I swear

by MissZenno

Kurt is sent to Dalton Reform School for Boys after he commits a horrific crime. He expects the uniforms, the strict teachers, the counselling, but he doesn't expect the endearing group of criminal teenagers to take him under their wing.

13. Perfect

A/N You guys. YOU GUYS. I CAN'T EVEN. BECAUSE THE UPDATING LACK AND I CAN'T AHHH. I'm sorry. GAH I feel bad
trigger involving self-harm
Disclaimer: I do not own Glee

---

"Justin."

"Hmm?" The brown-haired boy looked over with a raised eyebrow from his bed where he was on his laptop to Blaine, who was entering their room and closing the door behind himself.

"Can you leave the room for a sec? I need to make a call," Blaine explained carefully, keeping his eyes on the boy as he moved slowly towards his own bed. When his roommate said nothing and made no response to his statement, he added, "It's important. And…private."

The other boy grunted, but returned his gaze back to the screen in front of him. "Why don't you leave?"

Blaine sighed and sat down on his mattress. "I don't have anywhere else to go where no one will overhear it. Justin, man, come on. I'm hardly ever in here… Can't you just go out to the lounge or something?"

The clicking of typing on his keyboard continued and Justin finally glanced up to Blaine, then back to his screen. "Why are you naked?"

Blaine blinked and looked down to himself, realizing he had never put on any other clothes than Kurt's boxers. "Oh… Well… I was over at Kurt's and—"

"Nevermind. Don't wanna hear it… And I won't listen in on your little conversation, okay? I don't care about whatever you're talking about… You can make your call."

Blaine rolled his eyes and grabbed his phone from his bedside table and looked to the message where he texted himself a number from Kurt's phone. He pressed call and held the device up to his ear, hearing it ring… Once… Twice…

"Hello?"

Blaine took in a sharp breath at the slightly confused, but also slightly familiar voice coming in on the other end. "Is this Finn?"

"Yeah? …Uh, who is this?"

"It's, um… It's Blaine…"

"Kurt's…?"

"Yeah, Kurt's boyfriend, Blaine." He immediately cursed himself for his words as he looked over to Justin, and the boy was giving him a raised-eyebrow expression. He let out a scoff, returning to his laptop. Justin knew Blaine was gay. And he knew him and Kurt were…involved, at least on some level from what he'd walked in on a few times. Calling them 'boyfriends' was just a more tender term that could end up being regretted at a place like Dalton.

"Oh, okay… What's up?" Finn's voice was casual, as though Blaine was just calling to chat, but then it turned more panicked and serious. "Wait, what's going on? Is Kurt okay?"

"I – yeah. I mean, yeah, he's okay… He just…" Blaine let out a sigh, not sure how to word everything.

"Dude, seriously. You're freakin' me out."

"Fuck. I just… I don't know how to say this. Kurt… Well, he's on a new dose of medication. Okay?"

"Yeah, I know that. Our parents told me."

Blaine ran a hand through his curls, which were still slightly damp from his shower with Kurt, and let himself flop down onto the bed. "Well… I think he's…not adjusting very well… To the change, I mean. He's been kind of…" He trailed off for a moment, trying to think of wording, "…out of it, I guess. He's been missing class and group and meals. He hasn't gotten in trouble for it yet because he just said he's not feeling well. And our group therapist and the personal ones, too, they're supposed to be watching for signs and everything, but they're not because they haven't noticed anything, even though he's been kind of bad for a couple weeks now and it's pretty fucking obvious, I mean seriously. He – he's been having ups and downs and it's like, some days he's fine and others he's really depressed and just sleeps and sleeps, and it freaks me out because he hardly even talks to me, which is unusual, because we talk a shit ton when we're together. A-and I tried telling this to him, but he won't listen to me about going to the medical center, a-and I looked up his medication's side effects and, in teenagers especially, there's a risk for suicide and—" he cut himself off from his rant, taking in a long shaky breath, not realizing he'd gotten choked up at some point during his long ramble.

There was a silence for a few good moments during which Blaine was catching his breath and trying to calm down.

Finally, Finn spoke. "Has he…? He hasn't tried to again, has he?"

Wait… Again…? Blaine was almost taken aback by the question. "To—? To kill himself—? N-no… No, I mean, that's why I wanted to do something. I can't let him to get to that point."

"…Hmmm… Well… Did you, like, talk to someone there?"

The curly-haired boy let out a humorless, weak scoff, shaking his head. "Yeah… They didn't do anything…"

---

Blaine sighed and knocked on the partially open door, poking his head in and looking around the small room. "Ms. Webber?"

The woman was sitting behind a desk, seemingly concentrating on the paperwork in front of her. When she heard the boy's voice, she snapped her head up to see Blaine standing slightly awkwardly in the doorway, but didn't give him much focus as she turned her attention back to the papers. "Mr. Anderson, is there something I can help you with?"

The boy in the doorway blinked and hesitated, opening his mouth but not actually speaking, letting his discomfort getting the best of him. Ms. Webber looked up after a few moments of silence, noticing this behavior and pushing her paperwork aside slowly, watching him closely, seeing him looking uncomfortable.

"Blaine, please come in. Sit down." He did as he was told and took a careful seat in the chair across from the counselor's desk, still not speaking. "Is there something troubling you?"

Ms. Webber's job didn't include being available to students for their personal appointments. She was solely a group therapist. Regardless of this job description, she tended to care deeply for her group members and was often concerned for their well-being, and told her students to talk to her if they needed, even if she came off cold at times.

"It's about Kurt."

She nodded slowly and blinked as Blaine let his eyes fall to his lap. "Are you two having disagreements? I can schedule a meeting for the two of you to—"

"No, no. He's… We're not fighting…"

She took in his genuine concern and became slightly confused, though curious. "Do you want to tell me what's going on with him?"

He nodded slowly, and took a breath. "It's his medication. I think he's… He's having problems with it."

"Kurt's been on his medication for almost a year. Are these symptoms new, or—?"

"Yes, I mean – It's since he got a dosage change…"

The counselor sighed. "Blaine, this really shouldn't be a concern of yours. And I haven't noticed anything that should be a problem, and as his friend, you aren't the best person to be making these observations—"

"He's my – I mean, we're… We're boyfriends," Blaine blurted out, closing his eyes after letting the words escape him, not really knowing why he had said them.

The woman raised her eyebrows. "I wasn't aware that you two were…" She blinked and cleared her throat. "From what has been said in group, I understood that you two were…involved, but I didn't know you were exclusive with each other…"

Blaine opened his eyes and looked at her intently, determined, and nodded. "We are. We're…really close and… And I'm noticing things and I'm fucking worried about him."

"I understand that, but Blaine…" She put her hand up gently, seeing his frustration brewing and choosing to ignore his language. "I can't be jumping to contact his psychiatrist to make changes anytime someone else says he's been acting different. It's up to us as his advisors to monitor him, and it's up to him to contact us if he's feeling side effects."

Upset, Blaine stood abruptly and let out a frustrated sigh. He was about to say something, anything to make his point, but the look on his therapist's face told him it would be in vain. He let out a noise of aggravation and left the room without any other words.

---

"Well… That sucks, dude. Um, not to be…" Finn trailed off on the other side of the line, and Blaine pressed the phone closer to his ear. "But why did you call me? Burt's in charge of all his medical stuff."

The curly-haired boy pressed his lips into a line. "His dad…?" He heard an affirmative hum from Finn, even though he already knew Kurt's dad's name and was more shocked than anything. "Well… I didn't think it'd really be a good idea for me to call him…" There was silence on the phone and Blaine could practically see the confused, blank look on Kurt's stepbrother's face. "…I just don't think he'd really take anything I say too seriously…"

"Dude. If it was about Kurt, he'd listen… Or my mom. She's a nurse, she'd know about the stuff that's going on with his medication… I can talk to her. And Burt."

"I…" Blaine sat up slowly in his bed, trying to wrap his mind around this. "You'd tell them? I mean, like, you think they'll believe all this, even if it was coming from me?"

"…Why not?"

The curly-haired boy blinked, licking his lips. "I guess… Well, it happens. Trust me… Anyway, thanks for doing this…Finn. I'm… I'm just really fucking worried about him."

"Uh, okay. Yeah. Yeah, no problem, man."

"Well… I'll…see you some other time, Finn."

"Yeah, uh… Blaine?"

Right as he was about to press 'end' on his phone, he heard the tall teen say his name. "Yeah?"

"Thanks. You know, for caring about him, and stuff. It's good you told me."

Blaine was taken aback by this, but smiled, glad that no one could see him grinning like a goof at this moment of sincerity. "Yeah. No big… Bye, Finn."

"Bye."

---

"Oh, fuck," Thad breathed, his eyebrows shooting up as he jumped back in surprise at the person standing at his door. "Blaine, you scared the shit out of me," he raised a single eyebrow in question as the curly-haired boy continued standing and staring at him. Thad stepped forward and closed his door behind him, moving fully out into the hallway, watching his friend as he did so.

"Is Kurt…? He's still in bed, isn't he?" Blaine asked, a mix of concern and frustration in his voice.

Thad glanced briefly to the door behind him, and nodded. "Um… Yeah. He got up and showered…but then he sort of just went back into bed and fell asleep. I asked him if he was going to class, and he told me to fuck off." At Blaine's disbelieving look, he added, "Seriously. He said the words 'just fuck off, Thad.' So I left… I'm getting freaking tired of trying to drag his ass to class."

Blaine sighed and nodded. "No, I… I get it. Thanks for…trying, I guess. I'm gonna go get him, though. He really needs to go to class."

"The nurse came to look at him yesterday after I checked him in as sick," Thad rolled his eyes and sighed, "and she said he was fine and should go to his classes. They're gonna know if he's faking it now."

Blaine nodded as Thad stepped aside and began walking down the hall to breakfast, and he opened Kurt's door and walked inside, seeing a wet, pale, admittedly pathetic version of his boyfriend lying on the bed in a pair of boxers, also damp from not properly drying off.

He wanted to be sad. And comforting. And to hold and kiss and sooth this poor boy, but he needed to be real. He needed to get Kurt to class or he was going to fail and get expelled, and that mean getting up now.

"Kurt." No response. "Kurt. Babe, get up. We're going to class."

That earned a low mumble and a subtle shift of the otherwise motionless body in front of him. Another soft hum was let out and the pale boy cracked open an eye, seeing Blaine and then twisting to glance at his bedside clock. "Mmmm… Blaine, baby, what are you doing? You should be at breakfast," Kurt mumbled over the last part through a yawn and Blaine moved towards his boyfriend's wardrobe.

"No, I'm skipping breakfast. And we're going to go to class today…" He began pulling out a uniform blazer and tried to find a pair of pants that weren't rumbled and dirty on the floor. "…You didn't tell me the nurse came by yesterday…" He mumbled offhandedly.

Kurt grumbled and scooted up more into his bed, and pulled the covers over his body. "Oh… Yeah…"

Blaine blinked and looked over to his boyfriend, staring as he saw he wasn't moving to get up. "Um. Yeah. And she said you're not sick and need to go to class? Come on, get up. We don't have that much time before Chem." The curly-haired boy walked over and pulled his boyfriend up to a sitting position, to which he obliged, and began helping him into his white uniform shirt, trying to button it up for him as the pale boy watched his hands sleepily. He soon began working his tie.

"I'll go tomorrow, Blaine. I haven't even done my moisturizing—"

"Stand up. Put your pants on." The pale boy sighed and did as he was told, pulling on his slacks, though becoming more awake as he did so. Blaine dug into his jacket pocket and pulled out his old pocket watch, reading the numbers. "Come on, put on your blazer. We can still get to breakfast if we leave now… I know you haven't been eating much."

Kurt just grumbled in reply, knowing it was true but not caring.

Kurt realized that was generally the case with everything going on with him. He knew he was not right. He knew he needed to do something. He knew something was wrong.

He just didn't care.

So what if he was feeling just as depressed as before he started any medication?

So what if he just really felt like sleeping and hardly wanted to talk to anyone?

Yeah, he realized this was happening. And it was happening because of his medication.

What were they going to do? Keep changing around his dosage, screwing with his brain and chemicals?

Fuck it, he thought as Blaine ran a hand down his back as they sat down at the breakfast table, surrounded by a surprisingly quiet group of Warblers, Doing anything would just be too much effort.

After Chemistry, Kurt walked absently with Blaine, Jeff, and David, making their way somewhere or other. He didn't quite remember. He was brought out of his thoughts by a shaky sigh and he turned to see his blonde neighbor with his tongue out, poking his lip ring the way he did when he was nervous. His eyebrows were knitted together and he seemed about as out of it as Kurt felt.

"Jeff…"

The boy didn't respond, and the other two walking with them took notice. David raised an eyebrow.

"Jeff…? Man, are you okay?"

At this, the blonde turned his eyes towards them, but not without subtly flicking them in the direction they had just come from. "Y-yeah…" He didn't sound very convincing, and the three boys with him gave him looks that said they didn't buy it. Jeff sighed. "I just really hate that class."

Blaine and David nodded slowly, not entirely sure what to say to such a comment. Kurt, though, blinked and thought back to his lab partner's recent returned tests, and remembered him failing a couple. Jeff was doing poorly in Chemistry. While he sometimes had made mistakes during experiments or forgotten the atomic mass of an element occasionally, he tended to get A's and B's in science.

Kurt trained his eyes on the blonde boy as they came to the wall of Arts, searching his face that had returned to its worried expression.

That was odd.

---

"Mr. Duval," Ms. Webber's voice was calm and content as she scribbled a last note on a boy that just spoken. She looked up at the dark-haired Warbler. "Anything else you'd like to talk about today? You seem excited about something," she noticed his jittery form.

Nick stopped the movement that was his leg jiggling and shaking his entire body, and gave her a look of confusion. "Hmmm?" A few boys laughed and Jeff half-smiled at him fondly from the seat beside him.

"He's not excited about anything," Kurt sighed dully, seemingly bored. "His antibiotics for his chlamydia are drying out his genitals and his STD-infected body can't handle the itch," he spat out and rolled his eyes, slouching down in his seat and sighing again, this time letting his eyes shut.

The boys in the room all fell silent and shifted slightly uncomfortably at the apparent attitude. Blaine put a hand on Kurt's thigh and moved it up and down in a soothing manner. He looked up to their counselor pointedly, jerking his head in the direction of his dreary boyfriend, his eyes narrowing, thinking back to her saying she hadn't seen any signs.

She nodded and flipped her clipboard pages to Kurt's sheet. "Mr. Hummel…" When he didn't respond, she sighed. "Kurt."

"What?" His voice sounded forced and tired, and he opened his eyes slowly.

"How are you feeling? You've been missing classes…"

"And group and meals," Blaine breathed quickly at the woman, irritated. Kurt snapped his head in his boyfriend's direction and narrowed his eyes at him, and moved to shrug his hand from his leg, crossing his own arms defiantly.

"Have you been having side effects of the medication change?" Ms. Webber cut back in, looking at the pale boy expectantly.

Kurt blinked a couple of times, letting his eyes find the floor. "… I don't know…" He felt Blaine tense up, and the silence in the room was difficult to breathe through. "No."

She watched his face intently, seeing nothing there. "You're sure? Your fatigue might have been signs of—"

"No. I was just tired."

"Have you had mood swings? Thoughts or actions of suicide—?"

"No! …I'm fine… I'd know if something was off."

The woman nodded, but she did notice he seemed irritated more than he usually would allow himself to be. "Well… Alright, if that's all and no one else—"

"No, I want to share again today," Blaine interrupted her, announcing with a loud voice and a hand-raise, his eyebrows up.

Ms. Webber nodded slowly and gestured a sweeping hand to him. "Alright."

He blinked a few times and took a breath, shifting his body to be more faced towards his boyfriend. "I…am worried about Kurt." The pale boy just stared at him, no anger or surprise on his face, just a blank expression. "He – You," he spoke to Kurt now, "You've been acting differently… And you don't think it's your meds, but I just, I know it has to be…"

Kurt furrowed his eyebrows and sighed. "Blaine… I just said that I'm doing fine with—"

"You're fucking lying," the curly-haired boy argued, his voice calm but stern. Kurt was taken aback by this, then his face morphed into a look of anger.

"I'm not lying, Blaine! I know myself, and I know—"

"There's more stuff going on than just him being tired," Blaine cut Kurt off, turning to say this to Ms. Webber. "Did you know that? Huh? He's been – moody. He's been getting stomachaches and – and stuff. We…" He looked at an angry Kurt before returning his gaze to the woman, lowering his voice slightly. "There's been other issues…"

"What are you talking ab—?" Kurt tried.

"Sexual issues—"

"Blaine!" Kurt screeched, smacking his boyfriend's shoulder hard.

"Kurt, is this true?" Ms. Webber asked tentatively, her eyes darting between the two boys.

The pale boy sighed and covered his face with hands, groaning, "Oh my god…"

"A few times, he hasn't been able to…get it up… And it's like, sometimes even after forever, he won't…you know—"

"Blaine. I am going. To kill you."

"Mr. Hummel, you know we take threats of violence very seriously at Dalton… And if these are issues you're experiencing, you need to tell someone—"

"It's my life! It's my sex life! I can't believe you're doing this!" He growled the last part at Blaine, who looked slightly apologetic, but still determined.

"Babe, look, I googled the side effects of your meds, and those things are on the list. It's why it's happened a few times, and—"

"Thanks for telling everyone that I'm…not…competent—!"

"No, Kurt, you are," Blaine hesitated and turned to look at the other boys in the room, "He is, you're just… You need to fix your medication—"

"I can't believe this. I can't believe you, Blaine," Kurt said quietly, his voice trembling as he stood up and stormed from the room, abandoning his shoulder bag and blazer near the chair he had been sitting in.

The complete, eerie silence that had been suffocating the room was broken with the sound of bags being packed and boys putting on blazers as they made their way out of the room calmly, leaving Blaine sitting in his chair speechless, their counselor the only other one in his company as the room emptied.

"Blaine…"

"No, I just… I shouldn't have said it in front of everyone… I'm a fucking idiot." She came to sit down beside the curly-haired boy, and watched him closely.

"Those things you said. Are those true?"

Blaine felt almost offended by the question. "Uh, yeah. I wouldn't lie about that… I'm just… I'm so worried about him," he sighed, and his voice suddenly broke on the last word and he felt himself starting to tear up. He considered attempting to blink away the tears, but let himself go instead.

His body fell forward and he let his head rest between his knees and cried.

The counselor simply sat beside Blaine and let him exhaust himself with tears for a couple minutes until his breathing returned to its even rhythm. "He's good for you, isn't he?"

Blaine let out a few remaining shaky breaths and raised his head, digging into his eyes with the heel of his hands, then faced Ms. Webber with red eyes. "…What do you mean?"

"I've never seen you like this before… Blaine, when you first came to Dalton, you put up the strongest wall I've ever seen. You fought anyone that came within ten feet of you, you hardly said anything that wasn't sarcastic or rude, and you… Once you came out to everyone, you slept around with anyone that would be available, not to mention your ongoing struggle with heroin." Blaine looked shocked at this, and she tilted her head. "There were times when I was aware of your using. To be honest, with the way the security and guest system is set up here, there wasn't much I would be able to do. I know you're clean now. I can tell."

Blaine took in a shuddering breath and nodded slowly, one of his hands going up to his chest to run over the permanent ink there. "Kurt. He – Kurt helped me through the whole thing. I went through withdrawal and… He was there for me during all the shit…"

"I have to say… I've never seen you so…vulnerable, Blaine. You've been letting yourself be so real with everyone—" Blaine let out a noise that interrupted her, something between a grunt and a scoff. "It's a good thing, Blaine. I think he reminds you that you're allowed to be yourself with people… That you don't need your wall. You let your wall down with him and look what happened…"

"…I fell in love."

Ms. Webber hadn't been looking exactly for an answer, as it was more of a rhetorical statement, but she raised her eyebrows at this, slightly taken aback. "Love?"

Blaine blinked a few times, realizing exactly what he'd said, but nodded very slowly regardless, feeling only slightly defensive to protect his pride, but letting it go. "Y-yeah… We… He loves me, too… We just sort of… It just happened. I don't even know when we got so close… I feel like my whole life has changed since he came here… I feel like I honestly forget I'm supposed to…try to act different, and put on a strong face. I just go through a whole day and then at night, when I'm lying in bed, I think back and realize I hadn't thought before talking or doing and didn't stop myself from saying things that I wanted to just because I was afraid I was gonna be…judged, or beat up, or whatever… I just let myself…be," he made a face at his own words, but blinked and looked up to the woman, narrowing his eyes as though silently asking her if that made sense. "I just feel like I'm different. And it's because of him. And I can't… I can't fucking lose him."

"You won't, Blaine. I know you're very close to him and worried, but you have to realize that it's not the end, here. You're right, he has been acting differently, and today's session alerted me to some things he hadn't been being honest about…"

The curly-haired boy sat up straight in his chair, giving her a look somewhere between hope and surprise. "So, you're doing something?"

At her apparent hesitation, he sighed. "Blaine, I can't simply say I'll change his medication. It's not my job. I'll recommend a session with his private psychiatrist to determine if a change is necessary."

Blaine slumped down into his seat in relief, letting out a long sigh. "Thank fucking god… So he'll be fine?"

Once again, Ms. Webber looked hesitant before speaking, and Blaine was impatient in hearing her response. "He's going to have to be honest about what he says to the other therapist… If he says he's fine, and doesn't behave in a way that implies otherwise, she'll deduce him as fine…"

"B-but, what about your recommendation?"

"It's only a recommendation. I'll tell Mrs. Parson what I know, but it's her job to come to a conclusion. I'll do what I can do, but like I said before, he has to tell the truth." The woman sighed and crossed her arms over her chest, first resting her clipboard on her folded legs, blinking a few times behind her glasses.

Blaine seemed irritated at this. "But what if he lies? Isn't it your job to take care of him? To see if he needs it, not to ask him!"

"Blaine, calm down. I'm going to talk to him tomorrow during group and after if I still need to, but you two are… You two are closer. If you talk to him, it might be more effective than if I do."

The curly-haired boy furrowed his eyebrows and brought a hand up to wipe his face, biting his lip absently. "I've tried, but… I mean, he's worth it, so I'll try to talk to him later today… Maybe do some convincing," he rolled his eyes, then stilled, realizing how that came out.

Ms. Webber cleared her throat, averting her eyes and looking at the clipboard in front of her.

"I didn't mean… I don't… You know… We don't have sex," he decided to tell her slowly, watching her face for her reaction, which was mildly surprised.

"You don't…"

He shook his head back and forth, then opened his mouth but hesitated before he spoke. "No…" He drew the word out slowly, thinking before speaking. "I know, it's weird, right? Because we've been together for, like, three months and I used to sleep with guys all the time… It's… After everything that happened with the rape and… I didn't want to push him. I wouldn't do that," he paused, closing his eyes. "And me, too. I never got forced like he did… But I never did it in a relationship before… And I realized it doesn't even matter. I like being close with him like that, but when we're not, we do other things, too, which is really awesome… Just hanging out and laying together… Does that make sense?"

"Yes, of course…" The woman smiled almost wryly. "It's called being in love…"

Blaine let himself smile at this, a swell of emotion suddenly taking over him. A swell of remorse for embarrassing Kurt. And a well of longing for everything to be okay with Kurt. "I can't believe some of the things I say and feel sometimes. It's kind of weird because I feel kind of…like an emotional bitch… But also I like it, because I feel like I'm finally getting older and understanding the stuff that other people mean when they talk about love and life and connecting with people… I don't think very many people my age feel this kind of stuff… I doubt Trent and Thad and those guys would get what me and Kurt have… I just feel different."

The dark-haired woman sighed and smiled, tilting her head and clasping her hands together in her lap. "I can tell you're different…"

Waiting for elaboration but getting none, Blaine raised his pierced eyebrow. "How?"

"I don't think you've ever talked to me for five minutes before this past week without having to. I'm proud of you, Mr. Anderson."

---

"I know you're out there," Kurt grumbled through a sigh, closing his eyes, "I can hear you shuffling around and you keep grabbing the doorknob and letting go."

Blaine raised an eyebrow and eyed the wood in front of him. "Are you right up against the door?"

"Yeah…"

The curly-haired boy blinked. "I… Can I come in?" There was silence. "Kurt, can I just please come in…? I'm sorry… I…" He sighed when there was still no response. "I just want to see you… Don't shut me out, babe."

A noise of shuffling against the door sounded, and Blaine took that as a sign to open it. When he did, Kurt was standing a few feet from the door, his expression tight and pained, his arms crossed over his chest. Blaine's heart fell when he saw his boyfriend's eyes were red, a clear sign that he had been crying. And Thad wasn't in the room, so he had been alone.

"C'mere," Blaine murmured sadly, shaking his head, not even caring that they were supposed to be fighting, or Kurt was supposed to be mad, or whatever. He tried to stop the shaking of his lip as he moved forward with his arms out, going to embrace the pale boy.

"Blaine," Kurt said warningly, his voice tinted with slight anger and hurt, and he made the slightest movement to back away, but not really. Because he let Blaine hold him, because he really wasn't that mad, and he melted into the warmth of his boyfriend, and as soon as the touch was initiated, he crumpled into the curly-haired boy's neck, tears forming, his voice trembling, "B-Blaine…"

"I'm sorry—"

"I know…"

Blaine felt himself choking up and nuzzled his nose to his boyfriend's ear, breathing in shakily. "I-I really, Kurt, I'm – I didn't mean to—"

"I know, Blaine. I… I'm sorry, too…"

Blaine sucked in one last quavering breath and pulled back slightly, letting out a shaky sigh, and nudged his boyfriend slightly. "Let's… Let's sit on the bed."

"Okay."

They did, or more so laid down, and faced each other, neither entirely sure what was happening between each other.

Blaine knew what he wanted to say. But he didn't know how.

"Kurt," he started slowly, and the look on his boyfriend's face made him know that he understood this conversation might be difficult. "I want you to… You need to talk to someone…"

Kurt averted his gaze and worried his lip between his teeth and Blaine tilted his chin up to catch his eyes. "I… I know, Blaine."

Blaine's eyes closed with relief for a moment and he opened them again with the slightest smile on his face. "Good… Good, so… You'll tell someone…? You'll do something to fix this?"

Kurt blinked a few times, and nodded very slowly, seemingly thinking hard about something. "I'm scared," he finally confessed softly, his eyebrows knitting together. "They keep changing stuff with the pills and what if it doesn't work? Can't I just…stop taking them?"

Blaine started shaking his head halfway through his last sentence, his face determined. "Kurt, no. You – you know it doesn't work that way," he reached a hand out and desperately gripped the slight boy's hip, rubbing a small circle where his shirt lifted to expose skin. "I can't let anything happen to you…"

Kurt inhaled softly and nodded, then let his glasz eyes bore into Blaine's and leaned forward to connect their lips, letting out a soft hum at the electricity. At least he still felt love when he kissed Blaine. That hadn't died. Yet.

He let out a needy whine and dug a hand into his boyfriend's curls, relishing in how it seemed to be the only thing that made him feel anymore. He lazily rolled on top of Blaine, both of them letting out soft, breathy sighs as they kissed languidly, hands moving around in soft touches, nothing more than hot fingers tracing over backs and arms and waists. Nothing more.

"I love you," Kurt whimpered, burying his face in Blaine's neck when he pulled away from the kiss, his hot breath making the hair stand up there.

Blaine ran his hands over his boyfriend's hair softly, panting quietly and looking at the boy the best he could from the angle. "I love you, too…"

Kurt nodded his head and dug his hot face closer into Blaine's skin, his breathing coming out shaky. The curly-haired boy simply continued stroking his hair, every once in a while tangling and curling a piece around his finger, and letting the day pass by. After what felt like a long time, Blaine felt the distinctive trembling shoulders and could feel the warm tears on the skin of his neck.

"…What's wrong?" he asked hesitantly, trying to think over what had happened, and if anything had suddenly gone wrong. But he got no response. "Kurt…"

"Nothing," the pale boy sniffled, pulling away from his boyfriend's neck and sitting up to face forward.

"Kurt—"

"Really… I'm just… I just feel like shit," he stated bluntly, looking to Blaine with sad but serious eyes. "Nothing's even wrong, I just feel…sad. It's been like this…"

Blaine scanned Kurt's face and let out a soft breath, leaning toward him to place a chaste, smoky kiss on his lips, then pulled away to see his eyes. "It'll get better… You'll get better. You'll talk to them and they'll fix it and you'll get better…" The pale boy didn't react to this, but simply stared ahead, his face still contorted in some kind of pain and worry. "Babe… Promise me you'll talk to them…"

Kurt nodded slowly, and squeezed his eyes shut, a last stray tear dripping from an eye, and let out a shaky, "Okay."

---

"I've got a fever of a hundred and three," Jeff sang – mumbled – as he stepped into his boxers after he dried off from the shower. He ran a towel over his hair and hummed quietly under his breath. As he went to brush his teeth, he caught sight of the clock hanging above the mirror.

7:14

"Nick!" The blonde squeezed toothpaste onto his brush and began scrubbing his teeth. With still no response a few moments later, he spit some of the foam from his mouth and checked the time. "Nick! It's 7:15! You better get up, you need to shower still!"

A few seconds, and then—

A loud grumble could be heard along with some ruffling of bed sheets and—

Crash!

"Shit!"

The dark-haired boy stumbled into the bathroom and began stripping off his shirt and socks and boxers hastily, making his way to the shower and yanking the knobs of the faucet. Jeff watched absently from the reflection of the mirror, continuing to brush his teeth.

They only had one bathroom. And they both needed to get ready in the morning. They often changed and showered in front of each other due to this. After all, they'd been best friends since they were seven when Nick told Jeff his watercolor painting of Saturn for the solar system project looked good. So seeing each other naked wasn't a big deal.

Nick sighed loudly, and Jeff blinked, coming out of his daze and glanced into the mirror again, seeing Nick's bare ass in the reflection, the running water of the shower going unused, and turned around after spitting the toothpaste from his mouth. "What?"

Nick made to move, then hesitated, but let out another sigh. "Nothing, it's just… Does this still look weird to you?" He turned around to face him, gesturing to his genitals, and Jeff whipped around, his face immediately flooded red.

"Nick!"

The dark-haired boy raised an eyebrow and flinched back at the loud shriek, feeling embarrassed. "W-what? It's just – It's all red and weird still! I don't know if the pills are working!"

"For fuck's sake, Nick! Just – shower! We're gonna be late!" The blonde let his face calm down from the blush and grabbed a comb from a drawer, bringing it up to pull through his hair. Nick rolled his eyes and stepped into the spray, first sending a quick glance behind himself at his roommate.

A few minutes passed, and Jeff began rummaging through the counter's contents to find shaving cream, and began applying it to his face.

"Jeff?" Nick's voice sounded from the shower, slightly muffled by the water flow and curtains. "You still in here?"

The blonde sighed, spreading the gel around his face, turning it into foam with the motion. "Yeah?"

A bit of silence where the sound of the shower was the only thing audible passed.

"Are we weird?"

Jeff raised an eyebrow at his own reflection and paused in his shaving gel application, letting out a low, humorless laugh. "Are you kidding me…? We're car-jacking teenagers that sing in an a cappella boys' choir… Yes." He rolled his eyes, wondering exactly where the question came from.

Nick yanked open the shower curtain, and Jeff turned around at the sound, and froze, surprised by the intense look of serious worry on his face. No one spoke for a moment. "No… I mean… You and me… Are we weird? Since… Well, I mean, we…kissed. Are…things weird between us…?"

Jeff bristled at this and inhaled sharply. "Are you—? You're just saying this because I won't look at your dick, aren't you?"

Nick looked embarrassed and tensed, but nodded. "Yes. Yes, I am… You never cared about us being naked in front of each other before! You wouldn't have given a fuck if I asked you, and now you're all—! Now you're acting all weird! I'm not gay, you know! I don't want to jump your bones, or something, I just want your help!" Jeff just stood, shaving cream partially dripping from his face, time running out before class, brown eyes wide as he gave his roommate a confused look, tinted with hurt. "We were drunk, Jeff… It happens. And you kissed me, first, anyway," Nick mumbled the last part and turned sharply back into the shower. "Whatever, okay? I'll fucking go back to the nurse if you're too freaked out to look at me, or something."

Jeff felt his throat tightening up, the grumbled voice of his roommate not disguising the dark-haired boy's hurt. He could tell. He knew when Nick was sad and hurt and embarrassed. Because they had been best friends since they were seven.

Just say it, Jeff clamped his eyes shut, willing the tears not to fall. Just say it.

He wiped off the wasted shaving cream with a towel and trembling hands, the tears in his eyes making his vision blurred and his eyelashes heavy and dotted with tiny beads of wetness.

He left the bathroom.

Not today.

---

"Burt?"

The man hummed absently in response, not taking his eyes away from the program he was watching.

Finn blinked at the lack of reaction and stepped forward, near the television to get his attention. "Burt, I need to talk to you about something."

This time, the older man seemed surprised at the request, but clicked the T.V. off, readjusting on the couch and giving the tall teen a genuine look of interest. "Alright, I'm all ears. What's up, kid?"

Finn seemed conflicted for a moment before awkwardly scratching his neck and moving to sit on the couch beside his stepfather. "It's Kurt… His boyfriend called me, and was freaking out and saying Kurt isn't doing good—"

"Whoa, whoa, is he okay? I didn't hear anything from that school of his or anything," Burt sat up and looked intently at Finn, who bristled under the attention.

"Yeah, he's – I mean, I guess he's okay. It's about his medication and stuff. Blaine said he's been having some weird reactions to it, like he's been really depressed and stuff and doesn't talk that much. Since he started taking more, I guess? He tried talking to him and to the school, but they didn't do anything and he's worried about him."

Burt nodded slowly, and took off the cap he was wearing to run a hand over his head, blinking thoughtfully. "I'll call the school tomorrow morning. See if they can get him back on the other amount or if we need to do something… You know, I… I was worried changing up his meds like that when I wasn't around to see if he was acting different, but they said they'd keep an eye on him… Guess they don't do as good a job as they think…"

Finn just sort of stared at the man like he did when he wasn't really sure what to say, but ended up just giving the slightest of awkward smiles and nodding. "Yeah, I guess…"

The man leaned back into the couch, still looking contemplative. "So… His boyfriend, huh? Seems like he's doing good under the job title if he's been watching after Kurt…"

The teen seemed sort of surprised at the topic change, but nodded. "Oh, he – Yeah. Yeah, he's real cool. Blaine's a good guy… I think it's good Kurt has him there."

Burt grunted quietly, taking a sip of his drink that had been on the end table. "Yeah, maybe… I think I need to see this kid again… When he's not sucking down smoke or fresh off hard drugs."

---

"Hello, Dalton front office. How may I help you?"

The man sighed, and Carole pressed a reassuring hand to his back as he clutched the phone in his hand. "It's regarding my son. I've…become aware that there are some problems with his medication and I want to know who to talk to about this."

"Hold on one moment, sir," there was some keyboard clicking, "What is your son's last name?"

"Hummel."

More clicking.

"Kurt?"

"Yes. Kurt Hummel."

"Alright, well, is this a follow-up call resulting from a notification from his psychiatrist? Were you informed of these problems from our faculty?"

Burt sighed again, annoyed that he couldn't just press a magic button and fix this whole damn problem. "I – no. My stepson actually talked to my son's boyfriend there and was told that he was having bad reactions to his medication change. I wanted to make sure something was being done about this…"

"Son's boyfriend… Alright," she repeated his words, not in a judging tone, but more in a way that was simply repeating, contemplative, considering the best option. "Well, from what I have on the records in front of me, there aren't any scheduled appointments for him to meet with his psychiatrist, so one most likely hasn't been made… Would you like me to connect you to his personal or group therapist?"

"…Uh, yeah, okay."

"Alright… The students only meet with their personal therapists occasionally… Natalie Webber, his group therapist, would be more likely to have more information on his condition. I'll connect you to her line, alright Mr. Hummel?"

"Yes. Thank you," Burt turned to his wife as the connection was being made, and reached out with his other hand to grab one of hers, squeezing it tight.

"Hello?"

"Is this Natalie Webber?"

There was a slight sound of shifting on the other line and then speaking. "Yes it is. Is there something I can help you with today?"

"Yes… This is Burt Hummel. I'm Kurt's father."

"Oh, of course… This is interesting; I was just going to contact you later today after the group therapy meeting with your son."

"Is he okay? I mean, I was told about the problems he's been having with his meds and I wanted to make sure something was being done…"

She sighed on the other line. "Yes, Mr. Hummel—"

"Call me Burt."

"Burt, I was going to have a meeting with Kurt after our group session and set up a meeting with his psychiatrist. Now… In order for Kurt's dosage to be fixed, he must give reason that it needs to be."

"Meaning…?"

"He needs to talk to his on-campus psychiatrist about the side effects he's been having, and she'll take a look at how he's acting and feeling. Of course, you always have the ability to override the decisions made by his doctor, but because you haven't been around to observe his behavior, I wouldn't suggest making a blind decision…"

"But if other people are seeing that he needs a change, he's psychiatrist will, right?"

There was a brief moment of silence and slight crackling on the line from the connection. "I'm sure that will be the case… If you don't mind me asking, was it a student that informed you of this behavioral change?"

"…Yes, it was a boy that goes to school with Kurt."

"Blaine Anderson?"

The man paused, blinking a few times. "Yes. Yes, it was Blaine… How did you know?"

"…He came to me as well to discuss your son. Together with him and my own observations, I decided to talk to him and recommend a change with his psychiatrist…" Ms. Webber paused. "Your son and Blaine Anderson are very close, Burt… With so many students and problems around Dalton, situations can fall through the cracks without getting noticed… With Kurt's condition and history, close friendships are a good thing to have…"

"They're… You know they're in more than just a close friendship…" Burt smiled softly despite himself, and he could tell that the woman he was talking to was smart. She had to know about the two boys.

"Yes…" The slight smile could be heard in her voice. "I've become aware…"

There was a short pause in the conversation, but Burt picked back up on the topic. "Now, what exactly will the other doctor be doing with his meds? I have to consent to all that, right?"

"Yes. Yes, of course. I was going to contact you later today, because Kurt is a minor, he still needs parental consent to be appointed to his psychiatrist for concerns other than prescription refills… Can I assume then that you consent to me recommending a meeting?"

"Absolutely."

There was some sound of scribbling on paper as she spoke. "Perfect. And of course you will be notified if or when there are any changes made with his prescription to consent to those as well… Well, if there's nothing else to the matter—"

"There's one more thing… I…" Burt paused, taking a glance at Carole, who was sitting beside him now at the kitchen table, mug in hand, giving him a reassuring smile. "When we were figuring out my son's medication before he was…at Dalton… There was a bad trial period of quite a few ones that didn't work… He…" The man's throat closed up and he found himself unable to speak.

Luckily, Ms. Webber seemed to understand his train of thought. "Yes… I have on his record that he attempted twice and was admitted to the hospital for one instance."

Burt nodded, even though she couldn't see him. "Yes… Until everything's worked out and…even after… Just when things aren't back to being good yet…" He paused, feeling Carole's hand on his. "Does Dalton have some kind of suicide watch program he can be set up in?"

There was a long silence, and both sides of the line were breathing quietly, until Ms. Webber came to her thoughts. "Of course. We have an excellent support system we can set up for him until he's in a stable condition."

"…Thank you. So much… For everything you do for him."

"It's no trouble, Burt. It's my job and I find Kurt to be a great kid… I'll be in touch."

"Thanks again."

"Goodbye."

---

It wasn't something he did often.

He really had only done it a few times.

Kurt sighed as he sat on the edge of his bathtub, post-shower, turning his shaving razor over in his hands.

It was an odd thing. And Kurt was completely aware of what it all meant. Maybe that was the problem.

He snapped the head off of the disposable razor and tossed the handle into the trashcan. Taking his roommate's lighter, he made a flame and held the top of the item over it, watching slowly as the plastic melted.

It was as though he knew that doing this would result in bad things and wanted to do it anyway, or maybe even for that reason.

The plastic burning made his nose itch, and he bent the now-pliable material until a fire-hot blade dropped onto the floor from the mangled tool.

Kurt felt sick. He was so far gone in his own head that he felt like he needed to be further. He felt some kind of odd satisfaction in knowing he was getting himself into a sick, twisted downward spiral, because it almost felt more right in his current state to be distancing himself.

Picking up the blade, he blinked a few times, holding his breath as he pressed it so lightly into the thin skin near the crease of his elbow, clamping his eyes shut as he heard and felt the skin split, his pulse quickening as his body reacted to the harm.

He dropped the blade to the floor, opening his eyes and holding his arm to his face, inspecting the wound as though it was natural, and not self-induced, and watched the tiny red beads grew. The blood on his wet skin spread, finding the creases and natural grooves of his pale arm, seeping and watering down to a light pinkish clear tint.

He remembered the first time he had done it.

And it was accidental and disgusting as he had dropped a steak knife that had just barely grazed his skin as it had clattered to the floor. And on instinct, he had brought his skin to his mouth to suck the wound, trying to stop the blood, and something broke in him. And he had removed his arm from his lips slowly, picked up the knife and pressed it to his skin again, this time hissing in the horrible feeling and not doing it again for a good while.

And again this time, he snapped from his thoughts and looked to the thin line he had made, horizontal and shallow, and brought the skin to his lips, holding it there as he stood and made his way to the drawers in the bathroom, bringing out a small bandage and placing it over the wound, knowing that spot would be covered by his white uniform oxford, even when he had the sleeves rolled up.

It wasn't okay. He knew that much. But he felt this pull to do it.

To feel it.

And to see it.

And to know that he had done it.

To be able to press onto his arm through his shirt and the bandage and feel the familiar sting that came with a small cut, and getting intoxicated with the sick feeling it gave him, being somehow comforted in the idea that he was distancing himself.

Kurt wondered for a moment why he was distancing himself and why he needed and wanted to.

And he realized he was mad.

Mad at his father and psychiatrist for changing his medication again, and not really listening to him asking about getting off of it entirely.

At his therapists for not somehow fixing this whole thing better, like they were supposedly supposed to.

At the doctors or pharmacists or scientists, or whoever designed his medication, for not doing a better job, because he had been on this new, new dosage for two weeks now and felt less shitty, but more emotionless, aside from his outbursts.

Mad at his friends, for still being around him even though all he did was yell at them or cry or storm out of Warbler practice because for fuck's sake do they really think I want to be singing right now?

And he was so fucking mad at Blaine, for loving him and caring for him and holding and kissing and soothing him when all he did was sit there and hardly respond, and forget or neglect saying 'I love you,' back, and for putting his god damn self in pain by staying around him while all he did was bring the curly-haired boy down and cause those little lines between his thick eyebrows to appear when he would turn away from his kisses or forget to talk during their conversations.

Kurt was mad at himself, for knowing it was all happening, and letting it all happen, and making it all happen.

---

"And so… Then Nick literally jumped at him and bit him…on the shoulder. It was fucking hilarious," Blaine mumbled with a smile, running his fingers over Kurt's palm and looking into the boy's hand, slightly dazed. "Trent was freaking out… Nick's been acting sort of more insane lately—"

"Blaine—"

"I don't know if it has to do with whatever is happening with him and Jeff, or what—"

"Blaine."

The curly-haired boy looked up to his boyfriend from where they were both laying on the bed, finding Kurt's eyes gazing ahead, not even making eye contact. "What?"

"It's almost curfew." When Blaine continued to just stare at him, saying nothing, not understanding exactly, Kurt faced his boyfriend. "You should go."

Blaine tensed at this, blinking and beginning to sit up. "O-oh. Yeah. Okay…"

He thought to the days when they'd skip curfew to be together. Or sneak into the halls to make out.

Kurt seemed to see the hurt on the other boy's face, so he squeezed lightly on his hand, initiating Blaine to do the same, looking to him hopefully. "I don't want you to leave… I just don't want you to get caught again."

"I know, babe… It's fine," Blaine tried to smile, but it came out looking sort of tight and sad, and after standing up by the side of the bed, he leaned down to kiss Kurt softly on the lips, his heart fluttering when the pale boy actually sort of kissed back. "Um… I love you…"

Kurt just stared at the wall in front of him, looking distracted, and hummed in response, not saying anything.

Blaine nodded, and slowly made his way to the door, but as he went to grab the doorknob, he hesitated, reaching to grab it once more, but deciding finally to turn around, approaching Kurt's bed again. "Um, actually… Kurt?"

The pale boy looked up at this, looking at his boyfriend curiously, seeing he hadn't left yet. "Hmmm?"

"Maybe… I was just thinking…" He paused. "Maybe I could stay with you tonight… We can talk and I know you're back's been hurting, I could give you a massage…" When Kurt looked skeptical and was about to ask about curfew, Blaine continued. "Thad could go sleep in my room to be there during curfew check—"

"What about Thad?" the dark-haired boy spoke loudly and with attitude from his place in his bed, reading, not taking his eyes away from the words.

Blaine gave Kurt a quick look before going over to Thad's bed, causing him to look up from his reading. "Come on," was all Blaine said quietly, giving the boy a look that said so much. Everyone knew how Kurt was struggling, and Blaine staying with him would probably be a good idea.

After a couple seconds of thinking and focused eye contact, Thad rolled his eyes and hopped from his bed, sighing. "No – yeah, that's… Whatever. That's fine." He quickly stripped off his slacks and tugged on some sweatpants, grabbed his book, and began making his way to the door, looking to Kurt who just seemed surprised at the interaction and favor. "Later, Kurt. B."

A few moments passed, and Blaine stripped down to his boxers, climbing into bed with Kurt, who was already clad in sleep clothes. The pale boy still wore an expression of shock on his delicate features. "What was that?"

Blaine shrugged a little, nudging Kurt softly to flip over onto his stomach, and when he did began kneading his shoulders and neck. "It's a rare occurrence, but Thad can be a good person… He was just being nice."

Kurt let his eyes fall shut at the contact, his eyelashes fanning out over his cheeks, and hummed in response. "I guess… Mmmm, little lower – mmmm…" Kurt let out a soft, breathy sigh, his mouth hanging open at the feeling of Blaine's fingers digging into the knots of his back muscles. "Feels so good…"

Blaine's lips twitched up fondly at the boy in front of him, happy that he was able to do something for Kurt that made him feel better, if only slightly. "Good… Here, take your shirt off, I can get at your back better," he moved away from Kurt and patted his thigh, indicating he sit up to strip from his shirt.

Kurt paused for a moment, but realized the marks he had probably wouldn't be noticed. "Uh, okay," he sat up and pulled the garment over his head, tossing it off the side of his bed quickly, immediately laying back down and tucking his arms up under his pillow above his head, sighing as Blaine's hot hands met his skin.

"Kurt?"

"…Hmmm?"

"Babe, how have you been feeling lately?" He moved to straddle Kurt's ass, massaging and pressing with his weight into his muscles. "It's been almost two weeks since you've been on that new stuff. Have you noticed anything?"

Kurt turned his head to the side so his boyfriend could hear him better, but closed his eyes. "Mmm, I don't know… It hasn't really been long enough to tell…"

Blaine's eyes shifted around thoughtfully, and he nodded, but paused in his movement on the pale boy's back. "Just…" He sort of leaned down to be closer to his face, though straddling him, "you know, tell me what's going on with you, okay? I don't want to be in the dark when it comes to all this stuff…"

Kurt nodded, feeling a tear drip by his cheek, and turned his head back forward as Blaine resumed his massage. "Um, Blaine?"

"Yeah?"

"I… I love you, too."

The curly-haired boy just smiled and bent down to kiss the back of his pale neck softly, and continued the soft touches.

---

"For number 22, did you guys get negative five over four?" Blaine pinched the bridge of his nose with his thumb and forefinger, then glanced up to Wes and David, who were both scanning their own work.

"…For 22? No, I got six," Wes said slowly, raising an eyebrow at Blaine.

"Same," David piped in, shrugging at Blaine, but stopping to look at him after a moment.

"What? Dammit," the curly-haired boy mumbled as he vigorously scrubbed his work with his eraser.

"B, are you okay? You're usually the one getting these all right…" David commented coolly, setting his work down and exchanging a quick look with his roommate.

"No – I know. I'm just… I'm really stressed out about Kurt and everything. He's been…not getting better and I just…" He finished his sentence with a frustrated growl, shaking his head of curls and closing his eyes.

"He seems better to me," David shrugged, glancing at Wes when Blaine made no move to respond.

"Yeah – no, really, he seems less…depressed? He'll talk and stuff more than he was before, which is good, right…? He hasn't been missing class and stuff…" Wes added, watching Blaine as the boy opened his eyes and slowly ran a hand through his hair.

"But he's…so…gone. He's detached, and I feel like when he talks, it doesn't even mean anything and we…" The curly-haired boy trailed off slowly, an odd look of hurt coming onto his face.

"Sex stuff?" David guessed, and Blaine sighed and nodded. "Still…having problems with that?"

"It's nonexistent. Ever since I brought it up, he's been too embarrassed and… We've started to fool around a few times, but we usually end up just stopping or he gets upset or something… We don't even really… We don't even make out anymore," Blaine brought a hand up to cover his eyes, afraid the feeling of crying would find its way to him.

A few moments of silence passed and the door opened to reveal Thad and Trent walking in, high-fiving about something or other that they must have been discussing earlier. Trent stopped short upon seeing Blaine's clearly upset form leaning up against David's bed on the floor beside the two residents of the room. Thad strolled over to Wes's bed and plopped down on it, opening his bag and pulling out a small novel, rifling through it before landing on a page that had been dog-eared.

"Have you guys started working on the quote thing yet?" he asked absently without dragging his eyes away from the pages.

"Uh… No," Wes supplied, with slight attitude, causing the dark-haired boy to look up from his book, eyes shifting to Blaine when the tension in the room became obvious to him.

"What's up with him?" he spoke to the two roommates and gestured to the curly-haired boy, raising an eyebrow.

"Thad," Blaine spoke, removing his hand from his face and turning to him, his eyes heavy with thought. "Can I…stay in your room?"

"Uh, you just stayed in my room last night… And most of the nights for the past week."

"No, I mean like… I want to stay in your room… For a while."

Thad sat up on the bed, raising an eyebrow at the curly-haired boy, placing his novel down. "Like…every night?"

"Yeah…"

Thad scoffed, leaning back down onto the pillows and reconnecting his eyes with the book he had. "No way. Fuck that, your roommate's a dick."

Blaine suddenly felt hot anger course through him and rose to his feet, moving over to Wes's bed to be closer to Thad. "And your roommate is my fucking depressed boyfriend! Fucking – Seriously, Thad, I need to be with him!"

Thad sat speechless for just a moment, then carefully placed his book down again and spoke softly. "Okay… Okay, B. That's fine, whatever… I know you're trying to be there for him – which I think is…important – but I don't really know what you think it's gonna do to help… You need to be strong for him."

Blaine opened his mouth to reply, but ended up just letting out an aggravated sigh instead. "I fucking know I need to be strong for him!" He let out a few panting breaths and finally sat down slowly on the edge of the bed Thad was on. "Regionals are this weekend, you know? This weekend. And I figured if I could help him get to some place of being at least kind of fucking okay, we might have a chance to win…"

"Who gives a fuck if we win?" Wes grumbled quietly, his eyes downcast. "Kurt's been all over the place lately… We need to get him," he made a gesture with his hand as he tried to think of the words, "back to normal… Back to…him being himself."

Blaine shook his head, his eyes falling shut. "No, I – Of course I agree with that, but the Warblers and singing… It's important. It's important to us and our lives… It helps us feel closer with the guys in group and have…practically normal friendships with them… We haven't been this close to feeling like normal guys since it was a class last year and…" The curly-haired boy swallowed down a breath that would have otherwise come out shaky. "It's important to Kurt. It's really damn important to him…even if he can't remember that right now."

"Bro, you're right," Trent shrugged, but nodded, "Kurt's been the one to always push us and make us sound awesome… The group is like his baby… We can't let it go to shit because he's not there to hold it up."

Everyone in the room let out subtle murmurs of agreement, but stopped as the door opened, and a distracted Kurt came walking in, hardly glancing at the occupants of the room before sitting down on David's bed and began rummaging through his bag.

Everyone exchanged glances and Blaine stood and switched beds to be next to the pale boy. "Hey… How're you doing today?"

Kurt didn't make eye contact as he responded softly, "Good."

His boyfriend could tell by the tone and manner in which he gave the answer that it was a lie. "You disappeared after French and didn't walk with us… What have you been up to?"

Kurt shrugged, pulling out the small notebook he had seemingly been looking for in his bag, and flipping it to a specific page. "I, uh, I just had to call my dad. He called me a while ago and I hadn't remembered to return the call," which was true, but he had also swiped a blade across his skin a good few times while he had the room to himself.

"Oh," Blaine nodded and began running his hand along his boyfriends upper arm, leaning in to kiss him on the side of the head.

"So, we were just talking about Regionals, Kurt," David told him, changing the subject slightly, "You know, it's this weekend."

The pause Kurt made in retrieving a pen from his bag told them all that no, he didn't know, or remember for that matter. "Yep, this weekend… Um… So, are things all worked out? I mean, I know I pretty much set up everything for Sectionals, but with all the medication stuff and the sessions, I've been sort of busy."

"No, it's fine. We got it all covered," David assured him, then glanced to Wes, who had actually finalized the schedule.

"Yeah, let's see," the Asian boy pulled out a couple stapled-together sheets of paper and scanned then, "Friday we leave after classes at 4:45… We get to the hotel at about…9:15 or so, depending on traffic and such… The competition itself on the 9th is supposed to start at 3:00, so I say we get there—"

"The 9th?" Kurt asked quietly, and the writing he had been doing in his notebook ceased entirely.

Wes shot a quick look to Blaine, who seemed as confused as he was. "Uh… Yeah. March 9th."

The pale boy placed his notebook and pen down on the bed, sucking in a deep breath, his eyes randomly searching the room, not for anything in particular, just in thought.

"Kurt—" Blaine tried, but was cut off by the boy.

"No, I just… Um…" He brought his hand up and covered his mouth, in some mix between shock and panic, and his eyes clamped shut. "Uh… Okay, okay," he hardly whispered to himself, sounding as though he was trying to calm himself down. His eyes opened then, and looked near to frightened, and he seemed to be trying to make a decision, his face contorting in pain. "I – fuck. Oh god," he leapt from the bed and darted to the bathroom, flinging the door behind him in an attempt to shut it, though failing as there was still a crack open, and the loud choking of him vomiting was obvious.

Blaine was up in a second after that, approaching the door. "Babe—"

"No, no, no, Blaine – please. Just…close the door… I don't anyone in here right now…"

Blaine hesitated as he reached for the doorknob. "I…"

"Please."

"Okay…" He pulled the door shut entirely, sighing and hearing the shuffling of movement from the inside the bathroom. "God dammit," he mumbled to himself, bringing a hand up to grip his head in frustration.

A few awkward, silence-filled moments passed and Trent announced that they should head to group, because it would be starting soon. As everyone began making their way near the exit, Blaine and Thad found themselves near the door of the bathroom.

"You go, Thad, I'll stay here until he comes out," Blaine insisted, gesturing towards the main door.

"Look, someone should really be in there with him…" The dark-haired boy asserted, crossing his arms over his chest.

"He doesn't want—"

"I know. But he needs someone in there right now. He's on that suicide watch and I feel like right now would be a prime example of us being stupid enough to let him be alone," Thad spoke intently, his eyes serious as he spoke to his friend.

"You're right… I'll—"

"No, B, go to group. I'll go help him out… You're…his boyfriend, but I'm his roommate. I'm supposed to be looking out for him right now, too, yeah?"

Blaine smiled softly and patted Thad on the shoulder, nodding a little before making his way out of the room, hearing Thad opening the bathroom door, a quiet, 'Hey, Kurt, come on, sit up,' audible from the hallway.

Regionals day came and went.

And everyone noticed how off Kurt was the entire day of the competition, and how he seemed absolutely miserable.

Everyone also noticed that he sang with more passion and feel than he had in the past two months.

No one said anything.

They came in second.

---

Blaine rinsed off his toothbrush and began unscrewing the little lids to his contact case, for a competition day was a rare exception that he wore them. He pulled each contact lens from his eye, rinsed them, and stored them in the case, then splashed some water onto his face.

As his eyes were closed, he could have sworn he heard the padding of footsteps on the tile of the hotel room's bathroom floor. Opening one eye, he saw his boyfriend, clad in only boxers as well, standing in the open doorway with a small smile tugging at his lips. "Hey."

Blaine smiled in return, bringing a white, fluffy towel up to rub across his face. "Hey, baby. I thought you were sleeping…"

He felt arms enclose around his chest and removed the towel to see his boyfriend's face in the mirror behind him, his pale, smooth expanse contrasting against his own olive-toned skin. "I was…but Jeff sort of rolled into the middle and I didn't want to deal with it."

"Mmmm… I see," Blaine was having a hard time concentrating on what his boyfriend was saying, because he looked so beautiful. His hair was perfectly sleep-tousled and Blaine had to hold back the rambling stream of praises he had wanted to say for so long and had restrained himself from saying due to the busy events of the day. Instead: "You're perfect, you know…?"

Kurt dug his face into Blaine's neck from behind, his face heating up from the compliment. "Blaine…"

"You are… Never doubt that." The curly-haired boy smiled, but suddenly noticed a patch-Band-Aid on Kurt's left arm, in the crook of his elbow, hardly noticeable as it was skin-toned, but it was clearly there, and he had his right hand placed over it casually. "Kurt…" He trailed off, not sure entirely what he was going to say about this.

Are you hurting yourself?

Please don't hurt yourself?

Why do you have a bandage on your arm?

Are you okay?

But Kurt seemed to take the speaking of his name differently, and his grip tightened dramatically. "It was a year ago… Today," he breathed, hardly, his hold shaking just the slightest.

And it clicked.

Because Kurt's rape had been in March.

And it was March.

Kurt didn't cry, but Blaine held him just as tight either way.

---

He couldn't tell if it was a good or a bad thing, but Kurt was getting used to feeling this way.

Every morning, he'd drag himself out of bed and feel like shit and try to smile when he saw his friends, and feel a distant, longing sort of love when he saw his boyfriend. And when he'd get the chance, he'd go over the small cut he had on his left elbow a few good times, feeling the sting of the hot blade searing into the mark already open and raw.

And it was his life.

And it wasn't happy, but it was what it was. And Kurt wasn't planning on ending his life anytime soon, but hurting himself felt like some kind of natural progression in his downward spiral of existence, like it was a reassurance that it was happening next.

Since this realization, and since he'd been switched to another – a third-in-the-past-three-and-a-half-months – damn medication, he'd sorrowfully accepted his fate of being sad, and was able to put on some kind of smile every day, which was good. Was it fake? Maybe.

Maybe more resolved, accepting. Akin to someone with a terminal illness accepting their destiny to die, Kurt knew he'd never be happy. And with that knowing, he became indifferently content.

Knock! knock!

"Come in," Kurt called out from his bed, where he was almost-nostalgically reading Vogue, remembering when things like this made him so happy.

"Hey, Kurt," Jeff poked his blonde head in, a tight smile on his face, and he came all the way in, closing the door behind himself.

He seemed nervous.

"What's going on, Jeff?"

Another good thing about his acceptance was that it had more or less gotten most of his friends off his case. Every conversation wasn't about him anymore, which was strikingly beautiful in comparison to how it had been the past couple months.

The blonde hesitated before speaking, but looked upset, and took a careful seat on the edge of Kurt's bed and turned around to face him, sitting cross-legged.

"Are you okay? What's wrong?"

Kurt remembered suddenly about Jeff's sickness problems, and how he had practically neglected them due to his issues he'd been having himself. He wondered if Jeff was finally going to admit to an eating disorder. "I just… I've been freaking out about this and I wanted to talk to Nick about it, but he's being… I just… I need to talk to you about this…" The blonde took a deep breath, and Kurt could see his lips trembling – trying not to cry. "But it's – it's really hard to t-talk about…"

"This is… It's about you being sick isn't it?" The look Jeff gave him in return was enough of an answer. "Look, it's okay. We'll get you through this, okay…? You… You have an eating disorder, Jeff, that's what this is—"

"No, dammit!" Jeff jumped up from the bed, throwing his arms up in exasperation. "I'm not fucking bulimic!"

Kurt was taken aback by this, and sat motionless on his bed for a few moments. "Jeff…"

"Fuck, Kurt… You're so smart, like, all of the time, you know? You always figure things out about people and talk to them and you can't freaking put this together…" The blonde sighed, turning to face Kurt with a desperate look on his face, searching the boy's glasz eyes, hoping maybe he'd understand at the last moment. "It's like the one thing I want you to figure out on your own and you don't. You just fucking don't… And shit," he hissed out the curse and sunk hard onto Thad's bed, his hands coming up to shakily cover his face.

Kurt stood up, approaching the bed and trying to pull the boy's hands from his face. "What are you talking about—?"

"Mr. Connors!" Jeff flung Kurt's hands from his, bolting to stand up, tears flooding his eyes. "He molested me!"

Kurt's mouth fell open. Shit, should he have seen the signs. Fuck.

"Oh – oh, god, Jeff—"

"That's why I've been getting sick and everything… I couldn't really sleep, I've been feeling sick and throwing up thinking about it… I just. Fuck," he crumpled down back onto Thad's bed and held his face. "I talked to you and I thought you'd get it but you didn't and – oh god. It just feels so weird telling someone…" Jeff hoarsely whimpered out.

"What… What did he do to you?" Kurt sat down carefully on the bed beside him and held him tight, closing his arms around him.

"He just—" Jeff broke off with a harsh sob escaping his mouth, his shoulders jerking.

"Jeff…" Kurt got the boy's attention slightly, getting him to open his eyes and meet his gaze. "You said he… I mean, he touched you, right? He didn't…?" rape you.

Jeff was confused for a second as he let out heavy breaths, but then suddenly sucked in a quick one, shaking his head. "No, he didn't… He didn't do that."

Kurt sighed heavily in relief, his eyes falling shut for a second as he tightened his grip on the blonde boy. "Oh, good… I just… If you had…" The pale boy stopped his nonsense, and just sighed. "You're going to be okay…"

Jeff cried.

"You are… Is this… Is this why you've been so weird lately? And were drinking so much during Birthday Month?"

Jeff thought back to everything that happened. And how he drank so much.

He thought to Nick.

"Y-yeah…"

---

It was April. It was early April, and things were blooming and rain was falling outside and Blaine was in love.

And that hurt.

Because what did love mean when your boyfriend was a mess of medication and depression and instability?

He curled his arms around the pale boy, digging his nose into the soft cotton shirt he had on and inhaling deeply to get drunk in the purest source of Kurt. It was probably around 3 or 4 a.m., or 4:49, according to Kurt's bedside clock, Blaine saw, and he curly-haired boy was having a hard time letting himself sleep. He didn't want to see his precious boy in pain and in this gray, complicated, dangerous limbo between okay and not okay.

It was all very blurry and vague and he never felt like Kurt was completely, absolutely, 100% safe.

And that hurt.

The boy of his affections sighed in his sleep, twisting to face Blaine and their noses brushed together in such an intimate, delicate way that he almost wept. Kurt's eyes moved under his eyelids and Blaine wondered what he was dreaming of, and if it was wonderful or terrible.

The last question was answered, and Kurt let out a scared yelp, quiet but still obviously unpleasant, and Blaine subtly squeezed him in his hold, hoping to wake him gently. "Kurt."

"No! No, no, no, no, no—!"

"Kurt, come on, wake up," Blaine sat up and began lightly shaking the boy, but he continued to squirm and wiggle, occasionally letting out short, strangled noises.

Finally, the movement and sounds stopped, and Kurt began breathing very heavily, and finally his eyes fluttered open, confusion written all over his face. "Oh god," he breathed.

"It was a d—"

"I know, I know it was a dream, it was—" he let out a trembling breath. "It was my fault!"

"Kurt, no, it was a dream, it wasn't real," Blaine pulled his boyfriend up to a sitting position as well, tugging him against his chest and kissing the top of his head.

"No, Blaine, it – In the dream, I was… But… I'm doing this and it's because of me that everyone's all… I'm hurting everyone!" He insisted, speaking into Blaine's collarbone, hardly audible.

"Kurt… You're doing what?"

"Don't be mad."

"Kurt—"

"Don't be mad!"

"I won't! I won't be mad, I promise! Just… Tell me, please…"

Instead, Kurt pulled away from him and reached up to his elbow, hidden under the sleeve of his shirt, and ripped the bandage off, then proceeded to roll his sleeve up, almost cringing at the reaction he was sure to get from his boyfriend. "I'm – I'm sorry," he breathed.

"Oh…" Blaine's eyebrows pulled together in sadness and his mouth hung open as he took in the bruised and marred piece of arm that belonged to his boyfriend. There were a few shallow cuts, all relatively short and generally harmless looking… But one deep, puffy, red one stood out. It seemed to be cut over several times, raw and infected-looking. "Kurt…"

"I didn't—! I'm hurting myself and it's hurting everyone! I don't—! I don't want to hurt anyone… I can't hurt you, Blaine… I'm sorry…"

Blaine looked once more at the arm and then moved to embrace his boyfriend tightly, eyes clamping shut. "Don't be sorry… I… It'll be okay… You can stop this…"

"I can't… I don't know how, it's become… It's a problem."

"We'll talk to someone. We'll fix this and we'll see what we can do about your meds, okay?"

"Oh, god, Blaine, they've changed it so many times—"

"That's the only reason this is happening, babe. You're not yourself… Once everything is back to normal, you'll feel… You won't need to do this anymore."

Kurt nodded subtly, his breathing slightly shaky. "O-okay…"

The curly-haired boy felt hot tears in his eyes, threatening to fall and cascade down his cheeks. "Okay."

---

Blaine had a hard time sleeping at all that night, and so when Kurt woke up to go take a shower, he was still conscious. He knew his boyfriend was notorious for taking long showers, but after about 40 minutes had passed and the shower was still running, the sound of water spraying down and running to the drain still audbile, he started to get worried. He decided that even though they hadn't really done anything sexual in the past… Well, too long, that he'd join the pale boy in the shower and they could at least wash each other.

He walked up to the bathroom door and knocked a few times, bouncing on his feet impatiently. Only when he received no response did his eyebrows pull together. He knocked again and opened the door, the shower still running. "Kurt?"

"W-what? Blaine I'm in the shower," Kurt's voice mumbled from within the spray and Blaine's racing heart started to slow.

"Oh… Sorry, I just… Can I join you? You've been in there a while… I need to shower, too, you know," he added teasingly, though the delay in response made him slightly suspicious.

"…Blaine… I know you probably miss all that, but I really don't think I'm able to do that still…"

"No, no, not—! I didn't mean sex, I just thought we could wash each other like we used to… It'd feel nice…" The curly-haired boy made his way slowly closer towards the shower.

"Babe… I… I love doing that, but not right now…"

Blaine felt disappointed. He didn't resent his boyfriend for it, because he knew it wasn't really him talking, but it still stung. "Come on, I'll give you a massage?" With that, he gently tugged on the shower curtain, revealing a small gap into the shower. He had really only done it to get a better look at the boy as he spoke to him, but his eyebrows practically shot to his hairline when he saw the boy standing innocently in the spray, fresh, wet blood dripping down his arm, mixed with water, a small blade on the side of the tub.

"Oh fuck, Blaine – Don't hate me! I can't – I just need it!" He tried to wipe away the red and cover up his arm with his hand, but to no avail. The damage had been done, Blaine had seen.

The curly-haired boy took a long, deep breath and put on a strong face, deciding something.

"…I don't hate you… I… I love you, and that's why you're gonna get your ass out of the shower and into some clothes and we're gonna get that looked at and wrapped up. And you're gonna go talk to someone about this right fucking afterwards."

"Yeah," Kurt agreed breathlessly, nodding, turning the knobs of the shower off quickly and glancing down to his own arm, for the first time since starting back up, feeling ashamed. Which was probably healthy.

To feel ashamed about physically mutilating yourself.

He threw on a pair of sweatpants and a hoodie, first loosely wrapping his wound in a bandage, but realizing (also for the first time) just how really, very infected it looked and how much deeper he had gone this time judging by the amount of blood. He supposed that's what happened when you cut yourself with the same old blade that came from a disposable razor.

Blaine wrapped his arm around his boyfriend's shoulder, leading him down towards the nurse's office, closer than the medical wing and appropriate for a smaller injury of this size. "I'm not mad at you, Kurt," Blaine repeated softly what he had promised the night before, giving his boyfriend a kiss on the cheek after making sure no other students were around in the open grounds.

Within specific settings, they were public with their relationship, but not on the general campus.

"I know… But you should be," Kurt replied quietly, letting his eyes fall shut and leaning into Blaine slightly.

The curly-haired boy raised an eyebrow at this, glancing around again to make sure no one had really seen. "I… No, I shouldn't be. I care about you and I'm mad that the feeling that you need to do this exists. Nothing more…" Kurt leaned into him more. "Kurt, um, baby, do you wanna put a little space between us? We're still in… We're still out in the main campus… Kurt…?"

The pale boy had slowed his walking and was moving oddly on his feet, and Blaine saw him staring off into the distance. First following his gaze and finding nothing, Blaine turned back to Kurt, bringing his hand back to his shoulder where he had just removed it. "What's wrong?"

"I…" He looked down to his arm, and flinched back at the sight. "Fuck," was all he breathed out before collapsing to the ground, landing mostly on his back, as Blaine caught some of his fall.

"Kurt! Holy shit! Babe, come on!" He kneeled down, patting gentle taps to his boyfriend's pale cheek, trying to get him to respond. He shot a look down to the arm Kurt had been looking at and gasped, seeing some blood had seeped through not only the bandage, but through the hoodie's sleeve. "Jesus! Baby, come on!"

"What's that, Anderson? What are you calling that faggot?"

And holy mother of fucking god. Renny Bright. Now?

Blaine growled and snapped his head up to the direction of the voice. The red-haired boy he knew would be standing there, indeed was there, a look of disgust mixed with a smirk present on his face. "This really is not the fucking time, you dick!" The curly-haired boy heard Kurt exhale loudly, and gave his attention back to him. "Babe, come on, wake up for me!"

"Are you shitting me, B? You're not calling him pet names are you?" The redhead stalked closer to the two on the ground, folding his arms over his chest. "He your boyfriend or somethin'? I always knew you were a queer," he shrugged nonchalantly.

"Oh my god, Renny! Fucking go! Just – who gives a fuck if he is? Or I am? Drop it!" Blaine started to attempt to pick Kurt up, seeing he wasn't going to respond, but the angle was awkward.

The redhead scoffed in disbelief, taken aback by Blaine's comment. "Holy shit… You're serious? You're a fucking queer? I knew it! No wonder you protected that little fag back home back in the day!" Renny went to kick Blaine, shoving him with his foot so he lost the already weak hold he had on Kurt.

"For fuck's sake! You said you've leave him alone! He's needs medical attention, just let this go." Blaine stood and tried to pull Kurt up from this position, but felt a hand tug him back from his jacket and turned to face the redhead.

"I said I'd leave him alone… Not your fucking queer ass, Anderson!"

He felt a sharp pain in his jaw, which was odd, considering punches were usually more of a hard, duller pain. But that was definitely a punch. Because he saw it, too.

And he felt the hard floor beneath him as he made contact with it. His eyes blurred for a good few moments, and his ears pulsed with his fast heartbeat, and the dulled, muffled sound of the nasally, annoying laughter of that fucking redheaded son of a bitch.

His vision cleared as his head became foggier. Blaine caught one last glimpse of his boyfriend lying beside him, his face paler than usual, his body weaker-looking than it should be.

His last, delirious thought before he was consumed in darkness was the insult he had just used on Renny, calling him a son of a bitch. He remembered meeting Mrs. Bright once, and she seemed like a lovely lady…

And then there was black.

---

A/N So, yeah. Sorry for so much really blah sad angst writing, but if you've ever known someone in a bad depression or been in one, they are VERY consuming and terrifying, especially when medleys of medications are involved. :(