Fic: Lights Will Guide You Home (1/2)
and high up above or down below
when you're too in love to let it go
but if you never try you'll never know
just what you're worth
lights will guide you home
and ignite your bones
and I will try to fix you.
The bar is dark and dirty, the kind of dirty that makes your skin crawl the moment you walk in. For some reason Kurt finds himself here at least one evening a week, dragged along by the other members of the theater troupe, who insist that he needs to socialize. The other regular patrons don’t even notice his flamboyant clothes anymore, which irritates him to no end - the whole place irritates him, really, but what can you do.
“First round is on me!” Aaron calls out, receiving a happy cheer from the other eight performers who have tagged along this time. They sit down at a table in the corner, but Kurt goes the other way, taking a seat at the bar and ordering a drink. He’s not surprised when one of the members of their little group, a shorter guy with a powder-puff of bright red hair perched on top of his head, follows him cautiously.
“You’re not going to join us?” He asks hopefully. Derek is twenty-one old, though he looks and sounds younger, without a doubt gay though he isn’t out of the closet, and most likely in love with Kurt. He’s sickeningly adorable, and Kurt is almost disappointed to find that the kid is far from his type (even with absurdly curly hair.) It would be the easiest thing in the world to fall for him, but he just can’t. He knows that he’ll break Derek’s heart one day without meaning too, so he tries to keep him at a distance.
“Not really in the mood.” Kurt doesn’t look at him. They go through this exact conversation every week, as if they’re rehearsing the lines for their next musical. Sometimes Kurt actually does make an effort to socialize with them, and he knows exactly what will happen, if he does: they will gossip about the other actors behind each other’s backs, they will rant about how amazing their current project will be, everyone will drive home drunk. Someone will get emotional and tell the rest of the group how much he or she loves them all, how they’re like another family, and this will make Kurt angrier than it should as he wonders what on earth he’s doing with these people. No, he wants to say. No, we’re not a family. Outside of the theater, we don’t even know each other. I’ve had a second family, and it is nothing like this. Because as dysfunctional and dramatic New Directions had been, no matter how sometimes none of them really liked each other, they had loved each other. That was a family. Not this.
It’s better for him to just ignore them all outside of work, so that he can be on stage with these people and not hate their guts for no real reason.
“O-okay. I’ll see you around, then.” Derek smiles brightly and practically skips away, Kurt’s coldness bouncing right off of him. Kurt is halfway tempted to leave - he doesn’t really need a ride home, his apartment is only a few blocks away - but then his drink arrives, and he feels obligated to finish it first.
He doesn’t know why he comes here. At first, it distracted him from himself, but lately it just makes him think more. It’s not like this tiny, dirty Manhattan bar is in any way connected to his past or his friends, but it makes him think about them. Not miss them, exactly, though there’s always some of that in the back of his mind. It’s just nostalgia, he supposes. He had hated high school, but all of the happiest times had happened them as well.
A particularly loud giggle from Derek makes Kurt glance up automatically, but his eyes don’t fall on the table his not-really-friends sit at. They fall a few feet to the left, to a short-ish guy with curly dark hair, wearing a white V-neck and jeans held up with suspenders, all underneath an unbuttoned black blazer. Those suspenders look familiar, sparking a memory Kurt likes to keep buried. He tries to distract himself from the suspenders and instead takes a glance at the man's face.
Oh.
Time freezes. Kurt is sure of it. The chatter of the people around him dissolves, everything but the boy - no, not a boy anymore, a man - his eyes have landed on. There is nothing in the world but the two of them.
This isn’t possible, Kurt thinks, staring at that familiar face. This isn’t happening. He is not here.
But there’s no mistaking him, Kurt would recognize that face anywhere. Every time he passes a guy with curly, dark hair on the street he automatically thinks he’s seeing Blaine, but this is the first time it’s really been him. Everything moves slowly, like a dream, as he wonders what he’s supposed to do now. Does he talk to him? Does he run away and hide? All those half-hopeful daydreams about seeing Blaine again, and now he has no idea what to do. He grips his drink tightly in his hand, frozen like a deer in the headlights.
Then Blaine looks up, right on cue, as if this is just a performance and they are just two actors on stage, and he looks straight at Kurt. Reality comes rushing back, and Kurt looks away, downing his drink in one gulp and keeping his eyes fixed on the bar in front of him. His heart pounds and his stomach twists and it feels an awful lot like stage fright, like if Blaine does recognize him and walks over, he won’t know what to say.
He hears footsteps that are still familiar after three years, and shuts his eyes tight.
“…Kurt? Kurt Hummel?”
He glances up, and of course, Blaine is standing there, looking like he can’t quite believe what he’s seeing. “Oh my god,” Kurt says, because now it’s real. He takes a deep breath to calm his nerves. And then he doesn’t know what to say. He stands there gaping like a fish, and it’s absurd, because one of the things he’s best at when performing is improvising if he forgets what he’s supposed to do next. He’ll think something up on the spot that everyone else can just go with. Now? He can’t even say hello.
“I can’t believe it.” Blaine lets out a little laugh and runs his hand though his hair, which is still short, but no longer slicked back the way he wore it in high school. “Sorry, I don’t mean to be all awkward. Just didn’t expect to see you here.” Or anywhere, ever again, his eyes say.
“Likewise!” Kurt hates how breathless he sounds, but he can’t help it. He gestures toward the empty stool next to him, and Blaine nods and sits down, his eyes never leaving Kurt. “Small world.”
“Can I buy you a drink or something?” Blaine asks hesitantly. He seems as nervous as Kurt feels which is both good and bad.
“Vodka.” Kurt replies immediately. Blaine raises his eyebrows, but orders two shots anyway. Kurt doesn’t drink hard liquor as a rule, but right now, he feels like he’ll need it. He downs the drink in one gulp, relishing the burning in his throat. He understands why some people call it ‘liquid courage’ now, because while it shouldn’t help, it does. Blaine takes a sip of his drink, wrinkles his nose in distaste, coughs a little, and sets it back down. It’s kind-of-extremely cute, but Kurt wishes that it wasn’t. Neither of them speak for a few moments, but it’s Blaine who breaks the silence.
“How are you?” He asks, putting an elbow on the bar and resting his chin in the palm of his hand as he watches Kurt. Later on, Kurt will look back and laugh at how much this looks and sounds like the beginning of a romantic comedy, something cliché, about two high school sweethearts meeting by chance years later. For now, he calmly answers the question.
“Surviving,” he says, because that’s the only word to describe his current existence. He has work full time and the theater part time part time and working on his fashion design degree part time (although it’s summer now, so he’s got a few moments here and there to relax) and distracting himself from memories and unwanted thoughts the rest of it, so there’s no room for much but survival. “And you?”
The sharp, bitter sound Blaine makes is not quite laughter. “Let me get back to you on that when I know.”
“Fair enough.”
Blaine shifts around and clears his throat. “You, uh, you look good. If that’s not weird to say.”
Well, fuck. Of course it’s weird. Everything about this, Blaine even being here, is weird. Kurt shakes his head, a light smile touching his lips. “It’s fine. And thank you. Glad to see someone still appreciates my fabulousness.”
“The world would be a much darker place without it.”
“True. You do too, by the way. Um. Look good, that is.” Blaine just smiles and Kurt is flustered, and for one second he feels seventeen again, which is both wonderful and terrible. He wishes that he had another drink, wishes that this encounter had happened anywhere but this shitty place. “Let’s take a walk,” he blurts out.
Blaine looks skeptical and pleased all at once. “Really?”
No. Not really. He doesn’t know what ‘taking a walk’ will entail, or what he even means by it, all he knows is that he’s terrified. However, Kurt is a very good actor. “Might as well.” He shrugs.
“Yeah. Okay. Sure.” Blaine pays for the drinks and stands up. Kurt doesn’t bother saying goodbye to Aaron and the other actors as they leave. Derek is the only one who will notice his absence anyway.
They fall into step beside each other easily, an act perfected by months of holding hands as they strolled down the hallways of Dalton Academy and McKinley High, but now they keep their hands far away from each other, Kurt’s in his pockets and Blaine’s gripping the strap on the over-stuffed messenger back he carries, sometimes so hard that his knuckles turn white. Kurt doesn’t let himself waste any thoughts on wondering why. He is thankful when Blaine strikes up a conversation first, because he has no idea what to say. The topics drift from college, to work, to a musical they both happen to have seen recently, to movies and books. They don’t really talk about anything personal. Suddenly Blaine is as much a mystery to him as he was that very first day, when a stranger grabbed Kurt’s hand, insisting that he knew a shortcut. He needs to know something, at least, something to remind him that Blaine did not remain nineteen when they parted, that he has something like a life now too. “Are you living in New York now?” He quickly changes the subject.
“Kind of. Not really. I’m not sure yet.” He shrugs. “Technically I live in California, still, but I’m barely ever there, so… who knows.”
Kurt can’t help but tense up at the mention of California, and wonders if it’s reasonable to harbor a grudge against a particular state. “Work? College?”
“Haven’t finished college yet. Maybe some time.” He laughs. “I busk on street corners a lot. My life is a complete mess, to be honest.”
“And here I expected you to disappear to some Ivy League school and take over the family business or something. Isn’t that what’s expected of Dalton alumni?” He teases. It’s weird how easy it is to talk to him, still.
Blaine shrugs. “Well, if you remember correctly, I didn’t graduate from Dalton,” he points out. That’s true - he had transferred to McKinley for senior year. “But yeah, that’s what Mom and Dad assumed, too. Well, you know them.” Kurt just nods. Blaine’s parents are good enough people, but overbearing, pushing their son to be an overachiever. “And maybe I will, at some point. I guess I just wanted to try… I don’t know… living, for a while. Before I plan out the rest of my life.” He realizes that the conversation has gotten slightly too serious, and asks a question of his own. “So, you’re acting now? Saw a poster for the new play,” he explains.
“Oh. That. Yeah, I guess. It’s no big deal.” Kurt blushes.
“Now, that’s not the Kurt Hummel I know. Lead role, right? It’s totally a big deal.”
“No,” Kurt says, a little more coldly than he intended. “It’s really not.”
Blaine takes the hint and doesn’t say anything more about it. They walk in silence for a little longer, until Kurt sits down on a bench. Blaine sits down on the other end, bites his lip, fidgets. Kurt is almost glad to see that he looks as nervous as he feels. “I’m probably being way too nosy. But. Can I keep asking you questions?” He laughs a little. “It’s weird. Not knowing what’s been going on with you. But you can say no.”
“Only if you answer them back.” Kurt raises his eyebrows. He has to admit that he’s curious about Blaine, too. They were always supposed to know everything about each other, be best friends even if they weren’t lovers. It hadn’t happened.
“Still in touch with New Directions?”
“Try to be.” New Directions is not an easy topic of discussion for him - he misses them so much, sometimes. “Mercedes is in Chicago, finishing up school. Quinn and Puck get engaged and break up every other week. He shrugs, looking down at the ground. “Finn is still in Lima. In college, but he doesn’t want to leave his hometown yet. I guess I need to call everyone else soon, I’m not sure what they’re up to. Rachel and I have an apartment together like we always planned.”
Blaine grins. “Of course you do. I figured you’d never give up on that.”
You should be there, Kurt thinks bitterly. The plan had always been for the three of them to move in together, but then California had happened, and the breakup. But it’s not as if he can talk about that. And how is Rachel?”
“Good, I think. Finally gave up on Finn, long distance wasn’t working, and she’s a lot happier for it.”
“Good for her.”
Kurt nods. “What about the Warblers?” He hasn’t even tried to keep in touch with them. They ‘like’ each other’s statuses on Facebook occasionally, but that’s it.
“Nah. They’re too busy with Ivy League schools and inheriting the family business and all of that. I have lunch with Wes and David every six months or so to talk about the good old days and how we’ll be BFF’s forever, and then we forget about each other for the rest of the year.” He does nothing to hide the bitterness in his voice, and Kurt feels so lucky that, even though he himself is a terrible friend, most everyone else in New Directions cares enough to at least send a mass email on a regular basis, just to let everyone know how they are. Blaine seems to contemplate his next question for a moment before speaking again. “You don’t have to answer this, but… boyfriends?” He says it so quickly that Kurt thinks he misheard. “Have you had any, I mean?”
Kurt swallows, suddenly nervous. “A few.” Quite a few, he corrects himself silently. Kurt had fully embraced the so-called ‘college experience’ after breaking it off with Blaine, losing himself in studying and partying and boys and boys and boys. “Nothing particularly serious.” No one I actually cared about he thinks, but I still cried when I inevitably broke it off. He never cried for himself, though, breaking up with those boyfriends was a relief more than anything else. Maybe he just feels bad for hurting them - he’s keeping his distance from Derek because he doesn’t want to hurt him, after all. “But I’m not seeing anyone at the moment,” he adds as an afterthought, then cringes, because wow, that doesn’t make him sound desperate at all. Who he’s seeing isn’t really Blaine’s business anymore. “You?”
“Just one. Until a few months back. Plus a couple one-night stands I’m not particularly proud of,” he adds. Blaine is nothing if not inappropriately honest. Kurt doesn’t want to hear about one-night stands, doesn’t want to think about one-night stands, especially doesn’t want the words Blaine and one-night stand in the same sentence, and if that makes him a hypocrite, so be it.
“Were you together long?”
Blaine shakes his head. “Not really. Not as long as you and I…” He stops, and Kurt holds his breath. Not as long as we were, Kurt wants to finish, but neither of them complete the sentence. If they acknowledge that they were together once, that they were so in love, that Blaine would have married Kurt if only he’d asked - if they acknowledge that, they have to face it and that is scary. “I’m over it.” Blaine says instead. “We just weren’t right for each other. We’re just friends now, so it’s okay.”
It isn’t meant to make Kurt guilty, but it does anyway. We could have been friends, and it would have been okay. But no. He’s too stubborn and too scared and too much of an idiot.
Blaine looks down at his watch, this expression on his face one of genuine disappointment and confliction. “I’m going to be late,” he mumbles, glancing over at Kurt. “I have to go, but… Kurt… can I see you again?”
Blaine actually wants to see him again. This baffles Kurt to no end. For a moment, he can only stammer, and Blaine looks both amused and worried. Finally, he breathes, “Of course you can.”
“Great.” Blaine stands up, really smiling now. “Great. Really great.”
“I can be at that bar tomorrow evening. Same time.” He wonders if that’s being too hasty or pushy, but the other boy doesn’t seem to mind.
“I’ll be there.” They don’t say goodbye, and Kurt loves that. Goodbye means something is ending, but that’s not what’s happening now. This is a beginning - to what, he both dreads and anticipates finding out.
.
“I honestly don’t know who he thinks he is, telling me my voice is sharp when the girl who actually got the part couldn’t carry a tune to save her life. Can you believe it?”
Mmhm.” Kurt replies absently. He’s used to these rants from Rachel, but he can’t really be bothered to, you know, actually pay attention. He’s too distracted. And with good reason.
“Kurt. You haven’t been paying one bit of attention.” Rachel accuses.
“I’m sorry. I guess I just have a lot on my mind.” He pulls a sweater out of his closet, wrinkles his nose, and shoves it away.
“Anything you’d like to share?” Rachel leans forward from where she perches at his desk chair.
Kurt hesitates, trying to judge how much his best friend will freak out when he tells her. “I kind of sort of saw Blaine yesterday.” He mumbles.
He flinches when she shrieks, “YOU WHAT?”
“Ow! Nothing happened. Not really. It’s not a big deal.”
“I can’t believe you kept this from me all evening! Details. Now.” He tells her the entire story, about running into him at the bar and going for a walk and their entire terrifying, awkward conversation (or what he can remember of it.)
“And he had to leave after that, but first he said, and I quote…” He clears his throat. “’Can I see you again?’”
“Oh my god.”
“Right? What does that even mean?”
“So are you going to? See him again, that is?”
Kurt nods. “Tonight, actually.”
“Get me his number. I miss him.”
“I’ll try.”
Rachel watches him thoughtfully. “Do you still have the ring he gave you?”
“No.” He lies. He’d meant to throw it away when they broke up. He keeps it in his pocket - almost hoping he’ll lose it by accident - and he still wears it, sometimes. Kurt sighs and flops down on his soft bed, staring up at the ceiling. “It’s all so… weird.”
“Good weird or bad weird?”
“I’m not sure…” Kurt bites his lip. Blaine has been on his mind all day, and he’s gone from being excited, to nervous, to considering the option not even meeting up with him that night at all, and then back to excited again, over and over until he’s just a mess of emotion. “I think it… could be good? Or it could be really bad. Like, the worst thing ever. That’s it. I’m not going.”
“Don’t be ridiculous, of course you’re going.”
“…You’re right, of course. I just… I don’t know what to do or say, or what he expects… I don’t even know what I’m going to wear. Help me!” He wails, too distraught to realize he’s asking Rachel Berry for fashion advice.
“I suppose that all depends on what your intentions are. Are you trying to win him back?”
Kurt slowly sits up on his bed, his stomach suddenly in knots. “I… I don’t know.” His voice is barely more than a whisper. “I don’t even know if I want to - god, what am I saying, of course I want to - but - oh my god, what am I doing, Rachel?”
“Okay, calm down -“
“I can’t screw this up. I’ve screwed everything else up, I can’t - I can’t let this happen again. What if he hates me?”
Rachel sighs, considering this for a moment. “What have you got to lose? If it doesn’t work out, you’re back to square one. If it does, you’ll be happy again.” If it were anyone but Rachel, he would have contradicted them, claiming that of course he’s happy, but he can’t lie to her. She lives with him, they’re practically family by this point, and she knows him better than anyone else in New York (besides Blaine, now.) “Try to be friends first, and see where that goes. Just… don’t hurt him.”
Kurt remains silent.
“You breaking up with him really killed him, Kurt. You didn’t see him after, you have no idea.”
He doesn’t tell her that he knows exactly what Blaine was feeling then. It’s what he’s feeling now that’s the problem. “It killed me too,” he says softly.
“But at least you knew why you did it. He got left in the dark.”
Kurt remains silent. The truth is, he doesn’t know. He knows that, at the time, it felt like the best thing to do, but he can’t narrow it down to one specific reason.
“For the record, I hope you do get back together.” Rachel continues. “Maybe then you can stop sleeping around.”
“I don’t sleep around,” Kurt says automatically, though he knows its useless arguing with her. “I always date them first.”
“You used to date them first,” she corrects. He can’t really deny that.
.
Just like the day before, Kurt abandons his fellow actors at the bar - he knows he’s there a few minutes early, but he hopes to get a drink in him so that he’s less likely to have a nervous breakdown when Blaine arrives. Just like the day before, Derek follows him as he sits down at the bar, smiling widely.
“I can’t sit with you guys tonight, sorry,” he says before the smaller boy can open his mouth. He puts his hand in the pocket of his coat, feeling the old ring there. Somehow, it gives him courage.
“Okay.” Derek isn’t distressed by this at all. “How come?”
“Well -“
“Hey, Kurt.”
Both of them turn around. Blaine is there, a small smile on his face, and before Kurt can stop himself, he smiles too, the most genuine smile he has given anyone in a long time. “Hey,” he breathes, staring up at Blaine. And damn it, just like that, he is smitten again, not that her ever really stopped being smitten.
Still, it would be easier if he weren’t.
“Oh, um, this is Derek.” He introduces, after a few moments of awkward silence. The red-head beams up at Blaine, shaking his hand quickly. “He works at the theater.”
“Oh, do you act, too?” Blaine asks, politely curious.
Derek’s eyes widen, and he shakes his head. “Oh, no. I just make the costumes.” He smiles at Kurt and then steps away. “Nice meeting you. See you at work, Kurt.” He hurries away, and Blaine takes a seat at the bar.
“He seems… nice.” Blaine raises his eyebrows. Kurt just shrugs and orders them a drink. Not vodka, this time, but some cheap kind of wine.
“Yeah. He’s in love with me.” He doesn’t mean to add that last bit, but it’s not as if it makes a difference. Blaine doesn’t reply. Their drinks come. Blaine sips his delicately while Kurt gulps his in three long swallows. He’s not an alcoholic, far from it. It just… helps, sometimes.
The silence is awkward, and Kurt wonders, more than once, what he’s doing here, what Blaine is doing here. Blaine has every right to be mad at him, even after two and a half years, but he doesn’t really look angry. He’s just quiet, and thoughtful, and yeah, maybe a little bit sad, but Blaine is still as good at putting up walls around himself as he was as a teenager. Kurt is just better at seeing through them than most.
That was what they always were to each other - the only ones who really got it. The only ones they couldn’t lie to.
“It’s good to see you again,” Blaine finally says, shooting a quick glance Kurt’s way.
“I’m glad.”
“It’s not too weird, is it? Wanting to see you?”
“You’ve got to stop doing that. Talking about how awkward and weird we are. It’s definitely weird,” Kurt assures him, smiling softly, the words coming forth in a short burst of courage. “But weird can be good, right?”
“I certainly hope so.” Now he smiles for real, the kind that makes Kurt want to hug him and never let go. He barely resists the urge, but god, now that the idea is in his head; he wants to hold Blaine so badly. Or be held. It doesn’t matter. Just some kind of contact.
He keeps his hands to himself. Rachel, who has grown far more mature in the ways of relationships since breaking it off with Finn for good, had suggested that he try to befriend Blaine again before he even thinks about trying to get back together. Blaine had been his best friend before his lover, and even while dating, they hadn’t lost that initial connection, the one that kept Kurt going through every little fight - the simple thought that if he lost Blaine, he would lose his best friend in the entire world.
If he could get that bond back, it could even be better than being his boyfriend again. Maybe he would even be satisfied with other boys.
“How do you like New York so far?” Kurt asks.
“Oh, I love it. I can’t wait to see more. Can I tell you a secret?” Blaine leans forward, and says conspiratorially, “I hate Los Angeles.”
Kurt can’t help it. He laughs.
“It’s so awful, you don’t even know - ugh, there aren’t even words. Once I figure out where I want to stay, I’m transferring. In a flash.”
“I told you, I told you.”
“I know!” Blaine groans, smiling as he does it. “You had the right idea all along. New York or bust.”
“I’ll toast to that.” Kurt raises his glass. “And I now fully expect to see you at NYU next semester.”
Blaine snorts. “Yeah, I wish. Mom and Dad are helping me out with school when I get back on my feet, but I have to deal with housing on my own. Like I could afford New York. I guess I could live in my car.”
Kurt laughs again at that. “Right? Our apartment is kind of a shithole and we still can hardly afford it. It is three-bedroom, though, so we really should try to find another roommate.” Kurt doesn’t mean to keep talking, but his mouth goes right along without his brain. “You could always…well. I don’t know.”
“…yeah?” Blaine prompts.
“Well, just - if you needed - I’m not saying you’d have to move in, not that you couldn’t, but - if you needed a place to stay. For a little while. Whatever. I’m going to stop talking now.”
“…huh.” Blaine watches him, curious and thoughtful, and Kurt blushes furiously under his gaze, shifting uncomfortable. The silence comes back, more awkward than ever, and Kurt wonders if he just ruined everything with his forwardness. Then Blaine laughs, so softly that Kurt hardly hears him.
“God, I missed you,” Blaine whispers. Kurt doesn’t care that he probably wasn’t meant to hear that, he looks up anyway, looks into Blaine’s eyes. He looks so sad, even with the soft smile playing across his features. Bittersweet. “But look at you. You’re acting and singing like you always wanted, you’ve got boyfriends left and right, you’re still in touch with your friends. You’ve got everything you need. You probably haven’t had time to miss me.”
“I don’t have everything I need.” Kurt says quietly. He should be more grateful, because to an outsider, his life isn’t bad. And anything is better than Lima, Ohio. But it still doesn’t feel like enough. There’s a huge hole in his life he doesn’t know how to fill. “And I did miss you.” The night after they broke up, Kurt had curled up on the floor of his father’s room, next to his mother’s old dresser, and breathed in the fading scent of her perfume, and thought of ten different things he wished he’d told Blaine first. He’d never cried over a boy that hard before, not even over Finn, and never had since.
Blaine just looks at him. “Did you, really?”
And wow, how could you make the situation that much heavier with only three words. Kurt decides that he’s far too sober for this and orders tequila, this time. So much. Kurt replies in his head. There are some days when he doesn’t miss him, convinces himself that this is better. There are some days when he just forgets. But usually he misses him more than anything else in the world. Kurt still thinks about Blaine when he’s with his other boyfriends, though he’ll never admit it.
Before Kurt can reply, Blaine shakes his head and tries to laugh. “Don’t answer that.”
“Would you rather think I didn’t?” Unconsciously, his hand clenches around the ring in his pocket.
“Maybe.”
“Sorry to disappoint you, then.”
Blaine looks like he’s not sure what to make of that. Kurt doesn’t realize that he’s taken his hand out of his pocket, fiddling with the ring right there in front of him, until Blaine’s eyes fall on his hands. His expression is unreadable, and Kurt is sure that this is the very moment when he ruins everything.
“You kept it.” Blaine says quietly. His breath sounds a little shaky, and he takes a long drink of his barely-touched wine. Kurt has now been through two shots of tequila. “Do… do you still wear it?”
Kurt keeps his eyes on the simple silver ring in his hand. It isn’t an engagement ring - neither of them had been ready for that back then - but a promise ring, given to him in between gentle, delicate kisses, and whispers of “I love you,” and “I’ll wait for you, as long as you need,” and “Forever.” For some reason that had seemed more beautiful to Kurt than any gaudy diamond engagement ring, maybe slightly less perfect that a wedding band. “Only when I’m trying to convince unwanted suitors that I’m ‘taken’.” He smiles without any humor. “And when I’m feeling particularly self-loathing.”
“Kurt, what happened?” Blaine asks. Kurt knows, in his heart, this question was always going to come. He still isn’t prepared for it, and can’t find an answer. “I’m serious. You never told me what went wrong with… us. What happened?”
“What difference does it make now?”
“I can’t change whatever is wrong with me unless I know what it is. I know I was a terrible boyfriend, but -“
“You were not a terrible boyfriend!” Kurt gapes at him. “You were perfect. You were the best boyfriend I could dare to hope for. I’ve avoided so many terrible guys because I know the difference between someone who will treat me right and someone who won’t. That’s all because of you.”
Blaine takes another drink. “I’m so glad to hear that. Thanks, Kurt.”
“I didn’t mean - Blaine, that’s not fair.”
“No, really. I’m glad you’re so happy.”
“I’m not happy.” Kurt snaps. “I’m fucking miserable, okay?”
“Is that supposed to make me feel better? Kurt, why can’t you tell me what I did wrong?”
Kurt almost wishes that he would yell. He’s obviously upset, but he’s so quiet, and that’s almost worse. He feels his throat clench, threatening tears. “You didn’t do anything wrong.”
“’It’s not you, it’s me’?”
Kurt nods. “Yes! Exactly!”
Blaine looks him straight in the eye. “That is bullshit.”
Hearing Blaine swear is always strange, but hearing him swear at Kurt is even worse. “Well it’s the truth,” he snaps back. “So stop being unreasonable.”
“I’m not being unreasonable!”
“Yes you are! I thought we could have a civil conversation, but you’re already picking a fight with me!”
“I don’t want to fight.”
“Then stop!”
Blaine looks away, taking a deep, shaking breath. “It’s not unreasonable,” he says slowly, trying to be calm, “to ask you something I’ve been wanting to know for years. Even if you don’t want anything to do with me, you owe me that much.”
Kurt swallows. He’s right, of course, damn him, but he doesn’t have an answer that he would be satisfied with, let alone one that he can give Blaine without feeling like a complete asshole. But Blaine is waiting, so he whispers, “I don’t know.”
Blaine laughs, a little. “You don’t know. Isn’t that just like you.”
Anger flashes through him, and Kurt straightens in his chair. “You seriously have to stop it with the sarcasm. It wasn’t easy for me, okay?” He snaps. “It was probably the hardest decision I’ve ever made in my life, and fuck, I’m still not sure about it, so don’t talk to me like that.”
“Now who’s being unreasonable?”
“Do you have any idea how hard it was, how much courage it took to let you go?”
Blaine snorts. “And we both know how ‘courage’ always turns out for you, right?”
“Go fuck yourself, Blaine!”
Blaine is standing up and walking away almost before Kurt finishes the sentence, and he doesn’t look back. Kurt stares after him, his chest heaving and eyes stinging. The few people sitting at the bar fall silent, glance his way warily, before going back to their drinks. He has a feeling that Derek is watching him, but he doesn’t care.
“Fuck,” he mutters to himself, burying his face in his hands. “Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck.”
.
He wanders back home a little later, a little drunk and a lot miserable, and he’s not sure if it’s good or bad that Rachel is waiting up for him. She wraps him up in a hug the instant she sees him, whispering, “Oh, honey, I’m so sorry.”
“I’m such an idiot,” he moans. “I’m so fucking stupid, Rachel.”
“What happened?”
He shakes his head, pulling away from her and rubbing away the tears forming in his eyes. “He hates me and he has good reason to and it’s all my fault.”
“I’m sure it’s not all your fault.”
“I love him,” he croaks.
“I know.”
“I love him so much and I hurt him so badly.”
Rachel takes him by the hand, and he lets her drag him to his bedroom. “You need to sleep,” she insists. “It’ll all make more sense in the morning.”
He mumbles something unintelligible even to him, and collapses on his bed without even changing his clothes. He doesn’t realize that he’s crying until the pillow underneath his cheek is stained with tears, but he doesn’t even fight them after that.