Blaine tried to stay away. He really, really did. He managed to go through all of Monday without more than a few glances at the bakery. He sat in his office, feeling absolutely miserable, trying his hardest to focus on the pile of papers in front of him, but his hazel eyes kept moving towards the window, hoping to see a glimpse of Kurt, but knowing he wouldn't. Knowing that, if he wanted to see him, he had to go find him. And he couldn't.

But when he arrived at the office again on Tuesday and was greeted by his father being annoyed at him for no particular reason other than Blaine's existence; when Walter spent good part of the morning discussing the latest law Ohio had come up with to avoid gay people getting married and throwing discreet, yet pointedly disgusted looks at him; when once again his dad told him all the work he had done for one of the cases was wrong, even though Blaine knew for a fact there was not a single mistake in it… he knew he couldn't hold back anymore. He needed Kurt. And the intensity with which he needed him was pretty scary.

So as soon as he could escape, he crossed the street to the bakery and pushed the door open, feeling comfort just by stepping inside and smelling the delicious scents of the food Kurt made. Kurt was behind the counter, there was a line of customers waiting and just as soon as Blaine saw Kurt's smile, he felt the tension of the day melting away from his body. He stepped to the end of the line to wait.

After a couple of minutes, Kurt moved from behind the counter to get a cake that was in one of the displayers and saw Blaine. His smile became brighter than it already was and, when he was making his way back with the cake to put it in a box for his customer, he grabbed his hand to pull him.

"What are you doing there, silly?" He asked softly.

"Uhm, waiting like the rest of the customers?" Blaine asked, wondering how it was possible that just a little hand holding could numb half of his brain cells.

"You still think you're just one of my customers?" Kurt replied playfully and he would've noticed how Blaine gaped at his words if it weren't because he was already busy looking for a box of the right size to put the cake in.

Blaine leaned against the counter and watched Kurt as he worked. Something warm flowed inside of him, knowing he was more special to Kurt than all the other people standing in the store waiting for their coffees or baked goods made him feel good after being treated like nothing but garbage by his father.

"Everything alright?" Kurt asked after saying goodbye to a customer, turning briefly to look at him as he poured a cup of coffee for the next one. "You're awfully quiet."

"Just thinking," Blaine did his best to smile. It wasn't that hard, considering just being next to Kurt gave him more happiness than anything else in his life. "And you're busy."

Kurt poured a second cup before moving back to the counter to finish with the customer. He handed it to Blaine. "Here, at least have some coffee while you wait."

"Thanks," Blaine took it and tried to ignore the way his whole body shivered when their fingers brushed unintentionally.

It took Kurt another ten minutes until he was completely free and, with a tired sigh, he turned back to look at Blaine. "Hey."

Blaine grinned at him. "Hey."

"Are you hungry? Do you want me to make you something to eat?" Kurt asked immediately.

Blaine had to laugh at that. "You know, Kurt, I don't actually come over only for your food."

Kurt's eyes sparkled and his voice was softer than ever when he spoke again. "Then why do you come over?"

Realizing what he had just said, Blaine gulped and looked away. He tossed his empty paper cup in the bin behind the counter. Kurt seemed to notice his awkwardness.

"Well, I'm still giving you something to eat," he said, as he moved to the kitchen. "What would you like?"

"Oh, please don't worry about me," Blaine said instantly, leaning in the doorway to look at him. He had never seen the kitchen. It was a considerably big space for such a small store with two ovens that took up most of the space.

"Blaine…" Kurt turned to look at him with a quirked eyebrow, a silent warning in his gaze.

"Fine, fine," Blaine rolled his eyes. "Whatever you have will be okay."

Mumbling to himself, Kurt opened the big fridge he had on the opposite side of the kitchen and grabbed a plastic bag. He extracted something that looked like dough from it and put it on the counter, dusting some flour on it so it wouldn't get sticky. He started kneading it quickly, just enough to make it malleable and then began to give it a long shape to it.

"What's that?" Blaine asked, curiously.

"French bread," Kurt answered, quickly putting the bread on a baking tray and slipping it into the oven. "I went to the market early this morning and they had fresh arugula, which is delicious with feta cheese and olive-based mayonnaise. It's one of my favorite sandwiches."

Blaine's stomach growled. "That sounds delicious."

"Good. Now get out of my kitchen, I don't like to be stared at when I'm cooking," Kurt shooed him and Blaine chuckled as he backed away.

There were two stools behind the counter and he took one and moved it to the front. He sat there, next to the register, listening to Kurt hum and letting himself believe for at least five seconds that everything in his world was alright.

He needed Kurt. He needed him desperately. Even though he knew the wisest thing to do would be to say goodbye to him and move on with his life, he couldn't, because he just wasn't strong enough to put out the only light he had in his otherwise dark existence.

It was going to hurt. It was going to hurt like crazy having Kurt in his life, being his friend, being close to him without being able to be more. But Blaine was so tired of being alone, so tired of having no one who cared about him, so tired of not having anyone to talk with at the end of a bad day. He was tired of having to be someone he wasn't in front of everyone else he knew because his true self wasn't good enough. But with Kurt, he didn't have to lie, he didn't have to pretend. And he could see, deep in those beautiful blue eyes, that Kurt cared. For some improbable reason, Kurt cared about him.

When a plate was placed in front of him, he was torn from his trance and looked up to find Kurt watching him with concern.

"Are you sure everything's fine?" He asked him.

Yes, not kissing Kurt, not ruining this friendship, not losing him was going to be one hell of a challenge. And yes, Blaine's heart would eventually get broken. But it felt so good right now, to have someone look him in the eyes and ask him if he was okay and really want to hear his answer.

"I'm sure," he answered with a small smile.

For the next hour, Blaine forgot about everything and let Kurt shine a light on his life.

Since that Tuesday, Blaine went to the bakery every day. If he had time he would cross the street and have lunch there with Kurt and if he had a trial or was stuck in a meeting, he would appear just as Kurt was closing, and they would share a cup of coffee as Blaine devoured one (sometimes two) piece of pie and they would talk about their day. Kurt was the one doing the talking, mostly, as Blaine was still very reserved. He would share very few details about his day, maybe he would mention if he had a new case, but nothing else. Kurt knew it probably had a lot to do with the fact that his father didn't make it easy for him to work there. And he knew, very deep inside him he knew, that he was Blaine's escape. Those few hours they spent together every day, or the few minutes they could steal away from their routines when they were busy, were incredibly important to Blaine. Kurt could feel the other man relaxing across the table from him as the scent of the coffee he cupped between his hands offered a certain comfort. He could see the protective shields Blaine kept raised during the day coming down slowly, opening up a bit, cracking a smile at Kurt's incessant chatter. Kurt's favorite moments were when he actually managed to make Blaine laugh. He had a precious laugh and he wished he could hear it more often.

That's why some days later, when it was time to close the store, he flipped the sign on the door, but kept it unlocked. He left the lights on and turned the coffee machine on so he would have coffee ready by the time Blaine got out of the office. He hadn't come for lunch that day so Kurt was getting ready for an exhausted man walking through the door. He had a chicken pie warming up in the oven because he knew that if Blaine didn't show up for lunch, he likely didn't eat anything at all, so he would be starving.

But when the minutes ticked away on the clock and there was no sign of Blaine, Kurt frowned. He went to the window and looked up at the building in front of the store. Most of the offices didn't have a light on, and if he wasn't mistaken, Blaine's didn't either.

He picked up his cellphone from where it was resting on the counter and searched through his contacts until he found Blaine's name. He opened a new message.

To: Blaine.

Hey, you! Are you going to be here anytime soon? I have your lunch slash dinner in the oven :)

He pressed send and waited for Blaine's response. The first sign that something was wrong was that it took the other man almost ten minutes to answer, when he usually typed a response back to him in less than two. The second, when the message finally arrived, was the sloppy way it was written, so uncharacteristic of Blaine.

From: Blaine.

sorry kurt i cant make it today

Kurt's frown got even deeper, worry settling in inside of him as he typed a second text.

To: Blaine.

Are you okay?

From: Blaine.

yef

That's it, I'm calling him, Kurt thought. What the hell was wrong with him? Something had happened. Kurt could feel it. Maybe Blaine's day had been even worse than expected. Maybe he had trouble at work or with his dad. Maybe he had gotten really bad news…

The phone rang for a couple of seconds until he heard the distinctive click that meant someone had picked it up on the other side.

"Kurt?" Blaine's voice was scratchy.

"Blaine, what's wrong?" Kurt asked softly.

"Nodding," Blaine sniffed. Kurt felt even more confused until he realized Blaine had meant nothing. "I'm sick."

"Oh, Blaine," Kurt whispered, half relieved, half still concerned. "What is it? A cold? A fever? A stomach bug?"

"Probably a bit of everything," Blaine moved away from the phone and started coughing. "I'm fine, don't worry."

"Is someone there with you? Are you taking any meds?" Kurt asked, moving behind the counter and turning the coffee machine off.

"Kurt, it's okay," Blaine answered, without really answering and it wasn't hard for Kurt to realize he was avoiding his question because Kurt wouldn't like what he had to say. "I'm sorry I kept you waiting. I should have texted you earlier…"

"I understand," Kurt muttered. "Try to sleep, Blaine. You'll feel better in the morning."

"Uh-huh," Blaine mumbled, already sleepily. "See ya, Kurt."

He immediately hung up and, sighing, Kurt turned around and walked into the kitchen. He turned the oven off and started looking for a sauce pan in the cupboard. If there was one thing that Kurt hated, it was being alone when he was sick. He could imagine how miserable Blaine felt and Kurt knew he wouldn't stop worrying until he saw the other man with his own eyes and made sure he was all right.

He worked quickly and efficiently and in a few minutes he had a delectable chicken noodle soup ready, which he put in a thermos to keep it warm. He hurried up around the store, turning off the lights and, after grabbing the keys from behind the counter, he locked the door and away he went.

He made a stop at the pharmacy to pick up a few meds. He wasn't sure what Blaine had exactly, so he bought some of everything just in case. He drove to Blaine's place and parked the car near the entrance.

"Good evening," the doorman said when he opened it up for him.

Kurt hoped he wouldn't have trouble getting inside. "Good evening. I'm here to see Mr. Anderson. I was here with him the other day? I don't know if you remember."

"I do, sir. It's not difficult to recall, since you're the first visitor Mr. Anderson ever has since he moved in," he gestured towards the elevator indicating Kurt could go up and, after thanking him, he walked towards it and pushed the button.

As he went up to Blaine's apartment, Kurt thought of what the doorman had just said. Blaine had never had visitors in three years he had lived there. He was alone when he was sick. He had a bad relationship with his father… who did Blaine have? Did he have anyone at all?

Luckily, Blaine's apartment's door wasn't locked, so he could just slip inside, hoping Blaine wouldn't mind. Robert immediately came to see who it was, wary at first, but when he saw it was Kurt, he started wagging his tail, happily. Kurt patted him on the head and then he looked around the apartment. The living room wasn't as tidy as it had been the other time he had been there. A few books and a pile of papers were scattered over the coffee table and it was obvious Blaine had been lying on the couch for a while because there was a blanket abandoned there and a cup with an inch of cold tea still in it.

He had an idea where Blaine's room was, so he walked down the hall. The first door was closed, so he kept going, until he reached the door at the end, which was slightly opened. He peeked inside to find a messy bed with a glimpse of dark curls sticking out in every direction from under the covers.

He knocked softly. "Blaine?"

There was a shifting movement under the sheets and then Blaine's face was coming out of them, blinking confusedly. "Kurt?"

"Hey," Kurt smiled and walked to him. "I'm sorry I let myself in, I didn't want you to get out of bed."

"What are you doing here?" His voice sounded hoarse and there were huge dark circles under his eyes.

"I came over to take care of you, of course," Kurt said as if that was the most obvious thing ever.

"You don't have to…"

"Ssh," Kurt interrupted, looking pointedly at him. "You don't get to argue with me when you look this miserable." He sat down on the edge on the bed and put his hand on Blaine's forehead, brushing the curls back. "You're really hot."

"So are you," Blaine muttered dropping down against the pillows again.

Kurt stared at him with his eyes wide open. Okay, then. Blaine was a lot more disinhibited when he had a fever.

"Thank you, I guess," he picked up the box he had carried with him and started searching through its contents until he found what he was looking for. "Open your mouth."

Blaine obliged, clearly too tired to fight it and Kurt slipped the thermometer between his lips.

"Stay very still, okay? I just want to make sure your fever is not too high," without being able to help himself, Kurt brushed back the curls again. Blaine was really cute without his hair all gelled down. "I brought you some soup, so you can have some after you take your medicines. Wait here, I'll go to the kitchen to get you some water, okay?"

Blaine's temperature was very high, but not enough to require a ride to the hospital, so Kurt gave him the meds he had bought for him, which Blaine swallowed with difficulty since his throat was sore, too. As Blaine tried to relax under his blankets again, Kurt started picking up the mess of tissues all around the bed and throwing them into the bin.

"Would you like some soup now? Or maybe later?" He asked gently.

"Could you…" Blaine's words were interrupted by a cough. "Could you just stay here with me, please?" He said with a quiet voice, his eyes closed and a hesitant hand extending as if he was trying to reach Kurt.

Kurt's heart swelled. "Of course." He sat down on the bed next to him and held Blaine's hand, using his free one to keep playing with his hair. He would definitely try to convince him to stop wearing all that gel.

"Thank you," Blaine whispered then and it was almost impossible to hear him, as he shifted a bit closer to Kurt. His fingers tightened a little around Kurt's. "Thank you so much."

"You don't have to thank me," Kurt replied just as quietly.

"Yes, I do," Blaine's voice seemed to come from far away and for a moment, Kurt wondered if Blaine was even conscious that he was talking. "You didn't have to come all the way here."

"No one should be alone when they're not feeling well," Kurt shrugged a bit, indicating it wasn't a big deal.

"My parents hate me," Blaine said then, and the hand Kurt had been moving over Blaine's hair froze.

He swallowed, without knowing what to say. "Blaine…"

"I'm a disappointment. My dad always tells me that if he could turn back time, he wouldn't have me." Blaine's eyes were closed and Kurt wondered if he should stop him, if he should stop listening, because this was obviously one of the things Blaine had been keeping inside and that he wasn't ready to talk about yet. "Aren't parents supposed to love their kids, Kurt? Doesn't your dad love you no matter what?"

"Blaine, sweetheart, we don't have to talk about this now…" he said as soothingly as he could, his heart breaking at the evident pain in Blaine's words.

"I did everything I could, Kurt," now there were tears running down Blaine's cheeks and, without being able to help himself, Kurt slid down a bit on the bed so he could hold Blaine against his chest. "Everything. My dad always wanted me to go to law school, so I went to the best law school in the country. He wanted me to work with him… but what for? He hates having me around. Why does he like to humiliate me all the time? Does he like to make me feel like nothing but crap in front of his coworkers?"

"You're wonderful, Blaine, so wonderful," Kurt whispered in his ear, and when he heard the other man sobbing against his shirt, Kurt wanted to kill Walter Anderson with his bare hands. "If he can't see it, then he's blind."

"I hate my life," Blaine said then and Kurt's arms tightened around him, pulling him closer, protectively, feeling the tears forming in his own eyes now. "I hate it so much."

"Oh, Blaine," he kissed the top of his head and slowly rocked him back and forth, not knowing what to do to comfort him.

"You're the only good thing in my life, Kurt," Blaine muttered, even lower, his voice resembling that of a child. "The only one."

Kurt felt the tears running down his cheeks. Blaine was shivering in his arms, probably because of the fever, but he was unbelievably warm against him. He wanted to say so many things to him, he wanted to whisper in his ear how beautiful he thought he was, how much he liked him, how hard it was for him sometimes to not lean over and kiss his lips. Kurt wanted to say that he had never met anyone like him before and that if his parents were too stupid to realize how amazing he was, then he wasn't. He could see it. He could see all the good things Blaine was. He was kind, generous, sweet and caring. He was beautiful in every way…

But he didn't say it. Because Blaine had a high fever and he probably wouldn't remember it in the morning. But he was going to tell him all of that, he really was going to, when he was sure Blaine could understand him, when there was nothing between them, no veil between his words and Blaine's head and heart.

Robert chose that moment to pad his way into the room, wagging his tail, with a tennis ball in his mouth. Kurt smiled at the dog and wiped his tears away.

"I'm not going anywhere, Blaine," he muttered. "And neither will Robert. Look, he came to see how you're doing."

Blaine sniffed and reached his hand weakly to pat his dog on the head. "Hey buddy," he managed to say. There was a pause, then a cough and then Blaine kept talking, as if he just couldn't keep anything else inside. "My mom was so upset when I decided to adopt Robert. She says he's a disgusting dog."

What the hell was the problem with Blaine's parents and their attempts to ruin absolutely everything in their son's life? "He's adorable. Don't listen to them."

"She wanted me to at least get a dog with pedigree," Blaine huffed. His voice changed, as if he was trying to imitate someone else's voice. "Why would you pick him from the streets, Blaine? He must be full of diseases. Do you want to get sick? You have plenty of money if you want to get a dog. Take that horrible thing to a pound and go get a decent one."

Robert tilted his head to the side and let go of the tennis ball, which fell on the bed.

"Nothing I do is good enough for them. If I had bought a dog… oh my God, I can hear their reactions. A dog? That's what you spend our money on? What are you, a child?" The voice he imitated this time was different and Kurt thought it was quite similar to his father's. "You bought a Rottweiler? You want people to think you're straight and tough? You bought a poodle? You like people to know what an embarrassing, disgusting fag you are?"

"Blaine, please, stop," Kurt was crying again. Were his parents really like that? He couldn't imagine what it must have been like for Blaine to grow up with them, to come out to parents like them, how hard his life must have been… was. It still was hard.

Blaine yawned. "You teased me because I named him Robert. But I have a very good reason."

"I know, you told me you weren't telling what it is," Kurt smiled a bit, despite his tears, his lips pressed against Blaine's curls.

"One of my favorite books is The Bridges of Madison County," Blaine mumbled, his face buried in Kurt's chest. "I wanted to be like Robert Kincaid, because he was free and he did what he loved…"

"It didn't have a very happy ending, though," Kurt commented, glad that they weren't talking about his parents anymore.

"It doesn't matter, because they were happy together. But that's not why I named my dog after him," Blaine sighed, almost contentedly, but then he had a coughing fit. Kurt moved to get a tissue for him. "Thanks."

"Why did you name your dog after Robert Kincaid, then?" Kurt wanted to know, petting his curls carefully.

"He was photographer. He loved his job, he went to a lot of really amazing places and saw a lot of amazing things that he was able to share with other people because he took pictures of everything he found," Blaine continued, unconsciously nuzzling into Kurt's chest.

Kurt frowned and for the first time since he had arrived, his eyes took in the room he was in. The walls were painted in the same white as the rest of the house. There were two doors, one probably was the bathroom and the other, the closet. The room was almost bigger than Kurt's apartment, but it lacked personality, a touch that would show that this was someone's room and not just a place to sleep. He suddenly noticed the old cameras on top of the dresser. There were five of them there and two more on a shelf by one of the doors, where Blaine had a lot of books. He then remembered he had seen at least a couple more cameras in the living room the last time he had been there, but he had thought they were there for decorative purposes. Now things made a bit more sense.

"You wanted to be a photographer?" Kurt asked softly and Blaine nodded without moving his head from his chest. "And why didn't you?"

"For the same reason I don't do anything that makes me happy," Blaine fisted Kurt's shirt in his hand. In any other moment and with any other person, Kurt would have yelled and shied away from the hands trying to ruin his outfit. Today, he didn't care. "Because it makes them hate me even more."

With that, Blaine fell asleep, exhaling loudly and holding onto Kurt as if he was a lifeline. And maybe he was. Kurt swallowed the bitterness he felt after what Blaine had told him. He couldn't imagine being in Blaine's shoes. He suddenly felt an urge to call Burt and tell him he loved him, but he stayed there, holding Blaine, caressing his curls and tracing soothing circles on his back, trying to comfort him as much as he could.

Blaine was even lonelier than Kurt had thought he was. He was even lonelier than Kurt had ever been.

Kurt leaned down and kissed his head again. He had never felt so protective of anyone in his life before, but right now, as he lay in bed next to the guy he had been falling in love with since the first time he had seen him, he knew that he wanted to hurt anyone who tried to hurt Blaine. The way his parents had fucked up his life was so incredibly horrible. Kurt couldn't believe someone would do that to their own son. He couldn't believe they wouldn't see the damage they were causing. Or see them and do nothing to fix them.

But he was going to. He didn't care how he would, or how long it would take him to do it, but he was going to fix every wound the Andersons had left in Blaine. Even the ones he still hadn't heard about, because he was sure there were more…

Kurt rested his cheek on Blaine's curls and sighed. It wasn't too long before he fell asleep, too, Blaine's body pressed against his, and the promise to make him happy making his heart beat against Blaine's ear, loud and strong.