likesboys | it was so easy living day by day

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it was so easy living day by day

He keeps his eyes open until the very last second, unable to come even close to approaching sleep with the knowledge of what's to come. Underneath the sheets, Kurt keeps his legs tangled with Blaine's, almost as though to keep him anchored there, a thumb brushing over the curve of his cheek every few moments, skin ever blanched with the fear that Blaine might be minutes away from disappearing. Maybe it'd be more comfortable to have Blaine wrap around him from behind, or hook his own chin over Blaine's shoulder, but Kurt refuses to budge from the spot, needing to stare at the color of Blaine's eyes, press an occasional kiss to the curve of his lips.

"I love you so much," he murmurs once, only when he dares believe that he can speak without a waver in his voice, breath brushing over Blaine's knuckles.

It turns out, things never quite go as expected. One second, he's running the inside of his foot up against Blaine's calf, enjoying the soft prickle of hair. The next, everything suddenly falls to a hush as he startles, tangled in his own blankets.

He's home.

"...Blaine?" Kurt whispers, sitting up and tugging the sheets off to the side, even if he can tell that there's no one else under them. Is this real? Is it an illusion? Coincidences happen, but Kurt can't honestly tell which would be the greater coincidence this time. Being tugged home?

Or to some fleeting, temporary version of it?

"Dad?" Kurt calls out instead, tossing the sheets aside and sliding his legs off the edge of the mattress. "Dad, are you there?"

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They've been lying in bed for hours now, occasionally talking and Blaine sometimes dozing in and out. Every time he opens his eyes, Kurt's still there watching him, quietly worrying. Blaine's lost track of time completely, but he knows it has to be getting close to midnight when Kurt curls in close, noses nearly brushing and his foot sliding gently up Blaine's calf and then suddenly jerks and flails.

In an instant, Blaine is wide awake, narrowly dodging Kurt's hand as he disentangles himself from the sheets.

"Kurt?" he asks, frowning as Kurt yanks the sheets off the bed, frantically looking all around. Looking through him, Blaine realizes. In a panic, Blaine glances down at his own body, hands patting at his chest and stomach as though expecting to feel nothing, to see nothing.

But, no. No, he's still here. He's still visible and corporeal. But Kurt is still freaking out.

Blaine lunges to his feet as Kurt scrambles off the bed, following him as Kurt starts yelling for his dad and, taking a chance, reaches out to grab Kurt's elbow, more than a little surprised to find that his hand doesn't go right on through the skin and bone. "Kurt! Kurt, your dad's not here, you know that. Kurt!"

It's too quiet. That's the only detail that seems out of place in surroundings otherwise so familiar. Kurt remembers every turn, knows exactly how many steps to take before pivoting himself down the hall. Normally, between Finn and Burt, someone's snoring in the room, and even whenever the both of them aren't there— Finn having gone off to Puck's for the evening and Burt meeting with Congress— Carole's usually up late to compensate, the water running in the kitchen sink as she scrubs at the dishes.

Kurt stalls in the middle of the hallway, unsure which direction to turn in.

"Dad?" he asks again, voice faltering as he shakes his head, raising his volume once more. "Carole? Finn? God, tell me someone's home." Breathing heavily to stave off tears, Kurt sets off in the direction of the kitchen, rushing down the stairs and accidentally knocking his hand now and then against the banister.

"I'll call... I can call Blaine, maybe he's home," he mutters to himself, needing something to break the quiet, even if it's the sound of his own voice.

His grip isn't the tightest, but even so Blaine is surprised when Kurt slips free without a hitch and runs out of the room, turning the corner into the open area and screaming for his dad and Carole and Finn like... like he's back home.

It's like watching a movie almost, like staring at a screen and not being able to interact with what's there. Panic rising fast in Blaine's chest, he moves quick, darting to step in front of Kurt, desperate to make him see, make him realize."

"Kurt! Kurt, I'm right here!" But again, Kurt looks right through, his eyes wide and just as panicked as Blaine feels as he turns away yet again, darting to the opposite side of the room before Blaine can get a hand on him. "Oh god, this isn't happening," he mutters, knowing beyond a shadow of a doubt that this is exactly what Kurt's been fearing for weeks. It may not be exactly as he expected, but it's close enough. And Blaine has no idea what to do.

Quickly tugging the phone off of its cradle, Kurt holds it with trembling hands, still managing to dial Blaine's number from memory. It's been a year, he thinks to himself. It's been over a year since he's called Blaine, but he recalls the number like he was back home just yesterday. And even that layers in to the rising panic that surrounds him like the increasing tides, pressing uncomfortably on his chest. Everything is startlingly real, and all those rumors about heading back to the home one's left, stepping into it without memories and continuing with life just as is, they're wrong.

Because Kurt remembers, and remembering now hurts.

"Pick up," he hisses into the receiver, free hand running through his hair and tugging. "Pick up, Blaine, please."

He's left with the answering machine, and that sends everything tumbling over the edge. With a deep breath, Kurt backs up slowly until he feels himself pressed against the kitchen counter, letting it bear his weight as he slides slowly to a seat on the ground.

This can't be happening, but of course, that's why it is.

If Kurt wasn't so clearly awake and lucid and visibly upset, Blaine could almost think he's sleep walking. The movements he's making are like some twisted kind of pantomime, like Kurt's on stage and acting this all out. But, though there's no doubt that Kurt's an incredible actor, Blaine's never seen a performance like this. Because it isn't one. This is real.

And it's absolutely terrifying.

Especially when, seconds later, Kurt just crumples.

Shoving his own fear aside, Blaine immediately scurries to kneel before him, his hands on Kurt's shoulders and arms and then on his knees, grappling. "Kurt. Kurt. Baby. Please, I'm right here. I'm right here. Just wake up, okay?" Despite his best efforts, he can feel his panic rising as Kurt gives no indication that he can feel a thing and, desperate, Blaine lifts a hand to Kurt's face, thumb smearing a streak of wetness as he leans in, still begging. "You're not alone, Kurt. Wherever you are, just come back. I'm here. I'm here."

Kurt wraps his arms around himself for a couple of minutes before he even tries to move beyond the stuttering of his shoulders, breath pulled in and out harshly, panic rising to his throat. He can feel his body rocking slightly forward and back a few times before the shake finally leaves him, nothing left but a soft tremor at his fingertips, and that's when he pulls himself to attention again, punching in a few more numbers into the phone.

Rachel Berry, not picking up. Nor Mercedes. Nor Tina, Puck— any of the New Directions. Finally, when even Mr. Schuester's number yields no result, Kurt leans back, his head resting against the wall before he draws himself to his feet again, phone abandoned on the ground as he steps towards the front door of the house.

He's completely alone, isn't he?

"So everyone's disappeared," he sighs under his breath, shivering as he stands in the doorway.

He isn't surprised when Kurt still doesn't respond, but he feels like his heart is splintering more and more with every passing second. It's like a nightmare, some twisted alternate dimension where Kurt can't see him, can't feel him, and Blaine can't reach him.

"No," he says when Kurt speaks into his darkness, his own voice shaky and shot as he stumbles to his feet to follow Kurt, stopping just behind him. At a loss for anything else to do, Blaine wraps his arms around Kurt's middle, tucks his head against Kurt's shoulder blade and holds tight. "No, I'm here. Even if you can't see me, I'm right here, Kurt. And I won't let anything happen to you. We'll get through this."

There's a slight resistance when Kurt tries to move, as though something's holding his body in place. He can't bring himself to be alarmed at it, can't seem to think of it as anything but his body stalling with the weight of all the changes. Within a couple of seconds, he relaxes into it, just lets his body hold him completely still, and stares out into the distance, arms crossed tightly over his chest.

It feels too real to be a dream. The whole world silent, save for the rush of wind and insects chirping in the distance.

"I'm going to go to sleep," Kurt declares, eyes suddenly wide. "I should just sleep. Maybe I really am going crazy. Island can do that, right? Just don't do anything for a day, Kurt."

Kurt struggles for a moment, pressing forward against Blaine's hold and, just like every other time, Blaine expects him to break free and carry on with whatever it is he's actually seeing.

But miraculously, he doesn't. Instead he relaxes back a little, into Blaine's arms. Almost like he's giving up though, to Blaine, it feels far hopeful than that would seem to imply. Even more so when Kurt straightens a little and speaks clearly, like he's announcing something. He isn't crazy enough to think it's for his benefit, but a part of him is hoping for it, a part of him can't help thinking that there's something in Kurt recognizing that Blaine's here, still with him.

"Yes," Blaine agrees, arms tightly wound around Kurt as he nods. "Yes, sleep is an excellent idea. I'll go with you."

With a sigh, he loosens his hold just a little, trying as much as he can to turn Kurt back towards the room they share in the cottage, completely unwilling to pull too far away for fear of Kurt somehow disappearing completely.

The silence is unnerving enough as it is, but there's something calming about hearing his own voice, hearing it travel at least a little bit, like he hasn't gone entirely crazy. Like his thoughts can still be drawn out at all. Kurt feels alarmingly alone where he stands in the front doorway, but gradually as the seconds pass and panic starts to subside, he feels a greater conviction. He just needs to remain calm.

Waiting through a day won't hurt anyone.

Pushing against the reluctance that still seems to want to hold him in place, Kurt heads in the direction of his bedroom, taking deep, shaking breaths with every step as he draws closer, rubbing at his eyes and wiping tears along his temple. "God," he breathes, but there's no one to admit his fear to.

Blaine never would've thought he could be so glad to hear that level of resignation in Kurt's voice before. It still cuts a little, still makes him ache under the weight of pure helplessness. But at least Kurt isn't running around in a panic anymore, at least he has enough sense to try and wait this out.

And god, Blaine hopes this really only lasts a day. He has no idea how to survive if it doesn't.

Quietly, they walk back to the room they share, Blaine giving only enough room so they don't trip over each other, but otherwise sticking as close as possible.

"I won't leave you," he promises, though he knows Kurt can't hear him or even sense that he's there. "We'll just... we'll go to bed. Sleep it off. I swear, I won't leave you for a second."

Quietly, Kurt sits down on top of his bed, feeling the slight give of the mattress underneath him and running his fingers over the spread. It's been so long since he's sat in this room that he has to take a moment, gaze traveling across, taking all of the details in. There's a part of him that yearns for this in spite of everything, that wants to be back in America and working towards a better future, a part of him that feels like the island will never quite feel ultimately fulfilling. But to be here without people — there's no question of what matters more.

He shivers again, biting back a sob, and quickly slips underneath his covers, pressing his cheek insistently against the pillowcase as it catches tears, hot and fast.

They just won't stop.

He waits for Kurt to lay down first, again only far enough away to give Kurt ample room before he lays down with him. They're over the covers and Blaine curls in close, his knees slotting just behind Kurt's in that way they so easily do as he drapes an arm over Kurt's waist, his nose against Kurt's shoulder.

His own eyes prickle with tears as Kurt sobs in his arms. Kurt's always been extremely emotional, capable of tearing up at nearly the drop of a hat. It's one of those things Blaine's always loved about him, and now is no different. Except now each hitch and gasp makes a part of Blaine's heart splinter further. There's nothing he can do to stop this, he knows. No words or touch or attempt at distraction. Kurt's hurting and alone and lost and there isn't a damn thing Blaine can do but hold on and wait and pray to a god he isn't sure he even believes in that Kurt will come back to him.

"I love you," he murmurs after a long few moments, the words quiet and muffled against Kurt's shoulder as he tightens his arms and hold on tight. "I love you so much, Kurt. We'll get through this, I promise."

And all he can do is hope that doesn't prove to be a lie.

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it was so easy living day by day

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