It was worse than regret, at least in Kurt’s mind.  Because with regret, it wasn’t such an overwhelming, crushing sense of despair.  With regret, it’s self-pity, it’s being sorry for being caught, not for the action itself.  Regret was something to feel years from the incident itself.  Regret was too easy; regret was being let off the hook.

            Remorse…that’s a whole different story.  Remorse felt all encompassing.  It washed over him, consuming him and drowning him in guilt, frustration, exhaustion and disappointment.  He let himself do this; he could have easily stopped it, but he was stupidly drunk and stupidly horny and managed to fuck it all up with one indiscretion.

            Remorse was what brought Kurt to his knees, sobbing and shaking as he pleaded with Blaine not to leave.  It was what broke him into pieces as Blaine kissed him goodbye forever, slamming their apartment door on his way out, the promise ring he had pulled from his hand still clanking a bit as it slowly stops spinning where he threw it on the floor.

            Remorse pulled Kurt from paradise, wrapping him in a caccoon of deep depression for a month, before slowly peeling off and allowing him to breathe again, bit by bit.

            And years later, when he receives Blaine’s wedding invitation in the mail, remorse is what throbs in his chest, grounding him and making him whole once more.