On Wednesday, Blaine donned his blazer and his mask of exuberance and ventured back into the halls of Dalton. He was greeted repeatedly before he'd even made it out of his residential block, everyone hastening to reassure themselves that the Warblers' star was perfectly fine. Even though Dalton was a boys' school, rumours still had a way of spreading and growing at a staggering speed - Blaine taking a day off because he was simply so goddamn tired had somehow turned into Blaine on his deathbed, in desperate need of a new kidney, lung and liver.

The spread of rumours had only been helped by the sight of Patrick leaving Blaine's room looking sad and worried, just as everyone had returned from dinner the night before. Blaine's boyfriend had refused to say anything of Blaine's condition, quickly disappearing into his own room with a frown. The student body had extrapolated this to mean that Blaine was clearly deteriorating. So Blaine was stopped every twenty feet practically his entire way to breakfast by people wanting to see for themselves that nothing was wrong. By the time he actually made it to the cafeteria, his face already hurt from all the smiles he'd had to force onto his face, and he still had one more scene to charm his way through.

Patrick was already seated with some of his friends, idly pushing his breakfast around on his plate. Without even bothering to grab any food, Blaine walked over to the boy and put a hand on his shoulder, subtly squeezing.

'Hey, you,' he said, grinning down at Patrick. 'Want to sit with me this morning?' He tilted his head to indicate a small table in the corner of the room.

Patrick blushed slightly, looking bashfully down at his plate. At another time, Blaine would have found this absolutely adorable. His grip tightened almost imperceptibly on Patrick's shoulder. The blond boy stood, still smiling shyly, and followed Blaine to the table.

They had barely had time to sit down before Blaine said, 'I'm really sorry about last night. It had just been... an intense day.'

Patrick looked down at his hands before answering, 'It's all cool. We all have days like that, I guess.' He hesitated slightly, before asking, 'But... would you mind telling me why, yet?'

Blaine's smile got even harder to hold. 'Oh, you know how everything seems so much worse when you're sick. I just had some stuff on my mind and then getting sick kind of made it easier to blow it out of proportion.'

Patrick, still not looking up, downed his entire glass of orange juice before asking, in the same tone as before, 'Were you worried about Hummel?'

Blaine looked hard at his boyfriend, tossing up what answer to give him. It was hard to know, since Blaine himself wasn't entirely sure what he wanted out of this situation. Eventually he said evenly, 'I was, a bit, yeah. I mean, we don't see each other anymore, but he used to be my best friend.'

'Okay,' Patrick muttered. 'Well, I guess that's understandable.' He finally looked up, meeting Blaine's eyes. 'But you're feeling better now, right?'

Blaine couldn't lie to this boy while looking him in the eye. He looked away, down at Patrick's fidgeting hands and said, 'All better now, yeah.' He then grabbed Patrick's hand and tugged him out of the seat. 'Come walk in the garden with me before first period?'

Patrick nodded his assent, so Blaine quickly tugged him through the corridors and out to the east gardens, in the opposite direction from where Blaine had once taken Kurt. They slowly wove among trees and bushes for about ten minutes, hand in hand, not speaking. Finally, as Patrick started to glance at his watch, Blaine stopped them under the long branches of a maple tree. It's now or never, Blaine through desperately to himself, and pressed his lips to Patrick's.

The kiss wasn't anything like the frantic grappling of the night before. Sunlight filtered through the leaves of the tree and caressed their faces, as warm and soft and sweet as the press of their lips. It was over almost as quickly as it had come, Patrick drawing back to trace the patterns the light and leaves made on Blaine's face with a giddy smile.

Blaine curled his mouth up, not even able to fake a real smile any more. His chest hurt. 'I'll see you later,' he said, trying to suck the warmth out of the air around him and put it into his voice. Patrick's expression didn't change, so Blaine guessed he must have succeeded. 'You'd better head to class.' Blaine gently pushed at Patrick's shoulder, and the taller boy practically bounced off with a wave over his shoulder.

Blaine stared morosely at the departing boy's back, tugging out his phone and sending a text before he could think about it too hard. About what he was saying, or the fact that he seemed to be hurting more and more people all the time.

x

Kurt stared at his phone and wondered what he could have possibly done to land himself in something so close to hell.

There, innocuously sitting at the end of Blaine's conversation thread like it fit in with the inane chatter before it, was a message that had arrived this morning while Kurt was sleeping.

I don't. I tried to, and I can't.

Eight simple words that would seem harmless to an outsider. But coming from Blaine, they were crushing.

Kurt had pushed Blaine out of his hospital room and his life with one simple plea: to love. That if Blaine was going to be with someone else, to love the boy he chose fully and forever. So that Kurt might not have suffered, might not have lived through months of confusion and depression and torment, for nothing. And here Blaine was telling Kurt that he didn't love Patrick, that he couldn't do the one thing Kurt had asked of him.

Even disregarding the fact, painful in its own right, that Blaine was actively trying to develop feelings for someone else - that hurt.

Kurt kept staring. He didn't know what to write back, or if he should. He didn't even know what to feel - so many warring emotions filling his head and heart that none shone through clear enough for him to pick it out.

Failing everything else, Kurt fell back on straight honesty as he tapped out a reply to Blaine. I don't want to hear it. Please. I don't want to know that my transfer, and everything that came with it, was for nothing.

It had been hours since Blaine had first messaged Kurt, but his reply was still near-instantaneous. So come back.

Confusion crept up on Kurt. This was the second time now that Blaine had asked him to go back to Dalton. The first could be passed off as a knee-jerk reaction to hearing that a friend had been attacked. But a second time, and in the context of this conversation? Kurt sent off, Why should I, Blaine? I'm finally safe at McKinley.

Again, Blaine's reply arrived almost before Kurt could put down his phone. Never as safe as you'll be at Dalton.

At that, Kurt growled in frustration. What did Blaine want from him? Kurt finally had a chance to live in something like peace, and Blaine was trying to talk him out of it. Almost like he wanted Kurt but only in the fringes, wanted him close but not too close. Always on hand if Blaine needed him but easily pushed away, and with no concern for how much it hurt Kurt. It made Kurt want to smash something.

But that was a harsh picture to draw, and no matter how Blaine had treated Kurt over the last few months, Kurt found it hard to believe. Blaine, regardless of his reluctance to put real feelings on the line, was still a fundamentally good person. Hell, he was still amazing. Kurt still only had to picture Blaine's face - brimming with sympathy and support as it had been the day they first met, or lit up with the joy of a performance and so utterly beautiful that it made Kurt's breath catch - to remember exactly how amazing Blaine was. So what was Blaine angling for here?

What do you want from me? Kurt finally sent.

He didn't know if he should be satisfied that the question appeared to stump Blaine thoroughly, since he didn't reply until the next day. And even then, it was simply, I don't know.

x

By Friday, even Patrick had noticed that Blaine's mask was slipping.

He'd been far from the first to notice - that honour had gone to David and Wes, who'd never believed Blaine's mask in the first place - but come Friday lunch time, even the infatuated sophomore had realised that something was wrong with his boyfriend.

Patrick had watched Blaine from afar ever since he'd transferred to Dalton, and had always seen him to be endlessly energetic, cheerful and affectionate. Blaine's friends constantly brought a light to his face, and after the first month or two of Dalton's security, he'd never been afraid to grab a hand or pull someone into a hug where it was warranted. The only time he'd ever faltered had been during that weird month or so when he and Kurt Hummel had been on and off again faster than anyone could keep track of. But then Blaine and Hummel had apparently called it quits for good, Hummel had left, and Blaine had been back to himself. He'd asked Patrick out, and had never once stopped being the unreserved, demonstrative boy Patrick had wanted to claim for at least a year.

Tuesday night had been... disturbing. Patrick hadn't known what to do with a crying, tortured Blaine. He'd pushed the uncomfortable night out of his mind all too easily the next morning, when Blaine had apologised with a kiss so sweet Patrick would have forgiven him for anything. Tuesday had surely been an anomaly, easily swept aside by the onslaught of wonderful moments that would come with dating Blaine Anderson.

Except there had been no more sweet kisses under a maple tree, or hand holding in the hallways, or really much acknowledgement at all. Blaine seemed to be permanently attached to his phone, rarely writing anything, but continually reading something and checking for messages. He didn't smile unless he thought people were watching. He sat with Patrick in meals but didn't really seem engaged in the conversation, and sometimes Patrick would catch him with this guilty, torn look on his face. Like now - they were supposed to be eating lunch, but Blaine kept sliding out his phone, flicking through something absently, and then giving Patrick that look.

'Blaine?' Patrick asked, putting down his cutlery.

'Yeah?'

'Who are you waiting for a message from?'

'No one in particular.' Blaine tried to smoothly slide his phone back into his pocket without drawing attention to it, but it was too late.

Patrick stiffened. He didn't like the idea he was being lied to; more than that, he really didn't like the idea that Blaine was waiting on anyone except him. 'Alright, how about you tell me why you said you were feeling better on Wednesday when I don't think you are?'

'What?' Blaine seemed genuinely surprised. 'Pat, I'm fine. I haven't felt sick at all since Tuesday.'

Patrick sighed, eyeing off David, who seemed to be heading their way. 'I wasn't talking about your immune system, Blaine. But we have company.' He nodded at David, who was almost at their table.

'Hey, David, what's up?' Blaine asked, charming grin suddenly back in place. Patrick almost felt like doing a double take - Blaine was back to being the Warblers' charismatic front man, but given their topic of conversation, Pat knew that Blaine's cheerfulness had to have been faked this time. And yet, it had been thrown up again so quickly he hadn't even seen Blaine do it.

.... almost like it was second nature to Blaine. Like he put it up so often he didn't even have to think about it.

Another thing that Patrick didn't want to think about.

'Hey guys,' David said, making an effort to include Patrick in his greeting, before turning back to Blaine with a resigned expression on his face, like he knew he was about to be shot down for whatever he was about to ask but felt obligated to try. 'Blaine, some of us are going into Lima this afternoon to see Kurt and the rest of New Directions, to celebrate Kurt's first day back at school. We have a spare seat, so I thought I'd check if you wanted to come.'

Blaine blinked up at David, and then looked down at his pocket, clearly considering the offer. It was hard to say if the shock was more evident on David or Patrick's face, particularly once Blaine finally said, 'Sure; thanks. Catch you outside your dorm at 3:15?'

David nodded dumbly, wandering off to sit next to Wes, where he came to life and started a heated discussion with the other boy, waving his hands around wildly.

Patrick turned back to Blaine, who was idly turning his phone over in his hands. Again. 'Blaine, I thought you said you wouldn't go on any of those visits to Kurt.'

Blaine's head flew up, giving the most immediate reaction Patrick had seen from him in days. 'I never said that. I just said I knew that me seeing him made you uncomfortable.'

'If you know it bugs me, then why are you going?' Patrick mentally slapped himself for the whiny tone of his question. Hell, he almost sounded like a girl.

'Well, it's like I said the other day,' Blaine answered, trying to play causal. 'He was my best friend once, so it only makes sense that I'd still be a bit worried about him.' A shadow of something Patrick didn't want to identify flickered over Blaine's face. It looked all too close to longing. 'And maybe I was... I don't know, a bit too quick to cut him out of my life. Besides, I haven't seen New Directions in ages, and I'd like to hang out with them. They're cool people.'

Blaine had clearly structured his reasons carefully, hoping to divert Patrick's attention away from that terrible little line, oh so revealing, sandwiched in the middle. 'Too quick to cut him out of your life?' Patrick echoed incredulously. 'Blaine, I know you won't tell me what he did, but clearly if he did something bad enough to turn someone as kind as you against him, lightning speed wouldn't be too quick.'

Blaine huffed slightly. 'Why does everyone keep assuming that Kurt did something wrong? He didn't. It was just that we were-'

'-very different people. Yeah, we heard it,' Patrick finished, rolling his eyes. 'Anyway, Blaine, I'm still really not sure about you going to see Kurt.' If you do, I might just never get you back. I wouldn't put it past Hummel to lock you away in his basement forever, Patrick added silently.

'Which, to be honest, Patrick, I'm not really sure I understand,' Blaine said. His expression, always so carefully soft or happy when he looked at Patrick, was slowly turning into a heavy frown. 'You know we were always just friends.'

'Yeah?' Patrick asked, his insecurities rushing to take control in the face of this unfamiliar Blaine. 'Friends often dance together like you two did at the Regionals after party, do they?' Blaine didn't answer, but his hands gripped more tightly at his phone, so Patrick pressed further. 'Where did you guys go that night when you bailed on the party, Blaine?'

Blaine's face was completely unreadable. 'Outside. It was stuffy in the choir room.'

'Into the thunderstorm?' Patrick asked in disbelief. Silence, as Blaine raised his eyebrow as if to say, you're seriously questioning me? 'Well, if you won't give me a straight answer on that, how about you tell me what "storm clouds on snow" means?'

Blaine flinched violently, so much so that his chair jerked back, but he couldn't seem to come up with a response.

Patrick felt a little ill. So many secrets, he thought wildly as the realisation smacked into him. So many things he won't tell me. The memory of Blaine creating a fake cheerfulness for David before flashed across Patrick's thoughts.

'You... You're not the person I was expecting,' Patrick said carefully, studying Blaine for a reaction. He didn't get one, though, nothing like what mentioning "storm clouds on snow" had. 'You're not the person I was expecting,' Patrick repeated, 'and even now, I still don't think I've seen half of who you really are. You're hiding.'

That earned a slight wince and little more, but at least Blaine, usually so articulate, appeared speechless. It was the only real sign Patrick had that what he was saying was hitting home. Patrick stood up, grabbing his bag. 'Well, Blaine, I've been upfront from the start,' he said, starting to get angry. 'You know I like you a lot. But I think I deserve to know who I'm dating, at least, don't I? So you need to stop hiding. Or...'

The besotted boy inside him, who'd been infatuated with Blaine from the moment they'd met, was screaming at Patrick to stop, but he didn't. This was the right thing to do. 'Or we're done.'

He looked down at Blaine's dark head, and feeling reckless, threw out one last demand. He'd win or lose Blaine completely, but at least there would be no more questions. 'And the same goes for seeing Kurt. I know you aren't telling me everything about him, Blaine. And maybe I don't have the right to know everything. But if you value me more than a boy you seemed quite happy to throw out on his ass, you won't go to see him this afternoon.'

Patrick left the dining hall, disappearing into his dorm room which he proceeded to tear to pieces. It only took an hour and a half for him to regret what he'd said. Keeping Blaine Anderson, flawed or not, was still far, far better than losing him. Why on earth had Patrick let his insecurities rule him? He should really go apologise to Blaine for being such a drama queen.

... but something held him back. Well, maybe he would go apologise later. Say, after dinner.

At 3:16, Patrick looked out his dorm room door to see the backs of Blaine and David walking together for the exit.

Because, he answered himself bitterly, slamming the door shut, sometimes my insecurities are smarter than I am.