"H-hello?"

"Oh, have you decided to start playing again?" Karofsky's voice was calm, too calm, and Kurt's head and stomach began spinning in different directions.

"Listen, Karofsky," Kurt said, forcing every ounce of strength he had into the words, "I don't know why you're doing this, but you've done enough. Please, just-"

"I wonder what Carole would look like hanging above your bed… Think your dad's precious heart could take that?"

"No!" Kurt cried.

"No? Because I want to make something clear, Kurt. What happened to that bird was a punishment for you. A message. You didn't answer your phone, Kurt! Of course, I forgave you. I'm good like that, you know? But you did need to understand that this game is important to me, and if you keep refusing to play… Well, the stakes will get higher really fast."

"Hey, Kurt…" Blaine trailed off, shifting the pile of clothes and toiletries in his hands as he waited for the phone call to end.

"Who is that?"

"It's… um… it's just Blaine," Kurt whispered. Blaine looked up at the sound of his name, smiling slightly before darting back down to the clothes again. Trying not to eavesdrop.

"He's a fag too, isn't he?"

"Well… y-yes," Kurt tried to keep his voice even, tried to keep Blaine from noticing anything out of the ordinary. Well, besides the dead warbler strewn across his pillow.

"Hmmm… what's that he's got, there? Those your green cotton pajamas? Stupid boy, everyone knows your blue silk are your favorites."

Kurt's breathing hitched, "How do you know that?"

"You've worn them every other night this week. I've been watching you, Kurt. I know everything you do, I know everything you say, and I see everyone you love just waltzing in little circles around you. I saw your roommate leave before I left my little message, and trust me; it would be no problem to tear him apart. It would be no problem to kill everyone you love and as soon as I run out of them, I'll go straight to you. Do you understand what I'm saying, Kurt?"

"Yes."

"Perfect. I'll let you get to your sleepover, Kurt, but let me just leave you will one last thought. If anyone finds out about this, they will die. And if you tell anyone, I'll make you watch. Good night, Kurt."

The dial tone sounded loud in his head, and he yanked it away from his ear and shoved it in his pocket as quickly as possible. He smiled at Blaine as the other boy presented the fruits of his raid.

"I think I have everything you'll need for tonight; you want to look over it in case I missed something? I'm not sure I got all of the steps for your moisturizing routine, I grabbed every bottle, but -"

"No, that's perfect," Kurt said numbly. He let Blaine lead him up the stairs to the upperclassmen dormitories.

David was already on his bed on the other side of the room. "Hey, Kurt," He said as Blaine led Kurt passed the doorway and shut the door behind them. Kurt watched the two boys exchange dark looks as Blaine's fingers deftly turned the lock behind him.

"Kurt's going to be staying here tonight. 'Til the mes-… until his room gets cleaned up," Blaine said.

"Sounds fine," David said, "The bathroom's through there, if you want to take a shower, or anything." He pointed to a small oak door at the back.

"Thanks," Kurt gently took his things from Blaine and started toward the door.

"You should probably also call your dad and tell him what happened," David said. "The school's taking it very seriously; we think the police may get involved."

"Police?" Kurt's voice was shrill. How was he supposed to keep this a secret with police involved?

Blaine hazel eyes were wide and serious, "Kurt, Pavarotti obviously didn't die of natural causes. And it wasn't an accident either. This was sick… and we think it was aimed at you."

'If anyone finds out about this, they will die.'

"Well, you don't need to panic," David said uncomfortably, "We don't want to scare you, it's just… Blaine?"

Blaine looked slightly alarmed, gazing between his friend's uncomfortable fidgeting and Kurt's face, which was pale and trembling. Blaine sighed and took a step forward, "Kurt, I wasn't trying to scare you, it's just…" Blaine sighed and started chewing his lip, lost for something to say.

"No, n-no, I understand." Kurt tried to smile, but it was difficult with fear coursing through his veins. "I'll just… I think I need a shower. Wash today off of me, you know?"

"Yeah." Both boys looked mildly relieved. Kurt didn't blame them.

As soon as he got into the bathroom (a small room with no windows, thank heaven), Kurt sent his father a text saying simply, "My pet bird died." Dad didn't need the stress of knowing the details about Pavarotti's death, and Kurt was tired of phone calls. Kurt waited until a reply was sent, "Oh. Sorry, kid. You doing okay?" And sent one himself, "Yeah, I'm fine," which was not at all how he felt but would satisfy his father, which was all Kurt really wanted right now.

That and being left alone.

Kurt stayed in the shower until the water ran cold, pruning up every inch of his perfect skin. He went through every step of his moisturizing routine with pristine accuracy, refusing to skip even the slightest step. At the moment it was the only thing keeping him sane.

Kurt wandered out of the bathroom two hours later hoping that Blaine and David would have already gone to sleep, but both boys were sitting on David's bed, wide awake. They stopped talking when Kurt walked in, leaving him with no doubt who they were talking about. He sighed, dropping his small bundle of belonging and heading for the makeshift bed set up on the floor.

"Nope," Blaine was up and in his way before he'd taken two steps. "That's mine. You're taking the bed."

"I-"

"No arguing. There are two reasons. One, what's happened is bad enough without us forcing you to sleep on the floor. Two, if someone were to get into this room – it won't happen, but if it did – they would have to step on my face to get close to you. I'm a really light sleeper. We figured it would be safer." Blaine smiled gently and pulled the covers back.

"Are you sure?" Kurt asked, eyeing the bed apprehensively.

"Yes, Kurt. Now climb on up." Kurt hesitated, and Blaine laughed. "It's clean, I promise."

Finally, Kurt relented, sliding between the covers and listening to the rustling as the other boys settled into bed. The bed smelled like Blaine, and the thick, soft covers soon left him feeling warm and secure. The light stayed on, and Kurt was grateful for that, scanning the room with his eyes one last time before he fell into a fitful sleep.