5

Looking Deeper

Taking Kurt home was the hardest thing Blaine had ever had to do. He didn't want Kurt to go, if he had it his way he'd keep him with him for the rest of his life, just to hear that gentle bell that was his voice speak so softly, so gently, or keep holding his hand. He never thought something like that could be so pleasant, but he wanted to do it again. Which was probably why his fingers were linked in Kurt's as he walked him up to his front door.

"I had an amazing time," Kurt said, smiling at him. Blaine grinned.

"Good. I'm glad. I had a good time too," he said, keeping his voice steady. His heart was thundering, eyes flicking to his lips, wondering if this was a good time to do this. "So, there's this party next weekend and…and I was wondering if you'd like to go…with me." Kurt smiled, nodding.

"Yes, I'd love to go," he said softly. Blaine took another step closer to him, still trying to breathe properly.

Kurt could hear how fast he was breathing. He realized then what Blaine was thinking about doing. He felt his mouth go dry.

"I'll, uh, I'll see you then." Kurt frowned. He didn't want to wait that long to see him again.

"I can't see you sooner?" He wondered. Blaine felt him self blush, his hands sweating.

"Uh, I, um, I can come see you after school Monday. We can go to the Lima Bean and get some coffee," he suggested. Kurt beamed, still amazed that he was holding hands with a boy that thought he was good-looking and was stumbling over his words trying to talk to him.

"Okay." Blaine was so close, his warmth spreading over him.

"Can I…Kurt, can I kiss you?" He breathed. Kurt nodded, trying not to shake. He shut his eyes, waiting. Blaine took a deep breath, leaning forward and so desperate to touch those plump, pink lips.

He brushed against his skin when the door opened.

The boys jumped away from each other, both equally as disappointed and crestfallen.

"Sorry," Burt said, his tone false. "Heard some noise, wasn't sure what it was." Blaine scowled at the floor. Kurt wilted.

"I'll see you, Kurt," he mumbled, hopping off the stairs and heading to his bike.

"Bye," Kurt said softly. He flinched a little when the bike roared to life and he drove off. He turned, stalking into the house. "Thanks, Dad."

"What did I do?" He asked following him inside, defensive.

"Never mind!" He stormed up the stairs, tears in his eyes. Burt followed him.

"Why didn't you tell me he drove a motorcycle? That thing could get you killed!" He said sternly. Kurt shook his head.

"Dad, I don't care if you like what he drives or not, okay?" He sighed, exasperated. He'd been so close to getting his first kiss, from someone amazing and sweet, and his dad had to go and ruin it.

"I don't like this guy, Kurt. He's bad news, I can tell."

Kurt shut his eyes, taking a deep breath. "You know what he is?" He said through gritted teeth. "He's sweet, he's smart, he's funny and his life has been utter hell. But he likes me. He's nice to me. He doesn't think I'm too lady-like, he's actually gay, and he thinks I'm cute. Do you know how many people have ever said I was cute?"

"Kurt, I know you're getting some attention from this guy-"

"Who you've never spoken two words to," he snapped. "Dad, you and I both know how well I can read people. You know I wouldn't be telling you he was a good guy if he actually wasn't, okay? Tonight you interrupted what could have been my first kiss with him. I'm seeing him again this week and hopefully for a couple weeks to come. I might actually get a boyfriend out of this, and I really, really like him, okay? I get enough of this from people at school, can I at least get some support from you?"

Burt looked at his son for a moment, understanding that he wasn't a child anymore. Kurt didn't need protecting, despite his handicap, not anymore, and he could make these decisions himself. Blaine looked like bad news, he really did, but if Kurt wanted to be with him there was nothing Burt could do anymore.

"Alright," he surrendered, holding up his hands. "Alright, you win. If you wanna be with this guy, then I support you, okay? But if he does one thing to get you in trouble or hurt you-"

"He would never hurt me."

"You're sure about that?"

"Yeah, Dad. I'm sure." He sighed, shaking his head. "I'm gonna go to bed and try not to think about the awesome kiss I just missed out on."

Punch.

Punch.

Slap.

Punch.

Punch.

Fall.

Kick.

Stomp.

Kick.

"That's what you get for picking up the wrong cigarettes, faggot."

No, Blaine's mind scolded as he forced himself off the floor, blood in his mouth, body aching. Not tonight. Why did he have to beat me tonight? It was so perfect, so wonderful with Kurt there. Soft, sweet, sassy, spiteful, beautiful Kurt.

He trudged back into his room, glaring at his mother as he went, who was peeking out of the bathroom with a glass of scotch as he passed. Tonight had been so great until now…

He sat down on his bed, opening his bedside drawer and taking out his oldest and closest friend.

A razor.

He rolled back his sleeve, staring at the blade, turning it over in his hand. He couldn't control Kurt's feelings for him, or his father's outbursts of rage on his body, or whether or not Kurt's dad would let him be with such a wreck. But he could control this. He could decide whether or not he'd cut shallow or deep, long or short, painful or painless. This was his to deicide, and right now, to down out the pain he felt in his heart and remind him the bruises he just received would only be a memory soon, this had to hurt. It'd help. It had to, and he needed something to take away from it.

He shut his eyes, sighing almost in relief when the blade bit into his skin, hot blood pouring down his wrist.

What would Kurt think about this?

"Who cares?" He said almost inaudibly. No one cared about him, especially someone like Kurt. His father didn't care, his mother didn't care and the Warblers-

They care.

They'd get high before they'd help me.

His father hated him, wanted him dead sometimes. He would never care. His mother would drown herself in alcohol, ever ignoring his beatings, his pain, his abuse that had been going on for as long as he could remember.

And Kurt, he'd be just as perfect as before if Blaine disappeared off the face of the earth this very moment.

He sliced over and over again, going over old scars, darkening them once more. He sighed, shutting his eyes. It hurt, yes, but God, it felt so good. The blood dripped onto the floorboards, staining where his rug would be replaced in a few moments.

Suddenly his phone buzzed on the bedside table. He frowned, looking down at it. The screen read, "New Message from: Kurt." He dropped the razor beside it, snatching up the device quickly.

"I hope my dad didn't scare you away," it read.

"Nah. He doesn't scare me," he replied. He waited for the screen to light up again anxiously.

"Good," a happy face followed. "I really did have a good time tonight."

"I'm glad." A few minutes passed before he got the next one.

"I really wanted to kiss you." It said. Blaine's mouth went dry, the razor long forgotten.

"Really?" He sent back.

"Yeah."

"Well, I hope I get the chance again."

"Me too."

"…and I was so mad! He had no right barging in on us like that," Kurt grumped, his lips ever still kiss-less.

"Well, you'll see him soon enough, won't you?" Rachel assured.

"I know," he sighed, closing his locker. "It just would've made everything perfect."

"How long have you two known each other?" She asked.

"About two weeks," he said. She frowned.

"And you already like him this much?" She wondered, slightly confused. He sighed.

"Look, Rachel, I know it's weird, and it goes against everything conventional about relationships and how they work in this country. But if you haven't noticed, our relationship isn't exactly conventional. I'm blind, and he's-"

"A juvenile delinquent?" She offered. He rolled his eyes.

"What I'm trying to say is, no matter how weird, or wrong this may be, it feels right. When I'm with him, I just…I don't know. He makes me feel so wonderful, better than anyone else has ever made me feel in my whole life. I like being with him, and I want to be around him all the time. I may not have known him for very long, but I think I'm falling for him," his words died in a whisper, looking toward the books clasped in his hands.

"Then I guess that's all that matters," she said quietly. She patted his shoulder. "I'll see you in Glee Club." She walked away.

He turned, counting his way down the hall to his classroom. He was mercilessly slammed into the lockers a few moments later, books clattering to the floor. He stayed crouched beside them, pain and heat radiating from his shoulder, listening to the retreating laughter of the boys that did it. One he recognized as David Karofsky.

"Watch where you're going, homo!"

Kurt took a deep breath, shutting his eyes, already feeling his shoulder starting to bruise. He peeled himself from the lockers and continued on with shaky legs, wondering when the day would come that someone would do something about that. Then maybe he wouldn't have to be so afraid all the time.

"What's that?" Blaine said, gently touching Kurt's shoulder. The pale boy's eyes grew, realizing his low-cut long-sleeved shirt was revealing his shoulder. He tugged it over, hiding the bruise. "What?"

Blaine shook his head, reaching across the table to move the shirt again. "Don't 'what' me. You know what. What is this?" The bruise was violent, purpling and fresh.

Please don't let his dad be like mine, please God. He panicked, the thought fleeting and horrified.

"I'm…I'm not a favorite at my school, okay?" He said softly. "I got pushed into a locker today, it's no big deal."

The mild relief the dark-haired boy felt was replaced with flooding rage.

"They push you into lockers hard enough to do that?" He said, gently thumbing around it. Kurt shrugged away from him, trying not to blush like an idiot.

"Like I said, it's no big deal," he mumbled. He couldn't see the torn look of hurt and fury on Blaine's features.

"It is to me," he said pointedly. Kurt looked at the table, toying with his cup nervously. "Do they do anything else?" No answer. Blaine softened and gently took his hand, not caring about any of the conservative assholes that might have a problem with it.

Kurt relaxed a little, comforted enough to speak.

"Name-calling, mostly. Slushies, tossed in a dumpster, chairs shoved out in front of me. The usual," he muttered.

"Names," Blaine demanded, the anger winning out.

"I can handle it," Kurt assured, shaking his head. "I don't want to talk about this, can we please change the subject?"

Blaine obliged, but only because those big blue eyes seemed to be the only thing on this planet he couldn't say no to.

"…and I'm so excited for Sectionals," he giggled. Blaine grinned at possibly the cutest sound he'd ever heard.

"Yeah, me too," he smiled. "You gonna hang out with me there or treat me like the competition leper?" Kurt smirked.

"Maybe not a leper," he said wryly. Blaine took his hand again.

"So, what do you want to do now?" He asked, voice quiet, but tone holding something more that sent a shiver down Kurt's spine.

"I…I uh…I don't know," he squeaked truthfully.

"You wanna go for a walk?" He offered.

"It's freezing," Kurt frowned. Blaine squeezed his hand assuredly.

"I'll keep you warm."

How could he say no to that?