Monday slips by in slow motion. He's half an hour early to work but ends up staring into his coffee at the corner Starbucks and having to run to catch the elevator up to the offices. It's his second week and turning up breathless and feeling tired isn't what he had planned. But he paints a smile across his lips and pushes through. Errands and note-taking in meetings and trying to decipher the mouthed and acted-out orders of the people he's working for.
On Tuesday he's worse. He doesn't get to sleep until the early hours of the morning and even then it's restless and he wakes, tangled in the sheets and sweating from a forgotten dream, only when the girl in the apartment besides his starts blaring the music at 8.30. He's late for work and his boss snipes at him and tells him that was his one chance and that if he's late again he'll be out on his arse.
He's more scared by his lack of reaction than by the fact he could fuck this up so quickly. He just nods, apologizes and continues on.
Wednesday Rachel takes him out after work. She's handling her oddly coinciding break-up much better than he and is already gushing about some other guy and smiling and dancing with friends. Kurt sits in the corner and clenches his jaw and tries not to scream when Katy Perry starts blaring. He catches the subway home and mixes up the numbers and ends up god knows where and can't even find a reason to care.
Surely it gets easier, he tells himself. Surely this was the right choice, the best choice, for both of them. Because being apart was going to hurt so much, too much, and he was so damn terrified of what would come next, of how they would handle everything. Breaking up seemed like a moment's pain for a year of respite.
That night he falls asleep and dreams about the inevitable reunion. The chance meeting on a New York side street with Blaine tanner and smile lines setting in around his eyes and a bright bow tie. And Kurt will be older and wiser and settled. They'll pick up where they left off.
When he wakes up on Thursday morning he realizes that's what he expects to happen. A life of watching too many rom-coms and having a run of bad luck means he expects that. At lunch he gets hip-checked while he's crossing the street and when he looks up it's a gay couple, clearly New York natives and the spitting image of Jeff and Nick. He's reaching for his phone before he realizes he can't call Blaine and say anything.
He forgets finding food and races back to work. Locks himself in the disabled bathroom and sobs until he can hardly breathe. No amount of water on his cheeks or deep breaths repairs the damage and his boss tilts her head and wonders at him. He gets through the day though.
Friday he squares his shoulders and accepts the pain. He has lunch with Rachel in the park and she brings along this new love interest and is all over him and it makes Kurt sick to his stomach. Not only for Finn's sake but also his own: he hasn't looked at another man all week, he hasn't looked at himself.
He squeezes Rachel's hand tightly in his own when they get a moment alone. "How are you feeling?"
She smiles brightly, unbelievably. "I'm good. It was the right thing do. For all of us."
Saturday morning Kurt rings his dad and spills the whole story. He doesn't cry but when he says, "This hurts so much more than being apart ever could," he can feel his heart trying to sow itself back together.
His dad just wants to know if he's eaten or slept. And he hasn't.
By Sunday he's exhausted and his stomach hurts and he's chewed his lip to bleeding. His dad picked him up without a word from the bus stop in the city and told him he didn't have to worry about paying him back the money for the ticket. Kurt says he will though. Burt drives and watches Kurt nibble at the sides of a sandwich. When they pull into the drive of the house it's only for Burt to give Kurt the keys and take hold of both his shoulders and make sure he hears him. "Drive safe and ring me as soon as you can."
Kurt drives to Blaine's house in silence. No music, just his own unsteady breathing and he judges himself for how wracked with pain he remains.
It's just a silly high school relationship. It's just a break up. Everyone has them. Everyone survives and moves on and finds someone else. No one sobs and aches and forgets to eat.
When he pulls into the empty drive of Blaine's house he's mentally repeating the mantra: "But we're different. We're everything to each other."
No one answers the door to the Anderson house. Mrs Anderson will be at the club. Mr Anderson could be anywhere on business. Blaine should be here. He thinks about calling but his throat knots up immediately. He texts his dad to say he's waiting in his car.
Instead he waits on the front steps and tries to ignore the crispness of the air and the sounds of cars turning into the street. It's three hours later, just after lunch time when Blaine's car rolls into the drive. Kurt startles and looks up in time to see Blaine see him, his eyes wide and his mouth set in a line. He turns his car off but doesn't move to get out.
Standing, Kurt waits.
When Blaine finally does move it's slowly, unblinking, to come and stand in front of Kurt. There's not really anything he can say that won't betray what he's feeling, that won't feel like a joke or a slap or make him want to scream or cry or blame. So he stands there and waits.
Kurt takes a breath and it feels like relief already, just to know that this perfect boy still exists, is still here.
"I was wrong," Kurt says and realizes as he speaks he hasn't planned this at all. "I was so, so wrong and stupid and terrified. I missed you as soon as I got to New York and you don't have to—"
He's cut off by Blaine's mouth before he can even build up any real speed. Blaine just falls forward, both arms around Kurt's back crushing him in close and pressing their mouths together in a mismatch of angle and pressure until it isn't and Blaine's kissing him with loud, wet presses again and again.
Kurt tries to speak again but Blaine won't stop kissing him and just mumbles, "Don't care," and squeezes him tighter.
He stills after a time and Kurt wishes he didn't, wishes he could do this forever and forgo work and eating and sleeping and just live forever wrapped up in Blaine's arms. But Blaine stills, leaning against him, forehead to forehead.
Blaine's voice is soft and broken. "You're here for this aren't you?"
"For you," and Kurt ducks his head for another kiss. "I'm so sorry."
Another deep, shaking breath and Kurt can feel the fatigue in Blaine's body, the sob working it's way silently through him. "You can't ever do that to me again," Blaine says, fingers flexing into Kurt's hips. "I wouldn't—"
"Never," Kurt says. "I could never. I was so wrong and—"
"Shut up." And Blaine kisses him once more.
Eventually they manage to get into Blaine's house. The lights are all off and the curtains closed and Blaine beelines for the kitchen, gulping down a bottle of water without pause and then throwing another to Kurt who does the same.
"That was the worst week of my life," Blaine eventually says, eyes just slightly guarded now, lips kissed red and the water leaving them wet and shining.
"Me too. And you can be mad at me for as long as you want. Just don't hate me, don't leave me."
"No, never. We…we need to just pretend it didn't happen for a while." Blaine's back at the fridge, rummaging and pulling things out and then turning. "I'm starving," he explains. "And exhausted." A smile tugs at his lips and Kurt has never been happier to see it.
Somehow without saying another word they manage to make it to the couch and curl up together. They eat and snuggle, pressing as close as they dare until they're both yawning and their fingers are just brushing against the others' skin. They sleep and don't wake up until midnight, Blaine's mother clicking her tongue at them and poking at Blaine's shoulder until they're both blinking sleep from their eyes.
When she's says, "I thought you were in New York," it's obvious that she's drunk and Blaine's easing her into a chair and telling her to sleep and then pulling Kurt up the stairs by the hand.
They eat again and talk quietly about New York and Christmas and skype dates. Kurt needs to be on the morning bus because trying to skip more than one day of work, even with a convincing illness isn't possible. But they have a few more hours. Eventually, inevitably, they end up naked and wrapped around each other, working their hips and hands and mouths to come fast and desperate across each other's skin.
The second time is slower and closer and nerve-wracking. Blaine straddles Kurt's lap and slowly works himself down onto Kurt's cock, gasps loud and rough into his mouth and then slides his hand back behind Kurt to grab at his ass and urge him up, closer, more. He slides a finger inside Kurt as his tongue licks up behind his teeth and Kurt's cheeks wet with tears.
They both mumble apologies and "Don't leave me" and "Forever" until they're collapsing and stripped of everything they had left. They sleep another half hour and then Kurt has to move, has to get up and leave and they end up laughing and blushing when Blaine accidentally farts on his way out of the bed.
"I'll Skype you when I get to New York."
"I'll see you then."
"I'll see you forever."
"I'll see you at Christmas."
Kurt kisses him one more time and lingers and breathes and feels okay. He mouths sorry against Blaine's cheek as they hug and then he gets in the car without looking back.