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"Blaine, you know it doesn't work that way."
Blaine is sitting cross-legged on Kurt's hospital bed, mirroring Kurt, a shining red and green Macintosh apple on the blanket between them. The sadness in Kurt's voice physically pains him, and he rushes to apologize.
"I'm sorry, I should have known better." His throat is tight. "I'll bring it home."
He reaches for the apple but Kurt stops him, a hand on his wrist. "No, leave it. It's pretty."
Blaine blinks, wills himself not to cry. "That's what I thought, too." He had spent an hour at the farmer's market, looking for the perfect apple to bring his husband. This one was lovely, just the right shape and color, a masterpiece of nature’s art. It didn't seem fair that Kurt was missing these crisp autumn days, the bright blue skies, the arrival of the dreaded pumpkin latte. But he was.
This wasn't the first time Kurt had practically stopped eating, but it was the worst. He had never had to be hospitalized before, never been a prisoner to the IV needle for so many weeks.
For as long as Blaine has known him, Kurt has liked being in control. The first time Blaine noticed it affecting Kurt's eating habits was during Kurt's second year at NYADA, after Kurt was beat up saving someone else from being bashed. It didn't seem to last long, though, and although Kurt had lost some weight at the time, he certainly hadn't seemed unhealthy to Blaine's eyes.
There were several bouts of similar behavior over the next few years, but Kurt always seemed to pull himself out of it. And unlike most things, he simply refused to talk to Blaine about it, or even acknowledge that there was anything to be concerned about. During one fight, Kurt even accused Blaine of confusing his own body issues with Kurt's. This would have upset Blaine more if he couldn't tell from the horrified look that passed over Kurt's face that Kurt didn't mean a word that he had said.
Then Kurt got cast in the Broadway revival of Rent. He immediately began dieting. He researched methods other actors had used to lose weight for parts (if Matt Bomer could do it for The Normal Heart, he could do it too, he explained) and wound up skinnier than Blaine had ever seen him. It frightened Blaine. It kept him up at night as he watched Kurt sleep and wondered what was going to happen. Blaine was relieved when the show's three month run came to an end. He slowly tried to bring things back to normal, stopping to pick up a pizza on the way home, making pancakes for breakfast. But Kurt couldn't let go of it, couldn't stop policing his every bite. And he kept on losing weight.
At least, as far as Blaine could tell. Kurt had given up wearing belts, so Blaine couldn’t judge his waist size by his selection. And he almost never wore anything form-fitting; gone were the days of painted on pants. Instead, despite the heat of the summer, Kurt had taken to wearing sweatpants and fleece sweaters. Blaine couldn't remember the last time he had seen Kurt without clothes on. Their sex life dwindled to nothing, just a few kisses before bed.
Their fights grew fiercer, meaner. Blaine insisted Kurt needed to see a doctor. Kurt told him to mind his own business, find something productive to do instead of shaming Kurt for wanting to be "healthy." But Kurt was anything but healthy.
Kurt stopped going to auditions. Blaine thought he was probably just too tired. He hoped that when Burt visited he could knock some sense into his son, but then the visit somehow got called off, Kurt explaining that he was too busy with a project for Isabelle. Blaine didn't question Kurt about the project; he knew there wasn’t one.
One night in early September Blaine came home to find Kurt in bed, in the same clothes he had on for the past few days. It wasn't even dinnertime yet, and Blaine had bought some frozen yogurt on the way home; Kurt usually agreed to eat a few spoonfuls, especially if Blaine got the right flavor. But when Blaine sat on the edge of the bed and stroked Kurt's bony shoulder, Kurt didn't stir.
After a few moments of panicked pleading, Blaine finally got Kurt to open his eyes. Kurt was out of it, confused, and it was all Blaine could do not to call an ambulance then and there. But he carried Kurt into the living room and sat with him on the couch until Kurt finally seemed to realize what was going on.
"Blaine?” Kurt’s eyes were sad, sunken into his face. “I need to go to the doctor, don't I?"
Those first days, with Kurt lying pale on the sheets as doctors poked and questioned him, Blaine finally understood that Kurt could die. And as angry, and worried, and confused as he had been before, it was nothing compared to this. He could lose him, his Kurt, his soulmate. Forever.
And yet, the doctors told him, there was nothing he could do. Kurt had to struggle through this alone. Blaine could love him, and support him, but Blaine couldn't fix him.
So he visited him every day in the hospital, like on days like this one when the sun shone brightly outside, but there was barely a flicker of light in Kurt.
*****
Although they have only been talking for a few minutes, Blaine can see that Kurt is tired. "Want to watch a movie?"
Kurt shrugs.
Blaine helps Kurt slide down in bed, lies next to him on the side without the IV, and arranges his laptop on the table. He gently pulls Kurt against him, taking his hand and bringing it to his lips. Kurt’s self-conscious about every touch these days, but he’s sleepy enough to just curl into Blaine. Blaine holds him close, hoping that his love will somehow seep through his skin and into Kurt's fragile body.
Slowly, Kurt gets better. Blaine is overjoyed the day they take him off the IV, even though the nurse has warned him that it might only be temporary. But Kurt is smiling more, is awake more, and there are evenings when he seems like his old self. He still won't agree to go out to a movie, or even for a walk, but progress is definitely being made.
The day Kurt is scheduled to come home, Blaine is nervous. He's afraid something will go wrong. Kurt laughs it off, teases him about all the notes he has taken, the detailed instructions Blaine hopes will help them face what comes next. "I'll be fine," Kurt says.
That first afternoon, sitting at their tiny dining room table, eating the chicken soup Blaine had made the day before, it seems like Kurt is right. He eats the soup (a small portion, served in petite, colorful bowls Blaine found at Kurt’s favorite flea market), and a piece of bread with a little bit of the most flavorful butter Manhattan has to offer. Kurt smiles his appreciation at Blaine. “It’s delicious,” Kurt says, and Blaine thinks he means it.
Kurt takes a long shower before he joins Blaine in bed. He’s wearing a pajama set from several years ago, a button-up shirt in a soft mauve with white piping, and matching pants. He’s beautiful.
Blaine turns to Kurt, holds an arm out in invitation, but Kurt climbs in to his side of the bed and stays there. He squeezes his eyes together, gives Blaine a quick look of apology, then turns over and curls up on his side, facing away from Blaine.
Blaine’s heart sinks. He can’t help the hurt that clenches in his chest. A million thoughts swirl through his mind, and he’s brought back into focus only by the realization that the same thing is probably going on in Kurt’s head.
“Kurt?” Blaine says softly. “Please tell me what’s going on.” He doesn’t ask if anything is wrong; it clearly is.
Kurt doesn’t respond right away, but then the blankets shift and his arm comes out, reaching back to find Blaine. Blaine takes his hand, runs his fingers over the bones in his wrist, waits.
“I’m nervous,” Kurt says.
“About what?”
Kurt flops over, frowns, pulls his hand out of Blaine’s and waves it at himself. “You know.”
“I love you so much, Kurt.” Blaine scoots closer, slowly, still not touching him. “I love you no matter how much you weigh, no matter what you look like. You know that.”
Kurt closes his eyes and nods, like he’s trying to convince himself that it’s true.
“And I’ve missed you so very much,” Blaine goes on. “It’s been scary.” He wonders if Kurt understands how far things went, how afraid he was. “I was so worried that I’d lose you.”
He hears Kurt suck in a breath at this. They haven’t discussed it, not explicitly.
“But now you’re here with me, we’re both where we belong, together. I’m nervous too, you know. I don’t know if I’m doing this right, I don’t know what to do. I don’t want to say the wrong thing. You have to tell me if I say the wrong thing.” He swallows hard over the lump in his throat. “It’s not like I’m going to ravish you or anything, I just…”
Kurt leans up on an elbow, and his mouth quirks at the edge. “Blaine Anderson-Hummel, are you saying you need a hug?”
Blaine laughs, the air bursting out of him. “Yeah, I think I do.”
Kurt twists to turn off the light on the bedside table, and then turns back to Blaine. “Come here.”
Blaine complies, lying carefully against Kurt’s chest, one arm reaching around to hold him tight. Kurt sighs into his hair and wraps his arms around him. “Better?”
“Yes.” Blaine snuggles closer, his nose against Kurt’s neck. “Much better.”
“You’re doing fine, by the way,” Kurt says. “More than fine.”
Blaine relaxes, warm and safe, for the moment, with Kurt all around him. “Love you so much.”
“Love you too.”
It’s weeks, though, before Kurt shows any interest in resuming intimate relations with his husband. Blaine tries not to think about it too much. He understands, rationally, what’s going on. He’s determined not to push. He doesn’t make comments on Kurt’s appearance, ever, as a rule, although he freely compliments his humor and his heart. He doesn’t stare when Kurt sticks his head out of the shower, lovely shoulders revealed, to ask Blaine to find him another bar of soap. He doesn’t grope Kurt’s ass when Kurt slides past him in the row of seats at the movie theater. He is patient, and he loves his husband, and he isn’t going to push.
They get home late one night after a dinner at Rachel and Jesse’s place, slightly buzzed on good wine and the joy of good friends. Kurt comes into the bedroom as Blaine is changing out of his clothes, pulling his henley off over his head. There’s a look in his eyes that Blaine hasn’t seen in a while, and he turns to Kurt, shirt still in his hand, chest bare, aching to close the distance between them. But then Kurt darts away into the bathroom, and the moment is lost.
A few days later Kurt slides into bed next to Blaine, freshly showered as always. Blaine is expecting a platonic cuddle, but instead Kurt fixes him with a determined look. “Are you still attracted to me?”
“What?” Blaine’s voice cracks in surprise. “What are you talking about?”
“I just need to know. I’m not…”
“Not what?” Blaine stumbles over his words. “You’re beautiful, you’re perfect. I love you. How could I not be attracted to you?” He reaches out, touches a finger to Kurt’s chest, over his heart. “Kurt…”
“Rachel hugged me the other day, and she said I was finally less… skeletal than I was before. Is that true?”
“Well, yes.” It is, thankfully, true. But this doesn’t seem to please Kurt. “Is that bad?”
“No, but it means I was. You saw me like that. You even said it, you thought I was going to die… And I’m not much better off now. How could you-”
Blaine acts on instinct, cutting off Kurt’s words with a searing kiss. He pours every ounce of feeling he has for Kurt into it, love and adoration and lust, and when he pulls back, Kurt’s eyes are wide and stunned. “Look at me, Kurt,” he says, catching his gaze. He can feel his breath straining in his lungs. “I am desperately, head over ass attracted to you. As much as I ever was, if not more.”
“It doesn’t turn you off? That when you hold me, you can feel my bones?”
Blaine is amazed – the thought had never crossed his mind. All he ever sees when he looks at Kurt is someone he wants to be closer to, in every way possible, body and mind and soul. He would laugh if it wouldn’t be completely inappropriate. “No, no way, not at all.” He kisses Kurt again, softer this time, but with intent, nipping at his bottom lip as he pulls back. “I’m sorry if I made you feel like I wasn’t interested,” he says, looking Kurt in the eye. “I was trying not to push.”
“But you are?” Kurt asks. “Interested?”
“Very.” Blaine leans in to kiss Kurt again, and Kurt presses back, licking into his mouth and grabbing him around the back of his head to hold him close. Blaine can’t help the moan that escapes his lips, and Kurt surges tighter against him, both of them clinging tightly together. When they finally come up for air, Blaine draws in a long breath and finds Kurt’s eyes. “Let me show you?”
Kurt searches his eyes, seems to find what he is looking for, and sits up. “Take off my shirt.”
Blaine grins, sits up and runs a finger inside the collar of Kurt’s top. “You sure?”
“Jerk. Yes, I’m sure.”
But before commencing with the upcoming sexytimes, Blaine dives into Kurt and hugs him, tight.
“Blaine,” Kurt protests, “I can’t breathe.” He’s not serious. And he’s giggling, snorting into Blaine’s hair, relaxing into his hold.
“I love you,” Blaine says, still tightly wrapped around his husband. “I love you so much. We’re going to be fine, you know. This – us together – is always going to be fine.”
“If my sharp ribs don’t poke you too hard.”
“Maybe I like a little pain,” Blaine says, a smile on his face. He doesn’t – he pouts over a paper cut, and they both know it. But it just makes it that much funnier, and Kurt can’t help but giggle again.
But then Blaine leans in and starts kissing along Kurt’s jawline, and Kurt’s giggles subside as he hums his approval. Blaine begins to unbutton Kurt’s pajama shirt, his lips following his fingers, kissing Kurt’s chest as his shirt falls open. He pushes it off Kurt’s shoulders, and runs his hands up and down Kurt’s arms.
“You’re beautiful,” Blaine breathes out. He finds Kurt’s eyes, takes his face in his hands and kisses him hard. “I love you.”
Kurt lies back on the bed, tugs at the hem of Blaine’s t-shirt. “Take yours off, too.”
Blaine strips off his shirt and tosses it on the floor. Their light is still on – Kurt hadn’t turned it off tonight like he usually did - and they look at each other, Blaine’s broad chest and soft belly in stark contrast to Kurt’s skinny frame. Blaine leans down and kisses Kurt’s ribs, tracing them with his fingers and his lips.
“Your bones are strong, Kurt. There’s nothing wrong with bones.”
Kurt huffs, still not completely comfortable. “Maybe you have a thing for skeletons.”
“I’ve always liked Halloween,” Blaine says, then freezes as he looks up at Kurt. “Too much?”
But Kurt is smiling, trying not to laugh. “You’re ridiculous.”
“Maybe.” Blaine continues with his ministrations, abandoning Kurt’s ribs to lick at a nipple, and then all bets are off.
Kurt starts to whimper, and Blaine pauses, chin resting on Kurt’s sternum. “This okay?”
“So okay,” Kurt breathes out.
Blaine returns his attention to Kurt’s chest, teasing one nipple and then the other, until Kurt is clutching hard at his arm and writhing underneath him. He lets his mouth travel back down, slides Kurt’s pajama pants just over his hip, and sucks a hickey into the soft skin there. Then he tucks a finger into the waistband of Kurt’s pants, and pauses.
“Kurt?”
Kurt is breathing hard, one hand grabbing the sheets, the other in Blaine’s hair. “What? Why are you stopping?”
Blaine grins. “Bossy.” He pulls at Kurt’s pants, Kurt lifting up so that Blaine can get them off, and then hops off the bed for a moment to take off his own. “These too?” Blaine tugs at his briefs, and Kurt just gives him a look and pulls off his own.
Then they are pressed close to each other, blissfully naked from head to toe, and Blaine sighs as Kurt plants his hand on his lower back and holds him close. They rock gently against each other, then with more force, legs winding together, hips searching for just the right angle. Blaine cups Kurt’s ass, holds him tight and plants breathless kisses on his neck.
“Blaine, fuck, I’m gonna come just from this,” Kurt moans, rutting against Blaine’s hip.
“Go ahead, baby, let go.” Blaine is close, too. It’s been so long, and Kurt is so intoxicating, the smell and touch and sound of him. He’s not going to last.
Kurt slides a hand between them and shifts until he can get a hand around them both. Blaine stutters out a cry, digging his head into Kurt’s shoulder. “Fuck, Kurt.”
“Okay? Too much?”
“God no, so good. Keep going.” Blaine slides a finger around between Kurt’s cheeks, presses against his hole, but before he can do much more he’s coming, clutching and grasping at Kurt as the world explodes around him. Kurt follows after with a long moan. Blaine pets at Kurt’s hair as they try to catch their breath, and plants messy kisses on Kurt’s open mouth. They are sticky and sweaty and very, very, happy.
*****
Life goes on, and for the most part, they are fine.
Blaine gets an offer to go on tour with a show; he turns it down. Kurt is furious at first. "I don't need you to take care of me," he fumes. But Blaine is just too scared of what might happen, that Kurt could disappear while he was away, without him even knowing. He doesn't change his mind. Kurt understands, although it's embarrassing and frightening. They weather it.
They manage to land jobs happily working together on an off-off-Broadway production, Kurt in costumes and Blaine assisting the music director. With no spotlight on either of them, they relax. Their schedules are aligned most of the time, and even when they don't quite match up, they can always find something to do at the theater while waiting for the other to finish working. Blaine thinks he's never been so happy.
But then the phone call comes. Burt has had another heart attack. He's okay, he's going to be fine, but Kurt is deeply shaken. After that, Blaine notices him eating less and less, and Kurt sees him noticing. "I'm okay," Kurt tells him. But he's not.
This time, though, Blaine is determined to do something. Even if it isn't up to him. Because he won't watch Kurt fade away again. He can't.
They scream at each other, and sob, and slam doors. And then one morning, to Blaine's grateful amazement, Kurt wakes him up with a kiss and a question. "Help me pack?"
Kurt's therapist praises him for acknowledging the problem before it got even worse. And Kurt seems determined to snap himself out of it, pleading with Blaine not to tell their director what's really going on, hoping he can be back at work soon enough that he can pretend he just got a bad flu. Blaine thinks Kurt just might pull it off.
They're listening to music together in Kurt’s hospital bed, one earbud from Blaine's iPod for each of them, when Kurt starts talking. He's staring at the ceiling, but it's more direct than he's ever been on the subject.
"If I never get completely better, what happens?"
"Kurt?" Blaine pulls the earbud out of his ear, sits up and looks at his husband. "What do you mean, what happens?"
"What if our life is always like this, in and out of hospitals all the time, you always worried about me, scared to leave me alone...?"
Blaine presses a kiss to Kurt's lips. It's clearly not what Kurt expected, and he frowns when Blaine pulls back.
"I'm serious, Blaine."
"I'm serious, too. This is our life. We're living it. We're alive, and we're together, and that makes it pretty darn good." Blaine kisses Kurt again, hard and intent, until they are both short of breath. "I'm never saying goodbye to you."
Kurt's cheeks are flushed. "Even if I have a more complicated relationship with cheesecake then I did in high school?"
"As long as you never snap your fingers at the wait staff again, it's all good.”