Remind Me to Forget

Chapter 19

Kurt glances at the clock in the corner of his computer after he reads the same sentence for the third time. Two minutes since he last checked. Blaine's appointment should be ending soon, assuming his hour time-frame is correct.

Blaine promised to call, after.

Another minute later and his phone is still irritatingly silent.

Kurt sighs and leans down to dig his headphones out of his bag, plugging them in even as he opens up his music player. He manages a smile when the piano cover Clocks drifts through the speakers, and then switches back to the PDF, forces himself to focus on British theatre and read the twenty-nine page article.

He makes it through three more pages before a hand lands on his shoulder. He jumps, headphones falling to his lap before he spins his head to the left, sees Elliott standing there, hands raised, despite the cup resting in his left.

“Sorry, I didn't think you'd actually jump.”

Kurt shrugs, “I seem to only have friends that sneak up on me. But,” Kurt gestured to the empty chair across from him, “feel free to have seat.” Kurt pauses, gives Elliott a smile. “It's nice to see you, anyway. Since we didn't have practice last week it seems like it's been forever since I saw you.”

Elliott moves and takes the proffered chair, setting his bag under the table. “Changing your regular schedule and missing regular things always makes you feel different. Anyway, I'm not interrupting?”

“Hm?” Elliott nods to Kurt's still open computer. “Oh!” Kurt shakes his head, “Not at all. I was trying to get some research done, but the distraction had the opposite effect.” Seeing Elliott's questioning look Kurt hurries to continue, “I was trying to study instead of just sitting and staring at my phone waiting for Blaine to call, but it's not going well.”

“I thought Santana was exaggerating when she said you and Blaine were a nauseating couple who couldn't go twenty minutes without some form of communication.”

For a moment, surprise steals Kurt's words. He and Blaine can go twenty minutes without speaking; they're in a long-distance relationship, which is why he's stuck waiting –

“Oh! Oh, no.” Kurt pauses, takes a breath. “Blaine's first therapy appointment is today. Now, actually.”

Elliott leans forward in his chair. “Then I can't judge you for waiting.” He offers a smile and takes a sip from his cup, “How's he doing?”

“I don't know,” Kurt moaned, ducking his head as his hand reaches for his phone, “since he hasn't called me.”

“He will.”

Kurt looks up at Elliott's comment, offers him a small smile and a sigh. “I know I'm overreacting. But,” Kurt spins his engagement ring before taking a sip of his now-cold mocha, “he was so nervous, you know?”

“I can imagine.” Elliott fiddles with the coffee stirrer resting in his cup before meeting Kurt's gaze. “But overall…I mean, you just saw him, right?”

Kurt smiles, glances at his ring before looking across the table. “Yeah – it was great…”

“But?”

Kurt offers a half smile. “But it was different, seeing him.” Kurt takes another sip of his coffee, “I knew he has nightmares, but – he looked so scared. He's texted after he's woken up before, but it was different, seeing him.”

“Seeing things makes them more real.”

“Unfortunately.”

“Well, at least he's getting help.”

“Yes…I hope.” Kurt meets Elliott's questioning gaze and shrugs. “It's his first appointment. Based on what I've heard Dr. Schamp is a good doctor, but we can't know if she's the right doctor for Blaine. I mean,” Kurt looks down, focuses on the swirls on the table, “he's been dealing with this for so long, and he's realizing he can't handle it alone but he's still trying to be strong for everyone. Even when he texts me after, he downplays things I – I don't want him to, but hes so worried about being a burden…” Kurt lets the sentence trail off before taking another breath. “I just really hope Dr. Schamp can help.”

“If you've heard good things about her I'm sure she'll do her best to help him. And at least Blaine's getting help. I mean,” Elliott resettles in the chair, “I don't know fully how things are – that's your business – but from what you've told me, Blaine's dealing with a lot right now.”

“He jumped.”

“What?”

“This weekend…we were doing the dishes and then some idiot drove by without a muffler. And he jumped and it was – he just froze. Afterwards he acted like nothing had happened, and I could tell he didn't want to talk about it so I let it go, but,” Kurt pauses, grimacing when he drinks the last of his mocha (now mostly just chocolate and watered down coffee), “it made me wonder how many times he's done that – acted like he's fine.”

“But you noticed.”

“Sure I did, but I know Blaine better than anyone.” Kurt sighs, “Blaine's a great actor – if he doesn't want someone to know something, he can hide it.”

“Of course he can. And I know everyone hides things – just think of how New York would be otherwise,” Elliott comments after a huff of laughter, “but he's going to therapy, so he's realizing he doesn't have to, right? Plus,” Elliott leans forward again, “it sounds like he could use a break from acting.”

Kurt sighs and ducks his head for a moment, pushing away thoughts of Blaine frozen and quiet. Kurt manages a weak smile, “He could. I know he's tired, and I don't like that he's dealing with it on his own…I just really hope this helps. Sorry,” Kurt laughs, “I know I've said that a lot today.”

Elliott waves off the comment, “It's fine. I know –”

Elliott's comment is cut off by the ringing of Kurt's phone, and Kurt has it in his hand before the first chord has finished. Kurt gives Elliott an apologetic glance, but his friend is already standing, grabbing his bag.

Kurt accepts the call as Elliott leaves, giving a small wave.

“Hey.”

“Hi.” If Blaine noticed the slightly breathless quality to his voice when Kurt answered the phone, he makes no comment.

Silence stretches for a moment and then can't wait any more. “How – how was it?”

There's a sigh down the line, and Kurt's grip tightens before Blaine speaks. “It – it was good, I think.” Blaine pauses, but Kurt waits, knows his fiancé is gathering his thoughts. “She was really nice. We um, we didn't talk about it much – mostly we just got to know each other. But I set up another appointment for next week.”

Kurt releases a breath he hadn't realized he was holding.

“I'm glad it went well.” Kurt closes his eyes at his words. They're true, but not the ones he wants. Now that he's talking to Blaine the relief is messing with his head, making it hard for him to express his thoughts. “I mean, if after next week you realize that Dr. Schamp isn't the best for you then that's fine, really, but I'm glad today was okay.”

“It was.” Blaine's reply is warm, holding a hint of surprise. “I was really nervous before, but she didn't – um, she didn't force me to say anything. And she told me first thing that even if she thinks I,” a pause and Kurt can practically see Blaine scrunching his face before the words come out in a rush, “even if I have something she doesn't diagnose someone until the second visit.”

“Well,” Kurt pauses, leans back in his chair, “it's good that she wants to get to know you.”

“Yeah.” The word is softer than Blaine's previous comments. “But…next week, Kurt. I don't – I know something is – I mean, I'm seeing things and the nightmares but,” Blaine sighs and Kurt wishes he could offer him a hug, “I'll find out next week.”

“We'll find out next week,” Kurt corrects, putting emphasis on the first word, “and no matter what she says, you're going to get through this.” Kurt waits a moment and then continues, making sure his voice stays steady, “We're going to get through whatever this is, Blaine, I promise.”

“I know,” Kurt smiles at Blaine's certainty, even as he takes notice of the undertone of exhaustion, the hint of nervousness. “I wish we didn't have to, though.”

Kurt sits in silence for a moment, debating what to say. “It's what's happening, though, and we're together. Just – just try and remember that.” The end of the words comes out as a question, uncertain of the strength of his sentiment.

“Like I could forget you.” Blaine's words make Kurt release a breath of laughter, relaxing his grip on his phone. “But really, thank you. It helps, knowing I can always talk to you.”

“That's what I'm here for,” Kurt adds, hoping to lighten the mood a bit. “But from what you've said, it sounds like Dr. Schamp might be helpful, too.”

“I think she might be, but,” Blaine releases a breath, “your dad is waving from the table, and I think it's my sign that I should head back.”

“The table?”

“Oh! Sorry, I just wanted to talk to you and I forgot – your dad and Carole took me out for ice cream, after. I think they took their time eating so I could call, actually.”

Kurt's overwhelmed with gratitude for a moment, mentally reminds himself to thank his dad and Carole later. “My dad can have good ideas, sometimes. But don't –”

“Don't worry,” Blaine interrupts, “your secret's safe. But I really should go…” The sentence trails off, and for a moment Kurt wants to argue, to tell Blaine he's not allowed to hang up the phone.

But he can't.

“Tell them hi for me, okay?”

“Of course!”

“I love you,” Kurt replies, not even caring that his voice has gone soft, fond in a way that makes Rachel sigh when they watch chick flicks.

“I love you too – I'll call you later.”

“Hm,” Kurt sighs, “I have work so how about I call you. I shouldn't be too late, though.”

“I'll anxiously await your call then.”

Kurt laughs again. “You're still a dork, Blaine Anderson.”

“Mm,” Blaine agrees, “but I'm still your dork. Love you!”

“I love you too,” Kurt repeats and then ends the call.

He sets the phone down on the table and takes a deep breath, relishing in the knowledge that Blaine's appointment went well (all things considered) and that Blaine's okay for now, probably being force-fed ice cream by his dad and Carole. He feels his lips form a small smile at the thought.

He glances at his computer and his smile falls.

He still has research to do.

Kurt slightly shakes his head even as he opens the PDF again, and he considers it an achievement when he manages to finish a paragraph without having to re-read sentences.

Hopefully he'll finish it before he has to leave to change and head for the diner.

-*-*-*-

Blaine shuts the hood of the Camry, wincing when it snaps shut with a bit too much force. A car over, Jim looks up at the sound, gives Blaine a confused glance before Blaine offers a sheepish smile and raises his hands. Jim nods before looking back down and Blaine releases a sigh.

He needs to focus.

Blaine shakes his head before turning and heading for Burt's office. He makes it to the doorway before he notices that the office is empty. A quick glance around doesn't show Burt either, and he sighs before another mechanic nods toward the back, and Blaine sees Burt crouched by an SUV, obviously busy. At a loss for what to do, he heads for the line of tool boxes, grabbing the empty bucket stored next to them.

Moments later he's making his way around the cars, picking up tools left, unneeded, on the floor. The simple work keeps his hands busy, and he scans the floor with precise sweeps of his eyes, but it doesn't keep his mind from wandering.

What he'd told Kurt was true: Dr. Schamp was nice, and her office was surprising comfortable, with overstuffed furniture and piles of books.

Still, he can't forget the fact that for all that today was his first appointment, it wasn't his first session.

Not really.

There'd been no discussion of possible diagnosis, and while his sightings of the cars and nightmares had been mentioned, they weren't the focus of the discussion. Mostly, he'd talked about Glee, and getting ready for New York.

And Kurt.

Luckily he hadn't seen any judgment when he called Kurt his fiancé, and she'd even laughed when he'd gone off on a ten minute monologue about Kurt's accomplishments in New York.

But it was conversation, a ‘get to know each other session' where they shared backgrounds and Blaine's problems had only been a few mentions in between stories. Next week was therapy, and Blaine knew his nightmares – and everything else – would hold focus.

Oddly enough, Blaine feels more nervous about the upcoming appointment than he had earlier, sitting in the waiting room with Burt and Carole.

He drops a wrench and a discarded towel into the bucket, absently taking in the sounds of tools and the barely-there music drifting from the radio in the corner. Blaine keeps walking, stopping a few minutes later to pick up a wrench, only to jump when a hand lands on his shoulder.

“Whoa. Sorry, kid.”

Turning, Blaine sees Burt standing to his right, hands slightly raised and a contrite look on his face.

Blaine shakes his head, offers Burt a small smile. “It's fine, really. Um,” Blaine pauses for a moment, sets the bucket so it rests on the floor, “did you want me to do something?”

Burt nods toward the front of the garage where a Chevy Cruze sits. “Apparently it's making some weird noises; since you insisted on coming in today I thought you could take a look at it with me.”

“Sure,” Blaine reaches for the bucket, only to be stopped by Burt.

“Don't worry about that, Blaine.” Burt gestures to the Cruze, “We're headed the opposite way anyway.”

Blaine shrugs and rises from this half crouch, following Burt across the garage. “So…it's just making a weird noise?”

Burt shrugs. “That's what the owner said. Some kind of ‘thump' when the car goes above forty miles per hour.”

“Hm,” Blaine looks toward the car, considering.

“We'll run some diagnostics; hopefully that'll help some.” There's a pause as they reach the car and Burt lifts the hood. “So,” Burt draws out the word, but keeps his gaze on the engine, “I'm not gonna ask you for details – that's none of my business – but I know you got another appointment coming up. I just want you to know that if you change your mind, if she's not the right fit that's okay. Just let me know and we'll find another doctor.”

Blaine stands next to Burt, focuses on the engine for a minute and ignores the slight stinging in his eyes and lump forming in this throat. He swallows, and clears his throat. “I – thanks, Mr. Hummel,” Blaine takes another breath, “but hopefully things will work out.”

“I hope so too,” Burt moves and squeezes Blaine's shoulder, “I want you to get the best help you can.”

“She was very nice,” Blaine comments, “it wasn't that bad. But, I know next week is going to be…different.”

Burt hums in agreement as he inspects the spark plugs, “Just remember you're gettin' help, kid – there's nothing wrong with that.”

“I'm getting that,” Blaine replies with a small smile, “but I really just want all this to be over.”

“I understand, kid. I'm proud of how you've handled all this,” there's a pause before he continues, “that doesn't mean I don't wish you didn't have to.” The latter part of the sentence comes out mumbled, and Blaine strains to pick out the individual words.

Blaine stays quiet, unsure of how to respond. The lump is back in his throat, and he's overwhelmed with gratitude. “I – um, thank you.”

“No need to thank me. Now,” Burt releases a sigh and moves his hands from the engine, “looks like we're gonna be here a while; how about you tell me about this performance you guys got Saturday.”

Blaine nods in agreement and then replies, sharing his nervousness and excitement.

-*-*-*-

Kurt's desk chair is surprisingly (or maybe not, it is Kurt's after all) comfortable, and Blaine leans back to stretch after finishing his essay. Leaning back forward he switches tabs on his browser, bringing up Amazon with a small smile.

The birthday e-gift card from his parents should get some use, after all.

Twenty minutes later Blaine pushes the chair back, order placed. He closes his laptop and organizes the text books on the desk, slipping the ones he'll need for the next day back into his bag.

Standing, he picks up his empty cup from the desk; taking it to the kitchen will be a welcome break. Plus, he knows there's some leftover birthday cake in the fridge.

Apparently History makes him hungry.

Fifteen minutes later, stomach full of cake and the dirty glass responsibly placed in the dishwasher, he returns to Kurt's – no matter what Kurt says, the room is still his. Blaine sits back on Kurt's bed, relaxing against the pillows even as he uncaps his green highlighter, setting the cap on the nightstand. He rests The Turn of the Screw on his bent legs, sighing despite the music – a piano cover of Shadow of the Day – drifting from his iPod.

He shakes his head, focuses on the book.

Blaine releases a sigh and moves a book a little, making sure he has enough support for when he starts highlighting. He begins to read and loses track of time, only looking up from his book when he his phone chimes.

Text message from Kurt:

There's a group of tipsy crewmembers from some show that keep asking for more salt – I'm pretty sure they're making drinks at the table.

Text message from Kurt:

It would be funny if their intoxication didn't mean they change their orders every two minutes.

Blaine huffs a laugh at Kurt's messages, setting his book aside.

Text message from Blaine:

At least it sounds somewhat entertaining?

Text message from Kurt:

Yes Blaine, it's terribly entertaining have to cancel a double bacon cheeseburger for loaded fries with extra cheese.

Text message from Kurt:

But thank you for being my optimistic fiancé! ;)

Text message from Blaine:

It's in my job description

Text message from Blaine:

And, you should be done soon, right?

Text message from Kurt:

Twenty more minutes…

Text message from Kurt:

And what am I distracting you from?

Blaine glances to the book beside him, the notebook with scrawled notes lying next to it.

Text message from Blaine:

[photo] Homework…but I finished the required pages – you have perfect timing! :D

Text message from Kurt:

I did, but now the order's up :(

Text message from Blaine:

Don't let any tipsy crewmembers make you too upset!

Text message from Blaine:

Love you! <3

Blaine smiles and sets the phone aside again, frozen as he debates if he wants to read more than the required pages. Then he remembers the upcoming performance, and nationals.

He should read ahead while he has the time.

-*-*-*-

Kurt closes the loft door with a sigh, absently noting the sound of Rachel belting out Don't Rain on my Parade. Things are still rocky, though he has started leaving a cup of hot tea on the table for her in the mornings as a peace offering. They share polite hellos when they see each other, and Kurt remembers the cliché interactions between polar opposite roommates on made for tv movies. Still, it's better than the lack of any interaction that had lasted for over a week. Shaking his head, Kurt   moves to his room, dropping his bag by his desk. Minutes later he enters the kitchen, relaxed in his pajamas, making a beeline for the coffee maker.

Moments later he leans against the counter, eyeing the coffee maker and wishing he could afford to buy a new one with a shorter wait time. The drips as the coffee brews are actually fairly annoying.

He can still hear Rachel.

Absently, he notices that her notes are held longer – her breathing has improved, at least. Part of him wants to reconcile; he misses his friend. The unexpected conversation with Carole over the weekend he was home had dredged up feelings too, leaving him feeling wrung out – tired. And yet, even while he misses movie nights and sing-a-longs, he can't forget Rachel's words, her focus on herself, on Funny Girl. Her single-mindedness is nothing new, but it cuts more now, when she's so focused on her own problems that she fails to notice Kurt's own stress.

Part of him can't forget that Santana noticed, and Rachel didn't.

Rachel didn't know about Blaine, but only because she hadn't taken the time to actually talk to Kurt.

Before graduation he'd heard all the stories: friends would drift apart, people you saw everyday would become people you talked to once a month, or during breaks. Or someone you only contacted through Facebook.

Of course, Kurt had dismissed all of them – that wouldn't happen to Glee, they were the exception, surely.

He and Rachel haven't had a ‘girl chat' in almost a month.

The coffee finishes and he moves to the cabinet, pulling down his favorite mug. Moments later the mug is filled with doctored coffee (milk and sugar are needed – black coffee is a menace to society) and he breathes in the steam before cautiously taking a sip.

Rachel finishes her song.

Kurt waits, leaving it to fate: If Rachel leaves her room he'll attempt to make up, if she stays he'll take it for the sign that it is. Regardless of Rachel's volume when singing, there's no way she didn't hear the door, and given Santana's propensity for commenting on Rachel's singing, she had to know Kurt was the one who'd entered.

Four slowly timed sips later, Kurt remains alone in the kitchen, the curtain to Rachel's room unmoving.

With a sigh, Kurt moves away from the counter and returns to his room. He sits at his desk, carefully setting his mug next to laptop. He runs his hand over the touchpad, smiling when his screensaver melts away and he sees his and Blaine's smiling faces, engagement rings proudly on display.

Sometimes, Carole's attachment to her camera was a good thing.

Shaking his head, Kurt moves to open his Internet browser, sighing when he logs in to his email and sees notifications that his requests through lnterlibrary Loan have been fulfilled.

Of course they have, hours after he left the library.

Making a mental note to stop by the library again the next day, he moves on, ignoring the alerts about replies on his class's discussion board and reminders about sales at the bookstore. Inbox cleared moments later, Kurt pulls up the draft of his upcoming paper, wincing when takes in the page count.

He's still three pages short, not counting his citations.

McKinley hadn't mentioned the countless papers when he was preparing for college, even if NYADA is a performing arts school. Kurt doesn't mind writing, usually, but this many papers in the short time frame is trying his patience with academia.

Still, Kurt's never backed down from a challenge, and he eyes the page count through narrowed eyes before starting his music.

His conversation with Blaine on the way home from the diner has left him in a decent mood, regardless of his lack of interaction with Rachel and his annoyance at research papers. Blaine had sounded comfortable on the phone, summarizing his therapy appointment again before sharing how he and Burt had spent two hours trying to figure out what was wrong with a car. Despite the time put in they hadn't found an obvious problem and it was driving Kurt's dad crazy.

Blaine had laughed, shared how Carole had eventually forbid Burt from mentioning anything related to cars at the dinner table.

Kurt smiles at the memory before shaking his head and refocusing on the Word document.

The sooner he finishes the sooner he can switch focus to his dancing practice. It's tiring, and difficult, but it helps him clear his thoughts, focusing on steps and arm positions. The work is demanding but different enough from his research (and seemingly endless papers) that it helps him settle.

But, that's next on his To-Do list. First, he has to finish his paper.

Text message from Kurt:

[photo] I know I can meet the page count, but why are research papers evil?

Text message from Blaine:

They have to be, but yes, you can meet the page requirement! :)

Text message from Kurt:

You really are a cheerleader…

Text message from Blaine:

Only for you!

Smiling at Blaine's response, Kurt sets the phone aside and turns back to his laptop. He can handle fifteen-hundred words.

After taking another sip of his coffee Kurt stretches and focuses on screen.

He has this.

-*-*-*-

It's warm, and the outdoor stage and crowds remind Blaine a bit too much of his summer jobs at theme parks. Still, he hums with nervous energy, mentally replaying the steps (and notes) of their performance.

He jolts in surprise when his phone vibrates, pulling him from his thoughts.

Text message from Kurt:

Courage

Text message from Blaine

Love you! <3

Text message from Kurt:

I love you, too. And I'm sure the performance will be great!

Text message from Blaine

That's the hope…

Text message from Kurt:

No hope needed; you know this music and you're amazing!

Blaine smiles at Kurt's reassurance, feels a bit of the tension leave his shoulders. Hearing his name, Blaine turns, sees Carole making her way to him.

“You'll be great, you know,” Carole comments, nodding toward the stage.

“I hope so,” Blaine hears the thready quality in his voice, notes that his voice is higher than usual.

“I've seen you practice,” Carole replies, “and you know this, Blaine.”

Blaine hums in agreement, scanning the crowd. “I knew it before, too.”

“It was a misstep,” Carole places a hand on his shoulder, “they happen. And you're a great performer, Blaine.”

“And if I see another truck? Or car, or someone with the same hair color?” The words come out in a rush, his fears vocalized.”

“Then you see it,” Carole's words have him spinning in surprise, confused even as she continues, “I hope you don't, but I can't predict the future, Blaine, and you could see any number of things. And you know what? That's okay. You've had trauma, Blaine, and you've been dealing with it. But trauma affects people,” Carole pauses, takes a breath, “and you can only do so much alone. You've been to one appointment, Blaine. It's not a magic fix. But even if you misstep again, it's not the end of the world.” She holds up a hand when Blaine goes to speak and he concedes with a slight dip of his head. “No one's going to fault you, and you know this performance inside and out.”

Blaine stands in silence for a moment, taking in Carole's words. Moments later he closes the two steps between them, wraps her in a tight hug. He pulls away not long after, ducking his head to hide his blush.

“Thank you.” Blaine keeps his head down even as he says the words, embarrassed at his inability to properly express the torrent of emotions swirling in his head.

“You really don't have to thank me, but thanks for the hug.” Carole's smiling when Blaine finally meets her gaze.

“I –”

“Hey Blaine! We gotta warm up!” Sam's shout interrupts Blaine reply, and he offers Carole a small shrug.

“Looks like you have to go get ready; I won't keep you. We'll find you afterwards, okay?”

Blaine nods before turning away, jogging over to where the rest of the Glee club is standing behind the stage.

“– only piano is on stage,” Blaine catches the end of Mr. Schue's comment as he approaches, moves to stand in between Sam and Tina, “so we're going to have to go old school for warm ups today.” Well, that explains why Mr. Schue has a pitch pipe in his hand. Only at McKinley would a pitch pipe be considered old school. Yet, with most of their arrangements having accompaniment it makes sense that the Glee members are more used to having a piano.

Sometimes Blaine forgets the strong musical differences between the New Directions and the Warblers (both require a lot of work) – and then something like this happens and he remembers.

Pushing the thoughts away Blaine returns his attention to Mr. Schue, who's scanning the group. “Alright guys, you've been working hard and nailed this in practice. Let's give them a show!”

A round of scales and sung tongue twisters later, Blaine takes his place on the stage, flashing Tina a quick smile before moving to his starting position. At the front of the stage, Mr. Schue takes the microphone and introduces them, reminding the audience of the New Directions past accomplishments. Then, after some polite applause Mr. Schue motions to the band.

The music starts and Blaine counts the beats of the intro before he looks out over the audience, takes a breath, and starts to sing.

Carole was right: he does know this performance.

The crowd is clapping and Sam and Unique have pulled him in for a group bow turned hug before he realizes that the set of three songs for Nationals is finished.

The set is finished and he didn't mess up. Blaine smiles, feels his cheeks start to ache with the force of it but can't bring himself to care.

“That was awesome!”  Blaine nods at Sam's shout, catches Tina's answering grin a few feet away. They revel for a moment, basking in the satisfaction of a job well done.

And then Artie gives them all a slightly exasperated look and reminds them they still have an audience waiting for another half hour of music. Blaine nods, laughing, and heads back over to the piano, sitting down and playing the opening chords of the next song. He casts a quick glance out to the crowd, sees Burt and Carole's proud smiles before he turns back to the stage.

The performance isn't over.

-*-*-*-

Kurt wakes to the chime of his phone, fumbles to move the blankets in order to sit up. He reaches for his blinking phone, glad for the golden glow seeping through his windows – street lamps are good for something, occasionally. Kurt stretches his arms, takes a moment to rub some sleep from his eyes before unlocking his phone, blinking when the harsh light breaks through the dim light.

2:54 A.M.

Text message from Blaine:

I think the playlist is losing its effect :(

Even though Kurt knew it was a nightmare, the words still cause emotions to swell in him. Blaine doesn't deserve this. He had hoped – futilely, it seems – that the exhilaration of performing well at the festival would stave off the nightmares.

He should have known better.

Text message from Kurt:

I'm sorry – Want me to call?

Kurt wishes he were back in Ohio, curled up around Blaine; wishes he could fight Blaine's nightmares. More than anything, he wishes Blaine wasn't dealing with this in the first place, but he is, and so he adjusts his hopes accordingly.

Text message from Blaine:

No…it's late

Text message from Blaine:

…sorry for waking you up, again

Kurt sighs, pushes down the flash of irritation at Blaine's apology even as he yawns.

Text message from Kurt:

We've been over this…

Text message from Kurt:

But you should try and get some sleep, too

Text message from Blaine:

I'll try – maybe second time's the charm, tonight

Text message from Kurt:

We'll hope that's the case, but if it's not…you better text me again

Text message from Blaine:

I know better than to tempt the wrath of Kurt Hummel

Kurt releases a small laugh, shaking his head even as he types his reply.

Text message from Kurt:

Yes you do :)

Text message from Kurt:

And for what it's worth, I'm wishing you sweet dreams <3

Text message from Blaine:

It's worth everything

Text message from Blaine:

Sweet dreams for you, too. I love you! <3

Text message from Kurt:

I love you too – now try and get some sleep :)

Kurt sets his phone back on the nightstand with a small sigh, still wishing New York wasn't miles away from Blaine – or that some genius had perfected teleportation. They remain wishes, though, so he flips his pillow instead before grabbing Margaret Thatcher-Dog from the empty space beside him. Blaine had slipped the dog into his suitcase along with a note, and now he clutches the stuffed animal, breathing in the traces of Blaine's cologne and not caring that if Santana finds out he'll never hear the end of it.

Blaine isn't the only one with fears.

He briefly tightens his hold on the dog, pulls it closer to his chest. He thinks of Blaine and closes his eyes, pictures his fiancé as he slips closer to sleep.