Etesia
May 16, 2012, 10:49 a.m.
Whisper Devotions into the Dark of Night
Somehow they make it through most of the summer before the inevitable breakdown'just the knowledge that they will soon be in different states is already tearing them apart. Kurt and Blaine struggle to deal with Kurt's upcoming move to New York
M - Words: 1,218 - Last Updated: May 16, 2012 311 0 1 1 Categories: Angst, General, Characters: Blaine Anderson, Kurt Hummel, Tags: established relationship,
Author's Notes: I'm not entirely sure where this came from, but I wanted to play with the notion of Kurt and Blaine's relationship becoming increasingly emotionally distant because they're scared of what will happen when they're physically far apart. Somewhat of a writing experiment, but I kind of like how it turned out. Obviously I own nothing.
Somehow they make it through most of the summer before the inevitable breakdown. When it finally hits it suddenly becomes obvious that they have been lying to themselves in the long weeks since graduation. It hasn’t mattered how stable their relationship seemed, and how much they made it clear all those weeks ago that they wanted their relationship to work—just the knowledge that they will soon be in different states is already tearing them apart. They barely connect anymore; conversations shallow, dates little more than token displays of their still official relationship status. Physicality has all but disappeared from their relationship; easy hand holding and long, heated sessions of kissing replaced by stilted, awkward caresses and unsatisfying, detached sexual encounters.
It isn’t until mid-August that they realize what they have been doing. Kurt is leaving for New York in barely four days, and they have one night where the Hummel-Hudson house is empty and Kurt has been left housesitting with a not so subtle comment from Burt about it being a chance to “say a proper goodbye” to his boyfriend. Kurt had felt emotionless as he had confirmed the plan with Blaine, their text messages holding no tone of either excitement or sadness.
That night they continue going through the motions as they have done for two months. Kurt cooks something spectacular for dinner, and they both pick at their plates, peppering the strained silence with the occasional comment or superficial observation. They watch a movie, sitting a careful distance apart—a distance that has been practiced all summer, specifically designed to leave them not actually touching, but close enough together that Finn does not feel the need to comment out loud on their unusual physical distance on the couch. They used to be all sprawling, overlapping limbs, stolen kisses, and whispered conversation no matter who else was watching tv with them, but they’ve hardly managed to make eye contact these last weeks, and though they’ve cultivated a careful fa�ade neither pretends that anyone can have missed the shift in their relationship.
When the movie ends (Kurt can’t remember what movie it even was, and truly does not care), the boys move towards the stairs and up towards Kurt’s room, acting as though from a script and without any real commitment to the scene. Blaine perches himself on the edge of the bed, and Kurt plugs in his iPod to play music throughout the room. They never needed music for intimacy before; it had always served as background to their own interactions, a murmur of noise under a conversation or something to sing along to as they sat comfortably together doing homework—a nice addition but not necessary. Now it serves to save them from the silence, provides them an out when conversation became something more than superficial.
Kurt hates it.
Without hope of real conversation they jump straight to the end, Kurt climbing awkwardly onto the bed alongside Blaine so that they can press their lips together and pretend. It takes only moments before they are both stripping off shirts and pants, almost desperate to do what they feel they are supposed to do, what everyone expects them to do on their last night in an empty house before Kurt moves away.
Blaine is spread naked against Kurt’s sheets as Kurt works fingers into him, free hand absently stroking the muscles of Blaine’s stomach, or his mostly hard cock. It feels like work for both of them. By the time Kurt finally pushes into Blaine they are both past ready for it to be over so that they can stop pretending that it means any of what it once did. Despite their reticence, they’re both hard from the friction and the sight of each other (they’ve been drifting apart, but they’re still in love, and they are definitely still physically attracted to one another), and it doesn’t take much before they are grunting out cursory sounds of pleasure.
Kurt is close, and Blaine suddenly can’t take it any longer. He can’t bear to think that in a few days he won’t be able to hold Kurt, or kiss him, or listen to his snarky comments about a movie, or one of Rachel’s outfits. He can’t handle that this might be the last time he touches Kurt (possibly ever at the rate their relationship has been going) or that they won’t be able to have more carefree nights like this one was meant to be.
He can’t imagine why they have been wasting all this time, and he cannot stop the tears that spill from his eyes or the whimper that falls from his lips.
Kurt stops moving, Blaine’s sudden tears a startling contrast to the emotionless way they have been drifting through summer. “Blaine?” Kurt’s hand moves without conscious thought, wiping away the tears that are working themselves towards Blaine’s hairline. “Baby, what’s wrong?” Blaine whimpers again, eyes huge and tear-shiny, breath stuttering at Kurt’s words—at the casual endearment—before he drags Kurt close by the back of his neck and kisses him breathless. When they separate they are both panting, foreheads still pressed close, hot breath shared between them.
“Why are we doing this Kurt?” He sounds so broken, and Kurt can’t stand it, his own eyes flooding with tears and heart surging with emotions he has not let himself express. He kisses Blaine again, and then pulls back gently to look into his boyfriend’s eyes and pet at his jaw. Kurt doesn’t have any words to answer Blaine’s question. “I don’t know.” Blaine closes his eyes for a long moment; his dark lashes damp triangles against flush cheeks. “I miss you,” he says, and Kurt’s heart aches for them both. For the distance they have put between themselves without meaning to, and for the distance that will be put between them by necessity for the next eight months. “I’m here now. We’re here.” Blaine nods, eyes never leaving Kurt’s.
This time when Kurt leans in to kiss him they shift together where Kurt is still inside of him and Blaine keens loudly. “Please Kurt.” Blaine is begging and Kurt is making soothing sounds and canting his hips just right. “Shh Blaine, it’s ok. We’re here, I’ve got you.” It is nothing like earlier or anything like their few attempts at sex over the last six weeks, clinical and disjointed. Everything is emotion and connection, sloppy kisses and frantic, loving words. When they come it is as close to at the same time as they have ever managed.
They lie together in the aftermath, sweat-sticky and tangled together, Kurt’s head pillowed on Blaine’s chest and fingers running across muscle and fine, dark hair. “I love you.” Blaine smiles at the words, and tugs Kurt just a little bit closer. “I love you too. So much.”
There is a lot of talking to do in order to make up for the summer; plans to discuss, and a fair amount of mutual apologizing left to do. Now is not the time for that. Later they will lose themselves in each other (repeatedly), and in the morning they will drink coffee while they make plans for the present, and see if they can salvage the future they had once planned. For now though, they hold on tightly and whisper devotions into the dark of night, hoping that they aren’t making promises they cannot keep.
It isn’t until mid-August that they realize what they have been doing. Kurt is leaving for New York in barely four days, and they have one night where the Hummel-Hudson house is empty and Kurt has been left housesitting with a not so subtle comment from Burt about it being a chance to “say a proper goodbye” to his boyfriend. Kurt had felt emotionless as he had confirmed the plan with Blaine, their text messages holding no tone of either excitement or sadness.
That night they continue going through the motions as they have done for two months. Kurt cooks something spectacular for dinner, and they both pick at their plates, peppering the strained silence with the occasional comment or superficial observation. They watch a movie, sitting a careful distance apart—a distance that has been practiced all summer, specifically designed to leave them not actually touching, but close enough together that Finn does not feel the need to comment out loud on their unusual physical distance on the couch. They used to be all sprawling, overlapping limbs, stolen kisses, and whispered conversation no matter who else was watching tv with them, but they’ve hardly managed to make eye contact these last weeks, and though they’ve cultivated a careful fa�ade neither pretends that anyone can have missed the shift in their relationship.
When the movie ends (Kurt can’t remember what movie it even was, and truly does not care), the boys move towards the stairs and up towards Kurt’s room, acting as though from a script and without any real commitment to the scene. Blaine perches himself on the edge of the bed, and Kurt plugs in his iPod to play music throughout the room. They never needed music for intimacy before; it had always served as background to their own interactions, a murmur of noise under a conversation or something to sing along to as they sat comfortably together doing homework—a nice addition but not necessary. Now it serves to save them from the silence, provides them an out when conversation became something more than superficial.
Kurt hates it.
Without hope of real conversation they jump straight to the end, Kurt climbing awkwardly onto the bed alongside Blaine so that they can press their lips together and pretend. It takes only moments before they are both stripping off shirts and pants, almost desperate to do what they feel they are supposed to do, what everyone expects them to do on their last night in an empty house before Kurt moves away.
Blaine is spread naked against Kurt’s sheets as Kurt works fingers into him, free hand absently stroking the muscles of Blaine’s stomach, or his mostly hard cock. It feels like work for both of them. By the time Kurt finally pushes into Blaine they are both past ready for it to be over so that they can stop pretending that it means any of what it once did. Despite their reticence, they’re both hard from the friction and the sight of each other (they’ve been drifting apart, but they’re still in love, and they are definitely still physically attracted to one another), and it doesn’t take much before they are grunting out cursory sounds of pleasure.
Kurt is close, and Blaine suddenly can’t take it any longer. He can’t bear to think that in a few days he won’t be able to hold Kurt, or kiss him, or listen to his snarky comments about a movie, or one of Rachel’s outfits. He can’t handle that this might be the last time he touches Kurt (possibly ever at the rate their relationship has been going) or that they won’t be able to have more carefree nights like this one was meant to be.
He can’t imagine why they have been wasting all this time, and he cannot stop the tears that spill from his eyes or the whimper that falls from his lips.
Kurt stops moving, Blaine’s sudden tears a startling contrast to the emotionless way they have been drifting through summer. “Blaine?” Kurt’s hand moves without conscious thought, wiping away the tears that are working themselves towards Blaine’s hairline. “Baby, what’s wrong?” Blaine whimpers again, eyes huge and tear-shiny, breath stuttering at Kurt’s words—at the casual endearment—before he drags Kurt close by the back of his neck and kisses him breathless. When they separate they are both panting, foreheads still pressed close, hot breath shared between them.
“Why are we doing this Kurt?” He sounds so broken, and Kurt can’t stand it, his own eyes flooding with tears and heart surging with emotions he has not let himself express. He kisses Blaine again, and then pulls back gently to look into his boyfriend’s eyes and pet at his jaw. Kurt doesn’t have any words to answer Blaine’s question. “I don’t know.” Blaine closes his eyes for a long moment; his dark lashes damp triangles against flush cheeks. “I miss you,” he says, and Kurt’s heart aches for them both. For the distance they have put between themselves without meaning to, and for the distance that will be put between them by necessity for the next eight months. “I’m here now. We’re here.” Blaine nods, eyes never leaving Kurt’s.
This time when Kurt leans in to kiss him they shift together where Kurt is still inside of him and Blaine keens loudly. “Please Kurt.” Blaine is begging and Kurt is making soothing sounds and canting his hips just right. “Shh Blaine, it’s ok. We’re here, I’ve got you.” It is nothing like earlier or anything like their few attempts at sex over the last six weeks, clinical and disjointed. Everything is emotion and connection, sloppy kisses and frantic, loving words. When they come it is as close to at the same time as they have ever managed.
They lie together in the aftermath, sweat-sticky and tangled together, Kurt’s head pillowed on Blaine’s chest and fingers running across muscle and fine, dark hair. “I love you.” Blaine smiles at the words, and tugs Kurt just a little bit closer. “I love you too. So much.”
There is a lot of talking to do in order to make up for the summer; plans to discuss, and a fair amount of mutual apologizing left to do. Now is not the time for that. Later they will lose themselves in each other (repeatedly), and in the morning they will drink coffee while they make plans for the present, and see if they can salvage the future they had once planned. For now though, they hold on tightly and whisper devotions into the dark of night, hoping that they aren’t making promises they cannot keep.