Chapter Four

The atmosphere at the meeting that night was an uneasy combination of awkwardness and depression. Blaine sat alone at a table near the back, his eyes fixed on his drink. He had never been much of a whisky drinker - it was too strong for him - but recently he had come to find the harsh burn to be a comfort. The way it made him wince in pain with every mouthful, the way it ran through him like a fiery river, the way it sat in his stomach like a hot brick; all of it had become as necessary to Blaine as breathing.

‘You should be careful. Last time I drank one too many,' he heard someone say. Blaine lifted his head up, seeing Jesse stood over him. Jesse was smiling, but it looked forced, like he was just putting it on. Blaine half-heartedly waved in greeting, unable to find the energy to speak. Jesse seemed to get the hint and sat down without a word, his smile sliding right off his face. They sat in silence for several minutes, both wanting to speak but neither sure what to say.

‘Hello boys!' came Brittany's chirpy voice from behind them. She had a glass of wine in one hand and Santana's clasped in the other. Santana nodded at Blaine and Jesse, her painted scarlet lips unsmiling. She was wearing a very ragged blue dress which looked far too small for her.

‘What's wrong?' Jesse asked her. She considered for a moment before answering.

‘I...I went home the other day, after the meeting. It was destroyed. Whilst I was here, the Nazis, they - they had just charged in there,' she said quietly.

‘What happened?' Blaine asked, his silence broken by this new horror.

‘Well, I found my cousin. She managed to hide, so they didn't find her. But she saw it all. They began walking down the street, this huge group of them, and just started shooting people. They had bombs with them and they blew up almost the whole street, our entire community, and killed everyone, except for a few that they took away, probably to send to the camps. So they may as well be dead,' she said, beginning to cry. ‘There were bodies lying in the street, rats running around. The fires are still burning,' Santana told them. Everyone was quiet, before Jesse spoke in a choked whisper.

‘What do you mean...they may as well be dead because they went to the camps?' he asked desperately. Blaine looked at Jesse. He was urgent, frightened.

‘Well, you know what happens at the camps,' Blaine said with a shudder, thankful that even though he hated that Kurt had to be taken away, it was better for him to be at the local jail instead of a death camp. He told himself this each day; things could be much, much worse.

Jesse shook his head. ‘No, I don't. I know things are really bad there...but Rachel's letter just said that she was going to be doing manual labour,' he told them. Everyone stared at him in horror.

‘Who's Rachel?' Brittany asked.

‘My girlfriend, I love her. She left yesterday - she's Jewish,' he explained.

‘Oh my God,' Santana said. ‘Why the hell didn't you tell us? We could have hidden her...you do realise that you're probably never going to see her again?' she told him.

‘Wait - what? They didn't say when she was coming back, but she will eventually,' Jesse said, his eyes wide with worry.

‘They didn't tell her when she was coming back because the answer is never, she is never coming back. Never,' Santana said angrily.

‘Calm down, San,' Blaine said. Jesse's eyes were filling with tears and Blaine placed a hand on his arm. ‘You can't think like that. I've lost my - someone, but it's not forever. We're going to get them back. I promise. Don't let yourself give up, for even a second,' he told Jesse firmly.

After a moment, Jesse nodded, and Blaine pulled him into a hug, not caring whether or not Jesse was comfortable with physical affection from another man. Jesse looked like he really needed someone to hold him. ‘What's his name?' Jesse asked after a moment, wiping his eyes.

‘Who?' Blaine asked, confused.

‘That someone you've lost. It's your boyfriend, isn't it?' he asked. Blaine nodded slowly, unsure how Jesse knew that he was a homosexual, and also unsure whether he was against it, like most of society. He pulled back from the hug slightly, looking at Jesse with nervous eyes.

‘His - his name is Kurt. And I love him. I love him so, so much. And he's gone,' Blaine said, now finally breaking down, letting the tears fall that he'd been holding in all day long. This time, it was Jesse who held Blaine.

‘It's alright to cry,' Jesse told him. After he had been holding Blaine for a moment, Jesse spoke the words that he knew Blaine needed to hear. ‘I don't mind that you're a homosexual, Blaine. I think it's perfectly natural, and I wish that the whole world thought so too,' he told him. The smaller boy in his arms was looking at him in shock and amazement.

‘That's one of the nicest things anyone has ever said to me,' Blaine told him.

‘Well, we're friends. Aren't we?' Jesse asked. Blaine nodded.

‘Yes, I'd say that we were friends,' he said.

‘Friends accept each other. No matter what,' Jesse told him. Blaine gave him a truly happy smile, and Jesse returned it, forgetting for the briefest of moments that Rachel was in grave danger. Then he remembered and the smile just fell away.

‘Good evening, everyone,' Puck greeted, beginning the meeting. After they had sung the song, which Jesse now knew all the words to, Quinn addressed the room.

‘It seems that the Nazis have begun their attack on the traveller community,' she said.

‘You can just say gypsies. The Nazis say a lot worse,' Santana said bitterly. Brittany took Santana's hand and kissed it softly. Blaine remembered the way that he and Kurt used to do the same to one another, to show affection and support. Before the memories could overwhelm him completely, Puck's next piece of news bought him crashing back to the present.

‘There seem to be definitely two but potentially three ways in which they are going after them. The first way is that the Nazis will break into a traveller community at some absurd hour when everyone is sleeping, and proceed to massacre all those living there. They leave a mess of bodies and burning buildings behind them, and we have reason to believe that they are taking a certain, select few people to the camps,' he told them, trying to remain calm, but the anger in his voice was quite obvious.

‘But we think there may be a specific reason why they are taking them to the camps - other than the Nazi's general racism and bigotry, of course. We just aren't entirely sure what the reason is yet. This is the potentiality that Puck was referring to; Sam is still finding out more information,' Quinn said.

‘Every day I go to the office and it seems that yet another thing has been taken away from anyone who isn't a white skinned, blonde haired heterosexual man with little or no religious inclination,' Sam explained sadly.

‘Well aren't you lucky,' Santana retorted. Then her expression softened slightly. ‘Sorry. That was out of line. I'm just so fucking angry,' she apologised.

‘It's fine,' Sam forgave her.

‘And the third thing is...well it's disgusting, actually,' Puck said. ‘Some travellers have been ordered to fill out forms for the Nazis. The travellers are sent to their nearest police station or government office to fill the forms out,' he said. Jesse glanced at Santana, remembering their conversation several days ago. She was waiting for Puck to continue, worried.

‘Well, it...it turns out that the person is left alone in a small room to fill out the forms. And while they are in there, a large amount of radiation is released into the room. The person doesn't smell it or feel it; they have no idea. But within several minutes, the radiation has invaded the body and caused the person to become completely infertile. The person has no knowledge about any of this; they develop a headache and begin vomiting several hours after their exposure to the radiation, and often suffer burns too, but they have absolutely no clue why,' Puck finished, his expression sickened.

There was a shocked silence as everyone digested this horrific piece of information, which was broken as Santana fell off her chair and curled into a sobbing wreck on the floor.

‘Oh God,' Jesse muttered to himself as he put two and two together. Brittany was sitting on the floor, holding Santana.

‘What's wrong? Tell me, you're scaring me,' Brittany asked urgently.

‘They - they got me,' Santana whimpered.

‘What do you mean?' Brittany asked.

‘I filled out the forms,' Santana explained, taking a great, shuddering breath before crying even harder. ‘I wanted a baby. I wanted one baby, one small part of me and one small part of someone else, that I could just hold and love...they took that away from me. They take everything! My mother, my brothers and sisters, all my family, my home and all my possessions...and now this, too,' she screamed in despair.

Everyone knew she needed to cry, and they all let Santana have her sadness for a moment.

‘Let's go,' Jesse murmured, scooping up Santana and carrying her. She clung to him, her arms wrapped fiercely around his neck like a small child, her face buried in his shoulder as she wept.

Blaine offered Brittany his arm, and she clutched it, her face wet with silent tears. Blaine looked as if he was on the verge of tears himself, and Jesse was trying desperately to stay strong for Santana. And Brittany, he realised. This affected Brittany too.

As they began climbing the stairs, Santana suddenly spoke. ‘I have nowhere to go. And they're after me. I know for certain, now,' she said, tears still flowing.

‘What about our apartment?' Brittany asked Blaine, who shook his head after a brief moment of consideration.

‘No. We would, of course we would - but it's too dangerous. Brit and I are already unsafe because of who we are. We can't bring a lesbian gypsy into our home as well, it's just too risky, for all of us. I'm so sorry, San,' he said, his eyes sad and apologetic. She nodded.

‘I understand. It's not your fault. It's theirs...I really - God, I fucking hate them,' she said.

‘We're going to my apartment. My parents are in Cologne for a business trip or a social gathering, I forget,' Jesse explained.

‘I can't impose,' Santana began, more out of politeness than anything, but Jesse cut across her.

‘You're not imposing. I'm offering. I can't lose you, Santana. And neither can the rest of the world. You're too important,' he told her. Brittany leaned over to kiss Santana's cheek.

‘We'll get through this. We'll get through all of it. And something good will come,' Brittany told her girlfriend. The two girls clasped their hands firmly, and Brittany kissed Santana's cheek softly. There it was again, Blaine realised, that promise, that love, in one small touch.

They continued walking up the stairs, all four of them with an unpleasant combination of pain, love, fear and anger stirring in their hearts. But they still hoped, because there was always room for hope.

Rachel clutched her small suitcase closer to her chest, pulling her knees up to her chin. She tried to ignore the sobs and shouts that surrounded her in the tiny, cramped box. It was too dark for her to see anything, and she didn't want to talk to anyone because they all seemed too angry and too sad. She didn't want to become like them.

She had arrived at the railway station three days ago and placed aboard this...well, one could hardly call it a train. It was a metal container, used for the storage and transport of food or books or machines - not people. But, Rachel reasoned, to the Nazis, she was no more than an unimportant object. She was not human, and therefore not treated as such. There were at least twenty of these metal containers connected together, and they travelled unsteadily along the railway line. She had grown used to the constant feeling of nausea as the track became rockier.

Rachel was cramped in the corner of the pitch black box, as she had been for the past three days. She knew it had been three days because she used a hairpin to scratch one notch each day into the metal beside her, to keep track. As she blindly ran her fingers across the hard surface, she came across other notches. Someone had been here before her. Rachel counted eight notches, scratched by someone else, and felt a sinking feeling of dread as she realised she would be here for another five days. If she made it, that is. There had already been twelve people died in Rachel's box, and the putrid stink of their decaying bodies filled the air. She could hardly bear to breath, and Rachel wondered if these people had felt the same way before dying.

Rachel tried to remember Jesse. She closed her eyes and remembered his eyes, his hair, his skin...the way he smelled, the way he held her, kissed her...the way it felt when he came inside her...Rachel realised that her hand seemed to have moved down and she had unconsciously begun touching herself a little, reliving the memory from that amazing night. She felt herself blush - thank goodness it was too dark for anyone to see what she had been doing - and quickly moved her hand away. She wasn't sure what had led her to do that. Rachel hurriedly shook the feeling off and tried not to think about Jesse, which was very difficult and not something she enjoyed.

As a baby began crying nearby, Rachel felt the fear of the tiny person slice right through her heart. That was the first night she didn't pray.

Kurt wearily dragged his feet down the corridor to the room - or, as he had begun to call it, the torture chamber. It was the same each day; they would all be woken up, taken to the room, and then the Nazis would arrive and proceed to torture them. Kurt was told every day that he deserved it, but he firmly told himself over and over that he didn't deserve it, not at all. He had sadly grown accustomed to being beaten, tied up and raped.

However, today, things seemed a little different. When he arrived in the room, there was only one Nazi there, a tall blonde man who was clearly hiding a very well-built body underneath his uniform. Kurt grew fearful, imagining how strong this officer was and how much harm he'd be able to inflict. However, after the police officers had left the room, the Nazi simply sat in a chair and began reading a newspaper. Kurt glanced at Sebastian, perplexed. Why weren't they being abused, like every day? Kurt could only assume that this Nazi was waiting for more officers to join him, or simply trying to make them all relax and think they were safe - before launching a surprise attack at any moment.

But, as the hours passed, and nothing happened, Kurt allowed himself to let down his guard a little. The boys began whispered conversations with one another, hesitant at first, but when the Nazi did nothing to stop them, the room filled with the general buzz of chatter.

‘So this is...odd,' Sebastian said, coming over to Kurt. He nodded in agreement.

‘My sentiments exactly,' he answered. ‘Do you think he's just waiting until we're all suitably convinced that nothing will happen before he strikes?' Kurt asked. Sebastian considered for a moment.

‘I have absolutely no idea. And I've been here a long time. Too long. Although from what I hear of the camps, we're better off here,' he told Kurt darkly.

‘Do you think that we'll be sent to a camp?' he asked Sebastian, trying not to sound scared.

‘Realistically, yes, I think we will end up in a camp eventually,' he answered Kurt. There was a pause, both men considering this inevitability.

‘Why haven't they sent us already?' Kurt wondered.

‘Not enough space, I imagine. Or perhaps they're just having too much fun torturing us to let us go,' Sebastian said sarcastically. Kurt chucked dryly. If he didn't laugh at this shit, then what else was there to do?

‘So how did they discover that you're...you know. A homosexual,' Kurt asked. ‘Did they walk in on you having sexual relations with your boyfriend, too?' he asked again.

Sebastian laughed. ‘I don't exactly have a boyfriend,' he said.

‘Ah. You're one of those,' Kurt realised. Sebastian laughed again.

‘If by ‘one of those' you mean hustler, then no, that is not correct. You know, nearly all the hustlers who fuck men are heterosexual. They just do it for the money. And they're frightfully talented at sodomy too, I might add,' he told Kurt, who frowned. ‘What's wrong?' Sebastian asked.

‘I don't like that word,' Kurt said. When Sebastian looked at him questioningly, he continued. ‘Sodomy. It's defined by all the dictionaries as ‘improper sexual intercourse', it's equated to having intercourse with animals, children. And I just find that insulting, that when Blaine and I make love it's somehow improper? It's no better than having relations with a horse? Because it's not, it's beautiful. It's love,' Kurt explained. Both boys were quiet for a moment, even Sebastian stunned at what his friend had just said. He'd never thought of it like that before.

‘Excuse me,' said a voice several feet away from them. Kurt and Sebastian froze in fear when they saw that it was the Nazi speaking to them.

‘Y-y-yes?' Kurt managed to stutter.

‘What is your name?' he asked.

‘Kurt. Kurt H-h-hummel,' he answered shakily. Recognition sparked in the blonde man's eyes.

‘Tell me, Kurt Hummel, do you know a Blaine Anderson?' he asked. Kurt paused for a second before answering. He couldn't say that he knew Blaine, it would be too dangerous. They might go after his Blaine too.

‘Erm, n-n-no,' Kurt said unconvincingly. The Nazi clearly saw right through his lie. He leaned back in his chair, and smiled, but it wasn't the smug, superior, chilling smile that all the Nazis wore. It seemed like the man was amused, happy. Kurt shook this idea off, certain that he had just put Blaine in danger. Dammit, why had he mentioned Blaine's name?

Santana and Jesse sat on his roof, their feet dangling off the side, silently staring out at the city.

‘I was going to choose you, you know,' Santana told him suddenly.

‘What do you mean? Choose me for what?' Jesse asked.

‘I was going to ask if you'd be the father of my child,' she said quietly, her hand subconsciously slipping down to rest upon her stomach, cradling the child that would never exist.

Jesse didn't know how to respond, so Santana continued. ‘Brittany was going to ask Blaine. She decided years ago that he was the right choice. He'd already agreed to it,' she told him.

‘And...why me?' Jesse asked quietly. Santana paused, before turning to look at him when she answered.

‘I've met a few other men, in the past, who don't mind that I'm a lesbian. But with you it's different - you sort of go one step further. It's like you embrace my homosexuality and you understand it, almost. I've never really had that with anyone before. And then there are all of your wonderful traits; you're honest, kind, accepting, intelligent, loving and caring. Everything I'd want my child to be, they'd learn from you,' she told him. Then, after a pause, ‘And they'd be ridiculously good looking, like us,' she said, managing to smile.

Jesse laughed softly. ‘Well. I don't really know what to say. I'm - I'm honoured, I guess?' he said.

‘Don't lie, you're completely shocked,' Santana said, still smiling.

‘I just...how would it work?' Jesse asked. She rolled her eyes.

‘Well Jesse, I would lie down and open my legs, and you would take off your trousers and put your - ' she began sarcastically, but he cut her off.

‘No, I know how it works. I meant, how would it work once the baby was born?' he clarified, averting his gaze from Santana, who had opened her legs wide as part of the demonstration. Once she understood that this was not a sex education lesson, she hurriedly closed them.

‘Oh. Well, obviously it wouldn't happen for several years, but basically, Brittany, Rachel and myself would have been the child's mother, if it was alright with Rachel. And you would have been the child's father. With Brittany and Blaine, her and myself would be the mothers, and Kurt and Blaine would be the fathers. But I always imagined that all of us would end up being parents to all the children. That's how I always pictured it - an enormous, happy family. My family,' she said, blinking away tears. ‘But I've let go of that dream. It's never going to happen,' she said.

She looked away from Jesse, turning her attention back to the magnificent view of Berlin below.

‘I used to love this city. I've lived in a lot of places during my sixteen years on this earth, but none of them felt like home until I came to Berlin,' she said. Jesse moved closer to Santana and held her hand in a gesture of comfort. She sighed sadly. ‘It's two o'clock in the morning. The only sounds should be a few drunks staggering home, a night train in the distance and the occasional car. And what do we have instead? The screams of children being dragged away from their parents, the chunder of a hundred police vans through the streets and the chilling boom as yet another building is blown apart. I look around what ought to be a beautiful city lit by golden streetlights, and I see flames flying fifty feet into the sky as the love and the dreams burn. I see masses of people running to save themselves, and I see my city, my home, crumble around me. I hate Berlin, now. The Nazis killed my love. They got me,' she told Jesse.

The two were silent for a long time. Eventually, the sky began to brighten and they decided that they ought to go inside before Santana was seen by anyone. She got up first and began walking across the roof, back to the door into Jesse's apartment.

‘Santana?' Jesse said softly. She turned around upon hearing her name. ‘I would have said yes,' he told her. Santana nodded slightly, giving him the tiniest of smiles, before turning away and heading into the house. As she left, the same thought crossed both of their young minds. It was too late.

‘Kurt. Kurt, wake up!' Kurt opened his eyes upon hearing the urgent whisper. He saw the blonde Nazi from several days ago, stood next to him, and sat up immediately, frightened beyond belief. Seeing his reaction, the officer hurriedly spoke, ‘it's alright, it's alright. I'm not going to hurt you. I'm - I'm not on their side,' he reassured Kurt, who looked at him disbelievingly.

‘You're wearing their uniform,' he said the Nazi, eyeing the swastika on his chest with distaste.

‘I hate this uniform. I hate everything that it stands for. Everything,' he told Kurt. There was a short pause.

‘Why are you waking me up?' Kurt asked, glancing at the silver watch the Nazi wore, ‘at one o'clock in the morning?' he said, groaning inwardly at how tired he'd be tomorrow. ‘Did you want to do something particularly mean and twisted to me?' he asked sarcastically. The blonde man shook his head quickly, and upon closer inspection, Kurt saw that he didn't look much older than himself. ‘How old are you?' he said. The man hesitated before answering.

‘Seventeen. They think I'm twenty two,' he said. Kurt frowned.

‘Why are you lying to them about your age?' he asked. The Nazi gently pulled Kurt to his feet.

‘I'm lying to them about a lot of things,' he told Kurt. ‘When was the last time you showered?' he asked.

‘I've been able to wash using water from the sink...but I've not felt clean for almost a week,' Kurt answered. The Nazi nodded, and reached into a large bag on the floor, retrieving a towel and several small bottles.

‘I'm going to let you use the shower upstairs. And I have some clean clothes for you,' he told him. Kurt was now utterly confused.

‘What on earth is going on?' he asked.

‘You'll see. It's nothing bad, I promise you. Quite the opposite, actually. And my name's Sam, by the way. Sam Evans,' he said, holding out his hand to Kurt.

He stared at Sam's hand for a moment, before hesitantly shaking it. He gave Sam a small smile, which Sam returned with a huge grin.

Blaine paced the room anxiously, running his hands through his hair. He hadn't been bothering to smooth it down since Kurt had gone. Kurt always liked it best in its natural state.

He was in the basement of a disused house. He and Jesse had come here earlier and cleaned it up. Candles were placed all over the room, providing low, romantic light as well as masking the musty smell of the old room. There was a bed in the centre of the room. Blaine hummed nervously as he waited.

‘Here we are,' Sam said. Kurt glanced at the old house before him. He'd seen it before; it was the home of an old mayor, many years ago. It had been sitting unused for several decades.

‘I'd ask ‘what the fuck?' but you never seem to answer my questions,' Kurt told Sam, who laughed.

‘Just go in there. It will all become very clear, I promise. I swear, I'm not here to hurt you. Just remember that this is for one night only,' he warned Kurt.

‘What is?' he asked, but Sam was already walking away.

‘Just go in there before someone sees you,' he called back.

Kurt opened the door and stepped inside, gasping at what he saw.

Candles. So many candles he couldn't count them, lighting the hallway. He followed them slowly, hardly daring to breath, until he arrived at another door. He opened it, and saw steps leading down, lit with more candles. He was now slightly worried. Was this a trap of some sort? But then he reached the bottom of the steps and turned the corner, stepping into the large basement room. And he cried out in delighted shock.

‘Blaine,' was all Kurt could manage to say.

‘Kurt,' Blaine said in return. They looked at each other for a moment, and then Blaine was tearing towards Kurt, and Kurt was reaching for Blaine, and they were in each other's arms once again, where they belonged. ‘Oh Kurt, Kurt, Kurt,' Blaine was whispering into Kurt's neck, kissing it softly, and then Kurt's lips found Blaine's and they kissed deeper than ever before, tongue and tears mingling as lips crushed desperately, urgent breaths scattered through the air.

‘God Blaine, I missed you,' Kurt said, breaking the kiss to allow himself one wonderful moment of staring into those eyes.

‘I missed you too,' Blaine said, gently wiping a tear off Kurt's cheek. They didn't say anything else, somehow deciding with their eyes that sex was going to happen. He began unbuttoning Kurt's shirt, going so, so slowly. Blaine gently kissed Kurt's chest as more and more was exposed, finally removing it altogether. His eyes widened in horror at the marks all over Kurt's beautiful body. He realised what must have happened to his love.

Kurt shook his head, not wanting to ruin the moment, and began taking off Blaine's shirt, too. He tossed the material to the floor and then closed his eyes, breathing Blaine in and sighing. He hadn't smelled his boyfriend in so long.

Then, Kurt moved back and very slowly and deliberately removed his trousers, then his underwear. He stood before Blaine, feeling more exposed in that moment than he ever had in a room full of Nazis. He would always be more naked in front of Blaine because Blaine saw parts of him that no-one else could. Not the physical parts. Blaine could see right into Kurt's heart and soul. And Kurt could see Blaine's.

As Blaine proceeded to remove the rest of his clothing, too, they looked at each other, these boys who had somehow become men. ‘You are so beautiful,' Kurt whispered to Blaine.

‘You too,' Blaine returned. ‘It's been almost two years and you still take my breath away, every time,' he told Kurt. He gently placed his hand on Kurt's waist, and pulled him closer, returning Kurt to his side, where he belonged.

‘I love you, Kurt,' he told him fervently.

‘I love you too. So much, Blaine,' Kurt said, kissing him again. They moved to the bed, taking things much slower than usual. Both of them were taking the time to remember everything, to save each moment in their minds. They took the time to feel everything, to see everything, to hear the small sounds, to touch the dark in every part of each other. They knew that they had to remember this night. They had to. Both knew it was their last.

Afterwards, they lay on the bed, both facing one another, like the first time. Blaine softly rubbed his nose over Kurt's, and the memory flared up in both of them, so strong. It had all been so simple, then. What happened, Kurt wondered, as he shed a silent tear. Time. Time happened, forcing them to grow up. He knew it was useless to wish that it could be like it all was two years ago. It wouldn't be the same. And that was the funny thing about growing up. You didn't realise it was happening, but once it was done, you could never go back. Never. You knew too much, your mind was full of poisonous knowledge. Ignorance was truly bliss.

‘I have this for you,' Blaine said, reaching under the mattress to retrieve two silver rings. He slid one onto his own finger and the other on Kurt's. ‘I know we can't get married or anything. But these rings mean that we love each other, forever. That nothing can stop our love. As long as we each wear our ring...we'll be alright. We'll get through. Love never ends, like the ring,' Blaine said, running his finger around the edge of the ring. It kept going, circle after circle, round and round, again and again, never stopping.

Kurt took Blaine's hand and kissed the ring. ‘Even when we're far apart,' he said, fighting back tears, ‘I'll look down at my ring and think of you. And the pain will be worth it,' he told Blaine. ‘I know that hell is coming. I'm scared. But I'll think of you every single day. I love you, Blaine. I love you, I love you, I love you, you, you, you,' he whispered, crying, and kissing Blaine again and again, never stopping.

They were sleeping when Sam came back. Blaine was awake, watching Kurt sleep. He saw Sam, and put a finger to his lips.

‘He needs to come with me before they notice he's gone,' Sam whispered to Blaine.

‘I know. I know,' Blaine replied, looking at Kurt. ‘I want to know nothing but his arms, just for another tiny moment'

Leave, leave, and free yourself at the same time - leave, leave, I don't understand, you've already gone