The chilled air is sharp against his skin. Kurt's fingers grow numb, as do the tips of his ears. He rubs his hands together, trying to create some warmth. It doesn't work. He begins to regret forgetting a jacket, but then he thinks about where his jacket is and who sits near it, and he remains seated.

How did it come to this?

Well, the entire confrontation was inevitable. From the beginning. There had to be questions questioned, statements stated, and emotions exposed.

But it wasn't supposed to hurt so much.

Kurt works through every idea, examining every perspective. He tries to come to a decision, to form a coherent thought, but his subconscious keeps arguing. 

Side A: Blaine should have said something.

Side B: But I wasn't listening.

Side A: But he should have told me it was important.

Side B: But I should have known he was hurt.

Side A: But he still should have said something, how was I supposed to know.

Side B: But I still should have cared to find out. He was alone.

Side A: So was I.

Side B: Not in the same way.

Side A: We're as alone as we want ourselves to be.

Side B: That's hardly fair.

Side A: Or is it? Maybe 

Kurt groans in frustration and buries his head back in his arms. He blocks out the warring thoughts and just focuses on the silence all around him. This story really has known every kind of silence hasn't it? The one that Blaine heard, and then returned. The one after a kiss and before a fight. The one painted by rapid exhales, running feet, and squeezed hands. The one in a flickering darkness and a hushed moment. The one that is comfortable and the one that is cold. Silences that need words or music or laughter but received nothing. Silences that enjoyed being broken and some that smothered every whisper. Every kind of damn silence.

And here in frigid streets Kurt sits, enjoying one while plotting to destroy another.

Then in a tremendously fleeting but undoubtedly inspiring epiphany, a thought blossoms.

Side C: Maybe we were both wrong. Maybe we should just forgive. Maybe we should just learn and move on. Maybe dwelling on the pain and hurt is belittling the joy we shared and might still share. Maybe.

So ridiculously simple and yet remarkably brilliant.

Kurt shivers and blows air into his hands. The afternoon sun is masked by darkening clouds and Kurt exhales, watching his breath, collecting his thoughts. He rises to his feet, rolling his shoulders back and taking another deep breath, feeling the freezing air inflate his lungs. Then he exhales, the simple action pathetically complicated. But he can still do it. The little wisps of frozen air still curl and then flutter away into the pale landscape. 

God, if this was a painting, it would be so horrifically dull. 

He takes a step, and then another. A careful, nervous, hesitant step forward.

And then another.

And then another.

Kurt doesn't realize he's running until the world blurs around him.

And it doesn't matter that his eyes are watering from the frigid breeze or that his frozen fingers ache numbly or that the frigid tear tracks on his cheeks sting sharply. He just runs, listening to the crunch of his rapid steps on the empty road. Kurt keeps running forward, blind to everything else except his destination.

Running forward, but actually backward.

Running back to flirty duets and warm cups of coffee. Back to random eruptions of song and red ink scratched onto a notebook page. Back to little speeches and momentous kisses. Back to a standing ovation and a roaring applause. Back to long glances and daring smoulders. Back to lonely tears and warm touches. Back to yellow and red roses and first times. Back to empty stages and tight hugs. Back to sparkling hazel eyes and wide smiles.

Running back to the start. 

The front door can't come soon enough, but when it does, Kurt rips it open and bursts inside, eyes wide and frantic, panting heavily.

Then there are impossibly warm arms holding him, rubbing warmth back into his shivering body. Kurt closes his eyes, relishing in the familiar feel of Blaine's against him before slowly raising his arms and wrapping them around him, squeezing him a little too tightly.

"How could you forget a jacket," Blaine scolds softly, his voice cracking. "You could've gotten sick."

"I'm fine, I'm here, I'm fine," Kurt breathes.

After a minute, Blaine pulls away, looking hesitantly at his feet. "I- I'm sorry, I shouldn't have-" he stammers. When he looks back up, Kurt's heart squeezes at his red rimmed and swollen eyes.

"You've been crying," Kurt whispers.

Blaine replies quietly, "So have you."

They stand awkwardly for a minute.

"Look, Blaine-"

"Wait, before you say anything. Can you please listen for a second? I've...um...  I've prepared something small. Please. Kurt."  

Kurt nods hesitantly, stepping behind Blaine, who slides into the piano bench. After a second, Kurt slips in beside him, but the distance between them is devastatingly tangible.

Blaine's voice is accompanied by clear piano notes as he sings. Words are soft and careful. But his voice is beautiful, despite its wavering and cracking. He sings as though treading on glass, like he, and everything he shared with Kurt, could shatter at any instant. And it could. A wavering voice grew in confidence and strength towards the end, and Kurt, with his arms wrapped defensively around himself, couldn't help but inch closer.

Falling a thousand feet per second, you still take me by surprise

I just know we can't be over, I can see it in your eyes

Making every kind of silence, takes a lot to realize

It's worse to finish than to start all over and never let it lie

And as long as I can feel you holding on

I won't fall, even if you said I was wrong

I'm not perfect, but I keep trying

'Cause that's what I said I would do from the start

I'm not alive if I'm lonely, so please don't leave

Was it something I said or just my personality?

Making every kind of silence, it takes a lot to realize

It's worse to finish than to start all over and never let it lie

And as long as I can feel you holding on

I won't fall, even if you said I wrong

I know that I'm not perfect, but I keep trying

'Cause that's what I said I would do from the start

I'm not alive if I'm lonely, so please don't leave

Was it something I said or just my personality?

When you're caught in a lie and you've got nothing to hide

When you've got nowhere to run and you've got nothing inside

It tears right through me, you thought that you knew me

You thought that you knew

I'm not perfect, but I keep trying

'Cause that's what I said I would do from the start

I'm not alive if I'm lonely, so please don't leave

Was it something I said or just my personality?

I'm not perfect, but I keep trying

'Cause that's what I said I would do from the start

I'm not alive if I'm lonely, so please don't leave

Was it something I said or just my, just myself

Just myself, myself, just myself

I'm not perfect, but I keep trying

The song ends and they both sit in soft silence. Blaine vaguely breathless and Kurt vaguely speechless. 

The air rattles in Kurt's throat as he exhales. Slowly, he unwraps his arms and slides onto the piano bench. Blaine struggles to keep his breaths steady and clasps his hands in his lap, trying to hide how they shook. But Kurt sees.

Lightly, Kurt turns Blaine's chin so that hazel eyes can look into his own. "Don't you remember?" Kurt whispers, "You're perfect to me."

Blaine chokes out a laugh, glancing up at the ceiling to keep the tears in. "Kurt," Blaine begins carefully, voice cracking. The name sounds so much more beautiful on his tongue, spoken reverently and softly. He looks back down at the keys intently, trying to compose himself and find the right words. The keys seem exceedingly white in the fading light of the room. So elegantly simple. They reflect the light above shyly, and he can see a thin layer of dust stretched upon them, disturbed by his playing fingers. He strokes a key gently, watching as the dust is rearranged. He clears his throat, "I'm sorry. I should have told you. I should have made you listen. But believe me, I trust you. I never meant to lie to you, or to hurt you. I just- I was just lost and alone and...and I was so, so stupid-"

"Wait, no. No, you're not stupid, Blaine. This isn't your fault. I should have listened. Hell, it was my job to listen to you. But I got so caught up with the new world around me that I forgot to look back." Kurt turns and grabs Blaine's hand gently, staring into his swimming hazel eyes. "You are so important to me Blaine. You are one of the most important things in my life. I would give up New York for you. You are my dream. Not some concrete city with shining lights and excellent clothing choices. It would be nothing if I didn't get to spend my dream with you."

"Really?" Blaine says in a small voice.

Kurt nods, "Really. And I'm so, so sorry that I made you doubt my love for you for even a second. I just don't want to lose you. I almost did. And while I sat there waiting in that awful hospital I just couldn't bear the thought and I- I can't do that again. I can't lose you."

"You're not going to lose me," Blaine chokes, a tear slipping down his cheek. 

Moving closer, Kurt brushes the tear away softly, "Hey, hey. Please don't cry. You'll make me cry, and you know what horrors that does for my complexion."

Blaine laughs. "I love you so much," he murmurs.

Kurt presses their foreheads together and whispers, "I love you too."

Carefully, Blaine tilts his head and captures Kurt's lips in a kiss. Kurt kisses him back eagerly, tasting Blaine's salty lips and losing himself in his touch. He pulls him in closer and gently runs his fingers through his dark curls. Blaine pulls away breathlessly, but Kurt only holds him tighter against his chest, rubbing his hands in small circles along his back, feeling Blaine's firm muscles beneath his thin t-shirt. Blaine buries his face into Kurt's shoulder, and they cling to each other for what seems like hours, perfectly okay with never letting go.

The night before Kurt has to fly back to New York, he holds Blaine tightly in his arms, caressing his face softly. Blaine doesn't want to fall asleep, just in order to be able to spend more time with Kurt. But the medication eventually pulls him under. Kurt cradles him as he falls asleep, kissing his curls gently. 

The rain strikes the window, like the gentle patter of pebbles and branches tap the pane impatiently.  But Kurt only focuses on Blaine's deep breathing. He watches Blaine sleep for a while, tracing his already memorized features. Finally, he lets the rumbling purr of the thunder lull him to sleep, cuddling closer to Blaine whenever the thunder decides to clap too loudly.

Blaine isn't able to go to the airport. He argues and protests but Kurt just gathers the struggling boy in his arms. They tell themselves not to cry, but their eyes sting. Kurt pulls Blaine in tighter, until Blaine is on the very tips of his toes, and Blaine, ignoring his aching ribs, burrows himself closer to Kurt. They stay like this, as long as they can, Blaine clinging to Kurt. When he finally has to pull away, he swallows. Clenching his jaw and looking up, trying not to cry. Kurt smiles and tilts Blaine's chin towards him and kisses him chastely on the lips, and then on the forehead. There are thousands of things that need to be said, but no words are uttered.

The first snow of the season lies delicately on the ground. It crunches underneath their feet as Blaine walks Kurt to the car, little drops of ice making the snow sparkle in the sunlight. The world is so bright; the sky a white blank page, the trembling branches of the trees standing proud and dark against it. Snow flutters down like little bits of cotton, flakes falling on them and melting in their hair.

Kurt eventually has to leave, pressing his face into the window to hold Blaine in his sight for as long as possible.  But he soon slips out of view and Kurt exhales, holding in his tears and focusing his attention back on his father.

Blaine stares at the empty road long after Kurt disappears, the snow falling gently around him.

Days turn into weeks. And weeks turn into months. Time melts together in the endless swirl of everything. Life goes on. Skype dates are attended and cancelled. Phone calls seep long into the night and others are cut short. Loneliness creeps in and yearning settles. The two emotions are always there. Naturally. They cannot be held at bay, nor can they be vanquished. They're there, but they're never allowed to take control.

Every night Kurt collapses onto his bed. Every night he closes his eyes for a fleeting second, because the days in New York are usually long and busy. Every night, no matter how exhausted, no matter what time, Kurt grabs his cell phone and texts a quick message before falling asleep.

And every night, miles away, Blaine curls into his blankets. Every night he feels his phone vibrate and most nights he reads the message. But, some nights, he just remains nestled in his pillows and only acknowledges the vibration with a smile. Because he already knows what the message says:

"I love you."