What Kurt didn't know was that he'd been up since three o'clock that morning, his thoughts buzzing too quickly with what-if's to fall asleep. What if I break my arm again? What if I don't get into New Directions? What if his friends don't like me? What if Karofsky got worse over the summer? What if I don't make it?

Today he was going back to public school. Sure, it wasn't Westerville High, and the people were slightly more civil, but it was still public school. There was no zero-tolderance harassment policy. If someone shoved him into a locker, they'd walk away with a slap on the wrist and he with a sore back for the rest of the day. He tried repeating the same mantra to himself. "I'm not going to die, it's just school. I'm not going to die, it's just school. I'm not going to die. I'm not going to die."

But yet despite this, despite all his self-reassurance that it was gonna be okay, that he'd only be minorly bruised, that it was going to be a great year, something was still missing. Something was still making it difficult for him to see the clothes he had laid out on the bed for himself.

Maybe it was the simple fact that he wasn't going to Dalton anymore. The fact that beyond those mural-covered walls was the real world, a place where would go out of their way to shove him to the side just because he loved someone they didn't expect him to. It sickened him, and it hurt knowing that he didn't do anything. He didn't do anything to stand up for himself, or say anything to defend who he was.

It was too late for that. He had to let it go now, because he was going to a new school now. He was going to William McKinley High, and it was too late to turn back.

So absorbed was he in his thoughts that he didn't notice Kurt was in the room until he heard the door click shut softly behind him.

"You all right?" Kurt murmured.

"Just nervous," admitted Blaine with a little chuckle that was meant to be lighthearted, but came out as high and breathy and borderline insane. There really was no point in trying to hide anything from Kurt; he'd just quirk an eyebrow at him that said he absolutely knew you were lying to him, and Blaine was always just sort of a pushover when it came to Kurt, anyways.

"Mm," Kurt said. "I can see why. Go to McKinley in that and you'll stand out for sure."

With a start, Blaine realized that he had laid out his Dalton uniform on the bed in front of him.

"Force of habit I guess," he said sheepisly, thanking whatever was up there that his laugh didn't sound so much like a possessed schoolgirl. Kurt chuckled lightly, and Blaine loved the way that Kurt could laugh at him and still make him feel like the greatest guy in the world.

"Well come on then," Kurt said, suddenly all business. "Change into something at least halfway decent-" he plucked at Blaine's worn-out tee-shirt "-and I'll let you borrow something of mine."

"Cool," Blaine said, grabbing the first two things that were not his Dalton uniform. You're done with that, he told himself. It can't protect you anymore.

He could hear Kurt rifling through his closet, occasionally muttering things like "Hmm, that's not half bad," or "Oh god, why would you even own that?"

When he turned around, he was that Kurt had something tucked under his arm, but didn't question it.

"You ready to go?" he asked.

"Uh, I...yeah," Blaine answered, his voice once again coming out sounding closer to something uttered by a mouse than by a human. Kurt didn't laugh though; he strolled across the room, dropping the bundle on the bed as he went, and wordlessly wrapped his arms around Blaine's neck. Blaine responded in kind, squeezing his eyes shut and just breathing in the smell of Kurt, the way he always smelled like shampoo and cologne and also just the tiniest hint of strawberries and caramel popcorn.

"You are going to be fine, all right?" And with Kurt gently pressing a kiss to his neck, and his arms firmly gripping Blaine's shoulders, for the first time, he truly believed it.