Memories we'd wish we never had
Blaine thought it wasn't going to happen. The Sadie Hawkins dance was over, with Sam and Tina, he had just finished overseeing the cleanup, and they were all ready to go home. He honestly thought it would have been fine, that he would go home, and Sadie Hawkins wouldn't just have to be this awful memory from his past anymore. He never knew how wrong he could be.
The parking lot was dark when he finally left the school, and empty. Tina had gotten picked up about 30 minutes ago, and Sam left with Brittany not 5 minutes later. Blaine was just finishing up storing some of the things they used at the dance. Even Coach Sylvester and Coach Beiste had gone home by now. He walked towards his car in the far end of the parking lot. It was slightly chilly out, and he was happy to have stored a coat and scarf in his locker for this night.
That was when he heard it. A car honked behind him, and the front lights blinded him for a second, and then he wasn't at McKinley anymore, he was at his old school, with Evan his date, and the car passing by wasn't about to pick them up.
He was standing with Evan near the side entrance to the school. A car picking up another couple drove past, its headlights blinding him for a second. When his eyes adjusted again, he saw a group of jocks walking over to them.
"Hey, Anderson!" yelled one of the burly kids walking up to him and Evan, "I didn't like seeing you in there today."
"Yeah, who would want to see a couple of fags spreading their crap all over our school?" said the slightly skinnier one.
Blaine could feel Evan tensing next to him. Unlike him, Evan usually kept to himself, and was very much under the radar in school, but Blaine wasn't. Blaine who endured days on end of the jocks teasing, pushing, and bullying him wasn't as tense as Evan was.
"Just leave us Kyle," Blaine tried. He thought a little reasoning might work, "We didn't do anything to you."
"You showed up where you weren't welcome, fag," the boy who had spoken first, Kyle, said, "And I think that you need to understand the message."
When the five other boys walked up to him and Evan and started pushing them back towards a wall, he knew this time, this time he had reason to be afraid. It wasn't until the knocked Evan to the ground that he realized this wasn't going to be just a couple of shoves.
"Leave him alone!" Blaine yelled, courage springing up from somewhere. 'Don't be the victim,' he'd always told himself.
"Oh look, a fag looking to protect its bitch." One of the other boys said, laughing, taking the time to push Blaine into the wall hard.
"For that he should get an extra round," Kyle said, and then with a smirk added, "What do you say guys?"
Blaine heard all the affirmatives, but he never expected the blow to his head. A punch that made his head hit the wall hard, made his ears ring, and his vision cloud. They'd hit his temple. Had it been a much stronger punch, he would be out cold. Then came the hit to his gut and the one on his back, and he was on the floor trying to cover his head and his face from the punches, and the kicks. At first he made only small sounds, but once they got going, the sounds became louder, his screams became louder. He could hear them hitting Evan as well, and he could hear Evan's scream, his pleas for them to stop. He heard another voice pleading. Himself. Begging for them to leave them alone.
It hurt everywhere; when it hurt breathing in, he knew they'd done some serious damage to his ribs. He never knew how long it lasted; he only knew how much it hurt. At one point he must have passed out, because the next time he opened his eyes he was in the hospital, his dad sitting in a chair by his bed. His father told him Evan was released a few days before, and that his family was already getting ready to move to Seattle. He also told him that he was sending Blaine to Dalton. Immediately.
Blaine blinked again, and watched as the other car drove away from where he was. He started shaking, and even when he was completely alone, it took him a few minutes to be able to walk over to his car and get inside. He locked his doors, and started the ignition. He was shaking too hard and knew he wasn't in a state to drive, but he couldn't do much of anything else if he was honest. He was remembering all the punches, and shoves, and kicks he suffered that night. Remembering all the pain. He didn't know how much time had passed before he was finally able to drive home.
He was never more content that his parents worked so much and travelled so often as this day. He didn't have to go under the scrutiny of a concerned parent. He went directly to his room, and closed his door, leaning back against it and then sliding to the ground. He brought his knees up to his chest, and started crying. Silently, his body shivering slightly. Soon the first sob broke, and then he just couldn't stop. For the first time in a long time, he cried for himself. For the boy who got beat up after a school dance because he was gay.
He woke up the next morning curled up on the ground. He stood and stretched, and went to his bathroom to take a shower. He put his tux in a dry cleaning bag and set it somewhere in his room. After that he sat down on his bed and just stayed there for a while, his headphones on, the music up, and his mind adrift. That was when he felt his phone vibrate next to him.
He had a call. From Kurt. He picked up immediately.
"Hey," Blaine said with a slightly hoarse voice –probably from sobbing the night before-
"Hi, how was the dance?" Kurt asked, not beating around the bush.
"It was good," Blaine said, flinching a little at the sound of his voice, "I had a good time going with Tina."
"That's nice, I guess from the sound of your voice I should have been able to tell." Kurt said, and Blaine just knew he was smiling.
"Yeah."
"Blaine?" Kurt said a little confused, "Is everything ok?"
"Yes, I'm fine."
"You're not."
"Kurt, please…"
"Tell me what's wrong."
"I-I…"
"Blaine, what happened?"
"I remembered…" Blaine said, and told him everything. About being the last to leave, about walking into the parking lot, and seeing the car, and remembering in vivid detail what happened at the last dance. He told Kurt that he cried himself to sleep, that he felt so incredibly alone.
"Blaine," Kurt started, "I need you to go down to the living room, and sit at the piano, can you do that?"
"Sure." Blaine said, not knowing where Kurt was going with this.
The living room was empty of people, but he walked over to his piano. It was a Steinway & Sons Model B Grand Piano, worth a lot of money, and probably Blaine's favorite possession in his home. It had been a gift from his father when he turned 12 and successfully played Pachelbel's Canon in D at a piano recital at his school. Blaine sat down in the seat, and lifted the fall of the keys.
"Are you there?" Kurt asked.
"Yes."
"Start playing."
"What do you want me to play?"
"Anything."
Going back to the memory of the recital, and the first melody he ever played in this piano, his hands started on Pachelbel's Canon. He played almost the entire thing, until his eyes were filled with tears, but he wasn't afraid anymore. He picked his phone back up and noticed Kurt's call was still connected.
"Hey." He said into the phone.
"Feeling better?" Kurt asked.
"Yeah," Blaine said, with a little smile, "Thank you."
"You told me that after it happened the first time, the only place you ever felt whole and happy was at that piano." Kurt said carefully.
"You remember that?"
"Of course I do," Kurt said, "It's not something I could ever forget."
"Thank you Kurt," Blaine said, "for this, for everything."
"Don't worry. You're my best friend Blaine," Kurt said, and after a small pause, "I will always be there for you."
Blaine had to resist saying he loved Kurt. It wasn't his place anymore, but he still felt it. He knew his crush on Sam was pretty much inexistent when he thought of Kurt. He still loved Kurt, he probably always would. Soon enough they found themselves talking about other things. Blaine had Kurt on speaker phone, as he played some keys on the piano. Eventually they ended the talk as Kurt had to go study or rehearse. Blaine stayed at the piano that afternoon. His mind much more relaxed than it was before. He realized that it wasn't fear what caused his panic attack the day before. He'd just never let those memory resurface in full since they'd happened. He'd been overwhelmed, but now, after finally letting them out, he felt their weigh lessen, their impact less harsh, and like most of his memories regarding bullying, they became noise in the background, static in the air. Sound his mind was filled by other memories, of spending a dance with his friends, enjoying himself. Of playing this very same piano, with a beautiful boy sitting next to him. He hoped, he would play for the boy again someday. Hopefully, one day soon.