It's not like Kurt means to eavesdrop. Not exactly.

But sometimes that's the best way to find things out. Being "protected" for his own good was seriously getting old. He's a perfectly capable, if fragile, young man; and he's got to learn to live with what happened at some point. And his family needs to stop barely looking at him because every stupid flinch is not helping him forget the attack.

And so he finds himself sitting on the darkened stairs, listening to his dad and boyfriend talk around the corner in the kitchen as they assume he sleeps. He had a nightmare, actually, and was going downstairs to look for Blaine when he heard them. And sat down to hear.

The stairs are hard and uncomfortable, but Kurt doesn't really notice. He's had worse, after all.
His dad's gruff voice comes first.

"I appreciate you coming out here, Blaine."

"It's not a problem," Blaine says. There's exhaustion in his voice and guilt twists Kurt's stomach. Blaine hasn't been home in a few days; instead staying the nights with Kurt. Which doesn't help either, since Kurt wakes him with either a scream or a punch. Blaine hasn't slept in days and it's Kurt's fault.

Kurt's a really awful boyfriend sometimes.

A mug clinks and a liquid gets poured. Coffee, Kurt thinks. He can smell it from the stairs. Even though it's already three in the morning. Kurt squeezes his fists. His father should be in bed. And not up worrying about him.

"Mr. Hummel," Blaine hesitates and Kurt imagines him chewing on his lip and tugging on his earrings, "About Kurt. I'm just...I'm sorry I didn't—"

His father laughs hollowly. Kurt's blood chills.

"Son, I think both you and I know what it's like to try to get Kurt to do something he doesn't want to do." Burt says dryly. "Coffee?"

"Yes, sir." Blaine whispers, and Kurt creeps down a stair. The carpet is thin and the edge digs into his ass, but he tries to slow his breathing so they won't hear him. Kurt's pretty sure some important things are going to be said.

Burt suddenly sighs. "Did Kurt ever tell you about how he came out?" He says conversationally.

Oh no. Kurt's cheeks flame red in the shadows.

"No," Blaine says, interested. "Just that he was really lucky you were supportive." Definitely a hint if jealousy. Kurt's muscles twitch, aching to run into the kitchen and hug him. Blaine doesn't deserve his family.

There's a faint pop from a milk jar and the clink of the sugar bowl. Burt asks if Blaine wants any creamer, and Kurt mouths along with his refusal and request for cinnamon. Daily trips to the Lima Bean and all.

"He was so freakin' scared." Burt finally speaks. He seems to wait for something from Blaine, but then continues. "He'd just gotten back from winning the football game—he tell you that? He was the kicker for McKinley for a few games last year."

"Kurt's something else," Blaine chuckles, and Kurt thinks he hears awe. It feels good.

He rests his chin on his knees, remembering that night he came out to his father. Oh God, he'd been so fucking terrified. He wasn't stupid; he'd read stories in the news about kids kicked out of their houses or abandoned for being gay. Burt probably wasn't going to do any of that (he'd sat through tea parties, after all), but it didn't really matter. He'd cried so hard after from relief that he still had a father.

"Damn right." Burt agrees. A chair scrapes across the floor. "Anyway, he was sittin' at his mirror putting all kinds of crap on his face, and I told him I was proud of him. And then he told me." A long sigh. "'I'm gay,' he says. And I already knew. I told him I knew since he was three and wanted a pair of sensible heels for his birthday."

They laugh quietly and Kurt can't repress a smile. It sounds like something a young Kurt would say.

Burt wasn't done. "I'll never forget that look of fear on his face." Burt says hollowly. "He was so scared of me and what I'd do to him, and it broke my heart. I promised myself I'd never let him be that scared again, but..."

"I'm sorry." Blaine whispered.

Burt snorted. "You know, I was mad at you at first. I didn't trust you the first time I found you in my son's bed, but you made him happy so I let it go. I thought you'd be strong enough to protect him."
Kurt clenches his hands, feeling his nails dig into his palms. Didn't they realize that it wasn't their decision? Telling was Kurt's. Just Kurt's. He doesn't need to be protected.

"I thought I would be too." And the anguish in Blaine's voice simultaneously makes Kurt want to cry and punch Blaine in his big stupid face.

The next words help. "But Kurt's strong. He fought back." And yeah, there is definitely some pride there.

"That he did." Burt chuckles. Kurt is just wondering whether he should go back upstairs to wait for Blaine when Burt speaks again. "How's everything with your dad?"

Kurt freezes and suppresses a faint groan. Fuck. Fuck fuck fuck. He hasn't thought about Blaine's situation in days. Weeks. Blaine's been dealing with that shit alone; how? Why?

Hell, Kurt has no idea what's going on with Blaine. The last he heard was Mr. Anderson trying to prove Mary as an unfit mother and withholding child support. Which was back in January. Kurt presses the heels of his hands into his eyes. Blaine has to secretly hate him. Kurt's so fucking selfish.

"They're settling on Monday," Blaine mutters. "He's moving to California and they have joint custody until I'm eighteen." Blaine's voice is flat. "I'm going to stay with Mom most of the year, but they're switching off on holidays. He gets Easter." Blaine says bitterly. "We had to drop the abuse charges. Mom wouldn't testify and I wasn't enough."

Kurt's heart tightens.

"Kurt couldn't be a witness? He obviously knew about it..." Burt trails off.

The question throws Kurt off. Why didn't they ask him to testify? He would have. In a heartbeat.

"He only saw the bruises and cuts after. He could have testified, but they were already going to make me sound unreliable and then I could have lied to Kurt about who hurt me, and yeah." Blaine growls out. "Not many people would believe me over my father, not when my own mother won't back me up."

They're quiet.

"We used that to get the custody dispute resolved." Blaine admits. "A trial would have been unseemly for him anyway. And dropping the charges means I only have to see him five or six times instead of half the year. Less time for him to tell me what a disappointment and a failure of a son I am." The words are harsh and bitter.

"That's not right." Burt growls. "Fathers shouldn't hit their sons."

Blaine snorts. "And kids shouldn't hurt other kids."

They sit for a while, drinking their coffee. "I should—" Blaine stands abruptly, chair dragging across the tile. "I should go check on Kurt." His voice is choked, but Kurt's distracted, hurrying to get up and run back to his room as silently as possible.

He makes it under the covers a full two minutes before Blaine comes in and tries to relax his breathing enough to fake sleep. It's still dark, so that helps. Blaine pauses in the doorway before walking over to the bed. The mattress dips when Blaine sits behind him. "Kurt," Blaine whispers, but doesn't touch him; he knows better than that. An unintentional black eye would really suck.

Instead he lies back, stretched on top of the comforter, a good few inches between them. Kurt still faces the wall, though his eyes are wide and he's having trouble remembering to breathe. He wonders if Blaine notices.

"I know you forgive me," Blaine admits to the dark room. "But I don't forgive myself." He twists, moving the bed and then his warm breath tickles the back of Kurt's neck. "I'm so, so sorry, Kurt."

It's more than probable Blaine knows he's awake, but Kurt can't move, can't speak. He'd thought everything was ok, but it's not, it's really not. And it sucks.

Kurt doesn't answer him.

The day Kurt goes back to school is a week and half after the incident. Figgins lifted the suspension for some inane reason, and Kurt's not questioning it. He was beginning to go crazy in his house.

But school will give him the chance to try to get back to normal. And Dr. Englund feels like Kurt is ready for it. Which he is. Ready for it. As soon as he can get his hands to let go of the steering wheel. He takes a deep breath, lets it out. A few people are already glancing over at his unsubtle car, but Kurt forces himself to just breathe. Mechanically, he gets the door open and walks quickly towards the large building, trying not to think about how close the locker room is. It's an early February morning, with a clear blue sky and crisp chill in the air. He wears a thick scarf and his favorite black coat, but with jeans that are decidedly looser than typical before the attack.

He's trying.

Kurt makes Blaine wait for him inside. He has to do this for himself. Prove that they can't touch him. That he's not helpless. So he walks through the doors and down the halls, head high and expression aloof, ignoring the whispers and the stares. It's hard. All those looks and glares and silent judgments. When he finally makes it to his locker, Kurt has to fight his knees to stay upright against the prying eyes of strangers. But Blaine's there.

"Glee's after school today." Blaine says lightly, though he watches Kurt get his books with careful eyes. "Rachel planned a welcome back thing for you. Figured you would want a warning." Blaine made a face, wrinkling his nose.

God love her, but sometimes Rachel doesn't know the meaning of "laying low." Kurt really just wants to survive the day. Calling attention to himself is so not in the plan.

"I don't really..." Kurt trails off, biting his lip. He's not sure if he can deal with the glee club yet. They're a little…much, sometimes.

"How about Freddy vs. Jason and a whole cheesecake?" Blaine grins.

Kurt smiles weakly. "Thanks. That sounds perfect."

The day passes slowly. Kurt has to fight the urge to bolt in every class because the students just stare; don't they know that's rude? But he's making it through and no one's really talked to him except Mercedes and Rachel and Blaine and they try to stick to neutral subjects. Kurt's grateful.

The peace lasts until lunch.

Kurt's snickering at Blaine, who has somehow managed to get ketchup on his nose. He'd been waving his arms and trying to make a point to Finn about the Buckeyes when he hit his tray with his hand. Sulking, Blaine is letting Kurt try to clean him off with a napkin when loud voice cut across the cafeteria din.

"Yo, Anderson, ain't you scared the fairy's gonna scream rape when he's done with you?"

The chatter dies off and Kurt cannot move. What? Of all the things he thought the students believed of him, that was a new one. They think I faked it. A low growl from Blaine snaps him out of his trance and Kurt grips his arm hard and pins his boyfriend to the seat. Blaine's face is dark with fury and he glares at the jock table, where Azimio glares right back, but smugly.

The air feels heavy and charged with tension and Kurt just needs to be gone, but coming to school was about facing his fears and he'll be damned if he's going to run away now. This is just…really unexpected. So instead, Kurt focuses on trying to make sure Blaine doesn't get expelled because judging by the look on Blaine's face? He's not too concerned about that.

"How about you say that again?" Blaine snarls and stands up, ignoring Kurt's desperate attempts to keep him quiet. "C'mon, Z, got something to say to my face, dickhead?" And then Blaine, oh Christ is marching over to the jocks and the Glee club kids just watch in silence so it's up to Kurt to make sure his boyfriend doesn't die before seventeen.

Kurt jogs next to Blaine and tries to pull him back because they'll kill him; they really will; why doesn't Blaine get that? "Blaine, let it go, it doesn't matter," Kurt mutters, flushed with fear and embarrassment. He just needs to get through the day; Kurt really can't care about what these assholes think about him. Karosky was one of them, they had to think like this; they can't think of him as the villain. "Blaine!"

But Blaine's in one of his "protector" moods; the kind that reminds Kurt of a big dog pissing on a tree to mark its territory and a flood of anger rushes through Kurt's body so fast he nearly trips as he follows Blaine to the jocks. He's not a fucking tree.

Azimio, the great, big, hulk of a boy built like a linebacker, towers over Blaine. His arms are crossed and he's flanked by two equally large football players, both of whom eye Kurt with a mixture of loathing, fear and disgust. It's eerily like how Karofsky used to watch him and Kurt represses a shudder.

"Blaine, come on, please, let's go," Kurt pleads and pulls on the leather jacket, but Blaine only spares him a quick glance before planting himself in front of Azimio.

"Apologize to him." Blaine orders, eyes flashing, and Kurt has never felt more embarrassed in his life. He's like the little kid that hides behind the teacher when the big kids steal his crayons. An angry beast claws its way up Kurt's chest, but he stays silent. I am NOT a damsel in distress, I can take care of myself!

Azimio bursts out laughing. He elbows his friend, who cracks a grin, and Kurt tenses. Might as well give it another chance.

Kurt stands in front of Blaine, hands on his shoulders and catches Blaine's eyes. "Blaine. Please. Let's just go, they don't matter. They don't." Please please please drop it, he silently begs.

Blaine hesitates. His hazel eyes are still angry, but he rarely can resist Kurt when he asks for something. But Azimio can't let it go.

"Can't even control your little slut, can you, hobbit?" Azimio laughs cruelly, and Blaine sees Kurt freeze at the words, thrown back in a small flashback. Slut, whore, bitch. "Look at him; no wonder Karofsky got confused. Those giant-ass hips and tight as fuck pants fooled him. Ain't you supposed to be gay? What's up with the girl?" The taunts just kept coming until Kurt tunes them out, letting them become a dull roar. But Blaine's face gets darker and darker and Kurt grabs his hand to hold him back but Blaine rips it away. And tackles Azimio to the ground with a primal yell.

Kurt can only stand there as all of his courage and cautious optimism he's so carefully built up gets torn down in seconds.

He blindly tears through his house, eyes wet and breath hitching with the effort to not dissolve into tears and sobs and never move again. Kurt flies up thestairs, away from the anguished voice crying out for him to wait.

No.

He so done waiting.

Kurt stands in the middle of his room and Blaine's right behind him.

"Kurt, come on, look at me—"

"Shut. Up. Just—just shut up. I don't want to talk to you." Kurt glares at the boy in front of him. He wants to rage and scream but—not yet. He should calm down. Blood still races in his veins though, and Kurt's limbs shake with fury.

Blaine falls silent and sits on his bed, watching Kurt pace. His leg bounces up and down and he crosses his arms, glowering at the floor in the silence. Seconds tick by and Kurt's still pissed.

So many fucking emotions. Anger, mostly. But also shame and embarrassment. A lot of it is shame. What happened in the lunch room…everyone saw it. Saw Kurt couldn't even stand up for himself. Just let his boyfriend take the punches. Literally. Blaine's cheek is already swollen and red and there's a small cut about his eyebrow where Azimio's ring scraped him. His white shirt is smeared with dirt and blood and Kurt is just so furious.

"How could you do that to me?" Kurt rounds on Blaine, whose eyes widen in surprise. "What the fuck were you thinking?! Blaine! Why would you do that?!"

"I thought," Blaine grits out, eyes narrowed and fists clenched, "I was protecting you."

"I don't need your protection!" Kurt yells. And God, it feels good. "I don't! I can take care of myself! This is my responsibility; not yours; and not Dad's either, for that matter! Mine! So back the hell off!"

Blaine stands up and Kurt's shocked at how someone so small can seem so large. Vibrating slightly, Blaine opens his mouth and closes it, then seems to decide to hell with it. "I'm trying to help you, Kurt, what the fuck is wrong with you?!" Blaine shouts. His eyes blaze and Kurt is seized with an overwhelming urge to slap him. He quells it. Barely.

"Would you like a list?" Kurt says, voice dripping with sarcasm. To his credit, Blaine blushes, but keeps up the furious expression. Kurt begins ticking off finger by finger. "Well, I am clinically depressed, stressed beyond belief, suffering from PTSD, haven't slept a night through in a week and a half, my ribs still hurt when I do anything, my medication means I can go from numb as a rock to being worse than Rachel on her period, and I can barely take a hug from my boyfriend without crying!"Kurt's voice is raised by the end. "Not to mention, I have self-esteem and body issues and oh! Let's not forget the fact I was suicidal a few weeks ago too!" Kurt laughs, bitter and cynical. "That's me; Kurt Hummel! Self-proclaimed gay, probable psycho, and emotionally volatile from being almost raped!" He spreads his arms wide and Blaine scowls

"Azimio was insulting you. And it was hurting you." He says defensively. Kurt hears the ice in the words, but he's too far gone to care. "You're overreacting, Kurt, shut up!"

"Oh, for Christ's sake, Blaine; I hear that kind of shit every day." Kurt hisses. He almost can't speak, but the words claw their way out. "Every day! I knew they wouldn't ever be able to see me as a human being and whatever, I have two more years here and I'm gone. They don't matter. But you, Blaine," Kurt jabs him with a sharp finger, "you do. I need you to trust me, and not treat me like I'm china! I need you to not get thrown in jail and ruin your life for me! I need to not be a victim to you!" Kurt cuts himself off and hugs his middle. Tears threaten but he pushes them back.

Blaine breathes heavily, and looks so hurt and betrayed Kurt wants to groan. But he's silent. Blaine rubs his face and looks all around the room, shifting from foot to foot in an effort to stall. Kurt braces himself.

Shit is definitely hitting the fan now.

"It's just detention, Kurt."Blaine says tightly.

"You're an idiot." Kurt tells him, because that is so not the point. He had needed to prove to himself he can stand on his own two feet, that Karofsky hadn't broken him completely. But Blaine running in with fists ruins everything. Makes him that weak victim again in front of everyone. But Kurt can't put this in words; can't order his own thoughts past so fucking angry that his kicks at his vanity chair. Finn had totally lied; that did not make him feel better and only smashed his toes. Kurt falls to his bed hissing a loud curse as he clutches his foot.

"Well I'm sorry I tried to defend your honor." Blaine snaps out, arms crossed. "I won't make that mistake again."

"You know damn well that's not why I'm pissed!' Kurt feels like tearing out his hair in frustration. "Fuck, Blaine!"

"Why are you yelling at me?!"

"Because you're pissing me off!"

Blaine matches his glare and Kurt's pretty sure he's never seen Blaine angrier. Not even when he was sitting in Figgins' office and getting assigned detention for a week while Azimio walked out scot-free.

The air feels like one spark could send the whole thing up. Anger warps the air and twists around them, and Kurt knows he can't be around Blaine. Not right now. Later. But not…now.

"Maybe you should go, Blaine." Kurt finally gets out. He just can't stand Blaine right now, can't deal with being a fucking victim all the time. Can't handle Blaine looking at him and only seeing the attack and not Kurt.

But Blaine's face turns darker and there's a flash of pain and hurt before it's wiped blank. "I guess I should." He says, and the words hang heavy between them. "I won't bother you anymore." Blaine meets Kurt's gaze evenly, though his chest heaves, like he's trying not to cry.

What? "What?" Kurt looks at him stupidly. The way Blaine is looking at him makes him think there is so much more behind what he said, but he can't quite…see it.

Blaine rolls his eyes and scoffs. "Bye, Hummel." He says flatly. Kurt just sits, dazed, as Blaine turns his back and walks out his door. He hasn't moved when a faint slam echoes through the house.

Kurt's pretty sure he's just fucked up everything and his chest tightens.

Shit.