#everyroad

Blaine blinks awake to an empty bed.

“Kurt?” he calls, but before he even finds Kurt’s note he knows he isn’t here. The absence feels huge - like a yawning, stupid space between them. The person he aches to make happy is hurting, and Blaine can’t hold him close because he’s not even here.

He stands, pulls on pajama pants, and shakes off the sting and the apprehension. He went to sleep with Kurt’s body pressed against his, their legs tangled and bodies sated, but he’s certainly old enough to avoid agonizing over one morning of waking alone.

The trouble is, Kurt on his mind like this tends to limit his capacity to think about anything else.

He opens his wardrobe and lays out bright pants and a Givenchy polo shirt with a camouflage stripe for after his shower.

The day stretches long before him. He wants to write, longs to find something positive with which he can move forward. But in the shower, the whole Little Prince concept feels flat and dull. At his desk, the Aviator is an elusive character with no personality of his own. The Little Prince sounds affected in Blaine’s head. Nothing interesting materializes.

It’s mid-afternoon when Blaine gives in. Predictably, he feels that he’s achieved nothing with his day. He tried to write but was distracted by a hundred things - viewing Apollo Ohno’s latest super slim fit shirts and shorts, catching up on the local music and theater calendar, clearing out his fridge. And always Kurt.

It is a relief to leave for the theater.

He has watched Kurt through disappointment before. He knows and trusts the way that Kurt survives. Still, Kurt is beautiful, and Kurt is Blaine’s. It shouldn’t be about survival, not again. This time around Blaine really should be able to swoop in and make everything right. Instead, he spent his day alone at home, looking out the window and writing a show no one will probably ever see.

“You’re early,” says Luisa, who’s setting up at bar.

Blaine nods acknowledgement.  

Backstage is predictably crowded. Blaine stops to speak with Lettie from props, but only briefly. He brushes past Navin from the band with a quick smile. All he wants is to see Kurt. It’s not that surprising; when he thinks about it he honestly can’t remember a time when he didn’t want to see Kurt. But today this desire is colored with worry in a way it hasn’t needed to be for the past couple of weeks.

Kurt looks surprised when Blaine finds him in a dressing room. But his, “Blaine!” is as warm as ever.

“I missed you,” says Blaine stepping close.

Kurt smiles, “I missed you too.”

“How are you with- everything?”

Kurt shuts his eyes for a moment. “Good. Fine.”

“Kurt?”

Kurt reaches around Blaine to close the dressing room door. “I’m fine, Blaine,” he says and leans in to kiss Blaine thoroughly.

“Stop trying to distract me,” Blaine says, breathless.

“I’m not allowed to kiss you?”

“No, well... yes, but we usually avoid it here.”

Kurt looks at him closely. “Well I don’t think anyone is going to accuse you of nepotism, any more, are they?”

Blaine breathes out slowly. “Kurt. I’m sorry.”

“No,” Kurt says quickly. “No, I don’t mean for you to be sorry. This is absolutely not your fault. But look-” He narrows his eyes. “Look, right now I need to go. They’re rehearsing the fight scene with the new guy and I should be there. And then we’ll be called on stage. There’s a lot going on and it all matters and I need to focus.”

Blaine nods. “Okay. Break a leg. I love you.”

“I love you too,” says Kurt immediately. “See you later.” He goes.

Blaine is not reassured, but there is a show to put on. He heads toward the band rehearsal space.

Ten minutes before the curtains are due to open, Blaine stops in the wings and scans the audience. He has only a vague idea of what Adam and Benji look like: Tall, handsome, blonde, English. Taller, black, drag queen. Some of those things won’t be visible from here.

He glances back off stage. Kurt is standing in the wings, breathing and humming under his breath to ensure his voice is perfectly primed. He doesn’t look Blaine’s way.

Blaine’s not worried about the relationship, not exactly. He just wants to reassure himself that the bone-deep forever and ever connection between them won’t disappear when they don't have all the answers.

Finally the show starts and then Blaine’s words are on Kurt’s lips.Kurt is as good as he has ever been, perhaps better. It’s a kind of triumph, knowing Kurt will always be exceptional under pressure. Blaine watches. Tonight there’s added poignancy though. Blaine bites his lip as David faces the audience, singing, I am strong, even on my own.

Not on your own, never on your own Blaine thinks as though he can make it true.   

At this moment Blaine can’t imagine a stage show without him. He wants to write every word for Kurt. But maybe Kurt’s right and that kind of reliance is too much - too dangerous and too indulgent.

After the performance, Blaine heads to the foyer. The room is full of people and is a blaze of lights: an anachronistic combination of art deco wall sconces and 1950s chandeliers. It’s been half an hour since the show ended, and the crowd is beginning to thin out.

Blaine is caught up with Devi and Elisha, speaking with one of the short term sponsors.

“Okay, though, you have got to see Goliath's head on the stake,” says Devi to the guy, laughing her big laugh. “And the one sheep that bleats in tune, at least when Kurt or Amaryllis sing.” Devi drags him backstage.

A moment later, Kurt enters through the doors from the theater. He’s taken the time to change into his street clothes. Blaine watches as he is engulfed in conversation by two admittedly very tall guys.

“The visiting ex?” says Elisha, nodding toward them.

“Yeah, Adam. And his boyfriend Benji.”

“Adam’s the white guy?”

Blaine nods.

In the early weeks of their break-up, Blaine imagined Kurt with other guys – imagined him undressing with someone else’s eyes on him, imagined someone undoing his belt, imagined Kurt kissing and touching and fucking someone who wasn’t Blaine. It seemed necessary somehow, though it was nearly unbearable. There were tiny moments when the pain of envisioning Kurt with someone else’s hands on his skin could almost erase the horrible fact that Blaine knew exactly what that felt like.

Eventually he had to stop. It didn’t change anything. It didn’t stop him from hating himself.

He watches Kurt with Adam now, the ease of his body, his confidence as he swiftly touches Adam’s arm.  Kurt’s not comfortable like that with everyone. Physical contact has never been simple for him, especially with men.

Blaine’s not jealous but he feels greedy and a little resentful. He is aware of the ways in which this guy probably knows Kurt, he is discovering all the things Kurt learned to do without Blaine sharing his bed, without Blaine holding him as his shoulders shook and he came back to himself. He has to remind himself that he could have been every one of Kurt’s lovers. Maybe. Even Blaine accepts that it’s difficult for seventeen year olds to promise forever.

Across the room Kurt lifts his head then waves to Blaine happily.

Blaine shakes off the memories and smiles. “There’s my cue,” he says.

“You got this,” Elisha says.

When Blaine approaches, Kurt takes his arm. “This is Blaine,” he says. His face is vivid. “Blaine, this is Adam and Benji.”

Adam stretches out a hand and Blaine takes it with his free one. Adam’s eyes crinkle a little.

“Blaine Anderson,” he says. “You have been high on my list of people to meet for a long time. And I have to say your show was phenomenal.”

Blaine can’t help but smile back. He isn’t sure what he was expecting, but given his earlier thinking it’s slightly unreasonable that Adam is kind, on top of everything else.

“Thank you,” he says. He shakes hands with Benji too, looking up into amused eyes. He continues, blushing a little and speaking quickly. “A lot of the credit has to go to the actors. They’re all incredible. Kurt is more than I even hoped.”

“We were just saying,” says Adam. “We couldn’t drag our eyes away.” He looks across to include Benji. “You broke my heart up there, Kurt.”

“I aim to please,” Kurt says, looking flustered. Then more seriously, “Thank you. I think you can blame Blaine for some of that.”

They all stand still for a fraction. Then Benji lets out a puff of laughter. “Oh. This is going to be fun,” he says. Blaine doesn’t think he’s being sarcastic. “You boys up for a late dinner?”

**

Adam leans his weight against Benji in the booth. Blaine and Kurt are sitting in the seat facing them, looking polished and young and unspeakably sweet as they discuss the menu.

“We could split the brie en croute and something healthy,” says Kurt.

Blaine nods earnestly. “Dijon asparagus salad?”

“Ooh. Perfect.”

Adam kind of wants to pet them both.

“So tell us,” he says, “What’s the plan with the show? Are you taking it to New York?” He doesn’t miss Blaine’s quick glance at Kurt.

“We’re looking into it. Right now we’re working on a production team and finance.”

“I’m not really involved in that aspect,” says Kurt brightly. “Which is best for everyone.” His voice rings and is brittle.

“We have some leads,” says Blaine. “We’ll get there. But tell us about tomorrow night, Benji. It’s an awards show?”

“Just like the Tonys,” says Benji. “And I’m Neil Patrick Harris. In a dress. Or rather seven dresses and a catsuit.”

“Speaking of which,” Kurt says. “Did you sort out the stitching on the samba outfit?”

Kurt’s interest in Benji’s work and his fantastical costuming is consistent and genuine, but Adam senses his relief at the change of subject.

Benji leans in. “The secret was more sequins.”

Kurt giggles, covers his mouth. “Of course it was!”

Benji says, “I look like fireworks on the lanai. Just wait until you see it. Adam can tell you. He had a taste today at rehearsal. Bit of a shambles, though.”

Adam smiles, remembering. “Only because the risers weren’t set up properly. You were wonderful, Benj.” He turns to Kurt and Blaine. “You boys are going to love it. There’s this bit with a puppet bird. Iridescent purple. I was in floods of tears.”

“Were you laughing or crying?” asks Kurt. He moves his arm so it rests against Blaine’s on the table. Blaine laces their fingers together.

“Both, love. Benji is inspired. The whole thing is ridiculous and inspired.”

“He’s just saying that because I am fantastic in bed,” says Benji. But he kisses Adam high on his cheek.

Kurt smiles and presses himself closer to Blaine’s side. Despite that, there's a wary energy between them that Adam wasn't anticipating. “Did you bring any of the New York dancers out?” Kurt asks.

“No, but I have to tell you, San Francisco boys are putting on a fine showing,” says Benji.

When dinner is over they all head in different directions.

“We’ll see you boys tomorrow night,” Benji says as they part ways.   

Adam watches from the tram stop as Blaine and Kurt talk quietly. Kurt wraps his arms around Blaine’s neck and they kiss, soft and slow in the night. Then they walk in opposite directions. A few steps later Kurt pulls out his phone.

“The honeymoon is over?” says Benji.

“I don’t think so,” says Adam. “But something is going on.”

“It was a good night.” says Benji. “They’re good company. And that show - I wish I'd thought to bring tissues. Kurt was genuinely mind-blowing.”

Adam smiles. “He was. He’s always been special but they’ve pulled something remarkable together. Hopefully they can make it to Broadway.”

Benji rests his hand at Adam’s waist and fingers his belt. Adam looks up at him. He thinks about their comped room, the wide expanse of bed, the wide expanse of Benji's skin. “Let’s splurge and take a cab to the hotel?”

Benji smiles, slow and knowing. “I don’t know. I was thinking we could walk. I show off a lot of leg in that tiny sailor dress,” he says.

“I can envision other ways to exercise,” says Adam. It’s a line and it’s cheesy but he’s actually never been above that.

Benji rolls his eyes and laughs low in his chest. “I bet you can,” he says. “Okay then, sir. This is usually easier in drag.” He stretches out a long arm to hail a cab.