Kurt spent the rest of the day lost in his own head. Even though Santana, Quinn, and a few other Cheerios chattering around him throughout the day he couldn't recall any of the conversations. He'd faked a stomach ache when Santana had started ribbing him during third block, but the lie only made him feel worse. The look of betrayal on Blaine's face was permanently etched into his mind. The way the melting ice had run down his cheeks, the large stains that were splattered over his clothes, but more than anything he remembered the emptiness in the other boy's eyes – the brokenness.

There had been a hollowness in Blaine's gaze that he'd never seen before – one that he'd put there. Not only did it make him feel guilty, but it also scared him. Even if he'd only tormented Blaine over the past two years he'd still known him for five years before that. He'd never seen Blaine look like that – like he'd given up and stopped caring. That wasn't what Blaine did. Even when Kurt had turned his back on him two years ago and Blaine had been devastated, he hadn't looked like that.

When the final bell rang Kurt let Santana and Quinn shuffle him off towards the parking lot, and without a word he wandered over to his car. If either of the girls called him on his abrupt departure he didn't hear it.

He couldn't stand himself right now, couldn't stop replaying that morning and all of the previous Fridays when they'd done the same. It was only when he pulled into his driveway that he realized something. He'd been wrong when he'd thought Blaine had hated him that morning. Perhaps it had been there for a second, but it had disappeared when their eyes had met afterwards. Kurt hadn't succeeded in making Blaine hate him. He'd made him stop caring completely.

As soon as the door creaked open Finn's furious face was in front of him.

"How could you do that to him?" Finn bellowed. "Do you know how long it took him to wash that shit out of his eyes?"

Kurt knew exactly what his step-brother was talking about, and Finn's anger did something nothing else had all day. It jolted him out of his stupor and made the world around him feel like it was moving once more.

"Since when do you care about what happens to him?" Kurt snarled back. "You didn't care last week. Or two years ago when that used to happen to him and me."

"Guys!" Burt hollered, and Kurt suddenly became aware of his father and Carole standing behind his outraged step-brother. "Calm down now. Finn, you've barely even explained to us what happened."

"They– he and– "Finn spluttered in rage, pointing at Kurt. He took a deep breath that made him swell like a bull frog. "They cornered Blaine and slushied him. A ton of them. He probably froze to death on his way home."

"Stop being dramatic. I didn't... "Kurt began, but Burt's face morphed into a look of pure fury and Kurt's words died in his throat.

"Even after what I said to you, you still continued to- to– " Burt said, his voice hard and controlled. Kurt could see the anger in his eyes, and the disappointment. He felt something inside his chest start to break at the look. Blaine's expression had been unbearable enough that morning, but he couldn't handle his father on top of that. Carole stepped in.

"Burt, let Kurt say his side at least," Carole insisted. "Maybe he– "

"Maybe he what?" Burt bellowed, and all three of them jumped. "Maybe he stopped being the sweet, kind, compassionate young man I thought I raised?"

"Dad, I didn't– "

"Didn't what, Kurt?" Burt demanded. "Slushy that poor boy today? But you did last week, and however many weeks before that. After all the kid has done for you, you treat him like shit. When does it stop?"

"I– Dad, I'm–"

"We're going over to Blaine's house," Burt said suddenly, firmly. "Right now. I was going to let you do this on your own, but obviously I can't trust you to be a decent person anymore. You're going to apologize to him and make this right."

"But just saying it won't make a difference, "Kurt started to argue, but his father's words filled him with dread. He couldn't face Blaine like that. All he kept doing was digging himself into a deeper hole and hoping it would swallow him up or that this mess would just disappear. Confronting Blaine face to face would be agonizing, and Blaine's new indifference and possible anger made him want to curl up under the house and never come out. "Words won't make him– "

"Then you're going to prove it to him," Burt told him. "I don't care what it takes, Kurt. I am not sitting by and watching you destroy yourself like this. I am not going to watch you destroy Blaine."

"I am not going over there!" Kurt hollered back, panic and guilt bursting to life in his chest. He couldn't face it– him. Not after everything he'd done. Kurt just wanted Blaine to hate him, wanted him to get out of his head and his heart and his life so he could stop feeling like such a monster.

"You're going," Burt ordered, grabbing Kurt roughly by the arm. "You'll spend all of your Winter break with him and beyond that if that's what it takes. You won't see those Cheerios or any friends from school, and if you don't try to make this right I will personally go into school with you your first day back and sit down with Coach Sylvester and Principal Figgins."

"But Dad– "

"You'll be off the Cheerios for good until you understand what you're doing to Blaine– to yourself."

"I– but– you can't– "

"Don't tell me what I can't do, Kurt Elizabeth," Burt snapped, tugging him towards the front door. "Come on."

Feeling like he was being dragged to his own execution, Kurt let Finn and Burt force him out of the house and back down the driveway. Carole trailed behind them silently, but even the normally sympathetic woman looked disappointed and upset.

Kurt's chest ached terribly at the thought. He'd been a bastard, and he'd started to realize maybe all of this was the wrong solution, but he'd already set his course. It was too late to change all of this now. It was too late to even hope that some part of Blaine might still offer him forgiveness. No matter what his father said he couldn't rewrite all of this or fix it – he couldn't get back what he'd lost.

Kurt twisted impatiently in his seat, eyeing the clock on the far wall. At the desk next to him, Blaine was staring just as fixedly at him. Today was the day. As soon as the final bell rang the new roster for the Cheerios would go up and Kurt's whole world might change. He wasn't sure what he hoped was on that piece of paper in eight minutes, but he hoped whatever happened that it turned out good for both of them.

Since the first day of school four weeks ago he and Blaine had been mocked, slushied, shoved into lockers, and, in Blaine's case, given several swirlies by the football team. The only reason Kurt hadn't had the same was because he had taken to using the girl's bathroom with Mercedes and Tina. Their fellow Glee Clubbers stuck with them, which was nice, but he didn't know how they'd react if he joined the Cheerios.

"Relax," Blaine muttered from his side. "Just a few more minutes a– "

The chime that started the afternoon announcement began over the loud speaker, and Kurt started swallowing huge mouthfuls of air. His hands were shaking, and his mind was buzzing. It was insane how much this tryout had come to mean to him, but it gave him some sort of hope. Maybe things could get better for them if he nailed this. Maybe they wouldn't have to suffer everyday just because they existed.

As soon as the announcements ended the dismissal bell rang and Kurt vaulted for his chair and beat the rest of the class out the door. It was only when he was leaping down the stairs that he realized his bag wasn't smacking against his hip. Blaine would surely grab it for him, though. Blaine was always there to help hold him together.

A large crowd of girls were gathered around the notice board when he turned the corner. Even from a distance he could tell most of them were crying over the huge red and white list. A strong hand closed over his boney shoulder and squeezed.

"It's going to be fine," Blaine assured him. Kurt looked over at him, trembling and breathing shallowly. A closed lipped smile greeted him, but there was a steady, calm glow in Blaine's eyes that finally made him stop shaking like a leaf. "Come on," Blaine encouraged, using his grip on Kurt's shoulder to steer him down the hall. "Let's go take a look."

Kurt stumbled along at Blaine's side as the other boy cleared a path through the girls until they could see the list. He was shocked when a few of the girls reading it turned around and glared fiercely at him, but Blaine smiled good-naturedly at them and they moved along. As they moved he found himself right in front of the list. After a deep steadying breath and another shoulder squeeze from Blaine he started to read.

Listed in order of who sucked the least:

Quinn Fabray

Brittany Pierce

Santana Lopez

Kurt Hummel

An obnoxiously high-pitched squeal escaped from Kurt's mouth, but he didn't care. He threw himself into Blaine's waiting arms. "I made it! I made it!"

For a moment he thought Blaine was going to twirl him around, but the other boy's grip loosen as he stepped back. Kurt barely even registered what he'd just thought or why. Blaine was beaming at him as they left the crowd of girls in the hallway.

"I can't believe it," Kurt gushed as they stepped out into the bright sunlight. "I'm going to– I am a Cheerio. Nobody will slushy me once I'm in that uniform."

"Yeah," Blaine agreed quietly. "It's... it's gonna be great."

Even through the happy haze clouding Kurt's head he detected the difference in the other boy's tone. He glanced over at Blaine as they started their usual trek down the street to his house. The proud smile had faded from Blaine's face to be replaced by a look Kurt was more than familiar with. It was the same look Blaine wore whenever his father scolded or ridiculed him – dejected, anxious, hopeless.

"Hey," Kurt said, pausing on the sidewalk and grabbing for Blaine's hand. "What... what's wrong? This is a good thing."

"A good thing f- for you," Blaine corrected, keeping his eyes downcast. "What if... just because they won't go after you anymore doesn't mean they won't go after me."

"They won't if I say they can't," Kurt said firmly. "I'll have power, Blaine. Real power and people to back me up– "

"The Cheerios won't defend me," Blaine cut in miserably. "No matter how much you want them to, they won't."

"I– we'll..." Kurt trailed away as Blaine started to walk down the sidewalk again. Quickly he followed after him, latching back onto the other boy's hand tightly. "We'll figure something out, okay? I'm in now, maybe if I can establish myself within the group I can get them to follow me and stop doing all the mean things they do in general."

"Maybe," Blaine mumbled sullenly as they stopped at the corner to wait for the light to change.

"Blaine, this doesn't– you're still my best friend no matter what," Kurt assured him softly. "Nothing is going to change that. I thought you were still going to try out for one of the sports teams."

"My um, my dad wouldn't sign the form for the tryouts," Blaine muttered. "Said I'm too little and I'd just get hurt."

"You're bigger than me," Kurt cut in angrily.

"I'm not Cooper," Blaine whispered quietly, and there were tears glistening in his eyes.

Without another word Kurt knew Blaine and his father had had another argument. They'd been having more and more lately, and Kurt thought a lot of it stemmed from the fact that Blaine kept brushing his father off whenever he wanted to talk about girls. James Anderson wasn't a stupid man, and Kurt realized he'd more than figured out where Blaine's romantic interests lied. Blaine's father didn't like it at all, and every time Kurt had visited their house within the past month there'd always been little comments about how Blaine needed to be more like his older brother.

"No, you're not," Kurt agreed. "You're Blaine and you're amazing, okay? We're going to figure this out. I'm sure there's some team you can join. Soccer or something."

Blaine looked over at him as Kurt squeezed his hand tighter. The tears were still shining in his eyes, but he was smiling a little bit.

"What about football?"

"And have all that nasty helmet hair?" Kurt crinkled his nose at the thought as they started across the street."I absolutely forbid it."

"You don't mind it on Finn," Blaine reminded him. There was sharp sullenness to his voice as he spoke, and a distance flicker in his gaze that Kurt didn't understand. When Blaine hadn't shown much interest in prattling on about Kurt's crush he'd taken to keeping his thoughts to himself. But every now and then Blaine brought him up with a random little comment, and it bugged Kurt because he didn't understand why Blaine did it.

"Well, Finn's... he's nice to look at," Kurt mumbled defensively, his face heating up.

Blaine was silent for a moment as they continued to walk. "I've never been much of a football player, anyway. Cooper was teaching me how to box. Maybe I'll talk to my dad about doing that outside of school. If he sees I can handle that then maybe he'll let me join something in the spring."

Kurt smiled encouragingly at the temporary solution, but on the inside he was worried. What if he couldn't protect Blaine from the girls he was supposed to call his teammates? What if he had to pick a side before spring ever got here?

Kurt leaned against the banister on Blaine's front porch, listening to his father knock for the tenth time and trying to ignore the pounding of his heart. Blaine's car was parked in the driveway, but they'd been standing on the porch for fifteen minutes and despite his father's calls and knocks nobody was answering.

"His dad's car isn't here," Kurt mentioned hopefully. "They're probably gone for the holidays."

Burt paused in his pounding and glanced over at the driveway. His gaze traveled to Kurt's disinterested expression, to Finn's look of boredom, and then Carole shivering between the boys. Much to Kurt's chagrin he looked more determined than ever.

"I'm sure someone has to be home," Burt insisted. "School just let out half an hour ago. There's no way they left already if he was at school today."

"But he left early," Finn told him, his anger flaring up again. "He left because he was soaked and had nothing to wear."

Kurt glared over at his stepbrother as his stomach clenched. For the past twenty minutes he'd been repeating the same mantra over and over in his head. Don't think about it. Don't think about him.

Unfortunately it wasn't working at all. Memories of summer afternoons spent curled up in the porch swing with Blaine while they read magazines and books, or out on the lawn playing in the sprinkler, or even having water gun fights with Cooper were chasing each other around in his head. They were moments he hadn't thought about in a long time, and while it hurt him in some ways it also made him want to smile.

"Someone is home," Burt repeated, turning back to the door. He ran his hand over the top of the door ledge, but pulled back empty-handed. "And if Blaine won't let us in himself, we're going in to him."

Kurt's eyes widen in disbelief as his father picked up the doormat as he continued his search for a spare key. Fortunately Carole seemed to finally be seeing his side of all of this. Now maybe he'd get out of here before the memories started choking him.

"Burt," Carole said gently. "Maybe we should just go home and call them later. Set something up or– "

"No," Burt cut in angrily. "We're doing this today. I'm not letting this continue anymore." He turned back to Kurt, and Kurt cowered away from his father's fury. "You used to come here all the time. I'm sure you know where the spare key is."

Despite himself, Kurt looked up and his eyes flickered briefly to the wooden porch swing for a split second. It was all his father needed in order to go over to it and start running his hands over the underside. A few seconds later a triumphant noise greeted his ears and his father returned with the little copper key in hand.

"Burt, really, I'm pretty sure this is considered breaking and entering," Carole persisted anxiously as Burt stuck the key into the lock.

"Don't worry about that," Burt muttered as he pushed the door open. "Blaine? Are you here, kiddo?"

Silence greeted his words and Kurt finally snapped and huffed loudly. "See? Nobody's home. Now can we go? I've got an episode of– "

"Oh, no," Burt said sharply. "You're not watching television or doing anything until you settle this."

"But– "

"No," Burt told him firmly. He stared into the quiet entry way for a few moments before stepping over the threshold. "Come on. Maybe he's ignoring us."

"I would if I was him," Finn agreed, glaring pointedly at Kurt.

"Oh, shut up," Kurt snapped. "You can't even remember what a right angle is."

"I can, too!" Finn said furiously. "Blaine taught me that."

"Boys," Carole scolded, following them into the entry way as Burt disappeared down the hall, calling for Blaine.

Burt returned from the other side of the hall a few minutes later, looking annoyed. He sighed loudly as he stopped in front of them. "Nobody's down here."

"Right, now let's go– "

From upstairs something creaked loudly, and then something heavy and solid dropped onto the floor. They all glanced up at the ceiling as something – bed springs, Kurt thought – creaked once more.

"He must be asleep," Burt said, starting up the stairs. "Come on."

Kurt remained where he was as Carole nervously followed after him. It was only Finn's strong shove that forced Kurt towards the stairs, and then Finn's large, solid body blocking him from turning around and heading back outside that made him follow his father and Carole.

From down the hall he saw Burt knock softly on a door – Blaine's door. He'd never forget the layout of the Anderson house, not after all the nights he'd spent here with his best friend. Another sharp pang ripped through his chest. God, he'd really fucked up, hadn't he? Blaine still didn't hate him, and regardless of what happened now he would continue to hate himself. He couldn't change that, and even if he'd hoped to replace his own self-hatred with Blaine's eventual hatred of him to justify everything to himself he didn't think that was going to work anymore.

At the end of the day he wasn't going to gain his own forgiveness by trying to force Blaine to hate him. The thought that he'd been wrong to even try made his legs feel weak as he followed Carole into Blaine's room.

Kurt was slightly surprised to find that Blaine's room hadn't changed much. There were a few more awards and trophies on the dresser, a new flat screen television to replace the old bulky one, but otherwise the room was just as he remembered it. The sight of the familiar room was in sharp contrast to the young man he saw on the bed, sound asleep and curled up on his stomach with a melted ice pack on his back.

Blaine had definitely changed in the two years since they'd been friends, both physically and in other ways. The Blaine he remembered wouldn't have let Kurt continue to slushy him – that Blaine was the same one who had snapped back just as viciously as Kurt had back then. The same Blaine that had prepared an angry song for Glee that afternoon that had ended with Kurt fleeing the room and never returning.

Maybe that was part of the reason Kurt kept at it, besides wanting Blaine to hate him. Perhaps he just wanted Blaine to snap back – to fight back the way he once had. But for reasons he couldn't understand Blaine didn't do that anymore. He stood his ground and made sure Kurt had a target, but he never pushed back.

A flash of guilt passed through him as Burt lifted the ice pack up to reveal one large, darkening bruise across Blaine's back. Immediately he knew it was from the locker vents Blaine had been slammed, and then held, against. There were hand-shaped marks on Blaine's upper arms as well that made Kurt squirm uncomfortably. He'd caused that, and nobody in this room was going to let him forget it.

"Oh, you poor thing," Carole gushed as soon as she laid eyes on him. She bustled over quickly and stood next to Burt, too tentative to touch the sleeping boy, but her eyes were moving swiftly over his back and Kurt knew she was falling into nurse mode.

Burt dropped the lukewarm ice pack onto the bedside table and then bent to retrieve the alarm clock Blaine had knocked off in his sleep. That explained the noise they'd heard at least. His father shook his head briefly, shot Kurt a disappointed glance, and gently shook Blaine.

"Blaine, wake up. It's Burt," his father said softly. Blaine groaned faintly and wrapped his arms tighter around the pillow beneath him. "Come on, kiddo. You'll be up half the night if you don't wake up."

Burt shook Blaine a little more roughly, and finally Blaine's head rose a few inches off the pillow. "Hmm?"

"Up and at 'em," Burt encouraged, brushing Blaine's curls back. "We've got things to sort out."

"Burt?" Blaine mumbled in confusion, pushing himself up and then wincing. He reached around and gingerly ran a finger over the bruise. "Where's m' i' pack?"

"We'll get you another one," Burt informed him, helping Blaine to sit up. "That one's melted."

"Oh," Blaine said quietly. As he sat up and pushed the blankets off of himself, he caught sight of Kurt in the doorway. Kurt flinched as Blaine's expression morphed instantly into anger. "What's going on?"

Burt followed Blaine's line of sight, and Kurt crossed his arms tightly over his chest. He should just run out now, just leave and refuse to do any of this. But Finn was standing behind him in the doorway. There'd be no getting past him without a real fight.

"Kurt came over to apologize," Burt answered.

"You mean you forced him to," Blaine growled. "Just... just go away. I don't care." Blaine jerked his head in Kurt's direction. "Neither does he. Things aren't going back to how they were, so, please, just stop trying."

"That doesn't mean you can't make something better," Burt argued. "Or at least make peace so you both aren't so miserable."

"Dad, I'm not miserable," Kurt snapped. "I've got everything I've ever wanted– "

"Nice to know hogging the closet is still something you want then," Blaine cut in waspishly. "I guess once my growth spurt hit there really wasn't enough room for the two of us, right?"

Kurt trained his gaze on the floor and didn't answer. There was nothing remotely redeeming he could say to that, because he had outted Blaine. He'd outted Blaine in order to save himself and that was something he'd never be able to take back. Everything he'd been doing couldn't be taken back, which was why he just kept pushing forward with it. Time was linear for him, and once he chose a path there was no changing it. He'd picked this course and now he had to see it through, because there were no take backs. There was nothing he could do to make this up to Blaine, and he was still trying to learn to live with that.

"You what?" Burt demanded.

"Burt– "

"No, Carole. Can't you see why this can't go on?"

"Please," Blaine cut in. "Just go home. Leave me alone. I don't– "

"No," Burt told him. The desperation in his father's voice, the note of pleading made it feel like Kurt's heart had shattered in his chest. He'd known Blaine and him had both suffered from their fallout, but he'd never realized the truth would hurt his father so much. The fact that Blaine seemed to mean so much to Burt made his eyes burn with unshed tears. "Come on, you two can work this out."

"There's nothing to work out," Blaine insisted, glaring up at Kurt. "There's nothing left of the Blaine and Kurt you cared about, all right?"

Nothing left of them, Kurt repeated to himself. As he looked over Blaine's strong torso, at the chiseled definition of his cheeks and jaw and the dull, sad light in his eyes he knew Blaine was right. They weren't the same skinny fourteen year olds anymore.

Burt sighed loudly and looked between them again. "I'm not giving up on this. Just because you two did doesn't mean I will. I'll get your parents in on it if I have t– "

Blaine snorted loudly and rolled his eyes. Even Kurt was shocked at the action, because Blaine never acted that way towards an adult, especially Burt. "Like they care. Didn't care if they left me alone for Christmas and they won't care if we're friends or hate each other. Just let me go back to sleep."

A heavy silence followed Blaine's words as Blaine slumped back down onto the bed and buried his face into his pillow.

"Y- you're alone for Christmas?" Carole whispered sadly.

A muffled noise answered her, and Finn stepped up from behind Kurt eagerly. "You can stay with us!"

"What?" Kurt gasped in horror. "No!"

"Actually," Burt cut in, looking thoughtful. "I think that's a great idea."

Blaine pulled the pillow away from his mouth enough to disagree, but Burt stopped him quickly.

"No. That's ten days and you're only sixteen– "

"Seventeen," Blaine corrected miserably.

"You're not allowed to be home by yourself for that long," Burt continued sternly. "Come on, you'll stay with us. It'll be like old times."

"I– "

Blaine stopped talking, but Kurt could see his shoulders visibly slump, could see the defeat in his posture and the exhaustion on him face. There was no doubt in his mind that Blaine the prospect of being alone for that long was making Blaine feel even worse.

Burt added the final words that would make Blaine's decision for him, because even now Kurt realized that the last thing Blaine wanted was his parents' involvement in anything that made him look less than perfect like they thought Cooper was. That was something he'd figured out years ago and had once been hoping to make right. Now it was just going to end up with both of them stuck in the same house.

"I'll call them both and let them know Cooper won't be out this year and tell them it's against the law for you to stay alone for that long," Burt informed him. "You might as well just come with us now, since I'll offer to let you stay with us anyway."

"I– fine," Blaine grumbled, yawning and looking completely defeated.

As Finn and Burt started to gather a few things from around the room and the bathroom Kurt watched on, keeping his eyes fixed on any point in the room that wasn't Blaine. He should have known his father would work all of this to his advantage when he'd said he was going to make Kurt spend the whole week proving that he was sorry.

Now Kurt just had to figure out if he could really bring himself to admit it.