"…and if you don't want to join me, I understand."

Blaine watches Kurt round the corner, the last flap of his kilt following as he disappears out of sight. Finn's eyeing him, he can sense it. Burt shakes his head, snatching the remote and turning his attention to the television. Blaine sighs heavily. His feet and hands are unsure what to do.

He kind of screwed up.

One minute he's telling Kurt he'll gladly go to prom with him and the next minute, he's pleading to remain in the shadows.

"What was Kurt talking about?" Finn asks. "The thing, your bad experience or whatever."

Blaine shifts on the sofa, unsettled and nervous. "Nothing. Something that happened a long time ago."

"What happened?" Finn presses.

Blaine can't sit still anymore so he stands. "Don't worry about it. I should – I need to talk to Kurt."

"Door open!" Burt calls as Blaine leaves the living room.

He steps softly, taking the stairs and he notices Kurt's door is closed. He knocks twice.

There's no answer.

He turns the knob anyway, poking his head inside the room. He finds Kurt sitting on the edge of the bed, facing away from the door, undoing his boots.

"Kurt? Can I come in?"

"Keep the door open or my dad will murder you."

Blaine nods, even though he knows Kurt can't see him. He enters the room, leaving the door partially open behind him.

"Can I sit down?" he asks.

"You don't have to ask permission to do everything," Kurt snaps. But as soon as Blaine edges around the foot of the bed to take a seat, Kurt sets his boots aside and stands up. "Was there something you needed?"

Blaine watches Kurt pull off his jacket, the suit jacket he'd made with his own two hands.

"I needed to tell you that I'm sorry," Blaine says quietly as Kurt tugs the suit jacket onto a hanger, placing it back into his closet.

"You have nothing to be sorry for."

"I think I do."

"You don't need to apologize," Kurt says, his hands busy unfastening his bowtie. He tosses it onto his bed with an intense bit of anger before starting on the buttons of his shirt. "I know perfectly well why you don't want to go."

"I never said I didn't want to go."

"It's obvious you don't."

"I didn't-"

"It's fine."

"Kurt! Will you just – just stop for a few minutes and listen to me?" Blaine pleads loudly.

Kurt freezes. Blaine doesn't raise his voice very often, at least not outside of Warbler rehearsals.

"Will you sit? Please?"

Dropping his hands, Kurt seats himself on the bed next to Blaine. He doesn't look at him. He plucks the bowtie off the bedspread and fidgets with nervous fingers.

Blaine takes a deep breath. And then another. He doesn't quite know how to continue but he knows he has to speak now that he finally has Kurt's attention.

So he goes with honesty.

"I'm terrified," he admits, voice pitched low and shaky. "I'm terrified."

Kurt quits toying with the bowtie and turns to face his boyfriend. This time though, it's Blaine who can't make eye contact. He'd never admitted to being afraid like this. Sure, he's confided in Kurt, telling him he's confused, maybe a little lost, occasionally nervous for a test.

But never terrified.

"I'm scared it's going to happen again. But to you. To both of us. I don't know what I'd do if someone hurt you at prom the way they did me at that dance."

Blaine forces back a tear and he's startled when Kurt's hand covers his own.

"I told you I understood. It's okay if you don't want to go."

"You shouldn't – shouldn't have to understand," Blaine whispers. "It shouldn't even be an issue. We should just be able to go to prom and enjoy the night. Like everyone else."

"Like every straight couple, you mean," Kurt adds.

Blaine nods. He turns his palm over and entwines their fingers, squeezing Kurt's hand.

"You look fantastic," Blaine says, lifting his eyes to meet Kurt's gaze. "In your suit, I mean. You look amazing."

"…Thank you."

"I've never seen anyone look so good in a kilt before," Blaine speaks with a slight, nervous laugh. "And I want to see you in it. On prom night. I just – I don't want-"

"To cause any unnecessary attention. I know."

Blaine lowers his head once more, watching Kurt's thumb stroke over his knuckle.

"I don't want to give anyone a reason to seek you out and hurt you."

"Or you," Kurt states.

"This isn't about me."

He doesn't even look up, but he knows Kurt raises a disbelieving eyebrow.

He also knows he's lying to himself.

"You're right," Blaine says softly. "I don't want to get hurt either."

Blaine falls silent. He feels Kurt edge over, close enough so that their thighs are touching. Kurt pulls his fingers out of Blaine's grip, placing his hand on the back of Blaine's neck instead while the other hand comes to a rest on Blaine's knee.

"What're you thinking?" Kurt asks, the words hushed and gentle.

Biting his lip, Blaine raises his head, catching Kurt's eyes. He stares into them. They're kind. And they're honest. Kurt has always been honest with him.

He has to do the same.

"I don't – I don't want to belittle your pain. I don't want this to seem like I think…that what you went through wasn't bad. Because it was, it was horrible. You never should have had to go through all that stuff with Karofsky or the other bullies at your school."

Blaine goes quiet again. Kurt waits patiently and Blaine is thankful for that. He doesn't want to sound cruel or heartless but he just…he has to say it.

"But you don't know what it's like to be beaten senseless. You don't know what it's like to end up in a hospital after a school dance and be bloody, bruised, or with a broken arm. You don't know what it's like to wake up and see your father standing next to your bed and the only thing he has to say is, 'I told you so.'"

"…What was it your father told you?" Kurt asks.

"He told me not to go to the dance with another boy because if I did, I was asking to get my ass kicked."

Kurt's fingers trail over the warm skin on the back of Blaine's neck. He doesn't speak for a long moment.

"You're right," Kurt finally says. "I don't know what that's like. I know I'm lucky to have my dad and I know I'm lucky that he's so supportive."

Blaine nods because Kurt is lucky. He's so very, very lucky.

"I know something else too," Kurt says quietly. "I know that I can't let them win. I know that I won't let myself be run out of my own life again. And I know that, by not going to prom or not wearing what I want, I'd be doing exactly that."

Unable to hold back any longer, a single tear slips from the corner of Blaine's eye. "I don't want you to get hurt," he says brokenly.

"I know," Kurt states. "I don't want to get hurt either. And I don't want you to get hurt. But I also don't want you to be scared anymore. No one has the right to make you scared of being yourself."

Blaine rests his head on Kurt's shoulder so Kurt's fingers abandon their place on Blaine's neck and slip down to his arm instead, pulling him into a hug.

"You may not realize this, Blaine…but you taught me that," Kurt whispers. "Probably unknowingly. In a roundabout way, maybe, but you did. And I think I'm a better person for that."

Kurt hugs tighter as Blaine buries his face in the crook of Kurt's neck.

"So let me teach you, too," Kurt begs.

Blaine's arms shoot over to hold Kurt around his middle. He's shaking a little bit. He's never felt so open, so vulnerable to another person or their presence but Kurt…Kurt.

"We have the right to have a happy night," Kurt continues. "And you have the right to a second chance at happiness."

Blaine breathes in deeply, the sob caught in his throat dies and he relaxes in Kurt's embrace. Blaine always felt like…like he needed to protect Kurt. Like he needed to take care of him or shield him from the bad. But now that the tables seem to have turned…

It's not as hard as he thought it would be.

"Besides," Kurt says with a smile in his voice, "some say that, to find happiness, you have to take a few risks."

Blaine doesn't quite know if he's willing to risk getting beaten up again.

But with Kurt by his side, he thinks that maybe, just maybe, together they can weather whatever comes their way.

He lifts his head, their eyes locking once again.

"You're the bravest person I know," Blaine says, the corner of his lips quirking up into a small smile as one hand slides up to cup Kurt's cheek.

After a few long, silent minutes, Blaine gets down on one knee on the floor, taking Kurt's hands in his.

"Kurt Hummel, I would be honored if you would allow me to escort you to your junior prom."

He notes how Kurt's breath catches, how his eyes shine, how color rises to his cheeks as he blushes a faint tinge of pink.

"Of course," Kurt breathes.

"On one condition," Blaine says quickly.

"And what's that?"

"You finish making your suit. And you rock the hell out of it on prom night."

END.