This is basically fast-food fanfiction. It's angsty and fast paced and not wonderfully well written (although in my opinion it gets better in the second half). Basically, if you want a quick fix of hurt Blaine then read, cry, scoff at my inadequate writing skills and move on.

I don't own anything. Literally. I'm homeless.

Thank you for reading.

The sun bleached autumn leaves crunched cheerfully under Blaine's feet. A cold wind ruffled through his gelled down hair and he let out a sigh of happiness.

Today was his first step towards his new life. The life he'd been wanting for so long, and the one that, although Dalton gave partly, would only be complete when he was with Kurt.

The tree's whispered softly above his head as he approached the school gates. William McKinley High, the sign read, it's once gleaming paint peeling at the edges from many years of exposure to the wind and rain.

"Here I come Kurt." Blaine whispered, his heart beating slightly faster at the sight of the hundreds of students milling around in the playground. It had been a while since he had entered a public school as a student and he knew that as soon as he set foot in the building he was a target; someone to bully, to hate.

Stop it. He told himself, taking another gulp of fresh September air. It's going to be fine. You're with Kurt, things are different. He lifted his head high and sauntered into the school, his eyes surveying the corridors, searching for Kurt and his friends.

"Hey Gorgeous!" he smiled, hugging Kurt from behind. "Hey Rachel." Kurt turned, the happiness in his eyes quickly morphing into playful disgust.

"Eugh! What are you wearing!" pushing Blaine slightly away he surveyed his outfit.

"You don't like it?" Blaine answered back, a heavy hint of mock hurt in his voice.

"Like it?" exclaimed Kurt. "It's hideous. That cardigan…" he tailed off, raising his eyebrows playfully. Blaine bought a hand to his heart and turned to Rachel.

"And what about you Rachel?" he asked, smiling at the look of 'don't get me involved' that had just materialised on her face. "Seeing as my boyfriend obviously had no taste what-so-ever, what's your opinion?"

"It's erm…", the pause was all Blaine needed.

"Oh I feel so welcome!" he exclaimed, throwing his hands into the air in protest. "Cheers guys." He grinned, hugging them both tightly as they collapsed into laughter.

"I'm so glad you're here." Kurt whispered softly in his ear.

"So am I." Blaine whispered back as they reluctantly broke apart from their hug.

"See you in French Blaine." called Rachel suddenly, grapping her bag and pulling Kurt to their first lesson.

"Bye!" Blaine shouted back. "Bye Kurt."

Turning to open his locker Blaine felt a wave of joy wash through him. It wasn't just going to be fine, it was going to be brilliant, amazing, there weren't enough adjectives in the world to describe his feelings.

"Fairy." A lone male voice made Blaine freeze. His books halfway to his bag as he slowly turned to see a large football jock turn the corner.

It's fine. He thought. It's going to happen. Seriously, doesn't everyone get the occasional insult or jibe? It's just part of high school, nothing to do with my sexuality…

Blaine knew that his reasoning didn't make sense, that he was just trying to make himself feel better and that what had just happened was very much to do with his sexuality, but he really couldn't muster up a better excuse at present. Instead, taking a deep breath and making a mental note not to tell Kurt about what just happened he headed towards his first lesson.

It was just after his first Glee club meeting. It had gone relatively well and the reaction of the other members being friendly, even welcoming. He had received a few glances from the other guys, probably worried Blaine was planning to try and get all the lead solos, but then again he could just be being paranoid.

It was Kurt's excited-ness, however, that made him most happy. Kurt acting like a puppy, swooning every time Blaine spoke. Kurt holding his hand. Kurt dancing with him when Santana had sung. Kurt hugging him before he left. It had meant so much, to know that someone loved him that wholly.

His pleasant thoughts were suddenly turned to ice as a freezing Slushie slowly dripped down his face and neck, forming a small puddle at his feet. He stood stock still as jocks laughter rang in his ears, the stares of his fellow students boring into him.

Turning abruptly to the boys bathrooms his mind slowly began to tick again. The more negative thoughts blurred as he remembered Rachel and the others in Glee club warning him that this might happen.

"It's not about your sexuality mate." Puck had said earlier. "It's the Glee club. They see you as a loser, which, lets face it, you are."

As much as this didn't really convince Blaine it gave him some comfort; it happened to loads of people.

He wiped the blue ice out his eyes and began to sort himself out, ignoring the pitying look of the brown haired boy coming out of a cubicle behind him.

No biggie.

"Fag." Blaine closed his eyes. At least it was only words. Words and slushies couldn't hurt him and no-one had actually physically touched him. At least, not yet.

Pausing to think for a second he realised that he was being stupid just letting these jocks get away with it. His years at Dalton had taught him that courage and reasoning went a long way. Deciding on the spot he turned round abruptly and called after the stocky teenager.

"Hey!" He stared in shock at the look of hatred splattered onto the jocks face.

"What is it fairy?" Blaine paused. That phrase. It didn't being back good memories.

"I was just wondering," he started politely, "if you could stop with the name calling. It's not very pleasant and maybe we can talk through your problem with me?" The jock looked surprised at Blaine's politeness, obviously expecting a snarky comment or an angry outburst. Blaine suppressed a smile. See. It always worked.

The jock paused for a minute, surveying the curly haired boy in front of him.

"Just fuck off lady. No-one wants to hear your faggy voice around this school, me most of all. OK?" He went to walk away, double took and shoved Blaine forcefully into his locker. The loud bang making a snogging couple standing a few feet away to jump apart with shock.

Blaine sighed. It was fine. Reasoning hadn't worked so next time he'll just ignore them. Dusting himself off he felt his back. Not too sore although the hard metal had probably left some bruising…

"Hey, Blaine." Finn had suddenly sided up next to him. Blaine surveyed him cautiously. Had he seen what had just happened? He didn't want Kurt to know and start worrying and fretting.

"Are you OK?" Blaine sighed, inwardly this time. OK, so he had seen.

"Yeah." Blaine smiled. "It's fine, seriously, he didn't really do anything." his fake nonchalance started to turn to real confidence. Finn, however, was not convinced.

"Are you sure? Because maybe…"

"No." Blaine cut him off sharply, a look of shock painted itself on Finn's face. Blaine was normally so polite. "Honestly Finn, this is not a problem… But thanks." he added as an afterthought, turning to get some more books out his locker. Finn turned away unsure and started to walk down the busy corridor occasionally looking back over his shoulder.

"Oh, and Finn." Blaine called, . "Don't tell Kurt."

Blaine had spent the previous night in the pleasant company of Kurt, planning various unrealistic extravaganzas for his birthday next week.

"We could get Madonna to sing!" Kurt had cried, his eyes wide with wonder at the prospect. Blaine had suppressed a laugh with difficultly.

"Sure. Lets just get that 6 million dollars you've been saving up for a special occasion out the bank." A sarky comment. One thing Blaine was good at. Kurt however just made a face and turned away, searching round his room for any inspiration for less costly ideas. Blaine watched him happily, admiring his features that were now screwed up in concentration. It was evenings like these that made Blaine happiest.

A sharp tap on his shoulder forced him to stop his revere and tense up.

"Hey, dude. It's only me!" Blaine turned to see Finn looking down upon him, his eyes filled with worry.

"Yeah, I…" Blaine tailed off, his excuse for why he had acted so jumpy dying on his lips as he spotted a crowd of people gathering at the other end of the hallway.

"Hey, what's going on over there? Blaine dodged past Finns feeble attempt to stop him from travelling any further down the corridor and broke into a run. Panic building up inside of him.

That was where his locker was.

Why was there a crowd of people standing round his locker?

What would people be doing round his locker when they had class to go to?

Why had Finn tried to stop him from seeing his locker?

Why were the people in the crowd now turning to him and laughing?

Blaine skidded to a holt and pushed his way through the crowd, making sure Kurt was no where to be seen. His heart stopped.

Posters, tens of then, plastered roughly across his, and several other lockers, Each and every one showing his face photoshopped onto the body of a fairy, The word 'FAG' printed in dark ugly letters, staring sickingly at him, a black flag to wave above his head.

Why would someone do this? Was he really such an awful person, really so unlikeable that someone would hate him this much? Surely it couldn't just be about his sexuality. It couldn't be. There must be something else…

Finally gaining some control over his limbs Blaine slowly pushed his way through the thinning crowd and began to untac the posters from the wall, ignoring the occasional crude remarks from his fellow classmates. All the energy had drained out of him. The brave façade he had felt the need to put on on his first day was becoming harder and harder to maintain. It was just like his old school. It began slowly, once they found out it was just the occasional jibe or light shove, maybe two. But then things get serious and after months of bullying you suddenly find yourself in hospital. After being beaten up at the Sadie Hawkins dance…

"Just ignore them." Finn was by his side, helping him to tear down the posters. "They'll get bored eventually."

Blaine looked up at him reproachfully. He was glad Finn was helping him, trying to be nice, but he was shocked ay his ignorance. It was a long, long, time before they would get bored. The amount of things they could do to a fag like him? He didn't even want to start counting.

A dead weight pressed down on his stomach, sucking all the good thoughts he once had into it's deep black hole. The corridor turned fuzzy and all he could hear was the ragged noise of the posters being ripped by his shaking fingers.

"Yeah." he finally said as he turned to face Finn, reality soaking him like a long overdue rainstorm in the midst of an Indian summer.

"Yeah, I'm sure they will."

Three minutes to five. Around him the glee club was in uproar, the piercing shouts and muddled burst of songs interrupting Friday's sluggish drag.

"Happy Birthday to you…"

"We're gonna party like it's your birthday…"

Blaine sat, proudly holding onto Kurt arm as the other members exhaled birthday jubilations to Kurt.

"See you in an hour birthday boy!" People were leaving, excited to get ready for the Britney Bonanza that was due to start at six; a Britney Spears themed celebration followed by a 'slumber party' for Blaine afterwards.

"I'll see you in an hour, OK?" Blaine called out to Kurt as he turned the street corner, waving happily. All he needed was to pick up Kurt's present from his home, have a shower and put on some flashier clothes.

It was just starting to get dark and long shadows cast themselves across the pavement, the last hint of the low winter sun slowly disappearing over the horizon. Taking a shortcut across the deserted green Blaine couldn't help but keep the pleasant thoughts in his head, whistling a soft tune as he strolled confidently along, not even noticing the three stocky shadows that were waiting in the middle of the large grass field…

It wasn't until he felt his hands thrust painfully backwards, restricting his movements that he realised just how stupid he had been. Fear pulsated through his veins.

"Had a good day Blaine?" the large face of a football jock appeared only inches from his own. Blaine winced at the use of his name, the low tones in which it was said scaring him only further.

He quickly took in his surroundings. It was dark, there were three of them and he had no chance of getting away, especially not with his hands held tight behind his back. It was hopeless. Blaine's knees buckled a bit as his mind raced desperately for a solution to the situation, knowing full well there was none. He struggled anyway, not knowing what else to do, but this only caused the boy to tighten his grip, fingers digging painfully into his wrists.

"Answer me fag! Did you have a good day!" A rush of pain swept through his nose as the force of the punch sent him flying backwards. His mouth filled with blood as he gasped, struggling to get his breath back.

They were like cats, bored yet full, they had caught their mouse. It wasn't necessary but they still wanted to play, relishing it's suffering. Once done they would go off and find something else to occupy themselves with, not caring whether the mouse was dead or alive.

He was their prey and he knew the best thing was just to let them get on with it. Do it and let him go as soon as possible.

"F…f…fine." he stammered, internally kicking himself for how weak and fragile he sounded.

"Only fine?" The larger one snarled, the playful tone in his voice only adding to the fear slowly but surely mounting in Blaine.

"How about we make it even better?" He reached into his pocket, taking out a can and slowly starting to shake it, never breaking eye-contact with the small boy in front of him. Eyeing it apprehensively Blaine decided he didn't want to know what was in it, instead shutting his eyes, screwing his face up, waiting, bracing himself for what was about to come. It was the dance. Middle school all over again. He had thought he'd moved on. He had been so happy at Dalton. Safe. Confident. Normal…

Blaine snapped his eyes open faster than he had ever done before. It was a cold winter night even with his coat on but it's removal sent cold chill waves rippling through his skin, not as much from the freezing wind but the shock and dread at what was happening.

"You enjoying this Anderson?" the jock softly whispered in his ear, simultaneously ripping Blaine's shirt off, sending buttons flying off in all directions. Blaine shut his eyes once more, taking a deep shaky breath, finally realising what was in the can.

He let them man-handle him, roughly removing his clothes, stripping him to his boxers. He let his mind go blank, not knowing how many minutes had past, the feel of the gooey paint on his skin making him squirm uncomfortably but he didn't even care what they were writing any more. All his efforts were going into not crying, not breaking down. He couldn't. It would ruin everything . He had to stay strong. He had to. He had to.

The cold air and occasional kicks and punches combined until all he could feel was pain. His hearing went fuzzy. Sometimes he caught the odd phrase:-

"Why don't you just kill yourself fag." and he felt himself drifting into his own thoughts. Each one dripping itself over his brain, smothering it. He was gay. This is all his fault. It was his choice and it was a stupid one. He was selfish and all it had left to was hurt. His fathers disappointment, his mothers worry, his life being a misery. Hurt and pain and… and Kurt. Wonderful, beautiful Kurt. The love of his life. The Kurt who was, at this minute, getting ready for a birthday party. Ecstatic, oblivious to what was happening to his boyfriend.

Kurt. Kurt, Kurt, Kurt.

Blaine said it over and over in his head. The punch to his stomach sent him doubling over in pain, his knees giving way, yet still he repeated his boyfriends name. Like a mantra, over and over, louder and louder until he was practically saying it out loud.

Kurt. Kurt. Kurt. Kurt.

He lay on the ground, hands cowering over his head, memories flooding back, drowning him. He felt constricted, like all the breath had left him. He was chocking. He couldn't breath, he couldn't move.

Just do it, he thought. Knock me out and then I don't care. Then I won't feel it any more.

But nothing came. The treacle like silence stabbing at the cuts and bruises all over his body. He slowly bought his hand down, each inch of movement causing more pain to shoot through his body. In the distance three figures could be seen , the empty paint can was lying next to his feet, his clothes had been scattered around the field. He closed his eyes once more before gathering every last ounce of courage and dignity left inside of him and started to gather the garments blowing softly around the field. Pulling them on as best as the rips allowed he didn't even try to read what they had written on him, the faint ringing of distant laughter reaching his ears, seeping into his pores, crashing into his heart like an iceberg ready to sink the titanic.

He didn't know what time it was when he reached Kurt's house, nor how exactly he had got there. But the faint pulse of music told him the party was in full swing. Outside the front door he paused, leaning against the frame to try and steady his breathing. Calm the panic inside him, the fear mixed with pain and burning from the paint that caused tears to suddenly mingle with the dried blood already on his cheeks.

No. He whispered, wiping them hastily away. Courage.

Courage.

However he knew that there was no courage left inside of him. All he wanted was Kurt. He no longer cared about protecting him, making sure he only saw Blaine as the invincible hero. Strong and brave. It was all a lie. A façade that Kurt was about to see, not just cracked, but broken and empty, lying around Blaine in millions of pieces.

All he wanted was for Kurt to hold him. Explain how everything is going to be fine, because from where he was standing everything seemed as though it would never be fine again.

He heard the muffled shout before the door opened.

"Guys I think Blaine here!" a scuffle of shoes and Kurt's reply.

"About time. I was beginning to think he had found a better party to go to," and then the drawing of the curtain and the twisting of a key.

"BLAINE! Where were you dude, we've already eaten half the-" Mercedes stopped, her hand slamming to her mouth.

"Blaine," she whispered, trying to take in the small boy that stood, trembling, in front of her. Black eye, blood covered face, ripped clothes, something black and sticky clearly hidden underneath them, wheezy breath, and his eyes. She had never in a million years expected such eyes from Kurt's happy, confident boyfriend. There was something broken about them. The previously sparkling glint replaced by a dull grey.

"My god Blaine. Blaine!" her voice now raised to a shout. "Guys, come and help. HELP. QUICKLY!" The sudden confused lull of conversation and rush of bodies made Blaine shake his head in desperation. This was such a stupid idea. What was he thinking. It was one thing Kurt and Finn finally seeing him broken and weak. But the whole of the glee club?

The emotions that he had pushed down thus far slowly began to bubble up towards his head. The looks and gasps were ten times worse when they actually came then he had imagined.

"Blaine, oh my god. Oh my god." Rachel burst into tears and Blaine began to back away slowly.

"Oh Jesus, no."

"Mate…" Finns look of horror barely registered as he spotted Kurt, frozen, hand to his mouth, face as white as porcelain. Brown met green as they started at each other, seconds ticking by, the sentence that had partially formed on Blaine's lips dissolving into the ragged breath that was still leaving his throat.

He was about to leave. About to run and never look back. He would transfer. He would let them all get on with their lives happily. Kurt didn't want him. He was a screw up. No-one wanted something like him. He jumped back, ripping his eyes from Kurt's tear filled ones. Light suddenly flooded his vision and paralysed his limbs as a car pulled slowly up behind him. Burt and Carol? But… why, they were meant to be at a meal, in a restaurant? But now they would see him too. Now everyone would know and everyone would want nothing to do with him anymore. Like his father when he had seen how he had let himself been beaten up after the dance. They would pretend to like him but their eyes. That's how you can tell. The look in their eyes would never be the same again.

He stumbled forward, nausea engulfing him, the panic rising. There was nowhere to go, he was trapped. Voices were swarming him.

Generic ones.

"Blaine. Blaine listen, you have to get inside."

"What's on his shirt. Shit. What sick bastard would do that?"

"What's wrong with him? Why is he acting like that?"

Finn ones.

"Oh god. I knew this was going to happen. I knew it."

"It's all my fault."

Burt ones.

"What's just happened? What's wrong with Blaine. Kurt. Is everything alright?"

"Kurt?"

And Kurt ones.

"Honey. Blaine. Blaine. Blaine. BLAINE!"

The final utterance of his name zipped though the air and pierced his soul. He snapped his head up to meet his boyfriends gaze. Why was Kurt trying to talk to him. Kurt hated him. Kurt thought he was weak and pathetic.

But now he was walking towards him, arms outstretched and face filled with worry not dread. Why? Even Blaine wouldn't want to be near himself and yet…

His thoughts were cut off as he felt Kurt's gentle hand clasp his own. Squeezing, not too tightly but enough to calm the anxiety that had made him act like the idiot he knew he had just acted like. He had made it ten times worse. Oh god.

"It's OK Blaine." Came Kurt's gentle whisper. Blaine glanced up at the others. The glee club, Burt, Carole, all looking down upon him, their looks of pity echoing his helplessness.

"I'm so sorry." was all he could muster. "I'm so so sorry."

And then he broke down.

Kurt let him shake uncontrollably in his arms, the cold wind whipping round them like it had on Blaine only a few hours earlier, but this time it was comforting. It took away the pain instead of heightening it.

"It's OK Blaine. Shh, don't worry. Don't be sorry. I'm here. We're all here and it's going to be fine. It's over. Everything's going to be fine." Blaine sobbed, pulling his boyfriend closer, smelling the familiar perfume he wore everyday to school, inhaling it deeply as occasional whimpers escaped between his hitched gasps.

"It's all going to be fine." he echoed, the whisper, although quiet and stuttery somehow magnifying around him.

Suddenly everything melted away. It was just him and Kurt. His vision blurred as his sobs slowly began to subside, and, in the warm comforting arms of his boyfriend, and perhaps from the pain or the stress or even just because everything had made him so very very tired, Blaine Anderson passed out.