The text message had made Blaine smile when he finally looked at it after rehearsal later that afternoon. When he'd first received it, he'd been in his Calculus class, distracted both by his assignment and the nightmare from a few hours prior that was still taunting him in the overly bright classroom.

He'd seen Kurt's name and instantly shoved his phone away, not because he was annoyed or angry, but because he knew if he responded he'd end up in the bathroom on the phone, crying and spilling all of the agony this new Sadie Hawkins dance was bringing him. Blaine wasn't going to dump all of that on Kurt. Not this time; he had to find a way through this struggle on his own, the same way it had been when it had happened. He had to face himself and understand himself and as much as it terrified Blaine, he knew without a doubt that what had happened to him at the Sadie Hawkins dance was a part of himself that he had to explore on his own.

So he'd ignored the text until he'd calmed down and begun focusing on other aspects of his day. It finally worked around lunch when he first met up with Sam for the day, and after that he had him in the rest of his classes. Then he'd been incredibly busy with a few more discussions about the dance with Figgins, and then Glee Club. Kurt was at work by the time Blaine decided to respond with a teasing little comment about the way Kurt had dribbled coffee down his chin during the same coffee date.

By the time he got home, showered, and ate, Kurt had called him and Blaine hadn't been available. Feeling slightly guilty for how little he'd been in contact, Blaine sent a text message telling Kurt he had been in the shower, but was and would be doing homework for most of the night and to call if he could.

That plan didn't work either. By nine o'clock Blaine was asleep on his bed, history book slipping from his grip and hitting the floor. He rolled over in his sleep, phone sliding down between his pillows, not hearing the buzzing of an incoming call or the muffled beep informing him that he had new messages. Blaine heard nothing from the physical room around him, but the echoes of his freshmen year resonated more violently than ever that night.

Two strong, much larger, pairs of arms held him against the brick wall behind the dumpster out behind the gymnasium. The grips on his wrists and biceps were bruising, despite how weak and shaky he was. Blaine couldn't see, he could barely breathe from the hits his chest and stomach had already received. Blood clung to his eyelashes as he weakly tried to struggle free, to find out what had happened to Gavin and if he was okay or awake now.

The sharp ping of metal connecting with the dumpster beside them rang out clearly in Blaine's ears despite the indistinct, watery sounds of everything else around him. Two of the seniors chuckled loudly as the metal pinged once more, closer and louder. Blaine trembled, panic swelling rapidly in his chest. He tugged more forcefully to free himself as another drip of blood slid down his eyelid and into his eye.

" Let– stop– " his head throbbed as he tried to form a coherent sentence, but he barely managed two

feebly whispered words.

"Come on, faggot, don't you wanna play with the big boys?"

Blaine cried out pitifully, trying even more sluggishly to break free, but the seniors only held him tighter. He wasn't getting away from this. He'd knocked the leader of the little football trio in the back of the head when he'd first appeared, saving Gavin from a much more brutal assault, but still leaving the other boy passed out on the curb in the parking lot before a fist had sunk into his gut and he'd been dragged behind the gymnasium and kicked and beaten.

Crack!

His mouth hung open, his choked off whimper of pain barely making a sound over the homophobic slurs and laughs surrounding him.

"No– no, stop– "

Blaine jolted awake in his head right before his dream self's vision cleared enough to take in the aluminum bat about to connect with his face. He was trembling and panting, his shirt and pajama pants soaked through with sweat and clinging to his flushed skin. Tears were clouding his eyes, and before he even understood where he was and that he wasn't fourteen again, he heard a concerned, sleepy voice against his ear.

"B- Blaine? It's almost three in the– why are you crying?" Kurt yawned once, suddenly sounding more alert and Blaine sunk back into his pillows, choking back his cries and shaking.

"They were– and I can't stop remembering– "

His words dissolved into gibberish after that, but Kurt shushed him and talked quietly, soothingly as Blaine hiccupped and started to fall back into the present. Slowly he became aware of the bed under him, the warm blankets, still slightly damp with sweat, and the light of his laptop screen at his desk across the room. Kurt's voice continued to drift calmingly through his phone that he'd apparently dug up and immediately dialed.

Blaine felt incredibly foolish for his panic and the nightmares, especially when he looked at the clock on his night-stand and saw that it was approaching four in the morning.

"Fuck," he rasped, squeezing his eyes shut and interrupting Kurt's calming voice. "I'm sorry. I shouldn't have called– I wasn't trying to drag you into this Sadie Hawkins stuff and– "

"Blaine, we're friends, best friends; that's what I'm here for– "

"No," Blaine argued, his voice cracking. "I– you don't get it. I don't want to rely on you to get me through all of my problems. I've– "

"Who else knows what happened, Blaine?" Kurt asked calmly and Blaine, slightly tense with anger at himself, curled his knees up to his chest. But he couldn't offer any response to that question that wasn't negative. "Blaine, I… I get what you're trying to do, and I think it's a fantastic thing to want to be able to understand yourself, but you need someone you can talk to about this while you work through it. If you don't… don't want that person to be me then– "

"I just want to be able to not depend on you like I did before," Blaine admitted miserably. "I want to be able to be happy with just myself before I compound that happiness with you, if that makes sense."

"I know what you mean," Kurt whispered, and Blaine was surprised to hear him sniffle. "I'm starting to understand how you felt when I left. You've been so quiet lately and it… it hurts and I get why now, but… I miss you, only I'm not sure what that means."

Guilt surged through Blaine, replacing the last strands of fear still coiled around his heart. He'd known he'd been more distant because of this, but after Kurt's distance so many months ago, he hadn't thought the other man would notice or be as effected as he had been.

"I'm sorry," he said simply, hating that he was once again hurting Kurt, only this time it was for the supposed benefit of himself.

"Don't be," Kurt said softly. "Talk to Sam. Tell him if you don't want to rely on me, Blaine. I– we're both trying to figure out where we stand with each other, aren't we? Trying to figure out ourselves at the same time, too. You need to trust yourself and I need to let go of the simple boy I first met. We aren't those boys anymore. I think that's the key to forgiving each other completely."

Nodding shakily, Blaine hiccupped, but agreed. It made sense to him, had been the path he'd chosen several months ago when Kurt had refused to talk to him after they'd broken up. It was himself he needed to know again, with a little support from a new friend.

"I still love you, Blaine," Kurt admitted, "so much it hurts to think we might never have that back or that we're both deluding ourselves into thinking we're still in love with the boys we were."

"I'm not," Blaine whispered with such conviction he could picture the stunned look on Kurt's face that had no doubt accompanied the sharp intake of breath. "I've watched you change and grow since the first day I met you. It's part of the reason I fell so hard and barely noticed. You were still changing and so was how I felt, but my love's grown for you as you've outgrown this place. I know where my heart stands, where it'll always stand, but I don't know where I stand with myself."

"And I'm in the opposite dilemma," Kurt mumbled with a short, humorless laugh. "I loved the idea of where we started, and never saw you move beyond that. I didn't let you grow."

"I didn't want to."

Kurt sniffled, and Blaine heard his blankets shift on the other end of the line. "Goodnight, Blaine. I love you."

Blaine sighed quietly, some of the weight in his chest lessening after their conversation. They knew what they each needed to figure out, had acknowledged it with themselves and with each other. It was only a matter of time until they got there now, and Kurt was right. He should tell Sam. The other boy was his friend, more so than anyone else at McKinley. He deserved the truth and Blaine was going to share it with him.

"I love you, too."

After his early morning classes, Kurt took a long nap back at their apartment. For the first time all week, Santana wasn't holed up in her room with a nameless woman, moaning and screeching and shattering various objects while Kurt tried his best to ignore it. She wasn't even in the apartment when he got back shortly after eleven o'clock. He thought it was odd, but shrugged it off, hoping perhaps the girl had gone to check out a school or look for a job. Rachel would be in her classes for another few hours, so Kurt settled down in his bed, not bothering to undress or even kick his boots off.

Hours later Santana and Rachel woke him, one murmuring his name softly and the other prodding him purposefully in the face.

"Wake up, Porcelain, this meeting was your idea," Santana insisted, prodding him more roughly until Kurt snapped his teeth at her, almost catching a well-manicured nail. "Don't play piranha with me, Hummel, get up."

The blanket he'd rolled himself up in was tugged out of his grasp, letting in a chilly wave of air. Kurt shuddered and lazily rolled back towards his roommates, glaring up at them.

"Lemme sleep 'til dinner," Kurt groaned, squinting at them angrily as the cold air settled more heavily around him. "Why's so cold?" he complained.

"Heat's out again," Rachel informed him, her jacket ruffling noisily as she tried to bundle herself up more. "You're the one who always fixes it, so… "

"Yeah," Santana agreed, prodding him in the nose. "Get busy with your mechanic prowess, would you? Before we have a Berry popsicle in our living room, though you might actually taste delicious."

Rachel made a disgusted noise, and Kurt blinked slowly until the girls came into focus, Rachel in her knitted hat, scarf, and gloves with her hideous overstuffed jacket on, while Santana was much simpler in her old McKinley letterman jacket and matching gloves. It was really bizarre for Kurt to see her in it despite having only graduated seven months ago. Back then it had been a daily occurrence, but now it felt odd, less than the person she was now.

"Feed me and I'll fix it," Kurt demanded, sitting up and hugging himself. It really was freezing in here at this point. If he hadn't fallen asleep in his clothes and outer wear, Kurt knew he'd have been awake several hours ago, probably fixing the stupid heating unit just as the girls came bustling in.

"We ordered pizza," Rachel offered, rubbing her mitten covered hands over Kurt's fingers to warm them up. "Your tools are by the heater, too."

Yawning and shivering, Kurt dug his gloves out of his coat pocket and followed the girls into their main living area. He stretched out by the heater, accessing any possible problems or breaks while the two girls huddled up on the loveseat behind him, shivering.

"So, can we have this meeting while you're fixing it?" Santana asked, his voice stuttering from the cold. "There are no beautifully warm women around to keep my body heat intact, and talking will at least keep my mind off of that."

"That's actually the exact reason I wanted to have this meeting," Kurt grumbled, popping open the toolkit his father had given him almost a decade ago when he'd first let Kurt help at the shop. "I'm sick of coming home and listening to you and some girl get off."

"Well, it's a shame you can't join us," Santana said immediately. "But as much as I love threesomes, you're dick-exclusive and I'm lesbian-exclusive." Kurt saw her shrug carelessly out of the corner of her eye. "There's nothing I can really do about that."

"You could learn to be quiet while your roommates are here," Kurt pressed angrily, popping the heating unit's cover open. He immediately saw the problem: the same wire as last time had come uncoiled and was currently attached to nothing. "I don't care if you have sex in your room or on the floor or on the couch– "

"Ew, no!" Rachel squealed in dismay. "No sex on the couch!"

" – but I don't want to hear every damn minute of it every afternoon, Santana," Kurt continued as though Rachel had interrupted. "I'd like to be able to come back to my room after class, relax, do some homework, and then head to work without having to run out of here because of how awkward it is listening to you and whoever ten feet away."

As Kurt wound the wire tightly and fitted it back into its metal slot, the girls fell silent behind him. He knew Rachel was undoubtedly imagining someone, namely himself and a random man, or Santana and some woman, fucking the couch where she was seated. Santana, on the other hand, was either stewing, thinking his words over carefully, or just as aware of his own sexual urges and lack of outlet as her sex life made him.

"You're just upset because you don't have a tight ass around to fuck," Santana decided bluntly.

"Santana," Rachel scolded immediately. "Don't– "

"At least I have enough decency to let my last relationship have proper time to heal before I go off trolloping around– "

"Kurt!"

Santana glared darkly at him, and Kurt met the look with a vicious one of his own. He didn't know why the remark had stung so much, but he loathed being reminded of it, of what he'd lost, and how uncertain everything romantic was with Blaine right now. More importantly it zapped him right back into his dreams, both the lovely ones with Blaine pressed close, and the horrible ones when there was skin against Blaine's but it wasn't his own.

"What happened with… with me and Britt wasn't like you and Blaine," Santana finally said, her voice soft and wistful. "We were best friends, and yes, I loved her, but not in the way you and Blaine love each other. As much as I don't like it, it was different, and that difference was one that meant we wouldn't spend the rest of our lives together like I thought you and hobbit would."

Kurt fixed his gaze on his work and said nothing as he hooked the wire back into place. Part of him felt guilty for the remark, but at the same time, he didn't like how well Santana knew him. Or perhaps she'd heard him in his sleep, which was another, very embarrassing idea.

"Sorry," he mumbled finally, closing the heating units cover and plugging it back into the wall. It shuddered for a moment and the little power light on the top flickered on. "Heat's back."

Rachel beamed and clapped her hands, hopping up under the pretense of going to the bathroom. Kurt sat down on the couch across from Santana, not meeting her eyes. It was surreal when he considered how happy both of them where this time last year. Everything had been so much simpler in high school, only he'd had no idea that it was back then. What had once been easy and enough had changed so quickly, he doubted either of them had fully caught up with it. He was definitely still reeling from it, though the spinning was slowing down gradually as Blaine slotted back into his life.

"I–" Kurt bit his lip, guilt bubbling through him. "I didn't mean that you and Britt didn't love each other or anything like that– "

"I know what you meant, Kurt," Santana cut in, her voice crisp and flat. "I've known it practically since I left for school, even before that. I loved her, but when I saw the way you and Blaine looked at each other, I knew it was different, only it took leaving for me to realize what that meant and who had what it took to last."

Kurt snorted faintly and drew his knees up to his chest as the heat slowly filled the room.

"So much for lasting," he muttered. "We didn't last more than a month– "

"Live and learn," Santana remarked, shrugging. "He screwed up and I'm guessing you did to in some way. I remember that dopey way he had of looking at you. There's no way he'd just go fuck some twink without feeling like you two were over."

Eyes focused on the heater across the room, Kurt said nothing in response, which seemed to confirm Santana's accurate suspicions.

"You two still talk," Santana said slowly, watching him carefully. "You're still in love even after hurting each other so deeply. That's what I mean when you have what it takes to last together. He's your best friend, but that's only part of it. Britt was just a best friend, even while we felt more. It never really went beyond that."

"We're… we're giving each other space right now," Kurt admitted. "He's working on himself and I'm working on forgiving and not being so distant… "

"I hope you two make it."

"So do I," Kurt replied, finally looking up and meeting her bittersweet gaze. "But don't think for a minute that that means you're getting out of this roommate meeting– "

"Oh, come on! It's just loud sex– "

"I'm not listening to it every day, Santana– "

"Oh my god, are you two talking about having sex on the couch again?" Rachel bellowed from the bathroom. "God, can't you save that until after I'm done peeing?"

Fingers carefully threaded through his slightly loose curls as Blaine hovered in front of the mirror in his bedroom. He gulped for the tenth time since he'd changed into his tuxedo for the evening. Sam's fingers continued to mess with his curls, trying relentlessly to fix Blaine's hair in a similar fashion to how Kurt had styled it.

Blaine watched him work, grimacing at the noticeable curl of his hair since he'd been too jittery to straighten it and Sam hadn't trusted himself with the device.

"Looks pretty cool, I say," Sam decided, tugging a single curl loose and dangling it down Blaine's forehead slightly. "Nothing on that swoopy thing Kurt and you have been doing, but the curls really look cool, man."

"You think so?" Blaine asked in surprise, examining his reflection from various angles. It really did look all right. With the help of some mousse, his curls had lost their after-shower frizz and were sleek and fairly tamed, styled up off his forehead in a fairly natural way.

"Yeah, we're gonna kill at that dance," Sam beamed, patting him on the shoulder and straightening his tie in the mirror. "We're hot."

Blaine snorted, his body still shivering with nerves as he glanced at the clock. They had to leave soon or they'd be late.

"It's going to be a blast," Sam said more quietly, hands coming up and resting on Blaine's shoulders from behind. "I know last time was rough even though you haven't said why– "

"I was in the hospital for two weeks after my last Sadie Hawkins dance," Blaine confessed, meeting Sam's eyes in the mirror. "It was… " He cleared his throat roughly, eyes burning as the memories floated back up. "I'd just come out, and I asked the only other gay guy at school. We went together and it was… they shoved us around and spilled drinks on us all night. When we left, a couple of the seniors followed us outside. Gavin was calling his dad and I walked away a little to call my brother since my parents didn't know anything about the dance… "

Sam swallowed loudly behind him, hands tightening their grip on Blaine's shoulders as he continued to talk. It was the first time since Kurt's Junior Prom that he'd talked himself through that night, and somehow, speaking it out loud again, after weeks of nightmares and trying to think himself through the evening, made the weight of it feel lighter in his chest.

"How many of them were there?" Sam prompted, voice quiet and tight.

"Three," Blaine continued, his vision swimming slightly as he found his fourteen year old self spinning around, alarmed by his date's shout, only to find three seniors on the football team crowded around him. "They went for Gavin first. S- Started punching him, and I ran over and knocked one in the back of the head. It was the stupidest thing I think I've ever done."

"Sounds damn brave to me," Sam remarked. "You're a fantastic friend and boyfriend. I'm sure he was grateful."

"They slammed his head against the curb and left him there while they dragged me off to the dumpsters behind the gymnasium," Blaine whispered hollowly. "After that, they… " He shook his head, trembling slightly as Sam forced him to spin around and stop staring at his pale, frightened face. "A lot of broken bones, concussion, some surgery on a broken rib that punctured one of my lungs… That's why I ran to Dalton. I never wanted to face that again."

Sam was quiet as Blaine stared directly ahead of himself. Sam's neck was in his line of vision, Adam's apple bobbing shakily.

"You didn't run," Sam finally said, pulling Blaine in for a tight hug. "Anyone would have left after that, especially that young and just out of the closet, dude. You're one of the bravest, smartest guys I know and you going to Dalton is proof of that."

Blaine pressed his face into Sam's shoulder, allowing a few unstoppable tears from dotting the other man's blazer. "Thanks," he muttered hoarsely, and for the first time since he was fourteen, he actually felt like it might be true.

"All right, enough sad things," Sam decided, pulling back with a bright smile. "We've got a dance and two lovely ladies to entertain tonight!"

"Right, because encouraging Tina's crush is a fantastic idea," Blaine grumbled, but as Sam laughed at him and pushed him towards the door, Blaine grinned too.

But as they approached McKinley, now with Brittany in the car, Blaine grew tenser as he prepared himself for anything unexpected. He told himself repeatedly that it wouldn't happen again, that he had a dozen friends here, was a senior now and Senior Class President, and that nobody would want to harm him like before.

They met Tina outside of the gymnasium, Sam and Britt talking and laughing while Blaine lingered behind, shaking slightly and very uncomfortable. But he forced himself to smile when Tina greeted him and fixed his hair, and he tried his best to relax and trust himself on this one. If he couldn't trust himself then nobody else would be able to either.

Blaine took Tina's hand, closed his eyes for a moment and breathed deeply. He would be brave and face this. And when tonight was over he'd look back and remember having a fabulous time with his friends instead of being beaten bloody. There would be no more negativity or doubt about himself from tonight on.

"Let's go boogey," he decided, eyes opening as he tugged Tina into the gymnasium.

The train station was unbelievably busy Saturday morning. Kurt yawned in the early sunlight, shivering against the chill numbing his lips and nose. Santana stood beside him, hip shifted to one side as she tapped her foot impatiently. He honestly didn't understand why she'd insisted on making the journey across town with him. Rachel had flat out refused when he'd mentioned picking up Blaine the night before. Apparently she was looking forward to the start of her three day weekend and was celebrating it by sleeping in.

As he stared blearily around, Kurt really couldn't blame her. It was incredibly early, just after dawn, and a heavy mist still hung in the air around them. But the train that had left shortly after midnight had been the only one Blaine could find a reasonable price on, and now Kurt was here, with an impatiently tapping Santana, shivering and wishing he'd told Blaine to grab a cab.

"Shouldn't the damn thing be here by now?" Santana snarled, shifting her weight to the other hip and crossing her arms.

"There's still about five minutes," Kurt yawned, daring to stretch his arms out and allow a short blast of cold to wrap around him. "Ugh, why did we stay up so late?"

"Because we couldn't agree on the sex terms of our roommate agreement," Santana reminded him with a little simpering smile. She winked playfully at him a second later, adding, "I can't wait to use it against you and Hobbit once you're all hard and panting against him– "

Kurt did his best to keep a straight face at the suggestion, but considering the repetitive dream he'd encountered again last night it was difficult.

"We aren't going to be doing anything like that," he snapped waspishly. "Not right now. Not until we've both sorted things out a little more and understood how to forgive."

He didn't bothering adding that Blaine needed to trust himself and understand and accept the scariest, worst moments of his life. Kurt wondered if he'd managed to do so last night at the Sadie Hawkins dance, if perhaps Blaine had faced one enormously painful part of himself and taken another step closer to being able to forgive himself for his worst choices.

"Yeah, yeah," Santana muttered, rolling her eyes and tapping her foot more loudly. She finally dropped her hands to her side with a disgruntled noise and spun away from the platform and towards the little building attached. "I'm going for coffee. This is way too early."

Kurt watched her go, quite glad to be rid of her for a little while, even though the company had been welcome on the subway ride over. If it hadn't been for Santana next to him, asking about various schools around the city, Kurt would have fallen asleep and ended up making a round trip back to their stop.

After Santana disappeared, Kurt dropped down onto an empty bench slightly away from the small crowd waiting by the edge of the platform. They were all huddled together, most likely for the added warmth, but Kurt wanted his solitude right now. His heart was leaping and falling, squashing down hard against his lungs as he waited for the train to come chugging through the mist. Any minute now Blaine would be pulling into the station, probably exhausted, both physically and emotionally after yesterday.

He'd been trying to imagine what had happened at Blaine's Sadie Hawkins dance, if the boy had had any panic attacks or encounters that had triggered his past experiences. All night, he'd resisted the urge to text or call Blaine, either a simple word of courage or to check in, but he knew he couldn't. This evening was something Blaine had needed and wanted to face on his own. It was the best option for it, and Kurt, while nervous, was unbelievably proud of his best friend. The one thing Kurt hoped for was that Blaine had come out of it stronger and more sure of himself and who he was. At least then one of them would be closer to forgiveness, and while Kurt wanted to reach that point more than anything, he also realized that Blaine forgiving himself for his mistakes was much more important in the long run.

Snuffling as another gust of chilly wind whipped up around him, Kurt bundled up tighter, and glanced at the clock over the building. A quarter until eight o'clock. The train was late. He stared back over at the tracks, both wanting the train to appear and wishing it wouldn't. He was dreading the idea of Blaine being a wreck after the dance last night, and hoped more than anything that Blaine had trusted himself and how strong he was.

A little after eight, another gust of wind picked up, but this one continued on long after the others had. Kurt hopped to his feet, padding over to the edge of the platform just as the train began rolling in, parting the fog like a blade. The other people waiting swarmed closer to the doors as travelers slowly began to exit the cars and, finally, after nearly ten minutes of waiting, Kurt spotted a familiar Dalton beanie in the doorway a few cars down before it dropped down amongst the crowd.

Stomach churning anxiously, Kurt hurried over, hoping more than anything that Blaine wouldn't be in a bad state. Seconds passed as Kurt approached the edge of the little crowd, trying to spot Blaine once more, until finally the boy appeared, shouldering his way through the crowd. When he spotted Kurt a few feet away, Kurt froze, quickly taking in Blaine's disheveled appearance. He was still in his tuxedo, shirt untucked, collar rumpled, and his bow tie undone and hanging loosely around his neck. But it was the way he held himself, the calm maturity that reminded Kurt of the boy he'd first met at Dalton that made him forget to breathe.

There was nothing forced or hidden about the easy grin Blaine offered him, nothing regretful or uncertain to accompany the flushed, slightly exhausted, look on Blaine's relaxed face. Before Kurt could visibly take everything about Blaine in, the other boy was suddenly in his arms, hugging him tightly and smelling strongly of coffee. The shockingly loose curls tickled Kurt's cheek as he squeezed Blaine back, resisting the urge to pick him up and revolve on the spot.

"Your hair isn't being tortured for one," Kurt remarked as Blaine stepped back a little and continued to smile at him. "It's quite lovely."

"Thanks, Sam didn't trust himself to straighten it without burning my scalp, so… " Blaine gestured vaguely at his hair, obviously tamed with mousse, but one side was flattened, as though Blaine had pressed his face against the window of the train and slept.

"It looks great," Kurt said encouragingly, tugging gently on a loose one dangling in the other's eyes. "You must be exhausted after– "

"I slept on the train," Blaine cut in, still grinning brightly. "And there was a lot of coffee so I'm wired right now. And it's just– I'm so glad I get to see you again, Kurt."

"Of course you do, dummy," Kurt chided playfully, but his eyes lingered over Blaine's expression. There was such a notable difference there it was impossible to miss. The dance had obviously gone quite well the previous evening, and done Blaine a lot of good. Something else was there, though, and for the life of him, Kurt couldn't stick a name on it. But as Blaine's smile softened, so sure and steady, it sparked something in Kurt. It wasn't anything overwhelming or monumental, but a little prickle of something unexpected and undefined ran through him.

"Well, I've gotta grab my bag," Blaine said eventually, their eyes still locked as Blaine backpedaled towards the train's caboose.

Kurt watched him head back into the crowd, his spine tingling and his heart feeling like a springboard. Blaine had been different in December, but now… it was undeniable. What Kurt thought was the last piece had seemed to have finally slotted into place for Blaine. The maturity that Blaine had always carried himself with had expanded and grown calmer, easier to express, and it was Kurt's sincere hope that forgiveness and trust had become attached to that. It certainly seemed like it.

A low whistle rang out behind him and Kurt half-turned to find Santana gazing over at Blaine, her expression surprised, but not unpleasantly so. She took a sip of coffee and offered him the cup.

"He's different," she remarked. "And a lot hotter when his hair isn't cemented to his scalp."

"Blaine's changed a lot since September," Kurt said simply, watching his ex-boyfriend accept his bag from the platform worker with many thanks.

"I'll say," Santana replied, still eyeing Blaine as he headed back towards them. "I always thought he was really an adult playing pretend when he was in that blazer, but now… he doesn't need the blazer anymore."

The words stunned Kurt slightly as Blaine lumbered back over under the weight of his bag. He didn't think Santana even understood how deeply what she'd said went, but it was true. Blaine had outgrown Dalton. He'd moved past the fears and memories that had led him to that old sanctuary, discovering little pieces of himself he'd dropped along the way.

Santana laughed suddenly, pulling Kurt from his thoughts.

"Oh, you are so going to tap that plump ass this weekend," she cackled, and Kurt realized too late that his eyes, while vacant and distant, had unfortunately been aimed right at Blaine's hips.

Blushing ruby red, Kurt glared at her. " I am not. We aren't– we can't until– "

"Yeah, yeah, forgiveness. I know. You've only said it a thousand times since New Year's," Santana said flippantly. "I think the best way to earn forgiveness is being eaten out. Or a blow job, as the case may be for his pretty little mouth, huh?"

Blaine stumbled over to them just as the last words frosted over in the air. Santana was grinning in amusement and Kurt was suddenly glad for the cold. At least it made his burning face less noticeable.

"Hey, Santana, how's New York treating you?" Blaine greeted, slinging his bag to the ground as Santana stepped in for a hug.

"You know me," Santana returned as the two embraced tightly, Santana's eyes lingering on Kurt's ruby face. "Enjoying all the ladies this city has to offer."

Blaine snorted as they pulled away, scooping up his bag and shaking his head. "Only you would consider moving to New York a rare chance at a city-wide sexcapade."

"Damn right, hobbit," Santana grinned, looping her arm through one of his and the other through Kurt's left. "There's a surprisingly large number of lesbian cherries that need popping in this city, and I'm just the girl to do it."

Laughing this time, Blaine let them lead him out of the station and to the subway. The first thing all three of them did when they got back was decide to take long naps. By the time they'd arrived in Bushwick, Blaine's half a dozen cups of coffee had worn off and he was just as exhausted as Kurt had been picturing him all morning. Santana stumbled off to her own room, yawning and rubbing her eyes, while Blaine began setting himself up on the couch, but the sight made Kurt uncomfortable, and even rather guilty, though he knew there was no logical reason for Blaine to expect to share his bed.

"Don't," Kurt decided after a moment. "You need to sleep on a bed after that train ride, and if you're going to be perfect and charming at your audition on Monday, then you'll need several nights of proper skin care and comfortable sleep."

"But, Kurt, I– are you sure?" Blaine hesitated as Kurt stepped around him and scooped his bag up. "I don't want to make you uncomfortable if you aren't ready for– "

"I've missed having you with me," Kurt said simply, reaching out and clasping Blaine's hand in his before he could convince himself it was a foolish idea. "I… I didn't really know what that meant until now, I think."

Blaine didn't reply to his last, unclear sentence, but instead allowed Kurt to lead him into the sectioned off area that was his bedroom. Neither of them spoke as they kicked their shoes off and got comfortable. As Kurt laid down, Blaine settling beside him, his body relaxed instantly with the warmth of his presence. It was true when he thought about it now. He hadn't known originally what he'd meant when he'd told Blaine that he missed him a few weeks ago. It was only now, when he saw Blaine's growth, that he really figured it out. He missed the boy he'd left behind in Lima four months ago. Kurt missed the way Blaine had held him, kissed him, soothingly brushed his fingers along Kurt's jaw when he was upset, and more than anything Kurt missed how much that boy had needed him.

This Blaine didn't need him like that anymore. He was his own person, guiding himself now and so much happier and stronger because of it. Kurt was really glad Blaine had found that part of himself, but it hurt in a way he didn't want to explain. Before now, Blaine had always needed Kurt, to guide him, to hold him up, or comfort him about whatever was going wrong, but now that wasn't necessary. Blaine could function on his own, had unanchored himself from Kurt and was still flying high and succeeding.

Kurt felt something slip inside of him at the realization, like his heart had been balanced precariously on a shelf in his chest and suddenly been knocked sideways by Blaine's stray elbow. It wasn't intentional, but natural for Blaine to take control of his own life. His heart was still dangling off that shelf, still waiting for Blaine's hand to come desperately grappling for its unyielding strength, to set the shelf straight once more, but Kurt couldn't allow that now, and Blaine wouldn't want it back like he had before, even if he felt he needed it.

As Blaine began snoring softly at his side, Kurt allowed his eyes drift closed, took a deep breath, and let his heart fall.