(Author's note: This chapter was originally published in 2013 as a stand-alone story in the Donut Holes series, which is a container for non-sexual Donutverse short stories. (You can read the sexy stand-alone Donutverse stories in the 50 Kinky Ways series.) It's very satisfying to see it integrated into the main canon at last. -amy)

Kurt woke up on Saturday with an ache in his chest and tears on his cheeks. Finn was already awake, his head close beside Kurt's on the pillow next to him, watching him.

"You were dreaming," Finn murmured.

"Yeah." His words came out thick, like his tongue had forgotten how to speak them in the aftermath of his dream.

"It didn't sound like a very good dream."

"You could have woken me up."

"I know. But it wasn't—it wasn't too bad." He touched Kurt's chin with his thumb, wiping off tears. "Not like Puck's dreams."

Kurt nodded. "It felt very real. Hard to wake up from it when…"

"When you might not ever have it again for real?" Finn nodded. He didn't even look sad. It could have been infuriating if Kurt hadn't already felt so emotionally exhausted. As it was, he didn't have the energy to be mad at Finn. Not about this.

"How can you accept this situation so easily?"

"I don't know," Finn admitted. "My mom says it's because I know I have to be strong and get through it for everybody else. I think you know that too."

Kurt wiped his eyes. "I know if I see Blaine today, I'm going to have a hard time not falling apart. But I know it'd be worse not to see him at all."

Finn nodded again. "Do you want me to go with you?"

"You can't do that, and you know it. Carl will be there, and… that'll have to be enough."

He let himself cry a little more as Finn gathered him up. It felt like a fortification against whatever might happen next.

Whatever it is, he thought, it can't be any worse than what's happening now.

Carl silently held the door for Kurt, letting him enter first. He grimaced, glancing around Java the Hut. "She moved things around."

Kurt chose a quiet table in the corner, away from the stage and the counter. "What?"

"The tables. It's a new configuration." Carl watched the empty stage, his face uneasy. "He's not going to like that. It's going to throw him off."

Kurt wanted to refute this statement, wanted to say with confidence no, Blaine's not like that. The fact that he couldn't was enough to make him want to turn around and climb into the Navigator and drive back to Lima. Kurt didn't know Blaine anymore. Whoever he had been over the summer, the boy Kurt had fallen in love with wasn't going to be the one on the stage. Santana had said the same thing. He thought he'd been prepared for this, but the longer he waited, the more he knew just how bad this was going to suck.

"He's struggling," said Kurt, and stopped at the look on Carl's face.

"He's broken," he said quietly. "Make no mistake about it, Kurt."

Kurt dropped his eyes to the table and took a long breath. He couldn't say anything.

Java the Hut was still mostly empty, but people were starting to filter in. Whatever else he was at the moment, Carl had said Blaine still knew how to fill a room, and he couldn't doubt that was true. He had enough intel from his roommate Jeff to know Blaine Warbler was also performing beautifully, impeccably, heartbreakingly. It was just that nobody else knew the rest of his life was as much an act as that was.

"Come on," said Carl, beckoning him along. "What are you drinking? Finn said something sweet and chocolatey."

"Grande nonfat mocha." Kurt smiled. "I asked Finn if the coffee was any good here, and he had no idea. He either gets these crazy Italian sodas, lime and things like that, or -"

"Hot chocolate," finished Carl, a little smile on his face. "Yes, I know."

Kurt blushed. Of course Carl did. He and Finn had come down here almost every weekend for months in the winter and spring, singing with Blaine. Kurt eyed him with mounting frustration. Everything was complicated this summer, but at least we were happy. Now... Blaine, and Adam, and Noah. It's all slipping away. I can't hold on to any of it.

Carl touched his arm. "It's okay."

"No," said Kurt. "I don't really think it is. It hasn't been for weeks."

He tipped his head to one side, considering. "No? How's your dad doing?"

"He's a lot better..." Kurt paused, then sighed at Carl's wry grin. "Okay. Maybe it is okay. I mean... do you think things can be awful and okay at the same time?"

"I think they usually are like that," said Carl. From his expression, Kurt guessed Carl knew precisely what he was talking about. He closed his eyes and tried to accept that reality.

When he opened them again, Irene was standing at the counter before him. There wasn't a hint of a smile on her face. He had to make an effort not to retreat before that regard.

"Kurt," she said, her voice low and smooth. "Did your sister make it home all right?"

"Um." He glanced at Carl, who nodded. "Yes, ma'am."

Her wide, expressive mouth twitched. "Lydia filled me in about her return. That kid's lucky she didn't get worse than a spanking. What can I get you?"

"Grande nonfat mocha for him," said Carl, setting a couple bills on the counter. "Coffee for me."

She didn't even look at them as she turned to start the espresso machine. "You know your money's no good here. You might as well put it away now."

Carl smiled again, but it was softer this time. "I won't stop trying."

"That's because Tess taught you right. How's life treating you?"

Kurt didn't miss the dark look that passed over Carl, but he recovered quickly enough. "Probably as well as you would expect."

This puzzled Kurt, although Finn had explained a little of what Carl had said to him about Emma. He's not happy, Kurt thought, watching his face. He's getting married, but he's not getting what he needs, and Irene knows it.

Irene laughed, without one change in her expression. "I bet you're right." She slid Carl's coffee across to him, watching Kurt. "About as well as I expect the rest of you are handling this year."

"We're hurting every day," he said steadily. "Finn's strong, and he's dealing with it, but I don't think happy is really in his vocabulary right now."

Carl looked away, picking up his coffee and returning to their table. The coffee shop was starting to fill up. Irene watched him go with a little frown.

"That's a whole fucking lot of unhappiness, right there," she said, nodding at Carl. "And I'm arrogant enough to think I could solve the whole lot of it with a little judicious application of leather."

Kurt was startled into a laugh. Irene's solemn brown eyes shone at him, even as her face stayed impassive.

"I - sometimes think about it," Kurt admitted. "God knows Finn needs it. I could cross all kinds of lines of consent, but... I've seen how bad that can be. He's told me he doesn't want it from me, so I'm not going to do it."

"No," she agreed. "I'm not either. But it's comforting to know I'm not the only one who sees it. And I'm not above a phone call to Tess, either, because she has blanket permission to deal with him as she sees fit."

He felt warm inside, the way Irene was talking to him. It was the same way Gaga had spoken with them when they'd visited, for all she'd been much closer to them in age: like a fellow adult; like what he said and thought mattered. He accepted his coffee, wrapping his hand around the cardboard heat protector covering the glass.

"Finn's managing," he said. He looked at the empty stage. "But Blaine..."

Her lips tightened, following his gaze. "You'll have to watch him and decide that for yourself. And Kurt... remember, he's Patrick here. Not Blaine."

Kurt nodded. It was strange to hear the name again after so many months. They'd eventually put the pieces together and figured out that Finn's Patrick was the same as Puck's boy at the bar, and the same as the boy who'd auditioned for RENT with Kurt and Mr. Schue and Toby and Shelby. So much had happened since then.

"Does being Patrick mean he gets to be any more himself?" he asked.

"I don't think so." She shrugged, leaning on the counter on crossed arms. "But maybe he doesn't have to hide in quite the same way."

There was so much he wanted to tell Irene, but he couldn't help but feel grateful for the way she was treading carefully around the minefield of issues with which they were dealing. She hadn't said one word about Puck, which was good. Tonight would be hard enough as it was. He reached for something easy.

"Darius did a great job in RENT," he said. "He told me he's your nephew."

The smile that bloomed on her face was almost more intimidating than her scowl. Kurt let out a little nervous laugh.

"That boy," she said, shaking her head. "He'll be the death of me. He's really my cousin, but young enough that we usually said nephew. His momma never did understand him, but he's chock full of talent." She nodded at Kurt. "You did a great job, too."

"Oh - you were there?" It shouldn't have been a surprise. Of course Irene would come to see Darius perform, and Blaine.

"Darius had nothing but nice things to say about you. I think he was impressed with the way you boys handled your complicated relationships." She gestured at the stage. "Patrick will be out in a few. You should go get settled now, if you don't want to draw attention to yourself."

Kurt decided a hug over the top of the counter would be too weird, but he gave her a grateful smile. "Thank you. For coming to the house to stay with us while our parents were gone, and for — for everything you've done for Finn and Blaine."

"I love them too." The statement was simple, matter-of-fact. She didn't say Finn's like my son, or anything like that, but everything implicit in those four words made Kurt pause and blink his eyes a few times before he headed back to their table.

Carl shifted his battered guitar case under the table, surveying the room.

"The girl in the front, with the glasses," he said, pointing discreetly. "She's been here every week, since Patrick started coming. And the twins in the back, too — but don't turn and look at them, they'll get nervous."

The warmth that had been kindled by his conversation with Irene expanded inside Kurt. He felt that familiar possessive sensation, the one that usually accompanied thoughts of Blaine.

"He has fans," he said softly.

"Damn right he has fans." Carl's voice was mild, but he wasn't fooling Kurt. That was a relief, too. Carl had been Blaine's friend through all of this, and the fact that he was here at all, that he'd continued to come to this place that held such intense memories of Finn, just to give Blaine something familiar to hang on to, that meant something. "If you give me your phone, I'll take the video. You shouldn't have to be distracted by technology, not tonight."

Kurt smiled to himself; he knew how Carl felt about technology. He showed Carl what to press to start and stop the video, hoping it would come out okay. Finn needed to see this as much as Kurt himself did. Even if he couldn't be here in person, the video would be something.

And then the door opened again, to the jingle of bells, and Kurt watched as Patrick walked in.

His hair, he wanted to say. He fumbled for Carl's hand without even thinking about it, grasping it tight. His eyes, and his hands, and that shirt, and god, his hair.

"He's — different," he managed to whisper. Carl nodded.

"That's Patrick," he said. "Even if he can't be himself, he gets to be this, once a week."

Blaine set the guitar case down on the stage, nodding and smiling at the people who greeted him. His eyes passed over Carl and Kurt as though they weren't there, but Kurt had known to expect that. To Blaine, they wouldn't be there. They couldn't be, or he couldn't cope. It was what he needed to do, to get through his father's sentence: If you try to see Finn or Puck again, I'm taking you out of the country. It was only luck that had kept his father from finding out about Kurt, too. But Blaine hadn't acknowledged Kurt, either, not since that night his father had found him and Finn together.

Kurt made himself watch Blaine as he set his guitar case to the side and sat down at the piano, brushing his untamed hair out of his face. His neck was bare, released from his customary tie. That felt almost worse than anything, to see that bare neck. Kurt wondered if it hurt Patrick as much as it hurt Blaine to be without that protective clothing.

"Hey," said Blaine into the microphone.

Kurt flinched, and Carl squeezed his hand once more before turning his attention to holding the phone steady. There was a scattered hey from the audience, and a few claps. Blaine's smile was sweet.

"How's everybody doing today?"

"Do Kid Fears," called one voice from the back. Blaine shook his head, his smile fading.

"I have a new one," he said. "Eliza Gilkyson. It's kind of been on constant repeat, these last couple weeks, and I think I might be ready to sing it now."

And then he looked at Kurt - he looked at Kurt - and he nodded, once. Kurt felt his heart stop, stutter, and start again, double time.

"Did he just -" he whispered.

"I'll be damned." Carl let the phone drop for a moment, and he stared at Kurt. "That was... unexpected."

It was all Kurt could do not to stand up and rush the stage. Blaine had seen him. He'd seen him, and he was still there, on the stage, calmly settling himself in front of the piano, letting his fingers skate over the keys.

Kurt felt his hands shaking. "I don't know what to do."

"Just listen. I think that's what he needs right now." Carl propped the phone up, pointing it at Blaine on the stage, trying to keep it steady.

Blaine played the opening bars, leaning in to the microphone, and began to sing.

Yeah, though I walk through the valley of the shadow
Thou art with me
Though my heart's been torn on fields of battle
Thou art with me
Though my trust is gone and my faith not near
In love's sanctuary
Thou art with me

He sounded a lot less different than Kurt had expected. The style of music was different from the music Blaine had performed with Kurt all summer on the stage, and it wasn't anything like what he'd been told the Warblers did at Dalton. But it was still Blaine, still his same clear, confident voice. And the lyrics... by the end of the first verse, Kurt had stopped trying to hold back the tears.

Through desolation's fire and fear's dark thunder
Thou art with me
Through the sea of desires that drag me under
Thou art with me
Though I've been traded in like a souvenir
In love's sanctuary
Thou art with me

He wasn't making eye contact with anybody in the audience, but Kurt could see the concentration on his face as he played the instrumental bridge. He'd known Blaine could play the piano, had heard him a couple times at Toby's, but watching him perform, like this...

"That's him," said Kurt fiercely. "He's right there, Carl. That's not an act."

"No," Carl replied, his voice faint. "I think you're right."

The last verse was as straightforward as the others had been, but Kurt found himself singing harmony under his breath. He realized Carl was doing the same.

Through the doubter's gloom and the cynic's sneer
Thou art with me
In the crowded rooms of a mind unclear
Thou art with me
Though I'll walk for a while down a trail of tears
In love's sanctuary
Thou art with me

Carl stopped recording as the applause swelled and filled the room, setting the phone on the table. Kurt captured it and stowed it safely in his pocket. Finn wasn't going to believe this without evidence.

And Blaine was still there, on stage, accepting the audience's reaction with patient nods. He was still there. Kurt turned to Carl in desperation.

"I don't think I can leave without finding out—"

"Go on." Carl sounded resigned. "Worst possibility, he won't acknowledge you, just like he did with us."

Kurt stood, pushing his chair back, and moved through the seated crowd to approach the stage. Blaine was opening his guitar case, apparently getting ready for his next song, but when he saw Kurt, he paused.

"Did you hear it?" Blaine asked. The question was calm, almost offhanded, but he met Kurt's eyes, and waited for the answer. Kurt's heart thudded erratically.

"I heard," Kurt said. "I—I wanted you to know. I'm taking it home with me."

There was a flash on Blaine's face, one that could have been pain, but it was hard to tell. "Thank you." He smiled at Kurt, just for a moment, before returning to tuning his guitar.

Kurt nodded, fumbling for words, but eventually gave up. I have to touch you. Please, let me hold you. Come back to us. None of it was possible, and words would just make a mess of this moment—which, after all, was more than he'd ever expected he would get.

He made it back to the table, sat down, and concentrated on breathing for a few minutes while Blaine strummed the opening chords to his next song. It didn't matter what it was. Kurt had heard him, loud and clear.

Song credit: "Sanctuary" copyright Eliza Gilkyson, performed by Lucy Kaplansky, Eliza Gilkyson and Paul Gorka singing together in the ensemble Red Horse. Lucy Kaplansky's songs have unexpectedly soundtracked an enormous portion of the Finn/Blaine relationship.