Author's Note:

I just wanted to tell everyone how much I truly appreciate the support you've given me. I was heartbroken when I lost this chapter and it took an incredible amount of strength and courage for me to re-write it. This chapter is very emotional for me personally, and it's literally the peak of Blaine's angst, so it was extremely difficult to write once, let alone twice.

But many of you sent me encouraging notes and that fuelled me and kept me going.

Just a note - Once again, my brain went into overdrive... this is a very very long chapter and I still had to split it in half. There will be another part to "I Don't Want To Hide". Sorry for stretching it out so much. Never again will I use lyrics as chapter titles...

Anyways… without further ado…

Here's the next chapter.

I'm sorry it's such a horrible one… please forgive me.

XOXO

Love,

Ryleigh

*** HEAVY TRIGGER WARNING ***

***Mentions of suicidal thoughts and depictions of self harm***

This chapter also contains depictions of violence, psychological/emotional manipulation, coarse language and graphic non-consensual sexual acts.

~~~ This story is rated 'R'. ~~~

Viewer discretion is STRONGLY advised…

Chapter 27 Part Four

Soft snores seeped from Blaine's lips as he shifted unconsciously in his sleep.

His dark curls had fallen upon his face in a tangled mess, partially obscuring his eyes, but his long, impossibly thick eyelashes were still visible, splayed lazily upon the tops of his sunken cheekbones.

With every breath the tiny teen exhaled, a spiraling lock of near-black hair wisped helplessly along the curve of his cheek.

Blaine nestled his face deeper into the pillow with a contented sigh and smacked his lips just softly enough to be audible.

He was definitely still sound asleep.

Kurt smiled and carefully leaned forward to pull the heavy mink blanket tighter under Blaine's chin.

He didn't stir.

Blaine was laying on his right side, with his knees pulled high into his chest, curling himself into a tight ball, which made him look even smaller than Kurt deemed possible.

His arms were stretched out above him, extending through the slots in the wooden headboard, with his hands lightly clasped together at the inside of this wrists.

The sling from Blaine's left shoulder was nowhere to be seen; apparently the frightened teen had ripped it off in the midst of his most recent panic attack.

Kurt sighed as he took in the sight of both of Blaine's arms resting high above his head as he slept.

He hoped that Blaine's meltdown had not caused his already decrepit body any further damage.

The boy's phone remained clutched tightly in his hand, even as he slept. Kurt carefully pulled the device out of Blaine's fingers and set it gently on the nightstand beside his bed without a sound. He could see the corner of Blaine's brown leather journal peeking out from underneath his pillow and for half a second, Kurt found himself wishing that he could just take a peek.

But the fleeting thought vanished as quickly as it had appeared when he glanced down again at the boy's slumbering form.

He needs to learn to trust again.

Reading his journal would only be breaking the tiny iota of trust we've worked so hard to rebuild.

The stuffed rabbit 'Thumpy' was lying forgotten by Blaine's waist so Kurt gently pulled is old friend out from underneath the heavy blanket.

"Thank you for taking care of him for me." He whispered softly, scratching the rabbit between its plush ears.

When the rabbit didn't reply, Kurt reached across and tucked him under the blanket, next to Blaine's broad chest.

This time, the movement caused the sleeping boy to stir slightly, and Kurt noticed that both of Blaine's fists tightened momentarily as though he was fighting the urge to pull his hands away from where they remained positioned at the head of the bed.

Barely visible under a mass of messy curls, the olive skin on Blaine's forehead wrinkled slightly, forming shallow creases, causing his bushy eyebrows to knit together as a tiny whimper escaped his lips.

A violent shiver snaked up Kurt's spine and his breath caught in his throat when it suddenly dawned on him as to why Blaine was laying in this seemingly awkward position.

That's how he slept when he was tied up in his cage.

Kurt brought his hand up to muffle the tiny gasp that threated to leave his own lips as he stared down at the beautiful boy lying on the bed beside him. Blaine was shifting now, his body twisting and turning away from the demons that plagued his slumber.

Kurt gulped before he reached up hesitantly and carefully lowered Blaine's injured left arm until it was resting comfortably on the bed next to him. The moment his mind recognized this change, Blaine unconsciously shifted in his sleep until his hand clutched Thumpy and pulled the fluffy creature closer into his chest.

After emitting a stuttered sigh, Blaine's whole body seemed to relax deeper into the mattress and his breathing returned to normal as he drifted back into a restful slumber.

The demons were gone.

Someone was playing with his hair.

Fingers were tangling themselves in his messy curls.

Blaine clenched his eyes tight and tried to control his breathing.

Fake it.

Pretend you're asleep.

Sometimes they don't hurt you when you're asleep.

Sometimes.

He could feel the warmth of a human body lying next to him and he couldn't help but allow his muscles to tense up.

Stop it.

He's going to know you're awake.

The fingers continued to dance lightly through his hair, spinning and twisting the curls and Blaine could feel his throat tightening with every passing second.

Breathe.

He'll notice if you stop breathing and he'll know you're awake.

Then he'll make you suck him off again.

He always makes you do that when you wake up.

When your throat is dry.

Blaine willed his body to relax and focused all of his strength on breathing deep, effective breaths.

In and out.

In and out.

He could feel something soft pressing under his chin, but he knew it wouldn't be a blanket.

It couldn't be.

They never let him have a blanket.

And why was he comfortable?

His cage was not comfortable.

It was hard and cold, and made his back and neck ache and his knees hurt from having to crouch himself into a tiny ball.

This wasn't hard and cold.

No… this was warm and soft.

Blaine wanted to peek open his eyes to see what the softness might be, but he couldn't risk it.

He couldn't risk them knowing he was awake.

In and out.

In and out.

He continued the rhythmic pattern of breathing until…

Wait.

Something is different.

Something didn't smell right.

It didn't smell… old.

Or damp, or rotten or scary.

It smelled… warm?

Like vanilla.

Blaine's eyebrows furrowed without his permission.

Why did it smell like vanilla?

He took in another deep breath.

Yes, definitely vanilla.

The fingers continued to brush through his curls, and only then did Blaine realize that the fingers were very gentle. They weren't pulling on his hair, or pushing him down, or slapping his face.

They were soft.

Soothing.

In and out.

In and out.

He racked his brain to try and figure out this apparent riddle.

What's going on?

Is this a trick?

Blaine's curiosity peaked then, and he couldn't help but allow his eyes to slip open just a crack.

The softness was a blanket.

And a rabbit.

Wait…

A rabbit?

What the…?

Then it hit him.

Vanilla.

It's Kurt.

Kurt is here?

Why is…

Oh.

Kurt's not here.

But…I'm with Kurt?

Even in Blaine's own mind, it sounded more like a question than a statement.

He allowed his eyes to drift open completely now but his vision was blurred and hazy from his nap.

Blaine ignored the protest from his shoulder as he lifted his arm up and rubbed the sleep from his eyes with the back of his hand.

Eventually the colors in his vision sorted themselves out and he could see the blurry outline of a thin, delicate boy sitting next to him.

Kurt?

Real Kurt?

Blaine refused to allow himself to get too excited.

He'd been wrong before.

His mind had played many horrible tricks on him before.

Once, he'd dreamed that Kurt was with him, holding him, and that they were both warm and safe.

But then he'd woken up to find that it definitely wasn't Kurt holding him.

And he wasn't warm or safe.

No… he wasn't going to make that mistake again.

He'd made himself a vow long ago that he would not allow himself any hope until he knew for sure that he was safe.

It took another couple of minutes until his vision had cleared enough so he could finally make out the details of the beautiful boy sitting next to him.

Flawless porcelain skin.

Soft-looking golden hair styled into a perfect coif.

And those eyes.

Those eyes could only belong to Kurt.

His Kurt.

Blaine sighed audibly and allowed his sleepy eyelids to fall closed once again as he melted back into his pillow with a dopey smile.

Kurt.

Kurt was here.

His Kurt.

Wait…

KURT!

Blaine's eyes shot back open and he sucked in a surprised breath.

Kurt (his Kurt) was looking at him with a gentle smile.

"Hi." The older teen whispered softly.

Blaine's heart clenched.

It's him.

Only 'my' Kurt has that beautiful voice.

He's really here.

"Y-you came back."

The words were rough, sleep-filled and desperate, but they were words and each one sent a new round of chills up Kurt's spine.

"Of course I came back." He said softly. "I made you a promise, Blaine."

He leaned down and pressed a gentle kiss to Blaine's forehead.

"I always keep my promises."

It was quiet for a few minutes as both boys simply stared at each other, Blaine looking up at where Kurt sat on the bed next to him still twisting his fingers through his curls.

Kurt wanted to ask Blaine about his panic attack; ask him about what caused him to lose himself as he had and if he was actually feeling better now, but he was afraid to break the silence.

Blaine, on the other hand, seemed oddly comfortable and uncharacteristically relaxed at that moment and Kurt had no desire to interrupt that.

He looked down at the younger teen's face, and could see that the boy's forehead had suddenly become creased.

He was contemplating something.

Was he trying to think of something to say?

Kurt desperately hoped so.

He had been so excited when Blaine had kept up a conversation with him on the phone earlier, especially considering the circumstances during said phone call. It was by far the most words the teen had spoken since everything had happened, and Kurt ached to keep him speaking.

He missed talking to the curly-haired boy.

Blaine turned his head to the left, as if to look out the window, temporarily forgetting that he'd pulled the blinds closed himself only hours ago.

He felt incredibly disorientated.

What time is it?

Two faint slivers of soft glowing light streaked into the room from each side of the heavy fabric blinds that covered the window.

It was impossible for Blaine to determine the time of day.

He felt somewhat rested, but it wasn't dark enough outside to be the middle of the night.

It must still be mid afternoon.

But… why is Kurt home already?

He knit his eyebrows together for a brief moment in contemplation before turning back towards the pale boy sitting in the spot next to him on the bed.

"Y-you… d-didn't leave school early, did you?"

Kurt didn't miss the guilt that was heavily embroidered into each of Blaine's broken words.

He sighed.

Leave it to Blaine to worry about me missing class.

If he was being honest, Kurt hadn't left the school immediately after he'd ended his phone call with the sleeping boy.

But he certainly wasn't going to tell Blaine that he'd spent over 15 minutes sitting on the floor of the girl's bathroom shaking and crying his eyes out uncontrollably.

He didn't think that would go over very well.

"It's okay, sweetie." He reassured, several seconds later. "I only skipped French."

Blaine frowned, but before he could express his guilt once again, Kurt continued.

"Honestly, Blaine." He explained with a soft smile. "It's okay. I have almost a perfect grade in that class. Actually, I'm more fluent than the teacher."

Blaine looked doubtful.

Kurt picked up on Blaine's reservation immediately and a sparkle twinkled in his eye as he turned back towards Blaine with a grin.

"Tu es beau et courageux, et je ne te laisserai jamais tomber."

Blaine blinked in surprise as the foreign words flowed flawlessly from between Kurt's lips.

"Th-that was beautiful." He managed. "What does it mean?"

Blaine didn't notice the tips of Kurt's ears turning a rosy shade of pink as he translated his last words.

"You are beautiful and brave, and I will never let you fall."

Blaine sucked in a stunned breath and his thick eyebrows crept higher on his forehead.

Heat flooded into his hollow chest and his neck and cheeks turned a shade of pink, almost identical to the color of Kurt's ears.

He couldn't force himself to keep Kurt's gaze any longer, so he looked away and lowered his head, with Kurt's words tumbling though his brain.

Beautiful.

Brave.

Kurt watched sadly as Blaine refused to keep eye contact with him.

That was not exactly the response I was going for.

Maybe I shouldn't have said that.

Why isn't he saying anything?

A violent shiver snaked up Kurt's spine as a gut-wrenching thought flitted through his brain.

What if he doesn't want to talk anymore?

He'd felt so excited… ecstatic even, when speaking with Blaine on the phone earlier that afternoon. The boy's words had filled Kurt with hope, pride and gave him the strength to keep up his brave front.

It was ironic really, that Blaine's bravery had given Kurt the courage to keep talking to Blaine and calm him down.

But now here he was, silently avoiding eye contact once again.

So much for progress…

Kurt sighed and shifted slightly on the bed next to where Blaine lay, still on his right side, but with his eyes downcast, and the fingers of his right hand fumbling monotonously with Thumpy's soft, black whiskers.

He was about to say something further when Blaine's meek voice sounded feebly from beside him.

"I-I wasn't very brave today, Kurt."

Kurt's pounding heart shattered at the emptiness of Blaine's words.

Shame.

Disappointment.

Sadness.

"Blaine…" He cried. "You were brave today. So, so brave."

The smaller boy didn't look up.

"You talked to me today, Blaine. On the phone." Kurt continued. "That was so brave of you. I know you have trouble with your words sometimes, but you talked to me on the phone today… and that was huge sweetheart. You were so brave."

Blaine finally lifted his head and looked at Kurt with wide, anguish-filled hazel eyes.

You're not disappointed in me?

"I'm so proud of you, Blaine." Kurt answered Blaine's unasked question. "You made me feel strong and brave today too. Just by talking to me. You did that. You gave me courage."

A lone tear slipped down Blaine's cheek as he considered Kurt's words.

I helped him?

I helped Kurt.

Kurt smiled and lifted his thumb up to wipe away the stray tear.

"You were perfect."

Blaine sucked his bottom lip in between his teeth and chewed on it for a brief second before pushing himself up with his elbows in a weak attempt to sit up straighter in the bed.

A sharp surge of pain streaked up his shoulder and into his neck and Blaine was unable to contain the tiny pained wince that leaked from his lips.

Kurt noticed immediately.

"Does your shoulder hurt? You were kind of… laying… funny."

Blaine took in a deep breath, carefully considering the consequences of a wrong answer, before he shook his head.

I'm fine.

I'm fine.

I'm fine.

Kurt didn't buy it for a second.

"It does, doesn't it?" He asked, assisting Blaine into a sitting position next to him on the bed.

The teen had pulled his arm into himself and was cradling it gently across his chest with his other hand.

Kurt could see him struggling to maintain a regular breathing pattern. He looked at Blaine and raised an eyebrow as if to say, 'please… just tell me the truth.'

Blaine hesitated. He swallowed, took a deep breath, and then he finally nodded his head slowly.

"That's what I figured." Kurt said. "Your sling is in the kitchen. We'll get it when we go out for dinner."

Blaine nodded.

"Thank you for being honest with me." Kurt offered quietly.

Blaine nodded again, although this time, maybe not quite as deliberately.

"We'll get Carole to have a look at your shoulder… just to make sure it's not re-injured, okay?"

Blaine's heart plummeted.

Carole.

He'd forgotten about Carole.

The memories from that afternoon rushed back into his mind and a look of pain flickered onto his face.

"Is she… mad at me?"

Kurt closed his eyes briefly and drew in a deep breath. He'd been anticipating this reaction from Blaine since Carole had filled him in on what had transpired that afternoon.

"Of course she's not mad at you Blaine." He explained slowly. "She was just scared."

Blaine's face was still scrunched in concern, so Kurt continued.

"Carole was worried about you. She just wanted to help."

Nothing.

Kurt paused, carefully considering his next words.

He knew that if he said the wrong thing, it could potentially cause Blaine to relapse into a catatonic state.

"You don't have to take any medicine, okay Blaine?"

The boy beside him tensed immediately. Kurt felt the boy's muscles tighten beside him and knew he'd struck the right chord.

But had he struck that chord too hard?

Time for damage control.

"Carole was just trying to help, but she said the wrong thing… okay?"

Kurt started breathing again when Blaine nodded, albeit unconvincingly.

"You don't have to take anything you don't want to. I promise."

Another nod.

They sat in silence for several minutes until Kurt decided to take a second plunge.

"Do you… want to talk about what happened today?"

Blaine hesitated.

Kurt's heart thumped wildly in his chest.

He hesitated.

Usually it's a quick headshake.

Progress?

"I-I don't wanna talk about what happened with anyone. Ever."

Kurt's heart stopped thumping all together.

Oh.

Not progress.

"That's completely okay, Blaine. I understand." He said with a sad, but silent sigh. "But please, just know that you can talk to me about anything. Okay? I'm not going anywhere."

Kurt reached over and squeezed Blaine's uninjured shoulder and looked him square in the eye.

"You're stuck with me, Blaine Anderson."

Blaine risked a look up at Kurt and nodded, his hazel eyes brimming with tears.

"I'll never be mad at you for telling me something. Or disappointed. Ever. I might feel sad and angry but I'm never going to be angry with you. I'm sad about what happened to you and I'm… pissed off at the ones who did it, but it's not your fault, Blaine. None of this is your fault." Kurt took a breath to compose himself before continuing. "I just wanted to make sure that you understood that, okay? I need you to know that I'll never be upset with you. I lo… I-I mean… I really care about you Blaine, and I want you to be happy. It makes me happy when you tell me things. It means that you trust me, Blaine. And I want you to feel like you can trust me."

Silence.

Extended silence.

Kurt gulped.

Maybe I shouldn't have…

What if…

Damn it.

Why did I…?

He'd turned to the side and was just about to ask Blaine if he was alright when he noticed a look of heavy concentration on the teen's face.

His eyebrows were knit together in the middle of his face and his skin on his forehead was pulled into thick, deep creases. Blaine's full lips were parted, just slightly, and trembling just enough to be visible.

He was preparing to speak.

Choosing his words very, very carefully.

Kurt's heart pounded in his chest and he could feel the palms of his hands becoming cold and clammy as he anxiously waited for Blaine to speak.

"I-I don't want to take the medicine anymore."

Blaine's words were hushed and weak. He sounded like a scared little boy.

Then Kurt remembered… Blaine was a scared little boy.

He nodded once, encouraging Blaine to continue, but he was afraid to speak his own words; not wanting to risk the chance of accidentally interrupting what could potentially be a life changing testimonial.

There was another long pause.

With every second that ticked away, Kurt grew more and more anxious.

What was he going to say?

Was he actually going to talk about what happened?

"They…" Blaine gulped and cleared his throat before continuing. "They… m-made me take a bunch of different p-pills. And sometimes they used needles in my arms."

Kurt went rigid.

This is new.

"Most of them made it so I couldn't think properly and everything was really fuzzy." Blaine explained slowly. He mindlessly tugged at Thumpy's ears as he continued.

"Sometimes it was like I couldn't even move. It felt like my arms and legs were… really heavy and I couldn't even lift them."

Kurt stayed quiet.

He knew there was more coming.

What he didn't know was that Blaine would start shaking.

Or that tears would start streaming down the boy's face as he recalled his worst nightmares.

Kurt silently reached over, clutched Blaine's fingers into his own and gave them a gentle, but encouraging squeeze.

Please… Please don't stop now, Blaine.

You're doing so good.

Blaine squeezed his eyes closed, which pushed several more tears down the stains on his cheeks as he sucked in a ragged breath.

"They m-made me take… pills… that made my… m-me…. look like I was… enjoying it."

Blaine started sobbing as he finished his confession. His body pitched forward several times as the emotion surged through his system.

"I'm so sorry, K-Kurt." He cried, sucking in shallow, ragged breaths. "I swear I didn't enjoy it. I p-promise!"

Kurt was frozen.

He'd had no idea…

"I didn't like it… I swear!" Blaine continued. He was sobbing uncontrollably now, after pulling his hand out from Kurt's fingers and he was rocking back and forth on the bed with his knees drawn up into his chest. "I hated it! I hated it so much!"

Without warning, Blaine brought his palms up and began smacking his clenched fists into the sides of his head frantically and tangling his fingers into his curls, angrily pulling on them.

The sight of Blaine physically attacking himself was enough to snap Kurt out of his stupor and he immediately took action. He desperately reached over and pulled Blaine's arms down from where his fists were still angrily pounding on his temples and drew the sobbing boy into his chest.

They fell together onto the bed and Blaine immediately nestled his face into the spot directly below Kurt's chin. His fists tightened in Kurt's hands, his fingers anxiously grabbing for something… anything… to clutch onto.

"I swear I didn't like it… I swear, Kurt… I swear... I hated it so much... They hurt me... I hated it… I HATED it!"

The words tumbled out of Blaine's mouth, muffled slightly by Kurt's own body, but he heard each and every one of them.

And each and every one of them filled his heart with acid.

There were tears.

So many tears, and they pooled down Kurt's porcelain cheeks like an April rainstorm.

He couldn't stop them if he tried.

"I know you didn't… I know it… It was the drugs, Blaine... Just the drugs… I know, sweetheart... I know... It's going to be okay…"

His words of attempted reassurance flowed just as freely as Blaine's destructive ones, leaving a steady stream of two voices rambling in disjointed synchronicity.

They remained like this for several minutes, until Blaine's pleas for forgiveness finally tapered off and his trembling subsided.

Kurt, finally feeling more composed, pulled Blaine tighter into his chest and placed a gentle kiss to the top of his head before he carefully pried the boy's boneless form away from his chest.

It was like moving a rag doll.

Kurt reached across and gently lifted Blaine's chin until their eyes met.

Blaine's face was flushed, his eyes bloodshot and puffy from crying. His tangled curls were splayed messily across his forehead until Kurt reached up with his left hand and gently tucked them behind Blaine's right ear.

Kurt then leaned forward and pressed his own forehead together with Blaine's and they laid together in complete silence, until their breathing patterns were completely synchronized.

Blaine's eyes had drifted closed, and apart from a few uncontrolled sobs, he looked as though he might have been asleep.

Kurt allowed his own eyes to drift closed as he felt the warmth of Blaine's skin against his own and the gentle puff of each of the boy's breaths, soft as a whisper, against his nose.

In and out.

In and out.

A shiver streaked up Blaine's spine, strong enough that Kurt could feel him shudder underneath him.

"I'm going to pull the covers up." Kurt whispered softly, without pulling his face away from Blaine's. "Is it okay if I snuggle with you?"

Blaine nodded hypnotically.

Kurt reached down with his free hand and pulled the soft mink blanket up until it was draped heavily over them both.

Only then did he finally pull his forehead away from Blaine's and look down at the boy with tear-stained cheeks.

Blaine was curled up with his knees drawn up into his chest and his face buried under the edge of the blanket. His injured left arm remained clutched tightly over his torso while his right fist was gripped firmly onto the sleeve of Kurt's sweater.

He was fast asleep.

Another round of tears trickled down from Kurt's exhausted eyes as he tucked the boy back into his chest and held him in his arms, never to let go.

"We're going to be okay now, Blaine. We're going to be okay."

It was about an hour or so later when Kurt felt the exact moment that Blaine had woken up without peeking under the covers.

His breathing pattern had changed.

Kurt carefully lifted the heavy mink blanket away from where it obstructed his view of the tiny boy still nestled into his chest and sighed.

Blaine was hugging Thumpy with his left arm and had the fingers of his right hand entwined within Kurt's.

The second the blanket was pulled away from his face, Blaine's eyes darted open and met Kurt's.

"Hi." Kurt said with a soft smile. He gave Blaine's fingers a gentle squeeze.

The corners of Blaine's eyes crinkled just slightly at the contact and a small, tired smile appeared at the corner of his lips as he reciprocated the gentle touch.

Kurt was so relieved to see that fraction of a smile, that it may as well have been a huge, toothy grin.

"Hi." Blaine whispered back softly. His voice was deep and raspy, still laced with sleep, but it filled Kurt's heart to the brim with warmth and hope.

"Are you doing okay?" He asked while rubbing his thumb gently over the back of Blaine's knuckles.

Blaine pulled in a deep, relaxed breath, and nodded.

Another wave of relief flooded Kurt's veins, but before he could continue, Blaine surprised him with a question.

"A-Are you?"

He wasn't sure why, but Kurt's brain spun out a little bit with the question. He wasn't anticipating it.

At all.

"Yes." He replied. "I'm doing great."

The two teens stared at each other for a full minute before Kurt finally broke his gaze and looked down at the plush rabbit tucked tightly under Blaine's arm.

"Thank you for keeping Thumpy warm." Kurt said with a crooked grin. He then wrinkled up his nose in mock disgust before continuing. "He gets pretty grumpy if he's not snuggled under the covers."

The sound that came out of Blaine's lips made Kurt feel as though a host of angels had appeared in the bedroom and begun singing.

Blaine had giggled.

It wasn't much, and it certainly wasn't very loud, but it was undoubtedly a giggle.

Kurt smiled the widest smile he had in days.

Weeks even.

"I have something for you." He said, pulling the blankets off himself and quickly climbing out the opposite side of the bed.

Blaine struggled to sit himself up and watched as Kurt tiptoed across the cool hardwood floor and over towards the desk. The teenager quickly grabbed something off the top of the desk before prancing his way back and pouncing unceremoniously onto the bed next to Blaine.

"It's so much warmer under here with you." Kurt giggled as he pulled the blanket back over his lap and nestled in beside his friend.

Both he and Blaine were now sitting up with their backs against the headboard of the bed, close enough together that their shoulders were touching.

Kurt didn't feel cold anymore.

"Okay…" He started with a smile as he handed Blaine the item he'd retrieved from the desk. "I made this for you."

Blaine opened up the thin, square plastic case to find a homemade CD. He smiled when he read Kurt's neatly printed words:

To Blaine

From Kurt

COURAGE

Blaine ran his finger across the words, and over a number of tiny green and black music hand drawn notes.

He smiled as he considered the amount of time it must have taken Kurt to doodle all of them.

No wonder he took so long in his bedroom this morning.

I can't believe he did this for me.

"I'm not sure if you remember what I said to you on the phone, but… it's filled with a bunch of songs that I thought might help cheer you up when you're feeling sad, or angry, or alone." Kurt explained. "I know it's like… old fashioned… to put songs on a CD, but… I didn't want to take your phone without permission and I always prefer having music on a disc that I can hold in my hand. I don't really know why… I guess it's kinda silly…It's…"

Kurt was rambling, but before he could continue his speech, Blaine finished his sentence for him.

"…it's perfect, Kurt." He whispered softly. "Thank you."

Kurt breathed a heavy sigh of relief as he looked at Blaine with a smile.

"You're so welcome." He grinned. "I figured it would be something for you to have while I'm at school, but of course you can still call me or text me anytime too, okay?"

Blaine nodded.

He didn't really want to think about the fact that Kurt would inevitably have to return to school the following day.

Today was bad enough without him, how will I ever survive all day tomorrow?

Kurt could sense Blaine's hesitation.

"Also… thank you for telling me about… that stuff." His voice was gentle and soft. "I know that was really, really hard for you to tell me, but you did so good, Blaine. You were very brave."

Blaine drew in an uncomfortable breath, his eyes remained downcast, carefully avoiding Kurt's gaze. His fingers fumbled mindlessly with the CD in his hands.

"I mean it, Blaine." Kurt reassured. He lifted his hand up to Blaine's forearm and rubbed gentle circles into his skin with the pad of his thumb. "I'm so proud of how far you've come lately."

That did it.

A single word was enough to get Blaine's undivided attention and caused him to lift his head and look at Kurt with wide eyes.

Pride.

Kurt is proud of me.

A flutter of emotion wobbled through Blaine's chest as his honey-hazel eyes remained fixed on Kurt's hauntingly beautiful glasz ones.

He sucked in another staggered breath and nodded.

Kurt leaned over and pressed a gentle kiss to the top of Blaine's messy curls before pulling back and flashing him another proud smile.

"Are you hungry?" He asked. "Dad texted me a bit ago and said to come out for dinner when we were ready. He ordered take out."

At the mere mention of food, Blaine's stomach took the opportunity to let out a low rumbling growl. The boy's face flushed pink in embarrassment, and Kurt couldn't help but giggle.

"That happens every time, doesn't it?" He chuckled, trying to ease Blaine's humiliation.

Blaine shrugged, but he too couldn't hide the tiny smile that formed on his face.

"Come on then…" Kurt said playfully, pulling the blanket off of them both. "Let's go feed the hungry lion."

Kurt quickly hopped off the bed and padded around to help Blaine crawl off his side. The teen was still tightly supporting his left arm across his chest and Kurt didn't miss Blaine's tiny pain-filled gasp as he pulled himself to his feet clumsily.

He'd already taken a few steps towards the bedroom door before Kurt realized that the shorter teen was no longer walking beside him. He turned around to check on Blaine, but held his tongue when he realized that the teen was clutching his new CD to his chest protectively and seemed to be scanning around the room.

Kurt's heart tingled slightly as it dawned on him what the boy was doing.

He's looking for a special place to keep it.

Kurt casually turned his head away, as though giving Blaine a moment of privacy, but he could see out of the corner of his eye, that Blaine stepped back towards the bed and tucked the CD underneath his pillow next to his journal. He then reached up onto the bedside table to where his phone remained and slipped it under the pillow as well.

Kurt's heart sunk.

Blaine wasn't looking for a special place to keep his possessions; he was looking for a safe place to keep them.

He feels like he has to hide the few personal belongings that he has left.

Kurt's mind instantly flickered back to the collection of seemingly insignificant items that he'd found stashed away in Blaine's motel room.

Newspaper clippings, the coffee cup from the Lima Bean, an ancient looking guitar, the grass bracelet Kurt had mindlessly constructed that afternoon under the oak tree…

Blaine had kept all of those things… because it was all he had.

He'd treasured that paper coffee cup like it was a chest full of gold coins because everything else in his life had been ripped away from him.

Guilt flooded Kurt's veins and he was hit by a wave of nausea that made his stomach churn and his chest ache.

I was busy worrying about expensive face creams and designer labels while Blaine's most prized possessions were a dirty coffee cup and a bracelet made out of dead grass.

He shook himself when he felt Blaine approach his side, trying to push away the emotion that was no doubt, written all over his face.

Fake a smile.

Play dumb.

Blaine would be heartbroken if he knew that I pitied him.

The taller teen drew in a deep breath before turning towards his friend.

"Shall we go?" He forced a crooked grin to his face, reached his hand out for Blaine to latch onto and the pair stepped out of the safety of Blaine's bedroom and down the hallway towards the kitchen.

Blaine recognized the heavenly smell before they'd even reached the kitchen. His mouth watered and he could feel his stomach rumbling in anticipation.

Pizza.

Mr. Hummel had ordered pizza.

Blaine hadn't eaten pizza in months. His heart actually sped up as the mouthwatering scent filled his body.

Pizza.

I'm going to eat pizza.

Not even just the stale old crusts.

Real pizza.

With cheese… and…

Blaine stopped himself mid-thought.

Literally.

Kurt's hand had been entwined within his own, but when Blaine suddenly halted in his tracks, their fingers nearly slipped apart as Kurt continued to step forward.

Nearly, but not completely.

Kurt halted and turned back around, re-gripping Blaine's fingers in his own without once losing contact.

He looked at Blaine with concern and his blood ran cold when he saw the empty, yet terrified look in the boy's eyes as he stared off into the distance.

Kurt followed Blaine's vacant gaze across the kitchen until it came to rest on the kitchen table.

The kitchen table?

Then it dawned on him.

Blaine was staring at the pizza box on the table.

"Blaine?" Kurt whispered softly, unsure if the rigid boy would even hear him. "Are you alright? What's going on sweetie?"

Blaine never flinched. His eyes remained fixed on the white and green box.

Kurt was confused.

Doesn't he like pizza?

Why does he look scared?

Kurt was really confused.

"Blaine?" He repeated, giving the boy's fingers a gentle squeeze.

Nothing.

He's gone.

How does he even do that?

Kurt's thoughts were interrupted when a loud deep voice sounded from beside them, making him flinch noticeably.

"Hey boys! You ready to eat?"

If Burt's sudden presence startled Kurt, it absolutely frightened Blaine.

The teen instantly snapped out of his trance and darted sideways, ripping his fingers out of Kurt's hand and recoiling away from the booming voice. In his haste to flee, Blaine bumped into the small decorative table by the doorway and sent the glass vase containing his bouquet from Abby tumbling to the floor.

It shattered.

The flowers were strewn all over the floor and a puddle of water pooled around Blaine's barefeet.

Blaine's initial instinct was to step out of the chilly pool of water but before he could move three voices quickly shouted simultaneously.

"Stop!"

"Don't move!"

"No, Blaine!"

The trio of shouts deafened Blaine and he instantly sunk to the floor with a dull thud and pressed his hands tightly over his ears.

He didn't feel the shards of glass enter his knees and shins as he curled himself into the tightest ball he could manage.

He didn't hear the shocked gasps that echoed across the room.

He didn't smell the pizza anymore.

Several seconds of unnerving silence passed.

No one knew what to say or do.

It had been an accident.

No one had wanted to frighten Blaine. They hadn't meant to shout at him.

They were simply trying to protect him from the broken glass.

Kurt finally took a step towards the cowering teen and cleared his throat.

"B-Blaine?" His voice sounded as horrible as he felt. "I'm… I-… It's okay."

He took another step forward and placed his hand on Blaine's shoulder.

The ferocity with which Blaine was trembling sent daggers into his heart. The boy's entire body was vibrating violently.

Kurt could even hear Blaine's teeth chattering.

"Blaine… it's okay. You're okay. It was just an accident."

Nothing.

Kurt looked up at Burt and Carole with terrified eyes.

What do I do?

Burt took a step back, looking… devastated, but his eyes never left the terrified boy for even a fraction of a second.

Carole gulped, and pressed a reassuring hand to Burt's shoulder before taking several steps forward.

How can this be happening again?

"Blaine?" She spoke softly as she approached. "It's Carole, honey. Can you hear me?"

The boy sunk lower into his crouched position, pressing his knees lower and harder into the floor.

Carole grimaced as she saw the faintest trail of crimson pooling out from under Blaine's knees.

"Blaine honey…. I'm going to put my hand on your shoulder, okay?"

Nothing.

Carole slowly reached down and tentatively placed her hand on the back of Blaine's injured limb.

He didn't flinch, but his body began to sway back and forth manically.

"Sweetheart?" She whispered. "Are you there? Can you hear me? It's Carole…"

Nothing.

"Blaine?" She tried again. "Can you hear my voice?"

This time, the rocking slowed and Carole could see Blaine's hands relax just slightly from where they were pressed firmly against his ears.

"Blaine, sweetie? If you can hear my voice, can you nod your head a little bit?"

It was subtle, but the long curls on the top of Blaine's head quivered slightly as he nodded his head.

Carole started breathing again.

"Good… That's really good, Blaine." She praised. "Can you pull your arms down for me…?"

When Blaine didn't move from his position, Carole's heart sunk in her chest. But then finally, after what felt like a decade, Blaine's hands came away from the sides of his face simultaneously and he lowered his arms to his sides.

His head remained down, and his eyes disheartened. His body continued to tremble, but the rhythmic rocking motions had all but vanished.

It dawned on Carole then, and heat rushed to her face as she angrily realized what Blaine was doing.

He was on his knees.

His head was down.

He was limp.

Lifeless.

He was waiting for his punishment.

"Blaine!" She said urgently, and probably louder than necessary. "I'm going to help you stand now, okay? You're going to hurt your knees down there on the floor."

Her words were rushed, almost frantic, but she knew their importance.

She didn't even ask, like she knew that she should, but rather leaned in and pressed her arms around Blaine's torso and tried to lift him to his feet.

He startled slightly, and whipped his head up, meeting her gaze with wide, sad eyes.

"Come on." She ssaid softly. "Let's get you into a chair."

Kurt watched with wide, utterly confused eyes.

What is she doing?

She's going to scare him even more!

Why is she…?

Kurt gasped when he saw Blaine suddenly nod in agreement of Carole's suggestion.

The boy didn't look… confident… but he was back.

He's back.

Carole got him back.

Kurt quickly tiptoed over and grabbed a chair from next to the table and brought it closer to where Carole was still helping Blaine to his unsteady feet.

He moved the chair silently until it was only inches behind Blaine's knees and Carole helped him to sit down.

Once seated, Blaine's shoulders slumped, his head fell forward again, and he tucked his chin into his chest sadly.

"Blaine… I need you to listen to me, okay?" Carole spoke gently but firmly.

No response.

She took in a deep breath, trying to compose herself as much as possible before carefully using a single finger to lift the teen's chin. Blaine's head came up but his eyes still refused to look at the woman standing in front of him.

"Blaine…" She started again, "I need you to hear what I'm about to say… and to do that… I need to see your eyes."

The skin on Blaine's forehead creased then, his mind obviously conflicted, before he slowly allowed his sad, hazel eyes to drift until they met the concerned green ones in front of him.

"There you are." Carole whispered softly. "Good boy."

Blaine tensed and squeezed his eyes closed for a fraction of a second before forcing himself to swallow the lump of anxiety that had suddenly appeared in his throat.

It took every ounce of his remaining strength not to crumble, fall apart at the seams.

But he kept his eyes looking forward.

"Blaine, you didn't do anything wrong." Carole spoke softly, knowing the dire importance of her words. "We're not mad, or upset, or angry. We just didn't want you to hurt yourself in the broken glass."

Blaine's lower lip trembled, but he managed to keep himself looking forward.

He had to.

He didn't want to let anyone down.

Again.

"Blaine, do you understand what I'm saying?" Carole asked, seeing the boy's struggle to remain composed. "It's not your fault, honey. You understand that, right?"

He pulled his trembling lip in between his teeth and bit down on it.

Harder than he probably should have.

But he didn't flinch at the pain and he didn't taste the coppery-flavored stickiness that attacked his tastebuds.

He nodded.

Because that is what Carole wanted him to do.

"That's good, honey." She reassured, pressing a gentle kiss to the top of his head. "You did so good."

Carole broke her stare with Blaine for the first time and looked up to where Burt stood transfixed next to the kitchen table.

"Will you please get the first aid kit?" She asked.

Burt nodded and turned towards the hall closet without a word.

Carole turned her head the other direction towards Kurt, who'd turned as white as a ghost and was trembling slightly while standing several feet away from Blaine.

He wasn't touching him.

He wasn't even looking at him.

Carole's eyes contorted into a disconcerting frown as he took in the older teenager's broken appearance.

This one had taken a number on him.

"Kurt?" She asked softly.

His stare remained fixed on the same indistinct portion of the kitchen floor.

"Kurt?"

This time, his head quickly shot up and he looked at her with wide eyes, but he said nothing.

"Honey… do you mind getting a warm face cloth from the bathroom for Blaine?"

It seemed to take a few extra seconds for the words to sink into Kurt's mind, but eventually he nodded vacantly and turned to walk down the hallway without a word.

Carole sucked in a mouthful of air and allowed her eyes to drift closed for several seconds before she turned back towards Blaine.

His head was down again.

"Blaine, sweetie…?" She asked, once again lifting his chin with her finger.

Once their eyes had reconnected once again, she continued.

"How are you feeling? Would you like to talk? Its just you and me here now."

Blaine shook his head.

"Okay. That's… alright."

Carole lifted her hand to pull a few stray locks of dark curls away from Blaine's face, but the moment her fingers connected, he pulled away sharply, turning his head in the opposite direction, breaking the contact instantly.

Carole's heart fractured at the movement, shattered into thousands of tiny fragments.

Just like the vase.

"Honey…" her voice sounded as broken as she felt. "Honey… you're okay here. No one is going to hurt you…"

Blaine said nothing. He managed to keep his eyes on Carole, though it took an excessive amount of control.

Control.

Blaine almost scoffed at the thought.

There's no control…

Carole could feel the anger.

In the span of less than a second, the teenager in front of her had transformed from ashamed and terrified to angry and spiteful.

She pressed her hand onto his knee and looked him deep in the eye.

"Blaine. It's okay to be scared, or angry, or upset." She spoke softly, but her words were filled with emotion. "You can let it out. You don't have to keep it all inside."

Blaine blinked.

Thousands of thoughts and memories flooded his mind.

He wanted to scream.

Cry.

Shout.

Attack.

He wanted someone to yell at him, tell him to snap out of it.

He wanted someone to cry with him.

He wanted…

He just… wanted someone to hold him.

By this time, tears were streaming down his face and he couldn't stop them.

The flood of emotions that he'd kept buried deep inside of him bubbled to the surface and he couldn't suppress the wretched sob that emanated from the darkest depths of his soul.

He forced his eyes back up until he saw her.

Really saw her.

Carole.

"I…" He swallowed heavily "I'm sorry."

Carole heart healed slightly at Blaine's courageous attempt to speak, but then ached when she recognized his darkness of his words.

"I d-didn't mean to make you sad."

Blaine gulped again, fighting his every instinct to allow his head to drop. He kept his eyes looking forward, waiting for the woman in front of him to muster the strength to reply.

"Honey…"

She couldn't even think of what to possibly say.

There weren't nearly enough words in the English language that could possibly express to him how she felt.

So she didn't speak.

Instead, she pulled him into a tight embrace.

The exact embrace that Blaine had been craving.

He melted into her arms instantly as the tears continued to fall freely down his cheeks.

Blaine's shoulders shook as the waves of emotion rolled off his body.

He was safe.

And warm.

And cared for.

"It's okay, honey." Carole reassured softly into his curls. "You're going to be okay now."

Blaine continued to tremble under Carole's loving hands for several minutes until he felt like he'd regained enough composure to form a coherent sentence.

"I'm s-sorry about th-this afternoon… I'm s-so sorry."

Carole pulled the boy into her chest even tighter, throwing all caution to the wind.

This boy needed to be held.

Consoled.

Loved.

"It was my fault, Blaine." She whispered. "I shouldn't have pushed you like I did. I should have…"

But she didn't get a chance to finish, before Burt reappeared, holding the white first aid kit tightly to his chest.

Carole glanced at the man she loved over Blaine's shoulder while maintaining the all-important embrace. She shot him a look of relief, followed by a quick hand gesture, instructing the elder Hummel to walk around them and approach from the front.

Their private conversation would have to wait.

Burt did as he was instructed, taking a wide birth around the kitchen so he would be in Blaine's line of vision as he crept closer.

"I-I have the first aid stuff." His voice was gruff, choked with emotion.

He remained several steps away and waited until Carole had gently released Blaine and had given him an approving nod before he approached with extreme care and caution.

He really didn't want to set Blaine off again.

"Hi Blaine." Burt's voice is softer now, more controlled.

Blaine draws his eyes up at the man standing in front of him and gulps.

Has he always been this tall?

Burt immediately senses the boy's discomfort and lowers himself to his haunches, ignoring the protests of his aching knees.

Eye level.

We need to be at eye level.

"How are you doing, buddy?" Burt says, even softer now because of the lessened distance between them.

Blaine, feeling slightly less exposed, sucked in a breath to try and relax himself before he shrugged.

"I-I'm okay, sir."

Burt almost toppled over.

He wasn't sure what was more alarming, the fact that Blaine had spoken directly to him, or the part where he'd called him 'sir.'

Burt looked at Carole, whose eyes were nearly as wide as his own.

She'd obviously not expected it either.

"You can call me Burt, kid." The man said, and then added with a small grin. "Sir makes me sound old."

Blaine shrugged apathetically.

"Listen buddy… I'm sorry that I scared you… before." Burt brought a hand up and rubbed it against his bald head nervously. "I really didn't mean to startle you like that."

Blaine looked deep into the man's eyes.

They weren't the same color of intense blue that Kurt's eyes were, but it was plain to see where the beautiful flecks of green and gold originated.

Blaine looked beyond the color of the eyes staring back at him.

Deeper.

Longer.

He didn't see anger, or distrust, or… darkness.

He saw love, and genuine concern.

He saw Burt Hummel for the first time in his life.

"I-I know."

Kurt was standing at the bathroom sink, staring blindly into the mirror and allowing the hot water flood over the same blue face cloth he'd held in his fingers for the past few minutes trying to regain his composure.

Blaine had disappeared again.

It terrified him to remember how quickly and easily the boy could just… slip away.

And why?

What had happened to make Blaine lose himself in his head like that again?

They'd only just walked into the empty kitchen.

Nobody had been in there with them…

He'd been looking at the table.

There was nothing on the table except…

Oh.

Realization hit Kurt with the force of a freight train.

It was the pizza.

He'd been staring at the box of pizza.

At first Kurt thought it was literally the pizza that had set him off, but then… he realized… it wasn't the pizza… it was the pizza box.

Or rather… the name on the pizza box.

A chill ran up Kurt's spine as he considered what that pizza box might have meant to Blaine.

Had that kind of pizza been delivered to the motel or something?

Did they give some of it to Blaine?

Or… maybe they mocked him with it?

Maybe he didn't even get anything to eat at all…

Kurt snapped himself out of his demented reverie.

This isn't helping.

He filled his cupped hands with the hot water that flowed from the faucet and threw it up against the porcelain skin of his face.

It was hot – almost too hot, and he could feel the heat prickling against his delicate flesh.

But for some reason the sensation (The pain…?) made him feel… better.

He shook himself, sending tiny droplets of water tumbling off his face and out of his hair, and then he wrung out the facecloth and walked out of the bathroom to find Blaine.

When Kurt arrived back at the kitchen, warm cloth in hand, he was surprised to find Carole kneeling immediately next to Blaine with her right arm encircled around his torso.

Burt was crouching only a foot or two away from the pair, and Kurt was pleasantly surprised that his father's eyes looked… soft, and happy.

Kurt stepped quietly until he was standing next to Burt and kneeled down, carefully, as to avoid any shards of glass that may have travelled that far.

He handed the warm cloth to Carole, still not quite certain if he'd be able to form appropriate words.

He wanted more than anything to take the cloth himself, but he wasn't sure that he'd be able to control his fingers well enough to do any good.

Carole took the cloth from Kurt's trembling fingers and gave him an approving nod.

Kurt looked better.

Not perfect.

Not completely composed… but… better.

She could tell by the dampness of Kurt's hair that he'd splashed his face with water.

He was trying so hard to be brave.

Carole sighed and enveloped the cloth around her finger before reaching up and gently wiping away the crusted tear tracks from Blaine's cheeks.

The boy remained still under her touch, which relieved her to the core.

Once all of Blaine's tears had been wiped away and the boy was looking brighter, and fresher, she looked back up into his honey-hazel eyes and spoke softly.

"Blaine, is it okay if I lift up the legs of your pants so I can see if there's any damage from the glass?"

The teenager seemed to hesitate for several seconds before he pulled in a deep breath and nodded slowly.

Carole returned his nod with an approving smile, and reached down, slowly rolling up the bottoms of the soft cotton sweatpants that covered Blaine's legs.

She was pleased to discover that there wasn't significant damage from the glass; a few minor cuts and scrapes, but it didn't look as though any of the shards had embedded themselves under his skin.

"This might sting a little bit, okay honey?" She warned him quietly.

Only after Blaine nodded did she proceed to wipe away the thin trails of blood from below his knees, with a touch softer than a whisper.

Blaine remained stoic throughout the procedure, not flinching once, even when Carole came upon a small shard of glass that she'd initially overlooked.

Once she'd finished tending to both his legs, she applied some antiseptic ointment from the First Aid kit and covered the worst of the cuts with clean white gauze.

It was about fifteen minutes before Blaine was completely patched up and Burt had returned the First Aid kit to the closet.

When he returned to the kitchen, Carole had just finished re-assessing Blaine's injured shoulder.

"It seems to be okay." She said thoughtfully. "It might just be extra sore for a little while again."

Blaine nodded, glad that he hadn't done any significant damage to himself during either of his stupid outbursts.

"Shall we put your sling back on?" Carole suggested.

Blaine nodded again, and with a little help from Carole, he stood up from his chair. His legs wobbled slightly underneath him and he was surprised slightly when Kurt reached out to steady him.

He turned to look at the taller teen with wide eyes as Carole stepped away to fetch Blaine's sling.

Kurt gulped, not breaking the eye contact he'd finally managed to make with Blaine.

"I-I told you I'd never let you fall."

Once Carole returned with Blaine's sling and helped him back into it, Blaine was feeling a thousand times better.

He was safe.

He wasn't scared anymore.

Carole and Mr. Hummel weren't mad at him.

His shoulder felt much, much better.

And Kurt… Kurt was back with him.

His Kurt.

Yes, with all things considered… Blaine Anderson was feeling pretty okay.

Burt re-entered the kitchen (slowly and cautiously) and made sure he was in the curly-haired teen's line of vision before speaking.

"Are you hungry?"

Blaine's eyes widened suddenly as he remembered, and he quickly turned his head towards the table… to look at the…

White porcelain platter stacked high with slices of pizza?

His eyebrows knit together in confusion.

Wait…

Wasn't there a…?

Where did…?

At exactly that moment, Kurt appeared from the other side of the kitchen with a satisfied smirk on his face.

He noticed the look of bewilderment on Blaine's face and took the opportunity to break the silence.

"I put all the pizza onto the big platter, I thought it looked much nicer that way. What do you think, Blaine?"

Blaine's surprised eyes moved up to meet Kurt's, as if to ask 'how did you… know?'

Kurt was grinning.

He knew.

And he… fixed it.

Blaine could feel a flutter of hope fill his chest. The corners of his mouth turned up in the tiniest of smiles and he nodded.

"Uh… I-It looks… perfect, Kurt."

Carole and Burt, both oblivious to the exchange, breathed simultaneous sighs of relief as they watched the two boys move towards the table and sat down right next to one another.

Blaine looked across the table to the empty seat.

Finn's seat.

Carole immediately picked up on Blaine's unspoken question.

"Finn is… staying at Pucks again tonight." She said calmly, reaching for a slice of pizza.

Blaine's heart sunk.

He's still avoiding me.

He hates me so much that he's not even comfortable in his own home.

Kurt could hear Blaine's thoughts without them even being spoken aloud, and stepped in immediately.

"That's why there's only one… plate… of pizza. If Finn were here, we'd have had to of ordered at least three times as much! You should see how much that mammoth can pack away!"

Blaine forced a smile to his face; he appreciated Kurt's attempted effort to break the awkwardness of the situation, but that didn't ease the nagging feeling of guilt that remained in the pit of his stomach.

Several minutes later, Blaine found himself picking at his piece of pizza (barbeque chicken pizza to be exact). It was a difficult task with only one free hand. He struggled to maintain a firm grasp on his knife and fork, using the fingers that just barely stuck out from the sleeve of the sling to anchor the food to his plate while cutting bite-sized pieces off with his knife.

Carole watched as the boy struggled wordlessly. She had to bite her tongue several times to stop herself from asking if Blaine wanted her help to cut his pizza, but she knew that a medial task, such as this, no matter how long it took him to complete, was important for his healing progress.

He needed to do it on his own.

Suddenly and almost expectantly, the fork slipped from Blaine's fingers and crashed onto his plate with an earsplitting clatter.

Blaine immediately sat up straighter in his chair while desperately trying to pick up his fork with trembling fingers.

"I-I'm sorry." He sputtered nervously, still fumbling to fit the utensil back between his uncoordinated fingers.

"Blaine, buddy…" Burt said from across the table. "It's okay if you want to just use your fingers."

Blaine looked up at the man sitting across from him in disbelief.

His look on his face made it appear as though he thought Burt's suggestion was simply unheard of.

The teen looked around and immediately noticed that all three individuals that stared back at him were holding knives and forks in their hands, eating their pizza without a shred of difficulty.

Eating with his fingers like an animal was not an option.

"I-I'm fine, sir." He stuttered. "I-I can manage."

Carole watched sadly as the boy continued to struggle with the control of his utensils.

Blaine would successfully cut off a tiny sliver of pizza using his knife in his right hand while barely securing it with the fork in his left, then set down the knife, switch his fork back into his right hand and slip the tiny morsel of food into his mouth.

It was a painful process.

Carole sighed.

He's so polite.

Such perfect manners.

He's so… careful and gentle with everything he touches.

She thought back to earlier in the afternoon when Blaine was helping to decorate the Christmas tree.

It seemed like ages ago now.

The teen had been so careful with each of the delicate ornaments he'd handled.

Almost excessively careful.

It wouldn't be the least bit surprising if Blaine was suffering from Obsessive-Compulsive disorder.

Carole's heart clenched as she considered her hypothesis further.

After everything that he's been through, there's no doubt that he'd have the intrusive desire to control the few things he feels he can.

She remembered Kurt telling her about the items he'd found of Blaine's in the motel room.

Trinkets that any other person would not have thought twice about before throwing away.

He's trying to hang on to everything good in his life because he's scared it will all be taken away.

She wished with all her might that she could think of a way to convince Blaine to talk to someone.

A professional.

Before his actions became so excessive that they began to dominate his life.

She'd seen it before.

Patients admitted to hospital for psychiatric reasons.

The inability to cope without washing their hands after touching anything foreign.

Counting. They always seemed to be counting things.

The overwhelming desire to check and re-check tasks they've completed for errors or omissions.

Living in a state of constant fear and doubt.

Carole allowed her eyes to close for a moment to clear away the negative thoughts that flooded her mind.

I'm not going to let that happen.

He's safe now.

I'm going to keep it that way.

"You know what?" She spoke up suddenly, surprising even herself. "I'm going to use my fingers tonight."

She dropped her fork onto the placemat in front of her, picked up her slice of pizza and took a large, satisfying bite.

Kurt, from across the table, grinned. He picked up on her prompt at once and he too set down his fork.

Blaine turned to look at Kurt with wide eyes filled with disbelief.

The normally elegant-to-a-fault teen picked up his slice of pizza between his usually pristine fingers and took a Finn-sized bite out of the middle of it.

Blaine gasped.

What the…?

Kurt never eats with his fingers.

He constantly talks about how the oils from the foods would ruin…

"Aw hell!"

Blaine's thoughts were interrupted as Burt Hummel threw his fork down on the table next to his plate with a sly grin.

"If you two are gonna… then I sure the heck am too!"

Blaine couldn't believe his eyes as he watched the elder Hummel pick up a gigantic slice of pizza in his grease-stained fingers and shovel a good portion of it into his mouth in one bite.

Have they all completely lost their minds?

Chomping.

Blaine looked around the table and all he could hear was the sound of teeth ripping apart too-large bites of pizza.

"What are you waiting for?" Burt asked with a sparkle in his eye, after he'd swallowed his mouthful of pizza. He then took another insanely large bite; his mouth was so full of food that his next words were muffled to Blaine's ears.

"Dis is howmpf peeepha is memph to be eatum."

Blaine couldn't believe the absurdity of the situation.

They've cracked.

They've all completely cracked.

I thought I was suppose to be the messed up one…

As the hilarity of the situation reached its climax, Carole couldn't hold back her grin.

Blaine's face was priceless.

He looked genuinely concerned for the people sitting around the table.

But the breaking point was when Kurt burped.

It wasn't outrageously loud, or obnoxious (like something Finn might do) but it was so… un-Kurt-like that she couldn't contain it any longer…

She snorted.

An honest-to-goodness snort that even Kurt was proud of.

Carole's hand immediately flew up to her mouth. She was mortified.

Kurt thought it was hilarious.

So he giggled.

The burp and the snort, combined with Kurt's inappropriate giggle sent Burt into a fit of laughter.

Hearty, gleeful laughter, right from the gut.

Blaine felt like he'd stepped inside an episode of the Twilight Zone.

They're all laughing.

Why are they all laughing?

He knew they weren't laughing at him.

He wasn't sure how he knew it, but he did.

But he couldn't understand what the sudden laughter was all about.

Maybe it was because the sound was so foreign to his ears, or maybe because the source of their elation wasn't really even that funny.

Either way, he didn't care.

All Blaine knew was that it sounded nice.

Really nice.

Perfect, even.

He felt his cheeks flush with warmth as a smile crept up the corners of his lips.

He ran his tongue over his top teeth and considered his options.

Finally, he sat his utensils down carefully on his placemat, took a deep breath and picked up his pizza in between the fingers of his right hand.

And took a bite.

They finished the rest of their meal without further complications (aside from a few giggle attacks from both Kurt and Carole).

Blaine had ended up eating almost two full pieces of pizza, which was significantly more than he'd eaten in some time.

They didn't even make him eat the crusts.

He'd felt bad at first, feeling as though he was wasting such a precious commodity.

Sometimes the stale crusts of pizza were all he'd get to eat when he…

No…

No…

Blaine refused to allow his brain to wander back to the dark places.

He couldn't believe it when they didn't make him eat the crusts. Even Kurt left his on the edge of his plate.

Blaine wasn't sure if that was normal practice for Kurt, or if it was just another selfless act, but either way… it made Blaine feel less anxious about leaving the food on his plate.

"God, I'm full!" Burt announced, holding his hands to his rounded belly. "That was actually pretty good."

Kurt smirked.

"See dad? Even healthy pizza is good pizza."

Blaine's lips tugged upwards at Kurt's knowing tone.

Of course the chicken pizza had been Kurt's choice.

"Anyone for ice cream?"

Burt's question startled Blaine.

Didn't he just say…?

"And bananas?"

How could he possibly still be hungry?

"And peanuts?"

Blaine's eyes widened at the thought.

Peanuts?

"Topped with chocolate sauce?"

Sold.

Carole was already up at the counter preparing the desserts when Kurt leaned over to Blaine and whispered.

"I try and tell him to eat healthy, so he eats chicken pizza… then tops it off with an ice cream sundae."

Blaine couldn't hide his amusement. He ducked his head down to hide his smile.

Then he thought about how relaxed and… nice… he'd felt during dinner.

The casual conversation.

The giggle attacks.

He sighed.

Screw it.

I don't wanna hide anymore.

He brought his head back up and looked at Kurt with a grin.

Not even a forced grin... an original.

"But the bananas are fruit so it cancels out the bad stuff."

Kurt looked a bit shocked at Blaine's words. He'd not expected the boy to speak, let alone crack a joke.

Burt heard the exchange and let out another hearty laugh.

"I like this kid!" He exclaimed cheerfully. "Kurt, you could learn a thing or two from him."

Blaine grinned at that and looked back at Kurt, who, even as hard as he tried, couldn't stop the smile that graced his fine features.

Carole brought over a large bowl heaped with a delicious looking sundae and set it in front of Burt.

"Blaine? Kurt? Would you boys like one?"

Kurt shook his head, counting the calories in his father's dish from where he sat. "No thanks, I'd prefer not to have a heart attack before I turn eighteen."

Blaine's stare was fixed on the bowl in front of Burt.

It looked… amazing.

Rivers of chocolate sauce were dripping down the sides of a huge mountain of ice cream and bananas and he could see a scattering of peanuts lying underneath the gooey goodness.

But he shook his head.

He'd already eaten so much.

More than he should have.

More than was polite.

"Are you sure honey?" Carole asked. "There's plenty."

Blaine managed to pry his eyes away from the scrumptious looking bowl of pure deliciousness for long enough to look at Carole and shake his head again.

"I-I'm okay, thank you Carole."

She paused, giving him a second to change his mind before turning back to the counter and preparing her own (much smaller) portion of ice cream.

She returned to the table a few minutes later and saw that Blaine was still staring at the sundae in front of Burt.

It was obvious that he wanted one.

She took a small bite of her own dessert and moaned louder than was appropriate.

"Great idea you had, honey." She said, winking at Burt. "This is delicious."

Blaine literally had to bite his lip to prevent a whimper from leaving his mouth.

Maybe they'd just let me have a bite…

No.

No, I can't ask for anything more.

"The peanuts are what sets it apart." Burt said, taking another scoop and hungrily jamming it into his open mouth.

"I disagree." Carole had heaped a portion of her dessert onto her spoon and was examining it very, very closely. "It's the chocolate. Definitely the chocolate."

Kurt looked at the two adults sitting across from him like they'd lost their marbles.

What the hell is wrong with them?

Oh god.

This isn't some kind of sex thing is it?

Ew.

He turned his head towards Blaine to ask him if he had any idea what they were going on about, but the moment he laid his eyes on the boy sitting next to him, everything sunk into place.

Blaine was staring at the sundaes.

His desire was so strong, that Kurt could almost hear the teen salivating.

But his wide, honey-hazel eyes looked conflicted.

He wanted one, yes… Blaine definitely wanted a sundae, but he was obviously too afraid, or maybe… too shy…to ask for one.

Even when it was blatantly offered to him.

Kurt thought for a moment, trying to come up with a way to make this work.

"Blaine?" He asked. Then, when the teen's head turned towards him, he continued in the most innocent voice he could produce. "Is there anything you need?"

Blaine gulped.

Yes.

Yes yes yes yes yes.

He shook his head.

Kurt's eyes narrowed. "Are you sure? Maybe you'd like something more to eat?"

Blaine sighed.

I want ice cream!

Even in his head he realized that he sounded like a spoiled toddler.

He certainly didn't want the Hudmels to think he was a spoiled toddler.

So he shook his head again.

"N-no, thank you, Kurt."

Kurt frowned, distraught that his plan hadn't worked. He looked up at Carole who gave him the subtlest of nods.

He had to try again.

"Blaine?" The innocent voice was back.

Blaine turned in his seat again to meet Kurt's gaze.

"Would you like a sundae?"

Blaine gulped.

The option was there.

All he had to do was say yes.

Just… yes.

Three letters. That's it.

Yes.

Yes.

Yes.

"Yes."

There were three relieved and ecstatic intakes of breath heard at the table, but they fell on Blaine's deaf ears.

He'd done it.

He'd asked for dessert.

He… got what he wanted.

Kurt stood up next to him and pressed a gentle kiss to the side of his head, just above his ear.

"I thought so." He whispered. "I'll make you one, okay?"

Blaine nodded numbly, still obviously shocked with himself.

Kurt pranced (literally pranced) over to the counter, exceedingly happy with himself.

There was a very un-masculine squeak that left his lips when he saw what was waiting for him when he got there.

Carole had already known.

There on the counter, was a teeny Blaine-sized serving of ice cream, covered in a few slices of banana, a handful of peanuts and a generous serving of chocolate sauce.

Blaine's belly was full.

For the first time in a long, long time… he'd eaten too much.

And it was awesome.

He couldn't keep the smile off this face as he placed the last glass on the counter next to the sink.

He realized that he was grinning like a loon, but he didn't care.

He felt great.

Carole had even allowed him to help clean up after they'd finished dinner.

Of course, he couldn't do much with only one arm, but he was busy clearing off the table, and that made him feel very, very happy.

"Blaine, honey…?" Carole asked from beside him. He spun around and was met by a large plastic bag with the remaining slices of pizza from dinner. "Would you mind putting this in the fridge for me?"

He nodded, taking the bag into his hands. "Of course."

For the first time, it didn't feel weird or uncomfortable answering her without a second thought.

It felt… right.

Blaine stepped towards the large white refrigerator and, while balancing the bag of pizza on the top of his sling, he pulled open the heavy, vacuum-locked door.

And almost gasped.

The fridge was… full.

Blaine had never seen so much food in his entire life.

There were two cartons of milk and a pitcher of water beside jugs of both orange juice and apple juice on the top shelf along with dozens of condiments of every variety. The middle shelf was stacked high with an assortment of meats and cheese, multiple plastic bowls filled with what looked like leftovers, and… a huge chocolate cake with creamy looking icing spread over the top of it.

But that wasn't what caught Blaine's eye.

It wasn't the cartons of milk, or the meat, or even the cake that made his chest fill up with hope and excitement.

It was the endless mountain of fruits and vegetables of every color on the bottom shelf that made Blaine's eyes widen.

He almost dropped the pizza.

It was… beautiful.

There were apples and oranges and grapes and… a watermelon?

Oh god, there were peaches!

Peaches!

And the vegetables…

Carrots and celery and broccoli and onions (Blaine didn't even like onions and he was excited to see them) and peppers of colors Blaine didn't even know peppers came in…

It was unbelievable.

Blaine's stomach was still full, so full, from dinner but he couldn't stop staring at the amazing assortment of fruits and vegetables on display in front of him.

It was like a supermarket on steroids.

And it was in their house.

"Blaine?" Kurt's voice from beside him startled him, and he really did drop the bag of pizza on the floor. "Is… is everything okay?"

Blaine shook himself from his trance and bent down carefully to pick up the bag of pizza, which was no worse for wear.

He found a small space on the second shelf, next to a carton of eggs, that he slid the package into before retreating and closing the door.

"Are you still hungry?" Carole asked, having watched the progress of his discovery unfold from the other side of the kitchen.

Blaine shook his head with wide eyes.

"No ma'am, I'm very full." He answered politely. "I just… I've never…"

Carole smiled, knowing full well what he was trying to say.

"You're welcome to help yourself to anything you like from in there, Blaine." She said with a grin. "You live here too. That food is just as much yours as it is mine or Kurt's."

Blaine's jaw dropped.

He couldn't believe this was happening.

Yep, this was turning out to be a pretty darn good day.

Once the dishes were finished and the table was cleared off, Carole suggested the four of them move to the living room and enjoy a family movie before bed.

Blaine's heart jumped in his chest at Carole's chosen words.

Family.

They really do think of me as part of their family.

As they walked into the living room, Blaine was shocked at the number of Christmas ornaments and decorations that adorned the walls.

He'd almost forgotten about them.

It felt like so much time had passed since he'd spent the morning with Carole decorating.

He reveled in the cozy atmosphere, taking in the sights as though it was his first time seeing all of his own handiwork.

He remembered with a soft gasp that it was Kurt's first time seeing it all.

He'd almost forgotten to show Kurt his new treasures!

Blaine quickly strode over to the giant tree and pulled off his music note ornament and showed it to Kurt proudly.

Then he showed Kurt where his very own Christmas stocking hung next to Kurt's on the mantle.

Just like he belonged with the Hudmels, so did his stocking.

Kurt's eyes widened excitedly as Blaine led him around the room hand-in-hand, showing him the Christmas tree Burt had delivered, the window decorations, the flowers, and finally, the tiny village scene on the top of the piano.

They'd stood in front of the shiny black piano for several minutes, both taking in the tiny details of each piece of the village before Blaine finally gathered his courage and asked the question he'd been dying to ask since the first time he'd been inside the home so many weeks prior.

"K-Kurt?"

"Mmmhmm?"

"Does the piano make you sad?"

Damn it.

It had sounded so much better in his head.

"Sad?" Kurt asked, his curiosity peaked. "Why would it make me sad?"

Blaine thought for a minute, trying to come up with a way to express himself that didn't sound so juvenile.

"Well… I-It was your mom's… right?"

"Oh." Kurt said softly. "I see what you're getting at."

He turned towards Blaine and gently lifted the boy's chin so he was looking directly into the pair of hazel eyes only a few inches lower than his own.

"I miss her, but… it was a pretty long time ago so I don't really feel sad as much anymore." Kurt explained. "I miss hearing her play. She used to teach lessons to other kids, I remember that."

Blaine watched as Kurt's eyes became distant, as though he was remembering something from long ago.

He tensed for a moment, afraid that Kurt recalling past events might make him scared, before realizing that unlike himself, Kurt had good memories in his head too.

He would be okay.

"She played almost every day." Kurt explained. His voice was soft, but not sad. "It used to fill the house with happiness. I miss that."

He returned his gaze to Blaine, who remained standing directly in front of him, but with his eyes focused somewhere down by his feet.

Secretly, Kurt had been waiting for this question. He'd seen Blaine staring at the piano several times in the past few days and it didn't take a genius to figure out what the troubled teen was really probing for.

He'd hoped that Blaine would be able to ask the question for himself, but when the words didn't seem to be coming, Kurt decided to help him over the hurdle.

"Blaine… would you like to play my mom's piano?"

They were like magic words.

Blaine's head shot up and his eyes were wide, open and excited instantly.

He wanted to scream out YES!

He had to refrain throwing himself into Kurt's arms and thank him for finally asking him the question he'd been longing to ask himself.

But instead, Blaine took in a deep breath and tried to compose his thoughts.

He'd said yes already once tonight.

It would be… easy to do it again.

Blaine's mind filled with visions of ivory keys dancing underneath his fingertips.

He missed the piano.

He missed hearing the sounds and feeling the vibrations.

He missed the music.

The happiness.

The peace and the comfort of losing himself in the notes.

He really, really wanted to say yes.

So he did.

Blaine glanced up at Kurt with twinkles in his hazel eyes, tiny glimmers of hope, for the first time in a long time. He looked like a small child who'd just discovered Christmas as he swallowed, before nodding slowly and allowing his lips to part.

"Y-yes Kurt… I'd really like that."

An unfamiliar emotion flooded into Blaine's chest, hitting him like a tidal wave.

It took him several seconds to realize what it was.

Happiness.

He was feeling… happiness.

He never imagined that he'd get to experience that feeling ever again.

After everything that he'd been through…

He just couldn't believe it was possible.

All Blaine knew was that he wanted to hang onto that feeling for as long as he possibly could.

If he was being honest, he was hoping that Kurt would pull up the heavy cover that protected the precious cargo underneath it.

He wanted to see them.

Feel them.

He wanted to make sure that the gorgeous ivory keys were real, and that this wasn't just another trick.

But the case remained closed.

A discovery for another day.

At first, Blaine's heart ached as they stepped away from the piano he'd so desperately craved to touch.

But then Kurt explained to him that he thought it would be best if Blaine waited until his shoulder was feeling better before he attempted to play.

It made sense.

But still… Blaine found himself feeling sad.

Not disappointed or angry, just… sad.

What if Kurt never offered him the opportunity to play again?

What if…

What if he never found the courage to ask?

But then, Kurt said something that engulfed Blaine with hope once again.

As they walked over to the couch and Blaine sat down, Kurt leaned in and told him that he could decide when he felt good enough to play the piano, and that he didn't even have to ask for permission.

"I can't wait to hear you play again."

Blaine's hazel eyes lit up brighter than the most brilliant of all the Christmas tree lights and his crooked smile returned to his face instantaneously.

Kurt grinned for a moment at Blaine's apparent elation before he squeezed the boy's fingers gently.

"I just have to go and speak with Carole for a few minutes, but I'll right back and we'll watch a movie, okay?"

Blaine nodded, the smile still giving his face a glow that Kurt hadn't seen in weeks.

"Maybe you and my dad can pick something out to watch? He'll probably wanna see some silly John Wayne flick or something so I'm trusting you to keep him in line, okay?"

Blaine nodded with a very audible giggle and Kurt's heart did a flip-flop.

If that's all I have to do to hear that beautiful sound, I will gladly give up my future plans and be a stand-up comedian.

"Okay." Kurt said, pressing a gentle kiss to Blaine's forehead. "I'll be right back."

He turned and walked out of the living room and towards the kitchen just as Burt appeared in the doorway.

The elder Hummel took his place in his armchair and watched as Blaine sat waiting patiently for Kurt to return.

He couldn't help but notice that the teen was constantly stealing glances at the glorious instrument across the living room.

It was as though with each longing look, he was simply confirming that the piano was still there.

Burt sighed.

The kid really wants to play the piano.

If he was being honest, the thought alone made his heart soar.

Not only would it be a huge step in Blaine's progress if he were to start playing again, but Burt couldn't help but have slightly… selfish reasons to support the prospect as well.

He missed the sound of the piano echoing throughout the house.

It had been years since anyone had even touched it.

Burt had secretly always wished that Kurt would decide to continue his lessons after his mother's passing, but for whatever reason, the boy had steered clear of the pristine black piano.

He'd catch his son glancing at it sadly every now and again, but not once did Kurt ever open up the cover and allow his fingers to grace the keys.

And Burt was never about to push him into it.

He'd considered getting rid of it once or twice throughout the years, but he could never bring himself to do it.

It was the last of Elizabeth's personal possessions that remained in the house.

She used to always say that it was the most important thing she ever owned.

That it was her heart.

And Burt certainly wasn't about to throw away Elizabeth's heart.

Burt shook himself out of his reverie and returned his eyes towards Blaine, who was still sitting quietly on the couch, his fingers nervously fumbling with the loose thread on his sling.

"You doing okay, buddy?" He asked softly.

Blaine's eyes snapped up and locked into Burt's, as though he'd temporarily forgotten that the man was sitting only meters away from him.

"Yes, sir." He answered robotically.

"Kurt just… had to talk to Carole for a minute." Burt reiterated. "He'll be back soon."

Blaine nodded. "Okay."

Burt wanted to say more, but he didn't want to push. Blaine speaking to him was a huge step. He didn't want to risk another set back.

"Mr. Hummel?"

Blaine's timid voice startled Burt; he'd not expected to hear the boy initiate a conversation.

"Uh… yeah?" He answered dumbly. "What's up, kiddo?"

Blaine sucked in a deep breath.

The worst part was over; he'd already spoken the first words, now all he had to do was continue to let them flow.

"T-thank you sir." Blaine's tongue stumbles only slightly. "F-for letting me stay here, I mean."

Burt was speechless.

He had no idea what to say.

You're welcome?

That didn't even begin to cover what he was feeling at that moment.

"Kid…" He started, after clearing the emotion from his throat. "You are part of our family now. You've helped Kurt through so much, whether you believe it or not… I know it's true. And for that… you are welcome to stay here for as long as you want."

Blaine's eyes widened following the man's speech, but he didn't get a chance to reply before Burt got up from his chair with a slight groan, walked over towards the couch and knelt down in front of the nervous teenager, so they were once again at eye level.

Burt slowly lifted his hand, indicating to Blaine exactly what he was about to do, and placed it gently, impossibly gently, on the top of Blaine's left knee.

Blaine was surprised, but he didn't flinch.

"Kid..." Burt said, looking the boy directly in his eyes. "I know that you don't feel like it… and you probably won't even believe me, but I'm gonna say this anyways…"

Blaine didn't move.

He didn't even breathe.

"Blaine, you've got this… total friggin' awesomeness inside of you. And when it finally hits you… you're going to need sunglasses to see it."

Blaine had no idea what to do.

Burt's words were ringing in his ears. He wasn't even sure if he understood them, exactly, but… he felt so… warm.

He deliberated for a few minutes about the peculiar feeling in his chest, but was so unfamiliar, it couldn't place it.

Then it hit him.

Pride?

Was he actually feeling… proud… of himself right now?

It was such a foreign feeling, but it flooded into his chest, and filled him up like a waterfall of emotions.

He wanted to speak, to say… thank you… or… something.

But the words were stuck.

His tongue was tied; the words trapped in his throat.

He wished he could just say… something.

Anything.

He wished that he could just reach out… and…

Blaine gulped.

I can do this.

He breathed in a mouthful of courage and reached his hand out, cursing himself when he noticed how violently his fingers were trembling.

His hand moved across his lap… slowly, until his shaky fingers rest on top of Burt's much larger ones, still placed gently on his own knee.

Burt's eyes widened as Blaine's hand squeezed his fingers.

It's not much, the touch barely there, but at this point…

Blaine's just run a marathon.

"T-Thank you, sir."

Burt's heart was suddenly too big for his chest.

There were no words, or thoughts, or… anything… to help him now.

He turned his hand, just slightly, only enough to reciprocate the squeeze, and gave the boy a solemn nod.

He didn't trust his voice.

His throat felt tight; he was pretty sure there was a baseball stuck in there somewhere.

Damn it.

Are these tears?

Burt cleared his throat gently, but strong enough to get rid of the damn baseball, and climbed to his feet in front of the uneasy teenager.

Burt sniffed away the… the…

Stupid allergies…

Damn itchy eyes.

Is it hot in here?

He cleared his throat again and then squeezed the boy's uninjured shoulder lightly before taking a step back from the boy on the couch.

"Burt." He affirmed, happy to hear that his voice has somewhat returned to normalcy.

Blaine looked up at the man curiously but didn't speak.

"You can just call me Burt."

Blaine nodded as he watched the man sink back into his armchair.

When Burt was finally seated and he'd reclined back into a comfortable looking position, he picked up the remote and clicked on the television.

"Kid… Have you ever seen Ferris Bueller's Day Off?"

The moment Kurt walked back into the cozy, heavily-Christmas-decorated living room, Burt looked up from where he was watching the opening credits of the movie and flashed him a look.

Kurt returned the look with what was meant to be a subtle nod.

Not subtle enough.

Blaine noticed.

A chill ran up his spine and he shifted uncomfortably in his position on the couch.

What was that?

Was that… about me?

Kurt stepped closer to Blaine, silently, and he seemed to be having trouble looking Blaine directly in the eye.

Blaine's heart began to pound in his chest.

What's happening?

Why won't he look at me?

Kurt finally reached the couch and sat down carefully next to Blaine. He sucked in a deep breath before turning to Blaine with a smile.

A forced smile.

"So…what movie did you pick?"

His voice wasn't right. It was… off… somehow.

"Please tell me it's not a western."

It was apparent that Kurt was trying to mask his true emotions.

Blaine wasn't buying it.

He ignored the question and turned to look at Kurt.

Once again, the eyes that were usually magnetically attracted to Blaine's were wandering elsewhere.

"Kurt…" Blaine spoke softly, unsure of himself. "W-what's wrong? Why won't you look at me?"

Kurt's heart sunk down to his perfectly pedicured toes.

He knew he shouldn't have tried to hide himself from Blaine.

"I…" Kurt started with a sigh. "I was going to wait until after the movie."

Blaine's panic rose higher in his chest.

He looked at Kurt with wide, scared eyes.

But he didn't have to speak. His huge, honey-hazel puppy dog eyes spoke louder than any words the teen could have articulated.

What is going on, please just tell me now, please?

Kurt drew in a long, hesitant breath and quickly glanced over to his father who simply shrugged his shoulders.

Your call, kid.

Kurt sighs, and turns back to face Blaine, who looks as though he's about to jump out of his own skin.

"Blaine…" Kurt says softly. He grabs the teen's trembling hand and holds it between his own, desperate to stop Blaine's fingers from shaking so much. "It's about tomorrow."

Blaine's triangular eyebrows flatten on his forehead in confusion.

What about tomorrow?

"I-I have to go back to school."

Oh.

Blaine tried hard not to allow the sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach to reflect on his face but he can feel his body tense up, so he's certain that Kurt would have felt it too.

Right.

School.

He drew in his own deep breath.

I'm okay.

I need to be brave.

For Kurt.

He nodded once he'd rediscovered his voice several seconds later.

"I-I understand."

I can just stay with Carole again.

Maybe we can make cookies, or…

Kurt cleared his throat and continued, unintentionally derailing Blaine's train of thought.

"…and Carole has to work at the hospital."

Oh.

Blaine's eyes widened as he considered Kurt's words.

Oh.

I'm going to be… alone.

I have to stay here all by myself.

His heart was racing now, threatening to pound right through his ribcage and tear out of his chest.

Brave.

Brave.

Brave.

I have to be strong.

He gulped and looked up at Kurt. His mouth felt very dry and he wasn't even sure if the words would come out or not, but he had to try.

"It's o-okay, Kurt…" He whispered. "I-I'm used to being by myself."

This time it's Kurt's eyes that widen in shock.

"Blaine!" He exclaimed louder than necessary, considering the boy is only inches away from him. "That- that's not at all what I meant!"

Blaine lifted his head from where he'd been purposefully looking to the floor, carefully avoiding Kurt's eyes.

He was confused.

If… that's not what he meant… then…?

"My dad is going to be here Blaine!" Kurt explained. "You won't be alone, honey. Ever. I promised you that and I always keep my promises."

Kurt leaned in and took Blaine into his arms.

He could feel Blaine's tense shoulders relax instantly as their bodies melted together.

"You don't have to be alone." He murmured over and over again, rubbing his hands through Blaine's matted curls.

Kurt was angry with himself for allowing Blaine to even think that he'd leave him alone.

It tore his heart to pieces when he realized that Blaine was willing to do it too.

He had been ready to accept it and was prepared to stay home alone all day.

A tear slipped down Kurt's cheek as he pulled his best friend in closer.

"I'd never do that do you, Blaine. Never." He cried. "I promise."

It was several minutes before they pulled apart.

Blaine was looking a thousand times more relaxed and Kurt seemed to be less upset with himself.

"A-are you okay?" Kurt asked, wiping his fist across his swollen eyes.

Blaine nodded.

"Are you?"

Kurt laughed through the last of his concerned sobs.

Of course Blaine would ask that.

"Yes, Blaine." He answered truthfully. "I'm perfectly fine."

They settled back into the couch and each took another deep breath before Kurt launched into his explanation.

"I'm so sorry I scared you, Blaine." He starts. "I shouldn't have said it like that. I wasn't thinking. I just assumed…"

Kurt had to take a second to gather his thoughts before he continued.

"We'll never EVER leave you here by yourself. What I meant to say… what I should have said… was that my dad is going to stay here with you tomorrow." Kurt looked up at Blaine with concern in his eyes.

"I wasn't sure… how you'd take that… so I was scared to tell you… I'm so sorry."

Blaine finally realized for the first time what Kurt's anxious and scrambled words were insinuating.

I'm going to be here tomorrow… alone… but with… Mr. Hummel.

A shiver snaked up his spine.

He knew he shouldn't be worried.

It's only Mr. Hummel.

Kurt's dad.

He wouldn't…

I can trust him.

He won't hurt me.

Without warning, sounds and images popped into Blaine's mind from the evening following the football game when he'd met Burt Hummel for the first time.

His words had been so… angry.

'You're the homophobic asshole who has been giving my son trouble at school!'

'Listen here you little prick…'

'I will have you arrested for assault. Do you understand me?'

'I said… do you understand me?'

Blaine physically shuddered as he remembered his final threat.

'I'm warning you son… one word...'

He'd thought for certain that the menacing mammoth of a man was going to hit him.

Kurt felt Blaine's fear streak through his body and squeezed his hand.

Blaine pressed his eyes closed, desperate to push the memories from his mind.

He didn't know me then.

He wouldn't do that now…

I can trust him.

The moment the word 'trust' floated into his headspace, Blaine winced.

Trust.

I don't trust anyone.

Not anymore.

Not after what he did.

Not after…

Blaine shuddered again, so violently this time that it shook the cushions of the couch.

"Blaine?" Kurt sounded worried. "A-are you alright?"

Kurt's voice halted the memories immediately and the teen turned his head and looked around the living room, re-confirming his surroundings.

As he watched Blaine glance around the room hypnotically, Kurt couldn't help but think that they'd just narrowly avoided another panic attack.

"Blaine?" He asked again, his voice no louder than the softest whisper.

The younger teen drew in a breath so deep that his shoulders raised up against his neck before turning back towards Kurt.

"I-I'm okay." He stuttered.

"It's going to be alright, Blaine." Kurt reassured, giving Blaine's fingers another gentle squeeze. "He won't hurt you. I promise."

Blaine nodded.

Kurt keeps his promises.

I can trust Kurt.

If he says that I'll be okay tomorrow… then… I think I can believe him.

It worried him slightly that even in his head, he had to try and convince himself.

Burt cleared his throat from where he'd been watching the scene play out in front of him in his armchair.

Blaine had been close to another panic attack, that much was obvious, and Burt knew that if he was going to have any luck keeping the kid calm tomorrow… he was going to have to lay some groundwork.

"Blaine?" He spoke as softly as his gruff voice would allow. "I promise too, okay? Everything is going to be just fine tomorrow. We'll hang out only as much as you want to. If you'd rather spend some of the time in your room, that's okay too. I understand. But just know that you're safe here, okay?"

It took all of Blaine's strength to nod.

"I've got a bunch of hockey games saved on the PVR that I was hoping to catch up on. Maybe you'd like to watch some with me tomorrow?"

Blaine felt another squeeze from the delicate fingers holding his own as he gulped and gave the man another nod.

There were several minutes of very awkward silence before Carole entered the living room with a smile and a large bowl of popcorn.

"Who's ready to watch a movie?"

The movie wasn't even halfway finished when the doorbell rang.

Burt flashed Carole a questioning look as he climbed out of his chair, but was met only by an uncertain shrug.

They weren't expecting company.

Burt was gone all of thirty seconds when he called for Carole to come to the doorway.

Blaine's skin prickled.

Something is wrong.

He gulped and craned his head to the side, desperate to pick up any part of the conversation in the hallway.

He knew he shouldn't eavesdrop, but he had this feeling…

A really, really bad feeling.

Kurt picked up on Blaine's discomfort and squeezed his fingers underneath the blanket that they were curled together under.

He was just about to ask Blaine if he was okay when Carole re-entered the living room.

Her hands were clasped together in front of her, fidgeting nervously and she looked… agitated.

Blaine's heart plummeted.

He was right.

Something is wrong.

Really, really wrong.

"Blaine…" Carole said quietly as she approached the couch. She tried to keep her face neutral, but was failing miserably.

She was scared.

"There's… someone here who would like to talk to you." Her voice wavered slightly. "A police detective."

Kurt felt the exact moment the words sunk into Blaine's mind.

He physically felt the blood drain from Blaine's hands as his fingers turned to ice.

Kurt turned towards Blaine to tell him that he didn't need to talk to the detective if he wasn't ready, but the second he saw Blaine's face, he forgot how to speak.

He forgot how to breathe.

Blaine was white.

He'd seen Blaine while he was in the hospital recovering. He'd been pale then, but this was worse.

Much, much worse.

Blaine was so still that it didn't even look like he was breathing.

And his eyes.

If Kurt thought that Blaine's eyes were empty earlier when he was in the midst of his panic attack… he'd never seen emptiness before.

Blaine, the boy who'd come so far in such a short amount of time; finally digging up the courage to ask for the things he desired, who'd talked more today than he had in weeks, was gone.

Really gone.

He'd disappeared in the blink of an eye.

And that scared the absolute shit out of Kurt.

He squeezed Blaine's icy fingers, hoping and praying to a god he didn't believe in that he'd get something back… even the slightest tremor to ease his anxiety.

Nothing.

"B-Blaine?" Carole's voice was broken as she took in the sight of the petrified teenager sitting in front of her. She too, was astounded by Blaine's sudden departure.

Kurt slipped off the couch and kneeled in front of the boy, who'd not moved even an inch.

He still wasn't convinced that Blaine was still breathing.

"Sweetie?" Kurt choked on his own words, surprised at the weakness of his voice. "I-I need you to listen to me, okay?"

Even though there was no indication that Blaine had even heard Kurt's words, he had no choice but to continue.

"Can you hear my voice, Blaine? Can you feel my hands on yours?"

Nothing.

"I need you to come back, Blaine. I need you."

Kurt wanted to reach up and shake him.

Wake him up.

Scream at him to come back.

He couldn't do this again.

He couldn't just… disappear.

"Blaine, please!"

Kurt's words became more and more desperate and tears began to slide down his cheeks as he pressed his fingernails firmly into Blaine's skin in a flash of terrified anger.

Even the pain didn't bring him back.

"Honey… please come back." Carole tried, next to him. "We aren't going to let anyone hurt you, Blaine. Please… just come back."

Nothing.

Blaine's hollow body remained in the same stock-still position, his empty eyes staring straight ahead.

He looked dead.

Kurt shuddered at the thought.

What if he didn't come back this time?

What if this was the last straw for him?

What if this was the time that his brain finally gave up on him?

He'd been so strong, and so brave to fight through everything that he had.

But… what if he was too tired and he'd finally just… given up?

Kurt couldn't handle it.

He wasn't going to let that happen.

"Damn it, Blaine!" He shouted. "I need you to come back! Don't you dare do this to me! Not now. Not after everything…" His voice trailed off and his body was wrecked with sobs.

"I need you, Blaine." He blubbered. "I need you... I can't do this without you... I need you… Please don't leave me… please…"

Carole didn't know what to do.

Kurt was falling apart.

He was on his knees in front of Blaine, literally begging for him to come back.

Come back.

Come back from what?

From where?

Where did he go?

She didn't know what to do.

She cursed her stupidity.

Why hadn't she just told the detective that Blaine wasn't ready?

She knew he wasn't ready.

He was barely talking to them, let alone a complete stranger.

Damn it.

Damn it.

DAMN IT.

Now she was at a loss, uncertain of what could possibly be done to bring Blaine out of his nightmare.

She was a nurse for godsake; surely she should be able to do something…

She considered calling an ambulance, but quickly waved the thought away. If Blaine snapped out of his… his… attack… and was surrounded by strangers touching him and poking him with needles, he'd be destroyed. They'd lose him for sure.

Medication was not an option.

She had to be the boy's advocate.

She'd seen what even suggesting medication to him this afternoon had done to him.

Mediation was definitely not an option.

She needed something else.

She needed… Burt.

Carole felt awful leaving Blaine in his current state, but she couldn't help herself.

She got back up to her feet and rushed out of the living room to find the strongest man she knew.

Kurt was wrecked.

He had melted into a soggy, sobbing mess.

Tears were still pouring out of his red, puffy eyes and down his sunken cheeks.

He'd trying everything.

Nothing was working.

He'd begged Blaine to come back.

He'd sung to him.

He'd screamed at him.

Nothing was getting through to the boy on the couch.

He was gone.

And Kurt was almost convinced that this time, it was for good.

"P-please d-don't d-do this t-to me." His pleas were broken and barely audible.

"I-I c-can't live without you. I n-need you so much."

He wasn't even sure what he was saying now; the desperate words just kept tumbling out of his mouth.

"P-please Blaine, please c-come b-back. I-I'll do anything to g-get you back."

Kurt's head fell hopelessly into Blaine's lap, but he refused to let go of the boy's hand.

His frigid fingers were like the last lifeline to the empty husk of a boy left in front of him.

He was exhausted, but he refused to give up.

He continued to beg, and plead, and cry and hope.

He couldn't give up hope.

"P-please Blaine." His voice was even quieter now, spent from overuse and desperation.

"Please, j-just come back. Come b-back to me. P-please don't l-leave me."

"You c-can't leave m-me alone, Blaine… p-please… I-I love you."

Kurt lost it.

His cries switched from desperate to devastated.

That wasn't how it was suppose to happen.

He didn't want to tell Blaine he loved him like this.

It was suppose to be romantic, with flowers and candles and…

Ohmygod.

Kurt's head shot up.

They moved.

The fingers moved.

He was sure of it.

"B-Blaine?"

He couldn't see through the clouded haze of tears, but he was certain he'd felt Blaine move his fingers underneath his own.

"B-Blaine, please… can y-you… can you hear me?"

He waited.

And waited.

Nothing.

He was about to burst into another fit of anguish when he felt it again.

And damn it… he knew it felt it for sure that time.

"Blaine!" He cried. "I'm here! I'm right here! Come back for me sweetie… please… just come back!"

Another wiggle.

Kurt almost lost his mind.

A fresh round of tears rolled down his cheeks as he squeezed back.

"I'm here! Come back Blaine, I'm right here!"

Kurt saw Blaine's eyes flicker and he jumped to his feet in front of him.

"That's it… please… keep trying… please come back!"

Blaine blinked.

Once.

Twice.

"Oh! Thank god!" Kurt shouted.

He couldn't help himself, he darted forward and pulled the still-dazed boy into his arms and held him for all he was worth.

He was back.

Blaine had fought though the fog and had come back to him once again.

After several seconds of holding him so tight that he could have suffocated the poor boy, Kurt could feel Blaine's hands begin to stir and he pulled away carefully.

Blaine was looking at him.

His eyes were still very hazy… and half-closed in a sleepy sort of way, but they were looking at Kurt now, and not through him.

"Blaine…" Kurt managed to lower his voice to barely above a whisper, despite the relief, which flooded his veins. "Can you hear me?"

It took an extra second for the words to register, but finally after a lifetime of Kurt waiting on the tips of his toes…

Blaine nodded.

"You're okay now, Blaine. You're safe. No one can hurt you, okay?"

There was no nod this time.

Kurt frowned, but decided to continue.

"Do you remember what happened?"

He watched as Blaine's eyes grew dark, almost black, and it sent a chilling shiver up his spine.

He remembered.

"It's okay." Kurt jumped in quickly, and squeezed Blaine's fingers. "You don't have to answer. Would you like to go to your room? We can finish the movie another time."

Blaine's eyes finally wandered from their position, and Kurt knew exactly what he was looking for.

"They'll send him away." Kurt explained hopefully. "They won't make you see him or talk to him, okay? Not until you're ready."

Blaine didn't respond.

"What do you say?" Kurt tried to sound hopeful. "Would you like to go lay down? Maybe you need a rest…"

Blaine nodded.

Kurt stood up and offered Blaine his hand.

It broke his heart just a little bit when Blaine hesitated before reaching out and taking Kurt's fingers in his own.

Blaine was very unsteady on his feet when Kurt helped him up, so he wrapped his arm around Blaine's torso and assisted his every step.

It took them a painful amount of time to reach the bedroom, not dissimilar to when Blaine had first arrived at the house, and Kurt silently prayed to anyone who would listen that the teen had not regressed back to that point.

Once inside Blaine's bedroom, Kurt flipped on the light switch and assisted Blaine over towards the bed.

He helped the weakened boy sit down on the edge of the soft bed and took a step back.

Blaine was staring at the door.

When Kurt made no movement towards it, Blaine looked up at him with desperate eyes.

Lock it.

Kurt sucked in a devastated breath.

He moved towards the door and pulled it closed gently.

Before touching the lock, he turned back to Blaine, who remained on the very edge of the bed. He'd brought his hand up and was running it over the top of his hair mindlessly, but he was still staring at the metal lock.

Please lock it.

Kurt clicked the lock into place.

Blaine heard the sound and looked back up at Kurt, while still flattening his curls nervously with his right hand.

Is it locked?

"It's locked, Blaine." Kurt confirmed, his voice wavering slightly with sadness.

Blaine looked doubtful. He craned his neck, as though attempting to look around Kurt and see for himself.

Kurt's own eyes fell closed in disbelief and his heart shattered.

He doesn't trust me anymore.

He moved to the side, giving Blaine a full view of the door. And the lock.

"It's locked."

Blaine's terrified eyes slipped back up to meet Kurt's

Are you sure?

A single tear rolled down Kurt's face.

"I promise."

Nothing else was said.

Blaine refused to have his regular bath before bed and he wouldn't change into his pyjamas, choosing rather to climb into bed wearing the same sweatpants and T-shirt that he'd donned the entire day.

Kurt didn't fight him on it.

Blaine was laying on the bed, in his regular spot, on his back looking up at the ceiling.

Kurt approached the bed slowly.

"B-Blaine?"

When the younger teen refused to turn and look at him, Kurt continued.

"W-would you like me to leave, or c-can I stay in here with you tonight?"

Blaine gulped as he considered Kurt's question.

The fact that he even had to think about it sent daggers through Kurt's already shattered heart.

After several minutes, Blaine finally shrugged and pulled back the covers just slightly, indicating to Kurt that he would give him permission him to stay.

Kurt released the breath he'd been holding for far too long and quickly, but carefully, climbed into the bed beside Blaine.

They laid there, both on their backs for several minutes, in the most awkward of silences.

Kurt could feel the tension emanating off Blaine's body and he longed to reach out and hold him.

But he knew that would be a fatal error at this point.

"A-are you okay?"

It was a stupid question, Kurt knew for sure.

Of course Blaine wasn't 'okay'.

"Do you want to… talk about it?"

The accompanying silence was deafening.

It was several minutes later when Kurt heard a disgruntled huff of breath come from the teen laying next to him.

He carefully turned his head to see Blaine, still lying on his back, with his eyes open, staring upwards.

He looked… irritated.

It looked like he was concentrating on something.

It took a moment for the pieces to fall into place.

Blaine was counting his stars.

Kurt watched sadly, as the teen was silent for a while as he counted, but then grew frustrated, obviously losing count, and then starting the process over and over again.

He knew neither of them would sleep tonight.

He wished he could just hold him, and tell him that everything was going to be okay.

But he could feel how rigid Blaine's body was lying next to him and he knew that wasn't even an option and he kept his hands to himself.

At one point, Kurt unintentionally neglected his no-hands rule and reached out carelessly to move a stray curl that had fallen over Blaine's face.

The teen violently flinched away from Kurt's touch, and brought up his own hand to neurotically flatten the long, playful curls on the top of his head.

Kurt sighed.

It was going to be a long night.

Blaine was cold.

Incredibly cold.

His back ached from lying crimped on the unforgiving floor of his tiny metal prison.

His hands ached from where his wrists were bound together above his head for hours on end – Blaine wasn't even sure why they did that; it wasn't like he could go anywhere.

His legs ached from being curled up underneath him.

The rest of his lower half… yeah, it definitely still ached.

His entire body ached.

Blaine was shuddering so violently that he could hear his teeth chattering, but he was unsure if it was on account of the cold, or the drugs, or…

He was miserable.

His brain had spun every scenario over the past…

How many days?

He'd lost count.

He tried to keep his tears at bay.

They didn't like it when he cried.

But sometimes, when he was alone in the dark (was it nighttime again?) he would allow himself the opportunity to shed a few silent tears.

A tear for the pain.

A tear for the memories.

A tear for… Kurt.

God, he missed Kurt.

He tried not to think about him; it was awful to associate him into his mind with everything else that was jammed in there.

Kurt didn't deserve that.

But he missed him so much.

He needed him.

He knew what he was doing was fucked up.

That much was certain.

But somehow along the way, his brain had been molded into believing that he was doing this for the right reasons.

He had to do this.

He had to protect Kurt.

He'd do anything for Kurt.

He had already done anything for Kurt.

Another shill screamed up his aching spine and he tugged against his restraints, desperate for relief.

It didn't come.

He'd lost feeling in his shoulder days ago.

He was certain it was beyond messed up. Probably irreparable.

Not that he was ever going to get out of here to use it anyways.

No.

He couldn't think like that.

He had to stay positive.

An image of Kurt's face popped into his mind.

The epitome of beautiful perfection.

Kurt was keeping him going.

If he didn't stay focused…

No.

He had to stay positive.

He startled when the door into the motel room creaked open and a tiny sliver of light illuminated the blackness where he lay.

He squeezed his eyes shut.

They're back.

It didn't seem like long enough since… the last one.

Maybe there will be more… appointments now.

Blaine shuddered.

He hated the appointments.

He tried to regulate his staccato breathing, desperate to make it appear as though he was asleep.

Not that it ever made a difference.

He heard the footsteps creep closer and closer to his… cage.

As much as it chilled him to admit it, there was no other word for it.

He was locked in a cage.

He heard the gentle click of the light switch and could see a faint glow of light from behind his closed eyelids.

He waited.

He waited for the gruff, horrible voices.

Ominous chuckles.

Rough hands.

Foul breaths.

But they never came.

Instead, a new voice sounded from somewhere to his left.

"Blaine?"

The softness of the voice startled him more than any of the scary ones ever had.

He froze. Too terrified to even breathe.

Who is that?

"Blaine…" The gentle voice continued. "My name is John. I'm a police officer and I'm here to help you."

Blaine gasped.

He hated himself for showing his hand so quickly, but he couldn't contain his surprise.

A… police officer?

Was here?

He fought with every thread of strength he had remaining not to open his eyes.

He didn't want to see.

He didn't want to open his eyes and realize that he'd been wrong.

He'd been tricked enough.

He wasn't going to take any chances.

"Blaine?" The voice was so soft. So gentle. "Can you hear me?"

Their voices weren't soft and gentle like this.

Maybe… maybe he was here to help.

He heard the footsteps approach him and felt the slightest rush of air as the man kneeled down beside the cage, slowly and cautiously.

"I'm going to untie your hands, okay?"

Blaine forgot how to breathe.

He tried not to flinch when he felt a pair of warm hands touching his own frozen ones.

But suddenly… he was free.

The ropes were gone.

The immediate relief to his wrists and injured shoulder was enough to make him let out a sigh.

"I'm here to help you, okay?"

Blaine wanted to believe it, he really did, but he was still so, so scared.

He heard the man fumbling with the padlock on the door of the cage and his heart fluttered in his chest.

Was he really going to get him out of here?

Was this… this man… really going to help him?

The door of the cage swung open slowly and Blaine felt the presence of the man slip away.

He'd opened the door and had taken a step back.

"You can come out now." The voice said calmly. "I won't hurt you."

Blaine finally allowed his eyes to drift open.

He risked a look around him.

His hands really where free.

There were rope burns, and they were tingling as the circulation returned to his fingers, but they were… free.

This man was actually helping him.

He hesitated.

Can I really trust him?

He remembered the man's words.

He's a police officer.

He's here to help me.

Maybe… Maybe Kurt sent him here to find me.

He's a police officer.

Police officers help people.

He's going to help me.

I can trust him.

Blaine lifted his head slowly and looked at the man for the first time.

He was wearing a suit.

A fancy suit.

It looked expensive.

He wasn't wearing filthy jeans or sweatpants like the rest.

He looked… professional.

He looked like a cop.

Blaine sucked in a staggered breath.

He was safe now.

He'd been rescued.

He could… go home.

He paused at that thought.

Home.

Even with the insanity of his current situation, a tiny smile formed on his lips.

Home.

The first image that had come to his mind was the Hummel's house.

Kurt.

He could finally go home to Kurt.

Slowly, carefully and painfully, Blaine managed to crawl out from inside of the cage.

He ignored the pain.

It didn't matter anymore.

He was going home.

As he slipped past the final cool, metal bar, he couldn't help but think to himself that he'd never have to be in the cage again.

He was going home.

Home to Kurt.

Once he was crouched outside the cage door, Blaine finally found the strength to look up at his rescuer.

The man was thin and very tall; he had neatly trimmed sandy blonde hair and a rather large nose.

His eyes looked… friendly.

After seeing so many pairs of dark, horrible eyes… Blaine allowed his heart to feel a tiny flutter of hope when he looked into these ones.

"Hello there." The voice said. "It's Blaine, right?"

Blaine nodded silently.

"Thank you for coming out to talk to me." The man looked genuine, and Blaine allowed his shoulders to relax slightly. "Can I help you to sit down?"

Blaine hesitated.

He wasn't really comfortable with anyone, especially a male stranger, touching him.

But this man was a police officer.

He was going to help him.

He nodded.

The man stepped slowly towards Blaine, knowing that the boy would be hesitant to accept his touches.

He reached out a hand and was ecstatic when the boy placed his own fingers inside of it and allowed him to help him to his feet.

He placed a gentle arm around Blaine's middle when his legs wobbled underneath him; it had obviously been a while since he'd stood on his own power.

The man helped Blaine over to the bed and allowed him to sit of the edge of it.

It was soft.

So much softer than the floor of the cage.

His backside stung at the pressure but Blaine didn't care.

He was going home.

"Blaine… I need to ask you a few questions before we can leave, alright?"

Blaine nodded.

Anything.

Whatever it takes.

I just wanna go home.

"You're what… sixteen?"

Blaine nodded.

"And you've been kept here against your will, obviously." The man sounded like he regretted the question the moment it had slipped from his mouth.

Blaine gulped, and nodded again.

"Can you tell me the names of the… perpetrators who did this?"

It sounded so official.

Blaine shook his head.

He didn't know their names.

Only their faces.

"Okay. That's alright. You're doing great, Blaine."

Blaine attempted to shift himself on the bed slightly, trying to take some of the pressure off his throbbing backside, but instead, a shooting pain surged up his shoulder and into his neck.

He gasped and his other hand shot up and grabbed at his aching extremity without his permission.

"Blaine?" The man's voice sounded concerned. "Are you alright?"

Blaine couldn't help the tears.

It hurt so bad.

But he needed to be brave.

He had to answer the questions so he could go home.

He nodded.

"Have you injured your shoulder?"

Blaine's eyes widened.

He's a police officer, I can't lie.

He nodded slowly.

The man reached forward without thinking and Blaine flinched away from him suddenly.

"It's okay." The man reassured. "I won't hurt you, I just want to make sure that you're okay."

Blaine looked up at the man's eyes doubtfully.

"I'll be very careful with it. I promise."

Blaine sucked in a breath.

He's a policeman.

He won't hurt me.

He nodded.

"Why don't we pull up your shirt so I can see how bad it is?"

Blaine froze.

Every cell in his body was screaming at him to refuse.

Say no.

But he was a police officer.

You can't say no to a police officer.

So Blaine nodded and allowed the man to help him slide out of the tattered remains of the shirt.

Kurt's shirt.

Blaine sat on the edge of the bed, feeling incredibly exposed.

His bare chest, covered in bruises, cuts and burns in the open for all the world to see.

"Oh, you poor thing."

The man's fingers traced over the darkest of Blaine's bruises, and Blaine had to close his eyes and bite his lips not to cry out.

"It's okay son. I won't hurt you."

Blaine hates the touches.

He hates the feeling of a stranger's fingers touching his sensitive skin.

But he has to admit that this man's touches are gentle, not rough and horrible like the other men.

His hands were clean and soft, not dry and callused with grungy fingernails.

He winces at the thought.

"Blaine… I know this is… very, very hard, but we need to inspect… everything."

Blaine blinks, unsure of what the man is asking.

"I uh- need to assess the damage below as well."

Blaine doesn't want it to be true.

He was hoping to just sign on the dotted line and go home.

But he realizes now that it's simply not an option.

He has to do this.

Only one more time, and then he can go home.

Kurt.

Kurt. Kurt. Kurt.

I can do this for Kurt.

He nods, albeit unwillingly.

"Can you… please take down your jeans?"

He gulps, looking down at the filthy denim covering his legs.

Kurt's denim.

The jeans aren't even fitting him properly anymore; they hang much more loosely than he remembered.

They're torn, filthy and covered in stains.

Stains that Blaine doesn't even want to think about.

"Do you… need me help you?"

The words startle Blaine; he'd almost forgotten the man's presence.

He shakes his head.

I can do this.

One last time.

I can trust him.

He's a police officer.

Blaine stands up from the bed with a painful gasp. His legs are weak and wobbly, and he's forced to reach back with his hand and steady himself against the solidity of the bed for a moment before he continues.

Then he reaches down with his right hand and tugs down the denim. He's lost so much weight that he doesn't even need to unbutton them. They slide off completely.

He tries to find solace in the thought that at least he got to take them off himself this time.

The denim slides down his thin legs and lands in a puddle by his feet.

He's standing there shivering, feeling… exposed and naked.

And then he remembers… that he is.

They don't let him wear underwear.

"Good boy." He hears just vaguely. The voice sounds like it's underwater. "You're such a good boy."

Blaine waits.

And waits.

His trembling gets worse as he stands in the middle of the dingy motel room stark naked, waiting for something to happen.

Is he going to take pictures for the file?

That's usually what the detectives do on TV.

He ignores the searing pain in his shoulder and wraps his arms around his torso protectively.

It's almost over.

Almost done.

Then I can go home.

Kurt.

Kurt.

Kurt.

It's almost over.

Blaine takes a breath and re-opens his eyes.

When had he closed them?

The man was still staring at him.

What is he doing?

Why is he staring?

Am I that… damaged?

"You have beautiful hair."

Blaine blanched.

What?

"Gorgeous curls."

The prickling was back around Blaine's heart.

What the fuck is he talking about?

Please just take the stupid pictures so I can go.

Please.

I just want to go home.

"Why don't you lay down?" The man says. "You look so exhausted. I don't want you to fall over."

Blaine can feel his legs turning to jelly.

He doesn't want to fall.

He knows how much it hurts his… everything… when he falls.

He doesn't want to, but he nods.

It takes him a few tries to step out of the jeans that are piled at his feet, but eventually, he does and manages to climb up onto the bed and lay on his back.

It hurts.

A lot.

But he wasn't about to lay with his back to this man and there's no way he can lay on his injured shoulder.

So he sucks his lip between his teeth and bites down, hard, to mask the pain.

Blaine painfully draws his left knee up into his body, a vacant attempt to conceal his most private area from the man.

The police officer.

Not that it matters now.

Blaine's private areas haven't been private in a long time.

His body is trembling harder than it ever has before, and this time, Blaine's certain it's not from the cold.

He waits again.

But the man keeps staring.

And then finally… the moment that changed everything.

"Touch yourself."

Blaine's blood ran cold.

Within seconds, all of the hope, and positivity and… strength is gone.

He stops breathing.

He's… he's one of them.

He's not here to help me.

He's one of them.

Blaine's not sure how much time has passed since his revelation, but suddenly the man is beside him.

His eyes don't look as warm now.

The man… the liar… reaches his hand down and lowers Blaine's leg to the bed.

"Let's just move this down so I can watch you, shall we?"

Blaine can't fight it.

He's shattered.

Everything that he thought was right… was wrong.

Everything he'd hoped for… lost.

He wasn't going home.

"You're such a good boy, aren't you?"

The man's words bring acid to Blaine's lips.

He wants to throw up.

He wants to scream.

He wants to run.

But he can't.

He's cemented in place.

The man's hand slides up Blaine's naked thigh, over his abdomen and up his chest.

Blaine shivers as goose pimples form in its wake.

The cold, untrusting hand meets Blaine's fingers and pulls them down over his own body, further and further down until…

Oh.

Oh god.

He's making Blaine touch himself.

Coaching him softly.

Whispering unheard words and praises into Blaine's ear as he runs his free hand through Blaine's tangled curls.

"Such a good boy."

"You're my good boy."

The hand tightens and tugs on his hair.

"Such beautiful hair. I love your gorgeous curls."

Blaine whimpers.

He's helpless.

Hopeless.

I trusted him.

He was supposed to help me.

I trusted him.

"I want you to make yourself come while I watch."

Tears slide down Blaine's cheeks.

But he doesn't try to hide them.

He doesn't even care.

Nothing matters.

Not anymore.

Nothing could be any worse.

Blaine forces himself to obey the man's request, touching himself with quivering fingers until he comes shamefully.

He is angry with his body for betraying him.

For responding to the unwanted touch.

Even if it was from his own hand.

There was no pleasure.

No pain.

Just… emptiness.

He barely feels the man flip him over and move his arms above his head.

He barely feels the cold, hard metal of the handcuffs clicking into place.

Police issued handcuffs.

But he does feel the soft, barely-there touches of the man's hands on his already damaged skin.

He does feel the man's fingers pull roughly on his curls; so hard that it arcs his throat back.

He does feel it when the man splits him open with his hands and enters him gently.

He feels every single one of the slow, careful thrusts.

And they feel much, much worse than any of the rough, reckless ones ever had.

Gentle hands.

Gentle hands were so much worse than the forceful ones.

They were still pressing into his skin.

Blaine feels that his hands are free from the handcuffs now.

He's not sure when that happened.

He doesn't even want to remember.

He's had enough.

He can't take it anymore.

It's too much.

He bolts up and pushes against the weight of the man.

He can't help it.

He wants him… gone.

The gentle hands try and pin his arms down against his sides.

So he fights harder.

He's not doing this anymore.

It has to stop.

With every ounce of strength, determination and courage that he had left…

Blaine pushed.

He heard the body tumble off the bed and hit the floor with a satisfying thud.

He'd done it.

He'd pushed him away.

He'd made it stop.

But then… he heard the crying.

Blaine froze.

Something didn't make sense.

I made him cry?

Blaine blinked, trying to clear the haze from in front of his eyes.

The crying continued, transitioning into heavy, gut-wrenching sobs.

Something wasn't right.

Finally his vision cleared and he looked around.

He expected to see a table, and a cage and… awful, awful things.

But he didn't see any of that.

Instead, there was a dresser with a large oval mirror, a desk with a swivel chair next to a bookshelf and… stars.

Stars?

He caught his first glance of them out of the corner of his eye and looked up.

Hundreds of tiny stars twinkled above him.

Everything sunk into place.

He wasn't at the motel.

He was…

Oh shit.

Kurt.

Blaine bounded over to the side of the bed, ignoring the protests of his aching shoulder and looked down on the floor.

Kurt was laying crumpled in a mess of limbs.

His Kurt.

His Kurt was crying.

Blaine's heart shattered at the scene in front of him.

He'd done this.

He'd made Kurt cry.

Kurt suddenly looked up from his place on the floor.

And Blaine almost died when he saw it.

Kurt's face…

Gone was the beautiful, flawless boy he knew so well.

He…

He looked terrified.

Blaine drew in a sharp gasp.

He's scared of me.

I've turned into the monster.

I hurt him.

I'm no better than they are.

I'm a monster just like them.

The thought sickened Blaine.

He closed his eyes to ease the nausea but all he could see was Kurt's terrified eyes.

So he ran.

He launched himself off the bed and across the floor.

It took him several seconds to fumble with the heavy metal lock, but the moment he pried it open and flung open the door…

He was gone.

Kurt was so stunned by Blaine's reaction that he couldn't think straight, but the moment the boy fled from the room, he shook off his own fears, wiped the tears from his eyes and chased after him.

Kurt had half expected to find that Blaine had run right out of the house in his moment of self-doubt and terror, so he was surprised to see the light on in the bathroom across the hallway.

He stepped slowly, carefully, unsure of what he'd find.

When he'd woken to Blaine sobbing and whimpering in his sleep, all he'd done was press a gentle hand to the top of the boy's shoulder.

But it had still been too much.

Blaine had still been too volatile.

Too afraid.

He'd not expected Blaine to shove him as hard as he had.

Kurt had toppled out of the bed and landed hard on his back, with the wind knocked out of him.

It was a terrifying feeling, not being able to breathe.

It wasn't Blaine's fault, but Kurt knew damn well that's exactly what the younger teen had assumed.

Kurt gently pushed open the door to the bathroom and his heart plummeted when he saw the trembling teenager leaned over the bowl of the toilet.

The sound of Blaine's dry heaves made Kurt's own stomach clench, but he forced himself to step softly up beside him and kneel down on the cool tile floor.

"Blaine." He whispered. He took a chance and placed a gentle, soothing hand on the middle of the retching boy's back, and rubbed careful circles into his skin. "I'm here, you're okay now."

Blaine tensed under Kurt's careful touch.

Why is he even here?

He should be scared of me.

I'm a monster.

Another wave of nausea hit him, causing him to heave once again into the cold porcelain bowl.

I'm a fucking monster.

I'm disgusting.

I'm a sick freak who touches himself while people watch.

It took a while, but eventually Blaine's tremors began to subside and his muscles relaxed against the cold porcelain of the toilet.

"A-are you okay?"

Kurt felt like an idiot the moment the words slipped out.

Of course Blaine wasn't okay.

"I mean… are you still going to be sick?"

Blaine cringed.

I'll always be sick.

He forced himself to shake his head.

"Okay, why don't you sit back and I'll get a warm cloth for your face."

Blaine didn't understand.

Why is he being so nice to me?

He should hate me.

He forced himself to draw back from the toilet and leaned against the wall next to the bathtub.

His eyes barely registered Kurt reaching into the drawer, pulling out a blue face cloth and running it under the faucet.

The taller teen returned to Blaine's side seconds later, and looked at him with gentle eyes.

"Blaine… can I… help you clean up?"

Blaine swallowed nervously.

His throat felt tight and it was like he could still feel the handcuffs binding his wrists.

They itched.

I'm sick.

You shouldn't touch me.

I'm sick.

But when he looked up and saw the look of genuine care in Kurt's eyes and it gave him just the tiniest flutter of hope.

He nodded.

Kurt took a deep breath and dabbed at Blaine's face with the warm, damp cloth.

He couldn't help but notice Blaine nervously scratching at his wrists. It was almost as though he was still re-living some of his nightmare.

"It's okay now, Blaine" He reassured softly. "You're safe."

The scratching didn't stop.

Kurt rewarmed the cloth in the sink and took a second pass at wiping Blaine's face.

He jumped slightly when his fingers slipped up to smooth out an unruly curl and Blaine recoiled from the touch.

Please don't touch my hair.

Please, just stop.

Please.

Kurt stopped.

"You're okay, sweetie." He reassured. "You're okay."

His encouraging words didn't seem to be helping.

Then Kurt decided to try something else.

"You didn't hurt me, Blaine."

Large, hazel eyes darted up to meet his own.

Finally.

"You didn't." Kurt reaffirmed. "You just startled me, that's all."

Blaine's eyes softened just slightly.

Finally.

"You pushed away who you thought was bad." Kurt explained. "See? You are strong and brave."

Blaine gulped, still nervously scratching at his wrists.

He could see that the handcuffs were gone, but it was like he could still feel the metal digging into his flesh.

He could still feel the hands.

He could still feel…

Blaine hissed as his fingernail managed to break through the skin of his left wrist.

But he didn't stop scratching.

"Blaine… please, stop that." Kurt pleaded, trying to keep his voice controlled. "You're hurting yourself, please stop."

Blaine's eyes were distant again, as though he was remembering.

Re-experiencing.

Kurt dropped the cloth and tried to pull Blaine's hand away.

It was like an iron grip.

And Blaine kept scratching.

"Blaine!" Kurt's voice lost its control then. "Cut it out!"

Finally, Blaine gasped and his arms went limp.

It seemed as though he'd pulled Blaine out of his trance so Kurt lifted his chin until he could see Blaine's eyes.

They were empty again.

He was shaking. Violently.

"I'm going to get a blanket." Kurt announced. "You're freezing."

He stood up carefully and looked back down at the trembling teen with sad eyes.

"Then we'll talk, okay?" His voice sounded almost as panicked as he felt.

He knew he shouldn't leave Blaine like this. He knew it.

But his brain was so messed up that he wasn't sure he'd be able to keep control of himself.

He needed a break.

Blaine nodded hypnotically. He wasn't even sure what he'd just agreed to.

The moment he felt Kurt's presence leave the tiny bathroom, Blaine ripped his arm out of his sling, not even feeling the pain that surged through his neck and began scratching nervously at his wrists once again.

Disgusting.

Ruined.

Sick.

Appalling.

Each word accented another scratch, deeper and deeper into his flesh until he felt the cool flow of blood trickling down his arms.

Blaine looked down and stared numbly at the trails of crimson rolling down his wrists.

It was almost hypnotic.

Cut it out.

He remembered Kurt's words.

Those were the words that brought him back this time.

Cut it out.

He forced himself to his feet and stood next to the sink and looked into the mirror as the blood continued to streak down his arms, staining the countertop and the floor.

He didn't recognize the shaggy-haired boy that stared back at him.

The face in the mirror made him sick.

I am sick.

Infected and disgusting.

Blaine stared into the mirror, entranced by the repulsive stranger staring back at him.

Cut it out.

Blaine's eyes widened at the idea.

I need to get rid of him.

He unsystematically ripped open the cupboards and drawers of the bathroom vanity, hearing Kurt's words echoing through his head.

Cut it out.

Cut it out.

Cut it out.

He tossed aside hairbrushes and bottles of creams, lotions and scrubs.

There has to be something…

Something sharp.

Anything.

He continued to burrow through the items in the drawers, desperate to find something that might work before Kurt came back.

I have to cut him out.

Finally, he found what he was looking for.

A razor blade.

Blaine picked up the blade and held it up to the light, inspecting it carefully.

He was completely oblivious to the drops of blood still falling from his wrists as he studied his latest treasure with a manic glint in his eyes.

The fierce looking metal shone, gleamed even as the faint light from the bathroom reflected off the lethal edge of the shiny silver blade.

Perfect.

Kurt was distraught.

Okay… maybe that was an understatement.

Kurt was fucking terrified.

The look on the Blaine's face as he sat on the bathroom floor had literally slaughtered a large piece of Kurt's soul.

He'd looked… devastated.

His eyes hadn't only looked void and despondent, but… hopeless.

Blaine had gone catatonic four times in the past 24 hours.

Four.

Kurt didn't like that the number was increasing every day.

He'd really hoped that they'd made some progress today, what with the Christmas decorating, the family dinner and movie.

But it was like every time they took a step forward with Blaine's progress, they got knocked two steps back.

Or nine.

Everything seemed to be unraveling at the seams.

And Kurt didn't understand why.

It was obvious that Blaine was nowhere near ready to meet with the police to discuss what happened in that motel room.

But the way he'd pushed Kurt away – both emotionally and physically, following his last episode…

It was getting harder and harder to see any glimmer of hope in the situation.

And it was getting harder and harder for Kurt to keep trying to.

All he knew was that there was a terrified teenager in the bathroom and he needed to go back in there.

It scared him to think that he almost didn't want to.

He had to remind himself that it was Blaine in there.

Blaine.

The boy he'd promised to take care of.

I'll never let you fall.

He took a deep breath as he stepped into Blaine's bedroom.

Kurt felt as though Blaine would benefit from something familiar and comforting, so he padded into the bedroom and pulled off the heavy mink blanket from his bed.

He turned to walk back out of the room, but hesitated, turned around and grabbed Thumpy too.

"I might need you for this one, old friend."

As he stepped back into the hallway, Kurt concluded that he had two choices.

He could go wake up his dad and Carole and get them to help console the troubled boy, or he could walk back into the bathroom and deal with it himself.

I could really use some back up on this one.

He knew it was late, likely after 3am, so he took a deep breath, shrugged the heavy blanket over his shoulder and padded towards the bathroom in his barefeet.

I need to do this alone.

Kurt was relieved to see that the door was still slightly ajar, based on the thin slice of light peeking between the door and the frame.

He stopped for a moment before pushing it open and took several deep breaths.

I can do this.

Blaine needs me.

It's going to be okay.

All the pep talks in the world would not have prepared him for what he would see when he finally pushed open the bathroom door.

Blood.

So much blood.

Blaine was standing in front of the mirror with a razor blade in his hands.

His bloody hands.

"No!" Kurt screamed, dropping both the blanket and the plush rabbit to the floor outside the bathroom. "Stop! Blaine! Stop!"

Blaine, who'd not seen Kurt open the door, leapt back in terror. His feet became tangled in the bathmat next to the toilet and he clumsily tripped backwards…

…directly into the bathtub with a thunderous crash.

Even through the agony, Blaine managed to bring his hands up to cover his face protectively.

Kurt was frozen.

Speechless.

Boneless.

He literally had no idea what to say.

He didn't have a clue what to do.

He couldn't even move.

The razor blade.

His razor blade.

He knew exactly where it had come from.

It had been in his burgundy travel bag.

Kurt had placed the blade in there himself.

Months ago, after… after a particularly hard day at school, dealing with the bullying from Karofsky and Azimio.

He remembered the afternoon as though it was yesterday…

Kurt took the blade out of the disposable plastic razor and stood over the sink, unable to look at himself in the mirror. He stared down at the hand-shaped bruises on his pale, disgusting arm and swallowed hard. He'd dealt with the football jocks for so long. He was so tired. Too tired. He'd been hiding in the girls bathroom that morning when he'd heard them talking about some freshman girl cutting. The idea had repulsed Kurt. But he hadn't been able to clear the images from his mind ever since. The first thing he did when he got home from school was lock himself in the bathroom. Now there he stood, razor blade in hand, potentially going to find out what all the hype was about.

He couldn't hear anything over the way his heart throbbed in his ears, until Finn had come barreling through the front door with a bunch of guys, making noise about sandwiches and the Xbox. Kurt, afraid to get caught, had nervously dropped the blade into his travel bag, zipped it up, and shoved it as far back into the vanity cupboard as he could. He'd gone to bed early that night and vowed to never touch it again.

But Blaine had found it.

And judging by the vast amount of blood on the edge of the sink and on the tiled floor, he'd chosen to use it.

He pushed the door until it was fully open, but slowly, and gently, trying not to frighten Blaine any further.

His beautiful Blaine.

The tiny bird in his hands that he was afraid to crush.

"Sweetheart..." he could barely get the word out. Kurt's voice cracked as he takes in the sight of the cowering boy, lying halfway inside the bathtub.

Blaine wasn't looking up at him.

Kurt didn't care about being slow, subtle, or even gentle anymore. He rushed towards the tub and pulled Blaine's blood soaked form up until he was cradling him in his chest.

"Oh g-god… Blaine."

Kurt finally broke, and pressed his face into Blaine's shoulder, covering it with tears.

He knew he was squeezing the boy too tight, but he didn't care.

Blaine's body was rigid; his muscles tense as Kurt held him tighter and tighter.

Finally, Kurt pulled away from the boy and looked into his hazel eyes with a desperate, pleading gaze.

"P-please don't do it…" He begged. "P-please…"

Blaine's forehead creases in confusion.

Then he looked down.

There's blood.

A lot of blood.

Down the inside of both of his wrists and on the front of his shirt.

The new shirt that Kurt bought for him.

It sickens him that he's apparently ruined that too.

Blaine's expression changed from a look of utter confusion to the saddest, most pain-filled thing Kurt had ever seen in less than a millisecond.

Then Blaine looked down at the razor in his hand and at the crimson blood still dripping from his wrists, and gasped.

His head shot up until he was looking at Kurt with tears flooding his honey-hazel eyes.

"K-Kurt?" He squeaked, his voice several octaves higher than he could have ever have reached for if he tried. "I-I'm sorry."

Kurt nodded, the waves of emotion still rolling out of his body with each tear he shed.

"I know, B-Blaine." He cried. "I know."

He lifted his hand up slowly and pointed towards the silver blade, still held firmly in Blaine's trembling fingers.

"C-can I have that now?"

Blaine looked at the menacing object in his fingers as though he'd almost forgotten that it was there.

He nodded, and extended his hand towards Kurt, who quickly took the blade from Blaine's vibrating fingers and tossed it safely on the back of the sink.

This time, he seriously didn't want to ever see it again.

Kurt didn't want to let go of Blaine's hand, but he knew that he needed to step back and assess the damage.

"Let's get you cleaned up." He paused, contemplating his options. "D-Do you want to have a bath?"

Blaine shook his head.

He was still staring at the marks on his arms hypnotically, as though he couldn't remember how they even got there.

"Okay…ummm… we'll just use a cloth, okay?"

Blaine nodded sadly without looking up.

Kurt took in a deep breath and got started on his task.

He was thankful that most of the wounds that marred both of Blaine's forearms were superficial.

Nothing they'd need to get Carole to handle.

Kurt started with the fingers on Blaine's right hand, gently clutching them one by one in the warm, damp cloth, dissolving the blood as it disappeared into the fabric. First his pointer finger, then his middle… wiping them clean and scrubbing each nail with the most tender of touches.

"Can I have your other hand for a second? Can you reach over here, or will it make your shoulder hurt?"

Kurt wants every trace of the blood to be gone. He doesn't want to think about this much beauty and safety and honesty blemished by those stains.

Blaine took a deep breath, looking deep into Kurt's eyes, and saw that they were filled with honesty and trust.

He swallowed his fear and reached his left arm, the one with the most red lines on it, across and into Kurt's awaiting fingers.

Kurt knew instantly that it was more than just Blaine's arm he'd received in his hands.

He'd seen the hesitation in Blaine's eyes just before his arm moved across his body.

Kurt knew something important was happening right then, for Blaine just as much as for himself.

"I'll take care of you, Blaine." He whispered, working diligently to wipe away the crimson stains. "I'll be here to put you back together. This is what we'll do. You can give me your hand and I can show you…"

Kurt lifted up Blaine's left hand, now completely free from any sign of blood.

"…how beautiful you are."

Blaine sucked in a surprised breath as Kurt gently kissed the back of Blaine's knuckles.

Kurt smiled.

He could feel the tension melt off the boy's shoulders almost immediately, as he carried on with his duties.

Once he was finished with Blaine's hands, Kurt moved upwards towards his wrists and forearms.

He was able to gently wipe away the now dried blood with the warm cloth, using short, delicate touches until all that was left were the angry, red lines.

Kurt then dug through the drawers of the vanity until he found some antiseptic ointment and opened the cap with a soft 'pop'.

"This might sting a little bit, okay?"

Blaine gulped, but nodded as he sat on the cool porcelain of the edge of the tub.

Kurt applied a thick layer of the cooling ointment and was not surprised when Blaine emitted nothing more than a quiet hiss.

He wrapped the wounds on both of Blaine's wrists with a roll of gauze and secured them with several pieces of white medical tape.

Then he pressed a gentle kiss onto the inside of each wrist.

When he was finished, he helped Blaine back into his sling, sat him down on the closed seat of the toilet wrapped up in his wolf blanket with Thumpy tucked under his arm, and wiped away the blood that had spilled onto the counter and floor.

Then, he reached behind the faucet and picked up the blade. There were still streaks of blood on it.

Blaine's blood.

He wrapped the blade in toilet paper and threw it into the trash bin with a relieved sigh.

He'd have to remember to take it out as soon as he felt comfortable stepping that far away from Blaine, which, after tonight, might be never.

Blaine watched this all play out and tried several times to speak out.

He knew what Kurt was thinking, and he wanted desperately to tell him.

To correct him...

But he couldn't find the right words.

He decided to stay quiet and watch sadly as Kurt finished tidying the bathroom.

When the bathroom was finally returned to its original state, Kurt helped Blaine back into his bedroom and the pair of boys sat quietly on the edge of Blaine's bed.

Both had millions of words galloping through their minds, but neither of them could string together the right sentences in their minds.

Neither of them wanted to say the wrong thing.

Finally, unexpectedly, it was Blaine who broke the silence.

"I-I wasn't going to hurt myself."

Kurt's head shot up.

Tears began to fall from Blaine's eyes as he tried desperately to maintain eye contact with his best friend.

"I-I didn't want to… do that."

Kurt was immediately relieved at Blaine's admission, but also acutely confused.

He couldn't help but allow his eyes to fall to the white bandages adorning Blaine's wrists.

Blaine's eyes followed his gaze.

Oh.

He'd forgotten about that.

How was he going to explain…?

He turned his tender wrists over and saw the slightest remnants of dried blood crusted underneath his fingernails.

"I-I scratched them." He stuttered, his voice barely above a whisper. "I think."

He's not sure what else he could possibly say.

How was he supposed to explain something he didn't fully understand?

He didn't know where he 'went' when he blacked out, all he knew was that it was cold and dark there.

And that Kurt wasn't there.

"I-It was an accident." He looked down at the white gauze on his wrists. "I-I didn't mean to do it."

"Sweetheart, look at me." Kurt whispered as he saw the shame begin to cloud Blaine's eyes. "Don't look at those."

Blaine gulped, but managed to raise his head until his eyes were once again locked into the shining glasz ones in front of him.

"Just because I know, doesn't mean that I'm angry with you, or disappointed." He took another deep breath before placing his hand on Blaine's knee and continuing. "I want you to know that I… that I care about you and I just want to help you stop the pain."

A lone tear slipped down Kurt's cheek as he stared deep into Blaine's eyes.

"Will you let me help you?"

Blaine nodded.

"Can you tell me…?" Kurt started, choosing his words carefully. "Can you tell me… what you wanted to do? With the razor?"

There was a hesitant pause.

"Cut it out." Blaine's voice sounded distant.

Kurt's eyes widened at Blaine's choice of words.

What did he mean?

"I don't want him here."

Kurt's eyebrows furrowed as he looked around at the empty bedroom.

"Who, Blaine?" He asked. "Who don't you want here?"

Blaine remained silent.

Kurt didn't know what to do, so he too stayed mute.

Finally, minutes later, Blaine looked up at Kurt once again and sighed.

"I don't… I don't want to be him anymore." Blaine gestured towards the mirror on the dresser behind Kurt.

Now Kurt was completely thrown.

He pressed his hands around Blaine's and gave his fingers a gentle squeeze.

"I'm sorry sweetheart, but I don't understand what you mean."

Blaine sighed, almost frustrated with his inability to explain himself.

"I don't want to be scared anymore."

Kurt nodded. "Okay…"

"I don't want to hide… anymore."

If he's being honest, Kurt really has no idea what Blaine is saying, but it sounds like progress.

"It's going to be okay Blaine. You don't have to hide anymore, and you can be who ever you choose to be. You're safe now. You get to decide what happens from now on, okay?"

Blaine took a few extra seconds for Kurt's words to sink in before he nodded silently.

There was a long silence before Blaine spoke again.

"I… I need to cut…"

Blaine stopped himself.

Those were not the right words…

He swallowed and tried to start over, not noticing the flash of fear that had crossed Kurt's face at his chosen words.

"He… He… liked to pull my hair."

Blaine's heart sunk in his chest as the memories flooded him. It suddenly felt like he was drowning as he recalled that horrible, horrible night.

"I-I don't want to feel that anymore."

Kurt's heart shattered as the pieces of the puzzle finally slipped into place.

It all made sense.

Blaine hadn't been cutting his wrists with the razor. The marks were from his fingernails…

He pulled the boy into a hug without even thinking.

It was an emotional embrace filled with relief, consolation, and understanding.

And it lasted forever.

Finally, when Kurt eventually pulled away, he brought his thumb up and wiped away a single tear from below Blaine's right eye.

"Blaine…?" He asked hesitantly. "Would you like me to cut your hair?

Blaine couldn't believe what Kurt was offering.

It was as though he knew exactly what he needed, even though he wasn't able to formulate the appropriate words to ask it himself.

"Carole has a kit with the right… scissors… in it." Kurt explained. "She used to cut Finn's hair at home until the guys found out and started teasing him about it at school." Kurt smiled, remembering the story that his future stepmother had told once over dinner.

It seemed like forever ago.

"We wouldn't have to use the bowl, either. I'd just trim as much as would make you feel better."

Blaine gulped.

That was exactly what he wanted.

He thought about the razor blade that he'd found in the bathroom vanity.

He remembered how much he'd wanted to take it and just get rid of all his stupid curls.

All he knew at that moment was that he wanted his hair gone.

All of it.

And here was Kurt… like always… offering him that opportunity.

So he nodded.

Blaine took a deep breath as he stared at his toes, before he finally lifted his head and looked deep into Kurt's hopeful eyes.

"Kurt…W-will you please cut my hair?"

Kurt heart soared and his face split into the widest of all grins.

Even with all the horrible, awful and terrible things that had happened in the past 24 hours…

They'd come out on top.

Blaine trusted him again.

~ Thanks for reading and reviewing. Your words inspire mine. ~