The first time Kurt gets slushied in front of Blaine is a brutal triple attack from Azimio, Karofsky, and Stephens. He stands there, more from the shock of sudden sticky cold slapping his face than the shock of actually getting slushied. He silently mourns the loss of his shirt; it was one of his favorites. When he wipes the juice out of his eyes, he sees Blaine's face grow dark and furious.

Kurt suddenly remembers that he doesn't know that much about Blaine. Like why he transferred. And if all the rumors of him being a drug dealer are true. Or that one about starting a Fight Club at his old school. There was one that said Blaine just got out of juvie. Kurt hadn't put much stock in that last one, but looking at the tension and fury rolling off of Blaine in waves, he reconsiders.

"You alright?" Blaine's voice is still tender, and Kurt nods mutely. "Good," Blaine mutters. "I'll see you later tonight."

Then he's taking off down the hall, chasing three red-jacketed jocks and yelling curses. Kurt's heart leaps into his throat.

"Oh shit, no, Blaine," Kurt wipes his face with a sleeve and runs after Blaine, but not before Blaine launches himself at one of the jocks. Stephens falls to the floor with a bloody nose and a yell. Blaine punches him twice in the face before Azimio pulls him off.

For a small guy, Kurt realizes how scrappy Blaine is. And how well he fights. Blaine twists out of Azimio's arms and knees the football player in the groin before turning on Karofsky. Before he lays a finger on him, however, a teacher is running out, her eyes blazing and mouth yelling.

Kurt can hardly believe it. The teachers don't noticed Kurt getting attacked daily, but the second football players are in trouble, they come out of their little dens.

Blaine gets detention for a week. The jocks get warnings.

The whole situation is so unfair that Kurt finds himself yelling at the teacher, then the secretary, and then Figgins. He gets detention too.

He couldn't care less.

At least he'll be with Blaine.

In detention, they sit next to each other in the back of the room.

Blaine gives a fierce look to Jacob Ben Israel, who scurries away to the front. Alone, Blaine studies Kurt.

Kurt does his best to ignore Blaine's calculating gaze. He opens his French textbook and tries to lose himself in conjugation. Blaine doesn't approve.

"I didn't know you can yell like that."

Kurt looks up and sees Blaine, head resting on one hand and smirking. "You don't know me very well." He finally says, and goes back to the book. "I didn't know you could fight like that."

"You don't know me very well." Blaine says. Then—"Is this who you used to be?" Kurt is silent. "I like it." Blaine smiles faintly. "It suits you."

"I haven't yelled like that in a long time." Kurt stares at his book. "It never seemed like anyone was listening."

A hand grabs his and strokes his fingers comfortingly. "Someone is now."

Mercedes corners Kurt the next morning.

"Boy is bad news," she says. Kurt doesn't speak, just clutches his books tighter to his chest and looks through her. Mercedes doesn't like it. "I'm serious, Kurt! He's already got detention for the next week and he's been thrown out of more schools in the last three years than you've been in your whole life!"

"So?" Kurt glares and feels an old spark of sass flare up in his chest.

She gapes at him. "So, don't go out with him. I heard you got detention too. He's clearly a bad influence." Mercedes rolls her eyes, like it's the most obvious thing in the world.

Kurt counts to ten in his head. Slowly. "Mercedes he starts but is cutoff when he is shoulder-checked hard into the lockers. He hits the metal with a crash and drops his books, eyes tearing up as pain rips across his shoulder.

"Watch where you're going, homo!"

The words hurt as much as the locker.

"I wasn't moving!" he shouts back, anger flooding his body. It's exhilarating. He's been numb for weeks; anger is a welcome change. He's sick of taking the bullying lying down.

Karofsky turns and laughs. Just outright laughs in his face. "You exist, fag! Just go die, no one will miss you anyway!" He high-fives Azimio and saunters away.

Mercedes helps him up. "Are you alright?"

Not trusting himself to speak, Kurt nods, but watches Karofsky walk away and wishes he could burn holes in that damn letterman's jacket. The words settle deep within his heart, sharp as razors.

He ignores Mercedes and walks to his first period class.

Between classes, Kurt stops by his locker to switch out his morning binders for the afternoon. Blaine had gotten caught texting Kurt so he was currently being detained by Mrs. Liptak. He shot such a pitiful look at Kurt when Kurt left that Kurt almost laughed.

He wonders if he should wait at the lockers or go to lunch without Blaine. He took out his phone before he remembers Blaine doesn't have it (and probably won't for a while if Liptak has anything to say about it).

It happens in slow motion.

A thick hand smacks Kurt's phone out of his hand and slams him into the locker. Kurt hisses as the lock digs into his back. Breathing harshly, Kurt squeezes his eyes shut. And remembers what Blaine said to him.

"Why do you let them push you around?"

Blaine had found out Kurt still gets bullied when he isn't around.

"Because they are built like tanks. And I'm a twig." Kurt studies his coffee. He never would have thought Blaine was a coffee fiend, but here they are, sitting in The Lima Bean, same as every afternoon.

Blaine tries a different tactic. "I think you should refuse to be the victim." He states. When Kurt scoffs, Blaine frowns. "I know you're better than this. Be strong. Call them out. They're just ignorant. I can help."

"Blaine, I appreciate the advice, I do, I just…" Kurt bites the words off and takes a deep breath. "I'm not you. I just want to get through high school alive and I just have one more year in this shit town and I'm gone." He takes a deep gulp of his mocha.

They both sit there in silence.

"There's a difference between 'existing' and 'living,' Kurt." Blaine smiles sadly.

Kurt felt guilty and ashamed. He hates who he is now. But he can't change. So Kurt throws out his coffee and walks back to his car, ignoring the way his stomach is twisting inside of him.

The red letterman jacket walks away from him. Students in the hallway walk past him. And then Kurt is hit by such a wave of anger and fury that he almost trips as he runs after Karofsky.

"HEY!"

A few students glance at him quizzically, but Kurt only has eyes for Karofsky. The jerk asshole that's determined to make his life a living hell. Blaine is in his mind, telling him he can do this, he can take a stand and make things better for himself.

Kurt Hummel is nobody's princess.

David Karofsky needs to be reminded.

The jock ignores the shout and walks into the locker room. Kurt doesn't stop, doesn't hesitate before he is inside and screaming at Karofsky.

"I am talking to you!" Kurt is seething. Adrenaline pumps through his veins and a calmer part of Kurt notices his hands are shaking.

"Girl's locker room is next door, fag." Karofsky doesn't look at him but focuses on getting some sweaty, smelly clothes from out of the locker. Kurt is disgusted but suddenly his mouth is running and he can't stop what comes out.

"Oh right, every straight guy's nightmare; that all us gays are secretly out to molest and convert you." Kurt spits out. He sees Karofsky flinch, but Kurt is too far gone to actually care. "Well, guess what, hamhock? You're not my type!"

Kurt almost takes a step back at the utterly terrifying look that past over Karofsky's face, but Blaine whispers Courage and Kurt stands his ground.

"Is that so?" Karofsky's voice is low and dangerous and from far away Kurt knows he should just drop it and leave, but his mouth has other ideas.

"Yeah, I don't dig on sweaty guys that'll be bald by thirty." He says with as much contempt as he can muster.

"What about Blaine?"

That shut's Kurt up. He stares at Karofsky with huge blue eyes, suddenly more nervous than angry. He's never heard someone say a name with so much hatred and jealousy and Karofsky just looks at him. Kurt forces his mouth to move.

"What about him?"

"Is he your type?"

Kurt flinches at the shout. The door seems really far away now. He wonders if Blaine knows where he is.

"IS ANDERSON YOUR TYPE?" Karofsky punctuates the shout with a punch to the lockers and Kurt takes a step back. This situation is suddenly far more dangerous than anticipated.

Sometimes, Kurt hates his mouth.

"Yes." Kurt knows he should feel guilty when he sees Karofsky's face crumble, but the sight of one of his most vicious tormentors in a fraction of the pain they put him through makes a rush of satisfaction flood through him.

Then Karofsky's face changes and Kurt is filled with an instinct to run, run, get out but before he can move a hand is grabbing his shirt and pressing him against the lockers and warm lips that taste of stale beer and cheeseburgers are pressed over his and Kurt is so shocked, he can only stand there as thoughts of NO NO NOT LIKE THIS scream through his mind.

Karofsky steps back and stares at Kurt, clearly just as shocked as Kurt. Kurt feels panic fluttering around the edges of his brain and he gapes at Karosky. For long second, neither of them move, then Karofsky smiles and goes in for a second kiss but this time Kurt shoves him back, one hand over his lips protectively. He feels the burning behind his eyes but he will not cry, not in front of Karofsky. His breaths are short and harsh, and he tries not to cower when Karofsky hits the locker and brushes past him, tries not to think about the heartbroken look on Karofsky's face.

Kurt slumps down against the locker, hand pressed tight against his mouth as if he can keep all of his emotions inside. He shakes. He can hardly breathe.

Karosky kissed him. His first kiss. By a closeted homophobe. Kurt wants to laugh at the sheer clich�-ness of the whole situation but he has a terrifying feeling that if he starts, he'll end up crying.

He can't deal with this. He can't deal with someone else's problems on top of his own. Kurt leaves McKinley and goes home, ignoring everyone and turning off his phone. He cries himself to sleep.

Kurt calls Blaine late that night. He didn't want to cry anymore, but the feelings kept growing and growing and he'd burst if he didn't let them out—feelings of self-hatred, depression, terror and anxiety. Kurt wants to get better. He wants to be happy. And most of all, he doesn't want to be alone. He's tired of being lonely.

Blaine is half asleep when he picks up.

"H'lo?" Blaine's groggy voice ignites something warm in Kurt's chest.

"Blaine?" Kurt whispers.

He hears shifting and imagines Blaine sitting up and rubbing his hand over his face and through the soft, silky curls Kurt desperately wants to touch. "Kurt? It's like three in the morning, are you alright?" There's a note of panic in Blaine's voice.

"No, no, I'm fine." Kurt assures him quickly. He pauses. "Physically," Kurt says softly. He speaks quickly to cover the confession. "I'm sorry I woke you up."

"It's alright. I don't mind. What's up? Why did you leave school today?"

Kurt wants to cry at the honesty in Blaine's voice. He can see the huge hazel-green eyes filled with worry and the thick eyebrows drawn together in his mind. Blaine is probably fiddling with one of his many earrings like he does when he gets nervous. Kurt hears a faint chinking through the phone that tells him he's right.

He takes a deep breath, suddenly scared as hell.

"Did you mean what you said?" The whisper is so quiet that Kurt wonders if he'll have to repeat himself. He hopes not. Those six words were the hardest ones he's ever said. Kurt never asks for help, and he feels like doing it now and he has no idea why. He sucks in a breath, knowing Blaine could break him in a second. The silence draws on.

He wishes he knew what Blaine was thinking.

He prays Blaine knows what he is talking about.

"Kurt…" Kurt's heart is in his throat and he's having trouble breathing. "Of course. Yeah. I'm listening. I want to help." Blaine's voice is breathless, like he understands the responsibility Kurt has just thrown at him. Kurt chokes back a sob. "What do you need?"

Kurt loses it. Tears spill over as he presses a hand to his mouth and wills the cries to stay silent. No one has bothered to ask him that for months. No one cared enough too. And now here was Blaine.

Sweet Blaine, who was still a mystery. Who sits at lunch with him and endures the rumors. Who holds his hand in the hallways without a second thought. Who stands up for him. Who fights for him.

Who sees Kurt.

"Kurt? Tell me what you need."

He thinks. What does he need?

"Sing to me?" Kurt's voice is thick. He needs to hear someone sing to him. It happens in Glee all the time: people singing for each other. But not for Kurt. Never for Kurt. The last time he's had a song sung to him was a week before his mother died. Before the cancer stole her energy and her life.

Blaine is silent for a long time. "Kurt? I'm still here; I was trying to find a song. And—and promise not to laugh?" Blaine sounds so nervous that Kurt wants to laugh. Like he'd ever laugh at Blaine like that.

"I won't laugh."

"Okay." Blaine chuckles softly. "Ready for your ears to cry?"

"I doubt you're that bad, Blaine." On the contrary, Kurt knew Blaine had to be perfect. His voice was so beautiful just speaking.

Blaine snorted. "Alright. Here goes…" There's a fumbling and then Blaine begins.

"'Wake up and smile,
Put on a tie,
Walk to the car and wave goodbye,'"

Kurt is transfixed. Blaine had slowed the song down to a ballad form, but his voice had a rich tone and Kurt gets lost in the lyrics.

"'You're one moment away ,
One chance left to take,
And you're gone
Are they gonna remember you for running away
Or saving the day from the darkness
And letting your love shine through?
What will you do?
You're one moment away…'"

When Blaine lets the last note trail off, Kurt listens to his quiet breathing for a few seconds. He knows he has a lot to think about. Karofsky, Blaine, himself.

Why does it feel like this?

Kurt swallows the lump in his throat. "Wouldn't have pegged you for such a sap." He says hoarsely.

Blaine laughs at that. "Don't worry, Hummel, I have plenty of screamo to fit the stereotype." Kurt relaxes with the easy banter. He's suddenly exhausted, physically and mentally. His head is such a jumble of emotions that he feels dizzy. What was Blaine doing to him?

"Listen to the lyrics though. I meant them." Blaine's tone is seriously and Kurt shivers.

"Okay." He whispers.

"You're stronger than you think you are."

Kurt wants so much to believe him.

"Call me if you need to?" Blaine sounds so hopeful. And worried.

Kurt wonders what Blaine thought he was about to do. Did Blaine think he was suicidal or something?

"I will." Kurt promises and hangs up. He buries himself deep into his covers and tries not to think of all those times when he locked himself in the bathroom and stared at the razor blade he'd stolen from his father's garage.