So this is my first fanfiction since a very long time and I'm not sure how well this is going to be :) I have everything planned out so far, so I guess this one will be finished. ( I swear xD).

As you maybe saw in the short summary, this story has some heavy topics.

Trigger Warnings for:

Cutting/ Self harm

Eating disorders

Violence

swearing

depression

and abuse

If you feel triggered by some of these topics then please please please don't read this! There is enough fluff on this side to drown in ;)

The story itself is actually written in german and can be found here : s/8344324/1/Zweitgesicht

Sadly I'm not very skilled in english so the AWESOME EnchantedToReadYou translated the german version for me.

You can find her and her amazing Klaine / SasuNaru Stories here : u/2756533/EnchantedToReadYou ( you should visite if you like D/s relationships and Klainebastian... and lots of angst) - Thank you so much again! :D :D :D

So here's the prologue :

Kurt

The music caused the floor and the people standing on it to shake in time with the bass. People stood side by side, rubbing their sweaty, perfumed bodies on each other, while moving in a big mass equally to the music. The movements wanton and the gazes promising.

In the middle of the floor was Kurt, eyes closed, letting himself drift with the crowd. From every direction bodies rubbed on him and shoved him against others, who in turn repeated this game over and over. The music changed seamlessly over to the next song and let his heart beat heavily. The alcohol had left a stale aftertaste in his mouth and he tried to swallow it, when suddenly the mood changed. It seemed as if the floor began to tilt and he stumbled a little. Suddenly it was too warm, too narrow, too loud, too full.

Too much at once.

A pressing feeling rushed through his system and he opened his eyes to look a girl in the face, who was dancing in front of him, groping and pushing. Those touches burned his skin unpleasantly and he stepped back as much as was possible with this little space. She didn´t recognize him, only looked through him with glazed over eyes and a peaceful smile. Her dark hair clung to her sweaty face and her pupils were dilated, so that one could barely make out the thin stripe that was her blue iris. Her face told him she wasn´t really there.

´Drugs´, popped into Kurt´s head and for a short moment he wasn´t sure what to do. A strong arm grasped her waist and pressed her body against the person behind her. The man turned her head his way and kissed her open mouthed.

Kurt could vaguely remember that she had entered the club with friends; they had stood behind him, waiting in line. Eavesdropping, he had heard that it was their first time out clubbing. He doubted she had consensually taken the drugs. It was so easy slipping them to someone in the crowd. Without another glance at the girl, he turned around and tried to escape the warm crowd. Away, he wanted to be away from the oppressive confinement, the unreasonable compassion for the girl and the loud music that numbed his senses. But even gone from the dance floor, he couldn´t swallow the lump in his throat, it were too many people at once. Gripped by sudden panic, he hurried to the women's bathroom and opened the door dynamically.

The flood of perfumed air hit him and made it difficult to swallow, but was a welcome distraction for his throat. The few girls that were in the bathroom let their conversation come to an end and eyed him from head to toe, before continuing. He wasn´t a threat for them, he was gay and the flamboyant kind at that. He had used the girls room since middle school, none of the girls had ever complained and everything was better than to be beaten up.

He passed the girls and locked himself into a cabin. With his hands burrowed in his complex styled hair, he sat down on a closed toiled seat and leaned on his knees. He didn't know himself what had happened on the dance floor. He had had fun, drank, danced and had tried to forget himself. That was exactly what he planned on doing every time. To forget himself in the crowd, drown his sorrow with alcohol and the escape his life for just few lousy hours. Being in the crowd for him meant not being alone, but for the first time since this realization, he questioned this thought. The oppressing feeling of loneliness, no matter how many people surrounded him, how close they were, couldn´t be shaken off. No matter how hard he tried to be part of the crowd, he felt isolated and discarded. In the cabin, he listened to someone violently vomiting, again and again, until the fingers couldn´t take any more. She flushed and left the cabin quickly. Only the smell of vomit remained.

He leaned back and closed his eyes. He didn't belong here, it was neither his scene, nor something he liked to do. This here was not him. Not the Kurt, his father thought he was, not the Kurt his mother knew. The nights were obligatory, he had to come or he wouldn´t be able to follow the conversation the next say. The status in the McKinley High was important. Either you were in or you weren´t. And if you belonged to the later, your life contained of bruises and ripped books.

Instead of letting the penetrating music destroy his eardrums, he preferred going to the theater and listing to musicals. Instead of ruining his voice with cigarettes and burning alcohol, he liked singing from the bottom of his soul and instead of dressing sexy, he liked to dress fancy and fashionable.

But those were thing he wanted, not the majority. And you had to listen to the group if you wanted to be in it. So Kurt went clubbing every week, drank, smoked, shoved his fingers down his throat and kissed strangers, who always demanded more than he was willing to offer. It was as if he acted on autopilot, sometimes he didn´t realize anything around him and spend a day without knowing what he had done in the evening. It wasn´t what he wanted, but it saved him a place in the group, that let him forget his loneliness for a moment.

The loneliness that had a hold of him since the death of his mother. She had been the only one who had understood him and always would understand him. Of course he had friends, even real friends, but they would never get what it meant to be him. Even the relationship with his father wasn´t what it once had been. Since he had started, conversations were strained and the dinners were quiet. They didn´t have anything to say to each other, even if Kurt internally cried for his father, he couldn't make a sound. And since Carole and Finn were part of their family, he as a son wasn´t worth anything. With a last sight he stood up from the toilet seat and went past some girls to exit the room.
The dance floor wasn´t an option any longer. One panic attack a night was more than enough and he had lost the desire to dance, if there had been any.

The bar was empty except for a few youths and in this moment exactly what Kurt needed. He had already drunken a bit, but the perspective of being unable to think sounded blissful to him. He sat down on a barstool and waited until the barkeeper noticed him.

Right before he could order anything he saw him and the air of his lungs escaped him as if he had been hit. He always had this effect on him.

He stood just a few feet away at a pillar and looked at him directly and shamelessly, the green-grey eyes twinkled in the flickering light and his mouth shaped into a smile that gave little hint of the teeth behind it. Kurt´s neck tingled and an unpleasant shiver let him shift forward. He quickly diverted his gaze and bit down hard on his lower lip. Of course he was here. He could find him anywhere, without exceptions and always took what he thought was his. It bordered on obsession. It had been stupid of Kurt to think he could escape him even for a single night. Escaping was futile, he had seen him already and he would probably follow him if he tried. And to be with him in a vacated place was the last thing Kurt wanted.

The only thing left to do was to give in. As he always did. Without paying the barkeeper any attention, who had asked him three times already what he would like to order, Kurt stood up and went into his direction. Behind the pillar was a niche covered by heavy curtains and in the darkness only slightly identifiable. He walked around the pillar and slipped into the dark niche, where he was greeted by an iron like grip on his wrist and a moist, alcohol smelling mouth.

Maybe, he thought, maybe he could fade out, if he just listened to the music. He closed his eyes and concentrated fully on the beat in hoped of being able to ignore the groping hands on his body and the foreign, penetrating tongue in his mouth- It was worth a try.

Blaine

The night was dark.

Too dark. The flickering lanterns given up on their service and they spend the streets only little light. The park wasn´t fat from the separated train station and the soft chatter of late nighttrains was the only thing that cut through the silence. It was their territory. The park, the paths, the streets. Everything belonged to them and was noticeably marked. Every space was covered in graffiti and objects destroyed to make that clear.

The warbler bird was everywhere and showed everyone on whose ground they were on. Misconceptions were nonexistent; if someone showed up it would be seen as a challenge and challenges were taken on without exceptions. Streetfights over a territory were not rare and when silhouettes appeared in the moonlight, Blaine wasn´t surprised. He was ready.

Some of the seated Warblers stood up provokingly slow as if the armored youth's weren´t dangerous.
"Look who had stumbled in our territory." Jeff does a welcoming gesture with both his hands."Come here.", he wore a sinister smile. The rest of the Warblers surrounded him and mocked them along with the blonde Warbler. Even if Jeff was the one who showed off the most, without the agreement of Wes, David and Thad, the leaders, he was only allowed to bark.

Wes, who had just played with a pocketknife, casually rose from the wall, he leaned against and pointed to the direction the intruders stood. These had formed a sort of line on whose peak a guy in the early twenties stood. The hands noticeable hidden in his pocket and a cigarette between his lips. His eyes were blood-shot and slightly dilated.

"Well, Jack, you know on whose territory you are at, don't you? Do you really want to face that?", Wes closed the pocket knife and drew on his cigarette. "You shitty birds kept this part for far too long as your territory." Someone else spat and stepped closer to Wes and the group.

"We thought we extend our territory and get rid of you at the same time. Kill two birds with one stone." His boys started laughing and uttered joyful cries.

Wes didn´t seem impressed and Blaine would have believed it, if it wasn´t for the twitching in his eyebrow and his clutched jaw.

"What is it; aren´t the sluts in your territory enough?" Jeff seemed to be in his highest form; he even took the otherwise permanently between his lips cigarette to put it out with his foot." We want a fight one-on-one." The boy of the opposite group then stepped closer, stupidly thinking he was tough, while Blaine would rather call it him having a death wish, until he stood in front of Wes. His eyes challenging.

"Sure, if you get rid of the weapon in your pocket, I´m in. We would want to have a fair little fight, don´t we?" Jacks eyelids narrowed. "Sure." He spat and pulled a shotgun out of his pocket. "This one?" He asked mockingly twirling it with his fingers. „Well I for one think I should use it, it would be a pity wasting it." He strengthened his grip and was about to point it at Wes, when pain shot through his hand and the shotgun skidded several feet away.

No one had noticed Blaine, who had seen through the situation early on and with incredible speed had kicked the weapon right out of Jack´s hands. Without giving Jack a second to adjust, he stroke out to hit his forehead with his fist. He cried out and tumbled a few steps back. His gang was stupefied for a few seconds, but then took this as the starting signal. Without further talking they ran toward the Warblers and mixed with them in a big fighting heap.

On the other hand they didn´t seem to be armored and had only slight chance to overpower them with weapon equipped Warblers. At the same time, three men sprang toward Blaine, who dodged the uncoordinated attacks while surprising them with blows at the same time. Years of martial art training and boxing had paid off; for such a small build he could do a lot of damage.

He was the bodyguard of Wes and David and had, just like on this night, saved their lives. While still dealing with the three boys that could barely keep themselves standing, he didn't notice someone creeping up on him from behind him. It took much to make Blaine lose himself so far, that he completely blacked out his environment. The over the years carefully build up wall of calmness and composure was so solid that it had survived many strokes of fate and attacks.

But an aimed kick to his lower back, that let him tumble back in pain, combined with wrath was what finally made his patience snap.

Forcefully he crouched down, supported his weight on the ground and kicked out sideways. He hit the boy in his kneecap, causing him to drop down like a dead body. And although Blaine was much smaller than his enemy, he managed to take him down with him, kept in position and knelt with his leg on the boy's chest. He grabbed his throat with his left hand and his mouth warped into a grimace-like smile. The person under him desperately tried to escape, but his movement weakened noticeably and a hand pulling Blaine forcefully away, was what probably saved his life.

Blaine´s back hit the ground and he starred with narrowed eyelids at the black-haired boy opposite of him. Before he could utter a word, he was pulled up by his collar and the angry brown eyes of Nick Duval meet his. "Don´t fuck this up. Do you want the cops to get wind of this? Pull your shit together!", he shook him a few times, before shoving him hardly.

Blaine exhaled a shaking breath and took in his surroundings for the first time. The fight was over, all of the boys of the enemy group were laying hunched over on the ground, with bleeding wounds all over their bodies, but definitely breathing. The three boys he had dealt with before the attack were only few feet away on the ground, he hadn´t noticed the Warblers taking care of them. With a tightly pressed shut jaw he let his eyes travel to the boy in front of him, who writhed on the floor, coughing and panting. His eyes were closed tightly and his hands scratched his neck, while he gasped for air not unlike a fish.

He had done that.

Blaine let his hand run through his hair and licked his dry and torn lips. The taste of blood made him sick and he grabbed for a cigarette that was buried in his pocked to calm his stomach. He had against lost his patience and his mind, something that seemed to occur more often lately and only grew in its intensity. With every time he got more frightened of himself. The other group members were busy with lifting the on the ground lying men of the weight of their weapons and money. The night was, apart from a soft laugh and scrape of shoes on dusty floor, quiet and the air seemed to stand still. Blaine lifted his eyes and saw Wes nodding at him approvingly before starting a conversation with David. He knew Wes was grateful to him and would pay him back someday. Blaine didn´t know what he could demand for that, but it was always better to be on the good side of the boss. The ´red bullets´ was just one of many gangs in this area and Jack just a little fish comparing to others. The Warblers were the strongest group for now, considering the last victories of the past weeks. It had been the fifth fight in the last three weeks the Warblers had endured without major injuries and as the winners.

Lima was a hostile little Hicksville and Blaine was almost sure that there would be many more he could lose the cramped feelings in his shoulders in.

Deep in thought he didn´t notice Nick putting his arm over his shoulders and only started reacting when the cigarette between his lips was taken, so that he could draw from it. "You´re changing again tomorrow, right?" he asked, exhaling through his nose again. Blaine grunted affirmative and stole back his cigarette. It wasn´t easy getting a hold of them in his situation and he wasn´t keen on letting Nick have all of them. "Some asshole has told on me to the director."

"And he believed it? For real? I mean, with your reputation it is astounding for someone to buy that.", Nick dropped his arm and snuggled into his jacket when the wind picked up. Both of them were already moving away from the alley the fight had took place at and walked down the dimly lit street. This area was seedy and most of the lamps were destroyed already. Fighting for Blaine and Nick was for a different cause than the drugs and money the rest of the Warblers cared about. Blaine was a boxer, but with time and building pressure, hitting a motionless sand sack wasn´t enough anymore. He tried with sparring partners but the rules of the sport prevented him from going further, which was something he desperately needed to do. Fighting without rules, man versus man, fist versus fist and without consideration of injuries and pain.

This silence was what compelled Blaine to come out at night on those streets in the end. It was strangely freeing, to let go on a body that defended itself and to receive a few hits for a change, that made the fights all the more intriguing. When he found the Warblers, or they found him to be precise, he knew he had found his place. The Warblers was a lose bunch where it concerned relationships between them, but all the more interlaced when it came to fighting. That was why Blaine never was in contact with them apart from Nick he spoke to from time to time. Nick was in a way just like him, rich family, misunderstood and abandoned. He was irritated. That was probably the reason they got along so well. They were no friends, but tighter than what one could call a friendship. "He fucking videotaped me with his phone. No clue how he got the information, he just stood there in the night, hid somewhere and recorded the shit.", a last drag and the fag was thrown on the ground.

"The director could barely believe his eyes, that it was in fact ME, but he had incriminating evidence. You should have seen the faces of my parents. My father looked like his head was about to explode and my mother as if she had swallowed a whole lemon." He laughed quietly and rough."Nowadays they have installed a new security system in our house and it could take some time before I get to hang out with all of you. First I have to find a way to dodge the cameras." He sighed and looked up at the sky. The moon hung high and he could make out lighter discoloration on the horizon. That was the clear sign for him to get home to get all the sleep he could. Coffee did not substitute sleep, no matter how much he drank of the one he drank the housemaid Fr. Lopez prepared for him every day.

With a slap on the back he ditched Nick and went on his way home. The called: "Break a leg tomorrow." by Nick was answered by a gesture over his shoulder.

To receive as little attention as possible he tried to have his ´antics´, as his father liked to call them, as far away from his home as possible. If he hurried back, he might get enough sleep before 3 am to face the rest of the day. His father wasn´t keen of Blaine´s nightly journeys but he had long ago given up trying to talk about it with him. Instead he liked to keep Blaine inside with security systems and threats and letting him get outside as little as possible. He was the black sheep of the family und endangered the carefully build reputation of the Andersons.

Although his family was more damaged, than everything he had ever seen, on the outside they were picture perfect and stable. The new, young secretary and the times she spend in his father´s office were accounted as overtime work and the constantly changing pool boy wasn´t even mentioned to their guests. Even Blaine´s sexual orientation was swept under the rug and that´s why he had to listen to the bickering of them at dinner parties when they mentioned how beautiful and talented their daughters were, when he would prefer to scream in their faces: "I like cock!"

And while Blaine was the black sheep of his family, his brother was the white one. Although he had moved out years ago, he couldn´t cope with them any longer he had told Blaine, he was still the hottest topic in all of their conversations.

He proudly told his mother how he had married his girlfriend and his father how great his career as an actor was going. And no matter how good Blaine was in school, how many trophies he received in several sports, he was never mentioned. When he was younger he had hated Cooper passionately but with the years hate had changed into compassion as he noticed how they suffocated him. Marrying Katherine was not what he was planning to do, neither was to study law, what he did before starting with acting. Even if he was not as restricted by his parents as Cooper was, he had to fit into the picture perfect image of his family. The secret motto of the Andersons was: As long as we are perfect on the outside, nothing else matters.

The sweet boy, polite, helpful, well dressed, always head over a book, top of the class, that was how his neighbors and acquaintances knew him. And that had to remain this way, if he wanted to stay in his house and if he wanted to get just a penny of his legacy. That he was naturally gifted was a good coincidence of course and made it easier to obtain his Persona. He was actually not an aggressive person, he loved Broadway, music and literature but someday it was all just too much. Where would singing about his feelings get him, if he couldn´t act on them? Nights like this were used as the outlet for his feeling, the ones he had suppressed in the days prior, so that he could act as Blaine Anderson on the next day.

For the last time today, he drew on his cigarette, let it drop and crushed it under his shoe before stepping into the dark house, in hopes of receiving any sleep and waking no one up.