I really am super super sorry for how long this has taken me. It's really embarrassing. But I just had so much going on with my family and school and then writer's block... it was a mess. To make up for it, it's a long one! About twice as long as the last few chapters, I think.
This chapter (or, well, maybe the entire fic, actually) is dedicated to the lovely Megan (hazelgrace- -lancaster on tumblr), who puts up with my shit related to this fic, and whose birthday is today, March 31st. You should send her some love! :)
"Why do I even care what a hyperbola is?" Jeff asked, glaring down at his textbook.
Blaine looked up from his history notes and shrugged. "You don't, really, but they're actually pretty easy once you memorize the form—"
"But why do I need to memorize a formula for some curvy lines when I could be doing so many other things with my time?"
"You'd be done with it sooner if you didn't complain," Blaine pointed out.
"No," Jeff said, "I am going to complain. I am not going to complete any squares. I am going to make my mind heard."
"Good for you," he replied, looking back at his notes.
"Okay, fine. Maybe I'll do some algebra. I might even finish it. For you."
This resolve lasted for about five minutes.
"I actually hate algebra more than all other horrible things combined," Jeff sighed loudly, rolling over with a loud sigh. He forgot how close he was to the edge of his bed, however, and promptly landed on the floor.
Blaine glanced down at him. "Alright, pick: Nick gets shot, or you have to actually attend algebra every day."
"I would pull the trigger," Jeff said without hesitation. A moment later, he sat up and said, "Oh god, why? I mean, that's just awful."
"Killing Nick?" Blaine asked.
"Yeah! That is honestly terrible," he said. "Like now I'm thinking about it."
"Your imagination is a blessing and a curse," he replied, nodding in sympathy.
"But, like, Blaine, think about it," he said, frowning. "It's horrible."
He raised an eyebrow. "Is there something on your mind?" he asked, fighting to keep a smile off his lips. Jeff wasn't one to react so strongly to hypotheticals.
"No," Jeff said, "it's just… Well, imagine if Kurt died. Like, think about how much that would hurt." He hesitated, then said, "Not that my relationship with Nick is at all comparable to yours with Kurt, because I mean obviously we're just—you're just… I'm straight, you know?"
Blaine nodded slowly. "Okay, Jeff," he said.
"Nick's my best friend, is what I'm saying," he said.
"I know," Blaine said, looking at Jeff with a bemused expression, "You don't have to try to prove anything to me, though I'm really—"
He was cut off by the sound of a whimper coming from the bed. Blaine leaned back immediately, running his fingers through a sleeping Kurt's hair. "Hey, hey," he whispered.
"No," Kurt mumbled in his sleep, trying to turn although Blaine was lightly holding him down. "No, I have to… stop…"
"Baby, calm down," Blaine murmured, leaning down to whisper in Kurt's ear.
Jeff watched, unblinking, as Blaine calmed Kurt until he was once more completely relaxed against the pillow, unconsciously burrowing his face against his boyfriend's thigh.
"What was that?" Jeff asked.
Blaine shrugged. "I think…" he sighed, wringing his hands. "He's been having nightmares lately. I mean, he's always had a few nightmares, but they've been few and far between for the most part. But this is the third one this week."
Jeff frowned. He hadn't noticed anything before now. "Do you know what they're about?" he asked.
"Nope," Blaine said, shaking his head. His right hand was still absentmindedly playing with Kurt's hair. "He doesn't say anything about them when he wakes up, either. But last time, he... I'm pretty sure he was dreaming about his dad."
"Oh," Jeff said, nodding. A few seconds later, he blinked, his eyebrows raised. "Oh."
"Yeah," Blaine said, looking down. Quietly, he admitted, "I don't know what to do."
Jeff climbed back onto his bed, closing the offensive algebra textbook. "Well, have you talked to him about it?" he asked.
Blaine shook his head. "I don't know how to approach the issue," he said.
"Probably a good first step," Jeff said.
"He won't admit that anything's wrong, though," Blaine pointed out. "He still… have you noticed that Kurt still has some of his conditioning?"
"Hm?"
"You weren't there for the worst of it—he had a hard time wrapping his head around the idea that I didn't want him to call me master—but it's still there, a bit. The way he's still so cautious to disagree with me or how he'll always jump to do something for me," he said, sighing. "I try to tell myself that that's just him being, you know, my boyfriend, but I know."
Jeff blinked, frowning at Kurt's sleeping face. "I'd never noticed," he said. "Do you think he realizes?"
Blaine shrugged. "I sort of hope not, if that makes any sense," he said. "I mean, it's not like I want him to be unaware of the fact that he's still affected by what he went through in the facility, but it hurts to think that he knows and can't do anything about it and, what's worse, won't talk to me about it."
Jeff frowned, then shook his head. "I'm sure he'd tell you if—"
Blaine sighed, sounding somewhat exasperated. "That's the thing, though," he said, his eyes falling back to Kurt as his fingers traced through the feathers there. "I know he misses his dad, and worries about him. But he hasn't mentioned it since he first told me about his dad."
"Then ask him about it," he offered.
"I don't want to upset him," Blaine said. "And besides, he might not even tell me anything anyways, because he doesn't want to upset me."
Jeff sighed. "Well, you'll never know for sure if you don't ask," he said. "I mean, relationships are built on communication, right? Just look at me and Nick. Once again, not really the same thing, but—"
Blaine chuckled. "You're getting less and less subtle, Jeff," he commented. He turned to lay perpendicular to the bed on his stomach, his elbows on Kurt's back with his chin in his hands.
"W-what are you talking about?" he asked, frowning.
"You can't try and tell me you're not in love with Nick," he said.
"Okay, I get that we're a bit more handsy than most platoni—"
"That's not it, really, Jeff, it's just the way—"
"We don't finish each other's sentences because we're in love; it's just that if one of us knows where the other is going, it's pret—"
"Still not the point, Jeff."
"Okay, you know, just because you had sex does not mean you are, like, the Love Messiah or something," Jeff said, pouting slightly.
Blaine paused, blushed, and then started laughing. "Okay, no, that is also definitely, definitely not the point," he said. "What is the point is that… you realize that, even though I joke around, you are one of my best friends?"
Jeff nodded. "There is a reason we decided to live together after they made me and Nick live in separate rooms," he pointed out.
"Exactly," Blaine said, gesturing to Jeff with his hand. "And best friends can tell things about each other. Including when your best friend has feelings for one of your other best friends."
Jeff sighed. "Okay, fine, maybe," he conceded. "I'm still trying to figure out what exactly this whole thing is."
"What do you mean?"
"I've always thought I was straight, you know?" he said. "And obviously Nick isn't a girl."
"Well, does that bother you?" Blaine asked, sitting up on his elbows.
"No, I… no. It's just… I want to be sure before I say anything. What if I just think I have feelings for him because I've never had a friend quite like him before and just because he is gay and it's always been a thing that could happen—"
"Jeff, Jeff, Jeff," he said, trying to cut off the rambling blonde. "That's fine." After a moment, he added, "Just so you know, though, you guys would be totally cute together. I know, because you already are."
Jeff snorted. "Calm down there, O Short One," he said. "You're getting carried away there."
"Sure," Blaine said.
"I'm just going to work on this algebra, then," Jeff said, glaring at the book.
"Sounds good," Blaine agreed, humming a little as he turned his body parallel to Kurt's again.
"You should stop it with that 'I-know-something-you-don't-know' perky Blaine thing," Jeff said.
"Is that a thing?" he asked.
"It is," he affirmed. "I know, because we're best friends."
The Warblers were seated around the lounge, some making light conversation or playing cards, but for the most part seeming to be waiting for something to happen. What exactly that something was, they weren't sure. Hopefully food, though, as every few minutes someone would loudly announce that they were hungry.
"Got any sixes?" Thad asked, looking at Wes.
"Do I have a six?" Wes glanced at his cards, and shook his head. "Nope," he said, the 'p' popping. "Go—"
"Bullshit!" He reached over and pulled Wes' hand down to look at his cards, plucking a six from between his fingers.
"How did you know that?" Wes asked.
"Elementary, my dear Weston," he said. "You—"
"Holmes never actually said that," David pointed out.
"Well, that's really great," Thad said. "But as I was saying, you repeated the question back to me. That's the mark of a lie. Also, the way you said 'nope'. It's one of your tells, Wesley."
He rolled his eyes. "You watched Lie to Me way too much," he said.
"There is no such thing as too much Lie to Me," he said, shaking his head. "Regardless, you're no Jeff when it comes to lying."
Jeff perked up from his lounging position on the couch, leaning forward between Thad and David. "Did someone say my name?"
"You were right there, I am sure you heard me," he said.
He raised his eyebrows, looking over at Nick. "Is he sassing me? I know Thad is not sassing me."
"I believe he is sassing you," Nick affirmed, shaking his head in disapproval.
"I will not stand for this, even if you did compliment my lying skills," Jeff said, standing up.
"God fucking dammit, Jeff!" Nick said, gesturing at the fact that Jeff was, in fact, standing.
"I told you you heard me," Thad commented.
Jeff ignored him, instead grinning at Nick, whose hands were still poised in midair. "I agree, Nick, my rear is cause for cursing."
Nick blinked, clearly flustered. "I—that is— Jeff."
At that moment, Trent decided to have mercy on Nick and announced, "I'm hungry."
Jeff pointed at Trent. "Yes. This is good," he said.
He furrowed his brows. "Are you saying it's good that I have the potential to starve to death?" he asked, clearly working at keeping a straight face as he said it.
Jeff snorted. "We are going to a buffet," he said. "You, me, and Nick, and anyone else who wants to come?"
As he looked around the room, there were various forms of rejection. Some boys quietly shook their heads or averted their gazes, while Flint's eyes got wide and he slammed his hands down on the table. Kurt looked confused and sat up a bit, and Blaine gently set a hand on his shoulder and shook his head, mouthing, "no."
Jeff slapped his hand to his chest, scoffing indignantly. "Well, I never!" he said, affecting what might have been the accent of a southern Belle.
Trent stood up from the couch he was seated on, looking back when Flint tugged on his sleeve and asked, "Do you know what you're getting into?"
"We're really not that bad," Nick said. "Trust us."
"I'm willing to take some risks here," Trent said.
"Atta boy!" Nick said, clapping him on the shoulder.
"If I don't come back, call, or text within three hours, call the cops," Trent said, "all of you."
"God, Trent, you make it sound like we're dangerous," Jeff said.
"We're not, really," Nick said, "I promise."
Trent sighed. "Remember when you guys almost got into a fight with a Mormon at that bar last year?"
Jeff snorted. "That was all Nick," he said.
"And no one actually got hurt in the end," Nick pointed out, rubbing the back of his neck nervously.
"Thanks to me," Trent said, looking pleased with himself.
"Yeah, see? We'd be lost without you!" Jeff said brightly.
"Sure, sure," he said, "Just take me to lunch."
Stepping into the buffet, there was an undeniable aroma.
"Why does it smell like vomit?" Trent asked into Nick's ear as Jeff spoke to the hostess.
He shrugged. "It always does, though," he said.
He raised his eyebrows. "Seriously?"
Nick nodded in affirmation.
"Why do you still go here if it always smells like this?"
"The food's good," he said, following the hostess to their table and tugging Trent along with him.
Trent sat down across from Nick and Jeff, sighing. Once the hostess had taken their drink orders and wandered off, he said, "It had better be good. Because that smell is really offputting."
"Hey, now," Jeff said, "it really only smells like that in the lobby. Seriously. Sniff."
Trent obeyed, lifting his head up like a dog to smell the air. "Huh. That is weird."
He nodded. "Not arguing that," he said, standing up. He pointed with his thumb over his shoulder. "Anyways, buffet."
Nick made an excited noise in agreement, and eagerly followed Jeff to the buffet tables
Once they all got back to the table with their food, they sat for a few minutes without conversation, the only sounds the chatter of the tables around them.
"Alright, I admit it," Trent said, "this is pretty good, all questionable aromas aside."
"Right?" Nick agreed through a mouthful of mashed potatoes. He swallowed, then added, "Nothing like good ole American food in vast quantities."
Jeff clicked his tongue. "Speaking of vast quantities, are you seeing what I'm seeing?" he asked
Nick furrowed his brow. "That woman over there? I'd just say vast, since there is only one of her…"
"No, no, the poster," he said, pointing. On the wall there was a sign hanging that read, 'Homemade Rolls: $3.49 a dozen!'
"Wait, are they serious?" Nick asked. "I mean, they're good, but why?"
"I could eat twelve just sitting here," Jeff pointed out.
"And you just get them off the buffet," he said, frowning. "Without any special payment or anything."
"It's probably to go," Trent pointed out.
"Well, yeah, sure, but free if you pay to get in, and then you can get all kinds of food plus twelve rolls," Jeff pointed out. "And let's just say that if you were to bring in large purses, then you could just stick them in there and wham! To go!"
"Or you could get to go boxes instead of putting buttery rolls into your purse," Trent said. "I feel like that would be less gross and draw less attention."
"I will carry a purse if I want to, gosh," Nick commented.
Jeff snorted. "Besides, that's not nearly sneaky enough," he said. "But maybe you could have a combination. Some people in your group bring purses, some get to go boxes… it could work."
"Four people get three rolls each," Nick suggested.
"Three get four?" Jeff proposed.
"It could work. Twelve get one?"
"No, no, too big a group. It's suspicious, and besides, there'll be too many people to share with."
"True, true. Or or or, one person gets twelve rolls!"
Jeff burst into laughter. "Good," he said, "this is the best idea yet, Nick. I think it will work!"
"Oh my God, you guys seriously are insane," Trent said, rubbing his temples.
"We are just trying to think of a better way to handle this roll situation," Nick said, shrugging.
Jeff nodded, looking pensive. "Okay, got it," he said, lifting his index finger, "we shouldn't have everyone take the same number of rolls. It's suspicious."
Nick snapped. "You're a genius! Someone could take three; someone else could take two, and so on!"
"Precisely!" Jeff said, grinning. "No one would think anything of it."
"Brilliant!" he said. "Or, alternatively, we could just stay here. You know, live here. Sleep on these booths. We could just hang out, eat all the rolls we wanted to; it'd be great."
Both Trent and Jeff commented on this idea at the same time:
"I can see it now: Excuse me, sir, we seated you here three weeks ago… you need to leave."
"I am in love with your mind."
Nick glared overdramatically at Trent. "Someone here appreciates me."
Trent sighed, standing up. "I'm just going to go get some more food and hopefully when I get back, you guys will have found some other thing to set your mind to. Maybe something less ridiculous."
When he got back, however, they had not moved on. Instead, they had a plan.
"Okay, Trent, listen," Jeff said, reaching over and grabbing Trent's hand on top of the table with both of his hands. "Remember that time you saved us? That proves something: the three of us would make a great team. And we have a plan. We're the brains, and you need to be the brawn."
Trent blinked nervously. "What exactly is this plan?"
Jeff grinned. "Allow me to explain," he said. "We realized that we shouldn't have to limit ourselves to twelve rolls just because the sign says twelve. In theory, we could have as many rolls as we wanted to. So we decided to steal the tray."
"What? Why?" Trent asked.
"We're young and mischievous," he said. Patting Trent's hand, he added, "We are teenage boys—we're supposed to do stupid stuff, and everyone seems to forget that!"
Trent seemed to consider this for a second. "What would I have to do?" he asked.
"Simple," Nick said, finally looking up from Jeff and Trent's joined hands. "Just stand by the light switch and turn it off when we send you the signal. Stand there stubbornly. That's it. We'll do the hard part."
"Is there seriously one light switch for the entire restaurant?"
Jeff nodded. "Discovered it one of the first few times we were here. The whole place is completely black if you turn it off," he elaborated. "Luckily for us, Nick and I know the layout of this place like the back of our hands. Just get to the light switch and we'll get to the table, and when we send you the signal, turn off the light. Wait about a minute, make sure no one turns the lights back on, and then book it. Simple."
He still looked a bit concerned. "What is in it for me?"
"Two things," Nick said. "One: a fun, fantastic story, two: rolls."
"So… are you in?" Jeff asked. "We really would appreciate it."
Trent sighed, then nodded. "Okay, fine," he said, though his face said that he was slightly regretting it already.
"Don't even worry," Jeff said, standing up and gesturing for Nick to follow. "We are experts."
"Sure," Trent said, shifting nervously from one foot to the other. "Let's just get this over with."
They walked up to the buffet tables as a group, as nonchalantly as is possible when one member of your party is fidgeting nervously. Once they reached the steaming rows of food, Nick pointed towards the corner. "Look right over there," he instructed, glancing askance towards where he was pointing. "There's your light switch. Get in position."
He hesitated. "You said you'd give a signal," he said, "so what's the signal?"
Jeff considered this for a second, then said, "Umm, I could—"
"I'll pretend to sneeze!" Nick said excitedly.
Jeff nodded, smiling. "And everyone says it's a useless talent."
Trent nodded and turned to get into his place as Nick said, "It isn't. It really isn't."
And so Nick and Jeff went to stand by the rolls, waiting until the middle-aged worker moved away from the counter to replace some tray of food to make their move.
"One question," Jeff said quietly, "do you want to grab it, or should I?"
"Would you do the honors?" Nick replied. "It was your idea, after all. And I'll be busy sneezing."
Jeff nodded, a wide grin breaking out across his face. "Don't mind if I do." He paused, glancing around, and then whispered, "Go time?"
Nick nodded, then brought his hand up to his face and made what any casual observer would just assume was a normal sneeze, watching as Jeff's hands gravitated towards the silver tray the rolls laid on as the lights went out.
In the middle of the cacophony of panicked cries and gasps of surprise, he heard Jeff whisper again, "Go time." Just like that, they were running between tables to get out of the buffet as quickly as possible, tripping over chairs and tables and possibly people and almost definitely losing a few rolls in the process.
Nick half expected someone to chase them once they got outside and, of course, into the light, but it seemed that no one had noticed amidst the chaos after Trent flicked the lights off.
In a rush to make sure they weren't caught regardless of whether or not they were being pursued, Nick threw open the back door of the car to let Jeff in. Both boys tumbled in, somehow managing to keep the rolls on the tray.
Jeff had the presence of mind to put the rolls on the floor before completely flopping across the backseat, laughing. Nick closed the car door and collapsed on top of Jeff, the blonde's heartbeat pounding like a drum from the excitement that came with stealing a bunch of rolls from a buffet.
He wasn't entirely sure how soon after they got in the car Trent arrived, but it couldn't be long.
"Did anyone notice the rolls?" Jeff asked in between gasps of laughter.
"Don't think so," Trent said. "Though I imagine they'll notice the tray missing sooner or later."
"Souvenir," Nick replied easily. "Now step on it!"
Trent obeyed, bringing the car to life and pulling out of the parking space as quickly as was safe and possible.
"Say," Trent said, "Could you pass me a roll?"
"This is nice," Kurt said softly, humming against Blaine's shoulder.
A few minutes earlier, Blaine had come up to their room, still in his blazer and tie but also sporting a slightly ridiculous top hat, and led Kurt down to the commons, where he had dimmed the lights, put on some music, and asked Kurt to dance.
"I'm glad you like it," Blaine said, turning his head to kiss Kurt's hair.
"Is there a reason you're doing this?" Kurt asked.
Because I love you, and I want to be able to remember this forever.
I want your last memories of me to be good ones.
I wanted to say goodbye.
Instead of saying any of the things that immediately came to mind, Blaine just grinned and said, "What? I can't just do something for the boy I'm head over heels for?"
He could feel Kurt smiling into his shoulder. "Of course you can," he said, "I just thought there might have been some occasion."
Just the beginning of the end, darling.
"Just trying to be the best boyfriend I can," he said.
Kurt chuckled. "You've already surpassed that goal," he said.
"Oh, Kurt, I'm blushing," he said, grinning.
Kurt lifted his head then, tightening his arms around Blaine as they moved across the floor and pressing their lips together. "I love you," he said, in that same way that he always used that sounded so casual but made Blaine's heart beat a hundred times faster.
Blaine peppered kisses over Kurt's face—starting by getting on his toes and kissing his forehead, trailing across an eyebrow and over an eyelid, at the tip of his nose, and finally landing on his mouth. "You're the greatest thing to ever happen to me, you know that?" he said.
Kurt exhaled in what was almost a laugh, his breath tickling Blaine's cheek. "That can't be true," he said.
"Shhh, Kurt, don't," Blaine said, shaking his head just slightly, his nose dragging on Kurt's face, "don't ruin this. Just let me love you." Because this is our last moment together, just us.
Kurt smiled. "Always will," he said softly in reply.
And that was all Blaine could take. He closed his eyes, feeling that familiar sting from tears, and willing them to not fall. He couldn't cry. If he cried, Kurt might cry, too, because that's just what they did and he wouldn't be able to handle it.
His hands moved up and down Kurt's back as he guided them around the room in what was only slightly dancing and more like mobile hugging with a soundtrack.
"Blaine?" Kurt asked, and Blaine forced himself to risk letting tears fall and opened his eyes, leaning back and looking directly into Kurt's blue-green eyes (this was probably not his greatest idea, because there was so much love and care and just a bit of worry in those eyes and how on Earth was he going to say goodbye?).
"Hm?" He didn't completely trust himself to form words.
"Is everything okay?" Kurt asked, frowning slightly.
Blaine smiled. "Of c-course I am," he said, his voice cracking slightly on the word 'course' and he just hoped that Kurt didn't notice, "why wouldn't I be?"
Kurt sighed, tensing as he searched Blaine's face. "Please don't lie to me," he said. "I… please just tell me what's bothering you."
And that was it: the dam broke and the first tears flowed down his cheeks, followed by more and he couldn't stop himself. He brought his hands up to his face, brushing away the tears. "Nothing's bothering me," he said, his voice sounding far too whiny and vulnerable and broken to be anything resembling convincing. "And I'm not crying."
Blaine's vision was blurred as Kurt's expression grew more confused and upset, tears of his own forming in his eyes. "Blaine, honey, what's wrong?" he asked, lifting a hand to Blaine's face and rubbing away tear tracks with his thumb. "Did I do something wrong? Are you okay?" As he spoke, Blaine only cried harder, as much as he tried to stop. "Baby, you need to tell me what's wrong."
"I-I can't," he said. You can't know. You'll stop me even though it's what's best.
"Why not?" Kurt asked.
"I just… I swear I'll tell you later if you just let it go for now," Blaine said, managing to keep his voice from shaking.
Kurt hesitated. "Promise?" he asked, leaning his forehead against Blaine's and kissing his cheek.
"I promise," he whispered in reply, tilting his head and meeting Kurt's lips with his own.
He seemed to consider this for a second, then nodded. He wiped his own eyes, and then smiled at Blaine. "Spin me?"
Blaine laughs and complies, lifting Kurt's arm and spinning him. It's awkward, since Kurt is a bit taller and his wings are even higher than his head, but it was the sort of awkward that eased tension and was easily laughed off.
He held onto the sound of Kurt's laugh, doing whatever he could to keep Kurt laughing. It would be easier to say goodbye if he just laughed a little harder and smiled a little brighter. It would be easier for Kurt to forget him if he was just something that had made him happy for a while.
As they danced—really danced this time—Blaine couldn't help but watch Kurt's wings, fluttering ever so slightly as he moved. It was those wings, those beautiful, awful wings, that made everything so difficult. He didn't want to use the word "normal," but if Kurt had been… if Kurt hadn't had wings, his whole life would have been so much easier. Kurt would have never had to be apart from his father; he'd be happier.
But then, if Kurt had stayed with his father, would they have ever met?
As much as he'd like to picture a world in which he and Kurt had somehow met, probably through school or Warblers, or maybe even later on, in college, he knew it wasn't entirely realistic. He didn't know much of anything about where Kurt had come from, but chances were that, while it was in Ohio (that much was confirmed on the papers that declared Kurt his property), it was probably as far from Westerville as possible.
No, chances were that he and Kurt would have lived entirely separate lives, completely unaware of the other. Kurt would have been free, and probably happy. He'd be with his family—his father, at least, but maybe his father would remarry—and he'd have friends that were his friends and, most important, he'd have no idea what life was like in the facilities, and he'd have no idea what life was like when you were in love with Blaine Anderson.
Blaine laughed a little bit as Kurt spun him and told him to stop worrying about whatever it was that was going on in his head. And he did, deciding that fate or God or the Red String or whatever else (ever since he'd met Kurt, he couldn't help but wonder what exactly was ruling their lives, if anything) would have brought them together anyways.
A few days had passed, full of research as Kurt slept or watched TV and erased browser history—he could not have Kurt find out that he planned on bringing him back to his father and wherever he had come from.
And then, just like that, he knew exactly where he had to go, and knew that if he put it off any longer, he would wimp out and not do it. About ninety miles from Dalton, there was a house and a tire shop and a man that owned both, all with a Kurt-shaped void.
Part of him had quietly hoped that he wouldn't be able to find anything. He would have looked online with the best intentions, but it was just no use. After all, how easy could it be to find a widower with an off-the-books son in all of Ohio?
As it turned out it was remarkably easy. He had pieced together what he knew about Kurt's old home from things he had told him over the months ("He was great with cars. I would sit in his shop for hours, watching him work. He would even explain things to me, too.") to paint a fuller picture of who Kurt's father was.
From there, he had found Hummel Tire and Lube in Lima, Ohio, owned by Burt Hummel. There weren't many pictures to be found of him, but he looked enough like Kurt that he had to agree with his gut feel that this man was Kurt's father (and Blaine may have been imagining it, but he could have sworn there was a sadness in that face, the kind one got from losing both their wife and child).
The beginning of the ride was innocuous enough. He'd woken Kurt up, told him to get showered and dressed because there was somewhere they were going today. It was almost as if he was back in the beginning of their relationship, nervously waking Kurt up to go on an adventure. Book ends, he supposed.
Just like in the early days of their relationship, Kurt asked where they were going.
"Seriously, Kurt?" Blaine asked, doing his best to sound irritated in spite of the growing dread seated firmly in his belly, and, of course, the warmth and tenderness he always felt around Kurt. There was also a sort of nostalgia there, he realized, for something that had not officially ended yet.
"I will win, one of these days," Kurt said. "I swear."
"Definitely not," Blaine said. "You don't know how stubborn I am."
Kurt snorted. "I think I do," he said. "I've only lived with you for months."
Blaine laughed. "That doesn't mean you know me," he said.
"True, true," Kurt said, "But other things do. Like the fact that I'm in love with you, and you me. I'm pretty sure I know you inside and out." This statement was punctuated with a wink that made Blaine blush. With a slightly shy smile, he added meekly, "Which reminds me, last night was lovely."
Blaine blushed. Last night had not been the first time that Kurt had bottomed (in the time since they had crossed that boundary they had switched off multiple times), but Blaine had tried to put every little bit of his love and care into it, kissing every inch of Kurt's skin that he could. Each kiss was goodbye, farewell, arrivederci, auf wiedersehen, adios, adieu… asante.
Kurt hadn't known, of course. He didn't know why each kiss was longer, sweeter; why each touch was soft and careful, as if he might break; why Blaine's eyes were so intent on his, watching him with admiration. It was just Blaine to him, just 'lovely'. It was good, Blaine decided, that Kurt didn't notice. Another fond memory.
Kurt sighed, kicking his feet up on the dashboard.
"If we get in a crash, you'll just snap," Blaine pointed out.
He hummed a little bit. "Shows how much I trust in your driving ability, huh?" he said.
Blaine smiled. "It's like you like me or something," he said.
"Don't get carried away," Kurt said, clicking his tongue. "Trust has nothing to do with like."
"Does it have anything to do with love?" Blaine asked, glancing out of the corner of his eye at Kurt with a grin.
"I see what you're doing over there, Anderson," Kurt said.
For a split second, Blaine's heart thudded. But then he realized that there wasn't any way that Kurt could actually know where they were going or what he was doing in the big picture: no, he was bantering, like they always do. Slipping a smooth smile back on, he said innocently, "And whatever is that?"
"You're trying to get me to profess my undying love for you again," he said. "And I'm not falling for it."
"You say that like it's a bad thing."
"It's awful," Kurt said. "I could have at least played hard to get."
"You think you didn't?"
"To be fair, pretty much as soon as I realized what I was feeling, we were together," he pointed out. "And half the time you were trying to win me over I didn't even know you, so."
Blaine sighed, and then said, "I guess I'd call that fair."
"It is," Kurt said.
"But, just so you know, if we ever break up, you are so working at it to win me back," Blaine said.
Kurt held up two fingers. "Two things," he said. "One: you say that as if you could ever play hard to get. There is just no way. Two: don't even say that. We are never breaking up. We love each other way too much—or I love you too much, at least—and I have no idea what I would do without you. I wouldn't have any idea how to handle myself."
To Blaine's credit, he didn't cry. "I love you, too," was all he could think to say.
Kurt didn't say anything in reply, just reached over and grabbed Blaine's hand and entwined them on top of the center console and turned on the radio with his free hand. He sang along to the songs he knew and verbalized to the tune of the ones he didn't. Blaine couldn't bring himself to look over, because just hearing Kurt made him feel like he was falling in love with him all over again and he'd second guess himself again if he looked.
Blaine's nerves only increased as they got closer to Lima, to the point that his hands were shaking on the steering wheel when he took the exit. Once he was driving through the town, he couldn't help but sneak glances out of the corner of his eye at Kurt, trying to gauge his reactions.
He was looking around, a confused look on his face, as if someone had told him a riddle and he was working out the answer. No doubt, part of him recognized this place; how could he not? It was where he had grown up, for God's sake.
And then, finally, his eyebrows shot up, and he said, a hint of a warning in his voice. "Blaine."
Blaine took a deep breath. "Kurt."
"Blaine, this is illegal. This is very illegal."
"No, it's not," Blaine said. "Nowhere does it say that pets aren't allowed to visit their childhood homes. If it was, you'd have been sold far, far away from here. It's more… frowned upon. But no one has to know. I mean, I could just be taking you on a day trip that just so happens to be, purely coincidentally, where you grew up." He hadn't lied yet, really. He hadn't said that it was a day trip, which it wasn't, for Kurt, at least.
"How did you even do this?" Kurt asked, staring out the windows at the buildings on the sides of the streets as they passed.
"Through a lot of research," he said. After a moment he added, "A lot of research."
"But why are we here?" he asked as they pulled to a stop at a red light.
Blaine hesitated, frowning and very definitely not meeting Kurt's gaze. "You… you know exactly why we're here, Kurt."
"My dad?"
"Your dad."
"But… why?" Kurt asked. "I was fine without—"
"Stop right there," Blaine said. "You were having nightmares."
Kurt opened his mouth to reply, then snapped it shut again. After a moment, he asked, "How do you know that?"
"You talk in your sleep," he said. "And you said something about your dad. I knew you needed to see him, Kurt," he added, shrugging.
Kurt blinked. He grinned and brought his hand up to his mouth, pulling it away and bringing it back a few times, like he was trying to figure out what exactly to say but was too excited or flustered to form words. Finally, he asked, "Is this why you've been acting strange all week?"
Blaine's heart clenched again. "It is," he affirmed. Still technically not lying.
"God," Kurt said, his hand almost finding its way back to his lips. "I just… I can't believe you actually… you're so amazing. I love you so much."
Blaine smiled. Even though the fact that he knew he was going to have to part ways with Kurt was breaking his heart, it still gave him a warm feeling to see Kurt so happy, especially because of something he had done. "Anything for my best beloved," he said.
Kurt was staring out the windows excitedly, reminding Blaine somewhat of a dog on a road trip, if only he was sticking his head out the window.
An odd sense of calm washed over Blaine as he pulled into the parking lot of Hummel Tire and Lube. It wasn't going to be easy; he hadn't allowed himself to pretend it would be. Kurt's father would be pleased to see his son again; there was no doubt about that in his mind. But there was also the fact that Kurt had been abducted at the age of nine to essentially become a sex toy, and Blaine had bought him, and there was no getting around that. That sort of situation was not particularly conducive to making friends.
He turned the car off, then looked over at Kurt. "Are you ready for this?"
Kurt looked a bit nervous, then nodded and opened his car door. "This is…" he took a shaky breath. His eyes were wide as he turned to Blaine and asked, panicked, "What if he doesn't remember me?"
It was almost amusing. "Seriously, Kurt? You're his son. Now, I don't know much about being a father, or having a father, really, but I don't think that that's something you just forget."
Kurt nodded. "Of course," he said, smiling nervously. "It's just, this is huge, you know? It's like I'm meeting him for the first time, you know? I'm nervous."
"Don't be," Blaine said. "He's going to love you. He still loves you, actually. That's not really something that goes away."
Kurt smiled, reaching for Blaine's hand as they walked towards the door.
Heart beating so fast that he was sure Kurt could hear it, Blaine led them inside and looked around. "Hello?"
"Be with you in a second!" a voice called out, and Kurt visibly perked up, having recognized the voice. This is it, Blaine thought, this has to be him.
It was, indeed. The face that Blaine had seen on the computer, labeled Burt Hummel, appeared from behind a car, saying, "So, how can I help you—" His sentence trailed off when he caught sight of Kurt. His eyebrows raised and he blinked repeatedly, as if he couldn't believe his eyes; that he was just imagining this. "Kurt."
Blaine looked at Kurt to find that his boyfriend's eyes were swimming already, his face covered in one of those grins that you hardly had control over. "Dad," he said, his voice cracking on that single syllable, and rushed forward to hug Burt. He was quickly enveloped by his father's arms.
"You've grown so much."
"I've missed you so much."
"I was so worried about you."
"I'm okay, Dad. I'm okay. We're okay."
Both men were crying, and part of Blaine wanted to turn away because it felt too private. And, really, Kurt and his father seemed to only be aware of each other in that moment; it would have been all too easy for Blaine to just slip away there and there.
He was about to turn to leave when Burt pulled back from his son, murmuring a question of how Kurt had managed this, and then turned abruptly, as if suddenly realizing that Kurt had not come in alone.
Burt looked at Blaine, and just like that, it was like a switch had been flipped inside of the man. His expression grew fierce, and though Blaine had prepared himself to expect the worst, there was a difference between thinking about being in a scary situation and actually being in a scary situation.
Blaine opened his mouth and then closed it again, not sure exactly what to say. There were a million things that he needed to say then, but he couldn't find the words for any of them. "I didn't rape your son"? That would go over well. So instead, of course, he just did his best impression of a fish.
"Did you pay for my son?" Burt asked, giving him a look that just dared him to say something inappropriate.
It was probably that look that made Blaine oddly tempted to make a comment about how technically, he had not paid for Kurt but his father had, but this was neither the time nor the place. "Well, sir, yes, but—"
Suddenly Blaine found his back against the wall, with Kurt's father dangerously close and looking ready to punch him if need be. Blaine completely understood where he was coming from, but it was still a terrifying position to be in.
"Dad, please don't." Kurt attempted, but they all knew that Burt was going to interrogate Blaine regardless.
"P-please, sir, hear me out," he said, holding up his hands. "I'm not a bad guy, I swear. I understand that you probably assume the worst about me, given what you know about me right now, but I honestly truly care for Kurt and his happiness." He hesitated, then pointed out, "I brought him back to you, didn't I?"
He hesitated, weighing this. He backed down slightly, but did not fully relax. Blaine felt like he could finally breathe again, though he was still, admittedly, a bit terrified. "Now, I'm not really comfortable with asking this, but I have to," he said. "Have you forced yourself on my son?"
Blaine's cheeks flushed and he shook his head quickly. "I would never!"
Kurt stepped forward then, setting his hand on his father's shoulder. "Please stop harassing my—" There was a pause there, where Blaine could just see him thinking about what he was about to say and how his father would react. After all, Blaine realized with a jolt, if Kurt explicitly stated the nature of their relationship, he would be coming out. He apparently came to the decision that it was worthwhile and said, "Boyfriend."
Burt's eyebrows raised once again, and he took a step back. He pulled out a chair, gesturing for Kurt to take a seat. "Sit right there," he said, "I'll be right back. I just need to have a conversation with…"
"Blaine, sir," he said, "Blaine Anderson."
As Blaine was led off by Burt, he cast a nervous glance but at Kurt and received a mouthed 'I love you' and apologetic look.
Burt led him to a small office, where he gestured for Blaine to take a seat.
"Now, Blaine, tell me about yourself," he said.
He shifted nervously in his seat. "Um… Like I said, my name is Blaine Anderson. I attend Dalton Academy, and I am the lead soloist for their show choir, the Warblers."
Burt nodded slowly. "And you decided to buy yourself a boyfriend?"
Blaine stuttered. "No, it's not like that at all."
"I'm just a bit confused about why you got Kurt."
He frowned. Why had he gotten Kurt? Why had he wanted a pet? Had he wanted a pet? There was no real reason for him to want that, but part of him had. He'd never had any interest in one for their typical purposes, and it wasn't like he was hurting for friends to the extent that he would feel the need to purchase one. Maybe fate had laid a hand; God or the stars or whatever else had made the decision to throw Kurt into Blaine's path, and pushed him down that path just in case. "Honestly, sir?" he said. "I don't know either. I had no intention of forcing myself on him, and no expectation of falling in love with him."
"You love him?" he asked, sounding a bit surprised.
"Completely," Blaine said. And forever, he added silently. He rubbed the back of his neck nervously as he looked at Burt, waiting for any reaction.
"Good," he said. "Like I already told you, I don't want to have to ask this, but have you done anything with him?"
It took Blaine a moment to realize what the implication of Burt's question was. "Oh." The floor tiles suddenly became extremely interesting. "We have." When Burt didn't say anything, he added, "I swear, though, I didn't use him or whatever other awful things you probably think I did—which I completely understand, sir, but… I just want you to know, he gave his full consent. It was his idea, actually. Not that you needed to know that. I am so sorry." He looked back up at Burt, hoping the 'don't hurt me' wasn't too obvious on his face.
To his surprise, Burt looked a bit amused. "So, how'd you fall in love with Kurt?"
"Honest answer?" Blaine asked, biting his cheeks to keep himself from grinning. "I looked at him."
Burt's smile was almost fond. "Well, we should probably get back to him," he said. "Wouldn't want him getting too worried about you."
Blaine stood up, biting his lip. "Um, don't mention this to Kurt, but I'm… he belongs with you, you know? So I think he should stay here, with you. He doesn't know."
"Why not?" he asked.
"Because… they—they mess with their heads. I mean, there were, like, eight or nine years between when he was found and when he was sold, right? They were conditioning him then, I think. He's gotten so much better since I first met him, but he still… I think that some part of him feels like he needs to stay with me because I paid for him." He looked down at his hands. "And as much as I'd like to keep him with me, I know it'd be better for him to be with his father."
Burt looked solemn for a moment, then reached out and squeezed Blaine's shoulder. "You're a good kid."
Blaine raised his eyebrows. "Really?" he asked. "I… I guess I assumed you wouldn't like me."
Burt led them out of the room, saying, "That's part of how I knew you were a good kid."
Somehow, they ended up back at Burt's house, eating lunch with his wife and stepson (Carole and Finn, respectively). Blaine had not intended to stay for long, but he had also hoped to slip away when Kurt wasn't aware, so that his absence would be something noted after the fact; so that it might be less painful.
The trouble was, of course, there had never been a good time.
At the moment, Finn was eyeing Kurt from across the table, more curious or nervous than anything else. He certainly wasn't hostile. Blaine realized that Finn had probably not seen anyone with wings in person, and if he had, it was most likely just in passing.
"Do you get tired?" Finn asked.
Kurt looked up from his plate. "What?"
"Like, your wings. They look super heavy," he said. "Do you ever get tired of carrying them around?"
Kurt shrugged. "I'm used to it," he said. "It's kind of like asking you if you get tired of carrying your arms around."
Finn furrowed his brow, his arms falling limply to his sides, as if he were imagining simply dropping them and carrying on with his day. "Huh," he said. "Weird." He wiggled his arms a bit, and then asked, "If you could get rid of your wings, would you?"
"Finn," Carole said, "don't be rude."
"It's fine," Kurt said, raising his hand and gesturing as if physically brushing it away. Blaine couldn't help but admire him for it; Finn didn't mean to make Kurt uncomfortable, but he was certainly making it a bit awkward. Looking at Finn, Kurt added, "No, I don't think I would. I mean, they're a part of me, you know?"
"But doesn't having them make your life hard?"
Kurt smiled meekly, and took Blaine's hand as he said, "Well, I think it worked out."
Blaine blinked nervously as the attention of the table was brought back to him; he had nearly forgotten that he was there at the table with them, and not just an onlooker or spectator. Glancing up towards Burt and Carole, he saw that neither of them looked upset or anything; that was good. There was a bit of apprehension in Carole's eyes, though, but he supposed that couldn't be helped. There weren't very many gay couples just wandering around in Ohio, especially not when one of the boys had wings, and almost never did you have such a couple sitting in your dining room.
Finn blinked, looking like he wanted to say something, but instead just went back to eating his food. He was trying, Blaine realized, but there were only so many strange, new things you could adapt to at a time.
Blaine looked back at Kurt, still holding his hand gently on the top of the table and picking at his lunch with his free hand. If he noticed the slightly awkward air, he didn't show it at all. There was still that smile on his face, like nothing could bring him down because everything was right in the world: here he was, sitting down at lunch with his father; the same man he'd been torn from at nine years old, the same man he'd been worrying about ever since.
He felt a pang in his chest then, seeing how happy Kurt looked. This was turning out about as good as he could have hoped it would, he knew, but in theory and in practice were two entirely different things. He stood up from the table slowly, saying, "If you'll excuse me, I need to use the restroom."
Carole smiled politely and pointed him in the direction of the bathroom.
He walked in and shut the door behind himself, sitting down heavily on the toilet seat. This was the hardest part. He knew it would be, but some part of him had clung onto the hope that he wouldn't have to say goodbye. Or rather, he wouldn't have to leave Kurt behind. It would be easier if he didn't say goodbye, right?
He didn't want to cry, but he couldn't stop himself. It was getting all too real for him to handle. What if this was just a huge mistake? But Kurt looked so happy. There was no way that he could take this away from him now; that would just be cruel. He wanted Kurt to be happy.
He rubbed the tears out of his eyes and fixed his smile in the mirror before leaving the bathroom.
When he got back to the dining room, he found that Burt and Kurt were missing. He turned to Finn and asked, "Where did they go?"
Finn shrugged. "There was something that Burt needed to show him," he answered.
This was Blaine's window. "Look," he said, "it was really great to meet you, and I hope you lead a wonderful life, but—"
"What?" he asked, looking baffled.
"I need to leave," Blaine said. "It'll be easier if I do."
"What do you mean?"
He sighed. "Kurt needs to be with his dad more than he needs to be with his boyfriend," he elaborated. "And if I leave while he's not there, I think it'll just be a lot easier for both of us."
Finn still looked confused. "Why does it have to be a choice?"
Blaine paused for a second, and then continued towards the front door. "Just… just tell Kurt I love him, okay?"
Finn waited a second, watching him dubiously, then shrugged. "If that's the call you're making… I guess I can do that."
"Thanks."
"Are you going to come back?" Finn asked.
Blaine took a long breath before shaking his head. "He doesn't need me," he said.
"If you say so, dude," Finn said with a frown.
Blaine sighed and turned to leave. If he hesitated for much longer, he might miss his window.
As he walked out to his car, he thought on the fact that Finn seemed to question his decision. The problem was that Finn didn't understand. Blaine had only become more convinced that Kurt belonged here, in Lima, when he met Carole and Finn. Not only would Kurt have a father again, but a whole family. That was a lot more important than a boyfriend and a bunch of teenaged boys, wasn't it?
It was too late to second guess himself now, anyways. He was getting in the car, and he was going to drive away. He wasn't going to cry. It would be easier in the long run this way.
"So I'm sitting there, pants down, and this old man just comes and busts open the door!"
Jeff was laughing so hard he could hardly breathe. "What…" he started, trailing off when he realized he couldn't speak past his laughter. After a moment, he calmed down enough to ask, "Did he say anything?"
Nick nodded. "He apologized. But it's not like he left immediately! He just… lingered."
He snorted. "I thought you were into that," he said.
"Oh yeah," Nick said, flopping back on Jeff's bed. "Because I am just so into men triple my age staring at my junk while I'm on the toilet."
Jeff snorted. "When you put it that way, it sounds so much better," he said.
Nick sighed, though he was grinning. "While it is funny in hindsight, this is why I don't go with Wes to his charity events often."
"They are fun, though," Jeff pointed out. "As long as you don't, you know, try to go the bathroom."
"Which is asking a lot of me," he said.
"Or you could lock the door."
"I would have if there was one."
"Door or lock?"
"Asshole," Nick said.
Jeff stuck out his tongue. "I'm just saying that you don't have the best history with locking doors."
"And you don't have the best history with knocking."
"Fair."
"Not fair," Nick said. "You're not the one who continually gets walked in on while in the bathroom or, and this one's the kicker, the shower."
"I swear to God I didn't hear the shower running," he said, holding up his hands defensively.
"Right," Nick said. He sat back up, grinning at Jeff, who was sitting on the floor. "That would be so much more believable if, one: I didn't sing in the shower, and two: if I wasn't the wet dream of countless old men and women alike."
Jeff leaned forward laughing, resting his forehead against Nick's knee. "You did not just say that."
"I did," he said. "It's totally fine if you count yourself among them, you know I love the elderly and all—Blainers! I have a hot body, right?"
Blaine had come through the door in the middle of Nick's sentence, and was now looking at him oddly. "What?"
Jeff frowned up at Blaine, gesturing for Nick not to speak. "Hold on," he said. "Blaine's got his sad face on. Why does Blaine have his sad face on?"
Blaine blinked and smiled. "What do you mean?"
"Oh, Blaine." Jeff frowned. "This is even worse than I anticipated. You're pretending not to be upset."
"I'm not upset."
"Wait," Nick said, eyes wide as he glanced around the room. "Where's Kurt? Is Kurt okay?"
Blaine took a breath, and it was a lot more shaky than he had intended it to be.
"Blaine," Jeff said quietly, getting to his feet, "What happened?"
"You know how Kurt was having nightmares?"
Jeff blinked, and then nodded.
"I found his father," Blaine said.
"So you took him back there to see him?" Jeff asked.
Blaine nodded, biting his lip. He went to sit on his bed, and Jeff immediately climbed up after him.
"So… is he still there?"
Nick looked confused. He ran a hand through his hair as he asked, "Did he… did he tell you to leave him there?"
"No," Blaine said. "He wouldn't."
"But you left him there anyways," Jeff said. It wasn't a question.
"I did," he confirmed.
"Is he staying there?"
Blaine nodded.
"Do we still get to see him?" Nick asked.
Blaine shook his head. "He'll be better off without—"
"Did you talk to him about it?" Jeff cut him off.
"I…" Blaine looked downward shamefully. He closed his eyes and took another shaky breath.
"Dammit, Blaine, are you serious?"
"He wouldn't have agreed to it, and he needs—"
"How do you have any idea what he needs if you didn't talk to him?"
"Jeff, he's going to cry…" Nick said quietly, trying, as always, to be a peacekeeper. The thing with Jeff, though, was that it was hard to stop him once he had begun.
Jeff stood and went across the room to his desk and opened a drawer. From the drawer he pulled out a small stack of pictures that had been taken with his old film camera. He sat down on the edge of Blaine's bed and offered them to him.
"What are…?" Blaine asked, trailing off as soon as he saw the first picture in the stack. It was a picture of him and Kurt asleep, arms around each other and holding on so tightly you'd think someone had been trying to pull them apart.
The next picture had been taken at lunch. Blaine was reaching a fork across the table to Kurt for him to eat whatever was on it.
In the next picture, they were sitting by a window. Kurt was looking out the window and up, probably at the stars in the dark sky, but he was looking at Kurt. There was a smile on his face, but not the kind that one puts on for a picture. No, he was completely unaware that he was being photographed; he was just so in love with the boy in front of him that he couldn't help but smile.
The pictures went on. Some were obviously candid shots, and others were ones they had posed for. Some included Nick or Jeff or the other Warblers, some didn't.
He looked back up at Jeff with tears in his eyes. "How did you…?"
Jeff let out a laugh. "Well," he said, "believe it or not, you two are so sickeningly in love that you develop this insane tunnel vision where you literally don't notice anything but each other." He paused, then added, "And don't think this is creepy, I have more pictures of everyone else in there, too. But I was sorting them."
Blaine smiled. "I just don't… I don't know why you showed these to me."
Nick grabbed the pictures from Blaine's hands. "I feel like it's pretty obvious," he said, "And I don't even really know what's going on."
"You two are so sickeningly in love that it's not sickening at all," Jeff said softly. "More than anyone I've ever seen. And it's like you just threw that away."
"I didn't want to, Jeff," Blaine said. "Do you honestly think that I wanted to do this?"
"You didn't have to," Jeff said. "There is… there's really no reason why you needed to do this."
"He deserved to see his father again."
"At the expense of love?"
Blaine sighed. "What's done is done, Jeff. I can't just take it back."
"You can."
Blaine blinked, frowning down at the pictures in Nick's hands. "Are you saying I did the wrong thing?"
"No," he said, "But you're going about it the wrong way."
Blaine leaned against Jeff's shoulder and Jeff's arms quickly went around him. It was like after Blaine had found out the truth about Jeremiah and was in need of constant comfort and reassurance. That was the thing about Blaine, though. He always gave so much for everyone else, and never expected anything in return. And as much as Jeff would have liked to yell at Blaine for being so stupid, he knew that that was the last thing he needed right now.
Waking up the next morning was difficult.
The worst thing to deal with was the fact that it took him a bit to realize why his bed felt cold, why he couldn't feel Kurt's body next to his. For a moment he had waited with his eyes closed to hear Kurt emerge from the bathroom or wherever and climb back into bed. He didn't, though, and when Blaine realized why, he pulled his knees up to his chest and bit the insides of his cheeks to keep himself from letting out a loud sob, lest he wake Jeff.
The more he thought about it, the more he realized that Finn had been right. It didn't have to be a choice. Kurt didn't have to exclusively be with Blaine or his father. An hour and a half to two hours really wasn't much of a drive, especially not if they met halfway or had sleepovers—not that he'd ever bring up that option to Kurt's father, no.
But he couldn't go back now. After all, what if Kurt didn't want him to come back? What if Kurt was happier without him? Maybe Kurt had just wanted to feel loved and latched onto Blaine because of that?
He knew that was wrong, though. He couldn't discount Kurt's feelings for him or try to write them off as any less than what they were. Kurt had honestly loved him, and there was no denying that, even in Blaine's moping mindset.
Part of him was afraid that Kurt would be mad at him once he realized what he'd done. Because, in hindsight, it really was a dick move. Jeff was right: if nothing else, he should have talked to Kurt about it. Even if it hadn't changed his mind—which Kurt probably would have been able to do—then at least it would have all been out there. At least then they would have been honest with each other, and they would have been able to say goodbye.
Blaine reached for Kurt's pillow, grabbing it and pulling it to his chest and curling his body around it, pressing his nose down and breathing in Kurt's smell. It would be gone soon, and eventually it would be like Kurt had never even been there.
He wasn't sure if that was a blessing or a curse.
Nick looked down at his phone, which had vibrated with a message from Jeff.
How can I miss someone so much who was only here for a few months?
Jeff had been taking the loss a lot harder than anyone expected him to. Being the supportive best friend (and just that, thank you, and while we're talking about it, Nick's stomach didn't fill with butterflies when Jeff smiled, that would just be weird) he was, he went down to Jeff's room to see if he could help.
When he opened the door, he found Jeff sitting cross-legged on his bed, ripping up a piece of lined paper.
Nick frowned. That was how Jeff dealt with stress: he ripped up paper.
"Hey," he said, sitting down on the edge of the bed.
Jeff glanced up, smiling briefly and nodding a hello.
"How are you doing?" Nick asked.
Jeff's hands stilled for a moment. "Honestly?" he asked.
Nick nodded.
"Terribly," Jeff said. "I hate Blaine. I hate him." He looked back down at the paper, glaring at it and continuing to shred it into tiny pieces.
"Hey," Nick said, reaching forward and grabbing both of Jeff's hands in his. Pulling the paper out and letting it fall to the mattress, he returned his hands into Jeff's with a squeeze. "You don't mean that."
"I do," he said. His fingers curled and his nails dug slightly into Nick's hands. "He just went and did it without telling anyone—even Kurt himself—that he was leaving him there. I mean, I'm sure Kurt's happy to be with his family, but that's not only Blaine's decision to make!"
"We don't know the full story, Kurt, he might—"
"He's not the only one that loved Kurt, you know? We all did. And, I mean, it's not like I loved him the way Blaine did, but it's still not fair. It's like… I mean, I know he's alive and well and all that, but I never got to say goodbye. I never got to say goodbye and I might never see him again, you know?"
"Is that what this is about, Jeff? You never got to say goodbye?"
Jeff sighed. "I don't know what this is about," he said. "I'm not crazy, am I? I'm not overreacting?"
"I mean… no, you're not. At all. I guess I wasn't as close to him as you were, so I'm not really sure I can understand."
"Let me…" Jeff started, frowning. His eyes narrowed in thought, then he nodded. "Got it. Have you ever watched someone sleep?"
Nick blushed slightly as he nodded in affirmation.
"There's just something undeniably, I don't know, endearing? Comforting? About watching someone sleep. I mean, when you watch someone sleep, you start to love them. You can see them as they are. There's no such thing as hiding when you're asleep, in any meaning of the word. Physically, when you're asleep, well, shit. Someone sleeping is completely defenseless; you have to feel at least somewhat safe to sleep. But more importantly, when you're sleeping, you can't put up any walls between yourself and the rest of the world. I think that that is why this is so hard."
"You watched Kurt sleep?"
Jeff nodded. "That's not creepy, is it?"
Nick shook his head quickly. "No," he said, "Of course it isn't."
"It's just…" he sighed. "I saw Kurt, and from the very beginning I liked him. I wanted to be friends with him, you know? And sometimes at night I'd look over, and he'd be there, and I'd wonder what he was dreaming about.
"Some nights he would smile in his sleep, or he'd curl up closer to Blaine. A lot of the time, he'd do both. It was just so honest, you know? There was no questioning it: he was happy, and he was happy with Blaine. Other nights, though, he'd just sort of shake in his sleep. I had no idea what he was dreaming about, and let's be honest, I don't think I want to know what he was dreaming about, but he just looked so helpless. He was safe, you know, but not in his head. It was still scary in there. And just like that, I wanted to help him, even though he was already being helped in a huge way by Blaine.
"And now I'm just thinking about him being out there, without Blaine… Blaine didn't give him any warning. It's just like all of a sudden the boy you loved and loved you back is just gone. And along with him, all the friends you made, who love you, too. It's not fair. I keep thinking about him sleeping alone. When he had nightmares, Blaine would put an arm around him—I don't think either of them had any idea—but it calmed him down. But now, what if he has nightmares now? What if he doesn't calm down? What if he thinks that Blaine doesn't love him anymore? What if he thinks we don't love him anymore?"
Nick blinked, moving forward and wrapping his arms around Jeff. "Jeff, calm down," he said.
"I can't," he replied, leaning his forehead against Nick's shoulder.
"Jeffrey," Nick said, rubbing his hands up and down his back. Jeff was shaking. "I get what you're saying, I just…"
"They were perfect," Jeff sniffled.
"What?"
"Kurt and Blaine," he said. He lifted his head and placed his chin on Nick's shoulder, leaning his head against his cheek. "I know that it's silly, but I sort of idolized them. And by 'sort of,' I mean a lot. And it's just like… if Blaine let that go so easily, if something so perfect broke just like that, what chance do the rest of us have?"
Nick grabbed Jeff's shoulders, and pulled him back so that he could look him in the eye. "Listen to me right now," he said, "You are so…" He stopped, biting his lip, and then started again. "People are people, and not everyone is the same. Not every relationship is the same. To expect that one relationship would work out because things worked out for another relationship? That's ridiculous. Trust me when I say that I know that you are going to have some amazing relationships in your life, and whether or not Kurt and Blaine worked out is not going to have any bearing on that. You are going to make someone so happy, and they're going to make you happy, too, because you deserve that." An odd look crossed his face then, but it was quickly replaced by a wide smile. "Besides, you're insane if you think that they're going to stay apart for too long."
Jeff smiled. "You are literally the wisest person I have ever met," he said.
"I try," he said.
Jeff moved out of Nick's grasp, moving to lean against the wall and setting his feet on Nick's lap. "Mario Kart?" he asked, watching Nick sweep the paper scraps into his hand and tossing them into the trashcan wordlessly.
Nick grinned, standing up and grabbing the Wii controllers from on top of a dresser. "Thank God you took it from Wes' room last week," he said, "because I am not walking that far."
"It's right down the hall," Jeff pointed out with a smirk.
"Exactly," he said, handing Jeff a controller. "That is just not happening."
He smirked, "When we're forty and you're fat because you're lazy and have awful eating habits, don't say I didn't warn you."
"Hey now, you don't have better eating habits than I do," Nick said, clicking his tongue.
"You ate three more rolls than me."
"You offered them. And can you really talk, Mr. Entire Sheet Cake in Less Than Half an Hour?" he laughed, climbing onto the bed and moving to sit next to Jeff at the head of the bed.
"That was once, and it was a dare."
"It was gross."
Jeff grinned, navigating through the menus on the game. "Thank you, by the way."
Nick glanced over at him. "For what?"
"For being here," he said. "For understanding. Things might have gotten ugly with Blaine if you hadn't."
"You guys are great friends, I don't—"
"I would have literally beaten him up," Jeff said. "All great friends aside. It wouldn't have been good at all, especially since he's beating himself up over it as it is… albeit not literally."
Nick didn't say anything for a moment, and then said brightly, "Well, that would really be something."
The world didn't have enough people like Nick Duval.
Nick had pulled off plenty of pranks before. Of course he had; you didn't just get to be best friends with Jeff without having an interest in mischief. Since they had grown so close, he had gotten even better at coming up with pranks and pulling them off without getting caught.
It had started simply. They replaced Blaine's shampoo with baby oil; he'd changed the channel in the lounge during important sports events using a universal remote as he walked by; they'd set alarms for various times on clocks around Thad's room and hid them; he'd covered doorknobs with petroleum jelly.
Eventually the pranks became more involved and more ridiculous. Twice, David had woken up to find that he and his bed were nowhere near his dorm room, but instead in a random place on campus. Another time, the entire campus had been covered with hundreds of Solo cups, upside down and full of water—the second anyone tried to pick them up, the water spilled all over the floor.
Really, it was a miracle they hadn't gotten in more trouble by now than they had already.
Still, though, there was one prank, a classic, that Nick had never pulled off and wanted to. And he figured that this was a good time to pull a prank; ever since Kurt had left, everyone had been in a bit of a funk. Blaine was moping for reasons obvious to everyone; and Jeff was moping because he'd lost one of his best friends and another was mourning that loss, and Jeff himself was upset that the relationship he'd had so much faith in had fallen apart so easily. Without the two of their usually extremely positive and fun people, the Warblers were all feeling a bit down.
(Or at least that was what he would say if anyone asked. If he were being completely honest, though, he really just wanted to see Jeff smile again, not that he'd say so.)
It was a relatively simple prank, really. Once he had found somewhere he could rent five pigs for an afternoon and bought a can of spray paint, it had all been smooth sailing.
Getting the pigs was relatively easy. At first, the owner was dubious about letting a teenager borrow them, but once Nick had told him what he was planning and promised him payment immediately and the safe return of the pigs, he had agreed to help.
Which was how there were currently five pigs running around Dalton's campus, labeled 1, 2, 3, 5, and 6. It was one of the oldest pranks in the book, and most likely the administrators would know what he was doing, but there was a chance that they didn't.
Either way, things were going well. The pigs were already causing a state of minor chaos because, hello, pigs on campus! Prep school boys in blazers and ties weren't really sure how to handle something like that.
No doubt, Jeff had heard about them and was probably being interrogated by Wes to find out if he had any involvement, but still, Nick fired off a text message: Are you seeing this madness? ;)
Almost immediately, he received a reply: Does that face mean you're behind this?
Before he could send anything back to Jeff, the blonde appeared behind him, carrying the smallest of the pigs, labeled 1. "I think he likes me!" he said excitedly.
"I think he does, too," Nick said, grinning widely as Jeff set the pig down.
"Damn, you are heavy, though," he groaned, patting its back. "Go run off and have fun. Preferably, make a mess and scare some people. Excelsior!"
"Excelsior? Really?" Nick asked, raising an eyebrow.
"You love it," Jeff said, chuckling as he saw 5 following a boy who was walking backwards away from the pig and looking very concerned. "So, why didn't you tell me you were planning this? I would have helped.
Nick grinned. "I wanted it to be a surprise, you know?"
"A surprise?" Jeff asked, the corners of his lips curling upwards.
"Yeah," Nick said with a nod. He looked down at his hands for a moment, biting his lip before blurting, "You've just been so down this week, you know? I wanted to do something to cheer you up."
"Me?"
"You," Nick affirmed. Blushing, he added, "I mean, for everyone else, too, but, like, I—"
Jeff blinked at Nick, a grin spreading across his face, the sort of grin you get when you're about to do something potentially catastrophic and reckless if you're wrong but you have a feeling you're right. Before he could second guess himself again, he leaned forward, his eyes fluttering shut as his lips met Nick's.
Nick took a moment to react, his eyes widening as he realized that Jeff was right there and he was kissing him.
Jeff took his lack of a reaction as a rejection, and pulled back, saying quickly, "I am so sorry, I shouldn't have just as—"
"No, no, no," Nick mumbled, reaching for Jeff's lapel to bring him back to have their lips meet again.
Nick couldn't stop himself from smiling into the kiss, because this was finally happening—though he shouldn't say finally, since he had never thought it would happen—and all it had taken was five pigs. It was good to know.
When they parted, they both just grinned at each other for a minute or two.
Finally, Jeff laughed, that sort of laugh where you were so happy that even though nothing was funny you had to laugh just so you wouldn't explode from the excess happiness, and said, "Hi."
"Hi," Nick replied, laughing in kind.
Jeff moved his hand downwards, almost cautiously, entwining their fingers and looking at Nick as if to ask if it was okay. When Nick nodded encouragingly, he smiled and said, "I feel like I should ask if this means that we're boyfriends, because, I mean, I want that for us but I totally understand if you don't and I'll respect that—"
Nick leaned over and kissed Jeff again (because he could now), and said, "Don't be ridiculous, Jeff. Of course I want that. I haven't pined over you since freshman year just to throw away my chance with you."
Jeff blinked, and Nick could have sworn he blushed. "Freshman year?"
"Come on, Jeff, I believe we have to go do some heroism and wrangle some pigs."
Jeff snorted, swinging their joined hands as he followed Nick, asking, "Do you know how to do a pig call?"