Blaine wakes to Kurt whispering his name frantically, pushing at his shoulder through the snuggie.

                “Forgive me,” Kurt says, struggling out of the sleeves. Blaine only has time to blink sleepily at him before Kurt rolls over.

                Rolls over and into him.

                Quite literally.

                Blaine lets out a startled squeak, jumping as the door opens.

                “Hey, bud. Better get up if you’re still going shopping with Mercedes.”

                Blaine hears Kurt thank Burt, but the fact that Kurt’s hand is where his hand is and they are actually sharing the same space simultaneously has him a little stunned and unable to notice if they say anything else.

                When Kurt rolls away again, Blaine gapes at him.

                “How was I going to explain the person-shaped lump under the blankets next to me?” Kurt says, a little defensive as a blush rises to his cheeks. “’Oh, don’t worry dad, that’s just my new pillow. They make them for the desperately lonely to have something man-shaped to cuddle at night.’ Yeah, I don’t think so.”

                “I cannot even begin to put into words how weird that was.”

                “The man-shaped pillow or occupying the same atomic space?”

                “Yes.”

                Kurt sits up, stretching. Blaine is torn between averting his eyes and drinking up the sight of Kurt’s back shifting under his sleep shirt, the knobs of his spine barely noticeable through the cloth.

                Kurt shuffles around awkwardly, grabbing clothes from his dresser and closet. “I’m just gonna…shower…” he points with his thumb over his shoulder, gesturing towards a door. “Um…make yourself at home? I guess…”

                Blaine picks at a loose thread of the comforter, watching the string around his wrist jerk gently as Kurt leaves, the bathroom door shutting quietly behind him.

                The muffled sounds of the shower lull him back into a sleepy daze, and Blaine barely notes slumping back down into Kurt’s pillow until there’s a knock at the door.

                He blinks, sitting up. There’s an absence of running water and the bathroom door is ajar. Wispy tendrils of steam still float in the air, dissipating as they near the ceiling. Kurt’s voice rings out, telling Mercedes that she can come in, he’ll be ready in a few minutes.

                The door swings open and Blaine feels himself tense involuntarily, his mind slamming him into the past without his consent.

                Blaine barely registers the sound of footsteps racing toward the parking garage, the sound echoing as the person enters. His tears fall thickly as he continues to cradle Kurt’s head, the blood caked on his hands becoming tacky as it dries.

                “Kurt? Baby, are you okay? I know Puck pissed you off, but- Oh my god!”

                There’s suddenly another presence at his side. Blaine flinches away, pulling Kurt closer to him protectively. The girl ignores him, one hand fumbling out her phone –and god, Blaine doesn’t even know her but he could kiss her for thinking when he obviously can’t- while the other presses against Kurt’s neck.

                When she feels no beat, the girl gasps sharply, like she’s been suckerpunched. She sniffles, tears spilling over as the call goes through. “Oh, baby boy…” she whispers brokenly, stroking Kurt’s too-pale face with the backs of her fingers. She clears her throat, but there’s still a wavering break in her voice as she tells the phone, “I need to report an attack…”

                He tunes her out, focusing on the string around his wrist. It drags trough the puddle of congealing blood, unsullied. He’s never hated it until now.

                “Who the hell are you?” Despite the curse, her voice is soft. Her nose is running when he looks at her.

                “I’m his soulmate,” he murmurs, a fresh wave of tears building in his eyes. Her gaze softens even more behind her own tears and she lays a hand gently on his shoulder.

                They sit in silence as the sirens approach, Blaine cradling Kurt toward himself and the girl rubbing circles into Blaine’s shoulder, her other hand gripping Kurt’s lifeless fingers.

                When the paramedics try to pull him away to put Kurt on the stretcher, something in Blaine snaps.

                He cries and yells, howls of feral pain ripping from his throat as they try to pull him away from the body.

                “He’s my soulmate! HE’S MY SOULMATE!” He shouts, over and over as he struggles against the paramedic. They manage to force him away, his voice growing hoarse with his outbursts and tears.

                Warm arms wrap around his waist, restraining but comforting. Blaine clings to the girl, burying his face into her shoulder as they zip Kurt into a body bag with finality.

                “He’s my soulmate,” he says again. The girl rubs his back, and because she’s shorter than him, he can feel her tears soaking through his blazer.

                “I know, honey.”

                Blaine hasn’t seen the girl since Kurt’s funeral, when she stood with her friends and took the lead on a heartbreaking rendition of “Somewhere Out There.”

                Now here she stands in the doorway of Kurt’s room, no teartracks, no bags under her eyes, and her smile carefree.

                “Hey, space cadet, you in there?”

                Blaine notices that Kurt has emerged from the bathroom and is eyeing him questioningly in the mirror, using the pretense of fixing his hair to do so. Kurt breaks eye contact, turning to his friend. “Sorry, ‘Cedes. I don’t think I got much sleep last night.”

                Mercedes clicks her tongue disapprovingly and gives him a sympathetic look. “Nightmares?”

                Kurt shrugs, giving his hair a final tweak. “Something like that.” He slings his coat over his arms and turns off his bedroom light. Mercedes grabs his hand.

                “Hey. Look at me a minute,” she says as Blaine slips out behind them. “Are you okay? You’ve been acting…funny.”

                Blaine can almost see Kurt’s hackles rise. “I’m fine, Mercedes.” He says, his tone a tad waspish as he pushes past her and down the stairs. Mercedes trails after him, looking both hurt and determined.

                “Fine, fine, all you ever say is that you’re fine,” she mutters, oblivious to Blaine slipping through her as he catches up with Kurt.

                He’s already by the car, still looking peeved, though he opens the door for Blaine, acting like he’s looking for something in the backseat as Blaine climbs into the vehicle. Kurt slams the door, yanking open the driver’s side and flinging himself into the seat.

                Blaine catches his eye in the rearview mirror. Kurt huffs. “What?” he snaps, crossing his arms over his chest defensively. Blaine shrugs.

                “I don’t know what’s going on with you guys’ friendship right now,” he begins, ignoring Kurt’s snort. “And it’s obviously some kind of fresh wound, so I’m not gonna prod, but you might want to know that she’s the one who came after you that day.”

                Kurt freezes. “’Cedes saw…?”

                “Yeah.”

                “…shit.” Kurt watches his friend, saying goodbye to his father on the porch before she makes her way to the car.

                “Sorry, I ran into your daddy on the way out. I’m glad he’s doing better.”

                Kurt shifts the car into reverse and backs out of the driveway. “Yeah, me too.”

                Mercedes shifts awkwardly in her seat. “So…Columbus? I got Christmas shopping to do.”

                Kurt nods, catching Blaine’s eye in the mirror. He grins a little, apparently unable to stop himself.

                “This is will be a decision I regret, won’t it?” Blaine asks, knowing that Mercedes can’t hear him.

                He’s pretty sure that the only reason Kurt doesn’t stick out his tongue at him is because Mercedes is already looking at him strangely.