Disclaimer: I don't own Glee... but we all know who does, and I really, really love him right now. :)
AN: Can I just start by saying how happy this Klaine fandom has made me in the past 3 days? Tumblr has been exploding with sex riots, and I officially adore RIB again, and OMG have you seen CC's hickey? I don't wanna spoil anyone who doesn't want to be spoiled, but let's just suffice to say that I can't wait til November 9th, (and yes, it will be the 9th for me, coz I'm in Australia), and that's just one day before my birthday. Oh yeah, Best birthday gift EVER!
Massive 'Thank you' to my beautiful wifey, MissKaterinab for betaing, and for providing me with Klaine appropriate American breakfast foods. She writes 'Pavarotti's Legacy', and it's awesome guys, go check it out. Love you, fucker! :P
Next update won't be as quick as this one guys, coz I'm taking part in a fic exchange, and I have to put some work into that... but I won't leave you hanging too long, I promise. I've found new love and inspiration for this story, so the chapters should come a lot faster from now on.
So without further ado, I give you:
Let Me Be – Chapter 9
-.-.-.-.-
Blaine's words echoed in my head over and over. I can't ever go back there... he'll kill us... I can't tell you who he is.
All this time it had never once occurred to me that Blaine might have known his attackers. I had always thought it to be a random hate crime triggered by them witnessing our passionate goodbyes in the parking lot, but now I had to wonder if it was planned. If they'd been following us. If Blaine was even the intended target. God, what if they were actually after me, but when I left, they directed their hate towards him instead? I would never forgive myself if that was the case.
I'd only managed to get one more detail out of Blaine before he'd fallen asleep in my arms, and that was only because I was in tears as I begged him to tell me if it was somebody he'd considered a friend. Was it somebody I knew? Somebody we trusted? In my mind, that would explain why his trust had been so shattered, but all he would say was that it was not one of the Warblers. Well, that was something at least, but it didn't entirely answer my question.
I didn't sleep at all that night. Every single face that I could ever recall seeing in the halls or the classrooms of Dalton pushed its way to the forefront of my mind as I searched my head for anything that would give me a clue as to who it was. I hadn't been at Dalton long enough to learn everyone's names, but I was fairly certain I was familiar with most of the faces. I planned to go to the police station in the morning and ask to review the security footage tapes of the mall from that day. Blaine couldn't do it, and I understood why, but that didn't mean I couldn't try to figure it out on my own. The bastard who did this to Blaine was not going to get away with this... not if I could help it.
Blaine groaned and his body bucked in my arms, snatching me from my reverie. I held him tighter, stroking his hair and whispering gentle words until he calmed again. He was restless tonight - more so than usual - and I suspected it was due to the fact that he'd spoken to me for the first time about the attack.
It was progress, I knew that, and that was definitely a good thing. I just hoped that it wouldn't agitate his mind too much to be recalling all this stuff. I knew that it was important for him to talk about the attack, but I didn't want to risk losing that little bit of my Blaine that I had only just gotten back.
As it turned out though, I was wrong again... but this time, I didn't mind at all.
When I stepped out of the bathroom the following morning, freshly showered and dressed but still sporting the turban-towel on top of my head, I was rather shocked to find Blaine sitting on the edge of the bed waiting for me. Fully clothed.
I did a double take. It had been so long since I'd seen him in something other than pyjama pants or hospital gowns that I nearly didn't recognise him. Of course, the fact that his face was now bare of the three weeks' worth of stubble that had been growing there unhindered since the attack also played a large part in that. He'd done a fairly good job too, considering he still had one arm in a cast and the other bandaged and stitched; he'd only really missed the split skin between his lip and his chin, which made that one strip of hair look a little out of place, but it was still a vast improvement.
I met his eyes with a tentative smile and reached out to stroke his smooth cheek with my fingertips.
He moaned. "That feels so good Kurt" His words were husky, apparently much sexier sounding than he had intended because once they were out of his mouth I saw him blush. "It had gotten so itchy."
"When did you do this?" I inquired softly, still intrigued by the feel of his soft skin. The sight of him clean shaven gave me butterflies. He looked years younger, like a massive weight had been removed.
"Oh, just now, in the main bathroom."
I know it was a simple thing, but I felt a swell of pride for him... of accomplishment. He had done this for himself, by himself, to make himself feel better. It was another positive step.
I smiled at him, both my hands on his smooth cheeks, and tilted his face up to mine, brushing his lips softly with mine, then pulled back to meet his eyes as i spoke.
"I like it. You look 17 again."
He pushed forward again, recapturing my lips in a deeper kiss, and I moaned lightly at the sensation, letting my arms slip around his shoulders to hold him close.
"I know. I did it for you. I knew you'd like it."
I just nodded, hesitating for only a brief moment before I pulled back out of the hug and reached for his hand. His slipped inside mine instantly, with complete trust, and I felt my chest flutter at the simple gesture.
"You've got that doctor's appointment today. Are you going to be okay?"
He nodded but didn't look so sure. I knew that it wasn't the doctor himself he wasn't comfortable with. It was more the idea of going out. Out of the house, out in public. I couldn't blame him for being nervous.
"You hungry? Come have breakfast with me."
His breath hitched nervously, but he stood, gripping my hand tightly, and let me lead him down the stairs and into the kitchen.
Carole was already there when we walked into the kitchen, her back to us as she washed dishes in the sink. She turned to greet me with a good morning but stopped dead with wide eyes and gaping mouth as she noticed Blaine standing beside me.
Her voice went up about three octaves when she spoke, but apart from that she did moderately well at not making a big deal out of the fact that Blaine was suddenly standing in our kitchen after four days of hiding out in my room.
"Can I make you boys something? Finn just had waffles, so the iron is still hot." She stared hopefully at Blaine, but when he wouldn't even make eye contact with her, her eyes drifted to me.
Blaine moved and sat at the table but kept his head bowed. I gave Carole a sympathetic smile, sort of as a 'thanks for trying', and I rubbed Blaine's shoulder gently as I replied to her.
"Thanks Carole, but I'm just going to have cereal." I squatted down next to his chair, just below eye level. "Do you want waffles?" It wasn't quite a whisper. He bit his bottom lip and just shook his head. I glanced around at the pantry for inspiration.
"Cereal?" I offered. He nodded shyly.
The difference between this Blaine and the one in my bedroom from ten minutes ago was so vast. It baffled me as to how and why Blaine could be so terrified to even speak a single word about something as harmless as breakfast choices in front of my gentle, accommodating step mom. I knew I had to give him time to adjust, to find his niche in this household before he would truly feel comfortable here, but I just wanted so badly for him to realise how safe he was in this home. He didn't need to cower from these people.
Didn't he know that? How couldn't he know that?
I walked over and opened the pantry, kneeling down to read the labels. "Blaine, we've got Kashi, Cookie Crisp, Apple Jacks or Froot Loops." I rolled my eyes as I turned back to face him. "Yeah, all the sugar crap is Finn's, but I bet you're not going to complain about that, are you?"
Blaine smiled up at me, cocking a triangular eyebrow. I picked up the Cookie Crisp and shook the box, and he just grinned and nodded at me.
Carole laughed. "Okay, I'll just leave you boys to it then." She started to walk out of the kitchen, but she stopped and turned, coming back a little closer to Blaine's chair. Her hand hovered in the air, but she knew better than to try to touch him.
"Blaine, honey? I just want you to know that we are all so happy to have you here. We want you to feel comfortable here, and we'll all do anything it takes to make that happen, okay? This is your home now." She glanced up across the room at me. I was watching Blaine carefully from between the open pantry doors, cereal boxes in hand, just monitoring his reaction. She glanced back down at him, her hand merely inches away from fluffing the curls on the back of his neck, but she managed to resist.
"If you ever need anything honey, I just want you to know you can come to me. Or Burt," she added as an after thought, "Or even Finn. We all want to help you, okay?"
Blaine just reached over and started fiddling with the condiments in the centre of the table, not acknowledging her at all.
She shot me another quick, comforting 'mom' look and disappeared out the door.
I tried to carry on as if nothing had happened.
I set the cereal boxes down on the table and grabbed bowls, spoons, and the jug of milk. Blaine seemed to physically relax as soon as Carole had left the kitchen and even quietly thanked me when I handed him a spoon.
I smirked at his adorable, childish grin as he poured some milk over the little chocolate cookies. His face had lit up, clearly delighted with the treat, and he moaned at the taste of the first mouthful.
I laughed.
He moaned again. This time it was an incredulous sound, and I glanced up into his deep, sparkling hazel eyes, loving the happy smirk that graced his beautiful face.
I grinned back. I didn't want to point it out to him right then, but his large bowl at that moment in time possibly held more food than he had consumed in the entire four days that he'd been in our house.
This was my boy, back again, and I loved seeing it, however briefly. It was so typical of the old Blaine to show cracks in his armour at the prospect of a sugar high. He'd be jumping on our furniture next.
I laughed at the thought as I watched him shove another large spoonful of the chocolaty cookie chunks into his mouth.
"You like those, huh?"
He nodded emphatically but replied quietly. "Oh God yes. My mom never let us eat this kind of stuff."
But then his face fell as he remembered his mom, and he fell silent.
I poured myself a bowl of Kashi and sat down beside him, eating together in comfortable silence.
Happiness was returning to him. It was brief and sporadic, but it was there, and it gave me hope. I knew that one day, hopefully in the not too distant future, he would be able to return to normal, let go of this fear and just be 'Blaine' again.
But I knew that that could never happen while his attackers were still out there. I had to find out who they were... I was determined.
But first we had a check up to get to at the hospital.
-.-.-.-
Dr. Salling's office was at the rear of the hospital near the psych ward.
I found it funny (not funny haha, but funny ironic) that, four days ago, I had struggled to get Blaine to leave this place, and now I was struggling to get him to come back. He didn't want to be there - not in the hospital, not near those nurses. He clung to my hand and followed me obediently, his footsteps heavy and petulant, the side of his face pressed against my arm as we walked.
The hospital strength chemical bleach smell assaulted our nostrils as we sat in the examination room waiting for Dr. Salling to join us, and Blaine fidgeted nervously, not letting go of my hand.
But the fidgeting only got worse when Dr. Salling sat down across from us and began to ask us questions about Blaine's health, progress and moods. He listened intently as I tried to describe, as delicately as possible since Blaine was sitting right beside me, the differences in his behaviour when it was just him and I compared to how he was around my family.
Dr. Salling nodded expectantly and then spoke to us at some length about selective mutism.
Blaine's selective mutism had obviously been triggered by the attack. It was most commonly seen in younger children, but it wasn't an unusual response to an incident like what Blaine had been through. He explained how in children, the treatments varied from case to case, but in adults the most effective way to help Blaine deal with it would be medication. Obviously some counselling and therapy would be essential too, but those would take time to implement and become effective. He prescribed an SSRI anti-depressant drug for Blaine and handed me the script.
Blaine flinched repeatedly as the doctor removed the stitches from his arm, but it wasn't from pain. I was sure of it. It was the touch of the doctor's gloved hands against his skin that Blaine couldn't stand. Dr. Salling tried to talk him through it, tried to comfort him, but addressing him directly was only making Blaine worse. When it was finally all done, stitches removed and the whole site swabbed with Mercurochrome, Blaine bolted off the table and stood by the door, waiting for me to leave.
But ten minutes later, he sat beside me in my Navigator, laughing and joking just like old times.
I loved this boy with all my heart, and I knew his behaviour was normal after his ordeal, but his emotional ups and downs were giving me whiplash. I wasn't quite sure what to do about it.
When we got home, the house was empty. I had intended to leave him here while I went to the police station, but since I wouldn't leave him home alone, we went upstairs to my room and cuddled up together on my bed watching Aladdin on my laptop instead.
Blaine had dozed off after the movie, and I guess I had too. The sound of Finn and Puck chatting as they walked up the stairs woke me, and I carefully disentangled myself from Blaine to go talk to them. I then picked up my keys and left for the police station.
The guys would keep an eye on Blaine for me. He'd probably stay asleep for a while yet anyway.
He'd be fine.
-.-.-.-.-
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