tongueticd‌.

         Moment after moment, Kurt fell deeper. The track of time had long since replaced him and he never fell back into the groove he’d clawed his way out of. At least that’s how it felt at the time, for a split second. The words had spilled out and he’d never been able to shove them back in his mouth,  his own insecurities taking the wheel, foot heavy on the gas until they had him slamming against the wall of regret at a million miles per hour. The damage was done in seconds and it had seemed irreparable. Funny how when he finally had everything he’d ever wanted, it became a point of fear, second guessing. There were plenty of emotions running through him, humming under the surface, but all he could focus on was Blaine. Eyelashes resting against his cheeks as his soul poured over the piano, filling the room and sinking Kurt deeper and deeper. He’d regretted ending it, and yet he’d spent every day since then regretting doing just that. At the time it had felt right. He’d wanted to do anything to just get back to them or end the tension that was a suffocating noose that he couldn’t rid his neck of. 

        The noose would have been a comfort had he of known what it would be like without him, again. But if it weren’t for everything, chances are he wouldn’t have been out celebrating, wouldn’t have been here, having the first incredible day in years. Whether that persisted or not, well, time would tell, but all he could do was … Follow the drunken lead of his heart, or brain? Whoever was operating him at the moment, though it was really his feet that carried him in here. All it took for Kurt’s heart to lunge from his stomach up into his throat was Blaine’s eyes to find his, for him to finally look up

— voice cracking in surprise and recognition. The surprise was evident, clear as day on playwright’s face while his hand flipped around, falling from his lips in a dazed wave. Smooth. Kurt found himself nodding for a moment, before snapping out of the trance, reigning back the emotion and disbelief as best he could. There wasn’t a sliver of hatred (from what he could tell) present on Blaine’s features. 

        He had time to finish the song, and give his thanks 

— to which Kurt clapped 

— mostly on autopilot, mostly stuck in that same daze that had the moment slipping past and blurring all at once. He was trying desperately to take in as much of Blaine as he could, if only to memorize him before (if) he chose to disappear for good. But instead he was nodding to the back and Kurt was following as if a hook had been cast, caught in his shirt and tugging him through the crowd towards the exist on the ghost of Blaine’s heels. Truthfully, his mind had a million whirling at him all at once, demanding attention louder than the last that he couldn’t really process where to even begin in terms of a speech, a conversation starter

— as if he wasn’t a writer. In the business meetings it was easy to disconnect, take a breath and think WWCBD?  Disconnect and write the moment,how it would look on paper, and project that confidence forth. It had done him well, but these were all people with little knowledge of him.

    This was Blaine Anderson and he wasn’t so easily fooled. To even be dissecting the moment on this level as he pushed through the crowd, was too much, but it all silenced the moment he pushed through the exit door that had just closed after Blaine, and it was as if the world shut off for a second. The chatter of New York, broken down to honking horns and jovial yells or laughter of streets and blocks away, the jostle of manhole covers as tires rolled over them and the odd flutter of pigeon wings seemed both muted and immediately loud at once, only shoved away by the hinge of the door clattering shut as his feet hit the broken cement of the alleyway in Little Italy, rounding about to come face to face, one on one with Blaine. 

    Where did he begin? “I… 

— that was beautif

— what are you

—?” Too much at once, and all of it sounded lame and had Kurt shaking his head apologetically, lips gaping in stilled disbelief, eyes glistening with the same emotion from before under the hanging lanterns from one of the tenants above. Kurt’s heart was pounding furiously and yet, it was the least distracting thing save for the blood it had pumped to every inch of his alabaster skin. “I’m sorry, it’s just really good to see you

—

“ and obviously he hadn’t been expecting it, “I was walking by and heard your voice and … I hadn’t thought it could be you

—

“  because the Universe seldom worked that way. “

—Wow, Blaine.” The alcohol curbed the embarrassment he would have had, and yet he was fully entranced, eyes locked on the other’s still

— though he had plenty of time to take him in, but that was before they were stood outside, facing one another in the startling silence of New York, because it all fell away against him. “

— You . .. look

— er, sound

— you sound great.” I can’t believe it’s you was laced in every bit, mirroring back the surprise from earlier and yet, he was frozen, locked within the other’s presence as if Blaine had stilled quite literally everything but the heart that was about to leap out of his chest. “I didn’t think anyone could do Florence and the Machine justice

— but … You. Wow.” This wasn’t just about the music. No, not at all. 

          Through all of his disbelief, Kurt remained there.  Not a ghost that disappeared the minute he realized he was staring too long at nothing.  Because, even after all these years, after all the self-resolve he’d built up and the million hours spend telling himself how he’d react if they managed to run into one another in a city like New York filled with enough frenzied craziness that people who lived together barely saw one another?  No amount for speeches or looks he gave himself in the mirror (in the beginning, he’d gone through some weird moments of coping, okay?) prepared him enough that they surfaced when it actually happened.  On a night just like any other night for the past few years.  With his sacred patterns and means of getting by that were an autopilot that became a lifestyle were thrown off with the barest look up and the barest glimpse into a set of eyes he’d often tell himself he couldn’t quite remember.  

           

Tell that to the coffee cups in shades of green and blue that were his favorites.  They were cheap.  On sale.  Part of an ocean collection at Target, see?  Practical.  Not for any other reason.  Just like his blanket.  Or how he often found himself bypassing navy and going for the color where the sky meets the grass on a sunny day in the middle of a suffocatingly hot Ohio Summer.  Didn’t mean anything at all.  Tastes change, right? 

His wardrobe didn’t.   But the things he surrounded himself might tug a certain heartstring he called style preference nowadays.

             Now here they were.  New York City pulsing around them.  A blundering mess of noises that probably continued on past the blanket of silence he felt settling around them in the alleyway.  His fingertips went like spiders legs, dancing near the sides of his thighs over the brownstone that stretched high above his head as he thunked the back of it against the roughness and stared at the patterns of it on the opposite side of the corridor.  And he waited, staring up at the sway of a paper covered light threatening to bounce against the other one swinging so very close.  Breathing in deep in spite of yesterday’s alcoholic trash a block away he’d become nose blind to. Mostly..  Cause you never get over the certain saucier nights when damn..is it garbage day tomorrow..?   Thankfully that day was today.  His throat felt like it was going to cave in.  Breathing became difficult for a split second.  The metal whine of the door swinging open stopped the increasing pressure in his windpipe.  It threw him off the panic of thinking what he was going to do just in time for him to press his heel against the stone and give himself the momentum to stand up straight.  His fingers brushed themselves off against his pants. By time Kurt came into view…?

               Blaine’s smile was small but he meant it.  His eyes softy glistening but there was a warm hello in them that everyone who knew him then and now would say was in his DNA.  Regardless if he purposefully put it there or not.  It was how he was wired.  And he was too set in his ways for that to ever go away.  In spite of who was on the receiving end.  How long it lasted?  That said more.  The outburst from Kurt, his surprise and tongue twisted rambling made it grow and blossom.  His teeth glinted white in the amber light.  He knew Kurt.  Knew that bouncy excitement made him unable to form complete sentences and nearly bounce off the walls.  He remembered the days he was the reason for it.  Bitterly at first.  Then with a fondness that became a reason to chuckle when he saw something he knew would make the boy from his past lose his mind and got nostalgic.  Turns out trying not to think of someone has them creep in in the strangest of ways.  Lady Gaga and Tony Bennett Christmas Special, for example.  What a night of remembering that was.

                 He, patiently, let Kurt work himself through it understanding that interrupting would hurt his his feelings or embarrass him for being caught so dangerously not composed.  Was Kurt buzzed?  He was!  Wow.  Okay.  That was new.  Blaine palmed over his mouth, scrunched a brow downwards and cocked his head to the side upon noticing that.  But the look was gone and he was back to that non-judgmental smile once Kurt settled enough for him to get a word in edge wise.  No his cheeks weren’t burning.  No he wasn’t blushing at the compliments.  Nah.  “First?  Thank you very much.  I’m glad you enjoyed the music and passing your Florence critique has to rank up there with passing it by the queen herself.”  It was small talk, something to soothe Kurt’s nerves because Blaine was still that person.  To everyone.  “How’d you end up here?  By here–I mean..  Little Italy?  What are you doing in my neck of the woods?  It’s a pretty long shot from..”  He pressed his lips together, held up a finger and motioned that Kurt didn’t have to answer that just yet.

                   Instead, he stepped forward and throwing caution to the wind..  Only hesitated one jerky motion before tucking himself against Kurt’s right side and giving him a lightly hug.  “I mean.  It’s good to see you.  Really good to see you.  You look good, too.”  He stepped back but remained close leaving Kurt to be the one to let him go rather than pull out of his arms like it bothered him he was there.   “How have you been?  How are things?  What have you been up to?”  Cupping Kurt’s shoulders with a gentle squeeze, Blaine seemed to study him close.  A connection made through unwavering eye contact and devoted attention that showed he really wanted to know the answer to his questions.