As the front door slammed, Burt stood up from where he'd been sat in the living room, repeatedly ringing Kurt's answer but to no avail. He hurried out into the hall before Kurt could make it to his room.

"You gonna tell me what the hell's going on?" He demanded but Kurt ignored him, descending the steps to the basement and shutting the door in Burt's face. Obviously, he just opened it and followed Kurt inside, watching in bewilderment as his son threw himself, face down, onto the bed.

"Kurt, what's going on, buddy? You left in a right hurry and there better be a good excuse as to why you haven't been answering your phone..." Burt tried again, fidgeting with the phone still in his hand. Kurt didn't answer and instead buried his face further into his pillow. This wasn't new behaviour to Burt; Kurt had always been melodramatic and Burt had therefore been victim to quite a few hissy fits and tantrums over the years. Though, now that Burt thought about it, he hadn't been subjected to one since that whole business with Finn when he and Carol had first got together.

"Seriously, Kurt, I'm not a freakin' mind reader...you're going to have to give me something to work with here..." There was still no answer for a few seconds and then a muffled-sounding sob came from where Kurt's face was still pressed into his pillow. Burt might not know what the hell was going on, but if Kurt was upset he was damn well going to get to the bottom of it.

"Kurt..." He said, his voice quieter, softer as he sat next to Kurt on the bed, patting his back somewhat awkwardly. "Ok, here's a wild guess...does Blaine have something to do with this?"

Kurt still refused to so much as look as his dad, let alone answer, but another loud sob choked its way out and that was all the confirmation Burt needed.

"Right, so what happened with Blaine then?" Burt sighed, scrubbing a hand over his face. "Did he—has he done something—you know—that hurt you again...?" he asked awkwardly, unsure how to bring up the subject of Blaine cheating. It still seemed so out of character and, well, wrong to Burt.

Kurt rolled over at that, looking up at his father with puffy, red-ringed eyes.

"N-no," He whispered, so quietly that Burt had to lean in to hear it. "It-It was me that hurt him."

"Ok..." Burt said slowly, at a loss as to what Kurt could've done that would've hurt Blaine. Then it hit him. "Does this have something to do with that other guy you were seeing? The British one?"

"His name is Adam, dad. And no—not exactly...well, maybe kind of but that's not why Blaine's upset."

"Wait, where is Blaine?" Burt asked and realised too late that that was the wrong thing to say as Kurt dissolved into more sobs again. It took Burt several more minutes to calm him down.

"He—he left after—God, dad, he thinks I hate him. And I—I tried to look for him but I couldn't find him nearby and he—he couldn't have gone that far but I couldn't—"

"OK, look, here's what we're going to do." Burt cut across Kurt's rambling, his voice calm yet forceful. "I'm going to take my truck and go look for him, ok? Like you said, he can't have gone far. You're going to stay here and calm down. Clean yourself up a bit with your fancy creams and crap because when I bring Blaine back, I'm sure you'll want to look presentable."

"Th—Thanks, dad." Kurt whispered, a sense of relief and comfort spreading through him that only a parent could provide. That incomparable feeling that everything was going to be alright, that it would all be taken care of, that he was loved.

"Oh and when we get back, you two are gonna sit down somewhere and have a darn good talk because I don't know what happened, but it sounds to me like both of you need to get your heads out of your asses and tell each other how you feel already."

"Ok," Kurt agreed, his voice small. "Dad?"

"Yeah, bud?" Burt paused in the doorway, fishing his keys out of his pocket.

"I'm scared." Kurt didn't offer any more than that, but still Burt understood.

"Love is scary, Kurt. But that doesn't mean it isn't worth it in the end." With that, he closed the door behind him, leaving Kurt on the bed, mind made up as to what he needed to do.


*


Blaine got up from where he'd spent the last forty-five minutes huddled behind the hedgerow of the park down the road next to the one leading from Kurt's house and looked around, blinking in the sunlight. He hadn't cried after the initial tears that always accompanied that stinging sense of hurt or rejection. To be honest, after the last few days, he was probably all cried out. God, I'm so pathetic, he thought bitterly as he brushed himself down.

He didn't blame Kurt for how he'd reacted; to be honest, he probably would've reacted in the same way had their roles been reversed. But they're not, are they Blaine? You're the one who couldn't handle the long distance thing for a few fucking months. You're the one who's now lost him forever. You're the one he hates.

He'd seriously deluded himself into thinking Kurt had forgiven him, that they were finding their way back to each other. He snorted as he went to sit on one of the swings, staring at his shoes as they scuffed against the dirt, flicking bits up, ruining the smooth surface. God, he didn't even deserve to be forgiven and deep down he'd known that all along, but still he'd allowed himself to get carried away, to convince himself that there was some possible way to claw everything he'd lost back to him.

He reached into his pocket to check the time and then realised that he'd left this phone at Kurt's. He briefly considered going back for it, but quickly thought better of it. Kurt wouldn't want to see his face ever again, let alone right now, after what he'd done earlier. Nicely done, Blaine, you've screwed up with the love of your life again.

Because Blaine kept screwing up; even when he tried hard not to and that was the problem wasn't it? No matter what he did, no matter what his intentions, he always fucked everything up, every single time. Well, he wouldn't do it again. He'd officially give up. It wasn't like there were many people left to mess up with anyway; his parents still paid for Blaine's food and school supplies, but he'd lost any respect they'd had for him the day he'd come out (Blaine wasn't stupid, he knew why they now spent so much time at work, unable to properly look him in the eye); it wasn't like he really spoke with the Warblers anymore, not since Hunter had taken over at any rate; and Carol and Burt would never want to see him again, neither would Finn—they were probably all glad he was out of Kurt's life for good. In fact, now that Blaine thought about it, the only friends he had left were the rest of Glee Club so all he'd need to do was drop out of that and then he wouldn't be able to hurt anyone ever again. He could even convince his parents to let him be home-schooled again if necessary, like he had been after the whole Sadie Hawkins incident.

Blaine felt tears pooling in his eyes again as he remembered how isolated he'd felt that year, away from everyone and left to remember how it'd felt to be beaten senseless and powerless to do anything about it. He clenched his hands into fists around the chains of the swing, the metal hurting the sensitive skin of his palm, and forced the tears away. No, he deserved to be cut off from everyone; he'd brought it on himself and he wasn't allowed to fucking blubber about it.

"You're not allowed to cry," He murmured forcefully, as if the words would someone stop the aching sensation in the back of his throat.

"Bullshit. You're allowed to cry as much as you want to." The familiar voice made Blaine look up and he almost fell off the swing when he saw Burt Hummel stood across from him, arms folded across his chest. For a second, Blaine felt a weird sense of hope swell up inside of him, but he quickly pushed it down, dropping his gaze and shaking his head slowly.

"You left your phone." Burt said, holding it out in front of him for Blaine to take. Blaine did so reluctantly, who would he have to text anyway once he'd quit Glee? "I found it on the coffee table. You left in quite the hurry, didn't you?"

Blaine shrugged, still not trusting himself to meet Burt's gaze.

"Well, you don't have to talk to me if you don't want to. I'm just here to bring you back home." Blaine felt sick at how nice Burt was; he was willing to drive him the half an hour home despite the fact that he'd just messed up everything with Kurt again.

"It's fine." Blaine didn't recognise his own voice. It sounded empty and distant, no shred of emotion in it. "I can walk, it's only half an hour away."

Burt looked confused for a second.

"Kid, I was referring to our house. Kurt wants to talk to you, he's in a right state."

"Oh." Of course he was, Blaine had left so fast he hadn't had a chance to properly end things, he probably wanted to just clarify that he never wanted to see Blaine ever again. The thought felt like a knife, slicing through his insides sharply, although why he didn't know, it wasn't like he didn't already know this. "I'd rather not." He said eventually, once he could trust himself to speak, realising Burt was still watching him expectantly. "Tell him not to worry, I get it."

"Get what exactly?" Burt raised an eyebrow, still baffled.

"That he doesn't want to see me again. I understand completely. I'll stay away from now on." His voice was still flat, emotionless. Burt huffed out a laugh and Blaine flinched, an instinct after years of being the laughed at, the subject of everyone's jokes. Then, suddenly, Burt was bending down, ducking his head to meet Blaine's eyes.

"I wouldn't do that if I were you. That might just about kill him." He said, his tone light but his eyes very serious.

"Um, sorry?" Blaine was thrown off guard by Burt's comment, and it was his turn to look utterly confused. Burt just straightened up again, placing his ahnd on Blaine's shoulder.

"I think it's best if you hear it from Kurt." He said slowly, glancing over his shoulder at the road, where Blaine hadn't noticed until now that his truck was parked. "Come on, let's go."

He walked off towards the truck but Blaine remained seated for a second, his mind swirling with conflicting emotions. He desperately wanted to stay here, knowing he wouldn't be strong enough to face Kurt's final insults and then last goodbye without braking completely, but at the same time, if Kurt felt he needed to get it out, to let Blaine know just what a horrible human being he was, then who was Blaine to deny him that? Surely that was the very last thing he could give to Kurt; surely he owed him at least that much.

Swallowing around the persistent lump in his throat, he got up slowly on shaking legs and followed Burt back to the truck, wondering whether it was possible to actually collapse from feeling too many emotions in one day. He hoped so. Then he wouldn't have to face any of this, like the coward he was, and everything would just fade into a black oblivion. God, he wished he could just die right here, in this little park in the outskirts of Lima freaking Ohio. Besides, wouldn't that just be easier for everyone?