Thank you so much to all of you guys who reviewed my story. It means a lot to me! Sorry I didn't have any author's notes in the last chapter—I'm sort of new to this.

So glad you guys liked it and can sympathize with Blaine. That was one of my primary goals—I didn't want to make my story so outlandish that you couldn't relate.

I'll also try to add chapters very often. I have not much else to do, and I love writing, sooo….

Without further ado, chapter 2.

Blaine awoke suddenly in a cold sweat. He tore the sheets from his body, panting as if he had just run a mile. He tried to sit up to take in his unfamiliar surroundings, but a searing pain shot from his upper ribcage.

Blaine began to panic. Where was he? He was alone in a dark room and… broken. His ribs felt fractured, his groin sore, his arms and face peppered with deep cuts and bruises. Calm now, Blaine, he thought to himself. Calm yourself and try to remember where you were last.

Of course.

The alleyway.

It all came back to him in a flash; the kicks, the punches, the cuts, the grabs…. He had been beaten up, practically gang-raped. And for what?

Oh, that's right. For being a 'fag'.

No, no, this can't be happening. You couldn't have been gang-raped, that's just ridiculous. Westerville is such a nice town, the people here would never….

"Help," Blaine muttered, obviously too soft for anyone to hear. But his voice felt so raspy and weak, unlike his usual clear, confident speech. He looked around. He couldn't see much—it must've been very late at night, it was so dark—but he could make out some sort of buzzer resting on a bedside table to his left. He reached out to grab it and pushed the button.

Within moments, a doctor rushed in, his white coat billowing behind him. "How may I be of assistance?"

Blaine opened his mouth to speak but closed it again; he wasn't really sure. By that point he had figured he was in a hospital of some sort, but he was still awfully confused…. But it wasn't like the doctor could supply him of any answers.

"Sir?"

Blaine felt his lower lip quiver. He tried to repress the tears; crying was so unlike his usual self, his usual strong, upbeat self.

He couldn't restrain it. Right there in front of the doctor, Blaine gave way to a river of tears.

"Sir, if you're having pains, we could medicate you, but we should really contact your parents first—that is, under the assumption that you're underage?"

But Blaine didn't want to see his parents. Who he wanted to see was Kurt.

"G—give me a phone," he choked in between his sobs. "I'll call them."

The doctor gestured to the patient phone on the bedside table. "Go right ahead."

Blaine dialed Kurt's number with a quivering finger and held the receiver to his ear.

It rang for several seconds before Kurt picked up. "Hello?"

"Kurt?"

"Blaine? What on earth? Do you know how late it is? What do you want? Why aren't you calling from your cell? Why didn't you show up for dinner?"

"P—please, Kurt, I need you."

"Blaine, you sound dreadful. Where are you? What's wrong?"

"I... don't exactly know. I think I'm at the Mount Carmel East hospital, I'm not sure—"

"Oh, good Lord, Blaine, are you okay?" he sounded concerned, almost scared.

"Just come, quickly. Please." Tears were threatening to overcome him again.

"Alright, I'll be right there. Hold tight."

By the time Kurt finally arrived, the doctor had left and the digital clock on Blaine's bedside table showed the time 3:16 a.m. Nevertheless, he'd never been so happy in his life to see Kurt's face.

Blaine was drowsy and near asleep when Kurt flipped on the lights. He stood still for a moment, staring, bewildered, at Blaine's injuries, his mouth slightly ajar.

Blaine tried to sit up in his bed, but his injured ribs kept him from doing so. "Kurt, I'm so glad you—"

"Oh, dear God, Blaine, what happened?" Kurt cried, rushing to Blaine's bedside.

Blaine didn't respond, but rather just gazed glassy-eyed at the boy standing next to him. Had he upset Kurt? Was Kurt angry at him?

Kurt dragged over a chair from the corner of the room. "Blaine, tell me what happened. Please." Kurt's face was stern and his voice dead serious.

Blaine never lied to Kurt. He told him anything and everything, as Kurt did to him; they had a very honest and open relationship. But he was so scared of what Kurt's reaction might be if he was too frank with his response, so he began to speak very deliberately and gingerly. "Kurt, I was walking home from school, right? When I was texting you. And there were these guys…. In the alley by the bakery. Some gang, I guess. They, uh, grabbed me, right? And they… beat me up."

Kurt squeezed Blaine's hand and used his free arm to reach up and trace his finger along Blaine's cuts. "Did they do that to you?"

Blaine hesitated slightly before nodding. "Kurt, I don't want to scare you, alright? I—"

Kurt suddenly burst out crying.

Blaine frowned at the sight of the tears straming down the boy's flawless, pale cheeks. "I'm sorry, I shouldn't have—"

"But how could this have happened? Oh, this can't be happening, it just can't!" Kurt wailed, a shaky hand coming up to wipe his face.

See what you did, Blaine? You made him cry. This is all your fault... Blaine thought, disgusted with himself. And with that thought, Blaine started crying himself. "I'm sorry, Kurt, I'm so sorry..." he sobbed.

"Shh, you don't have to tell me any more right now, you hear? It's okay, Blaine. I'm here. I gotcha. It's alright. Shh," Kurt managed to say through his tears. He reached for Blaine's hand.

"I'm so sorry. I'm so sorry," Blaine repeated over and over.

"No. Don't be sorry, Blaine, you have nothing to be sorry for. Nothing." Kurt said, consoling himself for Blaine's sake.

Blaine sniffled. "But I thought I could be brave and face them... I should've run, I should've called for help..."

Kurt stroked the back of Blaine's hand with his thumb. "You didn't do anything wrong, honey, I don't blame you for anything."

The two boy sat in silence (except for the occasional sniffle coming from Blaine) until Kurt spoke again. "Where are your parents, Blaine? Don't you need them to pay for your medical bills?"

Blaine half-expected a fresh flow of tears would erupt from him again; it didn't, though. Apparently, his feelings towards his parents were no more than apathy by now. There was still hurt inside of him, but mostly… numbness. "No, it's okay. My parents aren't here… my mother's on a business trip and my father… well, he's not here."

"But—are you at least getting more than minimal care? Shouldn't they stitch up some of those cuts, or something?"

Blaine shook his head. "Until my parents come, they can't really do much of anything."

Kurt considered Blaine's response. "I ought to call my parents, then, at least maybe they could help with the bill..."

"Kurt, I can't ask you to do that, I'd never fo—"

"You get your rest now, but in the morning, I'm calling them," he said forcefully. He then ran a hand through Blaine's now-ungelled hair and leaned in closer to Blaine so he could plant a kiss on his forehead. "But until you're better, I'm staying with you. Right here in this chair."

"I love you so much, Kurt. You don't even know."

"I love you too. Or my name isn't Kurt-Proud-Boyfriend-of-Blaine-Anderson-Hummel."

Thanks for reading! This chapter was sort of fluffy…. But, hey, who doesn't love a good Klaine moment?

I took lessthan3glee's advice to add more emotion to the chapter. It was excellent, thanks.

I just had to mention the fact that Blaine's hair was ungelled. Good ole Darren Criss hair, the way it should be…. :3

Please review. I love it when you guys do! It makes me feel special. ^_^