The days couldn't pass fast enough for either boy, each of them itching to see the other. The only thing that could tide them over was slipping a text every time they thought their parents weren't looking. Even that though, could not pacify them entirely and by Sunday evening they were growing restless.
To Blaine 5:46
What time are you coming tomorrow?

To Kurt 5:51
What time do your parents leave?

To Blaine 5:54
Carole leaves at seven and Dad leaves by 8:30

To Kurt 5:59
Who's Carole?

To Blaine 6:01
Step-Mom

To Kurt 6:03
Oh. Right. Sorry. Um, I'll be there by nine?

To Kurt 6:04
Unless that's too early

To Kurt 6:05
Crap that's too early isn't it. Um--

To Blaine 6:07
No. It's perfectly fine. I'm kind of dying to see you.

To Kurt 6:08
Me too.

To Blaine 6:11
You're dying to see yourself? Last I checked your bathroom had a mirror

To Kurt 6:13
Oh hahaha. Are you always such a smart ass?

To Blaine 6:14
With most people yes.

To Kurt 6:17
Most people?

To Blaine 6:18
It's become a habit lately. Long story.

To Kurt 6:19
I have time.

To Blaine 6:21
Well unfortunately I do not. Dinner. Ttyl

All through dinner Kurt felt distracted. He had desperately wanted to explain why he was even more sarcastic now than he used to, but at the same time he didn't want to dump too much information on him at once. And part of Kurt had to admit that he wasn't completely ready to let Blaine that far in on his thoughts. Granted at one point he had told Blaine everything, even his inner most fears. But Kurt was too afraid to lose Blaine. He'd already lost him once, and Kurt still felt half dead from that experience. When Blaine had been gone all those months, it was as if he had taken everything great about Kurt with him. Kurt wasn't blind, and nor was anyone else. 

Kurt had stopped spending hours on his hair. He rarely ever wore anything more complicated than jeans and a cotton t-shirt. And not even a graphic-T from somewhere as lowly as Aeropostale. Kurt began to only wear Hanes and Fruit of the Loom T-shirts. His jeans still remained skinny, but he barely wore those either. He'd wear them on the few occasions he'd been forced out of the house, but other than that it was the Dalton sweats that Blaine had kept at his house. Kurt couldn't recall the last time he'd used his expensive skin care products. Finn was the first to notice, realizing that he no longer had to wait for hours in the morning to take a shower. And then it was Carole, realizing that there weren't several empty hair spray canisters in the garbage can. Last to know was Burt, realizing that his credit card was no longer being abused by things like Armani labels and what not.

For the first month and a half, everyone had assumed that it was just for convenience's sake. A broken arm, broken leg, and several cracked ribs, made for very difficult dressing, regardless of the clothing articles. This was complicated by the fact that Kurt refused to let anyone help him. He was adamant about no one helping him. Half of it was the remaining self consciousness. Only one person had ever seen all the scars he still bore from years of bullying, the terrible scratches, the marks that no amount of scar-fading-balm could cure. And if he admitted it to himself fully, it was wanting to make sure he only ever seen by Blaine. Even when faced by the possibility that Blaine may never wake up, he wanted to remain unseen by the others. So he clung to getting dressed on his own. Wearing the simplest clothes he could manage. Leaving his hair the way it was. Not bothering with his facial creams. 

But as the casts came off, the injuries long healed, nothing changed. The light in Kurt was simply gone. He continued to wear his simple clothes, didn't do much more than wash his hair, and hardly ever did anything for his face. His family could see it happening. They could see their Kurt slipping away, along with the boy in the coma. They tried to help, tried to be there for him. Tried to distract him. Tried to do anything that might help. But Kurt only became more and more withdrawn. At first he was silent altogether, not talking unless it was to inquire about Blaine's condition. Then when they started insisting that he talk, that he see a therapist or something, he opened his mouth, and the things that came out were biting. Kurt said terrible awful things to his family, and deep down he felt bad about it, but he just wanted to be left alone. Couldn't they see that? Couldn't they tell that he just wanted to be by himself? He didn't want to talk to anyone, because no one would get it. Any therapist (provided they weren't homophobic) would simply tell him that it was some high school romance and feed him bull shit about how he'd move on and find someone he loved more. No one would get that for Kurt, Blaine was it. And for Blaine, Kurt was it. They were made for each other and they were never going to want anyone else. But eventually, Kurt grew tired of his father's nagging and agreed. He would attend counseling sessions and nod to what ever bull the therapist was spouting, but nothing could change how Kurt felt, and the fact that Kurt couldn't have Blaine was slowly killing him. 

But Kurt didn't want to go into that with Blaine. Didn't want to explain how broken he had been. How broken he still was. Blaine didn't remember a single thing, except bits and pieces of a long ago fiasco in the local Gap. There was no way that Kurt could explain to Blaine that they had been so deeply in love with each other, that just the thought that Kurt might have to go on without him was enough to shut him down completely. And when Kurt had shut down, he had pulled out his old sarcastic front. Anytime someone got close to him, tried 'be there' for him, tried to say they 'loved him', tried to offer him any piece of comfort, Kurt would simply bite back. He was trying not to, it was just something that couldn't be helped. He had needed to exercise so much control while talking to Kendra, not to be rude to her as she used all her terms of endearment. 

And then there was Blaine. Being with Blaine had been easy. Simple as breathing. Just as it always had been. Except it wasn't. Because Blaine couldn't remember Kurt and Kurt could remember Blaine. But that wasn't the part Kurt had to focus on. Kurt had to focus on just being with Blaine. The fact that it was still easy, there were no intensely awkward moments, or well there were. When Blaine would say one thing or another, or Kurt would be momentarily blind sided by yet another thing that Blaine no longer knew, but the awkward was never something they couldn’t handle. They’d been able to laugh it off, or shrug it away completely. And that’s what gave Kurt hope, they still held tiny portions of their rapport.

As Kurt lay in bed awake that night, anxiously awaiting the time when nine o’clock would come to pass, he finally was remembering what it felt like to be whole again. His bed still felt empty, jarringly so, but there was the promise that one day it wouldn’t be. He still felt as though his arms were missing something, the warm weight of a familiar body, but there was the promise that one day his arms would no longer be empty. Kurt wasn’t able to fall asleep that night, and he had the nagging feeling that now since he knew somewhere out there was a boy who could fill that empty feeling, he would never be able to sleep without it again. But that didn’t bother him, he was content to let the hours float by. He replayed the memories of Old Kurt with Old Blaine. He replayed (though there were admittedly fewer) the memories of New Kurt with New Blaine. He even allowed himself brief intermittent moments to imagine what the future could hold. The possibility that someday all would be well in the world.

As soon as Kurt heard the familiar rumble of his father’s pickup truck leaving the driveway, he launched himself out of bed, only to groan as he felt the protesting of his long-since healed injuries. With the prospect of seeing Blaine, Kurt felt a little bit more motivated. Not motivated enough to break out the million dollar hair care products, but motivated enough that when choosing his t-shirt he thought ‘This one matches my eyes...but this one sets off my skin color’ he even opted for a pair of skinny jeans, though they were loose much like everything he owned now. By the time 8:50 rolled around, Kurt was hastily running his fingers through his hair, attempting to add some order to the mass chaos. He took a look in the mirror.

Deep purple V-neck cotton T and light grey skinny jeans that hung a little loose in most places was not something that Old Kurt would have approved of, but New Kurt had to admit that he looked pretty decent. His hair was neatly combed, if not as glamorous as per usual (or the old usual.) And his skin was still a pale porcelain, if decorated by a couple of scars in some places. No, he wasn’t perfect, but just as Old Kurt had known with Old Blaine, New Kurt knew that with New Blaine, perfection was never a requirement. And honestly, Kurt had grown to be distrustful at anything that seemed to be too perfect. Especially since that awful night. Because that night had been everything. Beautiful. And Wonderful. And perfect. The only night that Kurt remembered as being better than that night had been (of course before the attack) had been the night Kurt had proposed to Blaine. 

Just as the doorbell rang, Kurt looped a finger around the chain hanging from his neck. Hanging loosely from it were two identical titanium rings. On the inside of one read ‘my missing puzzle piece’ on the inside of the other read ‘Perfect to me’. Kurt’s had the Teenage Dream Lyric, Blaine’s the Perfect lyric. Kurt closed his eyes and smiled tearily for one moment as he recalled the choosing of the rings. But he only allowed himself to hesitate for a moment before hollering, “Come on in!” And walking towards the door.

Kurt smiled when he saw the curly haired boy walk through the door, “Good morning, have you eaten yet?” Blaine grinned, “Um, no. Wasn’t hungry.” Kurt chuckled, “You’re always hungry. I’m making pancakes, want some?” Blaine shrugged, “Sure.” Kurt started to twirl about the kitchen grabbing ingredients, he stopped, immediately jarred by the familiarity of what was going on. After all, how many mornings had they done this. How many mornings had consisted of getting up early to go to the other’s house and make breakfast together. How many times had they daydreamed aloud about doing this in their own apartment someday. It wasn’t until Blaine interrupted his reverie that Kurt realized he was frozen halfway through grabbing something, poised on his tiptoes, arm extended for the flour, “Um, Kurt? You okay?” Kurt’s brow furrowed for a second before grabbing the flour and shrugging, “Um, yeah. I’m great. How was your weekend?” Kurt tried to hold back his flinch as he moved his arm in the wrong way. Blaine quirked an eyebrow, “It was fine. Are you sure you’re okay?” 

Kurt began adding ingredients to a bowl and nodded, “I’m fine.” Blaine sighed, “Really? Because you look like you haven’t slept in days and just now you looked like you were a million miles away?” Kurt didn’t say anything, just grabbed a skillet and began to heat it up. “Kuuurrrt,” Blaine said, dragging out the word. Kurt raised his eyebrows in response. “You’re avoiding the question,” Blaine said. Kurt huffed, “You’re one to talk. You look like you haven’t slept since you passed out on my bed.” Blaine nodded, “Fair enough. That’s because I haven’t. I have trouble sleeping and not...well...” “Being next to me,” Kurt finished for him. “Yeah. Pretty much, so care to enlighten me as to where you went when you zoned out just now?” 

Kurt shrugged in response, flipping a pancake. “Kurt, you can tell me anything,” Blaine said. Kurt sighed, because he knew that. He knew it shouldn’t be too hard to explain what he had been thinking about to Blaine, but he thought saying it aloud would cause more pain than anything. “I...I was just thinking about all the times we’d done this,” Kurt said quietly. Blaine nodded and bit his lip, “I thought so...everything about this feels so normal. But...alien at the same time.” Kurt raised an eyebrow, “How so?” Blaine threw his hands up in response, “It’s like...my butt. The feeling of my butt in this chair feels more normal than my butt in a chair in my own house.” Kurt had to bite his lip to keep from giggling, because really, Blaine was talking about his butt, “But at the same time...I just...I feel like I’ve never...met you...I sound strange don’t I?” Kurt shook his head, “No. It makes perfect sense. And besides we’ve always kind of been like that. At home with each other I mean. Even when we’d never met before there was still an underlying familiarity there. And I don’t know, maybe that makes us both crazy. But as long as we’re both crazy we can share a room in the psychiatric ward, right?” 

Kurt’s attempt at lightness reminds Blaine of something, “Kurt? Can I ask you something?” Kurt slides a plate of pancakes in front of Blaine, “Sure.” “H-how come...why weren’t----where---why? What made you leave me?” Kurt looks up at Blaine, shocked, “What?! I never left you! I’ve been here the whole time!” Blaine nods, furrowing his brow, trying not to get upset, “I mean, how come you weren’t there--at the hospital, when I woke up.” Kurt sighed, “I was...everyday for eight weeks after I woke up, I was in your hospital room. I would refuse to do anything until they took me to see you. I wouldn’t eat. Wouldn’t cooperate with the physical therapists. Would only take my meds when the pain became blinding. I didn’t want to be separated from you longer than I had to be. But then...one day...my dad started refusing to take me. He’d talked to Finn--that’s my stepbrother--and Carole, made them promise not to take me either. He thought it wasn’t...healthy. What I was doing. Locking myself away with you. For the first week I refused to do anything remotely cooperative. I was still very injured so since I refused to cooperate with them, I was basically lying in bed all day, doing nothing. After the first week though, my dad said your father had ‘Personally sworn’,” Kurt rolls his eyes as he quotes, “‘To call and inform us of any changes. What so ever.’ But you see how well that worked out. I...I wasn’t there because I couldn’t be. It wasn’t until two weeks ago that I was legal to drive...and I tried calling, but no one ever answered. I just assumed until Kendra called me that you were...” Kurt let a couple of tears fall down his cheeks, watching them hit the skillet with a sizzle. 

Before Blaine can register his actions, he’s up, wrapping his arms around Kurt’s waist from behind, hugging him tightly, “I’m here. I’m here now.” Kurt lets out a choked sob, “But you’re not---And what if you never are? What if--what if you never love me again?!” Kurt was full out sobbing now, “And oh my god. I’m such a terrible person--here you are--just trying to---to figure things out---and here I am---unloading all my shit---o-on you” Blaine turns Kurt around so they’re facing each other, “Sh, sh,” Blaine wipes away a tear, “Kurt, look at me.” Kurt met Blaine’s eyes, as he’s done so many times before, “Listen Kurt, I mean what I say when I say that I do love you. I love you so much...and it’s crazy because I can’t even put what I’m thinking into words. And it’s--” Blaine yanked his fingers through his curls, “It’s---it’s indescribable what’s going on in my mind, because nothing makes fucking sense anymore! Nothing! The only thing that I’ve been able to understand the whole time I’ve been awake--Is that, I freaking love you Kurt Hummel.” Kurt blinked blankly at Blaine, “W-what?” Blaine’s eyes softened from a crazed desperation to a tenderness, “I love you.” Kurt nodded, “Y-yeah. I heard that, b-but w-what’d you c-call me?” Blaine frowned, “Kurt Hummel? Isn’t that your name?” Kurt nodded, “Yes, but Blaine I never told you that. Did Kendra?” Blaine shook his head, “N-no. No one did I just sort of...knew.”

Kurt’s eyes widened, “You...knew?” Blaine nodded. Kurt felt his heart lift just a little bit, gathering Blaine in a hug and squealing, “You remembered Blaine! You remembered!” Blaine chuckled and buried his face in Kurt’s neck, “I did. I did.” When they pulled apart, it was to the smell of a burning pancake, “Oh shit,” Kurt blushed. Blaine grinned, “Don’t sweat it.” Kurt rolled his eyes, “Just go eat your pancakes, before they get cold.” Blaine did as he was told, perching on the seat, taking a bite, “Mm...God these are delicious. What did you do to them?!” Kurt chuckled softly, “Cinnamon. You always liked the cinnamon ones.” Blaine nodded around a large bite of pancakes. Kurt sat across from him with his small stack of pancakes. They chewed in silence until something occurred to Blaine.

“Kurt, can I ask you something?” Kurt looked up questioningly, “Sure.” “Well...it’s just that...there have been things like that. Not huge things. Just little tid bits, and I’m not sure if they’re actually memories or if it’s just something I made up....” Kurt raised an eyebrow, “So what exactly are you asking me?” “Could you help me, find the difference?” Kurt shrugged, leaning back in his chair, “Sure.” 

“You used to wear different clothes didn’t you?”
“Yes.”
“And...and...this one is harder to explain...”
“How so?”
“It’s your voice.”
“What about it?”
Blaine blushed, “Um...well it’s your voice in a...rather...um...” Blaine looked down at the floor, refusing to meet Kurt’s gaze. “Blaine, we used to talk about everything. What ever is on your mind, I promise you’ve told me worse.” Blaine continued to stare at the floor, “Fine. Fine. Fine. But God this is so weird--and I don’t even know if it’s real---or if it was just some dream--or what and I’m just so confused--” “Blaine. Breathe. Just get it over with,” Kurt patted his hand. Blaine refused to meet Kurt’s eyes, “I...I dreamed about...a certain...thing we did together...and I think...I think it was...ourfirsttime.” The last part is said too quickly for Kurt to catch, “What’d you say Blaine?” Blaine shook his head. Kurt sighed, “Blaine, honey, you can tell me anything.” Kurt flinched as he called Blaine honey, something he hadn’t intended on doing, however Blaine didn’t seem to mind. “I...I think I was remembering our first time,” Blaine uttered quietly. “W-what do you...remember,” Kurt said hesitantly. “Um...it was at my house...after some play I think...uh...you...t-topped...um...” Kurt bit his lip, “Did you suck a hickey on my collarbone?” Blaine nodded, “Y-yeah, how’d you know that?” Kurt smiled tightly, “You always did that. It started the first time we made out shirtless, and after that it was a regular occurrence. You’d suck it back into place as soon as it began to fade.” 

Blaine nodded. Kurt took a sip of his coffee, “So what did that have to do with my voice?” Blaine blushed even deeper, “I was thinking of the way you...um...moaned my name as you...c-came.” Kurt chuckled, “I finally understand the phrase ‘blushing virgin.’” Blaine rolled his eyes, “Gee, thanks so much.” Kurt shook his head, “Sorry, sorry. I just...sorry. Please, continue with the rest of your questions.”
“Can you sing?”
“Yes.”
“No I mean, will you?”
“No.”
“Why not?”
“Because.”
“Because why?”
“Because I don’t want to.”
“Why not?”
“Because I don’t want to damn it!”
Kurt said the last part with a spit of venom in it. Blaine shrunk back a little, having unconsciously leaned forward, “Sorry, I just...was trying to help.” Kurt wanted to take it back, but couldn’t, “Well don’t.” Blaine felt as if he’d been kicked in the stomach, “I’m sorry.” Kurt stood up, “I’m going to my room. Just....just give me a couple minutes, okay?”

Kurt goes to his room and throws himself into his pillows. He can feel his body protest at the force, but can’t bring himself to move. Everything hurts. His heart included. He wasn’t supposed to have to deal with this. He wasn’t supposed to be able to get Blaine back. Blaine wasn’t supposed to say he loved him. Blaine wasn’t supposed to remember his last name. Blaine wasn’t supposed to know about their hickey. Blaine wasn’t supposed to be able to make Kurt feel this way anymore. Kurt had put away all his feelings for Blaine into a neat little package.

He still loved Blaine dearly. Loved him so much it hurt to breathe. But Kurt quit letting himself feel that. He boxed up everything until he was nothing but empty. The fact that he had agreed to meet up with Blaine, agreed to help him find himself again, is proof that Kurt was never very good at being empty. But hearing Blaine dream about their first time. Hearing Blaine ask him to sing. Kurt doesn’t know which one hurt more. The fact that Blaine had that precious memory. Or the fact that he had asked Kurt to do something Kurt had sworn off. Kurt had completely decided he was never singing again. Singing was something that was entirely too wrapped up in his life with Blaine. Hell singing is the whole reason they met. And right now, Kurt just couldn’t deal. Kurt was a broken man. He had only began to find the pieces of himself in the rubble...and he needed a minute.

More than a minute must have passed though, because soon Kurt found a warm calloused hand rubbing his back, “Kurt...I know you’re upset...and I’m sorry I pressed you too far...but please don’t shut me out. You’re all I’ve got.” Kurt slowly turned his head to meet Blaine’s gaze. Blaine frowned slightly, “Please don’t cry, you’re too pretty to cry.” Kurt gave a weak chuckle, “You really need to stop saying that.” Blaine asked, “Stop what?” Kurt shut his eyes, “One of the first compliments you gave me was that I was too pretty to cry. And I was crying because I was just...so strung out. And I remember it because...it was the first compliment a guy had ever given me.” Kurt peaked out through wet eyelashes to see Blaine smiling sadly at him. Blaine sighed, “I don’t know what to do right now...but I want to hold you.” Kurt didn’t say anything, just rolled over so there was room in the bed beside him.

Blaine climbed in beside him, pulling Kurt to his chest, “Do you want to talk about it?” Kurt shrugged. “Well do you think you could tell me why it’s a touchy subject?” Kurt spoke to Blaine’s T-shirt, “It’s just...it was something...that we always did...we were constantly humming or singing or harmonizing or something...and....a-after...I j-just....I don’t anymore Blaine...I can’t.” Blaine ran his fingers through Kurt’s hair, “Have you tried?” Kurt shook his head. “Do you mind if I sing?” Kurt shook his head again.

Blaine tightened his grip around Kurt, “I don’t know where I got this song. It was just in my head since the day I woke up. With me always.”

Untouchable like a distant diamond sky
I’m reaching out and I just can’t tell you why
I’m caught up in you, caught up in you

Untouchable burnin’ brighter than the sun
And when you’re close I feel like comin’ undone

In the middle of the night when I’m in this dream
It’s like a million little stars spellin’ out your name
You gotta come on, come on
Say that we’ll be together
Come on, come on, little taste of heaven

Kurt felt himself freeze in shock at the song. But he slowly relaxed into Blaine’s embrace. This song had been a part of them ever since the night Kurt had proposed. That night when they’d made love, Blaine had sang the song for Kurt. Insisting that this was the way he had felt about Kurt ever since they’d met. Like Kurt was some untouchable being, too perfect to be true. Like some dream that Blaine had created in his imagination.

In the middle of the night waking from this dream
I wanna feel you by my side, standing next to me
You gotta come on, come on, say that we'll be together
Come on, come on, little taste of heaven

And in the middle of the night when I'm in this dream
It's like a million little stars spelling out your name
You gotta come on, come on, come on, come on
Come on, come on, oh, oh, oh

Like a million little stars spelling out your name
They're spelling out your name, oh

As Blaine finished, Kurt buried his nose into Blaine’s chest. Blaine sighed, “So’d you like it?” “Yeah, it’s always so beautiful when you sing it. Though you insist you appreciate Taylor’s version far more,” Kurt replied. “Wait! So I’ve sung that song before?” Kurt nodded, “Yes...the first time you sang it was the night I proposed. You were always so cheesy about it.” Blaine nodded, “I can see why I chose it. You are kind of like a distant dream.” Kurt rolled his eyes, “Like I said---” At that moment there was a the click of the front door. Kurt’s eyes widened in alarm, “Shit! Fuck!! SHIT! Blaine that’s Carole!” 
“Crap! What do you want me to do?!”
“I don’t know! Give me a minute!” Kurt ran a hand through his hair.
“Kurt,” Blaine and Kurt froze as Carole hollered from the kitchen.
“Um, be there in a minute Carole!” Kurt answered.
“Everything okay in there?” Carole called.
“Yes Carole, just tidying up.”

“God. Fuck. Damn.” Kurt muttered mostly to himself. “Okay listen. Just stay in here and be as quiet as possible.” What am I going to do Kurt demanded of himself as he crept out of his room and into the kitchen where his step-mom was sitting. Carole took a dainty bite of a sandwich she had just fixed, “You’re looking spiffy today kiddo. Hot date?” Kurt blushed, “Um...no.” Carole just nodded and watched Kurt as he took a seat, “So were you on the phone?” Kurt quirked an eyebrow, “Uh, no.” Carole shrugged, “Oh. Thought I heard voices.” Kurt blanched, I’m fucking busted now. “Um...about that...uh...” Kurt trailed off nervously. Carole raised an eyebrow suspiciously, “What about it?” Kurt bit his lip, “Just...hear me out. I’ll explain everything, just don’t interrupt me.” Carole waved his hand as if to say, ‘Please continue’

“Well um, about a week ago, I got a call. From Kendra. Blaine’s cousin, you remember her, right,” Kurt doesn’t wait for Carole to nod before he continues, “Well we met up. For coffee. And she said that...she told me Blaine had woken up,” Kurt doesn’t acknowledge Carole’s alarmed glare, “Said that he’d been out of the hospital for almost a week. But...he doesn’t remember...he doesn’t remember anything...about meeting me. About dating me...about you..Finn, Dad...he doesn’t even remember Dalton,” Kurt feels a little choked up, “B-but...his parents were keeping it from him...they lied to him...they lied about me and the Warblers and school and everything...but he’s here...and he...it’s...I” Kurt trailed off and looked at the table. “Kurt honey, why didn’t you tell us,” Carole says gently. Kurt shrugs, “I just...it’s so complicated. I just really wanted to know him again. And I don’t yet. And he doesn’t know me. But it’s still there. And we’re just---I---Carole I can’t--” Carole sighs, “Can’t what sweetie?” “Just...please...promise you won’t tell dad,” Carole looks as though she’s about to protest, “At least--not just yet. I want to tell him. But right now...Blaine and I need to figure out what’s going on... and I just...if dad finds out you know he’ll stir all kinds of trouble and who knows what it’ll do to his heart, and what if he says something to the Andersons or---” Carole cut across him, “Kurt, sweetie, breathe. Listen. I won’t tell your dad. On one condition.” 

Kurt raised an eyebrow, “What?” “Can I see him, is he here?” Carole’s look was pleading. Kurt couldn’t deny her. He knew as well as anyone that for all the love that Blaine missed from his own parents, Carole and Burt made up ten fold. Each of them had been as heartbroken by Blaine’s injuries as they had been by Kurt’s. Kurt sighed, “Let me go talk to him.” Carole nodded and Kurt slowly made his way to his room. 

Kurt opened the door to find Blaine perched on his bed, “Carole...Carole wants to see you.” Blaine looked nervous. “You don’t--you don’t have to if you don’t want to. Just...she loves you too.” Blaine nodded, “Yes. Yes, I’d like to see her.” Blaine followed Kurt to the kitchen to find Carole sitting there. She saw Blaine traipse in behind Kurt and she started to cry. She brought her hands to her face, trying to wipe away the never ending flow of tears, “C-can I...can I hug you?” Blaine was reluctant, but nodded, holding his arms wide, “Yes. Sure.” She stood and hugged him squeezing him tightly, “You don’t know--how---how worried---Burt and---And I were--So--so--so worried about you---so worried about you--” Blaine nodded and Carole let him go, “I’m sorry I just...Blaine honey, I love you like I love Finn and Kurt. You’re just as much my son as they are and I...” Blaine nodded, “No, I get it. And it’s nice to know I have a motherly figure somewhere.” Carole nodded sympathetically. 

“Are you guys hungry? Have you eaten yet,” Carole felt the sudden need for movement. Kurt looked to Blaine, “I’m starving, what about you Blaine?” Blaine nodded in agreement and Carole set about fixing grilled cheese sandwiches.

_________

An hour and a half later, Carole was standing at the sink, exchanging stories with Kurt, talking to Blaine about what had happened when she looked out the front window. She watched Burt’s pickup truck pull in and froze, “Oh sh---”