Oh I just wanna hold ya,
Give a little time to me, to burn this out,
we'll play hide and seek to turn this around
all I want is the taste that your lips allow,
my my, my my, give me love.

Something Beautiful
Chapter 10

Blaine hummed absently, stirring the sauce into the pasta and tapping his foot to the slow background music he'd provided to set the atmosphere. He got bored of the song after a while, walking over to his iPod dock to change it as soon as he heard an impatient rapping at the door. Kurt.

He grinned. Everything had just been so perfect lately; he didn't even know how to describe it. Kurt was just so... he didn't even have a word to sum him up yet. He sighed dreamily, something he had been doing a lot today during his daydreaming sessions. He's just right.

Blaine yanked the embarrassing apron over his head and threw it onto the armchair in his living room, walking swiftly to the door; the knocking had become so loud it sounded like someone was trying to break his door down.

"Hey gorgeous, I just-oof!" He had only opened the door the tiniest bit and Kurt had squeezed through, launching himself at Blaine with insane force, crying and sobbing hysterically, unable to form proper sentences. Blaine stood, confused, listening to the heartbreaking sounds of his boyfriend's tears, rubbing gentle soothing hands up his back. "Shh, Kurt, sweetheart, I've got you"

Blaine reassured him, holding him tightly until he wilted slightly in Blaine's arms, snuggling into his chest, willing for it all to disappear, and not wanting to explain to his boyfriend why he was so upset. Somehow, throughout Kurt's hysterics, Blaine had managed to manoeuvre him to the sofa, pulling him down on it, still unsure, and holding him as tight as he could, rocking him gently and pressing soothing kisses to his forehead, his eyelids, his nose, his temple. They never quite reached his lips, but they were enough to calm him momentarily before he burst out into tears again.

XOXO

"And I swear Blaine, he had a knife, I'm not even over exaggerating here, I saw it! It was shining! And he was running, and-and..." Kurt just burst out into tears again, soaking Blaine's already drenched shirt in more tears.

"Shh, shh baby, it's okay, I'm here, I've got you" he cooed into Kurt's hair, rocking him slowly. They hadn't moved from the sofa, and the dinner was probably burnt by now, but neither of the men could bring themselves to care.

"B-Blaine"

"No, shh, Kurt, it's okay, we don't have to talk about it anymore if you don't want t-"

"No, Blaine I need to-" he whined, frustrated that Blaine wasn't listening to him.

"I'm here, Kurt"

"Blaine! God dammit, listen to me!" Blaine was taken aback by Kurt's raised voice and angry expression, he'd pulled away from Blaine embrace and shuffled away from him, his fists clenched. This was a new look for Kurt, it was usually Blaine who got all frustrated and angry, but he'd never seen Kurt act this way before.

Blaine gave Kurt the silence he needed, keeping his distance until Kurt's breathing slowed and his fists loosened slightly. "I need to tell you something" he said finally, his calm facade returning.

"What is it?" Blaine asked cautiously, not sure if he wanted to know or not...

"Promise me you won't get mad?" Blaine hesitated and Kurt shook his head, moving back towards him, gripping both of his hands, "No- Blaine, promise me, because this is going to make you so angry, and...I- I don't know what I'll do" his voice cracked at the end of the sentence and guilt washed over Blaine as he brought Kurt's hand to his lips, pressing a soft kiss to it before nodding slowly.

"I...I took a taxi home, you know that" Kurt paused, trying to figure out the best way to say oh, by the way, your dad was my taxi driver without trying to make it sound awkward. Blaine nodded dumbly. "I...well, I was in shock and, I didn't notice-I, I know I should have, but..."

"Did he charge you the wrong amount?" Blaine asked, confused, after Kurt took too long to stutter his words out. He looked at Kurt worriedly, his brow furrowed, holding both of Kurt's hands in his and desperately wanting to understand.

Kurt shook his head in frustration, "I...when I realised-"he paused, tightening his hold on Blaine's hands "I recognised his voice, Blaine" he waited for Kurt to continue, deciding it probably wasn't best to jump to conclusions and bombard him with questions. "It was your father"

Blaine's mind went blank as soon as the words left Kurt's mouth; his sat in silence for a few moments, before he felt something building up in his chest and he just flipped. A low growl came from his chest and he stood, trying to get his words out, but failing and just managing to pace slightly, storming around the room like some sort of tornado.

"Blaine, sit down! Please! You're...Blaine!" Kurt shrieked as he watched his boyfriend smash his fist into the lampshade, sending it flying across the room and landing on the ground, a shattering sound erupted and shards of glass flew out in different directions against the wall.

"What did he say to you Kurt? Did he touch you? Did he hurt you? Did he mention me? Did he see the house? Does he know it's my house?" Blaine raised his voice, hysterical with questions which Kurt struggled to answer all at once.

"I-I don't know! He saw the house, he knows the address...B-but he didn't say or do anything... the way he was looking at me really scared me though" Kurt sank back into the sofa, and Blaine immediately rushed to comfort him in case he burst into tears again.

"You're here now, Kurt, I've got you. He isn't going to hurt you. No one will" The way Blaine said it through clenched teeth, so determinedly, so surely, as if he was completely positive no harm would come to him, and if it did, it had to get past Blaine first. Kurt had never seen protective Blaine before...and if he was quite honest, it was kinda hot.

Kurt rubbed his hand up Blaine's arm flirtily, reaching his bicep and squeezing slightly. He was still scared out of his mind from the stalker and Blaine's dad, but he figured his could afford to push it to one side for a minute and try to forget. And Kurt knew the best way to make himself lose his mind was the feeling of Blaine's lips against his.

XOXO

"Kurt" Blaine whined, "Oh fuck, that feels so good" he said breathily as Kurt kissed messily at Blaine's neck, his hands tangled in his shirt possessively and clawing underneath at his tan skin.

"I'm hardly doing anything" Kurt laughed, and the sound of his husky voice from kissing made Blaine swoon. Kurt stroked over the defined muscles he felt under his touch, which Blaine sighed contently at.

"Mmm," Blaine opened his eyes lazily; they were heavy lidded with wide pupils, staring at Kurt. "Trust me, you're doing everything" He stared intensely at Kurt for another second before he was rushing forwards again to attach his lips to Kurt's.

Tongues battled un-co-ordinately, hands squeezing at biceps but not moving to remove any layers of clothing, just the feel of finally being close to each other was enough. Kurt shifted slightly, half straddling Blaine on the bed, sitting down on his thighs and pressing closer to get more access to his mouth. Blaine let out a small grunt, hands going to Kurt's waist, gripping it almost painfully when Kurt's movements were beginning to cause awkward consequences inside Blaine's boxers.

Luckily though, Kurt hadn't spotted it yet, and continued to press his lips to any part of Blaine he could find, arms wound securely round Blaine's neck, who sat with his back to the headboard. They fidgeted around on the bed until Kurt was sitting in Blaine's lap, his legs wrapped tightly around Blaine's torso, squeezing him closer to him as their kissing became more heated.

Before he knew it, Blaine's mind had drifted to the feeling of Kurt's entrance being so close to his cock, and had absentmindedly began rubbing against him. Kurt was too drunk with lust he didn't even notice until he realised just how good it felt to be like this on top of Blaine...and then he realised the reason why it felt so good, and both men were falling off each other, rolling away to separate sides as Blaine rolled straight off his side of the bed and on to the floor.

They both started speaking at the same time, interrupting each other and then gesturing for the other man to continue speaking at the same time. They both laughed nervously before Blaine broke the barrier.

"I-Kurt...we shouldn't have done that..." He says hesitantly, a frown on his features. Kurt winces at the same time.

"I know, it's way too early, but Blaine I...I'm sorry I shouldn't have let- I just-" Kurt panicked, and Blaine slid across the bed to pull him into his arms.

"It's okay, Kurt. It's fine," they veered backwards until they were cuddled up against the headboard together in a tight embrace. "yes, it's a little early for..that yet, but I trust you, I wasn't uncomfortable, and I'm sorry if it felt like I was using you as a re-bound, because that's honestly not why this happened, Kurt, I pro-"

"Shh, Blaine, It's okay, I know" he smiled lopsidedly at Blaine before pressing his face back into Blaine's chest, focusing on the little puffs of air he was breathing out against Kurt's hair, and the rise and fall of his chest, accompanied by the steady beat of his heart.

They stayed like that in silence for a while, Blaine's dinner probably gone cold still sitting downstairs waiting to be served onto plates. Neither man was particularly bothered about that though. Tonight had just made Blaine realise that this was actually real, his father really was in New York, he was telling the truth on that voicemail. The thought of him even breathing the same air as Kurt made Blaine feel sick to the core. Blaine didn't want his father anywhere near him, or Kurt.

After a while Blaine heard Kurt's breathing even out and looked down to the angel who was settled in his lap. He was snoring softly, half of his face pressed into the pillow, the other half was moulded to Blaine's chest, a fist clutching his t-shirt when a little dent of frustration appeared between his eyebrows. Blaine brushed Kurt's hair from his forehead, smiling at the peacefully snoozing man; staying just a few more minutes to marvel at his beauty.

After another 10 minutes staring creepily at his boyfriend's sleeping face, Blaine tried to untangle himself from Kurt's gripping and twisting limbs, barely managing to escape without hopping from the bed with his foot caught in the duvet, trying to shake it off but walking into the door at the same time. Very graceful, Blaine. Brilliant.

He made his way downstairs, tidying a few things away, including their abandoned dinner, which was re-located to the microwave after deciding not to let all of his hard work go to waste and thinking of eating it later once Kurt had awoken from his nap. There was nothing on television, as usual, but he decided to sit and flick mindlessly through the boring channels in his living room anyway; although he couldn't take his gaze from the closed white door in the corner of the room, glancing repeatedly at it, as if it was calling his name or sending magic invisible vibes to guide him towards it.

He gave in, pulling himself up and reaching for the door handle that lead him to his favourite room in the house. He entered the small room which was quite ironically filled entirely by one huge grand piano, which had been previously abandoned, waiting for Blaine's next visit. He sank into the stool, lifting the lid and brushing his fingers slowly over the ivory keys, not pressing enough to make sound, but enough to make contact with the keys. He didn't know how long he'd sat there, playing random short tunes and intervals and wallowing in self pity and his own thoughts until he heard shuffling behind him, and turned to see an adorable sleepy looking Kurt.

He seemed reluctant at first, but then walked over without a word, swinging a leg round cautiously when he reached the bench and sank down next to Blaine. Kurt shuffled closer on the bench until their thighs were pressed together and rested his head on Blaine's left shoulder. He let his eyes fall shut when he heard a soft slow melody drifting from the instrument below them. He only lifted his head and snapped his eyes open when a voice began to sing along side the melody.

I will not make
the same mistakes that you did

His fingers moved gracefully along the ivory keys with so much ease as if it was as easy as breathing. Kurt had never heard Blaine sing before, but he was astonished to find how breath taking his voice was.

I will not let myself
cause my heart so much misery

Blaine paused slightly and his eyes stung with unshed tears of how much he could relate to this song, the memories it held; how he would sit in his room for hours in the fetal position as a teenage boy and cry for all he was worth after his father would abuse him, how he would try and cover the bruises the next day, although no one would bother to ask either way even if they did happen to see them.

I will not break
the way you did, you fell so hard

He was also reminded of the times he was strong, the times he didn't let his emotions engulf him until he crumbled and fell to pieces. No, he held on that little bit longer each time, and prayed to a god that never listened.

I've learned the hard way
to never let it get that far

Kurt let his hand rest on Blaine's left thigh, trying to offer some sort of comfort, sensing the power and emotion behind this song, he understood more than anyone how the lyrics of a song could be and mean much more than just words.

Because of you,
I never stray too far from the sidewalk
Because of you,
I learned to play on the safe side so I don't get hurt

Blaine concentrated on the flow of his fingers, the touch of hard ivory against his soft fingertips, it had been so long since he'd played. He'd always thought it pointless to have a room with just a piano inside it, although when he first moved into this house, it was a huge reminder of his childhood and he knew that he had no choice but to put it there. To lock it away somewhere, in a small hidden box room where no one could find it; because as much as it brought him to joy reminiscing the times where music was his escape, how the flow and stretch of his fingers could create the perfect melody with little practise; it was also a cruel reminder of the past. A reminder of the actual reason he escaped in the first place.

Because of you
I find it hard to trust
not only me, but everyone around me
Because of you, I am afraid

Blaine was never a dumb child. He understood. He knew the reason for most things in life, although as a young teenage boy, he never could understand why his own father would beat him for the sake of it. He never realised what he was doing wrong, he could even remember sat at least three times a week going through lists of possible reasons as to why his dad could treat him so badly.

I lose my way
and it's not too long before you point it out

He would cross off one of his theories from his list each week after stopping from doing it, to see if his father treated him any different. For example, he remembers the blurry memory of trying not to talk with his mouthful as much at dinner to see if that was the reason, yet he still got his thighs slapped with a belt afterwards as per usual; so, he decided, that couldn't have been it. The young boy would try and iron out details each night, treating himself as some sort of medical experiment in attempt to figure out what was wrong with him.

I cannot cry
because I know that's weakness in your eyes.

Blaine's voice wavered as he was reminded the truthfulness of that line in the song. He remembered it all too well, how he would be slapped around the face, thrown around the room, gashed with a belt, kicked until he cried, and then kicked even harder just for showing his emotions.

I'm forced to fake
A smile, a laugh, every day of my life

He considered the truth in that line for a moment. His friends never did seem to notice, maybe that was because Blaine was so much happier outside of home and in his safe cavern of school, saved by his music that no one suspected anything was wrong. He didn't blame them. He couldn't. He only had himself to blame.

My heart can't possibly break
when it wasn't even whole to start with

Self harm was never an option. He was always too weak to endure it anyway. He couldn't cut himself because he had already lost too much blood from the slashes of the sharp edge of the belt slapped against his skin, the gashes in his scalp from where he had been thrown across a room and hit the corner of a door or collided with a bookshelf.

Because of you
I never stray too far from the sidewalk
Because of you
I learned to play on the safe side so I don't get hurt

He didn't want pity. His father gave him enough of that. He had been told so many times that he was worthless and he didn't deserve to live, that he was indoctrinated enough to believe it was true. He knew he was some sort of evil species, yet try as he might, as hard as he prayed to the god that didn't exist, he never replied.

Because of you
I find it hard to trust
Not only me, but everyone around me
Because of you, I am afraid

He was vaguely aware of the splashes of liquid hitting his cheeks, but his body had gone numb, and he couldn't even feel himself playing anymore. Still, he forced open his eyes, hearing the melody still pouring from the piano, and knew that it was now just how it always has been. His one escape... music. Blaine knew that the pain of his father's knuckles digging into his shoulder blades became less apparent and they numbed much faster if he concentrated so hard on the words flying around his head, the melody screaming so loud inside his brain that he couldn't hear the abuse his father was spitting and screaming at him in between the punches. He found that he blacked out much quicker if he turned his attention to something else and let the pain take over him, that suddenly; things weren't so bad anymore, and the pain just became a daily routine.

I watched you die, I heard you cry
Every night in your sleep

Kurt was frozen, unaware of anything that was spilling through Blaine's mind, only focused on the tears streaming from his screwed closed eyes. He wrapped his arm even stronger around Blaine's waist and gripped his thigh, leaning into his side and closing his eyes. Letting the emotional sound of Blaine's flawless voice overwhelm him.

I was so young, you should have known
better than to lean on me

He thought of his mother, her small defenceless frame. Her small dainty hands only useful for knitting. Her short curly hair, coming to a halt at her shoulders. He remembers wondering. Wondering if she ever got hurt as badly as he did. He wondered whether she got beaten every night too, coming to the theory that she must be, because everyone was, right? It was normal to be beaten. Normal to be smashed with a baseball bat every now and then to 'toughen you up' as Blaine's father always spat at him after calling him a 'worthless petty little fag'

You never thought of anyone else
You just saw your pain

He was still numb as he remembered that one time that his grandma came to stay. Blaine's father's mother. Blaine remembers wondering whether things would stay the same with his daily beatings or whether grandma would need a time slot to get beaten up too; Blaine was so used to it by now he thought it was normal. That every child got beaten for unfair reasons and sometimes even adults too, and it's just something you had to put up with. It was obviously not important either way. Blaine only got beaten when no one was around to watch, and even if they were, they just stared at him like he was a television. Like it was entertaining to watch a boy get beaten to a pulp, because he 'deserved it'. Because he 'chose this' he chose to be mocked, taunted, beaten, bashed, and screamed at every day of his life, not only by his family, by society. He was neglected by everyone.

Because of you,
I never stray too far from the sidewalk
Because of you,
I learned to play on the safe side so I don't get hurt

He let the tears fall, baring his soul to Kurt. He never let anybody see him cry. It was a reflex action, knowing that if he cried as a child he would only get hit harder. But sitting here, with Kurt by his side, comforting him, he felt like he might just develop that tiny little bit of strength to break free one day. He wanted nothing but to iron over the bumpy scars on his skin, rip apart the memories and slash knives against everybody who once taunted or hurt him. He felt anger. Anger and pain towards those who neglected him. Those who failed to acknowledge he existed.

Because of you,
I tried my hardest just to forget everything
Because of you,
I don't know how to let anyone else in

Blaine sang at the top of his lungs, almost screaming with the relief of letting his emotions run free, the fear tumbling out of him and the anger snarling along the surface. Right then, nothing stood in his way. Not his father, those bullies and homophobes from high school, not anyone who once told him that he couldn't be who he wanted to be; none of them mattered anymore. He screamed with frustration, exhilaration and practise. He screamed because maybe his father could hear him from where he was, maybe he would come running, fall at his feet at Blaine's doorstep and apologise for all he was worth. Maybe he realised that everything he had once done was wrong. That he was a monster. And that he made Blaine into one too.

Because of you,
I'm ashamed of my life, because it's empty
Because of you, I am afraid

Everything recoiled like an elastic band and all the feelings he let loose came rushing back to his body, diving back inside like a breath of fresh air, they went back to their safe confines inside the imaginary bottle inside Blaine's body. And that's where they would stay until he could escape again. Bottled up so nobody could cause anymore damage.

Because of you

The song drifted to an end as Blaine's fingers pressed softer on the keys, the atmosphere thick and heavy yet somehow lighter than before when he was singing with all his hurt and pain that bled into his voice. He dropped his head to come to face with the small indents and scars embedded in his forearm. He could tell a story for each scar and mark, remembering vividly how each of them got there.

His eyes followed the long scar that trailed around his wrist and up to the bottom of his palm, from that Tuesday night in October after his dad got home from work, pulling his belt off as soon as he got in the door and grabbing Blaine's wrist in a tight grasp and scraping the metal edge roughly against the skin until Blaine screamed and the skin split and drew blood. He saw a deep triangle pointed scar with a dotted pattern along the edges just above the inside of his elbow, remembering the day it got there; Wednesday 14th of August, when Bruce Anderson had lifted an iron to his son's skin after a conversation about dates to the prom, he pressed the tip of it down and dug into the skin until it burned and steam sauntered upwards into the air, holding Blaine down on the floor whilst he writhed in pain and was left with an angry red mark several layers into his skin.

6th of June, strangled with a belt and left with little breath to unclasp it himself. 23rd of March, slashed with a kitchen knife, leaving a small quick scar above the bridge of his nose. 17th of December, bashed repeatedly with a television remote. 10th February, indents of small slits in Blaine's skin from where a broken bottle was pressed into his temple after his father stumbled home drunk in the early hours of the morning.

Because of you

It's true, Blaine he been through a lot. And he went against the statistics that he probably wouldn't live past the age of 18 if things kept going on the way that they did. He escaped, but not without the cruel reminder of his past. Sure, on the outside, he was confident, successful in business, drop dead gorgeous, but inside; Blaine was a broken, paranoid, emotionally and physically scarred man.

He knew he would never be able to let go what happened to him. He would take it to the grave. No one could do anything to make Bruce realise what he did to his son. Blaine couldn't change his past, but he could change his future. He could provide a loving caring environment for his children, show them nothing but care and nurture and only ever raise a hand to give them a pat on the back of pride or encouragement. No, Blaine Anderson's children would be the most free and righteous young people to exist. They would be everything Blaine wasn't as a child.

And then there was Kurt. Kurt who had somehow, after only meeting him about a month ago, had already helped Blaine to progress and realise that he could move on with his life, even if it only was a by a tiny fraction. Kurt who seemed to get even more beautiful and angelic every time Blaine looked at him. Kurt who always knew the right thing to say. Kurt who at times offered advice, in others, just sat and listened because that's all Blaine needed, someone to bare his soul to. He looked over at the tearful blue eyed man next to him and saw nothing but promise and hope, future, trust, and love.

XOXO

A/N: Sorry for the long update, I've had some really troubling personal issues that have made it harder for me to make time to write, especially trying to fit this in along with Ultraviolet. Hope you enjoyed the chapter, I'm not too sure about this one, it's a bit jumbled up so sorry if you get a little confused or something. I'll try to update asap, but I have work experience all this week and then next week more exams, booo:(

Thanks for reading! Drop a review if you like

Ell X