the ghost that carried us away

For the first month, Kurt eyed the island's present to Blaine and himself with a bit of trepidation. It's one of those gifts that Kurt feels has some kind of meaning behind it, however irrational it seems to attribute too much human thought and emotion to an island, and he simply isn't sure how he feels about being given the hint that he needs or would otherwise benefit from toys to spice up his sex life. Kurt's honestly of the opinion that he's doing fine in that department, better than he ever anticipated.

Well, maybe Blaine can be thanked for that.

But the day is long and Blaine's off attending classes that Kurt isn't a part of, so he can't help but start to wonder as he idly spends time in their room scratching out new patterns for his sewing classes. Approaching the box hesitantly, as though it might jump out at him any second, Kurt lifts the lid and peers down at the colorful display below.

And he wonders.

The butt plug looks the least threatening to Kurt. Its purpose is clear, its size decently small, far less threatening than Blaine's cock ever seemed. Flushing all the while, Kurt slowly strips himself bare of clothing, settling on the bed and giving himself careful brushes all over his body, skin against skin, warm and comforting. Soon enough, the lube's retrieved from the nightstand and two fingers twist inside of Kurt, his sighs falling against the pillow before he finally starts sliding the plug in, turning on the vibrations and immediately gasping at the sensation.

Oh.

He's suddenly very grateful that he and Blaine have a cottage all to themselves, because there's no way that the walls are thick enough to mask the loud moans that fall from his lips.

more than words

Anger isn't the right word for what Kurt feels towards Blaine, but sometimes he thinks that it's the best way to describe how he's acted. He hasn't taken a single call, hasn't answered most of Blaine's texts, and he's been careful to try and find new paths to any classes that they share. He's carefully avoided having to step by Blaine's hall, carefully avoided their usual hangouts and restaurants, keeping himself away from places he knows can only upset him at this point in time.

Anger would make it easier to live in a similar space as Blaine, but what Kurt feels is nothing short of an ache that worms into his chest and squeezes every day, every second, enough that Kurt feels like he can hardly breathe.

The approach of Valentine's Day only makes it worse.

He's both surprised and not to find a present left at his doorstep when he readies himself to head to the grocery store. Picking up the CD and the flowers, Kurt carefully glances both ways down the hall before stepping back inside, filling the vase on the kitchen table before he can stop himself. Because... well, you can't return flowers.

You just can't.

But he does plan on returning the CD, fingers carefully tracing over the cover art and hesitating, his heart lurching when it becomes clear that this isn't any professional job. There's something on this CD that you can't find in stores, something that Blaine's likely put together on his own.

So Kurt slips into their — his bedroom, sliding the disc into his player and hesitantly starting it.

Ten minutes later, he's crying, tears falling heavy and hot into his pillow.

An hour later, he's punching in Blaine's number on his phone.

Taking him off speed dial didn't help Kurt forget the number.