A/N: Wow. I actually kept my word. I am surprised.

And look, we have a plot! Ooooh, does it bite? I'm not sure.

WHAT A PAIN IN THE ASS WAS THIS CHAPTER. I MEAN. GAWD.

Well, in any case, this is chapter thirteen! Fourteen will be so difficult, I can feel it. Jesus.

So yeah, enjoy fellahs, and maybe leave a comment? That would be AHMAZING.

Someone shut me up.

xoxo,

Effie

Chapter 13 - Home, Where My Love Lies Waiting Silently For Me

He had memories to forget, that was sure.

But not today.

Today, he thought, I am going to scan the crowd for him, to see if he will recognise me…

What if he does? Or worse, what if he doesn't?

"Are you okay?" he heard a warm, caramel voice behind him, and then he felt Blaine's hands wrap around his chest.

Kurt sighed, turned to face his boyfriend and smiled. "No", he breathed, shaking his head. "But I will be" he continued with a crooked smile.

Blaine grinned and brought a soft hand to his face. "You can do this, I know you can. But if you need anything, just call my name."

Kurt tried a tentative smile, despite his nerves. "Can I call your name even if I don't need anything?"

"Hell yes" Blaine chuckled and planted a feathery kiss on his lips.

Kurt kept his eyes closed for a second after the kiss was over, and then he sighed once more. "Here goes then!"

"You can do this, Kurt" Blaine smiled reassuringly.

Kurt raised the corners of his mouth in gratitude and then made to leave.

"Kurt?"

He looked over his shoulders, right into Blaine's hopeful eyes.

"Yes?" He smiled.

Blaine closed his eyes and breathed a smile. "Nothing, nothing."

Kurt furrowed his brow, ready to inquire as to what he meant, but Blaine lightly pushed him into the blinding light of the stage. Will's voice announced his entrance, and Kurt felt his heart beat like it never had before while he stared blankly into the crowd.

"Hi dad", he whispered.

Blaine shimmied his way onto an empty seat in the bleachers, muttering 'sorry' and 'excuse me' all the while. Will was still announcing Kurt's number, so Blaine took the opportunity to scrutinize the crowd for a sign of a bald head and blue eyes. Kurt had described his father like a blind man would describe a flower, tentatively, full of awe, nostalgically. Blaine somehow felt more confident that he'd find him throught that description, than he would if Kurt was typical and spoke in detail. Because Blaine wasn't looking for face angles or eye shape or clothes – he was looking for frantically searching eyes, for a face more tired than it should be at forty six years, for hastily put on clothes. He was looking for a father that had lost his child.

But then the drums started beating, and Blaine swiftly trained his eyes on the light soaked figure on the stage below him. Kurt's skin was shining like alabaster under the ugly, glaring eyes, and combined with his light hair and turqoiuse suit, it gave Blaine – for the millionth time – the idea that he was out of this world.

Kurt snapped his face upwards. Blaine was ready to get immersed in the show – and Kurt – but then he heard a faint gasp from right beside him. He caught himself from turning his head too quickly, but when he finally let himself steal a glance, he saw the fine lines he was expecting around the man's eyes, the furrowed brows, the look of utter disbelief in his eyes – Kurt's eyes. Burt Hummel was sitting right next to him, tottaly tranfixed on the figure he thought – and hoped – was his son.

Blaine was constantly teased about being superstitious and faithful on the whole 'supernatural' scheme; and who could blaime him, when things like this happened, when his boyfriend's father, whom they've been looking out for, had sat right beside him?

Suddenly, his train of thought was disrupted by a raspy voice to his left.

"Excuse me, son, ain't you working for the company?" Kurt's father – Burt – asked of him. Blaine couldn't stop himelf from snapping his head this time, but he did manage a small smile and nodded fervently. Burt nodded too, so obviously caught up in the thought that the boy on stage, who moved so magically on the silks as if he was their master, could be his son. "Yeah, yeah, I thought I saw you doin' the acrobatics before… You put up a good show, kid." "Thank you, sir" Blaine murmred, a blush creeping its way into his cheeks.

Burt tore his eyes from Kurt with difficulty, and looked at Blaine with a pleading look Blaine had seen before; it was the look Kurt had given him when they first kissed by the campfire. He felt his breath catch in his chest.

"This may seem outta line but, I was wondering, could you tell me that boy's – sorry, that young man's name? He looks rather similar to a boy I knew, and I'm eager to find, you see" he asked Blaine straightforwardly, with no reservation or doubt in his voice.

"Of course, sir, that is my dear friend Kurt Hummel. Would you want me to give him a message?" Blaine asked, hoping that Burt could sense his meaning.

Of course he did, he was Kurt's father.

"Just tell him that his dad is in town, son."

"I think, sir, you could be the one who delivers the message to him" Blaine whispered, smiling comfortingly at the same glasz eyes that had stealen his heart away. Kurt could say what he wanted, he could put up a fuss and never speak with him again, but Blaine would get him to meet his family. He couldn't stand the thought of him going through what he himself had been going through for nineteen years.

"Yeah", Burt said, returning his now hopeful gaze at the man on stage; his son.

"Yeah, I think I could."