I'm all for Blaine being the strong one, but Kurt needs his turn to be there for Blaine. I've seen a lot of stories, following "the kiss," about Blaine being abused and going to Kurt for help. As much as I love romance and happily-ever-after (I agree whole-heartedly with Kurt's line in "Blame It on the Alcohol" about 'sexy' being no more than a brush of the fingertips), all I seem to be able to write lately is angst. So, here's my attempt at an abused Blaine story, set after 'Original Songs.'
Eyes softened at the sight of his boyfriend standing beside him. Up there on stage, with Kurt, Blaine truly believed in the words he was singing.
I think I'll be alright. My life may be shitty at the best of times, but as long as I have Kurt, I'll survive.
The Warblers' two songs ended and Blaine pulled Kurt to him in a bone-crushing hug. Everyone was ecstatic—win or lose, they'd done their best. That was all anyone could ask.
They took their seats in the audience and watched as New Directions took the stage, Rachel standing alone and belting out a heartfelt ballad. During the next song, Blaine thought it was adorable when Kurt jumped to his feet, screaming, as New Directions reached the chorus of 'Loser Like Me.' Lately, Blaine had been noticing how everything Kurt said or did was adorable.
He winced slightly as Finn sang about being pushed against lockers and merely shaking it off, knowing that the songwriters had been talking about Kurt.
The competition over, the three competing teams stood together on stage, Blaine placing a reassuring hand on Kurt's shoulder.
At the news that New Directions had won, Blaine met Kurt's disappointed gaze with a 'What can you do' look, accompanied with a shrug of the shoulders.
Their loss at Regionals was a disappointment, but Blaine and Kurt would come out stronger for having each other.
As they left the stage hand-in-hand, they encountered Burt Hummel and his wife, Carole.
"Dad," Kurt said, voice wavering slightly from nerves, "you remember Blaine?"
"Blaine," Burt said with a curt nod.
"He's my boyfriend," Kurt announced.
"Sir, I'd like to apologize once more for over stepping my boundaries the other day. I had no right to ask you to talk with Kurt about sex," he heard said boy give an audible gasp, "and I realize what this must look like. Let me assure you, my intentions are purely honorable. I didn't understand what my feelings for your son were at the time that I came to talk to you. Now, however, I've realized that I love your son and I promise that I will never pressure him to do anything that would make him uncomfortable or that he isn't ready for."
He stood in silence, feeling Kurt give his hand a reassuring squeeze, while Burt regarded the two of them.
Blaine could feel himself sweating bullets. Why doesn't he say anything? Do I appear insincere? What does this mean for me…for Kurt…for us?
Burt finally spoke. "Blaine, I can see that your feelings for Kurt are genuine. Therefore, I accept your apology. You're right, you were overstepping, but I understand that it was out of concern for Kurt. I've seen the change my boy has gone through over the last few months and I have a hunch that he's happier because of you. But know that if you hurt him, I have a fully operable shotgun…"
"Okay, Dad," said Kurt, interrupting Burt's threat to Blaine and stepping between them. "I think you're the one overstepping, now," he warned.
Burt responded by holding out his hand for Blaine to shake. Blaine took it, being sure to have a firm grip. They broke apart to stand by their respective partners.
Carole spoke to Kurt, "Finn said that New Directions was heading to Breadsticks to celebrate. He invited you and Blaine to come along, if you want."
Blaine knew that Kurt had planned to bury Pavarotti when they got back to Dalton.
"That's very kind, Mrs. Hummel. But we have something to do when we get back to Dalton."
At Burt's suspicious look, Kurt spoke up, saying, "I have to bury Pavarotti. He died this week and I want to give him a proper burial."
Burt nodded in understanding. "Alright, kiddo. We'll see you this weekend?"
"Of course, Dad," said Kurt with an eye-roll.
"No funny business," said Burt to Blaine, before moving to embrace Kurt.
"Yes, sir," Blaine replied, respectful as ever.
" 'Burt' is just fine, or 'Mr. Hummel,' if you'd prefer."
"Thank you, Mr. Hummel," said Blaine.
"Goodbye, Kurt. Goodbye, Blaine," said Carole, moving to give each boy a hug.
Blaine gasped slightly at the contact. He was touchy-feely, but only from wanting to assure everyone he came into contact with that they were loved, something he hadn't had a lot of growing up. He wasn't used to his hugs being returned, except by his closest friends.
"Take care of Kurt," Carole whispered into his ear.
"I intend to, Mrs. Hummel," he said.
"You boys all did well. You should be proud of yourselves," Carole said after stepping back, with Burt nodding in agreement.
"Thank you, both," said Kurt, a genuine smile gracing his features. "See you soon."
The two boys watched as Burt and Carole walked away.
Blaine released a breath that he hadn't known he'd been holding. "Well, that went well." When he got no response, he turned to find Kurt staring at him. "What?" he asked, suddenly nervous again.
"You went to my dad and asked him to talk to me about sex?" he asked in a strangled whisper.
"Yes?" Blaine replied, nerves making his statement sound like a question.
Kurt huffed. "That was the most embarrassing conversation of my life—but I'm grateful to you. My dad proved again what an amazing guy he is by being so accepting and willing to learn."
"You're lucky," Blaine said, pulling Kurt into a hug.
"I know." Kurt stood back so he could see his boyfriend's face. There was a look of longing in Blaine's eyes. Kurt remedied that by capturing Blaine's lips with his. He sighed contentedly. "Still getting used to being able to do this whenever I want to," he admitted, leaning in for another kiss.
"Same here," said Blaine, returning the favor and kissing Kurt back.
Hearing several throats being cleared, they broke apart and turned to discover the Warblers' standing behind them, Wes and David at the front.
"If you're quite through," said Wes, trying to sound formal and failing due to the smile on his face, "it's time to head back."
Holding hands, Blaine and Kurt followed, making sure to get seats together.
Kurt slid in first, claiming the spot by the window, while Blaine claimed his spot next to him, resting his head on his boyfriend's shoulder.
He spent the time thinking of his and Kurt's relationship, how Kurt had never given up on him and had continued to care, even when Blaine had become more human in Kurt's eyes and more of his flaws had become exposed.
Throughout the bus ride, Blaine and Kurt stole kisses when they could, enjoying this new factor in their relationship. They were already close and had been from the first day when Blaine had grabbed Kurt's hand. Now, they could lean over and kiss the other whenever they wanted to.
Blaine shut his eyes in contentment. He could picture his and Kurt's future—not necessarily the when and where, but he could see that they would have a future; they wouldn't fall apart like other couples. They would fight to stay together.
Next thing he knew, Kurt was shaking him awake, saying, "Blaine, we're here."
Groggily, Blaine opened his eyes and stumbled down the bus steps, turning to grab Kurt's hand as they walked into Dalton.
Kurt lowered his eyes, as though afraid to believe in reality, that he was really with Blaine and that Blaine really wanted him.
"Hey," said Blaine, catching Kurt's chin with his hand and tilting his face up so they were level. "What's wrong?" he asked when he noticed the sheen of tears threatening to fall from his boyfriend's eyes.
"It's just…," Kurt began struggling for words.
Blaine held them back from the other Warblers so that they could be alone. He gently pulled on Kurt's hand, encouraging him to follow in a walk around campus. They ended up beneath a scraggly tree, the very same one that Blaine had visited numerous times when he first came to Dalton.
Blaine sat and tugged on Kurt's hand till he sat as well.
"This used to be my spot," he explained. "When I first came to Dalton, I was confused, lost. I'd just run from my bullies and I didn't know anyone. So, I came here to be by myself and think. I purposely isolated myself, and that's another of my many regrets. I'm glad that I can share this place with you, Kurt," he finished, giving Kurt's hand a reassuring squeeze.
"Thank you, Blaine," Kurt replied, bending to rest his head on Blaine's shoulder.
"Now, what's troubling you?" asked Blaine.
"I'm upset that we lost Regionals. I really wanted to win. I felt that I had something to prove, to the Warblers, to New Directions, even to myself and to you. New Directions tied at Sectionals—without me. Now, they've won Regionals—again, without me. And then the Warblers lost—with me as a member. I feel as though I'm a curse, frightening everyone and everything away."
Blaine opened his mouth to protest, but Kurt kept talking, "Just now, getting off the bus, I looked down at our hands and I couldn't believe my luck. That someone as amazing as you would ever consider being with someone like me…it's incredible. And I don't want to lose that, I don't want to lose you. But I can't help but be afraid, when it seems like all I ever do is make a mess of things."
Blaine was silent for a moment, taking in all that Kurt had said.
"Kurt," he began. "I want you to listen to me very closely. You are not a curse. You are a wonderful person that anyone would be lucky to know. I'm luckier than most, in that I have you all to myself. Even then, I wonder if I'm enough for you. I have no experience in romance; I have baggage that I'm afraid of burdening you with." At this, Blaine's mind flashed to his father. "I get scared too. I'm scared that you'll find someone better and leave me on my own again. I waited so long before telling you of my feelings, almost too long. I shudder to think of what might have happened if I'd let any more time go by."
Kurt broke in with, "I would still be here, waiting for you."
They held each other's gaze, before Blaine continued, "As for losing Regionals—that had nothing to do with you, in regards to either the Warblers or New Directions. Both groups would have benefitted from using your unique voice long before this performance. If the Warblers had given you a solo at Sectionals, we would have won rather than tied. As for New Directions, they won using original songs, and damn good ones at that, making them pretty hard to beat. We did our best, that's all that anyone can ask."
Kurt met Blaine's eyes with a watery smile.
"You're special, Kurt. Never doubt that," Blaine whispered as they leaned closer together. "And no matter the circumstances, I will always be here for you…as a friend, as a lover…however you want me, I'm yours. I will always fight for you and for us."
With his final vow, Blaine closed the gap and joined his lips with Kurt's.
The boys lost track of how long they sat under the tree, sometimes kissing, sometimes lying in each other's arms, sometimes talking, and sometimes basking in the silence.
It wasn't until Blaine got a text from Wes saying that curfew was in a few minutes that they realized how late it was.
"We should head back," said Blaine regretfully, wanting to spend more time alone with his boyfriend.
"Yeah," Kurt agreed.
They stood, dusting off their pants, before clasping hands and heading inside.
At their bedroom doors, they separated. Being the lead singer had some perks, as Blaine had a single room. Kurt, having transferred in the middle of the year, also got a room to himself. By chance, both rooms were next to each other. For fun, Blaine and Kurt had developed a system of knocks to communicate through the walls.
After going through his moisturizing routine, Kurt went to the wall and gave the knock that meant "Good night." The reply was instantaneous.
Turning down the covers, they each settled into bed, thoughts of the boy next door invading their mind.
The weeks flew by and before anyone knew it, summer was upon them.
Blaine and Kurt had been together for several blissful weeks. They'd stayed strong, even when Kurt became stressed about finals, snapping if someone even looked at him the wrong way. And when Blaine became so scatterbrained that he had a meltdown when he thought he'd lost his bottle of hair gel, Kurt fought back his laughter and pointed Blaine in the direction of the bathroom sink, where his hair gel always was and would always be.
The last day of school was bittersweet for Kurt. He'd made some wonderful friends at Dalton. Despite a rocky start, he counted Wes and David as two of his best friends, after Blaine and Mercedes, of course.
Blaine was dreading the summer. Not only would he not get to see Kurt every day, but he'd have to go home to his father. Blaine still held painful memories of the summer his dad had tried to turn him straight by fixing a car together.
The two boys clung to each other, Burt having given them a moment to say goodbye.
"Why does it feel like this is the end?" asked Kurt.
"I know what you mean," said Blaine with a wry grin, though, granted, his reasons were surely different from Kurt's. "We'll be together soon, Kurt. This isn't forever. We can drive to meet each other for coffee, just like always, and we can get together with New Directions and the Warblers. This'll be a great summer, you'll see."
Kurt wasn't fooled, though. He could see that Blaine wasn't convinced either.
They turned at the sound of a car horn. It was Burt Hummel, letting Kurt and Blaine know that their time was up.
"Well, I guess this is it," said Kurt bravely.
They hugged once more, before sharing a sweet goodbye kiss.
"See you soon, Kurt," said Blaine, watching as the love of his life got into his dad's car and drove away.
Kurt turned to look out the window, waving to Blaine before he disappeared from sight.
Wisely, Burt Hummel chose not to say anything. He understood that Kurt and Blaine had never been separated for long, not even for a few days. They'd met, and a short time later, Kurt was a student at Dalton. Since then, they'd barely left each other's side—they were each other's best friend.
Kurt remained silent, staring out the window as he relived all of the good times over the last several weeks: the stolen kisses between classes, walking hand-in-hand, Blaine carrying his books for him, the passionate make-out sessions in either of their rooms, and the relief at there being no slushies or slurs, nothing except friendly cat-calls of "Finally" and "Get some!"
While Kurt understood the importance of family time, especially as this was the Hummel-Hudson's first combined summer together, and appreciated the effort being made to act as one unit, he was unhappy at being forced to be away from Blaine. Without him, Kurt felt empty, as though a part of him were missing. As soon as he left, Kurt literally ached to be back in Blaine's warm, strong arms.
Kurt didn't want to disappoint, so he threw himself into bonding with Carole and Finn and getting reacquainted with his dad. One night was spent playing board games. Another night was spent looking through photo albums and sharing stories, reminiscing about the past. Yet another night, they ordered pizza and watched a movie.
It was on this night—a surprisingly cold and stormy night—that they were interrupted by a repetitive thumping, seemingly coming from the front of the house.
Kurt went to investigate. He realized that the noise was someone knocking on the door. Yet the sound was weak, as though the person had little-to-no energy left.
Kurt opened the door to discover—
"Blaine!" he exclaimed, for that's indeed who was standing on the porch, soaked to the skin and sporting a black eye. The rain had loosened his curls from the gel he always plastered on and made his shirt see-through, showing off numerous other bruises.
Blaine had been leaning heavily on the door frame. Now, he moved towards Kurt, and everyone, for Burt, Finn, and Carole had followed and were now crowded around the doorway, could see that that had been all that had been all that was holding him up. Kurt caught him, supporting his weight as he led Blaine inside.
He led Blaine to the couch. Finn hurried ahead to lay down a blanket, keeping the couch dry. Kurt sat and pulled Blaine down with him, keeping an arm wrapped protectively around his shoulders.
"Shh, baby, I've got you. I'm here, you're safe," he whispered over and over again, running his hands through Blaine's hair.
Blaine, for his part, was crying like a newborn baby, great heaving sobs that left him gasping for air.
After giving Blaine several minutes to compose himself, Kurt carefully reached for the buttons to Blaine's shirt. He painstakingly eased the material off, fighting back a wave of nausea at the sight of Blaine's battered body.
The bruises stood out in the harsh light, staining his torso a sick shade of black and blue.
Carole went to work. Having fetched a first aid kit, she set about bandaging his wounds, applying ointment where necessary. Finally, she stood back and allowed Kurt to resume his position by Blaine's side.
Blaine had been silent after his initial crying jag.
"I'm sorry," he now whispered.
"For what?" asked Kurt, glad that Blaine was talking.
"For being a burden. I didn't have anywhere else to go. After he threw me out, all I could think of was you, Kurt, and how much I needed you. So, I walked here."
"Wait, what? Who threw you out? And why didn't you drive?" Kurt was full of questions.
Blaine took a deep breath. 'Courage,' he thought.
"It's not a particularly pleasant story," he warned, before opening up in a way he never had before.
Blaine watched Kurt drive away. When the car was no more than a speck in the distance, he headed for his own car and began the relatively short drive home.
As he pulled into the expansive driveway of the mansion he called 'home,' he parked and sat for a moment, steeling himself to enter a place that held many painful memories for him.
Despite coming from a rich family, Blaine had relatively few possessions, so all that was important to him was in his backpack and an overnight bag. Hefting both over his shoulder, he walked up to the front door and let himself in.
The place was silent, but Blaine knew that that didn't mean anything. His dad could still be lurking around, waiting for him so they could have a little "fun."
Blaine quickly made his way up the spiral staircase to his room, depositing his bags in what he called his 'secret place,' a hidden panel that only he knew about and where his stuff would be safe if he ever had to leave in a hurry.
"BOY!" he suddenly heard. "GET YOUR ASS DOWN HERE RIGHT NOW!"
And it starts, thought Blaine.
"Yes, sir?" he asked timidly.
"So, you're home for the summer," stated George Anderson, a big burly man who Blaine constantly lived in fear of.
"Yes, sir," said Blaine, stiff as a board, like a soldier standing at attention, with no emotions on his face. One thing he'd learned over the years was to never show fear or anything that might be considered a weakness in his opponent's eyes—in this case, his father.
Without warning, George struck his son across the face, sending Blaine reeling and crashing into the wall.
"Don't talk back, boy. Haven't I taught you anything?"
"Yes, sir. Sorry, sir," Blaine responded meekly.
"Shut your face. I've had a hard day at the office and I'm hungry. Fix me dinner."
"Yes, sir," said Blaine, moving towards the kitchen. "What would you like?"
"Don't ask questions. Figure it out for yourself," said George, going to sit on the couch and watch the football game that was currently playing.
"Yes, sir," Blaine whispered.
When did I get to be like this? Blaine asked himself. And why? I know who I am and I'm proud of it. Just because my own father can't accept having a gay son is no reason for him to make me feel worthless.
Blaine set about fixing a steak for his father. He, on the other hand, wouldn't eat until later that night. After his father went to bed, Blaine would sneak downstairs and make himself a sandwich.
Cooking had become second nature to Blaine, so he allowed his thoughts to wonder to Kurt, a dreamy smile taking over his face as he wondered what his boyfriend was doing at that very moment.
Blaine was pulled from his thoughts at a sudden burst of pain. He realized that he was too close to the stove and his hand had gotten burnt.
He gave a yell and darted for the sink, soaking his hand under the cool and soothing water. He heard a hissing noise and turned to find the steak sizzling in the pan. He flipped the steak onto a plate, grateful that it hadn't been burnt, unlike his hand. He shuddered to think what his father would have done to him if he'd ruined dinner.
Blaine set the food down at his father's place at the table, along with a bottle of beer and the appropriate silverware, before retreating to his room upstairs.
The next few days passed in this manner: the two generally avoiding each other, with Blaine doing his father's bidding when commanded.
On the third day of summer (Blaine thought it ironic that something as significant as what took place should occur on the third day, what with his obsession with Disney movies and all), George Anderson stumbled into the house, throwing the door open with a bang and calling loudly for Blaine.
"BOY!" he hollered at the top of his lungs.
Blaine slunk down the stairs. Things were always worse when his father had been drinking.
He had barely set foot off the bottom step before his father swung at him, sending Blaine to the ground.
George didn't stop there. He began to kick at Blaine, alternating between his stomach and his back, whichever way Blaine happened to be facing.
Blaine, for his part, lay there and took the abuse. He'd tried fighting before and had only gotten worse than if he took his beatings quietly.
Finally, George stopped and stood looking down at Blaine, breathing heavily.
"I'm sick of seeing your face. I want you out of my house!" he said, voice growing in volume.
Blaine fought back the wave of pain that washed over him to look up at the man who was his father.
"Dad…," he whispered weakly.
"We are not related. You're a fag, you're filth, and you're no son of mine!"
Blaine tried to hide the tears that had sprung up at his father's words. To be rejected by your only parent…
Blaine staggered to his feet. Unfortunately, he couldn't move fast enough to please his father.
George already had the door open and forcefully pushed Blaine outside.
Blaine fell landing in a tangle of limbs. With his injured torso, this was extremely painful. He hurriedly sprang to his feet and began walking, having no idea where to go, just that he had to get away. He didn't even notice the rain that began to fall, mingling with the tears streaming down his face.
I'm nothing. I have nowhere to go, no one to love or who loves me. I wish the end would come, were his morbid thoughts as his feet propelled him forwards to an uncertain future.
"And so I ended up here," Blaine finished. He was hunched over, Kurt rubbing soothing circles onto his back.
"You're staying here tonight, Blaine," said Burt, leaving no room for argument. "There is no way in hell I would send you out in that storm back to that…that…"
"Bastard," Blaine spat out. "I hate him. He ruined my life. My mom died in childbirth. He blames me for that, and he's right. But then when he realized that I was gay—that was the arsenic icing on the already poisoned cake for him. There was no way he could love me if I was something as despicable as a fag—"
Blaine's voice broke, overcome with anguish. Kurt simply held his boyfriend in his arms, offering him comfort through touch.
"Blaine, listen to me. You are not despicable. Whatever lies he's fed you about how being gay is unnatural are completely unjustified. Yes, being gay isn't exactly normal in society's eyes, but that doesn't make it wrong. It doesn't make you wrong for being that way. I think you're perfect just the way you are. You're Blaine—the sweet, wonderful, caring, beautiful, amazing man that I've been in love with since hearing you sing 'Teenage Dream.' "
Blaine's sobs were uncontrollable at hearing Kurt's impassioned speech.
"What did I do to deserve you? All I've ever done is run from my bullies or lie down and take whatever my dad chose to throw at me. Then you came along. You've been threatened and assaulted, yet you remained strong. You didn't let fear cloud your judgment—"
"Because of you, Blaine," Kurt interrupted. "You gave me the strength and the courage to carry on when all I wanted was to give up, let the darkness claim me. You saved me, Blaine!"
Done talking for the moment, Kurt went back to holding Blaine, whispering nonsense in his ear, anything to keep him alert and focused on the good things life had to offer, rather than the negative.
Burt, Carole, and Finn had been watching the two boys' exchange with rapt attention.
Now, Burt lowered himself onto the couch next to Blaine.
Acting on instinct and self-preservation, Blaine shrunk away from Burt's imposing figure, seeking to be closer to Kurt.
"Blaine, son," said Burt softly. "I'm not going to hurt you. I'm sorry that you've gone through what you have. Make our home yours for as long as you need or want. You're always welcome."
"Thank you, sir," Blaine whispered, still a tad fearful, despite common sense telling him that Burt Hummel was no George Anderson and would never lay a hand on him.
" 'Burt,' " he corrected gently.
"Thank you, Burt," Blaine repeated.
"Now, I think it's time you boys were in bed. All of you," he said, talking to Finn as well.
Kurt stood, keeping an arm wrapped around Blaine, touching him in some way to reassure him that he was there and that he wasn't going to leave.
"Blaine's sleeping with me," he announced, silently daring his dad to contradict him.
Taking in the sight of a broken Blaine, Burt made a split-second decision, despite knowing that the two were boyfriends and driven by hormones. He reasoned that neither would be thinking about anything sex-related that night.
"Yes, I think that's for the best," he said.
Kurt stared at him a moment before nodding a silent 'thank you.'
"Come on, Blaine," he said, guiding his boyfriend towards the stairs.
Blaine allowed himself to be led, knowing that he would blindly follow Kurt wherever he wished to go.
Kurt opened the door to his room and moved Blaine so that he was sitting down on his bed.
"I'll get something for you to sleep in," he said, going to his dresser and pulling out an old pair of sweat pants and an oversized t-shirt of Finn's that he had borrowed once.
Handing them to Blaine, he asked, "Will you need any help?"
Blaine stared unseeing in front of him.
"Blaine?" Kurt prompted. "Will you need any help?"
Blaine shook himself out of whatever trance he'd been in.
"No, I'll be fine," he said, and Kurt picked up on the fact that he was referring to more than just getting dressed.
"We can talk when you're done, if you want," said Kurt, giving Blaine a gentle push towards the bathroom.
"Thank you, Kurt," said Blaine, pausing to look back and smile slightly at his boyfriend. "I don't know what I'd do without you."
"I could say the same thing. Now get into those clothes and we can talk or cuddle or do whatever you want."
With one last smile, Blaine shut the door.
Shakily, Kurt sat down on his bed, the same spot where Blaine had been sitting.
How long has this been going on? thought Kurt. And why haven't I noticed before now?
Meanwhile, Blaine was fighting back a panic attack.
Kurt deserves to hear the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth, thought Blaine, which means that I have to start from the beginning, not just from several days ago.
As quickly as he could, Blaine changed into the clothes Kurt had given him.
Exiting the bathroom, he was greeted by Kurt, who immediately attacked his lips, pouring all his feelings into that one lovely kiss.
"Baby, you're amazing and I love you so much!" he whispered, before pulling back.
Blaine drew him into another kiss before guiding them towards the bed.
"I love you too, Kurt," he said, "so fucking much!"
They collapsed onto the bed, Kurt doing his best to support Blaine and see that he didn't hurt himself further.
"You deserve to hear the truth, Kurt," Blaine began after a moment of silence, "from the beginning."
"Blaine, you don't have to—" Kurt interrupted.
"No, I do. I need to tell somebody. Nobody knows, not even Wes or David. And I want you to be the one that I tell. Please, Kurt. Let me?"
Kurt nodded. "Okay. If you're sure…"
"I'm positive," Blaine stated.
They shared a lingering kiss before Blaine gently pushed Kurt away. He moved to sit cross-legged on Kurt's bed. Kurt mimicked his position, facing Blaine and joining their hands together.
"Like I've already said, my mom died giving birth to me. My dad was bitter and hated me from that day on. When I was little, he would spank me, nothing major, and I just thought it was normal, that all dads disciplined their kids that way and that often, usually several times a week."
Kurt squeezed his hand, indicating for him to continue.
"As I got older, probably by the time I was 9 or 10, he started using his belt on me."
Kurt gasped at this, but kept his hands joined with Blaine's.
"This continued for several years, until I was about 12 or 13. It was at this point that I'd realized that I was gay. I came out to my dad and he went ballistic. He started yelling abuse at me before hitting me across the face. That was new; he'd never used his fist before. I fell down and he started kicking me, as though he were trying to beat the gay out of me."
Kurt rubbed Blaine's hands in an effort to calm him down.
"That was the summer that we tried building a car together, his attempt at making me straight. When that failed, he beat me harder. He would punch and kick and use his belt or whatever else was handy…"
Blaine was sobbing by this point.
"And that's my story," he concluded after a moment spent composing himself.
"Blaine, how come no one's ever noticed before? Why haven't you ever gone to anyone?"
"He sent me to Dalton not so much because of the bullying that I'd been experiencing, but because he didn't want to have to deal with me anymore, didn't want to have to acknowledge that his only son was gay. I only see him over the holidays and during the summer. During those times, I'm isolated. By the time I go back to school, I've healed from whatever he's done to me. No signs of any limp or blemish. Well, except for the scars…but that's where having a single room comes in handy. Before Dalton, I had no friends, no one who cared whether I lived or died. So, it wouldn't have mattered if I'd gone to anyone," he finished with a bitter smile.
Tenderly, Kurt cupped Blaine's cheek and leaned in to kiss him.
"I care," he whispered. "I will always care. You gave me courage in my darkest hour. Now it's my turn to do the same for you."
Blaine stared at him. "What did I do to deserve you?" he asked in wonder.
"It's not a question of whether or not you deserve me," replied Kurt. "What you deserve is all the happiness the world has to offer. And if I make you happy, then I'll be around for as long as you'll have me."
"Forever, then," Blaine whispered, drawing Kurt close and lying back onto the pillows.
They lay together, tangled, resting peacefully. Blaine had a content smile on his face, the first Kurt had seen since summer had begun drawing near. Kurt, for his part, watched Blaine sleep, playing with his curls and being mindful of the bandages covering his torso.
Neither knew what the future held, but for the moment, they didn't care. They had each other and that was all that mattered.
Later on, when Burt peeked in to check on the boys, he found them nestled in each other's arms, asleep. Smiling, he backed away quietly, pleased that both boys appeared to have found true love.
So, this was intended as a one-shot, but if enough people request it, I will consider continuing. Let me know! And don't forget to leave a review =)