Author's notes: Just the epilogue to go (yes, I'm doing one). Thanks to everyone who stopped by and read this, and to those who've left me reviews, I cannot thank you enough. Encouragement helps keep me going, and you guys have been nothing short of incredible. So thank you. Also, this is off-topic, but I feel the need to ask it since it skipped my mind when I updated last. Was anyone else weirded out by the fact Kurt sang "Blackbird" in the show, knowing the context it's used in this story? I'm good at predicting things in shows and movies and such, but that was kind of spooky for me. Especially since it was after Pavarotti died. I knew he was going to sing it, but not back when I wrote that chapter. Hmm...anyway, enjoy.
Blaine stood there in the middle of the field, trapped by the lure of a shadow and a desperate mind. He didn't know what to think anymore. The world swirled around him in a blurry haze of moisture. Everything seemed muted now, grey and lifeless, and more than anything he wished that Kurt was standing there beside him. He didn't need to be whole or sane or anything, just so long as he was there.
But Kurt wasn't there, and the realization of that fact hit him like a freight train.
Oh god, Kurt isn't here.
Blaine's legs were shaking, and he almost fell to his knees. He was sure that if he took a step in any direction that he would surely fall over. My jeans would be soaked from the wet grass, he thought absently and a light chuckle escaped his lips. Why the hell was he worried about that? Something so trivial at a time like this. And it didn't matter anyway; his jeans were already soaked.
His whole body had gone completely numb; his fingers tingling with cold. The longer he stood there, the faster his mind raced, the faster his heart pounded in his chest. Kurt wasn't here. And Blaine couldn't think of any other place Kurt might go. Kurt was lost, crazy and completely alone out there in the rain. What the hell was he going to do?
He could—he could call Burt. He could see if the man had found Kurt. It would betray the fact that this whole mess was probably his fault in the first place, but Blaine was desperate at this point. He reached into his pocket, his eyes still focused on the space in front of him where the shadow had once stood. His fingers scraped through the wet fabric of his pockets, both his jeans and his jacket, to find nothing. He turned to look at the parking lot where the lone car sat on the periphery. His car. He'd left his phone in his car. He had to call Burt or Finn or somebody. Somebody had to know something. He needed to get back.
Blaine staggered back toward the parking lot, completely disheartened as reality began to set in and feeling returned to his body. His feet slipped on the slick blades of grass, but he moved ever onwards until his shoes scraped against asphalt. Rain had plastered his unruly curls to his forehead and his face suddenly felt far too warm, almost like the skin was burning. He was crying, he realized absently. The rain was washing away the hot trails of his tears but that familiar sting to his eyes and nose was unmistakable.
He fumbled with his keys and clambered into the cab of his car, water dripping off of his body onto the seats and scuffed car mat beneath his feet. He sat in there in silence for a moment, his hands gripping the steering wheel, just watching the rain as it slunk down the windshield. It wasn't coming down anywhere near as strong as it had been—the heavy sheets from before had calmed to just a steady fall of moisture. The car was dark—the clouds overhead were blocking out most of the light—but Blaine couldn't muster up the energy to start the car and illuminate the cab with the dim lights of the dash.
The large brick building of William McKinley High School loomed ahead of him, blurry through the watery glass, and Blaine wanted to scream. He hated this school and everything it stood for.
He hated it for ignoring the torment of its students. He hated it for scarring such a strong person like Kurt so badly that he had to flee. He hated it for having Kurt in the first place. He hated it for coming up against Dalton in sectionals for the glee competition this past year.
He hated that he couldn't get rid of the damn place no matter how hard he tried to purge it from his life.
It wasn't fair. He'd been happy. He'd finally been happy before McKinley and its students had wormed their way into his life, and right now there was nothing he wanted to do more than set the place on fire. Even if it had given him Kurt. Public schools had ruined his life and then gone around and presented him with one of the most wonderful things he could ever imagine in Kurt, only to take that away from him too. It wasn't fair.
It wasn't fucking fair.
His face still burned, but he couldn't feel any tears. Maybe he'd run dry. After everything that had happened he wouldn't be surprised. He laid his head back against the seat and tried to gather his thoughts together.
So, Kurt wasn't here. Blaine really didn't know Lima all that well, even if Kurt lived here and he almost knew the way to a few of the residences for the New Directions kids. He didn't know where else Kurt could be. He'd never talked about any coffee shops or restaurants he'd liked to visit except, no parks or special places from his childhood that he'd find refuge in. There was nothing.
Nothing except McKinley. And Kurt wasn't there.
His eyes trailed over to the dash, where he'd dropped his phone. It had slid down the slanted surface to wedge itself under the windshield. Blaine stretched himself forward and snagged the device with the tips of his fingers. He should call Finn. Or Burt. Let them know that he'd let them down, let them know he'd failed. But his fingers didn't move.
Jo's face swam in his memory and some of her last words to him before she left played over and over in his ear.
Courage, Blaine. You've just gotta have a little courage.
He couldn't do this. He couldn't give up.
Courage.
He dropped his phone back into the cupholder with the little pink nametag and started up the car. He couldn't run away again. Kurt was out there somewhere, and Blaine needed to find him.
The streets were nearly deserted as he drove; no one wanted to be out in this weather. The cars that passed by sent up hug sprays of water across the road, across the sidewalks. Blaine had no idea where he was going; the streets of Lima might as well have been the streets of Beijing. He simply drove, searching sidewalks and side streets for a lone figure in the rain.
His phone was silent and dark, so Burt hadn't found Kurt either, and he hadn't come home. Finn would call. Blaine had complete faith in that.
After navigating his way through the latest neighborhood, Blaine felt hopelessness flare up again in his belly. This was pointless. He wasn't getting anywhere, and Kurt was still nowhere to be found. He'd stopped not too long ago to text the few numbers from New Directions that he had in his phone: Mercedes, Rachel, some kid named Artie, to see if Kurt had wandered over to their houses. He needed to know if they'd heard anything from him, though he kept the reason for looking for Kurt to himself. There had been nothing. Not a one of them had seen him today.
The light in front of him turned green and he started forward again. He had no idea where he was or where he was going; maybe he'd have a revelation sometime along the way to wherever the hell it was he was headed.
When the streets started looking familiar again, he realized that he was heading back to the damn school. It was as good a place as any. He looked at the clock on the dashboard and his heart sank. Too long. Kurt had been missing for too long. He was going to have to give up the search. Finn needed to know. Burt deserved to know. He hadn't found Kurt.
He pulled into McKinley's parking lot, and his heart gave a start at the figure standing there.
No. No, it couldn't be—he was seeing things again.
But that was the exact same shade of blue that Kurt's shirt had been.
He barely thought to put the car into park before he stepped out onto the asphalt once more; the keys were still in the ignition, the front door hanging wide open, and the headlights cutting through the gloom like great yellow beacons. Blaine couldn't get his feet to move fast enough. The phantom that may or may not have been Kurt hadn't moved, but it hadn't disappeared like last time either.
"Kurt!" he cried out, hoping for some sort of reaction, but there was none.
His breath was coming too fast, too heavy, and his feet kept stumbling over one another. It was Kurt. It had to be. The hair he took so much pride in was dark with water and stuck to his forehead, the fabric of his beautiful blue shirt hugging the planes of his chest. He was staring out into the rain, toward the direction of the school, but his eyes were distant, like he wasn't really seeing anything.
"Kurt?"
Kurt turned toward him, and Blaine couldn't see anything but the blue of Kurt's eyes. His skin was so much paler than it should have been, and Blaine longed to reach out and touch him. The skin of his ears was raw and bleeding.
"Blaine?" His voice was soft and sounded so very, very lost; it was almost inaudible under the white noise of the still falling rain, but it was like the sweetest music Blaine had ever heard. "Oh god, is that you?"
Blaine swallowed and searched Kurt's face. He looked so vulnerable in that moment that Blaine wanted to cry. "Yeah, Kurt. It's me."
His arms were suddenly full of Kurt; he could feel the other boy trembling against his chest. He was warm and real and Kurt and Blaine was crying again. He had to be.
"I thought…" Kurt paused, his voice choked with emotion. He clung to Blaine as though he hadn't seen the boy in years, his arms wrapped around his torso like a lover greeting a soldier come home from war. Blaine found that he couldn't move. This didn't seem real. "I thought I'd lost you," Kurt whispered into his jacket.
"What do you mean?"
Kurt looked up at him, and his eyes were so full of fear that Blaine felt his heart breaking. "They said they had you. They weren't going to give you back, and I…I couldn't find you. They said you had to disappear because you were trying to sabotage me. But they lie; they always lie, and I had to find you, Blaine. I had to find you. I couldn't let them take you." Kurt's face crumbled and Blaine wanted nothing more than to sweep Kurt into his arms and kiss him and love him until all of the shadows fled from his mind. But Kurt wasn't his, no matter how much he wanted it. That didn't mean he couldn't be there for him.
His hands found the gentle curve of Kurt's cheeks, and he tilted the boy's face upward so he could look into his eyes. The skin under his palms was cold and wet with the rain, but it was real, and that was what really mattered.
Courage, Blaine. You've just gotta have a little courage.
Kurt's eyes were bottomless, and Blaine felt as though he could drown in them if the rain didn't get to him first. He moved his arms down to wrap around Kurt's hunched shoulders, and he laid his head on Kurt's rain-slicked hair. The vanilla scent of his shampoo had long washed away, and all that was left was the rain and something distinctly Kurt. It felt like coming home.
"It's okay, Kurt," he murmured softly, pulling the boy even closer. "I'm right here. Everything's going to be okay."