Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

The second act was starting.

Kurt cracked the kinks out of his knuckles before crawling between the stands and settling into his usual place underneath the second and third rows on the left hand side. It was usually less-populated with the circus-goers so he was less likely to be dowsed in popcorn or soda. 

He sat quietly through Santana's contortionist routine waiting for the second performance impatiently. He smiled slightly when the lights dimmed after she'd taken her bow and the crowd grew very silent. 

There was the sound of a match striking and suddenly a ring of fire appeared around the circus sands. A lone figure stood in the middle, wearing only black pants that tied well above his ankles. 

Blaine grabbed hold of two torches and lit them in the fire, before grabbing a third and juggling them with ease, his bare chest gleaming golden orange in the firelight.

Kurt leaned forward, his eyes widening in awe as he watched Blaine manipulate the flickering fire into a spectacular light show.

He drank some sort of liquid from a bottle, his entire body arching back like a bow as his cheeks bulged before he snapped forward and blew all of the liquid out of his mouth and into the torch in his hand, causing a giant river of fire to reach out and lick playfully at the audience. 

And all too soon, all the fire went out until there was a single match that Blaine held over his head that provided the barest hint of light. Blaine tilted his head up to look at it curiously before blowing and the tent was bathed with darkness.

Cheers filled the air and Kurt smiled as he crawled through the stands back to the waiting area so he could relax until the final bows.

***

It had been a good night overall and the crowd had loved them. It was Kurt's turn for clean-up so he found himself in the tent after hours sweeping up all the excess popcorn.

He was about to go to bed when he paused. There had been a move earlier that he'd messed up and he should really practice it tonight because there was an afternoon show tomorrow and he probably wouldn't have time in the morning...

With a sigh, he pulled the chord by the back of the tent that released the silks from the ceiling. He'd shucked off his costume before cleaning, but he was able to tie up his pants and strip down to his undershirt. He stretched his hands high above his head and cracked his back before running his fingers across the nearest silk and bunching it in his hand, taking off running until he was able to glide in the air.

He lost himself in the movement, arms straining familiarly as he reached out and grabbed another, sailing smoothly through the sea green and lavender and periwinkle streams, releasing air slowly in and out of his nose. Climbing higher and higher, until he could get a perfect view of all the stands within the tent, he created a slip knot for himself to stand in, looking down on the tent. One of his rolls earlier hadn't been up to par and he should--

There was a loud ripping noise from above him.

Kurt looked up in alarm as he saw that the silk he was on was half-torn from it's holding. But that was impossible unless someone cut it off--

The entire cloth tore. 

Kurt let out a sharp gasp, his scream slamming in his chest and refusing to come out of his throat as he was suddenly falling through the air. He reached out blindly, grabbing ahold of fabric and gripping tight, the weight of his body causing his hands drag against it, unable to slow himself and he was coming at the ground way too fast--

He slammed into something that most definitely wasn't the ground and all the breath was knocked out of him.

Blaine. Blaine was standing there, still in his costume from earlier, red and gold makeup yet to be washed off his eyes. 

Blaine had caught him.

"Kurt, are you okay?" he asked quietly as he set Kurt on his feet.

Kurt breathed heavily. "I...I think so, I--" He hissed as he looked down at his hands which were red and raw from trying to grab hold on one of the silks. 

"You're hurt," Blaine murmured, gently holding his wrists. "We have to get you to Emma."

"Okay," Kurt nodded slowly, still rattled.

Blaine put a gentle hand on his back and led him out of the tent. 

Chapter Text

“You really don’t have to do this,” Kurt muttered as he gingerly perched on Blaine’s bed, taking in his surrounding with wide eyes. He’d never been in Blaine’s tent before and it was like a furnace explosion. Candles everywhere, matchboxes crammed into every nook and cranny, red, orange and yellow paper lanterns hanging from the roof of the tent. 

“Nonsense,” Blaine said, digging through the top drawer of his small dresser haphazardly before extracting bandage clothes and ointment. “It’s my fault, I forgot that Emma left tonight to go out with the others.” He knelt in front of Kurt and took his wrists gently, looking at the silk burns.

“Do uh…do you know what you’re doing?” Kurt asked awkwardly.

Blaine huffed in amusement. “I’ve seen a fair share of burns in my time, Kurt. Granted, they’re usually from fire, not fabric…”

Kurt nodded, his eyes immediately flashing down to the tattoo that morphed into a burn across Blaine’s chest.

Being a member of the New Directions Circus, each member had to have a tattoo to signify their allegiance. Kurt had gotten his done six months prior when he first joined—an outlined pattern of iridescent feathers and scales and swirls across his shoulder blades and dripping down his back because Brittany had told him that he looked like a fish-bird when he was up in the silks and the image had resonated with him.

Blaine had been apart of New Directions for nearly a year before Kurt had joined, and his tattoo was a large menacing black dragon crawling over his right shoulder—the back half trailing down his back, the wings arching across his shoulder blades and right arm, claws digging into his collarbone, and the head resting on his chest, red eyes flashing gold and orange in the light and mouth opened wide in a roar, shooting out flames.

But instead of tattooed flames, it was a giant burn scar that cut diagonally across Blaine’s chest.

Kurt had never had the courage to ask how he’d gotten it.

Blaine gently smoothed the burn ointment on Kurt’s palms before wrapping them gently. “This should do it…” he murmured. “But you might have to take tomorrow off.”

“But I’m set to open,” Kurt protested.

“Kurt, you can’t perform with these hands. And besides, we have to replace your silk that tore. How did that even happen anyways? In your six months here, I’ve never seen you fall once.”

“I don’t know, it tore…” Kurt said distractedly as he tried to avoid Blaine’s intent hazel eyes. “It shouldn’t have, not unless someone cut it…wait, you watch me perform?”

“You think someone tried to sabotage you?” Blaine asked, his eyes growing dark.

“Well maybe not that far,” Kurt backtracked. “They could have—”

“Kurt, stop,” Blaine snapped suddenly. “Sabotage isn’t a joke. It’s dangerous and it can get people hurt!”

Kurt was taken aback by Blaine’s sudden outburst and he almost missed his eyes flickering down for a half second, but he caught it. Blaine had glanced down at his own chest.

Kurt looked at the burn scar and felt an chill run down his spine. “I…we can bring it up with Will in the morning?” It came out as a question.

Blaine shook his head slightly, blinking. “I—sure. Um…just come here before you do because I want to talk with him as well.”

“Okay,” Kurt nodded, fiddling with the ends of his bandages.

“I’ll—I’ll walk you to your tent,” Blaine said, standing suddenly.

Kurt followed him out and into the cool spring night. The lights of the circus were mostly dimmed and most of everyone was heading to bed or coming back from the bars.

Blaine opened the flap to Kurt’s pale blue tent.

Kurt smiled in thanks. “Good night.”

“I do watch you perform.”

Kurt turned back in surprise to see Blaine silhouetted against the circus, his tangled curly hair catching the last of the electric lights. 

“You’re very good. And you look amazing when you’re flying through the silks.”

“Thank you,” Kurt said quietly.

“Sweet dreams, Kurt.”

The flap fell shut. 

Chapter Text

Kurt hissed as Emma rubbed the disinfectant over his cheek and neck, wincing as it cleaned out the cuts.

“You’ve had a knack for finding trouble this week, haven’t you?” Emma murmured quietly as she gently moved the cotton ball over his skin.

“I think that trouble’s been finding me,” Kurt grimaced as she pulled neat little bandaids out of medical kit and smoothing them cleanly over Kurt’s cuts.

“Anyways,” she sighed. “Those should heal up by the time your palms do as well. There might still be a little discoloration from the bruises around your eye, but it can be covered by makeup next time you perform.”

“Sure thing,” Kurt nodded as he moved to leave the tent.

“And Kurt?”

He turned, eyebrow raised.

A worried smile tugged her lips. “Try to make your next six days of sick leave a little less eventful.” 

Kurt nodded before leaving and heading back to his tent. He turned on his small little dim chandelier made out of silvery blue blown glass buoys and white lights that hung from the peak of his tent and settled against his cool silky pillows, rolling up in the little next he had of blankets and pillows in lieu of a proper bed—this one was much easier to disassemble when they moved towns. 

He was on the brink of sleep when his tent flap was shoved aside and someone walked in.

“What the hell happened?”

Kurt sat up, rubbing his eyes and stifling a yawn as he saw Blaine wearing red clay pants and a cream colored peasant shirt, arms crossed. “What?”

Blaine moved forward, leaning down to tilt Kurt’s head in the dim blue light, examining the cuts and nasty bruises around the left half of his face and neck. “Jesse said you’d gone to Emma looking half-battered. What. Happened.”

Kurt licked the space between his lips to part them, glancing down. “It doesn’t matter—”

“Of course it does!” Blaine snapped. “Was it someone here? The same person who sabotaged you silks—”

“We don’t know if anyone sabotaged my silks!” Kurt fired back.”That was just you jumping to conclusions and for your information, this happened because of a couple of neanderthals in town.” He gestured to his face.

Blaine’s brow furrowed. “Why—”

“Seriously, Blaine?” Kurt snorted. “Why did the high school jocks attack one of the freak carnies? We all can’t look like…” He gestured to Blaine. “…that.”

“What are you talking about?”

“No one would see you in the street and try to mess with you,” Kurt sighed. “But they see me and…it doesn’t even matter that I dropped out, high school never ends. It’s always going to be the freaks running away from the jocks so they don’t get thrown in the dumpster.”

Blaine held Kurt’s chin suddenly and tilted it up, forcing him to make eye contact. “Not anymore.”

“Blaine—”

“No,” Blaine shook his head. “Not anymore. We’re a family, Kurt. You might not have clued into that because you’ve been with us for the shortest period of time, but we look out for our own.”

Kurt hesitated before nodding slowly. 

“And the first rule is that you always go into town with at least one other person. We never split up. We always make sure that there’s someone watching out for us, okay?”

“Okay,” Kurt said quietly.

Blaine gave a nod before releasing Kurt’s chin. “Good. I—you should get some rest then.”

But before he could straighten up, Kurt leaned over and gave him a brief hug. 

Blaine jerked back suddenly and Kurt blinked in surprise, before embarrassment flooded through him.

“Sorry, I—”

“I should go,” Blaine said abruptly before turning and whipping out of the tent, leaving Kurt to sit alone, wondering what he’d done wrong.

Chapter Text

Blaine sat in front of his mirror, one leg hiked up on his rickety vanity as he tightly bound the fabric around the end of his pant leg at mid-calf, tying it tightly. He slid his leg off the table before pulling off his tank top and leaning forward to apply his stage makeup to his left eye. Black liner. Thick gold liner to accent it. Dark red to highlight. 

“You’re up first, Blaine,” Mike said as he passed off the schedule. 

Blaine frowned, glancing at it. “Why?”

“Because Kurt can’t open tonight, remember? He’s on sick leave.”

Blaine sighed handing the schedule back to Mike. “Alright.”

“Don’t forget to pull the rope for the trapezes as you head out, because Britt and I are right after you.”

“Sure sure,” Blaine nodded as he started rubbing softened beeswax over his arms, waving Mike off.

He waited until the sounds of Mike’s footsteps had receded before leaning heavily against his vanity.

Kurt. He should probably go and check up on him after the show, but…

He sighed in frustration as he finished preparing. He couldn’t be thinking about Kurt right now, he had to get into his headspace. This was it, what he’d always wanted to be when he was younger—a performer. He’d never thought that this would be the way that he’d go about it, but it somehow made sense in the end.

He tucked a matchbox into the waistband of his pants and grabbed his torches and staff, heading around the back of the main tent.

Blaine had always loved the circus when he was younger. Despite growing up in a family as straight-laced blue blood conservative as one could get in Westerville, Ohio, Blaine had always had a keen fascination for the different, the bizarre, the other—probably because he never quite felt like he fit in at the stifled country club gatherings that his parents always made him attend.

So when his older brother Cooper had taken him to the circus when he was nine, he’d fallen in love.

Especially with the fire troupe. 

He’d sat through the entire show, eyes wide as he watched the five men move in perfect synchronicity together as they juggled, twirled, and breathed fire.

That night he’d gone home and hoarded all the matchboxes he could find in his room.

Blaine blinked as the roar of the crowd suddenly filled his ears and Mercedes’ voice boomed through the tent, talking them all up, lights flashing over the audience and giving Blaine enough time in the dark to arrange his torches around the sand, taking his place in the middle.

Her voice reached a crescendo and he plucked a matchstick out from it’s box, ready to scratch.

***

The show had been a success and Blaine had flashed the audience a grin as he gripped Mike and Jesse’s hands on either side of him, the whole company taking their bows.

They raced back outside to their changing tent, high off of the crowd’s energy and everyone stripping around each other haphazardly.

“Drinks?” Mike offered, but it was more out of habit now—Blaine always refused.

Blaine shot him an apologetic grin and opened his mouth, prepared to decline when he saw Kurt edging his way into the tent and panicked. 

“Sure.”

Mike’s eyebrows shot up. “Wait, really?”

“Sure,” Blaine repeated with a nod. “I need to let loose a little.”

“Alright!” Mike grinned, cupping him on the shoulder. “Hey, Sam! Blaine’s coming out with us!”

Blaine grinned and played along as he changed, studiously avoiding Kurt, grateful for the excuse to go out.

Because when you’re trying to avoid a sixteen year old, the bar seemed like the ideal place. 

Chapter Text

“I like it when you bend yourself into a yummy pretzel like that. Can I eat you?”

Santana looked up in surprise to see a blonde girl standing in front of her, about her age. “What?”

“You’re making my tummy all rumbly,” the girl said, bringing a hand up to rub her stomach.

Santana blinked, slowly bringing her left leg out from behind her neck. Usually she had a snappy comeback for anyone who wanted to screw with her, but she honestly couldn’t tell if this girl was making fun or not. “Maybe you should go and eat something.”

The girl smiled suddenly and it lit up her whole face.

Santana swallowed loudly.

“Sure! I think I will!” The girl walked off before turning abruptly. “Oh. I’m Brittany.”

Santana nodded at her. “Santana.”

“Nice to meet you, Santana. I’m glad that we’re friends.” Then Brittany turned and walked out of the tent.

Santana stared after her, scoffing, “Friends.” before going back to her stretch routines. 

***

~Two years later (present day)~

Santana pulled both of her arms over her head and bent over backwards, twisting sharply to crack her entire spine before straightening up. 

“You know that’s bad for you,” Blaine remarked, retying the fabric bands around the bottom of his pants.

“Oh, go burn something, Anderson,” Santana snarked back as she pulled her long hair into a high ponytail. “Contortion is bad for me period, I’m pretty sure I won’t drop dead from a spine crack.”

“Knock on wood,” Blaine smirked.

“Go fuck yourself,” Santana rolled her eyes. “Or Hummel, whatever.”

“What?” he spluttered, dropping the box of matches from his waistband.

She smirked as she walked through the back flap of the main tent, leaving him to ponder about how she knew of his way-too-obvious-seriously-you-stare-at-him-every-time-he’s-in-the-room crush on Kurt as she tucked herself into the odd right-angle space along the back-stand display that only she could contort her body to fit and settled back as she watched Mike and Brittany up high as they flipped and flew together on their trapeze. Santana crossed her arms and nestled her head on them, a rare soft smile that was always reserved for only Brittany gracing her face as she let the soothing sight of her silver-clad girlfriend flitting through the air like a humming bird. 

Santana sat there through the whole routine, and she felt completely at peace. 

Chapter Text

“What am I even doing here again?” Kurt sighed, twisting his wrists and cracking them.

“Strength in numbers,” Santana replied breezily as she plastered up a poster of Jesse, his hands stretched over his head, about to flick his two knives. “Plus we needed someone to sit in the car and make sure it didn’t get vandalized again.”

Kurt nodded as he reclined in the rusty pickup, watching Brittany, Santana, and Joe hanging posters for their circus on a vast expanse of brick wall on the side of a hardware building. One of Mike and Brittany in their respective dark gray and silver costumes, their tattoos exaggerated on their backs with the wings coming off of their skin and extending outwards.

There was one of Santana, body folded into a pretzel, the long viridian serpent that was tattooed down her spine twisting and curving off of her body in its own contortions. 

One of Kurt mid-leap between silks, aquatic wings glimmering off his shoulders and his forearms and calves glittering with iridescent fish scales. 

One of Blaine holding a palmful of fire and blowing it outwards, his dragon tattoo crawling further down his chest to blow fire over his torso. 

Sam finger-walking with the sun on his left hipbone shooting golden rays across the poster.

Mercedes singing into her glass bottles that shot her voice around at different pitches through the tent, the violet flowers on her wrists twisting into the plum and bronze echoes of her vocal chords. 

Joe twirling two staffs at high speed, causing his shirt to billow up and reveal the bible quotes he had inked into his chest as they dripped and bled down his torso. 

Kurt stared at the odd assortment of colors and creatures and symbols across the wall. It was a marvel in itself that the posters didn’t clash and Blaine’s words echoed in his mind.

They were…a family.

Kurt smiled softly. Family. He kind of liked the sound of that. 

***

“Ah hell,” Santana groaned, snapping her phone shut.

“Who was that?” Joe asked, piling their cans of glue and paintbrushes into the back of the pickup. 

“Cedes,” Santana sighed. “Apparently Jesse and Sam got into some drinking competition and they’re passed out drunk. Jesse was supposed to be the DD so now they’re stranded. We have to go pick them up.”

“Will they fit?” Kurt frowned, hopping in the back.

“We could turn them into sardines,” Brittany suggested helpfully.

“They’d better,” Santana muttered darkly. “Because I am not taking two trips.”

***

As it turned out, they didn’t really, even with everyone cramming in the back of the pickup. 

“Well this is a hot damn mess,” Santana groaned as she shoved Sam on top of Jesse. “If I hit a pothole, there’s no way that one of you won’t go flying.” 

“An’ don’ forget Jess’ car,” Mike slurred as he climbed on top of the dog pile and collapsed heavily. “Don’ wan’ it to be vand’lized like last time.”

“Maybe he should’ve thought of that before getting his ass rolling drunk,” Santana snapped as she stared at the body’s trying to figure out how to fit two more in.

“I’ll drive it,” Blaine sighed, before stumbling into one of the truck wheels.

“You’re drunk off your ass, Blaine,” Santana said, crossing her arms. “I’m not even sure you’d be able to find the ignition.” 

“I can drive Jesse’s car back,” Kurt said suddenly, eyeing the drunken pile ambivalently  “If that would make things easier.” 

“You can drive?” Santana asked skeptically.

Kurt shrugged. “Well I don’t have my license, but I basically grew up in a garage.”

She frowned before nodding, reaching over and plucking the keys out of Jesse’s jeans. “She’s all yours. Take Joe with you, I don’t want you going alone.”

“I’ll go,” Blaine said, looking up from the spot of rust that he’d apparently found oh so fascinating. “With him, I mean.”

“Sure, sure,” Santana said distractedly as she closed up the back of the truck. “Just get home safe or Cedes will kill me.” She waved vaguely before sliding into the front seat with Joe and Brittany, the truck rumbling to a start.

Kurt gripped the keys tightly before turning and heading over to the small old yet well-maintained gunmetal gray car that he knew was Jesse’s, not even bothering to look over his shoulder at Blaine. They both climbed in and Kurt started the ignition, pulling smoothly out of the tight corner it’d been parked in. 

They drove in silence for several minutes. Kurt glanced over at Blaine several times, but he was just leaning against the window, watching the dark forest zoom by and neither of them spoke. The lights of the circus gleamed through the trees and then…

“You drive really well.”

It was so sudden that Kurt swerved a couple of inches before lining back up with the road.

“Um…thank you.”

Blaine nodded crookedly. He was clearly still out of it.

They pulled into the lot out back that was just for the performers and Kurt killed the engine, bathing them in silence. Slowly, like the creeping tide, the sound of crickets filtered in through the car. 

Kurt bit his lip briefly. He didn’t want to take advantage of Blaine being drunk, but… “Did I do something wrong?”

Blaine tilted his head to look at him, eyebrows creasing. “What? No. What’re you talkin’ ‘bout?”

“Well, you’ve been avoiding me ever since I hugged you and I’m sorry if I did something wrong or if you don’t like being hugged,” Kurt rambled, looking down at his hands. “And I’m sorry, I won’t do that anymore if you—”

“I wanted to kiss you.”

Kurt looked up sharply, eyes snapping over to Blaine’s. “W-what?”

“In your tent, when you hugged me,” Blaine said, smacking his lips slightly. “I…I wanted to kiss you, but then I looked down at your head and your hair and…”

Kurt stared, his hands gripping the wheel tightly. “And…?”

“Your hair,” Blaine sighed, haphazardly bringing the back of his hand up to wipe lazily across his face. “It looked like his had.” 

“Who?” Kurt leaned forward. 

Blaine paused, looking out the windshield, his eyes wide and sad and vulnerable. He opened his mouth before closing it. He cleared his throat, blinking back tears. “My ah…my ex.”

He opened the car door quietly and walked out, and in all the time that he’d known him, Kurt had never seen Blaine with so little fire. 

Chapter Text

“Hey. Kurt. Wake up.”

Kurt wrinkled his nose in his pillow, groaning before blinking his eyes open to see Blaine crouched down near his bed in only a black tank and black pants, gently tapping his shoulder. “What?”

Blaine glanced down briefly. “I may need your help with something.” 

Kurt frowned, sitting up and rubbing the sleep from his eyes. “What’s wrong?”

Blaine looked back up at him. “I…need help with a new routine.”

Kurt’s back straightened, suddenly awake. Blaine…he never practiced in front of anyone, in fact no one knew when he even practiced. He got away with not rehearsing in front of everyone else because he continuously changed out his tricks and routines and never got sloppy—not to mention that the crowd loved him so he could afford a little leeway. 

“You…you want me to help you practice?” Kurt asked slowly.

Blaine nodded. “If you’re up for it?”

Kurt swung his legs down on his cool rug. “Well, I’m already awake.”

***

Blaine had taken Kurt through the woods for a good ten minutes—Kurt spent most of them wishing he had grabbed a jacket to put over his light gray sleeveless turtleneck and pajama pants—before coming to a small clearing, lined with torches. A wooden stool had been placed close to the center and Blaine waved Kurt over to sit in it.

Kurt curled up on the stool, rubbing his eyes as he looked around the clearing, early morning dew already collecting on the grass. 

Blaine picked up a slim torch and lit it with a match, twirling it a couple of times before sticking it into his mouth. He pulled the extinguished torch from it before blowing fire out of his mouth and lighting it again effortlessly.

Kurt smile and clapped. “That was great! I have no notes.”

Blaine looked at him with an amused smile tugging his lips. “Kurt…I was just warming up.”

“Oh,” Kurt said sheepishly, blushing. “Well, it was a good warm-up.”

“Thanks,” Blaine grinned as he picked up his bottle of hazy milky liquid, tucking it under his arm.

“How did you extinguish the torch?” Kurt asked curiously. “And keep the fire lit in your mouth?” 

“Transference of oxygen,” Blaine said as he pulled some sort of cloth out of his waistband. “If oxygen is cut off, fire will extinguish. If it’s given even a little, it’ll flourish. So I just pull half of it down my throat, make sure that has a stream of oxygen to keep it alive, then extinguish the oxygen near the torch, take it away, blow out.”

Kurt stared at him. “Okay wow, that’s amazing.”

Blaine smiled, twisting the fabric once around the palm of his left hand before taking out a small red origami twig that flashed gold in the firelight. “This is what I wanted to show you.”

Kurt leaned forward eagerly as Blaine took a swig of the weird liquid, holding it in his mouth as he struck a match and lit one end of the twig. 

It ignited in a small hiss of sparks and Blaine leaned over it, tongue poking out of his mouth as he steadily dropped small douses of liquid on the twig, turning it around and around, each dollop catching fire and creating a licking flame, until his mouth was empty and he gently held up the end result. Kurt stared.

It was a rose. He’d made a rose entirely out of fire and liquid and whatever the hell that origami twig was made out of because it had to be something other than just paper.

Blaine smiled at Kurt’s dumbstruck look as the rose steadily burned down the twig. As it reached its end, Blaine held it in the palm of his left hand before carefully putting his right hand over it, covering it completely. He looked up at Kurt, a grin tugging his lips as he leaned forward, and opened his hands, blowing hard.

A shower of swirling sparks flew out at Kurt, twirling and curling before winking out into oblivion, like a sudden burst of fireflies. 

Kurt gasped in awe before applauding wildly, unable to keep a grin off his face. “Blaine, that was amazing!”

“Really?” Blaine asked earnestly. “Because I wasn’t sure if it’d fit in with my set since I usually do more sort of the daring stuff…”

“No no, it was perfect,” Kurt insisted. “And even when you’re doing wildly dangerous things, your acts are always so beautiful and that one was gorgeous, you have to put it in—”

“You think my acts are beautiful?” Blaine asked quietly, a tender smile gracing his lips.

“Of course, they’re amazing,” Kurt rambled, smiling. “And that last one was spectacular. Please do it again?”

Blaine laughed, running a hand through his hair. “Well, I don’t have all the materials to do it again, but there’s another trick I’ve wanted to do during a set but I can’t because it’s a bit more…intimate.”

Kurt raised his eyebrows, his heart pounding in his chest as Blaine suddenly stepped right in front of him.

Blaine brushed his hair out of his eyes before standing with his knees touching Kurt’s stool. “Okay,” he said quietly as he took a match out of his waist band and lit it. “I can only do this for about ten seconds, because afterwards my tongue starts to burn…” He stared directly at Kurt as he popped the lit head into his mouth, taking it out bare. 

Kurt felt his throat go dry.

Blaine flicked the match away and opened his mouth. A little flame was perched on his tongue. Blaine started breathing slowly and the flame flickered into different forms, flattening at the top to form a ball, then Blaine’s breath grew ragged as the flame slowly but surely was blown into a little heart.

Kurt stared at the small flame then back up at Blaine’s eyes which hadn’t left his the entire time, his heart pounding in his chest. Blaine’s eyes slid shut and Kurt knew that his ten seconds were up, so he decided to help Blaine out and extinguish the flame.

He leaned forward and kissed him.

It was hot, and tasted slightly like alcohol and Blaine’s lips were surprisingly dry, but Kurt gripped Blaine’s shoulders and Blaine was suddenly grabbing Kurt’s waist and it was oddly perfect.

They both pulled back at the same time and Blaine looked at him in shock, breathing out in a rush, smoke streaming from his mouth. “Um…wow.”

“Yeah,” Kurt nodded. “It’s a…it’s a nice trick.”

“It’s easier with a partner,” Blaine said, his breathing heavy. “We should…we should practice.”

“I thought we were,” Kurt smiled and Blaine was suddenly kissing him again.

***

“Kurt!”

Kurt looked down, a smile automatically lighting his face as he saw Blaine standing below. He let his hand-holds on the silks go.

Blaine lurched forward as Kurt, who’d been wound up in silk, fell through the air, the silk unwinding behind him in a lush sea green stream. His arms were scarcely out to catch him when Kurt came to an abrupt halt, upside down head slightly lower than parallel to Blaine’s. 

“Yes?” he asked cheekily, face flushed with exertion. 

Blaine’s arms fell to his sides as he grumbled out a “You nearly gave me a heart attack.”

Kurt grinned. “Oh Blaine, I’m much more capable than that, I wouldn’t just fall—”

“You did last time,” Blaine said quietly.

All the teasing in Kurt’s face disappeared as he readjusted the slip knots around his feet with his ankles and brought his hands to rest upside down on Blaine’s shoulders. “Blaine…I’m fine, okay?”

Blaine looked at him and managed a smile.

Kurt leaned in and kissed him gently. 

Blaine threaded his fingers through Kurt’s hair and brought his face closer as he sighed against his lips.

***

Kurt grinned as he clasped hands with Santana and Jesse as they took their bows in front of the cheering audience. They lingered for an extra ten seconds before clamoring back to the changing rooms to get changed and enjoy the rest of the night.

Kurt followed the others through the back area of the big tent, feeling the cool air from the small flap they were all climbing through hit his face before a hand grabbed his and pulled him to the side, against one of the back supports. 

Before he could even open his mouth, Blaine’s lips were on his and he sighed, winding his arms around Blaine’s neck as the sounds of their lips mashing against each other was muffled by the roar of the audience leaving the tent. 

Blaine pressed him back against a wooden beam and Kurt’s legs automatically looped up around his waist, used to moving independently from his body. 

“You were amazing out there,” Blaine whispered against his lips, trailing a hand down Kurt’s sides, causing him to shiver.

“So were you,” Kurt said as he pulled back and licked his lips.

He wasn’t lying. Blaine had managed to fill the entire performance area with sparks before swirling them into a cloud of smoke and disappearing into it. Kurt had thought him gone for a half-minute before Blaine’s hands had ended up on his waist and he’d received a good-luck kiss under the crook of his jaw before he was up next.

Kurt leaned forward for another kiss but Blaine leaned back, suddenly hesitant. Kurt’s eyebrows furrowed in confusion.

“Would you…” Blaine started before he cleared his throat. “Would you maybe like to go out to dinner with me tomorrow night?”

Chapter Text

It took endless pleading and several make-out sessions—including the heated one in the cab of the rusty pick-up that had steamed the windows and quickly escalated to the tops of their favorite make-out lists—for Blaine to finally concede.

(He argued that he couldn’t withstand Kurt’s pout.)

“Come on!” Kurt said excitedly, bouncing on Blaine’s bed.

“Calm down,” Blaine chuckled, tucking his hair behind his ears—it was growing long again. “This won’t work if you’re bouncing all over the place.”

Kurt managed to sit still, crossing his legs and folding his hands neatly together as Blaine sat on a stool in front of him. “Not-bouncy. Right.”

Blaine smiled before lifting up a small bottle of familiar milky liquid. “Alright, I want you to take about a tea spoon of this. Don’t swallow it, just coat your mouth, okay?”

Kurt nodded as he took a sip, face twisting at the odd borderline alcoholic taste as he licked it around his mouth.

Blaine took hold of one of his fingers and started coating it with a sort of beeswax mixed with something else. “Now this is the finger you’re going to use, understand?”

Kurt nodded, excited.

“Okay,” Blaine said quietly as he lit a match. The red head hissed and burned black, sulphur filling the air as Blaine brought it up to Kurt’s lips.

Kurt opened his mouth quickly, like Blaine had instructed early and licked the fire off the match, making sure to keep a steady stream of air flowing in his mouth.

Blaine pulled the match free and grinned as Kurt showed no signs of discomfort. “Good,” he said, slightly breathless. “Now open your mouth…”

Kurt breathed slowly as he opened his mouth, tongue cradling the small flame delicately.

“Perfect,” Blaine whispered. “And then, like I showed you…”

Kurt brought his waxy finger to his tongue and scooped off the small flame, holding it in front of Blaine proudly.

“Yes!” Blaine grinned, clasping Kurt’s face tightly and leaning in for a celebratory kiss. 

Kurt giggled and got lost in it, closing his fingers into his hands and forgetting the small flame.

It suddenly sparked up against his flesh and he gasped, pulling away sharply and extending his fingers.

Blaine grabbed his hand and shoved it down into the sand, all traces of heat vanishing instantly.

“Sorry,” Kurt muttered distractedly as he pulled his hand free and examined his palm. “Forgot I was holding fire—” He broke off as Blaine grabbed his hand and examined it closely. “Blaine…it’s fine, it barely got the first few layers of skin—”

“It’s not fine,” Blaine said, checking Kurt’s palm over and over. “It’s not okay, you could have gotten hurt.”

“Blaine, it was just one little flame,” Kurt rolled his eyes. “How much damage—”

“All it takes is a fucking spark, Kurt!” Blaine suddenly yelled at him and Kurt took a step back in shock. 

Blaine turned suddenly, reaching down and extinguishing all the candles in the room one by one with his fingers. “Fire is dangerous and volatile and if it isn’t controlled it can get out of hand—” Kurt saw that Blaine’s fingers were dripping with wax and that had to hurt but he kept moving forward, extinguishing each candle. “—and it doesn’t matter how small it starts out, it can turn into a fucking inferno in a matter of seconds and I’m not going to put you in danger like that, you’re not—”

“Blaine, Blaine!” Kurt raised his voice, turning Blaine around and holding him by the sides of his face. “Blaine, I’m fine! I’m okay!”

Blaine just breathed heavily, staring him in the eye.

“Look at me,” Kurt encouraged quietly. “Look at me, Blaine I’m fine.”

Blaine finally dragged his eyes down Kurt’s body and let out a ragged breath.

“I’m fine,” Kurt repeated soothingly, stroking the hair behind Blaine’s left ear. “I’m fine, Blaine. I’m fine. It’s okay.”

After a while, Blaine nodded, blinking tears back from his eyes as he wrapped his arms around Kurt and held him close.

“Wanna tell me what that was about?” Kurt asked quietly. 

“There was an accident,” Blaine said after a pause, voice muffled in Kurt’s hair. “All because of a little spark.”

***

Kurt giggled, sliding easily down his silk and landing on the floor, staring at the entangled and hanging-upside-down Blaine who’d somehow managed to get wrapped up in three silks. “What was that you said earlier? ‘It’s just jumping, it can’t be that hard’?”

Blaine grumbled unintelligibly as he tried to twist out of the fabrics to no avail. 

“Hold still,” Kurt chided, cupping Blaine’s cheek and kissing him softly upside down. “I’ll get you out. Though I must admit, I can see the advantages of leaving you here…”

***

“Kurt.”

Kurt pulled back from Blaine’s lips, furrowing his brow. “What?”

He’d thought everything had been going great. They were in Blaine’s room—on his bed—and the candles were lit and it had been romantic and then it had been hot and oh god what had gone wrong—

Blaine smiled and smoothed his hands over Kurt’s jaw, flexing his fingers until he was cupping his face comfortably. “You’re beautiful,” he whispered quietly before leaning forward and licking across Kurt’s mouth and kissing him again.

Kurt threaded his fingers through Blaine’s hair and kissed him back, excited as he wrapped his legs around his waist and tilted them backwards onto the bed.

***

Blaine slid onto the bench next to Kurt and pecked him on the cheek as he joined lunch with the others for the first time in months.

Kurt smiled at him and offered a quick peck in return before leaning against his shoulder as they shared sandwiches. 

***

Blaine flicked the dead match out of his hand as the crowd roared in the dark and he easily made his way back behind the curtain by heart across the sands, sliding into around the metal structures.

A hand reached out and looped around his waist and then familiar lips pressed to his. Blaine grinned into the kiss and wrapped his arms heavily around Kurt.

“You were amazing,” Kurt whispered after they’d finally broken apart. His eyes twinkled in the dim light as he dragged a hand down Blaine’s oiled chest. “It was an…impressive display.”

“I’d have to concur,” Blaine grinned as he dragged his hand down Kurt’s back—which had held him captivated during the show as Kurt’s tattoo had undulated while he flew threw the silks—to his ass—which always held him captivated. “Shall we have an encore performance?”

***

“Urgh, get a room,” Santana rolled her eyes as she made no move to turn away.

“This is my room!” Kurt snapped, throwing his pillow at Santana as he tried not to be distracted by his lapful of Blaine.

***

“Nice job!” Kurt said, smiling briefly at Blaine as he cracked his knuckles, preparing to go on. 

“Thanks,” Blaine smiled, leaning in for a quick kiss. “Good luck out there, I know you’ll be perfect.”

Kurt smiled before heading out onto the sands. 

Blaine walked over to stare through the curtain and watch Kurt perform. 

“I know there was no hope for you finding someone better after me, but seriously Blaine? An aerial silk performer? You might as well have a sign around your neck that reads ‘Donations Accepted’.” 

Blaine turned around very slowly. “What the hell are you doing here?” he said as he stared at Sebastian. 

“Aw Blaine,” Sebastian cooed, leaning against one of the metal supports casually, twirling a long leather whip between his fingers. “Is that anyway to greet an old friend?”

Blaine’s eyes darted down to the whip, memories of loud cracks and flames and hot sand sweeping through his mind before he blinked them away. “Answer the question.”

“I’m just making sure that you don’t make the same mistake all over again,” Sebastian said easily, pushing off of the support and walking slowly over towards Blaine. “That would be tragic, wouldn’t it?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Blaine said quickly, panic setting into his chest, causing his heart to go thump thump thump. 

“Hunter?” Sebastian asked, his voice gaining an edge. “Surely you haven’t forgotten?”

“That wasn’t my fault,” Blaine said, a sweat breaking out on his palms.

Sebastian smiled. It held no warmth. “Now we both know that that’s not true. It was entirely your fault, Blaine.”

“No,” Blaine said faintly, backing into the support as Sebastian pushed forward.

“Yes,” Sebastian snapped, crowding his face close to Blaine’s. “And do you know how I know?” He leaned forward, his lips ghosting over Blaine’s ear. “Because you’ve made the same mistake twice.”

Blaine stared at Sebastian as he pulled back, a smirk tugging his lips. “What are you talking about?”

Sebastian looked innocently through the curtain. “You left a lit torch in the sands.”

“What?” Blaine looked round to see the lonely torch sticking out, close to the edge. “No, that’s impossible I brought them all in, there must be a mistake—”

“It’s a mistake, alright,” Sebastian said. “One you made again. You always hurt those who you love the most, don’t you Blainey?”

“But I didn’t—” Blaine protested.

“Take this as a lesson,” Sebastian cut him off. “I mean, what if there were a giant gust of wind, blowing those silks around wildly?” 

Unseen by Blaine, he lifted his whip and snapped it. It wrapped around the silk nearest to the curtain. 

Blaine’s eyes followed the sound of the crack, and everything seemed to happen very slowly.

“And there was that lone torch,” Sebastian said quietly. “Just waiting…” He flicke his wrist and the whip lashed the silk sideways into the torch, causing the delicate fabric to catch fire.

“No!” Blaine yelled, shoving at Sebastian who twisted his wrist again and the silk was yanked towards the two nearest to it and they both caught on fire. 

Blaine shoved off the supports and ran through the curtain, skidding across the hot sand and ducking in time to avoid and burning silk that flared brightly in the dark. The crowd was in chaos, running everywhere in an attempt to escape, but Blaine’s attention was focused upwards, blinking the smoke out of his eyes as he saw Kurt clutching the unburned part of a flaming silk and looking around wildly.

Blaine’s heart clenched as Kurt jumped to a neighboring one that was equally on fire. Then another. He was trying to get to the sixth one which was furthest away from where Blaine and Sebastian had been, and it had yet to catch fire. Blaine ran towards it, eyes on Kurt as he leapt from silk to silk.

He saw it too late.

Up high, on the untouched silk, there was a tear. 

“KURT!” he screamed, but Kurt had already jumped for it.

Kurt caught the silk, a triumphant look upon his face before the fabric tore completely and he fell, tumbling in a mess of falling sea green and fiery curtains. 

Chapter Text

"I’m sorry," the doctor said calmly, placing a firm hand on Blaine’s shoulder.

"What do you mean?" Blaine frowned, looking back at Kurt who was lying motionless in the hospital bed. "No no—" he stumbled backwards, grasping Kurt’s wrist tightly, feeling the weak pulse. "No, he’s still alive he’s…he’s…"

"Don’t worry son," the man said, placing a calming hand on his shoulder. "It’s alright, okay? He’s going to pull through."

Blaine breathed out heavily, squeezing Kurt’s wrist tighter. “Thank god,” he whispered, his eyes sliding shut. “Oh, thank god.”

"But there were some complications," the doctor said solemnly, looking down at his clipboard. 

Blaine’s heart clenched as he sat down in the chair next to Kurt’s bed. “What do you mean?”

"The fall was too high," the doctor sighed. "He fractured his spine and there was nothing we could do. He’ll be in a chair for the rest of his life."

"No," Blaine said quietly as he looked over at Kurt, still lying so quiet and peaceful in his bed, unaware of the horrors he’d awake to. "No, he can’t, we’re in the circus, he’s an aerial silk performer—"

"I’m sorry," the doctor shook his head. "But he’ll never hoist himself up on those silks again. He’s lost most of the feeling below his chest."

"Stop!" Blaine cried, grabbing his hair in his hands as images of Kurt smiling at him and swinging around in his silks and laughing as he tried to show Blaine the proper way to twist his body. "No, he can’t, he has to get better—"

"It’s okay, Blaine," a quiet raspy voice came from his right. He looked over and Kurt was staring at him sadly.

"Kurt," he said quietly. "It’s not okay, it’s not at all!"

"I’m broken now," Kurt said quietly, staring down at his hands. "I’m broken and…" He looked up at Blaine, his eyes wide. "You broke me."

"No," Blaine shook his head.

"You broke me," Kurt repeated. "You’re the reason I’m broken."

And then he wasn’t Kurt, he was Hunter and Blaine lurched away from the bed—

"Blaine!"

Blaine’s head shot off his arm, which he’d been resting on in the hospital hallway as he and the rest of the New Directions troupe waited for the news.

None of them could go any further because they weren’t directly related to Kurt.

Jesse was looking down at him in concern. “Are you okay? You were kind of moaning…”

Blaine took a shaky breath and rubbed his hands over his eyes. “I’m fine.”

He was lying. 

He leaned against the wall and waited for the doctor to come out, so he could see just how not-fine he really was. 

***

Blaine stared at the grainy white hospital wall across the hall from him, one brief moment in time flashing through his head. 

The memory wasn’t whole, it was disjointed. Like pictures placed in chronological order in his mind, but the brief seconds between when they were taken were utterly lost to him.

Click.

Kurt had jumped. Blaine had tried to yell.

Click.

Kurt’s hand reached the silk. Blaine had taken off across the sand, screaming Kurt’s name.

Click. 

The silk had torn completely. The sand was burning the bottom of Blaine’s bare feet.

Click. 

Kurt had twisted through the air like a bird who’s wing had been injured. A flaming silk curtain had come out of nowhere and impeded Blaine.

Click. 

Blaine crashed through the curtain, fire licking his sides as he skidded across the sand, feeling his feet scrape and become bloody, the burning sand imbedding into his raw flesh.

Click.

Blaine dove in an attempt to catch Kurt, but to no avail. He’d fallen too fast. Kurt hit the ground hard and Blaine skidded next to him on the burning sand, the swirling silk falling down on top of them. 

Click.

"Are you all here for Kurt Hummel?"

Blaine lifted his head and scrambled to his feet, along with the others as they all nodded.

The nurse smiled comfortingly at them. “My name’s Carole. I’ll take you to him.” 

***

By four in the morning, the rest of the troupe had gone back to camp to sleep and prepare visiting shifts for the next day as well as handling clean-up for the big tent. The next three performances had been canceled. 

Blaine stayed next to Kurt’s bed, quietly holding his hand, the only sound permeating the room a steady beep that tracked Kurt’s heart.

Kurt had sustained a broken leg, a cracked pelvis, four broken ribs, a concussion, several burns, countless bruises, and he’d nearly fractured his spine, not to mention the severe body trauma. 

The doctors had said that they’d been unable to keep him awake longer than a minute because of the screaming and thrashing, so he was in a medically-induced coma so that he could sleep.

Blaine stared at Kurt, unable to un-see the horrific chain of events that had led to this exact moment.

And the worst part was that he already knew how this would end from prior experience. 

Kurt would wake up and well…he wouldn’t hate him, because he was Kurt, but he would never see Blaine the same way.

And Blaine was pretty sure he wouldn’t be able to take that.

He already couldn’t take the fact that he’d nearly gotten a sixteen year old killed. 

There was something he wanted to say to Kurt, something he’d been planning on saying for a while, but he couldn’t now. It just seemed…suddenly hollow. Like a plea. Or a bargain.

So instead, when six o’clock rolled around and Mercedes came to take over, he merely leant down and kissed Kurt softly on the cheek, whispering, “Goodbye.”

Then he headed back to the circus. He had some packing to do. 

Chapter Text

He just grabbed a spacious pack that he could strap to his back. There wasn’t much he needed to bring. Clothes. Some of the extra cash he had stashed. He looked hesitantly at the pile of matchboxes he had next to his bed, and the other ones that littered the sand, but he shook his head.

No more fire.

Not again.

He grabbed his thick waterproof hiking boots and pulled them on.

"What the hell are you doing, man?"

Blaine paused, but didn’t turn to look at Sam. He just shoved his clothes as far into the pack as he could and zipped it up. “Leaving.”

"But why?" Sam said, pushing his way into the tent and putting a hand on Blaine’s shoulder, turning him. "Dude, you can’t leave."

"I have to," Blaine said distractedly as he reached over and grabbed his coat. "I need to get as far away from here as possible—"

"We’re not going to let you do that," Sam said impatiently as he tried to take the coat from Blaine. "You’re family now, man, and family has to stick together. Especially since Kurt’s in the hospital. What, you’re just going to leave and let him wake up to you gone?"

"He’ll be better off if I leave, Sam," Blaine sighed, trying to yank his coat back. "He’s the reason I can’t stay. I can’t hurt him again!"

"Dude,  what happened last night wasn’t your fault!"

"Yes it was!" Blaine yelled. "Okay? I already know how this is going to go down and I have to leave, it can’t happen again, he can’t find out—"

"Dude-Dude!" Sam grabbed both of his shoulders, shaking him slightly. "Calm down! What can’t he find out?"

"I…" Blaine blinked the tears out of his eyes, trying to focus on Sam. "I…I killed someone." 

***

Everything was black and cloying and smokey and oh god it burned his lungs so bad and he was sweating but it was too hot way too hot why was it so hot—

"Put him under! He’s going to aggravate his wounds!"

"Alright, let’s give him an infusion of—"

And then it was dark again.

***

Jumping. He was jumping. Not flying, though he’d thought that he could fly for a while but no, this was jumping, because he didn’t have wings no matter what was on his back, and there was a chance he could—

He was falling.

He sat straight up, looking wildly around the unfamiliar room and screamed and then there was someone (Mercedes?) there as well and people in white came in but he couldn’t stop screaming because he couldn’t stop falling—

***

He didn’t know what time it was when he woke up, but it was bright.

***

Jesse was with him when the nurse came in.

He’d been told what happened from three different perspectives, none of them Blaine.

So he didn’t really take any of it in.

One second he’d been flying.

Then the next he’d been falling.

"Kurt?"

Kurt blinked out of his reverie and looked up at the nurse, a hesitant smile on his face. “Yes?”

"You have another visitor," she smiled.

Jesse sent him a look, which he promptly ignored, heart racing as the man walked into the room.

His heart froze and a breath gusted out of him. “Dad?”

***

Sam stared at him. “What?”

"Nothing," Blaine shook his head, turning to shove clothes back into his pack. "Never mind, it doesn’t matter—"

"Doesn’t matter?" Sam said incredulously, turning him back around. "Blaine, you just told me you killed someone, that’s not something you can just brush off!" 

”Yeah well it’s not going to change what happened and it’s not going to change the fact that it would completely crush Kurt if he found out,” Blaine snapped, pulling his shoulder out of Sam’s grasp. “So I have to go, I have to leave, I—”

"Dude—dude!" Sam said, blocking the entrance to the tent. "No way, man. You at least have to explain." His face suddenly grew somber. "Does this have anything to do with Jeremiah—"

"No," Blaine cut across him quickly. "No, this was after and…" All the fight seemed to drain out of him and he sat down on his bed, weary. "After…that, I was on the road for a while. Hitchhiking mostly because there wasn’t a whole lot of work for a fifteen year old. I met a mime named Trent. Sweet guy. We traveled together for a month before the Dalton Circus took us in.”

"Wait a second, you were a Warbler?" Sam asked, eyebrows shooting up. "Blaine that’s…that’s heavy, dude. That’s—" His eyes widened. "The accident. In Indiana—"

"I’ll get to that," Blaine sighed. "Anyways, the Warblers were great guys and they took me and Trent right in and made us feel welcome. I got to train with their fire eater, Wes, and stuff was great. 

"When I was seventeen, we gained a whip artist named Sebastian. He was…well, a bit abrasive, but he kind of grew on everybody, when he wasn’t acting like a complete tool. He clearly liked me and well…it was lonely traveling from place to place so we started dating for a bit, on and off. Still, we worked as a tight-knit group until Wes had to leave. Family issues. David and Thad became the new heads and they did fine until Hunter joined."

Blaine broke off and went over to his dresser, pulling a bottle of gin out of the third drawer down and gesturing to Sam. 

Sam sat on the bed next to him, gratefully taking the bottle and downing a small mouthful, a sense of dread already filling his stomach for the story ahead. “What happened with Hunter?”

Blaine took a swallow as well. “He and Sebastian were total dicks together. It was like they fed off each other and everyone was growing tired of it. Sebastian and I officially broke up after I walked in on him and Hunter, despite Hunter’s constant mantra of ‘Not even remotely bi-curious’… I mean, I think down on some level Sebastian must have loved him in some way or another. Not entirely sure about Hunter though.

"He started getting bossy. It was clear he wanted to take over the Dalton Circus and David and Thad weren’t the strongest of leaders. Then he convinced Sebastian that we should use live animals in our routines, which goes against the Dalton Code, but Sebastian got on board with it, thinking he could add lion-taming to his routine…"

Blaine took another drink before continuing. “There’d been a fight between the three of us, like this big massive blowout that had gotten really ugly and left everyone sore. I was ready to up and leave, but I didn’t want to hurt the other guys and we all had to make our way somehow, but my threat to leave had spooked Sebastian at least to delay Hunter’s plan a couple of weeks, because I did tend to draw the biggest amount of people, and the Warblers would’ve been lacking without some sort of fire performer. 

"So, a few nights later, after I’d performed, Hunter went on to do his routine. He was incredibly strong and could lift pretty much anything and was in the middle of lifting weights when… See…I’m usually meticulous about cleaning up after myself. I mean, I always am. But one of my torches had been left out in the sand. Usually they burn low, then the weight tips them over and puts them out against the sand if I leave them for too long, but this one didn’t for some reason, and it tipped the other way and sparked onto the dry fabric of the tent, lighting it."

"The Dalton Circus fire," Sam said quietly. "We all heard about it."

Blaine nodded, taking another drink before Sam wrestled it from him. “It all happened so fast. One second I was unwrapping my wrists, the next second everything was on fire. I tried to help put it out at first, but everyone just started evacuating. Hunter…Hunter had gotten trapped under one of the large wooden support beams. Despite his strength, he couldn’t lift it. And I…” Blaine dragged his hands roughly through his hair, clenching it slightly before releasing it. “I stood there. In the sands that were growing hotter and hotter and burning my feet, the entire tent in flames around me. I stood there and I didn’t lift a finger to help Hunter. I just stared at him as the beam started smoking. And then caught fire. And then he started burning. But I was just looking around the tent at the fire and it was just sobeautiful—”

Blaine broke off and the two sat in stony silence for a long while.

"Trent pulled me out," Blaine rasped quietly, breaking the silence. "But not before…" He dragged a hand over his abdomen, where his burn scars were. "And after that I ran. I couldn’t go back. I knew that Sebastian blamed me for the whole thing, and he had good reason to as well. So I laid low. Did a couple of side jobs. Found the New Directions and joined in, keeping to myself, convincing myself that if I just kept a low profile and didn’t do anything out of turn and didn’t get attached to someone then…then maybe it would be okay for me to play with fire again. Maybe I could learn how to control it better or…or…"

He smiled bitterly. “I was fine for a year. Then…six months ago happened.”

"Kurt joined," Sam said, nodding.

"Kurt joined," Blaine echoed. "He was just so…like a pretty blue flame, flickering around his silks and…I don’t know. I guess I couldn’t help falling a little bit in love with him." His smile twisted wryly. 

"Dude, you have to tell Kurt that," Sam said intently.

"I can’t," Blaine shook his head. "Kurt almost died because of me, Sam. The exact same thing happened that did with Hunter."

"Except you tried to save Kurt," Sam said. "We all saw you. It was impossible for you to have gotten there in time, we all knew it, you knew it, but you still ran after him."

"I had to," Blaine said softly. "And now I have to go. I can’t…I just need to distance myself from fire for a while."

"I think your’e making a huge mistake."

"I know."

"Kurt’s going to be heartbroken."

"I know."

"Because…he really does love you a lot."

Blaine’s shoulders slumped as he looked wearily at Sam. “I know.” He walked over to his dresser and opened the top one, rummaging around in it for a bit before pulling something out and handing it to Sam. “Would you give this to Kurt for me?”

"Uh…sure," Sam said, frowning at the thing in his palm. "What is it?"

Blaine smiled softly. “He’ll understand. Also, there’s something I want you to tell him…”

***

Seven hours later found Sam switching out for Jesse at the hospital. He grinned as he walked in the room to find Kurt awake and alert, giving him a large but gentle hug, still wary of his wounds. He frowned at the older man in the baseball cap who was dozing in the corner. “Who’s that?”

"Um…long story," Kurt said quickly. "Have you heard from Blaine at all?"

He looked so hopeful that Sam’s heart clenched as he prepared to see it shattered. “Blaine…he left.”

"Left?" Kurt repeated, his eyebrows drawing together. "What do you mean, left?"

"He just…left," Sam said quietly, hating himself for the sudden sharp pain on Kurt’s face. "He uh…asked me to give you this," he pulled the small object out of his pocket and placed it gently in Kurt’s hand. "And he wanted me to tell you to keep practicing."

Sam didn’t understand what it meant, but that didn’t stop his heart from hurting as he watched Kurt dissolve into tears at his words as he delicately held the red origami twig between his two hands. 

Chapter Text

"Did you hear?" Fiona asked, adjusting her lipgloss in the bathroom mirror. "Apparently there was an accident at the circus yesterday so we won’t be picketing anymore tonight."

"Oh thank god," Kitty groaned, fluffing her ponytail. "There are better things to do with my Saturday nights than protesting a bunch of godless carnies."

"Kitty!" Sarah admonished. 

"It’s true," Kitty shrugged dispassionately as she deemed herself perfection in the mirror. "Now can we roll and actually do something fun in this town for a change?"

***

Ten minutes later, Kitty was cursing herself and walking back to the sanctuary to find her bible, when she saw an unfamiliar figure sitting in one of the front pews. Frowning, she picked up her bible from the sixth row and walked forward, ready for a confrontation.

"The sanctuary’s closed," she said sharply as she folded her arms across her bible across her chest.

The man—boy really, he didn’t look that much older than her—looked up in surprise, his dark eyes widening. “Oh. Sorry. I didn’t know that God had office hours.”

She almost found herself smiling, but quickly batted it down. “Whatever Bob Marley’s Slightly Less Ethnic Cousin, communion was two hours ago so you’re not getting any free handouts. Scoot.”

"I’m not homeless," he frowned. "I’m from the carnival."

"Sorry. Correction: Homeless and godless."

"I wouldn’t say that," he said with a small smile. "We’re a band of misfits traveling from town to town showing others our passions." He turned to look at the cross at the head of the sanctuary. "I think that’s a very Christian ideal." 

"Not when you’re selling your bodies and desecrating them for the sake of entertainment," Kitty argued, perturbed by this stranger that was invading her sacred space. "How’s that even remotely godlike?"

"Well, first off all, we sell skills, not our bodies," the boy corrected gently. "But regardless, Jesus hung out with the dregs of society, so shouldn’t you, by extension, do the same? Where’s your Christian charity?"

Kitty clenched her teeth as his grinned turned wolfish.

"And I assume by "desecration", you mean the tattoos we all get when we join."

"Your body is God’s temple," Kitty said, getting back on familiar footing. "You dishonor God by marring it."

"Actually, I think I’m honoring God," he said, lifting up his shirt. Kitty had a protest on her lips, but she made no move to look away. Instead, she leaned over with a slight frown as she read the words.

“‘I will love thee O Lord, My Strength’,” she murmured.

"It’s Psalm—"

"Eighteen, I know," she said, straightening up uncomfortably, feeling a pang of disappointment—that she’d never admit to anyone—when he put his shirt back down. She cleared her throat. "So what are you doing here then?"

His smile turned grim. “There was an accident during a performance last night. One of my friends got hurt and he’s in the hospital. I thought I’d ask the Lord to look over him.”

Kitty nodded slowly before tentatively sliding into the pew next to him. “I’ll pray with you, if you like.” He looked at her in surprise and she quickly amended. “I mean, I’m head of the youth prayer comity so it’s my job to facilitate and make sure that—”

"I’d love it if you would, thank you," he interrupted quietly. "I’m Joe."

She looked over at him, a half smile fluttering about her lips. “Kitty.”

***

Two hundred thirty-one, two hundred thirty-two, two hundred thirty-three…

On and on he went, doing handstand push-ups, arms sinking his body down, headfirst to the ground before they pushed him back up again. And again. And again. And again.

He hadn’t been able to help Blaine and now Blaine was gone. He hadn’t been able to help Kurt while he was crying and apparently Kurt was leaving now as well to go live with his dad. He couldn’t do anything right, the only thing he could make sure he got right was his exercise routine, but no this wasn’t right either, he needed to go harder, go faster, go longer, look perfect, make sure that he wouldn’t let anyone else down—

"Sam!"

The loud voice sent a shock through his system and his arms gave out, causing him to go crashing to the ground. His face clenched against the hard earth as “not good enough” still rang through his head.

"Sam!" Hands were grabbing him and pulling him up and a voice was asking him if he was alright. He focused in and it was Mercedes, her hair up in a bun which meant that she’d been sleeping recently.

"I’m sorry," he murmured, slightly dizzy. "I didn’t mean to wake you—"

"It’s fine, I haven’t been able to sleep all night anyways," she said dismissively. "But what on earth happened to you? You’re drenched in sweat…"

"Been practicing," he said distractedly. "Since I got back. Have to keep going…"

"Sam, that was hours ago!" Mercedes protested. "You’ll make yourself sick! Here, let’s just get you to bed."

"No, I have to practice," Sam shook his head. "I—"

"Here just rest a b—"

"No!" He yelled. "I don’t get to rest! I have to make sure it’s right, I have to make sure it’s perfect because Blaine left and Kurt’s leaving so without them I have to be perfect and—and—" He broke off as the sobs finally choked up his throat and his head fell into his hands, his overexerted body trembling.

Instantly, he felt warm arms wrap around him as Mercedes coaxed him into her lap and held him tight, rocking back and forth.

"It’ll be okay, Sam," she said quietly. "We’ll get along fine without them, and we’ll be ready when they get back. You know they’ll come back."

"How can you be so sure?" he whispered.

She rolled her eyes. “Have you seen those two around each other? Please, I give it a month tops.”

Sam nodded after a pause, sniffing. “Sorry. I didn’t meant to break down on you or anything.”

"It’s fine," she said gently. "And I’m pretty sure I’ve owed you since Chicago."

"That was different," he protested, but she shook her head. 

"It was the same," she said, her voice growing faint as memories of the windy city washed over the both of them. "And anyways, it’s perfectly human. There’s no need to apologize."

A silence fell over them as she held him close, still gently rocking back and forth as the sun slowly crept up between the trees.

Mercedes began singing softly. It wasn’t like when she performed with her voice, Sam noted. She didn’t have her glass jars or bottles, so there were no echo effects or pitch switches. Instead it was gentle and raw and washed over him, drowning out the voices in his head and reminding him of those few summer nights in Chicago.

"Looking out across the morning, the city’s heart begins to beat. Reaching out, I touch her shoulder, I’m dreaming of the street. If they say why, why, tell ‘em that it’s human nature. Why, why, does he do me that way? I like living this way…" 

Chapter Text

"Kurt."

Kurt’s breath whooshed out of his lungs as he turned, clutching his binder tightly to his chest.

Blaine stood at the end of the hall, hair tousled, leather jacket unzipped, eyes alight with hope.

”Blaine,” Kurt whispered, dropping his binder and rushing down the hall—

The bell rang.

Kurt blinked, staring out the window before turning to take in the sight of his classmates packing up their things around him. Shoving his binder into his backpack, he left the class for the next period.

Without you, the ground thaws, the rain falls, the grass grows… 

Kurt kept his mind from flying through air, because the thoughts of flying always led to thoughts of falling.

He remembered falling that first time, and the arms that had reached out to catch him…

Shaking his head, he tried to focus on American History.

Without you, the seed roots, the flowers bloom, the children play… 

His dad still didn’t know his reasons for leaving. He was only glad to have him back. Kurt loved his father dearly, he truly did. But sometimes…

He wished he didn’t have to hide everything.

He wished he was still in contact with anyone from the circus.

He wished that he knew anything about where Blaine was.

The stars gleam, the poets dream, the eagle flies without you… 

"Watch it, homo."

Kurt winced as he picked himself off the ground, adding another bruise to his tally and silently telling himself that it wasn’t nearly as bad as the bruises he’d acquired from the silks, but somehow that never actually made him feel better. 

The earth turns, the sun burns, but I die without you. 

Blaine slid out from under the car, rubbing the grease off of his hands and blinking back a memory of Kurt telling him something snarky about engines. 

He took a long drink of water before leaning back over the hood, staring at it expressionlessly.

Without you, the breeze warms, the girl smiles, the cloud moves… 

On the road again, heading east. He’d considered west for a while, but something in him didn’t want to go that far. He told himself that it was fear of the unknown, but really he simply couldn’t be that far from Ohio, or what Ohio held for him.

So he pressed east down the highway at night, stars streaking in his periphery as he sped past. 

Without you, the tides change, the boys run, the oceans crash… 

"Hey dude, do you have a light?"

Blaine looked up at the guy holding out a cigarette towards him. “No, sorry man.”

The guy shrugged and moved on.

Blaine’s fingers twitched restlessly for a flame, but he clenched his hand and ignored it.

The crowds roar, the days soar, the babies cry without you… 

Some nights he’d dream he was back in his tent, the void of the night dampened by the constant candlelight he kept.

Some nights he’d dream of Kurt creeping in after hours, a delighted grin on his face as he’d crawl into Blaine’s bed, pressing cold toes against his calves.

Some nights he dreamt of Kurt falling.

And it was because of those nights he kept on.

The moon glows, the river flows, but I die without you. 

A curtain flickered at the window, distracting Kurt as he sat on the couch doing his homework. He stared at it, imagining it bigger and more durable, running to it, taking it in hand, leaping…

The world revives, colors renew, but I know blue, only blue… 

Some kids were lighting off fireworks as Blaine drove by and his mind immediately jumped to how to improve them and make them better.

Lonely blue, within me blue…without you… 

Kurt weaved through the halls of school, keeping an eye out for letterman jackets as he headed to yet another useless class to build up his schooling so he could go to some college where he honestly had no idea what he’d major in because his only passion had ever been circus. 

Nothing else filled him with exhilaration like swinging through silks had.

Without you, the hand gropes, the ear hears, the pulse beats… 

Blaine sat at the cheap motel desk and wrote a letter to Kurt. He didn’t send it, though.

He never sent any of the letters.

Without you, the eyes gaze, the leg walks, the lungs breathe… 

Kurt woke up in a cold sweat, rolling over to cuddle up to Blaine’s constant warmth before the haziness of sleep shook off of him and he realized that he was alone in bed.

The mind churns (the mind churns)… 

Blaine snapped the hood of a car down, unable to un-see the memory of him and Kurt in the cab of the ND truck, giggling and moaning for hours. 

The heart yearns (the heart yearns)… 

Kurt pulled himself out of the dumpster and leaned against it dejectedly.

The tears dry without you. 

Blaine saw the city lights in the distance as he headed for Manhattan. 

Life goes on, but I’m gone. 

Kurt curled in on himself next to his bed, gingerly holding the scarlet gold paper twig in his hands as he sobbed quietly. 

'Cause I die without you. 

Blaine sat in on the rug in front of the fireplace in his empty apartment, staring at the flames. One by one, he threw each of the letters he’d written Kurt into the fire. 

Without you.

***

"It’s so cute!" Kurt giggled, laying on Blaine’s chest and playing with his curls.

"And it’s getting too long," Blaine grumbled. "I should probably cut it at some point."

"No, keep it," Kurt insisted, twisting a curl around his finger. "And when it gets long enough, you can put it in a super sexy ponytail."

"Oh hush," Blaine grinned, fingers flying up to mess with Kurt’s coif. Kurt yelled and they rolled over, laughing. 

Blaine stood in front of the mirror, staring at his reflection blankly. It was nearly two in the morning.

Slowly, he raised the scissors to his hair and cut each lock, letting them all fall into the cracked white porcelain of the sink. 

***

"I love these, you know," Blaine said softly, trailing a finger across the swirly iridescent scales and feathers across Kurt’s back.

"I love yours too," Kurt mumbled sleepily, bringing a hand up to the right side of Blaine’s chest to touch the head of the dragon briefly. "Very fitting." 

Blaine chuckled softly, wrapping an arm around Kurt’s waist and leaning back. “Have you ever thought of getting another one?”

Kurt hesitated before adopting a nonchalant tone. “I mean sure, objectively I suppose. Don’t really know what I’d get.”

"Yeah…" Blaine echoed. "Me too." 

Kurt uselessly stirred his mocha as he sat at the Lima Bean—his one respite from the jocks who were apparently too cool to ever go near a coffee shop, whatever that meant—and doodled on his paper. 

It was a rough sketch of the tattoo on his back and the flaming flower that he’d wanted to add to it.

And then it hit him all at once how stupid he’d been. Running away to the circus—despite the things that had happened—and falling for someone older and assuming that he’d just live out the rest of his life like it was a fairytale or something stupid like that.

He really needed to let it go.

"What are you drawing? It’s really pretty."

Kurt jumped looking up. A college-aged looking blonde guy was staring down at his drawing. Kurt opened his mouth to reply before considering briefly and shutting the notebook, turning his full attention to the guy.

"Nothing. Well, nothing important, really." He was supposed to be moving on, right? Why not take a leap of faith. He stuck his hand out. "I’m Kurt."

"Hello Kurt, the artist of nothing important, really,” the guy grinned, and Kurt was instantly charmed. “I’m Jeremiah.”