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Let Me Be
Chapter 14
AN: Sorry this took SOO long guys, Christmas was hectic; I had houseguests, very high blood pressure, and I've been babysitting almost daily – which all make it very difficult to find time to write.
A big thankyou to my adorable Sami for betaing this chapter; my fabulous wifey and usual beta 'MissKat' is currently in NY to see our boy Darren performing in H2$, so I didn't want to bother her with a betaing job right now. So frikkin jealous, seriously. This is one of the things that sucks about living in Australia.
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I was so lost in my own thoughts that I made it all the way back to my car on autopilot before realising that I had come to Dalton with Rachel, and I couldn't leave without her. I sent her off a quick text telling her I was waiting for her in the car, then sat back and waited for her reply.
The school day was over; day students were trickling out of the buildings, and I scanned their faces, trying to figure out if one of them was Paul. I didn't know the guy at all; his name hadn't rung any bells for me, and I'm fairly sure I hadn't had any classes with him during my time at Dalton. I couldn't help but wonder how well Blaine knew him. Had they shared classes? Was Paul the kind of guy who would have been friendly to Blaine's face before he decided to literally stab him in the back?
Yeah, ok, I knew I was making some pretty huge assumptions here. Jon had been pretty adamant that Paul wasn't the guy we were looking for, but I couldn't really focus on that right now. I trusted Jon, so I knew that I should have trusted his opinion, but I couldn't stop my mind from picturing this faceless jock as Blaine's attacker anyway. Getting Paul's name as a suspect was the closest I had come so far to finding out anything about Blaine's attack, and my imagination was running wild with assumptions. I physically flinched as my brain conjured up the image of Blaine being held back by two guys as a Paul stabbed him, again and again. I heard myself whine in pain as I shook the horrible image out of my head, screwing up my eyes in disgust at my own imagination.
I just wanted to confront the guys who had done this to Blaine, whoever they were. I needed answers; I needed to understand why they did what they did. I wanted to ask them why Blaine's love for me had triggered such an aggressive response from them. I wanted to know if they had planned the attack, or if it was a spur of the moment decision. I wanted to know if they would have attacked me instead of Blaine, had the situation played out differently. But most of all, I think, I wanted to know if they felt any remorse whatsoever for the attack. Did they even still think about it; about what they had done, about the effect it had had on Blaine and all of the people who love him, or was it already forgotten?
I just wanted to speak to this Paul guy... to look him in the eye, and ask him if he was involved. Wes and David had talked me out of it, and I knew they were right in saying that this was a matter for the police... at this point, for me to confront this guy on my own would be premature and dangerous, but a part of me didn't care what happened to me. I just wanted to cause him some pain, even if it would only be a fraction of the pain that he had caused us.
I think the confusion of it all was what got to me the most. I just didn't understand why some people could feel so much hate towards another person, just because they happened to be gay. It honestly just didn't make sense to me.
I glared at my phone, frustrated at its continued silence. Rachel still hadn't replied.
Hopping out of my car and locking it behind me, I strolled towards the largest building, the Administration Centre.
All the trophies and accolades that the school had collected were gathered together in glass cases lining the halls, and I just knew that if I looked hard enough, I was bound to find the one person who I sought. I needed to put a face to the name.
I took my time, strolling slowly from one cabinet to the next, scanning names on trophies and the faces in the photos. I'd only just found the Lacrosse cabinet when my phone buzzed, and a quick glance informed me that Rachel was waiting for me at my car... but I didn't rush. The team photos weren't in any particular order; 2004 sat in between 2009 and 2006, so it took me a little while to find the one I was after where it was half hidden, on the third bottom shelf. I crouched down before it, scanning the names beneath the picture. According to the name listing, 'Paul Trick' was standing next to Jon Elliott in the back row. I quickly shifted my gaze to the photo.
I could see Jon standing in the back row; he was one of the biggest guys on the team, and towered over almost all the other players... all except for the tall burly blonde guy standing right beside him. The guy was just as wide across the shoulders as Jon, and possibly even an inch or two taller.
"Kurt?"
My name rang in a tinny echo off the walls and cabinets, startling me out of my thoughts. I turned quickly to see Rachel standing in the doorway, the door still propped open beside her as she scanned the darkened foyer for me.
"I'm here." I called back, letting my gaze drop to the team photograph again, determined to etch that face into my memory.
Rachel's excited voice trilled through the foyer. "Oh, are the Warblers trophies in here? How many competitions have they won? Trent was talking about their song selection for Sectionals, and after what I saw today, I think they are going to sound amazing no matter what they choose. We're really going to have to think long and hard about how to make sure we beat them..."
She kept on talking, but I couldn't honestly tell you what she said after that, her voice just droned on in that tireless pitch. I caught occasional words, like 'harmonies' and 'dance routines', but overall my mind was pretty thoroughly occupied elsewhere... such as on the MVP trophy etched with Pauls' name that sat in the very next cabinet, dated 2009. So Paul had been at Dalton a while. That increased the chances that Blaine would have known him.
Still, there was something about all this that just didn't feel right in my head, but I couldn't quite put my finger on what it was, or why.
It would come to me eventually. I was sure of it.
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I drove slowly back to Lima, lost in thought. I was dimly aware of Rachel babbling on beside me about the adorable impromptu duet she had just sung with Trent on the Dalton staircase, but I couldn't have even told you what song they had sung, even though I'm sure she would have mentioned it. We were nearly back at McKinley before she thought to ask me how I had gone with my information gathering mission. I don't even remember how I replied to her. I was too distracted.
I dropped her off in the McKinley parking lot next to her car with a hug and a 'see you tomorrow', and drove the rest of the way home in silence.
I was quickly torn out of my musings, however, by the sturdy, compact body that wrapped itself around me upon my entry to the house. I hadn't even gotten the door closed behind me before Blaine had appeared out of nowhere to cannonball into my arms. I could feel his hitching breaths wracking his body, and there was a tremble to his arms as he held me, his body hunched over, his face buried in against my chest. My arms locked around him and I shushed him gently, automatically rocking his body in my arms to soothe him.
I glanced up from the mop of curls pressed against my chest to meet Carole's eyes as she gazed at us sympathetically from the kitchen doorway. She gave me a sad smile.
"He's been standing there at the door for the last two hours, waiting for you to get home. I tried everything to distract him, but he's so stubborn."
I gave her a weak grin in response. "Yeah, he is."
I tried to pry Blaine's arms off me so I could lead him into the Den, but he clung to me like a limpet, so I settled for an awkward crab walk; reversing him through the doorway and moving with him to lay him back on the couch, then curling in to join him. I was confused and angry, and all I really wanted to do was confront Blaine, demand that he tell me the truth, everything that had happened and who did it, but I knew I wouldn't get anything out of him if I didn't approach the subject carefully. And even then, I still didn't like my chances.
Blaine's trembling hands were stroking my body, pulling at my clothing, and I instinctively knew what he needed. I reached down with one hand and pulled my shirt up, fumbling with the lower buttons. Blaine's fidgeting fingers pushed against mine, trying to help but only hindering my movements. I could hear him moaning my name against my neck. He was in a worse state than I had expected, and I knew I was to blame for it. I should have come straight home at lunch time instead of driving an hour in the opposite direction; I should have known he would need to build up to us having whole days apart. I grabbed my undershirt and pulled it up, untucking it from my jeans and exposing my skin to Blaine's desperate touch.
He actually sighed in relief as his hand touched my bare skin, sliding up, under my shirt, caressing and touching my belly and chest.
"I'm here, love. I'm right here."
He snuggled in to my side so close and so tight that it felt like he wanted to burrow under my skin, and I hated that a small part of me loved that he was so dependent on me, and that he could find so much comfort in my presence. Just the fact that he was touching my skin had been enough to quieten the violent tremors coursing through his body, but his breath still hitched sporadically, and he stifled sobs with his mouth pressed against my neck. I just held him, stroking his back, and when Carole came in to check on us ten minutes later, he was sleeping soundly, though his body still hitched sporadically with lingering sobs. His arms still locked tightly around my waist, holding me securely to him, even in sleep.
Carole frowned at me, concern etched in to the lines on her face.
"I thought he was past this kind of reaction? I didn't even realise he wasn't coping until I couldn't pry him away from the front door. I'm sorry Kurt; I should have called you..."
I shook my head softly. "No, it's ok. It's not your fault. He is improving, he's doing so much better than he was. I think it's natural for him to have little relapses, it's not a big deal."
My dad's words from a few days ago rang in my mind, and I was tempted for a moment to ask Carole not to tell him about this little panic attack of Blaine's, but I couldn't ask her to lie to my dad... I wouldn't do that to their relationship. I knew he worried, probably more than anyone, that Blaine could have been receiving more intensive professional help if he had been in a care facility, and while I absolutely only wanted the best for him, I still firmly believed that he was doing well enough with just us. His first psych appointment was scheduled for tomorrow, and I didn't want to give them any more fuel for the 'institutionalise him' argument.
His body hitched again with a residual sob, and I tightened my arms around him a little, making sure he knew he was safe so that he could sleep. I didn't even need to ask Carole if he had rested today, I already knew that he wouldn't have, not without me. I turned back to Carole, meeting her concerned gaze.
"So how was he today, really?"
She sighed and gave me a small shrug.
"He was doing well to begin with. I could tell he was really trying hard to be ok with you not being here, but he started to get tired after lunch, and that's when he started losing control. I tried to get him to go up to your room for a nap, but he wouldn't even walk up the stairs without you; so then I told him you would be home soon, which was a big mistake, because then he wouldn't leave the door."
I shook my head. "Yeah sorry, I should have just come straight home..."
Carole cut me off. "Where did you go?"
I turned away from her, gazing back at Blaine as I stroked small circles on his back.
"I went up to Dalton with Rachel. I was trying to get some answers."
When she next spoke, her voice came from a much closer place, and it startled me. I glanced up to see Carole now sitting just a few feet away from me in the armchair.
"Answers about what, honey?" She asked gently.
I knew I should have already spoken to my her and my dad about what Blaine had told me of his attackers, but it just seemed like an intense and difficult topic to discuss when I didn't even have anything solid to go on. It wasn't that I was trying to deliberately keep it from them; I just didn't have the energy to think about it, let alone try to work out what it all meant. I would tell them both soon, but I needed to talk to Blaine about it first. I knew that I would only have to mention this guy's name to Blaine to know whether he was involved or not ... Blaine's reaction to the name would give me all the answer I needed. There was no point alarming my parents before I even knew if I was on the right track.
"Just details about the attack... but it didn't help. If anything, I'm more confused now than ever."
She leaned over and kissed me on the forehead, soft and sweet. "You should get some rest too honey. I'll wake you boys when dinner is ready."
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Dinner turned out to be a quiet affair. Finn was sulking and kept glaring at me, but I couldn't really care enough in the moment to bother working out what I had done to piss him off. My dad had clearly had a bad day at work; he grumbled a little at first about the risks people were putting themselves and their families in by driving on bald tyres, and just moaning about irresponsible people in general, but he fell silent as soon as Carole's chicken cacciatore hit the table before him, and barely even bothered to draw breath for the rest of the meal. Carole tried to get us to talk about our days, but I was still too worked up about my Dalton visit to be able to manage polite conversation, so I just let it go. She eventually just gave up, and as soon as Blaine and I had finished I excused us both from the table, and led him up the stairs to my room.
As had become our routine, I turned my back and busied myself at the desk while Blaine undressed and took his shower. My head was busy and full of the day's events, so much so that I didn't hear the water turn off, so Blaine's sudden reappearance in my bedroom startled me. I could feel the tension in my neck, and at the realisation of that, I also became immediately aware that I had been grinding my teeth.
Blaine only had the towel slung low around his hips, and I could see the steam rising from his still damp body. I noticed, however, that the sight of him nearly naked before me as he waited for me to apply his creams didn't have the same physical effects on me as it usually did. In fact, tonight – as ashamed as I am to admit it - the sight of him irritated me.
I gritted my teeth as I rubbed the oil in to the scars on his wrist, still holding the limb gently in my hand, but even I could feel the difference in the way I touched him tonight. I was rougher; faster in my actions and less loving and sympathetic in my behaviour, and from the vaguely confused glances that I caught him throwing at me, I'm quite certain that he noticed the differences too.
To be honest I wasn't sure where my sudden anger had come from, but the more I thought about it, the more I realised just how justified it was. Why hadn't he told me the details of the attack? Why wouldn't he go to the police and give them a statement? Why wouldn't he defend himself against these people? But mostly, what baffled and angered me in equal measure was why on earth he would protect the guys who had done this to him?
I was still deeply lost in my thoughts, and my reasons for why my anger was justified as I rubbed the oil in to the scar on his chin, when his hand closed gently around my wrist, capturing my attention close up, and I noticed then that he was trembling slightly.
"What's wrong, Kurt?"
I just shook my head, dismissing his question, and gently twisted my arm to attempt to free my wrist, but he wouldn't release me.
I glanced back up at him, meeting his eyes.
"Why are you mad at me?
I could see the hurt and confusion on his face, and it grounded me. I couldn't be mad at him for this; none of it was his fault. I knew that... it didn't stop me from being frustrated though.
I shook my head and dropped my gaze guiltily.
"I'm not mad at you Blaine. I'm sorry... I'm just frustrated."
He nodded quickly, lifting his arms to loop them loosely around my waist, holding me close. I melted into his touch, not realising until that moment how much I needed it. I stroked his curls with one hand, revelling in the feel of them curly and still damp from his shower. It was now or never...
"Blaine, honey? I need to tell you something."
All of a sudden I felt worried about telling Blaine about my trip to Dalton; like I had betrayed him by going. I hesitated, taking the time to choose my words carefully before I spoke them.
"I went to Westerville today. I spoke to Wes and David and Jon. They wanted me to tell you that hope you are feeling better soon. They all send their love."
Blaine's hands had started to shake as I spoke, and I clasped them both again, between my own, holding them steady.
"Kurt, you can't go there. It's not safe for you."
I shook my head. "I'm fine, love. I didn't get hurt. We're going to make it safe there again, ok? All we have to do to make it safe is catch the guys who did this to you. Can you help me do that, love?"
Blaine shook his head defiantly. "No Kurt. You just need to drop it, please? You have to stay away!"
I ignored him for a moment, just holding his gaze. "Jon gave me a name, Blaine."
Blaine's face paled as he fought to hold my gaze. He opened his mouth to speak, then closed it again without a sound.
I waited patiently, rubbing the back of his hand soothingly with my fingertips. I needed to talk to him about this calmly, and I knew that for that to happen, I would need to tread very carefully here. Calm meant slow, and gentle... soft and understanding. I couldn't rush him.
"What did Jon say? Who...?"
"A guy from his Lacrosse Team. Paul Trick."
Blaine started trembling all over, his back was stiff and straight, and he refused to meet my eyes. I watched his body language carefully, noting the sweats and the trembling... and the fear. But I had to admit, his reaction to me saying the name wasn't as violent as I would have expected it to be if it was the name of one of his attackers.
"Please just tell me Blaine, was it him?"
He seemed like he was about to bite clean through his lower lip with tension, but he still stared me straight in the eye, unflinchingly as he spoke.
"No. Paul didn't touch me."
I just stared at him in disbelief, and after a few moments I raised one eyebrow questioningly.
"Was he there when it happened? Did he have anything to do with any of it?"
"No Kurt. Stop it, I can't..."
"Why are you lying to me, Blaine?"
His gaze narrowed as he stared back at me stubbornly. His voice was low. Quiet.
Scared.
"I'm not lying to you Kurt. Now will you please just drop it?"
He pushed my hand away, brushing it off his arm, and managed to pin me with one final harsh glare before he stalked across the room and flopped down onto my bed; rolling over onto his side he settled himself under the covers, obviously trying to end the conversation then and there, but I wouldn't have it.
"Damnit Blaine, I do not understand why in the hell you want to let these bastards get away with what they did to you!"
He didn't answer me.
I rose up out of my desk chair, angry and frustrated again at his lack of cooperation, and his inability to understand why I wouldn't just drop it... why I couldn't drop it.
"What if it had been me, huh? If they had attacked me, Blaine, would you drop it? I know damn well that you wouldn't... you would be doing exactly what I am doing now, trying to find out who it was so that they could be punished to the full extent of the law for what they had done... so why do you expect me to be any different?"
I sat down on the edge of my bed, just behind his covered body. I automatically reached out a hand to rest on his hip, but at second thought I let it hover over him, suddenly unsure of whether he would want me to touch him right now. After a few moments though, I let it drop lightly, rubbing soft, smooth circles against his hip and back, through the blanket. He didn't seem to object.
I softened my voice, deliberately losing all the anger.
"Honestly, I could kill them, Blaine. I want to tear these guys apart with my bare hands for what they did to you. We can't leave them free on the streets, thinking that they can get away with this. They have to be locked up."
He sobbed softly into my pillow, but was otherwise silent.
"I know that you know who they are, Blaine. I can't even begin to express to you how much that hurts me; that you know them. You could put an end to all this, right now, but you won't. But why won't you? Why are you protecting them?"
Without moving his body much at all, Blaine turned his head to face me.
"I'm not protecting them, Kurt. I just know that it's not going to make any difference."
Anger flared again, but I bit it back in favour of keeping him talking.
"Why wouldn't it make any difference?"
His body shook beneath the covers, and I pressed my chest down a little firmer against his back, trying to comfort him.
He hesitated a few moments before he answered me.
"Because nothing is going to change what they think of us, Kurt. It's not going to make him stop doing this to people like us."
I narrowed my eyes at him. "Him who? Is it Paul?"
Blaine shook his head. "No. Paul is involved, but believe me Kurt, he had nothing to do with the attack. Not this time."
My body went stiff as I sat there, gaping mouthed, staring at Blaine. My next words came out as a kind of choked whisper.
"Wait. Do you mean that these same guys have done this before?"
Blaine didn't respond. Then another thought occurred to me.
"Blaine? Has he hurt you before? Please Love, tell me this... it's important."
"Yeah, he has. They all have."
It was a simple answer, but it immediately changed everything that I thought I knew about Blaine's attack.
"Oh my God, Blaine ... were these the same guys who attacked you and your friend the night of your Sadie Hawkins dance?"
Blaine turned over, his tear stained face pale and worried as he reached for me, pulling me into his arms with a sense of urgency and a strength I didn't realise he was capable of given the cast on his arm.
"Kurt, just stop. Please? I can't... you just don't understand. You can't go up against these guys... I just... "
He took a deep breath, trying to steady himself. His eyes held mine with a desperate intensity. "They warned me not to, but I didn't listen, Kurt. And Tyrone wouldn't back down either... we were both so stupid."
My mind was racing to keep up; to piece together the little tidbits of the past that Blaine had shared with me, and to make them make sense.
"Wait... Tyrone was your friend from Jefferson High? The other gay kid?
He just nodded sadly.
"Did he get badly hurt?"
He nodded again.
"Did you tell the police about it then?"
He shook his head 'no'. I bristled.
"Why Blaine? Why are you keeping this quiet? Why would you protect these monsters?"
"I was too scared, Kurt. And now, I'm just trying to protect you, Kurt... not them. I want them to burn in hell, but I won't let them touch you. I can't. You have to understand..."
"Can you help me to understand, Blaine. Will you tell me what happened?"
He stared at me for a long moment before he finally nodded his ascent.
"Ok Kurt. Fine, I'll tell you everything, and then you will know why I can't go to the police. But I'm going to have to start at the beginning... "
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AN: Blaine's full backstory will be revealed in the next chapter... I'm not trying to be cruel by leaving you with a cliffhanger, but Blaine's story deserves its own page... It's already planned in full, graphic detail in my head, it shouldn't take me too long to write it up... Don't hate me!
Reviews encourage me to keep you guys happy, and they keep this story at the forefront of my mind ... therefore, more reviews equal more time spent thinking about this fic, which might make me write quicker... hey, it's just a theory (not blackmail, I swear, I wouldn't do that). So please leave me a review!
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BloodRedLust