Colour You In

It was always Kurt and Blaine. Always. Neither went anywhere without the other, and if you were to see them alone it would always look odd. They were like each other’s shadows, but not in a way that made them a nuisance to each other; quite the opposite actually. It was like they were a part of each other that seemed completely natural. The idea of them being separated was absurd and laughable.

Oh they weren’t together; not in the romantic sense at least. They were absolute best friends, and had been since Kurt stopped Blaine on the staircase at Dalton Academy. You could call it fate, I guess. There were dozens of boys surrounding Kurt on that day, and he could have picked any of them, but it was Blaine that stood out, whether Kurt knew it at the time or not.

When they first met, Kurt was a mess. Wrapped up in misery and pain, made worse every day by unforgiving taunts and violence, he felt lost and abandoned. He lived life in black and white; his world was monochrome and dull. But then Blaine came along. Wonderful, charismatic and kind Blaine. Blaine held his hand and guided him through, painting little bits of colour onto the canvas of his life as they went. When Kurt started his senior year, Blaine handed him over the brush, allowing Kurt to finish his own work of art.

And Blaine smiled the whole time, so proud of Kurt. Kurt thanked him almost every day for helping him see that life could be lived in colour, and almost every day Blaine assured Kurt that he knew it all along anyway. And yet, almost every day Blaine felt a small stab of envy because his canvas was still covered in a black and white sketch, waiting for the tiniest hint of colour that he had found even Kurt couldn’t provide.

*

The first time Kurt notices something’s amiss, it’s halfway through the school year and they are sitting in the choir room in the middle of glee practice.

Rachel is singing to Finn, surrounded by the rest of the glee club who move with a well-practised fluidity. Some song about miracles, Kurt thinks. Mostly he’s just there to dance and have a good time. They’ve won Sectionals and everyone is in high spirits.

All except Blaine, it would appear.

It’s not obvious to the untrained eye. Blaine is running in a circle around Rachel and Finn, clapping, spinning, harmonising all in perfect fashion. But he’s not smiling. Not really. He throws the odd, half-assed grin out to appease those who come up to him and want to dance with him, but once they move on, his face drops again.

When the song is over and everyone falls back into their seats, Kurt drops down next to Blaine and smiles at him.

“You okay?”

Blaine nods, his very convincing and ever-dreamy smile making another appearance.

“I’m awesome.”

Kurt doesn’t question it, because after that, Blaine’s smile doesn’t disappear. If anything, his mood seems to pick up and he decides to lead the club in another fun, bubblegum pop number, ensuring the stay of the celebratory atmosphere.

*

Nothing happens for another fortnight. Whatever had been bothering Blaine that afternoon is well out of the way, and he’s back on charming, charismatic form.

That is until Kurt rounds the corner to see Blaine fumbling for a book in his locker. He’s clutching a coffee tray in one hand and is trying to wrestle the book out with the other. Something has to give, and unfortunately it’s the coffee. It falls to the floor, spilling everywhere as the cups roll in different directions. Kurt hurries over to help, expecting to hear Blaine apologise to the passersby like he did when he dropped his notes all over the hall one time. But there is no apology. There is, however, a loud, rattling crash as Blaine kicks the locker by his foot with such force that it dents.

“Hey!” Kurt says, although he’s not scolding. Blaine spins around, the hard look on his face dissolving when he sees Kurt. “It’s just coffee. We can get some more.”

Blaine nods, rubbing the back of his neck.

“Yeah.” he says, his voice a little distant. “Yeah, sorry. Here, let me.”

*

A week later and everything changes. A week later, Blaine gets in a stupid fight with Sam about ... well, nothing of consequence really. Even Kurt can’t see why Blaine stormed out of the choir room, rage positively radiating from him. He leaves Blaine, just until glee club is dismissed, so he can calm down. But when Kurt finally finds him in the weight room, Blaine is anything but calm.

Kurt stops as soon as he walks through the door, which bangs against the wall, but doesn’t disturb Blaine. Blaine is focusing on the punching bag in front of him, glaring at it as he lays hit after hit on it. His hair is free of gel, sticking up at sporadic intervals around his head as sweat glistens on his forehead and rolls down his neck. With each hit, Blaine grunts, throwing his entire weight behind his fist as he goes for another punch. Kurt takes a few steps forwards towards Blaine. He knows Kurt is there at this point, because Kurt sees him throw a glance his way before returning his attention back to the bag.

“Blaine.”

“No.”

There’s another loud grunt and a thud. Kurt can feel the anger and heat pulsing in the air.

“Do you want to talk about it?” He offers, taking a seat on the wooden bench in front of Blaine.

Blaine does not reply, choosing to pound his fists into the punching bag in quick succession of each other instead. Kurt watches him for a while, waiting for him to work the anger out of his system, although he’s unsure of how long that’s going to take.

“I really don’t think Sam meant what he said.” Kurt says after a minute. “I think he just lacks a brain filter.”

Blaine lets out a hollow laugh as the bag swings away from him, slamming his fist forward when it returns.

“It’s not worth getting yourself this worked up over.”

“I don’t care.” Blaine says through clenched teeth.

“Well, you obviously do. Not that I understand why.” Kurt replies.

“I don’t care about Sam.”

Kurt frowns as he watches Blaine continue to assault the punching bag. He notices how Blaine hasn’t broken his rhythm once since Kurt has been there.

“Then what’s going on?”

“It’s not important.”

“I think it is.”

“I don’t care.”

Kurt’s eyes widen in shock at Blaine’s tone. Blaine throws Kurt an unreadable look before carrying on beating the bag.

“I’m sorry,” Blaine says, with a small shrug of the shoulders, “But I don’t want to talk about it.”

“I think it would help.” Kurt says, bouncing back from his shock. “There must be only so much beating an inanimate object up can help.”

“Please, Kurt, just drop it.” Blaine says, turning back to the bag.

“Blaine, I’m trying to help.”

“I said leave it alone.” Blaine grits out.

“I just want to-”

“I SAID STOP!” Blaine roars, spinning around to face Kurt.

Kurt stops, his mouth closing with an audible snap, leaving a silence broken only by their heavy breathing and the creaking swing of the punching bag. Kurt feels like the quiet is suffocating him. Blaine is glaring at him with such intensity that he doesn’t know if he should be scared or not.

“Why can’t you just leave me alone?” Blaine murmurs, his voice low and somewhat uneven.

“I-” Kurt stammers, unable to tear his eyes away from Blaine’s. He feels like his stare might set him on fire. “I just wanted to help you. You’ve not been right recently.”

There it is again, Blaine’s disbelieving, hollow laugh.

“Yeah?”

“Well, yeah.” Kurt says. “You just seem so wound up, so the littlest things make you angry. And your smile’s changed.” Blaine’s eyes grow just a fraction softer at this. Kurt wonders if he imagined it. “It doesn’t reach your eyes anymore.”

Blaine shakes his head and turns back to the punching bag, throwing another hit or two before clinging onto it, sagging against it and burying his face in the material which covers it. Kurt isn’t sure what to do, but he stands up and takes a tentative step towards Blaine. Blaine doesn’t react. He takes another and another until he’s standing next to Blaine.

“Please, let me help.”

Blaine shakes his head where it rests against the bag. Kurt can see that his eyes and face are screwed up.

“Say something.” Kurt’s voice is soft.

“I can’t.” Blaine says, almost groaning into the bag. “I’m so tired.”

“I can drive you home, if you like?” Kurt offers. “You can just get an early night and we can talk about this tomorrow?”

“No.” Blaine’s shaking his head again, but this time he pulls away from the bag to look at Kurt. “I’m tired.”

Kurt doesn’t understand; not straight away. He looks at Blaine, taking him all in; all his sweat, his flushed chest, his messy hair and his eyes.

His very round, large, brown eyes.

They look different. His eyebrows frame them differently, sort of drooping at the edges and his forehead creases slightly as he waits for Kurt to say something.

And then Kurt begins to notice more. He notices the slight redness to them, the dark shadows under them, and his chapped lips. He notices how Blaine’s posture is stooped, curving in on himself as his shoulders round forwards.

Blaine’s eyes shouldn’t be that heavy. They used to have gold in them.

Blaine looks so sad that Kurt can hardly stand it, and when this realisation hits him he lets out a tiny gasp. He feels something squeeze at his heart. How did he not realise sooner?

“I can’t keep doing this.” Blaine’s words crack as they leave him. “I have tried so hard to make it go away. I thought if I just powered through it, then it would disappear, you know? Everyone has bad days and they pass.” He shrugs at Kurt. “I’m just really tired of waiting, and I’m angry that I can’t make it stop.”

Kurt regains his composure and places his hand gently on Blaine’s arm. Blaine seems to lean into the touch, but only a fraction.

“I know how you feel.” he says gently, giving Blaine’s arm a squeeze. “I know how hard it is.”

“Exactly.” Blaine says, sad eyes still resting on Kurt’s. “That’s why I didn’t want to talk about it. You’ve just sorted yourself out; you don’t need me bringing you down.”

“You’re not bringing me down.” Kurt replied with a tentative smile which Blaine does not return. “You’re my best friend. We support each other.”

And Blaine is shaking his head again and Kurt doesn’t understand.

“I just can’t.”

He keeps saying that, but it doesn’t mean all that much to Kurt by itself. He breaks away from Kurt’s hand and rips off his gloves, throwing him in his gym back which lays discarded by his feet. He grabs the strap, slinging it over his shoulder before heading to the door. Kurt doesn’t know what to do, so he says the first thing which comes to mind.

“Can’t what?”

Blaine stops and turns back towards Kurt, hand on the doorknob. There’s that despairing look again and it nearly breaks Kurt.

“Do this.” He gestures aimlessly with his free hand.

“What?” Kurt feels his chest tighten. “Be friends?”

“No.” Blaine says quietly. “Just ... be, I guess.”

Blaine leaves the room, and Kurt feels something snap within him. By the time the door has closed, Kurt is crying and feeling more useless in that moment than he has in his entire life.

*

“Right guys,” Mr Schue says, clapping his hands together, “I hope you’ve all prepared your assignments.”

There’s a collective murmur of affirmation from around the choir room and Mr Schue beams.

“Excellent.” He says. “Who would like to go first?”

Hands shoot up in the air, but Kurt gets there first. Mr Schue beckons him forward and Kurt obliges, standing in front of the piano and turning to face the class.

“And what are you going to sing for us today?” Mr Schue asks.

“I Will Follow You Into The Dark.” Kurt replies, eyes falling on Blaine.

“Death Cab?” Tina asks, raising an eyebrow. “Really?”

Kurt narrows his eyes and gives a curt nod. Their assignment this week had been to sing about something which they’d always wanted to say out loud, but never had the chance to. A secret feeling, so to speak.

“When you’re ready, Kurt.” Mr Schue gestures at him, allowing him to begin.

Kurt nods once more and feels the piano begin behind him, solitary notes drifting over him and centring him. His eyes seek Blaine’s and find them wide, almost fearful.

“Love of mine, someday you will die, but I’ll be close behind, I’ll follow you into the dark...”

Blaine shifts in his seat, glancing down at the clasped hands in his lap. Kurt doesn’t avert his gaze.

“No blinding light or tunnels to gates of white, just our hands clasped so tight, waiting for the hint of a spark...”

Kurt’s vaguely aware of the curious whispers breaking out around Blaine as the glee club peer at him, but he ignores them. Blaine’s eyes are now decidedly fixed on his lap, yet Kurt still doesn’t budge as the song drifts on.

“You and me have seen everything to see, from Bangkok to Calgary...”

Blaine raises his face, red rimmed eyes making Kurt’s chest tighten. He notices how Blaine’s cheeks are slightly pink.

“And the soles of your shoes are all worn down, the time for sleep is now, it's nothing to cry about 'cause we'll hold each other soon in the blackest of rooms...”

Blaine takes a breath, his chest rising heavily as he shifts in his seat again, this time not deterring his gaze.

“If Heaven and Hell decide that they both are satisfied, illuminate the ‘nos’ on their vacancy signs, if there's no one beside you when your soul embarks, then I'll follow you into the dark.”

There’s a pause as Kurt’s voice and the piano fade into nothing, and then applause, quiet a first before growing louder. Kurt ignores the quizzical expressions and open mouths for questioning as he smiles gently at Blaine before taking his seat.

Mr Schue decides not to comment on Kurt’s performance, instead urging other members of the club to perform, and they do. Mercedes, Puck and Santana all sing to rapturous applause. Rachel’s performance was her usual melodramatic flair and returns to her seat somewhat teary eyed.

“Wow Rachel, is that really how you feel?” Santana’s voice oozes sarcasm as she turns to Rachel. “I mean, I don’t know about any of you guys,” she looks to the other members of the club, “but I had no idea she felt that way about Frankenteen. Honestly, Berry, probably the best kept secret of the – oh, wait, my bad. I forgot that I can’t go a damn day in this place without seeing you trying and suck his organs out through his mouth.”

“Santana.” Mr Schue says, trying for a warning tone in his voice. Kurt rolls his eyes. “Not today.”

Santana shrugs and leans back in her chair as Rachel glares at her. Finn tugs her towards him and that seems to placate her.

“Right, next up.” Mr Schue scans the room. “Blaine? Do you have something prepared?”

Blaine looks a little startled but nods all the same. He descends to the piano, and Brad stands up quickly, moving to the back.

“I hope you don’t mind,” Blaine says, seating himself in front of the keys, “But I thought I’d accompany myself today.”

“Not at all.” Mr Schue smiles. “Ready when you are.”

Blaine nods and flexes his fingers over the ivory before touching down. The first few bars are slow and melancholy. Kurt’s breath hitches.

“Hello, hello, anybody out there? 'Cause I don't hear a sound. Alone, alone, I don't really know where the world is but I miss it now...”

Kurt feels his face grow hot as Blaine continues to sing and glance over at the band. There’s the briefest of drum rolls and the band swings in to accompany him.

“Listen, listen, I would take a whisper if that's all you have to give, but it isn't, isn't, you could come and save me try to chase it crazy right out of my head...”

He’s watching Kurt now, brow furrowed and eyes almost pleading. Kurt finds himself leaning forward as Blaine’s face crumples slightly, fingers flying across the keys and veins beginning to show in his red neck. Suddenly he’s on his feet, kicking over the piano stool and slamming his hands onto the keys.

“I don't wanna be down and I just wanna feel alive and get to see your face again. But 'til then just my echo, my shadow, you’re my only friend...”

Kurt bites his lip, vision swimming as he watches Blaine throw himself into the song.

“I'm out on the edge and I'm screaming my name like a fool at the top of my lungs. Sometimes when I close my eyes I pretend I'm alright, but it's never enough. ‘Cause my echo, echo, oh my shadow, shadow...”

Blaine bows his head, voice cracking towards the end.

“Hello, hello, anybody out there?”

This time there is no applause. In fact, there’s no noise at all. Kurt blinks away his tears as Blaine stands from the piano, face pained as if the song physically exhausted him. His eyes meet Kurt’s for the briefest of moment before he excuses himself and leaves the choir room.

*

“What’s going on?” Kurt asks as Rachel drags him into the choir room.

“We’re having an emergency meeting.” Rachel replies briskly, all but throwing him into a free chair.

Kurt glances around the room as the rest of the choir.

“Where’s Blaine?”

“In the weight room with Finn.” Puck says. “Don’t worry, we’re covered.”

“Covered for what exactly?” Kurt asks again. “Rachel!”

Rachel rounds on him from her position by the piano and straightens herself out, tossing her hair over her shoulder.

“We’re staging an intervention.”

“For what? I didn’t-”

“Not you, idiot.” Santana snaps. “Blaine. Were you even listening to his song the other day?”

“Of course he was, Santana. Blaine practically sang it to him.” Rachel says, rolling her eyes. “Basically,” Rachel turns her attention back to Kurt, “We want to help Blaine. It was quite obvious by his performance at our last rehearsal that he is in some sort of emotional distress, and-”

Kurt can’t help but snort at that.

“I think it’s a little heavier than emotional distress.”

“How much do you know?” Santana asks, narrowing her eyes.

“Enough. It’s not my place to share.”

“How much is enough?”

“Maybe enough to know that he could use a little help.”

“Excellent!” cries Rachel, clapping her hands together. “Then it’s a good thing I enlisted the help of the Warblers.”

“The Warb- Rachel!” Kurt yelps. “I don’t think he’d appreciate you going back to his old school and telling everyone there about his personal issues.”

“I didn’t.” Rachel says tightly. “Well, not really. They knew something was up. He’s not spoken to any of them in over a month.”

“Which is why we’re banding together.”

Everyone turns their attention to the voice drifting over from the doorway to see Wes striding into the room, followed closely by the rest of the Warblers. Rachel beams and scampers over to them, practically bouncing on the balls of her feet.

“This is excellent. You’re all right on time. Now everyone come to the piano so we can start to warm up.”

“Not that I’m not thrilled to see you all,” Kurt says, standing and walking over to the piano, “But what kind of intervention were you thinking of staging?”

“The musical kind, of course.” Rachel says, irritation in her voice evident.

“Right, of course.” Kurt sighs. “What did you have in mind?”

*

“Whatever happens,” Kurt says as he walks Blaine over to his seat in the auditorium, “Please don’t leave until it’s over, okay?”

“Okay?” Blaine replies uncertainly as he sits down. “Why would I?”

“It’s just ...” Kurt struggles for the right words. “I don’t want you to get the wrong idea and get mad, okay? This is just us trying to help. This is a bunch of ragtag misfits - who are on the whole, unbelievably self-absorbed - trying to help. Well, us and a group of ‘upstanding’ young gentle-”

“Kurt!”

Rachel’s shriek cuts him off mid sentence and he sighs.

“Upstanding young gentlemen?” Blaine asks. Kurt shrugs.

“Just listen, okay?”

“Okay.”

Kurt smiles before turning around and hurrying back to the stage, where Rachel is stood front and centre already talking to Blaine where he sits.

“It has come to our attention recently that you are unhappy, Blaine.” Rachel begins as Kurt takes his place next to her. Kurt can see Blaine squirming already. “And whilst I am all for throwing one’s emotions into a song, sometimes those emotions are unhealthy and-”

“Rachel.” Kurt hisses, nudging her in the side. “Get on with it.”

“Right, yes, sorry.” She says. “We wanted you to know that we are all here to help, whenever you need someone to talk to.”

“Not just us.” Kurt says, smiling softly. “Some old friends of yours noticed something was up and wanted to help us.”

And on cue the Warblers file out from the wings of the stage, joining the New Directions on stage and smiling broadly at Blaine. Kurt notices Blaine sink down in his chair.

“We all love you, Blaine.” David says as the entire choir nods enthusiastically. “So this is for you.”

The lights fade to black and a soft snare and guitar fill the air. Then, a single spot falls on the middle of the stage, illuminating Kurt as he begins to sing.

“Tough, you think you’ve got the stuff. You’re telling me and anyone, you’re hard enough.”

Kurt can’t see Blaine in the dark auditorium anymore, but he prays to whoever is listening that he hasn’t left yet.

“You don’t have to put up a fight. You don’t have to always be right. Let me take some of the punches for you tonight.”

The stage lights flare up from the behind, backlighting the entire choir as Kurt continues. He can see Blaine a little now, and takes a step forward.

“Listen to me now, I need to let you know, you don’t have to go it alone.”

A multitude of voices rise up in unison, moving gracefully across the stage and out to Blaine.

“And it’s you when I look in the mirror, and it’s you when I don’t pick up the phone.”

Kurt falls back into the group as they begin to sway.

“Sometimes you can’t make it on your own.”

The Warblers move forward with Nick, Thad and David taking the lead. They stand together, united in their message.

“I know that we don’t talk. I’m sick of it all.”

Then everyone is moving together again, standing in one long line across the stage, with Kurt and a few of the Warblers in the middle, splitting into harmony.

“Can you hear me when I sing?”

Kurt leads everyone as the harmony swells behind him, rolling off of the stage and into the auditorium.

“You are the reason I sing. You’re the reason why the opera is me. Hey now, still gotta let you know, a house doesn’t make a home.”

Kurt abandons the group, walking right to the edge of the stage and out from under the lights as he seeks Blaine out.

“Don’t leave me here alone.”

He stays there as the choir carry the rest of the song through, desperately wanting to abandon them all and go to Blaine.

“And it’s you when I look in the mirror, and it’s you that makes it hard to let go. Sometimes you can’t make it on your own. Sometimes you can’t make it, the best you can do is to fake it. Sometimes you can’t make it on your own.”

The song fades out and the lights come up. There’s silence, save for the heavy breathing of the people on stage as they wait for a response. They watch as Blaine stands up, moving awkwardly on his feet.

“Um, guys.” His voice is hoarse. “That was really... that was a really great performance, thanks.”

Everyone glances at each other. Is this what they wanted to happen?

“I... I, um.” He falters and looks down at his feet quickly, gripping the back of the seat in front of him before lifting his face back up again. “Thank you. Sorry.”

And then he walks along the row of seats, back up the stairs and out of the auditorium, leaving everyone else standing on the stage in silence. No, this is not what they wanted to happen.

*

Kurt can’t find Blaine when he leaves the auditorium, and he’s panicking. Kurt’s calling him and running through the empty school and out into the parking lot, only to find Blaine’s car has gone. He swears, screaming at the sky and kicking the nearest wall. He feels so lost; out of his depth and terrified about what is going to happen now. He feels his phone buzz in his hand.

I’m okay, please stop calling me. I just want to be alone for now. I’ll see you tomorrow.

Kurt groans and closes his eyes. He just desperately wants Blaine to feel okay.

*

The next day Kurt goes home with Blaine after school. They don’t really talk about what happened in the auditorium, and Kurt doesn’t want to push it in case Blaine gets angry again. They make idle chat all the way to Blaine’s house, which continues when they make drinks and snacks and settle down at the kitchen table. Kurt swallows a mouthful of chocolate chip banana bread before taking a swig of milk, and allows his gaze to drift over to the refrigerator door.

“I think it’s so sweet that your mom still has those pictures stuck to the fridge.” He notes, nodding to the trio of childish paintings held up by magnets.

“What?” Blaine asks thickly. He follows Kurt’s line of sight and swallows before nodding. “Oh yeah. I did them when I was in kindergarten. Apparently I came home acting like the next Michelangelo or something.” He finishes with a chuckle.

“The art world is most definitely missing out.” Kurt smiles. “I bet you could still sell them as modern art.”

“Maybe.” Blaine says with a snort. “Everything was easier when finger painting was the biggest challenge of the day.” Blaine mutters under his breath, just as he takes another bite of cake. “God, this stuff is so good.”

*

“Blaine! Stop! Please!”

“Go away, Kurt!”

Blaine tries to close the front door in Kurt’s face, but Kurt’s too quick and shoves his boot in the way, wedging the door open. Blaine lets out a frustrated groan and then he’s gone, up the stairs and away from Kurt. Kurt’s after him in a second.

“Blaine!”

He hurtles up the stairs after Blaine and into his bedroom. Blaine is standing in the middle of his bedroom, eyes and hair wild, face red and screwed up.

“Please just leave.” He bites out, fists clenched at his sides.

“No.” Kurt says firmly, shaking his head. “You’ve been miserable all day. You shouldn’t be alone right now.”

“Why?” Blaine sneers. “Don’t you trust me?”

“Of course I do! But you can’t keep running from this, Blaine.” Kurt says. “Whatever it is that’s eating you up, it has to be dealt with. You need to be honest with someone, if not yourself.”

“I’m dealing with it, okay?” Blaine snaps. “Let me deal with it by myself.”

“Did you let me deal with it by myself?”

“Don’t.”

“Why not? I let you help me when I needed it. Why can’t you let me do the same thing?”

“Because I don’t need anyone’s help! Okay? You’re not my fucking keeper, Kurt. It’s not your job to look after me.”

“I know it’s not.” Kurt says calmly. “But you need to talk to someone, whether it’s me, a professional, your parents-”

Blaine starts laughing, but there’s no light in it. It’s cold.

“A professional? No way. And my parents? Don’t make me fucking laugh. They’ve spent so long trying to white wash over my mistakes already, and I’d hate to add another to the list.” He drawls.

“Blaine, feeling like this, it isn’t a mistake. It’s not a choice you made. It just is.” Kurt says moving towards Blaine. “There’s nothing wrong with you for feeling the way you do, but it is wrong that you think you can just let it slide. You can’t bury this somewhere and hope that it goes away. You need to deal with it.”

“I am!” Blaine roars.

“No you’re not!” Kurt shouts back, forgetting his composure. “You keep brushing it off like it doesn’t matter; like you don’t matter. But you do. Fuck, Blaine. You’re treating yourself like crap and it’s not okay. If you keep this up, it will eat away at you until there’s nothing left to give. Stuff like this, depression-”

“Don’t use that word. I’m not crazy.” Blaine hisses.

“No, you’re not. Of course you’re not. But Blaine, if you keep this monster locked up in you, it’s going to burst out one day and I won’t be there to stop it.” Kurt’s voice cracks and he moves a little closer to Blaine. “I can’t lose you to this. This isn’t who you are.”

“Yes it is. This is exactly who I am. I deserve everything that I get.”

“Why do you think you deserve this?” Kurt cries. “The Blaine I know is-”

“You need to leave.” Blaine says, voice firm and cold. “Now, Kurt, I’m not kidding.”

Kurt doesn’t move.

“Before I make you. I won’t ask again.”

Kurt nods slowly, feeling his heart sink.

“I... Just – if you need anything, call me, okay?”

Blaine doesn’t reply and Kurt sees himself out. He’s halfway down the drive when he hears a faint clatter from behind him. He turns around to see Blaine’s pocket watch, which his grandfather gave him, lying on the concrete. He walks over to it, looking from its dented brass body and up at Blaine’s open window. Sighing, he picks it up, pockets it and continues down towards his car.

*

I’m so sorry about yesterday. I was way out of line. I don’t know what I can do to make it up, but perhaps I could start with buying you lunch?

*

A few more weeks go by, and Blaine just seems to be spiralling down. Rather than lash out at people, he now spends most of the day silent with an expressionless face. This is when Kurt reaches the end of his tether, so to speak. He’s going to make this all alright. He’s going to do everything he can to make Blaine happy again.

“Hey.” Kurt says, approaching Blaine at his locker that Friday. “What are you doing tomorrow night?”

*

“Right on time!” Kurt says brightly as he opens his front door.

“I am nothing if not punctual.” Blaine smiles.

“Oh, I don’t know about that.” Kurt teases. “C’mon mister, I’ve got a surprise for you.”

“What? Really?” Blaine asks, following Kurt through the house towards the back.

“Yup.” He spins on his heel to face Blaine with a mischievous grin. “But you have to close your eyes first.”

“Seriously?” Blaine raises his eyebrow.

“Seriously. Don’t worry, I’ll guide you. I won’t let you fall. Promise.”

“Okay. I trust you.” Blaine replies, closing his eyes and stretching out his hands for Kurt to take. “Lead the way!”

So Kurt does, taking them through the kitchen and out of the back doors to the garden. He guides Blaine to stand in the middle of the deck, facing out to the garden.

“Don’t move, okay?”

“Not a muscle.” Blaine says.

Kurt smiles affectionately before dropping Blaine’s hands and hurrying over to the PA system at the side. He fumbles with a few dials and buttons until he hears the speakers placed around the garden crackle with life. He then presses play on his iPod and turns to Blaine, waiting just a fraction of a second before speaking.

“Okay, open your eyes.”

Blaine does so slowly at first, but then his eyes fly open and he’s swaying gently on the spot.

Kurt’s garden has been transformed beyond all recognition. Blaine’s gaze moves from one side of the deck where they stand to the other, gazing at the tables with flank him on either side, surrounded by candles. Some are on the floor, some are on lofty stands, which look to be made of iron, and some are on the table themselves. In amongst the candles are various objects, some of which glitter in the light of the flames which surround them.

Blaine then turns his attention to what’s in front of him. Down the small flight of steps to the garden path are yet more candles, leading to a trail of torches which stand tall and illuminated above various cards taped to the stone.

At the end of this path is Kurt’s willow tree, and its long, drooping branches covered in thousands of lights. They wind and twist over the wood, right to the centre of the tree and around the trunk, making it glow in an almost ethereal way. Blaine’s mouth falls open slightly as he takes it in, eyes roaming over the shining branches.

“What do you think?”

Blaine turns to Kurt standing beside him. Kurt notices how Blaine’s face glows wonderfully in the light. He waits for Blaine to reply, biting gently on his lip.

“It’s...” Blaine pauses. “It’s astonishing.”

“Is that a good thing?” Kurt asks.

“Oh, very much so.” Blaine replies, almost breathless.

Kurt beams.

“Fantastic. Come on.”

“Kurt, what is this?”

“Just come with me.”

He gestures for Blaine to follow him to the table nearest to him, on their right hand side. They stand in front of a family portrait in a gold frame, and Blaine frowns. The dark haired adults have their hands resting on the shoulders of a very innocent looking young boy. His curls have been plastered to his head, making his hair look plastic. His eyes are bright and round, a stark contrast to the lifeless stares of the people behind him.

“Where did you find this?”

“In your house.” Kurt says. “It’s not the original, don’t worry. I had a copy made for this.” 

“And what is ‘this’, again?”

“This,” Kurt motions to the glittering garden, “Is for you. This is to show you what is worth living for; to help you see the light, so to speak.”

“Like Tangled?”

“No, like the four hours I spent on Finn’s shoulders, and in a tree, because we don’t appear to have a ladder.” Kurt replies with a huff.

Blaine chuckles lightly, a smile tugging at his lips as Kurt’s expression softens.

“This is me trying to convince you that staying alive is the best thing for you to do.” Kurt admits.

“So you showed me my parents?”

Kurt’s face falters just a fraction, before he straightens himself out and shrugs.

“It was worth a shot. Come on, next table.”

He nudges Blaine and they walk over to the other side of the deck, to the other table which has an old pocket watch on it, with a slight dent in the top.

“My grandfather’s watch?”

Kurt nods.

“I found it after you threw it out of the window. I fixed it, so it still works if you want it back.”

Blaine picks it up, fingers running lightly across the patterns in the brass. He turns it over in his hands and opens it to find that it is, indeed, in good working order. He looks at Kurt, who is rapidly licking his lips and staring at him somewhat expectantly.

“He would be disappointed.” Blaine says flatly, dropping the watch back on the table with a thud. “Anderson men are strong. They don’t give up and they don’t back down from a challenge.”

“I know.” Kurt says softly. “He wouldn’t be disappointed.”

“He would.” Blaine’s tone is hard and unyielding.

Kurt shakes his head.

“You are everything an Anderson man should be, and so much more.” When Blaine merely scoffs and shakes his head, Kurt continues. “We wouldn’t be standing here if you weren’t.”

Blaine’s posture stiffens at those words. Kurt watches as his chest heaves for a moment and he sucks his bottom lip into his mouth. He’s scowling, but whether it’s at the watch or not, Kurt can’t decide.

“I mean it.” Kurt gives Blaine’s shoulder a squeeze. “There’s more. Come on.”

Blaine follows him down the steps from the deck to the path, stopping at the first card they come to. Blaine peers down at it and frowns.

“When you feel like giving up, remember why you held on for so long in the first place?” Blaine raises an eyebrow. “Did you write that?”

“No, I don’t have a gift with words.” Kurt sighs. “It’s a quote I found last Christmas. It helped me a lot.”

“Right.”  

“They continue up the path,” Kurt gestures before him, “And these are only some of the ones I found. I have at least a hundred more.”

He begins to walk forward, motioning for Blaine to move after him. They walk over quote after quote, until Blaine stops.

“Wars are not won by evacuations.” Blaine recites, staring at the card.

“Yeah. Churchill said that, if I remember correctly.”

“Wise. Kind of tenacious.” Blaine says, looking up at Kurt.

“Reminds me of someone else I know.”

“I could say the same.”

A hush falls and both boys just watch each other for a moment. Kurt notices how the fire surrounding them is reflected in Blaine’s eyes, and it reminds him of a time when it used to be there of its own accord. Blaine’s forehead crumples just a little, and his mouth tugs down at the corners. He breathes in, deep and shaky, and without thinking, Kurt takes Blaine’s hand in his, lacing their fingers together and moving closer.

“One last thing.” he whispers, walking towards the tree.

The reach the glowing branches, which Kurt gently pushes aside and walks to the trunk, pulling Blaine along with him. In front of the trunk is a patchwork blanket, spread out across the grass. Cushions are scattered around either end, curving around two large silk ones which face each other. Towards the back are two hampers, both covered by cloths, and pictures are dangling from lower branches, slowly turning in circles above everything else.

“What’s this?” Blaine gasps softly, fingering at a picture of Kurt and himself from last Christmas which dangles in front of him. He doesn’t remove his hand from Kurt’s grasp.

“Well, this is my gift to you.” When Blaine gives him a look that clearly says ‘And the rest wasn’t?’, Kurt finds himself smiling. “The rest was me using everyone else; their words, to inspire you. This is just for us.”

He gives Blaine’s hand an affectionate squeeze before letting go and gesturing to the purple cushion on their left. Blaine goes over and plops down on it, crossing his legs underneath him as Kurt does the same on the emerald cushion in front.

“I’ve got a few bits and pieces to give you later on,” Kurt says, “But first of all; dinner!”

He grins and reaches for the hamper closest to Blaine, pulling off the cloth which covers it. Food and drink is packed inside, spilling over the top, and Kurt’s arm visibly shakes when he picks it up and settles it in front of him.

“Well I’ve got a lot of stuff in here, mostly fresh fruit and veg., and cold meats, because I’ve had it sitting out here for an hour or so.” Kurt babbles, pulling things out of the basket. “But it’s all good to eat, I swear. And I got some non-alcoholic wine,” he up glances worriedly at Blaine at this point, “It’s tried and tested. It doesn’t taste like that crap we have at Rachel’s dinner parties.” Blaine lets out a light laugh, which makes Kurt smile. “But if that’s not to your taste, then I have juice and soda.”

“Wait, sugary drinks?” Blaine quirks an eyebrow.

“Don’t get used to it. This is a special occasion.”

Blaine’s laugh is there again and it’s music to Kurt’s ears. He can’t help but beam. He fishes some plates out from the hamper and hands one over to Blaine, followed by containers of food.

“Do you have like, some forks or anything to get these out?” Blaine asks, taking the lid off of a box of tomatoes.

“No, I only brought a few bits of cutlery for cutting things up and the potato salad etc.”

“Does that mean I have to use my hands?” Blaine raises his eyebrows in mock astonishment. “Kurt Hummel, what’s gotten into you?”

“I said it was a special occasion.” Kurt quips, pouring two glasses of wine. “Here you go.” He hands one to Blaine, holding his out for a toast.

“What are we toasting to?” Blaine asks, setting down his Tupperware and holding his glass out to meet Kurt’s.

“You.” Kurt replies with an easy smile. He knocks their glasses together before Blaine has a chance to respond. “Cheers!”

Blaine just sort of nods, but doesn’t take a drink until a good minute later, and judging by the look of surprise on his face, Kurt was right about the wine. They sit and eat in companionable silence for a while, perhaps breaking it with small talk about school and the weather, but mostly they just concentrate on their food and drink.

“Oh man, I don’t think I can eat anymore.” Blaine announces eventually, rubbing his hand over his stomach.

“It wasn’t a competition, Blaine. If you’re full then you can stop.” Kurt says with a smirk, nibbling on a piece of cucumber.

Blaine laughs and leans back, putting his weight on his hands and eying up the second hamper.

“You want to know what’s in the second hamper.” Kurt states.

“Well, yeah.”

Kurt finishes his mouthful before leaning over to grab Blaine’s empty plate. He then stacks the dishes and puts them to one side before bringing the second hamper to sit in front of him.

“This one is basically full of ... stuff. Like, bits and pieces that I thought you’d might like.”

“What kinds of bits and pieces?”

“Well, there’s this,” Kurt says, pulling out a Tupperware container and handing it to Blaine, who opens it.

“Oh my god!” Blaine shrieks. “You made me chocolate chip banana cake!”

“Don’t eat it now. Save it for later, and even then, don’t eat it all at once.” Kurt says, dipping back into the hamper. “I got you this, too.”

He hands Blaine a small, red box, tied up with gold ribbon. Blaine makes easy work of the bow, and fumbles with the lid a little before pulling out a red and blue striped bow tie. He looks up at Kurt with wide eyes.

“I noticed that you stopped wearing bow ties.” Kurt says. “And I know how much you miss Dalton, so I got you that as like, a little memento or something. Well, made. But still, I think-”

“Thank you.” Blaine says, his voice full of sincerity as he gazes back down at the tie. “It’s... it’s really – thank you.”

“Oh, it was no bother. Really.” Kurt says brightly. Blaine is still looking at the tie, so he continues. “I also thought we could do this.”

Blaine draws his attention back up as Kurt pulls out a large wad of paper and sets it on the ground next to him, followed by tube after tube of brightly coloured paint and a bundle of brushes.

“These are just in case.” Kurt gives the brushes a little shake. “But I remembered how you said you really liked finger painting, so I thought we could do some now.”

Blaine is just staring between the paint and Kurt, and not saying a word.

“Oh god.” Kurt panics, feeling his face grow hot. “Were you joking? Oh my god you were joking. We can do something else if you want I think I have Die Hard on DVD and we can watch-”

“Kurt.”

Kurt stops babbling, panting a little.

“You remembered what I said about finger painting?”

“Yeah.” Kurt says, straightening himself out a little. “You said you liked it because it was simple.”

“But I just kind of muttered it...”

Kurt shrugs.

“I was still listening.”

These words seem to have an effect on Blaine, as he’s suddenly blinking rather quickly and jutting out his jaw slightly. Kurt chooses to let it slip and picks up the wad of paper, splitting it half and handing one stack over to Blaine.

“What colour do you want to use first?”

*

Twenty minutes later and they sit in a sea of colour. Dozens of pictures are scattered around the boys as they smear paint everywhere, creating abstract art, or just a good old-fashioned mess. The playlist which Kurt had set to play as soon as they entered the garden is still drifting through the air, and everything is glowing. Every now and then Kurt will watch Blaine for just a second longer than he needs to, soaking in the simple joy that is rolling off of him as he paints with his hands. Kurt finds himself smiling when Blaine’s tongue pokes out of the corner of his mouth, forehead screwed in concentration as he stares at a blank page.

“What’s up?” Kurt asks.

“I’m trying to decide what to paint next.”

Blaine looks around at his other pictures of butterflies, flowers, rainbow robots, and one rather unflattering picture of Kurt. Suddenly, he claps his hands together and smiles.

“Got it!”

He grabs a tube of blue paint and squirts it directly onto his hand, before rubbing his palms together and spreading it everywhere.

“What on earth are you doing?” Kurt questions.

“Making turkeys!” Blaine announces proudly, slamming his hands down with a splat on the paper in front of him. “Try it! It’s so much fun!”

“I think I’ll stick to this, for now.” Kurt replies, stroking his brush gently across the paper in front of him.

“You’re not even using your hands! You can’t finger paint with brushes, Kurt. It’s breaking the rules.”

“There are no rules in finger painting, Blaine.”

“There are! The big one’s in the title!”

Kurt rolls his eyes at Blaine before continuing with his painting.

“I just don’t want to get messy. I honestly don’t see what the big deal -”

Kurt freezes when two cold, wet hands land on his cheeks with a squelch. Then his face is guided up to meet Blaine’s, lit up and brilliantly mischievous under the canopy of lights and photographs as he kneels above Kurt.

“I said it’s in the rules.” Blaine says with a grin.

“If I recall, the rule you were so adamant about had something to do with fingers, not faces.”

Blaine shrugs, not removing his hands from Kurt’s face.

“Well, if you’re allowed to break the rules, then why can’t I?”

“Ah, right. I see.” Kurt nods thoughtfully, fingers curling around his paint brush. “Well in that case...”

He puts the brush to Blaine’s nose, swiping it across the tip and down to his chin in one fluid movement, beaming with pride as Blaine tries to cross his eyes to see the pink stripe on his face.

“Did you just...” Blaine gasps. “You painted me!”

“I learned from the master.” Kurt winks.

Something sparks in Blaine’s mind and he removes his hands from Kurt in a flash, lunging back to where he was sitting and grabbing the first tube of paint he can reach.

“Allow me to continue my lesson then!” he cries, spinning back to face Kurt. “Never let your guard down!”

He squeezes the tube as hard as he can, and ribbons of canary yellow fly forward, landing across Kurt’s neck and chest.

“Blaine!” Kurt shrieks.

“Don’t worry! It matches your blue handprints.” Blaine giggles.

“Oh, it’s on.”

Suddenly, there’s screaming mingling with Kurt’s playlist, and paint soaring through the air as each boy rapidly becomes covered in colour. The hampers lay strewn across the grass, with ripped paper and empty food containers. Kurt sees Blaine fumbling with the cap on a bottle of red paint, and takes the chance to hurl himself at Blaine, knocking him to the ground. Blaine shouts and the tube falls out of his grip as he rolls onto his back and grapples with Kurt as he smears paint through his curls.

And then as soon as it started, it’s over. The music is still drifting through the branches of the starry willow, and Kurt is lying on top of Blaine as they both pant, his face tucked into Blaine’s neck. He smells like paint. Kurt pushes himself up a little, resting on his forearms which are either side of Blaine’s head. He feels Blaine’s finger flex on his hip as he smiles.

“Frank Sinatra.”

“Yeah.” Kurt breathes.

“I love this song.”

“Yeah.”

There’s silence. They’re both breathing heavily, but they’re not sure why. Kurt can see the lights of the tree in Blaine’s eyes. They’re alight like galaxies.

“You’re not mad about the paint, are you?” Blaine asks tentatively.

“No,” Kurt laughs a little, “Not at all. I gave as good as I got anyway.”

“Oh, I wouldn’t count on that.”

“I would. You look like a work of art.”

Blaine’s chuckle is light and he closes his eyes briefly. When he opens them, he looks just past Kurt.

“I wouldn’t count on that either.”

“Blaine-”

“I should probably get going.” Blaine says, shifting under Kurt. “It’s pretty late.”

“Please stay.” Kurt says, as Blaine scrambles out from underneath him. “There’s still more to-”

“Kurt.” Blaine cuts him off, turning to face him.

It’s odd to see Blaine look so pained with such a colourful exterior.

“Kurt.” Blaine says again. “Thank you for a wonderful evening, really. But...” His head drops slightly. “I still don’t... I mean, I can’t.” He’s looking at Kurt like he’s absolutely desperate for him to understand something he can’t quite articulate.

“I don’t understand.” Kurt says gently.

“I don’t believe you.” Blaine’s voice is very quiet.

“Pardon?”

“This whole thing.” Blaine gestures around them, not really looking at Kurt. “It’s really nice, but I don’t get it. I don’t get why you would go to this much effort to make me happy.” He sucks in a shaky breath. “I don’t believe that you actually like me.”

“What? That doesn’t make any-”

“I know it doesn’t make sense to you.” Blaine says. “But I can’t stop myself from thinking it. I got the thought in my head one day, and now I’m trapped.”

Kurt honestly feels like he’s about to burst into tears, but whether it’s due to frustration, empathy or confusion, he doesn’t quite know. He feels like he has one final shot. He’s ten seconds away from the end of the game, and he has to make it count.

“I love you.”

The words are out of Kurt’s mouth before he has a chance to stop them. They catch him by surprise, but it looks like Blaine physically felt them smack him across the face. He’s gone pale. Kurt doesn’t care. He has to make it count.

“I love you. In so many crazy, stupid ways. You need to know that, okay?” He’s not sure if he wants Blaine to answer at this point. “You need to know that you are my best friend, and I love you, unconditionally and irrevocably. Okay?”

Blaine doesn’t reply, not even with a nod or shake of the head. His eyes seem to have grown a fraction wider.

“Without you, I am nothing.” Kurt says, locking eyes with Blaine. “In fact, I don’t want to be anything without you, Blaine. You make me want to be better, and you make me believe in good people, and hope for the future. If it wasn’t for you, I’m not sure I would have made it to my eighteenth birthday. You helped me rebuild myself from practically nothing and start planning for a future. I don’t want that future if you’re not in it.”

Kurt’s vaguely aware of his voice starting to shake and his eyes stinging, but he carries on regardless.

“You are beyond description, Blaine.” Kurt continues. “I could sit here for hours pulling up adjectives and poetry and songs that go some way in helping me to show you how wonderful you are, but it would never be enough, because it’s all too generic. You are one of a kind; nothing short of amazing in every way and it breaks my heart that you don’t see even a fraction of that.”

He’s crying now; tears falling thick and fast down his face as he moves closer to Blaine.

“And I’m not asking you to want to live for me. It was probably kind of stupid of me to bring your family into this, because I’m not here to guilt you into continuing with an existence you can’t bear.”

At this point, Blaine breaks eye contact with Kurt, ducking his face to the floor and folding his arms across his chest. It’s nearly the end of the game.

“But if you feel like you’re too exhausted to keep going? Like you’re drowning?” Kurt gently places his hands on Blaine’s forearms. “I don’t know if I can make it go away, but I do know that I can stand with you until it does.”

Blaine starts to shake very slightly and Kurt feels a tear fall on his hand. There’s a sniff and a gasp for air, and then Blaine is shaking even more.

“What if it never stops?” Blaine chokes.

“It will. And I’ll still be here.”

“I’m scared.”

And Kurt knows what he’s scared of, because he went through it when he first met Blaine. Scared to face the storm, scared because it might get worse, scared to put his faith in someone else.

“Don’t be. Someone gave me a lot of courage a while back, so I’ve got plenty to share.”

Then, without warning, Blaine collapses against Kurt’s chest, outright sobbing into his shirt. Kurt grabs him, holding him up and against him as Blaine’s entire body thrashes with anguish against him. Kurt lowers them both slowly to the ground as Blaine wails, clinging to him as if his life depends on it. Kurt crosses his legs and draws Blaine onto his lap, rocking them both gently as Blaine’s broken cries fill the starry canopy above them.

“Please don’t go.” Blaine weeps, fisting Kurt’s shirt tightly. “I have no idea what I’m doing.”

“It’s okay.” Kurt soothes. “I’m here. We’ll get through it together, yeah?”

Blaine wails brokenly in response. Kurt squeezes him gently before laying them down together gently, rocking Blaine until his cries cease and his shaking body stills.

*

From that day on, things start to change, but there’s no sudden outpouring of feelings, or medication or therapy.

It begins with Blaine answering Kurt honestly when he asks if he’s okay, but never wishing to go into detail.

A few weeks later he starts seeing the school counsellor once a week for an hour. Kurt doesn’t ask what they talk about, but he always brings Blaine coffee and chocolate chip banana bread after the session.

After that, Blaine starts telling Kurt when things irritate him, or when he fights with his parents, or when he’s just feeling crappy. Kurt listens and sympathises, advising Blaine where he can and offering warm hugs.

Then one day, Blaine approaches Kurt at his locker with an unreadable expression on his face and tight fingers around his bag strap.

“I went to see someone yesterday.” He blurts out. “A doctor.”

Kurt furrows his brow in confusion.

“Miss Pillsbury is nice and all,” Blaine continues, “But she’s a bit jittery, and she kept patting me sympathetically in the hallway.”

“Ah, I see.” Kurt says with a nod. “How was it?”

“Terrifying.” Blaine admits. “But good. I think. I’ve got some exercises.”

“That’s great.” Kurt smiles, because he doesn’t really know what else to say. He just wants to be encouraging.

“Yeah. He offered me medication too.” Blaine frowns.

“And?”

“I turned him down.” Blaine says. “I mean, I know it works for some people, but I figured that if I was going to ... beat this, then I wanted it all to be me. I don’t want to rely on pills.”

“That’s a good way to look at it.” Kurt says, shutting his locker. “And I know you can do it without medication.”

Blaine doesn’t say anything, but his smile lasts all the way through their walk to the cafeteria.

*

Unfortunately, the road to recovery never does run smooth.

Blaine’s great for about a month, until one day he isn’t. They’re in glee club, and Rachel is preaching to Mr Schue about how appalling it is that McKinley has never ever tried to stage a Barbra Streisand musical. Blaine is sitting next to Kurt, hands gripping his knees and eyes screwed shut as he hums to himself over and over again.

“You okay?” Kurt whispers, leaning into him a little.

Blaine doesn’t reply, choosing to keep humming instead. It’s a repetitive bass line, accompanied by a rhythmic tapping of the feet, and it’s growing louder by the second.

“Blaine?”

“When the night has come, and the land is dark.” Blaine mutters under his breath. “And the moon is the only light we’ll see.”

“Blaine? Can you hear me?”

“No I won’t be afraid, oh I won’t be afraid.” Blaine continues, rocking slightly now. “Just as long as you stand, stand by me.”

Blaine starts to shake his head and scrunch up his face. Kurt places his hand gently on top of Blaine’s, waiting for a response which doesn’t come.

“Can you talk to me?”

“I won’t cry, I won’t cry no, I won’t shed a tear.”

Then Blaine starts to breathe erratically, and his rocking becomes more insistent as he completely disregards Kurt’s presence.

“Blaine?”

It’s Mike talking this time, leaning down from where he’s seated behind them, his face etched with concern.

“Is he okay?”

“This normally works. I don’t understand. Why isn’t it working?” Blaine hisses, not stopping his rhythmic motions.

“Maybe you should-” Mike starts, but Kurt’s already with him.

“Yeah. I’ll take him out. Can you tell Mr Schue? Be discreet.” Kurt says, getting to his feet.

“Of course.” Mike says, slipping out of his chair and going over to the teacher.

“Blaine, come on. We’re going to go somewhere quiet, okay?” Kurt says gently, tugging on Blaine’s arms.

Blaine obliges, allowing Kurt to pull him to his feet, but not opening his eyes or stopping his humming. Kurt leads them out of the room and down the corridor to an empty classroom. He seats Blaine in a free chair.

And then Blaine explodes.

He lets out a frustrated scream, kicking over the chair he was previously sitting on. He spins in a circle, fisting his hands in his hair before crashing to the floor and crawling under a table.

“Blaine? What’s wrong?” Kurt asks, beginning to panic.

He crouches down in front of Blaine’s crumpled form under the table. Blaine has curled himself into a ball and is trembling, possibly crying as he begins to take short, shaky breaths.

“That’s s-supposed to h-help.” Blaine gasps. “T-the exerc-cise. It h-helped b-before.”

“Blaine I need you to try and breathe, okay?” Kurt says, scooting closer. “Deep breaths, yeah?”

But Blaine doesn’t listen. He whines and curls in tighter on himself.

“It’s n-not s-stopping.” He whimpers. “Oh g-god...”

Kurt has his theories about what ‘it’ might be, but that’s secondary to the possibility of Blaine passing out under a table. He sits down on the floor, placing his feet wide and either side of Blaine before leaning forward and grabbing him just below the shoulders. With a great tug, he hauls Blaine towards him and settles him down between his legs, pulling him upright until his back is flush against Kurt’s chest.

“You need to relax for me.” Kurt says firmly, but with a soft edge. “I need you to uncurl yourself, Blaine. Can you do that for me?”

When Blaine doesn’t respond, Kurt shifts back a little, pulling Blaine even closer to him. He moves his hands to where Blaine’s are, still tangled in his messy hair, and tugs gently at his fingers. He intertwines them and manages to prise them away, guiding their hands down together and resting them on Blaine’s stomach.

“Lean against me, Blaine.” Kurt instructs. “Put your head on my shoulder.”

Blaine’s entire body is convulsing with his panic attack at this point, but he manages to drop his head back to rest on Kurt’s shoulder, face directed up at the ceiling.

“That’s great.” Kurt soothes. “You’re doing so good. Now, I want you to pay attention to how I’m breathing, okay?” He says. “I want you to focus on the rise and fall of my chest against your back, and take deep breaths.”

At this, Kurt starts to take long, exaggerated breaths, in through his nose and out through his mouth. Blaine doesn’t seem to be following suit.

“Come on, breathe with me. In through your nose and out through your mouth.”

Blaine takes a huge gulp of air, but chokes on it and falls back into his erratic pattern.

“I know you can do this. In two three four, out two three four. Come on.”

It takes a few more counts, but eventually Blaine latches on and starts to breathe in time with Kurt. They stay like that for a while, Kurt wrapped around Blaine’s exhausted frame and breathing in and out.

“Do you want to talk about it?” Kurt ventures quietly.

“It was an exercise.” Blaine murmurs. “I’m supposed to pick a song, or limerick, or rhyme or something, and focus on it when things get bad. It’s supposed to distract me, or soften it, I don’t know. It normally works, but I think it was just too much today.”

“What happened to set it off?” Kurt asks.

“Nothing.” Blaine says sadly. “It just arrived out of the blue, like it always does.”

*

Eventually Blaine’s good days stretch out into a week, and then two, and then three. Of course there are pockets of sadness and doubt, but Kurt knows Blaine’s confident enough in his own strength to recognise the signs and deal with the problem the moment it arises. Kurt’s done his research and knows that there’s a chance Blaine could be living with this for a very long time, but Blaine has assured him that’s all it is.

“I can live with it now.” He says warmly. “It’s not like I want to, but if I have to, then I can. Does that make sense?”

“Sort of?” Kurt says uncertainly. Blaine just chuckles.

“I’ll be okay. The bad days are easier to handle now.”

*

Things start to change again. In a good way, Kurt hopes.

Their glee assignment for the week is called ‘Of the Moment’, requiring each member of the club to perform a song which they can’t stop listening to. Kurt things it’s a pretty stupid assignment, with little relevance to anything, but that seems to be Mr Schue’s main objective when planning his lessons.

Kurt has been on the biggest Ellie Goulding kick for the last month, so he picks ‘The Writer’ for his song. He performs with a smile and panache to rapturous applause. He sashays back to his seat next to Blaine and sits down, swinging one leg across the other and humming happily to himself. Then he turns to Blaine, who has the most bizarre expression on his face.

“What?” He asks. “What’s got you looking so doe-eyed?”

“N-nothing.” Blaine says, shaking his head a little. “That was really good.”

“Why thank you.” Kurt beams, feeling a little smug. “You weren’t half bad yourself.”

*

“Thank you all for coming.” Blaine says to the throng of people sitting in front of him. “I know we didn’t have anything scheduled, but I wanted to give you guys something.”

“Is this going to take long?” Santana quips from her seat. “It’s just, I’ve got some paint to watch dry at home and-”

“Santana!” Kurt snaps. “Shut up and let him talk.”

“Thank you.” Blaine says shyly. “Um, it won’t take long, no. I just... I just wanted to thank you all.” He gestures to the mix of McKinley students and Warblers. “For all the help you’ve given me over the year.”

Kurt hears Rachel’s coo from next to him and rolls his eyes.

“I couldn’t have done it without you.” Blaine says, focusing his attention on Kurt at this. “Any of you.” He directs towards the rest of the group. “So this is for you.”

Blaine nods to the band and a lone ukulele begins to strum happily, and joined by percussion and then Blaine.

“I’m standing tall in the rain and the snow. Got a little bit of love, oh to keep me, to keep me dry.”

Kurt beams, sitting up in his chair. He hears Rachel begin to harmonise with Blaine’s words, and around him the Warblers begin to hum and scat.

“So bring on the storm, let the winter winds blow. My little bit of love, oh will keep me alive.”

Blaine returns the broad grin and moves towards the front of the stage, as the lights behind him grow brighter and warmer.

“When I fall down to my knees, when I fall down to the floor, when I fall down to my knees, you'll catch me.”

The group leap up from their seats and start to climb on the stage, surrounding Blaine, but he only has eyes for Kurt. He crouches down and holds out his hand, gesturing for Kurt to take it. And he does, unable to stop his smile now as Blaine helps him onto the stage. The rest of the group are crowding them, but when Blaine holds Kurt’s hands in his, they seem to melt away.

“Where is my faith? Well I need nothing more than a little bit of love, oh to give me a reason why. So bring on the storm, let the winter winds blow. My little bit of love, oh will keep me alive.”

Blaine has that silly doe-eyed, soppy look on his face and Kurt finds himself throwing his head back and laughing as Blaine pulls them against each other and begins to dance.

“When I fall down to my knees, when I fall down to the floor, when I fall down to my knees, you'll catch me.”

Blaine spins Kurt around before tugging them back together and rocking on the spot. Kurt’s eyes find Blaine’s and he feels something jolt in his chest. Kurt relishes in Blaine’s dopey grin as he feels warmth spread out from his heart and through his limbs. His skin crackles where Blaine touches it. He realises something’s changing, and judging from the way Blaine is letting the rest of the group finish the song, he feels it too.

*

“I like that you kept the lights up.” Blaine comments, gesturing lazily at the starry canopy of the willow tree above where they lie, side by side. “I think I like them better than the real stars.”

“Well they took me so damn long to put up that it would be waste to take them down. Like, ever.”

“Very true.” Blaine laughs.

They stay in companionable silence for a while, just gazing at the lights and enjoying each other’s company. Kurt thinks he could stay here forever.

“I actually came over so I could talk to you.” Blaine says, words a little stilted.

“What about?” Kurt asks. “Are you okay?”

“What? Oh yeah, I’m fine.” Blaine says dismissively. “Seriously.” He adds when Kurt gives him that look. “I actually just wanted to tell you something.”

“The floor is yours, Mr. Anderson.”

“There are some... things that I’ve been wanting to say to you for a while now, but didn’t, for a whole load of reasons.” Blaine says, rolling onto his side. “I didn’t want you to think I was saying them for the wrong reasons, or because I felt I had to or because-”

“Blaine. Calm down.” Kurt says, reaching out and taking Blaine’s hand. “You know you can tell me anything.”

“Okay.” Blaine nods and then takes a deep breath, closing his eyes briefly. “Kurt, there is a moment when you say to yourself ‘Oh! There you are! I’ve been looking for you forever’...”

*

It was always Kurt and Blaine. Always. Neither went anywhere without the other, and if you were to see them alone it would always look odd. It was like they were a part of each other that seemed completely natural. They were in love; absolute best friends, and had been since Kurt stopped Blaine on the staircase at Dalton Academy. You could call it fate, I guess. There were dozens of boys surrounding Kurt on that day, and he could have picked any of them, but it was Blaine that stood out, whether Kurt knew it at the time or not.

Things were hard for Kurt when they met. They were miserable, monochrome and bleak, but Blaine taught him how to colour his life whatever shade he wanted. And when things were horribly and infinitely grey for Blaine, Kurt handed over the brush and reminded him how to use it. Together, they were unstoppable.

They were Kurt and Blaine forever. Strong, bold and colourful.