❝ Isabelle Wright’s office— Please wait while I transfer you.” Answering the phone connected to his headset almost felt like an out of body experience. His mind stuck on some kind of strange autopilot while his heart continued to crumble deep inside his chest— still beating; still functioning and pumping blood out into his veins and yet, somehow, no longer whole in its existence.
Of course Blaine still wanted to see him before he left. Leaving the loft the way that he did, out of the door before 7am and not once uttering a single sound as he had gotten dressed on the bed right next to the guy in question, he probably shouldn’t have expected his former boyfriend’s reaction to be much different; his thoughts all-consumed and swallowing thickly as he reread the notifications up on his phone before he finally (and after quite a few long hard minutes of empty staring) found the courage to once again open up their private conversation.
Home was no longer a person.
( mssg » blaine | sent ) I can’t.
Standing face to face with the man he had once loved, with who had he shared and overcome so many memories, who had encouraged to him to go to New York and begin to make a life for himself a year ahead of him, who he had promised to never say goodbye; who had knowingly betrayed his trust and made it seem as though as it meant nothing, Kurt simply didn’t think he could bear it.
This… was just something he was going to have to learn to live with; teeth sinking down into his bottom lip as he watched, with intent eyes, as the message rapidly marked ‘delivered’; the lump in his throat unyielding as he waited, anxious for whichever reply would come next as he fought back the tears he so desperately wanted to remain hidden inside of him.
Time felt so slow now. Impossibly slow. An hourglass filled with sand that every tiny particle was an eternity that passed by agonizingly slow seemed to fill to the brim with how long he waited for the reply to come. His anxiety turned the ache into an excruciating torture. Blaine knew, somewhere in the back of his mind, that he should be packing. Whether or not he heard back, he knew it wasn’t going to be a situation he could fix automatically in one night.
Kurt would still need his space, still want him GONE but he couldn’t bring himself to start. What if he got a message that Kurt would come back? What if, by some miracle, he’d get to stay one more night so they could talk and he could leave in the morning? What kind of a moron lets himself believe something so childish and greedy and foolish? Him. He did. Sort of but a sliver of hope was better than none at all.
A notion proven as idiotic as it sounded in his head when he received only two words back. I can’t. Blaine’s hope gave out and so did his spine. Slouched over and letting his arms sag between his knees, hazel eyes red and brimming with tears finally blinked and let them fall. Hope wasn’t something he deserved but he so so wanted it.
( mssg » kurt | sent ) I’m s o sorry. I lvoe you. I’ll be ggone as soon as i can.
He pressed send with trembling fingers, eyes practically blind with tears as hope died out and he stood up barely computing what to do next. His things. He needed to get his things together but all he could do was stare at Kurt’s pillow and wonder if that was the last time he’d ever be close to him in any way. Fingertips reached out, tracing over the fabric before he picked it up and took in the smell of Kurt’s hair and skin and shampoo.
It was silly to make the bed but that’s what he started to do, letting the phone fall on the comforter as he sat the pillow down and smoothed it out. Then did the same to his the other one. This was it, it was over. He wouldn’t be welcome here again. He lost his home. It was burned to the ground, actually. And he was the one who threw the match. Heartbroken, there was no one else to blame other than himself.
Another quiet breath caught lightly in Kurt’s throat as blue eyes continued to stare out blankly at the crisp white editorial covered walls directly opposite his desk at Isabelle’s Condé Nast office. It had been a long night, his boss’ phones were ringing off the hook and yet somehow, in spite of everything and his current surroundings, he was trembling. Anxiously watching his phone vibrate and alertly scanning over his phone’s notifications as he received yet another pointless e-mail about the latest vintage finds and fashions. He hadn’t slept. It had been practically impossible. The soft, all too familiar sounds of his ex-boyfriend’s gentle breathing haunting him even as he lay there, wide awake, incapable of moving.
Blaine had always been his safety net. His one shoulder to cry on and the one person he could turn to whenever things got messy or complicated. Neither one of them had expected the distance to be easy. Instead, he had been left heartbroken. A piece of him completely evaporated as he had watched him, emotionally belting out the notes to a song that had once meant so much to them. He had been paralyzed. Blaine’s words playing over and over in his mind and his brief talk with Finn only furthering his need to get out of the loft as soon as humanly possible.
Thanking one of his Vogue coworkers for the quiet refill on his coffee mug, he quickly refroze in his position as his eyes glazed over the all too familiar new notifications on his phone’s shiny display. He wasn’t sure what he had anticipated. Whether to respond, or to throw away his number and forget anything had ever transpired between them at all. Typing, hesitant and uncertain; his insides definitely shaking, Kurt finally pressed ‘send’ on his response.
( mssg » blaine | sent ) I’m at the office.
Every last detail of the room started to come into focus as he waited for Kurt’s reply wondering if he’d ever get one. Blaine bit into his bottom lip–attention locked on one item in particular sitting on the nightstand beside the bed. The coffee mug he’d placed there before they left for the night was one of those silly touristy looking white ceramics with the New York City skyline hand drawn and wrapped around the entire surface. He’d picked it out and sent it to Kurt only a week after he moved away–stuffed with a few coffee gift cards promising that he’d be there soon to have their coffee dates in person but these were going to have to do until then. Two months ago but it felt like a lifetime now.
Last night, it was filled to the brim with tea as they got ready and Blaine kept sipping it trying to get the courage to say the words that he knew would change them forever. The courage to face what he did and potentially lose Kurt and never get him back. Hoping for the best was the only option he had. Deep down–he knew and feared that he’d get what he deserved. And he did. Fixing it, fixing them was all he had left. Taking it back was impossible. If begging for the chance would give him one? He’d be on his knees right now. But panic set in. How could he fix it if he didn’t have the slightest idea how?
This time–he didn’t have any answers. This time–he was as lost as he’d ever felt. And so so sorry. If guilt could erase everything? Proof positive it couldn’t and wouldn’t was a set of trembling hands and tears welling up in his eyes. Kurt owed him nothing..but he could try? Going back to Ohio without trying? He couldn’t..
( mssg » kurt | sent ) I’ll go. I promise. Just.. Can I see you before..? Please,come home.
The thing about mornings are they’re always a new beginning. When you wake up–there’s a few seconds where all you feel is the warmth of the blankets and the comfort that you’ve sunk into during sleep. No matter what happens before drifting off (in Blaine’s case for less than three hours) there’s a blissful sense of–peace. Until your life tunes back in with the sunlight leaking through the curtains stirring you away from the solitude from your thoughts. Blaine’s first instinct was to reach behind him and feel for the hip that was supposed to be against his. There was nothing but a cold outside of a space on the bed long abandoned.
His world sped up. Reality came crashing down with flashbacks from last night causing his throat to feel like it was torn to shreds and had a rock jammed inside to suffocate him. His heart shattered and there came the vile taste of guilt in the back of his mouth. One he should be used to by now but was even more potent than every morning since it happened. ‘I was with someone..’ The apartment was empty. He could feel that from here. Hollowness that crept inside his bones. What more could he expect? Swallowing painfully–he pushed himself up on one elbow, purposefully avoiding looking behind him and grabbed his phone instead. 9:39 am was when the first string of apologies began to pour out before his feet even touched the floor.
( mssg » kurt | sent ) I know I don’t deserve it. I know you hate me. ( mssg » kurt | sent ) I’m sorry. Please come back. I don’t want to leave like this. Please?
pianokeysandbowties back up 