Right now, I feel like nothing in the world can touch me, nothing, not while I’m still sitting here, in the irrefutable safety of Burt’s car, and that’s such a wonderful, unfamiliar, empowering feeling that I can’t help but smile. It’s not a wide, toothy, heart-bursting grin but a soft, heartfelt expression and that still has to mean something. This, whatever this is, is my home and Burt Hummel, well, he’s my home too. He makes me feel unafraid and unashamed of the thoughts and feelings that I’m so used to being humiliated by. He embraces my opinions and the little things that make me Blaine Anderson, I don‘t have to be who I‘m not around him; I don‘t have to filter myself, it’s perfectly fine for me to be me and whatever that entails. It’s perfectly okay for me to spend my weekends pouring over books and musical scores, it’s perfectly okay for me to watch those old, black and white romantic movies and recite them back to the screen, word for word; it’s perfectly okay for me to be gay. Those things don’t warrant punishment. Those things aren’t bad. Those things don’t make me more or less of a man. It’s absolutely okay to be everything that I am and that may seem really obvious to you but for most of my life I’ve been told that everything I do is wrong; that my best just wasn’t good enough. And all by the only man that I’ve ever wanted to impress. It’s a lot to wrap my head around.

We pull into the driveway of the Hummel-Hudson household, a soft yellow light illuminating the front door, calling us inside with it’s majestic, symbolic warmth, as Burt brings us to a steady halt. Burt’s such a careful driver and for obvious reasons, reasons that involve my mom, that gives me a lot of comfort. I don’t feel like I have to worry about him quite as much, even though I still will. I know I’ll never not worry about that because cars just make me far too nervous. I wonder then if I should write that down in the book that Ellen gave me. I glance down at the notebook, resting on my thighs, and then quickly out of the window. I freeze when I see myself. Even through the slightly blurred transparency of the glass I can see my bright, flushed cheeks and my sore, slightly swollen eyelids. I instinctively reach out a hand and pull down the passenger-side mirror. I look absolutely awful. I let out a huff of disgust.

Burt sits stoically next to me as I stare at myself in the small mirror. My eyes boring critically into my reflection but Burt’s eyes aren’t even on me, it’s like he knows. We haven’t exchanged a word, not since we started the drive back, we’ve just been surrounded by silence but it’s not that awkward, uncomfortable silence. It’s that soft, familiar, comfortable kind of silence. The silence you fall asleep to when you’re at your most relaxed. It’s like being wrapped in big, warm blanket while your head sinks into a plump, soft pillow. It’s the perfect kind of silence. I think Burt understands that and he knows that, right now, I just need a moment to myself. I need to do this, I need to see what I really look like. I don’t want to look dreadful when I get out of this car and walk into that house because I know they’ll all be waiting for me, of course they will, they care, and I just don’t want them to worry about me or look at me with those sad eyes. Because despite everything that’s happened today, despite the intensity and the emotion, I already feel lighter. Like a tiny part of the load has been taken off my back and pulled away from my shoulders and I don‘t want to ruin that with the way I look. I don’t want them to get the wrong impression and start assuming that today was fruitless because something happened today and even though I can’t quite put my finger on it I know that it’s huge.

Both of my cheeks are stained with dark, deep red blotches and my eyelids are so heavy and swollen that a soft gasp slips past my lips when I try to look into my own eyes. I’d have to sit out here for hours for this to go away- for the blotches to fade and for my eyes to look normal again. I can’t help but think that even when my father beat me, even when I had a face full of bruises, even when I had to skip school to keep it all a secret, I never looked this bad. My eyes look so different now. Sometimes I can’t recognise myself and that worries me at first but then I just end up wondering if I even knew myself to begin with. I’m not sure that I did. I’m not sure that my father didn’t suffocate and smother me beyond recognition. Even to myself. I turn my head away then and flip the mirror up before I press my forehead against the glass, it‘s so cold that it‘s almost soothing against the brilliant warmth of my skin. I shiver.

“You okay, buddy?” Burt asks then and I shake my head as my mood starts to plummet, I don’t have the energy to lie to him and I wouldn’t anyway- not to Burt. We’ve been through too much, especially today. We sat in the car park behind Ellen’s office for an hour and a half today; before I’d calmed down enough to breathe and Burt was convinced enough to draw his arms back from me and start driving. How could I lie to him? He lets me live in his house, he’s bought me new clothes, he feeds me three times a day, the talks to me about my feelings, he‘s building my self-esteem back up and he paid for me to see Ellen earlier. Out of everyone, I think I owe Burt the most.

“I’m just so tired.” I whisper eventually and we both know that there are layers of meaning in that statement. I’m exhausted because I can’t sleep at night. I’m run down because of what happened today. I just want to fall asleep. I just need a break for a while. A moment of peace. Though, it’s not like before, I don’t want to fall asleep and never wake up, I just want to fall asleep so I have the energy in the morning to live. I’m sick of clinging to ‘okay’ while a tempest of uncertainty brews ferociously in my mind. I need calmer tides, softer winds and a beacon of hope. Mostly, though, I just need to breathe. I just need to step away from the intensity of my life for a while.

“You can go straight to bed, you don’t have to see anyone.” Burt reassures then and I frown. I wonder if he can see it on my face or reflected in the glass because he can definitely see it. That much is obvious by the way he shifts.

“They’ll worry about me.” I whisper sincerely into the window, my breath forming a cloud of condensation, and Burt reaches out a steady hand then, because his hands are always steady, and places it softly on top of mine.

“It’s okay to do things for yourself, son, that doesn’t make you selfish.” Burt promises and I look back at him then, his eyes urging me to believe him. My own eyes start to fill because he’s calling me ‘son’ again and more than anything I wish that I was his son. In the short time I’ve known him Burt’s been more of a dad to me than my father has been in his entire life. He lets me know that he cares.

“I just want to sleep without waking up scared.” I whisper then as I drag my eyes to our hands, his thumb stroking over mine. Even men like Burt, manly men, men who like sports, own a garage, wear plaid and watch The Deadliest Catch, they can do this too and it’s okay. I think of all the excuses I’ve made for my father over the years, on his behalf, and I cringe. None of that was my fault. I can see that now.

“Look, Blaine, it's alright, I’ll tell them you’re tired. That’s an okay thing to do here.” Burt reassures and I nod.

“Can you-- can you send Kurt down? I need him to sleep properly… I know that sounds so pathetic and weak and it probably is but--” Burt shakes his head and it stops me short.

“Don‘t do that, kid, don‘t belittle yourself like you and your feelings don‘t matter.” he says firmly and I can‘t help but think of Kurt, they sound so alike sometimes, “It’s okay to need support and comfort from the people who care about you, Blaine.” He finishes firmly and I nod.

“Thank you.” Is say sincerely and when I look back up to his eyes he squeezes my hand.

“You’re welcome. Now go and get some real sleep. Kurt will be down as soon as he sees me, no doubt.” He shares with a knowing smile and I smile back at him as we climb out of the car.

I slam the car door closed then and the THUD it causes makes me jump out of my skin. My heart’s pounding again. My eyes are flying open. I look from Burt’s concerned face down to the notebook in my hands and I think I probably ought to write that down because it happens a lot.

I’ve been alone in Kurt’s room for less than ten minutes when he emerges from the stairs. Burt was right, he obviously came down here as soon as he could, I feel a small smile ghost over my lips. I’m sitting comfortably on his bed, my back against his head board, the notebook that Ellen gave me open on my thighs and a heap of cushions and pillows surrounding me to keep me upright.

Kurt looks so beautiful as he walks towards me and I just can’t take my eyes off him, his hair is as perfect as it always is, coiffed in that way that squares out his face and gives him a whole new edge. His perfectly coordinated clothes cling to him in all the right places, drawing attention to his beautiful legs and his broadening chest. His body is changing everyday and yet everyday he somehow knows where to bring the attention. I put the pen I’m holding down then and I look at him, I really look at him. He’s absolutely breathtaking. He chooses that moment to pull an arm from behind his back and in doing so he reveals a white, cardboard box.

“Hey, you.” he says when he reaches his bed, only faltering slightly when he sees my face, he doesn’t say a word about it. He just smiles warmly at me and my heart skips a beat.

“I got us something from the store while you were out today.” Kurt says casually as he climbs onto the bed, folding his legs underneath himself and settling down a few feet away from me.

“What is it?” I ask curiously, gesturing to the box, and he smiles, like he‘s proud of himself, a knowing look plastered on his face.

“You keep waking up at night.” he says then, somewhat obviously, and I frown.

“Yes, I do.” I say carefully, waiting to see where this is going, even though I can already feel my defences building, my muscles tensing and my back straightening.

“And then, when you’re awake, your father tries to hurt you.” Kurt says finishes quietly, his eyes slipping downwards. He looks so vulnerable when he does that and I don’t like that, not at all. I want to reach out and lift his chin up but I don’t because I’m really too exhausted to talk about this right now.

“Kurt-- I’m too tired to think about this.. I just want to--” I start purposefully and his head shoots up. His eyes searching mine quickly.

“No. No, that’s not what I mean. Okay, let me explain. You lock yourself in my bathroom because that makes you feel safe, right?” He asks swiftly and I nod, “But you can’t sleep in the bathroom forever, Blaine. So, I bought us this.” he says softly, his face lighting up again.

“What is it?” I ask once more and this time he opens the box and hands it over to me. Letting me look at it before he continues.

“It’s a lock for the door, the bedroom door, it’s really secure and the guy who sold it to me said that no one would be able to break it down. Not ever.” Kurt says proudly and I tilt my head at him in confusion.

“Y-you did that for me?” I ask, bewildered by his kindness, my mouth falling open a little. I don’t know what this says about me, or my life, but this is the greatest gift I have ever received.

“Of course I did.” he says firmly; like my reaction is ridiculous.

“Kurt, I don’t know what to say.” I offer then, touching the cold metal that lies under my fingertips. Gasping softly as it cools my skin.

“Just tell me that you think it’s a good idea?” he asks uncertainly and I look up at him. I see the worry start to spread across his features. His eyebrows falling as his eyes change and his lips part.

“Yes, Kurt.. I just.. thank you.” I respond sincerely and I can feel my heart start to swell as he smiles at me.

“You’re very welcome, as always.” he replies, laying a hand over mine, “Now hopefully you can fall asleep a bit easier.” He whispers like he’s telling me a secret.

“Wait--” I say suddenly as a realisation dawns on me. Kurt pulls his hand away then, as if he‘s not sure if he caused my reaction or not.

“What?” Kurt says then and a frown pulls fretfully at the corners of his mouth.

“Kurt-- maybe you shouldn’t. I mean, what if I freak out and you’re locked down here with me?” I say seriously, my voice low and firm, but he just shakes his head.

“Look, Blaine, I understand that you’re worried about that, I do, but I trust you, okay? You need to trust yourself more. We made your father go away last night and we can do it again. I know we can.” He promises and I nod uncertainly. I’m not entirely convinced.

“My dad thinks this is a great idea, Blaine. He even gave me the address of the store. He thinks most of my ideas are bat shit.. so that’s is a really good sign and you know how much he cares about you.” he informs and at the mention of Burt I look up. I stare at him for a while then, trying to decide what the best thing to do is and then I say, “Okay, but only if you‘re sure, Kurt.” He smiles.

“I am.” he says and then he looks at the notebook on my legs, tilting his head at it, “What is that? You don’t have to tell me, obviously, but if you want to you can.”

I smile at him then because out of everyone, Kurt is the only person I’d be one hundred percent comfortable with seeing this. I close the notebook and hand it over to him without reservation. I take a deep breath; I start explaining.

I wake up to the familiar aroma of Kurt’s pancakes and for the first time in a long time my head feels almost perfectly clear. I feel suspiciously okay, my head isn‘t pounding, my cheeks aren‘t damp and my back isn‘t aching from sleeping awkwardly on the bathroom floor. It hits me then, the realisation that I’ve slept the whole night through. I didn’t wake up terrified, not once, and I know on some level that that’s not because of the lock that Kurt and Finn fixed on the door before I fell asleep. I know that it’s because every time I did wake up my hand was held tightly in Kurt’s.

My stomach growls then and I carefully pull the covers away from my body, throwing my legs over the edge of the bed and stretching my arms upwards as my feet hit the ground. The floor is so cold today, I shudder from the sensation and pull myself upright. It’s time to start the day.

I shuffle into Kurt’s bathroom then, still under the powerful influence of sleep, and I tidy myself up a bit. I run one of Kurt’s combs through my hair but it does little to tame my curls. By the time I’ve brushed my teeth and washed my face my stomach starts to rumble again and the scents that are wafting down the stairs are making my mouth water. It smells heavenly. I can’t wait to get up the stairs. Today is going to be a good day, I can feel it.

When I reach the kitchen, I stride inside, expecting to see Kurt hard at work, slaving over the stove, adding all of those secret ingredients to the mix with his usual flare. I expect to see him standing there casually with one hand on his hip as the cooks his pancakes to their usual perfection but that’s not what I see, not at all. Not even close. What I actually see is the back of a mohawk.

I see Puck.

He definitely wasn’t here when I went to sleep and so I instantly start to wonder if he came here late last night or early this morning because it’s barely five minutes past seven. That’s early by anybody’s standards.

“Puck?” I say eventually and he jumps before he turns to look at me, a soft smile playing on his lips. He looks so tired but otherwise he looks like his usual self.

“Breakfast?” he asks, raising an eyebrow slightly, and I nod.

“I didn’t know you could cook, Puckerman.” I tease lightly and he laughs.

“I’m just watching them for your boyfriend.” Puck says, mock kissing the air, teasing me right back, I pull my best unimpressed face.

“Where is Kurt?” I ask then as he turns his attention back to the food.

“He’s in the living room, he’s arguing with Mr. H.” Puck informs, before he seems to freeze, looking back over his shoulder at me briefly, I frown and my heart starts to sink. They can’t be arguing, they’re too perfect for that. They weren’t ever supposed to fight.

My heart starts to race.

“They’re fighting?” I ask quietly then and Puck shakes his head in concern. Moving the pan away from the heat and then completely abandoning it. He walks towards me then, putting a soft hand on my arm. I almost whimper.

“No. Blaine, don’t worry about this, okay? It’s just Princess being Princess.” He reassures but that doesn’t stop my insides from squirming.

“But Puck--” I start and he moves his hand to my shoulder, he catches my gaze then and his eyes are full of worry.

“I know, okay? This isn’t that kind of fighting, Blaine. It’s not even fighting it’s just Kurt disagreeing with his dad. It wont end badly.” He promises as if he can read my mind.

“You can’t know that.” I whisper quietly and I look towards the living room in horror as the muffled shouting gets louder.

“I do know that.” he says firmly, “They love each other. That’s something we never had in our situations, Blaine, so it‘s hard for us to see the difference sometimes but it‘s there.” He explains and I want to believe him, I do, but I feel like my world is slowly collapsing around me.

“What if--” I start and he shakes his head firmly, his brows furrowed.

“No what if’s, okay? This used to freak me out too, when Finn and his mom fought about things, but it’s not the same as what you went through or what I went through. It’s so far away from being to the same, Blaine. No one‘s getting hurt here, they‘re literally just talking loudly.” Puck smiles but I don’t smile back, I feel like my confidence is draining away. Today isn’t going to be a good day, not at all. I feel stupid again. Darkness floods my insides.

“What is it about?” I mutter eventually and Puck squeezes my shoulder.

“Just school. Kurt doesn’t want to go in today but Mr. H is saying he’s going anyway. You know what Kurt’s like sometimes, Blaine, he says what he thinks and he‘s stubborn about it.”

“Why wouldn’t he go to --” I start but I’m cut off when the living room door bursts open, crashing into the wall and Kurt bursts out, his face red with anger.

“You can’t make me go, dad!” Kurt says as he storms down the hallway, his hands raised high.

“Oh, you think so? We’ll see about that!” Burt shouts, following his son out of the living room.

“I’d like to see you try!” Kurt shouts and I flinch. He’s provoking him, I feel incredibly nervous. Puck reaches down and holds my hand.

“Oh, you’re going!” Burt shouts and as he takes a step towards Kurt I take a step backwards. I shake my head and close my eyes but suddenly Puck is in front of me and his hands are curled gently around my arms.

“Blaine?” He whispers quickly as I hear a gasp in the distance. I’m not sure that I like the sound of it but no one is shouting, not anymore, and I do like that.

“Blaine? Are you okay?” Kurt asks urgently then and somehow he’s right next to me.

“No.” I say honestly, opening my eyes briefly, “You’re fighting.” I say and Kurt shakes his head.

I close my eyes again the and cling to Puck’s hand. I feel so stupid.

“Blaine, look at me, please?” Kurt asks in a whisper and eventually I do, “Do you trust me?”

“I-- of course I do, Kurt.” I reply in one long, quiet breath and he nods.

“Then I promise you: we’re not fighting.” he says before he looks back at his dad. Burt looks absolutely pained.

Burt moves forwards then, emotion swimming in his eyes, and places a hand on Kurt’s shoulder. Kurt doesn’t see it coming but he doesn’t flinch either. He just reaches his hand up towards his own shoulder and touches Burt’s fingers. Burt smiles regretfully then and presses a quick kiss into Kurt’s hair.

“I just didn’t want to leave you here.” Kurt confesses suddenly and I bite my lip. It’s hard not to blame myself when I’m armed with that kind of knowledge.

“Kurt,” Burt starts then, “You need to go to school, son. Blaine will be fine, I’m two minutes away and Puck’s here all day because he’s been suspended … again.” I look at Puck then and he shrugs, our hands jumping upwards together, “He had it coming, Mr. H.”

Burt just smiles at him fondly.

“My point is, Kurt, Blaine’s not alone and we’re gonna have to find him a new school to go to soon anyway. I‘d hate for anyone of you boys to fall behind, you‘re all far too smart for bad grades.” Burt explains and eventually Kurt nods in agreement.

“I just wish you were coming, Blaine.” Kurt says sadly and I nod.

“You can’t pass up a school like Dalton, Kurt.” I try and he sighs.

“I know. It’s just going to be really weird without you there.” he confesses.

“It’s going to be really weird not going there.” I concur and Burt smiles gently at us.

“You should go and get into your uniform.” Burt says then and Kurt frowns once more before he walks up to me and gives me a quick hug. He smiles at Puck then and turns himself around, heading to his room.

“Are you okay, kid?” Burt asks then and I nod once.

“Yeah, I guess. Shouting just makes me worry.” I say and he frowns.

“I’m sorry if I upset you, son.” Burt promises and I smile, “I’m okay now.”

“Good. Come here.” Burt says then, opening his arms, I let go of Puck’s hand then and walk straight to him, letting him wrap his strong, comforting arms around me.

It’s takes less than ten seconds for Puck to walk over and wrap his arms around me too. His warm body pressed into my back.

“We’re gonna have fun today, you‘ll see.” Puck whispers cheerily into the shell of my ear and I can’t help but smile because, out of everyone, Puck’s the one who understands this from my point of view.