120 Hours.

7,200 minutes.

432,000 seconds.

21,600,000 beats of a hummingbirds wings.

432,000,000,000,000 nanoseconds.

Blaine is tired of waiting; of wondering if and when he will ever hear from Kurt again.

19 days ago he had woken up in his bed thinking Kurt would be with him.  Thinking that after all the words and, well, not words they had said to each other that he had found something special.  Something to hold tight to and build a foundation on.  Something to be proud of.

But Kurt had been gone.

Blaine had been wrong.

The days that followed had been long and cruel to Blaine.  He felt empty; devoid of emotion and drained of his capacity to want anything for himself ever again.  He had put himself out there, let Kurt know that his heart was there for the taking and he...he had rejected it.  Rejected him.  He felt used and cheap which he found darkly ironic considering the situation he had put himself into.  He had ranted about it endlessly to Jules, first cursing Kurt for breaking his heart into jagged, ripping pieces, and then himself for ever going to Desiderate in the first place.  Jules just held him as he cried, emotions he had kept bottled for years bubbling up and bursting over the dam that had been shattered by piercing blue eyes and hushed whispers on ballroom floors.

Blaine was determined to forget him.  To shed the thin skin of Kurt’s touch from his bones and erase the ache in his chest being stoked by the memory of his laughter.  He ran alternately hot and cold; furious and decimated at letting himself wish and dream for something that the other man had simply not wanted.

7 days ago, though, he had found that he was wrong again.  So very, very wrong.

It came at the end of a high-stress day.  He had been introduced to new clients - his biggest caseload yet - and his superiors had spent the time out at their business dinner singing Blaine’s praises.  It was flattering, yes...but he hoped he could deliver.  His mind had been mottled and distracted and he couldn’t afford to fuck this up.  His brain had been busy clicking through the basics of the numbers he had already seen when he saw the letter, tucked in between his copy of The New Yorker and his bank statement.

It was in a plain business envelope, no return address, and when he looked at the postmark he saw it had been routed through White River Junction, VT.

He didn’t know anyone in Vermont.  Who lives in Vermont?  It’s just...cows, trees, and Ben and Jerry’s.

He had sighed and dropped his briefcase and keys before getting settled on the couch and ripping it open.  He was surprised to see that it was hand written and his eyebrows raised quizzically before he settled upon reading it, his eyes growing wider with each sentence.

Dear Blaine,
I know this is probably the most rash thing I have ever done and I’m sorry if I upset you with the content of this letter I just...I don’t know what to do or how to help both of you without writing this.  I could lose everything for doing this - my job, my money, everything I’ve worked hard for in this life so please.  Please hear me out.

I know everything about you, Blaine.  I know it sounds creepy but it’s true.  When a client steps into Desiderate and signs that agreement you become fair game.  Everything there is to know about you and how to use that knowledge in fulfilling your encounter is used as “research”.  So I know you, Blaine.  I know how your parents rode you until you didn’t feel like a human anymore.  I know about Steven and how you left him at that bar after months of commitment because your father told you to do it.  I know every time you have gone to the grocery store in the past few months.  

Is it creepy?  Sure it is.  Does it make for better encounters and safety for our matches and our company?  You bet your ass.

I’m saying all this because I know you fell in love with him, Blaine.  I know it and you know it.  But he doesn’t know it, okay?  He doesn’t know he’s worth your love, Blaine.  

Kurt came to us because his father fell into a coma, Blaine.  He needed the work so badly because his step mother was struggling with the medical bills and he was referred to us and couldn’t say no.  Who says no to that kind of money when their parent is on the line?  He’s a good man, Blaine.  And he is worth so much more than this.

99% of our matches do this job because they love it, are good at it, and feel it’s an okay job to have.  Kurt is not that person.  He was trying to survive...and then you came along.

I’ve never seen him look like that, Blaine.  Ever.  He wanted everything he could have with you from the moment he read your file.  

But Blaine.  You need to know it’s against our rules to have a relationship - sexual or no - while a client is still attached to us.  Kurt knew this and he broke the rules.  He was fired, Blaine, which in of itself is a hardship for him...but he still owes on his contract.  The contract stipulates 12 months or 12 encounters.  As he was fired he cannot fulfill the 12 month portion and thus the remainder of his encounters must be filled.  For free.  That’s $100,000, Blaine.  $100,000 that he doesn’t have to give.

I’m not telling you this because I think you should rescue him or because of your money, Blaine.  I’m telling you this because I know you love him.  I know that he doesn’t think you could because of what he has been doing these 8 months.  And I also know that doing the last five encounters is going to break something inside of him that both you and I so deeply love and I can’t stand it, Blaine.

I just...I wanted you to know what happened.  You need to return your tracker, anyway.  Maybe...think about it, okay?  I’m sending this while on leave at my grandmother’s...I can’t be caught in this, Blaine.  I can’t.  I didn’t even type it so there will never be any record of it but what you are holding right now.

But please, Blaine.  Consider what I’ve told you.

Nikki

Blaine is holding the letter now for what feels like the millionth time, reading and rereading Nikki’s attempt to help her friend.  He is settled down into his couch, his cashmere throw wrapped around his legs (it had been banished for days after he had woken up alone; a silent reminder of passion that had seemingly slipped through his fingers) and a glass of wine beside him on a coaster. He feels like he will be waiting forever.

He had gone to see Clara the day after getting the letter.  He had been careful, asking to have his tracker removed, watching his file be shredded, before asking to see Miss Clara before leaving and quietly sliding a check over her desk.  Her eyes had widened and then narrowed as she took in the check’s note.

For the release of Kurt Hummel’s contract.

She had scowled at him and crossed her arms in front of her before icily muttering, “Good day, Mr. Anderson.  It was a pleasure doing business with you.  Come back if the mood strikes you.”

He knows he will never go back.

But he doesn’t know if Kurt has found out yet.  

Did he try to take another encounter?

Did that woman keep the money to herself?

Will Kurt come here again?

These questions and countless others swirl and spin through his mind.  They are his only focus and he needs to ground himself in the knowledge that maybe Kurt will never know and he will never see him again.

The thought is terrifying.

It isn’t about the money.  He has many times that in his bank account and that’s what money is for - spending.

He just wants Kurt back.  Wants his color and personality painting the room; his laughter and snarky wit filling the empty spaces around Blaine.

He wants to make meals in his big antiseptic kitchen with Kurt, making a mess and kissing their way through it, wants to work him open and claim him against the kitchen island while their food cooks in the oven.

He wants to listen to Kurt’s ideas about art blending with fashion and how he wants to design an art studio where both are made and sold...he wants to fund those designs and make Kurt known to the world.

He wants to fly to Ohio and meet Kurt’s family.  He wants to take the money he earns and give it to someone who knows how to help and make Kurt’s heart whole again.

He wants to woo Kurt and love him...but mostly he wants Kurt to know he is worthy of love.

He pulls the throw around him, wishing it still smelled like Kurt, and let his eyes close, his thoughts drifting with all the possibilities that could - or could not - be.

***

Three hours later Blaine is roused from sleep, his body bent awkwardly into the couch, his neck aching.  The letter is scrunched up underneath him.

Someone is knocking on his door at - he glances at his watch - 10:30pm.  I need to talk to the front desk about this, it’s getting insane, honestly-

He is shuffling to the door when he realizes that it could be Kurt.  It could be Kurt that’s behind the door and he’s all disheveled and his heart is pounding and...

It’s just Jules needing a place to crash...wasn’t she going out with that what’s his face from the 48th floor?  She probably had one too many Mai Tais.  Keep calm.

He wipes his palms against his black Henley and pulls open the door.

It’s always the eyes first.  His breath hitches as he feels every single emotion he’s been carrying around for nineteen days slide into his throat and threaten to overtake him, his eyes burning and his fingers shaking.  Kurt just looks at him - into him - and purses his lips before speaking.

“Could I come in, please?” he says, his voice strangely high.

Blaine finds his voice and takes a step back, bending slightly at the waist and sweeping his hand out.  “Uhh, y-yes.  I mean, yes, please do.”

He watches Kurt as he moves into his space yet again and all he wants is to gather him up, hold him close, and tell him everything he’s thought about since he had seen him last.  But Kurt’s back is dangerously straight, his arms crossed protectively across his chest and his eyes locked straight ahead.

So Blaine just follows, taking Kurt’s lead - like always - until they reach the living room.

“Would you like a drink or - ?” Blaine intones, reaching for Kurt’s coat as he sheds it and bends to sit in the wide easy chair that matches the couch.

The fact that he chooses the chair and not the couch is not lost on Blaine.  That he could sit with Kurt but not like this; not with so much tension drifting in and out and around them.  So he waits for his answer and when Kurt slowly shakes his head he sits on the corner of the couch, albeit the one closest to the chair, and faces Kurt, eyebrows drawn and arms open.

I have so many questions for you, Kurt.  Why.  Why do you look like this...

But before he can ask any Kurt speaks, his voice low but sure, his face frozen in a mask of cool disdain.

“I belong to no one.”

Blaine’s eyes widen and with those five words Blaine understands.  He knows that what Nikki said is true - that Kurt doesn’t know or doesn’t see that he is worth all of this and more.  He looks into Kurt’s eyes and finds nothing but determined strength, eyes that have had to hide what lies behind them a thousand times in this life and must battle to protect the heart that Blaine so desperately wants to love.  

Then his eyes sweep down and he catches it.  The one tiny thing that betrays Kurt’s carefully constructed facade.  

Kurt’s chin is gently quavering, his bottom lip shaking slightly.

Blaine exhales long and deep and his eyes fill with tears as he feels his body moving, his knees hitting the floor and he’s next to Kurt, eyes pleading for him to understand that this- this was never what Blaine wanted him to feel.  He doesn’t want to own anyone.  Hell, he doesn’t do the greatest job of owning himself, let alone another human being.

“Kurt?” he asks, his voice shaking slightly as he fights not to grab his hands and pull Kurt close, “Is that what you think?  That I wanted to...to own you or make you owe me something? Does that seem like-”

Blaine takes in a jagged breath, tears betraying him and slipping down his cheeks.

Damn Jules for making me open this...this cavalcade of emotions that just keep pushing themselves out and kaliedoscoping over every damned thing I touch...

He pushes himself on, unable to contain himself, “-like something I would do?  Did our nights together not show you who I am or, you know, begin to show you who I can be for you?  I - I told you when you came back that it was you I wanted but...but not like this.  Not to own or keep or make you owe me something forever.  I-”

And his voice is rising, his muscles tight and desperate as he watches Kurt’s face flush, his eyes fill and well over as he begins to rock back and forth, hugging himself fiercely, his breath hitching.

Blaine doesn’t know if its right and he doesn’t care as he lifts himself up and onto the chair, crowding Kurt’s body with his own and pulling him close, almost into his lap, as Kurt buries his face in Blaine’s neck and clings to him like he’s never cried before...like no one had been taking care of him and Blaine realizes with a jolt that no one has.  No one has.

No one has been taking care of either of them.

***

Minutes, hours, seconds pass as our tears dry and his mouth is on mine, speaking without words and it’s want and need and ‘it’s you, it’s only you’ and his fingers slide down my spine and in a moment there is nothing but skin against skin, his tongue stealing snatches of all that I am...every inhale is him and his touch, his fingers finding and fitting, opening, and then shouting our pleasure out into the silence as we are one again. His breath on my body seals us together; his mouth on mine marks us whole.  Smooth edges where once they were frayed; he slides against me and I am complete.