It was weird, Kurt thought, how much he had gotten over never seeing or talking to Carson anymore. The intense pain in his heart had slowly but surely settled into a dull ache, and he found that he was able to function more or less normally now. At least, he thought that was true. Sure, he still cried when he woke up in the middle of the night, burying his face in the fabric of his boyfriend pillow and inhaling Carson's familiar scent. Sure, his heart gave a little hopeful leap every time he saw a guy on the street wearing a blue hoodie, only to crash, disappointed, back down to earth when he realized that no, it wasn't Carson. Sure, he had almost completely stopped texting Carson every day because every ignored message was a fresh wound on his heart. And sure, he had yelled at Rachel to leave him alone when she insisted on asking him why he wasn't taking the opportunity to date Adam, but that didn't mean that he wasn't recovering, right?

"Kurt, he's handsome and British and he's, like, super in love with you," she'd insisted one morning as she put on her makeup in the bathroom mirror while Kurt brushed his teeth. "I don't understand why you're not taking advantage of this. I would, if I were you."

"God, Rachel, will you just leave me the hell alone?" Kurt snapped, aggressively spitting his toothpaste into the sink and reinserting his brush into his mouth to attack his teeth with frustration. "I know he likes me, ok? I'm not a complete idiot. I'm just... I'm not interested. Not in that kind of relationship."

Rachel rolled her eyes as she uncapped her lipstick. "Jesus, Kurt, are you still that hung up on Blaine? It's been a long time. Get over him and move on. He's a cheater and never deserved you anyway. And, if I may say so, I know from experience that he wasn't that great of a kisser."

Kurt spit into the sink one more time and carefully placed his toothbrush back into its holder. "Why don't you butt out of my love life, Rachel?" he said sullenly. "You don't understand shit, so just butt out and worry about your own relationship with that weird naked boyfriend of yours, ok?"

Of course he knew that Adam was interested in him. It was kind of hard to miss, what with the way the older guy was constantly showering him with compliments, many of which were about his eyes, or his "breathtaking" singing voice, as Adam called it. And Kurt hadn't missed the slight blush that crept across Adam's face whenever he complimented Kurt's dance technique. Under ordinary circumstances, in an ordinary universe in which he was an ordinary person, Kurt had to admit that he probably would have gone for it. Adam was cute and sweet and had an excellent sense of humor, after all, and who wouldn't want to give that a chance?

But Kurt wasn't ordinary, and this wasn't an ordinary universe with ordinary circumstances. This was the universe where Kurt was still hopelessly in love with his twin brother. This was the universe where he and Carson had shared and been through so much together, and where Carson had just broken up with him without warning or satisfactory explanation. This was the universe where Kurt's heart was still hurting, even if it was getting less and less excruciatingly painful with each passing day, and where he had no outlet to express his feelings and had to just let everyone assume that he was depressed over Blaine, of all people. This was a universe where Kurt's heart might never stop hurting completely. Not enough to fully move on. So therefore, this was the universe where he kept Adam at a safe, friendly distance and made sure that it was clear that he wasn't interested in anything more than platonic friendship.

The fact that Santana was now living in the Bushwick loft with him, Rachel, and Brody wasn't exactly helping. She had just shown up one day out of the blue, knocking on the apartment door and announcing that she was moving in as soon as Kurt opened it.

"What the hell do you mean, you're moving in?" Rachel had asked sharply as Kurt gaped incredulously, at a loss for words.

"Are you going deaf from all your caterwauling in your singing classes, Berry?" Santana asked with a roll of her eyes as she dropped her suitcase on the ground and looked around the apartment curiously. "I meant exactly what I said. I'm here in New York now, and I'm moving in with you. And let me tell you, you'll be lucky to have me. I keep it real and I tell it like it is. And my first order of business is to tell you that you're wearing entirely too much makeup and maybe you should stop applying it with a butter knife."

Kurt covered up his snort with a cough as Rachel glared at Santana with crossed arms. "You can't just move in," she said haughtily.

"Why not?" Kurt asked. "You invited Naked Boy to live here without asking me."

"Yeah, and your jerk of a brother lived here with us for months and no one consulted me," Rachel retorted. "So I think we're even."

"Where else is she going to go?" Kurt pressed, wanting to drop the subject of Carson as quickly as possible, even though he was just itching to punch Rachel in the face. "Come on. She's our friend and I assume she's homeless at the moment." He wasn't sure why he was pressing the issue so hard, or why he even cared whether or not Santana had anywhere to go, but he did and he was.

Rachel sighed, rolling her eyes and shaking her head. "Whatever."

"Great," said Santana with a grin. "Guess I'll just go scope out which corner of dirt and grime I prefer to use as my bedroom."

In hindsight, Kurt now regretted being quite so hasty in his insistence that Santana be allowed to stay, because not only did he never have any time alone to hear himself think anymore, but he could tell that she had definitely sensed that something wasn't right with his and Carson's relationship, although he was pretty sure that she didn't yet suspect that they were broken up.

"The hell have you been doing in bed all day?" she'd asked on Valentine's Day, which Kurt had indeed spent a good portion of in bed, pretending to be fighting a cold when he really was just so depressed and alone without Carson that he was sure he would die of sadness. "Shouldn't you be having hot Skype sex with your sweet twin lover?"

"Go away," Kurt muttered, his face buried in a pillow as he tried to sound sick.

"Do you know why he never answers my calls?" she pressed. "I keep trying to get up with him and see how he's doing, but he's being a total bitch and ignoring me. Is he ok? I mean, he's recovering from the lightning and stuff, right?"

"He's fine, Santana. I... I'm sure he's just busy. Can you just go away?" Kurt snapped, sounding a lot harsher than he meant to. "I just... my head really hurts today, ok?"

"Jeez, fine," Santana replied. "Whatever. You're a cranky sick person, you know that?"

"Go away!" Kurt exclaimed. Like I know why he's ignoring you? I'm still trying to figure out why he's ignoring ME. What I could have possibly done wrong to make him hate me so much that he doesn't even want to act like my brother anymore. When you figure that out, why don't you tell me. Because I'd really love to know.

Ok, maybe he wasn't recovering as well as he thought he was.

While Kurt was dealing with the separation in his own way, Carson was dealing with it in his. Namely, he was so engrossed in his daily schedule of class work and taking care of Kurtsie Kitty that he barely had time to actually sit and focus on his anxiety, or his crippling depression, or on the fact that his heart was in shambles now that Kurt was no longer texting him daily. The care of Kurtsie Kitty alone was demanding much of his focus and concentration. The workers at the animal shelter hadn't been kidding when they explained to him that raising an orphaned kitten so young was an immense amount of work. Carson thanked his lucky stars that he had been on spring break when he got the kitten, because Kurtsie Kitty had needed to be fed and burped every two hours at first, almost like an actual human baby. And Carson was diligent with it. He had been trusted with that delicate little life, and damn it, if he did nothing else right, he was going to see to it that he didn't fuck this up.

"You're such a bottomless pit," he was fond of crooning at Kurtsie Kitty at every feeding as he watched the tiny cat practically eat his own weight in formula. For such a small creature, he ate much more than Carson expected him to. "Where the fuck do you put it all?" he asked Kurtsie Kitty more than once as he tapped gently on the kitten's back to elicit a burp. "You must have one hell of a metabolism."

He had skipped the entire next week of classes, feigning illness in order to ensure that he was around to keep Kurtsie Kitty on his feeding schedule, since he didn't know anyone well enough to hand the reigns over to them for a few hours. He wasn't about to ask Mrs. Moore. She probably would have asked for some weird, kinky sex to compensate for her time. The only time he left the apartment was for his sessions with Dr. McNeil, at which, he thought, he was becoming quite an expert at pretending to be normal. Or at least, he hoped so. He doubted that Dr. McNeil actually bought into his act, but he was very careful to stick to his personal rules during each session. Only say what's necessary. Don't answer any questions about Kurt. Focus on Kurtsie Kitty and talk about him.

"Have you given any thought to what I've been suggesting?" Dr. McNeil asked during one particularly pushy session. "About calling your brother? You still haven't told me why you're not as close as you used to be."

Carson held himself back from rolling his eyes, although it was really very difficult. Yeah, lady, I've thought about it alright. Even came close to it once, until it started fucking thundering out and I lost the nerve, because I suddenly remembered why it was that I broke up with him in the first place. Oh, did I mention that? That we used to be lovers? And that the entire reason we don't speak is because I have to keep him at a distance for his own good, because being involved with me... that isn't going to do him any favors. Because I'm basically a blight on the face of the world, and he can do better. I think he IS doing better. That Adam guy seems nice. I guess. At least he's not Blaine. Or me. The only thing I'm good for anymore is taking care of Kurtsie Kitty, and thank God for him, because otherwise I would spend whole days in bed and not care whether or not I wake up the next time I fall asleep.

"I've been too busy," he replied, taking a deep breath and letting it out slowly. "My cat, you see. He takes up a lot of my focus."

"Yes, your cat. How is Chris doing?" she asked. He had told her he named the kitten Chris, the first name that had come to his mind when she had asked, because he didn't even want to know what she would say if he told her his real name. This way he was saved from having to talk about Kurt more.

"Ku... Chris... is doing great," he answered brightly. "He can really eat. He's almost up to normal kitten size, I think. Or he will be, soon. He's thriving."

"Good," replied Dr. McNeil. "I knew a pet would help alleviate some of your focus on your anxiety. Have you had an attack lately?"

"No, but then again, it hasn't rained lately," Carson replied dryly. "Talk to me when we have a freak thunderstorm. If I can even talk, that is. I might be too busy hiding under my covers with a racing heartbeat."

"Well, I..." Dr. McNeil started to say, but Carson cut her off.

"I should get going. It's almost time for K... for Chris' next feeding, and I don't want to be late," he said, getting up and shoving his hands into the pockets of his hoodie. "And besides, my session time is up. I'd love to stay and chat, but, you know. Responsibilities." He turned around and rushed out of the office before the doctor could protest and hurried home, where he let himself into his apartment and leaned against the door for a second to close his eyes and catch his breath. Kurtsie Kitty had apparently been waiting patiently for him, because Carson felt claws digging into the leg of his jeans as the kitten valiantly attempted to climb up him in greeting.

"Hey, little guy," he said sweetly, looking down and stifling a giggle when Kurtsie Kitty didn't quite have the strength required to make it much past Carson's knee before taking a clumsy tumble. "Miss me? You're probably hungry by now. Give me just a second, and then you can eat." He headed to the kitchen, getting out his supplies and preparing Kurtsie Kitty's food, adding a tiny bit of plain yogurt to the formula the way he had learned the kitten loved.

"Ok, bitty kitty, here we go," he said as he settled himself down on the couch and Kurtsie Kitty in his lap, wrapped in his special feeding blanket. He gently nudged the bottle nipple into the kitten's mouth and watched as Kurtsie Kitty eagerly sucked down his fill of formula.

"If I didn't know you weren't going to grow past a certain size, I would say you'd be a Godzilla Kitty pretty soon, with the amount you eat," Carson said, shaking his head fondly as Kurtsie Kitty finally had enough and rejected the nipple. "Seriously, do you have, like, an endless amount of room in that tummy of yours?" He gently tapped Kurtsie Kitty on the back until he burped before setting out to clean up. He put the formula away and carefully cleaned the bottle and nipple before heading off to his bedroom with a sigh, changing into his pajamas and climbing between the covers even though it was still only early afternoon. He heard the telltale scratching noise soon that indicated that Kurtsie Kitty was trying to climb up on the bed via his claws and the comforter.

"Come on, sweet boy," Carson said with a smile, leaning down and scooping Kurtsie Kitty up in his hand. The kitten had his own little bed that Carson had set up for him, but he had quickly learned that Kurtsie Kitty greatly preferred sleeping in Carson's. Specifically, he preferred sleeping on Carson's chest, which was where he was currently settling himself. Carson hadn't even bothered to insist that he sleep in his own bed. If he wanted Carson's chest to be his bed, then he could feel free to have it.

"You're a spoiled little kitty," he said softly, using the pad of one finger to softly pet at Kurtsie Kitty's head. "But you're cute, and I love you." He settled his head back against his pillows and sighed, wondering what Kurt was doing right now. He was probably in some class at NYADA, Carson guessed. Or maybe studying in the park with that Adam guy. Certainly he wasn't giving Carson a second thought. Which was good, right? That was what Carson wanted, wasn't it?

Not really, he thought with a sigh, focusing his eyes on the ball of ginger colored fluff resting on his chest. I don't WANT this, but I know it's for everyone's own good.

I hope.

He spent much of the next day eyeballs deep in books, trying to catch up on the remainder of the work he had to have done by the time he returned to classes on Monday. Kurtsie Kitty would be old enough by then to only be fed every eight hours, and there would be no need for Carson to be around all the time. He wondered if it was stupid of him to feel a pang of sadness at the thought, as though Kurtsie Kitty was his actual baby who was growing up and didn't need him anymore.

What the fuck is wrong with me? he mused as he tapped his pencil against his book. Kurtsie Kitty is a CAT. He'll just be at the age where he doesn't need to be monitored constantly, that's all. He'll still need me. How about I stop being such a stupid asshole and focus on my schoolwork? He sighed and returned his focus to his book. Or tried to, anyway. It was sort of hard to concentrate when Kurtsie Kitty was using him as a giant climbing post at the moment, digging his claws into the sleeve of Carson's hoodie and climbing up him. He walked right along Carson's chest, losing his balance a bit and tumbling right onto the pages of the open textbook, where he looked up at him with an expression that Carson was pretty sure meant "Shut up, it's not funny."

"It's kind of funny, little guy," Carson said with amusement as he scooped Kurtsie Kitty up and plopped him back onto his chest. "But you can't stay on my book, ok? I need to study."

Kurtsie Kitty stayed put, curling up in a ball and making himself comfortable while Carson went back to his book. He became so absorbed in his studying that he almost didn't notice the beginning of the rain, the gentle drizzling of drops against his window completely escaping his attention. That is, until it began to pick up.

"Fuuuuuck," Carson whined, slamming his book closed and swiftly but gently removing Kurtsie Kitty from his chest as it began to tighten. "Shit, shit, shit..." He struggled to breathe, wishing that he had remembered to keep his bottle of anxiety pills by his bed. He'd known that it was supposed to rain today, how could he be so stupid?

Ok... you're ok... just breathe... he told himself as he stumbled out of bed and into the bathroom, fumbling desperately for the bottle he kept in the medicine cabinet. His fingers closed around it as his breath continued to shorten and his heart raced in his chest. You're ok, it's just some fucking rain, it's just...

The sudden sound of thunder caused him to drop the pill bottle and slump immediately to the floor, holding his hands over his ears and rocking back and forth with his eyes closed. "Stop... please stop," he pleaded to no one in a shaking voice. "Please." He let a few tears fall, grateful that no one was around to see them as he curled into himself. "Stooooop."

He felt something warm and rough sliding across his hand and he opened his eyes to see Kurtsie Kitty sitting next to him, licking delicately at his hand, as if trying to comfort him. "Oh god... I'm ok, little guy," he whispered, trying to convince himself as much as the cat that this was the truth. "I'll be ok." Actually, he did feel slightly calmer as he sat back up. Kurtsie Kitty stopped licking him and climbed up into his lap as Carson shakily reached for his pill bottle, grasping it and quickly pouring a pill out into his hand, which he dry swallowed as he began softly petting the kitten.

"I'll be ok, kitty," he whispered, letting the soft fuzz of Kurtsie Kitty's fur under his fingers calm him down. "I hope. See, this is exactly why I can't be with the human Kurtsie anymore. Because he shouldn't have to deal with me like this. Actually, you shouldn't, either. But I guess since you're a cat you don't really understand these things anyway, so... I'm sorry, I have no idea what I'm even talking about. All I know is that if I keep talking, I know I'm still alive."

A second clap of thunder caused him to stop talking and scoop Kurtsie Kitty up into his hands, holding him up to his cheek and rubbing the soft fur against the skin there. "Take this life advice from me, Kurtsie Kitty. The rain sucks."

And so do I.

Kurt gazed out the window, not really in the mood to pay attention to the television that was droning on in front of him. It had been a trying day so far. NYADA had cancelled all classes due to the unusually vicious rain storm raging outside, and that had left Kurt and Rachel (and Adam, who had come over early to consult with Kurt on costumes for a new Apples performance) stuck inside the loft with nowhere to go and nothing to do. Santana, who obviously couldn't go anywhere either, had spent the day so far pushing everyone's buttons, particularly Rachel's, and quite frankly, Kurt was sick to death of hearing them fight. Although, he supposed, it was better than dealing with her aggressively asking him questions about Carson.

She was definitely suspicious now that something was up, and it was partly his own fault. He'd had a sleepwalking episode several nights prior, which he'd been completely unaware was happening until he had been rudely awakened by a blood curdling scream coming from right next to him.

"Hummel, WHAT THE FUCK?" he'd heard as he let out his own startled scream and his eyes snapped open, slowly taking in the fact that he was not in bed, but sitting ramrod straight on the couch, next to Santana, who was the source of the screaming.

"I... what..." he mumbled stupidly, blinking and trying to wake up and simultaneously bring his heartbeat down from the quickened pace that all the screaming had caused it to reach.

"What do you mean, what? I fall asleep on the couch, I wake up, and you're just sitting there staring at me like some kind of freak," Santana said, crossing her arms and glaring at him. "You scared the shit out of me. What, do you sleepwalk or something?"

"I... yeah, I do," he mumbled, pinching the bridge of his nose. "When I'm really stressed, I just..."

"What the hell is all the screaming about?" asked Rachel, stomping angrily out into the living room with crossed arms. "Brody has an audition in the morning and you're going to wake him up if you don't shut up!"

"Oh, heaven forbid we wake precious Brody," Santana replied sarcastically, rolling her eyes. "Go back to bed, Berry, everything's fine."

Rachel grunted and stalked back to her room, and Santana turned her attention back to Kurt.

"So," she said. "You sleepwalk when you're stressed. Anything in particular you're stressed about?"

"No," Kurt answered quickly, getting up from the couch and turning to walk away from her.

"Really? 'Cause I'm finding it awfully suspicious that I haven't heard a damn thing from Carson in... what... I don't know, months, and from the looks of it, it seems like you haven't either," she said. "What the hell is going on? And why all of a sudden are you spending every waking moment hanging out with Doctor Who?"

"I do not spend every waking moment with Adam," Kurt replied. "And it's none of your business who I hang out with, anyway, so good night." He'd stalked off to bed, knowing full well that now that Santana had a solid suspicion, it was only a matter of time before she gave him more hell for it. And apparently, that day was today, because with nothing else to do, she had taken to dropping hints about Carson to him in front of Adam, who only looked confused as Kurt shot Santana death glares that meant "Shut the fuck up."

Thankfully, she had seemed to drop it when he turned the television on and suggested that they all channel surf for a while and see if anything interesting was on. Nothing was, but they'd settled on a channel that was playing an Elvis movie marathon. At the moment, it was on Blue Hawaii and Kurt wasn't paying a bit of attention. He was too busy looking out the drizzly, rainy window and trying not to remember the night of the lightning strike, which he tended to do every time it rained. Usually he had a distraction to help him through it, either school or work. Not today. Today he was being hit full on with memories and feelings. Well, fuck my life.

He was so busy staring at the rain and not paying a speck of attention to the movie that he almost didn't even notice when music started up on the screen, a slightly familiar melody coming from a music box. He didn't recognize it until Elvis began to sing along to the melody, and suddenly a wall of emotions was hitting him right in the face.

Wise men say only fools rush in
But I can't help falling in love with you...

Kurt's head was suddenly flooded with the memory of slow dancing with Carson. Of being held in his arms and of feeling so safe and at peace, knowing that they were going to make love and that they would be together forever. He remembered the feel of Carson's hands on him, and the feeling of being more in love with him than he'd ever felt before. He remembered silently planning to use that very song at their wedding, as if they could ever have a proper one. He remembered wanting to express in words just how much he loved this man, but not quite being able to.

"I guess this is kind of our song now," was what had come out when he opened his mouth to tell Carson how in love he was, and he remembered thinking about what an idiot he sounded like, but Carson hadn't seemed to agree with that. He'd looked enamored, and just as in love with Kurt as Kurt was with him.

What happened, Carsey? What happened to us?

"Kurt, are you crying?" Adam's voice snapped Kurt out of his daydream and he looked over at him, trying to sound cool and unruffled, even though yes, he realized, he had been crying, and Santana was looking over at him suspiciously, which he was sure wasn't helped by the fact that Adam's head was currently resting on his shoulder.

"No... no, my, um... my contacts are really bothering me right now," Kurt replied, trying to sound like just a person afflicted by terrible allergies instead of an emotional mess of a man who had just been crying over the loss of the only real love he'd ever known.

"I didn't know you wore contacts," spoke up Rachel curiously, and Kurt wanted desperately to roll his eyes and tell her to shut up.

"Yes, Rachel," he replied dryly. "I just found out that I have a slight astigmatism."

"I think I might have some solution in my bag," said Adam, reaching over the arm of the couch and beginning to root through his bag. Kurt sighed inwardly. Jesus Christ, this is getting WAY out of hand.

"No," he protested. "No, I'm fine. I'll be good. Don't... don't worry."

"I would have thought you'd been crying," spoke up Santana brightly from her seat across the living room. "It's ok to cry, you know, Kurt. That song is so beautiful. Oh, brother, is it emotional," she said pointedly, and Kurt wished looks could kill, because if they could she would have been dead on the spot. Santana, I swear to god...

"Is it, now?" he replied through gritted teeth, setting his jaw and trying desperately to give her "Shut the fuck UP!" signals.

"Yep," she continued, clearly enjoying herself as she shot a look Adam's way before turning her attention back to Kurt. "In fact, I know a couple of people for whom this song holds such a deep, personal meaning, and..."

"Who wants popcorn?" Kurt interrupted her, getting up quickly off the couch and scurrying into the kitchen as though he were on fire. He heard Santana's footsteps following him as Adam and Rachel stayed in their spots on the couch and the movie droned on.

"It's time, Hummel," Santana said in a low voice, leaning against the fridge with her arms crossed and giving him a pointed look. "The jig is up and I know that something happened between you and Carson, so you can either tell me what it is, or I can continue to snoop around until I find out. Your choice. I'm already pretty sure that James Bond over there on the couch probably had something to do with it, so-"

"Ok, look, Satan," Kurt snapped, angrily throwing a bag of popcorn into the microwave and slamming it shut before turning to glare at her as best he could when his eyes were still puffy from crying. "You don't know shit about me or Carson or our relationship, despite what you think, and you need to shut the hell up and mind your own damn business now, ok? Rachel and I are letting you live here rent free, so you should be grateful for that and keep your nose out of everyone's personal business. Rachel's been wanting to throw you out for weeks, and I swear to god, I am so close to agreeing with her." He aggressively opened the microwave and took out the popcorn bag, emptying it into a bowl and stalking out of the kitchen, leaving Santana standing there bewildered.

It was a tense few hours after that, with Kurt pointedly ignoring Santana and trying to pretend that everything was otherwise fine so as not to alert Adam or Rachel to the fact that he was desperate for the day to end. He was grateful as hell when the storm finally let up and the sun came out, prompting Adam to gather up his bag and leave the apartment with a cheerful "See you in school tomorrow, Kurt!" on his way out.

"Kurt," Santana said to him as Rachel disappeared into the bathroom and Kurt began cleaning up the mess of dishes on the coffee table. "Kurt, I-"

"Save it, Santana," Kurt snapped. "I'm really not in the mood." He stalked off to the kitchen, cleaning all the dishes as fast as he could before retreating to the cold comfort of his bedroom. He climbed between his sheets and just lay there, not bothering to change his clothes or even do his facial routine. Instead he gathered up Carsey Teddy into his arms and hugged it tightly, letting the tears he'd been bravely holding in for the entire afternoon fall and land on the bear's soft fur. He really wanted Carson right now. Even if not as a lover, he really just wanted his big brother right now to hold him and reassure him that everything was ok.

He reached onto the night table for his phone, debating whether or not to send Carson a text. He won't answer, he told himself, biting his own lip in thought. He never does. All it will do is cause you more pain.

But... maybe this time he will. Maybe. I mean... you never know until you try, right? Right?

He took a deep breath and opened his messages, spending the next fifteen minutes composing a message to his twin.

Hi, Carsey. How are you, honey? I just wanted to say that I thought about you today. I miss you so much, and I know that you probably won't answer this, but I just wanted to let you know that I still love you. I always will, no matter what. And I really miss my big brother.

I love you.

Kurtsie

He pressed the send button before he could lose his nerve, setting the phone back on the night table and waiting. He waited for two whole hours, wishing desperately for the phone to vibrate and tell him that he had a new message.

Nothing happened.

He sighed, rolling over in bed and clutching his teddy bear to his chest as he cried himself to sleep.

He dreamed of that night. The last night before Carson left for Chicago, when they made love for what had turned out to be the last time. If Kurt had known it would be their last time, he would have cherished it more. He would have slowed down every moment, every touch of skin on skin, every whisper and every moan. He saw himself kissing down the expanse of Carson's chest, paying extra attention to the vine-like lightning scar that still filled him with so much guilt, even if Carson said he liked it. He saw himself working his way down Carson's body with his lips, leaving no inch of skin untouched or unworshiped. He saw himself clasping their hands together as he wrapped his lips around Carson's arousal, lavishng attention on it just as he had the rest of his lover's body. He could hear every moan, every little sigh of pleasure that Carson had let out, clear as a bell. We'll have so many more moments like this, he had told himself. We only have to wait a little bit, and then we'll be together for the rest of our lives.

He saw himself sitting up in bed, with Carson in his arms facing him as his twin moved in a steady up and down rhythm, his arms wrapped around Kurt's neck as though he were desperate to never let him go. Had he known? Had he known then that this was the last time? Had he known that in only a few short months he would be taking Kurt's heart and ripping it out of his chest?

No, Kurt thought in his dream as he clung to Carson, burying his face in his twin's neck as he shuddered and came, feeling Carson following suit a few seconds later. No, there was no way he'd known. He didn't. This had felt too real, too much like real love to be a façade.

He'd been in love then. In love with Kurt.

What had happened?

Carson slowly awakened, letting his eyes adjust to the brightness of his bedroom despite the perpetually drawn curtains. The ringing of the alarm he had set on his phone was responsible, and he really wanted to kill it at the moment, even if he knew full well that it was important for him to get up and feed Kurtsie Kitty. He was, however, extremely frustrated because he'd been dreaming of Kurt. Specifically, their last time making love before Carson had left for Chicago. The dream had felt so real. He could actually feel Kurt's hands and lips on him, on his chest, on his neck, on every inch of his body. Why didn't I realize then that it would be the last time? Why didn't I savor it more? Now I'll never have that back, and I would do anything to feel that close to him again. Now he was just awake and depressed, realizing just how empty his bed was and likely would always be.

He sighed, rolling over in bed and nearly squishing Kurtsie Kitty, who had apparently decided that his bed for the night would be snuggled up against Carson's back.

"Hey, little guy," he admonished him, picking him up and placing him safely on a pillow. "Don't sleep there. You might get smushed, and then I'll be even sadder than I already am." He reached out a finger and gently petted Kurtsie Kitty's head as the kitten meowed and licked his finger affectionately. "I miss Kurt so much, little guy. He texted me last night, you know. It had been so long since he did that, and... and just... out of the blue, there it was. He said that he misses me and that he loves me, and I swear, little guy, I was so close to replying. I wanted to just call him and beg him to take me back, but, see... that's the thing. That's exactly why I can't call him or text him back. Because I know deep down that it would just hurt a lot, knowing that the romantic part of our relationship is over."

Kurtsie Kitty looked at him with his head cocked to the side, his big blue eyes shining with curiosity. Carson sighed and gave a small scratch behind one of the kitten's ears.

"I don't know, Kurtsie Kitty. Everything is so fucked up. I want to talk to him so much, but... I guess I'm scared. I'm just a big chicken shit who doesn't have the balls to do anything but be a pathetic mess. If it wasn't for you, I wouldn't even bother getting out of bed most days."

Kurtsie Kitty gave Carson's finger one last lick and then jumped off the bed, giving him a look as if to say "Come on, feed me."

"Ok, ok, I know. You're hungry," said Carson, yawning and getting out of bed as Kurtsie Kitty, satisfied that Carson was on his way, scurried out of the room. Carson shuffled into the kitchen, preparing Kurtsie Kitty's food and settling in to feed him. This was to be the day he returned to his classes, and now that Kurtsie Kitty was four weeks old he didn't have to be fed nearly as often as he did at first. Carson figured he'd be all set for the hours he'd be away at class if he fed him first thing in the morning.

"Ok, now Kurtsie Kitty, I'll be gone until this afternoon," he said to the cat later as he started dressing himself for class. "I know you'll be a little lonely and very bored, but you have your toys, see?" He pointed in the direction of the pile of jingle balls and catnip toys, of which there were many because Carson was nothing if not a doting pet owner who spoiled Kurtsie Kitty rotten like it was his job. "So, you just be good and play with your toys or take a nap, and as soon as my last class is finished I'll be home and then I'll feed you again. And then, I don't know... we can hang out and you can sleep in my hair while I study." I've gone off the deep end, he thought to himself as Kurtsie Kitty, obviously, ignored him and started pawing at his scratching post. Talking to a cat like it's a child. If anyone could see me now, I swear...

He knelt down and scooped up Kurtsie Kitty, giving the kitten a kiss on the head before setting him back down and heading out the door, dreading the thought of trudging through a day of classes and forced socialization. It was a very long day, and his attention was barely focused on academics. It was split between wondering how Kurt was doing and wondering what Kurtsie Kitty was getting up to while he was away.

The answer to that second question, apparently, turned out to be "Sit with his paws gracefully folded in the hallway in front of the door, waiting for Carson to come home," because that was how Carson found him when he turned his key in the lock and let himself into the apartment.

"You really do remind me of Kurt," Carson marveled as Kurtsie Kitty scrambled to his feet excitedly and started digging his claws into the leg of his jeans, trying to climb him. "Miss me, did you?" he asked, a small smile playing on his lips. "I missed you, too. We're gonna have to see about getting you some kind of baby monitor that I can attach to my phone." He bent down and picked up the kitten, settling him gently into the hood of his hoodie and walking into the kitchen to prepare Kurtsie Kitty's afternoon meal. Kurtsie Kitty peeked his head out around Carson's neck, looking with interest at the bottle he was preparing, and Carson let out a laugh as the kitten's fur tickled his skin.

"This is all for you," he said out loud, fixing the nipple to the top of the bottle and holding it up for Kurtsie Kitty to inspect. "You adorable bottomless pit." He felt his phone vibrating in his pocket and looked at the caller I.D., sighing in exasperation when he realized that it was Santana. She had been texting him all day, and he had been ignoring her. He knew that two minutes into a conversation was all it would take her to figure out that something was wrong, and the last thing he needed was her turning around and telling Kurt about it. So he found it easier to just ignore her.

"Ok, Kurtsie Kitty," he said brightly, playfully brandishing the bottle like a sword. "Time to eat!"

By early May, Kurt had all but given up any hope of ever talking to Carson again. He really wanted to be angry. He wanted to somehow find a way to reach Carson and say "You know what? Fine! If you don't want to talk to me, then that's just fine. I don't want to talk to you, either. I hope you're happy. I don't need you. I don't need you at all. I'll be just fine, and... and maybe I'll start dating again. Hmm? How's that sound?"

He wanted to feel that way, but he just couldn't. No matter how much he tried, he just couldn't bring himself to even think that harshly about Carson, much less say all those things to him. Especially since they weren't even remotely true. He wasn't fine. He wasn't ok. He sure as hell wasn't even considering dating anyone. He was still hopelessly hung up on Carson, no matter how much it hurt.

So, since he couldn't completely erase the hurt, he learned to live with it. It was a daily struggle, but he managed. He became a man of very few words. He went silently about his own business, making himself as unobtrusive as possible and only communicating with Rachel or Santana when he absolutely had no other choice.

Especially Santana, who had somewhat calmed down with the invasive questions about his and Carson's relationship, but who nevertheless was clearly still very, very curious. He knew she was dying to know what had happened. He even knew, on some level, that even though she had no idea of the details, that she blamed Kurt. He could see it in her eyes every time he hung around with Adam at the loft. He could hear it in every sarcastic remark she made about Adam's nationality, or about the Apples. She thought that Kurt had dumped Carson for Adam, and he didn't bother to correct her assumption. It wasn't surprising, he supposed, that she would automatically take Carson's side without any of the facts at her disposal. She had been his friend first, after all. It was none of her damn business, anyway. She could think whatever she wanted. I don't give a shit WHAT she thinks. I don't know why she even cares so much.

He welcomed the distraction that presented itself in the form of a trip to Lima at the end of the spring semester to spend a few days with his father and Carole. He hadn't seen his dad since Christmas, and it would be nice to actually spend time with him without Blaine around to spoil the atmosphere.

"How's your brother doing?" Burt asked Kurt on the day he arrived. "He never talks much when I call him. Always saying he's busy."

"I... he's fine," Kurt lied, not wanting to have to explain to his father why he had absolutely no idea how Carson was. He didn't even think about how much it would hurt to be in his and Carson's old bedroom until he was crying himself to sleep the first night of his visit, clutching Carsey Teddy to his chest and feeling as though the tears would never end. This was different than when he had slept in the same room when he visited in the fall, he realized with a heavy heart. This was so much different. Because now everything in the room just reminded him that he hadn't seen Carson in months. That he probably wouldn't be seeing him at all for a very long time. That he had basically lost everything with one phone call.

He got up out of bed and slept on the couch in the living room after that, citing humidity as the reason why when Burt asked him the next morning what was wrong with his bedroom.

"It's just so hot in there," Kurt said, trying to sound convincing. "I... it's more comfortable down in the living room."

"I understand, sweetie," said Carole from her seat at the kitchen table. "Air conditioner's been broken forever. You get used to it. Hey, if you're going out today, would you mind very much returning my books to the library for me? I have to work today, and they're already overdue."

"Sure," Kurt replied with a shrug. He picked at his breakfast before giving up and gathering the books up. Maybe getting out would do him some good, he decided as he drove to the library. Maybe he could take some time and see some of his old friends. He was pretty sure Mercedes was supposed to be coming into town. Maybe he'd call her and see if she wanted to hang out.

He was busy thinking these semi happy thoughts and dumping Carole's books into the book return bin when he heard his name being called from across the parking lot.

"Kurt!" a very familiar, very unwelcome voice called out, and Kurt cringed where he stood when he realized who it was. Goddammit, I so do NOT need this right now.

"Hi, Blaine," he replied, making his voice as monotone and uninterested as possible. "Look, I can't really hang around and chat, I have stuff to do," he lied.

"Oh," replied Blaine, the grin that had been on his face reducing to a disappointed look. "Well, um... ok. I just... how are you?"

"Fine," Kurt said flatly.

Blaine looked down at the ground and shifted his weight from one foot to the other uncomfortably. "Um... it's just... I haven't talked to you since Christmas, and I..."

"I've been busy," Kurt interrupted.

Blaine nodded. "I figured. Well... um, I actually was hoping that we could talk sometime. We didn't really get a chance to talk at Christmas. You know, alone. And there's... there's some things I've been meaning to say, but I haven't had the opportunity."

"Blaine, if you're going to try to get me to start dating you again, you can forget it," Kurt said quickly. "I think I've made myself very clear about where you and I stand when it comes to that."

"Oh... no!" Blaine said quickly, shaking his head. "No, it... it's not that, I just... I guess I wanted to apologize."

Kurt sighed. "Blaine, I..."

"Kurt, I know I haven't exactly been the best... well... anything to you, but I swear, I just really want our friendship back," said Blaine, giving Kurt the puppy-eyed look he had perfected so well while they were dating. "I just... god, this is awkward... could we go to the Lima Bean or something? Somewhere we can just talk for a little bit?"

"I don't know, Blaine," said Kurt uncomfortably. "I don't think that's a very good idea."

Blaine's face fell slightly as he toyed with a rock with the tip of his shoe. "Well... ok. I guess I understand. I'll see you around, I guess." He gave Kurt a small smile and turned around, shuffling away slowly, leaving Kurt feeling like a complete asshole, even though he didn't see any reason why he should feel that way. Blaine had been awful to him, after all.

Yes, but you should always be the bigger person, Kurt.

Kurt sighed again. "Blaine... wait."

Blaine turned around, looking sad but hopeful, and Kurt felt in his gut that he was probably going to regret this. "I guess I could use a cup of coffee."

Blaine grinned, and Kurt wondered what the hell he had just gotten himself into.

It was one of the most awkward conversations Kurt had ever experienced, that was for sure. Ever since they had sat down with their cups and Blaine had made a comment about Kurt looking "dirty cute," every fiber of his being was telling him to finish his coffee and get the hell out of the Lima Bean as fast as possible because this had been a colossally terrible idea , but he ignored his instinct. He stayed and listened as Blaine talked, rambling on about how he failed his NYADA audition but had been accepted at another New York theater school. Thank god, Kurt thought bitterly. At least I won't have to deal with him at NYADA next year. Small favors.

"So maybe we can see each other around New York sometimes," Blaine said with a smile.

"Hmmm. Maybe," Kurt said in a non-committal tone, severely regretting agreeing to this meet-up now and counting down the moments until he could go. Blaine was now apologizing profusely for the way he had treated Kurt for the past couple of years.

"Look, Kurt," he said, fiddling absentmindedly with the rim of his coffee cup. "I know that I wasn't the best boyfriend when we were together, and I'm sorry that you feel like you can't trust me anymore, but... I mean, I really miss being friends with you."

"Blaine..." Kurt said, heaving a huge sigh and trying to be tactful even though he didn't see one damn good reason why he should be. "Look, I... I accept your apology. I guess. As long as that's all you're after. But I just don't think that I see you as a friend. Not yet. Not for a long time. Possibly not ever. You've been awful. You've cost me a lot of things in my life. Things that I held very dear and that I might never get back. Do you understand this? Do you really?"

Blaine hung his head, still playing with his coffee cup. "I'm really sorry that you feel that way, Kurt."

Kurt let out a breath and tapped his empty coffee cup against the table before standing up. "Look, I have to go." This was SUCH a bad idea. I really just want to punch him in the throat. I should leave before I give in to temptation.

Blaine looked up at him sadly. "Ok."

Kurt didn't say another word, just turned around and tossed his coffee cup in the trash before hurrying out of the Lima Bean as fast as his legs could carry him.

FRIENDS? Is he kidding? I could barely tolerate fifteen minutes across from him without wanting to murder him when I remembered that he was the entire reason that Carson was struck. That if it wasn't for him, I might still have my Carsey with me. I mean, who knows. Maybe not, but... oh, nothing was ever the same after the goddamn lightning. And it was all Blaine's fault, and now he wants to be FRIENDS?

Kurt didn't end up going out again for the remainder of his visit to Lima. He stayed around the house, hanging out with his dad and Carole and missing Carson more than ever before. He wasn't there, but he was a constant presence, even when Kurt tried his best to forget him and concentrate on other things. He never should have gone for coffee with Blaine. It had, as he'd predicted, done him absolutely no good. When would he learn?

He wasn't sure what was worse: being in his old house and wanting to cry every time he passed by his and Carson's bedroom, or arriving back in New York and being reminded of his and Carson's all too brief romance every time he looked at a place in the apartment where they had physically expressed their love for each other. It was like he couldn't escape him, and the hurt was just flaring up. Going home to Lima hadn't been the best idea either, he decided.

It didn't help that Santana pounced on him almost immediately as soon as he got home, dragging him into his bedroom and wordlessly opening the trunk where he kept his boyfriend pillow.

"The hell is this?" she asked, pointing to it and looking at Kurt with narrowed eyes. "You have a boyfriend pillow?"

"Yes," Kurt replied coolly. "Not that it's any of your damned business, and I'm not sure why you were going through my things, because I thought we'd established that this was a boundary you wouldn't be crossing anymore after Rachel kicked you out for a night."

Santana rolled her eyes. "Please, I was homeless for like two hours before you came to find me and dragged me back here."

That was true. Kurt had felt bad when he thought about Santana spending the night alone on a park bench somewhere in the city, and he'd set out almost immediately to find her. He'd located her in an alcove between a Pizza Hut and a Subway, sitting on her suitcase and hugging the pillow she'd stolen from Kurt. She had looked sad and lost, which she had quickly tried to cover up when she noticed Kurt was there. She hadn't been fast enough, and Kurt supposed that maybe he felt bad for her because in her own way, she reminded him of Carson.

Still. That didn't mean that he needed her going through his things.

"Don't touch my stuff," he snapped, crossing over to her and slamming the lid of his trunk closed. "It's none of your business what kind of pillows I own, is it?"

"I'm just saying, you wouldn't need a boyfriend pillow if you hadn't thrown away your actual boyfriend!" she retorted, and Kurt saw so much red he thought for sure he'd burst a blood vessel in his eye. In a very uncharacteristic move for him, considering that he wasn't usually very physically confrontational, he grabbed Santana by the arm and marched her out of his room before stepping back inside and glaring at her.

"For the last time, Satan. Stay out of my personal business!" he snapped, violently pulling the privacy curtain closed. He waited until he heard her footsteps crossing the apartment before he tossed himself on his bed, curling up in a ball and trying not to cry.

He failed.

"Meow?" Kurtsie Kitty squeaked, jumping up on Carson's bed and climbing up onto his chest, where he stood on all fours and looked down into Carson's face with his big, blue eyes. "Meow?"

Carson sighed. "I already fed you, little guy. You're a big boy now, and you eat big boy food. I just really need to be left alone to sulk today, ok?"

"Meow," replied Kurtsie Kitty, settling himself down and curling up on Carson in a small, fuzzy ball. He had pretty much grown as much as he was going to, according to the vet, which meant that he was going to stay average kitten sized for the rest of his life. Not that Carson minded at all. He thought that Kurtsie Kitty was adorable, and as far as he was concerned, him staying a kitten forever was fine by him. Kurtsie Kitty may have been small, but what he lacked in size he made up for in charisma and playfulness. Carson normally loved spending hours playing with him. It took his mind off of how sad and alone he otherwise was.

Today was a particularly bad day, though, and he was in no mood to play with the cat. It was his birthday, and as soon as he had woken up and realized that this was the first birthday he had ever spent without Kurt in their entire lives, he immediately wanted to go back to sleep. And possibly not wake up again.

He'd settled for spending the day in bed, hugging his pillow draped with Kurt's scarf even though he knew that would only make his sadness worse. His phone had rang exactly once that morning, and for one glorious moment, Carson had been sure it would be Kurt calling. And if it had been, he decided he would answer it. That he wouldn't let the day go by without wishing his precious baby brother a happy birthday.

He'd almost been disappointed when he realized it was only his dad calling. He'd answered it, trying not to sound sullen, even though he knew it was probably coming through in his voice anyway.

"Happy birthday, kid!" his father's voice said on the other end of the line. "How are you?"

"I'm fine, Dad," Carson replied quietly.

"You excited to have the summer off? I was hoping you could come visit sometime," Burt continued. "It's been a long time, and I want to see how you've been holding up. Are the therapy appointments going ok?"

"They're fine, Dad," said Carson. "And I don't know if I'll be able to visit this summer. I signed up for a bunch of summer classes." That wasn't a complete lie. He had signed up for a lot of classes, because with nothing else but a cat to occupy his time, he'd decided that he might as well try to finish his undergrad degree in three years instead of four. Why, he had no idea. It was something to do, he guessed. However, most of the classes he'd signed up for were online, and he would have had more than enough freedom to go to Lima over the summer if he really wanted. He just... didn't want. He didn't know anymore how to act normal, and he didn't want his dad to see just how bad things had gotten for him. He knew that he had permanent bags under his eyes now, and that he was getting skinnier with each passing day because he never had the desire or the energy to eat. He couldn't let his dad see him that way. Or worse, he thought, what if he ran into Kurt?

No, staying home for the summer was best, he decided.

Burt had understandably sounded disappointed, but had made small talk with him for a few more minutes and wished him a happy birthday once more before Carson ended the call. He'd turned his phone off after that. He didn't think he could handle it ringing again and the caller not being Kurt.

Out of curiosity, he turned it back on at the end of the day and saw a missed text from Santana that said "Happy Birthday, Diane Sawyer! ^_^ " and one from Sebastian that said "Birthday threesome?" But there was nothing from Kurt.

It's ok, he told himself as he turned the phone back off, sadly hugging his Kurt pillow to his chest as Kurtsie Kitty chewed on the sleeve of his hoodie. I didn't really expect him to call, anyway.

Happy birthday, Kurtsie. I love you. I'm sorry.

Kurt spent his birthday vehemently rebuffing both Rachel and Santana's insistence that he go out and celebrate in some way. He insisted that he had work to do for Vogue, but in reality he was holed up in his bedroom with his phone, trying to work up the courage to dial Carson's number. He didn't want to get his hopes up too much, but he thought that surely Carson would talk to him today, of all days. That his twin wouldn't ignore him on their birthday. I mean... he can't, right? It's our birthday. It was always special. Mom made it special for us when we were little, and Dad tried after she died, but sometimes he couldn't, so we always made it special for each other in any way we could. He CAN'T ignore me today.

Right?

He debated with himself for almost three hours before he gathered up the strength to pick up the phone and scroll through his contacts until he located Carson. He hit the dial button before he could lose his nerve, and held the phone up to his ear. Oh god, this is it. I'm going to talk to him. I will. I...

"Hi, you've reached Carson. Leave a message."

Kurt gulped, unsure what he should do. He ended up hanging up and dialing again. Maybe Carson had picked up the phone too late.

"Hi, you've reached Carson. Leave a message."

He dialed one more time, just to make sure.

"Hi, you've reached Carson. Leave a message."

Kurt choked back tears as he stammered into the phone. "Hi, Carsey. It's me. I... I just... I just wanted to say... happy birthday, honey. I know that you don't want to talk to me, but I just keep thinking of you all alone, and... well, actually, maybe you aren't alone? Have you made a friend? I don't even know anymore, but... Carsey, I miss you. I miss you so much, and I... well. Anyway. I just wanted to make sure you knew that I love you and that I'm thinking of you, sweetheart. Happy birthday."

He brought up one hand to wipe away the tears spilling from his eyes, wishing that he'd had the courage not to hang up first before he delivered his "message."

Of all the things Carson expected to see when he answered the knock on his apartment door one day in early June, his dad wasn't even on the list. He expected maybe a package, or perhaps Mrs. Moore asking how he was doing when all she really wanted was to show off her cleavage in a low-cut blouse, and then he would have to find a polite way of getting rid of her without coming out and saying "I only date my own siblings." Or maybe, he hoped, maybe it was Kurt. After all, he had called Carson on his birthday. Carson could strangle his fucking phone for not showing him the notifications until four days later, but Kurt had, in fact, called. Three times. And Carson wasn't sure what to do after he found out. He thought for sure that Kurt probably thought he'd ignored him on purpose, when that wasn't true at all. And he didn't want to call him back days later. He would look like an asshole.

You are one, Carson. Never forget. You ARE one.

But it wasn't Kurt, or Mrs. Moore, or a package, it was Burt standing there outside the door, and Carson had no idea how to react, other than with internal horror. Oh god, what is he doing here? He's going to see how horrible I look and he's going to tell Kurt, and... FUCK. 

"Um... hi, Dad," he said awkwardly.

"Hi, kid," Burt replied. "Look, when you said you couldn't come visit, I thought, well... maybe I could come to you. I had a stopover here for my flight for work. I miss you, you know."

"I know," Carson replied. "I just..."

"Oh hey, who's this?" asked Burt, interrupting him to lean down with a smile on his face, and Carson realized that Kurtsie Kitty was peering curiously around his leg, unsure what to make of their visitor. "You got yourself a cat?" he asked, holding out one hand to Kurtsie Kitty, who sniffed it experimentally.

"Uh... yeah," said Carson, leaning down and scooping Kurtsie Kitty up into his arms. "His name is K... his name is Chris," he said, covering just in time.

"Hi, Chris," said Burt, reaching out his hand to pet softly at Kurtsie Kitty's head. "I'm your grandpa Burt."

Carson snorted despite himself. "Lame, Dad."

"Hey, I'll take what I can get, ok?" said Burt with a grin. "I always wanted a grandbaby. I'll take a grandkitten. You gonna invite your old man in?"

Carson stepped back and waved Burt inside, looking around quickly to determine how bad the apartment looked. There were a few mugs of old coffee laying around, and there were books all over the place, but otherwise he didn't think it looked too bad.

"You look so skinny, buddy," Burt said, looking Carson up and down as he entered the apartment. "Are you ok?" he asked worriedly.

"Oh, um..." said Carson, desperately trying to think of an excuse. "Yeah, I just... my schedule is really hectic and... um... most of the time I guess I don't have much time to eat between classes. Lots of running to and from, you know."

"Hmm," said Burt thoughtfully. "You should start packing food with you when you leave. It can't be healthy to do so much with no fuel. It's bad for cars and it's bad for humans."

"Yeah. Yeah, I will. I'll do that," said Carson awkwardly, wondering how long his dad was planning on staying, because he was pretty sure it was supposed to rain tonight and he did not need his dad witnessing a panic attack.

"I can only stay a few hours," Burt said, as though reading Carson's mind. "I just thought we could hang around for a little bit before I have to catch my next flight. Catch up a bit."

"Yeah... yeah, sure," said Carson quietly, relieved, hugging Kurtsie Kitty close. He happened to glance at the calendar on the wall behind his father and gulped when he realized what day it was.

It had been exactly one year since the lightning strike.

One year, Kurt thought sadly to himself as he stared at the calendar on his desk at Vogue. One year ago today. It's been a year.

It had been exactly one year since the horrible night he had held Carson in his arms as he desperately waited for the ambulance to arrive. One year since he had spent countless hours in a dingy waiting room, unsure whether or not he still had a brother. One year since he had almost lost Carson.

Funny, he thought. I lost him anyway.

He finished up his work and left his office, taking his time getting home. He really wasn't in any hurry to get there and have to deal with Rachel's diva attitude, which had lessened somewhat since she'd broken up with Brody but which still tended to rear its ugly head from time to time, or with Santana's ever invasive questions. He just wanted to be left alone.

He sure as hell wasn't expecting to enter the hallway leading to the apartment and see Blaine, of all people, standing there, apparently having been waiting for him. What the FUCK?

"Blaine, what the hell are you doing here?" he asked, not even caring how sharp he sounded. Why should he?

Blaine winced. "I was in New York checking out my new school, and I just... I mean, I knew that maybe you didn't want to see me, but I didn't know where else to go and, um... I kind of need to ask a favor."

"A favor?" asked Kurt warily. "Blaine, I'm very tired and today is not a good day, and to be perfectly honest, the very last thing I feel like doing is a favor for anyone, especially you."

"I got rejected for the dorms at college," Blaine murmured, looking down at his feet.

"Huh?" asked Kurt.

"I can't live on campus. I got rejected," Blaine repeated.

"Why? And an even better question, what in hell does this have to do with me?" asked Kurt. "I can't force them to let you live in the dorms, Blaine."

"I know," said Blaine quietly. "But, um, that's the thing. See... my parents aren't helping out much, financially, with my college. I mean, they're paying their share of the tuition and stuff, but an apartment would be so much more expensive than the dorms would have been, and, well... I mean, I know you'll probably say no, and I totally would understand, but..."

"Blaine, will you just get to the damn point?" Kurt snapped, beginning to have the sneaking suspicion that he knew where this was going.

Blaine looked up at him with wet eyes. "Um, I was wondering, if it was ok with you... and Rachel and Santana, of course...um... if maybe I could pay a share of the rent and live here with you guys?"