A/N: You can read Blaine's POV of the events (Stained Glass) at my lovely co-author's account: kurtsontop. Tumblr: coffeebeanklaine. Scarves and Coffee: coffeebeanklaine. Updates every Sunday. Thank you for reading. I hope you enjoy the fic!

Chapter One – My Heart's Crippled By the Vein That I Keep On Closing

But I don't care what they say,

I'm in love with you.

They try to pull me away,

But they don't know the truth.

My heart's crippled by the vein,

That I keep on closing.

"Well, Kurt Hummel, you seem like a wonderful man."

Kurt blinked. That could mean so many things. Wonderful as in "thank you so much, but we won't be acquiring your talents today" or wonderful as in "I'll let you take the job as long as you give me handjobs twice a day in the bathroom"? He swallowed hard, directing his gaze away from the scrawny man with a clipboard clutched in his hands. He'd blown yet another interview. How was he supposed to pay rent now?

"I'd be very happy if you'd consider joining our staff."

Kurt jumped up eagerly, grinning broadly. "Thank you, sir. Thank you so much, I promise I won't disappoint," he said.

Frank, the current manager of the Spotlight Diner smiled fondly, his skin stretching tightly over his prominent cheekbones like elastic. He reminded Kurt a bit of a stick, if sticks had beady brown eyes and wispy orange-colored hair. "I'm glad you'll be fulfilling the position. I expect you here at seven thirty every morning, Monday through Saturday, because the diner opens at nine. We'll be performing numbers every day and I expect you to have the lyrics memorized. Got it, Kurt?"

Kurt rubbed his clammy hands on either side of his white skinny jeans and nodded frantically. "Yes, sir, I understand."

Frank pushed the rainbow beads that separated the back room from the red and black circular tables of the diner. Waiters and waitresses twirled around, balancing trays featuring various dishes across their arms as they danced to a song that blared over the speakers hung on each wall.

It was by no means where Kurt had envisioned himself, but it would give him enough money to get himself to where he did want to be. He couldn't wait to get home and tell Aaron about his day.

The bell over the front door tinkled as Frank held it open for Kurt. "It was great meeting you today, Kurt. I look forward to seeing you bright and early tomorrow morning!" he exclaimed.

Kurt shook his hand and started on his way, grinning so brightly that even the stony grey sky couldn't weaken his mood. A light rain began to fall from the sky, drenching the lively New York City and all of its inhabitants. Despite the outfit he had so carefully put together last night, and the fact that he would have to take it to the drycleaners once he got home, Kurt held out his arms and titled his face up to the sky.

The cool rain soaked his face and trickled down his neck, washing away all of his anxieties and stress and replacing it with a temporary sense of carelessness. With a smile playing on his lips, Kurt popped the collar of his trench coat and started off down the slick sidewalk.

He hailed a cab and to his surprise, one of the bright yellow vehicles yielded immediately. It was rare that he ever had the luck of getting one of the ever-moving taxis to take him home, but it felt like the entire world was on his side today.

Kurt could barely contain his excitement as he climbed inside of the warm cab and told the driver his address. He sat back against the leather seats and debated texting Aaron to let him know he had gotten the job. Kurt envisioned his boyfriend's face; the way his baby blue eyes would widen in surprise when he read the message, and then his fingers would fly across trhe keyboard as he typed an enthusiastic reply.

Finally, Kurt decided against it. He wanted to be able to see Aaron's reaction the exact moment he told him. Kurt glanced out the misted window at the busy streets; the people that hurried by with umbrellas propped overhead, the propaganda artists who loitered on the rainy pavement, broadcasting their latest products, the tourists who darted into the nearest shops with maps held over their heads. It was all so beautiful in a hectic sort of way.

As the cab slowed and stopped in front of a red light, Kurt caught sight of a man walking alone through the streets. He wore a dark grey coat, a tuft of ebony curls sticking out from beneath his rain-streaked hood, as he hunched over and strutted purposefully through the puddles. There was something about his tense posture and determined stride that made Kurt frown and furrow his brow, wanting nothing more than to get out of the cab and give him a tight hug.

Kurt understood more than anything what having a bad day felt like. He could remember every single bad day he'd had over the past twenty-one years of his life. One bad day in particular was etched into his memory permanently with a sharp blade.

There was a dark ring of indigo around his eye, obliterating Blaine's perfect, olive complexion. Kurt sighed, wrapping his fingers around the Styrofoam frame of his non-fat grand Mocha.

"What happened this time?" he asked, already knowing the answer.

"Boxing accident?" Blaine replied uncertainly. He was always so bad at lying to Kurt.

Kurt took a deep breath. "Blaine…"

"Kurt, stop. Please. It's fine, it doesn't matter. It'll heal in a few days, it always does. Now, you're leaving tomorrow and I'd rather not spend my last face-to-face conversation with my boyfriend talking about what may or may not have happened during a boxing accident," Blaine insisted.

"We've talked enough about New York, Blaine," Kurt said slowly, watching his boyfriend's gaze carefully. Blaine was like a thin sheet of glass; if you stepped in the wrong spot, he would crack. "This is serious. You need to do something before it gets out of hand."

Blaine's eyes squeezed shut, his hands curling into fists on the table surface. "I can't."

Kurt was exasperated. How could Blaine be so damn naive about what was happening to him? "Your father is beating you," he exclaimed, dragging his fingers through his perfectly coiffed hair and not giving a moment's thought to all the time he had spent that morning making every hair stay in place.

"I know exactly what he's doing! You really think that I don't know that it's not right? That I'm not scared to go home all the time because that's all I have to go back to? I'm soscared, Kurt."

The absolute agony in Blaine's voice made his heart break and he turned away from him, trying to focus on anything but the man he loved sitting in front of him. The setting of the Lima Bean was all too perfect, people bustling around and exchanging petty conversation over iced coffees and biscotti. Didn't they see Blaine? Didn't they see all the pain sitting a couple tables away?

Biting the inside of his lip to keep from crying, Kurt straightened up and glanced back at his boyfriend. "Then do something about it." He reached across the table and pulled Blaine's fingers from his cup, stroking them lightly and squeezing reassuringly.

"I can't," Blaine repeated, his gaze fixed at a coffee stain embedded into the table top.

"Yes, you can! You're so much stronger than this Blaine, I know you are. Go to the police. Tell them what he's doing to you."

Blaine ripped his hand away abruptly as if he'd been burned, "Ican't! Don't you see that if I went to someone it would just make it so much worse? Where would I go? My mom ran away the same way you're telling me to. Except I will havenobody. Who am I going to go to? You're leaving for New Yorktomorrowand as much as you say your father likes me, I doubt he'd want to take me in. And I don't want to live with some stranger. It's not as easy as you make it seem."

Something tight coiled inside of Kurt, winding and twisting and stretching tighter with every word that left Blaine's mouth. Sympathy? Maybe. Pain? Yes. Anger? Probably. "So help me understand. Why is running away so bad? Why is getting help so bad? He's hurting you, for god's sake!"

"He's my dad, Kurt!" Blaine stood up from his chair, pulling his bag on his shoulder. "He's all I have left! Mom's gone. You're leaving. Nobody else cares. He's the only person who still loves me. He looks after me, and sure sometimes he gets stressed out, but he always apologizes. It's like if your dad were to beat you. Your mom is gone and he's all you really have left. If he hit you, would you turn him in? Would you lose the one person that matters the most just because sometimes he has a temper?" Blaine turned on his heel, starting towards the door.

Shaking his head, Kurt grabbed his cardigan off the chair and hurried after his boyfriend. "Blaine, stop, please just listen to me! It's not the same. He's been hurting you since you were nine years old, do you really think that's okay? Your mom would've taken you with her if she could've, but—"

Blaine wheeled around suddenly, his hazel eyes flashing dangerously in the bright sunlight that flooded the parking lot. "No, Kurt, she wouldn't have! Because my mother, contrary to your belief, really doesn't give a damn about me!"

"You're being unreasonable," Kurt declared. Anger was flaring up inside of him, dangerous and wild like a fire.

Blaine laughed coldly. "Oh, I'm being unreasonable? How the fuck am I being unreasonable?"

Kurt took a step back, flinching at the swear. Blaine never swore. Tentatively, he extended his hand to touch Blaine's shoulder comfortingly but Blaine shook his head and ducked out of his reach.

"You just don't get it. And you never will."

The words hit Kurt like a slap in the face. "That's not fair and you know it."

Blaine rolled his eyes and started back towards his car, furiously digging the keys out of his pocket. Kurt trudged wearily after him. "What's unfair?" Blaine called over his shoulder. "That my father hits me and I can't do a thing about it? Or that I have a boyfriend who is leaving me alone with that…that monster?"

The coil inside of Kurt snapped then, tossing him into a turmoil. His hands shook from where he had shoved them in his pockets, but he threw his shoulders back and narrowed his eyes, blinking back the tears that threatened to overflow. A single word bubbled up from his heart to his throat and froze on his tongue like an unwanted aftertaste.

"Courage, Blaine."

Blaine's back when rigid and he whirled around, a single corkscrew curl free from his helmet of gel. "Excuse me?"

"You're a hypocrite. How can you tell me to be 'courageous', to 'stand up in the face of my demons', but then you run away from yours like a goddamn coward?" Kurt said. His voice came out much calmer than he felt and he prided himself for a moment before everything in Blaine's face shattered like glass.

"This is nowhere close to the same thing!" Blaine cried.

Kurt swallowed, looking at everything but his boyfriend and the hurt that swelled up behind his eyes like a tidal wave. "You know what? Fine. Have it your way. I tried to understand, I tried to help you, but how am I supposed to do that if you won't let me in? I'm going to New York tomorrow, Blaine, I can't be held back by somebody who tells people to do one thing but then won't follow through on his own advice. That's not fair to me and it's not fair to you. I love you, you know that. But I just can't do this anymore."

Kurt turned away hurriedly before he could see the tidal wave in Blaine's face break. His shoulders hunching and his heart crumbling in on itself, Kurt walked away from the only man he had ever loved.

Kurt found that same crushing sensation return to his chest as the memories flitted through his mind. He wasn't proud of what he had done that day, but he knew it was the best thing for himself. It was selfish, he had come to the conclusion several days later while sitting on his unpacked boxes in his shoebox apartment, but it was necessary.

Kurt handed the taxi driver a crumpled twenty and then added an extra dollar just because he was in a good mood as he exited the vehicle, dashing into the rain for a brief moment before ducking into his apartment building. The excited hype returned to him as he punched the elevator button for the ground floor and slid inside of the poorly furnished elevator.

The cheesy elevator music did little to suppress his excitement as he bobbed up and down with anticipation. Aaron was going to be so happy, so proud of him, so relieved that he could finally pay his half of the rent.

At last, Kurt slid his room key into the slot and heaved open the thick metal door. Immediately, he was overwhelmed with the impending fragrance of roses and candle incense. He slipped inside, blinking rapidly against the dim lighting of the living room.

"Aaron?" Kurt shouted as he hung his damp coat on the kitchen chair and made his way through the apartment. A pathway of red and yellow rose petals was scattered across the crème-colored shag carpeting, leading from the kitchen to Kurt's bedroom.

Kurt smiled as he pushed open the door to his bedroom and peered inside. Aaron was sitting on top of his bed, wringing his hands together in his lap as he glanced toward his phone on the nightstand every couple of seconds.

Kurt cleared his throat. Alarmed, Aaron jumped to his feet. At the sight of his boyfriend, he straightened out his clean, white t-shirt and khakis, grinning tentatively. His shaggy blond hair hung over his light, sky blue eyes as he stepped forward and bit his lip, ducking his head in that sheepish way Kurt adored.

"I-I wanted to do something special for you, since I know how worried you were about your interview today. I thought some candles and roses would cheer you up, in case you didn't get the job." Aaron lurched suddenly, as if he were mentally chastising himself. "I-I didn't mean that I didn't think you wouldn't get the job. I mean—"

Kurt stepped forward and pressed his lips to Aaron's, reaching his arms around his neck and tangling his fingers in the soft hair that twisted into curls at the base of his neck. Aaron relaxed into the kiss, his hands resting almost hesitantly on Kurt's hips.

Kurt was tall, but Aaron was taller. He was a lanky and scrawny figure, his head nearly brushing the ceiling of every place they went, but Kurt loved the height difference. He felt so safe tucked in the crook of Aaron's gawky neck. He had only ever been with Blaine, who was short enough that Kurt had to crane his neck every time they kissed.

Damn. Kurt wasn't supposed to be thinking about Blaine; he was supposed to be enjoying a pleasant evening with his boyfriend after a harrowing day. Even as Aaron intertwined their fingers and lead him to the floor where a neat, picnic dinner rested, Kurt couldn't help the way his eyes flickered over to the red and yellow roses that sat in a blue vase on his dresser. And he certainly couldn't help the way his mind was thrown back to a hot summer day, when a young eighteen year old boy brought his boyfriend a bouquet of those exact same flowers and told him that he loved him.