When Kurt saw Rachel the next day at headquarters neither of them mentioned the activities of the night previous.

There was a brief pause where Kurt tried not to imagine her lips wrapped around that guy Puck's dick and she tried not to remember how awfully strung out Kurt looked when he was high.

Rachel also decided not to question Kurt about the white bandages wrapped under his wrist cuff.

They were good at this.

Both of them were experts in pretending that nothing was wrong; talented in ignoring things that made them uncomfortable and focused on trivial things.

"So I was thinking," Rachel began excitedly, taking Kurt's hands. Her voice fell to a hush as others passed. Kurt then closed the door behind her as they made their way into his little 'office'.

"Yes?" Kurt rose an eyebrow curiously, holding his mask of turmoil firm. He pushed aside envelopes and other miscellaneous items to clear a space to write down ideas.

"Since we got so many donations this year I think we should celebrate," she paused for dramatic effect. "And hold a masquerade ball for all the new recruits."

Rachel's grin was so wide it was almost comical.

"Wouldn't that be fun?"

Kurt scribbled it down along with preferred dates that didn't interfere with other press appearances or events. He then tapped the pen to his chin.

"I love the idea, but we have more pressing matters at the moment. We still have to prepare for the speech at the university this weekend."

Rachel agreed and went off on one of her rants about how they need better security for Burt and the staff but Kurt's mind wandered, reflecting over the conversation he had with his father.

Kurt had told him everything; about how Ben was actually Blaine and that Kurt had found out by accident and broke things off, and that's why he had been acting out.

His father listened with rapt attention, his expression mostly unreadable until Kurt ran out of things to say. He didn't know how to explain what he was going through without being completely honest, especially since it was eating him up.

Though, as much as it felt good to get it off his chest, Kurt had never felt more terrified in his life. He began to feel sick from the anxiety of waiting for his father's response, who had promptly fallen into silence after his son was finished speaking, his gaze downcast to his fingers rubbing over Kurt's knuckles comfortingly.

Kurt assumed that Burt had nothing to say; he seemed literally that dumbfounded, but little did he know his father had so much to say. Things Kurt never even dreamed of-

"Are you even listening to me?" Rachel interrupted snottily, getting in Kurt's face. He blinked and shook the memory away, saving it for a later time. He got his pen ready again.

"Yeah, yeah.. keep going."

***

Blaine had never received a call from Burt or his son that night, despite what he promised. He waited all night, sleeping by his phone, just hoping but the sun came up and it was a new day promising the same old anxieties.

Headquarters was oddly quiet and uneventful as the week wore on, despite all the planning for Burt's big speech at the local university; the first one in history. Blaine felt useless, not knowing what to do, especially because all requested audience with Burt were turned down each time.

Blaine then only caught glimpses of Kal, but he was always surrounded by Burt's staff or Raven holding boxes of fliers. Both of them, father and son were acting like nothing had happened.

Even worse, Blaine no longer existed in the world of Kal, nothing but an insignificant blip on his radar. He wanted to feel enraged about it, force Kal to know that this isn't the way you treat people you know care about you.

But Blaine's sensation of abandonment was almost paralyzing.

He should have made other friends other than the heads of command. Maybe he should have found someone to come with him from the foster home so he wouldn't have found himself so alone in the massive, terrifying world around him.

Blaine wanted to go back to being a child because he was more lost than ever. What was he to do now?

He couldn't leave. He had nowhere else to go.

Blaine remembered reading books about Burt's philosophy while no parents ever came to claim him. He was estranged; too old for anyone to start loving him, and then he was kicked out at 18. He was lucky enough to receive a mysteriously big inheritance from his absent parents to find a place to live afterward.

His only real friends or guardians always left him for something better. Always temporary; and Burt and Kal were no exception.

He had nobody to look to but himself.

Blaine could always find more books to read, but he didn't even know how to get to the library, or anywhere really for that matter. Or maybe he was just afraid of doing things on his own. Maybe he was agoraphobic.

He cooped himself mostly up at home finding articles, papers, novels and the like to scour over on the internet until his duty to the cause called for his assistance. He could tell everybody he worked with liked him, but none of them made an effort to extend beyond acquaintances with mutual interests.

Kal had been his only visiter; his first lover. Blaine sheets still smelled like his shampoo. Blaine's heart still beat in time with the one next to him that night. Nothing else in the world had been more intimate that holding Kal in his arms.

The loss of someone he knew was so special not by his choice was the worst part of it all. Something Blaine was so painfully familiar with, but could never get used to.

So Blaine couldn't help but feel like he was being lied to as he watched Burt's speech in the university courtyard that weekend.

There were so many people, most likely record breaking crowds. There were closed off areas and caution tape along with countless law enforcement to make sure everything went accordingly.

There were even protesters with intense leers and offensive signs. Luckily, they remained quiet for the actual keynote. The only sounds were the hushed whispers of volunteers at the booths nearby, answering questions of students who seemed to be interested or simply just curious.

Blaine watched a pretty blond girl write her information down on the clipboard Raven was offering her, giving him a flashback to when that was him. He remembered the promise of a new life full of new promises and the right path, but he was still so scared.

He was always scared. Blaine could tell that all the hesitating people making their way to and from class were too.

Free wrist, blank wrist, covered wrist or not, they were all in the same baffling world ever-spinning, ever-challenging. No matter how much humans tried to categorize themselves, it didn't change anything of nature.

Things were just the way they were, and sometimes you just have to learn to accept it.

That's why Burt's voice always got them in the end. His pure conviction and sincerity. His genuine face and sparkling eyes; he knew what he knew to be truth, and Blaine found himself again wishing he knew the man behind the mask.

Blaine had spent a whole evening with him one-on-one, but only understood so much. He knew that Burt loved his son more than anything else, even the cause. He could tell that Burt was loyal and true to himself, something that Kal had adopted with ease.

But has Burt ever loved? Blaine wanted to know that most of all.

Blaine twisted the cuff around his wrist to relieve minor aches and itches that have come with coming of age.

While Burt spoke of reason and love, Blaine couldn't help but sense the parallel from months ago when he had heard Burt speak in person for the first time; how enthralled and enraptured he was by it all.

How he had Kal right by his side.

Burt was like some vague father-figure Blaine could aspire to be because he was actually in reach. When Blaine picked up his first best-selling novel it was the first time in his life he didn't feel like he was spinning out of control.

But when false promises turn to abandonment, Blaine has to turn his back. It's vital to his self-preservation.

He has to give them both up and move on.

How and to what, Blaine may never find out or actually succeed. He still holds on to vestiges of his parents even though he never knew them.

Blaine swallowed the ache in his throat and it stuck in his chest, knowing that Burt could never be a father to him. Kal would never let that happen.

It made Blaine want to hate Kal with every fiber of his being, but it was an utterly impossible feat.

Blaine knew, in his heart of hearts and soul of souls that he was in love. He didn't know how so fast or why someone so complicated, but he knew it was true, and he knew that nothing could change that; up to the day he died.

Love isn't a choice, it's just something that happens. And it's dutiful commitment from then on out. So if somebody didn't want to contribute and fight, it will be lost.

Kal just let it fall apart before they really became something.

Blaine blinked away his tears, really not wanting to cry in public so he attempted to listen, letting his eyes wander up to the stage once more.

His gaze drifted to his would-be-soulmate. Blaine's wrist prickled at the sight.

Kal sat by the podium, watching his father with an even, cool gaze. He almost looked like statue, so still, so stunning. His leg was crossed neatly over the other, his palms fitted between them, nodding every so often.

Burt's voice wavered for a second with something Blaine didn't understand, but didn't have time to wonder because he heard his name, whispered and urgent from next to him.

"Blaine."

His real name.

"Blaine-"

He clenched his jaw, angling his head toward the woman seated next to him. She had not been there a minute ago. It was like she was a ghost. However, he did not answer.

"I know you have some unanswered questions," she continued softly, leaning in conspiratorially. "I know where you can find them."

"How do you know my name," Blaine whispered back through clenched teeth, turning to face her. His heart was pounding like he was prey about to be pounced on. His body was in fight or flight mode, ready to flee at a moment's notice; attack if he had to.

The woman's face was hooded by her long, framing hair. She wore dark sunglasses that contrasted her porcelain skin. Blaine was struck with an odd sense of familiarity that sent a pang to his heart and rattled his bones.

But he knew he had never met her before in his life. Had he?

"That doesn't matter now," she pressed, her voice nothing more that a murmur. "Here, take this."

The woman leaned over and rummaged through her bag, her shirt sliding up over her hip to reveal a small black spider tattoo. Blaine doesn't have long to admire it since she finds what she's looking for and hands it to him.

It's a small piece of paper with an address on it. What was he supposed to do with this? It's not like he'd willingly walk into something sinister or dangerous.

Now he knew for sure that at least somebody was watching him. Fear clawed at his insides.

As if the woman could sense what he was thinking she lowered her lenses and gazed at him with miraculous eyes.

"You have to trust me," is all she says, and for some reason, he wants to.

Blaine looks down at the piece of paper again, smoothing it under his fingers. This was all too peculiar for his taste.

"I-"

But the woman was gone.