"Blaine," Kurt whispered over the steady beeping of his father's heart monitor.

He was leaning into the white bedspread, elbows tucking the sheets into his father's side. He mumbled Blaine's name into his knuckles, scared that someone, anyone would hear aside from Blaine.

But wouldn't it be something if Kurt's dad woke up to him talking to himself?

This hadn't been the only time Kurt's tried summonsing his "angel" (the phrase forced a chill down his back). Whenever he had a quiet moment – which happened a lot because Carole and Finn usually left him alone whenever he wasn't staying in his huge, empty home – he called for Blaine.

When Blaine showed him his wings, Kurt started asking all of these questions, and that had made Blaine freak out! He'd disappeared in less time than it took to blink.

"Just tell me if my dad's going to be okay, will you?" Kurt mumbled, pressing his forehead into the sheet.

The steady beeping of the machine soothed Kurt. He shut his eyes and rested against his father. How he went from calm to frantic within a second basically described Kurt's life.

Beep. Beep. Beep. Beep. "Kurt." Beep.

And he jumped, screeching his chair across the floor.

As white as the rest of the room, Blaine appeared, standing beside Kurt. He backed away slightly because of Kurt's reaction.

"Sorry," Kurt gasped, slowly moving beside his father again. Kurt took his dad's hand, partly as a means to keep himself steady.

"No, I'm sorry," Blaine muttered. "I didn't mean to scare you."

"You know, a nonexistent human just appearing out of thin air wouldn't scare just anyone," Kurt retorted.

"Maybe I should have a signal that I'm coming," Blaine offered, tucking his hands into his pockets.

Kurt leaned against the plastic lining of his father's hospital bed.

"Does that mean you'll be showing up more?" Kurt questioned.

"I-" Blaine's mouth opened and closed like a goldfish. "I- I shouldn't..."

Kurt shrugged, turning away from Blaine. "Do whatever you want, Blaine. Not like I have a say."

Kurt stole a glance sideways, and Blaine looked guilty, dipping his head towards the white tiled floor. Blaine started forward slightly.

"...Kurt."

"Did you come because you heard my question?" Kurt asked, still not making eye contact.

"I don't know," Blaine said. Kurt huffed out an annoyed sigh. "I mean, I can't tell the future. Melinda says he's doing well, so-"

"Wait. Who?" Kurt interrupted, finally turning, dropping his father's hand.

Blaine looked sideways. "Um, she's your father's angel."

Kurt looked up at Blaine doubtingly.

Blaine continued, "Every single person has an angel to guard over them. We're born with you."

Kurt narrowed his eyes in a ew-why-are-you-telling-me-this? kind of way.

"Too much info?" Blaine assumed.

"Not exactly the info I was asking for."

Blaine nodded slowly, approaching. He looked like he was walking on egg shells, and if Kurt had looked closely enough, he'd realize the soles of Blaine's feet weren't even touching the ground.

"I don't want to tell you too much," Blaine confessed. "Because, well, you're not supposed to know about me in the first place." Kurt was about to argue, and undoubtedly bring up the fact that Blaine showed himself to Kurt first, so Blaine continued, "Five questions."

"The game is twenty questions."

Blaine smiled and Kurt noticed that his teeth were as white as the rest of him.

"We aren't playing a game," he said.

Kurt stood up, making him eye-to-eye with Blaine as if testing him. When Blaine didn't budge, or disappear, Kurt nodded.

"Question one-"

"You only have five, so use them wisely," Blaine reminded him.

"Question one," Kurt repeated, "why you? I don't even know you. Why not my mother?"

"Technically, that's two-"

Kurt's "Blaine!" was slightly exaggerated.

Blaine grinned and flopped down onto Kurt's father's bed, not making contact with anything at all. He really looked like he was sitting; it was so strange.

"It isn't like the lottery, Kurt," Blaine started. "I've always just been there, watching over you for as long as I can remember. Do you want to know my first memory?"

Kurt was slightly hesitant, but agreed.

"We were three, I think. Your birthday was approaching because I remember you had lists of potential presents sprawled across your little desk. You couldn't write, so it was just drawings of things you wanted, and let me tell you, you wanted some crazy things!"

Kurt laughed, remembering that list. It was fourteen pages long.

"When you showed the list to your parents, they were floored. Melinda and Craig – your mother's angel – were laughing their wings off! Your mother insisted that you could only have one thing. You looked so crushed; I mean, you worked on that list for weeks, but you searched the pages and found the tall, red heel, and exclaimed, 'I want a pair of sensible heels!' That was my first memory."

Halfway through the story, Kurt's knees turned to jelly. He collapsed into the chair beside his father.

"I don't think it's random," Blaine said. "I must have known you in another life – cared about you or something. You must have been important to me sometime, somewhere."

Kurt gulped, feeling suddenly cold. This was a lot to swallow.

"But I don't know, honestly," Blaine finished.

Hugging himself, Kurt muttered, "Waste of a first question," even though that was more than enough information for one answer.

Biting at his cheek, Blaine slide off the bed. "I'll just leave you."

And as Blaine started to fade, Kurt jumped forward, and his hand passed through Blaine's arm. Blaine rematerialized.

"Yeah?"

"Just...if I call for you, Blaine..."

"I'll be here. I'm always here, actually," Blaine laughed, warm and happy.

Kurt bit back a smile. "I think a signal would be smart," he said as an afterthought.

Blaine hummed. "I'll send a glowing light before I pop in."

Kurt remembered Blaine's light in his dark room, a few nights ago, and shivered.

"Okay," Kurt agreed. "I just have to ask you something, and I'm not using one of my questions!"

Blaine smiled, folding his arms across his chest. He nodded, motioning for Kurt to proceed.

"Where are your wings?"

This question had been eating at Kurt since Blaine appeared at his side a few minutes ago. Those huge, white wings were hard to miss, and now they were just gone.

Blaine shrugged, then looked over his shoulder as his wings extended over him. Kurt held his breath; they were memorizing.

"If I tuck them real close, they disappear," Blaine said simply.

He reached across his torso and touched the edge of his wing, stroking the feathers. Kurt thought it was an odd gesture then saw the look on Blaine's face: concern.

Kurt stared for a long second at the white wings, lined with brown feathers along the edges. What was Blaine so concerned about?

Kurt was nine the third time he saw Blaine.

It was at a hospital, too, and hospitals were becoming one of Kurt's least favorite places.

Earlier he'd gotten surgery on something in his neck. ("They're putting bolts in your neck to hold your head on straight," his dad joked, "like Frankenstein.") But as much as he begged his dad to stay the night, the nurses wouldn't have it, so Kurt was alone.

He was curled under his sheets, trying his hardest to fall asleep, but everything caught his attention: the broken street-light that flickered directly outside his window, the shadows of workers that drifted passed in the hallway, every creak his bed made. Kurt was actually fully awake.

"You should really go to sleep," a voice whispered.

Kurt, who was on his side, facing the cracked door, flipped onto his other side. Sitting on the empty bed next to him was Blaine. He was ever so slightly glowing.

"I was just about to!" Kurt fought, tugging the blankets closer to his chin.

Blaine chuckled, laying flat on the bed, hands cupping the back of his head. He turned his head to look at Kurt.

"Is that why you were staring out the window for about an hour?" he retorted, pulling his gaze away from Kurt, smirking.

Kurt made a disgruntled noise. "That's so creepy, Blaine."

"Shhh, go to bed."

Ugh, you come at the worst possible times! Kurt thought.

Annoyed, Kurt rolled over so he wasn't facing Blaine anymore. He wanted to ignore him, but there was the tiniest, littlest part of his brain that wanted to know Blaine. And this tiny, little part was seriously banging on the inner walls of Kurt's head, forcing him to stay awake.

Nonetheless, Kurt shut his eyes, and muttered, "I'm going to just fall asleep, and then you're going to be gone when I wake up. That's what happened last time, at least – in my tree house."

Blaine's voice was suddenly closer. Kurt didn't even hear him get off the bed. "Are you mad at me for that?"

"Sometimes. Right now, I'm just going to pretend I'm dreaming you up."

Blaine laughed. "This isn't a dream."

Kurt peered over his shoulder. Blaine was standing beside his bed. The light in the window flickered off, but Blaine retained a soft, clear glow.

"Why are you glowing then?" Kurt said dismissively, turning away.

"I'm just getting used to some new things that are happening to me," Blaine said.

"Don't worry, I heard Noah Puckerman and Finn Hudson talking about that in gym the other day. It's supposed to be normal. I'm not sure what they're talking about," Kurt whispered, eyes getting heavier.

"You're falling asleep," Blaine said with a soft laugh.

"I am not," Kurt yawned.

"Goodnight, Kurt," Blaine whispered, his voice pulling away with each syllable.

And then Kurt was asleep.

In the morning, Kurt was right. Blaine wasn't there. In his head, he told himself that the night before was all definitely a dream, but his better judgment was saying it wasn't.

Then he remembered something he said to Blaine. About glowing being normal for boys his age. Glowing was not normal at all.

Which made Blaine...what?

Teaser for Next Chapter:

"Don't you wish you had your own life?"

"I do."

"You don't. You just exist in mine. Don't you ever get happy or sad or feel anything?"