WARNING: contains self-harm (not graphic) this is why it is rated M.
Please review, but be respectful, this is all based on true personal experiences.
This is not a universal idea of self-harming, each case is different.
Disclaimer: I don't own anything unfortunately.
Blaine's friends never noticed when he didn't seem like himself, never asked him if he was okay, never wondered what was going on. It wasn't that they were bad friends, it was more that he was an excellent actor. He didn't let it show when he hurt inside, he kept it to himself, he let himself rot inside, saying that each day it would get better. But it didn't. Every day he would close his bedroom door, hide himself from the world and let the smile fall from his face.
He knew he had been sloppy over the last few days, letting his emotions out when he really shouldn't have, but no one knew what was really going on. Though he guessed his friends didn't know what to look for, he'd never told them about his past. He didn't want them to look at him in disgust and turn their back on him, that would just make it worse.
It wasn't that Blaine hadn't ever tried to talk about it, because he had. He'd spent time with the councillor, a ginger woman with big brown eyes, and tried to talk to her about it. He'd stepped into her office and sat down and she'd marked out the privacy conditions of their meetings. "They are completely confidential, I will tell no one," she'd started, and hope had flickered in his eyes. "Unless of course you express a wish to hurt yourself or others, then that must be taken further and your parents must be informed."
Ah, the catch.
He'd smiled and nodded, laughing off the idea and continuing to blurt rubbish to her before he was able to leave. There was no point going back, she didn't know what he was going through and he doubted she'd understand even if she find out. He couldn't let her talk to his parents.
His parents weren't bad people, not at least in the common sense of the word, they just weren't the most accepting of people. Well, not when it came to their son anyway. They didn't mind it when other people had problems, they just wouldn't accept that their own child had them. Just like they were fine with other people being gay, but not their own son.
Blaine had never particularly identified with his parents, they didn't have much in common and he hated being in the same room with them. They could never accept him doing something fun for himself, his free time was just waiting to be taken up by little things he could do for them, like sorting some files or re-writing some notes. He hated doing it, but he couldn't say no to them, no matter how much homework he had that night, how many exams he had next morning.
Both parents had a problem with their power complex. They hated being challenged, even in the politest manner with the most valid of reasons, as they were above him and, being their child, Blaine was under their control and they could kick him out whenever they so pleased. They didn't have to do all the 'nice' things they did for him, it was out of the "goodness of their hearts". They'd never understood that respect was something you had to earn, you couldn't just demand it/
Blaine never tried to talk to this parents about anything personal, they would claim that he was attention seeking and that he should look at all of the other people who were suffering so much worse than him. That's why he was so worried when his Geography teacher, Mrs. Hasberg, had asked to talk to him after class one day.
"Blaine, sit down" she'd said and he'd sat, willing for her not to say what he thought she was going to say. He'd answered a question that lesson and when he put up his hand his sleeve had shifted slightly. "What's going on?"
He'd contemplated the question, maybe his behaviour had just been a little off that lesson and she hadn't seen anything else, he'd decided to feign ignorance.
"Nothing," he lied smoothly, smiling at her a little. Her face didn't shift and his smile faltered.
"I'm afraid I'll have to inform someone of this," she'd said, ignoring his lie. Blaine's heart had dropped to the floor and he was speechless. "and they may wish to inform your parents." Now he had words.
"No," he'd yelled. "You can't do that, they'd kill me, please, just don't..."
"It's my job," his teacher had interrupted. "Don't you think your parents would care? Don't you think they'd want to help you?"
Blaine tried not to laugh at the pure thought of the idiotic woman, thinking she knew everything about his life from one little thing. She knew nothing about his parents, they wouldn't care, they would pretend of course, up until they left the school grounds and were out of sight from prying eyes. Then they would turn on him, ask him what the hell he thought he was doing pulling some stupid attention seeking stunt like that, making them look bad.
He'd tried not to scoff at his teacher, but her next words had made it incredibly hard. "Blaine, I'm sorry but I have to tell the school. How could I live with myself if you did something irreversible and I hadn't warned them of this?"
It had taken all of his strength not to bang his head against the wall.
Why did she presume that this meant wanted to kill himself? This wasn't about wishing himself dead, it was about physically manifesting his mental pain, it made it easier for him to bear. The sharp feeling brought him back to reality when he was feeling hysterical, people didn't get talked to because they enjoyed boxing, but for him it was the same kind of stress relief. Call it masochistic if you want, but it wasn't a death wish.
"How long has this been going on?" Mrs. Hasberg had continued and Blaine saw his window out.
"Going on...?" he feigned confusion. "It only happened once, I promise." Her eyes had scrutinized his face, evidently working out whether to trust him or not.
"Would you please show me your arms?" he'd stuck out his arms, thankful that he wasn't usually so careless as to do it in such an obvious place, but he'd been even more stressed as of late. She'd examined the marks, nodding to herself in satisfaction. "Thank you," she'd whispered. "I still have to tell someone, but I doubt it will go any further than that."
He'd breathed an inward sigh of relief, it had been a close call, but he was going to be okay. The secret was still safe. He'd got up and headed towards the door and as he'd been leaving she had called to him "Try being more productive with it, write a 'I hate the world' diary or something." He'd just left, rolling his eyes.
Blaine wondered who on earth had given that women the right to instruct him on how to live his life, she wasn't a councillor, she was just some stupid geography teacher who knew nothing, apart from the effects of acid rain and the water cycle. She knew nothing about him, and nothing about his situation. Even the guidance councillor had never been in his situation, just read pamphlets about it.
No one understood and no one cared.
Except, Blaine thought of each of his friends faces, he guessed he'd never given them the chance to understand or the chance to care. They came near him and he just put up his walls and hid. Pretended to them as if nothing was happening, smiled and laughed, like they knew everything there was to know. He never withdrew from them. He kept close to hide the fact that really he was further away than they would ever know.
Blaine ripped up and bound some tissue, pressing it against the blossoming red on his stomach. The pain had cleared his head, and he could see better now.
Blaine felt his phone vibrate the floor and bent down to pick it off the floor. He stared at the screen in surprise, before opening the message.
Wes (17:13)
How have you been? I haven't heard from you in ages, just wanted to make sure everything's okay.
It was true, he hadn't seen Wes since he'd transferred to McKinley, he'd cut him off, just like he did everyone else. But Wes cared about him and Blaine had always been able to trust the other boy with anything, they'd been best friends. He looked at his phone and down at his marked body before pressing the 'call sender' button and waiting for his friend to pick up.
"..Hello?"
"Hey Wes, it's Blaine," he said, not bothering to put on the fake-happy voice.
"Oh right...I just probably check the caller ID before answering my phone," he joked, but Blaine didn't laugh. "Are you okay?"
"Could you meet me for coffee, please?" Blaine asked, ignoring Wes' question.
"Yeah, sure...where? Is everything alright?"
"No actually, I really need to talk to you."
"I can drive down if you want?"
"Thanks," he hung up and sat down, he didn't even have the energy to care about how rude he must have sounded. He took the tissues from his stomach put them in the trash, and sat on his bed, waiting for his friend to arrive.
It was a while before the doorbell rang and Blaine was grateful for one of the business trips that saw his parents out of the house for a few days, he never usually had friends in the house, for fear either them or his parents would find out something he didn't want them to know. He opened the door, and was pulled into a bone crushing hug, he winced slightly at the pressure on his stomach and thigh, but was thankful nonetheless.
"I was so worried," said Wes and Blaine just smiled weakly, pulling at his t-shirt, nervously. He led the confused boy up to his room and sat him on his bed. Wes didn't say anything, he just waited until Blaine was ready to say what he wanted to say. But Blaine didn't know what to say, he didn't know how to explain it, so instead he started to slowly remove his t-shirt.
Wes looked on at the shirtless boy in front of him, eyes searching the bumps and marks, some fresher than others, in horror. "oh...Blaine," he whispered.
"No, don't do that, don't pity me," Blaine flinched a little under his friend's gaze.
"You want to tell me why?" Blaine shook his head, he wasn't quite ready for that, he just needed someone who knew. Wes just nodded, he didn't push it any further, he understood that Blaine had done a lot just telling him.
"You can't tell anyone," said Blaine suddenly, eyes full of fear. "They can't know."
"I'm not going to tell anyone," Wes reassured him. "Listen, I get that I don't know what's going on with you and as much as I don't want you to hurt yourself like this, I need you to promise me something." Blaine looked at him in surprise, waiting for him to continue.
"I can't ask you to stop, if this is how you deal with your problems, but Blaine...please, please," he caught the other boy's eyes and held them. "You don't have to do this alone. I don't want you to promise me to stop, that's unrealistic and would push you further away, but I do want you to promise to tell me when you have..." he indicated towards his friend's stomach.
Blaine nodded, his eyes full to the brim with tears. All he'd wanted was for someone to see that he was hurting, someone to care, but what he hadn't realised was that sometimes you have to make the first step. Sometimes you have to find that someone who really cares and let down your guard, knowing you're still safe. You find that person and you spill your soul, you find that person and let them help you.
Blaine Anderson had his person, he had his friend and from day to day, with no pressure, he would tell him everything. The night that he showed Wes his secret was the last night he spent alone, the last night he felt so isolated.
Title comes from the song The Last Night by Skillet, it is in fact the song my friend played to me after I talked to her about this subject, not my usual style but I now cry every time I hear it.
The reason Blaine talked to Wes instead of Blaine was that I wanted it to be a friend not a love interest, because I know a lot of people don't have those to talk to and in these kind of fics it seems to be Kurt that he always talks to and I know that I would like to read something where it's like this. I wrote this to help me as well as to (hopefully) help others.
There are also a lot of Kurt harming fics, but I personally feel closer to Blaine, which is why it's him.
My PM inbox is always welcome to anyone who wishes to talk.
-C.