The last time Kurt had the dream was the night after he and Rachel decided to move to New York. He had it whenever things were looking up in his life. It acted as a warning. All that went up had to fall down. The dream kept him grounded; reminding him that life wasn't always perfect. It reminded him of the things he'd lost and that not every day was full of laughter and happiness.

It always started the same; as a memory.

He was seated in the living room, debating with his father. "Come on, Dad," the teenager whined from the couch, "I really want to go with you guys. I can even help Mr. and Mr. Berry pick out Rachel's gift. Please."

Burt shook his head, completely unaffected by his son's pleas. "I don't think so, kiddo. Hiram, Leroy, and I already decided that we're going alone. You tagging along is a big, fat no go." Kurt huffed and crossed his arms across his chest. He was being childish, but he didn't care. He wanted to go shopping with his dad and the Berrys. That wasn't too much to ask in his opinion.

"Fine. Just go then. I'll just stay here in the big, cold, lonely house and watch television. I'll be fine." Burt chuckled and kissed his son on the forehead.

"You do that, kid. Why don't you call Rachel over? You guys could have a makeup party or whatever." Burt was trying, he really was. Sometimes, however, he took it to extremes. He often mistook Kurt's demeanor as a sign that he liked all things feminine and flamboyant. The teenager glared at his father. Whoops.

"Dad!" Kurt groaned. "I don't like make up. I'm still a-"

"I know, Kurt. I'm sorry. My mistake. Please forgive me. It won't happen again...." Burt squinted and tried to remember the rest of his apology. "Did I forget anything?"

"Yes, son, you can come shopping with us." Kurt supplied. Burt shook his head.

"Not a chance in Hell? How am I supposed to get your Christmas present if you're with me?"

"I already know what you're getting me, so it doesn't matter." Kurt shot his father a challenging look. He was getting the boots that he'd been asking for since September. He already knew. His father's internet browser history told him so.

Burt chuckled. "No I'm not. I'm not spending $300 on a pair of shoes for my teenager. With graduation in a few months and college coming up, I'm tapped out, kid. I'm getting you an iTunes card thing and a fruit cake." Burt held his arms out and offered his son a sarcastic, over enthusiastic smile. "Merry Christmas, son!"

Kurt rolled his eyes and slunk back on the couch. He was throwing in the towel. The only person he knew that was more hardheaded than himself, was his father. Burt Hummel was like a mountain range in the middle of a hurricane, he wouldn't budge. "Fine, Dad. I'll just stay here and wallow in my sadness. Maybe I'll call Rachel and make her feel self-conscious about her freakishly large reindeer sweater collection."

His father shook his head, not hiding the smirk on his face, as he often did when his son was about to go to battle verbally. While most people saw his son as weak, Burt knew that that was untrue. Kurt showed strength in other ways. Sometimes his bark was worse than his bite and that was enough to make even the biggest of bullies run for the hills. "Just don't make her cry. Okay, son?" Kurt nodded as he watched his father pull on his winter coat.

"I'll do my best." Kurt stood from the couch and walked towards his father. He fixed the collar on his jacket before allowing the man to pull him into a tight hug.

"That's all I ask." Burt planted a kiss in his son's hair before pulling back. "We'll be back in a few hours."

Kurt nodded. Maybe he would call Rachel over. "Love you, Dad."

Burt smiled just before walking out the front door. "Love you more, Kurt."

Kurt tossed and turned in the giant bed as the dream continued.

"You're not ugly, Rachel. Why do you insist on....." Kurt's frustration got the best of him. Rachel's clothes were awful. "I...you know I'm not into stereotypes but...you have two gay dads and I'm just....I'm so shocked that they let you walk out of the house in....that." He scrunched his nose as he motioned to the atrocity she was wearing.

"Say what you want, Kurt," Rachel shot him an uninterested look, "my dads appreciate the look."

Kurt scoffed. "Why because they know that it'll take one hell of a man to deflower all of that and guys in Ohio aren't up for the task?" His friend punched him in the shoulder despite trying her hardest to hold back her laughter. This was what they did. They settled into a back and forth game of wits. Their battle field was usually one of their two bedrooms and their weapon of choice was words.

"Like you're one to talk. The closest you've been to a deflowering is getting molested by Karofsky in the boy's locker room last year." Kurt tensed at her words. That was a low blow. Instantly, Rachel realized her mistake. "I'm sorry, Kurt. That wasn't funny. I...I....so your dad is getting you the boots?"

A smile spread across Kurt's face. With Rachel as his only real friend, he was willing to forgive her without a fight...this time. "He says he's not, but I know he is. I've already started mapping outfits to go with them."

His best friend nodded enthusiastically. She would never admit watching the spectacle that was Kurt choosing outfits, but she did. It was like watching a giant train wreck where nobody died and everything ended up okay. "I wish you didn't wear such big shoes. The boots are really cute and I'd love to-"

She was cut off by the sound of her friend's laughter. "You know what they say about guys with big feet right?" He chuckled. Just as Rachel was about to answer, the doorbell rang. Kurt crossed the room quickly and looked through the peephole. "It's....the police?" It was a question because he wasn't sure why they were at his doorstep.

"Open it. If you don't, they'll bust down the door. I saw it on Law and Order once." Kurt rolled his eyes and opened the door.

"Can I help you?" He asked with a smile on his face. It was obviously a mistake. They didn't mean to be at his door, they probably had the wrong address.

The officers looked at one another and then back to the boy. "We're looking for Kurt Hummel, does he live here?" One officer asked. Kurt smiled and pointed to himself. The larger officer, gave him a one over before nodding. "Ummm...okay. Kurt do you mind if we come inside. We'd like to speak with you."

The young man's eyebrows furrowed. He stepped aside regardless. What do they want with me? "I have company," he began as he closed the front door, "should I ask her to leave? Am I in trouble? I didn't do anything." His nerves got the best of him and he was starting to shake.

"You're not in trouble, Kurt. We just need to speak with you." The smaller officer replied. "Who is your friend?"

"A girl from my school. Rachel Berry." The officers looked at one another once again. They were having a conversation with their eyes. Kurt wasn't sure what the conversation was about but he knew it wasn't a good one.

Officer Hulk Hogan, the name Kurt gave to the larger man, smiled and asked Kurt to take him to Rachel. Kurt did as asked, leading the officer through the house to his friend. Rachel was just as shocked as her friend that the police wanted to speak with her. "We're going to let them speak and you and I are going to go into another room and speak. Is that okay, Kurt?" Hesitantly, Kurt nodded. Later once everything was said and done, he wished he hadn't nodded. He wished he'd said no and stayed with Rachel.

The smaller policeman, Officer Randall as he introduced himself, fidgeted on the couch as Kurt curled himself into his father's recliner. "Kurt, would you like to get something to drink before we start?" The young man shook his head. What he wanted to do was call his father and make him rush home so that he didn't have to speak to the officer alone. He didn't though. He was legally an adult, thus capable of speaking with the police alone. "Alright. Ummm..."

"Are you sure I'm not in trouble? I feel like you're just nervous to tell me. Like I did something that you know that I wouldn't have known I was doing wrong and you have to be the jerk that takes me to jail or whatever." Officer Randall shook his head at Kurt's ramblings. He wished it was that simple.

The officer scooted to the edge of the couch and looked Kurt in the eyes.It's the hardest part of my job."Kurt...I'm sorry." The high school senior felt his heartbeat quicken at the words. "There was....an accident....on 117 and....your dad...." Kurt couldn't hear anything else the officer said. His heart was beating so loudly in his ears that he couldn't function. The room, the house, and the officer disappeared.

Kurt was lost in a world of gray and shadows; only the sound of the beating of his heart offered any semblance to the real world.

And now at the dead hour of the night, amid the dreadful silence of that old house, so strange a noise as this excited me to uncontrollable terror. Yet, for some minutes longer I refrained and stood still. But the beating grew louder, louder! I thought the heart must burst.

The young man closed his eyes and willed the sound to stop. It was painfully loud. When he opened them again, he was on a highway. It was nearly abandoned, with the exception of Mr. Hiram's silver Mercedes. Quickly, Kurt ran towards the car, bare feet smacking the pavement as he jogged the distance.

He gasped as he looked inside the car. Usually, when Kurt looked into the car, he saw his father seated behind Mr. Leroy nodding his head to a tune that Kurt couldn't hear over the sound of his own heart. This time was different. Neither Hiram nor Leroy were in the front seat and Burt wasn't in the backseat. It was Blaine. He was laughing and smiling to himself in a way that made Kurt want to laugh and smile as well. "Blaine!" He shouted as he beat on the driver's side window. "Open the door, Blaine."

Kurt jiggled the handle in an attempt to open the door. It was locked. "Blaine!" After what felt like an eternity, Blaine finally looked at him, offering him a sweet smile; the same sweet smile that Kurt fell in love with. "Blaine! Open the door, you have to get out! Blaine!"

He received a wave in return. Just like his father, Blaine couldn't hear him.

"Blaine! Blaine!" Kurt shrieked as he rolled around the bed. "Open the door! Please!" In one motion, Kurt rolled over and out of bed. Luckily, the pillows that he knocked off the bed caught his fall, protecting him from the unforgiving hardwood floor. The dancer rubbed the back of his hand over his eyes and looked around the room. Blaine was nowhere in sight.

Quickly, the dancer threw on a pair of sweat pants and a t shirt –too small since he'd borrowed them from the pharmacist- and headed out of the room. The tiny house was a mess. Solo cups and empty bottles of alcohol lined every surface. "Blaine." He shouted as he strode through the house. The only response he received was the low hum of the refrigerator and the tick of the giant clock that hung in the living room.

Kurt made his way towards the front window to see if the pharmacist's car was there. As he neared the window, he noticed a piece of paper taped to the shade of a lamp.

B,

We were going to stick around and cheer you on but, the slow, sweet sounds of the bed creaking was the sound of sweet, passionate love making. We headed out. We put our numbers in your phone. Call us.

Warblers out!

Kurt smiled at the note -Blaine had great friends- before continuing his journey to the window. His heart sank when Blaine's Prius wasn't outside.Where is he?The dancer's mind raced as he darted up the stairs to grab his phone. He pulled up Blaine's number and pressed send.

"You've reached Blaine and Doo Wop, leave us a message."

With a growl, Kurt hung up and tried again.

"You've reached Blaine and Doo Wop, leave us a message."

"You've reached Blaine and Doo Wop, leave us a message."

"You've reached Blaine and Doo Wop, leave us a message."

Logic meant nothing when he'd woken up alone and without a way to reach the man that he gave everything to. Without hesitation, Kurt grabbed his clothes, leaving Blaine's sweats and shirt strewn around the house, and headed towards his truck.I just want to go home.

Blaine sat on his couch that night going over what Kurt said just before the dancer fell asleep. He wanted the words to be true, but he knew they weren't. Kurt wasn't going to give up everything to stay in Lima with him and Blaine wasn't going to ask him to. He knew what it felt like to give up everything for the man he loved.

Once upon a time, Blaine had dreams; real dreams. He wanted to be a teacher. He wanted to teach underprivileged children on the home front and abroad. He wanted to help and teach. He gave that up for Jeremiah though. His ex-husband was just as high maintenance as he was broke and he needed someone to take care of him. Blaine couldn't do that on an underprivileged teacher's salary. He needed to make more money for himself and, most importantly, for Jeremiah. So, he changed his major midway through his freshman year and never looked back. He didn't want that for Kurt.

He wanted Kurt to open his wings and soar out of Lima, out of Ohio, to a place that would welcome him with open arms. There was a stage, somewhere in New York that would open their arms for the dancer. Lima wouldn't offer that same hospitality. So, he wanted Kurt to go. He wanted his best friend to step out into a world that would love and accept him for who he was. Kurt deserved that after everything he'd been through.

Six A.M. rolled around and Blaine was still seated on the couch. He hated it. He felt like he couldn't think. As much as he wanted Kurt to go, he wanted him to stay. He wanted there to be a prospect for them in the future. He could easily imagine them sitting in the garden readingVogueand playing footsies under the table. He wanted that; needed that. More than slow games of footsies beneath the table and lazy nights of making love before cuddling up with the latest addition ofCountry Living,Blaine needed Kurt to be happy.I don't think he can do that here.

Think. That's what Blaine needed to do. As quietly as possible, he tip toed into his bedroom and pulled on jeans and a shirt. With one last yearning look towards Kurt, he walked out, closing the door behind him. "Doo Wop," he whispered, "where are you buddy?" The dog came trotting around the corner a moment later. "Hey, buddy. Are you up for a walk?" Doo Wop let out a loud bark, startling the pharmacist. "Shhh...we don't want to wake Kurt."

Blaine slid his feet into a pair of old sneakers and grabbed Doo Wop's leash and his car keys. A walk would do them both some good. His baby would get out of the house for a while and Blaine would have time to think.

Somehow, their walk led them to the pharmacy. It was a little after eight, so the store wasn't open yet. Quinn's car was there, however. Blaine quickly hopped out of the car, taking Doo Wop with him. Quinn could give him advice. Despite years of bad decisions, Quinn's suggestions and pieces of advice always led him in the right direction.

Blaine used his key to unlock the front doors. Once he'd stepped inside, he relocked the door and made a beeline for the pharmacy counter. "Quinn!" He shouted through the aisles. "It's Blaine. I need to talk."

Quinn popped seemingly out of nowhere. "Blaine. What are you doing here?" She asked as she made her way towards her station. "You don't work today." Despite her friend's presence, Quinn continued to work.

What he said next caused her to look up from her work and take in her friend's appearance. "I did something, Quinn." He stood awkwardly as his friend took in his appearance. She noticed his eyes first. They were red from crying or lack of sleep; possibly both. His hair was a jumbled mess of curls that looked like it hadn't seen a comb in days and his clothes were a wrinkled mess.

Quinn put down her work and made her way towards her friend. "Whatever it was, Blaine, it'll be okay."

"You don't get it!" He shouted, causing his dog to jump in his arms. "It's....I slept with Kurt."So what's the problem?Quinn knew Blaine liked the dancer. He wore his heart on his sleeve and was as open as a book. "It was beautiful. He just...let me have everything...literally."

"Okay? Did you not want to have sex with Kurt?"

"Of course I did. I want everything with Kurt and that's the problem." His hazel eyes swam in a sea of tears.

"So...?"

"I can't have everything with Kurt. He....I can't let him do what I did. I can't let him give up things to stay here with me. He said that, ya know. Right before he fell asleep last night, he said he wanted to stay here with me forever. I can't do that to him; not like Jeremiah did to me."

A proud smile spread across Quinn's face. Blaine was a far better man than his ex-husband could have dreamed of being. "So don't let him stay. Make him go."

"I want to but-" Quinn held up her hand, causing her friend's mouth to snap shut.

"And go with him. Even if you don't believe it, Blaine, you're bigger than Lima too." It was an option he hadn't considered. Well, that was a lie. He had considered it, but he assumed it was too soon to make snap decisions. His friend noticed the contemplative look on his friend and decided to speak up. "Listen, I know you're running through a million scenarios right now, but listen to me. Kurt really likes you. Santana and I have known for a while. Sometimes, when you two are talking, he has this look in his eyes that we've been trying to describe for months. It's like he's literally living on every word you say. I know it's only been like 13 hours but...13 hours or 13 years, you guys are made for each other. He's the Fran Fine to your Mr. Sheffield. From the first episode, you know they're supposed to be together."

Tears flowed down Blaine's face as the smile on his lips crept towards his eyes. Quinn was right. There was a spark between them that he refused to acknowledge in the beginning. His eyes were on the wrong prize back then. Things were different though. He was finally seeing the light at the end of the tunnel and it was beautiful. Sometimes it was blue with specks of green or gray. Other times it was gray or green with specks of blue. "What should I do?" He asked, expectantly. Quinn took him that far; she might as well lead him the rest of the way.

"Call him. Tell him you went out to grab coffee but you two need to talk. Tell him that you don't want him to stay in Lima but you're willing to go anywhere for him. Make sure he knows that. Kurt's lost before, so he's going to be hesitant. He'll probably be scared that you're not serious or that you two will fall apart. Don't let him believe that for a second. Make sure he knows that you care...that you love him."

Love; so complicated, yet so simple. Four letters that could make or break an entire country. Four letters that broke and made Blaine Anderson. He'd loved and lost, swearing to never love again. Then, a beautiful man lap danced his way into the pharmacist's heart. From the moment Kalvin Climbs put the microphone to his lips, Blaine knew he was a goner. The rest was history.

Blaine dug around in his pocket for his phone. Quinn was right, he needed to call Kurt. Unfortunately, he wouldn't be calling Kurt anytime soon. "Shit. My battery is dead."

"Well, go get coffee anyways and then head home. It's not like he'll think you ditched him. It's your house after all. No one runs away from their own house." If only they knew how wrong they were.

"...and I tried to call him, Rachel but...his phone was off or he wasn't answering. I don't know. I went looking for his car around town, but then I felt crazy and went home. I....I can't stay here. First my dad and now...I gave him everything Rachel. I...just..." Kurt did his best to calm his nerves. He had a show in less than an hour but his head was elsewhere. He and Blaine hadn't been in contact all day and it hurt. His first time wasn't supposed to be with a guy that wouldn't be there in the morning. It was supposed to be with a guy that would hold him through his nightmares and kiss him before they'd had a chance to brush their teeth. He thought Blaine was that guy. He was obviously wrong and that made him angry. Life wasn't supposed to hurt that much.It's not fair.

On top of his hurt and anger, Rachel was irritating him. It was the perfect combination for a stage disaster. "I told you not to get too close to him. You saw how I did things. I kind of liked Quinn but I kept her at bay. Now I'm in New York and you're still in Lima. You need to get on the next thing smoking and forget about Blaine. There will be millions of guys, way better than Blaine once you get to New York. Leave Ohio in Ohio."

Kurt wanted his friend to be right. He wanted to believe that there would be guys in New York that made Blaine look like the world's biggest jerk. He couldn't though. Despite his feelings towards the man in that moment, he felt like there wasn't a guy on Earth that would ever compare to Blaine; the same Blaine that let him down. "I don't want to wait another month to come out there, Rachel. I bought a train ticket yesterday. I'll be there Sunday morning."

His friend squealed into the phone. "Great. Our apartment is all set up; it's just waiting for you to decorate it. I've also been scoping out possible schools and places for us to work. This is going to be great."

"Yeah." The old friends said their goodbyes and Kurt continued to get ready for his show. He'd already advised Will and the rest of group that he was leaving and that he wouldn't return. While they were all sad to see him leave, they were excited to see him go. Everyone knew that Kurt and Rachel belonged in the Big Apple.Just one more show and I'm gone. I won't have to see Blaine again and I'll be done with this town.

Blaine found himself with a front row seat at the club that night. He was sorely disappointed when he got home with two cups of coffee to find that he had no one to share them with. He was even more disappointed when he tried to get in touch with Kurt but found that he was unable to. Kurt was harder to track down than a C.I.A. agent.

So, after hours of searching, he decided to try the club. He spoke with a few waitresses on the way in, who told him Kurt was working a six o clock show. So, Blaine ordered a drink and made himself comfortable in the front row. He had two hours to kill until Kurt danced but it was worth the wait.

"I want everyone in the room to get on their feet for Kalvin Climbs." The MC shouted into his microphone. Blaine, along with the rest of the room, stood in anticipation for the young dancer. "Tonight will be his last night with us, so make him feel loved."What? Last night? What the hell?

Blaine's mind went haywire as he tried to make sense of the announcement.Kurt wouldn't just up and leave. Maybe I'm thinking too much into this. Maybe he is just leaving the club. He wouldn't up and leave Lima without telling me. Right?

He didn't have time to come to an actual conclusion because the music was starting. Along with the rest of the room, Blaine took his seat and watched the stage eagerly. He and Kurt could discuss it after the show.

It's all the same, only the names will change
Every day it seems we're wasting away
Another place where the faces are so cold
I'd drive all night just to get back home

Blaine watched eagerly as Kurt made his entrance. Lovely as ever, Kurt slid down the brass pole, spinning as he went. The only clothing he wore was a tiny pair of black briefs, leaving nothing to the imagination. When the pharmacist studied his friend's face, he noticed the cold look of determination spread across it. Something was wrong; very wrong. Kurt was a naturally determined individual, but he only wore that look when he was fighting his emotions. It was as if he was determined not to let them show.

Kurt spun around the pole a few times before letting go and swaying to the beat of the song. He looked magnificent. While the playful glint was gone from his eyes, the teasing nature of the dancer's personality remained.

Sometimes I sleep, sometimes it's not for days
And the people I meet always go their separate ways
Sometimes you tell the day
By the bottle that you drink
And times when you're alone all you do is think

The lights of the stage danced across Kurt's body as he strutted around, dancing for various groups of customers. Each shoved dollar bills at him, practically begging for the young man to stay. No one wanted Kurt to leave.

As he shimmied his way through various customers, he smiled and offered his apologies. Blaine knew he wasn't sorry. Who would be sorry about leaving Ohio?I won't be. Not if I get to be with Kurt in New York.

I'm a cowboy, on a steel horse I ride
I'm wanted dead or alive
Wanted dead or alive

The dancer worked his way across the front row, taking money and breaking hearts as he went. With every roll of his hips and dance of his belly, he received a plea not to leave. He was going, though. He couldn't stay any longer. Just a few more tables to go.

The dancer crawled towards the second to last table, rolling his hips towards the ground and sending the men and women at the table into a frenzy. "Don't go. You're amazing." Kurt smiled at them and then took their cash. In the end, the club was only about the money he made there. He wasn't in it to make friends –he'd made that mistake before- and he wasn't there to make fans. They weren't the kind of fans he wanted in the long run. The dancer offered them a simple shrug and continued towards his last table. Once he had their money, he would be scott free.

I walk these streets, a loaded six string on my back
I play for keeps, 'cause I might not make it back
I been everywhere, and I'm standing tall
I've seen a million faces an I've rocked them all

The moment Kurt noticed the lone man sitting at the table, his body stilled. It was Blaine. Kurt felt like he couldn't breathe. Slowly, the music began to fade away and, just like in the dream, he could only hear the sound of his heart beating.

But the beating grew louder, louder! I thought the heart must burst.

Holding his ears to stop the sound, Kurt dashed off stage. He didn't want to see Blaine. He wanted to leave and never look back. Blaine was the one that hadn't stuck around in the morning and hadn't called later in the day.You matter, son. He didn't. For the first time, Kurt felt like his father was wrong. Nothing mattered. He didn't matter. The love that he was willing to share didn't matter. Nothing mattered and everything hurt.

Kurt dashed to his nearly empty vanity and grabbed his clothes. He quickly pulled on his shirt and pants before heading towards the rear exit. He was done.

Blaine ran out shortly after Kurt left the stage. The audience was in an uproar and the building was a madhouse of shouting and confusion. Kurt had run off stage after seeing him. If that didn't hurt, he didn't know what did. The pharmacist made his way around the rear door –the one Kurt always left through- and waited. His wait didn't last long. Moment later, Kurt came barreling through the door with a giant gym bag hoisted over his shoulder. "Kurt!" The pharmacist shouted.

The dancer closed his eyes and willed the voice to go away. It was the voice that matched the eyes that he saw staring at him in the audience. It was Blaine. It'll always be Blaine. Ignoring the shout, Kurt made his way towards his truck. It was his last day with the vehicle. One of his father's old employees offered to buy the truck if for nothing than sentimental value. Kurt readily agreed and he was set to drop it off first thing in the morning. "Kurt!"

The second shout caught his attention. It was needy and pleading. Against his better judgment, Kurt turned towards the noise. He sighed when he saw the elder running in his direction. "What?" He hissed. He spent all day trying to find Blaine so they could talk and, hours later, Blaine had decided that he was ready. That did not please the younger man.

Blaine didn't speak until he was standing in front of his friend; his lover. "I...you...." The words were jumbled in his head. He knew what he wanted to say, but he couldn't seem to find a way to say it.

"I...you..." Kurt mocked harshly. "I what, Blaine? I waited for you this morning. I sat in your bed and waited for you to come back? Then, I drove around town looking for you like a scorned lover. I cried all afternoon because you wouldn't return my calls. Then, once I've got myself together and I'm ready to accept that you didn't care enough to leave a note or try to contact me, you show up here and decide it's time to talk. Guess what, it's too late. I'm done."

"No...no...just..." If there was ever a time that Blaine needed to be heard, it was then. He'd spent years letting others talk while he listened, but he needed to be heard. If he wasn't, then he would lose Kurt before they had a chance. "Just stop talking. I need to say this."

Kurt reeled back. "You stop talking." He shot back childishly as he pressed a firm finger into Blaine's chest. "You don't get to dictate how this conversation will go. I listened for all those months about how you still loved your ex and how you wanted him back. When I spoke up, you refused to listen to my side of things. So, now you're going to listen while I talk."

"You...you're such a good guy. That's why it was so hard for me to understand why I ended up in your bed alone this morning. Then, I got it." Kurt visibly deflated as he spoke. "You didn't leave because you're not a good guy; you left because I wasn't worth sticking around for, at least not in your eyes. So, I'm going to go. I'm going to pack my things and go to New York. Maybe there I'll find a guy that thinks I'm worth sticking around for."

"No...please don't. Just listen, Kurt." Blaine was begging; pleading. If Kurt would just stop talking, the pharmacist could tell him just how wrong he was. Kurt didn't stop talking though. Most times, Blaine found the brunette's ramblings to be endearing; this was not one of those times.

"I told you I'm done listening. Oh and.." Kurt stopped long enough to pull a piece of paper out of his pocket, "...here's your check back from Christmas. I don't need your money." The dancer crumbled the check in his hand and tossed it on the ground. Before Blaine could speak again, Kurt was jogging towards his car and hopping in.

"But you are good enough to stick around for." The pharmacist whispered as he picked up the crumpled check. Moments later, Kurt's truck screeched out of the parking lot and in the direction of his house, leaving Blaine alone with the crumpled paper that matched his crumpled heart.