Author's note: I'll keep this fic going for as long as I'm able to, tho grad school is really kicking my butt. We'll see~

Also, I'm sorry that I'm keeping Carol chained to the kitchen in this fic. Bad feminist! But anyway, enjoy. Let me know what you think.

It was very late in the afternoon when Kurt came out of his room, thinking he'd make himself a nice cup of tea and return to his pile of homework he'd been hiding under all day.

After playing driver for Puck he'd turned his phone on silent and chucked it face-down onto his bed so he wouldn't be bothered by, well, Rachel and her insistence that they practice.

He was just… so tired.

Feeling raw and like he was living with his nerves exposed was one thing, but having to deal with his well-meaning, yet smothering friends? Kurt didn't have the energy. He was barely able to keep himself afloat.

On his way to the kitchen Finn shot him a sideway glance from the couch, but didn't pause his video game to interact with him. As far as things were progressing, Finn shaped up to be his favorite friend-slash-brother. The quarterback seemed to understand what Kurt needed, and didn't hesitate to give it to him. It was a new sensation for him, being on the receiving end of somebody's consideration, and for a moment he thought that he could get used to this.

His thoughts lingering on a certain boy in the living room, he entered the kitchen and almost collided with Carole.

"Careful," she said with laughter in her voice, dropping one hand onto his shoulder to keep him in place while she maneuvered around him.

He smiled weakly and proceeded to the kettle, plugging it in, before filling it with water. Instead of chatting, like he usually did whenever he happened across his stepmom, his entire focus remained on his task: opening the overhead cupboard to get his favorite mug, grabbing a ginger and lemon flavored tea bag and waiting impatiently for the water to boil.

In hindsight he should have made more of an effort to fool Carole, no matter that the current state of affairs (ha! pun so not intended) would have come out eventually anyway.

"You okay?" the woman asked, maternal concern rolling off of her in waves, "You're a little quiet."

He chanced a glance over his shoulder.

"And pale," she added. "Are you getting sick, honey?"

He shook his head and sighed.

"Blaine and I broke up."

Well, he thought in the privacy of his own mind, I broke up with him.

The kettle shut off when it was done, granting him a short-lived reprieve as he poured the boiling water into his waiting mug.

When Carole finally spoke, she surprised him with her sensitivity. Maybe it was a Hudson thing, being aware of other people's emotions like that. There was no "tell me what happened" or "are you okay?", nothing that would prompt him to gloss over his feelings, or withdraw into his shell. No greedy demand for details that he would end up dodging.

"Do you want to talk about it?"

Kurt had no idea. Did he want to talk about it? Not really. In the end he decided to give her some insight, hoping it would let him be a recluse for the unforeseen future. If he told her, he wouldn't have to pretend he was happy, did he? And Carole wasn't like Rachel, wouldn't use the information against him, or try to help him in a way that benefited Rachel's worldview more than it did his own.

So he shrugged and bit the bullet.

"He cheated on me because I wouldn't sleep with him."

There. That would have to be enough.

"Oh, honey."

To her credit she didn't try to hug him. She squeezed his shoulder lightly and crowded a little closer, and that was about the only physical comfort he could take right now. When he thought about what an ideal relationship would look like to him, he always imagined lazy afternoons spend cuddling, just being in each other's personal space while reading, or watching TV, leaning into each other, absentmindedly stroking the back of the other's hand. He imagined falling asleep every night curled around each other, Kurt's head pillowed on a warm chest, strong arm holding him close, he thought about simply resting in another's embrace, mind drifting as he just breathed, in and out, comfortably warm, and enjoyed being physically close to somebody, save from the world outside. A primal part of him craved this sort of physical reassurance, especially in his weakest moments, when intellectual compatibility didn't seem to matter, but right now? Feeling as if somebody had rubbed sandpaper all over his skin and left him bleeding? He couldn't take the thought of being touched by anyone.

He had been quiet for too long, and it was no surprise when Carole's voice pulled him back into the present moment.

"Have you told your dad?"

Mute, he shook his head.

"No, I guess not. We would have all noticed him marching around like a mad bull," she commented, amused fondness crinkling the lines around her eyes.

He snorted. Yes, his dad would have been very vocal about his anger, loudly discussing what he wanted to do to the person who'd hurt his son, face one giant thundercloud. Kurt didn't look forward to telling him about it.

"Do you want me to tell him?"

This offer took Kurt by surprise.

"I...," he began, unsure how to finish, "you would?"

People generally didn't offer to fight his battles for him.

"Of course," she said, "and I'd even let you eat your dinner in your room if you wanted."

His eyebrow climbed in disbelief.

"Just this once."

He smiled, more genuine this time, and nodded his acquiescence.

"Alright, why don't you head on upstairs and I'll bring you some dinner when it's ready?"

Somehow it was a little bit easier to breathe after their conversation.

"Thanks, Carole."

She squeezed his shoulder one more time before letting him go.

Kurt grabbed his mug and took the escape route he was offered. Maybe, he thought for the first time since Blaine had cheated on him, maybe he'd be alright after all.