21

Flash

"No, it's not acceptable. NO! Mom, you could've told me- You lied to me about what he'd done to Blaine. You both told me so much about how awful he was, how rowdy and out of control when you let him BEAT HIM. HE'S YOUR SON, HE-! No, no, stop," Cooper shut his eyes, shaking with rage. "He hates me because of what you told me, because I trusted you and I didn't listen to my own baby brother. He loathes me, and he has every right to. I hope you're happy, and I hope you realize that you no longer have children because of this. No, no, I don't want to talk to him. No-"

"I don't know what lies that little prick has told you-"

"SHUT THE FUCK UP!" He bellowed into the receiver. "You hurt him, you tortured your own son. How fucking dare you try and tell me otherwise. I hope you fucking rot in there. I hope they put you in there for so long that by the time you get out you'll be too fucking weak to attempt to lay a hand on him. But mostly I hope you meet someone that'll do everything you did to your child EVERY FUCKING DAY!" He shut the cell phone before hurtling it across the room, watching the screen crack and shatter against the door as he did. He turned, fingers ripping through his hair, frustrated tears in his eyes, rage keeping him from seeing straight.

"Good thing the new iPhone's coming out next week."

He turned, eyes wide at the voice, unable to stop his smile and combined shock. "Blaine."

"Hey, Coop," he said quietly, trying to stay indifferent. "Who, um, who was that?"

"Dad," he sighed, looking haggard and much older than he really was. "Did you need something? Come here to beat my ass? I'll let you," he chuckled.

"No, I didn't come here to hit you," he affirmed, folding his lips. "I, um…I just wanted to talk to you. Well, let you talk. I didn't really let you speak before, so…If-if you want to…"

"You were right," he said, nodding painfully. "I never, ever gave you the benefit of the doubt, never listened to what you were saying. I always believed them because…because I don't know which was worse: thinking my little brother was a criminal or knowing my parents were lying to me and hurting you. I," he cleared his throat, blinking a few times. "I am so, so sorry, Blaine. I'm so sorry for everything. What I've said, what I've done. I'm so sorry." He stepped closer to him, lips pressed into a line. "You aren't some common criminal, Blaine. You're not out to get attention or-or trying to make Mom and Dad's lives miserable you're just…" He looked away briefly, eyes misted. "You're my little brother that I wasn't there for. I wasn't there for you and I don't deserve any sort of forgiveness from you but…I'm telling you this so you know how sorry I am, okay? God, I'm rambling," he chuckled, running a hand through his hair.

"Blaine, if you let me I'll try to make it up to you. I've seen what monsters they are and…and fuck I left you alone with them! I let Dad hurt you and Mom ignore you. I let this happen. I could've done something when you asked me to. I could've…I'm so sorry," he swallowed again. "I want to protect you. I want to be your brother and take care of you because…because, damn it, I should have a long time ago.

"I don't expect you to let me. I don't expect you to forgive me, but please, please hit me or something. I can't take this if you don't. I haven't been there, I haven't done anything right," he smiled at him through tears that were harder and harder to fight. "But I-I am so proud of you."

Blaine stared at him, tears in his own eyes. "Wh-what?"

"I'm proud of you," he repeated, smiling and clasping his shoulders. "I'm proud of you, Blaine."

Blaine looked away from him, lower lip trembling. He shook his head. "Nothin' to be proud of, Coop," he said gruffly. The elder Anderson finally let a tear fall, pulling him into a hug.

"Yes there is," he whispered, holding the back of his head. "There's so much to be proud of, Blaine." Blaine waited a beat before hugging him back, squeezing tight.

"Cooper-"

"I've got you, I've got you. I'm here. I'm here, shh…" He held him for some time, eyes shut, guilt absolutely overflowing. "I'm here now, and I'm not going anywhere this time." Tears seeped from his eyes and into his brother's shirt, clinging to him, to home, to the shred of family he had left.

"Just, just don't leave me again," he breathed, barely daring to speak.

"Hey," Cooper whispered. "I won't. I promise, I won't." He waited a moment before speaking again. "I want to run something by you, and-and you can take all the time you need but...at least think about it."

Kurt hated assemblies. They were loud, the band was deafening and the people. Yes, winter sports were great and obviously needed a pep rally for such an occasion, but did they have to release them in a class he didn't have with Blaine?

"Blaine!" he tried to yell over the crowd, listening hard for a familiar voice. "Blaine!"

"What's the matter, Hummel?" A voice hissed beside his ear. His blood went cold. "Can't find your butt-buddy?"

"L-leave me alone," he demanded. The voice chuckled low in his throat.

"See, normally your little glee freaks or your brother would be here to stop me. Too bad they can't see you through the Cheerios and, well…you can't see them, can you?"

"Karofsky, leave me alone," he said, panicking. He felt something dig into his side…a knife.

Oh god…

"Come with me without a fuss and I won't use this," he warned. He walked him out of the gym and toward the locker room, everyone too enamored with the show to pay attention to them. He could feel the knife handle digging painfully into his hip, the blade pointed at his belly, all hidden by his coat.

He gasped when he was shoved inside into the locker room, regaining his footing again before falling. The larger boy grabbed his collar, shoving him against the wall of a shower, arm holding his chest to keep him still.

Kurt whimpered when the knife pressed against his neck, fighting tears, straining his ears for some other sign of life.

"Please," he squeaked. "D-don't do this, David. Don't hurt me, please."

"Shh," his face was too close, body pressing against him. You don't even know what I'm going to do yet." A quiet sob jumped from Kurt's lips, shaking all over.

"B-Blaine's gonna-"

"You tell anyone about this and I'll take that pretty face of yours and make it so no one can recognize you. Blaine wouldn't come near you," he snarled. "You breathe a word of this to anyone and I will kill you. Understand?" He hissed, so close to him.

"Please," he gulped, tears leaking down his cheeks. He grunted when lips forced themselves on his own, a strong hand on his jaw opening his mouth, assaulting it with his tongue, teeth at his lips, cutting his skin and hurting him. Kurt whimpered, fighting to get away from him, only to be kissed harder and held down with more force. "Shut up or I swear I'll cut you."

Kurt stopped, wishing he would calm down enough to think, to process what was happening to him to fight back. Fear clouded his thoughts and paralyzed his body, keeping him absolutely still.

"Blaine…"

Rachel peered around the gym, frowning. "Where's Kurt?"

"Probably sucking face with-"

"I'm right here," Blaine acknowledged. Artie blushed an apology.

"Guys, seriously, where is he?" Mercedes said, trying to look around the drum line and wall of basketball players. "Did he have a class with any of you?" They shook their heads. Blaine stood, looking around as well, trying to find his well-dressed beauty in the sea of teens. He frowned, starting down toward the court.

"I'll go look for him," he nodded, his own worry piquing. He was probably in the library lost in the special version of Vogue he got delivered to his house and didn't pay much attention to the announcements.

"Hey, jail-bait!" He turned, smirking at Becky as she came toward him. "Guess what?"

"Make it quick, sugar, I'm in a hurry," he said. She pursed her lips.

"I just saw your little boy toy leave with David Karofsky. He givin' him somethin' you can't?" She challenged, her own unique way of teasing. He frowned.

"Karofksy?" He repeated, just to be sure.

"Yep," she nodded. "They were headed to the locker room."

"Thanks, Becky."

"BLAINE, BLAINE, STOP!" Bieste wrapped her arms around his waist, trying to haul him up and away from the bloodied boy on the floor while Will tried to grab his arms.

"YOU MOTHER FUCKER! YOU DISGUSTING MOTHER FUCKER! I'LL FUCKING KILL YOU, YOU SON OF A BITCH!" He screamed, lashing out at him with his boots. "DON'T YOU EVER TOUCH HIM AGAIN!"

"Porcelain? Hey, shh," Sue soothed, trying to get Kurt's attention and coax him out of the corner he'd plastered himself in. His shirt was in tatters on the floor, the buttons of his jeans busted, zipper broken as well. He trembled, tears streaming down his cheeks. "It's alright, it's alright now. Come here." She held his shoulders, turning him away from the cold stone and into her arms, absolutely enraged.

"It's okay, Kurt," Rachel assured, smoothing his hair. "Coach Sylvester's just trying to help, it's alright."

"Blaine," he shuddered, barely able to speak.

"Kurt!" Blaine wrenched out of the teachers' hands, rushing toward him and staggering to his knees to touch him. He held his cheek, thumbing the tears away. "Kurt, it's okay, it's alright. God, I'm so sorry I wasn't here sooner, I-"

Kurt wrapped his arms around him as tightly as he could, needing to feel his hands, his warmth, his touch, to hear his heartbeat and soft words that would make this go away. He felt bruises forming on his body already and tried so desperately to tune out the other yelling from teachers, defenses from David and Coach Sylvester's demand for expulsion and blood.

"Shh, it's okay, it's okay. I've got you. Shh…" He soothed, his own rage cooling and transforming to agony. He saw the handprints coming into focus on his arms, scratches on his back and his shoulders, a hickey coloring on his neck. "God, Kurt."

"Don't let me go. Please, don't let go," he trembled, the darkness he was trapped in felt cold and unforgiving, only gaining warmth from Blaine's words and body. If that were gone he'd become lost in it, lost for who knows how long.

"I've got you. I won't let you go." He was shaking so hard, feeling small and fragile like Blaine had never felt. Even in his vulnerable moments Kurt was never this…this afraid. More yelling and confusion, half a dozen conversations happening at once while Blaine tried to engulf him, keep him shielded from all the pain and worry as he'd done for him months ago.

"I called the police, there's an ambulance on the way," he heard Emma say.

"Emma, what's wrong?" Will asked, seeing something Kurt couldn't.

"Uh, his...Mr. Hummel's on his way."

A/N: More soon!