When they got in from the mall, Kurt was going to sit down with Blaine and have the talk; the one that they really needed to have before they went any further. But Carol had made his favourite apricot tartlets and it would've been rude not to sit with her and sample them, show her his purchases as Blaine added his own commentary here and there. Then, Burt had wanted Kurt's help with some new orders for the garage and Kurt couldn't physically bring himself to say no to his dad, not when he spent more time in New York than at home now. Once he'd finally finished, more than a little frustrated with how long it had taken, and gone to find Blaine, Rachel decided to have a wardrobe crisis for some date with a Junior and Kurt had had to talk her out of wearing a tiara because, really? Finally, after he'd sorted out a perfect first date outfit and she'd stopped sounding quite so hysterical, he'd hung up only to have Carol announce dinner.

It wasn't until eight that they were finally alone in Kurt's room (Blaine having insisted on helping with the dishes after dinner) and Kurt had meant to sit down and start the conversation, but Blaine had looked so tired and heartbreakingly gorgeous in the dim glow from his desk lamp that Kurt had simply popped on one of their favourite movies and snuggled back against the headboard with him before he'd even consciously processed what he was doing. And then a strange peacefulness had fallen over them and Blaine's side was so warm where it was pressed along his own that he didn't think he was capable of stringing together coherent thoughts even if he'd wanted to break the serene silence, which he didn't.
They were just getting to the part of the movie that always made Kurt tear up when he felt Blaine fidget next to him. He turned his head to find those ridiculously familiar hazel eyes boring into his.

"Kurt." Blaine said, and it wasn't a question, just a statement and for a moment Kurt thought he wasn't going to continue. But then he did.

"Why didn't you want to hold my hand in front of our friends earlier?" There was nothing accusing or judgmental about his tone, but Kurt's stomach still twisted unpleasantly because, hey, looks like they were going to talk after all.

"Because I just..." he trailed off, unsure how to put his feelings into words. "I wasn't ready."

"Can I...Can I ask why?" Blaine was still fidgeting uncomfortably but he hadn't dropped Kurt's gaze.

"Of course you can. I need some more time, that's all. You—You really hurt me," He felt his voice break and Blaine winced, his eyes finally falling down to his hands.

"I'm sorry," Blaine murmured, closing his eyes slightly.

"I know you are, and I've already forgiven you...It's not that exactly, it's just." He ran a hand through his hair in frustration; this wasn't coming out right. "I'm scared."

Blaine looked up at that, his forehead wrinkled in confusion.

"I'm scared about how much it hurt when—when you cheated. And I know you're sorry," He hurried to continue as Blaine opened his mouth to apologise yet again. "But I'm still scared. I'm scared at how emotionally invested I get when it comes to you, at how I tried so hard to move on from you but couldn't. I'm scared that I'm going to trust you again too easily and my heart will just get broken again. Because I love you so much and that really scares me. I didn't want the others to know yet because it makes it all real, you know? It makes me and you a real thing again, and I'm just not ready for that yet. What happens if we start all over again and the same thing happens? I'm scared that you'll break my heart again and I'm terrified that I'll kick myself for letting you back in. I can deal with hating you but I can't—I can't— deal with hating myself."

Kurt felt himself sag back against the headboard in relief once he'd finished, once he'd finally let it all out. God, he'd needed to say that for months.

"Ok," Blaine said slowly, the letters drawn out, "Ok, so the others seeing us holding hands, that was too like before, like nothing had happened."

"Yes, basically," Kurt replied, twisting his hands in his lap. At least Blaine seemed to have understood what he'd said.

"It would've made it too final—everyone knowing that we're boyfriends again."

Kurt's head snapped up at that. Maybe Blaine hadn't understood what he'd meant after all.

"I just—I want us to take this slow. And—and I'm not ready to be your boyfriend again, I don't want that yet." He tried to explain, but Blaine's face immediately fell and his eyes became too shiny.

"I'm not going to hurt you again." Blaine said with utter conviction, his eyes boring into Kurt's, oozing with sincerity. But Kurt couldn't just believe that; he couldn't completely surrender up his heart just yet, not when it was still taped together from last time, the wounds never having quite matured into scars.

"You don't know that, Blaine," He said, smiling sadly, willing Blaine to understand that he needed time. "We can still keep doing what we're doing, getting back on track slowly, but I just don't want to commit myself to anything—not yet."

"So you want to kiss me and hold my hand and go on dates, but you won't be my boyfriend?" Blaine asked and he sounded so goddamn unhappy that suddenly Kurt was angry; he just didn't understand. And he had no right to question what Kurt needed right now.

"You're the one who cheated, you're the reason we're not boyfriends in the first place!" He said, his voice rising in both volume and pitch.

"You think I don't know that?" Blaine had unconsciously moved even closer to Kurt on the bed.

"Well apparently not. You seem to think that you have some right to decide what stage we're at and just dictate how I feel about everything. Do you really think that's even up to you? I don't-want-to-be-your-boyfriend, Blaine!" Kurt shouted, accentuating each word as if talking to a mentally handicapped child. Blaine recoiled away from him, actually did a weird little jerk-leap backwards on the bed, and his shoulders slumped, his head ducking and his eyes filling with tears. For a moment Kurt thought he was going to start sobbing or run out of the house like earlier, or quite possibly both, but then Blaine looked up at him and he suddenly looked disconcertingly composed. Kurt's heart sank.

He knew that face, that mask that Blaine put up to hide his pain, the one that he usually reserved for his father. He knew the way Blaine's eyes hardened, knew the way his mouth evened out into a tight line, lips clenched together so as not to tremble, the way his posture became impeccable. He knew that polite, calm, flat tone when Blaine said, "You're right, I'm sorry", no emotion in his voice so as not to give anything away. Yes, he knew that face excruciatingly well after countless visits to the Anderson household, but never, never, did he think he would be the one to cause it. And the realisation cut through him, not like being chopped in half, that was too quick, too merciful. No, it felt like he was being stabbed repeatedly, over and over again, a million little needles jabbing into him.

"No, I'm sorry," Kurt whispered, wishing he could reach out towards Blaine but unable to move.

"Really, Kurt, the fault is all mine." Blaine said, smiling a horrifically fake, self-deprecating smile. Kurt could practically hear the pieces of Blaine's heart dropping to the bottom of his stomach, practically see him internally crying. Kurt wished he was crying, wished there were real, visible tears; anything but this self-inflicted torture Blaine used to internalise all the hurt, not show it on the outside because he wasn't meant to, wasn't allowed to.

"Blaine, no—" He began desperately, moving towards him, but Blaine cut across him, smile still firmly plastered in place.

"Just ignore me, I really shouldn't have. Let's continue the movie," He said lightly, shifting further away from Kurt on the bed, practically pressing himself up against the wall as he re-started the movie.

Kurt didn't know what to do. Angry Blaine, Kurt could deal with, or crying Blaine, or depressed Blaine, or hysterical Blaine, but this—this he had no idea how to fix. He'd caused this amazing, beautiful boy, who deserved all the laughter in the world, to retreat behind an impenetrable mask before his eyes. He, who knew Blaine better than anyone, suddenly didn't know this version of him at all, didn't even know where to start.

A sob left his chest as that thought really sank in. Blaine turned his head to look at him, smile gone but face still unnaturally inexpressive.

"Don't cry, silly," he said, but his voice was so un-Blaine like that it only made another sob escape, panic really setting in. "It's all fine now. I was being inconsiderate. Here, have a tissue," He handed Kurt a crumbled-up tissue, careful not to let their hands touch and then he just turned back to the movie. That was what did it—Blaine had never turned away from him crying before—and suddenly he couldn't stop the tears from rolling down his cheeks, chasing after each other as they dripped relentlessly onto his Marc Jacob's sweater. He didn't even care; he would never care about anything ever again if he had made Blaine permanently transform into this half-version of himself. As sob after body-wracking sob was wrenched out of him, his vision blurred and he became too light-headed. Unable to think any more, he allowed his instincts to take over and rolled to the side, curving himself around Blaine's unnaturally stiff form and latching on for dear life.

When the tears finally subsided enough for him to actually see, even if the picture was somewhat blurry, he glanced upwards, fingers still clutching Blaine's thigh, and for a fleeting second he saw the mask flicker, a tiny crack appearing. So he took the opportunity like a lifeline, hoping if he could just jam something into the crack he could lever it up somehow until the whole thing was lifted.

"I love you," he tried, his voice raw from crying but deadly sincere. Blaine didn't look away and that in itself Kurt considered a triumph. "I love you and I want to be your boyfriend again—just not yet. But I do want us to work on it."

Blaine blinked at him and Kurt could practically feel the raging internal war going on inside his head; it almost gave him a headache, let alone poor Blaine. But then, maybe that was just a result of all the crying he'd done.
Blaine opened his mouth a few times, the mask receding further by the second, but he seemed unable to articulate his thoughts. Kurt gave him a watery smile of encouragement and reached out again, but as soon as his fingers made contact with Blaine's arm, his eyes instantly hardened and he closed off again as if someone had flicked a switch in his brain.

"It's getting late; I'll be in the guest room." Blaine said and Kurt's breath hitched. He had never chosen to sleep apart from Kurt whenever he had the choice. Why wasn't the mask disappearing? How badly had Kurt hurt him?

"You don't have to—you can stay here..." He whispered brokenly after him. There was no point raising his voice any louder; Blaine had already shut the door behind him.