A/N: Hello, again! This is another story in the Falling Apart universe. This one is set directly before "Falling Apart" and goes straight up until the very beginning of the first chapter. =] Thank you to everyone who has commented on any of my stories, or on "Falling Apart" (since I put a lot into that one, too. haha) and I hope you keep reading! Again, warnings for child abuse and violence. If you or anyone you know is being abused in any way, please speak out. If you live in America you can call 1-800-4-A-CHILD. If you live in the UK, you can call 0-800-1111, or 0-808-800-500. Help break the silence and make the world a safer place.
I love you.
Blaine smiled fondly down at his phone when he opened the text from Kurt. he quickly typed out a reply.
& I love you :)
Not even a minute later, he received another reply.
I miss you. It's been a long weekend. :(
He smiled again and replied.
I miss you, too. We'll see each other tomorrow. Meet in the parking lot before class?
He could almost picture Kurt's devious grin when he read the next reply.
& what do you plan to do in the parking lot before class hm?
He smirked and sent a quick response.
I fully intend on ravishing you, good sir. ;)
Oh my. ;) Will there be kissing?
As much as you want. So long as you return the favor. Blaine's smile was indulgent, and adoring. He waited for Kurt's reply.
We'll have to see… ;)
Blaine laughed and sent one last reply.
I need to go help mom w/ dinner. ttyl?
Blaine flipped his phone closed and stuck it in his pocket, hopping up off the couch. He walked towards the kitchen where Kate was already chopping vegetables and had rice going in the pressure cooker. "Hey, BB," she said, breaking off the soft humming she'd been doing as he entered.
He smiled at his stepmother and walked up to her. He put a hand on her elbow to steady both of them as he leaned in and allowed her to kiss him on the cheek, as had become their customary greeting over the years.
He took a step back and glanced around the kitchen, running a hand through his ungelled curls and raised his eyebrows expectantly at Kate. "What do I need to do?" he asked.
"Ummmmm," she said, drawing out the word as she finished chopping up an onion. She glanced around, too. "Add the soy sauce and stuff," she said, waving a hand in the general direction of the pan. She didn't need to tell him exactly what to do-they'd made this dish dozens of times.
He nodded and went to the pantry, going up on his toes to pull down the soy sauce, teriyaki, spicy oil, and a small jar of curry powder. He went back over to the pan, which was on a burner set to low. The butter was just finishing melting, the pea sized remain of the pad Kate had used disappearing before his eyes. He poured the teriyaki in liberally, adding a little soy sauce (he'd add more as it cooked, of course). He added just a few drops of spicy oil. Then a dash of curry powder and he mixed it all up, watching the colors swirl together before turning up the heat a little and dumping the beef in the pan. He grabbed a pinch of salt from the big open jar they kept on the counter and flicked it into the mixture.
Kate and Blaine cooked dinner just in time to have it on the table when Bill got back. They were both already in good moods and it seemed Blaine's father was, too-he'd won a big case that day.
They chatted easily through their meal, sitting around the big oak table in the dining room. Blaine even laughed a few times. They were almost like a happy family.
"How's soccer been going, Blaine?" Bill asked as he took a bite of his egg roll.
Blaine finished chewing his food and swallowed. "It's been great! I scored 3 times at our last game and I dominated at practice the other night. I need to keep up my practicing, though. I've been busy with Latin and haven't gotten to do any solo training outside of practice since Tuesday," he said.
"Well, why not tonight? I'll go out with you and we can kick the ball around for a while. You can do your homework later tonight, if you have any left. You're a bright boy, you can manage," he said, his voice warm and proud of his son.
Blaine smiled and nodded, beaming at the compliment. They were so rare that he cherished each one. "Yeah."
~break~
After an hour of his dad drilling him and practicing, Blaine was sore and exhausted. He doubled over with his hands on his knees, breathing hard. He scrunched his face up and put one hand over his side. His ribs were killing him.
Broken ribs do that, he though bitterly for a moment.
Bill sauntered over to his son, soccer ball tucked neatly under his arm. "What's up BB? Got a stitch? Maybe I should tell Joe to pump up the endurance training for you boys," he said, laughing as he clapped Blaine on the shoulder.
Blaine flinched slightly and felt his stomach turn. He felt a little sick. What the hell? Had his father already forgotten about the last time, just two weeks previously? He realized, after a moment, that his dad probably didn't even know how badly he'd been hurt that time.
Blaine was silent for a minute, then he smiled sadly up at his dad. "I'm just tired. Still sore from last practice," he said. Inside he was screaming, disgusted at himself by his easy words.
Sometimes it was harder to pretend than others.
~break~
He pulled himself together, strengthening his facade as they made their way into back into the house.
They sat in the living room with a bowl of potato chips in front of them, watching a soccer game. Kate was in the basement, working on a baby quilt for the neighbors newborn daughter.
Blaine wiped his greasy fingers on his jeans as their team rushed towards the goal. Father and son cheered and shouted together as the winning goal was scored.
They celebrated the victory joyously and Blaine was smiling widely. His ribs still ached, but it was easy enough to ignore. As the players and fans in the stadium celebrated and rushed the field, the two Anderson men sat back, reveling in the victory for a moment before Blaine slapped his hands on his knees and stood.
"I'm going to go finish my Latin homework," he said, adjusting the hem of his shirt as he stood.
Bill nodded. "Alright," he paused. Then, "How are things with that girlfriend of yours, by the way?"
Blaine faltered half a second, his smile dropping just a millimeter. "Good. Things are great," he half lied. Things were going great, but Kurt was no girl.
BIll smiled and nodded approvingly, clapping Blaine on the bicep. For half a second, panic flooded Blaine's mind. Maybe he wasn't acting well enough? Had his father seen through his act? He flinched almost imperceptibly, but his father didn't even seem to notice and just patted him on the arm.
"Good. I'm proud of you, son."
His heart was racing, but it slowed down a little bit as he smiled sadly at his father. "Thanks, Dad," he said before turning and going upstairs to his room.
Bill watched the after party for a few minutes before he decided to change to the news. He reached across the couch for the remote and creased his brow when he noticed something sticking up between the couch cushions. He pulled it out and realized it was his son's phone.
He touched the side button and the screen lit up. He read the newest unopened message, displayed on the screen and felt disgust creeping up his spine.
New message from Kurt
Kay. Love you. 3
He hit the touch screen, opening up the conversation and reading over it. His face got progressively more red as he read the obvious flirting. It made him sick.
He squeezed his fist around the phone and stood up, and almost too calm, he walked slowly up the stairs. He wasn't sure what he was going to do about this, but something had to be done. This kind of behavior was unacceptable.
He opened the door without knocking and stood there for a moment before Blaine noticed him. He looked up from his textbook.
"Dad?" he asked.
When Bill didn't say anything, Blaine started to get nervous. He looked at his father, the expression on the man's face all too familiar. Then he noticed the phone in his hand and paled.
His hand flew to his hip and felt his pocket. Empty.
"No, Dad, I-" he began to plead, fear lacing his voice.
He had barely begun to stutter out his plea before his father was across the room. Blaine jumped to his feet and held his hands up protectively, palms out.
He expected a slap, maybe a punch. He hadn't expected, however, for his father's knee to dig into his groin. He let out a strangled cry as pain blinded him and he saw white. His knees buckled and he sank down. Then he was kicked down there again, and again.
He lost count and sort of blacked out, the room swimming and fading to black. He came back just a few seconds later to fresh pain in a new area. He could hear the crack when two of his ribs snapped and the pain burnt him up. He screamed.
"Dad! Stop! Please!"
BIll was on his knees in front of Blaine, then. He grabbed a fistful of his shirt and pulled him up off the ground. He punched him in the gut and Blaine choked on his words. He was dropped to the ground and kicked again.
This time he really did choke and his body convulsed in a series of dry heaves. He threw up, choking and coughing and crying.
There was silence in the room, only interrupted by Blaine's ragged breathing and gasping. He felt something thud against his back, a sharp pain hitting his shoulder blade, then his phone clattered to the ground beside him, the screen cracked.
"I'll kill you next time."
It was silent again and Blaine could only guess that he was gone. He laid there for a long time. He lost track the number of times he would find himself waking up, not realizing that he had passed out. It hurt to breathe.
He laid in silence like he always did, curled up and waiting for the pain to fade a little bit so he could slip into sweet unconsciousness again. But this time it didn't happen. He just lay there, the pain thudding through his body. So he got up.
He pushed himself up to his knees on arms made of jelly and pain lanced through his side. He curled up again, gasping for breath and screwing his eyes tightly. After a minute he got control of himself again and stood up.
Kate was in his doorway. He stood there, breathing heavy and hunched over, one arm across his abdomen protectively and the other steadying himself on the nightstand.
"Blaine…" she started.
"Get out," he said, his voice dark.
Hurt flashed across her eyes and she lingered for a few more seconds. But then she tightened her jaw and bowed her head, moving from the doorway.
He stood there for a while. He would pause between movements, waiting for the pain to fade enough for short bursts of action now. He looked down at his night stand and saw his keys.
He didn't really make the decision to leave. It just happened. He didn't remember driving for two hours, which was scary by itself. He just remembered repeating a phrase over and over in his head.
Gotta get safe. Gotta get safe. Gotta get safe.
Suddenly it was dark and cold and raining and he was standing outside with his keys gripped tightly in his hand, biting into his palm sharply. Where was he?
He looked around sluggishly and the realization dawned on him. He was standing front of Kurt's door. Had he really driven two whole hours from Westerville to Lima? He barely believed that he'd managed it.
He stared dully at the door. What was he supposed to do? What the hell was he supposed to do now? He couldn't just knock on the door and say he was just dropping by. It was the middle of the night. Kurt would know something was wrong. It was obvious.
He stood there for a long time. He seemed to be doing a lot of standing around silently. He wasn't sure how long he stood there, but by the time he made up his mind, he was shivering uncontrollably and was soaked to the bone.
Slowly, he reached out one hand. He paused just before he pressed the doorbell, then pressed it hard and laid on it for a few seconds. His arm dropped back to his side and he felt relief crash over him.
There was no going back now.