In the morning Blaine could hardly wake up. He'd put a substantial dent in Kurt and Rachel's stock of coffee before he finally realized they were all three at the table, eating Rachel's undercooked pancakes. He had a nondescript memory of Kurt showering with him before that, holding him up more than anything so that he wouldn't crash to the tile floor.

He was sort of dozing through breakfast, his head cradled in his hand, when his fourth cup of coffee seemed to kick in, a little, and he straightened up and blinked at them.

"He lives!" Rachel said.

"Are you okay?" Kurt leaned toward him, looking deep into his eyes like he might see in them the root of the problem.

"I'm fine, I'm just…"

"You were mumbling incoherently for an hour," Rachel said.

He put a hand to his hair. Kurt had washed it and let it air dry. "I think I was dreaming."

"You really should see a doctor about that, Blaine Anderson," Rachel pointed at him.

"He has seen a doctor about it, Rachel," Kurt glared at her.

She frowned. "I was joking. I know, I went to the hospital with you, remember?"

"I'm… it's not…" Blaine shook his head. "I'm just exhausted from yesterday."

"Spare me the details, please," Rachel replied.

Kurt was looking at him with wide, worried eyes.

"I just mean yesterday in general. The traveling and the suitcases and … all those stairs. Not from last night."

"Stop!" Rachel yelled, and put her fingers to his lips. When she was sure he wouldn't say any more, she brought her hand back to her lap, and said more calmly, "Luckily for both of you, I heard nothing, and that's the last we're speaking of it."

Kurt and Blaine were silent.

"Might I add," she said a moment later, ignoring her own rules, "that it's actually a good thing you're not staying with us, Blaine. I couldn't handle it." She looked to an invisible point wistfully, and lamented, "I honestly don't think I can ever love again. I can't even stand to look at the two of you together."

"Well, thank you for that," Kurt told her sarcastically, but she ignored him.

Blaine just sighed. He supposed it was his fault for bringing up Finn, but he didn't have the energy or the will to apologize again. So he said nothing.

And on that less than happy note, his last day in New York with Kurt began.

First Blaine walked around the corner with Kurt to the relatively sketchy laundromat he found to pick up the sheets he'd left to wash and dry while Blaine was trying to wake up on the sofa, while Rachel cooked. Blaine tried to carry them back for him, but Kurt wouldn't allow it after the excuses he made over breakfast.

Rachel glared at them when they got back, knowing the implications of washing sheets, and resenting that bringing them back in front of her was rubbing her face in her aloneness, but Kurt repeated his story about how someone else might have used and returned them before he bought them, and that she should wash her new sheets, too. She said she'd do it later, because she wanted to go out.

Kurt's one hundred dollars had run out halfway through the day before, but luckily Burt sent him more, enough to help him "get by" until Kurt found a job.

While they shopped for more housewares, Kurt and Rachel argued over whether or not they should reapply to NYADA next semester, and how soon they should apply to restaurants to get jobs as a waiter and waitress. Should they try to work at the same place? Should they work at a place close to their apartment? Was that even safe? If they worked at some fancy place in Manhattan, they'd make so much more money, but then they'd have to pay for the commute.

Blaine dragged his feet slowly behind them, still not feeling very good, and tried to ignore everything that they said. Kurt periodically turned to frown at him, every now and then would pull him aside and ask if he was okay. Yes, Blaine said again and again, I'm fine. Maybe he wasn't exactly fine, but he wouldn't admit it. He could rest when he got home, and be bitter and grumpy then too. He still refused to bring them down.

By late afternoon they were forced to stop back at the apartment to drop off their purchases, and Kurt stood up tall, waiting for them to pay attention to him, like he had an announcement to make.

"Rachel," he began. "How much would you hate us if Blaine and I spent the rest of the night alone? Like, on a date?"

"In bed?" She glared at him.

"No, out. Around town. Maybe to dinner… and a show."

Blaine gasped and whispered in cupped hands to him, "We should go to Wicked."

Kurt smiled and nodded.

Rachel's jaw dropped. She looked back and forth between them, and finally her shoulders slumped. "Fine. I'll just stay here. Wash my sheets."

"No," Blaine said. "We can't. You should come."

"No, no," she shook her head. "You go. Go on your date. I understand."

Kurt had to drag him out the door because he felt so guilty for the way he thought he'd been treating Rachel, but he was persuaded eventually. He'd gotten to a point where he was completely avoiding thinking about how he only had hours left with Kurt, not even a whole day, anymore. But when he allowed his eventual departure back to Lima to enter his mind, however momentarily, he knew he wanted a night alone with Kurt.

A few trains later and they were walking arm in arm through Times Square. They got last minute, overpriced, upper-upper-upper tier seating for Wicked, during which Kurt held his hand and rested his head on Blaine's shoulder the whole time, including intermission.

Afterward Blaine insisted they go to a fancy restaurant for a late dinner, just so Kurt knew what it might be like to have a post-Broadway performance dinner. They turned to gawk at each person who came through the door after them, but couldn't recognize anyone.

"I guess we didn't pick the right insider restaurant," Blaine said.

Kurt nudged him with the toe of his boot under the table. "No, it's the perfect place," he said.

After dinner they went back to Kurt's apartment and snuggled under the clean sheets and blankets and watched TV on Kurt's laptop in the dark. Blaine fell asleep first, curled into Kurt's side, his nose pressed into the soft cotton of the t-shirt Kurt slept in. He wanted to, and meant to, make love to him again that night but knew he'd never have the energy to, so he was left to only dream about how much he wanted to kiss up one of Kurt's open thighs, and kiss the crease of his leg, and kiss him everywhere, forever.

In the morning Blaine felt better, physically at least, and was able to actually enjoy waking up next to Kurt, as opposed to an hour or so later at the table. Kurt started tossing and turning, trying and failing to hold on to sleep. He went back and forth between curling up against Blaine's back, to rolling to his other side, but even when they faced away from each other, Kurt never let go of his hand. Blaine was already smiling at this, but he had tp laugh out loud when Kurt, half asleep, pulled so hard on Blaine's hand that he rolled over and was forced to drape an arm over Kurt's waist.

"What are you laughing at? What did I do?" Kurt asked, muffled.

"Nothing," Blaine answered.

After a minute Kurt rolled over and blinked at him sleepily. They watched each other for a while, wordlessly. Rays of sun shone through gaps in the blinds and landed on Kurt's eyelashes, and Blaine was mesmerized by it.

"I don't think I'm going to let you go," Kurt said finally.

"Okay," Blaine agreed.

"Want to drop out of school?"

Far away, in the kitchen, Rachel seemed to pick up and drop the two pans she and Kurt owned, and managed to make it sound like she'd picked up and dropped twenty.

Blaine opened his mouth to answer, but before he could say anything, Kurt shook his head. "You can't."

"Why not?"

"You'd never get to go to college, and imagine how much your parents would love me, then."

"I don't care," Blaine said, fully aware they'd reversed the conversation they had in Lima, when Blaine used Burt as a guilt tactic to get him to move to New York.

Kurt knew it too, and he smiled. "Yes, you do."

Rachel screamed a blood curdling scream. Blaine and Kurt waited. A moment later she called out, "No, no… never mind, everything's fine."

Kurt sighed. "We're going to do this. We're going to live apart."

"We are?"

"And it's going to be okay."

"Okay."

"It's not a whole year, anyway. Thanksgiving is in four months. I'll be back then."

"Okay." He could do four months.

But after finally getting out of bed, they were both quiet and depressed. Rachel was half-ready to go to the airport with them but Kurt shook his head at her and she relented.

It was easier to get back to JFK without four of Kurt's suitcases, but it reiterated how sad it was that Blaine had only one, partially full, solitary bag.

They embraced in front of security, the point at which Kurt could follow Blaine no farther.

"We're not saying goodbye," Kurt reminded him.

"I know."

"I'll be back for every holiday, and your birthday, and my birthday, and by then you'll be back here to stay," Kurt said.

"Okay."

Kurt pressed a languid kiss to his cheek. Blaine blinked at him and concentrated on not hyperventilating.

"We can do it," Kurt said, taking a tentative step backward.

"Okay," Blaine agreed.

"We're not saying goodbye."

"I know," Blaine said again.

With one last look and nod, Blaine turned and began the slow and horrible descent into security. When he made it to the other side, Kurt was still standing there, watching, now separated from him by several near-cops and a thick pane of glass. Kurt raised a hand and waved, and Blaine waved, too, before he went to his gate. Was that goodbye?

The flight was delayed an inconsequential 30 or so minutes, and to waste time, Blaine got out his phone. For some reason, perhaps simply fate, it was in that overcrowded JFK lobby that Blaine, seated on the floor across from an airport chain fake-French, fake-Starbucks coffee place, accepted the friend request of one Eli C. on Facebook. He didn't know him, but they had three mutual friends, all Dalton guys.

As soon as he made a post about leaving JFK, Eli replied immediately with a warning: don't try the coffee at that airport chain fake-French place. Blaine looked down at his large latte, which was admittedly the worst coffee he'd ever had in his life, and said, Too late.

It was just to waste time. That was all he meant to do.

—

"How's it feel to be abandoned by the only person who loves you?" Cooper asked later, the night before the first day of Blaine's senior year.

He dropped his phone and glared at him. "Ha, ha."

"Seriously, do you even talk to Kurt anymore?" Cooper asked, kicking his feet up on the ottoman that their parents forbid feet to be on, and turned on the television, flipping through the channels quickly. Blaine assumed he was looking for his own commercial.

"Of course I do. What do you think I'm doing right now?" he waved his phone. That was sort of a lie. He texted Kurt for a second time, who hadn't responded in almost two days, and was at that point sending a private message to Eli. Which didn't actually mean anything, he told himself again. Eli knew about Kurt, they'd had entire conversations about him. And Blaine was allowed to have friends, especially since Kurt got his internship at Vogue and those inevitable awesome, amazing, and stylish New York friends had entered into his life. Blaine was hardly friends with anyone left at McKinley, and felt that the Warblers had forgotten entirely about him. He might have been friends with Finn if he ever saw Finn, but he was always working at Burt's tire shop and generally making himself unavailable. Blaine had the feeling Finn was depressed, but didn't feel close enough to him to bring it up or try to help him with it.

And Eli was funny, and easy to talk to, and they got along well. He thought the only reason he had a small amount of nagging guilt about it was because Eli had stopped posting things on Blaine's wall and had taken their conversations to private messages. It was fine when they had conversations for everyone, Kurt included, to see. But private messages felt like they were hiding something. But they weren't. So whatever, Blaine told himself. Whatever. It was harmless. It wasn't even remotely similar to the Chandler/Kurt situation. All he and Eli ever talked about were movies and restaurants and the ridiculous people Dalton was stooping to accept now, who Eli had the misfortune of attending class with. He said Blaine should come back to restore some dignity to the place, and Blaine said it just wasn't worth it.

He still felt close, or at least loyal, to the students left in glee club, even if it wasn't lost on him that they never invited him to hang out with them outside of school. The first two times he heard on a Monday morning that they'd all gotten together and had a party the Saturday before, he ignored it. The third time it happened, he started to complain about it, as politely as he could, to the only person who seemed to still be listening to him. Eli. Eli just said, as always, "Come back to Dalton." Instead Blaine replied, "How many more days are left until it's Thanksgiving?" And Eli said, "A lot."

Brittany at least indirectly helped Blaine by introducing him to Sam when he ran against her for class president, while he was trying to make his life so busy he wouldn't think about Kurt as often. Obviously, it wasn't the first time he and Sam met, but they consequently became sort of friends, which they hadn't been before Brittany 'introduced' them. Blaine was grateful. He still hadn't met Eli in real life. Their friendship was chained to Facebook. So having Sam around, in real life, to talk to, was a comfort.

When they won the presidency and vice presidency, he called Kurt. And he knew Kurt had pressed the ignore button. He'd called Kurt so often he knew it took his phone a certain amount of times to ring before it went to voicemail, or if it was off, it wouldn't ring at all. It wouldn't ring one and a half times, and then go to voicemail, without an ignore button intervening. That was common sense.

He shouldn't have taken it so personally. He knew Kurt had an internship that meant more to him than almost anything else, that it rendered him busier than he'd ever been before, and that the hours were erratic and that it was entirely possible he was working, or in a meeting with his boss, and that he just couldn't talk to Blaine then. But it was out of Blaine's hands, at that moment, to be calm and logical. It felt like being punched in the stomach, or slapped in the face.

Blaine stopped in his tracks and froze when it happened. When Artie asked about Kurt's reaction to the news, it felt like someone else took over his ability to speak and lied in response. What was happening? He never lied to anyone. All he knew now was that secrets were being kept, and things were being hidden, and there were reasons to be angry and guilty at the same time, and that something bad was happening.

He sank into that booth next to Sam and tried to explain it, but didn't get as far as the problem actually went. Besides, Sam was mooning over Brittany and was not really listening.

Blaine was too hurt to even attempt to call or text Kurt the next day. He assumed, naively, that Kurt would call him first and apologize.

That following morning he'd slept in a little, allowed to miss the first half of school because he had a doctor appointment. He remembered promising Kurt, at one point before he left, they'd call each other twice a day, just because Kurt was so worried about Blaine's health. That hadn't even lasted a month. Kurt had no idea he was going to the doctor that day.

He was combing his hair when his phone alerted to a new message. He figured it was an apologetic Kurt, but it wasn't. It was Eli who asked him how he was feeling that day. "Going to the doctor," Blaine told him. Eli said, "Let me know how it goes."

—

After the appointment he got into his car, intending to go straight home. He couldn't face school after that. His parents would never know anyway. They couldn't even be bothered to drive him to the doctor's office. But his hands were shaking, and he wasn't breathing properly, so he decided to take a couple of minutes before driving. He checked his phone and saw there was still no word from Kurt. But now he wanted to talk to him so badly it didn't matter to him, for the moment, that he was trying to give him the silent treatment.

Kurt actually answered, but said all in one breath, "Hi, I'm so busy right now, are you okay?"

Blaine dropped his forehead to the steering wheel and took a deep breath, trying to calm himself. Kurt's voice and steady breathing. That was all he needed. He didn't reply.

"Blaine? Did you butt dial me?"

"N— no," he said finally. "I'm here."

"What's wrong?" Kurt asked, but not with a particularly sympathetic tone. He asked it in a way that implied he was really asking, What do you want from me?

"Kurt," Blaine said. "Do you think you could come back soon? Like, this weekend?"

"This weekend? Why?"

Blaine didn't want to, or couldn't, say. "Could you?"

"Blaine… hang on, I have to put you on hold," Kurt said.

He waited. A tear he didn't know had been forming dripped down to his chin and fell to his thigh.

"Blaine," Kurt sighed, coming back a moment later. "I can't. I literally just got this internship and, like pay, it also doesn't come with vacation time."

Blaine put his free hand to his closed eyes. "Okay."

"Okay? What happened to our deal about holidays, anyway? I'll be there for Thanksgiving."

"I know."

"I miss you, too, Blaine, but we're going to get through it. I just—"

"Did you ignore my phone call last night?" Blaine cut him off. "I mean, did you actually push ignore?"

"What?" Kurt asked. "No."

"If you were too busy with work, you would have just shut your phone off completely. But it rang one and a half times. Your phone was on, you just didn't want to talk to me."

"Blaine! Why are you psychoanalyzing a missed phone call? I didn't ignore you."

"What were you doing last night?"

"I was at a company party thing. Maybe you called the wrong number."

"It was your voice. It was your voicemail."

"Well, maybe my phone is acting weird. I did not ignore you, Blaine. I promise. I really have to go. I'll call you later."

Blaine took a deep breath and didn't hear when Kurt hung up. "I love you," he said. But Kurt was already gone.

At dinner he asked his parents to take him to his next doctor appointment. They said they were too busy to before he even told them when it was.

He called Cooper after dinner. Cooper told him he couldn't come back to town on such short notice, and to ask Kurt. "I'm sure Kurt will, if you explain it to him. Take some money from Dad and pay for his ticket. Dad won't notice."

He called Sam after Cooper. It rang four times, and went to voicemail, exactly what happens when people genuinely don't answer their phones. He hung up halfway through Sam's voicemail impression of George W. Bush, not wanting to leave a message.

He called Nick after Sam. Nick actually answered. "What are you doing this weekend?" Blaine asked him.

"Going to New York," Nick gushed. "My mom's going for a business trip and she said I could come with her if I promise not to order room service all weekend."

So Blaine didn't even bring it up. He went to the last phone number he knew he should call, and called it.

It rang once. "Blaine? Am I dreaming, or is this actually happening?"

Blaine smiled despite himself. "It's actually happening. What's up?"

"Oh, I'm just swooning because Blaine Anderson is calling me," Eli replied. "What's up with you? How was the doctor?"

"Awful." He turned the words carefully over in his mind before he said them. "I have to have minor invasive and exploratory tests done this weekend."

"Invasive and exploratory are definitely not my favorite words," Eli said.

"They're not mine either. And I'm bummed because I hate my family, and my family hates me, and they won't drive me to the appointment and back. The doctor says I can't drive myself afterward. It's looking like I'm going to take a city bus at this point."

"What about Kurt?"

"New York."

"Yeah, but… well, what about your brother?"

"L.A."

Eli sighed. "This just won't do. I actually know someone who would like to take you and who has a nice and reliable vehicle to top it off."

"Who?" Blaine smiled, even though he knew what he was doing was wrong. He knew Eli had a crush on him, and this was the epitome of leading someone on. But he was desperate and alone.

"Me!"

"But it's in just a few days. I'm sure you already have plans."

"I already canceled them. Well, in my heart. I'll literally cancel them when we hang up."

Blaine chewed on his lip in thought. "Eli, don't take this the wrong way, or anything. But I've been thinking, about you, and I sort of, maybe, get the impression that you might like me. Like me, like me." He didn't know how to say it without sounding like he was in fifth grade. "I don't mean to be presumptuous, I don't actually think everyone I befriend is in love with me, I swear. And I don't even know if you're gay, I mean, we've spent so much time talking about Kurt and I that I can't remember a time we ever talked about people you like. Or might be with." He paused.

"That was a very conjunctive question. Where should I start? Of course I like you-like you, I'd check the yes box of any note you passed me. If everyone who befriends you isn't in love with you they are blind and idiotic. I'm not necessarily gay, I'm not necessarily anything, I'm free from labels. I love and sleep with whomever I want. Usually. And I'm not with anyone right now."

"Okay…" Blaine said slowly. "But I'm—"

"But you're with Kurt, who is your be all and end all, your soulmate, and you will never not be with Kurt, right?"

"Right," Blaine answered, frowning at his fingernails, not sure if he believed himself.

"That is, if one believes that the whole soulmate thing always works out, or is even real. And you already know my opinion on that. I don't believe in soulmates."

"I know." Blaine knew Eli subscribed to same anti-soulmate sentiments as Finn, but maybe even more vigorously than Finn.

"I do believe in having a lot of really fantastic sex with people I have a real connection with, and I've been completely infatuated with you since the first time we talked. Typed."

Blaine put his head back against the wall. "But we can't have a lot of sex, Eli. We can't do anything. I just need you to be my friend. For you to be on my side."

"I am your friend, and I am on your side. Haven't I been, thus far?"

"Yes. You have."

"I'm not even the one who brought it up, it was you. I can be the perfect friend. I can keep how much I want to fuck you silly all to myself. And you can keep saying no. It's your prerogative."

Blaine closed his eyes and took a moment before answering. "I just need you to drive me to the hospital, and back home, and bring me juice and shit. I do like you, Eli, and I don't want this to be weird."

"It's not weird," he said.

"I don't have feelings for you, though. I want to be clear about it. I'm, like, stupidly loyal to my boyfriend."

"I understand."

"So, what's your decision? I'll understand if you can't actually cancel your plans, or whatever." He was sure Eli was going to give up on him, too. People always wanted something he was apparently unable to give them.

"I'm still in, of course. I'm there for you. What time on Saturday?"

Blaine opened his eyes again, surprised. "Three."

"See you then."

Blaine hung up and sunk lower into his bed. The sun had gone down a while ago, and he hadn't bothered to get up and turn a light on. It was too early to sleep, but he didn't want to move.

He also didn't want to think, especially about how he had the slightest hint of an erection since Eli talked about fucking him. It wasn't sexy, it was just kind of gross, wasn't it? At least it wasn't something Kurt would ever say. Being turned on by it was just because he'd practically been living as a celibate since New York. He was usually too sad about Kurt to jerk off to the thought of him.

He picked up his phone and texted Kurt. "I miss you. I miss fooling around with you."

Kurt replied a minute later. "Me too. Thanksgiving."

Blaine rolled his eyes and threw the phone to his desk. He didn't want to think about it anymore. He crawled under the blankets and opened his legs and touched himself to the thought of his last time with Kurt, forgetting about Eli completely. Even if Eli had brought it on in the first place. That wasn't important.