A/N: :D

It was just after lunch that Kurt decided he should try talking to Blaine again. After seven days apart, it was killing him, knowing that Blaine was right there - and yet he couldn't talk to him, because Blaine was being stubborn .

The nurse had left half an hour ago, and he crept into Blaine's section.

"Blaine?"

"Kurt…"

"Don't you dare tell me to go away, Blaine Anderson. You owe me an explanation."

"What?"

"You leave me. You don't call, write or drop in for seven days, and then you just appear. What's your angle?"

Blaine looked at him incredulously.

"Are you serious?" he muttered flatly.

Kurt raised an eyebrow.

"I come in here, bruised and with…with these fucking things, and the only thing you can think about is yourself?"

Kurt sniffed impatiently. "No. The only things I can think about is us. And you." He said boldly.

"Kurt, I am broken. There isn't an us. There's me and there's you."

Kurt swallowed the hurt that was building in his chest.

"No. There's definitely an us. We kissed, if you hadn't realised. You don't just kiss someone and leave. Unless you're a whore. And I don't think you are, Blaine." He continued, realising he had digressed. "Anyway…Blaine…you've been the one thing on my mind since you left. And you think I'm not broken? Blaine…it's been you that's stopped me from chucking my guts up each time I eat."

Blaine was silent, eating up his words and trying to figure out if he was telling the truth.

"I'm not."

Kurt blinked. "What?"

"I'm not a whore."

Kurt was silent for a few seconds, before he suddenly burst into peals of laughter. Blaine frowned, watching him. When he'd finally calmed down, he shot a quizzical look at Kurt.

"That was the only thing you got out of my rant?" Kurt asked, grinning.

Blaine managed a weak smile. "I…I was trying to let you know that it's not over between us."

Kurt bit his lip, his gaze on the floor, trying to keep a faint smile on his lips. "It didn't sound like that earlier."

Blaine shrugged. "I was pissed earlier."

"And you aren't now?"

Blaine shook his head sadly. "It's hard to be pissed when I talk to you."

Kurt let a smile escape his lips, taking Blaine's hand again. "What happened? Why are you back?"

"I don't want to talk about it." Blaine whispered.

Kurt paused. "Can you at least tell me why you didn't say goodbye?"

Blaine closed his eyes. "My dad. He didn't let me."

Kurt faltered. He didn't expect that. He was at least thinking it had something to do with him.

"Why?"

Blaine turned his head to the side, his eyes trained on the floor. "He…isn't too comfortable with the fact that…I'm gay…and when he found out I wanted to say goodbye to a guy…he was…wasn't pleased."

Kurt took a moment – he was stunned, to say the least. Blaine's life at home – any life at home had been steered clear of – it seemed irrelevant to know, but now…

"Blaine…did you give yourself these bruises?"

He was silent, tears making steady tracks down his face.

"Was it your dad?"

Blaine took a deep, shuddering breath – trying to compose himself before he could continue.

"Yeah. It was him."

Kurt's eyes widened, his eyes following the line of bruises before they disappeared under his clothes.

"Blaine…have you told the nurses?"

"They're not going to believe me." He bit. "I'm the suicidal dickhead that got released far too early."

"Well maybe if you explained the situation-"

"Kurt, I'm only nearly fifteen years old, and he's a grown up. Who do you think they'll believe?" he muttered flatly, and Kurt frowned.

"Blaine, it's not right! He can't just hurt you like-"

"He's been doing it since the day I told him I was gay."

Kurt was rendered speechless again.

"So your wrists…"

"Yeah. I did them myself."

"Oh."

Kurt had to look at them again – he was compelled to those gleaming bandages.

"You're looking at me again."

"Yeah." Kurt whispered. "How did they find you?"

"School bathrooms."

Kurt frowned. "Why there?"

"I'm gay and was forced to do a holiday program at my public school, a course full of homophobic dickheads, why the hell do you think Kurt?"

"Oh."

Blaine frowned. "I wasn't going to talk to you."

Kurt grinned. "I'm glad you find it hard to resist me."

Blaine shook his head, a small smile escaping his lips.

"Blaine... Didn't they ask where the bruises came from?"

"Yeah..."

"What did you tell them?"

"I...didn't. I couldn't. It just would have made things worse."

"But... if they knew, they wouldn't make you go back... You'd get put with a foster family or something, and it would go through the courts and-"

"Kurt, how is that any better? What happens if my father wins and I have to go back to live with him? Everything will just be so much worse."

"But Blaine..."

"Drop it Kurt."

Kurt gave a small sigh, playing with Blaine's fingers.

"You'd win though."

Blaine glared at him, and he did let it go. He could press Blaine about it later.

They fell silent again, as Kurt searched for something to say.

"Did you miss me?"

There was a weird silence, and Blaine let out a breath.

"You're the only thing that kept me alive." He whispered. "I thought about killing myself every time I got…every time my father hurt me…but then I thought about visiting you, and everything got a little better. But then…it just…it got too much."

Kurt swallowed hard, his mouth parted a little.

"Really?"

For the first time, Blaine squeezed back. "Really."

"Boys…" a tentative voice called from the curtain.

Jessie stepped in, and Blaine visibly withdrew, a hard expression flickering over his face.

"Hi." Kurt said, almost happily.

"I hate to interrupt, but Kurt, you'll be late for group if you don't hurry."

Kurt bit his lip. "Can't I…"

"Nope. Blaine's got a private session in a few minutes."

Kurt pouted slightly, glancing at Blaine. He was glaring at the floor – at his hands – anything that wasn't Jessie. He sighed, giving Blaine's hand another squeeze before standing up.

"I'll see you after therapy?"

Blaine gave the slightest of nods, but didn't say anything. Kurt and Jessie exchanged a confused glance before Kurt left, throwing Blaine a smile before he disappeared behind the curtain.

"Blaine…You'll be getting your regular therapist today…" Jessie straightened the bed sheets. "How are you feeling?"

Blaine glared at the ground.

"Are you going to talk to me?"

Jessie sighed when he didn't reply.

"Are you going to talk to Dr. Miles?"

Still no reply.

"Blaine…you'll be strapped down for longer if you don't talk. Remember – faking it? You can be as sad as you like on your own, but if you want to be here forever, keep on doing what you're doing."

"And what if I do want to stay here?"

Jessie frowned – glad he was talking, but trying not to react. "Blaine, nobody wants to stay here. I don't even want to stay here sometimes."

"I do."

She sighed. "Why?"

"It's easier than being at home."

Jessie frowned, perching on the edge of his bed. "You know…we can't legally let you go if you aren't ready."

Blaine's head perked up. "What?"

"This place is all about mentality. We try and convince you that you want to go home. That you are ready to go home. But if you fight it, and convince us that you aren't ready, then we can't let you go."

Blaine's eyes lit up. "Really?"

Jessie grinned. "I may be a nurse, but I'm only junior staff. I'm still your friend, Blaine."

He grinned easily – a genuine smile slipping through. "Thanks Jessie."

A knock on the door interrupted them, and Jessie grinned.

"Have fun!"