And then suddenly, everything made sense.

Everything in Blaine's entire life, in his entire world, in his entire existence, it suddenly hit him with the force of a train, or five hundred trains, and left him reeling, and he had to look away. Look away and let the world right itself, because it had suddenly shifted around him. He was still him, and Kurt was still so very very Kurt that it was almost pretty much close to being absolutely painful, but the entire world had uplifted itself and moved three paces to the left and then dropped back down like an atomic bomb. And so he was seeing everything at a different angle, from this new light that the world had presented him by shuffling around a bit until it was finally in the right position.

So there was him. Just him, sitting somewhere, with all the breath knocked out and away, somewhere far away where he hoped that he might find it again, even though he was pretty sure that he wouldn't be needing it now or forever. And then there was Kurt. And he just had to look back up, just to make sure. But no, the world was right now, so he could see. And for the first time, he actually saw Kurt. Standing there in clothes that for some reason looked different from everyone else's, and tears rolling down his face, and singing. But he wasn't just singing, because Blaine had done that a thousand times, and this was different. Because Blaine could see it. He could see Kurt's heart, and his soul, and everything, and if he just reached forward a little, he could touch it.

Touch it and hold it and take it into his arms, and if he was really really lucky, maybe, just maybe, have a little tiny part of that soul become his. And then, at that moment, Blaine was absolutely sure that there was nothing else in the entire world that he wanted, or ever would want. Because it was right there, right in front of him, and it was absolutely fucking beautiful, and he just wanted all of it.

But he was also absolutely sure that there was nothing that terrified him more. Because that moment, of the world wrenching itself up and then slamming back down, had torn him. And Kurt, Kurt, had torn him. Had dug his fingers right into Blaine's chest and viciously clawed it apart, exposing his heart and soul and everything. Because those walls that he had built and built and that mask that he had crafted and painted had been wrenched away, leaving only the shriveled remains of Blaine. And so every last thought and feeling and emotion dripped out of his bleeding, torn chest, and rolled away from him in waves, washing over everyone but ultimately coming back to Blaine and stinging his already aching gash even further.

But the song. Kurt's song, and Kurt's voice, and Kurt's everything, were still digging their way into Blaine. All those words full of loss and remorse and tears and hope were shoving their way into Blaine's torn-up heart, and forcing him to feel. And that was what scared him the most. Because those walls that were now gone had been to keep him from feeling, to keep everyone else out and himself in. But Kurt had clawed and bitten just as hard as Blaine had kicked and screamed, and he had eventually broken into Blaine's heart and settled himself there. Only now he had broken out, shattered Blaine from the inside out, leaving the pieces jagged and sharp and dangling in midair.

Except now, he was sure that Kurt would be there. He was totally, completely, absolutely and one hundred percent sure that Kurt would be there right next to him, picking up the pieces and putting them back together so that they actually fit this time. Leaving the walls behind and tripping and stumbling all the way, but still getting somewhere. Getting a hell of a lot further than Blaine ever would have on his own. Which he was so, so, incredibly, eternally grateful for.

And maybe, just maybe, while they were putting the pieces back together, Kurt would give him a little bit of his heart and soul and everything. Just the thought of that made Blaine was to jump up and start cheering and crying and collapse on the floor and bury his head in his hands and hide.

But then the song was fading out into one last cool, clear note that would be plastered to the insides of his head for the rest of his life and probably longer than that. And Kurt choked out two depressing, soul-crushing words that twisted up Blaine's shriveled, bleeding heart and pretty much made him want to tuck Kurt into his arms and hold him there forever, even if he himself was shriveling up and crumbling away.

So despite how torn he was, despite how shredded his heart was, despite how perfect Kurt's soul was, despite everything, there was absolutely nothing that Blaine wanted more than Kurt. Kurt's heart. Kurt's soul. Kurt's everything. He wanted to reach out and touch it and hold it and, most of all, become part of it. He wanted it to become a part of him.

Was that really too much to ask?