14

Black Hole

Faster, faster, we have to go faster than this. He's hurt, he has to be. He could be dying right now and no one would ever know. Oh God, he's all alone. What if he's scared? What if he's crying out for me and I'm not there? God damn it, Finn-

"Drive faster!" He barked, desperation and tears in his voice.

"I'm going as fast as I can! It's not gonna help if we get pulled over while we're trying to get to him!" He said, weaving through traffic, staying in the left lane as much as possible. "I still think we should've called Burt-"

"He wouldn't have been there in time. He would've called the police and told them to go over there, and the same thing would happen that happens every time the cops go to Blaine's house, NOTHING!" He was so angry, so hurt, so scared. He just wanted to get to him, wanted to hold him in his arms and know personally that he was alright.

"Kurt," Finn said steadily, glancing at him, grasping his shoulder to ground him, to steady him. "It's not gonna help Blaine if you're all worked up like this either. Just take a few deep breaths. We're almost there."

Blaine could be dead by the time we get there, he thought, tears welling in his eyes. And then you'll be all alone in this black hell again.

"I should've told Dad when he was over yesterday. This wouldn't have happened," he breathed.

"C'mon, man, you can't blame yourself for this. Blaine could be alright; we don't know yet," he said gently. Kurt shook his head, unable to look at anything to distract him, being left to be plagued with his thoughts and echoes of Blaine on his hands and his lips.

"Just drive, Finn."

Alone.

Kurt.

Please help me.

Heart beat…I can feel it…slow. Too slow.

Because I'm cold?

Because I can't move?

Am I dying?

Probably.

Would've wanted this but then…then Kurt.

So cold…too cold.

Pain. Too much of-

"Uhn…" A quiet, nearly inaudible moan. Noise echoes in the distance.

Coming back to finish…

No. No, Kurt! I need Kurt, he doesn't know…

Blood. Sweat. Tears. All over me. Freezing. Can't shiver anymore. God it hurts…

"Mmn…" Another weak, whimpered sound.

"Blaine?"

Kurt?

"Blaine, talk to me, baby! Where are you? C'mon, Blaine make another noise!"

"Kur-Kuh- Guh…" More tears spilling from his eyes, still unable to move, the room before him swirling and hazed in a fog so dense he couldn't see.

"I'm coming, baby, I'm coming!"

Kurt felt his way into his room, hearing quiet, short, ragged gasps coming from across the room. "Blaine?" He clicked his tongue, feeling the room around him, feeling the bleak, freezing air that clung to your skin and sank through to your bones. He held his hands out, searching for him. "Blaine, talk to me if you can, baby."

Blaine tried to make another sound, the chain dug too deep in his throat for him to try. He tried as hard as he could to say his name, only managing a quiet whine. It was enough.

Kurt turned, reaching out for him, feeling around in the dark for him. He found the edge of a bed, slowly walking his hands up, feeling what little heat his body had left to radiate. He reached out, finding his shoulder. Blaine gasped.

"Oh, Blaine," Kurt sighed, searching for his face, the hand on his shoulder slipping to his back, finding lukewarm liquid when he did. "Oh my god!" He knew what this was, and it certainly wasn't water. Not when it was this thick, this clingy thing that seeped into the grooves of your fingertips and collected in sluggish drops before falling. Blood.

And Blaine was drenched in it. "Oh God, Blaine." He found his face, holding it in his palm, feeling swelling, bruises, cuts…and tears.

"K-Kur-" He started to cough, the chain Kurt had yet to find rattling softly.

"Shh, don't talk, don't talk. What's that noise? Huh?" He asked rhetorically, feeling down his cheek and his jaw, shushing him softly. He stifled a scream when he found the chain, which had dug itself into his flesh, biting, tearing, holding him like a dog too vicious for the regular world. "Oh my god!" Tears sprang to his eyes. Blaine whimpered softly, leaning into Kurt's warmth. "Shh, shh, it's okay, honey. It's okay, I'm gonna get you out of here, okay? Finn and I are gonna get you out and take you far away from here, okay?" He searched frantically for the end of it, trying to get it off. Blood quickly slicked his fingers, making the tears and sobs harder to keep back. Blaine whimpered every so often, crying.

"Finn!" Kurt yelled, voice wavering. "Finn, I need you!" He ran his fingers through his curls, finding them matted with blood in places, his scalp and his skin reeking of something else, something sickly that had long since dried. "Shh, shh, hush. It's alright. Shh…I've got you." He let his fingers trail down his back, gingerly, trying not to touch any open wounds, just trying to see what he was wearing, to see just how much pain he was in. A dry sob worked its way out when all he found was the fabric of his boxer briefs. "Baby…"

"What's- Oh my god," Finn stammered, stumbling into the freezing room. "What happened?" He rushed over to the wide open window, getting sprinkled with the few snow flurries that had started to fall outside as he shut it tight.

"I-I can't get this chain off," Kurt said, trying to keep his voice steady, trying to stay strong for the wounded boy he was holding.

"Shit," Finn breathed. "Here, watch out." He gently pushed Kurt back, swimming into Blaine's view much too quickly for his injured vision's liking. "It's alright, it's alright, Blaine. Just hang on a second," he said, his own tone betraying him. "Hang on and I'll get this off, okay?" He gave a small nod, looking so small as he started to shiver again. His face was beaten, both eyes black, nose probably broken, cuts on his cheeks. But the chain looked the worst. The flesh surrounding it was ragged, wounds set deep, as if he'd been drug by this thing. He looked for what was holding it there, searching through the blood and skin, his stomach turning but he had to ignore it. He had to. Blaine was dying and the only way to get him out of here was by getting this off of him.

"Okay, I need you to hold really still, okay?" He whispered, finally finding a small padlock linking the two chains together. He searched his jacket pockets, thanking God for Rachel when he found a bobby pin there leftover from when she'd worn it yesterday. "Just hold still. Puck showed me how to work through locks like this. You've met Puck, right?"

Kurt sat at the end of the bed, extending himself almost awkwardly to keep holding his hand, astounded by what his brother was doing. Calm, collected, talking to Blaine to get his mind on something beside the fact that he was chained to his own bed, almost frozen and bled to death and in his underwear in front of a near-stranger.

"Alright, just another second, lemme get this off, okay? Just hold really still…"

Painstakingly, Finn urged the chain from around his neck, wincing when he cried out or whimpered. "It's okay, it's okay. Just another second and you can go back with Kurt, alright? Just hang on."

The chain fell to the floor with a clatter, causing Kurt to jump. Blaine gasped, filling his deprived lungs with air, coughing and only making the pain inside and outside his throat that much worse.

Kurt was instantly with him again, carefully gathering him in his arms, holding him close. "Shh, it's alright, Blaine. It's okay. You're safe. You're gonna be alright."

"I'll get him some clothes," Finn said softly, going to the dresser.

"You don't ever have to come back here," Kurt assured, kissing his temple. Blaine used what little strength he had left to hold Kurt's hand, so weary, so close to fading into the darkness that had claimed him into sleep once before, when he thought he would never wake again. But he had. That's all that mattered. He was still fighting.

Finn came back, pressing a thick sweater that read OU in faded red letters and a pair of sweats into Kurt's hands.

"Thank you," he whispered. "Could you pack him a bag?" Finn nodded, leaving again.

"Blaine, will your parents be back soon?" Kurt asked, carefully lying him down and easing the sweatpants over his legs. He shook his head, shutting his eyes, tears streaking. Kurt reached up, holding his face. "What?" Another shake. "Okay. We'll leave soon, I promise."

He gingerly, cautiously pulled the sweater over his head, hating himself so much for every whimper and cry of pain that Blaine uttered.

"Shh, shh… I'm so sorry."

"Let's go," Finn said, doing another sweep of the room to make sure he didn't miss anything essential.

Getting Blaine into the SUV downstairs was difficult and gut-wrenching. Blaine was drenched in sweat by the time they got him lied down in the backseat, his head resting in Kurt's lap, shuddering with pain and the slow return of body heat. Kurt rubbed his shoulders, and the less tender areas of his arms, putting his hands inside the pullover just to offer extra warmth. At least he was shivering now.

"God, Blaine, what did he do to you?" He whispered. Blaine shut his eyes, whimpering.

"The fuck were you doing with that boy Friday night?" The father demanded, shoving his child against the wall, pressing his forearm into his neck.

"Nothing!"

"I saw you fucking kiss him, you lying, cocksucking queer!" Punch, throw, fall, kick, punch. "Now what were you doing with that faggot?" He bellowed.

Blaine looked up at him, his eye swelling already, blood in his mouth. "Don't you call him that." He stood slowly, still staring him down. "Don't you ever talk about him like that again, you miserable drunk mother fucker!"

That's what did it. That's what did this to him. That's what got him tied down and cut up. That's what got the bottle of beer poured over his head. That's what got the threat of having his dick cut off. That's what got him dragged from his room to the bathroom by the chain where he was burned with his mother's curling iron over and over again and then dunked into a bathtub full of ice water.

It was worth defending Kurt, though.

"Shh, shh…I'm here. I've got you," he said softly, pecking his cheek. "Finn, we need to take him to the hospital."

"Nn-no," Blaine croaked, shaking his head. "F-fi-ind me. He-he'll f-find m-m-me."

"Shh, shh, don't speak. Don't speak, it's okay. Hush, hush."

"Kurt, where am I goin'?" Finn asked, frantic.

"Home, just take us home."

Burt frowned when he entered the house, finding it empty. "Boys?" He called. No answer.

He checked for a note, for any indication as to where they were going, wondering whether he should call them or not.

Calm down, Burt. They just went out to grab some dinner. They're fine.

It didn't take long, maybe an hour before the front door opened, Burt hearing it from the kitchen as he made himself a sandwich.

"Boys, that you?" He called.

"Dad!" Kurt skidded to a halt in front of him, eyes wide and so scared, cheeks streaked with tears, hands and clothes covered in blood.

"Kurt, what-?"

"Dad, please, you have to help. You have to help him, he's hurt and he's so scared, please!" He stammered, sobbing.

"Shh, hey, what's goin' on? Help who?" He asked, holding his shoulders to steady him.

"Blaine!" He was nearly screaming, shaking all over. "Please, Dad, please help him. His dad beats him and he went home last night and did…god, I don't know what he did to him! He's hurt bad, but we c-cant take him to a hospital or he'll find him!"

"Shh, hey, hey, easy. Where is he?"

He gasped when he saw the boy lying on his couch. His face was battered, body shaking, blood gone from his face and his lips.

"Kurt," he said gently, calmly. "Go get in the car. We're gonna take him to the hospital, okay?"

"But, but his Dad'll find him!"

"Hey, hey, take it easy. No one's gonna hurt Blaine. I'll take care of it, okay? Just go wait in the car and I'll bring him out in a second, okay?"

He nodded, hurrying to Blaine, bending beside him. "My dad's gonna help you," he whispered, kissing his cheek. Blaine leaned into his touch, tears rolling. "Shh, it'll be alright soon." Another quick kiss before he left with Finn in tow.

Burt stepped over to him, taking the blanket off of the back of the couch and wrapping it around him. "Shh, it's alright, buddy. It's okay."

Blaine whimpered, pain radiating all over, conditioned fear of older men swelling in his heart.

"Hey, hey, easy. Just relax. I'm not gonna hurt you, okay? I'm gonna get you to the hospital, alright?"

"Pl-please-"

"Shh, he won't find you," he said gently, looking at him.

How hadn't he seen this before?

Until now, everything that surrounded Blaine was dark, destructive, and highly dangerous to the well being of his son, a son with a vulnerability that was impossible to hide and possibly so easy to take advantage of. He saw Blaine as a predator looking to take him away and toss him aside when he was finished, hurt and heartbroken. He saw a tornado of trouble bound and determined to hurt his son.

Not now. No.

His eyes were wide and filled with tears, looking wounded and so young. He was just a little boy. Just a scared, wounded little boy that needed help. And he hadn't seen it until it was too late. "Hey, it's alright," he soothed. "It's okay." He pulled him close hugging him gently. "I'm sorry, Blaine," he admitted.

The boy shook his head, squeezing back as tightly as his hands would allow, sniffling, welcoming Burt's embrace and wishing it would never end, wracking his brain to see if he could remember a time when his own parents had held him like this.

Never, he thought, shutting his eyes. They never did…

"Shh, it's alright. You're gonna be okay. Let's get you some help, alright?" He said, offering him a small smile, hoping it would make the pain a little more bearable.

He would probably never know how much it did.

Kurt held him all the way there, singing softly to him, rocking him, not letting him go until they got into the emergency room and he was put on a stretcher ready to be dragged away.

"It's okay," he smiled, staying strong, being brave. That's what he needed to be for him right now. "It's alright, Blaine. I love you."

He squeezed his hand, battered throat too sore to let him speak. Kurt quickly touched his cheek, feeling the words on his face.

He listened to the faceless, nameless doctor roll him away before he collapsed to his knees, sobbing.

"Whoa, Kurt, hey!" Burt exclaimed, bending to hold him.

"What did he do to him, Dad?" He whimpered, shaking, letting the emotions he'd been hiding from Blaine gush from the open wounds in his heart. "How could someone hurt him like that? Th-the blood- and he was so cold and…the chain, Dad, there was a chain wrapped around his neck!" He buried his face in his hands, crying so hard his chest hurt. Burt looked up at Finn, who nodded sadly, blood still staining his own fingertips.

"I had to get it off," he whispered, gesturing to them.

"Call your mom and tell her what's goin' on," he said softly. Finn nodded, stepping away, grateful to have something to do. He turned his attention back to his son. "Kurt, it's gonna be okay. I'm gonna call the cops and get this all sorted out. Blaine won't have to go back to that place. He can stay with us for all I care, but I will not make him go anywhere near that place ever again."

"Thank you!" He choked, sniffling, heartbroken. "Thank you so much, Dad."

Burt hugged him right there in the middle of the hospital floor, closing his eyes and praying that the boy his son loved so much would come out of this alright.