Kurt numbly brushed the pad of his thumb over his marred cheek, the aching tendrils of pain shooting up from the contact like the spurring of a bonfire. It flared and simmered in a fashion similar to flames, and despite his hopes, the icy contrast of his hand only succeeded in bringing more attention to the area. He allowed his arm fall to his side and stared at the dashboard in front of him in a strange sort of daze. This time there would be no excuses, no false explanations of tripping while dancing, or getting hit by a football, or falling during the Cheerios pyramid, or slipping on the stairs. He had run the gambit of stories. It was time to fess up, whether he wanted to or not.

It wasn't Burt that he was concerned most about, though he definitely made the list. Ever since Kurt had returned to McKinley, Blaine had been increasingly concerned for his safety. Kurt had managed to keep the first few injuries from his boyfriend a secret until they healed and faded, but it wasn't until a recent make out session that Blaine had discovered one of the many bruises littering Kurt's ribs.

"I slipped during Glee club." That had been Kurt's first excuse. Ever since then, Blaine seemed to be constantly questioning Kurt about the bullying situation at school, how he was coping, if he had been harassed, if he felt safe… Sometimes during hugs, Kurt could almost swear that Blaine was probing for sore spots, testing areas around his middle to see if he was unscathed.

But, Kurt had been lucky before—if you could call his school life lucky. The bullies had been conscious enough not to hit anywhere on his face, probably because they knew those kinds of injuries were the ones that would get them into trouble. Every shove, every punch, every slam had been below the neck. It was the only reason Kurt had not yet been found out. Of course, Kurt knew that Blaine had not truly believed his lies, but at least there was some small bit of doubt that prevented any certainty. Now that doubt was gone. What kind of realistic explanation was there for a black eye and a busted cheek?

Kurt turned the key in the ignition with hopeless finality. The act was over. What was he going to do now?

The drive home was pretty much a blur. Kurt couldn't remember exactly how he arrived from the school to his house, but as he sat in the driveway with the AC still running, he couldn't find the energy to care. All he could focus on was the fact that he had about half an hour before Blaine showed up. It was Wednesday, the day Blaine drove down from Westerville to have dinner with him and his family. Normally, Kurt and Blaine would have a few hours to themselves in the afternoons before the parents came home; Finn hung out with Puck after school so the house would be completely empty.

Kurt shut off the engine and climbed out of the seat. He could feel the blood pulsing thickly beneath the skin of the bruise and he grimaced as he reached for the key to the front door.

Once he was inside, he tossed his backpack on the kitchen and retreated to his room downstairs, clinging to the hope that a gratuitous amount of concealer could fix his face.

He was sadly disappointed. With s frustrated sigh, Kurt carefully wiped the makeup from his skin, wincing when he pressed down too hard. There was no use in trying to hide it now.

Eventually he plopped down on his bed, too depressed to even take off his Donna Karen cashmere sweater to prevent it from wrinkling. He had about fifteen minutes before Blaine would arrive so he decided on watching some tasteless TV show to pass the time. Kurt reached somberly for the remote and turned on Desperate Housewives, snuggling up with his favorite pillow and nestling into the unmade comforter.

Blaine POV

Blaine didn't ring the doorbell anymore; he knew Kurt kept the front door unlocked for him on Wednesdays, so he took the liberty of inviting himself in. In a way, Kurt's house had become Blaine's second home. Despite the lavishness of his own house, Blaine actually preferred Kurt's more; it felt comfortable and cozy, and there was family and a sense of belonging. Blaine's house was immaculate, but it was cold. There was no feeling of, 'yeah, this is where I live'; it was like they were living in a model, like it wasn't really their own.

Blaine stepped into the small foyer, breathing in the faint scent of wood polish and dust, and he smiled. He loved the place. He loved how the floorboards creaked beneath him and he loved how there were tiny cracks where the baseboard met the wall and he loved how the rooms were decorated with embarrassing baby pictures. Laughing quietly at a picture of Kurt at eight years old, Blaine rid himself of his jacket and loosened his tie.

"Kurt?" He called, ambling down the hall and into the kitchen.

No answer came, and Blaine's brow furrowed. Normally, Kurt greeted him at the door. The change in rhythm was discomforting.

"Kurt? Kurt, are you home?"

A few seconds passed and then a quiet answer came from below.

"Down here."

With concern etched into his face, Blaine made his way to the basement door and descended down the stairs. He could hear the faint sounds of the television, some girl yelling out 'you bitch!' through the speakers. Kurt didn't say anything else.

"Kurt, are you feeling okay? Is that Desperate Housewives, New Jersey?"

"Yeah, I'm okay." Kurt's meek voice replied.

Blaine swallowed. Something was off. He turned the corner into Kurt's room and found him lying on the bed, his face stuffed into a down pillow, completely ignoring the figures on the screen.

"Kurt, baby, what's wrong? Do you feel sick?" Blaine asked cautiously. He walked to the edge of the bed and knelt down on his knees, dropping to Kurt's eye level. He felt the stirrings of unease in his stomach and he placed his hand on the back of Kurt's thigh, rubbing gently back and forth. Blaine saw him relax under his touch, but Kurt still refused to look up from the pillow.

"Please look at me, Kurt." Blaine murmured, his hands ghosting up to knead at Kurt's lower back. The taller boy let out a small sigh, be it from the massage or from other emotions, Blaine didn't know. Kurt lifted his hand and grabbed at air, finally finding its place as it became clutched protectively in Blaine's.

"Don't…don't freak out, okay? Do you promise?" Kurt whispered into the fabric. Blaine felt his insides clench, but he held himself together, forcing his voice to come out calmly.

"I promise I won't freak out. Please look at me; I want to see my beautiful boyfriend."

Blaine could feel the muscle's tighten in Kurt's back from nervousness. After a drawn out moment, Kurt lifted his face from the pillow, his eyes shut tightly against spilling tears.

Blaine's breath caught in the back of his throat. His mind froze momentarily and became an empty void of shock. And then, so quickly it could be considered explosive, he filled with frightening, furious emotions, terrifying in their potency and overwhelming in their strength.

The right side of Kurt's face was swollen, stained purple and red from the after effects of blunt force trauma. The bruise wrapped around the curve of his cheekbone, darkening in the middle where it became the border of a long, dark gash, before creeping up underneath his eye and along the slope of his nose and temple. Shiny, watery streaks cut through the middle of it all from recent tears.

Blaine was startled by how he felt; the rage, the protectiveness, the hurt. The two things that prevented him from screaming was the fact that he was holding Kurt's hand and that he'd promised not to go postal. He took a deep breath, willing himself to calm down before he did something stupid, like punch a wall. After a few seconds he was coherent again, and he lifted his fingers to Kurt's face, placing feather-light touches along the mark.

"Who…who did this to you?" Blaine asked, cutting to the chase. He wouldn't accept another story this time.

"J-just some of the puck-heads. And Azimio. It's sort of my fault though; I called one of them a hulking Neanderthal."

Before he could process it, Blaine pulled Kurt into a tight hug, molding him against his chest and cradling his face in his palm. He pressed fierce kisses into his boyfriend's hair, breathing in the scent of Kurt's musky shampoo.

"It is never your fault. Do you understand me? Never. I'm so, so sorry Kurt. I'm so sorry…I should have been there to protect you. I knew all of this was happening but I ignored it because you wanted me to; I should have brought more attention to it, I should have been there to stop them, I should have—"

"Shoulda, woulda, coulda." Kurt whispered. Blaine framed Kurt's face with his hands and he angled the boy's face so he could meet his eyes. There were no more tears; instead, they were filled with weary emotion. "Don't beat yourself up over this—no pun intended. It wasn't your fault. There was nothing you could have done, Blaine. Those guys are just ignorant and hateful and stupid, and they're always going to be ignorant and hateful and stupid."

"I'm such a bad boyfriend." Blaine sighed, and rested his forehead against Kurt's, tracing the line of the boy's collar bone before sweeping up to where his neck met his shoulders.

"Hey, don't say that." Kurt chided, his voice regaining some of his former diva power. Blaine smiled tiredly and pulled Kurt up to his level so he could cover the boy's lips with his own. The kiss meant to be apologetic at first, but as Blaine's emotions became translated into the physical, the innocence was overwhelmed with a possessive fervor. Blaine snaked one arm around the taller boy's slender waist and his other hand knotted in Kurt's chestnut hair, pulling him against his chest in a desperate attempt to get closer. His hot breath collided with the soft skin of Kurt's lips as he came up for breath, and then he was diving in again, drowning in the sensations that threatened to end all sensible thought. He ran his fingers up and down the length of Kurt's back, his chest flurrying when he felt Kurt sigh contentedly in his mouth. Blaine took advantage of the moment and thrust in his tongue to meet Kurt's own, tasting a hint of coffee and peppermint and warmth.

His body moved on its own, repositioning both of them so Kurt was lying on the mattress and Blaine was resting on top of him. His hands flew up to cup the boy's cheeks, moving Kurt's face so he could reach deeper.

And then Kurt winced.

Blaine's eyes flew open and he jumped up so quickly it was almost comical.

"Oh—oh god, I'm so sorry, are you okay?"

"I'm fine." Kurt sighed in annoyance, his cheeks flushed from heavy breathing. Blaine ran his hand through the stiff gel in his hair, looking down into his lap guiltily. Thankfully, his uniform pants did a good job of hiding his 'problem', but he couldn't stop feeling as if he had crossed a boundary. He shouldn't have gone that far while Kurt was going through a crisis; it was almost taking advantage of him, right? But, as Blaine had experienced many times before, being that close to Kurt—kissing him and breathing him in—always got him completely unhinged.

"Why did you stop?" Kurt asked quietly.

"Because…because you're vulnerable right now and I should be comforting you, not…getting excited. You don't need that right now, you need support and—"

"Blaine." Kurt interrupted and rolled his eyes. The taller boy reached up and yanked at Blaine's tie, pulling him closer. "I need you. So shut up and kiss me, fool."

Blaine let Kurt wrench their lips together again, moving in a synchronized motion until his lungs screamed for air. Once their lips separated, Kurt was attacking his neck, biting down on the fragile skin just underneath Blaine's jaw and sucking hard. The feeling deemed too much for Blaine to handle and he let out a strangled groan.

"Nng…K-kurt…wait—"

"Ugh, what?" Kurt growled in exasperation, forcing himself to detach from Blaine's neck. Blaine looked into Kurt's eyes and was startled to see the blown out, lustful pupils. He almost started to reach out again, to jam Kurt deeper into the comforter, but his obnoxious conscience won out.

"I'm sorry, I just—I don't want to do anything that might cause you any pain. Can we please just go upstairs and get you an ice pack? I know it hurts more than you're letting on."

Kurt rolled his eyes again but nodded, allowing Blaine to wiggle out of his grasp so he could stand. Kurt rolled to the edge of the bed and stood, wobbling enough that he had to reach out and steady himself on the bedpost.

"Are you okay?" Blaine asked nervously, darting to his boyfriend's side.

"I'm fine. Please stop worrying about me, okay? It was just a head rush." Kurt sighed. "Look, I don't want you to feel like you have to walk on egg shells with me, alright? I'm not a complete wreck right now, so I'd appreciate it if you would just be normal."

Blaine felt the tugging of a smile on his lips. Kurt was so brave. Braver than he would ever be.

"Okay. No more weirdness, I promise." Blaine murmured, leaning up and pressing a kiss to Kurt's forehead. As he pulled back, he spotted a playful glint in his boyfriend's eye. "What is it?"

"Piggyback me?" Kurt batted his eyelashes and grinned. Blaine chuckled and felt a happy warmth spread through his chest.

"Of course."