Kurt woke with a start, blinking and trying to orient himself. Someone's foot was dangerously close to his face—he wrinkled his nose and shoved it away gruffly—he blinked at the boys around him passed out on couches and chairs. Nick's basement he registered dully; he had fallen asleep on the floor of Nick's basement snuggled under a comforter with Blaine. The light seeping in from cracks in the curtains was hazy and gray; over the soft hum of even breathing all around him, Kurt could hear the sound of rain pelting the glass. He lifted his phone—7:28. He mentally cursed his inability to stay in bed past eight and dropped his phone back down. He stared up at the ceiling for a few minutes before he rolled over to face his boyfriend. Maybe it could be construed as creepy, but Kurt loved to watch Blaine sleep. Since the very first accidental sleep over they had shared after Rachel's party, Blaine had proven to be nearly impossible to share a bed with. The second he dozed off, he had a tendency to splay out across the sheets; a leg kicked out at an awkward angle over the majority of the mattress, one arm hanging off the edge of the bed; he slept with the reckless abandon that only boys can possess and, though it resulted in being kicked through a large portion of the night, Kurt absolutely adored that quality in Blaine.

Kurt frowned as he studied the boy beside him. He was on his back and had a forearm cast over his eyes and one knee up, but he otherwise lay still. It was the tenseness of the position that bothered Kurt—Blaine was deadweight when he slept, completely relaxed and lost to the wonderland of his unconscious; this was…off. Kurt prodded him lightly in the side, "Blaine?"

"Don't yell in my ear," Blaine groaned, not moving.

"I'm whispering," Kurt retorted quietly.

"Feels like you're screaming," Blaine mumbled. He dropped the arm from his face, but kept his eyes tightly closed.

Kurt frowned and tried to jog his memory of the night before. Blaine couldn't have had more than three or four drinks over the course of the night—not enough to result in much damage, and besides, Kurt had kept pace with him and he felt great. Well, maybe not great, but he felt decent, "You're not hung over are you?"

Blaine shook his head and grimaced, "No, but my head is about to explode, will you hand me my bag? I've got Advil in there."

Kurt climbed out from under the warmth of the covers, shivering when the cold air made contact with his skin. He stepped over a few boys and retrieved Blaine's duffle bag. He sat down on top of the comforter and rifled through Blaine's things—a toothbrush, a clean shirt, cologne… he almost missed the little white bottle. He popped the cap off and looked down into the container, "You think you need three?"

"Make it four," Blaine pressed the heel of his right hand into his forehead.

"You've only got three," Kurt poured them into his palm to be sure.

"What?" Blaine finally opened tired eyes to frown up at Kurt, "I just bought that bottle yesterday; are you sure?"

Kurt tipped the empty container for him to see, "Unless you attempted an Advil OD sometime in the past twenty four hours, I'm assuming this isn't the container you bought."

Blaine closed his eyes for a minute and sighed, "I must have grabbed the wrong one by mistake."

"So three or none?" Kurt held out the pills.

Blaine scooped them off Kurt's palm and swallowed them dry before dragging Kurt's vacated pillow over his face, "Thanks."

Kurt set to work quietly repacking the things he'd pulled out of Blaine's bag. He tried to form some sort of system to the contents. He liked that sort of thing: organizing and coordinating and planning—it gave him room to think; let his mind wander… he frowned as he replaced the empty pill bottle in a side pocket, "Blaine?"

"Mmm?" Blaine didn't move.

"Was the Advil for an anticipated hangover?" Kurt f olded Blaine's wrinkled Dalton shirt before tucking it down into the bottom of the bag.

"No," Blaine's voice was muffled under the pillow, "'v beh get' 'daches."

Kurt rolled his eyes and pulled the pillow off of Blaine's face, "Come again?"

Blaine scowled at him over the loss of his pillow before repeating, "I've been getting headaches."

"You didn't tell me that," Kurt frowned at him, holding the pillow above his head when Blaine made a grab for it.

"I also didn't tell you that I like toast for breakfast and I need to buy a new pair of shoes," Blaine rolled his eyes, "I don't tell you every little thing running through my head."

"Okay, you made your point; you don't need to tell me everything," Kurt sniffed indignantly and dropped the pillow back down on Blaine's face, " But I'll have you know I make wonderful toast, and I shouldn't need to remind you that I am the go-to person for fashion advice."

Blaine pulled the pillow down and hugged it to his chest, "I'm not trying to be mean—I'm saying I didn't tell you because it's not a big deal."

"Well you could have worded it that way instead of implying I'm clingy or something," Kurt inspected his fingernails with a pout.

"I don't think you're clingy," Blaine yawned, "But as long as we're discussing what's running through my head; I'm thinking you're adorable with bed head."

Kurt blushed and ran a hand through his hair but smiled, "Not as adorable as you with crease lines across your cheek from your pillow."

"As endearing as you two are flirting at seven in the morning, please desist so the rest of us can get some sleep," Wes grumbled from somewhere nearby on the floor.

"Seriously," David chimed, his voice raspy with sleep, "I'm going to need a dentist appointment to deal with the destruction of all that sweet. Shut up."

"Have them send me the bill," Kurt retorted with a smile.

David threw his pillow at him in response.

"How sweet of you to give this to me; you're so thoughtful, David," Kurt settled back down on his back beside Blaine; fluffing the side of the pillow and smiling sweetly at David.

"Remind me to kill you when I'm actually awake for the day," David glowered at him before dropping his head back down onto the couch and pulling the blanket over his head.

Blaine threw one of his pillows at the older Warbler before rolling onto his stomach and snuggling in beside Kurt.

"Can we please get up for the day?" Kurt poked at Blaine's shoulder.

Blaine didn't open his eyes; he yawned, "Hold tight for an hour or so; I can barely function with this headache."

"Maybe you need caffeine," Kurt was restless; the notion of lying awake for another hour practically made his legs tingle with energy; he tried to make his offer sound as enticing as possible, "If you get up now, I'll buy you coffee."

Blaine was already drifting back to sleep; he stretched an arm across Kurt's chest and nuzzled his face in close to his arm, "Just lay here with me for awhile."

Lay here with me. Kurt finally gave up his attempts to rouse Blaine; the words made him nostalgic. He lifted a hand and held it over the one Blaine had draped across his chest—he closed his eyes and remembered the first time they had ever cuddled like this.

"I cannot believe you've never watched all of When Harry Met Sally," Kurt scoffed as he dropped the DVD down into the player.

"It's like five hours long; you know I don't have that kind of attention span," Blaine shrugged from where he lay splayed out on the couch.

Kurt was attempting to locate the remote for the DVD player with little success, but he threw Blaine a look as he tried to dig a hand under the couch; groping for anything solid possibly hiding underneath, "It is not five hours long, and considering the fact that it was a part of a pivotal conversation in our relationship as friends and anything else, it should hold your attention."

"I saw it way before we met; I'm sure if it had been on TV or something after Valentine's Day I would have left it on and sat through the whole thing," Blaine offered no help with the remote quest; his eyes followed Kurt around the room with bemusement.

"Mhm, sure," Kurt let out a frustrated sigh when the remote refused to show itself, "I wish that when you're looking for something it would just appear when you needed it… or if I had a boyfriend that would help me look for said lost object, that could also be nice."

Blaine waved a hand in the air, "Accio remote!"

Kurt stared at him disdainfully, "Did you really just shout a Harry Potter spell?"

Blaine smiled, "Yes, and it didn't work, so I suggest you give up the hunt."

Kurt sighed and went back to the TV to hit play. He stood by the screen, letting out little irritated sighs as he skipped through the previews until he finally reached the menu. He hit play and turned to join Blaine on the couch, but he hesitated.

Blaine was still stretched out across the length of the couch; he smiled up at Kurt, "See, it didn't take that long to do it manually."

"No, I guess not," Kurt remained suspended in the middle of the family room. He and Blaine had only been together for what… a few days? They'd only decided on watching a movie because they were getting nowhere rehearsing for Regionals and now Kurt wasn't sure what to do—ask him to scoot over? Sit in the armchair? Smash himself in at the end of the couch?

"You know, considering how disgusted you were that I've only ever seen like half of this, I'm surprised you're willing to spend so much time blocking the screen," Blaine grinned at him.

"Oh, uh, right; sorry," Kurt quickly sat down in the armchair adjacent to Blaine; thanking God the only light was the dim glow of the television so Blaine wouldn't be able to notice his scarlet cheeks.

Blaine frowned and rolled onto his stomach, resting his chin on the top of his hands on the armrest to stare over at Kurt.

Kurt stared fixedly at the movie for as long as he could, but he could feel Blaine's eyes on the side of his face. He glanced over at him, "TV's straight ahead Blaine, not over here."

Blaine tilted his head and continued to study Kurt, "I'm aware."

Kurt glanced between the screen and his boyfriend—were they boyfriends? Like officially? They hadn't actually discussed it… they kissed a lot; they flirted; they held hands, but maybe that was all it meant to Blaine for now, just the next stepping stone in the Harry and Sally dynamic of figuring out what they had together… Blaine was still watching him, and Kurt was getting unnerved, "Do you need something or what?"

"Yes, I do," Blaine broke into a smile, "You. Over here. Now."

Kurt stood, but once again wasn't sure what to do—did he sit at the end by Blaine's feet or was he supposed to sit with Blaine's head in his lap? He was flustered and confused all over again and wishing he had never suggested they watch the movie.

Blaine laughed as he watched Kurt's torn expression. He made room between himself and the inside of the couch, "Climb over."

They were going to… lie together? Kurt didn't know why he was so nervous; he'd kissed Blaine, he'd shared a bed with Blaine (though he wasn't sure if Blaine passing out and kicking him through half the night really counted), but still his stomach twisted with nerves at the notion of such intimate contact. He awkwardly climbed over Blaine and slipped down beside him; his limbs awkward and his back stiff.

"Relax; I don't bite," Blaine tucked an arm around his back and gently pulled Kurt down until his head was resting on his chest.

Oh… well this was actually kind of nice… really nice… okay, amazingly nice. Kurt relaxed; tucked a hand up on Blaine's chest beside his face and tangled his legs with Blaine's.

"Comfortable?" Blaine tilted his head to look at Kurt.

Kurt nodded, "Are you?"

"Much more so than before," Blaine smoothed his hand up and down Kurt's back a couple times and turned his attention to the television screen.

Kurt rubbed a finger over the smooth surface of a pearl colored button on Blaine's shirt. Sure holding Blaine's hand made little butterflies take flight in his stomach and kissing him made his entire head spin and adrenaline rush all the way to the tips of his toes, but lying with Blaine like that, his body warm and sturdy and enveloping beneath his own, Kurt felt right; he felt whole. Blaine's free hand came up to cover his own, the vibrations of his voice resounding in his chest below Kurt's ear, "I don't know why I'm Billy Crystal; I would never wear flared jeans."

"He updates his wardrobe later and you're Billy because I'm Meg," Kurt snuggled in closer to Blaine's side and was rewarded with Blaine's arm squeezing tighter around him. Normally he would have snapped at anyone who dared to talk through a movie, but he listened to Blaine's running commentary with pleasure.

When the film was over, neither one made a move to turn of the TV. Kurt listened to the heartbeat below his ear and closed his eyes, content with the notion of staying right there forever. Blaine, never one for sitting still or ceasing his endless chatter, traced Kurt's knuckles with a thumb and remained silent. Kurt turned his hand over and caught Blaine's fingers between his own, "You're unusually quiet."

"Just thinking," Kurt couldn't see his face, but he could hear the smile in Blaine's voice.

"What are you thinking about?"

"How nice it is to not be lonely anymore."

Kurt smiled at the memory and slipped his fingers under Blaine's palm to squeeze his hand tighter. Yeah, he could lie here for a while.

Blaine's foot shifted under the covers and his thumb twitched against Kurt's palm; Kurt wondered absently what he was dreaming about. Music most likely… it seemed fitting that Blaine would dream of music and dancing on a regular basis; but today it was probably about screwing up his graduation performance. Kurt made a mental note to look up NYU show choirs when he got home; Blaine wasn't going to just let his slip up at commencement go without a little bit of self-loathing, and Kurt could use the list of potential singing groups Blaine could join as a distraction. He should probably start figuring out how he was going to pack up all his clothes, and where his boxes upon boxes of shoes would go in the apartment he and Rachel had their eye on, too… the mental to-do list grew and became more elaborate the longer he lay there. People he wanted to make sure to spend time with before the summer was out; outfits he needed to purchase; places he wanted to take Blaine; forms he still needed to mail in for his internship... When Nick roused himself—whining about his stiff neck and soar back from spending the night asleep in an armchair—Kurt welcomed the interruption to his list making; he was stressing himself out.

Nick paused in his complaints to look at Kurt and roll his eyes, "You two are the only people in the world who are as lovey-dovey and sappy unconscious as you are conscious. I don't know if I'm filled with warm and fuzzies or nausea."

"I'm just hungry for breakfast." Jeff sat up from his own awkward sleeping position crushed at the end of the couch by David's feet.

"Perkins trip?" Nick looked over at his friend hopefully.

Some of the other Warblers opened their eyes at the mention of food and Jeff bobbed his head up and down, "I could definitely go for a Perkins trip."

The others were quickly on their feet and searching for their bags.

Kurt drummed his fingers across the back of his boyfriend's hand, "Blaine, get up."

Blaine shook his head and kept his eyes closed.

"It is past nine and the guys want to go to breakfast; I'm not really giving you a choice," Kurt sat up and stretched his arms above his head; sleeping on the floor rarely did anything good for his back, "Get up."

Blaine groaned and turned his face down into his pillow, "But I'm tired."

"You can sleep all summer long if you want, but right now you have to go get dressed," Kurt retorted, rubbing a hand across Blaine's back.

"You're far too easy on him," Wes rolled his eyes and stood over the other two with hands on his hips, "He is the worst morning person in the world. You have to be assertive."

"Here, I'll demonstrate," David strode over and, in one swift movement, tore the blanket off of Blaine, "Anderson, get your sorry ass out of bed this second."

"Hey!" Blaine sat up to glower at David.

"See?" Wes gave an approving smile to David before turning back to Kurt, "A little authority goes a long way; trust me."

"I'll make a mental note," Kurt suppressed a giggle as Blaine threw disgruntled looks at all three of them. He thrust Blaine's bag into his lap, "Go change."

"You go change; I'm not the one who is going to keep everybody waiting with my hour long moisturizing routine," Blaine grumbled, but he was already peering down into his bag for the change of clothes he had packed.

"Who said anything about waiting for anyone?" Nick pulled a clean shirt over his head, "There's no way in hell I'm standing around and starving while you two finish up your skin and hair routines— you have fifteen minutes. Go."

Kurt hopped to his feet and dashed toward the bathroom, leaving Blaine to fend for himself. He took a moment to wrinkle his nose at his reflection in the mirror. His skin looked a little dull and, despite his shower the previous night, he was sure he could still detect the faint smoky scent of bonfire in his hair. He sighed as he set to work rubbing lotion into his skin. Sleepovers with boys were simply not good for one's vanity. He prepped himself as quickly as possible, nearly spilling a few of his face creams in the process. Blaine joined him a few minutes later, already dressed in a clean polo and shorts and his toothbrush dangling from one hand. He leaned his back against the wall as he brushed his teeth and watched Kurt fix his hair. Kurt offered him a quick smile, "Well, well, well; look who's finally decided to grace the waking world with his presence."

Blaine rinsed his mouth out and eyed his reflection beside Kurt's; he dragged a hand through his unruly curls.

Kurt watched him, "Don't put product in it; I like it like that."

"Messy?" Blaine turned his head back and forth to inspect his hair before throwing Kurt a cynical look.

"It's not messy, it's natural, and I think it's cute," Kurt insisted as he shoved his hair and skin products back into their bag.

"I think you're cute," Blaine dropped his hand from his hair and smiled over at Kurt.

Jeff popped his head through the doorway, "Can you two just flirt at the restaurant? I'm going to faint from near-starvation over here."

Kurt and Blaine exchanged a look before trailing after the other boy to the main room.

"They're ready!" Jeff announced, shrugging his duffel bag over one arm.

The others cheered and made their way toward the door.

"We're not that bad," Kurt rolled his eyes but couldn't fight the blush that tinted his cheeks.

Blaine squeezed his hand once reassuringly, "They're just jealous because we have all the talent and all the good looks."

"You might have to rethink the claim to being the most talented—no one else forgot the lyrics yesterday," chimed someone from the pack of boys moving toward the cars.

The unnamed Warbler was promptly smacked on the head by at least four others.

Kurt wished he was close enough to get a good solid hit in on the boy, too, when he saw Blaine's smile falter, "And no one else has led you guys to Regionals two years in a row, so I suggest you shut your mouth."

Blaine smiled at him gratefully, but offered no defense of his own as everyone dispersed into cars.

Kurt turned on the windshield wipers and followed Nick's car out of the neighborhood. He didn't listen to the playful honks and teasing from the two cars full of Warblers behind him. All he could hear was the silence in his own car, "Blaine."

"Hm?"

"You told me you weren't going to tear yourself up over the commencement performance," Kurt ignored Nick when he pulled up alongside him and tried to engage him in a race.

"I'm not," Blaine replied, pulling open Kurt's glove compartment to search through its contents.

"You didn't turn the radio on. You only leave the radio off when you're upset," Kurt pointed at the blackened screen above the CD player in his dashboard.

"I'm not turning the radio on because my head is going to tear me in two," Blaine pulled a pair of sunglasses out of the glove compartment and shoved them on despite the fact that low gray clouds obscured any potential sunlight.

"Didn't the medicine help?" Kurt felt a small twinge of guilt for accusing Blaine of lying to him.

"No," Blaine sighed.

"Do you want me to just take you home?" Kurt glanced over at Blaine with concern, "I'm sure the others would understand."

"No, that's okay; they get better with time…and coffee. Lots of coffee." Blaine offered Kurt a lame smile.

"Well then you're in luck—along with providing plentiful trans fat, Perkins gives free refills on coffee."

When they pulled into the parking lot, Kurt killed the engine, but frowned at Blaine. He looked pale and sleepy, "Are you sure you don't want to go home?"

Blaine yawned and shoved open his car door, "Positive; I told you, they're only really bad in the mornings."

Kurt frowned, "How long have you been getting these headaches for?"

"A couple weeks or so; I don't know. They come and go," Blaine shrugged, "Come on, lets get inside."

Despite his reassurances, Blaine lagged behind as they walked through the slow drizzle of rain and into the restaurant. He sank down into a chair beside Kurt and didn't bother taking his glasses off or brushing the rain from his hair.

"I know you tend to be one for theatrics, Blaine, but you've been out of bed for over an hour now; the I'm-not-a-morning-person-routine thing only works for about fifteen minutes after waking up," David glanced over the top of his menu at the boy across from him, "After that it's just chronic laziness."

"Leave him alone, he doesn't feel good," Kurt rested a hand on Blaine's knee below the table, "And he's the opposite of lazy; he never stops moving."

"Relax, Kurt, we're only teasing him," David smiled, "Right, Blaine?"

Blaine rolled his eyes and gave him a thumbs up as he tucked his sunglasses into his pocket. He threw the light above their heads a dirty look.

"Speaking of keeping busy, how are the new senior board members doing?" Wes glanced up from his menu.

"They're good," Blaine finally perked up a little, "But not as good as someone we're getting next year; have I told you about Trip yet?"

"No; what kind of a name is Trip?" David wrinkled his nose.

"Trip is the kind of name overly presumptuous parents give to their babies when they are more concerned with proving that their family comes from some well-to-do New England background than the fact that their child has to live with that god awful name for the rest of their lives," Blaine smiled wryly, "Blaine is another perfect example of such a name."

"I like the name Blaine," Kurt murmured and squeezed Blaine's knee.

Blaine smiled appreciatively at Kurt.

"Stay focused, please, Anderson; you have the rest of forever for you and Kurt to gush over one another; tell us about Trip," Wes snapped his fingers impatiently.

Blaine made a face at him but continued, "Trip Morgan is who will take the Warblers to Nationals next year."

The table fell silent and everyone turned to look at Blaine. Graduating or not, the notion of the Warblers finally making it past the Ohio border sent a thrill through all of them.

"Do tell," Wes waved away the waitress when she came to check if they were ready to order and leaned in closer to Blaine.

"He's phenomenal," Blaine looked around at all of them, "Like jaw-dropping, eye popping, weeping tears of emotion amazing."

Kurt had yet to meet the elusive Trip Morgan, but he has heard what little information Blaine was willing to dole out, "Trip is Blaine's most recent rescue project."

Blaine leaned his elbows on the table and rubbed his temples, "He's not a rescue, per say; he's… well, he hasn't had the easiest time of it; he'll be boarding at Dalton in the fall."

"How'd you find this one? Was he spying on a Warbler's practice?" David winked at Kurt.

"No, my aunt told me about him—family friends or something; she mentioned he'd be coming to Dalton, and I said I'd keep an eye on him. We met over winter break when I went out to visit."

"Why's he coming to school in Ohio?" David frowned.

"That's his business," Blaine waved the question away, "The point is, he's interested in joining the Warblers and he's great."

"And, how, Oh Finder of the Angelic Voices, do you plan on mentoring him from New York?" Wes raised an eyebrow at Blaine.

"He's going to be living with relatives here all summer," Blaine shot back; he turned to smile at Kurt, "And talent like the people I've found rarely need much coaching anyway."

Nick rolled his eyes and turned his attention to flagging down the waitress, "I'm going to order before you start in on a monologue about your boyfriend again."

The topic was dropped and the others went back to their previous conversations, but Kurt was quiet beside Blaine. He knew about as much about this Trip character as David and Wes; Blaine had come home from his Christmas vacation out east and gushed about the boy's talent, but offered little other information. He trusted Blaine, he really did, but he couldn't help but feel a hint of jealousy over Blaine's praises directed toward this mystery boy.

He glanced over at Blaine who, having said his piece, had fallen back into slumping over the table with both hands clasped around his coffee mug.

"When's Trip going to get here?" Kurt tried to keep his voice flippant.

"In a couple weeks I think," Blaine didn't look up from the dark liquid inside his cup.

Kurt opened his mouth, prepared to fish for more answers but he was interrupted.

"Honey, what can I get for you?" The waitress had reappeared and she was looking down at Blaine expectantly with a pen poised in her hand.

"Just toast, please," Blaine smiled up at her.

"I'll have the same," Kurt flashed the waitress a quick smile of his own. He had planned on turning his attention back to Blaine, but then Jeff was pulling him into a conversation about a Lady Gaga and Brittany Spears mash up and he was fully distracted.

It wasn't until their food came that he finally looked over at his boyfriend. He looked even worse than before—his skin ashy and his fingers trembling at the edge of the table. He pushed his plate away the second it was set down in front of him. Kurt immediately pushed all interrogations relating to Trip from his mind.

"Come on," Kurt said quietly, pulling the napkin from his lap and dropped it on the table, "I'm taking you home."

Blaine shook his head, "We just got our food, Kurt, it—"

"You're not going to eat it anyway and I won't be able to eat either knowing you're sitting here feeling terrible," Kurt reached into his pocket for his wallet.

David looked up at him questioningly.

"I'm going to take him home; he's feeling pretty awful." Kurt fished a few bills out of his wallet and dropped them down on the table.

"Kurt, I can pay for—" Blaine frowned.

"Nonsense, you always pay," Kurt brushed Blaine's offer aside before turning his attention back to David, "If that doesn't cover us, let me know and I'll pay you back."

"I think fifteen dollars will be more than enough for some toast and a couple coffees; I'll give you change next time I see you," David laughed, "Feel better, Blaine; I want to hear more about this Trap kid."

"Trip," Blaine corrected, "And I'll call you later."

Kurt pressed a hand into the small of Blaine's back and maneuvered them around tables and chairs.

The hostess frowned when she caught sight of them heading toward the doors, "It's really coming down hard out there right now, guys, you might want to wait for it to let up a little. That's what everyone else is doing."

Kurt noted the other people milling around the lobby, impatient for the rain to abate. He peered out the glass-fronted doors at the sheets of rain pelting the parking lot; he could barely see the first row of cars, "Great."

Blaine stood beside him, his hands in his pockets and his eyes focused on the downpour outside, "Should we just sit back down?"

Kurt glanced over his shoulder at the surrounding scene—there was a table directly behind where the other boys were sitting that was currently playing host to a group of women than let out peels of shrieking laughter every few minutes. He eyed the bench nearby and considered having them wait there until the storm passed.

A child (that in Kurt's opinion was much too old for temper tantrums) abruptly lay down on the floor and began wailing; her fists pounding into the carpet and her mother screaming above the din for her to stop making a scene.

Kurt glanced over his shoulder at the frazzled maître Dee, "We'll take our chances with the rain."

"You sure you want to go out in that?" Blaine tore his eyes away from the mother and child to look at Kurt.

"I can shower and redo my hair when I get home," Kurt eyed the melee behind them, "I cannot, however, regain the hearing I'm going to lose if I stay in here. Lets just make a run for it."

Blaine slipped his hand into Kurt's, "Count of three?"

Kurt nodded, "One…two… three! Go!"

They dashed out of the restaurant and into the storm; slipping and sliding between cars. Kurt was soaked all the way down to his skin almost the second they were out the door, and he couldn't quite remember where they parked. Despite there being no hope for saving his clothes he kept jogging through the rivers of water quickly forming on the pavement below his feet, tugging Blaine along beside him. A streak of lightening split the sky and illuminated the sheets of water pouring down on them, and the crack of thunder that followed nearly shook the ground. The rain turned everything blurry in Kurt's eyes, the thunder growled and rumbled in his ears, and the air smelled of hot, wet pavement and the chemical tang of ozone; his senses were busy and his head nearly disoriented with the storm, but Kurt was acutely aware of something important suddenly not registering with him. Where only a second ago there had been warm, sure fingers tangled with his, there was now nothing.

Kurt skittered to a stop, flailing his arms out to keep his balance, "Blaine, come on, we need to— Blaine!"

The little spike in adrenaline he had felt at nearly slipping on the pavement was barely a blip compared to the rush of terror he felt flooding his head when he turned around to call for his companion. Despite the downpour, Kurt could easily make out Blaine's prone form; his legs and arms convulsed against the asphalt, looking as though they were charged with an electrical current. Kurt dropped to the ground on his knees but dared not touch him.

A seizure. The thought flew through his mind so quickly he almost didn't catch hold of it. Absence, myoclonic, and tonic clonic. He knew he'd memorized the list once for a sophomore year health quiz—the general symptoms and where they fell on a severity scale; he'd gotten an A on that quiz with a shiny gold star sticker pressed onto the page beside his name. He burst into bitter, desperate tears as he wracked his brain for something he could do to help the boy he loved, but the only image that came to mind was that stupid sticker. He cried out Blaine's name pathetically over and over again.

Just as suddenly as it had begun, it stopped. Whatever invisible power held Blaine captive, contorting his body and possessing him so wholly, let go and left him limp and unconscious.

Kurt didn't hesitate; he pressed his ear to Blaine's mouth and burst into a fresh round of tears—this time for relief—when he felt the shaky, hot breath against his skin. He sat up and looked around them desperately for anyone that may have tried to brave the storm too. He could not leave Blaine alone; that much he was sure of. But as he scanned the space, his eyes burning with rain and tears, his heart sank—they were only a few yards from the very last row of cars, and the lot, save for them, was empty. He screamed out into the rain desperately, "Help us! Somebody, please, help us! Anybody, p-please, Oh God, please someone help me."

He dug in his pocket for his phone and dialed with shaky fingers before crushing it between his ear and shoulder; listening to the rings and willing someone to pick up faster. He pulled Blaine's body close to his and wrapped one protective arm tightly around his middle. He pressed his other hand to Blaine's face, cradling him into his own body as tightly as he dared. His eyes continued to scan the space—so near help yet so far— for any sign of another person. He murmured into Blaine's unhearing ear, his voice trembling, "I'm here, don't worry; I'm here."