Day 067: Thursday 22nd November, 2012
Lost and Found (Kansas)

"We already had Elizabethtown, remember?"

"Oh, right. Umm... Mars Attacks?"

"Now we're talking."



"Blaine!" Kurt called at the top of his voice. It echoed all around him in the stillness of the night, and after shrugging his arms against his sides, he adjusted his backpack and carried on walking, taking left after left after left.

Even with the comforting twinkle of the stars above him and his flashlight in hand, the darkness inside the maze remained oppressive.

"'Let's turn off here,' he said. 'It's a maze; it'll totally be fun,' he said," Kurt grumbled aloud, shaking his flashlight when it flickered. This had all the potential of a grisly horror movie: two very much non-virginal boys lost in a maze in the middle of nowhere, separated because one of them had insisted on racing to the middle for their Thanksgiving picnic.

Why they couldn't have had it inside the R.V.—where it was warm, and more importantly, safe—Kurt didn't know. What he did know was that he had been mostly powerless to resist those goddamn puppy eyes of Blaine's, even when he was slowly but surely resigning himself to the inevitable end of what they had. It was the beginning of a long, painfully drawn-out goodbye; they would always be best friends, of course, there was no doubting that. Blaine was his air. But Blaine had the prospect of a new life waiting for him, now, and Kurt had no right to hold him back from it. He loved Blaine, and as much as the thought left him cold, he had to let him go.

Just as he reached another dead end, his flashlight flickered a few times and sputtered out. Kurt swore under his breath and switched to the miniature flashlight he kept on his keys.

It was too quiet so deep in the maze. Kurt stopped where he stood to weigh listening to his iPod against being able to hear if Blaine called for him; as he moved to take off his backpack, his phone started to ring in his pocket, The Dandy Warhols' Bohemian Like You blaring at top volume.

When he saw Dad (Home) emblazoned across the screen, he immediately answered.

"Hey, little brother!" Finn's voice greeted him brightly, his infectious happiness making Kurt smile every bit as much as if he'd just been wrapped up in one of Finn's bone-crushing bear hugs. There were in fact only a few months between them, but having been an only child for most of his life like Kurt, Finn took his role in their new family seriously. "Happy Thanksgiving!"

"Happy Thanksgiving, Finn," Kurt said, inhaling deeply and imagining that he could detect faint scents of laundry detergent and American Crew hair wax on the night air. "Where are Dad and Carole?"

"Walking off dinner," Finn said incredulously. "I mean, I've got a total food coma situation going on right now, and they're like, old. You know? I don't know how they do it."

"Ha, and how many helpings did you have compared to them?" Kurt asked.

"Everyone had seconds," came the answer, followed by a long pause. "Okay, I had, like, two more helpings after that. But it's Thanksgiving! Isn't eating crap tons of food the whole point?"

Kurt shook his head, grinning to himself, and sat down on the ground, taking off his backpack and leaning against the hedge wall. If he kept walking without paying attention to where he was going, he'd only end up more lost than he already was. "So how are things, how's grad school so far?"

"Really great," Finn began. "The new classes are awesome; I feel like I'm really getting a handle on things that I wanna be teaching, you know? And I've found a couple of kids to tutor, so I'm doing that on weekends—that's how I got the money to fly home."

"That's fantastic, Finn. I'm so proud of you."

"And I, uh... I met this girl..."

Kurt sat bolt upright. A girl? This was big news. After Finn's epically awful break-up with Quinn Fabray during sophomore year, he'd flitted between a few girls without any of them ever sticking more than a couple of months at most. He'd stopped even mentioning girls at all.

Carefully, he said, "Go on."

"So we had an assignment in class to go watch a musical, right? And there was this touring show that came to town, West Side Story. So a bunch of us from my class decided to go see that instead of just renting one on Netflix, and like, it was great and everything, but..." Finn trailed off with a sigh that didn't sound a single bit weary. "It was after the show. Stacey and Nola wanted to do the whole stage door thing because they were, like, drooling all over the guy who played Tony, and we weren't exactly in the nicest part of town, so I went back there with them.

"Anyway, so we were the first ones there and we waited forever, and then the girl who played Maria—Rachel's her name, Rachel Berry," Finn continued, speaking the girl's name with a kind of reverence Kurt hadn't heard since Quinn, "she came out, and she's just... God, Kurt, she's beautiful. She's tiny—shorter than Blaine—and she's just crazy talented, and there was this moment where we looked at each other and I just... Felt it."

There was a long pause, and Kurt realized that his fingers were clenched too tightly around the strap of his backpack. "What happened next?!" he prompted breathlessly.

"Well, we talked a little but it was super awkward because at first she thought Stacey was my girlfriend—which, dude—and then when she figured out the reason I really wasn't mad that Stacey was drooling over Tony, she wrote her number on my playbill thing," Finn said. "But she was only in town for that one night, so I decided to call her right away and... She came over and we got that insane Super Taco pizza from Sarpino's that I told you about, and we stayed up 'til sunrise just talking."

"Oh my god, Finn," Kurt breathed, his throat feeling tight. He'd never heard Finn talk about any girl like this, much less after just one night. "So... If she's touring, how are you guys gonna work it?"

"Her tour finishes up just after Christmas, so she's gonna come stay for a couple weeks and we'll see how it goes then. But right now we're talking or texting most days, and it's just... She's really, really awesome."

"Oh my god," Kurt repeated, slumping back against the hedge. "Finn, I'm just... I'm really happy for you."

"Thanks, Kurt," Finn said softly. After a moment, he asked, "So what's up with you guys? Burt showed me the GPS thingy earlier—you guys are in Kansas?"

Kurt let out a huff of humorless laughter and scratched at the side of his neck as he glanced around. "I'm currently sitting in the middle of a maze somewhere outside Wichita, because B decided it would be great to spend Thanksgiving lost, cold, and hungry."

"Wait, since when are you calling him 'B' again? You haven't called him that since you had that crush on him senior year."

"How did you know about that?" Kurt blurted before he could think to refute it. He could have kicked himself.

"Dude, everyone knew," Finn told him. "Puck and I had a bet going as to how long it'd take Blaine to figure it out, and he's still winning."

"I... I don't know, a few weeks maybe?" Kurt replied dazedly, memories rushing to the surface of mooning around after Blaine like the love-struck teenager that he was, right before Brad—his first boyfriend—had shown up. His face was on fire.

There was a pregnant pause, during which he heard Finn taking a deep, measured breath. "Are you guys, like—"

"Finn, trust me, you don't want to know," Kurt cut him off. It was safer to just nip that conversation in the bud. Changing the subject, he asked, "Will Dad and Carole be back soon?"

A moment of awkward silence passed; Kurt knew that Finn wanted to ask more—he could never stand to be left in the dark if something was going on—but was glad that, at least for now, he seemed to think better of it.

"Yeah—actually, they just walked in," Finn finally said, and there were a few seconds of static as he covered the mouthpiece to speak to their parents. When he came back, he said, "I miss you, little brother. Happy Thanksgiving."

"You too, Finn."

"Just... It's okay to be happy, you know? If that's what you've got right now then you should hold onto it."

"What? Finn, what's that suppo—"

"Kurt?"

One word from his dad, and Kurt felt himself relaxing. The light edge of panic he'd barely even noticed creeping up on him faded back into the shadows, and Kurt smiled. "Hi, Dad. Happy Thanksgiving."

"You too," Burt said. Kurt let out a chuckle when he heard Carole calling a happy Thanksgiving in the background, and returned the sentiment. "What're you boys up to?"

"I was just telling Finn that I'm sitting in a maze somewhere near Wichita, because Blaine thought it'd be fun to make me work for my food," Kurt said succinctly, and Burt's ensuing chuckle made him feel a little warmer.

"Singin' for your supper, huh? I hear that's a thing you do, now."

"You—who told you that?"

"Blaine's mom and I do talk, you know."

Kurt's heart leapt into his throat, and he swallowed thickly. "She told you about the singing," he said.

"Yep. She told me something else interesting, too," Burt prompted. Kurt knew that his father was a patient man, but that he was expecting an answer to the question he didn't even need to ask.

"What exactly did she say about—about me and Blaine?" Kurt asked glumly, not the least bit surprised that Alice knew. Blaine spoke to her at least once a week.

"Nothin' much. Just that you two are 'seeing how things go,' whatever that means," Burt said. "Kurt, why wouldn't you tell me something like this? I thought we could talk about this stuff."

"We can, Dad, it's just..." Kurt trailed off. Where do I even begin? "I'm so confused."

"Confused about what? About Blaine? Kid, you gotta know he's nuts about you. Has been ever since you guys were in bow ties."

"He still wears bow ties."

"You know what I mean," Burt said firmly, adding, "And I know you're nuts about him, too."

"That's the whole problem, Dad!" Kurt exclaimed, jumping to his feet and starting to pace back and forth. "I'm in—I really care about him."

"I'm not exactly seeing a problem, Kurt," Burt said. "We all know you've been in love with him for years."

"But I didn't know! I didn't know. And it's just... It's terrifying," he said, scrubbing his free hand through his hair and down his face. There was a torrent of fear rising inside him like a tidal wave, and for once, he couldn't help but let it out. "What if—what if we get back to Maine and he finds someone else, or what if he wants to go back to London, or what if he decides he wants to join April's new band and he moves to New York and I'm just left behind again? What then, Dad?"

"Kurt, I'm only gonna say this once, so listen," his dad said, voice low and controlled.

He took a deep breath, bracing himself. "Okay."

"Get your head out of your ass."

"Dad!"

"I'm serious. So what if he wants to go to London or New York or, Jesus, even Guam? What you guys have is special, and it's rare. Don't let it go to waste before you even give it a chance."

Kurt knew that his dad's words were meant to comfort him, energize him into doing something proactive about his situation, but they only made him feel worse. It wasn't as simple as just letting himself 'not waste it'—he needed to save something for himself, because what if he took the leap only to find out that there was no net waiting to break his fall? What if he let his heart be cradled in such nomadic hands only to find that it was stolen away from him completely and he wound up left with nothing?

"I don't know if it's that simple," he finally said, his voice much smaller than he wanted it to be.

"Because you won't let yourself see the end of the movie," Burt said heavily. "You're just making the most of the scene you've got in front of you."

That's all I know how to do, Kurt thought, remaining silent.

"Just think about it, okay?"

"Okay, Dad."

"You promise?"

Kurt nodded, feeling oddly like he'd just been hit with a sucker punch to the gut, and said, "I promise."

"Okay, then," Burt said, seemingly satisfied. "And you boys are okay otherwise, you're having fun?"

"Well, I'm not having a lot of fun right now, what with the maze and all," Kurt joked, gesturing around himself despite his father being nearly two thousand miles away. "But otherwise, yes. We're doing great."

"Glad to hear it. Now go kick his ass," Burt said. "No one keeps Hummel men from their food, especially not on Thanksgiving."

"Will do, Dad," Kurt said around a laugh. "I love you."

"You love Blaine, too."

"Oh my god. Are you five?"

"Well?" Burt prompted.

"Yes, Dad. I love Blaine, too," Kurt finally admitted. "And... And thanks."

"Anytime, kiddo. You know that. Love you."

As Kurt ended the call, feeling oddly comforted yet more confused than ever, he noticed a string of text messages in his notifications bar, along with an email alert.

Blaine (8:01pm) – I just realized I haven't kissed you all day. It's driving me crazy.
Blaine (8:04pm) – Are you mad at me? You're mad at me. Come let me make it up to you?
Blaine (8:10pm) – Where are you?
Blaine (8:12pm) – Oh god, are you lost? This was a bad idea, wasn't it?
Blaine (8:19pm) – Sweetheart?

In spite of everything, Kurt's stomach twisted pleasantly. He smiled a little, and resolved to get moving again once he'd read the email.

It turned out to be another of those pesky anonymous messages signed by the mysterious 'F,' a response to his brief video post from earlier in the day wishing a happy Thanksgiving to his ever-increasing number of followers. It contained a YouTube link, but just as he moved to tap it open, something grabbed him around the waist and knocked him sideways.

He shrieked and struggled as he hit the ground, panicking and lashing out as much as he could, but within moments he realized that it was Blaine pinning him down with an impish grin.

"Asshole," he spat as the anxiety subsided, pushing Blaine off him and staggering to his feet.

"Just came to see what was taking you so long," Blaine said, slinging Kurt's backpack over one shoulder as Kurt brushed himself off.

"We're in a fucking maze and I got fucking lost," Kurt retorted, and tugged his jacket straight with a huff.

Undeterred, Blaine simply took Kurt's hand and led him out of the dead end. As they made two more left turns and then a right, Blaine almost jogging in his apparent eagerness, Kurt sent up a silent thank you that, even in the bleakest of places, Blaine always managed to find him.

The picnic Blaine had set up was a sight that took Kurt's breath away. He'd laid out two blankets in an artful, overlapping diamond formation, at the center of which was the brown paper bag of groceries they'd gotten from the Whole Foods in Oklahoma City. Next to it was a small stack of plates and cups, along with a bottle of hard cider. The picturesque setting was surrounded by tiny votive candles, set at intervals around the perimeter of the square.

"So am I off the hook?" Blaine murmured, squeezing Kurt's hand as he took it all in.

"I—how did you have time to do all this?" Kurt asked, swallowing the declaration of love that rose in the back of his throat, clamoring to get out like a new butterfly struggling to emerge from a cocoon.

"Well, uh... I sort of—looked at the maze on Google Earth..."

"You planned this? For me?"

Blaine shrugged, absently scratching at the back of his neck. "I figured since we can't spend Thanksgiving with our families—"

Kurt cut him off with a swift kiss, whispering against his lips, "You're my family."

Blaine shifted on his feet, shooting him an uncharacteristically shy, bitten-lipped smile and gesturing toward the picnic. "Shall we?"

When they were seated, Kurt between Blaine's legs and Blaine's arms around his waist, he pulled the grocery bag closer and found that Blaine had already made up the turkey and cranberry sandwiches Kurt had suggested that morning. He passed one back to Blaine, and carefully unwrapped his own to take a bite.

"Oh my god, these are perfect," he got out around a moan, the cranberry bursting sweet and sharp across his tongue and bringing out the flavor of the turkey.

"They are pretty good, even if I do say so myself," Blaine agreed.

"Oh, hey—music?" Kurt asked, the thought suddenly occurring to him that he'd never followed F's latest YouTube link. Setting down his sandwich for a moment and retrieving his phone, he held it down and out of Blaine's sight to tap the link, murmuring, "Marcie sent me a link to something. Brace yourself in case it's awful."

But it was far from awful—a soft, acoustic song with a gently uplifting intro that made a sense of fleeting contentedness settle over Kurt like a warm blanket.

"I know this song!" Blaine said brightly, swaying a little from side to side.

Kurt cleared his throat. "Sing it for me?"

"In the morning when I wake, and the sun is coming through," Blaine began, "Oh, you fill my lungs with sweetness, and you fill my head with you."

The song was about a love not yet cast in iron and left to cool, about words unspoken and truths unconfessed; Kurt knew exactly why F, whoever they were, had chosen to send it his way. The nudging from all sides was growing unbearable, the repeated instruction one that he couldn't bring himself to follow under the weight of his own fear.

Instead, everything feeling the bittersweet side of too right, he picked up the chorus and ooh'd his way through in a harmony to complement Blaine's smooth tenor. They sounded good together.

When the song's last bars faded and they were left in the silence of night, candles flickering at the base of the hedge walls and casting them in a cage of shadows, Kurt twisted in Blaine's arms and kissed the corner of his mouth.

"Happy Thanksgiving, sweetheart," Blaine said softly.

"Happy Thanksgiving, B."



Distance: 8,848 miles