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6x07 Reaction Fic

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Blaine’s insides shrivel impossibly further at the sight of Sam and Rachel hurrying into the choir room. He asks where they’re going, already well aware what the answer will be and hating how irrationally left out he feels. They think he has Dave and an apartment to go home to. They don’t know that he’s just let the love of his life go once more. They don’t know that he just had his heart squashed into pieces over a stupid false hope.

Walter and I have a shared love for musical flops.

And Walter and I have this mutual love for the delicious chicken dipping balls they’ve got at Breadstix.

Everyone has something in common—one big happy family—and here Blaine is alone once again. And, as per usual, it is his own damn fault. Why did he always ruin everything? He ruined him and Kurt, he ruined him and Dave, hell he even pushed his own father away.

He shrugs at Kurt’s suggestion of a triple date next time, unable to form words, and murmurs something pathetic about forgetting what he was going to say, forcing himself to keep the tears at bay. Kurt lingers for a fraction of a second longer and Blaine’s heart freezes, clings onto the last hope that Kurt will realise—but then he leaves, too, and Blaine is left alone in a classroom that suddenly seems far too big.

He can’t face packing up his stuff from the apartment, not yet, so he heads back to his car and cries just enough to tide him over until he gets to his parents’ house. He refuses to be the cliché that breaks down in the parking lot—he’ll do it when he’s in his darkened room, alone. You’re always alone, he reminds himself, starting the car with a little more force than necessary.

His mom is thankfully out when he gets in; he doesn’t think he could take the worried inquisition right now. He honestly just wants to shower and collapse into bed forever. It’s not like anyone would miss his presence, not now.

It’s funny because he’d been so sure that Kurt would be waiting with open arms, that he’d engineered their duet to win Blaine back, that he still thought Blaine was worth fighting for. But clearly Blaine had misread the situation, or been too late, or maybe a combination of the two.

He showers slowly, washing the hardened gel out of his hair in practiced motions and letting the hot water beat against his face. He can’t wash away the tear tracks because each time he starts, fresh tears well up and spill downwards; he gives up and turns the water off instead. He dries himself off with his fluffiest towel and puts on his snuggliest pyjamas with the big buttons down the front, staring at his tired eyes in the mirror.

Brushing absently at the last of the tears, he opens the bathroom door and freezes. He’s not alone in his room. Someone is sat on his bed. Kurt is sat on his bed.

“Hi…” Kurt says quietly, and Blaine resists the urge to walk over and touch his face, check he isn’t a beautiful hallucination.

“Wh—How did you…?” Blaine stutters, towel dropping from his grip onto the floor. He doesn’t even care that he missed the laundry basket.

“Oh, I used the spare key—it was still under the hedgehog statue. I, uh, I hope that’s okay…?”

“Yeah, no, that’s…fine.” Blaine doesn’t know what else to say. How did Kurt even know he was back at his parents’ house?

“I went to look for you at your apartment. Dave told me what happened—how you guys broke up, I mean.” Kurt explains; Blaine always wondered whether Kurt could read his mind. 

“Oh. Did you want something?”

“No.” Kurt says, then tilts his head to the side. “Well, yes actually. You looked really off earlier and I couldn’t shake the feeling something was wrong. Are you okay?”

Blaine opens his mouth to say ‘yes’, an instinctual response after all these years, but suddenly that doesn’t seem right. He wants to say so much to Kurt—hell, he’d planned it all out when sprinting to the choir room earlier—but none of it seems enough anymore. He doesn’t even know where to start.

“I just—I don’t really—I guess I just—”

Kurt laughs softly and stands up. “I love you, too.”

“…What?”

Kurt walks over to him. “I love you, too, you moron. I cancelled on Walter because obviously he could never compare to you in a million years. I think I knew that all along, really. I just love you so much. Unless you were going to say something else in which case this is really awkward right now…”

Blaine freezes, mind unable to move past the first sentence. I love you, too. I love you, too. I love you, too.

“I love you.” Blaine says breathlessly, realising that Kurt has stopped rambling and he should probably actually say the words.

Kurt grins, and reaches down to intertwine their fingers, thumbs brushing over his knuckles. “I’m going to kiss you now, okay?”

“Definitely okay.” Blaine murmurs and then Kurt is kissing him, one hand letting go to caress Blaine’s cheek. Their bodies sag into each other, heavy with relief and the unbelievable reality of being home, and it’s not long before Kurt gently pushes him backwards onto the bed, lying next to him so that they’re touching all the way down. He continues to kiss him, passionate but not pushing for anything more. Not yet.

Kurt pulls back slightly, his cheeks adorably flushed in the dim light coming from Blaine’s lamp.

“I love you.” He says and presses another kiss to Blaine’s mouth, hand stroking through the now-curling hair at Blaine’s neck. 

“Stay here?” Blaine queries, a question that’s asking for so much more.

“Of course,” Kurt says, straightening Blaine’s pyjama top before resting his head there. “Always.”

Blaine grins like an idiot and squeezes Kurt to him.  

“I love you.” Kurt says again, voice stronger than before.

“I think you may have already mentioned that.” Blaine laughs, pressing a kiss into Kurt’s hair. God, he’s missed that smell so much.

“Hey!” Kurt protests, poking Blaine’s tummy and tightening his hold when Blaine tries to squirm away. “I’ll have you know that I have just been reunited with the love of my life—no, the love of my eternity—and I’m allowed to tell him I love him as much as I like.”

“Fiiiiine,” Blaine sighs, wriggling down until their eyes are on the same level. “If you insist.”

“I do.” Kurt smiles in contentment. “I really, really do.”

He then proceeds to kiss every centimetre of Blaine’s face and neck he can reach, even pushing his top aside to get at his collarbone, murmuring a soft ‘I love you’ after each one. Yes, they still have a lot to talk about and, yes, this is going to make things awkward with the whole show choir competition thing, but in this moment, Blaine can’t bring himself to care. He has his Kurt back—his Kurt who’s currently swearing to never let him go again— and he’s pretty sure the rest can wait.