So this was written in response to a challenge that my friend Lu posted on her blog's Monthly Favourites post, which you can find here klainefics. wordpress 2014/ 04/ 30/ monthly-favorites-apr-14/ (just remove the spaces :)) I'm working on The Big One that will be the next chapter so hopefully that will be finished soon! I don't know if people will be alerted to this chapter or not, but I've deleted chapter 5, which was the petition, because it was messing up my numbers. Hopefully this won't be missed though, so, whenever you're reading this, I hope you enjoy it :) x


The first thing Kurt did when he got to his hotel room was to prop his suitcase up at the end of his bed before kicking off his shoes, peeling off his jacket, and flopping backwards onto the bed. Yep, this bed was going to suit him just fine over the next five nights. Perks of a business trip, he thought to himself, I get to stay in amazing hotels with mattresses that feel like they're made of cloud.

The next thing Kurt did was also slowly becoming a ritualistic tradition with him and hotel rooms. Aside from the bed-flop test, he also had started taking the Bible out of the bedside table's drawer and placing it on top of the bedside table. He wasn't sure what had started it, but he knew that he felt uncomfortable with the Holy Book tucked away. He liked it where he could see it. Otherwise it felt like it was secretly watching him. At least now he could see it, and he felt a lot better for it.
But as Kurt lifted the bible out, a small slip of paper fell from within its pages. Curious, Kurt picked it up, the paper delicate and flimsy between his finger and thumb.
On the reverse, all that was written was a number. An annoying familiar number in a frustratingly familiar script. For five years, this handwriting had only been a memory, a reminder of his ex-boyfriend that at first had caused tears, then anger, and now nothing but a dull buzz of frustration at himself.

How, after all these years, and out of all the hotel rooms his company could have booked for him, had he ended up in the room that had Blaine's number tucked into its fricking Bible?! Was this a set up? Or was it just a really, really unfortunate coincidence?

There was only one way to find out. Maybe it was about time they spoke anyway. It had been five years, after all. Blaine had given up trying to apologise after a year of ignored calls and a final threat from Santana to leave Kurt alone or suffer the very dire consequences. Kurt had moved on now, and felt finally ready to hear what Blaine had had to say back then, even if it would no longer had any effect on their relationship.

Shifting on the bed to sit on the edge, his feet firmly planted on the floor, Kurt pulled out his mobile, typed in the number (annoyingly, from memory) and held the device to his ear. As he listened to the dial tone, he wasn't quite sure what he was feeling; nervous? angry? scared? excited? or nothing at all? Was this even worth the time it would take? They'd moved on now.

Hadn't they?

Before Kurt had anymore time to linger on it, the dial tone cut out and a voice spoke.

"Hello?"

"Hey, Blaine? It's me. It's Kurt."