Carole pulled her car into the muddy parking lot of Forestwood Apartments. She zigzagged a bit to avoid the numerous potholes and pulled into the open spot in front of Blaine's door. Finn yawned loudly in the seat next to her and kept drumming on his thighs, his sleepy gaze shifting around to take in the rundown building.

"He lives here?"

Carole nodded as she turned the engine off and stuffed her keys into her purse. "Yes," she replied quietly, "isn't a very nice place, is it?"

Finn shook his head, and blinked a few times as he stared at the big window connected to Blaine's room. Carole opened her door and got out, pulling open the back door and grabbing everything she'd brought for Blaine today. She passed the six containers of food to Finn, pulled out the shopping bag from Friday afternoon, and the sneakers Blaine had let her borrow. It was still rather early for a Sunday, especially by Finn's standards, but she'd insisted on stopping by again just to see Blaine and make sure he was still fine. Jim had called last night to let them know he was on patrol again overnight, but she had still worried. Just because Blaine's apartment was safe didn't mean Blaine wouldn't go looking for trouble.

"I still don't see why I had to come with you. He's Kurt's boyfriend," Finn grumbled as they approached the door.

She realized Finn had a point. The only reason she'd suffered through forcing Finn awake at eight was to give her an extra set of hands and so that he could drive her car back while she took Kurt's Navigator back to the Hummels house. Kurt had been in no condition to drive it himself on Friday and as much as she knew Kurt wanted to see Blaine she didn't think it was a good idea just yet. Especially if they were ever going to get Blaine away from this place. He had to trust all of them, or at least her, and not just Kurt if this was ever going to work.

"Because Kurt's technically grounded," Carole told him. She didn't bother adding her thoughts of keeping the two boys apart for a few days. If she'd let Kurt come over like he'd wanted to Blaine probably would have exploded again. Kurt would push him to open up like she'd started to do yesterday and he'd get mad again. Carole could handle the rejection, but Kurt was still a wreck from Friday afternoon. He'd been hurt enough over the past few weeks and maybe a few days without Kurt around would soften Blaine up for when they finally saw each other again at school tomorrow. At least that's what she was hoping for, because the only way Blaine was going to open up again was on his own terms, that much was clear.

"I know, but still... "Finn grumbled, shuffling the containers in his arms as they stopped in front of the door.

Carole turned to him before she knocked, and bit her lip. She knew Finn and Blaine went to school together, but she didn't know if they had ever interacted or how Blaine would respond to him being with her. At the same time she knew that if she convinced Blaine to live with her, Finn and Blaine would be around each other a lot, and it was best if they get more comfortable with the other's presence now. Nevertheless, she was still worried that Finn's presence might make Blaine shut down even more. Then they may never get him out of here.

"Just, Finn. Please, please, be nice and don't mention Kurt or– or anything. I don't know how upset he still is about all of this," Carole pleaded, cupping his cheek so that he faced her. His eyes widened slightly in alarm at her serious tone, but Finn nodded at her and glanced at the comics taped to the window.

"Why's he torn up all these awesome comics? That panel – "Finn tilted his head towards the comic taped over the top left corner "is from one of the original Batman comics. It's, like, the best thing ever."

"He didn't tear them up, sweetheart. The guys who broke in did that. He just taped them over the window for some privacy."

"Dude, but that's an original print! That's just– they can't just– "

"Finn, please, there are more important things right now than a bunch of comic books, okay?"

"Right, sure," Finn said vaguely, still staring confusedly at the ripped up comics books plastered over the glass.

Carole rolled her eyes at Finn's lack of focus, but maybe Blaine wouldn't mind talking comic books with him. At least then Finn wouldn't mention anything he shouldn't, and it might lay some groundwork between them. She tapped her knuckles against the door and pushed it open a few inches to peer inside.

"Blaine? It's Carole."

When Blaine didn't answer she pushed the door open a few more inches, thinking maybe he wasn't there and that her and Finn would have to wait. But the sunlight trickled in over her head and fell onto the bed where Blaine was curled up under one of the torn red curtains with Kurt's pillow hugged to his chest. His face scrunched up as the sunlight hit him and he grumbled and rolled over, dragging the pillow with him and burying his face into it.

Carole sighed with relief as she briefly glimpsed his face and bare upper body. No bruises or cuts or anything were visible that made her think he'd run into those jerks. She had hoped he would be awake and would let her in at some point to talk, but just seeing that Blaine was physically okay eased the ache that she felt in her chest whenever she saw him. A shadow fell over her and the sunlight was blocked from the room. Finn's hand gripped onto her shoulder and squeezed gently.

"It's gonna be okay, Mom. Between you and Kurt nothing's impossible."

She reached up and clasped her hand over her son's, even as her lip trembled a little. Finn leaned over her and looked inside. His hand tightened on her shoulder.

"Why's that written o- on his wall?" Finn whispered in horror.

Carole glanced at the bright red letters spray painted on the wall, too. "They didn't just destroy his comic books, Finn," Carole said softly.

Finn said nothing for a few moments and Carole just gazed into the room at Blaine curled up on the bed. She really hated the thought of waking him up when he'd probably just gone to sleep. With how tightly he was gripping Kurt's pillow it wouldn't have surprised her if he thought the pillow was Kurt. Just the thought of breaking him away from some happy dream made her chest ache even more.

"He's such a tiny dude," Finn said behind her. "I can't believe he can bench as much as me. He's like muscle, skin, and bones."

Carole finally turned her eyes away from Blaine's sleeping form and looked at Finn curiously. She had no idea what her son was talking about. Blaine wasn't on the football team. He couldn't afford the costs every member of the team had to pay to the football program.

"He's in my weight lifting class, "Finn clarified with a small shrug. "Benches as much as any of the guys on the football team, but I swear he's smaller than Kurt."

She turned back to the opening and looked at Blaine, taking in his broad shoulders and how thin his waist and chest were. He was certainly muscular, but very lean and so thin from not eating enough for however long that she could see his ribs where his skin was stretched taut. Perhaps she should have brought a dozen containers with her. He ate as much as Finn, maybe even more...

"He's a lot stronger than he looks, "Carole remarked. "A lot stronger than even he knows, I think."

"Are we gonna wake him up?" Finn asked her. "He looks like he could use the sleep."

"No," Carole said regrettably. She knew Finn was right. He looked exhausted and had undoubtedly been up all night worried about someone breaking through the boards he set up behind the door. For now it was just enough to know he was still okay. She'd get Kurt to text her in the morning to make sure Blaine showed up for school and was still physically fine. His emotional state would be another thing entirely once he let them back in.

With Finn's help she wedged the door open enough to pass the shopping bag, shoes, and half dozen food containers inside before sending Finn on his way with Kurt's Navigator. She dug through her glove box for a napkin and pulled a pen out of her purse to write Blaine a quick note, letting him know she'd been by and would return tomorrow afternoon. She passed the note back through the door, dropping it down on top of the stack of food containers, and stopped for one last look at Blaine. His brow was furrowed and he'd shifted away from the pillow while she'd been in the car. He fidgeted a bit and groaned in his sleep, finally rolling over, latching onto Kurt's pillow, and quieting.

She couldn't see his face, but she knew Blaine was smiling against the soft fabric. Somehow, everything was going to be all right. There was something unfathomably powerful that had brought Kurt and Blaine together, something that went beyond love and affection and friendship. It was the key to helping Blaine get his life back and making these boys happy again. She'd come back every day until he trusted her enough to see it, too.

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Blaine woke from another nightmare with a yelp, his arms wrapped tightly around the pillow he'd been hugging to his chest. His heart was pounding and his chest was heaving as he pulled the pillow as close as he physically could. For a moment, he was almost able to convince himself that it was Kurt he was holding. The scent of vanilla and jasmine, and the soft warmth. But then the fantasy broke. Kurt's skin was soft, but it didn't cave to his touch. It wasn't slightly rough against his sweaty flesh. There was muscle and much more warmth enveloping him when him and Kurt were curled up together.

He blinked his eyes open and his vision was filled with red.

Kurt's pillow – the only comfort his room had to offer anymore.

He'd regretted getting so angry at it by the time he'd gotten back from his short shopping trip yesterday. The walk to the convenience store had cleared his head and helped him calm down, but he still hadn't known what to do with the thing until he'd pulled it close after sunset. He'd buried his face in it and hadn't been able to let go all night while he waited until sunrise to attempt to sleep.

A chilly blast of air rattled the door open a few inches. Blaine shuddered and tugged the curtain up around his shoulders. It was a million times colder without Kurt's warm body to tangle himself around. God, why did he feel worse whenever he thought about Kurt? Shouldn't he feel better without him here to remind him how to feel?

He climbed off the bed and almost tripped over the pile off stuff next to the door when he went to shut it. He bent down next to the mountain of Tupperware containers and the shopping bag and tugged the little napkin off the top. It was a short note from Carole telling him she'd been by and would return. He paused at the end where Carole had signed her name. With love.

He gulped audibly and stared at it as Kurt's face flashed though his mind. Fuck, his entire body just ached at the thought of Kurt. It terrified him more than the way his heart swelled at the pile next to his door. He had no idea what to do anymore. Without Kurt around everything felt like it was crashing down on top of him, and when he had been here he just wanted to shove him out and get him away from all of this before it got any worse. Before the cops checked in or caught him and took him back to juvie because he was living alone.

He dug through the shopping bag and pulled out a pair of dark jeans and a dark thermal shirt and shuffled off to the shower. Maybe if he made the water cold enough the numbness would seep into his brain and heart and make everything stop hurting.

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Blaine arrived at McKinley early on Monday morning. He almost hadn't gone to school today, but hadn't been able to stand sitting in his apartment any longer. Once again he'd been up all night guarding the door and waiting for whatever might happen, but nothing had. He passed through the side doors of the building and slunk down the hall to his locker. Half of him was dreading tonight and the other half was just glad that he could sleep in class without having to worry about waking up in the middle of a beating. He fumbled with the lock on his locker for several minutes, his hand unsteady as he tried to pick it. He closed his eyes for a moment and tried to shove down his exhaustion. Ten minutes and he'd be in class and he could sleep and forget everything...

A pale hand closed over his own as his fingers slipped again. He breathed in sharply and shut his eyes as Kurt's strong fingers steadied him. God, he'd missed that touch so much. Had missed the warmth and assurance of Kurt's presence next to him.

He opened his eyes and looked over at Kurt standing next to him. Kurt's hand guided his own back towards the lock as he looked into Kurt's eyes.

"You really should just use the combination," Kurt said softly, as Blaine twisted his wrist and the locker popped open.

Blaine just shrugged as he reached in and grabbed a few books. He didn't trust himself to speak, now that he was face to face with Kurt. He'd thought Kurt would be mad at him after Friday, but if anything he just seemed more determined to be by his side. What the hell was he supposed to say after Friday afternoon? He'd been terrible to Kurt, and, for whatever reason, Kurt didn't seem to care.

"You look exhausted," Kurt whispered, brushing his fingers through the curls on the side of Blaine's head. Blaine jerked away on instinct. God, it was too much. He was already overloaded and exhausted from everything he was feeling. There was no way he could add anything more to that without collapsing.

"Don't," he demanded sharply, his voice raspy and cracking. "Just, please, don't. I- I can't– "

Kurt's hand retracted at warp speed, or maybe it just seemed that way because everything was hazy and fuzzy because he was so tired. Kurt leaned against the locker bay and hugged his books to his chest as Blaine closed his locker. The loud clicks of it snapping shut reverberated in his skull like claps of thunder. He groaned softly and started to walk away. Maybe he'd just skip today. It's not like he ever learned anything new anyway...

Kurt's hand latched onto his shoulder and stopped him from walking away. He really didn't have the strength to fight him off at the moment.

"Are you sure you're okay, Blaine?" The worry in Kurt's voice just made him feel worse, but somehow he still felt better than when Kurt wasn't there at all.

"I'm fine," Blaine hissed. It came out harsher than he'd meant it, but, god, he was tired. He just wanted to sleep and make his head stop pounding.

Kurt's hand disappear again, and the sudden lack of warmth on his shoulder made his throat tight.

"I'll always be here for you, Blaine. I don't care how long it takes. Whenever you're ready, I'll be here."

Kurt didn't wait for his reply, he cupped Blaine's cheek and then walked off towards their first period classroom. Blaine watched him disappear through the doorway and leaned back against the wall of lockers. He couldn't handle this. He couldn't make the pain or the hurt or the love that was swirling through him stop. He didn't know how to make it stop. The only thing he knew was that he felt hollow and empty without Kurt by his side.

Blaine didn't remember most of the day. He slept through every class, and probably wouldn't have even moved from his chair in first period if Kurt hadn't been there to wake him up. At lunch he went to the gymnasium and curled up under the bleachers and ended up sleeping straight through his weight lifting class. It was only when Coach Sylvester screeched loudly during the afternoon announcements that Blaine woke up, smacking his head against the underside of the bleachers. Kurt had probably been worried by his absence at lunch, but it wasn't as if he had the money to pay for the shitty school food anyway.

Massaging the bump forming on his head, Blaine crawled out from under the bleachers and dragged himself down the hall and off school grounds. The walk to his building could have taken five minutes or five hours, he had no idea. Even though he'd slept most of the day he felt more tired now than he had this morning. He trudged around the fence that surrounded his building's parking lot and came to a halt at the sight before him.

Carole's car was parked in front of his front door again, but she wasn't alone. His stomach clenched tightly as one of the drunks that had probably destroyed his apartment pounded on her passenger side window. He couldn't even understand the words the man was slurring through the glass, he doubted Carole could either. But the intent was obvious enough from the way he was leering at her through the window. Somehow they knew she was there to see him.

Adrenaline pumping, Blaine took off across the lot until he was right next to the man. He thought this one was called Henry or Harold or something.

"Fuck off," Blaine snarled, shoving the drunken man away from her car. He stumbled a bit and tottered on the spot before his blood shot eyes found Blaine.

"Hey, f- faggot," he hiccupped and glared at Blaine. "Found yourself a new mommy, did you? What's she think of that slut you're fu– "

Wham.

The crack of Blaine's fist against the man's cheek echoed off the building's crumbling walls. But apparently the man wasn't as unsteady and drunk as Blaine had originally thought. He stumbled back a few steps, clutching at his face, and then charged. Blaine's back was slammed against the side of Carole's car as the man tackled him. He could hear her screams behind him, but he couldn't focus on that right now. This was just like when he was in juvie. No emotion, no thoughts, just reflexes and action. He caught a grip on the man's shoulders and twisted, trying to wrestle him off to give himself some center of gravity to work with. A fist connected with his gut, but his attacker had over-balanced in his drunkenness and stumbled. Coughing from the blow, Blaine slammed his knee up against the other man's chest as a fist collided with his eye. Something caught his eyebrow ring and with a pained cry he felt it tear through his skin. The man's momentum carried him backwards and he stumbled head first into one of the pillars outside Blaine's door.

"What the hell is going on out here?"

The enraged voice of his landlord made Blaine stop mid- step. The drunken man slumped to the ground, his tongue lolling out of his mouth. The stocky, little bowling ball of a man that owned his building tottered over to him, glaring.

"What the fuck are you doing, causing a riot out here, boy?" He eyed the drunk suspiciously. "One of your nasty little jail buddies?" He kicked the passed out man in the leg and glared at Blaine again. "You keep attracting all this shit and you'll be outta here."

Blaine sneered at him. "Like I fucking want to stay here in the first place. You won't even fix my damn lock and that's part of my lease."

But the man ignored him, and headed back to the far end of the building where the mailboxes were. He heard Carole's door pop open as he picked up his backpack.

"Oh my god, Blaine, sweetheart, are you okay? You shouldn't have done that. He could have– "

"Get inside," he snapped tiredly, wiping away some of the blood trickling into his eye. He stepped over the drunk and shoved his front door open. Carole breezed in behind him, closing the door and dropping the boards into place. Her hands were soft, yet strong, as they grabbed him by the forearms and guided him over to the bed.

Too exhausted to protest, he dropped down onto the edge of the bed and let her examine the gash through his eyebrow. He knew she was talking, rambling really, but he could barely focus on the way his eye was throbbing, never mind her words. He let his eyes drift close as she talked and pressed something soft against the gash.

"– you might need a stitch or two for that," Carole told him, her voice shaking slightly. "Blaine? Are you listening, sweetheart?"

His shoulder shook a little and his eyes snapped open. God, he should not still be this tired.

"It'll be fine. I don't care if there's a little scar," he grumbled, hoping that was an accurate response to whatever she had last said. He looked over at her when she didn't immediately respond to his words. There were tears in her eyes, and her whole face looked like how he felt. Horrified, terrified, helpless in stopping everything the world was throwing at him. And all he had to look forward to was another sleepless night of waiting for intruders that might never come.

"You should go," Blaine said softly, "it's just a cut. I can handle it."

"No, you can't."

Her words were gentle, but firm. They brought back the tightness to his throat that Kurt's presence had done this morning. If he let them close now, he'd never get away. They'd get close to his heart and hurt him the same way his own family had.

"This is too much for even me to handle on my own, Blaine." She reached up to pet his hair and for once he didn't pull back. The touch was soft and affectionate and even though part of himself was yelling to pull away, he couldn't do it. Maybe he didn't even want to...

"You're not staying here tonight," Carole told him decisively. "Kurt and Finn are already at home with Burt."

His head shot up at her words. He hadn't known Kurt's father was awake, let alone out of the hospital.

"He's– Kurt's dad is– "

He couldn't even finish the sentence before Carole nodded. A wave of relief washed over him when he thought of how happy Kurt must have been to have such good news.

"On Friday. I brought him home earlier and now the boys are with him." She reached down and grabbed his bag from the floor. "Please, come with me, Blaine."

"I– " God, he wanted nothing more than to trust her. To take her offered hand and let himself be led to the Hummels house.

"Please, Blaine. You're exhausted. Kurt's exhausted. Let us help you."

He couldn't meet her eyes when he finally spoke. "Will I– if I go... can I see Kurt?"

She dropped down to her knees in front of him and cupped his face between her hands and made him look at her. He could feel the pressure starting to build behind his eyes when he met hers. "I will never keep you from Kurt, Blaine. You two are so good for each other. Please, stay the night at the Hummels."

"I– I– " He choked up a little on the words he was trying to push out, and stared into her pleading, hopeful eyes. It was a look Kurt had given him a hundred times, and one he wanted desperately to see right now. "Okay."

Her face split into a wide smile, and his heart fluttered strangely as she helped him to his feet. "Just– just for tonight, though, "Blaine clarified as she lead him out to her car.

"You can stay as long as you want or whenever you want, Blaine. There's no need to rush anything." She stopped him at the passenger side door and squeezed his shoulders. "We'll be here every step of the way, sweetheart."

With Carole's help he hopped into the passenger seat and buckled up. His eyes drooped closed and he was asleep before they'd even made it out of the parking lot. Bright lights were shining in through the windshield what felt like only moments later.Face scrunched up against the harsh lights, Blaine shifted and squinted around.

"Shhh, I'm just picking us up some dinner," Carole murmured from his left, "I'll be back in a few minutes."

However, part of him still didn't trust her words. He forced himself completely awake and stared out the windshield at the building they had stopped at. It was a little restaurant he'd never been to, though he'd seen it during his mindlessly walks around town over the summer. He watched Carole walk inside and disappear and shifted around until he was no longer slumped down in his seat. At most he'd slept for maybe fifteen minutes, but he did feel a little better, a little more awake. Carole reappeared with several bags stuffed full of containers a few minutes later. He had no idea when she'd placed the order or even if she'd gotten enough for him and her family as she opened the door and passed them over to him.

"How's that gash feel?" she asked, brushing her thumb over the little bandage he didn't remembered being placed there.

It was stinging and his entire eye socket was throbbing from the punch he'd taken, but instead of saying any of those things Blaine shrugged a little and adjusted the bags in his lap. Carole retracted her hand slowly, still eyeing him with concern, but she said no more as she pulled out of the parking lot and drove them to the Hummels house. Blaine stared out at the little square houses as Carole pulled onto Kurt's street. Some of his hesitancy and uncertainty was starting to creep back up on him. It couldn't hurt just to stay for one night, could it?

Carole insisted on carrying in all of the take away bags, which left him with only his dumpy little backpack as he followed her up the front porch.

"Come on, Blaine," she said gently, nudging him through the doorway and into the living room. The first thing he saw was Kurt's father and some kid from his weight lifting class seated on the couch and watching football together. They both looked up and stared at him when Carole tugged him further inside. Blaine could tell just from Burt's stern expression that the man wasn't surprised to see him. He didn't seem pissed off by his presence either, which Blaine thought was probably a good sign. His first impression had been memorable certainly, but in the worst possible way.

"Blaine, I think you know my son, Finn, from school?" Finn gave an awkward jerk of his head and glued his eyes back onto the television. Carole looked to Burt next and said, "And Kurt's dad, of course."

Blaine bit his lips and nodded slightly at the man. It shouldn't be possible to be that intimidating when you had just been released from the hospital. God, what the hell was he doing here? Burt would probably skin him in his sleep and try to package him up and sell him as meat. He wouldn't even make a decent meal since he was just skin and bones. And then he'd never see Kurt again or–

"Hello, Blaine. Quite the shiner you've got there."

Finn seemed to have picked up on the tension between them, because he shuffled over to Carole and snatched up the food bags with a quick, "I'll go sort these out. Did you get me extra fries?", and ran off to the kitchen.

Blaine nodded in agreement, and stuffed his hands into the pockets of his jacket. When he didn't offer any explanation, Burt shifted his eyes back to the television. "You like college football at all?"

"Uh, yeah," Blaine cleared his throat to take some of the gruffness from his voice. It was still raspy and exhausted sounding when he added, "I used to be a big Buckeyes fan."

"Yeah, me and Finn are, too," Burt said simply, his eyes darting back over to Blaine. There was something like concern in his gaze and on instinct Blaine took a step away from him, but Carole was right behind him. He swayed a little because of how exhausted he was, but her hands steadied him on his feet and kept him there.

"I should– I should go," Blaine grumbled. This was too awkward. Kurt's dad hated him. He knew he did and he didn't blame him either. He was better off just risking sleeping at his apartment tonight than staying here.

Finn shuffled back into the room and towards the closed door opposite of them. Kurt's door. Blaine's breath hitched slightly as Finn yanked it open and bellowed down the stairs that dinner was here.

Blaine had to shut his eyes at the swell of emotions that Kurt's voice created.

"I already told you I'm not hungry, Finn! Besides, I've still got to finish my moisturizing routine."

Finn shrugged and rolled his eyes as he disappeared back into the kitchen. Blaine barely noticed him walking past. His eyes were transfixed by the now open door. Kurt was right down those stairs, completely clueless to him standing over his head. All he wanted to do was race downstairs and wrap himself around Kurt, but Burt... Burt would never allow that.

"Go on, kid."

Startled by the words, Blaine jerked his head around and stared at Burt. He could feel the desperate hope clawing up his throat as Burt jutted his chin in the direction of Kurt's door.

"He could do with a good surprise."

Lips trembling slightly, Blaine tried to say something, anything to tell him how much this meant. But nothing came out. Slowly, he trudged over to the open door, glancing back at Burt as though he expected him to suddenly change his mind. Once his feet hit the first step he practically vaulted down them to get to Kurt. The room was empty, though, and his heart dropped in his chest until he heard Kurt's exasperated voice echo out from the bathroom.

"For the thousandth time, Finn, I'm not hun– "

Kurt appeared in the doorway, the towel he'd been using to dab his face dry falling to the floor in his shock.

"Hi," Blaine whispered, taking another tentative step forward. Just the sight of Kurt made his chest feel like it was going to crack because his heart was swelling painfully. And then Kurt was rushing at him, and this beautiful boy was in his arms, and everything he'd been holding inside broke.

He pressed his face against the side of Kurt's neck as Kurt's arms wrapped tightly around him, and the tears started to cling to his eyelashes.

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry," he choked out, clutching desperately at Kurt's back as they dropped down onto the floor.

"Shh, I've got you, baby," Kurt mumbled against his hair, and Blaine felt himself being pulled closer until Kurt's warmth was the only thing he could feel. He wrapped himself around Kurt, and breathed in his scent between his shaky sobs. This was where his real home was. This was where he belonged, right here tangled up in Kurt's warm, loving arms.