Kurt smiles, goes to reply with something witty and classy and perfect but then he stops in his tracks, and Blaine has to stop and backtrack so he can turn around and face him properly.

“Blaine.” Kurt says, somewhat-quiet, looking at him with wide eyes.

Blaine freezes, stutters on air, stutters for some kind of answer because Kurt is just staring at him and neither of them move until-

“Oh gosh, sorry!” Kurt says, suddenly, snapping into action and reaching into his pocket. “Blaine – my boyfriend – he was coming to pick me up, I should let him know that I’m fine,” he explains, tapping in the number as he speaks. “I’ll only be a second.”

And then Blaine has to snap into action, has to do something because he can feel the small, solid, all too-obvious press of his phone in his pocket, and he distinctly remembers disregarding it after the dial tone sounded (which still makes his heart pound like a sledgehammer) which means that he didn’t turn it off or down and that means that there’s almost a one hundred percent chance that-

-his phone rings, loud and clear, and the second it takes Kurt to look over at him, stand up straight and click the end call button seems like the longest second of his life.

Kurt stares at him, slowly crosses his arms. “Why do you have my boyfriend’s phone?”

Well, shit.

Blaine simply stares for a moment, lets himself gape a little because Kurt can’t see it, eyes blinking uselessly fast as his brain fires through for any possible explanation and-

“He…I…he dropped it – I-” Blaine cuts himself off before he can stumble over his words too much, tries to fix his thoughts into one straight line so he can provide a somewhat-convincing explanation.

Kurt raises an eyebrow, taps his foot against the old pavement, impatient-quick.

“When I first got to the school, he was there – he was freaking out, he heard a gunshot and then he couldn’t call you back – so I told him I could get up there, and that he should head home in case he was found at the scene of the crime-”

“-scene of the crime?” Kurt interrupts, tone suspicious, lifting his chin a little higher.

“I – somebody shot somebody, and as far as I know that’s a crime.” He only manages to splutter a little as he speaks, lets himself stand a little straighter. “And a lot of people in this town would rather blame the gay kid than some football player.”

“Oh,” Kurt says, and even though he’s still standing straight, face snarky and sharply-angled, it sounds quiet, small. Accepting. “I understand.” He glances down to his shoes as he answers.

“He must’ve dropped it, so I picked it up and…” Blaine wants to reach out, comfort him, hold Kurt tight in his arms until he feels his arms growing numb from the pressure. “…here we are.”

But he can’t.

“You should probably get home,” Blaine says, as lightly as he can, and Kurt manages to smile at him, if only a little.

“Blaine lives next to me – you could just give me his phone, and I could drop it off when I go to check on him.”

Blaine nods before he can stop himself, reaching into his pocket and handing his phone to Kurt.

“Are you sure you’ll be fine?” Blaine calls out as Kurt walks off, lets the night air half-swallow him as he steps away. “I can walk you home, you know.”

Kurt chuckles as he turns around.

“Goodnight, Blazer.”

*

Blaine can’t help worrying, so he walks Kurt home from the shadows, footsteps falling quiet on the roadside as he watches his boyfriend pace one slightly-louder foot in front of the other, wonders how he manages to look so casual and calm when it’s so close to being pitch black and he thinks he’s alone.

Kurt stops, suddenly, stands perfect-still on his side of the road, head cocked a little to the side. Listening.

“You know, for a superhero, you’re pretty bad at being quiet.”

Blaine doesn’t breathe, doesn’t move, doesn’t even blink. A moment passes, and Kurt sighs at his feet, continues walking.

“I’m sorry, you know.”

Keeps walking, stops breathing.

What on earth for?

“I’d probably be unconscious, right now, if it weren’t for you.” Kurt says, biting his lip, shaking his head a little. “And I know I’ve already said thank you, but…” he trails off, looking at the ground as he walks. Squeezes his eyes open-shut for a moment. “It’s silly to say it if you’re not here.” He says, more to himself than anything else.

It’s not silly. Not ever.

Blazer stays silent, waits until Kurt is a few houses away from his own (just to make sure), speeds over to his own and rushes through the door, up the stairs, into his room and the door is shut so Blaine can finally rip off the mask and thunk his head against his door and let himself breathe for a second.

He hears the door of Kurt’s house open, hears the gruff-concerned voice of Burt Hummel but doesn’t register the words, hears Kurt sound a little more upset than he seemed and his heart drops.

Blaine hears his own name, loud and clear and sobering, quickly changes out of his costume and rushes down the stairs and a moment passes before the doorbell’s ringing and he opens the door and there is Kurt Hummel, slight-slouching in his doorway.

They both mutter thank god at the same time, and Blaine rushes forward and swings his arms around him and squeezes as hard as he’s wanted to all night. Kurt pushes him away, just a bit, gives him his phone and mutters you dropped this and everything clicks back into place, and Blaine remembers that he hasn’t heard from Kurt since the gunshot.

“Oh my god,” he breathes, suddenly, pulling back a little so he can kiss Kurt hard on the mouth, let his tongue push past his lips and teeth and let his arms curve up around the top of Kurt’s shoulders so his hand can massage the back of Kurt’s neck. Kurt lets out this little whimper and melts into his chest a little more and Blaine knows he has to be doing something right.

Kurt pulls back a second later, forehead-to-forehead, noses almost touching, his breath nuzzling Blaine’s top lip with each tiny puff. “You’re okay.”

“I – I’m fine, Kurt.” Blaine says, breaking apart a little more and looking up at his boyfriend. ”You – the gunshots-“

“-it was Rachel, one of the guys up there shot her,” Blaine gasps, and Kurt nods, “she’s fine now, though, she’s in hospital with her dads.”

“How’d you get out, though?” Blaine asks. “They had a gun and given that they already shot someone, I don’t see how they’d be uninclined to do it again.”

Kurt pauses. “They were going to.”

A moment passes.

“And?” Blaine prompts, heart speeding up.

“I…” Kurt trails off, buries his head in Blaine’s shoulder for a second before surfacing. “You know that video that’s been going around?”

Blaine raises an eyebrow.

“The one of the superhero kid? Blazer?”

Blaine’s heart skips a beat. “Yeah?”

“Well, he showed up,” Kurt says, glancing to the ground, “and as it turns out, he’s actually kind of an actual…superhero.”

Blaine opens his mouth to respond, but Kurt starts speaking again before he can.

“I know it sounds crazy, I really do, I honestly thought he staged the whole thing because he just said his name and it was like it was out of some movie and it was just beyond cliché but even logical stuff was telling me he was telling the truth, which doesn’t even make sense but he was glowing, Blaine, and he picked Rachel up and he melted the gun and I’m pretty sure the guy that attacked me is still passed out in the hallway and – Blaine, you’re really warm, are you okay?”

Blaine blinks, lets his fingers stretch just to make sure and oh crap, yeah, he’s burning up and not in the feverish way, and he shouldn’t really have thought about the guy attacking Kurt again but he doesn’t really mind reliving that moment of satisfaction a few too many times than strictly necessary.

“Yeah, yeah, I’m fine,” Blaine says after a moment of Kurt blinking at him, “you were saying?

Kurt shakes his head a little, his hair falling a little askew, and Blaine’s heart swells at how adorable he looks.

“I was just saying that apparently I was wrong, and now…well, now I feel terrible.”

Blaine blinks, taken aback, slides his arms down to around Kurt’s shoulders and tugs him into the curve of his neck. “Why? Everyone’s fine, right?”

“Yeah.” Kurt shivers a little, and Blaine tugs him closer. “Thank god. But I’ve just been assuming things about this guy, things I can’t even prove, and I was beyond wrong.”

Blaine pats down the curve of his spine, and Kurt nestles his head to the side. “Everyone makes mistakes, baby.” They both freeze for a second at baby, but then Kurt kisses the crease of his neck and Blaine takes it as a sign to continue. “There’s nothing wrong with it, you know?”

“I know, but I just feel really bad.” Kurt whispers into his neck. “I know it’s silly, but I can’t help it.”

“It’s not silly,” Blaine says, and he doesn’t really expect the words to come out so suddenly but it’s more like a reflex than anything else, and when Kurt’s watery-blue, slight-smile eyes glance up to meet his he can’t bring himself to regret it.

“I love you,” he says, pulling him in until their lips meet again, and it’s a second of blissful flesh before he manages to pull away.

“I love you too.”

“I should get home,” he says, biting his lip and looking at Blaine with wide eyes and he knows it’s probably unintentional but his mouth turns a little dry anyway.

“You should,” he says.

You shouldn’t. You should stay and we should do things that I shouldn’t be thinking about.

Kurt just looks at him for a moment.

“I’ll see you later.” he says, stepping back and letting Blaine un-curve his arms, eyes staring and asking next time? because they can’t really discuss this kind of thing with words, not yet.

“Yeah.” Blaine says, trying so hard to agree with his own eyes.

“My dad wants to meet you, by the way,” Kurt says, out of nowhere, and Blaine almost screams before catching himself. “Properly – he wanted me to ask about dinner on Sunday. Are you free?”

Kurt’s still staring at him, same way, and Blaine is the most confused he’s ever been in his life.

“I am.” He says, because he doesn’t really know what else to say that’ll agree to both. “I’m totally free.”

Kurt smiles.

“Okay?”

“Okay.”

Kurt laughs, kisses him on the cheek again before he goes to walk out the door, and Blaine’s hand almost-unconsciously reaches up to touch it.

“Goodnight, Blaine.”