“It’s been three hours, Santana, I don’t think this is-“

Santana holds up a sharply manicured finger, and Brittany’s hand is suddenly over Blaine’s mouth.

“Shh,” Santana whispers, crouching further down and peering cautiously around the side of the dumpster.

After they’d arrived, Santana had quickly escorted the three of them to the classically-clichéd, dimly-lit alleyway and told them to find separate hiding spots – Santana behind a dumpster at the front end of the alley, and Brittany and Blaine crouching in the arch of a doorway further down, pressed flat-as-possible against the slow-rotting wood – and to wait.

Blaine’s about to protest again, because he’s protested far too few times about the current situation, but then Santana curls herself into a ball and disappears and then Brittany’s gone too, solid but silent next to him, clutching at his hand tightly for a second before whispering good luck and letting go.

Blaine almost groans out loud, but then he hears racing footsteps pattering against the pavement, and his heart seems to try to match their pace.

A few seconds pass, and then there’s two figures against the dirty wall no more than a few metres away from him, one brandishing a gun and throwing menacing, hushed threats at the other. Blaine can hear pleading, soft and naive, from the second figure – a girl with sun-kissed hair and skin and an outfit far too classy for her to be living in Ohio – as she’s demanded of her purse, her valuables, as the man’s hand slides a little lower-

She glances off to the side – it was probably out of instinct more than anything else, and Blaine knows she can’t see him because he’s utterly terrified – and Blaine looks up and locks eyes with her, and he can see nothing but his own desperation reflected.

“Hey!”

*

“Maybe you’re right.”

Kurt wants to slap himself for letting it slip out so easily, wants to cry until he can’t breathe, wants to curl Blaine up in his arms and never let go.

“Dude-”

“-please, Finn, don’t call me that.”

“Who was it?”

Kurt sighs, rubbing fingertips at one another. “His name is Blaine.”

“Blaine? As in Blaine Anderson?”

Good going, Hummel.

“Yes, Blaine Anderson – do you see my problem now?”

“No.”

Kurt just closes his mouth completely.

“He likes you! You like him!”

Finn’s hand slips from his shoulder, and Kurt turns to face his brother, eyes downward and bones trembling.

“Why didn’t you tell me before?”

Kurt almost wants to laugh at that, but he stops himself. Walks past Finn, retrieves a box of donuts.

“What was I supposed to say, hmm? ‘Oh, there’s this guy that I really like, but I’ve got such fucked-up priorities that I can’t interact with him for more than a minute without worrying about my reputation’?”

Finn pauses, sits down next to Kurt, the mattress sculpting to frame his weight.

“You could’ve said that, if you wanted.”

“No, I couldn’t.” Kurt says, sniffling and rubbing at his eyes. “I can’t say anything to anyone without worrying about what they’ll think, now.”

“You know I don’t care about what people th-”

“-but you did, Finn!” Kurt pushes himself from the bed, leaning himself on the wall and propping his foot against it. “I know that you’ve changed yourself so much since we moved in together, and I really can’t stress how much that meant to me, but the point still stands; you cared once! You were willing to throw me in dumpsters so you could keep your head above water!”

“Kurt, you know I’ll never-“

 “-my point is that you did!”

Kurt stops his brother up short, leaning closer.

“You cared. You did horrible things to keep horrible things from being done to you.”

“I’m not seeing where this is going.”

Kurt sighs.

“You should understand my position better than most people.”

Finn freezes, scooting away along the bed.

“Kurt, please, don’t tell me you’re actually-“

“I have to, Finn, okay?” Kurt’s pacing the short space between their beds, heart hammering. “Look at me; you take away the Cheerio outfit, everything else falls down. People would have zero respect for me, and you might have had to do bad things, Finn, but you weren’t half as far down the social ladder as me.”

“I wouldn’t let anyone-“

Kurt actually laughs at that, high and depreciating and horridly grim, right down to his bones.

“You think you can stop everyone? You can’t form a secret service around me, Finn. You can’t protect me from fists, or words.”

Kurt sits on his bed, head down.

“The only thing that can protect me is what I have now,” he says, pulling at his sheets, curving into a ball. “-and if I want to keep that, then I can’t have Blaine.”

*

“Hey!”

The figure turns towards the darkness, holds up the gun, and Blaine has about a second’s warning before he’s being shot at.

The impact of the bullet bowls him backwards – the impact is reduced, thanks to Brittany and her glorious adaption of a bulletproof vest into the costume – and his breath catches. The woman manages to push the man off and tries to back away towards the darkness, towards Blaine, but he catches her in a chokehold and brings smoking metal to temple and-

“You’ve got ten seconds to get out here, before I shoot this pretty ‘lil thing in‘ta tiny ‘lil pieces.”

Blaine steps backward, for some stupid reason, and clenches his fists.

“So what, you’re just going to make me angry again?”

“No, you’re going to remember how angry you were, and you’re going to draw your power from that.”

Blaine breathes in, out. Clenches tighter.

“I haven’t been there.”

Sebastian pulling Kurt closer as they walk to class, tossing a sly, smug smirk over his shoulder as he meets Blaine’s eyes and-

“You’ll never be anything more than that pathetic, weak little kid who can’t stand up for himself.”

Blaine can hear his blood rushing in his ears, can feel his heart galloping against his chest, feel his mouth growing dryer with every passing second.

I’m warming up.

And so, with absolutely zero confidence, Blaine walks forward and grabs the man’s gun.

The metal begins to melt in his hand, small blobs of now almost-gooey silver hardening on his gloves. The man drops the woman, backs off, hands up, but Blaine can’t hear a thing but the blood whispering in his ears to finish him off.

His hand reaches up by itself, constricting throat and squeezing vocal chords and – and –

“Take care of yourself, honey, okay?”

Blaine squeezes a final time before he lets go – just enough to make sure the man won’t follow them. He turns to the woman, intent on asking if she’s okay, but she’s backing away, pointing a finger and breathing harsh.

“W-who are you?”

Blaine straightens his posture, looks as confident as possible.

“I’m Blazer, and-“

A small, screech-like sound comes from behind the dumpster, and it takes Blaine a second to realize what’s going on as Santana re-appears, snorting and clutching at her stomach.

“B-Blazer?”

“It’s my name!”

She legitimately snorts, bending over.

“You – looked – so – stupid, oh my god, I can’t breathe, ha!”

Blaine drops his gaze, drawing his feet together and looking a little smaller.

“You’re embarrassing me.”

“You’re embarrassing yourself!” She says between giggles.

“Satania, be nice.” Brittany says, walking out and standing behind Blaine, arms loose at her sides.

Santana catches a glimpse of Blaine’s face, sobers her face, and in a second she’s attending to the girl.

“You okay?”

A hum.

“You okay to get home alone?”

A nod, and she’s gone. Blaine gestures after her, a she-just-got-mugged-and-you’re-sending-her-home-alone hand wave, and Santana shrugs.

“She’ll be okay – she only lives a few minutes away.”

Blaine leans against the wall, sighing.

“Did I do okay?” He asks, pulling off his mask and pouting for effect.

“You did amazingly, Blaine.” Brittany says earnestly, grinning. “Right, Santana?”

“Right.”

A pause.

“Seriously, though? Blazer?”

Blaine bursts into giggles, shoving his mask back on and heading out of the alleyway.

Little does he know, a few miles away a twenty-something journalism student is typing up her latest essay on Life in Ohio and smiling a little too much to herself.

*

Finn pauses, squinting at his brother.

“So what, is your reputation more important than Blaine?”

Kurt uncurls himself a little, faces his sheets.

“No.”

It’s barely more than a whisper, but it’s enough to get Finn rolling.

“Do you think Blaine was thinking about his reputation when he told you how he felt?” He says, standing and bringing himself over to eye level with Kurt. “Do you think Blaine would care-”

“-I’m not Blaine, okay?” Kurt’s chest shudders like uneven ground in an earthquake. “I’m not half as brave as he is, and I never will be-”

“-so you’re scared?”

Kurt nods. Finn pulls him into a sit-up, tugs him close to his side and lays an arm around Kurt’s shoulder.

“I’ve seen the way he looks at you, Kurt.”

Kurt sniffles. “And?”

“He’s not gonna say no.”

“But I already told him I’m not interested-”

“-and it didn’t fool anyone, especially Blaine – he still looks at you like you’re some kind of god.”

Kurt pushes away from his brother. “I don’t want to get hurt again.”

Finn pauses for a second. “You’re gonna get hurt anyway, dude.” He stands, walks toward the basement door, pauses, and turns to face his brother again.

“You just have to figure out whether he’s worth getting hurt over. He’s hurting too, Kurt.”

Kurt sighs internally, lips pursed, murmurs a thanks, Finn and is finally, absolutely alone.

Is he worth-

Yes.

Rubbing at his eyes, Kurt falls back against his bedspread and turns off his lamp.

 -silence and oh-god-please-be-okay, heart thumping and knuckles white and-

“You were worried…about me?”

Of course I was worried about you, you stupid, beautiful boy.

Blaine’s crying and Kurt’d swear his heart was in his throat if he couldn’t feel it against his ribcage, wild and desperate and please-don’t-do-this, but he has to, he can’t let his feelings get in the way of his safety but then he can’t help but lean in, try to stave off his longing with a quick taste but it just makes everything so much stronger and then Blaine’s falling to the floor, and Sebastian’s behind him with a face far too evil for a person to be holding and- and-

Kurt squeezes his eyes shut, wetness mapping down his cheeks.

You’re worth it. You’re always worth it.

Kurt sighs, takes a shaky breath.

“I love you, Blaine Anderson.”