When Kurt wakes up, it's barely light outside. He's startled by a soft snore and notices Blaine next to him. His heart starts to beat faster in his chest and fear takes over. He glances down and lets out a relieved sigh when he realises he's still wearing his pyjamas with a thick, wide sweater on top. He was cold last night and he couldn't let his guard down, even in his sleep.

He carefully pries Blaine's fingers from his hand, putting his boyfriend's warm hand down. He slowly lets himself slide out of bed and quietly shuffles to the bathroom to use the toilet. He washes his hands and looks at the scale that is shoved underneath the sink. He's terrified for the number, especially after two Christmas meals. Yesterday, he didn't have time to weight himself, because Blaine had been around him the whole time. Then Rachel had claimed his attention and Carole had given him breakfast. Which he had eaten. Well, a quarter of it. The rest was shoved into the trash can while Carole was getting Finn.

He bites his lower lip, hard. He just needs to know. So he closes the door, locks it and picks up the scale with trembling hands. He puts it down, strips off his clothes, takes about five to ten minutes staring at his reflection in disgust, and gets onto the scale. As the numbers stop changing, a soft sob escapes his lips.

116.8

This number isn't right. At all. He gained 2.2 pounds in two days, because of those stupid dinners and Carole's stupid need to feed him breakfast. No wonder he is such a fat cow. People needed to stop feeding him. He looks at the toilet, but knows it's a lost case. He hasn't eaten anything recently and his try from two days ago failed miserably, actually leaving him feeling even worse.

So instead he opens his bag with moisturiser products and takes his razors from the bottom of the bag, safely hidden into a make-up case. He glances at the door, mumbling a "Blaine, I'm so sorry.." and presses the cold metal against the skin of his inner arm, just above his wrist. Apologizing to Blaine has become a stupid habit. It's a stupid one, because Blaine has no idea what he's doing. But maybe that's the reason he's apologising. Kurt doesn't know. He's just staring as blood starts to drip into the sink. Red meeting white. It's fascinating and it gives him an adrenaline rush, encouraging him to cut again. And again. And again. Four beautiful cuts that are now leaking blood.

He cleans the razor and puts it back into the case, hiding it again. He attempts to clean the wound as much as he can and wraps a bandage around his arm. Then he puts his clothes back on and pushes the scale back in its place. Just in time.

"Kurt? Are you almost done in there? I kinda really need to use the toilet."

"One second, baby."

He washes the blood away in the sink and puts his toothbrush in his mouth, before unlocking the door, deciding he looks totally innocent like this.

"It's all yours. I'll just wait until you're finished."

Blaine laughs softly.

"I won't take long."

"Good."

Kurt sits down on the bed, while Blaine does his business in the bathroom. His toothbrush remains in his mouth without purpose. He just stares at the wall. He hears the toilet flushing and the running of water as Blaine obviously washes his hands. He lets out a sigh and walks back to the bathroom.

"I'm going to shower. Why don't you have breakfast?"

"Great idea, baby. I'll see you upstairs then?"

"Sure."

Blaine disappears towards the kitchen upstairs and Kurt takes off his clothes once again. He closes the bathroom door, but doesn't lock it. It's kind of a rule his father made when he was little. No locking the bathroom door while showering, in case something happens. Burt seemed to be afraid he'd fall, knock himself unconscious and drown or something. Still, he kept the promise, so it was kind of natural for him to not lock the door in his father's house.

He takes another moment to judge his body. He is obviously fatter again. Stupid food. Stupid Carole. Stupid Christmas. Stupid Blaine.

No, he shouldn't blame anyone but himself. He is the one eating all that crap. He failed. Kurt. Not Blaine. Blaine didn't do anything wrong. Kurt knows his boyfriend is worried. He just can't let him know what he's doing.

His eyes sting, while he looks at his reflection. "Fucking pear shape." He mutters.

God, he wishes he had a different body. He wishes he could be pretty and thin. Or at least have muscles. Or a more male body. Why did he ever quit the Cheerios? It was at least something to keep him in shape. But, no, he had to be lazy and stupid. And this was his punishment. An ugly, misshaped, chubby, wrongbody.

Softly cursing himself, he takes off the bandage. It isn't really dirty, so if he keeps it dry, he might be able to re-use it after his shower. Then he turns on the water, making sure it's hot – almost scalding. Maybe he could burn some fat away if the water is hot enough.

He hisses as the water hits his body. His legs feel weak and his bones are aching. Kurt closes his eyes, wishing he would just disappear already. His arms burns like hell when the water hits the cuts.

"Fuck, fuck, fuck!"

He quickly pulls his arm out of the stream of water, tears stinging in his eyes. That hurt. A lot. He can't help but starting to cry softly. Why did everything have to be so messed up? Why is he still alive? Why is Blaine still with him?

Feeling completely broken, Kurt leans against the tiles. His entire body hurts, his arm even more. His stomach is growling, his hair is falling out and he's completely alone in this. Another sigh leaves his lips and he tries to relax underneath the hot water.

He's trying so hard, that he doesn't notice the bathroom door opening or Blaine slipping into the bathroom.