Two and a half weeks after being attacked in the Westerville Starbucks parking lot, Blaine was discharged from the hospital. Reporters from several news stations and newspapers were waiting outside of Westerville Memorial when the Andersons wheeled Blaine out, but Charles and Cooper flanked him, doing their best to protect him from the overzealous journalists and answering "No comment" to every question thrown their way as Maria pushed him to their waiting car.

Once they arrived home, they settled Blaine into his bedroom and, after that, fell into something of a rhythm. Charles and Maria alternated days working from home so one of them was always around, and Cooper remained a constant presence. Blaine had physical therapy scheduled three days a week and a weekly meeting set up with Dr. Jeffreys, the therapist he'd seen for a few months after Sadie Hawkins.

Sebastian came over most nights after Warbler rehearsal and stayed for a few hours before heading back to Dalton. While one or two of the other Warblers would sometimes join him, they were more likely to show up for a few hours on the weekend. Blaine's parents were taken with Sebastian and regularly invited him to stay for dinner despite Cooper's glowering; while Blaine's parents didn't know about Sebastian's involvement in his eye injury, Cooper did-but Blaine had pleaded with him not to tell since he and Sebastian had mended fences.

Sam and Tina showed up on Fridays with piles of homework and usually stayed through the weekend; before leaving the hospital, Blaine had contacted Ms. Pillsbury-Schuester about getting his work each week so he'd still be able graduate on time-he was going to spending a lot of time in bed anyway, so he might as well do something productive. During the weekends he was more likely to see other members of New Directions as well, since they had time to make the drive to Westerville.

And then there was Kurt.

Kurt was at his side as often as Blaine's parents tolerated his presence; even when they'd been dating, the Andersons hadn't been Kurt's biggest fans, but now whichever parent was home would usually suggest that Kurt probably needed to get home shortly before dinner time. Kurt took the coolness in stride, and though it frustrated Blaine that Kurt should have to put up with it at all, he supposed it ended up being for the best since Sebastian usually arrived not long after Kurt departed.

But when Kurt was there, he tried to be whatever Blaine needed, whether it was a sounding board or a study partner, a quiet presence or someone to hold him and keep him grounded when he felt like he might float away. Kurt was putting a lot of miles on his car, traveling between Lima and Westerville every other day, but he never complained about the gas.

This... thing between him and Kurt was still fragile and new; Kurt had made his feelings known at the hospital, but Blaine had yet to respond either way. Truthfully, he still wasn't sure what he wanted. Even just a few months before, Kurt wanting to get back together seemed nothing more than a pipe dream-one Blaine had wanted desperately.

But his friends had helped him begin moving on; he made peace with his mistakes and forgave himself. Between glee, student council, the superhero club, and his friends, he'd been happier just before the attack than he could remember being in a long time. So, for the time being, he was content to fall back into just being best friends-without personal bubbles, apparently-with Kurt, and the other boy wasn't pushing for more.

Since Thanksgiving, they'd just seemed to be orbiting each other-a constant push and pull keeping one from falling into the other's gravitational pull. Blaine supposed something would have to give eventually, but for now he had more than enough other things on his mind to worry about a relationship.

And so, time moved on.

-----

Five days after leaving the hospital, Blaine was dozing in bed, half-propped up by a stack of pillows and his laptop and an open textbook next to him, when his phone beeped. He started fully awake as Kurt looked up from the issue of Vogue he was reading next to him. Blaine reached for his phone, and his chest tightened momentarily at the reminder he'd forgotten to delete from his calendar.

"Blaine?" Kurt asked, putting the magazine down with a frown. "What is it?"

Blaine turned off the alarm and dropped his phone onto the mattress. "Today was supposed to be my NYADA audition."

Kurt's concerned expression softened, and he gently pulled Blaine into his arms, careful to avoid jarring his healing ribs. "Oh sweetie."

Blaine bit his lip. He'd been in touch with NYADA and they'd offered him the opportunity to audition again for the spring semester without having to reapply due to his extenuating circumstances, but he hadn't made a decision. He hadn't told Kurt yet either, unsure of how to bring up the fact that he might not want to go to one of the best performing arts schools in the country after all.

But there were acceptance letters sitting on his desk from OSU, UCLA, Berklee, and Tisch. He'd been surprised to find the pile of unopened letters waiting for him when he got home the previous week, but his family had just smiled proudly.

It had occurred to him partway through the application process as he'd worked through both his applications and the breakup with Ms. Pillsbury that he'd fallen into the same patterns of trying to please everyone else-OSU for his parents, UCLA for Cooper, even NYADA for Kurt-which had led him to apply to a couple of schools solely for himself. Whatever choice he made, he'd decided as he looked through the letters his first night home, would be for himself and no one else. Surviving a (second) hate crime and spending two and a half weeks in the hospital had a way of bringing certain things into perspective.

It also hadn't been until he'd seen the letters-had been reminded that life had gone on outside of the hospital-that he'd remembered the audition. It had hurt like a physical blow to realize he couldn't do it. He knew Kurt thought he was upset because NYADA was his first choice, but really, he lamented what the missed audition meant.

He was barely moving around under his own power on crutches-just going down the hall to and from the bathroom left him exhausted and shaky-and his knee was constantly throbbing no matter how many painkillers he took. His headaches were still frequent and sitting up without support for than more than a few minutes strained his ribs.

The longer he was laid up, the more frustrated he became with how helpless he was. And while he knew they meant well, his family, and even Kurt and Sebastian to a degree, were hovering when what Blaine wanted was some space to breathe. He'd become so accustomed to dealing with his problems on his own that having so many people constantly around was downright stifling.

And, worst of all, he'd lost the outlets of stress relief that he relied upon.

He'd taken up boxing after Sadie Hawkins as a means of self-defense and had ended up finding it cathartic. Whenever things became too much, he spent quality time with the heavy bag, letting anger and pain seep out through his fists until he could barely lift his arms.

And when he couldn't box, like after his eye injury, he'd also had music. He could express his feelings through song far more easily than through words, whether it was taking the stage in the auditorium at school or plunking at the keys of the piano in the library at home. Music helped him work through whatever he was feeling, giving voice to otherwise abstract emotions simmering just below the surface.

But now Blaine had neither. Though he'd begun physical therapy, it would be a long time before he was able to get back into boxing. And with his ribs, Blaine couldn't take deep enough breaths to sing, not to mention that with one arm in a cast and the other hand splinted, he couldn't even play the piano. Without those outlets, Blaine was left feeling constantly raw, like an exposed nerve.

Blaine swallowed hard at the sudden comprehension of just how much Roy, Nick, and Eric had taken from him, tears springing to his eyes.

Kurt must've recognized the shift in emotion because he tightened his grip around Blaine protectively. "Hey, it's okay.  You'll get to audition in a few months, and all this will just have been a speed bump."

Blaine shut his eyes, a lump forming in the back of his throat. He wanted to tell Kurt what he was really upset about, but there were simply no words to encompass the feeling of losing his voice, even if it was just temporarily.

And wasn't that exactly the problem? It was all rather circular.

So he just nodded and let himself sink into Kurt's embrace, wishing those arms felt as safe now as they once had.

-----

Some nights, Blaine dreamed of being cornered in a parking lot, only it was the Warblers surrounding him. They descended upon him, swinging bats and tire irons, and Blaine bled out red slushie as he screamed.

Other nights, he dreamed of opening his front door only to find Kurt there. "Surprise!" he would say nervously before morphing into Sebastian, who hummed "I Want You Back" under his breath as he crossed the threshold into Blaine's house.

The best nights were the ones when Blaine didn't dream at all.

-----

Ten days after Blaine had come home, Sebastian knocked on the open door before stepping into the now-familiar bedroom. Blaine, who was propped up against his headboard, looked up from his laptop and pulled an earbud from his ear with a smile.

"Hey," he greeted.

Sebastian nodded in return, moving to sit in the chair next to Blaine's bed. "I ran into Hummel on the way in," he said as he pulled his satchel over his shoulders and dropped it on the floor. "He was his usual friendly self."

Blaine shook his head in exasperation. "And I'm sure you were perfectly civil as always."

Sebastian gasped in faux indignation and clasped at his chest. "Mr. Anderson, you wound me."

Blaine snorted. "I'm sure." He sighed. "You know you're both important to me-"

"Which is why neither of us has resorted to homicide," Sebastian replied easily. Blaine gave him an unimpressed look, but Sebastian just shrugged. "Don't look like you don't think he's capable of it."

"I think there's been enough bloodshed," Blaine said quietly.

Shit. Sebastian knew that tone-the one that said Blaine was slipping back somewhere darker. He cleared his throat and nodded at Blaine's laptop for a distraction. "So what are you up to?"

Blaine blinked and looked down at the screen before turning the computer so Sebastian could see it.

"You're composing music?" Sebastian asked in surprise when he saw the program and lines of notes on the screen. Whatever he'd been expecting, that hadn't been it.

Blaine nodded a bit self-consciously. "It was my therapist's idea. I needed an outlet, and I usually box or sing but, well," he trailed off, glancing down at himself. "Those aren't really options right now. But," he said with a shrug, "music's always helped me voice what I was feeling, I guess."

Sebastian remembered the day Blaine had returned to Dalton all those months ago, run down and depressed after the break up, and how he'd embodied "Dark Side" when he'd sung with the Warblers. He'd been visibly shaken after, like he'd been laid bare sharing those emotions with others, and the image had stuck with Sebastian long after. Sebastian loved music, but it had never had that deep resonance with him the way it seemed to for someone like Blaine, and he couldn't help but admire that.

"I started just working on arrangements," Blaine went on, pulling Sebastian from his reverie. "Since I was used to doing that with the Warblers. But..."

"You're composing original songs?" Sebastian asked, impressed. Blaine nodded. "Can I hear one?"

Blaine hesitated but finally nodded. "Okay. Just... it's still rough. And it doesn't have any lyrics yet."

Sebastian nodded impatiently, and Blaine handed him an earbud. He scooted closer to the bed and put the bud in, and Blaine hit play. It was a piano number that started slow, almost contemplative, before taking a more upbeat turn. But the upbeat was short-lived as the notes turned almost shrill for several bars. And then it shifted once more, taking a haunting, almost mournful, turn before building back to the more upbeat. The shrill bars made a return before the song closed out in a reprise of the more contemplative notes, bookending the piece.

It was raw in a way that took Sebastian aback. Blaine had always seemed like the king of Top 40, but there was something more, something deeper and darker, here. When it was done, Sebastian pulled out the earpiece and looked at Blaine, who was biting his lip.

"Like I said, it's not done. But I just hear it, you know?"

"You know," he started as he puzzled through what he'd heard, trying to work out what sounded off to hom. "I think you've got several songs in there. Not just one. It's like..." he trailed off, searching for the right words, "a story," he decided. And then it hit him. "It's your story."

Blaine's eyes widened and he looked back at the screen, eyes scanning over the notes. "You're right," he breathed.

Sebastian couldn't help the smirk playing at his lips; Blaine never ceased to amaze him.

"Blaine, you're not composing a song. You're composing an album."

-----

A month after Blaine was released from the hospital, Kurt arrived at the Anderson house. Cooper let him in, informing him that both of his parents were at work for the first time since Blaine had gotten home. Considering the effort they'd made for at least one of them to stay at Blaine's side, that had to be a good sign.

"I'm just going to go for coffee," Cooper said with a wink. "And maybe a movie. Hell, maybe I'll make it a double feature."

"Cooper," Kurt said, causing the other man to pause as he pulled on a light jacket from the hall closet. "Why are you being so nice to me?" he asked. It was something he'd been wondering for a while now, especially with his barely concealed dislike of Sebastian.

Cooper raised an eyebrow as he finished pulling his jacket on. "Because you care about my brother," he said at last. "And he loves you."

Kurt frowned. "Sebastian cares about him. And Blaine, for some inexplicable reason, likes him too."

"Sebastian hurt Blaine."

"So did I," Kurt pointed out. "Well," he amended, "we hurt each other, I guess. But still. You have every reason to not want me near him."

Cooper gave him a considering look. "I won't lie and say that I wasn't mad at you for a long time, Kurt. Blaine and I talked a lot after you left for New York. He wasn't handling it well."

Kurt bit his lip. He'd known as much, but hearing it from an outside party still stung. "Neither of us did, I think."

Cooper nodded. "Blaine isn't the best at dealing with his emotions. It's an Anderson trait, I think," he added wryly. "And I know he made a bad choice that hurt you. Both of you. But Blaine's my brother. Even when I don't agree with him, I'm still going to be Team Blaine."

Kurt nodded with a weak smile. "I'd expect nothing less."

"Honestly Kurt, if this had been a few months ago, I probably wouldn't want you near my bother. But he's..." Cooper looked up at the ceiling as though it had the words he was searching for. "He's grown. A lot," he decided at last, looking back at Kurt. "He's not the same guy you left behind in the fall."

"I know."

Kurt had noticed the subtle changes in their brief conversations and heard about more second-hand from Finn and some of the other New Directions, but it wasn't until he'd seen Blaine that he'd understood those changes. And in the last week few weeks, Kurt had started seeing that boy peeking through again during his visits. His weekly therapy visits seemed to be doing a lot of good as he healed.

Cooper nodded as though Kurt had just confirmed something for him. "Blaine wants you here. And I think he finally trusts himself again, so I'm trusting him."

"He's lucky to have you," Kurt told him honestly. Cooper really had done a complete 180 since the previous spring.

Cooper flashed him a grateful smile. "He's in the library," he said before heading out the door.

Blaine had become much more mobile in the previous weeks, thanks to his physical therapy. Blaine was as likely to be in the living room or library downstairs as he was his bedroom when Kurt visited. The first time Kurt had come over and Blaine had answered the door with a huge grin on his face, Kurt thought he was dreaming. But there he'd been-and it had been a much better greeting than the wary, guarded one he'd received all those weeks ago when he'd first arrived. Blaine was off the crutches, and though he still limped when he became fatigued and walked more slowly, he was moving.

Kurt pulled off his jacket, hung it up in the closet, and slipped his shoes off before heading down the hall. When he reached the library-a decent-sized room with bookcases lining the walls, a fireplace, a few couches and tables, and (Blaine's pride and joy) a Steinway he'd inherited from his grandfather when he was in middle school-he stopped short in the open doorway. Blaine was sitting at the piano, fingers running over the keys, and Kurt's breath caught in his throat.

Blaine must've heard him because he stopped playing-a soft, somehow familiar melody hanging on the air-and turned. His eyes lit up when he saw his guest.

"Kurt, hi."

Kurt swallowed. "Hi yourself." Blaine was sitting upright on the piano bench without any support. His arm no longer had a cast on it and his fingers weren't splinted. "You look great," he breathed.

Blaine's eyes crinkled up as he smiled and waved his cast-free arm. "Got it off yesterday. The doctor said my ribs are pretty much healed, too." He turned so he was straddling the piano bench to face Kurt. "I'm still getting headaches, but they said they should be gone soon. My knee is a lot better, too." He hesitated. "I'm going back to school next week."

Kurt's eyes widened. "Blaine, that's amazing."

Blaine smiled again, the look softer this time, and Kurt's stomach swooped. But he forced the feeling aside; he wasn't going to push Blaine into anything-not until Blaine was ready. But maybe... Maybe that time was coming soon, he thought as he looked Blaine over. The boy sitting in front of him, lively and grinning, was nearly unrecognizable as the one Kurt had sat vigil over in the hospital.

"So, what were you playing?" Kurt asked for a change of subject as he stepped into the room.

"Oh." Blaine's expression shut down. "Just an arrangement."

Kurt didn't like that look. What could he possibly be playing that he wouldn't want Kurt to hear? He loved listening to Blaine play, no matter what it was. He knew Blaine was composing some original music, but he'd already heard some of it despite Blaine's hesitance to share rough cuts.

"Blaine, what is it? What's wrong?"

They'd agreed they were going to be honest with each again-communication failure had been a huge reason they'd broken up in the first place. But if they couldn't even be honest when they were just friends, what chance did they have of making their relationship work a second time around?

Blaine pursed his lips and searched Kurt's face for a long moment before sighing. "‘Teenage Dream,'" he said. "I was playing ‘Teenage Dream.'"

Kurt's insides twisted, sour memories threatening to surface at the unexpected reminder. And now that he thought about it, he did recognize the melody-it was different from both the version the Warblers sang the day they'd met and the one Blaine had sung at Callbacks, but it was still familiar.

"I just," Blaine tried to explain, "I don't want that song only to have bitter memories. For either of us. So I've been working on a different arrangement."

Kurt blinked a couple of times. "Why? Why now?"

Blaine shrugged uncomfortably "It was just something one of the guys said this weekend."

"New Directions?"

"Warbler."

This time, Kurt felt his own expression shut down. He knew the Warblers were visiting Blaine on weekends-there was a reason he only came during the week, aside from only having to hide from one of Blaine's parents then. Hell, he'd run into Sebastian more than once when the other boy had been on his way in to see Blaine while Kurt was leaving.

He knew it was going on, the same way he knew Sam, Tina, and the New Directions were also visiting on the weekends. But there was just something about the idea that Blaine was talking to the Warblers about him after everything they'd done-and hadn't apologized for-that had Kurt on edge. The Warblers had been a sore spot for him since the slushie incident, and seeing them regularly at the hospital had reopened the wound.

"And what could a Warbler possibly have to say to get you to rearrange our song?" he asked coolly.

"Kurt, it wasn't-" Blaine cut himself off, looking at Kurt in surprise. "Are you mad?"

"No Blaine," Kurt replied sarcastically. "What possible reason could I have for being upset that you're spending more time with people who hurt you and abandoned you than with-" The love of your life. Your boyfriend. There were a lot of things Kurt wanted to say there, though he didn't have the right. "Your best friend," he settled on.

Blaine frowned like he was trying to figure out where this conversation had gone wrong. And for some reason, that irritated Kurt further; he had no idea where all this anger was coming from, but now that the dam had broken, he couldn't stop. And he didn't want to either.

"Kurt," Blaine said slowly, "the Warblers reached out to me after Regionals and apologized. I let that go months ago."

"Even Sebastian," Kurt added bitterly. "He's always here."

"Yes, even Sebastian," Blaine replied, brows furrowing. "I told you, he's been a good friend to me since I almost transferred back to Dalton."

"Good friend," Kurt snorted. "Right."

Blaine shook his head, looking lost. "What is this about?"

Kurt's eyes narrowed. "Oh nothing. It's great that the Warblers apologized and now you're all best buds again and talking about our relationship." Or lack thereof.

"Kurt, we weren't-"

"But that slushie wasn't even aimed at you, Blaine!"

Blaine's mouth snapped shut and Kurt plowed on; now that he'd started, he was going to say what he'd been sitting on for months. Honesty, right?

"It was aimed at me. I know you'll always be Dalton's golden boy, even when you're at McKinley, but I was a Warbler too. Those guys were my friends, too. At least I thought so. But they meant to hit me with that slushie. And they never once apologized for that." Kurt shook his head. "But you forgave them anyway. You let Sebastian back into your life even after what he did to me. I know you had it worse with surgery, but no one ever thought about how I felt."

Blaine's mouth moved as Kurt's tirade ended. "I had no idea-"

"And that's exactly the problem!" Kurt retorted. He realized he was shaking, so he crossed his arms across his chest.

"Kurt, I'm sorry," Blaine said, making to stand from the piano bench, but Kurt took a step back and Blaine sat back down with a sigh. "If I'd known..."

"What?" Kurt demanded.

"I would've talked to them!" Blaine replied, eyes flashing. Kurt took a measure of satisfaction from that; Blaine was slow to anger, but he recognized the signals that said he was getting there. "I would've-"

"Made them apologize?" Kurt sneered. "No thanks, Blaine. I don't want a pity apology that they don't mean just so you'll feel better."

"So what do you want me to do, Kurt? Stop seeing them?" Blaine demanded. "Because that's not going to happen. They're still my friends."

Kurt huffed at that. "Right."

Blaine's eyes narrowed and something sharp flared up Kurt's spine at the look. "You don't have to like all my friends, Kurt. God knows I don't like all of yours."

Kurt raised an eyebrow in surprise. "Excuse me?"

"How do you think I felt when I found out that a bully who had threatened to kill you was stalking you, pretending to be me, over Valentine's? And when that same bully tried to-" Blaine choked on the next words, but shook his head. "How do you think I felt when you wouldn't talk to me after that and then went to see him in the hospital? Alone?"

Kurt's pursed his lips as he thought back to Karofsky. He'd felt so guilty and hurt after that he'd retreated into himself, not even talking to his dad. "I-"

Blaine shook his head. "But I didn't say anything because it was your choice to forgive him, Kurt. I never liked it, but I respected it."

"That's right," Kurt snapped defensively. "Blaine Anderson, always Mr. Respectful. Especially to other men."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"‘Respectful' of assholes who want to steal you from your boyfriend," Kurt scoffed. "And ‘respectful' enough of the first guy to come along after your boyfriend left to fuck him."

Blaine reeled back, eyes wide, as the color drained from his face. For a long moment, they just stared at each other, Blaine stricken and Kurt triumphant. And then Blaine pushed himself to his feet and moved toward the door.

"I can't do this right now."

"That's right, Blaine," Kurt said as Blaine brushed past him. "Run away. Just like you do from all your problems."

Blaine froze halfway across the room. "Screw you, Kurt," he said coldly.

"No, Blaine. We always said we'd be honest with each other, didn't we?" Kurt said. "And we were supposed to talk at Christmas, so I think we're long overdue for some Truth Time, don't you?"

Blaine turned to look at Kurt then, and Kurt was momentarily startled by his icy expression. Blaine's temper wasn't usually cold; it was fiery and fierce while Kurt's was frigid and biting. Kurt angered quickly and cut at whoever he was angry with while Blaine kept his feelings on lockdown until he was pushed too far. And, in his sudden anger, Kurt had wanted to push Blaine-and he'd pressed all the right buttons.

"You want Truth Time?" Blaine said softly. "Then why don't we talk about why I cheated on you."

Kurt recoiled, recognizing the danger there. But he'd gotten too far into this to back down now. "Enlighten me."

"You have no idea how lonely I was when you left, Kurt," Blaine said, squaring his shoulders to look Kurt in the eye. Blaine's gaze, while cold, was startlingly calm and sure; he'd made peace with his choices, Kurt realized.

"You had the New Directions," Kurt pointed out, though his voice was struggling to find any volume.

Blaine shook his head. "Not at first. I was really only friends with your friends. And they graduated. With you. I spent an entire year doing everything for you." There was no accusation in Blaine's voice, just a matter-of-fact recitation of events. "And I didn't even realize it until Sam and I won the student council election and you didn't pick up your phone when I called."

Kurt watched on, mouth agape, as Blaine didn't raise his voice, but there was something perilous under the cool words that made Kurt shiver.

"We kept missing phone calls and Skype dates," he said. "And when we did talk, every conversation was about New York."

"Why didn't you say anything?" Kurt breathed.

"I tried!" Blaine said, voice raising momentarily before he visibly collected himself. "But Rachel's makeover and fashion gossip were apparently more important than what was going on here." His gaze seemed to burrow right under Kurt's skin as he spoke. "I thought I was losing you. After all, what did your small town Ohio boyfriend have that New York didn't?"

Kurt's insides squirmed uncomfortably as he thought about the number of times he'd ignored Blaine's calls or canceled their Skype dates to go out with his Vogue coworkers.

"In a few months, you're going to be gone," Blaine had said nearly a year before. "With this brand-new life, these brand-new friends, this brand-new everything, and I'm going to be right here. By myself."

Oh.

"And yes. I made a terrible choice that I'll regret for the rest of my life. I was lonely and no one seemed to notice." Blaine shook his head. "And then this guy messaged me on Facebook. It was just harmless flirting at first. Because it felt nice to be seen again. So when he invited me to his place, I went."

Kurt felt his breaths shortening in panic. He didn't want to hear this. He didn't want to know...

"And the entire time," Blaine went on, not letting Kurt cut him off this time, "it felt wrong. But maybe part of me thought we had been over for a while and I was just making it official."

Kurt felt sick at the very idea.

"But after, I knew that what we had was real and that I'd just destroyed it. I went home and threw up until it felt like I was completely hollow and showered until my skin was raw." Blaine laughed without any humor. "And then I booked the first flight to New York."

Kurt's mouth had gone dry and his heart was aching, and yet somehow... Somehow it helped. Knowing. It had been so hard to try putting everything behind him without knowing why Blaine had betrayed him-betrayed them. He'd understood at some level that Blaine had been lonely, but he'd been too afraid to listen to him to find out that maybe it was partly his fault too; Kurt wasn't supposed to be to blame-he was the one who'd been cheated on.

"Blaine-" Kurt started as the anger drained from him, leaving him empty.

But Blaine shook his head and dropped his gaze. "I think you should go," he said quietly, his shoulders sagging.

"But-"

Blaine turned away. "I've got a headache, Kurt. Please."

Kurt's jaw trembled and only then did he realize that there were tears rolling down his face. "Okay," he whispered.

Blaine nodded and left the room without looking back. Kurt didn't manage to pull his feet from the library floor until he heard Blaine's bedroom door shut upstairs.