"Kurt? Carole? You two look like you just watched a puppy get run over," Blaine said uncertainly. He spotted his bacon cheeseburger on the table and sat down. "Hello? Anyone in there?"

Blaine's hand waving in front of his eyes finally made Kurt move. He hadn't even opened the envelope yet, and maybe he shouldn't. Maybe that should be left for Blaine once they–he– told him.

"Kurt, what's going on?"

He swallowed as Blaine sat his burger down and looked at him. There was nothing else to do but tell him, but something he'd been excited about shouldn't make him feel so nauseated. If Blaine freaked out, or had another flashback... The last thing he wanted was to trigger him when he'd made so much progress since September.

"It's, um, I got Carole to help us find out some information," Kurt began. He took one of Blaine's hands and squeezed, but Blaine didn't squeeze back. He looked confused, and even scared. "It's–I want you to know I'm doing this to help you, if you choose to do anything with it, okay?"

"Kurt, what–"

"Lee's still alive," Kurt said in a rush. "He– I haven't opened it yet, but I thought finding him, giving you a chance to see him, if you want to, might help some. It's a lot, but–"

"No," Blaine said immediately. He shook his head so hard Kurt was surprised it didn't spin off. "I can't–he's old and half-dead and after what– no."

"Honey, it's okay," Carole said as Blaine moved to leave. "We aren't going to force you into anything. It's just a suggestion. You can take it or not, whenever you decide."

Blaine crouched there, half up from the table as Burt wandered in for dinner.

"What's going on?"

"It's– nothing." Blaine took his seat again, but he didn't start eating. Kurt watched him stare at the envelope waiting on the table as his dad sat down next to Carole.

"It isn't nothing," Kurt countered. "It's– okay, maybe it was stupid not to say anything before, but Carole found Lee. The boy Blaine was friends with a long time ago. I thought maybe–if Blaine decides he wants to– they could see each other and talk."

"We aren't," Blaine snapped. "I can't."

"Can't or won't?" Kurt challenged. Blaine's breathing was evening out after the initial shock and he wasn't reacting like he once had. He was ready and Kurt was going to prove it to him.

"Both," Blaine said sharply. "I can't because it'll freak him out and I won't because it's done. What happened happened and he got to live with it and I got to wallow in it."

As Blaine picked his burger back up and tore off an enormous bite, Kurt, his dad, and Carole fell silent. He did need this, maybe more than Kurt had imagined and beyond Blaine's own understanding. Seeing him, seeing how Lee had coped with what he'd done to his childhood best friend, had to make Blaine wonder, make those memories stick like wet tar in his head.

"Sweetheart, we only want you to think about this," Carole said carefully. Blaine chewed angrily and glared at his plate. "It's up to you, but please, hear Kurt out before you make up your mind."

"I'd rather just eat dinner in peace," Blaine snipped. He dropped his elbows on the table so roughly it startled Kurt. For one amazing moment, the polite, dapper, perfect little gentleman from another time disappeared. Blaine, for all of his kind manners, was suddenly the teenage boy Kurt found himself being more than he cared to admit. Maybe he was starting to rub off a little too much.

"After dinner then," Kurt pressed. "I'm not letting this go until we have a real conversation, okay?"

"Fine. Whatever." Blaine gnawed on his burger as Finn trampled in and everyone went back to eating. It was sudden, how fast that shift had been, how moody and angry and hurt his Blaine could get. Was it at him? Or more at the idea behind it?

After dinner, Blaine tried to leave.

"Look, I've got a paper in history–"

"We do not, Blaine Devon Anderson. You just want to avoid me," Kurt said. "Look, we'll grab some popcorn, watch a movie, and talk. I love you, remember? I'm not trying to hurt you."

"That doesn't mean you aren't," Blaine mumbled, but Kurt heard it as he tugged him down to his room. And it hurt, a lot more than he would have thought. Loving and hurting could go both ways, even be the same thing sometime.

They settled down on the bed, Blaine rather reluctantly. Legs crossed, knee to knee, and hands clasped in the space between. The envelope was on his desk now, the golden yellow standing out sharply against the dark wood. Blaine's eyes were trained on it, like he was hoping his gaze would light it on fire. Kurt was sure he saw a spark.

"I'm sorry we sort of sprung that on you upstairs," Kurt began. "She just got the information and that wasn't how I was planning on telling you."

"I shouldn't have asked," Blaine said, stilling looking at the envelope across the room. "I should probably stop buying you flowers all the time, too." He glanced around at the vases decorating every inch of normally empty space. "I'm sorry, I'm awful at this."

Kurt tilted Blaine's face towards him. "No, you aren't. You're just scared. So am I. And I love the flowers, you goof, but you don't need to pile them all on me right now just because... because you won't be here soon, okay?"

"I'm sorry."

"No, stop. No more apologizing. You haven't done anything wrong," Kurt said. When Blaine only stared at their hands, Kurt let go and inched in, settling in Blaine's lap and curling his legs behind Blaine. Immediately, Blaine pressed his face into his neck and breathed deeply.

"I don't know how I'm supposed to leave you," Blaine said quietly. Kurt worked his hand through Blaine's hair and started pulled the gelled strands apart. "It was– god, it was almost a relief to die that day, you know that? No more parents staring at me like I'm their biggest failure. No more grandfather making sure I knew I was worthless. No kids I didn't know harassing me or friends afraid to touch me. No future where there wasn't one." He sniffled and kissed Kurt's neck. "I wish this was my life. Right here with you. Why can't we have this? All I ever wanted was to feel like I do with you."

"I wish I knew," Kurt whispered. "It just isn't. It isn't and somehow, we have to accept that."

Blaine nuzzled into his arms more and hugged him tight. For a long time they sat there together, until Kurt's legs were numb and Blaine's hair was starting to curl free from its gel.

"It's funny, isn't it?" Kurt asked. "When you first got here, you held me. You made everything better for me, and now I get to do that for you."

Blaine gave a watery laugh, and pulled his head back until they could look at each other. "Are you saying the tables have turned? 'Cause I vividly remember holding you last week while you cried over losing that eBay auction."

"That was a one of a kind scarf, Blaine! It was worth the tears!"

As Blaine snorted and the skin around his eyes crinkled up with laughter, Kurt shook his head and shoved him in the chest. Blaine flopped backwards and grinned up at him. "You know, I've been wanting to try this position when we're both naked."

Kurt slapped his chest again as he moved to climb off of Blaine's lap. Blaine had other ideas. He caught Kurt's hand and tugged him forward until Kurt's chest was resting on top of his and the heavy thud of his heart was pulsing through Kurt's skin. It wasn't fair that it wasn't real. But at the same time it was. As much as he wished sometimes, Kurt wouldn't trade days or moments like this for anything else.

They kissed slowly for a few minutes. Kurt pulled away first and instead rested his cheek on Blaine's chest. There were only so many chances left to just lay here together, to simply be them.

"We're going to rock at Nationals," Blaine murmured. He tangled his fingers through Kurt's hair and stroked his scalp. "And we get to see New York together. I can't wait for tomorrow."

"Mmm," Kurt agreed, but the envelope was in his sights again. "Blaine? Promise me you'll think about it? About seeing Lee when we get back. I can't imagine how terrible it must seem to you, but I think it'll do you good. Everything you're still clinging to, it's connected to him. I know it is. I can see it in your eyes every time we talk about it, and I hear it in your voice when you talk about it. Please, consider it."

Blaine's chest swelled with his deep breath. For a moment, Kurt thought he'd stopped breathing, but then his chest relaxed back into the bed, bringing Kurt with it. "I'll think about it, okay? But no promises beyond that. He'll probably have a heart attack just at the sight of me."

"He might be grateful to see you. You never know," Kurt suggested. He yawned and stretched out over Blaine. "What movie do you want to watch? Oh! I bought this new one off eBay. It's a filmed production of Into the Woods. Original Broadway Cast."

"Really? Is that the one with, um, Bernadette Peters? Is that her name?" Blaine asked as he sat up and watched Kurt bounce off to his DVD collection.

"Yes, it's lovely. Ready?"

"I think so."

Blaine couldn't sleep. He got up at the first sign of light in Kurt's bedroom window and got dressed. All night, he'd been a tornado. His thoughts kept bouncing him into New York City for the first time this afternoon and then way back, to splashing in a shallow creek and playing baseball all summer. With Lee. How could he even think about going back? Seeing him again wouldn't solve anything, but something hot gnawed at his insides whenever he thought about seeing what had become of that boy.

While Kurt slept, he carried all of their bags upstairs and started on breakfast. Today they were heading to New York City. For the first time, he was going to see the city he'd dreamed about sine he was a little boy, the place he still wished he could call home someday. Carole was the next up, not long after him.

She yawned as she shuffled into the kitchen and spotted him making scrambled eggs.

"Oh, sweetie, you don't have to make breakfast," Carole said. She yawned louder and stretched. "Let me help. Burt'll be down in a few minutes. Is Kurt up?"

"I let him sleep a little longer. I couldn't sleep."

"I'm surprised he could," Carole said. She smiled and bump him away from the stove. "I'll finish this up while you get him out of bed. It smells wonderful."

"There's toast in the toaster," Blaine told her as he back-pedaled into the hall.

He trampled downstairs and flicked the lights on. Kurt groaned, but a second later he bolted into a sitting position.

"New York today?"

"New York today," Blaine confirmed. He grinned as Kurt squealed and flung himself out of bed.

Blaine left Kurt to get dressed and came back to Carole setting the eggs and toast on the table. Burt had joined them, looking sleepy and as tousle-haired as a bald man could.

"I hear you've been up all night," Burt greeted.

Blaine nodded as he sat down and started eating. Kurt slid into the room a minute later, nearly toppling over from his speed. He stumbled into his chair beside Blaine and started flinging eggs into his mouth.

"Jeez, Kurt, slow down. I haven't seen you this hyper at five in the morning since the day you were born," Burt said. He yawned and started making egg-toast sandwiches.

"We're going to New York, Dad. I've only been dreaming about this since I was in diapers," Kurt reminded him. "And Blaine's been dreaming about it for decades."

Finn stumbled into the room in a football jersey and sweatpants. Blaine tensed and looked from the sleep prints on Finn's face to the egg-pouch in Kurt's cheek. But Finn only gave them all a half-wave and sat down.

"Aw, I wanted pancakes," Finn said. Blaine exhaled loudly as Kurt went back to eating. There were more and more close calls with Finn these days and Blaine wasn't sure how he hadn't caught on yet. Surely, Finn had to suspect something about his past by now. There were only so many times someone could walk in on references of Blaine being older than Burt and Carole before something clicked into place.

"All right, hurry up," Carole said. "We've got to get to McKinley in fifteen minutes."

Burt packed his egg-toast sandwich into a napkin, and Blaine shoveled the rest of his food into his mouth. Finn simply picked up his plate and tipped everything into his mouth. As Carole set everything in the sink, Kurt bound away for their luggage and started heaving it out to the car. They really should have gotten it all done last night, but Burt insisted on waiting. It hadn't taken Blaine more than an hour to figure out why. Every ten minutes last night, Kurt was unzipping his bag and switching one shirt out for another or adding another scarf or belt.

Lima was silent and empty as they drove across town. The few people who left for work this early never drove towards McKinley. The highway, and everything else, was in the opposite direction and in another hour they'd be out there, too. Blaine shivered as they pulled up alongside the gymnasium. There was one school bus parked at the curb and Mr. Schuester with a clipboard waiting at the doors.

"Gonna be a long ride in that thing," Burt said as they piled out and watched Finn start yanking their bags free. "Why didn't they get a Greyhound? New York's a good ten hours."

"Money," Kurt said. He stepped forward and helped Finn tug his suitcase out of the trunk. "Mr. Schuester isn't very good with math or budgets."

"No kidding."

Once their bags were free, they signed in with Mr. Schuester and picked seats on the bus for themselves and their luggage. They said their goodbyes to Burt and Carole, and watched everyone else arrive over the next twenty minutes.

Artie was next, his mom helping with the handicap bus lift. Blaine had never met her before, but she was surprisingly at ease with Artie heading off to New York City without her. Puck, Sam, Mike, and Tina all showed up in a rush, followed by Rachel in hysterics over whether or not she was guaranteed a solo. As Santana, Quinn, and Brittany settled in, Blaine snuggled up to Kurt.

"Are you going to sleep now?" Kurt asked. Blaine yawned into his shoulder and nodded.

"Okay, everyone! It's going to be a long drive, but I had Emma map out places to stop so..."

Blaine shut his eyes and fell asleep to Kurt rubbing his neck.

The walls were filthy. Blaine's eyes had barely adjusted to the light, but he could tell that everything was stained. He hoped it wasn't blood. Slowly, he sat up and looked around. There were carpet stains everywhere. Some were like small, rusted oxbow lakes and others like imprints of a person that had rotted for so long they'd melted into the carpet.

He swallowed and tried to remember how he'd gotten here. There'd been school that morning, shoving, boxing, and–

Blaine patted his chest, his shoulders, over his face. Skin. Smooth, normal skin. Had it been a dream then? Lee wouldn't do that to him. Not his best friend.

After looking around again, Blaine stood up. It was a small room with no furniture or windows. There wasn't even a picture on the wall. Just stains and what looked like shards of glass thrust into the far wall next to a folding closet door. He should leave, find a way out, and run. Something was wrong here, and every inch of his skin was creeping over his bones with fear.

But something on the closet door fluttered. A picture. But the sight made his stomach knot and kink. This was wrong. All of it was wrong and he couldn't explain why. Just as dizziness and sickness started to sweep up his throat, a door he hadn't noticed was pushed open.

It should have been a stranger there. Blaine knew that right down to his toes. A tall, balding, dark-skinned stranger that would sweep in and explain everything. That was what was supposed to happen now. Thomas. The man who had welcomed him to the Between. That was who should be there, only he wasn't. The room was horribly right, but this was wrong.

Lee was in the doorway, a bloody bat in hand and a grin on his face. The others were behind him, dragging someone who was screaming. He knew that voice, Blaine was sure of it. But it couldn't be. Not here, not with them. Kurt was after their time. Lee couldn't harm him, not like he could with Blaine.

"Ready for round two? I hear you've got a new boy who wants to join in the fun. Come play, Kurt. Blaine's dying to see you again."

Blaine woke with a sharp gasp.

"Ouch! Stop kicking my seat!"

Someone clubbed him over the head and Blaine reacted on instinct. His hands went up, his fists sealed tight, but someone else caught his arms.

"Puck, leave him alone," Kurt's sharp voice ordered. A second later, the last dredges of that filthy room slipped away and Kurt was in front of him. Pale, soft, untouched. Blaine dove into his arms and held on tight. "Blaine? Hey, it's okay."

Blaine breathed deeply and rubbed his tears into Kurt's shoulder. It was just a dream. A stupid one he'd had a hundred times. But now Kurt was there and he couldn't let that happen. Lee and Kurt were separate, utterly and forever. They were different lives and different times and he couldn't let that collide.

"Blaine?"

He sat back and looked Kurt over again. But he was fine. Of course he was. Lee wasn't here, he probably couldn't even walk anymore. He was what? Seventy now, or close to it.

"I'm– it was only a dream. I'm fine," Blaine said quietly. Kurt kissed him, but kept looking at him. It was almost like he knew what Blaine had seen. Maybe he did. He was starting to know him better than himself.

"We're almost here," Kurt said. Blaine exhaled loudly in relief. He didn't want to talk about it, not here with Puck glaring over the seat at him and the New York City skyline growing in the distance. "Later?"

"Okay, sure," Blaine agreed, but he wouldn't. His mind had been made up years ago when it came to Lee. That was a dead end he couldn't trot down again. But as the rest of the group start shoving their windows down and beaming at the towering city, Blaine only looked at Kurt. He was a dead end, too, and Blaine wasn't sure what to make of that.