But I'm only human,

And I bleed when I fall down.

I'm only human,

And I crash and I break down.

Your words in my head, knives in my heart,

You build me up and then I fall apart,

‘Cause I'm only human.

            The dinner seemed a lot longer than it probably should have; Blaine checking his phone what must have been every two minutes, and Christian making those weird, quasi-condescending noises each time.

            “Blaine, if you don't put that away, I'm going to take it from you.” When Blaine glanced up, Christian's eyebrows were pulled in a firm knit across his forehead as he glared at the device in his friend's hand. “I'm serious.”

            “Sorry,” Blaine mumbled, stuffing his phone in his pocket and trying desperately to ignore the weight of it against his thigh. “I'm just—“

            “Anxious; I know.” And even though he still looked annoyed, there was softness in his voice.

            “Can we leave soon? I don't know how much longer I can sit here.” It was 6:14PM, just over an hour since Kurt's call, or lack thereof.

            “Yeah, sure. I was actually just waiting for you to finish.” Christian gave him a sort of pointed look that Blaine didn't really understand until his friend's eyes dropped down to rest on his still half-full plate of pasta.

            “I'll get it wrapped up; I don't think I can stomach any more of this.” His roommate sent him a sympathetic look before turning to call their waitress as soon as she strode past their table.

            They managed to catch an earlier train, cutting their almost forty minute original travel time in half. Christian kept sending him worried glances and always seemed to have a hand on him somewhere; when they were on the train, his fingers were at Blaine's elbow, when they were on the sidewalk they brushed his forearm. It was as if Christian was nervous he was going to collapse. And, if Blaine was being completely honest, he felt like he just might.

            The elevator felt like it took forever; a much longer forever than usual. He almost felt claustrophobic, the walls were too close, the air was too thick, and each floor must have taken a whole five minutes each. Except when Blaine checked the time the second they stepped out, it had taken barely two minutes total. He didn't know why he suddenly felt like he was suffocating, one stupid silly butt-dial from Kurt shouldn't have been that big of a deal.

            Christian unlocked the door before slipping inside and looking back at Blaine. “Are you going to be okay if I go out for a bit?” Christian's eyes traced over his body critically, as if Blaine's inner pain evolved into outer and he might just be sporting a missing arm.

            “Yeah, I'll be fine.” Blaine gave his friend a smile that he desperately hoped would console him but more likely than not came out as a wince. By the flicker that shifted across Christian's face, it was definitely a cringe.

            “As long as you're positive.” The older man stepped forward, wrapping Blaine in a firm hug he wished he knew how to thank him for before exiting their little apartment once more and pulling the door shut behind him.

            Blaine twisted to lock the deadbolt before pressing his back to the wood, sliding to sit on the floor and staring unseeingly across the still-dark room. He should be fine. He should be fine. He should be fine. There was nothing wrong at all, he was fine; Kurt loved him and he loved Kurt and he was fine.

            Until he wasn't. Blaine curled his arms around his legs, pulling his thighs tight against his chest and sucking in heaving breaths as he tried to force himself to breathe. He let out a choked sob, pressing his forehead into his knees as he shook and fought to get himself under control because he was fine.

            And then his phone rang, Teenage Dream chiming from his pocket. Blaine twisted just enough to fish it out of his pants, wiping furiously at his eyes and sniffing pitifully because Kurt called him back and he was fine.

            “Hello? Blaine? Is everything alright?” No.

            “Hi, I uh—yeah. Why?” He was lying again. He was lying to his boyfriend after he was pretty sure he'd promised not to hide things any more. Or maybe that was a promise to himself. Either way he was failing.

            “The voicemail you left me. You didn't sound okay. Something about your mom?” Blaine pinched his lips together, trying not to chew the inside of his cheek because he didn't remember. That must have been what he did the other night because he couldn't remember. Dammit.

            “Fuck. I didn't even know I called you. Shit.” He wanted to hit his head off the door and call himself pathetic, stupid names for the rest of the night because he was an absolute idiot. And he never wanted to get drunk again.

            “What's going on? If you're in trouble, you can tell me. You can tell me anything, Blaine, I want to help you.” Blaine's eyes filled up again and he struggled to swallow around the lump clogging his throat because he was in trouble and he wasn't fine and Kurt wanted to help him. He wanted to be there and look after him. He'd made a sword.

            “It's just—“ Blaine sniffed, lifting a hand to rub at his nose, “—my mom showed up yesterday out of nowhere.” That was the problem. He wasn't fine, he was never fine. She showed up and knocked him down. He tried to center his struggles around Kurt when he wasn't even involved.

            “What?! The mom-that-walked-out-on-you mom?” Did that ever sting. “Oh my God what did she say?”

            “No, the mom that I mysteriously adopted overnight.” He knew it wasn't the time to make a joke but he didn't know how else to handle it. Blaine's eyes filled up again and he rubbed at them once more because he wasn't supposed to cry over something so stupid, even though the logical half of his brain told him that it wasn't stupid. “Yes, that mom. She just appeared and said she was sorry and tried to pretend like nothing happened and I don't know what to do, Kurt.” His voice broke at the end and Blaine wanted to stab himself in the throat.

            “Tell her to go fuck herself. She doesn't deserve you, Blaine.” The way Kurt said his name was just so soft, so careful and loving that made him wanted to cry all over again. “You can't just show up on your son's doorstep fifteen years too late and expect him to forgive you.”

            And he was right, he was so, so right. “She's my mom....” Blaine swiped his sleeve across his cheek. He didn't know why he was defending her; he didn't know what he owed her.

            “She left you alone with your abusive father.”

            “But she came back.... Doesn't that mean something? I don't know what to do.” Because maybe if he repeated it enough times Kurt would let him give up and everything would be over.

            Instead his boyfriend sighed, breath crackling through the phone and Blaine squeezed his eyes shut. “If you can find it in you to forgive her, then do so. And if you can't, hopefully that'll teach her a lesson.”

            “I'm just really scared,” Blaine whispered.

            “She can't hurt you. Not anymore.” He wanted so badly to believe him. So, so badly.

            “But she's going to.” She was. She was because that was the only way they were going to get through this.

            “I won't let her, Blaine. I won't let anyone hurt you.” Blaine wanted Kurt's arms around him; he wanted to cry until he couldn't because Kurt would keep him safe.

            “I'm so sorry that I drunk-dialed you. I love you so much, Kurt. Please always remember that.” He didn't know why he was trying to convince him, he didn't know why he was going off about this now because Kurt wasn't going anywhere.

            “I don't care about that. I just wanted to make sure you're okay. I love you, too.”

            Blaine nodded, chewing his lower lip before realizing that Kurt couldn't see him. “I'm okay, I think. I better go, or let you go. I'm sure you're busy. I'm sorry.” He should probably get himself off the floor at some point.

            “Rachel just woke up. I—are you positive, Blaine? I can come over if you need me to—“

            Blaine cut him off with a cough, sniffling feebly. “Yeah, yeah, I'm um—I'm fine.”

            “I'm coming over and you can't stop me. I'll be okay, alright? Just hold on.” He was panicking now. He couldn't have Kurt come over. He couldn't come over and see Blaine curled up in his doorway with a snot covered sleeve and tear stained cheeks. Absolutely not.

            “Don't! Don't, please don't. I don't want you to see this. I don't need you to come over.” He did. He so did and he didn't know why he was denying it but it just felt like something he had to do.

            “Blaine Devon Anderson, I've seen you at your worst and your best, and both of them only make me love you more. I want to help. I don't care about anything else. I'll be there in an hour, alright?” He could already hear Kurt moving around.

            “I said I'm fine. I'm really fine.” Again, maybe if he said it enough times.

            “Better leave the door unlocked. Love you.”

            “Kurt!” And then his boyfriend hung up. Blaine dropped his phone, scrambling to push himself to his feet and stumbling down the hallway toward the bathroom. He partially blamed himself for not forcing Kurt not to come, except he knew that he would have anyways because there was nothing that stood between Kurt Hummel and what he thought was the right thing to do.

            Blaine caught himself on the handle, wrenching the door open and slamming it behind him without even turning on the light. He sucked in a slow breath, fingers clenching around the edge of the counter in the dark as he struggled to stop shaking.

            “Blaine?” Kurt's voice echoed through the house warily, he could hear the light footsteps of his boyfriend on the stairs and Blaine almost climbed into the bathtub just to isolate himself from the rest of the room because this wasn't supposed to happen. Kurt wasn't supposed to see him crying and broken because he was supposed to be strong for them both; one little incident at school shouldn't have thrown him over the edge because he'd taken so much worse and he was fine. Wasn't he?

            Blaine's back dug into the edge of the tub as he stared at the door. He should have left the light off. He should have left it off so that Kurt wouldn't find him and he would just be able to cry by himself because it was better that way.

            He realized too late that he didn't lock the door. Kurt's slender fingers appeared around the edge as he pushed it open, followed by his hair and then a worried, pinched expression that just made Blaine want to cry more.

            “Are you okay?” His boyfriend slipped inside the little room, shutting the door behind him. Blaine knew that Kurt was already fully aware he wasn't okay. He just stared up at his boyfriend, worrying his lip between his teeth and trying desperately to swallow. He couldn't.

            Kurt inched his way across the room, dropping to his knees to sit in front of Blaine and resting tentative fingers on the shorter man's raised knees. “Honey, what happened?” And it was just so stupid, he was so stupid.

            “Nothing,” Blaine choked out, hands clenching around the hem of his shirt and tugging as if that would be the thing to keep him grounded. “It was nothing. It is nothing.” Because if he repeated it enough, it would make sense.

            Kurt just raised an eyebrow, shuffling ever closer and leaning his chin on Blaine's knees. “You're a shitty liar. Please tell me what happened?”

            And it was just so stupid that he didn't think he could. It happened in the choir room; everyone was settling down into their seats, Blaine made an offhand comment to Santana who turned around and snapped at him. It wasn't the yelling and the name calling that drove it home, though. Kurt had walked in the second Blaine ran out and didn't have the time to process and chase him. But now here they were.

            “It's okay. I'm okay. I don't want to add anything else to your plate. You have enough to deal with. I'm fine.”  Blaine dropped his eyes to the tile, fighting to look anywhere but at his boyfriend.

            One of Kurt's fingers found the bottom of his chin, forcing his face up. “Nothing you confess could make me love you less.” And the dam broke.

            What only felt like ten minutes must have actually been an hour because he heard the front door open. Blaine wiped at his eyes, choking on another sob that managed to force its way out anyways. He slid down the wall, scooting to press his back to the edge of the tub because maybe the feeling of it digging into his spine would keep him from floating into space.

            Blaine never turned the light on, figuring that it was a lot easier to deal with things in the dark because it was. He didn't have to see and it was one less thing to worry about. There was a soft tap on the door, the tentative wrap of a single knuckle and then it was opening and no, no he wasn't ready for this. Blaine buried his face in his knees, wrapping an arm around his head to shield his eyes from both the light and Kurt.

            And then he was right in Blaine's space, warm familiar arms circling his body and tugging him against a chest that felt like home. “I'm so sorry she hurt you, B. I'm so sorry.”

            Blaine just shook his head. “I just don't know what to do. She left me. She left me by myself with him.” He felt like if he spoke any louder, if he even unlocked his teeth, he would shatter.

            “It's over now. It's over and they can't hurt you anymore. I'm here.” He wanted to believe him. He wanted so badly to just let everything else go and pretend that Kurt was the only person in the whole world except he wasn't.

             “She left me. She just left me.” He didn't know what else to say. He knew he was rambling and the words didn't even really hurt anymore. They were just a fact. “I was finally getting over it and she came back. Why did she have to come back?”

             Kurt went silent momentarily before gripping his shoulders and spinning to pull him face-to-face. Kurt's eyes seemed to go on forever; oceanic pools that held everything he needed and everything he could ever look forward to. This was his forever. “You have got to stop holding onto the past.” He was holding on, wasn't he? That's what he was used to. “All it's doing is ruining your future and I won't let that happen. She did what she did and there's nothing we can do to change it. Now you have to decide whether or not you're going to forgive her.” But he didn't know what he wanted to do. He didn't know if he wanted to forgive her and move on, maybe start a new, healthy relationship with his mother. Or if he just wanted to let go of the past.

             “I don't know,” he whispered, blinking against the tears that gathered at the edges of his vision and swallowing down the lump that seemed ever-present in his throat.

             “I don't need you to know, I need you to think.” Kurt sounded so absolutely sure of himself; like he read the script before the show and already knew all the lines. It gave Blaine hope, something he forgot the feeling of.

             He twisted his fingers into the front of Kurt's shirt (soaked; and if it wasn't love that the older man sacrificed an article of clothing, Blaine didn't know what was) and stared down at them. “I guess I need to talk to her. But I don't know if I can.”

              “I'll be right with you every step of the way. I'm here to stay, through thick and thin.” What Blaine would give to throw himself into those words.

             “But what if she doesn't want to talk to me? I kind of…snapped at her.” He dragged a hand over his face, squeezing his eyes shut momentarily before blinking back up at his boyfriend.

             Kurt gave him a smile that must have held the moon. “She didn't come all this way for nothing. She must've expected that you'd be mad—furious. Whatever you said was justified. You have to understand that.” One of Kurt's hands found his face, the pads of his fingers sweeping along the hinge of his jaw as the other brushed off a tear Blaine didn't realize had fallen and pressing a warm, tender kiss to his mouth. “Now can we please get up off the floor? It's been a long day and my back is killing me.”

             Blaine released a puff of air that came out as a sort of choked off giggle. “Yeah. Yeah, we should get off the floor.” Kurt got to his feet, grasping Blaine's hands and pulling him up as well before dropping one and tugging Blaine out of the still-dark bathroom and out to the living room where he'd never turned on a light to begin with.

             Blaine released Kurt's fingers, circling the island to dig in the breadbox. “Toast?” Kurt nodded as he took a seat on one of the stools. “So, what made your day particularly long?” He twisted back toward the toaster, slipping in a few pieces for the both of them.

             “Well…Remember David Karofsky?” Kurt did that suspense-pause that he had a knack for doing without realizing. “He's kind of a stripper now. And um…He has HIV.” Blaine was on his way to putting the bag away which was of course useless when it hit the floor with a thump.

             “Wait, what?! When were you talking to Karofsky and how is he a stripper, and HIV? What?” If he didn't think his mother just reappearing was enough, this would definitely spice up his life.

              Kurt gave an awkward chuckle. “He works at the club Santana got a job at. I kind of lured him into meeting with me. I didn't know it would turn out like…that.”

             “Jeez, who would've known, huh?”

             “I know. And that's not the only surprise I discovered today.”

             Blaine made a noise in the back of his throat, twisting to lean his elbows against the island and watching his boyfriend from under his lashes. “Do tell. I need all the Hummel gossip.”

             Something flickered over Kurt's face, like a little heat wave of affection. “Not sure how juicy this one is. Don't tell Christian,” the taller man dropped his voice to a stage-whisper, stretching over the distance between them, “but Rachel's pregnant.”

             Blaine's mouth popped open.

             “What!?” And that voice was definitely not his.