My name is Blaine Anderson.

No.

—Blaine Anderson, and—

How?

I’m auditioning for Fiyero.

Kurt didn’t want to turn around. He didn’t want to see what he knew was the truth, didn’t want to face the confusion that was standing on a stage behind him. He knew that voice, and he knew that name, but they didn’t match up. Maybe his brain was confused. Maybe not. But he couldn’t turn around, because this wasn’t happening. If he didn’t turn, if he didn’t admit what he already knew, then it couldn’t be true.

“Kurt?”

Kurt looked up, blinking slowly until his vision cleared. Susan Hilferty was standing in front of him, concern etched over her face.

“Are you okay?”

He nodded, then shook his head, then shrugged. Was he okay? He had no idea. He just didn’t want to turn around. He didn’t like not knowing why things were happening. If he just didn’t turn around…

“Come on, let’s sit you down.” Susan wrapped her hand around Kurt’s arm, squeezing him gently. He knew she meant to be a comforting presence, but instead she was the source of his confinement. He opened his mouth to tell her no, he didn’t want to sit down, he just wanted to leave; but his voice refused to obey him. He didn’t struggle as she led him back to his seat and took a seat next to him.

Kurt looked up at the stage instinctively, his eyes glued to the small man who was standing center stage, handing sheet music to the accompanist.

There was nothing for it. There was no way to deny the truth that was flaunting itself before his very eyes.

The Blaine that he had kissed, the Blaine who was a waiter a singer a Warbler a lawyer and so many things besides… that Blaine was Blaine Anderson. That Blaine was standing on a stage in front of him, preparing to audition for Wicked, and his name was Blaine Anderson.

The more he repeated it to himself, the less it made sense. Because who, then, was the Blaine Anderson he had gone on a blind date with? Who had that been? They weren’t the same people, obviously, but how was it possible that he had been in Cooper’s with two guys with the same unusual name? But now that he thought about it, extraneous strands of information that he had overlooked before were floating in the forefront of his mind.

Rachel had been so shocked when Kurt had told him that the Blaine he had dated had been a total jerk. She had seemed suspicious even. She’d wondered why Blaine Anderson would act one way toward her, and then entirely different to Kurt. And then there was that weird phone call she had made just last Friday, interrogating him about both Blaines…

When Kurt had drinks with his Blaine, Blaine had mentioned that he was supposed to date a Kurt. What was it exactly that he had said? I almost dated a Kurt. He’d said that he had been stood up. What if... Was it possible that he had been the one to stand Blaine up?

No. No. He didn’t understand what that would mean, what those implications led to. It was better to not think about them now, or he would go crazy trying to figure out what was happening.

Onstage, Blaine had just started singing. He had chosen to sing As Long As You’re Mine, and he hit all the notes, but he was visibly nervous. He was staring slightly downward, like he wanted to disappear underground, and his voice was small and timid. He looked lost, like he had just walked outdoors that morning and found himself at a casting call with no recollection of the journey over.
Kurt had to wonder what he was doing here in the first place. How had he found out about this? On Friday, Blaine had given Kurt the impression that singing wasn’t his passion anymore. Kurt could tell he’d been lying, but Blaine had been adamant about the fact that he was only singing because his brother had made him. What had caused the quick turnaround?

Kurt found his eyes trained on Blaine as he sang, trying mentally to encourage him to look up at the audience, to master the nerves that were occasionally shaking his voice. He wanted Blaine to succeed. He wanted to see Blaine smile like he had the year before; he wanted to see his eyes light up and that grin break over his face.

Blaine finished the song anticlimactically, and Kurt somehow knew, instinctively, that he hadn’t gotten the part. Blaine nodded once, almost as if he was telling himself the very same thing, then said, “Thank you,” and turned to exit the stage.

“Wait.”

Kurt turned, surprised to see Susan standing up next to him, a calculating look brewing in her features.

The director, an easygoing man by the name of David Thorton, looked back, raising his eyebrows at Susan. “Yes?”

Susan didn’t even spare him a glance. She was looking at Blaine, who had stopped halfway off the stage and was staring back at her, his eyes wide. Susan tilted her head slightly as she considered him, and then smiled. “Can you sing Dancing Through Life?”

Blaine nodded quickly, then glanced at the director as if he were looking for permission. Thorton shrugged, then turned and looked back at Susan, who ignored him in favor of giving Blaine an encouraging nod. She gestured for Blaine to take center stage again, then sat down and flashed a wink at Kurt, who could do nothing but turn back to the stage, bewildered.

Blaine didn’t begin to sing immediately. Instead, he bent his head, almost as if he were praying. Now that he thought about it, Kurt realized he didn’t know whether or not Blaine was religious. He added it to a mental list of things to ask Blaine when he got the chance.

Blaine took a few more seconds to himself, then nodded to the pianist and began singing, his voice quiet for the first verse, but gaining in intensity and strength the longer he sang. Kurt felt his hands unclenching from their fisted position on his lap as he sat back and enjoyed the song. Blaine’s voice was smoother now, more relaxed. He moved around more than he had with the first song, adding in little pirouettes and impromptu sidesteps that made the director chuckle.

Kurt himself could only grin as he watched Blaine revert back to the expressive performances he gave as a Warbler. He looked younger like this, prancing around on the stage with a carefree abandon. It was amazing how different he was compared to the man who had sung just minutes before. This performance was infinitely better, despite Blaine messing up the lyrics a couple times. It was an observation that Kurt found was proving itself true every time he saw Blaine—the imperfections were what made Blaine who he was, and the fact that he persevered regardless of his mistakes gave him his charm.

Blaine finished his portion of the song and left the stage to a handful of applause—more applause, Kurt noted, than he usually got at Cooper’s. It gave him hope that the directors, too, wanted Blaine to succeed. It was a natural quality of his. Just by existing, he made people root for him to end out on top. Kurt only hoped that was enough to get him the part.

Kurt turned to Susan, a grateful smile on his face. “Thank you,” he said, trying to infuse the words with as much gratitude as possible. “For giving him a second chance.”

Susan nodded and stretched her feet out in front of her. “Oh, no problem,” she said, turning a mischievous grin on Kurt. “I could tell your boyfriend was pretty good already. He just needed some room to shine. You’re lucky those fools down there—” and she pointed to Thornton and the producer, whose heads were bent together in what looked like an intense conversation— “know who has the brains around here.”

Kurt’s brain had only processed one word. “Boyfriend?” he squeaked. “No, it’s not—he’s not—Blaine and I don’t really know each other all that well. We’re not… boyfriends.” He wasn’t sure why the word was so difficult to say.

Susan raised her eyebrows, her lips turned upwards in a smirk. “No? Well, if you two aren’t dating, you certainly have some unfinished business to work out.”
Kurt shook his head and opened his mouth to deny it, but Susan continued before he had the chance.

“Look, Hummel,” she said, her playful tone disappearing as quickly as her smile. “I know what it’s like when you’re young and talented and you meet a guy who’s just as unique as you are. I’ve seen it a million times. But can I give you some advice?”

Kurt nodded mutely.

“Don’t let it distract you.” Susan stared at him for a second longer until he nodded again, color burning his cheeks. She nodded, too, seemingly satisfied, then turned her attention to the Mary Poppins’ sized purse on her lap. She produced a sketchpad from somewhere deep within the bag and flipped to an empty page.

Kurt took this as his cue to leave. He stood up, not bothering to be discreet since there seemed to be a lull onstage while they waited for the next Fiyero audition.

“Oh!” Susan stopped her sketching and looked back up at Kurt like she had just remembered something.

Kurt paused, not sure whether he was being addressed or not. His boss had a habit of living in her own world but vocalizing her daydreams just to make sure they could be made a reality. Half the time, he wasn’t even expected to respond. “Yes?”

Susan shook her head at him, a conspiratorial smile upon her face. “Remember how I told you not to let that boy distract you?”

“Yeah…?” Kurt wasn’t sure what approach she was going for with this.

“Don’t you dare give up on him.” She appraised him, her eyes twinkling. “You look at him like he’s the only one in your world. So don’t you give up on him, and don’t you give up on that feeling. Got it?”

Kurt nodded, his cheeks burning. “I’ll keep that in mind.”

“Now run along, Hummel,” she told him, waggling her fingers and turning back to her sketchpad. “I believe there’s a slightly hysterical young woman waiting for you outside of this room.”

“Thanks, Susan,” Kurt mumbled, feeling more than a little mortified his apparent transparency. He scurried out of the theater and almost bumped straight into Rachel, who was indeed waiting just outside and was indeed hysterical.

“Kurt!” She grasped him by the shoulders and gave what sounded like a cross between a giggle and a scream. “How did I do? Was I okay? I think I messed up the second verse— you heard it, didn’t you? When the pianist started before me? I told him before that I wanted a measure of rest there to add to the dramatics of the scene, but he didn’t listen.” She paused to take a breath, an indignant look on her face. “And do you know what one of the other Elphaba hopefuls said to me right before I came out to audition? ‘Don’t choke.’ Can you believe that? Just because she heard I’ve never been in a professional show before, she thinks she can look down on me. Well, I’ll show her. I’ll show all of them.”

Rachel fell silent and stared off into the distance somewhere over Kurt’s shoulder, her eyes narrowed in determination, so Kurt took the opportunity to grab her arm and lead her out of the theater. Neither of them needed to be there anymore. Rachel would start hyperventilating or go on the attack if she saw any other auditionees, and Kurt had no wish to see Blaine again until he knew the truth about who he really was.

Kurt decided to put off that particular order of business for that night. He didn’t want to ruin Rachel’s night, and anyway, she didn’t seem very eager to discuss anything but her audition, her competition, and the rehearsal schedule she’d be facing when— not if, as she had promptly corrected Kurt, a fierce look on her face— she got the role.

So, it wasn’t until the next night that he brought up the subject of Blaine. They were sprawled on the couch, their legs tangled together as they ate takeout Chinese food from the cheap place down the block and watched Moulin Rouge. Kurt picked up the remote control and paused the movie, chewing the food in his mouth languidly as he worked over how to begin. Maybe coming straight out with it was the best idea.

“Rach,” he began, tucking his legs underneath him and turning to face her, “do you know who was at the audition yesterday?”

Rachel paled, her eyes wide. “Oh god… please tell me it wasn’t anyone important. If they saw how badly I messed up—”

“You were fine,” Kurt replied automatically, his voice having lost most of the sincerity it had been able to retain yesterday when she had repeatedly criticized her performance for two hours. “No, not anyone important. Well, I mean, not…” he trailed off.

“Who was it?” Rachel asked, a bit too impatiently, in Kurt’s opinion, for a woman who had interrupted his work no less than twenty-three times the night before to ask him yet again if he thought she had done well.

“Blaine Anderson,” Kurt said, watching Rachel carefully to see her reaction to his words. He hadn’t expected her to be surprised at the revelation, but it still hurt when she just looked at him, her expression guarded. He had been right. She was a part of whatever was going on.

“Really?” Rachel asked, her voice neutral. She looked down at her carton of food and poked holes in the Styrofoam container with her fork.

“Yes,” Kurt said, glaring at her. “And don’t say ‘really’ like you didn’t know he was going to be there.”

“I didn’t!” Rachel protested, finally turning to look Kurt in the eye. “I swear I didn’t! I mean, I invited him, but he acted like he wasn’t going to come. I didn’t even see him backstage.”

“Wait, you invited him?” Kurt shook his head in frustration. “Explain everything.”
Rachel opened her mouth, then stopped, looking conflicted.

“What?” Kurt demanded.

“I— I can’t,” Rachel said, looking at him apologetically.

“You can’t,” Kurt repeated flatly.

Rachel bit her lip. “I’m sorry. Oh, I hate this,” she groaned.

“Rachel, you are about ten seconds away from finding a new roommate and best friend.”

She sighed. “Kurt, I promised I wouldn’t tell you.”

Kurt fixed her with his best bitch-face. “You promised who?”

She hesitated, rubbing her eyes wearily and taking another bite of food. “Blaine Anderson,” she told him, chewing around the food.

“Of course.” Kurt looked up at the ceiling, hoping to find the answers written across in bold paint. But nothing was ever that easy. “So, you’re keeping promises for Blaine Anderson, but you can hardly be bothered to keep plans with me for the past year?”

Rachel swallowed, looking stricken. “Kurt, please don’t be mad. I would tell you if I could—

Kurt laughed, the sound entirely mirthless. “You can tell me, Rachel. Blaine’s not holding a knife to your throat and forcing you to keep quiet. This is completely your choice. I just can’t believe you’re choosing to be loyal to a guy you just met, but you’ve been lying to your best friend since last year.”

“I haven’t been lying,” Rachel said, her eyes shining with anticipatory tears. “I didn’t even know who he was until last week! I just— I promised, Kurt. It’s nothing bad, I swear. I just can’t be the one to tell you.”

Kurt ground his teeth, biting back words that he knew he would regret later if he allowed them to fly forth. He stood up from the couch abruptly, grabbing his abandoned food and moving to the kitchen to deposit it in the trash.

“Where are you going?” Rachel asked from the couch, her voice small.

“My room,” Kurt answered shortly, not even looking at her as he passed back into the living room on his way to his room. “I want to be by myself.”

If Rachel answered, he didn’t hear her. He had already made it to his room and closed the door, a little harder than he normally would have. He sat on the bed, fuming for a moment, then stood up and paced the length of his room, thinking. His mind was going around in circles. He didn’t understand. He didn’t understand what had happened with Blaine, and he didn’t understand why Rachel was choosing a virtual stranger over him.

Kurt stopped in his tracks, a realization hitting him all at once. He didn’t understand… but he knew someone who did, someone who, if his memory served him correctly, didn’t hold up to things like loyalty as strictly as Rachel did. Santana Lopez. She was on the inside, she knew Blaine, she could tell him what the hell was happening.

Kurt dug his cell phone out of his pocket and scrolled through his contacts, thumbing the call icon next to Santana’s name. He lay down on his bed, letting his feet dangle off the side. The phone rang only once before the call was picked up.

“Hummel,” Santana answered, by way of a greeting.

“Santana,” Kurt said, relieved. “You’re not busy, are you?”

“Nope, you caught me at a good time. I’ve got the night off. You finally calling to collect on that coffee date we rain-checked?”

“Not this time,” Kurt replied, feeling guilty about his completely selfish reasons for calling. He made a mental note to schedule coffee with Santana into his upcoming week.

“What is it, then?”

“What can you tell me about Blaine Anderson?”

There was such a long pause that Kurt checked to make sure she hadn’t accidentally hit the ‘end call’ button.

“Anderson, huh?” she asked finally, her voice a prolonged sigh.

“He showed up at the Wicked auditions today,” Kurt explained.

“Did he, now.” It came out sounding more like a statement than a question, but Kurt hummed an affirmative anyway.

“So…” he prompted, after Santana remained silent for another moment.

“Do you have a pen and paper?”

Kurt sat up and reached over to his desk, animated now that he was finally getting somewhere with his questioning. “I’m ready,” Kurt announced, the pen hovering poised over the paper.

“Let’s hope he is,” Santana muttered drily. “Okay, take down this address.”
She recited an unfamiliar address for him twice, making sure he had it down completely, then fell silent again.

“Is that… it?” Kurt asked uncertainly.

“That’s Anderson’s address,” she informed him.

“Thank you, Santana.”

“Now listen to me, Hummel,” Santana said, adopting a voice Kurt recognized from high school, a voice that warned its recipients not to mess with her. “I’m doing this because we go way back, and because I think Blaine is going to screw up his chances at happiness if he doesn’t get some outside guidance from Auntie ‘Tana. But so help me, Kurt, if you tell him that you got that address from me, I will unleash all the rage I’ve kept pent up over the years, and I will go all Lima Heights Adjacent on your ass.”

Kurt laughed. “Okay, Santana. I’ll tell him a little bird gave it to me.”

“Whatever,” Santana huffed. “And promise me one more thing.”

“Yeah?”

“Make things right, okay?”

Kurt rolled his eyes. When had so many people become invested in his relationship-- or lackthereof-- with Blaine? “Yes, Santana.”

“Good boy. Listen, there’s a marathon of Desperate Housewives that’s calling my name. You’ll call me soon and let me know how everything turns out?”

“Will do,” Kurt promised. “Thanks again.”

“No problem.”

Kurt hung up the phone and stared at the address clenched between his fingers, wondering why he couldn’t just drop this and move on with his life.

The answer didn’t come to him until hours later, when his mind was drifting into the dark recesses of sleep.

Everyone deserves the chance to fly.

The next morning, Kurt woke up before his alarm. He got dressed in a record amount of time, forgoing his normal skincare routines in favor of haste. He grabbed a banana in the kitchen and managed to make it outside by eight without waking up Rachel. He didn’t want to see her. He felt slightly bad for his harsh words the night before, but he still

wasn’t ready to completely forgive her for keeping secrets from him.

Blaine lived only a few blocks away from his apartment, so Kurt decided to walk. He wasn’t exactly sure where the keys were, anyway, and he didn’t want to risk waking Rachel up and having to face her this early in the day. She might try to stop him, too, and this was something he needed to do.

Maybe he was crazy, but his dreams had been plagued with images of Blaine in a way that it hadn’t been since they’d kissed the year before. He would go crazy if this wasn’t cleared up immediately. He didn’t care what happened at this point—as long as he got the truth, he would be satisfied. At least, that’s what he tried to convince himself on the way to Blaine’s.

The walk over was far too short to appease Kurt’s sudden nerves. As he stood outside the door to apartment 33B, he wondered if he was doing the right thing. Who knew if Blaine was even going to be an issue for him? Maybe they wouldn’t run into each other again. The odds of Blaine getting the part of Fiyero were small, since he was so green. As long as Kurt stayed away from Cooper’s, which was no feat at all, he wouldn’t have to see Blaine at all. After all, New York was a big city.

Kurt was halfway down the stairs, ready to go back home, when he stopped himself. He couldn’t turn back now. As surely as he had to breathe, he knew that he had to talk to Blaine. He lifted his fist and knocked on the door, half of him hoping that no one would answer.

That half of him lost when the door was not only opened within twenty seconds, but by none other than Cooper Anderson.

Shit. He’d completely forgotten that Cooper and Blaine were brothers, and that they lived together, and shitcrapdamn now Cooper Anderson was staring right at him, rubbing the sleep out of his eyes as he stood in front of his door in a tight-fitting tank top and boxers.

Kurt blushed, cursing his pale skin for how easily the color showed up. “Hi. I was wondering if I could talk to Blaine?” he asked, his voice in an even higher pitch than usual.

Cooper just stared at him, his eyes narrowed with what looked like suspicion more than blatant hatred. Kurt absentmindedly noted that the Anderson brothers didn’t share the same eye color, but did have the same gentle crinkle around their eyes from the way they scrunched their faces up when they laughed.

“I’m— I’m Kurt Hummel,” he added tentatively, as Cooper hadn’t said anything.

“I know who you are,” Cooper murmured, stifling a yawn with his fist as he spoke. “Mostly I’m wondering what you’re doing here.”

“I need to talk to Blaine,” Kurt said, standing up a bit straighter and gazing directly at Cooper.

Cooper hesitated, then shook his head. “He’s still sleeping.”

“I’ll wait, then.” And Kurt took a step back and seated himself on the top step of the stairs, folding his legs underneath him gracefully.

Cooper got a strange look on his face— Respect? Bemusement?— and the corner of his lip twitched as if he were trying not to smile. Kurt looked up at him expectantly, but he just rolled his eyes and went back inside without saying anything.

About fifteen minutes later, the door reopened and Blaine was standing framed in the doorway, looking down at Kurt with an unreadable expression.

Kurt scrambled to his feet, dusting invisible particles off the front of his jeans.

“Sorry if I woke you,” he offered up to the space between them.

Blaine shrugged. “I was getting up soon, anyway.” He gestured to his body, and Kurt noticed the shorts and big t-shirt he was wearing. “I usually run in the mornings, so you caught me getting ready for that.”

“Cooper said you were sleeping,” Kurt said, not bothering to hide his accusatory tone.

“I told him to.” Blaine stepped onto the front mat, closing the door behind him. “What brings you here, Kurt Hummel?”

Kurt started at hearing his full name from Blaine’s lips. “I’m not exactly sure, Blaine Anderson,” he responded eventually.

Blaine tilted his head, and the ghost of a smile flickered over his features as he considered Kurt. “Well, there’s no need to stand on occasion. Why don’t we take a seat and you can let me know when you figure it out?” He brushed past Kurt—Kurt hoped his shiver at the contact wasn’t too noticeable—and sat down on the steps, leaving just enough space for Kurt to sit without being on his lap.

“You did really well at your audition yesterday,” Kurt told him when they were both settled on the steps. “I’m not allowed to pick favorites… but I hope you get the part.”

“You were there?” Blaine turned to Kurt in surprise. “I didn’t see you.”

“I was in the back,” Kurt explained. “I was just about to leave when I heard you talking, so I stayed.”

“I was crap,” Blaine muttered, settling back on his palms.

“You were nervous,” Kurt corrected him. “You did better with Dancing Through Life, though. Really,” he added at the doubtful look on Blaine’s face. “And you have to believe me, because I’m the professional here.”

Blaine smiled, a real smile this time. “What do you do?”

“I’m the Assistant Costume Designer,” Kurt said, pride leaking into his voice. “I got the job last year.”

“Congratulations!” Blaine turned to face him fully, a grin pulling at his mouth and the corner of his eyes. “I bet you’re awesome at that. You always dress so uniquely.”

“Don’t make me blush,” Kurt said, but he grinned, too. He liked this. This was easy. This was just he and Blaine talking, without alcohol or the tension of an unspoken year hanging between them. This was them as they could be, as they should be. As friends.

But all too soon, the ease melted away. They both fell silent, avoiding each other’s gazes. It seemed to drag on forever, and finally Kurt couldn’t take it any longer.

“Who are you, Blaine?”

Blaine was quiet for a moment, then he gave a jerky shrug of his shoulder. “That’s a bit of a loaded question, wouldn’t you say?”

Kurt didn’t answer.

Blaine sighed. “I’ve had to describe this a lot over the weekend, and I know what it feels like to be on the receiving end of this story. So, will you just let me tell the short version and then ask me any questions you might have afterward?”

Kurt nodded. He thought he knew most of the story, anyway. He just wanted— no, needed— to hear it from Blaine’s own mouth.

It took only a couple minutes for Blaine to explain. How he had waited for Kurt at Cooper’s that night they were supposed to have a date. How he had spent a year assuming that Kurt had stood him up, not realizing that the Kurt he was supposed to date had been Kurt himself, led astray by a good-looking stranger masquerading as Blaine. How Blaine hadn’t realized any of this until he happened to run into Rachel on the one night she chose to go back to Cooper’s.
Kurt had to admit, it was a strange story. But the alternatives— that there were somehow two Blaine Andersons, or Blaine could shape shift, or something —were so bizarre that Kurt couldn’t do anything but accept it as the truth. And Blaine told the tale with such an earnest look in his eyes that Kurt nodded when he finished, having already decided to believe in what he was being told.

“And… that’s everything,” Blaine finished lamely, catching Kurt’s gaze and then quickly looking down at a crack in the ground.

“So…” Kurt began, still trying to wrap his head around everything. “So is that why Cooper was so mad at me when I came into the restaurant looking for you? Because he heard my name and thought I was the one who stood you up?” Kurt paused. “Well, actually, I kind of did. I’m sorry.”

Blaine let out a shaky laugh. “Apology accepted.” He looked up, his face disarmingly close to Kurt’s due to their close proximity. “And I’m sorry for disappearing to California without saying anything to you before I left. I know it’s no excuse, but I had a lot on my mind.”

Kurt nodded, feeling slightly dizzy despite the fact that he was sitting down. Did that mean that Blaine regretted missing out on what could have progressed between them? “So…” he began, right at the moment that Blaine opened his mouth to speak. “Oh, sorry,” he backtracked. “Go ahead.”

“Are we…?” Blaine trailed off, then shook his head. “Nevermind.”

No! Kurt wanted to yell. Are we what? Okay? Friends? Going to try again? There were a thousand ways for that sentence to end, and Kurt wanted to know them all. But he recognized that the moment for blatant honesty had passed, so he stood, allowing himself the small luxury of placing a hand on Blaine’s firm shoulder to help himself up.

“Are you leaving already?” Blaine asked, standing as well. Was it Kurt’s imagination, or did he look disappointed at the prospect?

“I have to go do damage control with my room—with Rachel.” He laughed. “I keep forgetting how weird it is that you two kind of know each other.”

“Take it easy on her,” Blaine said, looking anxious. “I made her promise not to say anything.”

Kurt nodded, strangely touched that Blaine cared so much about Rachel’s well-being. “I will.”

They stayed there, staring at each other, for an awkward beat longer. Kurt felt as if it were the end of a first date, with Blaine’s parents waiting on the other side of the door, and with he and Blaine wondering who was going to make the first move for a first kiss. But in the end, Blaine turned away first, with a little wave to Kurt as he went inside.

Their story had never gone in order.