A/N: The beginning of Act Two; an act I like to call "Proactivity and the Modern Teenager". I am so, so sorry for the wait–this chapter is a little longer than the others in compensation. Hello all you new readers, I hope your enjoying the story! Please don't be shy and feel free to leave constructive criticism! Or even just a little note saying hi.

Kurt turned off the car and took out the keys.

Breathe in.

Calm.

Breathe out.

Even calmer.

No fear. No worries.

Super calm.

Calm like no one had ever been calm before. Calm like he was breaking world records calm. Guinness couldn't even calculate his calmness, he was so calm. Cool, collected, and appropriately vicious. Looking fabulous—turtlenecks and gloves were a sleek you-cannot-touch-me advertisement—and feeling great. No, scratch that, feeling fantastic. This was going to go fantastically. This was going to go so well he would sing a song about how well it went in glee club today. That's how absolutely confident and calm he was, because he had absolutely no nerves and no fear and—

"Would you like some help?" Blaine silently offered his hand beside him.

"Yes," exploded out of Kurt, and the hand was gripped tightly in his own in seconds. Blaine laced their fingers together and Kurt's eyes closed in relief as reassurance warmed up his arm, calming the fluttering hummingbirds in his stomach.

"Thank you," he sighed gratefully. As Blaine's paranormal comfort traveled through his body, he realized he had drawn his shoulders up tight against his neck. Relaxing, he let them drop. Breathing in was much easier the second time.

Okay. That was wonderful. That had helped a lot. He didn't know what it was that made being around Blaine feel so comforting and safe, but he hoped whatever the cause it never went away. He gave Blaine's fingers a last, parting squeeze before slipping his hand away.

Or—attempting to, at any rate.

"What are you doing?" Blaine asked him, tightening his grip around Kurt's hand. Kurt turned to look at him in surprise.

"If anyone sees us like this, they're going to make assumptions," Kurt began. His eyes darted out the car window to the dumpster—where, had it been earlier in the day, there would have stood a gaggle of intellectually-challenged athletes. "They bullied me before I even came out. If they see you holding hands with me—"

"You'd prefer it if I let go?" Blaine interrupted bluntly.

"No," Kurt said much too emphatically to allow for plausible deniability later (be more obvious, Kurt, I dare you). "Of course not, but—"

"Then I'm not letting go," Blaine said simply.

Kurt despaired. "Look, you can't worry about being bullied yourself on top of dealing with everyone's emotions and helping me confront Karofsky. This isn't going to work!"

"Kurt," Blaine half-laughed, "You forget I spent most of my life without mental walls." Kurt hadn't forgotten, but that didn't make this any easier. "I'll be fine," Blaine insisted. A spike of surety accompanied his words, and the both of them glanced down at their intertwined hands in surprise. Kurt looked up to see Blaine studying their fingers, a curious little smile hooked up under his lips. He peeked up at Kurt under long lashes and Kurt felt his heart flutter. "Kurt, you don't have to worry. I've been to public school before. It's nothing I can't handle."

Kurt felt his mind stop, and he blinked rapidly to restart it. "What?" he asked blankly. "You can't just slip things in there like that without telling me the whole story!"

Blaine just grinned and opened the car door, stepping outside and pulling Kurt awkwardly along over the divider with him, their hands remaining glued together. Kurt shuffled over the other seat and refused to acknowledge his heart's skipping when Blaine's other hand moved around his waist to help steady him as he exited the car.

"You could be making all of this up, for all I know," he protested. "'Oh, it's okay, Kurt, I've been to public school before.' 'Of course I've seen Sabrina the Teenage Witch!' 'Did I mention that I have no knowledge of any kind of cultural information from the last three years?' And you've never seen an iPod before in your life, but—don't tell me— you're best friends with Steve Jobs."

"It's why everyone loves Apple products so much," Blaine deadpanned. "They run on magic."

"You think you're so funny," Kurt sniffed. Blaine closed the car door behind Kurt and Kurt swallowed compulsively.

Now that he was outside of the safety of the car, all he wanted was to climb back in and lock the doors. Oh god. Karofsky was only feet away. And Blaine was coming with him, which could cause a whole other batch of problems and… He looked over at the school and felt himself drowning in trepidation.

Blaine's thumb stroked a soothing wave of support up through the back of his hand. Kurt closed his eyes and let out a shaky breath.

"It's going to be okay," Blaine told him softly. "We're going to make this okay."

Kurt nodded and opened his eyes.

Keeping a tight grip on Blaine's hand, he started walking toward the school.

—-

"And it all started when he kissed you."

Kurt nodded, and watched carefully for any sign that the boy in front of him was going to run away and never speak to him again. Blaine was frowning, his attention drawn to some inward calculations he seemed to be performing. Kurt wondered if those calculations would tell him what to do.

"I think," Blaine began, and then stopped. Kurt swallowed against a rising wave of hopelessness and resigned himself to watching Blaine's mental computation. If Blaine couldn't help him… As if unaware of itself, a tanned hand absent-mindedly reached for Kurt's arm and traced comfort into his veins. Kurt shivered as those gentle fingers drew patterns on his skin. "I need to feel him," Blaine said aloud, slowly, as he lightly sketched figure-eights of calming sensation up and down Kurt's arm. "You don't know what he's thinking, and that's what makes it so terrifying, right?" Kurt nodded even though Blaine hadn't turned to look at him. "So if we find out what he's feeling, maybe we can figure out a way to get through to him."

"And if he's feeling 'I really want to scare the crap out of a gay kid today'?" Kurt asked. Blaine's lips quirked upward.

"People who lash out at others are usually in pain themselves," Blaine told him, meeting his eyes. "Bullying and prejudice: that kind of hate stems from ignorance. We need to teach him that it's okay, that this is nothing to be afraid of."

Kurt took that in as Blaine suddenly looked down at his arm in surprise.

"I'm sorry!" He snatched his hand away, and Kurt lamented its loss immediately. "I didn't realize…" Blaine let out an embarrassed laugh. "I'm usually much better at controlling myself," he said, "I'm sorry."

"It's fine," Kurt breathed. Blaine sent him a shy smile.

"Anyway," he cleared his throat. "It looks like you'll have to let me come to school with you after all."

Kurt felt his face pinch with worry. "Will you be all right there?" he asked. "There'll be so many other people to deal with…"

"It's not going to be a problem," Blaine said immediately, with a self-assurance that didn't sit right with everything Kurt had seen Blaine deal with so far.

"You keep telling me to calm down," Kurt said suspiciously, "and that I'm overwhelming you. How is two hundred other people not calming down and thus overwhelming you 'not going to be a problem'?"

"Well for starters, I don't plan on touching them," Blaine smiled, "and that will make them quieter. And secondly, with you…" he hesitated. Kurt's eyebrows raised. With him? "It's different with you," Blaine admitted.

"How?" Kurt asked in honest bewilderment.

"You're… you feel things very deeply."

The words were careful. Kurt's eyes narrowed in scrutiny. Blaine wouldn't meet his eyes, and he couldn't help but feel there was something else he wasn't telling him.

"And how often do you come across people like me?" he probed.

Blaine stayed silent.

Then: "Going to school won't be a problem," he said firmly.

—-

The halls were silent as they walked into the school. It had only been two and a half hours since Kurt had left earlier that day, but it felt like he had barely been gone ten minutes. There were only a few more hours left before school would be out for the day and glee club would start.

The bell rang as they made their way to Kurt's locker, and the halls flooded with students all heading to the cafeteria. Kurt clutched tightly to Blaine's hand as a few bumped and jostled against him. Blaine remained stoically pleasant even as Kurt felt him tense a little next to him.

"Are you all right?" he asked.

"It's just been a while. I'll be fine in a minute."

Sure enough, a few minutes later Blaine released a controlled breath and relaxed again. "Not a problem," he breathed, looking so proud of himself Kurt couldn't stop the swell of fondness that rose up inside his chest. Blaine looked at him in askance, but Kurt shook his head.

"Thank you for doing this with me," he said. Blaine's face softened.

"You shouldn't have to be terrified to live your life," he said quietly. "Anyone would have done the same."

Kurt was positive that wasn't true. It was what made Blaine's help that much more extraordinary—the fact that Blaine didn't even realize his actions were so unusual.

They didn't run into any of Kurt's friends while they made their way down the halls (thankfully—Kurt didn't want to see the assumptions written on their faces as they caught sight of them). A few people Kurt didn't know shot them strange looks, but Blaine's hand felt warm and comforting in his own so Kurt sent his own look right on back. That's right, he's holding my hand. Did you want to do something about it? (It seemed the answer was "no", as almost all of the kids glanced away the minute they made eye contact. A tiny buzz of victory hummed fierce inside his stomach with each turn of the head.)

They reached the locker relatively unscathed, and Kurt froze as he caught sight of Karofsky passing down the adjacent hallway. Blaine's fingers tightened around his own.

"That's him?" he asked urgently. Kurt could only nod. They watched as the jock made his way through the crowd of students. "We should do this in a public place," Blaine murmured. "We don't want a repeat of the first time you tried to confront him."

"No," Kurt said shakily. "That wouldn't be ideal."

Blaine tugged his hand and they headed down into the hallway, settling a few steps behind Karofsky. Kurt tensed as they drew closer to him, crossing the fingers of his free hand in empty prayer.

They were a turn away from the cafeteria when Karofsky suddenly broke off and turned around. Kurt's heart jumped into his throat as the bully gave them a hard glare.

"Would you stop following me?" he demanded, glancing around the emptying hallway.

"We just want to talk," Blaine said, holding out his free hand in a gesture of surrender. Karofsky gave him a blatant once-over—lingering on their clasped hands—before ignoring him and turning to Kurt.

"This your boyfriend, Kurt?" he asked, eyes unreadable. Kurt's teeth clenched together.

"Why, planning on kissing him too?" he bit out. Karofsky's eyes darted panicked around the hall at their apparently deaf peers. Turning the full force of his glare back to the two if them, he scoffed. He gave Blaine one more lasting look before shouldering in between the two, breaking their hands apart and heading away from them. Kurt watched as Blaine's head snapped around to watch him go, a speculative look in his eyes. He could almost see the whirring of Blaine's thoughts as they flew around his brain. Then, suddenly—

Blaine took off after Karofsky. "Blaine!" Kurt reached out to stop him but he was a second too late, Blaine's hand slipping just out of his reach. Kurt's hand felt naked without its warmth. "Wait!" He ran to catch up.

Blaine had clasped his fingers around Karofsky's wrist before Kurt could do anything, and like lightning Karofsky shoved him up hard against the wall. Kurt winced in sympathetic pain at the force of it. "I said stop it," Karofsky growled. Blaine's hand stayed tight around his wrist, digging in firmly as he kept eye contact. Kurt didn't know who to be more worried for in that moment: Blaine, or Karofsky.

"It's okay to be scared," Blaine said firmly, sparks of amber floating in his eyes as he stared Karofsky down. "This is scary. It's confusing. But taking all of that out on Kurt won't change anything. You know that." He must have been trying to calm Karofsky down because the jock's breathing was evening out as Blaine spoke, Blaine's grip loosening a little as it did so. Kurt stayed tense and watching, waiting for a moment he might have to step in.

"You aren't alone in this," Blaine said quietly. "Not if you don't want to be."

And suddenly it was like something had reared up inside of Karofsky—a fast violence manifesting itself in a fist that came crashing towards Blaine's face—

Kurt moved, shoved with all of his might, a hurricane of fury because Blaine had just been trying to help and he didn't deserve this, Kurt didn't deserve this, and he was so sick of it, Karofsky needed to take his own damn advice and just stop!

He hadn't realized he had said the last part aloud until he caught sight of Karofsky, who looked an alarming mix of stunned and distressed. Kurt felt a twinge of reluctant sympathy.

"You… Just stay away from me!" Karofsky snarled before taking off down the hallway. The sympathy was swept away by a surge of irritation. That works both ways, idiot! Kurt wanted to scream. Anger bubbled up from the pit of his stomach, boiling down his arms, his legs, through his feet. Well, that had been utterly useless. And he had been so positive Blaine would ride into school with him on a white horse and save the stupid day. Kurt kicked a nearby locker in frustration.

"That went well," came Blaine's flippant voice. Kurt shot him a look out of the corners of his eyes. Blaine gave a wide-eyed, defensive shrug, his raised eyebrows crying innocence. Kurt shook his head, not in the mood.

"He's just as scared as you are, you know," Blaine continued in that quiet way he favored.

"That's really not helpful," Kurt snapped. "And not what I want to hear right now."

Blaine frowned but didn't say anything, instead taking to watching him angrily pace the hall. "What am I supposed to do now?" Kurt asked anxiously, the boiling itch of his anger keeping him moving. "We've only made things worse!"

"We haven't."

"And how do you know?" Kurt cried.

"We haven't," Blaine repeated frankly. The confidence in his voice was like a balm to Kurt's prickling bones, allowing him to slow down. To stop. Kurt looked at the boy in front of him and remembered that Blaine knew everything—that this was the one boy in his entire world that understood everything—and he felt his anger melt away.

In the quiet of the hallway, alone with only Blaine to witness him: he let himself be scared.

"What if this doesn't change anything?" he heard himself asking, feeling so much smaller than he was. "What if he just keeps… keeps doing things?"

Blaine's eyes held a care Kurt had never received from another boy.

"Then you tell me," Blaine said. "And we do something a little more drastic."

Kurt's jaw trembled slightly before he got it under control, breathing deeply to stop himself from crying. He nodded once, tightly.

Under honeyed scrutiny, Kurt pulled himself back together. He jumped a little when he felt a hand on his shoulder, before realizing it was just that—a hand. No influencing warmth or reassurance or comfort flowed into him, and Kurt turned to look at Blaine in confusion. The other boy only smiled kindly back.

"Do you have that singing club today?" Blaine asked helpfully. Kurt's confusion didn't lift.

"Yes," he said slowly.

"Why don't we go wait in the classroom until it starts?" Blaine squeezed his shoulder. "You can show me around. Sing me something."

Kurt felt the smallest of smiles fizz just behind his lips.

He wondered at how a boy who had randomly appeared in his backyard one night had, in the course of a week, become one of his closest friends.

"That sounds like a suitable activity to occupy ourselves with," he said lightly. Lacing their fingers together once more—because he could, because he wanted to—Kurt led Blaine to the choir room.

His mind spun with appropriate songs to sing.