chapter xv

It took a long time to rouse Blaine enough to even open his eyes, and overwhelmed tears slipped down Kurt's cheeks the entire time and dripped onto Blaine's face and cheeks. He ran his fingers through Blaine's curls, caressed Blaine's cheeks and nose and chin and forehead, traced the shape of Blaine's lips with this thumb as if it would get the other boy to say something.

"Blaine, Blaine, please. Honey, look at me, open your eyes, I'm here. I'm here."

Eventually, Blaine stopped twitching, and his whimpers turned to gasps turned to silence. Kurt kept talking, saying the same few phrases over and over between nonsense about television or music. He begged Blaine to open his eyes, murmuring against his skin as he dropped kisses to Blaine's forehead.

"Come on, Blaine, please. I'm here, I'm here, I'm here. I came back for you. Please open your eyes."

Blaine moaned. The sound was low and broken and desperately sad, but he didn't sound as though he's in pain. Kurt pulled back, no more than a few inches, far enough away to see Blaine's face in its entirety but close enough so he could still feel Blaine's uneven breath ghosting across his face. His eyebrows furrowed, his face tilted in Kurt's direction without Kurt's aid, his hand came up to grip at Kurt's sleeve. Kurt had slipped into a quiet, breathless chant of I'm here, I'm here, I'm here, right up until—

"Kurt?"

Kurt's breath caught in his throat and then burst out with a sob.

Blaine's eyes opened incrementally; Kurt could see a little more white and pupil and hazel with every blink. It felt like forever until Blaine was looking up at him with his large eyes open.

"Blaine," Kurt said, voice wobbling as he cupped Blaine's chin. He tried to smile but he was just feeling too much. Lucidity and comprehension quickly grew in Blaine's eyes, and he threw himself forward, grasping at the back of Kurt's blazer as he drew in deep, shuddering breaths.

"You're really here," he gasped. "You really came, you—"

"I promised I would never say goodbye to you," Kurt said thickly. Blaine buried his face in Kurt's shoulder, his fingers twisting Kurt's clothes and biting into Kurt's skin even through the layers; Kurt twined his fingers through Blaine's curls, held him close, and remembered how to breath.

They held each other for a long time while Blaine shuddered and shook in Kurt's arms – long enough for Kurt's knees to have locked and frozen against the unforgiving stone floor. Blaine slipped off Kurt's lap, but once they were standing both boys moved close again so their sides were plastered together, arms wrapped around each other's waists. Kurt picked the torch back up and they slowly, slowly climbed the stairs. Blaine's legs were uncertain, and he smiled up at Kurt beatifically and circled his thumb over Kurt's waist every time the older boy steadied him or carried his weight.

When they emerged from the stairwell, Blaine peered round, confused and a little bit scared.

"What happened?"

Kurt shrugged. "It was like this when I got here. The, uh . . . everything else is different too."

"Even the Lake?"

"Even the Lake," Kurt echoed sadly. His sanctuary for the worst six months of his life – and the place where he'd fallen in love with Blaine – was gone, or maybe it had never even really existed, in any plane.

"Kurt?"

Kurt blinked out of his thoughts and realised he'd stopped walking. Blaine was looking up at him, concern and bliss and trust and . . . and love in his eyes.

"I love you."

Blaine's eyes went wide. Kurt's cheeks flamed and he dropped his gaze to Blaine's shoulders, but he didn't take it back. He would never take it back, not with Blaine.

"Kurt." The boy in question risked a glance back to Blaine's face; the love was shining through, in Blaine's damp eyes and apple smile and every single pore. They moved as one: they cut the inches between their lips to none, meeting halfway, and Kurt thoughtlessly dropped the torch again in favour of cupping Blaine's stubbled cheek. They were smiling too much to do anything more than a series of short, out of sync kisses, only a few seconds long before puckered lips spread into grins. "I love you too," Blaine murmured, his eyelashes brushing against Kurt's cheek as he opened his eyes. "God, Kurt, I love you, I love you, I love you."

Kurt crushed Blaine's body to his own as Blaine's quick fingers danced over his cheeks and neck and their kisses grew longer and deeper, until Kurt's lips were dry and his lungs cried for air.

But, eventually, the kiss did end, and they laid their heads against each other as they caught their breath. Blaine's hand ran slowly up and down Kurt's spine, soothing even in its looseness.

"I've missed you so much," Kurt whispered.

After a pause, Blaine asked, in a quiet voice, "How long has it been?"

"A month and a half." Kurt's voice cracked and a tear escaped. Blaine pulled back and caught it on his thumb, smile soft. "Blaine, I'm so sorry. I couldn't—"

"It's okay," Blaine interrupted. "There's nothing to forgive, Kurt. I love you."

"I love you too."

Blaine took half a step back and shifted his grip around Kurt' waist. "Do you know what—Is that a Dalton blazer? And what – what happened to your face?"

Kurt looked down in surprise; he'd forgotten he was wearing his uniform still, and that of course Blaine would recognise and want to know about it.

"It's a long story," Kurt said.

Blaine went up onto his toes to press a fleeting, grinning kiss to Kurt's cheek. Kurt couldn't help but smile widely back, even though his stomach twisted at the thought of Karofsky. Had he really forgotten about his old bully already?

"I'm not going anywhere," Blaine promised.

"I wouldn't let you."

Blaine laughed and then pushed against Kurt's waist. "Come on. Let's find somewhere more comfortable and . . . far away from here."

Kurt hesitated for a moment before nodding. "But just to warn you," he said in a low voice, "there are other people in the castle."

Blaine's hand stiffened and his eyes widened in fear. "P-people?"

Kurt nodded slowly, taken aback and extremely worried by Blaine's reaction. "They, um. I don't even think they see me. I don't know. Like – like Tom Riddle's diary?" He giggled, but it was forced and uncomfortably high. Blaine swallowed and nodded and seemed to calm down slightly, but Kurt could still feel him trembling beneath his fingers.

"Let's – let's still go somewhere else," Blaine said. Kurt pulled him into a brief hug and quickly, fiercely kissed him. Blaine melted into it immediately, and when Kurt separated again, the shorter boy was able to give him a genuine, if small, smile.

"I love you," Kurt said, and almost entirely the tension in Blaine's shoulders disappeared.

"I love you too. So much."

Kurt smiled at him in return. "Shall we go to the pagoda?"

Blaine pressed their sides together again. "I'll follow you."

They didn't talk until they had crossed the bridge into the pagoda and settled together against one of the sides, pressed together from shoulder to knee with their fingers entwined. At first, the silence had been comfortable and easy, hardly any different from all the other times they'd walked together. But then they had passed the first . . . inhabitant of the castle and Blaine had tensed up, gripping Kurt's waist so tightly he wouldn't be surprised if that part of his body was bruised now, too.

When they had entered into the first communal area – one of the smaller courtyards, but outside seemed to be fairly popular; Kurt preferred being outside, too; it was infinitely less claustrophobic – Blaine had frozen for several seconds, eyes darting around as if trying to follow everyone.

"It's okay," Kurt had whispered, "I'm here," rubbing Blaine's back in a hopefully comforting way. Blaine had relaxed his hand a little and sent Kurt a tiny, awkward smile, taken a deep breath, and then wordlessly allowed Kurt to continue guiding them. He had kept outside as much as possible and probably got lost a few times, and Blaine had still instinctively tensed around large groups, but they had finally found the pagoda. Kurt paused to one-handedly clean the tear tracks off his face again and Blaine had followed suit, and then they had crossed the bridge to the empty shelter and watched the people pass.

The silence was broken first by Blaine. "I could feel myself becoming like . . . them," he whispered. Kurt tilted his head curiously. Blaine swallowed heavily and expanded, "Not really here. Sad. Desperate. Angry. H-hateful. Not really . . . myself, but at the same time, it was still me. I can't really explain it. But that's why – that's why I don't like looking at them."

Kurt looked closely at the people surrounding them. He couldn't discern anything but emptiness from their expressions and his heart ached that they might be feeling like Blaine had described, that Blaine had almost become like that. He tightened his grip on Blaine's hands and could only bring himself to loosen it again when Blaine brought their hands up to his lips and kissed the backs of Kurt's hands and fingers.

"I wish I'd gotten here sooner," Kurt whispers.

"Kurt."

"I know, I know." There was a long pause during which they looked and touched and kissed, to remind themselves and each other that they were together now, and they would leave together or not at all. "Shall I go now?"

Blaine nodded, and Kurt began to fill him in. Blaine switched into comforting mode with barely a blink, holding Kurt and kissing his hands when he started to get overwhelmed, even when he was clearly shaken by the news that his body was now on life support. His fury at Karofsky's kiss and death threat was gratifying, and Kurt had to pull him into another hard kiss when the shorter boy seemed to be taking back his kissing Kurt.

"Don't you dare apologise," Kurt whispered harshly against his lips.

"Okay," Blaine breathed back, and gave Kurt a sweet kiss in return.

Blaine cheered up when Kurt talked about Dalton. Kurt couldn't bear to talk about the outside interest, or confess how sidetracked he got by school and friends; instead, he told stories: the time someone stole all Jeff's underwear and they were still finding briefs and unpaired socks in places all over the school; Nick bruising his wrist trying to breakdance and Wes' punishment scales; the ongoing Words With Friends tournament within the Warblers, and the time Wes freaked out and almost threw his gavel at Thad's head when he realised the fellow councilman and another of the Warblers were actually going at it during rehearsal. The more stories Kurt told, the louder and harder Blaine laughed. Kurt noticed the people who passed near the pagoda paused or looked around, not seeming to realise Kurt and Blaine were there but not displaying the total ignorance of before; he fought down the tension and told Blaine another story.

But Kurt couldn't stall forever; eventually, Blaine asked him how he came back, and Kurt told him about visiting the hospital. Blaine's eyes welled with tears though none spilled over, and he pulled Kurt into a kiss, opening their mouths for the first time so their breaths mingled together, as if to say to Kurt, I'm here, I'm alive, I'm with you, I'm okay.

Like Kurt, he didn't know what to make of the woman who had basically attacked Kurt in the corridor, although he agreed it was probably her doing that sent Kurt back. "I think she said something about . . . we're all connected," Kurt said, frowning in concentration. "And something about heart – she hit my chest a lot and she was surprisingly strong. Honestly, I was a bit surprised by this random woman screaming in my face about a demon and then thinking about you to memorise what she said." He let out a frustrated growl and hit his head back against the barrier. Blaine gently rubbed his fingers against the spot and patiently waited for Kurt to continue. "Anyway, she got dragged off and probably sedated, Nick took me back to the paediatric ward, and then I just collapsed in the middle of a song and landed here. You basically know the rest."

Blaine shook his head, and then he moved his fingers round to stroke at the bite marks on Kurt's face. "I think you missed something out," he said gently but giving Kurt no room to escape, and he sighed in resignation and told him about the encounter with the thing in the forest. Blaine looked horrified, and then deeply disturbed.

"What . . . You said it looked sort of human?"

"I didn't really get a very good look at it – first it was attacking me and then it burst into dust like a cheap Whedon vampire," he reminded Blaine.

"What if – what if I would have turned into . . . ?" He trailed off and clutched at Kurt tightly.

"You could never," Kurt whispered, kissing the side of Blaine's face. It didn't look like Blaine believed him, but before Kurt could start telling Blaine how plain wonderful he was, Blaine said, "What did you do after that?"

Kurt shrugged minutely with the shoulder farther from Blaine. "Made my way to the castle, spent some time freaking out and feeling sorry for myself, and then I found you." He smiled, looking at Blaine slyly through his eyelashes. "And you know how the rest of it goes."

Blaine laughed a bit forcefully, but his smile was genuine. "I do."

"What happened to you?" Kurt asked. "When I . . . last woke up, we were by the Lake."

Blaine's brow furrowed and his eyes unfocused. "I don't really remember," he said slowly. "I don't really remember much for the last couple of weeks before Sectionals. I was just so tired all the time."

"Yeah," Kurt said soberly. He remembered vividly.

"I think I remember it getting darker, vaguely, but I don't know how I got from the Lake to, uh, here. And then . . ." He trailed off again and held Kurt's hand tighter again, his knuckles turning white as Kurt slowly began to lose feeling in his fingers.

"You're safe now," Kurt whispered, getting close enough to Blaine that his eyes were barely in focus. "You're safe now, and you're with me, and I'll scare off anything that comes near you."

Blaine startled a laugh and looked up to meet Kurt's eyes. "There was a voice," he said, his own voice holding only the barest hint of fear. God, Kurt loved this man so much. "It taunted me, tried to convince me my family and my friends didn't love me, that you wouldn't come for me. It was like every bad thought I'd ever had about myself. And sometimes – sometimes it – it made me burn—" He cut himself off with a choking sob and immediately Kurt threw an arm around him, pulled him into his chest and let him cry again.

God damn everything, why couldn't he just have got here sooner?!

Kurt inhaled sharply and jerked his gaze up, determined not to start crying, determined not to make Blaine's pain about himself. And he was met with an intimately familiar face: it was the same face that was in over half the photographs of Kurt's early childhood, that was above the Hummel-Hudson fireplace, right next to the photograph of Finn's deceased father.

"Mom?"

"Kurt?"

Kurt tore his eyes away from – but it couldn't be – but it had to be – his mother to look down at Blaine. His face was still wet but the tears had stopped a little while ago.

"I think—" He glanced up again. The woman who looked uncannily like his mom was still standing just on the other side of the water, but she had turned away slightly. "I think that's my mom."

"What?" Blaine whirled around, and it was barely two seconds before Kurt heard his gasp. "Kurt, she looks just like you."

"Why would she be here?" Kurt asked. "Oh, god, if this is the afterlife—"

"Kurt." Kurt stopped, but his breathing remained erratic and, oh god, he was starting to get dizzy. "Shit, Kurt, breathe." He was dimly aware of Blaine moving his hands so one was on Blaine's diaphragm and one was on his own. "Breathe with me, honey – in, out; in, out . . ."

Gradually, Kurt got his breathing back under control, and the black spots disappeared from his vision. And his mom was still there.

"Sh-should I go talk to her?" he asked. "Wait, Blaine, you were just—"

"I'm fine," Blaine interrupted, his eyes earnest and as if he hadn't just been sobbing into Kurt's blazer. "Kurt, that could be your mom."

Kurt nodded and looked back at her. "Can you come with me?" he said in a low voice.

"Of course I will."

Kurt shakily stood, and Blaine laced their fingers together.

The distance was only a few feet, but it seemed like miles and miles and miles; every step was a concerted effort, worry and fear and hope and despair and grief and guilt and love weighing him down like Atlas carrying the world. He could barely feel his fingers for gripping Blaine's hand so tightly, and the hairs on the back of his hand tingled with every comforting pass of his thumb. And the closer they got, the more time simultaneously sped up and froze; the closer they got, the more Kurt knew she was his mother; her eyes were like looking in a dirty mirror.

Forever passed in a blink, and Elizabeth was within reach. He could touch her, if he wanted to, for the first time in so long, so, so long – an entire decade, when Kurt was just a boy and an entirely different person.

Kurt cleared his throat and opened his mouth, but nothing came out. What could he say? Could she even see him? None of the other people – spirits? Souls? Kurt didn't even know what to think about anything anymore – had been able to perceive in sight or sound, and his mom's eyes were dim and unfocused, and Kurt, who could snap back at his bullies with wit beyond their intelligence even at his most terrified, Kurt couldn't think of a single thing to say.

Eventually, of course, it was Blaine who saved him once again. Ever so kind and gentle and understanding, he said, "Mrs Hummel?"

And the woman twitched, blinked slowly at Blaine. "Do I know you?" she asked, her voice thick and dull and the sweetest thing Kurt had ever heard.

Blaine shook his head. "No, ma'am. But I'm a friend of your son's." His grip shifted and Kurt felt his arm be moved, but then his mom looked at Kurt, really looked at him, and the speed of her blinks increased, her lines and colours grew sharper and clearer and brighter as if finally coming out of a fog, and Kurt forgot how to breathe.

"Mommy?" he said, his voice high and shaking with emotion.

Elizabeth Hummel examined his face with rapid, disbelieving flicks; she gasped as recognition dawned in her eyes, and suddenly Kurt was in her arms and she was in his and they were both crying. Blaine's hand was steady on his back and lavender perfume was strong in his nose, and Kurt just held on tight.

dear readers, I wish you all a very happy New Year – or, at the very least, that this next year for you holds more good in it than bad. Or, at the very very least, I hope you've all survived the holiday season. x