Remind Me to Forget

Chapter 18

Kurt exits the library and straightens the strap of his bag as he heads for his Voice I instructor's office.  His draft has a clear plan now, with partial paragraphs and references he can build on later. His head hates him for it – the lack of caffeine combined with an early morning is truly evil – but he'd felt confident enough in his Voice performance to skip practice and work on his paper instead, before the rush of fellow freshman overtook the aisles. Blaine had delightedly been his accompanist over the weekend (and he had taken the harmonies when Blaine practiced in return) and the hours had passed quickly, the notes coming easier with every run through.

Carole had even managed to listen for two run-throughs. Luckily he and Blaine had managed to keep in any tears until she stepped out.

Text message from Kurt:

About to see if our practices paid off!

Text message from Blaine:

I'm sure they did, but am I still supposed to wish you luck?

Kurt smiles and eyes the contrast of his ring against his phone case before typing a reply.

Text message from Kurt:

Hummels don't need luck (especially after our practice).

Text message from Kurt:

I wish I could have caffeine though.

Text message from Blaine:

Get a mocha for me after class?

Text message from Kurt:

I have to now – isn't it the rule that I have to be nice to you on your birthday?

Text message from Blaine:

Then make sure you get a muffin, too! :)

Kurt laughs, can't contain his happiness as he thinks of Blaine, remembers the sleepy laugh and heart-felt thanks when he called at six in the morning so he could be the first to sing Happy Birthday. And yet, even on his birthday, Blaine's trying to spoil him.

Kurt silently thanks his past self for realizing that Blaine was the one (or rather, accepting what he already knew and choosing him) and wearing his ring – people aren't possessions, but Kurt has never been so proud as when he can call Blaine his fiancé.

Text message from Kurt:

I seem to be the one benefiting from this rule, even though it's *your* birthday…

Text message from Kurt:

Not that I'm complaining….(although if I can't wear my favorite pants we're going to have to have a talk)

Kurt moves to the side as a fellow student rushes by, sighs when he has to quickly stop to avoid running into a pair of gossiping classmates. He ignores the mention of Ms. July, and walks in front of them, glad when he sees his building just a few yards ahead.

Text message from Blaine:

You'll always be wonderful <3

Text message from Blaine:

And you got me the best present - the least I can do is try and make your day as stress-free and fun as possible :D

Text message from Kurt:

Trying to woo me?

Text message from Blaine:

[photo] I already have proof that I won in the wooing department ;)

Text message from Kurt:

[photo] Funny, I have one too.

Text message from Blaine:

:D

Kurt pauses in typing his reply when he reaches the doors of his building, keeps his phone clutched in his left while he fights against the weight of the door with his right. He manages to make it into the hallway without dropping his phone, joining the other students in the hall.

Text message from Kurt:

Hopefully I'll still have a smile like that after my conference and class…

Text message from Blaine:

Your NYADA professor and classmates recognize your talent – you already won the diva off, remember?

Huffing a laugh at Blaine's response, Kurt allows himself a moment to bask in Blaine's compliments. He looks up moments later when he hears a loud laugh carrying over the buzz of conversation, sees the back of Adam's head from where he's talking with two members of Adam's Apples.

It's certainly not the first time he's seen them in hallways (for being a decently sized school it's surprising how often Kurt runs in to people he knows) but he feels a quick pang at the loss of potential friends. Glee had more relationships than any club had a right to, and yet they were still there for each other in the end, regardless.

Adam had asked him to leave the Apples based on a could have been. He had tried, he'd even attempted to force himself to move on from Blaine, but his heart was never in it, and Adam had known that from the moment they met.

Apparently British NYADA seniors hold slightly irrational grudges.

His phone buzzes in his hand.

Text message from Blaine:

You're the most talented man I've ever known – they'll see it too <3

Text message from Blaine:

[photo] And I took your advice, see? A bit of indulgence for my birthday :)

Text message from Kurt:

You flatter me

Text message from Kurt:

Everyone should have a mocha on their birthday!

Kurt smiles after sending his reply, slowing down as he enters the stairwell; Adam and his friends are gone, and Kurt shakes his head as he falls into step beside a classmate. He offers a small wave and they fall into the casual conversation between almost-friends: professors, class, papers, and lamenting the loss of sleep.

He pauses when sleep is mentioned, but luckily being almost-friends means small hesitations and worries are skipped over – Kurt forces away memories of Blaine's nightmares and second-hand nervousness about his fiancé's upcoming therapy appointment – he nods in agreement instead.

Arriving at the classroom Kurt leans against the wall, waiting for the previous class to leave. Beside him, his classmate falls silent, and a quick glance shows him engrossed in sheet music.

Text message from Blaine:

I agree – we can make it our own tradition ;)

Text message from Kurt:

I'll add it to our ever growing list

Text message from Blaine:

:) We should pin the list to the calendar in your room once I'm in New York

Text message from Kurt:

We will – but it will be our room, Blaine :p

Kurt smiles and for once is glad he's not drawing the attention of his classmate; his ring (gorgeous as it is) already sets him apart from his fellow freshmen, and after Santana had met him on campus once – something that would never happen again, after her yell of Hummel! I know you're engaged but stop with the nauseating looks. I still want to eat my lunch! – the glances and searching comments had only increased. Soft glances because of texts (no matter how sweet) would only add to the NYADA gossip mill. After another quick glance at the time Kurt lowers his phone and begins mentally running through his upcoming performance. He already feels prepared, confident in the piece, but he knows in order to perform at his best he needs to focus, too.

Text message from Kurt:

Go enjoy your birthday, Blaine

Text message from Blaine:

‘Enjoy' is a complicated term when said birthday is in the middle of the school week.

Text message from Kurt:

I'm sure you'll manage.

Text message from Kurt:

Besides, it's not a normal Wednesday.

Text message from Blaine:

I don't know that my birthday makes the entire day different…

Kurt shakes his head, but doesn't reply.

Text message from Blaine:

You're up to something, Kurt Hummel. What did you do?

Text message from Kurt:

Happy Birthday, Blaine <3

Text message from Blaine:

You've already said (and sung) that. And youve thrown me a truly amazing birthday party…

Text message from Blaine:

Kurt…

Text message from Kurt:

I love you!

Kurt slips his phone in his bag with a smile, his melancholy thoughts banished with just a few texts.

He straightens and begins humming Handel.

-*-*-*-

Blaine still dislikes calculus. Behind him, Tina releases a sigh and he feels his lips twitch with a hint of a smile in agreement. At the front of the room, his teacher begins writing another example on the board and he looks back to his notebook, picks up his pencil and copies down the derivatives. Moments later he sets the pencil down with a sigh, and turns while the teacher passes out small white boards when Tina taps his shoulder.

“I was going to grab coffee before rehearsal this afternoon, want me to get you anything?”

“You know you're supposed to avoid caffeine before singing, right?” Blaine keeps his tone light, but can't help the small bit of judgment that escapes: everyone knows to drink water before (and while) singing.

“Yeah, but I don't care,” she smiles at Blaine, “and I thought you'd want a coffee on your birthday. Besides,” Tina sighs. “One cup won't damage my vocal chords, and I'm going to need some serious caffeine to get through the two hours of practice.”

“That's why I brought Starbucks for lunch,” Unique comments with a smile. “I have the caffeine and I get to keep my fabulous voice for this afternoon. But don't think I forgot what day it is – there's some brownies in my bag, too.”

Blaine laughs and eyes his teacher who's made it to the middle of the room. “Thanks in advance for the chocolate.” He turns away from Unique a bit, so he can talk to both of his friends. “You both seem to think this practice is going to be horrible; do you know something I don't?”

“Why,” Tina questions, leaning forward so her head is practically on Blaine's shoulder, “what do you know?”

For a moment, Blaine sits in silence. There are times, even after being at McKinley for a year, where the absurdity that is Glee Club hits him.

Like now.

“Nothing?” The word comes out as a question, and he leans away from Tina when she narrows her gaze. “Seriously, it's just a longer practice because we have Nationals next weekend.”

“Mr. Schue does seem intent to make up for the hour we missed last week. And we have the festival this weekend,” Unique taps her pencil, the click! surprisingly loud in between comments, “hopefully there won't be yelling at this one.”

“Yelling?” Blaine keeps his voice even, glances down to his notes before meeting her gaze.

“Just because it's a festival doesn't mean the crazies stay home.” Unique releases a theatrical sigh. “Some people just don't appreciate fabulousness.”

“It's not that bad,” Tina adds, “but it's Ohio – there's always going to be more jocks who'd prefer country or…any music other than us.”

“Hm.” Blaine can't be surprised, not really, but in the past any public performance always had more support than derision.

“But enough about Glee,” Tina comments as the teacher moves to the back of their row, “I'm still shocked that you can focus; on Friday all you did was stare at your new accessary.”

Blaine doesn't even attempt to stop the smile spreading across his face, even as his eyes look to his left hand.

“I had all weekend to stare at it.” He pointedly ignores the giggled ‘and Kurt' Unique adds, taking the white board and a marker from his teacher with a distracted nod.

Tina's about to reply when Blaine hears the teacher clearing his throat, pulling Blaine's attention back to the front of the room. He releases a slight sigh, glad for the excuse to drop the conversation. He's not interested in sharing his memories of the weekend, despite the girls' repeated attempts since Monday. Blaine slightly shakes his head, pushing the thoughts away as he focuses on the problem the teacher's written on the board.

He should have known better than to be grateful.

He still really dislikes calculus.

-*-*-*-

Blaine turns off his car with a sigh, quickly checking his appearance in the rear-view mirror. After an enthusiastic performance of Happy Birthday Mr. Schue had reminded everyone of the upcoming performance – and nationals – and started a truly impressive rehearsal.

Blaine was relieved.

He was tired now, his muscles aching even as he sat in the driver's seat, but the long practice meant Tina was too tired even for a trip to the mall, and that Sam had to leave with Ryder. Blaine loves his friends, but the (admittedly entertaining) day has left him drained and he takes a moment to savor a moment alone in the silence of his car.

He steps out seconds later with a smile, slipping his keys and phone into his bag. Blaine heads for the entrance, pausing as he passes a white four door and again when he sees a green truck across the aisle. Shaking his head, he passes through the mall's doors, breathes in the smell of pretzels and new clothes.

Text message from Blaine:

[photo] Should I fall in to The Gap?

Text message from Kurt:

Will you actually go in if I say yes?

Text message from Kurt:

Although I think we had a conversation about your sense of humor…

A boisterous echoing laugh has Blaine looking up, fingers pressing a mishmash of letters as he jerks. On the other side of the line of stores, standing in front of Auntie Anne's pretzels and partially hidden by a fake tree, a sandy haired college student slaps the bleached-blond in a OSU football jersey. Blaine looks away as the two guys begin an intense round of half-hearted punches.

Text message from Kurt:

…I didn't mean to actually offend you.

Text message from Kurt:

Hello?

Text message from Blaine:

Sorry – got distracted…

Text message from Blaine:

My sense of humor is fantastic, thank you.

Text message from Blaine:

And no – you know I can't show my face at the Gap.

Text message from Kurt:

Technically, you weren't banned. You could go there…they do have some good sales ;-)

Text message from Blaine:

Haha. No.

Blaine gives a small huff of laughter as he puts his phone back in his bag and turns to head for American Eagle, absently hoping the store will have jeans in his size. He scans the other patrons as he walks, and can't help the small smile that spreads when he sees a young girl enthusiastically eating a cinnamon pretzel as her mother searches her purse (probably for napkins). He flinches when there's a yell behind him, though, and quickly hurries the last few yards to AE's entrance.

He steps into the store and absently taps his hand on his thigh, keeping time with the beat audible over the murmurs of other customers. He walks toward the jeans, suppressing a sigh when he takes in the multiple racks.

Technically, he's an adult – he can pick out a pair of jeans on his own.

Fifteen minutes later (assuming each song on the in-store radio is the average three minutes) his fingers twitch with the urge to text Kurt and he's debating between a pair of dark wash skinny jeans and ones that fade to red when loud voices catch his ear.

“– still can't believe you went for it, Steve!”

Blaine freezes.

Breathe in. Steve is a common name.

Breathe out. There's no reason for him to be at the Lima Mall.

Breathe in. It's another Steve.

Keeping both pairs of jeans in hand, Blaine slowly turns. It has to be another Steve, but he has to be sure.

Behind him, and to his left, a group of guys look through the graphic tees. As he watches, one – pale, red hair grown out longer than Sam's – tosses a shirt with a laugh. The guy who catches it – tanned, with black hair peeking out under a hat – shakes out the balled up shirt before turning to his friend with a laugh.

“Real funny, Steve.”

Breathe out. Steven was the forty-fifth most popular baby name in 1992.

Blaine steps back and heads for the changing rooms.

Text message from Blaine:

[photo] [photo] Casually fashionable or fun?

Text message from Kurt:

Depends on the occasion, you know that ;-)

Text message from Kurt:

Although both look amazing.

Text message from Blaine:

Nationals – I need some new jeans for the trip.

Text message from Kurt:

Ooh California! With Nationals I say go with casually fashionable – it can't hurt to look semi-professional. :)

Text message from Blaine:

This is why you're the one with the internship with Vogue.com

Text message from Kurt:

Possibly, but lucky for you I'm willing to share my talents :)

Blaine feels his lips move into a small smile as he sets down his phone and reaches for his own jeans.

Ten minutes later Blaine exits the store, bag crinkling when it bumps against his thigh as he walks. He heads for the center of the mall, sighing when he sees that the Coke vending machine is the one farthest away. With a roll of his eyes he keeps walking, and luckily arrives at the machine just as a giggling group of young girls step away.

Drink in hand moments later, he turns back to go the way he came. The crowd grows as he gets closer to the main doors, but he manages to narrowly avoid a harried women impatiently texting and ignorant of other patrons. He startles seconds later when his arm is jostled by a group of passing shoppers, breath catching when a sandy haired college aged man quickly strides by – he exhales in relief when he sees the guy in profile.

Stepping onto the sidewalk outside the mall, he shakes his head, pushing away memories. He moves off to the side, leans against a pillar as he rifles through his messenger bag for his sunglasses. Two girls shriek as they rush past him, and he glances up, hears the echo of revved engines as two cars race at the edge of his vision, several rows down. He tightens his left hand on the strap of his bag and looks back down, determinedly pushes papers and various school items aside with his right. His hand closes around cool plastic seconds later and he resists the urge to audibly celebrate his victory.

With his glasses shielding his eyes, Blaine looks back to the parking lot, absently counting rows until he remembers his. Pushing himself away from the wall, Blaine adjusts his messenger bag and picks up his shopping bag before stepping off the sidewalk and into the parking lot.

He walks down the row, notes the various cars: the gold Chevy, the blue Kia with a mountain of bumper stickers, a white Ford Taurus –

The concrete is hard, cold beneath him. Light from the streetlamp doesn't quite reach him, and the darkness encompasses his vision.

A green truck roars by, quickly followed by a white Taurus, the bass matching the pounding in his head –

“–can't believe you forgot where you parked again!”

The shout snaps Blaine out of the memory, and he adjusts his grip on his bag, continues to head to his car. He waits as a red Toyota backs out of a spot, stepping a bit closer to the parked sedan when a group of college-aged students walks by. One of the guys, dark skinned with unnaturally bright hair, darts forward and grabs another of the group, pulling the startled guy back into a tight hold.

“It's not like you were payin' attention either!”

“Did you see who walked by? I'd have to swing the other way to not get distracted!”

“You sayin' I'm not hot, Brian? You know you want some of this!”

The group dissolves into laughter and Blaine feels his hand relax a bit against the strap of his bag as he begins walking again.

“If I were a homo you'd be at the top of the list, Kev.”

“Sadie Hawkins isn't for homos, Anderson!”

Blaine's hand tightens again, and he quickens his steps. He spots his car, finally, four cars down and releases a breath. A honk moments later has him turning his head, and a sandy haired man – Blaine's too far away to make out his face – waves to a passing Ford.

Breathe in. It's not Steve.

Breathe out. It's not.

Breathe in. Just get to the car.

Breathe out. Just keep walking.

Moments later Blaine arrives at his car, and it takes two fumbles before he manages to hit the unlock button on his keys. He drops into the driver's seat with a sigh, pulling the door shut behind him.

He leans his head back and works to control his breathing.

Blaine opens his eyes a few minutes later, only for them sting with frustration when his shaking hands can't even manage to get his messenger bag off his shoulder. Irritation swells and Blaine slams his hands on the steering wheel even as he forces his breathing to even out, discarding thoughts as he does so.

As quickly as the annoyance had grown, however, it flees just as quickly, leaving Blaine exhausted and lowering his head to his still shaking hands, pausing only to look at the ring shining in the sunlight. Still, he focuses on the issue at hand, and with effort is able to get his messenger bag off of his body and sitting on the passenger seat, leaning against his purchase.

A glance at the clock shows it's later than he'd like; he'd planned to be on the way back to the Hudson-Hummels by now.

But even Blaine knows it's a bad idea to drive with shaking hands.

Blaine sighs, and turns to dig through his bag – Burt needs to know he's running late.

-*-*-*-

Burt mutes the television as the front door opens, rising to his feet in time to meet Blaine as he enters the kitchen. He leans against the doorjamb, taking in Blaine's slightly pale face and the tense set of his shoulders as he pours himself a glass of water.

“There's leftovers in the fridge, if you didn't grab something on the way.”

Blaine jumps a bit before he turns to face him, and Burt silently chastises himself for startling the kid.

“Oh. Thanks, Mr. Hummel,” Burt suppresses a sigh at the continued use of the formality, and gives a Blaine a smile.

“So you didn't grab a burger on the way back?”

Blaine gives a small laugh and his free hand goes to rest on the counter behind him. “No – I actually prefer home cooked food.”

Burt takes a moment to let the little comment sink in, absently wondering how often the Andersons took Blaine out to restaurants during their infrequent visits home. He pushes the building resentment away and walks to the fridge instead, pulling out clear plastic containers.

“Well, Carole certainly made plenty. I'm not sure what it's called,” he turns to offer Blaine a joking smile, “somethin' with pasta. She was hopin' to make you something special for your big day. Anyway, it's pretty good. I might have gotten seconds.”

“Might have?”

Burt nods. “Yup. So, you wanna get a plate and heat some of this up?”

Blaine moves to get a plate from the cabinet, not commenting on the blatant change in subject.

Kurt really did choose well.

Blaine's beside him moments later, setting a plate on the counter before using a tablespoon to dish out the leftovers. Once the plate is in the microwave Burt waves off Blaine and gathers the containers, setting them back in the fridge.

“So how's it feel to be an adult?”

“Is it supposed to feel different?” Blaine shrugs, “I know it's a bit deal, but it's just another day, really. Although everyone in Glee sang to me before rehearsal, and Unique brought me birthday brownies.”

“You've got some good friends.”

Blaine smiles and takes his food from the microwave, moving to sit at the table. “Yeah. McKinley's been great for that.”

Burt nods and moves to take the seat across from Blaine, ignoring the slightly confused look he gets in response.

“Weren't you watching TV? You don't have to wait in here with me.”

Burt leans back in his seat, slightly shaking his head. “There's nothing on anyway, and I'm pretty sure no one is supposed to eat dinner alone on their birthday.”

Blaine ducks his head and the next words are earnest, if a bit mumbled. “Sorry I was late, by the way. I did plan on making it back in time for dinner.”

“Hm.” Burt keeps his gaze on Blaine, notes how the kid won't meet his eyes. “Funny thing about that. The news didn't mention any extra traffic – no accidents or surprise construction.”

Blaine's fork hits the plate with a bit more force than necessary.

“Oh.”

“Blaine.” Burt waits until Blaine looks up to continue, “You're not in trouble. I'm just curious what made you be late – what had you worried enough you said you were caught in traffic instead.”

For a moment Blaine is silent, staring at the plate in front of him. “I – I actually didn't think you'd check.”

Burt finds himself pushing down anger at the Andersons for the second time that evening.

“I find out you have less than optimal driving conditions I'm going to check to see what's goin' on. Kurt says I can be a bit overprotective, but it's just part of being parent.” Burt pauses, stands to start a pot of coffee when it becomes apparent that Blaine isn't to immediately reply.

The coffee's started to drip into the pot and he's resumed his seat before Blaine starts to talk.

“It's – I didn't mean to lie. I just,” Blaine cuts himself off, and Burt bites back his questioning reply when he sees the white-knuckled grip Blaine has on his fork – interrupting wouldn't serve a purpose at the moment. “There were some…cars, and I thought I heard Steve and Mitch at the mall. It wasn't them, I mean, it couldn't have been, but I got a little freaked out.” Blaine's looking at his plate again, head down while his fork stirs the pasta. “I had to wait a bit before I felt comfortable driving.”

Burt takes a moment to mentally replay Blaine's words, picking apart the separate issues. “‘A little freaked out' left you uncomfortable to drive?”

Across the table, Blaine blushes before ducking his head. “I figured it was better to be safe.”

Burt leans forward in his chair and asks the obvious question. “Why didn't you call me, kid? You know I woulda come and picked you up.”

Blaine sighs but Burt stays as he is, waits for the reply. “I know – I know you would…but I didn't want you – I didn't want people to worry.” Blaine's shoulders hunch and the next words are quieter, but rushed. “I just wanted to go to the mall and get some jeans. It's my birthday – I just wanted a normal day.”

Burt keeps his eyes on Blaine, but lets his thoughts wander as he debates how to respond. Blaine certainly doesn't need to feel guilty, and the kid obviously has come to accept that he and Carole would help, and despite the day, Blaine's still a teenager: he can't fault him for wanting to handle things on his own.

The dripping stops and Burt takes the signal for the break that it is, quickly moving to pour two mugs before placing one in front of Blaine and taking his seat.

“I get that.”

Burt's shocked Blaine doesn't get whiplash from how quickly his head raises.

“You – you do?”

“Sure.” Burt shrugs and takes a sip of coffee, wincing when the liquid scorches his tongue. “I can't say I like askin' for help either.” Blaine winces and Burt hurries to continue. “And you obviously made it home. I don't like the thought you havin' to take time to feel comfortable makin' the drive on your own, and I'd prefer it if you call if anything like this happens again, but I understand where you're coming from.”

Blaine takes a few more bites of his dinner as Burt blows on his coffee. “I have my first appointment tomorrow.”

The non sequitur takes Burt by surprise, but he manages to keep his expression open, calm. “Yeah. I'm picking you up for it, remember? No sense in us takin' two cars.”

Burt thinks back to the conversation that had taken place over the weekend, with Blaine saying he could go on his own, and Burt – with Kurt's welcome support – reminding him that just because he could, that didn't mean he had to. Blaine had acquiesced with a tight smile.

“No. I mean, I remember.” Blaine gives a slight shake of his head. “I see Dr. Schamp tomorrow for the first time. I know – I know I need this, but it makes it real. I'm seeing a psychiatrist because I'm seeing things that aren't there.” Blaine sighs and the next words come out in a rush, slurred with haste, “I just – I didn't want my first appointment to be the day after I had a panic attack bad enough that my fiancé's father had to pick me up from the mall.”

Burt's breath still catches at the word fiancé – at the reminder that Kurt is certainly no longer his little boy, but the thought passes quickly. He takes a moment to sift through the Blaine's comments, and then one point grabs his attention more than the rest.

“You had a panic attack?”

“Oh.” Blaine's cheeks darken and he briefly ducks his head before meeting Burt's gaze. “I can't be sure. That's what Dr. Schamp is for, right?” There's a quick, humorless chuckle before he continues, “But before – it was similar, I think. But I know how to handle it.” Burt feels his eyes narrow before he pushes back his worries, again, and Blaine speaks again. “It took me longer to calm down, but it was nothing, really. They weren't – it's not like they were actually there. I just needed to remember that.”

“What happened, kid?”

Blaine pushes his plate away and takes a sip of his coffee before he speaks. “Nothing. I thought – in the parking lot there were some white Fords and a couple green trucks…and in the mall it seemed like there were people that looked like them, or had the same name.” Blaine shrugs and takes another sip of his coffee. “I just thought I saw, or heard them more than usual. Then, on the way back to my car some guys were joking around and it reminded me of something – of something Steve and Blake said. Or maybe it was Mitch. Anyway, it was just too much at once, I think.”

Burt closes his eyes for moment, silently cursing the parents of kids he's never even met. They may not have directly hurt Blaine, but parents are responsible for their kids (even if it currently seemed like he and Carole were not the norm at the moment) and those kids had given Blaine enough torment to give him panic attacks years later.

After releasing a breath Burt opens his eyes, sees Blaine idly tapping on his mug. “You know, I'm pretty sure Carole left some birthday cake in the fridge. Sounds like you could use some. Actually,” Burt pushes back his chair and stands, “she went up to read a while ago – she'd probably like some, too. Why don't you go check and I'll get the plates.”

The request has Blaine rising too, and he leaves the kitchen after giving Burt a grateful smile. When he returns minutes later, Carole talking quietly behind him, Burt's managed to plate three pieces of cake, and has a flickering candle in the largest piece.

“Now,” Burt turns and passes out the pieces. “Carole and I aren't in your fancy choir, but I think we can manage Happy Birthday.”

Blaine blushes throughout the song and claps enthusiastically afterwards, even though Burt knows he and Carole will never be asked to sing professionally.

“It was perfect, really.” Blaine comments after swallowing a piece of cake. “Besides, no one can sing Happy Birthday in tune. It's the bane of every choir, honest!”

Burt allows himself a small laugh, even as part of him marvels that the laughing kid in front of him was the same one who was self-conscious and admitting to a panic attack an hour before.

Burt's not sure if he should feel impressed or worried.

“Oh!” Carole's exclamation pulls Burt from his thoughts, and he smiles when he sees her pull out two small packages and set them in front of Blaine. “It's not much, but we hope you find it useful.”

Blaine looks confused again and he carefully sets down his fork before reaching for the box. “You really didn't –”

“Just open your birthday present, Blaine,” Burt interrupts the comment, “besides, only the one is from us.”

Paper ripped seconds later, Burt laughs when he takes in Blaine's wide eyes and smile.

“We figured you could use it in L.A.,” Burt comments with a nod to the small video camera, “especially since Kurt can't make it out and –”

He's interrupted by Blaine giving him a quick hug. Blaine turns away before Burt can give him much more than a pat, moving to hug Carole as well.

“Thank you! You didn't have to, really, but thank you, so much.”

“You're welcome,” Carole echoes his comment and they share a smile as Blaine resumes his seat and takes his last bite of cake. “There's more if you're still hungry.”

“Oh, it was delicious, but I couldn't eat any more.” Blaine sets down his fork and moves his dessert plate so it rests on his plate from dinner before turning to the small box sitting unopened on the table. The paper rips in under a minute and Burt smiles when he sees the look of awe on Blaine's face.

“He handed that to me the day he left – made me promise to give it to you with ours, too.”

Blaine laughs and holds the bowtie with a gentle hand, seemingly mesmerized by the pattern. “He didn't need to do this,” Blaine tilts his head and Burt notes that his gaze has shifted, focused on the ring on his left hand, “I certainly didn't need more presents.”

“Don't tell me you expected to tell Kurt ‘no' to something he really wanted to do.”

“No…but I certainly didn't expect it.” Blaine pauses before clutching the bowtie again, and picking up the camera, “ Anyway, I should head upstairs – I still have some reading for tomorrow.”

“Well, why don't you go do that,” Carole comments before Burt can respond, “ and Burt and I can handle this. You shouldn't do dishes on your birthday anyway.”

“Is that a hint?” Burt finishes his cake and gives Carole a wink.

“I certainly wouldn't complain.”

“Are you sure?” Blaine's question interrupts their dialogue and Burt turns back to face him with a joking frown.

“Go do your homework, kid. We can handle a few dishes.” Blaine hesitantly nods before standing and gathering his bags on his way out of the kitchen. He makes it to the doorway before Burt calls his name. “Happy birthday. And be sure to take some breaks too, okay? Don't need you working too hard today.”

Blaine smiles. “I'll try. Thanks again,” he raises the hand holding the camera, “really. I just – thank you.”

Once he's gone, his footsteps faded on the stairs, Burt sighs and gathers the dishes before leaning against the counter.

“You look a bit too upset for this to just be because you only got one slice of cake.”

Carole's comment has him turning, offering her a small smile even as he shakes his head.

“I actually watch what I eat, you know. I just happen to prefer cake and real burgers.”

“Umhm. Now,” Carole sets her plate in the sink and faces him, “what's going on?”

Burt gestures for her to take back her seat at the table. “This'll go better with coffee,” he adds as he moves to get his mug.

Maybe Carole will have some insights into Blaine, too.

-*-*-*-

Kurt taps his pencil in time to the music coming from his iPod, sighing when he realizes he's read the same line three times.

The call from his dad has left him unsettled.

Combined with the most boring textbook (he's certain) ever written on theatre history, and he's itching to call Blaine. Still, a glance at his clock shows that it's only been twenty minutes since his conversation with his dad, and he knows Blaine can't yet be done with his own homework.

Kurt sighs and rolls his neck, looks back at his book. He lasts two more songs before he closes the book with a snap, setting the book – along with his pencil as a place holder – on his desk and standing. He stretches before turning and leaving his room, heading for the kitchen.

He needs coffee.

He methodically fills the pot, leans against the counter as the water heats and the dark liquid begins dripping in the pot. The loft is eerily quiet – he can even hear the faint chords of music in his room. Rachel's at rehearsal – he thinks – and Santana had gleefully informed him earlier that she had a date night with Dani and not to expect her back for hours, if she returned at all.

Shaking his head, Kurt moves to get his favorite mug, and puts in his sugar and milk as the coffee finishes. With his mug full minutes later he slowly makes his way back to his room, settling into his desk chair with a sigh.

He still wants to call Blaine.

Two minutes pass before he shakes his head at his own ridiculousness, and he grabs his phone with a bit more force than what is necessary.

It only takes two rings before the line connects.

“Hey. Have I mentioned that I love you today?”

“You may have, although in the future you might want to make sure I'm the one on the line before you declare your love.”

“Do you plan on letting someone else call me on your phone?” Kurt smiles at the hint of confusion in Blaine's tone.

“No, but Santana would take my phone and call you just in the hope that she'd hear something embarrassing.”

“You're right,” Blaine pauses, “but I still love you.”

“Mm. And this unprompted declaration is because…”

“You made me a bow-tie for my birthday.”

Kurt feels the smile spreading and doesn't attempt to stop it. “Of course I did. And Dad was thrilled he'd get to help surprise you, too.”

Blaine laughs. “Well, I certainly wasn't expecting your Dad to hand me a box from you.”

“Don't tell me you thought I wasn't going to get you something for your birthday.”

“You threw me a surprise party and came here to give me a matching engagement ring.”

“Mm.” Kurt agrees, absently spinning his own ring, “but as you pointed out, your birthday technically wasn't until today.”

“I…” Kurt smiles when the sentence trails off, unfinished.

“You know I'm right.” Kurt pauses, takes a moment to relish in the happiness he feels. He doesn't want to lose this feeling, even though he knows the rest of the conversation can't stay as lighthearted. “So you had a good birthday?”

“Oh, yes. Of course!” Blaine's words come out rushed. “Glee sang to me before practice, and Unique brought me brownies at lunch. Plus that camera…I can record everything in L.A. now – you'll get sick on my emails.”

“I doubt that.”

“Mm. You could.”

“Well, we'll find out next weekend.”

“I can't believe we have nationals in a week. We've been practicing, and we have our last performance this weekend, but it still seems too soon. And it's in L.A. It seems bigger somehow, since we're going to the west coast.”

“Well, just make sure you document the trip – and your fashionable ensembles.”

“I will. You'll get to see me in the shirt you got me. I actually think it will go well with the jeans I bought.”

“So you got them? I thought you might, but you didn't say.”

“Oh.” Blaine's voice comes through a bit subdued, and Kurt flashes back to his dad's comments, to how he'd connected the dots when remembering the pauses between Blaine's texts. “Sorry. I…the mall wasn't the best.”

“You're still in Ohio – no mall is going to be the best.” Kurt takes a sip of his coffee.

“No,” Blaine agrees, “but,” there's a pause, and Kurt hears Blaine take a breath before he continues, “I kept freaking out. At the mall.”

Kurt can hear his heartbeat, briefly closes his eyes. He's relieved Blaine brought it up himself, but it's one thing to hear about this from his dad. It's another to hear it directly from Blaine.

“What happened?”

As Blaine explains Kurt takes in the details his dad either hadn't known or kept to himself, feels his hand cramp and forcibly relaxes his hold on his phone. After he mentions texting Burt Blaine falls silent for a moment, and Kurt takes another two sips of his coffee before Blaine speaks again.

“I know I should have called him, Kurt. Or you. But I didn't want it to be a big deal.” Blaine pauses again, “I'm going to have to talk about it tomorrow, I know; I just didn't want to focus on it today, too.”

“It's not exactly cheerful birthday events.”

Blaine releases a huff of laughter. “No.”

“Just promise me that if something similar happens again that you'll call me? I don't want it to, but if it does –”

“If I see things again you're on my speed dial.”

“Blaine.” Kurt knows his voice holds a hint of annoyance, but Blaine knows better than to joke.

“Sorry,” Blaine's apology is quick, honestly spoken. “I'm just nervous about tomorrow.”

After taking a sip of coffee Kurt orders his thoughts and replies. “She's a doctor, Blaine. I don't –”

“It's real now, Kurt.” The words of Blaine's interruption are rushed, if quiet. “It's real and today I was seeing things at the mall.” There's a pause and Blaine next words are barely above a whisper. “What if I'm going crazy, Kurt?”

“I don't care.” Kurt keeps his words firm. “You're not crazy, Blaine. You're not, but I don't care what she says you have – if you have anything – because it won't change how I feel. I just want you to get whatever help you need.”

“I wish I didn't need it.”

“I wish you hadn't been hurt after Sadie Hawkins,” Kurt hears the snap in his words and forces himself to calm down, to soften his next comment. “But I also wish we had teleportation so I could see you every day. Wishes can't change things, but maybe Dr. Schamp can help you, and really, that's all that matters.”

“I know. Logically, I know that. But I'm seeing a psychiatrist, Kurt.”

“Mm. You are. Thousands of people do. You know I did, after,” Kurt pauses, pushes down the emotion gathering, “after my mom died. I only saw her a few times, but I remember that she was really nice – she was the only person I remember treating me like a person after, rather than a breakable doll.”

“I know, I know. And I'm so glad she was there for you when you needed it, but I'm seeing things Kurt –”

“I love you,” Kurt interrupts, hopes Blaine can hear the truth of the words. “I love you and I hate that you're going through this, but hopefully Dr. Schamp will be able to help, some. Focus on that.”

“Yeah.” Blaine releases a sigh that echoes down the line. “I'll try. And I love you too, Kurt. So much.”

Kurt smiles. “It's a good thing we're getting married, then.” Kurt leans back in his chair, looking around his room and envision Blaine's blankets and books tangled with his own. “I can't wait for you to be in New York with me.”

“Mm. After graduation, I promise.”

“I'm holding you to that.” Kurt glances at his book still resting on his desk. “Speaking of, did you finish your homework or did I interrupt?”

“I have a few more pages of reading, and a couple Civics questions, but that's it.”

“I should be a responsible fiancé and let you get back to your homework…and get back to my own.”

“We should, but I prefer talking to you.”

“I'd hope so.” Kurt takes a deep breath and releases it. “But really. Homework? We still can talk before we go to bed.”

Blaine hums in agreement. “They need to just invent teleportation so we don't have to choose.”

Kurt laughs and opens his book. “Well, until they do, we have to deal with cell phones and Skype.” He glances at the clock on his computer. “I'll talk to you in a couple hours, okay?”

Blaine agrees. “I love you.”

“I love you, too. And wish me luck – I think this book is the driest material ever written.” Kurt hangs up with Blaine's laugher echoing in his ears.

Kurt sets down his phone and watches how the light reflects off his ring. He feels better having spoken with Blaine, knowing the whole story. And yet, despite his words of assurance, he's nervous too – they'll get through this, he knows that. But he also knows how scared Blaine is, how he worries about what Dr. Schamp could say.

Secretly, Kurt worries too.

But they'll get through it, just like they got through his dad's cancer and Finn and Blaine's parents.

Blaine supported him through one of the toughest times in his life; now it's his turn to support Blaine.

Text message from Blaine:

[photo] Civics is dry, too.

Kurt laughs.

-*-*-*-

Blaine opens another tab and types in his search criteria, sighing when he gets “about 13,600,000 results” in Google. He didn't lie to Kurt, the Civics material is dry, but it's also incredibly time consuming.

He skims through the results, trying to focus on finding relevant information even as his mind flashes back to the cars at the mall, and partially seen faces in the parking lot. Blaine sighs and shakes his head before clicking on a somewhat relevant article. He lasts ten minutes before he opens another tab and searches for forest green trucks in Ohio.

Yet another statistic he's hoping to cling to when he can't breathe.

Blaine narrows his eyes even as he finds what he's looking for, committing the number to memory. Moments later he's switched back to his Civics search and he's grateful for the music drifting from his iPod as he reads the material.

Some time later Blaine closes his book and places it in his bag with a sigh before he stretches his arms above his head. He closes his laptop and stands, crossing the room to grab his pajamas.

He's almost to the bathroom when he spots the envelope resting on the end table.

Curious, he stops by the bed, setting down the clothes and taking a seat before he picks it up, smiling when he takes in Kurt's handwriting and the small hearts decorating the front.

Kurt wrote him a letter.

His phone jolts him from his stupor, Love, Love, Love causing him to drop the letter on the bed, fingers trailing the – yours always, Kurt – before answering the call.

“You really need to stop with the presents.”

“What? Blaine – and didn't we just talk about you waiting for me to say ‘hello' –”

“I got your letter, Kurt.”

“Oh.” Kurt's voice has dropped, the word slightly breathless. “I asked Dad to make sure you found it today. I just – I know I can't always be there, right now. So I thought, well, it's silly, but I thought it might be nice to have something you could read.”

“It's not silly, Kurt.”

“Well, I'm glad you like it.”

“Of course!” The words are bit louder than he planned, and Blaine feels himself blush at his response. “It's – I can't even begin to describe that it means to me.”

“I'm glad. I meant it, too. All of it.”

Blaine shakes his head at Kurt's endearing thoughtfulness, and loses himself to conversation.

When he climbs into bed almost an hour later the letter has been safely – carefully – folded and placed in his wallet after being scanned to his laptop. As the quiet strains from his playlist echo in his ears, he replays the words in his mind.

He falls asleep with a smile.

-*-*-*-

Blaine jerks up, headphones tangling around his shoulders even as the sheets trap his legs. For a moment he can't move –

He can't move, the pain keeping him flat even as the coldness sinks in, settling in his bones. The darkness grows too –

Blaine shakes his head, physically pushing away the remnants of his nightmare. On the nightstand, the alarm glows.

3:37 A.M.

Blaine reaches for his phone, opening up his texts without thought.

Text message from Blaine:

Someone really should invent teleportation.

Blaine's managed to untangle the covers and settle down again before his phone lights up with a reply.

Text message from Kurt:

Yes, someone should. Then I'd be with you right now.

Blaine winces at the thought of waking Kurt up with one of his nightmares – it was bad enough over the weekend. Even if it was comforting.

Text message from Blaine:

You need sleep – college students are already sleep deprived.

Text message from Kurt:

You deserve sleep too. Do you have your iPod?

Text message from Blaine:

Yeah - hopefully it works this time

Text message from Blaine:

Love you.

Text message from Kurt:

I love you too! <3

-*-*-*-

Blaine leans against the car door, absently humming along to the song on the radio as Burt and Carole talk in the front seats. In his lap, his right hand taps his ring along to the beat. His bag rests next to him, and after a moment he pulls it closer, digs around until he finds his phone.

Not that he uses it, but it's a comforting weight against his leg.

Moments later the car rolls to a stop, and Blaine looks up as Burt cuts the engine, leaving the car in silence.

Blaine slowly undoes his seatbelt, throws his phone back in his bag before grabbing it and stepping out of the car. He closes Carole's door behind her and they move to stand near Burt.

“You've got nothin' to worry about, okay?” Burt's comment is calm, and Blaine meets his eyes with a nod. “And it's okay if this isn't the fit. There's other doctors.”

Blaine offers a weak smile before they turn and head for the doors.