"Kurt? Kurt, let me in," Burt said, rapping on Kurt's bedroom door. "Do you want me to make you some toast? Or some of that organic tea you like so much?"

"I'm not hungry, Dad. Just please leave me alone," came Kurt's quiet voice.

Burt put his hand on the door, his heart aching for his son. "If you need to talk, about anything, son, I'm here."

"I just need some time," was the response.

Burt turned and walked down the stairs.

"Did he say anything?" Carole asked, concerned.

Burt sat in the easy chair heavily and shook his head. "No. It's gotta be something to do with Blaine. Nothing else could get him this upset."

Carole came over and sat on the arm of the chair, wrapping her arm around her husband. "He'll open up when he's ready, honey. We'll just give him the room he needs."

"Yeah. I guess so."

Kurt listened to his Dad and Carole talk downstairs. Heard would be more accurate. His ability to actually take in information was limited, his mind was so fuzzy. He had no idea how he'd responded to his dad, the words had just come out on their own. Other than his dad's voice, nothing had really been able to stir him from the fog. He shivered when Finn snuck in with bags of vegetables to make the swelling in his face go down. Finn kept renewing the mug of tea on the bedside table, though he drank none of it. His brother would ask him if he was ok, did he need anything, but Kurt couldn't answer. The questions never truly sank into the fog that he was drifting through in his mind. He had no idea if slept or not. All he knew was the fog and the nightmare that waited underneath it. In the nightmare, two figures held him down, two large guys. One was blonde, one was in a letterman's jacket. They took turns hitting him, slapping him, punching him in the face. Then would come the laughing. He would look up through the pain and see Sebastian with his arms around Blaine. Blaine smiled up at the taller man and stood on tiptoe to kiss him. That was when the already present pain in Kurt's chest would intensify, the ache unbearable. Sebastian responded to Blaine passionately, bending the smaller man backward, like a graceful dip at the end of a waltz. Moans would escape their mouths and the fiery pain in Kurt's heart would threaten to consume him. They finally broke apart from each other, almost unwillingly, and came to stand over him. Blaine's eyes were deep gold with passion and his lips were swollen. A knife twisted in Kurt's belly but when he looked down to find it, there was nothing there.

"Blaine, love, would you like the honors?" Sebastian asked, stroking his long fingers down Blaine's face.

"You're so sweet," Blaine said, giving him a brilliant smile.

Kurt moaned, the pain burning and aching deep inside him.

Blaine kissed Sebastian, a quick, intense motion before he leaned over Kurt. "You never were enough for me, you know," he said, his golden eyes full of icy fire. "Sebastian finally gave me what I needed. All that I needed." His eyes closed and he licked his lips. "I've never been more satisfied and fulfilled. Now there is just one last piece to the puzzle."

He knelt above Kurt, his beautiful, cold face coming closer and closer. Just as Kurt thought Blaine would kiss him, as hope surged through his battered body, he caught a glimpse of silver out the corner of his eye. Blaine reared up and Kurt barely got out a strangled scream before the knife blade was buried to the hilt in his chest.

He blinked and realized he was being held down by two hulking figures. They were taking turns hitting him over and over. Two people stood some distance from them, their arms wrapped around each other. The sound of their laughter surrounded him and filled Kurt with despair...

"Kurt, Kurt, come on, wake up," a voice urged him. "Come on, little brother, your dad is coming in and you have to wake up."

Kurt fought his way through the haze in his mind, half expecting to see Blaine standing over him with a knife. But his mind cleared and he realized it had been a nightmare, though the ache in his chest told him there might have been something real to it.

"Finn?"

"Yeah, buddy. Hey, I had to tell Burt something, so listen up. Can you hear me?" Finn asked, his face intense.

Kurt nodded and struggled to sit up, his body stiff. He realized the sun was up and he had somehow slept through the night. A moan escaped him as the ache in his face awoke.

"Take it easy there, you got clocked pretty hard. Now as far as Burt knows, there was a fight at the club and you got punched by some random guy. I didn't figure you'd want to get into the whole thing," Finn told him.

Nodding again, Kurt rubbed his eyes. "Thanks, Finn. Did you say anything about," he stopped, unable to bring himself to say anymore.

Finn looked down and shook his head. "I figured that was up to you, if you want to say anything. You might want to, though. Getting clocked isn't usually a reason to lock yourself in your room," Finn said with a grim smile.

"Unless you look as ghastly as I'm sure I do," Kurt replied. But Finn was right. Besides, Dad would want to know why Blaine wasn't coming over anymore. "Thanks again, Finn. For everything."

"Anytime," Finn replied, giving Kurt a light hug. He pulled back and walked out the door just as Burt came in the room.

"Hey, Dad," Kurt said. "I'm okay, I'm sure I look worse than I am."

"You've definitely looked better, Kurt," His dad said and came to the bed, gathering Kurt in his arms.

Kurt sighed, burrowing his sore face against his father's neck. The feeling of safety and home surrounded him. There had never been a safer place for him than right here. Well, there had been one place. A sob hitched in his throat and he swallowed it down quickly.

"Kurt, son, what happened? I know it's not just that some punk hit you. I called the club after Finn told me and I know there was a fight going on. Do you want to tell me about it?" Burt kept his son tucked against him, not wanting to let him go. There was such an ache in his heart and it had nothing to do with a heart condition. Something told him his son was hurting deep inside.

Kurt took a shuddering breath. "Blaine and I broke up, Dad," he said quietly. "I really don't want to talk about it, though, if you don't mind."

Burt closed his eyes. Damn, he thought. That kid had been so good for his son, this was going to hurt him for a while. "God, Kurt, I'm so sorry. Of course you don't have to talk about it," he said and pulled away to look Kurt in the eyes. Yeah, he could see it now. A haunted, empty look. A look he'd seen once before. In his own eyes. After his wife had died.