Kurt was having a really miserable week. And it was only getting worse. He’d fought with Blaine about the creepy guy that came with him to the coffeehouse (Eric – he remembered) and it probably cost him their friendship. Kurt hadn’t even tried to be nice – the blond leered at Blaine’s ass openly, his hair was most certainly bleached – and badly at that – and he reeked of cigarettes. Blaine deserved so much better than that. Not to mention Kurt just had this weird feeling about this man, like something wasn’t right, like his gut was telling him to stay away, and he trusted his instincts. Of course, Blaine got angry and hadn’t spoken to him once since then, ignoring his calls and texts. And as brokenhearted as Kurt was, seeing his (crush? dream boyfriend? love?) friend smitten with another man, losing him altogether hurt much, much more.

Columbus was boring when he had no one to conquer it with – Finn wasn’t exactly the best companion for shopping or going to the cinema, unless they wanted to watch two separate movies. He was already regretting coming here. It didn’t help that he forgot his phone back at home – bitching about Blaine’s new crush to Mercedes while hastily packing his bag at the same time wasn’t one of his best ideas. He told himself that it would do Blaine good to see what it was like to be ignored, but all he achieved was making himself even more miserable. Now he had no way to talk to his friends for a week and Blaine probably wouldn’t even notice his silence anyway, busy with his new boyfriend.

“Kurt!” Finn’s voice was a little anxious as he held out his phone to his step-brother. “Your dad wants to talk to you.”

Kurt’s heart skipped a beat. Burt Hummel wasn’t one of those parents who would call just to chat or ask how he was. Something must have happened.

Sure enough, his father’s voice was tense and tired, and he suddenly sounded old, even as he tried to speak brightly.

“Hi kiddo. How’s Columbus?”

“Fine. Dad, what’s wrong?” There was a sigh from the other end of the line.

“Kurt, there… there was an incident.”

“Are you all right?! You didn’t have more heart trouble, did you?” Fear made his voice shrill and even higher than usual.

“I’m fine, don’t worry.”

“Carole?”

“She’s all right too. Kurt… son, it’s Blaine.” His legs must have given way, because suddenly he was kneeling on the ground. “He… he was attacked.”

Kurt heard a whimper and realized it came from his own throat. Weird. And what was this vice tightening in his chest?

“He’ll be fine,” Burt added quickly. “Physically, at least. They just patched him up in hospital and let him go...”

The fist crushing his heart released it and Kurt drew a long, shaky breath he didn’t know he needed a second ago. Blaine’s not dead. Not dead. He’ll be fine.

“… but other than that he’s in a pretty bad shape, Kurt. He really needs a friend right now. I know you guys fought recently, but do you think you could somehow put it aside and be there for him if I came to get you?”

His jaw literally dropped in surprise – his dad wanted to come get him so that he could be with Blaine? – but there was no hesitation in his voice.

“Any time.”

“Good. I’m on my way then, pack your things and be ready to go. Carole will talk to Marsha in a minute and explain. The official version is that I just need you to help me in the garage, since we’re busier than ever all of a sudden. Tell the same to Finn, let’s not spread the news yet, okay?”

“Yeah. Dad… thanks.”

Burt disconnected, leaving his son shocked, terrified, heart aching for his best friend. Sweet, kind, charming Blaine. How could anybody hurt him? Was it Karofsky and his henchmen? Some other homophobic bullies? Random mugging? And how did his father learn about it, anyway? It wasn’t as if their parents ever talked or anything. Burt shouldn’t even know if anything happened to his son’s friend, let alone be so involved. What was going on? And what did he mean by “at least physically”? What did they do to him?

The next hour and a half felt like infinity. Kurt was pretty sure there was a path worn out in the hall carpet already from all his pacing. Sound of a car braking in the driveway sent him running out, bag in hand. His father must have speeded, he thought shocked. It took them an hour more to get here when Burt was dropping him and Finn off two days before. Questions were spilling out of him the second his dad got out of the car, but then he was being crushed in a sudden hug, Thank god you’re fine murmured in his ear.

“Of course I am. Dad, what’s going on? How…?”

“In a minute, kid. Get in the car, I’ll just talk to Marsha and Finn. I’ll tell you everything on the way home.”

“But…”

Home? He didn’t have time to go home, he had to go see Blaine right away! And did he imagine the uncomfortable look on his father’s face when he said “everything”? His anxiety turned into cold terror by the time his dad was back two minutes later, phone by his ear (… yeah, we’re on our way home now, see you soon), and he couldn’t stop the word flood any longer as they were speeding along an empty road.

“Dad, I can’t go home! It will get late and Blaine’s parents won’t let me visit him today, and I have to see him. How bad is it anyway? And were they caught? The attackers? And how come you’re involved anyway?” Burt was silent, agonized look on his face scaring Kurt more by the second. “Dad?” his voice was plain squeaky now, terrified.

What made his blood go cold was that his dad actually swore, punched the steering wheel and hit the brakes sharply, stopping at the side of the road. When he faced his son, he looked older than ever and his eyes were somehow furious and compassionate at the same time.

“One, we’re going home for a reason. Two, Blaine’s got a dislocated shoulder and some cuts and bruises. Three, no, they didn’t catch the man, not yet anyway. And my involvement… Kurt, I went to get Blaine when he called your cell last night, after the assault. I took him to the ER. His fucking parents can’t be bothered and won’t return from some business trip until Sunday. Next Sunday, that’s over a week, Kurt! I don’t get it, their kid is assaulted like that and it’s like they don’t even care? ‘He’s always been overdramatic’? ‘It’s not that bad if they let him out of hospital, he’ll be fine’? Seriously?

“So he stays with us until then. In your room in fact, it’s at least a familiar place. I hope you don’t mind camping in Finn’s room for a while? I won’t leave a broken, hurt, barely holding himself together kid alone for a week with just his daddy’s secretary popping in once a day with takeout. And they call themselves parents?!” – his dad was practically rambling now, all indignant fury and flashing eyes, and Kurt threw himself in his arms, sniffling.

“Thank you dad. Thank you for helping him like that. I love you so much. You are the best person I know. Thank you.”

He hid his tear-stained face on his father’s chest, but the man was still tense, his body trembling slightly. That wasn’t all, was it? There was something else. Slowly, Kurt’s mind found the little clues: the man? Assaulted, not beaten up or attacked? Assaulted like that? It was almost like… oh. Oh no. No, he must be mistaken. That can’t be it, no. No! But his heart already knew, even before he looked up, wide-eyed and white as a sheet, searching for something, anything to stop the growing suspicion, the certainty.

“He… he wasn’t…? I mean…” The tortured look in his father’s eyes told him everything. “Blaine was raped? Oh god, no. Nonononono.”

And then he was flinging the door open and his dad was unfastening his seatbelt and holding him as he threw up, threw up until he felt empty and still he couldn’t stop the spasms and the sobbing, and tears were blinding him, and the only thing he could see was Blaine’s beautiful face, all smiles and warmth and sparkling amber eyes. And the thought that someone could do something like that… Someone…

“It was that guy, wasn’t it? Eric?” he managed to whisper.

“Yes.”

“I’ll kill the fucking bastard.” Panic was turning to rage now and he was sitting up, his whole body shaking, adrenaline pumping through his veins. “He’s already dead. I’ll eviscerate him. I’ll tear him limb from limb.” For the first time in his life, he was actually seeing red.

“No, you won’t.” His father’s hand was heavy on his arm, his voice solemn. “You will go home and help your best friend face the worst thing that’s ever happened to him. You will show him there’s at least one person in the whole world that he can really trust. You will help him find strength to face the reality of it and press charges. Because right now you seem to be the only person Blaine really reaches for, Kurt. Do you think you can deal with all this? I know how strong and brave you are, but can you be strong and brave for Blaine for a while?”

Kurt sat straight, looking defiantly forward, head held high even though tears were still streaming down his face.

“Yes, I can.”

They drove in silence the rest of the way. The sun was low when they got to Lima. Burt spoke cautiously.

“He’s still in shock, scared and shattered right now, Kurt. It’s not even been a day, he hasn’t processed it fully yet. He may get angry or shut himself in. He may push you away. He will probably flinch at any closeness. Sometimes you may not recognize him as the boy you know. But… just be there for him. Don’t push, don’t ask, don’t take it personally. Allow him some space if he wants it. And if it gets too hard at any moment, just come to me, okay?”

Kurt nodded.

“Thank you, dad. For everything.”

They were in the driveway now and he was through the front door in a heartbeat, hugging Carole briefly and sprinting upstairs, heart lodged in his throat.

Blaine was asleep, which was a really good thing, because Kurt wouldn’t want to freak him out with his gasp, his tears, the expression of horror he must have had on his face before he had the chance to compose himself. He didn’t know what he expected, but the sight of his friend’s pale, bruised face on his pillow, looking so young and vulnerable, was like a stab to the gut. Kurt wiped his eyes, took a deep steadying breath and went in. He sat on the edge of the bed, careful not to jiggle it, but he must have, because Blaine was stirring now, his face contorting in panic even as he slept on. He tossed his curly head and whimpered.

“Shhh, it’s just me, Blaine. It’s okay, shh.”

Amber eyes snapped open and there was such a flood of relief in them that Kurt felt his breath catch. Any lingering doubts he had that his friend really wanted him here, even after their recent disagreements, dissolved under this one look.

“Kurt. You’re here.”

“I’m here. Sorry I woke you.”

“I’m not. Not the best dreams ever. I’ve slept most of the day anyway.”

“How are you?”

“I’ve been better. Kurt… these last days… I’m sorry. I was such an idiot.”

“It’s okay. I’ve missed my friend though.”

“Yeah, me too.” And just like that, they were good again.

There were footsteps on the stairs and Burt came in with Kurt’s things.

“Hi, kid. You all right? Need help going to the bathroom or something?”

Blaine blushed a little.

“No, thanks. I can get up by myself. Still a bit shaky, but I manage.” As if to prove it, he sat up slowly, wincing in pain, then raised to his feet unsteadily. Kurt’s first instinct was to help, but he stopped himself; he knew what it was like, trying to hold on to any shred of dignity you had left in a tough situation. So he just smiled and went to unpack his bag.

“Okay, I think it’s time for some light entertainment, don’t you? How about a Disney marathon?” Kurt asked after his parents went downstairs. He was already shuffling through his DVD collection.

“I’m all for it.” He didn’t really feel like talking anymore and he could use some distraction from thoughts of (mouth hands teeth pain fear shame guilt) reality that kept creeping on him.

They settled on the bed and Kurt’s presence just a foot away was calming and safe, and he smelled like Kurt and his voice humming with the music every now and then was melodic and clear, and his hand was there and didn’t move, just squeezed lightly, when Blaine grabbed it like a lifeline it was, and he didn’t even know when he drifted off into peaceful sleep.