Blaine waited expectantly for Kurts answer.  

"No, never mind.  Its stupid," Kurt waived a hand dismissively.  He forced a smile, "Besides, Ive kept you long enough."

Blaine shook his head, "Youre not keeping me from anything."

"But you came out of your house for a reason."

Blaine smiled and took one of Kurts hands in his.  He said gently, "Kurt, I came out because I looked out my window and saw you.  I wasnt going anywhere."

Kurts eyes traveled from where he was looking at their clasped hands to Blaines face.  Kurt saw that when Blaine smiled, the laugh lines around his amber eyes deepened.  God, it was sexy.  The laugh lines around Kurts eyes--the despair of every makeup artist for the last five years--were just...lines. He had resisted the repeated urging from his agent to get Botox.  He was an actor; he needed to be able to have facial expressions.  If Hollywood was obsessed with youth, Broadway would still keep him around for a long time.  

Blaine squeezed Kurts hand once and released it.  "Tell me," he prompted again.  

Kurt ran a hand through his hair, "Its just..." he found he couldnt look at Blaine while he said it, so he stared fixedly at a cluster of gerbera daisies in a nearby windowbox.  "Sometimes, the loneliness crushes you."  To his horror, the tears started again in earnest, and Kurt pressed his fingertips to his mouth, willing himself to pull it back together.

Blaine didnt say anything.  He just stood there and gave Kurt all the time he needed.  

When Kurt could talk again he continued, "Every day is like living in a fog.  People avoid you, except your close friends, and you get so sick of your own misery.  You get sick of the pitying looks, and you get sick of how you can tell that people are relieved that it wasnt their own spouse.  But then when youre alone, its not better, because youre used to a certain contact.  Yeah, I can still talk to Adam.  I do still talk to him.  But I cant touch him; he cant touch me.  And, I dont know.  I want... I want..."  Kurt couldnt make himself say it.  

Blaine put a hand on Kurts shoulder, "You want to be touched."

Kurt gave a small nod, "Just...held.  And I want someone to talk to me...about anything, as long as its not about my life.  Im so tired of my own life."

"Okay," smiled Blaine.  

"No, seriously," Kurt put up a hand, "I cant ask that of you.  Its not fair.  I cant put my stuff on you.  Besides, you probably have a boyfriend or a husband who would be, understandably, freaked out.  That wouldnt be right.  Please, forget I said anything."

Blaine shook his head, still smiling, "I dont have a boyfriend.  Im one hundred percent single."  He crinkled his nose a little, "Apparently I have appallingly bad taste in men.  It always ends in screaming and me throwing their clothes out on the street.  Metaphorically speaking, of course, because I am a gentleman."

Kurt chuckled a little at that, and then Blaine took Kurts hand again and began tugging him toward the brownstone.  "Come on," he said, "I know just the thing."