Empty.

He’s empty and all he wants is someone to fill him up. Cast a light in the shadowy recesses of his loneliness until he glows with it, with happiness, love, laughter, anything but the aching void that is currently possessing him.

Toeing off his shoes, he silently makes his way into the living room, taking off his pea coat and laying it over the arm of a chair. He can’t bring himself to care enough to hang it up.

The mail has been left on the end table, a jumble of white and brown envelopes left unopened, waiting for him to open them, pay them, organize their lives into some semblance of order. Picking them up he absently looks through them; lights, cable, phone, water, bills so their life can run with orderly function.

Kurt can’t bring himself to focus, can’t concentrate on the feeling of the paper in his hands, he doesn’t feel the pressing need he normally does to open, organize, to fix all the aspects of their lives.

He drops the bills back onto the end table, barely noticing when they scatter and half the stack falls to the hardwood floor.

The remains of their dinner is scattered in empty cartons across the coffee table. They have been hurriedly eaten and left forgotten, left for him to clean up. He notices absently that they hadn’t saved any, hadn’t made a plate for him to eat when he got home.

He always remembered to plate up the leftovers for his absent boyfriends, making sure they were taken care of before he’d dispose of the left over cartons.

They’ve left the half eaten food out to spoil.

Moving past the coffee table he glances into their small kitchen, taking in the dishes scattered haphazardly across the black granite counter tops. They’re always leaving their mess behind.

He wonders if he’s the current mess they’ve unwittingly left behind.

Closing his eyes, he takes a deep fortifying breath. There’s no one here for him now. Nothing to stay for, nothing left of what they were. There hasn’t been anything for some time.

The glass panes of their floor to ceiling windows call to him. The city beckons below, calling, waving hello from the streets, the bright red flag of cars passing by.

He’s not sure when he moved, why, how, but his fingers are pressed to the cold glass, breath fogging his reflection. It’s obscuring him from view and the metaphor can’t be ignored.

He is nothing.

He isn’t here anymore.

Pressing his forehead to the glass, he rolls it back and forth, staring the eight stories down to the street below. The people are moving like tiny scurrying ants, cars whizzing past at alarming speeds. The working girl from the diner had it right.

The world hasn’t ended, it’s still moving, the city still breathing. Kurt feels like he’s standing still. As if he were stuck, glued, tossed back into the past.

He can hear the quiet murmur of voices from down the hall, harsh grunts, and breathless whimpers.

His feet carry him on. They take him down the hallway to their bedroom. What was his bedroom, but he acknowledges that it hasn’t been his in a while. He’s not sure if it ever truly was.

Standing in the doorway he can see them, naked, tanned, slick with sweat, straining against each other, Sebastian’s fingers are tangled in Blaine’s curls, pulling his head back, holding it against his chest.

They are on their knees, Blaine being held immobile by Sebastian’s fingers in his hair, one hand clamped tightly to his hip, pulling, pushing, keeping him in place as Sebastian slowly slides into his body. Sebastian’s eyes are closed, savouring, teeth biting his lower lip as he moves, graceful and sure. He tears Blaine down, builds him up, and breaks him to pieces with every move of his hips.

They are fucking each other on what used to be their bed, perpetuating the farce with whispered words of love, longing, soft breaths panted into overheated skin.

There’s no love here anymore.

Kurt can’t seem to look away, can’t close his eyes, can’t block out the image they make.

His boyfriends.

The men he’d planned on spending the rest of his life with.

He just hadn’t realised the rest of his life was going to be only a few short years.

Blaine whimpers, pulling Kurt’s focus from the gentle flex, flex, thrust of Sebastian’s hips. He whimpers high and keening as Sebastian adds a swivel to his hips, scrambles for purchase on Sebastian’s thighs as he’s held in place, mouth falling open and eyes squeezed shut as he comes apart.

Falls to pieces around Sebastian’s cock.

Kurt remembers when they used to wait for him to get home. As soon as he entered the apartment there they would be, eager and panting, nearly attacking him, with laughter, smiles, and hot eager hands.

He wonders when they stopped waiting.

His shoulder bumps the door frame and he realises he’s dizzy, holding his breath, lost in the moment of watching them. Glancing up towards Sebastian’s face, Kurt’s shocked to meet Sebastian’s hot eyes, blown wide with desire, black with it.

Their gazes clash and Sebastian’s hips stutter, falter, slam into Blaine with more force as he keeps Kurt’s gaze. He was watching Kurt as he pushes Blaine forward, push, pull, tugging him down onto all fours so he can grip both hips in each hand, toes curling into the sheets for purchase.

He stutters, slams, braces himself as he quickens his pace; see sawing back and forth without ever dropping Kurt’s gaze. Mouth open, panting, gasping for air as he falters, fingers bruising the tender skin in the hollows of Blaine’s hips, falters and comes without ever dropping his eyes.

Blaine whines, keens, hand going to his own neglected cock as Sebastian pulls out without consideration. He falls to his side, hand sliding, gripping, firm and stroking until he’s coming over his fist in long ropey strands.

There are no words.

Sebastian stalks towards him. Eyes focused, intent, heavy lidded as his lids blink slowly closed. Open.

Kurt can’t breathe. He can’t draw air into his lungs as Sebastian comes, naked, towards him. He’s frozen, cold, afraid to move for fear that this is all a dream.

Fingers tangle in his hair, curl at his nape like they belong there.

There are lips, tongue, touch all in that moment and Kurt wants to cry at the difference. Their lips slide slick, spit wet and messy as they kiss.

Kurt can taste Blaine in Sebastian’s mouth.

Sebastian’s fingers tighten in Kurt’s hair, forcing his head back, causing him to wince at the sudden pain. Kurt’s eyes closed as he takes a breath, a moment, gathers the tattered remains of his control around himself, and pushes Sebastian back, away.

One of Sebastian’s eyebrows quirk, lips tilted up in a smirk, as he gazes quizzically into Kurt’s questioning gaze.

There’s no heat in his eyes. Kurt can’t see the fire that used to burn there.

Making his decision, Kurt nods to himself, fingers going to the button on his slacks, undoing the zipper, without breaking eye contact with Sebastian. He opens the fly, letting his hard cock hit the air, before placing his hands on Sebastian’s shoulders and pushing him down.

If this is going to be goodbye, he wants to feel it.