For once in Kurt's life, everything was perfect. His grades had never been better, he had an incredibly attractive boyfriend who he was head-over-heels for, and he was reconnecting with his friends in Glee club now that he had stopped being jealous of their relationships. It seemed silly, now that he was so happy, to think that he had ever been moody for such silly reasons. Blaine was so optimistic and cheerful all the time that it was hard to imagine a reason to not be as joyous as he was to be alive. But he supposed that was life—never knowing what was coming until it had arrived. He was glad that Blaine had been in his stars.

Yes, everything was perfect. So why did he feel so uneasy?

He thought he could pinpoint the beginning of his anxiety to the conversation he'd had with Blaine the week after their first date last month. Kurt had asked Blaine if he'd wanted to get together after school to practice the ridiculous choreography that Mr. Schue had thrown at them that week, and Blaine had agreed. Nothing unusual. It was the comment Blaine had made afterward that had thrown him off. "Just watch out for my two left feet!" Blaine had warned, his eyes crinkling at the corners as he laughed. "I've been tripping over everything lately!"

Kurt had begun to notice it more and more after Blaine mentioned it. He stumbled during easy routines in Glee club, messing up basic moves that normally he could master within minutes.

It happened in the halls, too, when they were walking together. They'd be chatting about something, walking at a slow pace, and out of nowhere, Blaine would lurch to the side, almost running into someone walking past. Once, he had slammed into a locker to his left so hard that Kurt had found bruises on his shoulder later that night. Blaine brushed off Kurt's concern every time it happened—and it had been happening more and more often lately—but after he had laughed and attributed it to being tired or not watching where he was going, Blaine would look behind him when he thought Kurt wasn't watching, a puzzled look on his face. As if he was shoved. But there was no one around to blame. No one they could see, at least.

Kurt didn't want to think about what it could be—or who it could be. He didn't want to jump to conclusions, but his mind was stuck on the only possibility that made sense.

He'd only seen Will once since he and Blaine had gotten together. It had been right after Glee club when he'd felt that same peculiar sense of being watched. He didn't want to draw attention to it, especially not with Blaine sitting right next to him. The last thing he needed was for Blaine to find out that he was seeing a ghost. So he'd waited until after Glee club, when he and Blaine were in the parking lot, before telling Blaine that he'd forgotten something in the choir room and darting back inside. Will was sitting—or floating just above, at least—the chair that Blaine had occupied just minutes ago, as if he had been there the whole time.

Their conversation had been uncomfortable, to say the least.

"Will!" Kurt wasn't as surprised as his tone let on. He had become better at sensing when Will was around by the telltale tickling at the back of his neck.

"Kurt." Will jerked his head upward in a sharp nod, then stared down at the floor.

Kurt was stung by his cold greeting. Will seemed upset, but he didn't deserve to be. Kurt was the one who had been lied to, not Will. He was the one who had the right to be angry right now. "Where have you been the past couple weeks?" Kurt asked. He debated sitting down next to Will, but decided against it. He wasn't planning on staying long—just long enough to get some answers.

Will looked up, locking eyes with Kurt's, his frown reaching the icy gray color of his eyes. "I come and go where I'm needed," he retorted, stressing the last word and shooting an accusatory glare at Kurt. "So it's really no surprise that you haven't seen me around lately."

There was a pain underneath the anger in Will's voice, and Kurt's first instinct was to do what he did when Blaine was upset—wrap him in his arms and hold him until he forgot about the hurt. But this was Will, not Blaine. He couldn't hold Will, couldn't help Will. He needed to remember that.

"Will." Kurt shook his head and sighed. It was too hard to hold on to his anger. He had thought he was upset with Will, but it was like he didn't have room inside him for stupid things like that anymore. "Why did you lie to me about Blaine?"

Will shrugged. "Honest mistake."

"Come on, Will—"

"I must have mistaken him for someone else," Will insisted, meeting Kurt's gaze obstinately. "There are a lot of scrawny guys around this school. Must have been someone else." He flashed a cold smile. "Oops."

"Blaine isn't scrawny," Kurt defended automatically."

"Been feeling him up, then?" Will smirked. "Figures. He seems like the easy type."

"Shut up," Kurt snapped, feeling something growing inside him that hadn't been there recently. There it is. Anger. Will had brought it out in him again, and Kurt hated him for that. He knew Will was just baiting him, trying to get him to forget about his bullshit cover story of mistaking Blaine for someone else, but he couldn't help but rise to the provocation. If he ever had a sore spot, it was people hurting Blaine. "You don't know anything about Blaine, or what I have with him. And if you're just going to spend your time lying to me, then maybe we shouldn't be friends until you grow up a bit."

Will looked away, his previous bravado gone. "I don't really have that luxury anymore."

Kurt pursed his lips, his resolve crumbling. "Look," he began, then heaved a tired sigh. "I'm sorry. I didn't think."

Will ran his fingers through his hair, the thin locks barely visible with the light shining in through the choir room's windows. "I'm sorry, too," he said sincerely, staring up at Kurt. "I'm just—I'm worried that you're not going to want to be friends with me now that you have—someone else," he said, his mouth tightening slightly.

"Of course I still want to spend time with you, Will. You're still my best friend," Kurt assured him, stepping forward and sitting on the seat next to him.

"You haven't come looking for me lately," Will said, his voice small.

"I know." Kurt wished he could gather Will up in his arms, wished he could show him that he still cared about him. But they both knew that was impossible. "I'm sorry, I've just been really busy with—" He stopped abruptly at the sour expression that had grown on Will's face.

"Blaine," Will supplied, his lip curled.

"Well, yes." Kurt rubbed his temple, frustrated. "Listen to me. I love Blaine, okay? As long as he's around, you're going to have to deal with sharing me."

Will, to Kurt's surprise, didn't rare up again, but instead adopted a strangely calculating look. "As long as Blaine's around…" he repeated to himself, his voice quiet, like he'd forgotten Kurt was there.

Kurt felt cold suddenly as a chill ran down his back. He didn't know why, but something about Will's expression, his tone... worried him. "Will?"

Will stood up and drifted to the window. "You won't be seeing me around much, then," he said quietly, facing the wall rather than Kurt. "As long as Blaine's around." He flickered, then disappeared through the window.

Kurt sat there frozen for a second, then stood and scrambled over to the window. But when he looked through it, all he saw was a cluster of leaves floating in the wind. A peculiar, rusty smell lingered in the room, one that hadn't been there previously—a smell that Kurt was familiar to Kurt, but not in a good way. He might have been able to place it if he weren't so preoccupied with Will's parting words.

Blaine. Blaine was waiting for him in the parking lot. As long as Blaine was around, things would be okay.

"A penny for your thoughts?"

Kurt blinked, shaking himself out of the memory. Blaine was standing in front of him, a hand reached out to pull him up from his usual seat in the choir room. Kurt was struck by how similar Blaine and Will looked—they had the same unruly hair, though Blaine made efforts to contain his whereas Will let his fly about in a devil-may-care sort of fashion. Their main difference was in their eyes, though. Blaine's were brightly alive in a way that Will's could never be.

"Kurt?" Blaine's smile faltered.

Kurt smiled up at him, grabbing his hand and allowing Blaine to pull him to his feet. "My thoughts are worth at least a quarter," he replied as they left the choir room and began the walk through the hallways to their lockers.

"It's a steep price, but I think I can afford it," Blaine said, fishing a quarter out of his pocket and holding it out.

Kurt forced a laugh. "Rain-check?" He barely registered Blaine nodding beside him. His eyes were focused on the set of lockers down the hall—Blaine's locker, in particular, which had angry red lettering spray-painted across its metal surface.

Next to him, Blaine was squinting down at the row of lockers, too. "What does that—"

Kurt let go of Blaine's hand and sprinted down the hall, leaving Blaine shouting something behind him. He stopped in front of Blaine's locker, where the word "LEAVE" had been scrawled sloppily in bright red paint. Kurt gasped, inhaling the suffocating smell of fresh paint and… blood?

That was the smell. He realized now what it was that he had smelled the previous week, when Will had left him in the choir room. Blood.

He lifted a trembling hand to the locker and pressed his finger against it, smearing the paint on his finger and bringing it up to his nose. He closed his eyes and cautiously sniffed it, sighing in relief when the only smell that reached his nose was the sharp odor of paint.

He heard the slapping of footsteps slowing down behind him, then felt Blaine next to him, breathing hard. "What was that about?"

Kurt stared at the paint, his mind racing. It could've been anyone, really, but there was only one person that it was. Will.

"Kurt?" Blaine turned him so he was facing him rather than the lockers. His eyes were full of concern. But not for himself, never for himself. Just for Kurt. "Kurt, are you okay?"

Kurt shook his head mutely. How could it have been Will? Will couldn't even become solid, let alone start picking things like paintbrushes up. Maybe he had spoken to a student and convinced them to do it.

"Kurt, it's okay," Blaine said, still staring into his eyes, not aware of the mental battle he was having. "It's just Azimio and his cronies being stupid. We'll tell the principal, and they'll wash it out. No harm, no foul."

Kurt nodded, letting Blaine interlace their fingers and lead him away and out to the parking lot, then into his car. He didn't speak on the ride home, instead letting Blaine fill up the silence with inane chatter about Katy Perry's newest album. He had other things on his mind.

It couldn't have been Will. Will had been bullied, literally to death. Why would he then turn around and bully Blaine? It didn't make sense. Was he a terrible person to even think that about Will? Will, who had been nothing but a friend to him ever since they had met? It couldn't be him.

As long as Blaine's around… the smell of blood…

Kurt resolved to keep a closer eye on Blaine.

Just in case.