“Kurt honey, you need to wake up. Breakfast is ready.”

"Just five more minutes, mom."

“Hummel! Fucking hell, Kurt wake up!”

Wait, what?

Kurt tried to open his eyes, but his eyelids felt heavier than a bus so he just groaned, ignoring the voice trying to get a reaction from him.

“Come on, son, eat up and we’ll go out and practice your bicycle riding.”

“But ‘m already full…”

“Kurt this isn’t funny. Open your damn eyes already.”

“Can’t we just go out now?” mumbled Kurt tiredly, voice even more high-pitched than usual, but still lower somehow.

“Can you hear me? Kurt? You need to give me some sort of reaction here.” The voice sounded anxious and when the pale boy got his body violently shaken again he was finally able to regain just a little consciousness.

He managed to make out that he was lying on something warm and soft, and incredibly comfortable.

A bed? No that wasn’t it.

A lap?…Yes.

Kurt's eyes flew open when he realized that the upper half of his body was placed in someone's lap and tried to stand up. But his body wouldn’t let him, so instead he just rolled off of whomever it was, hitting his head in the cold floor as he did.

“Are you okay? What happened?”

His eyes widened even more when he recognized the voice and turned around to see its owner.

“What the fuck?” Kurt hissed, rubbing his somewhat sore head.

“You okay?” the male repeated.

“Why do you even care?” he snapped back.

“I just –you were passed out on the fucking floor and wouldn’t move a muscle, so of course I got a little concerned!” the hobbit defended and Kurt almost rolled his eyes.

“You don’t know me.”

“I know I don’t.” Frodo stated in what sounded like frustration. “Have I said I do?”

“Guess not.” Kurt muttered and stood up, only to totally lose his balance as he tried.

“Wow, hey, take it easy.”

“Get the fuck away from me.” Kurt warned, slapping the boy’s stretched out arms away, jaws clenching.

“How many times do I have to tell you? Stay the hell away from me.”

“You know what? You're a real ass. I just helped you when you were laying passed out on the floor while everyone else just walked by. I dragged you through the whole fucking school to find an empty bathroom, missing the beginning of class doing so.”

Kurt raised his eyebrows. He hadn’t really expected the other boy to be someone that cared about missing a few minutes in class.

“Yeah well I didn’t ask for your help.”

“No, you're right. But just so you know, you won’t get people to like you by being a total ass all the time.”

“I don’t need people to like me. Doin’ better without them anyway.”

“Not everyone are like the once in this school. There’re people out there who’re m –“

Kurt laughed. “I don’t need your freakin’ therapy.” he told him.

“And you're not that nice all the time either.” he pointed out, thinking of all the whispers he’d heard about the teen, the once that had made Kurt so angry because it apparently was so much easier for the other boy to get a reputation than it had been for him. “So don’t give me any of that nice crap.”

“Oh I can be nice when I want to, unlike you, who apparently have a stone to heart.”

“You don’t know me.” Kurt gave a little laughter again, completely clear of joy or kindness.

“Everyone in this school knows you, Hummel.” Frodo smiled sweetly before exiting the bathroom, purposely nudging Kurt’s shoulder with his own as he went.

Fucking liar. The cyan eyed boy thought to himself as he examined his face in the bathroom mirror. No one knows me.

Blaine sighed, frustrated with himself to no end.

He had to stop acknowledge that boy’s existence, just as he told him again and again.

But somehow he couldn’t, not all the time anyways.

It wasn’t as if Blaine could control it or anything, he’d never really been good at controlling his mind and stuff. But he just got really pissed that he couldn’t right now. ‘Cause there was no logic whatso-fucking-ever to why he continued to even acknowledge that jerk’s existence.

Kurt Hummel really was a jerk. A totally heartless jerk. That really summed up the boy’s behavior. Sure, Blaine wasn’t Mr. Nice Guy even near to half of the time, but it was still different with Kurt. Because that boy was just cold to his so called victims. He’d beat them up without caring the least that they were pleading, keep on kicking a person that was already on the ground without the slightest hesitation. Blaine had even heard that he’d gone so far as to beat one of the football jocks unconscious. And that was just going too far in Blaine’s eyes. Even if he’d done it standing up to one of the biggest bullies to ever walk the William McKinley corridors.

But Kurt ‘badass’ probably had a reason to behave like he did, Blaine kept thinking. He knew he, himself, had anyway.

 As the short male walked down the McKinley hallway, no one made eye contact with him. He’d just been at the school for about two or so weeks, but he’d never had any trouble with getting people to know his face, something he was forever grateful for.

The second he was out the doors and in the parking lot, he got the pack of cigarettes up from one of the many pockets in his leatherjacket, lit one of the few left and brought it to his lips, eagerly sucking the poisonous smoke down in his lungs. He could feel the affect the nicotine had on his body instantly and he sighed as he threw the cigarette butt to the ground seconds later.

He knew that it wasn’t good for him to smoke, everyone knew that after all, and he’d thought he’d be able to keep it under control, but of course he’d been wrong as always. And it wasn’t like it was a crime or anything. There were things he could do that were far worse. Things he’d dealt with before, but had managed to stop.

 As Blaine straddled his motorcycle he couldn’t keep a smug smile off his face, feeling the dreamy looks from the freshman girls that secretly admired him. He knew that they knew he was gay, and he knew that most of them didn’t care. It had come to his attention that some of them even thought it made the whole thing better too. Where the logic in that came from, he had no idea. It was all pretty fucked up in his mind.

But whatever, he had nothing against being the object for teenage girl crushes, as long as they didn’t come up to him and ask him to sign their panties or some weird shit like that.

As long as he was left just about completely alone, he’d be fine.

  “Blainy-boo? You’re home late today. How was school honey?” Blaine heard a high-pitched voice sing from the kitchen the second he sat foot in the house.

“Ehm, mom…?” he mumbled, approaching the tiny woman hesitantly. “You okay?”

“Yes, yes of course I’m okay, honey!” she beamed at him, and he couldn’t avoid noticing the slightly misty and sort of faraway look in her green eyes.

“Go wash your hands, sweetie, dad’ll be home soon.”

Blaine’s face fell, the rest of his everything following alongside with it.

Fuck. Not this shit again.

“Mom, dad’s not –“ Blaine cut himself off. He couldn’t bring himself to do anything about the situation. Today he’d just let it be.  He didn’t have the energy to do anything else.

“Quinn…?”

“Hm?” she looked up from her drawing.

“I –think I maybe, sort of want to talk to you about something…” Kurt mumbled quietly, looking down at his lap.

“…What?” she looked at him in surprise. Because ‘we need to talk’ wasn’t really something that he normally said. It was probably the first time she’d heard those words coming out of that boy’s mouth, actually.

“I –I think I need to.” he mumbled again, this time so quietly she could barely hear him.

“I think it’ll help…”

Shit… Why was he doing this? He knew he shouldn’t, deep down, knew it wasn’t good. But somehow it still felt like he needed it.  

“Yeah.” Quinn gave him a small, warm smile. “Yeah, I think it would.”

“But, I have no idea where to start.” Kurt hesitated for a second. “D’you think you could, like, help me or something? Ask me questions or something like that?”

“Ehm, sure.” she went silent for a second, taken aback by how tiny and helpless Kurt looked.

 Fuck. Quinn didn’t want to, he could feel it. She was getting uncomfortable. He shouldn’t do this. He was such a dumbass.

“Know what, forget it. Forget what I just said. It was a stupid idea–”

“No. Kurt, I want to do this. I want to help you. I'm just surprised that you asked, that‘s all.”

“…Okay.”

“So. Questions.” Quinn threw her sketchbook over her bed and tried to think of a good first question, one that didn’t require that much information.

“Do you have any idea what you told me about your parents when you blacked out that day? Or why it happened in the first place?”

Kurt hid his face behind his hands. He just couldn’t look at the girl at the moment. It was too weird.

“No. It just sort of did.”

Right. That didn’t really give her anything to work on for the next question. But it was something.

“Should I tell you what you said?” Maybe it’d be good for him to hear it.

“I –don’t know. Try.”

Quinn nodded. “It was sort of really slurred to I wasn’t able to catch much. But you said something about bicycle training and pancakes. And then it was things like ‘why did she leave?’ and ‘why did he do that?’”

Kurt could feel his lips turn into a little smile at the mentioning of the bicycle training. It was a quite strong memory for him now when he’d started to let himself remember.

“And… I don’t know what it was, but you mumbled a lot about that something was your fault and that he wouldn’t have died if it wasn’t for you.”

Kurt’s face fell behind his hands.

“And you don’t have to tell me but –who was it you talked about then?”

This was something, the only thing really, that he’d said that had bugged Quinn. It was sort of not possible to not think more of it when a friend like Kurt broke down and mumbled ‘I killed him. I killed him. It’s my fault.’ again and again. It was just something that really staid in your head.

 Kurt’s heart beat hard and insanely fast in his chest. Should he tell her? Would he be able to?

“You don’t have to tell me.” Quinn told him softly.

“No…No I need to.” Kurt sighed, trying to calm his nerves. “I …was talking ‘bout Blaine.”

“…Blaine? Blaine Anderson? But I –thought that you’d never met him before?”

 “No. I haven’t.” Kurt dropped his hands from his face then. “Blaine was my brother.” he smiled sadly.

What?

“Your –but… You never told me you had a brother.” Quinn breathed.

“No I’ve… sort of avoided thinking of him the last years.”

Kurt’s head spun like crazy. Why the fuck was he talking about this voluntarily?

“What happened?” she asked carefully, not wanting to push Kurt too far.

He wanted to tell her. He did. He’d finally accepted that he needed to talk about things, some things at least, but he just couldn’t form his lips the right way to get the words out. So instead he ripped out a page from one of his schoolbooks from the stack beside his mattress, wrote the only thing he could manage to write down on it and passed it to Quinn, who had somehow moved herself from her bed to sit down just at the end of Kurt’s. When it had happened her had no idea.

 ‘Fire.’ Read the girl. And now when she thought about it, he had mentioned something about it being too hot and bright.

“Kurt –“ she whispered. Her whole existence itched with curiosity. She wanted to know more of what had happened, and preferably right away. But she would just have to wait. The last thing she wanted to do was to push Kurt now when he’d actually opened up the situation with ‘I want to talk’.

“I think that’ll be it for now.” Kurt sighed heavily. “I’m beat, think I’ll just go to sleep.”

“What about Scandals?”

“Right… Forget it. I’ll just skip tonight.” he mumbled.

Shit. He was really acting weird, wasn’t he?

“Hey Quinn,” Kurt mumbled as she stood up.

“Yeah?”

“…Thank you for listening.” he smiled. He actually smiled and said thank you.

“You're scaring me…” she muttered and Kurt suppressed a smile.

“Shut up prego.”