"Hey, bud," Burt greeted Kurt when he climbed into the car after school.

"Hi, Dad," Kurt said, distracted by the sight of Blaine disappearing up the road on his way to Dalton's sister school to meet some girl. Kurt was trying not to seethe with jealousy.

"Kurt?" His father looked at him anxiously. "What's up?"

Kurt turned to face him and smiled. "Nothing," he replied smoothly. "I'm fine." He scratched his ear absently while Burt started the car.

"So, how was your day?"

Kurt's automatic answer of "fine" was out his mouth before he realised he was saying it. He took a breath. "Actually, it was great. Do you remember when I told you about the Christmas fête?"

Burt pulled out onto the road. "Yeah, I remember. You were auditioning with Blaine."

"Yes!" Kurt grinned excitedly "And – and we got it!"

"Oh, Kurt!" Burt looked at him and smiled the most widely Kurt had ever seen. "You actually got it! You did it!" He took one hand off the wheel and patted Kurt proudly on the shoulder. "After everything, you did it." He sniffed loudly and caught himself, putting his hand back on the wheel. "I'm so proud of you, Kurt."

Kurt beamed and leant his head against the back of the seat. He was proud of himself.

"I love you, Kurt."

"I love you too, Dad."

Burt was still rambling about how Kurt had "done it" when they arrived home, Kurt unlocking the door and letting them in. Suddenly, Burt engulfed Kurt in a huge bear hug, holding him tightly.

"Dad, it's not that big of a deal," Kurt laughed.

"Well, it is to me!" Burt replied, squeezing him harder.

At this point, Finn poked his head round the kitchen door. "What's a big deal?" he asked anxiously through a mouthful of chocolate cake.

Burt looked up at his stepson, keeping his hands firmly on Kurt's shoulders. "He got the part he auditioned for!" he cried proudly. "He's presenting the fête – him, out of all those other boys..."

"There weren't that many other boys," Kurt added, raising his eyebrows at the crumbs and icing round Finn's mouth.

Finn licked his lips and shrugged, smiling. "Wow, Kurt, congrats," he grinned. "So you're presenting the Christmas fête?"

"Me and Blaine," Kurt nodded.

Finn gave Kurt a quick guy-hug. "Well, I'll be there to see it, buddy," he promised, before nodded at Burt and heading upstairs.

Kurt shrugged out of his father's grip and started up the stairs too. "Actually, I've got a load of homework," he said. "I'll watch TV with you later?"

Burt smiled and nodded. "Ah, okay, Kurt," he replied.

When Kurt got into the room, the first thing he noticed was Pavarotti's angry chirps and the sound of feather on cage. He rushed over to the windowsill to see the canary throwing himself against the bars of his cage, and carefully unlocked the door, guiding the bird onto his outstretched finger. That seemed to calm him down a bit and he settled for chirping haughtily and puffing his chest out. Kurt walked with Pavarotti to his bed, coaxing the bird into his post which was sat on Kurt's bedside table. Pavarotti ruffled his feather self-importantly.

Kurt walked back to Pavarotti's cage, inspecting it carefully to see what the problem could have been. There was food, there was water, everything seemed to be in order. He sighed and glanced absent-mindedly out the window.

And froze in horror.

Dave Karofsky was leaning against the lamppost on the opposite side of the street. He was chewing something and his eyes were travelling across Kurt's house, taking in every detail (or so it seemed to Kurt).

Finally, after a lifetime, Karofsky looked up at the window where Kurt was standing, rooted to the ground in fear. The moment their eyes met, Kurt felt a surge of energy and he all but fell sideways, stumbling into the corner of his room and sliding down the wall, holding his head in his hands and breathing heavily.

Karofsky hadn't looked angry, or like he was trying to make Kurt afraid. He just... looked. With his jaw stubbornly set. Like a challenge. That was what had scared Kurt so much – Karofsky saw him as an equal but not in a good way. Kurt swallowed, and slowly stood up. He peered through his curtains at the street. Karofsky had gone.

Not knowing what to do, Kurt sat back down on the bed, rubbing Pavarotti's head gently, and trying to calm down. In the end, he pulled out his phone and texted Blaine, hoping against hope he'd text back.

How's your rehearsal going?

Kurt held his phone tightly against his chest and leant back against his pillow, curling his legs up underneath him and not even caring that he was still wearing shoes. He felt tears form in his eyes and tried to blink them back. Courage, he thought. Courage. Courage. Courage.

It was after another few minutes of this that Kurt's phone started ringing. Kurt immediately saw who was calling and answered it. "Blaine!"

"Kurt," Blaine voice came out the speaker. "I'm so glad you picked up, that girl – Nicole – was crazy. I'm walking home now, she just threw me out, it was so weird – "

"Karofsky," Kurt blurted out.

There was a pause: silence, only broken by the rush of a truck, coming down the line.

"What?" Blaine asked quietly.

"Karofsky – he was here – he was outside – oh, god, Blaine, he knows where I live – my dad – his heart – and Finn and Carole – Blaine," Kurt hiccoughed and the tears he had so valiantly blinked away came streaming down his face.

"Did he do anything?" Blaine asked quickly.

"No, no, no," Kurt shook his head despite the fact that Blaine couldn't see it. "He was just – standing – " Kurt took a breath and wiped his eyes with the heel of his hand.

"Is he still there?"

"I – don't think so."

"Right," Blaine said assertively. "I'll be at yours in ten minutes. I see the bus."

"You don't have to – "

"Yes, Kurt, of course I do."

Blaine hung up and Kurt looked at Pavarotti for answers. The bird ruffled his feathers and chirped knowingly, but didn't divulge.

When the doorbell rand nine minutes, Kurt flew down the stairs. There were still tears on his face. He threw open the door and all but fell into Blaine's open arms, pressing his face into Blaine's neck. Neither boy moved for a few moments, clutching one another tightly.

A voice broke them apart. "Oh, hey, Blaine." Finn had just emerged from the kitchen with a bowl of ice cream. When he saw his brother, his face changed. "Oh my god, Kurt, are you okay?"

Kurt guessed that his tear-streaked face and puffy red eyes were not flattering, and he hiccoughed again.

Blaine took control of the situation. "Finn, could you give us a minute?" He stepped inside awkwardly, guiding Kurt's hand into his own and pulling his friend up the stairs. "It's kind of an emergency."

Finn put down his bowl, and looked at them seriously. "What is it?" he asked persistently.

Blaine glanced at Kurt. Kurt sighed and wiped his eyes again. "It's... Karofsky," he whispered.