Kurt let out a sigh, his hands dropping from the steering wheel. "As ready as I'll ever be."

"Cool." Finn smiled and clambered out of the car.

Kurt remained where he was, staring out at the groups of students filtering in to McKinley. He spied Mr. Schuster's car- it's exhaust pipe resting on the asphalt, only have holding onto the car above it. He felt his phone vibrate in his pocket.

"You can do this. I love you."

The words made Kurt's heart ache but also gave him the momentum he needed to push himself out of the car and toward the doors. Finn had been idling a few yards ahead, and once Kurt reached his side, the two walked toward the building. The hallways felt strange- familiar yet foreign. The harsh fluorescents and dirtied linoleum were a far cry from the polished marble and warm mahogany of Dalton. And there was no Blaine. Kurt swallowed down the hurt of that last thought.

"You gotta admit the chance to break those fabulous clothes back out everyday makes being back here almost worth it." Mercedes arm was suddenly looped through his own.

Kurt glanced down at his Armani sweater and offered Mercedes a weak smile. "Almost."

"And yo' best girl back on your arm." Mercedes offered with another bright smile.

"And there' s that." Kurt agreed with a nod, he reached his locker and began placing his things down in it, he hadn't brought anything to adorn the inside of the door. He couldn't bring himself to nest back into the place just yet.

"Not the same as having your boy here though." Mercedes spoke softly from beside him.

Kurt's hands paused in their activity. "No. It's not."

Mercedes offered a quick squeeze to his arm. "Just hang in there. You'll get used to it again."

Kurt slammed the door shut, but before he could respond, he felt his body catapult toward the wall, his shoulder striking the metal with the same sound his locker door had just made as he closed it. He looked up in alarm to see Karofsky already a few yards down the hall. Their eyes met.

"Welcome back, Faggot!" He smiled and turned the corner.

Kurt watched the hall for a moment before looking back at Mercedes. "Yeah, feels just like old times already."

The familiarity only intensified. The classes, whose material was watery at best and taught with little enthusiasm, nearly put Kurt to sleep. An occasional shove into a near by locker bank. His sweater was not marred by a single slushie, much to his surprise (he had brought the usual change of clothes to store safely in his locker until they were needed), but he was none the less depressed as he dragged himself into the choir room at three o' clock. The Glee members welcomed him back warmly (except Brittany who was suspicious of him acting as a spy and then confused by where he had been for the past six months). Mr. Schu had been so inspired by his return that he wrote the words "COMING HOME' in bold letters on the white board and informed them all of their weekly assignment. Kurt didn't feel at home- he felt torn from his home. But, as New Direction's practice progressed, he did feel a certain easing in the ache of his chest. He watched Mike perform a dance routine, Puck sing with increasing affection to Lauren, Brittany snuggled in Artie's lap while Rachel battled Mr. Schuster for control of the group. He had missed this, no matter how much he had loved the Warblers, and now he would get to go to Nationals. When he and Finn had finally pulled into their driveway, he was able to answer his parent's bombardment of questions truthfully.

No, Karofsky hadn't threatened to kill him.

No, he was not having trouble getting back into classes, they put him to sleep.

Yes, they were right; things had been okay.

With his father satisfied with Kurt's answers and Carol having felt she'd fulfilled her maternal duties by shoving cookies into both boys' hands before they left the kitchen, Kurt was finally dismissed from their interrogation so he could call Blaine.

He picked up on the second ring. "How was it?"

"Hello to you too." Kurt replied, dropping the cookie in the garbage as he settled down onto his bed. "It was fine."

"Did Karofsky bother you?"

"Calm down, you sound like my dad." Kurt rolled his eyes, rising back to his feet to go poke through his closet. "No, we're actually best friends now. He's openly gay and accepting of people from all walks of life. He's working on achieving world peace."

"Glad to hear he's gotten a little more open-minded." The tension in Blaine's voice momentarily eased. "Really though, did he leave you alone?"

"Other than a few hardy shoves into the lockers and warm welcome back, he kept to himself." Kurt pulled a navy v-necked t-shirt from his closet to look over. "How was your day?"

"Awful lonely without you." Blaine sounded sincere.

"The feeling's mutual." Kurt sighed, replacing the shirt. They both fell silent for a moment.

"New Directions working on anything good for Nationals?" Blaine's voice sounded cheery again. "I'm sure they're relieved to have you back. Definitely ups their chances."

The conversation drifted on for over an hour until Kurt decided it was best to let Blaine busy himself with his homework- a workload that would take much longer than any of the fill-in-the-blank sheets he'd been given at McKinley. "I have a lot of homework to do, Blaine. I really should let you go."

Blaine sighed. "If you must… don't work too hard, okay?"

"Trust me, you don't have to worry about that." Kurt rolled his eyes. "I'll call you tomorrow. I love you."

"I love you too. And Kurt?"

"Hmm?" Kurt started prodding through his shoeboxes.

"I'm so proud of you." Blaine's voice was soft. "You're much braver than I can ever hope to be."

"Stop that." Kurt laughed and felt a blush of pleasure at Blaine's admiration. "You're the inspiration to any scraps of confidence I have in doing this, so give yourself the pat on the back."

"Strength comes from within, Kurt. You don't give yourself enough credit."

"Look in the mirror when you say that, Blaine. I'm not the only one shrugging off my own credibility." Kurt picked up the photo booth strip of pictures he had moved from his Dalton locker to his vanity. "And finish your history paper. It's due on Friday and I won't be in the library tomorrow to force you to write it."

It was another hour before Blaine's mother calling him down a third time for dinner forced them to finally truly end their conversation. With the line dead, Kurt felt lonely again. He taped the picture to his mirror and stared up at it. Reality sucked.

The rest of the week dragged by, he and Blaine's phone conversations were cut shorter on Wednesday and Thursday- Blaine had a chemistry midterm to study for and, despite Kurt's warnings, he put off his History paper until Thursday evening. When Friday afternoon came, Kurt received the final bell with a sense of relief. One week down. A million more to go. He walked toward the choir room, not minding being a little too early for practice.

"Hey, Homo!" A voice called.

Kurt turned instinctively to see the speaker. He caught the flash of a letterman jacket before a wave of icy red stung his eyes, burned cold trails down his neck. To add insult to injury, while still blinded by red dye #7 leaking down over his eyelashes, he was slammed into a locker bank, tripping over his own feet. He sat on the floor for a few minutes, listening to the departing laughter and footsteps and blinking until his vision cleared. He should have known he wouldn't make it an entire week without a single slushie thrown in his face. As he walked toward his locker to retrieve his spare outfit, he wondered absently how the offender had managed to keep the thing cold for so long…maybe they'd snuck off campus during sixth period to go and purchase it… he went into the boys bathroom to cleanse himself- it being a Friday afternoon, he wasn't too concerned with any jocks lingering after classes and sneak attacking him. He washed his face, cleaned his hair, changed his shirt and squeezed in some eye drops to ease the pain. He'd forgotten how much those things stung. By the time he deemed himself presentable, he was ten minutes late for Glee. He rushed down the hall, but then slowed his pace so he could enter with his usual diva-like aloofness. He pushed open the choir room door to find everyone seated, and all eyes glued to him. Something wasn't right. They all grinned with anticipation.

"I know you guys are glad to have me back, but this is just sort of creepy." He frowned at them.

He was about to move toward his usual seat beside Mercedes when someone began playing at the piano. Kurt glanced over his shoulder, first confused at seeing Brad standing a few feet from the piano bench, then feeling a rush of adrenaline at seeing the piano's player.

I walked across, an empty land

I knew the pathway like the back of my hand

Blaine's sweet voice, his sweet smile. Here. In McKinley. Kurt stood frozen in place. Blaine's smile only widened as he continued singing. After a few more lines, Brad took over the piano and Blaine stood. Making his way slowly around the piano, his eyes on Kurt's.

Oh simple thing, where have you gone?

I'm getting old and need something to rely on…

He didn't move immediately to Kurt. He took his time, moving around the room with familiar ease. Blaine had never cared for preplanned choreography, preferring his own natural movements to fit his lyrics. He directed his singing toward the group, all the while his steps taking him more and more in Kurt's direction until he was finally close enough that Kurt could smell spearmint and Crew hair gel.

So why don't we go, somewhere only we know?

He took one step closer, his hands folded behind his back as he finished his number.

Somewhere only we know

The song ended and the group applauded wildly. Kurt stood still for a moment longer before throwing his arms around Blaine's neck, unable to keep his excitement in check for a moment longer.

Blaine's laugh and arms around him. That was home. When Kurt finally allowed Blaine to take a step back, he wanted to squeeze him close all over again as he looked at that wonderful face.

"Surprise." Blaine grinned, wrapping Kurt in another hug.

"Did you- How- did you all know?" Kurt looked around in bewilderment at the group.

"Blaine came in and asked to do a number on Tuesday." Mr. Schuster looked pleased, as though he himself had come up with the whole thing. "He worked it all out with Brad the same night."

"I told you I had more important things to do than my paper on Tuesday." Blaine grinned at Kurt before giving a polite nod toward Mr. Schuster and the group. "Thank you again, for extending the opportunity."

"Thank you for the performance," Mr. Schuster stood to address the group motioning a hand for Blaine and Kurt to have a seat. "Blaine has actually agreed to help us work on some of our choreography and a Capella arrangements every Friday. So lets give a big round of applause for our newest honorary member."

Kurt looked at Blaine in pleasure-filled surprise. He wanted to kiss him right there. "You just can't keep away, can you?"

Blaine rested a casual arm around the back of Kurt's chair. "Not a chance."

As Mr. Schuster continued talking and the other members gave their coming home-themed performances, Kurt and Blaine exchanged happy glances. Blaine stood and gave a talk on organic choreography, using Kurt as his assistant for demonstrating many of the movements. The rest of the group reacted with enthusiasm, all infected with Blaine's charm, and pleased by the light he caused in Kurt's smile (Puck actually looked mildly uncomfortable, but Lauren elbowed him harshly enough in the ribs, that eventually even he smiled). When they returned to their seats, Blaine leaned in to murmur in Kurt's ear.

"You smell like…cherry." Blaine smiled slightly, but looked suspicious. Kurt had regaled him tales of getting slushied in the past, "Any particular reason?"

Kurt smiled and slid his chair close enough to Blaine's so that their shoulders were touching; he slipped his fingers between Blaine's. "It doesn't matter anymore."