After sitting in the waiting room for about two to three hours, a nurse came out to them and told them what was going to happen.

  Quinn was going to stay at the hospital overnight; the doctors felt like they wanted to be able to have a look on her; falling down those stairs had given her a concussion, not super serious, but still enough to make them want to be able to oversee her overnight. The woman didn’t mention the baby at all, which made the pair in the waiting room quite worried.

  Kurt had troubles breathing. He was so worried, so nervous. And so, so sad for the young girl. And he was so sure that Quinn really was family now.

  “What?” he said absently when he found himself back in reality again, realizing that both the nurse and Santana was trying to get a reaction out of him.

  “You can go see her if you want,” said the nurse, seemingly repeating herself. “she’s asking for you.”

  “For me?”

  “For both of you,” smiled the very kind looking woman.

  “How’d’she know I was here?” Kurt said, trying to get his eyes to focus on the person he was talking to. He didn’t get a reply however, or he just didn’t hear it, it was hard for him to be certain. As he tried to stand up and follow Santana to the room where Quinn was currently located, he couldn’t get his legs to lift him. He just couldn’t. Because… because this was… this was where he’d…

   “She was already so weak and giving birth is always hard…”

  This was where his mother had drawn her last breath.

  This place… this place was evil. It had to be. Whenever something happened in his life, something that left another mark in him, in his heart or wherever it was, it was because of this place. It happened in or around this place. And now… now something had happened again, and it was here. He was here again, and he was holding back tears again.

  “Kurt? What’s up?” Santana said, grabbing his arm to prevent him from falling.

  “N –nothing. Nothing, I’m fine.”  Kurt mumbled, blinking hard, angrily trying to get his damn eyes to focus and his brain to calm the fuck down. “Just –you go ahead and I’ll be right there, ‘kay?”

  “You sure?” Santana was trying her best to not get worried, but it was hard; the Kurt in front of her right now was so unlike any other version she’d seen of him before.

  “Yes, get your ass to Quinn’s room.” he said, widening his eyes as much as possible before screwing them shut tightly again. “And leave the door open so I know where you are or whatever.” he called as Santana finally agreed to leave him alone.

   And so, he was left alone in the waiting room. Being alone in a hospital, or at least in an area or room of a hospital, always seemed a bit creepy, and not being able to see properly just made it all worse.

   “Say hello to your baby brother, Kurt,”

   His aunt’s voice rang through his head. He saw ghosts of her, his father and himself, walking past his present self, his aunt holding the new-born baby in her arms.

  Kurt’s chest became empty and heavy feeling, his head throbbing with the memories of what had went through the head of his seven year old self as they’d walked through the mostly empty hospital building all those years from now.

  “It shouldn’t be just us,” Kurt mumbled to himself, repeating words he’d said such a long time ago, his hands twisting around each other. “Mom should be here too, daddy,”

  An unnoticed tear rolled down his pale cheek, the feelings of that moment all those years ago coming back to him with such force, seeming so very real, he might as well have been that little boy again, that little boy who had just lost his mother and a baby brother.

   Kurt chuckled, shaking himself free from the painful, useless, memories; he had more important stuff to do at the moment that just sitting around moping.

  He stood up on legs that still felt a little weak, but strong enough for him to be able to ignore it, and started walking down the corridor Santana had disappeared down minutes earlier.

He found an open door after walking for barely a minute. He hesitated. He could hear murmuring voices from inside the room, too quiet for Kurt to hear the words. He wasn’t sure if this was a good idea. Maybe he should just leave? No. No, that was completely out of the question. Quinn needed him right now, and for once he wasn’t going to run away.

   Wiping his face with his hands and clearing his throat as silently as he could, Kurt took a small step forward and it was too late to turn back; both Quinn and Santana had seen him.

  Something was… off. Something wasn’t right. They were… both of them, they were…

  “Why are you…? Why are you smiling?” Kurt asked in slight confusion.

  “C’m’ere,” Quinn said, both sounding and looking absolutely exhausted, but her smile was bright and her eyes seemed almost alight.

  “What’s goin’ on?” said Kurt, pulling an uncomfortable looking plastic chair up to the unoccupied side of the hospital bed in which Quinn was laying and sitting down. “Why’re you smiling?” He said this with a faint smile himself, because Quinn looked so happy and, just, relieved.

  “She’s okay,” Quinn said, her eyes becoming glazier than they already were.

  “She?” he echoed, dumbfounded, but still feeling a kind of warmth growing in his chest, because was she saying what he thought she was saying?

  “The baby,” It looked almost as if the girl’s face threatened to break in two from how hard she was smiling. “she’s okay. Still growing, still fine.” Quinn looked down on her growing belly with such love in her eyes, Kurt could only stare. An almost completely forgotten memory from his distant childhood, a memory in which his mother sat on the living room couch, just looking at her round belly, as if it was the most beautiful thing she’d ever seen, popped into his head. At the time he’d been confused, yet still feeling happy because his mother looked so blissful, because it was only a belly, her belly. She couldn’t actually see her un-born children, so why did she look like that?

  To be honest, Kurt still wasn’t completely sure how it worked –he’d never been pregnant, and he’d sort of forgotten how it felt just letting yourself love another individual unconditionally.

  “Wait,” Kurt said. “you said she. How do you know it’s a she?”

  Quinn shrugged. “Just a feeling,”

 “You’re showing,” Santana murmured after a while of silence, almost as lovingly as Quinn herself. Quinn’s eyes twinkled at her friend, both her hands gently stroking her growing belly.

  Kurt found himself with his eyebrows raised high on his forehead; what had happened to the two of them? Heck –what had happened to all three of them?

  “We’re so lame,” he said absently and Quinn laughed gently.

  “We are.” she agreed, yawning.

  “You should sleep,” Santana said, straightening her back.

  Quinn shook her head, but her eyelids were looking heavy and her breathing was becoming more and more slow and drawn out.

  “Bullshit,” Santana said gently. (There was so much gentle in the room, it was insane. Maybe that’s what happens when there’s a baby in the room, born or not.) She stood up, leaned in and kissed Quinn’s forehead. “I’ll come and pick you up tomorrow, ‘kay?”

  “Thank you, San,” mumbled the other girl sleepily, eyes closed.

  “You coming?” Santana said before leaving the room, her attention turned to Kurt.

  “Hm–wha –me?” Kurt sat up from where he'd laid with the side of his face rested against the bed. Santana rolled her eyes.

  “Duh?” she said.

  “Yeah, sure, but um –in a minute.” He didn’t want to leave just yet. “I drove here, so don’t worry ‘bout it.”

  Santana nodded and closed the door, leaving the two friends alone.

  “How’s things?” Quinn asked him, sounding more awake than she had before.

  “Don’t worry, just rest and I’ll be gone when you wake up.”

  “Don’t be a dick.” she said, eyes still closed. “Tell me what’s up.”

  “I said don’t worry ‘bout it –“

  “And I said don’t be a dick. Don’t make me repeat myself.”

  “You already have,” said Kurt with a playful smile. Quinn hit his arm lazily.

  “Come on, I know that breathing,”

  “My breathing?” Kurt raised an eyebrow.

  “Yes, it’s the breathing telling me that there’s something on your mind.”

  “I should really file a restraining order.”

  “You should,” Quinn turned her head towards Kurt and opened her eyes. “But first, you tell me what it is.”

  Kurt sighed. “I seriously have no idea how and where to start.” He bent forward and rested his forehead to the side of the bed again. “And this isn’t the time, you just nearly lost your baby and you have a concussion.”

  “And if you don’t stop talking bullshit I’ll have a headache as well. Look,” She took hold of Kurt’s head and lifted it up so she could look at him. “I agree that this isn’t the best time, and that I’m not at my best right now, but you’re still important to me, baby or not, I still count you as family. And I’m going to stop now because I don’t want to get puke on my fabulous hospital gown.”

  Kurt laughed a little laugh that sounded more like an… appreciative snort. He’d missed this; the two of them, their conversation, the way Quinn just… got him. How she always seemed to know what to say and when to say it.

  “I’m having boy trouble.” he whined then, trying to joke, though the joke turned out to be pretty true.

  “Boy trouble? You?” Quinn said in amusement. “What happened? Some hottie turned you down?” Clearly Quinn had seen the joke, but just the joke, and tried to keep it going.

  “No –‘some hottie’ is seriously getting on my nerves because he’s always on my mind and, one, I have no idea why and two, he shouldn’t be.”

   “…Who is it?” Quinn said, a little bit slower than normally, like she was still unsure whether Kurt was just playing with her or if it was actually true; not like that had been unexpected, given the fact that ‘boy trouble’ wasn’t normally a part of his dictionary.

  “Guess,” Kurt muttered, wanting to set himself on fire or something because how could he even be have this conversation?

  “I have absolutely no clue.” Quinn said, dumbstruck to no end as it started to dawn on her that this seemed to be legit.
  Kurt Hummel was having actual boy trouble.

  What’d be next, the apocalypse?

  “I’ll help you,” Kurt sighed. “He’s a hobbit and I hate him.”

   Quinn sat up straight in the hospital bed, eyes widening.

   “No,” she said, astonished, a big, still pretty confused, grin on her lips.

  “Shut up,”

  “Blaine? Blaine Anderson?” Quinn said, choking her laughter. “Are you serio –ouch!” Kurt had hit her hard on her leg, since that was the body part closest to him.

  “Don’t hit a girl when she’s in a hospital bed.” said the girl in mock-hurt.

  “You deserved it,” Kurt just muttered, refusing to look at her.

  “Oh come on, Kurt, you can’t blame me for being surprised here,” she said, collecting herself. "I mean, not only are you having boy trouble –which is pretty damn out of character for you –But Blaine? I mean, that’s just…”

  “I know, I know, I hate it too.” Kurt sighed. “And it’s not boy trouble, so stop calling it that. It was just me… trying to joke my way out of my… situation.”

  “Mhm,” Quinn smiled knowingly at him. “So if it’s not boy trouble, then what is it?”

  “I don’t know,” Kurt sat up and did a wild gesture with his arms, feeling irritated that this situation was even actually happening. “I just –fuck it. Never mind.” He tried to make a move to leave, but Quinn grabbed his arm, pulling him down on the plastic chair again.

  “Oh, nu-uh, don’t you leave me here without telling me what you really want to tell me. Don’t be a dick. Sit your ass down and tell me what’s goin’ on.”

  “I’m just having trouble getting him out of my head,” Kurt stared at his hands, regretting that he’d decided to talk about it. Saying it all out loud just made it more real, and more… freaky.

  “You’re just having trouble getting him out of your head?” Quinn repeated, unable to stop another smile from forming on her lips. “Don’t tell me that you’re actually falling for the guy?”

  “I’m not falling for him!” Kurt snapped.

  “No? That’s what it sounds like to me.” Quinn saw Kurt’s jaws starting to work under his pale skin and immediately tried to think of another way to… handle the situation. “Okay, okay, sorry, I’m being an ass –“

  “Oh are you? I didn’t notice.” Kurt cut off.

  “Okay, how about both of us just try and behave like adults for a second?” She felt like that would be necessary if they wanted to be able to move forwards with the conversation.

  “Whatever,” muttered Kurt after a moment, and Quinn knew that that was his way to agree with her.

  “Tell me how this all started.” she said in an attempt to seem more… mature, like she knew exactly how to handle the conversation even though she’d never found herself saying half the things she was saying now, especially not to Kurt.

  Rolling his eyes at the look on his friend’s face, he tried to suffocate all the snarky comments that wanted to be used at the moment and just said:

  “No idea.”

  “Okay,” Now it was Quinn’s turn to roll her eyes. “Would you care to give me a bit more than that to work with?”

  “Look, I have no idea what’s happening. I just know that there’s all these things running through my brain all the time that makes me want to do all kinds of crazy shit –“

  “Like what?”

  Kurt shrugged. “Like, stop fucking around –though I’ve closed to stopped that already ever since –“ He stopped himself. Quinn didn’t know just how much her moving out had changed him, and he felt as one confession was enough for one day. And, luckily enough, she didn’t ask him to finish the sentence, but just sat there and waited for him to find the right words to continue.  

  “I don’t know…” he mumbled, going back to staring at his hands, trying to fathom his thoughts and make them into words. “He told me all these things to stop me from leaving –“

  “Leaving where?”

  “His… ehm… his house,”

  “You were in his house?”

  “For about a week,” he admitted hesitantly.

  “A week?”

  “I was, uhm, I was sick…”

  “So you just called Blaine on your non-existing cell and asked him to pick you up?” Quinn asked with a puzzled, yet amused, sort of look on her face.

  “He found me in our –my apartment and thought it was his duty or something to drive me to his house and take care of me.”

  “I’m not even going to ask what he was doing there, but… wow, you’d never guess it from the way he acts when he’s at school.”

  Kurt shrugged, not knowing what to say. And apparently, Quinn didn’t either, but after a moment she remembered what Kurt was about to tell her.

  “What’d he tell you?”

  “Hm?”

  “What’d he tell you when you were trying to leave?”

  “I don’t…” he sighed. “He was basically just telling me that he thought about me too and that he thought cheesy thoughts whenever I was around, or something.” He shrugged again, pretending like he didn’t remember every word and like he didn’t really care.

  When he looked up at the girl in the bed, he saw that her chin had dropped basically to the floor.

  “What?” he asked.

  “He… Kurt, you do realize that he basically told you that he was falling for you too, right?”

  “I’m not stupid,” he replied irritably. “And I’m not falling for him!” He added, only to make Quinn roll her blue eyes at him again.

  “You know, I’m fine with you denying whatever bond we have between us more than half of the time, but you gotta stop denying what’s happening between you two.”

  “You don’t know anything about what’s ‘happening between us’.” Kurt snapped.

  “I know that Santana’s convinced that you’re Blaine’s new fuck buddy and that there’s obviously something more to the way you guys look at each other.”

  “New fuck buddy? And what do you mean about us looking at each other?”

  “Sebastian, remember?” Quinn refreshed his mind, and to his frustration, the idea of Blaine being with that snake kinda made his chest knot a little with anger and… jealousy?

  “Whatever,” he muttered again.

  “How did you react?”

  “How did I react to what?”

  “To Blaine telling you… what he told you.”

  “I, um…” Kurt felt the back of his neck getting warm. Shit. What was he supposed to say now? ‘Oh, yeah, I escaped to his bathroom only to come back down and start to make out with him. No biggie, really.’ Fucking hell, this was an unpleasant conversation.

  “Kurtieee,” Quinn sang, seeing the embarrassment he was trying to hide. “What did you dooo?”

  “I got weird and my brain stopped working and –“

  “The actual event, if you please?”

  “I kissed him, okay?” Kurt snapped, the warmth spreading up his neck and to the tip of his ears.

  “Shut up!” Quinn gasped.

  “Goddamn it Quinn, you can’t use language like that or I’ll have to stop talking to you.” he muttered, trying to lead her thoughts away from The Kiss Situation.

  “Ha-ha,” the girl just responded sarcastically. “But seriously, you kissed him?”

  “I did,” Kurt mumbled. “I don’t… it was totally different too, like, not like when –“

  “You’re fucking some random guy at Scandals, I get it,” she rolled her eyes. “Of course it wasn’t the same.”

  “Why?”

  “Because you obviously have feelings for him.” she just replied matter-of-factly.

  “I don…” He stopped himself.

  “Then why did you kiss him, and why are you sitting here right now, trying to figure things out with my help?”

  “Because he came around again earlier today and went off saying all this crazy shit, like, how we should just stop pretending and shit… And then the fucking prick kissed me again –“

  “I thought you were the one who kissed him last time?” Quinn smirked playfully at him. Kurt didn’t seem to appreciate the joke, though.

  “Seriously Quinn, I need your help,”

  “With what?”

  “With what I’m supposed to do to get this feeling in my chest go away and what I can do to make my brain stop thinking about him.”

  “There’s nothing I can do.” Quinn said honestly, then, “You’ve seriously never felt this way before?”

  Kurt shook his head gloomily.

  “I’m no expert, Kurt, but I think that right now you gotta stop focusing on how shitty the situation is, because it won’t make it any better.” She could feel her eyelids getting heavier and heavier, but was determined to be there for Kurt now when he’d come to see her for help.

  “I also think you need to just sit down and ask yourself what it is you want of him.”

  “I don’t want anything from him,”

  “Do you want to, I don't know, maybe… be in a relationship with him?” she asked carefully, ignoring Kurt’s past statement, as she was pretty convinced that that was a white lie.

  Kurt shot up straight in his chair. “I don’t want to be in a relationship with him!” he hissed.

  “Then what do you want?” Quinn asked, trying to be gentle.

  “What do I want?” Kurt repeated numbly, sinking back to resting his arms on the white bed and his chin to his arms.

  Quinn nodded. She knew it was probably wrong of her to, but she felt happy, happier than she already was, because maybe, Kurt would be able to be strong enough to actually stop turning his back on what she was pretty sure were very true and very real feelings for that hobbit-sized boy. And, if it was true that Blaine was dumb enough to feel the same, and if he could actually help Kurt in ways she never could, she would forgive him completely for setting the cops on her and her friends all those years ago.

  “I want…” Kurt sighed beside her, sending her back to reality. “I want to get really, really drunk, forget everything about this shit and pretend like my life is perfect.” he said in an attempt to seem ignorant. A couple of moments silence followed, then he sighed heavily, shaking his head.

  “I have no idea what I want. I know that I want to be able to figure out what I want, and I know that if a talk… I might say something I’ll regret.” He smiled sadly, and Quinn noticed that what he’d just told her was the truth.

  “You’re afraid you’ll hurt him?”

  He blew air out of his nose, the sad smile still on his lips. “I don’t know, maybe… Or I’m just afraid I’ll do the absolute opposite and end up fucking the situation up even more.”

  “How do you mean?”

  “I mean that if I tell him what’s going on in my head, he might think that we’re a couple, and then I’ll have to tell him that we’re not, and I’ll end up hurting him anyway.”

  “You’re really sweet, you know that?” Quinn said, unable to help herself. Kurt groaned.

  “I’m not,”

  “You are, you’re so not this heartless ass you make everyone believe you are.”

  Kurt sighed and shrugged. “I can try, right?”

  It was true, though. Kurt wasn’t heartless, not completely anyway, and he kinda knew that. But he wanted to be heartless, since that would cause him the least amount of pain. He wanted to be heartless, since he wasn’t sure how to feel anyway.

  “You know what I think you should do?” Quinn decided.

  “Not write him a song and serenade him, I hope?”

  “No,” She rolled her eyes. “You should let yourself be sweet, and let yourself actually feel what you’re feeling towards that idiot.”

   “I should not.” Kurt said sternly.

   “Why not?”

  “Because then I’ll just freak out or end up with all this… crazy stuff that happens to me whenever I’m not at least ninety percent in control of myself.”

  “And is that so bad? Remembering –feeling? Is that the worst that could happen?”

  “No,” he admitted. “but what I’ll probably end up trying to do to get rid of it isn’t good now, is it?”

  “It really isn’t.” Quinn said, thinking back on the time she’d been sitting in the back of an ambulance, holding Kurt’s limp hands in her own shaking ones, trying to understand what the doctors were telling her. She really didn’t want that to happen again.

  She sighed. “Then what are you going to do? Because if you thought you could just go on ignoring all this, you wouldn’t have come here.”

  “I hate how well you know me sometimes.” Kurt groaned. “But I think there isn’t much else I can do.”

  “There is one thing.” Quinn said slowly after a moment of thinking.

  “What?”

  “Just –talk to him. Drive to his place from here instead of back to the apartment. Knock on the door and, just, talk.”

  “Well that’s a genius plan.” Kurt rolled his eyes. “Did you come up with that all by your little self?”

  Quinn hit him on the arm. “I’m serious, asshole. Just talking helps sometimes.”

  “Yeah, well not this time. We’ve already talked twice about… stuff, and it didn’t get us anywhere.”

  “That’s because you’re a close-minded dummy.” she said simply. “And if you don’t think it’ll lead to anything, there really isn’t much else I can come up with.”

  Kurt sighed for about the millionths time today, straightened up, and said, “Thanks, though. It’s been nice talking to you.”

  “Yeah, you too,” Quinn said.

  “Just try to be less worthless next time, okay?” he said with a little wink just before closing the door to let her rest.

  “You too, asshole,” she said with a little yawn, finally closing her eyelids and going to a needed sleep, her hands finding their way back to her growing belly.

Kurt didn’t go back to Blaine’s house. He didn’t care what Quinn said; talking wouldn’t solve anything. Talking never had solved anything for him. Singing had, sometimes, but he hadn’t felt like picking up his precious guitar or even let a single note leave his lips in months. Maybe because of all that had happened. Maybe because he’d just lost interest. Maybe because his mind was full of so many thoughts, singing about any of it was impossible.

  What he did do, however, was drive to scandals later that evening. He hadn’t been there since he was there with Blaine, but now he felt like going. That was a good sign, he thought. His old self was starting to come back. Maybe he wouldn’t have to worry about Blaine anymore either, maybe the autopilot in his brain would lock the feelings away in the same cage as the memories and feelings from before.

    The old, fat man at the door who was supposed to be the guard or whatever who made everyone who looked particularly young show their ID, let him in without even looking at him. As far as Kurt knew, he never asked anyone for their ID, would probably let in a twelve-year-old, if a twelve-year-old would be stupid enough to think going to Scandals was a smart move. He’d even been asleep once or twice when Kurt had been there. If he was the best that place could find, Kurt really wanted to meet the other once who’d come for the job interview, if there’d even been one.

  He felt an instant feeling of relief the second he set foot in the dark, loud room. There were a few more people than usually; he even spotted a couple of completely un-known faces. Kurt smirked. It was huntin’ time.

  Half an hour later, Kurt was only a tiny bit drunk, just enough to make him feel sexy and confident again, since he’d stopped being able to feel that way without alcohol in his system at some point these last couple of months. Man, things really had gotten fucked up since Blaine’d forced himself into Kurt’s life, into his head, and maybe, maybe, even into his heart.

  “Pull yourself together. This isn’t why you’re here.” Kurt mumbled to himself.

  Not too far from him, there stood a rather good looking blonde guy, who’d spotted Kurt himself. The guy looked fairly young, but not too young. He had some experience, for sure, which was a must –Kurt didn’t do virgins; they were too nervous, too unsure. They were too much like Kurt’d been himself the first time he’d set foot in Scandals, and he’d rather let those memories stay locked away together with the rest.

  “Hey there, sexy,” smiled the guy smugly once Kurt had walked over to him. Kurt only nodded in responds before grabbing the front of his gray tank top and dragged him towards the club’s bathroom. As usual, it was crowded with pairs (and one or two groups of three) of men of various ages. As he swept his eyes around the room quickly he spotted two men, or a boy and a rather old man. He quickly looked away. Boys that young and men that old always made him feel sick. Manly because it stirred memories in his mind, memories that he hated even more than the ones of his family.

  Just as always, every single one of the closable stalls were taken. Kurt turned around to see if there was enough space anywhere for him and…

  “What’s your name?”

  “Um, Jim.” said the guy with the gray tank top.

  “That’s not really your name, is it?” Kurt smirked knowingly. He knew the look in ‘Jim’s’ eyes.

  “No.” answered Jim confidently.

  “At least you're honest,” Kurt said as he continued scanning along the walls of the crowded bathroom. Seriously, there were probably more people in here than out on the dance floor.

  Fags really do love their sex, he thought to himself, finally seeing a spot where they could fit, not caring that maybe he would have to stand literally shoulder to shoulder with someone else.

  Kurt stopped dead in the middle of the room.

  Shit.

  There, just by one of the dirty bathroom sinks, stood Blaine.

  Kurt could feel his heartbeat picking up speed. Why did Blaine always have to be at Scandals when Kurt wanted nothing more than to not see him?

  Blaine was resting his head against the wall, his eyes closed, mouth hanging slightly open. And, without his control, Kurt looked down.

  He shouldn’t have been surprised, really, but he couldn’t stop his heart from stopping in his chest for a second.

  Kneeling on the floor just in front of Blaine, was some guy, his head between his legs, the hair on whoever-he-was’s  head jumping a little as his head bobbed back and forth repeatedly.

  Kurt’s insides suddenly hurt. They hurt really badly.

  Without looking at ‘Jim’, or even apologizing himself for a second, Kurt stormed across the room, grabbed the kneeling strangler’s jacket and dragged him back up to his feet.

  “Kurt–!” Blaine gasped in surprise, tucking himself back into his pants and re-zipping his zipper.  

  Kurt barely heard him though, his head was filled with a distant sort of ringing, making everything around him, everything but that motherfucking pig that’d had his hands and mouth all of over his Frodo, completely unimportant. He was seeing red, if you were to put it that way.

  “What the fuck do you think you’re doing you fucking cocksucker?” jelled Kurt, not even noticing how nearly everyone in the room stopped whatever they happened to be doing (or whoever they happened to be doing) to stare at the three of them. The guy who’d called himself Jim had backed up somewhere in a corner, but that didn’t matter; Kurt didn’t even remember him.

  “Well, I think” said the guy in front of him, wiping his mouth with the back of his hands, smiling. “I was doing just that –sucking his cock.”

  The anger and the weird pain in Kurt’s chest doubled. He was too angry to notice the way Blaine was staring at him; too angry to notice how everyone in the room was now staring at him; too angry to notice what he was doing or what he was feeling. Too angry to think.

  Kurt kicked his right knee in the other guy’s stomach with maybe a bit too much force. Who-ever-it-was sunk to the floor with a little whimper, but apparently he was tougher than he looked. Or he was just too fucking stupid to know that it would probably be best if he just backed off.

  “You know, I like tough as much as the other guy, but you really gonna have to try harder than that.” he moaned from the floor, lifting himself up to sit on his knees. Faces were popping up by the door now, getting curious and wanting to see what was happening; Scandals was usually such a dull place, fights that involved more than maybe a slap to the face were more than rare, so when there was actually an actual fight, most of the regulars didn’t want to miss out on it.

  Gritting his teeth, not noticing any of this, Kurt hit the guy, whom he still didn’t know the name of, right in the face. Kurt’s jaws were clenching tightly, his eyes wide open, staring down at the guy kneeling in front of him. He was dead. So fucking dead, and Kurt wasn’t even sure why. He was just so fucking angry at this person he couldn’t contain himself. He kicked, picked up and punched and kicked, picked up and punched again and again without control, one of the most warped parts of his mind grinning as his punches started bringing blood.

   Apparently, someone had called security, because suddenly, someplace far, far away, Kurt heard strain, loud voices, ordering people to get out of the way.

  “Kurt –Kurt come on, don’t make this –“

  “Fuck you!” Kurt just shouted at who had to be Blaine, since, as far as he knew, that was the only person that knew his name in the room.

  Suddenly the voices got louder and then they were talking directly to Kurt, and as far as he could hear, the told him that he needed to step away from the guy he was beating. Kurt ignored these orders completely. They just didn’t matter in his brain at the moment. All that mattered was beating this piece of fucking shit as badly as he could while he still had a chance.

   Firm hands suddenly got hold of both of Kurt’s hand and they were forced to his back, and before he had the chance to hit the fucker’s face with the back of his head, a strong arm got wrapped around his forehead and his head got bent backwards and held against the person’s chest.

  Kurt managed to kick the guy on the floor, whose face had now gone bloody and pretty swollen from all the punches it had received, one last time, this time hitting him in the side. He hoped he managed to break or at least seriously injure at least one rib, and the fact that his boots were steel-toed heightened that chance quite a lot; this gladdened Kurt, his mind completely warped in rage and the need to just hurt.

  He was led through the club and roughly pushed outside, someone yelling furiously at him. Kurt didn’t hear a word of it. The fact that he was now breathing fresh air again made everything come back into focus again, and he began to realize what had just happened.

  “What the fuck, Kurt?” he whispered to himself in panic. “What the fuck? This isn’t supposed to be you anymore. You’re supposed to be able to stop. What the fuck –“

  He began phasing back and forth on the dark parking lot, trying to breathe deep breathes.

  This was bad. So very fucking bad. He’d fucked up again. He’d fucked everything up again. He could never do anything right. He always destroyed every-fucking-thing he touched, everything he even came near.

Someone called security.

Finally, someone called security.

Finally, there came people who could handle the situation without making it worse.

Finally, there was someone who could force Kurt to stop what he was doing.

Finally.

  Blaine couldn’t remember the last time he’d been this scared. It’d probably been that night when his life became Hell on Earth. That night he’d almost gotten killed by those homophobic fucktards. That night, though, he hadn’t been just scared. He’d been absolutely furious too. Or, he’d been absolutely furious before he’d gotten too weak and too numb to feel anything.

  Now though, he was scared. He was so, so scared. Because… Because Kurt’s eyes had been so wild, his movement and his body language so full of hate, and what scared him the most was that Richard had been a total stranger to Kurt. If Kurt hadn’t been to New York and had somehow met the guy, the two had never seen each other before. And yet… Yet Kurt would’ve probably beaten the guy to death if someone hadn’t stepped in.

  There hadn’t been anyone in the room who’d stepped in, no one who’d tried to stop Kurt. Blaine didn’t blame them though. He really didn’t. Because he hadn’t. He hadn’t dared to. Kurt had been… too out of control, too driven by his blind anger, Blaine wouldn’t have stood a chance. No way he could ever win in a fight against a wild animal.

  But… This wasn’t the only thing that scared him. It wasn’t just Kurt’s anger that alarmed him. It was the reason for that anger. The reason had been him. It had been Blaine’s fault. Or, no, of course it hadn’t been his fault, but it had had to do with him, he knew that. If Richard hadn’t been at Scandals this particular night, nothing would’ve happened to him. It had nothing to do with Richard himself, it had to do with what he’d been doing to Blaine. That had been the reason to Kurt’s anger. Richard was giving Blaine a blowjob and Kurt saw it.

  Maybe, in a different situation, Blaine would feel calm, because now he knew how Kurt was actually feeling, despite however much he was trying to hide it, or despite however little Kurt was actually aware of his feelings, now Blaine knew that they existed, for sure. But, unfortunately enough, this wasn’t a different situation. This was the situation where Kurt had beaten a guy really, really badly, a guy who was a total stranger to him, all because of the physical contact between said guy and Blaine.

  That was… scary. It honestly was.

 But, it didn’t make the feelings he was experiencing himself leave him even the slightest little tiny bit. It didn’t make them stronger, it just made them… feel even more… real, somehow, however weird that might be.

   It took Blaine several minutes before he calmed himself down enough (and to muster up enough courage, to be honest) before he headed for the exit of the night club to search for Kurt.

   It didn’t take him long to find him. The second he set foot outside and drew in as much of the wonderfully cold night air into his lungs as physically possible, he saw him. He was sitting on the back of his pick-up truck, his legs moving up and down in that gesture that looked so stressed and nervous and that was so terribly infectious, faster than he knew was possible.

  “Kurt,” Blaine called uncertainly.

  Kurt shot up and stared at Blaine, who stopped, his heart making a little jump, the kind of jump that really wasn’t the good kind.

  Come on, Blaine, don’t be such a pussy. You can’t be afraid of him, stop being so stupid.

  Kurt, on the other hand, didn’t stop; he jumped down from the car’s backside and took seven long steps until he stood just in front of Blaine. Blaine was just about to open his mouth and say something, when a fist hit him in the face.

  “What the fuck, Kurt –?” he gasped, grabbing hold of his sore nose.

  “Why did you do it?” hissed Kurt, and for a tiny second Blaine thought that, shit, maybe Kurt hadn’t calmed down enough yet; then he saw his eyes.  They were… desperate, panicking, lost, scared, eyes. This got him into a loss of words. He didn’t even attempt saying anything, knew he would just end up looking stupid as he failed at getting anything else than small sighs and stuttered I’s and ehm’s to leave his lips.

  “Was it to get back at me?”

  “To get back at you?” Blaine had to ask then, puzzled.

  “Yes,” Kurt answered irritably. “to get back at me for not –I don’t know, for not responding to our past conversations the way you wanted me to –or something?” He ended up making it sound like a question, and Blaine saw how, as he said it aloud, he realize how dumb and Over Dramatic Schoolgirl-ish it sounded.

   Kurt looked down at his boots, biting his lip. (which made him look very, very kinda cute)

  “I don’t…” he trialed off immediately, sighed, then, after closing his eyes for a moment, looked back up at Blaine, only to look away again after a second, clearly losing the words he was about to say the second he looked at him. Blaine knew that feeling all too well, and it actually made him feel a tiny bit… warm, that it happened to Kurt too.

   “I’m so…” Kurt sighed, frustrated. “I’m so fucking confused.”

   “Why?”

   Kurt looked back at him. “Because of this, clearly,” he gestured between the two of them. “and, because of what just happened.”

   “I can really see that,”

   “I couldn’t… I had no control over it.”

   “I know, but that doesn’t make it any less not okay.”

   “I know that,” Kurt said, a little irritably. “And I am so not ready to talk about any of it yet.”

   “I completely understand.” assured Blaine honestly, also feeling a bit relieved, as he wasn’t sure if he was completely ready to talk about it either just yet.

   “I do think we should talk about it though,” mumbled Kurt, trying to sound casual. Blaine eyed him suspiciously.

  “You do?” he asked.

  “Yes.” he bit the inside of his lower lip. “I’ll be ready tomorrow, and if you're not you’ll just have to deal with it, because we need to talk.”

  “We already talked.” Blaine couldn’t help himself, though he wasn’t very serious.

  “I know.” Kurt nodded once. “But now we need to talk.”

  “Okay.”

  “Tomorrow.”

  “Okay.”

  “You need to go now because I don’t think I can hold back the urge to kiss you much longer.”

  “…What?” Blaine’s eyes just about doubled in size.

  “I said I want to kiss you, and if you don’t leave now, I–”

  “Yeah, I… heard that bit,” Blaine cut off. “but… what?” His heartbeat was unmistakably picking up its speed. 

  “I have absolutely no clue,” Kurt sighed, and closed the space between them, pressing his lips to Blaine’s.

 Blaine almost let out an audible whimper, because the kiss was so… real. So gentle and so, so longed for, that now when it was finally here, his entire body nearly ached with relief.

The kiss wasn’t confused or unsure; the kiss wasn’t forced or awkward. It just… was. It felt so amazingly natural it made him want to just lock himself away somewhere so he could be alone with this amazing feeling of total bliss.

  Somewhere in his racing mind, there was a bit of his consciousness that told him that he shouldn’t be feeling so utterly happy, because what had happened only minutes earlier had still happened. The consequences of Kurt’s actions were still unknown, and so was the state of Richard.

But at that moment, it really didn’t matter. He just… He wanted to stay in this moment forever, stay in the feeling of Kurt’s lips moving with his own. He wanted to stay in the feeling of Kurt’s hands running through his hair, gently pulling every few seconds. He wanted to stay in this moment because, right now, Kurt was undeniably not holding back, and that knowledge made everything a thousand times better.