Kurt and I are barely inside the house, our fingers blue and numb from the cold, when we start stripping off our damp coats and scarves. Utterly desperate for the warmth of the house to touch our cold skin instead of our rain-wet clothes and even though the heating had been on at it’s highest setting in Kurt’s car the plummeting weather had, for all intents and purposes, rendered it beyond useless. Kurt had proceeded to rant about useless cars and faulty parts and how he was going to get his dad to have a proper look at it later and I had just sat there, silently, with a baffled expression on my face. Listening to him talk about technical things while using words that I’d never even heard before.

It always amazes me that Kurt knows so much about cars, how to build them, how to fix them; how to make them run more efficiently. It shouldn’t be a surprise, not really, because Burt’s a mechanic and Kurt goes to help his dad out whenever he can - in his spotless blue coveralls- but it’s still a shock somehow. And I feel absolutely awful for stereotyping him, even in my head, but you just don’t imagine that the lean, perfectly groomed boy who slips into French occasionally and reads Vogue magazine religiously would be capable of changing a tyre in two minutes flat or diagnosing serious engine problems in no time at all.. but he can and he does and I love that about him. I love that almost as much as I love the way his nose scrunched up five seconds ago- when we’d both instinctively dropped the bags of shopping we were holding to the floor with a heavy thud; in favour of ridding ourselves of our wet clothes.

I rub my hands together vigorously, in an attempt to spark warmth, while we look at the bags of new clothes that we let fall to the floor in a swift crescendo. I’m about to bend down and scoop some of them up when Mr Hummel’s voice calls out to us.

“Can I talk to you boys?” he says, his sturdy voice as friendly as it always is, his enquiry wafting steadily down the hallway to welcome us in from the cold. A fiery warmth automatically blossoming in my chest and I smile. The deepened syllables of Burt’s words never fail to fill me with an all encompassing warmth and I find it hard to believe that his presence once made me feel uneasy, uncomfortable and nervous. Especially because I now know that Burt makes me feel less troubled, more at ease about myself and increasingly at peace inside my own head. Something I will forever thank him for.

I turn to look at Kurt then and he smiles softly at me.

“Just give us a second, dad.” Kurt shouts out in reply, something close to nervousness flashing briefly across his face as he does, and it’s more than obvious that he’s a little worried about this, he’s worried about the inevitable conversation, about me going to a new school, a school where he isn’t. He’s worried about us being apart, about me being alone somewhere, about the flashbacks that could spark in my brain any second and him not there to bring me back. I know this because those are my worries too but I need a little courage, I need the courage to carry on with my life and not be afraid anymore. I am in control of my own life now, my own destiny, I can make my own decisions and right now I know that I have to make the decision to go to school because I want to make something of my life. I want to prove my father wrong because every time he called me stupid, or worthless, or useless he was wrong.

There’s been a subtle shift inside of me over the last few days and I can see it all again. I can see my dreams, I can see my hopes, I can smell the cold air and see the blue skies and I can feel alive, I can feel love. I can feel loved. Cared for. Worried about. And now I know that’s okay.

“Ready, sweetheart?” Kurt asks softly and I want to ask him why he’s started calling me that but I don’t, I just nod my head, because I’m as ready as I can be for this. Plus, I’ve had such a beautiful, unforgettable day with Kurt and, right now, everything seems like it could be okay. I could be on a ship, surrounded by merciless bounds of stormy ocean and even if my ship had a leak and a broken sail, I’d still be feeling optimistic about it.

“I’m ready.“ I say and then I follow Kurt into the Kitchen.

I expect Burt to be sitting at the table, waiting, but he’s actually sanding by the sink, a glass of water in hand, taking the same tiny pills he takes everyday, for his heart. When he’s swallowed them down he puts his glass in the sink and turns around, a smile ghosting over his lips. He looks over us both then and gestures for us to sit. We do. But when I’m taking a seat and I catch Burt looking at me I automatically pull down on my sleeve and push my eyes to the floor. I know that I’m trying to cover the bruising on my wrist and I know that it’s absolutely ridiculous. Kurt told his dad exactly what happened between Finn and I last night, he told me so. I just can’t help it, I’ve been here too many times before. Trying to hide things from people I don’t want to hurt, it’s just hardwired into my brain- keep it hidden, Blaine.

“Is your wrist bothering you?” Burt asks then, perceptive as always, fatherly concern flooding his features, as he nods down at my sleeve and sits down opposite us. I drag my eyes up, not because I owe it to him but because I want to, and I shake my head.

“No, not at all.” I reassure before I add, “It’s fine, really, Mr Hummel, you don’t have to worry, sir, it’s just a habit I have with bruises.” I almost flinch when I hear my own words because I know he likes me to call him ‘Burt’ but the whole business of bruises makes me uneasy and Burt looks horrified for a second but I know it’s not for the same reason. His concerned eyes lingering on my face for a while before he glances at Kurt quickly and starts talking.

“Well, I wont keep you long, I just wanted to talk about schools. I phoned around on my lunch break today- practically every school within an hour‘s commute- and only two schools take new students halfway through the year. There were a few others… others that would take you if they could talk to Dalton extensively but I didn’t want to give your father any idea about where you might be going. I‘m never letting that bastard near you again, Blaine, and I‘m certainly not leaving him a paper trail.” Burt finishes determinedly and I just nod in understanding because that makes a lot of sense to me. Though, mainly, I’m just incredibly grateful that Burt is so consistently concerned about my safety. That’s such a profound and beautiful concept to me- that a man can take his son’s best friend into his home, without question, and then become such a great example of a dad to him. Because that’s what Burt is to me now.

“Which schools would take me?” I ask quietly then, after the silence hangs for a while, and Burt frowns.

My stomach starts to twist unpleasantly.

“St. Anthony’s… and McKinley.” Burt offers very apologetically and I can feel Kurt tensing up next to me. His whole body is stiffening. The atmosphere has completely changed. Just like that.

“Dad.” Kurt says- before I can get a word in - his voice full of unswerving conviction, “Blaine is not going there.”

“Kurt.” Burt warns firmly, looking at his son briefly before his focus falls back on me, his mouth opening slightly, only to be cut off by Kurt again.

“You know what they did to me there!” Kurt reminds his dad coldly and Burt actually grimaces.

“This isn’t about you, son. This is about Blaine.” Burt tries calmly but Kurt just slams his palms harshly on the table. I automatically flinch but he‘s obviously being protective, it’s obvious from his posture and for that reason alone I’m not scared of him. I’m never afraid of Kurt, I just wasn’t expecting it.

“Karofsky said he was going to kill me, dad, for being myself, for being just like Blaine, for being gay.” Kurt reminds harshly and something changes in Burt’s face then. A powerful mix of anger and pain and regret floods his features.

“You think I don’t know that, Kurt? You think that doesn’t upset me; doesn’t make me feel sick with worry, son? I want him to be safe; I want all of you kids to be safe. There’s just nowhere else for him to go, St. Anthony’s is as expensive as Dalton and I just don’t have that kind of money, Kurt. I don‘t have it. I‘ve been over the figures a hundred times. We just can‘t afford it. ” Burt explains emotively and I bite my lip- tears threatening to fill my eyes because I can’t help but feel like I’m causing them a lot of trouble again and Burt sounds so upset, so regretful, like it’s his fault that he can’t afford to put two kids through private school. It’s not. That’s not his fault. I have to close my eyes for a second.

“They hurt me, dad.” Kurt says sadly then and Burt’s brow creases, “I know they did, buddy, but it’s the only place he can go and it‘ll be different for him. I promise.”

“How?! How will it be different?!” Kurt shouts bitterly and I reach out a hand and place it over one of his balled fists. I need him to stop shouting. I need him to stop shouting right now or I’m going to start crying. I’m going to start crying because I can’t bear listening to him while he’s this upset. I can’t listen to him talk about all of the pain he endured, alone, in a place that was supposed to be safe, and stay strong about it because they hurt him and he never deserved a single moment of it. He was just being himself, he was just refusing to hide, he was refusing to be anyone who wasn’t one-hundred percent Kurt Hummel and they made that a punishable offence.

“He’ll have people looking out for him from the very start.” Burt says then, dragging me back to the conversation, before he looks right at me and he looks so heartbreakingly sad, “I talked to Finn and Puck; they said they wouldn’t leave you alone. No one would be able to lay a hand on you, son.” he reasons and I just nod, I don‘t know what else I can do, because I don‘t think I can talk.

“No, dad, please?” Kurt begs then, but he’s not shouting now, now he just sounds wounded, hurt noises falling out of his mouth before he says, “You don’t know what it’s like there.”

“Kurt. I saw the bruises, I saw you crying your heart out so don’t you tell me what I do and don’t know. Because I know, Kurt, okay? I may not have known how bad it was, son, but when I saw, when I really saw, I realised what that place had done to you, to your confidence, to your self esteem. So, don’t tell me I don’t know because it broke my heart to see what they did to you, Kurt. It broke my heart and I wont watch the same thing happen to Blaine. I wont let that happen, not again.” Burt promises and his eyes are shining.

“They’re horrible people.” Kurt mutters and I squeeze his hand. Burt doesn’t even blink. I can only imagine the repercussion had I held Kurt’s hand in front of my own father.. but I shake that thought clean out of my head.

“Kurt,” I say then because I really ought to say something, “I need to go to school. I need to make something of my life. I’ll be okay. I’ll have Finn and Puck.. and you know how protective Puck is.” I offer automatically and that earns an emotional sigh from Kurt.

“I know. I know, Blaine, I just worry. I don’t want anyone to hurt you or upset you or make you doubt yourself.” Kurt says turning to me slightly, his wide eyes shining down at me like his dad‘s, “I don’t want them to plant ideas in your head.. that you’re not perfect, that you’re wrong somehow, that you‘re not good enough. I don‘t want to give them a chance to make that even the smallest of possibilities because there‘s nothing wrong with you, or me, or us, Blaine. No matter what they say and do. But that can be.. it can be so hard to remember in a place like that..” Kurt whispers painfully.

“Blaine,” Burt starts earnestly then, “If this feels like too much, too soon, you can tell me; I’ll think of something else, okay? You don‘t have to do anything until you‘re ready, son.”

“I think it’s worth a shot.” I say quietly, honestly, optimistically after a pause and Kurt leans into me then, though, he can’t quite look at me and Burt just nods softly in understanding.

“I can go and sort out the paperwork on Monday. So, you’ll be able to go there from Wednesday but I want you to think about it. Really think about it. I want you to talk to Ellen and then I want you to come and talk to me or to Kurt. If you have a single doubt about this, or if it puts too much on your shoulders, you need to tell us. There are a lot of people that love you here and we want to help you, son.” Burt says and I nod before I say, “I know.”

“Good. Now you boys go and enjoy the rest of your day, okay? I’m going back to the garage for a few hours.” Burt offers and as he stands and starts walking away I say, “Thank you, Burt.” He quickly waves it off but he stops dead in his tracks when Kurt opens his mouth and quietly mutters, “I’m really sorry, dad.”

“No, you don’t apologise for that. You were protecting him, Kurt. That’s not a bad thing; it shows you care. Son, you didn’t have a concern that wasn’t my own, I promise you.” Burt implores and Kurt nods.

“I just love you so much. I hate upsetting you.” Kurt whispers then and Burt smiles. It’s the kind of smile that, if it had a voice, would say ‘I‘d rather you upset me than yourself, son.’

“I love you too, kid.” Is what Burt actually says, “I love both of you boys. Now go on. Finn told me something about a keyboard and I‘m sure you‘d rather be doing that than sitting up here. Enjoy yourself, relax a little, be kids- eat junk food, play video games, watch football.” Kurt’s face scrunches up in instant disgust and I can’t help but echo the laugh that follows Burt out of the door.

“We are not doing that.” Kurt implores, his eyes still shining, and I just smile at him knowingly “Of course we aren’t, Kurt.”

It’s beautiful. It’s the most glorious, magnificent thing I have ever seen in my life - sitting stoically on a black x-frame at the bottom of Kurt’s bed just waiting to be played, just waiting to be touched, his dresser stool pulled up in front of it, and it doesn‘t matter that it‘s not the most expensive keyboard, or that it‘s not like the one I had to hide under my bed, or that it has a few scratches on it. It’s the thought behind it, it’s the meaning, it’s the fact that Kurt did this, bought this, for me. For me.

I want to reach out a hand and run my fingertips over the glorious keys, the soft light of Kurt’s room giving the whole thing and enticing glow, drawing me in, compelling me forwards. I’m overcome with a throbbing desire to press my fingers, to move them, to make music. All of this, this familiar, longing need is because of him, because he cares. I look over at him then, “Oh, Kurt. It’s perfect.” I gush unabashed.

“I’m glad you like it.” he says shyly, his soft expressions radiating happiness, “I don’t know if it’s as good as your other one but I hope it makes you feel more at home anyway.” I want to reach out to Kurt now and say something like, ‘Kurt, my last keyboard was hidden under my bed for it’s and my safety’ but I don’t.

Instead, I whisper, “Kurt, I have never felt more at home in my life.” and at that he reaches out and pushes my shoulder playfully, a small burst of laughter rushing past those perfect lips of his, “Stop it.” he says.

“What?” I ask lightly and he grins, “Stop being so sweet, Blaine, my teeth will fall out and who will love me then?” He’s almost beaming at me, his earlier sadness forgotten, as I say, “You’ll always have me.” He shoots me an amused look before he gestures at the keyboard and leans in whispering, hot against my ear, “Play me something beautiful, sweetheart?”

“Of course.” I say because I don’t need convincing and I move to take the stool in front of the keyboard. Kurt moves too, onto his bed, shuffling forward and crossing his legs so his knees are pressed against the back of the keyboard. We’re still so close to one another, so close I could swear that I can still feel the heat of his body. As if he was touching me.

“You’ll sing with me?” I ask then as Kurt settles himself and I flex my fingers, it’s been a while. It’s been a very long time since I could play so openly in a place that isn’t a school’s music room.

“An opportunity to burst into song is an opportunity I’m always going to take, Blaine.” Kurt says honestly as he reaches out and presses the red power button - a tiny screen shining brightly at me like an unexpected greeting card. A card that just says: I‘ve missed you terribly. I can’t help but think about what’s about to happen; about how close Kurt and I will be as we sing; how every time I look up Kurt will be looking right at me. How our voices will crash into one another until they sink into our familiar harmony.

“Pick something I know, though.” that’s all Kurt says as he watches me, observes me, pressing my fingers against the keys, testing. The notes ring out and as they fade away everything suddenly seems deathly quiet; everything seems so unbelievably close. It’s so damn intimate, so perfect, so important that my heart starts to race. This is us. This is really us. This is who we really are. Kurt Hummel and Blaine Anderson.

“Are you ready?” I ask then and Kurt nods modestly at me, like there‘s a worry somewhere inside of him that he‘s not going to be good enough. Which is stupid because I have never heard anyone sing like him.

I take a deep breath and I let my fingers fall. I know this song; I know it well. I let the opening notes fill the room - bold and clear- everything seems so beautiful and I’m suddenly feeling so emotional. I’ve missed doing this, feeling this. I close my eyes as I play, Kurt’s soft, “Oh, Blaine.” mixing in with music perfectly as he recognises the song and I take another deep breath. The air ballooning my lungs.

I open my mouth and I sing the words, the perfect words, that sum up Kurt and Blaine and everything that we are and everything that we hope to be.

And it’s suddenly so much harder to breathe. It’s suddenly so much harder to focus on anything because Kurt has leaned forward and he has one of his hands pressed against my cheek and I can’t take my eyes off him. He’s looking at me with eyes that beg me to understand him, that beg me to understand that he’s here with me, on my quest, whatever that quest turns out to be. And as we finish the song together I hope he understands that I know and that I’m here for him too because I love him and he’s the greatest person I’ve ever known.

Silence hangs around us for a while when we’ve finished singing and all I can hear is the repetitive thud of my own heart and Kurt’s soft breathing because he’s so damn close to me. He runs his thumb down my face one last time and then lets his hand fall onto mine. Lifting it gently and laying the softest of kisses on my knuckles. His eyes closed before he looks up at me from behind heavy lashes, ready to explain himself.

“Kurt..” I say knowingly but he shakes his head and it’s getting so warm in here, with the memory of those lips pressed against my skin, running through my head.

“Blaine.. I-- I know that you’re figuring things out right now. But when you’re ready and if.. if you want to.. you don’t have to… you never have to.. but if you want to.. I just.. I‘d really like it if.. if maybe you and I.. if we maybe could..” he stutters and I smile at him. Standing up and walking around the keyboard, climbing onto the bed and sitting next to him. Maybe this is the moment, the moment Puck had talked about, the right moment because I think it is. It feels right.

I take a deep breath as I settle next to him, our thighs pressed together as I reach out to take one of his hands. He lets me, of course he does, because I know he thinks he’s done something wrong and this is my chance to change that. For good.

“Kurt,” I start our legs brushing together, our hands clasped tightly, and I’m just praying that the right words come out; that he understands, “Sometimes there is a moment; a moment when you say to yourself ‘Oh, there you are, I’ve been looking for you forever’ but sometimes… sometimes your entire time together has been that moment. Sometimes it’s been nothing but that moment but you don‘t realise it because you‘re focused on something else. Like being okay again. And I know what you’re trying to tell me, Kurt. And I-- I want that too. I want that. And when I‘m ready we can have that. We can have everything. You‘re the greatest, most compassionate person I have ever met, Kurt, and I‘m sorry. I‘m sorry that we can‘t be what we both want right now but, please, if you’ll just wait a little longer I can be yours. All yours. I just need to make sure I have me first. I’m sorry, I‘m rambling, aren‘t I?” I finish weakly, a heavy blush on my cheeks and I try to pull away but Kurt wont let me and apparently he’s found his voice again.

“No, you’re not rambling, Blaine. What I did, that was rambling.” Kurt says softly, his wide eyes looking deep into me.

“Kurt--” I start apologetically but he shushes me softly.

“I’ll wait for you, Blaine. I’d wait for you forever because even if we never make it that far… you’ll still always be my best friend.”

“In the whole universe?” I can’t help but add and he laughs, a single tear slipping down his perfect face as he says, “And beyond.”

“Thank you.” I say softly, our eyes meeting again as he wipes his tear away, and what I really mean is: Thank you for waiting, Kurt, for understanding, for not pushing me, for not making me uncomfortable, for not making me afraid, for not making me feel stupid; for just loving me. All of me, every single version of me you have ever known. The final version of me that’s blooming right in front of your eyes- even with all of it’s hitches.

“I love you, Blaine.” he says then and I reply but this time it’s different because this time we both know that one day, hopefully soon, our love will be something new, something more and I have never felt like this. I have never felt so full of love. I feel like I could burst.

Kurt is making a start on dinner, he wants to do something nice for Burt- because he still feels bad about their argument- so, he’s following a handwritten recipe for the delicious beef casserole that Carole likes to make. I’m doing what I can to help- chopping carrots and potatoes and generally just trying not to get under his feet - because everyone should be home soon and he wants to have it all in the oven before they arrive. But he keeps shooting me these sweet little glances and they’re very distracting. So distracting that when I’m pushing my knife through yet another carrot it slams straight down awkwardly and nicks my finger. I hiss in pain and blood starts gushing everywhere.

“Oh, god.” I say and Kurt spins around, a look of searching concern on his face. I lift my finger to show him and the blood just slips down it. A long red line running down the back of my hand.

“Oh, Blaine.” he says, walking towards me, only stopping at the sink to turn on the cold water faucet, “Come on, put you hand under that. I need to see how bad it is.”

I follow his instructions and I cringe as the jet of water hits the cut, it’s nowhere near the worst I’ve ever had, in fact, it’s relatively insignificant, but it still stings. It still hurts.

“I’m so sorry.” he says, “I’ve been distracting you. Does it hurt?” he asks and I shrug as he groans, “It does, doesn‘t it? I‘m the worst future boyfriend ever, aren‘t I?” I can’t help but smile at him now, this is a new side to Kurt, a flustered, less self-assured Kurt and he’s adorable. The throb in my chest overwhelming the throb of my finger.

“It’s fine. It probably wont be bleeding when I take it from under the water, Kurt.” I offer but he doesn’t seem convinced. So, I move it away to show him and as a new circle of blood pools around the nick he groans, “Put it back under, I’ll find you a band aid. It‘s really the least I can do, Blaine.”

For the first time, in what feels like a long time, I wake up shaking and absolutely terrified out of my mind. There’s a deep tremor running through both of my hands and I’m gasping as I try to breathe, as I try to catch my breath and shake away the feeling of his fingers pressed against my throat in a familiar, unwavering grip. He wouldn’t let me go this time, he wouldn’t stop, he strangled me until I passed out and then I woke up.

There are unshed tears brimming in my eyes, so I can barely see, and I want to curl up into a little ball and fade away, I want to hide myself and just hope that he can’t get at me because he wasn’t supposed to do that. He wasn’t supposed to come at night, not anymore. He shouldn’t be here. I don’t want him to be here. In this room. In my dreams. I think about making a break for the bathroom now, I think about running in there, turning on the light and pulling my knees up under my chin until it’s daylight again but I can’t. I don’t think my legs can carry me that far because when I lifted one of my legs upon waking the tremble followed the movement. I’m stuck here with Kurt sleeping so peacefully next to me and I wonder if it would always be like this. Whether I’m worth the stress of it all and that makes me feel sick. This whole thing makes me feel sick. I’m not going to belittle myself. Not anymore. Every time I try to hold onto a new hope something happens to bring him back. First that flashback and now this..

I feel hopeless, I feel defeated, I feel scared. I feel like I’m back there. My face collapses then and the little composure I actually had completely crumbles. I stuff my knuckles into my mouth, the knuckles Kurt had kissed so softly earlier, in an attempt to smoother the sound of my crying. Because I am crying now. I’m almost bending myself in half as I try to push the feeling away. As I try to stop my hands from shaking but I can’t and when I look over at Kurt again, when I see how content he looks, I feel awful for what I’m about to do. I feel stupid as I reach out a hand and touch his shoulder.

“Kurt?” I whisper, a shaking sob almost taking over completely, but he doesn’t move. I touch his face then, turning so I’m looking at him properly, my legs crossed under me as I try to wake him up.

“Kurt, please, I’m s-so scared. Please. I’m so sorry… b-but I need you.. I need you r-right now, Kurt. You need to tell me I‘m okay. Please..” I sniff before a low sob slips out of my mouth and his eyes shoot open.

“Blaine? W-what’s going on, are you--” he starts automatically but he cuts himself off as his brain goes through a process of realisation, before he understands, and he drags himself upright, flicking the bedside lamp on as he moves. Urgency and fear smothering his features, just like the darkness had.

“Blaine, what happened? What’s just happened to you, sweetheart?” he says reaching out a hand to touch my face, I flinch backwards and he pulls his hand away in shock. His eyes are huge. That’s not what I meant to do, I pull his hand back to my face, before it falls into his lap, and I nuzzle into it. Searching desperately for comfort. My hand still over his.

“Blaine, please, tell me what happened. Please? Did he hurt you again?” Kurt asks and his voice sounds so small that it breaks my heart. What exactly am I doing, here?

“K-kurt.. I can’t do this anymore.” I say honestly and he shakes his head.

“Yes, you can, sweetheart. You’re so brave, you can‘t give up, not now. You‘re nearly there.” He implores but I just shake my head as a new flow of tears run down my face.

“No, I’m not and I’m never going to be okay. I’m never going to be normal, Kurt.” I cry and he looks so upset.

“Blaine, please, don’t give up on me.” he whispers and that makes me pull my hand away from his.

“Your hands are shaking.” he whispers to himself then and I try to pull away from him altogether.

“No, Blaine, please. Come on, you’re just upset. I know you want to work through this with me because you woke me up to ask for my help and there’s nothing wrong with that. I’m right here, sweetheart. What did I tell? Where did I say I’d always be?” He asks then and he uses his hand to turn my jaw- so I’m looking right at him through my teary eyes. He applies enough force to move me and keep me there but he’s nowhere near hurting me. I don’t know how he knows, how he can see all of those fine lines and never cross a single one, but I‘m so grateful.

“Where will I always be, Blaine?” he asks again and I try to swallow down the lump that’s formed bitterly in my throat before I say, “Here with me.”

Kurt nods his head then and he says, as firmly as he can manage, “Now tell me what that bastard just did to you.”

I explain it to him then, as well as I can through my tears, I tell him what has just happened to me. How my father called me ‘disgusting’ and how it almost hurt me as much as his hand on my throat and his fists in my face did. How him calling me a ‘dirty faggot’ hurt me almost as much as the bruises and the pain because every time he says it, every time my phantom father spits it at me with revulsion, he makes me wonder if maybe I am wrong. Just for a second. But I’m not, I’m not wrong, I know that, I explain, because Kurt’s not wrong and Santana isn’t wrong and Karofsky isn’t wrong either - not for that reason.

Kurt just listens and encourages me to open myself up to him because I have nothing to fear in here and no one can get in this room without our say so.

“Lie back down.” Kurt says eventually and I want to say that I can’t, in case I fall asleep but he stops my words dead when he presses a finger to my lips.

“Yes, you can. I’ll watch over you.” He says and I wonder what I did to deserve him as I settle back down and he turns on his side to watch me sleep.

When I wake up it’s to the sound of Kurt’s soft voice, he’s talking quietly over on the other side of the room with Carole. Carole’s down here, I fidget a little then and make sure I’m covered up. I’m in my pyjamas but still, common decency.

“So, what do you think?” she says, a pause falling between them before Kurt replies.

“I don’t know. Blaine had a bit of a rough night. I don’t know if he’ll be up to it.” I hear him say and for some reason that makes me smile.

“Well, just let me know because I’d love to have lunch with you both today.” Carole says and I can her the soft smile in her voice.

“I’ll asks him when he wakes up.” Kurt promises softly, “Scouts honour.”

“You’re always so happy these days Kurt.” Carole muses.

“I know my best friend is safe, that makes me the happiest person in the world.” Kurt confesses and I can’t help but smile to myself then because I know that Kurt is going to make it okay. He’s already making my day brighter.. because that’s just who he is.

“Oh, honey. You’re such a sweet young man.” I hear Carole say and then, “I’m so glad to have you as a part of my family now.”

“I’m glad I have you too. And Blaine.” Kurt whispers and I can tell there’s probably a soft blush on his cheeks.

“And Blaine.” she repeats before she adds, “ You know, Kurt, a year ago today I only had one beautiful son… and now I have three! And you two boys didn’t even come with the crippling pain of childbirth. Which I have to say is a bonus. I'm the luckiest woman in the world.” Kurt laughs then and my smile broadens because no matter how much I miss my mother I know she can’t come back, she’s been gone for such a long time and lying here, listening to them talk, listening to Carole be Carole... I know that she could be for me what she is for Kurt. That special person who can almost fit the mother shaped holes left in our lives and I think I’m okay with that. In fact, I know I’m okay with that. I'm okay with that becaue she fits so perfecly next to Burt and Burt is everything I hoped I could have for a dad. These beautiful people, all of them, are what I no longer have to long for.