In the middle of a hurricane, Blaine found his saving grace in the form of a brilliant beam of light and a radiant angel. He guided Blaine through the storm with a gentle hand and he came out the other side alive and more whole than he thought possible. It seemed that finally,finally, Blaine's world could be complete; the holes left by his abusive father were patched with only the caressing touch of the boy's skin against his. The love that grew inside him was tentative and fragile, lost and wasted in childhood innocence. Blaine was a blanket, bits of memories sewn together with blind trust and loyalty. There was no one he could imagine loving more, or needing more, than Kurt. The very idea of spending an eternity with another was unfathomable, so beyond Blaine's realm of thought that it never even crossed his mind: until it crossed Kurt's.

And then the idea of being apart became all Blaine could think about. What if, after their impending separation, Kurt decided he needed to experience people beyond him? They'd said forever, but at the age of eighteen who reallymeantit? How did Blaine know that it wasn't just another word, flippantly dropped because it sounded appropriate in that moment? How did he know that Kurt wouldn't find someone better, and leave him to fall apart again?

The thoughts tortured Blaine night and day, turning him into a twisted mass of nerves and fears. The oppressing terror of the inevitable goodbye weighed tremendously on his shoulders. Any day, he thought, the nightly phone call from Kurt would be the last one, and then the most cherished thing in his life would be gone. Any day, Blaine would be alone again.

All he needed was a distraction. No, what he really needed then was afriend.And for the first time since Kurt left, he felt like he had none. So he turned to the next best thing, which for Blaine ended up being meaningless sex with a stranger just to escape the absolute agony of his love. And in doing so, he not only wrecked the only relationship he really ever believed in – he also broke the heart of the one person he swore he'd never hurt.

The only thing more painful than coming to terms with his horrifying mistake was the idea of having to own up to it. He could see Kurt's face in his mind even before he'd said anything, red and streaked with tears that he knew he would cause. He could imagine how painful it would be to say those horrible words, but he never experienced more pain then when they finally fell from his lips. The way Kurt's face fell and crumpled, the way his chest caved in when he sobbed, the way his lower lip stuck out when he cried was what Blaine knew he would remember forever. It was everything Blaine had never wanted to see on his love's face. More than anything he wanted to take Kurt in his arms and kiss away his tears, but how could he, when he was the initial cause? It was as if he'd been swept up into some alternate universe, where he was the villain, no longer able to come to Kurt's rescue because how could he save Kurt from himself? How could he argue or fight, when deep down he knew Kurt should walk away from him? Leave Blaine alone and miserable, because that's what he deserved.

Kurt deserved so much better than anything Blaine could offer him. But that didn't stop him from trying to make things better.

But they didn't get better, not really. Because Kurt became exasperated with the constant phone calls, Blaine begging and pleading with him for forgiveness and more chances to make it better. Kurt needed time and space from Blaine, that he knew. But it was so hard – almosttoohard – to finally relinquish Kurt, to let him go, to let him be free. Blaine was nothing but a prison, and Kurt had been locked up for too long.

There were some low points – although Blaine had too much pride to mention it – and times where he felt very ashamed of his thoughts. There were times when he was so desperate for a way out that a razor would find its way into his hand, and he'd manage to stop himself before he brought it to his skin – but only just. Every night he would sit alone in his bedroom, and remember times when he and Kurt would sing and dance and snuggle and kiss and make love, right there on his bed. He could remember the way his skin tasted, smooth and sweet beneath his tongue. He remembered the feeling of Kurt's lips on his own, fitting together in a way that felt to Blaine like being home. He could still feel the hard bones of Kurt's hips, fingers forming bruises as Blaine pressed into him, hot breath washing over them when he was finally inside. He remembered the way Kurt moaned and writhed in the bed sheets, hands clutching the pillow tightly, kissing Blaine for all he was worth, until the sensations were too much and he came with a shudder between them, his back arching up into Blaine's body as they rode out their ecstasy together. He could remember everything so clearly – everything was written down, in the sheets, on the walls, through the air - so Blaine just curled up under the covers and soaked in the last remnants of Kurt.

There was little solace to be found in anyone but Sam, and even he didn't always give advice. But for the first time, Blaine was talking to someone who actuallylistenedand told him what he needed to hear. Sam was the only one who didn't make him feel villainous and evil for his mistake, even if Blaine felt that himself. Maybe that source of solace was what made Blaine think his feelings for Sam could be genuine – but his childish adoration paled in comparison to the absolute, agonizing love he reserved for Kurt alone.

Burt Hummel became his guardian angel. Although Burt had never been one for heavy words, they talked long and deeply, and Blaine may have shed a tear or two, but he admitted to his mistake and Burt asked how he could make it better. That was it – no fanfare, no shouting or angry words, even if Blaine had deeply hurt his only son. All Burt wanted was to see the two of them heal. And so Blaine agreed he would go to New York with him at Christmas and surprise Kurt, all the while wondering if it was a very bad idea indeed.

"Package for Mr. Kurt Hummel," he'd said as he skated up behind him, unable to keep his smile off his face when Kurt turned around and he saw his face in person for the first time in months. Everything he'd been feeling and held back rushed to the surface in that moment, staring into those oceanic blue eyes and knowing he couldn't say anything, knowing that bringing it up would only ruin the moment. So Blaine stayed silent but eager, and Kurt was surprised but happy. And their time together before Blaine returned home was light and fun, pieces of their friendship rising up out of the ashes of their relationship. Blaine could see on Kurt's face how much he'd already lost him, could tell that Kurt was much farther distanced from their relationship than Blaine could ever hope to be. Every time Kurt gushed about how much he loved working in New York, Blaine's heart sunk a little more until it lay in a puddle by his feet. Kurt was moving on, Blaine thought, and more quickly than he'd imagined. He almost wished for a sad smile, or a teary eye – something to let Blaine know that a part of him missed what they'd had. But Blaine saw nothing – Kurt was happy and cheery and more himself than he'd been in a long time. New York, NYADA, Vogue – it all suited him perfectly. Blaine left feeling more than a bit disappointed and heartsick.

And then there was the phone call. It had woken Blaine up, and Kurt was never one to call late at night. He'd grabbed his phone and spoken incomprehensibly, eyes still bleary and adjusting to the darkness. Kurt, however, was even more perplexingly inarticulate, and soon it became apparent to Blaine exactly why. It seemed that Kurt was very intoxicated, and Blaine only felt a moment to be bemused – Kurt had never touched alcohol in his life before – before he started fully comprehending what Kurt was slurring. Though some of it was unintelligible mumbling, very clearly Blaine caught the words "Adam," "sexy," and "ohmygod Blaine sooo drunk." Blaine was silent, shell-shocked and confused, but it was obvious that Kurt expected him to say something back, because there was a heavy silence on the line.

"Oh," Blaine said, eyebrows pulling together tightly. "Who's this Adam?"

There was a light, airy giggle from the other side of the line. "Myboyfriend," Kurt emphasized. "I think Ilovehim, Blaine. You know?"

Blaine gulped, hard. "That's . . . good, Kurt. Good for you." It was forced, but he knew Kurt would be too drunk to notice.

"Iknow. He's such a good dancer, and he has anaccent.He—," and Kurt was interrupted by someone. Blaine's eyebrows furrowed deeper, listening closely. There was background noise – maybe Kurt was in a bar somewhere – and heard another voice, distinctly male.

"Just Blaine," Kurt said distantly. There was a shout, a scuffling noise, and then a click. The line went dead.

Blaine fell back asleep with a knot in his stomach.

For four straight, solid weeks, Blaine heard not one word from Kurt, not even indirectly through Rachel or Burt. They had agreed to be friends at Christmas, but Kurt had not texted or called or emailed. Maybe he was busy with school, or his internship, or Adam; maybe he'd just forgotten. Either way, Blaine's heart ached with missing him.

As Valentine's Day approached, Mr. Schuester approached him after glee club, an envelope in his hand. His face was concerned; Blaine half-smiled at him, head hanging low.

"How have things been, Blaine? You haven't been yourself."

"It's—"

"Kurt?" Mr. Schuester guessed. Blaine nodded. "Have you heard from him at all?"

"Not in a while. Last time we talked was around New Year's, and it sounded like he was dating someone else."

"I'm sorry, Blaine." He put his hands on Blaine's shoulders. "I was really hoping it would work between the two of you."

"Yeah," said Blaine miserably. "Me too."

Mr. Schuester handed Blaine the envelope. "Emma and I are getting married on Valentine's Day. We hope you can make it."

Blaine slipped the envelope in his bag. "I'll make sure to. Should I prepare a song?"

Mr. Schuester smiled. "Definitely."