Kurt panted, gasping like a recently beached merman. Within the space of mere seconds, a friendship that had spanned over half his entire life had been entirely flipped upside down.

There Blaine stood staring straight up at Kurt, his large golden eyes wide as he clapped, the effort making his glasses slip down his nose. Even as Blaine pushed them back up the bridge of his nose he never broke eye contact with Kurt.

Could Blaine tell what he was thinking? Kurt wondered, feeling more than a little queasy.

While Kurt pondered this possibility a tall man, someone’s father he assumed moved past Blaine, at last forcing them to break eye contact. A small throng of people, most likely his family moved along behind him. Once they’d gotten past, Kurt his stomach bottom out for the second time in five minutes seeing that Blaine’s seat had been vacated.

With the trance broken Kurt hoisted himself up, shimmying his ass onto the curve of the hoop and giving himself a better vantage point to scope the gym. Craning his neck in every direction he scanned the room for Blaine but couldn’t find him anyway.

Kurt began to wonder if he’d just witnessed some kind of mirage, (not out of he question given his recent inclination towards hallucinating) when he saw him. Blaine was moving towards the exit, brushed aside by a small stampede of teenage girls running past him and Kurt felt the familiar urge to protect him.

“Blaine…?” Kurt called quietly, his voice lost amongst the rambling excitement of the crowd bellow. But Blaine had gone.

Kurt wanted to follow him but he couldn’t, not hung up in the air like he was. And honestly, even if he was on the ground, even if there wasn’t a mass of people blocking his path, he wondered if he would.

It was all just too much right now, what with everything that had happened and now to realise he was in love with Blaine… he needed some time and space to put his feelings in order. Not that he’d be getting that any time soon.

Finally he snapped out of his reverie when he felt the slow crank, the hoop slowly began to low, causing his to twist in the air as he was slowly lowered to the ground. For the first time he looked down to the ground seeing his friends jumping around on the spot, hugging each other for dear life and still infused with adrenaline from their performance.

A couple of the faces gazed back up at him, waving their hands animatedly and Kurt responded with a faint flex of his fingers. Once he’d close enough to the ground to jump down he was taken by surprise as his ankles were yanked and he fell tumbling into the arms of his fellow Cheerio’s, chanting with him on their shoulders: “Kurt! Kurt! Kurt! Kurt! ”

His body was shaken as they bounced up and down, marching him and themselves out of the gym and into the hallway. They finally deposited him on the ground next to a bank of lockers, where Mercedes pulled him into a bone-crushing hug. “Kurt! Kurt! That was amazing, seriously you were incredible!”

Next to them Santana was waving her arms up in the air like a warrior crying out, “We nailed it! Those bitches are crapping their spanx!” And even Sugar was sliding in clapping her hands and bouncing on the spot, making a noise like an over excited puppy.

Brittany was, acting… peculiar, even by her standards. “Kurt where’s Sebastian, are you hiding him?” she asked lifting his shirt and exposing his milky flushed skin. He shoved it back down roughly and gaped at him. “Huh?! What are you doing Britt? I’m into hiding him under my shirt, he didn’t come. Look it doesn’t matter-”

“But he had to have come. You danced better than you have all week. How could you have done that without the special drink?” Brittany said wrinkling her nose in confusion.

Kurt bristled, his blood running cold inside his body as he stared silently at Brittany. Cocking his head to the side, eyes narrowed at the girl with the soft vacant expression he asked slowly, enunciating each syllable, “…I’m sorry can you repeat that?”

“The… oh wait I wasn’t supposed to say. Sebastian said it wouldn’t work if I told you about the potion he put in your drink. The one that gives you energy and makes you dance better. I saw him do it at the party but he said it had to be a secret or it wouldn’t work. But well I guess it doesn’t matter because we already performed and you danced great anyway.”

Somehow, Kurt managed not to explode. Despite the surging earthquake rippling in his body, hard enough to shatter his bones, make his skin burn, his teeth grind and his fists clench and curl, he held onto the particles that kept his body together.

Brittany as simple as she was seemed to pick up on these nuisances though and asked timidly, “Kurt. What’s wrong? You have the same look my baby sister gets before she punches my dad.”

Mercedes must have felt a tremor or something in the ground because she was walking over hands out in a calming, please put the knife down and let’s talk about this kind of gesture. “Kurt.. ” she said slowly.

“Give. Me. Your. Keys,” he pronounced each word in turn.

“Kurt I don’t know what’s happened but you need to breath and calm-”

“Give me your keys!” he spat out again, shaking.

“Kurt I love you but you’re acting cray cray, so there is no way in Lima hell you’re driving anywhere until you calm it! Now tell me what happened.”

Kurt was about five seconds from utterly loosing it when a hand clamped on his shoulder pulling him into a tight bear hug.

“Kurt! You freakin’ knocked that out of the park!”

“Giff meeth your keesh,” he muttered into the flannel, pushing away with his palms.

Burt held him back with his hands on his shoulders, concern burrowed in the lines of his eyes and forehead. “You’re not making any sense kid. Slow down and-”

“DAD! GIVE ME YOUR DAMN KEYS! ” Kurt shouted, shaking and balling his fists at his sides.

“Watch your mouth! And tell me what the hell’s gotten into-”

Kurt caught sight of glinting silver in his pocket and snatched the keys, bolting through the crowd towards the door. Somewhere is the haze were the calls of his father, Mercedes and maybe more. But Kurt couldn’t have told you what a single one had said. He threw himself into his father’s truck and screeched out of the car park, turning in the direction of Dalton.

* * *

No one in the universe would argue that Rachel Berry wasn’t the self-appointed Queen of the storm-out. Kurt was pretty certain she was literally born that way, storming out of the birth canal. What few people realise is that Kurt Hummel is, and always will be, the King and Queen of the storm-in.

Marching through the dorm hallways, he pushed past a baby-faced freshman carrying a stack of papers that exploded and fluttered in the air like fragments from a bomb. The boy might have been about to protest, but after he caught sight of Kurt’s expression, (“sassy terminator,” for the record) he scuttled under a nearby oak table until the coast was clear.

The crowds got thinner the closer Kurt got to Sebastian’s room, dwindling until it was just Kurt and his thunderous footsteps echoing in the empty hallway.
Kurt approached his soon to be ex-boyfriend’s door. He began to yell even before his hand touched the cool metal of the handle. “Sebastian! We need to t-” Kurt howled, knocking a striped Dalton tie off as he flung the door open hard enough for it to slam loudly against the wall.

“Seb! You said you locked the door!” the terrified voice of an unclad Warbler pealed around the small room. Kurt watched incredulously as a blonde haired boy (who he’d clocked as ‘out of a bottle’ the moment he’d seen him at the Lima Bean a month ago) scuttled to retrieve his clothes, which were strewn over the bed and floor.

With a cruel twist of his lips, Kurt let out a derisive laugh, nearly snorting with contention. “Wow, bravo, Sebastian. You’ve managed to revive the 80’s teen movie asshole. Way to resurrect a tired stereotype.”

Sebastian just grinned at him, infuriating Kurt further. He didn’t even have a shred of shame as he stretched out on his bed shirtless. Kurt strode up to Sebastian as the boy (Jeff, he remembered at last) scuttled past in his haphazardly thrown-on clothes, thankfully remembering to shut the door as he left.

“You’re one to talk babe; with that lipstick you look like you’ve just stepped off a pride float.”

Kurt slapped him. One vicious blow right across his smug, soulless face. A livid splotch of red blossomed on his face.

“Over-reaction much? Sorry you had to find out this way, but you must have known it was coming,” he gawped at Kurt, smiling. Smiling! It was possibly the most audacious expression Kurt had ever seen. Sebastian stood up, slowly stroking the sting on his face.

“You drugged me, you despicable leech!”

Sebastian’s expression wavered. “And who told you that? Blainey? The guy’s clearly jealous, babe,” he said, slithering slowly forwards. “Come sit and calm down.” Sebastian reached out a hand, circling it around Kurt’s waist.

“Don’t touch me!” Kurt spat, shoving Sebastian as he jolted backwards, knocking into a lamp. “I came here to tell you we’re over, not that it matters, apparently, seeing as you’re slutting about in the gutter with goldicocks anyway.” He took a deep breath, lowering his voice and glaring at the boy his heart had once fluttered over.

“After I leave here I’m going to the police and telling them what you did.”
Any trace of humour left Sebastian’s face in an instant as his eyes narrowed, the mocking jeer curling into a cruel sneer.

“Ok, Kurt, I get that it must have hurt your delicate pride to see first-hand that I’ve moved on. So I’ve indulged this little tantrum out of courtesy, but if you think for a minute that anyone’s going to believe this ridiculous little fantasy then you’re a fool.”

“Brittany saw you spike my drink!”

“And Brittany has less IQ points than eyeballs. No-one is going to believe her.”

“And Blaine. He saw you-”

“Putting my drunk boyfriend to bed. Nothing happened,” Sebastian countered, crossing his arms over his broad chest. “Face it Kurt, you haven’t got a leg to stand on. And let’s not forget, my dad’s a state attorney; after he has your case laughed out of the station, I’ll have him charge you with slander. So by all means, go down to the station and tell them whatever you want, because no one is going to believe you.”

Kurt gaped at Sebastian, open-mouthed, words failing him. He always had some kind of comeback itching to leave his lips, but right now, the only words inside his head were, Say something! Say anything! Don’t let him win!

But Kurt knew he’d already lost. So did Sebastian.

He began to snigger quietly as Kurt turned to leave. With one last surge of anger, split halfway between himself and Sebastian, Kurt brushed the lamp off his nightstand with a sweep of his arm before walking out of the dorm room for the last time.

* * *

Tooooooold yah!

Kurt almost swerved his dad’s truck when he heard the disturbingly familiar voice coming from just above him. When he reluctantly looked up, he saw that his hallucinatory little friend had remerged in the glass, grinning at him in his Cheerios make-up like the Joker… but exponentially creepier.

If this happened any more frequently, Kurt might have to finally swallow his fear and actually set foot in a hospital.

Groaning outwardly he replied, “You did not. You were cryptic and… oh god, I can’t believe I’m doing this again…”

I so did! You can’t deny it: first, I told you he was a scumbag, and second, well…

He grinned impishly.

I said you’d see.

Flicking his eyes from the road to the glass, Kurt caught sight of his reflection winking at him and he huffed dramatically.

“Urgh! Just…just be quiet! I’m trying to drive.”

Of course the apparition took no notice whatsoever of this request.

So, where are we going?

He practically sang the notes of the sentence.

“Home,” Kurt replied, his voice short and clipped.

Seriously? Seriously?!

“What? You sound like Meredith Grey,” Kurt chided, pulling up to a set of traffic lights.

Pfft, if anything, I’m Izzy Stevens. But seriously…seriously? What do you mean you’re going home? I can’t believe that you finally, finally worked out that you’re in love with Blaine… and you’re just going to go home!

Kurt’s double shook his head, exasperated. Ironically, Kurt was mirroring his reflection’s expression.

You swooned.

“Swooned?! ” Kurt gaped, his eyebrows leaping up his forehead as he idled at the junction.

You thought you’d fallen thirty feet; if that’s not swooning, well-

“Fine! Fine!” Kurt snapped, giving in, “Look, I need to wrap my head around all of this; I can’t just walk up to him and say I love you, can I?”

Well obviously not. First you’re going to have to apologise. Grovel too, come to think of it. Don’t forget, you’ve been a massive ass.

Kurt shot a glare at his reflection, but then sighed. It was true, and perhaps his two-dimensional self was onto something.

Mirror Kurt continued stoically.

Then, you lay your heart out there, confess your undying love, maybe even quote a little Celine Dion. You’ll run into each other’s arms and…

Mirror Kurt leaned forward, pressing right up against the glass and kissing it obscenely, the pink interior of his lips opening wide and wiping over the surface. Blanching at the spectacle, Kurt was startled by the sound of a honking horn.

Cursing under his breath, Kurt shifted into drive and drove past the now green light. As he drove forwards, he caught sight of his apparition drying off the mirror with an embroidered handkerchief.

So, I think you’ll find I have outlined your plan of attack as follows: Apologise, Grovel, Confess, Kiss… Apologise, Grovel, Confess, Kiss… Apologise! Grovel! Confess! Kiss!

It quickly became a chant, his voice becoming louder and louder until Kurt couldn’t take it any longer. He was just shy of north Lima when he pulled over into a side street, slamming his foot on the brake and making the image of himself slam up against the glass. He turned off the ignition, cutting out the noise of his dad’s truck with one quick motion.

Ouch! Why are we stopping? I can’t believe-

“Shut up! Shut up!” Kurt yelled abruptly, “I can’t hear myself think when you’re bleating at me!”

Kurt was panting, his heart hammering and his hands gripping the steering wheel until his knuckles stood out stark white and taut against the black leather.

Kurt rested his forehead against the cool hard curve of the steering wheel as he tried to process the barrage of thoughts racing through his mind. Eventually he leaned back against the headrest, his eyes closed.

He mumbled quietly, “What if he doesn’t want to see me? What if he won’t forgive me? What if he doesn’t want me?”

There was a long silence. Kurt drew in a long breath, his eyes opening slowly as he focussed on his own image watching him, identical except for his soft expression.

Isn’t Blaine worth the risk?

In the end, Kurt realised that this was the only question he should be concerned about, and he realised that he already knew the answer.

Restarting the car, he began to drive in the direction of Blaine’s house.

* * *

Kurt was close enough to the glass of the Lima Bean window that his breath had misted the pane. Humid and warm, it moved steadily out of his lips as he scanned the bar for Blaine.

Although he still begrudged the apparition of himself, a mix of genuine worry for his own sanity and irritation was pushing its way to the forefront of Kurt’s mind. Kurt was pretty sure that normal people didn’t have in-depth conversations with their own reflections. And dammit, was he really as snarky as his hallucinatory pal? It was a wonder he had any friends at all if he was. Anyway, despite his irritation with his two-dimensional counterpart, he had given Kurt some pretty clear instructions to follow, and to some extent, that was comforting.

In his mind, he repeated the four parts of his plan as he waited for Blaine to appear.

Apologise. Grovel. Confess. Kiss.

After which he would have to return home, tail between his legs, and apologize to his father, who was undoubtedly flooding his phone with messages even as he stood outside the coffee shop. But Kurt’s phone rested silent and black in his pocket.

At first he’d driven to Blaine’s house, but Blaine was not home. Unfortunately for Kurt and the contents of his stomach, his brother and Blaine’s sister had been. Kurt thought back to their interaction.

From the moment he’d arrived, ditching his car haphazardly in the Anderberry driveway, Kurt had been acutely aware of the pair. They were hard to miss, making out enthusiastically and examining the texture of each other’s tonsils on the front porch.

Kurt had sighed exasperated, feeling a little green as he stood over them.

“Rachel.”

There’d been no response other than more lip smacking and wet noises akin to the dying cries of a beached walrus.

“Rachel.”

Kurt had tapped her foot with the toe of his sneaker, his tone decidedly more frustrated. No response. Rachel had either chosen to ignore him or was just far too interested in trying to work out what Finn had had for breakfast.

After his second attempt, Kurt had contemplated vaulting onto Finn’s mammoth shoulders and crawling up the trellis like he sometimes did late at night. Instead, he decided to at least try a third time; it would generally be considered more polite than climbing over the couple.

“Rachel!” he’d bellowed, giving her a not-so-considerate shove.

“OW!” Finn had bitten her lip, and Rachel glared at Kurt as if his teeth had caused her injury while she rubbed her mouth, her eyes murderous.

“What?”

“Could you please stop sucking my brother’s face long enough to tell me where your brother is? Is he in his bedroom?” he asked, his eyes raised heavenward as he tried to decide if he should just circumvent decorum and vault over the horny primates.

Finn finally seemed to wake from whatever drug induced state he’d been in, looking up at Kurt with wide pupils and the soppiest grin on his face.

“Hey Kurt! Congratulations on the win!”

Kurt had stared at him blankly. It took him far too long to realise Finn must have been talking about Cheerleading Regionals.

“We won?” he asked absently. At that moment, cheerleading was the last thing on his mind…

Well, right after Sebastian Smythe, he’d thought vehemently.

“Yeah dude, it’s all over Facebook! You didn’t know?” he asked, surprised as Rachel shifted in his lap, kissing his neck.

“You guys actually managed to stop sucking face long enough to go on Facebook?”

“Had to change our statuses back to in a relationship, naturally. Not that that begins to touch on the love we-” Rachel began.

“Lovely as it is to hear that you two are back together, and I really couldn’t be happier,” Kurt interjected sarcastically, “I really really need to talk to Blaine. Where is he?”

“He’s at work. I – where are you going?” Kurt hadn’t had to look back to know that Rachel pretty much forgot their entire encounter immediately, going back to kissing Finn like they hadn’t even stopped. Well, Kurt was pretty sure that’s what had happened, because as he drove away, he could have sworn he heard the noises of over-excited manatees.

And so here Kurt was. Staring through the glass at the near-deserted shop late Saturday evening, waiting for the love of his life to appear. As he waited, he repeated his plan over and over in his mind.

Apologise…Grovel…Confess…Kiss
Apologise…Grovel…Confess…Kiss
Apologise…Grovel…Confess…Kiss
Apologise…Grovel…Confess…Kiss

Every time he heard the word kiss in his mind, his heart fluttered heavily in his chest and his toes curled in his shoes. Only a week ago, he’d kissed Blaine in his bedroom, surrounded by friends and drunk as his Aunt Mildred on Valentine’s Day.

Kurt had felt something then. Well he’d felt a lot of things: anger, jealousy, tingles in the tips of his fingers and toes…and eventually, something softer, something sweeter, something that had made him kiss Blaine a second time: a slower, more chaste kiss that had melted him from the inside out.

Of course, Sebastian had interrupted them before Kurt had any hope of decoding what the kiss had meant, causing a catastrophic chain of events that had quickly spiralled out of Kurt’s control.

Kurt felt a tug on his heart, as tangible as a child’s hand in his own, pulling at him and trying to get his attention. There! There! Look! Look, it’s Blaine! Blaine walked behind the bar, carrying a large bag of coffee beans, his shoulders straining under the weight and his glasses tipping down the bridge of his nose.

He looks exhausted, Kurt thought, a pang vibrating in his chest as he watched him.
All he wanted in that moment was to reach out and slide Blaine’s glasses back into place, to frame his face with his hands. Absently, Kurt stretched out a finger and drew a heart in the condensation, wrapping Blaine inside its lines.

This was it, no more time for hesitation, nothing else standing in his way. Kurt squared his shoulders, swallowed the lump in his throat and walked towards the door.

Blaine looked up, smiling with the kind of relief you only get when the person you want to see most in the world is walking towards you. It was a gorgeous and breathtaking sight, the kind that Kurt knew he would never grow tired of.

Maybe Kurt would have been smiling that way as well if he’d been the one Blaine was looking at. But he wasn’t. Before Kurt had even pressed his palm to the door, a familiar man had leapt out of one of the hidden booths and made his way up to Blaine.

Kurt watched in excruciatingly slow motion as Jeremiah pulled the bag out of Blaine’s arms and dropped it on the counter. Moving his hand up, he pressed Blaine’s glasses back into place and wound his arms around Blaine’s small waist, leaning down and drawing his face to Blaine’s.

Kurt turned on the spot, a pale hand flying to his mouth. It felt like he was going to be violently sick- like, the kind of sick that had the velocity to shove your organs out of your body.

Without a backwards glance, without even a word, Kurt left, moving quickly.
A painful thought occurred to him:

I’m too late.

* * *

It took a few attempts to slide the key into the lock when Kurt eventually got home, his hands shaking as they held the bundle of metal. Soon enough he was twisting the lock open and stepping inside the warm house, shutting the door by pressing the back of his body against it. Kurt’s eyes fluttered shut as he took one shaky breath, willing himself to walk up the stairs and crawl into bed.

“Kurt? I swear to god if that’s you, I’m gonna tan your hide and sell it as tires! You’re never too old for a good ol’ fashioned-” Burt yelled, coming into view as he exited the kitchen.

However, once he saw Kurt’s expression and the way he was just barely propping his body up against the door, he stopped short.

“Kurt?” he asked more softly this time, walking tentatively towards his son as if he was an injured animal.

“…D-ad…”

Kurt took a couple of shaky breaths before sliding to the ground and burying his face in his hands. Burt got down on his knees and pulled Kurt into a hug and Kurt finally let the tears fall from his tired eyes as he cried into his father’s flannel-covered shoulder.

* * *

Carole deposited a second cup of camomile tea into Kurt’s hand. Before she scuttled out of the room, she grazed Kurt’s cheek with her thumb, and he smiled softly at her.
“Thank you,” he croaked, voice hoarse from crying.

Burt was hunched over on the sofa next to Kurt, legs apart, leaning his forearms on his knees and scrunching his cap in his hands, knuckles taut.

“You should try a cup of this, Dad; it’s good for stress,” Kurt remarked hoarsely. His throat was still a little tender after spending the last couple hours sobbing and telling
Burt the story of the last week, piece by piece.

Over the course of his retelling, Kurt had needed to tread carefully, reiterating that he was fine, nothing had happened, well, not really. But he and Carole had still had to body-block Burt and calm him down when he’d wanted to bolt for the door. He’d sworn he would “find that bastard and drive my truck over his weasely little neck.”

With enough infallible logic, patience, and genuine concern for his health, he’d finally come back to the sofa where he was (in Kurt’s opinion) imagining what would have happened had his family not intervened, with his cap playing the role of Sebastian’s neck.

“I knew that punk kid was trouble, Kurt. I never shoulda left,” Burt finally said, removing one hand from his hat to drag his palm over his forehead.

“This isn’t your fault, Dad,” Kurt reminded him, uncurling one hand from his mug and laying it on his father’s wrist.

Burt cocked his head to look at his son and stared at him for a long while. Eventually, he took a breath and turned his hand over, taking Kurt’s hand in his own and squeezing it in a vice grip.

“Well, all I can say is I’m damn grateful Blaine was there,” Burt said at last, and Kurt’s hand went rigid in his grasp as his son felt the same vicious kick in his gut as he’d felt earlier when…

Tears misted Kurt’s eyes: preposterous considering the deluge that had already rolled down his cheeks tonight. But still they came, nearly clinging to his already-sticky eyelashes. Burt looked up at Kurt frowning, feeling the tension in his hand and noticing the sad gleam in his son’s eyes.

Kurt had skimmed over the details of his and Blaine’s fight, completely circumventing his realisation at the tournament and his later discovery at the coffee shop, even though it had been the catalyst for his meltdown.

“So, you gonna tell me what it is that you and Blaine have been fighting about now? Do I gotta go over there and-”

“No! Dad, I…” Kurt sighed, pulling his hand out of his father’s grasp and running his fingers through his fine chestnut hair.

“I’ll tell you. It’s just…complicated.”

“I’ve reassembled a transmission, I know about complicated Kurt. Stop stalling.”

Kurt took one last deep breath and began reluctantly, “Well, after Blaine and his friend got rid of… him, well, Blaine stayed over. To make sure I was safe. But when I woke up the next day, I felt really sick and disoriented. Blaine voice was so loud he was worried, talking about someone putting something in my drink-”

“Sebastian.”

“Right, yeah but… I didn’t know he was talking about him. The last thing I could remember was… Jeremiah, making me some ridiculous drink, with some equally ridiculous cocky expression and I didn’t know him so I just, I assumed it was him Blaine was talking about.”

Kurt sighed again, averting his gaze from his father, “We started to fight… ok, I started to fight. I was in pain and Blaine kept saying it was Sebastian, that I barely knew him and I felt like he was calling me stupid or something, and I just kind of snapped and I said something like… ‘It feels like I barely know you…’”

Kurt caught a sideways glance at his father who was sporting something of a grimace.
“Ouch, really Kurt?”

“I know, I know! And we haven’t spoken since, every time I try to text or Facebook or call-”

“You didn’t think about actually going to see him?” Burt asked a little incredulously.

“That’s not how it’s done. Besides, I haven’t seen him all week… well, except for outside Brittany’s test, but when he heard my voice or something he ran off in the other direction and I didn’t even see his face; he wouldn’t look at me. I thought after that, we were just…done, or however it goes with friends,” Kurt muttered reaching out for his tea and sipping slowly.

Kurt tapped the rim of the cup trying to decide if he should just get it over with and spill the whole thing. Maybe he can help?

Swallowing his mouthful, Kurt replaced the cup on the side table and began again.
“…There’s more.”

“Ok, Jeez, Kurt…” Burt said, a little exasperated, pinching the bridge of his nose, obviously expecting something else catastrophic, “Ok, shoot.”

“Well… I don’t know what happened. Blaine didn’t come to the tournament and I didn’t expect him to but I really, really wanted him to. But then you came, so there was at least someone. We performed and it felt incredible, like I was me again. At the end I was hanging in that hoop and…there he was, just sitting in the bleachers.”

I just… I couldn’t believe he came, Dad. We hadn’t spoken all week, I was a total asshole to him and… he still came.”

It still felt incredible now for Kurt to think that he’d done that, true to his promise that he’d never leave Kurt.

“I realised that…that… Oh god, Dad, I realised I’m in love with him!”

It came out in a rush and Kurt gasped a little; it was the first time he’d confessed this to anyone. Granted he’d only just realised this fact a few hours ago, but still it felt oddly liberating to get the feeling off his chest.

Burt began to chuckle to himself, and Kurt bitch-glared at his own father.

“This… this is so not funny! Why are you laughing at me?” Kurt crossed his arms petulantly over his chest.

“Simmer down Kurt,” Burt said, relaxing a little from his “more bad news” posture.

“I know.”

Kurt looked up at him incredulously.

“Huh? What do you mean you know? ”

“Remember when you came out to me, and I told you I’d known since you were three?” he asked Kurt.

“Uh huh, you told me it’s because all I wanted for my birthday was a pair of sensible heels. What’s that got to do with anything?” Kurt asked sceptically.

“I’m gettin’ there, hold your horses, kid,” Burt tittered.

Then he sighed and carried on, “Well, I sorta lied to you a little about that.” Kurt tilted his face towards his father, wondering where exactly he was going with this. “The truth is, I only thought you might be gay then. But I think I knew the day you met Blaine.”

“Really?” Kurt asked softly, eyes a little hazy at the memory.

“Uh huh, you talked about him non-stop, kid. And I gotta say, he came just in time too; it was hard for both of us, Kurt, and it helped a lot just knowing someone else was around looking out for you,” he finished, reaching out slapping Kurt on the shoulder

Kurt reached for his cup and drained the rest of his tea, contemplating what his father had just told him.

Is he right? Have I really loved Blaine all this time?

Eventually. he abandoned the cup and asked in a whiny tone, “S-so if you knew I loved him, why didn’t you ever tell me? ”

Burt shook his head, grinning.

“Kurt, come on, half the fun’s finding out! When you finally worked it out, did it feel like your gut dropped fifty feet?”

Whoa, has he been reading my mind?

Kurt pursed his lips, squinting at his father.

“…Maybe.”

“So, what’s stopping you from going after him? Tell him to meet you on the Empire State Building, go run through a fountain, jump out of a-”

“Dad,” Kurt began to giggle despite himself, vaguely pleased to realise that his father paid a little more attention during family movie night than he realised.

“You’re not really going to give up because of one stupid fight are you? Come on, I raised you better than that, kiddo! Besides, Blaine’s a good kid, he’s not gonna hold it against you forever.”

Kurt’s temporary smile faltered, his eyes dropping a little,

“He’s met someone else.”

Kurt took a long deep breath, the memory still jagged in his heart.

“After I confronted… well, all I wanted was to see Blaine. I had a plan, and I was going to do the big grand ‘I love you’ gesture right in the middle of the Lima Bean. But I got there, and he was with that other guy, Jeremiah… Blaine looked happy, and I couldn’t ruin it for him, not after the way I hurt him. He deserves to be happy… even if it’s not with me,” Kurt shrugged, flopping back against the sofa.

“Look, don’t give up Kurt. Be patient. I loved your mother, so much. I didn’t think I was capable of giving that kind of love again to a woman. But it’s all about timing,” he said tugging Kurt’s head onto his shoulder as he carried on, “Carole came to me at the right time. You and Blaine, well, it’ll happen when it happens.”

“But what if…”

What if it doesn’t? What if I’m too late? What if he doesn’t even feel that way about me?

“Timing, Kurt,” Burt said. He tapped his watch as if trying to drill the point home.

Kurt wasn’t going to get much else out of his father that evening, so with a yawn, he hoisted himself off the couch, stretching a little.

“Thanks Dad. I think I’m going to go to my room and clean this off,” he said, indicating the streaked make-up on his face and hands.

“The Pagliacci look is getting a touch morose.”

“Well, get comfortable in there because starting now, that room is your cell for the next week. Don’t be thinking I’ve forgotten your little grand theft auto stunt.” Kurt gaped at his father, resisting the urge to remind him that he was seventeen. It wasn’t likely to be do him any favours aside from bumping his grounding to 17 days.

“You can go out for school.” Burt stood up, retrieving Kurt’s cup to take to the kitchen, “And to the police station with me tomorrow. We’re turning that son of a bitch in.”

* * *

The kiss was a shock, light and gentle. Blaine smiled, touching the place where its warmth still lingered. With his glasses now in place, he looked up, catching a quick flash of movement in the window, a blur of red, white and black.
A familiar ache made his heart skip painfully in his chest but he shook his head.

I’m imagining things.

Blaine noticed it then, his eyes catching the movement of condensation trailing between the curved ridges of a heart drawn in foggy breath on the glass. It moved fast, then slower, fracturing the shape until it met the pointed end.

A broken heart, he thought as he watched it, a familiar knot tying in his stomach.
But Jeremiah was there, pulling him into his arms again, and Blaine went willingly, leaning his head against his shoulder and closing his eyes. When a hand settled in the small of his back, he felt… something.