Trigger warning: Attempted non-consensual sexual activity & panic/anxiety.
Blaine looked himself in the eyes in the dingy bathroom mirror. How had he gotten to this place, he wondered. How had it come to be that he'd gone so quickly from feeling excited and love-struck to feeling completely and totally trapped?
He'd realized it when, as he'd sat on Jeremiah's couch, bracing himself for whatever they were going to do that night, he'd gotten a message. This text, unlike the ones he'd received in Spanish, didn't make him blush, didn't make him feel uncomfortable, and most of all, didn't make him feel dirty. It made him feel, for the briefest moment, simply thought about.
Hey, Blaine! You free tonight? Dad's driving me insane and I thought, Judy Garland marathon? I'll throw in all the buttered popcorn you can eat… -K
Blaine couldn't help but smile until he realized he wasn't free. Not tonight. In a way, not at all. He wanted to respond with an excuse and then, as his stomach tightened, hated himself just a little bit more for wanting to lie to one of his only friends. They way he'd lied to Bethany about how fast things were moving with Jeremiah.
Before he could make a decision on whether to even respond at all, Jeremiah returned, with two glasses of what looked like champagne.
"So, maybe it's a little cheesy, but I thought we should celebrate," Jeremiah said.
Blaine accepted the glass the taller man held out to him. "What are we celebrating, exactly?"
"Just – us," he said with a crooked smile. Then, he reached his glass towards Blaine's and clinked them together. His eyes, meanwhile, bore directly into Blaine's. His desire was clear, and Blaine felt, of all things, powerless to stop the relentless advancement of this runaway train of a relationship.
He didn't drink, but actually set down his glass on the table. "Um, before we do that, can we maybe just – talk?" Blaine asked, unsure of himself. Jeremiah took a big sip of his own champagne but after a moment's consideration, set it down.
"Okay," he said slowly. "What's there to talk about?"
Blaine shrugged one shoulder. "I don't know, just – normal stuff? Like – you. What are you studying at Rhodes?"
Jeremiah hesitated, then smiled. "Uh, business administration," he said. "My parents wanted me to have a practical degree. Anything else?"
If Blaine hadn't known better, he'd have thought Jeremiah sounded impatient or anxious.
"Do your parents know?" he asked seriously. "About you being…you know."
"Gay?" Jeremiah supplied. "No, no way. And it's going to stay that way."
Blaine felt an involuntary shudder climbing up his back. "What about…I don't know…other boyfriends. Have you had many…"
Jeremiah interrupted, "What is with the third degree, Blaine?" The older man forced a laugh. "Can't we just…have fun with each other without hashing out every little detail of our lives first?" he asked, and reached a hand for Blaine's arm. He ran the tips of his fingers up Blaine's arm and down his chest, then up his neck. Finally, his hand came to rest on Blaine's flushes face. Cupping the younger boy's cheek, Jeremiah leaned in for a kiss.
After a few minutes, his kisses grew rougher, more urgent, and Blaine, feeling suddenly stifled by Jeremiah's closeness, pushed away. "I – bathroom," he murmured, and headed for the en suite bathroom off the master bedroom.
There, he found himself staring at a boy he barely recognized in the mirror. There, he found himself questioning what he'd thought he'd wanted. He thought he'd wanted someone to love him, to care for him, to make him their world. He thought he'd wanted a real relationship. He thought he'd wanted…everything that came along with a relationship. And now he had it. He had a relationship with a hot older guy who really wanted him. Unlike Adam.
But here he was, hiding in a half-clean bathroom from a guy who was…what? His boyfriend? Blaine could feel another panic attack coming on. He hated this. He hated his mother. He hated all her terrible boyfriends. He hated what some of those boyfriends had done to him as soon as he'd let himself trust them. And here he was, running from those same kinds of things. Was this just his problem? Was it just the effects of past abus now rearing its ugly head and ruining one more good thing? He didn't know. He turned on the tap, splashed water on his face and deliberately slowed his breathing. He could do this. He could have a normal night with his normal boyfriend and…
His phone buzzed. He pulled it from his pocket and saw…Dorothy. It was Judy Garland, skipping along with the Scarecrow, the Tin Man, and the Lion. In glittery letters, the gif proclaimed. "We're off to see the wizard…"
His phone buzzed again and, while he watched, another message appeared.
Popcorn is officially popping. You have 5 minutes to respond or I am starting movie night without you! :P –K
His heart fluttered and in that moment, Blaine realized he'd much rather have been watching the Wizard of Oz for the ten thousandth time with Kurt than doing….whatever it was Jeremiah had in mind.
With a swipe of his thumb and a few quick taps on the touchscreen, Blaine typed out a quick reply. Then, steeling his nerves, he opened the bathroom door. He found Jeremiah sitting on the bed, waiting for him, a grim expression on his chiseled face. "Everything OK?" he asked.
"I – actually, no. There's a, um. Emergency. With the wedding favors. I promised I'd help." Blaine lied unconvincingly as he slipped his phone back into his back pocket. Jeremiah simply nodded his head before he stood and approached Blaine.
"Ok, sure," he responded easily. "I understand. Do I at least get a goodbye kiss?" he coaxed.
Blaine let out a breath he hadn't realized he'd been holding. "Yeah, yeah of course." He sounded relieved even to his own ears. Jeremiah approached him, hooked his fingers in Blaine's belt loops and pulled him close before bending down and kissing him. Blaine relaxed into the kiss just long enough for Jeremiah to wrap his arms around the boy. Using his height to his advantage, Jeremiah slowly moved Blaine backwards in the direction of the bedroom door, but backed him up instead to the wall.
Blaine's back hit the wall and his shoulders stiffened. He tried to pull away from the kiss, but Jeremiah moved his lips down to Blaine's neck.
"Jeremiah," he protested quietly.
"Blaine," Jeremiah teased back, then bit down on the teen's neck. He hissed.
"Ow! Stop, that hurts."
He felt something hard press against his leg and he realized Jeremiah was getting even more excited all of a sudden.
"Jer," he said, beginning to panic. "You need to stop."
Jeremiah pulled back just enough to look Blaine in the eye. "You need to stop, Blaine." Then he put his hands on Blaine's shoulders and pushed him flat against the wall. "You promised. You said you'd make it up to me," he said, and pressed another kiss onto Blaine's mouth.
Blaine was starting to panic in earnest now.
"After everything I've done for you, Blaine. Everything I've risked. You owe me this."
The cold evening air stung Blaine's lip. He ran his tongue over it and tasted blood. It was split, he was sure of it. That is not going to be a good look for the wedding, he thought.
Shock was carrying him now. It had settled in about 5 minutes after he'd thrown open the front door of Jeremiah's apartment and run off into the night. It had settled in as his heart and lungs protested his pace and he decided it was safe enough to walk the rest of the way. After all, if Jeremiah was going to call the police, he'd have done so by now, right? Maybe.
Bits and pieces of his adrenaline-fueled attack were coming back to him. The triggering words had caused him to begin to fight in earnest. Rather than fighting Jeremiah's hold directly, Blaine had brought his arms up between Jeremiah's arms and out in one swift move. He'd stepped sideways back, putting space between them, but when Jeremiah had grabbed Blaine's shirt and pushed him into the door frame, Blaine had stopped trying to retreat, had put his arms up and delivered two solid right jabs in rapid succession and a powerful left hook to the ribs. Jeremiah had crumpled, and Blaine, frightened of what might happen next, fled the small apartment.
By the time he arrived at Kurt's house, he knew his lip had probably swollen to twice its normal size. Rather than ringing the bell, he sent Kurt a text and a few minutes later, he heard the lock unlatch and the door flew open. He was met by a beaming Kurt who took one look at his lip and paled. "Blaine, oh my… what happened?" he whisper-shouted. Kurt glanced over his shoulder before grabbing Blaine by the arm and pulling him inside the house.
"It was stupid – I kinda…ran into a doorframe," he told Kurt honestly (even if it wasn't the whole truth). Kurt, though, didn't question it. He merely proceeded to fuss over Blaine, to insist he come in and sit down, and to put together an ice pack for him. When they were both seated on the floor of Kurt's room, Blaine with his ice pack against his lip, Kurt winced for about the dozenth time.
"Does it hurt?" he asked.
Blaine pulled the ice pack away and tried running his teeth over the gash. "Not right now, no," he said, and put the icepack right back against his lip. The cold felt good.
Kurt exhaled a sigh. "Well, at least that's something."