Collateral Damage. Chapter 15/15. COMPLETE
A/N: Before you dive into the epilogue: I want to thank you for joining me on this rollercoaster ride, and for all the lovely, encouraging words you sent me. Sharing this story with you all has been a pleasure and a privilege. Thank you <3
I will post one more thing tomorrow - some head-canon facts and little snippets - but the story ends with this epilogue. I'm not planning a sequel. The future is yours to imagine ;)
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EPILOGUE
After that last night with Kurt, Blaine woke up feeling empty. The tangle of emotions, the guilt and self-hatred that had choked him for so long was gone, exorcized by Kurt's words and the tenderness of his touch, and there was nothing to take its place. It ached, this empty space inside him, but mostly, he felt relief. It was like having a rotten tooth pulled out, one that had hurt for so long that you'd forgotten how it felt not to be in pain.
Blaine stayed in bed for a long time that morning, just floating - unfocused, disconnected thoughts and feelings coming and going, until he realized: for the first time in years, he felt free. He had nothing anchoring him where he was any longer. Nothing at all.
So he did something that had always been just an unrealistic dream. He put most of his possessions in storage, gave up his apartment, filled his car with the bare minimum he needed to live, and drove away. He could write anywhere, and he had nowhere to call home. Not anymore. Not for a long time, now that he thought of it.
He just kept going, without a plan or a goal, just wherever felt right at any given moment. Weeks turned into months, then a year, and there were so many places. There was no pattern to it, he just followed his whims, the call of his heart. And it seemed like his heart wanted peace, since no matter the state, he tended to gravitate towards nature - empty beaches and mountains and deserts, hiking areas and wood cabins and lake houses. In some places he stayed longer, but it was never more than a month before he felt the need to go again.
He kept mostly to himself, not looking for much human contact. He ate simply and didn't touch alcohol. He spent a lot of time outside - running, hiking, swimming. Physical effort felt good, cleansing. He wrote wherever he went. The old yellow folder with his original ideas and notes was growing thick.
He had no plan when he took off, no idea what he wanted, but somewhere along the road, the freedom, the silence and the nature became therapy. Somehow, even without trying, he found himself healing.
It took two months before he contacted Kurt. He'd left him a message before he went, a goodbye, honestly not sure if they'd ever meet again. Not sure about anything at all at that point. But now, sitting on an empty beach at night, with a gentle breeze and a whisper of waves, he didn't think. He just took out his phone that he hardly ever used anymore, and sent out a text.
I miss you.
This was only the first step in a journey of many. There were more texts flying between them, tentative at first, then more and more comfortable. Sometimes there were a dozen a day, other times silence for weeks. Sometimes he sent Kurt a picture of something that moved his heart; sometimes Kurt showed him what he was working on. They never sent pictures of themselves.
There were conversations, too. Every now and then, when Blaine missed talking or needed to feel anchored to his old life, he'd call. Always at night. They talked about anything, no pressure, no questions, just being there for each other for that bit of time. Kurt knew about Blaine's first hesitant dive into his own story. Blaine knew about Kurt's career and his dating adventures. He was the one Kurt told first when he found a boyfriend; and then the first to know when they split months later. He shook his head, amazed, when Kurt told him he'd gone drinking with Melanie.
They didn't talk much about their memories or feelings, about what had been between them. Didn't try to name things. But somehow, along the line, with words unspoken and texts unclear, they understood. Both of them. There were mutual feelings and there was acceptance, and it didn't mean anything, or change anything. It just was.
It doesn't always have to lead to anything, when you love somebody. Sometimes it's just there, like a smooth, sun-warmed rock in your pocket, steady and reassuring.
And then one day Blaine just knew.
It was time to go back. The healing was done. He was whole again, the long-shattered pieces inspected and rearranged into something new - some thrown away, some new ones added. There was nothing left to search for.
Blaine hadn't been here in over a year, and the last two weeks had been busier than he was used to nowadays. He'd bunked at Mel's for a few days until he'd found a new place to live, and now that the process of settling in was over and the most urgent job-related meetings taken care of, the rest of his life could begin.
He was sitting cross-legged on his bed, staring at the phone in his hand.
His apartment still felt new and unfamiliar around him, the noise from the street outside too loud after the silence of his solitude, but it was home. Finally, his heart was where it wanted to be. Back in New York.
He read the text again, just for good measure.
I'm back. Do you, by any chance, still want to ask me out?
He took a deep breath and hit Send.
The answer came not a minute later.
Thai tonight?
THE END
I will post one more thing tomorrow - some head-canon facts and little snippets - but the story ends with this epilogue. I'm not planning a sequel. The future is yours to imagine ;)
-------------------------------------------------------------
EPILOGUE
After that last night with Kurt, Blaine woke up feeling empty. The tangle of emotions, the guilt and self-hatred that had choked him for so long was gone, exorcized by Kurt's words and the tenderness of his touch, and there was nothing to take its place. It ached, this empty space inside him, but mostly, he felt relief. It was like having a rotten tooth pulled out, one that had hurt for so long that you'd forgotten how it felt not to be in pain.
Blaine stayed in bed for a long time that morning, just floating - unfocused, disconnected thoughts and feelings coming and going, until he realized: for the first time in years, he felt free. He had nothing anchoring him where he was any longer. Nothing at all.
So he did something that had always been just an unrealistic dream. He put most of his possessions in storage, gave up his apartment, filled his car with the bare minimum he needed to live, and drove away. He could write anywhere, and he had nowhere to call home. Not anymore. Not for a long time, now that he thought of it.
He just kept going, without a plan or a goal, just wherever felt right at any given moment. Weeks turned into months, then a year, and there were so many places. There was no pattern to it, he just followed his whims, the call of his heart. And it seemed like his heart wanted peace, since no matter the state, he tended to gravitate towards nature - empty beaches and mountains and deserts, hiking areas and wood cabins and lake houses. In some places he stayed longer, but it was never more than a month before he felt the need to go again.
He kept mostly to himself, not looking for much human contact. He ate simply and didn't touch alcohol. He spent a lot of time outside - running, hiking, swimming. Physical effort felt good, cleansing. He wrote wherever he went. The old yellow folder with his original ideas and notes was growing thick.
He had no plan when he took off, no idea what he wanted, but somewhere along the road, the freedom, the silence and the nature became therapy. Somehow, even without trying, he found himself healing.
It took two months before he contacted Kurt. He'd left him a message before he went, a goodbye, honestly not sure if they'd ever meet again. Not sure about anything at all at that point. But now, sitting on an empty beach at night, with a gentle breeze and a whisper of waves, he didn't think. He just took out his phone that he hardly ever used anymore, and sent out a text.
I miss you.
This was only the first step in a journey of many. There were more texts flying between them, tentative at first, then more and more comfortable. Sometimes there were a dozen a day, other times silence for weeks. Sometimes he sent Kurt a picture of something that moved his heart; sometimes Kurt showed him what he was working on. They never sent pictures of themselves.
There were conversations, too. Every now and then, when Blaine missed talking or needed to feel anchored to his old life, he'd call. Always at night. They talked about anything, no pressure, no questions, just being there for each other for that bit of time. Kurt knew about Blaine's first hesitant dive into his own story. Blaine knew about Kurt's career and his dating adventures. He was the one Kurt told first when he found a boyfriend; and then the first to know when they split months later. He shook his head, amazed, when Kurt told him he'd gone drinking with Melanie.
They didn't talk much about their memories or feelings, about what had been between them. Didn't try to name things. But somehow, along the line, with words unspoken and texts unclear, they understood. Both of them. There were mutual feelings and there was acceptance, and it didn't mean anything, or change anything. It just was.
It doesn't always have to lead to anything, when you love somebody. Sometimes it's just there, like a smooth, sun-warmed rock in your pocket, steady and reassuring.
And then one day Blaine just knew.
It was time to go back. The healing was done. He was whole again, the long-shattered pieces inspected and rearranged into something new - some thrown away, some new ones added. There was nothing left to search for.
Blaine hadn't been here in over a year, and the last two weeks had been busier than he was used to nowadays. He'd bunked at Mel's for a few days until he'd found a new place to live, and now that the process of settling in was over and the most urgent job-related meetings taken care of, the rest of his life could begin.
He was sitting cross-legged on his bed, staring at the phone in his hand.
His apartment still felt new and unfamiliar around him, the noise from the street outside too loud after the silence of his solitude, but it was home. Finally, his heart was where it wanted to be. Back in New York.
He read the text again, just for good measure.
I'm back. Do you, by any chance, still want to ask me out?
He took a deep breath and hit Send.
The answer came not a minute later.
Thai tonight?
THE END