Silence.

Let's just say, Blaine didn't deal with boredom very well. He'd always been one of those people who had to be doing something every waking hour of the day. His mind just wasn't accustomed to not thinking. Not thinking about something of importance meant he'd have to start thinking about something about something meaningless like daytime television or love. His brain was for stimulating, not for filling with a load of gunk like that.

He finally took his eyes off the silent phone to look at Kurt, watching as he scanned through the novel rested underneath his hands. He looked so relaxed. Finding some sort of ambience in doing almost nothing had always been an impossible task for Blaine, so he was almost fascinated by the way Kurt could sit and shut his mind of from the world, delving into the virtual land created in fiction.

Kurt looked up, half-aware that Blaine was watching him, so decided to stare at him with a similar studious mindset. Blaine's hair- which had formerly been gelled back, making him look slightly dapper and sophisticated- had fallen from its helmet of gel, revealing his soft dark brown curls that draped over his forehead slightly. His eyebrows arched into two shapes that strangely resembled the shape of Doritos, and on anyone other than him they'd look stupid, but for some reason they just added to his bizarre beauty.

That's the only way Kurt could describe Blaine. Bizarrely beautiful. An abstract masterpiece. A dazzling oddity. His brilliant smartness, although very strange and sometimes kind of irritating, was almost like an art form.

Blaine's eyes had yet to return their gaze to the phone again as he watched Kurt, who had placed his novel beside the arm chair and curled up, close to falling asleep. Usually, the simple act of just watching someone without deducting the events of their day from the clothes they were wearing would bore Blaine to death, but for some reason, he watched Kurt with ease. His mind seemed to switch off, not requesting to be the focus of attention anymore, as his breathing relaxed and he sunk back into his own chair, close to drifting off to sleep himself.

'Dancing through life, skimming the surface.'

Blaine was awoken by the lull of Kurt's gentle voice, singing what Blaine deduced to be one of Kurt's much talked about 'musical theatre' numbers.

'Gliding where turf is smooth... Life's more painless, for the brainless. Why think too hard, when it's so soothing?'

Blaine watched as Kurt obliviously danced around the living room with a duster in hand without a care in the world.

"Your voice is nice." A grin spread across Blaine's lips.

"T-thanks..." Kurt notice Blaine was watching him and immediately put a halt to his little 'performance'.

"Hey don't be embarrassed! You're talented."

"Am I now? So do you sing at all?"

"Nope."

"Play any instruments."

"Guitar. Piano. Cello. Violin. I just compose though. It helps me to think."

"Do you ever not think? Can't you just... shut your brain down for that?"

"And the purpose of that would be?"

"Relaxation?" Kurt sighed.

...

The previously silent phone suddenly wasn't so silent anymore, as it rung out loudly throughout the flat, resulting in Blaine leaping with an expression of joy.

"Puckerman?" he answered, knowing who it would be without even having to wait and find out.

"The two cases. Robert Evans and Trent Burton? They're connected." He stated.

"How'd you know?"

"They found the same pill that you found at the Burton crime scene at the Evans crime scene. It's just a sugar pill. They've finished all the tests and things now, and we've found out what caused their deaths."

"What?"

"Copper Sulphate. Both had ingested it. Another case has arisen, which has similarities, but we can't be sure if it's connected till they run tests. Will you come?"

...

"What's the deal with this copper sulphate then?" Kurt asked Blaine as they sat in the back of the taxi cab. "Is it like a poison or something?"

"It was used as an emetic." Blaine laughed. "Honestly, did you not take chemistry at school or something?"

"An emetic? What does that mean? And no. I may have excelled in the language based subjects... but science just isn't for me."

"Copper Sulphate is an irritant. It irritates the gastrointestinal tract, and induces immediate vomiting. But... how? How did it enter their systems?"

"I don't know. Swallowed it? Forced down their throats? And can I ask... why am I here?"

"Ask yourself that question. Why are you here?"

"I mean... what help am I to you or these cases?"

"You may not be as observant as I, Kurt..." Blaine breathed out slowly. "But you're clever. And you're empathetic. That's good for me. I'm not good with that sort of thing."

"What? Emotions?"

"Yes. Caring is just so... difficult. Caring just ends in the worst kind of pain. I can't... care. Well... I don't want to care.

"What's the worst kind of pain?"

"Emotional pain. Physical pain's bearable. It's like a reminder that you're still alive. But emotional pain? That just reminds me I'm human. You wait outside on this case alright?"

...

"Augustus Waters. Seventeen years old. Found here at this church... Find out what you can..." Puck said calmly.

"Prosthetic leg. Overall looks quite sickly- slightly jaundice, bruises on body. G-tube inserted in stomach. Osteosarcoma. Terminal. Died from choking on his own vomit- just like the other two- and... sugar pill. Sitting right next to his nose. Anything else... anything else..." he looked around for a moment, noticing a packet of cigarettes that he felt obliged to pick up. "None of these have been smoked, but there are teeth marks indented into the tops of most of them."

"What does that mean?"

"I...don't know. Wait!" he smiled, having realised something. "Anyone who knows him present here?"

"His mother. She's talking to the investigation department."

"Organise for me to talk to her."

...

"These cigarettes," he began, holding up the packet of Marlboro lights. "Haven't been lit."

"It's a metaphor." She laughed gently, her face contorting with almost depressing nostalgia. "He puts the thing that could kill him in his mouth, but doesn't give it the power to kill him."

"Thank you Mrs Waters." He tried to hide his smile, knowing that he'd cracked it, but not wanting to come across as insensitive. "Sorry about your loss."

...

"You're not his friend you know." Rachel Berry smirked at Kurt. "He doesn't have friends."

"I'm aware." Kurt nodded curtly. "Just met the guy."

"Then stay away from him okay?"

"And why should I do that?"

"You know why he's here? He doesn't earn any money or anything. It's for fun. He gets off on this sort of thing. The weirder the crime, the more excited he gets."

"Why?"

"Because he's a psychopath. I mean... I'm no doctor or anything so I can't like... diagnose that... But he's a creep. But anyway, psychopaths get bored. One day this all won't be enough for him. We'll be standing around a body that he put there."

"You obviously don't know him." Kurt sighed, not sure what to think.

...

"We're dealing with a serial killer here." Blaine thought aloud to Kurt as the two walked along the street, having decided to walk home instead of getting a cab. "But his motive... what's his motive?"

"No matter what their motive is," Kurt looked away for a moment, before returning his gaze towards Blaine. "We're dealing with someone who's pretty damn heartless."

"All three of them were dying. That's somehow related... but how would the killer know about it? Wait! He's a doctor. The killer's a doctor. He's rich. You can tell from the keys found at the Trent Burton crime scene. Of course he's a doctor. A doctor that knew all of them surely. None of their illnesses were really connected. Mr Evans had a heart defect, Trent had liver issues, and Augustus was dying of cancer. Those sorts of things have specialists... So what doctor would have treated them all? One in the ER. Kurt! We're going to have to take a little trip to Lima Memorial."

...

"How on earth are we going to get into the ER, when neither of us are ill or injured?" Kurt queried.

"Honestly Kurt... for someone clever," Blaine stopped to laugh. "You're pretty stupid. We fake it. We fake an illness, or use carefully applied makeup to look like we've been beaten up."

"I...don't like lying."

"Then we won't then. Punch me."

"What?"

"Just shut up and punch me in the face."

"I'm not going to punch you in the face Blaine."

"Please just punch me already!"

"I'm no-..."

"PUNCH ME!"

So following Blaine's orders, Kurt did. His fist crashed against Blaine's lip, like a meteor colliding with earth. Blaine fell, taken aback by the 'attack' for a moment, placing his hand up to his mouth.

"Am I bleeding?" he mumbled, his lip beginning to swell slightly.

"You're not half..." Kurt, feeling slightly, rushed for paper towels to clean up the laceration.

"Perfect. Let's go."