Disclaimer: Glee belongs to Ryan Murphy and Fox, not me.


Blaine tried to still the trembling in his hands as he walked into the pediatrics ward. He couldn't wait to see Kurt, but the thought of trying to explain himself to Kurt's friends and family made him more than a little nervous.

I have to do this, he told himself. If I want to talk to Kurt, I have to get through them first.

The door to Kurt's room was closed. Blaine squared his shoulders and knocked lightly, then stepped back. No one answered; he waited as patiently as he could.

At long last, Carole opened the door. "Blaine," she said, surprised. "I thought you were gone."

"I left for a while, but I had to come back," he said. "May I talk to Kurt, please?"

"No," Carole said quietly. "I'm sorry, Blaine, but now isn't really a good time."

His heart ached. "Then can I please talk to Finn?" he said.

"He left already," Carole said. "Rachel got sick at the sight of all that blood and he had to take her home."

"What about Mercedes?" Blaine said.

"She and Quinn left with them," Carole said. "Blaine, I really think you ought to go home."

"Please, I just need to talk to Kurt," Blaine said, edging a little closer. "It's important."

"I think you've said enough for one day," Carole said. She stood in the doorway with the door partly cracked, blocking both his path and his view inside. "Give Kurt a chance to rest. We'll let him decide for himself if he wants to talk you."

She started to close the door. Blaine stuck his foot in the way. "Please, you don't understand," he said desperately. "I have to talk to him."

"Blaine, honey, go home," Carole said. She was calm, but he could tell that underneath, she was upset. Mostly at him. "If Kurt wants to talk to you, we'll let you know."

She moved to close the door, but a large hand held it open. Blaine took a step back. "Mr. Hummel," said.

"Anderson," Burt said flatly. "I didn't expect to see you back here."

"Yes, well…" he started to say.

Burt turned to Carole and touched her arm lightly. "Hon, can you go sit with Kurt?" he asked.

"Sure," Carole said. She gave Blaine one last long look before disappearing into the room. Blaine looked up at Kurt's father, who leveled his gaze at him, unsmiling and unyielding.

"You want to explain your side of the story?" Burt said.

Blaine faltered. "What do you know?" he asked.

"I'm not real sure," Burt said, folding his arms across his chest. "We come back and my kid is screaming like an axe murderer is chasing him. My stepson's girlfriend is getting sick in the hall, my son's best friend is sobbing like someone just broke her heart, and there's blood spattered everywhere. And you're gone. So what's your side of the story, 'cause to be honest, kid, it ain't looking real good for you."

Blaine took a deep breath. "I didn't hurt Kurt," he said. "I would never hurt him. I went in there to talk to him, and we lost our tempers with each other. He threw a water glass at me and he ripped his IV out. That's when he...he lost it."

"He threw it at you," Burt repeated with a frown. "Explains the glass on the floor. That where you got that bruise?"

Blaine frowned and touched his forehead, wincing when he probed a sore spot. "Yes, sir," he said.

Burt shook his head. "My kid does have a pretty bad temper when he wants to," he said. "So why'd you leave?"

"I can have a pretty bad temper too," Blaine confessed. "I had already said some things I shouldn't have to Mercedes, and I left before I made things worse for anybody."

"But you came back," Burt said.

"Yes, sir," Blaine said. He did his best to keep his voice level. "I never meant to hurt him, or abandon him like that. I really wanted to apologize."

Burt glanced over his shoulder towards his son, then back to Blaine. "What did you two fight over?" he asked.

Blaine paused, choosing his words carefully. "I suspected that Kurt knew more than he's been letting on," he said at last.

"You know what's going on with him?" Burt said. He shook his head, scowling. "God, I knew he was lying to me."

"I don't know exactly what he's hiding, but I have my suspicions," Blaine said. He clenched his hands at his sides. "I gave him an ultimatum this morning. I told him that either he could tell you everything by tomorrow morning, or I would tell you what I know and let you handle it from there."

Burt's gaze could probably bore through stone at this point. "What do you know?" he asked in a low voice.

"Mr. Hummel, I gave him my word," Blaine said. "I promise you, if he doesn't tell you by first thing tomorrow, then I will sit down with you and the detective and tell you everything I know. I would do it now, I want to tell you now, but I think you know as well as I do that if I break my promise, Kurt will never trust me again, and we might never get him to talk freely about what happened."

Burt sighed and rubbed the bridge of his nose. "You think you can get him to talk?" he said.

"Yes, I do," Blaine said. "Please, Mr. Hummel, if I could just see him-"

"I told you, Blaine, it's okay if you call me Burt," he said. "And I'd be happy to let you talk to him, but he's asleep. They had to sedate him, he won't wake up for a couple more hours."

Blaine swallowed hard. "Then please let me stay with him tonight," he said.

Burt straightened. "I don't know about that," he said warily. "I was gonna stay with him."

"I can do it," Blaine begged. "I can stay awake with him all night." Burt still didn't look convinced. "I think Kurt will be more upset if you stay with him. He always worries about your health."

Burt rubbed the back of his neck. "Yeah, Carole's been on my case about that too," he said. He looked down at the floor. Blaine shifted his weight, trying his best to remain patient.

Finally Burt put his hand on his shoulder and looked Blaine right in the eyes. "Tell me straight," he said. "You care about my kid?"

"Yes," Blaine said quietly. "I really, really care about Kurt."

He stood steady under Burt's searching gaze. Finally Burt held the door open. "Come in here," he said.

Blaine stepped tentatively into Kurt's room, his heart thumping against his ribcage. Carole sat beside Kurt's bed, her back to them, but she turned when he walked in. "Burt?" she said. "What's going on?"

Burt cleared his throat. "Blaine's going to stay with Kurt tonight," he said. Carole opened her mouth to argue, but Burt interrupted. "You're right. I've been pushing myself too hard, and I don't want to give myself another heart attack, not while Kurt still needs me."

Carole's eyes narrowed. "Are you sure?" she said, and Blaine knew that she was asking a lot more than she said.

"I'm sure," Burt said. Blaine hung back in the doorway as Burt walked over to Carole, put his hands on her shoulders, and kissed her lightly on the top of her head. "Can you give us a minute? I'll be right out."

"Sure," Carole said warily. She squeezed Burt's hand and got up, but she shot Blaine a look that clearly stated that if you mess up again, you'll certainly regret it. Blaine just looked down at his shoes.

Burt sat down heavily in the chair beside his son's bed. He was silent for a minute, then he glanced back and beckoned. "C'mere," he said.

Blaine approached slowly. His heart still thudded hard, but it seemed like everything stopped when he finally dared to look at Kurt.

Kurt slept heavily, his lips parted. His skin looked translucent, lined with thready veins. His unblacked eye was shadowed with dark circles, and his breathing was shallow under the blankets. The palm of one hand was wrapped tightly with bright white bandages.

Burt leaned back in his chair and folded his arms. "That IV needle," he said quietly. "It nicked the vein on the way out. That's why he bled everywhere."

"Oh," was all Blaine could say.

"The doctor said that seeing all the blood was a trigger, made him remember what happened in that damn parking lot," Burt said. "He had a panic attack. They had to sedate him before they could take a good look at his hand."

Blaine swallowed hard. "I never meant to hurt him," he whispered.

"If you're telling me the truth of what happened between you, then you didn't hurt him," Burt said. "I know my kid. I've seen what he gets like when he gets worked up. Losing his temper at you…that's about par for the course."

"I shouldn't have made him upset in the first place," Blaine said.

"And he shouldn't be lying," Burt said softly. He leaned forward and placed his hand on Kurt's forehead. "You know, I love Carole, and I love Finn like he was my own, but…Kurt's my kid. I was there when he was born, and I raised him by myself when his mom died. He's my little boy, and nobody's ever gonna get me to think otherwise."

He smoothed his big thumb over Kurt's forehead, brushing his hair back, then bent and kissed him lightly. Blaine took a step back as Burt pushed himself out of the chair. "I know my kid trusts you," Burt said. "And I'm glad you're doing your best to respect him, but please. If you can't get him to talk, then you have got to tell me."

"I will," Blaine promised. "I'll do anything for him."

Burt put his hand on Blaine's shoulder. Blaine bit his lip. He might have said too much.

"Good luck, kid," Burt finally said, and with one last backwards glance at his sleeping son, he left the room, the door closing behind him.

Blaine swallowed hard. The room was far too quiet now.

He shrugged off his coat and draped it over the chair. What am I supposed to do now? he thought.

He slid his hands in his pockets and walked over to the window. The hospital parking lot was bleak and boring, the dark sky blurred by gray clouds. He rested his forehead against the window, the glass cold against his skin. I don't know what to do, he thought helplessly.

He heard a soft noise and turned around. Kurt twisted a little in his sleep, his lips pressed together. Blaine crossed quickly to the bed and studied him anxiously. Oh, God, I still don't know what to do…

Tentatively Blaine placed his hand over Kurt's. His fingers felt smooth and cold and bony under his, but the bandage rubbed against his palm. "Hey," he whispered as Kurt whimpered in his sleep. "Hey, it's okay. I'm here. I'm not going to go anywhere."

Blaine sank down in a chair and scooted a little closer. Kurt seemed to quiet down, his facial muscles relaxing. Blaine rubbed Kurt's fingers. "I'm not going anywhere," he repeated softly, and he knew that he had made the right choice by coming back.


Someone was holding his hand.

He couldn't see anything, and his head ached powerfully, and his mouth was paper-dry, but he knew someone was holding his hand. He contracted his fingers slightly, trying to get the person's attention.

"Kurt?"

He knew that voice.

"Kurt, are you okay?"

He struggled to open his eyes. That's all he wanted. If he could just open his eyes…

His eyelids finally cracked open. The room blurred around him, but he could still feel the warm firm grip of the hand on his. "Hey, you're awake," he heard a familiar voice say.

Kurt tried to raise his free hand to rub the sleep from his eyes, but his arm was too heavy. "It's okay," that blessedly familiar voice said. "Don't move too fast."

He closed his eyes tightly for a minute, then opened them. The room shifted into focus. The overhead lights were turned off, but the bedside lamp was turned on, casting a soft warm glow. He turned his head slowly towards the voice.

Blaine smiled at him, his amber eyes gentle. "Hey, there," he said warmly. "How are you feeling?"

Kurt swallowed hard and licked his dry lips. "Thirsty," he rasped.

Blaine rubbed his thumb over his knuckles. "Want me to get you some water?" he asked. Kurt nodded and winced against the sudden throbbing pain. "I'll be right back, okay? Don't worry."

Blaine gave his hand a final gentle pat and got up. Kurt swallowed again. His head ached as he tried to think back. He couldn't remember much of anything. He didn't even remember falling asleep.

Blaine walked back in the room with a full glass of water in his hand. "Can you sit up?" he asked.

"Maybe," Kurt said. He braced his good hand on the bed and tried to move.

"Do you want me to help?" Blaine asked.

His arm shook. "Uh-huh," he whispered.

Blaine quickly set the glass down and wrapped his arm around Kurt's shoulders, drawing him up slowly and propping pillows behind his back. "Is that better?" he asked.

Kurt offered a slight nod. Blaine held out the glass of water and cupped Kurt's hands around it. He did his best to keep his hands from shaking as he raised the glass to his lips. The cool tap water flooded his dry mouth and trickled down his throat.

"Don't drink too fast," Blaine said gently. "I'll get you more water if you're still thirsty."

Kurt drained the glass dry. "Thanks," he said. "That's a lot better."

He held out the empty glass. "Thanks for not throwing it at me," Blaine quipped, the corner of his mouth tugging up wryly.

Kurt frowned. "What?" he said.

Blaine blinked. "You don't remember?" he said.

Kurt looked down, catching a glimpse of the bandage wrapped around his hand.

He argued with Blaine. He lost his temper. He threw something. And then…blood, and screaming, and a needle piercing his upper arm.

"Oh," he said in a small voice. He looked up, stricken, at Blaine.

"It's okay," Blaine reassured him quickly. "Don't worry about it. I shouldn't have made a joke."

Blaine seemed so different, for some reason. Maybe it was because he wasn't used to seeing him out of uniform. His long-sleeved tee shirt was rumpled, like he had slept in it, and his dark hair fell carelessly over his forehead, barely obscuring a bruise on his forehead. Kurt stared at it.

"Did…did I do that to you?" he faltered.

Unconsciously Blaine ran his fingers over the mark. "It's nothing," he said. "It doesn't even hurt. I promise."

"I'm sorry," Kurt said, unable to tear his eyes away from the bruise. "I didn't mean to."

Blaine sat down beside him. "Kurt, do you remember why were fighting?" he asked.

"Not really, I don't think…" he started to say, but even as he said it, he could see it playing out in his head, like a movie he didn't want to watch. He remembered sitting up in bed, screaming at Blaine, and Blaine leaning over him, screaming too, taking every angry argument and hurtful word that Kurt shot at him and throwing it right back.

Kurt closed his eyes. "You were angry about Finn," he whispered. "Because I talked to Finn instead of my father."

"That's right," Blaine said, clasping his hands and resting them on his knees. "Look, Kurt, I had no right to get so angry at you. And I'm sorry for losing my temper. You didn't deserve that."

"Yes, I did," Kurt said. He tore his eyes away from Blaine and stared at the floor on the opposite side of his bed. "I shouldn't have told Finn. I know he's upset over…over all of this, and I…I used it against him." He rubbed his eyes. "I can't believe I did that."

"Kurt, you're scared," Blaine said.

Kurt crossed his arms across his chest. "It's not a real excuse," he said. He pressed his trembling lips together. "I did this to Finn before, once. I…I knew I could do it again, and…and I did it on purpose."

"Kurt, it's okay," Blaine said, placing his hand on the bed.

"No, it's not," Kurt said. He inhaled sharply, trying to calm his choked breathing. "I screwed up. I've screwed up everything, and I don't know how to make it better."

Blaine got out of the chair and sat down on the edge of Kurt's bed. "Hey," he said softly. "Hey, hey, it's okay. Calm down."

Kurt didn't look at him. "It's not okay," he said. "Nothing's okay."

"Yes, it is," Blaine said firmly. "You're not a lost cause, Kurt. You never have been, and you never will."

Kurt bit his lip sharply. "Yeah, right," he said bitterly. He threw his hand down against his knees, making his bandaged hand throb. "There are so many things I've messed up. I just…I don't know what to do anymore. I don't know what I can do to fix this."

Blaine fell silent for a moment, tapping his fingertips lightly on the bed. "Why do you feel like you're the only one who can fix things?" he asked quietly.

Kurt let out a soft, bitter laugh. "Because that's what I've always done," he said. "After my mother died, I just…I got used to doing things on my own. My dad had enough to deal with, he didn't need me making it worse for him."

He flexed his stiff hands, feeling the skin under the bandage pull strangely. They must have given him stitches. "And now I'm just used to it," he said. "I can take care of myself. I don't…I don't need people babysitting me. I'm fine. I'm always fine."

"Until now," Blaine finished quietly.

Kurt clenched his fists. "I don't know what to do," he whispered. "I know I should tell somebody what happened, but I…I can't, he'll…"

He clamped his mouth shut and closed his eyes, taking a deep shuddering breath. All the things he wanted to say were on the tip of his tongue, but just like every other time, he forced himself to push it aside. He wanted to talk. He really did. But he couldn't bring himself to do it.

At last, Blaine broke the silence. Kurt felt him lean towards closer. "Did I ever tell you what happened to me?" he asked softly.

Without thinking, Kurt turned to look at him. "No," he said, startled.

Blaine folded his arms and looked down the blankets that covered Kurt's bed. His hazel eyes were soft and far away. "Three guys caught me outside in the parking lot," he said. "I said some stupid things, got them mad. It only last a few minutes, but…it felt like days."

Blaine leaned over and pushed up the right leg of his jeans. Kurt couldn't look away. He tugged it all the way up to his knee, revealing a thick pale scar that widened and stretched over his kneecap. "Thirty-seven stitches," he said ruefully.

"I'm sorry," Kurt whispered.

Blaine pushed the hem back down. "My sister found me," he said. "Francey's always been pretty tough. You know…the kind of girl who laughs instead of cries, and it startles you to the point that you start laughing too. She was the one who drove me to the hospital."

He took a deep breath, running his fingers through his dark curly hair. "They were really busy in the emergency room that night," he said. "Bad car accident on the ice, five cars of people were brought in. They couldn't take me right away. So Francey…"

Blaine's voice trailed off. Kurt tentatively reached for him, then drew back. He didn't know what to do.

"Francey pitched a fit until they put me in one of the triage rooms," Blaine said. "She made me lie down, with her scarf wrapped around my knee, and she held my hand, and she kept telling me it was going to be okay." He clasped his hands together tightly. "It wasn't until my parents got there and the doctor came in that I realized that she was crying too."

Kurt didn't move. He didn't dare.

"My sister never cries," Blaine whispered.

He bit down hard on his lip. Kurt hesitantly put his hand on Blaine's knee. He couldn't feel the scar through the fabric of his jeans. "I'm sorry," he said.

Blaine raised his head. "You don't have anything to be sorry for," he said quietly. "Not because of what happened to me. Or because of what happened to you."

He reached over and took Kurt's hands, folding his fingers around his. "You do know you didn't do anything to deserve this, right?"

Kurt looked away sharply. "I know," he said in a low voice.

Blaine gently placed his fingers under Kurt's chin and tilted his face back towards him. Kurt couldn't fight him. "I don't think you're convinced," he said. "Kurt, you haven't done anything to deserve. And you certainly didn't do anything to deserve carrying this entire burden by yourself."

Kurt froze. "I…I have to," he whispered. "I don't…I can't…"

Blaine kept Kurt's chin in his gentle grip. "Please tell me," he said softly.

Kurt tore away from him, digging his hands into the blankets. "Blaine, I can't," he said. "I…I can't, I don't know what to do anymore, but I just…I just can't…"

"Kurt, please," Blaine said. "Please, just talk to me." He put his hand on Kurt's thigh, the slight pressure warm and scary and oddly comforting. "You trusted me once. I was the one you called when Karofsky kissed you. Just trust me again."

"I can't," Kurt whimpered. His hand throbbed and his head ached and his stomach twisted. "I've made it this far. I'll be fine. I'm fine."

Blaine's hand tightened on his thigh. "Kurt, when you first confided in me, you came to me because I was a mentor," he said. "You opened up because I knew what you were going through. Being teased, being harassed…I know what it's like. And no, I don't know what you're going through right now, but I want to help you."

"I can't," Kurt whispered, his throat tightening.

Blaine pressed in closer. Kurt could smell the warm scent of his skin and the cinnamon gum on his breath. "Please look at me," he coaxed.

Kurt turned back towards him slowly, his heart pounding against his ribcage. Blaine was so close to him, his eyes bright and gentle. "What will change your mind?" he whispered. "Is there anything?"

"I don't…I don't know," Kurt faltered. "I just…Blaine, no, I can't, I'm fine, okay, I'm fine!"

Blaine slid off the bed, drawing his hand away from Kurt's leg. "Would it change your mind if…if I told you something?" he asked softly.

"I don't know," Kurt said, still clutching the blankets.

Blaine stood with his knees pressed against the side of the bed. He slid his hands in the back pockets of his jeans, a soft smile playing on his lips. "Did you know that I fell in love with you the first time I saw you?" he said.

Kurt stiffened. Silence roared in his ears. He couldn't breathe. He couldn't see straight.

"You were…you were standing on the staircase, clutching the strap of your bag like it was a lifeline," Blaine said. "You were talking to me, and all I could think about was…how blue your eyes were."

Kurt stared at the far wall, unable to turn and look at Blaine. He didn't dare.

"I've tried not to be in love with you," Blaine admitted. "The last thing you need is to have someone be in love with you, and get you all mixed up in relationship drama on top of everything else. So I've been…I've been trying to push all of that aside."

Kurt tried to take a deep breath, but all he could manage were short, shallow pants. If his heart beat any faster it was going to explode.

"But I realized, Kurt…that's I'm not just in love with you," Blaine said. "I…I love you. I love you to the point that I would do anything for you. Anything at all, if I only I knew that it was what you wanted, and it would help you and it would make you happy."

Kurt heard a soft, heavy thump, and he turned around before he could stop himself. He caught his breath. "What are you doing?" he whispered.

Blaine knelt on the ground beside Kurt's bed, his head bowed. "I love you," he said simply. "Will you let me?"

"Blaine, don't," Kurt said. "Get up."

Blaine didn't move.

"Please," Kurt pleaded. "Blaine, you can't…you don't mean it."

"I do," Blaine said. "I mean it, Kurt. I wouldn't lie to you about something like this. I love you." He looked up, his eyes shining. "And I will do whatever I can to help you."

Kurt stared at the blankets, his breath tightening in his lungs. Say it, he told himself. Say it, say it, say it. Say it now, before you can take it back.

"It doesn't matter if you can't say it back, or even if you don't love me too," Blaine said. "My needs don't matter right now. Just yours. I love you. I'll do anything for you."

Kurt twisted his hands in the blankets, watching his knuckles whiten. He dug his teeth firmly into the side of his cheek. Say it, say it, say it, he thought.

"I love you," Blaine repeated.

Kurt felt the stitches tug against the back of his hand. He felt his heart vibrating in his ears, his breath constricting his throat, his muscles tightening unmercifully. Say it, say it, say it…

"Karofsky."

Blaine looked up. "Kurt?"

His eyes stung. "Karofsky did it," he whispered. He dug his hands into his blankets until he could feel the fibers under his fingernails; he stared wild-eyed at the blank bland walls. "Karofsky found me in the parking lot. I didn't know it was him at first, it was so dark, and I couldn't see, but he pulled back and it was…it was him."

Blaine stood up quickly, leaning over the edge of the bed. "Oh, Kurt," he breathed.

Words spilled out, faster, slurred together in his haste. "He wouldn't stop kissing me," Kurt said. "He…he tasted like alcohol, and I don't even like alcohol, and he kept jamming his tongue in my mouth, and that still wasn't enough for him. He didn't stop. He didn't stop anything, not even when I begged him to. I just wanted him to stop, and, and I was screaming, and I couldn't stop, and then he was hitting me, and…and…he said he was going to kill me, and he was, he was trying to kill me."

The last vestiges of self control abandoned him. Kurt doubled over on the bed with his arms wrapped tightly around his stomach, his head swimming and his body aching. His eyes burned and his throat felt tight; when he tried to keep talking all that came out was an awful strangled noise.

"Kurt, it's okay," Blaine said. "Tell me what you need. What do you need me to do, right now?"

Kurt knew what he wanted to say, but he couldn't bring himself to do it. He couldn't speak anymore. He made himself look up at Blaine, forcing his eyes to focus on him. "Blaine, I'm scared," he whispered. "I'm so scared."

Blaine leaned one hand on the bed and reached down with the other, tugging quickly on the laces of his sneakers. He kicked his Converses to the floor and climbed onto the bed, making the mattress dip under his weight. "I know," Blaine said, scooting closer to him. "I know."

Kurt pushed himself back up into a sitting position. Blaine was so close to him, so warm, so reassuring. He reached out a shaking hand and gripped Blaine's sleeve. "Please don't go," he whimpered.

Blaine wrapped his arms around him, careful of his sore shoulder and his broken ribs, and pulled him against his chest. "I won't," he promised. "I'm not going anywhere, Kurt. Nothing you can do will push me away."

Kurt let out a sob, burying his face into Blaine's chest. He felt Blaine's hand brush through his hair. "I'm here, Kurt, I'm right here," he murmured. "I won't leave you. I love you."

He cried then, cried in earnest, burying his face in the ridges of Blaine's ribs and collarbone and bawling in big, ugly gasps that broke out of his throat and contorted his reddened face and made his eyes swell. He sobbed as if his heart would break, and Blaine held him tightly, never relaxing his grip, never pausing in his steady stream of soft, reassuring words.

Kurt sagged in Blaine's arms, his sobs gradually beginning to quiet. "You're okay," Blaine soothed. He moved his hand to the back of Kurt's neck, gently rubbing his thumb in small warm circles. "You're going to be okay. I promise."

Kurt felt Blaine shift beneath him, leaning back against the pillows. "Are you sure?" he asked, his voice small and faint.

Blaine drew him closer, until his head was resting on his shoulder. "I'm sure," he said. He kept his arm around Kurt, cradling him against his warmth. Kurt let out a stray sob, and Blaine's arms tightened momentarily. "Sh, it's okay."

Kurt huddled close to him, craving the warm sturdy nearness of Blaine's body against his. The physical contact made a little of the ache in his heart fade, and he took a deep steady breath. He felt exhausted, and sleep was already beginning to crowd on the edges of his vision. "Thank you," he rasped.

He felt Blaine's chest rise and fall lightly against his cheek in a faint laugh. "You don't need to thank me," he said. Kurt's heart skipped a beat as he felt the impossibly light brush of Blaine's lips against the top of his head. "I love you."

Kurt cuddled close to Blaine, his cheek pressed to his shoulder, relishing his warmth and his gentleness and the spicy-sweet way he smelled. For the first time in months, he felt safe.

"I love you too," he tried to whisper, but he fell into deep, peaceful sleep before he could say anything, and Blaine didn't hear him.


Author's Notes:

I thought this chapter would be easier to write. But it wasn't. At least, not at first.

I wrote the first part, the conversation with Burt, on my iPod while I was at work. I launched into the Blaine and Kurt conversation when I got home, and I was like..."oh. Whoa. Wow. I am talking in circles." There was literally part of it that I rewrote four or five times because I just wasn't happy with it. I even had to go eat some chocolate to see if I could get myself into a happier mood.

But then I went back to it, and got into the "I love you" part, and everything fell into place.

So Blaine has told Kurt he loves him. And Kurt feels the same way, although Blaine doesn't exactly know that (and Kurt was very highstrung and still slightly medicated at the time). Only three more chapters, and the first act will be done!