The Anderson household was very strained at breakfast the next morning, with awkward pauses extending into overwrought silence. No one was really eating, though they all pretended, just to have something to do.

Blaine was hunched over the table, clutching a cup of coffee between his hands. He kept replaying the previous night over and over in his head, wondering what he could've done to avoid this debacle. The hurt, betrayed look on Kurt's face had haunted him all night. He couldn't stop worrying if he'd made it home safely, or if he was still wandering around Westerville. He had tried calling his cell phone, but an automated message informed him that the line had been disconnected.

He had, literally, no way of contacting or finding Kurt.

Blaine ran a hand down his face. He was tired and jaded, after lying sleepless most of the night.

The sound of a coffee cup being put down on the table abruptly made everyone look up. Cooper was staring at his brother, frowning.

“I can completely understand that you're in full depression mode right now, but I would really like an explanation.”

“Cooper, leave him alone. He'll talk to us when he wants to,” Henry interceded, giving his oldest son a disapproving look.

“No, I'm sorry,” Cooper raised his hands as in apology. “I feel terrible about this, too, and though I saw the whole thing happen, I still want to understand.”

“I want to understand, too, darling,” Grace said gently. “But we should let Blaine have some space right now…”

Even though he knew his mother was right, Cooper was completely undeterred. “At the beginning of the week, I cornered that boy in this same kitchen and threatened to dismember him if he hurt my brother.” He fixed his intense blue gaze on Blaine. “I wanted to make sure he was worthy of you. He promised me he would never hurt you, and I thought you'd be safe. I believed him. But now you're sitting here looking miserable…”

“He kept his promise,” Blaine said tiredly, staring down into the dark liquid in his cup. “I was the one who screwed everything up.”

“Exactly,” Cooper continued, pointing at Blaine as if to emphasize what he was saying. “Last night, I watched you break that boy's heart into a million pieces, and I never thought he would be the one I'd feel bad for.” He leaned over the table, putting his hand on Blaine's arm where it was resting next to his cup. “Blaine, you're my brother and I love you. You'll always come first… but I don't think he deserved what he got.”

When Blaine's eyes filled with tears that he stubbornly tried to hold back, Grace turned to Cooper once again. “Cooper, that's enough. He doesn't need to…”

“It's okay,” Blaine cut her off. He kept his gaze down, as if he couldn't deal with looking at his family right now. “I ruined your anniversary party; it's only fair to tell you guys the truth.”

There was a new kind of silence in the kitchen now, expectant, curious and full of concern. Blaine could feel their eyes on him, and though he knew his family would never reject him – rejection had never been his fear – he still wasn't eager to tell them the truth. They wouldn't understand why he had felt the need to lie in the first place, to hide the fact that his boyfriend had dumped him, and actually, Blaine couldn't really understand it anymore either.

“Three weeks ago, Paul broke up with me,” Blaine began, running his finger along the rim of his coffee cup, needing some kind of distraction. “I was heartbroken, of course. And I know you three mean well, but every time someone dumps me, I feel like you're pitying me, like it was totally predictable, but… it makes me feel so inadequate, like no one will ever want me …”

“Honey, no,” Grace interrupted, unable to stop herself. She was sitting next to him, and cupped his face in her hands to make him look at her. “I'm sorry you felt that way, but we would never do anything to hurt you…”

“I know, Mom,” Blaine sighed. “That's not the point.”

“Let him talk, Grace,” Henry said, and Blaine glanced at him in thanks.

“I just know how excited you guys are about the thought of me getting married one day and having kids,” Blaine shrugged. It wasn't an illogical expectation, after all. They knew Blaine wanted a family – he just hadn't had any luck with finding the right man to start it with so far. “I was feeling really down about the break up and I didn't want to deal with your disappointment or Cooper's invitations to strip clubs…”

“Strip clubs are a wonderful way to get your mind off things!” Cooper protested, crossing his arms over his chest and pouting. “You know, all those hunky guys bathed in baby oil and shaking their junk right in your face would…”

Their parents groaned as Blaine scrunched his face in repugnance. “Not my style, Coop.” He took a sip of coffee. “Anyway. I know it's no excuse, but I wasn't thinking clearly when I decided to lie to you. I just did. I think I panicked a bit – I have those expectations too, you know I want the husband and the kids and the house with a garden, and I… I just don't know why no one wants that with me…” He swallowed, but decided to continue before they had time to say anything even mildly pitying. “So I was walking Nayla one night and I… saw a prostitute.”

Grace and Henry exchanged a quick glance, but Cooper's eyes were fixed on him, since he knew exactly where this was going.

“Before I even considered what I was doing… I hired him and asked him to play my boyfriend for a whole week,” Blaine said in a rush, needing to get the words out and over with.

His parents blinked as they looked at him, clearly surprised. Then Henry cleared his throat. “So, what you're saying is… that we've never met Paul? That he was a… prostitute, the entire time.”

“His name is Kurt,” Blaine muttered, looking at them pleadingly. They needed to look past what Kurt did for a living, and see the man inside. “Mom, Dad, he's… he's a wonderful guy, but he's had the toughest life. So many horrible things happened to him, things he didn't deserve. He's so strong yet so fragile at the same time; so beautiful and kind. I…” He paused and then decided he needed to be a hundred percent honest. “I fell in love with him.”

He paused again, this time because he felt himself choking with sadness. He was finally admitting out loud that he was in love with Kurt – but only when it was too late.

“I think he had feelings for me too,” Blaine murmured in a low voice. “We talked yesterday, and agreed to tell you the truth after the party was over. I think he was finally happy, for the first time in a long time. I think he was going to let himself have this, us, after suffering on his own for so long.”

This time, Blaine was unable to continue for a few seconds. His mother wrapped her arm around him comfortingly, while they all waited patiently until he could continue.

“He asked that we not tell you what he did for a living. He was so ashamed and I didn't want to make him uncomfortable,” Blaine shook his head, remembering the many examples of Kurt's self-loathing. “Last night was wonderful. He was happy and relaxed and I thought everything would be alright… but then Paul showed up. The real Paul.”

He could see Cooper clenching his fists out of the corner of his eyes, but Blaine didn't look at him directly. He couldn't focus on anyone else while saying this. It hurt like nothing else had ever hurt, when everything had fallen to pieces from seemingly something so perfect. The disappointment in Kurt's eyes would haunt him forever, reminding him of how he had broken his promises, over and over again.

“I still don't understand why he thought I would take him back, after heartlessly dumping me the way he did, or why he thought he had the right to get mad because Kurt was here…” Blaine took a deep breath. “But he said hurtful things that really upset me, and I lost my temper and admitted who Kurt was and how he came to be here. And Kurt overheard the whole thing.”

“Oh, Blaine…” Grace whispered sadly, rubbing her hand up and down her son's back.

“I didn't mean to hurt him, and I really didn't meant to actually tell Paul that Kurt is a… a prostitute. The last thing I wanted to do was to humiliate him,” Blaine felt the tears wetting his cheeks and realized he had started crying. “Paul upset me so much, that I couldn't control what I was saying…”

“So Kurt was hurt and he left?” Henry asked softly.

“Yes,” Blaine answered miserably. “I tried to stop him. I wanted to tell him that I'd screwed up, that I didn't mean to tell Paul, that I…” Blaine choked and stopped speaking, too emotional to continue. He shook his head once more. “It was too late. First he wouldn't listen, and then… he just disappeared.”

Grace ran her fingers through her son's unkempt curls. “What are you going to do, darling?”

Blaine sighed in defeat. “There's nothing for me to do.”

“What? You need to go after him! This is the perfect opportunity for one of those sickeningly romantic Hollywood endings!” Cooper protested, indignantly. “Seriously, haven't you learnt anything from me?”

“This isn't a movie, Coop. I can't go after him. He's gone and I have no way of contacting him,” Blaine dropped his head in his hands. This was the worst part: he would never be able to tell Kurt he loved him, to apologize for his mistake, and beg him for the chance to make it up to him. He would never see those beautiful blue eyes again. “I don't know where he lives and his phone line has been disconnected.” Blaine thought of the envelope with money that had been left on the bed – he thought of how Kurt had probably been counting on that money but had given it back. Why? After everything he'd endured for the past week, why didn't he take the money?

Grace pulled him out of his thoughts by kissing the top of his head lovingly. “Darling, I know you're sad right now, and you have no idea how to fix this… but you can't just give up. It may have started out as a lie, but I've never seen you as happy as you've been this week, with him…”

“That's what I said last night!” Cooper exclaimed, and his father shushed him.

“Don't let this go because it's unconventional or because it got complicated,” Grace continued, as if Cooper hadn't said anything, accustomed to her oldest son's theatrics. “I think you're the perfect man to help him find the happiness he deserves, too.”

Blaine leaned his head gratefully on his mother's shoulder and let her embrace him like a child. Her words shook him to his core, and made him want to go out there and search for Kurt more than ever. But he knew how difficult that would be. What if he never found him? He wasn't ready to face the consequences of that.

He just wanted the chance to tell Kurt how absolutely sorry he was.

*

As he drove home, Blaine couldn't help remembering the drive with Kurt on that first day, from Columbus to Westerville. It had been tense and silent and more than once, Blaine had felt tempted to turn around and drop Kurt back where they had met.

Even though he was driving back alone and heartbroken, he would never wish to go back in time and avoid all of this from happening.

Nayla whined from the backseat and Blaine glanced at her quickly to check on her before turning back to the road in front of him. She probably needed a pit stop, since he hadn't taken her out since early that morning, distracted by everything that had happened. He felt like a horrible person – he couldn't even make sure his dog's needs were met. How would've he made Kurt happy? Of course he had screwed everything up. It had only been a matter of time…

The idea came to him quick as lightning, when he recognized the approaching exit sign. He yanked the wheel to turn into the exit lane at the last moment, earning a few honking protests from other drivers because he didn't signal. He pulled over at the roadside and let Nayla water the grass before he continued to his new destination.

Blaine would never forget the day he had followed Kurt here – seeing him absolutely devastated, completely hopeless, and willing to give up. He had never thought he would come back to the cemetery where Kurt's parents were buried – at least not without Kurt's permission; he never wanted to intrude on his privacy like that, ever again – but here he was, driving down the cemetery path slowly, trying to remember exactly where the grave was, and trying not to let himself hope that finding Kurt would be that easy.

Kurt had told him the other night that he had never been able to leave Lima because he had felt incapable of leaving his parents behind. Though they were dead, they were all he had. So if Kurt was distressed about what had happened the previous night… maybe, just maybe, he might've come here to seek comfort from his parents…

But the cemetery was empty except for a very old man carefully bending down to put flowers on his wife's grave. Blaine didn't allow himself to be disappointed. He had no right to be disappointed.

He finally recognized the tree he had been hiding behind that day, so he parked the car, but didn't exit from it. He sat there for a few minutes, thinking and listening to Nayla's quiet breaths. She had fallen asleep on the backseat, and Blaine suddenly felt a million times more alone than he had five minutes ago.

The weather was very similar to that day's. Blaine walked towards the grave very, very slowly, as if he was giving himself time to change his mind. He knew he shouldn't be there, that Kurt would feel something precious had been violated if he found out, but there was something he felt he needed to do.

Eloise and Burt Hummel's grave looked exactly as it had a few days ago. There weren't fresh flowers or any other signs that would indicate that someone had recently visited. Blaine stared at it, unmoving, before taking a deep breath and kneeling in front of it. He removed a few leaves and weeds that had grown around it and then cleared his throat awkwardly.

“Hi. This is the first time I've ever talked to someone like this, so you'll have to excuse me if I'm not very good at it,” he muttered quietly. “My name's Blaine Anderson and I'm here because of your son, Kurt.”

He paused and watched as the old man walked away, leaning on a cane. He couldn't help wondering how long it had been since the man had lost his wife – or was it maybe a child or someone else? The careful, loving way in which he had placed the flowers and caressed the white stone on the grave marker said it had to be someone he loved immensely.

“I love him so much,” Blaine continued softly. “He's the most beautiful man I've ever met, and though he tries to hide it, I know he's as beautiful on the inside as he is on the outside. No one has ever made me feel this way so quickly… I've only known him for a week and I'm already so in love with him that the thought of not being able to just be with him is killing me.”

Blaine closed his eyes and felt the spring breeze on his face. He imagined it was Kurt, caressing him with just his fingertips, ghosting over his skin in the sweetest way.

“I've never understood the idea of the afterlife, or the notion of heaven, but I do like the idea of someone watching over me, someone I loved who'd still be there for me, taking care of me…” He ran his hands over the grass around the gravestone, thoughtfully. “I wonder if you can see him. I know he worries, about what you would think if you could see him, but I'm sure you wouldn't judge him for what he was forced to do to survive. Kurt… he's been damaged, you know? He's like one of those beautiful porcelain dolls my grandmother used to collect and never allowed me to touch. I couldn't understand why she never let me play with them, when I was just a boy. They seemed a lot stronger than all my action figures and teddy bears… but the thing is… they weren't as strong as they looked. They were fragile and hollow, and when I sneaked into her bedroom to look at them one day, I played with one… but I dropped it and then it wasn't so strong anymore, not when it was all covered in cracks…”

Blaine traced the letters of Kurt's mother's name with his finger almost reverently, as he gave himself a moment to breathe. He could feel his tears trying to fall, and blinked hard to keep them back.

“I didn't mean to hurt Kurt, just like I didn't mean to break my grandmother's doll,” Blaine sniffed, trying to keep himself under control. “I only wanted to see how perfect they were up close. And… and for the first time, I thought maybe someone needed me just as much as I needed them. I thought I'd be able to make Kurt happy, but everything went wrong…”

With his eyes closed, Blaine tried to imagine what Eloise and Burt Hummel looked like. Did Kurt look like them? Did they have the same eyes, the same perfect voice; the same velvety pink lips?

He honestly couldn't imagine anyone being as beautiful as Kurt was – not even the people responsible for his existence.

“I'm sorry,” Blaine murmured sadly. “I'm so sorry. I wanted him to be happy and ruined everything instead. And I know now that maybe my promises aren't reliable, not after I broke the most important one… but I swear that I will do everything I can to find him and make it right. I don't even care if he doesn't feel the same, if he hates me for betraying him… I just want to help him. I want him to realize that life can be wonderful.” He wiped his tears away, not sure when they had started trickling down his cheeks. “I'll fix it. I'll make sure your son is safe and as happy as possible. I'll fix it.”

As he said those words, Blaine realized that this was a promise that couldn't be broken. This was a promise he needed to see through, no matter what. It wasn't just about his honor or his credibility. It was about Kurt, and in that moment, Blaine knew nothing and no one mattered more than the man he had hurt and needed to find.

*

Kurt's apartment was shrouded in total darkness. He hadn't bothered opening up the blinds or turning on the old, cracked lamp by the couch. He had barely managed to make it home before his body, his soul and his heart gave out, and he collapsed on the floor crying, ugly sobs wrecking his throat and fragile frame shaking.

Kurt had promised himself long ago that he was done with crying, that he was done with feeling anything. Why had he broken those promises? Believing Blaine, and letting himself fall into his thrall hadn't been worth it. Blaine was just another man who took what he wanted from Kurt, added another scar and then walked away. He had never cared about him. Why would he care? No one cared about Kurt.

Kurt lost all track of time, once his sobs had faded to silent tears – he wasn't sure how long he lay there, on the floor, before his aching bones demanded he move. Then, he crawled to the couch and buried himself under his threadbare blankets, hiding away from a world that only offered pain. Thoughts of release into death and hatred for his miserable life swirled in his mind, choking him, until he couldn't think straight. He was so stupid, so very stupid, believing in fairy tales, believing in handsome hazel-eyed princes coming to his rescue. Hadn't he learnt anything? When would he finally accept that his life would only ever lead to disappointment and suffering?

*

I wanna die. I wanna die.

Please, Daddy, take me with you. I wanna die.

Make it stop.

*

Time stopped being important and Kurt began counting painful heartbeats instead of minutes or days. Every breath was agonizing as it entered his lungs, blocking out the less significant feelings like hunger and thirst, filling him with something toxic that only made everything worse.

He didn't go back to work – just the thought of allowing someone to touch him made him sick, sicker than usual. It made Kurt cringe to remember Blaine's hands had been the last on him, how willingly he had given himself to him. Blaine had awakened him, and played his body like an instrument, knowing exactly how to produce the sounds he was looking for, making melodies out of Kurt's pleasure and surrender.

So stupid. So, so stupid.

*

I should've killed myself when you died.

Daddy, I don't want to be here anymore. Please. Please.

I wanna die.

I can't do this anymore.

*

His body was screaming in agony. Kurt blinked his eyes opened and closed them again immediately, struck by a powerful headache. In the back of his mind, a voice reminded him that he hadn't eaten anything since the party at the Andersons'. He had no idea how long it had been since then, but likely it was at least a few days, for sure.

He had no money – the envelope Blaine had given him had been the only money he had, but there was no way he could have taken it. He didn't want it. It was tainted, dirtier than the cash other men had given him to pay for fucking him, to use his body. Kurt didn't want it.

There was no food in his apartment – he'd been living day to day for a very long time now. He quietly considered staying right where he was, ignoring his body telling him it was starving, and maybe allowing his misery to end. How long could it take until hunger killed him? How long can a person go without eating until it gets bad enough to die? He was too much of a coward to kill himself – but maybe he could do nothing and let death come to him.

But why was he just as equally terrified of living as he was of dying? Kurt had never been spiritual – he didn't believe in God, nor did he believe in Heaven or Hell – but in a life where there was nothing to look forward to, a life that had only slapped him in the face when all he wanted was to survive, death had been full of hope. Kurt had hoped that maybe, maybe, he had been wrong. Maybe there was something else after everything ended. Maybe last breaths came with a heavenly relief.

However, what place could a prostitute like him have in Heaven? Death would bring nothing but more disappointment. He couldn't expect to be fall into his parents' arms at the golden gates – he would be crawling in flames, trapped forever in a nightmare without end.

Dizzy, starved and more broken than ever, Kurt stood on shaky legs. He was a whore –there was only one way to survive.

*

The dark alleyway was familiar. Kurt had lost count of how often he had stood there, waiting for someone to show up with enough cash for him to have a decent meal the next day. However, it felt much colder tonight, standing in the wind swirling around the corner. But perhaps it was that he was cold to his very soul – shivers ran down his spine as he struggled to stay on his feet.

The tiny leather shorts seemed baggy on him and the corset felt like it was hindering his breathing, pressing on his fragile ribs and threatening to break them. His body longed for warmth that he couldn't provide, that he wasn't even sure existed outside of Blaine's arms.

A car parked just outside the alleyway, and there was a man standing in front of him in just a matter of seconds, thrusting a wad of cash into his hand and whispering filthy words as he pushed Kurt deeper into the alley, farther from any prying eyes. Kurt found himself pushed against a wall, holding onto it for purchase as the man yanked his tiny shorts down and forced his legs open.

Kurt rested his forehead against the dirty wall and closed his eyes as the man quickly rolled the condom Kurt always carried with him on his cock, and pushed into him without a second's hesitation. Kurt's breath stuttered in his chest, revulsion flooding him as he fought to keep the nausea at bay. He didn't want to be touched. He had never wanted to be touched.

He thumped into the wall with every one of the man's unforgiving hard and steady thrusts. Kurt would've been in a lot more pain if he hadn't been so very numb already.

“That's it, you filthy little slut,” the man panted against his ear. “Look at that greedy hole swallowing my cock…”

It had been a very long time since he had cried while being fucked by a customer (that time had been a really bad one, with a man that didn't even give him time to prep himself and got off on hurting him), but he was so close to tears now. He didn't want to be called names – even though he knew they were true, so true… – and he didn't want this horrible animal to erase the vestiges of Blaine's hands on him, of Blaine's body on his. Even if it had all been a terrible lie, no one had ever touched him like Blaine had, so carefully, so delicately like he was precious to him. No one had ever made him feel that way…

“You love it, don't you, little bitch?” The man said as he went a little faster, a little harder. One of his hands snaked around to Kurt's front, as the other held him steady so he could keep fucking him. “You love having a cock in your ass, don't you?”

Kurt had never been less aroused. His cock hung limply between his legs, completely uninterested. Some customers didn't notice; others jerked him until his body had no option but to react to their rough ministrations. Most of them didn't really care if he came or not, as long as they got to get off themselves.

However, when this man's hand found Kurt's soft cock, his thrusts stopped abruptly. Kurt could feel him breathing heavily against his back.

“What the hell? You're not even hard?” He pulled out swiftly, making Kurt wince in discomfort before forcing him to turn around and shoving him against the wall again. Kurt's back hit the cold, dirty stone behind him. “What's wrong, huh? You don't like how I fuck you, whore?”

Kurt blinked numbly, feeling weaker than he had felt only minutes ago. “I can suck you off if you'd prefer…” He fumbled for a fresh condom, but the man knocked his hand away roughly.

“I don't want you to suck me off! I want to fuck you and I want you to enjoy it!” The man pushed him again. “Can't you even do that, you worthless piece of shit?”

The first blow took him by surprise. One moment Kurt was trying to focus enough to calm the man down, and the next his cheek burned and he was sliding down the wall, his legs finally giving out. The man hit him again and again after that, as Kurt curled up to protect himself, but he couldn't evade the kicks to the stomach, fists to the head. He whimpered and begged him to stop, but not loud enough to summon help.

After a while, the man must have heard something – footsteps, maybe, or a car driving by – because he stopped abruptly, looked around warily and then picked his money up, only leaning close to Kurt to spit ‘whore' at him, before he walked out of the alleyway, leaving him there alone.

Kurt whimpered again. His whole body felt on fire, pain burning from the inside out. His limbs were too heavy to move them and he could feel something warm running down his face. He was too out of it to realize it was his own blood.

Maybe this was the way he was supposed to die, Kurt thought right before losing consciousness. Maybe his life was supposed to end just as devoid of dignity as it had been all along, since he'd dropped down to his knees in a high school locker room.

Make it stop. Daddy, please, make it stop.

Kurt took one last shuddering breath, and then everything went black.