Disclaimer: I own nothing but he plot and OCs

Kurt frowned, instead of annoyance, Blaine wanted to tell him a story? He looked at Blaine curiously yet tried to act as if he wasn't very intrigued, he didn't want Blaine to see in case he changed his mind. Kurt wondered what tale Blaine could possibly want to tell him and, more importantly, why, but he managed a feeble smile at Blaine to encourage him.

"Okay..do you know where Missouri is?" Blaine asked, taking a deep breath and nodded when Kurt replied in the positive, "yeah..yeah, I guess you should, it's only one or two states over. Well, in Missouri, there's a small place called Park Hills and there lived a boy, he doesn't live there anymore, but, well, he definitely used to. Now, this boy, he..he always knew he was different to the other boys- he preferred to stay inside when it rained, he avoided getting his clothes dirty, he wasn't ocd, he just liked to be clean."

Blaine glanced up to see if Kurt was still listening and was grateful when he saw the other teen watching him intently, it was weird as, although Kurt was doing this, Blaine felt under no pressure to tell the story without pausing every now and then. This was a difficult story to tell for him- and not because he had forgotten it, he just forgot he was capable of formulating words.

"During elementary school, none of this had ever really mattered to anybody, it was during high school people really started to comment..but as soon as people started to do that..well..the bullies began to notice too."

The short fourteen year old delicately walked through the wet field that surrounded the school, trying to make his stepping fall towards the dryer parts. His face was decorated with a look of concentration as he dodged the bits of mud which sprouted up here and there, a result of frequently using the fields to train for football and athletics, the school having not had enough money to build a proper track and good water drainage. It was his second week at the new school, and it was the first day it was cold with the ground wet, having rained the night before.

"Aww, look at posh snob over there, got something against the dirt? Think it's not good enough for you?"

The hobbit-like boy looked up, painting on the polite smile he had grown accustomed to during his parents' house parties with work colleagues.

"Of course not, I just didn't want to get my clothes muddy."

The towering group of teenagers, who must be at least sixteen, surrounded the youngster. Judging by the state of their foul-smelling, clearly unwashed outfits, they didn't particularly care for theirs.

"I don't want to get my clothes dirty," the biggest of them mimicked in a high pitched voice, "well. Isn't that a pity."

"I-isn't what a pity?"

Each face switched to a malicious grin; "this." And with that, the bully gave the boy a forceful shove, making him fall to the floor and splatter himself in mud. "Oops! My bad," he laughed, "we don't want 'posh' kids like you here. You have no place at this school." And, with that, the jock high fived his cronies and walked off, leaving the tiny teenager in the mud, shivering as last night's rain soaked into his clothes.

From that day onwards, the teen made sure to always take the back entrance into school.

"This boy..at first it was just shoves every now and then. I guess that after that day, he began to wear what everyone else wore; he'd make sure to blend into the crowd. It wasn't that he wanted to, he despised the outfits he'd had to wear and he wasn't even very into fashion at all, no. He did it out of self preservation."

Kurt found himself unable to pull his eyes away from Blaine who was staring, transfixed at the floor whilst he talked. At the back of his mind, he wondered where Blaine had heard the story.

"You know, it's strange: you'd think his parents would have noticed, said something about it even.. but they didn't. Both were on business trips so often, they barely ever stayed home for too long, and when they did, it was so they could throw parties. They loved him, his mum possibly more than his father, they just weren't around much."

"He could put up with an otherwise empty house when his brother was with him, it never really felt very lonely, but when he moved to LA for more acting opportunities...well, the silence seemed so much louder. It was his brother he had always been closest to, him being the one who had practically raised the boy. Of course, when they were younger, the pair had had a nanny, but she got fired after the older boy got into one too many arguments with her about confiscating the younger child's toys as she deemed them 'unfit for a child of his gender and age'." Blaine snorted, smiling as he remembered the next part of the fiction, "that was the first time the younger male heard his brother swear, replying with a long list of insults which he was told 'never to repeat in front of mummy and daddy'."

Kurt could relate to this- throughout young elementary school, he would host weddings for his power rangers, marrying them off into different pairs everyday. That was, at least, until some older kids had came up to him one day and stole them away from him. After school, Kurt had found them lying in the sandbox with their heads and arms ripped off. When his dad had found out, he had bought him some more, claiming to have 'fixed' the broken ones but Kurt had known better. He never took his toys to school again.

"Anyway, it was during this time at high school that this boy was beginning to question himself, the main thing though, being his sexuality. He had always assumed he was straight- heck, he never even knew there was anything different- until he got his first crush. But it wasn't on a girl, it was on a guy and the boy was confused to his wits end. Was there something wrong with him? Did everyone go through what he was? Could you even crush on a guy or was it impossible? He'd only ever heard of what he felt in passing from a bully, but he was using it as an insult so it didn't really count. He began to refrain from eating and not concentrate in class, he didn't mean to but the same question would constantly plague his mind, instantly taking away his appetite and focus. What if he was an insult? Less than three weeks later, however, the boy's thoughts were answered when he met a boy named Mark. Little did he know just how much their meeting would help him and change him for the better."

The familiar sounds of curse words and thuds echoed the halls and the young teenager looked up, surprised that, for once, it wasn't him. A boy, taller than him, was sat on the floor, pushing himself to his feet where the bullies had pushed him to the ground.

"Ha! Watch it homo!" They called, turning to walk away with proud smiles on their faces although why they should be happy they hurt some, he wasn't sure.

"You know 'homo' actually translates to mean man? It's one of the next stages of evolution after you neanderthals."

A tense silence fell in seconds. Nobody ever stood up to them.

"What did you just say, fairy?"

"Oh, you heard me."

"You'd better watch out kid," the same bully who spoke earlier said, about to push him over again but spotting a teacher, "there's no one to protect you out of school."

And, with a menacing look, the oversized group marched off, sending harsh glares at anyone who stood in their path.

Now the bullies were out of sight, the boy on the floor's face twisted into one of pain, wincing as he touched his left wrist. The other boy thought it was strange how nobody came to help him, after all, this male didn't look any different to anyone else. Nervously he approached.

"What do you want? Come to snigger at the gay kid too? Well go ahead," the boy said this bitterly, but kept a strong mask on his face to hide the humiliation, the only problem was, was that the other had worn one the same and could easily recognise it by now.

"No, I'm not- they're like that to me too," he said, ducking his head and feeling slightly ashamed even though he knew he shouldn't be.

"Oh.."

"Yeah..but why do they hurt you? I mean..well..you look normal."

"Umm, thanks I guess? I'm- I'm gay." A pause. "You can feel free to run if you want, I won't stop you."

"I'm not going to run. But...what's gay?"

"Oh. I..I like guys."

"What do you mean?"

"I like...well, I feel the way about guys, the way most males feel about girls.."

"Oh! Cool, I like music." Okay, that was random, but luckily, the other boy merely smiled.

"My name's Mark."

"Meeting Mark really enlightened the other boy on how he felt; he started to be less afraid of his feelings and began to understand that he might be gay too. Over time, he grew more and more comfortable with it; it was funny, Mark never pushed the idea of him being straight. It was as if he knew, the way he would frequently skirt around the topic of his friend's sexuality and, when they did, he would use gender neutral terms."

Blaine glanced up, relaxing the muscles he wasn't even conscious he had tensed. Kurt had relaxed as well, being too swept by the story to feel any fear.

"So soon, this boy had come to terms with the fact that he was gay and felt sure enough to take his first few steps out of the closet. The first person he ever told was Mark, after all, he was one of the closest friends he had and the only gay one. He was also the only one whom he was certain would accept him."

"Mark's reaction to finding out was very positive and gave the boy courage about telling more people. Mark didn't question it. He didn't laugh; he didn't think the younger teen was lying but he accepted him. He gave him confidence."

"Three weeks later, he came out to his family, making sure to do it on a weekend was visiting, him being the one to have almost raised the teen."

The dark haired teen sat nervously at the dinner table, picking at his food and barely eating. He had decided that tonight was the night. Tonight was the day he'd tell his parents. To be honest, he wasn't sure how he was going to do it- when he had talked about it to Mark, he'd said that his parents had found out when they came home to find him making out with another boy on the couch. The other boy didn't particularly want to come out that way to his.

"Hey, squirt? You okay? You're not eating," his older brother asked, directing his parents' attention to his sibling and moving the topic from his upcoming role.

"I- I'm fine.. just not very hungry."

"Oh?" That puzzled the twenty two year old- his brother never not ate his food, even when he was feeling sick as hell but he didn't question it. If the younger boy didn't want to talk, he knew better than to push for answers, "well, okay..anyway, there's this company and apparently they think I'd be perfect for the lead role in-"

"I'm gay," the short teen blurted out suddenly, interrupting his brother and mentally chastened himself. Wow. Smooth. A heavy silence fell at the table.

"W-what?"

"I-I'm gay, dad."

"Are you sure? It's probably just a phase or s-"

"Freddy!"

"I- I have to go," his father said, giving the child a last, torn look and walking quickly out the door. Only the sound of the young brother's choked tears broke the silence until the elder reached over and pulled him into a tight hug.

"C'mere squirt, it'll be okay. He'll come around sooner or later."

Over the sobbing boy's head, the brother shot his mum a begging look but she simply shook her head and walked to her room.

"A few weeks later, an argument between the parents about the boy erupted and tensions were wearing thin. That night, the mum left them and went to live back with her parents. Apparently she couldn't face her child anymore without feeling disgust."

Tears threatened to fall down Blaine's cheeks as he said this and he blinked rapidly to get rid of them, turning his head away slightly from Kurt.

"After she did this, the father walked out of the house, leaving the brothers alone for the night. The elder had an audition the following morning in Los Angeles, but being the loving idiot he was, he stayed and missed it. After a full fourty eight hours, the dad returned, towing a wreck of a car behind him and claiming the fourteen year old was going to help him fix it. It was probably just a ploy to get him to turn straight though."

Kurt frowned, he frequently worked with cars yet he was about as straight as a roundabout. It just didn't work.

"When the kid went to school again, he decided to continue to come out, bit by bit. He wasn't going to let one negative response ruin his plan. And so, he told a few more of his very closest friends. Two hours later, the news that he was gay had been heard by the entire school. It turned out his supposed friend Collin had spread it around, making sure to tell the jocks first though; he had a plan. He had wanted to become popular. It worked in that sense, he was now the ringleader of the group and the person who would encourage the rest to hurt him and Mark, deciding that they were out to convert everyone."

"That day...well, everything seemed so much worse. The abuse, the slurs, the unpitying pain. Nothing was holding back the bullies now and it was a regular occurrence to be shoved to the ground, locked in janitor's closets, their possessions defaced and covered in demoralizing graffiti, getting tied to lampposts...those bullies made their lives hell. But what pained the boy the most, was that his father still avoided him, and his mother never made any attempt to contact him. It was as if the world had turned against the boy."

"A year later, the bullies still hadn't ceased their taunting and the boy couldn't help but laugh as he remembered how he thought it would all blow over in a day."

The feeling of hands grabbing him from behind and dragging him on his knees by was one the boy was very well accustomed to by now, and he wasn't around of it. Recently, he'd taken to coating his locks in vast amounts of gel to ruin the bullies grip on it so they couldn't pull any more out. He didn't like doing it but it worked, they avoided touching it as it felt disgusting on their hands. He now succumbed to their torture easily, fighting had only ever gotten him more bruises which swelled and hurt like hell afterwards.

Soon, he felt a heavy kick at his back, making him fall flat on his face into the claustrophobic, disinfectant smelling room. The door was quickly shut, blocking out all the light except the small line that creeped under the door. He heard the menacing laughter and jangle of keys as they locked him in before it finally retreated. Brokenly, the boy curled himself into a ball, letting the tears fall as he waited for someone to let him out. They'd taken his phone and bag so he couldn't call Mark for help as he usually did, and was sure that when he was released he'd find his essays he'd worked for days on ripped up and scattered across the grounds. Just his luck.

Four hours later, footsteps approached the door and the teen called out, not caring whether it was a jock or a teacher, he just wanted to get out. The sound faded away, leaving him alone and the memory taunting him. He sat back down and tried to remember some lyrics or anything to pass the time without him turning into a mess again.

An hour after that, new footsteps, a single pair this time, came outside the door but the male didn't raise his hopes that they'd help. Life just didn't work like that for him. He sunk his head into his arms which rested on his bent knees and tried to make himself smaller, maybe if he did it enough, he'd disappear altogether.

Involuntarily, he flinched as a gentle hand came down on his shoulder and looked up, expecting to see a jock and, most likely, a punch flying towards his face. Instead, he saw his history teacher, kneeling by his side and giving his arm a comforting squeeze. It might have been okay had he not had a large bruise there under his clothes from earlier; the teacher hurriedly withdrew his hand, instead standing up and helping the boy to his feet.

"Are you okay, kid? Who did this- they didn't hurt you did they?"

The boy sighed in annoyance, now people cared. Maybe if they had before none if this would've happened.

"Who told you where I was?"

"Mark did. Well, he guessed. When you weren't there for second and third period and you didn't answer your phone, he assumed you'd gone home but was scared as, well, it's not really like you.. Anyway, during fourth when you weren't there, he overheard some boys joking about locking you in here and immediately ran out of my class. I caught up with him and made him tell me what happened and, well..here I am."

"..right, well thanks. But umm, do you know where my stuff is?"

"Your stuff?"

"Yeah they- they took my phone and bag."

"Oh.." the teacher bit his lip, how could he not have noticed? "No but..Well on my way down here..well.."

"What?"

"Your lockers been vandalised and the principal wants to see you."

"You know, since the never found who did it, the principal made him pay for the damages to his locker. He was a homophobic douchebag anyway, seemed to think the boy had done it himself."

Kurt scrutinized Blaine as he said this, he usually seemed very proper and he had only heard him swear when he was angry before and he didn't strike Kurt as the type to do it a lot.

"They called his dad in, and the chances are he would have been expelled had it not been for the teacher who'd found him standing up for him. As it was, he ended up getting detentions for the rest of that term and all of the next. Not that he minded of course, it kept him out of the way of the jocks at lunch and break times, he just worried for Mark. Who was going to help clean his cuts if he was stuck in detention?"

"Anyway, around six months later the teen stopped having to serve detentions and was surprised to find the bullies had let up for a bit. Junior prom was approaching and most of them were running for prom king, he guessed they just wanted to gain more votes by being nice and hiding their real personalities."

"Anyway, the boy and Mark went together to prom, just as friends mind- they just wanted to say a massive 'fuck you' to everyone who had hurt them in the past. Mark's parents were going to drive them there, and then the other boy's drive them home, and so, they went. Everything was fine when they were inside, it was when they were going home that the problem occured. They had gone outside to wait for his dad but..well.." Blaine took a shuddering breath, his voice lowered to a whisper as he spoke next, "these guys came out of nowhere and..they- they beat the living crap out of us."

If Blaine saw the shock that covered Kurt's face, he didn't show it. Us? Hang on was this story-? It couldn't be, Blaine couldn't have a history like that he...He just seemed so..well..he didn't seem to have any problems- he was lead of the warblers for God's sake!

"Two weeks later, I woke up in hospital...I'd been comatose since the attack with multiple injuries to my arms, chest and legs. They guessed whoever did it used some kind of bat..." Both boys shivered, neither doing it from cold. Tentatively, Kurt slowly reached out an arm and gently patted Blaine's hand. The other boy gave a teary smile and Kurt allowed him to wrap their hands together. It may not be what Kurt intended but, by the look on the other teenager's face, he needed some comfort right now.

"Cooper, my brother, was by my side when I woke up, telling me he and dad had decided to send me here, having heard about the school's no bullying policy. When I was finally released, well, I came straight here. The entire time I only saw my dad once; I'd made Cooper promise to keep him away from me. If he had actually picked us up on time, none of it would have happened, but of course, he had to make a point about him disliking my sexuality and be late."

"Mark returned to our usual school around a month before I started Dalton, his injuries being less damaging than mine. He later told me that I had tried to hold them off and let him run for it." Blaine smiled, "apparently I'd even gone so far as to jump on them so he could escape, it was idiotic but if he hadn't managed to have got away and called the police before they caught him ...well. The end of the story might have been very different."

"When I first started at Dalton, I would skype him every night. We may be distanced, but I didn't want to lose his friendship after everything we'd been through. He was like another brother."

"I- I guess I should've seen it coming...the skype calls becoming shorter and shorter, less and less. Phone calls were reduced to just text here and there until they stopped altogether; we barely ever communicated anymore."

Blaine looked up, tears falling unashamedly down his face as he choked out his last few sentences.

"A week into Dalton a received a letter from Mark. It was weird, I never got letters from him, he'd always call or something. He had dyslexia and he hated writing. Anyway I- I just put it to one side. I was in a rush for first period so I thought I'd just read it later. "

"Second session I was pulled out of class and taken to the Dean's office. That-that morning, Mark's little sister had found him hanging from his ceiling."

"When I ran out of the room, I just knew. I reached my room and I opened it..." Blaine's voice was almost inaudible as the next few words came out in a shaky whisper, "the letter I had received was his suicide note."

"He must have been planning it for a while, to get the note in the post and get it to me on the day. I should've done something! I should've stayed or made more of an effort to talk to him, but I thought he was making more friends.. my stupidity killed him, Kurt."

Kurt frowned, looking up at Blaine- he was no murderer. The boy had now dissolved into a pit of tears and Kurt ever so slowly built up the courage to give him a comforting hug. It wasn't his fault.

"K-Kurt," said Blaine eventually, looking so helpless as he raised his eyes to meet the blue, "I.. I need you to understand, I'm- I'm not telling you this so you pity me- I'd never do that, but that look, the one you have in your eyes- I recognise it. You try to hide it, but I've seen it before. Mark had it, I used it a lot... you've been hurt, I don't know what happened, but you can't bottle it up or it'll all come crashing down. You need to vent it..please, I- I don't want you to end up like Mark. He shut himself off and-" he looked up at the ceiling, trying to keep the tears in and not let anymore spill, "please."