Kurt pulled up to his house, cut the engine and rested his head on his arms, on the steering wheel. He was exhausted, in pain and, despite being home, scared to death.

How could he have been so stupid?

He knew Blaine's father's politics. He should have realized that people on his staff might have fucked up ideas about homosexuals and, it was obvious Kurt was gay. How could he have allowed his curiosity to get the best of him? The whole thing was so stupid. And now...now he's in pain and Blaine...

He didn't want to think about Blaine.

Kurt slowly climbed out of his car and walked around to the backdoor. He was sure his dad and Carol were out, but he didn't want to take any chances. He just had to get to his room. He wanted to take some ibuprofen, take a bath and inspect the damage to his body. He would need to come up with a great concealer plan to hide the bruises on his face.

He crept into the house and was grateful Finn was engrossed in a video game. Once in his room, he removed his clothes and stood in front of the mirror. The sight of his bruised skin pained him almost more than the physical pain. Kurt loved his porcelain skin, but Blaine loved it even more. It bothered him that he would be less than beautiful for his boyfriend. He sat down on his bed.

Damn.

How was it that he cared more about looking beautiful for Blaine than about the physical pain he was in? Kurt was drowning in this relationship. He glanced at his reflection again. Yes, he was drowning, and he never, ever wanted to come up for air. Right or wrong, he was consumed by love for Blaine.

Blaine.

What was Blaine doing right now?

Kurt shook the thought from his head and went to run a bath.

As he sat in the warm water, he allowed the tears to fall. Where was his boyfriend? What was he doing? Was he killing someone because of him? Did Jack deserve to die for what he had done to him? Was it that, really, really, really good reason, he and Blaine had talked about just a few weeks ago?

Kurt shuddered as he heard his mind answer, yes.

But did he really want Blaine to do it?

It didn't matter.

Kurt knew Jack was already dead.

He looked at the palms of his hands. Would he tell Blaine about pushing Jack off of him? How, as he was on his knees, his head painfully pulled back, Jack's dick frighteningly close to his mouth, his hands had suddenly become warm and felt strong and he had pushed against Jack's thighs and sent him flying across the room.

He wasn't sure he was going to tell him. Not yet anyway.

Kurt climbed out of the bath and the exhaustion hit him in full force. He put on his robe and laid down on the bed but found it impossible to sleep.

He was still scared.

He needed Blaine.

But Blaine was busy.

Committing murder.