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Deep down inside, Blaine knew it was over. He knew that when Kurt walked out of the door, slamming it behind him, that they wouldn’t make it till tomorrow. It broke his heart, knowing that this was it, and that there was no coming back from it.
It’s inevitable that everything good comes to an end, he thought to himself. He stood up and brushed the hair out of his face. The walk to his bedroom—their bedroom—was more treacherous than he’d anticipated. There were things turned over, shattered knick-knacks. In his room he found an unmade bed and clothes strewn all over the place.
He made a quick U-turn back to the living room. Nope.
He sat down on the couch and opened his phone up, scrolling through instagram. Waiting.
Eventually, he fell asleep on the couch, phone in hand.
When he woke, it was to the sound of the door closing. Kurt locked it behind him, and walked straight past Blaine, past the war zone of a hallway, into the devastated remains of their bedroom. Blaine just looked in that direction for a long time, not saying anything. Barely even breathing.
But then Kurt emerged from the room, suitcase in hand. Blaine couldn’t help but notice that he’d changed. That his turquoise pants were hugging him in all the right places—that his black shirt was just sheer enough that Blaine could see through it. Kurt’s hair was done as well, improved from the previous all-over-the-place hair he’d had before.
“The way you look I know you didn’t come back to apologize,” Blaine said, not looking Kurt in the eye. He shifted his gaze down to Kurt’s boots, black and shining as ever.
“Blaine…please don’t,” Kurt said. Blaine looked up.
“Please don’t what? I don’t think you quite get it, Kurt.” Blaine could feel the anger boiling back up, toxic and poisonous as ever, yet delectably overpowering. “You have a suitcase. You’re leaving. You’re leaving me . Here. Alone.”
“Blaine—don’t make this harder than it has to be, I don’t want to hurt you,” Kurt was pleading now.
“I know you’re going to him. Admit it.”
“Blaine I—”
“ ADMIT IT. Admit that you’ve been seeing this guy behind my back. I’ve known for months , Kurt. I never said anything, but I’ve known for a long time. I know you go and see him when you say you’re going over to Mercedes’s or Quinn’s, I know when he’s been here, in my apartment. In my bed. I know what he smells like, because you come home smelling like him. I know that his name is Adam. I kept thinking to myself, it’ll stop one day, he’ll get bored of him one day…he’ll stay with me…he’ll tell me about him eventually. One day. But you never did. So we fought. And we fought. And we fight. And we’ve been fighting for a very long time. Admit it, Kurt. Fucking admit it.” Blaine was pretty sure he was crying, pretty sure Kurt was, too.
“Blaine…I’m so sorry…” Kurt’s face was red, and he was running his hands through the hair he’d just styled perfectly. “I—I—”
“Come here, Kurt,” Blaine whispered. He wasn’t thinking anymore, purely instinctive. He was going to regret this when morning came, but it didn’t matter. Nothing mattered anymore.
When Kurt finally trudged his way over to his betrayed lover, Blaine pulled him down so quickly he yelped. Blaine was quick with his fingers and his lips, moving before Kurt had any time to respond. Blaine’s hands began working the buttons on Kurt’s shirt, practically ripping them off in the process.
If this was Kurt’s last night with him, Blaine was going to make it count for something.
Count for anything.
-
Kurt was a gasping mess beneath Blaine, practically useless to do anything but take whatever Blaine was going to do.
Kurt knew Blaine would stop if he safe-worded. ‘Stop’ was used so frequently that it wasn’t effective. But if Kurt uttered the word ‘Shakespeare,’ it was over. But Kurt didn’t want it to stop. Blaine could do whatever he wanted to him, and he’d love all of it.
But he’d leave in the morning.
Blaine had his shirt open, and it was hanging off of Kurt’s shoulders now. His mouth was on Kurt’s neck, biting instead of kissing. Blaine was angry, Kurt knew that. Blaine never cursed, Blaine never lost his temper, Blaine never threw things. But he’d screamed profanities at Kurt, yelled until he was red in the face, and he’d thrown anything he’d gotten his hands on into the wall. Kurt had gotten angry, too. He’d said terrible things, things he could never take back, but Blaine had turned into something wild and animalistic. And Kurt understood why. He’d have been the same way.
He had been lying to Blaine for months. And now he was leaving Blaine. He was leaving Blaine for another man. He knew Blaine knew about his affair, deep down inside. Something told him that Blaine had known for a long time, because there were times where he would come back, and his phone would be in a different place than it had been before, with apps open that hadn’t been open before. And Blaine would be oddly quiet. He knew because when he was out late, Blaine was in bed pretending to be asleep, crying silently. He knew because Mercedes and Quinn told him that Blaine knew, because every time he said he was going over to their house, Blaine would call them. He knew because Blaine’s moods would change so suddenly, that on those nights he came home smelling like someone else, Blaine wouldn’t talk to him, and then in the middle of the night, Blaine would roll over and he’d start kissing him, and he would cry while they did it, and he would mutter the word ‘mine’ over and over again.
Blaine had known for a long time. He’d been waiting it out, or at least trying to. Kurt knew that if he told Blaine about Adam that Blaine would have forgiven him. But Kurt understood that that would have been wrong. He would have been using Blaine. That was wrong. He would have been taking advantage of his kindness. So he was leaving, in the morning.
But as for right then, he wasn’t going anywhere.
-
Blaine pulled his shirt over his head, exposing tanned olive skin and lean muscle. Kurt grabbed at it, nails digging into his skin, sure to leave marks, maybe even draw blood. He hissed at the sharp feeling of it, and Kurt’s touch immediately softened, but the bite he’d given in response to that caused Kurt’s fingers to resume their attack on Blaine’s back.
“I gave you everything—I give you everything. All you had to do was tell the truth , Kurt. All you had to do was tell—the—truth,” Blaine seethed into Kurt’s ear. He was grinding down into Kurt’s hip, breathing just as heavily as Kurt was. “We held the world in our hands…we had everything. We were everything , Kurt. Because you were with me. And I was with you. We were together and we were everything and you’ve ruined it. For what? For what , Kurt?” He was sobbing into Kurt’s shoulder, the words almost unintelligible. “For him? For Adam ?”
Blaine took a deep breath and went to work on Kurt’s belt buckle. His fingers were sure and steady, despite his unstable mindset. Once he had Kurt’s pants open, he made it his point to pull them and Kurt’s boxer briefs down. Kurt finally made himself useful by assisting, also shedding the shirt from his shoulders. Kurt kicked the pants and undergarments off and onto the floor.
Blaine sat up for a moment, looking down at his lover. Kurt was hard, his erection standing tall. Blaine took it in his hand, pumping slowly, reveling in the power he held over Kurt.
“Look at you,” he whispered. “What wouldn’t you do right now?”
“I’d—I’d do anything,” Kurt said. Blaine shook his head, moving his hand even slower against Kurt’s cock.
“Anything?”
“Anything.”
Blaine looked down at Kurt, considering his options. Then the answer was clear to him.
“Kneel for me, Kurt,” Blaine said. Kurt scrambled to the floor, planting his knees on the floor. Blaine stood above him, examining. Kurt’s knees were pushed together, his hands resting on them. Blaine pulled Kurt’s arms behind him, folding them on top of one another at the base of his spine. He then squeezed his hand between Kurt’s knees, pulling them apart as far as they would go. He wanted Kurt to feel this for days.
“Lift your head up,” he said. Kurt lifted his chin immediately. When Blaine was satisfied with Kurt’s position, he loosened the string on his sweat pants, shifting them down to pull his length out of them. He rubbed himself a few times before pressing against the edge of Kurt’s mouth. Kurt’s eyes were locked on Blaine’s, waiting for a command. Blaine remained silent, though, letting the head of his cock run across the seam of Kurt’s lips.
Finally, Blaine stopped at the center of Kurt’s lips, pushing forward slightly. “Open,” he said. Kurt opened his mouth almost immediately, allowing Blaine to push in. Blaine threaded his fingers into Kurt’s hair, holding his head still as he fucked into his mouth. Kurt was still looking at Blaine, his eyes never leaving his face. Blaine looked down at Kurt, too, but he wasn’t looking at Kurt’s eyes. His eyes were locked onto his mouth, open for him. There was a line of spit and pre-come leaking from his lips, leaving a little puddle of it on their floor. Blaine was fascinated with the way Kurt just took it. Even when Blaine pushed to the back of his throat, Kurt took it. He could come from the sight alone, but he held back.
He needed this to last.
-
Kurt was disappointed, to say the least, when Blaine pulled out of his mouth. His jaw ached from being open for so long, his muscles in his legs ached from the position that Blaine had put him in. But he was sad when Blaine pulled out—he loved blowing Blaine, especially when Blaine took control like this. They were like this only on special occasions, when one of them is in such a mood. But Kurt loved it more than he should have. Kurt loved being able to give himself to Blaine completely. He trusted Blaine, even if Blaine didn’t trust him anymore. So he gave himself to Blaine, and he would take whatever Blaine threw his way.
Blaine had shed his underwear and sweats soon after pulling out of Kurt’s mouth. He ran his thumb across Kurt’s mouth, pushing it between his lips at one point. Blaine then crouched down in front of Kurt, looking into his eyes with a look Kurt couldn’t place. Blaine’s pupils were blown, the wild look still present as ever in them. Kurt was ready for anything Blaine would make him do. That doesn’t mean he was expecting his next sentence.
“Clean up your mess,” he said. Kurt didn’t bother to hide his confusion. He looked at Blaine questioningly, earning a smirk from the honey eyed man. “Your mess, look down,” he pointed at the puddle of spittle and pre-come on their hardwood floor. “Clean it up. With your tongue. Keep your hands behind your back.”
Kurt looked at Blaine with a hard expression, but when Blaine didn’t budge, he shifted until his face was on the floor. This caused him to have to lift his ass into the air, on display for all the world to see, wide open. He stuck his tongue out, lapping up the remnants of Blaine fucking his face. He felt humiliated, to say the least, but he supposed that was what Blaine had wanted. His line of vision was fucked, so he didn’t see Blaine walk behind him. Needless to say, he was surprised when he felt the iciness of lube hit his ass, and wasn’t necessarily ready for the two fingers Blaine put in him not long after. He paused his ‘cleaning.’
“Don’t stop. You won’t like what happens if you stop,” Blaine said, pushing his fingers deep into Kurt. “I’m going to need you to relax. You’re too tense,” his words weren’t caring, as a matter of fact they were cold and harsh. Kurt had a sinking feeling in his belly at Blaine’s tone. Whenever he fingered Kurt, he started with one finger, and he constantly asked Kurt if he was okay. He was gentle, caring, sweet. But now his hands were harsh against Kurt’s skin. The mere fact that he hadn’t kissed Kurt on the mouth once said something. The fact that he had Kurt licking the floor said something else.
Blaine was broken. Kurt had broken Blaine. There were no more boundaries, there were no more rules.
Blaine scissored his fingers inside of Kurt, stretching him. Kurt groaned at the sensation, earning a hard smack on his ass. “Quiet,” Blaine said. Kurt’s eyes widened, Blaine had never hit him before. Never. Kurt had no idea how far Blaine would go, and the thought both terrified and exhilarated him.
But it scared him a little bit more than it excited him.
-
Blaine knew something was broken in him. He’d never hit Kurt before. Not even sexually. But he’d just done it, and he was scared of the fact that he’d liked it. He liked the red mark it had left on Kurt’s milky skin, liked the way his ass rippled when his palm made contact with it. Liked the way Kurt stiffened, the way he tightened around Blaine’s fingers.
Blaine also wondered what gave him the inspiration to make Kurt lick the floor. It surprised him when Kurt actually did it, when he lapped up the residue of his previous blowjob. But that look, the hard look Kurt had given him before squirming down to the floor without using his hands, that look drove him crazy. The defiance in it was surprising. Kurt never disobeyed, never questioned Blaine or his commands. But then he did it. He put his mouth on the floor, determined to overcome his pride and suffer the humiliation of the action. And while he did it, he was wide open.
Blaine couldn’t resist the opportunity to finger Kurt. He’d never been so rough with it, never pushed in without warning, never stuck in two fingers first. He’d never made Kurt be quiet.
Something inside Blaine had snapped.
He wasn’t really thinking, there was something else inside of him, telling him what to do and how to do it. He wasn’t sure if he liked this voice, this influencer, but it had complete control.
Kurt was still trying to clean up the puddle, his face pressed against the floor. Blaine almost pitied him. Almost. He added another finger, earning a high pitched whine out of Kurt. His hand landed on his ass again, hard and rough. “Quiet,” he said again. Kurt gurgled out an incomprehensible response, breaking the quiet rule once again. Blaine considered spanking him again, but decided against it. Instead, he pulled his fingers out of Kurt completely, and hoisted him up to where he sat upright again. He needed to stop himself before this got out of hand.
Blaine took this time to revel at Kurt’s disheveled state. His face was red and splotchy, eyes red from tears Blaine hadn’t been aware of. Kurt closed his eyes, as if his vanity wouldn’t let him keep them open to reveal how swollen and red they were. There was an imprint from the floor on his face, a shallow crevice denting his cheek. Blaine reached out to run his finger along it, smiling sadly at the way Kurt leaned into his touch.
God, he was going to miss this.
“You could always stay,” Blaine said. He kept his hand on Kurt’s face, tracing invisible lines across it. “I can forgive you. You don’t have to go, Kurt. You’re my husband. I can forgive you.” Kurt didn’t say anything, and Blaine realized he didn’t give him permission to speak. “You can speak.”
Kurt opened his eyes. “I know,” he whispered. “That’s why I can’t stay.”
Blaine didn’t know what Kurt meant by this, but chose not to question it. Instead he just kept tracing lines across the brunette’s face. Kurt closed his eyes again. “Was I too rough?”
“You’ve never hit me before. Scared me a little,” Kurt said in response. It wasn’t really an answer.
“I’m guessing that’s a yes.”
Kurt breathed a deep sigh. “Scared me that I liked it, scared me that I didn’t know how far you would go. Scared me that I would have let you do whatever you wanted. Scared me that there were no more rules, and that I didn’t mind it,” he said. Blaine found himself sighing, too.
“Must have been too rough, if you felt like I’d go too far,” Blaine said. He cupped Kurt’s face in his hand. “Look at me, Kurt.” Kurt opened his eyes. “I hate you right now,” Blaine whispered. Kurt winced at the words, but eventually nodded in understanding. “You have no idea, Kurt. I hate you so much. I had to stop, because if I didn’t, I would have hurt you. Really hurt you, lost in myself and my emotions, and I wouldn’t have even realized it until it was too late. And the fact that—that you would have let me—that’s terrifying. So I think—I think we should stop. Before it’s gone too far…before we both end up regretting tonight even more than we already do.”
Kurt didn’t say anything for a long time. But eventually, he put his hand on Blaine’s knee, running his finger over the skin there. “You haven’t kissed me since we started this. Not on the mouth,” he whispered. Blaine looked at Kurt’s lips, the lips he had kissed a million times.
“I’m scared, Kurt.”
“It’s okay, Blaine. Kiss me,” he said. “Then, I want you to fuck me, however you want. Hurt me, or be gentle. I don’t care. Because whether you like it or not, I’m leaving in the morning,” Kurt said. Blaine choked on a sob. “I’m—I’m leaving. And I want to feel this for days, so do whatever you think you should do to make this last, Blaine. I will safe-word as soon as I feel like you’re going too far. You know what the word is for slow down, right?”
“Bette Midler,” Blaine said, giggling a bit. Kurt choked out a laugh, too. It really was stupid.
“Bette Midler, and Shakespeare. You know what they mean, and I trust you. Kiss me, Blaine.”
“You have to promise that you’d stop me if it goes too far. If it gets to be too much.”
“I promise, Blaine.”
And then Blaine’s lips were on his.
-
“I hate you right now.”
Kurt’s heart was ripped out of his chest when Blaine said that. But he figured it was reasonable. He’d hate him too, if he was in Blaine’s shoes. But that didn’t make him feel any better.
But now Blaine’s lips were on his and his tongue was fighting its way into his mouth and Blaine was pushing Kurt onto his back. The floor was hard, and had done a number on his knees, sure to leave bruises for a long time. He imagined by the end of this he would have bruises all over, and once again he was disturbed by the fact that he didn’t mind it in the least.
Blaine was on top of Kurt, kissing him. His cock was brushing against Kurt’s thigh, hard and leaking. “Fuck me,” Kurt said into Blaine’s mouth. Blaine nodded, lifting himself up for a moment to put on a condom. He ripped the tin wrapper open with his teeth, rolling the rubber on so quickly Kurt wasn’t even sure he saw it happen.
“Turn over,” Blaine said. “Face down, ass up. Be quiet.” The coldness from before had returned, and it sent a shiver down Kurt’s spine.
Bette Midler, Shakespeare. If you don’t stop him—if this goes too far—he will never forgive himself.
Kurt quickly followed Blaine’s instruction, positioning himself. Blaine pressed a finger to Kurt’s hole, circling the rim. Kurt bit back a whine, but he couldn’t help the gasp that escaped his lips. He heard Blaine chuckle behind him. The finger was gone, replaced with the blunt tip of Blaine’s cock. Kurt closed his eyes, prepared himself for the stretch. Blaine pushed in without warning, his fingertips digging into Kurt’s hips, sure to leave a bruise. Kurt couldn’t help himself, he cried out loud. Before he could even realize he’d made noise, Blaine’s hand was on his rear. He stifled a whimper, his breathing hard and heavy.
“I hate you right now .”
This was his way of letting out his anger. Kurt understood this, accepted it. He’d taken so much from Blaine. He could give him this much. Blaine was rocking into him, his thrusts fast and heavy. Kurt was a mess, earning a smack on the ass every few minutes or so. Blaine was breathing heavily, and though Kurt couldn’t see him, he could have guessed that Blaine was crying by the way his breathing staggered every once in a while.
“I had to stop, because if I didn’t, I would have hurt you.”
Blaine’s fingers were digging into Kurt’s hips even harder now, maybe even breaking the skin. Kurt’s ass was on fire, because Blaine’s hand kept coming down in the same place, but he kind of liked the burn. Though he’d feel it for days. Blaine was pushing inside of him harder with every thrust and it was beginning to get a little overwhelming for Kurt. Though it didn’t make sense, they’d gone harder.
Kurt was sobbing beneath Blaine now, because Blaine was moving against his prostate with every thrust. Because Blaine’s fingers were digging into his skin, a sharp pain. Because his ass hurt. Because he’d hurt Blaine so badly that Blaine was behaving this way. Because he was letting Blaine do this, letting him go this far. Because he liked the fact that Blaine had finally let go. Because he was breaking his promise, because this hurt. It hurt a lot.
“You have to promise that you’d stop me if it goes too far.”
It took him longer than it should have to safe-word. But eventually, he did.
“ B-Bette—Bette M-Midler. Blaine. Blaine! Bette Midler oh my God Bette M-Midler.”
-
It took Blaine a few seconds to register the words coming out of Kurt’s mouth, mainly because Kurt was a blabbering mess beneath him. But once he realized what Kurt was saying, he pulled out as quickly as he could and pulled Kurt up into his chest. Kurt’s eyes were lidded heavily, and he had saliva running down his chin. His cheeks were streaked with tears, lips swollen. Blaine winced at the sight.
You did that to him , Blaine thought.
Blaine began apologizing almost immediately. “Kurt I’m so sorry—I’m so fucking sorry. Why didn’t you stop me before—I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. Look at you—Kurt, I’m sorry—”
“Will you shut up,” Kurt mumbled, shifting in Blaine’s arms. “I said slow down not stop completely. It was just a lot, all at once. Your fingernails are sharp,” he said. Kurt’s hand reached down to his hip, his fingers pressing gingerly at the spots where Blaine had put his hands. Blaine looked at the little bruises that were already beginning to form from them, grimacing. “Relax, baby,” Kurt said. He reached out to touch Blaine on his face, his fingers ghosting over his cheekbones. Blaine took a deep breath.
“Okay,” he said. “I’m sorry,” he said again. “We’ve gone harder than that—minus the spanking, of course—so why’d you stop this time?” It was a genuine question. They’d done all sorts of things together, especially in their late teens and early twenties. They’d done bondage, exhibitionism, dom/sub play and all the sorts of things they’d been curious about. They were both twenty-eight now, a bit calmed down with all the more outgoing things. They still did them every once in a while, on special occasions. But as for hard sex, they usually did it like that. Blaine knew Kurt’s limits when it came to sex. He knew Kurt’s limits when it came to most things. Hell, he just knew Kurt.
A little bit too well, actually.
Kurt spoke after a while. “I felt you slipping away. You weren’t you, you weren’t Blaine. You were some angry, foreign creature,” he said. Blaine just looked at him. “And I know—I know why you were like that, and I know it’s my fault—but for some reason it hurt . Even though we’ve done more, gone harder. It hurt . So I safe-worded.” Kurt ran his finger across Blaine’s hairline.
“Okay,” he said. He didn’t quite understand, but tonight understanding Kurt was kind of impossible, so he just went with it. “I’m going to kiss you now,” he said. Kurt nodded.
This kiss was slow and gentle, their lips moving against one another’s in synch. They'd been in synch like this since they’d first met, really. Kurt had taken Blaine’s hand without hesitation. When they kissed for the first time, it wasn’t weird or awkward, it was perfect. It was always perfect (save for that time at Scandal’s) and even though they were being ripped apart by this betrayal, they hadn’t lost that synchronization. Kurt shifted to where he was straddling Blaine, his long legs on either side of him. Their erections were pressed against one another, Blaine still coated with a condom. Kurt gyrated his hips against Blaine, pulling a high pitched whine from the honey eyed man.
Kurt didn’t wait for Blaine to give him any instruction. He lifted himself up, ignoring the ache in his muscles from the action. He lowered himself down onto Blaine, shuddering as took all of Blaine. Blaine shuddered, too, deepening their kiss. He let Kurt take the lead this time, let him move at the pace he wanted.
“You’re just walking out of my life,” he whispered into Kurt’s mouth. Kurt closed his eyes regretfully. “I’m still so angry with you, but I don’t want you to go. Is that weird? Am I weird?”
Kurt moved on top of him a few times before answering. “No, Blaine, you’re not weird. You’re perfect. I’m just incredibly fucked up.” He threw his head back as Blaine thrust his hips upward to meet Kurt half way. “ Fuck , do that again,” he whimpered. Blaine’s chest tightened.
“You like that?” Blaine said, thrusting up into Kurt again. “And yes, you are fucked up. Incredibly so. But you’re no better than I am.” He squeezed his eyes closed.
“I wouldn’t have forgiven me.”
“I haven’t forgiven you,” Blaine deadpanned.
“I would have reacted much worse than you have,” Kurt reasoned. Blaine kissed him again before speaking.
“You’ve seen this house, right? I did that,” he said. Kurt shook his head. They were quiet for a while after that, the only sound being skin on skin and the moans and gasps for air.
The silence was safe, because Blaine knew they’d talked too much. But he also wanted to talk more, because he knew this would be their last conversation for a very long time. If not forever.
-
Riding Blaine was not a good idea. Don’t get him wrong, Kurt loved riding Blaine. However, his legs were already on fire, and this position took a lot of leg work. He was practically drowning in lactic acid.
It was as if Blaine could feel his discomfort, because he positioned his hands on Kurt’s hips, stilling the blue eyed boy.
“You’re still hurting,” he said. Kurt nodded, not talking yet, because it was taking him a moment to adjust to all of Blaine being inside of him at once, without him moving. He felt so full. He took a gasp of air, and Blaine understood that. A few moments passed before he was able to speak again.
“It’s a lot of leg work, yeah,” he said. Blaine looked up at him, his mouth twisted into a half grin. “What are you smiling at?”
“We are never going to finish this,” he said.
The words made Kurt quiet, and Blaine softened once he realized what he’d said. The weight of it. Because they were going to be finished, whether they got off that night or not.
“You’re right. I don’t think this is going to work,” Kurt said.
Slowly, Kurt pulled off of Blaine. He pulled Blaine’s condom off, throwing it aside. He’d throw it away later.
Blaine didn’t say anything when Kurt began to stroke him. His hand moved along Blaine’s length with ease, teasing the head of his cock before sliding down. Blaine let out a shuddering breath before reaching over and touching Kurt.
This was the end.
—
Blaine came quietly.
It sent shock-waves through him, rendering him completely speechless. Kurt stroked him through it, his hand never stopping. When Kurt came, it wasn’t as quiet, a choked cry escaping his ruby lips. After, when they’d gotten up off of the floor and cleaned themselves off, they lay down on their bed. Blaine had put on a pair of boxers, Kurt opting to simply put on one of Blaine’s old hoodies.
He tried his best not to cry.
He failed.
Kurt didn’t respond immediately, but soon he threw a leg over Blaine’s waist. Blaine ignored the fact that Kurt wasn’t wearing any underwear and turned in towards him. Kurt held him while he cried, and soon he felt Kurt’s shoulders shake with silent tears.
They remained like that for a long time—eventually Blaine cried himself to sleep.
When he woke up, the room was clean. A lot of things were missing from it, Kurt’s things were missing.
Despite the evidence that Kurt had gotten up and left early that morning, Blaine walked through his apartment, looking for him. Expecting to find him in the kitchen eating breakfast, or in the bathroom. Maybe in their recreational room, in front of the piano or the sewing machine.
Instead, he found an immaculately clean house. Gone were the shattered knick-knacks. Every thing was turned back on its head properly. It seemed emptier, because it was. Kurt had taken most of his things with him. Blaine knew that he’d be back to get the rest of it, probably at a time when he knew Blaine wouldn’t be home.
On the kitchen table was a letter, written in Kurt’s meticulous handwriting. Blaine let out a sob when he read what it said.
—
I love you, goodbye.