Kurt was breathing heavily, staring into Blaine’s eyes and wondering still why Blaine hadn’t smiled. Why wasn’t he smiling? Was Kurt smiling? Blaine was his best friend, had to be his best friend. What was wrong?

            “Kurt, what are you doing here? How did you even find out where I live?” Blaine crossed his arms, leaning against the doorframe.

            “I just-I Googled your name and I found your address. I didn’t have your phone number or I would’ve called first. Blaine, I really need you,” Kurt pleaded. “Can I come in? Please?”

            Blaine pursed his lips, Adam’s apple bobbing as he swallowed. Eventually, his politeness won him over. “Fine, come in. But you can’t stay long, Kurt. I’m getting ready to leave.” He turned away and walked into the house, Kurt following behind him. The main area was small, only holding a couch, an armchair, and a bookshelf filled with various titles and CDs. Kurt sat timidly on the edge of the couch and looked up at Blaine, who was still standing. “Kurt, what’s going on? Why are you here?”

            “I don’t know what happened to me, Blaine. I was thirteen, and I was at that godawful birthday party, and I remember wishing I could be thirty, and then I woke up and I was like this,” Kurt gestured to himself. “I’m an adult and I don’t know how it happened! Quinn is my best friend and I’m executive editor at Vogue and Santana calls me Porcelain, but I don’t remember any of high school or growing up or anything!”

            Blaine gaped at Kurt for a moment. “Kurt, how much did you drink last night?”

            “I-nothing. I just told you, yesterday I was thirteen and today, I’m not.”

            “Kurt, you haven’t been thirteen for almost eighteen years now. I’m still trying to figure out why you came to me with all this. You’ve already told me Quinn is your best friend.”

            “But... But you’re my best friend too, right?”

            Blaine clenched his jaw, the hurt obviously showing on his face before he fixed Kurt with a steely glare. “No. We’re not friends anymore, Kurt. We haven’t been friends for a long time. Don’t you remember anything?” Kurt shook his head, confused. How were they no longer friends? What had happened to them? Blaine sighed heavily, sitting on the couch next to Kurt. “After you got slushied at your party that day, you locked yourself in the closet. I tried to get you to talk to me for almost an hour before you told me that the whole thing was my fault and you never wanted to speak to me again. Then you came out and walked past me like I wasn’t even there. At school the next day, you went and tried out for the Cheerios, nailed it, and never looked back.”

            “I was a Cheerio?”

            Blaine ran a hand through his hair before standing up. “Wait here, Kurt. I have something to show you.” He walked upstairs, leaving Kurt bewildered on the couch. A few minutes later, he came back down with a yearbook. “This is Rachel Berry’s. She’s my roommate. I’m sure she won’t mind us borrowing it for a few minutes, as long as you don’t write anything mean into it.” Blaine flipped open the yearbook to the activities page and turned it so it was facing Kurt. In the middle of a row of Cheerios, right in between Santana Lopez and Quinn Fabray, was Kurt Hummel. He took the yearbook from Blaine, staring at it in shock, and read through the names of all the other Cheerios.

            “Santana Lopez and Quinn Fabray, cocaptains? Kurt Hummel… Captain?  I was captain?” Blaine simply nodded as Kurt continued to flip through the yearbook, finally coming to the prom page. “I was prom queen? Why would I be prom queen?”

            “It was what you wanted. Kurt Hummel got whatever he wanted. You campaigned against almost every other senior girl in the school, and when you got picked, you sauntered up to the stage, snatched the crown from the poor freshman holding it, and said ‘Eat your heart out, Kate Middleton.”

            “Who’s Kate Middleton?” Kurt flipped a few more pages, stopping to glance at this picture or that person.

            “I- Never mind, it’s not important. Kurt, you did everything you could to get to the top, and didn’t care who you had to step on to make it. I’m glad you’re doing well, but you shouldn’t be here.”

            “Wait, Blaine? Where are you? This is our senior yearbook, how come you’re not in with all the seniors?” Kurt glanced over at Blaine, confused, and saw the hurt flashing across his face again.

            “I transferred schools sophomore year. There was nothing left for me at McKinley, Kurt. You know that. You were the one who made sure of it. Between being slushied by the Cheerios and shoved into lockers by the football team… I just - I couldn’t take it anymore. So I moved in with my brother in Westerville and started at Dalton Academy. I finished the rest of high school there.” Blaine stood up abruptly. “You need to leave, Kurt. I can’t do this anymore. Go home, go to work, go anywhere. I just don’t want you in my apartment.”

            Kurt stood up slowly. “Blaine, I’m so sorry. I never meant to hurt you. I don’t know why I was so mean. I’m going to fix this, I promise. We’ll be friends again.” Kurt nodded, trying to convince himself that he could make it all right.

            Blaine opened the front door, jaw working furiously, refusing to look Kurt in the eyes. “Goodbye, Kurt.” He shut the door behind his former best friend and slid to the floor, back against the wall, with tears in his eyes.