When Carole went to bed at one o'clock in the morning and still hadn't received an answer to her texts, she was certainly worried, but not terribly surprised. Kurt was with Blaine, and while she didn't know the boy particularly well, she knew the thrills of young, first love. Just those few moments at the Hummels' house on Wednesday morning had told her everything she needed to know about Kurt and Blaine's relationship. Even if they would both deny it endlessly, that tender moment at the top of stairs had been between two boys who were hopelessly, dizzyingly in love with each other.

However, when Carole woke up at seven to force Finn awake and still hadn't received a response to her queries about Kurt's well-being she went from worried to nervous. Shortly after, Carole headed to the Hummel residence from her own home to see if Kurt and Blaine were there like they had been the other day, but found the empty house untouched. A quick check of Kurt's clothes hamper told Carole he hadn't come back to change, and Kurt never wore the same outfit two days in a row. At the discovery, Carole started toeing the line into frantic. She was almost out of the door, stumbling in heels that were too tall and skinny for her comfort, and scrolling through her contacts list for Kurt's number when the house phone rang behind her.

Carol stumbled back through the house and grappled for the phone, knocking over the spice rack in her urgency. An automated message from the McKinley High attendance office droned through the line and Carole leapt across the line separating frantic and borderline panic. Kurt had told Carole enough about the area that Blaine lived in for her to realize it was not exactly the place where two boys in love with each other should ever be. Something may have even happened beforeKurt had gotten to Blaine's last night.

But, no, she would have known by now. Carole took a deep, steadying breath and reminded herself of the facts. She worked at the hospital. All of her co-workers knew who Kurt was and someone would have phoned her to tell her if he'd been brought in late last night. There were only two logical answers to Kurt's whereabouts: he was still at Blaine's (and she could imagine why) or he was lying dead in a ditch somewhere and hadn't been found yet.

Neither thought was particularly comforting. They definitely didn't stop Carole from continuing on in her flustered state of panic as she made a quick trip down to Kurt's room for a clean outfit before racing back upstairs. Heart hammering, Carole floundered down the front steps, nearly twisting her ankle when her stupid heel caught on a crack in the sidewalk, and hopped into her car. She really should have gone with on the tennis shoes instead.

Speed limit signs were ignored as Carole rushed across town, passing from the well-kept and manicured lawns of Kurt's neighborhood, past the middle-class ground of McKinley and Lima Heights, and into the trailer parks, rundown motels, and apartment complexes near the address Carole had been given as she searched for a street sign labeled "Thomas". Carole swerved across the intersection when she finally spotted it, jerking the steering wheel hard to the left. A brief memory of Finn's first driving lesson popped into her head and she corrected her steering. Carole always told her son to never, ever drive like a reckless maniac. To never drive the way she was driving herself right now. Both Burt and Kurt would be furious with her if they knew. But her boys didn't need to know what a bad example she was being right now and she definitely wasn't going to tell them.

Another hard turn into the rainy, cracked, half-flooded parking lot of Forestwood Apartments and Carole was out of the car and sloshing as fast so she could in her heels towards the door of Blaine's apartment.

A slippery combination of broken glass, rain-soaked pavement, and a new pair of heels that Kurt had bought Carole tripped her up and launched her face first into the door of apartment 5C. Her hand smacked against the door as she skidded forward, and instinctively she pushed against it to catch herself, expecting it to support her weight.

It didn't.

The door popped open and she stumbled inside, dripping water all over the carpet and getting her umbrella trapped in the doorway.

God, Carole didn't care if Kurt was in love with this boy. She was going to murder them both for not even bothering to text or call her last night and then, on top of everything, not showing up to school this morning.

Steadying herself and brushing her damp curls off her face, Carole looked up only to find Kurt and Blaine tangled around each other and, as far as she could tell, very naked.

"Oh my god!"

Carole's voice wasn't the only one screeching. Kurt's face was flooding a dark red as he tried to untangle the heap of blankets twisted around their bodies. With a good tug he freed them and drew the blanket up to his chin, looking mortified. Blaine, on the other hand, hadn't moved since he'd twisted his torso around to stare at the door. His bare ass was very much on display as he eyed Carole up and down. Every angry speech and lecture Carole had planned out in her head evaporated.

"Your timing is once again impeccable," Blaine said flatly as he eyed the water sliding off of her coat and dripping onto the carpet. "Do you have a micro-chip under his skin that you use to track him? 'Cause I definitely didn't feel one last night, and my examination was extremely thorough."

A dirty smirk peeled back Blaine's lips as Carole clamped a hand over her eyes. She heard Kurt's hand smack against Blaine and a soft "Ouch" before she shuffled back towards the door.

"I- I brought you a change of clothes. They're in the – in the car," Carole said faintly, dropping her hand to see where she was walking. She kept her eyes trained on the floor as she backed out, trying not to listen to the boys shuffling around on the bed. Carole noticed there were an obscene amount of stains on the carpet as she tried to focus on anything that wasn't Kurt or Blaine. A sharp prod in the middle of Carole's back made her jump and spin around. The umbrella was still lodged in the doorway. She'd completely forgotten about it.

"I'll just... um, let you two– let you g- get dressed while I g- go get it," Carole stuttered. She couldn't remember ever being more embarrassed, which was saying a lot considering she'd been walking in on Finn masturbating every other week for almost five years. Her son had never fully grasped the concept of locking his bedroom door, no matter how many times she told him to.

With a quick twist, the umbrella popped free and Carole closed the door softly before trotting over to her car to get Kurt's clothes. It was only as she pulled the outfit out that she realized Kurt couldn't get dressed until she gave it to him. Still, Carole waited. Huddled under her umbrella next to her open passenger door, she took a quick look around to give the boys a few minutes and to screw her own head back on after the shock.

The little building looked like a good shove would knock it to the ground. Nothing else was in the parking lot except her, her car, and Kurt's Navigator. It wasn't hard to figure out why when icy water started lapping at her toes a moment later.

Carole made a move to start walking back towards Blaine's apartment and merely wobbled on the spot, her feet cemented to the ground. A quick glance down showed Carole that her heels had sunk into a muddy crack in the pavement and water was slowly creeping in past her toes. "This day couldn't possibly get any worse," Carole thought. With a squelchy wrench she freed one of her heels from the muck. She wobbled precariously again, gripped the car frame with her hands and pressed her freed foot against the bottom of the door frame to give herself some balance and leverage to yank the other heel free.

God, she must look ridiculous, standing on the door frame of her tiny car in a half-flooded parking lot with her umbrella whipping about over her head as the wind howled. At least Carole had found something to occupy a few minutes of her time. She debated for a moment on how to get both Kurt's outfit and herself to the safety of the apartment building's crumbling overhang. There was only one solution Carole could think of. She settled down into the passenger seat, settling the umbrella between the car frame and the door and unbuckled her heels before slipping into the dark ankle-high boots she'd brought for Kurt to wear.

The boots were at least four sizes too big, but they kept Carole's feet dry and free from muddy traps as she trekked back over to Blaine's door. This time she kept a sharp eye on her footing as she approached the apartment. Kurt wouldn't take kindly to his boots getting muddy, but there was no way she was face-planting into the door again. Rapping her knuckles loudly on the door, she waited a few seconds before pushing it open a few inches and peering inside.

Blaine was now sprawled out on his stomach, cheek pressed into one of the rumpled pillows, soundly asleep. Kurt had disappeared, presumably into the bathroom. The blankets were still only draped over the curly-haired boy's legs, but he'd at least (probably at Kurt's insistence, Carole thought) put on a pair of boxers. Still, she stood there, rooted to the spot, just taking in the miserable little room Blaine had taken to calling home.

The walls were cracked. The floor was stained. The bed didn't even have a frame. The blankets and sheets looked scratchy and thin, and the little lamp didn't even have a lamp shade.

"It's funny how you just stand there awkwardly when there's nothing important to walk in on," Blaine grumbled against his pillow, and Carole started a bit at the sound of his voice. She could have sworn he'd been asleep. Blaine continued talking as she pushed the door open and shuffled inside, watching him shift a bit and blink one of his eyes open. "But when we're busy getting our mack on you come busting in here like a hurricane."

Carole stood on the threshold as Blaine nuzzled his face into the pillow and, god, her heart just ached at the sight of the poor boy. Her imagination couldn't even stretch far enough to picture her own son or Kurt in his situation. They had and always would have someone to care for them until they were old enough to do it themselves. But Blaine had been dumped off to fend for himself in the worst part of Lima. He was all alone in this world except for Kurt and he seemed reluctant to even let Kurt in. Who would do that to a child - or a grandchild - regardless of the trouble they had caused?

"Shut the damn door," Blaine snapped suddenly, grunting as he turned his head away from her and snuggled into the pillow. "Shove the trunk between the dresser and the door, long way."

Carole couldn't even bring herself to scold him for the swear as she stepped fully into the room. However, the added comment puzzled her for a moment, but she did as Blaine asked. Once the trunk had slid into place she realized the horror and brilliance of the request. It was his lock – a travesty of a lock to stop people from breaking into his room when he was sleeping. Just the sight of it made her heart clench painfully in her chest. The lengths Blaine had to go just to feel remotely safe in his own home felt like a rusty, dull knife had been stabbed into her chest. She had no idea what he did when he wasn't inside the room. It didn't appear as though there was any other option than to just leave the fate of his belongings up to chance.

Swallowing thickly around the lump in her throat, Carole closed her umbrella and hung it on the door handle. She couldn't stop herself from giving the door a quick tug just to ensure that it did stay closed. It opened a few inches, but the trunk and dresser held, smacking up against the floor to ceiling copper pipe and making it rattle.

A sleepy grunt brought Carole's attention back to the bed. This time she was positive that Blaine was asleep. His shoulders were relaxed into the mattress and his jaw was slack, a thin rope of saliva trickling out of his mouth and onto the pillow. Blinking rapidly, Carole shuffled to the opening in the wall, following the sounds of running water that would undoubtedly lead her to Kurt.

Carole knocked softly as the faucet cut off.

"Kurt?" she called, "I've got your clothes."

A sharp hitch of breath was the immediate response to her voice. Through the door, Carole could hear Kurt babbling under his breath. "Oh my god. Just, oh my god. " And then louder in a high-pitched, strangled voice, "Just– leave them on t- the counter, please? I- I need to s- shower to cl– to, um... "

Even if Carole was going to lecture and ground him into the next century, she still felt terrible about all of this. She knew without a doubt she'd have been mortified for weeks if either of her parents had walked in on her the morning after her first time, because she was positive that's what she had walked in on. The humiliation had to be unbearable.

Carole tapped softly on the door again. "Sweetheart, just crack the door open so I can pass them through, okay? I'll wait out here with Blaine while you shower and change."

It took a few moments of patient waiting, but the door popped open a fraction of an inch. A bright blue eye and a completely humiliated strip of Kurt's face was all she could see from inside the dark bathroom. There was some faint light filtering into the bathroom, probably from a tiny window, but otherwise it was almost too dark to see. It didn't make any sense to her why it was so dark, unless Blaine couldn't afford a light for the room, or it wasn't broken and he couldn't fix it. God, she felt terrified for both boys. Wordlessly, Carole passed the hangers and folded socks and underwear through the door to him and headed back out to the main room.

Carole paused next to the copper pipe, trying to decide what to do with herself while she waited. For a moment she debated waking up Blaine, but based on her experience with her own teenage son , Carole knew it wasn't going to get her on Blaine's good side. Even if she did wake him up, she barely knew the boy except passing stories she'd heard from Finn, Kurt, and a few other members of New Directions that hung around the house on the weekends. Instead, Carole slipped her feet out of Kurt's boots and dropped them next to Blaine's trunk, spinning back around to take everything in.

When Kurt had told her about Blaine's living situation, Carole had pictured what she thought was the worst image imaginable. It didn't even begin to measure up to the reality she was now standing in. It was the most depressing little room she'd ever stood in. Carole looked around as she took in what there was to see: a pile of clothes in the corner by the window, a rusty little heating unit that kept sputtering and coughing, some textbooks and notebooks scattered around on the floor, a rickety little night-stand with an alarm clock that didn't appear to work, a bunch of fast food wrappers piled on the dresser, and mini-fridge. No sign of warmth or care or love. It was just a beaten up room devoid of any type of happiness that would never pass any legal building inspection.

Her stomach tangled itself up tighter and tighter the longer Carole looked, and she suddenly had the urge to move. The clutter on the dresser caught the focus of Carole's attention. She slowly started gathering all the trash up in her arms, taking her time and making sure she didn't miss anything. When the dresser was cleared and her arms were filled to burst, Carole twisted around a bit to look for the trash can and spotted it in the far corner. Carole dumped the trash in and was just turning away when something that had missed the bin caught her eye.

A used condom. Carole's stomach churned at the sight and her face heated up. Then she quickly decided that this best left for Blaine or Kurt to clean up. They were being responsible, though. Carole was both thankful that they were and nervous that they'd already reached that point in their relationship. Both Kurt and Blaine were incredibly intelligent and if they thought they were ready for this stage then she would trust their judgement. It was more than she could say for Finn. Carole still didn't think he understood most of the pregnancy fiasco from last year no matter how many times she explained things.

She cleared off the trash around the mini-fridge next, and without anything else to do, turned back to the bed and night-stand. After a moment's hesitation, Carole cleared the box of condoms and lube off the night-stand and tossed them back into the open drawer. As glad as she was that they were being safe she really didn't want to see or think about their... escapades.

On the bed, Blaine whimpered in his sleep, eyebrows drawing together and his body tensing slightly. Surprised by the noise, Carole watched as his arm started groping around the bed. She had no idea what he was searching for until his hand found the second pillow and clutched desperately at it. Blaine wiggled closer to it, hugging it to his chest and pressing his face against the fabric. He breathed in deeply, and something about the scent relaxed him. The tension flowed out of his shoulders, and with a contented sigh his body relaxing into the mattress again.

"Mmm, Kurt... " he hummed softly. The little smile that turned up the corner of Blaine's mouth made her want to cry. He'd only ever been rude and mean in her presence, but Carole had trusted Kurt's judgement and she hadn't been wrong. There was a sweet boy – man, she corrected herself quietly, no boy could survive on his own the way he did – hidden in there somewhere. And if Kurt had found him, Carole only hoped she could do the same.

Blaine shivered a little in his sleep and on instinct Carole settled onto the edge of the bed and gently pulled the blanket up around his shoulders. It just broke her heart to see this. Blaine reminded her so much of Finn in a way, lying there hugging a pillow to his chest, clad in a pair of Ninja Turtle boxers, his room left a mess in typical teenage boy fashion. Blaine was someone's child, someone's baby. Carole just knew that his mother would have been hysterical if she could she what his life had become; she'd blame herself for something that wasn't her fault.

Carole sniffled a bit, and brushed a stray, unruly curl off his forehead, stroking the back of her fingers softly over his scratchy cheek. When Blaine turned his cheek and nuzzled against her touch, Carole didn't even try to stop the few stray tears that leaked out of her eyes.

God, Blaine deserved so much more, so much better. A chance to make more than an endless circle of repeated mistakes. She was so glad Kurt hadn't given up on Blaine; had stayed around because he had seen something worthwhile. Just one glance at how Blaine could be with Kurt if given the chance told Carole he was worth the effort.

Behind her the bathroom door creaked open. Carole felt Kurt limp up behind her before she heard him. For now, she would let Blaine sleep. It was back into mom mode to deal with a disobedient teenager.

"He's so peaceful when he's asleep," Kurt said softly as Carole stood up to face him, then he gulped audibly at the stern look on her face.

"Kurt," Carole began, trying to remember all the lectures she planned out over the course of her morning. In light of Blaine's apartment she'd forgotten most of what she had wanted to say before she told Kurt he was grounded. "I know you have a lot on your plate right now. I know that. But do you have any idea how worried I have been?"

"I- I have no excuse, Carole," Kurt said weakly. "I just... I got here and got my phone – I was going to call but, then..."

Just from his broken speech, Carole gathered that there was something important she was missing. There was something that had happened when Kurt had gotten here that had driven a simple text to let her know his whereabouts completely from his mind. She guided him over to the trunk, slightly worried by the way he was limping, and made him sit down with her on it. Kurt winced as he gingerly sat down next to her.

Was it normal to be so sore after? Carole couldn't even think about it without blushing to the roots of her hair.

"Explain, please," Carole requested softly. She would be fair and give Kurt a chance to explain himself at the very least. Then she would decide the extent of his grounding and punishment.

For the next ten minutes, Carole listened to Kurt's story starting from when he'd left last night and they'd encountered a group of menacing homophobes right up until he'd realized it was Blaine's birthday and that the boy was planning on celebrating it alone. The knife in Carole's chest twisted painfully at Kurt's words. She was so glad Blaine had walked him out and that the police had been cruising past. Who knew what would have happened otherwise.

"I'm sorry I didn't call or text or let you know I was staying. I got here and realized why he'd wanted me to stay so badly and I just... "Kurt broke off, sniffling and brushing a tear from his eye. "Nobody should have to celebrate their birthday alone, Carole. I hate him sometimes but he just... Blaine means so much to me now." Kurt's eyes drifted over to the boy curled up on the bed. A fond, glowing smile turned up his lips. "I don't know how I'd get through my dad being in the hospital if I didn't have him."

Yes, Kurt was falling hard – if he hadn't already completely fallen in love. Carole followed his line of sight, watching as Blaine shifted a bit in his sleep and hugged the pillow tighter. Kurt wasn't the only one falling if Blaine's grip on that pillow meant anything.She put an arm around Kurt's shoulders and pulled him into her arms.

"I know, sweetheart." Carole pressed a soft kiss against his hair. "But you're still grounded for the next week."

Kurt pulled away immediately, looking shocked. "B- but... I know I was stupid, but it's not like I've missed school or some – "

"Actually," Carole cut him off with a very pointed look, "it's almost ten o'clock. So between that and the grief you caused me, you're grounded."

"It's– oh my god. I have a French test today!" Kurt wailed in alarm, his eyes huge as he made to stand only to stumble and gasp in pain. He rubbed slowly at his lower back as Carole reached out to steady him.

"Are you okay?" Carole asked worriedly, "is it... normal to be this sore... ?"

Kurt's face reddened until he glowed brighter than the setting sun. "It is the um,... t- the f- first time. Once you g- get used to it then it d- doesn't, I think... "

Carole nodded slowly, her own face reddening as she stood, and helped Kurt walk stiffly over to the bed. He dropped down next to Blaine's knees.

"I'll wake him up so we can get to class," Kurt told her. "Could you pick out some clothes for him? They're in the trunk."

Carole nodded and shuffled over to the door, popped open the trunk and pulled out the only shirt and pair of jeans left in there. The clothes in the corner must be dirty she realized as she returned to the bed. How and where Blaine managed to do his laundry was a mystery to her, because she couldn't picture him trotting down the street to the Laundromat with a cute little basket and box of fabric softener.

Kurt shook Blaine gently as she dropped the clothes onto the foot of the bed.

"Blaine. Blaine, wake up. We're late for school, baby."

The term of endearment made Carole's heart give a funny twang in her chest. She'd heard Blaine use the word during their very brief encounters, but it had seemed to be more of a nuance to Kurt – a persistent and successful attempt to annoy him – rather than something affectionate.

Kurt shook the sleeping boy more roughly when he got no response. Blaine grumbled in annoyance and swatted at him before rolling, face first, into the pillow. Kurt inhaled sharply next to her, and for a moment Carole didn't understand why until she looked at Blaine's back. The first thing she noticed was two sets of four parallel half-moon shaped marks, one on the back of each shoulder. Embarrassed at the thought of how he'd gotten those she looked down his back and realized with a thrill of horror that those marks weren't the reason Kurt had made that noise. An angry, red scar followed the curve of Blaine's ribs, stopping about three inches from his spine.

"I've never seen that before," Kurt whispered. One of his hands reached out to touch it but stopped several inches away from Blaine's skin, hanging in the air uncertainly.

Carole looked more closely at it and said in what she hoped was a reassuring voice, "It's a surgical scar by the looks of it. A few years old, at least, judging by how smooth it looks. Sometimes they just... heal like that."

Kurt nodded slowly, but the calculating look in his eyes told Carole he was piecing something together from whatever Blaine had told him.

"I never really see his– see his back when he's shirtless," Kurt mumbled, dropping his hand to run along Blaine's side, brushing the scar hesitantly. "It's smooth," he informed her. "No wonder I never felt it."

His fingers traced over the scar more firmly this time and Blaine bolted up, grabbed the first part of Kurt that he could reach and roughly yanking him forward by the shirt front, fist raised. Carole jumped at the violent reaction, gasping loudly, and Blaine's sleep-crusted eyes darted to her. Something about the sight seemed to bring him back to reality. Blaine blinked slowly, and looked back at Kurt's frightened face. When Blaine realized who he was gripping so tightly, he let go as though he'd been stung.

Blaine dropped a hand to his side, tracing his fingers over the scar. He flinched and something dark flickered in his eyes. Carole stiffened at the sight. It had only taken a split second for the peaceful boy to disappear.

"Don't – just, don't touch that," Blaine spat angrily, throwing the blanket off himself. Kurt stiffened even more at his tone, but didn't speak as Blaine swung his legs over the side of the bed.

"I'm sorry," Kurt said softly, but something about his tone still gave away the stiffness in his posture. Blaine glanced up and as soon as he saw Kurt's tight expression the anger fell away.

"No, you didn't– you don't..." Blaine scooted closer to him and dipped his head until their foreheads were pressed together. "I'm sorry." Blaine murmured, cupping Kurt's face in his hands.

It wasn't hard for Carole to realize they'd completely forgotten that she was sitting right next to them as Kurt tilted his head and slanted his lips over Blaine's. "Boys," Carole called, clearing her throat loudly to grab their attention. They broke apart gradually, hazel-green eyes and bright blue ones blinking open, and staring deeply into one another. The little smiles that broke across their faces made Carole's heart melt right down into her toes.

"Come on, Blaine." Kurt stretched across the bed to grab the clean clothes to hand to Blaine. "We're late for sch– "

"What you do boys say to a late breakfast instead?" Carole asked suddenly. Kurt needed a day off. He hadn't miss more than a few hours since Burt had fallen into his coma. He needed a break for a little while. What better time than now? They could even give Blaine a proper birthday celebration for a change.

Kurt turned sharply to look at her with big hopeful eyes. Blaine's expression was instantly guarded as his eyes flickered to her.

"Really? Can we go to that little restaurant by the mall? You'll love their– "Kurt's rambling came to a halt when he turned to grin brightly at Blaine. His grin shrunk and the happiness that was becoming more and more rare for Carole to see flickered out.

"Can you– are you allowed to go that far?" Kurt asked quietly, and Carole dropped her gaze to the ankle monitor fastened around Blaine's calf.

"Yeah, I can make it to the mall," Blaine said quickly, shaking his foot like a dog with a wet paw. He avoided looking up and meeting their eyes. "But, I can't um,... I don't have the... "

Money. Blaine thought he was expected to pay his way.

"It's my treat," Carole said kindly, "consider it my birthday present to you, Blaine."

Blaine turned sharply to Kurt, the smallest trace of fury flashing across his face."You– you told– "

Kurt just rolled his eyes. "Well, I had to give her some concrete explanation for why I came over to get my phone and ended up in your bed, didn't I?"

Without waiting for Blaine to make a snappy comeback, Kurt turned to Carole. "Can we go by the mall, too? I want to get Blaine some new clothes for his birthday."

"You what?" Blaine said, completely flabbergasted by the sudden bombardment of gifts being thrown at him so soon after he'd woken up.

Carole smiled at his bafflement and listened to the two of them bicker like an old married couple. She loved the joy and wonder that crept into both boys eyes as they looked at each other. It was so refreshing to see Kurt so happy, and to see that Blaine wasn't the jerk he made himself out to be.

"Do you really expect to survive winter with only a few ratty short- sleeve shirts, Blaine?"

"Well, you'll have to forgive me for not having knee- length sweaters in my wardrobe rotation – "

Carole yanked the clothes out of Kurt's hands and passed them to Blaine. "Why don't you go take a shower, sweetheart? We'll wait out here for you."

It didn't escape Carole's notice that Blaine flinched violently at the pet name and she regretted the word choice immediately. Blaine bit his lip, eyeing her cautiously as Kurt pressed a gentle kiss to his cheek and said, "Hurry up, Blaine. I've got so many outfit ideas for you. We need to get that done before the mall closes– "

"It doesn't close for another twelve hours. At least!" Blaine said in alarm, turning his wary gaze away from Carole and eyeing Kurt incredulously.

"Exactly," Kurt huffed. "That's barely enough time for shopping. Go. Shower. Quickly." Kurt snapped his fingers in Blaine's face, impatient in his excitement. Blaine glared at him, but stood and headed into the bathroom. They sat in silence while they waited. The shower stopped just as the alarm clock went off. Kurt and Carole both jumped and turned to the blinking electronic.

"Oh, good," Kurt said, "the power's back." That explained why the bathroom had been so dark. Kurt went about setting the correct time on the display until Blaine emerged, hair damp, but he was much more awake. Blaine shrugged on his leather jacket and Kurt toed on his boots. It was then that Carole realized her own shoes we're in the car.

"Here," Blaine said awkwardly before she could say something, tossing her a pair of beat up converse high-tops. "They'll probably be too big, but... "

Carole smiled at the unexpected gesture and tugged them on with a quick "thank you" as she smiled at the new piece of knowledge showing Blaine was not only perceptive but actually caring if he wanted to be, even if he probably still had to get used to it. Like Kurt's boots, they were a good four sizes too big, but they kept her feet dry in the flooded parking lot. "At least it stopped raining," Carole said. After a quick switch of shoes they pulled out of the parking lot. It felt almost normal to Carole. She turned on the radio and caught a glimpse of Kurt and Blaine snuggled up in the backseat, sharing a soft, murmured conversation.

Yes, Carole decided, even Burt couldn't object to how happy Kurt was in that moment, no matter who happened to be the cause of it.

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Kurt could not believe how much Blaine could eat. It was a good thing Blaine had opted for the breakfast buffet the restaurant had, or else the bill would have emptied out Carole's wallet. He stopped count of the number of Belgium waffles Blaine packed away at eight and the three plates of scrambled eggs, the two bowls of grapes and orange slices, and the mountain of bacon. Judging by the expression on Carole's face, she was just as amazed as Kurt. Considering how much her son ate at any given moment, Kurt knew he should be beyond impressed at Blaine's appetite if Carole was amazed.

But it was hard to be impressed or focused on anything, when the arm not shoveling food into Blaine's mouth was wound around Kurt's waist. Blaine hadn't left Kurt's side since they'd exited his apartment. He'd been right next to him, a steadying arm around Kurt's waist as he struggled to learn how to walk through the burn flaring up the crevice of his ass to his lower back. Carole had noticed the attention as well, though she hadn't commented on it. She flashed him a small, knowing smile throughout their meal and then every now and again at the mall when Blaine would make some simple, sweet gesture.

Kurt had never thought Blaine to be the attentive type, but he'd also never thought he'd be falling in love with him either. He knew Blaine shared his feelings on some level. It was the only reason he could think of for why Blaine was putting up with trying on the most ridiculous outfits and hats and shoes. Blaine grumbled and made a show of looking annoyed, but the sparkle in his eyes was unmistakable. He was happy. He was actually having fun, which was something Kurt didn't think he'd ever seen Blaine have before. He'd give anything for Blaine's life to always be this simple. The other boy needed this normalcy in his life if they were ever going to stand a chance together. He needed something concrete and warm and solid – he needed people around him who supported him. Kurt only hoped his own jumbled one would be good enough, and that his father, if he ever woke up, would give Blaine a second chance.

"No– no, Kurt. That hat looks ridic– "

Kurt yanked Blaine into his arms, while Carole laughed from her seat next to the dressing room door, and stuffed a big feathery hat onto his curly head.

"Look," Kurt giggled, frog-marching Blaine over to the full-length mirror, "It matches your eyes."

"I look like a peacock," Blaine said flatly, glaring at his reflection as Kurt tucked his chin over Blaine's shoulder and settled his hands on Blaine's hips.

"You'd make a very handsome peacock," Kurt said slyly. "All the dreary, dull female peacocks won't be able to keep their beaks off of you."

"They will if they know what's good for them," Blaine muttered, raising an eyebrow and smirking at Kurt's reflection. "I like my significant others well- equipped, Hummel."

Blaine arched his ass against Kurt, and gave Kurt's reflection a flirtatious wink. Carole cleared her throat behind them, and Kurt felt his face heat up a bit. It was so easy to forget that Carole was in the room when he was wrapped up in Blaine. Blaine twisted in his arms and dropped the hat to the floor, completely unfazed by Carole's pointed interruption. He pulled Kurt close and pressed their lips together, humming softly when Kurt's lips responded to the insistent press of his.

"I love the way you taste, baby," Blaine mumbled against his lips, slipping his hands into the back pockets of Kurt's jeans.

"Excuse me, are you guys finished in here yet?"

One of the store's employee's had appeared in the doorway, glaring at the two boys in each other's arms and Carole seated next to them.

Kurt pursed his lips and bristled at the man's obvious disgust at their affection, but nodded anyway.

"Yes, we'll take those shirts," Kurt told him, gesturing to a handful of long- sleeve, thermal shirts, and a couple of button- ups. They weren't much by Kurt's standards, but Blaine had refused to let him buy more even though he wanted to buy Blaine an entire wardrobe. "And this belt," Kurt added, unbuckling the belt holding Blaine's jeans up and tugging it out of the belt loops.

The store attendant gave them a haughty, disdainful look as he flounced over and gathered up the shirts and belt.

"Jackass," Blaine sneered, doing nothing to keep his voice down as the man headed out to go ring them up. A fierce glare was directed at him, before the attendant disappeared around the doorway.

"Blaine," Carole scolded, standing up and shouldering her purse and a few of their shopping bags. Now that Kurt thought about it, he should have realized how inevitable it would be for him and Carole to both end up with several new outfits as well.

"Oh, did I say the truth out loud?" Blaine said sarcastically, as Kurt grabbed up his own bags and led the up front to the registers.

It was mid-afternoon by the time they piled back into Carole's car and headed for Blaine's apartment. Kurt curled up with Blaine in the backseat for the short drive, taking comfort in the boy's warmth. As soon as Carole and him dropped Blaine off they would be headed to the hospital to visit his father and wait for Finn to meet them after his football game. Kurt hated that he was starting to hate going there. After a solid week of no response and not even a fluctuation in his father's condition, it was more and more disheartening to sit there every evening, when Kurt began to realize that things weren't going to change.

When they pulled into the parking lot, Carole gasped in shock from the front seat. Alarmed, Kurt pulled himself out of Blaine's arms and unbuckled himself as Carole pulled to a stop in front of Blaine's door. Only the door wasn't closed like they had left it – it was thrown wide open and what looked like half a box of cereal had been dumped across the threshold. He felt Blaine stiffen beside him and unbuckle his own seatbelt.

Before Kurt had said a word, Blaine was out of the car and pulling his pocketknife from his pocket as he approached his room.

Carole pressed her hand over her mouth as she watched him walk inside. "Has this ever– "

"No," Kurt told her, opening his door and following Blaine inside. The first thing he saw made his heart split in two. "FAGGOT" was scrawled across the wall above the bed, in giant red letters. Kurt flinched, anger flaring up in the pit of his stomach, as Blaine re-appeared from the bathroom stuffing his pocket knife back into his pocket.

Pure fury was etched into every line of Blaine's face as he took in all of the destruction to his home. His trunk had been smashed, the contents of it torn and scattered around the room. The pile of dirty clothes had been shredded and tossed all over the place. The dresser drawers had been yanked free and thrown around the room. The food inside of them littered the ground and the bed, which was been partially dismantled, the mattress hanging off of the box spring and the blankets ripped and covered in what appeared to be the rest of the lube bottle's contents. Fluffs of cotton were mixed in with the food, some of it still drifting lazily in the air from the destroyed pillows. The mini-fridge have been toppled over on top of the acoustic guitar, its door swinging about listlessly as a few more soda cans rolled out and onto the floor. The shattered light bulb emitted a loud popping noise from where the lamp had fallen to the ground. Giant water spots marked the walls where condoms, probably filled with water, had exploded against them. Even the curtains had been torn down, though they seemed to be missing for whatever reason.

Kurt's brain couldn't keep up with what his eyes were telling him. This had to be a nightmare. People didn't just run around and destroy someone's home for no good reason. But as Kurt's eyes came back around to the word spray painted over the bed, he knew he was ignorantly lying to himself. He'd met the exact kind of people who did this type of thing just last night. Behind him, he was vaguely aware of Carole entering the room and gasping in horror, but in front of him, Blaine had kneeled down and picked something up.

When Blaine stood back up, the torn photograph in his hand was trembling, but the look on Blaine's face made Kurt feel as though his own heart had been ripped from his chest. He inched closer to Blaine, catching sight of the old photograph. It had been ripped right through Blaine's curls, separating his mother's smiling face from his own. Something tight clenched around Kurt's chest. He felt like he was suffocating.

"Blaine... we- we can m- mend it or tape it or– "

"Get out."

Blaine's hand was still shaking, but his voice was more steady and controlled than Kurt had ever heard it.

"No," Kurt said firmly, fighting back the tears welling up in his eyes and reaching out for Blaine's hand.

It was yanked away before he'd even touched it. The constriction in his chest pulled tighter as Blaine finally looked up at him. The look on Blaine's face spoke volumes to Kurt. He wasn't ready for this. Neither of them were ready for it. It was only when they'd met each other that they'd finally opened themselves up to the possibility of feeling something deeper, something worthwhile.Kurt had had no idea how much this was going to hurt, and if he wasn't the slightest bit prepared for this then it must have run Blaine over like a freight train. Blaine had shut himself off for years, and now he was being overloaded to the point of drowning.

"Get the fuck out," Blaine demanded harshly, throwing the photograph over Kurt's shoulder and dragging his hands through his curls. Carole ducked down and scooped it up behind him.

"No. Don't you dare shut me out, Blaine Anderson– "

"I'll do whatever the fuck I want!" Blaine roared, slamming his fist down onto the dresser so hard one of the half- broken legs fell away completely, sending the dresser lurching forward and the cracked phone clattering to the floor. "God, I was so stupid. So fucking stupid to think that this– that you a- and me..."

"Let's just clean this up and we'll figure something out– "

"Don't tell me what we're going to do, Hummel. We aren't doing shit," Blaine sneered, turning his hateful glare onto Kurt.

Kurt had never been punched in the gut repeatedly until he couldn't breathe, but he imagined it felt something like this. A single tear slipped out of his eye and before he knew it he was crying. Carole was frozen behind him, still horrified by Blaine's room and what he was now saying. It felt like his entire world was crumbling down on top of him all over again.

"Don't... Blaine, baby, don't shut me out," Kurt hated how desperate he sounded; hated how much he needed Blaine in that moment. If he lost Blaine, if this was it...

"Why the hell shouldn't it?" Blaine spat furiously, "What the hell has feeling things ever done for me?"

Blaine turned to look at the angry red letters glaring down at them from the wall.

"This isn't your little fantasy world where we live happily ever after or some other bullshit, "Blaine snapped. "This is reality. This is what happens to guys like us." He pointed towards the wall, and demanded, "Look at that. You see that, Hummel? That's how the world is. That's all you and I will ever be. If the world's just going to beat me down and obliterate any happiness I can get, then why the hell should I be any different?"

"Because there are people that make the pain worth it," Kurt said, grabbing Blaine's arm and holding on tightly. He pressed Blaine's palm to his chest. "This is worth it. You are worth it."

But Blaine only shook his head slightly, and Kurt knew he was already too far gone, had already retreated back into his cocoon of pessimism and hopelessness.

"Nothing is worth it," Blaine said quietly as he shoved Kurt off of him. "No matter what, the people who say they'll always be there aren't."

When Blaine faced him again, his eyes were more dead and hollow than Kurt had ever seen them. The freight train that had plowed over Blaine had reached its final destination, slamming home into Kurt's chest.

"Now, get out so I can unclog the curtains in my toilet in peace," Blaine growled, shoving away Kurt's arm when he tried to pull Blaine against him. He pushed Kurt towards the doorway and Kurt stumbled backwards into Carole's arms. Tears were pouring down his cheeks as Carole half-dragged him from the room. The door was slammed soundly shut behind them.

Carole ushered him to the passenger seat of her car and locked him in. He drew his knees up to his chest, no longer able to stop the gut-wrenching sobs from exploding out of him.

"Oh, sweetheart."

Warm arms circled around Kurt, but they weren't the arms he wanted to hold him right now. He wanted Blaine wrapped around him, and himself wrapped around Blaine, sharing all the love and comfort they had to give each other. Carole was familiar and warm against him, but she didn't sooth his soul the way Blaine did. She didn't smell like peppermint and cigarettes or make his feel at peace all the way to the tips of his toes and fingers.

From the depths of Carole's pocket, something started ringing out a loud, cheerful tune. Sniffling, Carole pulled back a bit and dug out her phone.

"H- hello?"

He felt Carole shift away a little more as she wiped her nose on her sleeve. Apparently, he wasn't the only one crying. He sat there and shook as more tears sprang to his eyes, not caring who Carole was talking to or why. He just wanted to knock Blaine's door down and gather him up in his arms and never let go.

Carole's phone snapped shut next to him and he startled at the noise, glancing up through his tears to see her giving him a watery smile. What the hell was there to smile about when everything he'd ever wanted or needed had been snatched away from him in just a week? First his father, and now Blaine...

"Good news," Carole said gently, brushing away some of his tears with the pad of her thumb. "Your dad's awake."