I'm currently going through editing these chapters for errors. I'm going to be doing this with all of my stories.

Finn walked into their room, chucking his backpack toward the wall. Anger blazed brilliantly in his eyes as he glared at Kurt, who was reading the latest issue of Vogue on his bed, smiling at whatever he was reading. "Why are you so damn happy?" Finn demanded.

"Oh, it's this article about the proper way to care for your skin," Kurt gushed. "You wouldn't believe-"

Finn knocked the magazine out of his stepbrother's hand. "You think I care?" Finn sneered. "You think I give a damn about all the faggy stuff you're into?"

Kurt flinched at the word. Seriously, he had just gotten home from Dalton for the weekend and had started reading. "What's your problem?"

"My problem? My problem is that both girlfriends I've ever had both cheated on me." He glared at Kurt. "And you. You're off at your perfect school, living your perfect life," he spat. "You're gay! Your life shouldn't be this easy and it damn sure shouldn't be easier than mine!"

"Finn, calm down!" Kurt stood up, staring up at the taller teen in alarm.

"Don't tell me to 'calm down', fag!" Finn hissed, punctuating the last word with a blow to Kurt's jaw. Kurt stumbled back, a brilliant bruise blossoming against his pale skin. Finn felt a rush of appreciation at the pain he was causing the other boy. He threw another hit, leaving a perfect purple mark in its wake.

"Finn, stop!" Kurt shrieked, tears streaming down his face.

He stared down at the sobbing teen. "Fine," he responded indifferently. "I'll finish later." With that, he turned and left the room, slamming the door behind him. Kurt collapsed on his bed, clutching his sides as he sobbed.

"Imma get your heart racin' in my skin tight jeans,

Be your teenage dream tonight.

Let you put your hands on me in my skin tight jeans,

Be your teenage dream tonight."

Blaine, Kurt thought, reaching for his phone.

Hey, want to go get some coffee with me? -HP4Life

Kurt smiled through his tears, wincing from the pain in his jaw and cheek as he did so.

Sure, just let me get ready. -Caged

K. Be there in a bit. -HP4Life

Kurt rolled out of bed, looking into his mirror and cringing. Two angry bruises stood out; one under his right eye and one on his left jaw. With a sigh, he sat down at his vanity and picked up a bottle of concealer, flawlessly covering the bruises. Afterwards, in a very un-Kurt like manner, he pulled on a black v-neck, a pair of black skinny jeans, and his pair of black Converse. He left his room, taking the stairs two at a time. He grabbed his jacket off the hook by the front door, pulling it on as he walked out. To his pleasure, Blaine's car was already in the driveway. He hurried over to the care, yanking the door open so he could get in.

"What's wrong?" Blaine asked, pulling out of the driveway.

"What do you mean?" Kurt responded innocently.

"Your hair's a wreck, and I'm pretty sure this is the first time I've seen you wear a t-shirt."

Kurt stayed silent, staring out of the window. Blaine's eyes flickered over to him a few times as he waited for an answer. "It's nothing, Blaine."

Blaine pulled into the parking lot of Starbucks and turned off the car. He twisted in his seat, locking eyes with Kurt. "Why are you lying, Kurt?" He asked sadly, reaching a hand out to stroke the younger teen's cheek.

Kurt flinched as Blaine's thumb slid over the bruise under his eye. The older boy noticed, shifting his eyes to that spot. "It's nothing," Kurt repeated, biting his lower lip, ignoring the other teen's previous question.

Blaine pulled his hand back, his eyes widening slightly as he realized what was wrong. He immediately turned the car back on, pulling out of the lot, the thought of coffee completely out of his mind.

-break- -break- -break- -break- -break- -break- -break-

"Where are we at?" Kurt asked as they finally pulled into the driveway of what could only be described as a mansion. They had been driving for almost an hour in complete silence, since Blaine had refused to answer his demands to know where they were going.

"My house," Blaine answered as he turned off the car, got out and he started walking toward the door. Kurt, seeing no other option, got out and followed him.

Kurt felt his mouth drop open as they walked into the foyer. The floor was a gorgeous black marble tile. The walls were a dark shade of scarlet, which went beautifully with the floor. An extremely elaborate chandelier hung from the ceiling, casting off faucets of light. To top it all off, a black, wrought iron spiral staircase looped around the chandelier on its descent from the second floor.

Blaine took his hand, leading him up the stairs. "Blaine," Kurt murmured, still slightly awestruck. "What're we doing?" The older teen still didn't respond. So Kurt took to simply staring at everything around him. There was straight music painted on the walls. Like, complete pieces of music, signs, notes, and all that jazz, lining the hallway, begging for someone to play it. "Who did all of this?"

"I did," Blaine whispered, his free hand trailing along the music. "It's my floor of the house." He pulled Kurt into what could have only been his bedroom. The carpet was an incredibly plush burgundy color. The walls were gold with silver music painted across them. Stacks of books dominated one corner while the other was dedicated to a wide variety of musical instruments; all of which Kurt was certain Blaine could play. Tucked in the corner diagonal from the books was a huge, circular bed, fitted with black, silk covers. Blaine motioned for him to sit on the bed, letting go of his hand in the process as he walked through a door that was next to the top of the bed.

Kurt crawled to the center of the bed, lying down with a contented sigh. No, he still didn't know what Blaine wanted, but he honestly didn't feel a need to be worried about it. He knew what Blaine was doing now. He decided to just close his eyes and deal with the consequences. He felt the mattress dip besides him a few seconds later. He opened one eye lazily to see Blaine sitting beside him, holding a damp washcloth. He begrudgingly sat up, letting the older teen run the rag over his face, removing the traces of concealer.

"Fuck," Blaine swore softly under his breath as he took in the nearly black bruises on the countertenor's face. "Who did this to you?" Blaine felt tears sting at his eyes as he stared at the marks, swearing vengeance on whoever has caused them.

The sight of Blaine's eyes filling with tears tripped Kurt like a switch. He ended up in Blaine's lap, sobbing his heart out as he explained what had happened. Blaine's arms wrapped protectively around the younger teen, hugging him tightly as he cried, a few of his own tears escaping. Blaine didn't have anything to say. He couldn't preach 'courage' in this situation. He hadn't even ever experienced something remotely close to what Kurt was going through. All he could do was cling to the boy who was on the verge of breaking and hope for the best.