Author's notes: Okay, so I really shouldn't be posting right now because I have an essay to write and midterms to study for and all kinds of things that I really shouldn't have put off, but oh well. I'll sort out my priorities some other day. Hopefully now I can get this essay out before I fall asleep.


"Jo."

She stood in the open doorway like a phantom. The warm, bright sunlight hit her back and lined her form in white, almost like an angel. It didn't matter what she was; she was his saving grace. Always had been. And damn was it good to see her again.

She wrapped her arms around him in greeting. "Hey there, baby bro. You miss me?"

"More than you could ever imagine," he mumbled into her shirt.

"Oh, hey, I brought you a gift." She released him and knelt down onto the floor, shuffling through her bag. She pulled out a giant tumble of fabric from the open zipper.

"What, pray tell, is that?" He pointed at the crumpled black and pink whatever-it-was she had bundled in her hands.

"Your gift. Here." She handed it over to him. "Try it on."

He unfolded it like a flag and inspected the thing, a tiny grin lifting up the corners of his mouth. "It's a shirt."

"Yup," she said proudly as she stood. "One of the clients was handing them out for free at a fair I had to attend."

"No offense, Jo, but do you even know what size I wear? This could probably fit three of me."

"How was supposed to know you hadn't turned into some sort of terrible obese monster? It's not like I see you on a regular basis."

He cocked an eyebrow at her. "Really, Jo? You think I'd gain four hundred pounds in seven months?"

She shrugged. "It's possible."

She cringed a little under the look he gave her. "Okay. So maybe all that was left was size double XL. At least I got you something, right? I don't know, bud. It was free. I couldn't turn it down. I thought you'd like the colors. You could always use it as a sleep shirt or something."

He examined the thing again. The black was fine. Most everyone looked good in it, and Blaine was no exception. The pink design on the front, though, that got him. "What is this?"

"Company logo or something. I'm not exactly sure."

"Mmm." He nodded and traced the thick lines with his fingertips. He recognized this pink. It was the same shade as that stupid nametag, the one still wadded into a little ball in his car. Wonder what Jo would think of Blarn Anderson. He snorted and draped the thing over his arm. "Thanks, Jo. I like it."

"Good, 'cause that's all you're getting from me." Her smile widened and she placed her hands on her hips. "All right, what's going on, Blaine? You're awfully quiet, and mom sounded kind of pissed on the phone. Is everything okay?"

He ducked his head. "Let me help you get your bags upstairs." And he moved toward the luggage piled up at her feet.

"Blaine." She stopped him with a hand on his shoulder. "Come on. What's going on with you? I mean, really. I know something's up. It's me. You can tell me."

"I really don't want to talk about it."

"Blaine." He paused, his hand clenched tight around the strap of her duffle. "You sure about that? Talking always helped before. And you know I'm not going to judge you or anything. Promise."

He pulled his lips in tight between his teeth and sucked in a great lungful of air through his nose. This was Jo. She'd been the first person he'd come out to, the first person he'd told about the harassment at school. She was the one to listen—never judging, never interrupting—just there. Always there. But he wasn't sure if he could tell her about Kurt. He could feel moisture lining the bottom of his eyes, but the familiar sting of tears wasn't there. He was numb. So very, very numb.

He nodded a little and closed his eyes. "Yeah. Yeah, okay. Let's go upstairs first, get your stuff back in your old room, and I'll tell you everything."

She nodded, grabbed the handle of her luggage and followed her brother upstairs, wheeling the thing behind her. Blaine was suspiciously quiet as they climbed the stairs and shuffled down the hallway to what was once her room. The house was so familiar and yet different all at once. She supposed the different color of the paint on the walls had something to do with it. She slowed and ran her fingers along the smooth drywall. Blue. Just like her mother had always wanted when she was a kid. She wondered when dad had finally relented to having everything painted this way.

"Jo?"

Blaine. She shook herself awake. Her little brother needed her. She couldn't afford to get lost in nostalgia now. "Sorry. I got distracted for a second."

His face broke out in a grin. "I noticed." He gestured toward her doorway. "You coming?"

"Yeah, yeah. Don't get your panties in a twist."

Her room had been cleaned, but very little of it had changed since her last visit. A few things were missing, but that was to be expected. Mom had called a while back and asked about a few things, if she was willing to let a couple of her old belongings fall victim to a garage sale. It wasn't as if she was using them. She propped her bag up against the wall and flopped down onto the smooth surface of her old bed. Blaine was still standing just inside the door, her duffle slung over his shoulder.

"You can put that down now, you know."

"What?"

She pointed at the bag. "That. You can set it down."

"Oh. Right. Sorry, my head was somewhere else."

"So I noticed." She sighed and watched as he pulled the strap over his head and placed the bag down on the floor. "You okay, Blaine?"

He walked over to her desk, setting his new shirt down on the clean surface in a wadded black lump. He pulled out the chair and sat down, his shoulders hunched forward, his elbows resting on his knees. "Not really, no."

"What's going on? You've really got me worried, little brother. You're really not acting like yourself and it's kind of scaring me."

"You remember that boy I told you about?"

"Which one?"

"A couple months ago, um, there was this kid who transferred to Dalton."

"Oh, is this the spy kid you told me about? Robert or something?"

"It's Kurt, and yeah, that's the one."

"Okay, so what about him?"

"He's in the hospital, Jo."

"What?"

"Yeah. He was admitted a couple days ago."

"Oh my gosh, Blaine. I'm so sorry. What's wrong? Is he okay?"

Blaine hung his head. "I don't know."

Jo frowned. Her brother was keeping himself a little too guarded. There was something Blaine wasn't telling her. "So, is there anything else I should know?"

He stared down at the floor for a moment, chewing his lips in contemplation before slapping his knees and standing. "I need to show you something." Okay. She could do that, if only it would help him open up.

She followed him to his room, noting his halting steps, the way his socks shuffled loudly against the carpet, his fast, uneven breaths. Something was up. "I haven't been up here in two days, Jo. I've been sleeping in the guest room downstairs." He paused just inside the door and pointed down at the carpet. There was a slight discoloration, a little darker than the rest of the room, but not by much.

"Okay…so what's up with the carpet?"

"That's a bloodstain, Jo."

Her heart skipped a beat. "What?"

"Kurt was here. On Sunday. He killed Pavarotti, the bird I was watching for him. And then he tried to stab me with a pen."

"Wait, what? Are you telling me your friend tried to kill you?"

"Um, sort of? I guess you could-"

"What the hell kind of friends do you have, Blaine? Is that why mom was all freaky at me? Because she's afraid of your friends or something? I thought you got away from all the crazies when you transferred to that all boys school. I mean, jesus, Blaine, what-"

"Would you just stop already? I just—you know, this, this sort of thing right here is why I didn't want to tell you what was wrong, okay? Because I knew you'd flip out on me and then just pretend that nothing's wrong when I stop talking to you. Just. Like. Mom. I swear to god, I'm just—I'm sick of it! Kurt's fine. He's fine." His breath was coming in short gasps as he tried to calm himself down. "He just…forgot," he mumbled as he collapsed onto his bed, his voice breaking. He was just so tired. Of everything. Why couldn't things go back to the way they were? Why did everything have to be so messed up?

Jo stared at him in silence for a moment before sitting down beside him on the bed. The mattress dipped with her weight, and she drew her brother flush against her side, resting his head on her collarbone. "I didn't…I never meant it like that, okay? Sorry. It's just—you know, I've watched people try to hurt you before; I can't stand to see you like that."

"Yeah. I know, but Kurt's not like that, I swear. He…he's a good kid."

"I bet. He sounds special to you."

"Yeah. He is."

They sat in companionable silence for a while. Jo kept her arm wrapped loosely around her brother's shoulders. There had been something troubling about what Blaine had said earlier, and she couldn't just let it slide. "Hey, Blaine?"

"Yeah?"

"What did you mean? When you said, 'he forgot.' What did he forget, your friend? Must've been important." She wasn't looking at him, instead choosing to stare straight ahead out the open window in front of them.

Blaine was quiet. Jo could feel the steady rhythm of his breathing from the subtle rise and fall of his chest against her side. She tried to form an image of this kid, Kurt, in her head. What sort of person was he like? Blaine had talked about him often enough when they spoke on the phone, even if she hadn't been paying the most attention. She was so distracted, she almost missed the soft sound of his answer when Blaine finally spoke again.

"His medication. He forgot his medication."

The kid really was crazy then. Certifiable. She didn't say a word, hoping that Blaine would eventually elaborate further, but he didn't, he just laid there against the soft planes of her side, watching the light breeze make the curtains of his window dance in the sunlight. "I have to see him again today, Jo," he whispered after a while. "I promised his dad I'd come down to see him."

She nodded and pulled him in a little closer. As uncomfortable as the situation made her, this was her little brother—this was his life, his friend, his decision. Not hers. And whatever had happened, whatever this Kurt kid had done was eating Blaine up inside, and it killed her just a little bit to know that she couldn't help him. Not really. She could be there for him, though, since she'd done such a piss-poor job of it before when Blaine had been coming home in tears with little notes scribbled in marker detailing what was going to happen to him. All because he was gay. And she hadn't really done anything to help. Well, she could be there for him now. She could be his backup this time around. Whatever it took. She'd be there.

"Hey, Blaine?"

"Mmm?"

"Do you need a ride?"