Blaine didn't remember finishing up his set playing for the children at the hospital, and he didn't remember saying goodbye to Marie at the nurse's station.  He felt like he was walking on air as he headed home, not noticing for once how people pushed past him, impatient with his slow pace, or how the potholes threatened to trip him up at every crossing.  All he could think about was Kurt, who had miraculously popped back into his life.

And despite the fact that it was ridiculous to even contemplate, he let himself daydream for a minute (or twenty) about what it would be like if they got back together.  If they could have a fresh start, without the pain and the heartache that had taken them down before.  Too bad miracles didn't happen.  There was no way to erase the accident and the misery that had followed. 

Blaine thought back to what happened at the hospital, turning every moment over in his mind.  Kurt had looked shocked to see him, but not unhappy.  Of course, this was followed by Kurt actually running away – he only came back when Blaine pulled the sympathy card (but it was true, he protested to himself, he couldn't catch him).  And Blaine had been willing to just let it go, to say goodbye and get back to reality, but Kurt had asked if he could call him.  Kurt had asked, and said that he would call.  Which would be awesome.  Even if Kurt just wanted to catch up, like old friends, that would be okay.  Not as good as, well, more, but still pretty damn nice. 

No matter what had happened between them, he still missed Kurt.  He was doing fine without him, even more than fine lately, but his life certainly hadn't gone the way he had planned, or the way either of them had planned.  Blaine had been so sure that they were soulmates, meant to be together forever.  But reality rained on his silly fantasy.  He had told himself more than once over the past few years that while Kurt might have been his “teenage dream,” he had conveniently forgotten the meaning of the “dream” part of that phrase – something created by your imagination, the opposite of reality.

Blaine let himself into his empty apartment and eased himself down on the couch, rubbing his right leg.  As much as he liked to imagine it, there was no way Kurt was going to want to get involved with him again.  Kurt had made it abundantly clear when they broke up that he just couldn't handle Blaine's problems as well as those of his family – his dad and Carole, and their loss of Finn.  And Blaine understood, mostly.  He would never really know how Kurt felt, because he was fortunate enough not to have lost his mother, then his stepbrother, and then find out his dad had cancer.  It sounded like the premise of a bad soap opera.  Really, no one should have to go through such things.  But it had all happened to Kurt, and Blaine had been in such a drug and pain induced stupor that he had done next to nothing to support him. 

Blaine knew Kurt had been in a similar position.  Blaine had been in a bad place, his dreams of performing shattered with his leg, the bad news seeming to mount with every failed, painful surgery.  Blaine had needed Kurt as much as Kurt had needed him, but Kurt was grieving, and too exhausted with his family's tragedy and his dad's illness to be of much help.  Blaine figured there wasn't much point in blaming either of them, it was just something that happened.  It hurt like crazy when they decided to end it, but as time passed, Blaine had tried to convince himself that it was all for the best.  He knew in his heart of hearts that he would never actually be convinced, but hey, if anyone was the king of “fake it ‘til you make it,” it was Blaine Anderson.

“Hey dude, what's up?”  Blaine hadn't even realized Sam had come home until he landed on the couch next to him, causing Blaine to practically bounce off the edge of his seat.  “Sorry, man,” Sam laughed easily, grabbing Blaine around the waist and pulling him closer. 

“It's okay,” Blaine reassured him, resting his head on Sam's shoulder. 

“I'm wiped,” Sam exclaimed, tilting his head back against the couch dramatically.  “Every single person at the gym tonight just had to ask me a question.  The same dumb questions over and over again.  How hard can it be to adjust the weights?  There are little signs all over the place, why do they need to ask me?”  Sam complained.

“Um, because they want your attention?”  Blaine suggested.  Sam's part-time job at a nearby gym was a constant source of amusement to Blaine.  He especially liked to go work out when Sam was stationed in the weight room – not only could he get Sam to spot him, but he got to watch a large majority of the gym's patrons drool over his hunky roommate.

“Whatever.”  Sam stood up and held a hand out to Blaine.  “Are you hungry?  I was thinking about omelets.”

Blaine let Sam tug him off the couch and lead him into their tiny kitchen, which was just steps away from the couch anyway.  “Sure.”  His thoughts kept returning to his encounter with Kurt as Sam launched into a detailed story about two gym members who got into an argument about the water in the water cooler.  Apparently they were very concerned about whether the water was from New Jersey or Vermont.

Sam was cutting the tomato and cheese omelet and sliding half of it onto Blaine's plate when Blaine made up his mind.  “Sam, can I talk to you about something?” 

Sam just looked at Blaine and grinned.  “I knew you'd get around to it eventually.”

“What?”

“You had that look on your face, you know, the one where you're worrying something back and forth, but you're not ready to spit it out yet.  I knew if I just kept on babbling long enough you'd tell me when you were ready.”

Blaine considered, not for the first time, how lucky he was to have Sam as a friend.  “You know me so well,” he said, smiling.

“I do,” Sam said, smiling back.  “Blam!” he exclaimed, as Blaine met his hand for a high five.

“That never gets old, does it,” Blaine commented dryly.

“Nope, and it never will.”  Sam cut a piece of his omelet and turned back to Blaine, a tomato dangling perilously from his fork.  “Now, tell me what's got you all worked up.”

“You'll never guess who I saw at the hospital today when I was playing for the kids.”

“Probably not.  Do you want me to try?  We could play twenty questions…”

“Dork.”  Blaine decided to just spit it out, as Sam suggested, but before he could, Sam interrupted.

“You saw Kurt, didn't you?”

“Yes – how did you know?”

“Lucky guess.”  But Sam didn't look like he felt lucky.

“It's okay, Sam.  We just talked for a few minutes, it's no big deal.”

“I just don't want you to get hurt again, B.  That's all.”  Sam looked away and fidgeted with his water glass.  “Next thing you know you'll be imagining getting back together, and planning another proposal.”  When Blaine blushed in response, Sam nodded.  “See?  Like you said, I know you.  And for better or worse, I know Kurt too.  You already broke up twice, what makes you think it could work this time?”

“Third time's a charm?”  Blaine said lightly.  Sam was protective of him, he knew, and he loved him for it.  But he had no idea if anything was going to happen between him and Kurt now.  Maybe that's what Sam was worried about.  “Sam, I doubt anything will come of this.  But I still miss him, I can't help it.  It's weird that we haven't talked in so long.  It can't be a bad thing to reconnect.  Maybe Kurt and I can just be friends.”

“You forget, I know how that went last time too,” Sam said, shaking his head.

“I know you don't want to have to deal with me if things go badly,” Blaine began.

“Deal with you?” Sam rarely got angry with Blaine, but he was getting close.  “That is so not the issue!  After you guys broke off the engagement, you were a frigging ghost!  You were fading away!  You could barely carry on a conversation.  Do you think I spent all that time watching Buffy with you because I thought Spike was cute?”

“No, but you certainly enjoyed watching Buffy kick ass,” Blaine mumbled, trying to cut off Sam's rant.

“Not the point!”  Sam yelled again, standing up and grabbing their plates, barely restraining himself from tossing them violently into the sink.  Blaine pushed himself to his feet and moved over to Sam, placing a hand on his back as Sam pointedly stared at the faucet. After a minute Sam took a deep breath and turned to gaze directly at Blaine.  “I never want to see that happen to you again, Blaine.  Not because it's hard for me, but because of how hard it was for you.”

“I know, Sam.  I didn't mean to imply that.”  Blaine pulled him into a hug, holding him tightly and rubbing his shoulders.  “But how I was back then, that wasn't Kurt's fault.” 

“What do you mean?”

Blaine wrapped his hand around Sam's bicep and gave a tug towards the living room.  “Come sit down with me for a minute.”

They settled themselves back on the couch.  “You were back in Kentucky with your family for a while after the accident, right?”

“Yeah,” Sam agreed, looking confused.

“And you really didn't see me for months, not until after Christmas, when you came back to Lima, and Kurt and I had already broken up?”

Sam nodded.

“I was miserable before we broke up, Sam.  Completely, utterly, totally miserable. My leg was fucked up beyond belief, my doctor said I might never walk again, and I was in pain all the time – either that or so doped up I could hardly remember my name.  My break-up with Kurt was a result of that, at least in part.  It didn't cause it.”

Sam didn't look convinced.  “You want me to believe that you weren't wrecked about breaking up with Kurt, your soulmate?  It didn't hurt to lose the lighthouse and the artist's colony all over again?”

“I can't believe I ever told you about that,” Blaine said, smiling softly at his friend.  “You must think I'm such a sap.”

“I know it,” Sam said, smiling.  “And I love you for it.  I love sweet things, too, remember?”

“I do.”  Blaine sighed and bumped Sam's arm with his fist.  “It hurt like hell to break up with Kurt, no question.  But that isn't what made me so depressed after the accident.  And I'd like to think that I'm strong enough now, healthy enough, to survive talking to him again.”

Sam gave him a quizzical look.  “You sure?  Talking with Kurt can be pretty challenging.”

“I'm sure.  I think we could probably even risk coffee.”  Blaine smiled as Sam laughed.  “But, Sam?” Blaine asked, settling against Sam's side and leaning his head in its accustomed place on Sam's shoulder.

“Yeah?”

“Thank you for looking out for me.” 

“That's what we do, right?”  Sam held his hand up, but Blaine's eyes were closed and he didn't see it.  Blaine snorted as he felt Sam pick up his hand and hold it up, giving him another high five.  “Blam,” Sam said quietly, snuggling down next to Blaine and pulling a throw blanket over on top of them.  “One episode of Buffy before bed?”

“I thought you didn't want to watch Buffy,” Blaine mumbled, tucking his feet up under the blanket.

“It's late and we're tired.  Buffy is perfect.  It's short and funny,” Sam said.

“Don't you dare….”

“Like you!” Sam crowed.

“Dork.”  Blaine closed his eyes and dozed as the theme music for Buffy began.  It had been a good day, and the way things were going, he was looking forward to tomorrow.