“You’re sure you don’t need anything, sweetheart? We can fly home if you need us there.”

Blaine hops up onto his bed, nestling the phone between shoulder and neck and trying not to sigh out loud.

“I’m sure, mother. I’ll be fine, I promise.”

He can feel his mother’s hesitation on the other end of the line, then:

“Okay, sweetie. You make sure you call us the second you need anything.”

Blaine hears shuffling in the background, muffled yelling from a male voice. His father.

“-yes Will, I’m coming! I’ll call you tomorrow night, dear.”

“Okay. I love y-”

The dial tone sounds.

Blaine throws his phone at the wall.

*

Kurt Hummel paces his room, stopping every few seconds and glaring at his phone – riddled with apology messages from Sebastian, begging for his forgiveness or kindness or bail money. Sebastian had been in custody since last night, and Kurt didn’t want anything to do with him whether he was incarcerated or not.

God, how could I be so blind?

He was just using me.

He doesn’t care, so neither do I.

Kurt sighs, looks back at his phone.

Were the flowers too much?

He picks it up, dials Blaine’s number and prays for an answer.

Please, be okay.

*

Blaine’s about two steps away from throwing his phone out the window when the shrill, slightly startling sound of his ringtone erupts through the room. Blaine scrambles to answer it because he knows Tina and Mike have Asian Camp training right now, so that leaves-

“Kurt?”

A sigh of relief whooshes through the receiver, and Blaine smiles a little.

“Oh, thank god you’re okay – I was worried sick.”

Blaine’s heart skips a beat.

“You were worried…about me?”

He can almost feel Kurt’s insistence from the other end.

“Of course I was worried. You were bleeding everywhere and screaming and choking on air and-“

Kurt huffs in a teary breath. He sounds slightly nauseated.

“I’m just glad you’re okay, Blaine, I really am.”

Blaine’s blood rushes a little faster.

“Well, I’m…glad you called, Kurt.”

“Will you be back at school soon? Well, once everything has healed up, of course.”

Blaine freezes.

“Uh…yeah! Sure, yeah.”

“Great! I’ll see you soon, then, I guess.”

Sooner than you think.

“Okay!”

“Bye, Blaine. Get well soon!”

The dial tone sounds and for once, Blaine doesn’t feel like punching anything.

He still waits for Kurt to get home, safe and sound, before he lets himself get to sleep.

*

Blaine can hear birdsong and chiming, the chatter of people; the feel in the air is almost electric. Everything around him looks surreal – the white flowers weaved through the arch above his head, the golden-glowing tent before him, the silkeny-smooth feeling of his own outfit, a tuxedo with red-

Oh.

He’s at a wedding.

Blaine can recognize a few faces – there’s Mike and Tina, who whoosh a congratulations at him in colour-coordinated suit and dress. Santana, who simply winks at him as she rushes past, calls out to her girlfriend.

And-

“Blaine! Honey, why aren’t you in the tent?” Kurt says, eyes hitchhiking over Blaine’s appearance as his agitated, fake smile melts into something oddly familiar.

“You look perfect.”

Blaine doesn’t mean to say it, doesn’t even know the words were in his mouth but Kurt stutters a little and wrings his hands together like he’s trying to knead dough so it’s worth it.

“So do you.” It’s earnest and slightly breathy and almost a sigh instead of a sentence.

They awkwardly part ways and next thing Blaine knows he’s standing at the altar, waiting for Kurt to arrive so they can marry whoever needs to be married.

The music starts, and Blaine’s about to protest when Mike nudges him towards the middle with his elbow and the crowd rises to face the door and everything clicks together at once.

Kurt’s walking through, hair perfectly coiffed and eyes brighter than a Christmas tree as people offer congratulations and just smile at him, but Kurt can’t stop looking towards the front. Blaine can’t stop looking either, to be honest.

Kurt arrives, after what seems like an eternity, whispering Mister Hummel-Anderson in Blaine’s ear as he takes his place at the altar, and Blaine’s heart stops.

They go through the rites quickly enough and suddenly Kurt’s holding a small, silver ring at Blaine’s fingertip, crying and promising to love him forevermore and Blaine’s holding a ring and crying too.

Kurt’s head is tilted a little to the side, and Blaine can’t do much more than slide hand onto cheek and kiss him before the priest was finished talking and everything’s a little wet and Blaine’s so happy he could sob and- and-

He’s falling to his knees again, a sharp pain wrenching through his back and ripping him open and there’s nothing but screaming and horrid, hot pain, burning burning burning, boiling his skin and bones and-

Cold sweat. Blood thumping like a rabbit on crack. Panting. Blinking.

Boiling.

Blaine runs from his room, wrenches the shower handle around to full-blasted cold and huddles underneath. He can hear his skin sizzling, but he’s not burning.

It still hurts, though.

He’s there for a few hours, at the very least, before he can move again with a reasonable level of pain; he feels like an overcooked roll of salami.

The morning comes sooner than Blaine expected, and he’s still shivering with the normal body temperature.

Maybe I shouldn’t go back to school so soon, after all.