Warning: adult themes
"I was 8 and... when…Kurt, I… I don't know if I can tell you." Blaine whispered into Kurt's chest, feeling the moisture from his breath rebound off Kurt's pyjamas and back to him.
"That's okay, Blaine. You don't have to do anything you're not comfortable with. I'm not that sort of person." Kurt ran his hands up Blaine's arms before meeting at his neck, beginning to massage it gently.
"N-N-No, Kurt. I don't know why it's so important for me to tell you. Probably it's just my crazy low blood sugar making me do crazy stuff. But I want to tell you." He sighed, dunking his head to avoid eye contact. "I'll need help though. Keep forcing me to tell you. Ask me questions. Whatever." Blaine gulped air, squeezing his eyes shut like he could shut off the visions inside his head like one turns off the TV. "Well, the earliest I can remember, for want of a better term, I was about 7…"
"That stinks!" Blaine's father roared. "What the hell did you do that for?"
Blaine looked down at the vomit covering his father's shoes, rubbing his mouth weakly. "I'm sorry, Daddy. I didn't mean to, Daddy." He had been naughty. He had wrecked Daddy's shoes. If he was lucky he'd just get hit and not have to pay for them.
"Now I have to go change my clothes." He spat. "You better be here when I get back."
Blaine's father stormed up the stairs, returning in a minute with a belt swinging loosely from his hand. "Bend over, Blaine."
Blaine did, but only because his breakfast had come to say hello in the rubbish bin.
"You deserve to be punished. You know that, don't you?" He raised the belt.
"Yes, Daddy." Blaine choked out. He didn't cry. Crying would only cause more pain, make him hit harder and longer.
"Good boy." He whipped the belt down. "No crying. You were wrong; you have to take your punishment like a man."
Kurt felt ill. So that explained why he didn't like being looked after. "Blaine…"
Blaine shook his head. He had more to tell and wanted to get it over with, get it out as quickly as possible.
"Look, Mommy! I got a A+ on my spelling test!"
"That's nice." Blaine's mother never turned from the television. "Go play with your soldiers, or whatever it is you first-graders do nowadays."
"I'm in third grade, Mommy." Blaine said proudly. "And I gots an A+ on my test! Ms Albrecht was very happy with me, she told me herself!"
"Why are you still here?" His mother snapped. "You're interrupting my soap! Now, get!"
Blaine suddenly coughed and groaned. "Kurt. I'm dizz… I'm kinda dizzy." His stomach churned uncomfortably.
"You're tired… Is it your blood sugar?" Kurt squinted at his watch. "It's barely been 20 minutes."
Blaine had already pulled his testing kit towards him, his fingertips numb, not daring to raise his head more than an inch from his pillow. "I don't need this to tell me. I need glucose."
Kurt sat up, looking around wildly. "Um…" He spotted a block of Hershey's lying near David's foot. "Chocolate? Will that do?"
Blaine cursed inwardly as his machine beeped. 35. The soda earlier did nothing. Why was he still falling? "No, chocolate's low GI. Won't do anything. Second drawer there's candy."
Kurt rummaged through the desk, hoping his heart wasn't beating loud enough to wake the other boys. Why didn't the lemonade help earlier? Was it the stress of talking? "Oh. Here." He passed Blaine a packet of jelly beans.
"Thanks, K-Kurt." Blaine's hands shook and he struggled to pick them out of their packet.
"Need help?" Kurt squatted by Blaine's head, picking up a black jellybean. "How many do you need?"
"Six," Blaine told him, before he felt the lolly land in his mouth. "I…" He blushed, grateful for the darkness that would hide the change in colour from Kurt. "Thank you."
Kurt fed him the rest of the jellybeans and Blaine opened his mouth, determined to press on.
Blaine slowly trudged home, his school report hanging from his left hand, attached to him only by his two smallest fingers, as if the paper itself was toxic waste that was slowly poisoning his body. Freshman year – the second time round – was nearly over, and he'd somehow managed to get a B in American History. He didn't want to even think about the consequences of that slip-up.
Once inside he dropped the report on the table, grunting his mother a hello, and ran to his room, trying frantically to rid himself of the stench of stale rum that had followed him from the kitchen.
"How did you do?" He asked his older sister, eyes rushing over the yellowing bruise blanketing her cheek. Nothing new, thank God.
"All A's. I'm in the clear," Maegan reassured him. "You?"
Blaine groaned, rubbing his forehead. "Almost perfect. Almost."
Maegan hissed in sympathy. "He's drunk again. Can I stay here, Blaine? Please?"
Blaine pulled her into a protective hug. "Of course. Just… I need to chill out. Do you mind if I listen to music? Or do you want to play?"
Maegan thought for awhile. Then she grinned and pulled out Blaine's guitar. "Dad's asleep on the couch. Sing to me?" She handed the instrument over, letting out a small shout of pain as her wrist (it's only sprained, Daddy, don't worry, you didn't, I mean, it didn't break in the fall) overextended. Then she broke, crying. "Why, Blaine? Why now? I'm just so grateful Sarah's in the hospital, he can't do anything more to her there…"
Blaine planted a kiss on her forehead as she wept into his chest. Then he began to sing, his voice so pure that even angels wept bitterly for them.
Young girl, don't cry,
I'll be right here when your world starts to fall…
Young girl, it's alright,
Your tears will dry, you'll soon be free to fly…
Maegan blinked at him, tears dewing her eyelashes like steam from a shower when it hits the cold mirror. It just wasn't fair. Blaine was all she had in the world. All his sisters had. They had no idea what it meant to be safe. He was 16 years old, acting as a protector, a comforter… Everything his father was meant to do but couldn't.
When you're safe inside your room, you tend to dream
Of a place where nothing's harder than it seems.
No one ever wants, or bothers, to explain
Of the heartache life can bring and what it means.
"Stellaaaa… Wherearrrre youuuu?" A monstrous slurring floated through the floors of Blaine's room. "Are youuuuu hidinnng?"
Blaine squeezed his eyes shut, one tear escaping, trickling down his cheek and splashing on his sister's long brown hair. He could never love his mother – and that knowledge killed him. She always sided with his father, too much a coward to protect herself, let alone her children. But no one deserved that. Those dead eyes, leering at you, rotten whiskey wafting through the gaps in his unwashed teeth, that fury burning through the surprisingly strong hands that you could never escape from unharmed. But Blaine couldn't do anything, just hold his sister close. And pray.
He raised his voice, trying to block the sound of his father's desperate pleas.
Now in a world where innocence is quickly claimed,
It's so hard to stand your ground when you're afraid.
No one reaches out a hand for you to hold.
When you look outside, look inside to your soul.
A clap rang out.
"Stellla? I'm sssssorry, honnney, I diddnn'tt meannn itt."
"You're drunk, James."
"Onnnly a little… Barely tippsyyy."
Maegan shuddered, beginning to crumple. Blaine steered them to his bed.
When there's no one else, look inside yourself.
Like your oldest friend, just trust the voice within.
Then you'll find the strength that will guide your way,
You'll learn to begin to trust the voice within.
A large bang. A scream of pain.
"It's okay, Maegan. I'm here now. I'm so sorry I couldn't be during semester. But I'm here." Blaine tried to be brave but his own voice was shaking terribly. "We can get out of this, I know it."
Maegan shook her head. "He won't go too far with me, Blaine. He won't take my life – and that's all I have left to give." Her words were thick, so much left unspoken. "But what about you? You're his only son. And you're…"
Blaine sighed. "I'm gay. It's okay, you can say it."
More screaming from downstairs.
Maegan laughed humourlessly. "I know your faith was stolen along with mine. But… will you pray with me?"
Blaine grasped her hands in his, then promptly knelt beside her. "All I know is Psalm 23, Maegan. The Warblers sang it for a funeral. Is that okay?"
Maegan nodded, and bowed her head.
"The Lord is my shepherd, so nothing shall I want. He maketh me to lie down in greener pastures: he leadeth me beside the still waters. Though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I shall fear no evil: for thou art with me, thy rod and staff shall comfort me…" He sniffed, wiping a fresh load of tears from his face before doing the same for his sister. "Lord, please… even if you hate me… Look after Maegan and Sarah. They have done you no wrong. Please, protect them.
"Amen."
There was a loud crash and thud, with random clangs of metal. It sounded like their fight – which had obviously become violent – had now moved to the kitchen.
Maegan clamped her hands over her ears. "Make it stop. Please. Please, Blaine. Just make it stop."
Blaine debated for awhile, then whipped out his phone. Who knew what his father was capable of in this state? What he would do? Maegan deserved safety. Even if he wouldn't make it through. He called the police.
"Noooooo! Someone, please help me!" His mother was still screaming.
"Isss all your fault, Stella! You were meant to give me a son! And instead you gave me this… this…" There was the sound of a slap.
Shock begun to set in Maegan's eyes. Blaine picked up his guitar, forcing himself not to vomit. "Maegan, it's my fault, it's my fault, don't you DARE blame yourself for this, it's okay, the police are on their way."
Maegan just stared. "Then why is he doing it to me? To her? To our family?"
Blaine just shook his head and begun strumming.
The century before you could never turn twenty-one.
Years and years he waited, just waiting for a son,
For someone to go ahead and take his name, he said.
Years and years he waited and a daughter came instead.
Maegan shook with the force of the truth of the lyrics. But that still didn't make it right.
But that's enough for now,
He should've never left you broken,
He should've held you;
Things a father never could do.
That's enough for now,
He would have never left you broken,
He would have held you.
Things your father never told you.
A deafening explosion. Then silence. That was more terrifying than the sound of the gunshot had been.
Breathing comes in pairs, except for twice:
One begins and one's goodbye.
Sixty years of sorrow, he got five or six of bliss.
Left my mother's mother, without so much as a kiss.
"Okay, James. What do you want?"
Oh, thank Christ, they were both still alive.
"I want youuuu, Stelllaaa. I don't want those kids you gave me. Those shits. I want a real family."
Footsteps began to thunder up the stairs.
But that's enough for now.
He never wanted to leave you.
He would have held you.
Things your father never told you.
There was a quick knock on the door downstairs, which was then blasted off its hinges. "Police! Stop what you're doing right now and put your hands in the air!"
Blaine collapsed onto Maegan's shoulder, burying his eyes in her hair, clutching her, clutching the only real thing he had left in his life. Maegan began to softly sing instead of him, stroking his back, swaying gently on the floor as his parents were both handcuffed and led away.
That's enough for now.
I would have never left you broken.
I would have held you.
Things your father never could do.
Words your father never told you.
"Blaine, I…" Kurt began uncertainly. "I don't know what to say to you."
Blaine sneezed, which progressed to a yet another coughing fit. Finally he spoke again, his voice much lower than before, sounding rather like a zip. "He got out free, of course. Proof of what money can do."
"You… you know you can't blame yourself for that, right? For any of it."
"I still feel guilty," Blaine whispered. "I should have acted more normal around him. I should have been more perfect. Whatever it took to stop him drinking. You know, I actually tipped his Scotch down the drain once? Replaced it with apple juice."
"And what did he do?"
Blaine shook his head. "I don't remember. There's so much of my memory missing, Kurt. That story? Most of it is what Maegan told me, when I asked. I remember singing. I remember something bad happening. That's it. I don't know what he did to me, to her, to my Mom…"
"Blaine, he had a gun. If you had tried to stop him, he might have tried to kill you."
"All because I got a freaking B on an exam," Blaine was muttering, wringing his hands manically.
Kurt shook his head. "Have you told anyone else this?"
Blaine looked up, finally finding Kurt's eyes again. "Jeff. Nick. Wes and David. That's it."
"And… what happens when you go home?"
Blaine scoffed. "I don't. I did, for a few months. But then he tried to 'straighten me out'. His own words. I float around between those four guys. Maegan comes with me sometimes, or stays with her own friends. And Sarah…" Tears finally started to fall. "She never woke up. It was suspicious, but apparently not enough to convict my father of anything."
"So your parents are still together? After he tried to kill her?"
Blaine shook his head. "She fired the shot. Self-defence. Or so the police report says. But they split up awhile ago. I haven't been to see her since."
Kurt glanced helplessly at the wreck of a boy in his arms. "Blaine, I didn't think it were possible, but my respect for you has grown infinitely. Thank you for trusting me. Always remember this: you're braver than you believe, and stronger than you seem, and smarter than you think."
Blaine reluctantly gave half a giggle. "Look at you, with the cheese."
Kurt smiled. "I, my dear, am the queen of cheese. You, as the king, have no right to take that away from me. Or do you not like cheese?"
Blaine forced a wavering smile, his hoarse voice cracking. "Of course I do. My favourite's Gouda."
A/N: Angst! Angst! Angst! Angst! *Cue Potter Puppet Pals headbanging.* Only don't actually headbang, please. I gave myself whiplash once headbanging to Bohemian Rhapsody - it was so severe I ended up in the ER and they gave my Valium...
Right. Um... I love reading angst, but I'm really not used to writing it. So please, bring on all the criticism! I hope it's not too cliched for you...
I'm pretty sure I'm going to up the rating. What do you think? I don't know how explicit everything is, or how much of an effect it's going to have... Please let me know what you think, whether I should up the rating or not?
I start work at 0930 tomorrow! Totally getting a sleep-in! Yay! But I'm working 0930-1230 and then doing a sleepover shift that night, so no chapter tomorrow, I'm sorry. You may get one on Saturday, but I can't make promises, I'm going straight from work to a friend's party to babysitting, so I'm not sure how much writing I'll get done. But I'll try!
The songs I've used are The Voice Within, by Christina Aguilera, and Enough For Now, by The Fray. Both are amazing, I love them dearly. There are, as always, a few allusions to things. Fudgecakes for anyone who can find and name them! Hints: there are three in this chapter including the title and not including the songs, and they are all from different sources. And, just in case you were wondering, I don't own any of them and neither do I own Glee.
So what did you guys think of the angst? I do have a few other stories I can bring up later, if you want. Or I can move purely back to my normal fluffy-cracky drama.
Thanks to everyone who has read and subscribed and reviewed and I know I keep saying this, but it actually means the world to me. I was thinking the other day, that Glee was getting more and more emotional but then I realised it was because I'm allowing myself to feel again (which is a MASSIVE deal to me, like you cannot believe) and I'm actually feeling happy a lot of the time, and writing is actually letting me do that. And then I get people actually telling me that they read and enjoy my work and it just... well, it's cliched but it really does make my day.
Shout outs to the wonderful, the talented, the gorgeous, the amazing riker-rocky-ross-lynchlover795, Different Child, Lalice of Roses, xXLittle Rose AngelXx, Falling. Through. Wonderland AND Brook-Lucas-Fan-23. Love you all!
Love me? Hate me? Want me to be in a fatal steamroller accident and be eaten by Goldmember with shmokes? Please let me know.
Keep smiling! :D