Kurt’s nursing another glass of straight vodka when the voice up on the stage finally winds its way around his heart and squeezes. He knows that song – The Beatles have always been a strong emotional connection for him, but it’s been years since he was able to listen to these lyrics. I look at you all, see the love in that sleeping…

He risks a glance up to the stage and spies a wild head of curls bent over a familiar old guitar. When the singing starts up again, the words stream from a familiar mouth, and his vodka tastes sweeter and there’s a tickle at the back of his throat like a memory.

It’s not long before his gaze moves to tired hazel eyes – and they’re not looking back at him, thank God, because that wouldn’t end well. At the same time, he can’t move himself from his seat. He finishes his drink and doesn’t ask for another, because just watching the simple performance in front of him is intoxicating – more than any drink he’s found or anything else he’s tried.

He knows that if the performance ends, Blaine will see him, and it’s more likely to end in tears and regret than it is to end in happiness and ‘I’ve missed you so much.’ Still, he finds himself glued to the spot, hoping. Hoping like he was that first day when a beautiful boy in a blazer sang to him for the very first time.

The song winds slowly to an end, and Blaine does look up, straight at him, and it’s like he knew he was there all along. He takes his guitar and comes down off the stage, headed straight for the stool next to him, and he still can’t bring himself to move.

“Seven years. It’s been seven years.”

Kurt knows how long it’s been. And he knows that Blaine knows he knows. But for some reason, saying it twists the knife in his gut that reminds him he is the one that ended it, and as tired as Blaine looks right now, there are probably all kinds of better things in his life. Things Kurt couldn’t afford any more. Things that Kurt can’t even let himself dream about when he goes to sleep at night in his closet-sized apartment, because this city became a nightmare instead of the dream he expected, and it tears at him inside, knowing how wrong he was, and know that he’s sitting lonely in a bar while his ex sits next to him, probably content in the ways it counts, and he knows, worst of all, that Rachel Berry is a few streets over, living her dream, because Kurt just wasn’t good enough, but she was. He’d been lying to himself for too long – coming here had only taught him that his dreams were unattainable. He wasn’t made to be sold as a brand. Nobody wanted to buy Kurt Hummel.

“For what it’s worth, I’m sorry,” Kurt replies, and he looks down at his empty glass. His lisp is back, a little, and that happens sometimes when he’s buzzed like this. The apology, though, still shines through, and Kurt knows that’s it’s too late to matter, but he needs to have Blaine hear it.

He chances a look up, and Blaine – Blaine sends his mind spiraling backwards, because he’s looking at him with that sad, sympathetic, adoring shine in his eyes – the most pronounced memory of that look being their talk in the hallway after Kurt had been named Prom Queen – sadly, a night he’d never been able to forget. “It’s worth a lot. Thank you, Kurt. I wish – I wish I could have given you a reason to stay.”

Oh God. The words send him crashing back into the present at full speed. All this time, has Blaine thought he was to blame? That there was something wrong with him? No, no, no. “Blaine,” Kurt says softly, and the shine in Blaine’s eyes isn’t just adoration now, but unshed tears are hiding there, too. “Please tell me you knew – you know why I left.”

“…You never said.”

It hits him like a punch to the gut. He thought he wrote something, he thought he left something – but it looks like he’s still just as good at lying to himself as he was in high school. He doesn’t know what to do – he finally stands on shaky legs, but he can’t keep himself steady in the slightest, and Blaine reaches out to steady him, a hand on his forearm, and another on his back. He has to close his eyes, then, and swallow, because that simple touch sends him reeling and he’s closer to feeling whole than he has been in a long, long time.

“I live right next door. Come on, and we can talk there,” Blaine says, and Kurt can only nod. Blaine hasn’t said anything about a husband or kids, and he looks so worn out, and if he’s living on this side of town – he thought leaving would help. He can’t be vain enough to think he’s wholly responsible, but clearly he didn’t do Blaine the service he thought he did when he went out the door.

They walk to Blaine’s apartment, and he’s supported the whole way by an arm around his waist. He’s completely speechless, and he doesn’t know what to do. He feels like he has one foot in the past, and in the back of his mind, there’s some vague glimmer of hope, so unfamiliar after it’s been gone for so long.

Once they’re seated in the living room on a loveseat, and Blaine has apologized profusely for the mess - even though it looks just the same as Blaine’s side of their bedroom had looked once upon a time – Kurt opens his mouth to speak, without first knowing what he’s going to say. “I didn’t know how to stay. That was the only reason I left. Every day felt like another day you could have been happier, and I couldn’t convince myself to keep holding you back.”

The look in Blaine’s eyes then is simply devastating – it’s some mix of sorrow and confusion and oh God, could there still be love there after seven long years? “Kurt, you were the best thing that ever happened to me. You were what kept me going when I realized just how much work just existing here was going to be – as you can probably tell by the state of things without you, you certainly weren’t holding me back.”

This is all your fault.

The tears start to fall then, and Kurt can’t bring himself to look at Blaine when he tries to reply. “I’m so, so sorry, Blaine. So sorry. So, so, so sorry.” He’s slowly curling into himself, bringing a hand up to his mouth the way he always used to when he was the most upset. He’s sure Blaine can hear the unattractive sobs ripping out of his chest even after he’s muffled them, but he’s not trying to hide them. He’s more vulnerable in this moment than he can ever remember being before.

Blaine moves toward him slowly, like he’ll startle or shatter, and pulls him into an embrace. He wraps his arm around Blaine’s waist in return, and sobs openly into his shoulder, as Blaine makes gentle soothing sounds and runs a hand through Kurt’s hair.

“I’m sorry, too. Maybe if I’d have held on tighter –“

“Blaine, no.” He pulls back just enough to see Blaine’s face, and tears are still rolling down his cheeks. “There was nothing you could have done. I made a mess of everything, I thought… I thought going away would fix it. But obviously, it didn’t, and I know that it’s far too late, but if I could go back, I would have… I would have at least left something to tell you why I left.”

There are tears on Blaine’s face, too, now and he lets his arms slip away from Kurt’s body, and he’s left with an ache where the warmth was only moments before. “Well, that may have made it hurt a little less. I’m sure you’re doing well, now, right?”

Kurt laughs harshly, curling in on himself again, trying to fill the empty hole in his chest, somehow, and failing. “If by doing well you mean living alone in an apartment the size of my old closet and working as a barely paid fashion intern, then sure.”

Confusion furrows Blaine’s brow. “What happened?”

“I wasn’t good enough. I’m barely good enough to compete as a fashion intern – I’m sure I’ll get fired soon enough.”

“That’s a lie.” Kurt’s head snaps up to see a flash of irritation in Blaine’s eyes. “Kurt, you are better than good enough.” Another harsh laugh chokes out of his lungs, but Blaine grabs his wrist roughly, and it cuts him off. “You – you’re not even happy, are you? Why are you doing this to yourself?”

He shakes his head and shrugs a little. “Of course I’m not happy. Any hope for happiness left me a long time ago.”

“I don’t believe you.” He looks up again and meets Blaine’s eyes, and the fierceness in them leaves him a little breathless. “You’re Kurt Hummel. You never let anything stop you, and I know that you haven’t given up.”

A soft sigh escapes his lips. “It feels like I have.” This time, though, he leaves his eyes on Blaine’s, and there’s something like happiness and hope and determination building in his chest again, and the situation is getting so unrealistic at this point he knows he must be dreaming or dead. “But… maybe there’s still time, I guess.” He looks down again, and cold fingers clutch his heart – all of the feelings that have built up over the past seven years creep back in.

This time, rough, calloused fingers grip his chin and tilt his head back up. “There’s plenty of time… Especially if we sort of… Rewind.” Blaine takes a deep breath. “Move in with me. We’ll split the rent with whatever you can afford, and you can sing with me at my gigs and we’ll split the money, and you just promise me that you won’t give up.”

He knows there’s shock on his face. “Blaine-”

“Oh God.” Blaine lets go of him and stands up, pacing back and forth across the small living room and running his hands through his curly hair. “I’m so sorry, I just got caught up, and you’re probably not even single, and even if you were, you probably don’t even want me-”

“Blaine, stop.” He does. “You still… I didn’t even think you would… You don’t mind?”

Suddenly, Blaine is on his knees in front of him, holding both of his hands in a tight grasp. “Of course I don’t mind.” He looks down at their hands then, rubbing his thumbs over Kurt’s knuckles. “Of course I still want you,” he says, answering Kurt’s unfinished statements.

“I still want you, too… But we can’t just rewind like that, Blaine, we’ve changed.”

“Then we can just learn each other all over again.”

The statement sends a chill down Kurt’s spine and Blaine’s eyes are on his, warm with hope and affection, and Kurt’s spent so long feeling so cold. “Alright. Okay. If you’re sure, then… Then we can get my things and bring them here. It shouldn’t take very long…”

“We can get them tomorrow.” Kurt feels his eyes widen as Blaine stands, and he’s pulled up with him, and then they’re locked in a tight, intimate embrace.

“Blaine, it’s been a long time.” He murmurs into the curly hair in front of him, nuzzling into it.

“I know.” The arms around his waist tighten a little, and Blaine noses at his jaw. “I just want to hold you.”

That sounds wonderful, but he’s tingling all over, and his heart is beating double time, and he needs something to ground him, just a little. “Could you… Would you kiss me? Please?”

Blaine pulls back to look at him, and his eyes are still so soft as he leans in and then their lips are meeting, and it feels like maybe they can just rewind, because it feels just the same. The kiss is relatively chaste, almost like the first one they ever shared, and as Kurt pulls back, something in him shifts. He doesn’t quite know what it is, but he knows somehow that things…. Just, things in general are going to be okay.

This may not last. But even as Blaine lays down on the couch with him, tangling their legs and their fingers together, he doesn’t care if he’s dead or he’s dreaming or he wakes up and Blaine left him there, because right here, and right now, this is enough.