Kurt took longer than he had planned in the shower. He wasn't lollygagging. He needed the time alone to recover and think. But they paid for water, so Kurt had to do something else to justify the extra time. There was only so much one could do in the shower (after taking masturbating out of the equation), so he put extra care into cleaning and deep conditioning his hair, loofah-ed every rough patch on the soles of his feet, massaged his charcoal mud mask into his face, and then rinsed till his skin squeaked. He showered until the water ran cold, then did a complete second rinse to tighten his pores and get his heart pumping. If Blaine asked, Kurt could claim he was doing an extra bit of pampering since the bar atmosphere, the drinks he'd had, the sweat from dancing (and from sex), and then sleeping on filthy sheets, had wreaked havoc on his skin.

But the truth was he wasn't ready to face Blaine.

Kurt spent over an hour underneath the spray until he was finally okay. And he knew he was okay because he told himself so, multiple times.

“I can do this,” he said, turning off the water and reaching for his towel. “I can totally do this,” he repeated, patting his wrinkled skin dry. “This is a new day,” he continued, dotting on his face moisturizer, followed by his body moisturizer. “No reason for what happened last night to destroy anything. We'll move on from here. Continue like it never happened. Things don't have to get awkward between me and Blaine just because we slept with one another. We've slept with each other dozens of times. This isn't anything new. In fact, this will make things better. There's been sexual tension in this loft up the wazoo for months. We've gotten it out of our systems, and now we can move forward. That's it. Just … move forward. Just keep swimming … just keep swimming, just keep swimming …” When his personal pep talk devolved into a Disney show tune, he knew it was time to face the music.

Kurt took a breath, wrapped his robe tight around him, and left the bathroom. Whatever he found outside that door, he'd deal with it like a mature adult.

But when he stepped outside, Blaine wasn't there. The loft was not only quiet, it seemed empty - no sign of life aside from himself. It was Saturday, so Kurt couldn't think of anything that Blaine had to do. He could have gone down to the gym, decided to shower there since Kurt was taking forever, and blow off some steam in the process. Or maybe he didn't leave. Maybe he went back to bed to pass out for a few hours. Just thinking of bed made Kurt yawn. Apparently, after everything that had happened, a one-hour shower wasn't enough to wake him up sufficiently. Sleep sounded like an excellent idea. He'd go to bed, get a few hours of unconsciousness under his belt, and when he woke up, it would be like starting a brand new day.

Kurt went to his room, took off his robe, and, without putting on his pajamas, climbed under his covers. He melted into his mattress, the clean, cool sheets soothing against his freshly washed skin. He was determined to put last night behind him, go on as if it had never happened, even if he could still feel Blaine's hands on his body, his mouth on his chest, his fingers opening him up, touching him deep inside. And not only in a physical sense. They had come back to where it all began, been one in a way that Kurt didn't think they had since that first time they made love in Blaine's bedroom back in Lima.

The more he tried to push those memories aside and surrender to unconsciousness, the more they wanted to settle beneath his skin. The horrible part was they felt comfortable there. They felt right. They fit there, and in a way, they made him whole. Not because Kurt needed a man to complete him. He'd railed against that kind of thinking his entire life. He might want someone, but that didn't necessarily mean he needed someone. Blaine, in a way, was a perfect fit in that respect. He didn't try to glue all of Kurt's pieces back together, but the mess made more sense when he was around, and that was something Kurt had always felt a perfect partner was. Not someone who wanted to fix you, but someone whose presence made order out of the chaos. Blaine had been such an enormous part of Kurt's life, and not because he was Kurt's first real boyfriend, or because Kurt had lost his virginity to him. Blaine filled a gap that had been carved out by other people's bullying and Kurt's own occasional self-hate. He was the hand Kurt could hold when times got tough, the shoulder he could lean on when he deserved a good cry, the arms that would envelope him when he needed a little extra strength.

Kurt could make it on his own. He knew he could. He'd always known. But for the time that they had been together and loved one another, Blaine made things easier. Better. Even now, when Kurt had consigned the two of them to a future as simply friends, Blaine was one of the best things he had going in his life. He was the smiling face that greeted Kurt every morning and every evening; he was the person Kurt confided in first above everyone else, even his dad; he was Kurt's “date” to every movie and every musical he wanted to see, every restaurant he wanted to try. They lived their lives like a fabulous old married couple.

Could they actually end up being one?

Could Kurt be okay with giving Blaine a second chance?

Because if Kurt was really honest with himself, as much as he wanted to move on, he couldn't see a life without Blaine in it in some capacity.

He was afraid that he was beginning to take Blaine for granted without giving much of anything back.

Did Blaine even want to be there, living in the loft with him? Or was he trapped there by guilt, determined to spend a lifetime making amends for what he did?

If Kurt could make Blaine believe that he truly forgave him, would Blaine consider his debt paid and move out?

After last night, Kurt would say that Blaine wanted to be with him – honestly and undoubtedly wanted to be in a relationship with him.

Could they start over fresh?

Was that what Kurt wanted to see happen in the end? The two of them back together?

So many times he had looked at Blaine and said to himself cheater, unforgivable, non-negotiable, end of story. And yet he had dreams of them ending up together, of the wedding he had planned, their honeymoon, the songs they hadn't gotten the chance to sing, the vacations they never took … the children they said they'd adopt. He thought that maybe he held on to those things so tightly because of the effort he had put into the planning until one day he had a dream out of nowhere of the two of them eloping in a barn, of all places. And it didn't matter that they were out in the middle of nowhere, surrounded by over a century's worth of mildew and the stale smell of horses, with no one but their high school friends and family around them to witness. They were together. They were husbands. It wasn't about getting to the altar; it was about getting there with Blaine. They had moved on in their lives, but they had moved on together.

Because Kurt loved Blaine.

And it scared the living daylights out of him.

It was also the reason things never worked out between Kurt and Adam. Kurt had wanted them to work. Adam was a great guy – sweet, funny, and supportive. But he wasn't Blaine. And as much as Kurt wanted to be over Blaine, he didn't want to hurt anyone else during that process.

He didn't want to use Adam as a stepping stone, especially if he couldn't commit to the man with his whole heart. It wouldn't be right. Adam didn't deserve that.

Maybe this was where it was all leading after all. Maybe the task wasn't to find a way to live apart. Maybe it was trying to find a way to meld back together, pick up where they left off before the cheating, before the miscommunications, before the heartbreak.

Kurt thought about it and thought about it, knowing that he'd get no rest until he came up with a solution, because it would nag at him, sit in the forefront of his brain and poke at him until he came to a conclusion. Eventually, after sifting through his options and struggling with the pros and cons, one thing became infinitely clear.

He loved Blaine. He wanted to spend his life with Blaine. And he wanted that life to start right away.

Kurt began to get excited. He wanted to race out of bed and tell Blaine that instant, but he couldn't. He didn't want to blurt it out, not after the fit he threw this morning. (Wait? Was it still morning? Kurt had no clue …) Doing it that way seemed like emotional manipulation, no matter how genuine his intentions were. No, he had to ease into it, make sure that he and Blaine were on the same page, make Blaine see that things could be the way he had originally wanted them.

Make him see that Kurt wanted them that way, too.

Yes. That was the solution his brain was searching for. He felt calmer now, more relaxed, and as he tried to outline the steps he would take to win Blaine back – first his head, then his heart – he drifted off to sleep.

***

Kurt woke to the sound of footsteps outside his door, not in strides, but creaking in odd spots, as if someone was sneaking past, trying not to disturb him. Blaine. Blaine was home, or out of his room. This was it, Kurt thought. This was his chance.

Even though Kurt felt like he could sleep for about a week, his eyes popped open. He climbed out of bed and got dressed, not really paying attention to what clothes he put on as long as he was covered enough to be seen in public. He went over the ideas he had come up with before he fell asleep, trying to figure out the best way to start. He'd decided that he shouldn't make it into too big a deal. One of the biggest problems they had in their relationship was that everything became so drama filled, every issue so life and death. Kurt could make them a casual dinner and they could hash things out at the dinner table, or they could talk it out over a bowl of popcorn and an episode of Modern Family. He decided he'd see what kind of mood Blaine was in when he saw him. He'd know by the expression on his face when Blaine looked at him which way to lean.

But when Kurt finally came out, mildly styled (because he couldn't stand what he looked like when he passed by the mirror and saw his epic bed hair), and dressed, he caught Blaine coming out of his own bedroom. He had changed, too, and Kurt was right. He'd gone down to the gym and showered. His hair was mildly damp from it, a few loose curls hanging over his brow, begging for Kurt to brush them away and leave a kiss in their place.

But Kurt couldn't help noticing that Blaine was dressed nice.

Dressed to go out, he realized, and his stomach turned to lead.

“Oh. Kurt,” Blaine said, doing up the buttons to his coat. “I didn't know you were still here.”

That didn't sound entirely honest, but okay. Maybe what Blaine was saying was that he didn't expect to see Kurt before he left.

“Well, I am,” Kurt said, flashing what he hoped was an inviting smile. “I fell asleep in the shower and almost washed myself straight down the drain, so I thought I should, you know, maybe get some sleep.” Kurt laughed a little too hard. Blaine smiled, albeit uncomfortably. “Wh-where are you heading off to?”

“Oh …” Blaine looked surprised that Kurt wanted to know. Or maybe he was surprised that Kurt was talking to him after everything that happened. “I just … I need to go buy something.” Blaine nodded like that explained everything, but Kurt stared at him blankly, waiting for more. “For tonight.”

“Oh, really?” Kurt's voice held the tiniest hint of excitement. Maybe he hadn't pushed Blaine completely away. Maybe they were on the same page. Maybe they could talk this out, come to a consensus, start over again but go slow this time. Maybe they could learn each other anew. They could leave the angst and the hurt behind them and begin fresh, become Kurt and Blaine version 2.0. The more Kurt thought about that possibility, the more he wanted it. “What's going on tonight?”

“I have … well, I kind of have a … you know … a … sort of … date.”

Kurt stared blankly. He didn't quite understand what Blaine was saying. Was Blaine asking him out on a date? Because they always called going out a date, but that wasn't how this sounded. When Kurt did understand it, he couldn't believe it. How could Blaine have a date? They'd just slept together … Kurt had no idea how many hours before. He wasn't that savvy as to what time it was. But in that moment, Kurt felt his hope shatter, the last few hours of negotiating, soul searching, and planning on his part rapidly circling the drain.

“A … a date?” Kurt did everything in his power to keep the words from cracking. He raised his eyebrows, trying to think of who Blaine would have met from the time Kurt hopped into the shower until now. “W-with that guy from the bar? The one who threw the drink in your face?”

“No,” Blaine said, shy smile fighting to merge into a more serious expression. “No, the … the guy I was dancing with. Do you remember him?”

“Yeah.” Kurt had only caught a glimpse of the man while he was dancing, but he could picture him clearly – his luminous skin; his bright, white teeth; his huge biceps; his six pack showing through his clingy shirt. “A date?” Kurt sniffed (bitchier than necessary he'd admit to himself later). “Well, we both know what that means, don't we?”

Blaine looked flabbergasted and hurt by Kurt's insinuation. “It … it doesn't have to mean that,” he countered. “It's only a first date. Who knows if we're even compatible … that way.”

Kurt shrugged. “Doesn't matter if it means that or not. It's an option.” He sat on the sofa. He reached for a magazine off the coffee table and turned to a random page. He wasn't trying to act aloof.

He needed something to hold on to.

He needed something to hold him together.

“I … I don't have to go,” Blaine said softly. “I could cancel.”

Kurt didn't know if Blaine meant it, that he'd rather hang around with a bitchy Kurt as opposed to an attractive man whom he might have a connection with, or if he was offering out of guilt. Either way, Kurt couldn't let him give up his date.

Bitterness and disappointment had him acting like a jerk, but he couldn't be that level of jerk.

“We agreed this was a good thing,” Kurt continued, though when they had agreed on it, Kurt was failing to remember. “Besides, it would be rude to cancel this late anyway. You should totally go.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yes, I'm sure.”

“Really sure?”

“Really, really sure, Blaine.”

“Alright,” Blaine said, finishing up his coat. “Only if you're sure.”

“Of course, I'm sure.” (Kurt wasn't sure) “I'm more than sure. Go. Have fun. But be safe.” Kurt smiled without looking up.

“Alright.” Blaine walked backward toward the door, keeping an eye on Kurt in case he changed his mind. “Goodbye, Kurt.”

“Goodbye, Blaine.” Kurt mindlessly flipped through pages, acting like he was searching for something while he listened to the loft door open, pause, and then slide shut.

Then, Blaine was gone.

And everything started to suck all over again.

The second Kurt heard Blaine's footsteps fade down the stairs, he got up off the couch and went to the kitchen to make himself dinner, figuring he'd just call it an early night. There was chicken kiev left over from a few nights ago, eggplant lasagna, fettuccine alfredo, all dishes he had chosen with Blaine, prepared with Blaine, and eaten with Blaine. There was nothing in the refrigerator that he didn't either make with Blaine, buy with Blaine, or buy for Blaine.

He bypassed the fridge entirely and headed straight for the cabinet above, and his long forgotten bottle of tequila.

For the first time in his life, Kurt was going to drink his dinner.

He circled back to the couch, plopped on down, and cracked open his bottle. He figured he'd take a few sips, get a buzz going, and when he felt sedate enough to return to unconsciousness, he'd pour himself back into bed. With any luck, he'd sleep straight through Blaine coming home. Whatever happened on his date, Kurt wouldn't have the wherewithal to deal with it until morning.

So what if Kurt spent most of his Saturday unconscious? He was an overachiever most of the time. He deserved one throwaway day.

A sip of tequila turned into two sips. Two sips turned into four. Four sips turned into … a whole lot of tequila … but amazingly, none of it was making him sleepy. That was because he kept sabotaging himself. He was trying so hard not to think about Blaine on his date that all he did was think about Blaine on his date. He tried to distract himself with television, but channel after channel torpedoed him with sentimental, romantic movies – The Notebook, Moulin Rouge, Sleepless in Seattle, Love Actually. He almost settled for Titanic, thinking he could find the humor in watching Jack Dawson drown to death, but the second “My Heart Will Go On” began playing, he dissolved into tears. He finally gave up on television and went back to his magazine, but he couldn't sit still. He changed positions on the couch every three minutes, shifting from cushion to cushion, sitting cross-legged, then with his feet on the floor, with his legs crossed right over left, then left over right, reclining with his feet resting on the coffee table, laying completely flat, until he couldn't stand it anymore and stood up.

All the while he drank his tequila, hoping that eventually it would work its magic. It did, but not the way Kurt wanted it to. Reaching the half bottle mark became the impetus behind one unfortunate, drunken dial - one that he would later look back on and want to punch himself for, since it contradicted everything he felt about his relationship with this person.

Yup, sulking home alone, wide awake and finally drunk, Kurt did something he wouldn't be proud of.

Kurt even groaned as he dialed the number, his rational brain reminding him one final time before a swig of tequila rendered it useless for the remainder of the night that most decisions made while drunk are bad ones. Bad, bad, super-bad ones.

But tequila brain convinced Kurt to give it a shot anyway, glossing over all of things he had to lose, like a good friend and his self-respect. (Though, days later, he would send a box of Japanese butt-shaped candy to apologize, along with a card that read, “I'm a big butt, and I cannot lie,” which would be accepted with laughter and a hug.)

The phone rang twice, and a cheerful man answered. “Hey! Kurt! Long time no hear from!”

“I know, I know,” Kurt said, trying not to slur his words. “I'm sorry about that. I should have called earlier.”

“Well, you're calling now. That's all that counts,” Adam said. “So, what do I owe this honor?”  

“I was just wondering …” Kurt did his best to flirt without sounding as sloshed as he felt “… if maybe you'd like to come over and hang out.” Kurt's suggestion was met with silence, so he pushed a little harder. “We haven't hung out in ages. I miss our Downtown Abbey marathons. I think I'm behind by about three seasons.” Kurt attempted to laugh, but with his throat dry and burning, he ended up coughing instead.

“Okay,” Adam said, unsure. “Forgive me if I'm wrong but aren't you seeing Blaine?”

“No,” Kurt answered quickly, shaking his head for emphasis even if Adam couldn't see him. “Not together … no … not at all.”

“So, does that mean that you and he …?”

“Yup. Over.” The words caught in Kurt's throat. “Over and done with for a while now.”

“A-ha.” Adam sounded unconvinced, but slightly amused. “And you sound smashed out of your gourd because …?”

“I'm not!” Kurt turned away from the receiver to cover a hiccup, and Adam chuckled. “Well, maybe I had a sip or two. I just … I wanted to loosen up a little. You know ...”

Adam went quiet, and Kurt, not eager to make a bigger fool of himself then he knew he was making, went quiet, too. He had lobbed this ball – this deflated, pathetic ball – into Adam's court. He had to wait and see what Adam would do with it.

“Kurt, I know what you're doing.”

“What? What am I doing?”

“I told you before, I don't want to be your rebound. And I definitely don't want to be your revenge fuck. I care about you too much.”

“You won't be my rebound, or my revenge fuck,” Kurt promised, hating the way his voice sounded needy and desperate. “I swear.”

“Kurt, I will come over there this instant and make love to you on every hard surface in your loft if you can tell me right now that you are not in love with your ex.”

“I …” Kurt whimpered at the visual of Adam – strong and muscular, but also sweet and tender Adam – making love to him on the floor, against the wall, in his bed, on the sofa (where Blaine would catch them whenever he came back). And he wanted it. He wanted slow, romantic, and even dirty sex all over the loft.

But he wanted it with Blaine.

Kurt couldn't have that, and probably wouldn't have that at this point. Blaine was moving on. Didn't that mean that he should move on, too?

He thought he had, but now he wasn't so sure.

“I'm … I'm not in love with him,” Kurt persisted. “I …” But he couldn't get rid of the stammer in his voice, and that had nothing to do with the tequila. It had to do with him insisting on something that his brain and body knew wasn't true.

“You don't sound all that convincing, love.”

Kurt sighed. He wanted to put forth a better argument. He wanted to convince Adam, but more than that, he wanted to convince himself. But he couldn't, and he never felt lower in his life.

“Kurt, you're a great guy. An amazing guy. Any man would be more than lucky to have you, and I hope I get to be that man one day. So, if we get together, I want it to last. But if I come over now, I don't think we'll ever have a chance.”

“You're … right. I'm sorry.”

“It's all right,” Adam said, sighing like he had hoped for one more objection on Kurt's part, one more insistence that things were over between him and Blaine. All Adam needed was one more and he'd be on the subway. But Kurt didn't. “I think it's safe to say that we've all been there. Just … call me when you're certain this is what you want.”

“Yeah,” Kurt agreed. “Yeah, okay.”

“Goodbye, Kurt.”

“Goodbye, Adam.” Kurt hung up. He put his phone on the coffee table and sat in silence, shame and guilt shoving jealousy over to get a seat at the dysfunctional dinner table.

Kurt wondered how Blaine's date was going. What were they talking about? What were they doing? What did they have for dinner? (He assumed they'd be eating dinner. It was already – Jesus Christ! Ten o'clock!?) Did they stay in, or did they go out to a movie? Or more drinking and dancing? Did they kiss? And if they did, did Blaine kiss him first? Were they actually having sex? Sex on the first date wasn't Blaine's style … except for the time he cheated. But, for argument's sake, if they were having sex, which Kurt highly doubted, he wondered (selfishly, but still) would Blaine think about him at all?

That was one question that Kurt had had about the night Blaine cheated that he'd never had the courage to ask. Was Blaine thinking about Kurt when he was sleeping with that rando guy from Facebook? Did any thoughts of Kurt pop into Blaine's head? Did Blaine erase him completely … or had he been there all the time? Was thinking about Kurt, fantasizing about him, the only way Blaine could have sex with someone he didn't even know? Or was the opposite true?

Thinking about it brought him back to the one day he kept trying to forget but couldn't. Except this time Kurt had seen the guy. This time he had a frame of reference that made this nightmare more vivid. When he closed his eyes, he saw them together, peeling off each other's clothes, Blaine's hands running down his skin, his mouth everywhere, his tongue licking, lapping, caressing …

Kurt knew how it felt, how every single one of Blaine's kisses felt, every single one of his touches. He felt them on his skin now, remnants from last night and early this morning blazing hot to torment him.

And Kurt couldn't move.

So Kurt sat on the sofa, staring at the loft door, not because he was necessarily waiting for Blaine to come home, but because time had stopped in Kurt's head. He got so lost in thinking, visualizing, feeling, and then hating himself, that night became day before Kurt had consciously blinked his eyes.

When he saw Blaine prying the loft door open, trying to do it quietly so he could sneak through, Kurt knew. He just knew. And all of those touches became unbearable, because they didn't just belong to him. Someone else had them, too.

But Kurt couldn't blame Blaine.

This was Kurt's idea.

Kurt had said it was the right thing for both of them. Kurt had said it, and Blaine had agreed. They both agreed, and now Blaine was acting on it. He was doing what Kurt had said he wanted, what Kurt had tried to get him to do the night before.

What Kurt thought he needed in order to get closure.

But it didn't feel that way anymore.

He didn't have closure. He had a broken heart.