A/N: SURPRISE! EARLY CHAPTER! I'm going to be out of town this weekend so I thought I'd post this right before I hit the road, so no chapter tomorrow :) Thank you so much for all the love you've been showing this story. It means so, so much to me! We have a bit of a break through below, some heavy emotions and a little Blaine POV! Also, there is a song that is mentioned in the chapter: Silhouettes by Aquilo. I don't know if you're like me but I really like to have a song playing in real life when I read it in the scene, just makes it all that more impactful. So please, feel free to give it a listen; I think it really enhances the reading experience. Anyways, I'll get out of your hair. Enjoy!

Disclaimer: I do not own Glee.

Chapter 5

The day dawned, hot as hell, just like every day so far but it felt entirely different. As Kurt dragged himself out of bed (too early for a Saturday if you asked him), he couldn't shake the feeling that today's verdict meant something monumental.

He was going to his first doctor appointment since coming to Cassville and as nervous as he was, he couldn't help the small bubble of hope building in his chest. Dangerous, frivolous hope that he tried desperately to squash, with no luck. What if the doctor said he was doing great and he could leave early? What if they said there were absolutely no signs of lasting nerve damage? What if, what if, what if…

Kurt got up and moved to the bathroom, his compliant body seemingly trying to reinforce his musings of a clean bill of health. He felt reinvigorated and well rested. His body moved when he wanted it too, without complaint; a far cry from how he'd felt even yesterday.

See? A little slice of Kurt's brain said, You're cured! But the logical side of Kurt's brain scoffed and scolded the other side, Don't get too excited, let's see what the doctor has to say.

Kurt showered, taking his time to clean the every persistent film of humidity from his skin. He constantly felt immersed in it. Ironic that he was trying to wash it off with water.

He styled his hair, as he did every morning, combing his hair into a soft, tall coif with a good amount of hairspray to top it off. He also considered wearing a pair of his favorite skinny jeans, just for a quick and easy confidence boost, but then remembered that Arkansas was either closer to the sun or closer to hell because no matter what, it was guaranteed to be in the 90s today and that confidence boost wouldn't exactly ward off heat stroke. He settled on a pair of his dance shorts and a tank top.

He looked at himself in the mirror, saying over and over in his head, No matter what, everything will be fine. It'll be fine, it'll be fine, it'll be fine…

He walked down the stairs to the kitchen, quietly as possible, the old wood still creaking despite his efforts. As he entered the kitchen, he saw that his silence had been wholly unnecessary as there sat Darla, looking tired with her hair a frizzy, fluffy mess of dark waves, wrapped in a thin gray jersey robe.

She yawned, "Mornin' darlin'." She stood up from where she was sipping coffee at the table and kissed Kurt on the cheek. "You want some coffee?"

"Uh, sure," Kurt answered, a little shocked. Darla wasn't really a morning person. "What are you doing up this early?"

"I wanted to wish you luck today," Darla said, as if it was obvious. She handed him his coffee and sat back down with a fresh cup for herself. "How are you feelin' about it?"

Kurt took a sip of his too hot coffee just to buy some time but decided that an outright lie wasn't really necessary. "I'm a bit nervous I guess." Okay, more like a lot nervous but whatever.

Darla reached out a hand to pat his on top of the table. "It'll all be okay, darlin'. No need to be nervous. Do you want me to go with you? I could be ready to go in-"

"Oh Darla, no, no, you don't need to do that. That's sweet of you though." Kurt cut in. He was touched that Darla would wake up before 10 am on a day she didn't have to just to make sure Kurt wasn't an emotionally unstable mess (which he was a little but that was beside the point).

"Are you sure?" Darla questioned.

"I'm sure," Kurt assured her, hoping that his confidence would blossom into something solid and real. Something he could hold onto today.

They sat in a comfortable silence before Darla finally declared that Kurt had to at least let her make him some breakfast before he drove to Benton. Given his limited time though, he gladly accepted some wheat toast and orange juice before he forced himself to get in his car and begin the thirty minute drive.

The drive felt like an eternity long but it passed in the blink of an eye. Suddenly, Kurt was sitting in a parking lot, staring at an unassuming red brick building with simple yet nicely kept landscaping. It was humble but well maintained. It was either a beacon of hope or a destroyer of dreams. Kurt wouldn't know until he went inside.

So he waited for a few minutes until he positively, absolutely had to go in for fear of missing his appointment. He rushed into the lobby like he'd been stuck in traffic, the likes of which did not exist for a 50 mile radius and told the receptionist he was here for his 8 a.m. appointment with Dr. Hill.

He didn't need to wait very long before an older man, possibly in his 50s and aging rather gracefully, opened the door to the back and called for a Mr. Hummel.

Kurt gripped the wheel with a force that threatened to snap it in two. He was speeding but he didn't really care. Did this little podunk town even have a police officer? Or would it be a sheriff? Movies always made it seem like small towns had a sheriff. Regardless, Kurt didn't really care all that much as he barreled back towards Cassville, fast enough that it probably seemed like he wanted to be there. Which I don't. Kurt thought. Fast enough that it probably seemed like he had somewhere to be, someone to go to, something he was racing toward. Which I don't, Kurt's brain repeated angrily. Outsider. His brain spat. Outsider.

He bit his lip. Hard. He fought back his tears desperately as they collected in hot pools. His face felt flushed and it spasmed with his effort to contain himself. He twisted his hands on the steering wheel in a futile attempt to ground himself.

Kurt had known - he had known - he shouldn't get his hope up. He had fucking known that from day one. Had highschool taught him nothing? His mom's death? His dad's heart attack? Good things didn't just happen to Kurt Hummel. No. Every god damn thing was a fucking struggle that was yanked away from him too soon. And dance was the latest thing on the chopping block, it seemed. The guillotine blade was poised and ready.

Kurt took a turn a little too sharply but didn't let up on the gas. It was bullshit. All of it. It was too early to really make any definitive claims on your progress yet, Mr. Hummel, the doctor had said. So then why the hell did he have Kurt waking up with the sun on a fucking Saturday then? Why had he made Kurt go through all of this, this turmoil if he didn't have any news? Not good, not bad, just...just nothing.

Kurt was stuck in limbo and answerless. He bit back a sob as his heart pounded in his chest with rage. He was angry, oh god was he angry.

He had woken up today, expecting something. Literally anything. Some kind of guidance or verdict or plan so he knew where he stood. But instead, his doctor had looked over his charts and poked and prodded him and asked him dozens of questions about physical therapy and then basically done the equivalent of shrugging his shoulders and saying, I don't know. Which felt like a slap in the face.

Kurt was exhausted. He needed answers, he needed some kind of guarantee but they were in short fucking supply right now for him and he wasn't sure how much more he could take. How was any of this fair?

With a dull shock that only registered somewhere deep in the back of his brain, Kurt realized he'd somehow driven himself to the dance school in his fugue state.

Wordlessly, Kurt pulled the wheel sharply, parked poorly and threw open the door to his car. The school was closed and no one was here. Kurt needed this; he needed to be alone. He needed so much right now that he couldn't have so he'd take this. He'd take what he could get.

He unlocked the school with shaking hands, missing the lock a few dozen times until Kurt felt like screaming. Could his body do anything right?

Finally, fucking finally, Kurt wretched the door open and threw himself inside. He practically stumbled through the lobby and into one of the two class rooms.

Kurt pulled his phone out, still shaking, desperate to feel anything but the hopeless anger he was feeling right now. He scrolled and scrolled and scrolled through songs until he found one that hit something in his heart. He connected to the bluetooth speakers that surrounded the room and hurriedly hit play.

He took a breath. He closed his eyes.

And he danced.

A week ago, Blaine had been damn near ecstatic when Darla had given him a key to the school. He had mentioned that he could get more done on the weekends when the school was closed and she had agreed. But Blaine had also been pretty keen to finish up the job and get as far away from that conceited, petty, stuck-up city kid.

Except now, just a week later, Blaine didn't really feel that way anymore. About the job or Hummel. As it turned out, Kurt was actually...well, not what Blaine had expected. Not what I had assumed, Blaine thought with pangs of embarrassment and regret at his boorishness. His grandma had always called it "putting the cart before the horse" and apparently, Blaine was pretty bad about doing that.

He wouldn't apologize for being protective over his town. These people meant more to him than he would ever have words for. So yes, he was wary of newcomers, especially when it seemed like most of them always seemed to want something from this little corner of the south, and gave nothing in return. But he probably should have also assumed that Darla wouldn't have brought anyone here if she didn't trust them.

Lesson of the week: Don't make assumptions; they get you nowhere. Oh, and they kind of make you look like a dick.

Alas, he had and now he had a key to the dance school that he had basically begged for, so here he was, going to the school on a Saturday to grout some tiles. The saddest part? This was probably the most exciting plan he'd had on a weekend in a very, very long time.

He drove his pickup into town, the gentle rumble of the engine soothing to Blaine as he meandered down the streets before most people had awoken. People were lazy on the weekends, the pace here was slower and Blaine loved it.

He couldn't live more than a 15 minute walk from the school and if he hadn't needed to lug all of his tools with him, he would have gladly taken the stroll.

As Blaine took the final turn and saw the dance school on his right, he noticed a lone car parked haphazardly in the small parking lot. A car that he recognized.

What was Kurt doing at the school on a Saturday? Blaine got out of his truck, deciding to investigate further before bringing any tools in; Blaine didn't want to interrupt anything if Kurt was working. Honestly, he kind of hoped that the other man would provide a built in excuse for Blaine to not work today. He had other projects that could use his time.

Blaine approached the school and tried the door, only to find the door locked. Huh, so I guess Darla didn't tell him I might show up? No problem though, Blaine unlocked the door only to be punched in the gut with loud music when he opened the glass door. It was amazing that the sound was being contained so well considering that the entire front of the school was made of floor to ceiling windows.

Blaine edged in, suddenly feeling like he should be quiet. Like he was entering something private, perhaps something he shouldn't be involved in. But his curiosity wrapped around his heart and pulled him inside. He locked the door behind him.

It was then that Blaine recognized the song. Silhouette by Aquilo? Blaine raised an eyebrow. He'd always pictured Kurt as more of a Broadway baby. This seemed very indie, very alternative very...emotional.

As if on their own accord, Blaine's feet carried him across the lobby, straight back to the mouth of the practice room that screamed this music.

And there was Kurt, his limbs long and fluid, his face desperate and needing. His arms extended like his fingers were trying to reach for something, anything. He looked unhinged and oh. Oh, there was pain.

Blaine stood, rooted in his spot. He couldn't have moved if he had tried but Kurt wasn't really a dozen feet from him. No, Kurt was in his own world. His eyes were far away, transporting him to a world where his body hadn't betrayed him. Where he hadn't lived the best parts of his life by 25.

Kurt's dance wasn't really ballet, it was something more wild, something more unpredictable and liquid, something that broke the rules. He was moving like his body was breaking out of reality. Desperate to escape this cage.

Kurt spun and dropped, rough and loud to his knees, before his body somehow seamlessly twisted until he was standing again. That was when Blaine saw his face. He saw pain. He noticed Kurt's labored breathing, like if he stopped now, he'd be sobbing. He noticed that Kurt's legs shook, in those tiny moments where his body stilled, less than the time it took to breath in, he was straining. He was fighting. Blaine noticed tears, running silently down this ragged man's cheeks.

Blaine also noticed, in this moment that, compared to this? The Kurt he'd been interacting with the last couple of days was hollow. But this Kurt in front of him was full and bursting and so much larger than life. He filled the room with his presence. He was larger than life, even as he seemed to be folding in on himself. He was magnetic. Blaine couldn't look away.

The music became barren as the words Blaine knew so well rung out.

Just hold me…

Just hold me...

Kurt stood, stretched up on his toes, arms extended, his whole body vibrated and Blaine knew that Kurt was crying for something to save him. He was raw and vulnerable.

But the music took off again and so did Kurt. He danced with abandon, like it was the last time he ever would. But his movements were becoming wild and unfocused. Sloppy, even if beautiful and there was a small moment, one Blaine was positively certain he'd never see again. Kurt's legs gave out from underneath him and he let gravity take him down.

As if the dancing had been a spell, the music stopped and Blaine's feet were freed from the floor. As if given permission (which he certainly had not) he moved to Kurt at once, dropping to his knees and startling the shuddering puddle of a man. But looking too exhausted to care, Kurt wordlessly fell into Blaine's open arms.

Because Blaine didn't have words right now. He didn't know what was wrong and he was pretty certain that he wouldn't know how to help, even if he did. This depth of pain he could clearly see was out of is wheel house. Well, maybe not...Blaine thought, but it's been a long time since everything with my parents.

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry," Kurt gasped, obviously not having enough breath control to breath, sob and talk at the same time, but he still tried. "I'm fine."

Blaine barked out a laugh. "Um, maybe our definitions of fine are different but you don't really look fine to me."

Kurt quirked an eyebrow, his tears a little lighter but still emotional, "Are you calling me ugly?"

His attempted joke tore another laugh from Blaine, "Never."

They sat in silence as Kurt worked on composing himself. Blaine held on to him, not sure what else he could do. When Kurt finally pulled away, he looked embarrassed. It was hard to spot the blush on his blotchy face from all the crying, but Blaine was pretty sure he still saw one.

"I can't do this," Kurt choked out, the small modicum of levity vanishing.

"Do what?" Blaine asked, his grip loosened so he could look at Kurt.

"This," Kurt said, gesturing to the room as if it was obvious. "I can't, I can't I-I can't dance," he said, sounding terrified at the words he'd shoved out. A fresh wave of tears began to pour out of him.

"But that's not forev-"

"But what if it is?!" Kurt yelled. "What if I don't ever get better? What if I don't heal?" His eyes were rimmed in red and wide.

"I thought you said that this was a common injury amongst dancers?" Blaine felt like he was missing an essential piece of this puzzle. The one that unlocked the reasons for Kurt's terror.

"It is," Kurt's voice then dropped to a whisper, "They also say that I have a 90% chance of a full recovery. I'm young, I'm healthy and we caught it early…"

Blaine waited. Kurt stared down at his hands as they twisted together.

"We didn't catch it early." Kurt whispered. Still looking down, he continued, "I hurt myself months before I told anyone. I just thought...I hoped it would go away…" He sounded ashamed and so, so tired.

Blaine sat in silence once more.

"I have a 90% chance of a full recovery," Kurt reiterated. "But all I can think about is that other 10%. The one where I live with this pain for the rest of my life."

Kurt finally lifted his eyes to look into Blaine's. He looked like he'd used every last ounce of energy.

"How bad is it? The pain, I mean," Blaine asked, keeping his voice low because it felt like the right thing to do. Like if he spoke any louder, he'd shatter Kurt.

Kurt's breath hitched but he caught it. "Bad." Was all he said and Blaine knew that was all he'd get.

But Kurt surprised him by sighing hugely, "The doctor said I need to relax, that it will 'aid in my recovery'," He placed thick air quotes on that. "But I'm not sure how I'm supposed to relax when my life and livelihood is literally hanging in the balance." Kurt laughed without humor and hung his head, shaking it back and forth in disbelief. How had his life ended up at this point?

They sat in silence for a moment, Kurt staring at the ground, looking desperate to hold himself together. An idea formed in Blaine's head. A small, simple one but...an idea none the less.

"Ya know, we have this saying down here: Southerns walk slow because it's too hot to walk fast." Blaine said.

"Amen to that," Kurt muttered under his breath, "But what does that have to do with anything?" He looked up to find Blaine's eyes.

"It just means...things move at a different pace here than they do other places; especially a place like New York. Down here we take our time, we enjoy ourselves, we live in the moment. And it seems like you could use that. Let me help you." Blaine wasn't sure what all this would entail but he meant the words; he wanted to help.

"No offense, but I'm doing enough 'living in the moment' right now and let me tell you, my moment currently sucks. I'd rather not be living in it." Kurt quipped, not mean, just defeated.

Blaine chuckled a bit but had to disagree. "Honestly Hummel, to me it sounds like you're doing a lot of future tripping right now."

Kurt's brow furrowed so Blaine continued.

"You're worried about the 10%, you're constantly counting down the summer and don't get me wrong, I get it. It's not a bad thing to plan or be prepared but...I don't know. If you were really living in the moment, you'd realize that right now you're in a pretty special town, with pretty special people teaching at a school with your amazing aunt Darla. That doesn't sound too bad to me."

Kurt appeared to really take these words in, process them, swish them around in his mouth like a fine wine, trying to discern its origins and unique flavors. Deciding if he liked them. If they agreed with him. And if he agreed with them. "I suppose you have a bit of a point." He conceded.

"Let me help you," Blaine said again, "Let me help you live in the moment this summer. We have about 10 weeks left, right?"

Kurt nodded, eyes holding Blaine's steadily.

"Well then Hummel, in the next 10 weeks, I promise to teach you how to slow down and enjoy your life a little. You're not in New York-"

"Oh really? I hadn't noticed."

"-So let me teach you how to live in Cassville."

Kurt paused considering that. "How?"

Blaine just smiled, an idea, another one coming to mind. "I'll pick you up tomorrow at 10."

Kurt was left wondering what he'd just gotten himself into. The summer of surprises had just kicked it up a notch.

A/N: There have been only a couple moments in this story where it really felt right to switch the POV over to Blaine, so let me know what you think! Please leave a review and don't forget to follow and/or favorite. See ya'll on Wednesday :)