‘May I have this dance?'

Kurt rolls his eyes.

            ‘We've not spoken face to face in months and you invite me to dance?  You're impossible.'

He still finds his hand in Blaine's.

            ‘I could have handled that, you know.'

            ‘Of course you could.'

The music has faded away to the dull thud of his heartbeat and the shuffle of two pairs of feet in synch on the wooden floor.

            ‘Thank you.'  Blaine's eyes are painfully earnest and –

Is that guyliner?!

            ‘I think it was my turn.'  Blaine's smile is so bright it dazzles him. 

Kurt licks his lips.

            ‘That's new.'

            ‘Hm?'  Blaine's comment catches Kurt off guard and he frowns slightly.

            ‘Your tongue.'

Blaine's breath is smoky with alcohol, his lips moist, and Kurt finds himself mesmerised by their utter perfection.

            ‘There's a lot that's new.'

Blaine dips his head in agreement or quiet amusement - Kurt has no clue which.  The shorter man's eyelashes sweep his cheeks as he smiles again, so freely, and Kurt finds himself closer; Blaine's hand against the small of his back, the other secure in Kurt's free hand.  Kurt slides a hand around Blaine's neck.

Blaine hums a fragment of a tune. 

Puzzle pieces.

The vibrations whisper promises and regrets through Kurt's palms.

            ‘I missed you, Kurt.'

His breath catches - how can Blaine always do that to him?

            ‘I…I missed you too.'

            ‘I'm sorry about Christm-‘

            ‘Don't.  OK.  Please?'  Kurt forces himself to breathe out.

He gently rests his head against Blaine's shoulder.  Blaine's breath is hot and steady against his neck.  Kurt holds him tightly and for a moment they are back at the McKinley prom together and Kurt is safe, so safe and loved in Blaine's arms.  He inhales deeply expecting the bitter coffee and sharp-sweet raspberry of Blaine, but he smells different now - bergamot and cedar.  He feels Blaine's hand at his back tighten and allows Blaine to pull him closer still, hooking his chin over Kurt's shoulder, and Kurt feels Blaine begin to relax against him.  Kurt closes his eyes tightly, barely remembering to move his feet to the heavy beat.

They are jostled by another couple who are practically dry humping and the interruption switches the sound back on, and with it reality.

            ‘We shouldn't be doing this, Blaine.'  Kurt pulls back. 

            ‘Dancing?'  Blaine's confusion is real.  ‘It's just a dance, Kurt.'

His eyes are dark; circled with smoke and smouldering.  Kurt remembers the last time he saw Blaine under the influence of alcohol – he is always passionate when he has been drinking.  The taller man takes another step back and Blaine frowns – it tugs at something within Kurt.  Seams, hastily pulled together with essential running repairs, begin to unravel with those eyes – those imploring eyes, blown massive with alcohol and the darkness, that scream I love you at Kurt.  Those eyes that could see straight through him when no one else's could.  Those eyes that promised forever so earnestly that he had been utterly taken in by them. 

It is too much – too much touch and smell and far too soon.  Blaine has always overwhelmed him – his personal poison – and his mind tortures him with fragments of stunningly vivid nightmares that bring bitter bile up to his throat. 

Kurt's sleep had been plagued with them after Blaine's admission.  That night Blaine had torn the floor out from under him and all of his certainties, his hopes, his deepest fantasies had fallen deep down into the terrible yawning chasm that had grown within him.

Other hands, other tongues and teeth exploring flesh that had been his alone to touch and taste and smell and bite.  Other fingers, other nails leaving red marks on toned tanned skin.  Other lips making him scream out other names in delicious ecstasy.

Kurt bites his lip.

            ‘What's he like?'  He does not want to know.  He needs to know – fill in the blanks and make it all disappear.

            ‘Who?'

            ‘Your boyfriend, Blaine.  The man you're living with.'

            ‘He's not you.'

            ‘No – you don't get to say things like that to me.  Not anymore.'

            ‘What do you want me to say, Kurt?'

            ‘Do you love him?'

            ‘Did you love Adam?'

            ‘What has that got to do with anything?'

His lungs ache and his body has not caught up with the external situation because the very presence of Blaine is making his nerves itch.  He flicks his tongue stud against his teeth and counts in a vain attempt to quiet his treacherous body.

            One

Why does it have to be him? 

Two

Why didn't I feel this with Adam? 

Three

I wanted to!

One

This should have faded by now.

Two

I hate him for doing this to me.

Three

Blaine reaches for him and Kurt finds himself being led out of the club and into the cloying night air.  He closes his eyes and takes a breath and it is fast food and cigarettes and sweat, but it is better than the club where it had just been Blaine. 

            One

It is not better.

            Two

He keeps his eyes closed and focuses on breathing in and out, but he can still feel Blaine under his skin.

            Three

            Is there a cure for you?  I can't keep going like this – living this half-life you left me with.  I tasted forever, Blaine, and I know you did too.

He opens his eyes.  Blaine is lit by the blue and pink neon of the club sign – his tight white shirt flexes as he breathes, the top few buttons unveiling a perfect slither of skin.  Kurt forces himself to catch Blaine's eyes.

            ‘What's he like, Blaine?'

            ‘Why?  Why does it matter?'

            ‘Because…' 

Because he gets to see you naked.  He gets to fuck you.  He gets to see your crazy bed hair in the mornings and make you coffee.  He gets to explore quirky coffee shops with you and walk hand-in-hand through Central Park.  He is living my life with you and I cannot breathe.  I cannot fucking breathe. 

Onetwothree

Because if I knew maybe I could sleep.  Maybe if I could picture him I could get over you.

Onetwothreeonetwothree

Why now?  Why do I bump into you now?

‘I guess it doesn't.'  Kurt turns on his heel and is about to stride back into the club when he feels something shift.

‘Talk to me?'  Blaine's voice is quiet and there is a sadness there that Kurt feels in his gut – ice quenching the fiery despair of his heart like a blanket.

He turns.

            ‘Just – talk to me, Kurt?'

            ‘What is there to talk about?'

            ‘Are you happy?'

Kurt laughs at him and Blaine's eyebrows draw perfectly straight lines.

            ‘Are you?'

He feels pins prick his eyes and he forces himself to look away – at anything but the man in front of him.

            ‘I'm fantastic, Blaine.  I'm great actually.  I got into NYADA and my work for Isabelle is really taking off…  Santana lives with Rachel and I now – not sure for how long, it just kind of happened, and I broke up with my last boyfriend because for some reason I cannot get rid of you.  Is that what you wanted to know, Blaine?  Does that answer your question?'

            ‘Kurt, I –‘

            ‘Just go.  Just go back to your new boyfriend and your new life, OK?'

            ‘Kurt, please –‘

            ‘Stop saying my name like it is some kind of prayer to you!'

Blaine bites his lip and Kurt slaps a hand against the rough bricks of the wall beside his head.  Traffic surges by down the alley and somewhere an urban vixen screams.  Four men pour out of the club, throwing the door open with a bang that feels louder than the club music had and for a moment they are washed in the glow of party lights and pounded by bass.  One of the men gives a low whistle and Kurt hears a mumbled

            ‘Lover's quarrel, sweetheart?  Ohhhh – he's a cutie!'

He glares at them and the four make their way towards the nearby taxi rank with nothing more than a couple of catcalls.

            ‘What are we meant to do, Blaine?'  He is not certain when the first tear slid down his cheek but now that it has, others seem desperate to join it.  He hides his face as best he can but he knows that Blaine will notice.  Blaine always notices.

Kurt lets the other man pull him into his chest.

            ‘I don't know.'  Blaine's breath caresses his cheek and he feels rather than hears him.

            ‘I'm so mad at you.'  This is how he imagines Confession would feel.

            ‘I know.'

            ‘I really hate you.'  Lighter somehow.

            ‘I know.'

They breathe each other.

            ‘I want to meet him.'  It is an impulse. 

            ‘Who?'

            ‘Your boyfriend.'

            ‘I'm not sure that's the best idea, Kurt.'

            ‘Why?'

            ‘Would you have introduced me to Adam?'

            ‘I don't know.'

Hearts so close he can feel Blaine's pounding against his own ribcage as if it were a door.  Shelter from the storm.

            Please let me back in?

            ‘Congratulations, by the way.'

Blaine's heartbeat jumps and he feels him tense beneath his fingertips – that was not the reaction Kurt had been expecting.

            ‘What for?'

            ‘Nationals.  Graduation.  Columbia.'          

            ‘Oh.  Thanks.'

            ‘What did you think I meant?'

            ‘Nothing.'

            ‘Blaine?'  He pulls back and catches Blaine's eye – they seem to glow amber in the reflected light, framed by long sooty lashes shadowy with smudged kohl.

Blaine never could lie to him.

            ‘He asked me to marry him.'

Kurt wishes he had learnt how.

-+-

            If Blaine knows one thing it is that he is not going to run away this time.  This time he will stand his ground.   

            ‘He asked me to marry him.'

            ‘What did you say?'  Kurt's eyes go wide and Blaine mentally berates himself for not thinking before speaking.

            ‘I didn't say anything.'

            ‘Blaine…'

            ‘What, Kurt?  Why does it matter to you anyway?  It's not like you and I are OK – you said so yourself; it has been months.  Things have been hard for you with…with Finn, and your dad, and splitting up with Adam and I wish…I wish I had been able to hold your hand and be your friend, because I love you Kurt, and I always will.  If you had only let me...  But you pushed me away at Christmas, and again at Regionals, and I don't know where I stand with you.  You went through all that trouble to get my number from the Warblers then you ask me to call and never returned mine.  I tried, Kurt.  I gave you space.  I gave you everything I could…  I know I fucked up, but I…  You don't get to come back into my life and judge me, Kurt, because I've gone through a lot of stuff too and I know you know because Burt knows.'  He is panting with the pain of the truth.  He had thought that saying it would make him feel better but it does not.  If anything the words are tangible now a vivid cancer between them. 

            ‘My brother died, Blaine.  You cannot compare that to walking away from your family because they don't agree with who you're fucking.'

            ‘I didn't walk away!  You still have your dad, Kurt.  Who do I have, hm?'

            ‘You chose him.  You chose a man you had known for months over your family.  You chose him over your friends and you chose him over me.'

            ‘You weren't there!'

            ‘Neither were you!'

            ‘And whose fault was that, Kurt?'

            ‘I don't have to listen to this.  Have a nice life, Blaine.'

            ‘No – you know what, screw you, Kurt.  Screw you and your better than everyone attitude, because you know what?  I'm done.  I'm done with this and I'm done with you.'

His hands are shaking, he feels like he ran a marathon, but he manages to tare his eyes away from Kurt's shocked face and he gets into the first cab he finds.  Kurt's eyes haunt him throughout the drive – swirling blue and gold and wet, his eyelashes clumped, and his face flushed with anger.  He had sworn to himself that he would never be the cause of that pain again.  Not again. 

He does not recall giving the cab driver directions.

He looks out of the window and his vision churns.

-+-

            The heat of the club from the lights and the mass of soaking, gyrating bodies combined with the ambient summer warmth of the past day which seeps now from stone, concrete, and brick under cover of darkness presses down on him like a giant thumb.  He shouts to Hunter and the other man follows him as he makes his way outside to breathe air that has been through fewer stale lungs. 

The door is heavy but he manages to throw it open – it smacks into the side of the wall and he cringes slightly at the noise.  Someone is blocking his exit however so he has to stop and Hunter almost crashes into the back of him.

            ‘Kurt?'

            ‘Sebastian?'

Sebastian takes in the sight of Kurt, dishevelled and wretched, and his chest aches with the heaviness of dread – but there is no blood.  That is one thing at least.

            ‘God, Kurt – what happened?'

            ‘This is the Kurt Blaine was going on about all night?'  Hunter is incredulous and Sebastian nods, his attention never leaving Kurt's face.

            ‘He ran off again if that's what you're wondering.'  Kurt catches Sebastian's eyes with his own and Sebastian frowns.

            ‘Do you know where he went?'  Sebastian pulls his phone out and tries to dial Doug's number.  Kurt shakes his head.

            ‘He got into a cab.'  Kurt raises an eyebrow at Sebastian's companion but he is not in the mood to give introductions.

Unsurprisingly Doug does not pick up – it had been a long shot. 

            ‘Hunt – can you find Doug?  We need to find Blaine.' 

Hunter nods his head, sobering with the atmosphere and the fresh air, before heading back into the depths of the club to try to find their missing friend.  Sebastian reaches out to touch Kurt needing to do something, but the other man flinches back from him.  Sebastian's hand drops back to his side.

            ‘What did he mean?'  Kurt's voice is steel.

            ‘Who?  Hunter?' 

The other man nods slightly and Sebastian sighs.

            ‘Blaine was drunk.  He was waxing lyrical about your eyes in front of Doug.'

Kurt purses his lips, his brows knotted.

            ‘What happened, Kurt?  I'm guessing the two of you had a talk…'

            ‘His boyfriend asked him to marry him.'

            ‘Yeah.'

            ‘Does no one else think that is crazy?'

            ‘There's more to it than just that, Kurt.'

            ‘Well explain it to me then because right now I really don't know what to think.'

-+-

            It takes precious seconds and he gets a mixed reaction (cheers and whistles from the patrons, frowns from the bar staff, and angry shouts from the bouncers) but standing on the table helps him spot Doug.  He wades through dancing couples – most part before him and he silently thanks his time at military school for giving him presence.  Attempting to pry Doug away from a tiny woman with dark hair proves more challenging however.

            ‘This is Rachel!'

            ‘That's great, Doug.'  Hunter rolls his eyes.

            ‘She's from Lima!  What're the chances of that?'

            ‘Doug –‘

            ‘She's straight too!  She's here for a gay guy friend –‘

            ‘Doug – it's Blaine.'

            ‘What's up with Blaine?'

 Something about the name triggers something in the brunette.

            ‘Did you say Blaine?  Blaine Anderson?  Short, vaguely Eurasian looking, dark hair, dreamy eyes, sings?'

Doug nods and the woman laughs.

            ‘He's my friend's ex!'

            ‘Well if you're talking about a guy called Kurt – he's outside.'  Hunter grabs hold of Doug's arm and frogmarches him back through the squeeze of bodies towards the exit aware of Rachel following them closely.

            ‘Kurt!'  She barges past Sebastian and tries to pull her friend into a sloppy hug, but is rejected.

  Somehow Kurt looks worse than he did before Hunter had left to find Doug and the arrival of his friend seems to do nothing but agitate him further.

            ‘Rachel – go and find Santana and Dani.  I'm going to meet you back at the loft later.'

            ‘Where's Blaine?  The pretty boys said that you were with Blaine!'

            ‘Go Rachel.  I'll tell you about it later, alright?'

Sebastian and Doug seem to be having a quietly intense discussion of the kind one only has when one of the party is extremely drunk and Hunter's attention snaps in their direction when it becomes apparent that violence is brewing.

The brunette woman storms by with threats of “you better, Kurt!” and “I want details!”, but he ignores her and only just manages to stop Sebastian's attempt to wrestle Doug's phone from him.

            ‘What's going on, Bas?'

            ‘He's calling Douglas.'