Kurt was still reeling himself from the events of last week. It was hard to come to terms with what had happened, and till now he still did not understand a single thing. He found it hard to get any shut eye at all. If hes not jolting out of slumber, screaming from nightmares, he was laying wide awake on his bed, his mind wandering back to that burning warehouse, where he saw a piece of the blazing roof falling from the sky, breaking flames where Blaines body laid.

When Kurt had emerged out of the burning building, practically a S.W.A.T team was waiting. He was enfolded in a blanket and thrown into the back of an ambulance where he was taken to the hospital, and treated both physically, emotionally and mentally, but nothing worked of course. He was still speechless, and he truly didnt know how he was ever going to find a voice ever again. The doctors discharged him nonetheless, ruling it out that he was still in a state of shock. Even Kurt didnt know what was wrong with him. He didnt know anything at all because it feels like everyone around him had been lying to him. How was he suppose to be okay?

"Kurt!" yells his father, Burt, from the living room. "Kurt, come up here."

At least one good thing came out of all of this. After seeing his father getting shot right in front of his eyes, a part of him accepted that he would be an orphan should he survive that kidnap, but thankfully the bullet missed any bones at all and what his father had was only a wound that should heal up in about a month or so. No permanent injuries, no permanent damage, no impairment- nothing. That was something to be thankful for.

As Kurt dreadfully climbs the stairs, willing himself not to crumble to the ground from his starvation, from his wearisome, from his complete disinterest in life in general, he wonders what happened to that man who shot Blaine, and who apparently had killed his mother too. He certainly did not die. He took off before Kurt had gotten the chance to kill him. Maybe the authorities had caught him? Who knows. Kurt didnt get to stick around after he emerged from that burning building after all. He was too much of a crying, wounded mess to be allowed to stick around. Arriving in the kitchen, the smell of chicken soup climbs up his nostrils but it immediately makes him sick. He had no appetite for anything. He hadnt eaten anything at all- not the hospital food, not the anxiety pills, not breakfast. Water he drank when he took a shower was all that was keeping him alive.

Walking gradually down the hallway, Kurt glances to the mirror hung on the right and shudder at the wound of his cheek that was bandaged but still oozing a little bit of blood. It stung when it made contact with water, but oddly enough the pain distracted him from the more severe damage in his heart. The ghost of the knife was still lingering on it when Kurt ran his fingers across the slit.

Kurt knew why his father had called for his presence. Today was the day the CIA had informed them that they would be coming over to explain everything. Truthfully, despite Kurts desperation to know what and why, a part of him wasnt quite ready to know everything. He was still clinging on to that boy Kurt knew, that boy whom had swept him off his feet with charm and grace and confidence, the boy whom kissed him, the boy whom danced with him at prom. That was the boy Kurt knew, and he wasnt ready for somebody to tell him that that was all pretense-- even though Blaine had tried to convince Kurt it was true in his hour of death.

Stepping into the living room, Kurt is greeted with three people. There was his dad, who was seated on his usual single sofa couch, thigh wrapped in a cast while he healed. The other was an African-American man whom Kurt does not recognize, but judging from his uniform and his badges pinned on his collar, he was somebody of high authority. The other was a man of average height, hair curly and auburn, spectacles sitting on his nose bridge, but his face is red and there are plasters place all over his cheeks. His arm is held in a sling and when he sees Kurt, he forces a smile. No doubt trying to give Kurt some comfort, but truly that was no use.

"Hello, Kurt. How are you doing?" ask the African-American.

"Lets skip the formalities. How about you just sit your ass down and start explaining to us what we dont know that we need to," demands Burt. Its funny. Even in his injured state, he could still put a person in his place. The man obviously had never been spoken to quite like that before. A brief look of discomfort flashes across his face before he reluctantly nods and fills the seat on the couch, the smaller following suit as Kurt took a seat on the plastic chair across the coffee table from them.

"Where would you like me to start?" ask the man, the question directing to no one in general, but Burt answers in a swift second.

"Why the hell does it involve my dead wife seems like a good start to me," says Burt.

"You wife, as you know, was one of the lead research scientist in Columbia University," says the man, telling them what they already knew. Burt simply nods, his eyes still wide and expectant at the two. "I dont know if she has ever told you about the Elizabeth Project."

"What the hell is that?" ask Burt, sounding more defensive than curious.

"That is a project the government funded for her to find a solution for some environmental crisis," explains the man. Everything about Kurts mothers job was new information to him. He never truly got to know anything about his mothers career. She always kept it to herself. In the past, Kurt believed it was because she wanted to separate family and work, but now- it just seems like she was lying to them. "The government funded a few other research scientist, but ultimately your wife found the greatest solution of them all."

"How come she never told me any of this?" ask Burt, hostility and resentment riddled in his tone.

"We are not sure, mister Hummel. Maybe she did that to protect you and your family," says the man, choosing his words carefully because deep down he knew that despite Burts injured state, his crutches were as good as any lethal weapon.

"What did she need to protect us from? If it was just work, she had no reason to keep anything from us unless people made her to," spits Burt. He clearly was not enjoying looking like the out-of-loop husband.

"Maybe she did that because of the threats she received," explains the man. "Through the course of her progression, there were the occasional threat. We did not know exactly who they were from, but that could be the reason she kept it away from you and Kurt. To protect you-"

"Dont try to presume my wifes actions, okay? I know my wife, and if she hid something from us, I know it had to be for our own good. Dont try to patronize me. Move on with this," says Burt. Kurt simply sits there, listening to even facet of information they were told, trying to piece this whole thing together in his head. Silence could do wonders for the brain.

"Right then," sighs the man. He clearly was always of a position of power, but in this circumstance, he was nothing more than a man who endangered the lives of two people. "At first we thought your wifes murderer was a man named Lucius Dame, his face was captured leaving the crime scene, but it has come to our attention that it was a bigger plot, orchestrated by one of our own. Sebastian Smythe together with Lucius Dame. These two were after your wifes creation, and their sole purpose was for wealth. But when they came to steal it from her, Elizabeth had hidden her creation here instead. In Lima, Ohio. Thus why the came here."

"So youre telling me that one of your agents, one literally right under your nose, was behind the whole operation of killing and stealing from my dead wife and you werent observant enough to notice that? Is that what youre telling me? That youre an incompetent little piece of shit?" snaps Burt.

"Mister Hummel, please understand. If I had known agent Smythe was behind the whole thing-"

"Then explain to me why you didnt know and cost my wife her life, and dont tell me its because this Smythe guy played his cards very well because youre the fucking CIA. If you cant even handle your own agents, how the hell is this country suppose to depend on you for security?" says Burt. He was riled up, but for good reason. Kurt sighs deep within. He really was not ready to hear all of this, but it was now or he would never know what really happened.

"I am truly sorry for your loss, mister Hummel. If I could have stopped it, I would have," defends the man. He was practically shifting in his seat.

"Get on with it," demands Burt as he settles back into his seat, but his eyes are still glaring at the man. The smaller one simply sits there in silence, maybe too ashamed to speak.

"We knew that Elizabeths attacker was going to track down where she had hidden her creation, and we knew then that it would put you and Kurt in danger, but because we did not want to alarm you and your family, we sent an agent to go undercover to retrieve it without your knowledge-"

"Without my knowledge," scoffs Burt. "Heres a question for ya, chief, it you knew that having my wifes creation would have put us in grave danger, why didnt you just come knocking at my fucking door and tell me that?"

"Because we did not want to alarm your family and you, because we figured you had undergone a tragedy already it was best to let you mourn-"

"So you decide to have a moral conscience for once, huh?" shoots Burt. He was furious, Kurt knew, and frankly so was he even if he didnt actually showed his dismay. "Get on with it."

It was clear how belittle the man felt by Burts words. You could see it in his eyes- regret, humiliation. It was oddly satisfying because this man was the captain of this "secret undercover mission." If it wasnt for him, maybe more than one life could have been spared. Kurt remains silent, judging every information that comes to him. There was no point asking who that agent was because Kurt knew. Hes right. Meeting Blaine was not fate after all. It was a carefully orchestrated plan.

"The agent we sent goes by the name of Blaine Anderson," tells the man, and it was like a shot right in his chest, a bullet lodge in his rib cage. The smaller man glances over at Kurt, but quickly withdraws when Kurt glared at him. "He was sent here- to befriend Kurt, to gain his trust and to hopefully retrieve what we needed-"

"As if my son hadnt gone through enough, you decided to send someone to deceit him? You people are fucking unbelievable when you could have save all of us the fucking trouble. Honestly, all this was so fucking unnecessary. How the hell did they appoint you the chief, huh?" spits Burt. Kurt did not know what to make of it. He never had any doubts about Blaine, not once. Maybe the boy was an expert at pretending. He was a part of this circus group anyway. The man chooses to ignore Burt, but his cheeks does burn red.

"Mister Hummel, please try to understand how it was from our point of view. It seemed like a better plan at the time-"

"At the time? Your incompetence cost more lives than one, you do know that, right?" stabs Burt. He wasnt going to let the man up the surface for air at all. This must have been worst than having a gun held up at his head for the man, but Kurt tried to see it from the mans perception. Maybe it did seem like the best decision at the time, but i certainly did not work out so well.

"I am well aware of that, sir, and it weighs heavily on my conscience-"

"Frankly Im wondering if you even have one, chief. Explain to me how the man who killed my wife ended up at my doorstep and kidnapped my son and risked his life when all this while, you claim to have been watching us. Explain that," inquisitions Burt.

"Lucius Dames accomplice, Sebastian Smythe-"

"One of your agents," reminds Burt. He clearly was not going to let the man refer to Sebastian as an outlaw when he clearly was suppose to be a part of the CIA. It embarrassed him, everyone could see that. He was the director after all. He was suppose to have a wider observation.

"Yes, well as he was a part of the CIA team, he was able to conceal the files and documents that we needed to trace Lucius. Believe me, it is still baffling how we did not trace the infiltration back to our own office and I can assure you, were trying to resolve that matter," tells the man. Burt remains quiet, eyes raging of disgust. Maybe the mans assurance was enough for him, or maybe its because his painkillers are starting to wear off and that bullet wound is started to hurt again. "Because he managed to conceal the files and wipe out any trace at all of Lucius Dame, we did not realize he was heading here up till about a few hours before the train arrived. When we did catch him, Sebastian helped him escape and they took Kurt in captive to bait our agent Blaine into saving him in trade for the your wifes creation. And Im sure you knew what happened from there, I dont want to relive Kurts memory of that."

"Nice moral touch," sardonically says Burt. "So now wheres the this Sebastian and Lucius guy?"

"We have Lucius in our custody. He tried to escape from the burning warehouse but we had agents surrounding the premises shortly when the place started to go ablaze. He will be trialled and sentenced for murder and extortion," tells the man. He inhales deeply, glances to the smaller man beside him before he resumes. "But Sebastian Smythe got away."

"Im sorry. Could you repeat that again?" says Burt, leaning forward in his seat, eyes riddled with disbelief.

"He got away-"

"After he shot Blaine," says Kurt, and suddenly all eyes are on him. Even he found it surprising that he had a voice at all. Maybe that memory triggered him- that man, Sebastian, in a brawl with Blaine, the deafening gun shot, Blaine falling backwards with blood starting to pool on his shirt and drip from the cage bridge.

"Yes, after that," regretfully tells the man. "We havent stopped searching for him, if it helps to know, Kurt."

"So what happens now, hm?" ask Burt, because this was after all the goal of this little meet up; for the CIA to give the Hummels family a full explanation and to advise them on the next step.

Kurt is still trying to process this information. Blaine was pretending. He had been pretending to lie the entire time, deceiving him for his own personal agenda, but he never knew- not until Blaines final hour. So how long exactly was he going to pretend? Until he left, and in his wake leaving Kurt to feel rejected? What was Blaines plan, he would never know because he was gone.

"Now, we would need you to file some form of testimony to whatever Lucius said to you, Kurt. To help convict him. We dont have any form of evidence aside from how he was brought on as a suspect only," tells the man. Kurt wasnt sure he was ready to face that man- who helped, or did kill his mother. In that second, Kurt remembers what Blaine had given to him before he passed. Kurt searches in his pocket and pulls out th contents.

"Blaine said to give you this," says Kurt. He does not bother to know the contents. He only had a brief look at them earlier in the day prior to knowing the chief of the CIA would be coming over. The man takes it gingerly and studies them in his hand. He holds it up and Kurt catches sight of it- a tiny circular black object he had no name for, and his bracelet. The one his mother had given it to him..but why would Blaine-

"Thats the Elizabeth Discovery, sir," tells the smaller of the two. "Blaine had told me it was stored in the charm of that bracelet. Its a flash drive." This was new to Kurt. He hadnt known that at all, but apparently Blaine did. Yet another thing he was deceived of. Blaine never really was interested to know the origin of that bracelet. He had his own agenda.

"This is it then? Sebastian didnt get away with it," tells the man.

"I guess not," says the smaller man, a small grin forms on his face. "Blaine succeeded after all."

"Yeah, he succeeded lying to me," says Kurt, startling every one in the room. He could feel his fathers eyes burning into him with concern. Burt knew how lonely Kurt was, and when Blaine waltzed into his life, everything changed for him. To know it had all been a lie..pretty much killed him.

"So is that all you need then?" ask Burt, breaking the sardonic abrupt silence.

"Did you recover his body? Blaines?" ask Kurt. He did not know why this would interest him considering how he resented the boy now, for his constant stream of lies but maybe his subconscious needed to know what his heart told him he didnt.

"Yes, we did. What was left of his body, at least."

That is it then, Blaine is dead. Blaine is gone and not even his body laid in peace- but did the boy even deserve that decency? Did Kurt want his body to lay in peace after his lies, after he made Kurt out to be a fool. He couldnt believe he actually thought he loved Blaine. He felt so exploited to the point that a tear streamed down his cheek. It was all too overwhelming for him.

"I think I would like you two to leave now," says Kurt. He did not care for his fathers approval, to dismiss them because he couldnt bear to look at the faces of the people who help orchestrated this lie, this facade. Thankfully, Burt did not oppose either.

"Were sorry we caused an inconvenience-"

"An inconvenience is a fucking understatement. Get the hell out of my house," says Kurt, surprising even himself but he was done sitting here and being fed the truth of the lie he so gullibly believed. How did it never cross his mind that nobody could love him, and the love he though he felt from Blaine was all a lie. It wouldnt even be a surprise if the boys final words were a lie, because he knew this would all unravel in his wake and he did not want to seem like the pathological liar that he was. He wanted his dignity to be intact even when he passed, but that was out of the picture.

Blaine was an ultimate liar.

"I want to know when you catch that Sebastian guy," adds Burt as the two men get to their feet and is about to shamefully exit. The taller one halts in his stance and turns to face Burt.

"Dont worry, we have one of our best agents to track him, someone I know who wouldnt stop until justice is served," says the man, briefly glancing at Kurt before he leaves.

Kurt ignores his fathers calls as he runs to his bed room, heart heavy and mind threatening to implode. Every kiss, every touch, every word was a lie. Nothing Blaine said or did was the truth. All he did was try to gain his trust to get to his bigger objective- not to Kurts heart, but for something of his career. How did he tell himself that he could be loved? He couldnt. He was merely a piece in this lie, a gateway for Blaine to get what he needed. He had never felt so exploited in his life, and as Kurt buried his face into that pillow, he wondered if he would ever recover from this.

But in that second, the sound of a ringtone catches his attention, and it came from right here in his bed room. It was a generic ringtone, no song, nothing, just a monotonous beep. It definitely wasnt his. Kurt follows the sound and realizes it came from the tuxedo jacket he wore on that faithful night on Blaines death. He hadnt touched nor looked at it at all. It was pooled on the floor of his closet. The only thing was, he didnt quite know what was ringing considering his own cellphone was stored in the drawer of his night stand but he searches the pockets of the jacket anyway and to his surprise, finds Blaines cell phone in the two lower pockets. But how? He did not remember Blaine giving that to him to give to the CIA. The only objects he was given was what he already gave to that African-American man. Curious, Kurt click on the home button and a message bar fills the screen.

In the white virtual message box, sent to this phone only recently, is an address.

-------------

Five more days past. It has now been approximately two weeks since that night at the warehouse. That night that would probably haunt him forever. The huge cut on his cheek has more or less healed, but in its wake leaves a ghastly long scar. Kurt could cover it up with foundation, no problem, but he refused to because it was a testimony and reminder that everything with Blaine was a lie.

Sleep was still an abstract idea. The second he remotely shut his eyes, he could only picture that blade gliding across his cheek, the pain that traveled right down to his very core, the desperation to remedy it with his hands but they were restricted, tied behind his back. Every time he closed his eyes he could see his father being shot followed by a long and loud shrill of pain. Every time he closed his eyes he pictured the gun held to his head, the fear coursing through him, the refusal to die. Every time he close his eyes, he pictured that bullet flying across the air in lightning speed, hitting square at Blaines chest. Every time he closed his eyes, he pictured Blaine lying there motionless as the flames swallows him up.

Burts voice calling his name is what pulls Kurt from his reverie. He hadnt realized hed been sitting in front of the vanity table, simply starring at his reflection and trying to recognized the person starring back at him. This broken, heart shattered, stupid person. This person he did not find familiar. This person was stupid enough to let his walls down for some boy, who manipulated him and made him a part of some plot. No, the person he recognized would not have done that.

"Someones here to see you," tells Burt as Kurt arrived at the front door. On the door step stood Jacob Ben Israel, or JBI for those who couldnt bother with his longer name; e.g Everyone.

"Hey Kurt," greets the boy. His hair is still a deep toned auburn, eyes still hidden behind glasses. He is dressed in a denim shirt and dark jeans with a pair of Chuck Taylors to complement his casual look. This was so far fetched from his past self, Kurt wondered if he ever looked himself in the mirror and tried to recognized the person that stood opposite him too.

"Hi Jacob," greets Kurt. It would be rude not to acknowledge him after all. Besides, in the course of the few days, Kurt had someone found a voice again. Very timid, and almost not audible at all, but a voice nonetheless. Jacobs eyes briefly glances to the scar on Kurts face, but he withdraws quickly, obviously realizing it was rude. "What are you doing here?"

"I just wanted to see how you were. Can I come in?" politely ask Jacob.

"Sure," says Kurt, even though he was so reluctant to have any company at all, especially those who reminded him of Blaine, and this guy right here practically worshiped the ground Blaine walked on. "Dad, can you give us some privacy?"

"Okay," says Burt as he slowly limps to the kitchen. His wound has not completely healed yet, but he is making excellent progress. He refused the crutches are tripping on them on his own, so now he endured the pain when he walked. The doctors said he should be fine in another week or so, which was a relief.

Jacob awkwardly steps into the house, eyes shifting from left to right as he took in the mess. It was messy after all. Neither Kurt nor Burt bothered to clean it- if they werent resting in their own rooms, they were watching TV, but never on the dinner table. It wasnt that Kurt was mad at his father, its just that he couldnt exactly face him. Every facet of the truth was too much for them to handle it was bound to cause some form of sardonic energy between them.

"How have you been?" ask Jacob as he falls onto the couch, hands resting on his knees.

"Recovering. You?" ask Kurt. He knew Jacob has been told of every single thing. Apparently the chief of CIA had to give a full on explanation to the school and how their little ordeal brought danger to the school. Kurt couldnt be bothered to attend. Not that he needed to. All that was left was to graduate because all the test have been done.

"Still trying to process the information I guess," says Jacob. A short awkward silence fills the air between them. It was Blaine that was the glue that kept the little fight club together. Now that hes gone, they resume their quos. "Who could have figured, huh? That Lance- sorry, Blaine- was a secret agent."

"Yeah, who could have figured," shrugs Kurt, because it killed him that he didnt. That he was so gullible to believe a facade. A illusion of love.

"Puckerman was granted two years of probation. No jail time," tells Jacob. This was new news to Kurt. He hadnt heard what happened to Puckerman. What he was told when they received a phone call from the chief of CIA was that the objects that Blaine had left to Kurt for the CIA had been more than valid evidence to put Lucius Dame away for a long time. Apparently that little circular object was a video recording device that recorded every word those man, Sebastian and Lucius said. That was good news at least, to know half of his mothers killed was sent behind bars. "Apparently the judge ruled Puckerman out because they said he was obeying orders, and that he was influenced or something."

Kurt truly did not know what to feel about that. Sure, Puckerman did save technically save his life by pulling him out of that burning building before the fire got too raging for escape, but did that mean he should be exonerated? He still helped kidnap Kurt. Did that not mean anything to the judge and jury? Kurt had refused to be put on the stand and relieve that night. It was just too horrifying to share in detail.

"Personally I think they should sentence him to death," shrugs Jacob, but a look of regret crosses over his face. Maybe he thought the word death was hard for Kurt to hear, and it was. "Have you gotten any sleep at all? You look like you drank so much coffee you havent slept in like fifty years."

"Why the hell would you care?" snaps Kurt. It surprised even Kurt. Maybe his walls were up again- the walls he put up to keep people at a safe disregard distance when his mother passed away but it wasnt as if he wasnt thinking it. Why would Jacob care if he has been sleeping or not? They were never friends before Blaine was in the picture. "What is this? Just so you can feel moral?"

"Im just asking. Jeez, relax," says Jacob, frowning at the sudden hostility. "Im your friend, Kurt. And I guess, also because Lance- sorry, Blaine- really cared about you so I guess in a way to honor him, I wanted to make sure you were okay on his behalf-"

"He lied to you, Jacob!" stabs Kurt. He wasnt going to sit here and listen to Jacob defend a person who clearly only had the conscience to look out for the greater good of his bloody career. "He lied to me, he lied to you, he lied to all of us just so he could get to some stupid assignment for his career! He is a pathological liar, a trained secret agent to be a manipulative bastard and to lie and deceive his way into getting a job done!"

Jacob stares at Kurt, completely taken aback by the sudden outburst but it had been long coming. Kurt had been silent enough and finally, he could speak his true thoughts to someone he didnt care if judged him. That was what Blaine was- a trained liar. Nothing that came out of that mans mouth was even close to the truth- not the stupid star theory, not the compliments, not the kisses and definitely, without a doubt, not the words Kurt had been waiting to hear at Blaines final breath. He was a born and bred liar.

"You might think that, Kurt," sighs Jacob as he leans forward in his seat, eyes meeting Kurts which were now watery. "But he never lied. At least, thats what I choose to believe. I guess his assignment was to retrieve some stupid document from you, but the person I met wasnt a liar. The person I met genuinely wanted to help me, help us, stand up for ourselves and not be tormented. The person I met taught me to defend myself and the person I met didnt give up on me when I seek help. That wasnt part of his mission, Kurt, and even though you might think he lied- he never did. I knew he was mad for you, I know that."

"You believe he was. You dont know. Nobody knows because hes a-"

"Hes not a liar," interjects Burt, much to Kurts surprise. He hadnt realized his father had been eavesdropping on them. "Hes not a liar, not to the way he felt about you anyway."

"You dont know that, dad," says Kurt. Why was everyone siding with the person? That snake.

"I do know, actually," says Burt. He falls to the arm rest on the sofa Kurt and Jacob were seated on and places a comforting grip on Kurts shoulder. "I know because- because I saw the way he looked at you. I know because thats how your mother looked at me."

"You could be wrong-"

"I could be," shrugs Burt, but he still is so sure of himself. "But then again I would know how a person would look at another when theyre in love because I was in love, and she was with me. You dont know, Kurt, youre too young to know what love is and what it looks like but I do. I know youre trying to believe the alternative because its just easier to hate than to love, but Blaine did love you. No matter how much you try to tell yourself to resent him just because youre too scared to deal with him not being gone."

"Your fathers right," chimes Jacob, but Kurt wasnt going to sit here and listen to people tell him otherwise. The truth was blatant- Blaine was a liar, how come everyone was still defending his honor? Frustrated, Kurt gets to his feet and retreats to his bedroom without another word to either of them. He slams the door, buries his face into his pillow and, much to his surprise, cries.

-----------

It had been a month and a half since that tragic night. Apparently the world had somehow found out about the events that transpired in this very town, and every since the news broke out, the town has been filled with tourist from different parts of America.

But today, Kurt was smiling. He was smiling because it was graduation and he had longed for the day to leave this school completely. Before, it was only for the reasons of those bullies, but come recent events, this school weighed heavily on him due to the bittersweet memories he had of Blaine. He could not wait to leave, and attend New Yorks School of Design Arts. It was the school he had been dreaming to go to since forever- a secret desire, if you will. It was baffling to him when the enrollment letters came in the mail but apparently the board had seen a couple of his sketches Kurt had uploaded onto his instagram account way back when. Who knew Instagram would be his ticket in? It took no convincing at all to get his father on board with the idea, almost as if he had been preparing for it.

Adorned in his red gown and matching graduation hat, Kurt smiles in the mirror. He had chose to let all of his baggage go. It was weighing him down too much and he needed a clean slate. He wondered once before how he would recover from everything, but the recovery came in the mail. Those acceptance letters, those enrollment forms was a testament for a new beginning. To hope again. It was funny how a school could pull him from the swamp hed been drowning in, but it was more than a school for Kurt. It was a fresh start that he needed so badly. It was a second chance in life.

The school field is littered with people dressed in head to toe red. You could barely tear anyone apart from anyone because everyone looked similar dressed in the drowning red gown but that was okay. Even though Kurt wished he could tweak the gown here and there, he was thankful to blend with the crowd a little. He had been the talk of the town so much lately it was nice to actually be unrecognizable. He even had the decency to cover up his scar to make sure nobody knew it was him because that scar on his cheek now gave his identity away.

"I cant believe my only son is graduating high school!" proudly bellows Burt as he pulls Kurt into yet another spine crushing hug. Burt has been doing this since the start of the day Kurt was truly wondering how many more hugs his spine could bear. "Proudest moment of my life!"

"Thanks, dad," says Kurt as his father pulls apart from him. As he gazed upon his sweet fathers face, the sunlight illuminating him in a bright glow, he thanked the heavens up above that despite the people so brutally taken away from him in his life, this man still stood standing above all else. His leg has healed completely which now meant he was more than fit to handle himself when Kurt inevitably leaves for college.

"Calling all parents, friends and graduates, please take a seat," says principal Sue Sylvester. The crowd was so thick that Kurt was bumped and shoved as he tried to find his place. Some male with blond hair had bumped into him square in the chest and muttered sorry under his breath when Kurt almost fell backwards to the ground. Finally, making it through the sea of people, Kurt emerged and found his seat next to Tina. It didnt quite make sense considering their sur names werent exactly in alphabetical order, but everybody showed such disregard to the place cards because they want to seat with their friends.

"Were going be alumnis in a few minutes!" excitedly shrieks Tina clapping her hands together in an accelerated pace. She was clearly pumped to graduate, and for good reason because she had been accepted at Brown University. Kurt couldnt be prouder, despite how it boost up her ego even more.

The tradition begins with the valedictorian of the class taking his place so sanctimoniously above everybody else- in this case, it was Jacob, in which he couldnt be prouder. He runs along a long speech above ho appreciative he is of the teachers, and on the behalf on the student body, he would like to thank principal Sylvester for being a find role model for the students to follow which, to be honest, he was probably paid to say by the devil herself. Jacob continues to ramble about our future endeavors, that is until he reaches a part that actually draws Kurts attention.

"Senior year was special to me because I befriended someone who was-- the kindest person Ive ever met," says Jacob, and even though he hadnt mention any names, a part of Kurt, the subconscious part that always anticipated things before Kurt could, knew who Jacob was talking about. "He was- the kind of person I wanted to be. A people person, a person who never expected any form of remuneration for helping help, someone who encouraged me to defend myself by telling me that the greatest feeling you will ever get is when you stand up for what you believe in. A person who, above all else, had a genuine heart."

As Jacob leaves the podium, the ghost of Blaine fleets through Kurt. Did he miss the boy? He couldnt lie and say he didnt, but he wanted to move on. Whether the boys feelings were true or not, Kurt refused to dwell over it. He was gone anyway, and Kurt had a life in front of him. A life he couldnt wait to start living.

The big projection screen lights up with the pretentious pictures of the the graduates over the course of the year. Most of these were no doubt taken off Facebook or whatever social documenting accounts that coexisted, but when one of Kurt and Blaine surfaces- a picture of them standing at the corridor by Kurts locker, smiling to each other, he had to admit it did stabbed his heart- by a lot. He remembered that day- Kurt was rambling on about how excited he was for prom as Blaine stood there, beaming at him. Was that a lie as well? No, Kurt refused to go there. Did he still resent the boy? Not as much, but he also would not allow himself submerged in his memories.

The whole ceremony starts to draw to a close. Accepting his diploma was by far Kurts proudest moment. He glances over to the cheering crowd where his father is on his two healthy legs, cheering and clapping him on. In the back row were a few other people who were on their feet as well but Kurt didnt quite know who they were. Finally, principal Sylvester orders them to switch the positions of their tassels and the entire audience erupts in a deafening cheer, the music of Good Riddance by Green Day blasting through the speakers and a weight lifts off Kurts shoulders. This is the closing of a chapter for him and he couldnt be happier to leave this town and all the memories that came with it behind.

Tina attacks Kurt with a tight hug that was so unexpected but definitely welcomed. "Weve graduated, Kurt! Oh my god, Im going to miss you so much! Please dont ever forget me when you go to New York! Ill write to you every single day and send pictures of my outfits every single day solely for your approval!" cries the girl.

"I look forward to it, Tina," says Kurt, and though he tells himself he cannot wait to leave his hell hole of a school, there were of course things he would miss, and people he wasnt ready to let go of. Like Tina.

The next ritual is for the graduates and their families to proceed to the tent behind the graduation ceremony for a buffet lunch, and for pictures and speeches and performances. Kurt had never truly looked forward to this event because in the past, he assumed he would be in the corner, watching everybody mingle around in their own cliques but it was not true at all. He had people come and demand pictures with him, and wished him a prosperous life ahead- which is even worse than what he thought he would have to endure because he knew everybody was only doing this because they felt sorry for him, and he hated pretense.

"You okay, kiddo? Not having second thoughts of New York, are you?" ask Burt, and it sounds strangely hopeful. He was encouraging when they received the enrollment letters for Kurts dream school, but Burt wasnt ready to let his only son leave for the big city. It was a scary thought for any father to come to terms with.

"No, dad. Im excited, just- I dont know," shrugs Kurt because he couldnt very well tell his father that ha hated being the object of everyones fake empathy.

Kurt scans the crowd to the center, where most of the graduates were gathered in snapping pictures for their instagram accounts to hashtag yet another stupid and nonsensical caption. He felt truly sorry for these bunch of pretentious people, but as the crowd clears and Kurt gets a clear sight of the other side of the venue, his chest constricts when he finds Puckerman standing by the juice counter, graduation attire on but instead of mingling with his peers, he just stands there, staring up at the sky. Kurt didnt know what pulled his drew his attention, but he finds himself on his feet and walking towards the boy who is in no way observant to his presence.

"Hi," says Kurt, startling the boy from whatever memory he was consumed it. He says nothing, neither do his eyes. Kurt did not know what to say either. Strike him, possibly?

"Out of all these people, I never thought youd be the one to talk to me first," says the boy.

"Nobody came to talk to you? Hm, I wonder why," sardonically says Kurt, but surprisingly, the boy burns red with embarrassment and his eyes drop to study the Earth beneat them, but as he stared at this boy, Kurt did not know what got into him but he sort of felt-- sorry for the boy? Sympathy. The last emotion he expected.

Puckerman was only a boy, a young boy much like Kurt but he was raped of the modicum of innocence he had. He was influenced but his uncle apparently, told to do something without question. He had to obey because it was his family. Would Kurt have obeyed if his father asked him to do something- yes he would with no question. Puckerman was not the one to blame here. He was too young to know the reprecussions..and now he would have to live with it all his life.

"I never thanked you," says Kurt.

"What the fuck do you have to thank me for?" says Puckerman, baffled by Kurts words.

"For saving me. Pulling me out of that warehouse," says Kurt.

"I think you have more to hate me than to thank me," says Puckerman, head falling. It was different to see Puckerman wallow in regret, and to see him accept that he was wrong-- it was eye opening to watch Puckerman express remorse. "Im so sorry, Kurt."

"Puck-"

"Im so sorry I almost got you killed, Im so sorry I lead him to you, Im so sorry I endangered your father, Im sorry I got-- him killed. I never meant for any of that to happen and they promised me- they promise that nobody would get killed and it was just to scare you into giving them what they wanted. I didnt know," says Puckerman, and hell must have frozen over because Puckerman begins to sob, tears falling to the ground, staining his red gown with water marks.

"I dont blame you for any of it, Puck," says Kurt. "And you dont have to blame yourself either." Wanting a closure, Kurt steps forward and wraps the boy full of regrets into a comforting hug. In this moment, Kurt blamed nothing on Puckerman. He held nothing of it against him because truthfully, it was never his fault and as Puckerman reciprocated the gesture, going on a mantra of Im Sorrys Kurt knew he made the right decision.

"What was going on over there?" ask Burt as Kurt returned to his table, where his father has a mouthful of croissants in his mouth.

"Closure," smiles Kurt, because that was what it was. The final chapter to what had been an extremely bittersweet final year in this school. He was so ready to move forward now, more than ever. "Would you quit eating like a bear?"

"Sorry, Im a hungry person," defends Burt. "Oh, by the way, some guy just came up and told me congratulations on your graduation. Some guy with blond hair, know him?"

"Nope," says Kurt.

"Ah, lots of people are congratulating everybody today. So, what are you gonna do after this? You have another five days before youre off to New York," reminds Burt.

"I think Im just gonna hang out with my friends a little bit, do you mind driving home by yourself?" ask Kurt, because he had plans with Tina and Marley for some post-high-school, pre-college shopping to do, and he could really use it considering shopping was still the best form of therapy there was.

"Kurt, my leg is completely fine. Go, have fun with your friends but make sure you come home with corn-dogs, alright?" says Burt as cleans his mouth with a napkin. "Hey, listen kid, your mother would have been so proud of you."

A smile pulls across Kurts father, a smile that has been long time coming. That was the sentence that broke him, and he begins to tear up with how much he wished his mother was here but Kurt knew she was in a better, happier place now. He allows his father to envelope him into a bone crushing hug before Kurt retreats to the boys locker room where all the male graduates were instructed to leave their possessions at. Tina promised to drive with him to the mall where they would meet Marley so he had to rush for his things. He reaches for his backpack on the top shelf, grabs just a hint of the strap before he pulls it, only to have his bag flap open and dumping all the contents onto the floor.

As Kurt starts to gather his things together and throwing it back into the satchel, the tell tale ringtone rings again. A ringtone he had only heard once before and swore never to look again. He didnt know how the phone ended up in there, maybe he accidentally packed it with him when he was in a rush to get out of the house. Picking it up anyway with trembling fingers, Kurt clicks on the home button and the message bar fills the screen again- with yet the same address. What is this suppose to mean?

"Kurt, are you okay?" the voice startles Kurt and he accidentally throws the phone, where it slides to Jacobs feet. Why did this boy had to be concern with him at all. Jacob picks it up and because he is a weasel who is attending Northwestern to major in Journalism, he reads the message bar printed on it. "Whats this?"

"Its nothing," says Kurt as he gets to his feet and tries to snatch the phone from the boys grasp, but his reflexes are now quick.

"Wait- this is Lance- Blaine, sorry. This is Blaines phone. I recognize it because there is a crack on the right corner of the screen. He borrowed it to me to make a call before. Why do you have his phone?" ask Jacob. He truly would be an outstanding journalist.

"Its none of your business," snaps Kurt as he tries to take the phone again, but the boy is too quick now.

"Is it any of yours either? What is this address here?" ask Jacob and he was really starting to annoy Kurt with his insistence.

"Jacob, seriously. Im having a pretty okay day for once so dont spoil it for me by being your natural busy body self. Give it back to me!" demands Kurt, but the boy does not budge.

"Im not giving it back to you until you tell me what it is, and trust me, Ill only be leaving for Northwestern in a week," threatens Jacob and at this point, Kurt knew there was no way out but to tell him.

"I found it in the pocket of my tuxedo jacket for prom. He must have slipped it in whe he was- when he was dying," says Kurt, those last few words hard to choke but he did anyway with so much force and the words Hes A Liar, Hes A Liar in his head.

"And this address?" presses Jacob, eyebrow raising in question. He really looked decent now as compared to how heinous he used to look.

"I dont know. Its an alert, from some app in that phone," says Kurt. He knew because he had the same function in his phone and the message box did resemble an alert than a text message.

"You didnt try to find out what it is?" presses Jacob even more and at this point, he was starting to get to Kurt.

"No, I didnt, Jacob," irritably responds Kurt.

"Why not?" continues the boy. He really was pushing it here.

"Because I dont want to know," exasperates Kurt. He really just wanted to get to the mall with Tina and Marley and be swarmed with clothes and shoes and other male fashion.

"Why not?" questions the boy again, and this time he really did push a button.

"Because I dont want to know, Jacob!" snaps Kurt. "Because I dont want to know, because I dont care, because Im trying to move on with my life, because I have a future ahead of me and I dont want to keep dwelling on my past, because I dont care to know more of his secrets, because Im trying to make him a ghost in my past! Happy now, Jacob? I dont want to know because I dont give a flying monkeys ass for more of his lies!"

The boy is genuinely taken aback by Kurts outburst, but he was asking for it. This day whereby it was the day of new beginnings, the start of future endeavors was the day Jacob wants to presses him on his past. He wasnt going to just stand there and be grilled as if he was on trialed for murder. He made his point- he was trying to move on, and Jacobs questions was keeping him back. In fact, that phone was keeping him back.

"You know what, Jacob?" says Kurt as he slings his satchel over his shoulder. "You can keep that phone. You seem to see through all of his facades and is his number one fan, right? You keep it. I hate its a nice memento for you to remind yourself of his genuine heart. I, on the other hand, am trying to move forward with my life. If you want to dwell over him, be my guest, but dont drag me in with you. Have a nice life, Jacob."

And with that, Kurt leaves the locker room, the school and the memories behind.

-------------

Kurt would be leaving for New York in two days. Frankly, he couldnt be more excited to be leaving his past behind, and leaving the memories he tried so hard to crawl out from. He felt like a different person, a person with hope again, but he could not lie to himself and say that something was still weighing on him. He would intentionally be oblivious to that side of him because right now, he did not need anything weighing him down to soar.

"I cant believe all my stuff are already in boxes," sighs Kurt as he joins his father on the couch. Burt hasnt yet processed Kurt leaving in a matter of days, but he is doing his best to not make poor attempts to ask Kurt to stay. It wasnt that he was trying to curtails Kurts excitement for his dream school, it was more that he wasnt ready to let go.

That is probably because, having almost lost Kurt at one point, maybe he realized that he couldnt bear to live when the two of the people he loved the most has died, but he set aside his fears for whats best for Kurt, because Burt knew that after everything his son has been through, he deserved some form of happiness. Burt also knew who helped this happiness to come, only he swore to that person that he would never say a word of it, and Burt intended to honor that wish.

"Youre going to be alright, right dad? Ill call every night and we can give commentaries on Project Runway together. Well still uphold our father, son ritual I promise," says Kurt, though he knew Burt was not exactly dreading having to watch Project Runway alone.

"Trust me kid. Our project runway ritual is the least of my worries," smiles Burt. "I have something to tell you."

"Oh? Is it another cheap remark about New Yorks crime rate? I promise to carry a pocket knife everywhere I go," responds Kurt. His father always went on a ramble about the number of people who get mugged and killed at New York every year. It was one of his ways to get Kurt to forgo New York.

"No, its not that," says Burt. He sounds tensed, as if he was nervous and afraid for this, and because Kurt has gone through so much, and with still being on anxiety pills from the nightmare he still gets every night, he wonders if he should down two and three pills just in case. "I met someone."

"You- met someone? What do you mean?" ask Kurt, confused as to why that would be of any precedence at all, but soon he understood what his father was saying. "Oh."

"Yeah, and I havent gone on a date with her or anything because I want to ask if you think thats okay. I wanted your approval, actually. As weird as that might sound," says Burt. It was rare to see his father get so nervous up to the point where he was shifting so awkwardly in his seat. "I know it might feel a little soon, especially since it hasnt been a year even, but I just-- I want to get out of this state. Of feeling so broke and down. I want to start afresh, and I think dating again might..help me feel like a person again."

Even though Kurt did feel as though his father was moving a little too fast, he understood why his father wanted to date again. Much like Kurt, dating is Burts New Yorks School of Design Arts. Dating is his fathers way of wanting a fresh start, to hope again, to live. He could not deem his father as a bad person because Kurt yearned for a new beginning as well, and apparently so did his dad. He could not tell him no, because they were the same.

"Whats her name?" ask Kurt, forcing a easing smile because it might take him some time with the concept of having his father see another woman, but he wasnt going to stop his father either. Burt pulls a relieved smile as well as he becomes less tensed.

"Carol Hudson. Shes a widow as well. In fact, I met her at your graduation ceremony. Its a funny story of how we met actually. She wanted to drive out but my car was blocking her and she sort of threw a fit at how much of a poor driver I am, but somehow we resolved that and we started talking for awhile. Her son is from your school too. Finn Hudson. Know him?" ask Burt.

"Not directly, but Ive heard of him," tells Kurt. Finn Hudson was a carbon copy of Puckerman- football star, popular- but the difference between them two was that Kurt had never seen Finn strut his status. He was more humble about it, but they never talked. Except for that one time in freshman year where Finn accidentally threw a football at him.

"Yeah, well, Carol Hudson. She asked me out to dinner tonight, and I promise- if youre not okay with it, Ill cancel," tells Burt, and he is serious about it.

"No, dad. Itll take awhile for me to get used to you dating, but I want what is best for you, and if you think that dating will make you feel like a whole person again, Im not gonna stand in your way. I want your happiness more than anything else in this world because youre the only family I got left. Besides, itll make me feel more at ease knowing youll have a companion after Im gone," smiles Kurt, and he spoke from the deepest parts of his heart.

"Thank you, kid," says Burt, resting his hand over Kurts. "But I promise you, nobody will ever replace your mother. She will always be the love of my life, and the mother of my child. I promise you that I will never forget her."

"Thank you, dad," says Kurt as he wraps his father in a hug. In this moment, despite all of his uncertainly with his feelings of having his father date another woman, he truly wanted nothing more than for his father to be happy again, even if that meant having to get used to a whole new concept.

The door bell rings in that second as Kurt and Burt pull apart from their warm hug. Kurt gets to his feet and wanders towards the door, curious as to who it was considering he had no plans with Tina nor Marley today. He had scheduled a full day of watching Gossip Girl back to back, but when Kurt pulls open the door, he almost wished he hadnt.

"Hey Kurt," greets Jacob, standing on the front porch dressed in a long black sleeve and hideous chino shorts with sneakers.

"What are you doing here, Jacob?" exasperates Kurt. The last time they talked was two days ago and it didnt really end off well. Kurt vaguely remembered an outburst that involved a person hed been trying to bury into a chest full of things he refused to talk about again. Even his father got the memo and they havent spoke of Blaine and all that crazy antics.

"Can we talk?" ask Jacob, and through his face, Kurt knew the boy had something up his sleeve. Something that would put Kurt in an awkward position.

"Im really busy. Cleaning the stove. Arent you suppose to be gone by now," says Kurt, not holding back his dismay to see the boy because he was trying to make the people Blaine was close with to a ghost of his past.

"I dont leave until Monday. Please, can we talk? Theres something really important I need to tell you and once I do, you can decide whether you want to act on it or not. If you choose now, Ill leave immediately and youll never have to deal with me again. Please?" practically begs Jacob. Kurt knew that there was no way the boy would leave until Kurt agreed to listen to him, so he really did not have a choice.

"Is this about that phone?" ask Kurt, asking a question he already knew an answer to.

"Yes, and though youre reluctant, I promise- you would want to hear this," says Jacob. With a heart heavy with reluctance, Kurt steps aside and allows the boy entry into his humble abode. Burt excuses himself to the kitchen to make a drink for Jacob, but given their last conversation that Burt eavesdropped on, there really was no doubt in Kurts mind whether his father had his ears pressed against the wall right now.

"What is it," demands Kurt as he falls to the couch and, in an attempt to show his annoyance, leans back and stares at Jacob with vacant, wary eyes.

"Okay, so you know how Im a technology whiz, right?" says Jacob, self-praising himself with a smile beaming so bright that added to his ego. "Well, I took the phone that it took me no effort at all to bypass the lock screen because really, apple products have so many chinks in their armor its a wonder to me why they even bother with adding the lock function when its not exactly secure. Anyway, I bypassed the phones passcode and hacked into the phone. That address was indeed an alert from an app. A tracking device app, but not just your average tracking device app. Its a CIA established tracking device."

"So?" says Kurt, furrowing his eyebrows to show Jacob just how disinterested he was with this information.

"It gets better, wait," says Jacob as he pulls out the familiar phone out from his pocket. I dug deeper into the phone. Aside from the address and the tracker app, there is something else in here. Its a camera app, also also restricted for the CIAs use and I discovered something inside that app. It has one restricted file that is labelled the same address as that tracker app, but initially it was locked as well until of course I bypassed it, and so look."

Jacob hands the phone over to Kurt, but Kurt simply stares at it. Uninterested, reluctant or scared to know what the elusive Jacob discovered. The seconds seem to drag on until finally Kurt mustered the courage to look. That, and also to humor the boy as hell. Holding the phone is his grasp, he looks at what Jacob had asked him to look at. The screen is filled with a video. Kurt knew it was a video because he could see the trees rustle in the wind, and the clouds dancing in the sky but what was most prominent about the video was the house that stood in the middle of the frame.

The house is a humble looking cabin that looked as if it was build in the medieval times with its wooden panels hammered to hold in its place. A small gush of wind looked as if it could wipe the house into nonexistence. The front lawn is slightly brown and bare, up towards the front porch, flowers bloomed from shrubs. There is a chimney sticking out from the roof, in black bricks with smoke fuming out of it. All in all, the house has an eccentric, unique quality. Beautiful in its own special way.

"Whose house is this?" ask Kurt, questioning why this should be of any relevance to him.

"My question exactly," says Jacob. "Whose house is this, right? And why would notifications be coming from that address? I have a theory, and I know it might sound stupid- but what if Blaine wanted you to go to it? What if this is meant for you."

"What are you even talking about, Jacob," says Kurt, annoyed by the boys stupid theory. He tosses the phone back at Jacob, refusing to let his curiosity get to him but he couldnt lie and say he wasnt wondering it himself.

"You said Blaine slid this into your pocket before he died, right? So that should mean something, otherwise why would he have done it? I think its a message for you. An instructive message from Blaine, something for you to see or to know or I dont know, but I dont think its nothing," says Jacob, and he is passionate about it, consumed in his own ridiculous ideas.

"Its probably nothing! Its probably just some bandit or some bad guy the CIA told him to keep surveillance on. In case you forgot, he is a secret agent. I was probably not his only assignment, Jacob. Youre just looking into it because youre not satisfied with whatever bromance you had with him," snaps Kurt.

"Maybe youre right, but what if youre not-"

"Oh my god, can you stop it?" shrieks Kurt, getting to his feet in rage. He could feel it in his bones- another outburst threatening its way to the surface. "I honestly dont know why youre still dwelling over him. We already know what he hid from us so why the hell are you still making up some stupid theory? We know his truth from the agency he worked for, and I am tired of this, Jacob! I am trying to move on from this, to start afresh and to forget this and he ever happened. I want to put closure to this because theres no point figuring out a pathological liar because Ive already been told what I needed to know! So can you please stop trying to pull me back into this madness just because youre not over it?"

"Youre damn right Im not over it!" says Jacob. "Im not over it because, believe what you want but I know he wasnt lying to me, or to you for that matter. I know he was sincere despite what Ive been told because nobody could have been that genuine, not even in pretense. I know there was more to him than an agent sent here for a mission. Also, if it was pretense then why the hell would he leave this to you, hm? For a memento? I doubt so. He must have known the secrets that lied in this device, so why would he have left it to you? If it was pretense, he would have died along with his secrets! But he didnt, instead he left his last secret in your possession and why is that? Because he wants you to know something."

Overwhelmed by this, Kurt falls to the couch and buries his face into his palms. It seemed as though he was never going to escape from this. From his past. He tried so hard to tell himself that he could move on in spite of everything but it wasnt true at all. As much as he tried to tell himself that he has put a closure on this, the truth was that it was still a lose end and it would forever be a lose end, but he was afraid. It was hell accepting Blaines true identity to begin with. If he went back to discover more of Blaines truth, could he recover? What did Blaine want him to know?

Jacob sighs as he takes the seat next to Kurt, placing a friendly comforting hand onto his back. "Kurt, I hate to tell you this but youll never find closure until you find out what is it that Blaine wanted you to know. The address is at a little town called Haroldtown. I Googled the distance and its about an eight hour drive from here. I know its scary after everything that youve been through, but you owe it to yourself to know Blaines truth, and not the truth the CIA is forcing you to believe. If you want to go, Ill go with you."

His mind told him it was a bad idea. His mind told him to be content with the fact that Blaine was simply an agent, sent here on a mission, sent to him for an assignment. His mind told him to accept that everything was a lie, but his heart told a different story. His heart told him that he needed to know, that Blaine did leave this for him, that Blaine wanted him to know something from his own words and not the CIAs. Above all else, Kurt knew that he needed to know because otherwise, he would live every single day of the rest of his life wondering what it was.

"So?" presses Jacob, trying to maintain his patient composure, but at the same time practically is on the edge of his seat. Mustering his bravery, Kurt mouths the words he wondered if he would regret later.

"I want to go."

----------

The drive towards Haroldtown is long and dreadful, and with Jacobs dainty driving skills it seemed like they took more than 8 hours to get to their destination, but Jacob explained that he was trying to be a responsible driver because apparently he had crashed 4 out of 5 of the cars his parents had bought for him in the past. It definitely was not reassuring information for Kurt to hear especially since he was in the passenger seat throughout the drive.

It took no convincing at all to get his father to understand why he was doing what he was doing, almost as if Burt was prepared for it, then again maybe he had eavesdropped on the entire conversation like he did before. Burt wrapped him in a comforting hug, one that boost his courage, before Kurt left the house. It was good too, since Burt had his date tonight. Maybe it was better that Kurt was preoccupied with something.

After two pit stops at various diners and ten bathroom breaks because Jacob claims he has a weak bladder, the car finally pulls into a small town with the sign Haroldtown, beaming with fluorescent floor lights, greets them. Night time has arrived, but the town area was still bright and bustling with frequent people. They were in the central area, assumes Kurt because this was where all the convenient stores were and where all the supermarkets and thrifts stores were at. There was a antique store that caught Kurts attention, but it had the sign For Sale plastered over the glass doors. He did not understand exactly why that felt a little familiar to him.

"The house isnt too far from here. Its a small town after all. Do you want to eat something first or?" ask Jacob as he meanders the roads like a scared little chicken.

"Jacob, Ive spent the past ten hours or so on the road for this. If you think I want to procrastinate any longer..well, youre right. But no, Im not hungry," says Kurt. This was it. They were here, where Blaines phone led them to but why were they here was the bigger question. As they drew closer to their real destination, Kurt could feel his stomach begin to churn and his chest begin to constrict. Why did he agree to this? It not seem like the stupidest idea ever. Shouldnt secrets die along with the deceased?

"I know youre nervous, so am I honestly, but we need the closure, right?" reminds Jacob. All this while, Kurt was so self-centric thinking about himself and how he needed this closure to truly move on with his life he forgot that Jacob needed it to. He looked up to Blaine, practically worshiped the ground he walked on. Jacob was just as attached to Blaine as Kurt was, and in all honesty, he was glad he was here with Jacob to face whatever this is.

The car makes a left turn and soon they found themselves in a suburban neighborhood where a string of houses stood on either side of the road that seemed to go on for an eternity. Staring out the window, Kurt could spot a few children playing out in the lawn still. It was already 11PM, dont kids have bedtimes anymore? But those children was a testament to how safe and family friendly this neighborhood was. Kurt could feel it, the ambiance as they cruised down the road. This was a warm lane to live in. The car suddenly slows down to a halt and there, just about two houses in front, stood the cabin house with its black bricked chimney.

It stood out from the other modern homes with glass panels and spiral staircases and swimming pools on their rooftops. This house was humble as compared to the lavish, affluent houses. It did not have swimming pools, not even a well build chimney. The porch was lit with bright lights, and even the door looked as if it was made out of witness wood- the kind of wood that has been around for centuries and have seen history basically. Suddenly, Kurt was confused as to why they were here. What was this house? A safe house? Some sort of secret hideout? A headquaters? Why did Blaine bring him here? Even Jacob was silent, and Kurt suspects that even the boy wasnt exactly sure what they were suppose to do next.

"What do you think is inside there?" timid ask Jacob, but in the silence of the car his voice was loud.

"I hope its not something that would destroy me," says Kurt.

"We should go and knock. We drove all this way to find out after all, right?" reminds Jacob, because Kurt needed all the reminder he could get because in this moment, all he could think about was why the hell was he here.

Emerging out of the car, the air is thick and icy here. Kurt secretly praised himself for choosing a sweater, and praised himself even more for bringing along an extra coat just in case. Jacob and Kurt walk side by side, both equally nervous as they approach the cabin house The lawn was slightly brown, and there were no sprinklers but there was a faucet and a hose located at the corner of the house. It really was an ancient humble abode. Taking a step up the front porch, Kurt could feel his heart fall into his stomach. He was absolutely not ready for this- at all. This did not feel like a closure, this felt like opening a whole other Pandora Box and he was not braced for that.

"Listen, whatever is in there. Good or bad, Blaine wanted you to know, okay?" says Jacob, attempting to put Kurts worrying heart at ease, but it did not work. Not at all.

Standing in front of the wooden door, Kurt could feel his lungs failing him. What was he doing here? It took him a month to move on from Blaine and his lies, and now he was back in this quick sand? This was a mistake, he could feel it in his guts and when Jacob just abruptly raises his his and taps on the door, it dawns on Kurt that he wasnt ready. He turns around and is halfway down the walk-up when the door creaks open and a womans voices a question.

"Can I help you?" ask the woman. Kurt did not know what was it- the genuine curiosity in her voice, or the fact that the voice reminded him of his mother. He turns and stares up to the porch where a woman who looks to be in her late fifties, adorned in a robe, dark brunette hair messily tied up in a bun, square spectacles sitting on her nose bridge stands in the threshold. Her bronze eyes riddled with question.

"Hello, maam. My name is Jacob, that is my friend Kurt," politely responds Jacob. Kurt gradually begins to walk back up to the front porch because this was his least expectation.

"Okay, what are you doing on my front porch at this hour?" ask the woman. You could tell she was alarmed, but trying to maintain he polite composure.

"Well, were actually friends of-"

"We got lost," spits Kurt before he could stop himself. He did not understand what it was, but the woman looked clueless. What scheme of Blaine could she possibly be a part of because she looked like your average aging woman who spends more time planting flowers than..whatever circus act Blaine was a part of. Jacob is confused, raising his eyebrow at Kurt. "And we were wondering if maybe you had a map we could borrow because cell services apparently dont work up here."

"Rozy, who is it?" groans the deep tone of a map, and shortly he appears behind the woman. He is a rather short male, bald in the center of his head but the remaining of his head hangs on the sides. She is pudgy, wearing a white tank top and trousers. He eyes them suspicious with bright golden eyes.

"These two young gentlemen apparently lost their way and was wondering if we had a map," tells the woman.

"A map? Dont you twenty first century kids have phones that can point you directions?" questions the man. Kurt could tell he was a man who did not respond well to strangers, especially ones who knocked on his door close to midnight. Come to think of it, who would respond well?

"Yes, but our data services dont work up here and were trying to get to Lima, Ohio. A map would really help us if you had one," says Jacob. He had apparently received the message to lie about this, and thank goodness for that.

"You cant call somebody to pick you up-"

"Oh enough with your questions, Rupert," wavers the woman. "They look like innocent young boys who genuinely have lost their way. You know how winding the roads are up here. Come in, dears. Ill fix you two a warm cup of tea and dig up a map I think I have in the basement."

The woman practically pulls them into her house, which was a relief considering he swore the man, Rupert, was going to kill them with his burning suspicious glare. He was an older man, pushing sixty with a short stick maybe. It wasnt surprisingly of his defensive walls of course, he was only being suspicous. There was something too that strike some familiarity in Kurts brain, but he could not pinpoint what or who exactly. Kurt and Jacob stumble into the house and relish at how warm it was as compared to the cold outside. The woman orders them to take a seat on the couch while she busies herself in the kitchen. The man takes a seat across from the, doing nothing else but glaring.

"Youre not one of those sodomy boys, are you?" questions the man, in which Kurt chokes.

"Oh, not at all. I mean, hes gay but Im straight as an arrow," responds Jacob, in which Kurt gives him the most irritable stare he could with his eyes.

The house follows no specific decor whatsoever. It has pieces of every single thing, in fact maybe a little too much decorations. Pictures of old singers and bands hung up, record albums, decorations of fishing. There were antiques placed everywhere- on the walls, center pieces for tables, on racks, even the carpet looked ancient. The house was very native American and it smelled out baked pastries too. The bigger question however was- why did Blaine send him here? What was there to know here, Kurt did not understand. Could they have possibly gotten the wrong address? Or maybe he was right after all- that this house was merely a surveillance. Maybe like Kurt, Blaine wa suppose to infiltrate them too, deceive to get a job done. Maybe these two husband and wife had secrets far from anybodys wildest imaginations.

"Here you go," sings the woman as she returns to the living room, a plate of freshly baked chocolate chip cookies in one hand and a tray of a tea set in the other. "So, why are you two going to Lima, Ohio..if Im not prying."

Jacob practically attacks the cookies first and goes into a dreamy state as he takes a bite of the first one. "This is delicious by the way. My mother never did allow me to have cookies because she said sweet things made your stupid," says Jacob, mouth full of chocolate.

"I read somewhere that chocolate actually improves your mathematical skills. Thank you," smiles the woman.

"Were going to visit friends, actually," says Kurt, lying again but how was this suppose to play this. Maybe these two were waiting for them to make the first move, to say that they knew Blaine or something. "So, you two live here alone?"

The man eyes him suspiciously yet again but even Kurt couldnt blame him. The way he so abruptly blurted that question out did sound suspicious, but what else was he suppose to do? He wanted to know why he was here and why Blaine sent him here but these two werent giving away anything. Maybe they were just as good liars as Blaine was.

"Yes, we do. Weve been living here for almost thirty years," tells the woman, and it showed especially with the hoarding and how ancient the house was, but Kurt refrain from saying that of course. He needed to find a way to sound nonchalant but to the point, maybe that was what these two were waiting for. "How old are you two?"

"Were both high school graduates. Starting college in a couple of months," tells Kurt. This was beginning to feel impossible, and with Jacob constantly stuffing his face with food he has apparently missed out on through his childhood, Kurt was practically on his own. "My name is Kurt Hummel, and this is Jacob Ben Israel."

"Ben Israel? What are you, part of Al Qaeda or something?" shoots the man.

"No, of course not. Just, my parents thought they would be more creative," shrugs Jacob as he takes a sip of his tea.

"Thats unfortunate," says the man, in which the woman slaps his shoulder. He was a hostile man, but of course for good reason. He had a woman to protect and it was just him so it was quite comprehensible while he felt like he needed to be the one who was more observant. The question in Kurts mind is still ringing; why did Blaine send him here?

"My name is Rozy Criss, and this is my husband Rupert," tells the woman.

"Its a lovely home you have here. Very- welcoming. I like antique furniture too. Sometimes I get so lost in a flea market. Its insane the number of beautiful crafted ancient pieces you can get there," says Kurt because maybe some light conversation could ease the energy.

"You should hear this one ramble one about antiques. He practically lives for it. He actually owned an antique store in the town area of Haroldtown but he sold it off. Were actually-- planning on moving," says the woman, but Kurt did not understand why she was telling him this. She did, however, seemed like a warm woman. Antique shop..why did that sound familiar? "Its going to be hard saying goodbye to this place after thirty years, but I think were ready."

The man clutches his wifes hand as if giving her support that she needed, as if it was a secret reminder, telling her it was okay and that they were going to be okay. It was a short, almost unnoticeable moment but Kurt paid attention to that little exchange, but he didnt know why either. Maybe these two reminded him of his father and his late mother, their own little dynamic that only they both understood.

"I should find the map. It should be done there. Give me a minute or two, sweeties," says the woman. She stands and though it was vague, Kurt could have sworn he saw a tear in the womans eyes before she makes her way to the door underneath the staircase and descends down to what he presumes is the basement. Now they were left with the man with the suspicious eyes. For some reason, those features seemed familiar to Kurt- bright eyes and dark hair but for the life of him, he couldnt pin point why that was familiar.

"Ill be back. Dont touch anything," rudely says the man before he stands and leaves for the other room where it is essentially a little office. Kurt take this opportunity to smack Jacob so hard at the back of his head he spits out all of the cookies he has in his mouth.

"Why the hell are you doing," growls Kurt through gritted teeth. "Were here to find out why Blaine brought me here, not so you can compensate for your misguided childhood."

"Im sorry, but have you had those yet? There like warm, moist but baked cakes with chocolate coating its like honestly the best damn thing Ive ever tasted," says Jacob, but he soon pulls himself together when he notices how serious Kurt was. "Right, Im sorry. I dont know? I didnt expect this at all. I thought-- okay, I dont know what I thought but it was definitely not to walk into the house of two nice old people."

"Maybe we should ask them? They clearly dont look like theyre going to tell us anything. Maybe we should just ask, I mean theres no point in beating around the bush here," says Kurt convincing himself it was a good idea but what if they didnt know Blaine at all. How was he suppose to react to that?

Rupert walks into the room in the instant, carrying a box of what seems to be circular metallic objects, a bottle of cleaning oil and a piece of cloth. He has on glasses now. He takes to the chair and begins a routine of cleaning what appears to be coins. This would be Kurts chance. If he asked the man now, at least he would be too distracted to actually pay attention to him. Glancing over to a very unhelpful Jacob who is, yet another stuffing his face with cookies and tea, Kurt inhales.

"Do you know who is Blaine Anderson?" says Kurt, shuddering at the name himself because its the first time he has said Blaines whole name since he died. The man look up through his canopy of lashes and frowns.

"What?" says the man.

"Blaine Anderson. Know him? Secret agent?" says Kurt, in which Jacobs jaw falls before he quickly picks it up but Kurt was refusing to wait to be told whatever it was he needed to be told for being here. He wanted to know what it was, and he wanted to know now. The man takes off his glasses, sets them on the table together with his posessions and stares right back at Kurt, eyes giving away nothing.

"What the hell are you talking about," says the man, enunciating every word and in that instant, Blaine knew from the vacant eyes and the complete confusion and genuine cluelessness, the man did not know who Blaine was. There was no need for further questions because he could tell the man had found him to be way off the crazy scale.

"Oh- Im sorry," quickly says Kurt. He had presented himself like the weirdest stranger in the whole wide world and now the man had his suspicious eyes trained on him even more intently.

"Excuse my friend. Hes off his meds," adds Jacob, questioningly staring at Kurt, but he didnt understand what question it was. Kurt was even more confused now. If these people did not know who Blaine was, then why the hell did Blaine bring him here in the first place? What was this? A safe house? He didnt understand and he could feel it start to get to him, the cry of frustration. He had made a big mistake coming here.

"May I use your restroom," says Kurt, getting to his feet because he could feel himself starting to break. The man has his bright eyes on him again, suspicious but soon he gave in and picked up his coins for cleaning.

"Down the hallway, take a right," says the man as Kurt quickly brisk through the directions, walking down the hall but as he is about to make that right turn, he halts in his place when a picture grabs his attention. The picture was framed, sitting on top of a dresser. A single photo, but something drew Kurt to it. He walks forward and almost crumbles to the ground at the person that is sitting in the photograph.

It was a young boy, dark unruly curly hair, bright smile one that could have uplifted a sorrowful valley, and eyes as bright as the sun. He must have been 10, maybe 12 but Kurt knew who it was. Added a few years of aging, that was Blaine in his childhood. There was no denying it because those eyes were unmistakable, Blaines trademark. The bigger question was..why was Blaines childhood picture sitting on a dresser, in a home in Haroldtown? Taking a shaky step forward, Kurt lifts the frame with trembling fingers as he stared into the eyes of the innocent child.

"That was our son," says a voice that sneaks up on Kurt, but after finding Blaines picture sitting on a counter top of a random house, nothing could have surprised him anymore..but this did. Kurt says nothing, holding the picture in his fingers and staring. Just staring. "He died in a canoe accident in a summer camp when he was 16. His name was Darren. Darren Criss."

"Im..so sorry," says Kurt, because that was what he could manage to say. Turning around, picture still in hand, Kurt faces the woman and is about to tell the woman everything..about Blaine, but the woman continues.

"It was a long time ago, but not one day has gone by where I havent thought about him," says the woman. "He was the sweetest boy ever. Unlike the kids these days, he liked to spend time with me..his boring old mother. He was a very athletic boy, he used to play football with his father out in the lawn. Sweetest memory of mine. Im sorry, I dont know why Im telling you this-"

"No, its okay. I dont mind hearing more," says Kurt, because he was starting to understand why Blaine had sent him here.

"Its just- Rupert and I try not to talk about him a lot because its just a sad reminder for him, but I like talking about him," says the woman, her voice quavering and her eyes threatening tears to form. "I fear that if I stop talking about him, I might forget that I ever had a son. Thats the truth about losing somebody you love the most, that as much as it is difficult to relish in your memories of somebody youve loss, the truth is its less painful to talk about them then to miss them in silence."

You could see how broken the woman was, torn between not speaking about his late son because its too difficult for her husband to cope, but she had a different take on it. It must have been so conflicting for the woman, but maybe the woman was right. That was the unspoken truth about people who have loss someone they love. In retrospect, Kurt thought it would have been difficult to talk about his mother, but when he did talk about her to his father, relishing in the memories, it made him smile. The truth was missing someone in silence was more painful.

"Thats why Im very reluctant to leave this house- because it just holds all the memories I have of him, and I fear it might all slip away from me when I leave," says the woman as a tear streams down her cheek. "But I know its time. I know its about time for a new beginning because truthfully, the people we love will never truly leave us, and neither will we leave them. Rupert sold his antique shop, so now theres nothing holding us back." The woman composes herself, wiping away the little tears streaming down a cheeks. "Are you okay, dear?"

Now Kurt saw it, now he understood why Blaine had sent him here. The antique shop, the womans pastries. Kurt saw it now clearer than ever why he was sent here. Blaine was not lying. His basis was to deceive, but through the course of his assignment something must have changed him and Kurt had a suspicion it was because the boy..truly did love him. How did he conclude to this? Because of the story Blaine told him about his parents, how he said his father loved anqitues and how his mother loved to bake. This was the boys way of telling Kurt that he was not lying, and that if he allowed Kurt into a sacred part of his life, a part that was the truth, then it was a testament that the boy never lied about his feelings. He did love Kurt, and this-- this was the boys give for Kurts freedom, for Kurt to start afresh and for Kurt to find closure to this, but there was more.

If Kurt was given his closure, Blaines parents deserved the same. He was not going to tell the woman that his son did not actually die at 16 because Kurt believed that Blaine had a good reason for doing what he did. It went back to the boys sacrifice, his bravery to come to that warehouse alone to save Kurt. The boy was a saviour, driven to protect, and he left this life, his parents as much as it was heavy and difficult for him to do, he did this to protect his parents. He did it out of love, and Kurt believed, that they deserved the same closure Kurt was given.

"You deserve to move forward. I didnt know your son, but I am a sixteen year old boy, and I know that I want nothing more than for my parents to be happy. I know, for a fact, that that would be what your son would have wanted too," says Kurt, because Blaines parents deserved the same closure. A tear courses down the womans cheek as she enfolded Kurt into a motherly hug.

Leaving the house shortly after, Kurt knew this was not a mistake, that Blaine really did have a message for him, and the message was that he was being truthful with his feelings for Kurt. The CIA had their truth about Blaine because he was sent here and he did had an assignment to accomplish, but Blaines truth was that he was in love. He was in love with Kurt and he knew this for one simple reason; the boy showed the most intimate part of him to Kurt- his parents. That was all Kurt needed to know, to justify that Blaine Anderson did love him.

"So, did you find your closure?" ask Jacob as they walk back to the car.

Searching inside of him, Kurt knew now that there was no lose end. Now he knew the boy was not lying, and though he wished the boy was here, it put him at peace to know that the boy left the Earth with a heart full of love for just one person and that was him- Kurt. This was the closure he needed. A closure to the fact that everything was indeed..the truth.

"I did," confidently says Kurt. This was his truth- the boy really was the wish upon a star that took so long to come true, and now..he could truly, without no tether or what-ifs holding him back, that he could leave for his future.

But like Blaines mother said- the ones that we love never truly leave us, and we will never truly leave them either.