Blaine had tugged a feather from out of his wings – long, like the same length as his forearm and brown – and was now twirling it in his hands absentmindedly.

"I was in a mental institution," Blaine said blankly. "I was crazy in another life, and I died from the Influenza."

"Well, you know you died. It shouldn't come as too much of a surprise," Kurt said, drowning his hair in hairspray.

"I was so young," he mumbled, placing the feather on Kurt's bedside table.

"How old did you look?" Kurt asked, looking at Blaine through the mirror as Blaine walked towards him.

"As old as we are now."

"Well," Kurt started, turning, "didn't you say your mother was telling the doctor you weren't crazy?" Blaine nodded. "Maybe you aren't...weren't."

"I was there long enough to die there," Blaine said, disgruntled.

Kurt placed his hand on Blaine's shoulder, squeezing softly. It was supposed to be encouraging, but Blaine's stomach only plummeted more.

"You can't let yourself dwell on your death, Blaine. It was a lifetime ago – literally."

Sighing, he said, "I know, I just thought I'd lived a full, exciting life. Not the life of a bound, crazy person. It's just...disappointing."

"In your next life then, you can be a skydiver and invent the cure for the common cold, but for this lifetime, let's go visit Brittany."

Brittany still wasn't out of the hospital, but she was awake. There never seemed to be an ideal time to visit her and ensure complete privacy. Members of the Cheerios or Glee Club were always camped out in her room. Tonight, however, there was a Titans home game, and everyone would either be playing, cheering, or rooting for friends/boyfriends in the stands. This meant no one would be bothering Brittany.

Kurt fiddled with the flowers he'd picked up on the way to the hospital, a cheap bouquet that had sat in distilled water for days at a time, but they were a nice gesture. Brittany's room was bursting with flowers, cards, and stuffed animals. The flowers overflowed into the hallway, they saw as they approached.

"Brittany!" Kurt exclaimed.

Brittany was sitting on her bed, reading the latest issue of some teen magazine (or rather, skimming through the pictures). She flopped her magazine shut using her good hand and smiled widely at Kurt.

"Kurt! You're here late. Isn't it passed your bedtime?" Brittany asked, accepting a tentative hug and the flowers.

"Bedtimes are only for weekdays," Kurt joked, sitting cautiously at Brittany's feet.

"Oh, it's the weekend? I never really learned how to read a calender," she said, quite chipper given the state of things.

"How are you feeling? Are you coming back to school soon?"

"The doctors said they'll let me know Monday, so that's in three or four days. I'm missing so much schoolwork though; they keep sending it home for me. See that mountain?" Brittany pointed to a chair a few feet from her bed, piled with books and loose paper. "They expect me to do all of that by myself. I think they're the ones who need brain surgery." Brittany tapped at her forehead.

Blaine knew something was out of the ordinary. Brittany was wearing a hat – small, knitted, gray which covered a fraction of her head what was wrapped in bandages.

"You should see my scar, Kurt," Brittany continued happily. "I have this huge bold spot, sort of like my dad, and there's this gross scar. It's shaped nothing like Harry's."

"Your hair will grow right over that, and you won't ever have to look at it again," Kurt assured.

"Right, everything will heal up real nicely, the doctors say. They can't cure my cat's syphilis though; I don't understand, but they can fix humans up real nicely."

"You might want to take him to a vet for that, Britt."

"Last time we did that, he mauled her face, and the vet before that. There's no one in Lima who wants to see Lord Tubbington. It's okay though. He was here today to see me. I had my parents sneak him in, but he still got out and into the kitchen. Silly cat."

Kurt laughed. "Did he escape?"

"Of course. He leaves the house for long periods of time, so I think he's either a drug dealer or working for the CIA. Either way, he's tricky," Brittany said seriously, narrowing her eyes for effect. "Kurt, thanks for coming to visit me. I wanted to see you especially."

"Why's that?" he asked, sounding completely taken aback.

Brittany smiled sweetly, reaching to place a hand on Kurt's.

"You were the one who saved me," she said finally. "I heard the doctors. If you weren't here, if you didn't notice my heart acting weird, I would have had a brain hemorrhage."

"No," Kurt said slowly. Blaine stopped breathing as soon as Brittany started saying it was Kurt who saved her. Surely, Santana talked to her about this.

"Yes!" Brittany chimed.

"I was here, but I didn't save you." Brittany took a second to study him, probably wondering why he wasn't taking credit for such a noble feat. "It was Santana. Santana was the one who called for the doctors. She was the one who noticed your abnormally beating heart. It wasn't me."

Brittany just stared. After a moment, she considered her words and asked, serious and confused, "Who's Santana?"

"No," Blaine gasped, drawing himself closer to Kurt.

"She's not here?" Kurt questioned, looking from Blaine to Brittany.

For the first time since being in the hospital, Blaine searched for the other angel.

"Santana!" he finally called. "Santana, can you please just come on? This isn't funny!"

"Blaine..." Kurt mumbled, touching his hand.

"Blaine?" Brittany questioned. "Who's that?"

"SANTANA! Santana Lopez! San- Sa..." Blaine broke off, his voice cracking.

"Santana's not here?" Kurt asked Blaine.

Brittany answered. "I'm pretty sure it's only you and me, Kurt. I don't know anyone named Santana. It's a pretty weird name, so I'd remember it."

"You should remember her!" Blaine yelled, getting into Brittany's face. Brittany didn't budge, however. Kurt pushed at Blaine slightly, trying to back him up. "She's been here your whole life! SHE SAVED YOUR LIFE!"

"Shh," Kurt whispered.

"I'm not talking," Brittany whispered back.

"I- I know. I mean, you seriously never met Santana? She's pretty, Latina, wears a lot of white?" Kurt questioned as calmly as possible, though from his face, it seemed like he was hiding a lot of other emotions.

Brittany thought for a second. It was taking her far too long to think. Blaine knew, when she didn't answer immediately, that Brittany had forgotten her angel.

"She doesn't remember," Blaine said before Brittany could.

"Doesn't ring a bell."

Kurt sighed. Blaine however was having a hard time hiding how he was feeling. He kept pacing around the room, mumbling, "She doesn't remember."

"Well, I think I'm going to head out – maybe go to the home game. Want me to send your love?" Kurt said, standing up.

"Yes, please," Brittany said, smiling.

"Night."

"Good night, Kurt," she said, waving. "Oh, and Kurt, I hope you find Santana."

Kurt smiled. "Yeah, me too. See you, Britt."

It was at least ten minutes before Kurt even touched his car keys, let alone fit them into the ignition. The two just sat in Kurt's car in the dark parking-lot, not saying anything.

"So, where is she?" Kurt asked finally.

"I don't know," Blaine snapped.

He noticed Kurt's body jerk, like he'd just been hit. After a deep, calming breath, Blaine apologized.

"I'm just as scared as you are," Kurt muttered, gripping the steering wheel.

"Are you? Kurt, you don't understand what Santana being gone could mean," Blaine groaned, massaging his temples roughly. "If Brittany doesn't have an angel, she's not safe. And that's just her. Where's Santana? Is she dead? What'd she die from? Too much exposure? Letting a human see her? All things that are a possibility for me! I'm going to end up just like her. And you're going to end up just like me...dead."

"That's not true, Blaine!" Kurt said. He placed a hand on Blaine's back, but Blaine jumped away, like it was burning. "They were careless."

"So are we," he said grimly.

"No, we ar-"

"Kurt, don't you see how stupid we've been?" Blaine shouted, and as soon as the quiet set in, he felt a surge of guilt race through him. Softly, he continued, "Eventually, my wings will be black because we're selfish and can't stay apart, and then one day something might happen to you, something that will force me to safe your life, ending my own. And what if that's why angels are here? What if I'm supposed to give my life up to save yours? I mean, of the two of us, you're the most important, right? You haven't been watching me all these years."

"So what, I'm just supposed to forget about you and you're supposed to disappear?" Kurt asked, his voice brittle.

"Maybe? Who knows anymore? All we know is that Brittany doesn't remember Santana."

"I'll never forget you," Kurt stated firmly, tears in his eyes.

"You can't say that. We can't say things like that anymore. It doesn't matter what we feel or think we feel because in a second they could all be gone. So why even bother?"

Blaine felt like he was choking. There was a lump in his throat the size of a watermelon, and every word he spoke felt like it could be cut off abruptly.

"So, what does this all mean? What's supposed to happen now?" Kurt asked.

"We have to stop what should have never started. It's not fair to you, Kurt. You shouldn't have to hide me like I'm your dirtiest, most private secret. I should have never shown myself to you. This entire thing is my fault. You could have a normal life right now, but instead, you're sitting in your car, talking to yourself. Or that's what people would see, isn't it?"

"Maybe you showed yourself first, maybe, but I called for you – sometimes everyday. So you need to quit blaming yourself. You have to stop being the bigger person, Blaine. And you're wrong. Of the two of us, I am nowhere near the most important. What if we're stuck together to save each other? There is so much wrong with everything you've been saying, starting first with saying we've been wrong."

"Kurt, this is crazy," Blaine said, staring into Kurt's eyes, his heart beating wildly in his chest. "We can't do this anymore."

"Okay, well then, what would happen if we stopped? My life would go on, right? I'd get out of high school, go to college, get a job. Have an ordinary life."

"I'd be a passive bystander, like always," Blaine concluded.

"And that wouldn't kill you?" Kurt probed. Blaine shook his head, no. "What about once I fell in love? Could you watch that? Me make a life with someone who isn't you?"

"Kurt..."

"Because I know that if you left, all I'd be thinking about is how badly you'd be hurting. You'd never let me see you though because you're stubborn; you'd just wait for the day to save my life – to fulfill your duty. But I'd never be happy. And you'd never be happy."

"I can't fall in love, Kurt," Blaine said sternly.

Kurt groaned, throwing his hands up in the air. "You keep saying that, but you can."

There was so much frustration in the way Kurt leaned forward, covering Blaine's mouth with his own. He dug his fingers into Blaine's hair, sucking at Blaine's bottom lip, pulling him in closer. It took Blaine a second to get over the initial shock of being kissed with to much fervor and intent and to just kiss back. In response to Blaine, Kurt huffed a sigh against his mouth and wrapped both arms around Blaine's shoulders.

When Blaine finally began to think straight, he pushed Kurt away. The other boy didn't look offended, however. It looked like he expected Blaine's reaction.

"You're in love with me," Kurt sighed after both caught their breath. The frustration was back and tears brimmed his eyes. Blaine knew it wasn't formed into a question, but he marked the words as Kurt's fifth and final one. "Don't go."

There was a beat, a second for Blaine to just draw back, but it was too late and the words that barely formed in his head were already spilling out of his mouth.

"Of course I'm in love with you, and of course leaving you would absolutely kill me."

Hearing Blaine say those words, finally, made Kurt reach forward. With their foreheads pressed together, Kurt said, "It'd kill me too, and if you're supposed to save my life, then don't go. Just...please save me?"

And for a second, Blaine thought of this life: staying with Kurt. He could keep him safe. He could be happy, letting Kurt be happy. And maybe everything that happened to Santana and Brittany wouldn't happen to them.

"I need to get away. I need to think. I can't think straight with you around, and you're always around," Blaine babbled, kneeling against the seat, the top of his head passing through the car roof.

"Where are you going to go? Can you even leave?"

"I can try."

And with one last look at Kurt, Blaine stood and left the car. As he walked away, he could see Kurt saying something – calling something after him, probably, but he couldn't make out the words. Blaine walked parallel to the stone fence, towards to entrance of the parking-lot.

Suddenly, there's a pull in his gut. It was light, not so forceful, but it was evident. Blaine walked on. At this point, feeling this pull would make him rush to Kurt's side; next to him, the force would instantly die.

As he passed the gated entrance, the pull became harsher, more stabbing than annoying. It felt like there was a wire roped around his middle, tugging forcefully, consistently. Blaine trudged forward.

It took ten or so more feet for the feeling to switch from pull to ache, and then it was ten more feet after that to turn the ache into pain. It got worse with every step, and in his head, Blaine though that if he ever looked back in Kurt's direction, the pain would lessen.

One more step.

And Blaine collapsed.

He didn't know what part of himself to grasp; everything hurt. It was like he was on fire, and he would have checked to see if it was true, but even moving his eyes caused him pain.

Immobile, unable to even call someone for help, Blaine was stuck.

After ten or so minutes of excruciating pain, Blaine decided he'd never feel this way again – even if that meant never leaving Kurt's side.

The pain subsided completely.

When Blaine opened his eyes, he expected to see Kurt.

Instead, he saw white - pure, clean, and untouched.

Teaser for Next Chapter:

"Blaine," Kurt whispered, "if you're here, I mean, I hope you are, or I'm talking to myself." He chuckled once. "If you're here, I just- I'm sorry for being so...forceful. I just...love you. I think that should be enough for you to stay."