21. (Klaine Future Reunion Fic, spoilery kinda, PG-13)
It’s Blaine’s 21st birthday—the perfect time to hash things out.
AN: This is my “worst-case scenario” fic, where I took the idea that the writers will hold off on a reunion for as long as possible (speculation only!) and decided to just skip to the end. So it’s sad (I cried while writing it, which was very cathartic) but it has a happy ending if that’s what you’re here for.
xoxoxoxoxox
It’s Blaine’s twenty-first birthday, and he’s not going down without a fight. He’s been to ten bars at his last count, and he’s minutes away from closing the one he’s in now. It’s a small bar, narrow like most buildings in New York are, dark, quieter than he would’ve expected—perfect for talking while drinking. Which is what he’s doing, tucked into the booth in the furthest corner of the room, watching the bartender begin the task of shutting the place down. He’s exhausted, plastered, his hair is unkempt. There is no place he’d rather be.
“Last call,” the bartender says, with a pointed look in Blaine’s direction. Blaine leans into the shoulder next to him.
“I think he hates me,” Blaine whispers. The shoulder shakes with laughter.
“Nonsense,” Kurt trills gaily. “No one could hate you. It’s scientifically proven.”
“You did,” Blaine says, too drunk to regret re-opening the long-ignored wounds stitched together between them. Kurt gulps down the rest of his drink.
