"We bought you an entire wardrobe last month; why is that the only thing you ever wear?" Kurt pulled his own shirt over his head as he regarded Blaine with disapproval.

"It's a white t-shirt." Blaine looked down at it then back to Kurt with confusion. "What's wrong with it?"

"Which part of entirely new wardrobe did you miss?" Kurt rolled onto his stomach and regarded Blaine's basement. "I just don't understand why you insist on never trying anything new."

"I love trying new things. Isn't that what we were just doing?" Blaine leaned over and kissed Kurt before questing around the basement for his shorts.

"Maybe you could try some new things with more clothing." Kurt peered over the back of the couch where Blaine was still on the hunt for his lost pants.

Blaine raised an eyebrow, "Sounds kinky."

"Doubtful," Kurt spied Blaine's shorts on the steps, "And you're cold in the pants hunt."

Blaine straightened up and wandered toward the display case of trophies, he looked questioningly at Kurt, "Warmer?"

"Colder." Kurt shook his head.

Blaine wandered from place to place- the pool table, the storage room, and finally back toward where Kurt was reclined on the couch. A rumble of thunder could be heard from outside, "Getting warmer."

"Warmer than the pool table or warmer than the bathroom?" Blaine glanced up toward the ceiling when another crack of thunder sounded.

"Warmer in general," Kurt shrugged, growing tired of the game.

Blaine took another couple steps toward him, "Now?"

"Shuffling five inches has made you warmer." Kurt rolled his eyes.

Blaine grinned and crossed the space between them. He stretched out on top of Kurt, hitching a finger in one of his belt loops. "Warmer?"

"Steaming." Kurt smirked, pressing his mouth to Blaine's neck.

Tucker barked somewhere upstairs. His nails clicking on the wooden floor as he scampered across the kitchen.

"Thunder makes him nervous," Blaine murmured when Kurt paused in his kisses to listen.

But Tucker kept barking long after the rumble of thunder had subsided. Blaine sat up, tilting his head to listen.

Kurt pulled himself up too, smoothing the hair on the back of his head, "Is someone here?"

"Dunno; I'll check." Blaine pulled himself up off the couch and walked toward the stairs. He looked over his shoulder to grin at Kurt when he spied his jeans.

"Hotter." Kurt shrugged and smiled.

Blaine pulled his feet through them, still hopping to get them all the way on as he made his way up the steps, shouting for Tucker to shut up.

Kurt listened, but the only sound came from the dull pound of rain and hail outside and the soft murmur of the air conditioning flowing through the vents.

Tucker pounded down the stairs, stopping at the landing to turn and wag his tale at whoever was following him.

"Who was it?" Kurt called, inspecting his cuticles with disinterest. He could hear soft voices approaching from the top of the steps. A moment later, Blaine appeared with one arm tucked around Nadia's shoulders.

"Oh, hey, N," Kurt glanced up and frowned. Nadia was pale, her hair damp from the outdoors, and her make up half-gone, "What's going on?"

Blaine guided Nadia over to the couch and coaxed her into sitting down beside Kurt, "I'll get you a glass of water."

Nadia tucked her feet up under her and crossed her arms around her middle. She didn't smile, "Hey, K."

"What's wrong; you look like you've been crying," Kurt pulled a blanket from the back of the couch and tucked it around her shoulders. She leaned into his shoulder and shook her head.

"Bad day." She mumbled.

Blaine reappeared, kneeling in front of her and offering her the promised glass.

She took a long drink from it before handing it back to him. He sat it on the side table, but said nothing. He and Nadia stared at one another in silence for so long, Kurt—despite being used to the silent conversations after weeks of watching them occur from time to time- started to feel uncomfortable.

"Do you two need a minute?" Kurt finally broke the silence, his voice sounding too loud.

Nadia shook her head slowly, but her eyes were still on Blaine.

"You're all right?" Blaine finally said.

"I'll be fine," Nadia lifted her head from Kurt's shoulder and kissed him on the cheek, "Sorry about this."

"Don't be. I'm not even really sure what this is." Kurt glanced between the other two.

"Bullshit, that's what it is." Nadia grumbled, running a hand through her wet hair in a lame attempt to get the tangles out.

"Bullshit." Blaine agreed, still sitting cross-legged in front of the couch.

"Horse shit." Nadia retorted.

"Chicken shit." Blaine said grimly.

The two looked at each other and smiled, speaking at the same time, "Just shit."

Kurt shook his head. If he were to write down every instance he didn't understand Blaine and Nadia, it would be a novel.

"Hand me my bag, would you, B?" Nadia motioned a hand toward her oversized gold Coach by the steps.

Blaine delivered it to her and she started rifling through its contents, "Your parents coming home anytime soon?"

"There's only ever one answer to that," Blaine got to his feet and went over to the bar to dig through drawers, "Of course not."

"Ugh, you are so lucky," Nadia looked up from her quest to glance at Kurt, "Shit, I didn't interrupt anything did I?"

"No, you're timing was impeccable," Kurt smiled, glancing down into her bag to see what she might be searching for before looking across the room to where Blaine was opening cupboards, "Did I miss the memo about a scavenger hunt?"

"Nope, we're good." Blaine stood on tiptoe to pull something from the top of the fridge.

"Golden." Nadia agreed pulling something from her bag. She kneeled on the floor in front of the coffee table, hunched over her find.

Kurt smelled something vaguely familiar, and when he leaned forward to scrutinize Nadia's project, the scent became very familiar. "Is that…Is that marijuana?"

Nadia bobbed her head up and down, "Pot, weed, grass, Mary J, whatever you prefer. I bought it in Lima last time I came to visit you from some creep who used to work at McKinley."

"Sandy Ryerson? You bought marijuana from Sandy Ryerson?" Kurt stared at her incredulously.

"Mhm, Puck told me about him," Nadia was scrutinizing her work with intensity, "Hey, is he still seeing that Lauren chick?"

"I don't know what's more disturbing. The fact that you've morphed into a stoner in front of my eyes or the fact that you're interested in Noah Puckerman," Kurt looked up to Blaine who was standing on the other side of the table, watching Nadia work, "Please say something about all of this."

Blaine smiled and shrugged, "Puck's an okay guy."

"Hopeless." Kurt grumbled.

Blaine ignored him, his eyes focused on Nadia's trembling fingers that couldn't quite coordinate rolling the paper. He knelt down and swatted her hands away.

"Thanks," Nadia tucked her shaking hands into her lap before looking over her shoulder at Kurt, "And to the previous comment, smoking the occasional bowl does not equate to someone being a stoner."

Kurt narrowed his eyes at Blaine who was rolling the joint with easy precision, "I take it you've done this before then."

Blaine glanced up briefly, shrugging with one shoulder.

"Are you saying you haven't?" Nadia scrutinized Kurt's face.

"Of course not." Kurt snapped.

"Oh, K, this is gonna be so good for you." Nadia laughed for the first time since entering the house.

"I am not smoking that." Kurt stated flatly.

"Sure you are. Trust me, it's going to be wonderful. When have I ever given you bad advice?"

Blaine and Kurt exchanged a look.

Nadia looked between them and then giggled. "Oh, that… "

Kurt scowled at her, "I will not have a second 'oh, that' experience. I had a limp for a week."

"One time incident and it was your own fault for not having a better sense of balance," Nadia opened and closed her hands in front of her like a child awaiting a Christmas gift toward Blaine, "Seriously, K, it will mellow you out. Tell him, B."

Blaine gave his handiwork to Nadia and fished out his find from the top of the fridge—a lighter. "Can't hurt to try, Kurt."

"Come on, K, I need this right now," Nadia glanced at Blaine, "Seriously."

"Seriously," Blaine agreed, nodding at her.

Kurt lowered himself slowly to the floor, "Fine. What do I do?"

Nadia took a long hit, closing her eyes for a moment before exhaling and starting in on a verbal tutorial for Kurt.

He choked on the smoke and refused to attempt a second hit before passing it off to Blaine, "Awful. Just awful."

Blaine sucked in the smoke and made a face at Nadia as he let it out, "He's right, you know, N, this stuff is shit. I'm out; I'm doing all right with a clear head these days anyway."

Nadia took the joint back from him without protest, and pinched Kurt's cheek, "Clear head, my ass. You're as love drunk as a guy can get off this little lemon drop."

Kurt made a face at her, "What, and you're not high purely off my presence?"

Nadia snorted and took another hit. "I think I've gotten drunk off so many pretty faces, baby, that my tolerance has hit a point that I just don't get off the way I used to."

"Aw, come on, N." Blaine rested his chin on his knees, "Maybe you just need to find some better guys."

"Preach," Nadia waved the blunt in the air toward Blaine.

"I'm serious, Nadia; it couldn't hurt to try out a nice guy," Blaine shrugged and smiled briefly at Kurt.

Nadia leaned on Kurt's shoulder. "Be mine, Valentine?"

"Not my nice guy." Blaine chuckled, plucking the remainder of the joint from between her fingers. He got to his feet and dropped it into the bar sink despite her pouting, "Sam's single, isn't he, Kurt? He's an all right guy."

"Yeah, not the brightest, but he's got his own sort of bottle-bleached hair charm."

Nadia shrugged and was silent for a moment.

"I can give him a call and put in a good word, N." Kurt teased when the girl beside him remained mute for a few minutes longer.

"A worthless slut," She announced, her voice slightly raspy with smoke, "He called me a worthless slut."

Kurt turned his head to look at Nadia in shock, "Sam?"

"You're not worthless, N." Blaine murmured from the other side of the table. He caught Kurt's eye and shook his head that no, Sam had not been the perpetrator.

Nadia giggled, "But I am a slut, huh?"

"More like a really terrible tease," Kurt suggested, relieved that someone from McKinley was not responsible for attacking his new friend.

"We can't help if people turn to stare, though, can we, K?" Nadia smiled vacantly at him.

"No, I suppose not," Kurt was confused, but he went along with her all the same. It was best to just let Nadia unravel until she decided to pull things back together.

"Bastard," Nadia mumbled, "His fault I'm this way anyway."

"Daddy issues," Blaine agreed.

"Your dad called you that?" Kurt frowned.

"Daddy calls me all sorts of things," Nadia said bitterly. She sat up straighter and looked toward Blaine, shaking her fist and lowering her voice to a man's octave. "Stupid bitch."

Blaine sat up higher too and pointed accusingly at her, "Pathetic excuse for a son."

"Dumb cunt," Nadia shot back.

"Egocentric, self-absorbed brat."

"That's redundant." Nadia pointed out in her own voice, before sighing.

"I let a lot of the shit you two get into just go over my head, but this is too much." Kurt looked between the two in alarm. His stomach hurt.

"It's like I said, K, pretty little girls with daddy issues," Nadia smiled sadly at Blaine, "How is the old man these days, Honey Bee?"

"He's fine, " Blaine shrugged, "Not around much."

Nadia sighed, "That's good… well… better."

"Better," Blaine agreed, "Other than today, have things been…"

"He's out of work again right now; it's shitty. Whatever, he'll get another job and clean up for a month or two." Nadia shrugged.

Kurt felt like he was in the middle of something he had no right to be a part of. The thought of his own father- the man who had given him the extra money to make the drive to New Albany that morning so he could visit his boyfriend—the boyfriend who apparently had issues with his own father Kurt hadn't even known existed. He was claustrophobic despite the large space; he felt like he couldn't breathe.

It was as if Blaine had read his mind. He rubbed the back of his neck briefly and sighed. "Sorry, Kurt, this is a lot to be dumping on you, me and my dad aren't all that bad, we-"

"—Why do you do that, B?" Nadia cut him off, frowning.

"Do what?"

Nadia motioned a hand at Kurt. "Shut him out like that. Yeah, it's a lot, but he deserves to know what goes on with you, doesn't he?"

"It's not like that, Nadia." Blaine looked from her to his confused boyfriend. "It's not like it was when were kids. My dad and I, we don't see eye to eye, but he doesn't say the shit he used to say to me; things are a lot better between us. I don't want you to get the wrong impression, Kurt."

"No, Blaine, you just freak at the possibility that something might be outside your control," Nadia seemed suddenly sobered in her irritation, "So what, Kurt sees a little divot in the shiny, new Blaine. Would that be so bad?"

"God dammit, Nadia, you're making this so much more complicated-"

"No, B, you are making this more complicated. Kurt's not stupid; he knows shit goes on in your life like anyone else's. It's not hard to let people in from time to time, especially when they love you as much as he does. Watch, I'll show you."

Nadia turned her attention back to Kurt. "Ready?"

Kurt was bewildered. Things were happening too quickly, "Um, yes?"

"My daddy," Nadia flipped her hair over her shoulder, "Loves scotch. More than his job, more than his wife, and more than me. He loves scotch so much that it makes him hate everything else."

"Nadia," Blaine sighed, looking tired.

Nadia ignored him; she picked up her water glass from the table, "Sometimes, he sits down in his chair with his drink and he gets to thinking. I think he and scotch talk to each other.

"Scotch, here' s the thing; all of this," Nadia gave her cup a confiding look as she waved a hand around the room, "It's shit. My house, my job, my wife, my kid. Especially the kid. I am going to let that little girl know exactly how I feel."

Nadia turned her attention to Blaine who was frowning up at her, she glowered at him, "You think I don't know what you do, you stupid tramp? Just like your mother, that's what you are. Useless bitch. Damn trash. Steal the money right out of my pocket to go out on the town with a bunch of punk ass white trash. Worthless whore."

"You're not worthless, N," Blaine shook his head, rising to his feet, "Misguided, mistreated, misunderstood, but never worthless."

"I've needed you, B," Nadia sighed, forgetting her anger. She let Blaine fold her into a hug.

Kurt wanted to run from that room. Rewind from that moment. He wanted away from it now. Instead, he sat in his place on the floor, trying to let it sink in.

"Jesus, Kurt, you look ready to puke," Nadia untangled herself from Blaine to sit down in front of the other boy, "Too heavy?"

"Very, very heavy." Kurt managed to mumble.

"I'm sorry to drop it all on you," Nadia reached out to hold one of his hands between both of hers, "But I meant what I said. I trust you enough to let you in."

Kurt glanced up at Blaine who had remained standing, his hands in his pockets. He looked back to Nadia, "I'm… I'm glad you told me."

"And you're not going anywhere just because I'm a fucked up kid, are you?" Nadia didn't look at Blaine, but he stared at the back of her head, clearly having heard her message to him.

"I thought you were a pretty girl with daddy issues," Kurt smiled momentarily then squeezed her hand. "Of course I'm not going anywhere."

Kurt didn't turn his face away when she kissed him full on the mouth. She smiled and sat back on her heels, "Blaine says your dad's a good guy; your brother seems like a sweetie, so I bet your dad's lovely."

"He is… more than good; he's amazing," Kurt suddenly felt near tears thinking about his good fortune in such a wonderful father, he didn't correct the confusion over Finn being his stepsibling, "I think he'd like you…if you wore some more clothes."

Nadia looked down at her spandex shorts and camisole and shrugged, "I'll take it into consideration. I want to dye my hair a new color before I change anything else though. What do you think about black?"

"I think it would look trashy and it would clash with your feathers," Kurt replied.

They settled into comfortable conversation until the grandfather clock chimed loudly that it was ten. Kurt had promised his father he would be home no later than midnight.

"I'm supposed to be in Columbus in an hour and Ally's house fifteen minutes ago. Oops," Nadia dug her phone out of her purse and grimaced, "She is so effing pissed. Do not tell her I was here, B; she'll kill me for blowing her off."

"Right, I'll make sure to not let that slip next time we're out for one of our biweekly coffee dates." Blaine rolled his eyes.

Nadia laughed, apparently delighted, "Oh my God, I totally forgot for a second we didn't still go to school together. Just like old times, Honey Bee."

Blaine offered a hand to Kurt to pull him to his feet. He squeezed his hand briefly, "Almost."

"Can you drive like this?" Kurt studied Nadia's slightly red eyes.

"Duh," She started up the steps, pulling her keys from her bag on only the second try. When they reached the door, she turned around and wrapped her arms around Blaine tightly.

"You sure you're all right for the night?" Blaine tilted her chin up so their eyes could meet, "My parents are at that gala thing, they wouldn't notice if you just decided to crash here for the night."

Nadia smiled and wrinkled her nose, "Tempting, but Ally will seriously flip if I ditch out. Besides, I've got to go use daddy's money to meet some punk ass white trash at the clubs, too. Wouldn't want to disappoint."

Blaine grimaced, "Nadia-"

"Oh, relax, B, I'm joking." Nadia smacked a hand across his chest, "I made it two whole years without you breathing down my neck to be careful, and we're both big kids now."

"Suit yourself," Blaine smiled unwillingly, "Be careful though, huh?"

"Yes, sir," Nadia kissed him and turned to Kurt, "Thanks for taking this whole mess like a good little soldier, K."

"Of course," Kurt turned his face so she could kiss his cheek, "Call me if you need anything—I'll be on the road for at least the next two hours."

"Will do…. Thanks again for being so cool about my mess. I knew you could handle it though," She glanced pointedly at Blaine before running out into the rain. Blaine and Kurt stood on the front porch until her headlights disappeared down the street.

"I suppose you have to be shoving off too," Blaine smiled sadly from where he stood, his elbows propped on the railing, "This rain's probably gonna make you a little late for curfew."

"My dad will understand," Kurt shrugged. He folded his hands on the rail beside Blaine and tried to form his thoughts, "Before I go…"

Blaine glanced toward him, a look on his face that said he already knew what Kurt was going to say, "Kurt, we've been through this."

"She's right you know," Kurt replied softly, not ready to give into his frustrations just yet.

"Nadia wears every feeling on her sleeve, Kurt. Her problems aren't a secret to anyone, it just so happens I- well, we- get to see the immediate aftermath a bit more than other people."

"I'm not asking you to tell the whole world anything. Just me," Kurt touched a hand to Blaine's.

Blaine studied his face for a moment before sighing. "Kurt, there is a reason I didn't spill all Nadia's stuff out on the floor right after we ran into her at the coffee shop, there is a reason the two of us just get each other, and it's the same reason I don't always tell you things…I just…. I've got that part of my life with all the crap and the mess and the dark. And then I've got you. I don't want to mix those things, Kurt."

"Nadia mixed things and I don't see any nasty side effects." Kurt retorted.

"Nadia is your friend of all of three or four weeks, Kurt. I've known her a long time… Except for when she dances, her entire life is one big mess of a bad drug cocktail. I'm glad to have her back, and I'm glad you've grown to love her so much, but I can't live my life the same way she does."

"You have to let things get a little messy from time to time, Blaine. I'm sick of you treating me like I won't be able to handle it—I get it, okay? I don't have you and Nadia's big nasty past and I've done a lot of crying over paper cuts compared to the crap you keep behind closed doors, and I feel like an ass about it-"

Blaine was shaking his head, "Kurt, I like that Karofsky is the worst that's happened to you, I like that the biggest obstacle in you and your dad's relationship is a little awkwardness, I like that your friends are so perfectly ordinary. It's what I like about you Kurt."

"Gee thanks, I've always wanted to be admired for the complete mundaneness of my life," Kurt pulled his keys from his pocket, but paused on the steps, "I'm not a pretty doll that you get to just put up on a shelf away from all the other toys, Blaine. We're a couple- as in two halves of a whole thing. I love you, but eventually you're going to have to take me down off the shelf or this is never going to work. We can't just stare at each other on opposite sides of a glass wall."

Blaine remained where he was, regarding Kurt with so much weariness that Kurt was almost tempted to take it back.

Instead he kissed the other boy on the cheek briefly, "I'll call you when I get home."

"Drive safe," Blaine mumbled.

The rain had abated some, but Kurt darted for his car nonetheless. When he turned the key in the ignition, he looked up at Blaine in the glow of his headlights. Blaine smiled half-heartedly and raised a hand in goodbye.

"He's not going to tell me anything." Kurt murmured to himself, waving back as he pulled out of the driveway. He left the neighborhood, but didn't immediately turn left to go to the on ramp toward home. Instead he turned right, circling around the backside of the park. He followed the winding road between the trees until he found the parking lot on the opposite side of the park from Blaine's house. He stopped and stared into the wet, black-green foliage.

He had never thought to curse the lack of misfortune in his life—he'd always been convinced he's experienced plenty—but as he thought about Nadia and Blaine, he despised himself. Blaine wouldn't let him in because he was too weak, too fragile.

He pounded his hands on the edge of the steering wheel and let out a scream of frustration before dropping his forehead down onto the top of the wheel. He listened in silence to the CD playing on his stereo, the hum of the engine, and the drips that fell from the leaves above onto the roof of his car. Finally he lifted his head and moved to pull the car into reverse, but suddenly realized his car wasn't the only one in the little lot. A red pick up was parked two spots away, its headlights were off, but light came from inside the cab. Kurt recognized the passengers and felt a thrill go down his spine.

Max took a drink from a can, regarding Kurt coolly from the backseat window. Eric smiled and waved from the passenger's seat. Kurt wondered absently if they'd been there the whole time or if they'd pulled up during his silent reverie.

Eric rolled down his window and leaned on the ledge beckoning for Kurt to lower his.

I should just go. Kurt's hand was still on the gearshift. He shoved it back into park and lowered his window.

"Well, Kurt, fancy running into you out here at this time of night. Where's Blaine?" Eric squinted toward the passenger seat.

"Home." Kurt replied. Which is where I should be headed right now.

"Shame. The dumb kid never even called me after our little rendezvous earlier this summer. Breaks my hear,." Eric climbed out of the car but didn't approach Kurt; he leaned against the hood of the pick up. The others soon followed, ducklings lined up against the truck beside him.

Kurt shrugged. His conscience was screaming at him. Go home. Go home now.

"No reason you couldn't stick around for a few beers though, Kurt," Chris called, holding up a grey box.

"No, thank you," Kurt glanced over the others briefly, his fingers moving back toward the gearshift. He'd had enough for one night.

"You're as boring as your boyfriend, Kurt," Eric whined.

His hand froze; he stared out the window again at Eric, "What do you have against him?"

Eric's eyebrows went up, "What do you mean?"

"I mean, why are you so set on tormenting him?"

The other three looked toward their leader. Eric took a few steps forward, but stopped a few feet shy of Kurt's car. "Tormenting? We had a ball, Blaine and I, a real good time in our interactions."

Kurt stared hard at him; ignoring his amiable response, "Why him?"

"I don't know what to tell you, pal; maybe I've got a thing for skittish gay kids," Eric smirked, "But that's not true at all. Can I be honest with you?"

Kurt jerked his head down once and waited.

"It's that look he gets. You know the one—his 'pretty, pretty please just let me go' face. It could be a real challenge to get him to look at me that way over time, but we made it work out. God, that face just got me every time… I hope I get to see it again soon," Eric laughed contentedly to himself.

Kurt wasn't sure how it happened. One second he was seated in the safety of his car, then the next his body was colliding against Eric's, his fists flailing to land a hit anywhere. His ears rang with adrenaline and then with the impact of a blow to the side of his head.

He'd never been beaten up, he realized vacantly. He'd bruised his shoulders on locker banks, twisted an ankle climbing out of a dumpster a time or two, but no one had ever actually hit him. And now, as blows fell upon him from all directions, he wondered if it got less painful if you were used to it. When he hurt so much that he couldn't differentiate the pain in his chest from the pain in his feet, he was sure it had to be over, but it wasn't.

They kept hitting him until time was no longer something he was aware of other than a mild panic that the beating would never stop. He tried to grab onto any coherent thought.

Wet. It was wet and the rain was falling again, and he suddenly realized he was alone. When had that happened? Think, a voice ordered him from somewhere deep in his muddled cortex,you need to get a hold on something.

He tried to remember where he was, what he was doing there, but all his screaming neurons would grab onto over and over again was the fact that he hurt. He hurt more than he had ever hurt. He needed a distraction from that relentless torture. The smell of pavement when it rained, yes, he'd try for that. He tried to take in a deep breath through his nose, but his ribs screamed out in protest and all he could smell was the metallic tang of blood.

His eyes found the glow of his headlights and his car door that still hung open. His mind latched onto something. The park. He was at the park in New Albany. Blaine was in New Albany.

Call Blaine! The voice sounded even more muddled, but it screamed out to Kurt all the same. Yes, Blaine would know what to do; he'd fix this, but where was his phone? He gasped at the blindingness of the hurt when he tried to feel for the familiar shape in his pocket. Nothing. It was still in the car. He had to get to his car.

He worked with his bewildered brain to find the right circuitry to command his feet into action, a task that was proving terrifyingly difficult. He had to be satisfied with getting one foot to push him forward a few inches at a time, but then there was the problem of coordinating his arms to get out of the way and it all hurt so much. He panicked briefly. I'm going to die. I'm going to die here.

A dull wave of adrenaline afforded him enough energy to close the gap between he and the open door. He dropped his head back to the asphalt, panting with the white-hot agony of his broken body and loss of the final reserves of his energy. With a dull last pang of terror, he realized he didn't have enough left in him to make it the distance between himself and the front seat- it was too high; it was too much. He lifted a hand to touch the footstep but let it fall back down to the pavement again. He pushed himself onto his back and let the rain beat down on his face; it's tiny blows a sad, little echo of the one's he'd received earlier. He could hear music still coming from his car. He closed his eyes against the water and listened. Listened to the sound of the rain, the music, and his own beating heart. The rain abated, his car battery must have died or the CD ended after awhile because that too disappeared.

And then there was nothing.