Remind Me to Forget

Chapter 21

“If one more hungover guy changes his order because he can't read the menu I can't be held responsible for my actions.” Kurt rips the order sheet off his pad and places it in the order window before leaning against the counter beside Dani, smiling and nodding in thanks when she passes him a mug of coffee. He takes a sip and closes his eyes in appreciation.

“You make it sound like the reordering is a new thing.”

Kurt opens his eyes at Dani's comment, “Every week I have this hope where I exaggerated the annoyance of the week before and–”

“I think you're being hailed.”

“What?” Kurt follows the direction of Dani's nod and sees one of the hungover students weakly waving his arm.

“Great.” Kurt sighs and sets down his mug before pushing away from the counter, absenting grabbing the coffee pot and unable to keep from mumbling that he's ‘still not responsible' as he heads for the table, ignoring Dani as he goes.

He manages a smile by the time he arrives, forces himself to keep it in place as his customer – who obviously slept in his clothes – mutters about adding bacon to his order (eggs over easy, sausage links, pancakes, toast) and asking if the diner has hot sauce and requesting two bottles once Kurt responds that they do.

He circles the table then, refilling the half-full coffee cups while shamelessly eavesdropping to the scandal of a party his patrons had attended the night before. Kurt ducks his head to hide his eye-roll when he overhears something involving silly string and basketball nets.

He has his phone out by the time he's replaced the coffee pot and added the order of bacon to the kitchen's list.

Text message from Kurt:

Why do people insist on going out to eat when they're obviously hungover?

It's only after he hits ‘send' that he remembers the time difference. Kurt suppresses a wince before starting another message.

Text message from Kurt:

Sorry! I forgot about the time difference!!

Text message from Blaine:

Don't worry – you're a much better wake-up call ;)

Kurt lets out a breath of laughter and shakes his head; leave it to Blaine to have a cheesy comment, even – apparently – moments after waking.

Text message from Blaine:

Would you rather they attempt to cook and set their kitchens on fire?

Kurt smiles at Blaine's response while he eyes his patrons. He certainly wouldn't trust them in any kitchen in their current state, although the cynical side of himself still wishes they'd stayed home – his chances of getting tips are lower than any chance of fire.

Text message from Kurt:

If they then use their insurance money to eat out and give me tips I'm not seeing a downside…

Text message from Kurt:

Although they'd probably still be hungover, so I don't think there's a way for me to win in this situation.

Text message from Blaine:

…you're still zigging

Kurt pauses, feels his face scrunch in momentary confusion before he remembers the first bouquet of red and yellow roses, feeling both proud and slightly envious of Blaine, but both being eclipsed by the sense of rightness when he thought of his relationship with Blaine.

“I thought your customers were the ones struggling with thought.”

“What?”

“You were zoned out,” Dani narrows her eyes before she looks down and sees his phone and gives him a smirk worthy of Santana. “And now I know why.”

“What? No!” Kurt ignores the blush he feels spreading across his cheeks even as he lowers his voice to continue. “You're as bad as your girlfriend; and yes, I was texting Blaine, but not in the way you're thinking.” Kurt leans the counter, side-eying Dani. “Unlike some people I have standards,” Dani gives an impressive snort before raising her hands in supplication. “Blaine just reminded me of the first time I gave him flowers.”

“That's so sweet! Tell me the story.”

Kurt turns and feels the last of his tension leave as he takes in Dani's relaxed expression and wide eyes; she genuinely wants to know.

Well, never let it be said Kurt hesitates to share his and Blaine's high school love story.

He's interrupted by the arrival of his customers' assortment of breakfast items, and with a sigh and shrug he steps away from Dani, balancing the tray of plates. The group seems more alert a Kurt approaches the table, and conversation slows to a stop once he begins handing over orders. There are groans of appreciation and one enthusiastic patron declares his love for Kurt. Kurt offers a surprised laugh in response and flashes his ring with an exaggerated wave even as he gives the kitchen credit for the food.

“So what was that about?” Dani nods to the table as he rejoins her by the counter, taking a sip of his newly filled coffee cup.

“Apparently delivering two stacks of pancakes is worthy of love from a stranger; who knew?”

“I'm sure Blaine will be thrilled.”

Kurt takes another sip of coffee and looks at his ring, remembers their texts earlier. “He's fully aware of how charming I can be.”

“Even without flowers?”

“Very funny,” Kurt replies as he sets down his mug, “There's no competition, but even if there was, he certainly wouldn't have to worry about hungover, simple minded college students.”

“But he could worry over strong minded college students?”

“Are you looking for an argument or something?”

Dani laughs and reaches for cloth, wiping down the counter. “Nope. I'm just bored, and arguments are more fun.”

Kurt shakes his head, taking a moment to consider his response. “You never say what's expected, do you?” It comes out as a statement.

“I thought you knew that already,” Dani comments as she focuses on a spot on the counter, “Anyway, since you're talking to him, how are things in L.A.?”

Kurt smiles and takes another sip of his coffee.  “Fine as of last night,” he sets down his mug and raises his hands in a placating gesture when Dani glares, “What? He hasn't mentioned it today – he just woke up!”

Dani pauses and raises her brows. “So? You have a phone…”

“You're that interested in California?”

“Remember how I'm bored?”

Text message from Kurt:

Dani wants to know how things are in L.A.

Text message from Blaine:

Dani wants to know?

Text message from Blaine:

You're my fiancé – you don't need to have a friend ask to get information ;)

Kurt laughs and shakes his head, ignoring Dani's question of ‘what did he say?' and typing out a reply.

Text message from Kurt:

She really does want to know…and I do, too.

Text message from Kurt:

And you should know better – I'd never use the friend ruse

Text message from Blaine:

We just finished breakfast and now it's off to rehearsal. Although something happened with Jake and Marley – something about her songs, private lives, and judgment? I don't even want to know…

Text message from Kurt:

It wouldn't be a competition without some drama :)

Kurt relays Blaine's comment to Dani and then pauses, stares at his phone.

Text message from Kurt:

But…everything else is okay?

He sets his phone down and moves his coffee mug so Dani can continue her cleaning; he then takes the coffee pot from the stand, quickly crossing and refilling the mugs of the still hungover students.

Dani's at her own table when he returns, and he's internally grateful as he notes the blinking light on his phone.

Text message from Blaine:

Your dad's fine – he even had a healthy breakfast! :) And Carole was convincing Jake to stop complaining so she's good, too.

Text message from Blaine:

But in answer to your question, I'm fine. Just nervous.

Kurt feels himself relax as he reads Blaine's messages, happy for the small insight into his family's morning.

Text message from Kurt:

Just the right about of nervous, I hope – you're still performing for you.

Text message from Kurt:

And your songs are wonderful, so keep rehearsal fun too – you guys know this :)

After hitting send Kurt takes a moment to futilely wish he had the time – and money – to be in California. He knows the New Directions are ready, he knows they'll perform well; he just wishes he could see Blaine for himself.

Text message from Blaine:

:) You're the best cheerleader

Kurt laughs and then sighs when he sees the customer from before – hopefully he doesn't need more bacon – looking around the diner with a determined look.

Text message from Kurt:

The hungover masses are calling…have a good rehearsal! <3

With a sigh Kurt puts his phone back in his apron pocket, forces a smile on his face, and heads for the table.

-*-*-*-

“They were really good –”

“Did you see their spins?”

“Do you know how to tie these –”

Blaine sighs and tunes out the frantic comments of his fellow Glee members. He forces his hands to unclench from fists and continues to head for an empty corner, between the curtain and the wall. Backstage is chaos – nothing uncommon during a performance – but Blaine pushes it aside, focusing on the curtain.

Moments later he pushes the edge of the curtain aside, taking a breath as he peeks around it, eying the crowd. The murmurs blend together, a familiar wall of sound. The lights flicker as Blaine catches sight of a group of young men hurrying to their seats.

The curtain drops quickly, rippling as it falls into place and Blaine steps back with a sharp step.

Breathe in. We're in Los Angeles for Nationals.

Breathe out. We go on stage in fifteen minutes.

Breathe in. New Directions are the reigning champions.

Breathe out. I have to –

“How you doin' Blaine?”

Blaine startles at the hand on his shoulder, turns to see Burt beside him with a smile, familiar baseball cap shadowing his face.  He flashes a smile and shrugs his shoulders.

“It's a lot to take in.”

“Certainly different from Lima. But a stage is still a stage, and I've been watchin' your practices, both with the group and on the piano at home; you're a great performer. Relax.”

A surprised laugh escapes and Blaine shakes his head. “This is my last show choir competition.”

“Yup,” Burt pauses and Blaine barely manages to keep his shock hidden. “So it's your last competition, that means something, but it's not everything. Just do what you do. You're part of a show choir: show them.”

Blaine starts to respond before stopping, taking more time to consider Burt's words. They join with Kurt's from the night before, but the thrum of nervousness stays with him, keeps his hands tapping against his thighs.

Burt speaks again in the ensuing silence. “Carole'll be here soon. She went back to the room to get some things. I think – she just needed a break. You're right; it is a lot.”

Despite Burt's previous words – and Kurt's complimentary texts from the night before – Blaine's mind races, and he feels the pressure returning to his shoulders.

They have to win.

“– be in the front. I made sure we got seats so you can pick us out of the crowd.” Blaine forces himself to focus on the end of Burt's comment, gives him a smile as he finishes speaking.

“I'll be sure to look to you,” Blaine says, “are you on the right? Left?”

“The middle, actually,” Burt responds with a smile, “but the right – well, the left for you on stage.”

“Alright guys!” Mr. Schue's shout has Blaine jerking under Burt's hand before he turns to see the choir director further backstage, anxiously walking back and forth, pulling members of New Directions to him as he passes.

“Time to go,” Burt straightens his hat and Blaine nods before they start walking, meeting up with Artie and Kitty. Burt steps away moments later, and Blaine watches as he joins Mr. Schue a few yards away.

“You ready for this?”

Blaine turns at Artie's question. “Mm. I hope so…I guess we'll find out soon, though.”

“Yeah,” Artie rolls his chair a bit closer, lowers his voice as he speaks the next words. “It's…different, this time. I mean – I know it's different because of…everything. But I've never had a solo in the opening song before.”

“You'll be great,” Blaine's quick to reply, “You were awesome in rehearsal earlier.”

“You really are a cheerleader,” Artie's nervous smile takes any sting out of his mumbled words, and Blaine smiles in response.

“He's right though,” Kitty adds, taking a seat in Artie's lap. “Besides, I agree with him and my opinion is the one you care about.”

Absently, Blaine notes that Artie replies but Sam is standing a few feet away, wringing his hands and walking in a small circle.

“You okay?”

“Wha – oh.” Sam stops and turns to face Blaine. “We gotta win this, you know? And we're good, I know we're good, but Jean-Baptiste was –”

“Whoa. Sam?” Blaine waits for Sam to meet his gaze before continuing, “Take a breath.”

He does.

“We still gotta win. And I have to help everyone, Blaine, Mr. Schue –”

Blaine holds up a hand to stop Sam's sentence, internally wincing at the reminder of Sam's leadership role. “It's still a performance. And the New Directions can always perform, even before Blam was in the picture.”

Sam smiles and shakes his head. “Right. You're right. But,” Sam pauses, looks over to where Mr. Schue is still talking with Burt, “there's more this year. And…wait. Where's Carole?”

“What?”

“Carole,” Sam gestures over to where their chaperones are still talking. “Where is she?”

“Burt said she just went to get something from their room. She's on her way, I'm sure.”

“Okay. So for my speech. What do you think of Braveheart?”

“Alright everyone! C'mon, we've only got a few minutes!” Mr. Schue's shout thankfully interrupts Blaine's need to reply, and he turns, joins the New Directions as they gather, Tina skidding to slightly breathless stop moments later. “Okay, it's a big day so –”

“So go out and show the wonderful audience how amazing the New Directions are!” Carole's voice interrupts Mr. Schue's words, and Blaine feels a bit of the tenseness ease from his shoulders. “Sorry I'm late,” Carole continues, “But I mean it. You kids are amazing. The New Directions,” Carole lets out a breath and ducks her head. When she looks back up her eyes shine but her voice stays strong, carrying over the din of backstage. “Finn loved this choir. He really did. And I know that not all of you had the chance to perform with him, but I've watched you perform,” Blaine smiles when Carole's gaze rests on him for a moment, “I've watched you practice, you all put your hearts into this. Finn – Finn would be so proud of you.”

There's silence for a moment, and Blaine briefly closes his eyes, remembers Finn's enthusiasm when they were preparing a year ago.

“He would,” Blaine opens his eyes when he hears Burt's addition, watches as Carole looks around and he makes sure to offer her a smile when she catches his eye before Burt continues, “Finn would be so proud of you kids.”

“And we'll be cheering for you regardless of what happens on that stage,” Carole adds, “The performance matters but have fun out there.”

Her words are met with a round of yells, claps, as the New Directions close in, and Blaine steps forward, getting a quick, firm hug from Carole before he's pulled away, turning to receive a high five with Ryder.

Moments later Burt and Carole are gone, leaving for their seats and Blaine joins the rest of the New Directions as they wait for their cue.

Text message from Blaine:

Two minutes!

Text message from Kurt:

You'll be amazing! And Dad's sending me video so I'll be able to see later. Wish I could be there!

Text message from Blaine:

Thanks! <3

Text message from Kurt:

Go make the world jealous that you already have a fiancé.

Text message from Blaine:

I don't know about the world…

Text message from Kurt:

Go blow them away

Text message from Kurt:

Love you!! <3

Blaine smiles and puts his phone back in his pocket, ignores the rush of whispers from his fellow Glee members.

Breathe in. It's a performance.

Breathe out. It's the same performance as a week ago.

Breathe in. We can win.

Breathe out. We have to win.

The curtain rises and Blaine takes his place on the dark stage. Moments later the lights hit the stage and he quickly blinks before focusing on the audience, spots Burt and Carole beaming in the front row. The music starts then, and Blaine takes a breath as he counts the beats of the introduction. A breath and then he's singing, crossing the stage before turning, smiling when Artie starts his solo.

Then the measures rush together, the solos from Unique and Ryder blending and Blaine's holding the final note of the song before he realizes it, crossing the stage seconds later to take a seat at the piano. He waits for a moment, takes a breath and forces his hands to still before placing them on the keys, wrists up and arched as he releases his breath. He casts a quick glance to Tina and steps on the pedal once she nods.

All of his practice for this one performance.

He smiles at Tina, nods in return and then begins to play; he focuses on the runs, on keeping on beat and keeping the notes smooth even when he joins in singing after Sam and Tina have their solos.

Blaine finishes the song and carefully pushes the bench back, getting to his feet and blinking when the lights change, shifting from the white and blue of before to a soft gold. By the time Blaine takes his place beside Unique – finishing the half circle – the angle of the light has changed too, and Blaine keeps his eyes forward (facing stage right rather than the audience) and gives Marley a smile.

He glances around the semi-circle, sees the hint of nervousness everyone's attempting to hide. Their closing song is their most challenging; a choice borne when the pain of Finn was still fresh, when the choir room stood empty because they couldn't bear to enter.

Blaine takes another breath before reaching and pulling the circular pitch pipe from his pocket.

A moment later, the tone rings out and he lowers his hand: The New Directions take a breath and then start their first a capella piece on the national stage.

The song ends and there's a beat of silence before a roar of applause echoes in the auditorium and Blaine joins hands with Unique, stepping back until the semi-circle has become a line. They bow and Blaine can't keep the smile from his face, even as a new thrum of nervousness rises; they've performed, they're done and now all that's left is for the judges to make their decision.

The clapping continues as Blaine joins the line of New Directions moving backstage, excited whispers carrying over the click of heels.

“Think it was enough?”

Blaine turns at Tina's question, sees her biting her lip beside him and smiles before giving a small shrug. “I don't know. We did the best we could though; I know that.”

Tina hums in response and squeezes his arm. “Yeah.”

Now backstage, Blaine drifts aside, Tina moving to follow Unique and Marley while he leans against the wall.

There's nothing left to do; they've performed the best they can, and there's two more choirs before the judges step out; there's nothing left to do and Blaine doesn't know where the New Directions stand.

They have to win. They need to, after the year they've had.

Breathe in. We have to win.

Breathe out. I can't have let them down.

Blaine ignores the continued murmurs backstage, the echoes of the choir currently performing; he leans against the wall and just breathes.

Text message from Blaine:

And now we wait

-*-*-*-

“That's it. I've had enough of your mopin' and –”

“Burt!” Carole's words are sharp, if slightly hushed, and Blaine shifts in his chair, glances to his left to see them standing by the door.

“What?” Burt raises a hand and runs it over his hat before looking away, meeting Blaine's surprised eyes before facing the rest of the room. “I mean it. So you got second place,” Burt pauses and Blaine sees that all the New Directions have raised their heads, giving Burt their attention, “it's not the end of the world. You kids are young, you're in L.A., and you're supposed to be enjoying the city.”

No one spoke.

“Alright,” Burt offers a smile before taking Carole's hand, moving to stand in the doorway. “Carole and I are goin' to look at the sights, and since you have to stay with us, you're all comin' too.”

Blaine looked around the room, taking in the still-motionless New Directions before looking back to Burt and Carole. Burt raises his brows when Blaine meets his gaze, and Blaine feels his lips twitch.

“Can't we stay here, Mr. Hummel?” Blaine turns to face Tina after she asks her question, sees Sam and Unique nodding in agreement beside her.

“Nope,” Burt's response stays casual, but there's a firmness to it that has Blaine rising from his seat, moving to cross the room – despite his disheartened mood – as Burt continues, “We're gonna go explore the sites and be tourists.”

Blaine nods as the rest of the New Directions groan even as they stand, slowly gathering jackets and purses and murmurings of we didn't win anddoesn't he know we need time to think and think we can sneak away filtering through the room.

“I know Burt's just trying to make us feel better,” Sam whispers as he wraps an arm around Blaine's shoulder, “but you'd think he'd get that we don't want to go anywhere.”

“No,” Blaine agrees, keeping his voice down, “but we don't have a choice. And maybe it will be good to get out for a while.”

“Maybe. We can – oh!” Blaine looks up at Sam's exclamation, sees his friend grinning, the opposite of how he appeared just moments before. “Dude! We're in L.A.! There's gotta be movie stars everywhere. I can get their signatures! And there's agents too – don't worry though,” Sam says around a smile, “if I get discovered I won't forget you!”

Blaine shakes his head, huffing a laugh at Sam's enthusiasm as he follows him – and the rest of the New Directions – out of the room. He keeps the slight smile on his face, reminds himself of the fact that he's Los Angeles.

He's sight-seeing in the City of Angels.

But we didn't win.

-*-*-*-

“Whoa! You okay?” Burt looks up at Sam's shout, sees him pulling Blaine further along the sidewalk as the line of cars drive past. He can't hear Blaine's reply – too much distance – but he frowns as he takes in Blaine's pale appearance, the way he's blindly following Sam's lead. Burt narrows his eyes, subtly moving so he's closer to them in the crowd.

“– fine, really.”

“Dude!” Burt winces at Sam's shout, “You froze! And I had to call your name three times before you even looked up – and that was after you almost walked into traffic.”

Burt sees Blaine give a half-hearted shrug even as he keeps his head down. He can't make out Blaine's reply, but it makes Sam shake his head with a huff before he excitedly waves to a tour bus across the street. Tina joins the boys moments later, and Burt starts to smile when she and Sam start an impromptu performance of Walking on Sunshine – only for the smile to fall, stilted, when he sees Blaine keep to the edges rather than joining in.

They arrive back at the hotel minutes later and Burt joins Carole for a quick head-count. Once everyone is accounted for Burt moves to where Blaine's leaning against the wall, eyes shut, breathing a bit too evenly to be natural.

“Blaine.” Blaine jerks away from the wall, eyes snapping open even as Burt internally winces at having surprised him. “Sorry. You ready to head up?”

There's a pause for a moment and Burt watches Blaine move away from wall, taking a breath before mumbling his next words. “– going to lie down.”

“Here,” Burt digs through his wallet and passes his hotel key to a confused Blaine, “I overheard your roommates talkin' about some marathon – if you want sleep you can crash in our room for a while.”

“I –” Blaine stops, starts again, “Thanks, Mr. Hummel.”

“No problem,” Burt nods toward the elevator, “Go rest; we'll be up in a while.”

A shaky smile and nod and then Blaine's gone, heading to the elevators and unaware of Burt's lingering concern.

“Mr. Hummel!” Burt turns at Marley's shout, sees her standing between a glaring Jake and Ryder.

Burt starts to cross the room even as he lets out a sigh – so much for his relaxing afternoon.

-*-*-*-

Blaine retreats to the back wall of the elevator after he presses the button for the fourth floor, glad for the slight chill from the metal. Surprisingly, the walk Burt had suggested had lightened his mood – it had taken almost an hour, but it really was impossible to stay upset when faced with the Walk of Fame. Now, however, away from the distractions of bright lights and famous landmarks it's harder to focus on the positive. Blaine forces his breathing to remain steady as he watches the numbers rise, hurrying forward – despite being the only occupant – when the doors open to his floor.

He enters Burt and Carole's silent room moments later, taking in the sight of familiar suit cases and a few discarded shirts – evidence of Carole's unease? – on one of the beds.

He's in the middle of re-hanging the shirts when it hits him: He ran again.

He lied and ran again.

He just needed space – he needed to think, to not be surrounded by curious friends and so he claimed rest. But he didn't need to sleep; he couldn't. But, he had run away.

Blaine's hands tighten in anger. He had been fine. He had been taking in the sights, attempting to take Burt's advice. He remembers Sam laughing at a hideously dressed mannequin as they waited at the crosswalk, remembers starting to walk and then he'd seen it, two cars back from the light. It wasn't the same car – it couldn't be the same car, but there it was: a white Taurus, with Robin Thicke blaring from it despite its rolled up windows.

He doesn't remember freezing, but Sam's ‘you almost walked into traffic' comment won't leave his mind.

He froze because of a car.

Breathe in. It couldn't be the same car.

Breathe out. It can't be.

Breathe in. It was a tourist.

Breathe out. There's no reason for any of them to be in L.A.

Blaine jumps when he hears a rattle, sees the hangar hitting the closet doorframe due to his shaking hands. He carefully hangs the shirt in the closet before stepping back, moving to lean against the closet door.

His hands are still shaking.

He froze earlier because of a car.

A car he saw while in Los Angeles.

He's in California.

He's in California, but there was a white Taurus –

“Sadie Hawkins isn't for gays!”

“Be a man, Anderson!”

Pain surrounds him, keeps him pinned as effectively as the arms earlier. There's a roar of sound then, green and white flashes speeding away, but his breath won't come and –

And he can't breathe.

The world is tilting, shifting through blurred vision.

He's in California.

They can't be here.

He's in California and he can't breathe.

-*-*-*-

“I know they're good kids, but if I have to tell them ‘lights out' one more time I'm takin' their trophy.”

Beside him, Carole laughs quietly as they continue down the hall toward their room. “You'd never do that, Burt.”

Burt reaches up to adjust his hat before offering Carole a smile. “Nah, but I can still think it.”

Carole hums in response as they arrive at the door, offers him a raised brow when he doesn't move forward. “Too tired for chivalry?”

“Oh,” Burt shrugs, “Blaine's got my key; kid needed a break earlier and his roommates were havin' some movie marathon.”

“I hope he was able to get some rest,” Carole adds as she fishes the keycard from her purse, triumphantly waving it in front of Burt once she has it in hand. “It's been a long day.”

The keycard slides in easily and Burt feels some of the tension in his shoulders drop as the light changes to green.

The door opens and Burt follows Carole into the dim room, staying quiet in the hope that the lack of lighting means Blaine got his nap. Still, he reaches for the bedside lamp as soon as he's close enough; hotels may follow the same basic setup, but he doesn't relish the thought of stumbling around.  He hears the gasp as the pale light floods the room, and he blinks while suppressing a sigh: he'd hoped Blaine would be spared nightmares.

“Burt!” He turns at Carole's shout, follows her gaze from where she's turned away from the bed – her purse and its contents scattered across the bedspread – and it's only as he takes in the sight that he registers that both beds are empty.

Blaine's on the floor, knees against his chest, gasping in uneven, shaky breaths.

Burt crosses the room in wide steps, suppressing a wince as he kneels on the floor, a flash of pain jarring his knees. Absently, he notes Carole standing beside him, her shadow covering Blaine's downturned face.

“Hey, kid.” Burt reaches out, but his hand stops inches from Blaine's shoulder – for once, he's not sure if a hug would be beneficial.

Blaine hasn't reacted to Burt's words; if not for the harsh gasps – how had he missed those before? – he'd be a statue, frozen against the closet door.

“Blaine? Sweetie?” Burt's unease grows when nothing changes.

“Blaine?” Burt forces the anxious worry away, focuses on the still unmoving teen before continuing, “You with us?”

No change.

“Blaine,” Carole's kneeling now, eye-level with Blaine (if his head were raised) and Burt meets her concerned gaze before she turns back, “Blaine, you have to calm down, okay? You have to breathe.” Burt hears Carole take a breath, watches as she pauses before hesitantly placing a hand on Blaine's shoulder.

Blaine jerks at the touch, his head barely missing a painful crash with the door, and his panicked eyes dart around the room.

“It's okay,” Burt marvels at the steadiness of Carole's voice, watches as Blaine turns to face her. “Just breathe with me, okay? Just breathe. You have to calm down, Blaine. Deep breaths. Breathe with me.”

Burt watches as Blaine's eyes dart around some more before meeting – if not focusing – on him. He knows Blaine is trying, sees the struggle even as his uneven breaths continue to fill the room.

It isn't working.

Burt had hoped to never feel as hopeless as he had after Kurt's mother passed, after getting the phone call about Finn.

As Blaine continues to struggle to breathe, unable to talk, Burt feels the echoes of that pain returning.

“Blaine,” the blank gaze that meets his isn't one he's used to, but he forces himself to keep it. “Blaine, kid, you have to calm down for us. I know you're tryin' – I can see that, but it's not enough.”

Stilted, gasping breaths are the only reply.

“He needs something to focus on,” Burt turns to face Carole at her words, feels his face twist in confusion.

“What?”

“A bag, something –” Carole cuts herself off, looking away from Blaine for a moment to nod toward the rest of the room, “he needs help to breathe.”

Burt shakes his head before Carole's finishes speaking, keeping his surprise that breathing into a bag isn't just for movies to himself. “The only bags we got are our suitcases…”

“Right,” Carole turns back to Blaine, moves so she's directly in front of him. “Blaine, look at me – good – Blaine, you have to breathe with me, okay? Here,” Burt watches as she puts her left hand on her chest before reaching for Blaine's right, moving it so it rests with hers, rising and falling with her breaths. “Follow me, okay? Look at your hand, and count with me.”

Slowly, with Carole's direction for several too-long, too-tense minutes (and right before Burt's about to suggest a trip to the hospital) the gasps fade. But Blaine stays two shades pale of normal, and while his breaths are now even, they're still too rushed and labored for Burt to feel comfortable.

“How about we get off this floor, hm?”

Blaine shakily nods at Carole's question, and Burt quickly – if gently – steadies Blaine's arm, guiding him to the nearest bed once he's standing.

There's a hint of sound as Blaine sits and Burt makes sure to meet his gaze, “What was that, Blaine?”

“ ‘m – sorry –”

“Just keep breathing, Blaine.” Burt watches as Blaine briefly looks up at Carole's comment before quickly dropping his gaze, focusing on the floral comforter instead.

“She's right.” Blaine's breaths seem to echo in the ensuing silence, and Burt hastens to fill it. “You just keep breathing, kid.”

And Blaine does – loud, harsh breaths, but even enough for Burt to feel some of the tension easing from his shoulders. He looks up, meeting Carole's concerned gaze. She looks to the door before glancing to her phone, and Burt nods in acceptance; she gives Blaine a careful squeeze on the shoulder before stepping back and exiting the room.

Burt slowly stands too, moving to sit next to Blaine on the bed.

Blaine doesn't react, stays hunched against the headboard. Burt studies his profile, marveling at how small Blaine looks. Burt's seen him after his reaction in the shop, when he crumbled cookies and faked smiles; he's seen him shaking in his car, bruises in stark relief against his skin, frightened and confused as his world turned inside out; and yet even then Blaine had managed a half-hearted smile.

Now, Blaine stays eerily still, knees drawn up and head lowered, hiding his slightly glazed eyes. 

For the first time since Blaine dropped the bucket in the shop, Burt is unsure of what to do next.

Still, he needs to cover the sound of Blaine's too-quick breaths, the slight buzz from the lamps. So, he talks. He talks about Kurt, about childhood tea parties and acted out musicals, about blanket forts to hide from the world, and surprise cupcakes to assuage grief.

Burt's just moved to more recent years, to Blaine's introduction and acceptance in the family, when there's a click and the sound of the door opening. He looks up and gives Carole a small smile, taking in the absence of her phone, but the small bag clutched in her hand.

Burt carefully rises from the bed, moves to stand by Carole near the entrance to the room.

“Shopping?”

Carole offers him a dry look before raising the bag so he can take in the pharmacy logo. “I called Dr. Schamp.”

Burt raises his eyes, does some quick mental math. “She answered this late on a Saturday?”

“Emergency line.” Carole drops her voice, shifts her gaze to where Blaine's still huddled on the bed. “I explained what happened and she shared her assessment,” she nods toward the bag, “low dose Ativan, at least until we get back.”

Burt sighs. “I know he was hopin' to avoid meds.”

Carole's gaze hardens a bit. “There's nothing wrong with taking medication to help. And Blaine's getting help, whether he wants it or not.”

She's walking across the room to Blaine before Burt manages a reply.

“– need you to takes this, okay?” Burt catches the end of Carole's question as he exits the bathroom, paper cup of water in hand. Slowly, Blaine looks up, a hint of confusion on his face even as a shaky hand reaches for the small pill in Carole's.

“You'll probably feel tired after this,” Carole explains as Blaine carefully sets the pill under his tongue before taking the cup from Burt, “but Dr. Schamp felt it would help. You have an appointment on Monday, too, so if this dose doesn't help enough we can fix it then, okay?”

Burt thinks Blaine nods, but he can't be certain. Regardless, minutes later Blaine's breathing finally, finally calms to something almost normal. Slowly, his knees unbend too, and Carole removes his shoes while Burt hands him a soft, worn t-shirt – an old Hummel Tires that definitely belongs to Kurt – to replace the colorful polo.

Blaine's asleep before Carole finishes fussing with the blankets.

“Did he say anything?”

Burt turns at Carole's question even as he shakes his head. “No. First time he moved was when you gave him that pill.”

“Mm.” Carole hums in response. “I didn't think he would, but –” Carole stops, reaches for Burt's hand, “I'd hoped we had a hint to what caused it.”

Possibilities echo in Burt's mind, but he only nods in response; they can't know for certain until Blaine tells them – if he does.  Burt shakes his head. “Wish he had, but the only one talkin' was me.”

“Well, you still helped. I know –”

A buzzing interrupts Carole's comment.

Burt automatically reaches for his phone, sees Carole doing the same, only to stop when he sees his phone is blank. A quick glance and he sees Carole's is the same: dark. Carole's standing moments later, crossing the room before bending in front of the closet door.

Blaine's phone.

“They're from Kurt,” Carole comments, showing the lock screen and its ‘6 new text messages from Kurt' “but I can't read them. It's locked.”

Wordlessly, Burt holds out his hand.

“I may have glanced over when we were watching the game,” he explains in response to Carole's raised brows, “it's not like he was tryin' to hide anything. Besides,” he hastens to explain, “I figured it was better to know, with everything.”

A chime, and the screen clears.

Text message from Kurt:

Good luck!

Text message from Kurt:

I love you! <3

Text message from Kurt:

I know you're performing, but remember that I expect a detailed report later – dad's recording can't give me the full performance ;-)

Text message from Kurt:

I need a report soon, mister. Somehow I got the boring tables today.

Text message from Kurt:

Send me some of your good will (I'm guessing you're out celebrating) – we perform in twenty minutes!!!!

Text message from Kurt:

[photo] We have an audience!

Burt sighs, noting that the last message was over an hour ago – Kurt's probably on stage now – and looks up, meeting Carole's gaze.

“I need to call him.”

“Mm,” Carole agrees, taking the phone from his hand and glancing over to where Blaine's sleeping, “it's probably good that he's asleep, then. It gives Kurt time to process.”

“Us, too.” Burt reaches up, runs restless hands over his cap, “I don't know what to tell him – we still don't know exactly what happened.”

“You can tell him as much as you know; it's better than nothing.”

“He's gonna want to fly out here.”

“Of course he is,” Carole's agreement has Burt looking up, “he loves him.”

“Isn't high school love supposed to be charming and cute?”

“You never thought of Kurt and Blaine like that – don't lie, Burt Hummel.”

Burt offers a weak smile, “No. But I didn't want this, either.” They're still just kids. Kids who've had to deal with too much – he wishes they could bask in their youth a little longer.

“No one did,” Carole comments, interrupting his thoughts. She looks over to the bed again, “But that's life. And –” a breath before she continues, “our children grow up. We can't protect them from the world.” She moves then, crossing to set Blaine's phone on the nightstand. “We can't hide them away, but we can fight for them, give them what they need before they leave.”

Burt pulls Carole into a careful hug, ignoring her suspiciously bright eyes. He holds her in the quiet room, wishes he was the hero Kurt believed him to be as a child: but there's no ‘bad guy' to battle, no quick fix to save the day.

He eyes Blaine, his chest rising and falling in medicated sleep, and offers Carole one last squeeze before stepping back.

He needs to call his son.

-*-*-*-

“– asking for another performance next week! We killed it!”

Kurt feels his smile – which he thought was already as wide as possible – grow even more, his cheeks aching with the strain in response to Elliott's comment.

“You mean I killed it with my guitar solo,” Dani replies, scooting closer to Santana so Elliott can take a seat and pass around the waters in his hands.

“You keep thinkin' that, Dani,” Elliott adds a wink to the comment, taking out any possible sting even as Santana shoots him a half-hearted glare.

“I think,” Kurt interrupts, preempting any argument, “that we should just be happy that the audience enjoyed –”

“Here,” Santana interrupts Kurt's comment, holding out his bag. “Take this. If I wanted a sex toy right now Dani and I'd already be gone.”

For a moment, Kurt's lost for words. “What?”

“Your phone,” Santana adds in a dry tone, waving the bag slightly, “it's been adding some vibrations to our seating and I'm not in the mood.”

Kurt takes the bag, ignoring Santana's mumblings about clingy couples. He digs through its contents, smiling when he finally produces his phone.

His smile falls when he sees the ‘5 missed calls from Dad' and ‘1 text message from Carole' on the lock screen.

He's out of the booth moments later, ignoring Dani and Elliott's calls and pushing his way through the crowd. Outside, leaning against the wall with the din of customers behind him, he dials.

His dad answers on the second ring, and Kurt presses the phone harder against his ear, ignores the strain on his hand as he listens.

New York is the city that never sleeps, a bustling city of movement, but Kurt can't move, stays silent and still under the streetlamps.