A/N: Don't own Glee, just like last time.

He'd decided to fly back that Saturday morning, not long after Finn left. Wherever or however Finn had gone, Blaine was alone as he paid the taxi and found his way to the check-in counter. He felt utterly hollow; sleep deprived (already true before the trip began, and certainly not alleviated last night), numb from pain, directionless. Rachel was only barely more functional than he'd been this morning, but she'd taken charge, helping him make arrangements, and through her own grief managed to worry about him. Blaine was unaware of that, caught in an endless loop of his own grief and self-blame, and shut off from Kurt.

Was it even worth trying to sleep last night, he wondered. What a sham that had been; lying beside the person he loved more than anything in the world, both of them crying, neither of them comforted by the presence of the other, once Kurt had made it plain that he would not talk about it. After repeated, desperate pleas Blaine had given up, sobbed until his ribs hurt. At some point very far into the night they'd both drifted into troubled sleep.

Blaine awakened alone and cold in bed. He listened, heard the sound of someone stirring, and walked into the open space of the apartment. Finn, gone early this morning, as Rachel discovered later; he hadn't stayed to say goodbye. Kurt had left when Rachel came out to look for Finn, and Rachel didn't know when he'd return. She'd had the sad job of relaying Kurt's message, that he did not want to talk to Blaine at all, he "needed some space". Stricken, he'd pleaded for details, asked what he should do, and found that he somehow had more tears to shed. Her sad nod, then embrace didn't help: Kurt apparently would not return until he was gone.

Getting off the plane, back in Ohio, he still had no clear plan. He didn't know how many texts he'd sent Kurt, how many times he'd called, hoping that this time he would pick up, before boarding the plane. Back on the ground, his phone revealed the same blank slate: no new messages from Kurt, no texts. He headed out to his car, not noticing the drizzly rain or the fact that he hadn't eaten today, and it was now early afternoon. Almost there, and his phone alerted him to a call, from Rachel.

"Hello?"

"Blaine, you're back in Ohio, I guess, well right, of course you are, you're back on the ground with cell phone reception again..."

"Did he come back?" His voice sounded croaky, nearly a whisper.

"Kurt. Yes, Blaine, he did..."

"Please, please Rachel, can I talk to him -"

"I'm so sorry, Blaine... he won't, he's not even talking to me, really. But I wanted to call you, to make sure you were safe." Her voice sounded pressured; Blaine wasn't surprised. After all, she was dealing with her own problems.

"I'm here. Tell him … can you tell him I love him?" And damn, more tears, followed by a silent sob.

"I'll tell him. Be safe, Blaine Warbler. I'm so sorry." And now her voice was broken by tears as well. "Remember, I love you. Don't forget that," she whispered, clearly starting to turn into a mess.

Blaine stared at his phone in mild surprise. Rachel had been surprisingly strong this morning, and had told him while he was still there that she wanted him to be okay, that she loved him like a sister. He felt humbled, unworthy; I am the guy that just broke Kurt's heart, why would she even care? He managed to croak out, "Thanks. Gotta go." And he ended the call.

His car felt like a bit of a refuge; his own space, where he could cry, finally, with no one there to offer reassurances he didn't believe in. After a while, he didn't know how long, he turned it on and headed back to Lima. Where to go? Not like his parents really cared, but he was a day early, and he didn't want to face them or anyone else. He tried Wes, but it went straight to voicemail, so he was probably busy. So was Nick. He thought of calling Sam, but remembered that the number he'd assigned to him was the Hudmel's landline, since Sam still couldn't afford his own cell phone. He could not risk someone else there picking up, so Sam was out.

He found himself at the park, where he and Kurt had often gone walking. In the spring, the azalea garden was their favorite part. Right now it looked dark and gloomy, shaded by evergreen trees above, the azaleas all dark green foliage, getting ready to go dormant soon. He walked in a daze, concluding he had no one to talk to, nowhere to go. Disaster didn't begin to cover how awful this trip had ended up.

He opened his phone once more. Sebastian had paid for the airfare when he'd booked it, and told him to catch him later, when he got back. He sent a brief message. Back in Lima. Let me know how you'd like me to get the ticket money to you. Thanks for trying to help.

It was a relatively quiet afternoon at Dalton, and Sebastian idly returned the lacrosse ball to his teammate. Matt had asked if he wanted to get some fresh air, practice some lacrosse passes, and then head back to studying. He'd obliged; the weather wasn't perfect, but he welcomed the distraction from the paper he was writing. He held his free arm up to signal Matt to hold on, and fished his phone out of his pocket as it chimed, alerting him to a text.

"Fuck," he spat out softly, reading the message. He hit Call and waited for Blaine to pick up.

"Sebastian?"

"You're back in Ohio. What the hell? Are you all right?" He was already worried, Blaine's voice sounded shaky when he picked up.

"No." Sebastian waited for more. "Um, I called to ask how to pay you back."

Shit. The kid sounds totally broken. And he's avoiding the obvious. "Whatever, we can figure that out later. Where are you?"

Blaine looked around him, tried to steady his breathing. "I'm home. Look, I just can't talk now … I just want to sleep."

Sebastian looked at the phone in his hand, shook his head. "All right, killer. Meet me tomorrow at the Lima Bean, say two PM?" Maybe he really was too tired to talk; he sounded like a mess, and it had to have gone badly, for him to be home now instead of Sunday night.

"Uh, sure. Thanks. See you then." And Blaine hung up. He hadn't wanted to admit that he was wandering around this damn park aimlessly. Maybe sleep was a good idea, maybe at home it could even happen, so he headed back there.

Blaine was relieved that his parents were out. Sure, they'd notice his car at first, then himself, but he was glad to get to his room and crash in his bed. His head was pounding, even worse than that time he'd gotten drunk at Rachel's party and had a hangover the next day. Memories of Kurt's kindness, even when (he'd learned later, when they were together) his heart was aching, seeing him moon over the girl, and nurturing him through the hangover, just brought fresh tears, followed soon after by queasiness. He'd tried again, texting, leaving another message, but Kurt was still blocking him out. He fell into a troubled sleep soon after, his body grabbing what his mind didn't freely give.

"He cheated on me, Rachel! Why the hell do you keep asking if I'm going to call him back?" Kurt yelled, then instantly regretted it, as his roommate dissolved into fresh tears.

"K-Kurt – he was so b-broken, you didn't see him! You just left me to deal with him, you didn't even give him a chance to talk to you!" She hated that she was crying again, but she was also more than a little angry with Kurt just now. Anger and tears went together for her, unfortunately. Her emotions were a whirlwind anyway, but at least, focusing on Blaine, that situation seemed simpler.

"I did do that. Sorry, Rach." His tone begged forgiveness. "But, I just can't. I mean, you talked to him, he made it back."

"You don't really think that helps him, do you?" She shot back, unable to keep the accusation out of her voice. "Who's he going to talk to? His best friend? Oh – that would be you -"

"Stop! He fucking cheated on me, what did he expect me to say? I'm not the one who -"

"You idiot." Rachel cut him off. "You really think he came here, two weeks early, bearing flowers, singing to you, so he could tell you that and leave?"

"I don't know what was in his head!" Switching to a less strident tone, he tried to win his friend back to his side of this. "I'm sorry, Rach. I shouldn't have yelled at you; you've got your own troubles. Stupid Finn, disappeared again, and I'm not really helping you here. I'm no good at this." He felt tears start to threaten, yet again. "Can we not talk about them, for now? I just can't."

Rachel sniffled, already collecting herself. "I'll grab the Ben and Jerry's, you cue up The Notebook."

Sunday morning passed in a leaden state for Blaine. His parents had appeared to accept his story of sudden illness; not hard to believe, looking at his pale, clammy form in the bed, hearing him unable to hold down lunch. His mother had reminded him to drink some Powerade, and he'd deflected her efforts to get him to talk, citing illness and an aching head. His father hadn't said much, but Blaine had heard him as he talked to his mother; his tone of disapproval, always at the ready whenever his boyfriend came up, surfaced, as he guessed that the damn fucking gay bastard in New York was more responsible for his son's state than a virus. He hadn't found either one comforting; his mother, never all that talented at nurturing, seemed concerned over his physical state but had backed down way too easily when Blaine had deflected questions about the trip. But he couldn't share his father's hatred of Kurt: he would have given anything to have Kurt respond to him in some way, and he ached to talk with him.

His phone chimed at 2:10, and he snatched it out of desperate habit. The message was from Sebastian. Where are you?

Damn. He foggily remembered promising to meet at the Lima Bean. He'd totally forgotten. Automatically, he typed back: Sorry, I'm sick. Maybe I can mail you the money back.

No need. I'm coming over. Blaine stared at the phone in shock. He knew he looked awful, probably smelled it too. He tried calling, but Sebastian didn't pick up. Damn. He got up to clean up, was instantly dizzy, sat down for a moment, then got back up, slower this time, and took a fast shower. He changed into some sweats and an old Dalton hoodie, and wondered how he'd gotten his address. Didn't matter; he didn't doubt that he'd show up.

A/N: Will update soon, I promise. If you want to know who is endgame, PM me and I'll be happy to get back to you. That, or any other feedback/comments – I'm always glad to know your thoughts.