(Untitled)

[mediumdrip]

Who: Kurt and Blaine
When: Today
Where: Their Apartment (their bedroom)
Summary: Blaine reads the paper and reacts. Kurt comforts.
Warnings: Physical manifestations of depression. Talk of death. Possible comfort sex. Will update if needed.

Comments

[showbizpanache]

After a long procession of oil changes and tire rotations, Kurt had headed straight to the Felton for rehearsal and didn't come home until minutes before the Siren sounded. He was exhausted, but eager to see Blaine; it seemed like they had no time to spend with one another lately. Their nights were usually rather short, since they were always so tired, but Kurt had other plans. He carried with him two coffees--a medium drip and a nonfat mocha, respectively.

He'd expected to see Blaine in the living room or the kitchen area, and frowned when he didn't. "Blaine?" he said loudly, boots thumping on the tile floor as he set the coffees down on the kitchen counter.

[mediumdrip]

Blaine heard Kurt come home but he couldn't really bring himself to call out for him. He figured that Kurt would try the bedroom soon.

[showbizpanache]

He did. Kurt stood in the doorway, still toting his Gucci bag, and frowned. "Blaine?" he said again, taking a few steps forward. "What's wrong? Are you feeling sick again?"

[mediumdrip]

Blaine shifted a bit to look at him. "No. Um, it's one of my friends. Tyrell." He pushed himself up. "He was the person in the paper. The one who recused the journalist." The one who had died after it.

He had mentioned Tyrell before to Kurt, mostly just to say that he was meeting a friend for lunch. "They printed his name today."

Blaine's voice was bland. He looked away, seeming a little dazed.