Kurt was happy.

Of course, the last time he had been happy, the world had responded by taking the source of his happiness and tossing it down a flight of stairs.

But, all things considered, he was cautiously content.

After Kurt had insisted on telling Blaine the rest of the story at home, it had taken at least another hour before he and Blaine could connect their stories into one understandable line. Well, Blaine's story had been simple enough, and easier for Kurt to understand since he had known Will for so long. They'd realized that, for whatever reason, Blaine could only see Will in reflections—like the glass of the trophy display right before he had , understandably, had been very… unenthusiastic… about the idea of a jealous ghost roaming around, but the evidence was hard to ignore. Or rather, the lack of evidence.

What worried Kurt was that he still had no idea what Will was planning. He knew why, but not what, when, where, and most importantly, how. How had he managed to become solid enough to push Blaine when just moving made him flicker between being here and being transparent? How had he been able to unlock Blaine's locker, or pick up a paint brush and can? Will had obviously been untruthful in more ways than one, but it made Kurt wonder what else he had lied about.

For now, he was trying to think past that. He was just happy that he and Blaine were stronger than ever now that the truth was out in the open. Anyway, he hadn't seen Will in weeks. Maybe he had taken Kurt's warning to leave he and Blaine alone to heart. For now, Kurt was focusing on school and Blaine and Glee club.

Like I would be if I had never met Will.

He shook his head. He wasn't going to think about Will anymore. He was going to think about how nice it was that he and Blaine could snuggle with their feet tangled up on the bed without worrying about Blaine's injury now that it had healed. He was going to think about the shopping trip he had planned with Mercedes and Tina for the following weekend, to buy their outfits for prom. He was going to think about—

"Love songs!" Blaine repeated after the rest of the Glee club had filed out, leaving them alone in the choir room. He clapped his hands, literally bouncing in his seat. "This is going to be great."

"Great?" Kurt groaned. "This is going to be yet another cliché and overused lesson from Mr. Schue." He paused. "Although I have to say it's better than the last time when we got our partners at random. At least I get to sing with you."

"Always the optimist."

"I try." They smiled at each other, then Kurt whipped out his iPod from his tote. "Come on, let's pick a song. Maybe if we get some practice time in today, we can have tomorrow evening to ourselves."

"Does that mean cuddles?" Blaine asked, tilting his head and looking at Kurt with a hopeful expression.

"That means cuddles," Kurt confirmed. "You know I can't resist cuddling when it's cold and rainy outside."

An hour later and they had gotten nowhere with their song selection. Blaine had banished Kurt to the piano bench facing the wall while he did something inexplicable near the window. Kurt was lazily tapping out nursery songs on the keys since Blaine had flapped his arms and squawked at him when he had turned around to see what Blaine was doing.

"L is for the way you look at me," Blaine sang under his breath. Kurt smiled a little to himself.

"Can I turn around yet?"

"One more second," Blaine promised. "I'm almost finished with my masterpiece."

Kurt rolled his eyes and continued tinkling with the piano. A couple seconds later, Blaine called out that he could turn around.

He swung his legs over to the other side of the bench and looked toward the window. Blaine was standing on a chair beside the window, where he had traced a heart with his finger against the cold glass. Inside, he had written "Kurt + Blaine."

"Ta-da!" Blaine announced, wiggling his fingers in front of the window. He turned towards Kurt, beaming. Kurt couldn't help but laugh out loud at Blaine's puppy exuberance. Sometimes he was struck by just how lucky he was to have him. Even after all this time, Blaine still took his breath away.

"Do you like it?" Blaine asked, looking at his creation as proudly as if it were his own child.

"I love it," Kurt answered, unfolding his legs and standing up from the piano bench to walk over to the seats under the window. He reached up and grabbed Blaine's tie, tugging it until Blaine had leaned over. "I love you." He stood on his tiptoes to press a gentle kiss to Blaine's lips, but Blaine had other ideas. He followed Kurt down from the chair and nudged him to sit, then tumbled into his lap, their lips miraculously still connected. Kurt laughed inside the kiss, feeling warm and blissful. He loved moments like these—just he and Blaine, still so excited about the new things they had discovered about each other and the moments that were yet to come.

Kurt pulled away to dig in his pockets. It was hard maneuvering around Blaine, who always got clingy when they kissed and was never the one to stop. Finally, he managed to pull out his cell phone.

"Is this—the time—for texting?" Blaine demanded, sucking at the hollow of Kurt's neck.

"It's definitely not the place for a heavy makeout session," Kurt said drily. He lifted his phone and waved it in front of Blaine's face. "Do you ever feel like… like we're passing so many moments and we never realize until they're gone?"

Blaine blinked. "We're young. I don't think we really need to worry about that yet."

"You never know when life is going to force you to worry about that," Kurt murmured. "No, but I just mean… I want to remember everything. I want to remember the way this felt right now, how it's cold outside but I'm warm when your arms are around me, how badly I want to keep kissing you and never have to stop, how incredibly," he stopped to kiss Blaine's forehead, "dorky you are, and how much I love it."

Blaine smiled, his eyes softening from the sharp want that had been in them before. "I want to remember everything."

Kurt smiled back, then went to the camera on his phone. He held it up, making sure both he and Blaine were being captured by the screen, then leaned forward to kiss Blaine on the cheek.

But Blaine jerked back, nearly causing the phone to go flying out of his hand. Blaine grabbed Kurt's hand, peering in at the phone's screen.

Kurt stared at him. "What?"

Blaine's eyes were wide, but he just shook his head. "Nothing. I thought I— nevermind. Sorry." He let go, then leaned against Kurt, gesturing for him to take the picture. Kurt raised the phone again, centering them, and snapped a picture. Blaine leaned into Kurt even more to look at the screen, then froze.

"Kurt," he said quietly, still staring down at the phone.

Kurt glanced at Blaine questioningly, then down at the phone. The picture was a cute one, but a bit blurry. Kurt had taken it right at the moment that his lips had touched Blaine's cheek. Blaine was smiling, though a little distractedly.

"What's wrong?"

They both jumped as a loud screeching noise, like manicured nails against a whiteboard, filled the room. Blaine jumped to his feet and pointed to the window.

The heart he had drawn was still there, but foggy tendrils were radiating from it like cracks. There was another loud screech, and then, slowly, a thin line appeared through Blaine's name. Then another, and another, and another, more and more rapidly, until Blaine's name was entirely covered by the thin gashes.

"Kurt, let's go," Blaine said urgently, reaching forward and grabbing Kurt's arm. Kurt nodded and stood up, but as soon as Blaine had touched Kurt's arm, even louder screeches began to emanate from the window and "KURT KURT KURT" appeared on the wall. Once, twice, five times, then ten—the words were being scratched into the window at an alarming pace, overlapping each other once the first layer was covered.

Kurt looked away from the window when he felt Blaine tugging on his arm, but when he turned to leave, Blaine just grabbed his cell phone. "What are you doing?"

Blaine didn't answer, but continued to fiddle with Kurt's phone. Kurt watched him, baffled when Blaine turned his back and held the phone out in front of him like he was trying to see—

A reflection, Kurt realized. He was trying to see Will, trying to be on an even footing with Kurt. He couldn't imagine what this was like with Blaine—dealing with something that he couldn't really see but who could see him perfectly fine. But Will wasn't here yet. They had to leave. "Blaine, forget it," he said, reaching out for Blaine's hand.

"Yes, forget it, Blaine. I'll make things easier for you," a sneering voice said from right behind Kurt. Blaine gasped and dropped the phone, whirling around and grabbing Kurt so he was standing behind and to the right of Blaine.

"Stay away from us!" Blaine shouted, clenching so hard onto Kurt's arm that Kurt thought it might fall off.

Will was standing just below the window, under a bed of "KURT KURT KURT KURT" and the now-illegible heart with he and Blaine's name in it. He looked… different, somehow. Clearer, maybe. The color in his eyes was closer to a vibrant green than its usual milky gray. And there was something else—he was leaning. Against the wall. But not what he usually did, not just leaning near the wall so that it seemed as if he were touching it; he was actually leaning against the wall, with no apparent chance of him sinking through it.

Will pushed himself off the wall with a smirk, taking a few steps toward them. Blaine backed up. "Stay where you are!" he warned, pointing a finger directly at Will.

Kurt stared at him. "You can see him?"

Blaine nodded, but kept his eyes trained on Will. "Crystal clear," he said shortly. "Let's leave."

"So soon?" Will pouted. "We haven't even gotten to the fun part yet."

"And we're not going to," Blaine retorted. "Come on, Kurt." Blaine pulled him to his side, then strode toward the door, only to come to an abrupt stop when Will disappeared and reappeared right in front of them.

"Oh, I don't think so," Will said lightly. "You see, I'm feeling so alive today. It would be a shame to waste my good mood. I'm pretty sure you wouldn't want to, at least." He winked at Blaine, then took a deliberate step forward and reached out to flick one of Blaine's errant curls. Blaine flinched and stumbled backward. "He's pretty, Kurt, I'll give you that."

"Don't touch him," Kurt snapped.

"My, you two are testy today." Will ambled over to the chairs, leaving their way to the door clear. "Why don't you sit down?" he asked, taking a seat under the window and gesturing to the chairs next to him. "Makes yourself comfortable."

Blaine glanced at him, then over at Kurt, but Kurt didn't want to chance their luck. He had a feeling that Will had thought this all out very, very carefully. He had a feeling they wouldn't be able to just walk out anytime soon.

"We'll stand, thanks," he answered tightly. He looked around helplessly, trying to figure out what Will's intentions were. But the ghost looked completely at ease, sprawled out in the chair like he didn't have a care in the world. Kurt had to distract him, keep him talking until he could figure out what his motives were. "You're solid," he blurted out. "How are you doing that?"

Will perked up at Kurt's question. It almost felt like it used to between them, when Will would become so proud and cheerful at Kurt's interest in his spiritual prowess. There was something more sinister about him now, though, something that had been under the surface the whole time without Kurt realizing. "Practice makes perfect," he said, looking smug.

"So you've been able to do this the whole time and you never bothered to tell me?" Kurt demanded, trying and failing to keep the offended tone out of his voice. He tried to remind himself that Will wasn't just another friend who had kept a secret from him—Will was dangerous now, and he had to treat him that way.

"I just learned how to recently."

"Really?" Kurt asked scathingly. "And why did you never learn how to before?" Kurt felt a pressure on his hand as Blaine squeezed it just slightly, probably to tell him to soften his tone.

Will stared at Kurt, then looked down, all of his bluster disappearing under a bashful exterior. "I never had a reason to before."

Kurt raised his eyebrows. "And you do now?"

Will opened his mouth, then glanced at Blaine. "Does he have to be here for this?"

Kurt looked at Blaine, who was staring so intently at Will that Kurt got the impression he was afraid the ghost would disappear if he looked away. "Anything you have to say to me, you can say in front of Blaine."

"I—" Will bit his lip, then sighed and ran his hand through his hair. It was such a human trait that it startled Kurt. Often, it seemed as if Will were playing an elaborate game of pretend, just going through the motions of the human behavior that he remembered from his time. It was rare for Kurt to see him so vulnerable. At times like these, it was easy to see through the veneer and into the person that Will could have been when he was alive. Just a scared kid, trying to find his way in the world just like anyone else.

A scared kid who's now trying to scare me and Blaine, Kurt reminded himself. It was far too easy to fall back on pitying Will.

"It—it hurts my head to stay solid like this," Will admitted. "I've never been able to do this before. I don't think I should be able to now. We—I wasn't made to be able to talk to people like this, to let them see me. I don't think it's… allowed, exactly."

"What are you saying?" Kurt asked slowly. "Then why can I see you?"

"Because I let you." Will shrugged. "You don't have any sort of—of special skill, or anything. I saw you that day in the choir room, and then I let you see me. I was lonely, Kurt." He looked up at Kurt imploringly. "You have to understand how lonely it is, Kurt, when you're stuck wandering the same halls, never speaking to anyone, left to look on at everyone being so happy and knowing you can't join in…"

But Kurt did understand. It was exactly how he had felt before he had met Will. Before he had met Blaine, and realized that the same happiness his friends were privy to could be his, too, if he just allowed himself to look for it.

"If I had known I was going to be stuck here—" Will stopped.

"What?" Kurt asked.

"Then he wouldn't have killed himself," Blaine supplied, his voice soft. He shrugged when both Will and Kurt turned their gazes on him. "I did some research. You weren't killed by bullies like you said, were you, Will? Or at least, not directly."

Will looked down at his lap and fidgeted with his fingers, turning them over in each hand one after the other. "It hurts to stay solid, Kurt," he said, his voice barely louder than a whisper. "I'm doing it anyway. For you. Because I care about you. A lot."

Kurt scoffed, the sound bursting out of his mouth so loud and full of contempt that it surprised even him. "If you cared about me so much, you'd understand how important Blaine is to me, and you would leave him alone! You hurt him, Will! With your words, and with your actions. And by hurting him, you hurt me. So don't you dare say you care about me, because this time, words aren't enough to do a thing about it."

Will shot out of his chair, so quickly that Kurt didn't even see the movement between him sitting and him yelling in his face. "Blaine doesn't deserve you!"

"Right, and who is? You?" Kurt replied disdainfully.

"Blaine—" Will froze mid-retort. "Blaine doesn't understand you like I do," he stammered, his voice losing its heat.

"Will—" Kurt started, but Blaine tensed next to him.

"You're dead!" Blaine shouted, his eyes bright like they got just before he cried. Kurt squeezed his hand. Blaine squeezed back, but he didn't back down. "How could you understand what it's like—what life's like—what we even have here? How could you show up and ruin everything like this?" Blaine's fell silent.

"How could you?" Will shot back. "I didn't show up and ruin anything—you did. I've been here the whole time. I've been alone all this time. You wouldn't know the first thing about that, would you? Loneliness. Look at you. Handsome, charming. People probably fall all over themselves trying to please you, trying to make you like them. I never had that. Kurt never had that. You don't understand a thing about either of us."

Kurt stared at the two of them, his eyes wide. This had taken an unexpected turn. This had always been about Will and Kurt, with Blaine caught in the cross-fire. Now, all of a sudden, Kurt had been shunted to the side, like some prize to fight over. He didn't understand.

Blaine took a step forward, leaving Kurt to stand behind him. "I don't know what it's like to be alone? Maybe not truly, physically alone. But mentally? Yes. I know what it's like to try so hard to please someone—so hard to be enough of a decent human being to hope that somebody might actually care just once—" His voice broke, and he stopped to take a deep breath before continuing. "You're shown, again and again, that it's pointless. Because that person you're trying so hard to impress… he'll never care." He stopped again, his expression dark, and looked down for a second. Kurt longed to touch him, to draw him in and hold him, but he sensed that this was something Blaine needed to say. "And—and I know how you feel, around Kurt."

Kurt stiffened. How did Will feel? He hadn't really thought about it before. Friendship, he had thought, albeit an intense one. But was it possible there was something more?

"I know how it feels when he comes into your life. Like maybe it's been raining for awhile, and then he shows up, holding an umbrella, letting you know that the bad stuff won't just disappear, but he can help it go away for awhile. I know," Blaine said, his voice dripping with sincerity. "Once you have that little bit of reprieve, you don't want to let it go. But you have to let it go." He fixed an intense gaze on Will. "You're dead. Kurt's alive. That's all you need to know to hear the end of that story."

Will held Blaine's gaze unflinchingly, his eyes cold. The lights in the choir room flickered, but Blaine didn't back down.

"I could kill you," Will said suddenly, his tone idle. "I could do it."

Kurt took a step forward and hooked his arm in Blaine's. "You wouldn't."

"I wouldn't," Will agreed. "Because it would hurt you."

"How noble of you."

"He's right, though," Will mused.

Kurt narrowed his eyes. It wasn't like Will to give up so easily.

"I still don't… I don't completely understand how this could work. But I know it could. Your—your mother told me it could."

Kurt shook his head, bewildered. "My… mother?"

"I spoke to her once, you know," Will said softly, his voice strangely compelling. "Just to let her know you were okay. She's been watching over you."

"S-she has?" Kurt asked, hating the tremble in his voice, hating how vulnerable he sounded.

"She told me to tell you she loves you, and she's proud of you."

"Why didn't you tell him before?" Blaine asked, his voice hard.

Will ignored him, and so did Kurt. All he cared about was his mom. He would take any news he could glean, no matter how unpleasant the source.

"She told me to tell you thatyYou have to follow your heart to be happy." Will paused, letting the message sink in. "I could show you, if you'd like. Just for a little bit. You can come see her, Kurt." His voice got louder, more urgent. "You can stay as long as you'd like. I won't make you leave. I can show you my world, show you what it's like for me. There are so many colors, Kurt, colors like you'd never believe. Your mom loves them."

Kurt took a step forward, unbidden. It was strange… he thought he could smell the faintest hint of his mother's perfume, a smell that only faintly permeated the dresser in her room. Will held out his hand, palm up. "Take my hand, Kurt."

Kurt took another step forward, releasing his grip on Blaine's arm. He could do it. He could see, just for a little bit. He hadn't seen his mom in so long…

"You're lying."

Kurt could hear Blaine speaking, but it was like the sound of someone talking in another room. He could make out the words, but not quite the meaning behind them.

Will glared at Blaine. "Shut up. You don't know a thing."

Kurt closed his eyes, inhaling deeply, breathing in his mother's perfume. He could still remember how it felt to be in her embrace, to feel her soft hand pushing his hair off of his forehead.

"He's lying, Kurt, look at him—he's lying, he's just trying to manipulate you!"

Kurt opened his eyes, confused. Blaine sounded so upset. Why was he so upset? Kurt was going to see his mom again.

"Don't listen to him," Will whispered, his eyes locked onto Kurt's. "Just take my hand."

Kurt's hand twitched. He started to raise his hand—


Blaine had grabbed a hold of his hand. He held it tightly, raising it up and holding it to Kurt's heart.

"Kurt, listen to me—this is you. This is us. This is real. You belong here. Right here, you and me. Just hold my hand, Kurt."

Kurt blinked, slowly feeling the warmth of Blaine's hand in his. When he took a breath, he couldn't smell his mom's perfume anymore. Just the smell of Will that he remembered, the smell of Autumn leaves and pencil shavings. He turned away from Will, stepping backward until his back was pressed against Blaine. His heart was racing, his pulse tingling as if he had taken something. What just happened?

"Why can't you just leave us alone?" Blaine was yelling. "Why can't you understand that we're happy?"

Will looked at Kurt, and Kurt could imagine that he saw all the years that Will had been alone reflected in those eyes. "I come and go where I'm needed."

Kurt knew what that was. Not a statement, but a question. A plea. He hesitated, then shook his head. "No."

Will nodded slowly, and all of a sudden, the world exploded.

Kurt felt his Blaine fly away from him as the windows in the choir room shattered. Kurt fell to his knees, a force stronger than he'd ever thought possible forcing him to the ground. His eyes watered at the whoosh of air that buffeted the room, and he closed them on instinct.

Just as suddenly, the force pressing him to the ground let up, and the wind disappeared. He opened his eyes cautiously, lifting his head from the ground just enough to peer around the room and see that Will was gone.

Something warm and sticky dripped onto Kurt's hand. Blood. He was a little surprised to see it there, but as soon as he noticed it, the pain centered itself on his cheek, demanding to be accounted for. He pressed his hand to his cheek, bringing away more blood. The choir room was sparkling under a bed of shards.

"Oh god." The words tore out of his chest with a sob.

Kurt stiffened as he felt arms surrounding his body, holding him tightly as Blaine always did to remind him that he was there to protect him. He sighed and leaned into the embrace. "Blaine… it's over, I think."

No. There was something wrong. This wasn't Blaine. The embrace was too cold, too hard. It didn't smell like hazelnut coffee creamer and Blaine's hair gel. It smelled like leaves and wind and other. Kurt twisted around frantically in the arms that held him.

Will. "Let go of me," Kurt demanded, his voice sounding braver than he felt. His eyes strayed to the ground behind Will, where Blaine was crumpled. He wasn't moving. God, no, please, no.

Will caressed his cheek, wiping the blood from his face, then released him. Kurt scrambled backward, hissing when his hands came into contact with more glass. The pain didn't matter. Getting to Blaine mattered. Blaine…

"I never wanted to hurt you," Will said morosely.

Kurt stood slowly, waiting for Will to try to stop him, but the other boy sat on the ground, staring up at Kurt with something like regret on his face. He rushed past him to Blaine, turning his face from the ground and leaning his ear against Blaine's chest.

"He's alive," Will said to the room at large, but Kurt ignored him. It wouldn't have been the first time that Will had lied to him. He kept his head on Blaine's chest, trying to calm down so he could hear a heartbeat under his own heaving breaths. There. It was there, loud and strong. Blaine was okay. Kurt slumped over, relief stealing his breath. Blaine was okay. He could deal with his other priorities now.

He turned to see Will staring at him. "Leave." He only trusted himself with short sentences; otherwise, another sob might slip out. He had to be brave now, for Blaine.

"You're scared of me," Will noted, his eyes still impossibly sad.

Kurt didn't trust him, couldn't trust him. "Leave."

"I'll have to, soon. I only have a couple minutes left, at most."

Something about the way he says it makes Kurt keep talking. "And then what?"

Will just looked at him, and Kurt knew. There wouldn't be a then after that. This had been a last-ditch effort.

"We could make things work, Kurt," Will said desperately.


"I'm not unappealing to you! I saw how you used to admire me before he showed up." Will stood up, his eyes wet.

Kurt hadn't known ghosts could cry. Ignore it. "It can't work."

Will approached him, his form flickering violently as he walked. "Come with me."

"I can't. Do you expect me to abandon my family? Blaine?"

Will's mouth trembled. "I need you," he whispered brokenly. "I love you."

Kurt shook his head. "Loving someone doesn't mean just wanting to be with them. It means wanting the best for them, even if that doesn't include you." He paused, his tone softening. "You needed someone to pay attention. I know how that feels. You wanted to be noticed. To be cared about. To feel like you matter. You do matter. You made me better. You helped me. You made me happy, and you listened to me. You made me feel wanted for the first time."

Will was quiet, staring at him, his form still wavering.

"But you don't need me, Will," Kurt continued. "Blaine needs me. Blaine is here, Blaine is solid all the time," Kurt says, reaching a finger out to brush away a tear, but Will's skin doesn't feel as solid anymore and his finger doesn't come away wet. "And as much as I needed you… I need Blaine more."

"I'm fading already," he murmured. Kurt could see him becoming more and more transparent, his form looking weaker and weaker. His eyes were lighter now than Kurt had ever seen them before.

Will opened his mouth for the last time, his lips pursing around a word, but he disappeared before it could reach Kurt.


Kurt spun around, dropping to the ground immediately as Blaine stirred and rubbed his head. "Are you okay?"

Blaine nodded groggily. "Where's—where's Will?" he mumbled.

"I think he's gone… for good," Kurt answered. He felt a pang in his chest at the realization. He wished it hadn't ended that way. He wished Will could have realized how important he was to Kurt, how much Kurt wished they had met at a different time. They could have been friends.

Blaine stiffened suddenly in Kurt's arms, his eyes losing focus.

"Blaine?" Kurt shook him, alarmed, until Blaine relaxed, his eyes losing their distance.


"Are you okay?"

Blaine nodded. "I feel—" he broke off, swallowing deeply. There was something wrong with his voice. Kurt stared at him, his heart thumping.

"What, Blaine? Tell me what's wrong!"

"I—feel—strange," Blaine ground out, a bead of sweat appearing on his forehead.

Kurt froze. He recognized something under Blaine's voice, something that should not be there.

"I don't want to leave," Blaine said, turning his head up to look at Kurt. But it was both Blaine and not Blaine. Blaine was present—Kurt could see it in the fear in his eyes, the tremor in his voice—but part of that fear belonged to someone else. Will.

"I don't want to be alone anymore." Blaine seemed to be struggling with his words, maybe because Will was getting weak, or because he was unused to speaking with another body's mouth.

"You won't be," Kurt said, trying not to sound as terrified as he felt. He took Blaine's hand in his, holding it up to his heart. "You won't be. I'm here."

"Hold me," Blaine and Will begged, and Kurt could do nothing but oblige when they spoke to him so desperately. He tugged Blaine forward, wrapping his arms around both Blaine and Will.

"What's happening?" They sounded terrified. Kurt could hear the low timbre of Blaine's voice floating in and out of the words, trading places with Will's higher pitch in a strange dance of sorts. "K-Kurt… I'm so… cold."

Kurt couldn't tell one from the other, couldn't feel where one stopped and the other began. He just held on tighter. "Shh, shh. I'm here," he babbled, adopting the same senselessly placating voice he would use on a stray cat. "I'm here, it's okay. Let go. Just let go. You can let go."

"I'm scared," Will and Blaine gasped.

"I—I know," Kurt said, letting go and leaning back so he could look them in the eye. "But you have to let go. Do you understand? You have to."

"I love you."

Kurt leaned forward and took away the pain the best way he knew how. He kissed them, hard enough to make his lips sting, and it was the taste of Blaine's chap stick and that same foreign sense of other at the same time, like he's kissing both of them at the same time. He kissed them fiercely, not even stopping for breath. He kissed them hard enough for the both of them. He kissed them so long that the coldness disappears, and when he finally pulls back, he knows that it's not them anymore, but him. Blaine.

"What—what just happened?" Blaine asked, reaching his hand up languidly to press his fingers to Kurt's cheek. He had forgotten about his wound, but it seemed to have stopped bleeding.

"What do you remember?" Kurt asked softly, his voice rough and shaky.

"I—I'm not sure," Blaine hedged. "Can we talk about it at home? I'm so cold."

Kurt studied him, but it was definitely Blaine under those eyes. He nodded, then stood, gently pulling Blaine up with him. "Let's go."

Blaine left the room first, sparing only a puzzled glance for the mess that covered the floors. Kurt wasn't sure how he was going to explain that one to Mr. Schue and Figgins the next day. Blame it on the storm, maybe.

Kurt turned his back on the windows, ready to follow Blaine out, but something made him pause. He turned back and stared outside at the grey sky just outside the choir room. He slowly approached the far wall, standing on a chair and peering outside of what used to be the window.

Outside, an eddy of wind swirled around a small tornado of colored leaves in a circle higher than the building. The leaves were vibrant colors—greens and reds and oranges mixed all together, sharing the breeze in the wrong season. He knew what it was, of course. One last goodbye, the one that they never could properly share with each other.

He raised a hand in a silent farewell, watching as the leaves danced around each other, then turned his back on the window one last time.

He left the room to follow Blaine.

To go where he was needed.