Taking a break from my fluffy multi chapter in favor of a semi-angsty one shot. Based off of the song by The Fray, which I highly suggest you refresh yourself on because it will make a whole lot more sense when you read. It's not your average song fic; every one of the song lyrics are inserted into the dialogue and the tune is the background of the story.

After the goodbye Blaine's not surprised that he doesn't see much of Kurt, because that's what goodbye means.

So much for "I'll never say goodbye to you."

He's not surprised that they don't speak to each other or even see each other for another few months. Or years, Blaine can't really tell but he doesn't care because he knew it was too good to be true anyway. The world is cruel to those who pursue, let alone find happiness, he knows that now and he's willing to accept it. Willing to accept the blatant hold in is very core, willing to accept the dull ache of emptiness that never really leaves, even after the searing anger evaporates.

It's not a big revelation, or a sudden realization or a full-force epiphany that Blaine has to know that he'll wait for Kurt. It's like he's known it all along that he'll wait for as long as it takes for Kurt to come back, like he knows the sky is blue and the grass is green.

Blaine doesn't change because of it. He's still Blaine, singing and smiling because it's not like he's lost anything, not permanently at least. The ache in his heart becomes a part of him because he knows it's what keeps him hoping, believing, that it will be whole again.

He doesn't know when it will be whole again; life will make sure to hold off on him in that account. But it will happen. Blaine at least has that much belief in the world.

And so he's patient, living a half life until he can live a complete one again.

He's not surprised when Kurt leaves, and so he's not surprised when Kurt comes back.

Blaine is sitting on one of the two back to back benches in the lush campus quad, the shade of a tree shielding him from the setting sun. It's a habit of his now; the beginning of Junior year hasn't altered his weekly sunsets on this bench with a book. He eventually ends up staring without seeing at meaningless words on white pages, getting lost in memories of chestnut hair and nimble fingers and pure eyes.

Now is about that time, when images created by Moliere evolve into images created by Blaine's own broken half-a-heart. It's especially vivid tonight, considering that throughout his first week at school he's caught glimpses of that hair, or those arms, or that nose, always a fleeting glance before it's gone and Blaine always convinces himself he's imagining things. Strings of rippling notes flow from a piano in the music hall a few meters away, a simple but familiar and touching melody. The sound punctuates Blaine's streaming daydreams. He's trying to recall exactly the sound of that cherished laugh he'd heard a snippet of yesterday when he hears a rustling of clothing as the piano goes silent. Someone has taken a seat on the bench behind his, on the opposite side.

Blaine doesn't mind or even notice much until his ears pick up the smallest, most nondescript little exhale.

The warmth spreads through Blaine in a rush, as if he hadn't realized he had been cold for so long until now.

He turns his head away from his book and minutely to the side, his heart beginning to fill at just the sight, a long empty pitcher filling to the brim with pure, unadulterated feeling, the sight of light eyes feigning obliviousness of his presence. His other half, his best friend, sitting close enough to touch.

As the piano picks back up in full force, they look fully at each other simultaneously, reading each other's minds just as they always had. Hazel stares into Glasz. Pleasantries are not necessary.

Step One. "We need to talk," Blaine says, just barely.

Kurt's eyes betray a glimmer of emotion before he turns and stands.

He walks.

"Sit down. It's just a talk."

Kurt obeys. It doesn't touch his eyes, but he smiles politely back at him.

Blaine stares politely right on through.

Kurt stays left, Blaine stays right, as if afraid of crossing an invisible line of fear and blame dividing the benches in two. The sun is disappearing quickly, and the only source of light emanates from a window of the music building, to the right.

"I'm beginning to wonder why I came," Kurt says, voice wavering.

"Why did you, then?" Blaine asks, bitterness touching his voice despite the feeling of completion surging through him. This isn't over. Not yet.

"My plans never changed," Kurt says. They're not looking at each other. They don't have to. "Community college for two years, transfer to arts school."

"How fortuitous that the plans we had never changed, even after you wanted nothing to do with me," Blaine snaps softly, icily.

"Can you blame me?" Kurt asks.

"Maybe I didn't handle things the way I should have," Blaine offers. "But you never stuck around to hear the whole story.

"Because you were unwilling to tell it."

"I couldn't," Blaine's voice cracks. "Not then. Believe me, I know best."

"After all, you do know best," Kurt snarls sarcastically at the man who was so long ago a mentor to him. Blaine took a shuddering breath, combining frustration and fear. There was only one way to try to slip past his defense without granting innocence. Tell it all.

"They beat me," Blaine chokes out. "I told them about you and they beat me, and threw me out."


"And how could I come to you? Put you through that? The last thing you needed was my problems on your shoulders after everything that happened. I know I should have told you."


"But I loved you. And when I told you I couldn't be with you anymore and you left I know I needed you but my irrational anger that you didn't care to know why blinded me. And by the time I saw the light you were gone."

Kurt's face is now invisible behind long, pale hands.

"I told you I wasn't perfect," Blaine says desperately. "I'm no good at romance. I don't always make the right decisions. I panic easily, succumb to my emotions and Jesus, Kurt! Here I am laying down a list of what is wrong with me, things I've told you all along, as if reminding you of all the reasons you left me will make you come back- I'm stupid Kurt. I know that. But I need you to fix me."

Kurt's face is still buried in his hands.

Blaine prays to God he hears him.

A minute passes. Two. Three. The black night is silent. The dim light from the window illuminates Kurt, casting shadows across pallid, shaking skin.

Blaine breaches the invisible line, reaching out instinctively to touch him, to offer his best friend and way he could but Kurt flinches away.

"Don't," Kurt says venomously, poison dripping through the shaking hands that covered his mouth. He begins to raise his voice, drawing his fingers away. "Don't try to touch me as if that will make it better, as if it will make me forget how hard you broke my heart when you said you didn't want me."

Blaine's heart breaks as Kurt's voice does, and he lowers his voice. "I told you I was wrong. I never didn't want you, I always have and always will. But I'm not forcing you to stay here with me. I'll grant you one last choice."

He pauses. He's not sure how to word it. In his eyes there's only one option but since he's in the wrong he knows it's Kurt's choice.

"We can try again. Drive until we lose the road. Or break with the ones we've followed, finally going our separate ways, allowing ourselves to forget about each other and what was."

"That's just it," Kurt interrupts softly. "That's exactly something you would do, admit to everything and then give me a black and white ultimatum and make me choose. Back then I might have chosen. But I'm just not the same."

"I'm beginning to wonder why you came," Blaine says, voice wrecked.

Tears fall down Kurt's cheeks in a still assent.

"Where did I go wrong, Kurt?" Blaine's face crumples as he takes in his friend's broken expression. One he hoped he'd never see again. It's a face so familiar and yet so foreign; the boy he's known since high school aged by time and heartache. "I lost a friend somewhere along in the bitterness."

Kurt struggles with breath. "I would have stayed up with you all night," he admits, and Blaine knows it's the truth. "Had I known how to save a life."

"You can still save me," Blaine whispers.

Blaine's not surprised when Kurt leaves. He's not surprised when Kurt comes back. And he's not surprised when Kurt moves toward Blaine on his bench, when he lays the faintest hand on Blaine's cheek to lean in and share a single breath, the briefest touch, the longest and shortest moment in his life.

And then he's gone, walking alongside the warm autumn breeze into the black night.

Blaine doesn't know whether the kiss is a promise or a goodbye.

He doesn't care.

He's been saved.

I plan to illustrate this in the next couple of days. So I'll update this page with an edit or you can see it posted my Tumblr (See link on my profile). As always, let me know your thoughts!

For clarification, I wanted the plot to be a little sketchy, to focus more on the song and the feel. I think you can gather the main points though.