His parents leave a little earlier, his dad making them promise to drive carefully and his mom giving him a kiss on the cheek and saying that it will all be okay – but how can it be, how can Blaine ever be completely okay again after everything that has happened? His head isn't dizzy anymore, the wound on his stomach is healing along nicely, and his parents don't seem to quite understand why he's so subdued, so quiet and lost in his thoughts. They are excited that he's going back to college but they keep walking on eggshells around him, probably having all sorts of flashbacks to the months after Sadie Hawkins, to a Blaine who was jumpy and sullen and so, so broken.

Cooper calls him an idiot, holds him that one time he breaks down because of everything, and then tries to make him change his mind. Blaine can hear him talking to Wes outside his hospital room once or twice, but Wes only shakes his head and comes back to the room, giving Blaine a gentle smile and patting his shoulder. In the end Cooper still gives in and goes to pick up Blaine's things from Kurt's apartment. Blaine doesn't think he can set foot in that apartment anymore. If he does, he'll never want to leave again.

When Blaine finally gets out of the hospital on a windy day and slides into Cooper's rental car after saying goodbye to Wes and Sarah, careful with the stitches still piercing his skin, he sees two neatly packed suitcases on the backseat, as well as his punching bag and guitar case with bubble wrap around them.

"You didn't have to pack them so carefully," he says as Cooper sits down on the driver's seat and closes the door.

Cooper looks at him. "I didn't. They were waiting for me like that at Kurt's apartment."

Blaine swallows roughly. "Oh."

He spends the rest of the drive staring out of the window, blinking his eyes and repeating to himself that he can move on, that Kurt has already done the same, that things are as they should be. Cooper keeps glancing at him, his hands gripping the steering wheel tightly and his eyes worried, but this time he doesn't say anything.

-

Carole and Finn go back to Ohio after a few days because they both have work, but Burt leaves the tire shop in Finn's hands, opting to stay in New York for a while instead. Kurt has a feeling his dad is staying because he wants to make sure he's alright, that he'll be safe and happy, and Kurt appreciates it, he really does.

He just isn't sure he knows how happiness works anymore.

Together they pack up Blaine's things before Cooper comes to pick them up, hide all the traces of Blaine ever being in the apartment. Kurt shoves the light brown beddings from the guest room bed in his closet under a pair of jeans he hasn't worn in years. He should probably throw them out – isn't that what people do when the person they're in love with has left them, get rid of all the things that remind them of that person? But he doesn't want to do that. The sheets still smell of Blaine. It's faint but it's there, and a small part of Kurt wants to hold on to that reminder.

He tells his dad that he's not just going to throw away perfectly good sheets, but he never gets around to throwing them into the laundry either. Burt pats his shoulder and looks at him sadly.

"Sure thing, Kurt," he says and doesn't ask more questions.

Andrea calls him some days later when things have settled down, asking him how the costumes are going, and as Kurt flips through his sketchbook with the phone pressed between his shoulder and his ear, he comes across the preliminary design he did for the main character. Cardigans, striped shirts and boat shoes are drawn all over the page, the bright colors and tender lines almost taunting him.

Kurt has to look away for a moment and take a few deep breaths. It still hurts like a punch to his already broken heart. Like Blaine punched him in the heart.

"Kurt? Are you there?" Andrea is saying over the phone. "I was thinking we could meet up and discuss the costumes some time this week, if that's alright? You could also come watch our first read-through if you want to."

When Kurt lifts his head Burt is looking at him over his newspaper, eyebrows raised in question. Kurt knows his dad should go back to Lima already. As good as Finn is, the shop is still Burt's and some of the regular customers only want Burt working on their cars. Kurt isn't feeling much better, not yet, but he is Kurt Hummel, he keeps going, he never gives up, and today he checked his mail all by himself and didn't even flinch.

Kurt flips the sketchbook closed and smiles. It's fraying around the edges, but he forces it to stay on his face, forces himself to move on. If that's what Blaine wants him to do, he'll do it.

"Sure," he says into the phone. "Does Thursday sound good?"

-

Blaine's new dorm room is small and cramped. He tries not to compare it to Kurt's apartment, but the blank walls and the cracked ceiling are taunting him every minute of every day and night. He sleeps fitfully, startling awake several times and expecting to see a tall and lean body sleeping next to him, almost feeling long fingers running down his arm in strange patterns. He never told it to Kurt, but he was half-awake every morning; he could feel Kurt's fingers on his skin, could feel his breath tickling his curls, and he misses it.

Blaine attends his final seminars, finishes his essays and sees his professors who keep congratulating him on coming back and saying that he did the right thing. When he gets back to his room in the evenings – it's not a home, it's just a room – he concentrates on his homework, he gets by and works hard. He thinks he's actually succeeding, but for some reason he still expects another voice to join him every time he plays his guitar, expects someone to laugh and say, "really Blaine?" The music he plays sounds incomplete, something that has never happened before, and the worst part is that Blaine knows exactly what it's missing.

The first time he steps in front of a classroom is difficult, incredibly difficult, his hands shaking and his voice almost betraying him – but he pushes on, and by the end of the lesson he has the kids smiling and laughing at his stupid jokes. Maybe he can do this. Maybe he just needed to succeed, to protect someone for once, needed to see the scared looks on his parents' faces and in Cooper's eyes, and maybe all those things made coming back to college possible. This is what he wants to do with his life, after all. His dreams haven't changed.

Except they have, haven't they, in one aspect, but Blaine resolutely does not think about that.

Cooper and Wes keep calling him, his parents send him e-mails full of worried questions. The scar on his stomach fades every day, and after he's been back in college for a month he goes boxing for the first time in a long while. His movements are a bit rusty and weak, but he hits the bag until his knuckles hurt, until sweat is trickling down his back and until the only thing he can hear is his own heavy breathing. His body hurts like hell the next day, but it helps, a little.

The aching scar on his heart doesn't go away.

-

It's quiet in the apartment without Blaine. Kurt can't believe he didn't realize it before – the way silence seems to linger in the corners of each room, the way his own steps echo through the empty hallway. Logically he knows that he's just imagining everything, that one person can't possibly fill up a whole apartment with noise or life. Blaine had a soft voice; Kurt never heard him yell (except that one time when he was lying on the floor, bleeding), and the sound of his guitar was always gentle, even when he was playing old disco classics. There's no way that Blaine could have made the apartment feel more alive. It's an apartment, for god's sake. It can't feel, it doesn't have a life.

Kurt isn't afraid to go out on his own, isn't afraid to open his mail, not anymore. Even the nightmares have stopped, although he still has trouble falling asleep. His dad seems to think that he isn't dealing with things, that he's just pushing them away – but he isn't. Kurt deals with things by going on, and it's easy to do that when he has Andrea's play to work on, when another director calls him up and asks him to design costumes for another play and when his calendar is full of lunch dates and deadlines and fittings.

Sometimes Kurt is walking the streets of New York and he turns around, opening his mouth to say something – and a second too late he remembers that there's no one there, no one following him, no one walking next to him and resting their hand on the small of his back. He stops for a moment, a sad smile forming on his lips, and then keeps walking.

When Kurt is at home he turns his music up, walks a bit louder through the rooms and rattles the dishes whenever he makes dinner. He invites Rachel over as often as possible and doesn't allow her to look at him with worried eyes, distracts her by talking about her new roles or auditions. He does his best to move on, to keep going, and he thinks he's even succeeding – but somehow the silence still stays. Somehow it feels even more oppressive.

-

It gets somewhat easier, day by day, week by week, month by month, until over three monotonous and grey months have passed since Blaine left New York and went back to college. He wakes up one morning from disorientated sleep to the sound of his mail slot opening and slamming shut, to the hurried footsteps of the mailman echoing in the dormitory's hallway.

Blaine rubs his eyes and gets up with a sigh. He's done with his final classes and his training, but he hasn't moved out yet, stuck between not quite a student anymore and not yet a legitimate teacher. He has absolutely nowhere to be today. Days like this are the hardest, with too much silence and too much free time, too many opportunities to second-guess and reconsider everything.

He pads to the door and bends down to pick up the mail. On days like this even the simplest movements remind him of New York, of how he used to pick up Kurt's mail every morning while Kurt made coffee, how he used to sigh in relief when there wasn't a new letter and how blinding Kurt's smile always was when he walked back into the kitchen.

Blaine frowns at the memory and thumbs through the few items in his own mail. There's the newspaper, one or two bills, and a thick letter with the Ohio State University labeled as the sender. Blaine drops the newspaper and the bills on his table and slits the large envelope open, pulling out a small stack of papers. His full name is written on the topmost paper with clear typed letters, followed by his birth date and a list of all the courses he has completed, and it takes a few moments for Blaine's sleep-muddled mind to realize what he's holding in his hands.

He's done.

He rushes to his phone, pressing the first number on speed dial without even stopping to think about it, and then waits anxiously for the other person to pick up. Not for the first time Blaine wishes phones had songs or music instead of the tantalizing dial tone that seems to just mock everyone listening to it.

Eventually there's a click on the other end of the line, and then Cooper's sleepy voice answers. "B?"

"Oh, right, the time difference, sorry." Blaine shakes his head, putting the papers down on his bedside table. "Never mind, it's nothing. Go back to sleep, Coop."

"No, no – I'm awake, just..." There's some rustling and muffled voices – and oh god, Cooper obviously has an overnight guest. A lady guest, judging from the faint words Blaine can make out through the phone, and suddenly he feels mortified. Yes, Cooper is definitely an adult, but Blaine really doesn't want to know about certain aspects of his brother's life.

The sounds disappear, and then Cooper's voice is back, clearer and more awake and sounding concerned. "Blaine? Is something wrong?"

Blaine sits down on his bed, pinching the bridge of his nose. "No, I'm... Sorry. Is Nina there?"

"She is, but don't worry about her." Cooper yawns softly. "Why are you calling this early? Did something happen?"

Blaine takes the papers in his hand again, suddenly wanting to feel the concrete proof against his palm. He gives a laugh. "Yeah, you could say that. My... I got my diploma today."

"What does that even mean? I'm no good at this college stuff, you know that."

"It means that I'm done. I'm officially a teacher."

There's silence on the other end for a moment, and then Cooper is literally screaming in Blaine's ear, enthusiastic words and sounds that make no sense, and Blaine has to pull the phone away from his ear with a wince. He feels kind of sorry for Nina right now.

"Blainey! That's – that's amazing!" Cooper whoops. "So you graduated then? You're finished and done and all over it and now you can go teach those little vermin everything about music and scales and whatever, and oh my god, Blaine! Blaineeeey!"

Blaine laughs. "Quiet, you idiot. You're going to wake Nina."

"Oh, she's already awake." There's a pause. "And she says congratulations, by the way. Which is just a less eloquent and much simpler way to say the same things I just told you."

"Thanks." Blaine flips through the papers on his lap with a smile, looking at his grades and recognizing courses he took years ago. It's almost surreal that he's here now, that he has a degree and a diploma after everything that has happened. There are actually people who would trust him to handle a classroom full of kids, who have read through his essays and diploma work and seen something there, something to give him pretty good grades. This is all he's ever wanted, to be a teacher, and now he actually is. Blaine doesn't know if he should laugh or cry, if he should get up and dance or just sleep for a month.

"Hey, little brother," Cooper says, his voice gentle and caring. "I'm so proud of you, you know that?"

They have worked through their issues years ago, but there will probably always be a small part of Blaine that is still looking for his brother's approval. The words make something warm spread through him, something kind and light that feels a lot like pure happiness. He hasn't felt that in a while, not like this.

"I know, Coop," he answers with a soft smile and leans back until his back hits the bed and he's lying on top of the covers.

"Did you call mom and dad yet?" Cooper asks. Blaine can practically hear his excited smile, and it makes the warm feeling spread even wider.

"Not yet. I just opened the letter. I'll call them after I've had breakfast."

"Well, what now then, Mr. Teacher? Are you going to get a job in Columbus or what?"

"I don't..." Blaine stops, and just like that the warmth is gone.

Columbus isn't really his home. It has always felt like a pit stop, a place to get his degree and nothing more, and he has never really made any roots in the city. Westerville isn't his home either, hasn't been for years, even though his parents live there, even though that's where Dalton is and where he grew up; it's his childhood home, the place he can go back to but still the place he has left behind. Even Los Angeles isn't his home – Cooper's apartment is a safe haven and always open for him, Blaine knows it, but it's still Cooper's, full of things from his own life.

Blaine thinks about the dreams he had in high school, beautiful images about seeing the view from the top of the Empire State Building, about standing in the middle of the Times Square, about Broadway and Upper East Side and Manhattan and dozens of other places he can only recognize by their name. He thinks about an apartment on the ninth floor, about a restaurant with the best chicken salad he has ever eaten, thinks about the hum of the city at night, thinks about long arms and smiling eyes. That's where he wants to go, that's where he felt like home. But he doesn't know if it's possible anymore. It's a big city, but fate has always had a way of coming back to bite him, and Blaine promised himself he would move on and let Kurt do the same.

But he felt like home when he was with Kurt. It wasn't just his teenage dream of New York, it was Kurt; it has always been Kurt with his sarcasm and wit and courage, Kurt with his gorgeous body and beautiful face and eyes that make Blaine want to drown in them, as silly as that sounds. Blaine can try and fight it – that's what he has been doing for more than three months, for nearly six months now, ever since he saw Kurt for the first time – but maybe instead of fighting he should just... Stop and face it. For once be brave and not afraid.

Blaine has used up all his excuses and moved on, but it hasn't helped, not at all, and here he is, wondering if there's a school in New York City that could use a music teacher.

"Blainey? Are you still there?"

Blaine startles from his thoughts. He pushes himself off the bed and stares out of his window, into the bleak and rainy Columbus morning. He has his diploma now, has the whole world open at his feet, but there's only one place in that world he really wants to go to. Maybe it's time he admitted it to himself.

"Cooper?"

"Yeah?" Cooper's voice is careful, like he doesn't quite know what Blaine's going to say, and that's alright. Blaine doesn't really know either.

"I think... I don't know what I should do, Coop," he admits.

"Blaine. You always say that but then things still work out just fine. Trust me, you do –"

"No, Coop, I..." Blaine shakes his head, frustrated. Words have always been difficult. He can sing, he can play music and dance and get his feelings out in that way, but putting them in words without any melody to back them up? That has always been his weakness. "I mean I know what I really, really want to do and where I really, really want to go, but I don't... I don't know if I can anymore. If I should."

"Oh." Cooper is silent for a few seconds and then he breathes in and out, the sound loud enough to make Blaine exhale as well. "Look, Blaine, remember all those years ago when I gave that acting master class at Dalton?"

Blaine frowns. "I could never forget it. But what does that have to do with..."

"A lot, actually." Cooper sounds serious, more serious than he has ever sounded before, not at all like the goofy big brother that always came up with the most ridiculous ideas when they were younger. "See, that master class... That was my second chance. With you, I mean. I messed up a lot of things when we were young and I probably still do, and my apology at Dalton didn't exactly go how I'd planned it. But I knew I had to do it, that I had to reach out for you and try to repair the damage. You could have shut me out and never spoken to me again, and I would have had to suck it up and accept it. But you didn't."

"You're my brother. Of course I didn't." Blaine rolls his eyes.

"And I'm forever grateful for that," Cooper says with emphasis. "But the point is that I know how terrifying second chances can be. I know it could be easier to just pretend and hide and ignore everything, but that's not a very ideal way to live, is it? The risks will always be huge – I mean, for fuck's sake, Blaine, you took another boy to a school dance in the middle of Ohio. You serenaded a guy at the Gap. You became a bodyguard because your idiot brother suggested it. You just graduated from college. Sure, you might have failed a few times, but you wouldn't be where you are now if you hadn't tried. What do you have to lose anyway?"

Blaine closes his eyes, his heart beating violently inside his chest, like the sound of his fists against a punching bag, like the beat of an old disco song. Like the way Kurt's shoes would clack against the pavement. "My... My hopes and fears, I guess."

"You can't build your life on hopes and fears alone, B." Cooper sighs softly. "Okay, you clueless idiot, I'll make it simple – what are your feelings towards Kurt?"

Blaine splutters, dropping his diploma on the floor, the papers scattering everywhere. Of course he has known from the start that this conversation isn't just about New York, but hearing Kurt's name after such a long time is still a shock. "W-what?"

"You like him, don't you? And not just as friends or as some weird client-bodyguard-thingy?"

"I..." Blaine swallows and looks around his dorm room. It shouldn't hold the answers; it's just a room, but somehow the answers are still there. The empty walls, the deafening silence, the city outside his window that just doesn't feel right. Nothing feels right because Kurt isn't here. Blaine hasn't heard his voice in months, hasn't made him laugh in months, hasn't held him in his arms in the middle of the night, and he misses it. He misses Kurt, more than he has ever missed another person in his life. Kurt moves him and takes his breath away, makes him want to be braver than he ever has been, trusts him and accepts him, and without Kurt Blaine's life feel definitely duller, like he's playing a role that doesn't quite fit him. Like he can't be just Blaine.

Kurt makes him feel whole. Kurt – courageous and beautiful and brilliant and talented Kurt – makes him feel like he can't fail anymore.

"I think I'm..." Blaine takes a deep breath and squeezes his eyes shut, blocks the tears and imagines Kurt in front of him. "I think I'm in love with him."

"There you go! Was that so hard?" Cooper comments. "Now what on earth are you waiting for?"

Blaine blinks his eyes open. "I... Oh god," he groans, burying his face in his hand. "At the hospital, I said... Coop, I said so many awful things because I thought that was what he needed to hear to move on and I always acted so weird around him and pushed him away, and... I don't think he'll ever want to see me again because of those things. Oh god. I'm a complete idiot."

"Well, duh."

"Not helping," Blaine mutters, dragging his hand down his face.

"Blaine, you're an Anderson. We are doomed to be idiots every once in a while." Cooper clicks his tongue. "But lucky for you, we're idiots with a good heart and we tend to realize when we've been idiotic."

"But what if he doesn't want to see me? What if he never even had any feelings for me in the first place?" Blaine asks, his voice small.

"Then you move on," Cooper answers. "You know that. But first you try to find out if he would be willing to give you a chance. And if he does, you better not screw it up and break our tradition of successful second chances."

Blaine chuckles, wiping his eyes, not even remembering when his eyes started to water. "So that's it? That's your big brotherly advice?" he teases.

"Hey, that advice deserves a standing ovation. That advice deserves an Oscar. Or at least an Advertisers' Award," Cooper says, and Blaine can almost imagine him, sitting in his kitchen in his pajama pants, with his arm slung over the backrest of a chair and Nina shaking her head at him.

Cooper is not the only one who's glad that Blaine gave him that second chance all those years ago.

"Besides," Cooper continues, "I don't think you were that idiotic. I have a feeling Kurt feels the same way you do."

Blaine is pretty sure his heart just jumped out of his chest and started running in circles around him. "He what?" he manages to choke out. "How do you... Cooper?"

"I'm not going to lie, Blaine," Cooper explains. "You probably did hurt him when you were trying to be all noble and protective and giving him the chance to move on – but I met him at the hospital and he..." Cooper huffs out a laugh. "You should've seen the way he acted. He was so worried, more worried than a client would be about his bodyguard, and then he... I just think he'll understand why you did what you did. Trust me on this one, okay? And who knows, Blainey might get himself a boyfriend!" he finishes in sing-song.

Blaine shakes his head. "You are ridiculous."

"I'm awesome," Cooper quips. "You just better make that one hell of an apology. Maybe with a master class and all."

-

It's a sunny day in New York City, and Kurt is on a lunch date with Rachel and Wes to discuss any upcoming events and possible job offers. They're sitting in a café near Wes' office, and Kurt tries to ignore the questions that start bubbling inside of him every time he sees Wes these days – the questions about Blaine, about how he's doing, if he's already finished with his studies, if he's happy, if he has moved on and forgotten about Kurt. It's been over three months, and Kurt knows he should be over it by now – they never even kissed, they never even had sex for crying out loud, Blaine was never his boyfriend – but Blaine was the first person that made Kurt feel so complete, so not alone, so trusted and safe, and of course he misses that. It's only natural.

But he's not going to ask Wes about Blaine. He doesn't want to hear the answers he fears the most.

"So can you be my plus-one for that premiere, Kurt?"

Kurt lifts his gaze from his coffee, blinking his eyes back into focus and letting thoughts of Blaine float to the back of his head. That's where they always are, waiting for a moment to break out and taunt him again. "I'm sorry?"

Rachel looks at him, her eyes not annoyed like they usually would be when someone doesn't listen to her, but full of worry instead. Kurt is getting sick of worried stares.

"That premiere next week? Can you be my plus-one?" Rachel repeats.

"Oh." Kurt scratches his forehead. "It's on Friday, right? Sure, I don't have any other appointments that night."

Rachel purses her lips and reaches out to squeeze Kurt's shoulder with her small hand, rubbing her thumb soothingly over the stiff muscles. "You're really tense, Kurt."

"Too many nights spent hunched over my desk, that's all," Kurt explains with a smile and then turns to look at Wes. "Which reminds me – that play Charles is doing? I can't do the costumes for it. I already have too much on my plate as it is, and I don't really..." He wrinkles up his nose. "I don't really understand his vision."

Wes laughs. "Yeah, no wonder. I did see his plan, Kurt. I'm not sure Charles even has a vision."

Kurt shrugs. "Well, I still didn't want to offend him by immediately saying no with a horrified look on my face."

"Oh, good call, Kurt!" Rachel perks up, clapping her hands together. "I remember hearing that Charles is friends with a few very important people, so getting on his bad side could be a stupid idea. Of course they're just rumors and Charles is rather eccentric, but I still wouldn't want to ruin my career by being rude to him..."

Wes' phone starts ringing at that moment, and he gives Rachel and Kurt an apologetic look before answering it. "Hi honey."

"Hi Sarah!" Rachel exclaims and Kurt very discreetly covers his ears. Rachel has probably never heard of an inside voice, and Kurt really should be used to it by now.

Wes rolls his eyes. "Rachel says hi, in case you didn't hear it." He looks at his watch. "No, I'm out having lunch with Kurt and Rachel... Oh, right, yes, the dry cleaning. I can go pick it up?"

Kurt takes a sip of his coffee and smiles at the way Wes' face instantly softens when he starts talking to Sarah. It reminds him of how Blaine's eyes would look like late at night when they were lying on a bed and talking about nothing in particular – and there are those thoughts again, ruining his good effort at moving on. It's hopeless, he knows it is. Blaine was the one who told him to move on, the one who wanted to leave and never be in touch again, the one who probably doesn't even miss him it all.

Those thoughts hurt even more than the distant memories.

"Well could you bring the receipt to me? ... Okay, I'll see you soon. Love you." Wes hangs up and slides the phone back into his pocket. "She's doing deliveries today, so I need to pick up the dry cleaning," he explains.

"Can I just say that I find it very admirable that you and Sarah manage to make your marriage work even though you both have very demanding jobs?" Rachel comments.

Wes lifts his eyebrows. "Thank... you?"

Kurt laughs. They spend the next fifteen minutes talking about the upcoming opening night of Andrea's play. Kurt is all done with the costumes, there are only a few small details left, and he must say that even if he was a tiny bit apprehensive about doing a contemporary play in the first place, the costumes are brilliant. They manage to reflect the characters’ personalities without being too obvious, and he is definitely proud of them.

The café door opens near the end of their conversation, and Sarah walks in, instantly spotting their table and weaving through the busy lunch crowd until she reaches them. She smiles and bends down to give Wes a kiss on the cheek.

"Hey you all," she says as she hands over a small piece of paper to Wes. "How are you?"

"Busy but good," Kurt answers with a shrug, and Rachel nods in agreement.

"We should have dinner again sometime soon," Rachel suggests. "It's been too long since our last time."

"It really has. I'd love to bake for more than two but less than two hundred people for a change," Sarah admits with a smile. "Look, I'm sorry for just interrupting your meeting and then leaving right away, but I have to get these darlings –" She gently shakes the small box of cookies she's holding in her hands. "– to the post office before lunch hour ends. Lots of deliveries today."

"Oh, is your bakery starting to deliver by mail as well? Because I'm pretty sure I know a few people outside New York who would love your cheesecake," Rachel says, her eyes already shining with excitement.

Sarah laughs and shakes her head. "No, sorry, that would be too much of a hassle. These are actually for..." She stops, hesitating, and then glances to Kurt. "For Blaine."

"For Blaine?" Kurt repeats.

The same old questions come back again, drowning out every other thought. Kurt can pretend that he has moved on and that Blaine only crosses his mind every now and then or when he sees Wes, but it's not true. He misses Blaine. Oh god, he misses him so much. He's not even angry at him anymore, hasn't been for months – he just misses their conversations and jokes and lunches and the quiet evenings they spent in the living room, reading or listening to music or watching whatever was on TV. Kurt misses waking up next to Blaine, misses the weight of Blaine's arm over his chest, misses everything about him.

And all it takes is one name, one silly name with one syllable and six letters – sometimes he doesn't even need a name, he only needs a certain gesture, a familiar movement or the sound of someone tuning a guitar – and he's spiraling once again, forgetting everything about trying to move on.

"Is he..." Kurt starts, feeling Rachel's eyes on him. "How is he?"

Sarah fiddles with the box and then looks down. "Honestly? I don't really know."

Wes reaches out to stroke Sarah's arm, his eyes gentle, but Kurt can see the underlying worry in them. "I talked to him a few days ago, and he sounded relatively fine."

"Relatively fine?" Rachel butts in. "That's an odd choice of words."

Sarah lifts her head and looks at Rachel. "Well, it's Blaine. I mean I don't know him as well as Wes does, but I do know that Blaine always says he's fine even when he isn't. And he sounded really tired the last time I spoke with him, so I'm going to do the one thing I can do and send him some chocolate-chip cookies with extra chips."

Kurt gives a small smile. "His favorites."

Everyone else turns to look at him. Kurt startles and ducks his head, trying to look nonchalant. "He, um. He mentioned it once when we were out having coffee."

"And you still remember it," Rachel says softly. "Oh honey."

So much for moving on.

-

A few days later, after Blaine has called his parents, after he has finally understood that he has a diploma and a profession he actually wants to do, after he has listened to New York State of Mind too many times and then very discreetly checked if there are any job advertisements for a music teacher in New York – because no matter what Kurt says, no matter whether he forgives him or not, New York is still the place where Blaine wants to be, where he should have gone right after Dalton instead of being scared and staying in Ohio – after all that he sits in his dorm room and fiddles with his phone, tossing it from one hand to the other. He's trying to figure out which ones he should trust more, his hopes or his fears, but the old doubts are creeping up on him again, making the decision impossible.

"You really are an idiot," he says to himself a moment later, effectively proving his point, and then promptly dials Wes' phone number.

Wes answers after two rings, the sounds of the city echoing behind his voice. "Hi Blaine."

"Hi Wes." Blaine leans back on his bed, crossing his legs in front of him. "How are you? How's New York?"

Wes huffs. "Busy and insane, that's what they both are. I'm trying to get to a meeting with this eccentric director to tell him that my client's not going to work with him, and the traffic is awful and I can't find a taxi and –"

"I got my diploma," Blaine blurts out.

Wes stops and then laughs after a moment. "You did? Blaine, that's great! Congratulations!" There's the sound of a car blowing its horn, and Wes mutters something under his breath before he goes on. "So you're a teacher now, for real? Any job offers waiting?"

Blaine stares at the cracked ceiling. "Not really. The school where I did my final training said that they would've loved to hire me, but they already have a great music teacher, so I'm not that disappointed." He scratches the back of his head and takes a deep breath. "I'm... I'm actually thinking of trying to find a job in New York."

For a while there are only the noises of the traffic reaching Blaine's ear, the hum of the city and the cacophony of its life, familiar and making him miss the city even more, but then suddenly the noises fade out and Wes' voice is back, quieter and more concerned.

"I just stepped into a shoe store for a moment, in case you were wondering the sudden silence," Wes explains. "Look, Blaine," he sighs after a moment, "that sounds great, but are you... I mean, why New York?"

"I knew you'd ask that." Blaine leans his head against the wall and stares at the ceiling. "I just... I always thought I'd go there, you know? You can probably remember how awestruck I was that first day when you gave me a quick tour of the city, and I... I seriously considered applying for NYU or some other college during my senior year, but then I chickened out and applied here instead. But music teachers are needed everywhere, so I thought that maybe I could move there now." He closes his eyes. "So it's not... It's not about Kurt."

Wes barks out a laugh. "You're a terrible liar, Blaine."

Blaine sighs. "No, you're just good at spotting my lies."

"That I am," Wes answers, sounding smug.

"But it's really not entirely about Kurt, I promise." Blaine shifts on the bed and exhales slowly. "How... How is he?" He tries to sound nonchalant, but he still unconsciously holds the phone closer to his ear. Wes can probably hear right through his voice no matter what he does. Those are the pros and cons of having people in your life who know you too well.

"Kurt? He's good, he's fine. Busy with the new play," Wes answers quickly.

"... Oh." Blaine doesn't know what he should feel. Mostly he's relieved that Kurt is okay, all things considered. He wants Kurt to be happy. He wants him to get everything he deserves, he wants him to be smiling and taking people's breaths away with his costumes. Still there's a small, stupid and selfish part of Blaine that had been hoping that Kurt would have missed him. God knows how much Blaine has missed him, and it's definitely his own fault this time.

"That's good," he says eventually, managing to keep his voice even. What was he thinking, taking Cooper's advice seriously? Kurt is clearly doing just fine without him, and Blaine should just forget about him, no matter how impossible it is, because he screwed up, he was an idiot and he let Kurt go because of his own insecurities, and now he can spend the rest of his life regretting that and never finding out if Kurt actually even had feelings for him, and Kurt probably has someone in his life already, some brilliant man because he deserves someone brilliant and –

"But I can tell he misses you," Wes interrupts Blaine's thoughts.

Blaine blinks his eyes, both his brain and heart stuttering. "He... does?"

"Yes, Blaine, you magnificent doofus, of course he misses you!"

Blaine flinches at Wes' frustrated tone. "Excuse me?"

"Whatever you think that he feels for you – pure professionalism or just friendship or even hate because you left and never talked to him again – you're wrong, alright? And I haven't said anything earlier because I wanted you to figure it out on your own but it seems like you never will, so Blaine, here it comes." Wes takes a deep breath. "Kurt. Has. Feelings. For you. He's miserable without you, even though he tries not to let it show. So are you going to do something about those feelings or not?"

Blaine hangs his head. "I pretty much got the same lecture from Cooper a few days ago, so I guess I should," he notes, rubbing his face – but he can feel warmth spreading into his body, hopes and expectations and pure unadulterated joy. He has always trusted Wes' judgement, ever since he made the mistake of not listening to him before the Gap attack. He thinks about the words Kurt said to him, the way he looked at him, and maybe Blaine did interpret everything wrong because of his fears and insecurities. Even if he's still scared, even if he might still fail and make his fears a reality, he needs to try. For Kurt. For himself. For both of them.

Kurt deserves someone who's willing to be brave and give it a try, someone as courageous as he is himself. Someone who isn't afraid of failing anymore. If Kurt lets him, Blaine is willing to spend the rest of his life trying to prove Kurt – and himself – that he can do that. That he can be just Blaine, and maybe that'll be enough.

"Cooper's speech was a bit more eloquent though," he adds after a while, banging the back of his head against the wall. It stings a little, but that's how life goes. The sting will fade, eventually, and once it's faded enough you can move on. Perhaps move on together with someone else who has dealt with his own stings in the past.

"Well he doesn't have to deal with two love-sick idiots," Wes quips. "And if you need a job, I have a friend who works in a middle school in our district. He might be able to help you out. I mean... If you still want to come here and stop being a doofus."

Blaine laughs, really laughs for the first time in months, lets all the caged feelings inside of him spread their wings and make the bars of their prison rattle.

-

There's a knock on the door late one evening, and Kurt leaves his coffee on the table and gets up from the sofa, phone pressed against his ear, still listening to Rachel going on and on about her wardrobe problem on the other end of the line. The person at the door is probably just the doorman dropping something off or alternatively the Chinese take-out that Kurt ordered ages ago and that has taken way too long to get here. He is so not leaving a tip this time.

"Look, Rachel, that dress is not the best choice, trust me," he continues as he walks to the door and opens the security lock first – the only thing that has changed in his apartment since the stalker. Well, not the only thing. There's always the absence of Blaine as well.

Rachel starts to defend the dress they're talking about, a horrendous blue-and-yellow atrocity, and Kurt holds the phone between his shoulder and his ear with a smile, rolling his eyes as he presses the door handle. "No, Rachel, listen to me –"

The words die on his lips when he opens the door. Blaine is standing in the hallway, smiling hesitantly and looking at Kurt like he's an oasis in the middle of a desert. Blaine's curls are a little longer and wilder, his cheeks flushed and his hands resting calmly on his sides, but other than that he looks the same as he did over three months ago. Except the last time Kurt saw him he had dark curtains covering his face and he was avoiding Kurt's eyes infuriatingly; now his face is open, completely readable and present, and the desperate hope in his eyes is enough to knock Kurt off his feet. It's certainly enough to take his breath away.

Kurt stares at him, blinking his eyes a few times to make sure he isn't imagining things, and then the tinny voice coming from his phone registers in his mind, snapping him back to reality. "Rachel. I'm going to have to call you back," he says and hangs up, cutting Rachel off mid-sentence.

It's silent for a moment, both of them just standing there looking at each other, time moving on around them, Blaine's hands shifting a little until they find the pockets of his jeans and slip in, making Blaine roll nervously on the balls of his feet.

"Hi," he eventually breathes out.

That's all it takes for Kurt to fall all over again. He probably never even fell out in the first place.