Hey, guys! So this is my first fanfic, and I'd love some reviews. Sure, it didn't turn out as good as I'd wanted, but I really hope you like it. Thanks for taking the time to read it! :)

It was a surprisingly hot day in Westerville, Ohio; usually, the temperature never exceeded 82 or 83—even in August—but it must've been pushing 95. That said, Blaine Anderson's walk home from Dalton Academy was not a very pleasant one.

Beads of sweat were forming on his forehead and upper lip, and he wanted nothing more than to get home and take a cold shower. Blaine hadn't been having a very nice day to begin with, anyway—on his walk to school in the morning, a gang of young men loitering in the alley between the bakery and the shoe store had spat at him and called him names (and it didn't help that his Kurt, his precious Kurt, wasn't there to help him, after his transfer back to McKinley). He ignored them as best he could, but he couldn't shake their taunting voices which hung in his head. Fag, they had said. Go straight to Hell, they had said.

Blaine felt the buzz of his phone in his pocket. He paused from walking for a moment, pulled out his phone and looked at the screen. One new message from Kurt Hummel.

Hey, honey, are you up for dinner tonight? My mom made casserole… but I can order a pizza and we'll eat it in my room and maybe watch a movie? XD

Well, Hell yeah, he was up for dinner.

Sounds good. See you later. :)

Blaine continued walking and couldn't repress a smile. Dinner with Kurt. Hm, that sure ought to lift his spirits.

"Fag."

Blaine's grin faded. He paused for a moment, but then continued walking, slightly dazed by the random insult he presumed was directed at him. He figured it was another one of those pesky gang members he had tried so hard to ignore that morning. Whatever, he didn't really care, he was going to visit Kurt that night and they'd talk and—

"Get your hands off of me!" Blaine shouted. Someone had grabbed the collar of his uniform and jerked him backwards with such force that he almost fell. In the instant he was unbalanced, the aggressor pulled him to the alley by the bakery—which, Blaine duly noted, was the alley where the gang liked to hang around. The very gang that had called him names that morning. Quite obviously, his attacker was a member.

The hand which had seized Blaine by his shirt collar threw him to the ground aggressively. Blaine looked up at the gang members, which were now crowded around him so he couldn't escape. There were four of them altogether, each one with a fiery glare in their eyes and a stance that made Blaine want to cry out in fear. No, Blaine, you must be strong, he told himself. You need to get away from these men, and the only way you're going to do that is if you pretend that you're not scared in the slightest.

Blaine stood and stared fiercely into his aggressor's eyes. "And what do you want, may I ask?"

The man, very tall and quite literally covered in tattoos (there was probably more inked skin than not), chuckled. His voice was deep and gruff, which only made his already frightening nature even more terrifying. "You fucking bastard, you know. We gonna give you what you deserve, you little cunt." The man grabbed Blaine's wrist and jerked him close. Using his other hand, he punched Blaine in the stomach.

Blaine couldn't breathe for several moments; he doubled over in pain, hands clutching his gut. In his moment of agony, a second gang member kicked him in his right side. Blaine had never been kicked so hard—the man had at least fractured a rib. A terrible, searing pain shot through him, and a strangled cry escaped his lips.

The gang members delivered blow after blow, each one more painful than the next. After they had turned Blaine into a huddled, bloody mess, the ringmaster kneeled down by his side. "You're gonna regret the day you were born, you little faggot."

Blaine could barely tell what was happening; the world around him was spinning and blurry. Surely it was from his loss of blood—one of the gang members had taken a pocket knife to his arms and cheeks, staining most of his face a dark maroon.

He heard the zip of his trousers being undone. The man grabbed at his crotch through his zipper hole and pulled at it brutally. Blaine cried out in misery. Someone else (he didn't bother to look at the monster's face, he just buried his head in his hands through the whole thing) had taken his pants and gotten behind him and— Shit, what's he doi—"OH GOD, PLEASE, NO!" Blaine screamed. The man had shoved his dick inside of Blaine, making him cry out in pain and fear.

A sweaty hand covered Blaine's mouth. "Dont you dare make another sound, you little faggot," the man growled in his ear.

Someone else closed in on him and delivered a powerful kick to his groin. The men continued to beat Blaine to a pulp until he was no more than a bloody mass, unconscious and alone in the alley.

Please review-as you can see, I sort of need the help. Thanks again for reading it. Hope you liked! (More chapters will be coming, as will Kurt-this IS a Klaine fanfic.)