Your Steady Hands - 8/10 (Pre Kurt/Blaine)
Title: Your Steady Hands
Pairing: Pre-Kurt/Blaine
Rating: R
Word count: 3,200/???
Disclaimer: They so don't belong to me, loves. I think they might be grateful for that.
Summary:
grief
-noun
1. keen mental suffering or distress over affliction or loss; sharp sorrow; painful regret.
2. a cause or occasion of keen distress or sorrow.
What do you do after you lose absolutely everything? Blaine would really like to know.
Warnings: This story deals with the aftermath of rape. While there are no really graphic details, there are a few flashbacks that could be triggering, so please read this with caution.
Author's note: This is the sequel to Number Not The Voices. You'll probably want to read that one first. Also, this was started waaaay back during the winter hiatus. That being said, it goes completely AU after 'The Sue Sylvester Shuffle'. Parts of later episodes are mentioned, but the events therein have changed to reflect the situation in the story. So keep that in mind if things seem off from current canon.
Prologue
Denial, Part One ::: Part Two
Bargaining, Part One ::: Bargaining, Part Two
Interlude - A Mending of the Tears
Depression, Part One ::: Depression, Part Two
Anger, Part One
Your Steady Hands - Anger, Part Two
By the time they got to the back parking lot Kurt was frantic. Finn had given him the abbreviated version of what had happened in the back parking lot as he limped along beside him and Kurt was nearly desperate to get to Blaine before things got worse.
Kurt had wanted nothing more than to sprint outside to be by Blaine’s side, but he couldn't leave Finn behind in the state he was in. His face was turning into a mass of purple and black bruises, one eye was swelling shut already, and he held one arm wrapped protectively around his ribs, his breath coming in short, quick gasps.
Kurt couldn't believe what he had done. Who goes up against five guys single handed? His brother was officially the bravest person Kurt had ever met. And also possibly the stupidest. Who does that?
Out in the parking lot there was chaos. Not only were Blaine and Ms. Pillsbury, but so were Figgins, Mr. Schue, the school nurse, and Coach Beiste. Kurt pushed his way through the crowd to get to where Blaine still sat, huddled in the corner, eyes wide and vacant.
“Blaine, honey, you need to stop,” Ms. Pillsbury was saying softly, her hands hovering over Blaine’s bleeding arms. The nurse had been lingering nearby, her hands full of bandages, but as soon as she had seen Finn she had pounced on him, forcing him to sit down and immediately dabbing at his bleeding lip.
Kurt knelt down next to Ms. Pillsbury, gently pushing her hands away from Blaine. “Can you make them back off?” he asked, sliding his scarf out of its knot and off his neck. “They're making it worse.”
“Of course,” she said quietly, standing up and getting out of his way. She put one slim hand on his shoulder, squeezing gently. “Will - Mr. Schuester - called you father. He's on his way.”
He nodded absently as she turned and started prodding people away from them. Once they had some breathing space Kurt turned back to Blaine, starting up a monologue of useless words as he peeled Blaine’s fingers away from his bleeding arms and began to wrap them up with his scarf.
“You know, none of us ever thought of fighting back. That was brave, trying to get away. We always just accepted it. Let it happen like we had no choice. Maybe if we had been brave enough to fight back things wouldn't have gotten so bad around here.”
He finished one arm and carefully tore the scarf in half, not caring at all that he had just ruined a hundred dollar scarf. Blood was already seeping through the arm he had wrapped up. He wished his father would hurry.
He kept talking as he worked, grateful that everyone had backed off a bit, though he could still hear the adults question Finn about what happened.
“What were they doing to Blaine?”
“How many of them were there?”
“Did they all hurt you, or just some of them?”
Then the most important question, “Who were they?”
Finn listed off five names and Kurt knew them all. Most of them had been on the team last year when he had helped them win their first game. They had all been part of the half-time performance at the championship game. And every single one of them had slushied him or tossed him into a dumpster before.
This all should have ended ages ago, Kurt thought bitterly as he slipped his hand into Blaine’s, finally finished bandaging his damaged arms. Blaine just stared at the far wall, completely oblivious to what was going on around him.
“What about Karofsky?” Mr. Schuester asked.
Kurt’s eyes widened and he looked back at the crowd of people, Finn lying on the ground in the middle of them all with the nurse fussing over him. Kurt was honestly surprised when Finn shook his head, but more so by what his brother said next.
“He's the one that told me what they were going to do.”
Kurt only had a moment to be shocked, Finn hadn't told him that part when he had given his hurried explanation in the middle of the boys bathroom, before he heard the familiar sound of his dad's truck pulling up behind them.
His dad slammed the door of his truck and immediately rounded on Figgins, and Kurt felt himself begin to relax. His hands tightened around Blaine’s unresponsive ones, a silent reassurance that everything was going to be okay.
“You have one chance to fix this, Figgins,” Burt growled, his face flushed with anger and one large hand pointing angrily at the principle's face. “Or I'm gonna do it my way.”
“We'll take care of it, Burt,” Mr. Schue said, placing a hand on Burt's shoulder, not to calm him but to show support. The look on Schuester's face was just as angry as Burt's. “I promise.”
Everyone stood motionless as the two men looked at each other. Then Burt must have seen whatever he was looking for because he nodded and turned away from Schue and the rest of the teachers to focus on Finn.
“What the hell were you thinking, kid?”
“I had to,” Finn said quickly, trying to rise, but a firm hand on his shoulder pushed him gently back to the ground. “He was so scared and I just...I couldn’t leave him to get help. I...”
“Okay, Finn, it's alright. You did the right thing. I'm just sorry you got hurt because of it.” Burt patted Finn carefully on the shoulder, his eyes glancing over the bandage on his forehead. “Just sit here a minute, alright? We'll get you to the hospital soon. You're mom's already there because she was on shift, and she's worried sick.”
Finally he turned away from Finn and moved over to where Kurt was still kneeling beside Blaine. Kurt moved aside, still clutching one of Blaine’s hands tightly, and looked anxiously at his father.
“You alright?” Burt asked, reaching over briefly to give him a hug.
Kurt nodded and leaned into his father's embrace, needing the familiar strength of him, then turned back to Blaine. “I'm fine. Please, just...”
“We'll take care of him, don't worry.”
Burt took Blaine’s free hand in one of his, reaching out with the other to gently touch Blaine’s cheek, careful not to startle him like last time. He turned Blaine’s face so that he was looking directly at him, but his eyes were still unfocused, his stare vacant, as if he didn't even know or care what was happening around him.
“Blaine,” Burt said gently. “Are you with us, kiddo?”
Blaine’s eyes blinked slowly but they were still empty, frighteningly lifeless, for another moment, two, three. Then their dark depths welled with tears and he turned to Burt with a shaky breath.
“What...?”
“Hey there. You alright?”
He blinked again; Kurt squeezed his hand and earned a glance out of the corner of his eye. Suddenly Blaine’s gaze fell on Finn, still lying prone on the ground, blood on his shirt and his arm in a sling.
“Oh, god.” Blaine started taking in short, sharp breathes, his eyes wide and his hands squeezing tightly.
“Hey, hey, you're alright. You're safe,” Burt assured him and Kurt moved closer, slipped into his space to wrap an arm around his shoulders. Blaine turned to him, pulled his hand out of Kurt’s grasp to wipe at his eyes.
“I tried to stop them,” he whispered, his voice hoarse. “I tried to scream but...”
“I know. Finn told me.” Kurt threaded his fingers through Blaine’s disheveled hair, the curls stiff with gel and sweat. He hated that Blaine felt so vulnerable, so lost and out of control because of those stupid neanderthals.
“Dad, are they-”
“They won't get away with this, Kurt, I promise,” he father said, large, comforting hands holding them both gently, callused fingers brushing their cheeks, like they were still children, like they're still something so precious and fragile.
“Burt?” Blaine’s voice sounded broken, his eyes kept darting out to where everyone else stood woodenly, pretending not to listen. “Can I...I know you said I couldn't come home every time I had a b-bad day but-”
“Kiddo, I don't think today goes in the same category,” Burt laughed mirthlessly. He stood slowly, reached down to grab Blaine and Kurt by the hands and pull them up too. Kurt stayed close to Blaine, wrapped his arm around the other boy's trembling back and felt the too-quick beat of his heart. “You two go home. Put in a Grey's Anatomy marathon or something. I'm going to bring your brother to the hospital, then we'll all be home later, okay?”
Kurt nodded, steering Blaine towards the front lot where the car was parked, as his father turned his attention back to Finn. Two steps back, Kurt thought. He was starting to wonder if they were even on the right track any more.
*****
Blaine felt like he hadn't stopped shaking in hours. His body was tense with it, the throbbing behind his eyes pulsing with his heartbeat. He was curled up with Kurt in the oversized recliner, switching back and forth from watching the movie on the television to watching Finn, who was laid out on the sofa, Carole fussing at his side.
The other boy had come home from the hospital with his wrist in a cast, his ribs wrapped, and a bag full of pain-killers. His face was a mass of purple and black bruises, and he had limped inside, favoring his left leg where the knee was swollen and wrapped in a brace.
Blaine had never felt guiltier about anything in his life. This was all his fault. If he hadn't been such a coward, if he had just let them take him, if he had-
The door swung open, cutting off Blaine's trail of thought, and Burt walked slowly through the doorway looking exhausted. “Burt, honey?” Carole stood slowly from where she had been sitting on the floor beside Finn and crossed the living room to her husband as he stripped his jacket off and hung it on one of the hooks by the door.
Burt's shoulders were hunched and the lines around his eyes seemed to be etched a little deeper tonight. Blaine sat up in the chair, he and Kurt jostling each other as they both leaned forward to hear what Burt had to say. He had left the house hours ago after settling Finn on the couch and ensuring that Blaine was...well, that he wasn't freaking out again.
'I'll fix this,' he had promised Blaine, a tight grip around his shoulders and conviction in his voice as Blaine had stood pathetically in the middle of the room, completely lost. Blaine had just watched him storm out of the house, nodding dumbly when Kurt had suggested switching from Audrey Hepburn movies to Star Wars for Finn's sake.
Since then they had all been waiting, tension palpable through the room as Carole fussed and tutted over them all and none of them spoke a word except to turn down Carole's offers of food or drinks or something, anything to take the hurt and the fear away.
“Well,” Burt sighed wearily, as he stepped into the room and sat slowly down onto the coffee table so he could look at all of them. The anger that had been on his face since he had arrived at the school was gone, nothing but the tiredness in his eyes now.
“Figgin's tried to do his usual back-pedalling, but Schuester and that odd little counselor woman insisted that they had seen those boys hurting Finn, so he caved and promised that all four of them would be expelled.”
Everyone breathed a sigh of relief and Blaine finally felt the tension dissolve from his shoulders. Kurt's arm around him tightened.
“But...for real, right?” Finn asked from his place stretched out on the couch. His voice was groggy, words a little slurred. Carole looked down at him, her eyes pained, and ran a comforting hand over his hair. “I mean, they're not just gonna let them back in like they did with Karofsky, right? Cuz they'll just be mad if they come back and they might think it was Blaine's fault and I don't want them to go after him again.”
What would happen if they went after him again, Blaine thought. Would he freak out again? Would someone else get hurt because of him? Would any of this ever just end?
“This is bullshit.”
The words came out as a growl, tight and angry, boiling up from deep inside.
He pushed up out of the chair, pulling out of Kurt's grasp as everyone turned to stare at him, confusion on their faces. “Blaine, didn't you hear my dad? They're being expelled.”
“It's not about that!” Kurt jumped at Blaine's sudden shout. “It's about this,” fingers digging into the gauze wrapped around his arms, nails scratching against the tape. “It's about...being afraid all the time. It's about the fact that it happened in the first place because I'm a fucking coward! It's about trying so fucking hard and never getting anywhere.”
“Blaine, you just need-”
“Don't tell me I need time! I've had time! I just want it to stop!”
“Blaine-”
“No! Damn it, Kurt, I don't even remember what happened!”
Kurt's brilliant blue eyes flashed stormy with emotion, anger and pain and sorrow all at once, like he couldn't decide on just one. “You remember enough,” he said, voice strong and sure, as if what he said was the only truth that could exist. “We're not the GOP, Blaine. We're not trying to define what is and isn't rape. Just because you don't remember every single detail in technicolor doesn't mean you don't get to react. It doesn’t make it hurt any less.”
Kurt approached him slowly, as if afraid he would snap, and that just made Blaine angry. He wasn't fragile. He wasn't a child that needed to be coddled and pacified.
“I knew,” he hissed, words full of derision and self-loathing. Because it was the truth. He had known all along.
“What?”
“I knew something was wrong, Kurt. He was my teacher, and he asked me to go to the movies three hours away from the school, alone. Why do you think I didn't tell you? I knew. But I was so fucking desperate to-to please my father that I went anyway. And now my father hates me, and Finn's hurt, and you...you're stuck with this pariah that just won't leave.”
A small voice of reason was shouting at him that he needed to calm down, gain control. He was spiraling quickly and with an audience. Finn and Carole and Burt were all wide-eyed and shocked, the usual confusion and grief playing across all their faces. God he hated this. He hated breaking apart; he hated being this weak but he couldn't stop it. The words were like poison, expelling themselves from his body. It was either that or let them sink in and stay.
“Blaine-”
“I know how exhausting this is for you, Kurt. Always worrying about me, wondering what's going to set me off. Wondering if today is the day I just lose it.”
“Blaine, I don't feel that way. I love you.”
Blaine stopped short, the words suddenly stuck in his throat, a stone lodged deep inside, ready to choke him. His eyes began to burn, filling like floodwaters and causing everything to blur around him, Kurt's wide eyes and flushed skin incandescent through the tears.
“You shouldn't.”
He choked back the sob pushing its way up from deep inside and turned away from Kurt, his best friend, his lifeline, before running to the basement and slamming the door shut. He locked it behind him and stumbled down the stairs. He could hear Kurt running after him up above as he slid to the floor, pushing his hands into his hair and pulling, hard.
Kurt shouldn't love him. No one should love him. His father hated him, his mother had never cared that he existed, and Grant had only wanted him for sex. There was nothing to love about him at all. He was a screw up, and sooner or later he would ruin this too, just like he had ruined everything else.
He could hear Kurt pounding on the door, demanding to be let in, worry lacing his voice. Burt's soft rumble joined in, soothing, placating.
What did they think he was going to do down here? Damn it, what was he doing down here? Hands pulling tightly at his hair, he tried to take a deep breath and couldn't. They were only trying to help. They were only trying to make it better for him, and he was down here throwing a hissy-fit like a three year old.
He had spent his entire life wanting a family like this. Wishing for someone to just love him, unconditionally. He had found that here, with these people who had no obligation to him at all, and yet all he could do was push them away.
Maybe if they leave you now it won't hurt so much.
Blaine closed his eyes against the words, leaned his head against the cool brick wall. His hands were still in his hair, pulling until his scalp ached. The gouges on his arms were throbbing. And through it all, past the pain and the nastiness in his head, was the sound of their voices, beckoning him back upstairs, promising comfort, promising peace.
Blaine stood slowly, shaking hands gripping the banister tightly as he turned to walk back up the stairs.
“Tell him I'm okay!” Finn's slurred shout nearly brought a smile to Blaine's face as he paused in front of the closed basement door, his fingers hovering over the lock.
“Finn, not now,” Kurt hissed, the door still shaking under the pounding of his hands.
“But, Kurt-”
“Not now, Finn!” Kurt snapped at his brother. “Blaine, please.”
“Kurt, enough.” Blaine could hear Burt's soft footfalls, listened quietly to the rustle of cloth on the other side of the door. “Let him have some time alone, alright?”
There was a pause and Blaine almost opened the door, almost reached out for Kurt like he had so many times before. Then he heard Kurt’s soft voice, broken open and raw. “But he needs me.”
The truth of it wrapped around Blaine's chest, like a snake squeezing the life out of him, and he pulled away from the door, away from Kurt and Burt, and everything that was waiting for him on the other side.
To Be Continued (soon, I promise!)
Oh my god, you guys, I am sooooooooo sorry! Seriously, there are not words in the English language that express how sorry I am that this has taken me so long. I am not a long-fic writer. I get burst of inspiration and then...this. I've not had writer's block this bad in years.
I feel like this chapter is a let down after such a long wait, and I'm sorry for that too. I promise, cross my heart and hope to die, that it will NOT take me this long to get the next chapter out. If you noticed, there's officially 10 chapters total, so there's only two more. I have a plan, I know where it's going and where it's ending. Now all I have to do is make my muses stop playing 'ring-around-the-mulberry-bush' with my inspiration and we can have our happy ending, okay? Okay.
And thank you so much to all my readers who stuck with me, and kept encouraging me and demanding more. knowing you guys were out there, waiting and wanting more made me barrel through the writer's block and get this done for you. and amordemealma. Seriously, her and her whipencouragement are the reason this chapter is getting up at all. Love you, deary! (Now write your own damn fic!)
- Meagan
Pairing: Pre-Kurt/Blaine
Rating: R
Word count: 3,200/???
Disclaimer: They so don't belong to me, loves. I think they might be grateful for that.
Summary:
grief
-noun
1. keen mental suffering or distress over affliction or loss; sharp sorrow; painful regret.
2. a cause or occasion of keen distress or sorrow.
What do you do after you lose absolutely everything? Blaine would really like to know.
Warnings: This story deals with the aftermath of rape. While there are no really graphic details, there are a few flashbacks that could be triggering, so please read this with caution.
Author's note: This is the sequel to Number Not The Voices. You'll probably want to read that one first. Also, this was started waaaay back during the winter hiatus. That being said, it goes completely AU after 'The Sue Sylvester Shuffle'. Parts of later episodes are mentioned, but the events therein have changed to reflect the situation in the story. So keep that in mind if things seem off from current canon.
Prologue
Denial, Part One ::: Part Two
Bargaining, Part One ::: Bargaining, Part Two
Interlude - A Mending of the Tears
Depression, Part One ::: Depression, Part Two
Anger, Part One
Your Steady Hands - Anger, Part Two
By the time they got to the back parking lot Kurt was frantic. Finn had given him the abbreviated version of what had happened in the back parking lot as he limped along beside him and Kurt was nearly desperate to get to Blaine before things got worse.
Kurt had wanted nothing more than to sprint outside to be by Blaine’s side, but he couldn't leave Finn behind in the state he was in. His face was turning into a mass of purple and black bruises, one eye was swelling shut already, and he held one arm wrapped protectively around his ribs, his breath coming in short, quick gasps.
Kurt couldn't believe what he had done. Who goes up against five guys single handed? His brother was officially the bravest person Kurt had ever met. And also possibly the stupidest. Who does that?
Out in the parking lot there was chaos. Not only were Blaine and Ms. Pillsbury, but so were Figgins, Mr. Schue, the school nurse, and Coach Beiste. Kurt pushed his way through the crowd to get to where Blaine still sat, huddled in the corner, eyes wide and vacant.
“Blaine, honey, you need to stop,” Ms. Pillsbury was saying softly, her hands hovering over Blaine’s bleeding arms. The nurse had been lingering nearby, her hands full of bandages, but as soon as she had seen Finn she had pounced on him, forcing him to sit down and immediately dabbing at his bleeding lip.
Kurt knelt down next to Ms. Pillsbury, gently pushing her hands away from Blaine. “Can you make them back off?” he asked, sliding his scarf out of its knot and off his neck. “They're making it worse.”
“Of course,” she said quietly, standing up and getting out of his way. She put one slim hand on his shoulder, squeezing gently. “Will - Mr. Schuester - called you father. He's on his way.”
He nodded absently as she turned and started prodding people away from them. Once they had some breathing space Kurt turned back to Blaine, starting up a monologue of useless words as he peeled Blaine’s fingers away from his bleeding arms and began to wrap them up with his scarf.
“You know, none of us ever thought of fighting back. That was brave, trying to get away. We always just accepted it. Let it happen like we had no choice. Maybe if we had been brave enough to fight back things wouldn't have gotten so bad around here.”
He finished one arm and carefully tore the scarf in half, not caring at all that he had just ruined a hundred dollar scarf. Blood was already seeping through the arm he had wrapped up. He wished his father would hurry.
He kept talking as he worked, grateful that everyone had backed off a bit, though he could still hear the adults question Finn about what happened.
“What were they doing to Blaine?”
“How many of them were there?”
“Did they all hurt you, or just some of them?”
Then the most important question, “Who were they?”
Finn listed off five names and Kurt knew them all. Most of them had been on the team last year when he had helped them win their first game. They had all been part of the half-time performance at the championship game. And every single one of them had slushied him or tossed him into a dumpster before.
This all should have ended ages ago, Kurt thought bitterly as he slipped his hand into Blaine’s, finally finished bandaging his damaged arms. Blaine just stared at the far wall, completely oblivious to what was going on around him.
“What about Karofsky?” Mr. Schuester asked.
Kurt’s eyes widened and he looked back at the crowd of people, Finn lying on the ground in the middle of them all with the nurse fussing over him. Kurt was honestly surprised when Finn shook his head, but more so by what his brother said next.
“He's the one that told me what they were going to do.”
Kurt only had a moment to be shocked, Finn hadn't told him that part when he had given his hurried explanation in the middle of the boys bathroom, before he heard the familiar sound of his dad's truck pulling up behind them.
His dad slammed the door of his truck and immediately rounded on Figgins, and Kurt felt himself begin to relax. His hands tightened around Blaine’s unresponsive ones, a silent reassurance that everything was going to be okay.
“You have one chance to fix this, Figgins,” Burt growled, his face flushed with anger and one large hand pointing angrily at the principle's face. “Or I'm gonna do it my way.”
“We'll take care of it, Burt,” Mr. Schue said, placing a hand on Burt's shoulder, not to calm him but to show support. The look on Schuester's face was just as angry as Burt's. “I promise.”
Everyone stood motionless as the two men looked at each other. Then Burt must have seen whatever he was looking for because he nodded and turned away from Schue and the rest of the teachers to focus on Finn.
“What the hell were you thinking, kid?”
“I had to,” Finn said quickly, trying to rise, but a firm hand on his shoulder pushed him gently back to the ground. “He was so scared and I just...I couldn’t leave him to get help. I...”
“Okay, Finn, it's alright. You did the right thing. I'm just sorry you got hurt because of it.” Burt patted Finn carefully on the shoulder, his eyes glancing over the bandage on his forehead. “Just sit here a minute, alright? We'll get you to the hospital soon. You're mom's already there because she was on shift, and she's worried sick.”
Finally he turned away from Finn and moved over to where Kurt was still kneeling beside Blaine. Kurt moved aside, still clutching one of Blaine’s hands tightly, and looked anxiously at his father.
“You alright?” Burt asked, reaching over briefly to give him a hug.
Kurt nodded and leaned into his father's embrace, needing the familiar strength of him, then turned back to Blaine. “I'm fine. Please, just...”
“We'll take care of him, don't worry.”
Burt took Blaine’s free hand in one of his, reaching out with the other to gently touch Blaine’s cheek, careful not to startle him like last time. He turned Blaine’s face so that he was looking directly at him, but his eyes were still unfocused, his stare vacant, as if he didn't even know or care what was happening around him.
“Blaine,” Burt said gently. “Are you with us, kiddo?”
Blaine’s eyes blinked slowly but they were still empty, frighteningly lifeless, for another moment, two, three. Then their dark depths welled with tears and he turned to Burt with a shaky breath.
“What...?”
“Hey there. You alright?”
He blinked again; Kurt squeezed his hand and earned a glance out of the corner of his eye. Suddenly Blaine’s gaze fell on Finn, still lying prone on the ground, blood on his shirt and his arm in a sling.
“Oh, god.” Blaine started taking in short, sharp breathes, his eyes wide and his hands squeezing tightly.
“Hey, hey, you're alright. You're safe,” Burt assured him and Kurt moved closer, slipped into his space to wrap an arm around his shoulders. Blaine turned to him, pulled his hand out of Kurt’s grasp to wipe at his eyes.
“I tried to stop them,” he whispered, his voice hoarse. “I tried to scream but...”
“I know. Finn told me.” Kurt threaded his fingers through Blaine’s disheveled hair, the curls stiff with gel and sweat. He hated that Blaine felt so vulnerable, so lost and out of control because of those stupid neanderthals.
“Dad, are they-”
“They won't get away with this, Kurt, I promise,” he father said, large, comforting hands holding them both gently, callused fingers brushing their cheeks, like they were still children, like they're still something so precious and fragile.
“Burt?” Blaine’s voice sounded broken, his eyes kept darting out to where everyone else stood woodenly, pretending not to listen. “Can I...I know you said I couldn't come home every time I had a b-bad day but-”
“Kiddo, I don't think today goes in the same category,” Burt laughed mirthlessly. He stood slowly, reached down to grab Blaine and Kurt by the hands and pull them up too. Kurt stayed close to Blaine, wrapped his arm around the other boy's trembling back and felt the too-quick beat of his heart. “You two go home. Put in a Grey's Anatomy marathon or something. I'm going to bring your brother to the hospital, then we'll all be home later, okay?”
Kurt nodded, steering Blaine towards the front lot where the car was parked, as his father turned his attention back to Finn. Two steps back, Kurt thought. He was starting to wonder if they were even on the right track any more.
*****
Blaine felt like he hadn't stopped shaking in hours. His body was tense with it, the throbbing behind his eyes pulsing with his heartbeat. He was curled up with Kurt in the oversized recliner, switching back and forth from watching the movie on the television to watching Finn, who was laid out on the sofa, Carole fussing at his side.
The other boy had come home from the hospital with his wrist in a cast, his ribs wrapped, and a bag full of pain-killers. His face was a mass of purple and black bruises, and he had limped inside, favoring his left leg where the knee was swollen and wrapped in a brace.
Blaine had never felt guiltier about anything in his life. This was all his fault. If he hadn't been such a coward, if he had just let them take him, if he had-
The door swung open, cutting off Blaine's trail of thought, and Burt walked slowly through the doorway looking exhausted. “Burt, honey?” Carole stood slowly from where she had been sitting on the floor beside Finn and crossed the living room to her husband as he stripped his jacket off and hung it on one of the hooks by the door.
Burt's shoulders were hunched and the lines around his eyes seemed to be etched a little deeper tonight. Blaine sat up in the chair, he and Kurt jostling each other as they both leaned forward to hear what Burt had to say. He had left the house hours ago after settling Finn on the couch and ensuring that Blaine was...well, that he wasn't freaking out again.
'I'll fix this,' he had promised Blaine, a tight grip around his shoulders and conviction in his voice as Blaine had stood pathetically in the middle of the room, completely lost. Blaine had just watched him storm out of the house, nodding dumbly when Kurt had suggested switching from Audrey Hepburn movies to Star Wars for Finn's sake.
Since then they had all been waiting, tension palpable through the room as Carole fussed and tutted over them all and none of them spoke a word except to turn down Carole's offers of food or drinks or something, anything to take the hurt and the fear away.
“Well,” Burt sighed wearily, as he stepped into the room and sat slowly down onto the coffee table so he could look at all of them. The anger that had been on his face since he had arrived at the school was gone, nothing but the tiredness in his eyes now.
“Figgin's tried to do his usual back-pedalling, but Schuester and that odd little counselor woman insisted that they had seen those boys hurting Finn, so he caved and promised that all four of them would be expelled.”
Everyone breathed a sigh of relief and Blaine finally felt the tension dissolve from his shoulders. Kurt's arm around him tightened.
“But...for real, right?” Finn asked from his place stretched out on the couch. His voice was groggy, words a little slurred. Carole looked down at him, her eyes pained, and ran a comforting hand over his hair. “I mean, they're not just gonna let them back in like they did with Karofsky, right? Cuz they'll just be mad if they come back and they might think it was Blaine's fault and I don't want them to go after him again.”
What would happen if they went after him again, Blaine thought. Would he freak out again? Would someone else get hurt because of him? Would any of this ever just end?
“This is bullshit.”
The words came out as a growl, tight and angry, boiling up from deep inside.
He pushed up out of the chair, pulling out of Kurt's grasp as everyone turned to stare at him, confusion on their faces. “Blaine, didn't you hear my dad? They're being expelled.”
“It's not about that!” Kurt jumped at Blaine's sudden shout. “It's about this,” fingers digging into the gauze wrapped around his arms, nails scratching against the tape. “It's about...being afraid all the time. It's about the fact that it happened in the first place because I'm a fucking coward! It's about trying so fucking hard and never getting anywhere.”
“Blaine, you just need-”
“Don't tell me I need time! I've had time! I just want it to stop!”
“Blaine-”
“No! Damn it, Kurt, I don't even remember what happened!”
Kurt's brilliant blue eyes flashed stormy with emotion, anger and pain and sorrow all at once, like he couldn't decide on just one. “You remember enough,” he said, voice strong and sure, as if what he said was the only truth that could exist. “We're not the GOP, Blaine. We're not trying to define what is and isn't rape. Just because you don't remember every single detail in technicolor doesn't mean you don't get to react. It doesn’t make it hurt any less.”
Kurt approached him slowly, as if afraid he would snap, and that just made Blaine angry. He wasn't fragile. He wasn't a child that needed to be coddled and pacified.
“I knew,” he hissed, words full of derision and self-loathing. Because it was the truth. He had known all along.
“What?”
“I knew something was wrong, Kurt. He was my teacher, and he asked me to go to the movies three hours away from the school, alone. Why do you think I didn't tell you? I knew. But I was so fucking desperate to-to please my father that I went anyway. And now my father hates me, and Finn's hurt, and you...you're stuck with this pariah that just won't leave.”
A small voice of reason was shouting at him that he needed to calm down, gain control. He was spiraling quickly and with an audience. Finn and Carole and Burt were all wide-eyed and shocked, the usual confusion and grief playing across all their faces. God he hated this. He hated breaking apart; he hated being this weak but he couldn't stop it. The words were like poison, expelling themselves from his body. It was either that or let them sink in and stay.
“Blaine-”
“I know how exhausting this is for you, Kurt. Always worrying about me, wondering what's going to set me off. Wondering if today is the day I just lose it.”
“Blaine, I don't feel that way. I love you.”
Blaine stopped short, the words suddenly stuck in his throat, a stone lodged deep inside, ready to choke him. His eyes began to burn, filling like floodwaters and causing everything to blur around him, Kurt's wide eyes and flushed skin incandescent through the tears.
“You shouldn't.”
He choked back the sob pushing its way up from deep inside and turned away from Kurt, his best friend, his lifeline, before running to the basement and slamming the door shut. He locked it behind him and stumbled down the stairs. He could hear Kurt running after him up above as he slid to the floor, pushing his hands into his hair and pulling, hard.
Kurt shouldn't love him. No one should love him. His father hated him, his mother had never cared that he existed, and Grant had only wanted him for sex. There was nothing to love about him at all. He was a screw up, and sooner or later he would ruin this too, just like he had ruined everything else.
He could hear Kurt pounding on the door, demanding to be let in, worry lacing his voice. Burt's soft rumble joined in, soothing, placating.
What did they think he was going to do down here? Damn it, what was he doing down here? Hands pulling tightly at his hair, he tried to take a deep breath and couldn't. They were only trying to help. They were only trying to make it better for him, and he was down here throwing a hissy-fit like a three year old.
He had spent his entire life wanting a family like this. Wishing for someone to just love him, unconditionally. He had found that here, with these people who had no obligation to him at all, and yet all he could do was push them away.
Maybe if they leave you now it won't hurt so much.
Blaine closed his eyes against the words, leaned his head against the cool brick wall. His hands were still in his hair, pulling until his scalp ached. The gouges on his arms were throbbing. And through it all, past the pain and the nastiness in his head, was the sound of their voices, beckoning him back upstairs, promising comfort, promising peace.
Blaine stood slowly, shaking hands gripping the banister tightly as he turned to walk back up the stairs.
“Tell him I'm okay!” Finn's slurred shout nearly brought a smile to Blaine's face as he paused in front of the closed basement door, his fingers hovering over the lock.
“Finn, not now,” Kurt hissed, the door still shaking under the pounding of his hands.
“But, Kurt-”
“Not now, Finn!” Kurt snapped at his brother. “Blaine, please.”
“Kurt, enough.” Blaine could hear Burt's soft footfalls, listened quietly to the rustle of cloth on the other side of the door. “Let him have some time alone, alright?”
There was a pause and Blaine almost opened the door, almost reached out for Kurt like he had so many times before. Then he heard Kurt’s soft voice, broken open and raw. “But he needs me.”
The truth of it wrapped around Blaine's chest, like a snake squeezing the life out of him, and he pulled away from the door, away from Kurt and Burt, and everything that was waiting for him on the other side.
To Be Continued (soon, I promise!)
Oh my god, you guys, I am sooooooooo sorry! Seriously, there are not words in the English language that express how sorry I am that this has taken me so long. I am not a long-fic writer. I get burst of inspiration and then...this. I've not had writer's block this bad in years.
I feel like this chapter is a let down after such a long wait, and I'm sorry for that too. I promise, cross my heart and hope to die, that it will NOT take me this long to get the next chapter out. If you noticed, there's officially 10 chapters total, so there's only two more. I have a plan, I know where it's going and where it's ending. Now all I have to do is make my muses stop playing 'ring-around-the-mulberry-bush' with my inspiration and we can have our happy ending, okay? Okay.
And thank you so much to all my readers who stuck with me, and kept encouraging me and demanding more. knowing you guys were out there, waiting and wanting more made me barrel through the writer's block and get this done for you. and amordemealma. Seriously, her and her whipencouragement are the reason this chapter is getting up at all. Love you, deary! (Now write your own damn fic!)
- Meagan