A/N: So, I'm sorry this took so long but here's the continuation to the '…of you' series. The first part was 'The Idea of You' - Kurt finds someone's personal journal in the school library and reads it. He starts to fall in love with the journal's owner. The second part was 'The Reality of You'. The ending is becoming a monster so I've split it up into a few parts. Here's the beginning.

Sebastian walked straight to his room and shut the door. He dropped his bag on his bed and sat down beside it, reaching a hand inside and pulling out Kurt's journal. He held it in his hands but he couldn't make himself open it. He stared at it, examined it, running a finger up and down the spine, feeling the rough texture of the cover beneath the pads of his fingertips. He measured the weight of it in his hands, and as confused as he was by Kurt giving it to him, it comforted him, too. He wasn't sure what he would see when he opened it. It might be completely empty; Kurt's secret way of asking him to write more for him. Of course, Kurt could very well have written 100 plus pages of 'Fuckyoufuckyoufuckyoufuckyou', and Sebastian, for his part, recognized that he probably deserved it.

Kurt hadn't seemed too happy with Blaine when he walked out of the music room. Whatever Blaine had said to Kurt in those seconds before Kurt turned and left seemed to be the culmination of something monumental between them; but that didn't necessarily mean he'd go running into Sebastian's arms.

Was that what Sebastian wanted? He wanted Kurt; he knew that for sure, and not just for his body the way most people would likely assume, but for his brilliant mind, his heart, the strength of his convictions. He had complicated, involved dreams about making Kurt his, maybe even making Kurt fall in love with him, but Sebastian didn't exactly do the boyfriend thing. Boyfriends, in his experience, were a lot of work, and Kurt looked like he could be pretty high maintenance.

He had to admit, though, that it might be worth it.

Sebastian turned the journal over in his hands while he contemplated his own true intentions. If he wasn't willing to see this through, opening Kurt's private journal had the potential to do more harm than good. If something Kurt wrote between these pages made Sebastian more infatuated with him than before, his fate would be sealed. There would be no turning away from Kurt Hummel.

After flipping it over and over and not getting anywhere, he decided to at least crack open the cover and see if Kurt wrote anything on the inside: a dedication, an author's note, or maybe just his name. A small note slipped out, stuck into the spine like an afterthought. Sebastian plucked it out and opened it.

Sebastian –

I asked Blaine to write me a poem. I didn't want much. I just wanted something from the heart; something that expresses how he really feels about me. If you're reading this note and you have this journal, that means Blaine didn't write me the poem I asked him for. A simple little poem. I would have taken a single line if that's all he had to give. He's supposed to be in love with me, and he couldn't write me one tiny little poem. You barely tolerate me and you wrote an entire journal. What does that say about me?

Sincerely;

Kurt

Sebastian read the note over and over, but he read the last line twice as many times since it nearly shattered him.

What does that say about me?

Sebastian grimaced that Blaine's lack of attention and consideration would make Kurt doubt his self-worth. He would have to address that in another letter, but for right now the book was open and Sebastian decided it was as good a time as any to see what Kurt had to say.

Every page he saw was filled front and back. Sebastian skimmed them quickly, but he didn't see a single 'fuck you', so he flipped back to the beginning and read it word for word.

I don't understand.

Those were the first three words Kurt wrote.

I don't understand.

Sebastian chuckled.

"You and me both," he muttered. "Join the club. We have jackets."

I don't understand how you can say all those beautiful, romantic things in your book about me. Do you really feel that way? I've become so comfortable with the idea that you hate me – or at the very least that you despise me. You have no respect for me. You tell me and show me every day. You criticize my clothes. You make fun of my voice. You correct my French even though I know that my translation and accent are impeccable. Everything about me seems to infuriate you. You're constantly trying to pull me apart. You don't seem like you'll be happy until you've broken me down into so many pieces that I would never be able to put myself back together again. So how can you say that you think those things about me?

Sebastian felt every word stinging him, sticking him like a dagger to his heart. He read and he read, but fifteen pages in it got harder and harder to make out the words on the page; because Sebastian's hands shook.

Because Sebastian had started crying.

Fifteen pages of hurt. Fifteen pages of confusion. Fifteen pages of anger and grief that Sebastian had caused. He tormented Kurt to keep him at arm's length. He wanted him, and yet he treated him like dirt. Sebastian probably would have just continued on this way, assuming that his was the only heart being torn apart by not admitting his feelings and giving Kurt the chance to accept or reject him.

He forgot there were two hearts in this equation. He forgot there were two people being hurt.

So many times I looked at you, and you stared through me like I was nothing, like I was less than nothing, and I wondered without trying to care just how it was you could think so little of me. What did I do? What did I say? Students at McKinley bullied me for being gay. I was tossed in dumpsters for being out and proud. But you seem to dislike me simply because I exist. I came here to escape the pain of that hate, and I was happy…until I ran into you. Now I read your journal and discover that hate was just a front to hide your feelings; but it felt so real that I don't know how to forget it.

Is it worth it for me to try and learn how?

Sebastian closed the book and slammed it down beside him on the bed. He sobbed, almost unable to breathe, wiping at his eyes with his fingers to clear his blurry vision. He stood, literally launching himself off the bed with unnecessary force, walking away, putting distance between himself and the book. Guilt ate away at him, gnawing at his soul and his brain with all the terrible things he had said to Kurt in the past, the ways he tried to drive a wedge between him and Blaine.

He could have let him be; he could have let Kurt be happy, but no. He had to be selfish. He had to be stupid. Sebastian grabbed handfuls of his hair in both hands and pulled hard, grunting through clenched teeth more from revulsion then pain. He kicked his desk chair hard, turning it over onto the floor. He kicked it again and again, ridding himself of all his frustration. He stopped only after he heard a sickening crack and thought he might have broken his toe. He wiped his eyes again and caught a glimpse of his desk clock.

7:37 P.M.

He had been locked in his room reading Kurt's journal for over two hours.

In another 23 minutes he'd miss dinner but that didn't matter. He didn't have much of an appetite anyway, but he did need to get out of the dorms and get a breath of fresh air. Sebastian shoved the journal under his pillow and headed out of his room, racing as quickly down the hall as house rules would allow. The hallways were pretty active at this hour with students walking to and from the dining hall, most of them already dressed in regular clothes for the night. A low murmur surrounded him from groups of boys talking and laughing. A few shot a hello his way, but he ignored them, his eyes trained on the double doors ahead that led outside.

He was so close; so close to escaping when Kurt crossed his path –dressed in skinny jeans and a long sleeve, deep blue dress shirt that complemented his eyes perfectly. He waved good-bye to Jeff and Nick, laughing at something they had said, oblivious to a bedraggled Sebastian barreling down the hall, about to cross his path. Sebastian saw him and choked, skidding to a stop and looking around for a room he could duck into. Kurt turned and saw him as he stumbled a step away from him. Their gazes locked and Sebastian noticed the way Kurt's eyes softened, the way his whole expression seemed sad, or sorry. He read the emotions on Sebastian's face and he knew.

Sebastian wanted to run and forget about all of it; forget about Kurt and the journal, and lock his heart back away in that stone safe it had been happily suffering in for however long since he had first met Kurt Hummel.

He couldn't. He had opened the book. There was no going back for him, but he wasn't sure how to go forward.

He bounded down the hall toward Kurt, and Kurt simply watched him curiously. He grabbed Kurt's arm and pulled him, looking erratically from side to side until he found what he wanted. He dragged Kurt through the door to a nearby classroom.

Sebastian ushered Kurt in and closed the door behind him. Kurt didn't say a word. He looped his arms around Sebastian's neck and held him, hugged him. For the first time since they'd known each other, Kurt embraced him with his whole body, pulling him close to give him comfort.

Sebastian hated it. He wanted to push away, but this was Kurt, and Sebastian was beginning to understand that Kurt wasn't just this thing that he taunted for his own amusement, and he wasn't the summation of a few flowery words on a page. He was flesh and spirit and his exceptional mind and his sharp tongue.

He was everything that Sebastian never knew he wanted.

Sebastian wound his arms around Kurt's body and held him tight. He sighed, melting into Kurt's arms.

He didn't know what possessed him to cross the line from hugging to kissing, but without even completely comprehending what he was doing he felt himself pressing his lips gently against Kurt's skin. He kissed up Kurt's neck, slowly from his collar to behind his ear. Kurt gasped, trying to step back; a halting, stuttered movement, but when Sebastian wouldn't let him go he fell into Sebastian's arms. Sebastian cradled Kurt's head in his hands and looked into his blue eyes. They stared back at him, wide and trusting, open and honest.

Sebastian breathed him deep, that alluring smell of sweet and spicy and warm, all swirling together in his head, making him feel dizzy.

That scent and the emotions that came with it would always remind Sebastian of Kurt.

Sebastian dropped his head in defeat of those eyes and that smell that would haunt him every day, but right now, they weren't his to enjoy.

"I'm not going to do it," Sebastian whispered, shuddering, at war with himself, "I'm not going to turn you into a cheater."

"Sebastian?" Kurt whispered when he started to walk away. Sebastian shook his head.

"Come to me when you've made your decision," Sebastian said. "I'm not going to push myself on you."

Sebastian turned and walked out of the room, and rules be damned he sprinted for the outside doors, breaking through them with a deep inhale that failed to erase the scent of Kurt from his head.

He ran across the parking lot. He jumped the fence to the lacrosse field, and he kept going.

Blaine saw the notes passing back and forth between them – in classes, in the hallways, after Warbler practice. They were definitely subtle enough. Kurt would palm a note into Sebastian's hand when they got up from the table after lunch, and Sebastian would slip one beneath the cover of Kurt's math book in Calculus class.

It wasn't the existence of the notes that bothered him. Blaine passed notes back and forth with his friends all the time. No, it was the way that Kurt's face lit up when he opened one and read it. Once when they were studying late, a note made its way beneath Kurt's door. Kurt didn't read it, just squirreled it away into his desk drawer, but the way his eyes shone, he looked like Christmas had come early.

What made it worse was that Kurt wouldn't let Blaine read even one.

Blaine burned with curiosity to see those notes but Kurt wouldn't show him. Every time Blaine brought them up Kurt would immediately change the subject. The tension over the notes grew into a full scale argument one night while they were studying in Blaine's bedroom for a literature final.

"But why won't you let me see them?" Blaine asked, looking up from his book to get Kurt's full attention which he didn't seem willing to give at the moment.

"Because they're really none of your business," he said, eyes still skimming the words of The Count of Monte Cristo.

"They are my business," Blaine insisted. "You're my boyfriend and you're passing secret notes to another guy."

"Really?" Kurt said, lifting his gaze from his book to peer at his Blaine's accusing hazel eyes, "What about you? What about all those texts you guys used to send each other? And the pokes on Facebook?"

"Those were all family friendly," Blaine argued.

"How do I know?" Kurt slammed his book shut. "You never let me see any of them!"

"Because they…"

"…were none of my business?"

Blaine sighed.

"Because they didn't matter," Blaine said calmly.

Kurt's mouth dropped, his brow furrowed. He shook his head with a small, humorless laugh.

"Here!" Kurt stood from his seat. He grabbed a bunch of small notes out of his pocket and dropped them in front of Blaine. "Let's take a look, shall we?"

Kurt started opening the notes and reading them out loud, dumping them in front of Blaine when he finished.

"Kurt – do you really think that Edgar Allen Poe was a necrophiliac? Kurt – can I borrow your history notes? I fell asleep in class again. Kurt – could you please tell Blaine that Katy Perry is old hats? And we all know he has a hard on for Adam Levine but maybe we could lay off the Maroon 5, too. Kurt – could you please consider lending some of your patented girl clothes to Mrs. Marx? If I have to look at another one of her plaid pant suits I'm going to get up during Speech and Debate and punch her in the neck."

Kurt took the remainder of the notes and showered them into Blaine's lap.

"Here's the rest of them. While you read these, I'm going to go finish studying in my room."

Kurt gathered together his books, stuffing them into his bag while Blaine sputtered, trying to find a way to convince him to stay.

"Kurt…I'm sorry. You're right, I really shouldn't have…"

Kurt sprinted from Blaine's room before Blaine could figure out the right thing to say that would stop him. He watched Kurt go, sorry for having pushed him, for having doubted him. He racked his brain for some way of making it up to him. Maybe he could get the Warbler council to give him a solo at their next competition. Blaine collected the discarded notes, folding them up neatly and piling them on his comforter. He swept his eyes around his room to make sure he got them all, preparing to take them back to Kurt's room and apologize again.

On the floor where Kurt had been sitting, Blaine saw a folded piece of paper, almost kicked beneath the bed. He scooted across the mattress and bent low to pick it up.

This note looked different than the others. The notes Kurt had shown him were all written on lined notebook paper, but this one looked like thick parchment, cream colored, with a wax seal affixed to the back. Blaine opened it carefully, trying not to crack the seal. Blaine read the note over quickly, his heart stopping in his chest at the simply written one line poem –

Every day I am luckier than I was the day before for having one more chance to see you.

Blaine wanted to crumple the paper in his hand, to tear it into tiny pieces and toss it in the trash, but he couldn't. The note didn't belong to him, and Kurt might notice that it was missing and come back looking for it. How would he explain destroying it? Blaine looked over the note, and then examined the wax seal which had one single initial embossed into it – the letter 'S'.

Blaine shouldn't destroy the letter. It was proof, and it was a warning.

A warning that he had better move quickly if he was going to hold on to Kurt.