They cleaned Blaine's locker the very next day, but it seemed that the paint had left a stain on Kurt's mind. Blaine was worried about him. He was quieter than usual, and jumpy. Blaine tried to make him laugh and engage in their conversations, but Kurt would only chuckle a bit before folding back into himself, his eyes darting around every so often like he was watching for someone to pop up out of nowhere.

Blaine knew what it was about, of course. Kurt had told him about his experiences with bullying, and he had shared his in return. They both knew how it felt to be at the receiving end of blind hatred, and they both knew how quickly things could escalate. But as Blaine had repeatedly told Kurt, he wasn't going to run anymore. That wasn't to say that he was going to do something stupid, like go after the jocks—he just wasn't going to let them bother him. And if they came after him in person, well, so much the better. Blaine hadn't taken up boxing for nothing.

But despite Blaine's reassurances that he could take care of himself, Kurt refused to allow himself to be comforted. It was so frustrating, seeing Kurt upset and not being able to calm him down. Since he couldn't alleviate Kurt's fears, he vowed to make sure that Kurt didn't have to worry about him anymore.

And if that meant keeping a couple secrets, then it was worth it. He didn't want Kurt to worry.

It was nothing huge, anyway. It's just… Blaine had noticed things kept going missing. Reports that he knew he had completed would be gone from his backpack the day they were due. When he started keeping homework assignments in his locker to make sure no one could take anything from his locker, they started going missing, too, as did a framed picture of Kurt that Blaine had put up in his locker. He knew that he wasn't just misplacing things, so he couldn't even put it off to a bad memory on his part. No, someone was taking his stuff. The question was, Who? Why did someone want him out of McKinley so badly? What had he done to upset someone this badly? It couldn't just be him being gay, could it? He had tried so hard to fly under the radar; Kurt wouldn't even let him hold his hand if there were people around. So who was coming after him?

The answers to Blaine's questions landed in his locker a week after the paint incident. After Glee club that day, Kurt had gone straight home for Family Game Night. He'd been invited, but Blaine still felt slightly intimated and incredibly embarrassed in Burt's presence, so he'd politely declined. So, he and Kurt had parted ways that afternoon, Kurt heading for his car and Blaine heading for his locker to grab his French book so he could study that night for their finals.

But when he'd grabbed his book, a single sheet of notebook paper had slid out with it, fluttering in the air for a second before Blaine caught it in his fist. He shoved his book in his bag, then slowly unfolded the paper, his fingers shaking in trepidation. The paper only had three words on it, written in the same blood-red scribble that had been used on his locker.

NORTH HALL STAIRCASE.

Blaine turned it over, looking to see if there were any more details on the other side. A name, perhaps, or an ominous message telling him to come alone or else he'd be in trouble. But no, the movies had gotten it wrong once again. Just three words—not even a command, or an instruction, or even a suggestion. Just the three words.

It was as if whoever wrote the note knew that he could bring himself to ignore a challenge, could even convince himself to stay away from a fight if he justified it as sensibility rather than running away… but he could not resist a mystery.

He made the decision in a second. He had to find out who was breaking into his lockers and taking his things, who was targeting him. And some part of him had a feeling that whoever was behind the note was a part of something bigger—namely, Kurt's behavior lately. If there was any way this was connected to Kurt, could possibly start happening to Kurt, then he had to find out who was behind it and stop them.

Which is how he found himself standing at the top of the North Hall Staircase five minutes later, looking around curiously with the crumpled note in his fist.

Blaine wasn't entirely sure what happened next.

He could tell you what he didn't see. He didn't see anyone in that hallway. He didn't see anything he could trip over. He didn't see a single living person around who could have shoved him down those steps, either.

Blaine could tell you what he felt—an pair of hands pressed firmly against his back, the fingers digging into his skin for just a second as they applied the pressure strong enough to send him flying down the stairs, to land at the bottom in a crumpled and unnatural heap.

But Blaine could not tell anyone what he saw just before he fell. He couldn't tell anyone, not even Kurt, about what he had seen in the reflection of a trophy display window to his right. He couldn't tell anyone about the blurry outline of a person he had seen, standing right behind him. A shadow. The shadow of a shadow, really.

No, he couldn't tell anyone about that at all.

"The doctors said I was lucky I landed the way I did, or I might have ended up with a break instead of just a sprain," Blaine said, trying to keep his voice cheerful as he talked to Kurt the next day in the hallway. He hadn't gone to school that day because he had been at the hospital with his mother, but he had convinced her to take him to school after Glee club so he could see Kurt.

"Yes, tumbling down a flight of stairs and nearly cracking your head open is really lucky," Kurt said, his voice tight.

Blaine shrugged uncomfortably. "It was just a few stitches," he muttered. "Not that big a deal."

"Blaine, tripping over your own two feet and hitting a locker isn't a big deal. Falling down a set of stairs and needing stitches and crutches, however, definitely falls under that category." Kurt sighed, his eyes narrowed in frustration. It seemed as if he were angry for some reason, but Blaine wasn't sure who could possibly be the target. He hadn't told Kurt the truth about what had happened the day before. He knew Kurt would think he had hit his head even harder than the doctors thought if he started talking about seeing and feeling people that weren't actually there.

To be honest, he wasn't sure what was happening. He was trying not to think about it too much, but it was clear that something was going on. Blaine wasn't the sort to believe in ghosts, but—

No. No, he wasn't going to go there. He was just tired, and trying to find a target to pin his mistakes on. When he'd needed a psychiatrist after the Sadie Hawkins dance, they'd practiced redirecting his anger into constructive actions. He needed to do that now, with his suspicions and paranoia. There was no use wasting his time trying to blame things that didn't exist. It had been an accident. Just an accident.

"Blaine?"

"Sorry," he apologized, smiling at Kurt. "Spaced out for a second."

"Right." Kurt wasn't smiling back, but was instead staring at a point over Blaine's shoulder. Blaine turned his head, but two hours after school left the hallways empty. He turned back, and suddenly, Kurt was staring at him. "I think you should go home," he said firmly, placing his hands on Blaine's shoulder and nudging him toward the entrance to the school, making Blaine hop ridiculously to avoid using his injured foot.

"Kurt, what— I just got here!" Blaine protested.

"And I'm sure you're tired after your ordeal," Kurt said, nodding rapidly. "You need rest."

"I didn't have a surgery. I think I'm okay. I thought we could hang out?"

"Well—" Kurt hesitated, then reared back up again. "I can't, I have to go straight home. Dad's orders, sorry. He thinks I'm not spending enough time with him, and I'm graduating this year, so, you know…"

"I'll walk you out, then," Blaine said, glancing at Kurt uncertainly. He was acting strange. He'd been moody all week, but now he was being disarmingly manic. Blaine was slightly afraid to leave him alone right now.

"You can't," Kurt said immediately. "I have to go talk to… Mrs. Pierrot about an essay of mine. She only gave me a B and I know I deserved an A. I mean, you know, it's not a huge deal, my French grade is fine, but with finals coming up and everything, I figured I'd rather be safe than sorry, you know?" Kurt babbled.

"Right," Blaine said slowly. "I'll just go, then."

"Great. I'll see you tomorrow." Kurt leaned in and gave Blaine a short peck on the lips. "Be careful, okay?"

Blaine rolled his eyes. "Don't worry, I'll avoid all staircases between the ground floor and my car."

Blaine turned and hobbled toward the door, his movement stilting because of the stupid crutch the doctors had forced him to use. He exited the school and walked a couple steps in the direction of the parking lot, then stopped and turned around.

There was something Kurt wasn't telling him. His boyfriend was somehow wrapped up right in the middle of this mess, and if Kurt wasn't going to tell him what was going on, then Blaine was going to find out himself.

It took shorter than Blaine expected to find Kurt. He just had to follow the sound of hushed but high-pitched words that floated down the hallway from the choir room. What Blaine saw when he looked into the choir room from outside the door confused him. Kurt was standing with his back to the door, staring up near the window. The weird part was that Kurt was talking. Out loud. To thin air.

Blaine couldn't hear what was being said through the closed door, so he carefully leaned his crutch against the wall so he could free his hands. Then he slowly turned the knob of the door, praying it wouldn't creak as he opened the door a crack. But Kurt was in the middle of a sentence, so if there was a noise, he must not have heard it. Blaine opened the door just in time to hear the end of a sentence.

"—almost killed him!" Kurt hissed.

Blaine blinked. Killed who? Who was Kurt even talking to?

"No, just—just stop. I know you're lying. I want you to stay away from Blaine."

Kurt had officially negated the chance of Blaine accepting this as just talking to himself. Kurt was talking to someone… someone who Blaine couldn't see. Telling this someone to stay away from Blaine.

Well. This changed things.

"Clearly," Kurt said, his voice ice-cold. "Yes. Stay away from me, too."

Kurt spun on his feel, then froze when he saw Blaine standing just outside the door. Instead of immediately explaining himself, he shut his eyes tight, then opened them and rapidly walked out of the room, grabbing Blaine's free arm and tossing his crutch to the other, pausing only long enough for Blaine to position the crutch underneath his arm before pulling him along down the hallway.

"What is going on?" Blaine demanded as they speed-walked through the halls.

"Nothing," Kurt answered, his voice high-pitched and falsely cheery. "I was practicing for a scene. You never know when you'll need to be ready for some quick scene-work in an audition. They say to work from what you know, so I pretended you were a character in my scene and somebody was coming between us."

Blaine stared at him. "That was—"

"Yeah, I know, I know." Kurt laughed, but it was too different from Kurt's normal laugh for Blaine to buy it. "It needs work, but you know, that's why I was practicing. Practice makes perfect, after all!"

"Just stop." Blaine turned his hand inside of Kurt's and tugged him to a stop just outside the doors that led outside. "Let's just—can we stop and talk about this?"

Kurt hesitated, looking as if he were torn between wanting to run away and wanting to collapse on the ground. "If I thought telling you would make things better, then I would," he finally said.

"Lies don't help, either, Kurt." Blaine shook his head, trying not to let himself get frustrated. "I know something's going on, okay?"

"Blaine—"

"I saw it, too!" Blaine burst out.

Kurt stared at him. The words seemed to hang in the air between them, until they created a bridge that he could tell Kurt was about to cross.

Then:

"His name is Will."