Blaine sped rocket fast straight to Kurt's house. He’d considered driving Kurt to the police station, but Kurt looked like he was in shock. Blaine wanted to give Kurt a chance to recover from whatever had happened before he had to answer any questions, maybe talk things over with his dad first. He opted against taking Kurt to the hospital considering Kurt’s current detest of the Lima health care system. Ending up at the hospital might make things worse.

Blaine did his best not to think, not to imagine what horrible thing Kurt had encountered while he waited for Blaine to show up. Blaine had lingered too long putting the finishing touches on what, he had hoped, would be the most memorable evening of Kurt's life. He wanted it to be special. But the shock of finding Kurt stumbling, running, broken...

Oh God. Blaine prayed nothing on Kurt was broken.

Blaine thought Kurt had knocked out cold. He actually saw the moment the light in Kurt's eyes had flickered out and he had succumbed to unconsciousness. But when Blaine pulled into the driveway of Kurt’s house, Kurt sat up straight, frantic.

"No!" Kurt cried. "No! I don't want to be here!"

"Kurt..." Blaine started to argue, but Kurt shook his head vigorously.

"M-my dad's home," Kurt explained, in a hushed whisper as though Burt could hear them through four walls and a car.

"That's good," Blaine assured Kurt, putting a comforting hand on his knee. "We need to tell him what happened to you."

"N-no." Kurt grabbed Blaine's hand, squeezing hard, trying to make him understand. "He made dinner for Carole. I don't want them to see me. I don't want to interrupt their..."

Kurt stopped at the word date, because that's where he was supposed to be right now. On a date...with Blaine.

"But, Kurt, the sooner we tell him, the better."

"No, please," Kurt whimpered. "I'll tell him tomorrow. I promise. Just take me somewhere else...please?" The last word barely made it passed his lips, his body crumbling in, his hands catching his face as it fell.

Blaine was at a loss as to how to help Kurt, but he pulled out of the driveway quickly and headed out in a different direction - to his own house.

The drive to Blaine's house lasted only a few minutes, mostly because Blaine broke every conceivable speed limit, but the silence that developed inside the car seemed like it would never end. Blaine couldn't imagine the thoughts haunting Kurt while they drove, his face hidden, his body trembling. He hoped Kurt would tell him what happened on the drive, but Kurt didn’t say a word, only hiccupped behind his hands. Blaine wanted to help Kurt. He hated feeling helpless.

Blaine pulled into his driveway and cut the engine, then he hurried out of the car to get Kurt's door. Kurt didn't move to leave the car, his gaze fixed on the windshield, his eyes distant. Blaine lifted Kurt from the seat and helped him stand. With Kurt in his arms, he bumped the door closed with his hip. Blaine saw Kurt dart his eyes around, but Kurt didn't say anything until they got inside.

"Will your mom..."

"My mom isn't here," Blaine reassured Kurt in a soothing, albeit tight, voice. "And even if she was, she wouldn't care."

Blaine helped Kurt up to his room and settled him down on the end of his bed. He shut the door and started switching on his desk lamp, a standing lamp, shooing away the dark with the help of a few compact fluorescents.

"No," Kurt moaned. "Don't. I don't want you to see me."

Blaine abandoned the lights and sat beside Kurt.

"I need to see how bad your injuries are," Blaine said, taking Kurt's hand. Kurt’s knuckles, the ones Blaine always painted with kisses, looked red and swollen, with a crack in the skin between his middle and ring finger that made Blaine wince. "I need to see if anything...serious happened,” he tried to explain without going in to specifics. “Or, do you want me to take you to the hospital?"

Kurt shook his head, his shoulders slumping as he stared at his hand in Blaine's.

"Turn on the lights," Kurt mumbled sadly.

Blaine set Kurt's hand back in his lap. He stood from the bed and walked to the light switch on the wall. He counted to three in his head, and then flipped on the overhead lamp. Soft light flooded the room, and Blaine heard Kurt gasp. Blaine tried to compose himself, wear an infallible expression of calm, but what he saw when he turned around crushed him.

Kurt stared horrified at his own hands, palms scraped, knuckles ragged and torn. Leaf litter and dirt stuck to Kurt's hair, his skin, and his clothes. The sleeve of his coat hung off his shoulder from a tear in the seam. The marks on his neck seemed to have blossomed since Blaine first saw them. As Blaine approached Kurt, he knew for sure those marks were from fingers - massive fingers that had wrapped themselves around Kurt's neck and squeezed the breath out of him.

Blaine kneeled at Kurt's feet, looking up into his face from between his legs. Kurt tried to pull his chapped and split lips into a thin line as he bit back tears, but he only managed a strained grimace.

"Kurt?" Blaine touched his arms without holding, rubbing carefully up and down. "Please. Tell me what happened."

Kurt sniffled, turning his hands over in front of his eyes, looking at the marks and the bruises. He flexed his fingers, hissing at the sore joints.

"It was Dave." Kurt closed his eyes, squeezing them against the memory. "Dave Karofsky. He came to the shop while I was waiting for you. He was looking for me."

Blaine swallowed hard to keep from cursing. He remembered how Dave behaved around Kurt, how he watched Kurt with menace in his eyes, a permanent scowl on his face. Blaine had always kept an eye on Kurt when he had to repair Monster’s Dodge Charger. Blaine had always suspected that Karofsky might try to target Kurt in some way because Kurt was openly gay, but he could have never imagined this.

"That fucking homophobe went to the shop to beat you up?" Blaine's anger overwhelmed him, wiping away his calm facade.

Kurt flinched at the fury in Blaine's voice. He hunched over and dissolved into tears.

"I am so sorry, Kurt." Blaine tried to push gently on Kurt's shoulders, tried to get Kurt to look at him. "I didn't mean..."

"He kissed me," Kurt interrupted through his tears.

His answer brought Blaine up short.

"He what?" Blaine couldn't seem to comprehend what Kurt had just said. He shook his head. "But Dave...I don't understand."

"He asked me...why I liked you and not him. He said he was going to make me like him. Then he kissed me."

Kurt curled in on himself. He slid off the bed into Blaine's arms, and Blaine rocked Kurt back and forth. He didn't know what to say. Dave harassing Kurt out of hate made more sense than this. Blaine would have never imagined in a thousand years that Monster was gay.

Blaine wanted to lash out, wanted to hit something, or more specifically someone, but he couldn't. Trapped beneath Kurt's shivering, crying form, he realized that his only responsibility right now was this broken boy...the one he wanted so desperately to have as his boyfriend.

"Kurt," Blaine whispered into his hair. "What do you want to do?"

"I want a shower," Kurt's muffled voice replied.

Blaine sighed. He hoped Kurt would have said, “I want to go to the police,” or “I want to talk to my dad,” but Blaine could understand his want of a shower.

"Alright,” Blaine agreed. “But we have to do something first."

Kurt looked at Blaine, his eyes so different from their usual calming ice blue that they could have been someone else's eyes entirely.

"What?"

"You have to trust me." Blaine tucked a stray hair behind Kurt's ear. "Can you do that? Can you trust me?"

Kurt nodded weakly.

Blaine moved Kurt to the brightest lit corner of his room. He took his cell phone out of his pocket, and using his cell phone camera, photographed Kurt's injuries - his swollen fists, the marks on his neck, his bruised lips. Kurt cried softly, humiliation weighing down on him as Blaine circled around, documenting every tear in his clothes, every black and blue.

Kurt couldn't bear being treated like a victim on a bad cop drama. This was supposed to be the honeymoon period of him and Blaine knowing one another and falling for each other, their chance to show off their best sides before the crazy life stuff came out. But all Blaine had been witness to was Kurt’s inescapable drama.

It didn’t seem fair.

"After I got into that fight at the dance,” Blaine explained to fill the silence, “the cops had someone take pictures of my injuries.” Blaine transferred the photos to a micro SD card and put his phone on his desk. When Blaine returned, Kurt was gazing up at him through long lashes.

"What happened?" Kurt asked. "What happened at that dance?"

Blaine blew out a long breath. He knew Kurt would ask him eventually, and he had no problem telling him, but it meant revisiting something that he’d tried for so long to forget. When Kurt saw his scar, Blaine knew he’d been on the cusp of asking. When Blaine found out Kurt had spent the afternoon with Jeff, Blaine had kind of hoped Jeff would solve that problem for him. But apparently, no luck. Blaine looked at Kurt, eyes shimmering in the low light.

"I thought maybe Jeff had told you," Blaine said, sitting back on the bed. He patted the space beside him and Kurt sat next to him, leaning to rest his head on Blaine's shoulder.

"He thought you should tell me yourself," Kurt remarked, eyes focused on a spot on the floor.

"Jeff's a good guy," Blaine commented. "Are you sure you want to hear this now?"

"Please tell me," Kurt begged.

Blaine searched his memory, trying to find a good place in the whole mess to begin.

"Why don't you tell me what you already know," Blaine said.

"Jeff told me you came out to your parents, and that they didn't take it well. That's why you went to public school and not to Dalton with your friends.

Blaine smiled bitterly.

"Didn't take it well is definitely an understatement." Blaine shifted to put an arm around Kurt, and Kurt leaned over further, putting his head in Blaine's lap. "My dad managed to find the crappiest public school in the district and sent me there. I guess he decided it was a fitting punishment. He couldn't get through to me, so maybe the other kids would. But, I didn't want to stop being me. I didn't want to lie to myself. If I stayed in the closet or denied who I was, then that's what I’d be doing, and I couldn't look at myself in the mirror every day if I did that."

Blaine ran his fingers lightly over Kurt's hair and his cheek, pulling out his handkerchief to wipe away Kurt's tears, and a few smudges of dirt so that he could see his gorgeous boy.

"Anyway, there was a Sadie Hawkins dance at school and I took a chance, to show everyone that no matter what, I was always going to be me. I asked the only other gay boy in school, and we went as friends. We hoped that by standing up for ourselves we might make a difference."

He stopped when he noticed a fresh well of tears spill down Kurt's cheeks. Kurt knew what was coming next. He’d seen the scar, and it looked bad. He just didn't know how bad bad was.

"They jumped us while we were waiting for our ride." Blaine tried to stem the onslaught of Kurt's tears, but eventually he had to give up and let them fall. "A group of jocks actually waited outside for nearly the entire dance just to get us when we got out. There were three of them and two of us. They beat the living shit out of us, knocked me flat on the pavement. One guy had a broken beer bottle or something. That's how I got the scar."

Kurt nodded, a tiny movement of his head asking Blaine to continue.

"When I woke up, I was in the hospital, hooked up to machines, police officers everywhere, and my parents...I remember thinking that they looked incredibly pissed, and I was glad. I was glad they were pissed, because that meant that they loved me, and they would fight for me. It meant that they saw this for what it was – a hate crime, perpetrated against their son. As it turned out, they were only pissed at me."

Blaine had to look away from Kurt to gather his thoughts. He hadn't talked about this in a while, and with the exception of a few odd nightmares, he was sure he had moved passed it. Now, here it was, the old feelings of grief, shame, and worthlessness, but not because someone threatened him.

Because he couldn't protect the boy he loved.

That's when Blaine realized that this feeling, this need, this want to have Kurt with him always – that’s what this was.

It was love.

"Then what?" Kurt prompted.

Blaine turned back to Kurt.

"The police told my parents what to do if they wanted to press charges, but they said no. My dad said it was my fault. I provoked the bullies. By going to the dance with another boy, I was asking for trouble."

Kurt couldn't take anymore. He couldn't listen to this, this hate against this beautiful, amazing, generous, incredible boy that Kurt had fallen so hard in love with. Because this feeling of pain in his chest, the one that replaced any pain he had for his own predicament, the one that told him that, come what may, he would do anything in the world for Blaine, to keep him happy and safe and feeling wanted every day for the rest of his life...it was all love.

He had turned his face further into Blaine's lap, turned away so Blaine wouldn't have to see him cry anymore.

"No more," he whispered against Blaine's legs. "Please, no more."

"I'm so sorry, Kurt." Blaine couldn’t wrap his arms around Kurt at this angle, and he wanted to hold Kurt - wanted to find some other way to comfort him than this. But all he could do was sit quietly and let Kurt cry.

Kurt didn't know how long he cried, didn't know when he stopped, or when Blaine had managed to coax him into the shower. Kurt didn’t know if he’d undressed himself, or if Blaine had done it for him. But he blinked his eyes and he was alone, standing under the spray, turning up the heat to let the water scald his skin. He scrubbed at his skin with a bar of soap, not even able to enjoy covering himself in that intoxicating scent that Blaine wore every day. Kurt scrubbed and scrubbed until the bar broke in half and slipped from his fingers. Then he scratched at his skin, the hot water stinging at the marks until he simply went numb. When he could no longer feel his own fingers on his skin, he smacked his hands up against the tile wall, once, twice, and then over and over until he was beating out an uneven rhythm with his fists, which did nothing to cover up the sobs that would not stop, no matter what he did.

Blaine slid down the bathroom door and sank his head in his hands when he heard his precious boy crying, hating himself for being so fucking useless. Blaine had to do something, so while Kurt showered, Blaine gathered together clothes and a towel, and left them on the sink for Kurt. It was lame and pathetic, but it was all Blaine had the power to do.

Kurt stayed in the shower until the water ran cold...and then stayed in a little longer. Blaine changed into his nighttime clothes, his romantic plans for the evening long since forgotten. Unable to sit still or feel at peace with Kurt in pain, Blaine paced the floor, waiting for Kurt to come out.

The shower water stopped running, and Blaine stopped pacing, staring at the closed door, waiting for Kurt. The door finally clicked open, and there Kurt stood in Blaine's t-shirt and sweats. Even after listening to Kurt’s sobs, the way they’d dug into Blaine’s body and coiled around his heart, squeezing until he thought the stupid thing would burst, Blaine couldn't help smiling. And seeing Blaine smile made Kurt’s sheepish grin appear.

"What?" Kurt said.

"I kind of like this," Blaine said, taking Kurt’s hand, trembling from too much time spent in the cold water, and pulled him over to the bed. He threw back the covers and climbed in, drawing Kurt down beside him.

"Kind of like what?" Kurt asked.

"My boyfriend wearing my clothes." Blaine wrapped his arms around Kurt's body, bringing the blanket over them.

"You...you still want to be my boyfriend?" Kurt asked.

"Well, I did have a more romantic way of asking you planned" - Blaine kissed Kurt's head, burying his nose in his damp hair, taking advantage of the lack of product to enjoy the strands tickling his cheek - "but right now, I can't think of anything else I want more." Blaine kissed Kurt's temple, running a hand up and down his back beneath his shirt, fingers dancing in circles over his smooth skin. "Is that what you want?"

“Yes,” Kurt said. "Among other things."

Kurt turned in Blaine’s arms. He climbed up Blaine's body, placing slow kisses, some dry and chaste, some open mouthed, along the column of Blaine's neck. Blaine felt his whole body stirring. The stress of the evening, the shock of finding Kurt injured, the pain of reliving the worst night of his life, melted away under the attentions of his boyfriend's mouth.

"What do you want?" Blaine whispered, sliding his fingertips over Kurt's skin, down his cheek, ghosting over the bruises on his neck. Kurt reached Blaine's face, eyes closed, and lightly rubbed their noses together. Blaine traced the outline of Kurt's lips with his index finger.

"Kiss me?" Kurt asked, opening eyes glistening with unshed tears. They locked on to Blaine's, innocent, but with such fire that Blaine's breath hitched in his throat

A needy whine escaped the back of Blaine’s throat. "Ask me again?"

"Kiss me, Blaine?" Kurt asked, curling a hand into Blaine's shirt, tugging Blaine to meet his lips. "Make me forget everything but the moment you asked me to be your boyfriend. And then, just for tonight, we can go from there. There doesn't have to be a Dave and there doesn't have to be a dance. Just you and me."

Blaine moaned softly as he closed the distance, claiming Kurt's lips with his own, moving against his mouth as if he had done this with Kurt a thousand times. They fit perfectly together, like they were made to be with each other and only each other this way.

Tears rolled down Kurt’s cheeks. Blaine felt them clinging to his boyfriend’s skin and broke away.

"Don't cry, love," Blaine whispered. "Please, don't cry."

Blaine kissed Kurt's tears away, each and every one as they fell new from his eyes. He kissed Kurt until Kurt became breathless, caught in the dizzying euphoria of being kissed. He kissed down Kurt's cheeks, over every scratch and every bruise, murmuring apologies against Kurt's wounds - apologizing for being late, apologizing for not protecting Kurt, apologizing for Kurt's pain, apologizing for someone so evil existing in the world that they would hunt Kurt down and try to hurt him. He kissed the finger shaped marks on Kurt's neck, which showed up vividly dark because of the heat of the shower. Blaine pulled off Kurt's shirt, sliding the fabric over Kurt's shoulders and down his arms. Blaine’s eyes skimmed over Kurt's exposed chest, his skin littered with stunted red marks, fresh scratches, and new purple bruises.

"Oh, Kurt," Blaine moaned, realizing what Kurt had done in his attempt to scrub every inch of Monster away.

Kurt tried to cover them, but Blaine wouldn’t let him, catching his wrist and starting a trail of kisses there. Blaine's kisses traveled up Kurt's left arm from his knuckles to his shoulder, across his collar bone, stopping for a moment to lick slowly at the hollow of his neck, and then across to the right shoulder. Blaine felt Kurt begin to relax beneath his lips, his skin prickling slightly with goosebumps. When Blaine pressed his lips firmly to the bend of Kurt's arm and started to suck, Kurt moaned out loud.

Blaine kissed Kurt until Kurt drifted off to sleep, then he stayed up a little longer, carding his fingers through Kurt's hair until sleep took him, too.

Across town, in the Hummel house, Burt Hummel woke up for the seventh time to use the bathroom, cursing his new medication, to discover that his teenage son had not come home.