There was no trace of Kurt's breakdown visible on his face when he returned to the Anderson's, other than seeming a little tired. Blaine arrived home before Kurt, which meant he must have stopped somewhere on the way home to recover for a while. No one would have guessed from his collected appearance where he'd been and what he'd been doing.

Kurt avoided any opportunity for Blaine to discuss what had happened earlier between them by staying near Blaine's family, though he didn't say much. Blaine was fine with that. He needed more time to put his thoughts in order, because his emotions were completely jumbled, bouncing everywhere.

He stared at the ceiling for hours in the silence of the night and listened to Kurt's breathing, haunted by the image of Kurt kneeling in front of his parents' grave, sobbing as he begged for help that would never come. He should've known that Kurt was a lot more complex than the bitchy front he put up. Blaine usually was very good at reading people – he was attentive and through working with children he had learned to see beyond the obvious. How had he missed this? How had he let Kurts abrasive manner fool him? How had Kurt managed to hide such deep wounds? How had Blaine missed the pain hidden in those blue eyes?

It was obvious to Blaine that Kurt had a lot of practice at hiding his feelings. How long had it been since Kurt had put up those defensive walls? Hadn't he had anyone to take care of him after his parents were gone? It hurt to think that Kurt must have been just a kid when his life fell apart on him. He'd had to grow up so suddenly, left entirely on his own. Blaine swallowed the lump of emotion choking him, fingers tightening on the blankets. He didnt even want to imagine what it must have been like – losing everything, and everyone you cared about. Having nothing left to remind you that theres still good out there in the world, if you know where to look.

Blaine remembered Kurt tensing when his mother affectionately hugged him, or whenever anyone touched him. He remembered the stiffness of his body, the tightness of his smile, the vague discomfort in his eyes. It wasnt difficult to understand why he acted that way. Blaine didnt even want to know how long it had been since anyone had offered him a gentle touch, out of pure affection and kindness. It made his heart ache to know Kurt was far more familiar with people touching him in more callous ways, but that he couldnt find the warmth comfort of a hug even remotely soothing.

How had Kurt's life led him to what he did now, to that alley where Blaine had found him? Blaine could guess, but the idea was still so foreign to him. How could the world turn its back on Kurt until he was forced to allow strangers to touch him, to do things to him that Blaine could only consider doing with someone he trusted, someone he loved? Blaine closed his eyes tightly, willing those painful thoughts away.

Kurt whined in his sleep, turning so Blaine could see his troubled face. There was nothing peaceful about Kurt's sleep with no escape even in his dreams. Blaine watched Kurt cling to a pillow, wishing he could just wake him so he could avoid whatever his subconscious was showing him. But was Kurts reality much better when he was awake?

Pale sunlight was starting to bathe the room by the time Blaine fell asleep. Just before his exhausted eyes closed, the morning light softly illuminated Kurt's face, his lips forming two silent words that Blaine clearly understood.

Help me.

*

Blaine woke early, in spite of only falling asleep at dawn, leaving Kurt to his restless dreams. He walked into the kitchen just as his father was putting his empty cup of coffee into the sink.

"Good morning, son." His dad's welcoming smile vanished as he took a closer look at Blaine. "Everything alright?"

"Yeah, I just didnt sleep very well last night," Blaine answered pensively, moving to the fridge to find something for breakfast.

"Any particular reason?" Henry asked, eyes fixed intently on him.

Blaine forced a smile, hoping it would look convincing. "No, dont worry about it. I just had a lot on my mind."

"If you want to talk about anything, I have some time," Henry glanced at the clock on the wall behind them. "I can go to work a little later..."

"Dad, really, Im fine," Blaine assured him. "Just work stuff. Theres always so much to do with the kids after Spring Break and I couldnt stop thinking about new activities..."

Henry clasped a hand on Blaines shoulder. "Well, then. For a moment I thought you might be concerned about you and Paul. Are you considering what I told you about the other day? About the engagement ring?"

Blaine almost dropped the pan hed grabbed to make scrambled eggs. "I-Im just not sure were ready for that step yet..."

"No pressure. Im just putting it out there, Blaine." Henry raised his hands and winked at him. "Okay, Im going to work now, but Ill see you later. Maybe we can all go out for dinner when I come back..."

"Sure, Id love that..." Blaine said distractedly, as he watched his father leave.

He didnt need to think about engagement rings, on top of everything.

Were his parents hoping he'd propose to his boyfriend during their anniversary party? Blaine didnt even want to imagine what Kurt would do if he got down on one knee and presented a ring to him in front of everyone else. And how was he going to explain Kurt walking out of his life soon after? What excuse was he going to come up with for their sudden break? What was going to be Blaines next lie?

He focused his attention on breakfast – stirring the eggs, making sure he didnt burn the bacon, brewing coffee, putting bread in the toaster – because it was easier than allowing his mind to carry on with the endless string of what ifs that threatened to give him a terrible headache. But then he abruptly saw hed prepared a tray with two cups, two plates, two forks, two knives, and realized what he was doing. He sighed and gave in. This was at least in character, something he would often do for Paul.

Blaine carried the tray upstairs, careful not to spill the coffee. He balanced it on his left arm as he used his right hand to open his bedroom door. Once inside, he gently pushed the door closed again with his foot. Kurt was still sleeping, curled around the pillow under the blankets – there were dark marks under his eyes and the same frown he'd seen on his face last night was still in place. He looked as if he'd done anything but rest, though Blaine knew he'd been sleeping for almost ten hours now.

He set the ray on the nightstand and took a deep breath. He didn't know why he was doing this or even if Kurt would react well to being woken up, but for some reason, he needed to do it.

Blaine sat on the edge of the bed, making sure he wasn't anywhere near Kurt. He decided shaking him awake could potentially be a terrible idea, so he murmured, softly. “Kurt? Kurt, wake up.”

It was easier than he had expected. Kurt stirred instantly, turning to face Blaine, slightly startled at first, then he looked confused. “What's wrong?”

“Nothing's wrong. I made breakfast,” Blaine said, feeling foolish. He offered a cup of coffee to Kurt, a peace offering.

Kurt blinked briefly, then struggled to sit up against the pillows and sighed heavily, as if he was too tired to move. He accepted the coffee, taking a small sip. He didn't say anything, but eyed him warily, waiting for Blaine to say something more.

“I couldn't help noticing you didn't eat much last night,” Blaine commented, mostly to fill the silence. “So I made you bacon and scrambled eggs. There's some toast, too, if you want.”

Kurt squinted at him for a moment, as if deliberating if he could trust him. He apparently didn't find anything negative in Blaine's face, because he murmured, softly, “thank you.”

Blaine settled the tray on the bed next to Kurt so they both could eat. Blaine was sitting at an uncomfortable angle to reach his plate, but he ignored it, more focused on working up the courage to say what he really wanted to say. He took a deep breath. “I'm really sorry.”

Kurt seemed startled again. His blue eyes flew to him, the fork halfway to his mouth and his cup of coffee forgotten in his other hand. “What for?”

“You know what for,” Blaine said, uncomfortably. “I had no right to ask any of those questions. I should never have talked to you the way I did yesterday. You don't owe me anything, and I appreciate that you're still here when you clearly don't want to be. It was never my intention to make you feel bad.”

Kurt remained silent. He set his fork down and clutched his coffee cup, staring into the dark liquid swirling inside of it.

“I'm sorry,” Blaine repeated. “I just wanted you to know that. You don't have to forgive me, but I needed to say it.”

Kurt nodded and sipped his coffee. Blaine wasn't sure what that nod meant.

Kurt's eyelashes were painting shadows on his cheekbones. Though his eyes looked hollow and empty, they were still the most stunning eyes Blaine had ever seen. His knuckles were squeezed white around the mug, his fingers long and delicate, a lot stronger than they seemed. The old t-shirt he was wearing was a little big on him, hanging crooked on his shoulders. Blaine remembered his slender frame, with ribs and hipbones too sharp to be healthy. Blaine looked at him then, sitting just inches away from him, yet distant, beautiful and unreachable, and saw exactly how tragically broken he was.

He did it because it was his first instinct. He did it because somehow it made sense. He did it because he wanted to make Kurt feel cared for and adored. He did it because he looked at the man in front of him and saw someone who had been abandoned, hurt and defeated, but he didn't want to fix him, because any man who had survived Kurt's life was strong enough to do it for himself, even if he didn't know it yet. He did it because the silently growing attraction towards Kurt suddenly exploded, searing through his veins, making his heart race.

He did it because a voice inside his head was screaming at him that kissing Kurt was what he desperately wanted to do.

Blaine moved forward quickly enough that Kurt didn't have time to react. One second they were sitting there drinking coffee and the next, Blaine's mouth was pressing against his. Blaine slid his lips against Kurt's eagerly when they parted slightly in surprise, tasting coffee, toast and something else, something that tasted sweet, uniquely Kurt.

It didn't last long. As soon as Blaine realized Kurt wasn't kissing him back, he pulled away to see Kurt's eyes were wide with shock. Blaine looked away and swallowed nervously, because that was enough to make him regret what he'd done. He'd clearly made a terrible mistake, considering Kurt was frozen, and unmoving.

What the hell had he been thinking?

“I…” Blaine stood up, avoiding Kurt's eyes. He realized he was still clutching his coffee cup, so he put it down on the nightstand. “I should… I have to go. I… I haven't fed Nayla yet, so…”

He didn't wait for a reply. He was too overwhelmed to stay there for another second and he couldn't deal with Kurt looking at him like that. He walked out of the room and down the stairs, his heart pounding wildly and his lips tingling.

Somehow, he ended up in the backyard. He looked around him, though not really seeing the blue sky and the green grass, and then buried his fingers in his hair. He had no idea what he was doing anymore.

*

Kurt sat there for so long he lost all track of time. A breath escaped shakily through his lips.

He closed his eyes and forced the constant horror that lived inside of him to stop choking him, his coffee cup gripped so tightly that it almost shattered.

Of course, he thought, bitter, desperate, hopeless. Of course.

*

It wasn't very hard to avoid Kurt for the rest of the day. Blaine felt ashamed, but he couldn't face the other man right then. Would Kurt forgive him for breaking their agreement? Should he apologize for kissing him? He hadn't had bad intentions – he'd kissed him because he really wanted to. But the way Kurt had reacted (or the way he hadn't reacted at all, actually) meant he'd been wrong in following his instinct.

It didn't matter how beautiful Kurt was or how attracted to him Blaine was. When someone was as broken as Kurt, kissing him out of the blue like that didn't fix anything. It just made it all worse.

Luckily, Cooper was around to distract him. His brother was the perfect person to have around when you didn't want to focus too much on yourself, since Cooper was constantly looking for excuses to talk about himself. All Blaine had to do if the conversation moved towards him or his boyfriend, was ask Cooper a quick question about his own life, and that was it.

Cooper was in the kitchen when Blaine walked back into the house after his sudden freak out. His older brother was leaning against the counter drinking orange juice and reading the entertainment section of the newspaper. Blaine guessed he was trying to find a reference to himself in it, even though it was too soon. His new show wouldn't start for another month or so. However, Cooper wasn't exactly patient when it came to his career.

“Hey, little brother,” he said distractedly, flipping the pages.

“Hi, Coop,” Blaine muttered. “Anything interesting going on in Hollywood?”

Cooper sighed dramatically. “Not yet. They're still refusing to acknowledge my talent.”

“The show hasn't aired yet,” Blaine pointed out.

“So what? They should have paparazzi following me around all day asking me about shooting the pilot,” Cooper said with a slight pout. “Have you not seen my latest commercial? It was a hit.”

“Of course it was,” Blaine nodded, not really paying attention. He'd discovered when he was about four years old that his life was much easier when he just agreed to everything Cooper said.

“I was thinking about going out for a run,” Cooper put the newspaper down. “I might have a shirtless scene for the second episode, so I need to maintain my fantastic physique. Do you want to come with me?”

Blaine weighed his options. Kurt was still upstairs but he could come down any minute now.

“Yeah, sure.”

He tried convincing himself that he was not a coward. He just needed time to put his thoughts in order, but he wasn't fooling anybody.

*

By the time Blaine and Cooper returned to the house, panting with sweat dripping down their faces, backs and chests, Blaine had managed to avoid his worries and confusion for a little while.

He wished he could keep running forever.

Cooper landed a heavy pat on his back, grinning. "That was fun. Next time Ill try to run a little slower, though. Must be hard to keep up with those short legs of yours..."

Blaine frowned and punched his brothers arm. "Shut up. Im not that much shorter..."

"Its okay. I's endearing, having a pocket-sized brother," Cooper took a step back to avoid getting a smack on the head. He grinned, all of his perfectly white teeth on display, as he fished two water bottles out of the fridge. Blaine caught the one he threw at him easily.

They were both gulping down the water when their mother entered the kitchen. Her smile faded as she scrunched her face.

"Guys, go take a shower. You both smell horrible," she said, scowling at Cooper severely when he tried to hug her. She turned to Blaine, frowning slightly. "You should probably check on Paul while you're up there too, sweetie. He came down to leave the breakfast dishes and he looked terrible. He said he had a headache, so I gave him some Advil and told him to go back to bed."

Blaine suddenly felt as if his chest was suddenly hollow. He swallowed some more water to gain some time and then nodded. "Sure. Ill check on him in a minute."

"Let him rest for a while longer if he needs to," Grace murmured gently. "He was even paler than normal. I hope its just a headache and not the beginning of a cold or flu..."

Blaine nodded again, absently. He knew Kurt's problem had nothing to do with that.

"Okay, let me know if he needs anything," Grace left the kitchen, followed by Cooper who announced he was jumping into the shower.

Blaine leaned against the counter and closed his eyes. He knew he had to go back upstairs and talk to Kurt at some point, but... he didnt know what to say. He didnt want to make things worse. They still had a few more days left and he didnt want to complicate things even more.

Though maybe he had already ruined everything. Maybe he had already pushed Kurt too far.

With a deep breath, Blaine put his empty bottle down on the counter and went to take a shower too. But he never went to check on Kurt.

*

One of the many benefits of having such a large house was being able to always find privacy… particularly when he wanted to avoid someone.

Blaine managed to evade Kurt all day. He avoided his mother, too, knowing she would immediately ask about his boyfriend. He would have to face them eventually, but right now his head was a mess and he had no idea how to deal with any of this. He should probably start by apologizing for what hed done, even if a kiss hadnt taken Blaines breath away like that in a very long time.

It had been wrong to startle him, even if it had felt so incredibly right.

*

Once Mr. Anderson returned home at the end of the day, all the distractions and evasions ended.

"Come on, family, lets go out for dinner!" He announced enthusiastically with a clap of his hands.

Blaine was perched on the arm of the couch, channel-surfing as he waited for everyone else to be ready, when Kurt walked into the living room. Blaine couldnt help studying him. He really did look pale and exhausted, as if he had been sick for a very long time. Blaine gulped and wished Kurt would meet his eyes just for one second, so he could at least make sure he was okay with joining his family for dinner.

Blaine had never felt worse than when Kurt looked everywhere but at him.

Grace stepped to him, cupped Kurts face in her hand and examined him, concerned. "Are you sure you're alright, Paul, sweetheart? You look a little sick. We can stay home, if youre not up for going out..."

"Im fine," Kurt mumbled, smiling tightly at her before he took a step back, out of her reach. Her hand slid down his cheek and fell to her side. "I just... uhm, I cant seem to get rid of this headache."

"Maybe you should take him to the hospital, Blaine, and get him checked out," she suggested, obviously worried. "Just in case."

"Do you want me to take a look at you, Paul?" Henry said as he stared at Kurt pensively, his doctor side kicking in. "Is there anything else bothering you, beside the headache?"

"Ill be fine," Kurt repeated, his voice strained. Blaine suspected he would snap soon if they kept at him like that, asking question after question.

Blaine decided to intervene. "Ill get him some more Advil when we come back from dinner. Im sure with a good nights sleep hell be fine tomorrow. Right?" He looked at Kurt, hoping he would help him.

Kurts eyes were a sudden flash of grey on his, gone before Blaine could really look into them. "Right."

It was going to be a very long, uncomfortable night.

*

The restaurant was one of the places Cooper and Blaine had always loved. Blaine would have enjoyed the excellent meal more if he wasnt feeling so guilty.

Kurt looked bad. Really, really bad. He was silent, eating slowly, and he seemed to be in a faraway world where the sounds of conversation around him didnt reach him. Luckily, Cooper talked enough for all of them, making it easier to avoid thinking about how Kurt was feeling. They left him alone.

Blaine was desperate to go back to the house, to talk to Kurt alone in his bedroom. He knew apologizing again wouldnt be enough to fix this, but maybe talking about it would help Blaine understand why Kurt seemed so entirely broken in the first place. Had the kiss really affected him that much, or was there something else eating him?

Blaine didn't allow his heart to flutter with hope. Or he tried not to, at least.

*

As soon as they arrived back at the house, Kurt immediately excused himself, murmuring that he intended to go to bed. Grace squeezed his arm gently, asking him to let her know if he needed anything. Kurt managed another tight smile before slipping past her and disappearing up the stairs.

Blaine watched him go; feeling defeated and lost, and then turned on his heels and went into the kitchen. His mother followed him.

“I'll make you some tea to take up to Paul with the Advil,” she said as she filled the kettle with water. “Poor thing. He looks miserable…”

Blaine busied himself looking for a tea bag and a mug. When he didn't say respond, Grace leaned against the counter and studied him.

“Is everything alright between you two? You both seemed… a little distant during dinner,” she muttered, hesitantly.

“We're okay,” Blaine replied quickly. She opened her mouth to retort, so Blaine fixed her with a stern look. “Mom. We're okay.”

“If… you say so,” Grace sighed. “But if there's anything you need to talk about…”

“I know,” Blaine ran a hand through his hair and forced a brittle smile on his lips. “Thanks, Mom. I'll finish Paul's tea and take it up. You can go to bed, if you want.”

She nodded and stopped to kiss his cheek before exiting the kitchen. As soon as she was gone, Blaine felt as if the silence of the house was enveloping him. He wondered what would be waiting for him upstairs. Maybe Kurt would pretend to be asleep so he wouldn't have to deal with Blaine. A part of Blaine hoped he would, so he could delay the conversation a little longer.

But another part, one that was, oddly, stronger, really wanted Kurt to be awake and willing to talk.

He walked up the stairs slowly, careful not to spill the tea. As if not spilling a hot liquid meant he could control anything he wanted to. As if not tipping the mug would help him to not tip his own dreams, hopes and fears all over the floor.

Blaine paused before his bedroom door. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath. He couldn't hear a sound coming from inside, which meant Kurt was most likely sleeping.

He pushed the door open gently and was surprised to see Kurt sitting on the middle of the bed, eyes downcast and fixed on his hands twisting on his lap. He didn't look up when Blaine walked in.

“I…” Blaine cleared his throat anxiously. “I brought you some tea and more Advil. My mom is really worried about you.” He put the cup of tea and the pills on the nightstand.

“Thanks. She's very kind,” Kurt answered in a soft voice, still not looking up at him.

Blaine fidgeted uneasily for a few more seconds, unsure how to say exactly what he wanted to say. “Kurt, I…”

“It's okay,” Kurt interrupted, quickly cutting him off. “You don't have to say anything, Blaine.”

“I think I do,” Blaine frowned. “I want you to know what's going on here…”

Kurt shook his head, and finally looked up. Blaine couldn't read him – Kurt was a closed book. Or even more accurately, he was a journal – a journal with a thick leather cover and a lock. He would never be able to see what was inside, unless Kurt gave him the key. “I know what's going on. I'm surprised it took this long, to be honest.”

Blaine was completely confused. He tilted his head to the side. “What do you mean?”

“Come on, Blaine,” Kurt laughed cynically, a bitter, sad sound that echoed against the walls. “I knew it'd come to this. It was only a matter of time until you figured it out…”

“A matter of time?” Blaine repeated. What the hell was Kurt talking about?

“Yes. It was a matter of time until you realized you're paying for a lot more than what you're actually getting,” Kurt murmured acidly.

And then, before Blaine had time to react or process what Kurt had just said, he quickly took his shirt off and his pajama pants off. In only a handful of seconds, he was kneeling naked on Blaine's bed.

Blaine's eyes widened in shock and bafflement. “Kurt! What are you…”

“Stop pretending,” Kurt practically spat at him, his eyes glaring at Blaine. “I'm not stupid and neither are you, so we both know what you meant with that kiss. You changed your mind about that non-sexual crap you said when we met.”

He fished under a pillow, and then threw a bottle of lube and a condom onto the bed beside him.

“I haven't had time to prep myself, so unless you want to watch me, you're gonna have to do it yourself,” Kurt muttered, his voice flat and his face emotionless. He turned until he was on his hands and knees, presenting himself for Blaine.

Blaine sucked in a breath. What the hell was even going on? How could Kurt think that…? Blaine felt like he was going to be sick. He didn't want this. Even if Kurt was incredibly beautiful and he was attracted to him… he didn't want this. Especially not like this.

“Kurt, I don't…” he murmured, stunned. He swallowed – his throat and mouth were suddenly terribly dry.

“Fine. You can watch, if you're into it, I guess…” Kurt leaned to get the lube and Blaine's eyes widened again in shock, gasping in dismay when he saw the thin white lines marking the otherwise flawless skin.

Scars. Those were scars. Someone had hurt Kurt; someone had damaged him – fucked him, oh god – hard enough to tear his skin.

“Kurt, stop,” Blaine pleaded, his voice jagged and broken and heart thumping painfully in his chest. “Please, please, just stop.”

Kurt froze immediately. Blaine had to wonder if Kurt was used to following orders when he was like this – if he ever had to just lay there and do whatever the man paying him wanted him to.

Blaine wanted to throw up just thinking about it.

His hazel eyes travelled, inevitably, over Kurt's body, feeling a heart-wrenching pain scorching over him as the pale, cruel marks seemed to glow on Kurt's skin, between the globes of his ass. His protruding ribs and hipbones were sharp angles and undulating hills without enough flesh to cover them, the saddest image Blaine had ever seen. Blaine was aware he had lived a protected coddled life, raised in the warmth of a loving family, and that there were millions of cold heartless people out there, but he still couldn't understand how men would want to just use Kurt for pleasure. Did no one care? Did no one stop to try to help him? How could they use Kurt and break him even more than he already was?

His hands shaking, Blaine tugged one of the blankets from the bed and took a hesitant step towards Kurt, who was still balanced up in the same position. He gently wrapped the blanket around him, covering his frail body. He reminded Blaine of a house of cards next to an open window: the softest breeze would've brought him down.

Kurt turned his head, staring at him with a frown. “What are you doing?”

“I meant what I said,” Blaine murmured, taking a step back again, giving Kurt the space he needed. “Yes, I'm paying for you to be here, but I would never use you like that, Kurt. Not like that. No matter how much money I give you, you'll never have to do that with me.”

Very slowly, Kurt shifted to sit on the center of the bed, his eyes greyer than before and his frown deepened. His fingers closed tightly on the blanket, shielding his naked body. “I… but you kissed me.”

Blaine swallowed nervously. “Yes. Yes, I did.”

“Why?” Kurt asked, tilting his head to the side in bewilderment.

Blaine knew he had two alternatives. He could tell Kurt he'd done it without even thinking about it, or he could tell him the truth. He could tell Kurt that he was attracted to him and that he'd kissed him because kissing Kurt had felt more important than breathing.

“Because I like you,” he said, with a little shrug. It sounded simple enough to him. That was a good, logical reason to kiss someone.

Not to Kurt, apparently. He stared at Blaine, looking absolutely lost. “I… I don't understand.”

It hit Blaine that someone liking him was a completely foreign idea for Kurt. Men didn't like him – they used him, abused him, fucked him until they were done and then walked away. Kurt was like a doll – they played with him until they got bored and found something new to entertain themselves with. They didn't play nice, either. They were rough and careless and by the time they were done with him, Kurt wasn't the same. Abused dolls lost plastic arms, eyes or hair, but Kurt lost something real. He lost a part of his heart every time he accepted a wad of cash that gave strangers the right to do whatever they wanted to him.

Blaine felt horror running through his veins like a cold, freezing deluge that left him trembling. His legs threatened to fail him. He was very close to breaking down and sobbing uncontrollably. The desolation and absolute hopelessness he could see in Kurt's eyes right now… it broke his heart, it drained him, it left him wondering how it was possible that life had turned its back like this on someone. He knew there were people whose lives weren't easy. But he'd never imagined Kurt was drowning in all the bad, cruel, nasty experiences the world had to offer. Someone who was so despondent, he couldn't even reach for a helping hand anymore.

“Kurt…” Blaine murmured, surprised at how hoarse his voice sounded. His throat felt tight and he could feel the tears building in his eyes.

Kurt swallowed with difficulty, and Blaine was sure he was choking back tears as well. His head snapped to the side, avoiding him once again. “It's okay. Don't… just don't say anything.”

Blaine took a step towards the bed, desperate. He needed to make Kurt see; he needed to open his eyes and see. “Kurt, no, I…”

“Blaine, please,” Kurt whispered, broken, and he looked smaller, huddled and closing in on himself in the blanket.

Blaine's gaze fell to the floor and he tightened his lips, forcing himself to do what Kurt asked for a change, even though leaving him suffering was the last thing he wanted. He nodded slowly.

Neither said another word. Blaine silently gathered his pajamas, then headed into the bathroom to change. Once there, behind the closed door, he splashed water on his face and stared into the mirror as he told himself to hold it together.

After all, it wasn't him who was broken into a million pieces.

When he went back to his bedroom, the lamp on the nightstand was off, Kurt had put his pajamas on again and was buried under the covers. Blaine knew he wasn't sleeping, but he allowed him to pretend.

At this point, he didn't know what else to do.