Kurt looked up from his note book, startled. He was surprised that he did not hear his father enter his room. He had been in study mode for most of the afternoon and had barely moved from his position on the bed.

'I'm just reading over my notes,' Kurt replied. In reality, his mind had drifted to Blaine for the past half-hour and he wondered if the other boy had returned to Ohio.

'Well, you've spent five hours looking over notes,' Burt answered, taking a seat on the edge of Kurt's bed. 'I know you're used to being cooped up all the time, but if you continue like this, you're gonna start losing brain cells instead of making new ones.'

Kurt stared down at his handwritten words as he quietly traced the dried ink with his fingertip.

'Dad, I really want this.'

'I know…' Burt paused. 'It's that boy from Dalton - Blaine, isn't it?'

At the mere mention of Blaine's name, Kurt felt an overwhelming warmth expand through his chest. The familiar ache in his heart returned, the same one that had left him lying awake in bed for a few nights after Blaine had left for Paris; he didn't think he could ever miss anyone so badly. Kurt sighed and closed his note book.

'I owe him so much. He came back to visit me even after I told him what I had done. He's shown me nothing but kindness and…I feel happier when I'm around him, I really do.'

Finn's loud announcement from somewhere in the house cut through Kurt's reverie.

'Mom! I'm going to McKinley to visit Puck!'

'Okay!' Carole shouted back. The bedroom was silent once more.

Kurt looked up at his father and despite what was happening within him, he could feel himself smiling.

'He's just like me, Dad.'

'Really? How so?'

Kurt didn't respond, and after a brief pause he heard his father reply with 'Oh.' Burt sighed, but it sounded to Kurt as it if was in relief.

'I'm glad to hear it. You're smart, Kurt. You'll get in.' Burt rubbed his son's shoulder before standing up and stretching.

'Now…will you mind helping out in the kitchen? I left the souffl� in the oven and I don't know how long it's supposed to stay there.'

Kurt felt his mouth drop open in horror.

'Dad – souffl� should never be left on its own!'

'Well, I tried calling you before to help me out…' Kurt ran past his father, hoping that he might be able to save what was left of the dessert.

…

Blaine drove around to the back of the school where the sidewalk met the fence along the exercise yard. He put on the parking brake and killed the engine. One of the things he appreciated about his summer break was that he had time to get used to his new car, which his parents had organized for him before they left for Paris. However, his first thought from returning to Ohio the day before was to visit McKinley, and more importantly, Kurt.

He thought he would hate his time at the Parisian language school, but he discovered that that there were certain aspects of it that he actually enjoyed. He didn't have to wear a uniform, for starters, and he became proficient at ordering his lunch while on their hourly lunch breaks. There were certain things in Paris that reminded him of the boy who was waiting for him back home: the delectable scent of a cinnamon bun he purchased one morning at a patisserie; the slender marble hand of a fountain statue; the sight of a young gay couple kissing on the grass near the Eiffel tower. However, Blaine's first week was spent trying to avoid the advances of a blonde Swedish girl, who was convinced that he was attracted to her. It was only after she witnessed him sketching Kurt's name in a love heart in his note book that she realized he wasn't interested, and Blaine was thankful when she stopped attempting to flirt with him.

He stepped out of the car and carefully approached the back fence, craning his neck to see if anyone was there, but the place seemed empty. Blaine hoped he would be allowed a visiting appointment at McKinley's reception and he made note to move away, but a deep voice stopped him in his tracks.

'Hummel ain't here, if that's who you're after.'

Blaine looked over to the source of the voice. A hooded figure of a young man was sitting up on a ledge nearby, smoking. He hopped down and removed his hood, and Blaine recognized his distinct Mohawk hairstyle immediately. He didn't flinch as the taller boy leaned his arm against the bars of the fence, dangling his cigarette through a gap. Blaine tried to remain still; he felt he had to keep his own voice cool and detached.

'Oh. Did he get released?' Blaine asked, his expression unconcerned.

'Around four weeks ago.' Blaine felt his insides doing a little victory dance; Kurt was free. Now all he needed to know was where to find him. But he knew he had to exercise both patience and caution.

'May I ask what your name is?'

The boy took a drag from his cigarette.

'People around here call me Puck.' Puck blew out a cloud of smoke through one of the gaps. Blaine blinked, but once again resisted from sudden movement.

'I've seen you around before. You're that little fag from Dalton.'

'Actually, my name is Blaine,' Blaine answered coolly.

He watched uneasily as Puck grinned, baring some of his teeth.

'Right. So…where's your blazer? Is it the weekend or something?'

'Actually, I'm on summer vacation,' Blaine replied. 'I don't return to Dalton for another month and a half.'

'Damn, no wonder it's been so quiet around here.' Puck squinted as the sun bore down on him. 'So,' he said, smoothing down his own t-shirt. 'Does it work? Picking up chicks, I mean.'

Blaine's answer came to him in a flash:

'Well, I've never actually used it to pick up chicks.'

Puck nodded absentmindedly, but after a moment he gave a bark-like laugh as he understood the meaning behind Blaine's words.

'Guess that's how you bagged yourself Hummel then, huh? Smooth, bro.'

Blaine felt himself relax a little, nodding to Puck in assent. But he still needed to know what had happened with Kurt.

'Any chance that you might know where Kurt is?'

'No clue,' Puck replied, and Blaine felt a wave of disappointment wash over him. He watched as Puck dropped the cigarette on the ground, stubbing it out with one of his thick rubber soles. 'Come back in a week – I'll have the info for you by then.'

Blaine had spent over a month and a half without Kurt, waiting for the day when they would be reunited once again. He could surely wait another week.

…

Blaine returned to McKinley one week later, exactly the same time as his previous visit. After waiting for twenty minutes, he saw Puck emerge from the school building and stroll across the empty exercise yard, over to the fence where he stood waiting.

'Sorry bro,' Puck said, though he didn't sound like it. 'Was out having a ciggie with the officers.'

He couldn't deny that Puck had been out for a smoke (he reeked of it), but Blaine couldn't believe that the officers had been so careless as to allow it.

'Do the officers let you smoke around them?'

'Course,' Puck replied, shrugging his shoulders. 'They know I ain't going nowhere.'

Blaine felt a sudden tinge of sympathy for the other boy; he heard a slight bitterness in his words, despite his determination that he wasn't going to change any time soon. Puck gave a quick glance behind him before leaning forward eagerly, as if he was about to reveal a big secret.

'Word I got from Finn is, he'd been doing three weeks out at some place. He wants in and he needs to prove himself, so if he does well, they might take him on as a student or something.'

It took a little while for Blaine to process Puck's words.

'As a student?' Blaine asked. 'Where?'

Puck didn't answer him straight away.

'Just some punk-ass rich school. I don't think you would have heard of it.'

Puck was staring at him, his lip slightly curled in a smirk. Blaine frowned and directed his line of sight elsewhere.

No, it couldn't be.

Could it?

He hadn't noticed that Puck has walked away, and they were now a fair distance apart. Blaine felt he almost had to yell for Puck to be able to hear him.

'Wait - hold on…are you saying it's - '

'I'm not at liberty to disclose, bro,' Puck called back before disappearing into the school building. He left the other boy standing by the fence, looking on in frustration.