A/N: I'm so very sorry for the hiatus. If you care about the reason or want to know more, see the author's note at the end. I seriously wasn't trying to be an asshole making everyone wait this long, I promise! So Merry Christmas (if you're celebrating). And thanks to kurtstalker and others, as well as my new followers for encouraging me to get this out. I appreciate every one of you who have shown concern on my part. It truly has meant a lot. It is my goal to now update this every other week until I'm finished. That's the goal, anyway. This one is un-beta'ed because I wanted to get it out as soon as I finished it. Thanks and I hope everyone hung around. Again, I'm so very sorry about the extreme delay. HAPPY HOLIDAYS!

"Shall we go to the living room while we wait? The couch and stuff are probably much more comfortable than the kitchen chairs and, well, there's something I need – no want to talk to you about, Blaine," Kurt stated, his voice falling a bit apprehensive and quiet at the end of his statement.

Emotion grabbed at Blaine's heart and stopped the words short coming out his mouth. They seemed to catch in the back of his throat and he had to clear it to even answer Kurt. "Sure, um, I guess that'd be okay." Blaine's answer came out quieter than Kurt's request had, hesitant and strained. Not knowing what else to do, he followed Kurt into the living room.

As Blaine settled on the couch, his mind seemed to roar to life and the reality of what the conversation they were going to have came to the forefront. The possibilities were endless, really, and his mind ran away with him. All of the potential scenarios he had come up with over the years fought for the position of 'most likely' in his head. He couldn't settle on just one and it was overwhelming that he might have an answer, finally after all these years.

He could already smell the cooking lasagna's scent wafting through the apartment. But the scent did nothing but cause Blaine's stomach to turn even more. After Kurt had said he wanted to talk to him about something, he couldn't think of anything else and how sick he was to his stomach that he'd finally find out why he was so unworthy. Something, Kurt had said. It could be anything that he wanted to talk to Blaine about. It could be that a boyfriend had resurfaced in Kurt's life, or he was leaving, or he didn't really want Blaine around. But he had said he wanted to talk to him. Blaine couldn't help but hope Kurt wanted to finally tell him what he'd done. Or not done. Why he hadn't been enough for Kurt.

Silence settled over the two men seated on opposite ends of the couch. Blaine couldn't help but pick at his fingers, examining each and every cuticle, wanting the waiting to be over. Kurt wasn't facing him, but seemed to be collecting himself as he stared down at the floor. His eyes closed briefly before Blaine sensed Kurt turning towards him.

Kurt started talking, slowly at first, gaining momentum as he went on. But Blaine couldn't seem to comprehend all that he was hearing. It wasn't so much the words that were sinking in, getting past his barriers that he had carefully maintained for so long, but really the meaning behind them. The pleading he could hear in Kurt's soft voice – the longing for them to have some sort of relationship. Kurt was asking him to be in his life – on a regular basis. Blaine's heart warmed a bit at his request. It fluttered in his chest, hope filling his down-turned eyes. He could think of nothing better than being around his Kurt, even if it was just as friends.

Kurt continued, and all Blaine could hear was "I'm sorry, I'm so sorry." He knew before the words came out of Kurt's mouth. He was going to know, whether he really wanted to or not – and he wouldn't really be able to know if he did want to know until after he'd heard. The blood was roaring in his ears and he forced it down, forced his ears to listen to what Kurt was saying to him, to focus on the words. It took all of his concentration to keep listening to Kurt's voice and not lose the present. His mind wanted to escape and flee to other times and places and much more pleasant conversations he'd always wished he would have had with Kurt.

Tears started to pool in his eyes, falling without reservation to the pillow below his chin. He was terrified. There was no other emotion that could describe what he was trying to fight. Blaine's muscles were tight and starting to cramp up on him, everything in his head was screaming at him – hurt, failure, run, run, run, get out, don't listen, don't let him in. But with what was left of his self-control, Blaine stayed put and waited for Kurt to continue. His fear of finding out his final and utter failure helped keep him rooted to the spot.

During his fight with himself, Kurt had asked him a question. He played over the last part of their conversation in his head, and heard Kurt ask, "Can you just let me, and listen . . . please . . . it's going to be hard to hear, but I need to tell you and I think you want to know. Yes?"

Blaine kept his face down, playing with his fingers and the edge of the pillow. Avoiding, always avoiding. The pause went on slightly too long for even his comfort, and he glanced up quickly and momentarily met Kurt's eyes. He nodded just then and quickly averted his eyes. He'd given Kurt enough to continue and Blaine sat rigidly in his seat, just bracing for everything that was coming, his head aching with the strain of forcing himself to remain where he was and just listen.

"Blaine, there's something I want to talk to you about. I want you to trust me again, and I think the only real way we can move past everything that has gone on between us and have solid ground is for me to tell you this. I never wanted to – I never wanted to hurt you and I hope you can come to understand that. I tortured you for no reason really, but while it was going on, when I cut you out of my life, I truly thought I was protecting you," Kurt began.

"I tortured you for no reason, really?" were the only words Blaine could latch onto. Was I nothing? A nothing reason was what ruined everything, what tore apart my heart and my life. The panic he was now so used to feeling was starting to boil in his stomach. Despite his distress, Kurt continued on.

"And I'm sorry, you must know how sorry I am and how much I've regretted doing not only what I did, but cutting you out." Blaine could only nod. His head fell back against the pillows on the couch, catching him. He stopped himself from moving more, hoping that tipping his head back would stop the tears that threatened. He just wanted to get through this, to find out why and be able to escape with whatever scraps of dignity he had left.

All Kurt was going on about was how he couldn't tell him, how he'd hid himself. Did he have any idea the anguish he was putting Blaine through? What had happened to him after he left? His hands were drawing his attention again, now that he realized no matter what he did the tears would come. The tension in his body prevented him from doing much more, but all he wanted was the truth and for everything to be over. Everything.

Kurt's story continued. And that's how he saw it – a story. Far off in the distance as though it had happened to someone else, not him at all. That Kurt's story didn't point out clues to him that he hadn't caught then and didn't catch now. He'd changed majors – dropped one actually. He should have caught that. Kurt had loved them both so much. And Blaine had known that because as much as he hated to admit it, he did check up on him doing what he could through the school's website.

"Right, yes, well, continuing on with the story – I'd had huge projects due in just about every class right after that weekend you left to see Wes and David. You left on Thursday because your Friday classes had been canceled. I don't know if you remember, but I had . . ."

Blaine knew this part of the story and he found his voice again. Making every effort to keep his tone even, he managed to state, "You had a design pallet due in Fashion merchandising, and your first full garments constructed entirely by you coming up and had two composition assignments due. I remember." He knew this part of the story. This was him and Kurt prior to Kurt leaving. He remembered these weeks so well, he'd gone over them so many times in the past. They had replayed late at night and into mornings without sleep, searching his memories for anything that would lead him to a clue as to what had happened and how to win Kurt back. He was thinking. Hard. And remembering, trying still, to figure out what had happened.

The next part started to sound like every excuse in the book – busy and tired and worn out. These were no reason for Kurt to leave him. These were the times he leaned on Blaine, counted on him above everyone else. Kurt had always turned to him before during these trying times when school and work and everything else was tearing him up. But evidently he didn't this time. He'd resorted to something else. Kurt had his full attention now, while Blaine was wracking his brain for any clues as to what had happened.

"Once I got in, I was just so exhausted, and I started studying on my bed. I had class on Friday morning early and still hadn't finished one of my compositions for class at 9:30 the next morning. I thought I'd study a little to clear my head and then get back to writing. So I sat down on my bed to study. The next thing I knew it was 9:15 the next morning and I woke up to my roommate banging through the door in a towel getting ready for class. I still wasn't done and I was in a complete panic. The music had to be finished and I only had a few minutes to even get ready and I couldn't think. I didn't think."

What was this? This didn't really matter. It was a non-story, one that you would forget or at least ever learn from and tell as a joke later in life. A failed class, or assignment, that was all. He couldn't comprehend how this, of all things, tied to them and him and what he had ruined. "Yeah?" He questioned Kurt, before he even realized he had spoken. He had to know now. The pillow he'd had near his hip was now on his lap and Blaine was clutching at it. This couldn't be it – it was entirely too trivial to be any part of the reason. "And then what?"

"I, um, I," Kurt swallowed. "I grabbed the one project I had done and was frantically looking for the one I had started, hoping there was enough that I could use it or make some excuse, but I couldn't find it. But I did find. I found one of yours. So I didn't think, I grabbed it and I threw it in my bag. I ran to class. I truly didn't think about it. I didn't. And I have regretted that ever since.

Blaine's eyes rose on their own accord. Seriously? Where was the cheating, the failure, the disdain for him? Where was the ultimate, fatal flaw he had that caused Kurt to hate him so? He cleared his throat and Kurt's tear-filled eyes met his. "This is all over a song? Really?" The disbelief in his voice caused it to waiver and give away his emotion.

"No, Blaine. The song was the start. I took it to class. I didn't know the prof was going to look over them while we worked on our other stuff. I just threw my name on it put it with the other one. Which was garbage by the way. I was never the songwriter you were. We were working on something elese, I can't even remember what but these songs, the two we'd turned in were half the grade. We were at midterms. I'd had such terrible writer's block and had so much else going on, I can't believe I'd left it so long, something so important. So we were working, remember this was one of those three hour torture session classes. And the prof, he called us back to the group and said he'd picked the top grades. Those in the top were going to be asked to play. You got extra credit or something if you did it and we were all performance majors so it wasn't a shocker. What was a shocker was that he called my name. Told me that my one piece was 'uninspired drivel' but that the other was fantastic –raw and full of emotion, exactly what we'd been asked to do."

Kurt was taking a drink of water. He looked apprehensive, but overall was pretty calm. This was nothing. He'd stolen a song. For a class that didn't really matter. Evidently he'd played his song too, getting noticed that it was written for guitar and not piano, but getting good marks despite that fact. What song was it? What had he had lying around at Kurt's that would have worked? What would have not missed after Kurt left him?

He carried no, distracting Blaine from searching his brain for the missing song. "You'd played it just before you left for me, which is probably why it was on top of the pile and in my room not yours. Anyway, I had to perform it. So I did. In front of the class and I sang it. It went really pretty well, that wasn't the problem. The prof liked it and I got the grade. It was after the class that the problem really started."

Blaine cleared his throat. He had to know, he just had to. What was it that he had written that had ruined everything? Or bought about the path to everything being ruined? "What song was it, Kurt? The one you took?" The confusion must have shown on his face. He met Kurt's eyes again and read pity there – one emotion he never wanted to see on Kurt's face again. He had to figure this out. It was too much, and so not enough. A stolen, or borrowed song didn't have to cost everything they had had. "You know, if you'd called me or whatever, I'd have let you have the song. We'd have talked when I got back about your workload and everything and what happened, but if it was just the taking of the song, I mean we could have gotten through that. But, what one was it? I wanna know."

"It was, um, it was 'The Muse,'" Kurt replied. "That's the one I took."

Blaine looked up at him, visibly puzzled and possibly a little amused. "You're seriously telling me you stole 'my muse?' If you weren't so damn serious about this I'd be laughing my ass off." Blaine chuckle a bit anyway. "Seriously, Kurt, of all the songs, you steal my 'Muse?!"

Blaine managed another glimpse up at Kurt and noticed a small smile that crept at the corner of Kurt's mouth. "Yeah, I know. Bad word choice. So, anyway, the professor liked it and everything seemed fine. I mean as fine as plagiarism can be, I guess. And lying, and stealing from your boyfriend and taking credit for his brilliance. But I had gotten through it and I would have told you, I would have, I swear. But after class something else happened. I went back to my dorm and tried to pull my shit together. I was hopeful I'd gotten away with everything, but I was nowhere near in the clear. I went to the rest of my classes that day and worked in the studio and everything like normal. When I got back for the night, my roommate was there getting ready to go out. Well, you were gone and I wanted a drink after the crap I went through that day, so I said I'd go with him.

We went out to some random pub that some of the music people liked to frequent because Derrick (the roommate, remember him? With his fascination with tube socks?) was a music minor. The night went fine, a few light drinks interspersed with Diet Coke, you know the way I drink well really don't drink. Anyway, as the night wore on, I found myself alone with a few of the people that happened to be in the performance class I'd had that day. We were all glad our midterm assignments had been turned in and were reveling in the bit of the break we were getting.

Most of them went up to get another drink and they left me alone with Marcus. He was in my class and I think you were an acquaintance of his as well. In fact I know you were." Kurt's words were beginning to falter and come slower. "Marcus had been staring at me all night. It was a little creepy but I didn't think about it much. I was just enjoying being out. There must have been a backup at the bar or something because we were left alone for a while. He asked me about you. Where you were. I told him you were gone, that you were visiting friends for the weekend. He then got this weird look on his face and congratulated me on my grade in class earlier that day. He'd never done well in performance composition and he wasn't picked top. I figured he was a little jealous. He let the subject die for a few minutes, but brought it up again when there was a lull in the music."

Kurt's words stopped then. Blaine had been trying to just listen, wondering if he needed to go after Marcus or the dumb roommate. He wondered where he had really been that night – if he had really needed to go see Wes and David that weekend or if it had just been an excuse to escape for a bit. What would have happened if he had been there for Kurt? Kurt was crying in earnest now, but he still fought to speak. Blaine had lost his voice, so Kurt continued without interruption. "Marcus commented that he liked my song. And that's' the way he said it. MY song. He knew, Blaine. He knew. And then he told me that he'd really liked it, probably even better when he'd heard you sing it in that coffee shop a few weeks before when you'd introduced it as a new song you'd just finished. He had grinned at me then. Grinned this evil grin. And he was jealous. He was pissed he didn't do as well. And he knew. I didn't know what to do. The others came back then and he didn't say anything else. I was terrified he would. I mean, you know the penalty for cheating. I could be kicked out of the program and if it got back to the right people, I could have been kicked out of the university all together. What would my dad have said? What would you have said? It was so FUCKING stupid. I should have just taken the fail but I had to grab that song I had to and I got myself into it.

I sat there all the rest of the night scared to death of what was going to happen to me with stupid fucking Marcus staring at me and making these weird smiles. When we left, which I couldn't wait for, Marcus made sure to be at the back of the group with me. And he asked me 'What's it going to take? What are you going to do to make sure I don't' tell the professor and the dean that you're a pretentious lying cheating little teacher's pet?' I asked him what he wanted.

And before I tell you this, Blaine, I'm just, I'm so sorry." Kurt's words were indistinguishable now, between the tears. And Blaine struggled to understand him, struggled to keep the roaring in his ears down, to be able to hear what Kurt had left to say. He could see Kurt moving closer to him on the couch, but he was powerless to stop him. He could move, or think, or speak. There must have been something else. He could have done something, anything! But what, what was it? His brain was rushing, rushing and not letting him stop.

"Marcus wanted me to go out with him. On a date the next night. I'd told him you'd be gone all weekend before I knew what he was up to. He knew you'd be gone. And I , I agreed because I thought it'd be over. The deal was for one date and he wouldn't tell. I just had to go. And it was awful. It's why I didn't answer my phone that Saturday. I wasn't working all day, although I did a bit. I just couldn't talk to you and know this was coming. I went out with him and it was just dinner and a drink or two, although he had several more than I did and I didn't even touch him, I swear. But he walked me back to the dorms and he said it wasn't enough. That if there wasn't more, he'd tell. He, he - he pushed me up against the building and he kissed me. He was bigger than me and I couldn't stop him and it was vile and awful and then he, he groped me and he wouldn't leave me alone. He grabbed my, he grabbed my parts and it was so awful. Nobody'd ever touched me there but you and I never wanted anyone else to. It make me so sick. I nearly vomited in his mouth. I wish I would have. I finally got so I could move enough, I kneed him in the groin."

There was something. Something to cling to – there had been something else. Something had ruined this – it was the fact that Kurt thought he valued being his 'first and only' so much that he couldn't face me again. I'd built up my love for him on a false floor – I would have loved him if he'd been my tenth but I never let him know that. It was my fault, my failure.

Despite the revelation going on in Blaine's head, Kurt continued, "He got off me then and told me I'd pay for that. I'd pay and now there was nothing I could do. But there was. Sunday night you came back and I broke up with you. I'd been ruined. I'd stolen from you, gone out with someone behind your back and gotten kissed and someone had put their hands on me. I'd lied about so much. And so Monday, I got it together enough that I dropped all my music classes and withdrew from the performance major."

They were both crying now; the hard wracking tears of the truly heartbroken, but for so very different reasons. Blaine jumped as Kurt dropped to his knees in front of him, lightly placing his hands on Blaine's knees. "I'm so sorry Blaine, I've screwed up so badly. But it was so long ago. I could never be more sorry."

Blaine pushed him off and dropped the pillow. The disgust he felt for himself and for Kurt's actions boiled over and he had to get away. He had to escape to think, to regain himself, and to figure out what the hell he was going to do with this information. "You were right, Kurt, when you told me you were selfish. I think I need a minute."

He managed to push himself off the couch and head to the bathroom. Blaine made it to the bathroom. He at least made it there, and locked the door before he started hyperventilating. It was all too much. His breath came in short, fast gasps and he felt like he couldn't fill his lungs. His mind couldn't process fast enough. This was all over a stupid song?! A stupid song he would have gladly helped Kurt with but Kurt had always, always gotten himself so worked up about the smallest things. His whole life had been torn away from him for a song.

A song and for Kurt to save face… a small part of his brain reminded him. Kurt chose this as the best option. And the best option wasn't doing everything he could to save them. To save him. Blaine's hands gripped the countertop hard enough that his fingertips were losing color. He'd failed too – he'd failed to show Kurt how unconditional his love really was. And for that, and that alone he had deserved all the punishment he'd gotten over the years. He had to leave.

His whole life had been shattered, his road altered when Kurt decided to use of one his songs and then leave him to "protect him." Blaine hadn't processed it all yet, but his mind kept repeating "you weren't worth telling, you're nothing, not even worth a song, he couldn't risk his reputation on you." "You're not worth it; You're not worth it."

The nights he'd spent imagining what had happened in his room, the days he'd spent missing Kurt, the thousands of times he'd picked up his phone and wished he had Kurt's number: they were all a waste. He was a waste. Kurt had just told him so.

He didn't see Kurt crumpled on the floor when he threw the door to the bathroom open and practically ran down the hallway to the door. He yanked on it, momentarily fumbling with the lock. Then he was outside, before he even knew what he was really doing and before his mind could catch up. The darkness surprised him and the cold air shocked his lungs. He'd left his coat behind but he didn't care. He couldn't. He just had to move. His feet carried him forward, toward the subway stop he needed.

The cold night air burnt in his lungs as he heaved breaths. He couldn't seem to suck in enough air to fill them. The burning in his chest convinced him he was still living, still moving through the cold darkness toward his apartment.

He couldn't catch him. Blaine must have disappeared into one of the buildings or a bus. He was too late. Kurt tried texting him but he got no answer. He tried calling too, but on the second attempt Blaine's phone went straight to voice mail. He didn't want to talk to Kurt, evidently, and wasn't going to respond.

Kurt sighed and his shoulders sagged. He fell back against the building behind him and squeezed his eyes shut to try and stop the tears that were gathering. He'd fucked it up again. He'd wanted Blaine in his life so much; much more than he had realized. Blaine meant the world, and now that he was back and Kurt had the opportunity to even have him around, loosing that was losing more than Kurt could really stand. He let his head fall back against the wall and bounced it lightly against the bricks. Stupid. Stupid. Stupid. He shouldn't have let out the story so soon; he shouldn't have told him all at once and certainly he shouldn't have done what he did in the first place.

No grade, no class, no career was worth more than Blaine and what they had had together. And he'd thrown it all away for to save a career and prevent something that might never have even happened. It was all so frustratingly stupid he couldn't stand it. After a few minutes had past, Kurt tried Blaine's phone again to no avail. He would just have to wait it out evidently.

Days passed with no word from Blaine. Kurt continued to try to contact him. He tried through text and through calling, but Blaine wouldn't respond. He even tried blocking his number so Blaine couldn't see it was him, but Blaine still wouldn't answer. Every day when Kurt came home from work, he couldn't help but run his fingers over the felted wool of Blaine's jacket that he'd left by mistake in Kurt's apartment in his haste to leave.

After the fourth day of no contact from Blaine, Kurt picked up the coat on his way into the apartment and after he changed, brought it with him to the couch. He cuddled up to it, and just breathed in the smell of Blaine. It still lingered in the lining of the jacket, which Kurt couldn't help but notice was really worn and faded. He settled the jacket over a pillow on his couch and laid his head on it, enjoying allowing Blaine's scent to surround him and maybe letting himself pretend for just a few moments that it was Blaine he was leaning on, not some designer pillow and worn out jacket.

He adjusted his head on the pillow, pretending as much as he could it was Blaine. But there was a hard bit poking at him, making it hard to fall into what he wanted to believe was happening. He reached into Blaine's pocket and pulled out a small metal case with BA inscribed on the cover in scripted. He opened it to find a small stack of Blaine's business cards. Under Blaine Anderson was written, Smith, Williams and Carlson, Attorneys at Law. A phone number followed, and Kurt knew he'd found a way to find Blaine. As he pulled the cards out, a small key fell out from where it had been hidden behind.

Kurt finally found the building. It was down a side street that more resembled an alley than a street. It was dirty and narrow, filth and discarded rubbish lined the edges. He never would have walked down this street normally, would have deemed it dangerous or might not have even noticed it was there. Knowing it was Blaine's street, he made is way down it, although he thought twice and glanced around. He found the door easy enough. There was no doorman, and the entrance was locked when he tried the door. He wouldn't have come except when he talked to the law firm, they hadn't seen him in a few days either. The guise of calling as his brother had helped get that information out. He'd evidently called in sick a few days ago and no one had seen him or heard from him since.

He approached the building and stared at the brick, contemplating what he was going to do now. He didn't stand there long, though, because the neighborhood wasn't the best and he wasn't going to wait for someone to approach him. Kurt looked around for a buzzer, but there wasn't one, so he tried the door. It was open and there was no doorman. It was readily apparent that Blaine's apartment wasn't nearly as nice as Kurt's.

He fished the key from Blaine's case out of his pocket and tried it. As the key was fitting in the lock, realization hit Kurt and his head fell forward to hit the door. Of course. Blaine didn't have anyone else. He'd cut off from all his friends, and what little he had of a family. He had no significant other to look in on him. He was alone in the city and only Kurt knew that something was up with him. Kurt's eyes closed as he fumbled to get the door open, struggling with what to do. He had to find him today, that was all. He had to at least make sure he was okay. Kurt really didn't want to be responsible for him losing his job on top of everything else. It would be just too much, and he'd already taken everything else from Blaine.

Kurt remembered his trudge home from the office the night he called Blaine's firm, his heart heavier than he'd ever remembered. It had been even worse that the first time after they had 're-met.' Blaine knew about him now, knew how heartless and selfish he was. And now he wasn't wanted. It was really what he'd feared all along. He wasn't good enough for someone like Blaine. As he made his way up the steps in Blaine's apartment building, he turned over the conversation with Blaine's secretary a few times. She hadn't said that anyone else had called looking for him, and actually seemed puzzled that someone who wasn't a client was calling for Blaine. It seemed odd.

He knew what number he was looking for, but he checked the mailboxes just inside the door to make sure. Apartment 3F didn't have a name written on the tag, it was more of a scribble, but he could make out the A of Anderson, so he assumed he was right. The building was a walk up which surprised him, since Blaine had been in such bad shape that he didn't think he could have walked up three flights of stairs many of the times Kurt had seen him, but perhaps he had underestimated Blaine.

He made his way to the third floor, trying to ignore the general dinginess of the apartment building and the creaking of the old steps that needed replacing. 3F was down the hall and on the left. It was easy enough to find. Kurt stared at the peeling paint for a few moments, trying to decide if this was really the best route for him to take.

I hope you enjoyed this chapter. I understand a lot of it was repetitive but I figured after the break, it might be nice to ease back into it.

As for my break, again I apologize. I have a family member who was diagnosed with stage 4 pancreatic cancer. For those who don't know, with that disease it is usually a discussion of how many months left rather than a treatment plan. The family member, along with her husband and daughter (who is special needs) has moved in with my immediate family. It has been quite trying and a difficult adjustment for all. During these past months, I lost my will to write for a while.

Rest assured I have no intention of abandoning this story and I appreciate all of the heartfelt messages I have received.

Reviews are Christmas presents (and Festivus Presents!)

.