"Mom?" Blaine's voice was barely above a whisper.

"Blaine, if you want I can talk to her," David offered, but Blaine put a hand up and shook his head.

"Is that David?" his mother asked. "Tell him he needs to call home as well. Do you know Mrs. Bryant has called here three times asking after him? As for you, Blaine, after you get home, you are grounded until further notice. Blaine, honey, your father and I have been worried sick! It's 4AM. Why aren't you at home?"

"Sorry…just…I needed…I was at the hospital."

"Blaine?" his mother asked. "Are you all right? You're brother's home for the weekend and I'm sure he'd like to see you. I could send Caleb to pick you up if need…"

"It's fine mom, I'm fine."

"Like hell you are. Blaine, what in Heaven's name is going on? No, no, no. Don't tell me. I'm probably better off in the dark on that matter. But Blaine, this is it. I have had it. Your father and I have just had a very long discussion regarding your current state of affairs, and we have both come to the conclusion that it is time for you to grow up. Ever since you started seeing that boy, it's like you've become a different person. I hardly know you anymore. You're never home. Whenever you ARE home, you're constantly on your phone texting or on your computer, and I know it's because you're talking to him. I get calls from Dalton saying you've cut class and when your father and I ask you why, you tell us it's to see him! You miss curfew. You're never here for dinner with the family anymore. You know your SATs are coming up in a month and if you don't prepare, the only thing you'll be qualified for in life will involve a paper hat and asking 'Would you like fries with that.' I certainly hope he's worth…"

"Forget it. Wes, David and I are at a hotel in Lima. I'll be home in the morning."

"Honey, what is going on?"

"We were at that football game. A bunch of guys jumped us…."

"Oh Jesus…Blaine honey, was it the same guy who attacked you before? Are you okay?"

"I'm fine mom. Not the same guy. Different guys. I got beaten up, but I'll live. Kurt…" he sucked in a deep breath as he tried to form the words. His eyes were already swollen and he already had a massive headache, but the tears started again as if he hadn't already cried an ocean's worth. He thought he could say it. He thought he'd wrapped his brain around the concept that Kurt was dead. He'd repeated it to himself enough times since it happened, but he hadn't said the words aloud yet. "Kurt's not going to be a problem anymore."

"Well, that's a relief," she said. "Sweetheart, I'm sorry you and Kurt are broken up, but honestly, honey, you need to forget…"

"We're not broken up, Mom," he said in a small voice that didn't sound like himself even to his own ears. "He's dead."

"Oh my GOD. Blaine, honey…I don't…I'm so sorry. What can I do? Do you need…?"

"No, Mom. I'll be home in the morning. I'll call when I leave."

"Honey, can you forward me his family's contact information? I'd like to send condolences."

"Why, mom? You barely made an effort to get to know him. You didn't even like him. Dad looked down his nose at Mr. Hummel like he was some kind of servant because he's a mechanic. The truth is, Mom, I'm not home for dinner anymore because I felt like I actually mattered at the Hummel's. Like I actually counted."

"It's just the right thing to do, Blaine, and if you felt that way, why didn't you…"

"Oh, please, like you would've actually LISTENED if I'd said something."

"I could've tried, Blaine. You never let us in. You never gave us a chance! Blaine, I think we should have this discussion later when you've had a chance to calm down and…"

"No, you know what?" Blaine grumbled. " Forget it Mom."

"Blaine Patrick Anderson don't you DARE…"

Whatever his mother was about to say, he didn't hear it. "David, call your mom," he said after a long while.

Wes and David didn't say anything in response. They just exchanged questioning looks, and waited for him to continue.

"That was my mom on the phone," Blaine announced after several long, agonizing minutes.

"We know, Blaine," Wes said.

"He's dead," Blaine said to nobody in particular.

Wes and David both laid a hand on Blaine's shoulder.

"We know, Blaine," David said, and handed Blaine a small, white pill.

"David, I don't' even want to know why you have medication with you for what was supposed to be a short trip," Wes said.

"It was in my pocket from the last time I slept over at Blaine's."

"That cannot be sanitary," Wes said.

"It's just a little linty. But Blaine, you need some rest."

"I hate sleeping pills," Blaine argued. "In fact, pills in general are just…the devil."

"Blaine," Wes said, "as a doctor's son I have to advise against taking someone else's medication. But in this case…take it. Please."

"Let me help you," David pleaded. "I know you're hurting. But you need to rest."

"David," Blaine said. "Thanks, but I'm going to take a cue from Nancy Reagan here and just say no. Drugs aren't going to help."

"Sleep will," Wes said. "You haven't slept in almost forty-eight hours. I know you pulled an all-nighter for that chem exam. The body can't function on that kind of sleep depravation."

"Guy's…I'm not…"

"Blaine, don't make me use the gavel," Wes said.

"How about a compromise," David suggested. "A half a pill?"

Blaine nodded and took it, swallowing without any water.

When Blaine opened his eyes, he was in his old room at Dalton, which struck him as odd. He thought Wes and David were going to take him HOME home, but he supposed it didn't really matter. He didn't want to have to face his parents.

Blaine jumped when the door flew open, and he blinked in confusion at the sight that greeted him.

Kurt.

His Kurt.

"Jesus, Kurt…you're…" Blaine stammered.

"Hi Blaine," he said in that high, breathy voice of his, blue-green-grey eyes twinkling with mischief. "Like my outfit?"

"Tell me you're real," Blaine whispered. "Please, tell me you're really here and you're really you."

"I'm real, Blaine. I'm really here, and I'm really me," Kurt replied, gaze never wavering from Blaine's.

Blaine could only blink, and he wondered why he didn't notice before that Kurt was completely, entirely in tact. And completely, entirely naked.

"You're not wearing any…" Blaine breathed, but Kurt put a fingertip to his lips and shushed him.

"I know," he said quirking an eyebrow and grinning wickedly. "Although, I don't really know how that happened. Or what happened to my favorite scarf. It was McQueen!"

Blaine just laughed and reveled in the feel of Kurt's warm breath inches from his face. Blaine's fingertips ghosted over the gaping wound where the knife had stabbed him.

"I love you," Blaine said. "I don't want to find out what life is like without you."

"Blaine Warbler, I'll bet you say that to all your dead boyfriends."

"Please, Kurt. Don't leave me," Blaine said, and then kissed him fiercely with all the strength he had left in him.

"I want to, Blaine, but I can't…you know I can't." Kurt's porcelain skin started to crack under Blaine's fingertips. His skin was now cold and wet like melting snow to the touch. A metallic-pink substance oozed from Kurt's pores and Blaine could do nothing but scream as Kurt's head split in half above him. Kurt smelled like mold and rotting garbage and it made Blaine gag and gasp for air. He finally managed to push Kurt's now-rotting corpse off of him, but not before falling off the bed.

And then he woke up, trapped in his sheets in a tangled mess on the floor.