If Only 3/10?
Title: If Only 3/10?
Media: Fic
Rating: NC-17
Pairings: Kurt/Blaine, past Blaine/Sebastian and Kurt/OMC. Others might appear but this is mostly about Kurt/Blaine
Spoilers (if any): Mentions of anything that happened to Klaine up until the present
Word Count: 5,865 (this part), 17k so far
Summary: "Have you ever done something so terrible that you'd give anything in the world to put it right?"
Author’s Note (if any):
This is legit the most awkward sex scene I have ever written in my life and I feel unclean now.
I've gotten a few comments of, "Noooo, don't make The Gray Gubler a villain." Please refer to this link when imagining an Evil Gubler: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=u2Ll4LAoeZE
This fic turned out WAY more angsty than I thought it would, especially this chapter. I'm pretty sure that it's going to be turning a corner either in the next chapter or the one after that and we'll get to the romance part of the genre. Imagine it like Groundhog's Day. Bill Murray's gotta kill himself like 30 times before he starts getting his shit together.
Chapter One | Chapter Two
Chapter Three
"I should just ask him, straight out."
Rachel hunched over her bent knee as she carefully applied vamp red nail polish to her baby toe. The phone was trapped between her ear and her shoulder, and she almost dropped it when she shook her head. "No, Kurt! Absolutely not! You'll seem like one of those paranoid, clingy types!"
On the other side of the city, Kurt had his phone in a similar position and his hands were full as he walked into his living room. One hand was preoccupied with chopsticks, the other holding a white and red Chinese food takeout container. He took one bite of the few-days-old, warmed up, sweet and sour pork before he made a disgusted face. He abandoned the box on the coffee table and made a mental note to get Blaine to eat it. His boyfriend was like a human garbage disposal.
"Okay, here's the one thing that never fails. Say something like 'I was doing the laundry and found a pack of condoms that aren't your brand.' If he's guilty, he'll get all nervous and betray himself."
"Oh, god, Rachel. No. That's terrible." Kurt dug under the couch, pulling out old shoeboxes that he had decoupage'd with floral tissue paper. He was working on some long overdue scrapbooking and this weekend would be perfect for it. Tucking his leg underneath him, Kurt sunk down in the middle, squishiest cushion of the couch and started taking out pictures. "Besides, he'll never believe it."
Done with her first foot, Rachel closed the lid of her nail polish and smacked the bottle against the heel of her palm as she lifted up the next. "What if you said, 'I was speaking to a friend today on the phone and she said she saw you last night.' Be completely vague about it and see how quick he tries to cover it up."
"Hmm. I suppose that's better."
"After that, you'll have to improvise-"
"Don't worry about that. But..." He pulled the phone away from his shoulder and held it up to his ear, "This is all completely unnecessary, you know. Blaine would never do anything like that to me."
"It's just a test, Kurt. No one ever died from a test."
But plenty of people found out they were dying from a test. His mind conjured up a fantasy where a man in a doctor's coat and a sheriff's badge that clearly stated 'Relationship Expert' was breaking the bad news to him. 'I'm afraid it's terminal, Mr. Hummel. Late-stage relationship cancer. I figure you have 4, 6 weeks tops.'
"I have to go. He promised he was going to be back for lunch and I just know he's going to be in a bad mood with the parade traffic. I'm going to need at least fifteen minutes of pondering to figure out the balance between how much cheering up he's going to need and how much I'm willing to do."
"Call me after!"
Kurt rolled his eyes and was already hovering his thumb over the endcall button as he replied, "Of course. Then we'll meet up for bagels and nosh as we discuss the destruction and/or rapid decline of my love life. Goodbye, Rachel."
He tossed the phone on the table and picked up a handful of pictures that hadn't been sorted out. Christmases with their families, a younger Kurt or Blaine standing in front of a NYC landmark while the other was behind the camera, sets of 'Look at me, I'm in a funny outfit' photos taken in costume shops. He made a timeline on his thighs: pre-college on his left thigh, holidays in Ohio on his left knee, college random on his right knee, post-dorms on his right thigh.
Flicking through the pictures, Kurt watched the evolution of their faces change. It was all so easy in the beginning, but they'd lost their way somewhere. Fights came a little easier. The desire to have hobbies that didn't include each other grew stronger. And now Blaine had taken to spending nights out of the apartment and showering as soon as he got home.
Kurt wasn't stupid. He'd seen enough television to know the signs. But, as he held onto a black and white picture taken in the middle of the night at a random college party, Kurt couldn't help but want to hold onto what they used to be just a little bit longer. It was so easy to remember laughing until it hurt. It was so easy to think about the times when they didn't know each other well enough yet and had to learn the sore spots and happy places. They had so much potential once upon a time.
The sound of keys turning in the lock jostled Kurt out of his reverie, and he tucked the happy picture into the middle of the pile- out of sight and out of mind. He was surprised to see Blaine covered in shiny, green, shamrock-laden necklaces, blowing as hard as he could on a vuvuzela. "WHOO! BEST ST. PATRICK'S DAY EVER!"
Kurt scoffed and stared at Blaine skeptically as he tossed his instrument in the corner. Blaine crossed the room quickly and took a seat next to him on the couch. He cupped Kurt's cheeks in his hands and time stopped for a moment as he just stared, memorizing Kurt's eyes, eyebrows, nose, mouth, chin. They were together, in their apartment, with their couch and their bed and their not-broken-up-yet-ness floating around them.
Blaine wondered how he could be so lucky as he crossed the small distance between them. Kurt expected to be kissed, but he was surprised when Blaine veered off course at the last minute to press his lips to the corner of Kurt's mouth. His thumbs stroked Kurt's jawline as he moved up, placing soft, reverent kisses on Kurt's cheek, the side of nose, one eyelid and then the other. He pulled back and licked his lips, taking a moment to savor the taste. "Happy St. Patrick's Day, baby."
Kurt pulled away and sat back on the couch as he pressed two fingertips to his lips, feeling for god knows what. He looked up at Blaine with his jaw fallen open in shock. "Are you drunk?"
Shaking his head, Blaine laughed. "Drunk is not as fun as this. Come on!" He grabbed Kurt's hands and pulled him off the couch. "Let's dance!"
The pictures fell to the ground and Kurt made a noise of frustration as he pulled out of Blaine's grip to squat down and pick them up. "Blaine!"
Blaine wasn't paying attention. He was too busy picking up Kurt's iPod and scanning through the songs to find something to dance to. He felt lighter than air as he bounced from foot to foot.
Kurt bent over, stretching his arm under the couch to grab a few pictures that had flown underneath it. "Listen, Blaine, I was talking to Rachel and she said she saw you today."
Kiss me too fiercely, hold me too tight.
I need help believing you're with me tonight.
My wildest dreamings could not foresee
Lying beside you with you wanting me.
Wrapping his arms around Kurt's waist, Blaine lifted him up and the pictures in his hand fell down to the floor again. He didn't let Kurt down until they were in the center of the living room, spinning together until Kurt stopped reaching for the lost pictures and started laughing.
He threw his arms around Blaine's neck and gave into the dance, "What has gotten into you?!"
Having learned his lesson, Blaine didn't explain. Instead, he buried his head into Kurt's shoulder and squeezed him tighter, closer. "Pinch me."
Kurt's chest shook as he laughed and pressed his cheek to the top of Blaine's head. He dragged his hand down Blaine's arm and pinched the skin on the back of his hand.
And just for this moment
As long as you're mine
I've lost all resistance and crossed some borderline.
And if it turns out it's over too fast,
I'll make every last moment last.
As long as you're mine
Blaine breathed against Kurt's neck, inhaling his scent and feeling like he was inflating himself to the point of bursting. His eyes closed as his lips touched Kurt's skin and exhaled the words, "You're still here."
"Um, yes. Yes, I am."
"You're still here," Blaine repeated. A tear broke past his eyelid and landed on Kurt's bare shoulder. Before he could say anything about it, Blaine intoned, "Your heart is the kind entangled in a tree. Go and disentangle it."
"Oh, yeah. Definitely drunk."
"I'm not."
"Were you at the parade?"
"I was! Oh, Danny Boy... The pipes, the pipes are callinggggg." It was really no wonder Kurt thought he was drunk. He felt a little drunk.
Maybe I'm brainless, maybe I'm wise.
But you've got me seeing through different eyes.
Somehow I've fallen under your spell.
And somehow I'm feeling it's "up" that I fell.
Kurt raised his hands, pulled away from Blaine and searched his eyes for something as he tangled his fingers in the other's curls. "But you hate the parade, Blaine."
"I don't anymore." He spun them, his steps quick as he maneuvered their dance towards the bedroom. "I love you. I love you, I love you, I love you."
"I love you, too." Kurt held on tight as they tumbled to the bed. With careful, well-practiced movements, Kurt maneuvered his legs to straddle Blaine's thighs and he just couldn't stop laughing as Blaine kissed his neck.
"Will you marry me?"
Kurt froze for a split second before his natural instincts laughed Blaine's words away and he repeated, "You're so drunk."
"I know, but... will you marry me?" He pulled Kurt's shirt up over his head and onto the floor, sitting up to kiss Kurt's neck.
It'd been so long since they did this sort of happy, fumbling touching and Kurt wanted more. He gave in a little, saying, "We'll talk about it tomorrow," before his arms went around Blaine. His fingers walked to the base of Blaine's spine before gripping his shirt, pulling it off, and then they were just kissing and sliding fingertips against each other's skin.
Blaine's hands gripped Kurt's waist, pulled him closer and feeling their heartbeats on top of one another. A deep moan- he'd argue later that it was definitely not a purr- came from his chest and he was filled to the brim with utter contentment.
Every moment
As long as you're mine
I'll wake up my body
And make up for lost time
Blaine wanted to do it all right this time. He wanted them to make love Kurt's way, not like he had with Sebastian. Rolling them over so that Kurt was on his back, Blaine placed his lips over Kurt's sternum, mouthing open and wet, "I want to feel you all around me." His hand cupped Kurt through his pajama bottoms, feeling him half-hard in his fingers. "Can I make love to you?"
He looked up just in time to see Kurt look away, his shoulders shrugging or fidgeting or something. Blaine tilted his head in confusion and was about to say something, but then Kurt snapped his head back to look down at him. He smiled and nodded as if he apparently had come to some sort of decision and Blaine sighed in relief.
His fingers made quick work of the drawstring of Kurt's pajama bottoms and he leaned onto an elbow as he undid his own jeans and shoved them down with his briefs. While he kicked them off and pulled the waist of Kurt's pants down and over his ankles, Kurt reached over and grabbed the bottle of lube and one of the condoms from the nightstand. He set the objects down onto the duvet, close to Blaine's hands.
They were already working on him though, stroking him tightly but gently as if Kurt were made of glass, but his mouth was lower. He ran his tongue around under the shaft before sucking one of Kurt's balls into his mouth and then the other.
"Oh, god, Blaine. Just like that." Kurt's head was back now, staring at the ceiling, and his fingers were dug into hair and tugging. Blaine swirled his tongue around, licking between and around and suckling softly at Kurt. He popped the bottle of lube open one-handed, spread some on two fingers before pressing them against the cleft of Kurt's ass.
His fingers paused, just for a second, as he lifted his head and pressed a kiss to Kurt's inner thigh. "I love you so much. I'm going to show you every second of every day for the rest of our lives." And then he's in and Kurt's pressing back onto him and his fingers are gone from Blaine's hair.
He looks up from where he's pressing gentle, feather-soft kisses, to see that Kurt's thrown an arm over his face. His other hand is balled up in a tight fist, but he loosens it in order to hold Blaine's hand around his cock. He squeezes Blaine's hand, trying to make it grip him tighter and move faster.
Blaine pulls his fingers out, adds a little more lube, and then he's got three inside Kurt who's squeezing so tightly around him. "Are you okay?"
"Yes," Kurt mumbles, almost a sigh, before saying clearly, "Please, just-"
He sounds impatient and Blaine feels like he's on top of the world for making him this way. His hands leave Kurt's body, but Kurt's doesn't and Blaine takes a moment to watch the muscles of his bicep strain as he continues fast, jerking pulls of his cock. Blaine can't take anymore- has to be inside Kurt now- so there's as little time as possible from when Blaine's fingers leave him and when he can rip open the condom with his teeth and roll it on. His hands are shaking and he can't stop looking down at Kurt, his Kurt, his perfect Kurt. He can't stop himself from repeating, "I love you."
Kurt peeks down from under his arm and he seems to stare for a moment too long before he nods and says, "I love you, too."
They've done this so many times before. Kurt knows what to do as he lifts his legs and holds them back with his hands behind his knees. Blaine kneels, his thighs pressing against the cheeks of Kurt's ass, as he lines himself up and presses in. And then he's home again.
He lays over Kurt's body and cups Kurt's neck, his thumb pushing up Kurt's chin so they can kiss while Blaine falls into the familiar motions. In his mind, he's got a Waltz rhythm. One, two, three. One, two, three. Slow and steady and Kurt lets out an "Oh!" on the thrusts that hit the right spot.
One, two, three. One, two, three.
The speed is languid, constant, and it takes longer for Blaine to come this way, lets him fuck Kurt for as long as he needs. Kurt's hand is much faster than the thrusts though, but Blaine doesn't notice. When Kurt drops his legs to wrap them around Blaine's waist, pulling him closer and squeezing him in, he does take the moment to think that his heels might leave bruises. Still, Blaine keeps up the same speed and relishes that he's giving Kurt the slow, lovely style that he's missed in their months apart.
It's only a few minutes before Kurt starts letting out these little keening moans of desperation. His hand is so fast now and Blaine realizes it's almost over. He wants to cry at the thought. He wants to stay here all day in their bed that smells like the two of them and just make love, make love, make love.
"Stop saying that!" Kurt finally snaps at him and Blaine looks confused. He didn't know he was chanting the phrase out loud but then Kurt's pulling him in, muscles flexing tightly around his cock and coming in hot, white streams up and onto his chest.
Blaine can't help but forget everything he was ever thinking or has ever thought as he falls over the edge with him. Looking down, Blaine notices Kurt's head is turned to the side. He sinks his face into Kurt's neck as he pulls out, presses in, just a few more times as they ride out the last few pulses.
Kurt taps Blaine on the shoulder and he has to blink a few times before he can lean up on his arms, hovering over Kurt and smiling. It was amazing, beautiful. He did it all right this time. He didn't tell Kurt and he never will. They'll spend the rest of their lives like this, whispering 'I love you' as they make love to the waltz.
"Can I have a little room?"
Blaine nods and pulls out reluctantly before rolling over and lying next to him. He carefully pulls off the condom and tosses it in the waste basket next to their bed before rolling over and wrapping an arm around Kurt's waist. "Let's stay here and make love all day."
Say there's no future
For us as a pair
And though I may know
I don't care!
As long as you're mine
Kurt makes some noise, some little hmm that Blaine takes as a yes. He's just so happy, relieved. He thinks that, compared to the last 10 months, this is the best day of his life.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
The instrumental opening to a familiar song is the first thing Blaine's aware of the next day.
They say we're young and we don't know.
We won't find out until we grow.
The second thing is that Kurt's not in bed next to him.
He opens his eyes wearily and his temples begin to pound with the feeling of hangover headache that's back again. He sits up in bed and sees the twin towers of pizza boxes, the sheet stapled over the window, his keyboard and guitar. He wants to cry.
They say our love won't pay the rent
Before it's earned, our money's all been spent
It's somehow easier and harder this time. He falls back in bed and ignores the ring until it goes away. He got one beautiful day with Kurt where he didn't fuck it up and break everything. It should be a blessing, but it's not good enough. He had wanted it to last forever.
He lays there for twenty minutes, staring at the ceiling and trying to puzzle it out before he comes to the only sensible conclusion.
Those garbage men cursed him.
Eventually he does get out of bed because he needs to use the bathroom and start drinking as soon as possible. The little bits of leftover wine sound extremely tempting. At least, he thinks, it'll last him long enough until he can make his way down to the liquor store.
Making his way to the kitchen again, his routine changes. This time, he's tired of the tube socks that catch over his toes and he lifts up his feet to yank them off and throw them across the room. He does it like it's their fault that he's here and Kurtless and confused and what the fuck is life even about?
He doesn't even get the chance to open the fridge and live in a life of blissful ignorance. The wedding invitation sits there, magnetized in place and mocking him with its existence. It's only with some masochistic form of self-abuse that he takes it off and stares at it as he pulls a bottle of wine out.
'Kurt Hummel and Erik Malone request the presence of David Pierce' blah blah blah.
He's tilting back the bottle, wine dribbling out the corner of his mouth as his eyes catch the difference. It's only because he'd stared at this one significant detail for so many weeks that he notices it.
'On March the 1st, 2018'
"It's not today." His mind starts to catch up and Blaine realizes that- while he didn't fix anything because he's still in this shitty apartment and Kurt's still getting married- he did manage to change the future. The present. Whatever.
He did go back in time. It's not a dream. But he can't seem to fucking fix anything. While he takes solace in the fact that he's changed something, it's not good enough because Kurt's still not with him. The only difference now is that he just doesn't know why.
Blaine realizes he needs answers. He has to know what happened between St. Patrick's Day and now that changed everything for them. So he tosses the wine bottle into the sink and grabs his phone from his jeans that still sit in the doorway of his bedroom.
It only takes a second for his fingers to type out the familiar phone number and he's rubbing his scalp as he says to the person on the other end of the line, "I need to talk to you."
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Kurt's dressed in a black pea coat, his leather gloves sticking out of his pocket as he sits on a park bench. All ten of his fingers are gripped around a cup of coffee. There's another one on the bench, medium drip as usual, and Blaine picks it up and stares at it as he takes the seat next to him.
It's completely silent for fifteen minutes, but neither of them even pays attention to that fact as they work out in their heads the opening gambit. Eventually it's Kurt who breaks the ice.
"What did you want to talk about?"
Blaine bends forward, his elbows on his knees as he rolls the coffee cup between his palms. "Okay, this is going to seem insane, and you're not going to believe me."
That got Kurt's attention and he crosses his legs towards Blaine, waiting for him to continue.
"I need to know why we broke up."
Kurt reacts like he got slapped in the face and he turns back on the bench to stare straight ahead. "You know why we broke up."
Blaine huffs and it's a puff of white in the cold winter air. "You'd be surprised how little I know." He's not going to try to explain magic or time travel or selective amnesia or anything like that, so he grits his teeth and lies, "I need to know for the sake of closure. Pretend that I have no idea."
Nodding, Kurt seems to accept that as a reason. He takes a long sip of his drink before he starts to explain.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Kurt hasn't gone to a Wal-Mart in ages. It seems like every time he has a reason to go for something cheap and easily replaceable, Blaine's got a reason to stop him from going. But Rachel got a run in her pantyhose, they're too far away from her apartment to go back there, and he needed a new toothbrush anyway. So here he is.
His eyes are scanning over brand names and flexible handles and rubber grips and blue bristles and pointed bristles and tongue scrapers when a voice startles him out of his thoughts.
"Do you think all of these are approved by the American Dental Association?"
Kurt glanced to his left and he can't even help that he always sizes people up by their clothing choices. The man's dressed expensively, but in all the wrong ways. He's wearing light brown corduroy trousers, a stark white dress shirt with the sleeves rolled up over his elbows, and a black tie is loose around his neck. He wants to get into the man's closet and readjust his entire idea of outfits because they're the right items in the wrong sequence.
He notices there's no one else in the aisle, realizes the stranger must be talking to him, and shrugs as he responds, "Are we going for a Macaulay Culkin reference here or do you really just care that much about certification?"
The man grins, a little goofy and pointed up at the ends, and winks- actually winks- in response. "You caught me. It's all a clever ruse to quiz handsome strangers to see if they're worth talking to."
Kurt actually has to look away, bite his cheek to keep from laughing. He's always had a soft spot for people who have high standards, especially those who think he passes them. When Kurt turns back, he takes in the other man a little more carefully this time. Despite the clothes, the stranger's young, taller than he is, and wearing glasses that remind him of the 1950s and make him look smart. "Oh, I see. Very clever. I'm glad to see I pass your test, Mister..."
A hand comes out from one of his pants pockets and Kurt takes it in his own as the stranger says, "Malone. Call me Erik. Now, correct me if I'm wrong, but your clothes seem to be telling me 'does not shop at Wal-Mart' and yet you're here."
"Clever and astute. I'm Kurt. Hummel. And you're absolutely correct. I'm just here for a friend. Do you want to go three for three, Mr. Malone?"
It's all very sudden and startling to Kurt when he realizes 'I'm flirting.' And then, 'Shit. I'm flirting.' He grabs a toothbrush at random and throws it in his cart, but he's given Erik an opening.
And Erik's going to take it.
"You're sad."
"I'm not sad." Kurt scoffs and pushes the cart down the aisle quickly. Run away, run away.
Erik's long legs catch up with him easily and it doesn't take long for them to be walking side by side as they head towards the clothing section in the middle of the store. "Oh, you don't know yet? That's even worse."
"I'm not sad." Kurt's teeth are grinding together and he picks up the pace just a little more. If he can get to Rachel, he's that much closer to checking out and escape. Besides, she's an excellent buffer and she might just scare the guy off.
Erik's not having any of it, though. He walks faster, over taking Kurt and the cart and blocking their way. He holds onto the end of it so Kurt can't back up or go around. "Wait! I just figured it out!"
Kurt doesn't respond. Uselessly, he tries to pull back and reverse, then attempts to push forward and run him over. But Erik doesn't let go.
"You're lying to yourself and you have been for a long time. Do you even know who you are anymore?"
Rolling his eyes, Kurt grabs the few items he's collected. They're easily enough to hold in his hands and he abandons the cart in an effort to just get the fuck out of there. Fast, fast, fast.
It's a blessing that Erik doesn't follow, but he doesn't have to. The words are implanted in Kurt's mind, stuck with him on repeat. He barely notices dinner or pays Rachel any attention as he looks back on his life before Blaine. Later, when he gets home, Kurt finds a business card in his pocket that reads Erik Malone.
It takes a week. It takes until there's a night when Blaine's out of the house and Kurt can't stand thinking anymore before he calls. Erik remembers him.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Kurt's in the alley next to his apartment building. It's risky, but it's after 2 am and the risk is at least half of the point. Maybe less.
Maybe more.
Erik's hard against him, hands are up his shirt, palms are pressed against his stomach, when he asks Kurt to get on his knees. The street is fucking filthy and Kurt protests because that's what Kurt Hummel says. Kurt Hummel's clothes aren't meant to be ruined in a fit of passion by kneeling in god knows what. Absolutely not.
Erik's mouthing at his ear, pressing him against the brick wall, and he says, "You know you don't really care. You want to. Tell me you don't want to again and I won't push, but stop saying no if you mean yes."
That's when Kurt falls a little bit more in love with Erik. He doesn't agree out loud, but he does agree.
Later, he's unlocking the door and thanking god that he was wearing black jeans. He thinks the stains on his knees don't look too obvious. He needs to take a shower but Blaine's still up. He's sitting on the couch that Kurt reupholstered with his own hands. The only light on in their place is the one next to him and he closes the book he was reading.
"Hi."
Blaine puts the book aside and scoots to the edge of the couch. "Hey. You're home late."
"Mm-hmm." Kurt doesn't have an excuse and he's hoping Blaine doesn't ask for one.
"Listen, this is going to sound insane, but I was going to take out some clothes to the dry cleaner's, and I picked up one of your jackets, and a pair of men's underwear fell out of the pocket. They definitely weren't either of ours."
Kurt tosses his keys into the porcelain bowl by the door and unbuttons his coat. He stares Blaine directly in the eye and raises an eyebrow as he repeats, "A pair of men's underwear? Which weren't yours or mine?"
"Yep. Found em while I was cleaning up."
After hanging up his jacket, Kurt goes into the kitchen to keep his hands busy. He grabs the kettle off of the stove and sits it under the tap to fill. "Can I see them?"
"Well, no. I threw them in the bag and they're at the dry cleaner's now." Blaine's voice is suddenly closer and Kurt turns around to see him digging through the cabinet for the tea bags. Blaine's been trying so hard lately. He lets Kurt pick out every movie they go see, lets him drive Blaine's car like an old lady without complaint, picks up after himself.
Kurt jumps up to sit on the counter, crossing his legs as Blaine hands him the variety pack of tea to pick out the ones he wants. "Are you sure they weren't mine? I did just get some new the other day."
"I know. I was there with you. They weren't yours."
The tiling of the kitchen is suddenly the most interesting in the world as the gears in Kurt's head turn. "Hmm. Well, I honestly don't know where they could've come from unless some of the more frisky gay and homeless are stuffing them in my coat when I'm not looking. Reverse pick-pocketing?"
Blaine leans back against a chair, his arms crossed as he stares Kurt down skeptically.
This strategy isn't working so Kurt decides to go on the defensive. "Oh, god, you think I'm having an affair or something?"
That works. Blaine's crossing the room and Kurt opens his legs so he can step between them. His hands rub up and down Kurt's thighs as he leans forward and rests his forehead against Kurt's shoulders. "You can understand, right? I mean, you'd think the same thing. It was probably like you said, just a homeless guy or something. Let's just forget about it."
The tea kettle starts whistling and Blaine kisses Kurt's forehead before moving to take it off and pour them each a cup. Kurt jumps off of the counter and crosses their apartment to the bedroom. He needs to put space between them. "No, no, don't worry. It's forgotten."
Blaine raises his voice so it carries far enough to say, "Look, I'm sorry if it sounds like I don't trust you."
The first thing Kurt sees in their bedroom is the bag they use for dry cleaning. It's empty. There are clothes piled next to it that are not machine-wash. His heart clenches in his chest and he begins stuffing the laundry in the bag. He's kind of freaking out. His hands are shaking as he finishes the chore and he decides to vent his anger by tossing the bag as hard as he can in the corner. It hits the dresser hard enough to wobble it. On top was Blaine's guitar and it falls off, the neck snapping off of the base.
Kurt immediately swears and picks up the pieces. The strings are still intact, but he's got the neck in one hand and the base in the other.
Blaine's standing in the doorway, holding two saucers with a cup on each and staring at Kurt like the world's fallen apart.
"It's broken."
"Yeah."
Kurt takes a seat on the edge of the bed, setting the guitar to the side and holds his hands in his lap. "I can't do this anymore, Blaine. I can't keep lying to you."
"I don't understand."
"I'm moving out."
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Blaine's got his head in his hands, hot tears falling down his cheeks as he stares at ants crawling on the sidewalk. The world must look so damn big to them.
"It's not your fault. We just- We kept changing for each other, you know? We became these caricatures of each other. You think I'm this person who only cares about nice clothes and romance. Instead of letting us evolve, we fell into this routine of loving who we thought each other were."
Blaine still can't speak, can only listen. His mind's swimming and he thinks he's going to throw up.
"Looking back, I think I knew last year when you started pulling away, so I started pulling away. The distance gave me the time to realize that I didn't even know who I was anymore. I was thinking about it before I ever even met Erik. It wasn't his fault he could see it. It was us."
Last year. Blaine remembers when he first met up with Sebastian again, and that that was when he started pulling away and hiding things from Kurt.
Fucking Sebastian.
Kurt's still talking, but Blaine's not listening anymore. It all hurts too much. He wipes his faces with his hands, tries to wake up the skin that's so cold it hurts. "Thanks for this. I just needed to hear it."
"Blaine-"
The rest of the night goes by in a blur of drinking and trying not to think about it.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
When Blaine wakes up the next morning, he's cold and hugging his jacket around him. He's sitting up already, his back hurts, and a seatbelt's biting into his shoulder. He wipes the sleep out of his eyes as he glances out the window to see David there, grinning at him and dancing in place with a tray of coffees. They're parked at a gas station.
"Roll down the window already. Need. Coffee. Now."
The voice behind him startles him and he spins around the seat to see Sebastian there. He's sprawled out in the backseat with a pair of sunglasses over his eyes. He looks still asleep if it weren't for his hand held out, clutching at air.
Blaine presses the button on the window and, as it slowly drops, he mutters, "Definitely cursed."
To Be Continued...
Picture Kurt was looking at on the couch:
