Sorry for the delay with this chapter - a lot happening at the moment. Thank you so much to all you wonderful people who reviewed, followed or favourited - it means a lot. I hope you like this chapter because it took quite a while to write.
Kurt had always hated school. Even kindergarten had been horrible, because all of the boys in his class teased him for his high-pitched voice, and shouted that he sounded like a girl. He perhaps wouldn't have minded had he gotten on well with the girls, but they did not seem to want to know or play with him either, simply because he was a boy, and boys were apparently 'icky'. So he just spent his time sitting on the beanie bags in the corner of the room arranging tea parties with the grubby toys provided, or singing songs that his Mommy sang to him at home. Kurt thought that his Mommy was a beautiful singer and that her voice sounded so pretty when singing him a lullaby each night. She never looked happier than when she was singing, and when he asked, she had even taught him some of the easier melodies like 'Humpty Dumpty' or 'Oh When The Saints'. Yet when he sat in the corner, singing happily to himself at kindergarten, the other kids just laughed at him again. He couldn't really win. Eventually, the only activity he found that did not attract attention to himself, was drawing. Kurt could find a corner of the room or playground to sit in and absorb himself in a drawing extremely quickly, and would only return from his own little world, when the teacher called "Story time".
His Mommy and Daddy had seemed upset when his teacher, Miss Cartwright came round to his house one night to say that she felt he wasn't being very… what was the word… sociaby? Miss Cartwright had said that she was worried he was ignoring the other kids in his class, but Kurt had just frowned because that was not the case, and he was almost certain she knew it. The other kids were mean to him and didn't want him to play their games; it was not a case of him ignoring them. Yet Kurt was sure he would never forget the look of worry, almost disappointment on his daddy's face when Miss Cartwright left. When Kurt asked him anxiously, Burt had quickly replied that he wasn't disappointed, but Kurt still had been unable to shake the bad feeling from him tummy. That night, as he had been getting ready for bed, he had told his Mommy the truth, and asked if he was doing something wrong. She had shaken her head firmly and said softly, kissing him on the forehead, that he was special… that the other kids were jealous of him, and didn't understand how special he was and would be.
Yet when he went to school, still nothing changed. He was still left out of games, and laughed at, only it was much worse. The big kids in the higher grades would sometimes push him over so hard that he fell over and scraped his knee; they would take the lunch money that his Daddy gave him to buy sweets, and generally, made him hate going to school. He couldn't tell his Mommy and Daddy what was going on, because he didn't want to see the same looks of sadness on their faces as he witnessed that night Miss Cartwright visited them. So today, he was sitting in a new classroom, beginning his second year at school, and not looking forward to it at all. His new teacher, Mrs Mason, seemed nice enough, but his class still laughed at him whenever he spoke, calling him a 'girl', and he had been seated on a table entirely made up of girls, who all ignored him. Still, the task that they had been set that morning was fun. Mrs Mason had asked them to write about themselves, their family and their hobbies, so that she could get to know that class, and Kurt found that easy enough. He finished in plenty of time and was just putting the perfecting touches to the drawing of himself, his mommy and his daddy when the bell for lunchtime rang.
Kurt's relatively good mood faded as he realised that he would have to go outside to the playground where some of the big kids would undoubtedly laugh at him again. He seemed to be the favourite target for being bullied in such a small school and Kurt couldn't help but wonder again, miserably, why people hated him. What had he done wrong? He watched the rest of the class scramble out of the door, all wanting to be the first to get outside, but Kurt chose to walk more slowly behind them. The less time spent outside, the better.
Once outside, Kurt walked to his usual spot in the playground – the corner, where he slid down the wall, and took out the small notebook which his Mommy had bought him for drawing in. It was brand new, and had been bought specially as a present to celebrate him starting his second year, and Kurt decided that his first drawing would be for his Mommy. He would show it her when she picked him up from school, so he had to make it perfect. Soon, he had drawn several people, all of whom were wearing different clothes, because that was what interested him most – their outfits had to be perfect. His smile however did not last when he felt the notebook being ripped from his hands and he looked up in terror to see the tall form of Tanner Westwood, the school bully, now in the top class, smiling nastily at him.
"Look," He sneered to his friends, who had all caught him up and were jeering at Kurt as he scrambled up from the floor, though he was still only up to Tanner's forearm. "Girly Kurtie's back!" His gang laughed at the bad joke, and watched as Tanner looked down at Kurt's notebook. "And look – he's drawn more girls in stupid dresses."
"Give it back." Kurt mumbled quietly, but he couldn't even look Tanner in the eyes because he was so scared. Why did he always have to be scared?
"What did you say to me, freak?" Tanner asked, suddenly angry at Kurt for arguing back.
Kurt cowered in the older boy's shadow, and it took him several attempts to find his voice. "Give me my book back… p-please." He whispered again.
Tanner's face suddenly contorted into a laugh, his voice breaking, portraying his early teenage years. "No," he sneered, suddenly chucking the precious book to one of his gang, who caught it easily and held it up above his head so that Kurt could not reach it. "You'll have to jump for it first."
Kurt looked at them pleadingly for a moment before realising they weren't going to give in. He thought about leaving it, but then his Mommy would wonder where his book had gone, and he would have to tell her that the bullies took it, because he was hopeless at lying. What was more, his mommy and daddy had always taught him to never lie or be dishonest. Looking up into Tanner's laughing face, Kurt's chin began to tremble and he felt himself begin to cry.
"P-Please g-g-give me m-my book back." He begged them softly.
"Aww," Tanner sneered nastily, apparently happy that Kurt was crying. "Little, baby, girly Kurtie's crying. What do you think – should we give him his book back?" he asked, grinning at his gang.
"No." The boy who was holding the book up replied, though Kurt didn't know his name.
"Right answer, Johnny." Tanner nodded, before turning back to Kurt, who couldn't help but cry silently, again wondering why people bullied him like this. "Jump for the book, fag."
Kurt frowned briefly, wondering what 'fag' meant. He had never heard that word before, but he decided in the midst of his tears that it could only be another word for 'girl', because that was always what he was called. Sniffling, realising that the older boys weren't going to relent, embarrassedly, he began to jump for the book that Johnny was holding. But he was just too small to reach it, and after a few moments, Johnny chucked the book to another boy in the gang, who also held it above his head, and the game continued. Kurt grew more and more upset as his book was thrown carelessly to each person in the gang, and he was just about to give up when the book was thrown to Johnny again, and he clumsily missed catching it, because he was laughing so hard. All of them turned their heads to see where the book had landed and were just in time to see it being picked up with smaller, more careful fingers.
A tiny, hazel-eyed boy with sleekly gelled dark hair, clearly younger than Tanner's lot, and Kurt himself, lifted the book gently into his arms, and stared at them all. Kurt momentarily stopped the worst of his crying and for a second thought that he recognised the younger boy, before he realised that he couldn't know him. He was probably in the new first grade class, and it was only his first day of school. Kurt was filled with hope for a small minute, as he considered that maybe this boy would be kind and give him his book back, before he realised that no one in the school was kind enough to do that, and even if they were, they wouldn't go against Tanner Westwood. He quietly began to cry again, but for the moment, he was ignored as Tanner and the rest of his gang turned to glare at the little, dark-haired boy.
"Give me the book, squirt!" Tanner yelled to the kid, as if it was obvious. The small boy stared silently, almost critically, at Tanner for a moment before his eyes came to rest on Kurt who looked away, upset and ashamed of his crying. He suddenly smiled, but it wasn't a jeer like the bullies provided or a sneer like the rest of Kurt's classmates. The smile was kind and comforting, and for some reason made Kurt look back towards him, only to realise the boy's eyes were still on him.
"Is this yours?" the younger boy asked softly, his hazel eyes glittering kindly, and for some reason, he looked much older than a first grader.
Tanner looked furious, whilst the rest of his gang seemed to be in shock. No one in the school playground disobeyed Tanner Westwood. No one. Kurt looked fearfully at Tanner for a moment, just as surprised, but nodded silently. To everyone's shock, the dapper-looking boy held the book out to Kurt, though he didn't move from where he was standing, obviously sensing that if he moved towards them, then Tanner would inevitably grab him and the book.
"Did you not hear what I said, you little squirt?" Tanner demanded angrily. "I rule this school, so you give the book to me."
The boy turned his striking hazel eyes on Tanner, "But it's not yours." He replied quietly, but respectfully.
"Give me the book!" Tanner spat. "Unless you want me to get the rest of this school to treat you like they treat girly Kurtie here." He said angrily, nodding at Kurt, who was desperately wiping at his tears and runny nose with the back of his hand.
The dark-haired little boy took one look at Kurt, before turning back to Tanner and answering bravely in a steadfast little voice, "No."
Tanner fumed and started towards the boy who was less than half his height when Johnny grabbed him and nodded to a spot behind Kurt's saviour. "Watch out – the teacher's coming."
Kurt looked up and felt relieved. Sure enough, one of the teacher's from the upper grades was circulating the playground, looking for any trouble, and Tanner wouldn't dare do anything else with a teacher around. Tanner growled and glared back at him, "Look – you've found yourself a faggy best friend, Kurtsie." He mocked, before passing the dark-haired boy and snapping:
"Wrong choice, worm. You're going to regret that."
With that, Tanner and his gang stalked away, just in time as the teacher reached that part of the playground, and passed them silently. Kurt stood awkwardly a few steps away from the other boy, more than a little surprised that someone had stood up to Tanner Westwood, and especially, stood up for him. With the exception of his mommy and daddy, no one had ever stood up for him before. So Kurt stood there silently, looking at the ground, waiting for the catch. Was the younger boy now going to laugh and run off with the book himself now? However, when he finally looked up, the boy was walking towards him, the book outstretched. Once the other kid reached him, Kurt stared cautiously at the book for a second as it was held out, before taking it back, breathing a sigh of relief as he finally felt it back in his hands.
"Th-thank you." Kurt said shyly, using one hand to wipe away his tears, and the other to wrap securely around his drawing book.
"You're welcome." The other boy replied softly, and Kurt looked up into his saviour's face in time to see a small, kind smile there. "Are you okay?"
Kurt sniffed, but was surprised to find that he suddenly felt much, much better. He was even able to form a small, albeit hesitant smile in return. "Y-yes, thank you."
The dark-haired boy reached into his pocket, pulled out a clean, perfectly folded tissue and handed it to Kurt, who took it slowly, wondering why someone was being so nice to him. He used it carefully to wipe the rest of his tears before looking back at the other boy, a little brighter.
The younger boy grinned, "Now you look okay."
Kurt couldn't help but smile in return. The other boy suddenly held out a hand in a way that Kurt had only seen his mommy and daddy do when meeting someone new. "My name's Blaine."
Kurt smiled softly as he shook the other boy's hand, just as his daddy had taught him to do. "Kurt." He answered politely.
"It's my first day," Blaine announced to him brightly, sliding down the wall and Kurt did the same, this time making sure the book was tucked firmly into his arms. "I'm in first year. What grade are you in?"
"It's my second year." Kurt said, a little reservedly, still in shock that someone was actually talking to him.
"So you're..." Blaine worked out, and Kurt could see him counting on his fingers, just as he himself did, which made him smile. "Six?"
Kurt just nodded in response. "I'm five." Blaine continued, still smiling infectiously. They were silent for a moment before the younger boy asked softly, "Do they always bully you?"
Kurt looked down sadly and nodded, nervously fingering the edges of his drawing book. He raised his head to see Blaine frowning, as if the thought made him sad as well. "But… why?" he asked, apparently unable to see the other kid's hate for Kurt. Kurt wondered when this boy would begin to call him names too.
"Because I have a girly voice." He resigned miserably.
Blaine's frown turned into a soft smile, and to Kurt's surprise, he felt Blaine slip his hand into his own. "You have a nice voice." He complemented bashfully.
Kurt blushed but couldn't help but smile. There was just something about this new boy that made him smile, "Thank you."
"Don't listen to them, Kurt," Blaine said softly, squeezing his hand encouragingly. "You're really nice."
Kurt blushed again, thinking that he had only known Blaine for a few minutes so how could the other boy know that he was nice, but Kurt noticed that suddenly, he felt much happier. The second bell rang, indicating that they could all come in and get their lunch now, but Kurt remained where he was. His lunch money had been taken from him by Tanner and his gang as soon as his mommy had kissed him goodbye at the school gates that morning. As everyone began charging towards the open entrance to the canteen, Blaine looked around confusedly, obviously not yet used to the school's routine.
"What's going on?" he asked Kurt, for the first time seeming a little vulnerable, and Kurt noticed his slightly scared expression as he shrank back to avoid all of the rampaging feet.
"It's lunchtime," Kurt explained patiently. "So everyone's going inside to eat."
"Oh," Blaine replied, his bright expression returning instantly, however it dampened as he noticed Kurt was making no attempt to move. "Are you not having any lunch?" he asked.
Kurt looked down at the floor and shook his head.
"Are you not hungry?" Blaine asked, sympathetically.
As if on cue, Kurt's tummy rumbled and he realised just how hungry he was, but knew he would have to wait until he went home. "I… I don't have any lunch money." He mumbled sadly.
Blaine frowned for a brief second before tugging on their interlinked hands to get Kurt to stand up with him. Kurt did just that and stared at this strange, but wonderful boy in bewilderment.
"That's okay, Kurt." He said brightly, his eyes twinkling with kindness. "You can have some of mine. It's a homemade lunch – I made it myself." He smiled proudly.
Kurt wondered for a moment why Blaine had made it when everyone else who had packed lunches had either their mommies or daddies make it, before he realised what Blaine was saying. The other boy had already been so kind to him, and he didn't want Tanner to bully Blaine because of him. He was too nice for that.
"No, it's okay." Kurt declined, feeling unbelievably sad as he removed his hand from Blaine's.
As he did so, Blaine's face fell, his eyes also looking sad, like that of a kicked puppy, "Do you not want to be friends, Kurt?" he asked vulnerably.
Kurt's head snapped up and he was unable to stop himself from saying quickly, "I do," before he realised what he said. "It… it's just… you'll… you'll be bullied if you're my friend. No one… no one likes me." He mumbled.
"But I like you." Blaine said timidly. "I… I don't mind the bullies. I'd rather be your friend."
Kurt looked up hesitantly at Blaine and they both smiled at each other.
"Please have some of my lunch, Kurt." Blaine pleaded gently. "My mommy used to say that everybody has to eat something." He held out his hand and waited patiently for Kurt to decide.
Kurt thought about it for a moment. If he made friends with Blaine then Tanner would bully him as well… but the thought of finally having a friend… especially one as nice as Blaine was so appealing. He watched as that same bright, kind smile slid across the other boy's face, and Kurt decided that he would trust him. Blaine didn't seem like the kind of person to trick him or be nasty to him like the other kids. It was a surprise that someone wanted to befriend him, but a welcome one. Slowly, ever so slowly, Kurt lifted up his hand and slipped his fingers through Blaine's. Blaine grinned infectiously again, and began to run energetically across the playground towards the dining room door, pulling Kurt along in his wake. As lunchtime progressed, and the two boys sat side by side in a hidden away part of the school, away from the jeers of bullies in the canteen, eating the peanut butter and jelly sandwiches Blaine had made, they talked animatedly. Blaine was kind and attentive as Kurt spoke, and gradually, Kurt became more confident in what he said; no one, except his parents, had ever been that nice to him before. Kurt realised why he vaguely recognised Blaine, as he mentioned he lived at the address right next to him; the house where Kurt knew the scary Mr Anderson lived. Kurt didn't realise Blaine lived there, and Blaine hadn't realised Kurt lived next door either, because apparently he wasn't allowed outside much without his daddy's permission. Shyly, Kurt showed Blaine his drawing in the notebook, at which Blaine enthusiastically complemented him on the outfits of the figures and said that he was really good at drawing. At the end of the lunch period, they agreed to see each other after school, and for the first time in his life, Kurt couldn't remember being so happy.
"Dude!" a loud, sharp shout brought Kurt back to his senses, as his eyes flew open in response. He had only closed them for a moment, allowing himself to drift off into happy memories so that he did not have to think about what he was about to face. Kurt saw the road moving past him quickly; an indication that they were still on their way to the hospital. However, apparently Finn, who had been silent ever since approaching him in the corridor on the way back from Figgins' office, grumbling that Carole had called him, telling him to take Kurt to the hospital immediately, suddenly had something to say. "Dude, did you not hear me?"
Kurt sighed, and turned his attention to Finn, who was half focusing on the road ahead, half casting worried glances at his almost-stepbrother in the passenger seat. "What? Sorry, Finn?" Kurt asked, having no idea what the larger boy had just said. He had been too caught up in amazing memories. Ideally, he had not wanted to be disturbed, because that one memory was very dear to him. That was the moment when everything began; that day had been when an unspoken vow had been forged between he and Blaine: best friends forever. And Kurt intended to keep that vow.
"Dude, are you okay?" Finn questioned, shifting uncomfortably in his seat as he cast another worried glance at Kurt before turning a sharp bend in the road. "You look kind of… spaced out. You're not about to… I don't know… faint or anything are you?"
Kurt wondered if he was actually going to faint. He did feel a little lightheaded, but he put that down to the fact that he had just been told his estranged best friend had been found alive and well after so many years of hearing nothing. He decided that he would be fine. The last thing Blaine or his dad needed right now was him needing hospital treatment as well. "Yeah… I mean… no, I'm not going to faint," Kurt replied adamantly, his voice quiet and still slightly hoarse from the onslaught of tears brought on by the phone conversation with his dad. "I'm fine. Just… just thinking, that's all."
"So who is this guy we have to see in the hospital. Is it really so urgent that we have to miss glee practice?" Finn asked, apparently a little annoyed that he hadn't been given the full details of the situation. Kurt realised that Carole apparently hadn't told her son much, apparently leaving it open to Kurt and Burt as to how much father and son would tell. He felt a twinge of annoyance at Finn as the boy questioned the urgency of the matter. Anything that was to do with Blaine was urgent in his mind.
"Yes," he snapped coolly. "It is urgent." He turned away to stare out of the window, though he was not paying the slightest attention to the scenery outside. "And this guy, as you call him, is… was my best friend."
Finn frowned, apparently confused, "Your best friend? But, dude," he said uncomfortably. "I… I thought your best friend is Mercedes… or… I don't know… Tina. Rachel says you're pretty close as well…"
Kurt closed his eyes tiredly. The last thing he wanted to hear about right now was Rachel Berry or that girl's thoughts on who her close, personal friends were. He thought of kind, sweet Blaine and then arrogant, self-centred Rachel Berry and cringed. "I knew Blaine before I went to high school… before I even knew Mercedes, or glee club, or you, or… anyone at McKinley."
"So what happened – did he go to a different high school or something?" Finn asked, clearly not too bothered about the answer, and obviously not realising the sensitivity of the matter.
"No," Kurt growled, feeling prickled at the careless, flippant way his almost-stepbrother was talking about Blaine. He thought about Blaine suffering in the hospital and wanted to cry all over again. "His abusive dad took him away from Lima when he was ten and I haven't heard from him since… until now." He added in a slightly softer tone.
Finn's eyes widened in shock as Kurt uttered the words 'abusive dad', and swallowed awkwardly. "Oh," he said, apparently unable to articulate a sensitive sentence beyond that. "So… so why's he in the hospital?"
It was Kurt's turn to swallow. He really didn't want to think about it. He did not even want to voice the words his dad had spoken on the phone, because that would just make the situation more real. "Because he was attacked…" he said unsteadily, tears welling quickly to his eyes. "…r-raped."
Finn's eyes widened even further and he started gawping at the road in front of him, turning to glance in shock at Kurt during frequent intervals. His hands shifted on the steering wheel, illustrating the larger boy's discomfort, and it was a good minute or so before Finn hesitantly voiced what he was thinking, "But," he spoke in confusion. "I… I thought… I thought that was something guys… you know… only did to… girls."
Finn and his lack of sex education was the last thing Kurt wanted to reply to at that moment. Had he not just been sitting in a lesson with Finn, who thought that a person could catch STDs from a cucumber, then Kurt may have suspected the jock was trying to take the mickey. Yet he knew that the other boy was not trying to be deliberately ignorant so Kurt reigned in the urge to shout and scream at Finn because he knew he was just emotional over hearing about Blaine's attack. Instead he planted his face in his hands so that his almost-stepbrother could not see the tears in his eyes and answered in a deadened voice, through gritted teeth:
"No, Finn… guys can be r-… guys do that to guys as well."
Apparently noticing the muffled quality to Kurt's voice, Finn shifted his gaze for a moment onto Kurt and saw the hand the smaller boy had carefully constructed over his eyes. Again, feeling distinctly uncomfortable with being stuck in the car with an emotional Kurt, he swallowed and placed his eyes back on the road.
"Look…" he muttered awkwardly after a brief pause. "Kurt… man, I didn't mean to… upset you or anything, you know. I just… if we're missing glee club, I wanted to know why."
Kurt did not reply for a moment, and so for several seconds the two boys sat in awkward silence until he did. "It's okay." he said, hating how choked up his voice sounded, especially since he had vowed to stay strong for Blaine's sake.
"And… um… sorry about… about your friend." Finn continued, partly in genuine concern, and partly because he felt the need to fill in the deadly silence that would otherwise dominate the journey.
Kurt did not have the energy to answer verbally this time, so he just nodded his thanks. More silence fell upon them before Finn spoke again:
"Why's he in the hospital in Lima if he left a long time ago?"
Kurt really wished he knew the answer to that question, and despite the worry that seized his entire body up as he thought of what his dad had described to him about Blaine's state on the phone, he selfishly could not help but wish Blaine had been returning to see him. "I… I don't know," Kurt eventually responded. "I really don't know… but I'm glad he's home."
Burt did not know how long he sat there, rocking the broken, sobbing boy in his arms; whispering gentle words of comfort every so often on top of the constant mantra 'I've got you. You're home. You're safe'. He could only estimate it was a fairly long time, because the weeping hushed every so often, only for a few seconds before it started up with even more strength than before. Burt's heart felt as if it was literally breaking as he watched the once together, confident Blaine fall apart completely. His instinct told him that this was not just a reaction to the attack but also to the pent up fear, anger and sheer desperation this boy must have been feeling for all these years. He did not even want to think about what Jonathan had done to consequent Blaine being homeless and starving for months on end, and especially didn't want to consider just how the boy had received many of the bruises and cuts that were slowly revealed on his body as Burt held him. Some of the injuries were undoubtedly caused by the attack but others looked older – more warn, but not quite healed, like the slight scar by Blaine's right eye, where he had been hurt all those years ago. Had the wound been left to heal properly then it would not have scarred, yet because of Jonathan's abuse that day, and probably, over the years, it was permanent. Burt listened to the poor boy cry; it was not a tantrum over something trivial – the sobs being produced reflected fear, desperation and pure suffering, and they were all pouring out now, probably after years of holding them in.
The male nurse hovered in the corner of the room nervously, and after a while, the female nurse returned with a tall, middle-aged man wearing the signature white coat, whom he assumed was Doctor Carlton. Burt exchanged one look with the doctor, and was thankful that the man understood his silent plea, as he silently nodded and led his two subordinates from the room. Time passed and still Blaine kept sobbing, but Burt made no attempt to stop him, understanding that the boy releasing all of his emotions like this was essential as a first step to his recuperation. He had told a crying Kurt on many occasions that it was better out than in. Gradually, Blaine's heart-wrenching cries were reduced to sniffles, hiccups and desperate attempts to breathe at a normal rhythm. Burt slowly slackened his grip on the boy, but continued to keep a steadying hand on his back; otherwise he was convinced that in Blaine's weakened state, the teenager would fall heavily back onto the mattress. Blaine, who had fallen into Burt's arms, desperately seeking comfort, seemed to become more aware of himself and who he was with; slowly he disengaged himself from the adult and bowed his head, unable to meet Burt's eye. Burt could not bear the expression of shame flitting across the boy's features; Blaine had every right to cry, and no reason at all to be ashamed. The mechanic tried to think of something which might lighten the sudden tension:
"A little worse for wear…" Burt said softly, forcing a small smile of encouragement onto his face. "But at least I know I came all the way to the hospital for the right person." He smiled, but instantly regretted it; feeling guilty when Blaine, who was barely keeping it together, crumbled and began to cry quietly again. Sighing at his own stupidity, Burt folded the boy once more into his arms, and was about to murmur more words of comfort when Blaine finally cried:
"I'm s-sorry… I'm s-s-so, so, s-s-sorry."
Burt frowned, releasing Blaine to look down into the boy's crumpled face, "Bud, what could you possibly be sorry for?"
Blaine seemed to struggle to speak for a moment before he let out on a stinted, uneven breath in between cries, "F-For b-b-burdening you. F-For making you c-come all the w-w-way here… f-for me."
Burt hated the degrading way Blaine talked about himself. "Don't you be silly," he chastised, suddenly much louder and with such firmness, it almost seemed to make Blaine glance upwards to meet his eye. Almost. "Don't be sorry for that. Don't ever be sorry for that. You matter, Blaine. You matter. I am incredibly glad you asked to see me and my son… and believe me when I say, I am so, so glad to see you again… even in these circumstances."
Blaine let out another spasmodic sob, and bent his head even lower, "Y-Y-You won't th-think that when… when y-y-you know w-what I am."
Burt frowned, trying to work out what on earth the boy could be talking about. He was certain that there was not anything that this boy could do to make him hate him, or turn his back on him. That was Jonathan's forte. "What? What do you mean?" he asked the boy gently.
"I-I'm a-a-a bad p-person." Blaine sobbed helplessly, closing his eyes, as if attempting to shut himself off from the world, because that was the only way to relieve himself of the pain, both physically and internally. Burt's frown deepened as he remembered the sweet, endearing little boy who used to laugh and sing along with Kurt whilst watching Disney movies, and was quite convinced that even in six years, that boy could not change into a bad person. There was too much good in him.
"I doubt that," Burt replied adamantly. "You're a good kid, Blaine. You're a really good person."
Blaine let out another shaky breath and struggled to suck in another one, apparently not agreeing with Burt's words. "I-I am a bad p-person."
"Says who?" Burt demanded, not for a moment believing that Blaine could do anything majorly wrong. He had his own suspicions over who could have drilled the idea of Blaine being a bad person into the boy's head, and that certain someone's name began with the letter 'J'. How brutally had Blaine's self-confidence been battered over the years by his father, and now, as a result of the rape?
Blaine did not respond to Burt's question; instead he cried harder than ever, "P-P-Please d-don't send me b-back. Don't… don't s-s-send me b-back."
Burt quelled the majority of the anger he was feeling towards Jonathan at that moment, from showing on his face, as Blaine's pleas confirmed his suspicions. Jonathan had done something pretty damn awful this time and Blaine had clearly run away… only to be harmed in the worst possible way when he eventually reached Lima. One thing was for sure, Burt thought determinedly – that monstrous excuse for a father was not getting his son back this time. Blaine would stay with him and Kurt – the people who loved him. "Never," Burt promised the broken boy. "You're never going back, I promise. You're home… you're safe… we'll never send you back to that monster."
"Y-Y-You won't th-think that when… when y-y-you know w-what I am." Blaine repeated again, doing his utter best to hide himself from Burt's scrutiny.
"What could you possibly be or have done that is so awful?" Burt demanded softly.
There was an interval between speech, during which Blaine continued to cry quietly, whilst gathering the courage to admit his supposed fault. What he said was not what Burt had been expecting… not that he had been expecting much:
"I-I'm g-gay."
It took a few moments for Burt to process Blaine's insinuation that he thought being gay would be a problem to Burt. The mechanic could not in any way see how the boy's sexuality made him a bad person, or different in Burt's eyes, particularly since he had always suspected, even during their childhood, that both Kurt and Blaine were gay. Burt was further disturbed by the way that Blaine's face scrunched up after this confession, and the boy leaned away slightly as if waiting to be hit or expecting a yell of disgust. Burt shook his head in shock and gently squeezed the boy's shoulder.
"I know." He answered softly. Burt watched as Blaine's eyes flew open in shock and for the first time since acknowledging Burt's arrival, he met the adult's eyes, his tears still running steadily down his cheeks. "I know. Kid, you and Kurt used to play dress-ups, literally in dresses and heels… you used to marry and divorce your power rangers who knows how many times a day, and have tea parties with them… I know you're gay. How on earth does that make you a bad person?"
Blaine's crying had eased off slightly now, but his cheeks were still tear-soaked, and he still looked incredibly feverish as he tried to articulate an answer to Burt's question. The poor kid looked as sick a dog and he wished there was something more he could do to help. He could only feel relatively glad he had eased Blaine's distress, even if only for a moment.
"Let me put it another way," Burt suggested, taking advantage of the current quiet to replace the needle in Blaine's hand, back into its correct place so that the saline drip would function to the best of its ability and ensure Blaine was hydrated. "Why would I think being gay is something to despise, when Kurt, who I love very much, is gay?" As he talked about Kurt, he saw Blaine's eyes widen; apparently the boy had not suspected this about his childhood friend. But then again, they hadn't seen each other in six years. "I love Kurt – when he first told me, I wasn't… over the moon about it, but he can't change how he feels… it's who he is and I love him for who he is. It would be a bit hypocritical of me to despise you for having the same sexuality, don't you think?" he asked Blaine, who didn't reply but still seemed to be affected by his words. Instead the boy sniffed and appeared to focus on getting his uneven, spasmodic breathing back to normal. Burt allowed him a few seconds before adding gently; though he already knew the answer Blaine would inevitably give:
"Unless you think Kurt's a bad person for being gay?"
Blaine's eyes shot up to meet his as he said with much more assuredness than he had ever had when speaking of himself, "No! No, h-he's… he's… perfect." He struggled out, before ducking his head again, sniffing quietly. Burt could not help but smile at Blaine's reaction. He rather agreed with the boy's words, and they certainly confirmed his thoughts that there was still an ever-strong bond between Kurt and Blaine, even after such a long time apart. "Is Kurt okay?"
Burt had to shake himself twice – once out of his reverie and again to check that he had heard Blaine correctly. The boy had spoken in such a quiet, timid little voice that his words, had Burt not been listening attentively, would have been unintelligible; the difference between the cautious, frightened-of-his-own-shadow Blaine that sat before him and the bright, bouncy boy of six years previously was colossal. On the other hand, here was Blaine, just as sweet and considerate over Kurt's wellbeing as before, even if he was the one who so desperately needed help at the present time. Burt released a small breathy laugh, "You're the one in the hospital, and yet you're asking if Kurt is okay?"
Blaine rather looked as if he wanted to be swallowed up by the floor, and Burt caught on that his replies had to be as gently but quick as possible, otherwise he may lose the present, but potentially tenuous connection with this boy. Gently he squeezed Blaine's shoulder and was glad that the teenager did not flinch, "He's… he is okay." Burt confirmed honestly, wishing he could say his son was more than 'okay', yet judging from the way Kurt had broken down over the phone earlier, he knew his baby boy was going to be distressed when he saw Blaine in this state. "He has trouble at school but then… he always has…"
To Burt's horror, fat tears started initiating their way down Blaine's cheeks again, and the familiar shaking of his shoulder's told the mechanic that the boy was beginning to get upset once more. This time however, he had no idea what he had said or done. Burt analysed his words carefully, but was unable to find the source of Blaine's sudden distress.
"Oh, bud." He murmured, heartbroken, drawing the shattered, damaged boy into his arms again. That Blaine accepted this comfort and leaned into this fatherly hug was only a momentary relief, because shortly afterwards, Blaine allowed his barriers to break down again, sobbing into Burt's overalls. "It's okay – you cry… you have a good cry. No one's going to judge you here-"
"I'm s-s-sorry," Blaine suddenly cried, his voice muffled as he spoke into Burt's shoulder. "I'm s-so s-s-sorry. I p-promised him that I'd p-protect him… but I left him… I h-h-hurt him."
"What?" Burt murmured incredulously. "Don't be ridiculous, buddy. You didn't hurt him. He doesn't blame you for having to leave – none of us do. It wasn't your fault, do you hear me?" Blaine continued to cry, so Burt wasn't actually sure the boy had heard him, but he continued anyway. "And as for promising to protect him… buddy, you made him so happy… and confident… when you were around, I've never seen Kurt happier… but it wasn't your job to protect him." He looked at the trembling boy before him. "But I think at times, like today, you really needed someone to protect you."
Blaine sobbed harder in response and buried his face fully into the man's shoulder, as if trying to hide from the world. "I tried to stop him," he wept, and Burt had no trouble working out what, or rather who the poor boy was now referring to. The mechanic suddenly had the urge to be sick, but forced himself to keep strong for the broken teenager. "I t-t-tried to f-fight him off… b-but I c-c-couldn't. I-I promise I t-tried-" he blubbered feverishly, to which Burt hushed him softly.
"I know bud… I know you tried." Burt murmured, almost in tears himself, bringing Blaine back into the gentle rocking motion he had initiated to calm the boy when he first woke up. "But you were so tired-"
"It's my own fault," Blaine cried, although he seemed to be berating himself now more than responding to Burt. "It's all my f-f-fault. I sh-should have tried h-h-harder-"
"Don't you dare blame yourself for this, Blaine. This is not, nor will it ever be your fault. We'll catch the bastard who did this, I promise you." Burt told the boy firmly, although his heart was breaking all over again, hearing this poor kid blaming himself for falling victim to a rapist. "There was nothing you could have done. You were exhausted – he would have easily overpowered you however hard you tried. You're still exhausted, kiddo-"
Blaine squeezed his eyes closed with such force, it looked as if he was physically trying to push the memories from his mind, "I b-begged him t-t-to st-stop but he just… laughed and c-c-carried on. I didn't want – I didn't w-w-want it… I wasn't r-r-ready."
Burt felt so, so angry as he listened to the brutal way in which Blaine's bastard attacker had treated the boy. He was fifteen for God's sakes. Fifteen years old, and Blaine's words suggested that that had been his first time. He grinded his teeth together and tried to stop himself from shaking with fury; Blaine was fifteen – of course he wasn't ready. And nobody would ever be ready for, or indeed deserve such a fate as sexual assault. He tightened his grip on the boy, desperate to provide him with at least that small comfort.
"It h-h-hurt." Now that Blaine was talking of the attack, apparently he could not stop.
"I know, bud." Burt murmured sympathetically, blinking back his own tears. "I'm so sorry."
"K-Kurt's n-n-never going to w-want to s-s-see me again w-when he f-finds out." Blaine cried, looking completely ashamed.
Burt shook his head, wishing he could stuff all of those bags of confidence that younger Blaine used to have, back into the slightly taller, older Blaine. "I've let Kurt know what's happened," he told the boy gently, continuing when Blaine looked devastated. "And he desperately wants to see you, bud. He doesn't give a damn that he hasn't seen or heard from you in six years. The first thing he said was that he wanted to see you. He misses you, buddy. We've all missed you."
"I-I don't w-want him to be ashamed of m-me." Blaine admitted, sucking in a breath almost greedily in an attempt to calm down.
"He won't be ashamed of you," Burt said surely. "I promise you that. No one could be ashamed of you after everything you've been through, bud. You've been so brave."
"I d-don't feel brave. All I c-can d-d-do is c-cry and I d-d-don't want to upset h-him."
"Blaine, for once in your life, put yourself first," Burt told him gently. "When you were brought in here, all you could say was that you wanted to see Kurt, so I know that no matter what you say now, you do want to see him. And he wants to see you." Blaine sniffed, looking doubtful. "You know, Kurt's grown up a lot since you last saw him; he's not going to break – he can handle himself pretty well. Like I said, it's not your job to take care of him – that's my responsibility. And if he's upset, which he probably will be, because he cares about you, then I'll deal with it." Slowly, Burt felt the tension in Blaine's body relax and knew he was beginning to calm down again. "But whatever happens, we won't abandon you, buddy – not again. You're not going back to Jonathan; you're coming home with us."
Blaine closed his eyes tightly, as if he could not bear the kindness Burt was showing him, or perhaps it was because kindness was a foreign experience to the boy. Burt was beginning to suspect both, but mainly the latter. He very much doubted Blaine had experienced much kindness at the hands of Jonathan Anderson. "I c-c-can't ask you t-to do that." Blaine struggled his way back into an even breathing pattern. "I c-can't b-be a burden to you."
"You don't have to ask – I'm telling you." Burt answered gruffly. "You'll come home with us-"
"I c-c-can't b-be a burden to you," Blaine repeated in distress. "I h-have nothing t-to repay you w-with… no m-money, no-"
"Do you think I care about any of that?" Burt demanded of the boy, a little hurt that the teenager would think otherwise. Then again, he had to remind himself that Blaine had Jonathan for a father, whose favourite hobby always seemed to be abusing or degrading his son. "I don't give damn that you have no money, bud. We don't need or want to be repaid. You're a part of the Hummel family – you always were. You belong with us."
Neither of them spoke for long minutes after Burt finished his declaration, but the mechanic swore that all of the tension in Blaine's body ebbed away at his words. Little by little, Blaine's sobs died down into little sporadic gulps of breath or sniffles, and Burt continued to hold him; to reassure him that he was truly home and cared for.
"'m tired." The boy whispered after a while, and sure enough, Burt could feel Blaine growing limp in his arms. The tears of distress and emotions at the reunion had completely wiped him out, on top of his already exhausted, malnourished state, and the teenager was beginning to drift off again.
Burt knew the boy needed rest, and rather thought that after Blaine's awful morning, the kid would welcome the haze of sleep, so gently he released him and laid him back down on the bed. "Then go to sleep, bud." He murmured back, adjusting the now wonky plastic tubing feeding into the boy's nostrils – the one that the nurses had been itching to fix but had not yet returned to resume the task. As he thought about this, he could not help but automatically glance up at the door, as if half-expecting the two nurses and that middle-aged doctor to waltz back in and take over now that Blaine was calmer. He had not however, been expecting Carole, leaning against the slightly ajar door, popping her head inside the room and smiling sadly. Burt checked on Blaine once more, breathing a sigh of relief when he saw that the boy was asleep, looking almost peaceful, despite his trauma.
Burt carefully and quietly got up from his perch at the edge of the boy's bed and followed Carole outside into the corridor, making sure the door clicked shut with as minimal noise a possible so as not to wake Blaine. He turned to face Carole who was still smiling sadly:
"You were really good with him, Burt." She told him proudly, though she still looked heartbroken at what she had seen.
Burt shook his head frowning, "How long were you there?"
Carole also frowned, as if pondering whether or not to answer honestly before questioning, "Does it matter?"
Burt conceded that she had a point and shook his head again, "No, I guess not."
She gave him a sympathetic smile and reached up to rub his forearm gently, knowing from what she had witnessed that her partner seemed almost as broken as the poor boy in the hospital bed. "Are you okay?" she asked, though she knew it was a lame and counterproductive question; they both knew the answer was 'no'.
"I… I just…" Burt mumbled, unable to articulate words without breaking down into tears, which he really did not want to do because Kurt would be arriving soon and he had to be his son's pillar of strength. "I just really, really wish there was more I could do for him. Actually, scratch that… I wish I stopped Jonathan all those years ago… stopped that bastard from… hurting him this morning."
Carole continued to rub his arm gently as a source of comfort and he looked back at her gratefully, "I know." She agreed, also wishing that she could have been driving to work only an hour or so earlier so that she could have prevented the attack from occurring. But, it was no use living in the past, she supposed. She then shook herself back into action, remembering why she had come to fetch Burt in the first place.
"Honey," Carole said softly. "Finn just called me – he and Kurt were just parking the car downstairs. They'll be up here in five minutes."
As if on cue, the lift doors at the far end of the corridor opened, revealing a devastated-looking Kurt, who already had tears dribbling down his chalk white cheeks, and Finn, who just looked plain uncomfortable. Burt automatically started to walk towards his son, feeling more grateful than he ever had done that Kurt was okay. His boy was okay… but a younger boy, who he also considered to be his son, was in a hospital bed. Kurt saw him immediately and began dashing down the corridor to meet him, "Dad!"
They met mid-way embracing each other fiercely, Kurt crying onto the same shoulder Blaine had, only half an hour previously. They stayed that way for a while until Kurt pulled back, looking anxiously into his father's eyes as he said the words Burt was dreading, "Where's Blaine? I want to see Blaine."
Yeah, I stopped it there because otherwise it would have been even longer and it was a while since I updated so I figured I'd at least post something. But I swear (really, this time) that the Klaine reunion is up next now that Kurt is at the hospital. How will they both react? Apologies if there are any mistakes that I've missed- my keyboard's playing up at the moment. Please review and let me know what you thought of this.