{Jon}

As Jon stepped out of his last class of the semester on Wednesday, he felt his spirits lift. He had a text in his phone from Kurt, a selfie of his partner's expressive face grinning at their stove.

<dinner date chez moi tonight *red heart* looking forward to seeing you love>

All week it had felt to Jon like Kurt was between him and the ledge, his partner's body warm and solid in the dark. It was December ninth and here he was stepping into the winter sunshine, unmedicated, skin intact. Jon was the only person who knew what a miracle that was.

The weekend loomed ahead of him like a boss fight, but he wasn't allowing himself to look directly at that. There was no way to know if he would have enough to make it through those days; he just knew he had enough for today, for tonight with Kurt.

Sniffing as he entered the house, Jon tried to identify the cooking smells; something warm and buttery was roasting in the kitchen. He followed his nose, finding Kurt wrapped in a ruffled apron, browning butter on the stove.

"Smells amazing," Jon said. "What are you cooking?"

Kurt's blue eyes flashed him a smile. "Hey love. I'm hoping this tastes remotely like my Grandma Visser's blomkahlsuppe. Uh--and I bought apricot bread in a moment of weakness before I remembered you can't have flour."

There was a gorgeous loaf studded with dried fruit next to the candles on the table, and Jon felt himself bubbling with curiosity, which was a refreshing change. "What is bloom-coal-suppuh?" Jon asked, fumbling through the pronunciation.

Kurt chuckled. "Roasted cauliflower soup. All the vegetables, all the dairy for my partner. There's hard-boiled eggs for your protein."

Jon tucked his body behind Kurt's, putting his cheek next to his shoulder to watch him stir the sizzling butter. Kurt's apron front said 'Kiss Me I'm Danish' and Jon obliged, kissing him on the cheek. "I enjoy this side of you," he said.

"You're just hungry," Kurt said.

Jon laughed quietly. "You're not wrong. But I'll take one of your kitchen creations over a Freshii wrap any day. Finished my classes this afternoon. Not gonna miss eating in the food fair one bit."

"Well there you go," Kurt said. "Proud of you, White."

Jon shrugged; he still had a final papers and three exams to go, but for the moment the smells and sensations of being with Kurt in their kitchen had crowded those responsibilities right out of his head.

The doorbell rang, followed by a light knock, and Jon padded to get it. He blinked at his sister standing on their porch, hugging her elbows in her puffy yellow parka.

"Hey Bea, were we expecting you?"

She shook her head, her baggy hat bobbing over her unhappy face. "Can I stay for supper? Mom said look after ourselves and dad's working late. Tab-May has practice so I asked her to drop me off here."

Jon's stomach sank; it was a scenario that was very familiar and it stung him that since he and Cary didn't live at home anymore, Bea had been left to fend for herself this week. "Come on in," he said, making a smile. "Cary can run you home for bed."

"Cary's at art class 'til eight," Kurt called from the kitchen. "But I can be the White family taxi." His face lit up when Bea came shyly into the kitchen. "Bea White, are you here for dinner? Two weeks in a row, we're so honored."

Bea's hunched shoulders relaxed down from her ears and she smiled at Kurt. "Hey Kurt. I like your apron."

"I have a weakness for ruffles," Kurt said, chuckling as he took the pan off the heat.

Jon leaned in the doorway, his body too restless now to sit. "Are things okay at home? Mom's feeding you? Dad's home for your bedtime?"

She glanced sideways at him and he hated seeing the lines of strain around her eyes. "We don't need Mom to feed us; May can cook and so can I. I just--didn't want to be alone in the house. I mean, Mom's home but she's..." she rubbed her eyes, her mouth pressed flat. "...you know. She's sad."

He did know. Jon crossed the kitchen and put his arms around her, hugging her close. Bea's head came past his shoulder now; she wasn't going to stay child-sized for much longer. "Hey," he said. "Come over anytime, okay? Just send a text and one of us will pick you up."

He felt her breath catch and she hung onto his sweater. "I just wish I could help more," she said, her voice breaking. "Why are they so sad? They have all of us. Why aren't we enough, Jon?"

At the stove, Kurt's hands flew to his mouth, his blue eyes filling with tears.

Jon's arms tightened around Bea and he set his feet wide, like he was going to pick her up and carry her to bed like he had when she was small. He turned his face to speak in her ear. "Don't take that on, Honey Bea." His voice was rough but his eyes were dry. It was an old wound for him, clean and closed but still deeply tender, and he felt the pain of it again with his little sister crying in his arms. He took a breath, stroking the tangle of hair on the back of her head. "You're enough, Bea, okay? We can't replace Judah--just be your best self. Mom and Dad will pull through this. They do every year."

She nodded against his shoulder, sniffling. He pulled back to look at her tearful, heart-shaped face, brushing tears off her cheeks with his knuckles. "I love you and God loves you and Mom and Dad love you--even though it might not feel like it right now."

She sighed, closing her eyes. "Sorry for crying," she said in a small voice. "I know you hate that."

Jon's forehead wrinkled. "I don't completely hate it. Cry if you need to, Honey Bee. I cry too sometimes."

Bea laughed shakily. "I'm glad you're my brother and not Judah."

It cut Jon to the quick, because he was also glad and it felt irrationally like a terrible thing to be glad about, as if in some parallel universe he could have died instead of Judah.

"You could have had us both," he said drily. "That's all. If cancer wasn't such a bitch."

Kurt was slapping tears out of his eyes, sniffing as he dumped pureed cauliflower and broth into the butter pan with a loud 'sputter.' "Well I think we need to eat," he said, and Jon was more grateful than he knew how to say that Kurt was getting them past this shitty moment. "Get out the bowls, Honey Bee. I bought us some beautiful bread and you're the only person who can help me finish it."

At the table, Kurt looked across at him to say the grace and for a second, meeting his eyes, Jon felt like words were buried too deep under anger and grief to unearth them.

Kurt quickly bowed his head and said, "Thanks Creator for this food and people to share it with, amen."

Jon rubbed his face, swallowing on his tight throat.

Bea made a happy noise as she slurped her soup and followed it with a bite of bread. "Mmmmm so good Kurt."

"If we were in my Grandma Visser's kitchen she would have pepper cookies for us to have for dessert," Kurt said, narrowing his eyes in a smile.

"Pepper cookies?" Bea laughed and made a face. "Those sound terrible!"

"Nuh-uh the best ever. You'll see," Kurt said. "I'll make 'em for next time."

The warm, savoury soup eased the tightness in Jon's throat, and when his stomach was full it felt like he had enough in him to push through another twenty-four hours. He was, however, out of words for the day. He spent the evening working the heavy bag in the basement, his feet dancing as he punched all the hurt out through his arms, sweat dripping off his body like tears. He just had time for a second bowl of soup after his shower, quietly enjoying the sound of Bea and Kurt chattering over a game of cards in the background.

Kurt found him in the darkened front hall, as he was putting on his jacket. "White," he said quietly, and Jon glanced at him. His partner just put his arms around him, holding him without saying a word. After a second, Jon's arms came up to hug him back.

Kurt let him go, narrowing his eyes warmly at Jon. "See you in the morning?"

Jon nodded, half his mouth smiling as he zipped his jacket. "Can't wait," he said softly.

{Kurt}

Between Jon's night shifts and Kurt's day shifts the time that Kurt could steal with his partner was fleeting; there was little chance for stories if Jon even seemed up for talking. In the small hours of morning, his partner slipped into his bed, waking him with caressing hands and putting his mouth on his without words. Kurt did the best he could to absorb through his skin that Jon cared for him and tell him the same as tenderly as he knew how. He felt like he put his shoulder under the thousand pounds Jon was carrying and just did what he could to lift the load with him.

When they had been in high school he had thought of Jon almost every day and, with Jon not taking his texts and no one he could talk to about his feelings, Kurt had kept up a running stream of consciousness in his head like maybe Someone was listening who could reach Jon to look after him. This habit had waned as he drank more and more heavily with his friends; his mind become too jumbled and bent towards a thirst for the next time he could get wasted to think about much of anything else. At the time he would have said he preferred that.

Seven months sober, Kurt's head had never been more clear and he wouldn't have traded that clarity for anything. He found himself returning to that old habit of...he guessed he would just go ahead and call it prayer. Whenever his thoughts turned to Jon, wrung with sadness and worry, he felt as if he hauled his partner to Grandma Visser's table, pulled up a chair and plunked Jon down to rest there with her, safe and cared for. In these moments he tasted the sweetness of Grandma Visser's love for him too, the love that had filled him up that afternoon holding Jon in a bare campus stairwell.

As difficult as it was for Kurt to admit he knew it was more than a memory. Someone even better than his grandma had heard the voice of his heart and turned unwavering, loving attention on Kurt. Someone big like Darla Kickingbird's Creator had noticed him. Kurt was a little baffled every time he went to pray and found that Person smiling at him...baffled and shy as a kid with a crush. Kurt loved to be loved. It was rare enough in his experience that he couldn't get enough. On a week when his partner felt half there, Kurt found himself leaning into a deep sense that he was still seen and held. He had expected that feeling to be as changeable as his own feelings, but so far Love had held him steady.

*The shift in Kurt towards a prayer habit was really interesting to me, and unexpected. What do you think of his picture of the Person who hears his prayers?

*In her book 'Come as you are' sex therapist Emily Nagoski describes a spectrum of responses to stress and how that impacts our sexual desire. (100% recommend this book to every gender and orientation!) She uses the term white-liners and red-liners. In times of stress white-liners are less interested in sex; it's hard for them to become aroused by the usual enjoyable things with their partner. In contrast, red-liners are more easily aroused in times of stress. Red-liners turn to sex as a positive way of coping with stress and blowing off steam.

Since Jon did a bunch of work in high school to overcome self-hating and self-harming behaviors, his body has become one of the places he feels most safe. Before he had a partner Jon loved working out, doing Jui Jitsu and yoga to get those endorphins going (he still does...he just likes making out with Kurt more lol). In this stressful week it becomes obvious that Jon is a red-liner: he doesn't want to talk about the difficult stuff going on inside him, he just wants to release that stress through sexy fun-times with Kurt. Their intimate body connection is a short cut that works for him.

Normally the guys are really well-matched in terms of how interested each of them is in physical and emotional intimacy; they like sharing stories and making out equally. That's been a real strength of their relationship and both those activities knit them close over these months together. Now they're out of sync and you have to ask yourself... how long can Kurt go without a feelings conversation with his partner? And for that matter, how long can Jon go carrying all this alone? I love sexy fun-times as much as the next person but they are not a cure-all for the big hurts in our hearts.

Thanks for your reads, votes and comments lovelies! This project is such a bright spot in my COVID winter <3 *

1892 words.