Everlasting: vii.

[michellemabelle]

Things change-not big things, although maybe they should.

The secret has been cracked open in front of Blaine and it surrounds him on every side now. But it doesn’t suddenly turn any of the Hummels into something different. Burt still fishes off the side of the dock, Carole still scolds Finn for dragging mud into the house, and Kurt is...

Kurt is still Kurt, although there really is no still about it.

The only dramatic change comes to the two of them. Not because he’ll never wrinkle or turn grey or he’s looked this way since before Blaine’s own grandparents were born-Blaine doesn’t know if it’s just easy for him to ignore or forget about, or if his brain simply can’t fully comprehend the idea of Kurt being everlasting. No, things change because it’s not just Kurt’s life that has revealed itself to Blaine, but it’s Kurt as well.

When Kurt looks at him now, there is no guard in his eyes. There is no layer of secrets between them. And when Blaine forgets how to breathe, when his heart jumps in his throat and his entire body twists and flutters, he understands. He understands, and Kurt takes his hand and makes it all right.

They still spend every moment of the day together. They walk leisurely, fingers laced, but now, Kurt will stop them, gently cup Blaine’s face, and kiss him. Kurt will kiss him because he can and Blaine always kisses back, every time, giddy with the feel of it and the breathless giggles that pass between their mouths.

If Blaine had thought his life with the Hummels had been happiness before, he really had no idea what true happiness was. He hadn’t known it was secret smiles over breakfast, Kurt’s hands pressed against his back, the way his arms felt wrapped around Kurt’s waist, the slow slide of lips and the gentle brush of eyelashes. It’s the way Kurt comes down after everyone has gone to bed and they curl up on Blaine’s tiny bench, whispering nothing and everything into the darkness with Blaine’s ear pressed to Kurt’s heart.

It’s under the quiet watch of the forest that they trade kisses and run hands over arms and shoulders and smile like they can’t do anything but smile, where Kurt sings, running fingers through Blaine’s hair as Blaine links daisies together and loops them around Kurt’s neck.

And Blaine wonders if this is what love feels like.

It’s not their secret for long. It’s waking up one morning and Kurt leading him outside, where Finn, Carole, and Burt are waiting. The air is too quiet and solemn and Kurt grips his hand tightly and Blaine can see it in all of their eyes. Carole looks at their joined hands and seems close to tears from it, smiling shakily and sadly and pressing the hem of her apron to her mouth.

“Blaine Anderson,” Burt begins, and Blaine stands still under the Hummels’ joined and watchful gazes. “You are the only person in the world who knows about us.” Blaine’s aware of the gravity of the situation, but before he can open his mouth to say as much, Burt is stepping forward. He grabs Kurt and Blaine’s joined hands and separates them, giving Kurt a stern look when he starts to protest. Blaine tries not to think of how much Kurt’s hand had been grounding him and how lost he feels without it now.

“I trust my boy’s done our story justice, but now we need to have a talk. Come on.” He grips Blaine’s shoulder and steers him away, and Blaine throws one last glance over his shoulder to see Carole wrap her arm around Kurt as Kurt sends him an encouraging, yet shaky, smile.

Burt doesn’t say anything as he leads Blaine to the dock and then gestures to the small row boat Blaine’s never set foot inside. He doesn’t question it, stepping in uneasily and trying not to become nervous at the prospect of all the deep, dark water around him. It’s quiet as Burt rows, away from the house and his family, until they’re floating, just the two of them, in the stillness of the lake.

It seems a good long while before Burt speaks, his voice low as he stares around them. The forest grows to the edges of the lake on every side and, from here, Blaine wouldn’t know in which direction they’d come from if not for the sliver of the dock.

“Beautiful, isn’t it?”

It’s not what Blaine’s expecting, but he nods, because it is.

“And it’s full of life. Every inch of it. From the ants in the ground, to the flowers and the trees, the frogs and the fish and the squirrels. There is so much life, Blaine.” Burt turns away from gazing out at the world around them and back to Blaine. The eyes that stare into his aren’t exactly like Kurt’s, but they’re that same blend of blue and green that Blaine has become so familiar with. In Kurt, they represent everything beautiful and bright, but Burt’s eyes are old, and dimmer than maybe they once were. But there’s still that sadness-the same sadness they all carry in their eyes.

“Everything is a part of the wheel, Blaine. Everything... It changes. Grows. I’ve walked through these woods for... For too long, and they’re always different now. Because that’s life. That’s you, Blaine. You’re changing and growing and you’ll keep doing just that.” Burt leans forward a bit. “But you could stop. Stop right now. You wouldn’t grow, you wouldn’t change. You’d look at your reflection every day and it’d always be the same.”

Burt sighs, rubbing at the back of his head before shaking it.

“It’s not my place, I know it ain’t. I’m not trying to... To stop you, to make your decision for you. But I have to make you understand. If you’re gonna make a decision, you need to know which you’re making.”

Blaine plucks uncomfortably at his pants. He hadn’t known it was a choice. Kurt hadn’t mentioned it-not the spring, not Blaine’s return home, not the fact that Blaine grows older every day and Kurt never changes. Right now, those changes are insignificant, small, invisible. But Blaine’s going to die one day.

“...I don’t want to die,” he whispers, clutching at his knees. “Is that so wrong?”

“No,” Burt says immediately, and it surprises Blaine. He looks up and Burt’s face is more compassionate. “No one wants to die, Blaine. Our whole lives, death is our greatest fear.” Burt clasps his hands together. “But death is a part of that wheel, Blaine. The bugs, the flowers, the trees, the frogs, people... They all live, but they all die, too. Death is... It’s the same as being born. You can’t have life without death.”

Why not? Blaine would still be living. He’d be breathing the air, seeing the world. He would have time for everything, everything he’s ever wanted to do and things he can’t even fathom yet. He’d see things change, watch the future become something bigger, something greater.

“Don’t be afraid of death, Blaine,” Burt says with conviction. “Be afraid of the unlived life.”

It’s strange to Blaine. The life he had been living, the seventeen years before he ever knew about the Hummels’ existence, hadn’t felt much like life at all. But his time here with them? It has been life. It’s been everything that Blaine has always wanted, always needed, and never knew existed. It’s family, real family, acceptance, affection, and love. In no time at all, Blaine’s entire world has spun on its axis and everything has changed. He’s changed. Parts of him that he’d buried, ignored, or never knew existed, have come out of hiding and they’re a part of him now.

He thinks of his family and of the life he’d led before. He thinks of walking with a girl on his arm under the watchful eye of a chaperone. He thinks of tea time and blazers and the clock in the parlor, ticking too loud and marking the slow passing of time.

And then he thinks of everything else. He thinks of rowdy talk and singing over dinner with the Hummels. He thinks of Carole’s sunny smiles as he helps her in the garden, and of Burt’s gruff laughter. He thinks of spending his day, every day, exactly as he pleases, running and laughing and letting every part of him burst through unfettered. He thinks of New York, London, and Paris. He thinks of Germany, Spain, and Italy. He thinks of crossing oceans and seeing the world, covering every inch of it until he’s seen all there is to see and then starting all over again.

Then Blaine thinks of Kurt.

He thinks of the way his heart fills at the sight of him. He thinks of Kurt’s smile, his laugh, his voice, the care in which he carves, the affection in his teasing, the bite of his wit, the way he loves his father and family, and the gentle way he looks at Blaine like Blaine is everything.

And maybe Blaine is young and stupid, but maybe he really is in love with this beautiful, wonderful, amazing boy and the thought of spending decades, years, months, weeks, days, even minutes without him feels suffocating.

But then he remembers the fear in Kurt’s eyes. He remembers the way Kurt’s voice broke, the way his entire world hung on whether or not Blaine thought Kurt had a sickness. The way Kurt has traveled the world looking for a place to belong and all he’s found are accusations and hate.

Blaine thinks of every girl he’s ever had tea with or talked to or smiled at, and then he thinks of Kurt, and Blaine knows. He knows that he and Kurt are the same. What does that mean for him in a life without Kurt?

They sit and don’t talk, the silence feels heavy, but Blaine has no idea how to end it. Instead, he silently takes the oars and begins to row them back to shore when Burt makes no motion to stop him. Blaine knows he has a lot to think about and it feels like there isn’t enough time for it all. Suddenly, he feels like nothing will ever be enough time.

From the far shore of the lake, their boat is tracked through the watchful eyes of binoculars.

Despite what the town of Lima might think of him, Sebastian Smythe is not that strange a man. While their simple minds might find his choice of clothing and career questionable, he finds their provincial way of life rather droll and incredibly lacking. There’s no excitement, no adventure, no thrill of the chase. Even the brief kick-up that had occurred after the young Anderson’s disappearance had not lasted long before people reverted back to their dull and monotonous lifestyles.

Sebastian doesn’t pay the town, or its people, any sort of consideration. They’re only an inconvenience of proximity, after all.

He sits, legs crossed, in the neatness of the Andersons’ front parlor with a cup of tea dutifully provided by one of the maids. It reminds Sebastian of a life that could have been his if he hadn’t decided the world would, and should, hold so much more for him. He’d never known that his great aunt would be the key to it all, however.

When the Andersons finally join him, they’re perfectly put together. They’re an immaculate pair and no one would be able to tell that their son has been missing for nearly two months or how devastated they are.

“Mr. Smythe,” Mr. Anderson says tightly as they take their seats, and Sebastian dips his head formally and smiles. “We certainly weren’t expecting you.”

“Naturally. That would have meant inviting me and, from what I’ve heard, you haven’t been entertaining as of late,” Sebastian comments pleasantly, and watches as Mr. Anderson’s shoulders stiffen and his wife’s face breaks from pleasantly neutral to incredibly hopeless. “Still no luck with your son, I take it?”

“Mr. Smythe,” Mr. Anderson snaps icily, “if you came here for the sole purpose of upsetting me and my wife, then I think it’s best if you leave.”

“Now, now, there’s no reason to be hasty.” Sebastian makes himself more comfortable on their plush couch. “I came to see you both because I have information about your son’s whereabouts.”

This draws both of their attentions, just as Sebastian had intended; he has full command of the room now, and he revels in it. He continues to sit there, calmly sipping his tea through the silence. It’s good tea.

“Well?” Mr. Anderson prompts, trying to tamper down his hope and excitement with a frown. It’s really too easy. Things couldn’t have worked out better for Sebastian if he’d planned it all himself-although he certainly wouldn’t have been stuck here quite so long if he had. But in the end, he knows it was all worth it; after all, he’s been given the perfect bartering tool. Amazing what parents will do for their children.

“Come now, Mr. Anderson. You’re a businessman.” Sebastian folds his fingers together. “Certainly you know that something isn’t given for nothing.”

“Why you horrible-”

“Grace.” Mr. Anderson sets his hand on his wife’s shoulder and she sits back, but the look of pure hatred doesn’t leave her face. “What do you want, Mr. Smythe? Money isn’t an issue. We will pay you handsomely, and reward you when Blaine is found.”

“I don’t want your money, Mr. Anderson.” Sebastian cocks his head to the side and grins, as if he’s dealing with a particularly dense child rather than a man nearly three times his senior. He has to wonder how many times Mr. Anderson has been told that his money has no worth; from the look of shock on his face, Sebastian would guess it’s not very often.

“Please,” Mr. Anderson’s voice drops low and desperate, his wife clutching as his hand.

“You own the woods, do you not?” Sebastian asks casually, watching as confusion flickers across Mr. Anderson’s face.

“Yes, of course, but I-”

“The deed,” Sebastian states, plainly. “I would like the deed to those woods.”

Mr. Anderson still doesn’t seem able to process what exactly is going on, but Mrs. Anderson is quick to nod. When her husband still seems confused, she hisses a pointed, “Michael.”

“Right. Of course,” Mr. Anderson says and Sebastian revels in the sweetness of his inevitable victory. “It... It will take a few hours to draw up the documents, have them signed.”

“No rush. Your son is just in the hands of some rather dangerous people until it’s done.” Sebastian sips his tea again, neutrally.

“Tomorrow. I’ll have them for you tomorrow morning,” Mr. Anderson says, and Sebastian can tell he wishes there were a way to have them right at that moment. He’d like that, too, so that this game he’s been playing for years can finally come to an end. But he can be patient, if the prize is worth it, and it is.

“Then I’ll meet you here tomorrow morning. You show me the documents, I show you your son. And when he’s back in your arms, that forest is mine.” Sebastian holds out his hand and Mr. Anderson grasps it.

“You have a deal.”

They don’t ask Blaine to make a decision. Kurt asks him about the conversation he had with Burt, but Blaine just shakes his head. He doesn’t know how to talk about it, what he should say, or even what he wants. He needs time, but it turns out time is exactly what he doesn’t have. Shortly after they’d come back from their talk, Burt had announced it was time for them to move on and for Blaine to go home.

He’d felt like crying.

“We won’t go far,” Kurt promises that night, holding Blaine close and tracing his hand up and down Blaine’s back. They’re lying on Kurt’s bed, a cotton-stuffed mattress that is thin, homemade, and not incredibly comfortable, but it’s better than Blaine’s bench, and they’re actually alone. Finn had made a point of settling on the couch for the night, after sharing a significant look with Kurt, and thus giving them the best gift they could have asked for: privacy.

It isn’t the first time that Blaine’s been up here, but it’s the first time he won’t be slipping out of Kurt’s sleeping arms and going to bed by himself a floor below. The space doesn’t speak much of Kurt, except for a chest in which Kurt keeps his few belongings.

“We travel too much,” Kurt had explained. “Even after eighty years, it doesn’t give me a lot of time to accumulate things.”

Blaine nods, eyes closing as Kurt’s fingers thread through his curls.

“Don’t sleep yet,” Kurt hisses and Blaine smiles.

“I’m not.”

Kurt pecks him quickly and playfully on the lips and Blaine melts further into his arms.

“We’ll be going further into the woods,” Kurt continues to explain. “It’s too dangerous here now. Your father’s gotten too close. It wouldn’t be long before we were found if we didn’t leave.” Blaine nods. He understands, he does, he just wishes things could be different. He wishes he could go, too. He wishes he could disappear with these people he’s come to love. But he also understands why he can’t. As long as he’s missing, his parents will keep looking, and the Hummels will be driven further and further away from him.

“I’ll write you letters,” Kurt promises. “Until your parents let you outside again.”

Blaine snorts. He has no idea what will happen to him when he gets home. With how badly he had misbehaved, he knows his parents would have to be feeling particularly gracious to allow him past the front door.

“When they trust you to go into the woods again, I’ll come see you,” Kurt promises and Blaine squeezes his eyes shut tight. The thought of not seeing Kurt every day aches-a big, gaping, empty hole that he wants to push his hands against, as if that would stop it from hurting him. “You remember the way to the spring, right?”

Blaine nods. Kurt had shown him, had led him carefully and pointed out landmarks. They’d stood there, in the place where they had met, and Blaine had kissed Kurt so hard they’d nearly fallen over.

“Good.” Kurt kisses his forehead and they fall silent, clinging to each other. Kurt lets out a shuddery breath and Blaine’s eyes flicker open as he pulls back, watching tears slip from Kurt’s closed eyes.

“Shhh, no, no.” Blaine quickly shifts them, pillowing Kurt’s head on his chest and holding him tightly. He feels pressure behind his own eyes and fights the urge to cry. Kurt needs him and he won’t cry, even if this does feel like goodbye.

“I feel like I’ve been looking for you forever,” Kurt admits quietly, looking up at Blaine with glassy eyes that reflect the moonlight. “And now I finally found you, and-”

“I know,” Blaine agrees, brushing his hand down Kurt’s wet cheek. “But you’re not going to lose me.” Kurt’s smile wavers and Blaine kisses him gently. They stay close, noses touching as they breathe together.

“Kurt?” Blaine whispers, what feels like hours later. “Are you awake?”

Kurt hums, but Blaine can tell that he’s almost asleep. He smiles, brushing his lips to Kurt’s hairline.

“I want to give you something.”

This seems to catch Kurt’s attention and his eyes flutter open; Blaine takes a moment to admire the gentle, sleep-heavy smile that Kurt aims at him and ducks down to kiss him.

“Was that my something?” Kurt asks, his voice slow and sleepy and Blaine chuckles, rubbing their noses together as he shakes his head.

“No,” Blaine says for good measure, and then reaches for his trousers, which are folded on the floor not far away. Kurt lifts himself up, rubbing at his eyes with the sleeve of his shirt and watching Blaine curiously as he fishes in his pocket.

“My father will probably kill me, but...” Blaine turns back, his hands cupped and he lays beside Kurt again. “It was my grandfather’s, and my father’s after that, and it’s been mine since I was ten.” He opens his hands, fingers brushing against the silver casing and popping open the top.

“A pocket watch?” Kurt asks quietly, looking at it. He reaches out, brushing his own fingers on the cool metal and tracing the contours. It’s rather plain, lacking any real ornamentation, and it’s heavy when Kurt picks it up, the chain sliding smoothly through his fingers. Kurt looks at Blaine, eyebrows drawn in confusion.

“Would you take it with you?” Blaine asks, curling Kurt’s hands over it. It’s not much, and he knows it. It doesn’t even say a lot about him, but it’s the only thing he has, the only part of him that he has to give, and it’ll have to do. “Just... Just until we’re together again, so you always have a piece of me with you.”

Kurt stares at Blaine, holding the timepiece in his hands like it’s precious. Blaine imagines that it’s his heart, and maybe Kurt’s pretending that it is, too. But then Kurt is getting up quickly, stumbling as he untwists himself from the quilt that had been draped across them and heads for his chest. He’s still cupping the pocket watch, pressing it right against his heart.

“Kurt?” Blaine asks unsurely and when Kurt stumbles back, his face is flushed and he’s clutching something else.

He reaches for Blaine’s hand and presses a soft, dainty piece of smooth, white fabric into his fingers. It takes Blaine a moment to recognize what it is, his thumb and forefinger working the cloth back and forth, but even then he’s looking up at Kurt and trying to understand.

“That handkerchief was my mother’s,” Kurt tells him quietly. “Well, technically, it’s mine, but she made it for me.” He unfurls the cloth against Blaine’s palm, fingers tracing over the designs of florals and leaves. “After all these years, it’s one of the only things I have that’s mine, that has been everywhere with me.”

It’s so much more than Blaine’s silly pocket watch, but he doesn’t say anything as Kurt secures it in his hand.

“Now you’ll always have a piece of me with you, too.”



They only take the essentials; Kurt tells Blaine that this isn’t the first time they’ve had to move.

“We have houses hidden in all sorts of places,” he says. “It’s helpful when your pa can make furniture as long as there are trees around.”

They don’t tell Blaine exactly where they’re going, and he understands. Burt’s probably aware that Blaine would just come and find them sooner than he should, and lead the town back on their trail. They trust Blaine, but there are still some risks that are too dangerous to take.

He helps them, as much as it saddens him. But Kurt is working right next to the rest of them and if doing chores means Blaine can be by Kurt just those few moments longer, he’ll take it. He doesn’t think about the fact that, in a few hours, he’ll be home again. He can hardly remember what his clothes looked like all that time ago, and has since had old things of Kurt and Finn’s cut and mended to fit him. His hair is a wild mane and he hasn’t had a proper bath (in a tub rather than a creek or pool, with soap the servants buy rather than make) in ages. He’ll be surprised if his parents don’t throw him in a cage the moment they see him.

Blaine can’t stop himself from smiling every time he sees the sun glint off the chain of the pocket watch, his pocket watch, where it’s tucked into Kurt’s pocket. And, every so often, Kurt will stop and press his hand to Blaine’s heart, right where the handkerchief is safely tucked away.

It’s late morning when they finish and Blaine stands beneath the tree and stares at the house in silent sadness.

“Will you miss it?” Kurt whispers into his ear as he comes up behind Blaine. Blaine leans back instinctively, feeling Kurt’s arms loop around his waist and Kurt’s chin tuck over his shoulder. He doesn’t say anything, doesn’t need to-Kurt knows the answer.

“I’ll see it again someday, won’t I?”

Kurt nods and Blaine feels relief. It’s strange how attached he’s become to this cabin in the middle of the woods, but he has. He’ll miss the carvings in the wood and the smell of baking bread and the sound of someone chopping wood. Blaine closes his eyes and tries to imprint every single thing into his memory, but he knows he’ll forget it all too soon.

“Boys,” Burt calls in warning and they know what it means. It’s time for them to say their goodbyes.

Blaine spins in Kurt’s arms and hugs him tightly, crushing their bodies together as much as possible. He breathes Kurt in-the smell of trees and earth, of wood and bread-and revels in the way Kurt’s body feels against his, the press of his hands, the brush of his eyelashes, and commits every single thing to memory.

“I don’t want to say goodbye,” Blaine whispers, his voice cracking, and Kurt pulls back, catching Blaine’s chin in his hand and smiling sadly at him.

“It’s not goodbye,” Kurt promises. “I’m never saying goodbye to you.” He tips Blaine’s chin up carefully and kisses him, gently at first and then harder, their hands turning desperate as they cling to one another.

“Well.”

Blaine and Kurt snap apart, turning with wide eyes as a stranger steps out of the trees.

“I hadn’t been expecting that.”

Blaine stares at him with squinted eyes. He doesn’t notice the flurry of movement from the other Hummels, climbing down from the cart and hurrying towards them. Blaine can’t look away from the man, can’t understand why there’s something so familiar about him.

“Mr. Anderson, you have made your parents very worried.”

Blaine shuffles back a step and Kurt wraps his arms around him tightly, protectively. The man is wearing a yellow suit, and Blaine swears he’s seen it before.

“It’s you,” Kurt spits, and Blaine startles, looking up at Kurt in confusion.

“I’m touched you remember me,” the man grins, walking forward with a confident swagger in his step. “But I don’t believe we’ve been properly introduced. I know that you’re the Hummels, and it seems a shame you don’t know who I am.”

He extends his hand, but none of the Hummels, or Blaine, go to take it.

“I’m Sebastian Smythe.” When he realizes that no one plans on shaking his hand, he retracts it with a dismissive and uncaring shrug. No one says anything, and Sebastian sighs out of boredom. “How very rude. None of you have even asked me why I’m here.” He turns his dark eyes on Blaine again. “Not even you, Blaine Anderson, and I thought your parents raised you better.”

Blaine recoils, disappointment building on his shoulders, and Kurt moves in front of him.

“Leave him alone,” he snarls, and Sebastian grins in amusement.

“Isn’t that cute.” Sebastian cocks his head to the side. “Really, Blaine Anderson. What will your parents think? What will they do when they find out what you are?”

“Stop it!” Kurt yells, and Blaine tries to breathe.

“If you have no business here,” Burt steps in, frowning. “I suggest you move on.”

“Oh, no, I certainly have business here. You see, Mr. Anderson’s parents have sent me to collect him. And, of course, to capture the horrible people responsible for his disappearance.” Sebastian frowns at them in a mocking way.

“We were just taking Blaine home-” Burt begins, but Sebastian shakes his head.

“I don’t think the police will believe that, do you?” Sebastian turns his head, looking past the cabin at the forest on the other side. “Correct me if I’m mistaken, but that sounds like dogs.”

Blaine can hear it: the sharp barking of dogs and blowing of whistles in the woods. He sees the Hummels shrink back, caged, and can feel Kurt trembling beside him. He’s about to offer comfort, assure the Hummels that he’ll explain that he wasn’t kidnapped, that he ran, surely he can get his parents to listen-when his arm is tugged on violently and he’s pulled from the safety of Kurt’s side.

He gasps in pain and the next moment, his back is pressed to Sebastian’s chest, an arm locked around his chest and the cold barrel of a gun pressed to his temple. Blaine feels his breathing turn short and sharp, eyes moving wildly until he finds Kurt, who is immediately rushing towards him despite Burt shouting at him to stop.

It happens in an instant. The gun fires and Kurt falls to his knees, clutching his stomach.

“KURT!” Blaine lurches forward, struggles, wants to get away. No. The tears start and he yells Kurt’s name again and again, trying to get to his side, when Kurt lifts his head.

Blaine stops moving, body frozen as he watches Kurt stand up. There isn’t even blood on his shirt. Blaine stares and Kurt hesitantly meets his eyes. There’s no way to ignore it now, no way to deny what his brain has been trying to suppress.

Kurt can’t die.

He looks away from Blaine and whatever he sees there in his eyes.

“Fascinating,” Sebastian breathes. “You know, I never quite believed the stories, but there’s no denying a truth like that.” The gun presses back to Blaine’s temple and he closes his eyes and feels himself shake violently.

He could die. He could die any second. He won’t stand up again the way Kurt did. His life could end, right at this moment.

“Now, let’s stop playing games, shall we? The police will be here soon and I’m sure you’d rather not be here when they arrive, hmm?” Sebastian’s voice is too pleasant as he threatens them. “Take me to the spring.”

Blaine freezes and his eyes snap open, only to see his own shock reflected back on four other faces.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Burt says plainly, and Sebastian laughs coldly. There’s a click as he cocks the hammer of the gun and presses it more firmly into Blaine’s skin.

“I’m not asking again.” All humor and amusement is gone from his voice, and Blaine can feel tears falling from his eyes. He can see Kurt, standing there and looking helpless, his own tears streaming down his face. He’s mouthing words, slow and deliberate, and Blaine tries to concentrate on them rather than the press of iron to his face.

You’ll be okay, it’s going to be okay, I promise we’ll get you out of this.

“I have to ask,” Burt says carefully, eying the gun warily. “How exactly did you hear about us?”

“Can you not hear the dogs?” Sebastian asks, annoyed, but he sighs. “It’s a funny story, really. I have this old great aunt, a real droll woman, but she spent her younger years working in an insane asylum. She loved to tell me this story about this woman, you see. A woman who would babble on and on about this family in Ohio, people who talked about a magical spring that made them young forever.” He pauses. “What was the song my aunt would hum for me? Oh yes! I remember.”

And Sebastian starts to whistle. Blaine’s eyes widen as he recognizes the tune immediately, eyes locked on Kurt. It’s Kurt’s song, the one he whistles and hums every day. And then Blaine looks at Finn and sees all the pain written on his face.

Because only one other person ever knew of the Hummels’ secret.

But the whistle triggers something else in Blaine and he gasps.

“It’s you!” He cries in surprise.

“Oh, Mr. Anderson, lovely to see you recognize me at last.”

“Recognize?” Kurt repeats, brokenly.

“I knew it!” Finn yells, face turning angry. “I knew we couldn’t trust him!”

“Now, don’t go giving Mr. Anderson the credit. He’s just a convenient bartering tool in the wrong place at the wrong time. After all, you’re the one who led me back here to your little family,” Sebastian sneers in Finn’s direction. Finn balks, stumbling backwards and staring at Sebastian in horror. “Really, getting drunk and causing a scene in town. Did you think no one would notice you then?”

The Hummels don’t speak and Sebastian lets out another frustrated sigh. Blaine cries in pain as the gun is pressed even more forcefully into his skin.

“Stop it!” Kurt cries.

“Gladly. Just lead me to the spring. Or... You can all go to jail for Mr. Anderson’s murder.”

There’s a sharp gasp in Blaine’s ear, and then Sebastian is crumpling to the ground behind him, clutching at Blaine’s waistcoat. The gun falls to the ground and Kurt is quick to run forward and kick it away from Sebastian’s reach, but it proves unnecessary. When Blaine turns around, Sebastian is gasping and staring up at him with glazed over eyes.

And then his fingers loosen and his breathing stops and his eyes grow dim and Blaine sees Carole standing there, tears streaming down her face, holding a shovel tipped in blood.

“Carole,” Blaine says, quiet and shakily, and she’s dropping the shovel, hands pressed to her mouth as she shakes her head and stares at Sebastian’s lifeless body.

“Blaine.”

He looks up and Kurt is pulling him up and away from Sebastian, holding him close, petting at his hair, his shoulders, his arms, his face, and especially over the bruise forming on his temple.

“You’re okay, you’re okay, you’re safe.”

Blaine clings to him, shaking, nearly choking on his tears.

“Kurt,” Burt says, and they both look at him. “You need to-”

“There they are!” An unknown voice calls from somewhere down the shore of the lake.

“Finn!” Burt calls, and he comes jogging over. “Take Kurt, you need to go.”

“No!” Kurt gasps, hands clinging to Blaine.

“But Burt, you and Ma-”

“You need to go, or none of us are going to get away. Kurt, go!”

“But Blaine-!”

Blaine feels Burt’s arm curl over his arm the same time that Finn grabs at Kurt. They’re broken apart and Finn is pushing Kurt up onto Hutch.

“I can’t just leave him!” Kurt insists, trying to climb off, but then Finn is behind him and they’re riding away.

“Kurt!”

No. No, it can’t end this way. This can’t be it.

“Blaine!”

And then they’re gone, too far away and disappearing into the cover of the trees. Blaine falls to his knees, staring after them, his throat thick as the tears continue to fall from his eyes. Burt’s no longer there restraining him, but Blaine knows that no matter how fast he could run, he’d never catch up. He looks around weakly and sees Carole, curled in on herself and sobbing, and he crawls towards her, dragging dirt and mud over the knees of his trousers.

“Carole,” he whispers and she looks up, her mouth moving as more sobs escape and he hugs her fiercely. “It’s okay, it’s okay,” he hushes. “Thank you,” he says. “You saved my life, thank you, thank you.”

“Mr. Anderson!”

Blaine looks up to see Sheriff Pierce running towards him, and right behind him-

“Blaine!” His father rushes towards him and pulls him away from Carole. She’s silent now, tears still falling, and she doesn’t look at him as he’s wrapped in his father’s arms. Blaine can’t remember the last time his father hugged him this way, if his father has ever hugged him this way, and he can hardly force himself to hug back.

He sees Sheriff Pierce head into the cabin and can hear the other men seizing Carole. When Burt walks out of the house, hands up, smoke is trailing out of the door and windows, and Blaine feels his tears start fresh again.

He watches with glassy eyes as the Hummels’ cabin goes up in flames.

i. ii. iii. iv. v. vi. vii. viii.