Blaine was absolutely determined to be the perfect houseguest.

He never left his things in the living room or kitchen. He happily agreed to watch whatever anyone else wanted on TV. He did his own laundry. He helped Carole cook dinner on the days he was home, and loaded the dishwasher when he worked late. He made pleasant conversation with everyone. Other than meals at home, he bought everything he needed with his own money, out of his paycheck.

He hid his emotions, too, when anyone else was around. His performances at Six Flags did not suffer one bit. He always slipped into that perfect “teen rock star” character flawlessly when he was on stage. And his everyday life was no less a performance. Nobody would see, Blaine insisted. Nobody would see anything but his happy, perfect, normal self. Not Burt and Carole and Finn. Not his Dalton friends, who he saw from time to time over the summer. Not Kurt’s friends either. Blaine was perfect. Blaine had no problems. Blaine was lovable.

Only Kurt saw his grief, his anguish, his self-doubt. Only at night, safely behind the closed door of Kurt’s room, hidden under the covers of his bed. Only then would Blaine cry. Kurt would hold him tight in his arms, or pin him gently to the bed and cover his body in sweet caresses and kisses, refusing anything from Blaine in return, whispering soothing words into his ear, but still Blaine couldn’t feel everything rushing through him the way he had before. Somehow, unbelievably to Blaine but undeniably true, Kurt loved him despite it all.

People kept trying to get him to talk, but he wouldn’t. 

Cooper called, of course. “I’m so sorry, little brother. The production schedule is so tight, there’s no way I can get back to Ohio for months. If there’s anything I can do to help, just send me a text, anytime, day or night, I’ll call you right back as soon as I get it. You going to be okay?” Blaine said he was fine.

He spent an afternoon at Rachel’s house with her and Mercedes and came back full of gossip and with his toenails painted each a different color, but he hadn’t said a word about himself the entire time.

Wes and David took him out for pizza and they spent the whole time talking about what songs the Warblers should sing for sectionals next year. Blaine agreed to do all the solos, even though he already knew he wouldn’t be back at Dalton. His father had forwarded him the letter from the administrative office, without even including a personal note: “Tuition is past due. Blaine Anderson will not be permitted to register for classes until it is paid.” Blaine had gone ahead and filled out the enrollment forms for McKinley High, mailing them back to his father for a signature, again without any note. He didn’t tell Wes and David. That one, he hadn’t even told Kurt yet.

And then one day, out of the blue, he got a phone call from Quinn. She’d never talked to Blaine before, never even really paid Kurt any attention. But she wanted to meet for coffee, and Blaine agreed.

“I know exactly what you’re going through,” she told him across the table at The Lima Bean.

Blaine’s expression turned from confusion to recognition as he dredged up the memory. Kurt had told him Quinn’s story long ago, it had all happened before they’d even met. Quinn had gotten pregnant, and her parents had kicked her out of the house, and she’d lived with her boyfriend for a while—with Finn, oh my god, with Carole!—and then with some other friends … wow, okay, maybe she does know what I’m going through.

“Yeah, I figured you must have heard the story,” Quinn said with a bitter little laugh. “Nothing stays a secret in high school.”

“I’m sorry,” Blaine said. “It must have been really difficult for you. But you’re back living with your mother now, aren’t you?”

Quinn nodded. “My parents got divorced, and my mom took me back in. But my dad … I haven’t talked to him since the day he kicked me out, a year and a half ago. He’s … I tried so hard to be perfect in every way, I kept my grades up, got back on the Cheerios, was this close to being Prom Queen—oh, uh, sorry,” Blaine shook his head and smiled. “I got as close to perfect as I could, but my daddy still doesn’t love me.” Quinn let out a sob that was much too loud for the middle of a coffee shop, and a few heads turned.

“Shhhh,” Blaine took her hand and tried to comfort her.

“My daddy doesn’t love me,” Quinn wailed, collapsing her head onto the table in a fit of sobs.

“Uh … okay, uh, Quinn? Quinn?” Blaine looked around, frantically. “Everyone is staring at us. Quinn? Come on, let’s … let’s get out of here. Someplace more private, come on.” He pulled her out of the coffee shop, trying to ignore all the eyes on them.

*   *   *

Kurt fell into a fit of hysterical laughter when Blaine told him the story that night as they went to bed. “Oh my god,” he gasped. “I wish I had pictures! You cuddling Quinn in the backseat of your car! That is just … god!”

“It wasn’t cuddling,” Blaine said indignantly. “It was comforting. And this is serious, come on, Kurt.”

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” Kurt said, wiping moisture from his eyes. “No, really, I mean, I feel sorry for her, it’s just… it’s just too funny.” He bit his lip and took a few breaths.

“I never really thought about her as someone who needs help,” Blaine said. “She always seemed so … so …”

“Perfect?” Kurt suggested.

“Yeah,” Blaine said. “But her father still hates her.”

Kurt spooned up behind Blaine and wrapped his arm around his waist. “Your parents don’t matter,” he said. “Maybe they’ll never come around, but everyone else in your life cares about you so much.”

Blaine closed his eyes. My parents will never love me again. He didn’t say a word.

*   *   *

“Carole! Help! Please!” Kurt shouted as he flung the front door open. Finn was carrying Blaine in his arms like a baby, passed out drunk at Puck’s end-of-summer party.

Carole and Burt both came running. “Put him on the couch. Let me look at him. Alcohol? Anything else? You have to tell me the truth here.”

“Just alcohol. Lots of it. I swear, nothing else.” Kurt turned from Carole and looked despairingly at his father. “I tried everything to stop him. Finn tried, too. I tried to get him to leave. He wouldn’t listen to me. He just kept drinking, way too much, too fast, I didn’t know what to do.”

By now, Blaine was mumbling incoherently. “He doesn’t need the emergency room, at least not right now,” Carole said. “I’ll sit up with him, make sure he doesn’t get any worse.”

“I can do it,” Kurt said.

“No, Kurt. I’m the one with medical training. And you need a day off. Go to bed.” Her tone of voice allowed no argument.

Blankets. A wastebasket lined with a plastic bag. Glass of water. A damp washcloth. Carole settled into a chair next to the couch as soon as everything was assembled. She began to stroke Blaine’s hair, this beautiful, abandoned boy. So sweet, so deserving, surrounded by so many people who care about him, why can’t he see it?

She looked up and found Burt staring at the two of them. “He needs parents, hon. This is our chance, if we want to take it. He won’t be able to keep us out the way he’s been doing.”

Burt nodded, then sighed. “I have to talk to Kurt.”

*   *   *

Kurt wasn’t sure why his father had come to his room. But as soon as he showed up and sat down on the desk chair, Kurt broke down.

“Dad, I can’t do this any more.” He was crying. “I’m not strong enough. It’s not helping, I’m not making him any better. Look at him, he’s getting worse.”

Why did I put so much pressure on him? Burt thought. “Kurt, you’ve done everything right. None of us had any idea that it would be this bad with his parents. He showed up here, we thought it would be a few days, we’d give him some support and a place to stay and then they’d work things out. I had no idea they’d cut him off completely. We all got into a lot more than we bargained for. But you, I see what you’re doing for him, and I’m so proud of you.” He pressed his hands against his eyes for a moment. “I think maybe he’s hit bottom tonight. Maybe he can finally start to rebuild. You can help him do that. We all can.”

“It’s too hard,” Kurt said through his tears. “I can’t keep this up much longer, giving and giving and getting nothing back from him.”

“You can’t do it by yourself, no matter how hard you try.” Burt said. “He needs parents, and that’s not you. Kurt … I think I can help him, but if I do, he’s going to be living here for a long time. Is that okay with you? Are you … is that what you want?” If you say no, I have no friggin’ clue what I’m going to do.

Kurt nodded. “Yeah. Yeah, I can’t abandon him. No matter how hard it is, I still love him.  I … honestly, I love that he’s always here now.”

“If he’s living here and you break up with him—”

“I won’t. Never.” Burt raised an eyebrow at that. 

“This is going to sound a little strange,” Burt said, “but you need to tell me what happened with Blaine’s parents the night he got kicked out.” 

“Why?” Kurt wasn’t defensive, just surprised.

“Because tomorrow I am going to have to tell him that his drinking is unacceptable,” Burt said. “And the last time someone told him something like that… I don’t want to sound like his father, even a little bit, even by accident.”

“There’s no way you could ever sound like his father,” Kurt said. “Not even by accident.”

“Tell me anyway. With as much detail as you know.”

Whore????? I’ll kill the man if I ever meet him.

*   *   *

Blaine came into full consciousness just in time to realize that his vomit was all over the floor. “Oh god. I’m sorry, I’m so sorry, I’ll clean it up, let me—”

“Don’t even try to move,” Carole said, handing him a glass of water and then running off to grab paper towels and cleaning fluid. “And anyway, it doesn’t bother me. I clean messes much worse than this at least three times a day at the hospital.”

Blaine covered his face with his hands until the mess was gone. “This is so humiliating. I’m such an idiot. Oh god, I’m so sorry. I was trying so hard, and now I’ve gone and messed everything up.” He paused. “Why are you being so nice to me? You wouldn’t be this nice if Finn or Kurt passed out at a party and then puked all over the living room floor.”

“Because, sweetie,” Carole said, “I know a cry for help when I see one.” She pushed a loose strand of Blaine’s hair back behind his ear. “And when you cry for help, the only thing I’m going to do is help. Do you want to talk?”

“Not yet. I’m just … I feel like crap. Sorry. Sorry.”

“Get some more rest, then, and when you wake up again I’ll make you some toast.” She smiled at him. “Take your time. I’ll be right here if you need anything.” 

When Blaine’s eyes opened for the second time, Carole was sitting in an armchair near the foot of the couch, reading a novel. Blaine’s head was pounding, but he kept quiet and took a moment to think. The scene was so unfamiliar. He had no memories of his own mother sitting by his bedside while he was sick, even as a small child. Instead, his memories were of her flitting through the room apologetically, dressed to the nines, saying something like, “It’s so important for your father’s career that we be seen at this charity ball tonight. Cooper will look after you. You understand, don’t you, dear?”

Kurt’s face appeared suddenly, brow furrowed with concern. He leaned over the back of the couch and pressed a kiss to Blaine’s forehead. “You’re awake,” he said. “How are you feeling?”

“Terrible,” Blaine groaned. He stared up at Kurt with a sudden realization. Cooper had seemed so grown-up when Blaine was in elementary school, but really he’d been the age Blaine was now, Kurt’s age, or even younger. So young to take on so much responsibility. So old for his years, caring for Blaine like that. Kurt... so much…

“Get on upstairs, Kurt, don’t pester him,” Carole scolded. Kurt scampered off, much to Blaine’s astonishment. “Something to eat, hon?” Carole asked Blaine. She moved her chair closer toward him.

Blaine shook his head vigorously, then winced from the wave of pain that caused. Carole handed him two Tylenol and a glass of water. “Drink the whole thing.”

This is how it should have been, Blaine thought, and tears filled his eyes. Carole took his right hand in both of hers and Blaine cried, for all the times his mother had turned away from him. Carole held his hand, silently, until he cried himself back to sleep.

*   *   *

It was not until the following day that Burt and Blaine sat down together at the kitchen table. Burt took a deep breath. No demands, he reminded himself. 

“Drinking won’t help you, Blaine.” The boy wouldn’t meet Burt’s gaze. “You have pain, lots of it, I know, you don’t hide it as well as you think. But this is not helping. You can drown it out for a night, but it comes back worse than ever, doesn’t it? In the long run, much worse than before. I know what it’s like to lose someone who is important to you.” Blaine looked up, pain clearly evident in his eyes.

“I just don’t know how to feel better,” Blaine said.

“Your parents are gone, Blaine,” Burt said. “It’s over. They’re not letting you back in any time soon. Probably not ever. You need to let go of them. You can’t change it.” 

Blaine was blinking back tears. Again. “I know,” he whispered. “I should … I should start looking for somewhere more permanent to live.”

“Are you out of your mind?” Burt asked. “You think you don’t have a family? You think you don’t have a home? Open your eyes, Blaine. You’re home already.”

“I … you don’t have to …”

“I want to. We all want you here. You belong here.”

Blaine nodded, just barely managing to keep the tears away. Burt reached across the table and took his hand. My son. He didn’t speak, but he tried to will the words into Blaine’s head.

After a long pause, Blaine spoke again, and Burt immediately dropped his hand, guy instincts kicking in. “I was thinking, maybe I could work at the tire shop. The Six Flags job is over and I’ll have the weekends free, I could work, if you want me to…”

“Perfect,” Burt should have thought of this himself. “I can never find enough guys for the Sunday shift. That okay with you? Ten bucks an hour to start, it’s what I pay everyone.”

“Oh, I thought,” Blaine paused. “I thought I would work for free. Instead of paying rent?”

Burt rolled his eyes. “Have you listened to a word I’ve been saying? You’re welcome here as long as you want to stay. Seriously. You’ll pay the same rent as Kurt and Finn. Zero. But work anyway. For spending money.” For spending time.

“I … thank you. Okay.” Is this really happening to me? Blaine couldn’t believe it. He’s acting like … like a father. Blaine moved to stand up.

“Blaine,” Burt said. “No more drinking, okay?”

Blaine looked straight at Burt. “I promise.” He stood up. “I need to go for a walk,” he said absentmindedly. “Clear my head. Think.” But he turned around at the front door. “Finn?” he called up the stairs.

“Yeah?”

“Want to go down to the park and throw a football around or something?”

“Yeah, sure, be right down.”

Kurt stood on the landing, baffled, as Finn hustled down the stairs. Blaine looked up at his boyfriend, touched his hand to his lips, and then stretched his arm out toward Kurt. And then he was out the door.

Kurt walked down the stairs. “Dad? What did you say to him?”

“The same thing you’ve been saying to him every day. I think he just needed to hear it from a second person to believe it.” 

*   *   *

That night, Blaine caught Kurt’s mouth, and his kiss was equal parts gentle and passionate, controlled, with no hint of desperation. Kurt opened his eyes wide as Blaine rolled on top, pushing Kurt from his side to his back, and kissed him again, the same way, one hand now cupping Kurt’s face.

“Kurt, you are so good to me.” Blaine gazed down at him, his eyes no longer desperate but instead bright, shining. “Thank you so much. Thank you, thank you, I love you, god, I love you.”

This was different. This was too different. “Blaine, what’s gotten into you?” Kurt asked. “You’re so … you look happy. I haven’t seen you happy in a very long time.”

“I realized something,” Blaine said, resting his elbow on the bed and propping his head up on his hand. “Yeah, my parents abandoned me, and that’s crappy, and that’s going to be crappy for the rest of my life. But the people who are most important to me … the person who is most important to me … you embraced me and surrounded me with nothing but love, and so did your parents and everyone else. And it’s my choice how to move forward from here. It’s my choice whether to focus on how impossible it is to please my parents, or on all the love and happiness in my life. I choose happiness.”

“I only want you to be happy,” Kurt said. “I’ve been trying so hard to be strong for you and to show you how much I love you, every moment, trying to make you happy.”

“I know, Kurt. I know it’s been hard for you, too. I know you’re hurting.”

“You can’t be all better, not this fast, people don’t get magically better like this in real life,” Kurt said.

“No, I’m not all better,” Blaine said. “But I’m starting to be. I have … the foundation of it, I guess. It’ll take a long time, that’s for sure. I’ll probably never be exactly the same as I was, you know, life changes you, right?”

“It changes us all,” Kurt said.

“Let me do this for you tonight.” Blaine looked at Kurt with a love, a protectiveness, that conjured up for Kurt all the images and all the intensity of their beautiful first time together. He knows, Kurt thought. He knows what I’ve been doing all those nights for him. Kurt couldn’t help nodding his assent, despite his lingering worries.

Blaine’s kisses moved in a line down Kurt’s neck, his hands firm and confident on Kurt’s body. And Kurt finally let go of himself, just a little bit, but for the first time since before. “Blaine,” he gasped.

By the time Blaine’s mouth was on his stomach, long minutes later, Kurt had melted completely, lost the iron grip that had been holding his emotions together for so long, lost the worries, lost all control. “Blaine. Oh god, you’re back, I missed you so much. Blaine …”

“Hush,” the curly-haired boy said gently. And this time, afterward, it was Blaine who held a weeping, relieved Kurt in his arms and whispered half-connected words to him: so strong and so gentle and perfect and god, thank you and saved me and I’m here and I love you, always, always, forever, god, forever. And the sleep that took them both was peace and joy.

*   *   *

Kurt came slowly into consciousness on the first truly cold morning of October. He kept his eyes closed, breathing in the amazingness of waking up beside his boyfriend. It was familiar now, comfortable after three months, but still unbelievably wonderful every time. He wasn’t too cold, except for the parts of him which were neither under the blankets nor touching Blaine, so that amounted to mostly the back of his neck and one hand. The cold was a good thing, he could wear one of his beloved scarves to school today, and he would put Blaine in that new knit sweater with the little stripes on the collar. He always picked out Blaine’s clothes. “Go for it, I wear them mostly for your enjoyment anyway,” Blaine had said when Kurt apologized for being so bossy. Kurt had raised an eyebrow. “Babe, if that were true, you’d go around naked all day.” And Blaine had giggled. There was a time, back in August, when he thought Blaine might never even smile again, let alone giggle and laugh and joke. Thank god that was over, the grief was safely pushed to the dim background most of the time.

The cold was getting to be a bit too much now, so Kurt shifted himself closer to Blaine. Possible? Always somehow. He felt his boyfriend stir beside him, and the two of them blinked open their eyes at the same time and smiled. “Hey.” “Hey yourself.” “Do I have to get up now?” “Not yet, love, it’s still early.” They held each other for a few moments, quiet and still, until Blaine asked, “What are you thinking about, Kurt? You look like deep thoughts.”

Kurt smiled again. How did Blaine always know? “Do you remember, before we ever had sex, how we would talk about whether we were ready yet? About how much we loved each other? I did love you then, but it was so … shallow. I thought I loved you as much as anyone ever could love a person, but that turned out to be crazy wrong, I love you a thousand times more now. God, we were so … I want to say young, but it was less than six months ago. Feels like years and years. We were so naïve and stupid.”

“We were naïve,” Blaine said, “But we weren’t stupid. We were just starting. We loved each other as much as we could at the time.” He stopped to consider. “I think love gets bigger when things happen to us together. When we get through a hard time. When we have sex. When we share something special, anything special. And, well, we’ve kind of been through a lot.”

“Ten years from now, will we look back at today and think about how little we loved each other?”

Blaine put his hand on Kurt’s chin and tilted his head so they could look directly in each other’s eyes. “I really hope so.”

Kurt hadn’t realized the implications of his throwaway comment until Blaine answered, but he embraced them immediately. “So do I, Blaine. So do I.”

And when they kissed, they found a little more love than they’d had a moment ago.