"Lay down." Kurt ordered, helping Blaine onto the couch.

With a wince and a cough, Blaine settled into the soft cushions. Burt was pacing in the kitchen while he called the local police.

"Do you need anything? Some water, an aspirin?" Kurt asked.

"Both would be great."

Kurt dashed off to fetch the items. On their way to the Hummel household after the incident, Kurt didn't really say what happened in depth. He merely told his father that Jeremiah, David, and some other kid jumped them and beat up Blaine. He didn't bring up the knife, the threat, or anything they had done to him. Kurt figured that wasn't as important as Blaine's injuries, which still remained unknown. He returned with the items and handed them to the younger boy. Blaine tried to take a swig of water, but his body wouldn't allow it. It all came back up just as quick as he had swallowed it. He was hacking and spitting water everywhere. Blaine leaned over a trashcan that had been placed near the couch. Kurt took the cup and placed it on the coffee table while rubbing small circles on Blaine's back.

"Maybe we should wait on the water." Kurt suggested, "How's your arm?"

Blaine looked at his injured arm. The fabric of his sweater had torn, and underneath there was a cut covering roughly half of his upper arm. He hadn't even noticed the cut until now. The blood blended in with his dark red sweater.

"It hurts like hell." He said honestly.

"I should probably call your parents." Kurt pulled out his phone, ready to dial.

"No." Blaine had a small coughing fit.

"Why not?"

He managed to get his hacking under control, "They're not home. They're in Chicago on some kind of get away. They probably won't answer."

"They still need to know what happened, Blaine." Kurt called them, but it went straight to voicemail. He decided to leave a message. "Hello, Mr. and Mrs. Anderson. This is Kurt, and I just wanted to let you know that your son just got beat up by a bunch of kids in a parking lot. He's at my house right now, and we're taking care of him. Please call me back."

"I said they wouldn't answer," Blaine said despondently, "they never do." He had such a gloomy look on his face, which contorted out of pain each time he drew in a breath.

Kurt couldn't stand to see him in that condition. With a sigh, he got up to go to the kitchen, "I'll be right back."

Burt had just got off the phone and was leaning against the counter, furrowing his bow.

"Hey dad."

Burt pulled his so into a tight embrace, "I'm so glad you're okay."

"Of course I'm okay, dad." Kurt pulled back from the hug, "It's Blaine I'm worried about. We need to take to the hospital."

Burt let out a heavy sigh, "How bad is it?"

"He couldn't swallow the water I gave him. I think he might have a broken rib or something. He also fell on his arm and I think it's hurt pretty bad, too." Kurt shook his head, "Why did this have to happen to him? It was me they wanted. I stood up for him and I would have hurt them, too, if it wasn't for that stupid knife."

"Whoa, hold on. What knife?" Burt questioned seriously.

Kurt became evasive, "It-it was nothing. I shouldn't have brought it up."

"Kurt," He demanded, "what knife?"

He rubbed the back of his neck nervously, "Jeremiah had a knife."

"Did he hurt you?"

Kurt avoided the question, "Not exactly…"

"What did he do?"

"It doesn't matter right now. What matters is that we get Blaine to a hospital because I think he may have some serious injuries."

"I'm not too sure about that."

"What? Are you kidding me? He needs medical attention, how could you not give him that?" Kurt snapped.

"Look, Kurt. I'm not saying that he shouldn't see a doctor; I'm just saying that if we took him, there'd be insurance issues and all that. Why don't you call his parents so they can take him?"

"I already called them. They didn't answer." Kurt said bitterly, "Besides, they're in Chicago. They aren't much help over there."

The older man pinched the bridge of his nose in frustration.

Kurt started to sniffle, his façade of emotional stability cracking.

Burt placed his hand on his son's shoulder, attempting to comfort him, "Hey. It's going to be okay."

Kurt shook his head and allowed silent tears to roll down his cheeks. This was a safe place. He knew it was okay to let them fall here.

"Kurt, what's wrong?" His father questioned softly.

The boy hugged his father tightly, "I'd never leave you alone."

Burt was confused as to why he said that. Typically, he would be the one telling his son that he'd never leave him alone, not the other way around. He just hugged back, "I know." He pulled away and patted Kurt's shoulder, "Come on. Let's take Blaine to the hospital."

Blaine wrapped his good arm around Kurt as he helped him into the lobby.

"You boys go ahead and have a seat in the waiting room while I sort everything out." Burt instructed.

Kurt led the younger boy to the nearest chair and they both sat down.

"How are you holding up?"

Blaine winced as he settled into his seat, "Just fine. You?"

"Don't worry about me." Kurt replied.

They sat in silence for about fifteen minutes until Burt returned, "Sorry about the wait. I ended up getting ahold of your parents, Blaine. They said that they hope you feel better."

After a while, a nurse came, and called Blaine back to meet with the doctor. Burt and Kurt sat in uncomfortable silence as they waited for his return. The older man excused himself to use the restroom leaving Kurt to his thoughts. What would have happened if Blaine weren't there to protect him? What would have happened if Kurt hadn't fought back? Things could have been so much worse. The sound of coughing pulled him from his thoughts. Blaine immerged and was shuffling towards him.

"Blaine!" Kurt ran over and hugged him.

Blaine winced, but didn't complain, and hugged back.

"So how bad is it?" Kurt asked, breaking the embrace.

"A couple of bruised ribs and the gash in my arm, but nothing broken."

Kurt glanced over the bandage on his arm and the paleness of his face. Yes, things could have been so much worse.

Burt had decided that Blaine should stay with them tonight so he had some help if he needed it. Kurt let Blaine use his bed tonight, while the older boy made a makeshift one on the floor next to it. He sat in it while Blaine rested in the bed. Now they were alone.

"I'm sorry." Kurt spoke.

Blaine rolled over to look at him, "Don't be. It's not your fault"

"Yes it is."

"How? Did you ask them to do that?"

"No"

"Then it's not your fault Kurt." Blaine saw that Kurt was still upset. He sat up and patted his hand on the bed next to him. The older boy obeyed reluctantly and sat next to him. He examined his face. "It's okay to cry, Kurt. It's always okay to cry if you need to."

"I know," He choked out, sniffling, "thank you. Thank you for standing up to them, you didn't have to."

"Yes I did," Blaine placed a hand on Kurt's knee and stared into his eyes, "Kurt, I will never let anyone touch you. Nobody, not even the rain. You mean too much to me."

The two boys hugged. They ended up sleeping in the same bed that night.