"Kurt – please."

Kurt kept walking, deliberately ignoring the voice calling after him and trying not to react in any way.

"Just let me explain, Kurt – please," Blaine begged again, his voice sounding choked.

Kurt continued walking. The landscape appeared ahead of him as he walked, shifting seamlessly from a well-maintained park to a school sports hall. He tried to pretend the person hurrying after him was as unremarkable as the changing scenery.

"Kurt…"

The temptation to turn around was strong and once or twice he very nearly did. He wanted to look Blaine in the eye and listen to what he had to say, to hear his reasoning and be convinced to change his mind on him. He desperately wanted to hear Blaine say something pivotal that would turn this whole mess around and put things right again. But he didn't honestly believe that would happen. He didn't think anything Blaine had to say would change things for the better. He was sure Blaine would only repeat what he'd said last time, and Kurt wasn't going to change his stance on that, not when it was clear he was putting more of himself into their relationship than Blaine was. Blaine had all but admitted their relationship meant very little to him and Kurt didn't want to hear his pathetic apologies. Blaine had been lying to him, he was hurt, and he wasn't really ready to try and smooth things over.

As the sports hall became a city street, Kurt walked. Blaine's footsteps continued to follow him, the sound changing with Kurt's as they walked from grass to wood to concrete. Every now and then Blaine would call out his name or say something to try and convince him to stop, turn around, and listen to him. Kurt wasn't sure why he didn't just say what he wanted to, regardless of whether he was facing him. Though Blaine perhaps felt his words wouldn't be as sincere if said to Kurt's back.

Eventually, Blaine stopped calling after him and just his footsteps followed Kurt as he walked on. Kurt didn't know where he was walking to, but the destination wasn't a concern of his. He needed to walk to avoid Blaine, so that's what he was doing. He would keep walking for as long as he needed to.

Sometime later, Kurt became aware that he could no longer hear any footsteps but his own. Cautiously, he glanced fleetingly over his shoulder, only to see nobody behind him. He stopped and spun around.

An empty stretch of concrete pathway led to a misty white horizon. Blaine was nowhere to be seen. Despite his decision to ignore him and his attempts at making amends, the fact that Blaine had given up made Kurt feel worse. Deep down, beyond the part of him convinced Blaine didn't care about him, he really wanted Blaine to fight for him. He'd wanted Blaine to keep begging for his forgiveness, to never be satisfied until he'd done absolutely everything he possibly could to fight for him. He'd wanted Blaine to run after him, grab him by the arm, and make him listen. He'd wanted him to scream after him with tears clinging to his cheeks, to tell Kurt how sorry and wrong he was in the most emotional and dramatic of ways. He'd wanted something – something more than just a few feeble attempts to make him stop and listen while trailing behind him like a shadow. But perhaps Blaine didn't care about him enough for more than that.

The rage at Blaine and his own stupidity reared up inside him once more.

His anger filtered into his wakefulness. Kurt was so pissed off the next morning that he abandoned his usual moisturizing regime midway through after his trembling hand failed to unscrew a lid off one of his jars of cream. Growling in frustration, he shoved the jar away from him, yanked on some clothes, and stomped downstairs, muttering under his breath.

"All those times I told myself I wouldn't be so naïve and I act like a fucking idiot over the first guy who shows an interest in me."

He shoved bread into the toaster and slammed on the lever to put the slices down to toast.

"I can't be with you because of my parents," Kurt sneered, mocking Blaine's voice, twisting his smooth tones into dull knives. He snorted inelegantly as he pulled a plate out of the cupboard. "What a load of bullshit. What kind of reasoning is that? Even fucking Romeo and Juliet managed."

His snarling and muttering eventually slowed to a stop as he continued to make breakfast. He ranted inside his head instead, bitterly going over how Blaine's lack of effort to make amends provided proof to his theory that he'd never cared about him. He was making himself feel worse by going over and over it, replaying the worst parts of their argument and repeating his own horrible conclusions, but he couldn't help it. It was like a broken tooth he couldn't stop poking with his tongue.

He banged a coffee mug down on the counter and yanked open the fridge door, muttering under his breath again as he rooted around for cream for his coffee and the raspberry jelly. He slammed the fridge door shut with a nudge from his hip, and jumped when his dad was revealed to be standing on the other side of it.

"Dad! I didn't hear you come in."

Heart racing from being startled, Kurt turned his back on his dad and set the cream and jelly on the counter. "Do you want some breakfast?"

He heard the rustle of his dad's clothing and saw him appear in his peripheral vision, leaning against the counter, watching him. Kurt fumbled with the lid on the jar of jelly.

His dad ignored his question, still focused on Kurt's skittish behavior. "I can see why," he remarked. "What's all the banging around about?"

To hide his face from his dad's scrupulous gaze, Kurt pulled open the cutlery drawer and busied himself getting out a knife and spoon.

"Nothing in particular," he answered as offhandedly as he could. "Just woke up on the wrong side of the bed this morning, I guess." He knew as soon as he said it that his dad wouldn't buy it.

His dad made a small noise of disbelief.

Kurt stared fixedly at the toaster, waiting for it to pop. It felt like his dad's gaze was burning into the side of his face and Kurt fidgeted under the intensity of it, waiting with bated breath for his dad to push for answers.

The toast popped up, the coffee finished brewing, and still his dad said nothing. Kurt tried to think of an acceptable reason he could give, tried to justify giving said reason, and then tried to justify continuing to lie to his dad. He spread his toast and poured himself and his dad coffee, arguing it all out in his head.

Handing his dad his mug of coffee, he carried his toast and coffee over to the table and sat down. His dad joined him, still fixing Kurt with a considering stare.

Kurt took a sip of his coffee, not wanting to start on his toast whilst waiting for an onslaught of questions. Just as he swallowed a mouthful, his dad let out a heavy sigh.

"Kurt, what is really bothering you?" his dad asked. "You know we don't lie to each other."

Kurt shifted guiltily in his seat and took another hasty gulp of coffee. He'd been lying to his dad quite a lot recently: about Blaine and the trip to visit him, about school and the bullying. He didn't like lying to his dad, it made him feel especially uncomfortable and guilty, but he felt it had been for the best.

Ever since his mom had died he and his dad had done their best to tell each other the truth at all times. It was something that had helped bring them closer together and helped them through such a rough time. Being honest with each other had supported them through the difficulties of being a family torn apart by death and then struggling through a diagnosis of a rare condition – it's what helped Kurt gain the courage to come out as gay to his dad. But he'd needed to lie. He'd only been doing it to protect him from the stress and worry, to stop him from ending up back in hospital. Despite the guilt, Kurt still stood by his decision. He'd done the right thing. Remembering his dad lying pale-faced and linked up to drips and machines in a hospital bed was enough to convince him of that.

Setting his coffee mug carefully down on the table, Kurt looked across at his dad's expectant face. He couldn't tell him everything, but it was time he told him about Blaine. The truth behind that wasn't so easy to hide.

"It's Blaine," he began, hating the wave of emotion that hit him from just saying his name. "We had a bit of an argument – or more than that, really. It turns out our relationship – friendship," he scrambled to clarify, "-didn't mean as much to him as it did to me. He said he no longer wanted to communicate with me outside of our dreams. So," Kurt spread his hands helplessly, "the trip is off. You no longer need to worry about me going to Massachusetts to visit someone I barely know."

His dad's brow furrowed in concern and something that may have been anger or disappointment. There was an air of weariness about him as he rubbed a hand down over his eyes. More to give him something to do than he was hungry, Kurt took a bite of toast and chewed it, tasting nothing.

"So he just cut off all contact from you?" his dad asked, his voice sounding heavy, like he was speaking on a sigh.

Kurt shrugged. "He said we couldn't talk on the phone anymore and that we couldn't meet." He directed his reply to the kitchen table, tracing a finger around the rim of his mug as he spoke. "Then we argued, and we haven't spoken since."

"Did he say why he suddenly couldn't be in contact with you?"

Kurt shrugged again, his slumped shoulders barely lifting. "Something to do with his parents." He scowled darkly and removed his finger from his mug. He snatched up his toast and took a vicious bite. "He was obviously lying. He's been lying to me since the day we met."

His dad watched him for a long moment, his brow still wrinkled in concern, his eyes clouded with thought. Kurt took a large gulp of coffee, swallowing the hot liquid so quickly it almost made him splutter. This wasn't how he'd expected this conversation to go. He'd anticipated worry and rage from his dad with a side dose of 'I told you so'. He hadn't expected him to look at it so rationally, to check to make sure Kurt wasn't jumping to conclusions or blowing things out of proportion. Though he knew his dad was only trying to help, he couldn't help but feel a little betrayed, as though his dad was taking Blaine's side. Rationally, he knew he was being ridiculous, but his anger made the ridiculous seem far more likely.

Eventually, his dad nodded slowly.

"What are you going to do about your dreams? You can't go on being pissed off at each other when you're possibly going to share dreams for the rest of your lives."

"It may not be for the rest of our lives," Kurt muttered into his coffee mug. He was getting more annoyed by the minute and wished he could get up and leave the conversation. Now his dad knew about this, he'd opened himself up to not just one discussion about it, but many more over the following weeks, months, even years. His dad would now want to know about how each dream he shared with Blaine went and whether they'd managed to work things out between them or if they'd reached an in passé where they could co-inhabit dreams in peace. He'd worried about the stress on his dad from telling him about this, but he'd never thought about the strain on himself. He wasn't all too sure he'd done the right thing.

"No," his dad agreed, having heard his mutter. "But you don't know that for sure. You can't be sharing dreams with someone you're arguing with, it isn't healthy."

Kurt slammed his coffee mug down on the table hard enough that some splashed out of the cup onto the table. "I'm not backing down just because we're forced to be in each other's presence. He lied to me and basically said he wanted nothing more to do with me. I can't simply forgive and forget."

His dad surveyed him over his coffee mug for long enough that Kurt started to feel uncomfortable again. He reached for his toast and resumed eating it.

"I'm not saying that you should forget what Blaine did and pretend that he never hurt you, but just remember that you two don't, and never will be able to have, an ordinary relationship. Holding a grudge isn't a smart idea."

Not knowing what to say to this, Kurt fidgeted with his last bite of toast, tapping it against his plate instead of eating it.

"Think about the future when you decide where you want to go with Blaine," his dad added gravely.

Unable to stomach it, Kurt tossed his last piece of toast onto his plate. His dad was right about Blaine, he knew that. His dad was thinking about it logically, but he didn't know the full story – the full extent of his relationship with Blaine, the full extent of his hurt. As much as he knew his dad was right, as much as he understood fixing things with Blaine was for the best, for everyone involved, he couldn't bring himself to do it. He'd been hurt, he'd been rejected – he couldn't simply brush himself off and shake hands with Blaine after that. The sting from his wounds had only just begun to dull. Though he knew he should do it, he just couldn't make amends with Blaine.

"Okay, Mr. Anderson, you're good to enroll as a participant in the trial." The doctor looked up from his clipboard and smiled at him. "Do you have any questions?"

A few popped into Blaine's head, all of them sarcastic jibes about whether the drug they were trialling would actually be effective, but he cleared them from his mind as soon as they appeared. He shook his head. "No, I think I understand everything," he answered politely.

"Great!" The doctor handed him a large envelope from on top of his desk. "If you do have any questions, everything should be explained on the information sheets for you in here. There are also letters explaining the trial for you to give to your GP and oneironautist."

Nodding, Blaine stood up to leave, clutching the envelope in his hand. He tried to continue smiling at the doctor, but struggled as his memories and fears of clinical trials flashed through his head as if they were on a reel of film.

"We'll see you in a week for the start of the trial," the doctor said, also getting to his feet.

Shaking the doctor's hand, Blaine thanked him, before leaving the office. He retraced his earlier steps along a short corridor until he emerged in a small waiting area where his mom was sitting reading a magazine. She looked up at the sound of his approaching footsteps and shoved her magazine into her purse.

"How did it go?" she asked, getting to her feet. "What did the doctor say? Are you on the trial?" Her eyes rapidly searched his face, looking for the answers before he said them.

"I've been enrolled in the trial," Blaine told her robotically. "It starts next week."

A wide, delighted smile spread across his mom's face. "That's wonderful! I can't wait to tell your father; he'll be so relieved." She stood for a moment and smiled brightly, excitedly at Blaine. Blaine did his best to smile back, to look as pleased with the outcome as she was, but it was hard. A gloomy, forbidding cloud was hanging over him and he couldn't see much through its darkness.

His mom clasped her hands together. "We were so lucky to get you on such a hot trial at the last minute," she enthused. "They're predicting great things from it; the preclinical work was so promising. It's going to make waves in the field of oneironautics."

Blaine nodded his head in agreement, though he thought little of her words. His mom had said the exact same thing about every other clinical trial he'd participated in and none of them had made any difference to his life. While the chance that this trial could be different was there, Blaine couldn't think the same as his mother. He'd seen too many therapies achieve nothing.

His mom began to lead the way out of the hospital and Blaine followed, hurrying to keep up with her.

"This could be the elusive cure, Blaine," his mom continued, her voice full of optimism. "You could be one of the first people in the world to have your oneironautism treated!"

Pain throbbed through Blaine at the thought; a quick pulse shooting through his chest and stomach. It was quickly stifled by rational thought. If he was treated by this test drug then he would most likely never see Kurt again. It was his reflex reaction to baulk at the thought, to feel a panicked burst of pain, but really it was what he needed. Kurt had ended it between them and had purposefully ignored every attempt he'd made to apologize and set things right again. If Kurt wouldn't hear him out, if he wanted to stick to his words and keep his distance, then it would be for the best if he was treated. Seeing and feeling Kurt in his dreams but being shunned and ignored by him was pain Blaine didn't want to experience for the rest of his life. Getting himself rid of that part of his life would be the best thing he could do. Really, he needed a cure.

He swallowed, his throat tight. "It could be," he agreed as they stepped out through the automatic doors and headed for the parking lot.

Almost as if to reinforce his understanding that the treatment was what he needed, he shared another painful dream with Kurt two days before the trial was due to start. The moment he arrived at the beachside path and known Kurt was also there, he'd been filled with desperation. This was his last chance to turn it all around before he started on the medication that just may change everything.

He looked around for Kurt and found him a short distance away, standing on the path watching the ocean. He looked around briefly at Blaine's approach, before turning his back on him and walking away. One look at him, just seeing Kurt's stony expression once, was enough to extinguish any tiny spark of hope Blaine had left for making amends. Kurt just wasn't interested in his apology.

Desperate, he made one last futile attempt to talk to him, to make him listen, but with hard eyes and a cool expression, Kurt ignored him and Blaine gave up. Slumped against the thick trunk of a tree, he gave in to doing the trial and fulfilling his parent's wishes.

He woke up with tears in his eyes, feeling empty and heartbroken. Reality hit him like a hard slap to the face. He didn't put too much stock in the clinical trials – there was a high chance it would be unsuccessful, leaving him still stuck sharing dreams with a hostile Kurt. Could they really continue to ignore each other and get by on avoiding each other's eye? There would have to be a breaking point eventually, a time when they couldn't take it any longer; he was already struggling to handle it. There had to be another way. Kurt had to see they needed to reach some sort of compromise.

Leaning over to reach his nightstand, Blaine snatched up his phone. He opened up his messages and sent one last desperate message to Kurt, apologizing again and pleading him to respond so they could talk about their future as dream partners.

He waited all day, and the next day, and the next. He checked his phone obsessively, even clicking into his received messages to check his notifications hadn't screwed up. Kurt didn't reply.

He spent the night before the beginning of the trial in a sleep lab at the hospital. Spending the night in one of these labs was one of the worst parts of taking part in a trial. He had to try and sleep in an uncomfortable, unfamiliar bed hooked up to several machines by a tangle of wires. When he did eventually fall asleep, he dreamed lucidly, but Kurt was not there with him, for which he was glad. In spite of their current issues, he still didn't want Kurt involved in anything to do with his doctors. As they took off the EEG pads from his head the next morning and he started to fill out the questionnaire on the night's dream, he wondered if Kurt's presence in his dream would alter the readings from the machines the researchers pored over. He wondered if his heart raced and skipped on the monitors as it did in the dreams when he saw Kurt's face, if the activity in his brain changed when he gazed hopelessly at Kurt's retreating back. He wondered how much of everything that had happened in their dreams had been little more than imagination.

"Okay, Blaine," one of the doctors conducting the trial said, scribbling one final thing on his clipboard. "That's all the pre-trial testing completed." He set his notes down and picked up a box of pills and a piece of paper from the table beside him and handed them to Blaine. Blaine looked down at the items in his hands: the box of medication, white and featureless except for the sticker with his name and instructions on how and when to take the pills, and another sheet of information. He set them down in his lap and looked back up at the doctor.

The doctor smiled apologetically. "I know we're bombarding you with pages of information to read, but it's so you know what to do if there's a problem or you have a question." He indicated the page in Blaine's lap. "Any potential side effects are listed there along with instructions on what to do if you experience them. There may be some we don't know of yet, so if you experience anything out of the ordinary let us know straight away. Your schedule for follow-up appointments throughout the trial is also listed there." The doctor waited until Blaine had nodded his assent, before adding, "Any questions?"

Blaine shook his head. "No, I think everything's been covered."

"Well in that case we'll see you in a few weeks for the first follow-up."

Blaine left the hospital and took his time walking to his car. To his relief both of his parents had been unable to get out of work to accompany him to the appointment. He'd thought it was silly of them to come to an appointment that followed an overnight stay in the hospital, but they had disagreed. They'd be eager to hear all about it and praise their good fortune for getting him on the trial that evening. His family treated a clinical trial like it was some thrilling event he was partaking in.

Unlocking the doors to his car, he got in and sat for a while, staring down at the box of experimental medication. A feeling of recklessness sparked through him.

The main string tying him to the perception of his condition as a unique, special part of him that enhanced his life, that it wasn't an illness, that he didn't desperately need to cure it, had been cut. Kurt didn't want anything to do with him anymore and he found it hard to see any positives in his condition now. If his lucid dreaming was making him miserable, then why shouldn't he do what he could to dull it? He didn't have anything to lose in taking some drugs that may alter how he dreamed.

He ran his eyes over the list of potential side effects, recognizing some of them from medicines he'd taken in the past. They didn't worry him anymore; it was better experiencing them than the torture of being in Kurt's cold presence. If they numbed the pain, it was worth it.

A/N:
I'm really sorry about the long wait for this, guys. Unfortunately, I've been struggling to contact my beta reader and so this chapter hasn't actually been read by a beta. Hopefully I'll be able to get in contact with her again soon.

Thanks to everyone still reading this story! :)