"What's Carole making today?" I asked Kurt when we walked up to his house. He messed with the keys before getting the door open for us.

"I'm not sure. Maybe salmon," he replied. "Hey, dad! Hey, Carole!" he called once inside the house.

"It smells good," I commented conversationally.We hadn't really talked during the car ride, but it wasn't an uncomfortable silence. It was simply a Friday, school's-out silence. I could do that. Everything was good so far.

"Thank you," Carole said, appearing in the doorway of the kitchen, a frilly apron tied around her waist. She gave Kurt a hug, sending me a concerned glance. I knew she couldn't feel the bones through all the layers Kurt had dressed in, but Kurt's gaunt face said a lot already. Kurt had stiffened in her arms awkwardly but returned the embrace. Carole then turned to me to give me a hug, too. It felt sweeter, more comforting than ever for some reason.

"I hope you're hungry, boys. Dinner will be ready in an hour," she informed and went back into the kitchen. Kurt and I trudged upstairs and dropped our backpacks on the floor of Kurt's room. I laughed when Kurt groaned and flopped on the bed, face down in the pillow. I sat by him and stroked his back.

"Happy that the week is over?" I chuckled still.

"Yeah," Kurt turned his head to say. I started petting his head. "Homework is brutal. I'm just a lowly public school boy!" he lamented. We both giggled.

"Do you want to work on homework until dinner's ready?" I offered. He sighed dramatically.

"Yes, I suppose," he sassed and pushed himself off the bed to open his backpack.

We set to work for a while, familiar with how we do homework sessions. Suddenly we heard heavy footsteps. Burt showed up in the doorway and saw us studying, books spread all around us on the floor.

"We never studied had as much as you kids do today," he interrupted with a laugh.

"Giving us too much information and expecting us to regurgitate it all is a flaw in the education system today," I retorted lightly.

"Maybe you should propose an education reform in Congress, dad," Kurt joined in, too. We laughed. This I could handle. Everything was still good until…

"Well, I just wanted to let you know that dinner's ready. Blaine, why don't you head down there? I have to talk with Kurt," Burt said. I took my cue and left, pretending to ignore Kurt's nonverbal expression pleading me to stay. I made my way to the kitchen, leaving father and son alone.

Burt's POV

Blaine scurried off, leaving me with my son. It had been a tiring day at work and then I had gotten a call from Carole who basically told me Kurt had an eating disorder. Was that why he was so thin last time I saw him? This was another one of those moments when I was eternally grateful for having a mother-figure in Carole to look after some things that I can overlook.

I stood over him because he was sitting on the floor. His head was down.

"No hug for your old man?" I asked. Why was talking to my son so awkward now? He stood, and I reached out of this arm to pull into into a hug, but I felt my own fingers touch each other even when wrapped around his wrist.

"Kurt," I began gravely. "You're skin and bones." It was silent for a moment.

"Okay, dad," he whispered. I hugged him gently.

"Why aren't you eating?"

"I am."

"Not enough."

"What's your point here, dad?" his patience spiked.

"Eat, or we'll have to look into different doctors to help you."

Kurt's POV

Nothing seemed out of the ordinary or put me in a bad mood until Dad talked to me.

Trapped.

They're making me eat tonight. They're watching me tonight.

I'm infuriated at my dad for doing this, staring me down like that. Then he mocked me by calling me "skin and bones." I'm not in any way. I never see any bones with my body. There's only fat. Gross, disgusting, jiggly fat. There was no way I was going to eat tonight.

So I didn't. I sat at the table, ignoring all of their eyes yet knowing they were on me.

"Kurt," Carole started. Here we go. "Is it not good?" she asked me. I leaned back in my seat.

"I just don't feel well," I brushed off. Blaine, who was sitting adjacent to me, put his fork down and hung his head in his hands. It was silent, then he gave a shuddery breath and looked up at me.

"I'm sorry, baby," Blaine whispered. It almost physically startled me to see the sparkling tears in his hazel eyes. Why was he- Oh no.

"I won't hesitate to force food down your throat, Kurt," Burt stepped in. "Eat."

"No," I retorted immediately. I was not going to commandeered like that. This was insane. What the fuck were they trying to accomplish here?

"Eat, NOW!" my father yelled at me, slamming his fists forcefully down upon the table. Everybody jumped. I could count on one hand that times that my father had ever raised his voice at me like that.

"No," I repeated.

"If you don't eat all of that food on your plate, I'm taking you to the hospital immediately." There. That was the ultimatum. I slowly picked up my fork and ate. I ate all of the food on that damn plate just to placate my father. A hospital wasn't needed. Maybe a toilet to hurl into, but I know everyone would be watching or listening for that.

After dinner, the plates were being cleaned up by Carole. My dad sat to watch his nightly TV, and Blaine sat with me at the dining table still. If I moved, I was going to-

"I'm going on a walk," I found myself saying. I pulled on a coat, scarves, and mittens, about to head out the door when my dad yelled out.

"Blaine goes with you." Like he's some pet needing to be walked. Shitshitshitshitshit. My head reeled in fury because Blaine would surely thwart my plan.

"Fine," I gritted my teeth and said, reaching to pull Blaine quickly out the front door with me.

"Hey!" he yelped. I let go of him and turned to the direction of the park.

Blaine's POV

"Where are we going?" I asked cautiously to the huddled figure sulking along the sidewalk in front of me.

"To the park." I was surprised he answered me. I stayed silent, very afraid of his capricious behaviour. The park was a decent ten-minute walk from the Hummel house. Since it was night and there was a serious lack of streetlights, the place had an eerie quality to it. The swing sets' chains clanged as the wind rustled through the trees to the playground. Kurt stopped walking and stood there to look around.

"What are we-" I began to say, but Kurt turned to me in a flash of the eye with a look of danger across his shadowed-face.

"I love you, but I can't believe you did that to me."

"You need h-help," my voice shook from fear. Kurt snorted.

"I never needed help, love, but I need a favor now," he lowered his voice. My eyebrows furrowed.

"Okay?"

"You have to promise not to tell."

"Tell what?"

"Do you promise?"

"I want to know what I'm keeping a secret."

"Just fucking promise me, Blaine," he bit out.

"Okay, okay, FINE. I promise."

"Good. I love you."

"I love you, too," I sighed.

"Stay right here."

"Why? Where are you going?"

"Over there."

"Where?"

"You ask too many questions."

"What the fuck are you going to do?"

"Just fucking stay here, Blaine! God!" he yelled. I flinched at the level of his voice for how late it was but stayed quiet nonetheless. He stared at me before walking away in the direction of the playground. I only heard his footsteps because the darkness had enveloped him, limiting my vision.

It was too quiet, too creepy. I felt uncomfortable, pulling my jacket closer to my body. Then.

The telltale sounds of retching and vomiting.

So I broke out running in the direction of it. He stood by a trash can, bent over, and heaving. Any doubt of Kurt being bulimic was far out the door.

"Kurt! Stop!" I said harshly, hoping my firmness would get to him. He turned to me and narrowed his eyes, reaching his hand back into his mouth. He gagged and puked violently right in front of me. I stepped closer to him, an arm's distance away now. He picked his head back up, gasping.

"Don't do it again," I spoke in a tone like reprimanding a really annoying child. To my surprise, he moved his hand to stick his fingers down his throat yet again, but I slapped it away and held on. With his other hand, he made himself throw up again. He hung his head low into the trash can, the arm I held formed a tight fist and trembled at the force of his vomiting.

"God, Kurt," I whimpered, letting go. He coughed a couple of times, spitting a bit into the can. The tears came to my eyes faster than I could ward them off. They rolled down my face, making my sinuses go runny.

"Please, Kurt," I cried. He turned his head to look at me. The shadows cast on his face pointed out the bones in a sickly manner. "Don't do it again," I repeated myself, but it was more of a begging tone than anything else.

"I have to," he rasped out. His vocal cords were literally eroding away.

"Why do you have to? It's not healthy. It's killing you. You're too thin." I cried even more, flailing my arms around in a showy manner.

"I'm too fucking fat, Blaine! Don't tell me that I'm thin when I can see for myself that it's a lie," he said desperately.

"Oh my god," I breathed. "You can't even see it. God, Kurt, you really need help."

"If it's liposuction, I'll take that help," he murmured and opened his mouth again.

"Don't!" I said, grabbing his hand.

"Why do you care so much?" he snarled.

"Because I'm terrified of losing you, Kurt," I answered with brutal honesty. I could see his expression soften.

"Let go of me. It's just one more," he whispered. I stared into his blue eyes, my heart thumping, and I…

Well, I let him hurl for the fourth time.

Kurt's POV

The walk home was tough for me. I was used to being able to sit down after purging, not exercising more. I tripped over my own feet once, embarrassingly enough, falling on my hands and knees to the concrete.

"Are you okay?" Blaine choked out. I really can't believe I subjected him to that episode by the playground, but my greater, more dominant side was still very angry that he deliberately told on me and didn't stay where he was.

"Ugh, I'm fine," I mumbled, attempting to push myself up. If Blaine hadn't helped me, I wouldn't have been able to get up. My arms, my whole body, was too exhausted from purging.

"Can I carry you?"

"I'm too heavy, Blaine," I sighed, tired of trying to explain, trudging past him.

"Get on my back then."

"Fine," I relented, knowing he wouldn't necessarily feel all of my weight. With a little jump, I hopped onto his back, letting him adjust before he continued to walk. When we turned onto my street and caught sight of the house, I twisted my neck to speak into Blaine's ear.

"Remember. You promised you wouldn't tell."

In the light of the street lamps, I saw Blaine gulp. The way he was brought up, promises were always kept no matter what.