It had always been around.

There were stories on the news, and articles in the paper, and Kurt would find his dad sitting with a blank look in his eye. He'd force a smile when Kurt entered the room, but Kurt could feel the difference in the way his father looked at him, eyes lingering just a little longer, flickering around as if he was looking for something.

As Kurt grew older, and the world became crueler, his dad took extra time to let his son know how much he was loved. Burt would set aside some time every weekend, doing whatever Kurt wanted to do, whether it was baking or watching old movies. He'd ask Kurt to help out more often in the garage, and try to ask him nonchalantly how everything was going at school – if he was okay and if he has getting along with everyone. Kurt would lie, and Burt knew it. At night, when Kurt appeared to be asleep, Burt would come in and check on him, maybe give Kurt an extra blanket if it was cold.

Kurt knew his father was worried about him, but for awhile, he didn't know why. He thought it might be because of his mother's death, that Burt was afraid of losing Kurt as well. And that was partly the truth.

However, it was so much bigger and so much more difficult than that.

.

.

[ one ]

High school is brutal.

He'd been used to name-calling, teasing, and cold-shoulders in middle school, but high school is so much worse. He starts out the day with an unceremonious toss in the Dumpster, landing among discarded banana peels, cardboard boxes, and sometimes shards of glass or plastic that poke out from the bags. During the day, he's shoved hard into lockers and once, tripped down the stairs. He lands just fine, straight on his ass, and it hurts but it could have been a lot worse.

Besides the physical, high school torment is a lot more vocal.

It's also the first time the seriousness of his situation is put in perspective.

It's only the second week of school, but as Kurt rushes to second hour, a hand collides with his shoulder and he's thrown into a locker, sliding to the ground.

The football player looks back at him, cackling.

With a sigh, Kurt pulls himself up and brushes off his shirt, ignoring the pain in his ankle.

He makes it through the rest of the day without another encounter, but after school as he's walking out towards the buses, a foot comes out in front of him, and he falls forward, his palms catching the pavement and scraping along the ground.

"Go die, fag," an sneering voice says in his ear, and laughter rings around him.

In icy feeling settles itself in his chest as he straightens up and examines the bloody tatters of skin on his hands. A burning sensation flares behind his eyes and he brings his knees up to his chest, hugging them tightly.

By now, Kurt knows what suicide is.

He knows that teenagers who get bullied, who don't feel like they belong sometimes commit it, but he never imagined himself in that position. He never imagined people telling him to do just that – to kill himself. And he never imagined wanting to.

But if this is what high school's like – sitting alone at lunch, hunched over all day through class, wishing he could just reach out and find someone to be a friend to him, but so, so afraid they'll laugh in his face or cringe in disgust and run away. Well, he's not sure how long he can handle that. It's only been a week and half of his freshman year, and he's already waiting for the day he gets to leave this town.

Burt picks Kurt up twenty minutes later, eyes migrating towards the bloody stains on Kurt's hands and knees.

He asks Kurt if he's okay, and Kurt forces a smile, telling his father that he's just fine.

.

.

[ two ]

Kurt is strong.

Suffering through life since age eight has taught him that. These past two years have been the roughest for him since his mother's death, but he's been holding on so tightly. He's kept his held high and reminded himself that he's better than all of these jokers. He's a good person and a better man than they'll all be. He has friends in glee club and an amazing family who all love him.

But sometimes it's hard.

He really hates having to pace out the day, running through a schedule just to make sure he won't run into any guys with letterman jackets on his way to class. He hates when they still manage to catch him off guard, a slushy pelting him in the face, or shoving him into a row of lockers. He spits the ice out of his mouth, hoping he sprays them, or stumbles forward, trying not to fall to the ground once again.

When teachers aren't around, he deals with the verbal: Homo! Queer! Faggot!

"Why don't you go kill yourself?"

"Go die, you fairy freak!"

Kurt closes his eyes, taking a deep breath and telling himself it's going to be okay. They're already rounding the corner. No one's here anymore. But as he pulls himself off the ground again, he lets his mind dwell on all the negative.

God, he just doesn't know why people can't cut him slack for once. He's dad almost died a few weeks ago, don't they see that he has enough on his plate?

And the obvious answer is no.

Nobody sees what he's going through. Nobody notices.

Even the kids in glee. They know he gets bullied. They know Karofsky continually gives him a hard time, but they don't see just how much it's affecting him. He doesn't want to, but he's starting to feel hopeless. He's starting to think that maybe this is just how it's going to be for the rest of his life – being pushed down and stepped on, always fighting his way back to the surface and no one there to help him.

But a few days later, he's proved wrong.

He walks through the pristine and intricate halls of Dalton Academy, in awe of the atmosphere. Stepping down the spiral stairs, he watches as boys in uniform rush in the same direction, nobody glancing at him twice until he says something, and then a boy with dark hair and sparkling hazel eyes turns around, stopping abruptly.

"I'm new here," Kurt says, even though it's obvious he's not. He sticks out like a sore thumb.

"My name's Blaine," the boy replies, and in that instant, Kurt loosens up.

And when Blaine takes his hand, leading him down a hallway towards the place the so-called Warblers are performing, he feels free, alive even. Later, when Kurt pours his heart out to him, Blaine tells Kurt that he knows exactly what he's going through. He's gay and has been bullied all his life as well, and when things got bad enough, he finally came to Dalton. He gives Kurt his number with a smile and tells him to call whenever he needs.

And it's amazing, just when all seemed dark and dim, that this one boy can sweep into his life and make a world of difference.

.

.

[ three ]

With Blaine in his life, things are much easier for Kurt.

He's filled with so much more hope and happiness, thinking about the next time he'll see his boyfriend. And with Karofsky as part of the Bully Whips, things have mellowed down. He feels so strong, so courageous holding onto his boyfriend's hand, holding him close, and kissing him senseless. He feels like nothing's ever going to bring him down.

But there are still those moments.

The moments when he falls back. When doubt creeps back into his mind and those feelings of worthlessness and anxiety come back, and he holds Blaine's hand just a little tighter, looking for strength. Together, he knows nothing can touch them.

Kurt does look to Blaine for that reassurance, but the closer they get, the more Blaine's layers peel back, and the more Kurt sees to that insecure boy underneath. Looking back, the Blaine that he met on the stairs is definitely not the boy he loves today. The boy he loves today is shy and unsure of himself; he's quieter and doesn't place himself on that pedestal. Kurt looks up to him for different reasons.

Because now Kurt knows.

Kurt's there during those quiet moments, when Blaine flashes back. When his own feelings of doubt come back, and Kurt can see the pain shining in his eyes. Blaine tells him stories of his father and how he can't please him. He tells Kurt stories about his old high school before Dalton. He tells Kurt these awful things that Kurt doesn't know how to react to but simply holds Blaine tightly, telling him that it's okay now, that things are better now that they have each other.

Blaine nods, mumbling, "I know," but Kurt sees just how much everything has affected him.

Blaine is strong; he has to be or he'd have never made it as far as he has. He's overcome so much, and though he doesn't believe it, Kurt does. Kurt can see the scars life has left on Blaine; he can see the pain and the despair hiding just beneath the surface, and it amazes Kurt that Blaine's still smiling.

Of course there are times Kurt's afraid. He's afraid because Blaine is in too much pain, too much hurt written across his face. His voice is too soft, too hopeless, and it takes Kurt back to the times before they met when all Kurt wanted was to sleep and never wake up.

He grips Blaine's hand in his and tells him he's beautiful and perfect and that Kurt loves him so, so much. Blaine will try to grin, and Kurt kisses his cheek, tasting the salt left by the tears and he tries to keep quiet the sound of his heart breaking.

One night during the summer, they lay entangled in Kurt's bed, covers off and hands clasped between them. It's been a long day, and even longer week as Blaine's had three shows every day at Six Flags. His lack of sleep has only reinforced his instability of emotions.

Today, at the second show, Blaine saw one of his former bullies in the audience. He shook it off then and continued on performing, singing his heart out and deliberately not looking in that direction. But afterwards, he bolted offstage, closing himself in the greenroom bathroom and called Kurt, sobbing into the receiver. Kurt had then picked him up after his third show and brought him back to the Hummel-Hudson house where they'd curled up with a good movie and Blaine tried to cleanse his mind.

Now, however, Blaine needs to get this off of his chest.

Kurt knows the story. He knows all about Mr. Andrew Walters, and he kind of wishes he had been there today, just so he could've given Andrew a piece of his mind.

But instead, he holds Blaine now, listening to him pour his heart out in between sniffles and hiccups.

"It wa – wasn't even always the physical," Blaine croaks. "H – he just made me feel so w – worthless. And god, I just – I – I didn't even w – want to live anymore."

"Blaine," Kurt says softly, his tone warning.

"But it's t – true," Blaine says. "I'm okay now. W – with you. But Kurt, before we met – even at D – Dalton, I just felt so alone. I h – had no desire to live sometimes. Th – there was nothing good for me. Yeah, I had the Warblers, but I – I just couldn't stop thinking about everything outside of those walls and, I just – " He breaks off, finding it too hard to continue, and Kurt wraps his arms tightly around Blaine's waist. Blaine buries his face in Kurt's next, and Kurt feels him shake, crying again.

"You're okay now," Kurt says softly. "Everything's okay. I love you, Blaine."

Blaine takes a deep breath, pulling away from Kurt for just a moment to murmur, "I love you too."

It's in these moments that Kurt feels most vulnerable.

Because he knows how Blaine feels, but he's fine now. He's never thought about suicide in a serious sense, but the almost unnoticeable scars on Blaine's wrist and the lock on his medicine cabinet tell Kurt that Blaine's traveled a much different road than him.

And he's not going to let either of them step foot on that path again.

.

.

[ four ]

Kurt heaves a deep sigh as he dabs the towel over Blaine's face, across his jaw, and down his neck. The icy chunks fall away, but a good amount of blue dye stays etched into Blaine's skin. Blaine opens his eyes carefully as Kurt pulls away.

They still look irritated – bloodshot and slightly puffy.

"I'm so sorry," Kurt breathes, setting down the towel on the counter.

"It's fine," Blaine assures, and he grabs Kurt's hand, giving it a squeeze.

"It's not," Kurt disagrees, shaking his head. "I don't like that you have to deal with this."

"I don't like it either," Blaine says, but shrugs. "But I'm used to it, Kurt. Life isn't exactly peachy for me anyways."

"Still," Kurt says, and he pulls away from Blaine, walking over to the kitchen table and sitting down with a huff. "If I hadn't pushed you so hard to come to McKinley, you'd still be sa- "

"Kurt," Blaine says sharply and he steps up behind him, resting his hands on Kurt's shoulders. "Don't you think for one second that this is your fault. The hockey team slushied me."

"But, at Dalton – "

"Kurt, stop," Blaine says sharply, and he leans down, pressing a kiss to the top of Kurt's head. "I'm not blaming you, and you shouldn't either. I told you – I transferred for myself. I wanted to do this."

Kurt sighs, leaning back against Blaine's abdomen.

"I just worry," he says softly.

"About what?" Blaine asks, running his hands through Kurt's hair.

"You," Kurt says.

"It's just a slushy – "

"No," Kurt says, and he twists his fingers together.

Because he's not just worried about Blaine disliking McKinely. He's not worried about Blaine just being bullied. He's worried about the effect that all of this has on Blaine. He's worried about the memories it's going to bring back the and the feelings it's going to cause Blaine to have.

"I mean – I worry about more than that," Kurt continues. "I just – sometimes I think about the stories you tell me, and Blaine, I don't – I don't want you feeling like that anymore. But the bullies – I just – "

"Kurt," Blaine says, and this time his voice sounds sad, compassionate. "Kurt, don't – don't worry about that. I'm okay."

He leans down, brushing a soft kiss to Kurt's cheek and Kurt goes quiet, still not entirely convinced.

.

.

[ five ]

Tears are already falling down Kurt's face, and he's not even leaving for New York until the morning.

He's sitting with Blaine out on the front porch, leaning into his side. Above them, the night is clear, stars sparkling across the navy expanse of the sky. He's really going to miss this view, clouded by the lights of the city.

Blaine looks down at him, hearing his sudden shaky intake of breath as he tries to control his crying. Blaine smiles sadly, wrapping a close arm around him.

"Oh, Kurt," he sighs. "God, now I'm going to cry."

Kurt sits up straighter, shaking his head. "No, I'm just – "

"You're crying," Blaine says.

And Kurt nods, taking another shaky breath and wiping his eyes. He throws his arms around Blaine's neck, hugging him close and burying his face in Blaine's neck for a second.

"A year," he sighs. "I'm not going to see you for a year."

"Nine months," Blaine corrects with a smirk. "And you'll be home for Thanksgiving, Christmas, Easter – "

Kurt tries to smile, but heaves a heavier sigh, laying his head back down on Blaine's shoulder. "I know," he sighs. "But I still don't want to leave you. I'm going to miss you so much, Blaine."

"I'm going to miss you too," Blaine replies, rubbing his hand up and down on Kurt's back. "But you'll be fine, and so will I."

"Will you?" Kurt asks, looking at him, his eyebrows dipping in worry.

It takes Blaine a second to realize what he's saying, but when he does, he rolls his eyes. "Kurt, we've gone through this. I don't think about taking my life anymore. I'm okay now."

"That's what you said last time," Kurt points out. "But then – "

"Then my dad fucked everything up," Blaine says. "But a few days time, and I got over it."

"You didn't," Kurt says, and he reaches up, laying his hand on Blaine's cheek. "I can still see that you're in pain, Blaine."

"But it's manageable," Blaine says with a sigh. "I told you – I have too many things to live for."

"But not me," Kurt says, and his voice goes down into a whisper. "That's why I'm worried. I'll be gone for months, and you'll be alone. You'll be at McKinley by yourself with the hockey team, and – "

"And I won't be alone," Blaine says. "I have Artie and Tina. I'll be okay."

Kurt chews on his cheek and Blaine shakes his head.

"You worry too much," Blaine says, and he covers Kurt's hand with his. "I'm so much better than you think now. Nothing bad is going to happen to me. It's me that should be worrying about you." He closes his eye for a second, just breathing Kurt in. "College is a lot of work, Kurt - don't let me get in the way. I promise I'll be waiting for you as soon as you get back."

Kurt smiles, letting out the breath he hadn't realized he was holding in.

"I just guess – in this society, it's kind of a second nature for me to worry about this," he says.

"I know," Blaine replies. "But I'm not fifteen anymore, Kurt. I've grown up and I've taken care of myself, and so have you. As long as we have each other, we're going to be alright."

Kurt smiles, nodding his agreement, and with his arms still around Blaine, closes his eyes, his breath falling back into an easy rhythm.

.

.

It's always been around.

Wherever Kurt goes, the thoughts and ideas seem to haunt him. Kurt hears stories in the news and reads them in the paper, and even though he feels a stab of remorse for the people affected, he finds himself smiling sadly, eyes flickering to where Blaine rests on the couch, a book in his lap.

It makes him feel a little better knowing that at least two more people have beaten that option.

A/N: Ever since the line "Your glee club saved my kid's life," everyone's been speculating. So here's my contribution.