Fic: In My life, I Love You More
Title: In My life, I Love You More
Rating: PG
Pairings: Kurt/Blaine
Word Count: 850
Prompt: Connection
Summary: Kurt’s not sure when he realizes he’s the love of Blaine’s life.
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Kurt’s not sure when he realizes he’s the love of Blaine’s life.
It’s certainly not in an uncomfortable chair in Ms. Pillsbury’s office, leaning across the armrest to press Blaine tight in his arms, breathing in his gel and the underlying scent of Blaine whilst Blaine’s fingers dig deep into his shoulder blades.
It’s not even a month later when they’re forced to say goodbye, Blaine’s small frame clinging to Kurt’s every stretch of skin as they lay tangled amongst the sheets in the tiny apartment he, Rachel and Finn will call home. Burt and Carole had flown home a day earlier, but he’d begged Blaine to stay, and they’d spent the day buried beneath the sheets, pressing each slip of skin to memory and whispering heavy words of love and promise into the others mouth.
It’s not as the months pass; they Skype most nights, and Blaine manages to sneak away for one more weekend, where they only emerge from Kurt’s bedroom to stumble down the road for brunch.
He knows in all these moments that Blaine loves him - that he loves Blaine. He knows he never wants this feeling to stop, or fade away. But the reality is that people change and grow and feelings shift - whilst he can honestly say he loves Blaine through every breathing minute, he can’t help the little voice at the back of his head that whispers, ‘this might not always be the case.’
-
Blaine knows. Blaine’s known since that day in the Lima Bean, hand leant against his cheek as his boyfriend gushed about New York, that Kurt Hummel will be the one great romance of his life. Nothing on earth will ever compare to the love and pain and passion he feels for this boy.
He knows because there are days when Kurt infuriates him beyond anything. Days when he wants to rip at his hair and grip at Kurt’s arms and shake him because sometimes he can be churlish and a diva and says horrible things without thinking. But Blaine loves him anyway.
He knows because they’re honest with each other; completely honest about their thoughts and their feelings and their fears. Because when they’re lying in bed, naked and sweaty and pressed so tight he can feel each shift of hair across his ankles, Kurt whispers his secrets and promises into Blaine’s shoulder, and when they’re fully clothed and draped over each other on the couch Blaine will play with the ends of Kurt’s hair (and he never complains) and Blaine tells him about his family, and about Dalton, and before Dalton, and everything in between.
He knows because his heart doesn’t just skip a beat, or pound incessantly, or send heat pooling to the pits of his stomach when Kurt looks at him. Instead his heart aches.
It aches and it pulls and it pushes him forwards, always forwards, so that he’s pressed up against Kurt in every way. He’s never close enough, never holding tight enough, never curled around him enough to ease the ache - instead it grows and grows and threatens to overwhelm him.
His heart knows that it’s tied unreservedly to Kurt Hummel’s. And it aches at the mere thought of ever having to let go.
-
Kurt does realise he’s the love of Blaine’s life (truly realises - there are flashing lights and his heart beats faster and for a moment he’s afraid he might be having a stroke) one simple morning, years later, as he hurries through the kitchen for work.
He has a ring on his finger that embodies their promise to each other and the taste of coffee on his lips from Blaine’s early morning kiss. He has a mark on his hip and phantom fingers pressed in tight; a constant reminder that he’s wanted by and connected to the man standing quietly before the television.
Their daughter, only three years old, sings loudly as she weaves her way into the kitchen with her hair tangled in soft curls and Kurt tuts at her as he attempts to comb it back into something presentable.
“Blaine -“ he begins, and falters as the toddle slips from his grasp. “Blaine?”
His husband turns from where he stands still, silent, watching the news play a reel tape - a young woman found dead, her distraught husband on camera.
“Blaine?” he tries again.
Blaine steps closer and holds out an arm to curl it warmly around Kurt’s waist, tugging him in tightly.
“I love you,” he whispers into Kurt’s skin.
“I love you too.”
Kurt understands, suddenly, unexpectedly, wholly - just what it means to be the love of someone’s life.
Loving someone else is easy. It’s safe.
Having someone love you leaves you both vulnerable, open and exposed. You hold their love delicately in the palm of your hand.
Kurt pulls Blaine closer and presses a kiss into his curls.
“You are the love of my life,” he mumbles, as their daughter slips in between their legs to investigate the moment.
Blaine smiles softly, tears rimming his lashes, before bending to hoist the little girl up into their circle.
And Kurt understands a little more now. Family, love, Blaine. This is life.