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It took exactly three days after Puck's disappearance before Kurt caved to the inevitable. Life was full of patterns, most of which hadn't served Kurt very well in his years, as though everything had started out arranged beautifully and in an ordered fashion, before life decided to take it down, tile by tile. And with Santana disappearing first, then Wichita, Pierette, Lisbeth, Craig... even Puck now, sometimes it just feels like there aren't too many more steps before the island will take everything away, every single thing it's seen fit to give Kurt. Because so little in life gets to be eternal, so little gets to be permanent, aside from loss.
He's needed to fall into the arms of sleep while wrapped in Blaine's own, because otherwise he finds himself waking suddenly, never sure if the nightmares that plague him are yet another of many gifts that the island's been giving as of late, or if they're just natural. Born out of the one fear that Kurt's never been able to meaningfully stamp away— that of having yet another person slip through his fingers.
When the sun streams into the hut that morning and Kurt blinks blearily, his heart immediately races in concern, worry flooding his nerves to the end until the third blink brings the world into focus, Blaine's dark lashes fanning over his cheeks. Carefully keeping his breath shallow so as not to wake Blaine, Kurt exhales quietly, trying to lull himself back to sleep. By the time Kurt manages, his legs are all tangled in the sheets of the bed, one draped over the bend of Blaine's knee as his arm rests over Blaine's waist.
Maybe that way, some part of him figures, Blaine can't disappear without waking Kurt first.
He's needed to fall into the arms of sleep while wrapped in Blaine's own, because otherwise he finds himself waking suddenly, never sure if the nightmares that plague him are yet another of many gifts that the island's been giving as of late, or if they're just natural. Born out of the one fear that Kurt's never been able to meaningfully stamp away— that of having yet another person slip through his fingers.
When the sun streams into the hut that morning and Kurt blinks blearily, his heart immediately races in concern, worry flooding his nerves to the end until the third blink brings the world into focus, Blaine's dark lashes fanning over his cheeks. Carefully keeping his breath shallow so as not to wake Blaine, Kurt exhales quietly, trying to lull himself back to sleep. By the time Kurt manages, his legs are all tangled in the sheets of the bed, one draped over the bend of Blaine's knee as his arm rests over Blaine's waist.
Maybe that way, some part of him figures, Blaine can't disappear without waking Kurt first.