Blaine tapped his red pen on the table.
He contemplated the spelling test before him.
C-a-l-l. He should call Kurt. Tick
B-e-c-a-u-s-e. Because this was getting stupid. He had to stop thinking about him. Tick.
K-i-t-t-e-n. Kurt moved like a cat. He remembered. Tick
H-e-l-l. His life was hell without- wait. Blaine marked an X on the page and wrote in hill above it.
Blaine set down the pen and looked over at his phone. He ran his hands through his hair. It wasn't too late to call. Kurt was probably still at work. He would just leave a message.
His eyes traced the number on the pad.
It had been a whole day. That was a long enough period to wait to call the man who had cornered you in a class room and kissed you, right?
Blaine's hand reached out, hovering over the cordless phones on the table. His fingers brushed over the keypad pressing the numbers he had spent the last hour obsessing over, and the last seven years trying to forget.
The numbers glowed green in the dimly lit room. The silver of the phone illuminated with the sickly color.
The curser waited patiently as his finger came to land on the last digit in the number. The coursers flashing seemed to slow as Blaine sunk into his own mind, letting go of the flashing green light and the home he had built for himself. Instead he was walking home in the darkening evening, running up the stairs of the apartment they had shared during the last of his college years, the last of their days.
Kurt was sitting at the small table in the living room. He had pressed a kiss to Kurt's unresponsive head. He glanced over Kurt's shoulder to see the large envelopes that sat arrayed on the table. He remembered the exact sinking feeling that he had gotten when he knew that Kurt had seen them.
Blaine let his eyes open and let the phone drop.
The shattering of their relationship and the cold words that followed were made even more hurtful now that Blaine could see that Kurt was just trying to do his best for him, for them.
The only thing that Blaine could have said he learned from that failure was that indecision was a valid choice as well, and was, now like then, perhaps the more hurtful of his options.
Lots of skin, the smell of his hair, and the urgent pressure of lip against lip, he weighed that against all the pain and uncertainty. And the hope, sometimes Blaine forgot to hope.
Blaine picked up the phone. One finger tapped in Kurt's number.
Ring. He smoothed the cord with one finger.
Ring. He picked up his pen and started fidgeting with it again. Tap. Tap.
"Hi. It's me. I-" Blaine bit his lip. "Hi."
There was a pause on the other end the silence buzzed between them.