Author's Note: Okay, just so there's no confusion, I screwed up on the last chapter – Blaine was supposed to get his father beer, not cigarettes, so I'll fix that soon. Sorry this took so long, I'm trying to get back on top of things, so hopefully the next chapter will be published in a week like always. Also, I'm sorry that those who reviewed last time didn't get a preview of this chapter, that won't happen again.

Thank you all so much for putting up with me, enjoy the chapter!

~.~.~.~

"Where's my beer, boy?" my dad growled, low and dangerous.

My eyes glued themselves to the floor, the hallway eerily quiet except for the frantic thumping of my heart. No matter how many times this happened, it never got any less terrifying. I heard a door slam downstairs and wished I had the guts to call for help. With my luck, no one would come.

"I asked you a question, faggot," my father snapped, his spit flecking my face. I wanted to wipe it off, but my joints were stiff with fear.

It was hard to believe something could be so familiar and so blindingly terrifying at the same time, my mind moving to a dark, well-visited corner of my brain as my dad gripped the front of my shirt in a beer-sticky fist. He yanked me into the apartment and slammed the door shut behind him, shoving me onto the floor. My body stiffened and prepared for the onslaught.

When one person in a Connected couple is in physical pain, their soul mate will feel a margin of that pain.

I could constrict our Connection. I could prevent Kurt from feeling my pain, keep him from experiencing something that had tormented me for years. It was the right thing to do, the sensible thing. Any decent person would do it.

But as I considered it, I realized Kurt's presence in my mind was actually tangible - I could sense him there, like when you know someone is standing behind you even though you can't see them. For the first time in ten years, I didn't feel completely alone.

My father swung the first of many hard kicks, his heavy foot sticking itself firmly in my ribs, but I didn't cry out. I had learned that making any sound of protest only angered him further.

Alone was the last thing I wanted to be.

I knew it was selfish and horrible, but I kept the Connection open, letting Kurt's consciousness flow into mine as the familiar routine of getting beaten into the carpet ensued, thinking alternately about what an indecent person I was and how nice it was to feel my soul mate with me through the pain.

~.~.~.~

By the time it was all over, I had a barrage of new bruises across my ribs and an incredibly sore knee from when I'd gotten up too soon. I had thought he was done, but one kick to my kneecap and a shout of, "I'm not finished with you, boy!" knocked me back onto the floor for a second round.

Kurt didn't close our Connection even a little bit. He mentally stayed with me the whole time, and whether it was because he wanted to or because he didn't know he could limit our Connection was anyone's guess. Maybe he hadn't gotten The Talk yet either, but either way, I was extremely grateful for his company.

Not only that, but after it stopped, a great sense of peace just kind of washed over me, something I wasn't acquainted with. Normally after an episode like that, I would just get as far away from my father as I could without leaving the apartment and assess the damage done while trying not to make any sound, but there was no need this time. I felt perfectly at ease, almost eerily so, like I had been drugged.

As I laid on the carpet, I let my eyes slip closed, ignoring my father muttering to himself at the dining room table, just enjoying the peacefulness. I got this overall feeling that everything was okay, that there was nothing to worry about. I could just go to sleep, nothing else really mattered...

It didn't occur to me until I was nearly unconscious that my euphoria might've been Kurt's doing.

~.~.~.~

I dreamt of drowning again. This time instead of singing I heard whispers, a soft voice right at my ear telling me soothing things I couldn't understand.

Kurt, my subconscious recognized, holding tight to the sound of his voice.

His voice couldn't leave. Bad things would happen if it did, because I would be alone again. Alone and empty.

Blaine, the voice murmured, the warm water hugging me. It's okay, Blaine.

And surprisingly, it was.

~.~.~.~

On the bus ride to school, I thought about how Kurt had somehow managed to calm me down after my father's beating. He barely knew me, and yet he had endured all of those horrific feelings I exposed him to, and then went a step further and helped me be okay afterwards. I couldn't imagine why anyone would do that for me, even someone as forgiving as Kurt seemed to be. He had seen where I lived, so he must've known that I had nothing to give back. Why would he do that if not expecting something in return?

I had a limp from when my father kicked my knee, earning me a few odd glances in the hallway. It occurred to me that it must look a bit suspicious, but I had given up all hope of staying in the closet as soon as I Connected to Kurt. Especially now that we were actually on speaking terms, the word would be getting around if he hadn't already complained about me to all his friends.

Dread flooded me as I recalled what happened the last time I got outed at my old school - those had been the worst couple of months of my life and I wasn't eager to revisit them. Transferring schools had seemed like a quite literally lifesaver, but all it had done was turn my life upside-down.

I followed my usual routine at lunch, using my free lunch tickets required by my father's low income to get something that vaguely resembled a calzone. I sat down at the nearest vacated table, alone with my thoughts since people weren't that keen to sit by me. Sometimes I got jealous of the guys around me that could just sit next to their friends and mess around during lunch, but it was hard to imagine myself being able to just get along with someone that easily. Did normal people just automatically get each other?

I nearly jumped when I glanced up to see Kurt standing over me.

"Mind if I sit here?" he asked with a small smile and a quirk in his eyebrow. He wasn't even acknowledging the multiple people staring at him as he broke the sacred code of mixing cliques. I shook my head and Kurt instantly settled into the seat across from me, eating his pizza and side salad in silence, during which I gaped at him like a fish.

"Why aren't you sitting with your friends?" I managed to ask. Surely Kurt had better people to associate himself with than me - had he been sitting with a group when we Connected?

"Like I said, I want to get to know you," he shrugged. "Besides, you looked lonely over here."

My eyes fell to my food because oh my god, what was happening? This situation could not possibly be as simple as it seemed, things like this didn't just happen to me.

"What do you want from me, Kurt?" I demanded as gently as one can demand something. "My life isn't exactly a fairytale; I can't be your Prince Charming or whatever."

"I'm not expecting anything from you, Blaine," Kurt answered nonchalantly. "Let's just get to know each other, and then...we'll see what happens. No pressure or anything."

Oh. "Get to know each other", A.K.A. "I want to know exactly how dangerous of a kid criminal you are". This I had seen before.

"I'm assuming you want to know why I've been to juvie so many times," I muttered.

"You assume correctly."

Well, I had to give him credit - no one had ever asked about my criminal record so casually.

I wasn't quite sure if I was ready to tell Kurt that I hadn't been shoplifting like a normal rebellious teenager. Telling him the truth, that I only stole because I didn't want to starve or get my ass kicked, would ignite a whole new issue that I wasn't willing to cope with: pity. Pity sometimes did even worse things for a relationship than fear. People could never see you the same way again once they started to pity you - suddenly you aren't capable of taking care of yourself, in their eyes at least. They start looking down on you and offering to help so much that it lowers your self-esteem.

I couldn't lie to Kurt, but maybe I could avoid the question until he knew me enough that his image of me wouldn't be that distorted.

"The stealing is a long story," I muttered. "But the charges of assault and battery...I was bullied at my old school for being gay and...other reasons," like living in less than a shack and having a fucked up father, "and at one point it got pretty physical. I was just trying to give them what they gave me, but what I didn't know was that one of the guys had a big-shot lawyer for an uncle."

Unpleasant memories reared their ugly heads, of being beat up behind the school by some guy that thought he was better than me just because he had money and loving parents and a girlfriend. I wasn't about to prove him right, so I broke his nose and the next thing I knew, I was being carted off to juvie for the fifth time.

"I was actually glad I transferred here," I admitted, deciding that Kurt didn't need to know the details quite yet. "No one here knows I'm gay, but of course that'll be out the window soon."

"I won't tell anyone about this, you know," Kurt said earnestly. My eyebrows rose in surprise. "I'm the only 'out' guy at this school and I'm bullied constantly. Santana and Brittany are the only other gay couple, but they're Cheerios and girls, which I guess gives them special privileges."

He looked so resigned as he said the last part, it killed me a little bit. I knew firsthand how much it sucked to be used to regular abuse, physical or emotional.

"How bad is it? The bullying, I mean," I asked quietly, wondering how much further it extended than getting thrown against lockers everyday.

"Not as bad as it could be. I know I'm lucky it's not worse, but..."

He let the sentence hang, then shrugged it off like his opinion didn't matter. I was starting to admire Kurt more and more - anyone who looked at him would see someone confident and proud of who they were, not a kid who got harassed on a daily basis. Not like me. I practically screamed "kid from a broken home".

"It doesn't mean that what you're getting isn't bad," I reasoned. A genuine smile pulled at Kurt's lips, a small laugh bubbling up.

"Wow. I'm not used to talking to someone who actually knows what I'm going through," he said incredulously, and I had to smile a little too, because it really was a great feeling.

~.~.~.~

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