Perfect is over-rated - chp1 AU

I've never really liked the way I looked but ever since I had come out, they'd definitely taken advantage of that. They would judge and criticise me, tell me that they hated me because I wasn't built up like them or strong and normally I wouldn't mind but it all got to me in the end. No one had supported me through it since they found out I was gay, if anything they encouraged it. The bullying started off as general name calling and locker shoves and normally I didn't think much of. But then more people joined in on the idea and the more I heard, the more it hurt. Then the jeers turned into physical hate.

Locker shoves had become more frequent in school and I would come home to face the bruises lined across my shoulders and back. Some jocks and their friends would vandalise some of my belongings and blame me for things they did in class. My father would get calls from the school saying I got into fights and he would yell at me for being a disappointment to him and hit or slap me on the off chance but I could smell the alcohol in his breath.

One time they even cornered me after school in a group of five or six and beat me up; punches, slaps and kicks while others shouted profanities at me but I didn't fight back.

But the worst thing of all was that no one helped, no one noticed. I'd come home that day of the beating; my eye swollen and my arms and face roughed up from the gravel that they pushed me onto. My dad was in his study the entire time but I raced up to my room as I choked back the sobs of hurt and pain. My mother was downstairs cooking dinner while I cried into the sheets of my bed. Once she called me down for dinner, I had nervously sat down and played with my food but she was so concerned with her phone, she didn't notice the numerous bruises embedded upon my face. I was so hurt that I left my dinner and ran upstairs and the tear stains laid on my bed sheets as I drifted into nightmarish sleeps. It made me realise that no one cared how I looked because they would just see me as the one who isn't straight, they didn't want to know who I was underneath the bruised face.

I always thought they did it because of how I looked, as they always told me. I didn't know they had found out that I liked boys so I always had that constant thought in my mind telling me that how I looked wasn't good enough for society and I would have to change and be like how the media wanted people to be; beautiful, skinnier and pretty.

The constant tormenting even caused me to loose my best friend; Kurt Hummel. We'd met when we were eight years old.

Flash back

I had sat by myself on a bench in the school playground as I watched all the children play games with each other like hide and seek – which I hated in particular because the first time I played, the seeker had forgotten about me and left me outside in the cold for about the hour and I was still scared of the dark.

A small boy who was crying had run over to where I was sat and plopped down beside me as his cries quietened.

He drew his hands away from his face and looked over at me and quickly got up. "I'm sorry I'm bothering you, I'll leave." I had taken a big step for myself and grabbed his hand to stop him leaving.

"Please don't go! You're not bothering me I promise!" He looked down at our hands before sitting down beside me and smiling a little. His face was stained with tears but he looked pretty.

"What's the matter?" I asked, our hands still linked.

"The – the big boys said I was stupid f-for wearing a pink scarf that my daddy bought me so t-they threw it into a muddy puddle and now its ruined. It – it was my favourite."

"I'm sorry they did that. From what I can see, it's a very nice scarf, I like it." I replied with a smile.

"R-really? You don't think I'm a baby for crying or think I'm weird for having this scarf?" He spoke unsure. His voice was still slightly broken.

"I promise. It's as pretty as your eyes, what's your name?" I asked as I felt a blush form on my face, his also.

"Kurt Hummel. And you are?"

"Blaine Anderson. It's nice to meet you Kurt. You're a nice friend."

"I'm not your friend" he replied. I looked sadly down at my shoes before he lifted my face up to look at me "I'm your best friend, if you like."

The smile on my face was a good enough answer for Kurt and we ran off together playing fun little games with each other – our hands still entwined.

Present

But I had lost him now. The bullying got between us and we only met up secretly because we couldn't hold hands like we used to. Once I had transferred, we just lost contact. We never really met up or spoke to each other now. Distant memories now. I still don't have any friends, I was afraid that if I made any I would lose them like I lost Kurt. I still have his number in my phone (if he hasn't changed it) because I never had the strength to delete it. That one thing among the few photos I have of him are my comforters. He made me happy and those little things remind me of the happiness.

The constant hate and abusive made me hate who I was and how I looked. I didn't 'turn straight', I'm still gay and proud to be but from that day forward I was never satisfied with how I looked. "Perfect Blaine" never existed in my mind, never would and no one told me otherwise.

I would try different diets to take away that excess fat I had around my stomach but that didn't ease the bullying. I thought about trying to hide the bruises but then they would judge me and tease me about wearing make up. I would join the gym and a lot of the sports teams but the bullies would just pick on me like I was prey and they were the predator.

I didn't transfer schools until my parents got a call from the hospital saying I had a sprained ankle, 2 broken ribs and a broken arm. They didn't think I was bullied, they just thought I got into a serious fight, not pushed down a flight of stairs. But I guess it was my fault that I didn't tell them the issues at school, I didn't think they would care. They didn't even know I was gay.

So when a boy, soaked to the bone in rain turned up on my doorstep asking for my help, you could definitely say that I was surprised.

When this mysterious boy had turned up on my doorstep, I swear he was one of the most beautiful people I had seen even with soaking wet hair and rain dripping down his porcelain cheeks. I gave him a spare change of clothes and I got him sit down with a mug of hot chocolate as he was shivering.

"I'm sorry for being such a burden for you but I was really tired of walking and oh I'm sorry for how this looks – I'll just leave now." The boy said. He finished his drink and quickly stood up.

"No, wait. You can stay here. My parents are away for a few weeks so they don't need to know. I can help you like you asked, just to stabilise you a little. It's quite odd that you seem my age but here you are soaked and crying. I don't mean to sound rude but you seem to have a story behind this little journey and you could at least tell me why you spontaneously turned up on my doorstep."

The boy looked at me with wide eyes and I realised how it must have sounded to him.

"How about we go get some coffee and I can get to know my guest." I winked at him slightly which caused him to smile and blush a little and we left the house, got into the car and drove to the coffee place.

Once sitting down in the shop with a coffee each I began to introduce my self.

"I'm Blaine. What's your name?" I asked before taking another sip of coffee.

"Kurt." The name struck a feeling of pain inside of me and a tear fell down my face unknowingly. He leaned over to wipe it away and I looked at his hand, new to this amount of contact. He quickly retreated because he looked like he immediately regretted it.

"Why are you crying? I was the one who turned up on your doorstep soaked and looking homeless compared to my usual self."

"Sorry it's just that my first best friend was called Kurt and we just lost contact about seven years ago. It still gets to me because of what I've been through."

He put his hand on mine and replied "Well maybe you can tell me your story some other time as you insist on knowing mine first. To put it simply, I'm gay."

My eyes widened in astonishment because I had never met another gay person.

"Me too. Wow, I never thought I would meet another boy who likes boys."

"Sorry for assuming but you just seemed too handsome to be gay – I mean, just look at me." He pointed to himself and had a shy but joking smile on his face. I put my hand on his reassuringly with all the courage I had, afraid to be judged or stared at with disgust from passers by.

"Don't think like that. You are by far the nicest, best looking boy I've seen for a long time." I know it was slightly hypocritical saying 'don't think like that' but he needed it and I was definitely speaking the truth about his niceness. But hey, he called me handsome. Handsome! That's the first time I'd heard that from someone and it felt nice to hear a compliment, it made me feel warm inside and gave me that little bit of bravery to touch his hand and neither of us were complaining. For the first time since, I finally felt like I could move on from my old best friend a little. But I was still weary about making friends with this Kurt figure. I needed to know I could trust him and then maybe – just maybe I could tell him about my past but I knew that would be a long shot. But for now I needed to try and be a friend figure and help him while putting aside my issues for a little.

"So why did you turn up like you did?" I asked. I pulled my hands away from his as I wasn't sure the rest of the customers would like that sort of thing in the social environment.

"Wow I've known you for about 2 hours and I feel like I can trust you. I'm getting bullied at school. The sneers and profanities are getting too much at school. I was forcefully outed at school but I'm still in the closet at home. I can't tell my family what's happening there, the stress would be too much for my dad and I can't loose him." He pushed up his sleeves to reveal the numerous bruises painting his skin in dark colours. He looked down at the horrendous sight and quickly pulled the sleeves back down. "And wow, I'm telling all my issues with you – who may or may not be my friend now."

"I'll be your best friend. I'll help you through this Kurt and maybe you can do the same for me."

"Your -?"

"I'm going through what you are as well but we'll save that tale for a different rainy day. Right now I'm here to help you and I'll do the best I can to help you Kurt. Please don't feel like your intruding and your welcome to stay for as long as you need."

"Thank you Blaine."