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Chapter 18

Kurt was slumped in a semi-sitting position with his back up against the wooden headboard of his bed. The dull ache caused by the unforgiving pine against the tense muscles of his back had long since been ignored as he lay silently, running his long, delicate fingers through the mass of unkempt curly dark hair belonging to the boy laying next to him.

Blaine had somehow maneuvered onto his right side; his fractured ribs obviously not protesting as loudly as earlier and he was curled up in a ball with his left shoulder, still in its sling, draped across his chest and his knees brought up close to his middle. Kurt couldn't help but notice how the position made the frail-looking boy appear even smaller.

Kurt was almost certain that Blaine had lost some tone and muscle mass over the past few weeks. His cheeks appeared hollow underneath the layer of multicolored bruises on his face. His arms, once strong and attractive, now appeared weak and emaciated. Under the white bandages, which were binding his still-healing chest cavity, several ribs seemed to nearly protrude out of his skin on his uninjured side.

Blaine looked nothing like the boy who'd been attacking the punching bag in the gym with such ferocity mere weeks ago.

If Kurt didn't know any better, he'd say that Blaine looked malnourished.

A tiny whimper escaped the younger boy's lips as Kurt ran a finger over his prominent cheekbone.

Although Blaine had been sleeping for what seemed like an eternity, Kurt doubted that it had been a restful slumber. Near-constant whimpers and groans had plagued the boy since he'd first fallen asleep on Kurt's bed. It was as though his mind, even while at rest, was riddled with nightmares. Several times, he'd reached out his un-slinged arm as though he was protecting himself from an imaginary foe. Kurt had remained at his side from the beginning, but the sight of Blaine cowering away from his dreamland villains continued to claw at his heart.

He had never imagined that such atrocities could ever happen in a small town like Lima, Ohio. Kurt had been so na�ve to believe that the worst that could happen to a boy his age was homophobic bullying in the hallways at school. Now, with the tattered and broken boy still nestled into his side, Kurt's imagination had taken a trip into overdrive and his mind was teeming with horrific possibilities of what Blaine may have been subjected to.

The night that he'd discovered Blaine on his doorstep, after the boy had all but passed out due to exhaustion, Kurt had overheard his father and Carole discussing Blaine's previous homophobic attack. He'd not meant to eavesdrop on their obviously private conversation, but he'd been on his way to the kitchen for a glass of water, and when he'd heard that the hushed conversation had involved his friend, he couldn't pry himself away.

Kurt had been shocked to discover that Carole had known Blaine from before, but had failed to mention anything about it. He'd concluded that he could appreciate her keeping the confidential information to herself but it was distressing to know that Blaine hadn't felt comfortable sharing that information with him. Blaine had obviously already been through a lot of pain and heartbreak in his lifetime and Kurt wished that he could do something to make the pain go away.

The part of the story that had upset Kurt the most was when he'd learned how Blaine's family had essentially abandoned him when he had no doubt needed them the most. He'd been left in the hospital all alone for months, recuperating and recovering from the extent of his injuries.

Blaine had almost died.

When Kurt had heard the words come from Carole's mouth informing Burt that the boy, now passed out downstairs, had almost died on the operating room table not two years before, he had struggled to keep a horrified gasp from exposing his hiding spot next to the laundry room.

He now found himself growing increasingly angrier when he thought about Mr. and Mrs. Anderson leaving their fourteen-year-old son to fend for himself before dumping him in some boarding school in attempt to try and 'straighten' him out.

If not for the continued support from Carole, Blaine would have been all alone.

The thought of Carole being the nurse in care of Blaine during his hospital stay had soothed Kurt's mind slightly, knowing that she was the most caring and devoted individual that he had ever met. Even in the short time that she had been dating Burt, Carole and Kurt had grown very fond of each other.

Although he was only eight when his mother had passed away, Kurt could remember how she had shared many of the same traits as Carole and he was comforted by the fact that his father had found someone to love and take care of him once again.

After hearing Carole's version of Blaine's story, Kurt would never again take for granted the amazing relationship he had with his father.

His father, who had never once blamed him for being gay, never spoke harsh words to him, and who supported him in his decisions and (sometimes outlandish) ideas since he was young.

His father, who loved him for who he was.

Kurt had never felt so lucky in all his life. He momentarily felt guilty for being so self-absorbed with his issues at school; Karofsky's bullying seemed so insignificant now, when compared to what Blaine had been dealing with all along. How could he have been so blind? Surely he should have noticed that Blaine was in trouble. Had he really been that non-observant, or had Blaine just done an exceptionally good job of hiding it?

The boy in question stirred in his sleep, rousing Kurt from his thoughts.

He lifted his arm up and curled it around Blaine's torso, holding him tight. He'd found that when the nightmares were at their worst, Blaine seemed to relax ever so slightly when he held him close.

Several more heartbreaking whimpers and pained groans found their way through the boy's chapped lips before Kurt heard a tiny, pleading voice break the silence.

"…please don't touch me."

Kurt closed his eyes in sadness and a tear made its way down his cheek as he clutched the boy to his chest and looked skywards. He wasn't religious by any stretch of his imagination, but he just wanted answers. He didn't care where the guidance came from; he just wanted to know what he needed to do to help this broken boy.

"It's okay Blaine. I'm here." Kurt cooed, gently running a thumb over the boy's sweat-covered forehead.

Blaine continued to tremble slightly, before relaxing under the tender touch.

Kurt held him tight, leaning Blaine's head onto his lap once again, carefully, as not to wake him.

"It's going to be okay Blaine, I'm not going anywhere." He murmured soothingly. "I'll be right beside you."

Soundlessly, Burt Hummel gently pried open the door into Kurt's bedroom and stuck his bald head in through the resulting crack, looking almost nervous as he glanced at the way his son was holding his friend while resting on his bed.

Kurt was looking towards the ceiling, with an obvious sadness filling his soul. Dried tear tracks were visible on the near-translucent skin of his cheeks.

He looked desperate.

It was as though he was desperately seeking out answers to aid Blaine through his unspoken anguish and pain.

Burt noticed that Kurt's pale skin seemed to shine against the darkness of Blaine's bare torso, which was tanned under the many bruises and abrasions.

Much like his mother, Kurt had always had a lightened aura. He seemed to emanate positivity and hopefulness during times of sorrow. Ever since Elizabeth had passed away, all those years ago, Burt had often relied on his son to provide him with optimism and a sunny disposition during the tough times.

The contrast of the two skin tones was added to by the sadness and sorrow surrounding Blaine, which seemed to emit a dark glow that encircled his tortured body.

As he stood staring at the ironically tranquil scene before him, Burt wished with all his strength that his son could share some of his light with the other boy.

A near-silent knock on the door aroused Kurt from his thoughts.

"Hey buddy." His father whispered. "Blaine still sleeping?"

Kurt nodded wordlessly, trying to avoid waking the still-trembling figure locked tight in his embrace.

"Can you come upstairs? Carole and I need to speak with you."

Kurt looked down to where Blaine lay with his head nestled comfortably in his lap. The fingers on his right hand were desperately clinging to the fabric of Kurt's silk pajama pants. Blaine's face was furrowed, causing deep crevices to appear on his forehead, whether from fear or pain, or possibly both, Kurt was unsure.

The exhausted teen looked back up to where his father remained standing in the doorway, as if to imply that he was unsure if he should or even�could�move from his current position.

He didn't want to leave Blaine alone.

"He'll be okay." Burt whispered. "Come on son, we need to talk."

Kurt drew together his eyebrows in hesitation. He looked down once again at Blaine's sleeping form before carefully lifting the smaller teen's head up out of his lap. Kurt gently slid out from underneath him and replaced Blaine's head onto a pillow. The boy groaned and Kurt froze, not wanting to wake him. After he seemed to relax into the pillow and his breathing had evened out, Kurt gingerly pried Blaine's fingers from the death-grip he'd taken on his pajamas and laid his hand down gently on the bed beside him. Blaine's fingers instantly clenched once again around the sheets on the bed.

Definitely not a peaceful sleep.

Kurt sighed, and pulled the fluffy chocolate brown duvet cover up around Blaine's chin and tucked in the edges carefully, as not to unnecessarily bump any of the injured sites on his body.

Once he was satisfied that he'd left Blaine in as comfortable position as possible, he looked back over to his father who was still standing in the doorway. Burt had a strange look on his face that Kurt didn't recognize. His father nodded in affirmation that Kurt had done a good job comforting his friend and tilted his head towards the door as if to tell his son, 'you've done all you can… let's go.'

Kurt didn't notice the single tear that had found its way down his father's cheek. He didn't realize that Burt had become choked up while watching his only son care so much for a boy he hardly knew. That Kurt's innate ability to love and care for others had his father seeing a mirror image of his late wife from so many years ago.

Kurt padded slowly over to the door, and Burt placed a proud arm around his son's shoulders.

"You did good, son." Burt whispered, his voice cracking slightly with emotion. "You did good."

Kurt allowed himself one last glance back at Blaine's still form before he turned back to his dad and nodded silently. They walked together up the stairs and into the kitchen where Carole sat at the table with three cups of steaming hot chamomile tea.

A silent glance between Burt and Carole ended with the tiniest of headshakes from Burt. Carole looked increasingly worried.

"Still no change hey?" She said to Kurt, resting a calm hand on his shoulder and offering him a mug of tea.

Kurt sighed. "No."

The three sat down at the kitchen table and spent a few moments in silence before Carole spoke up once again.

"Kurt… I know you said he didn't want…"

"No." Kurt interrupted, not looking up from the table. He mindlessly traced over the intricate floral patterns on the tea cup with his finger, ignoring the sharp burning sensation as the heat found its way through his delicate skin.

"We can't take him to the hospital. He made me promise."

"Kurt… buddy…" Burt started, "I know you think you need to protect him, but he is not getting better. He needs to see a doctor."

The teen shook his head. "No hospitals."

"Kurt," Carole sighed, gently rubbing a hand over Kurt's bicep. "He needs treatment that I can't give him. He needs fluids; an IV, maybe even antibiotics or something if his fever hasn't gone down, and he hasn't eaten since god only knows when. If we don't get him these things, he could get even more sick. None of us want that."

Kurt considered for a moment before looking up from the table into the warm eyes of the woman standing before him.

"He was so scared, Carole."

She reached up and took Kurt's face in both of her soft hands, gently running her thumbs over his moist eyes, effectively wiping away several tears in the process.

"Honey, I know. And you've been so good with him, Kurt. But he needs someone to step in and be the adult for him. He needs help."

"I know." Kurt nodded. "I just don't want him to hate me."

Burt took this opportunity to join the conversation. He'd been sitting at the table so quietly that Kurt had temporarily forgotten that he was even present.

"Kurt, he could never hate you. He obviously trusts you more than anyone since he chose you to finally come to for help. By the way you've spoken, it sounds like he has needed help for a while now. Obviously something you've said has finally gotten through to him."

The pale boy looked down at the table once again. He'd been trying to rid his mind of the horrific thoughts and potential scenarios that Blaine may have endured, but images kept popping into his head like an old black and white film with no sound.

"Do you really think he was…r-raped?" Kurt had never said the word out loud before. Just the sound of it rolling off the tip of his tongue was enough to send a torrent of shivers up his spine and produced an acidic taste in his throat.

Carole's face dropped slightly and she took both of Kurt's hands into her own.

"I don't know for sure, sweetheart. That will have to be something that we speak with Blaine about. Only he really knows what really happened."

"He…he wouldn't let me touch him." Kurt stammered, remembering the lack of recognition that had been etched into Blaine's features that night in his bedroom. "It was like he thought I was someone else; someone who was going to hurt him."

The room was quiet. No one knew what to say.

"I would never hurt him." He sniffled.

Carole reached up and wiped off another tear that had escaped down Kurt's cheek.

"I know honey, I think he was just confused, and afraid. He was in a lot of pain."

"Who would do this to him?"

Carole released a deep breath and closed her eyes. She hadn't told Kurt that she'd known Blaine from his previous attack, and Kurt hadn't informed anyone that he'd overheard the conversation between her and Burt. Everyone was in the dark and no one knew how much information should be divulged to the other.

"I don't know sweetie." She said, leaning in and placing a gentle kiss to Kurt's forehead after smoothing out the locks of golden hair that had fallen over his eyes. 'But we'll make sure that he is taken care of from now on, okay?"

Kurt nodded and took a sip of the tea, which was now slightly chilled.

Burt stood up from the table and walked around so he was facing both Carole and Kurt.

"So buddy…" He sighed. "What do you say? Will you let us to take him to the hospital?"

"No! You can't! You promised!" A terrified voice spoke up from behind them.

A collective gasp was heard as all three heads turned at once to see a pale, weakened version of Blaine Anderson standing in the doorway to the kitchen, with a look of sheer horror written into his exhausted features. His eyes were still darkened from the bruising, but much of his face was disfigured with yellowing patches of brown and green discoloration. The wound above his eye was closed and seemingly well on its way to becoming fully healed.

He was dressed in a pair of Kurt's pajamas, which Carole had left out on the table beside his bed. The flannel pants were far too long, and the extra inches of fabric gathered at both his ankles, covering his bare feet. The matching blue and white-striped shirt hung unbuttoned over his chest, covering the sling on his left shoulder, leaving the one fabric sleeve dangling empty beside him and the other sleeve came down past his wrist, covering his right hand.

He looked a child wearing his big brother's clothes.

"Blaine!" Kurt cried, standing up immediately from where he'd been seated. "Thank god, you're awake!"

The quick movement surprised Blaine and he unconsciously shied away from the approach. The subtle movement halted Kurt in his tracks and he instantly froze where he stood, only a few feet from the other boy.

Blaine's eyes were widened and his pupils blown. His breathing rate had increased dramatically over the past several seconds.

Carole recognized the look of fear and quickly stepped between the two teenagers, assembling herself as the sole participant in Blaine's line of vision.

"Blaine, honey… its Carole." She said softly, reaching out a hand. "Is it okay if I come a little closer?"

Blaine stood motionless and unblinking for several seconds before slowly nodding.

Carole closed the gap between herself and Blaine with a few slow and calculated steps before reaching her open hand out to him once again.

"Blaine, why don't you and I go and sit in the living room and talk for a minute? Would that be alright?"

Blaine's gaze slowly moved from where he'd been staring to where Burt was standing in the middle of the kitchen and his breath caught dramatically.

"Blaine?" Carole said again. "You're safe here, okay? No one is going to hurt you anymore."

Blaine's eyes remained on Burt for several seconds, until the older man offered the boy a slight smile and a gentle nod of his head. Blaine's head cocked slightly to the side, as if unsure of whether or not to trust what his eyes had shown him. His focus slowly continued to drift to the right until the large, honest and care-filled eyes of Carole Hudson met his own.

Oh, how he missed those eyes.

Blaine gulped and nodded slowly.

"Okay sweetie. Let's go sit down. You look exhausted and I don't want you falling on the floor."

She placed one hand gently on the top of his injured shoulder and the other across his upper back and steered him into the living room.

When they reached the sofa, Carole turned around and noticed that Kurt had followed them but lingered in the doorway with dejection and sadness strewn across his face. Burt was not visible and she assumed that the eldest Hummel had wisely remained in the kitchen.

Carole was relieved to see that Blaine was able to sit on the edge of the couch, with seemingly minimal pain. The reduced soreness seemed to imply that maybe some of his physical wounds were, in fact, beginning to heal.

After Blaine appeared comfortable, Carole took a seat next to him and looked deep into his eyes.

"How are you feeling right now?" She asked softly. "Are you in any pain?"

Blaine considered her words for a moment, apparently doing a mental inventory of his body.

He shook his head slowly. "I-I'm fine."

Carole closed her eyes and released a breath.

He's hardly fine.

"Can I have a look at your shoulder?"

After receiving a brief nod, Carole carefully removed the pajama shirt and took the sling off his left shoulder, which resulted in a gentle hiss from the boy. The bone had definitely been reduced back into its proper position, the discovery of which made Carole feel deeply relieved. The swelling was minimal and it appeared as though the range of motion in Blaine's limb was standard for his present condition. There was no circulatory compromise or deficits to the mobility in his arm or fingers, which meant that any permanent damage had likely been avoided.

Next, Carole removed the white bandages that bound Blaine's damaged ribcage. His breathing had improved significantly since her initial assessment, which meant that he was able to maintain a more natural pattern of breathing without inducing pain in his chest wall. With the past medical history that Blaine had; the trauma to his ribs, lungs and other internal organs, Carole had kept a watchful eye on his breathing rate, rhythm and depth.

After concluding that Blaine was in fact, looking a hundred times better than when she'd first examined his injuries, she re-wrapped his chest and applied the sling once again to cradle his left arm.

He'd come a long way, but he was no way ready to be considered 'healthy'.

After several moments of silence, Carole lifted her hand and gently ran a finger down his chin.

"Are you hungry?"

Blaine hesitated before shaking his head.

"Blaine, honey. You must be starving. I can have Kurt make some toast."

Much to his embarrassment, Blaine's stomach took this opportunity to release a loud growl at the mention of food. He looked up at Carole as a pink flush shone through the multicolored bruises on his cheeks.

"I thought so." She said with a smile. She moved her stare over to the boy still standing in the doorway. "Kurt sweetie, do you mind?"

Kurt, who'd been watching every moment with tense eyes, nodded; eager to finally be able to help, and turned to go back into the kitchen.

"Maybe put some peanut butter on it, please." She called out to him, and then she turned back to Blaine and lowered her voice so only he could hear and added with a wink, "If I remember correctly, you're a big fan of peanut butter."

Blaine smiled.

It wasn't much, but it was enough of a crooked grin that the skin at the corner of his eyes crinkled ever-so-slightly.

After everything that this boy had been through, Carole couldn't believe that something as simple as a little peanut butter was enough to make him smile.

Once she was certain that Kurt was out of earshot, Carole gently placed her hand on Blaine's upper back and whispered gently, while rubbing soothing circles into his tense muscles.

"I'm so glad to be able to talk to you again, Blaine. I always wondered where you ended up."

The curly-haired boy lifted his head to look Carole momentarily before returning his gaze to the floor. He seemed to consider his words carefully before speaking in a quiet, polite tone.

"I didn't know you were Finn's mom."

Carole smiled.

"And I certainly didn't realize that you were�'The Blaine'�that Finn always rambles on about."

Blaine's head shot up and he looked at the older woman with an arched eyebrow.

"He came home from school one day and told me all about this�little guy�that joined the football team. He said no one believed that you'd be able to play because of your… stature. But he said after try-outs, all the guys were super impressed."

"He said that?"

Carole grinned, "Of course he did, honey."

Blaine was tempted to smile once again but then remembered the ignorant comments from the locker room and his face sunk with sadness.

Carole hadn't missed the sudden change in the teen's appearance, but she didn't press the issue.

After a moment of semi-awkward silence, Carole knew that it was time that she brought up the obvious question that had been plaguing her mind.

"Blaine, honey." She started slowly, returning her hand to the boy's upper back and allowing her fingers to continue to massage the pacifying circles into his skin. "I know you probably don't want to talk about it, but I think you need to tell me what happened."

Blaine's face knit tightly, whether in sorrow or frustration, Carole couldn't be sure, and he turned away from her slightly.

"Sweetie, I can help you." Carole pleaded. "Please, just let me."

She watched as Blaine refused to make eye contact with her. He began to tremble slightly and she noted that his lower lip had developed a barely noticeable quiver.

But he didn't say a word.

Once again, Carole decided not to push the issue, afraid that she might set him off once again.

Instead, she continued to caress his back and was comforted when the boy began to lean back into her until he was gently nestled under her chin, leaning into her side. She turned her head slightly and placed a gentle kiss to the top of his head and just sat there holding him until Kurt returned with a plate stacked with four pieces of toast and a glass of milk.

He got to the doorway leading to the living room, but stopped so abruptly that several drops of milk slipped out of the glass, ran down his hand and onto the floor.

Kurt looked at Carole guiltily, unsure of whether or not he was supposed to enter the room. He noticed that Blaine had nestled up to Carole and found that he was feeling slightly jealous that he'd allowed�her�to get so close.

Carole looked up from the couch and saw that Kurt was patiently waiting for permission to enter the room. She returned her gaze to Blaine, who was staring off into the distance, completely unaware of his surroundings.

"Blaine… is it okay if Kurt comes in now? He brought your toast."

The smell of peanut butter wafting in from the kitchen made his stomach churn and gurgle hungrily. He nodded, still not able to look away from the floor.

Kurt cautiously stepped into the living room and placed the plate of toast and glass of milk on the table in front of the sofa before taking a few steps backwards and watching curiously.

It was as though he was baiting a wild animal – like feeding a squirrel peanuts at the park to see if he could convince it to sneak closer and closer until it would eat out of his hand. Kurt stood anxiously by, waiting to see if Blaine would take a piece of toast.

The boy seemed to hesitate momentarily, before looking towards Carole. She nodded and gave him a warm smile, as though silently encouraging him to eat.

For the first time, Blaine looked up to where Kurt stood several feet away from him, only able to make eye contact momentarily before whispering, "Thank you."

Kurt's heart soared and he breathed a sigh of relief.

He's not scared of me anymore.

"You're welcome Blaine." He said warily. "Can I get you anything else?"

Blaine shook his head slowly as his hand reached towards the plate.

"Would you like some?"

He picked up the plate and offered it towards Kurt.

Kurt, looking surprised, looked towards Carole who gave him a shrug. He looked back at Blaine, who still held the plate out to him and smiled.

"Sure, why not?"

He moved slowly towards Blaine and prudently lifted a piece of toast from the plate. He smiled in appreciation, and stood back in his original position, taking a bite of the toast.

"You can sit down if you want." Blaine offered, looking to the empty spot on the sofa next to him.

A wide grin spread across Kurt's face as he nodded and moved towards the couch and sat down gingerly next to the other teen.

Blaine took the plate and turned, offering it to Carole who smiled in awe. "No thanks honey. You go ahead."

He set the plate back in the middle of the coffee table before taking a piece of peanut butter-smothered toast, bringing it up to his lips and nibbling on the corner.

He didn't acknowledge the several pairs of eyes, watching his every move and he didn't hear the collective sigh of relief when he took a second bite.

After several minutes of silence, aside from the quiet munching of teeth on toast, Carole stood up from the couch and looked down at the pair of teenagers.

"Is it alright if I go into the kitchen and finish my tea? Are you two okay in here alone?" She aimed the question towards Blaine, testing the waters. She waited for any sign of discomfort or unease from the boy and was relieved to the core when there was none.

He nodded silently, as he took another small bite of his toast.

She smiled at Blaine and winked at Kurt before turning to leave.

"Thank you." Blaine whispered earnestly, just before she'd left the living room. "For helping me, I mean."

Carole's heart warmed, sending pangs of love circulating throughout her body.

"Of course, Blaine. You're welcome." She smiled and stared for a brief moment at the scene in front of her before turning and walking out of the room.

Several minutes of complete silence passed while Kurt sat awkwardly next to his friend, unsure of what to say or do.

His mind burned with questions that he wished he could ask, but he knew that he must remain patient and let Blaine set his own pace.

More silence ensued and Kurt continued to nibble on his piece of toast before Blaine broke the stalemate.

"I like peanut butter."

Kurt snorted.

He hadn't meant to, it just sort of happened.

Of all of the thoughts that were racing through his mind, the fact that Blaine apparently liked peanut butter was�definitely�not one of them.

Blaine turned to Kurt looking mildly amused.

"Did you just snort?"

Kurt pinched his lips together, trying hard to contain the smile that itched at the corners of his mouth.

"No."

Blaine lifted a single bushy eyebrow, turning back towards the plate and reaching for a second piece of the toast.

"I call bullshit."

Kurt snorted again.

A smile reached across Blaine's face, this time lighting up his eyes ever-so-slightly as he bit off a corner of the toast, still refusing to look at Kurt.

"You totally snorted." He said with his mouth full. "Twice."

This time Kurt laughed out loud.

"Did not." He said between giggles. "And don't talk with your mouth full."

Blaine shrugged and continued chewing on the toast.

Kurt could hardly believe that this was the same boy who'd only days ago, arrived on his doorstep in a bloodied heap. His cries and moans during the past few nights still plagued his memory and chilled him to the bone, but the sound of Blaine's voice now warmed his soul and made him believe that everything just might be okay eventually.

He couldn't deny the fact that Blaine's apprehension to speak about his injuries and how he'd obtained them made him increasingly nervous, but he was just happy to see his friend awake and speaking to him. Even if he knew damn well that Blaine was faking it.

If Blaine just wanted to avoid the truth, so be it.

"Wanna watch a movie?" Kurt offered several minutes later.

Blaine shrugged, taking a gulp of milk.

"What have you got?"

"Well… What do you like to watch?" Kurt said, slowly standing up from the sofa and walking towards a black shelf filled with DVDs. "I have a bunch of Disney movies, some rom-coms, like�every�musical ever produced, and…"

"Seriously?" Blaine interrupted. "Could you�be�any more stereotypical?"

Kurt turned around to face him, looking confused. "What do you mean?"

Blaine scoffed. "That was like, the�gayest�thing anyone has�ever�said."

Kurt looked at him for a moment, bewildered.

Huh?

"Kurt, I'm just kidding." Blaine said with chuckle. "But don't you have anything… good?"

Kurt's jaw dropped.

"I'll have you know… These are�classics!" He picked up a handful of musicals and walked back to where Blaine had remained on the couch and handed them to him.

Blaine skimmed through the titles quickly before looking up at Kurt with a raised eyebrow.

"Yeah, they're�classics�alright." He joked. "That's why they're all older than the hills and filmed in black and white!"

Without thinking, Kurt snatched a DVD case and swatted it towards Blaine's shoulder. It connected briefly, sending the younger teen flinching away from the contact with a gasp.

"Oh my god! I'm so sorry! I wasn't thinking…"

Blaine's eyes were wide and his face had gone slightly pale as he put his right hand up in front of his face in defense, turning away from Kurt.

"Blaine?" Kurt asked, taking a step back. "Are you alright?"

The teen squeezed his eyes shut and forced himself to take several deep breaths before unclenching his fist and lowering his hand back down to his side.

When he opened his eyes, Kurt was still standing a few feet in front of him, his face even more pale than usual with wide, fear-filled eyes.

"Blaine, I'm sorry… I didn't mean to…"

"I-I'm fine, Kurt." Blaine struggled. "You just surprised me."

"I should never have pretended to hit you like that, I'm such an idiot!" Kurt cried, sinking to his knees on the carpeted floor.

"We were just messing around. I had it coming." Blaine admitted. "And… you're�not�an idiot."

Kurt looked up from where he had knelt on the floor, relieved to see that Blaine had regained his composure and sat on the couch offering him a half-smile.

"Are you sure you're okay? I can go get Carole."

"I'm fine. I'm just a little…�jumpy."

Kurt sighed, feeling like a complete idiot. He moved back up to the couch and sat next to Blaine, not saying anything. Both teens sat silently, looking straight ahead, unknowing what to do next.

After a few minutes, Kurt spoke softly, but avoided making eye contact with the other boy.

"Does it hurt?" he whispered. "Your shoulder, I mean."

Blaine shrugged, "A little, but I've had worse."

Kurt grimaced, remembering Carole's overheard story from several nights ago.

"Can I do anything? Or get you anything?"

"I'm okay. It doesn't really hurt until I move around. Same for my ribs. There's a dull ache, but it's not bad 'til I try to stand up or something."

Kurt nodded.

"Carole really helped me out by fixing my shoulder. It was pretty messed up."

Kurt smiled. "Yeah, she's a pretty handy lady to have around."

"You're lucky to have her, Kurt. She's one of the nicest people I've ever met."

Kurt nodded once again, wondering if Blaine was going to finally share with him the fact that he knew Carole from before.

He didn't.

Blaine remained quiet for another few minutes before Kurt decided to break the silence with another question.

"How did you know how to get here?"

Blaine looked up at him. "Sorry?"

Kurt cleared his throat.

"When you showed up on the porch. How did you get here? How did you know where I lived?"

Blaine's eyes widened and his mind raced but he remained silent.

"I walked here." He murmured several moments later. He spoke so softly that Kurt nearly missed what he'd said.

"From your house? That's way across town Blaine!"

Blaine only shrugged.

"But…" Kurt continued, "How did you know how to get here? You've never been here before."

Blaine went quiet once again.

"Yes I have." He whispered even more inaudibly.

Kurt was perplexed.

When the hell…?

He was almost certain that Blaine had never been to his home before. He'd only been attending McKinley since the beginning of the school year. Maybe he'd come by after school with Finn or something once when Kurt wasn't at home?

"Remember the day that Karofsky slammed you into the locker and you hit your head?"

Kurt scoffed. "How could I forget? I missed the next day of school because I had such a headache."

"I saw it happen and I was really worried. You cracked your head pretty hard."

Kurt looked at Blaine.�What was he getting at?

"Don't be creeped out by this, but I followed you home that night. I wanted to make sure you made it home alright."

Kurt was speechless.

He did that for me?

"Are you mad?"

Kurt, stunned, shook his head, "Why on earth would I be mad?"

"I dunno." Blaine shrugged. "Maybe you think I was stalking you or something."

Kurt let out a snort. Again.

"You're hardly a stalker Blaine."

Several minutes of silence passed.

"You snorted again."

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