Flashback to Darker Times
Burt had never seen the look of sheer fear on anybody before. He'd seen fear, of course. Apprehension that was expressed among his classmates during exam week, the fear of death in his wife's eyes, and even the childhood fears that his son had endured over the years. But while Burt had made sure that Kurt knew he could always turn to him for help during these moments of need, Blaine had to hide from his father for he was the cause of much of the boy's fear. Burt knew that when he told Kurt the kid could move in with them, but that didn't mean he was prepared to take on the scarred kid.
Carole had taken Kurt out for the evening. The local independent fashion store was holding a late-night sale, so the boys had left them to it. With his son out enjoying himself, Burt had decided to stay late at work to get the growing stack of paperwork down to a more manageable level.
By the time Burt let himself into his house that night, he had been looking forward to having a hot meal waiting for him in the kitchen. Expecting the aroma of some culinary delight that Blaine had offered to prepare for the evening, Burt had shrugged out of his jacket and headed into the kitchen, only to find it empty of both human life and his evening meal.
Frowning, Burt headed in the direction of the stairs. "Boys?" he called out as he started up. "Blaine? Finn?"
By the time he made it to the turn in the staircase, he was able to hear the unmistakable sounds of what he assumed was a computer game. Thinking he was about to catch the boys in the act of eating their meals in their bedroom, which he had told them many times not to do, he reached for the doorknob and slowly pushed it open, allowing the creaking hinges to announce his presence.
Finn's eyes flickered briefly from the screen just long enough to identify the intruder before turning back to pause the game. "Hey, Burt."
"Mr. Hummel," Blaine greeted with a smile.
Burt gave a quick scan of the room, but his eyes didn't land on any silverware like he'd been expecting.
"Boys, what happened to–" He paused as his eyes landed on the TV screen. "Finn, is this Black Ops?" Seeing Finn's genuine smile morph into an expression of guilt, Burt knew his instinct was correct. "Finnegan Hudson, you know full well that your mother and I have banned this game in the house," he noted, his voice beginning to grow darker.
"Sorry . . ." Finn drowned out the word, unsure if apologizing at this point would even help his situation.
Burt sent a stern look at the boys in front of him before letting out a heavy sigh, deciding to drop the issue for now. There wouldn't be any harm in letting Carole decide how to deal with this situation when she got home.
"I'm going to go change," he announced. "Why don't you set the table and I'll see you down there for supper?"
Burt started to turn and head back out to the hallway, but noted the look that the boys shared. Turning back, Burt glanced between them before raising an eyebrow in question.
"We, umm . . ." Blaine was gesturing wildly, avoiding eye contact with him.
"We totally forgot about dinner, Burt," Finn spoke up for him.
"You–" The anger was swelling up inside him again.
Burt didn't get angry often, but he'd had an awful day. All he wanted was to come home, put his feet up and share dinner with the boys over a football game.
First, Denny hadn't shown up for his shift at work, then the delivery for the truck tires hadn't arrived, and then there were several issues with the paperwork he had been struggling to get through. And now the boys, who'd spent all afternoon and evening playing computer games, had forgotten to do anything for dinner. They couldn't even put a pizza on a tray and shove it into the oven? How hard was it?
"You spent all afternoon stuffed up here playing video games, and couldn't even manage to phone for take out?" Burt asked, fighting to keep control of his anger.
"I-I- It's totally my fault, Mr. Hummel. Carole and I planned what I'd make for dinner tonight and I just got sidetracked . . . I'm so sorry," Blaine stuttered out his explanation while still avoiding eye contact. "I-I could start now if you'd like, or I'll pay for take out."
"Start now?!" Burt felt his anger starting to pour out. "I don't want supper in three hours, I'm hungry now. I come home from work, and all I ask, all I ask, is that the boy I allow to live rent free under my roof do one simple thing, one simple thing, and cook us all a meal. Is that so selfish?"
"No, Mr. Hummel," Blaine mumbled. His eyes where glued to the floor, as if he hoped that if he stared at it long and hard enough he could sink through and disappear.
"No, it's not! I don't ask for money. I don't ask for you clean anything, just one little favor. I work my ass off for you so I can afford to feed you and clothe you, and what do I get in return? You boys repay me by sitting in this room playing games all afternoon like a bunch of lazy slobs! A video game that you know is banned in this house, as well!"
Waving his arm up in a gesture, Burt clipped Blaine across the back of his head. At the collision of flesh, he froze instantly, all of his anger instantly draining from him. He had never, ever, laid a finger on one of his kids before, and if the sinking feeling in his stomach were anything to go by, he'd never do it again.
"Blaine," Burt choked out, watching the expression on the boy's face. "I'm so sorry."
But Blaine didn't respond. He simply stood there, eyes wide, staring at Burt with a look of sheer panic and desperation. He looked so afraid and shocked about what had just happened.
Burt could feel his heart breaking in his chest. For a second the boys all stood in silence, taking in what had just occurred. Breaking the stillness in the room, Burt took a step towards the younger boy in an attempt to apologize again and in an instant the serenity was gone.
Blaine broke from his deer-in-the-headlights stance, and dashed around the older man to make it out of the room with a loud sob. Burt and Finn rushed after him.
"Blaine!" Finn cried, hoping he would stop for him but the shorter boy didn't respond to the call in any form.
Instead, they heard the slamming of the attic door, accompanied seconds later by the distinct sound of the lock clicking into place. He'd barricaded himself in his room, and Burt sank down onto the wooden stairs that lead up to the space, his head in hands. He'd seen the look of terror on the boy's face, and instantly recalled the hesitant details Kurt had revealed to him a few months prior.
. . . And then his dad just started beating on him. All because he'd had a bad day.
It would start with some yelling, but by the end there'd be physical reminders.
He'd hide under the desk. A small, safe space where nobody could get to him.
That's why Burt had agreed to put a lock on the attic door. It formed a safe area for the younger boy as a reassurance that nobody else could get in when he felt like he needed his space.
Burt let out a soft curse as Finn settled beside him on the stairwell.
On the top floor, the gel haired boy found himself huddled under the old desk that the Hummel's had provided for him, with his back pressed up against the wall.
In his head, images flashed by of his dad drunk, his father towering over him, flinching from the raised voices, dodging unsuccessfully the hand of his father.
Outside his locked door, he could make out the low murmurs of who he figured was Burt and Finn. Clenching his fists tighter, Blaine curled in on himself and hugged his legs close to his chest. He didn't bother attempting to wipe away the tears that were running freely down his cheeks.
Closing his eyes, Blaine thought back to the day when he had told Kurt about his father, if for nothing else to simply block out the actually memories of his father's torment. Hugging his arms even tighter around himself, he prayed that Kurt would get home soon. Right now, he wanted nothing more than to be safely huddled in his boyfriend's arms.
It's not safe for you to stay here anymore. You'll be safe at my house.
I won't let anyone hurt you again. I promise. You're too precious to me.
My dad would never lay a finger on you like that.
Kurt always kept his promises, and Blaine had believed him when he said that Burt would never hurt him, so he'd agreed to move in. But Burt had hurt him. He'd been so naïve to think that he'd be safe here.
His father was right. He needed the hits to keep him in line: remember his manners, respect his elders, and not indulge in childish fantasies. He could hear his father's voice echoing in his ears and he shook his head to try and dislodge them, before burying his head in his knees.
Anderson's are men. Straight men, Blaine. You need to grow out of this disgusting phase.
B's won't get you into Harvard, Blaine. B's are for failures.
No son of mine is going into acting. You want to spend your whole life struggling to get by?
Through his sobs, Blaine could have sworn a new voice was added to the conversation that was taking place outside of his bedroom door; this one sounding softer and angelic.
"Thanks for taking me shopping, Carole," Kurt gushed as the pair made their way up the path leading towards the front door of the house. "I had a lot of fun."
"Me too, Kurt," Carole said with a smile. "We should defiantly do this again some time."
Opening the door, Kurt dashed upstairs to set his new purchases down in his room. Heading down the hallway, he didn't expect to find both his father; with his head in his hands, and Finn sitting on the bottom steps that led up towards the attic, which was known lately as Blaine's room.
A sinking feeling sat in the pit of Kurt's stomach at the scene. Slowly setting his shopping bags down outside of his bedroom door, the blonde approached the two men.
"What's going on dad?"
"Kurt?!" His father exclaimed, raising his head. "I . . ."
"Dad–?" Kurt paused when he heard a loud sob coming from behind the attic door. "Blaine?" he mouthed to himself before turning back to the pair sitting on the stairs. "What happened? What's wrong with Blaine?"
With his father still faltering for a response, Finn jumped in for him. "Burt had a bad day at work and . . . one thing led to another . . . He may have slapped Blaine on the back of his head."
Kurt's eyes grew wide, and he stared perplexed back at his father. "You-You did what?"
"It was an accident, Kurt. I– It wasn't like I hit him that hard–"
"That doesn't matter!" Kurt cried, shock turning to outrage. "I told you what Blaine went through back at his parent's house! He was supposed to be safe here. How do you think he's feeling now? What kind of thoughts do you think are going through his head?"
"Kurt, I'm sorry," Burt stated firmly, moving to stand up from the stairs. "It was a mistake. I–"
"Just go," the boy demanded, staring passed his father. His lips formed a straight line.
"Kurt–"
"No!" the blonde snapped, finally meeting his dad's gaze. "You've obviously done enough for one day." Kurt turned to look at his stepbrother, lowering his voice slightly. "You too, Finn. Just-Just give me some time alone with him."
Blaine curled himself farther into his ball under the desk. Sobbing loudly into his knees as he tried desperately to block out the images of his father from his mind.
The sound of the doorknob trying to be turned finally snapped Blaine out of his memories, and he stared franticly in the direction of the door. He could only make out a small corner of its surface from where he was hiding.
"Blaine? Sweetheart?" The gel haired boy heard a soft knock against the door. "Blaine, can you let me in?"
He made no move from where he was crouched in his hiding spot. Instead, he buried his head back into his knees. Surely it was just his subconscious playing a trick on him. Or worse, Burt.
"Blaine, please honey. I'm not going to hurt you. I just want to see that you're okay," the soft-spoken voice continued.
He uncurled slightly, lifting his head just enough to rest his chin on his knees. Soft sobs still choking out of his mouth.
"I've sent my dad and Finn downstairs. It's just me. Please, Blaine, I'm worried."
He straightened his legs out, and used his hands to slowly push himself forward until he was kneeling in front of his nest.
"I love you, Blaine." He heard the boy whisper softly through the door. "Please, just let me make sure you're safe."
He leaned forward towards the door just long enough to flick open the bolt that was locking the door, before shooting quickly backwards into his safe place again, just to ensure it wasn't a trick.
Hiding his face away again, Blaine heard the sound of the doorknob turning and slowly being pushed open, before closing again with the bolt sliding into place.
"Blaine, honey? Are you okay?"
Hesitantly looking up from his knees, Blaine was greeted by the concern, angelic features of his boyfriend, kneeling in front of the opening under the desk.
"You p-promised," the boy stuttered quietly. "Y-You said I w-would be safe here."
"Blaine . . . I'm so sorry, baby," Kurt muttered, tears priming the outskirts of his eyes. "I'm here now, sweetie. You're safe with me, Blaine. Always."
"Kurt," Blaine let out in yet another sob and threw himself forward, arms tightly embracing his boyfriend. His face quickly found its place buried into the blonde's shoulder. Kurt's arms wrapped securely around him as well, pulling him close, and for now he relaxed, safe in the warm arms of his boyfriend.
.: Please comment with any story ideas you have for Kurt and/or Blaine :.
