Aug. 3, 2012, 10:34 a.m.
It Hurts to Sing
They broke up a while ago, though Blaine can't say exactly when. He only remembers how it happened - how Kurt tasted a little like coffee and a lot like broken promises.
T - Words: 1,027 - Last Updated: Aug 03, 2012 591 0 0 2 Categories: Angst, Characters: Blaine Anderson, Kurt Hummel, Tags: OMG CREYS,
Blaine's first thought when he walks into the Lima Bean that day is that it's cold.
He moves quickly through the line, offering the barista a smile that probably doesn't reach his eyes before pulling away from the counter and moving towards a familiar table.
This is going to be my last time sitting here, he thinks. Hell, this might even be the last time I come here.
He sits down, not even wincing, and takes a greedy chug of caffeine.
Blaine Anderson has always been strong.
When he very blatantly told his first kiss that he liked penis and she socked him hard in the jaw, when he came out to his father and was told to change if he ever wanted to be loved, when some random kid on the street threw that rock at his skull and he needed twenty-three stitches, when he and his date were dragged from that Sadie Hawkins dance and knocked unconscious (and he still has the scars, can point out every one), when he met Sebastian and pushed away from Kurt - for the first time since they'd met - in that parking lot, when Cooper came to town and spun everything upside-down, when he found the messages from Chandler on Kurt's phone...
And, more recently, when Kurt broke his heart.
Regardless of how bad or painful the experience had been, Blaine had refused to cry - to break down. If growing up in the Anderson household had taught him anything, it was never to show weakness.
But now, with coffee clogging his pores and spinning through his veins, Blaine Anderson thinks he might just lose it.
The break-up had been quiet, calm, and not completely un-mutual.
There was no fighting, begging, or crying, though they didn't smile and their eyes did burn.
They sat across from each other, just like always, coffee in hand.
And then, they talked.
About McKinley, about New York, about Finn and Rachel. They talked about Kurt's dreams and the opportunity that had opened up at Vogue, and about Blaine and all of his possible college opportunities.
Kurt was wearing a light blue button-down, sleeves rolled at the elbow. Blaine remembers thinking his eyes were more brilliant than usual because of it, more blue that blue-green.
He remembers thinking it wasn't fair.
"I'm not abandoning you," Kurt had said earnestly, and his voice was heavy with just how much he'd meant it. "I will never abandon you."
I'll never say goodbye to you.
"I just..." Blaine watched Kurt bite his lip, tried to keep his lungs from caving in. "I think we need a break."
Why? For how long? Does this have to do with Chandler? You can't love someone else, Kurt. You can't kiss or touch or...It would kill me. Please.
But Blaine had said none of that.
Because honestly, some of Kurt's thoughts had been his own.
This next year was bound to be busy, and their futures were at stake. As easy as it would have been just to give up and run away together, it just wasn't an option they could afford.
Their dreams were, and are, simply too big.
"I love you so much," Kurt said, and he had to look away. "But we can't...right now we just..."
And it was true.
They couldn't.
So Blaine did the only thing he could.
He pulled Kurt into a deep, shivering kiss, making damned sure to map the sensation across his teeth and tongue. He wanted the action to follow him everywhere he went, to keep him going with the promise that maybe, someday, he could have this again.
Their bodies still fit so perfectly, like they were fucking made for each other, and for a moment, Blaine wanted to fight for it. He wanted to drag Kurt back to his place and beg him to keep trying with every thrust of his hips He wanted to ingrain the words ‘don't go' across every inch of that perfect, pale skin.
But he couldn't do that.
Not to Kurt.
"Blaine, I - "
"Don't you dare say goodbye to me, Kurt Hummel. You promised."
But what are you promising?
To always love you.
Kurt pressed a kiss to Blaine's forehead and Blaine almost, almost didn't let him go.
"Never."
And it was over.
Kurt just walked away.
Blaine realized then that he was standing in the middle of a coffee shop, fighting back tears while people either shot him dirty or concerned glances.
But couldn't have cared less.
In retrospect, coming back to the same place where they shared their first ‘I love you's', along with their last, probably isn't such a good idea, but he can't fight the urge just to see it one last time, at least.
This time next year, he'll be dorming at NYADA, ready to take on his dreams and, in turn, the world.
As far as Kurt, well, he has no idea.
They've barely talked.
Deep down, he knows it's for the best. For now, it's better that they keep their distance, especially this far into their split (and he refuses to call it a break-up, even if that's exactly what it was).
They've kept in touch, though only with quick updates via text messages. Though smiley faces and lol's do absolutely nothing to portray how Blaine is actually feeling.
He wonders for a moment if Kurt has found someone else, if he's tasting coffee on another man's tongue. He wonders if Kurt ever thinks of him, when he's alone and there's nothing to do - if he looks at his phone and thinks one call won't hurt, just one call, just to hear his voice. He wonders if Kurt ever goes through a box of their old things, or if it's tucked in the attic back at his parents' place. He wonders if Kurt even cares, if it still hurts to think Blaine's name and to know that, for now at least, there's no going back to each other.
He wonders if they'll go back to the way things were.
His throat burns.
He licks his lips and it's the taste of coffee.
The taste of Kurt.
He wishes things could change.
He wishes Kurt would just walk through that door right now, a pretty scarf wrapped artfully around his throat and a smile on his face, like things had never even changed.
A tear falls.
He breathes in, he breathes out.
The world does not stop turning.
He thinks maybe it should.