Notes: Sooo, people did *not* like Blaine making out with Sebastian. Well, I didn't really expect them to. I intended for the reaction to be "...what the hell is he doing?" But for some reason, I was still surprised. Therefore, before we go into the next chapter, I'm just asking - try to give him a break? He's confused, scared and drunk, and he has no idea what he's doing, either.

How Things Should Be

Part VI

In this instant, the world stopped. The ground underneath him could have fallen away, he wouldn't have noticed. This had to be what it felt like to be a mouse, staring into the unfeeling grin of a cat. Blaine was pinned under the glare of Lord Smythe's eyes, unable to move even a muscle, and his mind was running in circles, always coming back to the same thought.

No, please, god, no.

He was the only one paralyzed like that. In the corner of his eye he could see Sebastian standing up and smoothing down his hair. Lord Smythe stepped closer, looking at both of them full of disdain. The door behind him closed, putting them back into the muted half-light from before.

Blaine still felt more exposed than he'd ever been.

Oh god, what had he done?

And then, Lord Smythe began to speak. "I don't expect much from you, boy," he said in Sebastian's direction, "but I thought even you would have learned the meaning of discretion by now. I see that I was mistaken."

"If you're done ruining my afternoon..." Sebastian sounded as if nothing happened. And really, Blaine began to realize, to him nothing had happened. Everybody knew what Sebastian did, and by now it didn't make a difference. But for Blaine himself... it was different.

"You may call it an afternoon," Lord Smythe said, "but you're risking a political disaster here. Are you not aware that this boy is about to marry into the king's inner circle? How exactly do you think that is going to work if people find out what he is?"

Suddenly, Blaine remembered where his voice was. "You can't tell anybody. Please, please don't tell."

Lord Smythe snorted. "That's what you like these days?" he asked his son. "Pathetic..."

"Are you done yet?" Sebastian asked, a sharp edge in his voice. "Nothing even happened. Let's call it our little secret and forget this happened. What's the big deal?"

"The big deal is that these things have a way of coming to light, boy!" Lord Smythe's voice didn't rise, but there was venom in it. "And when it will come to light, it will be obvious that you were involved, and how is this going to look to Fabray? Or the king? The right thing to do is clearly to make this public and cast you out – which I should have done years ago, now that I think of it. I believe Earl Anderson will follow my example. It will be such a blow – he'd been sure you'd be incorruptible."

"Please don't tell my father," Blaine said. "I promise, nothing will happen ever again. I won't... I'm not going to do anything, nobody will find out."

"Oh, relax, he's not going to tell anyone," Sebastian said. "He doesn't care about what's right, he's thinking about what's politically smart. If you marry Quinn, you'll end up Fabray's heir eventually – and he'll always have some nice blackmail material at hand. He gains nothing from telling people. You're safe."

If anything, Lord Smythe looked even angrier. "You know everything, don't you, boy?"

"Am I wrong?"

For a moment, Blaine could only sit on the floor, shaking, as he waited for what felt like a verdict. He couldn't even breathe as he waited for Lord Smythe to speak.

"You do have a point," he said eventually, "but I have yet to make a decision." He shot another disdainful look at Blaine before he continued. "I will discuss things with my son. Just get out of my sight."

Still shaking, Blaine got to his feet. He cast a glance at Sebastian, who looked thoroughly bored with the proceedings, then hurried out of the shack. He stumbled, almost fell, as he passed Lord Smythe.

The man turned to him and looked at him as if he were an insect. "Your father will be so disappointed, a whore for a son... You and Quinn really are a good match."

Blaine didn't know what it meant, could hardly understand the words, as he stumbled outside. The air felt cold on his skin and in his lungs, and the light was so bright that he had to close his eyes for a moment. But his feet were still moving. He didn't know where he was going, only that he had to get away from here. As his feet moved, he was still shaking, unable to calm down. His head was spinning, and the sweat on his skin had turned cold.

What had he been thinking?

What exactly had gone wrong in his head that he had thought it could possibly be a good idea for him to follow Sebastian into that shack?

It hadn't seemed like a smart idea, it had felt more like fulfilling a dare. In the moment, it had been exhilarating. Now, that he thought back? When he closed his eyes, he could feel Sebastian's hands on him, and whereas the fire before had felt amazing, now it made him think more of the cold fire of purgatory. Shame was pulsing through his veins. For Sebastian, this was apparently a regular afternoon, and he seemed to be fine with it.

Blaine though felt... horrible, and guilty, but also confused. Why would it even feel like that? It had felt nothing like that when Kurt had kissed him.

Oh god, Kurt.

A new wave of shame rushed through him, and he suddenly had to stop or he was going to be sick.

He looked around to see just where he was. He was still close to the tents, although he was now at the opposite end of them. He leaned against one of the wooden pillars and tried to calm down.

For a few minutes, he was just breathing, trying not to throw up. Eventually, his thoughts slowed down and he felt a bit calmer. It had been a mistake, yes, but it had happened and he couldn't take it back. What could he do, then? Was there even anything that he could do?

He could stay away from Sebastian for the rest of his stay in the capital. He could make sure not to get on Lord Smythe's bad side. There wasn't anything he could do about Lord Smythe possibly telling anybody – he'd have to rely on the fact that telling wouldn't benefit the lord in any way. For now, he would have to return to the feast and hope to look as normal as possible.

It took a few more minutes until he was breathing evenly again, although his heart was still beating up to his throat. He still needed longer until he was sure that he wouldn't throw up as soon as he moved. The first thing he did was to get his clothes back in order. His hair was a lost cause, of course, so he found a bowl of water and splashed it, before he combed it into submission with his hands. For a few moments at least, he could focus on that instead of his thoughts and feelings. And then...

Then he had to put on a smile. As Cooper loved to say, the show would have to go on.

Somehow, he managed to walk back to the feast, his head held up high and hardly shaking. He shouldn't look different, maybe a bit out of it, but he should be able to blame that on the wine. It should be alright, but still, he felt as if it was written across his face what he had done, what he had let happen...

His facade only held until he found the place at his table again Quinn was sitting there, greeting him with soft affection.

"Did you have a good walk?" she asked.

Blaine managed a shaky smile. "It was fine," he said, "I really needed some air." Even to himself, his voice sounded strange. With shaking fingers, he found his glass to take a sip, only to find that it was still filled with wine. It was too heavy, and it tasted sour on his tongue – just another reminder of how he lost control.

Something about the disgust he felt must have shown in his face, because suddenly, the glass was taken out of his hand and replaced with another one, filled with fresh, clear water.

"Try this," Quinn said, a frown on her pale face.

Gratefully, Blaine gulped it down. It helped washing out Sebastian's taste, but of course that only reminded him why he had that taste in his mouth in the first place.

Quinn was watching him with concern, clearly not fooled by his attempts of looking normal. Quinn, his fiancée. He should feel guilty, technically he had cheated on her. Of course, he didn't love her, she certainly didn't love him either. There was no emotional investment...

Kurt was a different story. There may be no claim between them – he had made sure of that himself when he had rejected the other boy – but that didn't stop Blaine from feeling the guilt he should have felt for Quinn. He shouldn't, really, he had told Kurt that they couldn't be together, that he couldn't risk it.

Kurt, who had held him with care, and kissed him with ardor. Kurt, to whom he meant something beyond being another warm body. Then, he had felt warm, safe, happy. With Sebastian, he had been overwhelmed by lust, but now? He probably would feel just as dirty if Lord Smythe hadn't walked in on them.

"Blaine?" It was Quinn's voice again, soft and insistent. "Is everything alright?"

"I'm fine," he said, "I'm just not used to the wine." He prayed silently that she would believe him.

"I can see that," she said, "I was actually impressed you managed not to fall over on the way here."

"That bad?" Blaine asked. It was a bit of a surprise. He knew that he had had too much wine, but he hadn't thought it had been this obvious.

Instead of an answer, Quinn took his glass and let the wine spill onto the ground. She waved then for one of the servants. At first, he was relieved at the prospect of having more water. But then he remembered Kurt was among the servers, and god, he wasn't ready to face him, not yet. How could he look into Kurt's eyes, who had laid everything bare to him, whom he had rejected in order to be a good son? And now, he had thrown it all away, and for what? A whim? A spur of the moment? Too much wine?

Someone stepped beside him, and he didn't need to look up to know it was Kurt. He kept his eyes trained on his hands that were shaking – again, or maybe they'd never stopped, he didn't even know.

He expected Quinn to request more water for him, but she surprised him when she spoke. "Your lord isn't feeling well, maybe you should take him to his quarters."

Blaine looked up in surprise at this, and his and Kurt's eyes met. For a moment, Blaine was sure that Kurt could see right through him, would immediately know what he had been doing with Sebastian, and probably be disgusted by him. But there was only concern in his eyes.

"What is it?" he asked, his voice soft.

How on earth could he even begin to answer that?

"I'm afraid he's not so used to the capitol's wine," Quinn said, "but with enough sleep and lots of water, he should feel fine by tomorrow. It would be best if you got him to your quarters and put him to bed, then hurry back here."

In that moment, Blaine was grateful to her. She took control of the situation, and gave him an opportunity to leave. By tomorrow, he could get a grip on himself, and maybe things would look better once he slept over them. Anything was better than staying here at least.

She smiled at him. "I hope you feel better soon, Blaine."

Even as he thanked her, he felt Kurt helping him to his feet. For a moment, the dizziness returned, but Kurt was there, an arm around his waist stabilizing him as they walked way from the table. It felt warm, secure. Any other day, it would have calmed him down. Today, it almost made him feel worse.

Dusk was already falling, when they returned to their quarters. There was nobody there. All the servants were still working, and his family was still at the feast. Blaine was silent as Kurt stayed and put him to bed, didn't speak either, when he other boy left with a soft "good night". He just pulled the blanket around him like a second skin and hoped that sleep would come soon.

All he wanted was to close his eyes, fall asleep and forget everything about this day – forget Sebastian, and how his skin had burnt under his touch, forget Quinn and his betrothal, forget his family, forget everything.

His thoughts were a jumbled mess, and he wished for someone to make sense of everything. He wanted to find Kurt, fall to his knees in front of the boy and tell him everything, what had happened with Sebastian, how sorry he was, how different it had felt from that single kiss he and Kurt had shared. He probably shouldn't say a thing, because what good could there come from it for Kurt? Blaine just wished that he could somehow make things alright between them. He should say something, but what?

Things with Sebastian had gone further than the kiss he had shared with Kurt. It should have been more intense. But when he looked back on today, it felt him with shame. That single kiss, on the other hand, had felt completely different, like a connection between them. So completely different...

If he could just talk to Kurt, and maybe manage to say what he really thought... maybe then he could make sense of what was going on in his mind...

So of course, he was grateful, when Kurt returned to him, to comfort him to make him feel good. There were cool hands stroking over Blaine's face, then his throat, to his chest, spreading the fabric of his shirt to reveal more skin. And then there were lips, trailing from his lips down to his throat. The kisses were soft, the hands reached his sides, and he felt the swelling of breasts pushing against his chest.

Wait, what?

Blaine opened his eyes, even as his hands shot up to hold the person above him at a distance. It took him a while to get used to the darkness, but from the lights outside he could see pale skin, and long blond hair.

"Quinn?!"

"Shh," she whispered, bowing forward again and pressing kisses against his cheek. "I figured you could need some comfort."

"You shouldn't be here," Blaine hissed.

Quinn didn't seem to care, pushing her body against his in what he was sure was a sensual motion. But all he could think of was that this was not who he wanted, could never be who he wanted, and she would know, she would feel it, and then what?

"It will be our secret," Quinn breathed into his ear.

It wasn't the smartest thing he'd ever done, or maybe it was the only thing he could do in this situation. He pushed her away, and scrambled out of the bed, almost tripping over the blanket.

Quinn was looking up at him, confused and bewildered, her blond hair wild, her silk dress half open and messed up. Blaine was sure, most young men couldn't have turned away from that sight, but... it didn't do anything for him, not that he had needed any other confirmation. He wasn't sure how he would survive his wedding night. But she couldn't know, not yet, not like this...

"I'm sorry, Lady Quinn, but we can't," Blaine said. "Please return to your rooms. It's not right."

"Don't you want me?" Quinn asked, her voice soft and more vulnerable than he'd ever heard her.

Blaine bit his lips. It wasn't fair to lie to her, to keep her in the dark – but he couldn't tell her the truth. "I'm sorry, but it's not decent. There'll be enough time for this after the wedding."

"But-"

He couldn't stand it, the way she looked at him, almost desperate now. He turned away, fleeing the room. He wasn't even sure where he was going, but he couldn't stay.

"Isn't this a beautiful sight, boy? Tell me what you think about it."

Sebastian groaned as he looked down. His father hadn't taken him far away, just to one of the bridges leading from the royal keep into the city. It was high, but there wasn't much to see, except the cleaned up capital. He was quite sure that there were better views. He was also sure, that his father didn't actually care about the view, but rather for something to pontificate about. Lord Smythe was very much into speeches.

"It's high up, too, maybe the highest drop in the capital," his father continued. "They say that if somebody was pushed down from the bridge, they'd be dead before they hit the ground."

Sebastian snorted. "Threatening to kill me, father? Is it that time of the month again?"

The serene expression on his father's face morphed into rage. "Don't think for a second I wouldn't do it," he growled. "If I throw you down this bridge, or have you poisoned at home, or just maybe arrange an accident when you're out hunting... it's in my power, and don't believe that anybody would give a damn. Your mother even sometimes wishes that fever had taken you when you were still a child. You're nothing but a burden on this family, but we carry you, even if you don't deserve it. I've even given up on you not embarrassing my name. That's a lost cause. But you will not come in between my plans, do you hear me?"

It wasn't as if any of hat was something new, but Sebastian still felt his temper rise. "Why do you care about him anyway?"

"I've put a lot of work into the Anderson-Fabray match, you are not going to endanger it!" Lord Smythe shouted. "Fabray has paid a lot for this, and I can use Anderson in my back pocket. But no, you have to go and risk it. Even Fabray won't be desperate enough to go through with this match if the Anderson boy is revealed to be a deviant. Then there's no way to get Dalton into the fold, the king will be furious, and whose fault will it be? Yours, and therefore mine. You are ruining this family, and why? Just because you can't be bothered to make a better choice of your whore!"

"He's not a whore!"

Lord Smythe's eyebrows went up, his face the perfect picture of surprise, and for once, Sebastian could actually believe it was genuine. But right now, he was too surprised himself about his outburst. He didn't yell at his father, didn't go further than sarcastic comments. But now, he couldn't have kept quiet. It was Blaine Anderson, of course, he and his wide hazel eyes, those damn lips, the way he talked about his future, worried and uncertain, and through all the worry still the most gorgeous boy Sebastian had ever seen. Blaine Anderson, beautiful and innocent, and probably never even touched before today...

"Excuse me?" his father asked.

Sebastian shook his head, trying to regain his equilibrium. "He's not a whore," he repeated calmer, "trust me, he doesn't have the experience of one." Even this attempt of sounding light-hearted was in vain, so he continued. "And nobody has to know! I won't tell anybody, neither will he. I don't think he even looked at a man before, much less did anything. It's just the two of us and him who know. There's no danger to your precious plans, so leave him out of this!"

His father seemed to see right through it, too. He stared at his son, and Sebastian could have sworn he could actually see how his brain started scheming again.

"You like this one," Lord Smythe said, amazement in his voice. "You actually like him."

"So what if I do?" Sebastian asked. He hated how defensive he sounded. What was so special about liking someone anyway? He'd liked other boys – boys he got way further with than he had gotten with Blaine before his father interrupted. Of course, he wouldn't have hesitated to call any of them a whore, and once they were out of sight, he didn't have it in him to care about them. Blaine Anderson on the other hand was very hard to forget.

Did he like Blaine? And why should it matter?

But Lord Smythe still looked at him with wonder, and something else that he didn't recognize.

"What if you do, indeed..." he said, his voice trailing off. "I hadn't thought I'd see the day. But I think..."

Sebastian frowned. "You think what?"

Lord Smythe was still smiling, but now it was a smile that Sebastian was used to – scheming, and shrewd, and it sent a shudder down his spine.

"I think I can work with that."

Kurt tried to keep himself busy with cleaning. It wasn't even his task, and it could definitely wait till after the feast, but right now, he was here, he was on his own, and he desperately needed to calm his thoughts.

What had happened today?

Blaine had seemed fine in the morning, even if not too thrilled about his betrothal, but he had been fine. But the longer the day had gone on, the worse his state had gotten, and it couldn't just be the wine. And then, leaving with that weasel-faced Smythe... Kurt knew that something must have happened, there could be no other explanation for how... distressed Blaine had looked when he had returned. He had also been shaking all the way back to their quarters, no matter how hard he had tried to look unaffected. And of course, Kurt had seen the marks around Blaine's clavicles when he'd helped the young lord change. Love bites, and Kurt had a pretty good idea on who had caused them...

He should probably go back to the feast, but he couldn't. Not while Blaine was still this upset, and not while his own thoughts were such a mess. He doubted anybody would miss him at the feast anyway.

He had known Smythe was trouble, it was just a surprise that Blaine hadn't seen it. But what had happened? Just from the marks, Kurt would have thought that there had been some making out. It hurt to even think about it. He knew that he and Blaine weren't together, but it didn't change that he had feelings for the young lord, and even imagining him with anyone, especially someone like Smythe, was painful. But even as he felt hurt, his mind contiued to try and figure out just what was going on with Blaine. If it had just been some sort of tryst, he wouldn't have been this upset. Besides, the young lord was so clearly intoxicated... at the very least, he would regret whatever had happened once he was sober again. From the way he acted, he already regretted it now...

Kurt wasn't sure how much time had passed, but the sound of footsteps tore him out of his thoughts. The sound was soft, clearly not the sound of someone wearing shoes, and it was fast, as if whoever it was, was hurrying. Kurt quickly stepped out of the servant quarters to see what it was. His first thought was again of Blaine. Was he feeling sick?

It was indeed the young lord he met in the corridor. Kurt's heart sank. Blaine seemed to be in an even worse state than he had been at the feast, his eyes wide and his hands shaking, topped off with his hair now mussed up by sleep. He stopped, when he saw Kurt standing in front of him.

"Kurt? You... you're still here?" he asked, his voice somewhere between confused and hopeful.

"I didn't want you to be alone," Kurt said as he came closer. "Are you okay?"

"I..." Blaine looked away, as if he had to think about the question. "I'm not sure, I'm... Did you see her?"

Kurt frowned. "See who?"

"Quinn. She... she was in my room," Blaine said.

"That's strange," Kurt said. Maybe the lady had been worried, but then she probably would have asked about Blaine, not just went into his room. "Maybe she wanted to check on you?"

"She climbed in my bed, Kurt," Blaine said harshly. "What do you think she was going to check?"

Kurt couldn't help but blush. He was not going to answer that. "Into your bed?" he repeated instead.

Blaine nodded, a shudder running through him.

Kurt could hear another set of footsteps. On instinct, he grabbed Blaine's hand and pulled him into the servants' quarter and closed the door behind them. It was almost scary how easily Blaine came along. The young lord just let himself be dragged inside and sank to the floor, his back to a wall.

Kurt knelt down in front of him. He wasn't sure what to do, what he was allowed to do, or what he should do in order to comfort his... friend, or at least that was the word he settled for.

"I'm sorry," Blaine said. His voice sounded raw and hurt and just exhausted. "I'm sorry, Kurt, I'm so sorry..."

"What on earth would you be sorry for?" Kurt asked. "i don't think you invited her to your bed." And really, Kurt had no right to expect an apology for Blaine not wanting to run away with him, or for whatever Blaine had done with Sebastian today.

Blaine shook his head. "I just... I think I'm making a mess of everything today. Or not just today, not with you, and I'm sorry. I don't know how everything got so messed up..." He sighed. "I don't know what's with today..."

Kurt frowned. "This isn't just about Lady Quinn, is it?"

Blaine shook his head again. "It's everything," he said, "Quinn, and my father, and Sebastian, and you... I just wish it could all go away..."

"Do you want me to go away, too?" Kurt asked softly.

Blaine's head shot up immediately. "No! I don't... I didn't mean... I don't want you to go away, Kurt, I never want that. It's just that it's so complicated. I wish it wasn't..."

"Blaine, it's okay," he said. "I'm just a little lost here. Is there anything I can do?"

Blaine was avoiding his eyes, so Kurt put a hand to his cheek to make the young lord look at him.

"Anything?" he repeated. It was stupid, putting himself out there like this again, but this second he meant it He would do anything now.

But Blaine only slumped into himself. Some resistance inside him seemed to just give away. "Hold me," he whispered. "Please."

A tiny part of Kurt's heart broke at the tone of his voice. Quickly, he pulled Blaine into his arms to hold him as close as he could. He let his hand roam through the young lord's hair, and let the other hand draw circles over his back.

Blaine was clutching at his back, pressing his face so hard into Kurt's shoulder as if he wanted to bury it there. His breath came ragged, loud and harsh. It almost sounded like sobbing.

"Blaine... it's okay, I've got you... It's going to be okay..."

Blaine shook his head against Kurt's shoulder, but it still took him moments that felt like ages before he said something.

"I'm scared."

Kurt frowned. "Scared?" he repeated. "Of Quinn?"

"Of my father. What if he'll find out?"

Kurt held him tighter, hoping that it would help calm the young lord. "He won't find out."

There was silence for a moment.. "He might," Blaine said eventually. "I did something stupid, I..." He stopped, avoiding Kurt's eyes. "I did something really bad, Kurt."

He closed his eyes, bracing himself for what was sure to come. There'd be a confession, one he didn't need to hear, but one that Blaine in his drunken state needed to make.

"I... When I went with Sebastian... He took me to one of the supply shacks. And he... we... He kissed me, and I... I didn't stop him. I should have, but at that moment, I just couldn't. And I'm so sorry, Kurt, I shouldn't have, but he..."

"Did you lie with him?" Kurt interrupted.

Blaine's eyes were wide, but he shook his head.

Kurt felt at least a little bit of relief wash over him. Still, when he spoke, it cost all of his self-control to sound calm. "You don't have to apologize to me," he said, "I don't have a claim on you, remember? Your fiancée on the other hand..."

Blaine looked at him full of confusion, and maybe a little bit of hurt. "Aren't you bothered at all?" he asked.

Of course he was bothered, but what difference would it make? So he stuck to the lie. "I just want to make sure that you weren't hurt," he said instead.

Blaine was still hesitating, but he spoke again. "I wasn't... but it was a mistake, and I think I owe you an apology."

"You don't," Kurt said, "and don't tell me that is everything that you're so upset about. What else happened?"

Blaine blinked, and even in the little light Kurt could see that his eyes were wet.

"Lord Smythe saw us," he said, his voice hardly above a whisper, "and he could tell my father. I don't know if he will. And if my father finds out..." He shuddered. "I don't know what to do. I don't know what he would do... He'll throw me out on the streets or something... And then what will I do?"

"You'll still have me," Kurt said. "And you can figure out anything else when you have to. Cross that bridge when you get to it."

"More like jump off it when I get to it," Blaine muttered.

Kurt smiled. "See? At least your sense of humor has survived."

Blaine snorted, but it felt as if he was calming down. Kurt, too, felt calmer now. It was enough of a bad situation, even if Kurt had to filter out the image of Blaine with that snake, and also a dangerous situation. But it still held true, they'd cross that bridge when they would get to it. At least the fear he'd had, that Blaine might have gotten hurt, hadn't been justified.

Eventually, Blaine moved away and Kurt let him slide backwards, until they faced each other again.

"Will I though?" Blaine asked softly.

"Will you what?" Kurt looked at him in confusion.

"Will I have you," Blaine said. His voice was soft and hopeful.

Kurt gulped. What happened to his decision a lifetime ago not to get in too deep with Blaine? But it was way too late for that now, anyway. "I'll always be here for you," he said, "I'll be your friend no matter what happens, and I'll stand right behind you, no matter what life will throw at you."

Blaine blinked rapidly, as if he was tearing up. "So if my father kicks me out tomorrow...?"

"Then I'll smuggle out some of your clothes, and then we'll run away to Lima," Kurt said.

A shaky smile appeared on Blaine's face. "And if he doesn't?"

"Then I'll stay at Dalton and make sure you get the best food possible," Kurt said.

Blaine frowned. "I won't stay at Dalton, though," he said. "My father told me, I would go south with Quinn to the Fabray estate." He hesitated, before he continued. "I'd be allowed to take a few servants with me, though..."

Kurt felt a cold grip around his heart. He knew what Blaine was about to ask, and he knew what he had just promised.

"Would you come with me?" Blaine asked.

Kurt wasn't sure whether it would be a good idea. He wasn't exactly looking forward to watch Blaine married to Quinn Fabray. But this did change things. Blaine would be not only miserable, but also alone, far away from his family. And if Kurt would hate watching them, how hard would it be for Blaine to live it?

"I'll come with you," Kurt said. "I won't leave you on your own."

Blaine's shoulders sagged in relief, and before Kurt could even properly take in his smile, he had his arms full with the young lord again.

"Thank you," Blaine whispered into his ears, "and I'm sorry. It's just... I hate this day."

Kurt hummed. "Me too," he said, "but it's over now. The day is over. It's okay. I've got you."

Blaine sank back into his arms, sagging with relief. Kurt tried not to think of Smythe touching him, or of Quinn Fabray getting her hands on him, and to just focus on the boy in his arms. It wasn't how he had imagined holding him in an embrace, but it was all he got.

It wasn't enough, though. Kurt knew it could never be enough. These feelings were just to painful. Howver, it was also just as clear to him that he couldn't abandon Blaine when he was devastated like that. His heart wouldn't allow it.

But now, holding Blaine, as he tried not to think of whatever happened today, Kurt started to wonder for how much longer his heart was going to take this. He was getting tired of it. When would he finally learn and move on?