Alright. This isn't going to be a happy story. Well, it will eventually. But not yet! I've gotta torture Blaine a little first. Please be aware of the character spoiler for 3x15.
And this will eventually be a Klaine story, but for now, we're starting at the events of Sadie Hawkins and moving on from there. It's an Anderbros bonding story, and will largely follow Season 2 (and maybe 3?) canon, but will deviate somewhat in the smaller aspects of canon storylines.
Enjoy! And please let me know what you think so far!
The world is pain. And cold. And hopeless.
There isn't a part of Blaine's body that doesn't feel these emotions, one, ten, a hundred times more powerful than he's ever felt.
He lays shaking on the asphalt in the parking lot outside of his school, the only place other than his own home that he should feel safe, no matter what. He can feel the blood running down the side of his face, can tell vaguely that his wrist is definitely messed up.
He tries to call for his brother, but no sound comes out. He squeezes his eyes shut and wills Cooper to come, to just walk outside from the dance that he and his friends, who have all long since graduated, volunteered to chaperone. He should've just waited and taken the offered ride home from Cooper. He'd stupidly thought he would be getting his first kiss tonight. His date had dusted himself off and ran, not long after the boys with bats left. Blaine had hoped he'd gone to get help, but so far he's still alone. Blaine wants to think that if he'd been in his position, he would've gone for help, but he's not sure. He wishes he could run away from this now and never look back, never think about the pain and the terror.
He isn't sure how long he lays there, shivering, hurting, but it feels like hours.
He hears footsteps approaching, and his first thought is that the boys are back to finish the job. He whimpers, trying to twist his body away, to make himself move, but his knees won't cooperate with his brain, his ankles won't bend right; he can't get up, get away.
"Oh my god. Are you okay?" It's a woman, someone Blaine doesn't know, but recognizes as the volunteer who was taking tickets at the door earlier in the evening. There is a younger girl, one of Blaine's classmates, trailing behind her, her eyes wide, jaw dropped. Blaine spares a thought for how terrible he must look, covered in blood, wrist bent at an unnatural angle. "Do you know him?" the woman barks at the girl. "Do you know his name?"
The girl nods, but can't take her eyes off of him. "It's Blaine. Blaine Anderson."
The woman must recognize the name; as she pulls out her phone and dials 911, she turns back to the girl. "Go inside, get Cooper Anderson. He's a chaperone, tell him to get out here." The girl finally draws her eyes away from him, looks up at her mother. "Go!"
Blaine listens to the woman's voice as she talks to the operator on the phone, describing his injuries, their location. He closes his eyes again, the parking lot lights overhead making his head hurt worse than it already does. He can't stop shaking, clad only in his thin dress shirt and cheap suit pants, both of which are nearly soaked through with sweat and blood. Listening to the extent of his injuries, Blaine can feel his heart start to race, his breathing picks up, and he whimpers every time his wrist is jostled with his shaking.
He hears someone running across the parking lot, shouting his name. Cooper drops unceremoniously on the ground next to him, his hands hovering over Blaine's body, unsure what to check for first.
"Blaine. Oh shit, Blaine," He pulls off his suit jacket and balls it up, gently lifting Blaine's head and placing it underneath.
"There's an ambulance on its way," the woman offers.
Cooper doesn't say anything, wipes Blaine's hair out of his face. Blaine jumps when the injury on his head is touched, even as delicately as his brother is handling him. Cooper leans down and presses his forehead to Blaine's, his thumb running lightly over his cheek.
"Blaine," Cooper breathes out, "You with me, buddy?"
Blaine still hasn't opened his eyes, doesn't want to see the broken look he knows his brother is wearing. He opens his mouth but only a whine comes out.
"C-coop," he manages, tears leaking from the corners of his eyes, which Cooper brushes away. He can hear a siren in the distance, steadily getting louder as it nears. "Coop."
"It's alright. It's okay, help is coming," he smooths his hand down Blaine's arm, reaching back up to touch his cheek. "It's okay."
The paramedics arrive and it's more of a blur to Blaine than the beating was. He can't do anything useful, can barely move, can't speak to describe what happened. He's laid out on the stretcher, his left hand being put into a splint, and he reaches up with his shaking right hand, blindly feeling for his brother.
"I'm right here," Cooper says behind him, taking his hand. Blaine squeezes as hard as he can, which isn't very, but he feels better knowing that he isn't alone anymore. Cooper's other hand comes down on his forehead, smoothing back his hair again.
"He get in a fight?" one of the paramedics asks.
"Does he look like he got in a fight?" Cooper responds, sounding angry. "Someone beat the shit out of him and left him in a parking lot."
The other paramedic is looking over Blaine's swollen ankle, and he whines at the contact, turning his face to rest against Cooper's hand.
"It was a school dance," Cooper says, calmer, quieter, his other hand coming down to rest on Blaine's shoulder, squeezing lightly. "He's gay. He went with another boy. They left, and we found him in the parking lot. I think I can fill in the rest."
Blaine feels a pinch on the inside of his arm, and a few seconds later, the pain is receding; he feels almost human again.
Blaine relaxes his face and blinks open his eyes, looking at his brother's upside-down face behind him. Cooper smiles down at him, "Hey, there you are."
"Here I am," Blaine croaks, and Cooper's smile grows bigger. The ambulance comes to a stop and the doors open, the cold night air rushing over Blaine, who squeezes Cooper's hand tight again.
"I'll be right behind you," he drops a quick kiss onto Blaine's forehead before their hands fall apart and Blaine is wheeled into the hospital.
When he wakes up, most of the pain is gone. He picks up his heavy left arm, his wrist in a proper cast. Cooper is asleep in a chair next to his bed, looking exhausted.
Blaine feels drained, devoid of emotion. Now that his physical pain is being managed, he has the brain space to begin processing what happened to him. How a night that started out perfectly ended with such disaster. How the first punch came out of nowhere, shocking him enough to let the others jump on his date, while the biggest one grabbed Blaine by his hair and dragged him behind a row of cars. How the bat came down, first on his ankle, then again on his wrist, followed by an awful crack and an explosion of pain.
He licks his dry lips and stares at the wall, in disbelief that he's in the hospital, in this awful itchy gown, an IV line in his arm, cast on his wrist and ace bandage on his ankle.
He breathes out a tired sigh and Cooper stirs in his chair.
"Hey," he says quietly, scooting his chair over and taking Blaine's good hand. Blaine doesn't take his eyes off the wall, unable to look at his brother, ashamed to have been seen at his very worst by someone he admires for his strength. "Not talking?"
Blaine hums quietly. "Mom and dad?" he asks, finally looking at Cooper.
Cooper frowns. "Stuck in New York. They're trying."
Blaine shakes his head, wincing at the lingering pain. "No they aren't."
"They are," Cooper insists. "You don't give them enough credit, Blaine. They love you, you know that."
Blaine doesn't respond, just closes his eyes and leans back into the pillows behind him.
"What a terrible dance," he whispers miserably.