After the winter showcase performances, the audience, faculty and students, and the performers file from the round room to a reception hall up the stairs. Mingling ensues. Kurt mostly loses track of Rachel, catches a glimpse here and there of her radiant face. Mostly ends up jostled about in the crowd of human turbulence. Recognizing some faces, forgetting names. Trying, still, not to cry.

Kurts heart is too big in his chest, like someones pumped it with helium and its about to burst free of his body and go sailing off into the sky. But its staying put for now, though it still feels misplaced in his body, as if its somehow lodged itself high in his esophagus during its escape attempt. It pumps and flutters too rapidly, stuck fast and uncomfortably near the base of his throat. No matter how he tries, he cant swallow it down. Its hard to breathe around it.

Brody appears at his elbow and hands him a glass of champagne with a wink and a friendly clap on the shoulder. Kurt makes some vocal approximation of, "Thank you." Alcohol may not be the wisest choice, but maybe itll calm him down. He takes a sip. Its weirdly yeasty and more bitter than sparkling cider, but he doesnt make a face. He blinks through his blurry vision and smiles as he spies Mme. Tibideaux approaching him.

She speaks to him, warm and formal, and he curtsies reflexively--awkwardly--makes sure he thanks her (too effusively, he knows, but he cant dam the words of gratitude), and he laughs at himself and his peculiar excesses while she smiles her indulgent knowing smile at him. With grace and deliberation, she leads him around the room and introduces him to people whose names he does his best to remember. He blinks rapidly to clear the moisture from his eyes. Hes not at risk of crying any longer, its just--his eyes wont stop leaking. His heart jitters, and, as he moves, his limbs feel stiff and ill-arranged, like hes only just been born, some awkward precocious mammal learning his own legs for the first time. But hes on best behavior, remembers his pleases and thank yous and its-a-pleasure-to-meet-yous. Its all bit of a blur, but its a happy one.

Happy. Just last week Blaine told him he sounded happy, and he wasnt sure he was, or if he could be. Or if he even understood what happy meant. But today, tonight, right now, the clouds have parted. Hes alive and hopeful. That feels like happiness must.

But the noise and people and the champagne combine to make his head uncomfortably muzzy. Once Mme. Tibideaux leaves him, he excuses himself from a conversation with Brody and one of Mme. Tibideauxs TAs, and steps out onto an abandoned balcony.

It overlooks a dormant winter garden. Tidy beds of mulch wait for springs pansies and petunias. Its quiet--relatively. He can still hear the urban white noise of traffic: engines and horns and tires on asphalt. He finds a low wooden bench and sits. Beneath his backside its cold. He curls his fingers around the edge of the seat either side of his legs. The bleed of the cold through his clothes is welcome. Forces his attention more into his body, makes him feel more aware and integrated. His heart reseats itself as he breathes, deep and easy.

Until he starts laughing, softly, impulsively, just because. Even if he doesnt get in... this is. Tonight happened. The urge to cry again swells within him, joyful, but too much. He gasps for steady breaths and swallows his giddy laughter. Calms.

And abruptly feels alone. Not lonely. He doesnt want to go back inside yet, but the pull deep in his gut, he knows it. He wants to tell Blaine about whats happened: how he sang for this august crowd, how they applauded him. How he was terrified of falling and managed to fly. How sudden and strange the night has been. Its too soon to feel vindicated or celebratory. Its too unreal and unresolved. Telling Blaine may soothe that odd sense of disconnection, and Blaine will share his elation. Blaine will be proud and happy. He might even cry too; Kurt aches to talk to him.

But he hesitates and queries the wisdom of the impulse. Maybe his Dad should be his first call tonight. Except hed rather not wake his Dad and get his hopes up. Would rather know something for sure. Hell tell his Dad in an email without making it out to be a big deal. Just let him know he got to audition again. Theres no big news to report until he finds out if hes been successful.

Still, he feels successful now. A standing ovation, before this audience? Hes going to wake up any moment now. He pinches himself, his thigh along the seam of his pants. Feels it in his body, but not in his mind, which remains incredulous and bubbling with little bursts of too many competing feelings.

Reaches into his trouser pocket for his pocket watch, doesnt look at the time though. Holds it upside down and runs his thumb over the butterflies engraved on the back. Even before they were boyfriends or lovers, Blaine would have been his first call after something like this.

So Kurt dries his eyes and sniffs back the threat of tears, swaps the watch for his phone and scrolls to his recent calls, taps Blaines name.

Ring... Ring... Ring... Ring...

"Hello, this is Blaines phone," someone not Blaine answers. Its a masculine voice.

"Um," Kurt says slowly, because his lips have gone clumsy with shock. Who would have Blaines phone at this hour? Its definitely not Blaines fathers voice. Nor Coopers. Cautiously, Kurt asks, "Hello?"

"Hey, Kurt, its Sam."

"Oh," Kurt says, and his brain connects the voice to the person. He lets out a long breath, his anxiety sinks back down, and his chest warms with relief and recognition. "Hi, Sam. Is Blaine there?"

"No, sorry. He left his phone in my room charging, Ill get it back to him in the morning."

"Okay," Kurt says. Didnt know Blaine and Sam were hanging out that much.

"I can take a message for him if you want?"

Kurt remembers some of the things Tinas told him in recent weeks. "A vice presidential duty?"

"Nah, I saw your name, and knew he wouldnt want your call going to voice mail."

"Oh," Kurt says, pleased. "Thank you."

"So can I take a message?" Sam asks.

"Um, not really? Its something I want to tell him myself."

Sams response is an incomprehensible muffled sound. It mayve been a word or words. He mayve lost his grip on the phone.

"Hm?" Kurt says. "Whats that?"

A rustle on the line, and then Sam asks more clearly, "I was wondering if its a good thing or a bad thing you want to tell him?"

Taken aback, Kurt blinks. "This isnt twenty questions."

"No, I know. But maybe you dont know?"

Thats cryptic; Kurt frowns. "Dont know what?"

"Blaines had a really rough month or so, and hes only just starting to smile again, so if its bad news? Can you be gentle with him? Im just trying to look out for him, all right?"

"Right," Kurt says slowly. He begins to wonder, but stops himself. Just clarifies, "Its not bad news." Then he adds, with a quick grin stealing control of his lips, irrepressible, "Quite the opposite." And the next words well up, buoyed by that joy: he wants to tell someone who knows him and wholl care. "I got a second audition for NYADA tonight, and it went really, really well."

"Oh! Thats awesome, Kurt. Congratulations, dude!"

"Dont get too excited, Im not in yet," Kurt says, "So Im not celebrating yet, but-- Its definitely good news."

"Yeah, well, good luck and stuff."

"Ill need it," Kurt says, huffs a laugh. "And, hey, Sam? Blaine was the first person I wanted to tell, so please dont tell him before I can?"

"My lips are sealed," Sam says.

"I appreciate it."

"So Im really the first person youve told?" Sam says.

"Aside from Rachel," Kurt says, "Yeah, I guess you are."

"Cool," Sam says.

Awkward silence follows. Kurt can count on less than one finger the number of times hes held a conversation with Sam on the phone for more than a few practical minutes. "I guess I should go then, let you go back to sleep. Sorry for how late this is."

"Its cool," Sam says. "I was reading."

Kurt nods. "Then Ill let you get back to that."

"Okay," Sam says, and Kurt hears him take a breath like hes got something else to say. So Kurt waits a beat. "And Kurt?" Sam asks.

"Yeah?"

"Um. Blaine told me what he did."

"Oh. Uh... I dont want to talk about--"

"No, no, thats not my place. But I just wanted to say that I know what he did was really bad, and I know--I get that its... Um. Im not judging anyone or, like, taking sides. I know he hurt you, but I hope you know that hes not a bad person, right? Hes a good person who did a bad thing. Hes not a villain. Hes one of the good guys, one of the best I know."

Tightness seizes in Kurts throat, seems to stop the beat of his heart. The burning prickle of tears returns. Kurt swallows. "Yeah," Kurt says, feels his smile wobble with some strange melange of sadness and gratitude. Its not new information to his heart. Its nice that Sam cares. Softly he affirms, "I know that."

"Cool, okay then, Ill see you later, Kurt. Take care."

"You too," Kurt says. He ends the call and slips his phone back into his breast pocket.

He sits still in the cold nighttime, breathing and waiting for the crying urge to pass. Holds the tension in his chest as if he can crush it down to nothing. But then he wonders, why? Why hold it in? So he cries, not hard or noisily, but without trying to stop it. He puts his pocket square to use catching his tears. Its some strange soul deep relief, and its not just the one thing. Its so much, like the world just changed its tilt. Hes not sure whats next, but hes not--for the first time in a long time--wretchedly miserable underneath it all. Happiness lingers with hope. He blinks back the tears, wipes his eyes, stands, Clears his throat and straightens his shoulders. One clear breath clears his mind.

Theres still a tightness in his chest. Its familiar. Fear, a little bit (or a lot), but thats not a new thing. Sadness still of course--grief is process--but hes learning that maybe this is an inescapable feature of life. To have had something good in life, means accepting the pain of it passing. It may not be a good deal or a fair deal, but it is the only deal. So, its time to step forward to find the next good thing.

Maybe hell get into NYADA, maybe he wont. Maybe hell be able to forgive Blaine one day--

Either way, hes got this.