There isn’t much to take in the end – mostly clothing, some personal items, and the basic necessities. His new dorm room on campus will provide for him the furniture he’ll need – a desk and a chair and a dresser - even if it’s cheap and used and can hardly be considered proper furniture at all. He’s lucky if it even all matches. And it’s not like his bed would fit in a standard, cramped dorm anyway. Besides, he’s already slept more nights than he ever wanted in that bed without Kurt; he really doesn’t mind sleeping in a new bed, one that isn’t heavy with the memory of Kurt’s body and the long-faded scent of his hair and his skin.

And if he wants anything else to make his dorm feel less like an institution and more like a home, well he can buy those things in New York. He’s sure Kurt would love to take him shopping – to make a date of it. God how he’s missed their dates.

Blaine doesn’t know his new roommate; he only has a name (Sean) and university-provided contact information that he hasn’t used. But he doesn’t want to start out on the wrong foot with his roommate by completely taking over their shared space with his Wicked poster (his birthday present mailed by Kurt and signed by the cast) and two hundred-some photographs of Kurt and Cooper and his friends from McKinley, and even a few of the Warblers. Blaine boarded at Dalton – he remembers what it’s like to get used to a new person in a close space, where tensions can run high and tempers can grow hot at the slightest provocations.

Over the last two years he’s come leaps and bounds from the scared, broken boy who first walked through the grand doors of Dalton Academy with downcast eyes and fresh scars, and the betrayed young man who was kicked out of his home for daring to follow his heart. But still, he worries. How can he not? He knows it’s New York and things are different there than in small-town Ohio, but he doesn’t know his roommate. Not yet. He’s not going to hide who he is, he won’t, but he’s certainly not going to show up day one with his pride flag blazing and his boyfriend’s name tattooed across his heart.

(Kurt forbade any thoughts or ideas of tattoos the moment Blaine turned eighteen. Blaine’s not going to tell him that he has several sketches hidden away in a box for when Kurt finally relents.)

Cooper comes back into the bedroom from his latest trip carrying boxes of Blaine’s belongings down to the front door. The moving company is on the way and Cooper wants to be prepared for when they get there. He’d offered to drive Blaine’s things to New York for him, to make a road trip out of it, but Blaine refused.

“You have classes to prep for, Coop. And that’s way too long a drive just to deliver my stuff for me,” Blaine had said.

“It’s not about making a delivery, B,” Cooper said, and his arms already ached to know he wouldn’t be able to hold Blaine in them much longer. “And you know that.”

Blaine knows Cooper’s not ready to let him go, to divide their common life. Cooper’s been alternating between mania and depression the last couple of weeks, and the mood swings got wilder the closer it got to Blaine’s departure. Some days he’d be on Blaine’s heels, plastered to him every waking moment of the day. Other days he’d lock himself away in his own bedroom, making excuses about a class syllabus or preparation or other nonsense that Blaine could see right through.

Blaine gets it. He does. Cooper changed everything for him; he altered his whole life. For him. He moved back to Ohio after Blaine’s bashing to be closer to him, changed schools and everything, to be there for him however he could. And then he moved again when Blaine needed a new place to live. There’s nothing Blaine can ever do to repay that kind of sacrifice. He just hopes that Cooper knows, really understands, how grateful he is for everything that his brother has done for him, and continues to do for him.

If he’s honest with himself, he’s not really ready to go either. His desire, his overwhelming need to get back to Kurt wars with the ache in the stomach to stay, to stay home with Cooper where he’s safe and comfortable and secure. He thinks about it sometimes, rescinding his acceptance to The Tisch School of the Arts at New York University and finding work in Lima. Maybe at the Lima Bean – they like him there well enough and he’s pretty sure they’d let him set up a piano in the back corner and play on Friday nights for tips. It’s a ridiculous flight of fantasy that he’s embarrassed to even consider for a moment, but he does consider it, late at night when he can’t sleep for the worry and the fear and the anticipation that gnaws a hole in his stomach.

Those are the nights he misses Kurt the most, not that he doesn’t miss Kurt with every fiber of his being every moment of every day. But those nights, when his room is simultaneously too close and small, and altogether too big for just him, Blaine curls onto his side and imagines Kurt’s head on the pillow next to his. He imagines he can hear the steady thud of Kurt’s heart and the gentle huffs of his breath in the cold silence of the night.

“OK, you have everything packed up? You’re absolutely sure?” Cooper asks, looking around the room with his hands on his hips.

Despite the fact that all of his furniture is still there, Blaine’s bedroom feels horribly, achingly empty. The bed sits where it always has, with the same sheets and comforter that have always been there. They were some of the first things Cooper went out and bought when he took Blaine in. The bed in Blaine’s dorm is going to be much smaller than this one and will need new bedding. Cooper’s glad that Blaine will have something familiar to come home to when he visits. And the familiar blue sheets and plaid bedspread are comforting to Cooper too. He’s glad to be able to see them there whenever he walks past Blaine’s room, which he has to do to get to his own bedroom. It’s almost like he’ll be able to pretend that Blaine’s spending the night at Kurt’s. Almost.

“If you ask me that one more time I’m going to punch you in the face,” Blaine says.

“I’m just trying to be sure you’re not forgetting anything.” Cooper runs his hands through his hair, pushing it back off his forehead. It’s still early in the morning, but the week’s been a hot and humid one and Cooper can feel the sweat gathering.

“It’s not like you can drive home to get anything you’ve left behind.” If there’s more bite in his voice than he intended, well he can’t exactly be blamed.

Cooper had offered to put Blaine up in an apartment, but Blaine had insisted on living in the dorms with all the other freshmen.

“What kind of college experience would it be if I didn’t spend at least a year living in a drab, cramped room with three other guys I don’t know and probably won’t like?” Blaine had replied, with a cheeky grin.

“Besides, Kurt and Rachel are getting their own apartment together for the new year. I’m sure I’ll be spending most of my time over there anyway when I’m not in class,” Blaine shrugged a little too carelessly. “My roommate will love me for that.”

He’s taking with him, back to New York, the t-shirts that Kurt had sent him throughout the year. The ones that Kurt had worn for a few days and then mailed to him, tightly sealed so the fabric still smelled of his skin – his lotion and his cologne. Blaine wore them to bed every night until they no longer smelled of Kurt, only of himself, and Cooper forced him to wash them.

Blaine can’t wait to be close to Kurt again, in every sense, not just the physical. He’s missed their conversations and their silences - the soul deep connection of their lives. But his body aches for the touch of Kurt’s hands and his lips are dry without his kisses. He hurts to bury his nose in the curve of Kurt’s neck and the crease of his hip and inhale deeply the scent of him, to pull it back into his pores where it belongs.

He knew what a year apart meant, but he hadn’t known.

Despite his naive promises of we’ll see each other every weekend, Kurt only managed to come back to Ohio a few times throughout the last year. The Hummel-Hudsons were never a wealthy family, and two boys in college at the same time, even with scholarships, put a strain on their budget, and it just wasn’t in the cards for Kurt to fly home every weekend. And as much as he wanted to, as much as he wished he could, even Cooper couldn’t exactly afford to send Blaine out there whenever the ache for Kurt grew desperate.

And besides, both of them were in school. They had classes, homework, and exams, practices, rehearsals, and shows that required so much of their time and attention. Neither of them were going to sacrifice their education for a few frantic hours together.

Of course there were hours-long Skype sessions and phone calls, late into the night or early in the morning. There were text messages every day, even if sometimes those messages were only “good morning” and “good night” and “I love you.” There were letters and postcards, all which Blaine saved in his dresser drawer, and Kurt kept in a little wooden box of mementos that Blaine gave to him before their final prom together. Kurt wears the key to the box every day on a chain around his neck, tucked underneath his clothing so it stays warm against his skin.

Kurt came home for the first time since he’d left during Christmas break. Blaine had nearly vibrated right out his skin in anticipation of Kurt’s arrival for a full a week before. He’d coped by taking it upon himself to turn their home into a Christmas wonderland.

Cooper had let Blaine go to town decorating their house – a massive Christmas tree, lights around the windows and along the eaves; wreaths and boughs, holly and bright red bows everywhere. And of course a sprig of mistletoe pinned above Blaine’s bed. Cooper had shaken his head and laughed when Blaine come home with the mistletoe cradled lovingly in his hands.

“Take it to your room,” Cooper had said, pointing up the staircase, the railing of which was draped with Christmas boughs and twinkling lights. “Don’t think for one second I don’t know what the two of you are going to be doing just as soon as his plane lands. Just keep it to your room would you? For my sake.”

Blaine hadn’t even had the decency to blush. He’d only grinned so broadly that his eyes disappeared and he fairly ran up the stars, singing Baby It’s Cold Outside on the way.

When Kurt finally showed up at Cooper’s house, a few hours after his plane landed (clearly having stopped at his parents’ house first), Cooper had stayed in the kitchen while Blaine answered the door. He’d heard the thud of Kurt’s overnight bag hitting the floor and the unmistakable crash of two bodies hitting the wall.

It had taken a good twenty minutes before Kurt and Blaine untangled themselves and found their way to kitchen, hand-in-hand, walking so closely together that their shoulders bumped. Cooper was nearly blinded by the matching smiles on their faces.

“Hey, Coop,” Kurt had said. As soon as they’d stopped walking Blaine had slipped his arm around Kurt’s waist and pulled him as close as possible.

“Good to see you, Kurt.” Cooper had given him a hug, made a little awkward by Blaine’s refusal to move out of the way. “How’s New York treating you?”

Kurt had opened his mouth to answer, but Blaine then had started pushing him back out of the kitchen, leaving Kurt spluttering and tripping a little.

“We’ll talk later, Coop,” he’d said. “Kurt and I have quite a bit of catching up to do.” And then they were gone, and Cooper couldn’t help his laughter when he heard their footsteps running up the stairs and the slam of Blaine’s bedroom door as it closed behind them.

He didn’t see them again for quite a few hours.

Of course there were rough patches during the long year apart – vicious fights and petty arguments, about the time, the distance; the inevitable strain on their distance. And there were those two weeks when they didn’t speak a word to each other.

The only time Cooper had seen Blaine as depressed as he’d been during those weeks was right after he’d been kicked out of their parents’ house. He hardly spoke; didn’t sing a note. He wouldn’t eat unless Cooper sat him down at the kitchen counter and nearly force-fed him. He went to class and did his homework, but Cooper could see that he wasn’t there, not really. His skin was pale and waxy; his shoulders were slumped constantly. The light was gone from his eyes.

Cooper knew there was nothing he could do to ease Blaine’s pain. He could only be there for him until he and Kurt worked it out, whatever it was that had happened between them. He never did find out what that particular argument had been about. Despite everything they’ve been through together, as brothers, as a family, Cooper knows that there are some things even he isn’t privy to. Cooper understands that there are things that exist between Blaine and Kurt alone, and he’s ok with that.

“Hey Coop?”

Cooper turns from where he’s been staring blankly at Blaine’s bookshelf to find Blaine standing next to him. He’s got comfortable travel clothing on and in his hands his their grandfather’s pocket watch – the one that Cooper gave him before he left Ohio for school; the one he’s been wearing every day since.

“Don’t you dare give that back to me,” Cooper says, more harshly than he intended. If he even thinks about it, thinks about taking that watch back from Blaine, he’ll start crying and he may never stop.

“But,”

“I’m keeping your stupid pink bowtie and you’re keeping the watch. That’s final.”

Blaine swallows thickly, blinking back tears as he clips the chain on and tucks the watch deep into his pocket, where it belongs.

“I was going to bring my Coop-bear with me, but…” Blaine trails off, smiling sheepishly. The Build-a-Bear he’d made with Cooper all those years ago sits on top of his bookcase.

“Yes that’s not exactly the first impression you want to make with your new roommates, is it?”

“Not really.”

“It’s ok,” Cooper glances over at the bear and he thinks of one the one that sits on the shelf in his closet. “I’ll take good care of him.”

Blaine’s eye catches the clock and his breath sticks in his throat. “It’s – it’s time to get going,” he says. Cooper nods. Blaine takes one last look around his bedroom before turning and heading back down the stairs.

Cooper turns out the light as he follows Blaine, but he leaves the door open.

***

The drive to the airport is strangely quiet, and all at once too short and painfully long. The radio is on, but for once neither of them are singing along. But Blaine’s fingers tap restlessly against his knee and his shoulders are so tense Cooper’s own muscles ache.

The airport looms large in front of them as Cooper drives towards the departure terminals and the sight of it makes his stomach clench painfully. The only other building he has such a visceral reaction to is the hospital, though the reasons couldn’t be any more different.

He finds a spot right in front of Blaine’s terminal and pulls into it, putting the car in park. He sits for a moment, holding the steering wheel in a white-knuckled grip before unfastening his seatbelt and climbing out of the car.

Blaine’s got his messenger bag and a carry-on with him – a set of clothes in case his other belongings get delayed on their way to New York. Kurt is meeting him at JFK in New York when he lands and really, he needs nothing else.

And then Blaine is standing on the curb in front of the terminal, carry-on resting next to him. He opens his mouth to say something, but then closes it again.

“Well,” Cooper says, and any other words he might have wanted to say stick fast in his throat. He’s almost glad that he’s no longer allowed to go with Blaine all the way to the boarding gate. He’s not sure he’d be able to let Blaine go if he saw him standing at those doors, boarding pass in hand, about to turn his back and board a plane.

Blaine launches himself at Cooper, almost knocking his suitcase over, and wrapping his arms as tightly around his brother as he possibly can. He buries his face in Cooper’s shoulder and feels the tears, the ones he’s been holding back all day, spring hot and painful to his eyes. He lets them fall.

“Coop,” he chokes out, and his voice is thick and wet with emotion. His chest aches and his stomach is clenching. He can’t do this. He can’t go.

“I know.” Cooper clutches his baby brother to his chest maybe a little too tightly. Blaine probably can’t breathe and Cooper doesn’t care. He’s not going to be able to hold him again for months. Months. It’s been two years since he’s gone more than a couple of days without giving Blaine a hug, or resting his hand on his shoulder as reassurance to them both. He doesn’t know what he’s going to do. Blaine’s probably not going to be home again until Christmas; this is Cooper’s last hug until then and goddammit he’s going to make it a good one.

The fact that he’s crying in public outside of an airport hardly registers at all.

“I love you Blainers. So goddamn much. And I’m so proud of you it hurts.”

“Love you too, Coop.” Blaine finally pulls back and away. He’s a bit of a mess, face wet and blotchy, eyes red-rimmed, and lashes clumped with tears.

“Oh come here,” Cooper cups Blaine’s cheeks and wipes the still falling tears away. “You’re going to be crying the moment you see Kurt. Give yourself a break until then.”

Blaine hiccups and laughs, wiping his running nose on the back of his hand. It’s kind of disgusting, and he really doesn’t care.

“It’s not goodbye forever, is it?” Blaine asks, and Cooper nearly breaks down again. He swallows down the sob that threatens to burst from him. He remembers, remembers so clearly saying those words to Blaine all those years ago, when he was the one going off to the college, leaving a beloved brother behind.

“No,” Cooper says. “No it’s really not.”