#maebyfunkefresh

“Alright,” he says, biting his lower lip. “Alright.”

Kurt takes a deep, shuddering breath, his fingers curling against his mouth. “You know why I said no, Blaine.”

The reality of it all slaps him in the face. “I know. I’m sorry. That was out of line.”

Kurt doesn’t say anything. Of course he doesn’t. He honestly just wants to know what’s going on in that brain of his—are they scared thoughts? Negative thoughts? This was a bad idea. Sam was right.

“You two are a cute couple.”

“Oh, we’re not a couple.”

“I’ll just…I’ll just get going now,” Blaine mumbles, turning on his heel and walking out the door, leaving Kurt to stand in the middle of the choir room by himself.

And he feels as if the lights in his brain shut off one by one.

As Blaine steps into his car and grips the wheel, the cogs in his head turn and turn. They’re supposed to be together, right? KurtandBlaine. This feels like the universe is playing an annoying, elaborate joke on him, on par with the best of pranksters. He puts his key into the ignition, steps on the gas, and drives the hell out of the McKinley High parking lot, tears hot and fresh running down his face.

He just drives and drives with no destination in mind.

Moments later, he finds himself in front of Sam’s house. He doesn’t care that it’s late; he parks in front of the tiny, yellow house and knocks on the door.

“Dude, what happened?” Sam exclaims when he sees Blaine standing on his doorstep, completely wrecked.

Sam ushers his best friend in as quickly as he can.

-----

Santana is pretty damn sure she is the world’s greatest mind reader. She credits her incredibly accurate psychic Mexican third eye, which part of her thinks she inherited from the abuela on her dad’s side, but honestly, it’s just something she’s developed properly over the past few years—the innate ability to read people.

Walking to the guest room of the Hummel-Hudson household (her parents were on vacation visiting relatives in Toledo, and no way in hell was she going to stay at her abuela’s) in nothing but a towel and a Twisty Towel wrapped high and tight over her head, she notices that Kurt’s door is left slightly ajar, and instead of hearing the loud and annoying sounds of fifties show tunes blasting from his speakers, she hears nothing at all—which is the weirdest fucking thing in the universe.

Sighing, she pads down the hall and knocks on his door.

She hears a little sniff. “Go away.”

“It’s me, pasty face,” she says, opening the door a little more and leaning against the doorframe. Kurt’s bundled up in his bed, surrounded by a funeral home’s worth of Kleenex, eyes red and hair looking absolutely shitty—which isn’t him at all.

“I told you to go away, Santana,” Kurt grumbles, throwing a wad of used Kleenex at her, which she dodges with a little sidestep.

“Don’t throw your germs at me, Hummel. I’m half naked and I’d rather not touch anything with your gunk on it with any part of my body.” She makes her way to his bed and sits on the edge, holding her towel up and swinging her legs up. “Now, tell Auntie ‘Tana what’s wrong. Did Blaine do something?” she asks, her tone a little more serious.

“He did everything,” Kurt says, holding his hands up incredulously. “He proposed to me. Do you know how crazy that is?”

“And judging by your blotchy face and your ever-growing fuzz ball of tissues, you said…”

“I said no!” he mutters.

She arches an eyebrow. “Then why are you crying? If anyone should be crying right now, it’s Blaine. This is actually his dumbest idea in the world and—”

“I don’t know why I’m crying; that’s the stupidest thing,” Kurt groans, covering his face with a pillow. “I’m trying my best to get over him, and there he goes, acting all Blaine like. Like he was before the break-up. Attentive, sweet—I honestly thought that was him just trying to make this friendship work like I was. And then, the dinner with Jan and Liz—him getting down on a fucking knee and proposing—it’s all just him wanting to get back together.”

“Hold up. This is why I was wondering why you two bonked dicks on Valentine’s Day—are you sure you want to be over Blaine Anderson? Have you talked to him about this?”

Kurt sighs and rests his arm over his stomach, turning to face her. “Not in so many words since the wedding.”

“And you’re with Doctor Who right now—so I suggest you talk to the Little Lannister before we leave for New York and just cut off all sorts of contact with him for the time being. You need space. Hell, he needs space, I bet.”

Kurt lets out a little sound between a cry and a chuckle. “Little Lannister? Honestly? He’s not that short.”

“Hey, have you seen him standing next to your brother?”

He rolls his eyes and holds his arms out to her. “Thanks, Santana.”

“I can’t hug you now, I’m naked—and we both know we’re not into that sort of thing.”

-----

“He said no, Sam,” Blaine says, throwing the ring at a corner of Sam’s room. Sam sighs and stands up, picking up the ring and pocketing it. “He said no and just looked at me. He just stared at me like I was—like I was bat-shit crazy!”

“Okay, whoa, dude, calm down,” Sam says, pulling his desk chair out and rolling over to Blaine, who’s sitting on the edge of his bed. “Tell me what happened, little by little.”

Blaine runs his hands along the sides of his hair and falls back on Sam’s bed, letting out a deep sigh and relays what happened: after Mr. and Mrs. Schuester’s nuptials, everyone had gone off to Breadstix, and he asked Kurt to stay because they had to talk. “I talked for a little bit, telling him what I told you before I nearly carted myself to Dalton, and I was so sure of myself. I was so sure that this would be the cincher, but his face—his face just fell and I lost a little bit of that positivity I had before I started, and I forgot everything else I said because right after I got down on one knee and asked, he looked at me and said no.

It was the worst kind of ‘no’ in the world,” he whispered. “Blunt and just…there—and then I ran for it.”

“I hate to say this dude, but…”

“’I told you so,’” Blaine grumbles.

“I’m telling you, dude: you and Kurt have to talk. You’re my best friend, so I’m just gonna be straight up with you: no more of this sitting around shit. You’ve got to focus and be—what was that you were telling me the other day?”

“—Introspective?” Blaine supplies dully.

“Yeah, that! You need to be that, dude, and think this through. Kurt’s clearly not ready, hell, you’re not ready. And together, two people who aren’t ready for this kind of commitment shouldn’t get married. You saw what happened to Finn and Rachel last year. You watched as Brittany dumped me through text in front of everyone in the Glee Club,” Sam says.

Blaine merely nods.

“Dude, you’ve got to not only do things on your terms. You’ve got to hear his side at some point or the other and not rush into this kind of stuff. I mean, you did want to tap this just a few weeks ago,” Sam laughs, gesturing to his abs. Blaine laughs and throws a pillow at him.

“Not.”

“Yeah-huh!”

-----

It’s nearly one A.M. when Blaine hears the little rock bang against his window. He rubs his sleepy eyes and sits up, hair sticking up on end. “What the…” he mutters hoarsely. He plops back onto his bed, but as his head hits the pillow, he hears a slight creak, and a more substantial tapping noise and he nearly jumps out of bed when he sees a silhouette reflected into his room. Turning to the window, he sees—

“Kurt?” he whispers, and it is Kurt smiling sheepishly at him and waving at him outside his second floor window. He hurries over and pulls it open and Kurt steps in over the ledge and into Blaine’s room.

“Hi,” Kurt says breathlessly.

It wasn’t the fact that Kurt climbed up to his window late at night that bothered him—he’d done that a lot on nights he couldn’t sleep when they were still together—it was the fact that after everything that happened that night, he just couldn’t believe it.

“What are you doing here?” Blaine manages to say after a few seconds.

“I couldn’t sleep, honestly,” Kurt replies quietly. “And I needed to talk to you. Thought I'd get this over with.”

“Couldn’t this have waited until tomorrow—?”

“No.”

“Well, alright, then, ask me or tell me if it’s so important,” Blaine says, folding his arms.

Kurt rolls his eyes and after a moment, he asks quietly: “Blaine, why did you propose to me earlier?”

Blaine shifts uncomfortably and sits down at the edge of his bed. “You’re going to think I’m crazy.”

Kurt remains where he stands and stares at him. “Blaine.”

He sighs and fiddles with his fingers. "I thought--I thought me...proposing to you would...uh, get us back together."

To Blaine's surprise, Kurt doesn't flinch uncomfortably or make a sound. Instead, he makes his way over to the bed and sits on the edge with Blaine, and takes his hand, looking right in his eyes.

"Well, pardon me being blunt, but that took, well, balls, to do that," he says with a chuckle. "But...I still stand by my answer earlier, B. I can't...I can't. I'm not ready for that, yet, and neither are you. We'd end up being one of those couples that end up on that Divorce Court show, and fight over the ownership of our only copy of Roman Holiday--"

"--No we wouldn't--" Blaine snorts, chuckling.

"--Yes, we would," Kurt says, cutting him off. "And you know that. We...we aren't even together, Blaine. You know I'm seeing someone in New York, and then there was your crush on Sam--"

"--Which is nonexistent as of now."

"But those lips," Kurt says, pretending to swoon.

"Those lips," Blaine nods, smiling sadly.

"And because of that, we clearly aren't in a state where we should get married."

There's a strangely comfortable, pregnant pause between them.

"You're right," Blaine finally says. "You really are right. I've been...very...forward lately, I have to admit, and I'm really, really sorry."

"And I'm sorry for just letting you run off earlier and waking you up just now. I probably should have waited until tomorrow to talk to you, but I really couldn't sleep."

It's nice, Blaine thinks, talking. It's better, so much better, than just holding everything in and letting it explode all in one go--and he missed this. Just sitting and just expressing everything he wants to say with Kurt--feeling the proverbial weight on his chest slowly flitting away.

"So what should we do now?" he asks, the question coming out both nervous and curious.

Now Kurt's the one twiddling with his fingers and biting his lower lip. Blaine knows this face. It's the face that practically screams I-shouldn't-say-what-I'm-going-to-say-but-I'm-say-it-anyway.

"I think we need time apart. You know, to think about all of this and see where we stand with everything. Until, you know, school starts--then we can maybe try if everything is okay."

It doesn't hit Blaine as hard as it should've. "So...no talking?"

"Nothing. No hooking up or anything of the sort, too. But--but I'm planning to go see your NYADA audition, so maybe we can wait until then to start this?" Kurt asks quietly. 

"No," Blaine says to Kurt's surprise. "You're right. We need to stop and think for a while and it should start tomorrow. You need to know where you stand with Adam and get to class, and I just...I need to pretty much get ready for college first before anything."

The two of them smile at each other. It's not a happy smile, Blaine notices, but at least it's something.

Kurt stands up. "So...so I'll see you in the Fall?"

"If I get in, of course," Blaine says with a chuckle. As Kurt moves back towards the window, he asks, before he can stop himself--"Kurt?"

"Yeah?"

"Stay for the night? No funny business, just...just be my, uh, big spoon at least one more time? It would be...um, nice, and we always did this whenever you came over, and I know it's presumptuous of me to ask, but--"

"Of course," Kurt replies, his expression softening. He takes off his boots and sets them aside and crawls into bed with Blaine, wrapping his arms around his waist and pulling him close, snuggling his face in the crook of Blaine's neck.

It feels like old times, but yet, this time, there are so many unanswered feelings and questions looming over their heads.

However, Blaine hopes they'll be answered and remedied in the months to come.

"Did you love me when we hooked up on Valentine's Day?" Blaine whispered.

After a moment, Kurt murmurs back: "Yeah. Always have."

"I'm sorry again, Kurt. I really am."

"I know."

When he wakes up the next morning, Kurt is gone and there is nothing but a note on his pillow.

Break a leg at your NYADA audition.

All my love,

Kurt