One of those stitches was his father. Burt Hummel always woke his son up with a smile on his face, despite how he was feeling inside. Kurt's father always put his son before himself. When he would fail miserably at cooking dinner, they would laugh together. The first time it happened, they stopped abruptly and just looked at each other with a little confusion. Was laughing... okay? After a while, though, they began to feel more at ease with the idea of being happy.

Another one of those stitches was Blaine. It didn't matter how much Dave picked on him at school or how often he missed his mother singing to him at night. Blaine always found a way to make him smile. Sometimes when they were spending the night together, and they were lying quietly in the dark, Kurt would whisper to the curly-haired boy, asking if he would sing to him. Blaine always did.

The third stitch was the T-shirt that Kurt had taken from his parents room in the previous year. Even after staying under his pillow for over twelve months, it still managed to smell like her. He didn't cuddle with it every night like he used to, but when he's been having a particularly bad day, either with bullying from Dave or just missing his mother, he'd pull it out from under his multiple pillows and press it to his face.

There was also an unexpected stitch to help mend his heart: Blaine's mom. Now, Blaine's mother was in no way a replacement for his own, but Kurt found that he liked spending time with her. Sometimes when Kurt was at Blaine's house and Blaine's mother was working in her studio, Kurt would just sit in there and watch her work, occasionally asking questions. Blaine's mom had the best job in the world, Kurt thought. She got paid—and lots of money, too—to create her own clothes. Mrs. Anderson always welcomed Kurt's opinions and comments, and every once in a while she even agreed with him, changing the neckline in a shirt or adding different buttons to the pockets of a pair of jeans because Kurt suggested it. This always made Kurt feel important, like his opinion mattered.

Today was one of those days. It was a Friday, and the boys had had a half-day at school, so Kurt was spending the afternoon and that night at Blaine's house. Apparently there was a huge football game on TV, and Blaine had wanted to watch it with his father. Kurt, on the other hand, didn't have any interest in watching football, so instead he spent those few hours with Mrs. Anderson in her studio while she worked on a new dress. Kurt sat on the love seat on one side of the room while pattered on and 'tsk'ed to herself.

"Is something wrong?" Kurt asked, watching as she eyes the skirt of the dress.

"I can't decide if I want to leave this floor length or cut it shorter," Mrs. Anderson replied, fingering the fabric.

Kurt hopped up from his chair and grabbed his sketchbook from the side table he'd left it on. He made a quick copy of the design laying out on the desk—which was extremely good for his age—only making the skirt much shorter. Not too short, though. It ended just below the knees.

"What about this?" he asked, holding his drawing out to her.

"That... wow, Kurt, that's fantastic!" Mrs. Anderson moved to edit the drawing on her desk.

"Thanks," Kurt mumbled in reply, blushing a little.

"Do you have any other pictures in there?" Blaine's mom asked as she finished her touch-ups.

"A few," Kurt replied, turning to the front of the notebook.

"May I see them?" Mrs. Anderson asked with a smile. It reminded Kurt of Blaine's smile.

"I guess if you want to..." Kurt said as he handed her the sketchbook. He grew a little self-conscious as she flipped through the pages, a skeptical look on her face. The small boy picked imaginary lint off of his pristine clothes and shuffled his feet.

"Kurt, these are... quite impressive for someone your age," she said, smiling at him. "They're very, very good. You should keep at it." Mrs. Anderson closed the notebook and handed it back to Kurt.

"Thanks," he said with a small smile.

"Hey, and maybe once you're old enough you could work for me," she winked and stood up from her desk, ruffling his hair—which he immediately fixed—as she passed to finish her project.

XOXOX

The next Monday, Kurt and Blaine walked into class together, all smiles and laughter, until they heard a familiar voice.

"You're such a freak," Dave's sneer came from the other side of the room, where he had a very scared-looking Rachel cornered, tears in her eyes.

Kurt was fed up. Dave had picked on him and insulted and pushed him around for years. And now he was picking on Rachel? No, this was not okay.

"Hey!" Kurt shouted, running over and putting himself between the two. "You cannot say stuff like that to her!"

"Yeah?" Dave laughed, taking a step closer to Kurt, invading his space. "What are you going to do about it?"

Kurt didn't say anything. He opened his mouth, but nothing came out. He wanted to, but he didn't know what to say. Dave just smirked at him, then reached up and pushed Kurt over, effectively sending him sprawling on the ground. The smaller boy glared up at him.

"That's what I thought," Dave laughed. He moved to actually kick Kurt while he was down, but Blaine intervened, stepping in front of Kurt and shoving Dave away.

"Don't you dare!" Blaine shouted, face malicious. "All you are is a bully, Dave. You constantly try to put people down for irrational reasons, trying to make them feel bad about themselves because you're jealous or because you have this illogical idea that you're better than them, and it's not okay!"

Dave looked properly terrified, now, and Kurt was very impressed with Blaine's vocabulary. Then suddenly, Dave's expression changed. Anger spreading over his features, he reached back and proceeded to connect his fist to Blaine's face, right under his eye. Rachel shrieked in horror, and Kurt finally pulled himself up off the floor.

"Go get a teacher!" Kurt told her, and she nodded fearfully, eyes wide as she ran out of the room.

Almost the whole class was surrounding them to watch and Dave repeatedly hit Blaine in the face, chest, shoulder. Blaine was sometimes able to dodge or deflect the blows, but he knew better than to hit back.

"Stop it!" Kurt yelled, trying to put himself between the two. He was pushed away by Dave, though, colliding with the wall and having the wind knocked out of him.

"Boys! What's going on?" Kurt vaguely processed Mr. Edwardson bursting into the room, and effectively pulling Dave off of Blaine.

When he was able to breathe—and think—he found that Rachel was helping him into a sitting position. He looked up at Blaine, who had a split, bloody lip and a dark shadow already forming under his eye. Blaine wasn't crying, but just the sight of him cause tears to well in Kurt's eyes.

XOXOX

"So I got a call from your principal today," Burt said, looking sidelong at his son as they pulled away from the school. Kurt fiddled nervously with his seat belt and bit his lip, not saying anything. "Why didn't you tell me this kid was picking on you, Kurt?" Kurt shrugged, avoiding his dad's eyes.

"I didn't feel like I needed to," he said quietly. "And... And I didn't want to disappoint you."

"What?" Burt asked, shocked. "How on Earth could a bully picking on you make me disappointed in you?"

"Well," Kurt started, "you always say that 'no one pushes the Hummels around,' and I thought that... me being pushed around might... disappoint you."

"Kurt—"

"I know I'm not like the other boys, Dad. I don't like football, or cars, or action movies. I like clothes, and decorating, and singing; those kind of things. And I'm pretty sure that's what Dave picks on me for, because I'm different."

Burt Hummel's eyes were getting misty. He was ninety percent sure of what was going on, but Kurt didn't understand it yet, so he wasn't going to say anything. Instead, he pulled into the parking lot of a nearby ice cream shop and shut off the car, climbing out and gesturing for Kurt to follow. Confused, Kurt undid his seat belt and followed his father into the parlor.

Burt ordered a double chocolate chunk in a waffle cone, while Kurt opted for a small vanilla scoop in a cup. They sat at a table in the corner quietly, and Kurt mind was reeling, worrying about just what his father wanted to say to him.

"Kurt," the boy looked up at the sound of his name. Burt's eyes were boring into his, transferring a large amount of emotion through just the expression. "I don't want you to ever be afraid to tell me anything, alright? I'd much rather hear about you being bullied from you before it's so serious that I get a call from the principle. If you had told me sooner, I could have stopped it.

"And there is no way that you being bullied could ever make me disappointed in you, understand?"

Kurt nodded as he replaced his spoon in his cup. "Okay."

"I also need to tell you that the bullying is not your fault, okay? No matter what those kids say, yo are absolutely perfect as you are." Kurt nodded again, trying not to tear up. "Your principal also told me that Dave is going to be suspended for a few days, and when he comes back, he's not going to be in your class anymore. Plus, they're going to keep him out of your class next year, too."

Kurt nearly started crying. He was so relieved to not have to worry about the bully anymore. And he knew that they would be going to different middle schools. Four years without Dave Karofsky. Yes, please.

"Do you know how much trouble Blaine is in?" the fourth-grader asked.

"No, they didn't tell me. You can call him when we get home, though." But replied.

"Alright," Kurt said as his father stood up. "And, Dad?"

"Yeah?"

"Thank you."

XOXOX

It turns out that Blaine didn't get into too much trouble, he only had a referral sent home with him since he never actually hit Dave back—both Rachel and Kurt had confirmed it. He did have and ugly, dark bruise under his eye and a scabbed lip, though. So the next day they walked into class together with higher spirits and smiles on their faces. They were sitting at their desks and preparing themselves for another day of having knowledge shoved down their throats when Rachel walked up to them, seemingly oddly shy for her competitive attitude.

"Hi, guys," she said with a small smile.

"Hey Rachel, what's up?" Blaine smiled at her.

"I, uhm, I wanted to thank you guys for standing up for me the other day. It wasn't something you had to do, and—here, I made you these." The small girl pulled her hands out from behind her back and held out two homemade bracelets to the pair. They were every color of the rainbow, and there was even a silver, sparkly thread woven in.

"Wow, Rachel," Kurt said. "There are really cool!"

Each boy took their bracelet and helped the other put it on, admiring them.

"You really like them?" Rachel smiled.

"Of course we do! They're totally awesome!" Blaine exclaimed.

"Would you help me put mine on?" She asked a little timidly, holding out another bracelet. Blaine jumped up from his seat and secured the band of threads onto her wrist. Then he tugged on her arm and pulled her into a hug. Kurt stood up quickly and joined them, wrapping his arms around Rachel from behind. All three of them laughed.

XOXOX

When Kurt was picked up from school that day, he immediately showed his dad the bracelet.

"That's really nice, Kurt. I take it your enjoying school a lot more, now?"

"Yeah, Dad. It's great."