Kurt's first reaction is panic. He wants to run to the bakery, find Rachel, shake her and force her to come home immediately after her shift. But the adrenaline rush that her note caused passes by the time he's dressed, and he sinks into the armchair to think.

In the end, he decides to call her instead. He presses #1 on his speed dial and waits. And waits. She doesn't pick up.

He decides to give it a few minutes and try again, but the text comes first.

Rachel: Don't. We clearly need time away from each other.

Kurt winces and replies.

Kurt: Can we talk before making rash decisions? I'm worried about you.

Clearly it's not the right thing to say, though, because he can almost hear the snap in her next message.

Rachel: I'm fine, stop babying me. I'm a grownup and I'm ready to be on my own.

You are so not ready, he wants to tell her, but he stops himself. There's no need to deepen the conflict between them any further. Instead, he types,

Kurt: Ok. If you're sure. Be safe, will you?

The reply comes ten minutes later, when he's beginning to suspect that's the end of their conversation.

Rachel: I'll call you.

Meaning, Don't call me until then, of course. How is he supposed to respect that when he doesn't know where she is, how she is, or if she's safe? He should go talk to her, convince her this is silly. But... maybe he can give her a few days first, let the anger fade somewhat.

His heart heavy, Kurt throws himself into work. The prospect of going home after his shift tonight is bleak, but he has nowhere else to go. Blaine has a study group until late and despite living in New York for over eight months now, Kurt still doesn't have any places that he can call his own. There's the apartment and the coffee shop, and that's about it.

What a waste in this vast and fascinating city. Maybe Rachel was onto something. Maybe he does need to go out and find his own friends and places, make new memories. Maybe being so focused on work and Blaine only is kind of sad.

Maybe he will do something about it.

But not today.

When Kurt comes home that night, Rachel's space is still bare, her clothes, cosmetics and trinkets gone, the bed neatly made. He takes one look at it and hastily pulls the curtains closed. He doesn't want to see it so empty every time he looks that way. It's going to be hard enough to live here alone, in the apartment that seems bigger than ever.

As he turns to go to the kitchen and drown his sorrows in a cup of tea, he catches a glimpse of something bright on the floor and bends to pick it up. It's Rachel's soft red headband with tiny white hearts. He made it for her over a year ago, before they came to New York, because she loved the fabric and she had so few pretty things in her life then. She's been using it ever since – mostly at home lately, to keep her hair out of her face. She must have dropped it while packing this morning, and Kurt spends an embarrassing amount of time standing there with the colorful cloth in his hands, paralyzed with sudden, overwhelming grief.

This is the end of an era. The irrevocable, ultimate end of their childhood. Everything that has bound them to their past is now gone, the last of it being their unique bond. Rachel said it herself last night.

We're not even family.

But they are. Maybe not by blood or law, but nearly ten years of sharing everything – their time, their space, thoughts and emotions and intimacy – brought them closer than most real siblings ever get. Since the day they moved into the Harbor house, they haven't spent one day apart from each other, and the hellish road they started on together only served to bring them closer when they struggled through each day, having only each other to lean on.

They are family. They will always be family, whether Rachel wants to acknowledge it or not.

His bed is supposed to be a relief – an early bedtime to try and escape into sleep if he can't find peace anywhere else. Tomorrow will be easier.

But sleep doesn't come.

Two hours later he's still staring at the passing headlights reflected on the ceiling, when his phone rings and he knows it's Blaine without looking. He doesn't really feel like talking, weighted down by the anguish and guilt that have spun him into a suffocating cocoon already. But he feels like lying alone in the darkness even less, so he picks up the phone.

"Hi."

"Kurt. Is everything all right? I haven't heard from you all day, you haven't even answered my texts... I got worried."

He sounds worried. Kurt takes a shaky breath. "Rachel's gone." It comes out helpless, broken, the first time he's said it aloud, and he hears a gasp on the other end.

"What do you mean, gone?"

"She moved out." He curls on his side, the phone stuck between his ear and the pillow. "We fought and she moved out."

"Where did she go?" Blaine still sounds worried, but his voice is also calm, which feels like a balm on Kurt's nerves, frayed after hours of spinning out of control.

"To move in with her boyfriend. Did you know she has a boyfriend?"

"Huh. No. But that's good," Blaine says. Before Kurt has time to protest, he adds, "I mean, if she decided to move out, it's good that she had somewhere to go, right?"

Kurt hums in what is not quite assent, and then Blaine asks carefully, "Why did you fight?"

"I–" What felt like valid, important reasons less than twenty four hours ago seem shaky now, and unworthy of such an argument. "I told her I disapproved of some of her choices. Both lifestyle and career-wise."

"Uh-oh. That couldn't have gone well." Kurt can hear the rustling of Blaine's sheets on the other side of the city, so far away. "Do you want to tell me about it?"

He does, it turns out. It spills out of him in a rapid wave as Blaine listens, humming softly in acknowledgement every now and then, but otherwise silent. Kurt tells him about Rachel's confession after the New Year, about her clubbing and partying and assumed hook-ups, about the auditions and her careless approach to nudity and sexuality. Maybe he shouldn't share her private affairs like that, but he needs to talk about it or he'll burst.

He feels spent when he's done talking, no longer certain if he wasn't wrong at all, or if he had a right to judge her like that.

"I can see why you confronted her." Blaine sounds thoughtful through the phone.

"You do?" It's a blessing, the validation. So he wasn't entirely unreasonable after all.

"Yeah." There's a pause, and then Blaine adds, "But I understand her side, too. All too well." He sounds quiet, subdued, and suddenly, Kurt understands.

"Have you ever–" He's not sure how to end that question, but Blaine knows what he means.

"I did," he murmurs, then clears his throat. "I tried it, partying and dating and... more, but it didn't work for me. I had an anchor to keep me from getting lost in the distractions. It's not as fun when your heart knows what it really wants. No hookups can fulfill that need."

A breath hitches in Kurt's throat. It's too much on top of all the other emotions of the day, and he can no longer keep the tears from spilling. Blaine realizes instantly.

"Shit, I'm sorry, I shouldn't have– I'm sorry, Kurt." It doesn't help though, now that the dam broke. Kurt can't catch a full breath through the tears to reply at all, and he can hear the distress in Blaine's voice. "Do you want me to come over? I can come over, right now. Just give me half an hour, maybe a bit more, I'll catch a cab and I'll be there."

"No. We can't," Kurt manages. "No sleepovers."

"I know we said that, but this is different. And I don't have to sleep with you. I'll sleep in Rachel's bed. Or on the torture couch." Kurt laughs wetly, but the tears keep falling, and Blaine sounds even more frantic. "Or I can not sleep at all, I'll just be there. Whatever you need." Kurt can hear louder rustling from his end again, more rushed now, accompanied by the banging of drawers. "I want to be there for you, Kurt. I'll just get dressed and I'm off to get a cab, okay?"

"No, don't," Kurt forces out against every instinct in his body, and the shuffling sounds from Blaine's room pause. "I'll be fine. It's late and you have classes in the morning–"

"I don't care, you're more important to me than classes. I'm serious, Kurt."

Oh, how easy it would be to say Yes, please, I need you, and soon find himself in Blaine's arms, the safest place on Earth for him. But that's the problem: Kurt knows he wouldn't be able to let go once he was there. They would sleep together again, and in the empty apartment, with the emotions running high, who knows what they might end up doing – what he may end up asking Blaine to do. It would only hurt more in the morning.

So instead, he says, "Thank you. You're the best friend I could ask for. But really, I'll be fine tonight. Can we meet tomorrow instead, go somewhere after my shift?"

Blaine sounds almost disappointed. "Of course, I'll pick you up. But are you sure–"

"Yes." Kurt sniffles and dries his eyes with the too long sleeve of his henley, moving to settle more comfortably on the dry part of his pillow. "Could you talk to me some more though?"

Blaine's voice has always been soothing to Kurt – no matter what he's talking about really. Just hearing the warm timbre of it calms him down like a promise of peace and safety. Kurt closes his eyes and just listens to the quiet monologue about Blaine's piano students and the new songs he's working on, and the movie he saw.

The next thing Kurt knows, he wakes up in the morning with the phone still pressed to his ear.

The plan to pay Rachel a surprise visit at the bakery goes by the wayside when she sends Kurt a message the next day, asking him to give her some space and not seek her out for now. It's not like he can refuse – she is an adult, after all – but he makes her promise she will text him every few days to let him know she's okay. Other than that, he can only let her go and hope she doesn't get hurt.

Trying not to worry and letting Rachel build her life apart from him goes against every protective instinct ingrained in Kurt at the Harbor.

During the next few weeks, Kurt becomes a guest in his own apartment. He still sleeps there, of course, and sews every morning until it's time to leave for work – it's the evenings that he can't stand. The silence and emptiness of the loft that was their first real home away from home is hard to endure. So he escapes and doesn't come back until he's exhausted enough to drop on the bed and fall into deep, dreamless sleep.

To pass the time, he sometimes takes on more hours at the coffee shop, even though he doesn't really need them – his sewing pays enough these days to balance out the loss of Rachel's paycheck. Besides, he spends less now that he's alone anyway. But it proves to be a good distraction, and sometimes, after closing, he goes out for drinks with his coworkers. After all this time, he's only really just now trying to get to know them. Each of them has a story, it turns out when Kurt opens up to listen. What's more surprising to him, they are all okay with him not talking much about himself, and open to accept him as he is.

Sometimes Kurt spends the evenings with Blaine. Neither of them feels like touring the city much anymore, both weary with winter and waiting for the spring. They usually just sit in Blaine's dorm room, now a solitary after his roommate just packed his things and quit college one day in January, and they watch movies on Blaine's laptop. After years of deprivation, Kurt finds that he gets so focused on what he's watching that even Blaine's presence a foot away doesn't distract him. So he lets Blaine pick from the mile-long list of movies Kurt "absolutely has to see", and then they sit side by side on his bed – sometimes sharing a blanket if it's chilly, or eating popcorn – and they watch in silence.

And then they talk. Not during the movies, but Kurt can see the way Blaine sometimes watches his face instead of the screen, waiting for reactions to some of his favorite moments. So he saves his thoughts and questions and opinions, and they talk afterwards – freely, passionately, agreeing and disagreeing, and agreeing to disagree, sometimes veering into more general topics the movies touched, often finding themselves so engaged in the conversation that it's Kurt's alarm that has to remind him it's after eleven and he needs to go.

A few times the sophomore girls from down the hall join them during these movie nights and the discussion gets even more interesting with their input. Plus, they can all appreciate male beauty, which leads to some fun teasing and a lot of laughter. Kurt definitely enjoys these evenings. More than once, Blaine suggests that he could stay the night, arguing that the other bed stands empty anyway, but Kurt never does. It would be too easy to shake the balance they've found, the easy friendship without struggle for more, and he can't risk it, not when he needs Blaine now more than ever.

After each evening like this, Kurt walks out of the dorms feeling alive, acutely aware how much he's missed having real, deep connections to people, and intelligent, engaging conversations about more than just everyday things. He feels mentally stimulated, shaken out of the stagnation of focusing only on survival for so long.

And if merely watching and discussing movies with Blaine and his friends can do so much, what would actual studying feel like? Suddenly, the half-forgotten yearning is back full force, and Kurt starts thinking of ways he could go about continuing his education. He wants to finish high school and go to college if he can – maybe study something connected to fashion – and he knows there's a hundred obstacles, from their presumed dead status to school records to money, but there has to be a way. And he's determined enough to find it. Maybe not right now, but hopefully by September he will have something figured out. He's doing fine, but he wants more from life than working at a coffee house and sewing on the side. He's capable of more, and he has to try.

March brings warm wind and the first signs of spring. Little by little, Kurt finds it easier to get used to the world where Rachel is no longer by his side. It still hurts, the way their separation came to be, but when she calls him after two weeks of silence and sporadic texts, her voice is bright and bubbly, and Kurt rests easier. She didn't get the role after all, he learns, and she's still auditioning, but it doesn't matter – life is wonderful, she is happy and no longer angry with him. They talk more regularly after that, calling each other every few days, and even though two more weeks pass and they don't manage to meet, Kurt at least knows she's safe and happy.

And then, in the third week of March, Elias – the Greek barista from Starbucks – asks Kurt out on a date.

"I think you should go out with him." Blaine is typing something on his laptop, his fingers flying across the keyboard and his eyes focused on the screen.

"But you said–" Kurt can't help how small it sounds, pitiful and hurt, and he can't even get himself to finish the thought, you loved me stuck in his tightened throat. Blaine finally looks at him.

"I know," he says, his eyebrows drawn and expression pained. "I know what I said. But I can't give you what you deserve, so it's only fair that I shouldn't stand in the way of your happiness with someone else."

I don't want someone else, I want you, is what Kurt wants to say, but he knows better. He can't have what he wants, and he should at least try to move on. And Elias is nice and funny, and he looks a little like Blaine – short, with curly black hair and kind brown eyes, and maybe if Kurt tries hard enough, he can feel something for him.

He hates himself for the thought.

No, he'll just go without expectations and have a good time, and he won't try to feel what's not there. Unless there is something there. Although he doubts that very much.

The mood is sour after that. They watch yet another superhero movie, but Kurt finds himself distracted and glancing at Blaine constantly, never once meeting his eyes in return. They are quiet when the movie ends. Blaine claims he has a headache, and Kurt pretends to believe him, but as he gets his bag to go home, he can't help but wonder what it will do to their friendship when they inevitably start dating other people.

Well, he's about to learn soon.

It's past eleven when Kurt gets to his building. The lamps on the upper part of the stairwell are busted again, so he lights up his phone screen to find his keys as he runs up the stairs, and it's only thanks to this little bit of illumination that he doesn't trip over the small figure huddled on the top step by his door.

Heart pounding, he raises the phone to see the surprise visitor – undoubtedly some homeless person looking for a place to spend the night. It's happened a few times before; the building doesn't have a doorman and it's easy enough to slip in.

Instead, he sees a familiar old backpack, dark hair in a single loose braid and big, tear-filled eyes of his sister.

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Chapter art: We're not even family

Chapter songs: My Immortal by Evanescence

Chasing Pavements by Adele

Things That Stop You Dreaming by Passenger

The next chapter will be posted on Thursday 17 October.