Pride, Privilege, and Predators
Title: Pride, Privilege, and Predators
Warnings: NonCon, Language, Violence
Fill for Glee Angst Meme
Chapter Seven
He soothes the distress. At least, he tries his best to offer what Blaine needs at this moment: comfort. Love never left them. He knows he fought for his freedom. Scars and stitches mar his once perfect skin. When he touches them, he feels his pain. Blaine sleeps beside him.
His breaths rise and fall with more ease. The heavy wheezing subsides for a while. He cannot sleep, so he listens to Blaine breathe. The oxygen tank whirs behind his head. The cot hurts his back. Rolling onto his left side, he listens to his father talking to someone in the hall. He hears murmurs about Blaine.
He cannot return home, not right now. Blaine sees out of one eye and his tears get under his skin. The world crashed in on him, literally, and here they were together again. He thinks about NYADA. His dance shoes were tucked in the right corner of the closet. Blaine lost his shoes along the way. Grime covered his bare feet when they brought him into the Intensive Care Unit.
Blaine cried and wheezed when the nurses scrubbed it off of his dirty feet. The nightmares plagued him. He would sit and stare out of the window whenever he could. They needed to leave this place together. Blaine curls his fingers over his own. Kurt blushes and sits up. Blaine wheezes in the bed.
NYADA feels like a distant dream. Today, he dropped out of college. He commits to Blaine Anderson. Rachel has her spotlight. She won a coveted spot in the Winter Showcase. He earned a styled note as well, but he turned it down and withdrew from his classes. Blaine needs long term care.
He can find a job at his father’s garage. They need a place to live; they cannot expect a warm welcome from Blaine’s family. He knows that much already.
Yesterday they chased away Mr. Anderson. He asked too many questions. The doctors want to discharge Blaine. He’s not ready; he’s too broken. Looking up, he finds Blaine’s good eye on his face and he sits up. Their fingers link together.
"I love you,” Blaine says, “I wanted you to stay. I--I missed you while you were away.”
Every word he says feels like a dagger in his heart. NYADA never hurt this much, despite its problems. Rachel lead him to a party and he received humiliation in return as some sort of diva-crazy hazing. The girls like pushing him, but he can handle them. They don’t slam him into lockers or threaten to kill him. NYADA challenges him in every way possible. Blaine comes first.
He cannot lose him like his mother. The close call with his father haunts him to this very day. He cannot return to school. He feels relief, anger, and pride when he thinks about NYADA. At this moment he feels guilty, because he wants to finish school and he understands that his commitment means he never will. He knows what happened; knows his boyfriend suffered an even more personal attack this time around. They can survive this.
“I should have stopped drinking,” Blaine says, “it tasted funny--I don’t know--I think by the third beer.”
The concussion stole his eyesight. His swelling went down a bit today. He has more color to his face. That hint of red he always gets before a performance. He finds happiness in the familiar color: red. It dominates over the purple, blue, and yellow. He sees past the bruises.
The doctors want to discharge him in a few days, perhaps a week at most. They need a plan. He’s heard Cooper arguing over it with someone on the phone. First, he complains about his father. Second, he converses with lawyers. In a third twist of fate, he spoke to his father. Blaine has a place to stay; he overhears their hurried agreement.
In a few months, he can save work money for their own place. They cannot live apart. He promises.
“We’ll worry about discharge later,” he says, “my dad will help us.”
His heart beats with certainty.
“We’ll be together.” He kisses his hand. “We’ll leave this place together.”
“I want to leave with you,” Blaine replies, “I want you, not him.”
“I want you to come with me,” he says, “live with me--stay by me.”
Blaine wheezes a quiet yes. Things settle between them. He listens to him breathe. Sometimes, they win a fight with pure luck. Prom comes to his mind. Dancing with Blaine left him breathless. They danced through life, they sang, they loved.
“I want you,” Blaine says, “just you and no one else.”
“He’s a part of us now,” he admits, “he’s going to be a part of us and you know it.”
No use in lying. They value honesty. Blaine knows this--rape--will always be a part of their relationship from here on out, just like the tainted slushy and before that, like Karofsky and an unwanted kiss. He will not sit here and sugar coat things for Blaine. He’s an advocate for his health. The truth hurts more than anything else, because he would rather deal with a cheating boyfriend than this. The news showed his face.
“It’s viral Blaine,” he says as he looks him straight in the eye, “they aren’t releasing your name, but it’s spread across McKinley like a wildfire.”
“They know what happened,” Blaine raspes, “I don’t care.”
Squeezing his fingers, he places the palm of Blaine’s hand against his left cheek.
“All I really care about is getting out of here,” he says, “I hate this place, Kurt.”
“You know I hate hospitals as much as you do,” he replies, “look, we have another visitor.”
Finn appears in the doorway, lumbering over them like an old willow tree.
“You look like hell,” he says as he walks over to the bed, “you look worse--at least he’s slept, Kurt.”
“Thank you,” he replies, “just what we needed to hear.”
His brother lurches backwards as if he’d been slapped.
“You should get some rest,” he says, “go home. You--you never left. You stayed here the entire time.”
He sighs, growing tired of this endless routine. Blaine wheezes out a wet cough, then he’s hacking into Finn’s bandana (the one he uses at the shop). He leaves the cot and stands. Stroking Blaine’s cheek, he feels red. Blaine shivers beneath his hands. He feels warmth instead of ice. Something healed today.
A good day, though he wonders. What in the hell compelled his boyfriend to get into that car with the guy who damaged his eyes? The thought chases him around, refusing to leave him alone. He wants to ask Blaine. Would he answer? Would he cry again? He looks at him as Finn wipes his chin clean.
“I’m not leaving,” he replies, “I’m staying here.”
They support each other. Blaine wheezes. The rasping cough plagues him throughout the day. The doctors say it will pass. They listen to the distressed breathing every hour of the day. He wants the horrible sound to go away; he wants the oblivious fool instead. Anything except this place or this--event.
“I want him to stay, Finn,” Blaine says, “I want him there.”
“Okay,” Finn replies, “Is it alright if our friends come to visit? They--they asked me today at practice.”
“They know,” Blaine says, “they know what happened.”
He wheezes into the bandana, under the pressure of his broken ribs. Stroking his cheek, Kurt presses a kiss to his forehead.
“I don’t think that’s a good idea Finn,” he says, “we prefer to---keep to ourselves for a while.”
He loves New Directions, but he loves Blaine the most. More than he’s ever loved anyone aside from his parents. Their friends mean well, but he knows them. Santana would judge them for this. Rachel let a group of girls undress him. He walked out of that party without a shirt on. She burned him and she will judge them for the attack.
He knows they all have their own ideas about what happened, how this transpired. Would they question Blaine’s chastity like they questioned his? He does not want to face them, not yet, not here. They face questions and little fact. He receives empathy and sometimes judgement for staying by his boyfriend’s side.
“I’ll tell them,” Finn says, “but I can’t stall them forever. You know they love you guys.”
“No,” Blaine replies, “I don’t want to see them. They know!”
The shout startles his stepbrother. Finn backs away from the bed. He looks at Kurt. They support each other, in their own unique way. Finn runs a hand through his hair. Blaine coughs and wheezes into his shirt. The slime instantly drenches the bottom hem of his shirt.
He wraps his arms around him, minding his broken ribs. Hot breath grazes against his neck. He holds onto Blaine.
“I can’t leave him here on his own,” he says, “he needs me here.”
Finn nods. They share an hour of relative silence. The hospital never really quiets down, it just changes paces. The night shift operates differently than the day shift. The staff are in and out of their room. Doctors swing by several times a day, while the nurses come at least once an hour. When they were downstairs they had a nurse in their room every half hour and the doctors came four times a day, sometimes more.
Being upstairs means improvement. Soon they would go home and try to forget the hard facts about another hospital. Other people put them here each time they wound up facing another harsh reality. Blaine curls against him. Finn leaves with his father, who looks at them with sympathy in his eyes. He loves his father--he knows Blaine will have a place to stay. Cooper stays in the hallway, keeping a silent vigil over them.
Warnings: NonCon, Language, Violence
Fill for Glee Angst Meme
Chapter Seven
He soothes the distress. At least, he tries his best to offer what Blaine needs at this moment: comfort. Love never left them. He knows he fought for his freedom. Scars and stitches mar his once perfect skin. When he touches them, he feels his pain. Blaine sleeps beside him.
His breaths rise and fall with more ease. The heavy wheezing subsides for a while. He cannot sleep, so he listens to Blaine breathe. The oxygen tank whirs behind his head. The cot hurts his back. Rolling onto his left side, he listens to his father talking to someone in the hall. He hears murmurs about Blaine.
He cannot return home, not right now. Blaine sees out of one eye and his tears get under his skin. The world crashed in on him, literally, and here they were together again. He thinks about NYADA. His dance shoes were tucked in the right corner of the closet. Blaine lost his shoes along the way. Grime covered his bare feet when they brought him into the Intensive Care Unit.
Blaine cried and wheezed when the nurses scrubbed it off of his dirty feet. The nightmares plagued him. He would sit and stare out of the window whenever he could. They needed to leave this place together. Blaine curls his fingers over his own. Kurt blushes and sits up. Blaine wheezes in the bed.
NYADA feels like a distant dream. Today, he dropped out of college. He commits to Blaine Anderson. Rachel has her spotlight. She won a coveted spot in the Winter Showcase. He earned a styled note as well, but he turned it down and withdrew from his classes. Blaine needs long term care.
He can find a job at his father’s garage. They need a place to live; they cannot expect a warm welcome from Blaine’s family. He knows that much already.
Yesterday they chased away Mr. Anderson. He asked too many questions. The doctors want to discharge Blaine. He’s not ready; he’s too broken. Looking up, he finds Blaine’s good eye on his face and he sits up. Their fingers link together.
"I love you,” Blaine says, “I wanted you to stay. I--I missed you while you were away.”
Every word he says feels like a dagger in his heart. NYADA never hurt this much, despite its problems. Rachel lead him to a party and he received humiliation in return as some sort of diva-crazy hazing. The girls like pushing him, but he can handle them. They don’t slam him into lockers or threaten to kill him. NYADA challenges him in every way possible. Blaine comes first.
He cannot lose him like his mother. The close call with his father haunts him to this very day. He cannot return to school. He feels relief, anger, and pride when he thinks about NYADA. At this moment he feels guilty, because he wants to finish school and he understands that his commitment means he never will. He knows what happened; knows his boyfriend suffered an even more personal attack this time around. They can survive this.
“I should have stopped drinking,” Blaine says, “it tasted funny--I don’t know--I think by the third beer.”
The concussion stole his eyesight. His swelling went down a bit today. He has more color to his face. That hint of red he always gets before a performance. He finds happiness in the familiar color: red. It dominates over the purple, blue, and yellow. He sees past the bruises.
The doctors want to discharge him in a few days, perhaps a week at most. They need a plan. He’s heard Cooper arguing over it with someone on the phone. First, he complains about his father. Second, he converses with lawyers. In a third twist of fate, he spoke to his father. Blaine has a place to stay; he overhears their hurried agreement.
In a few months, he can save work money for their own place. They cannot live apart. He promises.
“We’ll worry about discharge later,” he says, “my dad will help us.”
His heart beats with certainty.
“We’ll be together.” He kisses his hand. “We’ll leave this place together.”
“I want to leave with you,” Blaine replies, “I want you, not him.”
“I want you to come with me,” he says, “live with me--stay by me.”
Blaine wheezes a quiet yes. Things settle between them. He listens to him breathe. Sometimes, they win a fight with pure luck. Prom comes to his mind. Dancing with Blaine left him breathless. They danced through life, they sang, they loved.
“I want you,” Blaine says, “just you and no one else.”
“He’s a part of us now,” he admits, “he’s going to be a part of us and you know it.”
No use in lying. They value honesty. Blaine knows this--rape--will always be a part of their relationship from here on out, just like the tainted slushy and before that, like Karofsky and an unwanted kiss. He will not sit here and sugar coat things for Blaine. He’s an advocate for his health. The truth hurts more than anything else, because he would rather deal with a cheating boyfriend than this. The news showed his face.
“It’s viral Blaine,” he says as he looks him straight in the eye, “they aren’t releasing your name, but it’s spread across McKinley like a wildfire.”
“They know what happened,” Blaine raspes, “I don’t care.”
Squeezing his fingers, he places the palm of Blaine’s hand against his left cheek.
“All I really care about is getting out of here,” he says, “I hate this place, Kurt.”
“You know I hate hospitals as much as you do,” he replies, “look, we have another visitor.”
Finn appears in the doorway, lumbering over them like an old willow tree.
“You look like hell,” he says as he walks over to the bed, “you look worse--at least he’s slept, Kurt.”
“Thank you,” he replies, “just what we needed to hear.”
His brother lurches backwards as if he’d been slapped.
“You should get some rest,” he says, “go home. You--you never left. You stayed here the entire time.”
He sighs, growing tired of this endless routine. Blaine wheezes out a wet cough, then he’s hacking into Finn’s bandana (the one he uses at the shop). He leaves the cot and stands. Stroking Blaine’s cheek, he feels red. Blaine shivers beneath his hands. He feels warmth instead of ice. Something healed today.
A good day, though he wonders. What in the hell compelled his boyfriend to get into that car with the guy who damaged his eyes? The thought chases him around, refusing to leave him alone. He wants to ask Blaine. Would he answer? Would he cry again? He looks at him as Finn wipes his chin clean.
“I’m not leaving,” he replies, “I’m staying here.”
They support each other. Blaine wheezes. The rasping cough plagues him throughout the day. The doctors say it will pass. They listen to the distressed breathing every hour of the day. He wants the horrible sound to go away; he wants the oblivious fool instead. Anything except this place or this--event.
“I want him to stay, Finn,” Blaine says, “I want him there.”
“Okay,” Finn replies, “Is it alright if our friends come to visit? They--they asked me today at practice.”
“They know,” Blaine says, “they know what happened.”
He wheezes into the bandana, under the pressure of his broken ribs. Stroking his cheek, Kurt presses a kiss to his forehead.
“I don’t think that’s a good idea Finn,” he says, “we prefer to---keep to ourselves for a while.”
He loves New Directions, but he loves Blaine the most. More than he’s ever loved anyone aside from his parents. Their friends mean well, but he knows them. Santana would judge them for this. Rachel let a group of girls undress him. He walked out of that party without a shirt on. She burned him and she will judge them for the attack.
He knows they all have their own ideas about what happened, how this transpired. Would they question Blaine’s chastity like they questioned his? He does not want to face them, not yet, not here. They face questions and little fact. He receives empathy and sometimes judgement for staying by his boyfriend’s side.
“I’ll tell them,” Finn says, “but I can’t stall them forever. You know they love you guys.”
“No,” Blaine replies, “I don’t want to see them. They know!”
The shout startles his stepbrother. Finn backs away from the bed. He looks at Kurt. They support each other, in their own unique way. Finn runs a hand through his hair. Blaine coughs and wheezes into his shirt. The slime instantly drenches the bottom hem of his shirt.
He wraps his arms around him, minding his broken ribs. Hot breath grazes against his neck. He holds onto Blaine.
“I can’t leave him here on his own,” he says, “he needs me here.”
Finn nods. They share an hour of relative silence. The hospital never really quiets down, it just changes paces. The night shift operates differently than the day shift. The staff are in and out of their room. Doctors swing by several times a day, while the nurses come at least once an hour. When they were downstairs they had a nurse in their room every half hour and the doctors came four times a day, sometimes more.
Being upstairs means improvement. Soon they would go home and try to forget the hard facts about another hospital. Other people put them here each time they wound up facing another harsh reality. Blaine curls against him. Finn leaves with his father, who looks at them with sympathy in his eyes. He loves his father--he knows Blaine will have a place to stay. Cooper stays in the hallway, keeping a silent vigil over them.