A/N: Here is it!

So, this chapter is from Kurt's POV, as you can see, it swings during the chapters. I know everything seems confused, but believe me, this is the best way to work it out when things come to a turning point. I'll write this here to, I'll be gone for 2 weeks on a holiday, but when I'll get back I'll probably be able to post more chapters, since I'll translate during these 17-18 days.

This is just trivia, but if you're interested, you can associate Birds Of Prey by Christina Aguilera to Sebastian and Little Bird by Ed Sheeran to Kurt :)!

Thanks for anybody following me and my stories! Hope you enjoy the chapter! - xoxo

Beta: CaramelApple74, who is also giving me a great support by being honest with me when I ask her if the chapters look okay or need something more!

/

Chapter 4

"Babe?" This voice that sounds so sweet and hoarse at the same time blows on his ear. "Do you want me to take you to bed?"

He moves slightly, but firm, strong arms are tightly wrapped around his torso. Immediately, the sensation of surprise turns into relieved comfort, because the other boy's body starts warming his own.

"Hmmm …" he whimpers, trying to pronounce something, anything, but he's still too sleepy to manage that. His eyes barely open to look at the screen of the television and the dim light it produces, making the room just a little less dark.

He feels soft, warm lips press on his head, and before he can keep it, he's already smiling with affection.

"Don't fall asleep on the sofa. That's a mess and you're going to wake up all wrecked up," the voice suggests him as the boy starts brushing his hair. "Your back will ache if you sleep on the sofa every night."

"I don't when you're not here."

He feels another kiss pressed on his forehead, as if that mouth wants to reward him for what he's just said. He shifts slightly then, lifting his head until – eyes still closed – he reaches his neck. He kisses back then, on this muscled, hot skin, moaning sleepily.

"Okay, babe. Go back to sleep," the boy whispers, and Kurt does.

/

When Kurt really opens his eyes and finds himself staring at the wood smooth apartment he lives in now, he just smiles. He has no idea what's making him feel like this, but there's an unknown sparkle of pure happiness that makes his morning start in the right way.

He keeps himself in balance for a few seconds, using his arm and trying to focus on that dream he'd had. As soon as he feels the first stab at his head though, he decides to let it go for now. He just leans a hand towards the bedside table until he grabs his phone to check the voicemail.

"Message, 6th of November, 2012, at 09:45 am."

He presses the button and then leans back against the pillow again as he hears Rachel's high voice greeting him.

"Hey! I've finally found a way to get you an appointment at the doctor. I had no idea there were so many sick people in New York, and we're taking an old woman's place today since … well, she passed to a better life last night. I'd say that we've been lucky, but honestly? I'd feel like throwing eggs on the woman's grave if I did …"

Kurt shakes his head, waiting for some useful information.

"Well. Now that we've had a moment of silence to express our sorrow, I have to tell you that the doctor's free from other appointments from 11:15 to 12:05. So, considering how long the metro takes, you should get out at 10:05. It's a golden chance, Kurt, there were like dozens of people before us on that list, so jump off your bed and forget about hair spray! Don't even think about what you're wearing. Have a shower, get dressed and get out of your house! If we're lucky again, the patient before us won't even take long. I love you, Kurtie-hmm, no, I meant Kurt! I meant Kurt, sorry about that! Hmm … see you soon, okay? Don't waste any time on hair spray!"

Beep.

Kurt doesn't really know why his brain reacted to the nickname. He winces, knowing that Rachel had adjusted it for a reason, even if too late. When he manages to focus on the full message, ignoring that detail, he jumps off the bed and runs to the bathroom.

He can't skip a long, relaxing shower anyway, or choosing his clothes with accuracy. He must give a hit of hair spray on his soft hair, but he just lifts his hair instead of trying some new, complex look.

When he stares smugly at the clock in the hallway, ready to go, he gives himself tiny applauses: 10:04. Perfect.

He opens the door and runs down the stairs, trying to ignore the stab making him nervous while he does.

/

"Rachel?" he murmurs through the phone, with the signal being weak in the tunnel. Fucking subway. "Rachel, where are you? I'm getting at the station."

"Sitting on our bench," Rachel giggles. "Having an awesome Frappuccino in the meanwhile. Do you think it's a problem for my vegan morality?" she asks, and Kurt rolls his eyes.

"I've seen you eating and drinking worse than that, Rach," he comments while the train starts to slow as it approaches to the stop. "I don't think a Frappuccino is a problem. Did Brody get you pregnant?" he asks hesitantly. "Because your problem right now is not what you eat, but how much you're eating. And if you are pregnant, you can't really follow your vegan diet anymore. It's going to hurt the baby."

"I'm not pregnant!" Rachel complains, lowering her voice a second later. "We still haven't … you know ..."

Kurt rolls his eyes again and hangs up the phone, because he's sure he doesn't want to know about the details. He walks out of the train and the station until he reaches their infamous bench where Rachel is sitting and waving her hand at him with a smile on her face – the enormous plastic cup of Frappuccino still between her fingers.

"Bonjour," Kurt murmurs, ignoring the stab hitting him at the word. He doesn't know what's wrong with bonjour, but he's getting used to not knowing. "Did I make you wait too long?" he asks, putting his hands in his pockets and looking down at her.

"Knowing you, it could have been worse," she mocks him and she gets slapped playfully on the back of her head.

Rachel stands up from the bench and they walk together to the medical studio while Kurt starts to feel a little anxiety at the idea that everybody around him seems to know what's wrong with him but him. Not knowing what's up with his health is sort of frustrating. Everybody knows, but no one seems like they want to explain it to him.

All he can do is hope that these stabs will end.

When they enter the building, they have to wait for a lot of people in line- check-ups and prescriptions- as they patiently sit in the waiting room. Rachel's explaining to him all that's happened with Brody lately, and Kurt feels weirdly relieved as he listens; normally, he would have told her to shut up because her voice is sort of annoying when she chats, but since they've stepped into the room anxiety has grown inside him, so he's happy that Rachel's distracting him with gossips.

He lets her talk, not only about her precious Weston, but also NYADA, an audition for a movie, how Santana's doing, horoscopes and whatever she comes up with. There are some things that Rachel mentions – like Santana, for example – that give Kurt little flashes of memories, but they're always too short for him to really focus on them. It's not like the other ones he had before.

"Kurt? Are you listening?" Rachel is clearly scolding him for the only three seconds Kurt had thought about something else. "Did I say something that … huh … shook you?"

"Hmm, no, I-"

"Kurt." Rachel's voice sounds firmer, "Seriously, you have to tell me when it happens. It can really hurt you bad, and the doctor told me it could damage you permanently. I need to make sure that it doesn't happen too often; actually, it shouldn't even happen, so …"

"Rachel," Kurt replies, breathing in deeply before he speaks. "Listen to me. I know you're doing this for me, just as I know that you want to protect me from something I can't figure out, but I need to understand what's going on. My life is starting to get frustrating, especially if I have no idea what I can or cannot do, what might make me pass out suddenly …"

That's it.

He's tried so hard not to think about it until now, and the topic has come out anyway, making anxiety grow fast inside his body, making him so nervous that his legs are starting to shake while Rachel looks at him, chewing at her lower lips and with her puppy eyes that do nothing but make him feel worse.

"Okay, Kurt. Just have a little patience," she murmurs, unsure. "Let's see what the doctor says, and-"

"About what?" Kurt asks, feeling his chest ache in contractions. "I see things when I pass out. Or sleep."

"It's just your imagination, Kurt!"

The fact that Rachel answers so fast though, with no hesitation, makes him think that the reply is planned, like Rachel already knows that's what she has to say. But it's his best friend, and maybe he doesn't feel like not trusting her at all just because of some weird vision. Maybe it's just his imagination, for real. Human minds can play awkwardly at times.

"Okay …" he says, hesitating. He's not the one who knows about what's going on, so. "Okay, maybe you're right. I shouldn't allow these visions to make me doubt."

"Exactly." Rachel smiles immediately, clearly calmer.

Somewhere inside his mind, Kurt knows that there's a reason why he has to act carefully with the visions and stuff; he remembers he's been the one who wanted this and the cure, even if it seems unwanted and undesired now. It was partly decided by him too, that's for sure. Rachel just didn't choose for him.

But still, he can't help but need to understand. The idea he wanted this calms him slightly, but it doesn't help him feel less frustrated about what he doesn't know now.

Minutes go by fast and Kurt is still thinking and thinking and thinking, even as they enter into the doctor's room finally, and Rachel closes the door behind their backs, letting Kurt in first as if she's afraid that Kurt's too delicate to be left behind, like she always needs to keep an eye on him.

"Good morning," Rachel says behind him, and Kurt half-bows to the doctor. "Thanks for not making us wait too much, Doctor Motta. I was afraid things could get more complicated."

"Don't worry about it, Ms. Berry," the man says, showing them a smile and pointing at the chair in front of his desk.

For a few seconds, Kurt doesn't move, so Rachel starts pushing him to the chair with a strict look on her face. They both sit and Rachel starts searching for something inside her bag, and then pulls out some pills and puts them on the desk.

"Tell me about it," the doctor says, looking awkwardly calm.

"Kurt has some visions lately-" she's about to explain, but doctor Motta stops her by raising a hand and turns to Kurt.

"Kurt," he calls him gently, with a smile on his lips, and Kurt thinks he really knows how to act with his patients because it calms him immediately. "Can you tell me what it is with these visions? When does it happen? What do you see? Tell me."

Kurt thinks about it for a few seconds, because he isn't really sure what to reply. Everything is confusing, and he doesn't really know what the cause for it when it happens is. He knows there are some things he has to avoid, that Rachel tries not to call him some names, but he really can't connect everything with this information. He tries to pull something out of it, but he doesn't know how it's going to sound.

"It's all confused and blurred, always. There's a boy with me, he …" He stops for a few seconds to wonder. Does the doctor know he's gay? Is he supposed to tell him about his recent vision, that there are some creepy things – maybe – connected to sex involved?

"Do you have sexual visions?" Doctor Motta asks then, anticipating him, and Kurt bites his lower lip as he blushes in embarrassment. "It's okay, Kurt. Sex is the most intimate moment between two bodies and mostly even two souls. It's a strong bond, it gets stuck into your mind and not only; it's also the most immediate fantasy human mind recurs to when it doesn't know what to produce."

"He passes out," Rachel cuts in, evidently anxious. "He was working and he started having sort of visions. Then he passed out and they called me."

"I see," the doctor comments, and Kurt's considering telling him about the coffee urn, wondering if it has something to do with what happened directly, but he doesn't do that.

They both stare at doctor Motta as he searches between the prescription papers, notes and writing that Kurt can't really decode, until he's looking back at them with a little piece of paper in his hands.

"The situation is unbalanced and delicate, Kurt. Your mind is weak and sensible, it could be dangerous," he says and then looks to Rachel. "Ms. Berry, the recent past is very easy for him to be deleted now," he explains cryptically, "the process is going to last long and there's no way to fasten it since this cure is only experimental. Right now, we can't do much more than observe and study how his system reacts."

"But I'm worried," Rachel complains, wincing, and Kurt just looks between them because he has no idea what's going on. It's frustrating for him to try and control this enormous block of perpetual anxiety. "I wouldn't want this to hurt him and get too unsafe."

"You were the one who signed for permissions, Ms. Berry," the man answers. "You should have considered the risks back then. Just like you should consider now the risks of having Kurt to live his life as a consequence of what happened."

Kurt hates it.

He hates the random secret language they use to talk about him like he isn't there when he's clearly waiting for some real explanation instead of words he can't understand.

"I'm perfectly aware …" Rachel looks at him and lowers her voice. "And believe me, I'm sure that this is exactly what he needs now. But I'm also putting myself in his shoes: Kurt woke up someday and he just can't know and understand anymore. I think it's normal for him to panic when it happens. I think he's afraid."

She turns towards Kurt and leans a hand to hold his, before she's looking at the doctor again.

"I'm not here to complain, I just want Kurt to be safe."

"He can't be," the doctor answers. "I'll say that again. This is very dangerous and it's not guaranteed that his brain won't be permanently damaged-"

"What?" Kurt asks, interrupting the explanation with his eyes wide open. Anxiety is growing, his breath fastens. "Is … is it possible for me to get permanently damaged? I … I don't want this. Whatever it is, I don't want it to happen, I-"

"It's your choice," the doctors replies, his chin resting on his palm. "Ms. Berry signed a deliberation and she can take her word back whenever she wants to. You though, Kurt, don't have faculties to decide right now."

"Rachel must choose for me?" Kurt asks, shocked. "Not that I don't trust her, but … why can't I choose what I'm doing with my health? I'm not sure that whatever this cure is for can be useful without killing me. I pass out twice a day almost, and-"

"Twice a day?" the doctor asks, stopping him. "Well, this changes the situation. We can go slowly, but less risky."

Kurt looks at him and wrinkles his lips at him, then at Rachel.

"Why aren't you doing that yet?" he asks. "If there's a less risky way … why haven't you-"

"Your case is particularly urgent. We had to do something," Dr. Motta says, tearing a paper from his notebook. "I'll write you different doses. As I said, Ms. Berry, the recent events are easy to forget about for him because his mind hasn't got the time to process them entirely yet. We're going backwards now."

Kurt would want to ask if they really think he's this stupid: they tell him he has visions and then talk about memories. How can Kurt trust this man? What keeps him from asking though is that instead he's sure he trusts Rachel. He knows she wouldn't do anything wrong, only choosing the right thing for him.

"Okay, I see," Rachel says, leaning to take the paper. "Anyway … If I woke up one day and decided that this cure isn't what Kurt needs, I will always be in charge for that, right? I mean, I could sign to stop it, couldn't I?"

Kurt wonders why it isn't just easier: he could stop taking pills and going to the doctor. Why is she supposed to signor to stop a cure? He tries to think that it's just a formality, but he's starting to get suspicious. And more anxious, of course.

"Whenever you might think it's the right thing to do. Just a reminder that Kurt's mind isn't weak from the cure only. If we'd stop, he would probably be like this anyway."

"I know, believe me," Rachel murmurs lowly.

Then they start saying their goodbyes: they stand up, hold their hands and Kurt winces a lot because he's just even more confused. Getting out of the room though is even more complicated when he faces a boy he thinks he's never seen before. Their eyes connect and Kurt feels a painful stab at his head. Maybe he has met him before.

The boy looks at him, surprised and scared, and Rachel turns to Kurt, tugging at his hand.

"Do you know him?" she asks, and Kurt stares at his face, hazel eyes, dark hair, and short body. He's charming- maybe charming isn't enough to define him, but Kurt doesn't have the time to think about it now, anxiety running through his system.

"No," the boy speaks before Kurt can, smiling with a clearly fake innocent printed on his face. "No, we've never met."

"Are you sure?" Kurt asks immediately, stopping the boy from entering the room where the doctor is probably waiting for him. "I … I do remember your face," he lies. Well, not completely; he doesn't remember his face, but there's something wrong and blurred that makes him think he does.

"Well, it's New York, it's big but we move fast. Maybe we've seen each other before." The boy looks hesitant and Rachel starts tugging Kurt's arm again.

"C'mon, let's go. It's probably just some pills effect."

Kurt isn't a bird of prey. Kurt's just a little bird.

If he were a bird of prey – the birds of prey watch -, he would have probably noticed the way Blaine's swallowing at the words, he would have noticed how nervous he looks, or maybe he would have noticed if he were sober enough to wonder why the guy has just walked over the line of patients, since he wasn't there when they had arrived.

But Kurt isn't a bird of prey, so he just shrugs and walks away with Rachel.

They get out of the waiting room and walk towards the exit. When they turn, Kurt is lazily looking around, still a little confused by this whole morning. Then, something happens; his eyes wonder curiously towards the balcony at the end of the hallway and his gaze falls on the person leaning against the glass. He can't really see too much except for a hand holding a cigarette and the curving stream of smoke coming out of it.

He walks slower even though Rachel is still pulling him, to stare at the little skin she can see. There's something wrong, he can feel it in the way the veins in his temples are starting to throb faster.

Rachel doesn't stop tugging, not even for a second, but Kurt knows there's something. Maybe it's the smoke, maybe just the sky, it can be anything. The sense of anxiety runs through him again and he keeps staring there until he can't anymore because they're turning again to walk out of the building. It burns inside him, his heartbeat fastening as he needs to walk slower.

Rachel turns towards him this time, when Kurt has stopped and she doesn't manage to move him anymore. She looks at him, worry filling her eyes.

"Kurt?" she asks, lifting her eyebrows, "Is everything okay?" she asks, and Kurt would want to answer yes or no, but the truth is he has no idea.

"I don't know. I-I think I've just seen something-"

"Forget it," Rachel says, and Kurt just looks more confused. "Kurt, seriously, you have to forget whatever you saw. This is for your own good, you wouldn't want to know about what happened. Trust me, I know you. Stop fighting this cure."

"I'm not fighting," Kurt answers, chewing his lower lip. "I'm not fighting and I don't want these things to happen to me, but they do and not knowing anything doesn't help me finding a way to fight these moments when they come to me. Believe me, Rach, I don't want to fight the cure, but it happens. And it scares me to death."

Rachel sighs, her face looking sad and also a little resigned. It doesn't really help Kurt feel better.

"Listen, I know this is all too confusing for you now, but it's going to get better. It might take some time, but it will happen." Kurt nods, unsure. "How about we go out and see the Christmas illuminations? This street is so always of them and it's awesome. What do you say? It might be a cute distraction."

Kurt nods then because he needs something to do to not think too much. Thinking makes him walk through the labyrinth of his mind and makes his head spin and hurt. He wants to run from this.

"I think that's an awesome idea." He forces a smile. "Everything I want right now, it's some peace and something ordinary might help me."

He immediately realizes that this is the first time he is facing the situation like this. He can still call it a progress. He grins at himself, wincing also when he thinks about that hand he's barely seen. He wonders if he should find an excuse to get away from Rachel and go back, searching for this mysterious person. And yet, he also knows that there's a fair chance that it hasn't to do with the person either.

And then, he feels like getting closer also means that his head would burn in pain and he really doesn't feel like it.

"Fine, it's going to be awesome, I swear!" Rachel claps her hands happily. "I can't wait for it! What should I wear for that?"

Right now, Kurt's totally grateful to her; she's keeping his mind busy with a guaranteed weapon, fashion. No stab or headache could ever keep Kurt from a good talk about what his best friend is supposed to wear. They start walking with their arms interlaced while Kurt starts to suggest her a few hypothesis since he's got Rachel's wardrobe pretty impressed into his mind. He's got it memorized better than the last months of his life apparently.

There are no confused or painful thoughts during the walk.

The day comes fast to an end quite easily. The moment Kurt gets hit again is when he's not expecting it anymore; he's laid in bed a few minutes ago, under the covers, lights already off. He's already drifting to the land of dreams, giving up to his emotional tiredness.

He gets a little confirmation of what he thought about after he saw that hand, the smoke, that skin.

/

The smoke that fills his lungs seems able to enter easily under his skin. Easier than it usually does even. It's probably because he isn't wearing any clothes. He doesn't have his usual dozens of layers covering him. He doesn't need them when he's with him though. Partly because he makes him feel protected anyway, and also because he doesn't know how much he wants to defend from him yet.

"Bastian …" he calls him, gently stroking his naked chest with his fingertips (it's the first time he hears his name inside his head, while sleeping; it's weird, but not totally unpleasant). The handsome boy beside him turns to him (two enchanting emeralds gazing at him, so that Kurt can see them perfectly now, for the first time in his visions) and grins lazily. Kurt can feel his own body wrecked and tired, sunk in the mattress with all his weight.

"Kitty?" the boy murmurs on his lips, leaning over to kiss him lightly, since they both probably feel too tired for more. Kurt blinks, wincing sleepily.

"How many times did I tell you not to smoke in bed? You shouldn't even do that in the dining room …" he complains, wrinkling his lips. These long fingers brush his face and Kurt hates the way his cheek is pressing into the touch. "God, you know how to buy me …" They look at each other in their eyes and Sebastian puts the cigarette back between his lips, not pulling his gaze away not even for a second.

"I've learned," he answers, breathing out in the room, filling it with the gray shades that dissolve fast. Kurt stares at his muscled chest inflating and deflating (He still has no idea while he's in bed with this familiar gay though), charmed. "I've learned how to buy you so easily."

Kurt doesn't answer at that.

He just stares.

When a few minutes pass, his eyelids started getting heavy again. He closes his eyes then, but feels the sheets brushing him and a cold air run through his body. Maybe Sebastian's shifting to use the ashtray on the bedside table.

Indeed, Kurt feels his warm body getting closer to his again and delicate fingers stroking his skin in that way that Kurt finds sexy and creepy at the same time.

"Bas?" he calls him with his eyes still closed, because he perfectly knows what these caresses mean. He's learning to know him, too.

"Relax …" the boy murmurs, moving his hands on Kurt's body, working on his muscles. "I like it when you're relaxed. It makes it easier. I like it when you're spread for me and-"

"But I'm tired," Kurt complains, stuttering a little somewhere in the sentence. "I need to sleep. We've been going for hours …" he whispers, feeling a soft brush on his lips.

He opens his eyes then, cursing himself for the shiver that runs through his spine when he realizes that the other boy is looking at him like he's the most beautiful thing in the world.

"One more time, I promise," he murmurs, grinning sweetly, and Kurt hates when he smiles like this because he knows he does it on purpose. He can't resist. "Just one and I'll let you sleep."

He sighs but leans his neck immediately, finding the strength to reach his lips with his own. It's a harsh kiss right when it starts, but it turns fast into a mouth, tongue, teeth fast tempo. Kurt has a little problem with getting hard at the beginning- it's not that the boy in his bed isn't hot, it's just that after several orgasms, it would be hard for anybody- but when it happens, as soon as he feels these strong hands on his chest and his hips, he shifts abruptly on his lap, kissing him from there and making him feel his hardness against his body.

/

When Kurt wakes up, he's in total panic.

He cuddles in bed, feeling an unknown flame burning his body from the inside. The dim flashing inside him is probably a consequence of the vision. Of course, he isn't stupid enough to deny it.

It's the first time this name, these nicknames - Bastian, Bas - fill his mind with their sounds. They make his head ache, but they still sound familiar for reasons Kurt doesn't know. He can clearly distinguish the anxiety taking over, making him stiffen under the sheets.

He can remember perfectly how the smoke fills into his lungs.

His excitement in the dream seems now real.

He can feel the warm touch of that skin on his own.

He needs a pill right now.

He tries to stand up but falls back on the mattress.

He curses into his mind and cries out, suffering when his head aches more, making him feel like he's about to explode. He sinks his face in the pillow and breathes in, feeling his lungs burn like he's inhaling smoke still, but no one is smoking in the room. The air is clean, what the hell is happening?

Anxiety grows, his heart beats fasten, and Kurt has no idea how it feels when you're about to die from a panic attack, but he's sure it's a lot like this. Everything hurts and is blurred to his sight, and when he tries to say something, he fails. His voice chokes in his throat and the familiar sensation of passing out takes over him. It's so awkward to wake up to pass out after. Sweating cold is even worse in bed than usual, but at least he is falling on the mattress. The impact is softer, but his head still hurts.

He tries to sleep again.

It's hard, but not impossible.

All he has to do is turn his mind off.

It's hard not to think about at how before today his visions had always included blurred faces and no names, and then it all changed right now.

It's already the 7th November, 2012 when he lets go and sleeps definitively, consumed with the emotional stress of the day.

His last thought – together with the first stab – is about who Bastian is, and eventually how wonderful his green eyes look. An unknown sensation of happiness runs through his chest and he falls asleep with a smile on his face, even though he's too tired and shocked to realize.

He won't know about the smile.

He won't know that subconsciously he's smiling at Bastian.