The landing gear touches down with a terminal double thud that reverberates in the freshly carved space within Blaines chest. Hes back in Ohio, and its done.

Blaine texts Kurt shortly after the plane lands, as soon as the flight attendant tells them they may use their cell phones. The distance yawns deep and pulls taught between here and New York, where he left his heart. It may be still attached to him, but barely. Its up to Kurt to sever whatever strand of affection may yet bind them; Blaine has done enough damage. He isnt hopeful that Kurt wont, for hope in the aftermath of telling Kurt, its... He doesnt know what it is.

Kurt doesnt reply to his text, but then Blaine doesnt expect him to. He cant expect something just because he wants it. At least silence is better than some other things; Blaine tries to convince himself.

His bag feels like its twenty pounds heavier when he hauls it out of the overhead compartment. He nearly clocks himself in the head.

His mother meets him. Blaine didnt expect her to, thought he would be getting a cab home.

As she greets him, her smile is as it always is, familiar and a little forced, as if shes still not sure if shes meant to smile at him. Hes never understood it, but hes grateful to see her.

"Hi, Mom," Blaine says.

She cocks her head, her smile turning to a moue of concern. "You had a good flight?"

"Yes."

She fusses uselessly with the collar of his cardigan and blinks rapidly. He knows how she worries when he flies. "This gray doesnt suit you, darling. It makes you look tired."

"I am tired," Blaine says. Her eyebrows draw together just enough to make a line, but she doesnt respond as she turns toward the direction of the escalator. Hes grateful for her lack of inquiry, even as a bitterness spreads on the back of his tongue. She has no idea, and he cant tell her whats happened, because then hell have to tell her why, and--

"Hows Kurt?" she asks, more brightly now, walking half a step ahead of him and glancing back over her shoulder.

Shes fond of Kurt; he definitely cant tell her what he did. "Um," Blaine starts. "Hes enjoying working at Vogue dot com," Blaine replies. "His boss thinks he has a promising future there."

"Thats wonderful to hear," his mother says. "Im sure youre proud of him."

"Yes, of course," Blaine says. He slips his fingertips into his pocket to touch the silent stillness of his phone. He forgot to tell Kurt.

.

In the car, Blaine sends Kurt another text: "There are some things I wanted to say to you before I left but I didnt get the chance. Can we talk?" His fingers twitch wanting to add another Im sorry or please try to forgive me but he leaves it at that. All the way home, his phone rests in his hand, lifeless.

.

On the way home, his mother stops at Baskin Robbins and buys him an ice cream. They sit in the car and listen to NPR as they eat them, and it reminds Blaine of how shed always stop for ice cream after his dressage lessons when he was young. Sometimes it meant they got home late, which his Dad didnt like. She catches his eye now and smiles at him, this time more easily and a little bit impishly, as if theyre misbehaving to do this again. Its nice. Blaine smiles back and enjoys his ice cream.

.

After dinner, Blaine goes straight up to his room. He tries calling Kurt again. He still doesnt know the exact words for what he wants to say, just that he needs to say something. It goes to voicemail. The message he leaves is simple, "Its me, Kurt. I... hope youre okay even though I know youre probably not. I am so sorry. Please call me whenever you can." He doesnt say, I love you or I miss you or Please forgive me or I hate the way I left things between us or I hate what I did or...

Blaine changes into his pajamas and climbs into bed. His sheets are clean, changed today. They smell fresh, of sunshine and autumn air. Hes grateful for that small thing. Its not even nine oclock, but he is done with being conscious today. He tucks his phone under his pillow.

.

He wakes up around two AM and cant get back to sleep. His mind is a theater playing a montage of personal failure. To distract himself--or to vainly seek some sign of absolution--Blaine checks his phone for new messages. But theres nothing. He types a new text to Kurt, sends it before he can censor himself. "I understand if you hate me now. Its okay if you do. You should."

Then adds, "I hope you know how sorry I am." The words look useless on his screen, but he sends them anyway. And then adds. "I love you so much."
.

The next day, Finn is in the choir room after school, and Blaine is glad to see him. It brings back a small portion of last year when the choir room had begun to feel like family. Blaine tries to talk to him, because Finn doesnt seem to hate him. Just asks him questions Blaine isnt sure how to answer. Then everyone else comes in and theres no point trying to answer. Theyre so happy to see Finn. Blaine climbs the risers and sits down in the back corner. Kurts absence lingers.

Theyre going to do "Grease" for the musical this year. Its a great idea, and Blaine tries to summon some enthusiasm since Danny Zuko is a great role.

.

If Blaine thought the silence from Kurt was suffocating him before; its strangling him now. There are moments when he sits on the edge of the bed, his unresponsive phone clenched in his hand, feeling like his skin is about to tear open, his brain will collapse, and his heart will simply shudder to a halt. He throws the phone across the room and discovers Gorilla Glass really is that strong.

He lies back and curses himself. Wishes for a moment he could escape his own skin and his own mind. Trapped in his reality, the person he is. He doesnt want to be himself.

He tries to breathe, like Cooper taught him back when he was trying to teach Blaine yoga. One hand on his diaphragm, one hand over his heart, he closes his eyes, and remembers Cooper trying to explain to him how life is a river, from one moment to the next, it changes. Mutability is reality; permanence is the illusion. So maybe hes not the same person today that he was when he lost his faith in Kurt. Maybe he can escape his own self somehow. The version of himself that cheated is dead and gone, and hes born new in every heartbeat. He gets to choose who he is now, unbound from the past.

Itd be comforting if he believed it, but he doesnt. He cant absolve himself so easily when Kurt still hurts and cant forgive him.

.

At school and at home, Blaine goes through the motions like the talented actor he is. Hes been doing variations of it for so long, theres enough muscle memory and momentum to carry him through dragging himself out of bed, showering, doing his hair, putting on an outfit—many of which are repeats, for he cannot summon the interest or energy to put together anything new. Its not like Kurt--

(Stop. Take a breath.)

Its not like theres anyone at school hes dressing for, and some of the familiar combinations remind him of better days.

So Blaine goes to his classes; he smiles at the people at whom he is meant to smile. Sits next to the people next to whom he is meant to sit. He makes small talk, offers sympathy for others troubles, and he doesnt flinch when Brittany calls him Blaine Warbler. He answers his teachers questions correctly when he is called upon. Does a problem from his Calculus homework on the board, gets praised for his neat and thorough work, and doesnt really care today.

Sitting in his car after class, he calls Kurt and leaves voicemail: "Hi, Kurt. I just wanted to tell you, I love you. I guess youre not ready to talk yet? Um. Thats okay. I... I mean. I wish we could talk. Therere some things I need you to know. But we can talk about anything. I just miss you. Im so sorry. I didnt mean to hurt you. I hope you know that."

No reply comes.

When he gets home from school, on the kitchen table, at his place, is sitting a familiar parcel. He mailed it last week. The addressee is covered with a taped on piece of paper, upon which Blaine recognizes Kurts handwriting in large, black block letters: RETURN TO SENDER. Its their Gilmore Girls DVD set he sent to Kurt as proof of his apology. Theyd bought them together at the Borders in the Mall, gone halves on them, so the DVDs belonged to them, to their relationship. He thought sending them would be a gesture to show Kurt theyre still connected.

Kurt didnt want them.
.

He misses Kurt more than ever. He picks at his lunch with Brittany, who talks about how she misses Santana, but its completely different for him, and he doesnt know how to explain that to her, so he doesnt try. Most of his food ends up in the garbage.

.

Finn and Artie want him to play Danny Zuko. Blaine knows he should, and the role is his if he wants it. But how can he? Sam tells him everyones been through this, so Blaine sucks it up and he tries. He auditions; its expected. He chooses to sing a Sandy song, dedicates it in his heart to Kurt. But he shouldnt be on that stage. Everything feels like a lie. He cant be Danny Zuko. He disappoints his friends, but it seems the smaller hurt. He offers to play Teen Angel instead, and hopes that will be enough.

.

Miss Pillsbury stops him in the hall one afternoon. Invites him to come talk to her any time he wants. She hands him a pamphlet and smiles at him with her wide doleful eyes. He expects it to be either the So Youre a Two-timing Ho? one or the So You Look Like Crap? one, but its neither. Its titled Im Too Depressed to Even Open This Pamphlet. Blaine laughs humorlessly, but he takes the pamphlet. He doesnt, in the finish, open it.

.

Blaine texts Kurt every day: morning and noon. He calls every night before he goes to bed. Days pass and he doesnt get a reply. Finn tells him Kurt says hes busy with work, still planning to reapply to NYADA. Thats all Finn will tell him.

At home he goes to the basement and punches the heavy bag until his arms and hands rage in agony, and hes exhausted. But he still cant sleep. The next day he has to use his shoulder to push the doors open at school. No one notices. He doesnt feel better, but at least its a pain that hes used to.

.

He continues to text Kurt, to say good morning and wish him a good day, to tell him hes thinking of him and missing him; and again in the evening to say good night and that he hopes Kurts had a good day, that his work is going well, and Blaine misses talking to him, but he wont call again until Kurt asks him to. Sometimes he reminds Kurt that he is still sorry, asks for a forgiveness he probably doesnt deserve, but for Kurt, he will wait forever if he needs to.

The last thing Blaine does every night is send Kurt an "I love you." Because he does. There are few things in his life Blaine is certain of, but that one is clear and true in a way he wishes it had been on the day he broke everything. But it wasnt, and he screwed up. Perhaps it was inevitable. Sometimes Blaine wishes he had never turned around that day on the stairs (but then he chokes at the thought of not having had Kurt in his life at all), or that he had never confessed his feelings to Kurt in the common room. Theyd still be friends, and that would be better than what they are now, which increasingly looks like nothing at all.

Nights are the worst. Any time hes alone has the potential to be bad, but theres something about the small hours when he cant sleep. Some nights he feels empty. Those are the nights he cries, feeling the doom of his life settling around him, that this is all there is, this hollow ache, this isolation, that he will remain like this forever. Hell never be able to fix things with Kurt and no one else will ever love him the way Kurt did and Kurt will never love him that way again.

Other nights, its more of an itch, an ache, a desperation to fill that void in any way he can. The suffocating need of it fills him, leaves him with that feeling that his body will come apart if he doesnt find some satisfaction, something to ease the terrible desire for something, anything, anyone... Just someone to want him, to look at him and see him, to smile at him, to touch him with kindness. To help him breathe. But he knows that anyone wont work.

He jerks off, its all he can think to do. It eases the ache while hes doing it, so sometimes he tries to draw it out. Sometimes he looks at porn. He tries not to think too much about Kurt. Because when he does--thoughtlessly, like his libidos imagination has its own habits and momentum--it turns so quickly from fantasy to memory, and then he cant breathe at all and has to stop.

He tries even harder to not think about Eli. But his mind betrays him and sometimes he does think of Eli--remembers Eli--and that makes him sink into self-loathing and nauseating helpless anger. So sometimes he creeps silently downstairs, down to the basement to the heavy bag so he can unload it. Either way, afterward, no matter how good the orgasm, or how hard he punches, its never better for long; hes just more tired, more sore. Sometimes he just feels dirty and wrong, like theres something horribly malfunctioning within him, but at least, for a little while, he feels something to override the fear and despair.

.

Its past noon on a Saturday when his mother comes into his room with a large mug of coffee. She sits at the foot of his bed, straight and nervous, wakes him gently and asks him if hes all right. Shes beginning to worry about him. He tells her he just misses Kurt and school is taking a lot of energy; hes working on the musical and his college applications. He has clubs and student council. AP History is tedious and has a lot of reading, Hes writing a paper for that and his English creative writing assignment. Hes got a Calculus test on Tuesday. And, of course, Sectionals are coming up, that sort of thing. Its just a lot of things all at once.

Its all true enough, if hes content to elide much of the detail. He tells her its nothing to worry about. He smiles. She smiles back, relieved, and accepts his explanation. She stands and heads to the door.

"Wait. Mom?" he calls out to her, abruptly. A confession crowds up on his tongue: I hurt Kurt really badly. I did something so stupid and so wrong and I cant undo it, and now he wont talk to me. I think weve broken up, but I dont know for sure. I miss him, and he wont talk to me. Hes my best friend and we were supposed to grow old together. We were already planning our wedding and our retirement. And now hes gone and I dont know what to do. Im scared he hates me. Im scared that Ive lost him forever. I dont know what to do.

"Yes?" she asks, expectant and concerned—and maybe little bit afraid of what he might say.

So he swallows it all down, smiles and says, "Thank you for the coffee."