Blaine gets home from Warbler practice absolutely exhausted, due in no small part to the necessity of actively demonstrating the correct way to dance sassily. The boys didn't seem to get that you had to use your face and not just go through the motions. His mood improves considerably, however, when he sees Kurt's—his husband's—car in the driveway. They hadn't planned to spend the night together as both of them are up to their ears in Sectionals preparation, but the idea is definitely a welcome one.

Or at least it is until Blaine opens the front door, shouting “Honey, I'm home!” as cheesily as he can muster, and heads straight for the kitchen to find Kurt stood in the middle of the room, arms crossed defensively and face flat.

“Kurt?” He asks, dread instantly filling his chest. “Is—what's wrong?”

Kurt lets out a long huff of breath and taps his fingers against one arm. “Your house phone rang,” He starts and Blaine tilts his head, confused.

“…Okay?”

“And I thought it would be weird to pick it up so I let the caller leave a message and—”

“And?” Blaine prompts as Kurt cuts himself off, the words obviously hard to say.

“You didn't tell me you'd been depressed?”

“I—what?” Blaine feels strangely like the walls are bending inwards, like he's being shrunk as they loom over him. He swallows hard.

“It was a woman ringing about some overdue therapy session and—and anti-depressants.”

This isn't happening, Blaine thinks, fingers clenching at his sides.

“You didn't—you're on anti-depressants?” Kurt asks, posture stiff.

Blaine shakes his head, forcing his mouth to work. “No, I—I'm not now. I just was…before.”

“Before meaning…?”

“After our break-up.” Blaine says quietly, fingers flexing involuntarily. Kurt's eyes narrow.

“Which one?” He says, words barely above a whisper.

“The—the first one. That's when it, like, started. And I was fine, but then—I mean, I'd failed out of NYADA and I was back here and everything was bad again and I just—my therapist suggested I started taking them again before it got as bad as last time.”

Kurt nods to himself, as if everything Blaine just said merely confirmed his suspicions.

“You were diagnosed with depression?”

“I—yeah.” Blaine mutters, wishing it didn't make him want to climb under his duvet and never come out again. Kurt wasn't supposed to find out.

Kurt closes his eyes suddenly, cursing to himself, and Blaine flinches. “Those marks, the ones on your legs, they aren't really from too much time around cats at the Lima Animal Shelter, are they?”

“…No.” He admits quietly, panic rising inside of him.

“Goddamnit!” Kurt's hand smacks down onto the counter and Blaine has to stop himself from physically running away, dropping his gaze instead. He hates it when Kurt's angry at him. They'd just worked through all the fighting and now Blaine has gone and messed everything up again, except this time their married, God, is he going to be divorced before he's even twenty—

He doesn't realise he's started crying until he feels Kurt's fingers gently collecting the moisture along his cheeks, the metal of his ring cool against Blaine's skin. He dips his head down to try and catch Blaine's gaze, placing his hand on Blaine's arm when Blaine attempts to squirm away. It's not a proper restraint, Blaine could move away if he really wanted to, it's more of a reassuring gesture and Blaine allows it to ground him for a moment.

“Sweetheart, don't cry,” Kurt murmurs, still stroking Blaine's face with one hand even though the tears stop falling. “I'm sorry I raised my voice, I'm just—God, do you have any idea how mad it makes me that you hurt yourself? And I didn't—you were hurting this badly and I didn't even know…”

“I'm sorry.” Blaine says, wondering if this is doomed to be a recurring theme in their relationship; Blaine messes up, apologises, Kurt eventually takes him back.

“No, don't apologise, I'm not—sweetie, I'm not mad at you. I'm annoyed at myself —I should've been there for you.”

“Oh.” Blaine hadn't thought of it like that. “I'm not, though—mad at you, I mean.”

“I know you're not; you're far too self-deprecating for that.”

“Sorry.” Blaine repeats dumbly.

“Just promise me that next time you're going through something like this you'll talk to me about it. I might not be able to make it better, but I'll hold your hand until it is, okay?” 

Blaine nods slowly and it earns him a small smile from Kurt. “Thank you for, like, understanding.”

“Of course. It's the least I can do for my amazing husband.”

Blaine grins. Husband.

“Can we maybe order take-away — just for tonight!” He adds hastily when Kurt arches an eyebrow.

“Ugh, fine, only as it's you asking.”

“Yay!” Blaine closes the gap between them to press a kiss to Kurt's lips and then shimmies out of his arms, walking to the drawer where the take-away menus are kept. Kurt groans and mutters something about ‘cooked in fat', but he rolls his eyes in a fond way and picks his favourite Chinese dish without any prompting.

It's not the last conversation they have about it—Kurt makes a point of kissing over the thin scars whenever they have sex and he sometimes asks Blaine questions when they're cuddling, warm and relaxed on the couch. Blaine gets used to Kurt becoming irrationally concerned whenever he has a bad day at work, learns to see it not as a judgement but a protective instinct, another way of Kurt showing his love. To be honest, it becomes just another small aspect of the married life he's fallen in love with. They are works in progress, both of them, and Blaine is one hundred percent okay with that.