wake-up-kid
June 10, 2012, 4:23 a.m.
Interruptions: Chapter 14
E - Words: 6,186 - Last Updated: Jun 10, 2012 Story: Complete - Chapters: 19/19 - Created: Feb 03, 2012 - Updated: Jun 10, 2012 148 0 0 0 0
Author's Notes: Friday, March 9, 2012
“He’s harmless, Kurt,” Blaine chuckled.
“Harmless, huh?” Kurt huffed, snatching Blaine’s phone from his hand.
“Kurt, is this really necessary?” Blaine was still smiling, fighting to keep his laughter to a minimum. He didn’t want to upset Kurt, but he couldn’t help finding this side of his boyfriend adorably amusing. Kurt was jealous. Blaine thought it was precious, especially because, to him, there was nothing at all to worry about, and watching Kurt work himself into a territorial tizzy made Blaine want to simultaneously dote on and ravish him. It was just so cute and intriguingly sexy.
“Hey, killer! Are you bringing all that sexy to the club tonight?” Kurt’s dramatic reading of Blaine’s most recent text from Sebastian pulled Blaine out of his fantasy and back to reality…a reality where Kurt was still very much angry and fully clothed (and still—always—adorable). “We didn’t get to dance nearly enough last time.” Kurt was really getting into it, pulling faces and glaring pointedly as if daring Blaine to continue to insist on Sebastian’s alleged harmlessness. Kurt looked up from the phone, eyes narrow and taunted, “Oh, and this is the best part!” Kurt was getting even more worked up, taking a dramatic pause before angrily enunciating every single word in the rest of Sebastian’s text. “I have some hot new dance moves I want you to see.” Kurt held the phone up, screen facing Blaine, and shook it, “He likes you! He wants you, Blaine! Are you going to deny it?” Kurt challenged.
“Of course not.” Blaine’s easy smile and relaxed tone caught Kurt off guard, his eyes going wide.
“Wha…?”
“Kurt, babe, please hand me the phone,” Blaine soothed, casually holding out his hand. Kurt lifted his arm up straight into the air, holding it out of Blaine’s reach.
“Uh uh. No.” Kurt turned his back, but Blaine just smiled, sidling up behind him, wrapping his arms around Kurt’s waist, and tucking his chin over Kurt’s shoulder.
Blaine caressed Kurt’s outstretched arm. “Kurt,” Blaine sang into Kurt’s ear, gently rocking him from side to side. “Please put the phone down, sweetie.”
“No, Blaine,” Kurt stiffened, even stomping his foot (Blaine had to bite his lip to keep from giggling), “Not until you admit Sebastian wants you!”
Blaine dropped his hand from Kurt’s arm, tightened his hold around Kurt’s middle, and hummed into his ear, “You’re right. He does.”
Kurt turned so fast in Blaine’s arms that Blaine stumbled and almost fell over. “Ah ha!” Kurt declared, throwing the phone onto his bed. “So you admit it!”
When Blaine regained his balance, he was still smiling. “Of course I admit it, Kurt.”
Kurt’s mouth fell open and his eyes widened as he stood frozen to the spot. Blaine fixed his eyes on Kurt and approached, carefully pacing every step until they were again face to face. Blaine placed his hands firmly on Kurt’s hips. “You’re correct about Sebastian, but you’re forgetting the most important thing.”
Kurt’s lips pursed and eyebrows arched in challenge.
Blaine let the smile slip from his lips as he set his jaw and pulled a stubbornly resistant Kurt to him until their foreheads touched. Then, with firm sincerity, four words traveled from Blaine’s mouth and ghosted across Kurt’s lips: “I. Only. Want. You.” Kurt seemed to shrink a few centimeters and Blaine could feel Kurt’s weight press into him. Blaine slid his hands up Kurt’s frame and cupped his face, connecting their eyes. “I love you, Kurt. Only, you.”
Kurt’s eyes were downcast, but his forehead moved up and down against Blaine’s and he sniffled. “I know you love me, but—“
“No ‘buts,’ Kurt,” Blaine interrupted. “You’re it for me. Sebastian may as well not exist for all he means to me. Yes, he’s a fellow Warbler, and since his reform we share an obligatory level of friendship that requires my kindness. But, this…” Blaine grabbed Kurt’s right hand and pressed Kurt’s palm hard to his own chest. “This. Do you feel that?”
Kurt and Blaine stood in silence, Kurt’s hand held firmly to Blaine’s chest. Kurt’s head slowly nodded in time with the steady rhythm of Blaine’s life thrumming below his warm skin.
“Every single one,” Blaine gently declared. “They’re all for you, Kurt.”
Kurt’s face softened and his glistening eyes held Blaine’s gaze. “Come here,” Blaine said, taking Kurt’s hand, leading him to the bed, and gesturing for him to sit. Kurt sat straight-backed at the foot of his bed with his arms crossed. Blaine plopped down beside him and began immediately stroking the small of Kurt’s back. “Now, I’m guessing you’re upset because you don’t like it when other guys hit on me.”
“Oh, you think?” Kurt sassed.
“And I empathize with that,” Blaine pressed on.
“So, is that why you laughed at me?” Kurt muttered, trying for indignant.
“Yes, because I think it’s adorable.” Blaine reached out and playfully squeezed Kurt’s knee. “I didn’t mean for it to upset you, it’s just I don’t get to see territorial Kurt very often and you’re cute when you’re feisty. It’s like you’re defending our couple-y honor.’” They both chuckled and Kurt finally uncrossed his arms and leaned into Blaine. “But babe,” Blaine continued softly, moving his hand up to lightly stroke the back of Kurt’s neck, “if you’re upset because you feel threatened or because you have any fear that my heart isn’t yours completely, then I’m hurt.”
Kurt’s expression held a question and confusion but he didn’t speak.
“I’m hurt that you would have so little faith in me…in us…” Blaine continued, his eyes moist. “…and it makes me think I haven’t done enough to make you believe my love. Because if you did, you’d know that I’m not going to leave you, especially not for a few pick up lines and text messages from the guy that nearly blinded me, no matter how many times he apologizes.”
It was Kurt’s turn to comfort and he took his cue, grabbing Blaine’s face and kissing him before looping his arms over Blaine’s shoulders in an embrace and whispering urgently, “I believe your love. I do.” Kurt pulled back to look in Blaine’s eyes before admitting, “It’s just…I don’t believe him. Why are we even still talking to him?”
“Because that’s what you do when someone apologizes and you agree to be friends.”
“I still don’t trust him.”
“Do you trust me?”
“Yes,” Kurt answered without hesitation.
“Then trust me when I tell you Sebastian is nothing to worry about. I’m not going anywhere.”
“Is that so?” Kurt smirked, relenting.
“Yep.” Blaine stole a quick kiss.
“Hmm, but I thought you were going to the club tonight with your BFF?” Kurt teased.
Blaine grabbed Kurt’s hips and rolled over onto his back, steadying Kurt astride his lap. “Only if you bring all that sexy with you.” Blaine gave a devilish grin as he squeezed Kurt’s bottom.
Kurt giggled and shook his head, “Blaine Anderson, these pick up lines, tsk tsk tsk.”
“See how terrible they are?” Blaine smiled and surged upward to kiss Kurt. “I’d simply ask,” kiss, “if you’d like to accompany me,” peck, “for a night on the town.”
“And I’d say yes,” smooch, “I’d love to.” With that, Kurt rolled off of Blaine and bounded off the bed with surprising speed.
Blaine sat up on his elbows, “Where are you going?”
“To get changed,” Kurt called as he ran to his closet. “If we’re going out, I need to make sure you’re not the only one getting hit on!”
Blaine propped himself up on his elbow, shook his head slightly, and laughed under his breath.
“Oh,” Kurt popped his head out of his walk in closet. “I’m gonna invite Rachel and Mercedes. They wanted to hang out tonight.”
“Sounds great! The more the merrier,” Blaine called back. Kurt slipped back into his closet and Blaine rummaged for his phone in the rumpled bed covers. Finding it, he shook his head at Sebastian’s text with a chuckle, and thumbed out a response: I’ll be there and I’ll be bringing all the sexy: Rachel, Mercedes, and of course, Kurt!
***
Kurt alone had always taken awhile to perfect his ensemble and be “runway ready.” His routine, combined with Blaine’s gelling regimen and Rachel and Mercedes’s primping needs all cramped in Kurt’s bathroom meant it took exponentially longer for them to be ready for their close ups. The dance floor at Scandals never really picked up until around 11, but even though they had fake IDs, they were still high school students and curfews were a very real thing. They were supposed to meet Sebastian at Scandals at 9:30, but didn’t even leave Kurt’s house until 9:40. Blaine was uncomfortable. He couldn’t stand being late, it was more than ungentlemanly—it was downright rude. But try as he might, his gentle suggestions to Rachel that her hair had been perfect 15 minutes ago and that they should’ve left 15 minutes before that had fallen on ears made deaf by the roar of a blow dryer. So, he had thumbed out a text to Sebastian under Kurt’s still watchful eye.
“Just letting him know we’re running late,” Blaine reassured.
***
Blaine 9:20pm
Hey Sebastian, we underestimated how long it would take for everyone to get ready, so we’re running a bit late. We’re sorry for the delay.
Sebastian slammed his phone down on the bar, and asked the bartender for another.
“Boyfriend running late?” the bartender asked, handing Sebastian his usual Heineken.
“You could say that.”
Sebastian got through another two beers by the time Blaine, Kurt, Rachel and Mercedes strolled in.
“Finally!” Sebastian huffed.
“Oh, which one is he?” the bartender asked, eyeing the new arrivals.
“The hot one with the gel and the bowtie.”
“He’s quite a cutie, and so is that lanky one with them. Should I make him a drink?”
“Just give him what I’m having.” Sebastian grabbed another Heineken from the bartender, strode toward the entering group and, ignoring Kurt, Rachel and Mercedes, handed the beer to Blaine. “So glad you could make it, killer. I got something for you.”
Blaine forced out a polite response, “Thanks, Sebastian.” Blaine could ignore the blatant flirting, but he didn’t like Sebastian’s open disregard for others, especially Kurt. “Sorry we’re late. We’re gonna head to the bar and then we’ll meet you on the dance floor.”
“Good, don’t keep me waiting too long.” Sebastian winked at Blaine before heading toward the neon lights of the dance floor.
“Wow, Kurt,” Mercedes said, her mouth a little open and her eyes watching Sebastian’s retreating back as they walked toward the bar. “You weren’t joking. He is still an ass.”
“And not just because he’s competition!” Rachel interjected.
“I thought he’d ‘reformed?’” Mercedes used air quotes for emphasis.
“Apparently that doesn’t extend to respecting other people and their relationships,” Kurt quipped.
Blaine sighed. “Yes, but he’s ultimately harmless. Let’s just ignore him, be as nice as we can, and have a good time, okay?”
“Easy for you to say,” Kurt said coolly, reaching the bar and hoisting himself expertly onto a stool.
Blaine placed his hand on Kurt’s lower back to sooth him. “Here, why don’t you have this?” Blaine offered Kurt the beer Sebastian had given him.
Kurt huffed. “No, thank you. He probably roofied it anyway.” Registering what he’d just said, Kurt snatched the beer from Blaine, holding it from the top with his thumb and forefinger as though it was diseased, and waved for the bartender. “Can you please take this? He’ll have a rum and Coke,” he said, gesturing to Blaine. “And they’ll have…” Kurt looked to Rachel and Mercedes.
“I’ll have a Cosmo!” Rachel squeaked, hopping in place.
“Cranberry and vodka, please,” Mercedes smiled, trying to display as little underage excitement over ordering her first drink at a bar as she could.
“And how about you, cutie?” The bartender asked Kurt.
“Oh, no, umm, I’ll just have a Shirley Temple please,” Kurt blushed. “I’m the DD tonight.”
The bartender clucked his tongue dramatically. “Such a shame. You’re probably even cuter on the dance floor, tipsy and shimmying.”
“Yes, he is.” Blaine interjected. “Would you mind bringing us our drinks please?”
The bartender looked from Kurt to Blaine, knitted his eyebrows together, shrugged, and turned to go make their drinks.
Kurt sat up straight on his stool and whispered, “Who’s jealous now?”
Blaine leaned in and gave Kurt a chaste kiss on the cheek before breathing in his ear, “I told you I empathize. I’m just defending our couple-y honor.”
When the drinks arrived, Blaine, Rachel and Mercedes eagerly partook.
“Are you sure you don’t want a drink? We could always take a cab home.” Blaine offered.
“No, I’m fine. Someone has to make sure you and Rachel don’t get sloppy and start making out.” Blaine dropped his head and giggled.
***
It was a good thing Kurt stayed sober because Rachel did, in fact, get sloppy. At least this time she targeted her misplaced drunken affections at an extremely uninterested Sebastian who kept batting her away and nudging her toward a dancing Mercedes and refocusing his attentions on Blaine who was nearly as gone as Rachel, but still vigorously shaking his hips in Kurt’s direction over by the bar. Kurt was resting his feet and grabbing waters for everyone. It had been hard work staying sober and keeping himself strategically between an increasingly drunk Blaine and an increasingly predatory (something he hadn’t thought possible) Sebastian.
Kurt leaned on the bar, miffed. If Kurt was honest with himself, he knew Blaine really only had eyes for him, Kurt, that night, getting clumsily handsy and nipping adorably at his neck on the dance floor. But he still didn’t trust Sebastian and had felt Sebastian glaring at him in the moments Blaine had been especially affectionate while they had danced, as though he was looking for an in and Kurt was an obstacle. At that moment, with Kurt a good distance away at the bar, it seemed Sebastian had found his opportunity. Kurt looked up just in time to see Sebastian’s hands find Blaine’s hips, turning a swaying Blaine toward him and leaning down, apparently whispering something in Blaine’s ear. Mercedes was too busy trying to steady Rachel on her feet to notice, but Kurt certainly saw and rage pushed him from the bar, waters forgotten, and he stormed onto the dance floor grabbing Blaine’s arm and yanking him away, but not before giving Sebastian a look that he hoped struck him dead where he stood.
“Kurt! There you are!” Blaine said comically loud, his eyes fluttering shut and head lolling onto Kurt’s shoulder. “Been lookin’ for you forever,” he slurred, nipping again at Kurt’s neck but missing, his head bobbing aimlessly instead. Blaine was stumbling, nearly dead weight, so Kurt grabbed one of Blaine’s exploring hands, looped Blaine’s arm over his shoulder and led Blaine’s drunken weight back to the bar. Kurt had just gotten Blaine onto a stool, most of his weight held up by the sticky bar, when screams and yelps erupted on the dance floor. Kurt turned to see all five of Rachel’s cosmos spraying from her mouth and onto the dance floor. “Watch him!” Kurt yelled to the bartender and took off toward Rachel, a space clearing around her as she covered the floor with putrid liquid.
“Mercedes, help me with her!” Kurt called as he grabbed Rachel from one side. He’d thought of asking Sebastian, but he seemed more interested in making sure his designer clothes were vomit free than helping people he clearly hadn’t wanted around in the first place. Mercedes hurried over, doing her best to avoid the pool Rachel had created, and draped Rachel’s other arm over her shoulder.
“What are we gonna do with her?” Mercedes called over the music.
“We need to get her to the car. This is clearly our cue to exit,” Kurt called, leading them toward the door, Rachel passed out between them, her chin on her chest and feet dragging behind her.
***
“Hey there, Blaine. Sit up.”
Blaine shook his head at the whispered command and gurgled in response. Every time he opened his eyes the room spun and his stomach swooped like it wanted to force its contents out of his mouth. So keeping his eyes and mouth shut seemed like the safest bet. Blaine felt firm arms wrap around him and lift him from the stool. Every movement made him queasy but the warm hands on his body started roaming down his waist to his backside and if Kurt was feeling him up, he definitely wanted to respond. “Mmm, Kurt,” Blaine moaned, turning his head blindly toward where he guessed Kurt’s neck would be. “You smell funny, Kurt,” Blaine slurred, trying to kiss Kurt’s neck but continuing his streak of missing wildly as his head bobbed forward and his chin collided with his chest.
The bartender had watched, slightly amused, as the taller boy lifted his boyfriend from the stool, clearly doing more touching and grabbing than was strictly necessary to lift him. The taller boy sat a wad of cash down on the bar, more than enough to cover the group’s tab.
“Hey, thanks!” the bartender called after the taller boy. “Your boyfriend’s a cutie! Take care of him and those bowties.”
***
It took Kurt and Mercedes nearly ten minutes to get Rachel squared away in Kurt’s Navigator. Kurt had refused to let her in the car until he was sure she was done vomiting, and after that, he and Mercedes had to get her to stop “performing” (off-key humming and wobbly twirling) long enough to subdue her and get her into the car. Finally, she was prone in the backseat, her head cradled in Mercedes’ lap as she hummed show tunes off-key.
“I’m gonna go get Blaine. I’ll be right back,” Kurt explained to Mercedes before shutting his back, side door and trotting back into Scandals. He tried to ignore the dirty looks from patrons and the employee on the dance floor still dealing with the emptied contents of Rachel’s stomach as he made his way back to the bar to retrieve Blaine. But as Kurt’s eyes scanned the bar, he and his heart came to a dead stop. Blaine was gone. Kurt ran to the bar, frantic. “Where is he?!” Kurt yelled at the bartender.
“Whoa, cutie, calm down. Where’s the fire?”
“The boy I asked you to watch! Where is he?” Kurt demanded.
The bartender looked around, his eyes fell on the stool Blaine previously occupied, and a light went on in his eyes. “Oh, the one with the bowtie?”
“Yes! Him!”
“His boyfriend came and got him. They were all over each other.” He laughed. “He also paid your tab, so no worries.”
Kurt was trying and failing to manage his anger and rising panic at the bartender’s words. He needed more information. “His boyfriend? What the hell are you talking about? What did he look like?”
“Tall, skinny, designer clothes…drank Heinekens all night.”
Realization hit Kurt like a punch to the gut and he almost doubled over with dread. He was suddenly finding it very hard to breathe. “Which way…” deep breath, “did they go?”
“Headed out the back, toward the bathrooms.” Kurt turned and ran. The bartender just shook his head and shrugged. Kids these days.
***
“Kurt where er we goin? Don’ feel good.”
“Shhhh, killer. I’m gonna take real good care of you.”
“Kurt…you don’ soun’ like Kurt…” Blaine murmured, cracking his eyes open as he fell into a door without warning. He felt it swing open and suddenly everything was bright white and blinding. He lost his footing but the Kurt-that-didn’t-sound-or-smell-like-Kurt caught him. He clung to the strong arms around him as he was shuffled backward until his knees hit something solid, forcing him down on his bottom. Thankfully, he seemed to have landed in a seated position on something cold and hard.
Blaine moaned. Kurt-that-didn’t-sound-or-smell-like-Kurt was mouthing at his neck. It felt nice, but this didn’t feel like Kurt either. Blaine’s mind was a whirlpool but through the blur and the spinning the non-Kurtness of everything was beginning to feel like a very solid and heavy anchor in his gut. He didn’t like it. Blaine forced his eyes open and after the room finally stilled the first thing his mind registered was blue. A wall of blue in front of him. Oh, a little speck of silver too. His head lolled, giving him a view to his side. Tile. White tile. Something in his mind slid into place—bathroom. He was in a bathroom.
A jolt of shock went through Blaine’s entire body. He was in a bathroom, sitting on a toilet, with a guy sucking on his neck and, if what he felt were knuckles just below his belly button, the guy was also undoing his pants. It didn’t matter that when he looked down he could only see a head of brown hair and a nondescript jaw mouthing at his neck—he knew this wasn’t Kurt. Even his liquor sodden brain knew Kurt would never do this, not in a dirty club bathroom. Not with Blaine about to vomit. Too much florescent light and not nearly enough romance.
Blaine’s limbs were heavy with drink, but powered by the mantra of “not Kurt” ringing in his head, he managed to lift his arms and push against the stranger’s shoulders. Having been crouched down, the stranger tumbled backward into the stall door, knocking it open.
With the man off of him, Blaine made to stand up. He was almost on his feet when he locked eyes with the rising stranger and recognition dawned on him: “S’bastian?!” Blaine swayed with shock, grabbing his head as his shoulder collided with the side stall wall.
Sebastian was back on his feet with dizzying speed. Blaine tried to balance on his own two feet and push past Sebastian and out of the stall, but Sebastian shoved Blaine back into the stall and Blaine fell backward into the toilet with a thud. Blaine cried out with the pain of it.
“Shhh, it didn’t hurt that much,” Sebastian spat, advancing on Blaine. “Plus, now that Miss Priss is gone, we get to play. Enjoy it.” Sebastian sneered. “I will.” Sebastian reached down and, ignoring Blaine’s slurred “nosstop,” grabbed at Blaine’s belt, tugging it loose and getting the top button of Blaine’s pants open before Blaine managed to regroup, swiping at and pushing against Sebastian’s chest and shoulders with little coordination or success.
Sebastian suddenly let go of Blaine’s pants and stood up straight. “No? Not interested in that game?” Sebastian teased, grabbing Blaine’s jaw and tilting Blaine’s head back so he could look into Blaine’s frightened and unfocused eyes. “We’ll just have to try something different won’t we?”
Still holding Blaine’s face, completely unfazed by Blaine’s protests and weak slaps at his arm, Sebastian started unbuckling his own belt. Blaine tried but couldn’t shake his head out of Sebastian’s grip.
**
Kurt nearly slid on the slick club floor, rounding the corner toward the bathroom at a run.
Over the music and the thud of his own heartbeat, Kurt thought he could hear the telltale sounds of struggle. Kurt was halfway down the dark and abandoned hallway when he heard Blaine’s voice, clear as day: “S’bastian! Nosstop!”
“Come on, open your mouth!”
Terrified of what he might find, but more frightened of what might happen if he was too late, Kurt threw open the door to the men’s bathroom and tried to keep down the bile rising in his throat as he attempted to digest the scene unfolding in front of him.
One of the blue stall doors was hanging open. Sebastian was standing in it, his back to Kurt. At this angle, Kurt could see Blaine slumped on the toilet, fear and confusion in his eyes, his jaw clasped in Sebastian’s grip, his lips in a tight line, and his head shaking.
Kurt lost the next seconds in a fog of rage and adrenaline. The next thing Kurt was aware of was somehow being in the stall with Blaine, Sebastian in the background, struggling to his feet and cradling his bleeding head where it had collided with and shattered what had been the dingy bathroom mirror.
Kurt bent down and gently cupped Blaine’s face where bruises were already forming. “Blaine, baby, look at me, are you all right?” Kurt’s eyes roamed over Blaine looking for any more bruises or obvious injuries. His eyes fell to Blaine’s lap where Blaine’s pants were still undone and he choked back a sob.
Blaine’s eyes fluttered open. “Kurt, you’re back,” Blaine seemed to smile as his eyes went glassy and unfocused again.
“You’re gonna be okay, sweetie,” Kurt whispered as he tried to steady his shaky hands so he could button Blaine’s pants and buckle his belt.
“He’s fucking fine!” Sebastian drunkenly yelled from behind Kurt, leaning against the sink for balance and checking his bleeding head in what was left of the mirror. “We were enjoying ourselves just fine before you sashayed in and interrupted.”
Kurt spun to face Sebastian. “What did you do to him, you son of a bitch?”
“Nothing he didn’t want,” Sebastian taunted, making a show of zipping his pants up.
“He’s barely coherent!” Kurt’s voice broke. “You sick, twisted fuck! Get out before I call the police!”
“Go ahead. They’ll just call my father. Ya’ know, the state attorney? And what with these injuries,” Sebastian made a show of the blood on his hand, clearly from his head wound, ”I’m pretty sure it’s you they’ll have in a cell by morning.” Emboldened, Sebastian advanced on Kurt. “Your little boyfriend too, after I tell them how you both ganged up on me in the bathroom. All a part of your revenge plot since you somehow got it in your head that I was responsible for Blaine’s recent eye injury and surgery.”
Kurt and Sebastian were face to face. Kurt standing in the doorway of the stall with Blaine behind him, still seated on the toilet, his head propped on the stall wall, eyes closed and so peaceful he could’ve been sleeping. Kurt, unafraid and unmoving, stared Sebastian right in the eyes and spoke with the cool conviction of a threat he had every intention of fulfilling: “My father is in Congress. He makes laws. If you ever come near us again, I swear I will not only end you, but also your father, your mother, and your entire lineage. I will ruin everything you are or could ever hope to be.”
Kurt did not blink or move and Sebastian relented, taking a few, slow backward steps before turning and leaving the bathroom. With Sebastian gone, Kurt turned and refocused his attention on Blaine. Kurt bent down, took both of Blaine’s arms over his shoulders and lifted, stumbling backward slightly. “Come on sweetie, I need you to walk a bit for me,” Kurt breathed into Blaine’s ear.
The jostling seemed to shake Blaine alert. Blaine stumbled a little, but managed to hold some of his own weight. Blaine took a deep breath, his face tucked into the crook of Kurt’s neck. “Yousmelllieyounow, Kurt.”
“Good. I’m here now,” Kurt tried to keep the tears out of his voice. “It’s okay.”
Kurt shifted Blaine’s weight and they began making their way, ever so slowly, out of the bathroom and to Kurt’s car. “Kurt?” Blaine whispered once they were in the darkened hallway.
“Yes, sweetie?”
“ ’m glad you here now…was scary widouchu.”
***
Wednesday, November 21, 2012
Him 2:47pm
I’m here.
Thursday, November 22, 2012
Him 8:19am
For you.
Him 5:32pm
I miss you.
Him 11:56pm
I love you.
Friday, November 23, 2012
Blaine 12:03am
I love you.
Him 12:05am
Can we meet?
Blaine 12:09am
Where?
Kurt 12:11am
At the beginning.
12:20am
Blaine was an impeccable driver. He believed in wearing his seatbelt, holding his hands at 10 and 2, checking all three mirrors before changing lanes, waiting 5 seconds at every stop sign, and, above all, he never exceeded the speed limit by more than 5 mph. So when Blaine took a sharp turn going 80 mph in a 50 mph zone, spun out, and somehow came to a smoking yet safe halt on the shoulder of the road, he decided he needed to take a moment to collect himself. If there was any time that he needed to “arrive alive” as the ad campaign he took very seriously cautioned, it was tonight. After basically a month of radio silence and his valiant attempts to come to terms with the idea that he and Kurt were over, Kurt’s text messages had simultaneously undone and remade his entire world. The only thing he knew for sure anymore was that he needed to be where Kurt was as soon as humanly possible. Sitting on the side of the road, his car facing oncoming traffic and the heat emanating from his tires white and wispy in the cold of the night, Blaine updated the list of things he knew for sure: 1) I love Kurt, 2) Kurt loves me, 3) I need to be where Kurt is, and 4) I need to be alive when I get there.
Blaine smoothed down the front of his winter coat, tightened his scarf, and pulled slowly and deliberately back onto the road toward his heart’s only destination: Kurt.
***
Kurt should have been cold. The surrounding grounds were still dusted with snow. Icicles were lengthening above him where he stood on the entry steps to the aging, yet still majestic building. Yet, Kurt was sweating—his anxiety and anticipation lighting a furnace in his middle such that he had to loosen his perfectly wrapped scarf to release some of the steam lest he cook in his own clothes. It was for the best really, since the doors had been locked and there was no chance of getting inside to warm up. Which sadly also meant he couldn’t get to the staircase, so the slowly icing one beneath his feet would have to do. Honestly, he should’ve thought of this little snag, seeing as he had attended the school himself and knew full well that curfew was at 11pm and strictly enforced—all lights out, all doors locked. But his combined desperation to see Blaine and inclination for romance had driven tiny details like time and temperature from his mind…a mind that went completely blank when a familiar Volkswagen station wagon parked near the entrance.
Blaine, somehow even more gorgeous than the pristine, dreamy image preserved in Kurt’s memory, walked up the Dalton entrance clad in his navy blue pea coat and dark wash jeans cuffed to reveal a rare socked ankle just visible above his dark gray saddle shoes. At the sight of Blaine’s tentative smile and five o’clock shadow, the finals of the Olympic floor exercise competition commenced in Kurt’s tummy.
It took all of Blaine’s composure not to run to Kurt and wrap him in his arms, if only to be sure he was real. But Blaine didn’t know what the rules were, so he instead walked until he reached the invisible barrier of betrayal, anger, and doubt built by a month of silence, and stood…waiting.
It was Kurt who spoke first. “Hi.”
“Hi.”
Kurt didn’t really know where to begin, so he started with the truth. “I’m glad you came.”
“I’m glad you wanted to see me,” Blaine confessed.
“I always want to see you.” Kurt trembled, a lone tear trickling down his cheek. “Only want to see you.”
“Oh, Kurt,” Blaine whispered, his own tears flowing now. And with that, the wall between them crumbled and they crashed into each other: fingers dug into backs, ran through hair, and cupped faces; tears mingled and dampened the other’s cheeks; and mouths uttered breathless apologies and declarations of love into ears between haphazard kisses.
“I missed you so much,” Blaine sighed into the corner of Kurt’s mouth, squeezing him even more tightly.
“I missed you too. So much, Blaine.” Kurt pulled back and cupped Blaine’s face. “I’m so so sorry, you have to believe me,” Kurt implored through his tears.
“I know. Me too,” Blaine replied, thumbing away Kurt’s tears. “It doesn’t matter. All that matters is that you’re here.”
“No,” Kurt gripped Blaine’s shoulders, shaking him slightly. “It does matter. I need you to know that Timmy and I—“
“Kurt,” Blaine interrupted, shaking his head, “I don’t care. Whatever you did with Timmy—“
“I didn’t do anything with Timmy,” Kurt rushed, talking over Blaine.
Blaine paused and his eyebrows knit together. “But…but I called and…”
Kurt’s eyes went wide. “You called?”
“Of course, I called,” Blaine whispered, slowly shaking his head at Kurt’s doubt. “You have to know I didn’t mean…would never mean I was done.”
“I know, I know.” Kurt leaned in and kissed Blaine.
“I called the very next morning and when Timmy answered and said you were in the shower, I thought…I thought…”
“Wha? No, oh my God no!”
“So…you didn’t?” Blaine blinked. “You weren’t together?”
Kurt cradled Blaine’s face in his palms, and spoke slowly and confidently as he gazed into Blaine’s eyes. “No.” A beat. “Never.” Kurt kissed a tear from Blaine’s cheek. “I haven’t seen him since that morning. I never even wanted him, Blaine.” Kurt shut his eyes and took a deep breath. “You asked why I kissed him.”
“Kurt, please, you don’t—“ Blaine tried.
“Shhh,” Kurt, eyes still closed, leaned his forehead against Blaine’s. “Let me. Please.”
Moments passed and Blaine did not protest. Kurt pressed on. “You asked me why I kissed him. I kissed him because I needed to kiss you. Because when you asked if I wanted to do this…us, anymore, I said it was difficult, but I didn’t mean being with you is difficult. I meant that being without you is difficult.” Kurt’s eyes surveyed the entirety of Blaine. “I want you all of the time. I need you all of the time. So much so, that when I’m away from you, I try to recreate you…I search the universe for pieces of you. Convincing myself I see you in the warm brown eyes of a stranger. Reaching out for the dark curls of a random man on the subway just so I can pretend I touched you that day. Going to musicals to hear even a cheap imitation of your voice and singing along because I miss our harmony. I’ve been kicked out of five Broadway shows since I moved to New York, three in the last month, Blaine!”
Blaine dropped his head and giggled. Kurt leaned his head to the side and smiled.
“You were right…he liked me, and I knew it. But I didn’t want to admit it…couldn’t admit it...especially not after Sebastian, because that would mean he and I couldn’t be friends…” Kurt dropped his head, ashamed.
“Was…were you afraid he was like Sebastian?”
“No. He would never…nothing like that.”
Blaine exhaled and Kurt continued. “But he didn’t respect our relationship. I knew that when I woke up after the party with his arm around me. But I—I needed a friend and he was the only person even interested in talking to me at all, and I thought I could handle it.”
“So did I…” Blaine muttered empathetically.
“So I…I tried to apologize after I yelled at him that morning. And he had your sense of humor, and he smiled at me the way you do.” Tears clouded Kurt’s voice. “He even rubbed in the facial scrub we bought in the same weird way you do.” Kurt looked to the sky and laughed through his tears, shaking his head and wiping his nose with his hand before continuing. “So many pieces of you…it almost felt like home. And then he sat down next to me, and I knew he was about to kiss me but I couldn’t think, couldn’t move, and then it was happening and I—I closed my eyes and made myself believe it was you, because I had to. I needed it to be you. I always need it to be you. I will always need it to be you.”
Blaine surged forward and gave Kurt exactly what he needed, what they both needed in that moment. It was messy and unpretty, with cold, running noses jammed against tearful cheeks, and uncoordinated tongues, clattering teeth and chapped lips. It was all of their complexity, ugly and crazy fused with the simplicity, beauty, and logic of them. It was Kurt and Blaine, Blaine and Kurt, together: perfect in their imperfection.
An hour later, snuggled in the backseat of Blaine’s station wagon, covered in a makeshift blanket of coats and scarves, the fog of their love making shielding them from view of the outside world, they traded most-pathetic-thing-you-did-when-you-thought-we-had-broken-up stories. It was Kurt’s turn. “There was a man wearing your cologne.” Kurt whispered into Blaine’s neck. “I followed him for five city blocks. I almost got arrested.”
“Oh, Kurt.” Blaine turned and placed a soothing kiss on Kurt’s forehead.
Kurt shifted until he was on top of Blaine, pressing his forearms to Blaine’s chest for balance. Looking down at Blaine, Kurt confessed, “Seriously, Blaine. I don’t know what I would’ve done if you hadn’t agreed to meet me.” Kurt tucked his fingers into Blaine’s love-mussed curls. “I can’t survive on pieces of you.”
Blaine grabbed Kurt’s wrist, slid Kurt’s fingers out of his hair down to his cheek, and turned and placed a kiss in Kurt’s palm. “You’ll never have to. You have me. All of me.”
They shared all of each other twice more before a flashlight, knock on the window, and a badge told them they had to leave.
“He’s harmless, Kurt,” Blaine chuckled.
“Harmless, huh?” Kurt huffed, snatching Blaine’s phone from his hand.
“Kurt, is this really necessary?” Blaine was still smiling, fighting to keep his laughter to a minimum. He didn’t want to upset Kurt, but he couldn’t help finding this side of his boyfriend adorably amusing. Kurt was jealous. Blaine thought it was precious, especially because, to him, there was nothing at all to worry about, and watching Kurt work himself into a territorial tizzy made Blaine want to simultaneously dote on and ravish him. It was just so cute and intriguingly sexy.
“Hey, killer! Are you bringing all that sexy to the club tonight?” Kurt’s dramatic reading of Blaine’s most recent text from Sebastian pulled Blaine out of his fantasy and back to reality…a reality where Kurt was still very much angry and fully clothed (and still—always—adorable). “We didn’t get to dance nearly enough last time.” Kurt was really getting into it, pulling faces and glaring pointedly as if daring Blaine to continue to insist on Sebastian’s alleged harmlessness. Kurt looked up from the phone, eyes narrow and taunted, “Oh, and this is the best part!” Kurt was getting even more worked up, taking a dramatic pause before angrily enunciating every single word in the rest of Sebastian’s text. “I have some hot new dance moves I want you to see.” Kurt held the phone up, screen facing Blaine, and shook it, “He likes you! He wants you, Blaine! Are you going to deny it?” Kurt challenged.
“Of course not.” Blaine’s easy smile and relaxed tone caught Kurt off guard, his eyes going wide.
“Wha…?”
“Kurt, babe, please hand me the phone,” Blaine soothed, casually holding out his hand. Kurt lifted his arm up straight into the air, holding it out of Blaine’s reach.
“Uh uh. No.” Kurt turned his back, but Blaine just smiled, sidling up behind him, wrapping his arms around Kurt’s waist, and tucking his chin over Kurt’s shoulder.
Blaine caressed Kurt’s outstretched arm. “Kurt,” Blaine sang into Kurt’s ear, gently rocking him from side to side. “Please put the phone down, sweetie.”
“No, Blaine,” Kurt stiffened, even stomping his foot (Blaine had to bite his lip to keep from giggling), “Not until you admit Sebastian wants you!”
Blaine dropped his hand from Kurt’s arm, tightened his hold around Kurt’s middle, and hummed into his ear, “You’re right. He does.”
Kurt turned so fast in Blaine’s arms that Blaine stumbled and almost fell over. “Ah ha!” Kurt declared, throwing the phone onto his bed. “So you admit it!”
When Blaine regained his balance, he was still smiling. “Of course I admit it, Kurt.”
Kurt’s mouth fell open and his eyes widened as he stood frozen to the spot. Blaine fixed his eyes on Kurt and approached, carefully pacing every step until they were again face to face. Blaine placed his hands firmly on Kurt’s hips. “You’re correct about Sebastian, but you’re forgetting the most important thing.”
Kurt’s lips pursed and eyebrows arched in challenge.
Blaine let the smile slip from his lips as he set his jaw and pulled a stubbornly resistant Kurt to him until their foreheads touched. Then, with firm sincerity, four words traveled from Blaine’s mouth and ghosted across Kurt’s lips: “I. Only. Want. You.” Kurt seemed to shrink a few centimeters and Blaine could feel Kurt’s weight press into him. Blaine slid his hands up Kurt’s frame and cupped his face, connecting their eyes. “I love you, Kurt. Only, you.”
Kurt’s eyes were downcast, but his forehead moved up and down against Blaine’s and he sniffled. “I know you love me, but—“
“No ‘buts,’ Kurt,” Blaine interrupted. “You’re it for me. Sebastian may as well not exist for all he means to me. Yes, he’s a fellow Warbler, and since his reform we share an obligatory level of friendship that requires my kindness. But, this…” Blaine grabbed Kurt’s right hand and pressed Kurt’s palm hard to his own chest. “This. Do you feel that?”
Kurt and Blaine stood in silence, Kurt’s hand held firmly to Blaine’s chest. Kurt’s head slowly nodded in time with the steady rhythm of Blaine’s life thrumming below his warm skin.
“Every single one,” Blaine gently declared. “They’re all for you, Kurt.”
Kurt’s face softened and his glistening eyes held Blaine’s gaze. “Come here,” Blaine said, taking Kurt’s hand, leading him to the bed, and gesturing for him to sit. Kurt sat straight-backed at the foot of his bed with his arms crossed. Blaine plopped down beside him and began immediately stroking the small of Kurt’s back. “Now, I’m guessing you’re upset because you don’t like it when other guys hit on me.”
“Oh, you think?” Kurt sassed.
“And I empathize with that,” Blaine pressed on.
“So, is that why you laughed at me?” Kurt muttered, trying for indignant.
“Yes, because I think it’s adorable.” Blaine reached out and playfully squeezed Kurt’s knee. “I didn’t mean for it to upset you, it’s just I don’t get to see territorial Kurt very often and you’re cute when you’re feisty. It’s like you’re defending our couple-y honor.’” They both chuckled and Kurt finally uncrossed his arms and leaned into Blaine. “But babe,” Blaine continued softly, moving his hand up to lightly stroke the back of Kurt’s neck, “if you’re upset because you feel threatened or because you have any fear that my heart isn’t yours completely, then I’m hurt.”
Kurt’s expression held a question and confusion but he didn’t speak.
“I’m hurt that you would have so little faith in me…in us…” Blaine continued, his eyes moist. “…and it makes me think I haven’t done enough to make you believe my love. Because if you did, you’d know that I’m not going to leave you, especially not for a few pick up lines and text messages from the guy that nearly blinded me, no matter how many times he apologizes.”
It was Kurt’s turn to comfort and he took his cue, grabbing Blaine’s face and kissing him before looping his arms over Blaine’s shoulders in an embrace and whispering urgently, “I believe your love. I do.” Kurt pulled back to look in Blaine’s eyes before admitting, “It’s just…I don’t believe him. Why are we even still talking to him?”
“Because that’s what you do when someone apologizes and you agree to be friends.”
“I still don’t trust him.”
“Do you trust me?”
“Yes,” Kurt answered without hesitation.
“Then trust me when I tell you Sebastian is nothing to worry about. I’m not going anywhere.”
“Is that so?” Kurt smirked, relenting.
“Yep.” Blaine stole a quick kiss.
“Hmm, but I thought you were going to the club tonight with your BFF?” Kurt teased.
Blaine grabbed Kurt’s hips and rolled over onto his back, steadying Kurt astride his lap. “Only if you bring all that sexy with you.” Blaine gave a devilish grin as he squeezed Kurt’s bottom.
Kurt giggled and shook his head, “Blaine Anderson, these pick up lines, tsk tsk tsk.”
“See how terrible they are?” Blaine smiled and surged upward to kiss Kurt. “I’d simply ask,” kiss, “if you’d like to accompany me,” peck, “for a night on the town.”
“And I’d say yes,” smooch, “I’d love to.” With that, Kurt rolled off of Blaine and bounded off the bed with surprising speed.
Blaine sat up on his elbows, “Where are you going?”
“To get changed,” Kurt called as he ran to his closet. “If we’re going out, I need to make sure you’re not the only one getting hit on!”
Blaine propped himself up on his elbow, shook his head slightly, and laughed under his breath.
“Oh,” Kurt popped his head out of his walk in closet. “I’m gonna invite Rachel and Mercedes. They wanted to hang out tonight.”
“Sounds great! The more the merrier,” Blaine called back. Kurt slipped back into his closet and Blaine rummaged for his phone in the rumpled bed covers. Finding it, he shook his head at Sebastian’s text with a chuckle, and thumbed out a response: I’ll be there and I’ll be bringing all the sexy: Rachel, Mercedes, and of course, Kurt!
***
Kurt alone had always taken awhile to perfect his ensemble and be “runway ready.” His routine, combined with Blaine’s gelling regimen and Rachel and Mercedes’s primping needs all cramped in Kurt’s bathroom meant it took exponentially longer for them to be ready for their close ups. The dance floor at Scandals never really picked up until around 11, but even though they had fake IDs, they were still high school students and curfews were a very real thing. They were supposed to meet Sebastian at Scandals at 9:30, but didn’t even leave Kurt’s house until 9:40. Blaine was uncomfortable. He couldn’t stand being late, it was more than ungentlemanly—it was downright rude. But try as he might, his gentle suggestions to Rachel that her hair had been perfect 15 minutes ago and that they should’ve left 15 minutes before that had fallen on ears made deaf by the roar of a blow dryer. So, he had thumbed out a text to Sebastian under Kurt’s still watchful eye.
“Just letting him know we’re running late,” Blaine reassured.
***
Blaine 9:20pm
Hey Sebastian, we underestimated how long it would take for everyone to get ready, so we’re running a bit late. We’re sorry for the delay.
Sebastian slammed his phone down on the bar, and asked the bartender for another.
“Boyfriend running late?” the bartender asked, handing Sebastian his usual Heineken.
“You could say that.”
Sebastian got through another two beers by the time Blaine, Kurt, Rachel and Mercedes strolled in.
“Finally!” Sebastian huffed.
“Oh, which one is he?” the bartender asked, eyeing the new arrivals.
“The hot one with the gel and the bowtie.”
“He’s quite a cutie, and so is that lanky one with them. Should I make him a drink?”
“Just give him what I’m having.” Sebastian grabbed another Heineken from the bartender, strode toward the entering group and, ignoring Kurt, Rachel and Mercedes, handed the beer to Blaine. “So glad you could make it, killer. I got something for you.”
Blaine forced out a polite response, “Thanks, Sebastian.” Blaine could ignore the blatant flirting, but he didn’t like Sebastian’s open disregard for others, especially Kurt. “Sorry we’re late. We’re gonna head to the bar and then we’ll meet you on the dance floor.”
“Good, don’t keep me waiting too long.” Sebastian winked at Blaine before heading toward the neon lights of the dance floor.
“Wow, Kurt,” Mercedes said, her mouth a little open and her eyes watching Sebastian’s retreating back as they walked toward the bar. “You weren’t joking. He is still an ass.”
“And not just because he’s competition!” Rachel interjected.
“I thought he’d ‘reformed?’” Mercedes used air quotes for emphasis.
“Apparently that doesn’t extend to respecting other people and their relationships,” Kurt quipped.
Blaine sighed. “Yes, but he’s ultimately harmless. Let’s just ignore him, be as nice as we can, and have a good time, okay?”
“Easy for you to say,” Kurt said coolly, reaching the bar and hoisting himself expertly onto a stool.
Blaine placed his hand on Kurt’s lower back to sooth him. “Here, why don’t you have this?” Blaine offered Kurt the beer Sebastian had given him.
Kurt huffed. “No, thank you. He probably roofied it anyway.” Registering what he’d just said, Kurt snatched the beer from Blaine, holding it from the top with his thumb and forefinger as though it was diseased, and waved for the bartender. “Can you please take this? He’ll have a rum and Coke,” he said, gesturing to Blaine. “And they’ll have…” Kurt looked to Rachel and Mercedes.
“I’ll have a Cosmo!” Rachel squeaked, hopping in place.
“Cranberry and vodka, please,” Mercedes smiled, trying to display as little underage excitement over ordering her first drink at a bar as she could.
“And how about you, cutie?” The bartender asked Kurt.
“Oh, no, umm, I’ll just have a Shirley Temple please,” Kurt blushed. “I’m the DD tonight.”
The bartender clucked his tongue dramatically. “Such a shame. You’re probably even cuter on the dance floor, tipsy and shimmying.”
“Yes, he is.” Blaine interjected. “Would you mind bringing us our drinks please?”
The bartender looked from Kurt to Blaine, knitted his eyebrows together, shrugged, and turned to go make their drinks.
Kurt sat up straight on his stool and whispered, “Who’s jealous now?”
Blaine leaned in and gave Kurt a chaste kiss on the cheek before breathing in his ear, “I told you I empathize. I’m just defending our couple-y honor.”
When the drinks arrived, Blaine, Rachel and Mercedes eagerly partook.
“Are you sure you don’t want a drink? We could always take a cab home.” Blaine offered.
“No, I’m fine. Someone has to make sure you and Rachel don’t get sloppy and start making out.” Blaine dropped his head and giggled.
***
It was a good thing Kurt stayed sober because Rachel did, in fact, get sloppy. At least this time she targeted her misplaced drunken affections at an extremely uninterested Sebastian who kept batting her away and nudging her toward a dancing Mercedes and refocusing his attentions on Blaine who was nearly as gone as Rachel, but still vigorously shaking his hips in Kurt’s direction over by the bar. Kurt was resting his feet and grabbing waters for everyone. It had been hard work staying sober and keeping himself strategically between an increasingly drunk Blaine and an increasingly predatory (something he hadn’t thought possible) Sebastian.
Kurt leaned on the bar, miffed. If Kurt was honest with himself, he knew Blaine really only had eyes for him, Kurt, that night, getting clumsily handsy and nipping adorably at his neck on the dance floor. But he still didn’t trust Sebastian and had felt Sebastian glaring at him in the moments Blaine had been especially affectionate while they had danced, as though he was looking for an in and Kurt was an obstacle. At that moment, with Kurt a good distance away at the bar, it seemed Sebastian had found his opportunity. Kurt looked up just in time to see Sebastian’s hands find Blaine’s hips, turning a swaying Blaine toward him and leaning down, apparently whispering something in Blaine’s ear. Mercedes was too busy trying to steady Rachel on her feet to notice, but Kurt certainly saw and rage pushed him from the bar, waters forgotten, and he stormed onto the dance floor grabbing Blaine’s arm and yanking him away, but not before giving Sebastian a look that he hoped struck him dead where he stood.
“Kurt! There you are!” Blaine said comically loud, his eyes fluttering shut and head lolling onto Kurt’s shoulder. “Been lookin’ for you forever,” he slurred, nipping again at Kurt’s neck but missing, his head bobbing aimlessly instead. Blaine was stumbling, nearly dead weight, so Kurt grabbed one of Blaine’s exploring hands, looped Blaine’s arm over his shoulder and led Blaine’s drunken weight back to the bar. Kurt had just gotten Blaine onto a stool, most of his weight held up by the sticky bar, when screams and yelps erupted on the dance floor. Kurt turned to see all five of Rachel’s cosmos spraying from her mouth and onto the dance floor. “Watch him!” Kurt yelled to the bartender and took off toward Rachel, a space clearing around her as she covered the floor with putrid liquid.
“Mercedes, help me with her!” Kurt called as he grabbed Rachel from one side. He’d thought of asking Sebastian, but he seemed more interested in making sure his designer clothes were vomit free than helping people he clearly hadn’t wanted around in the first place. Mercedes hurried over, doing her best to avoid the pool Rachel had created, and draped Rachel’s other arm over her shoulder.
“What are we gonna do with her?” Mercedes called over the music.
“We need to get her to the car. This is clearly our cue to exit,” Kurt called, leading them toward the door, Rachel passed out between them, her chin on her chest and feet dragging behind her.
***
“Hey there, Blaine. Sit up.”
Blaine shook his head at the whispered command and gurgled in response. Every time he opened his eyes the room spun and his stomach swooped like it wanted to force its contents out of his mouth. So keeping his eyes and mouth shut seemed like the safest bet. Blaine felt firm arms wrap around him and lift him from the stool. Every movement made him queasy but the warm hands on his body started roaming down his waist to his backside and if Kurt was feeling him up, he definitely wanted to respond. “Mmm, Kurt,” Blaine moaned, turning his head blindly toward where he guessed Kurt’s neck would be. “You smell funny, Kurt,” Blaine slurred, trying to kiss Kurt’s neck but continuing his streak of missing wildly as his head bobbed forward and his chin collided with his chest.
The bartender had watched, slightly amused, as the taller boy lifted his boyfriend from the stool, clearly doing more touching and grabbing than was strictly necessary to lift him. The taller boy sat a wad of cash down on the bar, more than enough to cover the group’s tab.
“Hey, thanks!” the bartender called after the taller boy. “Your boyfriend’s a cutie! Take care of him and those bowties.”
***
It took Kurt and Mercedes nearly ten minutes to get Rachel squared away in Kurt’s Navigator. Kurt had refused to let her in the car until he was sure she was done vomiting, and after that, he and Mercedes had to get her to stop “performing” (off-key humming and wobbly twirling) long enough to subdue her and get her into the car. Finally, she was prone in the backseat, her head cradled in Mercedes’ lap as she hummed show tunes off-key.
“I’m gonna go get Blaine. I’ll be right back,” Kurt explained to Mercedes before shutting his back, side door and trotting back into Scandals. He tried to ignore the dirty looks from patrons and the employee on the dance floor still dealing with the emptied contents of Rachel’s stomach as he made his way back to the bar to retrieve Blaine. But as Kurt’s eyes scanned the bar, he and his heart came to a dead stop. Blaine was gone. Kurt ran to the bar, frantic. “Where is he?!” Kurt yelled at the bartender.
“Whoa, cutie, calm down. Where’s the fire?”
“The boy I asked you to watch! Where is he?” Kurt demanded.
The bartender looked around, his eyes fell on the stool Blaine previously occupied, and a light went on in his eyes. “Oh, the one with the bowtie?”
“Yes! Him!”
“His boyfriend came and got him. They were all over each other.” He laughed. “He also paid your tab, so no worries.”
Kurt was trying and failing to manage his anger and rising panic at the bartender’s words. He needed more information. “His boyfriend? What the hell are you talking about? What did he look like?”
“Tall, skinny, designer clothes…drank Heinekens all night.”
Realization hit Kurt like a punch to the gut and he almost doubled over with dread. He was suddenly finding it very hard to breathe. “Which way…” deep breath, “did they go?”
“Headed out the back, toward the bathrooms.” Kurt turned and ran. The bartender just shook his head and shrugged. Kids these days.
***
“Kurt where er we goin? Don’ feel good.”
“Shhhh, killer. I’m gonna take real good care of you.”
“Kurt…you don’ soun’ like Kurt…” Blaine murmured, cracking his eyes open as he fell into a door without warning. He felt it swing open and suddenly everything was bright white and blinding. He lost his footing but the Kurt-that-didn’t-sound-or-smell-like-Kurt caught him. He clung to the strong arms around him as he was shuffled backward until his knees hit something solid, forcing him down on his bottom. Thankfully, he seemed to have landed in a seated position on something cold and hard.
Blaine moaned. Kurt-that-didn’t-sound-or-smell-like-Kurt was mouthing at his neck. It felt nice, but this didn’t feel like Kurt either. Blaine’s mind was a whirlpool but through the blur and the spinning the non-Kurtness of everything was beginning to feel like a very solid and heavy anchor in his gut. He didn’t like it. Blaine forced his eyes open and after the room finally stilled the first thing his mind registered was blue. A wall of blue in front of him. Oh, a little speck of silver too. His head lolled, giving him a view to his side. Tile. White tile. Something in his mind slid into place—bathroom. He was in a bathroom.
A jolt of shock went through Blaine’s entire body. He was in a bathroom, sitting on a toilet, with a guy sucking on his neck and, if what he felt were knuckles just below his belly button, the guy was also undoing his pants. It didn’t matter that when he looked down he could only see a head of brown hair and a nondescript jaw mouthing at his neck—he knew this wasn’t Kurt. Even his liquor sodden brain knew Kurt would never do this, not in a dirty club bathroom. Not with Blaine about to vomit. Too much florescent light and not nearly enough romance.
Blaine’s limbs were heavy with drink, but powered by the mantra of “not Kurt” ringing in his head, he managed to lift his arms and push against the stranger’s shoulders. Having been crouched down, the stranger tumbled backward into the stall door, knocking it open.
With the man off of him, Blaine made to stand up. He was almost on his feet when he locked eyes with the rising stranger and recognition dawned on him: “S’bastian?!” Blaine swayed with shock, grabbing his head as his shoulder collided with the side stall wall.
Sebastian was back on his feet with dizzying speed. Blaine tried to balance on his own two feet and push past Sebastian and out of the stall, but Sebastian shoved Blaine back into the stall and Blaine fell backward into the toilet with a thud. Blaine cried out with the pain of it.
“Shhh, it didn’t hurt that much,” Sebastian spat, advancing on Blaine. “Plus, now that Miss Priss is gone, we get to play. Enjoy it.” Sebastian sneered. “I will.” Sebastian reached down and, ignoring Blaine’s slurred “nosstop,” grabbed at Blaine’s belt, tugging it loose and getting the top button of Blaine’s pants open before Blaine managed to regroup, swiping at and pushing against Sebastian’s chest and shoulders with little coordination or success.
Sebastian suddenly let go of Blaine’s pants and stood up straight. “No? Not interested in that game?” Sebastian teased, grabbing Blaine’s jaw and tilting Blaine’s head back so he could look into Blaine’s frightened and unfocused eyes. “We’ll just have to try something different won’t we?”
Still holding Blaine’s face, completely unfazed by Blaine’s protests and weak slaps at his arm, Sebastian started unbuckling his own belt. Blaine tried but couldn’t shake his head out of Sebastian’s grip.
**
Kurt nearly slid on the slick club floor, rounding the corner toward the bathroom at a run.
Over the music and the thud of his own heartbeat, Kurt thought he could hear the telltale sounds of struggle. Kurt was halfway down the dark and abandoned hallway when he heard Blaine’s voice, clear as day: “S’bastian! Nosstop!”
“Come on, open your mouth!”
Terrified of what he might find, but more frightened of what might happen if he was too late, Kurt threw open the door to the men’s bathroom and tried to keep down the bile rising in his throat as he attempted to digest the scene unfolding in front of him.
One of the blue stall doors was hanging open. Sebastian was standing in it, his back to Kurt. At this angle, Kurt could see Blaine slumped on the toilet, fear and confusion in his eyes, his jaw clasped in Sebastian’s grip, his lips in a tight line, and his head shaking.
Kurt lost the next seconds in a fog of rage and adrenaline. The next thing Kurt was aware of was somehow being in the stall with Blaine, Sebastian in the background, struggling to his feet and cradling his bleeding head where it had collided with and shattered what had been the dingy bathroom mirror.
Kurt bent down and gently cupped Blaine’s face where bruises were already forming. “Blaine, baby, look at me, are you all right?” Kurt’s eyes roamed over Blaine looking for any more bruises or obvious injuries. His eyes fell to Blaine’s lap where Blaine’s pants were still undone and he choked back a sob.
Blaine’s eyes fluttered open. “Kurt, you’re back,” Blaine seemed to smile as his eyes went glassy and unfocused again.
“You’re gonna be okay, sweetie,” Kurt whispered as he tried to steady his shaky hands so he could button Blaine’s pants and buckle his belt.
“He’s fucking fine!” Sebastian drunkenly yelled from behind Kurt, leaning against the sink for balance and checking his bleeding head in what was left of the mirror. “We were enjoying ourselves just fine before you sashayed in and interrupted.”
Kurt spun to face Sebastian. “What did you do to him, you son of a bitch?”
“Nothing he didn’t want,” Sebastian taunted, making a show of zipping his pants up.
“He’s barely coherent!” Kurt’s voice broke. “You sick, twisted fuck! Get out before I call the police!”
“Go ahead. They’ll just call my father. Ya’ know, the state attorney? And what with these injuries,” Sebastian made a show of the blood on his hand, clearly from his head wound, ”I’m pretty sure it’s you they’ll have in a cell by morning.” Emboldened, Sebastian advanced on Kurt. “Your little boyfriend too, after I tell them how you both ganged up on me in the bathroom. All a part of your revenge plot since you somehow got it in your head that I was responsible for Blaine’s recent eye injury and surgery.”
Kurt and Sebastian were face to face. Kurt standing in the doorway of the stall with Blaine behind him, still seated on the toilet, his head propped on the stall wall, eyes closed and so peaceful he could’ve been sleeping. Kurt, unafraid and unmoving, stared Sebastian right in the eyes and spoke with the cool conviction of a threat he had every intention of fulfilling: “My father is in Congress. He makes laws. If you ever come near us again, I swear I will not only end you, but also your father, your mother, and your entire lineage. I will ruin everything you are or could ever hope to be.”
Kurt did not blink or move and Sebastian relented, taking a few, slow backward steps before turning and leaving the bathroom. With Sebastian gone, Kurt turned and refocused his attention on Blaine. Kurt bent down, took both of Blaine’s arms over his shoulders and lifted, stumbling backward slightly. “Come on sweetie, I need you to walk a bit for me,” Kurt breathed into Blaine’s ear.
The jostling seemed to shake Blaine alert. Blaine stumbled a little, but managed to hold some of his own weight. Blaine took a deep breath, his face tucked into the crook of Kurt’s neck. “Yousmelllieyounow, Kurt.”
“Good. I’m here now,” Kurt tried to keep the tears out of his voice. “It’s okay.”
Kurt shifted Blaine’s weight and they began making their way, ever so slowly, out of the bathroom and to Kurt’s car. “Kurt?” Blaine whispered once they were in the darkened hallway.
“Yes, sweetie?”
“ ’m glad you here now…was scary widouchu.”
***
Him 2:47pm
I’m here.
Him 8:19am
For you.
Him 5:32pm
I miss you.
Him 11:56pm
I love you.
Blaine 12:03am
I love you.
Him 12:05am
Can we meet?
Blaine 12:09am
Where?
Kurt 12:11am
At the beginning.
Blaine was an impeccable driver. He believed in wearing his seatbelt, holding his hands at 10 and 2, checking all three mirrors before changing lanes, waiting 5 seconds at every stop sign, and, above all, he never exceeded the speed limit by more than 5 mph. So when Blaine took a sharp turn going 80 mph in a 50 mph zone, spun out, and somehow came to a smoking yet safe halt on the shoulder of the road, he decided he needed to take a moment to collect himself. If there was any time that he needed to “arrive alive” as the ad campaign he took very seriously cautioned, it was tonight. After basically a month of radio silence and his valiant attempts to come to terms with the idea that he and Kurt were over, Kurt’s text messages had simultaneously undone and remade his entire world. The only thing he knew for sure anymore was that he needed to be where Kurt was as soon as humanly possible. Sitting on the side of the road, his car facing oncoming traffic and the heat emanating from his tires white and wispy in the cold of the night, Blaine updated the list of things he knew for sure: 1) I love Kurt, 2) Kurt loves me, 3) I need to be where Kurt is, and 4) I need to be alive when I get there.
Blaine smoothed down the front of his winter coat, tightened his scarf, and pulled slowly and deliberately back onto the road toward his heart’s only destination: Kurt.
***
Kurt should have been cold. The surrounding grounds were still dusted with snow. Icicles were lengthening above him where he stood on the entry steps to the aging, yet still majestic building. Yet, Kurt was sweating—his anxiety and anticipation lighting a furnace in his middle such that he had to loosen his perfectly wrapped scarf to release some of the steam lest he cook in his own clothes. It was for the best really, since the doors had been locked and there was no chance of getting inside to warm up. Which sadly also meant he couldn’t get to the staircase, so the slowly icing one beneath his feet would have to do. Honestly, he should’ve thought of this little snag, seeing as he had attended the school himself and knew full well that curfew was at 11pm and strictly enforced—all lights out, all doors locked. But his combined desperation to see Blaine and inclination for romance had driven tiny details like time and temperature from his mind…a mind that went completely blank when a familiar Volkswagen station wagon parked near the entrance.
Blaine, somehow even more gorgeous than the pristine, dreamy image preserved in Kurt’s memory, walked up the Dalton entrance clad in his navy blue pea coat and dark wash jeans cuffed to reveal a rare socked ankle just visible above his dark gray saddle shoes. At the sight of Blaine’s tentative smile and five o’clock shadow, the finals of the Olympic floor exercise competition commenced in Kurt’s tummy.
It took all of Blaine’s composure not to run to Kurt and wrap him in his arms, if only to be sure he was real. But Blaine didn’t know what the rules were, so he instead walked until he reached the invisible barrier of betrayal, anger, and doubt built by a month of silence, and stood…waiting.
It was Kurt who spoke first. “Hi.”
“Hi.”
Kurt didn’t really know where to begin, so he started with the truth. “I’m glad you came.”
“I’m glad you wanted to see me,” Blaine confessed.
“I always want to see you.” Kurt trembled, a lone tear trickling down his cheek. “Only want to see you.”
“Oh, Kurt,” Blaine whispered, his own tears flowing now. And with that, the wall between them crumbled and they crashed into each other: fingers dug into backs, ran through hair, and cupped faces; tears mingled and dampened the other’s cheeks; and mouths uttered breathless apologies and declarations of love into ears between haphazard kisses.
“I missed you so much,” Blaine sighed into the corner of Kurt’s mouth, squeezing him even more tightly.
“I missed you too. So much, Blaine.” Kurt pulled back and cupped Blaine’s face. “I’m so so sorry, you have to believe me,” Kurt implored through his tears.
“I know. Me too,” Blaine replied, thumbing away Kurt’s tears. “It doesn’t matter. All that matters is that you’re here.”
“No,” Kurt gripped Blaine’s shoulders, shaking him slightly. “It does matter. I need you to know that Timmy and I—“
“Kurt,” Blaine interrupted, shaking his head, “I don’t care. Whatever you did with Timmy—“
“I didn’t do anything with Timmy,” Kurt rushed, talking over Blaine.
Blaine paused and his eyebrows knit together. “But…but I called and…”
Kurt’s eyes went wide. “You called?”
“Of course, I called,” Blaine whispered, slowly shaking his head at Kurt’s doubt. “You have to know I didn’t mean…would never mean I was done.”
“I know, I know.” Kurt leaned in and kissed Blaine.
“I called the very next morning and when Timmy answered and said you were in the shower, I thought…I thought…”
“Wha? No, oh my God no!”
“So…you didn’t?” Blaine blinked. “You weren’t together?”
Kurt cradled Blaine’s face in his palms, and spoke slowly and confidently as he gazed into Blaine’s eyes. “No.” A beat. “Never.” Kurt kissed a tear from Blaine’s cheek. “I haven’t seen him since that morning. I never even wanted him, Blaine.” Kurt shut his eyes and took a deep breath. “You asked why I kissed him.”
“Kurt, please, you don’t—“ Blaine tried.
“Shhh,” Kurt, eyes still closed, leaned his forehead against Blaine’s. “Let me. Please.”
Moments passed and Blaine did not protest. Kurt pressed on. “You asked me why I kissed him. I kissed him because I needed to kiss you. Because when you asked if I wanted to do this…us, anymore, I said it was difficult, but I didn’t mean being with you is difficult. I meant that being without you is difficult.” Kurt’s eyes surveyed the entirety of Blaine. “I want you all of the time. I need you all of the time. So much so, that when I’m away from you, I try to recreate you…I search the universe for pieces of you. Convincing myself I see you in the warm brown eyes of a stranger. Reaching out for the dark curls of a random man on the subway just so I can pretend I touched you that day. Going to musicals to hear even a cheap imitation of your voice and singing along because I miss our harmony. I’ve been kicked out of five Broadway shows since I moved to New York, three in the last month, Blaine!”
Blaine dropped his head and giggled. Kurt leaned his head to the side and smiled.
“You were right…he liked me, and I knew it. But I didn’t want to admit it…couldn’t admit it...especially not after Sebastian, because that would mean he and I couldn’t be friends…” Kurt dropped his head, ashamed.
“Was…were you afraid he was like Sebastian?”
“No. He would never…nothing like that.”
Blaine exhaled and Kurt continued. “But he didn’t respect our relationship. I knew that when I woke up after the party with his arm around me. But I—I needed a friend and he was the only person even interested in talking to me at all, and I thought I could handle it.”
“So did I…” Blaine muttered empathetically.
“So I…I tried to apologize after I yelled at him that morning. And he had your sense of humor, and he smiled at me the way you do.” Tears clouded Kurt’s voice. “He even rubbed in the facial scrub we bought in the same weird way you do.” Kurt looked to the sky and laughed through his tears, shaking his head and wiping his nose with his hand before continuing. “So many pieces of you…it almost felt like home. And then he sat down next to me, and I knew he was about to kiss me but I couldn’t think, couldn’t move, and then it was happening and I—I closed my eyes and made myself believe it was you, because I had to. I needed it to be you. I always need it to be you. I will always need it to be you.”
Blaine surged forward and gave Kurt exactly what he needed, what they both needed in that moment. It was messy and unpretty, with cold, running noses jammed against tearful cheeks, and uncoordinated tongues, clattering teeth and chapped lips. It was all of their complexity, ugly and crazy fused with the simplicity, beauty, and logic of them. It was Kurt and Blaine, Blaine and Kurt, together: perfect in their imperfection.
An hour later, snuggled in the backseat of Blaine’s station wagon, covered in a makeshift blanket of coats and scarves, the fog of their love making shielding them from view of the outside world, they traded most-pathetic-thing-you-did-when-you-thought-we-had-broken-up stories. It was Kurt’s turn. “There was a man wearing your cologne.” Kurt whispered into Blaine’s neck. “I followed him for five city blocks. I almost got arrested.”
“Oh, Kurt.” Blaine turned and placed a soothing kiss on Kurt’s forehead.
Kurt shifted until he was on top of Blaine, pressing his forearms to Blaine’s chest for balance. Looking down at Blaine, Kurt confessed, “Seriously, Blaine. I don’t know what I would’ve done if you hadn’t agreed to meet me.” Kurt tucked his fingers into Blaine’s love-mussed curls. “I can’t survive on pieces of you.”
Blaine grabbed Kurt’s wrist, slid Kurt’s fingers out of his hair down to his cheek, and turned and placed a kiss in Kurt’s palm. “You’ll never have to. You have me. All of me.”
They shared all of each other twice more before a flashlight, knock on the window, and a badge told them they had to leave.
“He’s harmless, Kurt,” Blaine chuckled.
“Harmless, huh?” Kurt huffed, snatching Blaine’s phone from his hand.
“Kurt, is this really necessary?” Blaine was still smiling, fighting to keep his laughter to a minimum. He didn’t want to upset Kurt, but he couldn’t help finding this side of his boyfriend adorably amusing. Kurt was jealous. Blaine thought it was precious, especially because, to him, there was nothing at all to worry about, and watching Kurt work himself into a territorial tizzy made Blaine want to simultaneously dote on and ravish him. It was just so cute and intriguingly sexy.
“Hey, killer! Are you bringing all that sexy to the club tonight?” Kurt’s dramatic reading of Blaine’s most recent text from Sebastian pulled Blaine out of his fantasy and back to reality…a reality where Kurt was still very much angry and fully clothed (and still—always—adorable). “We didn’t get to dance nearly enough last time.” Kurt was really getting into it, pulling faces and glaring pointedly as if daring Blaine to continue to insist on Sebastian’s alleged harmlessness. Kurt looked up from the phone, eyes narrow and taunted, “Oh, and this is the best part!” Kurt was getting even more worked up, taking a dramatic pause before angrily enunciating every single word in the rest of Sebastian’s text. “I have some hot new dance moves I want you to see.” Kurt held the phone up, screen facing Blaine, and shook it, “He likes you! He wants you, Blaine! Are you going to deny it?” Kurt challenged.
“Of course not.” Blaine’s easy smile and relaxed tone caught Kurt off guard, his eyes going wide.
“Wha…?”
“Kurt, babe, please hand me the phone,” Blaine soothed, casually holding out his hand. Kurt lifted his arm up straight into the air, holding it out of Blaine’s reach.
“Uh uh. No.” Kurt turned his back, but Blaine just smiled, sidling up behind him, wrapping his arms around Kurt’s waist, and tucking his chin over Kurt’s shoulder.
Blaine caressed Kurt’s outstretched arm. “Kurt,” Blaine sang into Kurt’s ear, gently rocking him from side to side. “Please put the phone down, sweetie.”
“No, Blaine,” Kurt stiffened, even stomping his foot (Blaine had to bite his lip to keep from giggling), “Not until you admit Sebastian wants you!”
Blaine dropped his hand from Kurt’s arm, tightened his hold around Kurt’s middle, and hummed into his ear, “You’re right. He does.”
Kurt turned so fast in Blaine’s arms that Blaine stumbled and almost fell over. “Ah ha!” Kurt declared, throwing the phone onto his bed. “So you admit it!”
When Blaine regained his balance, he was still smiling. “Of course I admit it, Kurt.”
Kurt’s mouth fell open and his eyes widened as he stood frozen to the spot. Blaine fixed his eyes on Kurt and approached, carefully pacing every step until they were again face to face. Blaine placed his hands firmly on Kurt’s hips. “You’re correct about Sebastian, but you’re forgetting the most important thing.”
Kurt’s lips pursed and eyebrows arched in challenge.
Blaine let the smile slip from his lips as he set his jaw and pulled a stubbornly resistant Kurt to him until their foreheads touched. Then, with firm sincerity, four words traveled from Blaine’s mouth and ghosted across Kurt’s lips: “I. Only. Want. You.” Kurt seemed to shrink a few centimeters and Blaine could feel Kurt’s weight press into him. Blaine slid his hands up Kurt’s frame and cupped his face, connecting their eyes. “I love you, Kurt. Only, you.”
Kurt’s eyes were downcast, but his forehead moved up and down against Blaine’s and he sniffled. “I know you love me, but—“
“No ‘buts,’ Kurt,” Blaine interrupted. “You’re it for me. Sebastian may as well not exist for all he means to me. Yes, he’s a fellow Warbler, and since his reform we share an obligatory level of friendship that requires my kindness. But, this…” Blaine grabbed Kurt’s right hand and pressed Kurt’s palm hard to his own chest. “This. Do you feel that?”
Kurt and Blaine stood in silence, Kurt’s hand held firmly to Blaine’s chest. Kurt’s head slowly nodded in time with the steady rhythm of Blaine’s life thrumming below his warm skin.
“Every single one,” Blaine gently declared. “They’re all for you, Kurt.”
Kurt’s face softened and his glistening eyes held Blaine’s gaze. “Come here,” Blaine said, taking Kurt’s hand, leading him to the bed, and gesturing for him to sit. Kurt sat straight-backed at the foot of his bed with his arms crossed. Blaine plopped down beside him and began immediately stroking the small of Kurt’s back. “Now, I’m guessing you’re upset because you don’t like it when other guys hit on me.”
“Oh, you think?” Kurt sassed.
“And I empathize with that,” Blaine pressed on.
“So, is that why you laughed at me?” Kurt muttered, trying for indignant.
“Yes, because I think it’s adorable.” Blaine reached out and playfully squeezed Kurt’s knee. “I didn’t mean for it to upset you, it’s just I don’t get to see territorial Kurt very often and you’re cute when you’re feisty. It’s like you’re defending our couple-y honor.’” They both chuckled and Kurt finally uncrossed his arms and leaned into Blaine. “But babe,” Blaine continued softly, moving his hand up to lightly stroke the back of Kurt’s neck, “if you’re upset because you feel threatened or because you have any fear that my heart isn’t yours completely, then I’m hurt.”
Kurt’s expression held a question and confusion but he didn’t speak.
“I’m hurt that you would have so little faith in me…in us…” Blaine continued, his eyes moist. “…and it makes me think I haven’t done enough to make you believe my love. Because if you did, you’d know that I’m not going to leave you, especially not for a few pick up lines and text messages from the guy that nearly blinded me, no matter how many times he apologizes.”
It was Kurt’s turn to comfort and he took his cue, grabbing Blaine’s face and kissing him before looping his arms over Blaine’s shoulders in an embrace and whispering urgently, “I believe your love. I do.” Kurt pulled back to look in Blaine’s eyes before admitting, “It’s just…I don’t believe him. Why are we even still talking to him?”
“Because that’s what you do when someone apologizes and you agree to be friends.”
“I still don’t trust him.”
“Do you trust me?”
“Yes,” Kurt answered without hesitation.
“Then trust me when I tell you Sebastian is nothing to worry about. I’m not going anywhere.”
“Is that so?” Kurt smirked, relenting.
“Yep.” Blaine stole a quick kiss.
“Hmm, but I thought you were going to the club tonight with your BFF?” Kurt teased.
Blaine grabbed Kurt’s hips and rolled over onto his back, steadying Kurt astride his lap. “Only if you bring all that sexy with you.” Blaine gave a devilish grin as he squeezed Kurt’s bottom.
Kurt giggled and shook his head, “Blaine Anderson, these pick up lines, tsk tsk tsk.”
“See how terrible they are?” Blaine smiled and surged upward to kiss Kurt. “I’d simply ask,” kiss, “if you’d like to accompany me,” peck, “for a night on the town.”
“And I’d say yes,” smooch, “I’d love to.” With that, Kurt rolled off of Blaine and bounded off the bed with surprising speed.
Blaine sat up on his elbows, “Where are you going?”
“To get changed,” Kurt called as he ran to his closet. “If we’re going out, I need to make sure you’re not the only one getting hit on!”
Blaine propped himself up on his elbow, shook his head slightly, and laughed under his breath.
“Oh,” Kurt popped his head out of his walk in closet. “I’m gonna invite Rachel and Mercedes. They wanted to hang out tonight.”
“Sounds great! The more the merrier,” Blaine called back. Kurt slipped back into his closet and Blaine rummaged for his phone in the rumpled bed covers. Finding it, he shook his head at Sebastian’s text with a chuckle, and thumbed out a response: I’ll be there and I’ll be bringing all the sexy: Rachel, Mercedes, and of course, Kurt!
***
Kurt alone had always taken awhile to perfect his ensemble and be “runway ready.” His routine, combined with Blaine’s gelling regimen and Rachel and Mercedes’s primping needs all cramped in Kurt’s bathroom meant it took exponentially longer for them to be ready for their close ups. The dance floor at Scandals never really picked up until around 11, but even though they had fake IDs, they were still high school students and curfews were a very real thing. They were supposed to meet Sebastian at Scandals at 9:30, but didn’t even leave Kurt’s house until 9:40. Blaine was uncomfortable. He couldn’t stand being late, it was more than ungentlemanly—it was downright rude. But try as he might, his gentle suggestions to Rachel that her hair had been perfect 15 minutes ago and that they should’ve left 15 minutes before that had fallen on ears made deaf by the roar of a blow dryer. So, he had thumbed out a text to Sebastian under Kurt’s still watchful eye.
“Just letting him know we’re running late,” Blaine reassured.
***
Blaine 9:20pm
Hey Sebastian, we underestimated how long it would take for everyone to get ready, so we’re running a bit late. We’re sorry for the delay.
Sebastian slammed his phone down on the bar, and asked the bartender for another.
“Boyfriend running late?” the bartender asked, handing Sebastian his usual Heineken.
“You could say that.”
Sebastian got through another two beers by the time Blaine, Kurt, Rachel and Mercedes strolled in.
“Finally!” Sebastian huffed.
“Oh, which one is he?” the bartender asked, eyeing the new arrivals.
“The hot one with the gel and the bowtie.”
“He’s quite a cutie, and so is that lanky one with them. Should I make him a drink?”
“Just give him what I’m having.” Sebastian grabbed another Heineken from the bartender, strode toward the entering group and, ignoring Kurt, Rachel and Mercedes, handed the beer to Blaine. “So glad you could make it, killer. I got something for you.”
Blaine forced out a polite response, “Thanks, Sebastian.” Blaine could ignore the blatant flirting, but he didn’t like Sebastian’s open disregard for others, especially Kurt. “Sorry we’re late. We’re gonna head to the bar and then we’ll meet you on the dance floor.”
“Good, don’t keep me waiting too long.” Sebastian winked at Blaine before heading toward the neon lights of the dance floor.
“Wow, Kurt,” Mercedes said, her mouth a little open and her eyes watching Sebastian’s retreating back as they walked toward the bar. “You weren’t joking. He is still an ass.”
“And not just because he’s competition!” Rachel interjected.
“I thought he’d ‘reformed?’” Mercedes used air quotes for emphasis.
“Apparently that doesn’t extend to respecting other people and their relationships,” Kurt quipped.
Blaine sighed. “Yes, but he’s ultimately harmless. Let’s just ignore him, be as nice as we can, and have a good time, okay?”
“Easy for you to say,” Kurt said coolly, reaching the bar and hoisting himself expertly onto a stool.
Blaine placed his hand on Kurt’s lower back to sooth him. “Here, why don’t you have this?” Blaine offered Kurt the beer Sebastian had given him.
Kurt huffed. “No, thank you. He probably roofied it anyway.” Registering what he’d just said, Kurt snatched the beer from Blaine, holding it from the top with his thumb and forefinger as though it was diseased, and waved for the bartender. “Can you please take this? He’ll have a rum and Coke,” he said, gesturing to Blaine. “And they’ll have…” Kurt looked to Rachel and Mercedes.
“I’ll have a Cosmo!” Rachel squeaked, hopping in place.
“Cranberry and vodka, please,” Mercedes smiled, trying to display as little underage excitement over ordering her first drink at a bar as she could.
“And how about you, cutie?” The bartender asked Kurt.
“Oh, no, umm, I’ll just have a Shirley Temple please,” Kurt blushed. “I’m the DD tonight.”
The bartender clucked his tongue dramatically. “Such a shame. You’re probably even cuter on the dance floor, tipsy and shimmying.”
“Yes, he is.” Blaine interjected. “Would you mind bringing us our drinks please?”
The bartender looked from Kurt to Blaine, knitted his eyebrows together, shrugged, and turned to go make their drinks.
Kurt sat up straight on his stool and whispered, “Who’s jealous now?”
Blaine leaned in and gave Kurt a chaste kiss on the cheek before breathing in his ear, “I told you I empathize. I’m just defending our couple-y honor.”
When the drinks arrived, Blaine, Rachel and Mercedes eagerly partook.
“Are you sure you don’t want a drink? We could always take a cab home.” Blaine offered.
“No, I’m fine. Someone has to make sure you and Rachel don’t get sloppy and start making out.” Blaine dropped his head and giggled.
***
It was a good thing Kurt stayed sober because Rachel did, in fact, get sloppy. At least this time she targeted her misplaced drunken affections at an extremely uninterested Sebastian who kept batting her away and nudging her toward a dancing Mercedes and refocusing his attentions on Blaine who was nearly as gone as Rachel, but still vigorously shaking his hips in Kurt’s direction over by the bar. Kurt was resting his feet and grabbing waters for everyone. It had been hard work staying sober and keeping himself strategically between an increasingly drunk Blaine and an increasingly predatory (something he hadn’t thought possible) Sebastian.
Kurt leaned on the bar, miffed. If Kurt was honest with himself, he knew Blaine really only had eyes for him, Kurt, that night, getting clumsily handsy and nipping adorably at his neck on the dance floor. But he still didn’t trust Sebastian and had felt Sebastian glaring at him in the moments Blaine had been especially affectionate while they had danced, as though he was looking for an in and Kurt was an obstacle. At that moment, with Kurt a good distance away at the bar, it seemed Sebastian had found his opportunity. Kurt looked up just in time to see Sebastian’s hands find Blaine’s hips, turning a swaying Blaine toward him and leaning down, apparently whispering something in Blaine’s ear. Mercedes was too busy trying to steady Rachel on her feet to notice, but Kurt certainly saw and rage pushed him from the bar, waters forgotten, and he stormed onto the dance floor grabbing Blaine’s arm and yanking him away, but not before giving Sebastian a look that he hoped struck him dead where he stood.
“Kurt! There you are!” Blaine said comically loud, his eyes fluttering shut and head lolling onto Kurt’s shoulder. “Been lookin’ for you forever,” he slurred, nipping again at Kurt’s neck but missing, his head bobbing aimlessly instead. Blaine was stumbling, nearly dead weight, so Kurt grabbed one of Blaine’s exploring hands, looped Blaine’s arm over his shoulder and led Blaine’s drunken weight back to the bar. Kurt had just gotten Blaine onto a stool, most of his weight held up by the sticky bar, when screams and yelps erupted on the dance floor. Kurt turned to see all five of Rachel’s cosmos spraying from her mouth and onto the dance floor. “Watch him!” Kurt yelled to the bartender and took off toward Rachel, a space clearing around her as she covered the floor with putrid liquid.
“Mercedes, help me with her!” Kurt called as he grabbed Rachel from one side. He’d thought of asking Sebastian, but he seemed more interested in making sure his designer clothes were vomit free than helping people he clearly hadn’t wanted around in the first place. Mercedes hurried over, doing her best to avoid the pool Rachel had created, and draped Rachel’s other arm over her shoulder.
“What are we gonna do with her?” Mercedes called over the music.
“We need to get her to the car. This is clearly our cue to exit,” Kurt called, leading them toward the door, Rachel passed out between them, her chin on her chest and feet dragging behind her.
***
“Hey there, Blaine. Sit up.”
Blaine shook his head at the whispered command and gurgled in response. Every time he opened his eyes the room spun and his stomach swooped like it wanted to force its contents out of his mouth. So keeping his eyes and mouth shut seemed like the safest bet. Blaine felt firm arms wrap around him and lift him from the stool. Every movement made him queasy but the warm hands on his body started roaming down his waist to his backside and if Kurt was feeling him up, he definitely wanted to respond. “Mmm, Kurt,” Blaine moaned, turning his head blindly toward where he guessed Kurt’s neck would be. “You smell funny, Kurt,” Blaine slurred, trying to kiss Kurt’s neck but continuing his streak of missing wildly as his head bobbed forward and his chin collided with his chest.
The bartender had watched, slightly amused, as the taller boy lifted his boyfriend from the stool, clearly doing more touching and grabbing than was strictly necessary to lift him. The taller boy sat a wad of cash down on the bar, more than enough to cover the group’s tab.
“Hey, thanks!” the bartender called after the taller boy. “Your boyfriend’s a cutie! Take care of him and those bowties.”
***
It took Kurt and Mercedes nearly ten minutes to get Rachel squared away in Kurt’s Navigator. Kurt had refused to let her in the car until he was sure she was done vomiting, and after that, he and Mercedes had to get her to stop “performing” (off-key humming and wobbly twirling) long enough to subdue her and get her into the car. Finally, she was prone in the backseat, her head cradled in Mercedes’ lap as she hummed show tunes off-key.
“I’m gonna go get Blaine. I’ll be right back,” Kurt explained to Mercedes before shutting his back, side door and trotting back into Scandals. He tried to ignore the dirty looks from patrons and the employee on the dance floor still dealing with the emptied contents of Rachel’s stomach as he made his way back to the bar to retrieve Blaine. But as Kurt’s eyes scanned the bar, he and his heart came to a dead stop. Blaine was gone. Kurt ran to the bar, frantic. “Where is he?!” Kurt yelled at the bartender.
“Whoa, cutie, calm down. Where’s the fire?”
“The boy I asked you to watch! Where is he?” Kurt demanded.
The bartender looked around, his eyes fell on the stool Blaine previously occupied, and a light went on in his eyes. “Oh, the one with the bowtie?”
“Yes! Him!”
“His boyfriend came and got him. They were all over each other.” He laughed. “He also paid your tab, so no worries.”
Kurt was trying and failing to manage his anger and rising panic at the bartender’s words. He needed more information. “His boyfriend? What the hell are you talking about? What did he look like?”
“Tall, skinny, designer clothes…drank Heinekens all night.”
Realization hit Kurt like a punch to the gut and he almost doubled over with dread. He was suddenly finding it very hard to breathe. “Which way…” deep breath, “did they go?”
“Headed out the back, toward the bathrooms.” Kurt turned and ran. The bartender just shook his head and shrugged. Kids these days.
***
“Kurt where er we goin? Don’ feel good.”
“Shhhh, killer. I’m gonna take real good care of you.”
“Kurt…you don’ soun’ like Kurt…” Blaine murmured, cracking his eyes open as he fell into a door without warning. He felt it swing open and suddenly everything was bright white and blinding. He lost his footing but the Kurt-that-didn’t-sound-or-smell-like-Kurt caught him. He clung to the strong arms around him as he was shuffled backward until his knees hit something solid, forcing him down on his bottom. Thankfully, he seemed to have landed in a seated position on something cold and hard.
Blaine moaned. Kurt-that-didn’t-sound-or-smell-like-Kurt was mouthing at his neck. It felt nice, but this didn’t feel like Kurt either. Blaine’s mind was a whirlpool but through the blur and the spinning the non-Kurtness of everything was beginning to feel like a very solid and heavy anchor in his gut. He didn’t like it. Blaine forced his eyes open and after the room finally stilled the first thing his mind registered was blue. A wall of blue in front of him. Oh, a little speck of silver too. His head lolled, giving him a view to his side. Tile. White tile. Something in his mind slid into place—bathroom. He was in a bathroom.
A jolt of shock went through Blaine’s entire body. He was in a bathroom, sitting on a toilet, with a guy sucking on his neck and, if what he felt were knuckles just below his belly button, the guy was also undoing his pants. It didn’t matter that when he looked down he could only see a head of brown hair and a nondescript jaw mouthing at his neck—he knew this wasn’t Kurt. Even his liquor sodden brain knew Kurt would never do this, not in a dirty club bathroom. Not with Blaine about to vomit. Too much florescent light and not nearly enough romance.
Blaine’s limbs were heavy with drink, but powered by the mantra of “not Kurt” ringing in his head, he managed to lift his arms and push against the stranger’s shoulders. Having been crouched down, the stranger tumbled backward into the stall door, knocking it open.
With the man off of him, Blaine made to stand up. He was almost on his feet when he locked eyes with the rising stranger and recognition dawned on him: “S’bastian?!” Blaine swayed with shock, grabbing his head as his shoulder collided with the side stall wall.
Sebastian was back on his feet with dizzying speed. Blaine tried to balance on his own two feet and push past Sebastian and out of the stall, but Sebastian shoved Blaine back into the stall and Blaine fell backward into the toilet with a thud. Blaine cried out with the pain of it.
“Shhh, it didn’t hurt that much,” Sebastian spat, advancing on Blaine. “Plus, now that Miss Priss is gone, we get to play. Enjoy it.” Sebastian sneered. “I will.” Sebastian reached down and, ignoring Blaine’s slurred “nosstop,” grabbed at Blaine’s belt, tugging it loose and getting the top button of Blaine’s pants open before Blaine managed to regroup, swiping at and pushing against Sebastian’s chest and shoulders with little coordination or success.
Sebastian suddenly let go of Blaine’s pants and stood up straight. “No? Not interested in that game?” Sebastian teased, grabbing Blaine’s jaw and tilting Blaine’s head back so he could look into Blaine’s frightened and unfocused eyes. “We’ll just have to try something different won’t we?”
Still holding Blaine’s face, completely unfazed by Blaine’s protests and weak slaps at his arm, Sebastian started unbuckling his own belt. Blaine tried but couldn’t shake his head out of Sebastian’s grip.
**
Kurt nearly slid on the slick club floor, rounding the corner toward the bathroom at a run.
Over the music and the thud of his own heartbeat, Kurt thought he could hear the telltale sounds of struggle. Kurt was halfway down the dark and abandoned hallway when he heard Blaine’s voice, clear as day: “S’bastian! Nosstop!”
“Come on, open your mouth!”
Terrified of what he might find, but more frightened of what might happen if he was too late, Kurt threw open the door to the men’s bathroom and tried to keep down the bile rising in his throat as he attempted to digest the scene unfolding in front of him.
One of the blue stall doors was hanging open. Sebastian was standing in it, his back to Kurt. At this angle, Kurt could see Blaine slumped on the toilet, fear and confusion in his eyes, his jaw clasped in Sebastian’s grip, his lips in a tight line, and his head shaking.
Kurt lost the next seconds in a fog of rage and adrenaline. The next thing Kurt was aware of was somehow being in the stall with Blaine, Sebastian in the background, struggling to his feet and cradling his bleeding head where it had collided with and shattered what had been the dingy bathroom mirror.
Kurt bent down and gently cupped Blaine’s face where bruises were already forming. “Blaine, baby, look at me, are you all right?” Kurt’s eyes roamed over Blaine looking for any more bruises or obvious injuries. His eyes fell to Blaine’s lap where Blaine’s pants were still undone and he choked back a sob.
Blaine’s eyes fluttered open. “Kurt, you’re back,” Blaine seemed to smile as his eyes went glassy and unfocused again.
“You’re gonna be okay, sweetie,” Kurt whispered as he tried to steady his shaky hands so he could button Blaine’s pants and buckle his belt.
“He’s fucking fine!” Sebastian drunkenly yelled from behind Kurt, leaning against the sink for balance and checking his bleeding head in what was left of the mirror. “We were enjoying ourselves just fine before you sashayed in and interrupted.”
Kurt spun to face Sebastian. “What did you do to him, you son of a bitch?”
“Nothing he didn’t want,” Sebastian taunted, making a show of zipping his pants up.
“He’s barely coherent!” Kurt’s voice broke. “You sick, twisted fuck! Get out before I call the police!”
“Go ahead. They’ll just call my father. Ya’ know, the state attorney? And what with these injuries,” Sebastian made a show of the blood on his hand, clearly from his head wound, ”I’m pretty sure it’s you they’ll have in a cell by morning.” Emboldened, Sebastian advanced on Kurt. “Your little boyfriend too, after I tell them how you both ganged up on me in the bathroom. All a part of your revenge plot since you somehow got it in your head that I was responsible for Blaine’s recent eye injury and surgery.”
Kurt and Sebastian were face to face. Kurt standing in the doorway of the stall with Blaine behind him, still seated on the toilet, his head propped on the stall wall, eyes closed and so peaceful he could’ve been sleeping. Kurt, unafraid and unmoving, stared Sebastian right in the eyes and spoke with the cool conviction of a threat he had every intention of fulfilling: “My father is in Congress. He makes laws. If you ever come near us again, I swear I will not only end you, but also your father, your mother, and your entire lineage. I will ruin everything you are or could ever hope to be.”
Kurt did not blink or move and Sebastian relented, taking a few, slow backward steps before turning and leaving the bathroom. With Sebastian gone, Kurt turned and refocused his attention on Blaine. Kurt bent down, took both of Blaine’s arms over his shoulders and lifted, stumbling backward slightly. “Come on sweetie, I need you to walk a bit for me,” Kurt breathed into Blaine’s ear.
The jostling seemed to shake Blaine alert. Blaine stumbled a little, but managed to hold some of his own weight. Blaine took a deep breath, his face tucked into the crook of Kurt’s neck. “Yousmelllieyounow, Kurt.”
“Good. I’m here now,” Kurt tried to keep the tears out of his voice. “It’s okay.”
Kurt shifted Blaine’s weight and they began making their way, ever so slowly, out of the bathroom and to Kurt’s car. “Kurt?” Blaine whispered once they were in the darkened hallway.
“Yes, sweetie?”
“ ’m glad you here now…was scary widouchu.”
***
Him 2:47pm
I’m here.
Him 8:19am
For you.
Him 5:32pm
I miss you.
Him 11:56pm
I love you.
Blaine 12:03am
I love you.
Him 12:05am
Can we meet?
Blaine 12:09am
Where?
Kurt 12:11am
At the beginning.
Blaine was an impeccable driver. He believed in wearing his seatbelt, holding his hands at 10 and 2, checking all three mirrors before changing lanes, waiting 5 seconds at every stop sign, and, above all, he never exceeded the speed limit by more than 5 mph. So when Blaine took a sharp turn going 80 mph in a 50 mph zone, spun out, and somehow came to a smoking yet safe halt on the shoulder of the road, he decided he needed to take a moment to collect himself. If there was any time that he needed to “arrive alive” as the ad campaign he took very seriously cautioned, it was tonight. After basically a month of radio silence and his valiant attempts to come to terms with the idea that he and Kurt were over, Kurt’s text messages had simultaneously undone and remade his entire world. The only thing he knew for sure anymore was that he needed to be where Kurt was as soon as humanly possible. Sitting on the side of the road, his car facing oncoming traffic and the heat emanating from his tires white and wispy in the cold of the night, Blaine updated the list of things he knew for sure: 1) I love Kurt, 2) Kurt loves me, 3) I need to be where Kurt is, and 4) I need to be alive when I get there.
Blaine smoothed down the front of his winter coat, tightened his scarf, and pulled slowly and deliberately back onto the road toward his heart’s only destination: Kurt.
***
Kurt should have been cold. The surrounding grounds were still dusted with snow. Icicles were lengthening above him where he stood on the entry steps to the aging, yet still majestic building. Yet, Kurt was sweating—his anxiety and anticipation lighting a furnace in his middle such that he had to loosen his perfectly wrapped scarf to release some of the steam lest he cook in his own clothes. It was for the best really, since the doors had been locked and there was no chance of getting inside to warm up. Which sadly also meant he couldn’t get to the staircase, so the slowly icing one beneath his feet would have to do. Honestly, he should’ve thought of this little snag, seeing as he had attended the school himself and knew full well that curfew was at 11pm and strictly enforced—all lights out, all doors locked. But his combined desperation to see Blaine and inclination for romance had driven tiny details like time and temperature from his mind…a mind that went completely blank when a familiar Volkswagen station wagon parked near the entrance.
Blaine, somehow even more gorgeous than the pristine, dreamy image preserved in Kurt’s memory, walked up the Dalton entrance clad in his navy blue pea coat and dark wash jeans cuffed to reveal a rare socked ankle just visible above his dark gray saddle shoes. At the sight of Blaine’s tentative smile and five o’clock shadow, the finals of the Olympic floor exercise competition commenced in Kurt’s tummy.
It took all of Blaine’s composure not to run to Kurt and wrap him in his arms, if only to be sure he was real. But Blaine didn’t know what the rules were, so he instead walked until he reached the invisible barrier of betrayal, anger, and doubt built by a month of silence, and stood…waiting.
It was Kurt who spoke first. “Hi.”
“Hi.”
Kurt didn’t really know where to begin, so he started with the truth. “I’m glad you came.”
“I’m glad you wanted to see me,” Blaine confessed.
“I always want to see you.” Kurt trembled, a lone tear trickling down his cheek. “Only want to see you.”
“Oh, Kurt,” Blaine whispered, his own tears flowing now. And with that, the wall between them crumbled and they crashed into each other: fingers dug into backs, ran through hair, and cupped faces; tears mingled and dampened the other’s cheeks; and mouths uttered breathless apologies and declarations of love into ears between haphazard kisses.
“I missed you so much,” Blaine sighed into the corner of Kurt’s mouth, squeezing him even more tightly.
“I missed you too. So much, Blaine.” Kurt pulled back and cupped Blaine’s face. “I’m so so sorry, you have to believe me,” Kurt implored through his tears.
“I know. Me too,” Blaine replied, thumbing away Kurt’s tears. “It doesn’t matter. All that matters is that you’re here.”
“No,” Kurt gripped Blaine’s shoulders, shaking him slightly. “It does matter. I need you to know that Timmy and I—“
“Kurt,” Blaine interrupted, shaking his head, “I don’t care. Whatever you did with Timmy—“
“I didn’t do anything with Timmy,” Kurt rushed, talking over Blaine.
Blaine paused and his eyebrows knit together. “But…but I called and…”
Kurt’s eyes went wide. “You called?”
“Of course, I called,” Blaine whispered, slowly shaking his head at Kurt’s doubt. “You have to know I didn’t mean…would never mean I was done.”
“I know, I know.” Kurt leaned in and kissed Blaine.
“I called the very next morning and when Timmy answered and said you were in the shower, I thought…I thought…”
“Wha? No, oh my God no!”
“So…you didn’t?” Blaine blinked. “You weren’t together?”
Kurt cradled Blaine’s face in his palms, and spoke slowly and confidently as he gazed into Blaine’s eyes. “No.” A beat. “Never.” Kurt kissed a tear from Blaine’s cheek. “I haven’t seen him since that morning. I never even wanted him, Blaine.” Kurt shut his eyes and took a deep breath. “You asked why I kissed him.”
“Kurt, please, you don’t—“ Blaine tried.
“Shhh,” Kurt, eyes still closed, leaned his forehead against Blaine’s. “Let me. Please.”
Moments passed and Blaine did not protest. Kurt pressed on. “You asked me why I kissed him. I kissed him because I needed to kiss you. Because when you asked if I wanted to do this…us, anymore, I said it was difficult, but I didn’t mean being with you is difficult. I meant that being without you is difficult.” Kurt’s eyes surveyed the entirety of Blaine. “I want you all of the time. I need you all of the time. So much so, that when I’m away from you, I try to recreate you…I search the universe for pieces of you. Convincing myself I see you in the warm brown eyes of a stranger. Reaching out for the dark curls of a random man on the subway just so I can pretend I touched you that day. Going to musicals to hear even a cheap imitation of your voice and singing along because I miss our harmony. I’ve been kicked out of five Broadway shows since I moved to New York, three in the last month, Blaine!”
Blaine dropped his head and giggled. Kurt leaned his head to the side and smiled.
“You were right…he liked me, and I knew it. But I didn’t want to admit it…couldn’t admit it...especially not after Sebastian, because that would mean he and I couldn’t be friends…” Kurt dropped his head, ashamed.
“Was…were you afraid he was like Sebastian?”
“No. He would never…nothing like that.”
Blaine exhaled and Kurt continued. “But he didn’t respect our relationship. I knew that when I woke up after the party with his arm around me. But I—I needed a friend and he was the only person even interested in talking to me at all, and I thought I could handle it.”
“So did I…” Blaine muttered empathetically.
“So I…I tried to apologize after I yelled at him that morning. And he had your sense of humor, and he smiled at me the way you do.” Tears clouded Kurt’s voice. “He even rubbed in the facial scrub we bought in the same weird way you do.” Kurt looked to the sky and laughed through his tears, shaking his head and wiping his nose with his hand before continuing. “So many pieces of you…it almost felt like home. And then he sat down next to me, and I knew he was about to kiss me but I couldn’t think, couldn’t move, and then it was happening and I—I closed my eyes and made myself believe it was you, because I had to. I needed it to be you. I always need it to be you. I will always need it to be you.”
Blaine surged forward and gave Kurt exactly what he needed, what they both needed in that moment. It was messy and unpretty, with cold, running noses jammed against tearful cheeks, and uncoordinated tongues, clattering teeth and chapped lips. It was all of their complexity, ugly and crazy fused with the simplicity, beauty, and logic of them. It was Kurt and Blaine, Blaine and Kurt, together: perfect in their imperfection.
An hour later, snuggled in the backseat of Blaine’s station wagon, covered in a makeshift blanket of coats and scarves, the fog of their love making shielding them from view of the outside world, they traded most-pathetic-thing-you-did-when-you-thought-we-had-broken-up stories. It was Kurt’s turn. “There was a man wearing your cologne.” Kurt whispered into Blaine’s neck. “I followed him for five city blocks. I almost got arrested.”
“Oh, Kurt.” Blaine turned and placed a soothing kiss on Kurt’s forehead.
Kurt shifted until he was on top of Blaine, pressing his forearms to Blaine’s chest for balance. Looking down at Blaine, Kurt confessed, “Seriously, Blaine. I don’t know what I would’ve done if you hadn’t agreed to meet me.” Kurt tucked his fingers into Blaine’s love-mussed curls. “I can’t survive on pieces of you.”
Blaine grabbed Kurt’s wrist, slid Kurt’s fingers out of his hair down to his cheek, and turned and placed a kiss in Kurt’s palm. “You’ll never have to. You have me. All of me.”
They shared all of each other twice more before a flashlight, knock on the window, and a badge told them they had to leave.