Too in Love to Let it Go, Chapter 14
Title: Too in Love to Let it Go
Author: gingerandfair/lavender_love00
Genre: AU/Married!Klaine/future-fic
Rating: NC-17
Word count: 5500/200,000
Spoilers: none
Chapter summary: In which Kurt and Blaine try to muddle through, and decide to read Abby's letter.
Prologue (LJ/AO3/Tumblr/S&C) - Chapter 1 (LJ/AO3/Tumblr/S&C) - Chapter 2 (LJ/AO3/Tumblr/S&C) - Chapter 3 ( LJ/AO3/Tumblr/S&C) - Chapter 4 ( LJ/AO3/Tumblr/S&C) - Chapter 5 ( LJ/AO3/Tumblr/S&C) - Chapter 6 ( LJ/AO3/Tumblr/S&C) - Chapter 7 ( LJ/AO3/Tumblr/S&C) - Chapter 8 (LJ/AO3/Tumblr/S&C) Chapter 9 (LJ/AO3/Tumblr/S&C) - Chapter 10 (LJ/AO3/Tumblr/S&C) - Chapter 11 ( LJ/AO3/Tumblr/S&C) - Chapter 12 ( LJ/AO3/Tumblr/S&C) - Chapter 13 ( LJ/AO3/Tumblr/S&C)
Read Chapter 14 on AO3/Tumblr/S&C
Chapter 14
Thursday, July 6th, 2023
"Blaine, we have to get up."
Blaine rolled over, poking his head out from under the sheet. "Why?"
"Because we're rotting. Because Romeo's pee pads are stinking up the condo. Because everybody's worried about us. Because we can't spend the rest of our lives in bed. And because - being miserable is kind of boring."
"Fine. You get up then, if you're so bored," Blaine snapped angrily.
"Come on - you don't think a shower might make you feel better?" Kurt asked. "I feel filthy."
"We are filthy, Kurt. But I'm more than happy to lie in my own filth right now. We should be singing to our baby. We should be complaining about how tired we are and fighting over her clothing budget and watching her sleep. But we're not, are we? So no, I don't think that taking a shower is going to make me feel any better." Blaine rolled back over and pulled the pillow over his head, letting his arm flop back down to the mattress.
Kurt sighed and bent to kiss Blaine's exposed shoulder, then dragged himself to a sitting position, lights prickling in the back of his eyes, his vision going funny for a moment. He slid his feet carefully to the floor, the hardwoods cold against his skin, and steadied himself before pushing up off the nightstand. He wobbled only once before making his way to the bathroom, casting a worried look over his shoulder at the lump that Blaine made under the sheet.
* * *
"Blaine? Blaine, come on -"
Blaine glared up at his husband, whose hair was dripping cold droplets of water on his face. "What?"
Kurt smiled softly, running his hand over Blaine's greasy curls. "You know I love you, honey, but now that I'm clean, you smell even worse. Please take a shower for me?"
"Will you get off my case if I do?" Blaine asked grumpily.
"I swear," Kurt answered. "I'll even strip the bed and put a clean set of sheets on it while you're in the bathroom."
"Fine, but only if you promise to eat something."
Kurt sighed. "Deal."
* * *
Kurt was opening a pack of saltine crackers when Blaine came into the kitchen, towel drying his hair.
"See?" he asked, holding up the box. "Food."
"I'm not sure if saltines can be considered a meal, but I'm glad you're eating something," Blaine said, plopping down on a barstool. He looked weary, and Kurt was worried. Blaine hadn't done enough to look that tired. "I was thinking about Vi in the shower. It's almost like she's dead, but - worse, in a way."
Kurt looked up warily from his crackers. If Blaine was taking this in the direction Kurt thought he was taking it …
"Like, when somebody dies," Blaine continued, "You stay busy afterward. You have a funeral to plan, and arrangements to make. We don't have anything. We don't get closure. We don't get anything."
"Blaine, she isn't dead," Kurt said.
"No, but she might as well be."
Kurt felt his face flaring red with anger. "Don't you dare say that. You have no idea what you're talking about."
Blaine shrugged. "I'm just saying. That's how it feels."
"We didn't bury her, Blaine," Kurt said, getting angrier. "She's not in the ground. She's still alive and breathing - it's not the same."
"It feels the same, Kurt - when my aunt died -"
"Yeah, yeah, I know, you stayed in bed for a fucking week, you were practically comatose," Kurt snapped, not particularly caring how Blaine was feeling at the moment. "But you aren't the only one who's lost someone here - my mother died. When I was eight."
"Yeah, I'm aware. But it's like you think that because you lost her before I lost Aunt Lisa, you get to be the authority on death, and how to deal with it. You always try to make our lives a damn competition over who's been hurt more, and it's not fair! At least the family you have left loves you," Blaine said, his hands shaking. "Your mom fought tooth-and-nail through chemo to stay with you. My mom? When I came to her at fourteen, scared out of my mind, and told her I thought I was gay? She smacked me across the cheek and told me never to mention it again, especially not in front of my dad. It was like I didn't even have a mom after that, you know that."
"And you're accusing me of making our lives a competition?" Kurt demanded, blinking back hot, angry tears. "Well hello, pot, I'm kettle. Oh, look - we're both black." He took a deep breath and looked down, fingers tracing over the rough edge of the granite countertop, guilt swirling heavy and dark in his gut. He remembered what his dad had told him the week before about patience, about potentially hatingthe way Blaine might deal with things, and it made him nauseated, realizing that his dad hadn't been wrong. "I - I'm sorry. I hate acting like this; I hate fighting with you. We've never acted like this before."
"Well how the fuck are we supposed to act? I don't know what the fuck I'm doing anymore. I feel dead inside. But if it would make you happier," Blaine spat angrily, "I could play the dapper Dalton man again, just like my dad always wanted. Smear some gel in my hair, pull my tie so tight I can barely breathe - do you want me to wear that mask again? Do you miss that confidence, Kurt, even though it was a lie? Because I can try my hand at acting again -"
Kurt felt like smacking Blaine across the cheek himself. "No. No, of course not. I'm not saying I want you to act some other way, and I never want you to hide behind a crest again - I'm just saying I don't know. I hate this. I hate feeling angry. I hate that I haven't been hungry in a week. I hate staying in bed all day, feeling miserable -"
"Fine, then, let's get up! Let's go run a marathon, Kurt, let's volunteer at a fucking soup kitchen or a children's hospital, because that will make it all better - just drag me out of bed wherever you want me to go, 'cause apparently my lazy ass is - what did you say, Kurt, boring you? Making you miserable?"
"You're twisting my words and you know it, Blaine!" Kurt exclaimed, letting out a strangled cry of frustration. "I just think we'd both feel better if -"
"Shut up!" Blaine roared, swinging his hands down on the countertop so hard that the salt and pepper shakers jumped. "You don't get to decide what does or doesn't make me feel better, you don't -" He cut himself off when he looked up, breathing heavily with the effort of shouting. "Shit, Kurt -"
Kurt was terrified. Not that Blaine would hit him - Blaine would never hit him - but that Blaine was so out of control, so far gone from his normal calm, collected self that Kurt hardly even recognized the man standing in front of him. He backed away, his arms wrapped tight around his torso as if somehow that would hold him together. "Never," he whispered, his voice shaking, "in thirteen years have you ever told me to shut up and meant it."
"I know." Blaine's voice broke. "God, I - I'm sorry -"
"I can't even remember the last time you yelled at me like that," Kurt continued, his voice a little stronger. "I don't know if you've ever yelled at me like that."
"I know. I'm sorry - I didn't mean to yell, baby. I just - I don't know how -"
“I need to take a walk, I think,” Kurt said. The condo, a home bigger than they'd ever dreamed of having, felt like it was closing in on him.
He walked to the front door and slammed it behind him, leaving his open pack of crackers on the counter, untouched. Blaine didn't voice a word of protest as he left.
Kurt ran down the steps, taking two and three at a time, and burst out the door. The sunlight nearly blinded him after being inside with the lights off for three days in a row, and he paused, blinking the tears away, happy to be able to breathe again.
Kurt wasn't ready to think about Blaine, so he thought of his mother instead as he walked down the sidewalk, losing himself in the bustle of pedestrians. Most of his memories of her were really stories passed to him by his dad, but there were a few things that he knew were real. He could still hear her voice any time he heard a Beatles song - if he closed his eyes, he could see her, clear green eyes shining as she sang "Here Comes the Sun" while he sat on the piano bench beside her. And when he was sick, especially, tucked into bed with blankets around his chin, he thought he could remember the feeling of her soft chestnut hair against his cheek before it all fell out, just one more thing taken by the medication that couldn't save her life.
He missed her so much - he hadn't felt the ache this deep since he was in high school, since before he met Blaine. He wished he'd gone home with his dad and Carole - at least he'd have been able to visit her grave that way.
He plopped down on a park bench - he must've walked into Tompkins Square Park without even realizing it - and looked around him. A slight breeze blew through the leaves above him, making them rustle quietly, and birds in the tree whistled in response. A deep ache shot through him, starting in his heart and pumping down his arteries all the way through long, graceful fingers and the tips of his toes.
"Blackbird, fly," he half-murmured, half-sang under his breath, then leaned forward, rested his head in his hands, and prayed to his mother for grace.
He pictured her listening attentively while sitting on the ground in front of him, floral skirt spread and Kelly green cable knit making her eyes flash, eternally young and flawless at 33. The exact way he remembered her on the day of the picnic when she'd brought out plastic champagne flutes, sparkling white grape juice and strawberries. It was the day before she found out she was sick.
She never talked back to him, now - he had no idea what she'd say to him - but every time he came to her like this, she rose from her spot, placed a hand on his cheek, and kissed the top of his head like she'd done when he was small before walking away and leaving him with a bit of her warmth.
It was ludicrous, talking to an image that didn't exist, his head tingling for minutes afterward when there was nothing there. Kurt wasn't hallucinating - he knew she wasn't real, but like in most fairy tales, he could wish her into existence if he just wished hard enough, and like most fairy godmothers, she always found a way to make it better.
He hoped, as he stood and walked away from the bench, that he could find a way to wish Blaine back into existence, to make him better as well.
* * *
Blaine was sitting at the piano playing with his eyes closed when Kurt got home an hour later. He silently toed off his shoes as he listened and nodded to himself, warm with the knowledge that there were many ways to pray.
The floor squeaked as he tiptoed into the room and Blaine looked up, eyes wide with something that looked like relief. He took his hands off the keys, but Kurt stopped him, holding up a hand. "No. Finish. It's pretty."
Kurt settled beside him on the piano bench as he finished the song, closing his eyes and getting lost in the music. He didn't open them again until Blaine spoke.
"I was a little worried that you weren't coming back," Blaine confessed softly, looking down at the piano keys, shiny in the afternoon sun. "I - Kurt, I'm sorry -"
"Oh, Blaine - how many times have I promised that I'll never say goodbye to you?" Kurt asked, his hands instinctively moving to Blaine's back, rubbing comfort into his skin. "I don't think I could leave you even if I tried. My body - I - nothing feels right when you're not there," he stammered, trying to explain.
Blaine nodded, turned his head, and buried his face in Kurt's shoulder.
"I'm so sorry," he repeated, his voice a little muffled. "I shouldn't have - I'm so sorry I yelled, Kurt. I can't believe I told you to shut up. I can't believe I compared this to Violet dying. I - I'm such a moron -"
"Shhh, no," Kurt whispered. "I had a talk with my mom," he murmured into Blaine's curls. "While I was sitting in the park."
"Oh?" Blaine asked. He sat up and carefully met Kurt's gaze, and his eyes slowly warmed to the color of sourwood honey. Kurt could drown in them if he wasn't careful.
"I told her that I felt like we were breaking. I told her how mad I was at you, how badly this all hurts - how I don't know if I can survive it."
"Did it help?" Blaine asked.
"It always helps," Kurt answered. "But then I realized, if we keep this up - I won't just be losing Violet, I'll be losing you, too. My mom - she would want me to be patient with you. She was so patient, Blaine. She would never have walked out. I wish I was more like her …"
"You are like her," Blaine said. "You have her goodness, right here." Kurt's heart thumped under the pressure of Blaine's hand, firm on his chest. "Burt tells me all the time."
Kurt closed his hand over Blaine's. His husband was wrong, as was his dad, but if the men in his life wanted to believe a lie too beautiful to be true, who was he to argue? He suddenly felt very, very small under the memory of his mother, immortalized and perfect. "Tell me we're going to be okay."
Blaine paused, too long. "I - I can't, Kurt. I don't know."
Kurt nodded slowly. "This is the kind of thing that burns people up from the inside out, isn't it?"
"God, it feels like it."
"I'm not ready to burn, Blaine," Kurt whispered.
"Then let's go hide from the fire in the bathtub for a while," Blaine said, his fingers tracing along the outline of Kurt's cheek and jaw. Kurt leaned into his touch like a cat begging to be petted again.
"Okay," Kurt whispered again, content to let Blaine be the strong one for the moment. Marriage, he'd learned over the past six years, was a refined practice of ebb and flow, push and pull, give and take. He wasn't going to complain if Blaine wanted to do the giving for the moment.
As Kurt leaned against the bathroom sink, Blaine tested the temperature of the water and undid buttons with deft fingers and pulled the jasmine bath bomb off the shelf without Kurt even having to ask. They climbed into the tub together and settled in the water - there was a moment of limbs gone wild, legs and feet slipping over the edge, splashing water to the floor until Kurt leaned back against Blaine and Blaine tucked his thighs around Kurt's hips and they slotted together like a two-piece puzzle.
Kurt hoped, as the water lapped at his chest, that if they could just remember those pieces, the ebb and the flow and the giving, maybe they could conquer the fires of hell together instead of burning apart. Maybe they'd end up like the story of the Burning Bush from the Bible - set aflame, but not consumed by the fire. Or maybe like a phoenix, burned and charred but reborn from the ashes. Either way, he was determined to make it out on the other side, and he'd drag Blaine kicking and screaming if he had to.
* * *
Blaine gasped as he roused, uncomfortable and cold and disoriented, curled around Kurt's body. "Whazzat?" he mumbled, wiping his fingers over his eyes, then rapidly blinked as water flooded them. "Shit," he muttered, sloshing water over the side of the tub as he reached for a towel, slowly getting his bearings.
He shifted, trying to reach just a little farther, which caused Kurt to slip deeper into the water. He slung an arm around Kurt's torso just before his head sunk under, effectively waking him with a start. There was a moment of frenzy, cold water splashing everywhere as Kurt nearly clocked Blaine in the face as he grabbed for the side of the tub.
"Oh my god," Kurt gasped once he was righted, "What the hell?"
"I think we fell asleep in here," Blaine groaned, stretching stiff limbs. "God, I am a prune."
"So am I," Kurt said miserably, looking at his wrinkled hands as he shivered. "I'm so cold - how long do you think it takes a person to get hypothermia?"
"Let's not wait long enough to find out." Blaine's teeth chattered as he pulled himself from the cold water and threw a towel to Kurt.
As Kurt was drying off, Blaine tugged on a pair of pajama pants. "Come in the living room when you're dressed!" he called, grabbing a fleece blanket from the basket beside an end table. Seconds later, Kurt trotted down the hall, throwing himself on the couch beside Blaine, and whistled for Romeo.
"There," Kurt said, still shivering as the puppy hopped into his arms, "We've got body heat, blanket heat, and puppy heat - that should do it, right?"
"God, I hope so," Blaine said, tugging him closer. "Remind me never to fall asleep in a tub ever again." He was freezing - his nose and his toes and the tips of his fingers felt like ice cubes in spite of the blazing heat outside. And there was an idea - maybe they could go outside, but Kurt was warm and cozy and the blanket was so soft, and -
"How long were we in there, anyway? What time is it?"
Blaine glanced up at the clock, rubbing his feet together to try to get the circulation moving. "It's seven - we were asleep for almost two and a half hours. No wonder we're cold."
"I can't believe we just fell asleep in a bathtub," Kurt grumbled, shifting next to Blaine.
"I'm not. It was a nice bath."
"I guess we might as well do something productive with our time while we're warming up."
"What, like rewatch Cycle Two of America's Next Top Model?" Blaine asked with a small smile. "I know you love Yoanna."
His smile faded when Kurt looked up at him seriously. "I think we should read Abby's letter."
Blaine sucked in a breath of air. "Kurt, no. I'm not ready. I don't - do we have to ruin the night? We've already fought once today, I -"
"Blaine," Kurt said gently, "I really think we should get it over with. It's been hanging over my head for days now."
"But -"
"Please?" Kurt asked, his eyes wide and vulnerable.
Blaine's heart sank and melted as he looked into Kurt's eyes, blue like the sky and the sea and precious gemstones. "That's not fair, Kurt, you know I can't ever resist you when you look at me like that -"
"Please, Blaine?" Kurt repeated.
"Fine," he said with a sigh, leaning his head back against the arm of the couch and staring up at the ceiling. Sometimes it was easier to give in than put up a fight, he decided that it wasn't worth the conflict.
"I'll be right back."
Blaine felt the cushion dip and spring back as Kurt climbed out from under the blanket, and he rolled over and pulled their squirmy puppy close. Romeo whined in the confinement of Blaine's arms, and Blaine finally let him go. He ran to Kurt, who was just entering the room again.
"It's written on pink stationary," Kurt said viciously as he made his way back toward the couch, tearing the envelope open, Romeo at his heels. "What a child."
"Are you sure you want to do this?" Blaine asked as Kurt tucked himself on the other side of the couch, stretching the blanket taut to cover both of them and sliding his socked feet up Blaine's calves. Romeo jumped up and lay down on Kurt's chest.
"We've got to read it sometime," Kurt said, petting the puppy.
"We actually don't have to read it," Blaine said, but Kurt didn't listen.
He took a deep breath, then laughed out loud. "Oh, God, drama already - she left tear marks on this paper, Blaine. She got everything she wanted - what the hell did she have to cry about?"
Blaine just shook his head.
"Dear Blaine and Kurt," Kurt read. The paper shook in his hands a bit. "I hardly know how to begin a letter like this …"
I know you've got to be angry with me for doing this to you. I'm sorry - I really, really am, but not sorry enough to take back what I decided. My mistake wasn't wanting to be Violet's mom - it was not telling you about it sooner. I've been having doubts about the adoption for a long time now, and I convinced myself it was all going to be okay. Obviously it wasn't.
I'm sorry for what you must be feeling right now, but I can promise you that it's only a fraction of the pain that I was in after you took Violet home with you. I felt raw, sick, like a piece of my body had been ripped off, the wound left gaping open. It hurts. I know. And I'm sorry for stringing you along for so long that you're feeling kind of like that, too.
Blaine continued to stare at the ceiling as Kurt read. The ball of grief that hadn't ever left the pit of his stomach was fast turning to angry stone, bitter and hard and unyielding. He clenched the blanket in his fists as Kurt continued.
I don't want you to worry about her. I'm her mom - I love her more than anybody in this world could ever love her. There's no way she's ever going to want for anything. My family is supportive, and so is Micah, even though his family isn't, and she's going to have a lot of people around her who love her.
I'd like two of those people to be you.
Blaine's head snapped up. "What?"
Kurt's eyes narrowed as he read down the page. "Oh, fuck you," he murmured before starting to read again.
I'd like to offer you the same courtesy that you offered me - I'll send pictures of her if you want, and you can come visit her, see how she grows. I know I sort of took her from you without warning, and I don't know if you had time to say a proper goodbye or anything, so anytime you want to see her, that's okay with me. It's not you guys I have a problem with - I just need to be the one raising her.
Blaine's heart was hammering an angry thud-thud-thud in his chest as he listened to Kurt's voice read the vile words.
I hope that you can find it in your hearts to forgive me. I carried her inside me for almost forty weeks, and the day she was born, she stared into my eyes and it was a connection like I never even imagined. I just can't be apart from her - I don't care what that means for my plans to be a doctor or college or anything at all - I just want to be her mom. That's all. And I'm so sorry I hurt you in the process.
Let me know when you want pictures or if you want to see her.
I'm sorry again.
-Abby
The silence in the room crushed them as Abby's apology hung over them in the air. Blaine lay on the couch, trying to decide if it would be better to just give up, to never move from that spot again, or to rage and throw things and try to get his anger out. He was still waffling when Kurt finally spoke.
"Part of me wants to kill her. Like, in an actual crazy-person, go-to-prison sort of way."
"Kurt -"
"But that wouldn't help, because then Violet wouldn't have any sort of parents to speak of at all - but maybe they'd let you raise her? And we could have conjugal visits?"
Blaine propped himself up on his elbows so he could look at his husband. "Kurt, I don't think -"
"And then part of me feels almost sorry for her, like she's just this stupid eighteen-year-old, but honestly, Blaine, who writes a letter like that?"
Blaine shrugged. "Apparently -"
"But mostly," Kurt barreled on, "I just - I want her back, Blaine. I want my baby here -"
Blaine sat up the rest of the way and pulled Kurt closer, cradling him as he started to cry.
"I want her back," Kurt sniffled, "and this is just like a slap in the face - Blaine, say something. You're not saying anything."
Blaine felt the angry ball in his stomach soften - only for Kurt, always for Kurt. "Maybe that's because you're not letting me," he said gently.
Kurt looked up, sheepish. "Oh."
"Oh," Blaine agreed. "Look, I'm not sure what you want me to say. I didn't want to read it. I wish we hadn't read it. I - I'm pissed. I'm fucking pissed off, Kurt, and I'm afraid that I'm never going to be able to feel anything else again -"
"Then feel this," Kurt said, his voice still shaky. He reached for Blaine's hand and Blaine let him take it, placing it on the left side of his chest. Blaine could feel the familiar toned muscle underneath his shirt, and under that, Kurt's heart beating beneath his ribcage. "For five days, my heart beat for her - but just because she's gone, I swear it's not going to stop beating for you."
* * *
"What if we took her up on the offer?" Blaine asked a few hours later, his head pillowed in Kurt's lap.
Kurt tore his gaze from their TV screen, where Ellen Page was building a city in her dreams, and narrowed his eyes at Blaine.
"I'm just saying - maybe it would be easier. Being able to see her. Don't you want to see her again, Kurt?"
"Not like that, I don't!" he exclaimed. "Not at the whims of an 18-year-old who's already proven to be flippant and untrustworthy!"
"I just -"
"Blaine," Kurt said firmly, "I want a daughter or a son. Not a niece, not a goddaughter, not a sweet little acquaintance that I see on holidays and in photographs. If Violet's going to be in our lives, we're going to raise her, all or nothing. And I know that's what you want too."
Blaine sighed and pressed his face to Kurt's stomach. "You're right. Of course I want a child of our own. You - I just -"
"I know, honey. You want her."
* * *
"Maybe you were right," Kurt said, pacing restlessly around their bedroom. "Maybe it would be easier if we could see her."
"Kurt, no -"
"Maybe - do you think we'll ever get the chance to adopt again?"
"I don't know if I ever want the chance to adopt again," Blaine sighed, fanning his arms and legs out so he was nearly covering the entire bed. "I can't do this a second time, Kurt."
"Well maybe this is our only chance at being a part of a child's life, then. Maybe - I don't know, we could be like the cool uncles or something."
Blaine lifted his head. "Cool uncles? Really?"
"Yeah, I don't know, we could - take her shopping when she gets older? Keep her when Abby wants to go on vacation?"
"You just told me you didn't want a niece," Blaine said, sitting up all the way and grabbing Kurt's hand as he walked past, stilling him. "We were supposed to be her parents, Kurt."
Kurt sighed and flopped down on the bed beside Blaine. "And you don't think that this might be the universe telling us that we're not cut out to be parents?"
"Don't," Blaine said harshly, tugging his husband close. "Don't you dare - I watched you as a dad for almost a week, Kurt, and you were better than I even dreamed - I don't know what this is, or what it means, but it doesn't mean that."
Kurt let his back rest against Blaine's chest and leaned his head on Blaine's shoulder, and Blaine tucked his chin down next to Kurt's face. "We'll never be satisfied with what Abby wants to offer," he murmured softly.
"Will we ever be satisfied with anything that isn't Violet again?"
Blaine sighed. "I don’t think there's an answer to that yet."
* * *
"I can't sleep," Blaine grumbled, turning over for the hundredth time that night.
"So I've gathered." A pause. "I can't sleep either."
"I'm so mad."
"I know," Kurt said gently.
"Do you?" Blaine fumed. "Because you seem so calm, Kurt, about all of this. And I'm like - like, this ball of fury - I feel like I'm going to explode about every other minute -"
"I'm only calm on the outside," Kurt said quietly. "I'm sure I'll combust at some point or another."
Blaine laughed dryly. "We're just a couple of time bombs, aren't we?"
"Maybe we should warn our neighbors, in case one of us blows while they're at home …" Kurt trailed off. "I was trying to be funny," he explained a moment later, "but I guess it's not, is it?"
"I don't think so."
The room fell silent for a long moment. Normally a noisy afterthought, the night sounds outside their window - the occasional siren, the whoosh of passing cars, a dog a few floors up barking loudly - swelled into a distracting cacophony.
"Let's go to the gym tomorrow," Kurt finally piped up when the sounds became too much. "You can punch things, and a little time on the treadmill would probably do me good, too."
"You have to eat, then," Blaine said, rolling to his side, his tone turning soft. His worry for Kurt overpowered his rage for everything else. "I can't have you passing out on me."
"Okay, okay, I'll eat."
"Good. You promise?"
"Cross my heart. Breakfast, in the morning."
Blaine wiggled to his back, held Kurt's hand between them, and closed his eyes.
"Blaine?" Kurt's whisper came a few moments later.
"Mmm?"
"Part of the reason I can't sleep is I'm always waiting for her to cry out."
Tears that Blaine thought surely had dried up by then prickled behind his eyelids. "Yeah, me too."
"Do you think she's sleeping now?"
"She's probably just waking up for her three A.M. feeding," Blaine said, trying to keep his voice steady as he squeezed Kurt's hand tighter. "God, I hope Abby hears her - she always eats better if you catch her before she starts screaming …"
"I miss her so much," Kurt whimpered, rolling over to bury his face in Blaine's chest.
Blaine rubbed gentle circles into Kurt's scalp with his fingertips, choking back his own tears. "I know, I know, I do too."
Chapter 15