Kurt was eleven the fifth time he saw Blaine.

He remembered the day vividly. It was the first Sunday of the month – the only day, every month, he'd go up to his tree house. He did this for two years. He'd clear his head, think about his life, his parents, school, how he didn't have a single friend. Today he was thinking about how he'd have to give this tree house up.

This was the last Sunday.

"After that storm, that tree house isn't safe anymore, Kurt," his dad had said a few days ago.

But he had to say goodbye. This was the only thing he had left that reminded him of his mother – this and that dresser that smelled like her.

"I don't think you should be up here, Kurt."

Kurt, who was leaning against the windowsill that faced his neighbor's yard, jumped and span around.

"Blaine?" Kurt choked, holding onto himself as if he was literally going to fall apart.

"Seriously, Kurt, this tree isn't safe," Blaine said, apprehensively looking around.

"I just wanted to say goodbye," Kurt fought.

"You've had more than enough time. You really should go," Blaine said frantically.

Kurt narrowed his eyes at Blaine before turning away. He took one good look at the walls, covered his pictures and drawings, crafts and fabrics. He turned off the Christmas lights and faced Blaine. He was slightly glowing, again.

"This place is really unsafe," Blaine repeated.

"This place is the only place I've ever felt safe."

Kurt weaved passed Blaine, making his way down into the branches. When his feet touched the grassy ground, Kurt stared up, giving the wooden structure one last look.

"Your dad isn't home," Blaine said.

Kurt jumped again; Blaine was beside him. He shouldn't be so surprised. Blaine was just being Blaine. Annoyed, Kurt walked around the boy, not making eye contact.

"Yeah, so?"

"Did you want to be alone?" Blaine questioned, following close behind him.

"I'm just going to make dinner," Kurt answered. Blaine groaned. "What?"

Blaine sat up on the kitchen counter, crossing his legs. "I just get worried that you're going to burn down the house."

"I don't need you to worry. I can cook just fine."

Kurt snatched a cookbook from the rack on the counter, headed to the fridge, crouched down, pushed the book open on the floor, and then started gathering items into his arms. Blaine jumped off the counter and hovered over him. When Kurt stood up, they were face to face.

"Did you want to stay for dinner?" Kurt asked, feeling awkward.

"I don't really eat."

Kurt wasn't even surprised. Shaking his head, he side-stepped Blaine and dumped the ingredients onto the counter.

Kurt cooked, every so often looking to his right to find Blaine sitting on the counter again, watching, swinging his feet. It annoyed the heck out of Kurt. Blaine seemed to be the only person who wanted to talk to him; it was all so fantastic that Kurt was 80% sure that he'd made up Blaine in his head. So, that was good.

Kurt cursed himself for creating someone so infuriating.

After dinner, Kurt went up to his bedroom. Blaine followed. He almost slammed the door in his face.

Standing over his desk, Kurt muttered, "Why'd you show up this time? It's not my mom's funeral. I'm not in the hospital. And I'm not in a dumpster. So, what sad, sad thing happened that made you come out of a year's worth of hiding?"

"I just don't want you to be alone."

It was simple. Blaine, who was standing against the door, gave Kurt a quick smile – just a little upturn of his lips. Kurt, who had been defensive, heaved out a heavy breath.

"And I appreciate that, but I don't know what this is," he said honestly, walking towards Blaine.

"I'm your friend."

"No, I don't have any friends."

"Well, you have me," Blaine stated.

Kurt was really close now. "And what are you?"

Blaine looked at Kurt for a moment, his stare burning into his eyes. Then he shook his head, almost imperceptibly.

"Are you even real?" Kurt whispered.

Blaine bit down on the inside of his cheek, looking sideways at the ground. His breath hunched, and without making eye contact, he answered, "No."

Kurt's lungs collapsed. Looking at Blaine, almost hurt, he took a step back. His eyes rolled down Blaine's figure, taking him in. He looked real; he always did. But this boy was far too unbelievable to be real, in his opinion.

"That doesn't mean I can't be there for you," Blaine said suddenly. "I care about you, Kurt."

"Can you just go?" Kurt questioned.

Blaine froze, staring up at Kurt, looking absolutely broken.

"Like forever?" Kurt finished.

Blaine huffed out a breath. "I-I'm sorry. Yes. Yeah, I'll just...I'll go."

Not making eye contact, Blaine walked around Kurt, towards the door. He didn't open it; he merely walked through it. Gasping, Kurt run and ripped the door open, expecting to see Blaine trudging down the hall, but he was gone.

Something just snapped inside of Kurt. Blaine was gone.

"No!" Kurt called. "Blaine, come back! I'm sorry!"

But no one came.

The guilt washed over him fast. He'd never see Blaine again. He'd cast him away – his only friend. The guilt fused into pain and Kurt felt weak from it.

"Please," Kurt whispered, gripping the door handle.

"Kurt," Blaine sighed.

Spinning far too fast that he made himself dizzy, Kurt came face to face with Blaine. The boy in white just shrugged, looking apprehensive. Without thinking, Kurt lunged forward. He wrapped his arms around Blaine's shoulders, holding him tight.

It was the first time they ever touched.

"Oh no, Kurt! No!" Blaine gasped.

And then Kurt was suddenly hugging air.

Blaine was gone.

Six years later, Blaine hadn't left Kurt's side in about a week. He was everywhere, at every turn, around every corner. Blaine filled the little lonely hole left inside of Kurt – one Kurt hadn't realized was there until now, until he didn't have his dad anymore.

Walking out of the hospital with Blaine right behind him, Kurt began to follow the long stone fence encircling the building, and managed to get to the end of the parking-lot. Kurt lifted himself up onto the rocks; Blaine followed suit.

"Do you think he's ever going to wake up?" Kurt asked, tapping the back of his foot against the fence.

"Yeah, of course," Blaine says, patting Kurt on the back.

Kurt jumped, almost falling off the fence, but Blaine gripped his elbow, keeping him up.

"You touched me, Blaine!" Kurt gasped, looking down Blaine's hands around his arm.

"Um, yeah," Blaine said, letting go.

Kurt pulled his legs up to sit Indian-style. "The last time that happened..." He trailed off.

"I know," Blaine muttered. "I disappeared. I was scared."

"I know the feeling," Kurt said, brushing his knee against Blaine's thigh. Where it touched. Where he could feel the boy beside him. "Can I ask my second question?" Blaine nodded. "Where did you go?"

Blaine's eyes darted somewhere passed Kurt's head.

"Take out your phone," he said suddenly.

Kurt, with a confused look on his face, did was he was told. As he handed Blaine the phone, Blaine shook his head. He pointed to a car coming into the parking-lot.

"This is a hospital. If people see you talking to yourself, it won't be a far walk to the psych ward," Blaine said, pushing Kurt's hand towards him.

Understanding, Kurt brought the phone to his ear.

"And to answer your question," Blaine continued, "I never left."

"Paint me a picture. What do you mean?" Kurt asked, eying the people coming out of their car.

"You hugged me," Blaine began. "I just slipped out of your arms, but I was still standing there, staring at you, wondering how on Earth I felt you."

"And then where did you go?"

"What do you mean? I never went anywhere," Blaine chuckled, leaning back on his arms.

"So, whenever I told you to go, you stayed?" Kurt asked, dropping his phone into his lap as the family walked into the hospital.

"There's nowhere else for me to go."

Kurt looked across Blaine's face. He didn't look sad. Why didn't he look sad? That was an awful life!

"Blaine, you don't have to stay here. You can go wherever you want! I don't want to hold you back! I'd go to Paris or Italy or the moon, if I could. What's stopping you?"

Kurt was touching Blaine's arm, really taking advantage of the knowledge that he could reach out and hold onto Blaine.

"Kurt, I can't."

"Yes, you can!" Kurt said brightly, nodding. "If this is a permission thing, as the person you're guarding, I give you-"

"Listen, Kurt," Blaine said, shaking his head, "I can't. It's not like I don't want to. I can't. I wish I could explain it to you, but I don't understand why or what or...Kurt, I just-"

"It's okay, Blaine," Kurt assured.

"I'm fine, either way. Content."

Kurt sighed. "One day, I'll get out of this town, and show you the world. Promise."

Blaine smiled, and absentmindedly started to hum "A Whole New World." Kurt gasped, slapping Blaine's arm.

"Hey! You're not supposed to know that song!"

"Really? Because you watched Aladdin everyday for a year when we were little."

Kurt fused his eyebrows. "You really have been around my whole life."

There was an awkward silence where Kurt just thought of all the moments he inadvertently shared with Blaine. Birthdays. Happy moments. Sad moments. Everything, really.

"So is my dad's angel your mom or...?" Kurt questioned, getting out of his own head.

"I mean, I don't consider Melinda my mother, but I guess," Blaine answered. "She raised me."

"And my mom's..."

"Her guardian angel's name was Craig."

Kurt nodded, bringing his knees to his chest.

"Where is he?" Kurt asked softly.

Blaine shrugged. "I don't know," he answered honestly. "I'm sorry, Kurt."

"Were they married? Or loved each other – Melinda and Craig? Is she-"

"Kurt," Blaine interjected. "No, don't worry about that. We can't fall in love. They weren't."

"That's so...sad, Blaine. You mean, you can't ever... You won't ever..."

"I can't fall in love," he said, unphased.

There was a turning in Kurt's stomach, and he couldn't quite place the emotion, so he followed with, "That's okay. I won't ever find someone to love either."

Blaine shook his head, smiling. "Stop. Of course you will!"

"No, seriously, I am the only gay kid in all of Lima. At least, the only one willing to admit it."

"Well then, when you're showing me the world, we'll have to find you someone to love," Blaine declared then added as an afterthought, "I hope his angel's nice."

"Why? Aren't you all?"

Blaine's eyes bugged out. "No! That Rachel Berry's angel is an asshole!"

Kurt's mouth dropped open. "No! You're not allowed to curse! You're an angel – ruins the stereotype."

Blaine laughed, covering his mouth with his hand. Kurt laughed, too. He felt lighter, somehow, with Blaine next to him. Blaine would never be gone, and with his wings always tucked away, completely invisible to Kurt, Blaine was as human as human could be. Not a mythical creature- just a boy, a friend.

They both stopped laughing, but the smiles didn't drop from their eyes as they gazed at each other.

"KURT!"

Kurt would have fallen off the stone wall if Blaine didn't grab hold of his torso. Sucking in deep breaths, Kurt watched Finn running towards him.

"Hide," Kurt hissed into Blaine's ear.

Pulling back, Blaine looked at Kurt with an expression that read as wait-seriously?-no-one-can-see-me! Kurt mouthed an, Oh.

"Finn?"

"Kurt!" Finn called, out of breath. "Your dad-"

"What?" Kurt gasped, jumping out of Blaine's arms and off the fence.

"He's awake."

Teaser for Next Chapter:

When Blaine showed Kurt his wings the first time, they were fully white, with the slightest hint of brown along the rim. Now, the brown was slowly creeping up. Almost half of Blaine's wings were brown, like he fell in mud or got splattered with dirty water.

Kurt paced forward. Without thinking too much, he dipped his fingered into the still white feathers of Blaine's wings. They were soft, and Blaine let out a soft, affectionate noise.