'You know, I think that gel-abusing, private-schooled sprout has taken a shine to you,' Officer Sylvester commented, as she accompanied Kurt out of the meeting hall. His fellow students had also taken notice.

'Hey Hummel, where's that little Dalton bitch of yours? I haven't seen him around today,' Noah Puckerman had remarked one afternoon during free time.

'Don't call him that.'

'Why? Haven't taken him up the ass yet?'

Kurt could have counteracted with I plan to, but he was too incensed at Noah's comments to form a quick-witted response.

'Shut up, Puckerman,' he hissed.

'Make me.'

Kurt swiftly reached down and grabbed the other boy's crotch. Noah yelped and ran off, flying across to the other side of the exercise yard. Kurt felt so disgusted by his actions that he washed his hands ten times afterwards.

He had been surprised at how comfortable Blaine had become around him, brushing off Kurt's attempts at flirting with him, accepting it as something of Kurt's nature. But Kurt had ceased making snide remarks towards him, because he didn't feel the need to use them anymore. He no longer wanted to give the other boy a reason to leave.

There were aspects of McKinley that Kurt was ashamed of, such as what had occurred on Monday afternoon, halfway through visiting time. While Kurt was telling Blaine about the disgusting habits of his fellow students, a few angry shouts began from the opposite end of the hallway. A fight had broken out between two students from different tables; the officers left their posts and ran towards the scuffle as other McKinley boys joined in. Around them, family members hurried out of the hall. Kurt had jumped out of his seat, ready to join the fight, but stopped as he saw that Blaine had not left the table.

'You'd better go - this could get ugly,' Kurt had told him, fearing the other boy's safety. He saw Blaine's eyes go wide in alarm before Kurt lost sight of him in the fray. He couldn't decipher the meaning behind them – did he fear for his own safety or Kurt's? Kurt had to join the fight, otherwise he knew that insults like Hummel was too piss-weak for a punch-on would be flying around him for days.

The boy had turned out to be an unlikely ally, even a friend. Kurt found it remarkable that Blaine was still visiting him at McKinley of all places, despite being the place where he had been taken advantage of by Kurt previously. Even more remarkable was that it was he who had initiated the stories about Dalton and his daily life and listened to him when Kurt told him fragments of his.

And there was the problem; Blaine hadn't returned the watch to him. Kurt knew that the other boy would be keeping it safe in his blazer pocket. But Kurt had the feeling that there was something that remained unspoken between them, something that needed to be said. Kurt had held back from telling him, and Blaine no longer pushed him. But as a friend, Kurt thought he had the right to know.

He deserves that much for putting up with me.

He was jolted back into the choir room by Rachel Berry, who had leapt out of her seat and was now glaring at Mr Schuester, a look of fury etched on her face.

'WHAT DO YOU MEAN I DON'T GET A FUCKING SOLO?' she screamed, as Officer Beiste quickly left her post. 'I'VE GOT THE BEST VOICE IN THIS GODDAMN SCHOOL, I DESERVE A FUCKING SOLO!'

'Rachel, calm-'

'NO, I WILL NOT CALM DOWN!' Rachel continued, as Officer Beiste began pulling her towards the door. Another officer from the outside corridor joined in to help. 'SEE THIS?' She struggled against the officers as she tried to point to the pendant hanging on a chain around her neck, but the officers held her back. 'IT'S A STAR…I AM A STAR, MR SCHUE - I AM A FUCKING STAR!' Both officers managed to push her into the corridor where her screams became muffled by the door slamming shut behind them.

Mr Schuester's voice cut through the silence of the classroom.

'Okay - let's start again,' he said, scratching the side of his temple.

Kurt sighed; he knew he had no other choice. Even if it did cost him the other boy's friendship.

…

'Hi Kurt!'

Blaine's warm greeting on seeing Kurt the following day did nothing to allay Kurt's fears. Blaine had both hands in his lap and he was shifting slightly in his seat with a little smile on his face, as if he had something to tell Kurt that couldn't wait. Kurt took a seat opposite, frowning slightly; Blaine had an expression that reminded him of an excited puppy.

'I brought you a little something,' Blaine said, and he slid something square across the table to Kurt. It was a black folder that looked familiar to the one Kurt had owned previously. 'Open it up.'

Kurt obliged, and he felt his heart sink to the pit of his stomach. It was an exact replica of his confiscated music folder, complete with sheet music of all the musicals and singers that Kurt had previously memorized.

'There's some in there from Wicked; they were the ones you were learning last, right?' Blaine continued, his eyes flicking between Kurt and the folder. 'I know you said they were hard to read because they had graffiti all over them, so I got you some fresh copies.'

Kurt didn't know what to say; his voice had been rendered speechless by Blaine's kindness. But Kurt had to stick to his resolve, even if Blaine had made it harder for him to do so. Kurt took a deep breath and closed the folder.

'Blaine, I think you need to know the reason why I am at McKinley.'

He saw the smile disappear off the other boy's face, and a flicker of surprise in his hazel eyes; Kurt realized it had been the first time he had called Blaine by his name. Then he saw Blaine look down into his lap, fiddling around with his blazer. He pulled out Kurt's watch and slid it across the table, edging it closer to him with his fingers. Kurt paused before picking it up, letting the brown leather band slide between his fingers. He could feel Blaine's eyes on him, waiting.

He was unable return Blaine's gaze, so instead he fixed his eyes on the window behind him. The sun that had previously been concealed by the clouds had started to show itself. It seemed like a lovely afternoon to spend outside. Kurt placed the watch back down on the table and began his story.

'I grew up with my father. My mother died when I was young and so it was just him and I. I still like to keep her memory around with me so I'll never forget her.' His eyes flickered down to the watch briefly.

'My dad accepted me as I was – I remember him having tea parties with me to cheer me up when I was having a bad day, because he knew how much I liked them. And when I came out over a year ago, well, he accepted that, too. I wish I could say the same for public school.'

He paused to look over at Blaine. Blaine still had his hands resting in his lap, his head slightly to one side, listening patiently. Kurt continued.

'I always knew I was kind of different. High school gave me an opportunity to show off that side of me. You could say I was a triple-threat: I was a member of the school's glee club, fashion-savvy and gay. I was na�ve in thinking people would be okay with that because my father didn't seem to find anything wrong with me. But there was a group of jocks at the school who decided to make it their mission to prove to me that I was beneath them. There was one jock in particular: Dave Karofsky. He made my life a living hell.'

Kurt paused again to look over at Blaine; Blaine gave him a silent nod, as if he didn't want to interrupt the flow of Kurt's account.

'They would pass by in the corridors and swear at me, as if I had somehow offended them by being in their line of sight. They would throw food at me during lunchtime, shove me into lockers when the teachers weren't around and when they were, they gave them a warning but didn't try to stop it. The other students would stand by doing nothing, some even laughing along with them. They threw me into the dumpster a few times, like I was a piece of garbage. Around this time, my father had a heart attack so I was going between the hospital and school, and I was tired.'

'So I thought if I kept my head down, studied hard and tried not to draw attention to myself, they would stop. But things became worse. Dave, well he…became more violent. I would get bruises every time he shoved me into the lockers. Once he was trying to get my attention and I ignored him, so he threw a textbook at me and it hit me in the eye; I covered it up with makeup so my father wouldn't see. I didn't want to be the cause of his next heart attack.'

Kurt looked down at his fingers and slowly began to rub one of his nails in a circular motion.

'Then one afternoon, I had just returned from the sick bay and went to my locker to collect my things. Everyone else was in class, or so I'd thought. Dave was in the corridor, having just come back from lunchtime football practice. He confronted me and knocked my books out of my hand. Then he swore at me and said something horrible about my dad. And that's when I cracked.'

Kurt flicked his eyes over to the window again, trying to keep his voice as steady as possible.

'I hit him in the face. He was taller and physically stronger than I was, so the first hit didn't do anything. So I hit him again, and again…and when he fell to the ground, I used my fists to pound him even more. I don't have a clear recollection of it…it was as if some other force inside me had gained strength and taken over. And when I stopped, there was blood on the floor…my hands were stained with it. All the yelling he had been doing had brought teachers and students out of their rooms and they stood there, staring at me in shock…like they would never have thought I had the capacity to do such a thing. That's how they found me: he was lying on the floor, crying; I was standing over him, looking down at my hands, wondering what I had done.'

Kurt looked back down to his fingers; they were clasped together on the table.

'He was hospitalized for two days. His parents sued the school and I was immediately expelled. Then they took my father and I to court. They accused him of negligence against me, and then they accused me of committing a hate crime. As if those jocks hadn't shown me anything but hate the entire year. They twisted the story around, alleging that I was the one who had harassed them, like I was some sort of sexual deviant. My father couldn't afford a lawyer after paying off his medical bills, so we had to defend ourselves as best we could.'

He dared to look up at Blaine, but the other boy's eyes weren't looking at him; they rested somewhere to the side near Kurt's shoulder.

'The judge sentenced me to eight months in juvenile detention, with a possible parole at six months with community service. I've been here since November, and now it's almost May. If I had known all those months ago that I would wind up here, I wouldn't have done it, I would have stopped myself somehow. Did I regret seeing him curled up on the floor, crying in the same way he had made me cry all year?'

His voice didn't feel like trembling this time. 'No. Not at all.'

He felt his eyes trail across to rest on Blaine's face. 'So there you have it.'

A long silence stretched between them. All the excitement that Blaine had shown minutes before had left him. His expression was unreadable. An officer walked closer to their table and Kurt through he was going to pass by, but he stopped next to him.

'Hummel, you have another visitor. It's your father.'

'Okay,' Kurt replied quietly. Blaine had said nothing, and as Kurt watched him silently, he still did not match his gaze.

'I know you might not want to visit me again, after what I have just told you. And I completely understand.'

Kurt looked down at the folder, running his hands over the dark cover.

'Thank-you for the gift; it was a lovely gesture.'

Blaine nodded, and this time Kurt didn't try to catch his gaze. He waited until he heard shuffling opposite him and the sound of footsteps walking away. He raised his head after a minute to find that Blaine had gone.

Kurt placed his hands over the folder and the watch, clutching them tightly and taking a deep breath to compose himself. The last thing he wanted was his father to start worrying about him again.

…

I hit him again, and again…

Blaine stumbled out of the meeting hall, Kurt's words ringing in his ears. He felt like he was going to faint, or be sick, or both. His mouth was dry and he felt dizzy. He didn't know what was worse; Kurt's account of his crime or the way in which Kurt had said it. There had been no playfulness in his tone, no sparkle in his eyes. No sign of contrition, no remorse. Just what seemed to Blaine to be emotionless indifference.

Somehow, Blaine managed to make it to the counter of the school's reception. He asked the receptionist for the visitor's sign-in book and she slid it under the glass panel in his direction.

'Son, are you okay?'

Blaine jumped; in the midst of his preoccupation, he hadn't noticed a man standing nearby.

'I'm – I'm fine,' Blaine stammered, feeling anything but fine.

'Are you sure?' The man was frowning slightly and had a look of concern in his eyes. 'Because you don't look too good.'

'I've – I've got exams coming up,' Blaine said, trying to shake off his sympathy. 'Too many late nights.'

This seemed to make the man relax a little. Blaine looked more closely; he was wearing a flannel shirt, a grey printed t-shirt and a trucker's cap.

'Trying to make you study too hard at Dalton?' the man said, before he fixed his eyes to the name in the sign-in book in Blaine's hand.

'So…you're Blaine? Kurt told me you had found his watch out on the sidewalk. I'm Burt Hummel.' He reached out to shake Blaine's hand.

Blaine felt himself stiffen as he shook it. 'Mr Hummel – '

'Call me Burt.'

Blaine nodded. 'I – I returned it just now, I'm sorry I took so long to do so…'

Burt waved a hand to dismiss the thought.. 'Don't blame yourself, kid. I know Kurt's just thankful that you even managed to come down here and return it to him.' He smiled warmly. 'I hope he didn't scare you away.'

Blaine tried to return the smile. 'No.'

Burt nodded. 'That watch belonged to his mother…I had it engraved for him on his last birthday.'

A pang of guilt shot through Blaine, and he looked away. Burt didn't seem to notice.

'He's a…he's a good kid.' His eyes fixed upon the crest of Blaine's blazer. 'Bright, too.'

Blaine nodded silently in agreement.

'He just…made a horrible mistake. He could have walked away, but he didn't, and it cost him.' He sighed and looked over at Blaine, and there was no denying the pain behind the other man's eyes.

'When you get pushed around for so long, something has to give. If only I'd known…I would have stopped it. But he took it upon himself, like he always does. He thought it was his own battle to face.'

Burt suddenly straightened up and looked at his watch.

'Well, I'm going in to see him. Make sure you take it easy, kid – don't let them push you too hard.'

Blaine found himself standing alone in the foyer, no longer wanting to be ill after the talk with Kurt's father but feeling more confused than ever.