You guys nearly made me cry with your reviews for the last chapter. I don't care how repetitive I sound, I will continue to say it: Thank you so much for sticking with this, from the bottom of my heart.

Warning: This chapter contains heavy triggers. Rated M for mentions of various types of harassment (violent, physical, emotional, and sexual)

The Soloist – Chapter X

The Vitamin String Quartet: "Hallelujah"

His movements were smooth, yet his music was coarse. His arms were steady and his fingers precise, yet his melody quivered in the air. The song itself was as gritty and battered and torn as the violin on which it was being played.

No one moved. No one spoke. Blaine doubted anyone even took a breath until all were sure the song had come to an end. To have done so, Blaine felt, would have been wrong. It would have been irreverent.

When the final note finally melted into silence, the room remained still. In front of the motionless, soundless chamber, Kurt didn't even look up from his instrument upon finishing. He slowly stood and swept into a bow, keeping his eyes down, then encased his violin, and moved back to his seat.

Blaine hadn't even noticed the wary applause that had broken out among the other musicians at some point between Kurt's bow and his retaking his seat.

He, like so many of the others, was numb.

When the chamber was dismissed, Blaine wasn't quick enough to catch Kurt disappearing backstage or elsewhere in the sea of exhausted musicians. For a moment, he panicked, thinking Kurt had left without speaking to him, or even acknowledging him, at the very least. In a moment of startling familiarity, though, he realized as the crowd dissipated that Kurt's music, coat, and instrument all remained at his seat.

Just as they had the night he and Blaine first met, all those months ago.

Blaine nodded or waved to his other friends as they departed, catching a knowing glance from Finn that was just dutiful enough to make him slightly more nervous than he already was.

He could only wait.

As the last seven, six, five musicians slowly packed up, Blaine put his fingers to the keys, and played softly. It was the only way to keep himself calm.

Under his breath, he murmured the lyrics.

"… but it flew away, mmmm… so she ran away, hmmm… dreamed of…"

D… minor… B flat… F… F, C… B flat, A… A, G… B flat, D, C…

"… life goes on, it gets so heavy… mmmm… breaks the butterfly… every tear, a waterfall… in the night, the stormy night, she closed her eyes…"

"I love that song."

The B flat held, rang, and faded beneath Blaine's motionless hands.

Slowly, he lifted them from the keys, and brought them to his lap, then relieved the pedal. He kept his eyes on the keyboard and said, simply, "Me too."

A few seconds of silence passed, Blaine resigning himself to the fact that someone needed to make the first move.

He pushed the bench back and stood, stepped out from his spot at the piano, took a deep breath, and turned to start the conversation they both knew they had to have. "Kurt, I…"

In the blink of an eye, Blaine stumbled back against the piano as Kurt threw his arms around him and hugged him tighter than he had ever been hugged in his life. He felt Kurt press his face into his neck, felt as he breathed deeply while pressed against him. And Blaine wrapped his arms around Kurt's back, holding firmly to his sides, breathed him in, and felt as though he could have cried.

Finally, Blaine felt Kurt pulling away. And while he didn't ever want to let him go, a part of him thrilled at the thought of once again being able to gaze into his kind, beautiful eyes without fear of seeing him hurt, or upset, or, heaven forbid, unforgiving.

And they stopped Blaine in his tracks, Kurt's eyes did. His hands remained lightly holding Kurt's waist, but his breath hitched in his chest, and he could only stare as Kurt stared back at him, apologetic and desperate to be understood but so very fulfilled to be here, with Blaine, wrapped in his loving arms once again.

Blaine was almost unable to find his voice.

"Oh… oh, Kurt…"

"Blaine…" Kurt shook his head a little, rested his hands on Blaine's shoulders, and began, quiet but steady, "I am so sorry for what I did to you. And please don't tell me not to apologize," he added in a whisper, with a kind little laugh that made Blaine laugh as well, and made the lump in his throat bigger and brought the tears behind his eyes a little closer to falling.

"Regardless of… of whether or not I had a good reason to do what I did," Kurt said, his voice low and his face sincere, "I know it must have hurt you. And that's what I'm apologizing for, Blaine. I'm sorry that I hurt you. And I…" suddenly, his voice shook, and his eyes became sad and full of regret. He took a breath, and whispered, "And I never, ever… ever… want to hurt you, Blaine. Never."

"Kurt, I… I know," Blaine said softly, rubbing his thumbs gently over Kurt's sides and looking straight into his shining eyes. "It's all right," he assured him, when apology swam again through his icy blue eyes, "I know… I know."

For one blissful moment, Kurt looked completely at peace. He was staring into Blaine's eyes, lost in them, and Blaine had never seen him look so… so as if everything was really going to be all right. It was only a moment, though. When it passed, that anxiety Blaine wished Kurt would never have to feel again came back into his eyes. As it did, Blaine felt Kurt pull their bodies closer and tighten his hold on Blaine's shoulders.

His eyes wandered a bit, and he murmured, "It's just… Blaine," their eyes met again, "there are things about me, things that I try to… to erase, to forget… but can't… that I've kept from you. And…"

Blaine could feel his heart picking up speed, and as Kurt swallowed and stammered to continue, he was fairly certain the feeling was mutual.

"… And… that I… that I don't know if I can tell you right this second but that I, I, I don't think I can hold inside me much longer…"

When Kurt's breathing began to hitch and his voice nearly cracked, Blaine brought his hands to Kurt's cheeks and pulled him close, whispering, "Hey… hey…"

"I'm so sorry…"

"Don't apologize…"

"I'm… sorry…"

Somehow, Kurt choked out a laugh, and Blaine laughed too, and pulled him in for another embrace.

Against the warmth of Kurt's neck, Blaine murmured softly, "How about we just… walk… for a while?"

He waited, leaning into Kurt with his eyes closed, until Kurt's slightly muffled voice responded, "I'd… I'd like that, Blaine. Very much."

Blaine and Kurt stepped out into the cold, wintery, yet bustling city night. They did not speak, but their hands were clasped tightly and Blaine could feel Kurt keeping close to him for warmth.

The silence between them stretched until the Palladium was far behind them and they were approaching the intersection of 58th and Broadway.

"That song…" Blaine suddenly said, "… that was Hans Zimmer, wasn't it?"

They turned to look at each other as they stepped off of the sidewalk to cross the street, curiously few other pedestrians around them. Kurt's face was as white as the snow piled high on the ground, almost aglow beneath the streetlights.

"Mmhm," he murmured, a small smile appearing on his lips. It faded quickly, though. "I kind of… understand it. Not sure if that makes any sense…"

"It makes perfect sense," Blaine interrupted. "I don't know how, really," he offered, when Kurt raised an eyebrow, "but it does. It did, when you were playing it. It's almost like it was written for-"

"Do you hear that?"

"Hear wha…"

Grasping Blaine's hand tightly, Kurt stopped at the edge of Columbus Circle. Blaine gazed at him questioningly until he realized why Kurt was smilingly hopefully once again.

Just a few yards away, the applause of a small crowd of people was dying down as music began to fill the air.

A string quartet of three men and one young woman played just beside the center structure, despite the sparse audience and, apparently, the cold. They played beautifully.

"Do you want to listen?" Blaine asked.

Unable to hide his happiness, Kurt bit his bottom lip and nodded, and Blaine laughed and pulled him closer.

They stood together behind an old man and woman – a couple – who held hands and swayed slightly, like they were waltzing together somewhere far, far away.

"I wish I could do that," Kurt said.

Blaine, who'd been so fixated on the lovely, heartwarming scene before him, turned to Kurt a little dazed. "W… what?"

"I wish I could do that," Kurt repeated, gesturing with his head towards – Blaine eventually realized – not the couple before them, but the musicians. "Play outside, for different people. Not just experts who come to the Palladium to hear Will's latest masterworks, and not just my family, but… other people… real people."

"You could, you know," Blaine said.

Kurt turned to him. "I suppose I could," he mused, "but I'm… I don't know. Comfortable here, I guess," he settled for. But Blaine could tell that 'comfortable' hadn't been the word he was searching for.

"Just because somewhere or, or something isn't bad… doesn't necessarily mean you should settle for it," Blaine said, watching as the musicians dropped the first verse into a soft, purposeful transition, playing a song he was beginning to recognize…

Kurt's voice was barely a whisper. "Yeah," he said, his breath a cloud of icy air.

Almost as if pulled by some kind of magnetic force, Blaine hooked his hand around Kurt's elbow, leaned in close, and laid his head gently on Kurt's shoulder. He felt a smile play on his lips when he realized how perfectly he fit there, and he was fairly certain he felt Kurt shake with endeared laughter, when suddenly, the lyrics escaped him:

"There's a blaze of light in every word… it doesn't matter which you heard… the holy or the broken Hallelujah…"

Blaine felt a sudden warmth rush through his veins when he realized that Kurt had begun to lean his own head down against Blaine's. He stopped murmuring the lyrics under his breath, and was perfectly content to just listen, and breathe.

Blaine fidgeted a bit when he felt a tickle on his cheek, and soon opened his eyes to see a dusting of snow drifting down from the hazy, almost purple night sky.

"Hey, it's snow… Kurt?"

Blaine lifted his head from Kurt's shoulder, and glanced up just in time to see a single tear fall from one of his watery blue eyes.

With one side of his head still tingling from where Kurt's had rested upon it, Blaine placed his gloved hands gently on Kurt's shoulders and asked, quietly, "Kurt, what's… what's wrong?"

"I just…" miserably, he laughed in spite of himself and glanced hopelessly up to the sky then down to the ground, eyes reflecting lamplight from every direction as he did. "I can't do this anymore," he whispered, finally.

Blaine's heart dropped momentarily and he stammered, "You mean… me? Kurt, do you… you mean you don't… want this…?"

"No, no, no," Kurt shook his head vehemently, still speaking just so that Blaine could hear, "That's not it, not at all. I mean I can't… I can't keep this from you, Blaine." He swallowed hard, and more tears rolled down his cheeks. Blaine's heart sank deep into his stomach. "Not for another minute. Because… because you're so good to me," he said, "right down to the way you look at me when I say things, and how close you stand, and the sweet, kind way you touch me like it's no big deal… I can't… I can't keep this a secret anymore. I can't."

Blaine could feel his heartbeat in his very temples. He held Kurt there, not knowing what to say, until, finally…

"Come home with me?"

Kurt wiped his eyes on the backs of his gloves, and nodded.

"Okay."

Blaine brought Kurt into the house, switching on the living room light when they entered. They took a few minutes to remove their coats, scarves, boots, gloves, and to shake the snow out of each other's hair.

When Kurt was finally free of his many layers, down to only his soft, long-sleeved v-neck, his socks, and his dark jeans, Blaine placed a hand comfortingly on his back and steered him toward the stairs.

"Go on up," he said, "My bedroom's the door on the left. Try to relax for a bit, and I'll bring you something, okay?"

Kurt nodded, silently mouthing a "Thank you," before giving Blaine his best effort at a smile, then ascending the stairs, going into Blaine's room, turning on the light, and disappearing from sight.

When Kurt had first said that there was something he needed to tell Blaine, Blaine's heart had begun to race. Because, this was it. Kurt was about trust Blaine fully, completely, and let him in. And he felt that the feeling would continue, all the way until the conversation began, but… surprisingly, it had been replaced by a strange calm. Blaine found that, as he entered the kitchen and began fixing a pot of coffee, he was less concerned with the anticipation of it all, and far more concerned with Kurt himself, and what this was going to be like for him. And that, if anything, was surely what had caused Blaine's initial excitement to dissipate, making way for this new feeling of having to be safeguarding, protective, compassionate.

When the coffee was done, Blaine poured two mugs and added creamer and sugar to both. Holding one in each hand, he left the kitchen, made his way upstairs, and went into his bedroom.

And there was Kurt, curled up above the covers on Blaine's mattress, but not on the side Blaine generally occupied; on the side that, when Blaine slept, remained empty. Almost as if he knew.

There was something about the way he had closed in on himself… the way he was wrapped up in his own arms, the way half of his troubled countenance was hidden in one of Blaine's soft pillows, the way his sock-clad feet rubbed against one another nervously… that made him look so very young. And yes, he was only twenty-one, still a kid, for all intents and purposes, but even more so now.

Blaine made his way over to the nightstand on Kurt's side and set down the mug. "It's decaf," he murmured, and he could have sworn he caught just the slightest hint of a smile.

He then walked around the bed, took a sip of his own mug before setting it down on the other nightstand, and then climbed onto his spot. And he was just beginning to think that he would have to come up with some way of gently coaxing Kurt to come out of his little burrow and trust Blaine, and talk to him, when Kurt, slowly, deliberately, hoisted himself into a sitting position, then turned to face Blaine on the bed, crossing his legs into a pretzel.

He kept his eyes down, fixed on his hands which were resting, folded, in his lap.

"Blaine, I…" he began. He took a few moments to himself, just to breathe, then finally looked up from his lap and into Blaine's eyes. "This is going to be… um… hard. So I just want to say I'm sorry right now if… if I have trouble, or I stop…"

"Kurt, don't apologize. You don't have to, ever, but especially not now," Blaine said, as sincerely as he possibly could. "This isn't about me, Kurt. This is about you. I'm here right now… for you. Okay?"

Tears threatened to fall again, but somehow, Kurt managed to hold them back as he nodded gratefully to Blaine. Finally, he gave Blaine a quiet, shaky, "Okay," in response.

Blaine nodded, letting him know, it was okay to start.

"I guess I'll… start at the, um, beginning." He took a heavy sigh, and began.

"I was teased a lot, in high school. Freshman year was… hell. But, the funny thing is, I wasn't teased for being gay. I was teased because I was… small, quiet, studious," he laughed, dryly, "But not for being gay… until… until my sophomore year. I was… outed," he breathed. "Some kids… found a note, that I had written… like a fucking idiot," he winced, "to this boy in my grade who I… liked. I had never intended to actually give it to him," Kurt explained, "Just… um… I was just…"

"Pretending," Blaine whispered.

Kurt nodded, sadly. But something in his eyes told Blaine that Kurt knew Blaine understood exactly what he had been doing, and that Blaine had done that same thing, many times. Made up fantasies in his head, of the perfect life with the perfect boy.

"Anyway," he sniffled, "the bullying just got worse. It was… was more… targeted. Planned. Organized, in a way. It became more emotional, more physical, more everything… and then there… there were… these… these, um…"

Kurt's breathing quickened, his gaze dropped, his eyes began to water, and Blaine just hated seeing him like this so much he could barely stand it, but was suddenly strengthened by the thought that whatever he was feeling, Kurt was getting the same thing, tenfold. And Kurt needed him to be the strong one.

"It's okay, it's okay… Kurt, it's okay…" Blaine took Kurt's cheeks in his hands and held up his head. "Kurt, do you need to stop?"

Kurt mumbled incoherently, trying to form an answer, but instead, resorted to shaking his head 'no,' taking Blaine's hands and pulling them down to his lap, where he clasped them in his own. He breathed hard, until it had slowed, and he shook his head again. "No," he said, softly, "No, no, I… I have to. I have to do this."

Blaine held Kurt's hands tightly, and told him with his eyes, he would listen as long as Kurt wanted him to.

"There were these guys," he said, quickly, as if trying to spit it all out before he could stumble again. "They were… um… they were in, in my grade. And from… from, from like… the middle of my sophomore year to my senior year… they would… do these things like, no one else did. Like, everyone was mean. It was just… that was just a thing, everyone was mean. But, but there were these guys that would try to… like… um… provoke me."

As gently as he could, Blaine asked, "Provoke you… how, exactly?"

"They, um…" Kurt sniffled again, and wiped his eyes on the back of his hand, "They would say things to me that were… were so… they would ask me things that were… um… like… intimate. And… I guess, graphic, in a way."

Blaine looked at him curiously, and he went on to attempt to explain, "Like, um… weird… scenarios. Like, like, "Kurt, if I… did so-and-so to you… how would you feel?" or, "Kurt, if I were to…" his breath hitched again, but he pressed on, "… touch you… somewhere… would you enjoy it?" or, "Kurt, would it… would it… 'turn you on…' if I… did so-and-so to myself?" I mean, you… you get the picture…"

At that point, anxiety began to creep back into Blaine. Horrifying, terrifying thoughts nagged at the back of his mind but he pushed them back, back, back… because he didn't want them to be true, but at the same time, he had this sick, sick feeling that he knew what kind of story this was…

"But I was so afraid of them," Kurt said, with a sound that was almost a whimper, so small and desperate Blaine almost lost himself again. "I was so… just… really, really scared that if… if I tried to get help or asked them to stop or told someone about it that… that something terrible would happen, so I just tried to… to ignore them. I tried so hard, I just didn't talk, and I didn't do anything, but it kept happening and… and eventually… senior year… um… I, I, they, I…"

"Kurt, just stop for a minute, okay?"

"No, no I… Blaine… I have to…"

"Blaine… I… One day, I stayed at school late, and I went down to the locker rooms to look for my phone," he continued, in a strangely coherent yet definitely forced voice. He was determined. Blaine could hear it, and he could see it. Once again, they were eye-to-eye.

"I thought I was alone, but I heard the door, and five of them were there. Probably after practice, but the coach and everyone else was gone. It was just me, and, and then… they started it again. Saying those kinds of things, getting too close, and I tried to get away, tried to just leave, and… and that's when one of them grabbed me."

No. "Kurt…"

"He held me back. I couldn't leave." He swallowed hard. His throat was dry, and so was Blaine's. "And they kept saying those… those things. Those horrible… horrible things… and I tried to get away, believe me, I, I… I tried so hard…"

God, no. No. "Oh… oh, Kurt…"

"But it was only a matter of time before saying… turned to doing."

No. No, no, no...

Kurt's eyes were dark and watery, and his voice was low. He didn't look like Kurt. He was almost frightening to look at.

"It wasn't aggressive at first," he said. Slowly, he was starting to cry. "At first, it was… frighteningly gentle… teasing… but then, then the things they started to say became… harsh. And then, the way they started to… to touch me, that got harsh too. And there… there was nothing I could do, I fought, but… but… the more I fought, the more… aggressive they became, and… and…"

Blaine's stomach churned. His throat closed up. His hands were clammy. He felt like he was going to vomit. He was sure he looked it too.

"And then I screamed. And they…" his voice broke, and so did his face. He closed in on himself, his mask gone, and cried, "They held me down… four of them… threat… threatened to s-s-strangle me if I… if I screamed… and the one… the one who was always the worst, he… he… he…"

Blaine felt himself choke up a sob. He could barely see Kurt, his eyes were so filled with tears. And he hated himself for crying, because it wasn't helping. He wasn't able to help, wasn't able to change it, and there was nothing he could do about that.

"I don't know how long they held me there, while he… while he…"

"Kurt…"

"I don't know, because I can't remember anything but… but the… humiliation… the terror… the… helplessness, and… and the… the pain…"

Blaine wanted to let his face fall into his hands. He wanted to press his palms to his eyes and cry, and never stop. But he couldn't. All he could do was stare through a cloud of tears at Kurt, who looked like he had absolutely no reason to go on, nothing left to live for.

Blaine was watching him, and his heart was breaking.

"Kurt… is that why… when I…. when I touched you…"

"Yes." Somberly, Kurt nodded. "Up until that day back in high school, I had never… I hadn't…" Kurt's face began to redden, and Blaine simply nodded, indicating that yes, he understood. He was a virgin when they did it to him. Probably never even had a boyfriend. Probably hadn't even been kissed… God… God, why…

"And after that… and after the recovery… I…" he took a moment to breathe, to wipe his eyes… "I told myself, 'Never again.' I never wanted it again. Never wanted… sex. Any kind. With anyone. Ever. I did not want it. Until… until I met you."

Blaine's heart skipped a beat.

"Blaine, you…" Blaine could see that it was taking everything Kurt had to keep his composure, but still, he pressed on, "… you were the first person that when I… when I thought about… when I thought about loving you, it wasn't frightening. It wasn't scary. It was… it was a good thought. Something I didn't want to back away and hide from.

"And that night at your house, I wanted… so badly… to do more than kiss. I didn't want to… to do anything drastic," he said, "but that touch was wanted, Blaine. You have to know that. I wanted that touch. But then… then when it happened… all I could see was him… and that… that horrible, horrible smile… and I could feel them holding me down and I couldn't… I couldn't do it…"

"Kurt," Blaine managed, even with the painful lump in his throat threatening to steal his voice away any second, "I am… so… so… sorry."

Even on his blotched, flushed, tear-streaked face, Kurt's smile was breathtaking. "I know you are, Blaine. I know."

Normally, Blaine felt as though he wouldn't have wanted to ask. After what Kurt had just done, though – laid himself bare, trusted Blaine completely – he knew it would be okay. "Kurt… why didn't you tell me? That night, why didn't you tell me?"

Suddenly, Blaine could see in Kurt's eyes that there was more to this story.

"I… I couldn't, Blaine."

"But…" as gently as he could… "I just really, really hope you know how much I care about you, and that I would never, never have… have hurt you. You could have – you can – trust me. You know that, right?"

Kurt nodded quickly. "I do, I do… but I… Oh God, I just…"

"Oh Kurt, it's okay, you don't have to tell me…"

"No, no, I…" he took another deep, steadying breath. "I pushed you away. And when I did… when I backed away from you, and started crying… it was because… it… was… it was…"

No, God, please…

No prayer could stop it – Kurt's face fell, and he cried.

Blaine reached out, both afraid and compelled to comfort him at the same time. His hand found one of Kurt's, and Kurt flinched, but didn't pull away. "It was because of what… Kurt?"

Through his crying, he murmured a sentence Blaine could not make out.

"… what, Kurt?"

"It was because…." Unintelligible.

Blaine leaned in, grasping Kurt's hand a little tighter. "You can tell me, Kurt… why did you start crying after you pushed me away?"

So quiet, Blaine could just make out…

"Because I knew if I told you, you wouldn't want me anymore."

To be continued. Love you all.