"You need to eat something, Blaine." John took a long drink from his coffee cup. "Cereal or toast or something; I don't care what it is."

"Not hungry." Blaine replied, resting his chin on one arm.

John exchanged a look with Shannon and shrugged.

When the doorbell rang, nobody startled. Shannon got up from the kitchen table and went out to the entry, Tucker was already barking at the door. She hushed him while she tried to grapple with the lock.

John glanced over at his son across the table. He was busily fraying the bottom of the newspaper only inches from his face on the tabletop; tearing little incisions along the bottom, working his way from corner to corner. His eyes were tired and he turned his cheek into the crook of his arm, keeping his attention entirely dedicated to his project.

"Good morning," Kurt was in the doorway, a bag hanging from the grip on his crutch. He smiled brightly for them.

John nodded a hello, but his attention remained on Blaine who had immediately perked up, forsaking his newspaper project for the time being.

"Hey, you." Kurt took the seat beside Blaine, abandoning his crutch and bag on the ground. He rubbed a thumb across the bandage on the other boy's head and smiled. "You look like one of those POWs in old war movies."

Blaine smiled, it was a half-hearted gesture, but the first smile John had seen grace his face, "Yeah?"

Kurt nodded, "Absolutely. How was the hospital?"

"Fine." Blaine shrugged.

Burt Hummel came through the door followed by Shannon, "Morning, John; Blaine."

"Can I get you some coffee, Burt?" Shannon moved toward the machine.

"That'd be great; thanks." Burt took the end seat at the table and looked over the others at the table. "You guys look like you had a rough night."

"Neighbor scared us half to death coming over last night to say her tree had come down on our shed out back." Shannon sighed, putting a steaming mug down in front of Burt. "We were sure it would be—"

Burt caught her furtive glance toward her son. He nodded and took a long drink from his cup.

Kurt glanced at Blaine. He'd lowered his chin back to his arm on the table and renewed his initial project of mangling the bottom of the science section. "That little art project you have goings is lovely and all Blaine, but I brought something better for you to work on."

Blaine's eyes drifted up to Kurt questioningly when he pushed the paper out from beneath his hands to the other side of the table.

Kurt leaned over and retrieved his crutch and the bag. He shook the plastic in front of Blaine, trying to tantalize him into sitting up. "It's for your room."

"What is it?" Kurt's plan had worked; Blaine sat up and tried to peer down into the plastic.

"Come on and I'll show you." Kurt got to his feet and shoved his chair in.

Blaine followed after him compliantly toward the door.

Kurt paused to look at the adults, "Do you mind if we go upstairs?"

"Not at all, dear; let us know if you need anything." Shannon smiled from her seat.

The boys disappeared up the steps, Kurt chattering at Blaine the whole way.

Burt waited until he was sure they were upstairs to speak. "Have you heard anything?"

John shook his head, "Nothing. I have to make a few phone calls to settle some things, but otherwise we just have to wait."

Burt sat back in his chair, perturbed, "What happens if you never hear anything?"

"We'll hear something, it's just a matter of—" he couldn't bring himself to say those words. Not after the way his son had looked at him the previous night; completely resigned to fate, ready to be knocked down once again by the inequity of life.

"So you're not going to report this?" Burt took another drink from his mug, watching John over the rim of his cup.

"Would you?" John retorted, "Would you rat out your son in if he'd done something like this?"

"They can't possibly punish him for this." Burt frowned, "After what they did to him—"

"It's amazing what a good lawyer can make happen." John glanced over at his wife. She was cradling her own coffee cup against her chest between both hands.

"But that Marlow kid, he'll have to do jail time." Burt was adamant, "After what he did to both of our boys. They can't just let him walk."

"If Eric Marlow is alive and they do manage to pin something on him, Blaine will go down with him. Someone will make sure of it." John touched a steadying hand to his wife's knee when she shuddered beside him.

"They couldn't possibly—" Burt shook his head and put down his coffee cup, suddenly feeling ill, "You have a good lawyer, too, right? And how could anyone take one look at that kid knowing what he went through and sentence him to anything?"

"So say we get lucky and they don't," John glanced toward the steps to ensure the boys were still out of earshot, "Blaine walks but everyone he knows sees his picture in the paper or they see him on the news; they'll get to hear everything that happened and from then on, that's how they'll see him—that part of his life will define how he is perceived by his entire world. I will not put him through that. I want him free of this, not shackled to it for the rest of his life."

Burt reevaluated John Anderson for a long moment. "I'd feel the same way."

"So we can trust you to keep quiet about this?" John pressed.

"You have my word." Burt offered a hand across the table.

John shook it firmly, relieved to check one thing off the list. "If we hear anything, I'll contact you as soon as possible."

Burt nodded, slowly rising from the table, "I just wanted to check in and drop Kurt off. I'll be back for him tonight, or I can come earlier if you'd like."

"No, tonight's fine… it's good for Blaine to have him here." John cleared his throat. He walked Burt to the door before going to his office and closing the door. He had work to do.

"Are you going to tell me what's in the bag?" Blaine queried, eyeing the plastic in Kurt's lap when he sat down at the end of Blaine's bed.

"Guess." Kurt suggested.

Blaine sighed as he leaned back against the headboard, "I have no idea."

"You're no fun at all, come on, guess something." Kurt shook the bag again for good measure.

"Sheets." Blaine offered lamely.

"There could be anything in the entire world in here—a lava lamp, a magic carpet; a whale!" Kurt threw his arms in the air for affect, cringing a little when it made a spot in his shoulder ache, "And you guess sheets? Be creative and think outside the box a little, Blaine; you're good at that."

"A whale would not fit in that bag." Blaine replied mildly.

"You are selling this thing short; I am telling you that I, Kurt Hummel, am capable of anything and everything so I could easily have put a whale in here. A whole heard of whales even." Kurt slipped his fingers through his hair, smoothing its already perfect styling.

"A pod." Blaine mumbled, "a group of whales is called a pod."

"Thanks for the fun fact." Kurt prodded Blaine's foot with his knee, "Now guess."

Blaine closed his eyes, "an Olympic-sized pool."

"Better, but no." Kurt threw the bag onto Blaine's lap.

Blaine opened his eyes and pulled the contents free from the bag. He studied the plastic package in his hands. "Stars?"

Kurt bobbed his head up and down, suddenly feeling a little bashful, "you stick them up on your ceiling and they glow in the dark. I know they're tacky and meant for seven-year olds, and it says right on the package there's ninety five of them, so you can't exactly count them or anything, but—"

"I love them." Blaine interrupted, looking up at Kurt. He smiled.

Kurt couldn't respond for a moment, too moved by seeing that familiar expression back where it had once been so frequent. He regained himself quickly and smiled back, "I'm glad. Do you want to put them up?"

Blaine nodded. He tore the package open and they busied themselves climbing on furniture and plastering them across the ceiling. Kurt turned on his I-pod and sang half of the soundtrack to Rent, getting increasingly dramatic with his vocal performance; he even added choreography; anything to keep Blaine smiling.

He got a little too ambitious atop Blaine's desk chair and ended up toppling to the ground. He groaned, rubbing his back.

Blaine jumped down off the bed, kneeling beside him with a worried frown, "Are you okay?"

Kurt bit back the ache in his chest; he threw his arms into the air and finished the song.

Blaine sat back on his heels and studied him cynically.

"The show must go on." Kurt shrugged, rubbing his side.

Blaine smiled briefly before offering a hand and pulling them both to their feet. "Try a little less showiness. You're going to break your other ankle."

"An injury in the name of theater is well worth it." Kurt replied, tipping his head up to observe their handiwork.

Blaine peered into the plastic bag. "We're out of stars."

"I've got one more." Kurt held up a small, plastic cut out. He tucked it into Blaine's pocket with a wink. "Save it for a rainy day."

"Wanna look at them lit up?" Blaine moved toward the light switch.

Kurt closed the shades and settled down on Blaine's bed, "All right, lets see if these things were worth seventeen ninety-five."

Blaine flipped the switch; he paused for a moment, waiting for his eyes to adjust to the dark before moving to seat himself beside Kurt. He tilted his head back and studied the little shapes above them. They glowed a strange wraithlike yellow-green and left eerie silhouettes around the ceiling fan.

"They don't exactly look like real stars, do they?" Kurt sounded disappointed.

Blaine rested his head on Kurt's shoulder, "I like them."

Kurt sat perfectly still beside Blaine. He wanted terribly to turn his face into that soft, dark hair; lace his fingers between Blaine's; cuddle even closer. He could feel the warmth radiating off the body beside him and decided to take comfort in even the most minimal contact rather than risk scaring him away.

Blaine inhaled deeply; he loved the smell of Kurt so close. He had on a cologne he didn't recognize—something green and aquatic—but it still smelled familiar—cool and… just entirely Kurt. He nuzzled in closer, his side pressed to the other boy's and the back of his hand brushing Kurt's knuckles. When Kurt didn't turn his palm in against his, he felt nervous. Had he done something wrong? Kurt was relaxed, but entirely motionless at his side. "Kurt?"

"Mmm?" Kurt replied, his voice quiet.

"Are you mad?" Blaine tipped his head up, but all he could see was the silhouette of Kurt's head outlined by glowing green.

"Of course not," Kurt sounded shocked. "Why would I be?"

Blaine shrugged. "You're just not usually so… aloof."

"Oh," Kurt seemed to suddenly understand, he hesitated for a moment, "I just… you've been through a lot this week and I know you can be a little sensitive about the touch thing… I just want you to feel safe."

Blaine caught Kurt's fingers between his own and pulled his hand to his chest. He held it there between both his hands but said nothing for a long while. "Thanks for the stars."

"Anything for you." Kurt took a chance and pressed a soft kiss to the top of Blaine's head.

Tucker was barking downstairs.

"Blaine," his mother was calling up the stairs, "there's someone here to see you!"

Blaine felt a momentary rush of adrenaline, but he quickly settled himself. It wasn't the police, he was sure of that. His mother wouldn't singsong up the stairwell if it were something like that. He glanced at Kurt before turning on the lamp on his nightstand and making his way to the door, Kurt close behind him.

His mother was waiting at the base of the steps not looking particularly troubled. When he saw who was at the door, he felt a momentary sense of relief, "Hey, N."

"What'd you do to your head?" Nadia frowned at him. She looked exhausted—her hair was messy and her make up was smudged, but there was a certain energy in her face, a funny smile tugging at the corners of her mouth.

"Fell off the retaining wall out back." Blaine shrugged; he caught Kurt's quick glance.

"You can practically do parkour when you perform, but you seriously can't walk a straight line without bringing the whole world crashing on top of you, B." Nadia rolled her eyes.

Blaine shrugged, "Guess not."

"You're not leaving for California already, are you?" Kurt frowned.

"No, silly, and we'll have a nice big going away bash for me when we do that. I'm not just gonna ring the doorbell and say see ya later." Nadia made a face at Kurt, "but I did come over for a reason. I'm glad you're here to hear this, cause it involves you, too."

"Why don't you three go sit down in the kitchen; you can have something to eat." Shannon had been quietly watching them from the stairwell and she would not pass up an opportunity to try and get her son to eat something. She didn't like how pale he looked.

"Sure, thanks Mrs. Anderson." Nadia flashed a smile and moved toward the kitchen along side Blaine's mother, chattering about how long it had been since they'd seen one another.

Blaine and Kurt exchanged a look before following after them.

"Can I get you anything?" Shannon asked, glancing pointedly at Blaine.

Kurt smiled politely, "Nothing for me, thank you."

Nadia went straight to the refrigerator and pulled out a Diet Coke, she smiled again for Blaine's mother, "I remember where everything is; I'm sure we'll be fine, but thank you."

"Blaine?" Shannon looked at him hopefully.

"I'm fine, Mom, I'll get something if I need it." Blaine avoided her gaze.

"If you're sure…" Shannon tried to hide her disappointment, "Call if you need anything."

Nadia watched her depart before turning her attention back to the boys, "both your parents home at one time and in the middle of a week day, B? What's the occasion?"

"Business crisis or something." Blaine shrugged.

She acceptd the excuse with a quick nod of her head. She sat her can down on the table, but she remained standing; fidgety with anticipation. "I have insane, beyond impossible, unbelievable gossip for you. Like you're not even going to believe it; it's that wild."

"Waiting." Kurt quirked an eyebrow.

"Okay, so you know that huge rager out past the dairy farms off Eden Drive last night?" She looked at the boys expectantly.

They both nodded. Even the students of McKinley had heard about the party. Some real estate agent's kid had gotten the keys to a massive barn at the edge of town.

"I take it you didn't hear what happened?" Nadia studied their faces, nearly bouncing with impatience.

They both shook their heads dumbly.

She looked between them and leaned her hands on the table, "Eric Marlow was stabbed."

Blaine didn't move; he didn't dare breathe for fear of giving himself away, "w-what?"

Nadia bobbed her head up and down excitedly, "Like a million times, I guess. Someone called and said they'd seen some kid laying in the back yard. Next thing we knew the whole place was crawling with police and they were loading Eric up into an ambulance. My friend Sasha's mom is a nurse at the hospital and she said he had like an ounce of blow on him so they think it was like, a drug fight thing or something, but seriously, can you believe it? That bastard finally got what he deserved!"

Blaine tried to swallow, but his mouth was too dry. "Is he… did he live?"

Nadia shrugged, "He was alive when they brought him in but who knows. Who the fuck cares? Actually, scratch that, I want him to live. Let the bastard suffer."

Kurt glanced back at Blaine. He looked like he might faint. "Do they have any idea who might have done it?"

Nadia shook her head, "No idea, but if I ever find him I'm buying him a drink. No, I'll buy him a drink and then I'll effing sleep with him. Seriously, drug dealer or junkie or whatever, I don't even care."

Blaine didn't smile. He slumped back in his chair with his eyes closed.

"Hey, come on, B. This is great, why do you look ready to puke?" Nadia finally sat down across from them. She turned her attention to Kurt, "K, tell him this is great."

"Blaine, this is a good thing." Kurt said softly. He reached out and touched a tentative hand to Blaine's shoulder. When he felt Blaine tense he let it fall back to the tabletop. "He might even do time for the cocaine thing."

"No he won't." Blaine murmured, he opened his eyes, but he didn't look at either one of them.

Nadia frowned at Kurt and then at Blaine, "What's eating at you, Honey Bee? You look absolutely horrible. I thought this would cheer you up."

Blaine shook his head before resting his chin in his hands, "Nothing, just in shock I guess… Thanks for coming by to let us know."

Nadia didn't look convinced, but she nodded slowly, "of course; I would have told you sooner, but I wanted to tell you in person—I'm actually on my way to practice; you guys can come watch if you want— it'll be a bunch of hot, flexible girls in spandex dancing around and getting sweaty."

Kurt smiled feebly for her, "You really know how to cater to your audience, but, as tempting as that is, I think we'll pass."

"All right, well, I should get going, you sure you're alright, B?" Nadia reached out a hand to touch his arm.

Blaine allowed the touch for a moment before dropping his elbows from the table, "Yeah. Let me know if you hear anything else."

"Sure thing." Nadia got up and went to the fridge. She pulled out a second can and displayed it for Blaine with a pleading smile, "Mind if I steal one of these for the road?"

"Be my guest." Blaine waved a dismissive hand at her; his eyes distracted.

"You're the best, B." She tucked it in her purse before running back to them. She touched her mouth to Kurt's quickly, but Blaine turned his face away when she leaned in for a kiss.

"He's been sick." Kurt supplied quickly.

Nadia studied Blaine's profile for a moment, "I don't know what you're so worried about, B, but try to cheer up. I'm going to Cali, you've got a gorgeous boyfriend, and Eric Marlow is pissing through a catheter somewhere in the ICU—the world is finally giving us the other side of karma."

Blaine's eyes drifted to her face; he let out a long breath, "I hope you're right."

"Of course I am. I'll see you later." She touched her lips lightly to his cheek, rubbed off the lip gloss she left there with a thumb, and then was gone from the kitchen, shouting goodbyes to the Andersons and Tucker as she slammed the front door behind her.

Kurt sat in silence beside Blaine. When it was clear Blaine had no intention of saying anything, Kurt finally spoke, "We should tell your parents."

Blaine didn't move for a moment, but then nodded his head slowly.

"I'll do the talking, even," Kurt offered gently when Blaine remained frozen in his chair, "you can just sit there and look pretty."

Blaine didn't laugh, but he did manage to get out of his chair and shuffle after Kurt toward his father's office.

Kurt ignored his sudden nerves just as he had every other time he had had to address John Anderson, and pushed the door open lightly, "Um, Mr. Anderson?"

John looked up from the papers he was scribbling on, "everything all right?"

"Yeah, um, but we need to talk to you. It's about Eric." Kurt sat down in one of the chairs on the opposite side of John's desk where Blaine was already seated. Once Shannon had been called in as well, Kurt relayed Nadia's story for them as best he could.

John tented his fingers in front of his mouth, thinking. He glanced at Blaine. His son was slumped low in his chair, staring vacantly at the framed degrees on the wall behind John's head. "Did she mention anything about seeing the other boy who was with you two nights ago?"

Blaine shook his head.

"Good… that's good." John picked up his phone. "Is that all?"

"That's all." Kurt replied, "What are you going to do?"

"Don't worry about it; just… go make yourselves busy." John waved a hand at the boys, "we'll take care of it."

Kurt was a little worried he would have to drag Blaine out of his seat, but his fear was without warrant. Blaine rose quickly, apparently eager to get out of the office, and followed Kurt out of the office and back up the stairs.

Blaine sat down heavily on the edge of his bed, his elbows rested on his knees.

Kurt remained standing, studying Blaine's defeated posture. "Blaine, I know this is a mess and I know you're upset, but this Eric situation could be a good thing."

Blaine didn't say anything; he lifted one hand and picked at the tape on the gauze around his forehead.

"Don't mess with that." Kurt reprimanded softly.

"I want it off." Blaine snapped, still plucking at the tape.

"Blaine, you just got those stitches yesterday, I don't think—"

"I want it off, I want it fucking off right now," Blaine lifted both hands, sounding almost panicky in his attempts to loosen the bandages.

Kurt closed the small space between them and batted Blaine's fingers away. He easily peeled the tape free and unraveled the dressing, "There; it's off. Feel better?"

Blaine ran a shaky hand through his hair, "No."

"There's something you're not saying, Blaine," Kurt sighed, "Talk to me; what's wrong?"

"I want this to be over," Blaine dropped his face into his hands, his voice quiet, "I wish I could just make it go away."

"Blaine." Kurt's own voice trembled; he took a step closer to the other boy, unsure of what else he could do or say.

"I don't want to do this anymore." Blaine leaned his head into Kurt, his forehead hot against the base of his sternum even through the fabric of his shirt.

"I know." Kurt touched a hand to the top of Blaine's head, hoping the contact could offer some comfort his words couldn't.

"I'm so tired, Kurt," Blaine tipped his head to look up at Kurt; his eyes shone with unshed tears, "I'm just so fucking tired."

"Oh, Blaine." Kurt felt hot saline stinging his own eyes. He sat down on the bed beside Blaine, allowing the other boy to bury his face against his neck when the tears wouldn't remain in check any longer. He wrapped one arm around his shoulders, pressing his palm into the side of his face, and held tightly to Blaine's hand with his other.

"Why is this happening?" Blaine sobbed, "Why did any of this ever have to happen?"

Kurt closed his eyes tightly when he could no longer hold back his own tears. He had come over that morning hoping things could be different, imagining that if he tried hard enough to pretend things were the way they had been in the beginning they could force fate to be kind to them from then on. He turned his cheek down into Blaine's hair. "I don't know."

Blaine's tears subsided, but he shivered against Kurt's shoulder, "I never meant for any of this to get so out of control."

"None of this is your fault, Blaine," Kurt scooted just far enough away to get Blaine to look at him, he stroked his face gently, wiping away the wet tracks on his cheeks, "I know you're tired, and I know you're scared, but you sell yourself short. You were brave, Blaine. Just this once, you fought for yourself."

"And look where that got us." Blaine said bitterly.

"I am looking, Blaine." Kurt turned the other boy's face back toward him when he looked down at his feet. "It's you who isn't seeing it. Your parents are actually looking at you, the world is finally going to see Eric Marlow for the parasitic rat he is, and we're going to be better for it all. It just has to get worse before it can get better."

"How can this ever get better?" Blaine's voice wavered, "My parents can barely look at me, you can barely touch me, and I don't even know what's going on inside my own head. Nadia's right, I dropped the act and I brought the whole world crashing down on top of all of us."

"Oh, Blaine." Kurt sighed, "Do you know why you're so tired?"

Blaine stared at him sadly and shook his head.

"You are so confident in the capabilities of everyone else in your life that you take everything you see as wrong in the world and twist it until the only one at any fault is yourself." Kurt smiled sadly at him. "The last guy who did that got himself nailed to a cross, Blaine, and even he took some help carrying the damn thing."

"You're an atheist." Blaine mumbled.

"That doesn't mean I can't see the person I love putting on a crown of thorns when he doesn't deserve it." Kurt said quietly.

Blaine looked away and remained silent.

Kurt shifted himself further back on the bed and pulled at Blaine to lie beside him. When Blaine finally rested his head on his chest, Kurt rubbed circles in the tense muscles of his back, "Why don't you try and get some sleep."

"I can't." Blaine said quietly.

"You have people to help you with this now, Blaine; it's okay to let yourself rest every once in awhile." Kurt reached over Blaine and turned off the light. "Pretend… pretend it's the night we buried Pavarotti. We reclined the seats all the way back in your car and stared out the sunroof. You told me about when you took care of Pavarotti when you first got to Dalton, and I told you about my mother's dresser and then we just laid out there for hours. I got my cell phone taken away for a week for getting home so late. Do you remember?"

Blaine nodded slightly against Kurt's chest, "You sang Let It Be."

"That's right." Kurt murmured, running his fingertips lightly up and down Blaine's arm.

"Can you sing it now?" Blaine whispered.

Kurt tipped his head back and stared up at the artificial glow above their heads and pretended they were real. He remembered the smell of leather interior and Blaine's cologne. The feel of cold fingers laced with his own between the seats, the sound of his heart in his ears, rhythmically singing it's own song in his head apart from the one leaving his lips: he's mine, he's mine, he's mine. He closed his eyes and held on tightly to the memory.

"And when the night is cloudy,

There is still a light that shines on me

Shine until tomorrow

Let it be"