Kurt wishes time would stop or even slow down for a moment. He never thought he would feel like this, but he actually misses the days before Blaine found that hair on the envelope, the slow days with an anonymous letter here and there and with Blaine always in his personal space.

But now time seems to fly, with serious conversations and preparations and rehearsals and worried phone calls and trips to the venue and to the police station. Blaine is still in his personal space, but his face is a bit drawn most of the time, most likely because too much is happening at the same time and Blaine is wishing time would stop as well.

Kurt doesn't blame Blaine for being nervous or worried. He's pretty nervous and worried himself, clinging to Blaine extra tightly when they wake up in the mornings and almost having a nervous breakdown when he can't find his favorite tie immediately one evening. Blaine doesn't show his own anxiety as clearly, but Kurt can still see it, lodged between Blaine's eyebrows and twitching in his fingers when he's lying otherwise completely still.

Somehow Blaine still manages to ease Kurt's feelings, rubs his hand down Kurt's back, a little hesitantly but nonetheless, finds his tie and gives him a small smile, and those little gestures are what make Kurt hope that time would move even faster and that everything at the concert would go as smoothly as Levinson has planned. If it does, Blaine won't be his bodyguard anymore. There will be no professional relationship between them, and Blaine will be just a friend, just an incredible and kind and wonderful human-being...

Whom Kurt has fallen for.

He doesn't know when it happened, doesn't have any idea when he stopped fighting against the feelings that have been growing inside of him for weeks. Perhaps it was when Blaine opened up completely and Kurt suddenly understood him, understood his motives and reasons, saw the whole person behind the bodyguard exterior. Or perhaps it was already when he woke up in Blaine's arms for the first time, when he felt like everything was right in the world. Or perhaps it was any of those moments when Blaine has played his guitar, sang along to the radio or danced in a silly way while doing the dishes. Kurt doesn't know how or when or why it happened; he just knows that he has fallen for Blaine Anderson and the only things standing between him blurting out his feelings to him are their professional relationship and the stupid anonymous stalker.

Kurt doesn't even know if Blaine feels the same way, but he thinks he might – unless that's just his hopeless romantic speaking. They sleep on the same bed, they hold hands, they hug, they sit impossibly close to each other, and Kurt can't help thinking that it's not exactly something that friends do, especially when Blaine's touch still makes spark run up his arm. Especially when Blaine sometimes looks like he wants to do more, wants to be even closer to Kurt, but he stops himself before he acts, like the professionalism is an actual barrier between their bodies.

Kurt understands it. He knows that Blaine is afraid of letting himself go, of failing, and keeping the small distance is his way of staying in control. Kurt can respect that. But if there was no professionalism, no reason for Blaine to think he could fail, they could be... Kurt doesn't even dare to voice that thought. The fact just is that Blaine is the most interesting and amazing person Kurt has ever met and he desperately wishes he was his.

... Not that he wants to own Blaine or something, nothing like that. But if everything goes well in the concert, if the stalker is caught and Kurt can move on with his life, the first thing he's going to do is to tell Blaine how he feels. He wants to move on with Blaine. He wants them to move on together, and isn't that an exciting thought in the middle of all the nervousness and fear and anxiety?

Time, however, doesn't slow or stop; it speeds past, and before Kurt even realizes it it's Saturday and he's standing backstage, hiding behind the heavy curtains and peering into the buzzing concert hall. The set designer Kurt mentioned to Blaine earlier is currently playing an old Broadway classic on the stage with a shining grand piano, having already played one short classical piece and gotten a thunderous applause from the audience. The orchestra is playing softly behind the man, and if Kurt didn't know Lucas he would wonder why on earth he gave up on piano in the first place.

He'd actually asked Lucas about it one day, several months ago when they were working on a project together. Lucas had shrugged.

"I figured that I can always be good at several things. I can be a good piano player, I can be an okay cook, I can be a mediocre singer and an average football player – but set design is my passion. The thing I want to do the most. Playing piano is relaxing and it will always be a part of me, but set design is the one thing that keeps me going, you know?"

Kurt does know.

He tears his eyes from Lucas' fingers flowing over the keys and looks at the audience. He can see Rachel and Wes in one corner – Rachel is wearing a stunning red dress (approved by Kurt, of course) and Wes has his phone pressed against his ear and a frown on his face. Kurt tries not to think about the reason for that frown too much. He can see Levinson and the other police officers and guards moving slowly around the hall, looking like ordinary guests to everyone else, except that some of them have an earpiece peeking out under their hair and collar. Then again, some of the organizers have earpieces as well, so Levinson wasn't lying when he said that the guards would blend in perfectly. Even Kurt wouldn't recognize them if he hadn't met them before and exchanged a few words with them before the concert.

It's unreal to think that all those people are there to make sure that Kurt is safe, that they're here because of him, and Kurt can feel his heart starting to beat faster once again, right after he'd managed to calm it down for the fifth time. Of course he wants people to notice his talent, his costumes and his achievements – but he doesn't want them to worry about him or go through extra lengths for him. He wants to be safe, but after all those times in high school when no one seemed to care whether he was safe or not, it's weird to suddenly have his own army of security guards watching over him.

Felicia appears next to him and touches his shoulder gently. "Lucas is going to play one more song, and then we'll call you out on the stage."

"Okay." Kurt takes a deep breath. "How are the... Have you gotten any donations yet?" Focus on the practicalities, yes, that's a good idea.

Felicia smiles. "We have. I think this concert is going to be a success."

"That's great." Kurt allows himself to grin for a moment. Felicia gives him a thumbs up and leaves him to wring his hands, his fingers moving restlessly over the knuckles of his other hand and brushing the sleeves of his shirt. He's wearing gold pants and a metallic blazer, clothes that he himself designed to attract attention and to show that Kurt Hummel doesn't let anyone get him down. They're like an armor, like a costume that's keeping him together, and he feels safe in them. He has always felt safe in his own designs.

Lucas finishes the song to a thundering applause and then starts talking about his profession as a set designer and how that gave him the inspiration for the songs he's playing tonight. Kurt sighs and looks away. He shouldn't worry this much. Levinson has promised that his men and women are good people and that they will catch the stalker if he shows up. Still, the combination of mild stage fright and not-so-mild oh god my stalker could be out there panic isn't exactly a good one.

Blaine is standing a few feet from him, wearing a discreet black suit, his own earpiece barely visible. He has more gel in his curls than Kurt has ever seen, his hair tamed into submission under a thick amount of shining gel, and he's keeping his posture straight and still. He's the epitome of a bodyguard to anyone who doesn't know him, but Kurt can see Blaine's finger tapping nervously against his thigh. He can't see Blaine as a bodyguard, not anymore.

He can see just Blaine.

"I'm afraid I'm going to trip over my own legs when I walk out there," Kurt says with a nervous laugh.

Blaine turns to look at him and smiles. "Don't be ridiculous. You're going to amaze them all."

Kurt blushes. "So you don't think the gold pants are a bit too much?"

"Do you?"

"No. Of course not." Kurt raises his chin with a grin. "I am the greatest star, and my clothes should reflect that."

Blaine tilts his head, taking another look of Kurt's clothes. "Then I have to agree with you."

Kurt smiles back at him. Is this flirting? Are they flirting with each other? Is Blaine thinking about moving on together as well? Lucas is playing the piano on the stage behind them, a soft melody echoing through the backstage and the hall, and Kurt suddenly thinks how romantic this scene could be if it wasn't for the nervous energy still running through his veins like a stream of freezing water.

Blaine takes a step towards him and fiddles with his ear piece with a smile. "I've never worn one of these before."

"You look very professional," Kurt jokes, but the words make Blaine's smile falter a little for a reason Kurt doesn't quite understand. He thought they were past this already. "I mean – you look great. You really do. That suit fits well."

Blaine rubs the back of his head with his hand. "Thanks." He cranes his neck and nods towards the stage. "You're up next, aren't you?"

"Yeah." Kurt gives a small laugh. "Three songs plus some small talk between them, no big deal."

"Are you nervous?" Blaine asks.

Kurt flexes his hands. "Of course. But not because I'm performing. I'm a lot more nervous every time a bunch of actors in costumes I have designed for them marches on the stage on an opening night. It's just..." He averts his eyes. "Knowing that he could be there. That he could be watching me, planning god knows what, and what if Levinson doesn't notice him, what if he's wearing some sort of disguise or what if he doesn't even show up, what if this has all been for nothing and I can't move on and I'm stuck with this stupid stalker forever and –"

"No, Kurt, stop." Blaine grabs his shoulders, holding him in place. "Stop that. It's going to be fine. You said you trusted me, so trust me on this one, okay? That anonymous stalker, he can't..." Blaine rubs his hands soothingly over Kurt's arms. "He can't touch you, or what you have. So don't let him."

Blaine's eyes are steady and calm, so sure and reassuring that Kurt can feel the panic deflate. "Okay," he breathes. "Okay. I'm just going to... take it easy."

"That sounds like a good idea." Blaine smiles. "And I'm here for you, alright? I'm going to keep you safe no matter what. And so are Levinson and all those other cops and security guards."

"I know. I just... I'm not used to something like this." Kurt waves his hand in the air, gesturing towards the thick curtains and the crowd in the concert hall. "I'm used to working in my own office, to drawing sketches and taking measurements and making sure everything matches. I'm not used to set-ups like this." He worries his lip between his teeth, a nervous habit he's had ever since he was a child.

Blaine swallows in front of him, and then his eyes dart briefly to Kurt's lips, his pupils dilated in the dim lighting of the backstage. Kurt is suddenly reminded of that rainy night after Geoffrey's birthday party, of standing impossibly close to Blaine in the dark hallway, of Blaine's warm breath ghosting over his own lips. But Blaine doesn't lean closer this time; he just lifts his gaze back to Kurt's eyes and gives a reassuring smile.

"I don't think anyone could get used to a set-up like this," Blaine says, as if he didn't just look at Kurt's lips, and Kurt almost kisses him right there and then, desperate to suddenly feel Blaine so much closer. He's going to perform in front of a packed concert hall and his crazy anonymous stalker – surely he deserves one kiss before that ordeal?

Blaine straightens the collar of Kurt's blazer. "But we're going to catch that stalker and put him away so that he can never bother you again, and you're going to go out there, and I know for a fact that you're going to be amazing. You're Kurt Hummel, how could you not be?" He says the words with such faith, such reverence, that Kurt has to duck his head. It's overwhelming how much faith Blaine seems to have in him, but it makes Kurt feel stronger than he has in years.

Lucas is playing the last notes of his song on the stage and it's Kurt’s turn soon, and if he's not going to get a kiss, he's going to at least get a hug. He flings his arms around Blaine, buries his face in the nook of Blaine's neck and breathes in Blaine's scent, the soft scent of his shampoo, of hair gel and something clean and warm. It takes a moment, but then Blaine's arms wrap themselves around Kurt as well, holding him in place, and Kurt closes his eyes, trying to memorize everything about Blaine to keep him strong when he walks on that stage.

"This better go well. I really want to move on already," Kurt whispers against Blaine's skin.

Blaine tenses almost unnoticeably under his arms, but whatever vocal reaction he gives is lost under Lucas' final note and the roar of the applause. Blaine squeezes Kurt one last time and then unwraps his arms gently. Kurt steps back almost involuntarily, wishing he could just skip the concert and hold Blaine in his arms for the rest of his life. It's not like he needs his arms for anything else anyway. He could probably draw designs with his toes or something. He's pretty flexible.

Blaine's eyes are shining for some odd reason but his smile is still encouraging and warm. "Go on then. Go show them what Kurt Hummel is made of. Try not to worry about the stalker for a moment and just... shine."

"Will you be here? Will you wait for me?" Kurt asks. The applause has quieted and Lucas walks past them, grinning at Kurt and disappearing towards his own dressing room. The host is introducing Kurt to the audience, and Kurt knows he has to go, he has to go sing his heart out and face everything in a few seconds, but he needs to know Blaine will be here when he's done.

Blaine's smile widens but something about it is off, like he's hiding something. "Of course I will. I'll be right here. That's what I'm here for."

"... So here he is, the costume designer who's going to get very far – Kurt Hummel!"

Kurt grins at Blaine, not having enough time to ask him what's wrong anymore, not with the crowd already cheering. Kurt can hear Rachel's excited scream over everyone else's, so he starts to back away towards the stage, keeping his eyes on Blaine for a moment longer.

"Wish me luck. In every sense of the word," he says, a little breathless already. He can feel the warmth of the spotlights on his back and he should turn any second now, but he needs to see Blaine, he needs to see his smile before he faces the crowd and his stalker.

"Good luck. Not that you need it." Blaine's voice is loud enough for Kurt to hear it over the applause, and then there's Blaine's smile, calming and encouraging like it was all those months ago in Kurt's hallway and Kurt grins back at him, already thinking about how he can perhaps hug or even kiss Blaine after this concert, how he can finally say what he feels.

He turns his back on Blaine and walks on the stage, faces the audience and the blinding spotlights. He can do this. For Blaine. For the possibilities of them.

-

As soon as Kurt turns his back and the spotlights reach his grinning face, Blaine's own smile falters and falls away. He feels a weird sense of emptiness inside of himself. Perhaps it's the part of him that's already preparing for a life without Kurt, for a life where he has to let Kurt go and let him shine on his own, without a bodyguard holding him down and reminding him of the awful months of his life when an anonymous fan stalked him. That's what Kurt seems to want and what he most certainly deserves.

Blaine is good at burying his own feelings deep down and not letting them out into broad daylight. He knew that caring about Kurt would hurt, he knew that he would only crash and burn, but he still did it. And he doesn't regret it; he could never regret anything about Kurt.

He only wishes that he could move on as well.

He shakes his head a little and looks at Kurt who is standing in the middle of stage and talking about the first song he's going to sing. Kurt makes a joke and the audience laughs, the bright lights are dancing on the blazer and on the gold pants Kurt is wearing, making him literally shine in front of the crowd, just like Blaine said he would.

Blaine smiles wistfully for a moment and then focuses. He lets his eyes scan the audience, or at least what he can see of it between the curtains. Wes catches his eye across the room and shakes his head, the message clear, and Blaine huffs. He really wants the stalker to be caught tonight. Blaine could never hope that the stalker would not show up just so he himself could have a few more days with Kurt. No, Blaine wants to put the stalker behind bars, wants to make him disappear from Kurt's life, no matter that it means Kurt moving on and Blaine getting left behind. He can deal with that. He can't deal with Kurt looking any sadder.

Blaine shrugs towards Wes, even if he can't probably see him, and continues scanning the room. He has memorized each little detail of the stalker's face, but the only faces he recognizes from the crowd are Wes and Rachel and a bunch of police officers. No stalker.

As the orchestra starts playing the first notes of Maybe This Time Blaine allows himself a small smile. Somehow he knew that this would be Kurt's first song. He knew Kurt would sing something from Cabaret, tell the audience some story of the costumes he designed for it and then show them that he might as well acted in the show. It's fitting, and Blaine knows Kurt likes it when things fit.

He glances towards Kurt swaying on the stage. He's heard Kurt sing this song before, but that was in a dingy bar with a scratchy karaoke machine as background music. Now there's an actual orchestra behind Kurt, with clarinets and a double bass and a grand piano, and they make Kurt sound even better if that's possible, braver and surer of himself, like he believes in the lyrics and isn't just singing them to show Rachel that he can. Blaine keeps his eyes on the audience, but his ears get lost in Kurt's voice, in its rises and falls, in the way it never falters or breaks, no matter how high the notes go.

When Kurt belts out the last note and the clarinetist plays the final melody, the audience starts cheering and whistling and clapping their hands immediately, and even from his spot behind the curtains Blaine can see how Kurt is blushing. How he's glowing and how everyone can see his blinding light, their eyes staying on him like moths moving towards a flame.

Blaine takes a shuddering breath, his chest suddenly hurting, his heart clenching like it's breaking apart. He doesn't know what to call the way he feels about Kurt. It's bigger than friendship, much bigger, more serious than a simple infatuation, and the only word he can find for it feels too much too soon. It feels a lot like heartbreak, like Blaine can't breathe properly but like he still craves for this feeling more than anything else, like he would give anything to make his heart keep hurting this way. Blaine has to wonder if this feeling is what all those novels he reads and all those songs he listens to are about, if this is what he was always looking for in the people he met.

Kurt is talking on the stage, the applause come and gone already, and Blaine snaps his attention back to the task at hand. He's distracted, too distracted when he really shouldn't be, and it won't do. He has promises to keep – and miles to go before I sleep, supplies the English minor part of his brain, and it sounds surprisingly fitting.

"... so if there are any directors in the audience who are planning of doing La Cage Aux Folles, sign me up as the costume designer. You should see the preliminary sketches I have hidden in my closet," Kurt quips with a wink, and the audience laughs good-naturedly.

The orchestra begins playing I Am What I Am, Kurt's voice joining in after a few notes, first a little hesitant and almost breathless, but growing stronger and bolder with every word. When the rest of the instruments eventually join in, Kurt starts walking around the stage, completely owning the song, the expression on his face fittingly defiant. It's almost unfair how well all these confident and proud songs suit Kurt, how they seem to be written just for him.

A minute or two later the song ends with Kurt spreading his arms and throwing his head back, but Blaine just glances at him, ignores the painful twinge in his own heart. There's still no sign of the stalker, the police officers and the guards are still roaming the concert hall aimlessly, and Blaine is getting frustrated.

Where the hell is he?

"Thank you!" Now Kurt's voice definitely sounds breathless over the microphone. Rachel cheers one last time, making Kurt huff out a laugh, and then the audience quiets. Kurt takes a few steps on the stage, brushing a few strands of hair from his forehead as Blaine watches him from the corner of his eye. "And thank you for donating, if you have already! I know personally how important art programs are in schools, so thank you. They can literally save lives."

Blaine can't see the stalker, can't spot him from the audience, and the piece pressed against his ear stays silent. Maybe he should just concentrate on Kurt for the last song. Levinson and his team can take care of the hall. After all, that's why Blaine chose this place – to see Kurt on the stage at all times. This could be the last time he can hear Kurt sing, so he might as well enjoy it fully.

"This last song," Kurt is explaining, "isn't from any Broadway show. I know, I know, I'm once again breaking the rules. I don't even know if any of you remember this song – I listened and sang along to it when I was younger, a lot younger than I am now, and then forgot everything about it for years. But earlier this month..." Kurt glances quickly towards the curtains, towards the place where Blaine is standing with his arms crossed over his chest, and Blaine smiles even though it hurts, even though Kurt can't probably make out his face with the bright spotlights and the shadows over the backstage.

Even so, Kurt's own smile widens before he turns back to look at the audience. "Earlier this month I heard it on the radio, on some radio station that plays older songs and that my... Um." He hesitates. "That my assistant... My friend insists on listening to everyday."

Blaine tilts his head, confused, and Kurt glances towards him again.

"Anyway. I kind of like the lyrics, so here it is, the last song I'll be singing tonight. Back to designing costumes after this, thank goodness." He rolls his eyes. "Thank you."

The crowd gives a small applause, and then the pianist starts, the even notes filling the air for a few measures until the strings join in, the noise growing but still staying gentle and calm. The arrangement is different, focusing on the piano and the strings instead of the guitar and the drums, but Blaine can still recognize the song. He looks at Kurt, who takes a deep breath and then opens his mouth, the words soft and tender, and Blaine's heart is breaking again, fighting against his ribcage and his muscles, wanting to hold on and to break free and run at the same time. It feels like heartbreak, like goodbye, like there isn't enough air, like Kurt takes Blaine's breath away.

"The dawn is breaking, a light shining through. You're barely waking, and I'm tangled up in you..."

They had been making dinner one evening, some fancy dish that Kurt had wanted to try out and that had required so many preparations that Blaine had already lost sight of all the sauces he'd stirred and all the pans he'd washed. Kurt had let Blaine pick out the radio station once again, and Blaine had picked the one that sometimes plays Katy Perry or songs he remembers from his childhood, Hanson or Spice Girls or other oldies that Cooper had owned on cassette and later on CDs.

Kurt had been checking the temperature of the meat when the song had started, all guitar and rhythm, and Blaine had started to hum along, swaying his body while stirring another pot of something complicated.

Kurt had looked at him for a moment and then laughed, the corners of his eyes crinkling. "This song? Really, Blaine? Isn't it a bit cliché or... I don't know, silly? Even for you?"

Blaine had shaken his head. "Nope. Besides, there's a little bit of truth behind every cliché."

When Kurt had turned his head away with a blush Blaine had realized what he'd just said, about a love song of all things, and had nearly smacked himself with the spoon. But then Kurt had started to hum as well, with a low voice and with his mouth curled up in a smile, and the stutter in Blaine's heartbeat had turned into a full-blown skipping.

After the song they'd smiled shyly at each other, delicious smells wafting in the air between them, until the commercial break on the radio station had broken the mood.

That could have been the moment – the moment when Blaine realized that he actually does have feelings for Kurt, no matter how hard he tries to deny or ignore them. It took him another day or two to actually acknowledge them, but it probably was that moment, now that he thinks about it. Blaine has always been better at expressing himself through music, better at feeling things with the help of a song, so of course it would take a love song for him to realize that the lyrics remind him of Kurt and that the last ounces of his professionalism just jumped out of the window with a delighted cackle.

"Don't stop here, I lost my place. I'm close behind."

The strings and the piano are playing faster on the stage, and Kurt has his eyes closed, the words pouring out of him like he can't hold them in. For a moment Blaine feels a sudden hope fill up the emptiness inside of him. Kurt is singing a love song, a love song he hummed along to with Blaine, and that must mean something, there must be something more behind this all. Maybe... Could Blaine even dare to hope? He doesn't want to screw things up, he doesn't want to care too much and end up failing again, end up with a broken heart once again. Still, what could be wrong with a little bit of hope?

Kurt talks about moving on, but then he looks at Blaine like he's something extraordinary, something unreal, sings a love song about how things will work out, and Blaine doesn't know whether he should trust his head or his heart. Or Kurt. Whether he should move on or let himself collide.

He's still conflicted when the song draws to a close, the pianist slowing on the last few notes. The audience is silent for a second or two, and then the applause suddenly erupts into a standing ovation, people whistling and stomping. Kurt opens his eyes, gives a small bow, and then his eyes are on Blaine again, boring into Blaine as he bows again and again and starts walking off the stage. Blaine barely hears Levinson's voice in his ear, saying something about them coming backstage so Kurt and Blaine should stay there, and then Kurt's already there, slipping between the curtains and breathing heavily in front of Blaine, a small sheen of sweat shining on his forehead.

"Well," Kurt says with a blinding smile. "How did I do?"

Blaine swallows, trying to find his voice again. "You... You were amazing. Like I said you would be."

Kurt ducks his head with a laugh. "Thank you."

"Do you... Don't you miss it?" Blaine asks. Surely there can be no way for Kurt to be such an amazing performer and not want to do it for the rest of his life.

"What, performing?" Kurt scrunches up his nose. "I do, a little. I've always enjoyed it. But it's... It's like a thing I want to do for fun. I don't want to take it too seriously and dedicate all my life to it. Costume design is the thing I want to dedicate most of my time to. It's my passion, the thing I'm most good at."

"I know." Blaine lowers his gaze. "I just... You were so amazing, Kurt, but I know your designs are amazing as well and that they are more important to you."

"You're spoiling me with the compliments, Blaine, stop it –"

"Kurt!"

A flurry of something red and excited slams into Kurt, making him stumble with a soft oof. Blaine blinks and then recognizes the figure as Rachel who is clinging to Kurt and talking one hundred words per second about how wonderful and amazing and perfect Kurt was and how Rachel knew he would shine almost as brightly as she would in a similar situation and how he should have also sung this song or that.

There's a hand on Blaine's shoulder and then Wes' concerned face appears in front of him, as if Wes already knows how conflicted Blaine's emotions are right now. "How are you doing?"

"I'm fine," Blaine answers automatically, pushing his feelings back down again. "How are things out there? Any signs of the stalker?"

Wes sighs. "None yet. Levinson thinks we might have missed something, but... Well, there he is himself."

Levinson joins their little group at that moment, scratching his thinning hair. He gives a nod to Kurt, who is still struggling to get Rachel to calm down, and then turns to look at Blaine. "You seen him?"

Blaine shakes his head. "Not even a glimpse. You?"

"Nope. I can't help feeling like there's something we've forgotten, but I just can't put my finger on it." Levinson shakes his head. "I'm sorry, Kurt."

Kurt finally manages to get free from Rachel's enthusiastic hug and smiles at Levinson. "It's not like it's your fault. Besides, he might still show up. There are still several performers left and Felicia said something about an open mike if she can get the audience drunk enough..."

"So Kurt – how did it feel, performing again?" Rachel interrupts, smoothing Kurt's sleeves.

Kurt blinks and turns to look at her. "Um. Honestly? Like I was putting on a show." He shakes his head and laughs. "The best damn show I've done in years and I looked fabulous, but I just kept missing my sketch book." His face turns serious. "I just... I just really want to move on already. That's what I kept thinking about when I was singing."

"Well, you sang one or two powerful songs traditionally sung by very independent characters, so no wonder," Rachel quips with a shake of her head, leaning against Kurt's shoulder. Kurt glances quickly at Blaine but then smiles down at Rachel, giving her a one-handed hug.

"Don't worry, we'll catch that son of a bitch," Levinson says gruffly. "Hopefully today. Then you can move as far on as you want."

Kurt squeezes Rachel. "I'd like that."

Blaine swallows roughly, the emptiness inside of him starting to clench again. Move on. Of course. How could he even think for a moment that Kurt would... Blaine should know better by now, and Kurt deserves to be free of everything, of anonymous stalkers and bodyguards and police officers. That's what he was thinking when he was singing those strong songs, that and nothing else, and Blaine just has to accept it.

His phone suddenly buzzes in his pocket, startling him. "Excuse me," he mutters, walking a few steps away from the others. He knows he should stay close to Kurt at all times, but Kurt is surrounded by Rachel and Wes and Levinson right now and they're standing at the side, clear from everyone else. There should be no danger if Blaine takes a moment of privacy to check his phone. To check his emotions.

Wes' worried eyes follow him, but Blaine turns his back on the others, fishing his phone from his pocket. He takes a few deep breaths, trying to quell the pain. Who knew that just the thought of leaving Kurt behind, of Kurt not having the same feelings as him could hurt this much, like his whole heart is being ripped in half in his chest and then being squashed into pulp. Blaine has been hurt before, but he's never been hurt this much with just a thought, a very real possibility, and somehow it feels even worse than he imagined.

His phone buzzes again, so Blaine exhales slowly, imagines his feelings flowing back inside their cage, and then opens the text messages that are flashing on his screen.

From Cooper:
Hey little brother, I hope everything's going alright at that concert!
Call me when you're done? I wanna know you're okay.

From Cooper:
Also: You're not going to fail.

Blaine smiles at the messages. God, he misses Cooper. When this is all over, when the wonderful days he had with Kurt are over, he's going to go back to LA and sit in Cooper's living room again and talk to him face to face for hours, just like they did when they were kids. He's going to need it.

Blaine puts his phone back into his pocket and lifts his head. The backstage is still dim, the muffled voices of someone talking on the stage echoing through the empty space, and Kurt, Rachel, Wes and Levinson are behind him, discussing something in low voices. Only a few other people are wandering around. Blaine recognizes Felicia's red hair and two or three people he remembers seeing when he and Kurt visited the venue for the first time. He should probably go back to the others, but he needs to take a few more calming breaths, to let his feelings get drowned under logic and professionalism once again.

A tall slender man wearing similar clothes as the other organizers and waiters walks past Blaine, heading towards Kurt and the others, and something about his face catches Blaine's eye. His hair doesn't look that familiar, light-colored locks tamed carefully under hairspray, and he's wearing thick-framed glasses, but his face is...

Oh god.

Blaine's feet are moving before he realizes it, catching up with the man in a few long strides, making a grab for his arm without even thinking. He only knows that he needs to stop the man, stop him from getting any closer to Kurt; Kurt, who's going to move on and be happy and have everything he's ever wished for. Blaine doesn't know how the man is suddenly here, why none of the guards or police officers haven't noticed him already, why Blaine is once again the only one who recognizes him (thank goodness for good face memory). There's only one thought running through his mind, drowning everything else out, drowning his feelings and doubts and wishes and fears, the thought repeating the words stop him stop him stop him stophimstophimstophimstophim so fast that it feels like his brain is going to short-circuit soon.

"Wait, stop...!" Blaine exclaims, his fingers gripping the man's arm tightly.

The man does stop, time slowing down and Blaine's brain speeding up. The man looks down on Blaine's hand on his arm, almost like he's surprised or curious, and then he lifts his head, his mouth falling open. His face is clearer than Blaine remembers now that they're standing one on one and not staring back at each other from a grainy surveillance photo or across a dark ballroom. A part of Blaine's brain, the only part that isn't screaming self-defense moves or exclamations at him, seems almost surprised how nondescript the man looks, a bit like the plain white envelopes he's been sending to Kurt.

Then the man's face screws up in sudden anger, his eyes flashing as he stares at Blaine. "You –"

The word is said like it's spit out, time moves faster again, and out of the corner of his eye Blaine can see the man drawing his arm back, pulling against Blaine's hand. Blaine dodges the first simple punch aimed towards his shoulder and keeps holding on, keeps the man in place. The audience is clapping out in the concert hall, a roaring sound that seems to swallow all the other voices. There is a hand gripping Blaine, pushing him away, but he doesn't let go, he fights, he can fight now, he isn't helpless like he was all those years ago at a school dance in a cold parking lot.

One of his fists connects with flesh, a boxing move against a living target. The man stumbles backwards but doesn't let go of Blaine, recovering quickly and reaching for something in his pocket. It's all a busy blur; the man is taller than Blaine and surprisingly strong, but he's not as strong as Blaine, not as determined as Blaine. Blaine has someone he wants to and needs to protect, and he's not going to fail, not anymore.

He's this close to detaining the struggling man, to shouting something that sounds a lot like Levinson's name –

And then he feels something hit him.

It's like a punch to his gut, a little to his side, knocking the breath out of him and draining all the voices from his ears – the applause, the muffled words, the heavy breathing of the man standing too close to him. It feels different. It feels quieter. Blaine knows what fists feel like when they hit his flesh, but this doesn't feel like a fist. It feels colder and sharper and... metallic.

There are suddenly hands pulling the man away from him, angry faces that look like the guards Blaine met briefly before the concert, except their faces are all contorted and wrong. The not-fist withdraws from his stomach in one swift movement as the man is pulled back, and Blaine gasps and stumbles backwards, his legs shaky and unsure, looks at the man who's fighting futilely against the guards and yelling something, spit flying from his mouth.

The man has a knife in his hand. Blaine has barely managed to wonder how it got there when he notices that even in the dim lighting it's clear that the blade is covered in something red.

Blood.

Wait. That's his blood.

Blaine is suddenly falling, falling backwards for so long that it feels like he's never going to hit the ground. He can't see anything except the faint lights above the backstage, and then his head bounces off the floor, the sounds rush back, screams and yells and a mess of other voices, all of them blending in together, and with them pain – so much pain in Blaine's body. He yells as well, one exhausted yelp until he has to gasp for breath, and why is it suddenly so hard to breathe, why is something sticking to his hand when he presses it against the place where the pain is the worst, why are there so many desperate voices –

"Blaine!"

A broken scream, hoarse and watery, and then Kurt's face is above his, his hands hovering over Blaine's body like he doesn't know what to do. Kurt has tears in his eyes, his face looks so scared, and Blaine wants to reach out and tell him that it's alright, that everything is fine, but he doesn't have the energy to talk, the edges of his vision are starting to blur, the voices becoming fragmentary and merged together.

"Oh my god –"

"Did you call an ambulance already?"

"Jesus Christ."

"Do you have him? Do you –"

"Blaine, Blaine. Blaine..."

Kurt's fingers in his hair, stroking gently, and Blaine blinks up at him, trying to clear his vision because he wants to see Kurt, he needs to see that Kurt is alright, that Kurt is safe.

"Blaine, you – you need to stay awake, okay? Don't you dare close your eyes, you need to keep them open, can you do that for me? Blaine? Blaine, say something. Or should you save your energy, I don't know what to do in a situation like this, Blaine please..."

Kurt is crying. His voice is breaking. He needs to stop crying, Blaine needs to help him.

"K-Kurt," he manages to gasp out. He can't see much anymore, the blurring getting closer to the center of his vision, dimming and dulling like everything is getting heavier and heavier. Maybe the darkness is a good thing. The more his vision blurs, the less it hurts, so that must be a good thing, hurting less is always a good thing, and if Kurt is crying then he's still alive, he's still here, which means that he's safe, he's okay, Blaine didn't fail. He didn't fail.

"No, Blaine, you shouldn't talk, but don't fall asleep, okay? Can you do that for me? Blaine? Just please, stay awake, you need to stay awake, I need you to..."

Blaine blinks slowly, once, twice, three times, his eyelids getting heavier each time. He opens and closes his mouth and tries to get the words out. He should say something soothing. Kurt's voice is already fading away, starting to sound more and more desperate. Blaine can't remember why he's lying on the cold floor anymore. It should probably remind him of Sadie Hawkins, but he's too tired for flashbacks right now, and Kurt is here so it can't be Sadie Hawkins, that happened years and years before Kurt, and maybe this is just a dream, maybe he's actually lying on the guest room bed with Kurt tangled around him and the soft morning light drifting in through the drapes.

Maybe he should just close his eyes. That sounds like a good idea.

"Blaine?"

The voice sounds like it's coming from far away, from another reality, and Blaine can't concentrate anymore. His eyes slip closed and the words on his tongue slip away, the voices and feelings and coldness seeping away until there's nothing left but comforting and numb darkness.