It’s the first time since Kurt has left for New York that he’s been really, really sick. So sick that he can’t even get out of bed to make it to the bathroom in time before the contents of his stomach are heaved up for the umpteenth time that night. So instead, he’s lying in bed, curled in on himself amongst his cocoon of blankets, with a pot sitting on his nightstand ready to be used whenever need be. 

His roommate, Ben, is genuinely nice enough that he offers to skip going out with friends and hangs back to take care of Kurt. He brings him wet cloths for his burning forehead, glasses of water that help Kurt wash down the bitter taste in his mouth, and just the warm comfort of company and someone who cares. And even though Kurt is grateful beyond words for Ben being so kind, he still can’t fight the ache in his heart of missing the one person who never fails to make him feel better, no matter how sick he gets. 

Ben’s in his room, working on an English paper with his door slightly ajar in case Kurt weakly calls out for when he needs him. The apartment is quiet, the only consistent noise coming from the low hum of the space heater in the corner of the living room. Kurt is falling in and out of a drowsy slumber, not completely conscious due to the medicine that he’s been forcing down every few hours, but still awake enough that his mind is wandering back to the last time he was with Blaine. The last time he felt his boyfriend’s strong, warm hands encircle his waist and pull him close. The last time he felt Blaine nuzzle his nose against his neck, eliciting a small giggle, and felt his lips press softly below his earlobe.

He remembers their last night together before he had to leave. The way Blaine’s body had felt above him, pressed down close, and the contact of their skin, chest against chest, sending shivers down his spine, his entire body thrumming with passion. He remembers the way Blaine gasped against his shoulder, panting softly with each slow, deep thrust of his hips. The way his hands roamed along his back and down his sides, his slightly calloused fingertips pressing into his hips, desperate and wanting. He remembers the way Blaine moaned his name, the way he slumped back down and pressed soft, lazy kisses along his jaw, whispering sweet nothings into his ear. He remembers the way he felt so close and so connected to Blaine, just like he always did when they were able to share themselves with each other, so vulnerable and adoring and in love. 

But most of all, Kurt remembers the way Blaine curled him up in his arms afterwards and nuzzled his ear. The way it felt when Blaine airily trailed his fingers up and down his arm and traced small circles along his ribs that made him squeak and giggle and squirm under his touch, playfully pushing Blaine away, but both of them still knowing just how much he loved it. He remembers the way his skin tingled, the way his toes curled, the way Blaine’s tongue felt against his when he’d pulled him in for a kiss, Blaine’s hand sliding around to the small of his back and holding him close. He remembers the way Blaine had looked at him after they’d finally pulled apart for air, the way his warm, hazel eyes met his and locked with his unwavering gaze. The same look that always made his heart skip a beat and his stomach flip. He remembers the way Blaine’s voice sounded, the way his words rolled off his tongue quietly enough that nobody else would hear them, but still loud enough that Kurt made them out perfectly. “I love you”. He remembers the way that those three simple words made him feel. The way that those same three words always held so much weight, so much meaning. He remembers falling asleep in Blaine’s arms, blissed out and peaceful and perfectly content, and remembers hearing a soft, distant murmur of his name right before he drifts off.

And that’s the last thing that Kurt remembers before he finally surrenders to the sleep that’s been pulling him away, one of his pillows snuggled close in his grasp with Blaine on his mind, his body still victim to his fever, but his heart aching just a little less.