It had been a week since Kurt had fallen back into a coma. Blaine had remained at Kurt’s side, every day. He barely slept and he barely ate. If Blaine wasn’t at his boyfriend’s side, he was looking for information that he couldn’t get. Blaine knew the shooters names, but names meant nothing to him.
He wanted to know why Kurt was at the top of their list and he wanted to know who else had been shot. Blaine was calling the police every day, asking questions and getting no where.
Finn and Blaine were sitting on the Hummel’s couch late one night, watching the news. Something that Blaine had been doing a lot lately, just waiting for more information. He sat on the edge of the couch, arms and legs crossed, staring at the television screen.
The names of the shooters along with photos spread across the TV. Suddenly, Finn jumped up from the couch, pointing at the screen with his jaw open.
Blaine scanned back and forth between Finn and the television, “What? What is it?” he asked, looking for something he hadn’t seen yet.
“Those..those are Kurofsky’s.. Those are,” Finn couldn’t form words, his fists clenched, turning red.
“Kurofsky’s what?” Blaine said, leaning forward, staring at Finn with wide, questioning eyes.
“Football friends,” Finn said, stone cold.
A rush of heat overtook Blaine, as he stood, staring at the faces and names that had been burned in his mind.
Finn walked over to the table by the front door and grabbed at his keys.
“Wait, what are you doing?” Blaine asked turning toward Finn.
“I’m gonna go kill Kurofsky, you’re welcome to join me,” Finn sounded so nonchalant it almost sent a chill down Blaine’s spine. It was obvious to both of them that Finn was planning to do something big.
“No, Finn,” Blaine walked closer to Finn, “As much as I want to..to..kill that Kurofsky, I mean really kill,” Blaine looked into the distance as he pursed his lips and narrowed his eyes, “As much as I want to show him what he did...We can’t suppress violence with more violence.”
Finn stared at Blaine, still gripping his keys. It took him a second to fully let the idea sink in before he threw his keys back into the key bowl and stood staring at them.
“Fine, but I’m calling the police,” he said walking to the phone.
Blaine let out a breathe before he followed Finn.
The phone call didn’t last long. Finn didn’t necessarily know very much, even though it was a lot of new information to the both of them. There wasn’t really proof that Kurofsky was behind the entire thing and just being a friend to the murderers wasn’t much of a crime, but the man on the phone promised Finn that Kurofsky would be questioned tomorrow.
After Finn pressed the end button he stared at the phone for a minute before throwing it across the kitchen, hitting the wall and breaking it in half. “Kurofsky is behind all of this!” he yelled at no one, “What kind of a sick person?” Blaine only stared at the broken phone.
Both the boys could hear Burt and Carole walking in, having been woken.
“Blaine, don’t tell them,” Finn whispered quickly and going to grab the phone.
“What’s going on? What happened?” Burt asked as Carole stood behind him. They both looked worried and exhausted.
“Uh, nothing, I just..got in a fight with Rachel. Sorry about the phone,” Finn lied, holding the damaged phone in his hands.
“Well what happened?” Carole asked, looking worried.
Finn bit his lip, “She’s just really worried about Kurt I guess, so she’s not thinking right now.”
“Well, maybe you should go talk to her,” Carole offered, rubbing her eyes.
“No, don’t worry about it, mom,” He said, “It’ll be okay. Sorry to wake you guys.”
“Really, it’s fine,” Blaine offered, “Everyone’s just high strung right now.”
Burt and Carole nodded and explained that they were going back to bed.
Blaine shot around to Finn, “Wh-”
“Because, if Burt knows, he really will murder Kurofsky and probably every football player at McKinley,” Finn said, watching the hallway that the Hummels had disappeared down.

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The next afternoon, Blaine was sitting in Kurt’s room, holding his hand and watching his eyes flutter every few minutes. A figure emerged in the doorway and when Blaine looked up, it was as if someone had overtaken him. he let go of Kurt’s hand and pushed the chair he had been sitting in back.
Before he knew it, Blaine was in the doorway, punching at Kurofsky’s face. Once. Twice. Three times. Yelling.
Until Burt was in the middle of them, pushing Blaine back. Until Finn was on top of Kurofsky, punching his face into the linoleum and Burt had to pull Finn off of him and hold him back. Finn was yelling at him, behind Burt’s grip.
‘What is going on here?” Burt asked, still holding Finn back, though he was no longer fighting. Mr. Hummel eyed Blaine who was standing against the doorframe, looking at Kurofsky with an odd look.
But Kurofsky just laid there, crying. Actually crying.
Blaine suddenly realized that there was a bouquet of flowers next to the football player, now wilted and ruined, still in contact with his hand.