Kurt smiled sadly at the words. He couldn’t bring himself to look away from Blaine’s eyes, those pools of dark chocolate, and the identical curl of his lips. Yet, at the same time, the truth behind the sentence hit too close to home.
“I know.”
He’d tried to make it work. Had tried so hard. Blaine was perfect - sweet, caring, loving, a gentleman from the past decades - and it was just what Kurt had always dreamed of.
Dreams weren’t reality.
“I’m sorry.”
Blaine stepped closer, his hand resting on Kurt’s cheek. The brunet blinked back a tear.
“I know”, he whispered. “But it’s not only you.”
The dark-haired teen chuckled at this.
“Don’t you understand that you are perfect?” Blaine asked, sweeping a tear from Kurt’s face. “That is why this can’t go on. For me, you are too perfect. For you, I am too perfect. Apparently two times perfect does not make for a happy couple.”
It had been the fairytale of his life, Kurt thought. Him in a flamboyant peacoat and Blaine with his charming smile and mannerisms straight from the Disney movies.
“Can we still be friends?”
“Kurt, honey - we’ll never stop being friends. We make the best friends. We make the worst couple. I can’t express how sorry I am for this.”
“It’s not only you”, Kurt repeated, almost choking on the words. “And I’m sorry, too.”
“I know.”
It wasn’t until the sanctuary of his own room that Kurt let the heartbreaking sobs out. Flopping down on his bed, not caring about the wrinkles his blazer would acquire, the brunet buried his face in a plush pillow and screamed, cried, raged.
Rick returned not an hour later. He stopped at the door, stunned by the tears streaming down Kurt’s face. The brunet couldn’t have cared any less.
“What’s wrong?” Rick asked, voice thick with worry. Kurt couldn’t bear to look at him. “Should I go get Blaine?”
“No! No, please, don’t--”
Another series of cries, harder than before, raked Kurt’s body.
“We broke up”, he whispered between sniffles and pained gasps of air. “We broke up. Don’t.”
Kurt didn’t move away when a heavy weight settled on the side of his bed. He didn’t flinch away when a hand roughened by years of playing guitar cupped his face. He didn’t pull away when Rick molded their bodies together, sweet, caring, loving. Comforting.
Kurt smiled sadly at the words. He couldn’t bring himself to look away from Blaine’s eyes, those pools of dark chocolate, and the identical curl of his lips. Yet, at the same time, the truth behind the sentence hit too close to home.
“I know.”
He’d tried to make it work. Had tried so hard. Blaine was perfect - sweet, caring, loving, a gentleman from the past decades - and it was just what Kurt had always dreamed of.
Dreams weren’t reality.
“I’m sorry.”
Blaine stepped closer, his hand resting on Kurt’s cheek. The brunet blinked back a tear.
“I know”, he whispered. “But it’s not only you.”
The dark-haired teen chuckled at this.
“Don’t you understand that you are perfect?” Blaine asked, sweeping a tear from Kurt’s face. “That is why this can’t go on. For me, you are too perfect. For you, I am too perfect. Apparently two times perfect does not make for a happy couple.”
It had been the fairytale of his life, Kurt thought. Him in a flamboyant peacoat and Blaine with his charming smile and mannerisms straight from the Disney movies.
“Can we still be friends?”
“Kurt, honey - we’ll never stop being friends. We make the best friends. We make the worst couple. I can’t express how sorry I am for this.”
“It’s not only you”, Kurt repeated, almost choking on the words. “And I’m sorry, too.”
“I know.”
It wasn’t until the sanctuary of his own room that Kurt let the heartbreaking sobs out. Flopping down on his bed, not caring about the wrinkles his blazer would acquire, the brunet buried his face in a plush pillow and screamed, cried, raged.
Rick returned not an hour later. He stopped at the door, stunned by the tears streaming down Kurt’s face. The brunet couldn’t have cared any less.
“What’s wrong?” Rick asked, voice thick with worry. Kurt couldn’t bear to look at him. “Should I go get Blaine?”
“No! No, please, don’t--”
Another series of cries, harder than before, raked Kurt’s body.
“We broke up”, he whispered between sniffles and pained gasps of air. “We broke up. Don’t.”
Kurt didn’t move away when a heavy weight settled on the side of his bed. He didn’t flinch away when a hand roughened by years of playing guitar cupped his face. He didn’t pull away when Rick molded their bodies together, sweet, caring, loving. Comforting.
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