"Seriously, where is it coming from?" Kurt asked the darkness, tossing himself onto his side.

But his bed reeked of it. The familiar and still comforting combination of Blaine's hair gel and cologne. It made no sense. Blaine hadn't been in his room since September but still his scent was inescapable. In the pillows and sheets, even in the heavy comforter that he only used in the winter months. Kurt sighed, telling himself that it was all in his head. He slammed his eyes shut and breathed through his mouth, trying his best not to smell it. He laid awake for hours, unable to ignore it. And as he laid there, everything came back. He remembered lying in his bed in New York with Blaine beside him, too stunned to cry anymore. Blaine cried. And Kurt knew him too well to think that it was fake. No matter how hurt or angry he was with Blaine, it was nothing compared to the self-loathing Blaine must have been feeling. Christmas had been better. They were friends again, sort of. They had been able to be around each other with out yelling or crying and they even hugged a few times. Kurt hadn't realized how much he had missed Blaine's arms until they were around him.

And that scent.

Sleep finally came but it was fitful and full of images of Blaine's face. When Kurt heard the telltale sounds of Carole waking up, he went down the kitchen to start the morning's coffee before his dad had a chance to do it. He went through the routine he and Carole developed during the first summer after she and his dad had married. He made a veggie scramble for himself and Carole, preloaded the toaster with an English muffin and set the table for just the two of them. Just as the coffee was finishing, Carole came into the kitchen, already dressed in her scrubs.

"Morning, sweetheart." She kissed his cheek affectionately before going to the coffee pot and pouring them each a cup.

"Morning." Kurt stirred at the egg mixture, adding the peppers and onions. Carole pushed the lever on the toaster and leaned against the counter beside him, sipping at her coffee.

"Sleep well?" she asked.

Kurt paused, debating whether or not he should say anything. Carole had always been more like a friend than anything else. If his dad had asked, he might not have said anything. "Actually, no. I--um... My bed still--uh--it still smells like Blaine even though he hasn't been in my room in months."

Carole quirked an eyebrow at him. "Do... are you talking to Blaine much these days?"

Kurt nodded, getting two plates out and pulling the skillet of the burner. He scooped the eggs onto the plates and handed one to Carole. "A few times a week. Why?" He sat at the kitchen table, taking a long sip from his mug.

Carole got her English muffin out of the toaster and sat at the table with her plate, across from Kurt. She swallowed, clearly considering whether or not to say anything.

"Kurt, Blaine's been having more problems with his parents than usual lately. When he and your dad came back from New York, we had a talk with him. They're--"

"They're not hurting him, are they?" he blurted out, dropping his fork and burying his face in his hands. He may have still had some anger towards Blaine but no one deserved that. And while Blaine had never outright said that his parents had been abusive, it wouldn't have surprised him.

"Oh! No, honey, nothing like that. Not physically, at least." Kurt lowered his hands and looked up at her. "They're not the most understanding or accepting people, as well you now. It just seems like Blaine can't do anything right as far as they're concerned. But Burt and I told him that he is always welcome to stay here if he needs to get away. He started out sleeping on the couch but it was so clear that he wasn't sleeping well. One night Sam said, as a joke, that he should sleep in your bed and he did. The next morning, it was like looking at the old Blaine."

"Carole..." Kurt sighed, closing his eyes.

"I know, I know. You're just friends and I'm proud of you for working on forgiving him. But Kurt," she reached across the table and gripped his hand, "that boy is still in love with you. He needs you. And he's having a hard time right now. He turned up last week and just locked himself in your room for hours. I'm not saying that his need for you is healthy, but he's in love with you and your room is as close as he can physically get to you when things get really bad."

Kurt nodded silently, blinking back the tears in his eyes. He knew that Blaine's dad was giving him more crap than usual but he wasn't aware of how bad it was. All Blaine had told him was that he was being more stringent about curfews and grades. But it sounded like more was going on.

***

Kurt sat at the vanity in his bathroom going through his nightly moisturizing routine considering what Carole had told him that morning. He had washed his sheets that afternoon and they no longer smelled like Blaine, thank God. He would see Blaine at the wedding on Thursday, probably before as he and Sam were good friends now. He sprayed on toner, the final step, and gently patted his face dry. As he brushed his teeth, the doorbell rang.

He stopped brushing, going to his door and listening as his dad grumbled something about 'that old rightwing blowhard' and went down the stairs to the front door.

He pressed his ear to the door, straining to hear what was going on. Blaine's voice was instantly recognizable even through the solid wood. He couldn't hear what he was saying but he sounded distraught. His dad said something and then their voices faded. Kurt stood there for several more minutes, not caring that his mouth was full of spit and toothpaste, until he heard his father's heavy steps come back up the stairs and his bedroom door shut. He returned to his bathroom and spat out his toothpaste, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand.

This wasn't fair. None of it was fair. Kurt's mind raced through various what-if scenarios. If Blaine dad wasn't an ass all the time, Blaine wouldn't be here. If Blaine hadn't cheated, he might have been there, but he'd be in Kurt's bed right now and not on what he assumed was the couch in the family room. And if Kurt hadn't been so wrapped up in his own life, Blaine wouldn't have cheated. He sat on the bench at the end of his bed, legs crossed in front of him and breathing deeply.

Blaine was just one floor away.

He got up and slowly turned his doorknob, padding down the hallway and down the stairs. He went to the family room and, even through the darkness, he could see Blaine curled up on the couch, staring back at him. He looked exhausted and small, like a little boy and not the man he almost was.

"Kurt..." he breathed out, like he wasn't sure he was real. Kurt came closer and offered him his hand.

"Come on." He said nothing else. He didn't need to. Blaine took his hand, letting him lead him up the stairs to his room. Kurt shut the door behind them and they silently climbed into bed, Kurt on the left, Blaine on the right. Just like always.

They didn't touch. Kurt laid on his side, facing away from Blaine and squeezed his eyes shut. He didn't want to touch him. No more than he already had. They could lay there and sleep without touching. He knew they could. He felt Blaine roll onto his back and he began to relax, letting sleep inch closer.

Then he heard it. A low, choked sob that shook the bed.

He didn't think twice. Kurt rolled onto his back and pulled Blaine to his chest, wrapping his arms around him and letting him cry. Blaine clung to him, gripping his t-shirt and tangling his legs around his as his tears poured from him. Kurt still didn't know what was going on with Blaine and his parents but it really didn't matter. For tonight, he could hold Blaine, whom he still loved in spite of everything, and let him cry it out. They'd figure the rest out later.