Blaine woke with a start, his heart pounding and his ears ringing. It was pitch dark and for a long while he was scared to move.

Just a dream, just a dream, just a dream, just a dream he thought quickly, willing himself to calm down.

He wasn't sure how long he lay there, too scared to move. It felt like a long time to him, but in his panic he couldn't be sure. Finally, too hot beneath his blankets, and despite his racing heart, he allowed himself to move. Sitting up, he reached over and turned on his bedside lamp. The gloom melted away immediately: leaving him not in a cold cement cell, but safe and sound in his bedroom once more. Surrounded in the yellow glow of light, Blaine found his hands had stopped shaking, and he was able to think clearly. He realised then that he'd been crying.

Sitting up against his headboard and taking deep breaths, he replayed the nightmare over in his mind. He'd been having them a lot lately: dreams in which he hadn't been saved from Hunter's clutches; alternate realities that ended in his death. Yet this one had been different. Still as horrible, still gut-wrenchingly scary, but …

He had been trapped again, lying prone on the cell floor. He saw Hunter, standing before him in all his ferocity, blocking out all else with a looming raised fist.

In his dream Blaine had tried to scream. He'd opened his mouth and was met with nothing but silence. He remembered raising his arms to shield his face in a last-ditch effort. Heard Hunter's booming laugh. At the same time, his hands were tied behind his back.

Suddenly the room erupted in flames. He opened his eyes and stared at Kurt, who was standing alone in the centre of the room. He was dressed in a suit, the same as when Blaine had first met him – but he wasn't the same as Blaine remembered. Turning to meet his stare, he saw Kurt's eyes glow orange.

Hunter reared his head in anger – but he wasn't Hunter anymore, but he was – facing Kurt with a glare. But his face did not belong to him: It was Blaine's father now who was glaring, a disapproving frown that was oh so familiar…

Hunter raised his hand threateningly – or was it Brom's hand? – And made to strike:

"WE MUST KILL THEM BEFORE THEY KILL US!" He bellowed, Brom's voice echoing from his mouth.

Blaine made to scream again, to warn Kurt of the danger, but his voice was still gone and it was too late.

Just as Hunter's blow fell, Burt Hummel burst into the room. At the same time, a blinding flash of light engulfed his son, obscuring him from view.

Blaine was running. The room was dark again and Hunter was gone. He knelt down in the centre of the room, where Kurt lay lifeless. This must have been when Blaine had started crying. He remembered hot tears trailing down his cheeks as he reached over and took Kurt's hand in his.

"He could have done better than you," Burt Hummel whispered behind him, "Why couldn't you admit you were wrong?"

Blaine just held Kurt tighter, wishing they would understand. He loved Kurt, he wouldn't hurt him. He didn't want to hurt anybody …

"You'll only cause him trouble boy," it was the voice of Kurt's friend; "we have to keep him safe."

"Keep him safe from what?" Blaine asked, helpless.

"Keep him safe from Monsters."

When Blaine looked down, Kurt's eyes were watching him, and the world erupted in flame.

He hadn't realised he'd been doing it, but Blaine now found himself seated before his computer. The main light was on, and the screen was whirring into life. His mind was turning, spinning. It felt as though everything was clicking into place: pieces of information he hadn't thought to put together. Things his subconscious had known all along, had tried to tell him in his sleep. Suddenly, he knew what to do.

His heart was racing, and it had nothing to do with nightmares.

So maybe Kurt wasn't as strong-willed as everyone thought. In fact, he was entirely capable now and then of lapsing judgement. He'd already proved it, back when he thought dating Blaine Anderson in secret was a good and harmless idea. And he was proving it again now as he turned in and parked at the end of the boy's street.

Although maybe all that really proved was that Kurt was rather bad at saying no to Blaine. And that Blaine had hypnotically sparkly eyes. Kurt couldn't be blamed for somebody else's eyes now, surely?

Either way, he'd received a text message earlier that day during AP History. All it had read was:

Can you at least give me one last good-bye? Midnight at my house? I love you.

And how could he say no to that?

As he made his way up the Anderson's lengthy drive, he tried to still the nerves and guilt he felt; his father didn't know he was here, and Kurt was surely going behind his back in doing this. But he felt like this was something he needed to do, if not for Blaine, then for his own peace of mind and closure. This was something that a lone text message couldn't give him.

As he ascended the Anderson's front steps, he wondered briefly what he would do if Blaine tried to text him again after tonight. He liked to think he would ignore it. He liked to think many things.

With a steadying breath, he knocked on the door.

"Kurt?" The door opened slightly as Blaine Anderson stared wide-eyed at him. Kurt tried to speak, but found his voice gone. Instead, he felt his eyes filling up with tears. Blaine was here, standing right in front of him and looking beautiful as ever.

And then they were hugging, Blaine's arms wrapped around his neck, his face pressed into Kurt's neck.

"I didn't think you'd show," he sniffed. Kurt just held on tighter, gripping the back of Blaine's shirt.

They ended up on Blaine's bed, laying side by side, arms wrapped lazily around one another. They weren't speaking; Kurt supposed there was nothing to say. Instead he rested his head on Blaine's shoulder and closed his eyes, committing it all to memory. The feeling of being held and loved washed through him, and he wished he could bottle it up and keep it forever.

Blaine stroked his fingers through Kurt's hair, thinking. He'd been wondering about this moment for hours on end now. Seeing Kurt again, knowing now what he knew now. He'd imagined everything would change, that it wouldn't be the same, but it was. He'd expected Kurt to look different, somehow - as though the mere knowledge of what he was would turn him from Blaine's sweet boyfriend into something dangerous and frightening. Yet as Kurt sighed softly in his arms, his thumb tracing circles on his shoulder, all Blaine felt was comfort; warmth. He didn't feel scared, like he'd imagined. He felt safe.

"Penny for your thoughts?" He was surprised when Kurt spoke. He realised the boy had been watching him, and he hadn't noticed. Blaine looked into those blue eyes, a picture of innocence, and sighed.

He sat up shakily, pulling out of Kurt's hold. The other boy pulled away and sat up too, frowning slightly at Blaine's sudden change in mood. "Blaine, what's wrong?"

Blaine just shook his head, struggling to find the words. He had to be honest, to tell Kurt what he knew. But it was difficult.

"I suppose I should explain this from the beginning." He said slowly, glancing up. Kurt just watched him, face blank. There was no turning back now. Steeling himself, Blaine began speaking:

"You obviously know about what happened a while ago; I mean … you were in the car when it happened, and the one moment we were fine and the next…" he let out a shuddering breath. "When I came to, I didn't know where I was, and I didn't know where you were either. You'd been right next to me, and then you were gone, and I wasn't sure if you'd made it out or if you were somewhere close by and I couldn't see you or…"

"I was fine, Blaine," Kurt said, placing a soothing hand on his shoulder, "I got out and I was fine; I went home."

Blaine shook his head, smiling sadly. "No you didn't."

Kurt looked confused.

"I mean, you might have at first, but there's no need to lie to me."

"I'm not lying -"

"Yes you are." Blaine didn't shout, his voice was calm and resigned, but Kurt stopped in his tracks. "All I remember from that night, Kurt, was when I was rescued. The fire, the people, all dressed in black. All with those powers. I don't think I need to tell you who they were.

"I heard your voice, Kurt. And until yesterday I'd pushed it aside, imagined myself to have been hallucinating or something but I figured it out. I know you were there, I've figured it all out."

"I wasn't there Blaine," said Kurt, his voice calm and gentle, "you were frightened and hurt-"

Blaine stood up, stepping out of Kurt's soothing grasp. "Please don't lie to me, Kurt."

Kurt looked at him and frowned, "Blaine, I'm not lying. And you're really kind of scaring me now, so please just sit down."

But Kurt didn't look scared. To anyone else he might have, but Blaine knew him too well. To him Kurt only looked on edge; he looked guarded. He knew it was time now to go all out, to tell Kurt everything.

"You moved to Lima when you were nine," he said softly.

Kurt froze, surprised. This wasn't what he'd been expecting, but Blaine continued: "It was the year after your mother had died. That's what you told me, Kurt. Isn't it? That she died in a house fire? You were only eight years old…"

"Stop it." Kurt snapped, but his eyes were wide. Blaine continued:

"You must have been terrified. You must have disappeared quite suddenly, before anybody figured it out."

"You're mad, Blaine. Just stop it."

"There were articles in the local paper about it. About who they suspected had done it. With a young mother dead, her husband and eight-year old son's bodies never found, people suspected foul play. They suspected arson, but there was no cause. They say the fire started in the child's bedroom, but how could that have happened? How does a fire just start in the middle of an eight-year-old's bedroom Kurt?"

"I don't know what you're talking about!"

"- And it's funny, because the only other mutant who can control fire is a known member of New Directions, Kurt! And I'd guess he's the same age now as that boy from that article would be. And he's the same age as you. Isn't that funny, Kurt? Isn't it funny how things work out like that?"

"So what?" snapped Kurt, standing up, "how does that have to prove anything?"

"I know you were there Kurt!" Blaine answered, his voice pleading, "I know. I heard your voice and I saw your eyes, so please don't lie to me!"

Kurt didn't answer, though. Instead, he made towards the door, bolting.

Blaine almost didn't have time to react, shooting after the other boy. Luckily, he managed to grab Kurt's arm and pull him back into the room.

"Let go of me!"

"Kurt, stop!"

Blaine struggled to maintain his grip on Kurt, who was panicking now in his efforts to escape. Suddenly, though, Blaine jerked back with a gasp, letting go as though burned. Exactly as though burned.

Kurt gasped as Blaine stepped back in shock, clutching his hand. He froze in horror as what he'd done sunk in. "Oh my gosh," he said, shaking, "Oh my gosh I'm so sorry-"

Blaine realised then that Kurt had reached the end of his emotional tether. He sat down on the floor, hands shaking as he began to cry, overwhelmed and in shock.

"I'm so sorry – I didn't mean to, I swear! I'm sorry! Please don't tell them, please! My dad – it'd kill him, please-!"

Blaine could feel himself staring, but he couldn't move. Kurt was kneeling in the middle of his bedroom floor, pleading him. Pleading for his life. Too late, Blaine realised he should have expected a reaction like this: He knew the laws in place against mutants; he should have expected Kurt to be scared. It was the same reason he'd been yelled at by Mr. Hummel and pushed away by Kurt's friend: it was panic, and fear for Kurt's life.

It made him sick. Looking at Kurt now, helpless and innocent, Blaine wondered how anyone could be so hateful as to want him dead. How could someone be so cruel as to leave innocent people living in fear because of things they couldn't control? For all this talk of monsters, wasn't that the most monstrous thing of all?

"Don't cry," Blaine whispered, moving forward. He slowly knelt on the floor beside Kurt, wrapping his arms around the other boy. "It's okay Kurt. I won't tell. You have nothing to be afraid of."

As he pressed small kisses into Kurt's hair, Blaine could feel him calming down, his breathing evening out slowly. He was still crying though, but Blaine could tell it was more from shock than fear now. He kept whispering to him, though he wasn't quite sure what he'd said. He hoped his tone was helping though, lulling Kurt into a sense of comfort once more.

They stayed like that for a long time; Blaine rocking them back and forth just so, in what he hoped was a soothing manner. Even once Kurt had stopped crying, they'd remained huddled together on the floor, Kurt's head on Blaine's chest.

"You know," said Blaine after a while, "as comfortable as my carpeting is, there is a bed right there."

He was surprised to hear Kurt giggle, and moved out of Blaine's lap. Blaine got carefully to his feet, offering Kurt his right hand to help him up.

"Thank you-" Kurt started, but stopped, "Your hand." He said sharply.

"What about it?" Blaine replied brightly, feigning innocence, but Kurt wasn't having any of it. Before he could move, Kurt had grabbed his left wrist, holding the palm out in full sight.

"I've hurt you." He said, dismayed.

It was true: The skin of his palm was red and blistered, as though he'd pressed it against hot metal. It looked horrible; Blaine hadn't even noticed it before, but now he could feel it throbbing painfully.

"It's not a big deal," he said hurriedly, noting Kurt's expression. But the other boy ignored him, staring carefully at Blaine's hand.

"Where's your first aid kit?" he asked, frowning. Blaine wanted to lie and say he didn't need it, but he wouldn't be fooling anyone. They could both see just how bad it was. The only way to make Kurt less upset now was just to go along with him.

"In the kitchen." Blaine sighed, and followed behind Kurt as the boy drew him along by the wrist.

Once downstairs, Kurt wordlessly shoved Blaine onto one of the bar stools, closest to the sink. Rinsing his hand under the cold water, Blaine watched as he pulled out the first aid kit with a sour expression. They didn't speak, aside from Kurt's "this will sting a bit" when he put on the burn cream.

It was only once it was bandaged up that Blaine smiled at Kurt and said: "There! Good as new!"

He didn't expect Kurt to return his smile, so he wasn't disappointed. In fact, Kurt still looked upset.

"Hey," said Blaine, slipping off the bar stool and coming up beside him, "don't look at me like that; I'm fine."

He lifted up his bandaged hand and wiggled his fingers. Kurt sighed and rested his head on Blaine's shoulder: "I'm sorry." He said sadly.

"For what?"

Kurt scoffed, "For burning you, first of all," he said bitterly, "Not to mention lying to you, then dumping you by text message and ignoring you…"

"You didn't lie to me," Blaine interrupted.

"I didn't tell the truth." Kurt replied.

"Well, you had a good reason," said Blaine, "if anyone should be sorry, it's me. I mean, man, you must hate my dad."

This won him a smile, small and bright on Kurt's face: "Only what he's doing." He said warmly.

"He's trying to kill you!"

Kurt just glanced at him in wonder: "I can't believe you don't."

Blaine shot him a hurt look, and Kurt immediately regretted saying it: "Why would I want you killed? Why would you think that?"

Kurt shrugged guiltily. "I'm a mutant. I wouldn't blame you if you did. I entered this relationship knowing full-well that could be the case."

Blaine frowned, stepping away to face him fully. "Kurt," he said seriously, meeting the other boy's eyes, "I want you to listen, and I want you to listen carefully: I love you. I love you, and I could never imagine hurting you. And I could never imagine you hurting me, or anyone else for that matter. I don't care how powerful you are, how dangerous your powers are, because I trust you and I know how good you are, and how kind."

He pulled Kurt into a hug then, wrapping his arm firmly around his shoulders. "I love you, Kurt Hummel." He said softly.

"I love you too," Kurt said, teary-eyed once more. "I love you too."

Sometime later they made their way back to Blaine's room, and sometime after that they fell asleep, curled up in each other's arms on Blaine's bed.

They remained this way all night, and as morning crept in, bathing them both in the light from Blaine's window. It wasn't until Kurt's phone went off that they woke up, suddenly startled by the buzzing cell.

"Mph, what time is it?" Blaine groaned, rubbing his eyes and disentangling his limbs from Kurt's. Kurt didn't answer, too intent on scrabbling to retrieve his phone.

"Oh no," he said, sitting up as he read through his messages. At his expression, Blaine sat up too.

'What is it?" he asked.

"It's my dad," Kurt said, turning to look at him, "he found my room empty when he got up for work. He wants to know where I am."