Blaine drummed his fingers on his own forearm as he hugged himself in the chair. He hated waiting. What he hated more was waiting for a flight that would take him back to his nightmare. What he hated even more than that was waiting for that flight with the man sitting beside him.
"You made the right decision, sweetness."
If he calls me that again I'm going to vomit, Blaine thought to himself. "You really didn't give me a choice."
"There's always a choice, Blaine. You made the right one. I know it's because deep down you love me and you want this to work."
He was going to be sick. He closed his eyes and thought about what Kurt must have thought when he read the note. He thought about how Kurt would blame himself. He thought about how Kurt wouldn't be able to cope and he thought about how Kurt was probably half way through a bottle of whiskey by now. And it was all his fault. But the alternative was even more terrifying – Tyler laying a hand on Kurt – that was just something he could never live with. No. He would take all the pain. He would take all the hurt. He would willingly fall into the nightmare again if it meant Kurt would be safe. There was no other choice unless he went to the police but who's to say he had enough evidence? Who's to say that Tyler would be found guilty and go to jail? Who's to say that Tyler wouldn't find a way to hurt him and Kurt if he went to the authorities. Tyler would kill him. He may kill him anyway. Blaine knew the second he walked through that door in Boston he would get the shit kicked out of him. Why was he going willingly? Because Kurt. Because he was protecting Kurt. And because Blaine Anderson was broken and just didn't have the courage to fight.
"Sweetness, come on. We have to board." Tyler stood and held a hand out for him – as if he were a gentleman. Blaine ignored the outstretched hand but did get out of his seat and made his way to the gate and toward the plane leading him straight to hell.
Kurt sat on the now familiar stool at the bar - his double whiskey taunting in front of him, mocking him. He had ordered it. He had held it in his hand. He had smelled it and drew it up to his mouth but he had yet to actually take a sip. Kurt knew that one sip would be all it would take. Once he tasted the liquor and felt it warm his throat there would be no going back.
So he didn't take a drink. There was something tugging his insides telling him to be strong – to man up. Was it Santana's voice? Was it Burt's voice? Was it Blaine's? Or was it his own? Was the Kurt Hummel of the past infiltrating his way outward and trying to take command of this situation – of his brain and his heart? He lifted the glass again to his lips, he smelled the sweet aroma. He didn't particularly like the smell or the taste but it was a means to an end. It was a way to make him forget, to take the edge off, to ease his nerves and anxiety - and his sadness. He was sad - sad for Blaine and sad for himself. How much longer would they go back and forth like this? How much longer would they allow themselves to be hurt because they were too scared to join together once and for all? What was blocking them?
Kurt thought way back to when he met Blaine. Why he met Blaine. Why he had let Blaine in. Was it because he needed directions? Yes. Was it because Blaine looked adorable in his navy blazer? Yes. Was it because of those damned hazel pools that summoned something inside of him he never knew existed? Yes. But Kurt knew the real reason. He knew the turning point. It was because Blaine gave him courage. Blaine helped him fend off the bullies – physically sometimes but mostly emotionally. Blaine gave him courage to stand up to Karofsky. Blaine gave him courage to go back to McKinley. Blaine gave him courage to get coronated as Prom Queen. Blaine gave him courage to leave Lima and go to New York despite NYADA's rejection letter. Blaine. Courage. The words were sort of synonymous for Kurt. But Kurt also knew that Blaine had lost his courage. Blaine had lost everything.
He swirled the whiskey in his glass, watching as it coated the clear walls. It was then that Kurt decided that he would give Blaine just a little bit of what Blaine had given him. He would be courageous for Blaine. And he would give Blaine that courage too – not because he owed him anything but because he loved him. He loved him more than there were stars in the sky.
Kurt pushed the glass away. He picked up his phone and dialed.
Burt Hummel's pocket vibrated. When he saw who was calling he answered it immediately. "Hey son, what's up?"
"Dad. I need your help."
Blaine felt like a dead man walking. The flight to Boston was just a means to get to his execution, so to speak. Tyler had been overbearingly sweet and attentive to him. Blaine knew that it wasn't because he felt guilty or because he loved him. It was because that's the way he always acted when he was about to blow up. Blaine couldn't help but wonder if today would be the day, if he would even make it out alive this time. Blaine knew that he should do something, his better judgement was screaming at him to do something. He should run. He should tell. He should fight back – all those years of boxing and training. He had boxed because it was a good work out. He had boxed because he loved the smell of the leather gloves mixed with sweat. He loved the feel of leather hitting leather each time he punched the bag. It was somehow empowering - but to use his fists on a human? To use his fists to hurt someone? Blaine couldn't bring himself to do that, even if it was in self defense – at least not in his own self defense.
Blaine closed his eyes as Tyler slipped the key into the door. "After you," he gestured with a smile.
Blaine stood frozen. He didn't want to go in. He didn't want the door to close behind him. He didn't want to get beat up. He didn't want to die. It was very possible that he would never ever see Kurt again if he walked through that door.
"I'm waiting," Tyler said impatiently.
"I know what will happen once that door is closed, Tyler."
"You deserve it with what you did to me."
"No I don't."
"Get in or I'll force you in." Tyler gripped Blaine's elbow.
As luck would have it, some neighbours came around the corner chatting loudly as they walked down the hall. "Tyler! Hey! How have you been?" They stopped to talk.
Blaine let out a breath of thanks at the interruption. And just then his phone buzzed. He dug it out of his pocket to read the message while Tyler was distracted.
Blaine, I don't know what is going on. All I know is that you left. But, I can't accept that. We belong together and whatever is happening, I'll help you through it. I'm coming. I'm coming to get you. I love you so much.
Blaine's eyes pricked with tears. He felt just a little bit like he could breathe. Reading the text made his adrenaline spike even if it was only a little bit. Kurt was coming. Kurt was coming to help him. How did he deserve such a man? How could he even think to take all of Tyler's abuse lying down if he had a man like Kurt to go home to?
"Get in," Tyler demanded. Blaine was torn from his thoughts as he realized the neighbours had moved on.
"I won't."
"I will force you, Blaine. I swear to god…"
"If you lay a hand on me I will fight back. I've never fought back before but I will this time."
Tyler laughed. He grasped Blaine by the lapels of his coat and threw him into the apartment.
Kurt and Burt had rushed to the airport. They paid way more than they should have for a last minute flight to Boston. Unbeknownst to them, they had only been two hours behind Blaine's flight. Kurt filled Burt in on the note Blaine had left. He didn't know Blaine's situation. He didn't know if Blaine was forced to go with Tyler or if he had gone willingly for other reasons.
But Burt knew better and he was able to fill in the blanks. He knew what Tyler was capable of. He knew how broken Blaine had been while living with him. He feared the worst and even though he didn't want to make his son more anxious he had to tell him what he was really thinking. "Son, I don't think Blaine left because he was scared of committing to you."
"Ironically, I was afraid you'd say that." Kurt looked out the small oval window at the darkening sky. "You think he went back to Tyler?"
"I think Tyler made him go back."
"How can anyone make anyone do anything, Dad? He chose to go with him."
"He's broken, Kurt. He's hurting. He's suffered months of manipulation and abuse from this guy. He's not in the right frame of mind to make clear decisions. Healing from something like that takes more than a week."
A tear rolled down Kurt's cheek. "A broken Blaine breaks my heart, Dad. I'm going to kill Tyler when I see him."
"No you're not. You're going to help Blaine. If it comes to it, I'll deal with Tyler."
"No, Dad, your heart…"
"Screw my heart, Kurt. This guy has put Blaine and now you through hell. He put his hands on that sweet loving boy. He's a bully. He's a monster and if need be he will feel the Hummel wrath - but not from you. From me."
"I don't think I'll ever feel better if I don't break his nose myself, dad."
"Blaine needs you to be there for him more than he needs you to break anyone's nose. Plus, once I'm done with him he'll be lucky if he only has a broken nose."
Kurt slipped his hand over his dad's. He felt uneasy. He felt anxious. He was worried sick for Blaine. But he was so grateful that Burt Hummel was beside him because he knew that together they would get Blaine back. He just hoped that they weren't too late.
Burt squeezed Kurt's hand, "oh, and kid, don't think it went unnoticed that you didn't touch that whiskey."
Kurt looked into his dad's eyes and took a deep breath. "I'd be no help to Blaine if I were drunk. I'd be a disappointment to you and to myself. I'm done with that. Done for good."
Burt smiled. "I love you, Kurt. It's nice to have you back."
Blaine had managed to crawl into the bedroom. He would have crawled straight into a sewer if it meant getting away from the unconscious and bloody body that was strewn on the living room floor. He sat back against the dresser and rocked gently trying to forget what had just transpired. He wiped at the tears on his cheeks and found that he had smeared blood all over his hand. He must be cut but he didn't know where because his entire face hurt. He knew it would swell and turn black just as every other time. He tried to suppress his sobs because every time he took a breath it hurt. He suspected he had broken ribs. He pressed his forehead to his knees as he kept rocking, he kept crying, he kept shaking. He couldn't believe he had hurt another person. He couldn't believe that he punched Tyler's face until he was literally a rag doll in his grip. He had beat him unconscious and he would need to pay the price. He would need to turn himself in … eventually because he didn't know if Tyler was just unconscious or if he was dead and Blaine had been too scared to check. His head swam with the images of what had happened. Blaine had somehow become courageous. Not somehow. It was Kurt. Kurt's text. Deep down inside Blaine no longer wanted to be a victim. He didn't want to live in this nightmare anymore. And adrenaline must've taken over. He fought back.
The pictures in his mind were relentless. They kept coming at him in full colour – vivid and clear. Tyler had thrown him into the apartment. He remembered hitting the wall with his back and the back of his head. He saw stars and fell to the floor; Tyler was on him instantly. He fought back. He clutched at Tyler's throat to try to push him off. He jerked his knees up into his stomach. He kicked at Tyler's shins and ankles. They rolled around the floor, each trying to gain the upper hand. Blaine remembered looking into Tyler's eyes at one point and seeing something in them he never had before – shock. And fear. And just like when a shark smells blood, Blaine's adrenaline shot up. He wouldn't be beat this time. He wouldn't lie down and take it. Tyler needed to taste his own medicine. He needed to pay. Pain exploded throughout Blaine's fist as he made contact with Tyler's jaw. He heard Tyler's head snap back. So he punched him again, this time connecting with his nose. Tyler was experienced though and he got quite a few shots in of his own. He split Blaine's lip and connected with his cheek, surely giving him an instant black eye. They jostled around the floor for a bit grunting and spewing hateful threats until Blaine was able to roll them over and kneel up above him. He grabbed at Tyler's collar and punched him again and again. He lost count how many times his fist connected with his face. He lost his composure. He lost his innocence. He lost everything he ever stood for in this world. Peace. Kindness. Love. But he gained back his courage. And he beat Tyler into the floor until he was no longer fighting back – until he was limp, bloody, and unconscious.
Blaine sobbed hard on the floor of Tyler's bedroom as he remembered what that felt like. For a split second he had been relieved. He had been proud. He had felt powerful. But as he looked at the mess that was Tyler's face – barely recognizable – it all came crashing down. He was no better than the monster which put him in this situation. He had hurt someone - another human. He had almost (maybe even) killed a person.
No amount of courage and no amount of love could have stopped Blaine from drowning in sorrow and guilt. He leaned forward and vomited on the floor. He didn't even have the self-respect to make an attempt to make it into the bathroom. He hated himself. As his sobs broke through again and as the tears created pathways along his bloody face, he fell over and into the fetal position. Blaine Anderson closed his eyes and let sleep (he hoped it was death) take him – and that is how Kurt Hummel found him.