A/N: I normally do A/Ns at the bottom, but because of the unique nature of this fic, I'm moving it to the top, so, surprise!
This fic, as I said in the description, is based off of McKlainely High by beautifulwhatsyourhurry. The character Aydyn Stonato is of her creation, and the incident vaguely described in this story comes from MH. I don't want to go into too much detail here, because if you haven't read MH yet, you need to get the hell away from my stories and go read it, because BWYH is, like, a billion percent better at writing than I am.
That being said, I apologize to BWYH if she is in anyway offended or off-put by the fic. I am a humble fan who wanted to pay homage to an amazing fic by contemplating a future event. Sorry if this isn't how you envisioned Klaine's future.
Healed Scars Still Hurt
He weighed two cans of tomato paste in his hands, mentally reviewing the pros and cons of each brandk. After a few minutes, he dropped the more expensive but more organic one into his hemp shopping bag. Crossing this last item off of the list on his phone, he approached the thankfully unoccupied checkout counter and purchased his goods. He snuck a Dove chocolate bar into the mix; his fiancé would certainly appreciate that for dessert. He said his goodbye to Olive, the worker he'd come to know fairly well through his many trips to the small organic food store, and turned to exit the shop.
Only to crash into someone. His bag slipped from his hand as he stumbled backward. "Sorry, sorry!" he apologized quickly, scrambling for his groceries before his cucumbers gathered up too much of New York's ever-present grime. A hand touched his, and he looked up.
It was like a freight train crashed into his chest. Air whooshed from his lungs, and his vision blurred. What is he doing here? He snatched his bag up and backed into a rack of birdseed. His eyes darted about, frantically searching for an escape.
"Blaine?"
The last thing he wanted to hear was his name coming out of his mouth. He sucked in just enough oxygen to choke out a squeaky, "Aydyn."
Aydyn nodded, shoving his hands into the pockets of his jeans. He aged well, Blaine's bewildered mind noted—but the only effect those charming good looks had on him was the shot of terror that coursed up and down his spine. His fought the rushing flashback of pain and shame and fear to keep focused on the now.
Aydyn took one step forward, and Blaine unfroze. He jerked to the side and bolted, praying to whatever that he would make it to the door without Aydyn stopping him.
His prayers went unanswered. A hand closed around his wrist, and Blaine fell out the door, dragging the older man with him. The street outside was uncharacteristically empty. Blaine yanked his arm from Aydyn's grip, cradling it in his opposite hand as though it had been burned. "What are you doing here?" he shouted over the din of traffic.
Aydyn's hands returned to his pockets. "I'm visiting my cousin. She lives a few blocks over. She ran out of lactose-free milk last night, so I came to pick some up."
It was such a normal answer. Blaine hated it. He didn't know how to respond, so he just turned on his heel and marched toward his apartment building. Aydyn's hand stopped him from making it far once more, and he jerked his shoulder away. "Don't touch me," he snarled.
Aydyn looked ashamed. "Listen, Blaine, I—what I did was wrong—like, really wrong." He winced when Blaine scoffed. "I was young—that's not an excuse! But I was young and angry and selfish, and I hurt you. I'm sorry."
Blaine knew he should forgive him. It had been nearly a decade. There was no reason for him to hold onto this—except...
"I still have nightmares, you know." Aydyn's head whipped up to stare at Blaine's impassive face. "When Kurt's not home, or when I stay up watching reruns of Law and Order: SVU, or when there's a thunderstorm—which makes no sense, because it wasn't even raining that day. Each one is different. Sometimes you go through with it. Sometimes you don't. Sometimes it's Kurt instead of me. Sometimes I'm the one who...It's been ten years, Aydyn, and I'm still not over this. So I'm going to go home, make my fiancé a romantic tortellini dinner, and forget I was ever stupid enough to give you my virginity, and you're going to walk away and never speak to me again, okay?" He didn't wait for an answer. He whipped around and nearly ran home, holding the flood of tears back until he was alone in elevator. When the doors slid open with a ding, he stumbled to his door, shakily unlocking it so he could fall inside. The hemp bag crashed to the floor, and Blaine followed it. He curled up on his side and tried to swallow back his fear. He knew he needed to get up, to start on dinner so Kurt could be surprised—he'd been waiting for this promotion—but he couldn't make his limbs work.
He must have lain there hours, because eventually the door opened by his feet to reveal an already babbling Kurt. "Well, it's official! Once my spread is featured in next month's Vogue, the design house will consider me a featured designer, and I'll have a team and the freedom to cre—Blaine?" Knees hit the floor behind Blaine's back, and hands fluttered up and down his body. "Baby? Oh my God, what's going on?"
Blaine clambered into Kurt's lap, throwing his arms around his fiancé's neck. "Sorry," he sniffed. "I, um, I just—sorry."
"Sh," Kurt whispered in his ear. He leaned back against the door, cradling his fiancé in his lap. "What happened?"
Blaine swallowed thickly. He turned to look into Kurt's eyes. "I ran into Aydyn Stonato today."
The clear glasz of Kurt's irises immediately darkened to a light cerulean. "Did he touch you?"
With a nod, Blaine murmured, "He apologized." Kurt's arms tensed around Blaine's trembling torso, but he didn't speak. "He...we literally ran into each other, and he...said he was young...and stupid, and he was sorry. I...I didn't forgive him."
Kurt didn't say anything. He held Blaine and pressed light kisses to his bushy mane. Eventually, Blaine pulled his head away from Kurt's neck and spotted the groceries lying on the ground. "Shit, forgot about those." He stood up, but Kurt held fast to his hand.
"Babe, forget about those. Go lay down on the couch."
"But I was going to make you a nice celebratory dinner." Blaine looked ashamed. "I'm sorry."
Kurt stood and led Blaine to the sofa. "You have nothing to be sorry for. You did nothing wrong. Lay here and rest. I'll wake you up when dinner is ready."
"M'kay." Blaine curled up on the cushions, his eyes already sliding shut. Kurt removed the blanket from the back of the couch and draped it over Blaine's still-tense frame. After Kurt kissed him on the forehead, he fell asleep.
His eyes flew open to see Kurt's concerned face hovering close to his own. "Are you okay, baby?"
Blaine pushed himself into a sitting position. "Nightmare." He didn't elaborate; Kurt didn't need to know that Blaine just spent what felt like hours being violated over and over and over again.
Kurt nodded understandingly. He wordlessly took his fiancé by the hand and led him to their small kitchen table. He set a plate of tortellini in front of him and poured two glasses of white wine. They ate in silence, Kurt's eyes trained on Blaine's face, which was focused on the hand pushing the noodles about his plate. After ten minutes or so Kurt gave up and took Blaine's meal from the table, silencing his superfluous apology with a kiss. "You can have it for lunch tomorrow," he reasoned. He then shuffled Blaine back to the couch, laying both down so he could hold his fiancé about the middle from behind. He reached up and grabbed the remote, navigating through a series of menus and settings until Beauty and the Beast began playing on the television.
As the two men watched the movie, Kurt ran his fingers gently across Blaine's stomach, humming along to the familiar songs and laughing quietly at the funny bits. Periodically, he would get close and whisper you are so perfect and I love you and don't doubt yourself and other sweet nothings into his ear. Blaine shivered through each one, burrowing himself deeper into Kurt's embrace.
Blaine fell asleep somewhere around "Gaston," which was normally his favorite part, and Kurt followed not long after. When the former reawoke, the bouncing DVD logo shone through the dark living room. Kurt still clutched tightly at him. He smiled.
He was safe. He was warm. He was loved. What happened ten years ago happened. It would always be a scar on his memory, but he had healed. In four months, he would have a husband with whom he would spend the rest of his life. In eight months, his first record label would hit the shelves, even though it was only an EP. Maybe in a year or so, he'd have a baby to cuddle with on this couch, watching this movie.
And Aydyn Stonato would not be a part of any of it.
Blaine snuggled deeper into Kurt's chest, his eyes sliding shut contentedly.