Authors Note: After the great response from 'It Gets Better' I did another one shot. I may add more, it's if I get an idea that doesn't go with 'Falling into Hell'.
Seriously spent forever picking the song in this went through ALL Secondhand Serenades songs and I would have finished earlier if I didn't listen to the whole song. I am in love with their music. Check them out. It is changed slightly, but for the story, I'm pretending it was written like this, if you know what I mean.
WARNINGS: It has a few triggers and it is definitely M for a reason. The triggers are in white underneath this message, if you think you need to read them to see if you can read this fic, highlight them or if this doesn't show up on your computer, copy and paste. If you don't want spoilers, read on.
Detailed mentions of both self-harm and rape.
Do it.
It will help.
Do it.
It will make the numbness go away.
Trust me.
Do it.
Kurt slid the blade over the inside of his thigh, applying just enough pressure to break the skin. Why didn't that feel better? Kurt still felt numb. He didn't know whether he preferred the numbness or the weight on his chest. Sometimes it felt like he couldn't feel anything, then he would feel too much. There was never any balance.
Maybe he wasn't doing it right.
Kurt moved to a spot a little further down. The first cut hadn't been too deep and was barely bleeding. It had a slight stinging sensation, but no relief. Maybe he had to do it deeper?
Pressing harder this time, Kurt felt the pain straight away. At first it was worse, but then there it was. Relief. He could feel the tingling. It felt like he could breathe again, it was as if he had been holding his breath under water and he finally got to the surface.
He watched the crimson blood dripping beautifully down thigh, contrasting with the pale skin.
Kurt had never seen something so exquisite.
After a few minutes, the numbness returned; so what else could he do other than repeat what he had done before?
Soon, Kurt had made nine deep lacerations horizontally down his left thigh. Having sat in the bottom of the shower to avoid staining anything, Kurt stood up and washed out the floor. He then put the shower head back into his holder and a long, scorching shower. He washed thoroughly, scrubbing harder than he really needed to. It didn't give the same relief as the pen knife, but the thought he was cleaning of traces of his past and the sting of the hot water on his fresh cuts was okay for now.
After bandaging up his leg and getting ready for bed, Kurt slipped into his sheets. There, he fell asleep almost immediately, getting through the night without any nightmares for the first time in what felt like forever.
*Bang Bang Bang*
Kurt groaned. He must have slept in.
Mondays were the worst day. Sure, now he was here a Dalton, everyday was better, but he had always hated the early morning after being able to sleep in over the weekend. Not that he got much sleep this weekend. He had gone home to visit his friends and family. Words could not describe how much he wished he had never have gone home. Sleeping in; Kurt really must not be well. He was usually the first one up on a school day. But what was the point now?
Kurt had almost forgotten last night's events until he saw his reflection in the mirror.
Unwrapping the gauze around his leg, Kurt admired the red lines. He actually liked them. They were much better than the other recent marks on his body.
Kurt didn't linger on that thought too long because he would soon start to wonder if he was going mad. Instead he pulled on the dull, navy uniform and styled his hair. It wasn't as perfect as normal, but Kurt knew no one would care, or even notice. Making sure all his bruises were covered, he finished getting his school bag together.
*Bang Bang Bang*
"Yes, yes. I'm nearly ready." Kurt yelled towards the impatient dorm advisers.
"It's me Kurt. I thought you might want a coffee. You missed breakfast."
Kurt sighed. Blaine was too hard to cope with. It wasn't that the other boy was mean in any way towards Kurt, It was actually the opposite. He was too nice, which now just constantly reminded him of why things would never work between them.
Kurt was damaged. Blaine deserved someone better.
They were best friends though. He would know something was up if he started acting different now.
"Thanks." Kurt said while opening the door.
Blaine leaned casually against the door frame. He was the definition of gorgeous. It pained Kurt so, so much to be around him, but it hurt much more to not be. He tried to smile back at the dark haired boy, but it felt weird on his face; so instead, he took the coffee and picked up his messenger bag from besides the door.
Blaine dotted from subject to subject on the way to their next class. Blaine was a year above Kurt, but due to Kurt being naturally intelligent, he took the same French, English and Music class as him. They both had PE class together as well as it was mixed.
Kurt never felt more upset at the fact he had as many lessons as he did with Blaine. Usually he was extremely thankful of that fact as he didn't really know anyone else. But today, Kurt found it hard to act like his normal self. He was spiralling further and further into himself. He just hoped Blaine would stop giving him the piercing stares that made Kurt think Blaine could see exactly what he was thinking.
French was first period. The only way Kurt could describe the lesson is long. Luckily, he already knew the language well and had already learnt what the lesson was about. Therefore, when Kurt spaced out, he wasn't missing anything. He kept feeling eyes on him, but when he turned around, everyone was working. Next was English. The corridors were more populated in this area and Kurt found the crowd of people overwhelming. Panic built in his chest as someone accidently bumped into him and pushed him into the wall. The guy was taller and of a larger build. The similarities were too much.
Running to his room, Kurt ignored the strange looks and Blaine's shouts. He had to get away. Thoughts of the consequences of acting this way left Kurt's mind. He needed a release, and he needed it quickly.
He reached his room, locked the door, and then sat on the bathroom floor. He was immensely glad he had transferred midyear as he got a single room and it wouldn't be easy to explain his recent behaviour to a roommate.
He felt his stomach churn as he remembered the events of this weekend. And him.
Kurt just moved in time to aim most of the sick into the toilet. He felt ill. His stomach was churning, his head ached and the weight was back over his chest. He needed relief. Now.
Kurt ignored the banging on the door and removed his clothes. Then, after collecting his pen knife, he turned on the shower and sat on the floor.
He continued on below the cuts from last night, and then moved on to his right leg. He made forty-three cuts in total, but it wasn't enough. He could still feel the weight.
He thought of the consequences of trying it on his wrists. The uniforms were long enough to hide anything and he had plenty of long sleeved tops and jumpers. He knew it would hurt more there. The skin was much more delicate and sensitive. Kurt couldn't get the blissful image of red flowing over his wrists and swirling in the hot water.
Kurt couldn't think of the negatives right now, so he dragged the blade deeply over the bruises on his small wrists. The images in his head clouded and the weight subsided.
He knew he wouldn't get enough of this. It was becoming his favourite thing to do.
Suddenly, no matter how much better he felt, he collapsed into tears. Yes, he felt better, but he was worthless and broken. This weekend had killed him in some ways. He could never go back. Back to the person he was before, both mentally and physically. Back to Lima; he would never feel safe. Back to living without self harm; he needed it.
He didn't know how long he cried in the bottom of the shower, but after a while he went through his new cleaning routine he had as of this weekend and the fell into bed. He didn't bother getting dressed. He was too exhausted.
"What happened yesterday? You really scared me, Kurt."
Kurt had been expecting this question. It didn't however make it better when he was actually asked. He'd already had to lie to the school by saying he was ill. Blaine had seen him that morning though; he knew Kurt wasn't merely ill.
"Sorry Blaine. Just homesick, you know?" Kurt had gone over many other excuses for his behaviour, and this was the best one he could come up with. It was still bad.
"Please, Kurt. We're friends, right?" Blaine looked Kurt directly into the eyes.
Flicking his eyes away, Kurt nodded. Yes, we were friends. Just friends.
"Then please tell me what is wrong. It isn't homesickness. You had that the first few weeks you got here and it was nothing like this. When Jack bumped into you in the corridor, you... you flinched away and freaked out. That isn't right Kurt. Please, let me help you." Blaine has the most caring sincere look in his eyes. Kurt wanted to tell. But he couldn't. Blaine wouldn't look at him the same way when he knew.
"It really is just homesickness. You'll just have to believe me." Kurt tried to make his voice sound certain, but even to himself it sounded weak.
"Well how about I come back with you this weekend?" Blaine asked, still looking straight into Kurt's eyes.
He will have seen the panic there. Kurt was close to hyperventilating. He couldn't go home. Home was Lima. Kurt couldn't go to Lima. He couldn't. He tried to catch his breath.
"I have too much work."
"Don't be silly. You miss everyone. We will go, see everyone and I'll help you with your homework. How does that sound?" Blaine saw the panic, but of course he didn't understand. How could he know?
Kurt felt the tears; the weight; the numbness; the pain in his stomach. But then worse, He flashed back to the memories of last weekend.
"No, I c-can't." He stuttered.
Blaine was extremely confused.
"Kurt. You should really go home if it's bothering you this much."
Kurt had lost it. Lessons were finished and they were doing their homework in the library, but Kurt didn't care as he yelled at Blaine.
"I can't go! Leave me alone." He felt the moisture escape his eyes and cascade down his checks.
Blaine didn't leave. He moved to wrap an arm around the boy.
Kurt flinched at the contact, nearly falling off his chair.
"P-please, D-don't make me g-go." He wasn't shouting now. He was begging. He sounded so small and helpless. Blaine's heart broke.
"I won't make you go, Kurt. I won't make you go."
Blaine kept Kurt in his arms, rubbing soothing circles into the crying boy's back.
"I-I can't go. I can't."
People were looking over at the commotion so Blaine decided to try and get Kurt back to his room.
"Come on Kurt. I'll get you to your room."
It was as hard as Blaine thought it would be. Kurt was just there in body. His tears had stopped and he looked lost.
As Blaine practically carried the younger boy to his room, he thought over the strange behaviour he had had lately. When Kurt transferred, he told Blaine everything from Karofsky's kiss to his mother's death. He truly believed they were close. He seemed to be getting better. But then last weekend, something changed.
Yesterday he was different. He wasn't himself at all. He slept in, didn't contribute to their conversation, didn't listen in class and finally flinched away from someone in the corridor and ran away.
Had Karofsky beaten him up again? Blaine couldn't see anything, but the uniform covered up a lot.
He felt like he could literally kill him. Kurt had been getting better.
Karofsky hurt the boy he lov-liked. Even mentally he hadn't admitted he loved the younger boy. The point was, Blaine cared for Kurt in every way. And now he was hurt.
Finally reaching the room, Blaine laid the boy onto his bed.
He wasn't sure what to do. Should he leave and get a teacher? Stay to watch him and make sure he doesn't get worse? His thoughts must have been clear in his expression.
"Will you stay with me, please?" It was the same vulnerable voice. Blaine felt it cut through his heart.
"Of course." Blaine promised.
He moved closer to the bed and rested a hand on the boys arm. Kurt didn't flinch this time; he actually leant into the contact. Taking this as an okay, Blaine lay beside Kurt on the queen sized bed. He left a decent distance between them, their only contact Blaine's hand.
"P-please, Blaine." Kurt asked.
"What do you want, Kurt? I'll do anything."
Tears fell from Kurt's eyes again,
"Will y-you hold me." Kurt asked, closing his eyes as if waiting for rejection.
"Always."
Blaine wrapped the arm resting on the other boys arm around his back. Shifting slightly he moved his other arm to tangle his fingers into the boy's soft hair. He then pulled Kurt closer; their bodies flush against each other.
Kurt's sobs intensified. He brought his own arm around Blaine's waist and held on as if for dear life.
Blaine whispered word of comfort until he fell into a fitful sleep. Watching the boy look so broken in his sleep, Blaine finally drifted of himself.
"P-please. Let me go. Stop!"
Kurt thrashed around in Blaine's arms, waking up the older boy almost immediately. Kurt had his eyes squeezed tight, fighting off someone who wasn't there.
"Kurt! It's me Blaine." He turned towards the distressed boy and attempted to wake him. His calls just got worse.
"Come on baby. Please wake up." Blaine didn't notice the slip; he was only focused on the boys pained face.
He shook Kurt by the shoulder lightly. Finally the boy opened his tearing eyes.
Kurt, realising it had just been a dream, buried his face into Blaine's chest. He took deep, soothing breathes in of the boy's unique, comforting scent and calmed down enough to stop the sobs wracking his body.
Kurt didn't notice at first, but Blaine had been whispering words of comfort and wrapped his own arms around the younger boy.
Kurt had never felt so loved by someone other than his parents.
He soon felt how exhausted he was, and it was too easy to fall asleep in the safe embrace.
Blaine watched the boy sleep. He was extremely worried about the younger boy. He had been acting different and he finally broke down. Kurt had obviously been keeping things in and not telling Blaine. He wished the boy would have come to him, told him as soon as whatever happened, happened. Kurt thought he could cope, but he really couldn't. It must be bad. The boy was so strong; he wouldn't break like this for nothing.
Blaine couldn't sleep. He wanted to help Kurt, but what could he do?
Blaine decided to sing him a song from one of his favourite artist at the moment. It was uncanny how well it fit. He barely lifted his voice above a whisper, hoping to not wake the boy.
Share with me the blankets that you're wrapped in,
because it's cold outside. It's cold outside.
Share with me the secrets that you kept in,
because it's cold inside. It's cold inside.
Blaine wanted to know what happened this weekend. The boy seemed so broken when he came back. He doesn't want to know because he's mildly curious and/or nosey. He wants to know so he can help the countertenor.
And your slowly shaking finger tipsshow,
that your scared so,
let's pretend we're alone.
And I know you may be scared,
and I know you're unprepared,
but I'll always care.
Kurt was petrified of something. Having nightmares, and flinching away from touch; it didn't suggest anything good. Blaine didn't want to believe the scenarios he was sub-consciously making up, but nothing else fit. Tell me tell me,
what makes you think that you are invincible.
I can see it in your eyes that you're so sure.
Please don't tell me that I am the only one that's vulnerable.
Impossible.Why didn't the boy come to him straight away? He normally told Blaine everything. The young boy thought he could deal with it himself. Hopefully he realised now he couldn't.I was born to tell you I love you.
Isn't that a song already?
I get a B in originality.
And it's true I can't go on without you.
Your smile makes me see clearer.
If you could only see in the mirror, what I see.Blaine loved Kurt. There, he'd said it. His eyes, his courage, even his 'Diva' ways made Blaine fall further in love every second. The boy helped Blaine so much without knowing. Blaine had to help him back now. And your slowly shaking finger tipsshow,
that your scared so,
let's pretend we're alone.
And I know you may be scared,
and I know you're unprepared,
but I'll always care.Blaine loved the melody here so much. He couldn't blast it out like he wanted to, but it still sounded amazing. Tell me tell me,
what makes you think that you are invincible.
I can see it in your eyes that you're so sure.
Please don't tell me that I am the only one that's vulnerable.
Impossible.Kurt's face relaxed as the song went on. Somehow his unconscious getting comfort from Blaine's voice.Slow down boy, I'm not going anywhere.
Just wait around and see.
Maybe you're much more; you never know what lies ahead.
I promise you can be anyone, you can be anything.
He would do anything for Kurt, anything.
Just because you were hurt doesn't mean you shouldn't bleed.
You can be anyone, anything. I promise I can be what you need.These lines were so true. Kurt needed to cry right now, he would wait until the boy was ready to tell him. He would never push him. And when he was ready, he would be there.Tell me tell me,
what makes you think that you are invincible.
I can see it in your eyes that you're so sure.
Please don't tell me that I am the only one that's vulnerable.
Impossible.
It the end of the chorus, he voice was barely audible.
He felt exhausted. He couldn't help but think what Kurt must be feeling like is he slipped in unconsciousness.
Kurt felt delirious. He was in his room, but someone was beside him. The nights events came flooding back to him suddenly. He felt like he couldn't breathe. Panic was rising quickly in his chest; his mind whirling with dread. Blaine will definitely know something's wrong.
He checked himself to make sure his cuts were covered. They had slept in their uniforms. Good, that meant the sleeves would have stayed over his wrists.
Blaine was holding Kurt securely. He liked that. It felt good in his arms. He wasn't numb or panicked, just calm. Blaine had his arms wrapped around Kurt's waist. They must have moved in the night as Kurt's back was pressed tightly against Blaine's chest.
Kurt could feel Blaine's warm breath on the back of his neck. His skin tingled.
That was weird; Kurt felt something other than pain.
Blaine moved in his sleep, allowing Kurt to untangle himself from in between the strong arms. Looking at the beautiful boy asleep on his bed, Kurt felt a pang that this would be the only time this happened.
He collected some clothes and his towel before quietly walking to the bathroom. The doors were pretty sound proof so Kurt wasn't worried about waking the other boy up.
Slipping off his clothes, Kurt carefully folded them into a neat pile even though they were already extremely creased from sleeping in them that night.
In the shower he simply let the water flow over his body, washing away the feeling of hands on his skin. As he felt the feeling of dirtiness leave his limbs, he tried to think a way out of the mess he was in. Blaine had to be sure something was wrong. Normal people didn't cry and wake up from nightmares. He didn't know how much he was willing to tell Blaine. No one knew, and he wanted it remain that way.
Maybe he could tell Blaine he had bumped into Karofsky and the bullying was a bit worse. That could work, and it was half true.
Something in him though, didn't want to lie to Blaine.
Kurt looked down at his marred legs and wrist. Shame overwhelmed him and he broke down into tears. He couldn't hold himself up anymore, his legs were trembling and his head felt incredibly light. He rested his weight against the wall of the shower and let himself slowly slip down to the base of the shower.
Sobs wracked his body as he tried to break himself from the numbness being cast over his limbs. Here it was, the lack of feeling he felt accustomed to now.
He saw the single-blade razor lying innocently on the shower shelf; he didn't even let himself think before it was in his hand and making cut after cut from his wrist to elbow. He still couldn't feel anything, so he kept going. Soon both his left and right arm was dripping with fresh blood. There must have been over one hundred cuts scattered up each of his arms. The self-inflicted wounds weren't deep at first, but he saw how each cut got slightly deeper and deeper. After five more sweeps of the blade, Kurt was dizzy and felt himself going in and out of consciousness.
"Kurt!"
Coming to his senses, Kurt heard a continuous loud banging on the bathroom door.
How long had he been in here?
Kurt felt faintly ill at the sight of the blood that hadn't been fully washed away by the still running shower. Standing up, he felt how weak he was and leant against the wall to keep himself steady while he washed his skin and the shower walls down. The cuts on his arms stung more now as the water cascaded over them, than they did when he was making them. But he was thankful for that. Pain was better than being numb.
"Kurt!"
He had completely forgotten about Blaine in the other room. Hurriedly, he turned off the shower and dried off with a towel.
"Two secs!" He shouted back.
Then Kurt started panicking. What was he going to wear?
He couldn't put on the things he had been wearing to sleep in, it was school soon and he would never get away with that level of creases, but he couldn't go out in his towel, his arms were on display.
"All my clothes are in there," he shouted through the door, "you go get dressed in your room and we will talk after school."
Blaine didn't seem happy by this plan, but he knew it was logical and soon agreed.
"Fine, but you will talk to me Kurt. You're not getting out of this."
Kurt groaned as he heard Blaine close the door after him. He still hadn't thought of what he was going to say.
It was only around fifteen minutes to first lesson, so Kurt quickly let himself out of the bathroom to get ready.
*Knock Knock* "Sorry, I forgot my tie on yo..."
Kurt had just pulled his boxers on when Blaine came flying in through the door. To be fair, Blaine probably thought Kurt was still getting dried off in the bathroom, but he wasn't, he was in the middle of his room with all his cuts on display.
"Kurt-"Blaine's voice echoed with pain and his eyes filled with tears.
He'd seen.
Kurt reached for the towel off his bed to cover himself, but it was too late.
Blaine turned to lock the door so they weren't interrupted before slowly making his way over the Kurt who was frozen to the spot.
"Kurt, what have you done?" His eyes were welling up with tears as he took in the red lines across Kurt's arms and thighs. He felt like he couldn't breathe. How could he have let the boy do this to himself? Why was he only seeing this now? The signs were clear. Blaine had failed Kurt.
"N-nothing. It's nothing Blaine. You should go; you're going to be late for class." Kurt stuttered, backing past his chest of drawers, looking desperately for an escape.
"Fuck class, Kurt! You have got to talk to me; I'm so worried about you." Blaine rarely lost his temper, but Kurt couldn't keep this to himself. He needed help.
Blaine was now only centimetres away from the broken boy, who was nearly flat up against the wall, trying to get as far away from the older boy as he could.
"Blaine, please. Just go." His voice wasn't even a whisper. Blaine had never seen someone look so sad without actually crying.
"No Kurt. I'm helping you whether you like that fact or not." He reached forward to uncross the thinner boy's arms so he could see the cuts again.
The second Blaine touched Kurt's wrists, his back touched the wall. At the pressure, the younger boy broke down and started screaming, trapped in a flash back.
It started out as a normal day. Kurt was ecstatic to be home. He had missed his dad, his friends, and even Finn. He woke up in his own bed and fifteen thousand thread count Egyptian cotton sheets feeling more rested and happy than he had in what seemed ages. Yes, he was glad to be at Dalton, but he missed his own house and room and friends.
Everything was still great up until lunch. He ate with his family and was catching up with some urgent school work most of the morning, and he felt relaxed at the normality.
It went wrong however, when he went out for supplies for a girly night in. He is in no way a woman, but he wouldn't give up his sleepovers with the girls for anything. He needed a good catch up every now and again, and most importantly, a good face mask, so he went out for beauty supplies, comfort food and everything else essential for a successful sleepover.
He was only just down the street when he bumped into none other than Karofsky. Of course the bully had him blocked. He had backed him down one of the darker, rarely populated off-streets.
"Seems fag can't stay away from me" The bully sneered.
"Fuck off, Karofsky. Leave me alone."
"Oh, fairy has got his attitude back. What's it like at gay school? Bet you've shagged everyone in the place like the slut you are."
"Just let me go Karofsky." Kurt was getting more nervous by the second. The jock kept getting closer to him, effectively pressing him up against a wall. He knew if it came down to force, Kurt was not getting out of this.
"No, slag. It's my turn."
Karofsky placed his hands at either side of Kurt's arms, giving him no chance of getting away. He then, before Kurt realised what was happening, forcefully crushed his lips into the smaller boys'.
Kurt now understood what the bully was doing. Dread turned his blood cold and he felt his heart pounding out his chest. He had to get away.
Kurt started struggling against the larger boy, but he moved his hands to hold the slight boy's hands above his head and the grip was too strong. If Kurt tried to get out of it, he would break his arms.
"P-please. Let me go." Kurt begged. Kurt Hummel never begged.
"Don't act like you don't want this." He jeered.
Moving Kurt's hands in his above him, he put both of the thin wrists into one of his large hands and pressed them against the wall to give him a free hand to explore the thin boy's body with.
Kurt felt ill. His arms were already aching and the soft touches were repulsing him. This was not how his first time was meant to be.
He kept struggling in the jocks grip; he wasn't going to go down without a fight.
Karofsky's hand reached the front of Kurt's pants. He started roughly palming the soft member in his hand.
"What's up? I know you're enjoying this princess."
"S-stop. Please, just g-get off me." Kurt had started crying now. There was no way out of this.
Kurt's distress just seemed to encourage Karofsky more.
"Stop moving!" The older boy ordered. Kurt didn't. He knew it was no use, but he wasn't going to give up.
Karofsky slammed the singers head into the wall, making him see stars.
"Now behave or it will be harder next time."
Kurt froze. He didn't want brain damage. What he needed to do, was wait until Karofsky dropped his arms so he had a chance of getting away. It went against every other thought in Kurt's mind, feeling it was only going to make things worse, but he stopped his struggle.
"Good little slut." Karofsky mocked before unbuttoning the front of Kurt's pants in his free hand. Giving up on his attempts to get the other boy hard, he flipped the smaller boy round so he was now facing the wall. His face was pressed into the rough bricks and he felt his legs get kicked apart.
Kurt's hands were still being held above his head, and he realised Karofsky wasn't going to drop them. He was just about to start struggling again when he felt a finger ghost over his entrance.
Kurt felt all the wind leave his lungs. This was really happening.
He heard the sound of another zipper being opened echo around the eerie back street.
Kurt couldn't move, he was stuck where he was, not able to comprehend the situation he was in. Panic was thick in his stomach and he felt like he was going to throw up. He was painfully aware of every movement the jock made behind him.
"Don't be quite, babe. I want to hear you scream my name."
Kurt knew this was his last chance.
"Let me g-go. I won't tell anyone, I promise. P-please."
A short mocking laugh was Kurt's only reply before a hard length was pushed forcefully into his entrance, no preparation, no anything.
Tears streamed down the smaller boy's face as he screamed in pain. He was given no time to adjust to the size before he was being vehemently slammed into the wall with hard thrusts.
Kurt's blood acted as lubricant, but if anything, it just hurt more.
Karofsky was whispering how he was his 'good little whore' and 'only his slut' in the singer's ear as he continued forcefully plunging into the other boy's tight hole.
After what seemed forever to Kurt, Karofsky finally came with one last deep thrust.
Pulling out, he dropped Kurt's arms, laughing as the small boy fell to the ground, unable to hold himself up.
"See you around princess." He chuckled after tucking himself back into his pants.
He then left, leaving Kurt on the cold, dirty floor.
"Kurt! Kurt!"
He felt himself on the floor shaking, but he couldn't control his actions. With the flashback and his recent loss of blood, Kurt felt light headed. He couldn't do anything other than slip to the floor and try breathe. He could feel himself about to faint. He'd never collapsed before, but the nausea and cold-sweat suggested nothing else. Blaine's panicked voice started to fade, and he could no longer stand to keep his eyes open from the way the room was spinning and blurring before him. His heart was pounding out of his chest and found difficulty in taking in a sufficient amount of breath.
He suddenly felt his arms and legs being moved for him, putting him into the position of his head resting between his knees. He found it easier to breathe in as the foreign sensations began to dramatically subside.
He felt as if he could lift his head now, but he didn't want to see Blaine's face. He didn't want to see the disgust, the confusion, the disappointment.
"Kurt, you are scaring me. I don't want to leave you, but if you don't talk to me I'm going to have to go get the nurse."
Kurt panicked again at this, but he knew it was a reasonable request from the older boy. Somewhere inside himself, Kurt knew he could trust Blaine. Hell, he knew he would probably help him. But he knew all hope of ever finally being with him would be smashed. Because who would want to be with someone as damaged as him?
"Blaine... I..." Kurt started in a soft, scared voice.
"It's okay Kurt, you can tell me." Blaine's eyes were so sincere, so caring, that Kurt was persuaded to tell him. Even at the thought of being able to tell someone reduced his anxiety and tension.
"Can we move to somewhere comfier?" Kurt tried to joke. The smile didn't look right on his face, but Blaine humoured him and guided them to the bed. After handing the younger boy the dressing gown hung on his door, he left a small space between them to make Kurt comfortable. He was, however, close enough to lean over and hold him if he needed to.
Kurt stared down at the bed sheets as he gratefully took the dressing gown and wrapped it securely around him. He held the ends as if they would protect him against the story he was about to relive again.
Finally, Kurt looked up to Blaine's warm expression and let himself let go of the burden he'd been fighting these last few days.
"When I went back this weekend, I-I was attacked. It wasn't like all the times before though, Blaine. I was... I-I..." Kurt's voice broke as he tried to scramble for the word he couldn't even say in his head.
"It's okay Kurt, breathe"
A few more seconds went by, but they felt more like hours to Kurt. After three deep breaths, Kurt found the courage.
"I was raped"
Kurt's voice was so low and quiet that Blaine thought he had misheard the younger boy. He wished so hard he hadn't heard correctly. He tried to control his expression and show Kurt he would be strong for him, but he couldn't. In a flash, Blaine had pulled the crumbling boy into his arms and wiped away the escaping tears.
"It's okay. It's okay. It's going to be okay, Kurt. It's okay." Blaine repeated over and over again. Somehow, if he said it enough, Blaine thought that it would come true.
As Kurt lay in Blaine's strong, encouraging embrace, he recounted the whole thing. With comforting touches and words, Kurt got through the terrifying ordeal, and finally felt clean. He had let go of the secret, and the relief was overwhelming.
Kurt was exhausted. Bothboys were exhausted. The sheer amount of emotions felt in the last hour was enough to tire anyone out. Feeling safe for the first time that week, Kurt felt himself drifting off to sleep. Blaine followed soon after, vowing to piece the perfect boy in his arms back together.
"Come in with me." Kurt begged outside the counsellor's room.
Blaine avoided the younger boy's hypnotic stare. He wanted to be there in the room with him, but Kurt needed to be able to feel free to say whatever he wanted and needed in there without worrying how it will affect or sound to Blaine. Even though Kurt protested it wouldn't happen, he didn't want any animosity between them. Kurt had told Blaine the whole story; he had even been the one to retell the story to Kurt's father. He had waited patiently outside the police station as Kurt and Burt reported the attack, and held Kurt through the night as the nightmares tormented him. He didn't want it to get suddenly too much for Kurt, to feel smothered and trapped every time they were together because Blaine was somehow a reminder of the past.
Blaine squeezed the delicate hand placed in his own, and looked Kurt in the eye.
"You, Kurt, are the strongest person I know. You can do this, and if you get in there and feel you can't, I'll be right out here."
"Thank you." Kurt said with a smile which told Blaine he just needed a little confidence.
"You're welcome. Now get your arse in there so we can put on a movie and eat popcorn with golden syrup and sprinkles." Blaine said to lighten the mood.
"Sprinkles, Blaine. Really? You still insist on putting them on popcorn when you nearly choked on one last time?"
Blaine feigned a wounded look. "Sprinkles are the best part though." He sulked.
Kurt let out a melodic, free laugh. It was the first time since the incident Blaine had heard such an untainted, happy emotion burst from Kurt.
"I love you, Kurt." Blaine said without thinking. Before the panic and terror could reach his expression, Kurt spoke.
"I love you, too." Kurt said with a delighted smile and a twinkle in his eye.
"Kurt? The doctor is ready for you."
Kurt's face dropped at the intrusion, and the worry lined his face once again.
"Like I said, I'll be right here."
After kissing Blaine lightly on the check, Kurt pulled his hand out of the comforting hold and kept his head held high as he walked through the open door opposite them.
"The Jury find David Karofsky... Guilty of all charges."
Forgetting court rules, the people in the gallery released cheers of relief and triumph. A wave of success hung in the air as they watched the defendant being guided out into a back room, knowing they wouldn't see his face for many years to come.
Kurt turned to Blaine with tears in his eyes; but these were happy tears. Throwing himself into Blaine's arms, the younger boy felt the weight on his chest finally lift.
Everything was going to be okay.
Kurt stirred in bed due to something tickling his arm. Opening his eyes, he found it wasn't something, but someone.
"Stop, Blaine." Kurt said edgily.
He was laid beside Kurt, admiring Kurt's slender arms in the morning sunlight peeking through small gap in the curtains. Dust motes floated in the rays, circling mindlessly. The light reached across the room, over the carpet, over the bed, over Kurt's pale arms. In this light, the marks of each heartbreaking story were visible on the expanse of his arm. Each thin, whiter than white line was as noticeable as daylight.
Blaine's smooth finger traced each mark; each scar; each story.
"They are disgusting Blaine" Kurt said trying to pull his arm away.
"No they're not." He replied as if that was obvious.
"It shows how weak I was, Blaine." He says, stopping struggling and looking intently at the swirling dust.
"No, Kurt look at me, these do not show weakness. They show the complete opposite! Each line has its own story; each one shows how strong you were that day to not end it all. They show how much you struggled, how much you had to overcome, and how strong you have become. You are not the same person you were then; you found that strength within you and got past the terrible paths life threw you. These are beautiful Kurt, and you are beautiful. Never forget that."
Blaine's penetrating gaze broke down the disbelief in Kurt's mind and gave him a different way to look at the permanent marks on his skin.
"Why does it seem you're always the one comforting me and making me feel so much better?"
"Because that's what I'm here for, and I wouldn't have it any other way."
Blaine found Kurt's hand, beneath the table. Holding hands may seem like an innocent gesture to most people, but they show more than a simple interlocking of fingers. Your hands are one of the most essential parts of your body: you build with them, feed with them, hold with them, touch with them, and fight with them; they are the tools of the human body. To take a hold of another's hand is to break from living individually. It is to link yourself to another being, to momentarily entwine your life with another's, to promise, for a moment, that you need not face the world alone. More simple, more aesthetically naive than other forms of affection, the act of holding hands is often trivialised in its true implications, but Kurt and Blaine treasure each and every loving touch and gaze.
They look out at all the people sat around, chatting amongst themselves and getting lost in the euphoric mood, and they've never been happier. Kurt and Blaine Anderson-Hummel were starting their new life together, and only pure love, joy and hope for the future crowded their minds. The past no longer mattered. There may still be a nightmare or small reminder, but it was manageable together.
Kurt squeezed his husbands hand tightly, smiling wider than Blaine had ever seen him do so before. They both deserved this; complete happiness. Neither would take it for granted, take each other for granted. They loved one and other beyond what the average person could even begin to comprehend.
Everything was okay now, because they were together; forever.
Authors Note: Yeah, I wrote that. Please don't hate me too much, it was a happy ending!
I hope you all enjoyed this, I haven't written anything in a while due to so much school work, but I needed a break. Con-crit is completely welcome.