(6:06)Help me
(6:07)Kurt I'm gonna do it
(6:09)oh god i fucking cant they're gonna kill me Kurt please
(6:12)Kurt I'm jfc I can't even say it
(6:17)I'm gonna tell my parents that
(6:20)fuck I can't even say it over text
(6:22)sorry for all of the texts I just don't know who to go to
(6:24)I don't have anyone else
(6:26)Kurt please I'm scared I'm so scared

Kurt stared at the new message on his screen. He'd been sitting on his bed for the past twenty minutes with his phone in his hand, trying to figure out what Blaine was saying. He was starting to scare Kurt. This was the first time he'd texted him in a week, and it was so different than the others, considering that they were usually propositions or about how much of an ass Kurt was for not answering.

The latest message stirred something within Kurt.Kurt please I'm scared I'm so scared...Kurt please I'm scared I'm so scared...that did not sound like the passive, perpetually angry boy Kurt knew. There was that one time he displayed his intimate side, yes, but this...this was completely new layer of Blaine. A vulnerable side-and it scared Kurt too.

Before he knew it, he quickly typed a message back. This was the first time he'd responded to Blaine's texts.

(6:29)deep breaths. Are you close to that little park on forest street?

(6:31)it's within walking distance

(6:33)good, don't drive. I'll be there in 10. Just sit on a swing or something, okay?

(6:35)thank you.

It took him a while to see the last message because he was putting on a pair of shorts, a running shirt, and a light rain coat, considering that he could hear the hushed tapping of rain against his house. He read it as he ran upstairs, feeling his heart skip a beat: Blaine would never say thank you in a million years. This couldn't be a joke-there was something really, really wrong.

"I'm going out for a little, Dad," Kurt called out as he put on his running shoes. No answer-I guess he's still in the shop. Kurt ran into the kitchen and grabbed a pen and a sticky note, telling Burt that he was "going for a run." It wasn't really a lie-he was going to run. The park was not quite a mile from his house.

It was drizzling lightly when Kurt stepped outside: the gray, misty fog made it hard to keep his eyes open as he began to jog, something he rarely did. While Kurt hated running, it was the last thing on his mind. His legs mechanically guided him down the street, thumping against the slick pavement. All he could think about was Blaine.Why did he start texting me again? What is wrong with him? What was he going to tell his parents?

Kurt please I'm scared I'm so scared.

Kurt's breathing started to become erratic due to the fact that running wasn't exactly his forte, and that he'd started to increase his pace despite that fact. He was actually nearing a sprint. His thoughts propelled him forward, giving him an incentive to reach Blaine. Forest Street was just around the corner: he turned onto it and cursed, realizing that he had a huge hill in front of him. It was incredibly steep, probably at a fifty degree angle with the park perched at the top. His mind was buzzing and his legs felt light—this must be a runner's high. While it felt good, he slowed his pace a bit, preparing himself for the dreaded track in front of him.Just sprint it, you're almost there.

But he wasn't—he still had Blaine to talk to, and that was basically Mount Everest.

Breathing heavily, Kurt ran up the hill, full raindrops now beating against his back. His lungs, legs, and arms were on fire in the cold of the coming night. Soon enough, the park was in sight: the ground began to level, notifying Kurt that he could slow down. His heart rate and breathing rate were through the roof; he could feel his blood pounding in his head as his lungs pummeled his rib cage. He looked up and squinted, searching through the small park that was still fifty meters away. There was a figure sitting on a swing, as Kurt had suggested, but he was all hunched over and not wearing a Cheerios uniform, but rather a black coat and dark jeans. As he got even closer, he noticed that his hair was an un-gelled, soaked mop. It was such a strange, unfamiliar sight.

Kurt stepped onto the damp mulch, walking past the jungle gym and slides to get to the empty seat next to Blaine. He didn't seem to realize that Kurt was there: his face was in his hands, his body racking with silent sobs. His mute suffering was deafening. Kurt sat there, just watching for a couple of minutes: it was obvious that this truly was not some kind of ploy for Kurt to rush to Blaine's aid so he could use him. A faint tenderness began to overcome him as he caught his breath, seeing Blaine in such a depressing way. He was surprised to find that he felt badly for the boy, to see him in his state, when all he'd done was cause Kurt such pain. Regardless, nothing that Blaine had done could reduce him to tears, besides seeing this.

"Blaine?" He said softly, gently, afraid that Blaine didn't even hear him. Surprisingly, Blaine snapped his head up at the near-whisper.

"You came," his voice was scratchy and lost and so incrediblybroken. There was no hint of a sneer, a scowl, nothing of Blaine's usual tone.

"Of course I did," Kurt replied, confused at Blaine's statement. He texted that he'd come, so he followed through. "Can you tell me what's wrong?" Kurt swung his feet a little bit, staring at the ground. He couldn't bring himself to look at Blaine-his face was tinged red, obviously tear-stained even in the rain, and his eyes, thosefucking eyes.

"It's been..." His voice wavered; he wiped his nose and mouth with his sleeve. "When did you c-come out, Kurt?"

Kurt was taken aback by the random question. "When did I tell everyone that I was gay? This summer. Why?"

"How did it-how'd it go?" Blaine asked, his eyes searching Kurt's face.

"Well, my dad didn't throw me out of the house," Kurt said flatly, and Blaine laughed-it was more of a series of sporadic coughs. "In all seriousness, it went okay. My dad kind of already knew, and he wasn't too crazy about it, but he accepts me for who I am."

"Oh." They sat in silence for a few minutes while Kurt tried to figure out what the point of this was. "I'm not sure if my parents will be like that." He sighed and dropped his head again.

"Wait,what?" Kurt asked incredulously. He was sure that Blaine was out. Coach called him her "right-hand gay", Santana "Gay Boy Wonder", and so many more. He'd clearly made it known to Kurt that he was gay.

"Let me explain. I just...I'm gonna try to get it all out in one-in one shot, 'cause that'll probably be easiest, so...so wait 'till I'm done, 'kay?" Kurt nodded, nervousness clenching at his stomach. Blaine's uneven tone hinted that the reason he hadn't come out yet was a rather awful one.

"In the beginning of eighth grade, I realized what was wrong with me." He shook his head. "No, I phrased that wrong. I realized that I was different. I hate that word. Anyway, I wasn't in this school district at the time, so I was with a bunch of different kids, kids that I'd grown up with, kids that I had befriended. I was actually kind of popular, I guess. I thought that since they liked me and...everything, they wouldn't care about...Jesus, I can't talk today, I'm sorry." He tried laughing again, and before Kurt could say it was okay, he continued on, his voice beginning to shake. "It was the Sadie Hawkins dance, right before eighth grade graduation," he started slowly, wringing his fingers furiously in his lap, "and I-I had met a boy through my cousin's Sweet Sixteen. We hit it off-I was able to talk to him about my feelings, and he was really nice and understanding. He agreed to go with me...as friends, but not really...and we had it all set. I would show up there with a boy on my arm, and..." He let out a long sigh. "My friends caught wind of it a week before the dance. I think one of them hacked into my Facebook account or something just to post stupid stuff like 'I love penis' or stupid, immature shit like that. I can't imagine how shocked they were to see that it was true," He scoffed, a despondent, crooked smile was plastered on his face as he recalled the memory, as if he was mocking the irony of it. "I didn't realize how homophobic they were. I mean, they'd throw around 'that's so gay', with a negative connotation every so often, but unfortunately that's been embedded into society's vocabulary as something bad. Gay used to mean 'happy', when did it start to have such an awful use? Sorry, I'm going on a tangent. This is just...really hard for me to talk about." A pause; Kurt looked at him and met his eyes, hardly able to hold their miserable gaze. "I've never told anyone about this." He said in a small voice, and Kurt's pulse quickened. Blaine had never looked or sounded so little.

"I went over to one of their houses later that day, just to hang with my friends, you know? Once I walked in, I knew something was up. They were all giving me looks, and not really talking to me. They started talking about girls and s-sex and how they'd bang them and shit...and then they-they started to talk about gay sex, and how it's...gross, and wrong, and anyone who does it should...should..." His voice cracked, and he shuddered. "I don't know how I didn't realize. I was kind of outside of the group, staring at the ceiling while listening to them berate my sexuality. Listening to them talk about how fucking messed up it is to look at a guy and think 'wow, he's attractive, I want to stick my dick up his ass' and stereotype us and-and I thought something was wrong with me. I started thinking...about doing things to my-myself to c-correct it..." Kurt noticed that he was rubbing his wrists, and felt something wring his heart like a rag, coiling the arteries and veins into a horribly painful knot, "but above all I was mad at them. I was absolutely furious. It was within a short period of time, and so I wasn't thinking clearly, but I knew that it was wrong to talk about people like that, like they have a mental defect. Comparing retardation to sexual orientation...I just don't understand that mentality. Fuck, I'm really bad at this." He took in a deep breath while Kurt let a long one out: he didn't realize he'd been holding it.

"I decided to speak up and say something like, 'dude, gay people aren't bad' or 'why are we talking about this' and then one of them said, 'oh, why don't we ask your little Facebook friend about that' and I was pretty sure that time froze. All of the blood drained from my face-I must've looked like I'd seen a ghost-and I remember just looking at their condeke-cocendem—fuck, condescending faces just st-staring at me. Like I was a fucking criminal. Like I had n-never been their f-friend. I wanted to do nothing more than cr-crawl up in...into a ball and cry for years...I c-couldn't speak at all and ask how they found out. Nothing in my body was funt—functioning, ugh. They started saying stuff, asking me about all the times we'd had sleepovers, if I wa-wanted to crawl into their sleeping bags, if I liked hiding in their cl-closets during hide-and-seek when we were fucking s-six...those weren't my friends. I had no idea what was going on. They star-started to c-call me a f-fa...names...we'd do that sometimes, just joking around like with the gay stuff, but this time they m-meant it. One of them dragged me off of the bed, saying that I probably wanted to t-touch myself thinking that I'd been si-sitting on it, and I just k-kind of stood in the mi-middle of the room, as if I was a p-piece of art being ridiculed by c-critics who don't. Fucking.Understand." His hands were gripping his knees, his knuckles bulging. Kurt continued listening, feeling numb, knowing it could only get worse. "Then someone said, 'your parents won't love you 'cause you're queer,' and I just lost it. This kid whose room we were in was some kind of a wrestling champion-ironic, right?-and so I found the n-nearest trophy sitting r-right there on his de-desk and th-threw it against the wall. Its thud was so loud, but not as loud as the silence that followed. The damn thing lay broken on the floor at my feet, which was all I could look at. Then the kid came and punched me in the face."

Kurt gasped; he couldn't help himself. That was the most he could do, as he had so far been rendered speechless. He looked at Blaine and realized that his eyes were red. The rain wasn't the only water trailing down his face. Kurt tried to rub the burning feeling out of his eyes, realizing that he was crying too. The acrid taste of salt was all too pungent in his mouth, but it could not combat the awful, empty feeling that plagued his being. Blaine's story had so far ripped a hole in his chest and was tearing him from the inside out.

"Some of the others started joining in. I guess they were all mad about whatever and decided to take it out on their punching bag, the gay kid. God, it hurt. It hurt so badly. The worst part is, I took it. I stood there-no, I blacked out and fell at one point," Kurt could not believe what he was hearing, "and let them hit me over and over again, asking me if I liked being touched by other boys.

"I don't even remember going home, how that happened. I'd gotten a concussion and lost my memory temporarily, as my parents found out when they took me to the hospital-yes, it was that bad. At that time, I didn't even remember going to my friend's house, but now I can't remember what happened after the last time I got kicked in the nuts the third time; I lost count of all of the other places." Kurt winced, unable to imagine the pain. "It's unfortunate that I had to remember everything else. They—my parents-still don't know exactly what happened. All they know is that for whatever reason, they decided to beat me up. None of the boys would fess up. Fucking cowards. I can't really call them that, though, since I'm one too." Kurt started to protest, but Blaine cut him off with a wave of his free hand while the other continuously wiped the accumulation of tears and rain on his face. "I told them that they'd been bullying me and then finally decided to kick the crap out of me. It was the easiest explanation. They barely asked why I got bullied, as I'd suspected, so I didn't have to come out. What they did do is transfer me to another school, aka Dalton Academy, that preppy school in Westerville; I don't know if you've heard of it. It was the easiest option; they dumped me on someone else's plate to make me feel better. It was a nice gesture, but...Christ, they didn't know how to deal with it. A year later, I decided that academy life was over-it was nice and all, but I didn't really like the environment, even though it was zero-tolerance and all-boys. I have to admit, it was a bit too snooty. My parents were fine with my choice as they saw that I was fine, especially since Dalton is so expensive, but they decided to put me here at McKinley. People are a lot better here, but..."

"You still isolate yourself," Kurt finally cut in, and Blaine nodded. "So how do Coach and Santana know that you're gay?" He decided it was the appropriate time to ask the question, even though he had at least a thousand more.

"I'd done gymnastics for a few years and decided to give cheerleading a shot, since I knew the Cheerios were national champs and that would look good for college and everything. That would also show all of those douchebags that I was 'getting loads of ladies' while they weren't (I doubt they are). Coach wasn't really sold on my excuse that I had no desire to sleep with any of the girls on the team when I tried out, because she was like, 'all of these girls are banging; any horny teenage boy would be popping a tent whenever he's staring up into a my ladies' baby ovens while holding them up' and I was afraid she wouldn't take me so I told her I was gay. It just kind of came out...no pun intended. I couldn't hold it in anymore, and I thought I was going to die when the admission left my mouth. For the first time, though, someone was nice to me about it. Well, you know how Coach is. She was glad that she could have a diverse team and not have to worry about me trying to knock up her precious girls." He laughed lightly, airily, without much meaning behind it. "Of course Santana and some of the others found out, but I have my own dirt on her so I can trust her...sometimes she slips, but most people think she's just making fun of me, since that's just what she's like. Even though she hates me now, I like her. Aside from her, I don't really have any friends. Captain of the Cheerios and an antisocial, closeted homosexual-go figure."

Kurt continued to stare at him, a fragile figure lost in the downpour of the somber environment and his mind. His last words rang in the pitter-patter of the rain. Kurt didn't know what to say or do: he let the heaviness of Blaine's story sink in, pressing down on his chest and heart and lungs. He couldn't imagine having to live with that, being betrayed by your best friends in such a grotesque, atrocious way...

"And now I just...I've been such a fucking insufferable dick to you, and I...God, you're like the epitome of courage, Kurt. You came out, something I'm still too cowardly to do even though I'm, Jesus, three years older than you, and you're much more mature than me. You don't seem to care whether people perceive you as a loser; I see you at Glee, and I know you love it. I mean, I like it too, I love singing and stuff but I have a job to do with the stupid 'destroying the Glee club' business, so I can't like it.

"Finally, you dealt with me. Shit, sometimes I...I can hardly p-put up with my...myself," the wavering in Blaine's voice had returned. "I'm just such a fucking coward for being so mean to you-I don't know how to deal with this, and I feel like such an idiot, and a major asshole. I hate, no, that's not strong enough; Iloatheevery god-damn fiber within my body for doing what I did to you."

"No, you're not-"

"No, no, I need to get this all out. Today I realized just how amazing you are, Kurt, not that I wasn't conscious of it before. I'm not saying this from my personal perspective of you, well, partially, but anyway, you are just...I can't break you. I wanted to, and I'm such a horrible person for trying to do so, but I couldn't. I won't try anymore: I can't be wasting my life on a lost cause, since there was no way I'd ever end up with you, or someone as perfect as you. I texted you way too much, while I was drunk and sober, I tried to find you in the halls just to see you, I ignored you at practice to see if you missed me pestering you, just for one little look, even if it was a glare...and you eschewed me. Rightfully so, I guess. I tried so hard to snag you, yet in the wrong way. You are sostrong. This time, though, I just needed you, and...here you are. It was out of panic that I texted you-I had no one else to go to, as I said." He choked a little. "I'm just so scared to go to my parents...I feel like I shouldn't be, but I am, I know that they have anti-gay sentiments and when I think about telling them, I can see them...l-looking so disappointed, a-and what that...that kid said a-about them..." Blaine finally broke down. He buried his face in his hands; Kurt could hear him over the noisy precipitation. He could not withhold himself any longer: he shifted over and gently held him in his arms, engulfing Blaine into a light embrace. Blaine shook even harder at his response, pressing himself into Kurt's body.

It was not a romantic gesture: it was a sign of forgiveness. He let Blaine vibrate against him, both of their thick walls finally crumbling to the sodden ground. It hurt to watch and hear they boy in so much emotional distress. Kurt felt a softness towards Blaine; a peculiar, mysterious connection. He finally understood why Blaine acted like such an asshole. It was his guard; it kept people from getting too close to him. It was the only thing he knew. Blaine didn't want anyone to learn too much about him, yet there Blaine was, sinking into Kurt's embrace, weak as ever, completely naked although he was clad in some layers of clothes. Kurt, however, saw it a completely different way.

"Blaine," he lisped, and gulped, trying to find his voice. It was so hard, so exceedingly hard to even look at the pathetic figure in his arms. Blaine's sobs began to slow down as he listened to Kurt. "Blaine," he started over, gaining confidence. "You are the one who's strong for finally telling someone about that. It's awful that you kept it in for so long," he cringed, remembering that it'd soon be a month since Blaine's inappropriate touching in incident and no one but the two of them knew about it. How ironic.

Blaine coughed. "Stop it, Kurt, you are-"

"Don't say that I'm perfect, because I'm not," Kurt cut in angrily, then calmed himself. He turned Blaine to face him, looking into his impossibly sad eyes, their irises a golden, watery hue. Those eyes alone could break Kurt into a thousand pieces and scatter them across the world, never to be found again; he struggled to keep himself together as he stared at Blaine. "No one is perfect. I guess you can say how imperfect humans are is perfect, if that makes sense." Blaine smiled, bringing a little light back into his face—it was the happiest Kurt had ever seen him, and it was beautiful. "You can't keep hiding yourself away, Blaine. While I hate to see you cry and everything, I've seenyou. You need to tell this to the ones who matter most. It's not that your parents have a right to know, or anyone else for that matter: this is for you. You're restraining yourself. I know how much that hurts-it must be so much worse for you, since you have a whole other burden on your chest. I just-I much prefer to see you smiling than scowling at the ground all the time or-or like this," Kurt said, and realized that he was absentmindedly rubbing circles in Blaine's tense back. He stopped, but still held onto Blaine, his legs growing tired from holding himself so close to Blaine on the swing.

Blaine buried his face in Kurt's shoulder. "How did you feel after...after you came out?" He choked out, his bout of crying finally coming to a close.

Kurt reflected for a second. "For the most part, I was happy. I'd finally gotten a huge burden off of my chest, and it felt so good. A little part of me was scared about, you know, how people would treat me and stuff. For the most part though, it was a relief, and I don't regret it at all. It shouldn't matter what others think; how it makes you feel is what counts. You shouldn't have to hide apologize for who you are."

Blaine sniffled. "I'm going to do it anyway, Kurt, because one, I need to get this off of my chest, and two, you are entitled to it. I'm sorry. I'm so sorry. I can say it a thousand times; I will if you need me to. I'll lose my voice saying it. You deserve so much better than how I treated you. I would take back everything I did to you in a heartbeat. I'm sorry for everything I did to you, starting with the second day of school. I'm sorry for making fun of you, for—fuck, I'm such a moron-touching you inappropriately, and for this. Sorry for wasting your Friday afternoon, making you comfort me and risk catching a cold while I bitch about how much of a wuss I am. You're too good for me, Kurt." He shrugged Kurt off, straightening his back. He looked out into the distance, his face unreadable. "I'm gonna have to do it, aren't I, though. I'm gonna have to come out to the whole school eventually."

"Yeah, but you don't have to do it now," Kurt replied softly, his arms hanging at my side. They felt lifeless, as if they had no purpose if they weren't around Blaine. "Do it when you feel like you're strong enough to. I think now that you've gotten this all out, it'll be easier. You should tell your parents first, I think. And don't apologize: I forgive you. Now I know why you were such a jerk, and while it wasn't okay at all, I understand. I will help you. I think you—you need a second chance."

Blaine locked his eyes with Kurt, his eyes conveying absolute gratitude and...something else. Something beautiful. "Thank you," he whispered. "I—I think I will tell them."

"Can you explain one thing to me, though?" Kurt inquired, still holding his gaze with Blaine's hypnotic hazel eyes. "I know that you said you had no one else to go to, but—why me? You know that I hate—that I hated you, so why would you text me out of all people? Santana could work, too, and what about that boy? Are you two still in touch?"

"No," Blaine replied wistfully, finally casting his gaze down to the ground, where a small puddle was accumulating underneath his swing. The rain was slowing down a little, but it didn't make that much of a difference since Kurt was soaked to his core, his hair and clothes sticking uncomfortably to his skin. Blaine seemed to be in the same position: he ran his fingers through his drenched raven-colored locks. "He pieced everything together when I told him that I got hurt really badly and couldn't go to the dance with him—if you couldn't tell, I didn't go to the dance due to the fact that I was concussed and I was actually scared to go to school for some time. I only went to school, like, for four more days that year. Those boys got in trouble, too: they didn't fess up to anything, though. Bastards. Anyway, the boy I was supposed to go with was afraid that those boys would find him, so he cut off all times. Also a bastard. Everyone left me in the end, even my parents.

"But back to your question, since I need to stop with the sob stories. I chose you because..." he started carefully; Kurt could tell that he was calculating his every word based on his cadence, "Well, Santana wouldn't...exactly...understand what I'm going through, and...she's basically my only friend at school, and you...you're openly gay, you've already done it so...I don't know, I wasn't really expecting an answer...I didn't think that you'd care. I don't even know what I'm saying anymore, I just...felt the need to tell you."

Kurt wasn't sure what to say. As he opened his mouth to end the silence that followed, his phone buzzed in his pocket. "Ugh," he muttered under his breath as he read the text from his father on his screen, telling him to get his butt home as soon as possible for Friday night dinner, since Finn and Carole were coming again to watch whatever football game was on. "I'm sorry, Blaine, I've got to go, my dad's having Finn and Carole over again-"

"Kurt, do you like Finn?" Blaine queried quickly, snapping his head to face Kurt again, who'd gotten up from the swing. He should've known that the question would come, since nearly everyone in the Glee club had asked him the same thing. He stood in front of Blaine, who was still sitting in his seat, slightly moving from side to side.

"No," he answered truthfully. "Well, maybe a little, for a while, but he's a jerk. He's also straight, so I don't have a chance with him. It doesn't matter; Rachel has a raging crush on him so...oh crap, I wasn't supposed to tell you that," Kurt admitted, horrified that he'd revealed his friend's secret.

"Kurt, everyone in Glee club knows that Rachel is infatuated with Finn," Blaine replied, "did you see her singing that love song with her eyes locked on him the whole time last week? Anyway...I guess you don't, um, have a thing for jerks," he mumbled the last bit. Kurt knew exactly what he was getting at.

"Nope," he answered firmly, "but I have the impervious belief that jerks don't have to remain jerks forever. They have a heart; they just need to learn how to use it."

"Can someone teach them?" Blaine asked, a glimmer of hope shining in his brightening eyes.

Kurt held out his hand and sent him a smile. "Yes, but only if he's is willing to change."

Blaine took it, his calloused hand slippery in his, yet warm and certain. He got up from his seat, finally letting go of Kurt's hand when he was standing up straight. They walked together in silence through the empty park until they reached the end of the path.

"Do you mind...d'you mind walking with me to my house? It's a few houses down that way," Blaine pointed in the opposite direction that Kurt had to go. From what Kurt could tell, his house was situated just on the border of Lima and their neighboring town. He nodded, figuring that it wasn't that much out of the way, and that Blaine needed the security. They walked in sync, a comforting silence floating around them. It was not awkward in any way: it was a needed quiet after the storm, even though the rain had not quite stopped. Occasionally, Blaine would brush his hand against Kurt's thigh on "accident"; this also was not in an erotic manner, it was just for a reassuring touch to know that someone was beside him, not just physically there but supporting him. The indescribable smell of rain on the pavement wafted through the air, sending a refreshing wave of tranquility through Kurt, and evidently through Blaine, as he seemed to lose some of his rigidity as they strolled down the street.

Eventually Blaine stopped in front of a rather large house—Kurt followed suit. "This is it," Blaine said, his voice lacking emotion. "I'll see you on Monday?"

"Why don't you text me later so...so I know that you're okay. You don't have to do it right now, since we've talked about it and everything. Do it when you're ready. Do it the way you feel is right."

"Okay," Blaine said quietly.

"Okay." Kurt replied, unsure of what else to say or do. They stood across from each other for a second, and then Blaine turned away, trekking up the small hill of his driveway. Kurt watched as he looked out before disappearing into the garage, his mouth gaping open a little at the fact that Kurt was still there. He waved and then withdrew from view. Kurt sighed and walked back where he came from, eventually increasing his pace, knowing that from the buzzing in his pocket that Burt was starting to lose his patience.

Feeling physically and emotionally drained, Kurt passed the park and continued down the hill, letting his tired legs dictate his route.

"Kurt, where have you been?" Burt asked from the kitchen when he finally walked into the house fifteen minutes later. "We're waiting for you." He took off his shoes and coat, his shirt and pants sticking to his cool, wet skin.

"I told you, I went on a run." He snapped, finding his father. He wasn't sure why he was in such an irritable mood, but all he wanted was to be left alone. He peeked into the dining room, where Carole and Finn were chatting, Finn seated across from an empty seat. The last person Kurt wanted to see that day was Finn.

"A two-hour run? After practice and before a game?! How am I supposed to believe that? Okay, okay, we'll talk about it later," Burt murmured furiously as Kurt signaled that he was basically shouting while their guests were in the other room. "Get in there; I'm not done with you."

"Wow, Kurt, you're absolutely drenched! Why did you decide to go on a run in this kind of weather?" Carole asked, astounded at Kurt's state when he entered the room and took his seat. He looked down at his plate full of spaghetti his dad actually succeeded in cooking, then met her warm, concerned gaze.

"I just...I felt like it. Nothing like running in the rain, right?" He couldn't be mean to Carole. She was too good and kind. He could see Finn examining him in his peripheral vision, and turned his head to face him, sending him a look of warning. Finn immediately dipped his head—regardless of the fact that Kurt had evaded him since the rumor that he had a crush on him came into play, he still seemed to have a tenacious grip on making any interaction with Kurt uncomfortable.

"All right, everyone, dig in...half time is going to be over soon, and I don't want to miss any more of the game that I have to!" Burt announced, and everyone obliged, feasting on the slightly cold meal.

After dinner was done, the Hudsons and Burt scurried into the family room to watch the game which had just restarted. Kurt figured that cleaning up was more interesting than watching football. Shouts and curses filled the house as Kurt worked in the dishes, scrubbing the sauce from a plate furiously.

"Hey," Kurt nearly dropped it in surprise; Carole was standing in the doorway.

"Hello," he said softly, and Carole took it as an invitation to enter the room.

"Do you want me to help? Football isn't my thing either," she said, and Kurt smiled, handing her a plate. "I also want to give Finn and Burt some bonding time, since he...he's not really okay with this."

Kurt nodded. He put the plate in the drain board and started working on the next plate. They continued to clean in silence for a while, the running water and noise from the family room enough to satisfy their quiet.

"You know," Carole began gingerly, "I love your father very much. I hope you don't think that...that I'm trying to replace your mother or anything..."

"Oh no, no," Kurt said, turning off the sink since they'd finished with all of the dinner ware. "No one can replace my mom. No one could ever take her away from me. You aren't a replacement, you're just...a new chapter in my family life, a second mom. I'm very lucky to have you, Mrs. Hudson. My dad is even more so—he hasn't been this happy in a long time." It was the truth: Burt's whole persona seemed to have lightened since he'd started going on more and more dates with Carole. "You two are perfect for each other. It's a shame that Finn can't see that." Kurt regretted how he scornfully spat out Finn's name.

"Are you and Finn all right? You two don't really talk..."

"Someone told him that I liked him," Kurt admitted, "but I don't. It's been kind of uncomfortable, which is understandable, although I wish that he didn't believe them. He's nice, but not really to me."

"I'm so sorry, Kurt," Carole said sympathetically. "I can talk to him if-"

"No, no, it's okay. I'm sure he'll get over it soon enough!" Kurt exclaimed with false exuberance. Carole saw right past it.

"Kurt. I really like what I've got going with your father, and I don't want to screw it up. I'm sure you don't want to screw it up, either. Your father loves you so much and if there's anything wrong, he'll do anything to fix it. I'll talk to Finn; he'll come around."

Kurt gave up, and decided it was for the best. He did trust Carole. "Thank you," he said.

"Now, don't take this the wrong way, but you want to tell me why you were out for so long?" She smiled slyly. "I won't tell Burt if you don't want to me," she added, and that sold Kurt.

"I was...helping a friend out," Kurt said vaguely. "He's, um, having some issues, but I think that'll be sorted out."

"Okay, fair enough. Let's go back into the room with the boys; I feel like there's too much wild testosterone in there," she said, and took Kurt's hand. He found it strange that just about an hour before, that same hand had been in a boy's that he used to hate.

(10:28)I did it

(10:29)thank you.

A/N: Wow, long chapter in such a short amount of time! I got very emotional while writing it; I've never really written anything on this level before...also some symbolism if you caught it :)