AN: I have a theory: the spoiler-storm that took place around the posting of the last chapter took away all my reviewers! That's okay… I'll just sit here… in the dark… alone…

Seriously, though, hopefully this one will be more significant/comment-able. Hope all of you who were in L.A. had fun, and that those who weren't are enjoying the hope that's come with these spoilers. :)

Really, Kurt knew he should've known better. He was, with very few exceptions, a firm believer in the old phrase "two people can keep a secret if one is dead." Did that mean he should've killed Finn?

Well, he decided later, he should've at least seriously considered it.

It happened one afternoon in the living room. Kurt was trying to watch his TV program while Finn sat on the couch next to him and blabbered on about the prom, about Quinn, corsages, whether to wear his Bully Whips suit and save some money on rentals, Rachel (Kurt wished he could say he was surprised, but he wasn't), limos, and on and on and on. Luckily, Finn's voice had reached a comfortable rhythm early on, so Kurt was able to easily tune him out. By annoying coincidence, his show ended just about the same time as a question from Finn broke his rhythm, so Kurt couldn't help but hear it.

"So what're you wearing to the prom?"

There it was - the question (or at least one variant of the question) he'd been hoping Finn wouldn't ask. Kurt sighed, turning towards his stepbrother as he considered how to answer. He knew he couldn't just evade or put it off; Finn would immediately zero in and start hassling him in his own Finnish way. Nothing to do about it... Just have to be honest and hope.

"I'm not going to the prom."

"Huh? Why not?"

"It's just a dance, Finn - not exactly the social highlight of the year."

Finn grinned toothily. "We're in high school in Lima; it kinda is."

"Touche. But it's just not for me. Do you remember me at the sophomore prom? Or the freshman spring dance?"

"Well, no..."

"There's a reason for that."

"Yeah, but it's better now," Finn declared. "These past few months with the Bully Whips... I really think the school is changing."

Kurt was torn between his own belief (hope?) that Finn was right, and shaking his head at his naivete. Some habits of thought were just hard to break (one big reason why he understood Dave's struggle to some extent).

"And I know you want to go," Finn continued. "I saw you once last year staring at one of the posters in the hall. You really looked... Well, you looked kinda sad."

Kurt froze in embarrassment; he couldn't believe that someone had actually seen that! He was about to ask why Finn had never said anything, but knew that he wouldn't have wanted him to do so anyway. "Be that as it may, the prom isn't something that's that big a deal for me," he lied, turning back to the TV. "Besides, there's no one I can go with anyway." Fuck! Kurt knew those words were a mistake the instant they left his mouth. If he'd only kept that idea out of the open, he might've been able to get out of this conversation intact. But no, he just had to let that slip. Idiot!

"No one?" Finn repeated, frowning. "What about Dave?"

"What about him? He's a friend. That's it."

"You two keep saying that, but I live with you, Kurt, and I talk with Dave all the time. Besides, you really think everyone there is going to be with the love of their life?" Something about what he said seemed to startle Finn; a strange look came over his face, but the look quickly vanished. "This may not be any of my business..."

"It's not," Kurt said firmly, with a little chill.

"But he really likes you. And I know you really like him. I mean, I may not know a lot..." In his mood, Kurt couldn't help but stifle a remark; he covered it up with a cough. "But I'm pretty damn sure about that."

Kurt sighed. "Look, Finn, I know you mean well, but it just can't be."

"You do want to ask him, though."

"Maybe so, but that's irrelevant."

"Irrelevant? How? It's everything!"

"There's just... things you don't know." Kurt rubbed his eyes, wishing he had the guts to just get up, end the conversation, and walk away. But he couldn't bring himself to do that, not to his stepbrother, not to someone who'd done so much for him.

"Yeah, I know something happened back at Dalton, but you've been home for weeks now, and..."

"It's not just that. I can't get into details, but I just can't ask him."

"But..."

"Finn! Please, I'm begging you. Drop it?"

To his relief, Finn nodded immediately. "Okay."

"And don't tell Dave we talked about this, or even mention the prom. Please?"

"I won't say a word to Dave, I swear."

"Kurt wants to ask Dave to the prom!" The rest of the lunch table stared at him, and Finn's face froze in horror. How the fuck did that happen? One second he was just listening to the rest of the Glee Club having a conversation about the prom, and the next... It'd just... slipped out. While he hadn't technically broken his promise to Kurt (this was the McKinley cafeteria, after all, and neither Kurt nor Dave were present), he knew that his stepbrother would never have wanted him to say that in front of the others either. Shit, he's gonna kill me.

"He does?" Mercedes squealed. "I knew it!"

"It really was quite obvious," Rachel said in satisfaction, "past troubles notwithstanding. Of course, it has nothing to do with the somewhat shameful lack of other out LGBT students in the area, but I knew that..."

"Guys..." Finn squeaked. No one heard him.

"Best part is," Sam remarked between french fries, "all the Bully Whips will be there. It'll be no problem keeping an eye out for trouble."

"We can take shifts," Artie nodded. "I can arrange things on my end."

"Guys..."

"I think we should do more than that," Lauren added firmly. "We should spread out during the dancing and stuff, make sure we cover the entire room."

"Good idea," Mike said. "That way, Kurt will be in the center of all of us, and we can..."

"Guys!" Finally, the chatter stopped, and everyone turned towards Finn again. "Kurt's... He's not going."

"What? Why?" Rachel demanded. "I thought you said he wanted to ask..."

"He does! He's just... not going to."

There was a moment of silence (or as much silence as one could get in the middle of a crowded high school cafeteria). "That doesn't make any sense," Santana said flatly.

Finn groaned inwardly; he was getting more and more of an idea of the genie he'd let out of the bottle. "He has his reasons. Look, no matter how much he wants to go..."

"So he does want to go," Mercedes interrupted bluntly.

The Glee Club's unofficial student leader turned even redder; images of Kurt beating him up in the middle of a cartoon dust cloud rose unbidden in his mind. "Like I said, he has his reasons. I think we should respect that. Okay?"

The table fell silent again. Then the chatter began amongst them, Kurt most noticeably not being one of the subjects. Finn's eyes flickered from face to face; he realized full well not a single one of them had answered his question. Should he have tried harder to convince them? Or would they actually leave it alone?

He decided that he'd trust it was the latter, and pray.

It was, of course, the wrong decision.

Will Schuester rubbed his forehead. "Look, Principal Figgins, I'm sorry that Air Supply canceled..."

"It would've been like a little concert, right in my school!" Figgins lamented.

"But I'm not sure that the Glee Club can do this. It's only three weeks to Nationals, and we'd have to take out the time to learn a whole new set list."

"See, there you go," Sue Sylvester said. "You'll just have to find some other shambling wreck of a band past its prime. I hear the Backstreet Boys and New Kids on the Block are uniting; maybe you could ask them. It would certainly be a better show than Schuester's merry band of mutants."

Will frowned; Sue seemed determined not to let New Directions perform. Perhaps, after the Night of Neglect concert, she couldn't bear to let them have any more accolades than they had. The very thought set a fire in his belly, but no, he had to resist. Nationals.

"I can pay you $400," Figgins pleaded.

"We already have the money for Nationals," Will pointed out. No thanks to anyone else in this room, he thought. "And a good start on next year's budget."

"Who knows what could happen by then!"

"Who indeed," Sue said with an odd smirk.

"Please, William," Figgins begged. "I don't have anywhere else to turn. I'll owe you a favor!"

Now that idea was intriguing. Seeing Sue stiffen at the offer made it even more so. "A favor," Will repeated. "One I can call in at any time for any purpose?"

"Within reason, of course, but yes!"

Will hesitated. It was a tempting offer. And it would be, at the least, a comfort to have that ace up his sleeve; he believed that Principal Figgins, for all his flaws, would honor his promise. Besides, the extra $400 would be a nice cushion to deal with any emergencies that could arise. Taking one look at Sue Sylvester, at her smoldering, frustrated glare (that just screamed "say yes, and I'll grab that shameful 70's carpet you call hair and slam your doughy face into Figgins' desk so hard, your chin will be the most normal looking part of you"), was all he needed to firm the decision in his mind.

"Principal Figgins, New Directions would be honored to perform."

"How're things in sector four?" Blaine asked over his earpiece as he watched the mulling students drift by.

"Actually, I'm in sector three," Mike Chang's voice replied. Blaine grimaced. Damn Abrams and his stupid code names. "But things are fine over here."

"Good." The line was quiet for a few moments as Blaine made his rounds, with both Bully Whip and guarded students barely noticing each other - such was the commonality of the sight these days.

"Hey." Blaine nearly jumped at the sound. Mike Chang wasn't the most talkative of guys most days - certainly not to him. He was an okay guy, really (though Blaine was fully aware that Chang's oh my God body was a big part of the reason his life was the way it was to begin with) - just not... extroverted the way a lot of the other guys on the football team were. So this initiation of conversation was a big surprise. "Why don't you want to join the Glee Club?"

"Huh?"

"You were good at the halftime show - really good. We could use a voice like that."

Blaine shook his head. He'd thought, hoped, that this issue was over and done with by now. "I told you, my rep..."

"In case you didn't notice, most of your Bully Whips are in the Glee Club anyway. How much worse could your rep possibly get? I saw you out there, and when we did 'She's Not There.' You like it. And you have the voice. So why not?"

"I... I don't know." Blaine meant it, but some small voice in his head was saying, you do so know; you just don't want to even think about it. He ignored that voice; he was very good at that. "I guess part of it is my dad. He'll take me being on the football team, 'cause it's sports and all, but the Glee Club? He'll think it's a big waste of time." Once the words "my dad" came out of his mouth, the rest became harder and harder to stop. Why was he even saying any of this? It wasn't like Chang was a bosom buddy or something, despite their playing football together. No, but what he is is discreet. You can trust him not tell anyone anything you say to him. And maybe that was enough. "He... I don't know what he wants from me, you know? I've done everything he wants, and I still feel like he doesn't think it's enough. I dunno if you know what that's like, but..."

To his astonishment, his earpiece was suddenly filled with hysterical laughter. He could only imagine how the others around Mike were reacting, watching this suited, sunglasses-wearing fellow student suddenly cracking up in the middle of the halls. Blaine himself was frozen, his mouth probably agape like an idiot, as the last students almost late for class stepped around him. "Uh... Chang? You okay?"

"I... Oh, God, I... I'm sorry!" he managed to gasp between bursts of merriment. Finally, the laughter tapered off; now there was only the sound of his gasping for breath. The halls were empty now, classes begun (though the two of them had free periods, thus their patrol assignment). "I... I'm fine. I'm fine." Mike's voice became calmer, firmer. "I do know what it's like," he finally said. "I guess... you learn how to live with it. Do what you can. Build up the courage to do what you want and face the consequences." The line was quiet again for a good half minute; Blaine reached up to take his earpiece out before he heard Mike speak again. "Remember Matt?"

"Matt who-? Oh, Rutherford? Yeah, I do. You two were tight, weren't you?"

"Yeah. Do you know why?"

Blaine shrugged, immediately feeling foolish for doing so when his conversation partner couldn't see. "Not really."

"You know Matt's brother Luke?"

"Do I know Luke Rutherford? Shit, yeah. I mean, I never knew him, but... the guy's a McKinley legend."

"There you go." Mike sighed. "Matt could never get out of Luke's shadow. Everywhere he went, he wasn't himself - he was Luke's little brother. Even his own parents... It was always 'why can't you be more like your brother' and 'your brother would've done better.' I saw it; they'd say it when other people around. It's not Luke's fault; he was actually a pretty nice guy. He'd almost beg his parents not to compare them. Hell, he's the only reason Matt joined the football team in the first place - told him that he was talented enough on his own to make his own mark." He fell quiet again; despite the distance, Blaine could almost see Mike trying to find the words. "Anyway, we found out... we had some family things in common. We talked, and... we became friends."

"I see... I think."

"I guess my point is that I know what it's like to be under pressure, but you can't let it get to you or keep you from doing what you want, or you'll always be wondering 'what if.'"

Blaine forced a laugh. "I didn't know you guys were so hard up for new members."

"Just... think about it, okay?"

"O-okay. Sure." The Bully Whips' patrol period was long over. Yet, Blaine knew that if he let himself, this talk could go on... maybe forever. That was exactly why he turned off his earpiece and put it in his pocket.

It was definitely one of the weirdest days in Dave Karofsky's life. It started with that e-mail from Mercedes Jones, consisting only of a scan of a flyer for McKinley's junior prom. Fine, if a little odd, though it brought up all kinds of interesting ideas. Then there was the Facebook private message from Rachel Berry: I don't know if you know this, but our junior prom is coming up. We would love to see you there. Of course, you can't get in without a date from McKinley, but I don't think that will be a problem. ;)

That was when things began to get clearer. Things became even more clear with Puck's text message: kurts gonna sit out the prom what ru gonna do about it? Then, of course, he would've had to have been an idiot not to get it when he got the phone call from an Ohio area code - a number that wasn't in his contact list.

"Hello?"

"Kurt wants you to ask him to our prom."

"Uh... Is this Santana?"

"If you leave him hanging, I'll make you regret your parents ever met." End call.

Okay. Message received.

When he and Kurt next met for their usual "hanging out" time at the Lima Bean, he had a decision to make. He had little doubt that this was just the beginning of what Kurt's friends were willing to do if he did nothing, so in the end, it was a pretty easy choice to make.

"So..." Dave began, "I hear your prom is coming up."

Kurt paled. He was many things: fashionable, opinionated, gay. One thing he was not was stupid. His white pallor immediately turned red and stormy. "David..." he began through gritted teeth. "You're a real friend, right?"

"Of course I am. Why...?"

"Then I'm going to have to ask you to help me move a body soon." He got up and turned to the rest of the room. "Doesn't anybody in this town know how to keep a damn secret?" Kurt yelled. The other patrons and employees stared at him as he sat back down, jaw still clenched in anger. "Finn is a dead man. Dead."

"Whoa, I don't know what's going on, but Finn didn't tell me anything. Actually, it was almost everyone in your Glee Club except him."

Kurt rubbed his forehead. "God, David, I am so sorry. I begged him not to say anything..."

"Then you did want to ask me."

"It's like you said for yourself," Kurt sighed. "I just wanted to be a part of a major social event as an open gay man - and with a guy, not just some sympathetic female friend. I wanted to feel like I belonged, somehow. Do what all the straight kids do without thinking. But I knew I couldn't ask you to go with me. For one thing, it's still too soon, for both of us. But it was mostly because of the... the..." He wanted to say "incident," but it was far too mild a word, and just thinking the word "attack" made his stomach churn.

Dave saved him from his dilemma. "You can say it, Kurt: the Sadie Hawkins dance."

He let out a breath. "Yeah. That. I couldn't ask you to basically relive the worst night of your life just so I could go to my school gym, shuffle around on the floor, and drink watered-down punch. I have no right. I knew if I as much as mentioned the prom, you'd feel obligated to go..." He stopped, realizing the implications of what he just said. Kurt managed to continue, but only with some difficulty. "Just... just forget it, all right? It shouldn't have gone this far, and I'm going to give all of them a piece of my mind next rehearsal..."

Dave held up a hand. "I just have one question, and I want you to answer honestly: do you want to go?"

"Dave, that doesn't matter..."

"It matters to me," he replied firmly. Kurt's mouth snapped shut. "First point: I don't have to be your 'date.' I can be... an escort. No, wait..." He backpedaled at once seeing Kurt's amused expression. "An accompaniment. A supportive friend. Whatever. As for the other thing... I won't lie: just thinking about it makes me nervous. But what makes me more nervous is the thought of staying home forever, and letting one of my best friends miss out on something he wants to do. I owe you - more important, I want to help you. I can't let one bad night taint every night that comes after. I'm tired of not letting myself be happy. And this would make you happy. Hell, it'll make me happy too, because I'd be helping a friend. This isn't an obligation. This is what I want." He leaned forward, his gaze unwavering. "Look, Kurt, this isn't about just you; you've been telling and encouraging me to not be so buried in 'what if', not be afraid. Please, help me face my past like a man." Dave smiled sheepishly. "Will you go with me to the prom?"

Kurt blinked; his eyes were moist. "What, no kneeling?"

"I'm not proposing," Dave snorted. "Seriously, please don't worry about me. Just do what you want to do."

Kurt began nodding. "Yeah... I do want to go. Thank you."

"No problem."

"But Finn's still a dead man."

"Ehh, whatever."

"That was smart of Dave," Santana remarked as she held her latest dress option up to her body. "If he'd been chicken, I would've had to turn his boy bits inside out."

Kurt shuddered. "Thank you for the mental image. But it was a harder thing than you think. Not that you had any way of knowing that." He'd grudgingly started forgiving his friends for their meddling, but Finn was still getting the silent treatment. Said stepbrother was even more ingratiating than usual in a desperate attempt to make up for his slip, which only deepened Kurt's annoyance, as sweet as it was.

"And now you have your date," Rachel said happily as she picked up a sparkly black number.

"Not exactly a date. We're going to the prom together. That's it. We might not even dance."

Mercedes raised a skeptical eyebrow. "Uh huh."

Kurt rolled his eyes. "Fine. I'm tired of having to explain. Let's just get back to the dresses, shall we?"

"Well, don't worry about either of you," Santana said. "Every Bully Whips member will be on high alert. As far as we're concerned, you and Dave are priority one."

"Thank you, but I'm not sure that'll be necessary. No one's harassed me since I returned..."

"No reason not to look out for you," Mercedes remarked. "We're all working together on this, so even with both Bully Whips duty and performing, we won't miss out on too much fun. It's no problem."

Kurt nodded in reply, not trusting himself to say anything (at least not without some embarrassing display). "Try that one," he told her, pointing towards one of the racks.

Mercedes' face lit up when she followed his finger. "Ooh!" She immediately pounced on the indicated dress.

"By the way," Santana said, "when are you gonna outfit your date?"

"I told you, he's not really my date. And I'm letting Dave dress himself." There was a dead silence; every girl in the room was now staring at him. "What?"

"You." Santana's voice was slow, flat, unbelieving. "Miss Fashionista Control Freak. You are letting your prom date dress himself."

This time he didn't even bother to correct the terminology. "Yes, I am. He's a big boy; he can handle it." Kurt's voice turned low and conspiratorial. "Besides, I've been giving him fashion lessons for months now. I'm dying to see if he can put it into practice."

"Ohhh." Santana gained her own grin. "This is gonna be an entertaining prom, that's for sure."

If she'd realized how right she was, she might not have looked forward to it so much.

"Dave." Burt wasn't quite sure yet exactly how he felt about the young man he opened the door to. But Kurt had discussed things with him at length, so he at least felt comfortable with giving Dave a friendly nod. "Come on in. Kurt will be down in a minute. Finn's hiding in his room for some reason I'm not exactly sure of."

"Thanks, Mr. Hummel."

Burt watched as he entered the house. He pushed the door shut, the lock sliding home with an almost foreboding "click." "Before Kurt comes, can I talk to you for a moment?" he asked quietly.

"Sure thing." The two adjourned to the living room; Dave sat on the couch while Burt swung his recliner to face him.

"We haven't had a chance to talk one-on-one," Burt began. "Not since... You know."

Dave nodded. "Yes."

"Kurt told me everything, both at the time and after." Burt paused, remembering those painful nights. "He was very hurt by what you did, Dave."

"I know, sir. God help me, I know."

"I thought you would. I defended you then, in a sense. And everything I've heard since then from Kurt has assured me that you realize you made a mistake. But the truth remains that you betrayed his trust, and he's sticking his neck out for you again by asking you to the prom." Burt struggled to keep his face neutral as he leaned forward in his seat. "Man to man, I need to know that I can trust you. That you're still a friend to my son. That you'll treat him the way he deserves to be treated from now on."

Dave's answer was immediate and firm. "You don't have to worry, Mr. Hummel. I'll cut myself off from Kurt before I let anything like that happen again."

Burt gazed into Dave's eyes for a long moment - so long, the younger man started getting nervous. When Burt finally spoke, his voice was flat, calm. "All right. I believe you."

"Thank you, sir."

"But I'm still not taking my eyes off you. For many reasons."

Dave swallowed, getting a feeling he knew just what was being unspoken. "Understood."

"Good. With that out of the way, I hope you boys enjoy the prom. God, I remember mine... Like during my own junior year, when my best friend and his date dressed up as..."

"Dave!" Dave and Burt rose as Kurt came downstairs. "You're just in time; I was just putting on the finishing touches."

"Can I see it too?" Finn's voice emanated from somewhere upstairs; it was pleading, not to mention kind of pathetic.

Kurt sighed loudly enough for Finn to hear. "All right, fine. But don't you touch it."

"I won't! I promise!"

"Promises, promises. You make them so easily. If only you found it that easy to keep them." His voice had taken on an airy, put-upon tone that Dave couldn't help but snicker at, despite Finn's discomfiture.

"Aw, c'mon, Kurt, I said I was sorry..."

Kurt rolled his eyes as he led his father and Dave upstairs; Finn, bouncing on the balls of his feet like a puppy, quickly appeared next to Kurt's bedroom door. Studiously ignoring his stepbrother, Kurt rested one of his hands on his bedroom door in a dramatic pose. All at once, he twisted the knob and pushed the door open. "Ta da!"

The outfit was hanging from an empty rack in the middle of the room, perfectly set up so that the overhead light bathed it in warmth. Of the four men on the other side of the door, three stared while the fourth beamed in pleasure.

"It's a homage to the royal wedding, with a touch of the Scottish, of course. Well? What do you think?"

"It's you, Kurt," Dave finally said. "It's really you."

"Is that a skirt?" Finn asked, squinting.

"It's a kilt, thank you very much."

Finn got a weird, sappy grin on his face. "So you'd be like a gay Braveheart! Cool!"

"Dad?"

"I... dunno, Kurt..."

"About what?"

Burt cleared his throat nervously. "Don't you think it's a little... much?"

"Much?"

"For a dance... full of high school kids. It's a little..."

"Provocative?" Kurt asked flatly. "I'm asking for it with this outfit?"

"No! It's just... It's made to get attention. Stir the pot. I'm not sure that's something you really want to be doing."

"It's okay, Burt," Finn said. "The Bully Whips..."

"Can't be everywhere at once. You're one of a kind, Kurt, everyone knows that. I just don't think you should be..."

"Shoving my personality in their faces." Kurt's voice was even more lacking in affect, something none of his listeners thought possible.

"Please, Kurt, you know what I mean..."

"I do. And that's the problem." Kurt turned pleadingly towards his friend. "Dave...?"

"Wear it," Dave said without hesitation. Burt gave him a surprised look.

Kurt couldn't help but gasp, given what only he and Dave knew. "Really...?"

"Really." He turned to Burt. "Don't worry, Mr. Hummel, it won't just be the Bully Whips. I'll be there, and I'll kick the ass of anyone who even looks at him funny." Dave returned his gaze to Kurt, whose fingers were still brushing his lips. "Like I said, that outfit's you. And if you can't be you, well, the douches already win." Finn nodded in agreement.

"Well..." Burt shuffled his feet. "All right. I'm trusting you boys to keep an eye out."

"Dad, I'm not a child. Don't worry. I'll be fine." He smiled at Dave, who gave his own shy smile back. Yes, he really would be fine. Somehow, he knew that as a stone cold fact.

Afterward, Kurt would wonder who was more nervous: him or Blaine. Third period from Chem to French was, according to Artie, a tricky knot in scheduling. With Tina unavailable at the last minute, he'd had no choice but to assign that escort duty to Blaine (although only after at least two tiresome rounds of "are you sure" and "I told you, yes, I'm sure" with Kurt).

The two walked down the hall, Blaine taking firm, no-nonsense strides, the overhead fluorescents casting squares of light over his sunglasses. Kurt clutched his books to his chest as he followed, feeling strangely like a celebrity charge in the care of some professional security detail (which, at least for McKinley, the Bully Whips were). It didn't take them long to reach the French classroom.

"Okay, here we are," Blaine said in a clipped, professional voice. "Brittany will be here to accompany you to lunch at first bell."

"Understood," Kurt nodded. "Though..." He licked his lips, unsure if he should continue. His mind propelled him on. "No one's so much as said 'boo' to me since I've been back."

Blaine's chest puffed up with pride. "Just goes to show how good the Bully Whips are."

"Yes, but... maybe it's more than that. Maybe... you've taught them to respect their gay peers. Or at least tolerate them. Or at the very least keep their negative feelings to themselves." Kurt could see one of Blaine's eyebrows twitch. "Maybe... it's safe." He didn't add the words "for you too," but he didn't have to.

Blaine snorted. "Yeah, right."

Even with the sunglasses blocking his eyes, Kurt could see the emotions flashing across Blaine's face. He pressed on, not wanting to lose the moment. "I believed you when you said you'd changed, Blaine. I still do." He swallowed. "It was easy to hate you when you were hiding all your pain, but now... It's all I can see. You're taking off the masks... That's wonderful. It's the first step to..."

To his surprise, Blaine immediately turned around and stumbled away. He followed, concerned, as Blaine threw open a classroom door. Kurt entered after him. The room was empty, and Blaine was sitting at one of the desks, his sunglasses lying in front of him, his face buried in his hands, his shoulders heaving. Kurt stood and watched patiently as the door clicked shut behind him. "W-why?" Blaine finally asked, his phlegmy voice muffled by his hands. "Why are you treating me this way?"

"What way? Like a fellow human being?"

"Yes!" he burst out, his head snapping up. Blaine's face was streaked with tears. God, I'm such a woman, he thought bitterly. "Why don't... why don't you hate me?"

"Like I said, it's harder to do now that I know who you really are. And that person... he's so much better than the sarcastic, bitter jock you were pretending to be. Even if you don't believe that, then believe that he could become that much better... if he stopped torturing himself for being who he is." Kurt sat at one of the other desks, careful to keep his distance; he wasn't sure Blaine was ready for anything closer. "I'm not saying you need to leap out of your closet now. But maybe you and the other Bully Whips have created a new world, one where you could. Let me repeat that: you helped create that world."

"Oh, God..." Blaine's voice was a hoarse whisper, the tears flowing even more freely. "Kurt, I'm sorry. I stalked you and made you miserable and I'm so fucking sorry. If I recruited a hundred Bully Whips, it wouldn't make up for everything, but..."

Kurt nodded, getting a little choked up himself. "I know. I know you're truly sorry."

"But... do you... do you forgive me?"

"I..." Now that, Kurt thought, was a very good question. "I think... you're well on your way to earning it, at the very least."

Blaine sniffled. "Yeah, well... That's way more than I thought I'd ever get."

"Deserving has nothing to do with it. Forgiveness lies in the heart of the person who gives it. If it's given... just take it and deal with it." Kurt smiled a little.

"Sure. Yeah." The bell had rung sometime during their conversation, but neither had heard it. Blaine finally wiped his face and rose, putting his sunglasses back on. He led Kurt out of the classroom and back to the door of the French room, now closed. "You'd better get to class."

"Yeah, I probably should."

"I'm on the schedule to take you from lunch to British Lit. Make sure to wait for me, okay?"

Kurt nodded. "You're the Bully Whip."

"Good." Blaine stalked off, not even looking back. Kurt watched him disappear down the hall, his mind a roil, before finally entering his French class.

Next: Da prom...