Living a healthier lifestyle really made Burt feel stronger when he went to the shop for his first visit since his heart attack. Everything was running smoothly, but Burt knew his guys were dependable. It was the only reason he felt comfortable taking a vacation every summer and now as much time as he needed to get healthier. There was a good set of guys working for him and he appreciated it all the more when he saw how well everything had been going in the past month.

By the end of his short trip, Burt was tired. He headed back home, glancing at the clock in his truck as he drove. He'd be back about an hour before the boys got home from their Glee rehearsals. That left plenty of time for him to shower and steal the television in the living room before Finn nabbed it. It was his house. He was entitled to use his own flat screen when he wished, even if he hated bumping the boys off and making them scrap over the only other one in the house down in Kurt's room. Normally, that ended with a him nursing a throbbing headache from all the snarling seeping up through the floorboards. If there was one thing Kurt didn't tolerate very well, it was having his room invaded by a mob of roughhousing boys with an Xbox.

However, when he pulled up to the house, he was surprised to see Kurt's Navigator in the driveway and his son leaning into the open passenger door. Burt pulled in behind him, shut his truck off, and climbed out.

"You're home early," Burt called as he circled around the front of his truck to the passenger side of Kurt's. "Was Glee Club cancel–"

Burt trailed off when he came up next to Kurt and saw Blaine, shrunken and tearful, in the passenger seat.

"Shh, come on, Blaine," Kurt soothed, giving Burt a helpless glance. "We'll get in the house and it'll be fine."

But Blaine didn't move. His breathing was shallow, his knees drawn up to his chest while his fists were pressed against his eyes. It was clearly a defensive pose born out of the fear currently plaguing the boy.

"What happened?" Burt asked immediately. He gently reached in and touched Blaine's shoulder. The boy flinched a little, but accepted the touch after a moment.

"He– I'm not sure," Kurt admitted, looking frantic. He clutched Blaine's wrist and desperately trying to ease him out of the Navigator. "Sam said he stayed after class to shower and then we heard him trip and hit the floor outside the choir room and– I don't know. I think he's having some kind of flashback, but I don't know where it's coming from. It's just so sudden."

Burt watched Blaine for a few seconds. The boy didn't so much as move despite Kurt's hands on his forearm and Burt's tight squeeze on his shoulder. It was like nothing was left inside of him, like a shell of Blaine was tucked into the passenger seat. He'd never seen anyone have a flashback to something traumatic before. Blaine had certainly been close when he'd booked it out of their kitchen a month ago, but that had been panic-driven and full of blunt, fast motion. This was different, like Blaine was lost right in front of them.

"Let's get him in the house," Burt decided, ducking in and gently easing one arm under Blaine's back and the other under his legs.

"Dad!" Kurt scolded, his voice harsh as Burt started to ease Blaine out. "You can't do this right now! Your heart can't–"

"The hell with that," Burt grumbled, carefully lifting Blaine and stepping back. Blaine's weight settled on his back and arms. The boy was heavier than he looked. "Get the door."

"But– Dad, your heart–"

"You arguing isn't making the strain on it any shorter," Burt reminded him, taking a step around Kurt and towards the door.

At his words, Kurt leapt into action, darting around his Navigator and up the porch to the door. Burt followed at a much slower pace, shifting Blaine's trembling body in his arms. By the time he reached the door, Kurt had it wide open and he hurried through to the living room, where he set Blaine down on the couch.

He groaned as the weight left his upper body, rubbing the parts of his back that he could reach as Kurt babbled anxiously before he stuffed Burt into his armchair. Then he started darting back and forth between him and Blaine until Burt grabbed his arm and made him stop.

"But Blaine's still– and your heart is not ready for that–"

"Kurt, bud, I'm fine," Burt assured him. Now that Blaine's weight was off of him, he felt quite good. His heart was working a little faster than usual, but it was nothing painful or worrisome. "It's him I'm worried about," Burt added, nodding towards Blaine's huddled, tiny form on the couch.

Kurt nodded, casting him an uncertain look before he settled down beside Blaine.

"Blaine?"

Burt watched as his son eased his body behind Blaine and cradled the smaller boy against his chest. One hand wound itself around Blaine's waist and the other threaded through Blaine's hair, tugging the gel apart as he massaged the other boy's scalp. Kurt murmured against his forehead for a long time as Burt watched. It was striking to see the difference present in his son now. A few months ago, Kurt had nobody to hold like this; there hadn't been a friend in the world for him to go to or be needed by. The caring and nurturing young man he'd known for years was finally finding his footing again. He reminded Burt so strongly of Elizabeth right then, sitting there with Blaine the same way Elizabeth had sat up with their Chicken Poxed toddler for almost a week.

After almost an hour, Blaine started moving, his hands unclenching and moving enough to grasp Kurt's jacket tightly. Kurt fretted anxiously until finally–

"Kurt?"Blaine mumbled, his voice small and shaky. "W- Where–"

"We're at my house," Kurt said, breathing out a huge breath in relief. "Are you okay? Can you sit up?"

Blaine nodded woozily and, with Kurt's help, sat up and looked around the living room.

"Oh," he said softly when he spotted Burt, "I didn't drag you away from anything important, did I?"

Burt rolled his eyes and got up to join them on the couch. "Kiddo, you are the furthest thing from an inconvenience in my life. Hell, I don't know what we'd do without you. Stop acting like you don't matter, all right?"

"I–" Blaine gulped and rubbed the sweat from his brow. "Sorry."

"Stop that, too," Burt amended, casting Blaine a pointed look. "You've got nothing to apologize for."

"Right, s– right," Blaine stammered as Kurt's arm settled around his shoulders. "I– what happened? The last thing I remember was someone putting me in the car and then I was here."

"I– Sam put you in, then I drove us here," Kurt said slowly. "You were having some sort of flashback or something. Don't you remember?"

Judging by the expression on Blaine's face he did remember and that was the problem. Remembering all of this had been like undercooked meat rumbling around in his stomach. Everything seemed to be coming back up today.

"I– it's hard to forget," Blaine admitted tersely. "I wish I could."

"The worst things in life are usually the most important," Burt told him. "They change you in ways you never really understand until much later. Forgetting them, even if it's how you died, isn't worth what else you'd lose. It's the worst that shows you yours, and other people's, best."

Blaine stared at him like he didn't entirely believe him, but eventually he nodded.

"What happened?" Kurt asked after a moment. "I mean, like, at McKinley? Sam kept snarling about Karofsky and wanting to go find him."

"It– nothing," Blaine answered, looking horribly guilty. After a moment of Kurt's piercing gaze and Burt's own disbelieving one, Blaine wilted a bit. "He was giving me a hard time in class. Nothing out of the ordinary, okay?"

"And after everyone else left? Did–" Kurt swallowed audibly and squirmed, "did he t- try anything?"

"What? No," Blaine said immediately. Normally, such a fast answer would alarm Burt, but the surprised look on Blaine's face eased his worry a little. Nothing too terrible had happened. Blaine was horribly shaken up, he had a few little cuts on his hands from falling, but nothing else seemed to have harmed him except his own mind. "He left, too."

Kurt frowned at Blaine, looking helpless and lost about what had triggered him so badly. "But then what–"

"He came back because he forgot something," Blaine added before Kurt could pester him further. "I was just getting ready to leave and we... we had words. I've been treating him like too much of a joke, I think. Like he can't hurt me because I'm dead and all of that, but... there's something not right about him. He was–" Blaine shook his head, flinched when Kurt's hand brushed his cheek, and stared down at his lap. "There's something... sinister about him, Kurt. Not, like, evil or anything, but... he's got some sort of motive for why he goes after you – and now me – all the time. He's too much l- like Lee."

Burt watched the array of emotions that played across Blaine's face then – fear, regret, anger, but most surprisingly, sadness. He had no idea who this Lee was, only that he was inevitably a distant, and very central, part of Blaine's past and what had happened to him.

"Who's Lee?"

Kurt's question was met with an eerie silence. Blaine was so still it made Burt ache to think about what sort of memories were chasing each other through his mind right now. Clearly, whoever Lee was, or had been, wasn't a simple answer.

"He is– was," Blaine corrected carefully, his voice clipped and neutral, "my be– bully."

Burt took note of the stumble on bully. For some reason he couldn't explain, he didn't entirely believe it. There was certainly a lot of painful attachments to this Lee boy, but there was something else Blaine wasn't saying. Instead of calling him on it right now, Burt let the obvious fib slide. Blaine had been through more than enough already today.

"Oh," Kurt breathed softly. He bit his lip, looking hesitant as he plowed on. "W- were you remembering what happen when you... um, died?"

Blaine offered them a short nod, and didn't say anything for a long time. None of them spoke after that, not until Blaine had regained his usual posture and Burt was looking through the channels to see if there was anything interesting on tonight.

"I think Karofsky's your Lee," Blaine said suddenly. "Not exactly like him, there's so much that he isn't to you, but I think he's the person who could go the same route if I don't help... you? Maybe him? I'm not sure, but I think he's the one I have to face."

"Y- you think he's going to try to hurt us?" Kurt said fearfully.

Burt set down his remote down and turned to Blaine. "I know it really isn't my place to ask this, and you've got every right to refuse to answer, kid, but what did happen to you? If it might happen to Kurt, then I want to be prepared and I want to be able to put a stop to it."

"I–" Blaine swallowed and shook his head fiercely. Kurt rubbed his back and Burt felt guilty as he looked away. He shouldn't have asked, but it was difficult to find the right etiquette for asking these questions without overstepping. Blaine was here to face his past, so bringing it up was necessary, but Burt hated to push such a traumatic experience. "I came out at the end of my sophomore year."

Burt turned back to the couch, surprised by Blaine's words. The circumstances alone were highly unusual for the time Blaine had grown up in. The 1950s weren't exactly known as an overly accepting time for a variety of reasosn. But Burt was hopeful that he would get an answer and that speaking about it would benefit him, too. If Blaine was ever going to get the ball rolling on facing his life, then maybe now was a good time to start.

"It was probably the stupidest thing I've ever done," Blaine added bitterly. "I told Cooper first. My brother," he clarified. "He was a little unsure. Being gay wasn't something really acknowledged or discussion or even known about back then. It was the fifties and sixties. Anyone who was kept quiet about it and nobody spoke about it. Cooper accepted me, though. I told him at Christmas that year. As long as I was happy, he didn't care."

Blaine shifted away from Kurt's side, looking pale and sick. Without a word, Burt shut the television off and gave the boy his full attention. If this went where Blaine seemed to be directing it, then they might all be heading towards another flashback or panic attack.

"He was the only one who knew for a while," Blaine continued slowly, his voice heavy and rough. "I told my parents a few weeks before school let out. Them not knowing was just making everything too difficult, especially with my dad. He kept trying to get me to take his boss's daughter to their banquets and dinner parties and I kept making excuses. I think he was kind of glad when I blurted it out at dinner one night. At least he knew why I was lying. My mom... she just pretended like she hadn't heard me for a while."

Blaine shrugged out of Kurt's grasp and folded his arms tightly over his chest. "She didn't want it in the house or talked about. My dad... I think he understood in some ways, but he never really said anything. It wasn't proper to discuss it. Just brush it under the rug with everything else about our family that wasn't fit for decency.

"My mom still tried to get me to go out with a few of her friend's daughters. I still made excuses and they didn't push it, but one night my grandparents were over for dinner and... well, she brought up her latest friend's daughter and how I should take her to a picture show or something. She knew I wouldn't say no in front of my grandfather."

"So you went," Kurt deduced softly.

"Yeah," Blaine nodded vaguely. "We went out, she tried to kiss me, I pulled back and told her I wasn't interested. Word spread around by the Fourth of July. Lima was a tiny town back then, Kurt. Everyone knew everybody else's business. I ended up telling my grandparents when we went over for the holiday. My grandmother just cried and starting praying. My grandfather slammed the door in my face."

Blaine grimaced and stared hard at the coffee table. It was a few minutes before he spoke again. Kurt had his lower lip sucked between his teeth, anxiously trying to decide if he should pat Blaine's back or try to take his hand again while Burt watched.

It wasn't surprising to hear anything that had happened to Blaine so long ago. Burt had suspected it for quite some time, but it was still difficult to accept. Anything of that sort happening to anyone at anytime was ludicrous and cruel. Just because the boy had wanted to be open and let his family know he wanted to love another, one who just happened to be the same gender as himself, he'd been turned out and emotionally abandoned by all of them except his brother.

"My parents gave me one of the cars and money to go visit Cooper for the rest of the summer," Blaine finally said. "I went and we had a lot of fun, got back a few weeks before school started up. Everyone knew by then. Word just got out. My friends had all stopped talking to me. All of them except one." Blaine swallowed audibly, his hands shaking visibly as he unfolded his arms and gripped his knees. He was quiet and trembling for so long Burt thought he'd slipped into another panic attack or flashback.

"Blaine?" Kurt whispered, finally letting his unsure hand settle on top of one of Blaine's. The other boy jerked a little, ripping himself from whatever memory had caught him this time.

"Sorry," Blaine muttered. "It's just... hard to remember. It's hard to realize I can remember every little detail about that summer, but can't remember anything I've eaten in the past week, you know? It's just weird. Fifty years later and I'm still stuck with it."

"That's why you're here," Burt offered,. "to get unstuck from it." He cleared his throat and let Blaine take a few deep breaths. "So this friend that stuck by you, what happened to them?"

A little tickle curled around the edge of Burt's mind at the question. He had a sneaking, horrible suspicion about what had followed Blaine's return, but he wished it was wrong more than he'd ever wished for anything in his life.

"He, um," Blaine paused, swallowed and sucked in a shaky breath. "We hung out in secret for a bit, but... it didn't work out. He couldn't handle any of it and I– eventually he dumped me, too."

Burt filed away the choice of phrasing for later. There was definitely something more that had happened in those weeks before school, something Blaine had kept secret and safe for a long time.

"And then?" Kurt pressed gently.

Blaine swallowed once more. It was starting to look like a nervous tic instead of a desperate move to keep his throat from closing up. Burt adjusted his cap, watched Blaine finally accept Kurt's hand, and listened for the next twenty minutes as Blaine talked them through the day he'd died.

Blaine tensed as he bounced back off the lockers in the main hall. The group of football players chuckled, congratulated each other, and then took their girlfriends' hands and carried on down the hall. Swallowing against the burning pain zigzagging along the bruises that now littered his torso, Blaine huddled down on the floor and hoped desperately that nobody else would take notice of him this morning. His entire first week had been nothing short of brutal. Blaine guessed that was what happened when the entire school – hell, the entire town– found out you were a homosexual. Even his best friend had finally turned on him.

Blaine stared after the group that had just shoved him about, watching Lee's lettermen jacket stretch as he reached up to high-five Michael over Vanessa's head. A week ago that high-five would have been reserved for him.

Miserable and aching, Blaine twisted a bit and fumbled with the combination for his bottom row locker. It was the only advantage of getting knocked to the ground half a dozen times a day; his locker was literally right next to him.

"Hurry it up, queer!" someone passing by shouted. "You've only got five minutes before the buses leave! They need a good queer for road kill!"

Blaine bit his lower lip and tried to ignore the tears building up in his eyes. He didn't even know that girl. Another hour and he'd be home and would have the entire weekend to recover from his cuts, scrapes, and bruises. Maybe he could call Cooper tonight and let some of his hurt out. Cooper would listen. His older brother always understood.

As Blaine dug out the books he needed for the weekend and traded in the ones from his last two classes, he decided to see if the weight room would be empty for a bit. Right now he could really use a good workout with the punching bag hung up in there. Anything to get rid of all his pent up frustration and pain.

When he went past the room, Blaine glanced at the schedule and was relieved to see that there was an entire open block for the rest of the evening. The only thing he would have to worry about was meeting the football team in the boys' locker room before their game tonight. He'd be gone by then, of course. That was hours from now. There was plenty of time for him to box for a bit.

Blaine headed into the locker room, sneaking around the rows until he was sure the place was deserted. He'd change quickly and then get back to the weight room. The football team and a handful of other groups still had practice this afternoon, so he had to be careful.

Blaine opened his gym locker and set his books and bag inside before starting to undress. He was halfway through changing when the locker room door squeaked open.

He froze, arms going numb as he fumbled to pull his sweatpants up.

"Thought you would have gone home after that."

Lee. The boy who had been his best friend for a decade had entered the room. Blaine glanced towards the other boy, in his football gear, helmet swinging from one hand as he opened his own locker. "Forgot my water bottle," he said offhandedly.

Chest swelling with agony, Blaine stared into his locker as Lee grabbed his jug and closed the locker. The other boy had just reached the door when Blaine couldn't contain himself anymore.

"Lee, I'm sorry!"

His watery voice rang out around the locker room. Lee paused at the door, looking angry and resigned. "And? You're a freak, B– Anderson. Apologizing for it won't do anyone any good."

"Lee, please," Blaine pleaded, not even bothering to check the tears pooling in his eyes as he turned towards him. "You... you know what I'm apologizing for. I was just– you're the only one who stuck by me and I just lost control–"

"Lost control of where you put your lips?" Lee hissed, eyes darting around the room nervously. "If that disease is contagious and I suddenly get it, then my life is over, too!"

"It's not a disease," Blaine mumbled half-heartedly. Being homosexual was just something he was, not something another could catch.

"Like hell it is," Lee snapped bitterly. "Do you know what everyone's been saying about you?" He swiped his sleeve over his lips just like he had a week ago, glaring over at Blaine. The distrust in Lee's gaze made Blaine look away. "Just go home and– just get out of here."

Lee left the room quickly and Blaine stood there for a long time, trying to suppress his sobs and slow his tears. Eventually he clambered down the hall to the weight room to box. He'd barely had twenty minutes before the wrestling team stumbled in with their coach.

"Looks, fellas! It's the school queer!"

Blaine flinched and lowered his raised hands as the little group filed in and took turns shoving the bag towards Blaine. The coach, Mr. Dover, looked right past Blaine as he called the jeering boys over to the other side of the room. None of the teachers did anything to help him. Most of them silently encouraged the taunts and abuse. Jittery with nerves at the unsafe environment, Blaine grabbed his towel and water and hurried back to the empty locker room. After a quick shower, Blaine changed back into his normal clothes and started pulling his bag and books out of his locker.

Again, the door banged open, but this time it wasn't just Lee that entered.

"Well, well, if it isn't faggy little Anderson, here to find a good pecker to choke on!"

"That's what he wants, ain't it, Lee?"

The two boys, Michael and Jeff, snorted and laughed, nudging Lee who huffed out a few chuckles of his own. Lee always got nervous when his football friends got anywhere near Blaine. They'd never liked Blaine, but before they'd never had a reason to dislike him publicly. At the end of the last school year, Blaine had been popular and even adored by a large number of the student body. Now there was every reason for them to bully him openly and, if they could manage it, force Lee to do it, too. Blaine swallowed anxiously and shut his locker.

"Let's just get the playbook out of coach's office and go before we catch it," Lee decided, eyeing Blaine carefully. Blaine could see the hurt that lingered there behind the anger and distrust. Lee still longed to be best friends again, still liked Blaine even if it wasn't the same as how Blaine had thought he liked Lee, but he was scared. He'd been stupid to think his crush on Lee had been anything more than it was. They were best friends and that was the end of it. The real end of it apparently. They weren't anything anymore.

"What? And leave Anderson in here to molest a poor unsuspecting boy? No," Michael argued, glowering over at Blaine, who was trying to scoot along the row of lockers towards the door to make a run for it. "You better try and get out of here, queer, this locker room is no place for you."

"Yeah!" Jeff and Lee agreed, but Lee couldn't meet his eyes when he said it.

Blaine took a few more steps towards the door next to them, but Michael blocked it and Jeff circled around him.

"I think we should teach you a proper lesson," Jeff said, looking towards Lee. "You've got your bat in your locker still, right? Maybe we can beat it out of him–"

"Yeah," Lee answered, looking resigned to Blaine's fate. Blaine's stomach knotted painfully. He had to get out of here. If Lee wasn't going to help him, then he'd have to run. "It's still unlocked–"

Jeff moved off behind Blaine for the locker and Blaine darted forward, panic screaming through his limbs as Michael tried to stop him. Blaine managed to dodge the two surprised boys, but as he shoved through the door he could a locker slam open and the shouts of the other three in pursuit.

"Look at that queer run!" Lee shouted and his teammates laughed and gave chase with him.

Blaine ran furiously, out of the locker room and down the hall, his books and notebooks flying out of his arms as he went. Homework didn't matter when they were suited up for the first football game of the season and on his tail. He headed towards the student parking lot, the sun low on the horizon as he leapt down the steps, towards his car on the far side–

His toe snagged on the edge of the huge pothole by the sidewalk. Blaine tumbled forward, bag sliding off his shoulder as his kneecaps hit the concrete. He was caught, trapped with nobody around to help him. Not that anyone actually would. The hopeless thought settled in his mind as the end of the bat smacked down against the pavement where his head had just been.

"Grab him!" Jeff shouted and two pairs of hands hoisted Blaine up and dragged him back towards the large pick-up truck parked next to the pothole.

Heart hammering, Blaine grabbed at the fists tugging and stretching out his shirt and tried desperately to pull himself free. A second later, his back connected with the truck behind him. Gasping and wheezing, Blaine doubled over as the wooden bat tapped rhythmically against the concrete.

"Who wants to go first?" Michael asked as Jeff and Lee pinned Blaine back against the car.

Shaking and coughing, Blaine looked up and found the other boy with Lee's old bat in hand, watching Lee hopefully. It was the same bat he'd hit his first home run with in little league years ago.

"Lee, please–" Blaine started, but the blunt end of the bat was jabbed forward, catching him under the ribs and making his gag and cough harshly again.

"You think you're cool, you stupid little queer? Bet you want your mouth stuffed full of all of our dicks, don't you? You're going straight to Hell," Michael continued, shoving the bat towards Lee. He aimed a punch at Blaine's jaw, catching him on the chin as Blaine tried to move away."He's been creeping on you for years," he said viciously to Lee. "You get first dibs on him."

Horrified and trembling, Blaine tried vainly to get free, but his lungs were still spasming from the hit. "I didn't mean it, Lee, I swear. Please, don't do this–"

Lee took the offered bat as Michael took a hold of his right arm. Immediately, Blaine realized it was the wrong thing to say. Lee was terrified Blaine would say what had happened last week, and if he did–

Smack!

The thick wood of the baseball bat fell heavily against Blaine's chest. He wheezed and stumbled, trying to duck away or pull himself free from the other boys struggling to keep a hold on him–

"How could you lie to me like that?" Lee snarled and Blaine, trying to remember how to breathe as his ribs throbbed and cracked from the second direct hit, couldn't answer. Maybe it would have been better to lie to himself instead. "You were my best friend and I was just, what? The boy you thought was going to be your first victim, is that it? You thought you could turn me?"

"N- no," Blaine gasped out. "Lee, I wasn't–"

"Shut up!" The bat smacked into his stomach and then his shoulder. Blaine shouted in pain as something in his shoulder snapped and tore through his skin–

He made a desperate, breathless scramble to get out of the other two boys grip, only managing it because Michael had released the shoulder Lee had just broken. Blaine stumbled for a few steps, eyes swimming with tears, but someone caught him again, slinging him back into the side of the truck. The bat whistled through the air, connecting with his side and making him whine and attempt to curl in on himself.

"Stop stop stop," he pleaded, legs shaking as a foot connected with his crotch. He yelped in pain, doubling over and no longer trying to hold in his gasping sobs.

"That's so you never get to use it on anyone!" Jeff shouted.

Blaine tried to get away again, his elbow catching the latest swing of the bat and sending him tumbling forward and into the pothole. The sudden fury of violence stopped as he curled up in the hole, hoping desperately that it was over and he could remember how to breath regularly again. Everything ached and burned. His ribs were like molten lava in his chest, screaming in protest against his rapid, ragged, and uncontrollable breathing.

"I'm sorry I'm sorry I'm sorry," Blaine repeated helplessly, praying that Lee or God or someone would hear him and believe him and make it stop.

"Sorry doesn't cut it," Jeff snapped at him. "Nobody wants you alive anymore. Just lay here and die!"

Blaine shivered and kept himself curled up, hoping that that was it. If it was over, then he'd survived. He'd crawl to his car and figure out how to drive home with a broken shoulder and tear-stained cheeks. Then sneak into the house and call Cooper as he cleaned up. Cooper would know what to do; his big brother was always there when we really needed him.

"Come on, guys," Lee said, voice weak and breathless. "Let's get back to practice–"

"And not finish the job? We're only doing the world a favor," Michael argued.

"Michael, he's had enough, all right? He got the point–"

"Give me that," Michael snarled, yanking the bat from Lee's limp grasp and slamming the blunt end into Blaine's lower back. "Come on, queer. Come out and play!"

Blaine whimpered as the bat slammed down against him again. Despite his words, Lee made no move to step in and help. His head was starting to swim, his eyes still pooling tears. He lost count of the number of times the bat slammed into his body, mind going numb as he felt things break and crack from the force of the hits.

Laughter– a homophobic slur–a fist yanking him up from the pave by his hair until he hollered in pain–

The bat cracked against his jaw– his vision blacked out and then the worst pain he'd ever experienced flooded his chest–

Footsteps raced away as Blaine sunk down into the pothole again, feeling like someone had connected a hose to his lungs. He was alone finally. Alone and gurgling up something thick and coppery...

"I kinda went in and out for a bit," Blaine finished, hands shaking violently as Kurt held him close. "And then, well... you know the rest."

As Kurt clutched him close and Burt joined them on the couch, Blaine tried to regain some control of himself. He'd never told anybody what he'd just told Kurt and Burt. Granted, he'd left out most of the stuff with Lee because he didn't want to think about the other boy, but it was still more than he'd ever said about how he'd died.

"Kurt, go grab a glass of water," Burt said gently.

"But–"

"I've got it, bud," Burt insisted, prying Kurt's hands off of Blaine's shoulders and easing Blaine in against his chest. "Go on."

Blaine stiffened momentarily as Burt's arms settled around him. He felt tiny in the older man's grasp, like an infant all bundled up in his father's arms. Burt's arms gave him a good, firm squeeze and when he started rocking him, Blaine lost it completely. His own father had never dared to do such a thing with him. Physical contact between the Anderson men stopped at a very young age and from then on was limited to handshakes.

"I've got you, kiddo," Burt murmured as Blaine buried his face in Burt's flannel and let out the howl he'd suppressed for too long. "Nobody's gonna hurt you like that anymore as long as I'm here."

Still shaking and gasping, Blaine clung on, crying and choking as Burt rocked him slowly. Eventually his eyes drooped down with the exhaustion and rhythmic motion of Burt's rocking, his tears slowing until he drifted off to sleep.

What felt like days later, Blaine found himself sunken down into something soft and plushy with warmth wrapped all around him. He blinked through the sleep crusting his eyes and glanced around the dim room. Kurt's room. Someone had moved him down here and tucked him into Kurt's bed.

"Blaine? How are you feeling?"

He rolled over, sniffing and trying to clear his nose from the snot that had crusted over in his nostrils. Kurt was sitting on the bed beside him, remote in hand. The television blipped out as Kurt shifted closer, helping Blaine ease onto his back. A soft hand swept his loosen curls back and felt his head.

"You're still a little clammy," Kurt muttered anxiously. "Do you want anything? Water? Some soup or something else to eat?"

"Water," Blaine requested, rolling more towards Kurt instead of trying to sit up. His limbs were shaky and he was exhausted from earlier. The entire day was like a blur and a month all at once. Everything felt out of balance except for Kurt at his side.

Kurt fumbled with something on the night-stand, then twisted back and helped prop Blaine up against his pillows so that he could drink. Once the glass was finished off, Kurt set it aside and laid down facing Blaine.

"Are you okay?"

"I think so," Blaine decided, rolling his shoulders a bit as he faced Kurt. They were much closer than they'd ever been. Blaine's heart fluttered a bit at the proximity, but he didn't have the strength to bother moving away. He was drained and felt clumsy and stupid. "just tired. Really tired. Please, tell me your dad didn't carry me again."

"No, Finn did. I tried, but you're heavier than you look. Back to sleep then," Kurt said. "But let's change into pajamas first, okay?"

Blaine nodded weakly and watched Kurt leap about the room, collecting his pajamas and the set Blaine now kept there for when he unexpectedly spent the night. Kurt headed into the bathroom with his and Blaine was left alone in the room. He took his time changing, his limbs heavy and stiff as he pulled his pajama pants on and then slid the silky button-up around his shoulders. It was only when he reached the top button that Blaine started to feel uncomfortable. He glanced down to find the shirt stretched tight across his shoulders and chest in a way it never had before. Confused, he stepped towards Kurt's vanity and eyed himself in the mirror carefully.

"Oh, you beat me to facial time!"

Blaine backed away as Kurt approached and settled down on the little bench. Instead of joining him, he stumbled back to the bed and collapsed, mind churning sluggishly at the too tight pajama top. Maybe Carole or Kurt had dried it with too much heat or something. His other shirts still felt fairly loose.

After another ten minutes of Kurt cleaning his face up, the other boy joined him on the bed, sliding under the covers while Blaine laid on top.

"I'm sorry you had to go through all of that," Kurt said suddenly, his voice tense.

"Not your fault," Blaine mumbled. "It won't happen to you," he promised. "I won't let it."

"I know," Kurt said simply, smiling slightly as he reached over for Blaine's hand. He laced their fingers together tightly and settled them between their chests. "It still isn't fair–"

"Most things aren't," Blaine reminded him. "But I'm here and for you it will be."

Kurt fell silent after that, his thumb brushing back and forth over Blaine's knuckles as they laid there in the dim room. Blaine watched him, sunk easily into the connection and familiar comfort of Kurt's presence so close. He could get so entirely used to this, to every day being another moment of a simple happiness in Kurt's touch that he'd never known before.

"Blaine, I–" Kurt bit his lip, looking guilty at whatever he was trying to say. "You said i- it won't happen to me because you're here."

"Yeah," Blaine agreed, nodding for Kurt to continue.

"But, then why was nobody there to help you?" Kurt wondered. His eyes flickered down guiltily at bringing up the subject again. "Sorry, I shouldn't keep bringing this up after–"

"I don't know," Blaine admitted. The thought struck him hard. He'd never even considered it before, but he had no answer. Why was he here to prevent it from happening to Kurt, when nobody had been there to prevent it from happening to him?

Kurt looked down at their hands for a few minutes, and Blaine looked, too. It felt so natural, so right in a way nothing had for a long time. He'd never held another boy's hand before until Kurt. Now he did it all the time. There was constantly physical affection and contact, something Blaine had always craved in his own life.

"What did you want to do after high school?" Kurt asked suddenly, clearly trying to find a good topic to switch to. "You had a scholarship to Julliard, right?"

"Yeah, I wanted to be on Broadway and live in New York until I... until I met the right man and got married," Blaine choked a bit on the last part, wrenching his gaze away from their joined hands. What if he'd come back here just to find the right one and to know he could never have him?

"You sound like me," Kurt giggled, giving Blaine a small smile as Blaine looked over.

It was too much. On top of everything else he'd been through today, seeing Kurt wide-open and hopeful in front of him was his undoing.

Blaine tilted his head in and pressed his lips to Kurt's.