8 Months Later
Blaine sat near the window. He had been spending a lot of time in this corner of the coffee shop the past three months. It had become his safe place, his own private sanctuary despite the buzzing atmosphere. His trembling hand grasped the paper cup housing his medium drip. He winced when the plastic lid pressed to his cut lip. It was still sore as were his ribs and wrists. Thank goodness it was winter and he was able to wear his cardigans again. They hid a lot. And he had a lot to hide.
His hazel eyes watched the snowflakes flutter down in the dark night as he let his thoughts take him. Even though he was living a nightmare he was grateful for many things. It was good that everyone he knew lived in a different city – he was alone in Boston – at lease no one he knew from his past was around. No one would see the evidence of the hell he was living – especially not Kurt. He couldn't handle Kurt seeing him like this – weak and dejected and … broken. He was nothing like the strong and confident Blaine everyone knew back home.
Blaine didn't quite know how he had gotten to this moment. He thought he would be able to perceiver Kurt's rejection after he had made himself apply to The Berklee School of Music to study Music Education and was accepted. He moved to Boston and had adapted quite easily to the city, school, and the workload. Shortly after his freshman year had started he met an amazing man – he had been kind, funny, driven, and incredibly handsome. Blaine thought he would be able to forget his tumultuous past with Kurt and even be able to be his friend again – just friends as Kurt wanted. He had been happy with Tyler, the junior who had quickly become his new boyfriend.
Blaine took another careful sip of his coffee as he reminisced how wonderful Tyler had been at the beginning of their relationship. He had been very affectionate and kind. He showered Blaine with flowers and home-made dinners. He was genuinely interested in what Blaine had to say and in his dreams for the future. And of course the sex had been fantastic. Quite simply, Blaine had been wooed. If any one of Blaine's friends had been around to look into the relationship from the outside, they may have suspected that Tyler was grooming Blaine; as it had turned out that's exactly what he had done. Tyler quickly realised that Blaine was in a weak point in his life. Blaine had been open and up front about his past relationship and his emotions regarding it. Tyler seized the opportunity.
Blaine had been on cloud nine with Tyler. Yes, he still loved Kurt – he would love Kurt for eternity – but he was able to let go of the dream that he and Kurt would live their lives together. At least that's what he told himself. Deep down he knew that Tyler was a rebound but he shoved those thoughts to the side and concentrated instead on a future with him. He could see himself settling down with him, moving in together, and eventually getting married. His life wouldn't be the happily ever after that he had once thought it might be but with Tyler he could have a decent life. A satisfactory life.
But on Christmas Eve, three months after they had met, Blaine's world came crashing down again.
A whispered sob escaped Blaine's bruised lips as the snowflakes outside became blurry in his field of view. He looked down and let the tears fall then wiped at his face quickly, not wanting the coffee shop patrons to see him cry. Remembering was painful but Blaine couldn't stop playing that day over and over again in his mind – daily. He couldn't stop punishing himself because in his mind he deserved to be punished. He hadn't been good enough for Kurt and it was clear he wasn't good enough for Tyler either.
And it was like his thoughts knew – they continued to punish him as they traveled to the forefront of his brain again … He had arrived at Tyler's apartment as previously planned – though he was half an hour late because he had stopped to buy one final gift for his boyfriend. He made his way through the door and dusted the snow off his jacket as he placed the bag of gifts on the floor. Before he could remove his boots, a hand grabbed him by the lapels of his coat and forced him into the apartment. He suddenly stood in front of an angry and surprisingly drunk Tyler.
"Why the fuck didn't you tell me, Blaine?" Tyler shouted.
A confused look painted Blaine's face as his eyes searched for any clues, "tell you what?"
"Don't play dumb with me."
"Ty, I don't…" The pain was excruciating. His jaw felt like it had been broken. The side of his head hit the floor leaving his temple warm and wet and when he pressed his fingers there they came back red with blood.
"I told you! Do not play dumb with me!" Tyler yelled as he shook his right hand, trying to free it from pain.
Blaine didn't say anything as he tried to sit up and shake the confusion out of his mind. Had Tyler hit him? Tyler? His Tyler? Why? Blaine felt himself being dragged up by his coat again. "When were you going to tell me that you're a cheating little bitch?"
"What the hell?" Blaine screamed, making his already throbbing head pound even harder.
"You cheated on your ex? How long until you cheated on me too?"
"Tyler, I would…" Again, the pain was excruciating. Another blow landed on Blaine's face, splitting his lip open as he was thrown into the corner of the wall, his ribs seemingly splitting apart from the force.
"I'm going out," Tyler spit out his words. "Get yourself cleaned up because you look like shit. When I get back you better be here and be ready to talk. Unless you want some more."
The buzzing emitting from Blaine's phone brought him out of his thoughts and back to the coffee shop. He checked the texts, knowing exactly who it was from and what it would say:
Sweetness, I'm so sorry. Please come home. I'll make it up to you.
Blaine sighed and drank the last sips of his coffee. How many times would he keep going back? Tyler had become a chronic abuser. It was now a weekly occurrence and any little thing would set him off into a tantrum of blinding rage – this morning it was because Blaine had forgot to start the dishwasher and his favourite mug was still dirty. Most times he would only yell and belittle Blaine but it was becoming more common for Tyler to get physical. It was always the same pattern. He would beat the crap out of Blaine, leave in a rage, coax him back with apologies and crying, then pound him into their mattress to "make it up" to him.
Blaine kept on returning. The truth is he wasn't ready to leave because he had it set in his mind that no one else would love him. No one could love a cheating, beat up nobody like him – especially Kurt. Tyler was the best he could do. And so, he picked up his phone, wrapped his scarf around his neck, wincing as his bruised ribs stretched then slipped out the door into the cold night, trudging back into the nightmare he now called his life.
"Santana, just get your fucking hands off of me," Kurt shrieked.
"I won't. I'm getting really tired of dragging your ass home night after night but I will never fail you, Kurt. Now shut up and get in the car."
Kurt huffed as he sat down dramatically in Santana's car. His eyesight blurred and his head spun from the bottle of gin he had consumed. "Why can't you just let me be? How do you find me every night?"
"I have a Mexican third eye, remember? Plus, I'm your friend and I know you Hummel. Now buckle up and don't you dare puke in my car."
They drove home in familiar silence. Santana wondered how long she would have to keep doing this. Five nights a week she was out looking after a drunken Kurt and the other two nights she sat with him in their apartment as he cried his heart out to her. It was always the same story – Blaine, Blaine, Blaine. She looked over to where Kurt's head plastered against her window. "You can call him you know."
"We've been through this," Kurt spoke slowly as to not slur his words. He was used to this – he was learning how to act sober even when he was completely intoxicated. "He doesn't want to be my friend."
"No. He doesn't want to be JUST your friend. It's been a long time Kurt. Call him. Talk. Maybe things have changed. Or even if you don't, for fuck's sake, stop drinking. Do you really think Blaine is going to want to be with you if you're a drunk?"
"Fuck off."
"I won't. I'm your friend and I love you."
"Besides, I heard he has a boyfriend," he turned his head to look out the window.
"You won't know where you stand unless you talk to him." Santana parked in front of their apartment building and made to get out of the car. Kurt's hand grasped her around the wrist. It was only then that she noticed Kurt's wet eyes.
"I don't know how long I can go on like this, Santana. I started drinking to forget the pain but even that's not working anymore. I just want to drink more and more often. I don't ever want to be sober because that means I'll have to face my life. My pathetic lonely Blaine-less life."
Santana scooted closer to him. "I've never known Kurt Hummel to back down from a challenge. This will be a challenge. It may be the hardest challenge of your life but it will be worth it in the end. We are all worried about you Kurt. Me, your dad, Carol, your friends. We will help you but you need to help yourself too."
"I can't. I'm just too broken."
"Let's go inside. You need to sleep. We can talk more in the morning."
The morning came but when Santana peeked into Kurt's room at 9:30 he was gone. Unfortunately she knew exactly where he had gone. She sighed as she pulled on her coat and slipped out into the cold New York morning and made her way to Central Park where she knew she would find a drunk Kurt on his usual bench with his usual travel mug filled with whiskey. She sat down beside him. A good few minutes of silence passed before Santana spoke. "You're killing yourself."
"Maybe I want to."
"You do not."
"He broke my heart, Santana."
"I know. I don't excuse him for cheating and I don't excuse him for not being able to man up and be a friend to you but you need to realise that you've also broken his heart by not being able to forgive him and trust him again. It's Blaine, Kurt. Not just some random guy. It's Blaine. Your Blaine."
Kurt took another sip of whiskey and stared out at the snow. Santana gently took his cup from him and dumped out its contents. "No matter what happens with Blaine – whether you decide to call him or not – I need you to stop doing this to yourself. Please Kurt. It's killing you and it's killing me. If for nothing else, just stop because I'm tired of chasing you around all the time."
"I never asked for you to take care of me."
"Oh, you're going to play that card? Kurt, if it weren't for me who knows where you'd be or even if you'd be alive. When was the last time you called your dad? Does he even know you dropped out of school? Does he know you've been drinking away your summer money? Does he know that I've had to cover rent for the past two months? What's next Kurt? Are you going to start selling your body so that you can chase the next high?"
"That doesn't sound like a bad idea." Kurt got up and looked down into Santana's eyes. "You're a good friend Santana. There's no arguing that you've kept me alive but really, I don't want to be alive anymore. Not without him. So please, I'm asking you for the last time to just leave me alone."
Santana watched him pull his coat tighter around himself and trudge off into the park. Hot tears cooled against her flushed cheeks as she whispered softly, "I will never ever leave you alone, Hummel."