Authors note: Here are a few answers to some questions you may have:

Artie was standing…?: yes, the reason why shall be explained and if the reason defies logic… screw you.

How old are Blaine and Kurt?: Blaine is twenty two, Kurt is twenty one. (I know Kurt is a year older then Blaine in Glee, but… leave me alone!

What happened with Blaine's Filipino lover! And what was his name?: All shall be revealed.

Warning: Contains adult content and flawed logic

The day went much quickly then Blaine would have liked it to. Because he knew that the second he was back in his cell, Kurt would want to hear the story Blaine promised to tell him, and Blaine would have to tell it. He had to… Kurt was going to hate him but he needed him to. He felt like how he used to feel when he was younger, how he used to treasure every second of school time. He knew his dad would have been drinking… only he, his brother and their mother knew about how much his dad used to drink. To the town, he was a hero. To his family, he was an abusive drunk. As soon as that bell rang to dismiss the school Blaine's heart would sink painfully. He willed for the clock to go slower but it always went so fast, so, so fast. Six lessons that seemed to last six minutes and a second for break and lunch, and he'd travel home, fully aware that a violent beating awaited him. The day was over, and he was walking to his cell. Soon Blaine wouldn't have to imagine the look of disgust, hate and horror on Kurt's face. He'd never see those gorgeous eyes look at him lovingly…

The day itself had been entirely uneventful; in fact the only part of the day that deserved a place in Blaine's memory was dinner. He was sat with his new 'friends' at their table, eating the tasteless meat with weak gravy and bitter potatoes, washed down with watery juice. Mike, Artie and Sam were engaged in a discussion about comic books or something; Finn and Puck were comparing how much they'd worked out that day. Blaine didn't read comics and wasn't really into the whole gym scene (although he used to practice boxing when he was stressed or scared) so he sat quietly, tucking into his "food". Blaine wondered if they had forgotten he was sat there. Blaine found it odd that they still invited him to sit down, even though he was clearly a marked and public enemy of Sebastian Smythe. When their conversations reached an end, he decided to find out.

"Artie?"

Artie looked up, "Yeah?"

"… Erm… well… why did you ask me to sit with you?"

Artie tilted his head like a confused puppy, "I don't understand…"

"Well, a-after yesterday I thought-"

"Oh!" Artie sat up, swallowing a mouthful of potato, "because of Sebastian?" Blaine nodded, "you thought- oh!" Artie sniggered a little; it was Blaine's turn to be confused. "Dude, you're in prison. In prison you won't survive on your own."

Mike nodded in agreement, "it's true. Guys come in thinking that they're strong enough to take anyone on or if they stay invisible they'll survive."

"And they die."

"Or worse."

"W-worse?" Blaine blinked.

"Oh yeah." Artie nodded, "much, much worse."

"You were sat alone," Mike said, "you drew the entire prison's attention to yourself and sat alone. If you're alone and attract attention then people will… you know."

Blaine nodded, oh he knew…

"But if you're with a group then you're not worth the effort." Artie explained.

"People like easy targets." Added Mike.

"Plus you seem like an okay guy, it'd be a shame to see prison tear you apart like a slice of bread." Artie said a little too cheerfully. Oh, Blaine thought, how thoughtful.

"But… what about Sebastian?" Blaine asked, "Clearly he hates m-"

"Oh, Sebastian hates everybody." Finn laughed.

Well that made sense. Blaine thought about this, "What is he even in f-"

"Rape." Chorused the table at the same time. That made even more sense.

The table was quite for a few more minutes; Blaine noticed a third of the table gave up trying to finish the bitter food. Eventually Artie asked Blaine a surprising question.

"So, Blaine, was Sebastian worried you were going to steal his little toy?" Blaine was both shocked at the question and angered by him calling Kurt a 'toy'.
"… He was yes. But I'm not going to, trust me."

"Gay?" Artie asked.

"… er…" Blaine hesitated. Prison didn't seem like the type of place that'd be hanging up rainbow flags and chanting 'gay! It's okay!' But these guys didn't seem like the homophobic sort, plus they had plenty of respect for raging homosexual Sebastian. Well… he wouldn't call it respect. "… Yeah. I am." He sighed. Artie nodded and returned to push a potato around his plate with his fork, none of the table seemed all that bothered. Blaine was relieved. "Are you g-?"

"Straight." Said Artie.

"Straight." Said Sam.

"Straight." Said Puck.

"Straight." Said Finn.

"Straight." Said Mike.

"Ah…" Said Blaine.

Sam rolled his eyes a little, "Relax, Blainers. We know ya not gunna jump us. You're a good guy."

"Trust me; we wouldn't invite you onto our table if we didn't like you." Puck nodded, "plus if you do cross us, I'll kill you."

"Shut it, Puck." Mike flicked some potato at him.

"You know I will." Puck growled, "Remember what happened to-"

"Yes." Mike sighed a little, his face dropping, "We all remember…"

"Well if he crosses us, he'll get the same." Puck glared at Mike, and then at Blaine, then back to his empty plate, his face contorted as if concentrating really hard on lifting up the plate with his thoughts. Blaine happened to once again be sat right next to Puck, so that didn't help. Jesus, why did everyone want to kill him?"

"Ignore Puck, Blaine. He's been edgy since… since last time someone crossed us." Sighed Finn.

"We don't talk about it." Sam nodded, "You see… we were friends outside of prison." Blaine had wondered why these guys, who looked like the most unlikely bunch of friends ever, would bond in prison. Fit but gawky Mike, tall and dim looking Finn, butch and intimidating Puck, nerdy and puffy-lipped Sam, short and dorky Artie. "We were in our high school's football team, and we just… kinda got on. We carried on being friends out of school since we all got jobs at this corporation."

"We filed papers and answered phones." Said Mike.

"Yeah. And Artie," he gestured to him, "he used to be a cripple."

Blaine blinked. The first question that ran though his head was not 'how is he walking now' but 'how the hell did he get on the football team'.

"It's true." Sighed Artie, "I got in a car crash when I was eight, had to use a wheelchair. Only when I was about seventeen I found out about this Chinese guy who had discovered a way to… to fix me. He'd been working on this experiment to infuse the spinal cord with steal, and somehow managing to transmit feeling to the paralysed area. It was… a miracle. Nobody knew about it, the guy had been working on it to save his crippled daughter. He needed a human to test on… so…"

"And… it worked!" Finn informed him, as if Blaine hadn't already worked out the outcome of the story.

"I can't run or play sports, but I can walk. Very… very slowly, I have to take breaks, but yeah… he healed me." Artie smiled fondly, his gaze on his lap. Blaine tried to imagine what Artie must have felt. After spending almost nine years in a wheelchair, feeling like he was doomed to it forever, to finally stand up and take his first unassisted steps. "Except…" his face dropped, "I needed a bunch of medical attention. I had to have all these tests and… small operations on my legs… the medical bills were so high."

"It would have costed around $50,000 by the time he was twenty." Finn swallowed, "So, a few years ago, we decided to help him. We were all nineteen and had no college qualifications… but we needed to make money."

"So we all made a plan… I didn't want them to go through it for me… but they wouldn't listen. I had to help, it wouldn't feel right otherwise."

"We were going to rob a jewellery store." Mike sighed; there was a twinge of either regret or shame in his voice.

"The plan was going fine" Said Puck, his eyes hard and deadly, "… perfect… but one of the guys who was helping us… betrayed us."

"He was called Jesse St James." Mike told him, and Puck spat on the floor.
"The fucking piece of scum…" he growled. "he only agreed to help us because he was going to take the earning to pay off his dept to a mob."

"He had this show choir consultant business which went tits up." Sam said.
"So, we would pass the boxes of goods to Jesse who passed them through a window in the back room to Artie and he'd load them up." Said Finn.

"As soon as we'd done, Artie climbed back in and we started to destroy the video evidence from the cameras." Said Mike.

"Only… well… we heard a crash, and the alarms went off… and we couldn't see Jesse."

"The dirty scumbag had set off the alarm and was making a break for it." Puck growled louded, eyes burning a hole in his plate. "We ran to the backroom, but he'd gotten out, locking the window shut. We tried to smash it… but couldn't. The police got us."
"So… now we're in here and I've still got a pile of dept waiting for me when I get out." Artie sighed, his gaze resting on his lap again. Blaine wondered how it must feel… to have your best friends sent to jail and it's all because of you.

"Artie, we've told you a million times, it was Jesse's fault, not yours." Said Sam, resting a hand on Artie's shoulder.

"But-"

"But nothing." Sam interrupted.

"So," Puck continued, the fire in his eyes died down a little, "we were locked up. But, two years later guess who decided to join us? The piece of shit himself, Jizzbag St Shitface."

"He started to work for the mod he owed money for, but wasn't too careful." Said Finn, "got caught and thrown in here. The mob he worked for is apparently furious."

"So, as soon as we found out the rat's ass was here, I got him… I got him good. Dam near killed him…" Puck's eyes darkened again, Blaine noticed his hands were tightly bound into fists, veins pulsing against his neck.

Clearly Puck was too angry to continue, so Finn did for fear Puck may punch something if he did, "Jesse got transferred and Puck might get an extra three years on his sentence, but he's got his appeal."

"Should have killed him…" said Puck in a deadly whisper.

"He's not worth it. He's a rat. Let his precious mob get him." Said Sam, wearing a similar expression to Puck, of anger and loathing and hurt.

Dinner ended minutes later, as Blaine was leaving he turned to Artie, noticing how slow his steps were, and how Finn was right beside him, ready to support him if he should fall. He thought about the friends he used to have, well… not really friends. People who hung around with him for the sake of not having anyone else to hang around with. The Rejects, people used to call them. He doubted any of them really liked Blaine, and was certain none of them would plan a huge robbery and risk prison to save him, even if it was to pay for a miraculous operation.

As Blaine laid on his cell bed, waiting for Kurt like a prisoner waiting for his executioner, he thought over that meal. He thought about the hurt in Artie's eyes, the pain. It was regret, it was guilt, it was misery, shame and hurt. His best friends were all doing prison time because they were trying to help him. His best friends were being hurt because of Artie. There was no real way of sugar coating it. Even though they got caught because of Jesse, they could have been caught anyway. He wasn't mad at Artie, but trying to put himself in his shoes. If Artie was that upset because he sentenced his friends to jail, how would Blaine feel if he allowed himself to fall any deeper in love with Kurt and it resulted in Kurt being murdered by Sebastian. He imagined looking over at Kurt's cold, empty bed, trying to imagine Kurt's bright, cheerful eyes being still and lifeless, the single thought that because of him the beautiful, gentle rose that was Kurt Hummel had been trampled. Murdered. He refused to allow someone so perfect, harmless and innocent to be the subject of murder because of him. He refused. Kurt needed to hate him… if Kurt looked at him with nothing but hate maybe these feelings of love would go away? No… Blaine didn't believe that for a second. But… Kurt needed to hate him. As soon as Kurt sat down, Blaine would tell him. Tell him he murdered his own father with a letter knife.

Eventually, in walked Kurt. Perfect, beautiful, smiling Kurt. Inspite of the hell he lived in he refused to stop smiling… "Hey Blaine. So, you owe me one coming out story." He smiled, sitting down beside him. Blaine looked at his smiling face… he'd probably never see him smile again. He savoured it, the way it gave him tiny dimples, the little crinkled starburst between his eyes and the way that when his lips smiled, so did his eyes. His smile was always out of genuine happiness… how the hell he could be happy was beyond Blaine. Blaine nodded, taking a deep breath, this was it. He looked Kurt in his gorgeous eyes, and told him the story.

Blaine had been managing to ignore his burning urges, and resist the irresistible temptation in the form of his Filipino house keeper. However, one fateful day his father was attending a meeting in France, his brother was out shooting another advert and his mother was on a spa break, leaving Blaine alone with the forbidden fruit. He retreated to his bedroom, trying to concentrate on reading and listening to music in his desk chair. He heard the door open behind him around lunchtime, and in the corner of his eye was the gorgeous, hunky house keeper. His white tee was perfectly tight, his jeans were too. Nothing was really left to the imagination. Fuck, thought Blaine, just ignore him…

This proved difficult. His Ipod ran out of battery and he had to put it on charge, and concentrating on the book alone was near impossible. Suddenly, for the first time, the man spoke to him.

"Where is Mr. Anderson today?" he asked, his accent more beautiful then any song on Blaine's Ipod.

"O-out… they're all out, everyone but me." Blaine stammered. Why was he so nervous?

"Oh… just the two of us, then?" there was a hint of a smile in his voice; it sent shivers up Blaine's spine.

"Y-yep."

"Well, in that case you may call me Ramon."

"… I-I will do that."

"Yes…" Blaine listened as Ramon changed his bed sheets and the flowers on his windowsill. Blaine tried to ignore him, his chair was facing the wall but Ramon's every movement was being acted out in his mind's eye. He could see how Ramon's muscles bulged as he lifted up the heavy quilt…

Blaine listened to Ramon's footsteps as he moved towards the bedroom door… then stopped. They began to get louder, moving back towards Blaine. Blaine ignored it, well tried to, and concentrated on the wall in front of him. Suddenly, Blaine felt a warm pair of strong, smooth hands rest upon his shoulders. His body froze, his heart like gunfire. The hands then proceeded to slide down Blaine's arms, caressing his skin with the fingertips. He could see the delectable mocha skin of the arms, confirming that it was in fact Ramon. Blaine couldn't move. He had two choices, push him away and Ramon would leave him alone and he could continue to be straight, or give in to his burning desire, and allow this gorgeous man to touch him in ways girls could not. Blaine couldn't move if he wanted to… God, he wanted it so badly… more… more…

Ramon's lips found their way to Blaine's ear, his hands still moving up and down Blaine's toned arms.
"So… no one is home, eh?" Ramon whispered, his voice dripping with seductiveness.

"N-no… no one…" Blaine whispered back, god he could smell him… he smelt of light aftershave and sweat and a sharp muskiness… irresistible. He continued to inhale this delicious scent as Ramon's lips pressed to Blaine's ear, sucking gently on the lobe. Blaine's neck began to tingle, his whole body becoming alive with sparks of electricity. Ramon's lips moved downwards, teasing his neck with his lips as he caressed his arms with his hands. Blaine was lost in ecstasy and pleasure, all pride and fear lost in the wind. He wanted Ramon, and he fucking wanted him now. Ramon pulled back, his hands attaching themselves to Blaine's chair, spinning him around. Blaine looked up; Ramon was leaning over him, both their chests heaving. His hands were gripping the chair arms, muscles bulging and eyes burning with passion. They bore into Blaine's, making him feel dizzy and weak. Ramon began to lean in, and before Blaine could react the other's strong, hungry lips were pressed against his own. Ramon dominated his mouth, claiming it as his own. His hands found Blaine's waist and pulled him up. Blaine's arms wrapped around Ramon's neck, kissing him with equal passion as Ramon's arms slid around his waist, till their bodies were pressed as tightly together as their lips. They kissed like this for what felt like hours, with tongues entwining and hands exploring. Soon kissing was not enough for either. Ramon's hands found the ends of Blaine's shirt, and pulled it up over Blaine's head, tossing it to one side. Ramon then removed his own and swept Blaine up into his arms. Their bare chests, so hot and toned, pushed together, the friction feeding their desires for a few moments. Before long their pants went next, followed by them falling onto Blaine's bed. Blaine straddled Ramon, squeezing the man between his thighs as Ramon's hands held Blaine by his waist, kissing him passionately. Blaine felt alive. He felt like he was being kissed and touched for the very first time. At last, the longing that had been burning him alive for so long was being fed. He allowed the older man to dominate his body, claiming him. God Ramon, he thought, take me… take me, I want to be yours, I want to belong to you just please take me, fuck me, I need you, please… He continued to silently beg him until Ramon's strong, warm hands moved to his back, moving roughly up and down it. The then slid down, stopping at the waistband of Blaine's boxers. He stopped kissing him to look him in the eyes, silently asking for permission. Blaine nodded, fucking god yes he wanted it and he wanted it now, before the passionate kissing returned and Ramon's hands slid into his boxers, taking a grip of Blaine's ass and squeezing it firmly. Like the rest of him, he claimed it, claimed it as his own. Blaine's boxers were removed first, then Ramon's. Ramon flipped them over, straddling Blaine. Fuck, he was absolutely huge. He pressed their hard erections against each other; Blaine felt his own give a desperate twitch, his body screaming for more. Ramon rubbed them together, their erections already leaking with precum, growing harder, hotter and wetter with each movement. After Ramon had teased Blaine to the point of screaming, he flipped him over and made love to him. Over and over and over again, for the rest of the day they did not leave the bedroom. Blaine was pleasured by Ramon in ways he could never imagine. He felt things ne never thoughts he'd feel. The feeling of his cock in a warm, damp mouth, the feeling of a beautiful cock in his own mouth. Being jacked off by another guy, having another guy jack him off whilst fucking his tight, virgin ass. Soon, many hours later, they were drained of their energy. With Ramon's strong arms wrapped around him, Blaine fell asleep, head resting on the other's toned chest. He listened to his heart beat slow down, the gentle rhythm lulling him into a deep sleep.

Of course when he told this story to Kurt he just said 'there was this male house keeper, he was… so hot. In the end I couldn't resist him, we had sex and we fell asleep in my bed.' Then… he knew what had to come next.

There he was, completely naked, asleep in the arms of his Filipino lover, once clean sheets now stained with sweat and seed. That was how his father found him when his meeting was cancelled and he had returned home early. He was drunk, and completely consumed with a boiling rage. He pulled Blaine from the bed and heaved him across the room. He was screaming, but Blaine couldn't tell what. His face was bright red, his eyes wild and spit flying from his mouth. Blaine glanced at Ramon, who was huddled in the bed, looking terrified. His father then hit him. He hit him again, and again, and once more with Blaine's signed baseball bat (he actually hated baseball). His head was throbbing, forehead bleeding, but his father wasn't done yet. He kept screaming, beating him hard with his fists and the bat. Throbbing with pain and blinded by blood, Blaine managed to heave himself away, dodging a blow of the bat by hiding under his desk. The desk took the blow and one of Blaine's drawers fell out. There… amongst the contents of the drawer was a small, shiny, steal letter knife. Blaine wasn't sure why he had it, but there it was, the sun reflecting off it perfectly. Without thinking Blaine grabbed it, staggering to his feet and holding it in front of him. "Get back" he screamed over and over, he could hear Ramon sobbing in the bed. Blaine's dad dropped the bat, his eyes still burning and face still contorted with murderous rage. He screamed and threw himself at Blaine and Blaine raised the knife to ward him off… his hand suddenly felt warm and wet, he looked down to find the letter knife was deep within his father's throat, blood pouring out onto his hand. His father's eyes were wide, with shock mostly. He made horrible gurgling sounds, and staggered back. Blaine lost his grip and the knife stayed in his father's throat, who was still taking desperate, gurgling breathes for air. He tried to knock the knife out, but instead vomited a mouthful of blood and collapsed. His eyes were open, but he was dead. The rest was a blur to Blaine, but he remembered a few things. Ramon screaming and running from the room, for fear he was next. His mother coming home and screaming. The police arriving. Being found guilty. Guilty… Guilty… Guilty…

The story was over; he'd ripped off the band aid. He turned to Kurt, ready for the worst. "… I killed my father. I stabbed him with a knife. You may not be guilty but I am. I'm guilty… I did it." Blaine's voice was a whisper, the lump in his throat chocking him. Kurt's expression was blank, unreadable. His face hadn't changed from the natural expression he had has Blaine told the story. But then… Kurt spoke in a whisper.

"… I'm guilty too." Blaine blinked, his heart stopping for a second. "I… I did try to kill someone. I just… I was ashamed, I still am… I didn't think you'd… I thought…"

Blaine nodded, he understood. "I… I'm a murderer…"

"It was an accident." Kurt's hand touched his shoulder, "You were trying to defend yourself."
Blaine shook his head, this wasn't working. Why didn't Kurt hate him? He needed to hate him! "N-no, I wanted to! I'm a murderer! A murd-"

Kurt's finger pressed itself to Blaine's lips, shushing him softly. Blaine's ability to speak melted away, his breath caught in his throat.
"K-Kurt… I…"

"Shh…" Kurt whispered, his eyes calm and… there was something in them. Something he didn't recognise. Then, without warning, Kurt's soft, warm, tender lips pressed against… his cheek. "Shh. Now, go to sleep, okay?" He smiled before moving back to his own bed, pulling the blanket over him and falling asleep.

Blaine felt like he'd just been hit by lightning. He tells Kurt he killed his dad so he'd hate him, and he kisses him! Was it impossible for Kurt to hate him? If Blaine told him he burned down a children's hospital would he make out with him? Blaine sighed and fell down onto his bed, staring at the ceiling. Kurt was guilty… he tried to kill someone… he didn't want Blaine to hate him. Why? Ugh… nothing made sense. He touched his cheek, fingers stroking the area Kurt's lips touched. He was filled with regret… terror. This couldn't go on… he needed to protect Kurt. Was there anyway to get Kurt to hate him? Blaine guessed the only person Kurt could hate would be Sebastian. But Blaine would never rape Kurt. No. Kurt was a perfect, gentle, beautiful creature, and Blaine could never ever force him to do anything like that. Sebastian was pure evil…

What did the other guy do to make Kurt want to kill him? Was it self defence? Rape again?

Blaine's mind was so alive with buzzing questions that he couldn't get to sleep. The sky beyond was a light orange with grey clouds before Blaine's mind gave up and allowed himself to sink into a deep, dreamless sleep.