Disclaimer: See first chapter.

Author's Note: Hey guys! So, I decided to (finally) get around to finishing this. First I under thought it, then I over thought it, and now it might be kind of acceptable. I hope so, at least. I'm still trying to explore these characters and capture their personalities, and I'm not sure how successful I've been. For this reason, reviews are to me as applause is to Rachel Berry.

Anyway, enjoy!

xCMELx


The relative warmth of the apartment building compared to the chill of the autumn evening outside wraps Blaine in a blanket of strangely satisfying goosebumps, followed by the unavoidable and uncomfortable pins-and-needles sensation. (Those, however, may have a little more to do with his raging emotions and a little less to do with the abrupt temperature change.) Shifting his purchases in his arms, Blaine marches through the halls with a grim determination completely unfitting of one paying a visit to one's boyfriend. Shaking his head at himself, Blaine's eyes barely take in the irrelevant numbers marking doors as he passes with quick, light-footed purpose.

Four more doors. Two deep breaths. A real, true, I'm-going-to-see-him-in-seconds smile. Blaine lifts a hand and raps on the door.


Kurt Hummel has always been a busy person. The need to fill time with passions and projects and anything that could contribute to his inevitably fabulous future has always been present, and it never had bothered Kurt; he doesn't like to waste time.

But lately, Kurt Hummel has been perpetually busy. Can't-eat, can't-sleep, can't-call-my-boyfriend-for-a-decent-conversation busy. And he hates it. His internship is important, his work is important, and New York City, being his dream, is important. But at some point, Kurt has to realize that Blaine Anderson is more important than all those things put together, because Blaine Anderson has a whole of something that those other things only have vague, shadowy pieces of: Kurt's heart.

Kurt doesn't know how to fix it. He doesn't know how much damage has even been done. He does, however, know that he can't push it away any longer without it getting completely out of control. Fear shows him clearly how things can go: Quiet resentment, an ever-growing chasm of emotional and physical distance, and eventually, that horrible, horrible bitter breakup that had always been an insecurity festering in the back of his mind.

One phone call. Just pick up the phone, Kurt.

Actions speak louder than words - maybe, if he simply listens from now on rather than launching into a nervous, excited ramble about the city and Vogue, Blaine will know he understands what he's been doing wrong now. Sinking onto his couch, Kurt ponders this, rubbing his iPhone against the knee of his gray skinny jeans. He knows that he and Blaine are halfway to the deepest sort of knowing each other - the kind of relationship where they don't need to use words to communicate, where they are completely comfortable, completely honest, yet never bored. The kind of relationship that doesn't need the drama he had been surrounded by in high school. He wants that desperately, and he knows that Blaine does too. Communication has always seemed to be at the root of their problems. Misunderstandings and insecurities had led to almost every single one of their fights. (Save those two induced by alcohol, but even those began with a distinct lack of crucial communication.)

With this knowledge in mind, Kurt comes to the conclusion that addressing the problem outright is the right way to go. Not the simplest, not the easiest, not the least painful, but definitely the right way. With a small, sad smile, Kurt accepts his part in creating the small tear that had formed in his relationship with Blaine and realizes belatedly that perhaps, in a simpler way, without entirely understanding his own emotions, this is exactly what Blaine had tried to avoid all those few times he had tentatively brought up the subject of their soon-to-be long distance relationship the previous year.

Now, with a churning guilt in his stomach for more or less brushing Blaine's worries off (especially - Kurt swallows hard - after the Chandler incident), Kurt takes a leap and makes the call.

He's determined to start over, and to do it right this time around.


Perhaps ten steps from Kurt's door, Blaine's phone rings. Fumbling for it, he nearly spills the coffee, barely avoids dropping the roses, and somehow manages to stub his toe in the empty hallway. Cursing softly, Blaine checks the caller ID and gapes a little when he sees the familiar image of Kurt pressing a kiss to Blaine's cheek with a visible smile molding pretty pink lips against skin. Swallowing his slight panic, Blaine answers the phone.

"Hi honey!" Kurt greets happily, and Blaine feels his cheeks heat and his chest fill with a warm, heavy, pleasant something that had been absent for far too long.

"Kurt! I - Wow. Great timing babe," Blaine chuckles, praying that the walls aren't as thin as they look and that Kurt can only hear his voice over the phone and not echoing in the hallway outside his door.

"Oh? What happened?"

Glancing around, Blaine's smile turns mischievous.

"Are you at home?" he asks quickly, and Kurt hums an affirmative. Blaine only hesitates a moment. "Open your door, Kurt," Blaine orders happily, and Kurt's intake of breath is audible.

"Blaine -?"

And then the door is swinging open just a few paces from Blaine, but that space is the most offensive thing in the world right now, with Kurt's smile positively glowing at him. Taking the last few steps in quick strides, Blaine has Kurt pressed to his body in a hug made perfectly awkward by his full hands. Between gleeful giggles and small kisses peppered over Blaine's face, Kurt attempts to question him eloquently.

"I - you - what - Blaine!" he squeals (squeals!) before giving up and tugging Blaine into the apartment, kicking the door shut behind them.

"Hi," Blaine laughs, nuzzling his cheek and stepping back to just look for a moment.

"Oh," he says after a pause during which Kurt simply gazes at him with a sweet mixture of incredulous confusion and adoration. "These - these are for you," Blaine says with a gentle smile, holding out the bouquet of eleven red and yellow roses.

Kurt accepts them with a shyness developed from months without seeing each other, and the knowledge that Blaine knows that a long talk will follow this reunion. Inhaling deeply, Kurt admires the roses before laying them on the coffee table next to the two paper cups of the brew itself that Blaine had placed there after presenting Kurt with the roses.

A pause. A harsh exhale and a whisper of "Kurt..." and then Kurt is wrapped properly in Blaine's arms, and any doubts have dissipated. The slide of lips on lips banishes all else as Blaine dedicates himself to getting acquainted with the warm, wet mouth that has claimed his hungrily.

"Love you," he mumbles as Kurt clutches at his back. Talking can't wait much longer, but they'll enjoy it while it can.


Blaine Anderson has a new favorite place in the world. With a view of New York City's lights against the black velvet of a starless sky framed in the window, two cups of lukewarm coffee, their aromas mingling, abandoned on the coffee table, and entwined with Kurt so completely that it's hard to tell where one begins and the other ends, Blaine is sure that this moment is all that he needs for forever. Shifting between Kurt's legs and sighing at the scratch of Kurt's fingers against Blaine's skull, his curls long-since freed from their prison of gel, Blaine pries one of Kurt's hands from his hair to tangle their fingers together.

Talking starts out slow.

"There's a reason I called you earlier."

"There's a reason I came."

"I know."

A pause.

"...I'm sorry, Blaine."

Blaine doesn't ask what he is apologizing for. They both know. Perhaps it is one small step closer to the complete connection Kurt know they can achieve.

"We need to work something better out. For one, our relationship is clearly suffering. I feel like I haven't truly talked to you in months, Kurt. I..."

On one hand, Blaine wants to admit it so, so badly. On the other...how can he phrase something like that honestly without sounding needy, whiny, or just plain melodramatic?

"I felt a bit abandoned, Kurt, and I know you're doing your best, but something needs to change. I'm worried about you," Blaine confesses softly. "You're working so hard, doing so well, but you need to take a moment to breath once in a while."

"I know," Kurt replies quietly, dropping a kiss to Blaine's shoulder and tightening his arms around the other boy at hearing the words out of his mouth.

Abandoned. How did it get to that? How did we let it?

"It's always been communication, hasn't it?" Blaine says. They are both whispering, the warmth and peace that floods the apartment stealing their voices and reducing them to nothing more than breaths passing lips, mingling in the ever-shrinking space between them.

"It has," Kurt confirms both his earlier thoughts and Blaine's words. "It's why I called," he adds unnecessarily. Blaine already knows that. (Another step closer, Kurt thinks.)

Feeling Blaine tense, he looks down and notes the crease of the boy's forehead, the struggle to allow the admission to pass his lips -

"I was so close to doing something stupid, Kurt," Blaine rushes out in a breathy murmur. "So close - Kurt, I - I almost -"

There is no warning for either of them when Blaine starts crying. He doesn't feel it build up and has no chance to push it down. Kurt is torn between the suffocating need to know exactly what Blaine is talking about and the shock of his tears. He can count on one hand the number of times he has seen Blaine full-on cry.

Sniffling, Blaine tries to pull himself up, but Kurt won't let him. No matter what the confession is, Kurt clings to the fact that it was still an almost.

"You won't want me once you know," Blaine whispers brokenly.

"Blaine Warbler, I will always want you," Kurt replies, sealing it with a dry, closed-mouth kiss to Blaine's temple that, at the moment, means more than all the passion they have shared.

"I almost...I actually thought of cheating on you," Blaine hisses, the words like a Band-Aid ripped off a cut.

Kurt should be shocked, crushed, righteously angry. Kurt should push Blaine away, should feel something other than intense regret for the fact that he himself had a part in creating this mess.

"How did we get here?" he sighs, and Blaine slumps against his chest once more, relief at Kurt's acceptance of the situation clear. Nothing is perfect, and healing will take time, but the first step in the right direction is this conversation.

Blaine thinks that maybe the last time they talked like this was back when they were still just friends, back when they were peeling back the cautious layers each had built around themselves and clutching at every piece of new information found, determined to know each other as closely as if they had been friends forever. It is refreshing, and it is revealing. There is so much that they can still learn in their relationship, so much left to be explored, and Blaine is determined to never ignore that again.

It takes time. The clock in the kitchen, just visible from the couch, winds steadily into the early hours of the morning. Rachel is not expected home for the night - something about a friend and a party and Kurt thinks that the convenience of the timing is almost too good to be true. Anything other than the boy in his arms doesn't matter too much at the time, though, because he has never felt closer to him, never felt more connected, and the fact that this whole things could have ended in a messy, tragic collision of blame and guilt and uncertainty is too painful to consider.

Kurt allows himself a small smile. It doesn't really matter now, how they got here, or what could have happened, because they are here now, and they need to move forward. After tracing their steps backwards through the years in that one night, forward looks like the brightest light in New York City.


Author's Note: Honestly, I'm still a little uncertain about this. Anything you have to say about it will be welcomed. Thanks for reading!