The wind whips around them, blowing Kurt’s hair in front of his face and blinding him for a moment. It doesn’t affect Blaine - he stands, unmoving, staring out at the city below

“Blaine?” He knows that he’s speaking, but no sound comes out, no matter how he tries. This is his balcony, he realizes, but huge, and it’s like they’re suspended in midair, far higher above New York City than the third-story apartment he lives in. Blaine shoots a glance back at him. He’s dressed in that awful pale green hospital gown and nothing else.

He looks away from Kurt and steps up onto the railing, balancing on his bare feet. Kurt gasps and tries to lurch forward, but he’s stuck, trapped.

“Help me, Kurt,” Blaine says, wobbling on the thin railing but not falling. “Save me.”

“How?” Again, no sound. “Blaine!”

“Why won’t you help me?” He doesn’t wait for a reply, watching Kurt with dark, sad eyes, before he closes them and raises his bandaged arms, like he’s about to fly -

Kurt wakes up with a strangled gasp; heart pounding like it wants to leap out of his chest. He knows immediately where he is - in his bedroom, with Blaine safe across the hall and Amelia on the other side of the wall - and knows that it was only a dream, but god, it was so vivid. He can still feel the stiffness in his bones from being unable to move.

He shoves the too-hot, tangled blankets off his chest and sits up, looking at the clock. 4:30 AM. Great. He falls back onto the bed with a soft thump. He’s covered in a thin layer of sweat from head to toe, the blankets twisted around his legs and his heart just won’t stop pounding.

When he tries to close his eyes, he’s right back on the balcony again, and his eyes shoot open, throat suddenly dry.

“Just a dream,” he mutters, voice shaking, and it almost shocks him when the sound manages to leave his lips. It’s not uncommon to have nightmares, not often but on a vaguely regular basis. Amelia has them too, sometimes, though he doesn’t know what she could have seen to have the dreams that keep her up at night. He doesn’t know about Blaine, they don’t talk about much, other than Kurt encouraging him to eat and take care of himself only to be ignored, but something keeps Blaine awake until the wee hours. Still, despite his knowledge that none of it was real, he can’t shake off the unease pooled heavily in his gut.

He curls up into himself, not daring to close his eyes again. Stares into the darkness of his bedroom, lit only by dim moonlight, and tries to get through the night without thinking too much about anything at all.

--

“I can’t believe I heard about this from Finn. Who heard about it from Rachel.”

Why Rachel is talking to Finn about his personal life, Kurt doesn’t know - he hadn’t even known they were on speaking terms again. They haven’t been together in years, except for a few hookups that no one likes to talk about for fear of spawning yet more drama, but their friendship has ended up as messy and complex as their relationship was, and Kurt doesn’t even want to try following it. Kurt sighs heavily, for what feels like the hundredth time since he started filling Burt in on the entire mess that his life has become, and glances over at Blaine, who sits on the floor with Amelia playing some game - something to do with monster trucks and My Little Pony, from what he sees. These are the only times he sees Blaine smile; really smile and not just putting on a face for Amelia - like he can immerse himself in her game of make-believe just as easily as she can. “I know, Dad. I’m sorry. Things have been a bit crazy. I haven’t had time to talk to anyone.”

“Are you okay?”

“Me? I’m fine.” Kurt cradles the phone between his ear and shoulder as he cuts up a clove of garlic while keeping Blaine and Amelia in the corner of his vision. He’s become a master of multitasking over the years, having a kid does that to a person. “Why?”

“Well, isn’t it hard having him around again?”

“Of course it’s hard, but I can handle it.”

“Never said you couldn’t.” Burt’s voice is gruff over the cell phone speaker. “Are you two, y’know…?” He trails off, but the unspoken question is obvious.

“Dad, no!” Kurt hisses. “Why does everyone assume that?”

“Hey, hey, no need to get defensive, I’m just wondering.”

“Nothing is going on with us and nothing ever will.” Blaine and Amelia have moved on to Barbies, now, and she gives him charge of the two Ken dolls who take the role of daddies whenever she plays house with them (it doesn’t occur to her to have a female doll as a parent.) Kurt lets his eyes linger on them for a moment before he turns away. “We’ve both… moved on.”

Burt makes a noncommittal grunt that says he isn’t convinced; Kurt never had been able to lie to him, if it is a lie. Kurt’s feelings toward Blaine are like a hopelessly tangled knot; he doesn’t know where to begin unraveling it, too frustrated to start.

It was hard on all of them, after the divorce - the Hummel-Hudsons were the only family Blaine had for a long time, and that was snatched away too. Burt and Carole had assured Kurt that he, of course, came first - but their sadness over losing Blaine nearly echoed Kurt’s own, despite Burt’s grudge. Finn, however, had taken up an immediate and unwavering hatred of Blaine, and won’t let anyone forget it. He had probably spun Rachel’s version of the story out to paint Blaine as the villain instead of the victim here, Kurt thinks, hence Burt’s worry. He rolls his eyes.

“If that boy lays a finger on you, you tell me,” Burt says. “I don’t care how messed up he is, he doesn’t get to mess with you.”

“I’m not a child, dad.”

“I know.”

“Nothing is going to happen. He’s not some raging, violent lunatic, okay, it happened one time. He’s just…” Kurt sighs. “He needs help. He needs someone to be there for him. You know that I know what that’s like.”

Kurt doesn’t know how much Burt knows about his brief period of depression in highschool, or how bad it had gotten. Burt still doesn’t know anything about the kiss that Dave Karofsky had stolen from him - an event that has lost its importance over the years, but still helped shape him, back in the days when he was still malleable, still being molded into who he was to become, learning to fit inside of his own skin. No one but Blaine and Kurt and Dave know just how instrumental Blaine was in saving Kurt all those years ago. Blaine has shaped him too, in his own way.

Even if it’s years late, Kurt has to do something to repay that debt. Sometimes it feels like it’s too late.

“You just remember to take care of yourself, too,” Burt says.

“I will, Dad.”

“Now lemme talk to that kid of yours.”

Kurt calls Amelia over and passes the phone to her, and she abandons Blaine and runs off with it, chattering away to her grandfather. With two hands free, Kurt returns to the vegetables he’s chopping, making quicker work of the garlic now. He hums to himself - more to remove the heavy topic of the conversation from his mind than to carry a tune - but stops abruptly when he hears a voice behind him.

“Need help?”

Kurt startles and turns around to see Blaine, standing behind him. “You scared me.”

“Sorry.” Blaine shrugs. He gestures toward the small pile of vegetables on the counter. “Need a hand? Kurt glances back at the food and the extra knife laying out, and hesitates. When he looks back at Blaine the other man’s expression hardens. “I’m not going to cut myself in front of you with your kitchen knives,” he snaps. “I’m not stupid.”

“I didn’t mean that.”

“Yeah, you did.”

“I’m sorry, I just - you make me…nervous.” Kurt swallows. “I never know what to expect from you anymore.” Blaine doesn’t reply, but the look in his eyes softens enough that Kurt can relax. “Um… you can chop up those carrots, if you want.”

Blaine takes the knife, a small wooden cutting board that had been a wedding present (Kurt can’t remember who from, now) and the two carrots. �He sits at the island counter and starts chopping in silence, with no indication as to why he wanted to help - he’s never offered it before now. Kurt lets the silence go on, broken only by the sound of knives on wood before he can’t stand it anymore and clears his throat. “How was your day?” He asks just to stop the quiet, wincing at how awkward it sounds; making dinner together and asking that, like they’re playing house.

Blaine looks up from his work and stares at Kurt for a moment. “I don’t know. Not… bad?” He asks cautiously, afraid that there’s a wrong answer. Not bad, of course, is far different from good. “Uneventful. I helped Amelia with her reading.”

Kurt nods his encouragement, hoping to keep Blaine talking. “That’s great. I wish I had more time to help her with homework, I’m so busy lately, but her teacher says she’s doing well.” Blaine nods, returns to the carrots and doesn’t reply. Kurt wonders if he’s forgotten how to carry a conversation. “Does this mean you’ll actually eat some of this food tonight?” He half-jokes. Blaine rarely has an appetite, except for picking at leftovers at four in the morning when he can’t sleep. Kurt can’t force him into eating or spoon-feed him the way he has to resort to with Amelia when she’s particularly stubborn, but the sharp angles of Blaine’s hipbones are all too visible through his thin pajamas. His skinniness worries Kurt, and Kurt has taken to adding more fattening foods to their diet just in the hopes that Blaine will gain a little more weight when he does eat.

“Dunno,” Blaine shrugs. His stomach growls loudly, betraying him, and Kurt can’t hide a quiet laugh. The very edges of Blaine’s mouth quirk in a sheepish smile, and it takes the edge off, makes the silence that follows Blaine’s murmured “yeah, okay” easier to bear.

It’s surprisingly natural, sitting here cooking together in silence - something they’ve done countless times but not, of course, in years. Maybe it should be weird, but Kurt allows himself to relax. Sometimes he needs the illusion of normality.

“Kurt?” Blaine speaks up, the name soft on his tongue.

Kurt glances back. Blaine has a small pile of chopped up carrots next to him, and when Kurt looks at him, he quickly averts his eyes toward them instead, trying to act as though he wasn’t watching. “Hmm?”

“Do you think people can change?”

Kurt raises his eyebrows. “Yes,” he says, without hesitation. “I’ve seen it happen.”

Blaine flushes, and fiddles with the knife in his hand in an absent way that makes Kurt want to snatch it from his hand like he’s a child, though he isn’t doing anything that dangerous. “But, like…” He stops, already frustrated. Blaine has always been so put together and eloquent, it’s odd to see him at a loss for words so often. “Never mind, it’s stupid.”

“Tell me,” Kurt urges. Blaine nibbles at his bottom lip.

“Do you think that - like, once someone has changed, they could change back? To the way they were before?” It all comes out in a breathless, mumbled rush that makes it hard to follow.

“I don’t know, Blaine.” Kurt frowns, bewildered by the question.� “I guess anything is possible?”

Blaine seems to ponder that for a while, brow furrowed. “I don’t even feel like me anymore,” he says, barely loud enough for Kurt to hear. “I used to like myself, sometimes. But now - I just don’t recognize me.”

He’s at a loss for words. Because this is the first time Blaine has opened up to him, even a little, in years, maybe even since before the divorce. And it’s not something Kurt can fix, though he feels like he should. It’s something that no one can fix but Blaine, and he looks so lost.

It does get Kurt thinking, though, and he wonders if Blaine might be right. He misses the Blaine that he first met, Blaine the hopeless hipster that wore too many bowties and dress shoes with no socks, who communicated through song, who looked at life through innocent eyes despite everything he had been put through in his young life, the Blaine that still features in his dreams. He wants that Blaine back so badly it makes him ache.

Amelia runs in, holding Kurt’s phone out to him. “Grandpa says I love you! When is supper ready?”

“Soon,” Kurt says distractedly, though they’ve all but abandoned the vegetables. She takes this as a good enough answer and runs off to play again.

When Kurt turns back to Blaine, his vulnerable expression has hardened, his shoulders hunched. “Forget it, it’s stupid,” he repeats, starting to stand up.

“Wait -“ Kurt’s hand shoots across the countertop, grasping Blaine’s wrist to keep him there. He’s a little surprised when Blaine doesn’t flinch away. Blaine looks at the hand wrapped around his wrist, and then up at Kurt’s face, expression unreadable. “First, I’m not going to think that anything you have to say is stupid, so don’t shut yourself down like that, okay?” It’s incredible that Blaine is talking to him at all, no way is he going to call Blaine stupid. “Second, I’m pretty sure everyone has felt like that.” Blaine raises an eyebrow in response, it makes Kurt want to smile but he doesn’t. “You’re in a bad place, emotionally, and you know that you should feel better but you don’t, so of course you don’t feel like yourself. I think that’s probably normal.”

“You sound like Naomi,” Blaine mutters, making no move to pull his arm away from Kurt. Kurt slowly uncurls his fingers, face heating up in a slight blush as he draws back.

“And third… I don’t know if someone can change back to who they were, and…” It pains him to say it, but he goes on. “Maybe they shouldn’t be able to. Because that’s sort of the point, right? We change and grow and adapt, and that’s good, because it means that this is going to change too.” He’s grateful that what he’s saying makes a vague sort of sense, because he’s making it up as he goes. “It means that, even though it will take a while, you’re going to get past this and become the person you want to be again.”

Blaine shuts his eyes tight, breathing in deep. “It doesn’t feel like it,” he says quietly, voice breaking.

“I know. But it will.” Kurt insists. Blaine locks his eyes on the countertop, and a soft not-quite-laugh falls from his lips.

“How much of that did you bullshit?”

Kurt can’t help but laugh too, sharp and sudden and unexpected. “Um, about ninety-nine percent. But it was pretty good, right?”

“Pretty good,” Blaine repeats. He has good days and bad days (or bad days and slightly better days) and Kurt is starting to be able to tell the difference between them. This is a good day; he’s talking and making an effort not to be cruel, and it’s such a relief to know that they can have days like this. Chances are that tomorrow he will lock himself in his room and refuse to come out, and the cycle will start all over again, but the small steps, the little changes, are important.

Blaine falls silent again but it’s okay, this time - they’ve said what they need to say for now. He continues to help chop vegetables for dinner, the silence between them almost companionable. Kurt doesn’t expect it to last, but for now he revels in the peace.