Too in Love to Let it Go, Chapter 25
Author: gingerandfair/lavender_love00
Genre: AU/Married!Klaine/future-fic
Rating: NC-17
Word count: 6,000/200,000
Spoilers: none
Chapter summary: In which Niff share a fun morning before a painful goodbye, Kurt is comforted by Blaine and Blaine has his first therapy appointment.
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) - Chapter 14 ( LJ/AO3/Tumblr/S&C) - Chapter 15 on (LJ/AO3/Tumblr/S&C) - Chapter 16 on ( LJ/AO3/Tumblr/S&C) - Chapter 17 on ( LJ/AO3/Tumblr/S&C) - Chapter 18 on (LJ/AO3/Tumblr/S&C) - Chapter 19 on ( LJ/AO3/Tumblr/S&C) - Chapter 20 on ( LJ/AO3/Tumblr/S&C) - Chapter 21 on (LJ/AO3/Tumblr/S&C) - Chapter 22 on ( LJ/AO3/Tumblr/S&C) - Chapter 23 on ( LJ/AO3/Tumblr/S&C) - Chapter 24 on ( LJ/AO3/Tumblr/S&C)
Chapter 25 on AO3/Tumblr/S&C
Chapter 25
Monday, September 18, 2023
"I can't believe I have to leave you today."
Jeff lay in Nick's bed, warm and cozy under the covers, reaching over Nick to steal a sip of the chai tea latte that Nick had made himself that morning.
"Shhh, don't talk about that," Nick said. "I don't want to talk about that." He ducked under the covers, found one of Jeff's bare nipples and sucked on it. "Rather do this …"
Jeff gasped, nearly spilling the latte in the bed. "Nick!" he laughed, squirming underneath him.
Nick's head popped out from under the covers. "What?" he asked innocently. There was a twinkle in his eye that Jeff hadn't seen in years - he seemed so happy, and it was contagious, apparently, because Jeff felt like he could float.
"C'mere," Jeff said, setting Nick's latte on the bedside table and hauling him up for a kiss. "Mmmm, I could do this all day."
"I wish we could."
"Me too." Jeff stroked his fingers over Nick's face, still in awe that he was in bed with his best friend, still pinching himself because none of it could have been real. "Nick, last night - I just - you don't understand -"
"You keep saying that," Nick said thoughtfully, taking his hand and pressing a kiss to his palm. "But, believe it or not, I get it. I know you've been patient a lot longer than I have, and I can't tell you how glad I am that you waited me out, but - Jeff, I've never wanted anybody like I wanted you last night. Like I wanted you when you kissed me at the club …" Jeff's heart fluttered. "There was this ache in me, and after last night, I don't feel it anymore -"
"Oh my god, are you trying to kill me?" Jeff laughed happily, holding Nick's face between his hands and kissing him solidly on the lips. "What am I going to do in Chicago without you?"
"You're going to Skype with me every night," Nick said with a smile, "and you're going to go be amazing at work, and we're going to see each other again as soon as we can afford it, and then we're going to do this …" He stroked a hand over Jeff's already half-hard cock, making him shiver.
"What time is it? Do we have time -"
"We've got an hour and a half before we've got to have you packed, dressed, and out the door," Nick grinned. "So yeah, I think we have time for something …"
Jeff's heart ka-thunk, ka-thunked in his chest as he rolled over on top of Nick, peppering his chest and shoulders with kisses. It was like he was sixteen again, only a much, much better version of sixteen, with New York and kisses and sex, instead of Westerville and Warbler practice and homework. "God, this is fun," he said, bracing on an elbow so that he could grab Nick's lube from his nightstand.
"I know, I feel like a kid," Nick grinned, draping an arm across Jeff's ass. "But in a very adult sort of way …"
"Mmm," Jeff agreed. "So, there's this thing we could do -"
"Do it," Nick said without hesitation. "I'm all in."
Jeff laughed. "You don't even know what it is! It could be something totally weird - like what if I wanted to pee on you or something equally as gross?" He paused. "Unless you're into that …"
Nick laughed. "Not by a long shot. But - look, Jeff, it's not like I've never had sex before. I trust you. And no matter what we do, I know it'll be fantastic because I'll be doing it with you."
"You're doing that on purpose," Jeff said, throwing him a playful glare. "Stop being so sweet."
"Never," Nick murmured, pulling Jeff down into a searing kiss. "So … that thing we could do … what was it?"
"I'll show you." Jeff squeezed some lube into his hand, then dropped the weight of his hips on top of Nick's. Nick moaned as their cocks brushed together, and Jeff stared in awe as he grew harder, longer, thicker. "It's like a flower," he said softly.
"My dick?" Nick started laughing. "Now you're doing that on purpose."
Jeff rolled his eyes. "It is," he said, "stop laughing. I was just thinking of flowers blooming, and - oh, never mind." He slicked them both up, laughing softly at himself, then took them together in one hand. His fingers could barely hold their combined breadth.
"Oh, shit," Nick whispered as Jeff did one experimental drag up and down them both. "Fuck, this is going to be fun."
"Mm-hmm," Jeff grinned, sealing his mouth over Nick's as his hand began to move faster. He moaned as Nick's hands settled on his ass, massaging down deep into the muscles, pulling him closer as their hips rolled together into the circle of Jeff's fingers.
Their lazy kisses grew a little sloppier as time passed. The tension was building as their cocks slid back and forth against each other, and Jeff's hips were just starting to quicken when Nick tapped him on the shoulder.
"Can you - can we -"
"What?"
"That thing with your finger," Nick breathed. "That you did last night. Can you - I can do this part, can you just -"
"Oh," Jeff said, a smile spreading across his face. "You liked that?"
"Oh my god," Nick moaned. "I fucking loved it …"
"Here." Jeff grabbed the lube, making a total mess of it and the sheets as he squeezed some into Nick's open palm, then squeezed more onto his fingers. "You just do what I did, and I'll take care of you, okay?"
He tried to keep his breathing even as Nick's hand wrapped around their cocks. Nick's fingers were smoother than his own and his grip was firm as they began to move against each other again.
It was a slightly awkward angle, being on top of Nick, so Jeff rolled them over to the side, reaching around Nick's hip. As soon as he found the puckered ring of skin and rubbed over it gently, Nick gasped, his hips and hand speeding up.
"Oh, you do like this," Jeff said slyly.
Nick only grunted in reply.
Jeff drew his finger in the same small circles he'd done the night before, until Nick was writhing in his arms. He tried to ignore his own leaking cock - which was a little hard to do, as it felt like Nick was literally trying to pull his orgasm from his body - and leaned close to Nick's ear. "Do you want more?"
"God, yes," Nick moaned.
Jeff gently pressed his finger inside, inciting a moan from Nick that went straight to his own cock.
"Why, Nick," Jeff grinned, trying to control his breathing, "I think you might just be a bottom." He paused, slipping his finger in and out as Nick bucked, his hand flying over their cocks. "Which is nice," he murmured, "because I would really love to fuck you one day." And Jesus, it was true - Nick was smooth and warm around Jeff's finger, the starburst of a hole clenching rhythmically. He was so deliciously tight, and oh, Jeff wanted to do this, wanted to do more, for the rest of his life.
"Ohmygod," Nick babbled, forgoing his hand altogether to drive his cock up against Jeff's, fast and hard. He came with a shout, his eyes squeezed shut and fingers clenched, then his entire body instantly went slack as he fell back to the bed. "Ohhhh," he moaned, and Jeff covered his mouth in a hungry kiss.
"You are so hot," Jeff gasped. "I never imagined - Nick, when you come -"
Nick laughed beside him, a breathy, delightful noise, and Jeff wanted to make him sound like that forever. But it was clear that Nick was too boneless to do much; he was shaking in a post-orgasmic haze, and Jeff was so hard that it was getting painful.
"I'm sorry," he groaned as his hand found his leaking cock. "Do you mind -"
"'S okay," Nick said with a grin, sloppily kissing him again, "I wanna watch." Jeff moaned loudly as he stroked himself forcefully, desperate for relief. "Fuck," he heard Nick whisper as he came with a jolt a few seconds later, streaking across Nick's thigh.
"Shit," Jeff gasped, falling facedown into his pillow and trying to remember how to breathe.
"Damn, that was hot," Nick said, stroking his fingers through Jeff's hair
"Mmmm," Jeff mumbled into the pillow.
"Were you serious about that? Fucking me?" Nick asked curiously, coming up to lean on one elbow, still breathing hard.
Jeff turned to the side and nodded his head.
"Because - your finger - I just -"
"You liked it," he grinned.
"I've never - I've asked, just no girl has ever - they think it's weird," Nick said, blushing.
"I don't think it's weird. I think it was one of the hottest things I've ever seen," Jeff said. "God, the way you just fall apart …"
"Stop - stop it, or I'll want to do more, and you'll miss your flight," Nick laughed. He threw his arms behind his head, lounging on the bed. "God, I love this."
Jeff beamed at him. I love you, he thought silently. "I love it too. But - you're right, I've got to go." He looked down at them, come-streaked and sweaty, with lube drying sticky on both their cocks. "We're kind of disgusting. Do you maybe want to shower with me?"
"I would love to shower with you." Nick gazed at him. "You're the best thing that ever happened to me, you know that?"
Jeff laughed. "Oh my god, stop! You're not allowed to be that sappy when we're in a hurry - it makes me want to do things to you."
"And why would I not want that?"
"Nick. Shower. Go!"
They laughed their way into the bathroom, stealing kisses and glances and touches. And if Jeff got on his knees in the shower to suck Nick off until he fell against the wall, and if Nick propped himself back up long enough to get Jeff off with his hand again, and if Jeff had to run all the way to his gate once he got through security at the airport, well, no one would ever need to know.
* * *
Wednesday, September 20th, 2023
"Kurt. Drink your smoothie."
"I can't," Kurt groaned. "Rachel, I should be there."
It was the first day of Fashion Week, and Kurt was sitting at his kitchen table, still in his pajamas, not eating the smoothie Rachel made him as the Today Show played as background noise in the living room. "I can't believe this. He's going to fire me, I'm not going to have a job by the time this is over, I'm going to be broke and Blaine's not writing and we'll lose our home and we won't be able to afford our therapy and - Rachel, what am I going to do?"
"Calm down, and just drink this." Rachel slid the smoothie in front of Kurt for the fifth time that morning.
"Calm down? I could be giving up the career that I've worked my entire life for because I can't fucking deal and you want me to calm down? God, you know, I should just go. Better late than never, right? I - I know what all the models are wearing, hell, I picked half of them, I just need to change clothes and leave now -"
"You will do no such thing," Rachel said firmly, grabbing onto Kurt's shoulders and pushing him back into the chair as he tried to stand. "You're going to stay here, and you're going to drink your smoothie, and you're going to calm. Down."
"I can't." Kurt held up his hands, feeling completely helpless. "I can't, Rach - I can't do any of it." Tears began to sting his eyes. "I can't work, I can't eat, I drove my husband out of his own house - God, look at me, I'm sitting here wasting my life -"
He folded his arms on the table and let his head drop down with a thunk. Wasting his life was exactly what he was doing, and he was doing it over a stupid nervous breakdown and his stupid ongoing fight with Blaine. The Kurt he used to be would never have broken like that. He used to be stronger than this. Not anymore.
"Kurt -" he heard Rachel sigh. "Your smoothie will be in the fridge if you want it. I'm calling your boss, and letting him tell you personally that he doesn't expect you to be there -"
"No!" he exclaimed, jerking his head up. "Don’t call him, he already thinks I'm unstable enough as it is-"
"Fine, then. I'm calling Blaine."
Kurt blinked at her. "I thought you were mad at him."
"I am, but even I'll admit that he's the only one who's ever been able to get through to you when you're like this. I just hope he's not too drunk to walk over here …"
"He's not drinking, Rachel," Kurt snapped. "Not like that …"
"Okay, okay, whatever. So I can call him, but not Marc?"
Kurt sighed again, heavier this time. He didn't even have enough fight in him to argue with her. "Do whatever you want. I'll be in the bedroom."
He dragged himself down the hall, switched off the light and turned on his bedside lamp. He dug in Blaine's dresser through boxer briefs and socks without pairs (which incited his typical eye rolling over the 'sock-eating monster' Blaine always cited) until he found Blaine's Dalton hoodie. It didn't really smell like Blaine anymore - he'd been wearing it too much lately - but he grabbed Blaine's bottle of Polo Black and spritzed the front with one spray. He pulled it over his head and almost started to cry, overwhelmed with the scent that usually announced his husband's presence.
Kurt sniffled, grabbed his portfolio, and turned back the charcoal linen comforter, flopping onto the bed on his stomach like a fish. And, as if he needed a reason to hate himself more, he flipped in the portfolio to the last fall/winter collection. It was a triumphant time - it had been the most responsibility he'd had with the label so far, and he was so proud of the collection, proud to show the pieces, proud to wear them. They were good. He was good. So good, in fact, that after the show, Marc had dragged him around, introducing him to celebrities and socialites.
And now, six months later, he was in bed wearing a ratty hoodie and a pair of yoga pants, fighting with Blaine, barely able to eat. Decidedly not working. Decidedly not at Fashion Week.
He shut the portfolio and pulled a pillow over his head, his legs still hanging halfway off the bed.
Sometime later - it could've been minutes; it could've been an hour; Kurt had completely lost track - he heard his door open.
"Kurt?" He peeked out from under the pillow. Blaine stood in the doorframe, out of breath, looking rumpled and gorgeous in jeans and a crewneck sweater. "Rachel called - she said you needed me -"
Kurt tossed the pillow aside, rolled over and sat up. "Blaine, did you run here?" he asked, trying to smooth his hair into some semblance of order.
"Well, yeah." He said it like it was the most obvious thing in the world.
Kurt sighed. "You didn't have to. I'm fine."
"You're wearing my hoodie," Blaine pointed out.
Kurt looked down at the faded, cracking letters on the soft blue fabric, fingering one of the strings threaded through the hood. "Yeah."
"You only wear it when you're upset about something," Blaine stated gently.
"Well … yeah," Kurt admitted.
"Does it still help? Even after … you know, with me not here?"
Kurt took a deep breath. "Wearing it is like getting a hug from you. So, yeah, it helps."
Blaine tipped his head, his expression softening. "Would you like a real one?"
"Yeah, I really would," Kurt said, his voice cracking. Blaine moved toward the bed, opening his arms and Kurt clambered onto his knees, burying his face in Blaine's soft sweater, letting his weight rest against Blaine's small but sturdy frame. He'd almost forgotten how safe Blaine's arms felt.
"Now," Blaine said, pressing a kiss to Kurt's temple, "you want to tell me what's wrong?"
"It's just - it's the first day of Fashion Week," Kurt said, tucking his cheek against Blaine's. "And I'm not there."
"Hey, it's okay," Blaine told him, one hand rubbing his back, the other holding the back of his head. "You're there in spirit, aren't you? I mean, all those designs - a lot of them are yours."
"Yeah," Kurt said, his voice watery. "But -"
"You were killing yourself, Kurt," Blaine said, pulling back to look in his eyes. "Working like that and not eating, and -"
"And how is this better?" Kurt asked, gesturing to his clothes. "I look homeless. Rachel practically has to force-feed me, and I'm not doing anything with my time. Did you see the house? It's a wreck."
"And I'm obviously doing so much better … you know, getting drunk, having meltdowns in the middle of the night, walking out on my husband, sleeping on my friend's couch …"
Kurt blinked at him.
"Nobody expects anything more from you than you can give, Kurt. Except maybe you." He sank onto the bed with Kurt, and they sat against the headboard, leaning against each other.
"But what if I lose my job?" Kurt asked after a few minutes. "What if he fires me?"
"Baby, we've talked about this before." Blaine grasped Kurt's chin between his thumb and forefinger, holding his gaze. "He wasn't expecting you to be back at work yet anyway. You were supposed to go to Fashion Week as an audience member, remember?"
"But that was when I was supposed to be busy! We were supposed to have a baby, we were supposed to be exhausted and covered in spit-up and drool and we were supposed to be happy, Blaine!"
"I know," he said, stroking Kurt's hair. "I know."
Kurt sighed, looking up at the wedding picture that hung above their dresser, the one that made his heart flip-flop whenever he looked at it lately. "I'm not happy at all. Not even a little bit."
"I know," Blaine sighed. "I'm not, either. We just - we'll have to learn again, how to be happy."
Kurt looked up at him. "I thought you were scared of being happy."
"Well, I am. But I think I'm even more scared of feeling like this for the rest of my life. It's pretty miserable." He paused, picking fuzz off the sheet underneath them.
"What's wrong?"
"It's just that … this is the first time I've been back since - you know," Blaine said softly. "I've missed our bed."
"And I've missed you in it," Kurt said, his eyes beginning to water. "But Blaine -"
"I know, I know," he said. "I'm not asking. I just - I miss it," he said, swiping a finger under one of his eyes. "I miss you."
Kurt nodded, too afraid to say anything for fear of crying.
Blaine sighed. "I never said thank you for coming to Rachel's Sunday night to make mefeel better."
"I was so scared," Kurt whispered, remembering the panicked expression on Blaine's face that night, the dream that shook him to his core.
"I was too," Blaine said. "Speaking of that … and of missing our bed … I have my first appointment with Dr. Jacobson this afternoon."
"Are you nervous?"
"Terrified," Blaine said with a self-deprecating smile.
"I'm proud of you, you know. For going," Kurt told him.
"I know. I'm proud of me, too. It's just - it's like getting a shot, I guess? Like, you know you have to have it, but you also know it's going to hurt like hell."
"Not for always," Kurt murmured, resting his hand on Blaine's stomach. "Just for a little while." He sighed as Blaine's hand found his. "Stay with me until it's time?"
"Of course I will."
* * *
Blaine sat in a large, cushy chair, his foot jiggling nervously as he waited for his name to be called. There were two other people waiting as well, and he could feel them judging him, could feel them staring, trying to figure out why hewas there.
He was there because he was going crazy. Which was probably exactly what they were all thinking.
"Blaine Anderson-Hummel?"
He was startled, sucking in a little gasp of air at the sound of his name. A tall woman with waist-length graying hair wearing a bright turquoise and purple peasant skirt stood at the desk, smiling in his direction. She matched the picture on the website perfectly. He tried to keep his hands from shaking as he made his way toward her. "Um, I'm Blaine," he said, clearing his throat. She offered her hand for him to shake.
"I'm Dr. Jacobson, Blaine. You can follow me back to my office, okay?"
He nodded, wiping his hand on his jeans before taking hers, embarrassed by his sweaty palms.
He followed her nervously down the hallway, surprised when she walked into a bright, cheerful-looking room. He was expecting someplace dark and austere, with cherry wood and tall bookcases like his dad's office had, but this room was lit by the sun, a huge window making up one whole wall. The other three walls were painted apple green, and an off-white cushy couch sat just a little off-kilter, a papasan chair across from it.
Dr. Jacobson took the papasan chair, gesturing for Blaine to sit across from her, and he sank down into the soft cushions.
"So, it's good to meet you," she told him, pulling out a yellow legal pad and a pen. "I read the email you sent me - you've had a hell of a year, it sounds like."
"Yeah, well …" He shrugged, looking at the ground. "Could've been worse."
"You think so?"
Blaine couldn't meet her eyes. "Well, nobody died," he said.
"That's true," she said slowly, making a note, and he wondered what she was writing. She looked up at him. "Okay, Blaine, why don't you tell me what you'd like to get out of our time together?"
"I - I don't know, I want to feel better -"
"And how do you feel now?"
"I -" Blaine stopped, a little unnerved by the fact that he held this woman's undivided attention. His first instinct was to be an Anderson, as his dad would proudly say, to apologize for wasting her time, to tell her that clearly there was nothing wrong with him, that he'd made a mistake.
But then he remembered the shocking clarity he'd felt as he looked out Nick's window that early morning. He remembered how broken was then, how broken he still was.
And for the first time in his life, Blaine wanted to be completely honest about his feelings. He had no idea if he trusted this woman, but sitting there in a skirt he knew Kurt would hate, wearing a serene, open expression, was his only hope at recovering his former life. A life with Kurt. A life full of writing, of stories, of books. A life where he could feel happy again …
"Blaine? Are you still with me?"
"Yeah, yeah, I'm sorry," he said. He cleared his throat. "I feel … bad."
"Bad can mean lots of different things," Dr. Jacobson told him. "Can you give me a little more detail than that?"
"I -" He was fidgety, his knees bouncing wildly up and down. Honesty was apparently even harder than he thought. "I, um -"
"Is it hard for you to talk about how you're feeling?"
Blaine sighed. "More when there's something wrong," he said, scrubbing a hand through his hair. "Like … I don't have a problem saying that I'm happy or excited, but …" He couldn't find the words he wanted, and it was unnerving, the way she was just sitting there, waiting for him to speak. Even when Kurt listened to him, he helped fill in what Blaine couldn't say. She was apparently going to make him do it all by himself. "… I haven't felt happy or excited in a long time."
"Since you lost your baby? Or before then?"
"No, I was fine before that." He paused. Was that true? Or had he just been telling himself that he was fine all those years? He didn't even know… "But - I don't want to talk about her yet." He hung his head. "I'm sorry, I -"
"Blaine, let me make something very clear before we go any further. This is supposed to be a safe space where you can talk about the things you feel like you need to discuss. The moment you feel unsafe here, it becomes counterproductive. I don't want you to feel like you need to apologize for anything. You're not doing anything wrong."
Then why does everything I do and think feel so wrong? Blaine sighed. "Um, okay. So - how does this work, exactly?"
"Meeting with me? Well, we talk. Just like we've been doing," Dr. Jacobson said. "If we decide that medication would benefit you, I have a partner who we can talk to about that. But I try not to take that avenue for a few visits at least, unless there's an immediate threat to your own or others' safety." She paused. "Do you think there's a threat there, Blaine?"
"I - no. I mean - I'm not suicidal, if that's what you're asking. Or - homicidal. I'm a little mad at Kurt, but I'd never hurt him …"
"Alright. If you ever feel that you're in danger of hurting yourself, or someone else, I want you to call 911. You can also call me, if you feel safe doing that. Do you understand?"
Blaine nodded. "So - what do we talk about?"
"Whatever you'd like to."
"Oh. Okay." Blaine was quiet. "Um." I'm sleeping on my friend's couch, I'm lazy and worthless and I walked out on my husband, and I hate myself.
"What about your email? Was there anything in it that you feel comfortable talking with me about?
"I -"
It was like his mind was playing tug-of-war with itself, half of him desperate to spout out every awful thing he'd done, every insecurity he had with himself. The other half was yelling at him in his father's voice, saying how childish he was being, telling him to man up and walk out of her office, that therapy was for crazy people, for weaklings.
"Not yet, I'm sorry, I just -"
"Blaine," Dr. Jacobson said, her voice gentle but firm, "what did I tell you about apologizing?"
"I know, I'm sorry -" He stopped, chuckling at himself. "I do that a lot."
"Apologize for things?"
"Yeah."
"Do you want to talk about that?"
"… Not yet."
"Okay, well, why don't you tell me about yourself? What you do, what you like …"
And finally, that was something Blaine could do. Dr. Jacobson asked him questions, and he answered them, told her about the journals he'd kept in middle and high school, how they'd been the only way he could breathe some days. How he'd started college as a musical performance major and discovered creative writing his sophomore year, how that had snowballed into poetry, into stories, into his first novel.
He told her about Romeo, about how soft his fur was, how much he missed him - and that why he missed him was a story for another day.
He didn't tell her about drinking to drown out the pain. He didn't tell her about Violet, how she'd stolen his heart faster than he ever imagined she would. He didn't tell her how he hated himself for walking out on Kurt, for doing nothing all day long.
He didn't tell her anything that mattered.
And by the end of the appointment, Blaine was squirming in his own skin, afraid that she would know, that she'd be so disappointed in him for refusing to open up that she'd ask him not to come back. He really was a failure - he couldn't even do therapy right.
"Blaine?" she said when he paused in the middle of a sentence. "You seem a little jumpy. Are you alright?"
"I'm just not very good at this."
"I don't think that this is something that you can be good or bad at."
"But - I don't want to talk about anything real -"
Dr. Jacobson smiled. "Everything you've just told me is real, unless you've been lying to me this whole time. Have you been?"
"Well, no, but -" He trailed off. Were omissions lies? Did it count if he didn't want to talk about such painful things with a woman he'd only just met? Would he ever be ready to talk about them?
"But what?" she asked after a long silence.
"I don't know!" he exclaimed, frustrated that he didn't know how to answer, frustrated that she wasn't being much help. "You ask me this stuff, and - I can't talk about it yet, I can't, and I'm sorry - I want help, I want to feel better, I do, but -"
"Blaine, it's okay."
"I'm sorry," he repeated, blinking fast as he looked down at the couch cushion. "I didn't mean to freak out …"
"Tell me something. Do you feel like you're disappointing me because you're not ready to talk about the hard stuff yet?"
"Yes," he said, relieved that he didn't have to try and explain it to her.
"Do I seem disappointed?"
He blinked at her. "Well … no, but -" He stopped. "I mean, I'm supposed to talk to you. Tell you stuff. Right?"
"You aren't supposed to do anything. Later, when we get to know each other better, there may be times where I challenge you to do things that are a little uncomfortable. But this is our first meeting. These things don't fix themselves, and especially not in an hour."
He sighed again. "I just feel like I should -"
"Let me stop you right there, just for a second," she said kindly. "We don't use the word 'should' here. It implies obligation, and you're not obligated to anything in here, okay? Try to stop using it at home, too."
"I'm sorry -" Dr. Jacobson raised her eyebrows, and Blaine groaned. "I know, I know, I'm - god, it's kind of a habit. Sorry." He laughed at himself. "I sound like a broken record."
"That's okay. We'll get there, if you're willing to try."
Blaine nodded. "I'd like to. I'll try to do better next time …"
"I don't know what you mean by better, but I'd love it if you gave yourself a break next time," she said, smiling at him. "Why don't we start by meeting once a week for now - and you and Kurt are doing couple's counseling, too, right?"
"Yeah - do you think that's a little excessive?" Blaine asked. "Meeting with you twice a week? I mean - am I that crazy?"
Dr. Jacobson tucked a piece of long hair behind her ear. "I don't like that word, either. You've been through severe emotional trauma this year. It's normal to need help with dealing with something like that. It's normal to have problems with your relationship when you've lost a child. And it's okay to cut yourself a little slack."
"I'm -" Blaine cut himself off just before the word 'sorry' slipped from his lips.
Dr. Jacobson smiled at him again. "See? You're catching on already." She paused. "Or did you only stop because you felt like I'd be disappointed if you said it again?"
Blaine gave her a sheepish look. "I think you're the one catching on…"
"Like I said, we'll get there. Try to think of some things you might like to talk about next time, okay?"
Blaine nodded. "I'll do my best."
"I know you will. You can make an appointment with Tracy out at the desk for next week, okay?"
He nodded again, trying not to bolt from the room. He scheduled four weeks of consecutive appointments with Tracy, then ran straight to the gym where he spent an hour of quality time with the heavy bag, never even changing out of his jeans. When he went to sleep that night, he rubbed over his aching knuckles, trying not to think about how good it felt to hurt.
* * *
Saturday, September 23rd, 2023
Blaine stared at the ceiling and tried to ignore yet another moan coming from Nick's bedroom. He'd been trying to sleep for an hour, but he'd been kept awake, initially by the sound of Nick talking to Jeff on Skype, but now it was something much more distracting. He really wished he'd skipped the gym that day - his earbuds had gotten into an unfortunate fight with a treadmill, and the treadmill had won.
"Jeff … mmmmm, that's good - wish you were here -"
Blaine sighed, tapping out a text to Kurt. He probably wasn't sleeping, either, and Blaine wanted someone to share his misery with.
To: Kurt <3
I think I know a little too much about
Nick's virtual sex life.
From: Kurt <3
Oh?
No. Kurt wasn't sleeping, either.
To: Kurt <3
They've been Skyping every night. Um,
vigorously.
From: Kurt <3
Oh.
From: Kurt <3
Can you Skype vigorously?
To: Kurt <3
Shut up, you know what I meant.
"Jeff - fuck, want you inside me, want your fingers -"
Blaine wanted to clamp his hands over his ears. Nick was one of his best friends, and while he loved seeing him this happy with Jeff, he did not care to know the particulars of what they did alone together.
To: Kurt <3
Just for that, and because I don't want
to be the only bearer of this knowledge,
apparently Nick is dying for Jeff to fuck
him. Have fun with that mental image J
From: Kurt <3
TMI, Blaine.
Blaine smiled. It was almost worth being kept up at night to carry on this banter with Kurt, but at the same time, it felt so bittersweet. He understood Kurt's point about not living together yet, and he didn't want to backtrack on the tentative steps they'd been taking toward each other lately either. But he missed his husband, and even more than that, his best friend.
To: Kurt <3
You should try being here. Noises, Kurt,
noises.
From: Kurt <3
What part of TMI don't you understand?
Not something I want to think about.
From: Kurt <3
To be honest, though, I think they're really
adorable together.
To: Kurt <3
Yeah, probably more adorable when you
can't hear the 'together' part, though.
From: Kurt <3
Lucky you ;)
I miss you, Blaine thought, I miss you, I miss you, I miss you.
From: Kurt <3
Okay, gotta go to bed - my eyes don't want
to stay open.
From: Kurt <3
Goodnight, husband. I love you.
Blaine smiled at the screen, the simple five words exactly what he needed to hear from Kurt.
To: Kurt <3
Goodnight, husband. I love you too.
Chapter 26