Jeremiah and Blaine were only a couple of streets away from Kurt and Finn’s house. Blaine’s chest was constricting tightly under the unfamiliar feeling cotton of his shirt. “Tell me again why you think this is such a good idea?” Blaine asked, body rigid and staring straight ahead. Jeremiah took his hand off the steering wheel for a moment so he could reach over and squeeze a hand resting on Blaine’s knee, “It’s going to be fine.”

It took a while for Blaine to register the calming heat of the larger hand covering his own. For a moment he broke contact with the blurring suburban landscape to look down at their entwined hands.

***

Jeremiah had pulled Blaine by the hand in such a hurry he’d barely had enough time to explain to his fathers where he was going, keeping vague on the who and where, certain they’d refuse to let him leave. But they didn’t ask any questions; in fact they waved him off with smiles and $50 note casually slipped into his hand. He guessed they were just relieved to see the shift in his mood.

After driving for around fifteen minutes they had pulled up outside the mall, much to Blaine’s confusion. “Everything’s closed. Unless we’re foregoing this ordeal and are just gonna see a movie-” Blaine asked, the timid hope in his voice cut off by the slamming of Jeremiah’s door.

Blaine had barely managed to unclip his seatbelt when his own door was wrenched open, the cool October air hitting his flushed face like a slap. “Just follow me,” Jeremiah said with cool authority, latching onto Blaine’s hand once more before propelling him out of the car and towards the back service entrance of the mall.

Inside the building Blaine’s sense of unease only grew. Jeremiah had left him standing alone in the middle of a large dark room, promising to return in, “Just one minute.” As his footsteps had faded away Blaine fidgeted agitatedly on the spot hugging his arms against his chest.

Assuaging his nerves he’d counted in his head to sixty before calling his name softly… wait were those…? he asked himself as he turned on the spot. Even in the darkness he could make out the bodies… the decapitated bodies and Blaine had been close to screaming and running for his life. Seriously who just goes off with an older guy he barely knows? Hadn’t Kurt made him watch enough late night horror movies (although granted he hadn’t seen too much, choosing to hide his eyes behind pillows) to know he was about to be…?

Then the world had flooded with light and Jeremiah had emerged behind the counter of the Lima Mall Gap, grinning broadly.

****

After Jeremiah’s hand retreated Blaine found himself fidgeting, pulling at the leather bracelets encircling his wrists until the skin underneath tingled and turned white. Working upwards he rubbed at the exposed tan skin of his forearms, further towards his elbows where he fiddled with the bunched fabric there, feeling the urge to pull it down and cover his naked skin. A gentle but chastising hand slapped it away, “Non of that! It’s not just about having the right clothes Blaine it’s about wearing them properly as well… And you know I don’t just mean on your body.”

*****

After pulling Blaine around the empty store, his weak arms pilled high with various coloured fabrics he’d been pulled into a changing room to try on outfit after outfit. Each ensemble was met by a furrowed brow from Jeremiah, followed by a shake of the head and a clipped, “Next.”

Before Jeremiah handed over the last one from the pile he appraised Blaine’s hunched form leaning tired and dejected against the wall, still clad in black skinny jeans and a maroon sweater that had just been vetoed. “Look this isn’t working Blaine, you’re not- OK.”

He spun him around so that he was standing behind him, their images reflected in the three way mirrors. “ You’re the one holding the clothes up, not the other way around. Stand up straight!” He pulled Blaine’s shoulders back and spun him back around to face him. “Blaine, confidence is the best accessory,” he said handing him the final outfit and giving him a poignant look, “it goes with everything.”

As Blaine stood in the empty cubicle he sighed, he didn’t know how to be confident. But then again he thought; he did know a little something about acting. After all, you had to when you’d secretly pined for boy who was your best friend for over ten years.

With this in mind he resisted the urge to slouch as he slid his legs into the jeans and he broadened his shoulders as he pulled on the shirt. Finally he arched his chin whilst he relaxed the muscles in his face into calm assurance; burying his innate feelings of insecurity that surrounded him like a grey aura, pretending for a moment he could be something more than what he thought he was.

It was quiet for a long time before Jeremiah knocked, “Can I come in?” Blaine must have said something in the affirmative because the door clicked open slowly. Blaine stood sculpture still facing the mirror, not daring to move.

Jeremiah didn’t say anything for a while and Blaine began to worry he’d gotten it wrong, wasted all the time he’d invested in him when hands suddenly clamped either side of his arms and he laughed, “Now that’s what I’m talking about!” Blaine smiled bashfully as hands ghosted over him, rolling up the sleeves, twitching the collar and then prodding gently at the shell of Blaine’s hair, “Now we just have to fix this little situation… Oh god please tell me you own a pair of contacts…”

*******

Blaine was surprised at how little the contacts actually rubbed his eyes now; he’d remembered them being a lot worse the last time he’d worn them. This coupled with the amount of time it took to put the damn things in led him to rarely use them. Besides he liked the way his glasses hid his face, a realisation he was now making when he found himself trying to push up air. He felt exposed.

As they pulled to a stop as close to Kurt’s house as possible (the usual empty spaces already filled and double parked,) Blaine’s hair bounced lightly against his head. It startled him like they were spider legs instead of his own now tame but loose curls.

After leaving the mall Jeremiah had driven to Blaine’s house to a.) retrieve his contacts, b.) pick up something for Brittany and c.) fix his hair. It had been surprisingly easy to fix his wild curls, Jeremiah’s secret being an expensive bottle of product he swore he never left the house without, evidently so when he’d pulled it out of his glove compartment.

“Ready?” he asked, turning to Blaine.

He took a deep breath as he replied, “As I’ll ever be.”

………

Inside Kurt’s house Sugar blocked their entrance, wearing a jacket that looks like it was skinned right off the back of Sulley and then dyed pink, over a tight, orange, leopard, printed mini dress. In her hands she held a silver tray littered with tall shot glasses, half empty with sticky fingerprints and half filled with a toxic looking green liquid. “I don’t know who you are but I’d be happy to change that status,” she said in her nasally tone, thrusting the tray at them. Jeremiah demurely declined, “Designated driver, thanks anyway honey.”

“It’s Sugar, but that’s cool you can totes call me what you like babe. Here,” she thrust the tray at Blaine, “Your compact lil cutie pie’s gotta take a shot before you’re allowed in.”

“It’s Blaine Sugar,” he said frowning as Jeremiah took a shot and placed it in his hands, wrinkling his nose at the overwhelming smell of the neon coloured liquid. “You’re not Blaine. Blaine’s looks like one of those weird lil ventriloquists’ dolls and he always wears a bowtie, you know, the kind that makes you look like a serial killer with some kind of clown fetish. Oh hey Sandy!” forgetting their presence she turned on the spot to face the new comer.

Blaine frowned heavily at Jeremiah who was trying unsuccessfully not to laugh. Eventually he sighed, “Bottoms up?” Blaine asked before tossing the glass back, grimacing at the bitter liquid that tasted just as bad if not worse than it smelt. A heavy hand slapped him on the back almost making him choke as a lewd voice even more repugnant than the drink invaded his ear. “Dude not in front of the children! But gotta say,” he said patting him delightedly on the ass, “I always guessed!”

Blaine moved out of the way of his groping hands and shot him an indignant look, arms crossed over his chest, “Hello Puck.” Puck circled around him, shifting under the weight of a crate of beer hooked under his other arm. He raked his eyes up and down before whistling low, “Say lookie here, ain’t we all gussied up!”

A dirty little smile crept into his lips as he learned in close enough to Blaine’s ear to make him flinch. “Oh right! Of course! You’re totally planning on nailing - sorry my bad getting nailed by K-” Blaine grabbed one of Sugars shots and thrust it at his mouth, effectively silencing him. Surprised but with obviously practised skill he knocked his head back, drinking it down without spilling, his expression never wavering.

“Refreshing. Now, look Blaine, if you got all dressed up for me, I’m gonna have to stop you right there. No amount of liquor’s ever gonna get me to Brokeback your mountain.” Blaine shot Jeremiah an embarrassed look and for the first time Puck realised he was standing there, “Say ain’t you the dude who comes in every week to perv on my little Blainey?” Jeremiah stopped smirking as the colour in his face drained a little, Blaine had had enough. “Christ Puck, isn’t there some hole you can go crawl back into?”

“Well ladies,” he said raising the crate over his head as he walked backwards towards a group of dancing Cheerio’s, “That’s the plan!” After thrusting the air with his hips in their direction he turned to the group and was swallowed up. Blaine shuddered, feeling the need to curl into a ball and sit under a shower for the rest of the year.

“So he’s always…?” Jeremiah asked, his voice a little chocked.

“Pretty much,” Blaine answered, turning back and shrugging.

Making their way inside it was hard not to notice the stir his new look was causing; high school students weren’t exactly subtle after all. Fingers pointed, voices whispered and eyes stared but their faces barely registered to Blaine as he moved through the throng towards the bottom of the stairs where Mercedes appeared. Hands flying to her cheeks, she spoke in a high, giddy voice, “Boy who unwrapped your bowtie and found the gift of gorgeous?!”

As he smiled coyly at her he felt a wild shiver run up his spine, spreading across his skin until the surface of his skin hummed with a buzz like electricity. As the crowd parted he knew why instantly. Halfway up the stairs stood Kurt, staring down at him.

………

Kurt could see why his entrance hadn’t garnered the response he’d anticipated. Everyone was too busy ogling… Blaine? His mind couldn’t quite wrap the name around the boy bellow, standing sideways as he smiled radiantly at Mercedes.

It wasn’t that he was taller; standing next to Mercedes that was obvious but he looked… stronger somehow. When had those stumpy legs that could barely reach the middle shelf in their school library, filled out so well? he wondered. It must be something to do with the way the dark fabric of his jeans clung to him wrapping tightly up his frame, higher and higher until they reached his… oh sweet Jesus…

Ok when did Blaine get an ass?! Kurt racked his memory picturing Blaine sitting at his desk, leaning against his locker, he couldn’t locate a moment he’d ever noticed it. As Blaine turned pink flooded Kurt’s face as he realised he hadn’t torn his eyes away from his ass. So he travelled higher taking in his torso clad in a charcoal grey shirt over a dusty purple t-shirt.

Blaine’s usual fashion colour pallet was pretty much in the Rainbow Brite territory. It had the odd effect of washing him out until you didn’t so much notice him as you did the clothes. However the muted tone of this shirt had the opposite effect; it made the olive skin glow dark and rich like coffee, everywhere it was exposed. His hands, his arms, his throat... Wait were those chest hairs curling over the top of the t-shirt? When had those grown in? With the constant parade of bowties threaded tightly around his neck he’d not had the chance to witness their arrival. But then again why would he be looking? he chastised himself.

Blaine finally locked eyes on Kurt and he felt the full force of his liquid gold eyes no longer hidden behind glasses. He thought back to the day he’d secretly watched Blaine sing in the choir room and he’d gotten his first real look at them. They’d haunted him for hours afterwards and he’d had no idea why but as he stared back at them he felt the same surge of feeling coil low in his stomach.

Blaine suddenly turned to look at a man standing next to him and whispered something in his ear. Kurt had never seen him before in his life and when he saw the man squeeze Blaine’s hand his jaw dropped.

…………

“Is that him?” Jeremiah asked right in Blaine’s ear startling him. He turned to look at him and whispered, “Yes.” There must have been fear or something in his eyes because he took Blaine’s hand for the tinniest moment and squeezed it.

When Blaine looked back around Kurt was suddenly approaching poised in his descent: “Blaine, I –” his foot missed the last step and he fell through the air. Blaine’s arms launched in front of him, catching Kurt, as the momentum twisted him around, arching his body under Blaine, until he was bare inches from his face.

As they clung to each other Kurt stared up searching Blaine’s eyes with his own wide unblinking ones. Blaine felt paralysed, as he became overwhelmed by the raw memories of their kiss in the dead of night. The feel of his fingers locked around his arm, the smell of his honeyed breath teasing the fine hairs on his face, the sound of -

“Oh. My. God. Blaine, people are literally swooning – you look that good!” Mercedes said hollering, breaking the tension. Kurt’s shocked face flooded with red as he scrambled to right himself, disengaging himself from Blaine’s arms, he shot a glare at Mercedes.

“Well I-I guess I’m just shocked, I mean here I was thinking you were at deaths door because well, you’d have to be to miss one of my parties and then here you turn up looking um looking…” Kurt trailed off flustered as his hand twisted in the air. Blaine pulled at the hem of his shirt nervously as he noted the way Kurt’s voice seemed a little higher than usual and kind of breathless as well. But then again he realised he had practically just fallen down the stairs. Blaine was about to explain everything when Kurt whipped round to face Jeremiah.

“So you’ve brought a… friend. Hello,” Kurt thrust a crooked hand at Jeremiah almost glaring; a cool smile under colder eyes. Blaine looked dazedly between the two as Kurt shook his hand primly, “I’m Kurt of course. And you are?” Jeremiah quirked his lips into a smirk as Blaine answered for him. “This- this is Jeremiah. He’s a um friend of mine.” As he pulled his hand away Kurt replied curtly, “Charmed,” all emphasis on the ar.

“Well boys, I hope you have a great time but my hosting duties really are required. Mercedes,” he locked a possessive arm through her own as he dragged her away. “See you later guys!” she added with a wave of her free hand before being jerked back in the direction of the kitchen.

Blaine followed the retreating figures with his eyes as they were consumed by the crowd. “So yeah, um that was… that was Kurt,” Blaine said a little breathlessly, his eyes still trained on the last point he saw him disappear from.

“Riiight, and is he um always…?” Jeremiah asked with a quirk of his lips, seeming fairly amused by the encounter.

“No not really… he was acting sort of… odd,” Blaine replied dragging his eyes away.

A hand snaked around his waist, giving him a small squeeze, “Well for what it’s worth you did good. Now, you wanna go find Brittany?”

“Yeah...” he answered. As they walked into the living room, Blaine gave one final look over his shoulder towards the crowded kitchen entryway.

…………

When he asked a random girl in the living room where Brittany was she pawed at his chest like a cat, his skin crawling and his face flooding red. But she was promptly pulled off by her freckle-faced boyfriend who pointed Blaine in the direction of the basement. It figured of course, at the few parties he’d attended, the Glee Club and the other socially stunted kids of McKinley had always gravitated to lower ground, basements mostly and once even a bomb shelter. Jeremiah let him go alone to talk to Brittany and left in the general direction of the kitchen, looking for the bar to practise his cocktail skills.

As Blaine descended the stairs it was the usual chaos. Tina and Mike were staggering around the centre of the room macking sloppily. Artie and Sam were attempting to teach girls on his synchronized swim team how to play the guitar. Rachel was arguing loudly with Finn who looked about ready to punch Jesse’s face in, while Jacob Ben Israel watched writing furiously in his notebook.

And there sat Brittany on top of a freezer in the adjacent utility room, her head of golden curls resting softly on Santana’s shoulder. At the sound of Blaine’s entrance Santana snapped her head up like she’d been waiting got him. Jumping off her perch she practically ran at Blaine, raising her hands and yelling, “�Qu� es lo que hiciste? Te arrancar� la piel para una pi�ata y tendremos una fiesta sobre tu tumba! Al estilo de Lima Heights, cari�o! Tu, Tu...”

Santana screamed her tirade right in Blaine's face, barely audible over the nail against a chalkboard tone. The only words he could pick out from her ranting were pi�ata and Lima Heights, but from the way she was now shoving him roughly against a wall he knew very well she was not planning to throw him a party, unless it was for his funeral.

The commotion seemed to ignite the interest of the Glee club and everyone began to rush over including Finn who had to let go of the fistful of Jesse’s shirt that he’d currently been holding. As he restrained Santana like she was a screaming infant Blaine was pretty sure that she was attempting to kick both of them right in the plums. In fact she very nearly succeeded when Brittany stepped in front of her facing Blaine.

“What are you doing here Blaine? You said you weren’t coming to the party,” her voice had deviated a little from its usual monotone; it had a slight edge of anger but failed to hide the sadness in her eyes. “Well I guess I’ve lied to you three times now then,” he said taking a tentative step from the wall. Santana who’d calmed down when Brittany appeared gave a savage thrash in Finn’s arms so he stopped.

The irritation in Brittany’s voice melted into confusion, “What did you lie about? Green M&M’s really are a vegetable?” Blaine sighed, “Um no, they’re not um, but ok so one: I told you I wasn’t coming to the party and I did,” he paused counting the things off his fingers. “Two: I-I called you stupid –”

“That’s not a lie,” she cut in, the sadness in her eyes overwhelming now. The usual brightness was tarnished as she looked down at her shoes. “It is Britt and it’s the worst kind of lie, it was hateful and I can’t tell you how sorry I am for saying it.” Screw the wrath of Santana he thought taking a step forward so he could touch her shoulder. Breaking the gaze with her feet she looked up, waiting for him to continue. Finally she asked, “What’s the third lie?”

Taking his hand off her shoulder he reached into his back pocket extracting a pen and holding it up to Brittany. “Do you know what this is?” Taking the pen carefully out of his hands she held it, almost cradling it like a baby, “Well yeah it’s the magic pen. You need to put it away so its safe or-”

“It’s not, magic. I lied.” Confused she continued to hold it carefully in her hands but scrunched up her eyes and nose, like the way she did when they studied together. “Of course it is. I wouldn’t have gotten the right answers I did without it.”

“That’s the thing Britt, the pen isn’t magic but you are. And I-I know you’ve stopped believing in me and I deserve that but I swear it’s the truth when I tell you that I believe in you.” The room fell silent, only the muffled sounds of feet and music could be heard above them and Blaine continued to watch as Brittany processed the information.

Then she dropped the pen on the floor as she wrapped her arms tightly around him and Blaine was overwhelmed with relief. Everyone around them was clapping and if he’d looked up he’d have been surprised to see tears in Santana’s eyes, which were quickly brushed away.

“I never stopped believing you Blaine,” Brittany said holding him tighter, “That’s another lie. You have to stop lying or your nose is going to poke out people eyes like Rachel’s does.” Blaine shook with laughter hoping his sister hadn’t heard the comment; he’d had enough drama for one day, “O-Ok Britt.”

Breaking the hug she took a better look at him, raking her eyes slowly from his feet to his head, “Why are you dressed so weird?” He laughed, raking a hand through the back of his curls, “It’s a long story Britt.”

“Like a fairytale?” she asked, cocking her head hopefully. Blaine considered this for a moment and despite everything that had happened he thought that maybe it was just a little bit.

…………

Upstairs Kurt was perched on his kitchen counter swigging from a near empty bottle of wine, swaying ever so slightly on the spot as he stared with hawk like concentration at Jeremiah’s back, muttering under his breath. A gaggle of juniors were watching in awe as Jeremiah juggled shot glasses.

Mercedes walked over carrying a complicated looking cocktail, staring at the liquid like it was a lava lamp. “Look look Kurt! Jeremiah made me a Tequila Sunrise! Look it’s all reeeeeeeed at the bottom and Kurt… Kurt? KURT!” He jumped breaking his stare with Jeremiah and almost toppled off the edge of the counter, catching himself and his bottle at the last moment. “What ‘Cedes?” he asked irritated.

“Look at my drink Kurt, its amaaaaaaazing!” she crooned wobbling a little herself; this obviously wasn’t her first cocktail of the night. “Unless it’s mixed with the sweat of Taylor Lautner’s Abs I highly doubt it,” Kurt sniped taking another swig from his bottle.

Mercedes appraised Kurt critically over the rim of her glass as he continued to stare at Jeremiah. Pulling her lips away from the glass she put the drink on the counter and gave him a little shove. “Kurt what’s your deal? I’ve not seen the bitch face since Santana was made head cheerleader.”

Kurt let out an exasperated breath as he pointed at Jeremiah’s back with his bottle, “What’s he even doing here? Blaine’s never even mentioned him before. And and now he thinks he can just come to my party and take away my guests attention with his little flippdy flippy whatever drink making. And he looks like he’s forty what’s he even doing with a high schooler-school kids anyway and and… urgh why are you laughing?”

Mercedes was shaking violently, desperately trying to hold in her giggles. Kurt was livid as he jumped lithely off the counter, stumbling a little in spite of himself, “Well I guess I know who I should be directing my ‘bitch face’ at now,” he said voice venomous. “Kurt…I… Oh Kurt I’m sorry its just that its sooo… Oh baby, you’re so jealous! It’s adorable!”

“Jealous? Jealous! What do I possibly have to be jealous of?” He spat, spinning on his small heels, “You’re drunker than I thought. You need medical attention.”

“Oh please, you can’t hide it from mama ‘Cedes, she knows all,” she said waggling a finger at him as he downed the last of the bottle and strutted away. “ Hey, where are you going?” she asked grabbing her drink, which spilt in her haste to follow him.

“Going to go get you my straight jacket before you hurt yourself,” he said then turned around and tapped her lightly on the nose with the empty bottle. “But first we’re going to have some fun before the men in white jackets come to get you.”

…………

The Glee Club eventually dispersed upstairs to various corners of the house. Brittany and Santana were currently dancing with the other cheerio’s in their underwear, hearts and stars painted in lipstick across their bodies. Tina and Mike had moved their make out session to the coach next to Artie who failed to notice as Sugar sampled the last of her shots sprawled across his lap. Rachel had left with Jesse not long after Blaine and Brittany’s reconciliation, avoiding any more drama with Finn who was now the acting bouncer throwing out football players mimicking Jeremiah’s juggling with plants.

Blaine began searching for Jeremiah, guilty that he’d left him alone for so long at a party where the only person he knew apart from himself was Puck. After surveying the downstairs he finally decided to trek upstairs and see if he was in line for the bathroom or something.

As he made his way up he skirted around couples making out against the walls, knocking down pictures hanging on the walls until they were either hanging crooked or broken on the floor. Blaine picked them up as he ascended, leaving them on the windowsill at the top of the stairs. He wasn’t waiting outside the bathroom but he heard multiple voices yelling from Kurt’s bedroom as he crossed the landing to investigate.

As he strode through the door a ring of people sat on the floor burst out laughing. Embarrassed he flushed but he didn’t understand why they were laughing until he caught sight of the empty bottle of wine lying on the carpet, pointed at him like a compass as Kurt hovered over it on all fours, his expression dumbfounded.

Blaine’s stomach twisted violently in his body as he felt the overwhelming desire to vomit, “Just looking for my um friend, I should, I should just go now,” Blaine said turning around. As his hand reached for the knob he was suddenly thrust backwards by several hands pulling him into the centre of the circle. Mercedes hooted with laughter as she slurred, “Uh uh no no no, you know the rules Blaaaaaine, you gotta kiss Kurt. You can find Jeremiah after!”

At the mention of his name Kurt seemed to snap his wondrous eyes twisting into something primal. Pulling him by his wrists until Blaine’s body was a right angle, his legs flat against the carpeted floor he held his shoulders for support and sunk a knee either side of Blaine’s hips, effectively locking him in place.

“She’s riiight Blaine. You. Are. Mine,” he said cupping Blaine’s face between the palms of his hands. Everyone around them began to chant kiss kiss kiss kiss the tempo matching the hard and heavy thrumming of Blaine’s heart concealed low under thin veils of fabric and flesh. Fingers snaked their way into Blaine’s curls for an inescapably grasp before he was wrenched up, hard and fast against Kurt’s mouth.

Every breath in Blaine’s body was knocked out of him at once, as Kurt ground down relentlessly against him with an abrasive force not far removed from violence. Between the shock and lack of air Blaine tried hard to breath through his nose but it wasn’t enough and his mouth tore open in his desperation for air.

Kurt exploited the opportunity and dragged his mouth down locating Blaine’s lower lip. Between his own teeth and lips he sucked the hot slippery flesh; harder still when Blaine whimpered beneath him, until it throbbed like a pulse in his mouth. Releasing the pressure he lapped at the swollen surface with languid flicks of his tongue. Blaine moaned, drunk off the taste of crisp wine laced with melted honey.

Weightless and liquid Blaine found his hands tentatively locking onto Kurt’s lissom waist, anchoring him to spot for fear he might float away. Kurt responded by tangling his fingers deeper into his hair and pressing him backwards until Blaine’s back curved like a taut bow.

Somewhere along the way the frantic movement of Kurt’s lips had slowed down from their dizzying pace. Now he was working with the care of an artist, kneading the flesh like clay at his fingertips and brushing the skin like paint against a canvas until unidentifiable colours exploded behind Blaine’s trembling eyes.

When Kurt finally broke away, he hovered in limbo for a second over the short distance between their faces; his fluttering breath ghosting the dewy surface of Blaine’s swollen lips, which shook under the delicate pressure. He leaned in for one last short and soft kiss; just a soft graze on the pliant surface before pulling away entirely.

“Kurt,” Blaine spoke hoarsely, unable to open his eyes.

“…Sebastian…”

No…

No no no no no no no no no

This. Was. Not. Happening.

Life couldn’t possibly be that despicable, could it?

Blaine’s eyes flew open, the flecked irises resembling fissures of shattered mirrors. Searching Kurt’s eyes for reason he saw that they didn’t return his gaze. Instead they were locked on the figure of Sebastian standing in the doorway.