After one of the longest days of school that Kurt could remember ever suffering through, the quiet safety of his own room was nothing short of bliss. He had spent the entire school day dodging behind people or doors whenever he thought he might have seen Karofsky. That tactic in itself was hardly new, but now it had grown to encompass Karofsky’s friends as well. Because Karofsky had mentioned his name on the phone in the bathroom, and Kurt could no longer write it off as him being paranoid. Karofsky was definitely actively trying to seek him out. What that could mean, Kurt really did not want to think about. So instead he fell, face first, on his bed, letting out a groan of relief that was muffled slightly on its way down through the pillow. His homework was calling for him, but he really did not want to get up just yet. He reached out, set an alarm on his phone to wake him after half an hour, and wriggled about so he was lying on his side, legs bent and both hands tucked under his pillow. It was the most blissful thing to just relax and empty his head of worries, letting his thoughts go fuzzy and feeling himself sinking into the mattress with every slow, deep breath…
BAM!
He sat up with a start, eyes wide and staring around for the source of the noise. It did not take long.
“Finn! How many times have I told you? We open the door like a normal human being, not a rampant rhinoceros! We knock, too, for that matter.”
“Sorry. Too much leftover energy from football practice. Puck said –“
“I don’t give a flying fart what Puck said! Please tell me you didn’t wake me up to tell me what Puck said.”
Finn looked annoyed and a little hurt.
“You know, you could be a bit nicer to me. You sometimes act like all I do is annoy you and I’m just trying to be a good brother.”
Kurt sighed.
“I know. Sorry. I’m just a little on edge right now. And you did wake me up. What was it you wanted?”
“Oh, um. Mum says dinner’s ready. Also, it’s your time to set the table.”
Kurt groaned. He was not remotely hungry, but he knew that that would not excuse him from a Friday night family dinner.
“Alright. I’ll be down in a minute. On your way out, could you not –“
BAM!
“…slam the door this time?”

Kurt was still in a bad mood when they had finished eating. They had had Brussels sprouts, which he hated, and while rummaging around in the kitchen, he had cut his hand on the sharp edge of a lid. He had immediately thrown the lid very hard into the dustbin in revenge, but had then looked up to find Carole looking at him with an expression that showed she was trying very hard not to smile. He had dragged himself upstairs, grumbling, to do some of his homework, which had proved to be even more riling. His French homework in particular was just boring and repetitive exercises that he could do in his sleep, but now had to write down because their teacher wanted them to hand it in. He was only halfway through it, and very frustrated, when there was a knock on the door. Not Finn, then. He mumbled some sort of response and the door opened to reveal Carole, carrying a mug of hot chocolate and wearing a sympathetic smile.
“How’s the homework going?”
“Well enough. Although I could use a break before I go insane. I don’t know who they think they’re challenging with this.”
She set the mug down on his desk and gave his shoulder a reassuring squeeze.
“Okay then. Take a break and come downstairs. There’s something Burt and I would like to talk to you about.”
His stomach automatically clenched. Carole chuckled.
“Relax, honey, it’s nothing bad. We just didn’t want to bring it up at dinner in front of Finn, because… Well, you’ll see.”
He stood, grabbed the mug of chocolate and followed her downstairs, walking very carefully so as not to spill. His father was sitting in his favourite armchair, reading a magazine, but he looked up when Kurt sat down on the couch, drawing his legs up under him and taking tiny, measured sips of chocolate. He did not look too strict, and Kurt relaxed into the cushions.
“So, Kurt. Tell us about this boyfriend of yours”
Kurt nearly choked on a large, gooey marshmallow and had to suppress a small coughing fit.
“Wh-what? What do you want to know?”
His father shrugged, a small smile tugging at the edges of his mouth.
“Oh, the usual. How old is he, where does he go to school, what does he like to do in his free time. All that. You’re dating this kid. I want to know what he’s like. I have to make sure he’s good enough for my son, you know.”
It was the strangest things, telling his father about Blaine. He still did not tell him his name, and Burt did not protest, but he did tell him about his laugh and his coffee addiction and the way he could always tell if Kurt was sad or having a bad day. He found himself actually gushing, which he would later half-heartedly deny and then try to blame on Carole’s reactions, claiming they were gush-provoking and earning himself a loud snort from his father. He ended up talking for almost twenty minutes and only stopped when Burt waved his hands in the air in mock surrender.
“Alright, alright, kid. I get it, you like him.”
Kurt snapped his mouth shut, feeling a traitorous blush creeping up his neck, and Burt continued.
“He sounds like a good kid. You should bring him over for dinner.”
Kurt let out a startled squeak. This was not what he was expecting at all, and he found himself fumbling for words. His father and Blaine could not meet. If they did, they would find out that Kurt had been lying to them. A simple introduction would be enough to tumble everything.
“Breathe, kiddo. I know you said he’s not out, but we’re not taking him to a restaurant or going out in public. It’ll just be a family dinner and the four of us can keep a secret. He doesn’t have anything to worry about.”
“B-but – “
“I’ll be really nice to him, Kurt, I promise you. I just really want to meet the guy that made my kid smile more in a week than he usually does in a whole month.”
Kurt took in the earnest expression on Burt’s face and felt his heart swell. He knew that his father and Blaine would probably get along incredibly well. More than that, Kurt really wanted to be able to introduce them and watch them bond. It must have shown on his face, or maybe it was simply that his father just knew him so well, because he smiled a little and patted him on the shoulder.
“Bring him around, Kurt. Talk to him. If he’s okay with it, we can settle on a date for it that you can start fretting about.”
Kurt was silent for a moment.
“Okay. I’ll bring it up and ask him what he thinks.”
Burt beamed.
“Great. And relax, Kurt. I see how you’ve been since you’ve met him. Trust me, I already like the guy.”
Kurt gave a small smile to mask the worry writhing in his stomach and took refuge in his room with an excuse about his French homework.
He was in so much trouble.

It was lucky that he had the weekend to mull things over, because, starting Monday, things took a turn for the worse. He kept hiding out of sight whenever he spotted Karofsky or one of his cronies, and he managed to largely avoid any altercations in the halls by surrounding himself with friends and fellow glee club members. This did not stop the notes, however.
The first time, he thought it must be some sort of prank or practical joke. After all, why else would anyone hide a note in his locker? The note’s cryptic message of “You’re special” might be Mercedes’ strange way of trying to cheer him up, and she was the only one who knew his locker combination anyway. When he asked her about it, however, she looked at him as if he was crazy. He explained briefly and she shook her head, looking worried.
“I don’t know, Kurt. I mean, it might be a practical joke, but that’s a lot of effort to put into something. Remember, these people are usually about as subtle as a grape slushie to the face. They don’t really do psychological bullying, mainly because they just don’t have personalities. Take away their football and they develop an existential crisis.”
Kurt could not help but agree, but the thought did not comfort him in the least. If it was not a joke, then what was it? Mercedes looked about as bewildered and worried as he felt.
As the week progressed, the incidents continued. There were more notes. The one that said “Why can’t I stop thinking about you?” left Kurt panicked and it took him ten minutes in an empty classroom to calm down enough to go to his next class. On Thursday, he spent the entire day looking for his phone. He could have sworn he had forgotten it in his locker just before his first class, but when he hurried back to check during the ten minute break, it was nowhere to be found. He became increasingly frustrated and annoyed with himself for losing it and spent the entire day looking for it in increasingly unlikely places. He did not find it until school was almost over and he opened his locker to get out his geography books for his last class of the day. There it was, sitting on top of his English homework, as if it had always been there. Kurt barely had time to pick it up before something else caught his eye.
The photo of Blaine that usually greeted him from the inside of his locker door was almost unrecognisable. Someone had taken a knife to it, practically shredding it, and even as he stared, small strips fell to the floor. He slammed the locker shut, heart flopping about frantically somewhere around his Adam’s apple, hand clenched around the phone and pressing the dial button before he had even registered he was doing it. The dial tone sounded in his ear and just as he thought it would go to voicemail, there was a voice on the other end, bright and cheerful.
“Colin, hi! Sorry I didn’t answer right away, I was driving.”
Kurt tried to say something, but only managed a small, breathless sob.
“Colin? Colin, are you alright?”
Yet another sob, more pronounced this time. Blaine’s voice was high now, scared.
“Colin! Say something, please!”
Kurt swallowed over and over and finally got his voice to work again.
“Can… can you come get me?”
“Yes of course! Where are you? Are you going to be okay until I get there?”
“I’m at my school. I want to go home, but Finn drove me this morning because my car’s at the garage.”
There was the sound of rustling at the other end. Then Blaine’s voice was back.
“I’m on my way. But where’s Finn now? Shouldn’t he be with you?”
“He’s in Spanish class and then he has football practice. I’m skipping geography. I can’t be here right now.”
“What happened? Are you okay? No, I mean, you’re obviously not okay, but are you hurt?”
“I’m not hurt, no. I’m just… I’m scared, Blaine. I’m scared and I want to go home.”
“Okay, just go outside where I can see you. I’ll be there as soon as I can and then I’ll take you home. Just be safe, okay?”
“Okay.”

The wait outside McKinley was one of the longest Kurt had ever endured. At least, it felt like it. He could not keep still, so he ended up pacing the parking lot, hands in his pockets, the right one squeezing his phone, and the collar of his jacket turned up against the cold wind. He was jumpy, and the smallest noise made him turn around and scan the parking lot, but it was empty. Even the group of skinny, tired-looking teenagers that could usually be seen smoking behind the dumpsters was nowhere to be seen, their absence like an itch on Kurt’s skin. He wanted to scream, or cry, or run away as fast as he could, but instead he just kept pacing back and forth, drumming a nervous rhythm on his thighs and praying for Blaine to hurry.
When his car finally pulled into the parking lot, Kurt all but flew at him. Blaine was barely out of his seat before he found himself with an armful of Kurt, and he held him close for a moment before kissing him softly on the forehead and running his fingers through his hair.
“So. Are you going to tell me what’s wrong?”
Kurt sighed.
“Not here. Can we… When we get home. I mean, will you take me home and maybe stay with me for a while? I’ll tell you then, I promise.”
“Of course. Anything.”
When they finally broke apart to climb into the car, they were both too preoccupied to notice the large figure in a letterman jacket, watching them from the front entrance.

It was silent in the car, apart from the occasional muttered direction from Kurt. He had sent off a text to Mercedes, telling her that he was going home early, so he did not need a lift from her anyway, and now he was gazing blankly out the window, too tired to really feel anything. His mind was blissfully empty, his thoughts quiet and he let out a breath of air that fogged up the window in a small, white circle. Suddenly, there was a warm weight on the hand resting on his thigh and he turned his head to see Blaine smiling reassuringly at him, giving his hand a little squeeze.

The house was silent when Kurt let them in. He knew, of course, that Carole would still be at work, that his father would be at the garage for at least two more hours and that Finn would probably not be home until shortly before dinner. He and Blaine would have the house to themselves and Kurt would not have to worry about anybody meeting Blaine.
He led Blaine straight to his room, closed the door and plopped down on the bed, face first. Blaine remained by the door, taking in the room and looking ever so slightly awkward at the situation. His face lit up, however, when Kurt rolled over to face him and patted the bed to beckon him over. There was a bit of awkward shuffling that nearly resulted in Kurt elbowing Blaine in the face, but when they were finally cuddled together, with Blaine’s strong arms around his waist and his head pillowed on Blaine’s chest, Kurt felt completely safe for the first time that week. They stayed that way for a while, content to say nothing at all. Then Blaine cleared his throat.
“I like your room. It’s very you.”
Kurt chuckled into his shirt.
“What? I mean it. It’s very stylish. My room’s just sort of boring and bland, but yours is so homey and so full of… you.”
“Thank you. I like your room, though.”
“Mmh.”
Kurt took a deep breath.
“I’m sorry I freaked out on you like that.”
“But you didn’t – “
“Blaine, please. I called you and started crying. Not exactly the epitome of serenity and calmness.”
“Okay, maybe not. Are you ready to tell me about it?”
“Yeah.”
Kurt took another deep breath and steeled himself.
“You remember I told you how I was getting bullied at school? Well, this week has been particularly bad. Someone’s been breaking into my locker, or maybe just picking the lock, I don’t know. Anyway, they’ve been breaking into it and leaving me notes.”
At this, Kurt felt Blaine shift slightly and he looked up to see his face full of worry.
“They’ve been leaving you notes? What kind of notes?”
“Well, they’re all anonymous, but they say things like ‘You’re special’ or ‘You’re in my head’. The last one even said to ‘Stay away from him’. It’s really getting to me, and on top of that, I keep seeing Karofsky everywhere I look. I’ve been dodging him and he hasn’t actually done anything since… Well, he took my favourite pencil, but nothing more than that. Or… maybe… I don’t know. I mean, I can’t help thinking that the notes started after he… after that. But then I remember how he hasn’t actually talked to me since, so why would he write me notes? Then I think that it could be somebody warning me to stay away from Karofsky and then it all sort of blurs together in my head and I feel like I’m going crazy or being paranoid.”
Kurt felt Blaine’s arms tighten around him and he buried his face in his chest, his next words coming out a little muffled.
“That’s not all. Today I couldn’t find my phone. I thought I’d left it in my locker, which, in hindsight was stupid, seeing as I know someone’s been breaking into it, but I wasn’t thinking about it. I was stressing because I was going to be late for class and I forgot it, and by the time I came back for it, it was gone. I kept checking everywhere, but the only thing I found was that last note, and then, when I was getting my books for my last class, I opened my locker and my phone was there, and… and…”
“And what?”
“And they’d completely destroyed the photo of you that I have in my locker. They’d cut it up so badly that it practically fell apart when I opened the locker!”
“Oh.”
There was a pause, then.
“I didn’t know you had a picture of me in your locker.”
“You weren’t supposed to know. I wanted to keep my inner obsessive, smitten teenage girl a secret. I didn’t want to weird you out.”
Blaine chuckled and Kurt could feel the vibrations as a faint humming in the ear that rested on his chest.
“You couldn’t weird me out if you tried. We’re boyfriends, Colin. I’m pretty sure you’re allowed to have my picture in your locker. In fact, I think you’re required to, actually. I happen to like your inner smitten teenage girl.”
Kurt whined against his chest, and Blaine continued.
“Seriously, though. I can see why you were so out of it. I think anyone would be, in that situation. It’s scary to think that someone can get that close to you when you don’t even know who it is. Do you want to report it?”
“No. I mean, I want to, but I know what’ll happen. Figgins will say I have no concrete evidence and that he can’t do anything to help, and I’ll be just where I was before, except I’ll want to add him and the school board to my list of people to murder slowly in my daydreams. It won’t make any difference.”
Blaine tugged him up so they were face to face. He leaned in and kissed him, very gently, before running a finger over his cheek.
“I wish you could come to Dalton with me. I wish… I wish I could stop this from happening to you. It’s so unfair and I just… I just want you to be happy. And I want you to know that you can always come to me. I will always want to help you.”
“You already help.”
“But it’s not enough. I want it to make a difference.”
“It does make a difference, Blaine. I always feel better when I’m with you.”
And he leaned in and kissed him.
Kurt lost track of time. He had no idea how long they stayed like that, sharing slow, warm kisses on his bed. Eventually, though, eagerness overtook them and the kisses turned deeper, a little frenzied, and decidedly wetter. That was why, when a car came to a halt outside, they did not register it. It was why, when the front door opened and closed, they did not hear it. It was also why the footsteps on the stairs went completely unheeded. They were still on the bed, hair and clothes distinctly rumpled and faces flushed, when the door opened and Burt Hummel’s mouth fell open at the sight that greeted him.