"Who is that?" Kurt asked.

"That's my father," Blaine said. He took the keys out of his ignition before resting his hands on Kurt's. "Please stay inside the car until I come and get you."

"Why?" Kurt asked. "Blaine, what's going on? You've never introduced me to him."

"There's a reason," Blaine said. "Lock your door." As he jumped out of his car, Kurt did as he was told.

The scene that was laid out before him went in slow motion. Blaine's father, who Kurt only knew as Mr. Anderson, swung a punch at his child's face. Before it pushed into his skin, Blaine blocked his fist, and sent his own flying at his father's jaw. He fell down against the garage door.

Kurt couldn't handle it anymore. He unlocked his door and got out.

"Kurt," Blaine screamed, "I told you to stay in the car!"

"And just watch this happen?" Kurt replied. "Should I call the cops?"

Blaine shook his head, "No, this happens at least three times a week."

"Should I go get your mom?" Kurt asked.

Blaine nodded, and Kurt flew into the house looking for Cindy. Kurt had met her about three months ago, and was shocked to discover that Blaine's mom was one of the most understanding women he ever met, aside from his mother and Carole.

As he escalated the stairs two by two, he came face to face with the blonde, blue-eyed beauty.

"What's wrong Kurt?" she sounded alarmed.

"Mr. Anderson," he said.

As she understood what he meant by those two words she sighed heavily and said before running downstairs, "Make yourself comfortable in Blaine's room. He'll be right up."

Kurt's chin was left ajar as he replayed the events in his head. What the hell was that, Kurt thought.

He walked into his boyfriend's bedroom, surprised that he knew where to go. He had never entered through there before. As he looked around, he took in the scent, smelling entirely of Blaine. His bed was made neatly, placed in the middle of the small room. He had a dresser filled with pictures of them both, and Kurt recognized the first one from the day the first two met. The second photo was much more memorable, though. It was of them two on the day they first got together. The pictures seemed to make a timeline of the boys' most cherishable moments together. Before he ended his tour, he heard a throat clearing behind him.

Kurt shot around, scared at who it might be. The wave of relief hit him when he was met face-to-face by the black-haired boy in the pictures.

"You scared me," Kurt said, lowering his head.

"By punching my father or by walking in without making any noise?" Blaine asked.

"To be determined," Kurt said with a smile.

Blaine, however, was not finding the situation at all humorous. He sat on the edge of his bed, patting his hand on the vacant side, signaling for Kurt to join him. Once he sat down, Blaine looked at him with tearful eyes and began to tell his story.

"I am so sorry you had to witness that, Kurt. I promise for as long as I live that you will never have to see anything like that again. My father does this on a daily basis. Only very few times has he tried to hurt me. Each time he tries, he fails. Usually, it is because he is drunk, and his coordination is really off, but most of the time it is because I hit him first. I was hit by him before, and that's what's made him even more pissed off. He knows that I won't tolerate it anymore. Mom is just as caring as she is in front of you as she is in front of anyone else. She can't stand to see me and Penelope get hurt," Blaine said.

Kurt remembered his sister. She had left for college a few months back. The first time he met her, she had one too many bruises on her neck. Blaine joked about it, saying they were hickeys from her boyfriend. Kurt knew better than that, but nodded in agreement. After all, it wasn't his place. Only now, he wished he had done something about it sooner.

Before Blaine could finish, Kurt had gotten up from the bed and grabbed the nearest empty bag he found. He began throwing various items of clothing into the bag, along with Blaine's hair products, toothpaste, etc.

Blaine rushed by his side, but Kurt slapped his hand away when he tried to reach for his bag.

"What are you doing?" Blaine asked.

"You're coming to live with me," Kurt said.

"I can't just come and live with you."

"Yes you can. I'm telling you right now that you are. You can stay in Finn's room when my dad is up and in my room at night."

Blaine smiled at the thought of sleeping in the same bed as Kurt, but shook his head, "You know as well as I know that you're dad won't let me live with you guys."

"He will if you're there with me to ask him."

Blaine grabbed his boyfriend's hand, "Just wait until after the funeral. I promise I'll come, but wait until then. Please, promise me."

Kurt huffed and threw the bag to the ground. "Fine, I promise. But you have to promise me something in return."

"What?"

"If that ever happens again, you call me. Do you understand?"

Blaine hesitantly nodded his head. "Thank you, Kurt," he said, as he leaned in to kiss the boy in front of him.

After they kissed for what felt like hours, Kurt managed to drive himself home with his car that was parked a few streets away.

When he got home, he was surprised to see his father asleep on the couch. He walked over and knelt beside him, shaking him awake.

As Burt's eyes met his son he said, "What the hell are you doing? What do you want?"

"Blaine will be living with us for a while after the funeral," Kurt said.

Burt shot up, his attention now fully focused on his son, "Excuse me?"

"Dad, Blaine's been getting abused by his father for a long time," Kurt said. Burt began to look nervous. "He's been getting drunk and hitting him. He needs a safe place. That has to be here. I figured since Finn is out doing God knows what in the middle of God knows where, he could stay in his room. After all, it is vacant."

Burt slowly nodded, "Of course, son. He can stay for as long as he likes. Should I call someone?"

"I promised not to, but if anything happens after today, he'll call me and we'll do something about it." He bent down to kiss his father's cheek as he said, "Thank you so much, Dad. Get some sleep. We have a long day tomorrow."

Kurt's father fell back against the soothing feel of the couch as his son turned the lamp off. Tomorrow would be a long day. Every day from now on would be a long day.