What if I told you that it's just a front –

To hide the insecurities I have?

What if I told you that I'm not as strong –

As I like to make-believe I am?

"Kurt, what is this?" Mr. Anderson asked, his gaze still fixed on his student's forearm.

Kurt let out a single, humorless chuckle. "It's exactly what it looks like, dumbass."

The teacher looked up; eyes filled with worry, disapproval and...fear? "Why, Kurt? Just tell me why? Please?"

The boy looked away. "I wouldn't expect you to understand."

Mr. Anderson released Kurt's arm and sat back down on the edge of his desk. "I agree. I don't expect I will. But I'm also sure that you don't talk about it even though you need to. I know you need to."

Kurt inhaled slowly, flopping back down into his seat. "What if I told you that it's just a front? Everything I do, everything I say, it's notme. There's so much that I'm afraid of saying, secrets, truths. I'm terrified of somebody seeing through me," he said, wiping a tear from the corner of his eye as his breath caught.

"To me, you're pretty transparent. Why do you do it though? Howlonghave you being doing that?" The history teacher murmured, his voice soft.

Kurt didn't know why he was pouring his heart out, all his fears, lies, truths, his story, to his teacher, but he couldn't stop himself. It just feltrightto let it out to Mr. Anderson. "My mother died in a car accident when I was eight. My father had to take time off of work to look after me, and himself too, I suppose. He didn't have money to pay for anything but food and bills after that. As I've said, he couldn't afford to send me to dance anymore but...it was my mother who got me interested in dancing. It was the only way I felt I could connect to her after she died. And then that was taken away and I felt soconstricted." Kurt looked down at his hands, folded in his lap, as hot tears spilled over his eyelids. He continued, "I didn't know what to do. I felt like my father didn't care. I mean, I know better now, but to a fourteen year old boy, doing nothing more thansurvivingfor six years, it never seemed like that. I didn't know what I was doing when I first...when I first cut. I was just so, so afraid. It was the only pain I could control. I was hurting so damn much, but I couldn'tcontrolit. So I controlled my blades instead."

Blaine inhaled slowly, blinking back tears. He slowly slid down off of the desk, settling on his knees in front of Kurt's seat. He took the student's hand into his own, holding it and allowing the boy to reveal his story, his feelings. The boy swallowed, using his free hand to wipe away his tears.

"When I came to McKinley, I was bullied for my voice, because it's 'girly', for my clothes, because I loved fashion and I always wore things that were on the runway, and when I came out, because I'm gay. It tore me apart. Quinn, I don't know if you know her, she fell pregnant in our sophomore year. It practically ruined her. She knew that things wouldn't be the same, so she decided to change, decided to stop letting herself be the victim. She knew about my cuts, she'd seen them when I was changing for a competition in Glee Club, and she invited me to join her. And here I am now, lying about who I am because I'm so sick of being the victim. I justcan'tbe the victim anymore," Kurt sobbed, falling forwards and into his teacher's arms.

Blaine knew he shouldn't, but he couldn't stop himself from wrapping his arms around the boy, knowing that all he needed right now was to be held. He pulled Kurt onto his lap as his student curled up tighter, pressing himself into Blaine's chest.

"It's okay, Kurt. It'll be okay," he murmured into his hair.

"How can you know that though?" Kurt asked, pulling back slightly, looking up at his teacher with glassy eyes, his face red and puffy.

"Because you're strong," Blaine whispered, moving his hands to grip the sides of Kurt's face. "I know that you're strong, even if you don't believe it. Under all of this, you're so strong. And I'm going to be here for you every single step of the way. I promise, we'll make it better,together."

They stared into each other's eyes for far too long, feeling as though an electric current was passing between them where their gazes connected, their skin touched. They stayed that way, silently staring, until Kurt's sobs had calmed.

And then all they knew was the connection of their lips. Their tongues danced together, mouths open, in a sloppy, heated, needy kiss. They both knew how wrong it was, but somehow, that only made it feel even moreright.Blaine snaked one hand into Kurt's hair, the other wrapping around the boy's waist as the younger man shifted in his lap.

"Fuck," Blaine gasped as they pulled apart for air, although neither man wanted to. But pulling apart allowed the teacher's mind to comprehend what had just happened. He pushed Kurt off of his lap and scooted back as though the boy were a red-hot flame.

"Shit, shit,shit.Fuck,Kurt, we can't do this," he babbled, panicking, refusing to meet the student's eye. He closed his eyes, focusing on his breathing, heart pounding. When a minute had passed and Kurt still hadn't said anything, he looked up.

The boy was still sat in the floor, but looking down at his hands. His hair had loosened from its perfect coif, random strands sticking in all directions, and his jacket was on the floor behind him, somehow pushed from his shoulders when they'd kissed. He didn't move, just stayed still as a statue, a particularly perfect statue, Blaine would add.

Kurt slowly looked up, gaze meeting his teacher's. His eyes were wet, tear-tracks on his cheeks, but he'd stopped crying. He stared at Blaine, eyes filled with what seemed to be guilt, a silent apology. He looked so damn vulnerable.

"Fuck it," Blaine exclaimed, launching himself back at Kurt, covering the boy's lips with his own again, this kiss lazy, sweet, just a connection of mouths between two people who were slowly coming to care deeply for one another. Blaine brushed his tongue alone Kurt's closed lips, seeking entrance. The mouth opened and the dark-haired man's tongue met that of his student's, sighing happily.

Kurt was the first to pull away. "What...what does this mean?"

Blaine sighed, linking his fingers through his student's, running his other hand through his hair. "I don't know. I would get into so much trouble for this."

"That's why I'm asking whatyouwant."

"You," the man said simply. "I want you. But we can't. I want to, Kurt, I do, but Ican't."

Kurt nodded, silent.

"Say something. Kurt, I really don't know what to do."

The student nodded. "Here's what we're going to do. You're going to take my number and text me when you know what you want to do. And until then, I won't even talk to you outside of class. And I will also go back to being a jerk in your lessons."

Blaine laughed, nodding and handing Kurt his phone so the boy could put in his number. When he'd typed the digits and his name in, the boy handed the cell back and stood up, hitching his bag higher up on his shoulder.

"I'll see you later, Mr. A," Kurt winked, walking out of the door and leaving Blaine alone, looking down at his phone.

"Satan! I need to talk to you!" Blaine yelled as he strolled through his front door that evening. He heard an exasperated sigh as Santana wrenched the door to the room she shared with Brittany, stepping out and glaring at the man. She wore a red button-up shirt, only half the buttons actually done up, and even then they were crooked. Her legs were completely bare, and her dark hair was wild. Blaine raised both eyebrows.

"This better be good, Baggins," she practically growled, slowly walking towards him.

"We could talk later...?"

"Nope, no, I'm here now. I was pretty happy where I was, about to spend someprivatetime with my girlfriend for the first time in who knows how long, and you've already ruined that, so what..." she trailed off when she was stood just over a foot away. "Your lips are seriously swollen; who've you been macking?"

Blaine swallowed. "That's what I needed to talk to you about."

"Ah. Let me put some pants on and sort out my shirt. I'll be right back," she said quickly, turning on her heel and disappearing back into her room.

She reappeared five minutes later, hair still a little disheveled, her shirt straightened and wearing a pair of black skinny jeans, Brittany following close behind, frowning, strands of blonde sticking out erratically. They joined Blaine where he was sat on the couch, head in his hands as he tried to compose his thoughts. Santana put an arm around his shoulders, squeezing comfortingly.

"What happened, Bilbo?" she asked.

"I don't even know, 'Tana," Blaine sighed, lifting his head and looking at her. His eyes were red and puffy, filled with hot tears. "One minute he was explaining his life story, opening up for what must've been the first time in years, and then...I kissed him."

Santana's eyes widened. "Wait,youkissedhim?!"

Blaine nodded, solemnly. "I don't know what came over me. I just felt like I needed to, you know?"

The Latina looked over at Brittany, who was sat in the armchair adjacent to the torn and tattered couch, and nodded before turning her attention back to the man. "I know, Blainers."

"I broke away, but he just looked sobroken. I couldn't help myself from going back in again."

Santana sighed, dropping her arm from around Blaine's shoulders and forcing him to make eye contact with her by turning his face with her palm. "If circumstances were different, and he wasn't your student-" Blaine let out a strangled groan at the reminder, dropping his head back into his hands, "-then what would you do? Honestly?"

"I'd be with him," the man replied without missing a beat. "But Ican't,Satan. You know that I can't do that."

"It's not illegal unless you get caught, Baggins. Do you really think that you could see something serious with him? I mean, he's what, nine years younger than you?"

Blaine sighed, looking back up at her. "I do, 'Tana. When I first saw him...it was like my whole future flashed through my mind, my future withhim."

Santana barely held in her laughter. "How pathetically sappy do you want to get, Blainers. Christ, you're crazy."

"Shut up."

The Latina rolled her eyes. "Anyway, what I was going to say was, if you think you could fall in love with them, then why try to stop yourself?"

"Because it's illegal, dur."

"Like I said, it's not illegal unless you get caught. If you're being serious, and my physic Mexican third eye is never wrong, and it's telling me you are, then it doesn't matter what people think. You're obviously falling for this kid-" Blaine let loose another whine, "-sorry, not a kid, but whatever. Go for it. I expect rampant rabbit sex within a few weeks, and a tape to match."

Blaine looked up, alarmed, and playfully slapped her, squealing. "Santana!"

The woman chuckled, getting up and taking Brittany's hand, pulling her up too. "Now if you wouldn't mind..." she trailed off, gesturing between them.

"Got it!" Blaine grinned, scurrying off to his bedroom like an obedient child to let the two women do...whatever the hell they do in bed.

It was around nine o'clock that night that a text came through to Kurt's phone, the cell phone vibrating on the wood of his nightstand. He reached out, grasping it and opening the message.

I know we shouldn't, but I can't stop thinking about you Kurt. I want you to do better in classes; I want you to reach your full potential. So I'm going to volunteer to tutor you. I talked to Britt a little while ago, and she's willing to help you with your dancing. And I want to take you out. We'll probably have to drive out to Columbus, but I'm pretty sure it'd be worth it. – B. Anderson.

Kurt chuckled, typing out a response.

Well, Mr. A, I have to say that those sound like offers too good to refuse. Do me a favor, and thank Brittany for me? I haven't seen her in forever. And tutoring, sure, I know I'm far behind. Thank you. And are you asking me out on a date? That seems awfully forward of you. ;) What does the B stand for? Bilbo? Baggins? I mean, you are kind of a hobbit. – Kurt.

The boy turned back to his laptop, working on a mash-up for a dance routine he'd been working on. It wasn't even two minutes later he had a response come through to his phone.

Oh, crap, not you too. My name is Blaine, okay? Santana, Brittany's girlfriend (she said its cool, by the way) and my other roommate, calls me Bilbo. And Baggins sometimes too. But she has these awful nicknames for anyone and everyone, with the exception of Britt. She's just 'Babe' or whatever, I don't know. Anyway, I'll see you in class on Monday, okay? X – Blaine.

"Did he actually put a kiss at the end of that?" Kurt wondered aloud, lips parted. "Two can play at that game."

Okay, Bilbo. See you on Monday. X – Kurt.