Are you okay?

Kurt had read over the same text five times before sending it, and now he’s hastily checking his phone every few seconds, the screen showing up no reply.

He waits for another minute, sends another text.

It’s just that you left pretty fast.

Another minute passes.

Blaine, what’s going on?

Kurt drops his phone onto his chest, slow-leans backwards into his computer chair before he hears the beep of a reply.

I’m okay, I promise.

A moment passes, another text.

But we need to talk.

Kurt gulps, hands shaking-but-determined as he picks up his phone and hits Call.

It takes Blaine a solid minute to pick up, and Kurt knows he’s close enough to his phone to answer more quickly, and there’s a horrid, gnawing feeling in his stomach and his veins that he refuses to acknowledge.

“You want to talk?” Kurt says, more snappily than he intended, the second Blaine picks up. “Then talk to me.”

“Kurt – Kurt-” Blaine cuts off, and Kurt thinks he can hear the distant, underwater-unclear sound of crying, “can you come over?”

“Didn’t you just leave?”

“I know, I know, it’s stupid – god, I’m so stupid-”

“-hey, hey,” Kurt interrupts, voice growing softer, “you’re not stupid.”

A moment passes.

“I’ll be there in a minute, okay?”

All Kurt can hear is ragged, tear-soaked breathing.

“Okay.”

*

When Blaine opens the door, he looks a mess; hair stress-rumpled, face shining-wet, and his eyes glinting like – well, like Blaine’s seeing Kurt for the first and last time all at once.

“Hey,” Kurt half-laughs, cautious, and Blaine doesn’t speak, moves to the side so Kurt can move inside.

“What’s going on?”

Blaine sits down on his lounge, and Kurt wordlessly sits next to him.

“Your dad talked to me,” Blaine starts, nasally hopeless.

“Oh?” Kurt feels the worry grow a little larger.

Blaine pauses. “After what happened with Sebastian, it’s not – I don’t think-”

And then, suddenly, the realization of what Blaine’s about to say hits Kurt, like the first drop of rain before a disastrous thunderstorm.

“-Don’t you dare start that with me, Blaine,” Kurt snaps, everything falling into place far too fast. “He already tried that with me, before you came over, before he even considered meeting you-”

“-don’t berate me, Kurt,” Blaine says, frustratingly calm, “I know what I’m doing-”

“-and so do I!” Kurt stands up from the lounge, faces Blaine. “I love you! I want to be with you because I love you, can’t you see that?”

Blaine huffs a laugh under his breath, and Kurt freezes. “Why are you laughing?”

When Blaine looks up to meet his eyes, he looks sadder than Kurt’s ever seen him.

“Because you’re lying, and it’s easier to laugh about it than it is to actually think about it,” he says, quiet, but the room is so quiet that it’s the loudest thing Kurt’s ever heard.

“What am I lying about?” Kurt can feel his voice, himself getting harsher and harsher.

Blaine scoffs. “You don’t love me-”

“-of course I-”

“-you love Sebastian, Kurt,” Blaine says, voice tearful-strained, “and even if you don’t, you did, for so long. You can’t stop loving someone that quickly, Kurt. You need time, and space,” Blaine’s voice cracks, “and the absolute last thing that you need-”

“-don’t-”

“-is a relationship.” Blaine says, forcing it out, stumbling over the finish line, panting for breath.

“Why?” Kurt asks, eyes watering, not letting himself blink too much. “It’s my life, my emotions, why don’t I get to choose?”

“I’m sorry-”

“-why are you doing this?” Kurt sobs, suddenly, chest heaving  and too-heavy, and then Blaine’s chest wants to heave too, and all Blaine wants to do is stop the tears, hold Kurt to his ribcage and tell him that they’ll be happy and perfect but he can’t.

“Because you need-”

“I need you, Blaine, more than I need space or time or anything else,” Kurt’s face is a rainstorm, “and I really thought you got that.”

Blaine pauses, considering, wants to throw up. “You don’t need me, Kurt.”

A moment passes.

He breathes, tries to keep his voice from wavering. “You need love.”

Kurt tenses up, and Blaine can feel Kurt’s stress in his bones.

“I can’t give you that-”

“-are you saying you don’t love me?” Kurt says, too-quiet, small, a surrender in a question.

Kill me oh god just fucking drop me off a cliff and shoot me now let me die let me die i hate myselfgodfuckkillme-

“Yes.”

A pin drops, and then Kurt shakes his head, opens his mouth, closes his mouth, sobs, and walks out the door.

Blaine counts to ten, lets himself drop to the floor, lets the anger and the misery and the shock surge through him, and just sobs.

*

Sebastian feels electric.

The ice creature has grown far bigger than Sebastian ever expected – it’s head reaches Sebastian’s hipbone when he stands, and it’s teeth are as big and sharp as frozen syringes – and while he does find it slightly intimidating at times, it hasn’t so much as touched him without him initiating the contact. He bends down, now, lets his fingers ice-slide against the side of its head. It never feels cold to him, and neither does anything that’s supposed to be cold, and he can’t make sense of it. He can’t make sense of any of it.

So.

Sebastian freezes; he’s not exactly scared of the voice, not anymore, but it’s still more than a little unnerving to have another entity in your head. Or to be going insane.

…so.

Sebastian sits on the ground, crosses his legs underneath him – he’s been sitting in the bakery (a mess of ice and metal and flour) ever since Blaine left, since the attack from the invisible, too-tight hands that rendered him weaker than he liked to acknowledge.

We’ve been here for a while.

Sebastian grimaces internally – this is one of the reasons why he isn’t scared of the voice.

And?

It annoys him, more than he thought it could.

We have powers.

Sebastian doesn’t respond.

Aren’t you going to do something?

Like what?

Get what you want, maybe?

And then Sebastian can feel the cold again, can feel chills stuttering and sliding down his spine like fingertips made from ice, but he’s still not exactly scared. He knows he should be, but he’s not.

I don’t know what I want.

You do.

Scoff.

What do I want?

You want what’s yours, Sebastian. Ours.

It takes a second for everything to snap into place, like the first strike of lightning before a thunderstorm.

Kurt.

And then Sebastian’s laughing, laughing so hysterically because it’ll be so easy, god, how didn’t he see it before? He can make Kurt see it, he knows he can, they can.

He is Kurt’s, and Kurt is his.

Kurt will see.