The chilled winter air nipped at Blaine's cheeks as he glided across the rink, and Kurt wasn't far off, crossing the path Blaine's skates left in the ice.  When they were dating, they had always talked about spending a day ice skating together, but there were parties to attend and friends to see and bad weather popping up and suddenly winter had passed and the idea was left with a "there's always next year."  But then next year had arrived and here they were, ice skating together, and Blaine couldn't help but wish that they had gone last year before the air between them got a little too sour.

But he couldn't go back to last year, so Blaine just let himself enjoy their duet and try his hardest not to think about everything that had gone wrong.  He didn't think about the Kurt-shaped hole left in his life when his boyfriend moved away, and he didn't think about the tears that stung his eyes when Kurt ignored his call and the first time he said "I love you" and he didn't hear anything back.  He didn't think about the unfamiliar feeling of another man's hands along his skin and the shattered look on Kurt's face when Blaine told him what he'd done.  Instead, he just enjoyed the cool winter air and Kurt's easy smile as they weaved around each other, singing about a White Christmas.

Eventually, however, their song ended, and Blaine wasn't ready for the magic to fall away.  He glided over to Kurt's side and laid a hand on Kurt's arm, bringing them both to a halt.  Blaine took a moment to remove the glove from his left hand, flexing his fingers while they adjusted to the cold.  Then he ran a finger along the edge of the glove on Kurt's right hand and pulled it off as well.  He met Kurt's confused stare with what he hoped was confidence, and slid his bare hand into Kurt's and latched their fingers together.  It was silly to take their gloves off, but something in Blaine just needed to feel Kurt's bare skin against his own.  A shy smile played on Kurt's cold, pale lips.  Blaine watched those lips and thought about how much wanted to forget everything but unique, wonderful sensation of those perfect, kissable lips.  With his hand still clasped in Kurt's, he pulled them together until their breaths mixed, and Blaine could feel the warmth of the other boy's exhales.

He waited for Kurt to blink, turn away, and shake his head in rejection.  But Kurt didn't move; he let Blaine move closer until their lips came together for the first time in months.  For an infinite moment, he cherished the smooth way their dry lips slid together, basking in the ecstasy he thought he would never feel again.

Torn from his pleasant dream, Blaine nearly fell off the couch before remembering where he was.  He pulled a blanket around himself and looked around, reorienting himself with Kurt's apartment.  Burt's quiet snores were coming from Kurt's bed and muffled noises of travelling cars came from outside the window that gave a glimpse of the dark night sky.  What caught his attention, though, was the sniffle and cough that came from Rachel's bed where Kurt was supposed to be sleeping.  He waited for another sound, and something that sounded like a stifled sob escaped from the corner.

Moving slowly, so as not to make any noise, Blaine walked over to Rachel's corner, the blanket still hanging off his shoulders.  He found Kurt sitting upright with his legs crossed at the foot of Rachel's bed, elbows resting on his knees and fingers pushing into his temples so hard his forearms shook.

Part of Blaine wanted to walk back to the couch and pretend he never saw anything, but the louder, more obnoxious part wouldn't let him go. He knew that this could make things weird and that Kurt probably didn't want Blaine to see him like this, but he also knew that he would regret not doing something if he walked away.

"Kurt?"

The boy jumped a bit at the sound of his name, scrambling to wipe his eyes and push his hair back before looking up.

"Blaine?"

Blaine wrung his hands as he spoke and tried not to get distracted by Kurt's obviously red nose and puffy eyes.  "Are you okay?  I thought I heard you crying."  He said.

Kurt's eyes widened.  "Oh, sorry, did I wake you up?"

Blaine shook his head.  "No, no, I woke up on my own, don't worry about it.  Are you okay, though?"

"Um..." Kurt paused for a moment and shifted uncomfortably on the bed, and spoke in  what was nearly a whimper. "No."

I promised I would be there for him.  "Do you wanna talk about it?"

Kurt blinked, but didn't answer.  Instead, he just said, "It takes four years to graduate from college."

Blaine lowered himself onto the bed across from Kurt and watched as the boy held back his tears; he remained quiet to let Kurt speak.

"For Christmas, I gave my dad NYADA merchandise.  A hat and a t-shirt.  Not the most attractive pieces I've seen, but I knew he would like them."  He sighed, relaxing just a little before continuing.  "In my entire life, NYADA has been my most impressive feat, and I'm going to have to wait four years to have anything to show for it.  If I get anything to show for it, since Rachel told me some girl got cut on the first day of school."

At this point, Blaine spoke up.  "Kurt, Carmen trusted you to sing at her sacred Winter Showcase.  You're not going to get cut."

"But you don't know that."  Kurt replied with a shaky voice, and tears started to drip down his cheeks again.  "No one knows anything that's going to happen.  My life has barely even begun, Blaine.  All that stuff that parents brag about their kids doing: graduating from a  good college, getting a good job, starting a family, that's all stuff that's starting just now, and..." Kurt stopped.  He looked straight at Blaine with bloodshot eyes brimming with more tears.  "And right now, I'm just some boring little kid who's lived 19 years with nothing special to show for it, and now, before I can make anything of myself,"  Kurt's hands, which he had been gesturing with up until now, began to shake. "my dad has prostate cancer."  

The two froze for a moment, and then Kurt fell into Blaine's arms, clutched the fabric of Blaine's t-shirt, buried his wet eyes in the crook of Blaine's neck, and, for Kurt's sake, Blaine held him tight and forgot about the sour air between them.  His mind lingered on the soft feeling of Kurt's cold fingers curled around his ribs, the warmth of his heaving chest against Blaine's own, and the soft vibrations Blaine could feel in his friend's back as Kurt let quiet sobs escape him.  A sad smile broke out on Blaine's lips as he thought about how this foreign apartment in New York, hundreds of mileds away from his house, suddenly felt like home.

When Blaine tried to speak, he realized that he had started to tear up as well, so he pulled away from Kurt to regain his own composition, although he kept his hands resting softly on Kurt's sides.

"Kurt, you are not just a kid.  You are the most strong, brave, and inspiring man that I have ever met, and you have given your father countless reasons to be proud of you."  Kurt opened his mouth to protest, but Blaine ignored it.  "Just by being here, you've done what hardly any of the folks from Lima ever accomplish.  You made it out.  You spent years with people telling you that the way you are is wrong, and that you weren't good enough, and that you were just another Lima loser, but you never let them stop you.  Even at their worst, no one could bring down Kurt Hummel.  And now you're here, the artistic capital of the country, with an internship at Vogue.com and acceptance to one of the best musical theater schools in the country.  And you got all this just by being pure, 100% Kurt Hummel.  You're amazing, Kurt, and even if you tell yourself that you're not good enough, I know you're just going to prove that wrong again."

Blaine took a deep breath and stopped.  He kept his hands steady on Kurt's waist, his fingers trembling ever so slightly on the fabric of Kurt's shirt.  There was a moment of relative silence between them with Blaine's words hanging in the air, waiting for a response.  He meant everything he said, and his heart ached at the thought that Kurt didn't see all of that in himself.

When the other boy finally spoke, it was only a whisper, so soft Blaine could hardly hear it, but at the same time delivered with a brief clarity that left no room for misinterpretation.

"Thank you."

Blaine nodded.  He trailed his hands off of Kurt and moved to go back to the couch, but Kurt held him back with a tentative grip on the wrist.

"Can you stay?"  He asked, a blush creeping onto his cheeks.  "Um, just for the night."

Blaine paused to process the message.  Kurt wants to fall asleep with me.  He had to hold back a smile.

"Of course."

Kurt wanted to sleep above the covers, claiming that they smelled like Rachel's perfume.  (Blaine thought the whole apartment smelled of it, but he didn't bother to mention it.)  So when they laid down on the comforter, Blaine wrapped his blanket around the both of them.  As soon as they were covered, hidden from the room and the rest of the world, Kurt curled into Blaine's side and laid his head on Blaine's chest while Blaine wrapped his arms around the boy, tracing senseless patterns across his back.  The room grew calm as the sounds of the boys' rhythmic, overlapped breathing filled the room, steady, quiet, and somehow more overwhelming that all the sounds of their New York background.