Held
Summary: Everyone teaches girls to be careful with their drinks and whom they surround themselves with, but people don't think about it when it comes to boys. I did and I should've told you sooner. I should have taught you how to protect yourself. Part 7 of Blurred series.
A/N: I had to reupload this like four times because the site keeps giving a 'story not found' error. Hopefully it stays working this time!
So apparently I lied. There will be ONE more part of the Blurred series (this one). I was at work one day and the idea of Blaine's parents reactions just wouldn't leave me alone. Here goes.
P.S. I feel like I should have listed this under Angst twice, but I settled for Angst/Family.
He sat stiffly on the couch, his fingers tapping nervously on the fabric of his pants as he stared at the blank television screen.
It didn't matter that the screen was a blank, dark grey; he could still see the scenes playing out before his eyes. He could see Sebastian's smug face grinning down at him; the dim interior of a car turning fuzzy and stretching oddly in a confusing distortion.
He shook his head, closing his eyes against the threatening tears. It seemed like every time he was alone the memories would flash through his mind like it was happening all over again. The one thing that should have been sacred to him had been torn away. It was supposed to be about love and only with Kurt- he was supposed to feel loved- but now all he felt was filthy and damaged.
Sebastian had used him.
It made him wish desperately that he hadn't insisted on going home on his own after school to wait the few hours it would take for his parents to get home. At the very least Kurt would have reminded him that he was loved, even if he wasn't sure he could believe it.
As if on cue a key turned in the front lock and the door creaked open. He stood up and slowly walked over to the house's front entrance to find his parents setting down their suitcases breathlessly.
"Hey," he said in a quiet greeting, lowering his head slightly. His eyes fixed upon the carpet, unable to look his parents in the eyes. He could only imagine how angry they would be at him for cutting their trip short.
His mother dropped everything in her arms and moved as if to rush at him. He flinched backwards, but his father's arm shot out and stopped her.
"Bianca, no," his father's voice was quiet, but slightly scolding towards his wife.
His jaw trembled as he stared at them. He was ruined, damaged, so spoiled that his father didn't want his own mother touching him.
"Leo!" She hissed at her husband, pushing his arm out of her way.
"Sweetheart," Blaine's father continued gently, "Blaine might- it might make him uncomfortable."
Blaine just shook his head. Were they really not angry? The looks on their faces didn't scream angry so he ventured a whisper, "No please. Mom- Mom-" his cheeks flushed slightly as he finished and bowed his head again, "hold me?"
His mother's movements were softer this time, slower and gentler, but she still came towards him and folded him into her arms, clasping him tightly. "Hi Baby," she murmured quietly, a hand sliding over his curls that mirrored her own. "I missed you."
"I missed you too," he mumbled into her shoulder, taking comfort in the familiar lavender scent of her perfume. He paused a moment before tightening his embrace slightly and letting out in a tiny voice, "Mama, it hurts."
He let his resolve and his façade crumble as she held him tighter and whispered gently into his ear, "I know Baby, I know. I'm so sorry."
"Mama," he hadn't called her that in years, yet now he couldn't help himself as salty track marks found his face and a broken sob escaped his throat.
"Shh, Baby, shh," Bianca murmured tenderly, leading them back into the den with his father following. Her hand continued filtering soothingly through his hair and over the back of his neck. "Mama's here now."
He curled into her automatically when they settled onto the couch and she cradled him gently while he released the violent hiccoughing sobs he'd been holding back for days.
"We'll go to the police station first thing in the morning," he heard his dad speak quietly. "I think for tonight we should just have some family time. What do you think, son?"
He just shook his head, unable to speak and burrowing his into his mother's shoulder as more sobs broke from his throat wordlessly.
He felt his father's weight settle into the couch next to him, before a tentative hand reached out to touch his shoulder. He flinched under the touch slightly, but was slightly pleased when the hand didn't pull away automatically, but rather started to gently rub his back. "Alright, we don't need to talk about it now son. You just let it all out."
He blinked, the sobs stopping more to do with pure shock than anything else. Was his father actually encouraging him to cry? All he could remember all his life was his father encouraging him to follow what he called 'more manly pursuits'. Sobbing like a child hardly seemed like a manly pursuit.
He coughed, before hiccoughing softly and raised his head carefully from his mother's shoulder and looked over at his father. "You- you're not mad?"
His father's face softened, before he frowned deeply, his hand still rubbing Blaine's back gently. "I'm not mad. What happened wasn't your fault. The only person I'm angry at is that- that- boy who had the nerve to hurt my son."
"I thought you wanted me to man up," Blaine murmured under his breath, his body still shaking slightly as he moved to wipe away his tears. "Getting raped doesn't seem too manly to me."
"What happened to you has nothing to do with how 'manly' you are." His father was quick to interject. "You're so brave Blaine, telling everyone what that boy did to you. You're more of a man than I am. I'm sorry if I ever made you feel like you weren't enough of a man for me, because I'm the one that messed up here, not you." The hand on his back stopped abruptly and he looked up to see his father staring at him, before an odd shining quality came into his father's eyes. "Son I want you to listen to me now," he said in a soft, firm voice. "I'm going to tell you a story, one that I hope helps you to understand why I am like I am."
Blaine just shrugged his shoulders, pressing a little closer against his mother but regarding his father with careful eyes.
The usually extremely put together man let out a long breath, "When I was young I was a skinny little thing; scrawny, like you were before you started boxing. I was twelve years old and your grandfather had passed away five years before. My mother, your grandmother, well she had a boyfriend and well let's just say he wasn't very nice man." His father stopped for a moment, actually sniffling softly. "This man told me that because I liked to sing, because I understood girls and because I wasn't strong enough to fight him off that I deserved what he would do when he came into my room at night."
"Dad-" his voice squeaked as his chest clenched at the information his father was sharing.
"Blaine I'm not finished yet," his father admonished him in a gentle voice. "He told me he was just teaching me how to be a proper man." He watched in astonished silence as his father shook his head, obviously still pained by the memories, just like he was. "Your Nana found out and she kicked him out, but she didn't want to call the cops. She was embarrassed that she let a man like that into her house; near me. What he did changed me."
His dad took his hand gently, tears sliding into the slight wrinkles under his eyes. "When your mother and I had you I promised myself I wouldn't let something like that happen to you. I promised I would do what it took to protect you; to make sure no one would hurt you like that." His father shook his head, letting out a choking laugh, "Turns out you're just like me; you love to sing, love to dance. You see the best in everyone. I thought maybe if I encouraged you to do other, stereotypical manly things, that it might protect you. Then when you told me that you're gay; that scared me."
There was another small, soft sniff, "Not only were you all those things that made that man target me, but you were going to be out in a world that didn't understand you. You were going to be around people who would see you and your naivety and your slight build and want to take advantage of you. I thought sending you to Dalton would help. I thought despite knowing it was impossible that if I could make you straight-" his dad shook his head, "I was being stupid. I should have known better. I should have known that the only way I could protect you was to be there for you; to teach you how to watch out for things like that."
"It's not your fault Dad-"
"Everyone teaches girls to be careful with their drinks and about whom they surround themselves with, but people don't think about that as much when it comes to boys," his father continued softly. "I did. I knew all about it and I should have told you sooner. I should have taught you how to protect yourself."
"Dad," he tried again in a small voice.
"I just need you to know that that's the only reason I've been acting like I have. It wasn't that I was disappointed in who you've become. It's because I was scared- of this- of someone hurting my baby boy," his father took in a deep breath, reaching forward gently and gathering him into his arms. "You have to know Blaine, that I love you, no matter what."
"I love you too Dad," he mumbled back, feeling a little strange to be held so securely in his father's arms. He couldn't remember the last time his father had held him like that. He shook a little and looked up at him before asking in a small voice, "Does it ever go away?"
His father's arms closed around him tighter, "It gets easier as time goes on, but I'm sorry Blaine. It doesn't ever really go away." His father paused momentarily, "But you have people who're going to help you- who love you. You have me and your mother."
"And Kurt," he murmured in a tiny voice, sniffling slightly.
"Yes and Kurt," his father agreed softly, before pulling Blaine back a little and locking their eyes. "I want you to listen to me right now. I don't want you to blame yourself for this. Nothing you did made what that Sebastian kid did to you your fault; just like what happened to me all those years ago wasn't mine. The sooner you come to terms with that, the better, okay?"
His eyes veered from his father's looking down at the swirling patterns of the couch and didn't answer. "I trusted him."
"Yes you did," Leo Anderson murmured quietly, "but that doesn't make it your fault. It just means you see the best in people and that's not a bad thing. Unfortunately there are people out there, like that kid, who'll try to take advantage of that. You had to learn that the hard way I'm afraid."
"So what do I do?" He gulped down the sobs building up in his throat, trying desperately to contain them.
"Trust your instincts," his mother cut into the conversation quietly.
He turned his heard to her, blinking slowly in confusion.
"Was there a moment, however fleeting that you thought something just wasn't right about him?" His mother asked. "Was there a moment when something told you that you should leave, or that something was wrong that you ignored because you would be rude, or impolite?"
Blaine looked at her wonderingly for a moment, before forcing his mind back to the moments before everything had gotten so fuzzy when he had run into Sebastian at the Lima Bean.
"Just wait here. I'll grab us some coffee," Sebastian pushed him lightly into the chair, making his shoulders tense at the contact. Something about the way the other boy's hands lingered on him just a little longer than necessary made him force back a wince. "You like cinnamon in yours right?"
He'd nodded his head, frowning a little, "I can do it myself."
"Let me be a gentleman Blaine. It makes me feel useful." Sebastian had laughed at him, something about the odd quality of the laughter made his muscles bunch up, but he'd ignored it; telling himself that he was just being silly. Besides, who was he to take away what made Sebastian feel useful?
When Sebastian had come back and handed him his coffee he'd taken a sip, fighting back the urge to wrinkle his nose. It tasted like someone had put salt in it instead of sugar and then drowned it in far too much cinnamon to try and drown out the mistake.
He resisted the impulse to make a face and smiled, saying a small, polite, "Thanks."
"He made me feel uncomfortable," Blaine whispered, the signs looking so much clearer now that he forced himself to look back. "I knew it tasted wrong, but- I didn't- I thought maybe- I don't know. I didn't want to complain about it. It just seemed-"
"Rude?" His mother asked, finishing his sentence for him.
He nodded his head.
"Baby sometimes you just have to listen to your fear," she told him, laying her hand gently on his shoulder considering he was still being held firmly in his father's arms. "Don't be afraid to be rude when it comes to your safety. If it feels wrong, it probably is."
He chewed on his lip, bright tears seeping under his eyelids, "I could have stopped it."
"No, no," his father shook his head and held him a little more tightly. "That's not what she meant. You couldn't have known Blaine. You couldn't. It just seems that way. It's just hindsight Blaine-"
"Then what; I can't stop it from happening again?" His voice rose in both volume and pitch as the tears started to stream over his cheeks. He pushed himself out of his parents' arms and stumbled off the couch. "I should have known. I saw it. I felt it. I felt he was wrong-"
"It's not your fault-" his mother looked at him, her green eyes wide as he fell to his knees on the carpet.
"They why does it feel like this?" He rasped, his voice echoing off the walls as his hands pulled at his curls harshly. "First you tell me to look back for the signs, to listen to all that shit I didn't pay attention to before so it won't happen again and then you tell me it's not my fault? I didn't listen- I didn't pay attention. I could have stopped it!"
Sobs bubbled up from his throat and he didn't bother trying to hold them back. "I-I practically handed myself to him-"
"You did not! You didn't know what he would do." Leo fell to the floor by his son's side, wrapping his arms around him again, even as Blaine tried to struggle from his hold with his fists. He crushed the boy to him tightly, holding him. "You didn't know Blaine. How could you? No one told you what to look for."
The struggles faded as Blaine fell still, sobbing against his father.
"I feel like I could have done more and maybe I could have. I could have told you about the abuse I suffered earlier- told you what to look for, how to keep yourself safer. There are so many things your mother and I could have done. There are things you could have done differently," his father whispered delicately. "In the end, despite all the 'could have's' the only person to blame for this is the person who committed the crime."
"I just want it to stop. I don't understand how I-I can hurt so much and still be alive." Blaine's fists clenched over his father's shirt, his forehead pressing against his chest. "Please Dad- I just need it to stop."
"I know, I know," the words were comforting, but only slightly. Instead it was the strong, warm arms holding him as they shook that gave him the most security. "I'm sorry Blaine. I'm- It'll get easier, I promise."
"I just," Blaine shook his head. "I'd rather it be my fault than have to believe that it could happen again. I need- I need to know that I can- that I can- I can't let it happen again."
"All you can be is careful," he hadn't even noticed that his mother was kneeling on the floor too now until her hand started to sift through his hair again in a soothing gesture. "It's all anyone can do."
He couldn't speak, couldn't breath as the weight of the words sank into his head, forcing his heart to squeeze in a vicelike grip. His breaths grew shallower as his body trembled. He needed someone to tell him that he wouldn't have to feel like this ever again. He needed it.
Black spots danced in his vision.
"Son, son, look at me," his father peered down at him as a hand tucked under his chin so he was looking up into his dad's deeply lined face. "I need you to breathe deep, okay; slow, deep breaths."
He blinked, tears clinging to his eyelashes and he tried to suck in a deep, shuddering breath. The vice on his heart eased a little as he fought to keep his breathing regular. Some of the black spots slowly disappeared, but he couldn't fight the little hiccoughs that shook through him.
"Listen to me," his father's voice was hoarse. "I can't promise you something like this won't happen again. No one can promise that. But I can promise you now that I will do whatever I can to try to make sure it doesn't, okay? I can promise you that we will always be here for you; both your mother and I. We will always love you and we'll do whatever it takes to make this easier on you."
He nodded his head weakly, leaning back into the embrace. He'd never seen this understanding, emotional side of his father and it felt strange to be there locked so firmly and safely in his embrace but it drained some of the tension in his muscles. It lessened a little more when his mother's arms wrapped gently around both of them too.
"You're safe here," his father murmured in his ear. "You can scream or cry or do whatever you need to let it out. Just let it out Blaine. Just let it out."
Sagging in his father's arms, he let the sobs continue to break from his throat as his parents held him tightly.
A/N: I tend to waffle when it comes to Blaine's parents. I thought after everything I put him through in this series he ought to have some understanding/loving parents and I felt like he desperately needed a hug from his daddy. Also I cried when I wrote this. I thought you all ought to know that.
Okay this really is the last of the series… probably.