Kurt thinks about putting his engagement ring back on. Its late the Thursday night after The Farewell to Rachels Childhood Home party. He sits on the edge of his rumpled bed. His room is dark but for the flat oval of yellow light from his bedside lamp. It shines like a spotlight on his open palm, upturned, holding the shining platinum band Blaine chose for him. Over a year it made its home on his finger. Most days it still feels like its missing.

Tonight Blaine kissed him, and Kurt suspects that should have resulted in a less complicated emotion than whatever hes trying to untangle in his heart. He doesnt understand why, and he also doesnt understand why, once done, Blaine looked so hurt and scared and walked away.

Or maybe he does understand, but its too frightening to admit to it. Too distressing to try to elucidate reasons within his own mind. Things he doesnt want to acknowledge, because he cant let himself hope. Even though tonight Blaine kissed him. Flirted too—and, well, Kurt started that, he thinks. It wasnt the best decision of his week.

And despite his Dads being in DC this weekend, and Kurts having spent two years living away from home, he still instinctively listens for his fathers nighttime tread in the hall and the creak of the stairs. Midnight snack time. Sometimes Kurt would get up and join him, and theyd talk over toast and warm milk or tea.

But no. Even if his Dad were home, its been awkward between them since he started dating Walter, and he suspects hed have to try to explain all of that to his Dad in the process of trying to talk through whatever the hell is going on with Blaine. He doesnt want to talk to his Dad about Walter. His Dad would—at the very best—force a smile and say supportive sounding things, but he wont mean them in the way Kurt needs him to. Its become too much like when he was young and his Dad didnt get it, when they lived in parallel and Kurt had support without understanding. He doesnt like the sense of backsliding so far with his Dad, with his Dad being so careful not to intrude too much or ask too many questions or judge things that maybe, might actually benefit from some judgement. Maybe it would help if his Dad challenged him to explain it all, but so far, his Dads left him to figure it all out on his own. Yay for adulthood.

The funny thing is Walter is someone he probably could talk to. Walter is sharp and smart and gets life. Kurt could talk to him if he werent also dating him, because that just makes it complicated and weird. His love life is officially complicated. He should update his Facebook status.

He stares at the ring, the promise of eternity held in its bright circle. Maybe tonight it was just the rush of the music, singing together, reminiscing together. He felt it too. If he asks Blaine why he kissed him, he risks humiliating him. Kurts certain Blaine wasnt thinking of Karofsky in the moment he did it. The memory of that winter night at Dalton is reason enough. It doesnt mean anything if it was a kiss motivated by nothing more than affectionate nostalgia. But Kurt lets himself consider the possibility that it may mean Blaine has forgiven him. But the comfort and hope of that blessing seems too fragile to hold without crumpling it, so he lets it go with resignation.

Maybe Blaine truly never will, and this is the official end of their attempted friendship. Kurt screwed up, pushed too hard with the duet, and Blaine—in the process of remembering the happiness they had together, remembered all the pain too, every precious thing Kurt stole from him, and it was too much. It was one last kiss before he went back to Karofsky. For good. Forever. Whatever.

How did Kurts life turn back into a horror story? His prince charming ends up with the monster? How can this be the way the story ends?

He has a choice to make, and god knows hes been making it over and over again, each time thinking this time he has the resolve to stick to it. But he keeps circling back around to wanting Blaine, no matter how many times he decides to put his chin up, set his jaw, and keep moving forward for himself without carrying any hope, without looking back. Maybe he doesnt have enough momentum yet. Hell get used to it with time. Fake it til you make it, right? He forces himself to choose forward again.

Kurt puts the ring away, tucks it in its velvet box in the back of his drawer, and sends Walter a text. "Are you free tomorrow for dinner?" and then he sends a text to Rachel "Are you & Sam up for a double date tomorrow?"

Then he gets ready for bed.

.

Morning comes too early. He didnt drink enough last night to be hungover; the sickness is in his heart only. So many things to regret the morning after. Carole shuffles into the kitchen with a sleepy good morning, gets herself some coffee and the pack of muffins from the breadbox. She comes to the table and frowns at his glum demeanor. They sit together, sip their coffee, and he tells her what he can about the situation with Blaine. Thankfully, Carole doesnt ask about Walter, and thats a relief. She has a knack for navigating around the things he doesnt want to talk about. And she leaves him with plenty to think about.

Later that evening, in his car with Walter, Walter says, "Youve been quiet tonight."

Kurt checks his blind spot before changing lanes to turn into Walters subdivision. "Well, sometimes its hard to get a word in between you and Rachel," he says.

He thinks Walter smiles. "Do you want to come in for coffee and tell me the real reason?" Theres enough warmth in the question that Kurt could, if he wanted to, read it as a proposition. But its outweighed by a sincere concern to let Kurt know that this is only an invitation to have coffee and talk, with zero other intention. Its very generous, and his gratitude for Walters friendship is enough that he cannot, for a moment, respond. He turns into Walters driveway and considers accepting.

But talking would mean saying things like, "The bowtie you complimented was the one Blaine wore when he proposed to me." And, "I think Blaine wanted to talk to me tonight." And saying those things would mean having to feel them and having to think about them, which is exhausting, and—yeah—that would be weird and possibly inappropriate. No doubt Walter would listen, would offer sympathy and wisdom, and Kurt knows thats not the relationship Walter hopes for with him. Kurt no longer knows what he wants with Walter. A friend to talk to would be nice, but this is indeed officially too complicated.

Solitude and quiet may help clear his head better than talking about it anyway. "Thank you," Kurt says, and he means it. "I had a nice time, but I need to get home."

"All right," Walter says and undoes his seatbelt. He doesnt ask why, which is good. "Until next time, good night, Kurt."

"Good night," Kurt says, smiles, and he watches Walter walk to his front door.

And then theres what Carole told him this morning, thats been on his mind since he walked out of the school earlier this evening: sometimes people walk away because they need to know whether youll follow.

He doesnt want to follow Walter up the path to his house. But he also knows that the other night he did want to follow Blaine, but he didnt feel it was his place to. Tonight, Blaine didnt follow him from the choir room, though Kurt—for a moment—expected him too. Wanted him to. Understands why Blaine didnt, but now he wonders if Blaine wanted to and didnt feel it was his place.

Kurt puts his car into reverse.

.

So, later that night, at the mercy of insomnia and too much unresolved rumination, Kurt decides to follow as best he can. He sends Blaine a text: "You were looking for me, werent you?"

It takes a long time for Blaine to respond. Kurt drifts into sleep, until his phone wakes him. "Forever," is Blaines reply.

One word and it makes Kurts chest flood with warmth and his heart ache so fiercely, he wonders if its possible to break it all over again with foolish hope. He cant keep himself from squeaking happily in the dark of his room, muffled into his pillow like hes still a teenager. He starts to type: "Im here if you want to talk now," and then he remembers Blaine was up at five AM this morning for Karofskys intramural football game, and maybe Blaines response is in the spirit of continued playful nostalgia—a way to deflect the potential seriousness of the question, not an overture of anything after all. Humor to ease the awkwardness of last nights kiss and todays scene in the choir room. They can joke about their past now, right? Because theyre friends. Playful is better than distant, but Kurt doesnt know what it means, and if he asks and the answer is— Whatever it is.

At least theyre still friends. The kiss wasnt a goodbye forever.

Regardless, this isnt a conversation he wants to try having via text messages. Whatever Blaine came to the choir room about that he couldnt say in front of everyone is likely something better said at a less vulnerable hour for them both. And if Blaine is in bed, then hes not in bed alone, and— Kurt chokes on the thought.

Kurt erases his first response, sends a neutral smiley face and a simple message of grateful acknowledgement instead: "Im glad were still friends." No further reply comes from Blaine that night. In the morning Kurt decides to follow up with something lighter, "Do you want to get a coffee after school sometime this coming week?"

Blaines answer comes after noon. "My schedules looking pretty busy. Ill let you know."

And Kurt cant tell if Blaines putting him off or whether his overture has been cautiously accepted. Maybe Blaine needs time to think. And then he doesnt hear from Blaine for several days and Brittany and Artie rope him and Tina into wedding planning and set-up and— Its too many ands, and his own schedule for the week goes to Hell.

Until, while hes helping Tina move a bale of hay, she casually (in truth its more casual than casual) informs him Blaine is going to the wedding alone.

He drops his end of the bale on his foot and straightens. Wipes his hands off on his thighs. "What about Karofsky?" Kurt asks.

Tina sets her end down more slowly. "They broke up."

"They—? Oh..." Kurt has to sit down then. The hay bale prickles his thighs through his jeans. But he sits there without fidgeting and stares at nothing, tries to put the pieces together. Blaine not bringing Karofsky to Brittany and Santanas engagement party at the Schuesters. Blaine not wanting to bring Karofsky to Rachels party, not wanting him to know hed be singing with Kurt. Flirting and kissing— Except there was still the game the next morning, and its only been a few days since that. He doesnt think Blaine would have lied about it to him.

Something like hope swells in his chest, even though— He wonders who ended it, if Blaines hurting very much. He wonders why. He wonders if— He looks back at Tina, sees her smiling cautiously, evaluating him with unreadable eyes. Concerned for Blaine, he knows. She doesnt entirely trust him with Blaines heart any longer. He cant blame her for that, but hes grateful for the information. "When?" he asks.

"The day after Rachels party," she says. She looks pleased by this, which doesnt mean shes telling Kurt with an agenda of getting him and Blaine back together, only that shes had her own reservations about Blaine being with Karofsky. (Havent they all?)

But as his brain finishes assembling the timeline, Kurt remembers Blaines face in the choir room, the breathless shape of his mouth, his bright eyes—he feels a little sick with the elation and the realization. Blaine and Karofsky broke up sometime shortly before or after Blaine decided to wear that bow tie with a yellow cardigan and come to Kurt. Blaine sang with him and flirted with him and kissed him and then, the very next day— "Oh my god."

"You should call him," Tina tells him, a little smugly, and he wonders what she knows or thinks she knows, or what shes assuming.

"Oh, I—" His throat clamps closed. He cant let his heart do what its trying to do. Not without knowing for sure—and that means hearing it directly from Blaine. "Yes," he manages. He stands numbly and pulls his phone from his back pocket. He doesnt trust himself to talk, so he types a text. "I hear youre lacking a plus one for the wedding. Would you like to go together?" And then, because he truly doesnt want to push or get ahead of himself or Blaine, he adds, "Just as friends." As if going to a wedding together could be just anything. And then he deletes all of it without sending. He doesnt know the right words for making this overture. Not knowing how to approach Blaine any longer has been among the most uncomfortable parts of trying to rebuild their relationship in any form.

Kurt stands and excuses himself, walks out of the barn and into the tawny afternoon sunlight. The dry grass is golden and thick like an animal pelt. He walks away from the barn and away from the vehicles parked nearby, away from the driveway and the stacks of chairs and tables. He walks until the sounds of voices behind him are indistinct and muffled by the breeze in his ears. He tips his head back and looks up at the cloudless blue sky. He sits down in the grass and holds his phone in his lap. The ground is lumpy and unforgiving beneath him, the grass dry and coarse—not soft like fur after all.

Slowly he types a new message to Blaine, truthful and plain. "I miss talking to you, can we talk soon?"

Blaines reply comes within ten minutes. "Yeah. Id like that. If I call tonight, will you be home?"

"Ill be home. Tonight is perfect," Kurt sends back, lets himself smile.

He gets to his feet and slips his phone back into his pocket, takes a breath and heads back to the barn. He doesnt yet know much of what he wants to say to Blaine tonight or what might be possible to say, but he suspects Blaine already has some things he wants to say to Kurt. For good or ill, Kurt wants to hear them all, wants to know if theres still a possibility of healing. Without expectation, he wonders if the path forward may not be so hopeless after all.