I finally finished this chapter. It's not that it was particularly hard to write or anything, it's just that I went back to school a few weeks ago, so I didn't really have a lot of spare time to work on it. Sorry :/

I'm trying to work out the kinks in this story. I'm doing some research to see just what is legal in terms of custody and checking people out of hospitals, haha. I'm gonna tweak the last chapter so it makes more sense. I'm also sorry about the weird spacing... sometimes the lines have a lot of space between them, and sometimes they don't... Lord knows why...

We're back to Blaine's point of view, sort of. Or at least, we're inside his head for the beginning of this chapter. Sorry if my minor P.O.V. changes are confusing you…. Maybe we should just begin to think of it as a 3rd person omniscient.

Blaine's heart was racing. He gnawed at his bottom lip anxiously—he'd probably never been so nervous in his life. But he couldn't keep that big a secret from his parents, he just couldn't constantly deal with the fact that he was living a lie; no, no, that just wouldn't do, no matter who his parents wanted him to be. He was just going to have to spit it out, it had to be done….
"I'm gay," he said suddenly, interrupting his father's rant about college football. A sudden awkward silence broke out across the room. "Um, and could you please pass the potatoes?" he added hurriedly, trying to avoid the subject.
A few more silent moments passed, no one passing him anything. His parents just stared at him, surprised by the news—no, surprised wasn't the right word, more like disgusted.
"Excuse me?" his father said through gritted teeth, his grip on his fork noticeably tightening in rage. "I sure hope that this is some kind of a joke, son, because you know that we won't have any of that crap in this house—"

"No, Dad, this isn't…. I—I think I'm really gay," Blaine said in an almost-whisper, looking down at the peas he was pushing around on his plate.

His father glared at Blaine with fiery eyes. "We raised you better," was all he said. "We raised you better than that."

Blaine was growing a bit agitated at his father's ignorance. He set his fork carefully on his plate before he began to speak. "It's not a 'lifestyle choice', you know. There have been recent scientific studies—"

"Do I look like I fucking care about the scientific studies, Blaine?" his father yelled, the vein in his temple bulging. "We have not raised you to be a fag, and that's that!"

"Don't use that word, please," Blaine spoke in as respectful a tone he could manage, doing his best to control his temper.

"What? Fag?" his father quipped. "Fag is not a bad word, Blaine. It's the appropriate term for someone who commits the sin of homosexuality, in my book. And I know that I didn't raise my son to be a sinner."

"Your father's right, Blaine," his mother added. "We just want what's best for you, is all. By telling you that homosexuality is not the best lifestyle for you is only going to help you in the long run, honey."

Blaine's face flushed, embarrassed that he ever brought it up. He had to press on, though. What was that saying? That little phrase that he told Kurt? Oh, right. Prejudice is just ignorance. "Look, all I'm saying is that I encourage you to do some research. Maybe that'll help you accept the fact that I was born this way, and there's nothing I can do about it."

Blaine's father threw his fork across the room in fury. "Not in my house," he hissed. "You won't be a faggot in my house, you won't." He stood from the dinner table and yanked Blaine by the forearm across the room, where he pinned Blaine's wrists to the wall, his face less than an inch away from his son's. "You wanna tell me you're a fag one more time?"

"Mom," Blaine squeaked, glancing over to his mother helplessly. She remained seated at the table as she looked in on the situation, her eyes wide and mouth slightly ajar.

"DO YOU!" his father screamed, face beet red. "DO YOU!"

"Mom, help, please," Blaine said in an almost inaudible tone, his eyes filled with unshed tears. He hated to admit it to himself, but he had always sort of had this unspoken fear for his father, and now, with his arms pinned up against the wall and no way to escape, he was positively terrified.

"Oh, don't you even go crying for your mother," he said. "I'm going to handle you, whether you like it or not."

"Dad, please—"

Blaine's father smacked him—hard—across the face. Blaine screamed in agony. "I dare you to tell me you're gay one more time. I dare you."

"I—I'm sorry, I just really thought—"

Blaine's dad punched him in the stomach, knocking the wind out of him. Blaine let out a strangled noise, desperate for breath.

With that, his father released Blaine's wrists. The boy slid to the ground and covered his face in his arms, ashamed. He wanted to run away from his horrible house and find someone else who would take him in and accept him, no matter who he was… but his boy was trembling so hard that he didn't even know if he could stand up. A long, tearful sob escaped him.

"Now shut the fuck up and finish your dinner. We wasted enough time fooling around already, now come on."

Blaine removed his head from his arms. His face felt hot and sticky from crying. But when he looked up at his surroundings, they were notably different: he appeared to be in a bedroom, the bed neatly made with crisp, white linen. To his left was a small dresser with a glass of water and neat rows of lotion bottles—and towering directly in front of him was none other than Kurt Hummel, the owner of the cozy, organized little room.

Blaine stood from the ground to embrace Kurt. He reached out to wrap his arms around his boyfriend, but was greeted with an aggressive shove backwards. "Kurt, what's wrong, I was just—"

"Don't even speak to me, fucking faggot," Kurt spat. "Get away from me. You're nothing but a disgrace."

"Kurt, I don't understand, I thought you were—I thought you were my boyfriend!" Blaine said. He cowered back in fear.

"Why would you even say that? Why would anyone ever love you?" Kurt moved towards Blaine and kicked him in the shin. "I'm sorry I ever met you. I hate you so much right now, do you know that? So. Fucking. Much." He repeatedly kneed Blaine until he was a sobbing mess on his bedroom floor, where he proceeded to stomp on his face. A bit of blood tricked from Blaine's mouth, which was agape and screaming. "Goodbye, faggot."

Darkness.

"Blaine, please, honey, wake up, wake up!"

Blaine woke suddenly and hastily scrambled out of bed, trying to get as far away from Kurt as possible. "Don't touch me!" he screamed. "Please, please, just don't touch me!"

Kurt backed away from Blaine as far as he could. "Wha—what's the matter with you?" he whispered. Kurt cradled his elbows with his hands.

"Please, I can change, I promise! I'm sorry, I'm sorry, just don't hurt me!" he wailed, his face contorted into a terrible expression of fright.

"Honey, please, if you'd tell me what's wrong, I could help you," Kurt cooed, moving towards Blaine cautiously. He extended a hand to the boy.

"DON'T TOUCH ME!" Blaine shrieked, slapping Kurt away.

"Blaine, what the hell is wrong with you!" Kurt shouted.

And suddenly Blaine was collapsing to the ground, sobbing, murmuring 'I'm sorry' over and over into his hands.

Kurt walked over to him and knelt down by his side. He didn't want to upset Blaine by touching him, so he just said softly, "It's okay, everything's alright, you're fine."

"Oh, God, I'm so sorry, Kurt, I"—he sniffled—"won't bother you anymore, I was just having a dream is all…."

Kurt hesitated for a second before asking his question. "Were you dreaming about—you know…?"

Blaine knuckled away the tears from his cheeks. "Not really, no…. I started off dreaming about my dad…. And all of a sudden, I was in your bedroom, and you were yelling at me, and telling me how you didn't"—he choked on his tears—"how you didn't love me, and you were kicking me, and..." Blaine's voice trailed off. He sniffled again before he turned to Kurt and encompassed him in a tight, needy hug. He buried his face in Kurt's shoulder.

"I want you to know that I'll never stop loving you, Blaine," Kurt murmured into his boyfriend's ear.

Blaine pulled away from Kurt. He smiled. "You're the most amazing—I—I love you so much."

XXX

"So, um, I did some research today," Kurt said at an attempt to break the silence that had come across the dinner table, "and I found out that it's completely normal for you to have dreams about this kind of stuff, Blaine." (Blaine turned red and looked down at his plate awkwardly, but Kurt continued on.) "This one website called it re-experiencing. Apparently, many"—Kurt cleared his throat—"survivors—suffer intrusive thoughts or dreams that involve the event. So don't feel—"

"Kurt, I appreciate it, but I really don't wanna talk about this now," Blaine said, his tone so low it was almost imperceptible.

Kurt looked taken aback, but shut up anyway.

"Well, I did some research, too," Burt said. He set his fork down. "According to this one source, it's technically not legal to house you here without your parents' permission." Blaine opened his mouth to speak, but Burt cut him off. "I know you had that episode in the hospital about not wanting to call your parents, but it has to be done. We need to let them know that you're staying here. It's just the rules, kid. Not my call."

Kurt looked back and forth between Blaine and Burt nervously. Kurt's father had no idea about the crap Blaine's dad had given him, surely some of which would be serious enough to get Blaine taken away by child protective services. Granted, Mr. Anderson had never caused any permanent damage, but he sure had smacked his son around quite a bit… and that's not even beginning to cover the verbal abuse Blaine had suffered through. Kurt knew that Blaine's parents were certainly not the most suitable guardians, but yet he was so afraid to tell somebody, do afraid of what Mr. Anderson might do if he found out that Blaine had told someone that he'd been mistreated. But to his surprise, Blaine was quite willing.

"I… I guess…." A moment of hesitation. "Yes, sir. You can call him. I'll give you his number after dinner. But, please, just don't make me talk to him…."

Burt nodded sagely. "No problem."

XXX

Blaine and Kurt stood outside Burt and Carole's bedroom, eavesdropping on the phone conversation through a cracked door. Kurt was biting at his bottom lip worriedly, hoping that things would turn out well for his boyfriend; Blaine, on the other hand, stood next to Kurt, emotionless, straining his ears to hear every detail of the conversation.

"Mr. Anderson, this is Burt. Kurt's father? You—you don't know who Kurt is? Does 'your son's boyfriend' ring a bell?" Burt paused for a moment to let Mr. Anderson scream and yell in protest. "Okay, okay, would you just shut up now? You should be glad that your son has met someone he cares about. I know that I couldn't be more happy for Kurt." Another pause. "That's not the reason I'm calling you, Mr. Anderson. You need to know that your son has been injured, and that we've been the ones who were taking care of him for these past few days. I assure you that he's been in good hands. But I think you deserve to know the truth about what has happened—" Burt was cut off by Mr. Anderson. "Well, no wonder Blaine didn't want to talk to you! What kind of prick doesn't care about the trouble his own son has gotten into?"

Just a few moments later, and they were both screaming at each other. "Your SON, your own SON was RAPED and you don't even give a damn! I bet I could call child protective services and they'd come in a heartbeat! You can't call yourself a father when you don't even give a fuck as to where your kid is or why he's injured!" Burt slammed the phone down on the receiver and rubbed his forehead right under the bill of his cap. He looked up and caught a glimpse of the two teenagers standing outside of his door; they tried to scurry away, but Burt called them into his bedroom.

"We're sorry, we didn't mean to… overhear or anything…." Kurt squeaked. Blaine nodded and looked down at his shoes.

Burt stayed silent for several seconds, seemingly pondering the options he had at hand. "Blaine, I think—I think you're going to stay at our house for a while until we can figure things out," he finally said.

"But… wh—why?" Blaine asked quietly.

Burt heaved a sigh. "I don't wanna disappoint you, buddy," he said plainly. "But you deserve the truth."

Blaine looked anxiously at Kurt, who shrugged.

"Your father seemed rather insistent that he doesn't want you to come home," Burt started. "But he did give us permission to house you until you felt better, physically and mentally. He said that your mother was going to come home from her business trip in three days, and then maybe she'll consider taking you back in," he added.

Blaine frowned. "Was he… was he mad?" He bit at the inside of his bottom lip. "I mean… was he mad at me about… about Kurt? Or getting into trouble?"

"It doesn't matter whether or not he was mad, because he had no reason to be. You never did anything wrong, and I want you to know that. Everything that has happened in the past few days was out of your control. We're just glad you're still alive."

Blaine looked mildly unsatisfied with the answer, but put on a tiny, false smile and nodded.

Burt stared at the boys for a moment longer before turning to his bed and seizing a pile of clothing. He tossed the clothes to Blaine. "Uh, here. I grabbed some shirts and stuff from Finn's room, so they're probably gonna be a little big on you…. I figured you might need them, considering you probably didn't, you know, pack bags or anything," Burt said with a small chuckle. He glanced at Kurt, who didn't find what he said as amusing as Burt did. With that, he clapped his hands together and said, "Right. Well, I guess you two can leave."

"Come on, let's go," Kurt said, tugging at Blaine's wrist. The couple departed to Kurt's room.
XXX
The two boys sat cross-legged on Kurt's bed, opposing each other. No one was really speaking, but occasionally, they'd look up from their laps and stare at each other for a short period of time before quickly looking away. Blaine had taken a shower and changed into an old shirt and a pair of heather gray sweatpants, and was tugging at the drawstrings. Kurt watched absentmindedly as Blaine twirled it around his finger.

"Um, Blaine?" Kurt said, the stillness in the room becoming unbearable. "How come, when my dad called your dad, he didn't know about me? Have you never… you know… told him about me?"

"I'm sorry, Kurt," Blaine began quickly, as if he knew the question was going to arise. "It's—it's not that I'm embarrassed of you or anything, I—I was trying to protect you, is all…."

"Wh—what?"

Blaine took a deep breath and looked down at his lap before continuing. "I figured that if I told my dad about you, he'd get angry. Like bad angry. I remember how he was when I told him I was gay… and if he knew I was acting on it? I can't risk you like that, Kurt. I don't want him to hurt you or anything. My dad… he doesn't really give a damn as to whether or not I'm happy. All he wants is to make sure I become the person he wants me to be. And so far, I'm not really living up to his expectations."

"But... but, Blaine… what do you mean, 'how he was when you told him'? What—what did he do to you?"

"He got really pissed, is all. He lectured me, and…."

"Blaine?" Kurt said in that is-there-something-you-aren't-telling-me tone of voice. One of his eyebrows was raised and his eyes were questioning.

Blaine hesitated. "He sort of punched me."

Kurt stared, his mouth slightly ajar. "Oh my God. Oh my God, oh my God, oh my—"

"Not hard!" Blaine added hastily. He tried to reassure Kurt. "It only left a bruise, it went away after a few weeks, nothing broke, I don't think… he just punched me in the stomach, so…."

"Blaine! Just punched you in the stomach? Your father, your own father just punched you? Is that all?" Kurt replied sarcastically. "I mean, I knew your relationship with your father wasn't the best, but he punched you, for Christ's sake? You can't let your mom take you back to him! You can't! I won't let you! He's already pissed about this whole mess we've gotten into—Lord knows what he's going to do when he sees you!"

"Come on, I'm sure he's not really as mad as he seemed on the phone. You have nothing to be worried about, I promise."

Kurt didn't say any more, but rather held his head in his hands and shook his head over and over.

Blaine reached out and covered one of Kurt's hands with his own. "I promise," he said firmly, his eyes locked on Kurt.

Kurt removed his head from his hands and looked up at Blaine. Blaine, his beautiful, loving, amazing boyfriend whom Kurt couldn't picture his life without. He stared right into Blaine's stunning hazel eyes, and in that moment when everything was so perfect, Kurt just couldn't help but to kiss him. He draped his arms loosely around Blaine's neck as he parted his lips just enough so that he could slide the tip of his tongue into Blaine's mouth. Blaine moaned into the kiss and raked his fingers through Kurt's hair. Kurt gently pushed Blaine backwards onto the bed so that he was leaning over him, never letting their lips part.

Blaine's hands found their way to the small of Kurt's back. He lay motionless on the bed whilst Kurt pressed kisses to his jaw line. Blaine shuddered and his eyelids fluttered closed.

Kurt pressed his body up against Blaine's and pressed his lips to Blaine's even harder. His tongue was entwined in Blaine's, and then Blaine sucked at it, and a surge of pleasure jolted through Kurt's body. He tried to restrain himself, hold himself back just the slightest bit, but when Blaine's torso pressed needily into his, Kurt couldn't help but to grind his hips into his boyfriend's.

Kurt used one hand to support himself and the other to pull at the collar of Blaine's tee, whining desperately for the damned piece of clothing to just come off. His whimpers for Blaine were silenced when their pelvises met and Blaine's erection was pressed firmly against his thigh. The hand that was tugging at Blaine's collar slowly made its way down to his sweatpants, where Kurt began tugging impatiently at those instead. Blaine ignored Kurt's struggles, for he was immersed in their kissing; his hands were tangled in Kurt's soft hair, and his tongue continued to explore Kurt's mouth with pure want.

But it was when Kurt finally got Blaine's pants down that problems started to arise.

Kurt's fingertips brushed the front of Blaine's boxers as their kiss intensified; Kurt was trying so hard to hold back, he really was, but he just wanted to satisfy Blaine was all, and—

Blaine tore his lips from Kurt's. "Kurt—" he began, but before he knew it, Kurt's lips were once more attached to his. But now Kurt's fingertips were more than brushing against Blaine's erection—his hand was palming at it repeatedly, which sent waves of pleasure rippling through his body. He tried to remain quiet (After all, he reminded himself, you are in your boyfriend's house, and if his parents hear your moans coming from the bedroom, by God, are you in some deep shit.), but he was so overwhelmed with ecstasy that he couldn't suppress a deep, throaty moan. Kurt took it as the signal to go faster, his hand thoroughly massaging Blaine's crotch; Blaine had never felt so good in his life, he was so overcome with—

"You fucking bastard."

No, no, why am I thinking about that right now? I shouldn't be thinking about that. Stop thinking about that.

"We're gonna give you what you deserve, you little cunt."

Fuck, no, I don't wanna think about that—

"You're gonna regret the day you were born, you little faggot."

Blaine recalled the man, tall and intimidating, shoving his cock inside of him, and his hips writhed at the thought.

Kurt, though, took it as a sign to keep going, so he palmed at Blaine faster, harder, forgetting about his own painful erection (which made him want to rip his pants off, whether they were designer or not—the pants were restraining his boner, and God, did that fucking hurt), only wanting to please Blaine, precious Blaine—

"Ku—st—I—" Blaine muttered through the kiss. Images of the other aggressors popped into his head, of the smaller, tattooed man with the switchblade. He wasn't even paying attention to Kurt any more—he was trapped inside his own head, which was drowning in painful memories. He remembered the tip of the blade digging into his wrist, slicing the skin as if it were cutting through butter. A cry escaped his lips as he recalled how very torturous that was—perhaps, he admitted to himself, as bad as the rape itself. The sheer agony of the man slicing his veins, watching the blood pour out of his wound, was all too much to think about. A cry escaped him.

Kurt was rubbing Blaine, but less furious and more tender. Their faces were no more than half an inch apart when Kurt murmured, "I love you so much. All I ever want to do is please you. Come for me, Blaine." He spoke that last part in a hushed tone, his voice filled with such passion that it sounded poetic.

"Don't you dare make another sound, you little faggot."

Blaine was sobbing now, trying to push Kurt off of him (but struggling quite a bit, considering his arms were too quivery to do much use). "P—please, stop, I can't—" Blaine cried. He tugged his pants back up to his waist.

Kurt drew back, collapsing next to Blaine on the bed. "What happened? Did –did you not want me to do that, Blaine?" Kurt said, stressing the 'L' of his name. He was sure that it came out a little bitchy, but he wasn't sure what he was supposed to do—there he was, rubbing his boyfriend's fucking cock, the first time he'd ever gone that far—and all of a sudden, Blaine was crying, and Kurt felt so positively embarrassed that he just wanted to go back in time about ten minutes and un-kiss Blaine so that none of this mess would've ever happened.

Blaine drew his legs to his chest and buried his head in his knees, avoiding eye contact with Kurt.

"Blaine?"

Blaine stood suddenly, pacing furiously about the floor. His hands flew to his head, and he seized fistfuls of his hair. His face was red and sticky from tears. "I'm thinking about it all the fucking time, Kurt, you have no idea, it drives me insane! For God's sakes, I already had to experience it once, isn't that enough? It's ruining my fucking life!" Blaine leaned against the wall and slid down it, his hands still in his hair. Before Kurt knew it, he was crying again. "I feel so fucking unwanted, Kurt. I feel used and ugly and broken. And I just know that you want to break up with me because I'm nothing but a pain in the ass but you don't, you don't because you feel sorry for me like I'm a broken toy that you don't want to throw out! And it makes me feel like shit, because now I know that my life isn't the only ruined one, but yours is, too, and it's all my fault!"

Kurt sat pressed against his headboard, tears rolling down his pale cheeks. He was a bit shocked, to be frank. "Blaine, no, please don't say that, I love you—"

"Of course!" Blaine laughed sarcastically. Kurt thought he was beginning to look quite insane, what with his unruly curls sticking out every which way and his deranged expression. "Of course that's what you'd say! I don't think you're getting it, Kurt! You don't really love me, you just feel bad! You would've dumped me that very first day you saw me in the hospital, but you didn't. And you know why? Because you pitied me. But, honestly, maybe it would've been better if you did dump me, because every day, I have to look at you and think, God, I'm such a dick. I don't deserve to be alive. I'm ruining this perfect thing's life.

"I've always felt this way, you know. I always felt like I'd never be good enough for you. That I was constantly dragging you down, ruining your reputation. I was working so hard to be perfect for you, even though deep down I knew it was damn right impossible, but I kept working anyway. For you. But ever since I got myself into this shit, I knew that there was no point. So go ahead! I know you want to! Just break up with me, send me back to my parents' house! You don't deserve this crap! Just DO IT, for GOD'S SAKES—"

"SHUT UP! JUST SHUT UP!" Kurt screamed, so loud that it made his throat burn. "YOU'RE SO FUCKING STUPID, BLAINE! You think that I don't love you! You think that I feel sorry for you, that's the only reason I'm still with you! You think that you're ruining my life! You fucking bastard!" Kurt yelled. The shouting was beginning to make him feel dizzy, but he pressed on. "I'm still with you because you saved me, Blaine! You're just to ignorant to realize it! Do you realize how much it hurts me to hear you say that crap? Just shut up!"

"Then why the hell are you still with me? I'm not the same person I was last month, you know! And by GOD, if I'm too ignorant to process anything that comes out of your mouth, then I'll be more than happy to spare you the pain!"

Blaine stood from his spot and stormed out of the room, slamming the door behind him.

Kurt swallowed and stared at the closed door, hurting more than he'd ever hurt in his entire life.

I'm actually sort of pleased with this chapter—or at least with most of it. The other chapters are mega-suckish, and this one is only sorta-suckish. (I smell progressssss!) I wanna say it's the longest chapter thus far (perhaps I should've split it into two chapters)…. It sort of makes me want to redo the first few chapters, though, because I look back on them and don't think they're as good…. Eh, whatever. Tell me your thoughts, please. If there are two things I love in this world, it's Klainebows and reviews. :D (I should also apologize for the one paragraph where it's talking about how Kurt knew that Blaine's parents weren't suitable guardians, since that was sort of inside Kurt's head, whereas this chapter was supposed to be more from Blaine's P.O.V.)

I hope it wasn't too stupid and unrealistic that Kurt asked Blaine why his dad didn't know about him. I just figured that even in a moment of trouble, Kurt still cares about whether or not he and Blaine have a stable and happy relationship… it's just what teenage boys do (not that I would know…).

Sorry about all the italics. I hope you don't mind.

And, yeah, I realize that a lot of my sentences have little variation in sentence structure, but I'm working on it.

Okay, so I just came to an 'oh crap' sort of moment. I've been neglecting Finn! This whole time, he hasn't even been mentioned ONCE (well, except for the little bit about clothes, haha). I'm not going to pretend he's not there, but… let's just say that whenever he isn't at school, he's locked up in his room, playing Black Ops or something. Because, honestly, I could really care less about Finn in this story. I'm not going to write him in just for him to be a totally pointless character.

P.S. Sorry for this ridiculously long author's note.