Has there ever been a moment in your life when you realise nothing is how you've always believed it to be? Nothing is how you've been told, how you've assumed, how you've learnt.

The world's different. It's complicated in ways you've never even thought about.

It's a mess; it's cluttered and cramped. An amalgamation of pain and pleasure, certainty and uncertainty, what you know and don't know, everything fading into a grey spectrum between everything and nothing.

People's lives weave together everyday. Sometimes they touch; paths cross for the briefest moment before veering off perpendicular to each other, never to cross again. A stab of pain and loss and regret but then it's gone with the wind and the world continues to turn.

Other times lives race along next to each other, parallel; spending an eternity never touching but always there, always present, always just out of reach. This aches, but it lessens, over time. That feeling dissolves and evaporates until just the vapours remain and you get on with you life.

Then at times two lives knot and tangle and intertwine together, binding and meshing until the first point of contact is lost among a million more touches, a million more smiles and tears and loves. These are the hardest ones to let go of, because when two lives crash together like that, when they mould and shape to fit another life beside their own, when they fall in love, all that's left when those two lives get torn apart are rips and frays and breaks. A human sized hole in your chest which that person used to fill and an emptiness that could rival a cathedral.

That's when you realise the world is nothing like you believed; it hurts. And there's no amount of apologies or affirmations or adorations which will heal you, no hands which can sufficiently tie together the broken strings of your life. It's just you, with a hole in your heart, lost in the twisted, decrepit, fucked up world you've got to live in.

/

"Kurt!"

Kurt takes a deep breath, in through the nose, out through the mouth, before turning at the sound of his name being called, loud as a foghorn from the other side of the apartment. "What?" he calls back, equally loud.

"You got a second?" his flatmate calls, causing Kurt to sigh dramatically, dropping the pencil in his hand. He pushes back his chair which scrapes against the wooden floor, and stands, irritably cracking his knuckles as he leaves his calm, quiet, organised bedroom and heads into the living room and kitchen, which is considerably less calm, quiet and organised.

There's music playing loud through a badly tuned radio, top 40's tracks mingling with a woman on the TV, whisk in hand as she beats eggs. Books are piled high on the coffee table, small novels and thick, hard backed references books, papers sticking out of each one at various points. Clothes are also slung around the room, a jacket over the back of the couch, balled up socks on the kitchen counter, a pair of jeans by the front door. Kurt's eyes roam over the room, taking in the destruction which after three years he's finally used to, or more correctly, he's finally fed up of arguing about. His eyes eventually settle in the kitchen where his best friend is stood, yellow apron loose around his neck, tucked a little into his jeans, rolling pin in hand.

"What are you doing?" Kurt asks in disbelief, eyes taking in the lump of unnameable substance which Cooper's flattening against the counter, flour up his arms and smudges on his neck, an egg smashed on the floor and chocolate melting in a pile where the sun is streaming onto it. Cooper's head jerks up and he grins impossibly wide, rubbing his forearm over his head, leaving a streak of flour in his dark hair.

"I'm making cookies for Lex," he says proudly as he dusts off his hands and continues to smile at Kurt, nodding towards the TV where the woman is quite clearly making a soufflé. "What?" he asks, smile dropping as Kurt's face becomes incredulous and he laughs emptily, raising a disdainful eyebrow.

"First of all, she's not making cookies," Kurt chastises with a point to the TV, picking up the nearby remote and muting it, biting the inside of his cheek to stop his grin.

Cooper frowns before speaking, "I know that! I just thought if I left it on long enough some cookie recipes would come on," he pouts a little, blue eyes bright as Kurt walks towards him.

"What, and you were just seeing how much mess you could make in the meantime?" Kurt complains, taking the rolling pin from his hand and putting it out of arms reach, not trusting him with it. "And seriously Cooper," he groans, washing his hands quickly, "that's supposed to be cookie dough?" Kurt asks, pointing at the offending lump of gunk.

"Yeah, what's wrong with it?" Cooper asks, turning back to frown at it, unable to see where he's gone wrong, a spot of flour on the tip of his nose.

"I thought you and Lex broke up anyway?" Kurt asks delicately, lifting the congealed mess back into the mixing bowl, trying to figure out where to begin.

"We did, but I want her back, and people love when you make stuff for them, so…" he shrugs, as if it's that easy. "Anyway," he starts again, wiping his floury hands on the apron, causing specks to catch and float in the air, in the warm sun which falls through the window. He turns to the laptop Kurt hadn't noticed sat on the kitchen island, flicking through internet tabs before stopping on American Airlines, and instantly Kurt's body fills with dread.

"No!" he says before Cooper's even had a chance to speak, "I am not going on a plane with you again," he insists, shaking his head as he turns away from Cooper's hopeful grin, adding more butter to his mix and kneading it with his hands.

"Oh come on Kurt, I wasn't that bad!" Cooper insists, picking up the laptop to hold it in front of Kurt. "We've both got a week off, we might as well go home together," he nudges Kurt's hip playfully as he leans down to retrieve a baking tray, almost knocking him over.

"No," Kurt insists, refusing to look at the screen. "Do you not remember the last few times you've flown?" Kurt asks, pleading Cooper with his eyes to not bully him into this.

"So I'm not the best flier, we can't all be as cool and collected as you," Cooper winks, to which Kurt rolls his eyes. "Come on, it'll be fun," he promises, nudging Kurt to look at the screen again.

He does so, albeit reluctantly. But after a few seconds of thinking about it he can't help but consider the idea; he hasn't been home since Christmas, it being early April now, and with a week off college it'll be the only opportunity he'll get before summer. "It won't be fun," he says weakly, although his resilience is dropping the more he thinks about it, and the more Cooper holds the cheap flights in front of him.

"Name one thing about last time which wasn't fun," Cooper challenges, putting down the laptop and leaning cockily against the counter beside Kurt.

"I can name a dozen things," Kurt insists, flicking his eyes up angrily to glare at Cooper. "Number one; you crippling my hand on takeoff. Number two; watching you be lead off for a full body search. Number three;" Cooper can't help but chuckle as Kurt recalls previous incidents, who himself can't help but grin at the memory of Cooper's various flight related ordeals. "Number three;" he repeats, elbowing Cooper away when he tries to help shape the cookies, "you being forcibly removed from the plane on landing for being, and I quote," Kurt says, holding up an accusing finger, "'drunk, disorderly, and a potential hazard to the safety of the other passengers'-"

"Okay, okay, I get it," Cooper interrupts with an unwavering smile, "like I said, I'm not a relaxed flier, but come on Kurt," he whines, "I really wanna go home." He pouts as he takes the baking tray from Kurt and slides it into the oven. Kurt sighs and leans over him, adjusting the temperature before moving to wash his hands, allowing the silence to stretch as he contemplates the options. "You know I won't go alone," Cooper adds after a minute, making guilt swell like a balloon in Kurt's chest.

Kurt turns and stares at the still open webpage, flight dates for a week's time bright and tempting in front of him. He then turns to look at the man beside him, his wide, hopeful eyes, hands clasped together in front of him as if praying.

He sighs before speaking, "I have a few conditions," he bargains.

"I agree to all of them," Cooper exclaims, the widest, most childlike smile lighting up his face as he grabs Kurt in a fierce, floury hug.

"You don't even know what they are yet!" Kurt complains, scratching at his arms to make him let go. He eventually does, beaming so wide anyone'd think Kurt's just handed him the world. "Firstly, no drinking," Kurt says, earning a chuckle from Cooper.

"Okay, no drinking," he agrees.

"Please do not mention drugs again," Kurt begs. Cooper laughs uproariously at that, throwing his head back, eyes scrunching shut.

"Come on Kurt, you've got to admit, that guy did look suspicious," he complains, scrunching his face with the memory.

Kurt shakes his head but can't hold back the smile which creases his face, "yeah, he looked suspicious, but you're the one who started shouting about heroine and ended up with a cop's fingers up your ass."

"Hey! That's a good night out for some guys," he teases, to which Kurt punches him hard on the arm, making him laugh even more. "Okay, any more rules? Should I write these down?" he asks playfully, pretending to lick a pen and scribble on his palm.

Kurt rolls his eyes as he thinks of more rules. "No hitting on the female pilots," he tells him sternly.

"I like women in authority, sue me!" Cooper complains, raising his hands either side of him in a whatcha-gonna-do-about-it gesture.

"Whatever, find other women in authority, not the ones flying our plane," Kurt makes him promise before speaking again, "and you're paying for my cab fare home," he adds.

"Okay, I'll get dad to give you a lift home, anything else?" Cooper waits expectantly, raising his eyebrows questioningly.

Kurt paused for a second, watching Cooper's expectant face. "I'll let you know if I think of any more," he finally says, watching an easy smile spread across his friends face.

"You're the best," Cooper finally says through his smile, all joking aside as he beams, before turning back to his laptop and clicking for the cheapest flights.

"I know," Kurt says through a dramatic sigh, listening to Cooper laugh before turning and making his way back to his bedroom.

He slides back in behind his desk and picks up his discarded pencil, eyes roaming over the half drawn suit he was working on. He glances at his phone beside him, contemplating whether to ring his dad and let him know he'll be home in a weeks time.

In the end he decides not to, preferring to surprise his family and just turn up on their doorstep. So instead he erases a few mistakes on the paper, sketching a new collar and button detail, listening as Cooper sings along to the radio, voice out of tune and grating, making him grin nonetheless.