Word Count: 4,220

Warnings: Talk of abuse and homophobia. Terrible, terrible Andersons with helping Kurt, protective Burt, and lots of blangst

A/N: Sorry this took so long, anon. I wrote most of it like the day I got the prompt and then I just kind of… forgot about it I guess, lost inspiration. But here it is now, I hope you like it.

One of Kurt's favorite things about Blaine was how put together he was. He loved how his hair was always perfectly gelled and his Dalton uniform was always perfectly pressed, never even a hint of a wrinkle. His dorm room was immaculate and he had the best posture Kurt had ever witnessed.

And this was just how Blaine always was. This was how everyone saw him. How Kurt always saw him.

The first time Kurt saw a crack it was when he caught sight of a nasty looking scar on his upper arm when he took off his blazer and rolled up his sleeves during Warbler practice. Kurt probably shouldn't have asked, but he had never been incredibly tactful and he was still trying to get to know Blaine, so he did. Blaine shrugged it off, saying it was from a car accident he's been in when he was younger, but then he didn't show up at dinner that night and he was jumpy the next day. Kurt didn't press, but it did worry him.

The next crack in Blaine's perfect mask was right after Christmas break. He was very quiet and subdued when they returned, barely speaking in any of his classes and only joining into the conversations at meals when someone else asked him a direct question. He just seemed to drift from place to place, never really paying attention to where he was going. But then, after a couple of weeks, the old Blaine was back with brand new ideas for regionals, ready to lead them on to another win.

No one else mentioned Blaine's mood swings so Kurt didn't either. He still really liked Blaine, and he thought they were friends, maybe even best friends, but that didn't mean he knew how much he was allowed to push.

After that, everything stayed the same. Blaine was normal, dapper Blaine, always smiling and supportive of anyone else's problems. Kurt moved on and forgot about the moments when Blaine wasn't perfect.

Until Kurt saw a person who looked very much like Blaine couldn't possibly be him at the grocery story over a long weekend. His hair was a mess and he was in ripped jeans and a stained T-shirt, hunched over and flinching at every movement or noise. He was holding a bottle of burn cream and winced as his right hip brushed up against the checkout counter.

Kurt was frozen in shock when completely un-dapper Blaine looked over and saw him. His breath caught and he grabbed the bag from the cashier, booking it out of the store. Kurt stood there for a couple more minutes until Finn came up behind him with his arms full of Doritos and frozen pizzas and nudged him toward the checkout.

Kurt couldn't get the image of that boy out of his head and he kept trying to convince himself that it was not Blaine. Blaine was perfect and poised and he wasn't scared of anything. That boy had look like he was ready to slip into a panic attack at any moment and it reminded him of those few weeks after Christmas. He was terrified and he didn't know what to do. Blaine was in trouble, but he clearly wasn't going to ask for help.

Kurt tried to ignore the way his heart clenched painfully when Blaine wasn't at breakfast on Tuesday morning. He tried to ignore the fear and dread pulsing through his veins when he didn't see him in any of their passing periods, or during their free period that they always spent together in the library.

Something was wrong.

Something was very, very wrong.

Kurt breathed a sigh of relief when he stepped into the mess hall for dinner and Blaine was sitting in between Wes and Nick at the normal Warbler table. Normal Blaine looking absolutely gorgeous with the way the blazer tapered around his hips and the tie tied in a perfect Eldredge knot.

Part of Kurt wanted to scream at Blaine for worrying him sick but then he realized that there was a possibility that it wasn't Blaine at the store on Saturday and so Blaine would have no idea why he was angry. So Kurt just ate, glad to see his friend was okay and decided he would just ignore this like everything else.

Until they were walking back to Blaine's room to work on a Chemistry project together and their hips accidentally bumped. Blaine hissed, jumping to the side a little bit and squeezing his eyes shut against the pain.

"Blaine?" Kurt asked, reaching out to him but Blaine flinched away, cowering into the wall. He looked up at Kurt with tear filled eyes, looking so tiny that Kurt froze for a minute. Blaine shook his head minutely, shoving away from the wall and fleeing from Kurt.

Kurt didn't know what to do anymore. He wanted to ignore it still, because Blaine was perfect and if something was making Blaine want to curl into a ball and hide then how in the world was Kurt supposed to help? Blaine was the helper not the helpee.

Courage, Kurt thought, heading to Blaine's room.

He knocked lightly a few times, slowly getting louder until he finally gave up and tried the handle to find it unlocked. He opened it a crack, sliding through and shutting it quietly behind him. The room was dark and it looked as if no one was in, then he heard a small, barely audible gasp of breath coming from the beside the desk.

"Blaine?" Kurt called stepping around.

Blaine was curled into a ball under the desk, clothed only in a pair of boxers and clutching at his hair. The bottle of burn cream Kurt had seen him with at the store was on the floor next to him.

"Blaine?" Kurt asked again and Blaine shoved himself back into the wall, hiding behind his arms. He was muttering something and shaking his head but Kurt couldn't make out what he was saying.

"Blaine, honey, c'mon," Kurt dropped to his knees by the desk trying to coax Blaine's hands away from his head.

"—o —way" Blaine whimpered, battling him off.

"Blaine, please."

"Go away," Blaine said, stronger this time, peaking at Kurt over his arms.

Kurt froze for a second, "… No."

Blaine threw his head back into the wall, sniffing loudly.

"You're in no condition to be alone right now. Come out and I can help you."

Blaine looked wearily at the hand Kurt was offering him before taking it and allowing himself to be pulled out from under the desk. Kurt gasped at the bruises and scars littering Blaine's body, especially the gruesome looking blister on his right hip, partially covered by his boxers. Blaine tried to wrap his arms around his body and shrink in on himself but Kurt led him to the bed and hand him lay down on his back.

"I'm going to take care of the burn on your hip and then we're going to talk, okay?"

Blaine didn't answer, just stared at the ceiling, biting his lip. Kurt went into the bathroom to wash his hands and soaked a wash cloth with cold water. He pulled some gauze and bandage tape out of the first aid kit that was under the sink in every Dalton dorm room and headed back to the main room, collecting the burn cream from the floor as he went.

Blaine hadn't moved an inch since Kurt left but his entire body was trembling as Kurt ran a hand gently over one of the dark bruises on his stomach. Kurt just stared at him for a minute, noting how he could count every single one of his ribs and how a few of them looked crooked or broken. Blaine whined as Kurt pressed against one of the deformed ribs, a broken sob escaping his throat before he could bite it back.

"Blaine… I need to take you to the hospital, I can't take care of those," Kurt whispered.

Blaine's eyes shot to him in terror as he shook his head quickly. "N-no… Kurt, please."

"Blaine…" Kurt started to argue.

"Please."

Kurt looked away for a minute. Blaine needed a doctor, but Kurt could see how much that terrified him and he couldn't bear to make Blaine scared of him by forcing him into this…

"Okay," Kurt swallowed thickly, "I'll go get some ice for those later and I have some pain meds back in my room from when I broke my wrist last year. Are you allergic to anything?"

Blaine shook his head before returning his eyes to the ceiling.

Kurt took a deep breath before gently pulling down the edge of Blaine's boxers so he could get to the entire burn. Blaine stiffened for a split second before going entirely lax. Kurt looked up to see tears streaming from Blaine's now closed eyes as he sucked in a few breaths.

Kurt was trying to get the waistband to stay down on Blaine's leg so he could treat the burn without having to actually take them off but it kept snapping back up to Blaine's hip making him whimper every time it hit the blister. Kurt stepped back, frustrated with the clothing's lack of help in his situation.

"I'll be right back," He said, patting Blaine's leg as he ran to the bathroom to grab a big plush towel. "Blaine, I need to take your boxers off—" Blaine lifted his hips before Kurt even finished. Kurt froze for a minute before sliding them off of Blaine's legs and swiftly covering him with the towel.

Blaine looked at him questioningly but didn't say anything as Kurt pressed the cold washcloth to the blister, gently wiping around the burn. He applied the ointment before cutting strips of the gauze to tape over the blister. It was the best he could do right now and he hoped it was enough.

"Blaine?" Kurt said, carding his fingers through Blaine's curls, almost completely free from their gel confine by now. Blaine blinked slowly up at him, seeming confused as to why he was here. "Does anything else hurt other than your hip and ribs?"

Blaine shook his head slowly.

"Good, that's very good. Do you need some help getting dressed?"

Blaine shook his head again, wincing as he sat up.

"Okay, I want you to get dressed and then lay back down. I'm going to go get the pain meds and some ice for your ribs, okay?"

"Y-yes," Blaine said.

"Everything's going to be okay, Blaine," Kurt tried to be reassuring, but the adrenaline was wearing off and leaving him shaky and scared. Kurt forced the biggest smile he could, wanting to cry at how Blaine didn't even attempt to return it, before leaving the room.

About halfway to his dorm he leaned against the wall, unable to catch his breath. He didn't know what to do. God, Blaine looked so messed up, all those bruises… how had he been making it through Warbler practices? Some of those bruises were at least a couple of weeks old and his ribs had been broken long enough ago to heal back wrong…

Kurt took a deep, shuddering breath, pulling his phone from his pocket. Blaine may hate him for this, but he couldn't do this on his own.

"Daddy…"

—

Kurt sat up against the headboard with Blaine's head in his lap as he stroked his curls. Carole had told him that those pain meds of his would be good until she could get there and they should make him drowsy. Blaine's skittishness from before seemed to have gone and been replaced by an intense need to be held. He'd curled up next to Kurt on the bed, his arms wrapping tightly around Kurt's waist like a vice.

Blaine whimpered in his sleep, burying his face in Kurt's stomach and trying to scoot closer to him, pushing Kurt dangerously close to the edge of the bed. Kurt tried to push Blaine back a little and get closer to the middle but Blaine wouldn't budge, just nuzzling further into Kurt. Kurt hoped Carole and his dad got there soon, because if Blaine kept this up they were both going to end up on the floor..

Blaine let out a particularly loud sob and his entire body jolted just as the door opened to reveal Carole and a very angry looking Burt

Blaine started to pull away from Kurt and for a second he thought he was awake, but then he saw his eyes were closed as he shook his head back and forth, muttering something Kurt couldn't understand.

Kurt glanced at the adults watching them closely before grabbing Blaine's shoulders to stop him from moving. "Blaine, sweetie?"

"Sorry, s-sorry," he whimpered, "d-did-didn't… sorry."

"Blaine," Kurt shook him a little and Blaine's eyes slowly blinked open to stare up at him.

"Kurt," Blaine breathed out, launching himself into his arms and clutching at his back, his hands fisting in Kurt's dress shirt.

Kurt looked up at the adults again as he drew soothing circles into Blaine's back. He raised a questioning eyebrow at them, not sure of what he should be doing.

Burt looked to Carole who approached the bed slowly.

"Blaine," Kurt whispered in his ear, "can you lay down for me?" Blaine shook his head vigorously.

"I'll be right here the entire time, I'll even hold your hand, but Carole needs to look at your ribs."

Blaine stiffened at the mention of another person. He slowly turned toward Carole, his back straightening almost robotically, his chin lifting up and suddenly he was back to being perfectly dapper Blaine, save for the tear tracks on his face and the mop of curls frizzing on top of his head.

"Hello, Mrs. Hummel. It's lovely to see you again. Mr. Hummel," Blaine smiled his brilliant smile and Kurt had to fight to keep his jaw from dropping open in shock.

Luckily, no one believed the mask for a second, but Kurt couldn't help but be astonished at how quickly Blaine could go back into it. Burt and Carole seemed a bit shell-shocked as well and no one spoke for a couple of minutes.

"Blaine…" Carole finally said, "can I look at your ribs, honey?"

Blaine's arms tensed as he fought to not wrap them around himself. "Why?"

"Kurt said it looked like some of them were broken, if we don't take care of them they could heal wrong or cause more damage. Please let me look, sweetheart."

Blaine smiled again, his face never faltering, "Oh that, that's nothing. My ribs have always been a bit strange. They've been messed up ever since I was a child. It's really nothing."

"Blaine," Kurt said, putting his hand on his shoulder. Blaine turned to look at him, raising his eyebrows imploringly but there was the slightest hint of desperations in Blaine's eyes that he wasn't able to hide from Kurt. "It's okay. You don't have to hide it anymore. We can help you."

"Help me with what, Kurt?" There was no bitter edge to Blaine's voice. Only a genuine curiosity. Kurt wasn't sure if Blaine was just that good of an actor or if he actually didn't understand what Kurt could do.

"We can keep you away from your parents, or whoever is doing this," Burt spoke up. "You can stay here permanently, or go home with us on weekends and holidays. You'll be safe, protected."

Blaine blinked at him, his breath hitching a little as the mask slipped. A way out? Was there really a way for him to be safe?

"I don't…" Blaine cleared his throat, "I don't know what you're saying, Mr. Hummel. My home life is perfectly—"

"Don't you dare defend them!" Burt barked. Blaine jumped, shrinking back into Kurt a little bit as the mask slipped farther away. "Don't say there is nothing wrong when we walked in on you in the middle of a break down not five minutes ago. I don't know what is going on at home, but whatever it is, it is not fine. Not when my son calls me on the phone, sobbing, because you're body is covered in bruises and you have a second degree burn on your hip and broken bones. If you brush everything off right now, you are calling my son a liar. Is that what you're saying, Blaine? That Kurt lied to us about all over that?"

Blaine was staring at Burt in shock and fear, shaking his head quickly as his face crumpled and the mask shattered again.

"Dad," Kurt hissed, pulling Blaine into his arms and glaring pointedly at his father.

"I-I-I—" Blaine hiccuped, "I d-didn't.. m-mean it li-like that. I just…" Blaine shrugged weakly, hiding in Kurt's shoulder.

Both Kurt and Carole were glaring daggers at Burt while he was watching Blaine carefully.

"Burt, that's not helping," Carole said as calmly as she could manage.

"It got him to stop hiding it," Burt defended, "everything will be easier if he admits to be abused, won't it?" Blaine flinched at the word abused, a harsh sob breaking out of his throat.

"Yes, but if Blaine is being abused by his parents, an angry father yelling at him is not going to be something he's particularly fond of."

Burt frowned at himself, "I'm sorry, Blaine. I didn't mean to yell."

Blaine nodded, "I-I'm sorry, too. Kurt's not… Kurt's…" he couldn't say the words. He couldn't say that Kurt was telling the truth because he wasn't supposed to tell anyone what his dad did to him. If he did, it'd just hurt more.

Blaine curled in on himself, wincing at the pressure he placed on his ribs. He wanted to be disappear. He'd made Kurt cry. Burt said Kurt had been crying. Because of him. Kurt should never have been crying over him, he shouldn't have been involved. He shouldn't have known. Blaine should have been better at hiding it. Kurt had problems of his own without Blaine's being piled on top of it all.

A hand touched his shoulder and he flinched away. He knew it wasn't Kurt, because both of Kurt's hands were wrapped around Blaine's waist as he tried to shrink into oblivion. Blaine didn't want anyone touching him, but at the same time he couldn't bear to pull away from Kurt.

"Blaine, sweetie?"

Blaine peaked over his arms at Carole.

"I need to check your ribs, okay?"

Blaine looked between her and Kurt for a minute. Kurt's eyes were pleading with him to let them help and he couldn't deny him. He unlaced Kurt's fingers, pulling them from around his waist and squeezing one of his hands before he pulled the T-shirt over his head and laid down on his back.

Kurt gulped but didn't say anything as he looked at the bruises again. Somehow they looked worse than before. Carole's face was kind but not pitying as she examined his stomach and chest and Burt practically growled causing Blaine to cringe and tense up.

"He's not angry at you, Blaine," Kurt said, cupping his cheek and turning his face toward him. "He's angry that this happened to you. That someone would dare hurt you. That's why he's angry and none of that is your fault, do you understand?"

Blaine blinked, tears welling in his eyes, "I… I d-didn't know what to-to do," he whimpered. "I d-don't know why he h-hated me so much. I…It's just how I am, Kurt. How is your dad di-different? Why doesn't he care?"

"Blaine…"

"He's the epitome of a manly man. He's a me-mechanic, and he loves football, and steak. Why doesn't he care? Why…" Blaine took a deep breath, "why does he still love you?"

Kurt looked over at his father who was clenching his jaw. He started to speak but Burt cut him off.

"Because that's what you're supposed to do. Kids aren't trophies to hang on the wall and say, look at how perfectly normal my kid was. Look at how I taught him to never defy society. You're supposed to encourage them to be themselves and love them the whole way, even if they make mistakes. Then you just gotta pick them up and help them stitch themselves back together. Because that's what being a parent is.

"That," Burt gestured to the bruises littering Blaine's body, "is something that makes your father not even worthy of that title. He is not your dad, he's a bastard."

Blaine sniffled, wincing slightly as Carole pressed against one of his ribs. "Most of these seemed to have healed alright on their own," she noted, "a little off, but not too bad. It would be better if we could rebreak them and set them straight," Blaine flinched, "but, that's not a necessity. As for the ones that are currently fractured, I would like to wrap your chest up, to help stabilize them a little, and I'll prescribe you a mild painkiller for you to take, and you'll need to ice them at night for the next couple of weeks. I would ask that you not dance as much and take it easy during Warbler practice, but from what I've heard from Kurt that's not going to happen." She smiled down at him, petting his hair back.

"Now for the burn, can you tell me how you got it, Blaine?" she asked sweetly.

"I-I fell on a coal."

"A coal?"

"Yeah, we went camping this weekend and we were doing some dutch oven kitchen. I tripped and fell on one of the coals…"

"You tripped, or you were pushed?" Burt pressed.

Blaine looked up at Kurt who nodded, running his thumb over the back of Blaine's knuckles.

"M-my dad… he p-p-pushed me," he hiccuped, taking a deep breath and gripping Kurt's hand tighter, "The coal hurt, but I was more scared of g-getting up. If I don't move, it's… it's not as bad." He clenched his jaw, staring at the ceiling.

"Thank you for telling us that, Blaine," Burt said, his voice surprisingly still as he tried to hold back the rage he was feeling towards Blaine's father.

"I'm proud of you," Kurt whispered. Blaine looked at him, a small smile tugging at the corners of his mouth.

"Okay," Carole said, "sadly, there's not a lot we can do for it. I have some water jel burn wraps that Burt keeps at the garage in case one of the guys burns himself while working on a car. That will help soothe and protect, and the painkillers will help with that as well, but that's all I got for you."

"That's fine," Blaine said, "Th-thank you, Carole."

"You're welcome, sweetie," she petted his curls back one more time.

Kurt helped Blaine sit up and started slipping his shirt over his head, being mindful of his numerous bruises.

"Now, we've already cleared it with Headmaster Saunders for you and Kurt to take the next couple of days off of school and come home with us, if you would like, Blaine." Burt said, and Blaine turned to him with wide eyes, "You don't have to, but frankly, kiddo, I think you deserve a break."

"I-I…" he looked back at Kurt, "would you mind?" he whispered.

"Of course not," Kurt said, "though don't be surprised when I make you spend all day tomorrow marathoning my broadway bootlegs."

Blaine laughed, "And of course we'll be singing to every one."

"Obviously, though when we watch How to Succeed, I call being Rosemary."

"I'll be Finch," Blaine said, smiling.

"So, you're coming?" Burt asked.

Blaine turned back to him, "Yes, sir, I think I am."

"Great. Kurt, help pack him a bag. Carole and I will go to your room and she will pack you a bag, because I'd probably just wrinkle everything."

Kurt laughed as his father left, sending him a wink before shutting the door.

Blaine sat on the bed as Kurt stood up and went to his closet, pulling out clothes that looked comfortable but still fashionable. He put Blaine's suitcase on top of the desk and started placing the clothes neatly inside.

"Do you think you'll need any of your text books?" Kurt said, turning to Blaine.

"How are you real?" Blaine asked quietly. "What did I do to deserve and angel like you…"

Kurt giggled, "I don't know what makes you think I'm an angel, but everything you've been through definitely makes you deserving of one." Kurt sat beside him on the bed, taking Blaine's hands in his.

"Thank you," Blaine whispered, tears shining in his eyes.

"Hey, that's what best friends are for, right?" Kurt joked.

Blaine leaned forward, knocking their foreheads together. "There's no way you're just a friend after today," he said, then he took in a deep breath and sat up straight again, "U-unless that's all you want to be, of-of course. I wasn't imply—"

Kurt threaded his fingers in the curls on the back of Blaine's neck, pulling him forward and pressing their lips together. He pulled back a little but kept his hold on Blaine's head, keeping their foreheads and noses pressed together. "Does that answer your question of what we are?" he breathed out.

Blaine smiled, looking into Kurt's eyes, "I think it does."