Kurt sat down on a chair, apart from the others and not looking at any of his friends as Mr. Schuester called for the Glee Club's attention. He held his binders tightly to his chest, focusing on his breathing. He closed his eyes, trying to banish the image of Karofsky standing over him. The ghost of Karofsky's kiss, his lips pressed hard against his as he stood frozen, startled by the action, followed quickly. Kurt's breath hitched and he jumped when he felt something on his shoulder, his eyes going wide.

"Kurt?" Mercedes was standing nearby, her hand hovering over his arm. Kurt glanced at the rest of the room, seeing everyone standing in front of the piano looking worriedly at him. His gaze returned to his best friend, her expression unsure but concerned. He took a deep breath and offered a wan smile. It took a great effort to release the tight grasp he had on his papers.

"Sorry, where were we?" he asked, thankful his voice didn't crack. Not waiting for an answer, he set his binders on the chair next to him, let his bag fall off his shoulder, and stood, smoothing down his clothes unnecessarily. He resisted the urge to wrap his cardigan around him tighter. Lifting his chin ever so slightly, he got into position, ignoring the fact that everyone still watched him.

Mr. Schuester walked by, patting Kurt on the shoulder in an effort to comfort, and said, "okay, let's take it from the top." Kurt smiled gratefully at the man as Brad began playing.

...

"Kurt? Kurt!" Finn yelled down the hall after the boy. Mr. Schuester had waylaid Finn at the end of class, vaguely saying that Karofsky had said something to Kurt before Glee and asking Finn to make sure he got home okay. Mr. Shuester's promise to talk to Coach Bieste about missing football practice had Finn running down the hall.

Kurt paused, taking a deep breath to push back the tears that were threatening to fall, and turned. He had been sufficiently distracted during rehearsal, but now, he just wanted to avoid another confrontation and get home as soon as possible. He took another deep breath as Finn came to a halt a few steps away. Trying desperately to not let his anxiety show, Kurt waited for Finn to say something.

"Uh," Finn fumbled, gripping the backpack over his right shoulder. Cognizant of the other students milling about, he tried again, quieter. "You okay?"

"Me?" Kurt asked nonchalantly. "I'm fine." Kurt's eyes darted around, his voice carrying a strained edge, and Finn was reminded of how much Kurt kept hidden behind his usual stoic personality.

"Kurt." Finn didn't know what exactly in his tone made the other boy's gaze return to him, eyes wide and shining, but Finn was suddenly face-to-face with more fear than he'd ever seen from Kurt. Finn stared back, his mouth open and his mind spinning at the possible reasons. Kurt blinked after a long moment, looking away. He wrapped his arms tighter around his binders.

"Not here, Finn." Kurt's whisper was more a plea, and Finn came back to the present.

"Let's go home," Finn said, already walking. Glancing sideways to make sure Kurt was next to him, he pushed the doors open to the cool fall afternoon.

"What about practice?" Kurt asked as they neared the car.

"It's cool." Seeing Kurt fumble in his bag, Finn continued. "Why don't I drive?" Retrieving his keys, Kurt looked up at the other boy. Any quip he might have had about his ability to drive died on his lips at Finn's genuinely concerned expression. Kurt sighed resignedly and held the keys out. Finn took them without another word, neither boy acknowledging the way Kurt's hand shook.

...

Kurt leaned back into the passenger seat, closing his eyes with a quiet sigh. The persistent fear that plagued him during school slowly dissipated, as did the tension from his entire body. He still had to force his mind away from the image of a desperate and angry Karofsky, but at least he was free of the paranoia and anxiety for the day.

Finn navigated the short drive home, casting sideways glances at the other boy every so often. When Finn parked in the driveway and cut the engine, Kurt didn't move. Finn was sure he wasn't sleeping, as his fingers were still gripping the binders against his chest.

"Kurt, what happened?" Finn asked gently. Kurt blinked a couple times before turning his head to the side and looking at Finn with tired eyes.

"It's just the usual harassing." Kurt smiled feebly, internally cringing at the frantic edge to his voice.

"It doesn't seem like the usual," Finn countered. Kurt offered another wan smile in reply, but didn't say anything. "Look, if he's hurting you-," Finn trailed off as Kurt lifted his head from the seat, shaking it ever so slightly.

"I don't want you involved," Kurt said tiredly, looking out the window. He could see his reflection, the way his chin trembled at the memory of Karofsky shoving Blaine against the chain link. He didn't want that for any of his other friends.

"Why?" Finn remembered last year, when Kurt had asked him to speak to Karofsky and Azimio, and wondered what had changed.

"I don't want you hurt," Kurt said simply. Finn shifted in his seat.

"Kurt, what the hell? What's he done?" Finn blurted out, frustrated and more concerned than ever.

"Finn, please, stay out of it," Kurt begged, turning wide, pleading eyes on him. Finn's frustration ebbed away at the sight of tears brimming in the other boy's eyes. They looked at each other in silence for a long moment.

"Maybe you should tell Burt," Finn recommended gently. Kurt shook his head again, taking a deep breath to quell his emotions. "Kurt," Finn tried again, not knowing what else to say.

"There's so much to do with the wedding. We should focus on that." Kurt opened the door. He stepped out and turned back to Finn, his eyes clearer and a small, but genuine smile on his face. "Thanks for driving," he said sincerely before shutting the door and heading to the house.

...

Hey. Haven't heard back from you today. Busy with wedding plans? :-) Stay safe.

Kurt smiled at the text from Blaine. After their confrontation with Karofsky almost two weeks ago, Blaine had taken to texting and calling Kurt every day. Kurt surveyed the binders and papers laid out on his bed. He couldn't stifle the tremor that ran through his body at seeing the pile of printouts of various cake options, all with varying decorations on top. He closed his eyes to ward off the reminder and the creeping tension, and took a calming breath. Opening his eyes a few moments later, he grabbed his phone to text back a reply.

How'd you guess? Sorry for the lack of reply. Had another run-in.

Kurt hesitated in sending the text, not wanting to worry Blaine, but feeling the need to tell someone. Blaine was the only one who knew about the kiss, and Kurt trusted him. Pressing the send button, Kurt flopped back onto his pillows. Blaine's reply was immediate.

You okay?

Kurt sighed, his mind warring with pushing today's incident to the back of his mind and wanting to break down, at least for a few minutes. Before he decided, his phone buzzed again. Kurt stared at the screen for a moment, wondering how Blaine knew what he needed before he did.

"Kurt, you okay?" Blaine's worried tone carried through the phone as soon as Kurt picked up. Kurt smiled despite himself, just as he closed his eyes against the rising tears. He let out a shaky breath.

"Hi, Blaine," he greeted, trying to keep his tone light, but failing as he felt and heard his voice breaking.

"Hey," Blaine said softly. Kurt rolled onto his side, careful not to disrupt any of the papers on his bed and pulling a pillow to his chest. Kurt finally let the tears come, feeling them slip past his eyelids and over his cheek. He clutched the pillow tighter as he struggled to breathe evenly.

"You want to tell me what happened?" Blaine asked kindly after several moments, after Kurt's breathing had regulated.

"I'm sorry," Kurt started, his voice rough, "I'm always breaking down on you."

"Don't worry about it," Blaine dismissed lightly. Kurt turned his face into his pillow, letting out a loud sigh.

"It's rather pathetic," Kurt said, voice muffled. Blaine couldn't stifle his chuckle.

"It's not," Blaine asserted, then added, "I'm glad you feel comfortable with me." Kurt settled his cheek back against the pillow, listening to Blaine's even breathing. He did feel comfortable.

"Just the daily terror," Kurt stated after several moments, answering Blaine's earlier question. He knew Blaine would understand.

"Hmm," Blaine replied thoughtfully.

"He took the cake topper. I have no idea why."

"You let him though, right? You didn't push him?" The worry was back in Blaine's voice.

"Yeah," Kurt answered quietly. Both were thinking about the stairs, two weeks ago, where they confronted Karofsky.

"He's confused and scared," Blaine reasoned. "And he's lashing out."

"I know," Kurt let out with a sigh. "He's just so angry."

"Did he hurt you? Touch you?" Blaine asked, panic now lacing his tone.

"No," Kurt answered quickly to allay Blaine's fears, but remembered how Karofsky had pressed a finger into his chest and towered over him. He forced the image out of his mind. "Not really," Kurt added.

"Kurt," Blaine started after another moment of silence, "it's not safe there." He paused, knowing he was repeating himself. "There has to be something, someone who can do something?" Blaine knew the question was useless, had come up with the same problem at his old school. But he asked it like he had asked it the last three times he'd talked to Kurt.

"Mr. Schuester took me to the Principal, to Coach Sylvester, but she can't do anything unless he touches me again. I think they need to have evidence, like a bruise or something." Kurt let bitterness seep through the words, hoping to cover up his anxiety.

"Isn't there any way you can come here? I'm sure the administration-."

"Blaine, we've been over this," Kurt interrupted gently, touched by Blaine's concern. "There's no way we can afford it. I can't do that to my Dad."

"I just-," Blaine trailed off, clearly frustrated. Kurt managed a smile at that.

"I know. And thank you, really." The silence stretched between them. Kurt glanced at his clock-10:43 pm. "Can we talk about something else?" Kurt asked, trying to dispel the somber mood. "I know curfew's soon, but tell me about your day?"

"I've got a few minutes," Blaine answered understandingly, launching into a retelling of the afternoon's Warbler practice, where the boys were still debating song choices for Sectionals. Kurt actually laughed when Blaine tried to explain how he and three other boys had ended up falling over the couch while trying a new dance move. When their laughter died, Blaine asked gently, "you going to be okay?"

"Yeah," Kurt replied with a sigh.

"I'll talk to you tomorrow." It was more a statement than question, and the conviction behind it filled Kurt with a warmth he'd been lacking all day. "Stay safe," Blaine added quietly.

"I will," Kurt assured. "Goodnight, Blaine."

"Goodnight, Kurt." Kurt listened to the click of the phone, watched his screen blink as the call ended. He set the phone down in front of him, and wrapped his arms around the pillow. Not caring that he lay huddled among the various papers, that he hadn't changed clothes, or that he'd not done his nighttime skin care routine, he closed his eyes and let exhaustion lull him to sleep within seconds.

...

Blaine walked quickly down the hall, toward the Dalton Academy administrative offices. He had skipped breakfast in the hopes of catching the Dean before classes started. When he rounded the corner, he slowed down, catching his breath. He hoisted his school bag more securely on his shoulder and stepped into the outside office, smiling at the staff that milled about.

"Hi, Mrs. Williams," he greeted as he walked up to her desk.

"Morning, Blaine. What can I do for you?" the petite woman asked kindly.

"Can I see Dean Shapiro for a few minutes? I have some questions about a potential transfer." Mrs. Williams eyed Blaine. "It's important," he added.

The older woman looked at Blaine for another moment, than scanned her computer screen and glanced through the door to her left before answering, "give me a couple minutes. I'll see what I can do." She gifted Blaine with a smile before standing up and slipping into the inner office.

Blaine looked at the piece of paper he held in his left hand, the paper he had hastily ripped from his notebook earlier this morning after writing down a phone number he'd done a quick internet search for. Blaine nervously paced the small area in front of the desk, worried he was doing the wrong thing but knowing it was the only thing he could do. He had talked to Kurt every day since they had confronted Karofsky, and every day, Kurt seemed more affected by the harassment. It was last night's phone call that finally pushed Blaine into action-the fact that it was the third night Kurt had broken down, and the first night Kurt didn't provide all the details of what Karofsky had done that day.

Mrs. Williams came back out and with a tilt of her head, she said, "go on in."

Blaine gripped the paper tightly, offered a bracing smile, and slipped past the desk.

...

"Hummel Tire and Lube. Burt speaking." Burt cradled the phone against his shoulder as he wiped at his hands with a rag, reaching for a pen.

"Mr. Hummel?" Burt's hands froze at the voice, clearly young and uncertain.

"Yes. Who is this?" Burt replied slowly, now gripping the phone to his ear

"I'm Blaine Anderson." Burt recognized the name and let out a sigh. "I'm a friend of Kurt's."

"From that school in Westerville, right?" Burt couldn't remember the exact name. And why would Blaine, a high school student, be calling in the middle of the morning? Blaine's relieved sigh interrupted Burt's train of thought.

"Yes, Dalton Academy."

"Everything all right, son?" Burt asked. His question was met with silence, and the tension in his shoulders increased. Blaine sighed after a long moment.

"I don't want to betray Kurt's confidences," Blaine prefaced carefully.

"But?" Burt supplied impatiently.

"He's being harassed at school." When Blaine didn't continue, Burt spoke up.

"That's been going on for a while now. Slushies, the pushing, and the words." Burt couldn't bring himself to be more specific. He had known the bullying hadn't stopped, even though Kurt rarely spoke of it. Burt just thought that Kurt had found a way to be impervious, or that it had actually gotten better.

"It's gotten worse," Blaine said vaguely.

"How?" Burt inquired. He thought back to the last several weeks, but he had to be honest, with his heart attack and proposing to Carole, he hadn't been paying much attention. Burt felt the guilt settle in his stomach.

"I, he-," Blaine fumbled. "I don't think he's safe there," the young man finally said.

"Blaine, son, what-," Burt's question was cut off.

"I'm sorry, Mr. Hummel." Blaine sounded truly apologetic. "I can't give you the details. Kurt trusts me," Blaine intoned emphatically. Burt swallowed roughly, quelled his anger, curiosity, and anxiety. He knew it wasn't easy for Kurt to trust others, knew for a fact that he didn't trust anyone other than his father. Until now, it seems. And for that person to recognize and honor Kurt's trust, Burt had to admit, was not something to take for granted.

"I can appreciate that," Burt conceded reluctantly.

"Thank you, sir." There was another silence before Blaine spoke again. "Kurt says he doesn't want to worry you, especially with the wedding, but I think this is important."

"I'll talk to him," Burt said easily. He prided himself when it came to being able to talk to Kurt, knew that Kurt confided in him more than the average teenager did.

"Good." Blaine's relief was palpable, and Burt's anxiety rose. But so did his interest in the boy on the other side of the conversation, who seemed genuinely concerned for Kurt.

"Was there anything else?" Burt asked kindly.

"Yes, well-," Blaine trailed off, not starting again for a couple beats. "Kurt says Dalton is too expensive, but I talked to Dean Shapiro this morning." Burt admired this boy's tact, but didn't have much time to ponder it as Blaine continued. "He says tuition could be pro-rated for mid-year transfers, and that since there's space in the dorms, he can offer room and board at no cost. We keep a pool of uniforms at school, for when we outgrow them so Kurt shouldn't have to buy any. And there are scholarships Kurt can apply for next year."

Burt mulled over the information, marveling at Blaine's thoroughness. But it was worry that overwhelmed him, causing his chest to tighten.

"Is it that bad?" Burt asked fearfully, images of Kurt battered and bruised flashing through his mind. He had read all about the gay bashings and beatings, had learned of all the young men who were seriously injured or had died. His mind brutally conjured an image of a gravestone next to a familiar 10-year old one.

Blaine hesitated before answering, "I think so." Burt's chest tightened even more, and but for the fact that he knew what a heart attack felt like, he might have thought he was having one now.

"I'll talk to him," Burt repeated roughly. His eyes slid to the clock on the wall. He would see Kurt in a couple hours for his dance lesson, and he couldn't be happier to be seeing him so soon.

"I'm sorry to worry you." The panic and doubt surfaced in Blaine's tone. Burt shook his head to banish the images and cleared his throat.

"Don't be, son. I'm glad you said something."

"I should get to class," Blaine said a moment later. Burt took a deep breath.

"Right."

"I have Dean Shapiro's number," Blaine supplied, "if you want it."

"That'd be good," Burt said, grabbing for a pen. Blaine gave him the number and said his goodbye. Before Blaine hung up, Burt spoke up, "Blaine?"

"Yes, sir?"

"It's good Kurt has you as a friend."

"Thank you, sir."

...

"How long has this been going on?" Burt demanded as soon as Kurt and Finn entered the choir room. Kurt hesitated, trying to calm his breathing. Finn had the good sense to close the door behind them. He quietly moved to the other side of the room and closed the other door, but not before scanning the hall to ensure Karofsky was nowhere in sight.

"Dad, you know the bullying has been going on for a while," Kurt replied, moving around the piano. Burt was pacing in front of the row of chairs.

"I thought it was getting better." Burt gave Kurt a tortured look. "You haven't said anything lately."

"Everyone gets bullied. It's just the usual," Kurt tried to placate. He rested his hand on the piano, forcing his fingers not to clench. "It's nothing to worry about, Dad. Please, sit down, you're still recovering" Kurt requested. Burt dropped into a chair, still staring at Kurt.

"If it's nothing to worry about, then why didn't you tell me?" he shot back.

"I knew you'd worry anyway," Kurt countered. "But I'm fine." Kurt pressed his hand against the piano, and stood tall, lifting his chin in what he hoped was a confident manner.

"You're not fine." Kurt turned and glared at Finn, who had stepped closer to the center of the room before speaking up.

"What does that mean?" Burt demanded, standing up again.

"Thanks, Finn," Kurt ground out. He turned back to Burt. "Dad, it's fine." His tone was steady, but he winced at the edge of desperation. Burt looked back at his son, not convinced. "Really," Kurt added, keeping his voice calm.

"No," Finn said loudly. Kurt gripped the edge of the piano, closing his eyes as the tall teenager continued, "whatever Karofsky's doing is different. Mr. Schue noticed it. The girls noticed. Sam got his face messed up because of it." Tension filled the silence that followed.

"Kurt?" Burt's voice wasn't angry, rather, anxious and fearful. Kurt took a deep breath and opened his eyes.

"Fine. It is different," he admitted tiredly, looking at his father's sad eyes. Kurt felt his defenses slip away, but he refrained from sharing any details. As much as he feared Karofsky, he knew outing him would only make him angrier.

"The death threat?" Burt asked quietly. "When did that happen?"

"About two weeks ago," Kurt revealed quietly.

"Were you ever going to tell me?" Kurt winced at the hurt in Burt's voice, tears stinging his eyes. The silence hung around them for a few moments. Burt turned his attention to Finn. "And why didn't you know about this again?" No anger, just resignation.

"It's not Finn's fault," Kurt said quickly. Finn moved closer to Kurt, offering a brief smile. Kurt appreciated the support, already forgiving the other boy. "I didn't tell him. I told him not to get involved. I didn't want him to get hurt."

"And it's okay if you get hurt?" Father and son looked at each other. Tears clouded Burt's vision as the question hung between them, images that his mind had conjured earlier in the day flashing through his mind.

"I'm sorry," Kurt whispered, his own tears brimming. Finn shuffled his feet in the quiet, stepping closer to Kurt. Burt shook his head, mimicking Finn's action. He laid a hand on Kurt's shoulder and looked him in the eyes.

"Doesn't matter. We're going to talk to the principal," Burt said authoritatively, "and that kid. What's his name again?"

"David Karofsky," Finn supplied. Kurt looked away, blinking back tears and taking a deep breath.

"Okay. I'm going to go take care of that. I don't want you anywhere in this school without at least one of your friends." Burt spared a glance at Finn, who nodded. "And I want you to call me if anything happens, okay?" Burt squeezed Kurt's shoulder and Kurt looked up. "Anything," Burt emphasized. Kurt nodded, not trusting his voice. With one last squeeze, Burt headed out the door.

...

Carole padded up the stairs, coming from a talk with Finn. She had spent several minutes consoling her son, who paced the basement bedroom, still upset over the seriousness of Kurt's situation. He had promised to keep an eye on the other boy from now on, had insisted the rest of the Glee Club would assist him, and had sworn that Karofsky wouldn't get another chance at Kurt. Carole appreciated his determination and his concern for his soon-to-be stepbrother; she told him so, but she also cautioned Finn about confronting the bully. When Finn had dropped onto the bed next to her, looking tired and haggard, Carole patted his knee and offered a smile. She stood, kissed him on the forehead, and wished him goodnight.

Now in the dark hallway, Carole paused at Kurt's door, seeing light coming from the space between door and floor. She didn't have to lean any closer to hear the sobs coming from within. She lifted her hand to knock on the door, wanting to console the boy, but paused when Kurt spoke.

"He looked so hurt, and I just couldn't-," Kurt trailed off , struggling to breathe. "What if he has another heart attack? He's supposed to be getting married this weekend." The desperation was clear in Kurt's shaky voice. Realizing Kurt was worrying about his father to the point of tears, Carole felt tears stinging her own eyes.

Kurt's sobs seemed to quiet, as if he was trying to listen. Carole held her breath, deducing that Kurt was talking on the phone.

"What if it just makes it worse?" Kurt asked fearfully, sniffling. Another pause, then a teary laugh. "Did you really just use the phrase 'can of whoop-ass'?" Carole breathed in and out.

"I can't sleep," Kurt admitted, voice still rough with emotion and laced with fatigue. "Blaine, I'm not six," he admonished a moment later, paused, then relented. "Fine." Carole heard Kurt shifting on the bed, a click, and the line of light under the door extinguished. "Ready," Kurt said softly.

Carole heard the strumming of a guitar, the slow acoustic melody slightly muffled by the door. Then she heard Blaine's soft voice accompanying the guitar.

A place to crash
I got you
No need to ask
I got you
Just get on the phone
I got you
Come and pick you up if I have to

Kurt's soft cries and sniffles punctuated the guitar chords that continued without Blaine. Carole strained to hear as Blaine's voice returned several moments later, even quieter than before.

Go ahead and say goodnight
You'll be alright
Go ahead, turn out the light
You'll be alright
And when you need a place to run to
For better for worse
I got you
I got you

Blaine's voice disappeared again, letting the melody play out through the guitar. Kurt's breathing seemed more at ease, only sniffling once before the music slowed. Carole heard Blaine's now familiar voice resurface, but he was again quieter. She gave up on the words, but stood there for several minutes, letting the sound of the guitar soothe her heart and mind. She was pulled out of her reverie when the she heard Blaine's voice, absent the guitar accompaniment, filled with tenderness and caring.

"Stay safe, Kurt. Sleep well, my prince."

...

Carole slipped into her and Burt's bedroom, smiling encouragingly at Burt. Sitting on the bed, propped up on the pillows, the blanket bunched at his feet, Burt held up a small stack of papers.

"They have a 'zero tolerance, no bullying' policy," he said, pointing at the printout on top. "Says so on the first page of their website." Carole rounded the bed, and sat down, leaning against the pillows and headboard. She leaned closer to Burt, squeezing his arm affectionately. He quirked a smile, handing her the papers.

"Did you manage to talk to the dean this afternoon?" Carole asked, scanning the printouts. Burt had called her that afternoon, on his way back to the shop, and filled her in on the day's events. Burt nodded.

"That kid, Blaine, was pretty thorough." Burt held up another piece of paper, this one filled with Burt's familiar handwriting. "He had all the details right."

"He's a good kid, special," Carole emphasized the last word.

"Yeah," Burt agreed tiredly. Carole looked at him quizzically and he continued. "The dean said that Dalton has a policy that allows kids in Kurt's situation to attend, even if there's no room. He implied that Blaine came to the school under the same policy." Carole let out a sigh, and leaned her head on Burt's shoulder. Burt pressed a brief but comforting kiss to her temple.

"How can people be so cruel?" she asked, knowing neither she nor Burt had the answer.

Burt remained silent, contemplating the notes he had taken. Carole lifted her head, watching him. Finally, she pressed a palm to his cheek, drawing his attention.

"What are you thinking?" Carole asked, letting her hand slide down his chest and settle over his heart. She watched the sadness settle in Burt's eyes.

"It's almost two hours away."

"It is," she acknowledged gently. Burt looked back down.

"I'm going to miss him," he admitted after a long moment.

"I know," Carole said sadly, "but if it's what he needs-." She let her words trail off, knowing Burt didn't need to hear any reasoning, any excuses. He'd already made up his mind, and Carole couldn't agree more. "We still have to see what happens tomorrow," she supplied, trying to be optimistic.

"I just-," Burt started, sounding lost. "I'm just going to miss him," he repeated in a whisper. Carole pressed her palm to Burt's cheek again and pressed her lips lightly against his, wanting to take away at least some of his fear and sadness. She pulled away a moment later only to press her forehead against his. Burt kept his eyes closed.

"He'll be safe," she asserted. "And he loves you so much." Burt let out a sigh, opening his eyes. "We'll make it work," she added determinedly, gaining a small smile from him.

...

Blaine paced the small space between his bed and desk, glancing at the phone grasped in his right hand every couple of minutes. Letting out a frustrated sigh after several minutes of this, he sat down on the edge of his bed. He stared at his cell, tapping the screen a few times. Blaine had sent his daily text to Kurt during lunch; Kurt had replied a couple hours later. Now Blaine stared at Kurt's last message, willing more information to appear.

Thanks. Off to meet with Karofsky. I'll call you later.

Blaine had sent another text wishing him luck and pleading with him to be careful. Blaine checked the time-it was only 9:30 pm. They usually spoke later, right before Dalton's 11:00 pm curfew. Blaine stood up again. Resisting the urge to grab his keys and completely throw curfew out the window, he moved to his desk and scanned his homework. He had managed to finish his assignments for tomorrow, but knew he would have a lot of catching up to do; he hadn't even begun the English essay due at the end of the week or the History project for Monday.

Blaine resumed his pacing, only to drop back onto the bed with another sigh after a few minutes. He knew his decision to talk to Kurt's father was the right one, but he had felt so guilty when Kurt had called last night in tears. Kurt had shared how Burt had confronted Karofsky, and how Burt had set up a meeting with the bully and his father for today. More upsetting to the boy, however, was how all this would affect his father's health. Blaine had fought his own tears at how much Kurt feared another heart attack and dreaded spending more time in the hospital.

Despite sharing his concern with Burt, Blaine hadn't felt the sense of responsibility or worry lessen. Rather, the worry grew as Blaine had gone through the day, and had nearly paralyzed him when he had first read Kurt's text. He sat through the Warbler meeting in silence, constantly turning his phone over in his hands, as the tension seeped into every muscle. So consumed by his anxiety, Blaine hadn't even heard Wes end the meeting, only becoming aware of his surroundings when the other boys were gathering their bags and leaving. He had grabbed his own bag then and quickly made his way to his room.

Blaine flopped back onto his bed, still clutching his phone. He closed his eyes, forcing his body to relax and focusing on his breathing. With another glance at the clock-9:54 pm, he took a deep breath and pulled up his contact list on his cell.

"Hi, Blaine," Kurt's greeting came after four rings, his voice a hoarse whisper. Blaine took a deep breath at the tears he heard in Kurt's voice.

"Hey," Blaine said gently. Kurt didn't reply immediately, his shaky breathing telling Blaine he was still crying. Blaine's chest tightened; he hoped he hadn't made things worse by calling Kurt's father and that the meeting with Karofsky went smoothly. Blaine sat up and rested his elbows on his knees, pressing his free hand over his eyes.

"I'm sorry. I said I would call, but I was just trying-," Kurt trailed off, the unmistakable sound of sobbing coming over the line. Blaine stood, almost making it to his keys before he willed his hand to drop from the dresser. He clutched desperately at his phone.

"I should apologize," he blurted out, not knowing what else to say. "I got impatient." That managed to get a laugh out of Kurt and Blaine sighed in relief. Kurt let out a shaky breath, laughing again. Blaine felt the tension in his shoulders ebb. They let the silence hang between them for a moment.

"He's gone, suspended," Kurt offered quietly. His voice was clearer, but Blaine could still hear the tears.

"Are you upset about that?" Blaine asked, confused.

Kurt let out another chuckle before answering, "relief, I think."

"Good," Blaine said as he sat down again, his own relief palpable.

"I'm sorry," Kurt said again after a beat, his voice sounding stronger.

"You apologize too much," Blaine chastised gently. Kurt huffed at that. "You don't have to apologize for being you." Blaine cringed at his words, at the sappiness.

"You get that from a fortune cookie?" Kurt asked, a hint of humor in his tone.

"Something like that." Kurt chuckled softly, eliciting a smile from Blaine. The two fell silent for a long moment, the mood still somber.

"Hey," Blaine was the first to break the reverie. "How are the wedding plans? Did you get the caterer you wanted?" That seemed to alleviate any remaining tension, and both boys felt their moods lighten. Kurt launched into a retelling of his successful negotiation with the caterers, getting the late booking fee waived, and what he had decided on for the menu. Blaine occasionally interjected with words of disbelief and approval, laughed along with Kurt, and found himself smiling more than he had in the last few days.

...

"Kurt?" Finn let the door swing shut as he glanced around the dimly lit kitchen.

"He's in the back. Offered to help clean up," one of the caterers informed Finn as she walked by with the last of her equipment. Finn nodded his thanks and walked around the bank of ovens, still hearing the soft rumbling of the music through the closed door.

Kurt stood by the sink, his suit jacket absent and his shirtsleeves rolled up. He was slowly wiping down the counters, a small bucket sitting on the counter.

"Kurt?" Finn called again, coming up behind the shorter teenager.

Kurt turned and, folding the towel absently, asked, "what do you need?" Kurt's eyes were red, but Finn found no evidence of distress on the other boy's expression.

"Mom and Burt are getting ready to leave."

"I'll be right there," Kurt said, reaching for the bucket and moving down the counter.

"Hey," Finn said, getting Kurt's attention again. "You okay?" Kurt hesitated before gifting Finn with a genuine smile, despite the tears that clouded his vision.

"Yes, for the first time in a long while, I am." The two boys looked at each other for a moment, Finn's lips quirking into a smile.

"Here," Finn said, stepping closer and holding his hand out. "I'll give you a hand."

Kurt eyed him for a moment before pulling another towel out of the bucket of water, squeezing out the excess water, and handing it to Finn. With a smirk, Kurt pointed to the counter along the other wall. The boys worked in companionable silence, finishing the task quickly. When Kurt had collected the towels and rinsed out the bucket, he retrieved his jacket from a hook by the sink. Finn held the door open as Kurt unrolled his sleeves and slipped the jacket back on.

As they left the kitchen, Kurt looked at the taller teenager with a smile and quietly said, "thanks, Finn." Finn returned the smile easily and the two headed toward the newlyweds.

...

"Hey, Kurt, wait up a second. There's something we want to talk to you about." Kurt turned at Burt's words, looking between his father and Carole curiously.

"We think you should go to Dalton Academy," Carole spoke up. Kurt stepped closer, ignoring the students milling about.

"What are you talking about? We can't afford that," Kurt said quietly.

"We can," Burt asserted. "With all the saving we've been doing for a new house, and the money for the honeymoon, it'll work."

Kurt shook his head, ignoring the bubble of hope rising within him, "Dad, no, you and Carole can't give up your honeymoon." Kurt ignored the hand Carole placed on his arm, refusing to be swayed or comforted. "You can't use the house down payment," he added desperately, his eyes shining.

"Kurt, we don't have to use it all. And there's no hurry," Burt placated. "We can always take a honeymoon later. Heck, with the renovation we did over the summer, we don't even need a new house right now. Maybe just a bit more work." Burt added the last comment in an attempt to joke, but his smirk died on his lips when Kurt's eyes only widened further.

"I-," Kurt started, the tears threatening. Carole squeezed his arm. "I can't. It's too much," he choked out. Kurt looked away from the adults, blinking the tears away. It wasn't just the money, it was too much to hope for, that he could escape the crippling fear he experienced daily. Carole and Burt shared a glance, laced with worry.

"We've talked to the Dean," Carole started, waiting for Kurt's attention to refocus. When his eyes fell on hers, she offered a smile. "Tuition will be prorated, and he's offered room and board for free. You won't even have to buy the uniform." Carole squeezed his arm again. "And there are quite a few scholarships we can apply for next year."

"There's an opening. You can transfer immediately," Burt added. Kurt merely stared at his father, eyes brimming with tears again, the hope slowly seeping into his consciousness. Burt pulled him into a hug then, wrapping warm, strong arms around his son. Kurt fell into the embrace gratefully, pressing his face into Burt's shoulder.

"I can't lose you. I won't," Burt asserted, aching with the knowledge of how much pain and fear Kurt had been carrying these last few weeks. "I love you," Burt whispered roughly, squeezing his arms tighter when Kurt took a shaky breath.

"I love you too," Kurt affirmed, voice thick with tears. He rested his cheek against his father's shoulder, letting his breathing slow.

"How?" Kurt asked after several moments, lifting his head as he and Burt separated. Kurt reached for Carole's hand, which she gladly offered. She pressed a warm palm to his cheek, gently brushing away the last of his tears with her thumb.

"I talked to your friend Blaine. Well, he called actually," Burt offered. Kurt looked at him quizzically.

"What did he say?" Kurt asked slowly. Burt took a moment before answering, feeling oddly protective of the young man who clearly cared for Kurt.

"He wouldn't give me any details about the bullying, if that's what you're worried about. But he did tell me about Dalton. He was the one who found out about all our options, gave me Dean Shapiro's number." Burt paused, ensuring Kurt wasn't upset at his new friend, and added, "he seems like a good kid. I'm glad he'll be a friendly face at that new school."

"He's become a good friend," Kurt admitted, a small smile gracing his lips. Carole and Burt shared a smile at the slight flush that appeared on Kurt's cheeks.

Carole squeezed his hand again, bringing Kurt's attention back to her, and said, "we should see what paperwork we need to fill out here." She smiled ruefully knowing Glee Club was rehearsing this period, "do you want to say goodbye to everyone?" Kurt's face paled again but he nodded. "We'll see you at the principal's office." With another squeeze, Carole let Kurt's hand go.

He turned and headed down the hallway, leaving Carole and Burt in the empty hallway. They shared a look, before Burt wrapped an arm around Carole's shoulders and pulled her close.

"Thank you," he whispered, lips ghosting against her temple in a light kiss. "I love you."

"I love you," Carole returned, smiling, "and Kurt." Burt pressed another kiss to her temple before pulling away. Entwining their fingers, they set off down the hall.