"Hmm?" Blaine directed his sleepy eyes and drunken smile toward the council table.

Wes regarded him for a moment with displeasure, and then shifted his attention to Kurt who was watching him with the same facial expression. "Brief ten minute recess, Warblers; you're dismissed. Warbler Blaine and Warbler Kurt. Stay."

The others filtered from the room, casting curious glances over their shoulders toward the remaining members.

Wes moved from the council table, a general member's rule book in hand, to stand before the remaining members. He regarded them both with irritation before shaking his head, his anger melting away and his formal presence with it. "If you two are so damn in love you can't sit through one Warblers' meeting, you could at least make good use of it and sing about it."

Kurt would have been embarrassed, but he was too caught up in Blaine's blissful voice, "Sure. What song?"

Abruptly, Wes raised the book in his hand and smacked Blaine across the back of the head, "Whatever one will get you back to participating in this group, sir."

Blaine's smile slipped as he looked up at Wes in alarm, a hand going up to rub the back of his head, "Unnecessary, Warbler Wes."

"On the contrary, I think it was quite necessary. Unless you would like another one to reprogram that head of yours, it would be in both of your best interests to focus for at least the next half hour. After that, do as you please," Wes looked from Blaine to Kurt, "Have I made myself clear?"

"Crystal." Kurt smiled serenely up at the older boy.

Wes nodded slowly; his sense of authority slowly bandaging any wounds it had felt from Kurt and Blaine's lovesick lack of attention. "Good."

When Wes turned toward the door to call the other Warblers back in, Blaine stole a quick kiss.

When practice (finally) ended, Kurt folded his arm around the crook of Blaine's elbow, floating out to the car along side him. Seventeen days. It had been exactly seventeen days since Blaine had confessed his full-blown love to Kurt in the darkness of Rachel's bedroom. Seventeen perfect days.

When they reached Kurt's car, Blaine leaned him into the closed door, nuzzling his nose against Kurt's in a silly Eskimo kiss, "Call me when you get home?"

"Of course." Kurt caught the back of Blaine's neck with one hand and pressed a kiss to his mouth before climbing into his car. He smiled dreamily as he backed from his parking space, Blaine watching him pull away with his hands folded neatly behind his back.

He, Kurt Hummel, was madly in love, and he didn't care who knew it. Rachel had even declared him overdramatic in his affections, but Kurt didn't mind. She just didn't understand what it was to have Blaine look at him with such sheer adoration. He had truly never been happier- going to sleep was a chore while waking up at five each day was greeted as an absolute treat. He could not get enough of Blaine's presence. Now that they had exchanged those precious words, it was as if a flip had been switched, showing them a whole new world of intimacy and desire. He loved Blaine so much it seemed to physically hurt at times. Oh, but the hurt was so wonderful. Kurt played with the radio until he found a song he liked, smiling to himself the entire way home. He pulled into the driveway and was surprised to see both Carol and his Father's cars parked in the garage.

He hung his coat in the hall closet and pulled off his shoes once inside. He was about to shout out a hello when he noted both Carol and Burt seated on the family room couch.

"Hey, bud, how was school?" His father smiled at him dully, an oily baseball cap still on his head from his day at the shop.

"Great. You're home early." Kurt unbuttoned his blazer and loosened his tie.

"We wanted to talk to you about something. Why don't you come sit down?" Burt motioned toward the empty armchair.

Kurt glanced between his father and Carol as he settled down into the chair. "Is something wrong?"

Burt and Carol exchanged a look. Carol spoke first, tentative, "Well, not exactly sweetie, but-"

Burt settled a hand on her knee before starting over. "I guess you could say there is, kiddo, and I don't think you're gonna like what we have to say."

Kurt's hands tensed on his knees; he frowned. "What is it?"

Burt sighed, he pulled his hat off and rubbed his head once, "We can't afford the Dalton tuition anymore, Kurt. I know you love it there, and you've made friends, and you've got your buddy, Blaine…but we've stretched it as thin as we can, and…we just can't do it anymore. I'm so sorry, Kurt."

Kurt stared vacantly at his father. His ears rang so loudly he could barely hear his own voice. "When…when do I have to go back to McKinley?"

Burt replaced his hat and his eyes met Kurt's sadly. "Next week."

It was a Wednesday. Two days. Two days at Dalton with the smell of varnish and new books. Two days with the Warblers, intricately planning a Capella arrangements. Two days with Blaine meeting him between every class, his fingers laced between his own. Two days. Kurt felt dizzy.

"We've already been in to talk with Principal Figgins. If anyone so much as looks at you funny, they're out the door." Burt hunched forward onto his knees. "I really am sorry, Kurt. If there's anyway I can come up with the money again, I swear-"

Kurt momentarily shook himself from his downward spiral. His fear for his father's health over road any terrors he had for his own well being, and in that moment, Burt Hummel looked so stressed that Kurt was sure he might have another heart attack right there in the family room. Kurt shook his head slowly, the action felt clumsy, "It'll be fine, Dad. The glee club will help watch out for me."

"I know it's going to be hard to leave Dalton, especially with Blaine still there. We know how important he is to you, Kurt." Carol rested a hand on his father's.

"I-" Kurt took in a breath to steady himself, "I can still see him all the time. He doesn't live that far away."

"Kurt, we're-" his dad started in again.

Kurt rose and placed a reassuring hand on his father's shoulder. "Please, dad, don't apologize again. It was so kind of you and Carol to send me to Dalton in the first place. We all knew it could only be temporary, I just have to face reality now."

Burt nodded, pressing a hand over his son's. "You need anything, buddy?"

"No, I'm just going to go down to my room for awhile, if you don't mind." Kurt slipped his hand out from under his father's and made for the basement door as deliberately as he could. He turned the lock into place and half-stumbled down the stairs, collapsing with his face in his pillows the moment he got near enough to his bed. A muffled sob shook his body, and, for a while, he let the tears fall freely. He should know better than to let his guard down, especially when he was so perfectly happy. What had he expected? That the money for Dalton would just keep appearing so he could remain tucked away in his own little corner of Heaven for the rest of time? He was disgusted with himself. He knew better than to trust perfection; something always screwed things up. Once he felt he'd used up most of his tears, he lay still, his eyes dully cast toward the opposite wall. He tried to make his mind blank, free of any thought related to the coming Monday. He watched shadows shift from the small window well outside, informing him of the passing hours. Finn must have been warned to avoid their shared room for a while, because no one ever so much as tried the door handle. Finally, when the sun had set low enough that the entire room was filled with a soft, hazy darkness, Kurt heard a key turn in the lock upstairs.

"Kurt, I'm sorry to intrude." He heard Carol's voice from the top of the steps.

"It's fine, Carol." He called back.

As her footsteps came nearer, Kurt managed to pull himself into a sitting position on his bed. When she emerged at the base of the steps, a plate of food in hand, he even tried to smile for her.

"I wasn't sure you'd be up to joining us upstairs, so I brought you down some dinner, sweetie." She put the plate down on his nightstand.

"Thanks, Carol, that was sweet of you." Kurt tried again to offer her a smile.

"Please do come up or call for one of us if you need anything." Carol cupped a soft palm to his cheek briefly. "I know this must be terrible to have put on you so abruptly."

Kurt bit back any remaining tears that might threaten to break from his control. "I'll get past it, I just need some time."

"We love you, Kurt. You know that, right?" Carol searched his eyes.

"Of course I do." Kurt touched his fingers to her hand briefly. "Thank you again for dinner."

She smiled, smoothed his bangs, and went back up the steps without another word.

Kurt listened for the click of the closed door before settling back down in his bed, his eyes cast listlessly in the direction of the plate. The smell of its untouched contents twisted his stomach in knots until he was forced to rouse himself from bed and dump the entire thing in the bathroom garbage. He crawled back into his bed, pulling the covers over his head until he was surrounded with humid, almost claustrophobic heat. Despite the close, muggy temperature, Kurt was soothed by the comfort of being surrounded so closely on all sides, safe from anything that might decide to sneak up on him.

"What are you doing, Kurt?" Blaine's familiar voice asked as he appeared at Kurt's side.

"I can't find my locker. It's gone." Kurt looked helplessly at Blaine.

"You can use mine." Blaine grabbed his hand and pulled him down a long hallway until they reached the junior locker banks. He dialed in the combination, stepped aside, and motioned for Kurt to open it.

Kurt smiled at Blaine, relieved to have a place for his things. He stepped forward and tried the door. It stuck fast.

"You have to pull hard." Blaine advised, folding his hands behind his back.

Kurt gave the door a hard tug and felt it shift ever so slightly. He gave it another forceful jerk. The door burst open, and a wave of red burst forth...

He woke sweating; the comforter still over his head. He pealed all the blankets off, relieved to be free of their weight and stifling warmth. He breathed in the fresh oxygen around him for a moment before noting the silence. He glanced at the clock on the nightstand and realized he still had a few minutes before his alarm would go off. He considered settling back into bed, but then roused himself instead. Those extra three minutes before class would be three minutes to add to the forty-eight hours he had left at Dalton. He skipped his usual detour to the kitchen that morning, not ready to force a smile for his parents and reassure them that he understood why he was being placed back in his own personal hell.

When he got in his car, he fiddled with the radio for a few minutes before turning it off. For once, music offered him no solace. He pulled into a spot near the front of the lot, and stared up at the building before him for a moment. He was glad he had forgone breakfast—his stomach twisted itself in a knot, nauseous with the loss he already felt for this beautiful place. He slipped his bag over his shoulder and locked his car, but he didn't bother to take off his sunglasses as he strode toward the front doors. He managed a smile and a friendly hello for the few classmates he passed on the way to his locker. His hands didn't tremble as he placed his books in his locker; he was just numb. He stared vacantly at the pictures taped to the inside of the door, the stack of books neatly aligned in the space in front of him, his thoughts drifted momentarily back to his previous night's dream.

A warm arm enveloped his waist from behind and a familiar cologne and coffee scent soon followed, stirring him from his thoughts. Blaine's chin rested on his shoulder and his free hand came around to hold a cup in front of Kurt's face. "Your usual."

Kurt took the offered paper cup in both hands; he put it down on the shelf of his locker. His eyes focused on it, not ready to face his boyfriend just yet, "You're wonderful."

"You didn't call last night." Blaine pouted, the scruff of his cheek still brushing Kurt's neck.

"Sorry." Kurt swallowed once.

"Hey," Blaine took a step back and turned Kurt lightly with one hand on his shoulder, so he had no choice but to face him. His voice took on its soothing mentor quality, "Kurt, what's wrong?"

Kurt met Blaine's eyes, he had barely registered the concern in them before his own vision was swimming with tears he had no hope of keeping from spilling over. "My parents- th-they can't afford Dalton anymore. I go back next week."

Before a sob could even fully break free, Blaine had him pulled into a tight hug against his chest. Kurt's body shuddered under his hands; his tears soaking the collar of his uniform and all he could do was murmur into his lover's hair, over and over like a mantra, "I'm so sorry, Kurt. I'm so sorry."

Kurt didn't attempt to form words; he had none. He felt only the hurt of knowing that Blaine's safe embrace would not be able to comfort him once he was back in the halls of McKinley. He listened to the sound of Blaine's calm voice, stopping in his soothing only to dismiss anyone who stopped to question what was wrong. Finally, he swallowed down his remaining tears and straightened up, Blaine's hands slipping to rest on his elbows.

Blaine waited in silence as Kurt forcefully rubbed the tears from his face, but still he held on gently, as though Kurt might suddenly fall.

Kurt's eyes drifted to Blaine's uniform. His collar was wet and wrinkled. "Oh God, look what I've gone and done to your shirt."

"Forget about that." Blaine didn't bother glancing down to inspect the damage. His eyes remained on Kurt. "Look at me, Kurt."

Kurt's red-rimmed eyes drifted back up to Blaine's reluctantly. Sure, he had been known to cry at the drop of a hat, but somehow facing Blaine now, he was embarrassed. Embarrassed for his weakness. Blaine's eyes, though sad, remained clear. "I'm sorry for dropping this on you like this-"

Blaine shook his head, "You have nothing to apologize for. Everything's going to be okay. All right?"

Kurt's eyes drifted away again. "How can you even begin to say that?"

"Hey, it will be." Blaine ran his hands up and down Kurt's arms. "Your friends at McKinley will watch out for you, and I'm not going anywhere; you can do this, Kurt. I know you can."

Kurt met Blaine's eyes again. "And what if I can't?"

Blaine's hands stopped on his shoulders, he smiled. "You can."

"Could you?" Kurt searched Blaine's face. "Could you go back to your old school?"

It was Blaine's turn to look away, his smile slipping. "I don't know."

Kurt felt oddly disappointed. Blaine- his source of confidence, his source of a yearning to be better- had faltered. Kurt felt somehow responsible for that little fault line in the man he loved. He drooped back into Blaine's chest, not wanting to see the look of hesitance in his eyes anymore.

Blaine let out a long breath, his arms wrapped back around Kurt, his chin resting in his hair. "Two days."

"Two days." Kurt echoed.

Kurt savored every second of every hour with increasing heartache for each minute that passed. The Warblers had been painfully kind to him; even David had dropped his usual business persona to offer comforting words. His classmates offered condolences and expressed their sadness at his upcoming departure with hands clapped down on his shoulder, hugs from some of his better friends, and even some tears shining over some of the boys' eyes. And there was Blaine. He waited for Kurt outside every class, no matter how far away his own schedule took him, his fingers constantly finding Kurt's, soft kisses placed in his hair whenever the mood struck him- which was frequently. Despite his reassurances that nothing would change between them, he acted like Kurt was a soldier departing for war in some distant, battle torn country while he remained on the safe, familiar shores of home. When Warbler's practice was called to a close on Friday afternoon, the drop of Wes's gavel felt like the declaration of a prison sentence to Kurt. He didn't move from the couch. Each Warbler offered a sad goodbye, a squeeze to his knee, an invitation to visit at any time. They lined up like guests at a funeral home, offering condolences until only he and Blaine were left.

Kurt looked around the room, his throat tight. Blaine's hand on his knee, and his eyes focused on Kurt's profile, ready to gather him into his arms the moment he might need it.

"I can't believe it's over." Kurt slowly rose to his feet, still gazing around the room- the whole situation feeling surreal.

Blaine stood too, his eyes never leaving Kurt's face, but, for once, he wasn't sure what words to offer. He remained silent.

"I'm scared." Kurt whispered, his eyes settled on the window.

Blaine stepped in front of the other boy, cupping Kurt's face between both his hands so their eyes were forced to meet. "Do you trust me, Kurt?"

"Of course I do." Kurt blinked, fighting back tears.

Blaine stared hard into his lover's eyes. "I'll make sure you're safe. I promise you."

Kurt stared back. Sweet Blaine, forever the mentor, protector, and savior. "I- I believe you."

Blaine pulled him into a rough hug, his arms tight around him. He would make this okay.