Kurt was content. He had taken up residence on the Anderson's family room floor all afternoon and had busied himself reclining against the couch with a book and listening to the soft scratch of graphite on paper when Blaine scribbled out notes to himself. Blaine had been uncharacteristically quiet all day—his brow furrowed and his eyes intense as he flipped through the pages of his textbooks. Kurt had contemplated harassing him with snide remarks and flirtatious jabs, but instead opted to let him be; he liked Blaine when he was being studious.

He glanced up from his book to watch his boyfriend. Blaine was splayed out on his stomach, propped on his elbows. He chewed at his eraser as his eyes scanned the page below him. He'd see Blaine like this a lot over the next few years, he realized: pouring over readings, studying for college exams…

Blaine glanced up at him and made a face. His head bumped Kurt's hip when he rolled onto his back.

"How's the studying coming?" Kurt smiled down at him.

Blaine caught Kurt's hand in his. He manipulated Kurt's fingers into the shape of a gun and pressed them to his forehead, "Does that answer your question?"

Kurt laughed and pulled his hand free from Blaine's hold, "It can't be that bad."

Blaine gave him a dark look and rubbed his eyes, "You have no idea."

"You're brilliant," Kurt reassured him coolly, turning his gaze back to his book.

"I failed my physics final yesterday." Blaine retorted.

Kurt didn't look up from his book, "You're just being paranoid. I'm sure you did great."

"I left an entire page blank," Blaine mumbled. His hand was still over his eyes.

Kurt looked back down at him with a frown. He pushed Blaine's hand away from his face so he could see his eyes, "You knew that stuff backwards and forwards already last week."

"And yesterday I could barely remember any of it," Blaine said sadly.

Kurt observed Blaine's gloomy expression for a while before brushing the dark hair off of his forehead, "I'm sure it'll be fine; you've done well on all your other stuff in the class, haven't you?"

Blaine nodded reluctantly.

"And even if it does drop your grade, NYU already accepted you; they're not going to revoke your admission over a B or something." Kurt kept running his fingers through Blaine's hair.

"It'll kill my GPA though," Blaine sighed, "Which means my parents will kill me."

"I doubt your mom and dad are going to murder you over a three-nine grade point, Blaine." Kurt soothed, "And I'm sure you'll do brilliantly on your other exams. It was a nasty fluke, that's all."

Blaine didn't look so sure, his eyes drifted back to his open book on the floor.

Kurt pulled on a curl of his hair gently; "And you're done in two days. You can't be depressed over a high school exam when you're done in forty eight hours."

Blaine looked back up at him with a smile, "That's true."

"You know what else is preventing you from being permanently depressed?" Kurt dog-eared the page of his book and set it aside.

"Hmm?" Blaine tucked a hand behind his head.

"You have me here to be your tutor," Kurt plucked Blaine's book from the floor and turned it over. He smiled, "Why didn't you tell me you were studying for French?"

"I didn't want to bug you," Blaine shrugged.

"Asking for help with French could never be irritating," Kurt straddled Blaine's stomach and lifted his hand in his, "Repeat after me."

Blaine smirked, "'kay."

Kurt pressed a kiss to Blaine's palm, "La main."

Blaine broke into a full on grin, "La main."

Kurt positioned a palm on the floor on either side of Blaine's shoulders; he kissed his cheek, "La joue."

Blaine turned his head so Kurt could kiss his other cheek, "La joue."

Kurt kissed his nose.

Before Kurt could offer the word, Blaine spoke quickly, "le nez."

"Very good, Mr. Anderson—" Blaine caught Kurt by the neck and pulled his mouth down to his, effectively cutting off his speech.

When he pulled away just enough to allow some room for air, Blaine smiled, "J'adore votre lyvres."

Kurt laughed, "Okay, I get it; you don't need French help."

"Oh, but I do," Blaine pulled Kurt just a little closer, his lips brushing Kurt's when he talked, "Lots and lots of help."

"What you need help with is your concentration." Kurt sat back and lifted a book from the floor. He dropped it down on Blaine's chest, "Study."

Kurt made to shift off of Blaine, but Blaine caught his wrist, "Kurt?"

Kurt looked at him expectantly.

"Je t'aime." Blaine smiled.

"You are incorrigible," Kurt sighed; he leaned over Blaine again and kissed him with a smile, "Don't ever change."

"They'll be here, would you calm down?" Blaine threw Kurt a sideways smile, "and if they don't show, would it really be that bad to sit with my parents?"

Kurt gave him a pointed look, "Blaine, you can barely sit through dinner with your parents. You expect me to suffer through the awkwardness of enduring your entire commencement ceremony between them?"

Blaine grinned, "Touché; but you'd probably sit next to my mother; I doubt they'd stick you between them."

"No, no; they'd sit him right in the middle and gush over how lovely it is that you two little turtledoves are going to run away together next fall." A voice chided from behind them.

"Wes! You made it!" Blaine grinned, ignoring the playful jabs at he and Kurt.

"Of course I made it; I said I'd be here, didn't I?" Wes frowned at Blaine as though offended at the notion he would flake on making an appearance.

"We wouldn't miss out on the little Warblers finally leaving the nest, would we?" David appeared at Wes's shoulder, "Forgive us, though, if we have more people than just you to say hello to after being gone a whole year."

"You came to visit Dalton over Thanksgiving and Christmas and Spring Break and to watch the Warblers perform at—" Kurt ticked events off on his fingers.

"Okay, I get it; I was overdramatic," David scowled, "We could still make you sit with the Andersons, you know."

Kurt folded his hands into a prayer position, "Please don't; I'm no good with forced small talk and pleasantries. I thought I was going to die last time I stayed for dinner."

"Hey, come on, they're my parents," Blaine grimaced but then smiled for Kurt, "You're the first guy I've ever had stay for a meal, give them a little slack."

Kurt sighed, "Fine, fine. By the way, don't you need to be practicing harmonizing or something?"

"Yeah, aren't you supposed to be council head now?" Wes frowned at him, "I saw Jeff and Nick just wandering around earlier; shouldn't you be calling them to some kind of order by now?"

"Get off my case, you aren't in charge anymore Junior Chordial," Blaine straightened his hat and threw the trio a wink, "I've got it under control."

"You're as cheeky as you were when I was still in charge," Wes grumbled.

"Well if Blaine has a handle on the Warblers, we should get out of his hair," David pressed a hand into Wes's back, "Kurt, meet us at the doors."

Kurt smoothed a nonexistent wrinkle in Blaine's robes with a sigh, "Black is so much classier than our red ones were."

"I'm surprised you don't find them bland," Blaine quirked an eyebrow.

"On you, they look quite dashing, but they are lacking something…" Kurt tapped a finger against his lips for a moment as though deep in thought. He reached up to the lapel of his own jacket and unfastened the feather pin and pinned it to Blaine's robes, "There; perfect."

Blaine squeezed Kurt's hands between his once and looked down at the pin, "I'm assuming you're not trying to give this back to me."

"Of course not; I'll have you know my boyfriend gave that to me and it's very near and dear to my heart; I'll want it back the second we step foot into that after party at Nick's." Kurt sniffed indignantly.

"Nice gift; must be some boyfriend." Blaine smirked.

"He's a real peach," Kurt rolled his eyes and kissed Blaine's cheek quickly, "Go find your little songbirds and get practicing. I expect a perfect performance."

"Then you've come to the right place," Blaine winked.

"You're as cocky as you are dreamy," Kurt shook his head, "I'll see you after."

"It's not cocky to be self-aware of talent!" Blaine called after him.

Kurt glanced over his shoulder to shoot Blaine a look before continuing toward the auditorium. He slipped into his seat beside David. Wes was still grumbling about Blaine insulting his junior status in his new a cappella group.

"How is Cornell, by the way?" Kurt smiled over David at Wes.

"Difficult, exhausting, and wonderful." Wes smiled a little, "You're going to love college, Kurt."

"I'm interning this year," Kurt corrected, "Blaine will be at school though; I'll experience it vicariously through him."

"Did you two manage to convince Blaine's parents to let him live off campus?" David glanced up from the program he was flipping through.

Kurt sighed, "No; he has to stay in the dorms his first year; they don't care where he is after that… they think it's too much of a distraction for him to live off campus."

David snorted and turned his program toward Kurt, "If he can manage high honors at Dalton with you hanging around, I'm sure he'd be just fine next year."

Kurt took the program from David to beam down at the little double asterisks next to Blaine's name to indicate his pristine GPA. He made a mental note to tell Blaine I-told-you-so, but then Wes was speaking and he had to check back into the conversation.

"—to get the experience." Wes was nodding his head in that self-assured way of his.

"Come again?" Kurt did his best to not let Wes know he hadn't been paying attention.

Wes gave him a disgruntled look, "I said being in the dorms will be good for him; it's part of the college experience."

Kurt bit his lip as he contemplated their upcoming living situations, Blaine would be at college—staying in a room with another boy…

David caught his expression, "Relax, Kurt. Blaine's got eyes for only you; I hated my roommate, personally."

Kurt smiled at him gratefully.

The lights were dimming to signal the start of the ceremony.

Wes squinted down into his program as the graduates filed in down the center aisle to take their seats in the front rows. He smiled; clearly pleased, "Good song selection."

The Warblers filed onto the stage— they started their usual harmonizing, glancing toward the center as Nick and Jeff stepped forward.

I've been waiting for my dreams

To turn into something

I could believe in

And looking for that magic rainbow

On the horizon

I couldn't see it until I let go

Gave into love

And watched all the bitterness burn

Now I'm coming alive

Body and soul

And feelin' my world start to turn

The whole group joined in for the chorus; Kurt exchanged a quick smile with the other two former Warblers. Blaine had never let his comment about "Blaine and the Pips" slide; he'd been adamant about making sure he and the other council members allowed others the opportunity for solos and duets.

And I'll taste every moment

And live it out loud

I know this is the time,

This is the time

To be more than a name

Or a face in the crowd

I know this is the time

This is the time of my life

Time of my life

David nudged Kurt and winked when Blaine stepped forward for his solo. Kurt felt a swell of pride in his chest; Blaine's mere movement to the front of the pack sent a noticeable energy through the crowd. Even parents knew about Blaine Anderson's star status in the Warblers. Blaine beamed out at them all, still keeping in step with the boys behind him. He opened his mouth…. And nothing came out.

Kurt shifted a little in his seat; the Warblers kept the harmony going, but Blaine was mute at the front of the group; his expression moving from confused to panicked quickly. He found Kurt's eyes; they were practically screaming 'Help me.'

Kurt stared back feeling horribly powerless; there was nothing he could do. A tentative voice rang out from the group of Warblers.

Holding onto things that vanished

Into the air

Left me in pieces…

The Warbler stepped forward to stand along side Blaine and continued the song. Kurt had never been so grateful to see that familiar shock of blonde hair; Jeff glanced toward Blaine every few seconds as kept singing. Kurt was sure Blaine would brush off the misstep and pick up the song with his fellow Warbler.

He didn't. He paused in his dance steps for a brief second before slipping back into his place with the group, leaving Jeff to finish his solo.

Kurt could feel Wes and David's eyes on him, but he remained facing forward. What the hell had just happened?

The Warblers finished their song, and despite Blaine's little slip up, they were given a standing ovation. Blaine smiled and bowed with the rest before shuffling off stage to join their classmates, but Kurt could see what no one else could all over his face. Blaine was devastated and completely thrown off his game. His smile was forced when he went up to receive his diploma; he tripped a little on his way down the steps to return to his seat. Kurt felt an ache in his chest for him—when it came to his music, Blaine was an absolute perfectionist. A little slip up in choreography at a nursing home show could send him into a three hour drill of the steps until they were perfect; if something didn't sound quite right to him in the harmony, he would listen to every individual Warbler do their part until he found the source of the problem. Completely forgetting the lyrics at his graduation ceremony, though… this was going to be bad.

The Dean presented the class, and much like at the McKinley ceremony, hats flew into the air; the crowd got to their feet and clapped. The air was filled with excitement, but Kurt was tense as he tried to search out Blaine in the crowd of students meshing with family and friends.

"I hope you have a straightjacket for your boyfriend to prevent some serious self-harm." David spoke grimly into Kurt's ear.

"Trust me, I'm already trying to come up with something." Kurt sighed and rose up on his tiptoes—why did Blaine have to be so freaking short? He was impossible to pick out in the crush of bodies. Kurt looked for the next best target—he spied John Anderson quickly.

"We're going to round up the troops—meet us at Nick's?" Wes touched a hand to Kurt's arm, "Talk to Blaine; see if you can mellow him out, and we'll try to come up with some back up."

"Thanks," Kurt smiled bleakly and turned his attention back to his boyfriend's father, careful to keep him in his sight as he picked his way through the other students. When he finally broke through the last family separating him from the Andersons, he was a little relieved to find Blaine standing between his parents, a tight smile on his face as someone snapped a picture of the trio.

Even after the flash went off, Blaine kept smiling; he nodded and said something to the man who had taken the picture for them.

Elizabeth caught Kurt's eye and smiled politely. She murmured something in Blaine's ear before turning her attention back to another mother who had approached.

Blaine said something to the people he was standing with and offered a short laugh before excusing himself to move toward Kurt.

Kurt tried to give him his most winning smile, "Congrats, grad."

Blaine's smile fell, "Lets go before my parents decide we need to have a family dinner or something to celebrate."

"Are you sure you don't want—"

"Please, Kurt; lets just go," Blaine glanced around the room; a frown line forming between his eyebrows.

"Say no more; we're gone," Kurt jingled his car keys for Blaine to see before turning on his heel toward the exit, trusting Blaine to follow.

As soon as they were in the car, Blaine turned on the radio. The action spoke for itself: No, he didn't want to talk about it.

Kurt glanced over at him when they reached a stoplight.

Blaine had his forehead pressed against the window. His robe was unzipped and his Dalton uniform peaked out from underneath. He had his hat on his lap and the cord of his tassel wrapped so tightly around his fingers it was turning them white.

"You're going to lose a finger." Kurt said quietly.

Blaine ignored him, twisting the string even tighter around his hand.

Kurt pulled the car over on the side of the road and put it in park.

Blaine looked over at him in confusion.

Kurt folded his arms across his chest and stared back at him.

"What?" Blaine snapped, finally pulling his fingers free from the tassel.

"Blaine," Kurt kept his voice gentle, "You're so upset with yourself right now I feel like you're a bomb hazard."

"Wouldn't you be?" Blaine shot back; his tone still flat and angry.

Kurt nodded, "It's okay you're angry, but don't let it ruin your whole day. You finished high school today, Blaine; you graduated and with high honors; that's something to be proud of!"

"I made a fool of myself in front of the entire senior class and their families; in front of David and Wes and you." Blaine's hands were clenched into fists in his lap.

"No, making a fool of yourself in front of me and Wes and David was you attempting to woo a Gap employee with a Robin Thicke song; this was a tiny hiccup," Kurt tried to get a smile out of him, "It's not that big of a deal, so what if you forgot the lyrics—"

"I never forget lyrics," Blaine snapped.

Kurt bobbed his head up and down quickly; his attempt at damage control was failing miserably, "It was a one time thing, it happens—one time I forgot to—"

"I did not forget the lyrics!" Blaine shouted.

Kurt jumped; Blaine raising his voice was a rarity and it had never been directed at him before. Even when they fought, Blaine didn't shout: he got snarky, sure, but to raise his voice… it just didn't happen.

Despite his mood, Blaine seemed to note the breech in conduct, too. His scowl melted and he stared down at his lap. He repeated himself in a softer tone, "I didn't forget the lyrics."

"Okay…" Kurt frowned, "What happened, then?"

Blaine glanced up at him, "They were there in my head; I knew them—I know them—but I opened my mouth and… nothing came out. It was like a really, really horrible nightmare."

Kurt reached across the space between them and squeezed one of Blaine's hands. He knew that fear—every performer knew that fear, and poor perfection-obsessed Blaine had experienced it first hand at his final performance, "Were you nervous maybe?"

Blaine shot him a dubious look.

Kurt couldn't help but smile, "Right, okay, stupid question. Blaine Anderson doesn't get nervous."

"I do now." Blaine groaned, slumping low in his seat.

"Blaine, I know you," Kurt tried to meet Blaine's eyes, "It won't happen again."

"It can't happen again; I just ruined the final show for all the senior Warblers," Blaine flinched as though the notion physically stung him.

"You hardly ruined it—Jeff got to sing a duet and a solo—he probably thinks it was your best show yet," Kurt pulled the pin from Blaine's gown and replaced it on his vest, "The only way you could possibly ruin it is to keep beating yourself up over this and ruin the whole party. Everyone's happy today, Blaine, and they want to see you happy, too. Please try? For me?"

Blaine studied Kurt's pin for a long moment before lifting his gaze to his face. He let out a long breath, "…okay."

"Smile." Kurt commanded.

Blaine forced an overly cheery grin for a second before rolling his eyes.

Kurt snorted, "Beautiful. Now give me a kiss and stop beating up on my boyfriend; I like him a lot and I don't like to see anyone getting down on him."

Blaine's mouth finally turned up into a genuine smile as he leaned across the gearshift to give Kurt his demanded kiss. When he sat back in his seat, his shoulders had relaxed and the angry line on his forehead had disappeared.

Kurt shifted back into drive and pulled back onto the road, "Much better."

Kurt felt his phone vibrate against his leg when they were nearly in Nick's neighborhood. He pulled it out and had to stifle a giggle.

'Should we be hiding all sharp objects and anything that could be used as a noose?' –D

Despite Kurt's attempts at nonchalance, Blaine had read the message over his shoulder anyway. He rolled his eyes, "Tell him I am no longer a hazard to myself or others."

Kurt smiled and typed out a quick response knowing Blaine would be reading the message, too.

'He'll be fine, but watch your mouth; his sanity is a little questionable…'-K

"Very funny," Blaine grumbled, he looked up at the house sullenly as they pulled up along the curb behind a long row of cars. Even through the closed windows, they could hear the boys out back at the pool. His expression melted into anxiety, "You really think they aren't upset?"

"You are so thick headed it is unbelievable sometimes," Kurt let out an irritated sigh, "Yes, I truly, honestly one-hundred and ten percent believe they are not even a fraction of a bit upset with you."

Blaine nodded slowly and pulled the gown off from over his uniform, "All right… if you're right and they're not mad, then they're going to tease me relentlessly, so lets just get this over with."

"Stop being such a baby, this is supposed to be fun," Kurt watched Blaine as he balled up the shiny black fabric and tossed it into the backseat before climbing out of the car.

Blaine trailed after Kurt as he made his way around the side of the house.

As soon as the other Warblers were aware of them, two turned to face them with squirt guns aimed.

"Unless you are ready to die a very painful and very untimely death, do not even think about it." Kurt glowered at them fiercely.

"Our quarrel is not with you, good sir," the first Warbler pointed his gun toward Blaine with a grin, "It's with our former lead— you force us into a three hour rehearsal on the last day of school, Blaine, and you forget the words to your own solo? Really?"

"I didn't forget the lyrics!" Blaine sulked and threw a look at Kurt, but before Kurt could even form a reply, the two were running at Blaine, fingers pressed down on the triggers of their guns.

Blaine yelped indignantly when one successfully soaked his suit shirt and tried to take cover behind Kurt.

"Enough, guys," Jeff pushed down the guns of the other two, "Blaine was very generous today—he gave me the opportunity to play hero and soloist; cut him some slack."

"Ha ha," Blaine rolled his eyes as he peaked out from behind Kurt's back.

"Go torment someone else," Jeff waved them away toward the pool where some of the other boys were swimming. He watched them go before turning back to Blaine with a nervous smile, "I didn't get the chance to catch you after the ceremony—I had to take pictures with my family and stuff; I'm sorry for just jumping in like that, I just thought—"

"You have nothing to apologize for; you saved me from completely falling flat on my face," Blaine shrugged, "It should be me apologizing; I'm sorry for—"

"Oh for Christ's sake, Blaine, shut up," David appeared at Jeff's side, "You have not missed a single step since your first day with the Warblers— the odds were stacked against you; everyone screws up at some point."

Blaine ignored Kurt jabbing an I-am-always-right elbow into his side, "I guess so."

"It's over; we're graduated," Nick clapped Blaine on the back as he passed and shoved a red cup into his hand, "So live it up and drink it down."

Blaine tipped the cup from side to side and stared down into its contents. The faint spicy aroma of rum tickled his nose.

"Go ahead," Kurt nudged Blaine lightly.

"I thought you were highly against me drinking," Blaine raised an eyebrow as he looked toward Kurt.

"Well, seeing as how you've just graduated, you're crabby, you worked your ass off this year, and there is not a girl in sight for you to suddenly go all bi-curious for," Kurt smirked, "I think it's safe to say a drink might be good for you."

Blaine laughed despite himself, but still looked unsure. He glanced up at Jeff, "Where are Nick's parents?"

"Choosing to play ignorant," Jeff shrugged; he held his cup out toward Blaine's.

"Good enough for me," Blaine shrugged and tapped his cup against Jeff's before taking a drink.

"Keep calm and warble on," Jeff winked and took a long gulp from his cup.

It took only minutes before a similar cup was forced into Kurt's hand despite his loud 'I-have-had-nothing-but-bad-alcohol-experiences' protest, and, despite all his protesting, it was only a few more minutes before he was sweetly requesting that his cup be refilled.

He sipped his second drink more slowly; his head already a little fuzzy and his limbs warm from the first. He turned his attention to Blaine who had finally relaxed back into his usual mellow demeanor. Kurt noted he was still wearing his wet shirt, "Don't you feel a little stifled still being in that uniform? It's like a million degrees out here."

Blaine looked down at his blazer and traced a finger along a line of red piping, "I won't ever wear this again after today; kind of sad really…"

Kurt looked over his boyfriend, remembering the first day they met on the stairwell. That uniform had made him look so unbearably dreamy… he leaned into Blaine's side; liking the familiar feel of the fabric against his arm, "I'm going to miss it, too. It's like a part of you in a weird way."

Blaine recovered from the sudden sentimental attack and grinned, "I'll bring it with to New York; we could always play dress up…"

"I have no idea what kind of role play scenario you have running through your head, but put it away please." Kurt laughed and sipped at his drink.

"You really want to just brush of the retirement of my uniform like it's nothing?" Blaine clutched a hand over his heart as though hurt.

"None of the other boys are having separation anxiety or parting ceremonies for their Dalton attire," Kurt motioned a hand toward the others around them in either swimsuits or casual clothes, "Besides, a blazer that doesn't involve red piping will be a pleasant change."

"You love this blazer," Blaine retorted; his voice low.

"Don't do that to me," Kurt pouted at his boyfriend.

"Do what?" Blaine leaned in closer.

"That voice—you know what I'm talking about, too, so don't you dare try to deny it. I cannot resist that voice." Kurt insisted, but it wasn't just the voice. It was those eyes, and that hair, and that smile…

"So stop resisting." Blaine's face was so close, Kurt could feel his breath, warm and sweet against his skin.

"You're incorrigible," Kurt murmured. He tried to remind himself there were people around; that he needed to maintain some sense of decency in public, but why oh why did Blaine's lips have to look so perfectly kissable?

"If I remember right, I was asked to never change that little bit of my personality." Blaine murmured. He suddenly pulled away from their close proximity and finished off his drink.

Kurt blinked; feeling more drunk off Blaine than alcohol.

Blaine stood up casually, shaking out his left foot a little and peering down at Kurt, "I'm going to go get out of these wet clothes."

Kurt nodded dumbly.

"I brought a couple different shirts; I might need a little help picking out what to wear…"

Kurt stumbled to his feet and latched onto Blaine's hand, "'m sure there's a spare room in the basement we can get you dressed in—that is, if you can remember how to unbutton your shirt."

"When have I ever forgotten how to undo my shirt?" Blaine frowned as he followed after Kurt. He hadn't been wearing a button down that night at Rachel's, he was sure of it, but he could think of no other time he might have displayed any sort of difficulty with his shirt…

"Well you never forget lyrics either, there's a first time for everything," Kurt shrieked when Blaine growled and pulled him back against his body.

"I don't forget lyrics," Blaine insisted, holding Kurt close.

"Oh, yeah?" Kurt retorted; trying to ignore the fact that Blaine's mouth was only an inch from his, "Prove it."

Blaine didn't distance himself even a fraction of a centimeter.

Holding onto things that vanished

Into the air

Left me in pieces

But now I'm rising from the ashes

Finding my wings

And all that I needed

Was there all along

Within my reach

As close as the beat of my heart

Kurt swallowed hard to regain composure. The only thing more attractive than Blaine talking to him or looking at him or smiling at him was Blaine singing at him, "Okay, fine; Blaine Anderson doesn't forget lyrics."

"Never ever?" Blaine's hands moved up to frame Kurt's face.

"Never ever," Kurt agreed; a small thought began to form, a query he wanted to add to that sentence, but then Blaine was closing the space between them and there was no more room for words.

Despite the warmth of Blaine's mouth on his and the soft buzz of alcohol in his head, that small nagging thought tugged at the back of Kurt's mind.

… What the hell happened on stage?