And you stand there, a frozen light in dark and empty streets

Throughout his young existence, Kurt Hummel has learned – the hard way and more than once – that life as you know it can change in a matter of seconds. One moment he could be lecturing about culture in French to an uncomprehending jock; the next he could be racing to the hospital, scared for his father's life. Or he could be an excited wedding planner one moment, only to have his life threatened the next. Or be bursting with joyous pride about his latest report card, but have the day turn into the worst of his life as he hears the news about his mother.

Of course the opposite does happen now and then, and there was a time when it felt like those were the moments he lived for; those priceless moments of finding hope where he least expected it. Like being all but kicked out of the boys' competition planning, just to find his safe-haven at Dalton.

Tonight, though, is something new. It isn't a good moment turning into a bad one, nor is it a bad one turning good; it's a bad one turning worse – turning weird. When it happens, Kurt is standing at the open front door of his house, staring at the spot where Blaine's car was parked just a moment ago, his boyfriend's last angry words still ringing in his ears. Then the sound of screeching tires and the earsplitting crash that follows pierce the quiet night, and for a few seconds Kurt doesn't react at all, just stands there, body and mind frozen. When his mind starts working again, the first thing that pops into his head is that day almost seventeen months ago, when he first met Blaine. (Has it really not been longer? It feels like he has known Blaine forever.) Finding Blaine. His Blaine now.

My name's Blaine.

He had said it with such ease, and he had reached out to shake Kurt's hand like it was nothing, as if people did that every day. He remembers Blaine's immediate warmth – not just physically but his voice and his eyes, too – and he remembers how their hands felt, clasped together for the first time.

The memory seems to jolt Kurt's body alive again, and he starts running, though he doesn't remember making the conscious decision to do so – his body and mind both working, but separate somehow. Kurt is aware of his feet, almost tripping in their haste, carrying him towards the sound, from one moment into the next, but that memory keeps playing in his mind.

He finally reaches the intersection where the car has crashed a little into the right swing and halfway onto the pavement. Kurt's stomach turns and he almost slips on the icy road, when he sees that the car has completely overturned. He somehow manages to wrench open the passenger door and all he sees is that Blaine isn't moving. Kurt is so preoccupied with getting Blaine out of the car – and that first, perfect moment plays over and over in his mind, and please please don't let our last be a stupid fight – that he doesn't notice the change in his boyfriend; doesn't realize that the seventeen-year-old boy he knows has vanished, that the Blaine in the car is at least thirty years old.