likesboys | my dreams are nothing like they were meant to be, and i'm breaking down, i think i'm breaking down

It's been well over a month since he and Kurt broke up and, in that time, Blaine's gotten better at trying to not actively look for Kurt during the day. They still share a couple classes and live only a few floors apart so they often see each other without Blaine even trying. And there are the few lunch meetings they've managed recently, each one a little easier than the last as they both try to ease back into friendship. It's still hard for Blaine to look at Kurt and not want to kiss him, but it's slowly getting more comfortable just to exist around him and that's all Blaine can ask for.

But when Kurt doesn't show up for class on Wednesday, Blaine definitely notices. And when he doesn't see him on his way to work the next morning, he notices. He sends a few texts while at work, simple and not too intrusive, just checking up. When he gets nothing in return hours later, he calls. And Kurt doesn't answer.

He spends that night wondering if Kurt has decided that it's just too hard to be friends, that he's cut him off cold again. Though he knows it's something he'll have to respect, it still hurts to think about, and Blaine doesn't sleep very well as a result, tossing and turning in his bed, waking up every hour to the same, swirling thoughts until morning makes him peel himself out of bed and stumble to class.

Again, Kurt is missing and, this time, Blaine starts to panic. He calls into work and heads straight home, bypassing his own floor to head straight to Kurt's apartment. There's every likelihood that Kurt's just sick, holed up in bed with the flu or a bad cold. But this is Darrow; Blaine's seen too many horrors here to not fear the worst. He considers calling up Lisbeth, but quickly reconsiders when he remembers how she'd looked the last time he'd seen her. This is something he needs to do on his own. He needs to find Kurt.

He knocks on the door, more perfunctory than anything else, before pulling out his key, the one Kurt's never asked him to return. Peeking his head in, Blaine's mildly relieved to see that nothing looks too out of place and, swallowing back the cloying terror in his belly, he calls out, "Kurt! Kurt, it's just me. It's Blaine."

He hears the noise in the apartment even through the weight of his covers, emerging slightly with a pounding headache and tousled hair. In spite of having no plans to head out into the city, Kurt still makes sure to clean himself up every day, face washed and teeth brushed. It's the eating that's more difficult. And he nestles himself in the depths of a hoodie, forgoing his closet and hairspray alike. Fear nestles itself uncomfortable in his stomach, but Kurt pushes past it, one faint shred of hope emerging that he might find his dad at the door, might be able to get him to a hospital, get him a second opinion or a better doctor.

Blaine's voice sounds just as he slips out of his bedroom, and Kurt lets out a shaky breath.

"I'm here," he says quietly, ruffling at his hair and fighting down the fresh new wave of hopelessness that washes over him. "I'm fine."

Blaine's nearly knocked sideways by a wave of relief when he hears Kurt's voice, his heart jumping halfway to his throat when he actually sees him. Kurt's hair is a mess, ruffled and unkempt in a way it never is, and he looks tired and worn. He looks...

"Oh god, what happened?" Blaine says, moving swiftly, but stopping right in front of Kurt, arms awkwardly at his side. He has no idea if a hug is too much right now, no idea what Kurt might need.

But at least he's alive.

It crosses Kurt's mind briefly that all that it feels like the majority of what Blaine's seen of him has been while he's a crying mess, unkempt and completely incapable of bothering with his appearance. He hates the thought as soon as it strikes him, because it makes him feel pathetic, because it shouldn't matter compared to everything else that's suddenly come up, and Kurt takes a deep breath in an effort to try and cleanse himself of these thoughts.

The effort isn't entirely effective.

"I, um..." Kurt blinks, closing his eyes and brow furrowing. "I got a folder on my nightstand three days ago. I don't know how it got there or who put it there, but it's a medical file. Of my dad's. Apparently, he was diagnosed with colon cancer."

"Oh," Blaine breathes, stunned and confused and horrified all at once. "Oh, Kurt."

He isn't thinking about boundaries or what they are or are not anymore when he wraps his arms tight around Kurt and pulls him in close. Because, regardless of anything else, Kurt is his friend, his best friend and he knows exactly what Kurt's father means to him. He's everything in a way Blaine can't ever really hope to fully understand. And it's hard enough for him to be here without his dad as it is; knowing this, if it's real and even if it's not... Blaine, can't even imagine how awful he must feel. How helpless.

His own eyes stinging a little, Blaine holds him tighter very briefly before pulling back to meet his eyes. "Are you sure it's real? I mean... this place is crazy, Kurt. It might just be trying to mess with you."

Only when he feels Blaine's arms wrapped tight around me does Kurt finally let his walls down for a second, back immediately buckling as he buries his face against Blaine's shoulder, shaking as a few tears fall free and immediately seep into the fabric. All too soon, Blaine pulls back, leaving Kurt lightheaded and dizzy as he struggles to stand straight and pay attention to Blaine's words, deep breaths taken in vain. It's nothing that Kurt hasn't had time to consider in the three days he's kept holed up. It's nothing that he hasn't thought of.

"Even if it isn't real... there's nothing to show that my dad's fine. He's already had a heart attack, Blaine, who knows what other medical complications are going to crop up? The longer I'm here, the greater chance there is that I'm missing something major back home. And, even if this place was trying to mess with me, well, good job. I'm a perfect target, because I can't see that folder and keep calm," Kurt says, breath staggered as he shakes his shoulders slightly to release the tension.

"It's in my bedroom," he says, glancing back at his room with absolutely no desire to head back inside. "I don't know how to read half of those forms."

Blaine keeps his hands on Kurt's arms, needing to keep him close as Kurt explains. As many times as he's seen Kurt cry before, it never gets any easier and, without thinking, Blaine reaches up to gently wipe his cheeks dry before settling his hand at the base of Kurt's neck, squeezing faintly.

"No, I know," he says, his voice quiet, trying for calming even though he knows there's no way for Kurt to keep calm in the face of something like this. Absolutely no way.

With a hopeless sigh, Blaine pulls him in close again, closing his eyes tight against the pain in his own chest, far more in empathy than anything else right now. Because however much he longs for Kurt to take him back, it means nothing compared to what Kurt's facing right now. Nothing at all. And Blaine would give anything to take that file away and wipe every memory of it from Kurt's mind, would give even more to have Mr. Hummel here because, ultimately, he's the only one who can make this better.

His breath is far too fast for Kurt to get a word in edgewise, so he simply blinks up towards the ceiling and accepts the embrace, arms tentatively reaching up to hook over Blaine's shoulders. It feels impossible to disentangle himself now that he's in Blaine's hold, strong and warm, holding him upright, and Kurt nuzzles his face underneath the line of Blaine's jaw with a few deep breaths to calm the panic in his chest, heart fluttering like wings beating against a cage.

"I just hate not knowing what's going on. I'm tired of not knowing what's possible and what isn't when I step outside the door, I'm tired of being unable to hear from anyone outside of Darrow, tired of biking towards the edge of the city and suddenly finding myself heading back towards it. Tired of... of wondering how my friends are doing, and I didn't even think that my dad was going to fall ill, and," Kurt shudders, staggering through his breath as he shakes his head, face buried against the side of Blaine's neck. "God, there's so much going on back home that we can't know or control, and then it just comes here and hits us in the face. Even losing you..."

Swallowing thickly, Kurt winces against the pain in his throat. "What if the next time that happens, I find out my father's passed away?"

Blaine's glad Kurt can't see the way he winces when Kurt mentions him and he certainly isn't about to call attention to the issues between them when there's this to worry about. All he wants right now is to be here, to hold Kurt and be whatever Kurt needs right now, even if that means just being a rather large Kleenex and someone to keep him hydrated.

"God, Kurt, you can't think like that," he murmurs, running one hand up and down Kurt's back slowly, the other still curled lightly at the hair at the base of his neck. "You'll just drive yourself crazy with it. I hate this place too, you know? I hate that I have no idea what's happening with any of our friends, I hate that we can't go anywhere, we can't travel, we can't see all those amazing things in the world we've only read about in history books. I hate that there's always something waiting to knock us off balance and there's nothing we can do about it and--" He cuts himself off with a frustrated breath. There's no point in dwelling on any of that too much. Kurt knows it all and Blaine's agreement isn't going to help.

He changes tactics.

"I think there's probably a version of us still back there," he says, nose brushing Kurt's jaw gently. "And, even if there isn't, he has Ms. Hudson. She's a nurse, right? I'm sure she's taking excellent care of him. And Finn, too. Everyone loves your dad, Kurt; I'm sure people are lining up to help him as much as possible."

There's never been any doubt in Kurt's mind that all the people in the world who love Burt Hummel are sure to gather around to try and keep him as healthy as possible. If he's to believe that realities branch off into their different potential ends, then Kurt also believes that there's some version of events where Burt still has him by his side — but it seems just as likely that there's another reality where Kurt isn't there as a result of being in the city, in Darrow. But perhaps even worse than that is the fact that Kurt still can't feel calmed by even the knowledge that there are other people who can probably take care of Burt's medical needs far better than he can.

He shudders, not quite fighting against Blaine's hold, but not drawing full comfort from it either. Laying his burdens down feels like giving up, feels like throwing a veil of ignorance over his eyes, and he wants none of that, as though carrying this weight on top of his chest might somehow offer some type of good to the ether.

"I know that Carole's probably doing her best. I know she wouldn't want to — she can't — losing another husband would just be," Kurt shivers suddenly like a leaf in the wind, feeling about as strong as well, before squeezing his eyes tightly shut. "But what if I can't handle this? What if I'm the one who can't deal without him?"

It's not a question that Blaine can answer, Kurt knows. Still.

Of course, that's the real question. For Blaine, that's the entire issue. Because as much as Blaine genuinely cares for, respects, and admires Mr. Hummel, it's Kurt he loves more than anything. And it's Kurt's pain he's seeing now, Kurt's anguish and hopelessness that needs comforting. As horrible as it is, there's absolutely nothing they can do about anything back home. All they can do is make the best of what they have here.

And there's nothing, nothing in Blaine's control that can fix this. Not a single thing.

"Well, you've... you've been dealing without him for almost a year already," he points out, his tone quiet and careful. It's probably not the best thing to say, but it's no less true. Pulling back a little again, Blaine cradles Kurt's wet cheek with one hand, thumb brushing over his damp skin. "I'd like to think that doesn't mean you won't ever see him again, but that's not-- I have the feeling we don't get to decide any of that. Not here. But your dad... he's raised you to be so strong, Kurt. Independent and capable. You can deal without him and that's exactly what he would want."

Even though Kurt knows that he'd never want to be told to have faith in an outcome that no one can truly guarantee, somehow the lack of that type of reassurance only twists his stomach further. It's telling, that there's no positive outcome for this, that there's no fix and no comfort to be found, only varying degrees of dealing. Only guesses, faint and searching blindly. He can think himself into as deep a spiral as he wants, he can careen out of control, but Blaine's doing his best to keep Kurt from dipping that far. He should appreciate this.

But it's hard. His entire body still aches and his lungs never seem to fill with quite enough air, a shaky inhale passing between his teeth as he shivers again, leaning slightly into the warmth by his cheek.

"I just don't want to worry about any of this anymore," Kurt admits, the words with slightly more implied behind them, something dark and distant and that Kurt doesn't want to draw any closer than it already has, but sometimes he can't stop his thoughts from heading there. It's hard. Ever since death was a concept he was forced to understand at all, it's always been there on the table, there in his periphery. "I don't want to deal. It just makes things worse."

The pure hopelessness in Kurt's tone makes Blaine ache all over. Kurt's seen more adversity than anyone Blaine's ever known and he's always come through it with his head held high, all the more determined to make life worth living. Of course, Blaine hasn't seen him, hadn't even known him through most of the worst of it, but Blaine is certain it started young.

And hates to see it slipping away now, hates to think that there could ever be something that's just too much for Kurt to handle.

Frown deepening, Blaine drops both hands into Kurt's, squeezing tightly as he looks right at him. "Okay, then let's not," he says, still keeping his voice quiet. "How about you go back to bed and I'll put a movie in and make you dinner. And we can just... watch and forget for awhile. And we can talk if you want to, but if you don't, that's okay, too."

"I'm not hungry," Kurt shakes his head, tugging a hand away to massage as his brows, already aching from his frown as he takes half a step back, conflicted for a second as he debates heading into the living room or disappearing back under his covers. He doesn't want to be back in the bedroom with the files spread out over his desk, but the bed sounds more inviting than the couch, so he turns back around, head pounding in his ears before he realizes that his other hand is still caught in Blaine's grip.

Not having the strength to pull himself yet again away from Blaine, Kurt simply stares up at Blaine, his expression slightly passive and gaze not quite focused.

It's not that he can't find a way to be productive if he really wanted to, but seeing a point in that all is the bigger question at hand right now. He can't remember the last time he had so little to fight for. No future in the city that serves as an oversized snow globe. No family. Fewer friends than he's had since sophomore year of high school.

Everything just seems to slide further and further away from him.

When Kurt looks at him then, eyes red and cheeks damp, looking so small and scared and hopeless, for one intense moment, all Blaine wants to do is kiss him. It won't fix anything, of course. It won't make anything better. But he remembers so clearly how Kurt has melted into him before in times similar to these, when the anxiety and the homesickness and the fear got to be a little too much. They could find refuge in each other and, for that moment, everything was easier.

But Blaine can't do that now. As much as he wants to, he may not ever get to again.

Swallowing tightly, he pushes the impulse aside and squeezes Kurt's hand tighter instead. His voice is a little shaky when he speaks again. "How long has it been since you've eaten, Kurt? Please, just... let me make something. Soup and sandwiches, okay? Nothing fancy."

"I ate yesterday," Kurt offers helplessly with a soft breath, his voice devoid of any fighting, because he knows that this is something he can't protest against. Everything tastes like sand when he puts it in his mouth, but complaining about such a thing seems so self-centered, counterproductive to the goal of getting home and sure to put Blaine into a needless spiral of worry. With a soft exhale, conceding, Kurt nods once before pulling his hand away and heading towards the open door of his room.

"I'll just... be in here, okay?" he asks once he's a step inside, not bothering to close the door behind him as he sinks down on the edge of the mattress, pulling the blanket up and over his shoulders. He doesn't feel like lying down just yet; there's no point in making his surroundings swim more than it already feels like they are.

Kurt's reply is unsurprising, and Blaine manages to bite back the impulse to scold him. It's really more out of worry than anything else, but the last thing he wants is for Kurt to feel worse about anything and that's certainly not going to make him feel any better.

He's only a little relieved when Kurt doesn't really put up much argument and instead heads back to the bedroom, and Blaine nods quickly.

"Sandwiches it is then," he says with a small, strained smile as he heads for the kitchen.

It's been well over a month now since he spent any significant time in Kurt's apartment, but he still knows where most everything is (it seems like Kurt did do a little rearranging, but it doesn't take long for Blaine to figure it out) and in only a few minutes, he's made them each a ham and turkey sandwich, complete with all the condiments and extras he knows Kurt likes best.

After knocking lightly on the doorjamb, Blaine walks into the bedroom carrying both sandwiches and a large glass of water, setting both on the nightstand by Kurt's bed (as he tries hard not to remember how it used to be their bed) and gently sits on the edge, his hand resting on Kurt's back. "Just... try to eat a few bites, okay? And I brought some water, too. Dehydrating yourself isn't going to help anything."

He forgets to act until Blaine steps into the bedroom, forgets to move and perhaps even to breathe until the sound suddenly jolts him back to awareness, eyes following Blaine's progress into the room and passively eyeing the sandwiches on the plates. Trying for some sort of regular movement, for some faint hint of normalcy, Kurt rubs at his upper arm. The movement jostles him just enough that his head starts to ache all over again, and Kurt shifts on the edge of his bed, just enough to reach into the top drawer of his nightstand for his bottle of ibuprofen, popping a couple of tablets in his mouth and reaching for the water to take a few slow, even gulps of water.

"I know what I need to do to take care of myself," Kurt says quietly, setting the glass back down with a tap, his brow furrowing more deeply in contemplation. Why he feels a need to reaffirm this fact, Kurt isn't quite sure. Maybe to keep him feeling some shade of human. Maybe to stop Blaine's tone from sounding as worried as it does. "It's just been hard to make myself care, that's all. I'm sorry. I know I can't be easy to deal with right now."

It comes out softer than Kurt intends. Truth be told, there's still part of him that wants to tell Blaine to leave and let well enough alone. But there's a greater part that feels like it might unravel and break entirely if Blaine leaves now.

"I'm not dealing with you," Blaine says, carefully keeping his voice calm and even while still rubbing slow circles against Kurt's back, over the thick blanket. "This isn't a chore, Kurt. And I know there isn't really anything I can do to make it better, but you're still my best friend and there's no place in the world I'd rather be. This world or any other, actually."

It's probably more than Kurt wants or needs to hear, so he smooths his hand up further, squeezing what he can of Kurt's shoulder before standing up again, keeping his head ducked.

"C'mon, let's watch something," he says, turning to wander toward the TV across the room and crouching at the display of DVDs on the shelf beside it. "I'm thinking Disney. Aladdin, maybe? That's always a good one."

Kurt feels a surge of doubt at Blaine's words. There's another place and another world that Blaine would prefer to be in, Kurt's sure. Some other world where they're not broken up yet, where Blaine doesn't have to deal with Kurt at such a distance and all the fears that come with it. He doesn't say as much, though, not wanting to bring up even more problems to complicate the moment. His task is to try and keep something down, try to relax a little, try to be functional enough to head back to work, perhaps tomorrow, and not lose his job. (He's pretty sure Darrow's people will be more understanding, but even that in of itself worries Kurt. Nothing comes without a price.)

"I guess a little Robin Williams never hurt anyone," he remarks neutrally, watching Blaine crouch down next to their shelf of DVDs. Kurt was never able to hand most of them over, save for a couple of Blaine's favorites that Kurt could never abide watching. His eyes stop briefly at Moulin Rouge, but he shakes that thought away. The singing might be nice, but.

Instead, he turns to his sandwiches, sliding up to a seat against his headboard and placing the plate down on his lap.

"My thoughts exactly," Blaine says, more than a little relieved for Kurt's agreement as he pops open the DVD case and pulls out the disc.

He quickly busies himself with readying the TV and player, not stepping away until the opening sounds of the Disney theme sound a little too loudly through the whole room. After turning down the volume a little, he heads back toward the bed, smiling when he sees Kurt resting against the headboard and idly poking at the sandwich. His gaze drifts to the open space beside him, the space where, two months ago, Blaine had slept on a nightly basis and he approaches cautiously.

"Is it okay if I sit with you?" he asks, not wanting to presume, but also not prepared to leave Kurt like this. If he has to, he'll drag in a chair from the other room or simply sit on the floor. But he really, really does not want to leave.

Kurt starts to try and tear at his sandwich. He thinks about all the tactics he's learned through popular media to distort the look of food on his plate, he thinks about how all he has to do is make it look messy for people to believe that he's had some, but... somehow, he's pretty sure he won't be able to slide that past Blaine's notice. He's also pretty sure that he won't want that in the long run, that the desire to keep food away and at bay is just a temporary thing, just him wanting space and time to adjust. But bodies don't function that way.

He needs to eat.

So he tears off a piece just small enough for a single bite, looking up to catch Blaine's gaze in time to hear his question. There isn't too much hesitation before he slides slightly to the side, making more room for Blaine.

"Please," he says quietly, gaze imploring.

Determined to not let his relief be too evident, Blaine only gives a quiet nod before slipping his shoes off very quickly and climbing up to sit at Kurt's side. He's mindful to stay above the covers and he glances over, pleased to see that though Kurt appears to be picking at his sandwich more than eating it, he's at least managed a bite. It's a start.

He sits closer than he probably should, but he needs to feel the press of Kurt's arm against his own, a quiet reminder that he's still there.

As the movie starts with the familiar notes of "Arabian Nights," he glances over again, nodding toward the nightstand on Kurt's other side. "Can you pass my the other sandwich?"

The bright colors and swirl of the smoke on the screen are really far from anything that Kurt cares to put his attention towards, but at least it's familiar, no surprises to be expected. Somehow, it seems to figure that Disney would make its way over to Darrow, of all things. Disney seems to be everywhere.

Pulling in a deep breath at Blaine's words, Kurt nods and reaches over for the sandwiches, arm straining slightly as he hands them off to Blaine. Feeling his warmth down the line of his arm is comforting, grounding, and Kurt feels that impossible surge of nostalgia now, missing Blaine. Missing this, and finding the tiniest of details off, right down to the way Blaine keeps himself above the covers.

Sliding slightly down on the bed, Kurt silently shifts until he's able to rest his head against Blaine's shoulder, turning slightly in and towards the heat.

"Thank you," Blaine says quietly, barely loud enough to be heard over the TV.

Setting the plate on his lap, Blaine picks up the untouched sandwich and takes a bite, wiping faintly at the corner of his mouth as he chews. He keeps his eyes on the television, though he remains hyperaware of Kurt's proximity, the warmth of his arm pressed to Blaine's. The tightness in his chest unravels a little when, after awhile, Kurt slides down to rest more comfortably against him. It's a subtle movement, but impossible to mistake for anything else and Blaine lets out a slow, even breath.

Carefully, he pulls off another small bite of Kurt's sandwich and gently offers it to him. "I won't make you eat the whole thing, but just a little more, okay?" he says, his voice quiet and warm.

It's Kurt's actions that say what words can't in the moment, nestled close enough that he feels every fold of Blaine's clothes up against the curve of his cheek. Blaine pulls off a portion of his sandwich, just enough for a bite, holding it out in offering — and Kurt feels a slight twinge in his chest, because it's yet another reminder of just how weak he's somehow become. He's not sure how it happened, some mix of the city and the rush of memories that came to him, no choice or agency afforded.

In the moment, Blaine feels so much stronger, and Kurt can't help but wonder at that. Not that he's ever doubted Blaine's strength.

Taking the bite in hand and pressing it gently into his mouth, Kurt chews, slow and searching for flavor. Instead, he finds himself focusing on comforts that should feel like anything but, the mere scent of Blaine's shirt enough to make his eyes feel heavy, ready to close.

Edited 2013-03-07 05:40 (UTC)

Blaine's honestly surprised when Kurt doesn't argue, but simply takes the piece offered with and chews it. He can feel the movement of Kurt's jaw against his arm, another small amount of familiarity in the moment that makes his chest ache all the more. A part of him can't help but wonder if his presence here is only making things worse, if Kurt really is better off just handling this on his own.

But Blaine can't bear to leave. He would, of course, if Kurt were to ask him. But he isn't going to choose to do so on his own.

Pulling in a quiet, slow breath, Blaine tugs off another bite, repeating the motion. He's sure that, at some point, Kurt will turn or shove him away, but he's going to try as much as possible right now. Kurt's lost enough weight in Darrow already, even more so in the past two months; Blaine refuses to watch him waste away, even from afar.

The songs playing in the background are far too happy, the colors grating in comparison to how Kurt feels, not so much like a raincloud threatens above, but instead a fog that he can't see very far into, fear enveloping him with the wonder of what lies just beyond his sight. Blaine's the only thing that cuts through it in the moment, his presence tangible and tactile, and Kurt continues to curl slightly further in against Blaine's body, turning towards him and half of his arm curled over Blaine's chest as he slowly eats the sandwich.

It settles in his stomach, an uncomfortable weight, but judging by the growling of his stomach, it's still sustenance he desperately needs.

Ignoring the white noise of the movie, there's still a silence that quickly slips under Kurt's skin, makes his brows furrow as he briefly presses his nose against the fabric of Blaine's shirt.

"I've missed you."

Again, Kurt takes the bite without complaint, chewing slowly as he stays settled against Blaine's side. When a little over half the sandwich is gone, Blaine sets the rest aside, shifting just a little and very, very carefully as to not disrupt Kurt too much. It feels like a gift to have Kurt so close, though even thinking that makes him feel immediately guilty. The news on Kurt's father is definitely anything but a gift; he isn't here to take advantage of that.

Still, when Kurt whispers, he can't deny the way his heart does a somersault and his stomach tightens.

He swallows tightly, at first sure he must've misheard. He waits for his heartbeat to settle a little before lifting a hand to lightly brush over Kurt's hair. "I've missed you too," he whispers, utterly sincere. Unsure what else is safe to reveal, he doesn't say anything more for a long moment, his hand lightly tracing down the curve of Kurt's cheek. It's not at all sexual, not even romantic -- though Blaine has a hard time imagining ever touching Kurt in a way that isn't at least somewhat romantic -- but meant to comfort as much as he can.

Quietly, he adds, "You can sleep if you want. I won't mind. And I'll... if you want, I can stay here. In the other room, I mean. Just for the night so you're not alone."

There's a sort of love that runs deeper than romance alone, a sort of love that doesn't quite hit that chord and yet stretches far past it. Kurt's always been conscious of it, but language and culture alike have made it easier for him to view the world in easy circles, in binaries false and not always convenient. Romantic and platonic. Black and white, sometimes gray, but now he discovers colors when he's least sure in his ability to process them. Bent in grief, it's Blaine's words — I've missed you too — obvious and yet so, so not that break the dam inside of Kurt, quiet tears falling as he reaches for Blaine's sleeve and closes a hand tight around it, and if he's already lost so much, can't even hold onto the perception of safety and distance, then he cannot lose this.

He's not sure what he'd do if he did.

"Please don't go," he says quietly, his voice breaking between the words. "Please don't go somewhere I can't see you."

It's a stupid request, mindless and desperate, and even as Kurt is conscious of that fact, he can't help himself.

"Please just stay here, I'm sorry, but I can't... Blaine, please."

It's the desperate heartache in Kurt's voice that gets him more than anything, and the way he clutches at Blaine's sleeve like Blaine might actually consider leaving him. For a moment, Blaine isn't sure how to respond, stunned by the raw vulnerability in Kurt's voice and wishing more than anything, anything, that it hadn't taken news so awful for Kurt to say those words to him.

But something that awful has happened, at least in some world, and he can't even begin to imagine how hopeless and broken Kurt must feel. As lost as Blaine's felt over the past month, he knows it's different. He's never felt such a strong, unconditional love from his father; he doesn't have the faintest idea how navigate any of this.

Chest aching, Blaine shift a little, turning so he can lift his arm and pull Kurt in close to him, hand settling warm on his arm as he bends down to press a kiss to Kurt's messy, soft hair. "Okay," he whispers, his own voice wavering a little with sympathy and nerves both, his other arm crossed over his own chest to cradle Kurt's face gently, thumbs stroking his tear-stained cheeks. "I'll stay right here, Kurt. As long as you want me, I promise."

It's all the permission Kurt needs, and all that he feels he has the strength to communicate as his hands pluck at the covers. Still dressed in his pajamas, he feels slightly cold, the heat of the apartment having been turned down some time ago in order to save on energy, to keep from spending as much now that he's had to budget everything against his own salary. Without worrying about his very movement driving Blaine away and back to his apartment, he starts to slip under the covers, unable to focus on the television, or even on his own thoughts. More than anything, he feels tired underneath that overarching brush of fear, feels unable to offer any more of himself than he already has. He can't even smile in gratitude in response to the brush of Blaine's thumbs against his cheek, or the soft words, the encouragement. Kurt feels them resonating deep in his chest, but it's not enough to pull him back out yet.

He's been wrung dry.

Closing his eyes at the brush of a kiss, Kurt takes a shuddering breath before laying one arm atop his pillow, watching the fabric buckle underneath the weight of his hand. He can't remember when he started crying, and he can't remember when he stopped; he only feels quickly drying trails on his cheeks that crack with every change of expression.

"I think I'm going to sleep," murmurs Kurt, and he reaches out to tug at the fabric wrapped tight around Blaine's shirt, not desperate but certainly beseeching. Wanting Blaine under the covers as well. Wanting something that he can't remember having asked for in almost a decade, the wrap of arms around him to anchor him in place.

Quietly, Blaine watches as Kurt rearranges himself, slipping beneath the covers before curling onto his side, facing Blaine. Kurt doesn't look at him, his gaze still distant and withdrawn, but he reaches out to grab hold of Blaine's shirt again and, somehow, that makes him feel better. Nervous too, but mostly better. Whatever they may be, however badly Blaine's messed everything up, Kurt still wants him here, is still willing to depend on him.

And Blaine refuses to disappoint him again.

He's still looking down at Kurt, watching him silently as the movie plays on, when Kurt tugs lightly at his shirt again. Frowning faintly, Blaine wonders if he's again reading too much into things, if he's assuming based on his own desires instead of Kurt's needs.

But then, Kurt has asked him to stay. Explicitly.

Still, not wanting to presume anything, Blaine sits up a little, hesitating. "Is it... Will it be okay if I get under the covers? I don't have to," he quickly adds. "I can grab the cushions off the couch and sleep on the floor. I really won't mind."

Kurt doesn't look up, partially afraid that doing so will have his resolve evaporating against his will. It stretches underneath his feet like thin ice, anchoring him to the spot but offering no confidence or surety. More than anything else within his power right now, Kurt wants to be able to make a solid decision, one of his own choosing, no wavering or stepping back. This feels like a safe one to make. Blaine would never do something solely to hurt him, Blaine would never do anything to jeopardize Burt's well-being, Blaine cares about the both of them.

"Blaine, just..."

Exhaling, Kurt shakes his head slightly against the pillow before trying his best to pluck at the covers, lifting them for Blaine with a raise of his gaze.

"Either be here for me or, or if you can't, let me know now," he says, shoulders curved, almost bowing under the weight.

Of everything he's seen and heard tonight, that one simple statement maybe hurts the most, just the idea that Blaine could ever not be here for Kurt in whatever capacity Kurt needs. It makes his chest ache, a physical pain that he knows is all his own doing. He put that doubt in Kurt's mind and it may never, ever go away. All he can do is prove otherwise as often as he's given the opportunity.

And this... opportunity doesn't feel accurate. The idea of even remotely capitalizing on Kurt's suffering is wholly unappealing. But he does want to be here for Kurt and the invitation to share a bed with Kurt, as friends and nothing more, is one he can't deny.

So he nods and breathes, "Okay," as he slips off the side of the bed, hesitating a moment before turning his back to slip out of his jeans. He's still wearing boxers underneath and he keeps his polo on, neither should be too uncomfortable to sleep in before he pulls back the covers and slides in next to Kurt, careful to keep a decent amount of space between them even as he reaches out to lightly curl his hand around Kurt's forearm, just to let him know he's there, holding on.

The movie's still playing, Disney voices providing a quiet white noise, though Blaine's attention is all on Kurt now, watching him quietly.

There isn't much hesitation in Kurt's expression before he shifts closer to Blaine on the mattress, laying on his side and reaching out with his free arm, letting it rest heavily on top of Blaine's chest. His grip holds, tugging Blaine just that much closer, wanting the warmth and comfort, wanting the support. It isn't about Blaine as a boyfriend, isn't even about Blaine in friendship; it extends wider than that, about trust and need, about the fact that in spite of everything, Kurt can't imagine letting Blaine go in full.

Especially not now.

Without letting himself search Blaine's reaction, Kurt simply hides his face from view under Blaine's jaw and closes his eyes in the shadow, breathing slow and evening out with the passage of time. Up until he starts sinking into unconsciousness.

It's the first time he's managed restful sleep in days.

Something tight and terrified and anxious unravels when Kurt slides closer, his head tucked under Blaine's chin and arm draped over him. The ache still remains, though. Quieter, but lodged hard in his chest, unmoving even as Kurt's breath slowly evens out into sleep.

Blaine doesn't move, not even to turn off the TV, letting the sounds carry and listening with half his attention clear to the end.

Only when he's absolutely sure Kurt has fallen asleep does he shift just enough to reach for the remote, flipping it off before the repetitive DVD menu threatens to drive him crazy, and plunging the room into darkness. Laying back down, he ducks his face into Kurt's hair, breathing him in as he lets himself press another, lingering kiss, lets himself indulge in simply having Kurt in his arms again, for the first time in two months.

It's a long time before he sleeps, but when he does, it's with Kurt still pressed close and that ache in his chest.

my dreams are nothing like they were meant to be, and i'm breaking down, i think i'm breaking down

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