The following Sunday was a particularly horrid day for Kurt.

He, Mercedes, Tina, and Rachel had been at the mall. Just as they were about to leave, a group of McKinley's finest, including Karofsky and Azimio, walked in.

"Look who it is," Azimio had announced loudly. "Not enough boys at your little fag school, princess?"

"Back off, boy," Mercedes had said threateningly.

"Not my fault he ran out of McKinley liked a scared little girl," Azimio had said, nudging Karofsky who had paused.

But of course he began to play along and grinned maliciously with the rest of the jocks in the group.

"Yeah, not getting enough dick at your new school, Hummel? Had to come to the mall to look for more?" Karofsky joined in on the harassment.

"Screw you," Kurt had spat, eyeing him, the secret between them obvious in his gaze.

"You wish!" Karofsky countered, returning the high five Azimio held his hand up for.

"Funny, I figured you'd be the one who 'wished'," Kurt snapped, appearing a lot braver on the outside that he actually felt.

"Shut your mouth, faggot!" Karofsky had growled, advancing on Kurt right there in the middle of the mall entrance.

Kurt jumped back, reflexes kicking in immediately as Mercedes gave a good shove to Karofsky's shoulder.

A few seconds later a security guard had wandered over to see what the problem was and the two groups parted ways, sending sneers at each other's backs.

Hours later, Kurt sits alone in his dorm room. He's clad in a pair of sweatpants and shirt that doesn't even match. He's seated on his bed, back against the wall with his knees tucked up to his chest.

He doesn't – doesn't know why he feels like this. He doesn't know why he feels so beat down. Kurt knows he's been in worse situations. Karofsky didn't even put a hand on him today, didn't touch a single hair on his head, but for some reason he's trembling. His breath stutters in his chest. He's looking around the room with an almost blank stare, catching sight of Blaine's open books on his desk, the haphazard way he'd made his bed, the lonely guitar case sitting in the corner.

Kurt hates that this is the only place he feels safe, this place he shares with Blaine, this place where he feels so comfortable. He hates that he can't be at home in his room amongst all of his clothes. He despises the fact that he's so reliant on these walls to keep the good in and keep the bad out.

He hates that he doesn't have a choice.

Laughter echoes just outside the door to the room and Kurt wipes hastily at the tears that suddenly make themselves known on his face. The door knob turns and Blaine walks in, snorting in amusement at something someone said just before he bids them goodbye. He closes the door and turns, catching sight of Kurt on the bed.

"Kurt?" Blaine asks in concern. "What's wrong?"

Kurt shakes his head and sniffles, attempting to smile. He fails miserably. Blaine shrugs off his coat and moves to stand in front of him.

"Hey. What's wrong?" he asks again.

"Nothing," Kurt replies, his voice scratchy from an hour of disuse. Had he really been sitting here alone for an hour? "It's not a big deal."

"It's big enough," Blaine comments. "You're crying."

"I'm okay," Kurt says. "Don't worry about it."

"Well I'm worrying," Blaine states as he quickly kicks of his shoes and climbs onto the bed.

"You don't have to-"

"Shut up," Blaine stops him, seating himself next to Kurt. He wraps an arm around Kurt's shoulders, pulling him into an embrace.

Kurt goes somewhat reluctantly. He leans his head on Blaine's shoulder, letting Blaine hold on as tight as he wants.

"What happened?"

Sighing tiredly, Kurt tells him. "I had a run in with Karofsky and a bunch of other guys from McKinley at the mall today."

Blaine slips a finger under Kurt's chin, forcing him to look up. "Did he hurt you?" he asks almost angrily.

"No," Kurt shakes his head, eyes still locked on Blaine's.

"Good." Blaine sighs in what seems like relief and drops his hand, wrapping his arm around Kurt once more. "What happened, then?"

Kurt's still sniffling from his bout of crying earlier but he turns, knees bent over Blaine's outstretched thighs, and tucks his head against Blaine's chest.

"They were just harassing me," Kurt shrugs pitifully. "I snapped at Karofsky and he came at me, but I moved away and Mercedes shoved him back. A security guard interrupted."

He feels Blaine nod above him and then feels his chin rest on top of Kurt's head.

"He didn't even – I don't…I don't know why – why I'm so scared all of the sudden. He's done way worse. But I just can't…I don't know."

"Well he's hurt you before. Plenty of times. In various ways. I think you have the right to be shaken after your tormentor decided to come at you again."

"I hate that it feels like this," Kurt admits quietly. "I hate that I'm still scared."

"It's okay," Blaine assures him, arms still wrapped possessively around Kurt's body.

They're quiet for a long while. Blaine holds him. Kurt sighs into his friend's shirt. He doesn't know what he feels right now. He still hates that he has to rely on these walls. He hates that he can't be safe everywhere. But here, wrapped up in Blaine, breathing him in, things are so calm.

He can't control anything, Kurt realizes abruptly.

He's got to rely on everything else, on another person.

Kurt's never felt so weak in his life.

"Blaine," Kurt bites out brokenly, hand fisting into Blaine's shirt.

"I'm right here," Blaine assures him, arms coming around Kurt's knees now, pulling him against his body. He's holding on to Kurt with every ounce of strength he has. Kurt can feel it. "I'm here, Kurt, I'm here."

Kurt can't stop the tears from coming. He cries hard, sobs wracking his thin frame.

Why can't things be easy? Why can't he be – be normal or something? Why does he feel worthless and broken and bruised?

He realizes he's clawing at the collar of Blaine's shirt and he rips his hand away, feeling so pathetic. But Blaine grabs hold of his hand and twines their fingers together, squeezing tightly.

"Don't," Blaine says gently. "It's okay to need comfort, Kurt."

And that simple statement has Kurt sobbing all over again. He's pressing himself into Blaine, wanting to sink into him, wanting to curl up and give up.

It feels like he cries for hours.

He doesn't know when they moved, doesn't know how they're both laying down, his back spooned firmly against Blaine's front. But Blaine's tucked behind him and he's holding Kurt's hand right over his heart. The sun has set and they're smothered in darkness. Kurt's cries have died down and now he's just exhausted, breathing deeply, tired eyes staring into the blackness of the room.

"It took me months," Blaine speaks softly. "I was scared for a long time."

"I hate it."

"I know. I know it's hard to be here. I know it's hard to – to let everything go. It's hard to get used to not having so much control over your life. But it'll get easier."

"I don't want to have to hide myself away."

"I don't want you to either," Blaine says, nose rubbing slowly at the back of Kurt's neck. "I know that I can't – can't be your everything."

Kurt's breath hitches.

"But I can be something," Blaine whispers. "You don't have to hide yourself away when you're with me."

Kurt's eyes fall shut and he clenches his fingers around Blaine's.

"Thank you."

Maybe…maybe something is all he needs.

For now.