Interruptions
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Interruptions: Chapter 13


E - Words: 5,305 - Last Updated: Jun 10, 2012
Story: Complete - Chapters: 19/19 - Created: Feb 03, 2012 - Updated: Jun 10, 2012
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Author's Notes: This chapter begins two weeks after the end of chapter 12.
Friday, June 13, 2031 (Present: nearly two weeks later)

“Hurry, Sweetie! I have to get you all home in time for family dinner.”

It was nearing 4 o’clock and Blaine was rushing. Bertie had finally consented to sitting on the potty and for a while that’s all he had done—sit, which was a problem because they needed to go, but Bertie needed “to go” as well…Blaine and Tori just wished he would go already. Unfortunately, they were powerless in the battle against Bertie’s digestive system because the parenting handbook mandated giving Bertie as much time as he needed. Plus, when the alternating visits started, Bertie had regressed a bit in the potty training department, and Blaine, feeling guilty already, didn't want to cause any more disruptions or have to hear Kurt’s lamentations about how rushing Bertie would “give him a complex." He and Kurt’s limited conversations, if they could even be called that, over the last week had already turned to shit, they didn’t need to literally be about shit. Ironically enough, when Bertie finally went, it had indeed been of the secondary variety, which would have been a welcomed new development, if not for the fact that disposing of said development becomes an extra, more time consuming process when dealing with solids and not liquids. However, after spending what Blaine was sure was an inordinate amount of time attending to his son’s bowel movement, they were just about ready to go.

Blaine stood at the door, with Bertie snug on his hip, and the bag of pull-ups, sippy cups, and footie-pajamas all packed and clutched in his free hand, not so patiently waiting on his daughter to emerge from the bedroom.

“Seriously, Tor, if we miss this cab, we’ll miss the train,” Blaine gently reminded.

“Okay, Daddy! I’m just updating your calendar!” Tori called, finally rounding the corner and entering the foyer.

“And just what were you adding?”

“When we’ll visit you next. Don’t want you to forget.”

“I could never forget that, sweetie,” Blaine assured her as he turned to open the door. “Oh, do you mind grabbing that bag for Daddy?” He gestured to a small duffle bag off to the side.

“Sure—ooh, it’s heavy! What’s in it?” Tori asked, grabbing the bag with both hands.

“Nothing. Just a few things Daddy needs.”

“Are you going somewhere special, like us?”

Blaine gave a sad smile. “You could say that. Come on, the cab is waiting.”


~

Sitting on the train to Manhasset, Blaine took the opportunity to brush Tori’s curls into manageable pigtails. She sat smiling beside him, Bertie bouncing in her lap, making him giggle at her occasional tickle.

“Daddy, what’s Dalton?” Tori suddenly asked, as though she had plucked it haphazardly from a never-ending swirl of questions in her mind.

Blaine stilled the brush. “It’s a school I went to for a while. How do you…why do you ask?”

“I saw it on the calendar.” Tori answered, nonchalantly. Then, more cautiously, “I thought it was a hospital.”

Blaine chuckled. “What made you think it was a hospital?”

“Dollton hopitle!” Bertie blurted before giving into the giggles of a sudden onslaught of sisterly tickles.

“I heard Papa talking about it,” Tori explained, her eyes focused on Bertie.

Blaine resumed brushing. “Oh, yeah, well…it’s just a school I went to.”

“Did Papa go there too?” Her inquisitive air was back.

“For a little while. That’s actually where we met.”

“Oh! So that’s the place with the staircase?!”

“Yes. That’s the place with the staircase.” Blaine absently secured Tori’s final hair tie and pulled her and Bertie into the crook of his arm, his body secure in the moment but his mind twenty years in the past. When he had turned and first laid eyes on Kurt, he had imagined a future much like this—his two children at his side, traveling to see their Papa in the home they had made together. And even though it was ending, he was sure if given the chance, knowing the outcome, he’d do it all again.

Kurt was his fate, his story, and even though Kurt was forcing his hand to write a premature ending, Blaine’s desire to reopen the book would never be erased. For although it may end in heartbreak, it would be worth starting again from the beginning and for a moment, happily live, even if it could not be ever after.

~

The ride from the train station was short and Kurt was already waiting in the doorway when they pulled into the drive. Blaine gave a curt nod in response to Kurt’s stilted wave as he exited the vehicle and made to retrieve Bertie from his car seat.

“I’ve got our bags, Daddy,” Tori called before pushing the car door shut with her little hip and rushing to the front door, dropping the purple bags, and hugging her Papa. She usually waited and carried Bertie with her, which allowed Blaine to wave his goodbyes from the car, but this time she had apparently forgotten her brother in her rush to see Kurt. Blaine found this highly inconvenient but understandable – he wanted desperately to do the same—go to Kurt and take him in his arms—hopefully with practice, that part of him would learn to go without. However, it seemed today, while lucky, that part of him would have to hold back.

Blaine walked deliberately toward the doorway and Kurt, doing his best to keep his eyes on the ground or on Bertie, anywhere but Kurt’s stunning and demanding blue eyes. Reaching the doorway, Bertie practically leapt into Kurt’s arms, eliciting a chuckle from both Kurt and Blaine. Blaine playfully ruffled Bertie’s dirty blonde mane and offered Kurt a chaste smile. After a tight squeeze and kiss on the cheek, Kurt lowered Bertie and gave his Pampered bottom a loving pat and sent him toddling into the living room to find his sister.

“How’s he doing with the potty?” Kurt asked, his voice heavy with pretense.

Blaine tried to match Kurt’s falsely casual tone. “He does great, once you convince him to actually sit on it. Sometimes he’s a bit slow, but—“

“Be sure not to rush him!” Kurt interrupted.

“—I’m sure not to rush him,” Blaine continued over Kurt.

Kurt darted his eyes to the side and shifted his head in what he probably meant to be a nod. “Good.”

Kurt shuffled his feet and Blaine shifted his stance.

“Did they tell you we’re going to Ohio tomorrow? For the week?” Kurt continued. His tone made it obvious that this wasn’t really what he wanted to talk about but Blaine sensed it was closer than Bertie’s poop.

“Yes.”

“It’s Father’s Day weekend and well…Carole…” Kurt trailed off.

“I know.”

Kurt looked guiltily through his lashes. “You don’t mind?”

“I’ll miss you all, but I understand.” It was honest. Blaine hoped an offering of honesty would draw out the same from Kurt.

“You’ll miss us?” Kurt asked, confused shock flashing on his features.

The question stung. Blaine wanted to yell that he missed them every day, every minute, even in moments like these when they were so near. He wanted to explain how he felt he no longer shared the space Kurt, Tori, and Bertie called family, standing here on his own porch feeling like an outsider. He needed to say there was constantly and soon, he feared, would permanently be that crushing distance filling the fleeting moments they shared making him always aware of the impending and inevitable moment when they would retreat back into their shared space and leave him alone again, missing them, like he always did. But he settled for, “Of course.”

Kurt seemed to sense the emotional impact of his question, averted his eyes, and tried again. “Are you planning on visiting your father? Maybe the kids could see your parents?”

“No, Kurt, I’m not and—I can’t do this.” Blaine dropped his hands to his side, exhausted from the charade. Blaine was done with this chapter. He needed the next page, the epilogue, he would settle for a bit of foreshadowing so he could know what was next, or at least what to expect. “I can’t stand here in our doorway dancing around the issue, pretending everything is okay. Did you…did you get the…the…?”

Kurt’s arms crossed and his voice was surprisingly cold. “Yes. Blaine. I got them.”

Blaine ran a hand over his hair. Kurt squared his jaw. They stood in the descending silence while Blaine waited in vain for Kurt to tell him how their story would end. After a moment, Blaine prodded, “And?”

“And?!” Kurt reared back, indignant. “We’re together for nearly 20 years and you send divorce papers in the mail—in the mail, Blaine—after refusing to talk to me—“

“I didn’t refuse to talk to you,” Blaine cut in. “I wanted to talk but you never had anything to say!”

“Well, I certainly don’t have anything to say to you on our doorstep since you’ve made it pretty damn clear with your papers what you want!”

“It’s not wha—you know what? Fine, Kurt. You win. That’s what you wanted to hear, isn’t it? You win.” Blaine threw up his hands, turned to hide his welling tears, walked to his car, and drove away leaving Kurt silent and defeated on the threshold of what used to be their home.

As he backed out of the driveway, Blaine tortured his mind for an explanation of how they had reached this point: how Kurt could talk about potty training and a separated Father’s Day, but when Blaine tried to talk—really talk—to save them if he could, Kurt would turn and run, scared and angry. If even in the face of impending divorce, Kurt could not, would not express the desire to be with him, or at least the preference of staying with him and preserving the family--the life--they had built and try to see this story through to an ending they could both accept, Blaine wasn’t sure why he should keep trying.

Blaine was merely two blocks away when his tear-obscured vision forced him into what had become his customary parking spot. He killed the engine, dropped his head to the steering wheel, and closed the book on he and Kurt.

~

Kurt wasn’t sure how long he had stood in the doorway or how he had come to be standing in the kitchen, his body apparently preparing Friday Night Dinner without the assistance of his conscious mind, but the tug on his apron jerking him into reality convinced him that was indeed the case and that he wasn’t alone.

“Papa, whatsa matter?” It was Bertie, his plump face and round eyes staring up at him.

“I miss Daddy,” Kurt sniffed, too out of it to lie.

Bertie’s little face scrunched and he titled his head to the side. “He here.”

“I wish he was,” Kurt mused, turning back to the stove and attempting to commit his mind to the task at hand, when again, came the tug at his apron.

“It’s Friday,” Bertie declared as if this answered and solved everything.

“Yes…” Kurt trailed off, waiting, hoping Bertie would elaborate.

“So, Daddy here.” Bertie smiled as though he had presented an iron clad, logically infallible argument. Kurt sighed and returned the smile, unable to not find his son’s obvious confusion adorable. He carded his fingers through Bertie’s already thick locks and trying to keep his voice steady, whispered, “I want him to be.”

~

Kurt spent dinner absently nodding and uh-huh-ing while he stared at the empty seat across the table, the sickening reality that it would never again be filled by Blaine churning his empty stomach.

“Papa, you didn’t clean your plate,” Tori commented as she helped with the dishes.

“I know, but Papa isn’t very hungry.”

“Oh no! Do you feel sick?” Tori asked, concern distorting her soft features.

Kurt gave a weak smile. “Papa will be okay, Sweet Pea.”

“If you want, we can sleep in the big bed with you,” Tori offered, her brown eyes going big and bright. “That always makes Daddy feel better when he doesn’t feel good.”

“I would like that, Sweet Pea. I would like that a lot.”

~

After the dishes were done and bags were packed and repacked for the next day’s journey, the slumber party commenced. Tori was clad in her purple monogrammed pajamas, Kurt was wearing his matching blue silk pair, and Bertie was in his pastel green, cotton, footie-pajamas (also monogrammed), snuggled up in Kurt and Blaine’s bed. The festivities had started with a bowl of popcorn and The Little Mermaid—Tori was passionate about vintage Disney—but eventually Bertie lost his battle with sleep and the popcorn succumbed to Kurt’s restored appetite (Tori was right, this had made him feel better), and Tori slipped beneath the covers and into the crook of her Papa’s arm.

“Bertie is silly, Papa,” Tori announced. Bertie was sprawled across Kurt’s lap, his mouth lolled open in sleep, a clear line of slobber seeping onto the duvet.

Kurt giggled and gently scratched Tori’s scalp, loosening her pigtails. “Yes, he is pretty silly, isn’t he?”

“Bertie is a silly name,” Tori stated, as if it were just a common observation.

“Well, that’s just his nickname,” Kurt chuckled. “His name is Bert.”

Tori’s mouth opened in understanding. “Like Grandpa?”

“Like Grandpa.” Kurt looked down at her. “Do you remember Grandpa?”

Tori nodded. “I miss him,” she admitted, curling into her Papa.

Kurt pulled her in close to comfort them both. “Me too, Sweet Pea.”

“That was the worst day.”


***

Sunday, July 30, 2028 (Past: three years earlier)

Blaine had lost track of Kurt in the crowd of mourners that had descended upon the house. He had allowed himself to believe that Kurt was just somewhere with Finn or Carole or possibly tending to Tori. But the crowd around Carole had eventually thinned to reveal she and Tori tucked into the corner of the couch, their eyes empty and unseeing, pressed together so close it was unclear who was holding whom.

Blaine found Finn slumped over the kitchen counter, Rachel quietly crying and rubbing circles into his back, smiling and nodding at guests, accepting their condolences because Finn wasn’t able. Seeing them this way, Blaine was reminded that even though Rachel was demanding, ambitious, and certainly self-centered, she was also selfless, loving, and incredibly strong. It had been she that had whispered worriedly in his ear that someone should find Kurt. She couldn’t have known that the kitchen was already his third stop in his ongoing search for Kurt, but the resulting look on his face let her know that her question had finally forced him to acknowledge the panic building in his gut.

“I’m sure he’s fine…just…” Rachel tried, using her free hand to brush his shoulder. “He has to be around here somewhere.” He nodded but didn’t even try for a smile—Rachel knew him well enough to know it wouldn’t be real, and he knew she loved him enough to not need to be fooled.

Blaine knew in his heart where Kurt was. He had known the minute he looked up and his eyes hadn’t immediately found Kurt’s in the crowd, but denial and fear forced him to search Kurt’s old room and even Carole and Burt’s bedroom before he finally went made his way to the hallway and pulled down the attic stairs.

“Oh, Kurt,” Blaine gasped as Kurt’s prone form came into view. Panicked, Blaine hoisted himself up the rickety ladder and rushed, broken, to Kurt’s side.

Kurt was on the dusty, creaking floor, still in his suit and tie, laying by a chest of drawers, the top drawer open, filling the dusty room with the scent of magnolia, all silent but for his sobs. Blaine dropped to his knees behind Kurt’s trembling frame, placed one hand on Kurt’s hip, and let the other smooth his hair. “Kurt, Babe, it’s okay, you’re okay, I’m here.”

“He’s gone!” Kurt wailed. “She’s gone, they’re gone, all gone, all gone.” It was all he could say.

Despite his suit and the dust, Blaine lay down behind Kurt and pulled Kurt’s curved back to his chest, holding him. They cried together, for what was, for what was lost, for what would no longer be.

Minutes, hours, days later, it seemed, Kurt lay mostly silent in Blaine’s arms. Then, “Tori. Where’s Tori?” Suddenly, Kurt was frantic again, trying to get his grief-limp limbs to lift his body from the floor.

“Shh, shh,” Blaine whispered, gently squeezing Kurt. “She’s okay, she’s with Carole.”

“Carole!” Kurt’s struggling began anew. “I have to go to her. She needs me.”

“No, Kurt, baby, no, not like this,” Blaine breathed into Kurt’s ear. “She’ll be fine, we’ll be fine…you’ll be fine.”

“How?” Kurt’s voice broke as he collapsed back to the floor. “How…he al-always ma-made everything okay, Blaine. He made m-me know I was okay.”

“You are okay, Kurt.” Blaine tried, but Kurt was again inconsolable.

“I can’t go on without him, Blaine! He’s my dad! I’m his son! What am I supposed to do?”

“Make him proud,” Blaine declared, his voice stronger than he felt, his arms still firmly and lovingly around Kurt. “You’re a successful designer. You’re an amazing husband. You’re an incredible father. You make him proud, Kurt.”

“I’ll never be the father he was.” Kurt’s fear escaped through the cracks of grief hanging heavy above them in the dank air.

Blaine spoke to both their fears. “We can try. We have to try.”

Somehow the tension seeped from Kurt’s body and determination mingled with the sadness in his bones. He rolled in Blaine’s arms, his watery blue eyes meeting Blaine’s. When he finally spoke, his voice was soft but sure. “Can we have a little boy?”

Suddenly, Blaine was doing something he would have thought impossible of the moment—laughing. Kurt was still there, beneath the current layers of despair and loss—Kurt was still there. Kurt locked his arms around Blaine and the two lovers vibrated against each other in laughter and tears and somewhere in it all, Blaine managed two words: “Of course.”

***

Kurt’s eyes grew misty with memory as he held Tori close.

“I always thought that was the worst day,” Tori muttered into Kurt’s torso.

Kurt’s breath caught in his throat. “Is there…is there a worse day, Sweet Pea?”

She nodded. “The day Daddy left.”

***

Thursday, June 12, 2031 (Present: the previous night)

Another call with Kurt had proven fruitless (a meaningless inquiry into Bertie’s potty training progress), and Blaine had been unable to hide his poor mood. As a remedy, Tori, of course, had suggested Daddy-Daughter Cuddles. With Bertie drooling on his nearby, recently purchased, Ikea pullout, Tori climbed into bed and nuzzled against her Daddy. Usually, Tori would regale Blaine with her elementary school exploits or recount the tales of her newest favorite character from her newest favorite book, but on that night, Tori had questions.

“Daddy, where do you go when you leave us?” It wasn’t an accusation. It was a question asked with all the innocence of a child, but it hurt just the same.

“I’ve never left you. I’ll never leave you.” Blaine lifted her chin and lowered his so that their eyes met. “Daddy is here. Daddy is always here.”

She blinked. “Are you going to leave Papa?”

“I don’t want to,” Blaine gave.

“He doesn’t want you to go.” Tori dropped her head as though she had revealed a secret.

“Oh?” Blaine tried for playful. “And how do you know that?” He tapped her on the nose and gave her a smile to let her know this was okay.

“I can tell,” she confessed. “Papa used to be happy. And now he’s sad.” Tori paused, and looked into her Daddy’s eyes before resting her cheek against his chest. “You make him happy.”

Blaine slouched against the headboard. “He makes me happy too.” Blaine felt Tori’s intake of breath and tried to ready himself for what would come next.

“Do you miss us?” Her eyes were large, expectant, and fearful.

“Every day, Sweetie.” Blaine pulled her in as close as he could. “Every day.”

“What do you miss the most,” she paused, “about Papa?”

“Oh, Tori…I don’t know if I should…”

“Please, Daddy?” she implored.

Blaine closed his eyes, sighed, and let the truth trickle out. “I miss the way the corners of his mouth crinkle when he smiles and the happy pitch of his voice when he’s excited.” He couldn’t stop the corner of his own mouth from lifting at the memory. “I miss how the sound of his nightly skin sloughing routine distracts me from my reading. I miss how he always pretends to be upset when he interrupts our messy kitchen parties. I miss the way he would kiss us awake. I even miss fighting. I miss making up. But mostly, I miss hearing the words ‘I love you’ in his voice.” Blaine’s voice faltered. “I just…I miss us. I miss our family. I miss my husband.”

Tori’s eyes were downcast and Blaine took advantage of her courtesy and wiped his eyes.

“Daddy?”

“Yes, Love?”

“Will you tell me a story?”

“Of course.” Blaine shifted onto his side, resting Tori’s head on his outstretched arm. “What would you like to hear?”

“Tell me the story of how you and Papa met.”

~

“Oh, Sweet Pea, I’d love to, but it’s a long story and we have to be up early to catch our plane tomorrow,” Kurt explained.

“I know, Papa. But I want to hear it. Please? Then I’ll go to sleep, I promise,” Tori pleaded.

“You promise?” Kurt asked. She nodded vigorously, her loose pigtails flopping adorably. “Okay.” Kurt shifted the sleeping Bertie off his lap and into the space between he and Tori. They pulled the covers up just below their chins, and Kurt began. “Well…where to start? Hmm…okay, umm Sectionals were coming up and Papa’s glee club had some new competition. We were working on a number when a friend—Uncle Puck. You remember him don’t you Sweet Pea? He was in Uncle Finn’s wedding.”

“The one with the silly hair?”

Kurt laughed. “Yes, honey, The One With the Silly Hair. Well, he suggested I go spy on the other team.”

“Spying is wrong, Papa,” Tori explained with all the matter-of-factness her seven years afforded.

“Yes. Yes, it is,” Kurt agreed.

“But it was okay this time?”

“Yes. But just this time.”

~

“I was on my way to practice with the Warblers.”

“The Warblers were like rock stars, weren’t they, Daddy?” Tori interrupted in excitement.

“Yes, Sweetie,” Blaine chuckled, “they were. And I was on my way down our main staircase when I heard someone say ‘excuse me.’ So, I turned, and there he was—the most beautiful thing I’d ever seen.”

~

“He turned around, and there he was. I told him I was new—“

“You were a spy and a liar?” Tori looked as though her moral world were collapsing.

“It was just a little white lie, and I wouldn’t normally condone it, but it led to you,” he bopped her on the nose, “so I don’t feel too bad.”

Tori seemed to mull it over, then smiled, “Me either.”

“So, I told him I was new and he stretched out his hand and introduced himself—Blaine. I told him my name and asked him what all the commotion was about—there were a lot of people running about because of the—“

“The Warblers!” Tori finished.

“Yes, Sweet Pea. The Warblers. Well, they were about to perform and Daddy said he knew a shortcut. Then, all of a sudden, he just took my hand and he led me down this beautiful hallway.”

~

Blaine laughed. “It wasn’t a shortcut.”

~

“I knew it wasn’t a shortcut but I didn’t care. He was so handsome and kind and he was holding my hand.” Kurt paused and glanced down at Tori, continuing, almost in something like a reverent whisper. “It was the first time another boy had held my hand.”

~

“I led him to the Senior Commons and made sure he had a prime viewing spot.” Blaine allowed himself a laugh at the expense of his high school self. “Then, I sang what would eventually become our song – Teenage Dream.”

“Ooh, I love that song, Daddy!” Tori exclaimed.

“Me too.”

~

Kurt couldn’t help but smile as he reminisced. “It felt like he was singing to me.”

~

“I was singing to him…for him…I’ve always been singing for him.” Once he heard the words on his own lips, Blaine knew they were true.

“And then you fell in love,” Tori declared with a wistful sigh.

~

“Not right then,” Kurt laughed, “but soon after.”

“What does it feel like?”

~

“What does what feel like, Sweetie?” Blaine asked, seeking a bit more clarification from his precocious daughter.

“Falling in love.”

~

“That’s a big question for such a small girl,” Kurt teased.

“Please, Papa, I want to know.”

“Okay, okay, I’ll try to explain…but it’s complicated. How can I explain this so you’ll understand…?” Kurt paused and Tori allowed it, giving him room to think. “It’s like hearing your favorite song for the first time.”

~

“At first, it’s a strange and unfamiliar sound, but you think you might like it.” Blaine explained. “Then, you find yourself humming the tune, giving in to it. And before you know it, you’re singing out loud, predicting the next lyric and the music builds into the bridge and you’re completely swept up in it, belting and not caring who sees or hears, and when the chorus begins to fade, you already want to hear it again because you know you’d be content listening to this song for the rest of your life.”

~

Kurt sighed. “There’s nothing like it….the first time…”

~

“…the last time…” Blaine whispered.

~

“…the only time, I’ll ever fall in love.” One lone tear slid down Kurt’s cheek.

“Papa?”

“Yes, Tori?”

“Does it ever go away? The love?”

“No, Honey. It never does.” Kurt smiled at her through his tears. “It’s stuck in your heart forever.”

“Just like the song?”

“Just like the song.”


True to her word, within the next fifteen minutes, Tori had drifted into sleep, leaving Kurt awake and alone in the silence, listening to the song still playing in his heart. Without thinking, he grabbed his phone from the nightstand, and dialed.

*

It was chilly and Blaine was a bit stiff. He had been propped up on his makeshift bed of blankets for hours. The “bed” suffered from poor craftsmanship, but the moon didn’t offer much light, and he could either craft a bed in the dark or chance being seen shuffling about in the waning sunlight, and he couldn’t risk that. He shifted uncomfortably for the umpteenth time, silently cursing himself for not listening to Kurt’s suggestion to install a hammock or at least leave a cot in the tree house when they first built it. But, he sighed and tried again to get comfortable. While he hadn’t exactly enjoyed spending the past month and a half of Friday nights in a tree house in what used to be his back yard, this was the only way he could experience Friday Night Dinners and he couldn’t let that go. Not yet.

That night’s dinner had been particularly solemn, Blaine had observed, looking out of the small wooden window into the large bay windows of their kitchen; though, Kurt’s creation looked a lot more appetizing than the left over, wilted salad Blaine had dutifully forked out of his Tupperware. When his family retired to bed, Blaine had been surprised but happy to see them all pile into he and Kurt’s bed, much the same way he and Tori had the night before. But as much as he loved seeing them together, cuddled around their sleeping son, giggling and joking about who-knows-what, Blaine couldn’t help but feel the sting in his heart and his watering eyes. His family was a family…without him. The proof was there, visible, and painful.

Tori had joined Bertie in sleep and it looked as if Kurt was soon headed that way, so Blaine lay down on his lumpy pallet and tried to get some sleep.

This is real. Let’s run away and don’t ever look back.

Blaine’s phone was ringing. He sat bolt upright, his head swiveling wildly in the direction of the window, toward Kurt’s shadowed figure in the dark of their bedroom. Kurt wasn’t asleep. Kurt was perched on the edge of their bed. Kurt was on the phone. Blaine scrambled for his illuminated phone, his mouth falling open at the sight of Kurt’s name and smiling face shining from the screen. Blaine snapped his head toward the window, fixed his eyes on Kurt, and answered.

“He-hello?” Blaine stammered.

“Blaine? Hi…umm…I…I’m packing up for the trip tomorrow and Tori says she needs her favorite purple jacket. You know the one with the pink lining?”

“Of course.” Blaine knew the one. In fact, he had seen Kurt drape it over their luggage, which was seated at the foot of their bed, mere feet from where Kurt sat now.

“Well, I can’t find it anywhere, and I was wondering if maybe she left it at your place.”

What was going on? What was Kurt doing? Blaine didn’t know, but he sure wanted to find out. “It’s…possible.”

“Would…would you mind looking?” Kurt asked.

Kurt knew where that jacket was just as well as Blaine did, yet he was asking Blaine to look for it? There was more to this…maybe the more for which Blaine had been waiting. He allowed himself to hope. “No, I don’t mind. Here, let me go check.” Blaine sat perched on his knees in the tree house he and Kurt had built for their children and watched as Kurt gingerly crawled back into bed, tucked the covers around him, and cradled the phone to his ear.

“Umm…while you’re looking, I never asked if you were still going to the Dalton thing next weekend.”

“I was…thinking about it. Why?” There were so many questions swirling in Blaine’s mind, he was having trouble answering Kurt’s—Kurt who was laying in bed, on the phone with him, pretending to pack, and sending him on a fool’s errands.

“Well, I’m already going to be in town, so…I was thinking of stopping by for a bit. It’d be nice to see some of the guys.”

“Yeah, that would be nice.” What was Kurt’s angle here? “You should say ‘hi’ for me.”

“You really should think about going too, Blaine.” Blaine could tell Kurt was getting comfortable—his endearingly bossy tone was surfacing. “You’re the real Dalton boy.”

Blaine could see Kurt’s smile and he allowed himself one as well. “You’re as much of a Warbler as I am. Once a Warbler, always a Warbler.”

“That’s true, I suppose. Which is even more reason for you to go. Plus…” Kurt hesitated, “it’d be a reason to wear the blazer.”

“You always hated those blazers.” Blaine found himself laughing, but when he heard Kurt’s voice again, it was surprisingly serious, honest.

“No, Blaine. I loved the blazer.” Kurt inhaled. “I still do.”

If Kurt was saying what Blaine thought—hoped—he was saying, he needed to hear it. Really hear it. “Kurt…I…I’m not seeing Tori’s jacket…is there…something else you wanted to talk about?”

“Oh! Haha, I found it!” Kurt unconvincingly announced, still lying in bed. “Right under my nose the whole time!”

“Kurt? Please,” Blaine tried, “We should—we need to—about the papers—“

“Thanks for your help,” Kurt rushed. “Sorry to bother you so late. But, I’ll see you next weekend…maybe?” He sounded desperate, as though he needed that assurance for a peaceful night’s sleep.

“Yes. Maybe.”

“Oh, good.” Blaine could both see and hear Kurt’s sigh of relief. “Goodnight, Blaine.”

“Goodnight, Kurt.”

Blaine watched as Kurt took the illuminated phone slowly from his ear and into his line of sight, the light shining on Kurt’s face making it possible for Blaine to read the last three words on Kurt’s lips before he, too, fell into sleep: “I love you.”

Those words had brought Blaine back before, allowed them to begin anew, co-writing chapters and volumes of their love. Now, Blaine allowed those words to drift from his lips and into the wind, rustling the pages of their story, begging him to continue writing, to continue reading, because those words held the promise of an ending they could happily meet, together. For that promise—for Kurt—he would reopen the covers of his heart. For Blaine still believed that theirs could be a story worth reading, a story worth living, again, and again, and again, as long as they were willing to start over, at the beginning.


Comments

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Oh, this was beautiful. I have tears in my eyes. You are one of the few authors that can bring me to tears with your beautiful angst. Thank you for sharing.

I can't thank you enough for this wonderful detailed review, much less for taking the time to do it twice! Seriously, thank you. I'm so glad you used the phrase "glimmer of hope" because that's what I wanted this chapter to feel like and be. I hope I've given just enough slivers of Kurt's POV to make you still root for and believe in him, and I'm glad you felt a little of his pain :) Okay, you're going to have to give me a second to kicky feet, flail, and cry, because the tree house scene is my baby and my heart just tripled in size knowing that it had the desired effect. That was the first scene that came to me and I built the whole story around it. I've literally been waiting since December to write that scene and just...sigh...happy tears forever over your response. And Blaine seeing Kurt say those words was a moment for him...about them. He was moved as well, I think, and they're definitely back on the road toward each other. And yes, yes, yes, there will be more (three yesses for the remaining three chapters!). We'll see them start again...there's much to be written ;)

Well, S&C just ate my review somehow so I'm going to try this again. Ok, I got to here, "He killed the engine, dropped his head to the steering wheel, and closed the book on he and Kurt." and thought "I don't know how much more of this I can take." All the ache of the first 12 chapters just came rushing back. That scene on the door step was just painful. Every bit of it. Kurt's still being an ass. But then his confession at Friday night dinner that he misses Blaine and wants him there and then this, "Kurt's breath caught in his throat. "Is there...is there a worse day, Sweet Pea?" She nodded. "The day Daddy left." and I started to see a tiny glimmer of hope. It was so touching how you had Tori questioning both of her dads and the way you had them telling the Dalton story was brilliant. I think this is the first time in a long time that I felt Kurt's pain and that he maybe still loved Blaine, too. I don't think I've read a more heartbreaking scene than Blaine in the treehouse watching the Friday nite dinner. In rereading I realized he's been doing it for weeks and Bertie knows he's there. And this, "His family was a family...without him. The proof was there, visible, and painful." More brilliance. And some tears. Oh, and Blaine seeing Kurt say "I love you" by the light of the phone. So moving. I can see the beginning of their journey back to each other. And the last paragraph was just amazing. Legitimately sobbing now. I think this is the best chapter of a truly amazing story! Thank you so much for the update. p.s. There will be more, right? Because on rereading this, that last paragraph seems like it could almost be a conclusion. And I think I need to see them start their new beginning and be a family again.

Their stubborness is really annoying me!!! I just wish they would talk properly, even Bertie kneew Blaine was there, I wish he had told Kurt he is in the treehouse, not just daddy is here!! Arrgghhh so infuriating!!!!

Soon! I promise! Three more chapters left and then an epilogue. Bertie is barely two, HE'S DOING HIS BEEEEEEEST! Plus, as one of my new favorite commenters said: “Blaine now KNOWS that Kurt is just being an idiot and not a zero-f*ck-giver.” There is hope \\o/

:'( I love Tori so much it hurts.

MY CREEEEEYS "The day Daddy left" *sobs*

I'm literally DYING! I LOVE the angst! So freaking much! Sometimes I just re-read the arguments! I know im one of many people begging this but..PUULEASEE update soon! (tomorrow is good)

Please please please finish this story!! It is so amazing and so true to life. I love that it isn't all fluff & rainbows. Please update soon!!