Blaine clung hard, his words gasped into Wes's neck when Wes tried to help him up off the floor. "I don't want to do this anymore." Ironic to cling to someone and tell them you want to get away, but Blaine needed to hold onto something. Being a fire hazard didn't matter. Dirt and glass on his clothes didn't matter. The hopeless look Wes gave him mattered some because he didn't want any of the Warblers to think poorly of him, but he chose to ignore it and gripped harder.

The words came without a plan behind them. He didn't think; exhaustion and stress forced them out. His supposedly brilliant plan to solve all his problems at once failed so spectacularly that it only exacerbated the issues. He still had a job he couldn't convince himself he wanted anymore and that wouldn't allow him to pursue another. Hunter had no reason to surrender the tape he invaded Blaine's privacy to get. Kurt would never forgive him for unwittingly allowing the tape, or for stealing the leading role in the show Kurt wrote. Schuester wouldn't forgive Kurt easily if Kurt wanted to earn it back.

Wes patted at Blaine, arms stiff, completely out of his element when it came to being held. "We'll take care of it." He snapped his fingers at Sebastian and Hunter and then pointed to Schuester's crumpled form. "Get rid of that, will you?"

Wes steered him to the table, and Blaine didn't consciously move but ended up where Wes wanted him anyway. His hands and forearms throbbed where the glass broken the skin. He looked numbly down at the scrapes and cuts as if they weren't his. He thought to himself that they didn't even look that bad. Not enough to reveal how hurt he felt.

After Will Schuester was removed and hydrogen peroxide tracked down to disinfect after his ill landing, Blaine resigned himself to the peculiar fate of being fussed over by three men with no previous sign of caregiving instincts. He extended him arm at Wes's command.

Sebastian withheld the bottle and the cotton swabs. "We should take pictures first."

"Photographed evidence," Hunter nodded. "Smart. You'll get better detail that way."

"Dalton is private." Wes beckoned with his free hand for Sebastian to hand the items over.

To avoid looking any longer at the mess he made of himself, Blaine watched Hunter cover the trilling bird in the corner. Pavarotti fell silent.

Sebastian held firm. "Blackmail requires evidence."

A cold smirk spread on Hunter's lips. "We'll make him bleed. Sounds like this guy has money to spare."

"Always about getting Blaine on camera with you two," Wes sniffed. "Costume paint provides the same amount of evidence as this." He gestured at Blaine carefully curled in on himself to take up as little space as possible and still avoid smearing. Blaine didn't think he'd wear this outfit ever again but he could sell it if he kept blood off of it. "Take a picture of Will Schuesterbefore Trent tosses him out if you want to be effective about the blackmail you're not permitted to attempt."

Sebastian moved out of the way when Wes reached for the items in his hands. "What are we supposed to do then?"

If he sat perfectly still, they might never think to ask him.

"I have it all on camera," Hunter offered.

"Destroy it," Wes said flatly. "It's like you're deliberately attempting to ruin my business. Destroy any video you've ever taken within these walls."

Wes directed his attention back to Blaine and tugged Blaine's arm forward again. "You shouldn't have done this. I know you're upset right now so I don't want to scold you too harshly, but you should know better. I'll let you fill in the rest of the lecture yourself."

Sebastian handed a hydrogen peroxide soaked cotton ball over to Wes.

"You don't matter less than Kurt."

Blaine hissed at the sting.

"It's for your own good," Wes lectured as he held Blaine firm.

"All this for Kurt?" Sebastian scoffed. "Hope he appreciates it."

Blaine shrugged, his eyes on the floor. He only succeeded in making things worse for both of them and Kurt didn't want to speak to him. When Schuester regained consciousness, he was going to be furious. He still wanted Kurt to "earn" the lead role and now he knew that they had set him up from the beginning and that Kurt's feelings had never been genuine.

"Have you ever considered you're not very good for your job?" Sebastian asked conversationally when Blaine didn't respond.

Blaine ignored Sebastian and turned to protest to Wes, "Sebastian may see more clients but I'm the highest paid Warbler here!"

He wasn't going to let them re-write history just because he'd fallen out of favor. Or just cause a lotof trouble that could lead to blackmail and unwanted publicity and everything else they'd warned him against.

Rather than take offense Sebastian cracked up. "Yes, yes, men desperately want to sleep with you, well done."

Wes held up a finger to silence Sebastian. "Now isn't the time for this."

The scolding didn't deter Sebastian. "There's more to your job than that. Like having limits. Plenty of people can balance sex work with personal relationships, but those people aren't you. I'm not even sure you can balance a personal relationship with being you. Do you even know how to say no?"

Blaine shook his head out of disagreement with the question, not meaning to signal that he didn't know how to say no like Sebastian implied. What did a single word do for him? He was still obligated to Dalton. Just like he was tangled in Hunter's scheme, somehow in Hunter's debt despite Hunter taking advantage of him. He never uttered the word at Schuester: he hadn't wanted to know that Schuester would disregard it.

"That's what contracts are for," Blaine mumbled. Contracts set boundaries for him went it felt too ungiving for him to do so. He told Kurt once that contracts kept him from being taken advantage of. Except that terrible desire to be liked made him willing for even what he wasn't obligated to. And he was even more of an over-eager disaster with nothing binding him to someone like Kurt other than a temporary agreement to try and make a relationship work. He'd doanything.Blaine understood fully why Wes wouldn't want him anywhere near a viewing public and it wasn't a vindictive desire to stifle Blaine's creativity. Performing made a dangerous career choice for the eager-to-please. Possibly even more so than his current occupation.

Sebastian arched an eyebrow. "Your job's illegal. How binding do you think a contract is? Leave whenever the hell you want."

"Without Dalton, Blaine will be homeless again," Wes reminded them. He glanced just long enough at Blaine to add, "I'm saying this because I care. You know taking you in to Dalton was the best thing that could've happened to you."

"You couldn't possibly want to give up your career to play doting fan in The Kurt Hummel Show," Hunter said. "You're too talented to let someone else have all the glory."

"We broke up." Possibly. Probably. No one had to say those exact words aloud for it to be true. Forgiveness hinged upon success and all Blaine did was make things worse. Schuester might give Kurt his leading role back, but it wouldn't be for free.

"Well then." Hunter looked intrigued at the news. "My offer still stands. You won't want any attachments in your new life. Time to start fresh completely."

"It's rude to plot against someone who's sitting in the same room," Wes snipped at Hunter. "I know about your tawdry offer, you'll remember."

"Then you'll remember that it's the perfect solution."

"You do not have permission to turn Blaine into a low-rent reality show. I forbade it then and I won't change my stance now. Blaine has no reason to leave Dalton. We have measures to make sure something like this doesn't happen and if he followed the rules . . ."

Blaine's eyes drifted to the window even though the darkness outside prevented him from seeing through it. The Warblers could carry on fighting over him, without his input, whether he was there or not. All he had to do to stop listening was leave.

As soon as they left him to recuperate on his own Blaine gave into what he longed to do for days now and ran away.

***

Kurt came home to chaos. His sewing machine uncovered, spools scattered around the base. An enormous packet of safety pins half-emptied. Brittany fussed with Tina's hair while Tina applied Mike's stage makeup. Mercedes, Rachel, and Santana warmed their voices at competing volumes. Pins held together dresses where Kurt had ripped out the seams to fit the intended bodies and attached details he neglected like trim and buttons. Artie went around telling everyone what they were doing wrong.

"What on earth, Tina Cohen-Chang," Kurt called as he slide the apartment door shut behind him. "Are you putting on a show for ghosts?"

As usual, his friends weren't fazed by raised voices, and dramatic entrances were even more commonplace than dramatic exits.

"We're saying goodbye," Tina explained, breaking her hair and makeup prep chain to greet Kurt.

"That implies quitting."

Rachel stopped her vocal runs long enough to pipe up, "Quitting can feel very satisfying!"

Kurt scowled at her and she shut her mouth. "Not to me."

"We talked some more while you were gone," Mercedes began, each word chosen carefully. "About the show."

Rarely did conversations that started that way go well. The cast's mix of nervous and defiant faces didn't offer a lot of promise either. Like he walked into an intervention. "And?"

"And we're done working with Will Schuester," she concluded.

"We don't want to force your hand," Tina said to placate him. "It should be your decision. But we have some hesitations too. Mostly about him." Tina looked to Mercedes for confirmation.

"We're not hesitant; we're done," Artie argued.

"We agreed we'd frame it nicely!" Tina shot back.

Santana raised her hands to hold off the others from speaking. "Kurt, you ran off to fix this mess without saying how. We're not idiots. We know where you were. If you wantedto sleep with Schuester we'd tell you that you can do better and leave it at that, but we've spent months keeping that jackal in human form away from you. We're not going to stand around and make it easier for him to manipulate you."

The urge to defend himself rose hotly along with his blush. He could protest that he left to find Blaine, but that wasn't entirely true. He wanted to find Blaine but he didn't know what he would've done if he found Schuester instead. He tried the entire subway ride to convince himself to plead his case with Schuester, but he couldn't.

"Just saying what we should've said months ago," Santana added when Kurt didn't respond.

Without them he had no cast. He counted on them to be around when he figured out how to get his part back. But he couldn't force them to stay in the show any more than he could force Blaine to give back the role he took out of some inexplicable revenge for Kurt choosing the show over him. How many people would he choose his show over? One failed relationship was more than enough of a price. Kurt arched a haughty eyebrow at their squabbles to hide the depths of his frustration with the options he had left and finally spoke. "You needed costumes to say all that?"

"When we end things we do it right. We don't need an audience. We never have before." Tina retrieved his costume and held it out to him. "Get ready. We're having opening and closing night tonight."

"And recording the proof!" Brittany waved her camera in the air.

His initial reaction was to resist participating himself. Admitting an end meant admitting defeat. That he was out of ideas. That he had absolutely no backups plans. That all his work for months (years, really) wouldn't do a thing for his career. He was too furious to imagine striking a deal with Schuester, particularly one that included a brand new cast to replace his friends quitting. Calling his former agent, Sue, for her colorful advice meant admitting she was right to advise him away, but he could get over his pride if he thought doing so would lead anywhere. While very commanding, Sue had no control over what another member of the industry did. Who else would believe him? Nothing about him made him more trustworthy than Sunshine Corazon when she made similar unsubstantiated claims against her mentor. He could focus if only he could stop suffocating in his heartbreak for a second. How is he supposed to get ready to end the one thing he's loved most in years with the second already gone?

Kurt accepted the costume from Tina. Sometimes coping required a certain amount of playing dress up.

***

Blaine didn't turn back when the wind hit him as soon as he stepped outside on his own. Running away felt so good at first. Like he finally control. Things didn't just happen to him. He chose to leave and he'd choose what to do with his life after he was gone.

Before leaving he bought a one-way plane ticket to Los Angeles for the next morning. Los Angeles held some promise: California had plenty of theme parks, and entertaining at theme parks was really his only other viable skill. He could track down his brother, maybe. He kept tabs on him still, had a Google Alert set for "Cooper Anderson" that let him see what his brother was up to without disrupting his life. Blaine had a decent idea of where to find him. After disappearing years ago, it might be nice to let himself be found. Presuming Cooper liked the reality more than the memory: too much time passed for him to fit the lost, runaway child in Cooper's mind.

He'd seen Kurt break into the theatre once before, and he imitated the process with eventual success. The lock didn't give easily. His sweaty hands skidded where they tried to grip the handle and smeared across the glass. In the absence of anywhere to go, he had his piano and his stage for a little while longer. He coaxed his unwieldy load – two oversized bags, a satchel, and a birdcage – to lean against the piano. Blaine's arms tired from dragging nearly his own weight in luggage and balancing the birdcage on top of one of the bags to keep it from teetering. Pavarotti peeped as Blaine moved him to a more stable position on top of the piano.

His excitement lasted shorter than he thought and the sinking feeling returned as he lingered at the piano. Goodbyes didn't come easily when he bothered to give them. He thought he might just leave a note – a cowardly, non-confrontational way to apologize and explain – and count on someone in the cast delivering it to Kurt. He didn't know where to begin. His skill set didn't include writing; he had no clue how to frame his goodbye apology to seem sincere without spashing his heart across page after page of regrets. Knowing what to say wasn't his strength. Music he understood better.

For a moment he rested his forehead against the cool frame of the piano. At the start of his experience with the show, when he first asked Kurt to find a spot for him, he didn't expect to become so invested. He had the itch to perform but went years without doing anything about it. His best memories – his best memories that weren't exclusively about Kurt – involved afternoons playing the piano for the Warblers.

He found an abandoned copy of the sheet music he wanted. Rachel wrote it to be a love song and Kurt repurposed it to be about a different kind of longing and an end to pretense. He said the original version was too clichéd and not to tell Rachel that, but Blaine loved it from the start. He knew a thing or two about pretending. He strove for perfection, had ever since he was a child and noticed that attention it could bring him, being the best at performances. The only way to get close to perfection for him was acting it out and pretending to be a better version of himself. One who didn't screw things up. One who thought things through. One who was wracked with insecurity over being loved.

The stripped down, acoustic version under Blaine's couldn't distract from the rawness in his voice at "I'm not okay." The heavy chords filled the empty space. He imagined Kurt there to turn the song back into a proper duet. That Kurt would understand that he never intended to ruin everything. He played louder and started from the beginning.

***

For a moment, Kurt thought he dreamed Blaine into being, although Kurt never once dreamed of watching someone else on stage – his stage- perform one of his songs. (Rachel's song, technically.) And being moved instead of jealous. He knew Blaine was talented but he never heard him like this. Blaine was such a performer, playing to what he knew people wanted to hear, but he didn't know he had an audience as Kurt and his cast entered. Kurt stood mesmerized at Blaine pouring himself into a performance he didn't know he was giving.

His cast – just his friends, now – weren't so easily distracted.

"Spy!" Rachel cried, pointing at Blaine accusingly.

The music stopped.

"You can't steal my song on top of Kurt's role," Rachel announced with an unamused toss of her hair.

"That's not how spying works but he stole out idea! We were going to break in first!" Artie protested.

"Really shouldn't have wasted all that time getting ready first," Mike mumbled to Mercedes.

"That way we could have avoided being the second craziest people on the subway," she agreed.

Santana pushed past Kurt into the theatre, trailed by Tina and Brittany. "Where's the puppetmaster pulling the strings to make you seem like a real boy?"

"If he's here, Schuester can't be far off," Tina said.

Blaine, tentative in his own skin, slid the piano lid shut. Kurt could barely hear him across the theatre. "Don't take him back." His wide eyes pleaded with Kurt across the theatre.

While originally at the head of the cast, Kurt was passed by every single one of them as they charged forward to chase Blaine off and he stayed rooted in place. All that searching, scouring the city for him, and Blaine just showed up right when Kurt was going to dance and sing that man right out of his hair. Like Nellie in South Pacific, he just as abruptly, traitorously switched to thinking I'm in love with a wonderful guy.

Kurt shook himself to dislodge the thought. He knew better than to be swayed by a pretty voice attached to an even prettier face. Blaine didn't love him, and probably never had, no matter how Kurt longed to interpret the song Blaine played. He couldn't let himself fall again. He had to get over feeling like this for Blaine: love-struck, anxious about why Blaine looked so distraught, aching for him. Blaine caused them both to feel like this. He chose to make Kurt miserable. Kurt would reserve his sympathy for himself.

Kurt got vicious when upset and, as much as he wanted to unleash his frustrations, his feelings about Blaine were still confused enough to want to protect Blaine from that. He wouldn't make the same mistake of lashing out at Blaine when he just wanted to move on. Kurt closed his eyes. "You shouldn't be here."

***

"You can't just sell us all out and then act broken up about it," Santana snipped as she stalked toward the stage, the rest of the cast on her heels.

As per usual, Blaine looked for the quickest way out.

Through the curtain he caught a glimpse of a blue suit. Wes. The Warblers never worked alone; others must be in the building. They followed him, of course they followed him. They'd been waiting in the wings for him to work through his emotional turmoil and return with them to Dalton. Another swaying shift of curtain and Wes waited for him with hands clasped behind his back.

Blaine reared backward without thought for the space around him as the cast flooded down the aisles. He crashed over one of his suitcases. Wes tried to catch him under the arms, dodging the bench and flung out limbs, before gravity won out. The thud of bag and then body silenced the rest of the theatre. Blaine yelped in pain.

"I need your help here," Wes called over his shoulder to the wings. He kicked Blaine's luggage out of the way and dropped to Blaine's side. Sebastian and Hunter pushed through the curtain, as Blaine predicted they would.

"Wait!" The presence of the Warblers startled Kurt out of his stillness, rushing down the aisle.

Blaine's palms stung under his weight. He just repeated himself, over and over, never learning to stop the cycle, re-falling on his injuries. Twice in one day he wound up on the ground, wincing at the pain he caused himself. He couldn't bring himself to move.

"This is the theatre you've been sneaking off to? Not. Worth. It." Sebastian called loud enough to be meant for everyone's ears. He threw a nasty sneer toward Santana scowling back at him.

"What do you want with him?" He heard the panic in Kurt's voice under the hard edge. The Warblers must've looked more threatening than they were, descending on him when his blood marked Wes's suit from where he'd clung earlier. Blaine wasn't about to call them harmless either, even with Wes's good intentions.

Wes urged him up. "Let's get you somewhere private."

Blaine didn't allow himself to be led as easily as he had earlier that night. "No." Somewhere private meant Dalton. He had no intention of returning. "I thought leaving implied I quit."

Wes lowered his voice as he laid a guiding hand on Blaine's arm. "I didn't invite Schuester in. He has nothing to do with Dalton. You'll be safe again."

Blaine shook him off. "And the cameras?"

"You know I didn't know about that."

"Exactly!" They weren't close, but he thought well of Wes, trusted him, until he let Sebastian onto the council to control Blaine's life and let Hunter have enough rein to steal into Blaine's room and invade his privacy. He didn't think of Dalton as safe anymore. He wasn't going to pretend to be fine and let Wes lead him away.

Wes's dark eyes softened in the way that led Blaine to think Wes did care about him even if they weren't quite friends. "I'll fire Hunter. I'll kick Sebastian back off the council. You don't have to do anything extreme." He touched gently again at Blaine's arm and Blaine batted him away.

"We'll go back to the cab, and then we'll go back to Dalton." Wes placated. "It's for the best."

Blaine shook his head and refused to budge. Even when Kurt approached. Wes lingered next to Blaine, who continued to push away attempts to help him up. Sebastian and Hunter hovered, unsure what to do and afraid to touch him.

"The part's yours again," Wes said louder to Kurt, stepping away from Blaine's crumpled form he couldn't do anything about. "Blaine doesn't want it anymore. Do what you will with it."

Kurt tilted his chin high, his eyes sliding over Blaine but not connecting. "That doesn't sound like Blaine. That sounds like someone with conflicting interests. Like you."

Blaine laughed at Kurt defending Blaine's right tohisrole and it came out a wet choking sob. Kurt's protective streak still applied to him. They were both more protective of each other than they were of themselves.

"You know how to win it back by now. If it's worth it to you. I can't stop you. I can't help what any of you decide to do. Kurt . . ." His voice was thick with tears and half-obscured by his struggle to breathe. He looked hideous when he broke down like this. He felt Kurt's and the cast's eyes on him. Sebastian wordlessly handed him a handkerchief. "I don't want to pretend to be okay anymore. I know you want your show. Please want me more. Just be in love with me and everything will be okay."

"Why did you . . . What are you doing here?" Kurt's voice took on the breathy quality he got when uncertain.

"Saying goodbye."

"You didn't know we were going to be here." Kurt waited for someone behind him to contradict him and claim their meddling. He was met with only silence. Kurt held perfectly still save for his eyes flicking over Blaine's strewn luggage. "Where are you going?"

"California."

"For the theme parks?"

"For the theme parks," Blaine confirmed from behind the handkerchief.

"What did you do? What did Schuester do?"

Blaine looked up at Kurt for some sort of absolution.

At that moment Kurt's phone sounded with the blaring ringtone of Rhianna's "Take a Bow" they all knew he used for only one person. Kurt looked anyway. The caller ID flashed "Will Schuester."

***

Kurt thought he'd be over the disbelief stage by this point. Anger ran concurrently, but if anything, disbelief grew stronger. Blaine had that desire to perform but he always put Kurt first. Kurt chose the show but the Blaine he knew wouldn't do the same. Two days ago, Blaine asked Kurt to run away with him: that had to mean something and a tactic to get Kurt out of the way didn't fit. Whatever Blaine wanted to run from –whatever the Warblers were discussing that he didn't understand – it was bad enough for Blaine to refuse to discuss. It had to explain everything that happened since that he couldn't make sense of.

When Blaine looked up his eyes were wild and wet and Kurt's breath caught in his throat. He couldn't stand seeing Blaine in pain. He had conditions. Newly forming conditions that stipulated what kind of tears and sacrifices were acceptable and what were not. He didn't understand everything that happened – not yet – but he knew that much.

He hung up the phone and tossed it down the aisle.

Even after all the doubt of the past 24 hours, he couldn't refuse to trust Blaine. The man in front of him felt right. Pieces that didn't make sense before fit into place. Manipulative Blaine he could barely fathom but Blaine in over his head and making rash choices Kurt could see all too clearly.

Kurt winced at the costume pins digging in as he knelt in front of Blaine. He reached tentatively for Blaine's bent knee to pet or soothe or get Blaine to look at him. Blaine accepted the gesture immediately and Kurt staggered under the force of Blaine's grasp as "Kurt"s and "I'm sorry"s and tears were pressed into him. Kurt held on tightly. He pet the wild curls.

"I love you. You're okay. I love you." Kurt stroked his curls. "It'll be alright."

"I ruin everything I touch."

A small smile tugged on Kurt's lips at the thought of being ruined by Blaine. He didn't have that kind of power over him. Miserable without him, definitely. But not ruined. Blaine back in his arms was such a relief. "I love you," Kurt repeated into his curls. After everything that went wrong, Blaine felt right.

"It's just mistake after mistake after mistake."

"It took me months to convince Will I wasn't worth his time," Kurt tutted fondly to calm him, pulling back enough to watch Blaine's face. "You must've done something right."

Blaine's lips twisted in a not-quite smile – at least not a pleasant one – that morphed into a cough. "I developed some efficiencies."

"I always thought you were talented." Kurt took his scratched up hands. He rubbed his thumb over Blaine's knuckles soothingly. He could guess where the marks came from and he added them to the list of reasons why he hated Will Schuester to work past later. "I should've known. Why didn't you tell me the truth?"

"You don't know what it is." He closed his eyes tight as Kurt kissed his bent head. "I wasn't supposed to ruin your show. Just him."

"I should have picked you." He shouldn't have had to choose. Shouldn't have gone near someone like Schuester. Shouldn't have let him near Blaine either. "I'm the idiot who signed it all away."

"Just the script, not the songs!" Brittany reminded.

Tina held her hand over her heart at Kurt and Blaine leaning into each other on the stage floor. "I have no ideawhat's going on with you two but I hope I think it's romantic when you explain yourselves."

"And you said on one else would get invested," Rachel scoffed.

The words tugged at Kurt's memory. "That script belongs to Blaine."

Blaine sniffed and pressed closer to Kurt. "Just the silly version. Not the one that matters."

Artie looked between them incredulously. "Hold up. The one thing we need is a script, you're sitting on a second version, and no one thinks this is the solution to our problems? If the script's different we can actually usethe footage we came here to get instead of just watching it among ourselves and reminiscing the next time we're drunk at The Single Ladies'."

"I don't have it," Kurt snipped back.

"I do." Blaine's response was barely audible, said just to Kurt. His breath was still shaky.

"You packed it?"

"Of course I packed it. I couldn't leave it."

Kurt glanced again at the luggage and wondered what percent of Blaine's suitcases were filled with keepsakes of no value to anyone else. "Blaine. Honey. Are you okay if we use your script instead?"

"You think it's embarrassing." He leaned deeper into Kurt's shoulder.

"I said soul-baring.Maybe that's what we need." He could use a reminder of every romantic thought he wrote down about Blaine.

"You know I can never tell you no."

Kurt thought he was the only one in their relationship who knew that. "Please do if you want to. We'll figure something else out if we need to."

Blaine shook his head. "There are some words in there I think it'll be nice to hear."

Kurt helped him open the luggage he collided with and pull the script out of its safe space tucked deep inside. "Make sure you take the, um, the sex scene out of the script," Kurt whispered urgently. "No need for anyone to see that embarrassment."

The hard-earned calmness in Blaine's demeanor vanished. "Kurt, about that..."

"No need to say a word," Hunter interrupted. "I'll take care of it."

"No, Kurt, I need to tell you everything. I'm not going to act like it doesn't matter."

Kurt glared up at Hunter for the role he assumed Hunter played in Blaine's urgent need to confess something. Whatever Hunter just offered to cover up. "We have all night. You can tell me anything you want."

"Brittany, you can give Hunter the camera." Blaine leveled his own severe look at Hunter and the camera as he let Kurt help him to his feet. "I hear you know how to work one of these."

Brittany recovered her camcorder and a tripod from her bag in the front row. Blaine moved his luggage out of the way with Kurt's help. Brittany turned on the lights and taught Wes quickly how to run them. Sebastian agreed to help with scene transitions. The night turned into something of an indulgent talent show, opening and closing night combined into what looked more like a table read as they relied on an unfamiliar, shared script with Artie occasionally trying to rein them in to fit his artistic vision. The Warblers made an inexperienced but surprisingly willing crew, each of them seeming happy to make something up to Blaine. Not having an audience has never stopped them before.

The sun started to rise by the time they left the theatre.

***

Kurt pressed as close to Blaine as possible on their subway ride to the airport. For once he didn't seem to care about the opinions of their fellow passengers, and Blaine wasn't about to remind him that he usually wouldn't allow this. They alternated squeezing hands to remind each other they were there.

"We should make a plan," Blaine murmured against Kurt's crown.He rubbed his thumb along the sleeve of the cardigan Kurt borrowed from him so he could leave his sweat-soaked costume behind.

"You're leaving." Kurt hadn't asked him not too, which was very good of him, because Blaine intended to practice saying no but his exhaustion was liable to beat his resolve.

"Not forever, I don't think." The desire to fly didn't disappear completely by starting to patch up his relationship with Kurt. He still wanted to breathe free for a while, somewhere new and different that felt like a clean start so when he came back his old life would feel far away and he'd have no choice but to move on. "You could come."

"I'd like to get things in order here." He didn't doubt that Kurt would be well into a new script by the next time Blaine saw him.

"And when I come back?"

"We'll be honest with each other. Completely. About everything we want from this relationship. Or don't want."

"And I'll find something to do with my life that's appropriately obscure. Maybe I could become a singing waiter."

Kurt laughed. "Not if you like my current waistline. How about really artistic movies that no one sees?"

"Try out exclusively for flops." Kurt had stories about plenty of unusual casting calls that he went out for.

"Do voice acting."

"For anime, or other foreign films. Not much glory in dubbing over someone else, right?"

"Cirque du soleil," Kurt said dreamily.

"You want to do cirque du soleil."

"Go on a national tour."

"I don't want to go anywhere." Blaine laughed at the ridiculousness of his statement as they got ready to exit the air train to JFK. "After this. I want to feel like I can stay."

"I want that too."

Kurt held out the bag he carried for Blaine and Pavarotti's birdcage once inside the airport.

Blaine took the bag but hesitated on the cage. "Hold onto him for me?"

"You'll have to come back for him."

"I'll have to come back," Blaine agreed.

Kurt looked at the tiny creature in his care hesitantly.

"Kurt, I have had that bird since I was 17 and he's been fine. I don't think you have to worry about killing him."

Kurt didn't seem convinced but he nodded. Kurt gently set down the cage before flinging his arms around Blaine. "Hurry back."

***

Kurt had his former agent call Cooper's agent, and the conversation explaining why Kurt really did need Cooper Anderson's phone number or address – yes, the Cooper Anderson – at this early hour gave away enough of Kurt's troubles for Sue to demand he stop by her office and discuss damage control, his reminder that they didn't work together anymore lost on her.

"Don't question me. Say 'thank you, Sue.'"

It was close enough to a memory of Schuester dictating how he should express his gratitude that he paused before sniffing, "don't tell me what to do."

Sue required a lot more than borderline-rudeness to be fazed. "Come to my office," she repeated. "Bring your script. Bring the little disaster too, if you'd like. He sounds like a challenge. More so than you, even."

He gave her a copy of his script at least once a month for at least the past year; her office should be littered with versions, no doubt unread. How much she's humoring him in the request he can only guess. He set aside a copy of Blaine's version and told her maybe she could meet Blaine if he came back.

He texted Cooper's phone number to Blaine and waited for him to land.

***

Blaine made his trip to California and came back with a tan and lighter heart. He visited a theme park and resisted joining the cast. He found Cooper. He expected his brother to be indifferent to him after so much time or resent the obligation to take care of his little brother like he had when they were kids, but Cooper wouldn't let Blaine out of his sight. He wouldn't have taken so long if he knew he/d be welcomed back like this. It didn't take Blaine long at all to realize he was ready to return to his home in New York either.

Wes was more from the Kurt Hummel School of Theory when it came to touching but when he offered his hand upon Blaine's return Blaine pulled him into a hug. "Thank you." He decided to leave the thank you unspecific. Five years was a long time to build up reasons even if he was glad to officially move on.

Wes tensed for a moment before wrapping his arms around Blaine. "Don't be a stranger. Thad will disapprove."

"Right. Thad. Thad's the one who'll miss me." Giddiness washed over him. His trip to California proved that every time he left somewhere didn't mean he could never come back. He could move on and still be able to look back. He could visit. He'd have to visit if he wanted to see them: he didn't have any pictures to remember his time with the Warblers by. Wes probably liked it best that way.

"That's what I said. Probably not the only one, though. Let us know when you're ready to go. The Warblers will want to arrange a goodbye."

Blaine didn't expect the arrangement to be musical. Or for them to have learned how to sing a capella so they could do it without him. They treated him to a soulful version of Thank You For the Music. Blaine held a hand over his heart, boxes at his feet, throughout their performance, and then they helped him out the door.

***

Will and Kurt sorting out their financial entanglements was as messy as an actual break-up. They agreed that neither one would try to incriminate the other when the news broke that the workshop was on hold indefinitely due to "creative differences." Kurt included Blaine in that deal and then apologized profusely to Blaine for making the decision on his behalf. Blaine shrugged it off.

The finale from Pippinwhen all the magic disappeared played on a loop inside Kurt's head as they packed the costumes back up; the alterations were Kurt's but they couldn't be separated from the original material. Will had no more use for costumes that fit Kurt's friends than he did for half a script he clung stubbornly to saying was his now, so the costumes went into storage along with the sets until Kurt had a chance to try a buy them off Will. The bittersweet tune of the song didn't bring Kurt down. A deal with Will Schuester – a deal knowing everything he did – probably made the metaphorical equivalent of lighting himself on fire. Good on him for avoiding it, as far as he was concerned, and good on his friends for helping to stop him. If he wanted magic and miracles, he could count on his friends and Blaine.

Blaine gathered up scattered copies of the sheet music. He smoothed out the bent pages and handed them back to Kurt. "Its time will come. So will yours."

"Once I do the rewrites," Kurt agreed. The show belonged on a stage with a little more justice done to it than a quick read through in one night with scripts in hand. Brittany edited the recording saying she knew a thing or two about making a viral video. Santana followed closely to make sure there was no nudity to help the hit count. They hadn't figured out what to do with the video yet but it existed. Kurt had scheduled a meeting with a producer: Sue Sylvester sent Kurt some names around the time she demand once again to meet Blaine "to see what all the fuss was about." Kurt and Blaine and the potential producer had spoken over the phone already when the producer asked what the revised version would be about.

"It's about love," Kurt said at the exact same time Blaine said, "It's about ambition."

"Well," Kurt said with a shy tip of his chin, "that's a kind of love story." Blaine beamed through the rest of the interview.

He'd tell the rest of the cast soon, once they wrapped up everything with this version. Kurt was a big believer in getting goodbyes right first.

Kurt took one last look across the empty stage. Blaine taped the last box shut. "That's the end. You didn't get what you wanted. Does it feel like it was all a waste?"

"Of course not, dummy."

Kurt entwined their hands and they walked out of the theatre together.