It all started a year ago. Blaine had met him for the first time when walking in the long, marble hallways of Dalton Academy. It was weird, seeing him. He was so perfect, so pretty, yet he seemed tainted. The boy was unusual, like he’d just fell from the sky, and broken his wings. It didn’t look right.

White lips, pale face,
Breathing in snowflakes,
Burnt lungs, sour taste,

Blaine had investigated this peculiar young man. He found him attractive, to say the least, and interesting. He tried to help him, by being there for him and being his friend. Along the way, he found himself falling in love with this boy. As they grew close, the boy had told Blaine of his troubles, and why he had come to Dalton: because of a psychopathic bully at his old school, who had tried to kill him multiple times. Twice, he nearly succeeded, leaving scars on both his neck and stomach.

Light’s gone, days end,
Struggling to pay the rent,
Long nights, strange men,

Then he began to get better. Blaine helped him feel special, made him forget about all his past troubles, and eventually, they both moved to the boy’s old school, to be back with his old friends. Blaine had sworn to protect him. The boy lived happily, in what appeared to be a fantasy, joined with his best friend, Blaine, singing and dancing his days away. It appeared to be better.

And they say,
He’s in the Class A Team,
Stuck in his daydream,
Been this way since 18,

Until now. Blaine had been walking down the hallway of McKinnely, past the boys locker room, when he’d heard a soft sound from inside. It was after school hours, he’d only stayed back because he was behind with a lot of homework, and had to pick up some books from the library. Blaine walked into the room, and he was struck with what could only be described as horrible. There was the boy, on his knees, sobbing gently. His body, shaking.

But lately his face seems,
Slowly sinking, wasting,
Crumbling like pastries,
And they scream,
The worst things in life come free to us,

“Kurt, what happened to you!?” Blaine barely able to control himself as he threw himself around the other boy. He didn’t say anything, just continued to shake.
    Blaine’s arms wrapped themselves around the boy’s back, and his hands came into contact with something sticky and slightly warm, yet damp. He pulled his hands away so he could look at them over his friend’s shoulder. They were now tainted with blood.
    “Kurt… We need to get you out of here!” Blaine’s eyes were still focused on his red hands, staring in disgust.
    “I don’t wanna leave. Not like this…” were the only words to leave the light brown haired boy’s lips. Blaine ignored him, and pulled him carefully to his feet.
    “… You have to try…”

Cos we’re just under the upper hand,
Go mad for a couple grams,
And he don’t wanna go outside,
And in a pipe, he flies to the Motherland,
Or sells love to another man,
It’s too cold outside,
For Angels to fly,
Angels to fly.

Blaine had taken Kurt home. He’d been laid out on his bed, and wrapped up in many bandages from the damage that had been done to his back. It was strange, the wounds were two massive holes just next to each of his shoulder blades, and they were messy and had only just stopped bleeding when Blaine put the bandages on. He didn’t understand what could have happened to make such nasty marks. Either way, whoever did this had severely damaged his friend’s clothes, and Kurt was really picky about what he wore. The jacket probably was designer.
    Because of their awful luck and the awful weather, Blaine and Kurt had gotten soaked on the way home, meaning both boys were still cold and wet, as well as one of them being in pain.

Ripped gloves, raincoat,
Tried to swim, stay afloat,
Dry house, wet clothes,

Blaine began to examine Kurt’s clothes. There was hardly anything in the pockets; it looked like his phone had been stolen. The boy lay on the bed, looking a bit miserable and tired, and panting heavily. Blaine felt bad and put his blood-stained clothes down, and stared silently at his friend. They had been friends for a long time, yet while trying to make his life better, Blaine had fallen in love with Kurt. He had never told him so, however. He didn’t feel it appropriate. So he just gazed, caringly, at the boy who stared back, sleepily.

Loose change, bank notes,
Weary eyed, dry throat,
Call the boy, no phone,

Blaine remembered how happy he and Kurt used to be. How much joy they felt, spending time together. How much they laughed and smiled. Blaine came closer to the boy, and held his hand. Kneeling next to him, he looked forlorn.
    “I had sworn to protect you. I’m sorry, I failed…” his voice broke on the word ‘protect’, and Blaine let a tear or too fall from his deep brown eyes.
    “You’ve protected me more than enough… In turn, I’m going to protect you…” Kurt sighed and looked to the ceiling, as if he were staring up to heaven.
    “But you’re hurt… What are you looking at?” questionably, Blaine stared where the other was staring.
    “The sky…”
    “That’s the ceiling, though…” Blaine furrowed his brows in confusion, but Kurt just drearily kept staring, as if he were in some kind of trance.
    “I can see through it,” Kurt said, simply. Blaine just nodded and continued to watch the spot on the ceiling that his friend was staring at, as if he could see the stars, too.
    He was mesmerized.

And they say,
He’s in the Class A Team,
Stuck in his daydream,
Been that way since 18,

“They tore out my wings.” Kurt said. Blaine blinked, then stared at him, wide-eyed.
    “Your… Wings?” Blaine continued to gawp. Kurt took a deep and slow breath, before telling a quick story.
    “My wings… The Angel Council ripped them out…” Not considering that Kurt was an angel, Blaine replied:
    “Why?”
    “Because… In our community, it’s illegal to fall in love with a human…” Kurt smiled at him, sadly, “So they made me human, I guess…”
    “Who with?” Blaine’s instincts took over his speech.
    “Who else?” their eyes met. Although Blaine was thankful for what he’d just been blessed with, he felt guilty. The process almost cost Kurt his life. “If you hadn’t helped me, I probably wouldn’t be alive.”
    Blaine leaned against Kurt’s head, and held both his hands. He saw the sadness in Kurt’s eyes, not knowing what else to say.

But lately, his face seems,
Slowly sinking, wasting,
Crumbling like pastries,
And they scream,
The worst things in life come free to us,
Cos we’re all under the upper hand,
And go mad for a couple grams,
And he don’t wanna go outside,
And in a pipe, he flies to the Motherland,
Or sells love to another man,

“Be careful, Blaine. You don’t know what you’re getting into…”
    “What do you mean?” he held the cold, white hands tighter, but loosened his grip when he felt like they were going to smash under his touch.
    “Because angels can’t survive when they have coldness in their heart… It might be too late for me…” Snow had begun falling heavily outside. He closed his eyes; He seemed to slip away. Kurt’s hand gripped onto Blaine’s, yet no heartbeat could be felt, and no breath could be heard. Blaine didn’t feel sad. He felt empty. No matter how much he didn’t feel at that moment, he couldn’t prevent the silent tears from streaming down his face like a flood.

It’s too cold outside,
For Angel’s to fly,
An Angel will die,

It felt like a storm, all of a sudden, as they appeared to be outside. All Blaine could see was white and grey, all around them. The snow pounded the world around them, and on top of them. Kurt lay, coated in the white blanket that was slowly covering him completely, and Blaine knelt beside him, still holding one of his hands. As Blaine cried, the tears turned to ice on his face, making them painful to let fall.

Covered in white,
Closed eyes,
And hoping for a better life,
This time, we’ll fade out tonight,
Straight down the line,

And as if by magic, he was in the choir room at McKinnely High. Him and the other members of the Glee club he had joined were singing acapella to Kurt’s lead vocals. He smiled proudly as he sung impressively high pitched notes, and the rest of the club sung and clapped in time to the beat. Kurt was incredibly happy there. The song seemed to change, but he heard himself singing, despite his lips not moving at all.

And they say,
He’s in the Class A Team,
Stuck in his daydream,
Been that way since 18,

Blaine was back in his bedroom with what looked like a porcelain doll lying on his bed. He touched it, it felt cold as he’d expected.
    “Don’t do this… Not now…” Blaine cried, quietly. He let his head fall onto Kurt’s solid, yet soft chest.

But lately, his face seems,
Slowly sinking, wasting,
Crumbling like pastries,
They scream,
The worst things in life come free to us,
And we’re all under the upper hand,
And go mad for a couple grams,
And we don’t wanna go outside, tonight,
And in a pipe, fly to the Motherland,
Or sell love to another man,

Blaine kissed the frozen lips of the boy who lay on his bed. He held the kiss for what seemed like forever. He didn’t want to let go.

It’s too cold outside,
For Angels to fly,
Angels to fly,
To fly, fly,

Blaine never broke the kiss. Not even to catch his breath. He began to feel himself slip away.

At least Kurt would always be there to guide him.

For Angels to fly,
To fly, fly,

For Angels to die.