It started on an early Sunday morning in mid-January, when Blaine woke to the sound of buzzing. Fumbling for his phone in the darkness, he managed to catch the bright neon-green of his alarm clock from the corner of his eyes.

6:54 AM.

Blaine frowned, irritated at being woken so early on a Sunday, and wondered who could possibly be texting him and why. It took another full minute for him to finally grab hold of his phone and, once he managed a good look at the screen and saw Kurt's name flashing ominously across the screen, his irritation faded to worry.

Had something happened? Why else would Kurt, who was far less of a morning person than Blaine himself, be texting him so early?

Blaine stared down at his phone for a good three minutes, a flurry of scenarios and thoughts flittering through his mind, before finally gathering the courage to flip it open.

We're through.

Blaine stared at the text for what seemed like hours, not moving from the curled-up position he had been in when he first opened it, unable to come up with any sort of well-formed response.

He'd never pegged Kurt for the type to dump someone over text.

By the time Monday rolled around, Blaine was no closer to figuring out what had happened to make Kurt leave him than he had been the morning before.

It was glaringly apparent that everyone else knew, though, if the way that they were treating him was of any indication.

Artie had rolled over his foot twice that morning, without apology. Tina and Sam refused to acknowledge him when he tried to say hello. Finn and Puck had both pushed him, rather roughly, into two consecutive lockers. He didn't speak any Spanish, but even Blaine was smart enough to guess that the words that Santana had angrily spewed at him, just before getting her own surprisingly painful shove in, weren't endearments of any sort.

All that, and Blaine had only been in the building for a total of eleven minutes.

As the day continued on, Blaine's treatment continued to degenerate. Rory, the only glee club member that Blaine shared Chemistry with, had moved to another table and left him without a partner. Brittany, who clearly had absolutely no idea what was going on, but was far too kind to physically hurt him like Santana had, took her lead from Sam and Tina and simply ignored him. Sugar, the only glee club member that he shared his lunch period with (and therefore the person he usually sat with) sat at a different table, leaving Blaine to sit at their normal table by himself.

Kurt, like Brittany, Tina, and Sam, ignored his existence.

Mercedes and Rachel, on the other hand, were more than happy to be vocal with their thoughts about Blaine. They took the seats behind him in study hall, and spent the entirety of the period making cruel remarks about everything from his bow-ties to his hair.

And although he couldn't prove it, Blaine was fairly sure one of the two girls had called him a slut, their words far too low at that point in their discussion for him to be entirely sure.

When the bell finally rang, Blaine practically ran for his car, immensely glad that the day was over; normally there would be glee practice right about now, but Blaine was in no mood to attend.

And he had the nagging feeling that no one really wanted him there, anyway.

Blaine arrived at McKinley early the next morning, hoping desperately to get make it to his first class without having a run-in with the members of New Directions.

He was so intent on getting to AP English that he wasn't paying attention to his surroundings, and never noticed the person rounding the corner in front of him. The two collided rather painfully, both falling to the ground in a mess of limbs and personal belongings.

"I'm so sorry," Blaine said, not looking at the other person, desperately hoping that it wasn't one of his so-called friends. He moved around quickly, trying to gather his belongings and escape.

Just before he could stand and flee, a hand shot out and grabbed his wrist, stilling him. Blaine took a deep breath and turned his head to find himself staring into bright hazel eyes.

"Are you all right, Blaine?" Mr. Schue asked after a moment, studying him closely. "And don't worry about knocking into me…I can't even begin to tell you the amount of times that Sue has sent me flying to the ground in this hallway."

Blaine gave him a small smile. "I'm fine."

Mr. Schue didn't look convinced, but instead of pestering Blaine for a better answer, the Spanish teacher simply stood and held out a hand to him. "We – I missed you in practice yesterday," he said once Blaine had taken his hand.

Blaine, who was not at all stupid, immediately noticed the slip in the older man's language. I. Not we. Mr. Schuester had missed him, yes, but apparently the other members of the club had been more than happy to not have him around.

"I'm not feeling very well," Blaine lied.

Mr. Schue looked at him for a long moment, clearly unconvinced, and Blaine suddenly realized that he knew. He knew why Kurt had broken up with Blaine, had apparently heard the others talking about it.

Blaine panicked, not wanting to be ostracized by his teacher on top of everything else, and it was only Mr. Schue's firm grip on his arm that kept him from fleeing.

"Calm down, Blaine," the curly-haired man said soothingly. "I don't believe what the others are saying at all. It seems rather out of character for you, from what I've seen."

Blaine relaxed at that, glad to know at least one person thought he was innocent of whatever he had been accused of. Almost as soon as the thought had crossed his mind, though, Blaine realized that he still didn't know what it was that he had supposedly done.

"Mr. Schue," he said hesitantly. "What, exactly, are they saying that I–"

Blaine's question was cut short by a loud shout of, "Schuester!"

Mr. Schue sighed loudly as Sue Sylvester's tall, and slightly terrifying, form came into view. "I'm sorry, Blaine, but it looks like I have to run."

"I just caught Vampira, Fake Boobs, and Hot Wheels messing with Burt Reynold's locker," Coach Sylvester said loudly as she came to a halt in front of them.

"You what?"

Coach Sylvester peered around Mr. Schue to see look at Blaine, who had just spoken, apparently just realizing that Mr. Schuester wasn't alone.

"Speak of the devil," she said, looking amused. "I have no idea what you did to my Porcelain, other gay, but it must have been bad. Schuester's happy-go-lucky dancing and singing battalion is out for your blood."

"I haven't –"

"I have yet to decide if I'm angry or impressed that you've made everyone hate you this much in such a short amount of time," Coach Sylvester continued, ignoring Blaine's attempt to speak and casting him a small glare. "That's the only reason why I haven't ended you, Reynolds."

Blaine stared.

Mr. Schue coughed loudly and cast Blaine an apologetic look. "I'm sorry, but it looks like I have to go deal with this," he said. "Just know that you aren't as alone as you think you are, Blaine."

Before Blaine could think to ask Mr. Schue what he meant by that, the two adults were already gone.

By the time that Friday morning rolled around, Blaine could honestly say that he had never been this miserable in his life; well, at least, not since he had first transferred to Dalton.

He tried very not to think of his time at Westerville High. That led to thoughts about the Sadie Hawkins dance, his time in the hospital, Parker's – the poor boy who had been unfortunate enough to attend said dance with Blaine – funeral, the blame his angry family had put on Blaine, and a whole boatload of other things that Blaine tried very, very hard to not think about on a daily basis.

As bad as things were here at McKinley right now, he had to admit that it was still more tolerable than his pre-Dalton school life had been.

That wasn't saying much.

Over the course of Friday, Blaine had become forcefully acquainted with five new lockers. He'd found his own locker stuffed full of musty old cat toys (that had to be Brittany, he thought to himself, because who else would come up with such a ridiculous form of torture?), he'd heard the word "slut" thrown around more times than he could count, and he'd had his foot run over no less than three times.

He had also been slushied twice; once by the jocks, and once by a laughing Santana and Puck.

The worst part hadn't been the icy-cold slushy itself, or even the fact that two people who were supposed to be his friends had done it. No, the worst part had been that Kurt – who had been standing less than twenty feet away, flanked as usual by Mercedes and Rachel – had made absolutely no attempt whatsoever to stop it from happening.

At least he hadn't laughed like Rachel and Mercedes had, though. Blaine wasn't quite sure if he could handle that.

So, by the end of what had been a very long day, Blaine didn't think that things could get any worse.

That is, until he was forcefully pulled into an empty classroom against his will.

Blaine wanted to scream, was going to scream, but a small hand immediately clamped down, rather forcefully, over his mouth and prevented him from doing so. Somewhere behind them, Blaine could hear a second figure closing and locking the classroom door.

"Calm down," a familiar voice hissed. "We aren't going to hurt you!"

Blaine was about to do the very opposite of that when he suddenly recognized the voice in question.

"Qudhifnd?" Blaine mumbled, confused, the hand around his mouth muffling the name.

The small figure pressed against his back paused for just a second. When Blaine made no attempt to fight or flee, the figure pulled their hand from his mouth and stepped away.

Blaine turned around immediately to find himself face-to-face with Quinn Fabray.

"Hello Blaine," she said, smiling slightly. The smile was meant to reassure him, but Blaine had heard enough about Quinn from a number of sources to know that she hadn't been at the top of the food chain for naught. There was, after all, a reason that she had managed to beat Santana out for most popular and feared girl in the school. He was fully aware that when Quinn wanted to, she could be as mean as – if not worse than – Santana and Kurt combined.

"Mike and I just want to talk with you," she continued, her voice soft, almost as though she were trying to soothe a wild animal.

At Mike's name, Blaine looked past Quinn's shoulder and saw a rather dejected-looking Mike Chang standing guard by the door. Mike didn't say anything, but he did give Blaine a small smile.

A small part of Blaine wanted to flee, convinced that this was all an elaborate set-up and that the rest of New Directions would filter in at any moment to harass him further. But he held his ground, determined to see this conversation through, because the bigger part of him didn't believe that would happen; after all, Quinn and Mike were the only two members of New Directions who had not harassed Blaine over the course of the past week.

In fact, Quinn had quietly warned him not to go by the art room on Wednesday, because Finn and Puck were lurking about and waiting for him. And on Thursday, Mike had given Blaine his extra gym clothes when all three pairs of Blaine's had mysteriously disappeared that morning.

Blaine finally nodded at Mike before fixing his gaze back on the small blonde. "Talk about what?"

"We were going to ask you if it was true," Quinn said, her voice dry and slightly sarcastic. "Because neither of us think you would do that to Kurt and, unlike our teammates, we're intelligent enough to get both sides."

Blaine blinked.

At the lack of a defense or confirmation from Blaine, both Quinn and Mike narrowed their eyes at him. Almost as quickly as it started, though, Mike's face morphed into one of confusion as he noticed Blaine's facial expression.

"Blaine," he said tentatively. "Do you even know what's going on?"

After a second of hesitation, Blaine shook his head.

"How can you not know?" Quinn demanded angrily, pushing a piece of her short blonde hair back behind her ear.

"Kurt broke up with me over text on Sunday morning," Blaine answered rather dejectedly. "And no one has spoken to me since then…well, unless it's to insult me."

His two friends – were they his friends? Did Blaine even have any friends left at McKinley? – exchanged a long look before turning their attention back to Blaine.

"There is a rumor going around that you cheated on Kurt," Quinn said finally, her voice surprisingly gentle, as she took a seat on the desk beside Blaine.

In retrospect, Blaine knew that the expression on his face was stupid, but he couldn't quite bring himself to shut his mouth.

"Well that proves us right," Quinn said dryly. "No one could possibly fake looking that shocked."

Mike inched his way towards them, speaking as he moved. "Kurt, Mercedes, Finn, and Rachel apparently ran into some boys from Dalton on Saturday night," he said softly. "They said that they had heard you were sleeping with another boy from Dalton–Cedric, I think?"

"Sebastian," Quinn corrected. "They said his name was Sebastian."

It took exactly two hours and forty-seven minutes for Blaine to drive to Dalton.

The forty-seven extra minutes that have been allotted for this particular drive could be fully attributed to Mike and Quinn, Blaine's apparently self-appointed new best friends. Not that he was going to argue that status, really, because Mike and Quinn have been kinder to him in the last few hours than most people in New Directions had been in the last few months.

And, honestly, Blaine sort of could see himself being best friends with the two one day.

But that was a story for another time.

So, Blaine spent the first twenty minutes after their revelation arguing with Mike, who didn't want Blaine to go to Dalton at all, because he thought that it would only make things worse. And once that argument was finished (Blaine won), he had to spend the next twenty-seven minutes arguing with Quinn, who demanded that she be allowed to go with him.

Blaine lost that argument rather spectacularly, if he did say so himself, because not only did Quinn end up accompanying him, but so did Mike.

As such, it was nearly six in the evening by the time that Blaine pulled his car into the Dalton parking lot. To his immense luck, the Warblers were already standing outside, gathered around David's car, smiling and laughing.

Blaine put the car into park, but didn't bother to turn it off. He was far too busy pulling his door open and storming angrily towards the group. Somewhere behind him, Blaine could hear the engine turn off, and he assumed that Quinn had probably pulled his keys from the ignition. A second later, two more doors slammed shut, and the sound of running told Blaine that his two friends were trying desperately to catch up to him.

Thad, who was standing towards the back of the group, was the first one to notice Blaine. A bright smile spread across his face as he waved at the former Warbler, but his excited smile quickly dimmed as he noticed Blaine's furious expression.

"Blaine?" he said, confused. "What are you doing here?"

At the sound of Blaine's name falling from Thad's lips, the rest of the group quieted and turned, almost as one, to look at their former member.

Blaine, however, only had eyes for the tall, smirking boy standing closest to the car.

"Sebastian," Blaine said, having to practically force the name through his gritted teeth, "I need to talk to you. Now."

Sebastian smiled widely, a look of triumph flittering across his face. "Of course," he practically purred, smoothly weaving his way through the boys standing between them like a snake. "Why don't we go somewhere more private?"

"I think that right here is fine, actually," replied Blaine, his voice cold and harsh.

Sebastian faltered slightly at that, apparently not having expected that sort of reaction, but recovered quickly. "Sure thing, Blaine Warbler –"

"Don't you dare call me that!" Blaine shouted loudly, his fingers clenched so tightly that he could feel the nails digging painfully into the skin of his palm. "Only my friends at McKinley get to call me that, Sebastian! Or at least, they would if I had any fucking friends left there."

Many of the Warblers stared at Blaine with almost comically wide eyes, having never heard their former-lead cuss like that before. David, who was still one of Blaine's best friends and therefore knew him and his temper better than almost anyone, took a hesitant step forward.

"Want to tell me what's going on here, Blaine?" he said quietly, giving his friend a searching look.

Blaine took a deep breath, his gaze moving from Sebastian to David, and then right back to Sebastian. "Did you start a rumor that we slept together?"

Sebastian paled slightly at the open accusation, and that was all the confirmation that Blaine really needed. Of course, Sebastian didn't know that, so he tried to defend himself.

"Of course not," he said, voice soft and oozing sincerity. "Would I do something like that?"

"I think you would, actually," Quinn said suddenly, scowling at Sebastian from her place between Mike and Thad. "Look, I'm going to be frank with you. I'm an accomplished liar, and I know that sugary tone of voice you just used is fake, because I've used it myself numerous times to get what I want from people."

Blaine, who personally found girls really confusing and strange, quickly made a mental note to disregard anything Quinn ever said to him in that tone of voice. He then turned his attention back to Sebastian.

"Why would you do that to me?" he asked, the anger draining from his voice. Now, all he felt was sadness and an immense headache coming on. "I thought that we were friends."

"I never wanted to just be your friend," Sebastian said snidely. "I wanted to fuck you, Anderson. Still do, actually."

"He's such a pretentious dick," Jeff mumbled from somewhere to the left.

"I hope Blaine punches him," Nick murmured back. "I'd pretend I didn't see it."

Blaine frowned at him. "So, because I turned you down, you started a rumor about us?"

Sebastian just shrugged, clearly not seeing anything wrong with what he had done. "No one turns me down," he said snidely. Then, almost as an afterthought, he admitted, "except, apparently, for you. I had to save face somehow, so I told some of the guys at Scandals and a few of the guys here that we had slept together. It's no big deal."

Now that Blaine thought about it, he had noticed that a few of the Warblers had looked guilty upon his initial arrival. To Blaine's immense relief, he could tell from their reactions that Nick, Jeff, Thad, and David – his closest friends left in the Warblers – had not been involved.

"No big deal?" Blaine repeated dully. A fit of anger hit him in that moment and, without really thinking about it, he threw his coat to the snow-covered ground and pulled his sweater and undershirt off, not caring about the fact that it was freezing out.

Someone made a strangled noise when Blaine's back and torso came into view, and even Sebastian looked disgusted by the myriad of bruises that covered him.

"I've been thrown into twenty-nine lockers this week," Blaine said quietly. "No one will speak to me, unless they're insulting me. Someone stole my gym clothes. Someone else broke into my locker on Tuesday and took my textbooks."

David swallowed loudly. "Blaine, I –"

"I found old cat toys in my locker. I've had slushies thrown in my face," he continued. "One boy threw me in a dumpster, Sebastian. A fucking dumpster! I have a grand total of two friends left at McKinley, and my boyfriend has dumped me because he thinks I'm a cheating slut."

Sebastian simply stared at Blaine, an unreadable look on his face.

"So yeah," Blaine finished, bending down to pick up his discarded shirts and coat. He let out a small hiss at the movement before straightening up again and fixing the Warbler with a piercing look. "I think it is a big deal. And while I won't blame you for the behavior of others – Kurt and everyone else made their own decision to believe you – it is undeniable that the rumor you created set this in motion."

"I –"

"Save it," Blaine said tiredly. "I hope you're happy, Sebastian. You've inadvertently made my life miserable. And guess what? You still won't get to fuck me. Have a nice life."

Very slowly, Blaine made his way back to his car. He blatantly ignored the murmurs, whispering, and angry looks that were being directed at Sebastian.

He had said his piece.

He was halfway to his car when he felt a warm presence on his left, and icy cold fingers wrap around his right hand.

"Are you all right?" Quinn asked quietly, resting her head on his right shoulder, careful to avoid the bruises that marred his skin.

"No," Blaine said. "I'm not."

Mike, the warm and comforting presence on his left side, hesitated for just a moment before holding out a dry hoodie. "I took it off while you were stripping," he said wryly. "I figured it might do you some good to wear some actual dry clothes while driving."

Blaine couldn't help but smile at that. "Thanks," he said, grabbing the hoodie with his free hand. "Are you sure you don't need it?"

"I have a coat in the car," Mike replied, smiling back.

Quinn let go of Blaine's hand when they arrived at his car and pulled away. "Now what are you going to do?"

Blaine shrugged at her before sliding into the driver's seat. "I don't know."

It ended on an early Monday morning in late-January, when Blaine woke to the sound of buzzing. Fumbling for his phone in the darkness, he managed to catch the bright neon-green of his alarm clock from the corner of his eyes.

6:21AM.

Blaine frowned, irritated about being woke up nine minutes before his alarm went off. Eventually, he forced himself to look at his phone and saw Rachel's name flash across the screen. After a quick moment of deliberation, he flipped it over and read the text.

Glee practice this afternoon! Make sure to be there – we missed you last week! :)

Blaine stared at the screen for a full minute before carelessly chucking it towards the wall and curling back up in his still-warm comforter.

After spending the majority of his day dodging the members of the glee club and their numerous attempts to engage him, Blaine walked into the English hall to see Brittany standing nervously beside his locker. A few feet away, Mike and Quinn were standing beside a fire extinguisher, watching the blonde closely.

He gave them a reassuring smile and stopped just in front of Brittany.

"Can I help you, Brittany?" he asked, trying desperately to keep his tone even. If there was one person in the entire group who probably couldn'tnecessarily be held entirely accountable for their actions the past week, then it was most likely Brittany.

She nodded excitedly. "Santana said I was allowed to talk to you again this morning," she said cheerfully. "I wanted to know if your cat liked his presents!"

Blaine, who had been in the process of opening his locked, paused. "My cat?"

"Mercedes said you were a pussy," Brittany said, biting at her lip. "I wasn't sure what that meant, so I looked it up and apparently it meant you were a cat. But that's stupid, because people can't be cats, so I realized she must have meant that you had a cat!"

Further down the hall, Quinn buried her face in her hands and sighed. Mike just looked extremely confused, much like how Blaine felt in that moment.

"You thought I had a cat?" Blaine said finally, puzzle pieces suddenly clicking together. He had wondered about the way Brittany had ignored him all week, because it wasn't like her, and the odd choice in prank she had settled on.

Of course, now he knew that it apparently hadn't been a prank, but an honest attempt to help Blaine's non-existent cat.

There was still one thing bothering him, though.

"Santana said you were allowed to talk to me now?" Blaine asked. "You mean you weren't before?"

Brittany nodded sadly. "I wanted to talk with you because you looked sad," she said. "But Santana told me you were cursed. And then Rachel said that if I talked to you, Lord Tubbington would…he would die. But I still wanted to help your cat, so I put cat toys in your locker for you!"

Blaine stared at Brittany, slack-jawed.

A second later, the confusion and bewilderment he was feeling was replaced with cold, hard rage. Blaine stopped himself from lashing out, though, knowing that Brittany did not deserve his anger.

"Thank you for the cat toys," he said softly, giving her a small smile. "Brittany…I think you should consider skipping glee practice later."

The blonde tilted her head to the side in confusion. "Why?"

"I'm going to be saying some things," he said after a moment. "Things that apparently don't apply to you, and I don't want you to be there when it happens because you'll get upset."

Brittany chewed on her lip for a moment, considering. After a moment, though, she brightened considerably. "Okay," she said. "But you have to let me bring Lord Tubbington over to your house so that our cats can have a play date!"

"Of course," Blaine agreed, not really paying attention.

Brittany beamed and pressed a quick kiss against his cheek before skipping away.

Blaine cast a look at Quinn and Mike before making his way to the choir room, a determined look on his face.

Blaine was less than a foot away from the choir room door when a soft, hesitant voice called out to him.

"Could we talk?" Kurt asked, stepping out from the shadows and staring at Blaine. "Please?"

Blaine looked at him for a long moment before turning away from the countertenor and walking into the choir room, Mike and Quinn hot on his tail.

Mr. Schuester looked up at Blaine and smiled, clearly glad to have him back. The smile faded upon seeing the expression on Blaine's face, though. The two stared at each other for a few seconds before Mr. Schue finally nodded in acceptance and turned his gaze to the blackboard.

Had she been present, Coach Sylvester probably would have made some obnoxious crack about people-with-terrible-hair-having-freaky-telepathic-abilities, but Blaine really just thought that Mr. Schue understood.

He appreciated that.

Quinn and Mike had stopped in the doorway. Tina looked confused by her boyfriend's behavior, but neither one made any effort to explain themselves. Besides, all attention right now was on Kurt who had, at some point in the last few seconds, pushed his way past the two and was now standing only a few inches away from Blaine.

To Kurt's credit, he had tried no less than ten times to get Blaine's attention that day. However, he had been snubbed at each and every turn.

"Please," he begged again, beginning round eleven. "Just let me explain –"

"What's there to explain?" Blaine asked loudly, cutting him off.

Rachel made an annoyed sound. "You need to let Kurt apologize to you so that we can get on with our practice," she said.

"It's pretty rude to not even let him talk, dude," Finn added, scowling at Blaine.

"That's an interesting thing to say, Finn," Blaine said conversationally, his voice rising with each word. "Especially considering that not one of you bothered to ask my side of things last week, or to even mention what was happening."

Kurt looked rather like he might start crying.

Santana just rolled her eyes at him. "Look, hobbit –"

"I am not a fucking hobbit, Santana!" Blaine snapped angrily, whirling on the cheerleader, who reeled back in shock, clearly not used to people standing up to her. "And, quite frankly, I'm sick of you harassing me."

This time, it was Tina who tried to speak. "Blaine –"

"Do you know that I was unaware of supposedly cheating on Kurt until Friday, when Mike and Quinn took it upon themselves to inform me of my supposed misdeed?" Blaine continued, ignoring her. "No one else tried to find out my side of things."

"You're overreacting, dude," Finn said.

"I really don't think I am," Blaine said, his voice suddenly soft and empty. "You all talk about how we're supposed to be a family. Well, it's been made abundantly clear to me during my time here that I am not considered a member of New Directions or a member of this supposed family. I'm just the stupid, irritating boyfriend that you were all forced to accept because of Kurt."

"Blaine," Rachel started. "You know that isn't true –"

"It is," Blaine continued. "And you all know it is. Families don't throw each other into lockers, or roll over their feet. They don't call people sluts behind their back, and they sure as hell don't act like they haven't done anything wrong when they're confronted about their actions later!"

Sam, one of the few who actually looked ashamed at his behavior the previous week, tried to catch Blaine's gaze. "I'm sorry, man."

Blaine shook his head, ignoring the apology. "If I were a part of this supposed family, then one of you would have bothered to find out the truth, or at least have the decency to ask my side of things. Mike and Quinn are the only two who did…not counting Brittany, who I know you manipulated into ignoring me."

At this, both Santana and Rachel stared at the floor.

"It's very clear to me now that Brittany, Mike, and Quinn are the only three real friends I've made here," Blaine said. "And since I'm not a part of this group anyway, and I know Rachel wants to start her precious rehearsal, I'm going to do you all a big favor –"

"I didn't mean it like that!" Rachel said desperately, trying to talk over Blaine. "You're twisting my words."

"Please don't, Blaine," Kurt said, his shaky voice rising easily over Rachel's. "If you would just let me –"

"I quit."

Silence followed that statement, no one daring to move. Quinn and Mike gave Blaine encouraging looks, respecting his decision. Mr. Schue was clearly saddened by this, but the expression on his face said that he understood. Everyone else, for the most part, looked upset, angry, or confused.

Kurt looked absolutely devastated.

Blaine was halfway to the door when Kurt sprang from his spot and reached out to touch his shoulder. He flinched at the touch, more because of the bruises than anything else, before whirling around.

"What?"

Kurt took a deep breath before speaking. "Please just give me a chance to explain myself to you, Blaine," he said, full-out sobbing now.

"You mean like you gave me?" Blaine said lowly.

Kurt flinched at that, but Blaine felt very little satisfaction.

"I made a terrible mistake," Kurt continued. "I should have talked to you right away, but I was so angry and I didn't think about what I was doing."

"Don't lie to me, Kurt."

Kurt sobbed harder. "I'm not lying, Blaine, please –"

"It is a lie, and you know it," Blaine said harshly. "You don't trust me, Kurt."

"I do!"

"No you don't!" Blaine snapped.

"No, please, you have to listen to me, Blaine! It isn't like that."

"I really think it is," said Blaine. "If you trusted me, then this wouldn't have happened in the first place. I mean, fuck, Kurt, how can we possibly have a relationship when one of us doesn't trust the other? How can we have a relationship when we believe rumors over one another? Or when we refuse to get the other persons side of things before taking action? I mean, you didn't even bother to talk with me before you dumped me through a text message."

Kurt took a deep, ragged breath at that, clearly trying to come up with something to say in his defense. Blaine studied Kurt's tear-streaked face closely and, for a single instant, he thought that he had never been more beautiful.

"I do love you, Kurt," he admitted softly.

Kurt perked up considerably at that and gave him a small smile.

"I love you, too, Blaine! And I know things are messed up right now," he added quickly, "but I think that we can – Blaine?"

During the time that Kurt had been speaking, Blaine had been inching away from him and closer to the door.

"I love you," Blaine repeated just before stepping into the hall. "But I don't know if love is enough."