Blaine shivered as he turned over yet again, wishing he hadn't kicked the blanket off in panic when he'd woken up feeling trapped and claustrophobic from his nightmare. He couldn't shake the shooting from replaying round and round in his head, as if on continuous loop, and he was growing more and more frustrated. It had taken him forever to fall asleep in his empty house (his parents had gone away on a business trip, satisfied that his life was no longer in danger) and when he finally did, he just relived the events from two days ago, the scenes so clear that he felt they were actually happening.

He was huddled behind the piano again, ears straining for more gun shots over the sounds of his friends' sobs as he waited for his life to end. God, there were so many things he'd never get to do, so many things he'd never have the chance to say. And Kurt. He'd never get to see his beautiful face ever again, or watch his face light up in a smile, or hear him laugh, or earn his forgiveness. No, a voice said in the back of his head, no, you don't deserve his forgiveness. In fact, he'll be better off now. He was always better off without you.

Blaine felt rather than heard the strangled choking noise that came out of his throat as that thought hit him. He waved the camera away as Artie began trying to film him, burying his face in his arms. His head jerked up again, though, seconds later when someone shook the door handle. Oh God, they'd been found, the person with the gun had found them, it was all over. As the door flew open and another shot rang out, this time so close it seemed to rattle around Blaine's skull, and someone at the other end of the room screamed, Blaine closed his eyes and thought of Kurt. Kurt, who was still in New York. Kurt, who probably had no idea what was happening. Kurt, who would never know how much he meant to Blaine.

"I love you, Kurt." He murmured, so quietly he may as well have just been mouthing it, "I love you so much," A hand shoved him roughly and as his face hit the floor

He woke up with a start, body momentarily freezing in terror until he realised that his face was pushed into the plush carpet of his bedroom floor, not the hard choir room floor, having rolled out of bed in his agitation.

And so here he was hours later, it had to be at least two in the morning by now, still not able to close his eyes without reliving it all and panicking himself until he was a shaking, sweaty mess. He rolled onto his back and stared at the ceiling, hugging a pillow to his chest to try and find some form of comfort. He wished he'd told his parents that he wasn't ok, that he couldn't be alone this weekend, but when they'd asked, he had felt selfish. He was fine, he hadn't been hurt and if he was a little shaken, well he'd get over it, he wouldn't disrupt his parent's busy schedules. It wasn't worth it. He wasn't worth it. Blaine sniffled again as his thoughts instantly returned to Kurt and how far away he was right now.

He jumped as a loud knock on the front door echoed up the stairs, a feeling of panic instantly settling in his stomach as he wondered who the hell would be calling at this time. His first thought was some kind of murderer, but that would be taking unlucky to the extreme, wouldn't it? Surely one teenager couldn't survive a school shooting and get murdered in his own home in the same week in somewhere as mundane as Lima, Ohio? Blaine silently debated for a few more seconds the probability of the visitor being life-threatening until they knocked again, this time more persistent.

Heart hammering in his chest, he slowly climbed out of bed and, not even bothering to slide his slippers on, padded down the stairs to the front door and turned on the hall light. He felt his body tense, ready to fight or flee, as he fumbled with the keys on the doormat and shakily opened the door, still completely clueless (axe murderers aside) who it could be. He blinked as he took in the huddled figure wrapped in a long coat and then they stepped forward further and he saw unmistakably familiar blue eyes, shining brightly in the dimly-illuminated porch.

"Kurt...?" It came out as half statement, half question, but Blaine didn't have time to worry about that because he suddenly found himself with an armful of the taller boy.

"Oh God, Blaine!" Kurt sobbed, clinging onto him with ferocious force. "I-I heard on the news—and I couldn't get hold of you—I-I just thought—So I jumped on the first fight home and—Oh my God, Blaine!"

"Shh, it's ok, I'm ok," he murmured soothingly into Kurt's shoulder, his own arms circling round to enclose Kurt, tugging him impossibly closer.

They stood there silently, holding onto each other as both their bodies were racked by sobs. Blaine allowed himself to be held for a minute, his body sagging exhaustedly into the familiar shape of Kurt's embrace as his breath reassuringly tickled his neck. Eventually, Kurt composed himself slightly and pulled back, not completely but enough to put some distance between them. Blaine immediately missed the warmth and Kurt must have too because he shivered slightly a moment later, pulling his coat more tightly around himself.

"Do you-do you want to come in?" Blaine asked hesitantly, unsure again now that Kurt's arms were no longer around him.

"I-uh-yeah, yeah why not? I'm not interrupting anything, am I?" Kurt stammered, walking past Blaine into the hallway. Blaine shut the door behind him.

"Kurt, it's two thirty in the morning, what could I possibly be doing that could be interrupted?" Kurt smiled weakly at him as he led them both into the dark living room, flicking a lamp on. They both sat down on the large sofa and Blaine repressed the usual feeling of hurt as Kurt put a sizable distance between them. "To be honest, it's a good job you turned up. I couldn't sleep 'cause of nightmares anyway, and I think I was going slightly insane. I may have thought you were a murderer when you first knocked." He smiled again, but this time Kurt didn't return it, his eyes remaining wide and concerned.

"I knew you'd be by yourself, I knew it," He said softly, shifting closer to Blaine on the couch, though still not touching. "That's why I had to come. I spoke to Tina and she told me you were fine but I knew you'd be shaken, I mean who wouldn't? And your parents were bound to be away somewhere and I just—I had to see you."

Blaine's heart felt as if it was literally inflating at Kurt's words, as if his whole being had been waiting to hear them. Kurt cares about you. Despite what you did, no matter how little you deserve it, he cares about you. Blaine tried unsuccessfully to hold in another sob as the overwhelming feeling washed over him.

Kurt looked incredibly conflicted for a moment, his eyes flicking from Blaine to his hands and back again, before he seemed to give in and reached his arms out.

"C'mere," He said, motioning towards Blaine with his hands. Blaine froze for a moment, unsure what to do and hardly daring to believe what Kurt was offering.

"Come here, Blaine," He repeated, seeing Blaine's uncertain expression. That was all it took for Blaine to shuffle along the couch and lean into him, his face naturally finding that little nook where Kurt's shoulder joined his neck and nuzzling into it. A warm sense of contentedness ran through him as he felt Kurt lean his head on top of Blaine's, his nose pressed into Blaine's ungelled, sleep-mussed curls. Kurt whispered something softly that Blaine couldn't make out, but he decided not to press the matter, wanting to savour this moment for as long as possible. He released a breath he hadn't even realised he'd been holding in as he concentrated on Kurt's hand stroking slowly up and down his back, occasionally stopping to trace invisible patterns into his pyjama top.

"That better, honey?" Kurt asked quietly, the term of endearment seemingly slipping out before he could stop it, causing his hand to freeze. Blaine tensed in reaction, waiting for Kurt to inevitably pull away, desperately trying to stop himself from showing his despair. But Kurt didn't pull back. In fact, he hugged Blaine tighter, his fingers clutching at the material of his shirt.

They stayed like that for what felt like forever, Kurt's cheek pressed against Blaine's hair, their breathing falling into sink like it had so many times before . To Blaine, it felt more like home than the house they were sat in and, for the first time since he'd heard the first gun shot, he didn't feel afraid. In fact he felt almost comforted enough to fall asleep and was just nodding off when Kurt's badly-suppressed yawn brought him back to his senses.

"Oh, Kurt, God, I'm so sorry!" He apologised immediately, dragging himself out of Kurt's hold. "How inconsiderate of me, you must be exhausted. You flew back today and it's the middle of the night and here I am keeping you up—"

"Are you being serious right now?" Kurt cut across him, raising an eyebrow and wearing an expression he reserved for when Blaine said something particularly idiotic. "You had a near-death experience not two days ago and are now understandably completely shaken up by it and yet you're still more worried about me being a bit sleep-deprived?"

"Of course I am! I shouldn't have kept you up; you shouldn't have even come in the first place!"

"I had to make sure you were alright, didn't I?"

"I don't deserve that." Blaine muttered quietly, his gaze automatically lowering to his knees as his arms folded in around himself.

"Blaine," Kurt said slowly, carefully, as if talking to a small child. "Blaine, no matter what's happened, no matter what you've done," Blaine flinched at the words. "No matter what, I will always want to make sure you're alright, okay? I lo—I care about you too much not to."

Blaine shrugged, still refusing to look up and meet those gorgeous eyes that deserved so much more than him. So much more than a pathetic cheating first love who didn't know how much Kurt meant to him until he'd lost him. Kurt sighed heavily when Blaine's expression only hardened further.

"Well, it may not be an issue, but you're right, I am tired." Kurt said, standing up and stretching his arms above his head, his t-shirt riding up over his pale stomach and, no, Blaine was definitely not staring. "You don't mind if I stay here tonight, do you? Just by the time I drive home it'll be even later and I'll only wake dad and Carol up..."

"Um, yeah, of course, I'll just go make the guest room up." Blaine turned to leave the room but Kurt's hand caught his arm and spun him back around.

"You don't have to do that." He said, his eyes looking straight into Blaine's.

"I don't think anyone's stayed in there since my uncle and aunt came to visit so there's not even a sheet—"

"Blaine." Kurt said pointedly. "I'll be perfectly fine in your bed. It's not like I've never slept there before."

"Oh-I, er, sure. I'll just go grab a blanket and sleep on the couch, hang on." Blaine made to leave again, but Kurt stopped him once more.

"Don't be stupid. I know for a fact there's plenty of room for us both." Blaine gulped loudly. "Just 'cause, you know, it's late. There's no point faffing around trying to find a spare blanket now." Kurt added hastily.

"I—yeah," Blaine nodded, following Kurt up the stairs, his heart jolting once again at his familiarity with the way to Blaine's room.

He pulled the door to behind them, not quite shutting it, and watched awkwardly as Kurt climbed over to his usual side of the bed, instantly pulling the blanket up to his chin. Blaine perched the opposite side and turned off the light before carefully swinging his legs up onto the mattress so that he was lying right on the edge, his arms lying stiffly by his sides, his back ramrod straight. Although it seemed ridiculous even to himself, he was almost scared to breathe in case he disturbed Kurt in some way. God, they'd shared this bed so many times and yet never had they lain without any point of contact between them.

"For God's sake!" Kurt said eventually, breaking the awkward silence and causing Blaine to tense up further.

"Sorry," Blaine apologised immediately. "I knew this was a bad idea, I'll go sleep on the couch—"

"No, no, no. That's not what I meant." Kurt interrupted. "I just—this is ridiculous. How many times have we shared a goddamn bed?"

Blaine turned his head to look at Kurt, who had rolled over onto his side and was now facing him. They stared each other for a beat too long and then Kurt huffed out a sigh and wriggled closer so that his knees were touching Blaine's legs. Blaine rolled over so that they were face-to-face and Kurt gave him a small smile before gently draping his arm over Blaine's waist.

"Better?" he asked quietly, his warm breath ghosting over Blaine's face. Blaine grinned in the darkness.

"Much." He answered, his eyes burning with the effort of staying open, yet unable to look away from the beautiful face that was finally in front of him.

"Go to sleep then." Kurt said, smiling back at him. God, Blaine had missed that smile so much. "You're safe now. I'm prepared to go all New Yorker on the ass of anyone who tries to get in, okay?"

Blaine's smile stretched impossibly wider. "Night, Kurt."

"Night, Blaine."

Blaine was just falling asleep when he felt the brush of warm lips on his forehead and a soft 'I love you so much' whispered against his skin.