I'm going insane.

Kurt ran his hands through his hair as he waited for Finn to meet him at the front door of their house before his fingers returned to his cuff, picking at it absently. He was impatient; Finn had slept through his alarm and was hurriedly getting dressed. In his impatience, Kurt tugged at his cuff in a weak imitation of the Letter's effect, which had been diminished since he'd arrived in Ohio a week ago. In fact, he could hardly feel it at all.

It was frustrating. Kurt found himself aching for that pull, the one he'd been wishing to escape from for so long. The tether had gone slack, leaving Kurt with a sense of emptiness. That connection was - dare he say it? It was home.

Now he was wandering, detached, and he hated it.

B was in Ohio, Kurt was sure of it. He was also sure that he couldn't go looking for him, not after being so adamant about disregarding the Letter and all it entailed. Besides, he was in Ohio to visit his family and to relax, not to hunt down a person that he'd never even seen in his entire life.

"Finn, if you're not down here in ten seconds I'm taking your car and you can play hide-and-seek with it in the airport parking lot!"

"Whoa, okay, I'm almost ready," Finn's voice called from upstairs. "And it's a truck."

"Real trucks can actually pull weight. That little thing can hardly carry you and me," Kurt said as he heard Finn's footsteps finally thundering down the stairs. Finn himself appeared not long after, frowning.

"Don't insult her," he said, offended.

"She is a hunk of rusted metal that runs on a frightening amount of gas. Barely."

"Whatever, let's go."

"Thank you."

Kurt gave Finn a mock curtsy as he allowed his stepbrother to go out the door first, and grinned when Finn stuck his tongue out at him. Soon they were both in the tiny grey truck that was Finn's first major purchase with his own income, Kurt trying his hardest not to make another jab at it. Okay, maybe it wasn't that hard; he was proud of Finn, actually.

"What station?" Finn asked, his hand on the dial.

"Oh no, I remember the last time we tried to agree on radio music," Kurt answered, grabbing his earphones. "I brought my own."

"Oh yeah, good idea."

It wasn't long until they were on the freeway, Kurt humming along with his Wicked playlist and Finn visibly resisting the urge to play the air guitar as he listened to his own music. He wasn't sure, but Kurt thought that the pull was growing weaker with every mile.

Stop that, he thought. It's probably just your imagination.

About two hours or so later, they were in Columbus, Finn pulling the little truck into the drop-off lane and glancing over at Kurt as he put it in park. Kurt, who had his fingers wrapped around his wrist, over the cuff, and was looking strained.

"Dude, are you okay?" Finn asked, worried.

"I'm fine."

"Kurt, I know you, and you're not okay," Finn insisted. "Is there something wrong with New York?"

"No, of course not, I love it there. It's-" not home, not really, not yet. "It's great."

"You'll tell me if there's a problem? You know," Finn muttered awkwardly. "If you want my help." Kurt couldn't help but smile, still amazed at how much Finn had changed since the first two years of high school.

"Of course. I just don't think you could help me with the current, um, situation," Kurt said, moving to open the door. "I'll call when I land, okay?"

"Okay. Hey, Kurt?"

"Yes?"

"I know you had something different in mind when it happened, but... thanks for bringing our parents together," Finn said, a half-smile on his lips. "You're a good brother to have." Kurt really was smiling now, surprised but pleased at the sudden turn of the conversation.

"Thanks. You know, I never thanked you properly for what you did at our parents' wedding-"

"Don't sweat it, dude. I was just being the kind of guy I was supposed to be that whole week. You're going to miss your plane if you stay here, though, so I'll talk to you later, bro."

"Bye, Finn." Kurt slipped out of the truck and closed the door, turning to wave at Finn one last time and laughing when Finn accidentally hit the roof of the car in his haste to respond. Kurt could just barely see the outline of an R on his wrist through the tinted windows, something that had been a recent development over the past week. Grinning, Kurt started to walk into the airport, wondering what he'd find back in his apartment.

A long line or two and some heavy eye-rolling at staff later, Kurt was finally out of the terminal and heading towards his gate, thankfully with plenty of time to spare before departure. An airport Starbucks caught his eye and, though he usually avoided such commercial coffee, he hadn't had a vanilla spice latte in such a long time. It was the exception to what he called his 'Starbucks Statute.'

So there he was, sitting at a small round table with his legs crossed, sipping at his latte as he watched the people around him, and trying not to think about anything except the upcoming project he had to work on for his History of Theatre class. His Letter kept vying for his attention, though, the familiar sensation all but gone at this point. Whoever B was, he was close by, and it took all of Kurt's resolve not to glance at the wrists of people passing by for a small red K.

I'm going back to New York and everything will go back to normal, he told himself. Rachel will squeal at me about her brand-new Letter, I'll try my best not to get too annoyed with her, and it'll all feel just right.

He checked the time on his phone and decided to find a spot near his gate to wait, refusing to waste any more time thinking about... that. Things would be just fine as long as he didn't let himself dwell on the Letter, they always had been.

He didn't think there was a stranger in the world, not even B, that could change his mind.

Blaine walked quickly through the airport, hyper-aware of the time as he just narrowly avoided being trampled by a group of small children running in the opposite direction.

"Mister, where are you going?" one of them asked, giggling. Blaine just smiled sheepishly and waved before continuing on his way, hoping desperately that his flight would be delayed for some reason. His father had insisted on a family breakfast that morning, and though Blaine was pleasantly surprised (and a little confused) at the gesture, he'd spent just a little too long devouring the blueberry pancakes - his grandmother's recipe, and sinfully delicious.

"Hey man, you dropped something." Blaine whirled around to see a couple of guys, probably in their mid-twenties, staring at him. One of them held out a phone - Blaine's phone.

"Oh wow, thank you so much," Blaine said, taking it gratefully. "Hey, do you know which way Gate A3 is?" The two men looked at each other strangely before one of them pointed over his shoulder.

"That's the other way, dude." Shit.

"Oh, okay, thank you again," Blaine said hurriedly, starting off in that direction feeling slightly embarrassed. For all the signs and maps scattered around the airport, he should have known where he was going.

He thought he could hear muffled laughter behind him as he practically ran away, but he didn't have time to care. He was now two minutes late to departure and the last thing he wanted to do was to stay in Ohio any longer. The family time had been weirdly nice, but Blaine knew it wouldn't last, and airports were boring anyways.

He skidded to a stop as he noticed a Starbucks and, despite his time restrictions, decided on a whim to buy a slice of frosted banana coffee cake.

"You look like you're in a hurry," the barista, a sweet-looking, older woman, said.

"Yeah, I'm actually late for my flight," Blaine muttered, impatient. "But I'll have a caramel macchiato with the cake, I guess." The barista tutted at him, though she added the drink to his order.

"You're going to miss it," she said. "Mark my words, I'll be seeing you back here about fifteen minutes after you leave." Blaine smiled, sure that she was right, though he couldn't find the will to care - coffee was coffee, and he could stay in Ohio a bit longer for that.

"You go sit down, I'll bring this to you," she continued, shooing him away until he turned around to find a table, settling for a small, round one in the corner. Blaine sat down, taking a deep breath as he reminded himself that he had nothing to worry about, he could catch a later flight, pull yourself together.

Part of his stress came from his wrist, where he could feel next to nothing. There was no grounding pull, no steadying tug - only an empty space that gave him that extra hope he'd been trying to avoid. K was nearby and Blaine was resisting every urge to search for him. He couldn't be disappointed if he didn't try, after all.

"Here you go." The barista stepped up to the table and handed Blaine his cake and coffee. "If you're headed to L.A., I heard that flight left quite some time ago."

"That would be me," Blaine sighed. "Thanks for the coffee."

"That gate was also in the other direction, just so you know."

Blaine gave her a confused look before glancing out at the nearest navigational sign he could see. She was right, and those guys had been messing with him. Of course.

"Well, I guess it doesn't matter anymore," he said. "You'll get to see me for a while longer, though."

"That's fine by me, you're a handsome young man," she said with a wink before returning to the front counter. Blaine took a sip of his macchiato and closed his eyes, vaguely wondering if he could fit a nap in before chasing down a later flight. He pressed a thumb to the K on his wrist, trying to feel something, but it didn't really help.

God, he needed a distraction.

He finished off the coffee cake in minutes and stood up, stretching his arms. Grabbing his shoulder pack - which carried all the luggage he'd needed - and his coffee, Blaine set off to take a walk around the airport.

He didn't pay attention to where he was going; all he knew was that he needed to move. So Blaine strolled down the wide airport hallways, smiling at some of the people that passed by and cringing internally at others. Really, Blaine wasn't that much into fashion, but some of the things people wore left him utterly speechless - and not in a good way.

He heard an announcement as he neared some of the gates, a woman's cheerful voice announcing that a flight to New York City was boarding. Blaine glanced over in that direction; he'd always wanted to visit that particular place, though his determination to avoid the East Coast had thus far prevented any such vacation.

None of the people now standing up to board the plane caught Blaine's eye - that is, until a man moved into his line of sight; chestnut hair seeming to defy gravity, slim dark jeans that left nothing to the imagination, a defined jaw-

Blaine found himself hurrying to the gate for no reason except that, seeing that man, it made him want to know that soft smile and the mysteries it held; it made him want to hear how his own name would sound as it rolled off that tongue; it made him want to take a chance.

It was an impulse that Blaine could have shrugged off, just as he did every day that he'd spent in L.A. staring at his wrist - but he didn't want to, not this time.

The guy was already starting towards the plane, having passed the gate's front desk, and Blaine moved faster. He was sure that he looked ridiculous, but he was beyond the point of caring. He slipped past the other passengers in line, ignoring their protests, and reached his right arm out to gently grab the man's left arm, noticing a sudden warmth as he did so.

The man turned around, a foot already up the single step that led to the plane. Surprise and a little irritation showed in his expression - but then he glanced down, took in a quiet breath at Blaine's upturned wrist, and looked back at his face with something like awe.

"I'm Blaine," Blaine said, chest heaving from running, blissfully unaware of the fact that he'd spilled his coffee on his arm in the process.

"... Kurt."