Kurt got into the car while Blaine hurried to start the ignition and drive out of the Lima Bean parking lot. Blaine was jumpy, nervous, yet totally unaware of Kurt. While he focused on leaving, Kurt's mind sorted through the last few minutes. His mind flashed images of fear, panic stuck onto Blaine's face. Words tossed around, leaving scars where they hit. Kurt's grip tightened on the leather seat as he slowly turned to face Blaine. He took a deep breath before speaking as calmly as he could.

"Blaine. Who was that?" A silence settled in the car. Blaine uncurled his fingers from the steering wheel. He swallowed, tried to suppress his nerves. He felt his whole body give up as he tensed again. Knuckles tightened to the point of turning white, jaw clenched as fear and embarrassment came into play. He opened his mouth. Nothing but a chocked cough tangled with a breath came out. He could feel Kurt shift in the seat next to him. Blaine hoped this meant Kurt was turning away, giving up on the queries. So why did he suddenly feel a pair of eyes searching for what his mind was so desperate to keep hidden?

"It's nothing Kurt. Just please let it go, okay?" Blaine was almost as startled as Kurt was at the snarl that laced his voice. He shook it off. It didn't matter right now. Kurt slowly sank back into his chair, crossed his arms and remained silent the rest of the drive. He settled himself against the window, letting the rapidly passing landscape blur into one, unsettling image of the unknown. Meanwhile, Blaine was desperately trying to get Kurt home. He rushed through the streets, impatient at every red light that seemed to go on for just a little too long. Kurt was beginning to frown, awfully hurt and confused by everything that had just happened.

The hurt gave in to disbelief as the storefronts kept speeding past. He had to be dreaming. They were in Ohio, but they hadn't done anything wrong. He settled his hand on his thigh, ready to pinch himself. It's childish, but he needed the reassurance. He needed to know that Blaine was all right, he wasn't still stuck in whatever trance had torn him apart at the Lima Bean. The glossy sheen his eyes had suddenly lost when those three boys came across the room. Kurt began to feel his chest get tighter. Breathing was becoming a little more difficult to do. Because Blaine was gripping the steering wheel, eyes rimmed with unshed tears as they turned into Kurt's driveway.

Blaine slowly sank back properly into his chair, holding his hands and massaging his numb knuckles. Kurt couldn't speak. His breathing was labored and Blaine was staring straight ahead, absently rubbing his hands. Kurt leaned over to Blaine's seat and rested his hand on the other boy's shoulder, pressing his lips momentarily to a forehead. Blaine closed his eyes and swallowed, but didn't move. Kurt opened the door and stepped out, greeted by a harsh blast of air. Winter was finally settling in, so he wrapped his scarf around his neck more snuggly. Turning around to close the door, he flashed Blaine a smile, pretending that whatever had just happened had indeed been 'nothing'. But Blaine was deep in thought, hands still clasped. He turned to give Kurt a sad look, forcing a small smile to tug at his lips. He then went right back to staring into the void of his own mind. Kurt simply closed the door and walked over to his porch. He opened the door without even waiting for Blaine to drive away.

He settled on the couch near his father. A small nod of the head was all he got in response as the football game started on the TV screen. Another silence filled the space as the game began. Burt would occasionally cat call and shout whenever an important pass was fumbled, but none of his attention was for Kurt.

"Dad? Can we talk for a second?" Kurt sounded so scared, he was almost embarrassed. This was his father, not some stranger throwing insults at him.

"Mmh?" Burt hadn't even shifted his gaze over to his son long enough to make eye contact.

"Why did you lie to me about mom's death?" That comment had caught Burt's attention. The TV fell silent suddenly as he sat up, facing his son with a softening expression on his face. "I mean, why did you believe the truth would be worse than the disappointment I would feel once I found out?" Kurt was looking at his shoes, too nervous to meet his father's gaze. Burt got up off the couch and came to sit closer to Kurt, wrapping the boy in his arms. They sat for a while, Kurt sinking into the feeling of love and acceptance his father had always given him.

"Well Kurt, when you care for someone, you want them to be happy more than anything. You want to see their smile, you live to hear their laugh fill the air. So when you find a way to ensure that happiness stays in their life, you take it. You don't always think it through very well. Which is a big problem, because you later realize that the extra happiness wasn't worth the excruciating sadness that pours out after it. But during that little burst of joy, all you can feel is pride for having made that possible. With your mother, I was devastated, as were you. But I had to seem content in order to tell you everything was fine, even though it wasn't. Deep down, I guess I only lied to myself about my feelings. I told myself that this hardship, this bump in the road, was nothing. That we would get through it. And so I told you the same thing. Sadly, you soon found out the truth. And with that you lost some of your happiness, meaning that I had ultimately failed." Burt ended with a tight squeeze around Kurt's shoulders. Kurt was quiet as he simply nodded before whispering something near his father's ear.

"You didn't fail Dad. You simply lost track of the goal momentarily. It just shows how much you care, how hard you try in order to do whatever you think might keep me happy. And I'm glad you did. Feeling the abandon right away would have been too much."

"Now why are you bringing this up?" Burt pushed Kurt by the shoulders a little so he could stare into his son's eyes. A soft smiled spread to Kurt's face as he got up and turned the volume back up in time to hear the screams of a thousand football fans in unison.

"Oh, it's nothing." With that, Kurt grinned and began climbing the stairs up to his room. His hand rested on the cold silver handle as his phone began to vibrate in his pocket. Taking it out he saw a text from Blaine. At least he was still alive and talking to Kurt.

Just wanted to make sure you were okay. It's been a weird day.

Blaine was curled up in his duvet, hands clasped around his knees as he took deep breaths. His phone was off. Kurt had replied, saying he was fine and wishing Blaine a good night's sleep to clear his head. He glanced down at the bright red digital clock on his beside table. 2:36 AM, and he was curled up on his bed. So much for sleeping, he though as he let go of his knees to turn his lamp back on. Light filled a small portion of his room as he blinked. More unshed tears spilled as Blaine closed his eyes and sank into his pillow. The soft fabric enveloped him as he finally gave in. He let his mind take over and rip this afternoon apart, examining each piece.

The Lima Bean. Calm and quiet as always when they had arrived. The air had turned colder when the three monsters had walked in, and Blaine had felt something. Something that hadn't been enough of a warning; he was too engrossed in his story to pay attention to his gut. The three men came closer, more into view, until he recognized them. Which sadly meant they had recognized him. He had gotten Kurt out of there, he had done his job. But they hadn't gotten the memo, because moments later they were insulting him. He had brushed the insult off, more enraged than hurt. But Kurt. Kurt hadn't coped as well. He had tightened his grip on Blaine, his face had gone paler. So Blaine ran. He had wanted to fight, to sink his fists into each of their stomachs, and make them feel what he had to endure.

A sharp pain ripped through Blaine's left side. He sat up, grabbing his hips and ugging his chest. All thoughts of today's events left as he struggled not to groan. The pain soon changed to a tingling. His nerves seemed on fire as he tightened his arms. The pressure replaced the tingles, but soon the pain returned, accompanied by an intense need to scratch the skin. Blaine propped himself up against his headboard, removing his shirt as quickly as possible. Extending his right arm caused another sharp pain to jolt through him. He winced and took a deep breath. A ragged scar lined Blaine's right side, following the curve of his chest as it passed over 3 ribs. Tentatively, he approached his hand over the red area. His scar was inflamed. Every few seconds, pain would travel through his core, leaving him breathless and whimpering. With each new instance of pain he felt like his ribs were now on fire. The metal plates inserted to keep them still were overheating, scalding his skin from the inside. More tears began to form as he began crying out as quietly as he could. Grabbing a pillow, he turned his head into it to muffle the sounds. The pain kept intensifying, draining Blaine's energy. Then, suddenly, it stopped. He felt numb, unable to feel his chest as he touched his hand to the previously inflamed skin. All feelings of warmth had disappeared as fast as the pain, making Blaine question whether they ever really were there. He let out a shaky breath before slipping his shirt back on.

They had done this to him. This reminder that people had gone out of their way to take Blaine's happiness and crush it like his ribs. White-hot rage replaced any pain he had previously felt as he sat up again. He trailed his eyes around the room, landing on a picture of him and Kurt at a lake, leaning against a tree. The summer sun left a flare on the picture, blurring out the edges. Kurt had his head firmly placed against Blaine chest, a large smile gracing his face. Blaine had his arms wrapped around Kurt. The two looked so peaceful. They had just been swimming and Blaine's hair was a mess of wet curls that were slowly dripping down his exposed chest. Blaine froze as he came to the scar. Kurt was right next to it, avoiding any pressure on it. It looked healed, barely visible, almost forgotten. Not red and angry like it was now.

Blaine began to feel guilty. Kurt seemed so happy on the picture, yet the car ride had been less than pleasant. The frown Kurt shot his as he stepped out of the car was still bothering him. All Kurt wanted was to know the truth. All Blaine wanted was to forget it. Someone would have to compromise. And since the scar was a constant reminder, he thought Kurt could give something up for now. It would help them both. Blaine would not have to think about his trauma, and Kurt would never even know it happened. Of course he knew about the incident, and the surgery, which left the scar. But he didn't know that Blaine woke up some nights drenched in his sweat. That his chest pained him whenever strong images returned. Blaine was only protecting Kurt. He didn't want to upset him over something that happened long ago.

So he decided he wouldn't tell Kurt. This one time thing would not ruin the happiness he had acquired since he had met Kurt. The love he was getting and giving was enough to counter act all this hate. He thought settling his mind might help him sleep, so he turned off his light and settled back into bed. He closed his eyes and let the darkness surround him. The world fell silent as he entered the land of dreams. He remained relatively still until a familiar dream forced itself into his head.

Blood on a sidewalk as three boys circled around a downed body. Somewhere off to the side lay an unconscious child, sprawled across the sidewalk. The boy at the center of the circle was gasping for breath, clutching his chest. The three others yelled insults at him, pushing and shoving him every now and then. Nearby, lights were turned on as the dance was being cleaned up. Far off voices could be heard. Teachers and staff too busy with clean up to notice two teens being violently beaten. An engine revved as a black car came to a stop at the corner of the road. A tall man got out. His green eyes tried to pierce the dark night as he searched for Louis and his friend. His eyes fell on the huddled group and he walked towards them until he spotted his son, lying on the floor.

Blaine jolted upright again, rubbing his face with his sleeve as he gasped for breath. His head felt dizzy and he needed some air to clear his head. Glancing down at his clock, he noted that 6:47 was not too early for a little stroll, even if the winter season meant it was still quite dark. He crawled out of bed, put on a jacket and grabbed his phone. He made his way downstairs and into the kitchen. A packet of post-it notes were stuck onto the fridge, so he took on and scribbled a short explanation for his walk in case his parents were up before he was back. He walked out of the front door and zipped up his jacket, reveling at the feeling of cold air in his lungs.