"Kurt, can you tell me what the date is today?"

"August 24th, 2013. Why?"

"Because that means you've gone almost the entire summer without going home once," Rachel said, stepping in front of him to block his view of the TV. "Your dad must be worried sick."

"He knows I'm fine, I taught him how to Skype," Kurt said dismissively, resigning himself to missing part of Real Housewives to talk to her. At least it was a rerun.

"You could have gone home with me two weeks ago," she continued. "It's not like we're from different parts of the country."

"No, but I was busy. Work."

"You could have taken a few days off. You don't have to work yourself to death, you know."

Kurt sighed. "That's why I'm using today to catch up on as much brainless reality TV as I can, as a stress reliever."

"Kurt, I'm serious!"

"I am too, Rach. I wish I could go home, but I can't. I need to save money for next semester's books and supplies, and I just don't have the time." I can't risk tricking myself into thinking I can find him, either. Because it's impossible. Because it'll hurt too much if I'm forced to accept that.

"Alright, I guess if there's no hope in convincing you that you're effectively shutting yourself away from your own family-"

"Rachel, get this into your head. I love my dad, I love Carole, and I even love Finn. Just because I don't get to see them doesn't mean I don't care about them." The conversation was starting to wear on Kurt's patience, and he knew that it showed in his expression - not that he particularly cared at the moment.

"But-" Kurt abruptly got up from the couch and headed for the kitchen, where his phone sat on the counter. He put it in his pocket and turned to Rachel, gesturing towards the door.

"I need some air. That's code for 'alone time,'" he added when she moved to follow him. She nodded; at least she looked regretful, and Kurt very nearly gave up on his storm-out. But then he felt an especially strong tug in his wrist, and he took that as his cue to leave.

He made his way down the hall of the apartment building, deciding on a whim to take the stairs up to the rooftop. He wasn't technically allowed up there, but no one had ever directly denied him. Actually, he was pretty sure that whatever security cameras there might have been no longer worked.

He opened the door, reveling in a slight breeze that barely provided relief from the sun's heat. Kurt momentarily thought about returning to the loft to put on sunscreen, but he decided against it, choosing instead to sit against the ledge in the large patch of shade provided by a neighboring building.

Kurt felt high-strung, anxious, as if he was running late for something, which made no sense. He'd had no plans for the day except to lounge around the apartment - so much for that, he thought bitterly.

Though, as he thought about it, Rachel did have his best interests in mind. She usually did when she wasn't after something for herself, after all, and even those cases were getting scarce as she matured. Kurt had to admit that he probably should have gone home at some point over the summer. He just didn't think he could deal with feeling the pull weaken so much as to almost disappear again, not now that he'd gotten used to the way it is now. It would give him false hope.

That still wasn't a fair reason not to visit the people he loves.

He took his phone out of his pocket and started a new call.

"Hello?"

"Dad, hi," he said, breathless though he didn't know why.

"Hey kiddo, what's going on? The city still treating you right?"

Kurt laughed; Burt asked that every time they spoke. And every time Kurt answered the same way: "Like an impoverished prince waiting in line for the throne."

"One of these days I'll ask you that and you'll say that you've been made king." Kurt could see him now; sitting in his armchair, ESPN on the television screen but muted because "I don't care if the damn news station is reporting that the States are splitting into separate countries - there's nothing on that screen more important to me than hearing my son's voice."

"God, I hope so," Kurt muttered, thinking about his upcoming classes and the slew of of opportunities sure to come with the new semester.

"So is there something you wanted to talk about?"

"Well, I-" Kurt hesitated. No time, no money, can't handle it, god you're a mess right now. "- I just wanted to ask how you're doing." Smooth.

"I don't believe you, but we're fine over here. Carole's trying to teach Finn how to bake a cake or something, I think."

"Well, if I hear that the house has gone up in flames, at least I'll know why." Kurt knew that his dad was itching to ask him directly what was wrong, and he braced himself for it as they went on to talk about other inconsequential things. From Finn's children's league flag football team and the crazy customer Burt had dealt with at the shop last week to Carole's ever-improving eye for fashion, nearly every trivial subject imaginable came up.

But not once did Burt ask what was wrong, and Kurt realized that he'd have no answer even if he did ask. Truth be told, he was ashamed. Ashamed that he'd let something like the Letter play a part in manipulating his life even after he'd practically sworn against it.

They said their farewells, Kurt a bit regretfully, and the line clicked dead.

He sighed as he tipped his head back against the concrete ledge, looking out over the opposite edge of the building. The sun was setting and the colors flashing brilliantly, reflecting off the many windows he could see and lending a sort of ethereal magic to the city. He smiled; this was the New York he loved.

Another forceful tug, and the moment vanished as Kurt pulled off his cuff in frustration. The Letter looked just the same as ever, and that irritated him for some reason. He didn't have much time to dwell on that though; he felt it again, stronger this time, and something in him began to panic. There wasn't anything he could do, though, except watch the sun set as the sensation grew in strength.

Please don't go, a quiet voice pleaded in the back of his mind, far from his resolve and his fairly steadfast decision to avoid the matter entirely. He had to wonder if maybe it was from his heart.

"Are you at the airport yet?"

"Coop, I'm already sitting on the plane. Have you been listening to me at all?"

"Oh, sorry Sq- I mean, Champ. Little man?"

"I believe in your ability to come up with a suitable brotherly nickname for me, but we're going to take off soon."

"Alright, alright. I'll meet you when you land. Do you need me to carry one of those big signs?"

"Your overblown head is good enough for me."

"Ha, funny. See you later, Koda!"

"Did you just-" The line clicked, leaving Blaine taken aback. "He just referenced Brother Bear," he muttered to himself. Blaine glanced up as the flight attendant began to speak, going over the emergency procedures as per usual. He shut off his phone after checking his email one last time and started to listen without really taking in a single word that was said.

He was about to leave Ohio, probably for good. No, definitely for good - he had no intention of ever returning to his parents' house. His mother understood and already told him that she would visit as often as she could; it went without saying that she would do so on her own. Blaine sighed, feeling a smile start to quirk at the corner of his mouth. He was leaving, he was getting out, he was no longer tethered to any part of that state and its inhabitants. He was free.

Well, sort of.

Blaine flexed his right wrist without looking at it, consciously aware of the Letter for the first time in weeks, and wondered if he would be going towards or away from K, his angel. He shook his head; that kind of thinking never did him any good.

He'd done away with the cuff after graduation, his distress at his soulmate being a considerable distance away having mostly abated since quitting the Warblers. The Letter was just a letter, or so he told himself. In reality, he liked being able to just look down and see it there. Just knowing that there's someone out there for him, whether they meet or not, was oddly comforting. Blaine chuckled self-deprecatingly as he realized that he'd come full circle, in a way. Not that he hurt any less, just that he was more numb to it.

The plane took off soon after, the momentary feeling of weightlessness drawing a smile from Blaine. Then it leveled out and gravity returned, the seatbelt light turning off with a low beep. A short message from the pilot crackled through the speakers before the passengers began to chatter quietly amongst themselves. Blaine, who had a window seat and was sitting next to an older couple, grinned to himself as they started to talk about their grandchildren.

"I can't believe little Shannon has grown so big," the woman exclaimed fondly, shaking her head. "Used to be I could pick her up and we'd dance around the room."

"It's just crazy how time flies," the man said as he nodded. "Son, do you see your family much?"

Blaine did a double take as he realized that the guy was talking to him.

"Uh- Well, I just graduated, so I'm in the process of moving out sort of as we speak," he said.

"Hmph. Are you close with them?"

"I'm closest to my brother, who I'm meeting later, but... not really," Blaine admitted. He was wary of the entire conversation; it seemed a bit personal for something like a casual in-flight exchange. Then again, he had nothing to hide regarding his family - there wasn't much there in the first place.

"Let me tell you something, young man," the woman chipped in from the aisle seat. Blaine nodded, eyes wide. "Don't let the people you care about get too far away."

"She's right," added the man. "And don't tell me there isn't anyone you care about that much, either, because everybody's got someone they'd go to the ends of the Earth for. The problem is, most people're too scared to put in that kind of effort."

"O-okay," Blaine said, realizing he probably looked like a bobblehead doll by the way he kept nodding. "Thank you."

"You're welcome. I'm Anne, and this is Stanley."

"Blaine," he responded, shaking each of their hands in turn. "It's nice to meet you."

"You as well," Stanley grunted, giving Blaine a tip of his hat that gave him a clear view of the man's wrist, where a small black A was printed. The sight made his heart jump for some reason, and his wrist felt a strong tug. "Where are you headed?"

"Los Angeles," Blaine answered. "My brother is letting me live with him while I take classes at California State."

"I wish you good luck, then," Anne said kindly, a smile gracing her soft features.

"Thanks," Blaine said again, more sincerely this time; he couldn't help but smile as well.

The couple talked to Blaine for a short while longer before Stanley mentioned that he was about to fall asleep.

"'M not as young as I used to be. Don't worry, son; I don't snore," he said with a wink.

Once he was asleep, Blaine took an old, worn book from his bag and started to read. He only managed about half a page before he had to stop, the pull in his wrist steadily swelling into something that felt more like he was being forcibly dragged. He grimaced; whoever K was, he must have been on the opposite side of the country.

He soon gave up on reading entirely since the sensation, growing stronger in pulsing waves, made it next to impossible to focus. How he was going to get used to this, he wasn't sure, but Blaine knew he had no choice. He wasn't going back to Ohio, and he certainly didn't have the means to travel farther east.

Blaine pressed the inside of his wrist to the cold metal on the inside wall of the plane, not as much to relieve the pull as to give his arm something to do. He mentally cursed himself as he remembered that he hadn't brought along his notebook; Blaine had found, over the course of his senior year, that writing music was the best way to distract himself when his Letter became particularly aggravating. All he had was the small airplane window, through which he could see an infinite, rolling ocean of clouds.

For a moment he let himself imagine that he could see his soulmate among the abstract formations. His angel, hidden away in endless sky.

It hit him then that he really, truly cared about K. Blaine felt guilty that it was his attack that had brought the marks on early; a painful experience for him and, as he'd been told, for his soulmate as well. He also felt guilty for leaving, for strengthening the pull on both ends. He had no idea how the other person felt about this turn of events, but Blaine had a feeling that it was confusing for him. Maybe even worrying.

For a moment, Blaine entertained the fantasy of turning around as soon as he got to L.A., taking a flight to the East Coast and finding a job over there. That way he'd at least be closer to K. But he knew he couldn't do it.

Aside from not having the money or the resolve to do such a thing, he knew he had to control his own impulses. Being closer could lead him to try to find K, which was a set-up for disappointment. Blaine had no reason to believe that he would just run into his soulmate one day on the way to work, or even on an active search.

This way, there was still hope. Hope on the very edge of being lost, hope never to be acted upon, but hope nonetheless. Blaine was fine with being alone as long as he had that. As the invisible tether stretched across the country, surely growing stiff and rigid, a voice echoed in the back of his head.

"Don't let the people you care about get too far away." Blaine shook the thought away; he couldn't afford to let himself think like that. He had to preserve the slightest bit of light he could find in the situation.

After all, without that hope, he would be completely, utterly alone, falling over the edge into blackness.