Yay! another chapter, thanks for being patient.

TW: alcohol abuse and neglect

The next day Kurt tried his best to avoid Blaine-he didn't know what it was about him but it was like he was drawn to him and almost couldn't resist simply letting go and letting Blaine have him, all of him. But Kurt was not that type of person, at least he didn't think he was. This week had made Kurt question this about himself. Sure, he hadn't actually gone that far with Blaine in their four whatever it would be called, but at the moment, it feels like there is some kind of pull between the pair and even the smallest kiss would send Kurt's head on a spiral. Did it do the same to Blaine? Kurt wondered, he didn't know that it did that and much more. A kiss to Blaine meant so much, it made him feel powerful yet weak, it flooded his senses with feelings of desire and passion. Until Kurt began to tease, or pulled back, or did anything else that made them come out of contact. The absence of Kurt's kiss gave Blaine a new feeling of lustful anger, he wanted to grab Kurt and pull him back, locking their lips until Kurt became his, but he knew, somehow, Kurt could resist him, and that made him more irresistible. The images and stolen moments with Kurt would have to suffice, for now.

Kurt's avoidance was successful, he didn't see Blaine once. He didn't know how it worked out that well, but he wasn't going to argue. Kurt needed this extra to think. The confusion around Blaine built the more he thought about the week. How did he go from barely having kissed, to almost getting off every day by another boy? Although he didn't hate the happenings with Blaine, he hated how his friends reacted. Finn and Rachel were against him from day one, they somehow got mike and tina also on their side. Then there's Mercedes who loves how Kurt has something, but he can tell she doesn't like who is providing said something. But Kurt has a Santana and puck in his life as well. They love Blaine, now there aware of their relations, puck can't look at Kurt with a straight face, it's starting to seem that a knowing smirk is permanently glued to that mohawked man, and Santana is just probing question after question and majority to which Kurt doesn't know the answer too. Sam and Quinn didn't really change with the new information discovered after school, Kurt didn't know if they didn't care or didn't want to know or were ignoring it or didn't feel it was their place to be operated and questioned, and to be frank, Kurt didn't care which one it was, he liked how normal they were being.

Blaine didn't even turn up to glee club, making Kurt's day of avoidance complete. So, Kurt used this absence of Blaine and collection or friend to get his own questions in. Once the singing and dancing were through, Kurt finishing his own solo of blackbird telling specific members of the club to hold back at the end, he bounced out of his plastic red chair and strode to the door, letting Mr Schue out politely, before turning to face the people: Finn, Rachel, Santana, Puck, Mercedes, and start his asking.

"you guys have had your fun all day asking your questions, now its mine turn, seem fair?" he started. The club all humming and nodding in agreement.

"Alright so," Kurt began, pacing steadily back and forth across the room, piano to the band, "whose great idea was it to show off my business to the whole club?" Knowing the blabbermouth that was Rachel, his eyes were narrowed right at her.

"Don't look at me Kurt," she said, offended, "look at her," she finished, pointing an accusing finger towards Santana.

"Oh please, you all would have done the same, I was just the lucky one," Santana responded.

Finn took his turn to talk, "actually Santana, we wouldn't have exposed Kurt's private life like that."

Santana scoffed before she spoke, "Ok man tits, the only reason you wouldn't have, is that you can't seem to wrap your oversized head around the idea of two dicks touching, and you cannot act innocent, we all know you'd tell Rachel who would just go all blabbermouth to the rest of us."

Rachel was ready to speak up in support of Finn, but Santana cut her off, "and your little munchkin of a girlfriend can't defend your point when she knows this is true, and another thing, before she goes yapping at me, if Kurt finally getting some action from something beside Mr right was private, he would have done it in private, not in the back of a public school parking lot in a vehicle that has clear windows."

"They weren't so clear by the time we got there," puck sniggered.

"Hold up," Kurt spoke up, once again interrupting Rachel," if the windows weren't clear, how did you know what we were up to?"

"Kurt sweetie, seeing any glass that is steamed up and has a handprint, are clear signs something frisky is happening, haven't you seen titanic? Also, the car bouncing a little helped me figure it out."

"But why did you have us tell them all Santana?" Mercedes asked.

"why?! Did you see how hot and steamy it literally was, Kurt's hand was down that guy's trousers while he breathed filth into his ear, that deserves some praise to our virgin hummel."

Puck stood out of his chair clapping and whistling, getting unimpressed looks from everyone beside Santana, who joined in.

"Ok, another question, what do you have against Blaine?" the question was clearly directed to Finn and Rachel, everyone else in the room listening with open ears.

XXX

After saying his farewells to the glee clubbers, whom which Blaine could not remember any names of, he walked back over to the school, trying his hardest to disguise his waddle with more cool and collected steps that were simply slow for dramatic effect, after what could have been the most embarrassing moment of his life had he not had practice. Blaine was sure he'd been interrupted more times getting handjobs or bjs' then he has not, he just sees himself as lucky no one has seen him balls deep; but that's the price you've got to pay when hooking up under 20. In his most recent intrusion, Blaine had felt it best to leave as soon as possible after, his original intention was to drive away with Kurt also in the car, that's why he brought Kurt to it since he has a house to himself tonight: his father taking his mother out on a date then to a hotel. Even Rosa wouldn't be in the house since she was out with friends on a meditation retreat. Blaine was so excited to have Kurt without intrusions, a luxury he could only fantasise about. Which he did plenty of times. However, these plans have unfortunately been cancelled due to unforeseen circumstances. The overprotection of Kurt's friends. Now, Blaine was waiting for the crowd of people surrounding his car to disperse so he can get back out there and drive away. He waited inside the building, using his now free time to grab a quick snack and drink from the vending machine located outside the cafeteria. Then, to save Kurt the embarrassment, he took the long route back to his car, walking past the bleachers where he got whiffs of the skanks cigarettes mixing with sweat stench from hockey practice. By the time he arrived at the mustang, there was nobody in sight.

Once he took his seat upon the expensive pleather of his car, it was real leather when he first bought it but Blaine didn't like the idea of sitting on a dead cow, so he paid for the switch despite the judgy looks from the workers and his dad. Blaine didn't know why at the time, but he just sat there for a little while, staring at nothing and thinking about nothing, he felt very drained. The feeling could be from the mass amount of blue balls he's been receiving, or there could be something more. but his thoughtful thoughtless trace was broken by the ring of his phone, clattering the coins in the cup holder and echoing throughout the space, sending sudden vibrations through his body. Blaine jumped up, his shoulders rolled and his back straight while he clutched the steering wheel, his brain slightly muddled due to the sudden scare and moment of alertness. Begrudgingly, he turned his head to look at the lit-up screen he picked up and now held in his left hand.

"Ugh, not now," he said to himself upon seeing the word dad on his still vibrating phone. Blaine put on a fake enthusiastic self and hit answer, "Hello father."

"Blaine, I need you to pick up your mother," His dad said, no emotion, like this happened every day, which wasn't too wrong of a statement, not since a few years ago at least.

"Usual place?" Blaine asked, rubbing his forehead, just the thought of his father giving him a headache.

"Of course, don't waste time asking these stupid questions, you don't know what she'll be up to, what she'll start talking about." His voice put extra strain on the last line, emphasising the problem that would be.

"I'm going now, father."

"Good" Then his father hung up, no goodbye, no drive safely, no care.

Blaine took in a deep breath, before exhaling while slowly letting his head fall back against the chair with a gentle thud and closing his eyes to just breathe for a second, Takin in the silence, enjoying it, trying to make it last. But it wouldn't. It couldn't. Keeping his head back, Blaine put the car in gear, hearing it roar to life and listening to the moving gravel as it began to roll forward. He held a tighter grip on the wheel, finally looking at the road in front of him, he had no worry towards hitting a car, the lot being almost empty anyway, and if he did it would give him a decent excuse to avoid his parents for longer-the longer better.

Blaine was picking up his mother earlier than usual today, it gets earlier each month, only by a little bit, but the minutes add up to hours when done long enough. Blaine followed the same route as always. Spotted the same twisted oak tree he always sees. Passed the same stream with the lilypads and duck house but no frogs and no ducks. Heard the brush of the weeping willow with the branches to soft to damage but rough enough to be heard. Turned the corner with the pastel bakery that led to the roundabout where at the fourth exit and down the road, a little longer was the same bar.

A point to his mum for picking the classiest bar to blackout in, with its overpriced martinis and crystal legged tables which supported black glittery tops that stood under the great light up purple sign that read 'effervescent', without any water rings staining the tempered glass. These tables served by first-class waitresses, all in the same short skirts and tight button-up shirts with open, pullable waistcoats and bowties. They seemed like carbon copies of each other, all here to flirt the tips out of the old and certainly not wise attenders, the way to tell them apart being hair and skin, which was always flawless, but some had curls, some had straight and some had updos, but all the hair was still flirty and twistable. Although, no matter how much class you put int a bar, its still a place packed full of drunks, the difference here being drunks with money. Because of this, it had the same old smell of expired peanuts and spilt beer but with added fragrances of rose or lavender perfume, vintage cigars and coke. It was still a bar filled with married alcoholic men tricking themselves to think that enough tips will get the waitresses into their arms, to replace there just as old frigid wives who refuse to put out for boys who come home smelling of drugs and gin and another woman's perfume. It was still a bar that had elderly adulterers whose partners were just as naive, believing that their husbands' return was enough of a sign of love that they'll stay, unhappy and drinking themselves half-blind to cope with the abuse. Except for Blaine, this bar was where his mother drank herself half-blind, while his dad whored about in his offices. Neither knew of Blaine's knowledge of what they get up, his mothers always too far gone to know it's him, while his father thinks he's discreet if coming home two hours after work in a cloud of cologne was discreet.

Blaine was looking up at the place in disgust, he didn't want to leave his car, to take in the full force of the building before him, to take in the full force of reality. but in the end, he had to, he had to protect his mum. Sometimes he wished he didn't love her, wished he didn't care like she did, wished she was a stranger to him. But she wasn't, and that's why he does this, that's why he did what he did at his old school, and although he's not proud, hed do it again, he told himself they deserved it, and they probably did in the eyes of most, but some people still the good in others and if they found out they couldn't look at Blaine the same way, Kurt wouldn't look at Blaine the same way.

The door handle clicked as Blaine got out the car, slamming it behind him, causing groans from a midday drinker who the repercussions of alcohol were finally hitting.

"Alright Blaine?" a female waitress asked, collecting the empty whiskey glasses from a passed out stranger. Her voice was high and soft, she asked with genuine concern and care. She was kind, you could see it in her eyes, they shined in a youthful way. She had congenital heterochromia, and it made her eyes stand out, matching her perfectly. She kept her brunette hair in a sleek low ponytail, making her cheekbones that much more apparent against her dark skin. She wasn't like the other workers, she wasn't there to con all the drunks out of their money, sure she appreciated it, anyone would, but she enjoyed their company before they went too far. She thrived in that perfect tipsy atmosphere that made everyone get along, no matter gender, class, skin or sexuality-the atmosphere of love and kindness. She carried herself like she belonged their, nobody but Blaine knew she didn't. He had helped get the job, so he saw the motel she lived at, he gave her one of his mum evening outfits for the perfect first impression, and he celebrated with her when she got the job because nobody else would. Her name was Anitta.

"As good as ever," Blaine winked, walking past her into the building.

"You know you're not allowed in there right?" Anitta shouted at him over the music that came when Blaine opened the door.

"I am if nobody sees me." He said, disappearing into the smoke and lights.

Blaine was banned from entering the building after what happened, but only the manager and certain guests cared, none of the employees did, they saw the justification of his actions, meanwhile the manager just saw the loss in business.

"She here?" Blaine shouted over the bar to the nearest bartenders, who looked at Blaine and sighed before nodding his head to the corner booth.

"Like clockwork!"

Blaine gave a small smile in thanks and turned on his heel, brushing past others to reach the booth-a booth he never got to.

he had tried to be careful, he wasn't the tallest, he could usually slide through clouds unnoticed, but somebody moved at the wrong time and he stepped on somebody else's toes, the wrong somebody else.

"oi, watch it!..you" A large burly man in a sweat-stained shirt spat, angered from not only Blaine's presence but also his now ruined shoes.

"fuck" Blaine winced, knowing the trouble he just stepped into

"Fags aren't allowed in here." He slurred, clearly drunk.

"then how is he here?" Blaine mockingly questioned, pointing to another man who was looking at Blaine with he same amount of rage and hatred.

"He's not a fucking faggot!" The man shouted, spit and alcohol getting over Blaine, who's shirt was being crinkled in the oversized fists of the man.

"Well, his ass might disagree" Blaine knew just how bad of an idea it was to mess with these lot, but he found so much enjoyment in watching their face filled with so much aggression, and he loved overpowering them even more.

The drunk was starting to lift Blaine off the floor, his grip getting tighter as he pulled up, Blaine barely on his feet, but he kept his cool, he needed to or else he'd get too much attention and be thrown out, literally. Blaine slowly brought his hand up to the face of the man who had him in his grasp while saying, "come on, you don't want to hurt me." But before his hand made contact, the man grabbed his wrist, unfortunately for Blaine, the clothed bit, he was powerless now.

"Don't touch me, I know what you are." The man squeezed Blaine's wrist tighter as he spoke in an anger drenched voice. For a moment, Blaine was panic by his words, thinking he knew of his ability, there is always the possibility of his mum going off on some drunken tangent about him and his father, "A fucking fairy" the relief Blaine felt made him release a calm breath, angering the trio of men more, "we not threatening enough for you", the third man said, going in for a jab at Blaine's side, the sudden force on Blaine's body knocking him out of the hands of the other.

"how about now," the three laughed together."

"Not really," Blaine laughed, holding a sturdy ground before hooking the front one in the jaw and kneeing him in the crotch, sending him to the floor. Blaine then yanked the collars of the other to towards him, when they were near enough held a tight grip on both their necks. Blaine's eyes went dark, his voice deep and thick and heard by only them, the contact on their throats burning their skin, "grab your friend and leave." He threw the others onto the floor, creating a lump of boy on the floor which he stepped over in order to approach his blackouted mother.

"hey," he said, his voice drastically much gentler, "you still here?"

When there was no reply, Blaine simply shrugged and hauled her up, throwing her arm over his shoulder and clutching her little waist, his fingers slipping ever so slightly on the silk of her long black dress. He was forced to practically drag he outside, where he threw Anitta the keys to the mustang ready for her to be placed in the back seat to sleep the day away. Her diamond necklace jingled whilst they turned her to be able to put a seatbelt on. He whispered her a friendly thank you and left. Driving back past the bakery, the willow, the stream and the oak, taking a right near McKinley to follow the road to their estate where the automatic garage door opened loudly to reveal the pristine concrete room of paint cans, tools and cars.

Blaine's father wasn't going to help, he had to bring his mother out the car and through the door alone. He usually would bring her upstairs to her bed, but she's also usually conscious, in moments like this where Blaine is worn and bruised he leaves her on the sofa with a glass of water and a cookie.

Blaine watched her for a little while, he underst\ood why she did it to herself, she looked at peace in this state, and he envied that.

"Blaine" his father's voice echoed throughout the voice without even trying, "is she ok?"

"Fine" not that you care

Blaine's father walked by as he began to leave the ground floor living room, he was wearing a dark tailored touser with a burgundy satin shirt, that revealed the top of his chest, tucked in. Blaine saw him adjusting the cuffs of the sleeves, "that's good to hear"

"I take it date night it no more"

"Not entirely," his father said, running his fingers through his soft brown and grey stubble, "no point of letting an outfit go to waste, huh my boy," he laughed, a conniving dark laugh.

"yeah" Blaine fakingly agreed, fooling his father, and walking away, he had a slight limp from his body not wanting to put too much pressure on where he got punched less than an hour ago.

"Are you ok, my boy?" his father asked, dropping his arms by his said to add more power and demand to his voice.

"yes father," Blaine said, trying to speed up out of his father sight.

"Don't lie to me, now come here."

Blaine kept walking.

"Dont make me ask again."

Blaine stopped. He hated when his father used their gift against him, so he limped back over to be face to face with him.

"Why are you limping?"

"I stubbed my toe on the way in," Blaine spoke without confidence and without conviction.

"No, you didn't." His father said, sturn.

"yes, I did."

"fine, so you have no problem with me doing this," Blaine's father whacked him in the side, right on the spot where he got hit, but his fathers hand much more force and control, it hurt much more than any punch from any other guy he's had a fight with.

"oh shit," Blaine cried, holding onto his side, "fine! I got in a fight at the bar, ok, is that what you wanted to hear."

"why?! you have my gift, nobody should be able to touch you. You can use it for more then getting out of detention, you could do so much greater if you just go further with it."

"I don't want to go further with it, and for your information, I did use it, just not good enough."

"Let me guess, he blocked it by touching your clothes."

"no" Blaine was a good liar in most cases, this not being one of them.

"You need to grow your power, you'll be able to control with words alone, you'll be great, you'll be like me."

"Maybe I don't want to be like you."

"Don't kid yourself, my boy, everyone does. Actually, I think we should start growing your strength next week, I was about your age. So get prepping, but don't get into too much trouble, I'm off now." And with a pull of Blaine's chin, pulling him up straight, fixing the posture while pulling him close, gripping Blaine harder, "remember never show weakness, strength is power," With that, Blaine's father left their house into the night. To him posture was a big thing, standing up straight showed the confidence and strength in a person, and to him, nothing was as important as power.

Blaine was alone, sort of, his mother didn't really count. He certainly felt alone, but when didn't he recently? Blaine knew the answer to that, he didn't feel alone when celebrating with Anitta, he didn't feel alone when talking with Rosa, and he never felt alone when with Kurt. But that wasn't good. Blaine father wanted to build his power, he wanted Blaine to have control with a simple look, but Blaine didn't want this or more specifically didn't want what it entailed. Blaine knew he didn't want to strengthen his power, however, in the back of his head, forcing its way forward was a little voice, a voice of potential, greater power, greater than your father, that's what you want. Blaine needed to ignore the voice, silence the voice, he couldn't listen. He listened before and that's what got him here in the first place, he won't listen again, he can't. If he listened hed have to do it, he wouldn't be able to look at himself the same way again, Rosa and Anitta wouldn't be able to look at him, Kurt wouldn't be able to look at him, wouldn't be able to be with him, but you could make him.

Blaine had only discovered one way to silence the growing whisper, it required him to go downstairs, to the basement. The basement had been converted into their own personal liquor room, It had wines to whiskeys, gins to tequila, vodkas to rums, and it was all layered and organised on perfect glass shelves. The room was large and dark, it was kept cool with the foot thick walls, nobody would hear a thing that's happening inside. They had alcohol from centuries ago, and alcohol from a few weeks ago, they had expensive ones that was drunk on special occasions, and they had cheap ones that were used as gifts to their household employees, and then in a corner, forgotten about, are the ones that weren't finished or have a broken cork or weren't pretty to look at in some way. Blaine headed straight there, nobody in the house notices when the stack decreases, so Blaine drinks a bottle, taking his time, enjoying how with each sip the voice grows fainter and faitnter. Once he finished the first, he starts on the second, but he doesn't finish it, he passes out in the corner of the room, bottle in his hand while the darkness swallows him whole, the only thing bringing a final smile of the day to his face being the thought of seeing the beautiful boy at school again, although at the rate Blaine was going and the lack of time in the basement and the new wishes of his father, Blaine wasn't sure as to when that would be.