November 2012

In the boys locker room, Blaine strips off his shirt, turns it inside out, and takes it to the sink. He turns the cold tap on full (his mother always said never to use hot water when rinsing out a stain) and lets the water run through the fabric, taking some of the paint away in a milky swirl. Not nearly all of it. He doesnt want to have to explain this to his Mom, or throw away the shirt, so—

Blaines first instinct is to call Kurt. Hes trying to let that instinct go, but Kurt would know how to get white paint out of a red polo shirt without damaging the material. But Blaine knows he wont get an answer. Just because hes feeling lighter today, doesnt mean anything has changed for Kurt.

He texts Tina instead. Shell be dealing with her own paint mess, and she knows fabrics and clothes. She texts back her address.

.

Tina answers the door with wet hair pulled into a pony tail. Shes wearing jeans and an oversized gray mens t-shirt. A smudge of white paint remains at her hairline near her ear. She smiles at Blaine cautiously and gestures for him to come in.

The Cohen-Chang house is a sun-filled contemporary design, with vaulted, angled ceilings and enormous windows. Geometric patterned rugs in modern neutrals pave the golden-hued wood floors, glass topped tables shine, and the scent of fresh flowers tickles in Blaines nose. He doesnt let it remind him of Kurt, instead focuses on where he is.

"Hey," Blaine says with a smile. "Thanks for inviting me over." He lifts the plastic bag with his soiled clothes. He is himself in his McKinley Titans gym t-shirt and sweatpants; his hair's still damp at his neck. The clean white of the paint is scrubbed from his cheeks, which still tingle with the memory of Brittanys fingers and her kiss. Its been a strange day. "I definitely need your help," Blaine says.

Tina smiles more brightly. "The laundrys this way," she says. He follows her.

.

Tina mixes up a solution of vinegar, ammonia, and salt, gives Blaine a pair of latex gloves and a microfiber cloth. She dons a pair of gloves too and scoops her green dress from the laundry sink. Then she shows him how to gently scrub the paint stains with the solution. They sit on folded towels on the tile floor. The smell burns in Blaines sinuses ("Are you sure were not gassing ourselves to death?" Blaine jokes) but slowly and with patience, the paint shifts.

.

Their clothes are in the washing machine now, and Tina is boiling the kettle for tea. They stand in the kitchen on opposite sides of a stainless steel topped island. Tina puts a brand new bag of Pepperidge Farm Mint Milano cookies between them and asks Blaine what sort of tea hed like.

"Earl Grey?" Blaine responds. "With honey and milk, please?" Its the way Kurt used to make it for him in the evenings, when it was too late for coffee. She sets the carton of milk, jar of honey, and a spoon next to the bag of cookies. Its not exactly perfunctory, but theres something off there. It makes Blaine wonder if shes missing Mike the way he misses Kurt. If maybe she used to make tea for Mike after school.

"So, um, can I ask you something?" Blaine starts.

"I guess," Tina says. She puts a tea bag in each of two mugs and pours the boiling water over them.

"You dont have to tell me, but I was wondering. Why did you break up with Mike?"

With her lips pressed into a thin line, Tina lowers her attention to dunking her teabag in and out of her mug. In and out, up and down. Then she releases a sigh and the teabag, and says, "I didnt break up with Mike. He broke up with me."

"Oh," Blaine says. Its not what Tina has been telling everyone at school, that she broke up with Mike—no explanation given—but she still loves him. The tension between them during the week of Grease auditions made Blaine wonder, but he didnt consider that shed lied.

"He didnt tell you?" she asks, but continues before Blaine has a chance to reply. "No, of course he didnt. Mike never talks about other people like that. Not even me." She grimaces and looks back up at Blaine. "Surprised?"

"No. I mean, I dont— What happened?"

One should hitches up and Tina tilts her head, glances down again. "Its complicated," she starts. "I think, near the end of the summer, I knew it was coming. As it got closer to him leaving, it felt like we started holding on to each other too tight. Do you know what I mean?"

Blaine reaches for the honey. "Im not sure I do."

"Like we both knew it was over, but neither of us wanted to admit it."

"Oh, okay," Blaine says. He never felt that way with Kurt. If anything, it all felt easier this past summer. Blaine believed it was going to be fine, right up until it wasnt. Or, he wasnt.

"It was... little things," she says. "Like, how we talked about the future. Mike asked his mother to teach me how to cook."

Blaine blinks at her in confusion.

"I went along with it, because it was important to Mike, right? His family is very traditional, and Im really... not. But I thought Id try for him, because I knew it was important to him, to embrace some of those traditions, and I think he still felt like—hed even say sometimes—I wasnt Asian enough. Like, what does that even mean?" She sighs. "I did love him. I do..."

The unspoken but hangs until Blaine has to voice it. "But?"

"At some point, it started to feel like he wanted me to be more like her? Dont get me wrong, Mikes Mom is amazing. I adore her, but Im not like her. I dont want to be, and, god, I didnt want it to be like that with Mike. We fought about it." Tina lifts her tea bag out of her mug and squeezes it against her spoon. "I hate cooking, Blaine," Tina says. And then she grins, a little wildly, like shes just confessed some huge and necessary secret.

The grin is contagious, and they share it for a while. Tina opens the bag of cookies and fishes out the top paper wrapper, takes two cookies, and pushes it closer to Blaine.

"Kurt was teaching me how to cook," Blaine says and takes a cookie. "It was actually pretty fun, cooking with him. I miss it a lot."

With a scowl, Tina looks at him as she chews. She swallows and asks him, "So why dont you call him?"

Blaine nods as he turns over his own confession in his mind. He told Sam, and that was okay—a relief even. "I do call him," Blaine says quietly. "I call him every day."

"Then—?"

"He doesnt answer," Blaine says. "He never does."

Blaine didnt cry in front of Sam, but the burn welling up in his eyes now, he cant contain. He bows his head and wipes at his face, tries to blink back the tears and keep his breath from shuddering; he fails.

"Blaine," Tina says, and then shes moving around the island and putting her hands, warm but uncertain, on his shoulders, turning him toward her. Pulling him toward her into an awkward embrace. Its not quite a hug—theyre both too stiff, this is too new and strange, they dont really know each other or how to fit—but, its... nice.

"Its okay," Tina says, and her voice is more certain than her arms. Blaine leans into her more, absorbs the heat of her body, inhales the herbal scent of shampoo lingering in her hair along with the chemical scents of the laundry that cling more subtly to her clothes. Her caring, human presence, its not the anchor Kurt used to be, but its enough in this moment. He relaxes, lets himself cry, and she gathers him closer, and tells him again, firmly. "Its okay, Blaine."

Theyre the same words he tells himself, repeated like a mantra, late at night, when he cant sleep and hope feels pointless. But its also the first time since he's lost Kurt that anyone else has spoken those words to him. This time, hearing them from Tina, on a day thats been unusually full of other peoples care, maybe he can believe it.