Things change again after Blaine spends the night in Kurt's bed. He feels it when he wakes up-cheeks stiff with dried tears and muscled cramped from clutching the boy while they sleep. Something beneath the surface is different.

Kurt doesn't know what to make of it, so he lets it go.

It's something that's been getting easier.

Blaine doesn't leave Kurt's side. Before, it was unusual to see them apart, but now it's downright apocalyptic.

Between classes, Blaine appears and attaches himself to Kurt's hip, smelling slightly of cigarettes and sandalwood and leather and glaring at anyone that dares to come near them. Karofsky stays away when Blaine is there, but it doesn't stop the looks or the threatening hind signs.

A locker slams and Kurt instinctively flinches.

Then one day Blaine isn't in school.

Kurt waits by his locker for the curly-haired leather-wearing teen to show up, but the clock hands slide to 7:22 and Kurt has to book it to make it to homeroom on time. He sends Blaine a text before he realizes what he's doing, and curses himself as soon as he finished. It's one day. Blaine was probably sick. Kurt could handle one day by himself in McKinley.

He'd done it before Blaine.

So Kurt keeps his head high and tries to ignore that tiny voice in his head whispering that Blaine would never leave you alone like this, not on purpose, something is really really wrong.

They aren't even dating, why should he feel so codependent on just a friend?

Kurt's internal war lasts until English.

Without Blaine, the bullies revert to their old ways, trying to squeeze weeks of missed chances into one day. Kurt's already been slushied twice and locker-checked four times. The bruises he's been so carefully monitoring for healing just got set back weeks.

Karofsky promises Kurt a present after Glee, a really unsettling glint in his eyes.

But Kurt could ignore that. It's nothing he hasn't dealt with before. No, what really scares him is the fact that Blaine hasn't replied to his texts yet. Any of them.

His phone is constantly in his hands and Kurt can't help but check it every few seconds, willing it to vibrate and light up. It remains silent. Kurt glares at the offending hunk of glass and plastic.

"Kurt?" Rachel whispers. She gives him a concerned look. "What's going on? Where's Blaine?"

Everyone knew Blaine was absent. The seat beside Kurt was glaringly vacant and Kurt saw all the tiny glances everyone threw at him when Mr. Burgess rapped his desk and began lecturing about the importance of diction. Kurt and Blaine were a package deal and no Blaine combined with a nervous, edgy Kurt…well. People knew.

"I don't know." Kurt glanced at his phone again. A thousand scenarios went through his mind.

Maybe he was sick and was sleeping it off.

But he would have texted you.

Maybe he overslept.

He still would have come to school.

Maybe…maybe…

Rachel shifts in a little closer. "Is everything alright? I can't imagine he'd leave you alone like this," she lightly touches his corn syrup-stained shirt.

"I'm fine," Kurt waves it off. What if something really bad happened? Kurt stiffens.

Rachel studies him, like she knew where his thoughts just went.

"Lunch is next. Why don't you go check on him? I'll tell everyone you felt sick and cover for you in Glee."

Kurt never thought he would want to hug Rachel Berry more than that moment.

The Andersons' house is huge.

Kurt had no idea Ohio even had mansions like this.

He swallows as he drives his Navigator up the long driveway, noting how the grass is perfectly cut and the bushes are neatly trimmed. The house could have been on the cover of Better Homes and Gardens and not look the slightest bit out of place. He sees Blaine's car and parks behind it, eying the large mahogany door apprehensively.

Class was something Kurt could fake. As the son of a mechanic, he was used to being looked down upon by upper society members at the garage. He secretly enjoyed their shocked faces when he out-bitched any one of the high-class socialites. And he dressed better. But staring up at the three story mansion will expensive landscaping and more windows than he thought possible, Kurt knew he was way out of his element.

To: Blaine
I'm at your house. Answer the door. I know you're in there, I can see your car.

Kurt keeps his phone in his hand as he gets out of his car and walks to the door, faking confidence. Just what was Blaine playing at anyway? The house looms silently and even the doorbell chimes emptily.

It felt abandoned. Stuffy.

Wrong.

Kurt is about to ring the bell again when his phone buzzes.

From: Blaine
Just come in. go up the stairs it's the second to last door on the right

Kurt frowns at the text, the apprehensive feeling growing. But he twists the doorknob and it popps open, creaking slightly. Kurt walks in, shutting the door behind him.

It looks like a photo set.

Everything is cleaned, dusted, arranged just so. Vases with perfect white flowers. Spotless mirrors. Tasteful art on the walls.

It doesn't feel like home.

Kurt can see Blaine (beautiful, happy, restless Blaine) dying slowly inside this gilded cage of wealth and class.

He shivers and walks up the stairs.

"Come in," Blaine's voice is faint through the thick door. Kurt opens it and slips in.

The air is different here. Less stiff. More Blaine. It's a mess, books and papers and sheet music litter the floor and the desk. The walls have posters of everything from Broadway plays to heavy metal bands to pictures of boys in private school uniforms.

A guitar and a keyboard are in a corner.

And then there's Blaine.

Kurt wants to cry out, to yell and scream, but stays quiet. He walks over and sits on the edge of Blaine's bed. Blaine keeps his head down, his hands fiddling with his phone. He's fully dressed, but the bed is messed up and Kurt has a feeling Blaine hasn't left it since last night.

He thinks he might have an idea of what happened.

He thinks he's known for a while.

"What happened to your eye?"

"Bar fight." Blaine shakes Kurt's hand off. "I'm fine."

He's lying. "It looks painful."

"Nothing I haven't had a thousand times before."

The words scare Kurt.

Blaine sleeps over in Kurt's room more often that week, always sneaking out before dawn.

Kurt suddenly wants to be sick.

"Blaine?"

The curly-haired head stays down.

"Blaine, please talk to me." Kurt reaches out and puts a hand on Blaine's arm. When he doesn't react, Kurt shifts in closer. "Blaine, I'm sorry I didn't—"

That got Blaine's attention. His head snaps up and Kurt tries to suppress a gasp. The right side of his face is discolored to a dark purple, his eye almost swollen shut. Kurt notices the washcloth in Blaine's hands, soaked with blood from a cut on his head.

"Oh God, Blaine—"

"It's not your fault," Blaine interrupts. He looks distressed so Kurt doesn't protest, but he does grip Blaine's hand tightly. "It's—it's not your fault. Don't feel bad. It happens a lot."

Kurt feels like crying and screaming all at once. God, his emotions have been all over the place this week. "How the hell am I not supposed to feel bad about your dad beating the shit out of you on a daily basis?" Kurt snaps, suddenly angry. Parents weren't supposed to treat their kids like this. Bullying at school was somewhat accepted, but child abuse was an entirely different ballgame. And how dare someone lay a hand on Blaine? His Blaine? Kurt shakes his head at his weird thoughts. "Give me the wash cloth." He glares at Blaine until he hands it over and Kurt marches over to the bathroom.

Only the Andersons would have two master bedrooms.

Inside the white-tiled room, Kurt sees more evidence of what must have been a truly spectacular beating. The trashcan overflows with bloodied tissues and bandages, there are drops of blood in the shower that hadn't been washed away. Kurt tries to ignore all this and turns the sink on, soaking the washcloth with cold water.

The runoff is pink.

Kurt squeezes his eyes shut and fights back tears.

Blaine was always there for Kurt. It was Kurt's turn. And Blaine needed strength.

But Kurt still hated himself for not doing more.

When he has control of himself, and once he finds painkillers in the medicine cabinet, Kurt walks back into the bedroom.

Blaine is sitting up, though his head is down. He lifts it when Kurt sits in front of him.

"I brought Tylenol."

"I have to wait another two hours." Blaine sounds different. Defeated.

Kurt folds the washcloth carefully and holds it over the gash on Blaine's head. It follows Blaine's hairline for a few inches before twisting back up into his curls. "May I?" Kurt asks.

Blaine nods, and sighs almost imperceptibly when Kurt gently wipes the blood away. The silence stretches on as the white cloth turns pink.

Blaine breaks it.

"I'm sorry." Kurt stops for a second but resumes cleaning Blaine up. Blood had dripped down the side of his face and neck. "I wanted to go to school but I got hit really hard and didn't wake up until late and I didn't want to leave you alone because fucking Karofsky is there and I don't trust him at all but then you were texting me that you were here and I didn't want you to see me like this and—"

"Blaine."

He quiets, though Kurt sees a few tears leak out. A piece of his heart breaks.

"I didn't want you to know," Blaine repeats dully, staring at his fingers. "You had so much other stuff to deal with, and I just thought if I could help you I could forget my fucked up life and maybe I could be worth something."

Kurt lifts Blaine's chin. "Look at me." Blaine reluctantly lifts his good eye to Kurt's.

"I'm sorry I'm not perfect." Blaine whispers.

"I never expected you to be." Kurt finds himself moving to sit next to Blaine, arms wrapping around suddenly small shoulders. He ran his fingers through Blaine's curls. Blaine grabs his waist and buries his head in the crook of Kurt's shoulder.

They lay there for a while. Blaine shakes a little, but Kurt just keeps stroking Blaine's hair and singing softly.

"It's my dad." Blaine says into Kurt's skin.

Kurt tries to ignore the sudden rush of rage that swells up in his chest towards the faceless Mr. Anderson.

"My mom…we left him. Just before we came here. But he keeps coming back. He promised he changed but I didn't believe him. Mom did. And…she's happy. She's happy with him."

Kurt holds him tighter. Everything is falling into place.

"She doesn't know. It's never where it's visible and it's never when she's home. That's how the Andersons work. If it's not right in front of you, you ignore it and hide it and keep up appearances." Blaine scoffs. "But a divorce looks bad. And she stills love him. He beats her son—her gay son—all the time but she still loves him. And yeah, she left him once, but how can I ruin her happiness again?" Kurt's shirt is wet now and Blaine's shoulders shake. "I've already disappointed her because I'm gay, how can I take her husband away too?"

"Blaine…"

Blaine sits ups abruptly. "Don't. I didn't want you to know. Don't be upset. What you're going through is so much worse. I'm just being a bitch about it."

Kurt sees red. "God, shut up, Blaine! We're not comparing us!" He glares. "Blaine, I feel guilty because I've been seeing signs for weeks but I didn't want to force you to talk about because I know what keeping secrets is like. But I should have. Because this," Kurt waves his hand at Blaine's face. "Is not okay."

"It's fine, it's…" Blaine is very small. Kurt's knight in shining armor is reduced to a scared little boy just like him.

And Kurt doesn't care.

He actually thinks he loves Blaine more.

A sob suddenly escapes Blaine's mouth.

"I'm such a fuck-up I couldn't even protect you."

Oh. "Blaine, no…"

"It's my fault. I shouldn't have told you to stand up to Karofsky when I can't even stand up to my own father." Blaine's legs are drawn up tight against his chest and he hides his face in his knees.

Kurt wonders how long Blaine had felt like this. "Blaine, I don't blame you. I would have done something even if you hadn't given me courage." He puts his hand on Blaine's back but Blaine curls in smaller. "You saved me, Blaine. Let me save you. We can get through this." Blaine stills under his hand. "Please, let me help."

Blaine lifts his head, his eyes rimmed with red and tears. He sniffs ungracefully and grabs Kurt's hand. "Okay," he whispers.

Kurt can't hide his smile. "Do you want to stay at my house tonight?"

Blaine flinches. "Your father—"

"He'll understand."

Blaine's eyes shine with hope. Kurt decides he wants to see that expression every day and resolves to do his best to keep Blaine happy. That's love, isn't it?

Blaine blows his nose with a random tissue and lets out a small laugh. "God, we're a mess aren't we?" His lips twitch in a small smile.

"The worst kind," Kurt laughs, pulls Blaine to stand up. "Come on. Let's go."

They aren't perfect.

They have flaws.

But maybe they can save each other.