{Kurt}

Driving Cary's truck made Kurt feel a little safer. The rumble of the engine, the height of his seat over the rest of the traffic on the street cheered him a tiny bit. He was trying not to think about Jon's eyes passing like search lights over the front of his body as he took his phone to check it.

It took a minute to realize his fingers were shaking and his heart was going like they needed to run run run. Days in his father's house, when Kurt had edged around the aftermath of an explosion of Rob Klassen's temper until he could escape out the back door and get as far away as possible, were shaking in his chest. Kurt had promised himself he was never going back and here he was again.

There was no question in Kurt's mind that Jon was stronger than he was and Jon was more stubborn than he was—whatever Jon White wanted from him, he could crowd Kurt into a corner and just take it.

Kurt cranked up the heat, turning the vents on his shivering body. Jon wouldn't do that. He thought he wouldn't. But Kurt's track record with men wasn't great and he couldn't reason with his fear. He had thousands of days living with his father and Nicky compared to the handful living with Jon, and Jon didn't look different enough right now not to smush into the ball of every other controlling man Kurt had ever been with.

His hands were freezing; it felt like winter was just around the corner. Kurt stuffed them under his armpits while he waited for the light to turn, leaning against the steering wheel feeling his heartbeat drumming.

Kurt had scraped together just enough self-worth on his way out of those relationships to want to keep it. He wasn't doing this one more time. Someone did have to stand up for Kurt Visser, and the only person left to do that was Kurt himself. If he couldn't go toe to toe with Jon and make his voice heard, he was at least staying the hell away from the strength of Jon's will.

Their AA meeting wasn't for another hour, but Laurel had texted him to meet at the near-by McDonalds. As Kurt got out of the truck, he checked the parking lot for anyone he knew, any of Nicky's friends. Sighing, he grabbed the pony cap from Cary's backseat and jammed it over his hair, slouching as he crossed the parking lot so his height wasn't so obvious.

Laurel's daughter, Molly, was swinging from her hand as they stood in line, her curls bouncing. "Mommy mommy, can I get nuggies please please!"

"Sure baby, of course you can," Laurel said absent-mindedly. She caught sight of Kurt coming in and flashed him a smile. Her face was plain today, her hair pulled on top of her head in a messy mom-bun.

Kurt leaned down to air-kiss Laurel's cheeks. "This is fun," he drawled. "You brought my favourite baby girl."

Laurel rolled her eyes.

"Me too, me too!" Molly reached for him, and Kurt took a knee to air-kiss her chubby cheeks as well. Molly's fingers gripped his shoulders tight as she made exaggerated 'mmmwah' sounds in his ear. "I like your Twilight Sparkle hat, Auntie Kurt."

He tweaked the brim, his smile warming. "Thank you darlin'."

"Couldn't get a sitter tonight," Laurel said. "I won't make it to meeting, but a chit-chat with you is just as good. How are you?"

Kurt lifted his cap, grimacing as he shoved his hair underneath it. "It's been a day. Let's get our nuggies and I'll tell you all about it."

They sat side-by-side in the plastic swivel chairs attached to the table, refereeing Molly's chaotic toddler meal-time. The nudge of Laurel's generous arm next to his quieted Kurt's anxiety a little. They'd met at a party years ago, bonding over a tipsy conversation about hair product and the merits of mixed drinks. Laurel was the first person Kurt knew personally who'd sobered up and got her adult life back together, shortly after Molly's second birthday. Over the last couple years he'd found her friendship was weighty enough to withstand the high seas of all his drama with Nicky.

Molly barely stayed still long enough to get ketchup wiped off her fingers before running to the play area. Laurel had strategically chosen their table so they could watch her through the glass doors while finishing their own meal at a more civilized pace.

"I saw the bullshit Nicky threw up on social media," she said.

"Threw up is the word for it," Kurt said, checking behind him and scanning the faces in the restaurant. There was no one he recognized as a threat and he tried to tell himself to settle. "After everything that went down on Saturday I told him I was done with the band. I was hoping I could get out the back door without raising a fuss."

Laurel laughed shortly. "If there was a prize for sore losers, Nicky would sweep the competition. God, what a Grade A asshole." She stabbed a fry into her ketchup. "You must be feeling jumpy as hell."

Kurt lifted his shoulders. "It'll blow over, right?"

"Well his friends aren't exactly the brightest bulbs. Their attention span is as short as their dicks. Pretty sure in a couple of days some other drama will be making the news."

Kurt forced a laugh, his shoulders slumping. "Please God."

"How's Jon handling all this?" Her eyes touched his face curiously. Jon White was a subject of great interest to Laurel. Kurt thought she was still trying to figure him out. The feeling at this point was mutual.

"Oh he's handling it." Kurt didn't bother keeping the edge out of his voice. "He went over there today, scared the shit out of Nicky, re-po'd my stuff and is all up in my phone checking what's coming in. He doesn't fucking know the meaning of the words: let it go. This is not how we do things."

She pursed her lips, shaking more fries out of the paper cup. "He's probably worried about you. I would be if I was him. Nicky wasn't awesome when you were with him. I assume he knows at least some of that."

Kurt rubbed his buzzing ears, avoiding her eyes. If he was being honest with himself, Jon probably knew more than he'd told him in so many words. Living with Cary seemed to have made his boyfriend very tuned in to what Kurt's body had to say. "I don't need help handling Nicky," he muttered. "I've been managing his shit my entire adult life."

Laurel gave him a sympathetic smile. "Yeah you have, honey."

Another surge of anger rose in his chest. "He took my fucking phone Laurel. Sent messages to Nicky from me."

"All men are assholes." She shook her head, her messy bun bobbing back and forth while she hunted for the perfect fry. "For a hot second I thought you'd found one who was different."

Kurt put his elbows on the table, exhaling and flicking tears out of his eyes. "Christ I'm so stupid. I told myself I was done with assholes. I made a pact with you that we were done." He tried to laugh, but it broke and Laurel put her arm around him, squeezing him against her soft body.

"Look at us now," she said, glancing up at the play space and following Molly climbing through the netted tunnel.

Kurt sighed, leaning into the side-hug. "You were right."

"Mm? I usually am, but what about?"

"I shouldn't have moved in with him." He swiped his face dry with the sleeve of Cary's jacket. "I need to get out of his face and sort my shit out."

She was quiet, her strawberry blond eyebrows knitted as she looked at him.

"Do you think I'm fucking this up?" Kurt asked, throwing his hands up expressively.

Laurel rolled her eyes ruefully. "Have you seen me lately?" She brushed her fingers over her belly. "How would I know? God, if some nice man invited me to move into his house, I'd jump his bones in a heartbeat. At least this time I can guarantee I won't get pregnant for the next six months. You're lucky you don't have to worry about making an extra human when you get down with your boyfriend."

Kurt had a dozen mixed feelings about that sentence. It didn't seem fair that it was so easy for Laurel to make a baby when she didn't really want them. Not that she wasn't an attentive mom--she'd sobered up for Molly and was doing her damnedest to keep showing up for her. But he knew Laurel regretted her latest pregnancy, the consequence of a fling with a dude who 'didn't like condoms' and apparently also didn't like actual relationships or taking responsibility for his actions. Kurt didn't want to be with a woman, but on some level he grieved that his body couldn't miraculously produce 'extra humans' and his partner's was going to be just as limited.

"I'm not getting down with my boyfriend anytime soon," he said grumpily, folding his arms over his body. "Kurt Visser is calling a time out."

*What do you think of Laurel's response, 'All men are assholes'? I was thinking about how our friends are loyal, but they only have their own experiences to draw from. Sometimes they're not wise...*

{Jon}

The only high point of Jon's day was the run he took in the ravine as the sun glanced through the trees on its way to bed. The crunch of his feet on the path, the burn of his muscles and lungs completely absorbed his attention for fifty-five minutes and he didn't think about anything else. When he stepped into River House for his night shift he was hoping to find a mess in the living room and a series of crises to keep him from thinking about anything to do with his personal life.

Unfortunately, Angel and Patrick were an efficient team. The house was spotless, and even the office had been tidied and the desk wiped down. Angel met him on her way through the kitchen, zipping up a cozy hoodie that appeared to be a Frankenstein of multiple sweaters sewn and pinned together. "Evening boss. Hey, do you follow Kurt Klassen's band?"

Stomach squeezing, Jon nodded once, his mouth flat and neutral.

"There was a huge flame war on social media today. The drummer? Made a detailed laundry list of grievances with Kurt and I thought the whole Edmonton community page was going to catch on fire, with people taking sides one way or another."

Jon closed his eyes briefly, taking a slow breath in. He'd been trying not to look since this afternoon. "What did Kurt have to say for himself?" he heard himself ask, distantly.

"Nothing," Angel said. "He never chimed in. When I went back this evening I couldn't find him or the band page. Poof."

He let out his breath, his stomach easing. Good for you, Visser. Once again, Kurt had done a better job than he had of de-escalating the situation.

Angel laughed a little. "I guess they've had a lover's quarrel." She gave him a keen look. "At the concert I thought the two of you—might have been friends."

Jon turned his body aside, sweeping imaginary crumbs off the counter. There was no need to lie about this much. "Yeah we were. When we were kids. Kurt was in church youth group with me, if you can imagine that."

She didn't laugh. "I can, actually. There's a thoughtful side to his lyrics, isn't there. Sometimes the way he sings about love—I feel like it would be easy to swap out the word and replace it with God."

He glanced at her from the corner of his eyes. He'd noticed that too. Everything about this conversation felt like pressing a bruise. "Anything I need to know about tonight?

She shook her head, pulling her toque over her pink hair. "All's quiet."

He nodded, unable to find a smile in exchange for hers. "See you tomorrow, Angel."

"Night, boss."

Jon spent the night trying numb out playing Minesweeper on his computer. No one was answering his emails in the middle of the night. When his phone rang in his pocket, it was already 2 a.m.. He pulled it out, his heart-rate picking up seeing Kurt's name. He slid his finger across the screen to answer the call. "It's me," he said.

"Hey." Kurt cleared his throat. He sounded hoarse and unsteady.

Jon stepped away from the computer desk and went to the kitchen. "I'm just putting on tea for a break. Have you slept yet?"

"Think so," Kurt said. "Just wanted to check the doors again. Um. You have your key? Course you have your key. You're a responsible human."

Jon's stomach squeezed, hearing the anxiety in his boyfriend's voice. "Yeah I have my key. I used it yesterday to get in, and the day before." He paused, realizing this meant Kurt had been checking and locking the doors for days. Usually he and Cary left the back door open. "You okay?"

"Yup," Kurt said quickly. "Yup yup. Didn't mean to bother you, White. Carry on." He hung up.

Jon tucked his phone back in his pocket, knuckling his dry eyes. He felt a little like throwing up, and a little like cutting, which was worrying. He rubbed the skin on his arm, reassuring himself that the faint lines under his fingers were good and closed. He hadn't wanted to open his skin in some time but he needed something to interrupt how shitty this felt right now. He was pretty sure he'd broken what he'd had with Kurt and he didn't know how to fix it.

Taking a steadying breath, he made the tea, made his body run through a series of warrior poses in the darkened kitchen while it steeped. Back in the office, he put on a playlist Kurt had made him and buried himself in an incredibly boring spreadsheet of petty cash receipts.

It felt like very little time had passed when his phone buzzed against his stomach again. He pulled it out, fumbling it in his haste. "Kurt?"

He caught the sound of a breathy swear before Kurt said, "Sorry to bug you again." His voice was small and muffled. "Christ—I wasn't gonna call you tonight."

"It's okay," Jon said quickly. "I don't mind." Tears pricked his eyes at the sound of Kurt trying to smother his crying.

(Nightmares were back, shit. That was on him.)

"Want me to read you some boring emails to fall back asleep?" Jon asked.

Kurt made a cracked noise that might have been a laugh.

Jon scrolled up on his computer screen, his heart a lump in his throat. "Here's one about disposable gloves. Apparently latex allergies are on the rise? These are stretchy and colourful and I'm ordering three hundred."

Kurt's laugh was unsteady, but more recognizable.

Jon shook tears out of his eyes quick. "Uhh...here's another one. Looks like I need to book parent-teacher interviews. They're using some kind of online registration thingy? And I have to figure it out. Because that's why they pay me the big bucks."

He listened to Kurt trying to slow his breathing. "Is Misty with you?"

There was a rustling noise. "Sleeping by my knees but she's pretty annoyed right now that I keep moving around. I think I need her on my chest and like, one-hundred-eighty pounds."

Jon made a dry noise. "That's a picture."

The other man's chuckle was faint, but the sound put some heart into Jon. Covering his eyes with his hand, Jon asked the question that was squeezing like a fist around his throat. "Are you more afraid because of what happened today? Your yesterday, my today?"

It was quiet, and then Kurt said, a little far away. "Hasn't been a great night. But he's done shit like this before." Jon heard him swallow. "It'll die down."

Jon pushed to his feet and paced the step to the tiny office window, and then to the door. He'd made a dozen assumptions in as many hours—this time he checked himself with an honest question. "Do you think Nicky will come after you for real?"

Kurt exhaled. "No." He sounded flat and tired. "He plays rough but he's not a beater. Just shit like this. Getting everyone stirred up 'til I don't know who my friends are. Some of the band's friends, on the other hand, are batshit crazy. Not gonna lie—I'm checking my shoulder for them. But they have short attention spans." He snorted softly.

Jon held the phone away from his mouth to take a slow breath, thinking about Kurt walking out the door this evening, alone. The hair on the back of his neck prickled; he'd never been so afraid, not even at King Henry. And he couldn't go everywhere with Kurt to protect him. The other man needed to live his life.

"I hate that Nicky did this." Jon's voice was rough with that fear, and his anger that anyone could still make him afraid. "This has been the worst day of my life."

Kurt's sigh gusted in his ear and there was a long quiet. "I think I'm getting my own place," he said.

Jon froze in the middle of the office, pushing the phone so hard his ear ached.

"Something nicer than the shit hole I was in last time." Kurt's voice became more energized, sounding the most normal he had all night. "I saw a For Rent sign up by the library on my way to meeting today. I'm going to check it out tomorrow. Could be just the thing."

Jon covered his mouth, shutting his eyes.

"White, I've spent most of my life under someone's thumb and I think I need to sort my shit out a bit. Give you some space to do your thing."

"Just a sec," Jon managed. "I'll call you back."

He threw the phone away from him, his heart hammering and his fists clenched for a fight.

Who was he going to punch to make this better? With a raw noise, Jon pulled his arms over his head to take a punch instead.

He'd known Kurt was going to leave. He'd said he wouldn't hold him...but now? Now, when Kurt was more vulnerable than ever?

(Was he really going to be one more asshole leaving marks on Kurt Visser with how hard he gripped him to make him do what he wanted?)

Shuddering, Jon took deep gulping breaths. He wasn't stupid; he could see how close he'd come already to just taking over Kurt's life. He'd crossed some lines today—his conscience burned thinking of Kurt chucking his old phone at him to check it. Jon was still figuring out where exactly he'd fucked up, and what was Nicky's fault for being an even bigger asshole than him.

He didn't trust himself to be as good as Kurt deserved over the phone. Shaking out his fists, Jon made his trembling fingers type out the right thing to say:

<Sounds really good for you Kurt. Take whatever you need *gold heart*>

Balling up on the couch, Jon put a news' channel on mute to watch the talking heads and scrolling ticker tape of bigger problems than his own. His eyes ached but he was dry as stone. It was four in the morning—was this part of the same day he'd pulled up in Nicky's driveway and tripped a bomb in the middle of his relationship? Because if so, it was going down as the worst day in his life.

3323 words.

Mistyyyy 🖤

*Thanks CarliePagens for lending the guys your furry & elegant Misty cat ♡*