i'm sorry it's taken so long to update, but honestly? klaine isn't really my thing anymore; i've been converted into a pirate. it's hard to get into writing this anymore, but here's the last bit of text i had; sorry, it's short. :*
The next day
At twelve pm exactly, Blaine found himself with a fist poised to knock on Kurt Hummel's front door. He could faintly hear the sound of music from inside the house. Blaine wasn't sure why he was hesitant—as Santana said, this would be an easy mission. Just make sure that Hummel was safe and secure, while they did the hard work and got rid of Karofsky. Kurt's home was located in the good portion of Lima, all the houses delicate and well taken care of, like the results of matching little cookie cutters.
The Hummel house wasn't an exception to that, looking as if it had came right out of a movie with the little white picket fence and lawn mowed to perfection. Blaine felt a twist in his heart at that. He finally shook himself out of it, and knocked on the door.
"Coming!" A voice exclaimed from the inside, and Blaine could the music being turned down and the familiar sound of dishes clattering together. Within a few minutes, the door finally opened to reveal the boy. Blaine couldn't help be taken aback—Kurt, if it was even possible, was even better looking in person. His skin almost glowed in the light of midday, the light hitting his hair making Kurt look simply divine.
"I'm Blaine," he managed to put out, extending a hand to the slighter boy. "Finn sent me—"
Kurt angrily tossed his bangs back, ignoring Blaine's hand. "Of course he did. I don't want to be babysat, so if that's what you think you are doing, you can just leave, please." Kurt attempted to slam the door, but Blaine managed to weasel a hand inside it before it closed.
"I'm not babysitting you," Blaine informed him, attempting to pull the door open further. Kurt just pushed it harder shut. Blaine winced as he felt the metal of the doorknob jab into his hand. "I'm just making sure that if Karofsky tries anything, he can't hurt you."
Kurt was growing more and more frustrated. "Why does everyone think I'm so fragile? I can take care of myself."
"Please, Kurt, you don't know what Karofsky can do—"
Kurt through the door open, hands shaking in anger., frustrated tears beginning to slide down his face. "Of course I know what Karofsky can do, he's been harassing me for years."
Blaine was taken aback. "That wasn't in the file—"
"Of course it wasn't," Kurt cried, "Finn doesn't know. If Finn knew, my dad would of found out, and I wouldn't put him through that. It was back in high school. I thought… I thought he was finally leaving me alone." His shoulders slouched, and his defiant posture completely disappeared. Blaine hesitated for a second, before pulling him into a hug.
"New Directions is going to take care of him, okay? And I'll keep you safe, okay?" Kurt accepted the hug, and nodded into Blaine's shoulder, tears streaking across Blaine's cardigan.
"I'm sorry," Kurt said, moving back and wiping his eyes off on the sleeve of his dress shirt. "You can come in, I'm sorry for overreacting—"
"It's okay," Blaine said, "You've been going through a lot. I understand." Kurt nodded again, obviously a little out of it, before walking into the house and motioning for Blaine to come with him. Blaine followed.
The house was just as pretty on the inside as it was on the outside, with pictures everywhere and obviously carefully and meretriciously planned out. Kurt led Blaine to a couch located in the foyer, sunlight gently streaming through the window. "Oh," Kurt gasped slightly, grabbing Blaine's hand. "You're hurt, I'm sorry, let me fix that up right now, okay?" In the middle of Blaine's hand was a slight cut, inflamed and obviously painful.
Kurt gently rubbed a few of his fingers on Blaine's palm, gently rubbing against the cut. Blaine groaned as it hurt, a sharp stinging pain burning through the wound. He couldn't help but notice though how soft Kurt's hands were, or how well they fit together, like two pieces of a puzzle joining together perfectly. Kurt covered Blaine's hand with his own for a few seconds, before pulling it away. Blaine couldn't help but let out a sound of amazement at the fact that the wound was now completely gone—the only proof that it ever was there was a slight retreating red spot.
Kurt then folded his legs, and put his hands in his lap quietly as Blaine spent a few minutes marveling at this palm, pushing and prodding at the skin there. After a while of silence between the two, Kurt finally spoke up. "What are we supposed to do now?"
Blaine shrugged, inching closer to Kurt. "Whatever you normally do, I guess. We have a while to wait."
Kurt smiled.