"Good morning, Kurt!" Blaine sang brightly as he cracked an egg over a hot skillet. Kurt lingered in the cherry wood door frame before stepping inside, sitting at the small table in the kitchen. He watched Blaine as he prepared what looked like omelets.

The sizzling of the skillet filled the room along with the sweet scent of cooked egg. Blaine let it cook as he grabbed a plate out from the microwave with a pristine cooked omelet and set it in front of Kurt along with silverware.

"I didn't know what you wanted on it, so it's just cheese." Blaine apologized sheepishly. "I can make you another one if you want me to. . ."

Kurt eyed the food wearily, chewing his lip lightly. He picked up his utensils and nibbled at the food as Blaine poured them both orange juice.

Blaine finished cooking his breakfast and sat opposite of Kurt at the small table, watching Kurt eat with his hands trembling and his back ramrod straight.

"Do you like it?" Blaine asked.

"Yeah. . ." Kurt mumbled, barely audible.

"Good, awesome. I'm glad. . ." He was happy that Kurt had started talking, even if it was one word at a time, but he looked more nervous than before. His muscles were drawn up tight and wings tense with a dark, guilty-looking expression covering his face.

Kurt's eyes were downcast onto his plate, refusing to make eye contact.

"Did you sleep well?" Questioned Blaine as he cut his omelet into little squares.

Kurt nodded.

Blaine didn't believe him. The bags under his eyes were darker than the day prior, and, to Blaine, he just looked. . . dead to the world. With his sunken cheeks, ashen skin, battered body and scarred wing he looked like he could have crawled straight out of a grave. If it wasn't for his bright, expressive eyes, Blaine would have thought exactly that.

Kurt ate a fourth of his omelet before he set his silverware down quietly. Blaine caught his eyes, and noticed the redness in them, along with the dried tear tracks on his delicate face.

"Kurt, are you alright?"

"Sorry, Master, I-" He said, voice trembling wildly. Blaine felt his heart constrict. He wanted to comfort the Ave, hold him and tell him it was okay, but he waited for Kurt speak.

"Last night, I- I don't know why I. . . did that," He stuttered. "I'll, um, take my punishment any way you want."

Blaine's breath hitched, mouth going slack.

"And why would I do that?"

Kurt bit his lip, shifting uncomfortably. He didn't provide an answer.

"Kurt, is that why you are so scared of me?"

". . ."

"Kurt, please answer."

"Yes."

Blaine sighed, nodded, then ran a hand over his soft curly hair. The answer was bittersweet. The last thing he wanted was to do was scare Kurt, but a lot of things started to make sense of the boy. It also, however, sparked questions that concerned Blaine dearly.

"You never have to be scared of me, Kurt." Blaine stated sincerely. "I promise, I will never lay a hand on you like that."

Kurt stayed silent, his gaze distant, looking at Blaine with sapphire eyes. Blaine watched the contours of his face shift in the morning light as he relaxed.

"Now, if I ever break my promise, or do something stupid. Please feel free to slap me right in the mouth." He said lightly, bringing up the mood. "I will probably deserve it."

Kurt grinned shyly and let out a small, shaky laugh.