Three days. It had been three days and Kurt was sure Karofsky had figured out how he'd been avoiding him. Kurt had been more than prompt when getting to school in the morning and leaving the choir room for homeroom earlier than usual. He didn't mind looking like a loner being in class before even the teacher had arrived, not if it meant he'd be safe. Karofsky knew where his first class was now, and even though Kurt hadn't known what his bully's mornings were compiled of, he's pretty sure it hadn't included hanging around that particular hallway for a long time. He and his friends were loud enough that Kurt would have heard them before, and now it was like he heard them all the time.

I'm probably just working it up to much in my head, hearing things that aren't real, the fragile boy thought to himself. How could he have been so careless that he compromised his safety? The plan, the room that had once given him comfort and security was cracked. Even though he was in a classroom, door closed and lights dim, he felt horribly exposed. All Karofsky had to do was look through the small rectangular window and he would see him.

Kurt looked out the windows on the other side of the classroom. The sky was dark once again, and it still hadn't snowed. He let himself focus on trying to read the clouds. He wanted it to snow so badly, something beautiful for this time year. He wanted it so badly, it would probably just rain.

Kurt is startled out of his fear-filled thoughts when Mercedes joined him in the still teacher-less classroom. It had been a while since they'd hand any time to hang out. To be honest, Kurt had plenty of time but ever since the torment had gotten worse he couldn't trust who would be around the corner. It was a defense that he always had up and felt like he would never be able to get rid of. It was scary, going out into the world where he had no control, and he felt awful for practically abandoning his friends. He was forced to go to school, he could stay home, and he would. There was a time he would go out to the mall for hours, dragging Mercedes and whoever he could with him. He didn't have that anymore.

It wasn't as if he had made a decision to stop seeing people. It just...stopped. His activities narrowed to seeing only certain people, than to nothing more than school, glee, and home where he would cook for himself and his dad then sit with his father watching TV or a movie.

Mercedes sat down at the desk next to him. Kurt always sat in the second row from the edge. Any closer to the middle and he felt trapped. On the edge, and he felt too exposed. Sure, Kurt didn't have any classes with Karofsky and usually the other kids just ignored him but there was always the chance that someone new would decide to add their own special torment to his day.

"What's going on Kurt?" His friend asked carefully, leaning across the narrow aisle to place her hand on top of his own. "You've been more on edge this week. Did something happen?" Mercedes was one of the few of Kurt's friends whom he'd confided in a lot about what was happening over the years. Also, because they had spent a lot of time together at school, she had witnessed a lot of it first hand. Kurt smiled loosely at his friend.

"I just, um, I messed up the other day. I was late. And he saw me." Understanding immediately shown on Mercedes face. Her eyes shown with sorrow.

"Do you want me to come in early with you? For a while at least?"

"No 'Cedes. Thank you, but no. I think it'll be okay. It's just bothering me right now. I'm sure nothing will change." Kurt's words were true, they really were, even if he had to convince himself of it.

"Your plan to stay safe got a little bumpy. I understand why you're worried." She squeezed his hand to give him some sign of assurance. She was well aware of how closed off Kurt could get. Even with everything, he hated showing that he was weak, she knew that and once he had made up his mind, there was really no changing it.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Despite his throbbing head, Blaine's body woke him up. A built in safety for not having heard his alarm go off. He quickly remembered that he didn't have to get up because it was the holiday and cursed his subconscious for waking him.

Half an hour passed, spent drifting between sleep and consciousness, and Blaine could no longer ignore that he was awake, nor the pain in his head. He got up, realizing he still had on most of his work clothes from the day before. He stepped out of the wrinkled slacks, walked over to his dresser and pulled out a pair of dark blue sweats and a grey t-shirt. Only after he'd gotten dressed did he feel off about something. Blaine stared down at the dresser. There was something he couldn't quite remember.

Accepting that it being something really important was slim, Blaine left his room.

He passed through the living, barely taking notice that Santana was still knocked out on his couch, a sight he'd gotten used to over the years. Reaching the kitchen, Blaine flipped the light switch without thinking, immediately turning it back off when he felt his eyes water at the brightness.

Blaine opened the cabinet next to the stove where he kept medicine. He took out the bottle of aspirin, taking two out and leaving the bottle on the counter. Santana would be needing it later. It was only 7:30 when he looked at the green numbers on the stove. Getting a glass of water, he took his aspirin back to his room, determined to sleep more.

He pushed the door open from where he'd left it cracked when he'd left. He glanced over the room mid taking the medicine and almost choked when he did a double take over the dresser. There was something standing in front of the large photo of the Warblers. At least, he thought there was something standing there, but it couldn't be. It looked like a- a butterfly? It was November, almost December and there was a butterfly in his room??

Blaine approached, whatever it was, slowly and as quietly has he could manage. Surely he had to have actually gotten smashed the previous night because he was ready to swear to the world that there was a small person with wings standing on his dresser.

The wings were beautiful, like nothing Blaine had ever seen. Blaine caught sight of his own reflection in the frame's glass at the same time as the boy, who turned around quickly. Fear was obvious in his eyes. It was mere seconds of frozen disbelief before he took off. It couldn't be. Blaine had been staring at that face for a month now. By the time Blaine's brain caught up with what his eyes had seen, he stood up and whipped his head around, the motion almost too much for his hangover.

"WAIT!" Blaine yelled. The small man with the wings stopped mid-air. He hovered, wings flapping together slowly, just enough to keep him in the air. "Kurt?" Blaine's question came out raspy, as if he was still half asleep. He couldn't believe his eyes when flying boy turned around slowly, as if questioning whether or not he should just leave. Just a couple of feet in front of his face was the boy whose picture had consumed his dreams and every waking thought.

"I'm...I'm still drunk, aren't I? or going insane?" Blaine shook his head and rubbed his hands over his face in disbelief. Looking back up to the boy, he saw confusion and fear in his eyes. Kurt was opening and closing his mouth not sure what he should say, if he should say anything at all, or just get out while he can.

"If your insane, than so am I, and I think I'd take that over this reality." Kurt's voice was small, not because of his size but because he was scared. "I'm just gonna..." Kurt motioned to the door with his hand.

"No, please Kurt. Stay." Once Blaine was sure that the boy wouldn't leave, he walked to his bed and sat down on the edge. The sound of wings let him know that Kurt had followed him; he was hovering just in front of his face once more. "um..so...do you know how this- this happened?" Blaine's voice was higher pitched than normal, perhaps because he was staring at missing boy who was the size of his hand and had wings.

"I have an idea-"

"What even are- you're like a- a fairy?" Blaine's morning haze was finally disappearing and his mind was properly putting together that things he was seeing.

"Yes-" Kurt offered before Blaine erupted.

"What happened? Where have you been? How long have you been a fairy?! How did you get here? Why are you here?!" Pulling himself together again Blaine looked at Kurt whose shown fear but also sadness. The boys eyes were rimmed in unfallen tears. Noticing how upset he'd made him, Blaine froze. He knew this boy was fragile and he'd freaked out. It was a miracle that he was still standing- hovering in front of him.

"I'm sorry Kurt, I'm so sorry. Please don't leave, or cry."Kurt moved to the bedside table and sat down, legs hanging over the edge. They just looked at each other for a few minutes. How could this even be real?

"I followed you," Kurt began after a while, "I saw you at my house. You wanted to help my dad and- and I liked you, trusted you. My dad trusts you." Blaine lay down on his side facing Kurt, arm pulled up underneath his head on the pillow. Kurt told him about how he'd woken up a fairy and that he'd never actually gone missing. He'd listened in on all the meetings that Blaine and Burt had at his house and then one day, he'd decided to leave with him. He snuck into Blaine's car.

Blaine listened attentively to what Kurt told him. He couldn't even begin to fathom the fear of waking as a fairy. He completely understood why he couldn't just walk- fly- up to his dad. Blaine had other questions though. Some were more important, more sensitive than others and Blaine didn't want to push this new confidence that Kurt had given him. He stuck with the simple questions.

"It was you that knocked my ring off the picture frame last night, wasn't it?" Kurt nodded in reply. "Why do you like that picture so much?" Blaine's voice had grown softer, almost a whisper.

"I was going to transfer to Dalton. I know," Kurt added quickly, "that you know about...stuff. It was a slim chance and I know running isn't brave at all but..."

"Hey. Getting out of a dangerous place IS brave." Blaine propped his head up on his hand. "It might not feel like it, trust me I know, but it is." A quiet "How?" came from the boy across from him.

"It's brave because you have to have the courage to say to yourself that you need to get out. The courage to get out when everyone is telling you that it'll stop if you ignore it. Leaving and staying are equally difficult." Kurt pulled his feet back up over the edge of the table and brought his knees up to rest his chin on them.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Kurt and Blaine talked about nothing in particular for a long time that morning. Mainly they talked about their experiences and Kurt's dad. Blaine told Kurt about how he'd ended up at Dalton. How he'd been beaten up and broken before he left his previous school. As much as he wished he'd stayed and stood up for himself, he knew he'd done the right thing in leaving. It was obvious that Kurt was holding something back throughout their conversation. Blaine had only hoped that one day Kurt would be willing to share.

"Blaine?" A voice came from the other side of the closed bedroom door. Blaine jumped and both boys immediately stopped talking. Santana. Looking at the clock behind Kurt, it was nearly 10am. Blaine had completely forgotten that his friend was asleep on his couch. "Blaine? Who are you talking to?" Santana knocked on the door as she started to open it. Before he could say anything to him, Kurt took off toward the closet. He slipped through the crack where the door wasn't fully closed. Blaine rolled over in his bed, looking at where Kurt had disappeared then back at where Santana was entering his room.

"Hey San. Good Morning." His friend looked at him curiously. "Oh I was just, um, on the phone, with Burt Hummel."

"Blaine," Santana muttered accusingly, sitting down on the edge of Blaine's bed. "Is there news?" When Blaine shrugged non-committedly she continued, "Blainers the point of last night was that you wouldn't be constantly thinking about this. You just need to stop for a little bit, this break, that's what you need to do."

"I can't San. I can't stop thinking about it. I have to," Blaine glanced over at his closet, "I have to find out what happened to Kurt."

"Okay. Okay. We'll find out. I promise." Santana had crawled up from where she sat at the end of the bed to lay down next to Blaine. "We should go back to sleep now. Got a terrible hangover." Accepting his friend curling into his side, he wrapped his arms around her. With one last glance at the closet, he held on to Santana while she went back to sleep, and let sleep find him again.