Kurt was thrilled to see that Blaine was not at his locker Monday morning. He was in a relatively good mood, despite the fact that Uncle Tim had now been unemployed for two weeks, and did nothing but sit in front of the television and drink himself until he either passed out or went to harass Kurt. The cut on his arm should have probably seen a doctor, but it was beginning to heal all right and there was only a fist sized bruise on his stomach that was beginning to turn hideous shades of yellow and green. But being at school and away from everything else caused a slight lift in Kurt's mood. Usually at school he could take a deep breath and just focus on getting through what was left of his high school career and prepare himself for the future. But lately, for some reason, the second he saw Blaine or the second the other boy showed up at his locker, something flickered on inside Kurt. He always felt like running away and the tension between the two boys became palpable, at least for Kurt, though neither of them ever so much as glanced over at the other anymore. Ever since Kurt walked away from Blaine in the bathroom that afternoon, both boys were doing exactly what Blaine had been trying to avoid, wasting effort ignoring the other.

Kurt was well aware that he could easily just be cordial with Blaine while they were at their lockers. He could make small talk about the weather or the terrible food they served in the cafeteria. It had been so long since Kurt had any kind of interaction with a person who seemed to genuinely care about talking to him, that sometimes he actually craved it. But any time he thought about reaching out to Blaine, about accepting the proposal to be 'locker buddies', as absurd as that sounded, he would remember. His cut would sting, or a bully would call him a name as he passed by. Whatever it was, something would always remind him why he kept everyone at a distance; why he kept himself from leaving any track marks in Lima.

The reminder today was the letter in his bag. It was tucked inside a sealed number 10 regular envelope with the Parsons New School for Design logo boldly in the top left hand corner. It weighed almost nothing, but inside Kurt's bag it felt like it had the weight of a boulder. Inside the envelope was his future. It was a yes or a no as to whether or not Kurt got out of Lima on an airplane. Everything he'd been working towards since his dad died all came down to whatever was typed onto that piece of paper.

He hadn't slept much the night before. He'd spent hours just staring at the envelope, knowing that it would only take moments for him to open it and put himself out of his misery. He imagined what the letter would say. "Dear Mr. Hummel," it would start, "We regret to inform you that your application to Parsons New School for Design has been rejected…" The thought of Parsons rejecting him made his heart pound and his skin grown clammy. There wasn't enough money saved to make it in New York without Parsons; there was barely enough to make it with the school and the scholarship. Kurt listened to Uncle Tim's snoring crescendo as he slept in the next room, reminding Kurt of all of the reasons he needed to get to New York and exactly what being rejected would mean for him.

Kurt spent the other part of his sleepless night imagining what it would mean if the letter read a little differently. "Dear Mr. Hummel," it would start, "Congratulations! I am pleased to inform you of your early admission to Parsons New School for Design for the fall semester, 2012." These daydreams caused Kurt's heart to swell and his skin to vibrate with excitement. He imagined first thing he would do was call the admissions office and formally accept his admission. He wondered if he could book his plane ticket eight months in advance. He imagined what it would be like getting off the plane in New York, two bags to his name and a couple hundred dollars in his pocket. Exploring the city wouldn't cost a penny and Kurt imagined that he would spend hours during the summer walking through the city, gaping up at the skyscrapers, learning to call this new place his home. Finally finding one after all those years.

But now, in Lima, the letter sat unopened inside Kurt's bag. He'd find somewhere quiet later that day to open the letter. Uncle's Tim's house already had enough bad memories. If Kurt didn't get in, he didn't want to add another to the list.

Blaine's first competition as male lead of New Directions goes a lot better than he imagined it would.

For starters, they won.

Blaine had only been with them for a couple of months, and when Rachel explained to him that sometimes they were a little…dysfunctional, Blaine just thought that she meant they didn't always get along. And he'd seen it happen a few times during rehearsals; it was common. But what Blaine wasn't prepared for was Santana shouting at Rachel in Spanish. Blaine still wasn't sure what set Santana off, and he had to fight back a smile as Sam, Quinn, and Mike held the Latina back while Rachel stood frozen, silent, and dare he say it, scared. It was both frightening and entertaining to watch.

But the moment Mr. Shuester walked into the room, breaking up the arguments before giving a speech about perseverance and hard work, the dynamic of the entire room changed. Like a switch had been flipped, everyone was focused and moments later everyone was on stage performing as single unit as passionately as they had been just been arguing. The whole thing was so foreign to Blaine. The Warblers had been more relaxed, there was never really any fighting. But by the time they got back on the bus, winners, they were hugging and singing and loving each other like a family. And that was something Blaine was used to.

Blaine sat with Rachel on the way home. While he'd made friends with everyone else in the club, it was Rachel that he felt the closest to despite their slightly over the top introduction. She placed her head on his shoulder as the bus traveled back toward McKinley.

"Why do all the best guys in my life turn out to love other boys?" Rachel asked.

Blaine laughed, "I don't love any boys."

"You know what I mean," Rachel said snuggling closer to Blaine, "You two would make a lovely couple."

"Who?" Blaine said turning his head down to look at Rachel.

"Kurt, silly," Rachel said looking not at Blaine but at nothing in front of her, the tears filling her eyes, "Your personalities really complement each other."

"You're ruining our celebration with your tears," Blaine said playfully nudging Rachel with his shoulder, ignoring her comments.

"I'd give it all up if Kurt were back here with us," Rachel said and Blaine could hear the crack in her voice.

"Kurt was in Glee?" Blaine questioned. He knew little about Kurt but he never pegged him for a performer.

"Yep," Rachel said looking up at Blaine, "He sings like an angel. His passion is fashion, but he was my only real competition in this club."

"But now you've got me," Blaine said as a miserable attempt to find the silver lining in Rachel's heartbreak.

"Now, I've got you," Rachel said wrapping her arms around Blaine's bicep and pressing her face into his shirt.

"I know you miss him," Blaine said pressing his cheek to the top of Rachel's head.

"Sometimes," Rachel said wiping away the single tear that had fallen down her cheek, "When I see him I miss him. When I want to watch Funny Girl for the one thousandth time and Mercedes won't watch with me, I miss him. Sometimes I forget I used to have a best friend named Kurt Hummel. But then I remember and it's like I've lost him all over again."

"Do you think you'll ever stop missing him all together?"

Rachel sighed, "Next year I'll be in New York. I have no idea where he'll be, but I like to think it'll be easier to forget him if the memory of him gets lost in a crowd of a million New Yorkers."

They're both quiet after that tucked into their seat together as the rest of New Directions started a Disney sing-a-long in the front of the bus.

Kurt wasn't exactly sure what brought him to the auditorium. He'd come during lunch and sat on the lip of the stage, his feet dangling over the edge. He sat there, leaning back on his hands, looking around at the empty auditorium. The space was nothing more than an empty stage and empty chairs, but there were so many memories swirling around him. Maybe that was what brought Kurt there in the first place. Part of it was the quiet, solitude that it provided. But the other part, was because it had once been a home to Kurt, a place he felt safe.

He'd joined New Directions his freshman year at Rachel's insistence, and for the almost two years that Kurt was part of the group, he'd spent countless hours standing on the currently barren stage. Even before everything started getting bad with Uncle Tim, Kurt had felt like he'd lost the last of his family when his dad died. Uncle Tim wasn't the most affectionate of people and he'd barely known him before he gained custody of Kurt, so Kurt always felt like Uncle Tim was more of a babysitter than a member, the only living member, of his family. By the time New Directions had made it through their first sectionals competition, Kurt felt it. He could feel that the twelve of them had quickly become a family, his family.

But things had changed. Kurt pushed away the heavy feeling in his chest and focused on why he'd gone into the auditorium in the first place. There were less than two hundred days left until he could escape, until Lima became nothing more than a distant memory and there was not a single thing that could make him look back. But first he had to open the letter.

Kurt sat up and grabbed his school bag that had been sitting next to him. He reached inside and pulled out the envelope that had been sitting in there since morning, taunting him. He held the envelope in his hands for a moment, studying it. He recited wishes over and over in his head. Wishes that something inside the letter would shine just a bit of light on his future. He wished that inside was acceptance from the college of his dreams. He wished for the contents of the letter to carry him out of Lima.

Kurt ripped at the seal not carrying that the paper of the envelope's once smooth edges now were ragged and in pieces. He pulled the letter out carefully, took a deep breath and unfolded the trifold page.

"Dear Mr. Hummel," it began, "Thank you for applying to Parsons New School of Design. The Admissions Committee has reviewed all applicants and we regret that we are unable to offer you admission at this time. However, given your impressive portfolio we would like to offer you a place on our waiting list."

Kurt read the words over and over, trying to figure out exactly what they meant. He'd only ever considered the answer from Parsons to be yes or no. He'd never even thought about the kind of, sort of, maybe response he'd gotten. All he needed now was someone to pass up the chance to go to Parsons. And only an idiot would pass up admission into Parsons; they might as well have told him no. But the words 'waiting list' gave the slightest bit of hope. Like maybe someone would get hit by a bus and then the spot would be open. Like there was some person out there who had to make the biggest mistake of their lives, just so that Kurt could take the only chance he had at making something of himself.

Kurt took a deep breath, blowing it out his lips. There was nothing to celebrate over, but he kept his emotions neutral. There was nothing more he could do but wait. His future was now out of his control. Kurt stood up as he heard the bell ringing outside the auditorium walls. He'd just go on like he planned. Get through the school year and then he'd be out of there one way or another. He'd just have to wait a little longer until he figured it out for sure.

Kurt pulled himself up off the stage floor, the letter from Parsons still in his hand. Just as he turned around, he heard the soft tap of shoes against the hardwood floors of the stage and humming coming from somewhere behind the giant red curtain. Kurt froze for a moment, and then relaxed when he recognized the head of perfectly gelled hair. It was Blaine. The familiar feeling to run washed over Kurt as Blaine turned around and noticed him, shocked to see the other boy, but with a kind smile on his face. Something unfamiliar replaced Kurt's flight instinct. It was new and it terrified Kurt. So he chose to ignore it.

"Hi," Blaine said taking a few steps closer to Kurt, "What are you doing here?"

Kurt bit down on his bottom lip, silent, but looking Blaine in the eyes. They're an enchanting hazel and Kurt feels immediately that they are accepting. That even though Kurt has spent the last two and a half months trying to avoid Blaine, Blaine was still willing to engage Kurt in a conversation with only a hint of hostility and the kindest eyes. A moment later there was a flash of rejection in those same eyes.

"Right," Blaine said turning around. Kurt wasn't going to give in at all.

"Sorry," Kurt muttered, a red hue spreading through his cheeks from his guilt. Blaine turned back around to look at the boy. Kurt was surprised at how easy it was despite the awkwardness and the fact that Kurt had obviously just hurt Blaine's feelings, Blaine's eyes remained unchanged. Kurt took a deep breath, "I came here to hide from all the noise out there. It's peaceful in here. "

"It is," Blaine said. When Kurt didn't show any further signs of avoidance, Blaine asked a question, "What are you hiding from?"

"Everything," Kurt answered after a moment, shrugging his shoulders "I just needed some place no one would find me."

"I found you," Blaine said.

And maybe that was Kurt's biggest problem with Blaine. Kurt had been perfectly content with getting lost in the crowd of self-involved teenagers. Kurt was fine that the only attention he managed to get were from giant jocks who got bored when Kurt refused to play their game; to feed their egos by showing any sort of emotion. Getting lost in the crowd was what Kurt had wanted, he'd planned for it. This was the way he wanted it to be, at least until he got to New York. When he got there the sky was the limit, but until then he could still be himself, just by himself.

"Yes, but you always keep showing up when all I want is for you to disappear," Kurt said bitterly.

"I'm sorry," Blaine said.

"Look Blaine," Kurt said, "I know you probably think that I'm the rudest person on the planet. But there are a lot of things that you don't know about me. Thank you for being so kind, but I'm just not interested in what you're trying to do."

Blaine wasn't sure what the right words were to respond to that, but he noticed the envelope in Kurt's hand and looking up at Kurt, "Parsons?"

"Wha-," Kurt started before noticing Blaine gesturing at the envelope in Kurt's hand, "Oh. I applied for early admission."

"Did you get in?" Blaine asked.

"Wait listed," Kurt said simply; like it wasn't the most important decision that someone else ever made regarding his life.

"Oh, that sucks. Good luck, but that's what back up plans are for right?" Blaine commented oblivious.

"Yeah," Kurt said softly.

"Uh," Blaine said looking around, "Rachel will be here any second. We're rehearsing for regionals during lunch."

"Weren't sectionals just this past weekend?"

"Well Rachel's really…" Blaine said pausing for moment to find the right word.

"Intense," Kurt said. He knew his former best friend more than anyone.

"Definitely," Blaine said laughing.

Before Kurt could think about it, the corners of his mouth were being pulled upward slightly into the most Blaine had ever seen him smile. It was like Blaine was seeing a whole different person. As if the slightest smile had transformed Kurt from the boy he was now, to the best friend Rachel had told Blaine of. There was a hint of a sparkle, a fire from somewhere within, inside Kurt's eye. And then Rachel was calling for Blaine somewhere backstage, and then suddenly it was gone. It was as if the glimpse of the fire that burned inside Kurt had been drenched by the sound of the tiny brunette's voice.

"I'll see you later," Kurt said, scolding himself for it a moment later as he walked swiftly from the auditorium before Rachel had a chance to see him.

Friday afternoon Blaine was at his locker between classes. All he needed to do was get through Chemistry, and then English and then he could head home. There was a small group of New Directions members who were going to the movies and then out to Breadstix and Blaine was looking forward to it. Blaine had just shut his locker, spinning the dial to secure the lock, when Kurt walked up to the locker beside his. Kurt had been absent from school the day before and they hadn't been at their lockers at the same time all day. Blaine glanced over at Kurt; taking in how tired the boy looked; as if even a day at home hadn't given him a chance to rest. There was a slight puffiness underneath his eyes.

"You weren't here yesterday," Blaine said. It was a statement but Kurt could hear the million questions buried inside it. Why weren't you here? Are you alright?

Kurt looked at Blaine as if to say 'obviously', but didn't say a word. He had stayed home from school the day before, calling himself in by dropping his voice about an octave and staying locked in his room the entire day. Wednesday had been a particularly bad day with Uncle Tim. Kurt was greeted his very angry Uncle when he returned home from school. The older man had had a job interview that afternoon and Kurt assumed it hadn't gone well because Uncle Tim was angry; and once again, it was all Kurt's fault. As far as bad days could go, this one was mild. There were a couple of bruises hidden beneath Kurt's layers of clothing, but Uncle Tim had managed a forceful slap across Kurt's cheek. It was much easier to hide red marks than bruises with concealer, but Kurt really wasn't prepared for the questions, specifically Blaine's questions, if he showed up to school with a slightly swollen face.

"So," Blaine continued despite Kurt's silence, "I figured I would tell you now instead of you finding out later; but we've been paired together for the English assignment."

"What English assignment?" Kurt asked panicked.

"The one that was assigned yesterday while you weren't here."

"Oh," Kurt responded, "And you didn't pair with anyone else?"

Blaine shrugged, "No one wants to partner with the new kid."

Kurt sighed.

"I know this isn't ideal for you," Blaine said, "And I heard what you said the other day in the auditorium. But we've got to do this."

After a moment of silence Kurt looked at Blaine, "Fine. I'm tired of trying to convince you that I'm an asshole, because it's clearly not working."

Blaine smiled proudly.

"But that's all this is going to be," Kurt said gesturing with his pointer finger between himself and Blaine, "A working relationship that will dissolve as soon as the project is turned in. And then I promise not to act like such a jerk when we're at our lockers."

Blaine smiled, "Deal. So you're house or mine?"

Kurt realized then that staying out later after school meant there would be a greater chance of Uncle Tim being drunk or angry when he returned home. Maybe he could sneak in his window and convince Uncle Tim that he'd been home all along and he never saw him. Kurt had the entire weekend to figure that out.

"The Lima Bean," Kurt said thinking of the first meeting place he could think of that was close to home, "or the library. It's your choice but The Lima Bean has much better coffee."

"Lima Bean it is. Start Monday after school?"

Kurt nodded despite the fact that he had no idea how he was going to pull it off. It was quite possible that an A on this assignment was going to cost him more than the passing grade was worth, but he knew that he didn't have a choice, it was Blaine's grade too. The warning bell rang pulling Kurt from his frantic thoughts and back towards Blaine who was smiling like always.

"I'll see you in class," Blaine said before following merging into the sea of students who were moving frantically down the hallway towards class.

Kurt stood still next to his locker, his mind racing so fast he could hardly keep up. But the more he thought about it, the more he realized that he would just have to deal with it like he'd done everything else in the last year and a half; face it head on. And countdown the days until he could escape.