staying in Bushwick?'  Blaine's attempt to derail the conversation with humour works and Doug goes on to tell him all about the crazy that had descended upon the Loft seemingly oblivious to the emotional rollercoaster he just took Blaine through.  He somehow manages to hold himself together in some semblance of “paying attention” until the lights flicker to call the masses back to their seats.  He is about to escape safely to the box when he knows he has to turn around.  Their eyes catch and Blaine nods his acknowledgement before the other man can pretend not to see him.

            ‘Kurt!'  Doug's over-enthusiastic shout thankfully does not draw too much attention, but does effectively glue Blaine to the spot and forces Kurt to join them.

            ‘I was just coming to get you…the second act-'

            ‘-Thanks, Kurt.  I know.  Was just about to head back but look who I found!'  Doug takes Blaine's shoulders in his giant hands and squeezes.  Blaine tries desperately not to flinch.

            ‘I can see, Doug.  Thanks.  Blaine and I see plenty of each other at the moment during rehearsals at NYADA.  We really should be heading back to our seats, Doug, and Blaine should get back to his box, fiancé, and sponsor.  You know Rachel will literally kill us if she doesn't see us in the crowd – she needs us.  Especially after Sue walked out.'

Blaine really should have taken Kurt's cue – Kurt gave him the perfect out to leave, but he cannot stop himself.

            ‘Sue?  Sue Sylvester?' 

            ‘Yes…she's taken it upon herself to, once again, ruin everything she can so-'

            ‘- Doug, could you give Kurt and I a moment, here?  Won't be long - wouldn't want him to miss a single note.'  Blaine cuts in.

Doug, who had been unsure where to even look a moment before, smiles gratefully before making his way back to the Stalls.  Blaine places his hand firmly on Kurt's elbow, but Kurt makes no move to follow the other man.

The silence stretches out as the few remaining audience members scuttle to retake their seats, and Blaine takes the moment granted him to regroup.

-+-

            Kurt had shown up to their first rehearsal precisely on time.  In fact, he had attempted to beat Blaine to the rehearsal room, but his combat class had overrun and he had not had time to even grab a shower or change before they had been due to begin.  The result was that Kurt was too warm, sticky with drying perspiration, and not in the best mood.

He had taken Blaine's breath away.

Kurt had been overly formal and business-like in his manner – but his dishevelled and frankly debauched appearance clashed dramatically with the front he placed before himself like a shield.  Blaine masked his confusion and frustration by attempting to out-professional Kurt, and the rehearsal had ended on decidedly cold and unsatisfying terms.

The second rehearsal had been no better with Kurt declaring Blaine to be “embarrassingly out of practice” and Blaine retorting that Kurt was still “a little pitchy”.  The third was decidedly worse.  Sure, truth be told, there were moments during their rehearsals where they sounded fantastic together – but Blaine had already known that.  He had no idea what he had hoped for when he had chosen Kurt to be his duet partner, but it was not this. 

June had not pulled any punches with Blaine after sitting in on their fourth rehearsal, and had told him in no uncertain terms that if he disappointed her, or embarrassed her in any way, she would pull her patronage of him.  He would lose the showcase she had promised him.  He would lose the only thing he presently had keeping him sane; his future, because that is what June had become for him.  June was the spotlight in his darkness.  June was his key to making everything right again – she was his ticket to a career, his ticket to independence… 

When June had presented Blaine with the two tickets and the invitation to join her in her private box for the opening night of Funny Girl, Blaine had been unable to refuse.  Was this another test?  She must have known that Kurt would be there, supporting his friend – that is, after all what friends do is it not?  In the end he had had no choice – it was Douglas who accepted on their behalf.  Douglas had seemed oddly keen on attending the show, and deep down, Blaine knew that it was just an excuse to do something together for a change, so how could he refuse?

-+-

            ‘What do you want, Blaine?'

            ‘Kurt…I…'  He cannot help glancing towards the bar at once desperate for a glass of water and a diversion.  Unable to find one, and painfully aware that Kurt had begun to tap his foot, Blaine allowed his vision to clear and settled his gaze firmly upon the man before him.  Kurt's lapel was crooked and Blaine smoothed it before he even processed that his hand was moving.  ‘I wanted to apologise.'

            ‘You wanted to apologise?  Apologise?  Really?!'  Kurt's hand slaps Blaine's away as he takes a trembling step forwards into Blaine's space.  ‘What exactly did you want to apologise for, Blaine?  And why now?  We've spent hours in the same room together over the past few weeks.  Hours, Blaine.  You've had every moment you could possibly have wanted to talk to me, but –'

            ‘- Just stop.  For once, Kurt, just listen alright?'

The other man raises an eyebrow and snaps his jaw firmly shut in challenge.  Blaine squares his shoulders and takes a breath.  Then another.  Kurt's eyes are frozen daggers, his pupils jagged puddles of inky venom.  Blaine stops thinking; he takes Kurt's hand and turns, leading him away from the eyes of the bar staff and their inevitable gossip.  He tells himself it is as much for Kurt's protection as his own.

They are in a quiet, dark stairwell before Blaine realises that Kurt actually came with him.  He takes that as reassurance of a kind – Kurt at least cares enough to hear him out.

            ‘I chose you because you are the best.  I need you to know that.'  Blaine's voice is steady if hushed, but he does not risk a look at the other man for fear that he will somehow vanish like a fae or a wisp.  He pauses.  His breath reverberates in the echoing silence of the stairwell.

            ‘I know that.'  Kurt's voice is strangely soft as if he were crying.  Blaine instinctively risks a glance and finds Kurt's cheeks pale, but dry. 

            ‘Good.'  Blaine swallows harshly against his parched throat.  ‘You should…  I…  She doesn't like you.'

            ‘Your almighty benefactor?  I had noticed - I'm not blind, or deaf for that matter.  Is this the part where you tell me you've decided to choose someone else, Blaine?  Because we've done this dance I know how it ends so just say it; tell me and be done with it so I can go back to my seat and watch my best friend's dreams come true on her opening night.'  The venom in Kurt's words twist his mouth, and Blaine needs to take it all away.

            ‘That's what you think of me?'

            ‘Excuse me?'  Kurt's eyes widen a little, and his pink lips part in confusion.

            ‘You think so little of me?'

            ‘What do you want from me?  You're making no sense.  You drag me away into some dingy back-corridor to talk – so talk.  June doesn't like me so you're replacing me.  Again.  Am I right?'

            ‘No, Kurt.  God, no.  I…there is no replacement for you.'

            ‘Excuse me while I hold my sides together from laughing so hard.'

            ‘I know I've messed up, alright.  I'm one giant fuck-up and there's only one thing in my life that I am certain of right now and that it is our duet will be perfect.'

            ‘But June –'

            ‘I told June I'm singing with you.  That's it.  There's nothing more to that.  That's not what I needed to…  I am losing my mind.  I feel like I…  Just listen, please?'

There must have been something in the pitch of his voice or the tone because suddenly the pain and confusion clears from Kurt's eyes like a tidal mist, and the twin glasz orbs are fixed on him with concern.

            ‘Have you been drinking?'

            ‘Wine.  One glass.  This is…  That's nothing to do with anything –‘

            ‘-Don't think I didn't notice you eyeing the bar back there…  How much are you drinking, Blaine?'

            ‘Dammit, Kurt!  Would you just stop!  Stop pretending to care.  Stop it!'  His shout echoes around the fire exit like an unkindness of screaming ravens, but it is the shocked silence of Kurt's held breath that deafens Blaine.  ‘Kurt, what I did to you…it was unforgivable, but you offered me your forgiveness anyway, and I…I poison everything I touch.  Bas told me I was self-destructive.  That I actively sabotage everything around me until it is all…  I was a mess when you left.  I am still a mess.  But I am so grateful you left, Kurt.  I was too dependent on you.  I know that now.  I…  I look at you – at who you're becoming in New York – this man – and I know that you are better off without me.  You don't need me, Kurt.  Not like I needed you.  I think you did need me, once…but… Not anymore.  You don't need a June to help you get where you are going because you can get there by yourself.  The whole world will see just how amazing you are without someone shining a spotlight on you, don't you see that?  You don't need me….  But he does.

‘Douglas needs me, Kurt.  I need him.  I…  I…don't deserve him.  I know that.  I certainly don't deserve your help or your time, not after…but I would like your help, Kurt.  I need your help.  I know I have no right to ask this of you…but I think the duet could really work…  I miss being your friend, Kurt.  I…'

            ‘Stop, please…'  Blaine glances up through clumped lashes as Kurt's thumb brushes a burning tear away across his cheekbone.  Kurt's eyes are red but his voice is steady and Blaine marvels at the man before him.  Cold fingers grip Blaine's face and Kurt's words are so soft that Blaine fears any movement may break him.  ‘Blaine, I need you to answer me truthfully and honestly, alright?  Can you do that?  I need to know why.  I need to know why you chose him over me, and don't give me any bullshit about not having anyone else, or him needing you more, because…  Just tell me?  Did you stop loving me?'

            ‘I've never loved anyone more, Kurt.'

            ‘Then why?  Please tell me why.' 

            ‘I do love him, Kurt.  Not like us, never like us, but… he loves me -'  Kurt drops his hands in frustration but does not step away. 

            ‘-You know I love you!  I love you so much it hurts.  I can't sleep, Blaine.  I can't concentrate anymore; you are driving me insane.  As soon as I think that I can move on…as soon as I find myself there you are on another staircase offering to take my hand again and I can't…I…  I promised Dad that I'd tell you the truth.  The whole truth – and I thought I made myself clear, but apparently I wasn't clear enough because you are marry…you are wearing a ridiculously expensive ring.  So here it is: I love you.  I want you back.  In a perfect world you would just kiss me and all our troubles would melt away but this is reality and it is ugly and complicated.  I know that.  But I want to hear it from you.  I need to hear it from you…because if the answer is “yes” I don't think I can see you again.  I won't be able to, Blaine.  And I really hope you understand what I am saying here.'  He takes a breath.  ‘Are you going to marry Douglas?'

            ‘I thought I was.'

            ‘”Yes” or “No”, Blaine – this is primary school stuff here.'

            ‘I don't know, Kurt!  Tell me something while we're being open and honest: you say you love me.  There's nothing left to love.  What is it that you love?  You put me on a pedestal and expected me to live up to that perfect vision of the Dapper Private School Boy who Saved You!  Guess what – I'm not him.  I'm not…  There's nothing left-'

            ‘-You honestly believe that don't you.  What happened, Blaine?  What happened to the boy from Dalton who took my hand?  He certainly wasn't perfect but I loved him.  I still love him.  Where did he go because he's not here right now!'

            ‘He grew up!'

            ‘So flunking out, shunning all the people who care about you, drinking, and doing drugs is growing up!  That's where I've been going wrong!  Because, I thought…I thought that growing up was taking responsibility for your own actions and the impact that they have on other people.  I thought it was being true to yourself –'

            ‘-That's not fair, Kurt.  You have no idea what it was like!  You-'

            ‘-You're not denying it though are you?  At least for once you're not lying or trying to run away from the truth.  Did you know Miss D is in the hospital?  Yes, she took whatever it was that you took…  She has…She needs a new kidney, Blaine.  Elliot's a mess.  She could…she could die.  That could have been you!  You could have died!-' 

            ‘-Like you you mean!  Do you have even a clue of what that did to me, Kurt?  Hearing you'd been beaten?  Listening to Adrian list every one of your injuries?  I wanted it to be me.  I would have given anything for it to have been.  I close my eyes sometimes and all I can see are your tears.  I did that to you, don't you understand?  I am poison-'

            ‘-Stop it!'

They are both panting; the sound scrapes along naked breezeblock walls.  Kurt's colour is high in his cheeks, his lips parted, eyes narrowed and furious.  Blaine rolls his head back against the wall behind him and closes his eyes against the spectre before him.  It feels like an age – he can almost imagine himself away – perhaps at the seaside listening to the waves lap against the shore, not stood in a dingy fire escape of a theatre submerged in the echoes of thundering furious breath.

            ‘What happens now?'  Kurt's voice is level and something in it opens Blaine's eyes for him.  His runs his palms across the rough surface behind him, scrabbling for purchase.

            ‘I really wish I knew.'

            ‘She's going to kill me.'  Kurt glances at his wristwatch and grimaces.

            ‘I'm s-'

            ‘-Don't.  Just, don't.'

Blaine watches as Kurt slides to sit heavily on a scuffed metal step.  Kurt's damp lashes graze the apples of his cheeks as he stares at his shoes, but makes no movement to leave.  Blaine knows he should feel awful for making Kurt miss the second act, but he cannot summon the energy within himself to care.  June will be furious with him, Douglas will be worried…  Blaine finds himself with his back to the wall across from Kurt on the floor.  He stretches a foot out and touches his immaculate shoe to the tip of one of Kurt's in some twisted gesture of solidarity, or defeat – he has no idea which.  The other man glances across at him, and Blaine finds that he does know something.  One thing to be precise:

            ‘I love you, Kurt Hummel.  I have always loved you, and I think I always will.'

-+-

            ‘I was awful wasn't I?'

Doug had been bombarded the second he had entered the dressing room.  After trying at least six times to reassure Rachel (“you were fantastic”, “don't pay any mind to Coach Sue”, “Kurt didn't mean to upset you – he…something came up!”) he subconsciously takes a step back physically (and mentally) before turning to look helplessly at the rest of the small group of friends. 

Santana shoots him a tired look before stepping forwards with an overly dramatic roll of her eyes, ultimately forcing the pacing, dressing-gown-wearing brunette to sit down.

            ‘Listen, Berry, and listen good because this is the first and last time I'm going to say this: you were amazing up there.  The critics are going to be raving tomorrow in the papers and we're all in awe of your greatness.  Got it?  Now stop fretting over the ridiculousness that is Sue Sylvester – she just wanted to get under your greasy skin (behold her success by the way).'

            ‘But Kurt -!'

            ‘-I'm sure whatever happened to Hummel – it was important.  There's no way he'd have missed the fruition of months of treading softly around Diva Berry for anything.'

            ‘But -'

            ‘-No more ‘but's!  We're going out.  Up.  Come on get changed!'

            ‘Kurt –'

            ‘-is a grown man who I will personally interrogate later, alright?  We are going to celebrate you, and for once you have some man candy on your arm who doesn't make me want to take an immediate sponge-bath in bleach.  You get to win, Berry.  Enjoy it!'

-+-

            ‘I've tried calling him…'

Douglas' voice is pinched, his eyebrows creased – he seems, to June, to have aged demonstrably since they had first taken their seats that evening.  She shrugs her shoulders and offers some words she hopes are suitable before taking Aimee's hand and asking her to be a “sweet girl” and ask the ushers (and the bar staff) whether they had any inkling of where Blaine had disappeared to.

            ‘People don't just vanish, Douglas.  I'm sure it's nothing.'

            ‘He's been so focused recently…did I miss something?  I thought-'

            ‘Well, it was a bit of a bore – perhaps he went to get some fresh air?' 

‘He's not been sleeping…and he has been working very hard on the NYADA dedication…'

‘Exactly.  Now, I suggest you go back to that lovely place of yours and wait for him there.  He'll show up, Douglas.  They always do.  My second husband was always prone to going for “walks” – came back smelling like Blaine does too.  That is something you should be concerned about, if anything.  He's drinking too much.  I never thought I'd say that but that's the fact of the matter.  He's got talent, and he's going to make us both proud, but you need to intervene now or it will only get worse; mark my words.  Now – home with you.  I need to have a chat to Aimee about that next production she kept going on about.  I know the director – now he is a philanderer if ever I saw one.  She's much better off waiting another month until I can set up Blaine's showcase.  I see a bright future for the two of them in a musical number….'

-+-

            Douglas prowls from kitchen to study, bedroom to music room.  He does not find any secret stashes or any empty bottles, and, though a relief in some respects, he knows that in a way June is still right.  The drinking, the drugs, Benedict Charles – they are all connected, he is certain of that.  He fists his fingers through his hair and finally sinks into the buttery leather of his favourite chair in the study.  Before him lie designs and sketches – fragments of ideas taking life slowly – white lines on blue paper.  He propels them from his sight.

What had changed?  What had happened in the interval that had stopped Blaine from returning?  What had he missed?

He missed months of signals from Adrian only to return home one day to find all trace of the other man gone…  Was he headed down the same path again?  He had given Blaine everything.  Blaine could want for nothing…  What could have happened?

Kurt.

Douglas' treacherous mind supplies.  But that could not be.  Yes, they were performing together in a couple of weeks but according to June the chemistry was all wrong…  He knows June's kind well – she would prefer Blaine to have chosen a female duet partner – even though rumours were that her third husband had been gay.  A female duet partner would help Blaine to pass…but surely that was no longer necessary?  He had said as much to June; his mother's friend had simply smiled tightly and acquiesced, focusing her complaints instead on the obvious tension between the two young men.  Had he missed something?  Surely not.  Blaine loved him.  They were engaged.  These were facts.

He raises and stalks towards the kitchen.  Whatever this was all about they needed to have it out regardless of his abhorrence of conflict.  That is what couples do in healthy relationships after all?

Trading his usual scotch glass for a mug (perhaps he too has been a bad influence?) he sets about making coffee.  The mundane task is oddly comforting and he finds himself musing at the first time Blaine had appeared, barefoot and frozen, in his apartment.  He had made coffee then too – little rituals of normality, comfort, and peace.

The caffeine is anything but soothing, however.  He paces back to settle in his study and, after depositing his mug on the leather-topped desk, stoops to pick up the blue-prints, reorders them, then places them in a neat pile before settling back into his chair to once again wait for Blaine. 

-+-