❝ 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.
pianokeysandbowties 