Going back to school after the few weeks of bliss that had been the holiday break was difficult. It was a sort of culture shock, like back at the beginning of the school year. There was no more holding Kurt’s hand, stealing kisses whenever he wanted, because he was there with Santana’s hand in his instead, and hers didn’t feel anywhere near as wonderful as Kurt’s. After those weeks where it had been nothing but Kurt, it was hard to get back into the swing of things at school.

He and Kurt had talked, of course, about what to do in terms of Santana. They’d had that initial conversation where they’d decided they should all sit down and discuss what was going on, but then after New Year’s Eve, Blaine had thought that maybe it was better not to. It had been wonderful to see Santana out of her shell, free to do whatever she wanted with Brittany around others, but he knew that it had been an isolated occasion and a very safe zone. So they left it, figuring the chips would fall where they may no matter what conversation might have been had.

The last thing Blaine wanted was to push anyone into something they didn’t want or weren’t ready for, and that pretty much went double where Santana was concerned. He thought that talking to her about how Kurt was ready might make her feel pressured, and he didn’t want her to feel as though she had to come out as an obligation to them, just so that they could have what they wanted. It was a tricky situation all around, and Blaine couldn’t think of a single way to broach the topic with her without making it seem like he was asking her to come out for his benefit.

It was the little things that kept Blaine from getting down about the fact that he couldn’t openly be with Kurt, had to pretend to practically not even be on speaking terms with him again. Sometimes secrets were fun – like when he would wear one of the bowties that Kurt had made him, because only the two of them knew just how special they were and how much they meant. That was one of the anchors he had, a secret proclamation that only he and Kurt understood.

It was like how Kurt started to dress slightly different – claiming it was because football season was over so he didn’t have to wear his football paraphernalia to show his solidarity. His jeans were more like the ones Blaine had been accustomed to seeing on him over the summer, and he transitioned from sweatshirts to sweaters. When asked, he said that he was doing it because Brittany liked it and had gotten him a sweater or two for Christmas – but he and Blaine knew the truth (though Brittany did like it, because skinny jeans were always nice in her opinion).

Mike seemed to want to take Blaine under his wing, after everything that had happened. It wasn’t like Blaine had given him much of a chance to be his friend after the party and all that had ensued, and he’d been flat out avoiding him ever since.  Because Mike knew, or at least it seemed like he did, and while he didn’t seem like the type of person to push, Blaine couldn’t exactly talk to him honestly about what was going on because it wasn’t his place. None of it was Blaine’s place.

The lack of Kurt being his friend at school, however, seemed to open up a spot for Mike to swoop in. Apparently the holiday break had been enough time to distance themselves from the earlier situations, and Mike just started talking to him and hanging around as if nothing had ever happened. It was always something small, not noticeable except for the fact that Blaine knew they hadn’t talked that much previous, so that made it stand out more when it happened. Maybe it was because he was only used to Santana, Kurt, or Brittany standing next to him when he was at his locker.

Mike was perceptive, though, and that was something that Blaine had known already. He’d picked up on so much, but Blaine wasn’t sure when he’d started paying attention. However, midway through January, it became very obvious that there wasn’t a point where he hadn’t been paying attention.

“Hey Blaine,” Mike greeted him as they walked down the hall after glee rehearsal had let out. Santana had Cheerios practice, so Blaine was on his own headed for the parking lot. He missed having her as a shield against the gauntlet, he really did, because there weren’t many days that he walked through the halls without someone by his side. “Have a minute?”

“Several, probably,” Blaine offered with a shrug, pulling his phone out to check the time even though they’d just gotten out and he had a pretty good idea of what time it was already. “What’s up?”

Mike hesitated, hiking his bookbag up further onto his shoulder. “Want to head out to the parking lot or whatever?”

Blaine didn’t miss the fact that he was trying to get them out of the school before talking, an attempt that didn’t exactly give a sense of ease about whatever Mike wanted. It was Mike, though, so he had to assume that it wouldn’t be that bad. He nodded, wrapping his scarf around his neck as they headed through the doors and down the stairs out to the lot. Mike seemed unsure about talking even once they were outside, so Blaine gestured to his car. “We can sit?”

“Perfect.” Mike made his way over to the passenger side and slid in once Blaine had the doors unlocked. He didn’t plan on them going anywhere, but closed doors meant at least some semblance of privacy that being out in the open didn’t afford. Blaine turned on the engine anyway so they could get some heat going, because sitting in a cold car in a parking lot in the middle of January wasn’t how he’d planned on spending his afternoon.

“Not gonna lie, you’re making me a little nervous,” Blaine admitted, folding his arms across his stomach as he looked over at him. “What’s going on?”

“I know you’re not actually angry,” Mike said quietly. “At Kurt, I mean. And don’t get mad at me, please, I know you didn’t want me saying anything before and I’m not saying anything now.  Just... I know you’re not actually angry. I don’t get why you’re acting like you are.”

“Why do you think I’m not?” Blaine asked carefully, trying to ignore the knot twisting in his stomach.

“Because I was there when you were. I remember how you looked when you actually were angry at him, and how you would come into the locker room and go to town on that punching bag every day.” Mike shifted a little in his seat, turning to look at him. “I can recognize an outlet when I see one. That’s how it is for me with dance. Whenever I get into that headspace, I just need to get it out. Dancing for me, boxing for you, it’s all the same, but the point is you’re not there – you’re not actually upset.”

“Mike, I—”

“I’ve known Kurt for a long time, and I know he’s not actually upset either. So the question remains: why are you guys acting like this?”

“It’s not my place to say,” Blaine said, biting the inside of his lip. It would be so easy, he thought, to tell Mike absolutely everything. He was nice, actually cared, and had that disposition that just made Blaine want to start talking. But he knew better, knew that he couldn’t. “Whether or not Kurt and I are mad at each other, it’s not anyone’s business but ours.”

“Well, it kind of is,” Mike pressed. “As someone who is friends with both of you, I worry. It’s not just me, either. Puck’s got it in his head that this is all his fault, and he’s been kicking himself over it for weeks.”

That caught Blaine off guard, and he blinked a few times. “Puck?”

“He said he said some stuff after the party and then you guys sang that song and he thinks he broke you up or something,” Mike explained, rushing to add, “not trying to imply any kind of… anything, just…”

“Oh my God,” Blaine groaned, leaning forward and lightly hitting his forehead on the steering wheel.  His mind was racing, trying to think up excuses, because it would be so easy just to let it all out and tell him absolutely everything. And Puck, of all people. It was true that he was the cause of their charade, but Blaine had never expected him to be upset because he thought he’d made them fight. Puck seemed to be a stereotypical McKinley High jock, and especially with what he’d said that had made them spiral into more lies; it was crazy to think that he was worried about them.

“Blaine?”

“You said you weren’t going to say anything and then you said that?” Blaine said, tilting his head to look at him but not lifting it off the wheel. He was trying to console himself with the fact that apparently Mike and Puck both knew, but no one else was any wiser about it. Which, considering Puck was one of the two people, was surprising. “Damn, Mike.”

“I didn’t mean to,” Mike said, eyes wide. “Honestly, I wasn’t trying to say—I didn’t mean—shit, you make it really difficult, you know that?”

“Make what really difficult?”

“Being your friend!”

Blaine stared at him, and slowly pulled back, lifting his head up off the steering wheel and biting hard at the inside of his lip. He never really considered what it might be like for anyone on the outside of their little foursome mostly because he didn’t have much time spent with anyone like that. He’d been so focused on Kurt and then Santana and everything, he didn’t bother with anyone else for the most part.

“Seriously, Blaine, I just want to be your friend but I feel like no matter what I do I never actually see you.” Mike reached over and prodded at his chest, over his heart. “I know you’re in there somewhere but you have all these walls blocking everyone out, and I don’t doubt that there’s a reason but I don’t think I’ve seen the real you ever. No, that’s a lie, I’m pretty sure I saw the real you when you were drunk.”

“Mike, it’s compli—”

“I’m sure it is, but constantly being on the defensive doesn’t help people be your friend,” Mike said. “Why do you think your girlfriend has, like, two whole people who are actually her friends? Santana shuts out everyone and so do you.”

“So do I get to talk or are you just going to keep berating me until I kick you out of my car?”

“I’m not berating you.”

“It’s complicated, Mike,” Blaine said, his hands moving up to grip the steering wheel. “It’s complicated and it’s not my choice to make who knows what. I consider you my friend, I do, but you have to understand that it’s not up to me.”

“Your life, your choice, Blaine.”

“It’s not just my life we’re talking about.”

They sat in silence for a long time after that, but Blaine was pretty sure that Mike knew exactly what was going on. He seemed very aware of what was going on with everything, and that was terrifying and kind of relieving.

A sharp rap on his window startled them both, and Blaine glanced out to see Puck standing there, looking inside at them. Great.

Not even bothering to roll down the window to see what he wanted, Blaine unlocked the doors and tried to keep from feeling anxious as Puck climbed into the backseat and slid to the middle so he could look up at both of them. Blaine wasn’t sure what to expect, but he glanced back in his rearview mirror to try and figure out what he wanted. For someone who usually just looked ambivalent toward most things going on around him, Puck looked concerned.

“Dude, I am so sorry,” he said, reaching up and clapping a hand on Blaine’s shoulder. “I didn’t mean to break you guys up.  I was just happy that Kurt finally had someone, you know? And I didn’t really know how to say that, I think, so it came out wrong and—”

“You guys make a lot of assumptions,” Blaine interrupted, motioning back and forth between the two of them. “You shouldn’t just go around guessing things about people and their orientations or preferences.”

“I’m not assuming.” Puck blinked, looking at Mike and then back to Blaine. “When we were in second grade, I tried to get Kurt to help me get Santana to kiss me because I said I wanted to marry her someday and I was like, seven, so I thought that was how you got to be dating or engaged or whatever. And he said he would help me as long as I helped him kiss this kid John, because he wanted to marry him too. I asked which one of them was going to wear the dress and he said there wouldn’t be any frilly dresses, just pretty tuxedos – like a wedding should be.”

Blaine had twisted in his seat mid-story so he could look at him better. “Puck…”

“I’m not assuming,” he said again, his tone resolute. “Look, I’ve got no problem with Kurt and no problem with you.  I just have a problem with me messing stuff up for you. I like it when my friends are happy, and you guys were and now you’re not.”

“I appreciate both your concern,” Blaine started carefully, his gaze flitting between them. “I do, but neither of you are in this situation so you can’t really… speak to it. Kurt and I were friends, now we’re not, that’s just how it is.” He figured it wasn’t actually a lie – because he and Kurt weren’t friends anymore, they were boyfriends, and that was a clear distinction that he could use to his advantage at that moment.

“Give me your phone,” Mike demanded, holding out his hand.

“What? Why?”

“You said you consider me your friend but you don’t have my number, so hand it over so I can put it in.” Blaine hesitated, but wiggled his phone out of his pocket and passed it over. Puck just shook his head, looking dejected about the whole situation. Out of all the people in glee club, he was probably one of the last ones Blaine would have thought to be okay with it all. Then again, he should have known better than to judge someone based on minimal facts and a lot of first impression.

His phone vibrated in Mike’s hand, and his expression went from a furrowed brow of concentration to wide eyes as he looked at the screen. “Shit! That was not on purpose, I was just trying to type in the numbers and the text came through and I accidentally hit the button to read it because it was right over the number I was typing—”

Blaine snatched his phone back from Mike and glanced down at it, slight panic starting to take over before his gaze even met the screen. It was from Kurt; of course it was from Kurt.

I thought you were coming over? My dad’s at the shop until at least seven tonight, so…

“What is it?” Puck asked, trying to peek over his shoulder. Blaine closed out the text and passed the phone back to Mike so he could finish putting in his number.

“Sext from Santana,” he lied, not even sure why he was bothering because Mike was right there and had seen it but maybe it was because the lie made him feel like he had some sort of control? That would have been a fitting explanation, considering that was what all the lies were for that were circling around him. Control. Mike looked up and caught his eye but didn’t say anything, handing the phone back once he was done. “Not to kick you guys out of my car but… can you get out of my car? I have to get home.”

“Oh, sure,” Mike said quickly, and immediately reached for the door handle. Blaine didn’t even want to start to speculate what he might be thinking, but at least he wasn’t questioning the lie. “I have to head home anyway.”

Puck just gave a hearty smack to Blaine’s chest in farewell before climbing out of the car on the same side as Mike. Once he was alone, he felt as if it was the first time he could draw in a deep breath since he’d gotten out to the parking lot. He stared down at his phone, unsure of exactly what to say, but he knew the truth was more important than trying to avoid the situation at hand.

Sorry, got held up by Mike and Puck. I’ll be over in a few. We have to talk about them.

It wasn’t the best attempt to explain anything, mostly because it didn’t explain anything at all, but Blaine didn’t think that it should have been said over a text when he was going to be there in person soon. When he arrived at the Hummel house, he went straight for the side door, knowing that Kurt kept it unlocked most days when he got home from school, and headed inside, shucking his shoes and coat just inside the door. He’d felt his phone buzzing with texts when he’d been driving, but he didn’t bother looking at it until he was there. Ignoring all the ones from Kurt, he sent one to Mike.

Thanks for not saying anything. I’m sorry for lying – I hate lying. It’s not my story and it’s complicated. I hate to ask you to keep not saying anything, but please? I’m sorry.

“What happened?” Kurt asked when he saw him, his eyes wide. Blaine slipped his phone back into his pocket and tugged him in, kissing him for at least one moment of soft, warm, wonderful before the potential landslide of conversation. “Blaine…”

“Let’s sit?” He gave him another quick kiss. “It’s okay, or it will be, so don’t be worried.”

“You got ambushed by Mike and Puck and said we have to talk about them and I’m not supposed to find that unsettling?” Kurt asked as he took his hand and led him into the living room. Once they were both sitting on the couch, he asked, “What happened?”

Blaine kept hold of his hand and rubbed light circles over the back of it with his thumb as he recalled everything that had been said in his car. He tried his hardest to recite the conversations verbatim,  and tried to ignore the slight tensing of Kurt’s hand in his. Kurt almost laughed when he recalled what Puck had said about them in second grade, and Blaine was glad for the brief moment of levity amongst the tension. But then they descended right back into it when he brought up what had happened with Kurt’s text.

“Mike didn’t say anything though?” Kurt squeezed his hand, eyes searching his as if trying to make sure he’d been telling the truth.

“No he didn’t, and I texted him once I got here, but I don’t think he’ll say anything,” Blaine said, shaking his head. “I just wanted you to know that they’re… thinking about us.” He paused, pressing a kiss against Kurt’s cheek. “This isn’t all bad, right? I mean, at least just in terms of us because you said you wanted…”

“…to come out,” Kurt finished quietly, pursing his lips. “No, you’re right. It’s not all bad, just complicated.”

“Just complicated,” Blaine repeated, nodding and giving his hand a squeeze. “You okay?”

“I’m fine, I am,” Kurt said, leaning over and kissing the corner of his mouth. “I’ll talk to Mike later, sort of set the record straight as best I can without spilling everything out. Sorry you kind of got stuck with all that and them and everything.” Blaine shook his head, shrugging. He didn’t care; it was just that he never knew what to say. “But we have a bunch of hours until my dad comes home, so I think we should go someplace more comfortable, like my room, and see what happens.”

It truly was a testament to how far Kurt had come that he was shrugging off a potential threat to his secrets and practically had a twinkle in his eyes as he looked over at Blaine. Months earlier, there was no way that ever would have happened. So Blaine got up from the couch, offering him his other hand to help him up, and tugged him toward the stairs. If Kurt wasn’t worried, then neither was he.